A Chrysalis Amidst Embers (Worm/Honkai Impact, Fusion)

1.8: Interruptions
When Amy woke it was, as usual, with considerable resistance. She did not appreciate the cruel claws of wakefulness pulling her from her rare moments of sleep. Never had, and never would. She groaned internally. Her alarm hadn't gone off. She could just go back to sleep, and… she sniffed. Was that coffee? And bacon? Crap, she'd forgotten to set her alarm hadn't she, Carol never made her breakfast before Amy had to be up to get to school.

She grumbled aloud, rolling to the side so she could kick her legs off the bed in a well-practiced movement… and promptly fell off it with a loud thud.

"Ow."

"Amy?" called a voice she couldn't place. "Are you alright?"

"Mrgh," she grunted back, struggling to a seated position and finally opening her bleary eyes. Which showed a large entertainment center that they certainly didn't have. She rubbed at them, as if that would somehow make it make sense.

There was a shuffling from somewhere behind her. "Kiana, no," said the voice from before, with an air of habit, "this is for everyone, so you're going to have to wait."

A responding 'huff' punctuated the lightbulb going off in Amy's head. Right. She had gotten ditched by Vicky being a ditz, and gone home with Mei for dinner. Which turned into dinner and a movie. Which turned into her spending the night because Vicky hadn't even checked her damn phone. Probably went on a date with fucking Dean or something after. Hopefully just a date, because if Vicky had stood her up because she was getting laid (gag) Amy was going to kill her.

"Stupid Vicky," she muttered, standing up a bit unsteadily. The girls had better not take as long to shower as Vicky did in the bathroom, because she did not want to wait that long.

"Bathroom?" she asked, a bit louder, looking around. Ah, the two girls were in the kitchen, with Bronya nowhere in sight.

"Should be empty," Kiana called over to her. "Down the hall, on the right. Not the left, that one's the basement."

She grunted something that sounded vaguely like a 'thanks' in return, making her way in the indicated direction… and almost falling flat on her face when the basement door opened up and Bronya stepped out, directly into her path. She probably would have fallen if Bronya hadn't caught her, holding her up with one arm.

"I apologize, Amy. I did not mean to cause you to fall."

Amy grunted a response rather than swear at the girl and steadied herself, at which point the girl released her grip. Bronya closed the basement door behind her with a surprisingly loud 'thud,' then stepped out of the way.

"Are you looking for the restroom?" Bronya asked.

Amy set her jaw. "Yeah." And if this tiny nerd wanted to beat her to it she was gonna have another thing comi–

"There." She indicated a door.

…she could escape The List for now.



Amy scowled and checked her phone again. Vicky still hadn't texted her back. She could text Carol, but… that wouldn't go well. Mark was out for the usual reasons. Aunt Sarah or Uncle Neil would bring in Carol. She scrolled through her contacts, stared at Crystal's entry. To bug her, or not?

Her frown lingered as she skewered some scrambled eggs to a piece of bacon. Mei was a startlingly good cook, as it happened, and actually went to some effort for morning breakfasts. She usually just poured some cereal, herself.

"Amy, is something wrong with the food? I'm sorry, I didn't ask what your preference was, but you were still asleep, so–"

"Huh? No, why would there be?" She looked up to find Mei giving her a concerned look.

Mei hesitated. "You seem displeased."

"...not the food." Amy shook her head. "Food's good." She took a deep gulp of coffee and made a face at the bitterness. It didn't really do much to take the edge off things. Her sleep had been garbage, and she was going to have a headache by noon at the latest. Whoever had decided couches were an acceptable place to sleep should go to the Hague.

"Hm. Our schedule for this day has changed," Bronya said suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Mei asked.

"Arcadia is closed today."

Amy looked up from her coffee, shaken from her efforts at caffeine-based divination. "Wait, what? We just got back in, we don't have any holidays."

"Not a holiday, but a credible parahuman threat. School has been closed while the authorities handle the situation."

Amy blinked and checked her phone. No new texts, but one unread email saying much the same. Which wasn't much at all. She scowled and fired off a text to Vicky, then duplicated it to Crystal.


Amy blinked. A large… ape? How had that happened? Were Uber and Leet up to their dumb nonsense again?


Amy looked up from her phone to find that she'd missed something, because now Kiana was whining.

"Not only do I have to go to Winslow, you don't have to go to school at all? What's 'fair' about that?"

"Should have gotten better grades then," Amy said, shrugging. She'd never been an academic genius, but she'd done it. Buckle down and do it and it'd happen just fine.

Kiana pouted. Bronya raised an eyebrow. Mei sighed. "You should get going, Kiana, or you'll end up in detention again."

Kiana blinked, stared at the clock, and bolted from her seat, quickly enough that her still-damp hair whipped into Amy's cheek. Amy glared, but the other girl's retreating form proved impervious to her gaze.

If only she had eye lasers…



"Morning, Dauntless."

"Morning, Assault," Shawn answered, placing the coffee pot back in the machine and turning to regard the other man. It wasn't exactly easy to tell, given the visor, but… "Long night?" he ventured a guess.

Assault grunted. "Yeah, city was nuts last night. Only managed to snag a few hours."

Shawn frowned. "Wait, what happened? I didn't get a call." He stepped aside from the coffee machine, which had presumably encouraged the visit in the first place.

Assault stepped up to it, poking at it to make a new pot. "It's a mess, let me tell you. First, Purity quit the Empire last night. Or that's word on the street, anyway, she hasn't said anything official. Hookwolf got in an argument with her, and she left. Blasted at Kaiser when he tried to stop her."

He frowned, turning that over in his mind. "So the Empire is down their fastest flier and best blaster?" That would make engaging them much easier. "They're not going to take that lying down."

Assault shrugged. "Yeah, but not much we can do about it. And if that means they get distracted with infighting, even better."

Shawn nodded slowly. If the Empire did split, like they had after Allfather's death, and Iron Rain and Kaiser's resultant falling-out, then… well, it might increase the overall amount of cape fighting in Brockton Bay, but less coordination was still better than more. He hoped.

The coffee machine beeped, and Assault began pouring himself a mug. "Anyway, on top of that we have… three confirmed cape fights last night. That I know of. Glory Girl, Laserdream, Battery, and Triumph got in a very extended fight with Munsin and Oni Lee. Nobody won or lost – well, Triumph lost, broke an ankle, but that was an unstable-ground thing more than anything. Flattened a chunk of the docks, though. Munsin proved that we'd been underestimating her, but still no idea by how much."

Ah, Shawn thought, drinking his own coffee. That would explain why Assault was up all night; he and Battery were… he didn't know how they defined their relationship, actually. Together. And lived together, certainly. He must have been pulled in by simple proximity.

"And the other two?" he asked after a moment's silence.

"Visage was on the warpath," he answered, then took a drink of his own coffee. "First they beat the crap out of Gargoyle when he tried to rob an all-night gas station, then they brawled with Crusader, Alabaster, Victor, and Othala. Mouse Protector joined in to give Visage a hand with that one; Ravager hopped in and tried to take out Mousey for about a minute before realizing that was a stupid-ass idea. Street was pretty much totaled."

Huh. "What color was Visage?" The enigmatic independent appeared to be an armored humanoid figure of solid energy (jury was still out on whether this was a power-generated armor, a transformed Breaker-type state, or a projection), but their color varied between appearances, and with it so did their powers. Usually, it was somewhere in the cool greens and blues, which seemed to generate a larger, more durable form that in the former case could bind opponents with energy 'ropes,' and in the latter could generate stationary energy barriers.

"Kind of a reddish-purple." Shawn didn't remember that one; Assault seemed to see that and continued. "A bit smaller than usual, spiky, angular. Very fast and strong. Every time Alabaster got back up they just smacked him once and he went down again. If there were any other special abilities, they didn't show any."

"Huh. Some sort of up-close-and-personal form?" Dauntless' money was on a customizable projection of some sort. But given Alabaster's imperviousness to pain, genuinely putting him down with one hit meant a rather strong attack. Especially if they did it again every six seconds when his body reset to 'healthy.'

Assault shrugged. "I'm not about to guess how the hell that power works. Haven't seen that form since my early days in the Bay, though. Before your time." Assault finished his mug and stuck it in the dishwasher. "Oh, and before I forget, your meeting this evening got moved to the afternoon, don't know why. Check your inbox, Battery almost missed it."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed," Shawn answered, finishing his own mug. Good thing he'd taken the files home with him last night. Otherwise he might not have had enough time to finish.



When she arrived at the front gate, Kiana was still wallowing in the injustice of Winslow being in session while Arcadia, which by all accounts was objectively better in every way, got the day off. It wasn't until she saw the security guard standing just inside the entrance that she snapped to attention. That was unusual and very suspicious. She never saw school security at Winslow, for basically any reason at all. At the very least everyone else seemed to find it as strange as she did – the yard was full of students muttering to each other and sneaking glances at not just the security guard at the front gate, but a couple others scattered throughout.

What the hell?

Kiana scanned the yard again, and adjusted her course to take her over to a pair of people she sat next to in Math class, affecting a perplexed frown. "Hey, Daniela."

The short Latina girl nodded. "Morning, Kiana. Don't suppose you did the math homework?"

Kiana coughed. "Not uh… not really, no. Was gonna rush some of it during lunch if nothing came up."

Daniela laughed, though her friend Steven, a tall, lanky pale boy, looked annoyed. "Are you ever going to do your homework at home?"

Kiana gave an awkward laugh. She tried, honestly! It just… didn't usually happen. "Maybe someday!" She gave him a cheerful smile, then frowned. "But uh, what the hell is up with us having security all of a sudden?"

"Beats me," Steven shrugged. "I'm just happy they're around. Break up fights earlier, you know?"

Daniela looked around, then leaned in to the two conspiratorially. "I heard that Blackwell was doing a big crackdown after the last couple days. That locker thing, the fight in the cafeteria, you know. They actually searched a couple lockers and called the police on Felix Vance and Kim Imai, and a bunch of other people are missing today."

Kiana gave a thoughtful 'hmm' and lowered her voice, pretending she didn't already know the answer to her question. "Those two are dealers, right? Since when does Winslow actually bust a dealer who isn't a complete moron?"

"Maybe she's scared that the fighting in the city would come here? Lot of cape fights last night. Lung got in a fight with Kaiser, Damsel of Distress showed up in the trainyards, and New Wave got in a fight with a giant monster living in the bay!" Steven grew more animated as he went. Kiana blinked. That… really didn't sound right.

Daniela rolled her eyes, mouthed 'I'm sorry about him' at Kiana, and started to pull him away. "Can't believe everything you read online about capes, dude. At least use PHO, rather than whatever weird fringe boards you can't stay off of."

"But PHO is censored! It won't tell you what the PRT doesn't want you to kno–" His rant was cut off by the start-of-day bell, for better or for worse. Mostly for better. She wasn't sure what PHO was, but from what Daniela had said it might be a useful information source on the current goings-on. Or at least better than a madman's rambling.

Kiana sighed, adjusted her backpack, and got moving. If weird monsters were really attacking the city at night, the least they could do was take Winslow out while they were at it. You know, as a public service.



"...these are just preliminary investigations, but the picture they paint is alarming." Shawn paused to let that sink in before continuing to his conclusion. "I think we should investigate more thoroughly, particularly given Miss Clements' confession. This is much more complex than it seemed at the start, and I have no explanation for the parahuman involvement at all." Shawn glanced around the room, doing his best to hide his unease.

The meeting room wasn't the one Shawn had expected; instead of one of the standard briefing rooms, they were using one of the nicer rooms typically reserved for long-distance consultations and Director meetings. The wooden 'C'-shaped central table was not completely filled, but neither was it sparsely attended. One one end, Director Piggot sat next to Deputy Director Renick, covering the PRT end of the meeting. On the other sat Armsmaster and Miss Militia, representing the Protectorate end of affairs. Battery sat in between them, though closer to Armsmaster and Miss Militia, as his fellow assigned investigator. He, of course, stood in the open end of the 'C' to give his presentation of the facts so far.

A sense of foreboding had coiled in his gut when he'd first seen the list. The investigation had to be more significant than he had thought, if it warranted the direct presence of the Protectorate leader, PRT director, and both of their lieutenants. Normally, these sorts of status reports only required one PRT and one Protectorate representative, not twice that number, and the most senior representatives of each. That obviously explained why the meeting had been moved – it was difficult at the best of times to get that many schedules to line up – but even without much of a head for politics he could see the warning signs.

He hesitated, then decided it was as good a time as any. "Speaking of, Director, Armsmaster… I assume some of the significance has to do with the redacted name in the reports, but I wasn't cleared to see it. I'd like to request to be read in on that, as it seems likely to be core to the investigation."

Piggot's mouth had thinned to a narrow line, and she sighed. "I was hoping we could get through this investigation without that, but… yes, I'll approve it. Probably should have done so from the start. Armsmaster?" She looked over at the man. "Any objections?"

Armsmaster shook his head, a frown on his lips, eyebrows furrowed. "No objections, I'll sign off on it." It was odd, Shawn reflected, to see the man without his helmet. Presumably nearly as odd as it was for them to see him without his. But that was the protocol for meetings in secure rooms, and he approved of it for that matter. It was better to have the interpersonal connection from face-to-face contact. Though wearing his helmet would certainly have helped him feel a bit less uncertain giving that briefing.

Piggot grimaced. "The redacted name in the reports is Sophia Hess. You'd know her better as Shadow Stalker."

Shawn's eyes widened, and he resisted the urge to curse. That explained far too much. The focused investigation, the redacted identity, and possibly the parahuman involvement. It even explained his own assignment – it wasn't just because he needed the experience, but because he'd been present at Shadow Stalker's hearing. He hadn't been much more than a mouthpiece, but he had seen all the evidence of her vigilante career, as well as the arguments in her defense. He had context that his fellow heroes would need to get second-hand.

"Allow me to confirm something," Armsmaster said, not giving Shawn nearly as much time to absorb that as he'd have preferred. He acknowledged the feeling that brought up in him, the feeling of persecution, and let it go. He knew Armsmaster was jealous of him, likely disliked him in general, but he'd never known the man to deliberately undermine others. It wasn't a personal jab.

"You said that Principal Blackwell could not produce the security tapes, because the security cameras had been offline for several days, correct?"

Shawn nodded, glancing at Battery. She'd been the one to actually have that conversation, he was just synthesizing. "That's my understanding."

Armsmaster followed his gaze to Battery, who nodded in assent.

"In that case, Director Piggot, I'd like to formally request to add Dragon to this meeting. She has some crucial information." Wait, what? How had the Tinker become involved in this situation? She hadn't deployed a suit to Brockton Bay in ages, and he was fairly confident she lived in Canada. And didn't go outside – if you didn't count suits, at least – in any case, so how she could be personally involved was beyond him.

Piggot frowned, training an irritated stare at Armsmaster that Shawn privately felt could drill through bulkheads, given time. "You should have told me about this before now, Armsmaster. I don't appreciate surprises."

Armsmaster just looked back impassively. "You'll understand why I didn't after her input."

She scowled, drumming her fingers on the table, but finally nodded. "Fine. Loop her in."

Armsmaster inclined his head, activating his standalone visor, and a moment later one of the telepresence units activated, the sphere inset into the table limning itself with blue light before a hologram of a woman's shoulders and head appeared.

Dragon looked much the same as she had last time Shawn had seen her. Very average in appearance, pretty in an unremarkable way, with pale skin – not surprising, given her evident agoraphobia – and long brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Director, Deputy Director. Armsmaster, Miss Militia. Dauntless, Battery." She nodded to each of them in turn. "It's good to see you all, though I'm sorry about the context."

Piggot crossed her arms and let out an annoyed sigh. "Just get on with it, Dragon. We don't have all day."

"Of course. Dauntless, if you wouldn't mind?" She gestured to the center where he stood, and he circled around, taking a seat next to Battery. The moment he sat, the central projector lit up, and Dragon's hologram moved from 'seat' to 'center.'

"I received a tip on Monday about this incident, via an anonymous email, approximately thirty-seven minutes after the call to emergency services was made by Miss Kaslana. Before you ask, it was anonymized well enough that I didn't feel it would be feasible to backtrack it."

"Monday?" Renick asked. "Why did it take this long for you to bring this to us?"

"I was doing some maintenance on several core processing units, so lower-priority activities like tip processing were delayed. Additionally, I needed to verify the content."

"And this content was?" Piggot asked, drumming her fingers on the desk again.

"It purported to be security footage from Winslow High School that morning. I have examined it thoroughly, and it is, as near as I can tell, unaltered except for the start and end times. It is possible that the video has been falsified, but it would require a high-level Thinker's involvement, which I believe to be unlikely at this time."

"Footage from Winslow High School. Who already told us that no such footage existed." Piggot's ire had only grown, though her death glare was at least not directed at anyone in the room.

"That's correct. The attached message informed me that they did not send the Brockton Bay PRT the data directly due to uncertainty about the implications on the investigation, and saved the footage in the first place due to concerns about the Winslow administration's 'well-known corruption.'"

Piggot's grimaced. "That reputation is exaggerated, but I suppose it proved useful in this case. Let's see this video."

Dragon looked around the room, gaze lingering on Shawn before she looked back to the Director in obvious question.

Piggot waved a hand irritably. "We read him in on Hess earlier, just get on with it."

Dragon nodded, and her hologram shrank, taking up the corner of a newly-appearing holographic video screen, paused on a still image of a number of students milling about in a hallway. She gestured, and the image shifted slightly, subtly washing out the color from most of the image, leaving several figures still fully saturated, all teenage girls. He recognized Miss Barnes, Miss Clements, and Miss Hebert, and he supposed the fourth teen must be Shadow Stalker. He'd never seen her face before, but she was a Black girl of about the right height with similar hair, so she presumably matched.

The trio of girls encircled Miss Hebert against her locker. The footage didn't have audio, and he doubted it was high enough resolution for lip reading, but their body language was clear enough. The three were taunting their target in some manner. Miss Hebert, for her part, stood there stoically for some time before turning to her locker, working the combination lock. The trio of girls tensed up, and the moment the locker opened, they moved, even as Miss Hebert jerked back with surprise. Miss Hess shouldered forward, efficiently knocking her taller victim off-balance and forcing her into the locker before slamming it shut. As she did, Miss Clements and Miss Barnes turned around and closed in on Miss Hess, somewhat obscuring the view of the other students, and saying something as onlookers started to react. It wasn't until the crowd had thinned out that the three stepped away from the locker, revealing the new padlock. The locker itself seemed to shake slightly, but Shawn wasn't sure if that was really the case or just him projecting. That poor girl had to have been trying to force her way out, even if it was futile. After an exchange between the three, they split up, leaving the hallway empty, save for a few unidentifiable pieces of refuse that had escaped the locker. The video stopped.

"I can confirm with seventy-six percent accuracy, given this video quality, that the individuals in this footage are indeed Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, Madison Clements, and Taylor Hebert," Dragon added.

Shawn glanced around at the others. Director Piggot was red with anger, hands white-knuckled where they gripped the desk. He was a bit worried, actually; given her physical condition, that couldn't be healthy for her. Armsmaster looked impassive as always, though his eyes seemed to be a bit narrowed. Angry, maybe. Battery and Miss Militia both looked as angry as he'd ever seen them, though neither said a word. Deputy Director Renick simply looked affronted.

"Agent Palmer," Renick said before Piggot could speak, "sent me an update on Winslow's response to the situation just before the meeting." Shawn didn't recognize the name. "She provided a list of students that Winslow had turned over to police or otherwise disciplined since Monday, and said that Principal Blackwell was instituting a 'thorough crackdown.' It took my secretary ten minutes to confirm that, while those students all had been taken into custody or disciplined by the school, a large number of them were rounded up during last night's gang activity, not by the school as reported."

