Which won't work with just the Undersides. Aside from just not being enough alone, their involvement with Coil & the Echidna debacle has probably moved them to the top of everyone's shit list. I've been wondering if it would be better for Coil to have the Undersides leave BB to expand his operations into a nearby city or have his Protectorate team capture them to restore some of his credibility with the public and his superiors. Not noticing Coil building a criminal empire under his nose, not noticing at least one mole in the PRT, not being involved in the Coil bust, and not being able to deal with Echidna must have hurt him at least a little.
But if he actually does 'drive' the Undersiders out...then how does he keep new gangs from moving in and thus weakening his grip?
Fautline's fucked off and so he's played that card, and as long as Aeon and New Wave are around there are heroes he doesn't control so he doesn't even half one end of it locked up.
There's only so many disposable pawns you can throw away before you realize your board's opened up and you have nothing to stop from being outmanuvered and boxed in.
Hell, it doesn't even have to be anything special: a villain just acting like a villain and trying to expand into BB without even knowing a fraction of what Coil has planned would cause him trouble with the way he's running through some of his assets.
But if he actually does 'drive' the Undersiders out...then how does he keep new gangs from moving in and thus weakening his grip?
Fautline's fucked off and so he's played that card, and as long as Aeon and New Wave are around there are heroes he doesn't control so he doesn't even half one end of it locked up.
There's only so many disposable pawns you can throw away before you realize your board's opened up and you have nothing to stop from being outmanuvered and boxed in.
Hell, it doesn't even have to be anything special: a villain just acting like a villain and trying to expand into BB without even knowing a fraction of what Coil has planned would cause him trouble with the way he's running through some of his assets.
The Undersiders might be doomed whether he wants to get rid of them or not. If he keeps them around Aeon or another faction might catch them. From my point of view Calvert doesn't seem to have many good options, which makes me worry he's going to do something surprising.
The Undersiders might be doomed whether he wants to get rid of them or not. If he keeps them around Aeon or another faction might catch them. From my point of view Calvert doesn't seem to have many good options, which makes me worry he's going to do something surprising.
No, what makes me worried is that from what we can tell he seems as smug as ever, which makes me afraid that somehow he's not in a bad position, or isn't narratively seen to be. I mean, admittedly he was smug all the way to the final scene, but...
He doesn't need to do anything to the Undersiders. Without Tattletale to make them supremely useful to Coil or an ersatz-Taylor figure to take over and revamp them like she did in canon they are probably just going to drift apart or leave the city.
However dysfunctional the Protectorate and Wards are, they are currently facing a city that is almost entirely absent parahuman criminals, or at least serious ones. Compared to how the city originally was, the Merchants are entirely gone, Lung seems to be on his way out of town, most of the E88 are gone as well as lacking all their non-parahuman power, the Undersiders seem to be nonconfrontational and lacking their thinker, Coil as a persona is gone, the Travelers will likely disband, Uber and Leet are respectively a hero and dead, and I'm not sure what Faultline's group will do. In addition, the Teeth moved in and lost their leader and a lot of muscle. This will make any further groups more unwilling to move in.
In summary, almost all of of the Parahuman crime is gone, with Purity's group and the Undersiders the only ones with any appreciable power, while New Wave is still very strong and Aeon's group is strong and getting stronger.
Basically, my thought is that even if the Wards and Protectorate are not very cohesive or combat ready, it won't matter too much because parahuman crime is as low as it's ever been, and the independent groups can effectively aid in policing very large areas of the city. (Worth noting: of the 9 active members of New Wave+Aeon's group, only two lack the ability to fly). Even discounting Calvert's ability to manage the criminals of BB, I think the Protectorate would be fine because of their own raw power, and because of the firepower they can call in on a short timescale.
However dysfunctional the Protectorate and Wards are, they are currently facing a city that is almost entirely absent parahuman criminals, or at least serious ones. Compared to how the city originally was, the Merchants are entirely gone, Lung seems to be on his way out of town, most of the E88 are gone as well as lacking all their non-parahuman power, the Undersiders seem to be nonconfrontational and lacking their thinker, Coil as a persona is gone, the Travelers will likely disband, Uber and Leet are respectively a hero and dead, and I'm not sure what Faultline's group will do. In addition, the Teeth moved in and lost their leader and a lot of muscle. This will make any further groups more unwilling to move in.
In summary, almost all of of the Parahuman crime is gone, with Purity's group and the Undersiders the only ones with any appreciable power, while New Wave is still very strong and Aeon's group is strong and getting stronger.
Basically, my thought is that even if the Wards and Protectorate are not very cohesive or combat ready, it won't matter too much because parahuman crime is as low as it's ever been, and the independent groups can effectively aid in policing very large areas of the city. (Worth noting: of the 9 active members of New Wave+Aeon's group, only two lack the ability to fly). Even discounting Calvert's ability to manage the criminals of BB, I think the Protectorate would be fine because of their own raw power, and because of the firepower they can call in on a short timescale.
That would be a interesting path to getting rid of Coil... He succeeded so well he made himself redundant. The protectorate moves out since they aren't really needed anymore and he is out of a job and his Coil persona is also busted.
By the time I got back to the PRT trucks, things were already in motion. The group that had assembled to attack Coil, and to stop Noelle, was already fragmenting. Labyrinth and Newter were hovering protectively over their recovering teammates. Faultline was already up and moving, if unsteadily, while Gregor and Spitfire remained on the ground, barely conscious. Abstract was in a similar position, Guernica hovering over Snowflake and Variegation. New Wave was clustered together just inside the foam barricades, heads close and talking intently. In the middle of it all the Protectorate and Wards stood, bunched into two groups, herded closer together by the lurking presence of Lung.
Purity's team was nowhere to be seen.
Everyone was separating, shooting glances at the other groups, and between it all rushed the PRT people, packing up trucks and getting ready to move.
"Hell of a way to end a party, huh?" Pinnacle said, hovering over me as I came to a stop in mid-air, just outside the furthest barricade.
I glanced over at him. He was maybe ten feet away, further than usual for when we talked. I could only blame my drones, which were hovering behind my shoulders again, fanned out in formation so all their weapons could come to bear on any target ahead of us. Not something I'd programmed them to do. I wasn't sure if Pinnacle was worried about the drones, or if he was just staying away to not feel crowded, and right then I didn't really feel like I had time to consider it.
"Come on," I said, ignoring his previous comment and heading toward the Protectorate group.
They were standing behind a PRT truck, one equipped as a mobile hospital. Dauntless was in the back, armor clean, laying on top of a wheeled gurney. His shield and spear were on the ground nearby, and there were two PRT medics working on him. Miss Militia – with Lung nearby, leaning against the side of the truck and staring at her – and Triumph were watching the medics work, not quite hovering. Bastion and Ram Bar were there too, staring at Armsmaster as he worked to disassemble and stow the workbench he'd set up earlier back into his motorcycle.
