A Conjuror's journey
PieceThruWar
Not an eldritch abomination
- Location
- The Server Farm
It's no Fork of Horripilation, but not everything can be so powerful.
PieceThruWar
Not an eldritch abomination
- Location
- The Server Farm
Word of Kiba's death has not made it back to the rest of Team 8 yet, timeline-wise Trobror just finished his fight in the quarry and is about to call for a pickup. I'm not saying you can't take them, just that there's no grieving at the moment.
Necromantic preperations
PieceThruWar
Not an eldritch abomination
- Location
- The Server Farm
After taking a few minutes to grab a spare canteen from the growing stockpile of equipment and resources the organization has gathering, you head over to the cows and fill it with milk. It appears that at some point after you went into the genetic augmentation pod, some poor farmer was driven from his land by bandits and offered his last remaining two-headed cow in exchange for shelter for his daughter. The family of two were practically Cattleya's personal helpers at this point, ensuring that the refugees with no experience outside of city life didn't ruin the effort she put into revitalizing the soil over the past week.
Putting the cap on the bottle and climbing back into your power armor with your knapsack, you approach the elder Valliere as she is creating a small rain cloud to water the outer ring of crops around the base. With so much manpower being dedicated toward them and most of the threats in the immediate area dealt with, it's likely that the food growing effort will extend beyond the outer walls after this first harvest. Edible plants will probably be X-com's largest source of income even after the wasteland refugees begin pouring in as they no doubt will.
Shifting focus from the organizations eventual domination of the region, you wave in greeting. "Good afternoon."
"Oh Cynric, Good afternoon to you too." Cattleya replies, letting her tiny cloud wander. "I take it your trip to the city was a success?"
"indeed, though the others will arrive later. I heard troubling news and decided to return." Seeing her concerned expression, you hold up a hand to forestall her questions. "There are rumors of unusual events occurring at museum to the North, one devoted to the study of witchcraft according to my source... I expect some manner of enchantment gone awry at best."
"And at worst?"
Sighing, you move to run a hand through your hair only to be stopped by your helmet. "At worst there is a wizard of unknown strength and potentially hostile motive living within half a day's march."
"That's... that's not good." The buxom pinkette replies quietly, to which you nodded in agreement. With a look of defeat, she continued, "I'm not strong or capable in a fight... not like Louise... I-I do want to help, I'll do wha-"
"That will not be necessary." You say, cutting her off before she can guilt herself into going. "We are better served by keeping you here, losing your skills in transmutation and healing would be untenable."
"But my healing spells aren't even-"
She tries to argue, but you speak over her. "With Louise gone on her little escapade in Brockton Bay and my limited magicka, you are out best and only useful healer in the event of a serious battle. Do you understand?" Hanging her head in both shame and relief, she hums to the affirmative and you place a hand on her shoulder. "The important work is not necessarily the most glamorous."
"I know." She says with a small, sad smile. "I just... Even without being bedridden, I still feel useless. I always knew Louise would one day overshadow me and I'm proud of her, but it stings to know I may as well be a commoner in comparison to my baby sister's abilities."
"I was under the impression that you did not want to fight." You point out, recalling her previous admission.
"I don't. Not really." Cattleya responds.
Unsure of what to say, you simply nod and the two of you stand in silence as the rain falls. It would seem your sort-of-apprentice doesn't quite know what she wants, which while understandable, doesn't exactly help you resolve the issue. Maybe once you have time, you should just have her tested by Hircine... He is rather reasonable for an unknowable deity from beyond the realms of mortal comprehension, so he wouldn't give her a task that is impossible for her. You already taught her the basics of tracking and stealth, and the only reason you bothered with that unfinished starvation training was to prepare her for controlling Hircine's blessing. She should be fine.
Nodding to yourself, your thoughts are interrupted when the young woman abruptly announces, "I think we should send Hinata to Louise."
"What?! why?" You ask, having just been about to ask whether Cattleya had managed to heal the child enough to drag her with you to Salem.
"Well, she's been so quiet since she lost her arm... Have you seen how broken she looks, wandering around like she doesn't know what to do with herself?" You nod in sympathy despite the fact that you really hadn't bothered to check on her. It seemed rather irrelevant considering the fact that if she dies, you and Vahlen will probably benefit more from experimenting on her corpse than you would from keeping her alive and happy. "I know Raymond said something about giving her a machine replacement, but why do that when we know Louise can regrow it for her? Besides, they seemed to be fond of one another and I'm sure they would both appreciate it."
Sighing, because of course your soft spot for your troublesome apprentice would cost you valuable research, you grumble, "Fine, you can try to use a phoenix to send her there, but if it does not work she will wait until we are ready to establish a gate."
Not deigning to respond to the gratitude and praise bursting from Cattleya, you walk off in search of someone that would actually be useful in your upcoming investigation. Though walking back into the inner courtyard and over to the partially buried tent that is used as the community recreation area beside what serves as the dining hall. Inside you find the pseudo-centaur arachnid you were hoping to see. Apparently the refugees from Springdale have grown accustomed to Victoria's appearance and while not all of them are comfortable in her presence, only a few people other than an unstable street preacher continue to actively oppose her existence. Her generally friendly and helpful attitude certainly help.