Piggot let out a deep, shuddering breath before sweeping her gaze around the table. "I want a full investigation on Winslow High School, Sophia Hess, and Agent Palmer. Palmer has done a piss-poor job of monitoring Hess and Winslow. I want to know since when and why." Her hands curled into grasping claws. "She'd best hope that she's just incompetent and needs to get busted back down to the grunt squad, because if there isn't a damn good explanation for this she'll be lucky to get a job in the public sector ever again." She ground her teeth loud enough that Shawn could hear it, then looked over to Armsmaster. "I want Hess grounded until further notice." The man nodded. "Confine her to quarters or stick her in the brig the moment you have the justification for it. Renick, get them everything they need on Palmer. You have full authority to pursue this investigation anywhere you need to. I will not have this kind of corruption in my city." She grinned, but it wasn't a happy grin, more of a vicious showing-of-teeth. "If someone, I don't care who, has a problem, point them at me. I'll deal with the politics. You just get the job done. Understood?"
 
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1.9: Morning Questions
Content Warning: Homophobic slurs

Crystal was tapping her foot impatiently when the door finally opened, revealing a surprised Vicky. Her younger cousin looked better than she had last night, at least, even a partial night's sleep having evidently done wonders. Though the fact that the girl was still in her pajamas, not to mention her hair, made Crystal suspect she'd been trying to sleep in.

"Oh, hey Crystal. What's," she let out a yawn, covering her mouth, "what's up? Mom's at the office already if you were looking for her."

"Nope! Actually, I'm here for you."

Vicky blinked, then stepped back, gesturing Crystal in. "You didn't mean that to sound ominous, right?"

Crystal waved a hand dismissively. "No, no. Just got a favor to ask and a message to pass on."

"Sure, whatever," Vicky yawned again, and Crystal resisted the urge to do the same, "does the favor need me to leave the house?"

"...technically no. I just want to borrow that duffel bag you used last time we visited Uncle Mike, 'cause mine got shredded last night. Need to pick some stuff up for a friend."

Vicky shrugged. "Sure, knock yourself out," she pointed at one of the hallway closets. "In there, up top, I think."

"Thanks!" Crystal opened up the closet in question, floating a few inches off the ground to better root around for it.

"So what's this message, and why can't it just be a text?"

"Well it could be," Crystal answered as she found it, carefully tugging it out from under a suitcase, "but your phone's totaled, remember?"

A pause, and the faint sound of hand hitting forehead. "Oh, right. So, what is it?"

"The message is that Amy wants you to pick her up, and is annoyed that you ditched her last night." Crystal closed the closet up again.

"Oh, right." Vicky did not look particularly surprised when Crystal turned around. "She at Brockton General?"

"Surprisingly, no," Crystal shook her head. "She said she crashed at a classmate's place."

Vicky's eyes lit up. "Did she now…" she grinned.

Crystal rolled her eyes. "Don't push your luck, Vicky. She wants you to meet her at, uh, some coffee shop nearby." She checked her phone, snagged a Post-It from the nearest desk, and scribbled the address down.

"Sure," Vicky yawned again, still smiling, "just gonna take a shower first…" she floated lazily up the stairs, rubbing at her eyes.

Crystal sighed and slapped the note on the door. "Address is on the door!" she called after Vicky, before floating off herself. She had her own visits to make.



It had been a while since she'd seen the Barnes house, but it was more or less as she remembered it. More or less pitch-perfect upper-middle-class-nuclear-family vibes with the neatly manicured lawn, carefully tended flowers, and recently-repainted walls.

There was one car in the driveway, so one or both of Anne's parents were likely home. She took a deep breath before nodding to herself and dropping down onto their front porch. She didn't know what had happened yesterday, and was more than a little worried about walking into a potential minefield, but… well, it sounded like Anne needed it.

She rang the doorbell, and waited. If neither parent was home… well Anne presumably had house keys, so maybe Crystal could borrow them from her and use those? It'd save her a really awkward conversation, at least.

The door opened, revealing Zoe Barnes, dressed for the day but with dark circles under her eyes. She stared blankly for a moment before recognition hit her. "Oh! Hi, Crystal. If you're here to see Anne…" she trailed off a bit, looking a bit uncertain.

Crystal shook her head. "Actually, Mrs. Barnes, she asked me to come over." She took a deep breath and straightened, leaving her looking a bit down at the woman. "She wanted me to pick up some things for her and Emma."

"O… oh." Mrs. Barnes let out a heavy breath and stepped aside. "I was… hoping she'd come do that herself." The woman sounded… hurt, tired. And Crystal had no idea what was causing it or what, if anything, to do about it. For all she knew, her mother had been the one to drive Anne out. Crystal fixed PR-Friendly Neutral Expression #3 on her face and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"Where are they? Wait, I…" she sighed and shook her head. "No, that's the wrong question. Are they safe?"

"Safe?" Crystal tilted her head. "Why wouldn't they be safe?"

"I just, look, I don't know where they are, they could be anywhere and Brockton isn't exactly a safe city and…" She rubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry. Just, make sure they stay safe, alright? No matter what, they're my baby girls."

Crystal hesitated. She shouldn't ask. She should take the easy route, get the things Anne had asked for, and bring them over. She shouldn't get herself any more entangled in this than Anne asked. It wasn't her place to get involved in their family struggles. She shifted uncomfortably.

The silence lengthened. Would not knowing really help? Or was it just her wanting to avoid having to make a judgment? Was she really being respectful of Anne, here, or was she just hiding from the possibilities?

"...what exactly happened?" she asked, finally.

Mrs. Barnes hesitated in turn. "I don't… think it would be appropriate for me to give details. There's a lot I'm not sure about, and I don't even know how to put what I do know properly." Her brow furrowed in concentration. "To summarize, since Anne asked you to get involved anyway. Emma did… something very bad to someone I care about. Alan and a friend and I fought over it, and it got… vicious. Anne took Emma and left."

Crystal stared. What on earth could Emma have done that could cause an argument like that? The way Mrs. Barnes put it, it was like Emma had… she didn't even know. Everything she could think of was either not enough, or too much. She shook her head to clear it.

Mrs. Barnes sighed. "I appreciate that you're there for my daughter. Daughters, even if it's just incidental. I won't… won't ask you to convince them to come back. But please, if you could ask them to at least keep in touch, so I know they're okay…"

Crystal took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll let them know you asked that, but I can't promise anything."

Mrs. Barnes eyed Crystal carefully for a long moment. "I'm glad Anne has a friend like you." She gestured to the stairs, while Crystal tried to figure out whether there had been a subtle emphasis on 'friend' or if her mind was playing tricks on her. "Their rooms are upstairs, you know the way."

"Ah… right, Mrs. Barnes. Uh… thanks?"

She made for the stairs. And if she went a bit faster than was strictly normal, it was a coincidence. Just a coincidence. Any allegations to the contrary were libel most foul.



The coffee shop was a nice little place Vicky hadn't ever heard of, the sort of quiet, casual environment where people might hang out with their friends. A variety of places to sit, from table to booth to bench to a pair of old easy chairs, all with a cozy, comforting atmosphere. For all that, it wasn't particularly packed, but she figured that was mostly a result of the time and day – it was after the morning rush, and still in the middle of the week, so it would miss both of its probable crowds.

With its relative emptiness, it was easy to spot her sister, waiting for her drink off to the side of the counter. Vicky spent a moment buying herself a pastry, then slipped up behind Amy, just the tiniest touch of flight to keep herself from making too much noise.

Amy still didn't look up from her phone. So Vicky grinned and wrapped her arms around Amy in a bear hug. Amy stiffened up for an instant, but relaxed into Vicky with a sigh. "Vicky," she grumbled, "you scared me."

"Psh, you knew it was me." Vicky squeezed Amy a touch tighter before releasing her.

"Only because you brushed my arm," she muttered. Vicky just smiled. That was the whole reason why she'd done it, not that Amy ever seemed to realize. She'd learned a long time ago that Amy would spook with surprise contact, unless her power – or Vicky's aura – told her it was Vicky. They were in public, so her aura was on lockdown – well, as locked down as she could get it – so making sure her hand brushed Amy's arm was the obvious solution.

"So, Ames," Vicky glanced at the barista curiously, who was pouring… some sort of liquid into a cup. She'd never really gotten into the whole 'fancy coffee drinks' thing. "What abomination are you drinking today?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Insulting my drink isn't going to get you back into my good graces, Vicky." The barista put the beverage in front of Amy without giving the two of them a second glance. Whatever it was, it had whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles on top.

"Please, warning you about the diabetes-in-a-cup you're about to drink is my solemn sisterly duty." Vicky turned and led the way to a corner table, taking a seat. Amy sat down with a huff.

The two sat in silence for a bit, Vicky taking a few bites of her banana bread while Amy nursed her probably-80%-sugar-by-volume concoction. As much as she teased Amy for it – and legitimately worried about the health effects – she knew that Amy didn't really feel like herself until she'd had enough sugar and caffeine to wake the dead.

When she guessed that Amy had had about half of her cup, she leaned in with a conspiratorial smirk. "So, give me the deets?"

"Vicky, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"What was it like?" Vicky's smirk widened. The fun part of ambiguity with Amy was that she won either way.

Amy looked confused, then her cheeks started to flush with embarrassment. "Vicky! I didn't…" she scowled. "Look, we just had dinner. Because you ditched me."

"Forgot about patrol, can't be helped," Vicky answered, smiling innocently. "I even gave you money for a nice dinner for the two of you. How was the restaurant?"

Amy's scowl deepened, and she went back to her drink. "We didn't go, because Mei already had plans for dinner. She cooks for her roommates."

"So you availed yourself of her hospitality? What did she make? Was it delicious?"

Amy glared. "...pasta."

After a long pause, waiting futilely for her sister to elaborate, she prodded again. Sometimes getting anything out of her was like pulling teeth. "And what else did you do? Come onnn, give me the sordid details!"

Amy glared, but Vicky just kept smiling. It wasn't a genuine Amy glare, just a curmudgeonly one. "Vicky, you ditched me across town because you couldn't keep track of time. I had no way back, I hadn't eaten, you abandoned me with a practical stranger, I slept like shit, and now you're prodding me like it was a hot date!"

But… it was a date. Like, definitionally, it was dinner with a cute girl she liked. Vicky half-frowned. Maybe it was a genuine Amy glare after all. But, wait. She tilted her head. "What do you mean, no way back?" Amy'd had plenty of options. She would never strand her sister in a genuinely dangerous situation.

"It was after sunset, what was I supposed to do, walk?"

Vicky groaned internally. Come on Amy, it was basic problem solving! "...call Mom or Dad or Aunt Sarah or Uncle Neil or Crystal?"

Amy reddened and stared down into her chocolatey drink. Vicky thought about pushing further, but let it be. She needed to get over her embarrassment for missing the obvious – or her embarrassment at how obvious her excuse had been, Vicky wasn't quite sure which.

Silence continued. Vicky reached over and squeezed the hand that wasn't occupied holding her beverage. Amy flushed again. "Look, Ames, I'm sorry I left you there. I won't do it again, okay?"

"Good," Amy muttered.

"Can you forgive me?" Vicky's eyes widened, trembling, as she gave it her best puppy eyes.

Amy flushed again, then sighed. "...fine. Fine. Just don't do it again."

Vicky brightened back up, giving Amy's hand another squeeze before releasing it.

"So. Care to tell me what happened?" She smirked, rubbing her right fist into her left palm. "I've gotta know whether I need to make a statement about people being rude to my sister."

Finally, Amy let out a deep sigh. "I played uh. Some game. With Bronya. It didn't suck."

"Huh. I thought you didn't like video games?" Vicky tilted her head. Amy had always been the sort to just roll her eyes at them for being dumb.

"I don't." She sighed. "But, I don't know. I wouldn't hate doing it again." Vicky couldn't stop herself from beaming as she leaned back in her chair. Score one! A new hobby and a new friend, maybe? Or maybe Bronya was the one she was crushing on? Vicky made a mental note to see how her sister reacted to the tiny girl. Maybe she liked girls shorter than she was? That would explain a lot about why she hadn't shown interest in many people, given how short she was. But that did seem a bit far-fetched, given that Bronya had approached her at school.

"Hey, stop looking at me like that," Amy scowled. "We watched a movie after."

"Dinner and a movie?" Vicky leaned in. "Sounds like a date. Did you… snuggle up against one of them when the movie was scary?" Amy's scowl deepened. "Maybe touch hands when passing the popcorn?" Amy's blush returned. Jackpot. But… something else. Something dark passed over Amy's expression, and she went from embarrassed to outright downcast.

"Annnd where'd you sleep? Guest room? Shared a bed? Did one of them nobly take the couch for you?" Push on through whatever it was.

"Couch. Their couch sucks." Vicky winced. That would probably explain why she was so grumpy, at least. She propped her chin up on her fists, leaning forward with her elbow on the table. Amy's eyes went from the table, up to Vicky, and then jerked back down like she'd been burnt. Something definitely had her out of sorts.

If Amy didn't feel safe around the three girls, that would be one thing, but… well, even if one or more of them were parahumans, Amy could have called mom or Aunt Sarah for help if she felt threatened. The fact that she didn't probably said enough. But! Maybe she could get a few more juicy details out.

"Sooo, what did you think of them?" she asked, winking conspiratorially.

Amy made an annoyed grumbling sound. "Fine, since you won't leave me alone–".

"Damn right," Vicky interjected with a grin. Amy rolled her eyes.

"–about it. Bronya is less scary than she seems. Kind of nice actually. She was good at walking me through the game. Still weird, though." If Amy was tolerating her weirdness, though, that said a lot. "Mei is very…" Amy tilted her head. "Warm? She was really insistent about the duties of a host though. I guess it was nice." Vicky nodded. Seemed like Mei was a nurturing type. Maybe that would be good for Amy? "And Kiana…" Vicky's attention focused as a flurry of emotions crossed her sister's face. Most she couldn't recognize, though there looked to be some of that sadness she felt so often, and… curiosity? "…uh. She's nice."

"Nice." Vicky raised a brow and leaned further forward, letting her voice drop into a conspiratorial whisper. "And what else?"

Amy flushed and looked off to the side. "And impulsive and doesn't study and doesn't pay attention and…" she mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

Amy drained the last of her cup in a transparent ploy to buy time. "And… and thoughtless and a glutton," she stared down at the table "but… kind."

Good, gooood. Her fiendish plan to get her sister more friends – or girlfriends, she wasn't picky – was proceeding apace. She hurriedly wiped the expression off her face, before Amy looked back up and saw her looking like she should be stroking a cat in her lap.



Crystal was overburdened, duffel bag hanging from one shoulder, a stuffed-to-the-limit backpack that didn't fit her on the other, and a carry-out bag in each hand. It was manageable, but awkward and inconvenient to walk. Flight would have drawn way too much attention to an already awkward situation. So instead she cheated.

Letting her flight take effect handled the weight; it wasn't that she was stronger in flight, per se, but the power could take a certain amount of mass with her, and it carried it for her. She didn't want to actually lift off, or float weightlessly, but she didn't have to. She could fly downwards just enough to fake gravity, more or less, and walk normally. It took some attention, like rubbing her stomach and patting her head at the same time, but it was doable as long as she didn't get too distracted. Mentally tiring, but worth it.

She fished out her keycard, swiping into the dorms, and started up the stairs to Anne's room, all the while wondering just what, exactly, was going on. Emma had done 'something very bad,' but not so bad that Anne wouldn't watch out for her. Whatever it was had caused some sort of argument between their parents, so it… hm. What did that mean? Something murky, maybe? Did the Barnes parents not agree that it was bad, maybe?

She was still frowning when she reached Anne's door, and, holding her breath, she raised her hand and knocked.

There was a shuffling inside and a few moments later the door opened, revealing Anne. Anne, who looked like a spring wound too tight, all nervous energy searching for an outlet. She had that peculiar not-quite-squinting tightness around her eyes that she always had when she had a headache, and she was wearing her glasses, rather than her contacts. She was still in her plaid pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, and her hair was a bedheaded disaster.

She was gorgeous, and Crystal's heart clenched at the obvious signs of stress. But she couldn't show that, or she'd just make things worse for Anne.

"Hey, Anne," she said while Anne was still processing, adopting PR-Friendly Smile #2. "Brought your stuff, and took the liberty of grabbing breakfast while I was at it."

"Oh! Oh, thank you so much, I didn't expect…" Anne stepped aside, gesturing for Crystal to come in. Crystal stepped inside, nudging the door closed behind her with a foot, and got her first look at Emma Barnes.

She'd met Emma before, though not often, usually at the occasional cookout or other gathering between the Barnes and the Dallons. The last time she'd seen her, the girl had been energetic, confident, carefully made up and purposefully dressed, the very image of the kind of high school prom queen you'd see in those awful high school comedies.

Now she was none of that. Emma Barnes sat on the spare bed, half curled in on herself, and looked awful. Hair tangled and unkempt, makeup smeared where it hadn't been rubbed away, and what remained decidedly wasn't up to the task of concealing the dark circles under her eyes. She was watching the door, but when Crystal met her eyes she shied away, something approaching fear flashing over her face.

Crystal solidified her smile, put the breakfast bags down, and set the duffel on the bed near Emma. "Clothes for you are here. I don't know what your style is, so I tried to keep the pieces flexible or neutral."

Emma started. "You went through my clothes?"

Crystal shrugged the backpack off before setting it down. "Sorry, but it was me or your mom, or no clothes at all, so…" she made a face. "I didn't go nosing around, don't worry."

She stared at Crystal, like she was looking for something, and confused about it, before finally nodding, unzipping the duffel to go through it. Crystal turned to Anne. "I picked up breakfast for you both – and me, I haven't eaten yet – but tried to keep it simple. Vegetable scramble, toast, some muffins. Does that work?"

"Crystal, you didn't have to…" Anne said, looking a bit overwhelmed.

"No, but I wanted to." Crystal smiled, genuinely this time. If it helped at all, it was worth it.



The door closed behind Emma as she stepped outside, towel, toiletry bag, and change of clothes in hand. The sound seemed to trigger some of the tension draining from Anne, since she immediately sagged, shoulders dropping as she slumped against the wall.

Crystal's eyes widened, and before she knew it she was across the room, Anne's hand in hers. "Anne? Are you okay?"

Anne took a deep breath and shook her head. "It's… this is all so much."

Crystal bit her lip. She didn't want to know. She needed to know. She didn't want to pry. She wanted to understand. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, and she wished her voice didn't quaver as she did.

Anne nodded mutely.

"Okay." Crystal squeezed her hand. "We've got a little bit before Emma finishes her shower, but not long. Do you know where you want to start?"

She shook her head. Crystal's heart clenched.

"Okay. Your mom said Emma did something very bad. Can you tell me what that was?"

Anne swallowed. "She… she hurt Taylor."

Crystal tried to place the name. It was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't figure out where from. "Taylor?" she asked finally.

"My… the girl I texted you about. Who Amy healed. She and Emma grew up together. They were best friends. Loved each other. Her mom was my mom's… something. Old friend, or… maybe ex. I watched them when they were younger, often. She wasn't quite a little sister to me, but… something."

Crystal frowned, unpleasant suspicions taking shape in her mind. "And she hurt her? What do you mean?"

Anne swallowed. "I've been trying to get her to open up, but she hasn't yet. She, she… there were journals, records. Of Emma and two of her friends bullying Taylor, badly, for years. Then they, she… Annette said that they put her in the hospital. I don't know. I just can't imagine why. They were so close, what could possibly… and Emma, she's usually so proud, so confident. But ever since yesterday, it's like something broke. I don't know. I just, I don't know."

Crystal's frown deepened, and she squeezed Anne's hand comfortingly while thoughts whirled in her head. If it was the same girl, the same incident, then the PRT was already investigating it. If Emma had done something like that, then they'd dig it up. Unless they decided the parahuman was… she blinked. Something didn't add up. Those changes in Emma didn't sound natural.

