A New Dawn (Ex-Papergeist) - A Worm/Naruto Crossover

[AlSmash]

This is it for everything I have completed. Enjoy.

Awakening 1.03

In a perfect world, I would be resting right now, getting myself ready for my first day at Arcadia. However, I found to my annoyance that I was unable to sleep due to the anticipation. This was something I thought I had curtailed in recent times , but it seemed that I was mistaken.

So, instead of laying in bed staring at the ceiling, searching for the unattainable, I found myself doing one of the few things I enjoyed anymore: flying.

It was strange, the feeling of weightlessness as I rode the thermals like a bird, soaring over Brockton Bay.

I could readily see why this was relaxing for Konan, letting the currents carry you wherever they may lead. It was therapeutic for someone with the weight of the world on their shoulders.

It was a pity in Konan's world, she could never do this outside of Amegakure, and never without getting soaked in the process. There was just too much of a chance for detection and attack.

Here, however, there were no chakra sensors, nor was the world in a constant state of warfare like hers. It was also the measures I had taken, after remembering something I had read in a tech magazine at the doctor's office. By applying camouflage to myself, I was able to blend into the sky to the point of nearly being invisible to anyone that would look up from the ground, be it during night or day.

So, like Konan, flying had become my escape. And as I flew over the Bay, I allowed myself to marvel once again at the sights that only those with access to a helicopter or the ability to fly could enjoy.

Dad still had misgivings about me going to Arcadia, but after the scene at Winslow, he had kept them to himself. To be fair to him, the choice between Arcadia, with its good standing, and returning to Winslow made for an extraordinarily short debate, it seemed.

So, instead, he had taken me to Arcadia, finalizing my registration, and joining me on a tour of the campus. It was refreshing, if I were honest with myself, to just have something done together with my dad despite the seriousness of the situation. There had been too few times we had ever done it, even with mom. It only became nearly insurmountable after her death, as we both felt her loss in our own way.

I knew it would take time for him to accept at least this part of the new reality. God forbid if he ever found out that I was not only a cape, but had the life and experiences of someone who could be quantified as a terrorist rattling around in my cranium. I shudder to think on how he would take that. But for now, I'd tread carefully.

Banking away from the bay, exhaustion escaping me, I decided to make a detour to the workshop I had put up in the Docks. It was one of the advantages of having a father who worked for the Dockworker's Union, I knew which buildings were suitable for what I wanted. While I would have preferred it to be someplace else, that required more money than I was currently wanting to spend. Not to mention, that fixed fortifications were a monument to human stupidity, both in this world, and in Konan's.

Odds were, in the future, I would follow in the example of Orochimaru: a series of non-centralized bunkers, safehouses and holdouts where I could operate from at any time. It was a fixed situation, but by doing that, I would avoid the vulnerability of having only one base of operations.

But for now, I would be satisfied with this hideout here on the docks, perfectly scouted out, with no one within almost half a kilometer, and with some delicately applied seals, the probability of anyone discovering my hideout diminished to single digit percentages.

So, it was with one more onceover of the surrounding area, that I landed upon the roof of the warehouse that I had set up as my base. While I was satisfied that there was no one around, I was not going to relax my paranoia, as I created a few paper falcons and positioned them to keep watch around the building. That done, I descended into the building.

To be honest, it wasn't much to look at. I made sure that nothing was there that would give away that this was my lair. The main floor served for training for myself, where I would spar with various clones that used the memories of Konan in order to provide me a myriad of threats. While I may not be able to do the jutsu, the combat style was something else, as my endurance and reflexes had increased in leaps and bounds since I pushed my body.

Yet, the main floor was only an appetizer for the crown jewel of all of this. In the storage levels located in the basement, was my workshop.

Konan may not have had any love for fuinjutsu, but I had found that I took to it like a duck to water. There was something about the intense focus and allure of creating new seals that I could use in the field.

My workshop served as that testing ground, providing me with more flexibility beyond Konan's skillset, while not being overly consuming upon my chakra pool like an elemental jutsu. And I could easily put them on my person and deploy them in an instant.

Konan, while she could do what I do, using her paper to write fuinjutsu while within me, just never viewed it as useful. Personally, I blamed this disinterest on Nagato and his bullshit Rinnegan. What was the point of increasing your versatility when you have someone who can level enemies and cities alike with the wave of a hand.

I'm just thankful I didn't manifest any of that, and that there was no one with it either. They may be the eyes of samsara, but that much power, and the arrogance that seems to come with it, would be too much for this already fucked up world.

Discarding those pointless thoughts, I instead focused upon the table that I came before. While around me there were several paper clones working diligently in not only the sealing arts, but seeing what it could do with some of the medicinal knowledge of her world. I doubted I'd ever be able to recreate any of it, but it was better to be sure than sorry.

But the seal before me, not even a hundredth of the way finished, was something that I felt was needed more than anything else, even it was ethically and morally abhorrent. It was incredibly complex, and would likely take me years at the current rate to work on, but it would be my final trump card if anything drastic were to happen.

Right now, it was all theory, and it may never be finished. But it wasn't going to stop me. I was invested in this path, both this seal, and being a hero.

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I blinked as my cell phone alarm went off. I had set an alarm on my phone so I didn't get completely enraptured in my project. It would not do well to be late to Arcadia on my first day.

But still, was it already that time?

Putting down my brush, I glanced over to my phone, discovering that it was indeed four in the morning. I had been working for almost five hours now. Taking the moment to stretch, feeling my muscles and bones creaking, I looked back to my work table.

There was just so much to fuinjutsu that one could spend their entire life trying to master it and would only glance the tip of the iceberg. You could achieve so much with the right application of ink, blood, and symbology. One symbol could mean a thousand different things in the greater context. Jiraiya, Konan's teacher, had once said that while handsigns were the physical expression of chakra, seals were the language, and he wasn't wrong.

I could only hope that I could surpass him.

Tossing those thoughts aside, I considered my next course of action. There was a Merchant drug den a kilometer away that I had been eyeing to raid, but that could lead to complications I'd rather not deal with considering the my current window of time. I could send some clones to break it up, but that was dependent upon it being an easy sweep. I would like the money from there…

It could wait, I decided, the Merchants were rather lazy on their cash security, so waiting until this evening should be fine.

It would just be best for me to head back home, I finally decided. Monotony was the best defense against my father right now. To change my schedule could invite suspicion.

Forming four more paper clones, I then dispelled the four that were in the room, absorbing the paper in me and sorting through the reports written upon their essence.

Hn, that was interesting. I'd have to check it over later to ensure that there were no drawbacks, but that could be quite useful if it worked.

Humming to myself as I reviewed over every detail of it, I reached the roof and took off back into the air, circling around one more time, before setting back for home.

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-Papiergeist-
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"She's gone," that one announcement alleviated more of her headache than Lisa Wilborn had believed possible. Ever since she had caught out of the corner of her eye the arrival of what PHO was calling Angel, she had found herself bombarded with information, some of which she understood, some which she didn't.

What she did know, however, was that it would be unwise to confront the cape, even with Brian with her. Then again, assaulting a capes's lair was generally an unwise decision to begin with, especially with what she was able to glean so far.

"So what do we do," Brian asked, glancing at her.

"Leave her alone, for now," she said, "she might be gone, but the place is a fortress. I don't even understand half of the crap I'm seeing right now. Only that it's dangerous, and it's meant to deter anyone from entering, let alone getting close without being detected."

She closed her eyes, reining in the Thinker headache just a tad bit more. Every data point was telling her to avoid this place like the plague

Still, it would be wise to remember this place, in the event it could be beneficial to use in the future.

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Breakfast had been a simple affair, stemming from the fact that I had wanted to eat light in the first place. A pair of rolled eggs for myself was enough to fuel me until lunch, and was quick enough for me to catch the bus in early to Arcadia.

It was a calculated move, if I were to be honest. I wanted both the time to take a lay of the land, but also finalize whatever else I needed to have done before I could join classes. Of course, I still had the course work to catch up on, but it would not take that long if I were to be honest.

After all, I had the unfair advantage of being able to clone myself and gather the knowledge necessary to do the work. I'd just have to be careful not to tip my hand in any way that would merit suspicion. It wouldn't do good to be careless and get unmasked doing something as simple as homework.

Still, as Konan's experiences had illuminated, if you ain't cheatin', you ain't tryin. And I was going to cheat as much as humanly possible. After all, what I was planning was already a challenge enough to pull off. Cheating was a requirement in and of itself.

That aside, my early arrival was fortuitous, as it allowed me to both get my schedule early, but also gained me one last refresher tour of the school without all of the attention that a busy school would have drawn.

That wasn't to say I wasn't going to stick out like a sore thumb as the 'new girl'. But I was doing my best in order to avoid too much to stand out. Even my clothing was meant to be as non-descript as possible: black jeans, a navy turtleneck, a light jacket, and my hair done back neatly. I knew that I would come off as austere simply based upon my bearing, but I was loathe to have it be anything less. I would have a social life, but it would be one of my choosing.

Closing my locker, I went through a mental exercise, discarding my errant thoughts, as I would need to be absolutely focused from here on out. First impressions were everything for a new kid, and I wanted to have the right balance so Arcadia could be a world apart from what Winslow was.

Then again, my first day had already started out so much better than Winslow had ever been, and I wasn't even to class yet. I had been able to arrange my things in my locker without anyone bothering me. Don't get me wrong, I knew they recognized me as the new girl, but they were giving me space. Something that I could never have had at Winslow. That wasn't to say that they weren't casting a judging eye upon me already, but it was certainly better than being all over me instead.

Gently closing the door, I shouldered my bag, filled with only the essentials for the next two classes, instead of all of my books, and walked. It wasn't that far of a walk, but it allowed one final review of everything.

I was here for an education first and foremost. I wouldn't gain the necessary respect unless I had the background needed for it. For that, I needed an education, and I needed it with honors. There was no way I would have ever achieved that at Winslow, and I would have to cheat in order to attain it here at Arcadia, but it was certainly attainable.

That didn't preclude that I couldn't make friends, but both Konan and myself had rather...unique perspectives on what friends were. In a way, we were not dissimilar, but where my beliefs were forged through betrayal and abandonment, hers was through tragedy.

I would be cautious and leave it at that.

Passing through the open door into the classroom, I strode towards Mr. Fitzgerald. I had only met my AP US History teacher in passing the other day. Though it was only a moment's time, it was safe to say that the man actually seemed to care about his teaching.

"Mr. Fitzgerald," I greeted.

"Miss Hebert," he responded, offering a disarming smile to me, "It's nice to have you join us today."

"I'm glad to be here. Hopefully you won't call me out to answer any questions today."

This time the smile was honest in its amusement, "We'll see about that, Miss Hebert. I like to keep the class on their toes, wouldn't be fair if I exclude you from all the fun."

"Then I'll do my best to impress."

"Why don't you go sit beside Miss Dallon."

Dallon. While I didn't show anything other than turning my head in the direction he motions towards, my mind was running a mile a minute, just before it screeched to a halt as I took in the figure sitting at the desk beside the one that Fitzgerald had indicated.

There was no mistaking the figure sitting at the desk, auburn hair, her eyes half-lidded with bags underneath. You would have to live underneath a rock to not recognize who it was.

Amy Dallon. Panacea.

Fuck.

 

[AlSmash]

This is probably my weakest chapter yet. It also doesn't hurt that this is more filler than anything, as well.

I will admit here that I really suck in familial interactions. It has never been my strength, both because of personal experiences but also simply cuz I don't have really a template to observe, so I think, in some ways, this may be the best I can do to describe the level of dysfunction that I feel exists between Taylor and Danny.
If I'm wrong, please, don't be afraid to tell me.

Going forward, I really don't know my timetable, as I am now officially the general manager of my store, which means at minimum I'm working 50 hours a week in making sure my store runs on all fronts. Nice pay raise, just a lot more stress and time consumed. So I apologize in advice if it seems that the story is silent for awhile, I just don't have the time to invest in it, especially with other stories also languishing because of my lack of a life.

Awakening 1.04

Catching a flying overhead kick, I was just able to push it back in time to dodge my head to avoid a tossed kunai that whizzed by me. Dropping to a low position, I swept low and away, even as I threw my own kunai in return using the momentum of my body to propel it.

It was then I broke apart into paper, rapidly reforming away from a suiton jutsu that impacted where I had just been. With a quick jerk of the arm I created another kunai just in time to block a katana that would have bisected me, even as I tracked my attackers, some of them wearing my face.

All the while a paper clone of Konan watched me.

This was the sort of intense training that I put myself through at least three times a week once I had the opportunity. You could have all the power in the world, but if you could not hone it to a fine edge then it was wasted power. And chakra was like a muscle, if it wasn't worked then it would fail me when I needed it the most.

That was why when I wasn't working on other projects or out in the field, I was working myself to the bone in improving my chakra, but also honing my skills further.

With a thought, I dismissed my paper clones, watching as they disintegrated into paper before being reabsorbed into myself.

Catching a towel tossed by the Konan clone, I proceeded to dab my brow of the sweat that had gathered as I organized the fight for review, but also reflected upon my first day at Arcadia.

It had been...interesting, to say the least. Intellectually, of course, I had known that New Wave attended Arcadia. It was common knowledge. I just hadn't expected for my first class to be with Panacea of all people. Of course, it wasn't like we had interacted at all, either. But that didn't mean I didn't spend my time observing her either. Surreptitiously, of course.

The jury was still out on my read of her though. There was something about her that not only bothered me, but niggled at something from Konan's memories. It was something I would have to investigate further when I had the opportunity to do so.

Probably Tuesday, I mused, refocusing my attention upon the paper clone of Konan. It was a trick I was still perfecting, but it was proving to be worth its weight in gold for what it could offer. With the memories of Konan, I could at least create a facsimile of her that could help me in things like training, improving on what I may not be able to see simply by skimming her memories.

It did have its limits, of course, it could not perfectly replicate her, as hard as I tried. There was also the fact that when I did do it, I somehow felt...incomplete. It was difficult to explain as to why it seemed that way, but I knew, instinctively, that I was splitting a part of myself in the process.