I chose to stop by Armsmaster, as close to out of the way as I could manage. As soon as I neared the ground he stopped working, staring up at me.
"Aeon," he said. "You did good work against Echidna, but I have very little time right now. Transport will be here soon and I need to-"
"I want to come," I broke in, floating toward him, my drones moving slightly unsteadily behind me. "If you're going to fight the Simurgh, I can help."
"Called it," Pinnacle muttered to himself, almost too low for me to hear.
"It's not that easy," Miss Militia said, turning away from Dauntless to stare at me intently. Lung did too, and I tried to ignore the queasy feeling that caused in my stomach. He was right there. "The Simurgh isn't like the other Endbringers. Not everyone that wants to fight is allowed to. There's protocols at the international level to ensure that only the right people are put into contact with her."
I shook my head. "I won't need to actually get close, myself," I insisted. "I designed my drones with her in mind as much as Leviathan or Behemoth. I don't even need to get within fifty miles of her to use them. I don't know how much damage they might do, but that's part of what they're for. Testing."
"Again, it's not that easy," Miss Militia continued, her voice soft. "I owe you my life, Aeon, so please believe me when I say that I'm telling you this for your own good. The combatants in a Simurgh encounter aren't regulated just because of proximity to her, or the effects of her scream. And I'm aware of your resistance to Master effects, by the way, in case you were thinking of bringing that up. The main reason people are vetted so heavily is so that everyone can be sure of their stability in a fight. If anyone involved, even just peripherally, might possibly act rashly or unpredictably, the Simurgh can use that."
"It's why there's so few fighters available against her," Bastion put in, crossing his arms over his chest. I was reminded that before his racist fall from grace he'd been a Protectorate team leader, like Armsmaster, and a regular at Endbringer fights. "But it's better than the alternative. We've seen what it's like when people go off the rails against her. It's never pretty."
"He's right," she confirmed. "Of all of us here, only Armsmaster will be going. Purity already offered her help, and we already turned her down. I'm afraid the answer is the same for you."
I sagged in place, but I wasn't about to give up just yet. "Can't you make an exception, or something? I think I've proven by now that I'm useful. I've fought Leviathan, plus just about every villain in the city at one point or another. I went out solo against the Teeth more than once, and won. You've seen how effective my drones are, today. I stand by my track record, and I really think I should be allowed to fight today, too."
"Fight again, you mean," Pinnacle added from beside me, and I panned my view over to him, pinging his lock-on warning. He just glanced at me and shrugged. "It's true," he said. "You've already been in like, four or five separate fights today. It's gotta be wearing you down by now."
"I'm fine," I insisted. It was even true, too. This had been the single longest stretch of activity I'd done since the very early days of getting my power, rushing around the city to find supplies and materials, but I felt fine. Physically, at least.
"I'm sorry, Aeon," Miss Militia said, shaking her head. "But it just isn't possible."
"Actually," Armsmaster said, his voice musing, glancing up and rubbing his chin with one hand. Once again he'd stopped working, though I hadn't actually noticed him starting up again, too intent on Miss Militia. "It might be possible. As head of the Johnson Initiative I've been given fairly broad discretionary powers by the Chief Director. This will be the first time Initiative resources are deployed against an active Endbringer, so there shouldn't be much trouble with me adding your resources to the mix. It's early for an attack in any case, so a number of projects are still in development, not ready to be deployed."
"Are you saying you'll bring me," I asked. "Let me fight?"
"No," he said, and I almost wilted again. "Not yet, at least. With the variety of weapons and tactics we'll be using it's entirely possible we already have something that at least approximates your work. But your mention of testing is interesting. Tell me what you have, and I'll think about including you."
"Alright," I said, trying to get my thoughts in order. So much had happened, so quickly, and such a huge amount of it was still in flux. But if I was denied here I'd lose the opportunity to see how effective my weapons were against an Endbringer, as well as months of time to test and refine my plans. That was what I focused on.
"I've got four weapons systems apart from the graviton projector I used on Leviathan before. This one," I said, gesturing to the first drone on my left, "has a... well, I call it a quantum cannon. It takes the energy my generators provide and layers it over and over again, then fires it out. The damage is done as the energy layers break up on impact, and I'm pretty sure it at least partly phases any matter it hits through itself, carrying it forward in the stream."
Armsmaster nodded, and I heard Kid Win whistle from where the Wards were standing. I hadn't even noticed him listening in. "Not dissimilar to my own prototype weapon then," Armsmaster said. "Reasonable, considering I was inspired by your work in the first place. Continue."
"Alright," I said, gesturing to my next drone. "This one uses a matter-displacement weapon. Different principle to the first, although it also works similar to one aspect of my generators. The energy beam is modulated to connect and swap around matter along its path through quantum overlap, scrambling the internal structure of anything it hits or displacing it back along the path of the beam, out into the air. Basically everything in the path of the beam is considered in the same location, and the trapped energy swaps their states a little bit, changing their effective position."
I stopped for a moment, realizing that I was starting to babble, as well as using terms that were increasingly inappropriate to the feeling of the blueprints the weapon were derived from. Nobody called me on it though, or interrupted me, and since I was already the center of increasingly uncomfortable attention I didn't have any choice but to keep going.
"Okay, next one is a disruptor weapon. It uses a beam of phased energy that only partly exists. Wherever the beam passes, it disrupts molecular bonds, scrambling the atoms and flipping around their charges, forcing them to randomly remake the bonds with other, inappropriate atoms. Pretty sure it makes electrons act weird, too." I said it all in a rush, trying to get through as quickly as I could. "Last is kind of my wild-card. It doesn't do much damage, and I don't have a good name to describe what it does. I call it a shield-breaker. It kind of just... nullifies everything it comes in contact with. Energy is zeroed out, matter turns to dust or disappears."
I stopped for a moment, looking around. "That's all of them," I said. "What do you think?"
"I think it's more than I was expecting," Armsmaster said, giving me an appraising look. "Certainly much more exotic than what you've deployed in the past."
"There was meant to be a series of six," I admitted. "I thought I'd have more time. The others would have been a bit more conventional."
He nodded. "A similar problem to my own, then."
"So, what do you think?" I pressed. I hated the uncertainty of not knowing whether I could go or not. If I knew one way or the other I could make plans, figure out what I was going to do next. But until Armsmaster answered I was in limbo.
"I'm considering," he said. "We have a little time left until the transport craft arrive. Come with me to the PRT building. I'll decide there, when the time comes."
I frowned. The worst of both worlds, then. "Alright," I said, doing my best to hide my displeasure. Now was not a time I wanted to seem uncooperative. "Pinnacle, what about you?" I asked, turning to him. "You don't have to come this time. It's short notice, I know."