"Anne, the news said there was a parahuman involved, right?" Anne nodded. "And Emma's behavior changed, drastically, right? She hurt her close friend, and there were dramatic personality shifts?" Anne nodded again, and Crystal could see the gears turning in her head.

"You're not saying…" Anne asked, with dread and hope all in one.

"Are you sure we're not dealing with a Master?"



Emma Barnes didn't care for the showers at UMac.

She hadn't known that before, had only seen their restrooms once or twice, when visiting Anne, and never to shower. But she knew that now, for certain.

Cold, slippery tile. Dull, sterile stalls. No heating. Dull yellow lights.

But the water pressure was good, and it got hot fast, and it was enough to let her bask in the shower, in the repetitive motions of washing her hair, of working out the tangles. Her hair was important, she had to take good care of it–

"Give her a dyke haircut then!"

She shuddered. Nails dug deep into her palms.

Pain in her scalp, hair pulled taut.

A rough movement behind, a knife jerked through. Pressure ceased.

She unclenched her hands with effort. Turned the heat up, until it was almost scalding.

It hurt, but that was fine. Good, even. She focused on that, let everything else melt away, burn away.

Until the bathroom lights cut out. She jerked to attention. She hadn't heard anyone come in. Did the power go out?

She couldn't see a thing in the pitch black that filled the room. Couldn't hear anything but the water.

She was fumbling blindly for where she'd left the shampoo, so she could finish her shower and get out, when she heard it.

A rough scraping sound, like metal dragged across pavement. Slow. Deliberate.

She held her breath, like if she didn't breathe it wouldn't see her, wouldn't find her. Like the shower wasn't already making her presence obvious. She did it anyway.

There was motion in the darkness, she was sure of it, she could see them, like eyes, watching, waiting.

The scraping reached her stall. Something shifted, the stall door rattled in place.

She screamed.
 
1.10: Close Encounters (Of a Sort)
Due to how SV does responsive design, the PHO section will read best on desktop (or a wide screen like a tablet), or failing that in Desktop View on mobile devices. It is still readable on default phone view, but the columns don't... well, column properly. Will see if I can sidestep that issue in the future but no promises.

Edit: Think I fixed the issue.

Crystal was on her feet and at the door the moment she heard the scream, directing a quick "stay here" to Anne. It had come from inside, she was sure of it. A momentary glance around revealed that the bathroom door was ajar, but the lights were off. She shouldered her way in, wrapping a hard-light construct around one hand.

Illuminated by the reddish glow of her power and spillover from the hall, half of the room was clearly visible, and half was visible only in a reddish hue, with long, ominous shadows. One of the showers was on, but she couldn't hear anyone else.

"Emma?" she asked, looking around cautiously.

"C-crystal?" Emma called back from the shower, voice wavering. "Is it… is it gone?"

Crystal frowned and put more power into her construct, the red light strengthening as she looked around. "I don't see anything. What happened?"

"The… lights went out, and something was dragging across the floor, and then rattled the stall door, and…"

"Okay. Finish your shower, and I'll check the other stalls, alright?" Whatever else had happened, Emma clearly thought something else had been in here. And the thing with the lights was suspicious.

"Y… yeah." Emma said, and she could hear movement from the shower again.

Crystal reached for the light switch and flipped it curiously… and the lights came back on. She blinked. The lights were just off? That was… weird. Had someone turned them off, despite knowing Emma was in the shower? Rude, but not out of the question for college 'humor,' she supposed.

She dismissed the construct with a shrug, and made a point of checking the other stalls, finding nothing of note. The only anomaly she found at all was a set of scrapes along the tile floor, like someone had dragged something heavy across them at one time or another. Maybe from a few years ago when they did some remodeling, but she was hardly a tile expert.

"It's clear," she said finally. "I didn't find anything, and the lights were just turned off. Did you hear the door open? Maybe someone just tried a stupid prank."

Emma didn't respond, but the shower finally turned off, and a few minutes later the two were back in Anne's room, Emma looking somehow even more uneasy than when Crystal had arrived.

Anne listened patiently as her sister explained what had happened, then sighed once she'd finished. "I'm sorry Emma, I forgot to warn you. The pipes here make some really weird sounds, especially when they're heating or cooling."

Emma frowned, and Crystal didn't need to know her well to tell that she wasn't convinced by the explanation. Which, to be fair, in her place Crystal wouldn't be either. "But, the door rattled, I know that wasn't coming from the pipes."

"Well, the bathroom door was ajar when I got there. Maybe whichever asshole decided to prank you didn't close it, and the pressure differential shook the door?" It was honestly a bit thin of an explanation, but she couldn't think of anything more plausible. Beyond Emma just imagining it, at least.

But if she was… maybe it wasn't just a trick of the mind.

Crystal met Anne's eyes, and she could tell that Anne, too, was thinking over what she had said before. Maybe a Master was involved after all.



Kiana sighed and snapped her textbook shut, stowing it back in her bag. Twenty minutes of staring at blank sheets of lined paper, trying to will herself to just do the homework, was about her limit. There was only so much lunch break, and she gave it a try, at least.

Mei wouldn't be disappointed in her if she tried, right?

She sighed and sprawled down on her back, across the bench she occupied. School had been quiet so far, the usual suspects seemingly cowed by the school's crackdown. Angry mutters were widespread, but at least for the moment the gang kids were keeping to themselves.

She dug her phone out, poking at it idly. No new messages from Bronya or Mei. And damn, she'd forgotten to give Amy her number before she left. The freckled healer was pretty cute, but more importantly…

Amy's breathing was rapid and shallow now, and the girl was quivering.

"Amy, can you hear me?" Kiana asked again, gently, her heart clenching with sympathy.

She didn't respond. Her eyes screwed shut still more, and she swallowed, the healer seemingly lost to the outside world.

Her instincts said to hug, but not everyone liked that much contact, and she didn't want to spook the other girl.

Kiana reached behind herself, one hand taking Amy's, gently rubbing at the back of her hand with her thumb.

Amy gasped, and the tension started to bleed out of her. Not immediately, not all in one go, but steadily, consistently.

Whatever it was that Amy needed, it wasn't something she was getting. She didn't know what the source of Amy's anxieties were, but… she had reminded Kiana so much of Mei in that moment, in the first months after Nagazora.

She was going to have to find out more. But how? She'd heard of New Wave, of course, but she only knew the basics. Most of the local capes she didn't know much about at all. Where could she find out more…

Oh! Daniela had mentioned something called "PHO" for more reliable cape information. Maybe that would be a good place to start.



Boards⠀▸⠀News⠀▸⠀America⠀▸⠀East Coast⠀▸⠀Brockton Bay

Brockton Bay Weekly General Thread, January 6, 2013: Cloudy With a Chance of Gang War

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Bagrat
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Location: Behind A Keyboard
Pronouns: He/Him
 
Veteran Member
The Guy In The Know
(Pinned Post)

Here's what we know so far:

Monday 1/7
  • Empire hits an ABB chemical/drug warehouse, hiring Faultline and her crew to distract the PRT. This also confirmed that Absinthe is a new member of the crew.

    Edit: Absinthe confirmed speculation.
  • New Wave fights several E88 fliers, and captures Rune.

Tuesday 1/8
  • A lot of skirmishes between ABB and E88 members. Other gangs seem to want to stay out of it.
  • Purity quits the Empire after an argument with Hookwolf, maybe also Kaiser and Krieg.

    Edit: Purity confirmed quitting.
  • Glory Girl, Laserdream, Battery, and Triumph get in an extended battle with Munsin and Oni Lee on the docks. Thread with video and analysis here. Results inconclusive, aside from possible mild injury to Triumph.
  • Visage absolutely bodies Gargoyle when he tries to rob a gas station.
  • Visage goes on to throw down with the Empire, fighting Crusader, Alabaster, Victor, and Othala with Mouse Protector's help. Ravager briefly joins the party. Dedicated discussion thread here.

Wednesday 1/9
  • Threats made against Arcadia High School, serious enough that the PRT asked that school be closed while they handle the situation. Threats criticize the school for inequality in student selection and educational opportunity.
January 7, 2013
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xXVoid_CowboyXx
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA

Restricted

Why is no one talking about the incident at Winslow on Monday?

Edited by moderation staff
January 9, 2013
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Tin_Mother
What is it electric sheep dream of?
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Pronouns: She/Her

Administrator
@xXVoid_CowboyXx Don't doxx yourself or others. You're lucky you were still on the restricted list, or that would be all over the internet.
January 9, 2013
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Great_Ghoti
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@xXVoid_CowboyXx What's there to talk about? Someone got hurt at Winslow, happens all the time. And unspecified parahuman involvement in a mundane crime? How many cases of that are there on a daily basis in Brockton Bay?

If the PRT report shows that, I don't know, as a random example, Rune goes there in her civvies and got jumped by some ABB cape, then there'd be something. But until then it's a nothingburger.

User was warned for this post.
January 9, 2013
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daylight_dancer
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Fuckin hilarious that four big bad E88 capes got run off by a pair they outnumbered two to one, four to one at the start.

But well, Alabaster's useless, Victor and Othala may as well just be one cape (and let me remind you that Othala makes a very strong case for Victor being a pedo as well as a Nazi), and I guess Crusader's too scared to fight someone who can actually interact with his projections.

Bunch of blowhards. Why haven't they gotten run out of town, again?

January 9, 2013
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Bagrat
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Location: Behind A Keyboard
Pronouns: He/Him
 
Veteran Member
The Guy In The Know
@#_1_Fan My contacts are in agreement that the person threatening Arcadia High is a new (or rebranded) cape going by Firebrand. No, not the one over in Maine. Or the one in Australia.

…people really like that name, don't they.

No word on powers, though.
January 9, 2013
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True_White_Knight
Deus vult!
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: Sir/Sirs
 
Verified Cape​
Villain
It was a skirmish, @daylight_dancer, there was nothing but pride at stake. If you believe that disengaging from a pointless battle is a sign of weakness, then you are little better than those savages in the Teeth. It is no coincidence that we, as you say, "ran them out of town" like the beasts they are.

Your lack of strategic acumen is not my concern.

Incidentally, @Chromatic_Visions, your handling of Gargoyle was quite amusing, particularly the part where you swung him by his tail. Have you considered taking up the hammer throw?

January 9, 2013
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Stealing_a_Marche
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: She/Her

Veteran Member
I don't think this will spill over into the rest of the city, @brocktonian26. It could get bad, but like, the Empire and the ABB are less prone to totally random violence than we had in the old days with the Teeth or the Forgotten.

Of course, in the old days Marquis was still around to keep them in check, so it's probably a wash.
January 9, 2013
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Reave
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: He/Him

PRT Agent
@xXVoid_CowboyXx

We don't comment on ongoing investigations.

@#_1_Fan

You can find the official statement on the PRT ENE news page, and the situation is ongoing.

However, to sum it up for those of you who won't click through:
  • A parahuman released a statement this morning condemning Arcadia for providing "unequal educational opportunities" and "biased selection processes."
  • The PRT has reason to believe that this is a genuine threat that could lead to actual action.
  • The PRT is taking steps to minimize danger and apprehend the suspect before harm is done, including the temporary closure of Arcadia.
January 9, 2013
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Vista
Need some space?
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: She/Her
   
Threadbanned
Verified Cape
Wards ENE
Here, have a photo of what Purity did to the street. Just think what would have happened if she'd pointed that at Kaiser…

Shame she pussied out, but a girl can dream. Hey @Shining_Bright, you're still a Nazi shitbag, but I'll bake you a cake if you don't miss the fucker next time. Scout's honor!

User was banned for this post.
January 9, 2013
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Point_Me_@_The_
Sky
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: She/Her

 
@Stealing_a_March what is with you and the Marquis? Yes he was less psychotic than the Teeth or the Forgotten, and less evil than the Empire, but he had at least a double digit body count. "Less bad" is not "good."
January 9, 2013
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Clockblocker
Even a stopped clock…
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: He/Him
 
Verified Cape​
Wards ENE​
Ok @Feather_Fall I've gotta know. Can you fill a pillow with your feathers, and if so how comfortable is it?

@Vista you may want to edit that one down before you get infracted.

Edit: RIP
January 9, 2013
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Bagrat
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Location: Behind A Keyboard
Pronouns: He/Him
 
Veteran Member
The Guy In The Know
@Feather_Fall Thanks for the confirmation, I've updated the OP. I'd suggest getting your account verified properly, though – form is here.

@Clockblocker That sounds about as comfortable as trying to cuddle Hookwolf.
January 9, 2013
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Its_a_Grotesque
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
 
Verified Cape
Villain
@True_White_Knight Fuck off.

User was warned for this post.
January 9, 2013
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Alathea
Fiat justitia
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Location: Seattle, USA
Pronouns: They/Them

Moderator
@Great_Ghoti You're very close to the line here. Refrain from this kind of 'random example' in the future.

@Its_a_Grotesque You don't need to like others, but this is below the level of discourse we expect here.

@Vista Do not endorse murder. You should know better. Have a time-out.
January 9, 2013
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Stealing_a_Marche
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: She/Her

Veteran Member
@Point_Me_@_The_Sky

I lived in Marche territory, before the Brockton Bay Brigade (that's New Wave, for you young'uns) put him away and his lieutenants scattered.

I have not felt as safe as I did under his protection in the fifteen years since. Yes, he killed people, and that's awful. But as far as I'm concerned, throwing him in jail made the Bay more dangerous, not less.

Unless, of course, you're white and well-off.
January 9, 2013
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Shining_Bright
A light in the darkness
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
 
Verified Cape
Villain
Confirmed, I have left the Empire 88. I want nothing more to do with their misogynistic, scientifically dubious, myopic worldview. It only makes the world a worse place.

I will be making my heroic debut in the coming days. @Tin_Mother please remove my Villain tag and replace it with Independent Hero.
January 9, 2013
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Bagrat
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Location: Behind A Keyboard
Pronouns: He/Him
 
Veteran Member
The Guy In The Know
@Great_Ghoti @xXVoid_CowboyXx My contacts don't know anything about whatever happened at Winslow. Either it was nothing or it's super top secret. Occam's Razor suggests "nothing."

@Shining_Bright Edited the OP to account for this. Do you have anything more you'd like to add? Will you be renaming and rebranding?
January 9, 2013
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Feather_Fall
Just a ghost.
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: She/Her
 
Verified Cape
Mercenary
@Clockblocker Very briefly, and I wouldn't recommend it.

@Bagrat Done, thank you. Now how do I get the website off of this eye-searing white theme?
January 9, 2013
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Tin_Mother
What is it electric sheep dream of?
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Pronouns: She/Her

Administrator
@Shining_Bright I'll discuss it with the administration and moderation staff, but it is unlikely we will change it before you make concrete efforts towards reform.
January 9, 2013
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Point_Me_@_The_
Sky
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Location: Brockton Bay, USA
Pronouns: She/Her

 

@Shining_Bright Still a fucking Nazi. You've got a hell of a lot more to do than saying you quit and changing your costume to make up for that.

Wait, can you even change costumes, since yours is mostly the light you generate? Can you control the color you glow?

@Stealing_a_Marche He was a misogynistic asshole, ran drugs, forced protection money payments, disappeared people who opposed him, and you felt safer? Fat chance, we've got more heroes than ever, the Teeth fucked off to Boston, and the Forgotten imploded. No way you're safer now, unless you were a member of his gang.

Actually, that would explain a lot. What were you, Marche middle management?
January 9, 2013
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Kiana made a face as her phone's charge bar ticked from yellow 26% to red 25%. She'd need to plug it in tonight. The thing kept a charge for an insanely long time, she could probably put it off for another day or two, but… well, better not to risk it. Replacing it wasn't an option, after all.

The thread had at least done a decent job of filling her in on the current situation in Brockton Bay – the Empire and ABB gearing up for open war, smaller gangs battening down the hatches, sharp uptick in cape fights. Not just the expected Protectorate and New Wave ones, either, independents were taking part too.

Interestingly, while the fight against Munsin and Oni Lee had been a wash with four heroes and two villains, two of those independents had squared off against five villainous capes. Were they just that strong?

Visage was an enigma, but that had actually made them very easy to research – there just wasn't a lot to research. They seemed to be powerful and had been in Brockton Bay for a very long time, since before Kiana was born (...probably, she technically didn't know her exact birthdate but she couldn't be off by more than a year or so), typically operating as an independent hero, but with brief stints allying with or joining local independent heroic groups. Their power was either configurable or changed over time, so speculation there was dumped into its own subsection that made her eyes glaze over. Everything else – speculation that they had been a member of various other heroic or criminal groups, that they were actually another cape in disguise, that they were actually different capes with similar powers – was unfounded enough that she just ignored it.

Mouse Protector, on the other hand, was much more well-known, which meant her entry was long. One of the early Protectorate Wards, eventually became a full Protectorate hero, later went independent. She was a "comedy" hero, which Kiana didn't entirely understand – it sounded like she just made jokes while she fought villains? Why was that a whole category of cape?

The lunch bell rang, and Kiana jerked upright. Right. Class. She still had classes.

She could catch up on this thread and then look into this Mouse Protector girl later. Or… she grinned. She did have English next. And Mr. Wortham famously didn't care whether people paid attention in his class or not…



The map of Brockton Bay – in three dimensions, though it was still simplified – was coming along nicely, Bronya thought with no small satisfaction. She toggled the model's view, and parts of the city lit up in red, others in green, and many smaller washes of other colors. The model itself was an older project, of course: she'd needed a small-scale one to optimize her electrical taps and make sure the workshop's planned space didn't intersect with anything important, among other things, and after that it had only made sense to keep building outward, if with less detail. The newer element was the practical and strategic layer.

She had scoured the net for sites of gang activity, previous conflicts, known members and associations, and simple crime statistics, then used those details to approximate both what territory the various gangs held (both now and in the past), as well as where they preferred to deploy their forces. From there, a mix of her own analysis and careful application of her power inferred probable combat assets, some significant sites, and available resources.

For the Azn Bad Boys, this had been a relatively simple analysis, and an easy one to sanity check – while she had no way of knowing details like what the going rate for their chemical Tinker's more exotic goods were, or how frequently she sold them, she'd been able to apply some reasonable estimates for those factors and her resulting numbers had been within a reasonable range of apparent reality. It was still very much a work in progress, as she would need to gather and analyze quite a bit more data before it would meet her standards, but progress had been made.

The Empire 88 was proving more difficult, as the data was proving substantially fuzzier. The Empire's greater infiltration of law enforcement and news media meant that it was more likely for their activity to be ignored or downplayed by official sources. More local sympathizers meant that it was less likely for their activity to be reported accurately, if it was reported at all. The Empire's activities were more easily conflated with those of other, smaller gangs than the ABB's were, for simple demographic reasons – there were relatively few Asian members in non-ABB gangs, and substantially more white members in non-Empire gangs.

She was at the point of scouring social media records to try to refine her data points there, and that was a deeply tedious task. Hopefully, once she managed to get good data she'd be able to make proper inferences for the Empire, but… she wasn't sure. Something in her gut, some instinct that she couldn't name or define, told her that there was something she was missing here. The Empire just didn't feel right to her, and while she didn't know why, she suspected that it was for reasons more substantial than them being a collection of Nazi scumbags.

In the real world, someone said something, and she put her analysis to the side. She looked up, taking in the sights out of the window, and nodded. They had arrived.

"Thank you," she said to the cab driver, handing him a substantial tip, "For your discretion," she added. His eyes widened, and he nodded. She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out of the car. A quick glance down the road found the terminal she was looking for – FarSight Air – and she set off. She had a number of things to do before her flight if she was to perform adequately.



Kiana couldn't stop her leg from bouncing as the bus pulled up to its stop. She had been near-vibrating with energy ever since she finally escaped the clutches of Winslow High, because now she had a goal.