But that was also for later analysis. There was just too much to do and too little time in which to do it. This was especially so now with the news breaking on PHO of my capture of Hookwolf. I hadn't expected the reaction that resulted there, considering it was the usual modus operandi for the Protectorate to downplay or deny any sort of rogue cape involvement in the prevention of a crime.

The more cynical part of me (re: Konan) couldn't help but note the coincidence that in the very same thread that announced my apprehension of Hookwolf, a post declaring that the Empire 88 was putting a bounty for information on me just happened to be posted for almost twenty minutes before it was finally taken down.

I would write it off to a sudden case of incompetency if the mere fact that this would, in the long run, benefit the Protectorate either by having the Empire 88 do the leg work for them, or they figured the threat and pressure from them would cause me to flock to them for protection.

It was subtle, yes, but to Konan, it was about as subtle as a bijuu in a hidden village. The mere image caused me to snort as I decided to table that concern. I wished the Nazis and Protectorate luck in finding someone who simply did not exist.

That simply left my father…

Sighing, I tossed my towel into the laundry basket, before stripping out of my workout clothes. With only a moment's hesitation, I stepped into the shower and turned it on, letting the water drive away the accumulated sweat and grime from my workout.

Tonight was going to be rather finicky. It wasn't the meal that necessarily worried me, that was relatively easy to handle. No, the problem laid within both the conversations that were likely to take place and the presentation of 'Jiraiya'.

Even in death, Jiraiya was an extremely delicate subject for Konan. He had been her first, and only, sensei, teaching her the necessary skills to survive in the brutally cutthroat world of Shinobi. He had also been responsible for directing Yahiko on that path that would eventually lead to the creation of the Akatsuki, a path that would end in his death and the subjornment of his dream into the monstrosity that was Madara's Akatsuki.

Oh yes, Konan had a lot of bitter feelings in regards to Jiraiya that tempered the good. It had only been further enhanced when he had tried to stop them. Konan had been incensed when the man who had been responsible for setting them on their damned quixotic quest had the temerity to tell them they were wrong.

And yet...despite all of that. Konan still retained a semblance of...I don't know, warmth? The emotions and feelings were too complicated to even explain, yet those feelings were the ones that allowed Konan, along with Nagato's request, to decide to believe in Naruto Uzumaki, yet another one of the 'disciples' (and I use that term sparingly) of Jiraiya's beliefs in ending the cycle of hatred that existed in the Shinobi World.

Honestly, my opinion was more in line with Konan's in regards to that matter, though Konan's experienced only cemented mine. It was an idealistic notion, yes, and maybe it was achievable, but it would require such a dramatic shift in the human condition that it would need those who would support that bridge.

But that was neither here nor there, the fact of the matter was that I needed to ensure that Jiraiya made the right splash, while at the same time honoring the man.

Sighing, I shut off the shower, just letting gravity slowly claim the water upon me as I considered just how I was going to achieve that.

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Danny Hebert has failed as a parent. There existed single no argument that could deny that fact. When his daughter had depended upon him, had needed him, he hadn't been there for her, choosing instead to remain so lost in his own thoughts and troubles that she had paid the price for his willful ignorance. Just that fact would haunt him to the end of his days.

So when Taylor had told him about Jiraiya, that atrophied sense of fatherly protectiveness that had been revived from its ignorance had immediately taken notice. While he had failed his daughter on Emma and Winslow without any means of making it right thanks to her own industriousness, he wasn't keen to fail her again.

It was only the fact that he had failed her previously that had stayed his hand from taking a more extreme action against this Jiraiya, instead insisting to meet the man so that he could at least get a read of the man before he decided to take any action.

He had honestly expected this Jiraiya to be the stuff of any father's nightmares for their teenage girl, an older man slowly worming his way into taking advantage of a young, directionless teenage girl with no friends and enemies on all sides.

What he hadn't expected was a man who was the exact opposite of every expectation. In fact, if there was a word or phrase to describe the man sitting across from him, laughing raucously at a story that his daughter had just shared, it would be larger than life. He could easily see why Taylor had spoken glowingly about Jiraiya, he had only known the man for a half an hour now, and he found himself actually liking the guy.

But he still had his duty as a father, even if he had dropped the ball in the past.

"So Jiraiya," he finally decided to speak up, "Taylor tells me that you are opening a bookstore."

"I am," the white-haired man replied, smile never leaving his face as he settled into his chair across the table from him.

"And what made you want to do that?"

The 'Why in Brockton Bay' was, of course, left unasked, but was implied nonetheless. It was something he was curious about, to be perfectly honest. Not many people would willingly move into Brockton Bay, especially after the collapse of the maritime trade. And those that did generally could be lumped into a handful of camps, almost none of them positive. That wasn't to say that he suspected Jiraiya was involved in anything underhanded, it just was something that nagged at him, and maybe it was a way to protect Taylor.

However, if he had expected it to put Jiraiya on his back foot, he found himself mistaken as Jiraiya nodded his head in, he didn't want to say, acknowledgment, but it seemed to be just that.

'It seems kind of silly, when you think about it," Jiraiya started with a chuckle, "but I've always had a fondness for books. They can be anything. A font of knowledge. An escape. They can even provide inspiration in their pages. I've always wanted to have my own bookstore so I could share that love with others."

"As for why the Bay? It reminds me of home," the man then laughed as Danny couldn't help but give him an incredulous look, "I'm actually a lot older than I look Mr. Hebert. I also was a lot more hotheaded in my youth, and got myself involved with the wrong crowd for a time. I've left that life behind, thanks to an old man who knocked some sense me, but there are times when I find myself nostalgic for that excitement. Mind you, it's a bit different now and here, but still," he offered a shrug, "I'm not exactly complaining and maybe I can be like the old man for some of the young troublemakers around here."

Honestly, he had expected Jiraiya to provide some sort of story to present himself in some sort of glowing terms. What he hadn't expected was any sort of transparency! Yes, there might be a danger to his daughter, if the man was keen to be like this 'old man' he referred to, but it was Brockton Bay, no one was actually really safe when you got down to the brass tacks of it all.

But still, he was left with quite a bit to stew on, somewhat annoyed that there wasn't really anything there in that statement that would provide an ah-ha! Moment that would let him protect Taylor. He could just take the fatherly stance and just deny her working there, but that would only alienate her, and he honestly didn't want to have it go back to what it was, especially after Emma.

"And why all of this effort on my daughter," he blurted out, his annoyance providing the fuel to bypass the filter that was his mouth.

"Dad!"

"It's fine, Taylor. If I were in his shoes, I'd be asking the same.," Jiraiya intervened in whatever his daughter was going to say, adding to his irritation, he then leaned back in his chair, arms crossing, "To answer your question, Mr. Hebert, it's because your daughter helped a man she didn't even know find his way around a town he had just come to despite her own troubles. A lot of people would have just ignored me and went on their way, but your daughter didn't. I felt compelled to repay her kindness. An earnest ear. A job offer. Those were things I could offer easily, but it's Taylor choice what she wanted to do with it.. I'm just glad that I've made a little difference in her life."

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It was only a half an hour later that 'Jiraiya' had left, leaving me with my father as I cleaned up. After the confrontation that my father had evoked, and 'Jiraiya's' answers, he had become silent and contemplative. While I remained near the point of nervous breakdown.

There was always a degree of freedom to clones and their actions, though it was reserved via the baseline behavioral model of their creator. And while my clone was still me, with some input and decided upon tweaks to Konan's memories of Jiraiya, the exchange and story that had been given by Jiraiya had not been what I had planned on being the backstory of him. Was this a case of merely poor programming in the role of the clone, an aberration of behavior, or was this something else. It honestly bothered I, because while I had Konan's memories and experiences, I was still myself.

Right?

I mentally shook my head, discarding those deep thoughts for now and filing them away for when I wasn't keeping a careful watch upon my father, hoping that despite what had happened at dinner, he wouldn't be an impediment to me. It was doable if he was, it just would be one less thing I would have to juggle in the process if he did become one.

It was just as I was finishing putting the last plate away that he finally spoke.

"I'm not sure I really approve of him, Taylor."

Biting back a sigh, I turned back to him. I had a gut feeling that even if everything had gone perfectly, this would still be the discussion we would be having because my father had suddenly found the will to be an actual parent again.

"I know what you mean, dad," I had to say, keeping my impatience from being evident in my tone, "but it's a new chance, if it wasn't for the job he offered, I wouldn't have the opportunity to even go to Arcadia, to even think I had it as an option anymore."

It was his turn to sigh, as he rubbed his face in his hands, obviously not liking my response, probably because it placed him even further in the corner. It was sad to see, once upon a time, my father had been a decisive man, not one to deliberate over things to the point that it froze him. But after Mother had died—

"I just worry about you Taylor," he finally admitted, "I know I mentioned it earlier, but an older man helping a teenage girl. I just don't want you to be hurt."

Too late for that, Dad, you are far too late, I thought bitterly, but kept my face impassive.

"When does the store open?"

"Next week."

Again a sigh, obviously this was still too much for him. Arcadia was difficult, but now a job with a man who had been interested in me, yeah, I could understand to a degree why my father would be so hesitant, especially at my age.

"Alright," he finally said, a hint of bitterness in his tone, "but I want for us to sit down every week and just talk. If you ever think there's something wrong, please, Taylor, talk to me. I may seem like I don't care at times, but I do, I just—"

"I know," offering a wan smile to him, Mother had been the glue for the family, the life and verve, without it, we might as well be housemates, "you'll be the first to know."

You won't.

 

[AlSmash]

Hey, it's been a bit. So, good news and bad news. The good news being that here's another chapter, the bad news is once again I'm reinforcing the fact that I pretty much rarely have any time to write, so updates are still going to be sporadic. I will say my promotion is rewarding monetarily, but for fuck's sake, the urge to just go full Trogdor on my employees is rising.

I will admit, that this chapter happened because of how another Worm fanfiction that I had been reading basically screwed the pooch and irritated me enough to actually want to write this, despite me being knee deep in other neglected projects.

Anyways, I spent a good few days just dwelling on Danny, the character. And while I'm not sure if I hit all the right buttons for him. I think I did a pretty good job in at least providing a rationale to why he is what he is. He loves Taylor, there's no doubt about that in Worm, considering despite the terrible shit she did, he still supported her. But there's a stark difference between being put on the spot and making a quick decision, and finding the raison d'etre to keep that love visibly supportive, and with Annette's death took him out at the knees. So yeah, I hope I did well enough for you guys.

Also, I will admit, that while I wrote this, I was listening to Fate/Stay Night: Heaven's Feel II: Lost Butterly OST. If you haven't watched the movie, I suggest you do, it's damn good. But more than anything, if you want what I would argue is one of Yuki Kajiura's best soundtracks in quite some time, then I suggest you take a gander and listen to it, because it just captures the emotions of both the scenes it's played on, but hell, even if you don't know the context of the scenes, you can make up your own story to fit the emotions in the music.

Alright, rant over, onward with the story. We'll be returning back to Taylor and what's going on in the next chapter, and honestly, I hope what I have percolating will be enough to keep you all entertained. I only see maybe about 5 or 6 more chapters to this entire arc, and then things will start taking off. I don't really intend for another interlude except maybe at the end of the arc, so make that I guess maybe 7?

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Interlude 1.y Danny

For the last three years of his life, work at the Dockworker's Association had been a sort of escape for Danny Hebert. The opportunity to escape from the realities of an empty, broken household. An escape from the fact that with the death of his wife three years ago, he had lost the most important part of himself.

That wasn't to say that Taylor was not important to him, but it was a far cry from what Annette Hebert had meant to him. It just wasn't enough, and as a result, their relationship over the last three years had degraded to the point that outside of a few shared meals together a week, they might as well be two strangers in the same household.

The Association had been the one constant remaining in his life. It was both an income, but it was the escape in which he could keep a sense of constancy that was lost the second he stepped into his home. And as the job became harder as contracts dried up, and the Union sought to diversify its portfolio in order to function, he had buried himself deeper into the work, letting it allow him to pretend something that honestly wasn't.

It was both a curse, and a blessing. Because it allowed him to retain his sanity, despite everything. Yet at the same time, it came at the cost of his daughter, an innocent victim in all of his weakness, self-feeding guilt, and inability to move on.

And now, he may have just lost the opportunity to fix it with her.

Even now, four days later, he was still angry at Jiraiya for stealing from him something that should have been what he had been doing. It should have been him that was helping Taylor. It should have been him that his daughter turned to (and if he were to be honest, there were plenty of times she could have turned to him, but his inability to provide her that safe harbor to believe she could turn to him had led to this failure), not this random person she had met off the street.

So he did what he always did, he buried himself further into his work, the guilt eating at him further, even as he reviewed an upcoming contract, making notes on salient points in maybe improving the plight of their situation. All the while his guilt and frustrations served to dutifully remind him of his own failures with his daughter.

He was still doing this as lunchtime came and passed, the only interruption being when his office door swung open, and Kurt stepped in. At first, Danny didn't even notice him, instead lost in his own thoughts that it wasn't until Kurt cleared his throat that Danny realized that he was no longer alone.

"Oh. Sorry Kurt," Danny began, placing down his pen and rubbing his wrist, "didn't see you come in. What's up?"

A sandwich was placed upon his desk, and Danny found his eyes glancing to the clock to check that, yes, he had missed lunch, causing him to sigh as he took the sandwich and unwrapped it.

"Trouble with Taylor," Kurt asked, as Danny took a bite of the sandwich.

"You could say that," Danny admitted, catching Kurt's expression before sighing again, placing the sandwich down and considered what to say. While Kurt was a friend, it was a friendship cultivated in the workplace, not the sort that personal issues would necessarily be discussed with.

Kurt seemed to sense that he wasn't going to get anything more. Then again, it wasn't necessarily a surprise. Danny had never been the best at expressing himself, not since Annette had passed. So, instead he resorted to a different tactic to take his friend's mind off his current issues.

"You hear about the excitement over the weekend at the docks?"

"Not really," Danny grunted, before taking a bit from the sandwich, satisfied at least that he wasn't going to have to discuss his daughter with Kurt. Especially when he was still grappling with it himself.