"Yeah, think I'll pass," he said, in a tone I couldn't really parse. "You know I have your back, Aeon, but there's jack-shit I can do against an Endbringer. Plus, Solace is still down-and-out and we don't know where the Undersiders went. Someone needs to stay and mind the fort. Plus, honestly, whether you're tired or not I sure as hell am."
I nodded, even more unhappy. I knew it shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was. I knew it wasn't fair, since I'd given him the option, but I hadn't really thought he'd take it.
"Okay," I said, trying even harder to hide my feelings. "In that case, I'll see you when I get back."
"Good," Armsmaster said. "If that's settled, we can-"
"Wait!" someone shouted, and I turned to see, along with nearly everyone else there. "Wait! If she gets to go, I should too!"
It was Tattletale, limping along at a fairly good clip, her hospital gown flapping behind her, using her IV stand as an impromptu cane. The PRT people that had been guarding her were still there, walking along behind her, but they didn't seem to be trying to stop her. A similar situation to Lung, maybe? Or just the ambiguous nature of her present circumstances? A villain, but a victim of Coil, and someone that had helped in the fight, all at the same time.
She also, I saw, had Solace's hoverpack-slash-shield backpack held under the arm she was using to hold the gown closed, the straps dangling.
"No," Armsmaster said. "Aeon is a hero, with a potentially very valuable set of weapons to contribute to the fight. For all the help you were today, you remain a villain, and an injured one at that."
"Yeah," she said, totally shameless, a slightly pained grin sliding across her face, "but I'm not at risk for taking any rash or unpredictable actions, because I won't be taking any actions at all. Just observing. You saw the information I gave 'Em Em' over there?"
It took me a moment to realize what she was saying. MM. Miss Militia. She kept advancing, hobbling over to me and passing me Solace's backpack, then continuing on to stand right in front of Armsmaster, in the middle of our three groups.
Armsmaster frowned down at her. "I did. It was a valuable insight into Leviathan's biology. It formed the basis of several proposed tactical plans within the Initiative."
I realized, then, what they were talking about. After I'd saved Tattletale when Leviathan knocked her off a building – then set the building to topple on top of us – she'd told me a few things about it. Things I'd kind of already realized by then. She must have told the Protectorate afterward, or even possibly during the fight, and in more detail than she'd told me.
Tattletale's grin widened, and she became more animated. "Yeah, so imagine how much more valuable my information on the Simurgh would be. All I'd need is a camera feed and a place to park myself wherever you guys are based."
"You could do that from here," Miss Militia pointed out. "If you just want to observe, I'm sure something could be arranged, especially if you're willing to share what you learn."
Tattletale shook her head. "No, I need to be there, somewhere that I can ask questions, get the right information. Maybe get a real look, if possible."
I was a bit surprised she was admitting so much, honestly. Was it the drugs? Whatever injury Armsmaster had alluded to? Come to think of it, she had been limping when she approached. Was that new?
"That hardly sounds like you not taking any actions," Armsmaster pointed out.
She shrugged. "Okay, mostly taking no actions, then. Come on, you know the risk is low, but the reward could be really high."
Miss Militia moved to speak, but Armsmaster interrupted her. "We're running out of time," he said, giving his head a quick shake. "I'll consider your offer, and decide when the transports arrive. Come here."
She did, grinning and hobbling over to him as he finished packing away all his supplies. Even the workbench itself was gone, somehow. Folded away impossibly into the body of the motorcycle without seeming to add any mass or bulk to it. As Tattletale approached a seat flipped out, different from the one I'd used months ago, and she started to climb on. She was slow, though, and Armsmaster grabbed her, lifted her, and deposited her onto the seat. She winced, and clutched her arms to her chest, her mouth screwed up in pain. Armsmaster unhooked the IV from her arm, held it out to one of the PRT troopers there, and mounted up himself.
Then they were off, and I took off to follow them. Pinnacle left at the same time, curving north toward the shelter as we headed west, toward the PRT building. The trip was quick, but tense. The streets I passed over were basically empty, either because of the hour or because of Echidna, or possibly both. At the PRT building, the crowd that had gathered earlier was gone.
I felt more alone than I had expected to, knowing that neither Pinnacle or Solace would be coming with me, assuming I was even allowed to fight. I'd fought on my own enough times in the past, after all, and even against Leviathan I hadn't had either of them with me. Hell, Solace hadn't even had his power when that fight had started. Maybe it was just that Solace was injured, or that I'd asked Pinnacle and he'd declined, rather than being unavailable. It might have been the situation I had left my Dad in, or the unaddressed problems with New Wave. Or maybe it was the lingering unfinished business regarding the Undersiders and the rest of Coil's organization.
Or it could have just been how unhappy I was that Noelle had been allowed to retreat. There was every chance she'd be back at some point while I went out to fight the Simurgh, and I wasn't sure what sort of state people were in to resist her, now.
Whatever the case, when Armsmaster finally pulled into a parking garage in the PRT building, I was more than happy to follow him.
"I've been in contact with several other Initiative members," Armsmaster said unceremoniously as soon as his motorcycle pulled to a stop inside the garage. He swung himself off, then lifted Tattletale down and supported her as he made his way quickly toward a large cargo elevator, talking as he went. I didn't really have any choice but to follow. "There's a general consensus that your weapons could be useful, although the analysis team is still going over the footage of their attacks against Echidna. Not that anyone is expecting you to truly harm the Simurgh, but none of our current projects use the exact methods you do, and any data we can get is beneficial."
"That's not all though, is it?" Tattletale asked, her voice strained. She was paler than she had been, and even with Armsmaster's support she was hunched over, her right hand clutched over her left shoulder, and her left leg bent and shaking.
Armsmaster didn't respond right away, waiting for me to enter the elevator and get all my drones in with me. I did so as quickly as I could, but it was a pain. My new drones, as quick as they were, really weren't that nimble at low speeds, and even the cargo elevator only had so much space. I had to more or less stack them in the corner, turning off their hover systems as they landed. It made an awkward pile, but at least they all fit.
"You're correct," Armsmaster acknowledged, once I was done, tapping away at a panel on the wall. Not, I noted, the one that listed floors and controlled the doors. This one looked like it had folded out, maybe originally been hidden. The elevator started moving, much slower than the one I'd been on before.
"I won't lie to you," he continued as soon as we were in motion, "there's some public image to consider here. Aeon, your actions against Leviathan captured public attention, and were part of what inspired the Johnson Initiative in the first place. Having you present again will help refine the focus of what we're doing. Keep public attention on programs like the Initiative. Possibly spread to other areas besides just Endbringers, if properly directed. There's been repeated calls to establish stockpiles of tinkertech for examination or use, for example, but the funding and personnel required to do so safely has always been prohibitive."