She was going to make a costume. Maybe she'd go out and be a hero, maybe not, but it couldn't hurt to have one ready just in case. Especially with things heating up, it'd be a good way to hide her identity.

She exited the bus, nodding at the driver, before making her way towards the shopping center. Mei preferred this one, she knew, for the good discount and used clothing stores; it'd be a good place to start, she figured.

Sadly, she didn't know how to make a proper costume, one of any of the sick designs she'd drawn up. And most of those still had the problem of no identity concealment, anyway. She'd need to get Bronya and/or Mei on board for that and… no. Maybe after she wowed them with her heroic debut, but not before. If she could help in an important fight, maybe… the battle with those ABB capes last night would have been a good chance. And the heroes clearly needed the help, if they couldn't pull out a win when it was two-on-four.

Admittedly, those two capes seemed pretty awesome. And yakuza were really the lesser of the evils in the city, when the Empire was right there. When one of the groups had hate crimes as their primary ideological goal, it sort of tilted things. Hm, maybe if the Empire was gone the ABB would fracture? The idea of a pan-Asian gang was pretty ridiculous on its face; hell, she'd seen the bigotry the yakuza back in Japan would direct at the Chinese and Korean populations. Probably only held together because of a common threat, so if you removed that threat… hm. Food for thought.

She shook her head, refocusing. For today it was all about low-budget, easy modifications. Something she could move easily in, something to conceal her identity, and… hm, what would she do for theming? If she went from a rudimentary costume to a fully-featured one, she wouldn't want to make people think she was a whole new cape. Maybe she could do a shared color scheme? That could work, she'd have to see what was availa–

Something touched her, and she jerked to a stop, looking around. There wasn't anyone within arm's reach. A few others were on the sidewalk, but none were paying attention to her, or acting in any way strange. The feeling continued, turned from touching to latching on and she realized it; it came from her Honkai senses, but it was something new, so she was intuitively translating it to something she understood. When she'd first sensed a trigger event it'd been the same way, first coming to her as a powerful sense of suction, like she was standing next to an enormous vacuum cleaner. This was different, though, this wasn't something happening around her, this was the pressure of something reaching in. Bile rose in her throat, and she backed away, eyes darting around.

The sensation ceased.

She stepped forward, experimentally, and it came back immediately, but 'reset' to the initial touching; this time she backed out before it latched on. Some sort of… area effect, maybe? She thought about stepping back inside, maybe tracking it to its source, but… then what. She didn't know what it did, didn't know what she could even do about it. What if it wasn't even attached to its source?

She sighed and looked mournfully at the shopping center. Whatever this area was, it was in that direction. Next closest place to look was… she sighed. The Boardwalk. Great. Just great.



Kiana hated the Brockton Bay Boardwalk. It was a strip of town for the wealthy and tourists, those with money to waste. It was a good place to be a pickpocket, and that was about it.

It wasn't all that bad – there were a few shops that looked legitimately cute, and if you went a few blocks out you'd start running into places your average Bay resident could genuinely afford – but it was mostly that bad.

And all of that was watched over, in turn, by the Boardwalk Enforcers. At this time of day there weren't many around, but they seemed to be a band of rent-a-cops running a protection racket. She supposed actually providing protection was better than some, but… they still gave her the creeps.

So, naturally, when Kiana gave it up after an hour's fruitless search – well, not entirely fruitless, she had some things she could wrangle together into a costume but it wasn't going to look like much – she took a route avoiding as many Enforcers as she could. It was in service of this that, when she ducked into an alley and took a blind turn, she almost ran directly into someone.

Both of them jerked with surprise, but the other person settled quickly. She was a bit taller than Kiana, with a sword buckled to her waist, and she wore a full, professional-looking costume– skintight material with integrated armored plates at vital areas, plated gloves and boots, with a utility belt and helmet. The colors, though, did not have the military look that the costume's elements themselves did. The underlayer was black, certainly, but the rest of the costume was rust-red and chestnut brown. The brown seemed to have a texture to it, like soft velvet, no matter if it was on the woman's armored plates or her cloak. There was a logo on her chestplate, looking like… three interlocked circles, maybe?

"Sorry about that!" she said brightly, and, as Kiana looked to her face, she saw the woman was smiling. Her helmet was not quite full coverage, leaving the olive-skinned woman's nose and mouth visible, much like the costumes of many of the local PRT capes did. Where she differed was in the details of the helmet. Where they had simple, businesslike visors covering their eyes, the woman had large, exaggerated eye-shapes around hers. Where their helmets were simple and sleek, the woman's had large, round ears sticking out from it.

It clicked. "You're Mouse Protector!" Kiana exclaimed. The logo on her chest was a stylized mouse head, of course!

"Got it in one," she grinned and bowed. "I'm glad to see I've a-moused enough reputation that people recognize me! I tell you, the first few months here no one got it, I was just squeaking by!" She straightened, still wearing that easy smile. "And may I have your name as well, mademoiselle?"

"Oh!" Kiana jumped. "Right! Kiana, Kiana Kaslana!"

Mouse Protector tilted her head, silent for a moment. "Is that Kiana Kiana Kaslana, or just Kiana Kaslana?" she asked, just before the silence became awkward.

"Oh uh, the second! Sorry, it's just a funny coincidence; I was just reading about you, actually!"

"Well, I'm always happy to make time for a fan! Tell me, how did you hear about me?" The ears on her helmet wiggled somehow, at that, and Kiana giggled.

"Oh, just heard about that fight you were in last night, and I was curious!"

"Tales of my derring-do, eh? Always happy to turn Nazis into Not-zis, if you catch my drift!"

Kiana grinned, then shifted awkwardly. What else did she have to say? Unless she wanted to out herself, she didn't really have anything to say on that front, and she didn't want to be rude. But that was one cool costume.

The silence lingered until Mouse Protector broke it. "Aha! Would you by chance like an a-mouse-ing souvenir of last night's excursion?"

Kiana blinked. "Uh… sure!"

Mouse Protector grinned and opened up a pouch on her belt, then proceeded to shove her entire hand into it, then her arm. Kiana stared. Some kind of… tinkertech bag maybe? Or did she have a space-bending power?

"I know it's in here somewhere," Mouse Protector muttered, rooting around in the pocket, rotating around slowly as she did, seemingly unconsciously.

It was when she was facing fully away from Kiana that something shifted, and there was a sudden presence behind her. A hand grabbed at her arm, moving to force it into a hold, but it was weak compared to her. The more pressing concern was the knife against her side, Honkai energy swirling around it. She let the person – woman, judging by the fact that she was now pressing up against her back – twist her arm into place. Better not to let her know that Kiana was a Brute. There were holds that still worked against people significantly stronger than the user, but this, thankfully, wasn't one of them.

Instead, she yelped with surprise. Mouse Protector whirled, posture instantly shifting from casual and friendly to tense, like a coiled spring.

"Why hello there Mousey," the woman behind Kiana – a bit taller than her, maybe of a height with Mouse Protector – practically purred. Kiana barely kept her act up, staying half-limp like a scared girl might. That voice was fucking unfair.

"Ravager." She couldn't see the woman's eyes, but from the way her jaw clenched, she imagined she was giving her best glare. "Let the girl go."

Ravager laughed, voice deep and rich. Kiana shivered. "Gladly, Mousey. I just need one thing from you, and I'll release the poor thing."

"This isn't funny, Ravager. I won't have you dragging innocents into our fight."

Kiana's eyes darted around, evaluating the situation. Alley, no good street view. No security cameras. She just needed an opening. She winked at Mouse Protector, mouthed 'Trust me.' Glanced meaningfully at the knife held to her side. The hand Ravager didn't have in her grasp, blocked from sight by Kiana's own shoulder, spread out five fingers. Closed one.

"Oh, it's hilarious, trust me." Mouse Protector stiffened, grew tense. "Give me something you have tagged, follow me in thirty seconds. You're going to give me that fight I didn't get last night."

Mouse Protector hesitated. Kiana closed another finger. Three.

Mouse Protector sighed and fished into a pocket. Two.

She pulled out a coin, eyeing it. Did something to it, the coin now shimmering to her Honkai senses. One.

She flicked the coin towards Ravager's knife hand, a bit off to the side. Zero.

Ravager's knife hand reached out for the coin, pulled away from Kiana's side. Kiana wrenched her arm free, sidestepped, and jammed an elbow into where she was fairly certain the woman's solar plexus was, pulling the blow enough to not break anything. Probably.

Ravager let out a startled grunt, stumbling backwards. Kiana turned, and her eyes caught on the glint of metal. Knife. She stepped in, swept the legs out from under the falling villain, and grabbed her knife wrist - earning a shallow graze on her arm for her trouble – and squeezed. Ravager yelped, the knife clattered on the ground. Kiana followed her fall, landing with one knee on Ravager's ribcage, the other still holding onto her wrist. Ravager struggled futilely for a moment, then struggled harder, presumably tapping into her self-enhancement. It was equally futile; Kiana just raised an eyebrow.

"...Brute," Ravager grunted. "Just my luck." Footsteps sounded behind her, as Mouse Protector's own dash slowed to a halt only moments from its start.

Kiana frowned. What did you say when you had a villain captured anyway? Grappled. Held down. She was named Ravager, maybe a pun off of— no, definitely not. Just her luck to be pinning the villain with the stupid sexy voice. Focus, Kiana.

"You were right," Kiana said after a moment. "This is hilarious."

Ravager glared. "This isn't over," she promised.

What? "Feels pretty over to–"

With a 'pop,' and a strange somehow-inverted burst of Honkai energy, the villain vanished. Kiana fell the rest of the way to the ground with a 'thud.'

"...not fair," Kiana muttered. Stupid teleporters.

"That…" Mouse Protector said from behind her. Kiana winced. Right. She'd just shown that she was probably a parahuman. To a cape.

"...was an a-mouse-ing takedown!" she finished. Kiana blinked. What? She turned around.

"You uh… used that one already," she answered, mouth working on autopilot while her brain tried to process that.

"Oh, Phooey." Whatever that pun was, it went right over Kiana's head. "Well, I admit I do have some questions. Want to have a chat over a bite?" Okay, that one was pushing it. "Or would you rat-ther just skip out?"

Kiana frowned. "Wait, you'd just let me go?"

"Yes?" Mouse Protector frowned in return. "What, did you think I was going to give you the Wards hard sell or something?"

"Well, kinda. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

"If I was a PRT cape, maybe." She grinned. "But you're looking at a strong independent Mouse! Bureaucrats just cheese me off, you know."

"Uh… I guess… I could talk then?"

"Awesome!" She gave Kiana a hand up. "Let me show you the Mousehole! Wait, no, belay that, forget I ever said it, that one really doesn't work." She frowned, muttering to herself. "Mouse-house? M-house?" She shook her head. "Back to the drawing board for that one. You don't weigh more than two hundred pounds, right?"

"Uh, no?"

"Great, hang on," she reached out, grabbing Kiana's arm, and with a 'pop,' the two of them were elsewhere.
 
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α.1: A New Battlefield
A/N: I've had an exhausting week, and my buffer is gone thanks to recent traveling, so this week's update is a self-indulgent crossover omake with @Avalanche's excellent BAHHSSCQ.

It's not strictly-speaking canon, and I'm not binding myself to it in the future, but you can certainly take some indications from it as to my current image of things.



Anna Sanchez frowned as she ran over the equations again, trying to dispel her misgivings.

The math returned the correct outputs. The physics seemed sound. So why did the procedure feel wrong?

Space warped and bent between Instructor Vivas' hands, the preparatory stage of Wave Force manifesting as a churning sphere of energy there. It defied her scans, the effect itself rendering it impossible for her to discern anything beyond its edge, but what she could perceive looked correct. "Ready?" she asked.

A dozen voices chorused confirmation. The Perth Arcology sent a ping in the affirmative.

Anna ran the numbers again. They didn't change. Neither did her instincts. She'd developed the Wave Force on that instinct, but that didn't mean that she could trust it above all else. She couldn't blindly follow her instincts. She knew that all too well.

A dozen pairs of eyes – or rather, sensor suites – were trained on Instructor Vivas. The others were as far back as they could be while still stretching their Impellers to the effect. Anna was the only one actually close by; if her intervention was required, she would need as much Impeller strength as possible.

"Anna?" Vivas asked.

She checked the math one last time. No change. She didn't like it, but this was important research. If they could actually control the Wave Force beyond simply pointing it in the right direction… if it could be directed, maybe even pursue an evading Type Zero…

It was important. Her own misgivings weren't. She extended a half-dozen of her own Impeller partitions just outside of Vivas' own, so she could intervene as quickly as possible in an emergency. Two looped loosely around the Instructor, ready to fling her to safety. "Proceed."

"Beginning Stage One." The energy shifted, spatial notation directing inward, and Anna could no longer perceive even its edges. If you weren't the one holding it in your impeller, it was a pure void, a perfectly black-boxed effect.

She knew what Vivas was doing, of course; she was collecting what Anna thought of as 'troughs,' but was more properly negative energy. Then Stage Two would begin, the actual Wave forming, and–

? ? !

s o m e t h i n g

bent

Vivas' Impeller winked out, the layers contacting the Wave going first. Anna's Impeller latched on, and for just a moment she could see inside the Wave. Energy churned and warped, spatial notation punching through itself, not interfering but simply vanishing, space-time screaming at the seeming impossibility–

Her foremost Impeller partitions vanished in a wave of destructive interference. The others were eroding at record speed. This wasn't a Static Wave, it was becoming something else entirely. Vivas wobbled in the air, beginning to fall, Impellers totally gone, Frame corroded and warped.

Several Instructors tried to reach with their Impellers, but they tore apart before they could clear the perimeter.

Anna yanked at Vivas, but with her Impeller fading so rapidly, the two partitions she had readied weren't enough to overcome the pull of the vortex. She retasked the rest, latching on, warping space to counter the vortex locally, and throwing.

[[ DANGER // IMPEL*ER F%LLY DEP#ETED ]]

Vivas cleared the edge of the vortex.

[[ DAN@!R // FR$#E IN%E&@ITY F@#%ING ]]

She was safe.

[[ #A#&⅋R // #O⟛∄⊘ @NT#⧉RI&Y %O⧻ ]]

It was enough.

[[ ⩠#NG@R // ⩐P!@#AL DI@&O#⨳O! IN%⦳@#A&L⧪ ]]

The world collapsed.



The universe takes as many forms as there are people to perceive it. Some describe it as unending branching paths cutting through a field of thorns, stretching ever onward. Some perceive it as an infinite tree, each leaf its own world, each branch a major divergence in history. Others yet perceive it as an ocean, countless bubbles of reality adrift in a sea of chaos. The only true constant is conflict. Each world wishes to grow and thrive, even as that-which-is-not tries to grind it to dust.

Most do not perceive it at all. Humans are, by nature, limited beings. Breaching the bounds of the world remains purely a thought experiment, the stuff of science fiction or theoretical physics. Some humans can step from world to world, but they do so directly, as if between rooms in a house. Stepping outside the house itself, into the that-which-is-not of the Sea of Quanta, is a vanishingly rare event.

A man meditating beneath a fractal tree snaps his eyes open as a breeze blows through a windless realm.

A woman soaring through a sea of clouds, half her body a phantasm, is thrown off course by sudden turbulence.

A serpent, coiled around a castle with its drawbridge raised, jerks with pain as a streak of light punches directly through it, inscribing an arc that takes it through an arrow-slit.

A leviathan shifts its weight at a sudden itch, and the ocean churns.



When Anna regained consciousness, she was falling through the sky.

She had been unconscious for… she ran a diagnostic. That couldn't be right.

Durga's chronometer returned NaN somehow, so she had resorted to astronomical analysis. According to approximate location via landmark triangulation and the positions of stars, planets, and celestial mechanics, she had awoken 675,000±750 hours before her last known-good time, somewhere in Siberia. 15,000km from Perth.

…Anna had no idea what to make of that. This wasn't a sim, so what…?

Durga fed her sensor data, and Anna jolted with surprise, then recovered, a thruster burst stopping her in midair a hundred meters from the ground.

The whole area was awash with exotic radiation, of a sort she'd never encountered before. It wasn't a point source, or fallout, but beyond that she couldn't tell. Whatever it was, Durga's sensors weren't calibrated properly for it.

No other Valkyries transmitting, no CENTCOM. No Higgs emissions– wait, no, there was… something to the east. It reminded her of the pseudo-Higgs reaction the academy simulators put out, but it was definitely not the same thing. What was…

Durga pushed her a data packet, and she frowned. Whatever the pseudo-Higgs reaction was, it shared commonalities with the exotic background radiation.

She pushed out an active scan.

Fifty kilometers away, a convoy of… that was an odd sensor return. Cheap military decoys? Durga nudged her, reminded her of the date, and she revised that. Not hollow visual decoys, but most likely old-style tanks, given composition and emissions, as well as other ground vehicles.

A number of returns even Durga couldn't confidently evaluate surrounded them. Not more than twice the size of any of the tanks, but bizarrely sensor-opaque, and awash with the exotic radiation, though a different signature from the other two.

The tanks were firing, but the number of returns was barely decreasing. Whatever they were firing was not sufficient.

They were in danger. Firing at unknown targets from beyond visual range was inadvisable.

She shifted.

Convoy of tanks and ground vehicles, as expected.

The hostiles were less expected. Standard scans might be hampered, but optical sensors still worked. Mostly white and purple, loosely biological shapes but somewhere between mechanical and sculptural in form, in a way that reminded her unsettlingly of Types despite being clearly non-Antagonist.

She cycled sensors, steering clear of ones likely to dangerously irradiate the humans below. They were of a roughly uniform physical density, but their mass changed and form moved, the exotic radiation they were giving off shifting in conjunction. Nanotech, maybe, but the way they bounced sensors shared some characteristics with Impellers too.

Heavy particle projectors could have unknown interactions with exotic energy types, risking irradiation or more harmful effects to the convoy.

XHEAPs were not ideal danger-close ordnance, and supply was too limited to use against non-priority targets.

Halberd was feasible, but impractical for large numbers.

Direct Impeller attacks were zero-range as well, and testing her Impeller against their pseudo-Impellers in a combat situation was needlessly risky.

Lasers were viable, but without knowing their material composition optimal configuration was unclear.

She expressed her hypervelocity cannons in autonomous mode and fired.

One cannon put out a stream of rounds that chewed through a creature lumbering through two large, pseudo-Impeller-attached arms. As expected, its interior was largely undifferentiated, but it didn't last long, exploding into pink, sparkling energy. Curiously, pieces separated before it suffered critical failure remained intact. Some sort of self-destruct, maybe?

The other cannon put short bursts through the flying types littering the battlefield even as she retargeted her first one, sweeping fire onto the other ground-bound enemies; they seemed to be substantially more durable than aerial models.

The other entities didn't last much longer. The most durable of the beasts, one arm ending in a large shield and the other in a lance, could actually stand up to her fire, but only with the shield, and strafing behind them was easy enough.

All targets neutralized. 96% ammunition remaining. Acceptable.

Someone from the convoy was calling up to her, in Russian.

She moved herself down with Impeller, keeping plasma thrusters firmly off.

"I apologize," she answered, activating seldom-used external speakers and letting her translator module do the heavy lifting, "can you repeat that?"

"Thank you for your rescue," she began, then threw in a word that simply did not translate. "Are you with the government?"

Anna considered the question. Yes, she was, but not this government. "I am not a local government agent," she said finally.

The woman frowned, but did not follow up. "Regardless, I would like to request safe passage, if you can spare the time. I am sure in this chaos you have much to do."

"Acceptable. Where is the nearest safe zone for you?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that," she admitted

Anna shook her head. "I can perform reconnaissance, but I lack data on the current geopolitical and strategic situation, as well as the nature of these entities." She gestured at the wreckage from the fight, noting with curiosity that the larger beasts had collapsed into tiny pink cubes that pulsed with exotic energy rather than simply evaporated.