"Looks like our resident angel struck again."

"Oh?"

While it wasn't something he was actively paying attention to, one would have to work under a rock at the Dockworker's Association not to know about the actions of the woman they were now calling Tenshi thanks to PHO. In the last two weeks, she had been increasingly hammering the Merchants, outside of the one incident with the Empire 88 (who, in her defense, was using the docks for an arms deal), driving them out of their drug dens and cleaning up the docks, and in one case, helping a member of the Association that got jumped. She had become so successful, that there were a few that he knew in passing were part of a small, but growing, fan club for the cape.

Privately, Danny was rather ambivalent to the cape. While he did approve of the woman's attempts at cleaning up the docks, because it benefited the Dockworker's Association, it was tempered by the fact that he was leery about the motivations of this Tenshi. While he was not racist in any shape, he couldn't help but note that Tenshi was obviously Asian, using a Japanese-themed cape name, and while she had hit the ABB a few times, seemed to be focus an inordinate amount of her attention upon drug dealers and Empire 88. Furthermore, he had heard that Tenshi was also interested in the fiduciary benefits of being a cape, namely in appropriating the money of the criminals.

No, he was right to be leery of the cape, as should anyone else. There were just too many unknowns involved in this cape, even if they were doing good for the Docks.

Obviously though, that wasn't what Kurt wanted to discuss, as it was evident that it seemed that there had been more activity over the weekend.

"Yeah, I don't have all the details, but I guess she was busy over the weekend. You remember that drug den over at the old Consolidated Steel building?"

"Yeah," the Consolidated Steel building was over in the southeast quadrant of the Docks, when the shipping industry collapsed, Consolidated hadn't been far behind it, as they had been heavily invested in the shipbuilding industry. After that, it had been abandoned for a few years before it became one of the dozens of drug dens that had become commonplace in the Docks.

"Yeah, I don't think we're going to have to worry about it anymore. Last night she hit it and I mean hit it hard. According to PHO, the police and PRT are both still cleaning the place up, and there were something like thirty arrests. But get this, while this was happening, she was also busy taking out another two places in the Docks."

This caused him to raise an eyebrow. Now, while he wasn't exactly a cape enthusiast, he wasn't ignorant of the cape scene considering his daughter's interest in it. So a cape that seemed to be able to be in multiple places at once was, while not unbelievable, seemed strange for a cape to have as an ability on top of what had already been reported. There were a handful of exceptions to this, with the most obvious case being Eidolon, still, it seemed strange to him.

"Well, that's good," he finally said, "I don't know how many times I've heard complaints about having something done about the Consolidated building. Do we know anything more?"

"Nope, but we got some video on PHO this time. Gotta say, I kinda feel bad for the druggies that were there, the lady was not exactly gentle. Still was interesting to watch regardless. Don't know how many times I wanted to go in there and clean it up whenever we caught one of those guys trying to peddle that shit or trying to steal something."

Danny found himself humming in agreement. That had been an ongoing problem for the Dockworker's Association, so it was nice that there may be a bit of relief upon the horizon. Still didn't take away from the fact that they were beholden in their gratefulness to someone like Tenshi.

Still, he had to wonder what Taylor would say about Tenshi. Despite his own misgivings, the cape had been doing some good for Brockton bay, even if the rationale behind it may not exactly be that of a saint. It'd be interesting to talk to Taylor about that the next time he got an opportunity, at least it would provide them an opportunity to talk about something instead of having a series of uncomfortable exchanges between the two of them.

"Anyways,," Kurt spoke up again, "just figured I'd pop in and give you the nitty gritty. Lacey'll probably strangle me if I don't get back to work. We good for Wednesday night?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Taylor won't be able to, she has to work."

"Ahh," Kurt nodded knowingly, obviously thinking he had figured out what was bothering him, "well, she's getting to that age to wanting to spread her wings. Where's she working at?"

"Bookstore that's going in on the Boardwalk."

"Oh, you mean Daybreak."

"Daybreak?"

Kurt offered a shrug, "Short for Daybreak Books. Strange choice for a book store name, but it makes sense with the artwork they have for their logo. A sun above broken clouds. Lacey wants to check it out when they open."

Danny didn't respond to that, instead finding himself once again reminded about the current source of his ongoing issues. Well, at least a significant portion. Kurt must have read it in his expression, taking that as his cue to leave, getting up and closing the door behind him as he left Danny's office, worried for his friend but knowing that trying to intervene would only make it worse.

Is this what I really want, Danny thought to himself, the door closing behind Kurt serving as the instigator for that one dominating thought. Did he really want to lose his daughter to a man he had only met once? Because it was more than likely if he kept going like this, unable to reach out to his daughter and connect with her.

A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his chair, staring into the drag office lighting, hands finding their way to the top of his head.

He had failed her. There was no debating that simple fact. He had suspected for quite some time that something was wrong with Taylor. All of the indicators were there. How she seemed to become increasingly withdrawn past the point of how she had been when—Annete died. How she always tried to not talk about school. He had just been too damn focused on his own problems that Taylor had paid the price.

What would Annette think of him, came the sobering thought that robbed him of breath. Yet, as he dwelt upon it, it provided its own galvanizing element. Because the thought that Annette would be disappointed in him was something he could not bear.

The thoughts and worries that had been plaguing him for the last four days crystallizing into singular realization. He needed to be better. No excuses. He wasn't going to lose the last piece of the woman that he had loved more than anything. He had to be better for both Taylor and himself, because he couldn't bear to think of facing Annette like this.

It was with this in mind, that he picked his phone, dialing a quick extension into it, and waiting for the other person on the line to pick up.

"Matt, it's Danny. Hey, I'm going to take the afternoon off—No, it's nothing serious. I just need to take care of a few things.—Yeah, I know, I'll have it done by tomorrow.—Alright, thanks Matt. I'll catch you tomorrow."

With that, he placed the phone back in its cradle and got up, going over to grab his jacket.

If he was going to make the change, he might as well start today.

 

[AlSmash]

Alive I am, happy with this work I am not. But progress is progress, even if I got plans for the next chapter which will start starting thinks off. I'm stepping down as manager of my store for health reasons, so I will likely have more time to update my works.

Awakening 1.05

The sound of shrieking metal filling the air as it was ripped and torn was like catharsis for my soul at the moment as I recalled the paper I had already used back to me, watching as it perforated that which had sought to contain it. Even more paper began to flake off me to join the remnants, floating to over my shoulder as it molded itself together, coalescing itself into a javelin. With a snarl, I launched it, watching as it punched through the rusted hull like it was paper itself.

The last two days had been a cruel mix of increasing trepidation and mounting frustration. The first being my decision to launch a simultaneous assault on multiple targets that I had identified in the Docks. While this would reveal an ability that I had wanted to keep closer to my chest, something that Konan would have done, the issue was that the Jiraiya 'incident' had rattled me.

No, if I were to be honest, it had resurrected an issue that had been niggling at the back of my mind since my encounter with Armsmaster. There were now two different aberrations in the designed behavior of my clones. The first time I had ignored it because clones were a facsimile of their creator with some brevity to make their own choices within a preset paradigm. Giving a bit of sass was possible within what I had done, but it didn't fit the situation.

The overarching issue is that they were making the wrong choices that were completely counterintuitive and created increased risk factors. Something Konan loathed and I feared, especially at this juncture, where one mistake could have far-reaching consequences.

That was why I had made the hard decision and had found that my fears were not only well-founded. They were a reality.

While they weren't as dramatic, or as noticeable as the two previous incidents, the data provided from the operation had been conclusive. For some reason, my paper clones were showing aberrant behavior that did not fit either Konan or my own personality. Something that should not be possible as far as Konan knew, which was damning since she had created the jutsu.

Then again, Konan hadn't been burdened with the memories and personality of another. Suffice to say, I was in uncharted territory and I did not like it one bit.

Releasing a sigh, I recalled the paper again, letting it mold itself again into a javelin, before launching it at a much higher velocity than before, the report of steel giving was a balm for my simmering anger.

Because it wasn't just my clones that were creating a problem, oh no, that would be too easy. No, now my father was suddenly showing an interest in my well-being. Once upon a time I would have been overjoyed by this, but now it was merely an annoyance that was more inconvenience than heart-warming. I needed my freedom if I was going to be successful as a hero and to solve this glaring weakness.

It was….vexing.

Releasing another sigh, knowing that if I tarried much longer here I'd attract undue attention that I frankly did not care to deal with at this moment, I recalled the paper once more. Breaking more paper off from myself, I could feel the drain as it combined to form a paper clone. Allowing myself to slump a little bit, as the drain from what I just did and what I had been doing caught up with me. Then again, what I had just done was much more than simply creating a paper clone.

With a nod, the clone turned and walked towards the bay as I caught my breath. I still wasn't strong enough, I thought bitterly. But I was getting better. Where a week ago I would have been gasping for breath, now it was just a mild winding.

It still wasn't enough though, while careful planning and well-prepared contingencies were great force multipliers, strength and skill, with a modicum of luck, were the ultimate determinants on the success of any operation. If I didn't have the ability to fulfill my objectives then I might as well not try at all.

I had to become stronger, there was no other way around it all. Might controls everything was an adage that was true both in this world and Konan's, and without the necessary strength I could not impose the changes I wanted upon the world.

That meant I had to push the envelope, surpass it, and keep on going. It was probably the one definable strength I had that no one else did, at least upon my cursory research. I had the ability to both quantitatively and qualitatively strengthen my skills with training, almost no other cape had that ability, not even the Triumvirate.

My head perked up at the sound of a motorcycle approaching in the distance.

It seemed my time was up, I thought as I spread my wings and took to the sky, taking the time to blend my profile in with the night sky before I head off towards home. Armsmaster never noticing my exit.

AND​

Slamming my locker door closed, I took the time to review my morning before I would be drawn inexorably into the mundane again. Not that the mundane wasn't nice, but when time was finite, it started to become an issue when it impacted what I was trying to do. Frankly, I had half a mind to just drop out of school, but I knew it honestly wouldn't be worth the hassle that would develop from it.

Maybe it would be a more wise decision to use paper clones for schooling. Relatively speaking, it would be no different than what I was already currently doing for the book store. Well, to an extent, considering that the book store had a lower probability of me being discovered compared to a school that not only had New Wave in it, but likely had a large proportion if not all of the Wards here.

It all came down to cost-benefit, I mused bitterly, hefting my textbook for the trip to AP US History. Was it worth the cost in increasing the possibility of discovery in order to increase my abilities? Part of me said yes, but the other part of me…

I sighed, shaking my head as I stepped into classroom and set for my seat, casting only a cursory glance at Panacea who currently had her head down in her arms, obviously using the time before class to rest. Again, I was struck by a familiarity I could not put my finger on, something from Konan's past, something important..

"Alright class," Mr. Fitzgerald began, and I only paid him half attention as I watched Panacea out of the corner of my eye, trying to figure out exactly what it was that was causing alarms to go off in my head.

"Miss Hebert," I brought my focus back solely upon Mr. Fitzgerald, "you'll be teamed up with Miss Dallon."

What, I thought, reviewing exactly what it was he had said leading up to assigning us whatever it was, even as I noted Amy was casting me a sidelong glance to size me up. Probably judging if I was going to be of any use for whatever it was that Mr. Fitzgerald had assigned us.

I resisted frowning at the project, a paper exploring the impact upon law enforcement since the advent of parahumans and the creation of the Protectorate.

Glancing at Amy even as Mr. Fitzgerald continued handing out assignments, I could only think that something, somewhere, must truly hate me.

 

[AlSmash]

Yeah, yet another chapter I'm not happy with that I simply pushed out because I was tired of it sitting in my google docs collecting dust and me pecking at it at 1 or 2 in the morning. Hopefully I can get into the things as soon as my job stabilizes, because, hooray, I'm no longer doing 60-90 hours a week. I'm just getting dragged into things like my friends want to do things that I'm not exactly keen to do because I want to write and my workplace is hemorrhaging employees because the company was stupid enough to go into Chapter 11 Bankruptcy which means I have to cover those hours, yay.

Anyways, here's hoping y'all don't have to wait another three months before I post something.

As a further aside, I'd kill for a beta, or just someone to bounce ideas off on this. I seem to do better when I have someone to discuss what I want to do, and they can either tell me it's a good idea, or tell me to put my head back to the grindstone.



Awakening 1.06

In the two class periods, and accompanying two hours of joint study time, there was one unequivocal fact that Amy Dallon could readily admit.

She did not like Taylor Hebert.

If she were honest with herself, her enmity of the brunette wasn't out of personal feelings. Her classmate had been respectful, polite even. If anything, this entire interaction felt nauseatingly business-like in how it was being approached.

At least until it came to the core reason of her dislike for the other woman was Taylor's insistence that the advent of parahumans and the subsequent creation of the Protectorate had left a lasting negative impact upon law enforcement, and the fact that from every data point she had so far provided would support this observation.

And there was a darker part to Amy, the one that had to patch up those harmed by parahumans, either personally or as collateral during the scrums between heroes and villains, that actually found herself agreeing.

Nonetheless, she really didn't want to be here, she lamented as she viciously struck down that dark thought. Resisting the urge to massage her temple at the growing headache, she only paid half a mind to her classmate as she droned on about crime statistics of several major cities as she mentally reviewed their discussion. How the girl knew all of this, or even took the time to research this made Amy idly wonder if Taylor Hebert wasn't actually a cape groupie. If it wasn't for the fact that the girl had been strictly professional and hadn't shown any sort of worship she would have been a shoo-in in her estimation.

Also a point against the fact was how Hebert didn't seem to hold any of the heroes in a good light, at least with the way she was presenting herself. It made Amy wonder exactly what it was that would cause her to carry such antipathy. But that wasn't exactly her concern.

What she wanted right now was for Taylor to just shut up and agree to at least write a goddamn paper that wouldn't get them excoriated by Mr. Fitzgerald (And Carol for that matter, she mentally shuddered at the idea of adoptive mother even catching a whiff of the subject matter they were discussing). Well, that and get the hell as far away from this girl as possible for the foreseeable future.