"A lot of pressure," I said.
He held out a hand, waggled it side-to-side in a so-so gesture. "Less than you think," he said. "Very little footage of Endbringer fights makes it to the public, and that's especially true with the Simurgh. There's too much fear that whatever means she uses to make plans and influence her victims could be spread through recorded footage."
I frowned. "I thought she was a telepath," I said. "Reads people's minds, then messes with them. Implants commands that make them do terrible things. Stuff like that."
Once again, he moved his hand in a vaguely negative gesture. "Not quite," he said, and I saw that Tattletale was staring up at him almost hungrily. Was this new information to her? "The truth is that nobody knows precisely how the Simurgh does what she does. It would be a lot easier to deal with if we did. Most people know about her song, or scream, or whatever you want to call it. There's theories about how exactly it functions, from telepathy to micro-telekinesis, but no actual proof. She's also generally believed to be a very powerful precognitive, although again there's no actual proof. But one thing we do know about her is that she's unpredictable, and she can demonstrate new abilities seemingly at will. In Madison, for example, she used a hitherto unknown ability to create tinkertech. Large portals from an alternate Earth. Now known to be Earth Aleph."
"Holy shit," I breathed. "How come nobody knows about this?"
"Because," Tattletale said, still looking up at Armsmaster, "anyone that really knew what the Simurgh can do would freak out, right?"
"Partially," he said. "Public uneasiness at an unknown enemy is generally considered better than public panic, it's true. But that aside, it's worth noting that she hasn't used any Tinker-like powers since Madison. I'm not trying to dissuade you, Aeon. Just to make you aware that the Simurgh is not like Leviathan. She's just as dangerous, of course. Her telekinesis is some of the strongest on the planet, after all. But that's very nearly the least concerning thing about her."
He turned to me fully, then, his mouth set in a grim line. "Leviathan strives to kill. When left alone, he targets areas with high concentrations of people and drowns them. You've seen that with your own eyes. Behemoth strives to destroy. He targets dangerous locations like oil fields or nuclear reactors and does his best to leave anywhere he fights a burning, irradiated wasteland. The Simurgh does neither of those things. She strives to corrupt. To take people, places, and things, and twist them. Turn them against society. Against civilization at large. Everything from individuals to entire cities. Whenever she's allowed to succeed, things get worse for everyone. Sometimes not even in very noticeable ways. Sometimes in ways that take years to fully understand. If you do intend to fight her, and if I decide to allow you to, you have to keep that in mind."
"How the hell is anyone supposed to do that?" Tattletale asked. She was frowning now, massaging her forehead with her free hand, her other still clutched to her shoulder. "It sounds like whatever you do, we all get fucked."
I was reminded of when I had fought against the Teeth. The endless arguments we'd all had in the shelter about what to do. How attacking anywhere might bring retaliation down on us. How destroying their transport vehicles could lead to their slaves starving. How even winning against them entirely might just open up the territory for some other group of villains. We'd talked in circles for hours at a time, day after day. If I hadn't pushed so hard, we might never have fought them at all. In some ways that might have been better, but it was hard to argue with the final results.
"You just keep it in mind, and don't give up," I said.
"Exactly," Armsmaster said. "There's a chance that whatever we do, the results will be bad. But if we do nothing, then it's a certainty. We don't understand the Simurgh, so all we can do is make the best choices we can with the information we have."
"Well, maybe I can change that for you," Tattletale said, grinning up at him. Even though she was still half hunched over and needed Armsmaster's hand to keep her on her feet, she somehow managed to look cocky.
He glanced at her, but didn't say anything. I could hear very faint sounds coming from his helmet, now that it was quieter. Whoever he was in contact with, I had to assume. His lips moved slightly for a moment, barely noticeable. A subvocal mic maybe, better than what I'd built into my mask?
Whatever it was, he didn't respond to Tattletale. The rest of the slow ride upward was quiet, and by the time the doors slid open to reveal the night sky above the roof of the PRT building, I was nearly vibrating with impatience.
Right as we arrived Armsmaster stepped forward, walking confidently toward the edge of the roof.
"Aeon," he said, without stopping or looking back at me. "One last question before I decide. Do you have any means of disabling your drones if they become damaged? Any way to prevent them from being used by the Simurgh, if the worst happens?"
"I can shut them off with my interface, and if necessary I can tell them to self-destruct," I said, frowning. I didn't like admitting that, for a number of reasons. Not least among which was that, despite my efforts to miniaturize it and the myriad forms it took in my various different units, the self-destruct system was – at its core – a bomb. If I ordered a drone to self destruct, anyone nearby would be hurt, at the very least.
He just nodded though, not pressing me on it. "Could anyone else activate either system?"
I shook my head, belatedly hovering out of the elevator and ordering my drones to converge on me again. They did, clattering against each other and the wall as they left the pile and moved toward me. "I really doubt it," I said. "It's nothing as simple as a radio. Pretty much the same comm system as I've always used, just with a bit more range and power in the drones."
He nodded again, coming to a stop at the edge of the roof. As he did, a shape zipped into view just past him, nearly fast enough to look like it had teleported. A dark, almost liquid blob, spindle-shaped, narrow, and vibrating slightly as it came to a stop. Part of the surface jiggled for a moment, then flowed away, revealing some fairly normal-looking metal panels and a door, which folded down gangplank-style to rest just at Armsmaster's feet.
The timing of it, happening just as he reached the edge of the roof, had to have been planned. Was that why he hadn't felt rushed? He'd known exactly when his transport would arrive?
"I've decided to bring the both of you," he announced, "But there's one condition each, and no time to debate. Accept them or stay here. Tattletale, you'll stay in the presence of a known hero or member of the Johnson Initiative at all times, and wear an armband that includes a tracker and a bomb. If necessary, or if you're in the Simurgh's area of influence too long, I will detonate it."
"Sure," she said, her grin turning slightly crooked. "No problem."
Behind my mask, my eyes widened. Both that Armsmaster might do such a thing, and that Tattletale would so easily accept it.
He turned to me next. "Aeon, I won't ask you to wear one of those armbands. You'll get a regular one, without the explosive payload, like you had for Leviathan. My condition for you is that you attack where I say, when I say, and withdraw if and when I order you to. No arguments or discussion. Can you do that?"
I nodded, despite the sour feeling the thought of using my tech at another person's orders caused me. For months now it had been my burden, and ultimately mine alone. I wasn't happy about it, but I could live with it. Using it for someone else though? Not as easy. Unfortunately Armsmaster hadn't really given me a choice. "I'll do it."
"Good," he said, turning away and stepping onto the ramp leading up to... whatever kind of vehicle it was, Tattletale half-stumbling beside him. "There's not enough room on this jump craft for you and your drones, but another will arrive in a moment. Board as quickly as you can. The Simurgh has been descending for almost eleven minutes now. She'll arrive at Islamabad shortly."