She reached out with her Impeller to a few of them, slipping them into storage for further analysis.

"The situation is it's all fucked," the woman answered with a bitter shake of her head. Anna winced. "Devils everywhere, no orders passed down, no response to our requests. Satellite phones are under heavy interference. We were making for Novosibirsk, before…" she shook her head. "Well, no orders coming from District Headquarters now."

"In that case, I will perform reconnaissance, if you can provide me with coordinates. An accurate map will be sufficiently precise."

"Truly, thank you; we were doing badly even before that attack. What is your name, if you don't mind the question?"

"Second Lieutenant Anna Sanchez, UNAF," she answered out of instinct, then paused. "Err, sorry. Just Anna. My rank is… currently inapplicable."

The woman seemed a bit taken aback, but nodded. "Captain Cocolia Agapova, 5352nd BHVT."



Anna came out of her teleport a kilometer above and out from the military base, and saw with some relief that, unlike the prior ones she had checked, this facility was still intact and manned. There were signs of combat all around – damaged and hastily repaired fortifications, a recently-cleared no-man's-land pockmarked with explosions and rubble, and heavy weapons emplacements on the walls.

One of the emplacements noticed her, men pointing up, targeting her with the emplacement. She frowned, and talked to their radios, using the frequencies Cocolia had given her. "I am not hostile. Requesting permission to land and speak to your commanding officer."

The walls were abuzz with movement. More radio signals went out, the men talking to their commander, and… she winced. Why did soldiers have to swear so much?

"Unidentified," and they once again said the same word Cocolia had, which wasn't in her dictionary. In retrospect, she likely should have asked, "you are permitted to land in the main courtyard. You will be met there."

"Understood."

She floated down, lazily by her standards, once again keeping her plasma jets off, and landed as indicated. Soldiers gawked at her, most of them in worn uniforms, all of them looking tired and strained.

She silently extended her Impeller, letting Durga's underlayer spread out into invisible strands to give her added range. It was a more tedious option than simply using her sensors, but she didn't want to accidentally irradiate someone, or set off warning alarms.

She had just finished scanning the base – and carefully not looking at habitation rooms and bathrooms, particularly given the uses some of those were being put to – when someone walked up to her.

He was a short, stout, black-haired man with a short beard, wearing a fresh uniform with a number of medals on it. "You are the one who wished to speak to me, I assume," he said curtly.

"Correct. I am escorting a convoy of soldiers who need a place to shelter. Can this facility support another seventy-eight individuals, twelve tanks, and twenty assorted ground vehicles?"

He blinked, looking at Anna's faceplate with curiosity. "That… should be possible, yes." He frowned. "Who sent you? You are not from our government. You are not from Schicksal."

"I am currently acting on my own initiative."

He squinted at her and sighed, muttering something about cloaks under his breath. "We can take them in, yes. Who are they with?"

"5352nd BHVT," she answered. "Led by Captain Cocolia Agapova."

He actually frowned at the name. "I will have to have a conversation with her once she arrives."

Anna nodded. "That would be advisable."

She waited a moment to see if he had anything more to add, then executed a teleport to the convoy's last location. Soon they would be safe and she could afford to range further afield.



The convoy was almost to the facility when Durga's sensors lit up. Some sort of dense activity on the electromagnetic spectrum was entering the northwest edge of her range. Far more substantial than that generated by the local military, even at the base. She consulted her map, but there wasn't anything of note there.

"Cocolia," she asked, sending it to the radio in her vehicle. "I'm detecting dense signals to the north-northwest. I intend to investigate; can you make it the rest of the way on your own?"

"Certainly. Thank you for your assistance… Second Lieutenant Anna Sanchez, UNAF." There was a wry undercurrent to her voice, though Anna couldn't tell what the joke was.

"It was the right thing to do; anyone would have done so in my place."

She laughed aloud, that time, a bitter bark. "I hope you can hold on to that belief, Lieutenant, but the world has a way of making liars of us. Safe travels."

"Stay safe, Captain," Anna responded automatically, rising to a reasonably safe altitude and automatically querying STRATNET for a flight plan. It wasn't until Durga nudged her that she realized her mistake. There was no STRATNET here.

That meant she didn't need to file a flight plan.

She grinned, plasma thrusters ignited, and she left the sound barrier far behind.



She didn't get to stay at top speed for long, sadly, as the anomaly was only a few hundred kilometers out. Equally rapid deceleration pulled her to a halt within better sensor range, where she found… a ship. A flying ship, armed and engaging with a number of the "Devils" she had fought before.

She frowned and queried Durga's archives, confirming that no, they had not had Valkyrie Battleships sixty years pre-Impact. At the same time her scans were confirming that yes, it was substantially higher-tech than anything she'd seen here so far, though its power output was substantially below that of an Arcology or proper Valkyrie Battleship.

It scanned her in response; she jammed it instinctively.

<< Apologies. >> she sent to it a moment later in a simple text format. << Force of habit. >>

<< Hello! >>
it responded a moment later, in conjunction with renewed scanning. She didn't jam in response this time, but didn't stop her defensive Impeller partitions from going opaque, either. Interestingly, several of its sensor suites seemed to utilize the exotic energy. << You are not broadcasting a known IFF. Please state your designation and affiliation, if you would. >>

<< Anna Sanchez. No relevant affiliation. >>

<< How peculiar! You can call me Eins. >>
Anna blinked. "One?" Was that a callsign? << What are your intentions here? >>

<< I was investigating the readings given off by your vessel, as they are quite anomalous when compared to local military forces. What is your identity? >>

<< USPRTS Battleship
Galileo, providing military aid in the ongoing crisis. >>

That… sounded official enough. << Do you need additional field assets? Or assistance with the entities swarming your ship? >>

<< Nah, just Cherub-classes, these are small fries. What are your powers? >>


Weird way for this person to put it. Anna thought about it. << Primarily combat specialized, proficient at long-range to zero-range combat. High mobility, extensive EWAR and sensor suites. I can transport a reasonable amount of material in storage as well, and can perform construction. >>

<< One moment, let me confer with my captain! >>


Anna waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Non-Valkyries took so long to talk.

Huh. Actually, 'Eins' had responded at acceptable speeds. Maybe they were some sort of Valkyrie-equivalent?

A tightbeam laser comm from the ship. She accepted it, and… hm. She didn't have their connection protocols.

<< Connection protocols and data format specifications? >> she sent Eins. She could reverse-engineer them, but without knowing what the end results needed to be it was easier to just ask.

<< [[ DATA ]] >> She decoded the files. That was an array of file formats, fascinating.

The laser connection resumed, and she accepted it. A three-dimensional video call request. She thought for a moment how best to respond, then returned it, settling on just a holographic face-scan using impeller data.

The woman who connected to her looked to be in her late thirties, with long green hair.

"Captain Emma Planck, USPRT," she said, inclining her head. She did not look particularly military to Anna.

"Sec–" she cut herself off. "Anna Sanchez. On… autonomous assignment."

Planck raised an eyebrow. Anna felt herself blush. "A pleasure," she said after a moment. "I understand you want to coordinate?"

"Uh, yes, I don't… know where my skills would be best used."

Planck lifted a datapad into view, looking it over. "Readings of your approach have you somewhere north of Mach 15. Is that correct?"

Anna mentally converted. "At combat speeds, yes. Combat-speed teleports are limited to about two hundred kilometers. With time to charge I can go further, though without Higgs to bootstrap that only goes so far." Anna tilted her head. Why were the woman's eyes so wide?

"Ah… right. And effective combat range? You mentioned 'zero-range' to 'long-range.'"

She tilted her head. "I'm not sure. Theoretically, with adequate targeting data? One and a half, maybe two thousand kilometers at maximum." Planck's eyes widened further. "But local conditions could affect that, including the exotic radiation that's everywhere here. I'd prefer to engage in the tens to hundreds of kilometers instead."

"R… right." She shook her head. "In that case, long-range fire support on Apollyon would–" An alarm blared behind Planck, and Durga's registered an exotic radiation spike with pseudo-Higgs properties and spatial warping effects.

One of the small flying types buzzing around the Galileo imploded, then ripped itself open in a large Gate. But those sensor readings weren't… Anna teleported to improve her vantage point. It wasn't to another point in space, it was to some other space entirely. And within it she saw the writhing of thousands more of the creatures… and yet another pseudo-Higgs signature within. Thankfully, the Gate itself was small, they couldn't all fit out at once. She expressed her hypervelocity cannons, but even as they expressed themselves more gates opened, a hundred more, each smaller but allowing the horde within to spill forward with greater throughput.

<< Engaging. Upwards of one thousand standard hostiles, minimum one aberrant signature. >> She sent to Eins. Her cannons began to fire, cutting down on their numbers before they could spread out, as did the railguns on the ship.

It wasn't enough. They cut down hundreds of the creatures, but they escaped the Gate too quickly. And behind them all was one final figure, the source of the aberrant, pseudo-Higgs signature she was detecting.

Her vision narrowed to a single point.

It was perhaps three meters tall, with marble skin. Not marble-white, but looking like marble itself, a sculpture of a human being, clad in green-and-white armored plates with a sleekly organic aesthetic. Two yellow eyes glowed in its helmeted head, and a halo-circlet of green light hovered over its brow. At its back, four wing-apertures opened, shifting green energy spilling forth.

That was what it looked like to visual sensors, at least.

It bounced her deep scans much like an Impeller, but what she could determine was an unsettling hybrid between the strange not-quite-Impeller of the standard entities and the organic nanotechnology of high-level Antagonists.

And while it didn't use true Higgs, the way space and physics screamed around the wings on its back meant only one thing: Exotic Principle Weaponry.

Type-Zero.

It turned to her almost languidly. She teleported away, fifty kilometers back, and expressed her Heavy Particle Projectors. Targeted.

<< Judgment-class Honkai Beast detected, temporary designation MORYANA, transited via Void Portal to coordinates alpha-seven->> she tuned out the rest of the broad-spectrum transmission from the Galileo. The creature, Moryana, turned and snapped out a hand, bolts of pale green energy lancing out towards her. She dodged, but they arced, homing after her. Heavy Particle Projectors lanced out, easily tracking the creature as she strafed, but the pseudo-Impeller surrounding her hardened into a field of green energy, and the beams splashed off.

The energy clashed with her own Impeller, and it was more of a struggle than she expected to dissipate. Exotic properties.

The battleship fired a particle beam of its own at Moryana, met with a similar field… but, despite being significantly less energetic than her own, that beam made the shield waver.

Its Impeller was tuned, then, to certain types of energy. Or the beam was tuned against its defenses. It did utilize whatever energy those cubes emitted, judging by its waste emissions.

She cycled particle types and continued their aerial dance, to relatively little effect. Whatever those shields were even worked against her more exotic, "phasing" payloads. Not perfectly – when she pumped enough energy into an attack the shield did waver – but enough.

For the moment, its attacks on the battleship were held at bay by some form of force field, but she could see the ship's shields wavering under the assault. She turned her cannons from their work on the swarm to Moryana, but they were even less effective than the particle beam. Oddly, though, better damage-to-energy ratio.

Still, not sufficient.

The Galileo's shields cracked, and a blade of energy sliced into the deck.

She expressed her melee halberd and shifted, teleporting just shy of zero-range and maintaining velocity, a rapid slash with the plasma lance as she darted past. The plasma bit into it, though not deeply, melting part of its 'armor.'

Then the wings on its back pulsed, pseudo-Higgs radiation spiking and turning the world to neon-green. Physics around Anna bent and warped, friction and thermodynamics altering, shifting, and her Impeller strained to keep the effect from affecting her directly, combat and utility partitions working together to force it off.

She spun in the air as she found an equilibrium, the pressure of the greenish field around her not lessening exactly, but growing more manageable. Firing her hypervelocity cannons demonstrated the oddities of the field aptly. One stream of bullets accelerated rather than decelerated on contact with the altered air, while the other bled its kinetic energy into heat almost instantly, bursts of heat flash-boiling the rounds the moment they exited her Impeller.

She was testing the field with one of her inner Impeller layers when the Type-Zero did something that chilled her to the bone.

"Rejoice, mortal," it said, the greenish field communicating the sound directly to her Impeller. "For you have gained the interest of my Queen."
 
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PRT Threat Report: Azn Bad Boys (updated 01/09/2013)
Still exhausted, heat wave, et cetera. On the plus side, I have a PS5 now. On the minus side, it was this or force out an update that wasn't going to be ready.

AZN BAD BOYS; ABB

The Azn Bad Boys are a pan-Asian gang in Brockton Bay. The name itself is an artifact of history, as it is merely the name of the first gang conquered by their leader, Lung. He then embarked on a campaign of conquering other Asian gangs in the city, or pressuring them into serving under him without a fight. They lack the open fault lines one would expect of such a multi-ethnic gang; this is believed to be the result of the open Empire 88 hostility towards all Asians.​
They are organized in a fairly rigid hierarchy. At the top is Lung, below him are Munsin and Oni Lee, and below them are their own lieutenants. Each of those lieutenants has their own personal subordinates, who typically operate on a strict seniority-based hierarchy. The structural similarity to Yakuza groups is notable, though they have not been conclusively determined to be part of a specific syndicate. Other explicitly Yakuza traditions like specific terminology, sake-sharing, and finger removal have not been observed.​
Their money-making activities are primarily drug trafficking, chemical manufacturing, illegal gambling, sex work, and protection rackets. While they are often accused of human trafficking, this primarily stems from Empire 88 propaganda; members who have branched out into human trafficking are typically delivered to the police, exiled from the city, or killed.​

Leader:
Lung
Lieutenants:

Roster:
Lung


LUNG; "Kenta"

Disposition: Criminal​
Classification: Changer-Brute: 5-9+,¹ Changer-Evoker: 5-8+,¹ Changer-Mover: 3-6+,¹ Changer-Esper: 3+¹
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Male, Asian, 6' 1", short brown hair​
Costume: Gray suit, red shirt, metal mask with dragon iconography​
Lung is the leader of the Azn Bad Boys. He is direct, but not thoughtless. Despite how he is commonly painted, he is cunning and adaptive. He is a charismatic figure to his subordinates, stern but fair-minded, with a reported "inspirational intensity." He has a strong sense of personal honor – there are no verified instances of him making a promise or bargain and unilaterally breaking it. He reacts abruptly and violently to those who challenge his authority, or who break their word to him. Retaliation ranges from verbal dressing-down to murder.​
He is self-admittedly half-Chinese, half-Japanese, a fact he is very open with in service of expanding the ABB's pan-Asian membership. Analysts believe he is a former Yakuza member, though this has proven difficult to confirm. He speaks English with a noticeable Japanese accent.​
His powers grant him additional strength, durability, and minor pyrokinesis by default. When he engages in combat, the Changer element of his power activates. As combat extends or intensifies, he begins to transform. Early elements of his transformation include claws, scales, a tail, and a reptilian snout, as well as enhanced physical attributes and pyrokinesis. As it progresses, he grows larger, neck, torso, and tail lengthening. At the mid-stage of his transformation, this grants him a serpentine, quadrupedal form. He has no confirmed upper limit, with a greatest recorded length of thirty-three feet.² At this point, he proved able to fly, or at least levitate.​
¹​ Rating scale represents observed potentials as his changes escalate. No known upper limit.
²​ See ENE PROTECTORATE INCIDENT REPORT 11132003-C



ONI LEE; "Takeshi"

Disposition: Criminal​
Classification: Ego-Mover: 6 (Teleporter), Striker/Breaker-Evoker 5, Ego-Brute 2​
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Male, 5' 9", short black hair​
Costume: Black suit with white shirt, a variety of Japanese "oni" masks​
Oni Lee is Lung's right-hand man, and has been with him since Lung's first appearances. The details of their relationship are unclear, but Lung appears to trust him implicitly. Oni Lee is reportedly brusque and process-oriented. That is to say, he is focused on rules and structures, drilling these into his men, with the belief that the best approach will yield the best result. He speaks English with a light Japanese accent.​
He has two primary powers, one Mover and one Striker. His Mover ability is a fairly straightforward teleportation power. It cancels momentum and is currently believed to require an unobstructed straight-line path between him and his target point. He uses his Striker ability on his sword, surrounding it in a shimmering field that renders it capable of shearing through all recorded substances. This is believed to be a space-warping effect.³
While he has impressive reaction times, and is capable of beginning a strike the moment he exits a teleport, its momentum cancellation, combined with an apparent inability to teleport while his Striker ability is active, grants a critical window in which victims can react to his favored tactic of teleport-and-strike. He should still be considered extremely dangerous.​
³​ See ENE WARDS INCIDENT REPORT 04032010-A



MUNSIN; Real name unknown

Disposition: Criminal​
Classification: Summoner-Master/Wildcard: 6+ (Brute, Evoker, Mover, Stranger, Transmuter)​
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Description: Female, 5' 1", long black hair​
Costume: Black suit with green shirt, domino mask​
Munsin is the newest parahuman member of the ABB. She first appeared during the Boston Games, but appears to have left the city after a run-in with Damsel of Distress. She resurfaced shortly after in Brockton Bay, already a member of the ABB. She is believed to be young, in her mid-twenties, and is personal, irreverent, and casual. Her subordinates are trusted with a significant amount of autonomy, with the promise of severe punishment should they abuse that trust.​
The details of her power are unclear. It seems to involve her painting things and then summoning them into reality. It is as-yet uncertain what her maximum number of concurrent summons is, or what the restrictions on powers they possess are. She primarily summons creatures and items from paintings in her personal presence, but she is known to maintain murals and paintings in ABB strongholds, which can reportedly animate without her present. Any limitations on this capability are unclear.​
Even lacking any painting implements, she should not be considered unarmed; she can summon a smaller selection of creatures from her body directly, presumably from concealed tattoos.​
Her summons have never been observed to disobey her, but the mechanism of this is similarly unclear.​
⁴​ See BOSTON PRT INCIDENT REPORT 06092009-F
⁵​ See BOSTON PRT INCIDENT REPORT 06122009-C
⁶​ See PRT PARAHUMAN ANALYSIS 08032009-MUNSIN-87CE416F823E4341



COLLOID; Real name unknown

Disposition: Mercenary​
Classification: Tinker-Wildcard: 5 (Chemicals)​
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Male, 5' 4", Asian, thinning gray hair​
Costume: Black suit with a lab coat on top, tinted protective goggles​
Colloid is a chemical-focused Tinker of unclear origin. He is reclusive, preferring to work rather than make appearances, and has no apparent interest in combat. He is reportedly eccentric, crotchety, and "grandfatherly." Age and national origin are unclear, though he speaks English with a Hong Kong accent.​
His creations are wide-ranging, including drugs (primarily designer or combat drugs), industrial and medical chemicals, and most notably a "healing serum" which repairs a wide variety of injuries, though the Honkai residue left behind can be dangerous to low-resistance individuals.
PRT testing of this "healing serum," with consultation from the Guild and Panacea, have determined that it is safe for use with approval from a PRT Director. Small quantities have been obtained by the PRT; ask a Director for additional information.​
⁷​ See PRT CENTRAL MEDICAL ANALYSIS 11182010-D
⁸​ See PRT CENTRAL MEDICAL ANALYSIS 11182010-D
⁹​ See PRT DIRECTORATE MEMO 11202010-F
 
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PRT Affiliate Report: New Wave (Updated 7/12/2012)
A/N: The battle with executive dysfunction continues. Using this to test out an alternate power classification system SpiralHelix is working on.



NEW WAVE; BROCKTON BAY BRIGADE

PRT AFFILIATE

STANDING: GOOD
CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL

New Wave is a PRT-affiliated Parahuman team with a lengthy history in Brockton Bay, New Hampshire. They work closely with the PRT and Protectorate when required or requested, and can be considered to be reliable assets.