"Look," she finally spoke, wincing at the irritation that she was damn sure Taylor was noticing, "you may have a point, Taylor, if the data you are sharing is correct. However, that doesn't write our paper, and if we write what you want to write, then Mister Fitzgerald is not going to take kindly to the stance you want to take for this paper."

"He's a cape groupie," the flat, toneless response delivered with nary a flicker of expression was almost enough to make her shiver. Because it wasn't angry, it was simply matter-of-fact.

"No, he just has a younger brother in the PRT," she clarified, but before she could say anymore, Taylor seemed to stiffen, her expression turning thunderous as she got to her feet and began packing her stuff, "Taylor?"

"I'm sorry, but something has come up. How about we meet tomorrow and I'll have something put together that'll satisfy the project, or you can do whatever."

"What," Amy stammered, confused at what was going on, "I don't. What…"

"I'll see you at class tomorrow," Taylor hurriedly finished, closing her bag and hoisting it onto her shoulder.

"Wait a minute," Amy demanded, grabbing Taylor's wrist as the brunette walked by and promptly froze.

It was well-known what her powers were, the ability to heal the sick and wounded. However there were facets that were not as well known, well, at least ones that she didn't like sharing considering the ramifications if they were known. One of those was the fact that her was well and truly never 'off'.

While she could ignore the information that was provided if she accidentally brushed against someone and made skin-to-skin contact. In this case, however, her own power wouldn't let her.

What...what the fuck, she thought in a panic, even as her power logged everything it was encountering.

Primary, secondary, and tertiary circulatory networks. Unknown bioelectric energy being channeled in secondary and tertiary circulatory networks, interconnecting with primary circulatory network in critical sections. Secondary and tertiary networks interfacing with the nervous system, brain, organs, bones, and musculature. No corona pollentia. No, corona pollentia absorbed into secondary network.

Any further analysis was stopped as the arm was ripped away from her and she found green eyes boring into her, almost challenging her to say something.

However, when Amy didn't rise to the challenge, still coming to grips with what she had stumbled across, Taylor spun around and stalked away.

AND​

I knew I was making a mistake as I stormed away from Amy Dallon, but I was too pissed off to think clearly at the ramifications of what I suspected had just taken place. No, pissed off would be too polite of a sentiment for what I currently felt. Anyone could be pissed off, it was such a simple thing to be.

No, I was absolutely livid.

Why? Because one of the paper clones I had assigned to surveilling the PRT Headquarters in order to ensure when they shipped Hookwolf out, I would be there to assist if the Empire 88 chose to intervene, had once again witnessed Sophia Hess enter the building. This wasn't the second time, either, it was the fourth time since I had begun maintaining surveillance on the building.

I had been willing to write all of this off as coincidence. Maybe a family member worked there, or something. In fact, three times she had left, seemingly irritated by something. It had actually been a source of amusement for my clones and myself.

However, that changed this fourth time, as not an hour after she had entered the building, Shadow Stalker had left with Kid Win on patrol.

When my clone witnessed the events, everything just clicked, it made a sickeningly horrifying sense, after all. I didn't want to accept it, but everything fit so perfectly I would have to be deluding myself, especially as I put it together with my clone watching and comparing Sophia and Shadow Stalker.

Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker.

It explained almost everything. How they could get into my locker, why the administration showed complete and utter disinterest in my plight. It wasn't just Emma and her connections, which while they helped, were only part of it.

It was Sophia fucking Hess. A goddamn Ward of all things.

If I wasn't so goddamn furious right now, I would be laughing hysterically at the irony of it all.

Because this instance, right here, was why the very imprint of Konan upon my memories despised the Protectorate. They may talk this big game of maintaining law and order, and being there for the common man against the threat of parahumans, but they were nothing more than another on a long list of hypocritical and abusive organizations that flaunted their power and tread those who didn't have power underneath their boot.

After all, what was the worth of one unpowered human compared to that of a hero.

Hero, I couldn't help but chuckle, such a cheap word whored out so easily.

It made me sick.

 

[AlSmash]

Look at this, another update so quickly. I don't exactly know what came over me, but I decided to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak.

To those of you who offered to be a Beta, thank you. But honestly, I couldn't in good conscience choose one of you over the other, because I would feel guilty at the unfairness it would be. I'm sorry that I asked it of any of you, but it's too late to cry over spilt milk, so I'll just say thank you.

So, I'll be honest here, I have a somewhat different read of Amy than the Canon, but part of that came from a reddit post I read a while ago that took the time to look at her character. Maybe I'm overcomplicating her, it is a trend of mine. And while I may muck it up somewhat here, what I do have kinda is going to serve for me to work on her here. But we'll see.

Anyways, here is the next chapter, hope you all enjoy it.



Awakening 1.z Amy

"May I have your permission to heal you?"

It was a testament to her distracted thinking that she barely paid any attention to the response. Then again, the answer in the affirmative was a foregone conclusion, as the hospital administration never put anyone who didn't want her services.

Still, that didn't take away from the fact that she was not even paying half a mind to the process working to repair the kidney damage that her power went through as it healed the patient. No, her mind was firmly upon the events earlier in the evening.

And the moral and intellectual quandary that was Taylor Hebert.

It had been an accident, she would swear until her dying breath. She had absolutely no intention to grab Taylor, but the girl had suddenly acted so out of character and she hadn't been thinking about the invasion of privacy that was a defining trait of her power.

But it had happened and there was no going back. And honestly, a darker, more selfish part of her was unashamed of what she did because what she had seen had been so fascinating.

In the two years since she had gained her powers, she had been exposed to a literal medical encyclopedia on the human condition. The list was extravagant on differences between each and every of her fellow man, from the minor to the major.

But what had been truly different had always been the various parahumans she healed. The effect being a parahuman had upon the body. It had always been a source of interest to see the biological changes that had been done once a parahumans power had been gained, to the point it was almost voyeuristic for her own power.

So when her power encountered Taylor, catalogued and analyzed what it was in contact with. It was...unsettling, to say the least. She had healed so many different parahumans, but they all ran some sort of common element between them based upon their rating.

What she had seen on Taylor, it was new, and to her power, exciting. It was different than anything she had seen from any parahuman before. Because not once, in her life, had she encountered a case where the corona pollentia had been subsumed into something else. The corona pollentia always stood alone, no matter the powers that developed after a parahuman triggered. It was even well-documented that this was the case.

So to encounter something like this, something so inordinately unique. Her power wanted to experience it again, to see how it ticked and what made it so special. What did the absorption of the corona pollentia do? What sorts of powers did Taylor Hebert have? Because there was no doubt in her mind that there was something to Taylor. One did not have a secondary and tertiary circulatory system that channeled an exotic bioenergy field throughout the body without some sort of use.

Releasing a deep sigh, she retracted her hand from the patient and got to her feet, not even giving a second thought to the thank you's spouted by the patient's parents. She was honestly tired of being thanked, because it never meant anything. Too often, the thanks were merely going through the motions and not the heartfelt thanks that they should be.

Yes, it was her being jaded, but after two years of this, there were just too many people who took her for granted. She was Panacea, after all, the cure-all who could heal almost everything. Too many expected it of her, not caring how much time and energy she put in so their expectations could be met. It was the type of empty thanks that one would get for getting their order correct and on time.

And maybe it was her fault for allowing it to happen. She had the power to walk away, to actually put her foot down and say no. She could make people understand what it cost her to be here so often, to pour so much of her time, energy, and sanity into healing people day in and day out for maybe a few fleeting moments of appreciation for what she did.

It would be so easy to just say no.

And maybe that was why she refused to do it. Because once she did it once, what would stop her from doing it again. And maybe again after that? What right did she have, with her power, to tell people that they simply had to die because she wanted to be selfish.

That's what Carol would say, and she couldn't help but find herself agreeing with it, as much as she hated the idea.

She couldn't do it. It was simply too callous.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose as she stepped into the small cafeteria that served the floor, she decided she didn't want to think anymore about it anymore. It would only end in a vicious cycle achieving nothing except make her feel horrible for daring to think about it. Instead, she forced her mind back to her previous distraction and she purchased a candy bar and soda from the vending machine, finding a table to sit down at.

She had to wonder if Taylor was using her abilities now. And if she was, what were they. Was she a cape? A villain? There were just too many unknowns that she couldn't have answered because she didn't have enough time to divine just what she did. Again, it somehow had something to deal with the bioelectric energy, but it could be anything.

Furthermore, she wasn't aware of any cape that use any sort of bioelectric-

She froze, candy bar halfway to her mouth.

Correction,there was one cape that used something similar. She had been called in to analyze a few cases of it early on in the appearance of the cape that PHO was starting to call Angel. Specifically the pieces of paper that had been affixed to the necks of criminals captured by her.

But that didn't make any sense, the bioelectric energy that was being generated by the piece of paper on the neck of the victim was different. It worked differently…working to stimulate parts of the brain to maintain unconsciousness.

Unless it was imbued. But how would that work? How would she imbue her energy onto a slip of paper.

But wait. According to what she recalled, Angel was only maybe five and a half feet tall, if that. Taylor was taller than that, so could they be the same person? Would whatever her power was enable her to change her appearance?

Why would she do that? What purpose did it serve? If she could change her appearance, why of all things would she choose to look asian, and have to deal with the baggage of being accused of working for, or at least, with the ABB, despite her actions against the ABB.

It made no sense.

She shook her head, discarding the idea. She was overthinking this. It was obviously someone with a similar power. There were enough capes in the world with similar abilities that only expressed themselves differently.

Besides, she was treading into dangerous waters anyway: The Unwritten Rules. While she had not violated them yet, per se, she was getting awfully close because of her discovery of Taylor as Parahuman. What she was doing now, a case could be made that she was working against them by trying to figure out if Angel was Taylor using her ill-gotten gains. To unmask a parahuman (if she had a make in the first place) was a violation, and even being who she was, would not protect her.

In fact, it would likely be worse for her, because of how she gained the information she did.

It wasn't fair, she thought with a bit of petulance, as she finished off the candy bar. It wasn't her fault that she had stumbled across something like this.

So what was she to do?

The obvious answer was to do nothing, and she knew that was unlikely to happen. She already knew the temptation to be back inside Taylor, to see exactly what it was that made her tick, to see what this unique structure could do, would be maddening as time went on. But she couldn't exactly walk up to Taylor and announce she knew what was she, that was liable to get her in a lot of trouble as well. Unwritten rules and all of that, not to mention how Taylor would react as well. As tightly wound as that girl was, she wouldn't put it past her that it might turn to violence, and she would rather prefer that did not take place.

So, that was what she was left with, she guessed. She could look, but not touch. Just the acknowledgement of denying that temptation was going to be hell upon her. Because for once, she was excited by something.

Sighing in disappointment she glanced at her phone and noted the time. Once again, it was going to be a late shift since Victoria had yet to call and check in. It meant either her patrol was taking a bit longer because she was involved in a crime, or she was spending time with her on-again-off-again boyfriend Dean.

Which meant more healing for her, she mused as she rose to her feet, walking toward the exit and making sure she tossed away her refuse. She had taken a long enough break as is.

So it came to no surprise when Nurse Dawes flagged her down, motioning her over to her station, even as she was having a small conference with several other nurses. Obviously they were just finishing up, as they broke away as she arrived, moving to wherever they were supposed to go as Dawes seemed to be getting herself ready.

"What happened," she couldn't help but asking the older brunette, not exactly looking forward to whatever it was that had changed the atmosphere in the hospital, as what had previously been almost sleepy was reaching a frenetic buzz of activity.

"That new cape again," came the response as the woman placed some papers on a clipboard, "Guess she took exception to the ABB, because she took out of their brothels. BBPD is sending us serious injuries and quite a few of the young girls that were kept there. Can you help us out?"

Dawes had always been one of the good ones to her, at least. She rarely imposed upon her unless it was something important and treated her with respect. It was one of the reasons she actually tolerated working so late at night certain nights. So if she was asking, it was because she would appreciate the help.

"Sure," she agreed, even though she knew it was going to be a long night if she did.

AND​

Stifling a yawn, she rested her hand on the cool wood of the desk.

It had been a long night, between assisting on checking on the young girls, many of them underage to her fury, and filling out the various forms and reports that were necessary for the hospital's recordkeeping, she had not been able to get home til well after two in the morning.

A part of her was glad for the Angel, at least she was trying to do something worthwhile. Even if she did look poorly upon the violence that she had to clean up after the fact,. Several of the injured that were brought in were those that received the tender mercies of the parahuman. And by tender, she was being quite facetious, as they were brutalized in ways to maximize pain.

Not that they didn't deserve it, if what she had been able to understand from the girls as she healed them, but it had taken her almost three cases before she had even recognized that there had been almost a textbook pattern in how it was done. She actually found herself wondering if Angel actually had any medical expertise with how clinical she had inflicted those injuries.

If she was honest, judging by everything she had healed, it may have been even more than that. She had been there to heal another few cases that had been on the receiving end of the parahuman's ministrations, and the comparison between those and these were like night and day. It may be her reading too much into it, but there just seemed to be a lot of rage in what she had done, in how she inflicted those injuries. It had taken them nearly two hours to safely remove the acupuncture needles from the head of the brothel, after all, and if not for her intervention, the man would have been screaming the entire time.

While she was not certain as to what the source of whatever it was that drove the parahuman to the lengths that she did, she did know that it would not reflect well upon her with the Protectorate. From what she had heard from Vicky, the Brockton Bay Protectorate was already becoming somewhat leery of the rogue's vigilantism. At least enough that they were trying to take a more proactive approach to trying to approach her, probably to constrain her from escalating too far.

And while last night was not exactly the massive escalation they likely were expecting, it was an escalation in the brutality of her actions. No one was dead yet, but last night, well, just how far was she going to go, Amy had to wonder.

Her musings, however, were interrupted by a presence that had stopped by her desk, causing her to look up to the source of the interruption to find Taylor standing there.

"Sorry about yesterday," the brunette said, her gaze meeting hers for a moment, before turning her head away, "I wasn't exactly the best of partners. I was letting my own biases get in the way of our project, and well, I don't exactly have a very appreciative view of the Protectorate or PRT. It's a long story, but I don't want that to hurt our paper, so umm...here."