With that, the ramp rose up behind him, the liquid spread back over the vehicle, and it shot away. No sound, no visible means of propulsion. Just a shiny spindle, spearing off into the night.
Almost as soon as it was gone, another appeared, with just as little fanfare as the first. My eyes widened. That wasn't quite what I'd imagined when he'd said 'shortly', but I wasn't about to complain. Even before the flank of the vehicle was visible or the gangplank was lowered, I was in motion.
Getting my drones inside, however, was tricky. I didn't have much ability to micromanage their movements, and they were too wide to just fly through the hatch. It was only about seven feet tall, and maybe four wide. The space inside wasn't that big, either, for all that the craft had to be over a hundred feet long. A narrow corridor, stretching most of the length of the vehicle and tapering down as it got closer to the front or back. I figured it probably took up about a third of the actual volume of the thing. The problem was that even at its widest, where the hatch was, it was only about five feet across. Just big enough to fit a drone, if I could get it in.
In the end I managed, but it took over a minute of frustrating, impatient work. When no order I could give worked, I ended up turning the drones off one by one and just pushing them inside myself. For all that they only weighed fifty pounds each, it was still awkward. I wasn't that strong, and they were pretty big.
Once the fourth drone was in, though, and I finally floated through the hatch and touched down on the metal-grate floor with an audible clank, the gangplank lifted up, sealing me inside. In the same instant my map lurched, the wire-frame image of the top of the PRT building vanishing. A few other buildings slid past, too fast to make out, and then nothing. Empty air in every direction. The speed of it, and the lack of any other sense of movement, sent me stumbling for a few steps until I found my balance.
I looked around, but there really wasn't anything to see. No chairs or benches, or even really any visible machinery. Just curved metal plates for the walls and ceiling, studded with lighting strips, and a metal grate for the floor. There were a number of panels along the walls, possibly for storage or access to whatever machinery ran the craft, but I wasn't about to mess with them. That was all, beyond a small handful of crates and pallets near the back, secured by straps to the grating on the floor.
I gravitated toward the front of the craft, or what I thought of as the front. It was pretty symmetrical, in the end. But there wasn't really anything there either. Or at least so I thought, until a little rectangular section of the wall lit up.
"Aeon," Armsmaster's voice said. A comm panel then, or at least something that could double as one.
"Armsmaster," I replied. "Can I ask what these... ships are?"
"We call them jump craft," he responded. "No better name yet, I'm afraid. Rapid response units, designed to move material quickly. A response to a lack of large-scale teleporters, or at least ones that can be on-call full time."
"I thought there was one, at least," I said. "Strider, or something like that. He brought people in for Leviathan."
"You're correct there on both counts," he replied. I could hear some other sounds, mechanical ones. Was he working on something? "However, Strider is a rogue. He charges for his service, and he's only one man. Although granted, these craft are fairly expensive too. But at least they have the advantage that once Dulcet and Headway make one, it's available to anyone."
"It's a collaboration, then?" I asked, glancing around. Honestly, the inside looked pretty plain. Maybe utilitarian. But not something I'd associate with an advanced tinkertech aircraft. "How much do they cost?"
"Approximately seven billion dollars each, mostly for the exotic materials needed," he said.
I just gaped. "Seven billion for this!?" I asked, gesturing around at the spartan, nearly featureless interior. Some of the metal plates had rivets in them. It just didn't connect. I couldn't even comprehend that kind of money, and it had gone to...
Well, I couldn't think of any better term than 'this'.
Armsmaster chuckled, and I glared at the comm panel. Not that he could see, of course.
"Don't dismiss them out of hand," he said. "The top speed of these jump-craft is almost thirty five thousand miles an hour. Approximately ten times the speed record for a non-tinkertech craft. And we have eleven of them, now, each capable of transporting several dozen tons of material."
"You're kidding," I said.
"Far from it," he assured me. "I did mention that these craft are meant to replace long-range teleporters, after all. It's almost a shame, really. We expected to have a lot more to transport than we actually have ready right now. Although it does mean we had the extra craft for your use, so that's a plus. On that note, we're nearly halfway there. Just a bit over five minutes until landing, give or take. You should get ready."
I didn't bother responding. The fact that I only had five minutes left of a flight that had to be over five thousand miles – I wasn't a hundred percent sure where Islamabad was, or even what country it was in – served as something of a catalyst. I didn't have much I could really do, but I still hurried back to my drones. At the very least I could get them arranged to exit the craft faster, rather than just leaving them piled in a heap inside the door.
While working, I was a bit more careful than I had been while trying to get them in. The knowledge of just how fast I was currently moving, and how fragile some tinkertech could be, lent a sort of hard edge to everything. I nearly flinched each time one of my drones clanged against the floor, and even the sound my armored boots made was enough to send little shivers of worry up my spine. I wanted to turn my shield back on, but I had no idea how it would interact with whatever the little ship was doing. Clearly something weird was going on with momentum, and I had no interest at all in finding out the hard way if it would stop working for me. Shield or not, hitting the back wall at thousands and thousands of miles an hour would probably kill me.
Not that I actually thought anything like that would happen, or else Armsmaster would have warned me. But just the possibility was enough to freak me out.
It was a very distinct relief when something other than empty air finally showed up on my map again. One moment there was nothing, then the next I was surrounded by icons and structures, including at least half a dozen jump-craft like that one I was on. A few seconds later the door folded down with a hiss of compressed air, once again forming a ramp.
I didn't waste time. While I'd been working, I hadn't found a particularly good way to get my drones into motion, with the door being as narrow as it was. What I'd settled for was just keeping them more or less up on their edges, lined up in front of the door. As it folded down I just kicked them over, one at a time, to tumble down the ramp and clang onto the pavement outside. Once they were all outside I hovered out and activated them, ordering them to follow me. There was a moment of confusion as they got in the air, but they quickly fell into place, hovering behind my shoulders, slightly offset from each other.
That done I moved upward and looked around, taking in everything I could while trying to find Armsmaster.
The first thing I noted was that Islamabad wasn't what I'd been expecting. I knew, generally, that the other potential target – Kabul – was in the Middle East. That meant, logically, that we were pretty close. Maybe in Africa, maybe nearer India. Pakistan, possibly? I had never been that great at Geography. That said, the name and the general region brought to mind pictures of arid, rocky landscapes and ancient cities made of sandstone as often as steel and concrete.
Islamabad was anything but. It sat at the base of a range of mountains. Real ones, not like the hills to the west of Brockton Bay. They reared up in the distance, taller by far than any of the intervening skyscrapers, unlike anything I'd ever seen. What's more, they were green. Covered with trees, with a thick mist pouring down off them, obscuring the peaks. It was daylight out, probably pretty close to noon, as compared to a few hours after midnight in Brockton Bay, but dark clouds hid any view of the sun, so I couldn't really get any kind of bearing.
