[] Explore the Dragonslayers' (maybe?) base
Meltdown 7.4
It doesn't take you long to come to a decision. Debriefing to the PRT, while a necessity, is just so boring most of the time. If Samantha is willing to take on that burden, you will gladly let her, and you might even consider it repayment for setting up that disastrous confrontation with your dad on Friday.
Hopping up to a rooftop, you hold your staff up in victory. Which it totally is; you took out the Dragonslayers singlehandedly and are headed over to break their stuff. You just guaranteed Dragon will never have to worry about them hacking her ever again. "Storm, put in the coordinates." The Device chimes. "Spatial Translocation, activate."
The light fades away, and you blink a couple of times as your mask adjusts to the dim light within the base. You suppose it's a good thing the Dragonslayers care enough about the environment to turn the lights off when they leave, but that being said, villains really need to learn to be more courteous to heroes who come to raid their lairs!
You snicker at that thought, still giddy from your success, and start investigating. Closest to you is a set of frames, seven in total, and in four of them are different suits of hulking power armor. Obviously the Dragonslayers' suits, with the missing three being those the villains were wearing. Farther in that direction is a large shadow that resolves into the Sybaris as you move closer. What is left of the Sybaris would be the more appropriate description, unfortunately. The rotors have already been ripped off, and a pyramid of cylinders sitting on the floor must be the suit's drones. Were they taking it apart to build a new suit, or to take pieces to patch up those they already use? There is no way to tell.
Nothing you can do about that right now. Shaking your head, you walk deeper into the room and through a door to find what is either the most geeked-out gaming rig of all time or the computer system Saint used to keep track of Dragon. Six screens face one of those expensive ergonomic chairs that has been revamped and set into a moving track. There are not one or two but three different keyboards on the desk, as well as two unadorned sheets of either aluminum or plastic below the desk itself. Somehow, you don't think these are simple footrests, but what they are you haven't a clue.
So you bend down and poke one.
Your calculated risk pays off as the screens come back to life. As complicated as this setup is, you doubt Saint is stupid enough to have something dangerous at his feet where he could kick it accidentally. The four screens on the outside show different videos, camera feeds you guess, and most of them feature capes dying in gruesome manners or the thirty-some-foot-tall humanoid known as Behemoth. Watching the Endbringer wave his arm and flash-fry a group of fliers with a wave of lightning, you shudder. Not going to this fight was definitely the better choice from a self-preservation perspective. A few of the videos drop out to be replaced with code similar to the lines and lines of text that are scrolling down the two middle screens. You took computer classes at Winslow and now at Winterrose, but this? This is so advanced that you wouldn't know where to start interpreting it.
Did Saint truly understand what he was looking at?
There isn't a mouse anywhere you can see, and you examine the foot stands again. Trackpads, maybe? As cautiously as you can, you slide the toe of your boot over the surface of one of them. You expect a cursor to pop up, but instead several of the screens move around and change views. You aren't sure what you just did, and you would rather not play around with this setup anymore. A single Flare Shooter bullet forms in you hand, but you hesitate when its light shows multiple boxes hooked up to the cluster of CPUs and open motherboards wired together behind the screens. You originally planned to destroy the Dragonslayers' computer system, but now you aren't so sure if that's the best idea right now. This is all firmly beyond your understanding. Perhaps you had better let Tim and Dragon examine it first.
Not to mention, the Dragonslayers somehow managed to hack Dragon for years without her knowing it. If she can see how they accomplished that, she can patch whatever holes in her defenses they been exploiting and keep this from ever happening again.
"Storm, keep track of these coordinates. I think we'll be coming back sometime in the very near future."
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
«
Mistress? Miss Militia contacting you.»
You pause in the petting of your Guardian Beast and look down at the jewel hanging around your neck. "Miss Militia? Why?" Not that you mind her calling you. Even on a normal day, when she calls it is important, and this is not a normal day. It is unlikely in the extreme that the PRT would bother someone in the middle of an Endbringer fight for anything mundane. Even the most important news could wait until the heroes were no longer in a life-or-death fight against a malevolent force of nature.