They began as the Brockton Bay Brigade,¹ making their first public appearance in 1994. In 1999, after a high-profile villain capture,² the Brockton Bay Brigade publicly unmasked themselves and rebranded as New Wave, wishing to start a movement towards what they referred to as "publicly accountable superheroes."³

In 2002, Fleur (Jessica Robles), then-fiancée of Lightstar (Michael Dallon), was shot and killed. Afterward, Lightstar quit the team. The event badly damaged public perception of New Wave's ideological agenda, driving the number of copycats down significantly.

¹​ See BROCKTON BAY BRIGADE (DEFUNCT)
²​ See PRT THREAT REPORT: MARQUIS, PRT THREAT REPORT: THE MARCHE, ENE PRT INCIDENT REPORT 06081999-D
³​ See EXTERNAL MEDIA LOG - 5C2D467CAEFD8A14-NEWWAVE-1
⁴​ See ENE PRT INVESTIGATION 20030414-A

Leader:
Lieutenants:

Roster:


LADY PHOTON; SARAH PELHAM

Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Ego - Mover: 4 (Flight), Blaster - Evoker: 6, Shaker - Brute: 4 (Force Fields)
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, female, 5' 10", blonde​
Costume: White bodysuit with indigo starburst, tiara​
Lady Photon is the official leader of New Wave. While the adults of the group make decisions by committee, in practice her opinion is given a fair amount of deference. She is charismatic, photogenic, and sociable.​
She is married to Manpower, and the mother of Laserdream and Shielder. Brandish is her younger sister, and Panacea and Glory Girl are her nieces.​
Her powers include flight, beam attacks, and force field creation. Her top speed is around 50mph, which she reaches after approximately 5.2s. Her beam attacks typically manifest as 'sprays' of energy, but she is capable of firing single bolts as well. She is relatively accurate out to 300ft with single bolts, or 60ft with sprays. Her force fields can be formed as relatively simple geometric shapes, and are 'rooted' relative to the physical reference point she uses when creating them.​
⁵​ See PRT POWER TESTING REPORT B8753AE0136584B2-LADYPHOTON-2012.​


BRANDISH; CAROL DALLON

Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Striker - Evoker: 5, Breaker - Brute/Mover: 4 (Ball Form)
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, female, 5' 9", blonde​
Costume: White bodysuit with orange trim, 'crossed-blade' symbol​
Brandish is the younger sister of Lady Photon, and a practicing civil attorney at Palmer & Stark LLP. She is dedicated, strong-willed, and firm in her convictions.​
She is married to Flashbang, and the mother of Glory Girl and Panacea. Lady Photon is her older sister, Laserdream is her niece, and Shielder is her nephew.​
She has two primary abilities: the ability to manifest weapons, and the ability to transform into an orb-like Breaker state. Her weapons are formed of force fields similar to Lady Photon's, but are substantially denser, typically appearing as if formed of golden light. She can impart different traits onto the weapons with precision, ranging from a 'shearing' effect that cuts through most non-exotic matter to a 'diffuse' force as if the weapon were surrounded with foam. She can apply more exotic traits, though only electrical and heat-based ones have been observed.​
Her secondary ability is a Breaker transformation into a 1.5' diameter sphere of yellow-orange light. This sphere is impermeable to all tested forces, and while transformed Brandish and anything she is holding (limited to 113 lbs of mass, no more than 1' away from her) are in a form of temporal stasis. While she can detect force imparted on the ball, and her thoughts are not paused, she cannot perceive the exterior visually or aurally. She can manipulate and redirect kinetic energy imparted on the ball, however, and uses this in combination with Manpower / Mark Pelham's enhanced strength with frequency.​
⁶​ See PRT POWER TESTING REPORT 134AB36728C7C31E-BRANDISH-2012
⁷​ Note: she has represented several clients in legal disputes with the PRT. This does not affect our working relationship with her or New Wave in other contexts.


MANPOWER; NEIL PELHAM

Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Striker - Brute/Evoker: 5 (Electromagnetics), Shaker - Evoker: 2 (Electromagnetics)
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Description: Caucasian, male, 7' 0", brown-blond hair​
Costume: White bodysuit with yellow lightning-bolt patterns​
Manpower is the husband of Lady Photon. He is brash and overconfident, though he is aware that this is a flaw of his and works to mitigate it.​
He is married to Lady Photon, and the father of Laserdream and Shielder. Glory Girl and Panacea are his nieces.​
His power is a form of electromagnetic control within 2.1" of his skin. He primarily utilizes this in a form of strength-enhancing force field, but can generate and manipulate electrical effects within range as well.​
⁸​ See PRT POWER TESTING REPORT B5257FBEA3A494A9-MANPOWER-2012


FLASHBANG; MARK DALLON

Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Blaster/Shaker - Evoker: 6, Ego - Brute: 1 (Self-Immunity)
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, male, 6' 1", brown hair​
Costume: White bodysuit with green trim, stylized 'explosion' symbol​
Flashbang is the husband of Brandish. He suffers from severe clinical depression, and is often functionally inactive. When his depression is managed, he is friendly, sociable, and conflict-averse.​
His powers allow him to generate 2.4" diameter spheres of light, which bounce and can be set to explode. Force ranges from nonlethal stun to significant, both force and detonation criteria are set at the time of generation. He can generate them in significant quantities, and reabsorb them when needed. He is selectively immune to the damage from his own explosives, in physics-incompatible ways - he can use his explosives to accelerate himself without actually being affected by the explosive force, for instance.​
⁹​ See PRT POWER TESTING REPORT 63A7E508BCD44C1B-FLASHBANG-2012


LASERDREAM; CRYSTAL PELHAM

Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Blaster - Evoker: 6,¹⁰ Ego - Mover: 6 (Flight),¹⁰ Shaker - Brute: 3 (Force Fields)¹⁰
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, female, 5' 9", blonde​
Costume: White bodysuit with stylized red 'arrow' motif, red hairband​
Laserdream is the daughter of Lady Photon and Manpower. She attends the University of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, in Brockton Bay. She is perceptive and quick-witted, serving her well in combat.​
Her powers are quite similar to her mother's, being flight, beams, and force fields. Her flight is significantly faster, with a top speed of approximately 250mph, reached in 6.3s. She becomes dizzy when making high-speed aerial maneuvers, and has a relatively wide turning radius when compared to her family, even adjusted for her speed.​
Her beams include both the kinetic beams of her mother and visible-spectrum lasers, though she primarily uses the former in combat. She is extremely precise, with single kinetic shots remaining highly accurate out to 600ft, and they remain quite powerful even at that range.​
Her force fields are significantly weaker than those of her family and easily broken by simple kinetic impacts, but they are functionally impenetrable to lasers and charged particle beams, and will stop her own attacks no matter the force.​
¹⁰​ See PRT POWER TESTING REPORT 20864C4B0ADD8AA7-LASERDREAM-2012


PANACEA; AMELIA DALLON

Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Striker - Transmuter: 8 (Healer)¹¹
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, female, 5' 4", brunette​
Costume: Hooded white robe with stylized red cross iconography, red scarf with white cross iconography​
Panacea is the adopted daughter of Brandish and Flashbang. Adopted at the age of two, New Wave declined to state any details about her birth parents. She is sarcastic, acerbic, and bitter. Most of her time is spent at Brockton Bay hospitals, where she is renowned for a terrible bedside manner. She attends Arcadia High School.​
She is capable of healing nearly any injury that does not affect the brain. Unlike many forms of healing, this takes the form of a biological 'scan' followed by active biological manipulation to repair injuries and make adjustments. The scope of this ability is limited to things she conceptualizes as 'healing,' and requires that she understand the injury. She refuses to heal brains as a result; while she is theoretically capable of regenerating gray matter, she lacks the ability to do so in a manner that is non-destructive to other functionality.​
NOTE: Panacea is a highly valuable PRT non-combatant asset, and the nature of her powers provide access to significant quantities of sensitive information.¹² If she is believed to be at significant risk, consider necessary action in light of WARDEN § 03(d)(2).​
NOTE: This document has been redacted for security reasons. If further information is required, request an un-redacted report from a PRT Director.​
¹¹​ See PRT POWER TESTING REPORT B5257FBEA3A494A9-PANACEA-2012
¹² See PRT DIRECTORATE MEMO 04212009-B


GLORY GIRL; VICTORIA DALLON

Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Ego - Brute: 7,¹³ Ego - Mover: 6 (Flight),¹³ Shaker - Enchanter: 2 (Emotion Aura)¹³
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, female, 5' 8", blonde​
Costume: White one-piece long-sleeved short dress + shorts, cape, knee-high boots, tiara​
Glory Girl is the daughter of Brandish and Flashbang. She is confident, bold, and enthusiastic, with a tendency to leap headlong into situations without considering consequences. She attends Arcadia High School.​
Her primary powers are flight, enhanced strength, and enhanced durability (an "Alexandria package"), with a secondary Shaker Enchanter aura that imposes sensations of awe, majesty, intimidation, and similar on those within its range.​
Her flight is the second-fastest in New Wave, peaking at 80mph, but her maneuverability and acceleration are extremely significant. She can reach top speed in 0.8s, perform hairpin turns at top speed, and move around freely while maintaining speed and direction.​
Her durability and strength are linked to a form of skintight forcefield / tactile telekinesis; in instances where her force field has been breached, both drop significantly, though not to baseline human levels. She is extremely strong and capable of deflecting nearly any attack, but is not invincible, despite an established tendency to treat herself as such.​
¹³​ See PRT POWER TESTING REPORT 25BF6DF1773F0C3B-GLORYGIRL-2012


SHIELDER; ERIC PELHAM

Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Blaster - Evoker: 3,¹⁴ Ego - Mover: 2 (Flight),¹⁴ Shaker - Brute: 6 (Force Fields)¹⁴
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, male, 5' 8", blue hair​
Costume: White bodysuit with blue 'shield' motif​
Shielder is the son of Lady Photon and Manpower. He is quiet, reserved, and uncertain of himself. He attends Milbury High School.​
He possesses the flight, beams, and force fields of his sister, mother, and cousin, but in a considerably different configuration. His flight is quite slow in comparison, reaching only 20mph, and his beams, while accurate, are relatively weak. His primary ability is his ability to create, maintain, and manipulate his forcefields. His fields are extremely strong, and he has the ability to generate complex shapes with them, or alter their shape after creation. While this is mentally taxing to him, it has become less so over time, suggesting that this is a skill that will continue to improve over time.​
¹⁴​ See PRT POWER TESTING REPORT 9C1A3BC266C239DF-SHIELDER-2012
 
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PRT Non-Affiliated Heroes Report, Brockton Bay, NH (last updated 11/21/2012)
VISAGE; Real name unknown
Disposition: Hero (Independent)​
Classification: Ego/Breaker-Wildcard: 6 (Loadout),¹ suspected Trump² or​
Enchanter component²
Known Configurations: Various, typically involving Ego/Breaker-Brute ratings of 4+ and minimum one other secondary ability.​
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Variable. Figure composed of opaque, mono-colored, tangible energy currently classified as "forcefield." Observed at 5' 11" to 7' 6" tall, and most visible spectrum colors, all appearing as some sort of armored humanoid.​
Visage is an independent hero who has been operating in Brockton Bay since 1997.³ Their identity is unclear, as are the specifics of their power. They are willing to work with the PRT on a case-by-case basis, but have refused all offers or requests for membership or affiliate status, declaring that they were not interested. Their interactions with independent parahumans and Wards are relatively warm and friendly, while their interactions with Protectorate capes are cool, courteous, and professional. Notably, their opinion of the Brockton Bay PD appears to be rather negative; they display a consistent distrust of their judgment, a low regard for their abilities, and a suspicion that they are suborned at a high level by the Empire 88.​
Their primary focus in Brockton Bay has historically been the Empire 88, though they were active in battling the Teeth as well. Actions against the Marche, ABB, and Forgotten are on record, but appear to primarily be attacks of opportunity, or directly linked to their then-membership in the Watch.​
After the Watch began descending into protection rackets in the wake of the departure of the Teeth and capture of the Marquis, Visage was one of the several capes that promptly distanced themselves from their former comrades, denouncing them publicly and angrily.​
Their power is currently believed to be an Ego/Breaker-type ability transforming their body into a force-field construct, though consensus has varied. Their power appears to be a Loadout-type Wildcard ability, allowing them to alter their physical form and abilities before deployment. Abilities have varied widely; see specific document for details. Nearly all configurations include a Brute rating of 4-6 (in some cases ranging as high as 7 in a single aspect, with tradeoffs in others), as well as a smaller Mover rating linked to those physical abilities, and most include at least one 'utility' ability.​
It is believed that their ability also incorporates a low-level Trump or Enchanter capability, allowing them to scramble certain forms of direct analysis and possibly powers.
¹​ See PRT PARAHUMAN ANALYSIS 05122011-VISAGE-C8F43FA7A0528535
²​ See ENE WARDS INTERACTION REPORT 03172011-D
³​ See ENE PRT INCIDENT REPORT 04011997-C
⁴​ Other analysts have concluded that they are a Summoner-Master with a projection, or an Ego/Breaker with the 'body' being a shell around their base form. Further fundamental power analysis is not authorized at this time, barring a substantial change in capability.
⁵​ See PRT PARAHUMAN ANALYSIS 05122011-VISAGE-C8F43FA7A0528535
⁶​ See ENE WARDS INTERACTION REPORT 03172011-D

MOUSE PROTECTOR; Suzanne Laghmani
Disposition: Hero (Independent)​
Classification: Ego-Brute: 3, Ego-Mover: 4 (Agility), Ego-Mover: 5 (Teleporter), Striker-Evoker: 3, Ego/Shaker-Esper: 3, Gazer-Stranger/Enchanter: 3​
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Middle Eastern, female, 5' 7", black hair​
Costume: Black bodysuit with rust-red and chestnut-brown armor plating, visored helmet with large 'mouse ears'​
Mouse Protector was one of the first members of the Wards program, and a member of the Protectorate in good standing before her resignation in 1998. Since her departure, she has remained willing to work with the Protectorate, but opted out of Affiliate status in 2007, citing a lack of desire for the required regulations. See her dedicated report for further details. She is friendly, talkative, and light-hearted, frequently making light of even serious situations.​
She remains an independent hero in good standing, and is familiar with the privileges that grants; she will be a common sight in medium-security PRT gyms, for instance. She retains a Confidential security clearance, but PRT members should keep in mind the narrowed need-to-know requirements regarding non-members.​
Her current location is Brockton Bay, New Hampshire, where she has been established since 2010. However, her teleportation capabilities allow her to cross long distances extremely quickly, and reports of her in other locations should be filed normally rather than under Stranger protocols.​
Mouse Protector is a classic example of a 'grab bag' cape, with a wide variety of distinct powers. She possesses enhanced strength and substantially enhanced reflexes and speed, the ability to teleport to 'marked' items, a minor Striker ability granting edged weapons she holds additional cutting power, an Esper ability that, when activated, grants her an intuitive understanding of where others in the area can perceive, and a Strange/Enchanter ability allowing her to enhance the attention a target gives to a given object, action, or person. See her dedicated report for further details.
⁷​ See PRT PARAHUMAN ANALYSIS 04012012-MOUSEPROTECTOR-495895137E6C5EFE and related documents.
⁸​ Ibid.

BLACKOUT; Real name unknown
Disposition: Hero (independent)​
Classification: Gazer/Shaker-Transmuter: 4, Ego-Brute: 0-5​
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, female, 5' 2", red hair​
Costume: Lavender bodysuit and mask with white and gold accenting, with a venus-and-fist symbol on the chest. Often wears conventional clothing overtop it.​
Blackout is an independent hero who has been operating in Brockton Bay since November 1996, a year to the day after Lustrum's conviction. She is an outspoken advocate for women's rights and racial justice, and openly disdains the PRT. She is extremely hostile to both the Empire 88 and the ABB, but does not engage in overt offensive action against either. She is a former member of the Watch, and like several other capes distanced herself from the organization after they began to undertake criminal activities of their own. She is curt and short with Protectorate capes and Wards, with little patience or interest in assisting them.​
Her activities are primarily focused in the Maplewood district, where she acts against gang activity in regular patrol patterns, and, in the remainder of her time, aids in organizing and promoting charity events.​
She has the ability to drain energy, particularly electrical and thermal, from an area, in so doing powering her secondary ability, an extremely potent defensive-only Brute rating. Her strength is not enhanced; instead she utilizes high-quality, but conventional, 'stun sticks' to make up the difference.​
⁹​ See ENE PRT INCIDENT REPORT 11031996-B

GREMLIN; Real name unknown
Disposition: Hero​
Classification: Summoner-Master: 5 (Esper/Transmuter/Evoker)​
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Description: Black, male, 5' 8", black hair​
Costume: Black springsuit-type bodysuit under conventional clothing, typically consisting of a short-sleeved button-down shirt and cargo pants.​
Gremlin is an independent hero who has been operating in Brockton Bay since 2011. He declined both Wards and Protectorate membership, stating that he was not interested in working for "the man." He is affable and talkative, with noted interest in science and technology.​
Gremlin has the ability to summon creatures he calls "gremlins," taking the form of brownish-green distorted humanoid figures, ranging from one inch to one foot tall. These gremlins are intangible by default, only becoming tangible when needed to perform their activities. These gremlins can sense and home in on technology, and once they reach it can either sabotage, explore, or enhance it.​
Sabotage involves them phasing their limbs into something and destroying its functional elements, rendering it nonfunctional in extremely difficult-to-fix ways.​
Exploring typically only occurs with digital storage devices, where a gremlin 'leaps in' to the device, returning some time later to report on the information contained within. These gremlins can bypass standard passwords; it is unclear whether they can bypass encryption.​
Enhancement takes place in a variety of devices, where the gremlins enter a device, modifying it to 'take the place' or 'improve' pre-existing components to perform their task 'better.' The exact mechanism varies, ranging from the gremlin 'guiding' bullets to their mark to the gremlin 'replacing' the engine of a motorcycle for enhanced speed. Any devices 'enhanced' in this way lose both the enhanced functionality and whatever functionality the original components provided upon the gremlin's departure.​

ARROWHAWK; HORSEGUY; Real name unknown
Disposition: Hero (Independent)​
Classification: Summoner-Master/Mover: 3​
Last Known Location: Brockton Bay, New Hampshire​
Appearance: Caucasian, indeterminate gender, 5' 7", brown hair​
Costume: Modified motorcycle leathers with yellow and purple accents, motorcycle helmet, white 'arrow' iconography.​
Arrowhawk is an independent hero who has been operating in Brockton Bay since 2012. They have cut all conversations and attempts at contact by adult heroes short with their departure; this has been taken to mean that they are uninterested in membership at this time. They do not speak often, but the Wards have managed to engage them in conversation, stating that they seem "shy, but nice."​
Arrowhawk's power is believed to be summoning an invisible, winged pegasus that they ride. It seems to be more agile than a genuine horse would be, and somewhat stronger, but typically does not engage in combat on its own. Arrowhawk, while riding it, uses a bow and arrow, firing both conventional and 'trick' arrows at foes. They are a good shot, but not sufficiently skilled that a power is believed to be responsible.​
 
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1.11: Past and Present
To Kiana, teleporting felt, simultaneously, utterly alien and perfectly familiar.

It felt like a soft embrace, a loving warmth that wrapped around her and would always be by her side.

It felt like a blanket wrapped too tight, a clinging, grasping darkness that wished to keep her eternally bound.

It felt like a loving pet, waiting at her heels for an instruction.

It felt like an alien presence, a figure draping itself over her shoulders, waiting only for a moment's weakness in which to strike.

And then the teleport was over. Kiana stumbled, the sudden absence as disorienting as its presence had been. "What the…"

Mouse Protector caught her before she could fall, or even finish stumbling. "You alright?"