Taylor then placed a small folder in front of her, and Amy found herself picking it up and opening it, taking the time to look through it. Idly noting that the report was a whopping twenty-two pages long, with various notes and graphs..

"While I do have some disagreement with how its done, the Protectorate does serve a necessary purpose," Taylor said, turning back to look at her as she read through it, noting that a lot of the statistics now were ones that fit with what she had been arguing last night, "but well," she sighed, offering small smile that was closer to a grimace, "I'd rather get a good grade than have both of us fail because of my pride."

It was actually quite well written, Amy couldn't help but note, as she continued to leaf through it, professional even. Then again, outside of what happened last night, it made sense considering how Taylor carried herself.

Still...

"You wrote all of this overnight," she couldn't help but say, unable to not let a bit of incredulity tint her tone, only to be met with a nonchalant shrug.

"It was the least I could do after my little display," was her reply, "not like you have a lot of time to dedicate to writing a report up, and writing just happens to be one of my stronger points. So? What do you think?"

Amy found herself looking down at the report, before finally looking back up to the brunette. She had to wonder what exactly Taylor had been thinking that would cause her to actually take the time to write such an honestly exhaustive report. She could understand if Taylor had a poor opinion on the Protectorate that it would have possibly caused her reaction, but still, to write all of this…even as some sort of an apology, was a tad bit extreme.

Still, she wasn't going to sit here and judge her if she wanted to do it. It would be unfair of her to do, considering that Taylor was a transfer student and was obviously trying her best to perform.

With a shake of her hand and a sigh, she picked up the folder and handed it back to the brunette.

"It looks good," she finally said, "I would have liked to have written a little bit of it two, but I guess the saying of too many cooks may apply here, am I right?"

This earned a small smile at the joke, as Taylor nodded, "Undoubtedly," she replied, before reaching out and taking the folder, one of her fingers accidentally brushing against hers as she gripped the report.

It took every ounce of willpower for her not to react to the inadvertent touch, even as her power cultivated a massive influx of information it received as it took every bit of advantage it could with that single fleeting moment, cataloguing everything as quickly as possible like a parched man quenching their thirst.

Ah...so that's how it works...she thought dazedly, before being wrenched from her observations and back to reality as Taylor took the folder back, fingers breaking contact as she found herself returning back to reality. What she found to meet her, however, made her wish she didn't.

It was obvious almost immediately upon her return, that from the expression that Taylor was giving her, that she knew exactly what had just taken place. And she was certainly not amused at the gross violation of her privacy, despite the blank look upon her face.

But the eyes, oh, the eyes said everything she thought, that Amy felt herself freeze as a sudden pressure descended upon her.

And then, as quickly as it had been there, it was gone, as Taylor tilted her head slightly as she offered a small smile, leaving her the opportunity to breath again.

"Well, at least Mister Fitzgerald wasn't explicit on how we allotted the workload. It's a good thing we followed the rules he laid out, even if it was an unfortunate mistake that we didn't adhere to the spirit of it. At least he won't know," Taylor finally said, placing special emphasis on parts of what she was saying that drove home to her just how beyond the pale she was.

But it was also, she realized with a blink, an olive branch being offered to her in what Taylor was saying. That as long as Amy followed the Unwritten Rules in not unmasking her to anyone else, then Taylor would not act in accordance with those rules.

She released a breath she didn't even realize she had been holding. But as Taylor's bored into her, she knew she had only one response she could give, as she nodded her head.

"Of course, Taylor. What he doesn't know won't hurt us."

Satisfied with the answer, her parahuman classmate strode away. Leaving her with a whole mess of feelings she wasn't exactly sure she wanted to deal with.

 

[AlSmash]

I had originally planned to have a significant amount of PHO content, where I had envisioned Taylor playing PHO like a fiddle, but honestly, I could not get myself into writing it, and deleted about 800 words because of it because it kept carrying on and I was having issues writing up the various commenters. So yeah, here it is, and next chapter, I promise, is going to have some actions finally.

——————————————————————


Awakening 1.07

I couldn't help but still bask in my success as I left Arcadia. That heady feeling of gambling against the house and winning big was something that just could not be discounted. Because it was in essence what I had just done by backing Amy into a corner in order to control information.

Then again, I had also stacked the odds against the house before I even made the gamble.

I think it was Sun Tzu that said something about victory stemming from knowing yourself and your enemy. While Konan didn't have a philosophical allegory in her world, there was no need either because it was honestly the law of the land for her. Mistakes in intelligence and naivete had led to the death of Yahiko, and after that, she refused to every let herself be caught off-guard ever again.

So, before I ever decided to take to the streets, when I wasn't training my body, I was amassing as much information about the local cape scene as I could. By the time I went out on my first night, I had memorized to heart almost every facet of knowledge available, both real and debated, about each and every known cape in Brockton Bay, both hero and villain, in the event that I encountered them. Their strengths, their weaknesses, and how I should proceed if I did encounter them.

It was why I hadn't been exactly concerned when I encountered Hookwolf. I had enough information on him to know I had enough in my bag of tricks in order to subdue him. Even if the seal scheme that I had to use to take him down had been rough as hell to put together on the fly. Nonetheless, I had been somewhat prepared for him that night.

Amy Dallon, Panacea, in comparison, was a bit more difficult in gleaning information for. Of course, there was a basic overview that basically could be summed up that she could heal you via touch. However, both the Protectorate and New Wave were mum on the mechanics of how she achieved it, so I was left with the accounts of those that she healed.

While there was scant information that could be found, obviously a lot of work was being done to sanitize the information, likely through NDA's and whatnot, there was one common fact between almost every single public account: She asked for permission to heal.

Now, on the surface, it did make sense, to a certain extent. However, once I thought more on it, it didn't make sense. From everything I was able to research on her, every single person she healed through the hospital was vetted and approved. So, why did she ask for permission?

There were only three possible conclusions I could come to, the first being that it was a matter of personal preference, the second being that it was for medical liability reasons (which I find unlikely, due to the fact that the hospital is already vetting patients), or the third reason was because her power was a violation of privacy.

At the time I did my analysis, it really didn't matter, I honestly did not expect that I would be in the tender mercies of Panacea at any time, if I planned and executed well enough. But it sat there on the back burner, because the third option provided a possible opportunity for blackmail. Because if her ability had any commonalities with medical ninjutsu, then it would be extremely invasive, and I could almost guarantee there would be those who would be nervous at the idea of a teenage girl having access to every facet of their biology, even if she had a medical license, she was not a qualified medical professional.

Of course, the blackmail would be rather weak, I could see several ways out of the trap, but the lovely thing about blackmail was the emotional aspect of it, people legitimately fear that which they cannot control. People had a tendency of reacting irrationally to blackmail, so if they reacted instead of considering, then they would play into the hands of the blackmailer.

What happened the previous night, well, honestly, couldn't have possibly happened any better, despite my fury at discovering Sophia was a damned Ward. When I had an opportunity to review what had happened between Amy and myself, after suitably calming my rage upon the ABB (Which, I will admit, I did go overboard using paper senbon on the manager of the establishment. In my defense however, if anyone else had spent the last week observing the place, they would have acted rather similarly. Still, it was excessive.), I realized just exactly what had taken place.

Konan had decades of experience in reading people. It came with her job as Nagato's right hand, both in administering Amegakure and also interrogations. So when in my review I noted the sudden dilation of Amy's pupils when she placed her hand upon me, I knew almost immediately with almost complete certainty, that Amy's powers had discovered my chakra network.

At first, I wanted to storm down to Brockton Bay General and take Panacea to task for her invasion. But that would have been suicidal, attacking Panacea would have put a target on my head that I would have never been able to shake, regardless of what I did. So with a frontal attack ruled out, nor could I make public what she had done, as that would lead to too many questions that would eventually lead back to me, which left me with blackmail.

Luckily, for me, Konan was an old hand at the age old profession.

Even more lucky for myself, however, was the Unwritten Rules. While I vehemently disagreed with the entire premise because it was a concession that gave way too much to the criminals, in this case, I could use it to my advantage. After all, it would be such a shame for a hero's power to be outed as an outright violation of the Unwritten Rules in regards to unmasking parahumans.

Especially one as high profile as Panacea.

But I had to be sure, it would not do well for me to go off half-cocked, thereby undermining myself by revealing my status when I was never unmasked to begin with. That was why I made sure to make contact with her again, watching again for the telltale signs that would be unmistakable to the trained eye.

And I was not disappointed. Again, when she made contact with me, there was that momentary freeze, the dilation of eyes. One time would have only been a coincidence, but the second time, repeated once again through simple physical contact; well, Amy might as well put up a neon sign saying she had unmasked me.

Everything was set for me to spring the trap, but when I was about to blackmail her by trapping her in the very rules heroes had deliberately strung themselves up in, I changed plans. Call it a whimsy, but there was a constant whisper in the back of my mind that blackmailing her as hard I originally wished would be a mistake, the why was fleeting, but the message still remained the same. That I would be making a mistake. It was honestly frustrating. But ever since the locker incident, I had made it a point to go with my gut feeling, regardless of what logic said otherwise.

So I extended the olive branch, softening it to a simple acknowledgment that made her aware that I knew that she knew, and I would treat the violation with silence as long as she did the same. It was definitely a soft approach, merely offering detente instead of aggressively pursuing blackmail. But I knew immediately, watching her expression, that it had been the right choice. The fear, knowing that she had been discovered, suddenly giving away to relief that I was not going to retaliate in any way for her violation of the rules was something I doubt even many professionals could do.

Was it dirty to play to her emotions? Certainly. But I was a shinobi, playing dirty came in the job description.

Nonetheless, I had, for now, secured that security liability. I would probably have to invest in more time ensuring that it would not return to being a liability, which, considering the opening I had inadvertently created, was likely to be rather easy to cultivate out of mutual self-interest between the two of us.

Still, in the end, it worked out, and that was all that matters. Yet another feather to add to my cap of successes.

AND​

As I stepped into my Daybreak, I took a moment to just stand there and luxuriate in the atmosphere. The cornucopia of scents lingered in the air, the sharp smell of freshly printed vellum and ink, mingling with the musky scent of age and weathering that served to announce the age of older books to the masses.

I wonder what mom would think at the idea that starting tomorrow, I would have my very own bookstore. I wondered if she would be proud of it. Or would she be disappointed that I was using criminals's money in order to do so? Maybe she would understand why I was doing all of this.

Finally descending back to reality, I opened my eyes, taking in the store one more time.

Ignoring the reason I was doing all of this, I still couldn't help but feel a connection that I never thought I would experience now. Here, in this building, surrounded by these scents, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic of all the times Mom and I would go into bookstores, of when she would read to me when I was younger, or when we would discuss the classics.

God, I wish she was here, I thought, even as I felt myself tearing up, taking the time to swipe away the errant tear that chose to escape its confines. Taking a deep breath, I then let it out, taking with it the variety of emotions that plucked at my heart strings.

Regardless of what she may have thought, I would like to think that she would at least be happy that I never lost my love of books, I thought, feeling my lips twitch upwards for a moment.

"Taylor."

I then buried everything back behind a mask, and found myself meeting the coal-black eyes of 'Itachi', yet another of my paper clone 'incarnations' that I had spent time putting together in order to pull off this entire facade. The only difference between the Itachi of Konan's memory and the one before me was the addition of glasses and the modernization of clothing. To the casual observer the clone have easily passed as a librarian, though in this case, it was merely a book-savvy seller.

"It's nothing," I responded, choosing to stride past 'him', "how are thing's proceeding?"

"Well enough," came the response, "one of the last shipment of mass-produced books came in this morning and they will be sorted and placed by this evening. The only problem right now is that we didn't receive the Aleph books we ordered, they'll arrive Tuesday."

"And the phones I ordered?"

"In the basement."

"Good," I found myself responding, a small smile the only crack in my mask, "very good."

It was a calculated risk that every single one of the 'employees' in the store would be paper clones (with valid tax id numbers that had cost me a pretty penny but were worth it, no one ever wanted to be on the bad side of the IRS) but I could not afford to have flesh-and-blood employees finding out that Daybreak was serving as a front for me to hide my monetary intake from raids. While I was not exactly money laundering per se, in that my gains were not illegally gotten, as per the law, they still were treading dangerously close to the line. But I had no other means of cleaning the money without it being traced back to me. The Protectorate would be looking for any type of banking transactions with the amounts I was fielding, not to mention I would legally be required to announce the source of these monetary gains when I made the deposit.

So I was left with 'donating' the money to Daybreak, in small amounts for the time being, but it would be more difficult to trace, and it would certainly be safer than hiding the cash in my base or at home. And honestly, this was only a stop-gap measure until I could find other means, or until I was revealed.

That and 'working' here provided me an alibi for both my transactions while I was unmasked and for why I was out at night. After all, my father couldn't exactly call me out for being out at night if I had a job to pay for my increased expenditures.

Stepping into the back room, I went to one of the walls and stood before it. Taking a moment, I ran my finger over an invisible seal, causing the wall to fade away to reveal a set of stairs that went into the basement.

This was one of the features I had made sure to have when I purchased the storefront for Daybreak. With a basement, when I wasn't working and making sure things were going right, I could spend the time planning my next raid, or just take the time to train or decompress. Of course, if any sort of inspector or, god forbid, law enforcement, came to check it out, I would ensure that the seal was offline, and the basement appeared to be only for storage, but outside of that, when I wasn't at my lair in the docks, I could do almost everything except physical training and seals here.

Last night's revelations of Sophia's identity had shaken me. I had wanted to storm the Protectorate and demand answers, or, an even darker part of me wanted for Sophia to suffer an 'accident' while on her patrol, but only Konan's knowledge of the repercussions stayed my hand from such a foolhardy endeavor.

I could possibly excuse the Protectorate for their actions, it's likely they were unaware of what Sophia was up to. Bureaucracies that were understaffed (and the Brockton Bay Protectorate were certainly one of those) had a tendency of letting the little things slide, like the oversight of a 'reformed' hero.