In the center of the room, surrounded by those too young or elderly to perform manual labor, Victoria is spinning her silk. Children heedlessly run around behind her to bundle up the threads under the concerned and wary eyes of their elders while said elders diligently craft all manner of fabric product. From pillow cases, to clothing, to silken sandbags; it would appear X-com's primary fabric is to be magical spider silk and even if it doesn't actually have any magical properties, the thought alone feels ostentatious. Despite this, the process does look to be very much a work in progress and you doubt they can keep a constant pace. Everyone seems to be ignoring the disconcerting sounds her body is making as they work, though you're unsure which is worse, the sound of her spinnerets or the toothy maw's occasional gnashing.
Holding up a poorly woven cloth in front of her, she sighs at your approach, "I'm kinda in the middle of something here."
"There is supposedly some unknown magical power not far up the coast and if we do not investigate it, the results could be disastrous." You say in answer to her unspoken question.
"Yeah... that sounds like a 'you' problem if you ask me." She replies, rolling her eyes as she goes back to work. "I thought you were some kind of super wizard, can't you just magic up something?"
And so it was that you found yourself three hours later with a sigil stone in one hand, sitting beside a mound of sun-bleached bones outside a building labeled 'Sandy Coves Retirement Home' as three of the firebirds ferry pieces of dead people from the area around the base. Six extremely old skeletons that you assume are from before the cataclysm that destroyed this world, three from whatever killed the recently dead inhabitants of University point, and two used as spare parts... not bad considering how long you waited since arriving in this world. You would have thought sentimental rubbish such as burying or respecting the dead would have been more of a hindrance, but apparently the refugees had more important matters to attend to and simply dumped the bones in a corner for you. With the discarded corpses from the Gunner's attack and your freshly retrieved (not to mention extremely dissatisfied) Golden Saint, your total force is brought up to twenty three plus yourself.
Harnessing the Sigil Stone's ability to channel large amounts of magicka for effectively limitless energy, you carefully animate your undead attack force by directly controlling them with magicka rather than binding a daedra for more independence. The downside to using the stone being that it is time consuming to do so without a pre-inscribed purpose for the magicka such as was on your tower. This of course is mitigated by the fact that you are in no real hurry and should the need arise, your Golden Saint is more than capable of defending you from most threats you can think of long enough for you to safely cancel the process.
"My Lord will dance on your liver, mortal."
Yes, everything is perfectly in hand.
Status: Healthy.
Magicka: (50/650) *limitless if stationary
Plan of action:
[] Remain where you are while the undead clear the town, reanimate as necessary/possible.
[] Head directly to the Museum with the undead in a defensive formation around you.
[] Sneak in through the back of the museum, keeping the undead outside unless you are discovered.
[] Write in.
Responding to the Saint:
[] Write in.
[] Don't respond.
-------------------
A/N: You would have had 13 more skeletons if Louise hadn't blown up Sedgwick hall. By the by, you can't synthesize elerium. I will say that it's crystallized bio-energy, so if anyone knows a franchise featuring that then you know where to look for the most efficient fuel source in this quest.
Putting the cap on the bottle and climbing back into your power armor with your knapsack, you approach the elder Valliere as she is creating a small rain cloud to water the outer ring of crops around the base. With so much manpower being dedicated toward them and most of the threats in the immediate area dealt with, it's likely that the food growing effort will extend beyond the outer walls after this first harvest. Edible plants will probably be X-com's largest source of income even after the wasteland refugees begin pouring in as they no doubt will.
Shifting focus from the organizations eventual domination of the region, you wave in greeting. "Good afternoon."
"Oh Cynric, Good afternoon to you too." Cattleya replies, letting her tiny cloud wander. "I take it your trip to the city was a success?"
"indeed, though the others will arrive later. I heard troubling news and decided to return." Seeing her concerned expression, you hold up a hand to forestall her questions. "There are rumors of unusual events occurring at museum to the North, one devoted to the study of witchcraft according to my source... I expect some manner of enchantment gone awry at best."
"And at worst?"
Sighing, you move to run a hand through your hair only to be stopped by your helmet. "At worst there is a wizard of unknown strength and potentially hostile motive living within half a day's march."
"That's... that's not good." The buxom pinkette replies quietly, to which you nodded in agreement. With a look of defeat, she continued, "I'm not strong or capable in a fight... not like Louise... I-I do want to help, I'll do wha-"
"That will not be necessary." You say, cutting her off before she can guilt herself into going. "We are better served by keeping you here, losing your skills in transmutation and healing would be untenable."
"But my healing spells aren't even-"
She tries to argue, but you speak over her. "With Louise gone on her little escapade in Brockton Bay and my limited magicka, you are out best and only useful healer in the event of a serious battle. Do you understand?" Hanging her head in both shame and relief, she hums to the affirmative and you place a hand on her shoulder. "The important work is not necessarily the most glamorous."
"I know." She says with a small, sad smile. "I just... Even without being bedridden, I still feel useless. I always knew Louise would one day overshadow me and I'm proud of her, but it stings to know I may as well be a commoner in comparison to my baby sister's abilities."