The buildings, too weren't what I was expecting. At least the ones in the distance, past what seemed to be a lake. There were tall towers dotting the landscape, set between wide roads, ordered grids of smaller buildings, and ever-present greenery.
It was beautiful, in some ways, though the nearby buildings were a bit closer to my imagination. Smaller buildings, often made of brick, with a distinctly European look to some. Peaked or flat roofs, often with shingles on them, and roads that wouldn't have been out of place anywhere I'd ever been to.
I tore my attention away from the city, focusing on my immediate surroundings. The jump-craft, and others like it, had landed on a wide stretch of concrete surrounded by low, concrete buildings, and I could see a number of big passenger planes parked well out of the way. An airport, then. That made sense.
Below me I could see capes bustling around. Some were unloading the jump-craft and a handful of other flying vehicles, while others worked on various devices. A collection of huge cannons made of something like bronze, inscribed with glowing circuitry; three little flying saucers with tiny clawed arms; what looked like a winged Tesla coil, standing upright with a seat on top; two huge robots, several stories tall, with multi-barreled guns for arms; a storage tank the size of a building with lots of warning symbols on it, leaking mist from where the top was slowly swinging open; racks full of literally hundreds of different rifle-sized weapons; a stack of ammunition crates ten feet high, apparently filled with little spheres and canisters where a few Tinkers in matching costumes had one open. More. So much I couldn't hope to take it all in.
I didn't notice at first, too consumed with my survey, but there was a low fence made of what looked like orange plastic surrounding the area, and all the Tinker work seemed to be going on inside it. A little bit away there were others, little sectioned off areas full of capes. Between all of them were men in drab green, brown, and tan camouflage. Some of them were standing up in parked jeeps, looking around, while others patrolled nervously. All of them were armed.
"Aeon, down here!"
I glanced down to see Armsmaster, waving up at me. I descended toward him and he stepped back, making a space for me to land in a little area of clear ground, surrounded on all sides by a bizarre collection of costumed parahumans and literal tons of tinkertech. I touched down a few feet away, near the edge of the clear space.
"So you know, the Pakistani army isn't terribly fond of unlicensed flight in their territory," he said, as soon as I touched down.
"Oh, sorry," I said. At least I knew where I was, now.
"Not a problem," he said. "Now, I have to get the command center set up, so I'll be passing you off to one of the Initiative's information specialists. She'll tell you what you need to know, as well as relay orders as necessary."
I didn't have a chance to respond, or to ask where Tattletale was, before he was gone. He just spun on his heel and left, navigating through the chaos without even missing a beat. A costumed woman stepped up in his place, uncomfortably close, and held out a hand to me.
She was young, and while she was obviously a Tinker her gear didn't really look like it was optimized for combat. She had on a skintight pink and blue bodysuit, carefully patterned to accentuate her chest and hips, with a tan lab coat overtop, open the whole way down. The pockets of the coat were stuffed with gadgets, and she had a loose, slanting belt with a few larger devices looped through it. Even with my incredibly poor eye for fashion, the coat looked tailored, and I would have bet good money that it couldn't have closed if she'd wanted it to.
One of those types of capes, then. I'd seen them plenty on TV, but never in real-life before. Someone who used the anonymity of a secret identity to take sex appeal to an extreme. While her costume was technically full-body – her bodysuit going all the way down to her hands and feet – the only part of her actually obscured was her head, a featureless full-face helmet covering her from crown to chin. It was mostly blue, with two vertical pink stripes around where her eyes would be.
I wasn't sure if her look was part of how she used her power, maybe a way to put people off guard, or if it was just a reflection of her own preferences. Either way I didn't really like it. Not that I had any objection, necessarily, but it left me not knowing how I should act. What the etiquette was for dealing with someone like that. Ignore it? Compliment her? I had no idea what – if anything – would give offense.
"Hi, I'm Glimmer!" she said after a few seconds, when I still hadn't taken her hand. Her voice was slightly distorted, but she sounded cheerful. Bubbly, even. "I handle intel. What do you need to know?" Her hand didn't waver, sticking straight out toward me, right in my face.
"I could use an armband, first off," I said, delicately taking her hand.
The moment our hands made contact she pulled me forward into a hug, pressing herself against me and patting my back. I was glad for my armor, but I still cringed away from the unwelcome contact, pushing at her stomach almost by instinct, trying to get loose.
She didn't let go right away, but I managed to extricate myself. As soon as I was free I hovered up into the air and turned on my shield, the pale green glow snapping up around me.
"Sorry, armbands haven't arrived yet," she said, as if nothing had happened. "Lower priority for transport. What else do you need?"
"Um..." I said, trying to get my mental footing. "Tell me about Islamabad? Why is the Simurgh attacking here? Do we know?"
"Well, first off, we're not in Islamabad. It's over there," she said, pointing toward the mountains and moving her arm in an arc. "We're in Rawalpindi. Islamabad is Pakistan's center of government, and Rawalpindi is where much of its military is based. They're technically separate cities, though they're physically connected. Islamabad is new, purpose-built in the nineteen sixties to house the government, but the area is one of the older places of human habitation on Earth. It is divided into grids, zones, and areas, with specific purposes in administration, education, commerce, and so on. The Simurgh touched down in the city's F-5 civilian district several minutes ago. She is twelve point two miles away, twenty three minutes by road. Her purpose is unknown."
It was a bit chilling to think that the Simurgh had touched down now, while I'd been talking. It felt like the presence of an Endbringer should be more obvious, even a dozen miles away. Leviathan had been heralded by a brutal storm, and his actual arrival had coincided with a tidal wave. While it was cloudy out now, there wasn't anything else to indicate what was currently happening. Not even sirens in the distance. Did Islamabad – and Rawalpindi, I supposed – not have them, or had they already sounded?
"Okay..." I said, trying to think of something constructive to ask. "Who's fighting her now? What are all the capes in those other fenced-off areas doing?"
"The local Pakistani heroes and villains are currently engaging the Simurgh," Glimmer said, tilting her head slightly, her fingers hovering near her sides and twitching slightly. I hoped it was some sort of technology rather than a weird nervous tic or something. She was already freaking me out enough. "The Triumvirate are in support, as well as several other prominent members of the Protectorate. The capes nearby are other extra-national teams, including the Suits, King's Men, Elitnaya Armiya, Perez Cartel, and Yangban. More are arriving continually, and many of them are currently awaiting permission from the Pakistani government to engage."
I frowned. "Why?" I asked. "Surely now would be the best time to engage, when it hasn't had time to do anything yet?"
"I don't know!" Glimmer replied, sounding even more cheerful all of a sudden. "But that's an interesting question! I'll start researching right away!"