I would make sure it would bite them in the ass, as they became increasingly irrelevant in the grand scheme things. It would take years, a lifetime even, I knew, unpackaging the various phones and opening the laptop that awaited me at the desk, taking my seat in front of it. But they chose to earn my ire when I was perfectly happy to let them muddle in their own inadequacy. I may not wish to attack them physically, but there were other ways to inflict pain. And in the court of opinion, I would find my justice.

It only took a few more minutes before I was ready to begin, my new phone tethering to the laptop, all the while I ensured the security was airtight. It probably wouldn't resist a tinker or thinker, but it would be sufficient for what I intended to do for now.

It only took a few minutes of typing, editing, correcting, and then just placing down the other phones, powering them up, and ensuring they were ready for what I intended to do. While I had no problem with using the populace, I wanted to ensure that I could direct their attention in the way that would best benefit myself.

So, it was after making sure everything was ready, I merely had to click one more button, watching as the board I was on processed my request, and then posted it, watching it as it appeared on the screen in front of my eyes.

——————————————————————​

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Topic: I am Tenshi: Ask Me Anything

In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Introductions

Shikigami no Mai (Original Poster) (Unverified Cape)

Posted on March 17, 2011:

A rather self-explanatory thread title, but after weeks of watching the board discuss matters about me, with some bordering on the fantastical (I'm looking at you XxVoid_CowboyxX), I felt it would only be fair, after the events of last night, that I make myself available to you for any questions you may have.

For verification purposes: [here], [here]. and [here].

So, I guess a little about myself to open it up. Yes, I call myself 天使, or as you would anglicize it, Tenshi, which translates into Angel. Pretentious, I'd agree, but I have yet to figure out a heroic name to call myself, and it is rather appropriate when you consider the third picture I have posted for verification.

And before you feel the necessity to accuse me of being a weeb, yes, I am Japanese. So please, refrain from distilling my culture into some sort of base slavish worship, it's hard enough to keep a positive opinion of it with Lung doing his level best to ruin it for the rest of us survivors.

If that isn't enough for you to put together my opinion of the Azn Bad Boys, lemme put it more bluntly. I am a Hero. I despise all of the gangs equally and wish they were put down like the criminals they are, cape or otherwise.

As for the theme of my powers, I guess it would be described as papyrokinesis, or the manipulation of paper.

——————————————————————​

Leaning back into my chair, I waited. It certainly wouldn't be long, I had become a hot commodity on the local board, with the various boards discussing not only my abilities, but also my reason for not working with the Protectorate. After all, if I was on the side of angels, why wouldn't I work with them. Then there were others who questioned my motives, with one actually saying I was actually working for the Empire 88 as some sort of deniable asset. I fixed that when I took down Hookwolf, but I will admit, I had not been amused with whoever Void Cowboy was.

All I had to do was make sure that when I started putting the spotlight on the Protectorate, it was in a way that it wouldn't blow up on me. It wouldn't be hard, all I had to do was ensure that the right questions were asked at the right time, and once that was done, I could sign off.

Of course, I had plans tonight, so I would make sure I wouldn't be on here too late.

After all, I had a date with tearing the heart out of the Merchants tonight. It wouldn't do well for anyone for me to be late, I thought with a smirk.

 

[AlSmash]

Well, here is the chapter as promised. Took me a while longer than I wanted because things kinda took off. I did cut what I was projecting as another 1-2k words, because it would have consequences and didn't make sense for the nature of Taylor. I also took some liberties with Ame and the Naruto world's history, but hopefully it fits into the scheme of things.

I've kinda drawn myself, when I'm writing Taylor, to listening to Bury the Light by Casey Edwards ft Victor Borba. It is the character track for Vergil, but when I listen to it, outside of a few lyrics, I almost feel like this is perfect for Taynon and what she is.

Anyways, digression over, the next chapter will be an Interlude that is going to be from the perspective of Piggot, especially in light of everything that happens in this chapter. I don't have a timetable on that, because I want to sit down and study Piggot a bit more so I can honestly get her right. But I also want to ensure that everything is measured, because Taylor really rocks the boat this chapter.

After that, I only plan for anywhere between two and four more chapters to the 'Awakening' arc. The chapter after or two after the interlude will actually move away from any action, and more into Taylor's 'normal' things, like school, work, and scheming. But things are going to come to a head soon, after all, there's only so much she can push before there is blowback.

Enjoy the chapter.

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Awakening 1.08

When one cut to the very heart of the matter, ignoring all the inanities, excuses, and romanticism, criminals were not a complicated riddle. They were merely another aspect of accumulating power that was a dominant feature of humanity.

Further distilled, outside of the emotional and illogical aspects, criminality was heavily tied into economics. Yes, there were moral implications, but both Konan and, by extension, myself, found that morality was merely a social construct victim to the whims of the masses, where what might have been legal previously could be illegal now. It was subjective, yes, but by and far, it still largely came down to economics.

Drug dealers, of almost all criminals, were probably the most hamstrung by the principles of economics. They were beholden to the universal law of supply and demand. The Archer's Bridge Merchants, or simply, Merchants, were no exception to this rule. In fact, they were probably the most pure of the economic aspect of criminality in Brockton Bay.

That didn't prevent Konan's view upon drugs from infecting me, which was utter loathing at best. Before Hanzo, Amegakure had been the industrial heart of the elemental nations, producing and exporting steel and other strategic and commercial materials from their massive foundries. This economic power and its location as a central point connecting Hi, Kaze, and Tsuchi no Kuni combined to make it strategically important to the three powers despite the isolationist stance taken. When Hanzo took over, however, that same location made it ideal for another set trade that The Salamander took to in an attempt at repairing the damage wrought by its larger neighbors and their fighting: narcotics.

By the time of Akatsuki's rise, narcotics had become the second largest export of Amegakure. So profitable that the greenhouses that served for a significant portion of Ame's food production were co-opted for additional narcotics production.

Life in Ame was difficult as it were, between the toxic airborne pollution belched from the furnaces that made up the heart of its industry, water that required boiling and filtering just to be potable (and even then it was a crapshoot), explosion in drug usage, and paranoid police state, but there had always been just enough food, at least within the village. After all, one could not be productive if they didn't have the caloric intake to do said work.

But the decision to repurpose the greenhouses for drug production was the straw that broke the camel's back. What had previously been enough had become scarce, and in its absence, deprivation and starvation took hold even within the village.

It was in this atmosphere, along with the commencement of the Third Shinobi War, that Akatsuki was able to gain momentum, rallying the disenfranchised around removing Hanzo from power, reasserting Ame's isolation, repairing the environmental damage, and finally, abolishing the drug trade.

What they hadn't known until it was far too late that Hanzo had a silent benefactor who had been supporting him from the shadows in the form of Danzo Shimura. The Konoha elder had a vested interest in the drug trade of Amegakure, specifically in the distribution of it into Hi ni Kuni, by going straight to the source of the largest production of it, he was able to control and get a cut of the profit from the trade in Fire Country, providing funds for his ROOT organization and other endeavors. In return, Hanzo would have additional insurance and protection from the Konoha side, even if it was unofficial and off-the-books.

A bit twisted for a man who believed himself a patriot of his village, but in hindsight it made perfect sense. By controlling the drug trade into Hi no Kuni, he could limit the overall damage an out of control drug trade would have upon the country. All the while, he would be able to broker an alliance with Hanzo that would provide him intelligence he would not previously have had before.

Akatsuki would have ended it, and when Hanzo approached him for assistance, Danzo had sent his forces to assist The Salamander, intent on protecting his investment. It had been Danzo that had suggested that Hanzo lure them with the idea of a peace agreement in the face of the Third Shinobi War, preying on Akatsuki's wish for a peaceful transition of power.

It had been their naivete that cost them Yahiko and everything thereafter went horribly wrong.

Sometimes, in her more private moments, Konan had wished they had truly known just how far everything went. That they hadn't been so blindingly naive in believing that change could be brought with only a minimum of violence, so caught up in their sensei's teaching that they ignored the reality staring them right in the face.

Nonetheless, after Hanzo had been killed by Nagato, Konan had made it a personal mission of hers to completely destroy the drug trade within Amegakure after the discovery of the records kept by Hanzo detailing everything, including his deal with Danzo, violently. It had been by her hand that all of Hanzo's family met death, brutally so. It had been her that had spent almost a year tracking down every single person who had made money off the trade, offering them only the release of death for their crimes. And through it all, Nagato had taken the credit for her actions, knowing that she was not proud of herself, having been so consumed in her grief and rage.

So yes, Konan had a very intimate understanding and hatred for the drug trade, and I was taking advantage of every kernel of that knowledge to turn the Merchants into nothing more than a fleeting memory.

Certainly, there was no doubt that of the three major gangs in Brockton Bay, the Merchants were the weakest. They lacked the coordination and the martial strength to make them nothing more than an irritant compared to the likes of the Azn Bad Boys or Empire 88. Their focus solely upon the drug trade and protecting the territory they did have.

Realistically, it would be rather simple for either gang to roll up the Merchants, taking them maybe a day or three to do so. The only issue was that such a deployment would cause a reaction from the other gang. So as a result, the Merchants were able to quietly expand their territory into the docks, though it still wasn't officially known. Even with the captures of Merchants in the Docks, the PRT and local law enforcement viewed their presence as merely forays instead of an actual expansion.

But honestly, this oversight was a boon. If the Protectorate, PRT, or BBPD had been fully aware of the Merchant's accelerated expansion into the docks, they would have likely taken a more proactive approach in curtailing this development. However, because they had not, it would provide just enough kindling for what I intended next.

In a protracted, or hell, even a straight-up fight with the Empire 88 or Azn Bad Boys, I would lose. I currently didn't have the chakra for the type of heavy-hitting I would need to take on the likes of Lung or Kaiser, along with a few others. Furthermore, all of my engagements up until now had taken advantage of excellent intelligence gathering and the element of surprise.

Going forward, this would likely not be the case, as each action would provide more and more information to my enemies to prepare for. Even with the handful of tricks I kept up my sleeve, it likely would not be enough, and it would only take one mistake for that to be it.

Of course, if I aimed to kill from the outset, that would make things easier, but it wouldn't work out in the long run, even if I wanted to. Accruing a bodycount had a tendency of sobering people's enthusiasm for a hero, and if I wished to institute the changes I wanted, I had to continue being a hero in the eyes of the public. Even if I intellectually knew I would have to kill sooner or later. The threat some criminals presented simply prevented me from ignoring the likely necessity of such an eventuality.

It was with an irritated sigh I landed on the roof of a building. There was no point distracting myself with the onus of my position, it wasn't relevant to the here and now. The Merchants were not worthy of the expenditure of thought, they were barely worth what they were about to get.

The attacks on the Merchants had all been about information gathering. While I could spend weeks trying to ascertain where their various dens and strongholds were, it was much easier to kick over the hornet's nest and watch for reactions.

That had largely been successful, and it provided me with a lot more information than I previously had. But probably the greatest piece of information I was able to glean was where Squealer's workshop was.

When I had begun my plans to eliminate the Merchants, I had quickly recognized the largest threat of the gang was Squealer, not Skidmark. While Skidmark was certainly a threat, he did not furnish force projection that the Squealer did. The vehicle tinker's ability to provide transportation along with fire support if she so chose made her the lynchpin to the Merchant's ability to both attack and defend. If she were to be eliminated, the Merchants would be severely hampered, quite possibly to the point where they would become a non-factor.

So it had been with that in mind that I had expended significant effort in identifying just where Squealer kept her workshop. It was the best place to neutralize her, while her vehicles were idle.

It had only been yesterday that I had discovered the workshop. That, I had to grudgingly admit, had been a stroke of luck. If it hadn't been for a rather chatty Merchant, it would have likely taken me another week to find it. But perhaps even more to my luck, tonight was supposed to be a gathering of all three parahumans, along with a substantive part of the larger dealers and producers to discuss me.

Irony, thy name is Taylor.

But still, the opportunity could not be ignored. I doubt I would get a better chance to decapitate the leadership in one fell swoop.

Hence, why I was here, across the street from an abandoned machinist shop that made tools for marine engines. I turned my head towards my clone as it melted out of the shadows. After a moment, it held up a hand and a paper butterfly flew out and melted in me as I closed my eyes to focus my review of its surveillance.

Over time, I had discovered that there were two methods for me to gather information from my clones. The first was to be expected, by simply absorbing the paper of the clone, I could experience everything it did in the span of seconds, the information provided as clear as if I were in its place. The second method, however, was one that I discovered on accident, and strangely, was not one that Konan had ever fielded: the ability to communicate over distances with my clone, with it able to share information or even its vision, at the cost of chakra, dependent upon the distance and information shared.

What was interesting, as an aside, was the fact that nowhere in Konan's memories could I find any knowledge or indication that this second ability existed. Which made absolutely no sense, considering that for such an honestly broken ability, it would have been something Konan abused as an S-Rank kunoichi. The only explanation that I could come up with to satisfy this discrepancy was simply another facet of how Konan's abilities had manifested differently in me. No point in bemoaning an advantage when I needed everything I could get.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance, having finished up my review of the information.

Of course things wouldn't go as perfectly as I imagined they would. Of the people I wanted at this meeting, Skidmark would not be here yet. Squealer and Mush were there, but the last member of the trifecta had yet to show.

Now, I was left with a conundrum. I could choose to wait, but the problem with people under the influence of drugs was that they were difficult to predict, especially if they were actively on something. And from what my clone had observed, yeah, there were already a few usages this evening. If I waited, I ran the chance that the meeting would break up, and I would lose my one chance for a major strike against the Merchants.

However, if I did wait, and Skidmark did arrive—No, I thought with a shake of the head. Take what I can when I have the opportunity. Skidmark was unstable enough that if I did succeed here, he was liable to get himself killed doing something stupid.

With my choice made, I proceeded to create eight paper clones, taking a few moments to let both them and myself regain our bearings. While a normal paper clone wouldn't require such a method, increasing their durability so they weren't destroyed if they received damage required a lot more concentration and chakra. Konan preferred to avoid using this facet of the paper clone technique simply because of the universal rule of quantity being its only quality. Well, that and she preferred using her paper clones as kamikazes, because even with the enhancements, they could not take a beating.