"I was under the impression that you did not want to fight." You point out, recalling her previous admission.
"I don't. Not really." Cattleya responds.
Unsure of what to say, you simply nod and the two of you stand in silence as the rain falls. It would seem your sort-of-apprentice doesn't quite know what she wants, which while understandable, doesn't exactly help you resolve the issue. Maybe once you have time, you should just have her tested by Hircine... He is rather reasonable for an unknowable deity from beyond the realms of mortal comprehension, so he wouldn't give her a task that is impossible for her. You already taught her the basics of tracking and stealth, and the only reason you bothered with that unfinished starvation training was to prepare her for controlling Hircine's blessing. She should be fine.
Nodding to yourself, your thoughts are interrupted when the young woman abruptly announces, "I think we should send Hinata to Louise."
"What?! why?" You ask, having just been about to ask whether Cattleya had managed to heal the child enough to drag her with you to Salem.
"Well, she's been so quiet since she lost her arm... Have you seen how broken she looks, wandering around like she doesn't know what to do with herself?" You nod in sympathy despite the fact that you really hadn't bothered to check on her. It seemed rather irrelevant considering the fact that if she dies, you and Vahlen will probably benefit more from experimenting on her corpse than you would from keeping her alive and happy. "I know Raymond said something about giving her a machine replacement, but why do that when we know Louise can regrow it for her? Besides, they seemed to be fond of one another and I'm sure they would both appreciate it."
Sighing, because of course your soft spot for your troublesome apprentice would cost you valuable research, you grumble, "Fine, you can try to use a phoenix to send her there, but if it does not work she will wait until we are ready to establish a gate."
Not deigning to respond to the gratitude and praise bursting from Cattleya, you walk off in search of someone that would actually be useful in your upcoming investigation. Though walking back into the inner courtyard and over to the partially buried tent that is used as the community recreation area beside what serves as the dining hall. Inside you find the pseudo-centaur arachnid you were hoping to see. Apparently the refugees from Springdale have grown accustomed to Victoria's appearance and while not all of them are comfortable in her presence, only a few people other than an unstable street preacher continue to actively oppose her existence. Her generally friendly and helpful attitude certainly help.
In the center of the room, surrounded by those too young or elderly to perform manual labor, Victoria is spinning her silk. Children heedlessly run around behind her to bundle up the threads under the concerned and wary eyes of their elders while said elders diligently craft all manner of fabric product. From pillow cases, to clothing, to silken sandbags; it would appear X-com's primary fabric is to be magical spider silk and even if it doesn't actually have any magical properties, the thought alone feels ostentatious. Despite this, the process does look to be very much a work in progress and you doubt they can keep a constant pace. Everyone seems to be ignoring the disconcerting sounds her body is making as they work, though you're unsure which is worse, the sound of her spinnerets or the toothy maw's occasional gnashing.
Holding up a poorly woven cloth in front of her, she sighs at your approach, "I'm kinda in the middle of something here."
"There is supposedly some unknown magical power not far up the coast and if we do not investigate it, the results could be disastrous." You say in answer to her unspoken question.
"Yeah... that sounds like a 'you' problem if you ask me." She replies, rolling her eyes as she goes back to work. "I thought you were some kind of super wizard, can't you just magic up something?"
And so it was that you found yourself three hours later with a sigil stone in one hand, sitting beside a mound of sun-bleached bones outside a building labeled 'Sandy Coves Retirement Home' as three of the firebirds ferry pieces of dead people from the area around the base. Six extremely old skeletons that you assume are from before the cataclysm that destroyed this world, three from whatever killed the recently dead inhabitants of University point, and two used as spare parts... not bad considering how long you waited since arriving in this world. You would have thought sentimental rubbish such as burying or respecting the dead would have been more of a hindrance, but apparently the refugees had more important matters to attend to and simply dumped the bones in a corner for you. With the discarded corpses from the Gunner's attack and your freshly retrieved (not to mention extremely dissatisfied) Golden Saint, your total force is brought up to twenty three plus yourself.
Harnessing the Sigil Stone's ability to channel large amounts of magicka for effectively limitless energy, you carefully animate your undead attack force by directly controlling them with magicka rather than binding a daedra for more independence. The downside to using the stone being that it is time consuming to do so without a pre-inscribed purpose for the magicka such as was on your tower. This of course is mitigated by the fact that you are in no real hurry and should the need arise, your Golden Saint is more than capable of defending you from most threats you can think of long enough for you to safely cancel the process.
"My Lord will dance on your liver, mortal."
Yes, everything is perfectly in hand.
Status: Healthy.
Magicka: (50/650) *limitless if stationary
Plan of action:
[] Remain where you are while the undead clear the town, reanimate as necessary/possible.
[] Write in.
[] Head directly to the Museum with the undead in a defensive formation around you.
[] Sneak in through the back of the museum, keeping the undead outside unless you are discovered.
[] Write in.
Responding to the Saint:
[] Write in.
[] Don't respond.