"No, wait!" I said, as she started to turn away. She stopped and froze, her head tilting sideways again and her fingers twitching. "Um... what should I do? How will I know when to attack? What's the plan, here?"
"The plan is to wait," she said. "When the armbands arrive, they will be disbursed. Once that happens attack orders will be given as deemed necessary by the Initiative Strategic Team."
"And where are they?" I asked. "Or is there some kind of... I don't know, observation area or something? I don't want to just stand around and wait."
"You aren't standing," she said, "you're floating. The Strategic Team is located in New York City, in the state of New York, in the United States of America. There are several possible observation areas, where long-ranged reconnaissance is being performed. They are not available to unaffiliated capes. But Armsmaster, head of the Johnson Initiative, has registered you as a temporary member. Follow me."
She un-froze then, completing her turn and walking off. In contrast to the almost mechanical nature of how she recited information, as soon as she was in motion she sort of... shimmied, crossing her legs with each step and shaking her hips side-to-side. One more off-putting thing about an already unusual cape. But as we moved through the sectioned-off area of tarmac, around projects in various states of activation, I noticed that she wasn't necessarily alone in that. It wasn't every Tinker, but for every three or four that struck me as fairly normal – like the heroes and villains I was familiar with in Brockton Bay – one would be... different. Sometimes it was a flamboyant costume, sometimes they yelled or declaimed rather than spoke, and some of them moved with broad, flamboyant motions.
Was that unusual, I had to wonder? Was it a regional thing? A Tinker thing? Or were there just more capes that were like that, outside the Bay? Or, possibly, was it that the sort of Tinker who would be enticed to join something like the front-line anti-Endbringer arm of a program like the Johnson Initiative would be one with something to prove?
Come to think of it, Jeff had been a bit like that, back when he'd been Uber. Leet had too, from what I'd seen. Still, it seemed weird that there were so many of them around. I really had to wonder why, though I doubted I'd have enough time to find an answer.
The air thumped nearby, followed by a screech, and a missile arced away towards the mountains, leaving a trail of smoke behind. More joined it a moment later, dozens and dozens, launched from somewhere just outside the airport. Ten or more seconds later they detonated. The actual sight of them was blocked by intervening trees and buildings, but I could still hear it, faint in the distance. The sound of explosions.
"That is a battery of Pakistani army Type 83 self-propelled rocket launchers firing one hundred and twenty two millimeter rockets," Glimmer informed me, without turning to look in my direction.
"Right," I said. It made sense, if Rawalpindi was a military city. They'd have the weapons here already, so why not use them?
"We're here," she said a minute later, gesturing toward a group of huge screens – some up to eight or nine feet across, all either dark or showing nothing but static – gathered together along with a bunch of other equipment under a yellow dome-shaped forcefield. Wires coated the ground thickly, almost a foot deep in places, some even trailing up into the air where they connected to a variety of floating devices. Some were held up by balloons, rotors, or other conventional methods, but a few just hovered there, bobbing a bit in the breeze, as if they were floating in water.
"Thanks," I said, turning toward her, but she was already walking away, swaying her hips. I frowned, but I didn't complain. Honestly I was just happy to see her go.
I approached the dome somewhat hesitantly. There were half a dozen Tinkers in there, setting things up or arguing with each other. Some were dressed a bit like Glimmer had been, more in terms of light equipment than anything else, but two of them were armored. One of them, a woman in a suit of statuesque power armor that reminded me of an Egyptian god, was working with the others, in a hot debate with a man in an onion-shaped helmet and crackling gauntlets.
The other was less involved, and noticed me right away. He wasn't wearing heavy armor, but his costume was clearly meant for combat. He had feathery wings folded on his back, connected to a sculpted breastplate, and a sword sheathed at his hip. Both the wings and the sword pulsed with golden light, like a heartbeat.
"Hey, come on in," he said, making a beckoning motion to me. "Company's a bit suspect but the view is good. Or it will be soon."
"Thanks," I said, approaching him. "I'm Aeon, from Brockton Bay. Kind of don't know what I should be doing right now."
"No problem," he said, smiling at me. He only had a domino mask covering his face, and he was pretty good looking. Maybe a bit older than Pinnacle, with long, wavy brown hair and a strong jaw. "I recognize you, Aeon. Impressive work against Leviathan, I must say. I'm Icarus, by the way, out of Fresno. Used to be independent before the whole Initiative thing."
"Oh, good to meet you," I said, unsure of what else to say. Then I noticed his wrist, which sported an armband in a design I recognized from my last Endbringer fight. "Hey, when did the armbands get in?"
"Hmm? Oh, few minutes ago," he said. "Got dropped off through the teleporter. Hang on a sec."
He stepped toward the screens and the chaos surrounding them, scooped up an armband out of a box of them, then tossed it to me. I shut my shield off and caught it, started to slide it on.
"Actually hold on a sec," Icarus said, reaching into the box again and holding up a slightly bulkier armband. "You bomb or no bomb?"
"Um, no bomb," I said. "At least that's what Armsmaster told me."
Whatever his response was, it was interrupted by a triumphant shout from the woman in the Egyptian-themed armor. "Alright everyone, scanners are up! Feast your eyes!"
The screens snapped on, all of them showing minor variations on the same theme. An obviously residential area, full of houses and businesses, with winding roads, interspaced with greenery. There were craters all around, though, and some of the buildings were on fire. The angle wasn't right to see many of the roads, but the ones I could see were empty of either cars or people.
But that wasn't what drew my attention. Up above the street, surrounded by a floating shell of debris that some scanner had rendered transparent, was the Simurgh.
It was smaller than Leviathan had been. Half its height at most, and slender. It looked like a woman carved of pale marble, eyes closed, with hair the same color as its body, longer than it was tall. What gave the Simurgh bulk, and menace beyond just reputation, were the wings. Dozens of them, of all different sizes. Asymmetrical, protruding at odd angles, with some wings sprouting from other wings, and all of them a pale white. They spread out in every direction, some of them several dozen feet long, with some of the small ones folded to provide a kind of modesty.
I didn't see the point. For all that the Simurgh was objectively beautiful, I couldn't see anyone sane ever thinking of it as anything but what it was, regardless of appearance.
It took me a moment to even notice the fighting. Dozens of lasers of all colors – hundreds maybe – pelted in from every side, showering the shield of rubble and causing it to freeze, burn, or shatter. Legend. Alexandria and Eidolon were there too, harder to see than their teammate – or at least his power – but no less effective. Alexandria smashed through the shell of material while Eidolon sent waves of gravity at it, crushing sections of it to the ground. But the debris wasn't precisely a shell, with a defined inside and outside, and the Simurgh was never in the center. As it moved, so did the Simurgh, and the Triumvirate couldn't seem to get a bead on it.