Satisfied that they were sufficiently prepped, I passed the orders that dispersed them to their ready position. With myself and eight clones, taking out all that were inside should be relatively painless, as long as things didn't get too out of hand. Still, there was a chance, as the machinist shop had no ceiling shops, and my only ways in were through one of the four doors, and whatever openings I may make.

But my first concern, however, were the three vehicles currently situated in the workshop in various states of readiness. They were all in functional shape, the matter was their armaments were not fully ready. Still, the weapons they did have ranged from various mounted small arms, to back mounted light infantry mortar. Hell, my clone had been surprised when she recognized what appeared to be a Bushmaster autocannon from a Bradley strapped on the largest of the three. Where she got the ammunition for it, I had no idea. Suffice to say, however, was that these vehicles had to be disabled before I made a move, because if they weren't, then it was gonna get ugly real quick.

It was with this in mind, I jumped over to the roof of the machinist shot, coming down into a kneel on the loose asphalt. Closing my eyes again to focus, reaching out to connect with my chakra, even as I changed the state of my body to paper. Slowly, with a soft fluttering, sheets of paper sloughed off of my hands, the loose paper folding itself smaller and smaller, even as other sheets joined with one another.

It only took a few minutes, but once I finished, I allowed myself to slump forward slightly, catching my breath from the exertion. Even with my chakra reserves as they were, the technique was taxing, being the first time I had used it to such an extent.

But it was successful, as before me were dozens of small cockroach-shaped paper constructs, awaiting to be unleashed like the insectile horde they were.

This was my solution to Squealer's vehicles within. Ironically, it was one of the first seals I had created. When I had looked at explosive tags, a staple of Konan's arsenal, I had noticed that the explosives were quite honestly—crude. Put more succinctly, the standard explosive tag was simply that, an imprecise explosive. There was nothing special to it, it relied for the target to either be within the explosion, or close enough to where the pressure wave would do enough to incapacitate them. Which, when you think about it, made a lot of sense, there really was nothing in the Shinobi world to entice actual research into making improvements to explosives outside of bigger explosions.

Here, however, there was plenty of reason for me to work on fine-tuning and improving explosives seals into something that was both compact, and precise: armor plating, vehicles, the list went on It would not do well for me simply to take a page out of Deidara's book and simply solve everything with massed explosions. That had a good chance of blowing up in my face if I did.

That was why, in order to minimize collateral damage, within each 'cockroach' contained was a seal matrix for a small shaped-charge warhead designed to take out armor and vehicles. It could also take out doors, but that wasn't their purpose here.

The idea for it was that each cockroach would slip into the vehicles and place themselves in critical places to where when they detonated, the explosive's energy would be channeled to render the vehicles inoperative. With the vehicles taken out, they would be unable to stage any sort of counter-attack to take me out and Squealer was only as useful as her vehicles.

I just had to make sure I avoided the engines of the vehicles. From my research of Squealer's vehicles, a lot of the Tinker bullshit that stemmed from her vehicles were involved with the power system. It would be rather awkward if taking out the engine would level the entire building, after all.

Finally catching my breath, I commanded the cockroaches storm the building, keeping out of sight of those within and putting themselves in place for when I detonated them. I did keep a handful of them with me, arranging them in a small circle in front of me.

Now it was simply a matter of waiting now for everything to finally be in place. Even after the weeks of doing this, I still found the prospect of waiting to be the most tedious of things when I was in the field. I wasn't impatient, per se, but it was the nerves that the long I waited, the larger chance that things would change enough to where they would become complicated.

Finally, everything was in place, and I released the breath I hadn't even realized I had been holding. Taking a few more moments, I glanced through the link with my clones and a few of the 'cockroaches' to double-check everything before I was satisfied.

With a one-handed snake sign, I detonated every seal. The asphalt scattering as the explosives seals vaporized a hole for me. I then jumped through the hole into chaos.

The explosions had doubled as a signal for my clones, who had burst in through the other entrances and used the confusion to start rolling up the various members of the Merchants.

I came down on the hood of one of the gutted vehicles, already searching for my target. It only took a moment, but then again, as trashily dressed as she was, she stuck out like a sore thumb even amongst her ilk, I quickly moved towards her as she was busy screaming obscenities. She was only turning around in response to a shouted warning before I grabbed her arm, whipping her around and bending her hand back as I took out her legs. She wasn't able to finish calling me a "fucking bitch" before I had slapped a paralysis seal on her.

I had only a split-second warning, but it was just barely enough, as I changed myself to my paper state as a wooden pallet tore me in half. Even though I was paper now, I could see who my attacker was and if I was intact I would have clicked my tongue in irritation.

It appeared that I had underestimated how quickly Mush was able to assemble his collecting of junk and other detritus. Already the seven-foot tall trash golem was overwhelming two of my clones even as he was working to absorb some of the gutted machinery into his body.

As I reformed myself, I was already making plans. Forming another clone, I had it take over wrapping Squealer as I moved towards him. All the while the rest of my clones were working through the rest of the Merchants.

Mush, once he gained his junk armor, was going to be a bit more difficult to take down. The issue wasn't necessarily taking him down, as much as doing it nonlethally with my known assortment of tricks. That had been why I had dedicated two clones to dealing with him.

Still, I had options. Few as they were.

With a quick mental command, I ordered the two clones to break apart, providing me with both the distraction and the material necessary for what I intended to do.

Leaping up, I spread out wings from my back before channeling chakra through them and then using them to accelerate downward, leading with my foot. As I approached, I used the paper to create a 'plate' where his head was.

Mush had only started to turn to me when my foot impacted the plate which collided with his head, causing him to stagger. The fetid smell catching my nose as I pushed off the plate, commanding the floating paper to wrap around him.

I could feel his power trying to connect with the paper, vying to overwhelm my control through some sort of touch via him. Unfortunately for him, for every piece of paper he was able to hijack, there were twenty more to take their place. Soon, he was like an oversized mummy, the only thing visible being his eyes as I slowly approached him. His large bloodshot eyes locked onto me, and I could feel him trying even harder to subjourn my paper.

"Mush, stand down," I ordered, tightening the wrap of paper to where, even with the junk, would make it difficult to breathe, as I formed a javelin over my shoulder, the warning made clear, "or else."

For a moment, meeting his gaze, I worried that he was going to resist. If he did, then it would make it more difficult to restrain him.

Trying to knock someone unconscious was not like on tv or in the movies, even doing it 'correctly' had a chance of causing significant bodily harm if even one thing was out of place. It was why seals were my go-to means for knocking someone unconscious. But the issue with the seal was it had to be placed at the back of the neck in order to maximize effectiveness in transmission of the orders contained within the seal, and it had to be upon bare skin.

With the various junk and debris enveloping Mush, I would not have been able to do so.

"Slowly," I commanded, making sure to keep the threat hovering in sight, "you will release all of the junk you have merged with. I will allow you to start at your head, then slowly work your way down. Blink twice if you understand and comply."

Again, there was a pause, and I slowly tightened the paper again. It seemed to be enough, as he blinked twice.

"Good."

It only took a few minutes, and I was glad that Konan knew a way to channel chakra to block out scent, because once Mush was completely divested of his junk, even the reinforcement was barely enough to prevent me from gagging. Slapping him with a seal, I wrapped him up like the rest. Placing him beside Squealer, I checked with the various scouts I had placed around the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of the last one of the set. To my disappointment, it looked like I was going to have to settle on only two-thirds of the complete set.

That wasn't to say this wasn't a major success. Certainly not. For all intents and purposes, the Merchants status as an effective criminal gang of any sort was effectively over. Without Squealer, Mush, and several members of the upper echelon of the gang, Skidmark was on borrowed time. Either I would eventually hunt him down, or he would be dealt with by the Protectorate or other gangs in my place.

Suffice to say, I was fine with that. My objectives were already met, all that was necessarily left to be done would be handled shortly.

I paused as a paper owl descended upon me, dropping a phone into my hand, before absorbing itself back into me. A bit more complicated than necessary? Certainly. But I didn't trust keeping the phone on my body if I was constantly changing my physical state, and keeping it within a storage seal was a no-go; for some reason, the electronics involved didn't play well with the hammerspace created by the seal.

Not even paying mind to it, I quickly tapped in a number that was by now second-nature, placing it to my ear as I hit the 'call' button, listening to it dial before connecting, "PRT Tip Hotline."

"This is Tenshi, I am at the old machinist shop on the corner of Bigelow and Dales in the Docks. I have currently detained Squealer, Mush, and seventeen unpowered criminals in various states of narcotic intoxication with non-life-threatening injuries."

With my part said and done, I hung up. There was no point in waiting for acknowledgment. By now, it was rather academic having to answer any further questions. They knew how I operated. Besides, I had no doubt that they would be here in force anyways.

Now what to do, I mused. It would take at least twenty minutes for them to reach me, if they were in a hurry. Despite almost every time previously, I did intend to remain. It would only be fair for the Protectorate to receive my best.

You know what, I was going to have a bit of fun with this.

AND​

When word had come down that Tenshi had struck again, Shawn had been on patrol covering the Market district of Brockton Bay. As the closest Protectorate member to where Tenshi was, the task had been given to him that he would meet with the rogue hero and ensure that custody was transferred.

Normally, this would be a rather simple procedure, already done several times between the Protectorate and Tenshi, and Shawn could honestly admire the professionalism that transpired in each interaction, even if the last one had tweaked Armsmaster.

However, Tenshi's PHO introduction had complicated things. While the introduction was rather innocuous in the beginning, even to the point of being boringly standard fare, it hadn't remained so for long. He had actually been browsing the forum after dinner with his son, Addison, something he did to just get a pulse of the city before he put his son to bed and then turned in himself, reading as Tenshi remained ambiguous about why she would not join the Protectorate, when it happened.

(Showing Page 5 of 5)

► Murder of Crows

Replied on March 17, 2011:

Why are you being so evasive on answering if you'll join the Protectorate? If you are a hero, wouldn't the smart thing be that you join the largest heroic organization in Brockton Bay? Or is there something else going on? Has the Protectorate done something to offend you?

► Shikigami no Mai​

(Verified Cape)​

​

Replied on March 17, 2011:​

​

The answer to that is complicated. While I have the utmost respect and hold no personal animosity towards a large portion of the individuals who make up the Protectorate and PRT, I do, however, take umbrage with how the Protectorate operates as an organization.​

​

But that is a professional opinion. I will not begrudge the Protectorate because they are beholden to outside considerations that have an effect upon how they utilize their assets. Despite their limitations, they are the largest law enforcement organization designed for heroic capes, and they are willing to work with me, despite my operational reticence on joining them.​

​

Where I do draw the line however, is the deep-seated indifference that seems to be the modus operandi of the Brockton Bay branch of the Protectorate.​

​

This is a serious accusation, you would say, but it is no less true.​

​

Brockton Bay has one of the highest cape to civilian population per capita in the United States, It is home to two major and at least one minor gang. Historically, it has also been the home to several other criminal parahuman organizations in the past.​

​

And yet, since the establishment of the Protectorate branch here in Brockton Bay, there has been little notable success against parahuman criminals. Maquis was captured by New Wave. The Teeth killed themselves out of the Bay by making a deal with the figurative devil. Yet the Empire-88 and Azn Bad Boys still remain and continue to grow and flourish.​

​

No, what the Protectorate presence has done in Brockton Bay is simply attempt to maintain the status quo. What times they have engaged the likes of the Empire-88 or the ABB has been in order to break up the fights and mitigate the damage. What people they do end up detaining generally end up back on the streets within a week, and the less said about the capes, the better.​

​

Honestly, I would not be stunned that in a week or so I will find myself facing down Hookwolf again, rearing for Round Two, despite promises that he is bound for the Birdcage. That is how much faith I have in the current state of the Protectorate presence here.​

​

And it's not just the crime. It's not just the classist nature of what they invest and deploy their protection. It's not even the political and public relations games they play while my home is slowly strangled to death by out of control gangs vying for the city that frustrates me at their indifference.​

​

It's even in how they monitor their own heroes.​

​

Now, I won't go into detail, because that would be a violation of the Unwritten Rules. However, I will state that if Protectorate East-North-East truly cared about the people of Brockton Bay, they would take a good, hard look into the conduct of their heroes, Protectorate and Wards alike.​

​

I have a feeling that they will find that their so-called heroes are not as clean as they would hope they would be.​

​

Tl;dr: I don't personally trust the local Protectorate. While I can professionally work with them, I refuse to work for them as long as they continue to be what they are now.​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

At first, he had merely stared at it, his mind not exactly wanting to grasp what was said. But as the shock passed, he had to reread it again. Then a third time.

The first thing he felt, once it finally sunk it, was the need to deny it. There was no way that any of the members of the Protectorate ENE, let alone the Wards, was dirty. It had to be a lie.

But then, he stopped, a sobering thought, actually two thoughts, stilling his outright denial. The first being that he was aware that he was far too trusting as an individual, willing to accept his comrades' word at face value. The second was that he really didn't know his fellow Protectorate and Wards. Yes, he did work with them, but outside of work, there really wasn't anything that they shared together. And even if there had been any opportunity, he'd have rather spent time with his son.

So it was possible that he was unaware of things. That wasn't to say that he was going to believe what Tenshi was saying. But it was possible.

It was those thoughts that plagued him when his phone began ringing, the Caller ID telling him who exactly was calling and drawing a sigh from him. It seemed his plans to spend the night with his son were going to be canceled.

Which led him to where he was now, rendezvousing with a convoy of PRT vehicles and escorting them to the Docks. They would be the group that picked up the Merchants that the rogue hero had captured.

Including Squealer and Mush, he thought with a mental shake of his head. The woman was certainly not resting on her laurels. While the capture may not be as big as Hookwolf, it proved once again that she wasn't a fluke.

Still, what the paper manipulator had been doing in the last two weeks was worrying. He wasn't going to say that he was an expert on the gangs of Brockton Bay, but he knew enough to know that picking a fight with not just one of the gangs, but all three, as a solo cape was not exactly the best path to ensure living to a ripe old age. Even worse, it seemed with almost each day she was escalating, executing grander and more complex raids upon all of the gangs.