-------------------
A/N: You would have had 13 more skeletons if Louise hadn't blown up Sedgwick hall. By the by, you can't synthesize elerium. I will say that it's crystallized bio-energy, so if anyone knows a franchise featuring that then you know where to look for the most efficient fuel source in this quest.
PieceThruWar
Not an eldritch abomination
- Location
- The Server Farm
They returned to base.
Barnes
Laughing on the outside, laughing on the inside
- Location
- Definetly not my parent's basement
[X] Remain where you are while the undead clear the town, reanimate as necessary/possible.
[X] Don't respond.
No real clever ideas here, just methodically have the disposable minions work their way to the target while Cynric remains clear of danger. X-Com can be sent in to safely loot the town afterwards, too.
I'm all for taunting the Golden Saint, it's not like it can hate Cynric any more than it does, but I don't have anything pithy in mind, so.
[X] Don't respond.
No real clever ideas here, just methodically have the disposable minions work their way to the target while Cynric remains clear of danger. X-Com can be sent in to safely loot the town afterwards, too.
I'm all for taunting the Golden Saint, it's not like it can hate Cynric any more than it does, but I don't have anything pithy in mind, so.
Marching On Salem
PieceThruWar
Not an eldritch abomination
- Location
- The Server Farm
With twenty two undead minions in various states of decay from bloated Gunner to skeletal, you send the command to advance. Forming a spread out line, the corpses march into the crumbling streets of Salem only to be met with gunfire. Machine gun turrets blaze from several buildings around the area, tearing apart bodies and shattering bones. Not even a minute passes before your minions flood into the central church for cover while a skeleton climbs the steeple to destroy the turret on top.
Unfazed by pain or injury, the undead are barely slowed by the damage received, with only one skeleton being rendered down for spare parts to repair the others. The zombies fare much better, their flesh preventing something as minuscule as a broken leg from hindering their movement. Though none are armed with anything more than jagged metal or rusted pipes torn from the ruined structures that cover this world, the turret on the church is swiftly dealt a crippling blow that bends it's gun barrels and is thrown from the steeple allowing the majority of your forces to resume the attack.
Dividing the undead into smaller groups, you send zombies out first to distract the unthinking machines, their programming causing them to focus on the first target available while others shamble forward. With this method, you disable four of the five turrets before your minions are blindsided by a tide of chitin. A dozen of the giant crustaceans you'd heard about rush into the fray and tear into your zombies with ease, pincers holding them in place while smaller limbs pluck off meat to be shoved into twitching maws. Your skeletons are go ignored for the most part, allowing them to get a surprise blow on the mutated crabs, killing only one before being easily dealt with.
Frustrated, you repeatedly resurrect the bones and use them to distract the creatures while the last remaining machine gun works toward killing them. It's tedious, but eventually half of the beasts are reduced to twitching corpses and you begin to force magicka into their shells when your minions notice a secondary source of gunfire.
There is an old man in a woolen hat shooting at the crustaceans.
Status: Healthy.
Magicka: (50/650)
Choose:
[] Send a skeleton to kill him, you could use another zombie and this one would come with a rifle.
[] Finish off the crabs and ignore him. You came for the museum, not an old man.
[] Finish off the crabs and attempt peaceful contact.
[] Write in.
Unfazed by pain or injury, the undead are barely slowed by the damage received, with only one skeleton being rendered down for spare parts to repair the others. The zombies fare much better, their flesh preventing something as minuscule as a broken leg from hindering their movement. Though none are armed with anything more than jagged metal or rusted pipes torn from the ruined structures that cover this world, the turret on the church is swiftly dealt a crippling blow that bends it's gun barrels and is thrown from the steeple allowing the majority of your forces to resume the attack.
Dividing the undead into smaller groups, you send zombies out first to distract the unthinking machines, their programming causing them to focus on the first target available while others shamble forward. With this method, you disable four of the five turrets before your minions are blindsided by a tide of chitin. A dozen of the giant crustaceans you'd heard about rush into the fray and tear into your zombies with ease, pincers holding them in place while smaller limbs pluck off meat to be shoved into twitching maws. Your skeletons are go ignored for the most part, allowing them to get a surprise blow on the mutated crabs, killing only one before being easily dealt with.
Frustrated, you repeatedly resurrect the bones and use them to distract the creatures while the last remaining machine gun works toward killing them. It's tedious, but eventually half of the beasts are reduced to twitching corpses and you begin to force magicka into their shells when your minions notice a secondary source of gunfire.
There is an old man in a woolen hat shooting at the crustaceans.
Status: Healthy.
Magicka: (50/650)
Choose:
[] Send a skeleton to kill him, you could use another zombie and this one would come with a rifle.
[] Finish off the crabs and ignore him. You came for the museum, not an old man.
[] Finish off the crabs and attempt peaceful contact.
[] Meet him in person.
[] Send the Golden Saint.
[] Send the Golden Saint.
[] Write in.
Barnes
Laughing on the outside, laughing on the inside
- Location
- Definetly not my parent's basement
Beats me, haven't played Fallout 4, but given that when presented with the options of the living dead and mutant crabs, choosing to shoot the mirelurks is indicative of a practical and open-minded sort of person, I think.