Kiana shook her head to clear it. "I uh. Yeah, just… wow, that was weird." She moved an arm and hissed in slight discomfort. She scowled down at her arm, the cut from Ravager still open, bleeding over her arm. "...stings like a bitch though."

Mouse Protector jerked as she saw the wound. "Sit down, I'll clean it off. That needs to get taken care of properly, and fast."

"...huh?" Kiana took the offered seat – a bar stool – and shrugged. "I mean, it's just a cut. I've had worse."

"Just hold still." Mouse Protector sighed and disappeared behind a shoji screen, the sounds of rustling following her.

Kiana rolled her eyes, taking the opportunity to look around. Mouse Protector's base ("mouse-hole," she thought with a snicker), was bigger than she expected and clearly not just a house or apartment. Large, rectangular, with a modestly high ceiling sporting light fixtures that struggled to illuminate the edges and corners. She'd taken a seat on a bar stool, at what was apparently an actual bar, complete with a whole lot of liquor.

The remainder of the space was partitioned by light, portable shoji screens. Near the bar were a few tables with miscellany on them – whatever other tables had once been here were nowhere to be seen – and over one set of screens were what looked like full-size arcade cabinets, of all things. The entrance to the structure itself was visible, but it had been boarded up, neatly and thoroughly.

"What was this place?" Kiana asked as Mouse Protector returned, carrying a first aid kit in her hand.

"Old barcade," she said absently, "buried when the building came down. No one wanted to pay to dig it out." She plopped herself down on the bar, tugging her gloves off, and set about cleaning Kiana's injury.

She was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I hate con-crit," Mouse Protector muttered, to Kiana's bafflement. "Your takedown was clean, well executed, nicely improvised," she said, shaking her head as she wiped the gash clean, then began to disinfect it. Thoroughly. Kiana gritted her teeth at the sting. "But it was also extremely reckless and dangerous. Capes that use weapons come in two broad types – those who use them to compensate for their powers' failings, and those whose powers synchronize with them."

Kiana rolled her eyes. "I know that, yeah."

"And," she said, pausing for the interruption but not deigning to respond to it, "the latter half of capes often end the fight if they tag you. Ravager's not quite there, but she can be pretty close."

"Eh, I'm tough." She shrugged.

Mouse Protector sighed. "Please stay still until I'm done, okay?" She rubbed at Kiana's arm with an alcohol wipe, carefully. "Ravager's powers mean that when she cuts you, that cut will keep getting worse. If it's untreated, it can go from a shallow gash to necrosis. You seem to be lucky in that she barely nicked you, but…"

Kiana frowned. It hadn't been 'just a nick,' but it wasn't serious either. She closed her eyes, focusing on her senses, and nodded. "Ah, yeah, I can feel it."

Mouse Protector finally put a pair of band-aids on the wound and nodded. "Should be all cleaned out now - it's not quite a venom, so quick washing and disinfection helps a lot."

Kiana tilted her head, looking at it. The woman had done a fairly decent job. Good hand with a first aid kit. She moved the arm experimentally. "I can actually still feel it now that you washed it out." It was like a wine stain on the edge of a red shirt – if she didn't know to look for it she might have missed it, but knowing it was there made it unmistakable.

"Hm." Mouse Protector shut the first aid kit, tossing the used materials in a clean arc to a nearby trash can. "Yeah, she'll be able to sense you if she's nearby until it fades. Are you a sensor type?"

"I guess so?" Kiana shrugged. Most people didn't have her senses, but she didn't know how strange they were, on a wide scale. "What's the deal with you two, anyway?"

Mouse Protector sighed again, and her face – what Kiana could see of it, at least – turned pensive. "We've been at each other's throats for ages, really. Every so often she'll give being on the side of the angels a shot, but it never lasts. I could never let her go unchecked, and she won't leave me alone either, so…" she shrugged.

Kiana frowned slightly. That was a very careful answer. There was something more there.

"We're just… like that now, I guess," she said after a long moment, shaking her head regretfully. "Probably always will be."



Brockton Municipal Airport was far from its busiest at noon-ish on a Wednesday, but it still wasn't exactly empty. While it might have been lesser in importance than it once was, medical tourism – between Medhall's state-of-the-art research labs and Panacea herself – had saved the Bay's airport from complete irrelevance.

Bronya stepped up to a small stall at the edge of the airport's food court. The owner, an elderly man with white hair and a heavily-lined face, looked at her with something only a hair off of a scowl. "What do you want?" he asked in thickly-accented English.

"пирожки́," she said, gesturing at the case of pirozhki. The man brightened up instantly at the Russian. "Two of them, please," she said, inclining her head. She held out a few bills.

He bustled around, chatting with her in Russian, and she leaned against the counter, chatting back absently. The conversation was simple enough – he was just happy to have someone to talk to, and the content was largely meaningless next to that need. Her true attention, however, was elsewhere.

She cast her gaze over the airport, slowly and casually, evaluating once with her own senses, and a second time with her power. Information flooded through her, distilled into a usable form after a moment by massively-parallelized processing, and she found herself unsurprised.

The security was perfunctory, standard. A security agent loitering in an unobtrusive location. Security cameras, with moderate but far from complete coverage. Footage backed up into a read-only database, and further copied into an air-gapped one. Sufficient to make doctoring footage tedious for most parahumans, insufficient to stop someone from slipping through largely undetected. Speaking of…

A woman in a suit walked by, in easy arm's reach, staring down at her phone. She'd been talking to a FarSight Air agent earlier, and her checked bag had… she checked her database. A New York tag. Perfect. Bronya shifted slightly and reached out as the woman occluded her from the cameras, slipping a silver coin into her purse, a reasonable facsimile of a genuine silver dollar. It wouldn't hold up to a counterfeiting check, but it didn't have to.

The woman kept walking. Bronya waited another minute, then said her goodbyes to the man behind the counter. She needed to catch her plane, she said. He handed her the pirozhki she had paid for, in a light paper bag. She glanced down at it. He'd given her three. She shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. He was a soft one at heart, it seemed.

She checked her boarding pass. Gate 7B. That would take her past… she considered it. Two more would be sufficient.

A slight detour took her by a water fountain near another terminal. She bent down to drink, and backed up when she finished, 'accidentally' backing directly into a larger man entering the waiting area. A few apologies exchanged later, they parted, another coin in his bag with him none the wiser.

Bronya slipped one last coin into an unattended bag, then sat herself down at her own terminal. She had some time before boarding began. Perhaps she'd have the time to take a serious crack at this Empire 88 issue.



"Sorry, don't have a lot in the way of snacks," Mouse Protector said, setting a bowl of chips and accompanying salsa on the table. "Haven't had a guest here in a while. Really should get some more cheese…"

"S'fine," Kiana mumbled through a mouthful of chips. "Why though?" she asked after washing it down with some water the cape had thoughtfully provided.

"Why no one in the den, you mean?"

Kiana nodded. Mouse Protector's lair, now that she'd seen more of it, was awesome! The arcade cabinets still worked, she had power and water, it was nicely sectioned off into different areas, gear maintenance here, a sleeping cot there… it was less practical than their own basement, sure, but that had been Bronya's work, and Tinker construction was cheating anyway.

"Like I said before, I'm a strong independent Mouse now!" She grinned. "Well, I say that, but it's not that I'm against company. Just haven't had any teammates since I came to the Bay. Your local heroes here aren't the most… eager to nest up." She paused. "Well, that might be a bit unfair. The locals who haven't already shacked up with the big P-R-T," she said it with a gap between letters, like someone spelling out a word they didn't want a child to hear, "are that way. They kinda gobbled up the heroes who were even the slightest bit interested. Even ones who weren't, like that Shadow Stalker girl." She pursed her lips. "Bet you that girl got the hard sell."

Kiana tilted her head, digesting that. "So basically, the locals who are willing to join a team are mostly already PRT members or affiliates?" Part of Kiana was excited there, saw opportunity, a chance for a mentor. The practical part of her instead wondered why, exactly, the woman had left the PRT. Did she resign, or was she forced out? Did she really quit, or was this some sort of deep-cover sting?

"Basically. So! I mentioned I had questions for ya."

Kiana tensed up inside, though she made an effort to answer casually. "Right, yeah, you did."

"First! I want you to know that you don't need to answer anything you don't want to, alright?" Mouse Protector leaned forward, grasping one of Kiana's hands earnestly. "Just say you'd prefer not to say and I'll move on, 'kay? You won't get in trouble or anything, and I'm not gonna spill your secrets."

Kiana frowned. "Really. I can just say no." She'd heard that one before. "Why do I feel like there's a catch?"

"So paranoid!" Mouse Protector sat back up straight. "...honestly, not a bad thing. Some people are real donkers about stuff." …'donkers'? What was a donker? "Long as you're careful with it. Mice can sense danger, you know!" Kiana blinked. Could they? That seemed odd. "Anyway, it's actually practical as well as ethical!"

She held up a hand, fingers curled into a loose fist. "One!" She extended a finger. "Hostile interviews suck! They're unfun and I avoid them whenever possible."

"Two!" She extended a second finger. "I'm one of the nice ones, I don't like putting people in hard situations unless they deserve it."

"Three!" She extended a third finger. "If you're focused on lying or not then I need to focus on trying to figure out what's genuine and not, and that's just a lot of work."

"Four!" She extended a fourth finger. "You're more likely to be open about it if you don't need to worry about keeping a deceptive story straight. Engenders trust!"

She grinned. "And five!" She extended her thumb. "If you're paranoid enough to think that there's a catch, that means I can give this explanation, and showing you that it's practical for me to be a nice person is going to help convince you that I'm a good Mouse!" She paused. "I think there was a six but I forgot it anyway does that make sense?"

Kiana thought about it. She didn't like being caught in what felt like a word trap, but she couldn't find anything wrong with it either. The logic tracked. It lined up cleanly with what everyone seemed to agree she was like. It even revealed a layer beneath that, which… well, was also a sneaky way to get people to trust you more. But there wasn't anything wrong with that. Kiana'd done the same more than once with no ill intentions. "Hm, sure. Hit me."

Mouse Protector tilted her head. "That would be very rude! I'd never hit a guest!" Kiana opened her mouth to explain, and Mouse Protector shook her head. "I know how you meant it, don't worry. Anyway, I don't recall anyone matching your description in the city's cape roster, and I try to keep on top of it!" She tilted her head. "Well, no, that's not right, there are a few Empire capes you could probably be buuut… Well, you talked to me. Those types wouldn't give a brown lady the time of day. So unless you're that Changer in Faultline's crew, or Masque in disguise…" Mouse Protector shrugged. "Well, that level of paranoia would get me dubbed Mad Mousey in a heartbeat! So! New to your powers?"

Kiana shook her head. "No, I've had powers for a while."

She nodded. "Okay, that works! Can I ask what they are?"

Kiana hesitated, covering it with a sip of water, then shrugged. It wasn't like knowing what she could do revealed some critical weakness. "Mostly just an all-around Brute, pretty strong and fast and tough with a side dish of fast healing. Aside from that, I can sense Honkai energy doing its thing."

"Hm." Something seemed to shift in Mouse Protector at that, a slight change in her bearing Kiana couldn't quite pin down. "Sensor types are fairly rare. What sort of things can you sense?"

Kiana thought about it. "Well, used to be mostly just really flashy powers, or like, big shifts in the ambient energy. A Honkai Beast manifesting, an energy spike strong enough to zombify normal people, that sort of deal."

"Used to be?"

"Yeah, it's been… better, recently. I can sense most power usage if I'm close enough, like…" She cast around for an explanation that wouldn't impinge on any secrets. "Glory Girl's flying power, I can sense that like a thin layer over her, or Panacea's healing scan thingy going through me." She frowned. "Or that weird gross thing near the mall earlier."

Mouse Protector leaned in, clearly intrigued. "Was there a cause for that change? Sounds a bit more significant than just learning to use it better."

Kiana sighed. "...I was in Nagazora."

"Oh." Mouse Protector fell silent.

The silence lengthened.

"Okay, moving on!" Mouse Protector announced. "What do you do to burn energy, if you're a Brute- and Sensor-type? Usually Brutes get kinda forced into well, construction work or open cape work. New in town and planning to debut soon?"

Kiana shook her head. "My resistance is really high, so I don't need to use that much, but I spar with a couple friendly parahumans, and we tire ourselves out that way." She wasn't about to out Bronya and Mei. Even though Mouse Protector seemed like one of the good ones. If a bit silly.

Mouse Protector fidgeted with something, then sighed, voice getting more serious as she spoke. "Kiana Kaslana, right?"

"That's me!" Kiana answered brightly, but tension coiled in her muscles, ready to move. She lifted the cup of water to her lips, casually but ready to throw it as a distraction. Mouse Protector had gotten serious, like she didn't want to bring something up. That meant something bad, usually. A betrayal, or bad news. Probably betrayal. Was this a Schicksal thing? Was she a plant? Did she just get herself honey trapp-

Mouse Protector interrupted her thoughts with five words.

Five simple words.

"Any relation to Siegfried Kaslana?"

Kiana didn't realize she'd dropped her cup until it shattered on the tile floor.



Bronya sat in her seat, staring out the window of the plane at the ground deep below.

To the other passengers, she was no different from any number of others looking at the patchwork of human civilization spread out beneath them.

But Bronya had more pressing things on her mind than the miscellaneous happenstance of human settlement. Her primary task had been… well, not trivial, precisely, but straightforward and required little active attention. Tapping into each of the transceivers she had slipped into other fliers' goods, she had the same real-time connection that she did back home, albeit a lower-bandwidth one.

Fitting the secure q-band hookup and a wireless connection into something that small had been a struggle and a half; SIGINT may have been in her wheelhouse, but SIGINT in miniature was not exactly her ideal working environment. She preferred larger, more durable constructions. Less finicky, less vulnerable to non-ideal conditions, easier to make low-maintenance, requiring much less precision engineering or exotic parts. Clean, efficient elegance to gimmicky miniaturization. But it had needed to be done, and it was the easiest way to have a subtle, short-term transceiver she could sneak onto someone without risk of suspicion.

One of her threads sent her a ping, and she checked it. Ah, good. Three out of three network keys cracked. Time to see what damage she could do. She synced up the threads, idly noting that all three had the same network structure. Not, strictly-speaking, a bad thing, but convenient for this circumstance.

The bad thing was, she found, that once you were into the 'secured' part of the network, you had permission for just about any operation the plane could perform. What moron had designed this? She slipped in, mapping functions, writing out a full network map and beginning a report. A few tiny changes, text files in directories, served as non-damaging proof-of-concept. She was fairly certain she could crash the planes with this access, though she steered far clear of altering settings on anything critical.

She grimaced and leaned back in her seat. She had planned to spend the rest of the flight going over the Empire's finances in reverse, seeing what resources they had access to and working out how much funding they would require from that, in the hope that it showed her something starting from the income end did not. But documenting this nightmare of security would take more time than expected.

On the plus side, this would definitely fall under the "found major vulnerabilities during penetration testing" clause of their agreement, so FarSight Air would be providing a rather larger payout than she had anticipated.

This trip was proving quite profitable already.



Kiana jolted out of her shock with the sound of the glass breaking, but she simply stared, open-mouthed. She'd spent years and years looking for even a ghost of a hint, and one just walked up and slapped her in the face? How? Why?

"I'll… take that as a yes?" Mouse Protector said, with a quiet, uncertain laugh. "Just the name, the eyes, the hair… you've got the resemblance down. Both visually and… well." She shrugged.

"How do…" Kiana's throat was dry, all of a sudden. "Yes. How do you know him? What can you tell me? Do you know where he is?"

She winced. "Oh. Um, no, I'm sorry, it was a long time ago. He helped me out when I was first getting on my feet, trying to go independent. Ended up sticking with Affiliate at the time, but… yeah. He was going by Ronin back then. Niece, I'm guessing?"

Kiana shook her head. "No, no, he's… my father."

She seemed taken aback at that, though Kiana couldn't tell precisely why through the visor. "Well, uh… I'm sorry, I haven't seen him in…" she tilted her head. "Don't know, actually. He sort of dropped off the map not long after."

Kiana slumped. "Oh. I was hoping…" she took a deep breath. Just another lead, Kiana. You have a lead, even if it's a cold one. "Can I get some more details?"

A pause, and then Mouse Protector reached up for her helmet, thumbing a catch and tugging it off. She was… in her thirties, probably, Kiana guessed, with dark brown eyes and black hair tied into a simple braid. She set the helmet aside and smiled. "Okay, that was getting a bit stuffy. If you're Sieg's daughter, I owe the man at least this much. You can call me Suzy."

Kiana blinked, then nodded. "Nice to…" she frowned. It wasn't 'meet you,' they'd already met. "Be introduced to you?"

"Right. So, details! Let's see." Suzy leaned back in her chair, thinking. "This would have been… late nineties, early two-thousands. Not sure what motivated him, but he gave me a hand after I got into a… pretty bad fight with a local villain. Was more than a little messed up afterward, though thankfully nothing permanent. He got me out safe, took me to a safe house of his, and patched me up."

Kiana sighed. Of course her dad had gone out on a limb to rescue a pretty lady. He never could resist that. "Yeah, that… follows." She scowled. "Wait, you and he didn't…" she trailed off. If he'd cheated on her mom, she was going to have some fucking words with him when–

She paused, then grinned. "Are you asking if a young woman, rescued from certain death by a handsome man who nursed her back to health, wanted to…" she waggled her eyebrows. Kiana gagged loudly, and Suzy grinned. "Nah. I mean okay, I had a bit of a crush on him, but it never went anywhere and I didn't want it to. Don't think he even noticed, he was…" she winced. "I'm not sure exactly what happened. He was brooding like a champ at the time. He was pretty fresh in from Europe – never did say where, exactly – but he didn't even get into the whole hero names thing until I explained it." She grinned. "Well, he pretended he'd known all along, but he clearly took about three seconds flat to think of a name when he came up with 'Ronin' of all things. Do you know how many capes there are named 'Ronin?'"

Kiana shook her head. It was… almost surreal, to hear her father described from the outside. It had always just been the two of them. But always with that… absence. She closed her eyes. "How long did…"

"A couple years." She shook her head. "Something came up. He never told me what, but you can tell, you know? When someone's just learned something that upended their worldview. A few days later, his stuff was cleaned out of the lair, except for a note." She smiled a bit sadly. "Never was good at goodbyes, I guess."

Kiana's jaw clenched. No. No, he wasn't. "Thanks." She smiled, but it was fake, a forced and plastic thing. "That… gives me a lead, at least." Even if it also proved that he's always been a huge pain in the ass.

Suzy nodded. "Ah…" she pursed her lips. "Um, are you sure that…" she sighed. "Sorry. Stupid way to start that sentence. I just wanted to ask what your plans are."

"Uh. Like, for dinner?" She blinked at the sudden topic whiplash.

Suzy laughed, and the tension seemed to mostly leave her. "No, I meant…" she gestured around the room. "Like, do you want to be a cape? Get a normal job?" She frowned. "I hope you don't want to be a villain."

Kiana paused, then grinned, digging into her bag for a notebook. "Well, actually, it seems like Brockton Bay… could really use a few more heroes. So I've been thinking about costumes…" She slapped it onto the table triumphantly, flipping it to a relevant page, and then looked up.

Suzy looked down at the notebook. Kiana looked at Suzy. Suzy blinked repeatedly, still looking at the designs. She flipped the page, looking at another.

That meant she liked them, right?
 
1.12: The Ontology of Heroism
"So, what do you think?" Kiana asked.

Mouse Protector – Suzy – looked up from the notebook with a slight frown. Oh no! Did she not like it?

"Costumes are a bit premature," she said. Kiana pouted at the question-dodge. "Before touching on that, it's important to know what you want to be."

"...what do you mean, want to be?"

She closed the notebook, tilting her head and considering something. "Okay. Do you know what types of heroes are out there? What they do?"