Whatever it is, it is better than watching the clock and waiting for the fight to be over. Which you definitely have not been doing.
Perfect Storm apparently decides to connect you in lieu of answering an unanswerable question. «
Calamity? It's Miss Militia.»
"Hey, what's—"
«
We don't have time to talk. You need to come to Penn Presbyterian immediately. We'll be waiting for you in the ICU.
«
Captain is in critical condition.»
You barely remember the flight to the hospital. As soon as you arrive on the roof, Samantha pulls you to a stop. "Stay behind me. We need to walk through the hospital to get to the fourth floor, and we can't do that in costume. Well, shouldn't. I'll go first since no one should recognize me immediately"—She waves at the long skirt hiding her tail and the hat covering her ears—"and when we get close, you can duck out somewhere and transform. I'll cover for you until then."
You want to argue against all this cloak and dagger nonsense, but you force the words back down your throat. Arguing will just take more time.
Dropping down from the rooftop, you quickly transform back to civilian clothes and follow a dozen steps behind your Guardian Beast. Conveniently, you can split up at the elevators to make it look less likely that you are together. How many people will actually care? None. But like you vaguely recall Samantha saying on the way over, you can't do anything yourself to help your dad. Leave that to the doctors. You need to make sure you and he still have secret identities when he gets better.
Because he will get better. He has to.
Once the sign for the neurologic ICU comes into sight, Samantha discreetly points at a nearby ladies' room. A detour, a flash of light, and you're storming out of the bathroom and into the private family room where Miss Militia and Chevalier are waiting. "What happened?" you demand.
"It seems the Ukrainians were working on an anti-Endbringer weapon," explains Chevalier, taking a step closer and crossing his arms behind him. "That is likely why Behemoth targeted Kharkiv in the first place. They had a cannon firing phase-shifted shells that seemed to be able to penetrate Behemoth's skin. After the first few, he began deflecting them as best he could. We believe they were actually causing damage to him."
"And? My— Captain should have been in the command center, not on the front lines!"
"He wasn't," Miss Militia says quietly. "Behemoth was flinging the shells that far. He might have been aiming at the city with that one instead, we can't say. Either way, that's where it landed."
"Is…" You shake your head. "How badly is he hurt?"
"The healers' tent was undamaged, thank goodness, so they fixed most of his physical injuries. The problem is that none of them can heal the brain."
Samantha reaches over and pulls your closer at Miss Militia's words. You force yourself to ask, "What's wrong with his brain?"
Instead of answering, she sighs and waves for you to follow. Your father's room is right next to the door, and some incomprehensible sound escapes you when you see him hooked up to a ventilator and IV bags and pumps. A domino mask sits on his face, the sole nod to the rule of identities.
"Panacea couldn't do anything for the swelling that developed after the explosion, nor could anyone else there. He and the other Thinkers they could save are in hospitals throughout the country. Very few healers can affect the brain, and the few who possibly could by and large refuse to do so for ethical reasons." She waves at the room. "We need to trust good, old-fashioned medicine for this."
"What are his chances?" Samantha whispers.
With visible hesitation, Miss Militia shrugs. "The doctors said it was too early to tell. Some people wake up and recover, even with this degree of brain trauma. Some… don't."
Leaving the woman behind, you slowly walk into the room and wrap your hand around his. Only one person could possibly see your tears, and he is incapable of doing so.
It turns out Penn Presbyterian actually has a dedicated neurotrauma ICU, and they've had a general neuro ICU since early 2011 at least. Pretty convenient for my needs, and something to keep in mind if you ever get a serious brain injury in Philadelphia.
I think that should do it for this arc. Interlude next week, and then the AAR. Arc 8 should be on time since I've mostly planned that out, and Arc 9… isn't completely blank? If you haven't guessed, I have only the vaguest long-term plot for this, though I think we're somewhere around the halfway-ish mark. Or we will be sometime next arc. Maybe.
Anyway, schooling time. For fighting the Dragonslayers, you get one spell. Pick it, vote it, no moratorium.