A Heroic Point Of View
PieceThruWar
Not an eldritch abomination
- Location
- The Server Farm
'What kind of neglectful monster raised you?!'
That was the question Victoria had asked and Louise gave it the consideration it deserved. After all, Vicky was a friend, even if she was a younger Vicky than before. Deciding against lying unnecessarily, she answered, "My mother. She was known as the scourge of Germania, as well as many other lands. She raised my sisters and I under a simple rule, the rule of steel. No emotion, but cruel discipline."
Victoria's dawning horror was enough to indicate understanding.
"When she discovered that my grandfather had been teaching me, she decided that I had been tainted, and that the only solution was my death. So we had no choice but to leave."
"I... T-that's horrible!" Was all Vicky managed to choke out, practically diving on top of Louise to hug her. After a brief and panicked struggle, the pinkette relaxed into the embrace. Almost a minute later, Vicky ended the hug and held Louise out at arms length and confused red eyes met the intense blue as the blonde heroine declared, "No, I refuse to accept something so sad! You're coming with me, you're going to have fun, and you're going to like it!"
"Don't I get an opinion on this?" Louise hedged nervously as Vicky's shook her head and tightened her grip on the pinkette's shoulders.
-------Later, at the PRT---------
"Glory Girl told me that the kid had to flee Europe because her mother was a villain in the Gesellschaft, or some similar groups of villains, possibly the Three Blasphemies, and had decided to kill her." Gallant, also know as Dean Stansfield, explained to his assembled superiors.
Sitting at her desk was Director Piggot, her dialysis machine running behind her due to the late nature of the meeting. Dean always felt irrationally guilty in these situations despite knowing that she'd be more upset if he had waited to pass the news along, the downside to being a super powered empath. Standing behind the director was Armsmaster, the Tinker's expression neutral while his annoyance and anxiety swirled around like oil on water. The man was not happy and Dean was sure it had nothing to do with the current meeting... the man was hardly paying any attention.
At the end of the conference table were Assault and Battery, the married couple quietly bickering like... well a married couple. No matter how many times his wife corrected him, Ethan would revert back to his lackadaisical attitude within minutes at most. To the right of then sat Miss Militia. Respectable, responsible, earnest, and caring Miss Militia; the Ideal hero whose standard every Ward aspired to meet. Or at least, that's how Gallant thought it should be. She was like a female Legend in some ways, though much more 'real' without the Triumvirate hero's overwhelming firepower.
Armsmaster motioned for silence before stating, "Dragon pinned her accent down as East Belgian, somewhere along the German border is most likely due to the girl's own statement."
"So a refugee then." Piggot sighed, leaning back in her seat. "What can we find on the mother, is there a chance this girl's presence will lead to the Gesellschaft sending reinforcements to the E88?"
"Not much unfortunately. The Gesellschaft is a large organization, they have entire camps devoted to forcing people to trigger and brainwashing the 'useful' results." Miss Militia, Hannah, answered with a potent cloud of disgust and resentment at the thought. Dean wasn't privy to all the information of his superiors' pasts, but he would bet there was a history there. "The sheer number of possible thinkers and tinkers they might have hiding in the shadows is unknown, but the woman definitely isn't one of their public capes... We might need to take the girl into protective custody if the Empire start acting up."
"Of course they're going to act up with Lung in our holding cells, they can't afford not to." The director growled. "Now on top of the impending gang war, Lungs necrotic testis, and the inevitable breakout attempt, we need to prepare for covert operatives of an ultra-nationalist group of parahuman racists... Fuck!"
The cursing was out of character from what Dean had experienced from the woman in the past and so was the accompanying fist that crashed down on the desk. She'd always radiated various shades of frustration, anger, and resentment toward... well, everyone really... but she was usually much more composed when dealing with the Wards. Not that anyone would blame the woman, given that her words were right on the mark. Seeing the opportunity, he cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention. "Ma'am, I could ask Vi- Glory Girl if her family would be willing to keep an eye on the girl for us. I'm sure New Wave would be willing to take her in."
"While I appreciate the sentiment Gallant, New Wave is in no condition to protect her from what amounts to a foreign army. That's leaving aside the matter of her grandfather, whom we only know of through this... Louise's trusting naivety. The brat couldn't even bother with a cape name, the man is as good as dead."
"If I may." Armsmaster spoke up from his corner, "I believe she is using a psuedonym. There are no records of anyone by the name Louise Vallière born within ten years of her apparent age. Leaving aside possible physical alterations of age or pigmentation due to powers, the likely conclusion is that the name she used is her cape name."
Assault chose that moment to look up from doodling on an annoyed Battery's arm. Honestly, Jannet was practically a saint for putting up with the man. "Wow, she sounds like a lot of fun at parties. Seriously, what kind of unimaginative name is 'Louise Valliere'? What's next, a Tinker named Tod?"