"Um… fight villains?" Kiana tilted her head. "Make the government look good, if they're PRT?"

Suzy sighed, then brightened. "Alright!" she said, a new level of verve entering her voice. Or… not new. Renewed. She had, Kiana realized abruptly, been far more subdued in her lair than she had outside. "So, Mouse Protector's Heroism Strategies 101!"

Kiana leaned forward.

"There are a few kinds of hero. The PRT classifies them differently, but my advanced Mouse Science has divided them into three major categories."

"...Mouse Science?" Kiana asked.

"Mouse Science!" Suzy repeated, and grinned. "The most obvious category is the Enforcement type. The Protectorate falls into this category, among others. They focus their efforts on crime, and usually liaise with the police. Sometimes that involves investigation, sometimes it's just roaming around and punching villains in the face when they see them."

Kiana frowned. "So, government stooges?"

Suzy winced. "Well… it depends. Independents can totally fall into that category too."

"Sure, but…" Kiana shrugged. "I mean, they don't need to draw a paycheck to do that. And policing in this city sure isn't what I'd call unbiased."

Suzy sighed and nodded. "Yeah, there is some of that. It's not universal, but… well, at the end of the day the PRT is an arm of the government. Local law enforcement here is a hot mess – let me tell you, the PRT doesn't like them much either – but they still, well…" she sighed again. "You're not entirely wrong, some of that leaks in. Politics comes up. The Feds and the State control the purse strings. There are Empire sympathizers and leaks." Kiana frowned. "And at the end of the day, their goal is, well, enforcement. They identify threats and enforce the rules – well, laws usually, but some independents vary. And it's the fat cats who write the laws."

Kiana fidgeted, mulling it over. That was… a bit more open than she had expected, actually. But… "Doesn't that cover all the heroes? Villains and stuff still end up turned over to the cops, right?"

Suzy shook her head. "Yes, but I'm talking about the goal. The way they want to help people. The Protectorate's main goal is to stop crime. That approach colors everything they do."

"But isn't that what everyone does?"

"No, it's more like…" she considered it. "Say you're shopping for groceries. No matter what you do, you're buying food. But you're going to buy different food if you go in thinking 'I'm gonna make dinner for a date' or 'God I want something sugary' or 'Give me all the cheese they have.'" It's all food, but what that food is is going to vary, right?

"Oh!" Kiana nodded. "Right. If I walk down the street keeping an eye out, I'm gonna notice different things based on if I'm looking for gang shitheads versus cops versus pickpockets."

Suzy blinked, then nodded. "Sure, that works too. Any other questions?" Kiana shook her head. "Okay. So, the next main group is the Community type. These capes are usually more focused in the areas they think are important, but not always. The main thing that defines them is a focus on preemptive work."

"Preemptive? Like, first strikes at villains?"

"No, not like that. It's the rarest type – certainly has the least media coverage – but they focus on the things that cause crime. They run charity drives, they help strengthen communities. They use their platform to try to push for social reforms. The idea, when they think that far ahead, is to get rid of the circumstances that push people into crime, which is linked to poverty and a lack of alternatives."

Kiana nodded. "Yeah. Most of the folks who turn there don't have any other choice." She'd seen that one time and again, while wandering Europe. People turning to robbery for food and money; people joining the local warlord because it'll secure them and their family a roof over their heads.

"Right. The last kind is the Icon. Icons are capes who…" she hummed, thinking. "They focus on faith, or belief, or ideals."

Kiana frowned. "Like, religious?" She'd heard of capes who talked themselves up as gods – hell, that was a going theory she'd heard, that gods of myth were ancient capes, back in the days where they were vanishingly rare – but those people just… weren't all there. Or were cult leaders. What kind of wacko seriously thinks they're a god?

"No, no. Well, I guess that could apply, but I mean the idea of them. Like, look at me." She grinned. "I've got a theme going, right? With the helmet on, I'm not just Suzy, I'm Mouse Protector, champion of the downtrodden and punisher of evil!" She held out an arm as if flourishing her sword at Kiana. It's like…" she cast around for the phrasing. "Capes are larger than life. That's why we put on fancy costumes rather than just run around with balaclavas on. It makes us more than just everyday people."

Kiana blinked, mouthing the words to herself, playing them over in her mind. She had felt that. She'd noticed it herself, even, at Winslow the other day. That the capes she'd met seemed more than everyone around them. Not better, not wiser, but just… a presence to them.

"I think I get what you mean."

Suzy nodded. "Anyway, those heroes really focus on that image, and what that means. They use that to affect people. Take Legend, for instance."

Kiana bit her lip as an image of him formed in her mind. Don't mind if I do…

Suzy raised an eyebrow, then continued. "He's basically made his career off of being an inspiring figure. Genuinely nice and kind, powerful enough to beat the bad guys, good enough at presentation to avoid it looking like bullying. He's the kind of guy who makes you want to be a better person, who helps give you hope for the future. That's important stuff, in a world as… beleaguered as ours."

Kiana nodded solemnly. She remembered how hard it was to keep hope, sometimes, in the fringes of society. What reason was there to hope, when you were all alone, monsters roamed the wilderness, and the closest claimant to law and order was more likely to rob you than protect you?

"'Course, not everyone's as good at that as Legend is. That kind of seemingly-effortless charisma, that uplifting presence? Not my thing. Humor capes like me, we take a slightly different route. We downplay what we are and can do, we make ourselves friendly and non-threatening. Facing danger with a quip and a bad pun gives people hope in and of itself. It makes the danger seem a bit less scary. And it turns fights into a win/win scenario."

Kiana blinked twice, the absurd image of herself crumpled in a crater claiming 'victory' with a fist pump forming unbidden. You're losing me here, Mousey. Some of her confusion must have shown on her face, because Suzy smiled.

"Let me guess," Suzy said, "you're wondering how a fight can ever be a win/win?" Kiana nodded. "Well see, here's the thing. I'm Mouse Protector! I'm a goofball and a dork, a hero for children who makes bad puns and can't take fights seriously. As far as the public's concerned? If someone beats me, of course they beat me. After all, I'm only Mouse Protector. And if I beat someone? They got beaten by Mouse Protector. They lost to a joke, and that makes them a joke."

She paused. "Well, provided you get out alive. Survival has to come first, okay?" She leaned forward and poked Kiana's forehead gently. "Your old man would kill me if I didn't drill that one into you."



Her hands were bloody,

It was a simple fact. It didn't, in all honesty, matter much to her. That squeamishness died a long time ago.

But it was a truth she couldn't ever ignore. A truth her senses fed to her, with unshakable certainty. Each blood cell, each platelet, the plasma itself, was plainly apparent.

She closed her eyes and focused on the soap and water. Felt them vanish from her vision one after another, dead and washed away.

"What's next?" Amy asked as she turned the water off, drying her hands.

"Oh! Right." The nurse jolted upright, checking a clipboard. "Uh, this way I think, miss Panacea."

Amy's jaw clenched at the 'miss,' but she dismissed it. The man wasn't going to suddenly decide to respect her preferences after he'd ignored her the first time. She fixed a neutral expression on her face. "Well?"

He jerked again, then nodded, hurrying down the hall. She had to trot to keep up, the man not bothering to adjust his speed for her smaller stride. Prick.

They stopped in front of a door. She stepped inside, glanced at the patient. Glanced at the clipboard. Introduced herself, gave him the spiel. She'd done this more times than she cared to remember. She knew the motions, knew the words to say, the gestures to make. They rarely changed.

She took his hand the moment he nodded his assent. Information rushed over her. She focused on the immediate, the necessary, but it was just… boring.

The unknown drug interaction was conventional. Low-quality fentanyl, too much alcohol, several prescription drugs. One not on his chart. Denatured the compounds into harmless equivalents, flushed the system, repaired the immediate damage. Noted the additional drug on his chart. Gave him the closing-out speech. Left.

Dull.

The nurse walked her to the next patient, but her thoughts were already miles away. What point was there in being present when there was nothing to be present for?

As they so often did, her thoughts drifted to Vicky. Victoria. Her sister.

When Vicky was around, things had color. Warmth. Vibrancy. Even when she was angry with her, even when Victoria dragged her to things that were exhausting, even on those miserable double dates with Dean and whatever random boy Vicky had settled on as the right match for her this month.

Another patient. Internal bleeding, previously-undetected cancer. She cleared both, flushed the system.

She hated those dates. Hated every moment Vicky spent hanging off of that dull, cardboard cutout of a boy. Hated him.

They were still better than… this. Than nothing. Than slow, grinding emptiness.

Another patient. Blunt force trauma, broken bones, damaged nerves. She stitched them back together.

Vicky, who knew that she liked girls now. A relief, in a way. Frustrating in many more. Of course Vicky happened upon the truth in another wild leap of assumption. Of course, she'd realize that and miss the actual truth. Her… desires.

Amy's free hand clenched, buried in her robe. Her summary to the patient was curt, even by her standards.

Vicky would only push further, she knew. Would decide that her wallflower of a sister had a crush on one of those three girls, and would try to push her towards them. Not a thought about who they really were, or what she wanted. More shopping trips. More torture, still more agonizing for its sweetness.

Another patient. Appendicitis. Clear the inflammation, fix the blockage.

The three girls, the two parahumans and their friend. She hadn't minded spending time with them. Had enjoyed it a bit, maybe. If she had to be pushed into them… her thoughts wandered.

She said her goodbyes to the patient, pushing those thoughts away. She was being a creep. She was objectifying. She should be better than this.

Another patient. Burns, third degree. Nerves, muscles to regrow. A lengthier process. Biomass needed.

Besides, that wasn't why she was… interested in Kiana. She understood why Vicky thought she was. But her interest… she closed her eyes as she reached for another apple, dense with energy to fuel the regrowth.

She grew new nerves, and thought of Kiana's. Of the impossible nerve-strands she saw within her, fiber-optic cables compared to the cheap copper wire she rebuilt step-by-step. She stilled the urge to improve, to give this man something better than the mess that nature had given him. To see if she could reach towards the alien things she had seen, to discern the mechanisms she could not.

She grew new muscles, and she thought of Kiana's. The focus, the strength, the elegance. So little of the randomness evolution gave them, refined. She knew they were powers-related, of course; while she couldn't sense the Honkai energy directly, the muscles tensed with greater force than raw mechanical action could produce. But that only added to the beauty, the intrigue.

She cleared out a proto-tumor, checked the man's DNA for risk factors, and she thought of Kiana's. Of twin helixes, lacking the links of ordinary DNA, yet still connected. Bound to something unseen.

She finished with the patient, and washed her hands, and she thought of Kiana.



The air in Columbus was cold, a bit above freezing, with a light breeze, just enough to chill the eyes. It was nostalgic, really. The neighborhood she trudged through, less so. The trappings of wealth, of nice homes, but without the conspicuous tackiness of the wealthy where she grew up.

She scanned the neighborhood, a quick one-two. No apparent threats. No active recording devices that could see her. The building she stood in front of had, as requested, its security system powered down.

Bronya adjusted her scarf and bag, fixed her mask more firmly in place, and knocked on a door. There was a shuffling inside, and a tall, broad man opened the door, looking down at her. He frowned. "You Argent?"

Bronya nodded. "Yes." The man had long blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and the build of a linebacker. His identity was not difficult to discern from that, given that there were only two candidates in the first place. "You are Sol?" A professional thief, a Transmuter who could mold nonliving objects towards or away from a point.

He nodded, glanced around at the street, and beckoned her in. "I was surprised you moved up the time-table. Something come up?"

Bronya shook her head. "There was a surprise opening. Have your needs changed?"

"Nah, same as before. Medium security on the place, nothing lethal. Low maintenance, nothing that phones home." He gave her an easy smile. "Not that we don't trust you, but…"

Bronya inclined her head. "No offense is taken. You should not trust me beyond what you have paid me for. That is the purpose of the transaction."

"Uh, right." He blinked. "Anyway, we've left everything you asked us to provide in the basement. Anything else you need from us?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I will endeavor to complete the job by nightfall.



"Alright," Kiana said, after letting Suzy's impromptu lesson sit for a moment. "I don't get what that has to do with my costume, though. Doesn't that just depend on what I do?"

Suzy rubbed at her forehead. "You may have heard the saying that PRT stands for 'Public Relations Team?'" Kiana snorted and nodded. "Well, it's not entirely wrong. PR is core to the gig there. But here's the thing: it's core everywhere."

Kiana crossed her arms, giving her a dubious look.

Suzy sighed again. "I know it doesn't seem like it. But think about it. Say you're a random citizen, and get mugged by two big guys. If some figure all in black rushes in, beats them within an inch of their life until they're bleeding on the floor, and leaves without a word, then you might be grateful, but you're probably also scared. You were saved, yes, but the city is a scarier, grimmer place. Meanwhile, if Glory Girl drops in between you and them, drops a quip, casually manhandles them, and waits with you until the police arrive… you're grateful and comforted. You know people are here to protect you. Does that make sense?"

"I guess?" Kiana frowned. "But how does that… oh. Okay, I get the idea. Costume design is another way of doing that?"

"Exactly. For many people, our costume is the only way we're seen and perceived. It's a much more visible marker than almost anything we say or do. We tailor these costumes to project an image, an idea, and then we weave our actions and mannerisms around that frame to reinforce that persona. If you do it right, you'll earn a place in the public's memory and accumulate reputation and impact in the way that, say, America's twentieth 'Ronin' stalking alleyways in a duster never will."

Kiana sighed and slouched back in her chair. "That sounds like a lot of work."

Suzy shrugged. "It can be! It becomes second nature after a while, but training yourself to do it is hard. The PRT gives classes on it, even. They're good! You should take them if you get a chance. Or, I guess, if you don't have a choice."

"And here I thought you weren't gonna report me," Kiana drawled sarcastically. "Mousey Iscariot."

"I did, and a mouse never breaks her word! Not even for large quantities of silver." Suzy winked. "But I do want to give you the full picture here. I wouldn't be doing my duty if I didn't make sure you were aware of the options, and I'd be lying if I said that joining up with the PRT wasn't one of them."

Kiana sighed. "Not really my jam either, but it wouldn't hurt to know more." She was never going to put herself under the thumb of those twits, though. Not if she had any say in the matter.

"So, you could… you're under 18, right?" Kiana nodded. "Okay, you could join the Wards, and graduate to the Protectorate later. The upside there is that you get PR managed for you – yeah, you've gotta abide by whatever decisions the PR and branding guys make, but they take care of the decisions, the licensing, the merchandise. You get a lot of backup, too; the local Protectorate will always jump in to help you, and well… targeting a Ward too openly tends to get the Triumvirate dropping on you like a ton of bricks. You have access to the resources of a government organization, even if your budget isn't unlimited. It is, in a word, safer."

"Sure, like a padded cell is." Kiana crossed her arms.

Suzy nodded. "Exactly. The downside is, you're directly under their authority. They have a lot of room to control what you do, and you don't have much you can do to get out of that. You can't even leave the Wards without a legal guardian pushing hard for it."

Kiana made a gagging sound. "Gross. Pass."

"Yeah, figured. Second is being a PRT Affiliate. That's a program they use a lot, though they don't really like to use it for minors. The only examples I can think of offhand are the ones where there's an adult cape to take responsibility for them, like with New Wave. You get some intel passed from the PRT, have a much easier time getting security clearances, and more importantly you have good lines of communication to coordinate. Going after a villain? You have someone you can call to talk about getting backup, rather than trying to fight through a phone tree or go up the authorization chain."

"And the downside?"

"Well, you still have to follow PRT regs – not as many, but affiliates do have a standard they get held to. It puts some constraints on your PR, but the PRT also doesn't handle the busy-work of it. And the PRT can call on you to help them. If it's an A-class or better, you have to come if they call, legally speaking."

Kiana made a face. Not that she wouldn't be helping against a major threat anyway, because of course she would, but that would be her choice, not a thing she was forced into.

"I was an affiliate for a long time. It… had problems, but the upsides are real too. Still, I'm an independent now. No PRT assistance unless you can make your case to them, no branding assistance or restrictions, merchandising is all your own gig. The loot rules mean you can snag loot from criminals and sell it to the PRT, which helps a bit, but their rates are… not the best. I've seen worse, they're not a pawn shop, but… well, unless you have a Tinker nemesis with a bunch of tech you can sell, you're probably not getting rich off it."

"Hmm…"

"However." Suzy's voice turned grim, and Kiana's attention sharpened. "Independents have a very high death rate, comparatively. At the end of a day, having a team helps you survive. Having backup and resources keeps you alive when things spin out of control. More than half of solo independents are permanently injured or killed in their first two years."

Kiana shrugged. Sure, but she was better than that half anyway.

Suzy sighed. "Alright. If that's how it's going to be… ordinarily, my suggestion would be, honestly, to join the Wards until you turn 18, then go your own way if you want to." Kiana opened her mouth to protest, but she raised a hand to forestall that. "But that's only a decent plan for someone who'd actually fit in there. And somehow I doubt you're one to toe the line or respect government authority."

"I respect the authorities when, uh…" Kiana frowned, thinking about it. "Nah, you're on the money."

"Right. So, in that case, being an Affiliate isn't a bad choice, if you can get a team. Thing is, only Affiliates in town are New Wave. You might be able to talk them into it – sounds like you've at least met Glory Girl and Panacea, which is a start – but they're going to insist that you be unmasked. Also…" she made a face. "Eh, don't put too much stock in it, but I get some weird vibes from them sometimes. If you wanna do it, though, I'll back you up, come with you to the talks even."

That thought gave Kiana a bit more pause. New Wave was… well, for one thing, they were cute. All of them that she'd seen were damn cuties. She'd looked up the others, and just… dang. Well, except Shielder, but he was cute in the kid-you-want-to-protect way, so that still worked.

She liked Glory Girl. Panacea was adorable and absolutely needed some help. But… she sighed. The unmasking was going to be an issue. There just wasn't a way that her unmasking didn't lead to Mei and Bronya being found out, and that wasn't something she was willing to ask of them.

She shook her head regretfully. "I don't think unmasking is in the cards for me. I don't even really know if…" she shrugged. "I don't know how long I'll be staying here, you know?"

Suzy looked at Kiana quietly, contemplatively. "I wasn't kidding when I said going solo was dangerous."

Kiana worried at her lip. "Okay, but… I don't have to go solo."

Suzy tilted her head confusedly, but Kiana could see the growing realization in her eyes. "You have a teammate in mind?"

"Well…" she paused. Put on her best puppy eyes – not too exaggerated, not too subtle, just enough to evoke pity. Leaned in a bit, elbows propping her up. "What if I had… a mentor?"

Suzy's eyes widened, and she started to shake her head.

"Kiana, are you…"

"A… guardian. A certain… Mouse Protector?"

Suzy stared down at her, then slumped, looking almost defeated. "You're gonna do it anyway even if I don't agree, aren't you."

"Yep!" Kiana replied cheerily.

"You're a menace, you know that?" Suzy said, sighing.

"Yep!"

"...alright, fine. Give me a day or two to think this over, jot down some ideas and get my head straight, and then we should start by brainstorming your costume and theme."

Kiana opened her mouth for a very excited barrage of thank-yous, but Suzy held up a finger to interrupt.

"I get veto power," she said firmly. "If you want me to mentor you, you're going to be under my umbrella. My image is important. Agreed?" She paused, then added, under her breath, "And you obviously can't be trusted with design decisions."

Kiana blinked. She must have heard that last line wrong, that didn't make any sense. Her designs were great! But, fine, she had bullied Suzy into this. She could compromise.

You know, a little bit.

"Yep!" she agreed, beaming. Mouse Protector slumped a bit, then shook it off, standing up.

"Well, Kiana," Mouse Protector said, extending a hand for a shake. Kiana took it. "Welcome to… the Mouse Protectorate."

Kiana froze. "We're not actually going with that, right?"

Mouse Protector grinned.

"...right?"
 
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