Others were there as well, heroes and villains I didn't recognize, fighting in their own ways. Lasers, fire, electricity, all of it arced in from every direction, pulverizing the shield or piercing through it, but the Simurgh barely seemed to care, floating with ease through all of it. If I had thought that being in a residential area, relatively free of cover, would be a problem for the Endbringer, what I was seeing would have swiftly dissuaded me.
Still, even the Simurgh couldn't avoid everything. Eidolon drew back, a ball of rippling energy clenched in one fist, then he thrust it forward. The screens fuzzed, static replacing the images for a moment, and even the underside of the clouds lit up with flashing white light. The sound reached us a moment later, a weird warbling sound, along with a momentary feeling of disorientation.
When it was over, the screens recovered, the Simurgh had curled up into almost a fetal position, wings curled protectively. The shield of rubble was less than half the size it had been, and what was left glowed white-hot, drops of material – all materials – dripping down onto the ground. More floated up to join it quickly enough, though, and whatever he had done had left Eidolon panting, arms hanging at his sides.
The Simurgh slowly uncurled itself, wings first, and turned an expressionless face and closed eyes right at the camera. Staring at us straight-on, as if it could see through the defensive shell as easily as we could.
Icarus hissed in a breath and recoiled, and even I took a step back.
Just then, Armsmaster's voice spoke through my armband. "Those hearing this, you are designated first wave. Converge on the area marked on your map and prepare for the attack."
So, I see Lisa doesn't want to be too far away from Taylor right now. I wonder if she suspects something being off in retrospect about how the Coil thing went down.
"It's a collaboration, then?" I asked, glancing around. Honestly, the inside looked pretty plain. Maybe utilitarian. But not something I'd associate with an advanced tinkertech aircraft. "How much do they cost?"
"Proximately seven billion dollars each, mostly for the exotic materials needed," he said.
The Simurgh slowly uncurled itself, wings first, and turned an expressionless face and closed eyes right at the camera. Staring at us straight-on, as if it could see through the defensive shell as easily as we could.
This is a hilarious image. Four drones, each with a weapon strong enough to punch through buildings, as well as a bomb, are unceremoniously kicked out of the ship as soon as she arrives to tumble down and hit the ground.
"The local Pakistani heroes and villains are currently engaging the Simurgh," Glitter said, tilting her head slightly, her fingers hovering near her sides and twitching slightly.
Alexandria and Eidolon were there too, harder to see that their teammate – or at least his power – but no less effective. Alexandria smashed through the shell of material while Eidolon send waves of gravity at it, crushing sections of it to the ground.
Just then, Armsmaster's voice spoke through my armband. "Those hearing this, you are designed first wave. Converge on the area marked on your map and prepare for the attack."
He nodded again, coming to a stop at the edge of the roof. As he did, a shape zipped into view just past him, nearly fast enough to look like it had teleported. A dark, almost liquid blob, spindle-shaped, narrow, and vibrating slightly as it came to a stop. Part of the surface jiggled for a moment, then flowed away, revealing some fairly normal-looking metal panels and a door, which folded down gangplank-style to rest just at Armsmaster's feet.
Just as planned! But who planned it? Dun duunn duuuunnnn!
LacksCreativity said:
The knowledge of just how fast I was currently moving, and how fragile some tinkertech could be, lent a sort of hard edge to everything.
...
Shield or not, hitting the back wall at thousands and thousands of miles an hour would probably kill me.
But, don't you want to test it, for Science? (You monster)
LacksCreativity said:
What I'd settled for was just keeping them more or less up on their edges, lined up in front of the door. As it folded down I just kicked them over, one at a time, to tumble down the ramp and clang onto the pavement outside.
One of the nearby Tinkers had to have seen Aeon just casually kicking her drones down the ramp like she was from a bad moving company and started laughing out loud.
LacksCreativity said:
two huge robots, several stories tall, with multi-barreled guns for arms
One of them, a woman in a suit of statuesque power armor that reminded me of an Egyptian god,
...
Whatever his response was, it was interrupted by a triumphant shout from the woman in the Egyptian-themed armor. "Alright everyone, scanners are up! Feast your eyes!"
Poor Pinnacle, he tries to watch out for Taylor but is stopped by just how fanatical she is about being a hero. I can only imagine there will be consequences about the fact she also didn't talk to her dad before leaving for an Endbringer fight as well. Also if it wasn't for the Princess shielding her from mind effects, Taylor would be exactly the sort of cape who would need a bomb bracelet at these fights
Poor Pinnacle, he tries to watch out for Taylor but is stopped by just how fanatical she is about being a hero. I can only imagine there will be consequences about the fact she also didn't talk to her dad before leaving for an Endbringer fight as well. Also if it wasn't for the Princess shielding her from mind effects, Taylor would be exactly the sort of cape who would need a bomb bracelet at these fights
Was it the princess who shielded her, or was it the Champion? I thought it was the latter, and that the Princess only came to the scene when Butcher-shard was trying to take Taylor over. Has there been a single scene (or WoG) where the Princess has actually demonstrated the ability to shield Taylor in any way? @LacksCreativity, can you confirm/deny, or is that something you havent told us yet?
Anyway, if Taylor is infact not resistant/protected against mind-control anymore, then that might potentially fit with the "corruption" arc name (if it refers to Taylor). One would hope that Taylor would realise how potentially bad it would be if she to get mindscrewed by Simurgh, and just stick to long-range remote control. But it would not be the first time Taylor does something foolish.
Wonder how the fight will go. Given the precog/dodging abilities Simurgh has, I wonder if the drones should even be able to hit. Though I suppose something else might immobilize the Simurgh first.
Also, poor Danny. His last contact with Taylor is her going to fight Noelle, and now Taylor has run off to fight the Simurgh. Or did Taylor contact him/send a message offscreen during the interludes? To report that Noelle did not kill her and all. Really, I would think that given what happened, Taylor should have contacted him. Did she I wonder?
I thought she saw Imp through her visor though? Would that not have prevented Imps power from working regardless? Or is it fanon that Imps power does not work through cameras?
We don't actually know. The only time we see a Simurgh fight from anything like first person it's from the point of view of Krouse, before he drank his vial. Taylor never fought her.
That said, I'll confirm that not all armbands have bombs in them here, and that there's a reason.
Well the first big reason I can think off not to give important people exploding gear would be what were to happen if the Simurg somehow got to whomever has the detonator.
Well the first big reason I can think off not to give important people exploding gear would be what were to happen if the Simurg somehow got to whomever has the detonator.
Holy crap. I live in G-5/2. That's like 2 km away from where the Simurgh arrived. I'm going to go up on my roof and see if I can catch a glimpse of her
The Simurgh has no need whatsoever to get within tk range of a person with the detonator to get it used. It is such a tempting target to send one of her manipulated targets after.