It really wasn't an appropriate time for jokes... though Dean could hardly judge him for however chose to cope after Robin's death. Out of all of them, Assault and Dauntless were the only two that Velocity had spent much time with other than the PRT officers. It was too sudden and no body had been found, so it just didn't feel real for the rest of them yet he supposed. Velocity had been sent to investigate a case of breaking and entering after the home owner reported a cape's involvement. No name or description was given other than female, but the apartment exploding in lightning and ice before the whole building burnt down was all the evidence they needed. After all, Lung did just recruit a bomb Tinker.
"Louise de La Vallière, born August sixth, sixteen-sixty-one in Tours, France. Mistress to Louise the fourteenth." Armsmaster stated with a slight tinge of satisfaction. "Not every parahuman is irreverent or juvenile enough to name themself after a crime and pretend to be witty."
"All bite and no bark, Armsman my man, didn't even sting." The roguish hero replied with a grin. The collected females sighed in unison, causing Dean's lips to quirk as he suppressed a smile at how resilient the older man was, but he felt no need to steal their ire from Assault and didn't let it show even with his armor on.
Battery covered her face with her hands and asked, "Can you be serious for a moment? We're talking about a literal Nazi invasion!"
"And?" Assault shrugged. "It's not like we aren't used to Nazis in this town. Besides, there's not much we can do until they make their move other than step up patrols... you know, like we're doing anyways."
Hannah's power flickered, her normally implacable calm yet to return after whatever thoughts had disturbed it earlier. "Kaiser and his gang aren't like the Gesellschaft. Kaiser doesn't abduct and brainwash children, Purity doesn't bomb synagogues, Hookwolf doesn't round up foreigners and execute them in the streets! You aren't taking this serious enough."
"We've got a dragon in the basement, your argument is invalid." The man laughed, to the irritation of all before holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I get it, really... but, what more do you expect? If they attack, they attack. It's up to us to hit them back three times as hard."
Director Piggot had apparently decided that enough was enough, as she said, "I see we won't be getting anywhere with this at the moment. Everyone out, I need to speak with the board of directors about this, maybe we can finally get some assistance for once."
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean bid them all a good night and headed for the Wards section of Headquarters. Thankful that he didn't have another patrol for the night, he walked in to see Chris working on homework and a bored Missy on console duty. Doing his best to ignore his discomfort at the visible effects of her noticing him, he returned her wave and sat down on the couch. The other Wards were either at home or on patrol, so it was just the three of them.
"So, did you learn any secrets in the big meeting?" Chris asked, relieved to have a distraction.
"Not much." He shrugged and slapped at a mosquito that had somehow found its way all the way in there. "That pink haired girl the others saw at the bank is apparently from Belgium, her mom deserves worst mother of the year, and the Nazis hate her guts."
"Think she'll join?" The young Tinker asked, scratching out one of the answers on his paper.
Pretending not to notice the way Vista's emotions flared or the telltale distortion as she tried to be sneaky about listening in, Gallant shook his head. "From what Vicky says, she isn't keen on being a hero, she just wants to take care of her grandfather."
Deflating to let her head rest on the console, Missy gave up all pretense and moaned, "That's dumb, why not? I think it would be awesome to have her on the team."
"You just don't want to be the youngest anymore." Chris teased, likely weirded out by his own suggestion that there could be a younger team member. It wasn't really fair to her since she was the most experienced, but everyone had come to see her as the little sister of the group. It annoyed her whenever anyone even implied her youth. Oh, how he knew it annoyed her. The rants, the threats, the stifling cloud of indignation, forcing herself to drink black coffee and use what other kids her age would consider grown-up words... Dean would prefer to avoid another week of overly thought out sophistication and suppressed gagging, thank you very much.
"No. Well okay, yeah... but I want a non-bitchy girl on the team." She replied, completely ignoring Dean's admonishment over her language. Thankfully she understood that it was a PR rule and didn't go off every time he called her out for cursing. "Besides, she's a healer right? Don't tell me you guys wouldn't love having a healer on call."
While it would be nice to have someone to fix up their wounds, Amy didn't really do requests and wasn't all that helpful to the PRT or Protectorate unless she was already at the scene of the crime, he was sure she could make a bigger difference in the Hospitals. If not for healing people, then for Amy's peace of mind. The girl had been spiraling into depression over her guilt and infatuation with her sister for so long. I really don't want to see the day she snaps... hopefully having a protegee-friend-colleague-person would help.
He shook his head, idly both to scare off the persistent bug and show his denial. "It doesn't matter what we want."
"Well that sucks. What's so important about her grandpa that she needs to take care of him anyways, if he was sick or something she could just heal him and if she joined she'd get paid enough to help him, right?"
"The guy saved her life and brought her to America to escape Nazi brainwashing. I wouldn't doubt if one of their powers had a permanent effect that left the man disabled or comatose... I don't blame her for not trusting a large organization after growing up around the Gesellschaft." Dean explained, causing Missy to choke on her spit.
After catching her breath, she exclaimed, "That's fucked up!"
Not even bothering to correct her, he nodded his agreement. It really, truly was a fucked up situation all around. Deciding to change the subject, he asked, "So how are Stalker and Clockblocker doing out there?"
Vista's aura darkened with anger and he knew the upcoming rant would make him regret asking. "That bitch-" Scratch that, he already regretted it.
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A/N: Finished this a while ago and figured now would be a good time to post it before it was too out of place on the timeline. Inspired by yinko
That was the question Victoria had asked and Louise gave it the consideration it deserved. After all, Vicky was a friend, even if she was a younger Vicky than before. Deciding against lying unnecessarily, she answered, "My mother. She was known as the scourge of Germania, as well as many other lands. She raised my sisters and I under a simple rule, the rule of steel. No emotion, but cruel discipline."
Victoria's dawning horror was enough to indicate understanding.
"When she discovered that my grandfather had been teaching me, she decided that I had been tainted, and that the only solution was my death. So we had no choice but to leave."
"I... T-that's horrible!" Was all Vicky managed to choke out, practically diving on top of Louise to hug her. After a brief and panicked struggle, the pinkette relaxed into the embrace. Almost a minute later, Vicky ended the hug and held Louise out at arms length and confused red eyes met the intense blue as the blonde heroine declared, "No, I refuse to accept something so sad! You're coming with me, you're going to have fun, and you're going to like it!"
"Don't I get an opinion on this?" Louise hedged nervously as Vicky's shook her head and tightened her grip on the pinkette's shoulders.
-------Later, at the PRT---------
"Glory Girl told me that the kid had to flee Europe because her mother was a villain in the Gesellschaft, or some similar groups of villains, possibly the Three Blasphemies, and had decided to kill her." Gallant, also know as Dean Stansfield, explained to his assembled superiors.
Sitting at her desk was Director Piggot, her dialysis machine running behind her due to the late nature of the meeting. Dean always felt irrationally guilty in these situations despite knowing that she'd be more upset if he had waited to pass the news along, the downside to being a super powered empath. Standing behind the director was Armsmaster, the Tinker's expression neutral while his annoyance and anxiety swirled around like oil on water. The man was not happy and Dean was sure it had nothing to do with the current meeting... the man was hardly paying any attention.
At the end of the conference table were Assault and Battery, the married couple quietly bickering like... well a married couple. No matter how many times his wife corrected him, Ethan would revert back to his lackadaisical attitude within minutes at most. To the right of then sat Miss Militia. Respectable, responsible, earnest, and caring Miss Militia; the Ideal hero whose standard every Ward aspired to meet. Or at least, that's how Gallant thought it should be. She was like a female Legend in some ways, though much more 'real' without the Triumvirate hero's overwhelming firepower.
Armsmaster motioned for silence before stating, "Dragon pinned her accent down as East Belgian, somewhere along the German border is most likely due to the girl's own statement."
"So a refugee then." Piggot sighed, leaning back in her seat. "What can we find on the mother, is there a chance this girl's presence will lead to the Gesellschaft sending reinforcements to the E88?"
"Not much unfortunately. The Gesellschaft is a large organization, they have entire camps devoted to forcing people to trigger and brainwashing the 'useful' results." Miss Militia, Hannah, answered with a potent cloud of disgust and resentment at the thought. Dean wasn't privy to all the information of his superiors' pasts, but he would bet there was a history there. "The sheer number of possible thinkers and tinkers they might have hiding in the shadows is unknown, but the woman definitely isn't one of their public capes... We might need to take the girl into protective custody if the Empire start acting up."
"Of course they're going to act up with Lung in our holding cells, they can't afford not to." The director growled. "Now on top of the impending gang war, Lungs necrotic testis, and the inevitable breakout attempt, we need to prepare for covert operatives of an ultra-nationalist group of parahuman racists... Fuck!"
The cursing was out of character from what Dean had experienced from the woman in the past and so was the accompanying fist that crashed down on the desk. She'd always radiated various shades of frustration, anger, and resentment toward... well, everyone really... but she was usually much more composed when dealing with the Wards. Not that anyone would blame the woman, given that her words were right on the mark. Seeing the opportunity, he cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention. "Ma'am, I could ask Vi- Glory Girl if her family would be willing to keep an eye on the girl for us. I'm sure New Wave would be willing to take her in."
"While I appreciate the sentiment Gallant, New Wave is in no condition to protect her from what amounts to a foreign army. That's leaving aside the matter of her grandfather, whom we only know of through this... Louise's trusting naivety. The brat couldn't even bother with a cape name, the man is as good as dead."
"If I may." Armsmaster spoke up from his corner, "I believe she is using a psuedonym. There are no records of anyone by the name Louise Vallière born within ten years of her apparent age. Leaving aside possible physical alterations of age or pigmentation due to powers, the likely conclusion is that the name she used is her cape name."
Assault chose that moment to look up from doodling on an annoyed Battery's arm. Honestly, Jannet was practically a saint for putting up with the man. "Wow, she sounds like a lot of fun at parties. Seriously, what kind of unimaginative name is 'Louise Valliere'? What's next, a Tinker named Tod?"
It really wasn't an appropriate time for jokes... though Dean could hardly judge him for however chose to cope after Robin's death. Out of all of them, Assault and Dauntless were the only two that Velocity had spent much time with other than the PRT officers. It was too sudden and no body had been found, so it just didn't feel real for the rest of them yet he supposed. Velocity had been sent to investigate a case of breaking and entering after the home owner reported a cape's involvement. No name or description was given other than female, but the apartment exploding in lightning and ice before the whole building burnt down was all the evidence they needed. After all, Lung did just recruit a bomb Tinker.
"Louise de La Vallière, born August sixth, sixteen-sixty-one in Tours, France. Mistress to Louise the fourteenth." Armsmaster stated with a slight tinge of satisfaction. "Not every parahuman is irreverent or juvenile enough to name themself after a crime and pretend to be witty."
"All bite and no bark, Armsman my man, didn't even sting." The roguish hero replied with a grin. The collected females sighed in unison, causing Dean's lips to quirk as he suppressed a smile at how resilient the older man was, but he felt no need to steal their ire from Assault and didn't let it show even with his armor on.
Battery covered her face with her hands and asked, "Can you be serious for a moment? We're talking about a literal Nazi invasion!"
"And?" Assault shrugged. "It's not like we aren't used to Nazis in this town. Besides, there's not much we can do until they make their move other than step up patrols... you know, like we're doing anyways."
Hannah's power flickered, her normally implacable calm yet to return after whatever thoughts had disturbed it earlier. "Kaiser and his gang aren't like the Gesellschaft. Kaiser doesn't abduct and brainwash children, Purity doesn't bomb synagogues, Hookwolf doesn't round up foreigners and execute them in the streets! You aren't taking this serious enough."
"We've got a dragon in the basement, your argument is invalid." The man laughed, to the irritation of all before holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I get it, really... but, what more do you expect? If they attack, they attack. It's up to us to hit them back three times as hard."
Director Piggot had apparently decided that enough was enough, as she said, "I see we won't be getting anywhere with this at the moment. Everyone out, I need to speak with the board of directors about this, maybe we can finally get some assistance for once."
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean bid them all a good night and headed for the Wards section of Headquarters. Thankful that he didn't have another patrol for the night, he walked in to see Chris working on homework and a bored Missy on console duty. Doing his best to ignore his discomfort at the visible effects of her noticing him, he returned her wave and sat down on the couch. The other Wards were either at home or on patrol, so it was just the three of them.
"So, did you learn any secrets in the big meeting?" Chris asked, relieved to have a distraction.
"Not much." He shrugged and slapped at a mosquito that had somehow found its way all the way in there. "That pink haired girl the others saw at the bank is apparently from Belgium, her mom deserves worst mother of the year, and the Nazis hate her guts."
"Think she'll join?" The young Tinker asked, scratching out one of the answers on his paper.
Pretending not to notice the way Vista's emotions flared or the telltale distortion as she tried to be sneaky about listening in, Gallant shook his head. "From what Vicky says, she isn't keen on being a hero, she just wants to take care of her grandfather."
Deflating to let her head rest on the console, Missy gave up all pretense and moaned, "That's dumb, why not? I think it would be awesome to have her on the team."
"You just don't want to be the youngest anymore." Chris teased, likely weirded out by his own suggestion that there could be a younger team member. It wasn't really fair to her since she was the most experienced, but everyone had come to see her as the little sister of the group. It annoyed her whenever anyone even implied her youth. Oh, how he knew it annoyed her. The rants, the threats, the stifling cloud of indignation, forcing herself to drink black coffee and use what other kids her age would consider grown-up words... Dean would prefer to avoid another week of overly thought out sophistication and suppressed gagging, thank you very much.
"No. Well okay, yeah... but I want a non-bitchy girl on the team." She replied, completely ignoring Dean's admonishment over her language. Thankfully she understood that it was a PR rule and didn't go off every time he called her out for cursing. "Besides, she's a healer right? Don't tell me you guys wouldn't love having a healer on call."
While it would be nice to have someone to fix up their wounds, Amy didn't really do requests and wasn't all that helpful to the PRT or Protectorate unless she was already at the scene of the crime, he was sure she could make a bigger difference in the Hospitals. If not for healing people, then for Amy's peace of mind. The girl had been spiraling into depression over her guilt and infatuation with her sister for so long. I really don't want to see the day she snaps... hopefully having a protegee-friend-colleague-person would help.
He shook his head, idly both to scare off the persistent bug and show his denial. "It doesn't matter what we want."
"Well that sucks. What's so important about her grandpa that she needs to take care of him anyways, if he was sick or something she could just heal him and if she joined she'd get paid enough to help him, right?"
"The guy saved her life and brought her to America to escape Nazi brainwashing. I wouldn't doubt if one of their powers had a permanent effect that left the man disabled or comatose... I don't blame her for not trusting a large organization after growing up around the Gesellschaft." Dean explained, causing Missy to choke on her spit.
After catching her breath, she exclaimed, "That's fucked up!"
Not even bothering to correct her, he nodded his agreement. It really, truly was a fucked up situation all around. Deciding to change the subject, he asked, "So how are Stalker and Clockblocker doing out there?"
Vista's aura darkened with anger and he knew the upcoming rant would make him regret asking. "That bitch-" Scratch that, he already regretted it.
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A/N: Finished this a while ago and figured now would be a good time to post it before it was too out of place on the timeline. Inspired by yinko