He also knew that sooner or later, something was going to give, and the gangs were going to retaliate. That meant that innocent people were going to get caught in the crossfire. Especially if Tenshi's claim about capturing Squealer and Mush were true.

He had to wonder if that was her intention. It was a dark thought, but from every angle that he looked at it, it appeared that Tenshi either wanted open warfare between herself and the gangs, or the gangs to go to war with one another. She wouldn't keep doing what she was otherwise. With the Merchants significantly weakened, the Empire 88 and the Azn Bad Boys would be keen to roll up the group, the minor inconvenience they had previously been, and that would lead them to open conflict.

No better time like the present to ask, he recognized, spotting the machine shop approaching. With a burst of speed, he arrived before the convoy, intending to clear the place before they arrived. While he had no reason to distrust the rogue hero, protocol must be followed.

However, it was to his realization as he slowly moved into the building and onto the work floor, that he would not need to do any of that.

Because right before him, in the middle of the work floor, sitting in a raised, throne-like chair, with her right leg folded over her left, and surrounded by the paper-encased bodies that floated in the air beside her as if they were mounted on an invisible wall.

He had to admit there was a stark difference between the photos and being in the presence of the woman. With her exotic, and daresay it, attractive looks, along with this quiet, calm intensity that seemed to cling to the atmosphere around her, she seemed much larger than her diminutive frame would suggest. Though, he had to wonder why suddenly, after every interaction previously, she would do something so cavalier as sit herself upon a throne. Had her successes and ego gotten the best of her?

"Dauntless," the woman greeted with a nod.

"Tenshi," he found himself responding, even as he scanned around the place, noticing the pile of weapons off to the side, and the trio of damaged tinker trucks behind her.

She then got up, the throne losing its color before peeling itself apart into individual paper-shaped butterflies that fluttered for a few brief moments before reattaching and absorbing themselves into her.

"I wish to inform you that I am recording this conversation."

Underneath his helmet, he blinked, not accustomed to that sort of statement. While state law established that two-party consent was required, there were exemptions to the law specifically in regards to the conduct of police action. In this case, Tenshi was not legally required to inform him.

"Of course. May I ask why you are informing me?"

"It'd only be polite," came the response, as she stopped a respectful distance from him, "I have captured seventeen unpowered members of the Merchants, along with Squealer and Mush. They are currently unconscious, three of the unpowered individuals will require medical treatment for broken bones. The less I say about the likely need for detox the better."

She then began floating them down in between them, arranging them in a line and removing the paper from their faces so he could visually identify them, "I hereby transfer custody of them to the Protectorate and Parahuman Response Team."

It was a bit more formal than he expected, but then again, they were being recorded. So with an all-clear signal, and one of the larger garage doors being opened, the armored members of the PRT moved in to take custody of the Merchants. Through it all, Dauntless was asking questions on how she had done it, but she, once again like in previous reports, remained frustratingly vague on how she achieved her success.

"Dauntless, this is Director Piggot, sitrep" came the voice of the Director of Protectorate ENE in his ear. The tilt of his head and the holding up his finger to both cut off Tenshi and inform her that he was receiving communication. That done, he stepped away and began briefing her.

Finishing after a few minutes, he was met with silence, before she finally spoke, her voice tight and hinting at her frustration, "Dauntless, in light of the accusations being leveled by Tenshi, I am ordering you to demand the identity of the cape she is claiming is committing crimes."

Processing what was being asked, his mouth ran faster than his brain, "Ma'am, I want you to confirm, you want me to demand that Tenshi completely violate the Unwritten Rules by identifying the civilian persona of one of our own?"

"I am. I will not allow the Unwritten Rules to shield a criminal in my ranks, if Tenshi's accusations are true. If they are not, then we will bury her. I also want you to attempt to get additional information if possible. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," came his response. It was a difficult line to walk, but in this case he found himself in agreement. He hadn't been able to read PHO after Tenshi's bombshell, but he would bet HQ was getting bombarded with people angry at the idea of corruption. Finding out who was crooked would go a long way in cooling some of the hotter heads.

Though it likely wouldn't do a lot of the people who agreed with Tenshi on the viewpoint of organizational indifference, as much as the idea personally hurt him.

With his marching orders conveyed, he spun around and walked back to Tenshi. Opening his mouth, he as—

"Shadow Stalker."

He froze, "How…"

She didn't answer right away, instead she held up an arm, bending it so it was level with her chest and the elbow jutted out and for a second he was confused until the the soft sound of flapping wings drew his attention as an owl descended from the rafters and onto her arm before turning into paper and melting into her.

Her lips curled up into a smirk, letting the implications sink in.

Well, that confirms a theory, he thought dryly. After Armsmaster, the idea had been floated that Tenshi could see and experience through her clones. It would explain why Tenshi never bothered to be there in person meeting with the Protectorate, but also seemed to coordinate her clones with military efficiency.

But now with the evidence that she could craft animals from her paper and use them much in the same way of her clones, that theory became even more alarming. Because if she could remotely access her paper constructs from a distance, then she could quite possibly put the entire city under surveillance.

And no one would be the wiser.

The smirk then faded from Tenshi's face into solemnity.

"I have a family that attends Winslow. Like any good kid in a place that was hostile to them they kept their head down, watched and listened. They told me of gang meetings, of plans. But they also told me of a teenager constantly bullied, belittled, and even physically assaulted by a trio of girls and their hanger-ons. They told me of an administration that looked the other way because it was easier to let one girl become a pariah instead of doing something about it."

"I am ashamed to admit that I did nothing until it was almost too late. I had been checking on the family when I witnessed these same bullies shove that poor girl into her own locker full of biological refuse that I only wish I could repress the memory of. I got that girl out of that locker and reached out to my contacts to see if there was something that could be done for. She may not be the gangs that I vowed to clean up, but how could I look at myself in the mirror if I ignored her circumstances. The last I heard, she's transferred to Arcadia and seems to be doing better. Even has a job working in a bookstore to help pay for the costs."

It was then she sighed, and began walking towards the doors as the PRT officers were finishing gathering up the Merchants. Dauntless found himself walking after her, maintaining his silence in horror at implications being laid out to him.

"I honestly thought that would be the end of it. Imagine my surprise when I was maintaining surveillance upon your PRT Headquarters in order to ensure that Hookwolf will make it to the Birdcage when you finally move him that I spot one of those very same bullies from before walking into the building like she owned the place. The first time I dismissed it, but when it happened on the second and third day, I realized that it wasn't a fluke. It was then that I caught sight of Shadow Stalker and realized that the girl and the so-called hero are one and the same."

As she finished her story, he wanted to cry foul at the fact that Tenshi was maintaining surveillance of the PRT (and more than likely the Protectorate), but there was nothing illegal about doing so. It was definitely treading dangerously to violating the Unwritten Rules, even if the intention was not to unmask capes. In this case, however, if the word was true, the unmasking was unintentional. However, the fact of the matter was he was too numb at the idea that the information that was being provided fit everything he did know about Shadow Stalker. The placement at Winslow, the character faults that were on full display every time she interacted with her fellow Wards, and the violence of her time as a rogue hero.

Still, there had to be one last hurdle to cross, as he turned to look at her.

"Can you provide me a name?"

For a moment, Tenshi remained silent, staring out into the dim lighting of the street. For a moment, he wondered (hoped), that this was all some fanciful tale, and that Tenshi had damned herself in her attempt at damaging the Protectorate.

But then she held up her right arm, her sleeve papering away to expose her wrist. Instead of unblemished skin, therein lay a strange script that he did not recognize surrounding a series of swirls and circles. It then slowly faded away until all that remained was raw, unmarked skin.

"I am no longer recording this conversation, Dauntless, because I don't want to give Shadow Stalker the benefit of any defense that could save her from her sins," Tenshi said, turning her head and pinning him with her burnt-orange eyes, "But I also don't want to provide you with an excuse to retaliate against me by recording her name in any format in which you do not control."

"I doubt the Protec-"

"I am violating the Unwritten Rules by telling you her name," Tenshi cut him off tonelessly, and that was probably worse than any emotional inflection, "Cape and civilian identities are meant to be kept separate in order to maintain at least some semblance of order in this chaotic world. In a perfect world, I would have approached the Protectorate and gladly handed you all of this information without putting it out on a public forum and I would have likely been thanked for my efforts and Shadow Stalker would be put in a cage where she belongs—"

"But you don't trust us."

"Why would I have any reason to? You were the ones that took her in, that tried to turn a violent vigilante into a Ward, but then didn't take the appropriate measures in ensuring that she didn't lapse or commit any crimes, instead you claimed she was rehabilitated and did nothing else," she snapped the last part, righteous indignation lacing her words, before taking a deep breath, obviously calming herself.

"If there is one universal constant of human interaction it's that public relations can make or break anyone or anything. The Protectorate's existence is entirely predicated on the mission statement that they are here to protect you from powered criminals. That they are uniquely qualified to combat criminal parahumans. Brockton Bay's Protectorate is even more dependent upon this belief than many of the other branches. Now, imagine a rogue hero, who, while effective, has shown a propensity for situationally disproportional violence and fixation on monetary gain according to some of their very own public statements, approaches the Protectorate with information revealing that the Ward that they were holding up as a poster-child for rehabilitation was committing crimes in her civilian persona. What do you think would happen?"

"We would investigate and, if guilty of those accusations, we would punish them to the fullest extent of the law."

She then held up a finger, waggling it, "But you forget, Shadow Stalker is a success story for Brockton Bay. Imagine what would happen if that success story was proven false. Can you imagine how much damage would be done to the image of the Protectorate in Brockton Bay? It was a major setback when Onager went off the reservation in Seattle. Here, in Brockton Bay, it would be catastrophic. You are in the middle of a war, even if you are loath to admit it. Too many people would ask too many hard questions that even if you answered they wouldn't likely believe you. Public faith would be hampered and the gangs would take advantage of it. After all, say what you will, but the gangs do keep their word, even if it is twisted."

"No," she sighed, "I've seen it far too many times to know what the Protectorate would do. Just like any other large bureaucratic organization when faced with a whistleblower. They would do their utmost to silence the whistleblower. And once they have silenced the whistleblower, either through discrediting or physical means, they would wait awhile and then have Shadow Stalker 'retire' stating nebulous reason for pursuing other life interests or something, or they would simply shell game her around until she met an 'unfortunate' accident, all the while the civilian persona would either be dead, or in jail where she belongs, and she can't argue otherwise because they will have 'wiped' every trace of evidence that she could ever claim she was who she claimed she was. It's so much easier than having to weather the storm of admitting that you as an organization fucked up."

It was a distressingly paranoid worldview, one that Dauntless wanted to argue against. He believed in the Protectorate and their mission. However, listening to her as she talked with such conviction he was almost certain that she was speaking from experience.

"You had it happen to you, didn't it?"

The small wan smile was all the confirmation needed.

"Different circumstances, similar results. You can never really expect for the very people who claim to care and protect you have interests that make you their enemy. It was a—," her expression becoming faraway, "life-altering experience."

Likely trigger event, he couldn't help but note, even as she collected herself. While he was not exactly keen on using information like this against her, he knew that he would have to report this to his superiors. Information like this could be helpful at least in possibly getting in her head, if not maybe identifying her.

"I don't trust the Protectorate to not look out for what's in its best interest. It may have actually surprised me and done the right thing, investigating and finding that my accusations are true. But in this business, it's better to be safe than sorry. Strike first, strike hard, no mercy was the mantra my sensei beat into my head when she trained me, and that was why I made the decision to post this on PHO, to prevent you from silencing me without repercussions. Now you have only one logical option available to you, investigate Sophia Hess, admit your mistake, and be better. Or don't, I'm prepared for that as well."

And with the revelation of the name, removing the last roadblock protecting against the accusations, and the admission that she was prepared for the chance that they wouldn't investigate, he knew that they would have to. Only an idiot would ignore the veiled threat hidden in those words. And there was a sinking sensation that what they were going to find would damn Shadow Stalker. One didn't take such a risk on the public forum unless they knew they had an airtight case, despite what his superiors may say.

It was sickening, the idea that Shadow Stalker had used and abused their trust. But maybe it was their fault that they didn't make the effort to ensure that she didn't fall back to her old ways. While he wasn't directly involved in the administration of the Wards, he did know that they took a rather hands-off approach to the entire situation, maybe that should also be fixed.

But this also hinted at something else, something about Tenshi. Honestly, he wished that he hadn't cottoned on as they talked, because it was those observations that made him anxious, even if he didn't show it. It was in the way she carried herself, the way she talked, the intensity that seemed to be in everything she did, and it was only cemented in that last statement. Something he had experienced enough of in his encounters over the years with the Empire 88.

Tenshi was a zealot. She believed so uncompromisingly in her sense of justice that she was willing to go against the Protectorate that she was working with. But perhaps more than that was that she was unequivocally more dangerous than the average zealot, because she cloaked herself within logic and experience, the type of things that would find the general populace of Brockton Bay eating out of her hand.

It was this recognition that drove him to wanting to ask the next question, because the Sophia Hess question was now over, one that he honestly wished he didn't have a feeling he already knew the answer to.

"I see," he finally said, turning away from her to look as the last of the Merchants were loaded away, and honestly, he did see it from her perspective. As twisted and as paranoid as it was, being a rogue hero had one of the highest mortality rates amongst capes. If one did not get absorbed into the Protectorate, then they had to rely upon themselves in order to survive and maintain their independence.

He had to get an answer to a question, even if it put him into an unenviable position to where he may have to make a difficult on-the-spot call because it would be expected of him. This was the first time they had been able to get anything in-depth on Tenshi, outside of her post on PHO. The more he was able to record of their conversation, the more they could possibly use against her in the future. Especially if she was aiming for what he thought she was.

"You know with what you've done to the Merchants, the other gangs are going to take advantage of this and move in on them."

However, he did not receive an immediate response, obviously his fellow cape was considering the question. He found himself slightly relaxing at the idea that maybe Tenshi's actions were not deliberate, that her intent wasn't to instigate a war between the gangs.

He then turned to look at her, only to find that she was no longer there.

 

[AlSmash]

Well, here we are. Next chapter, honestly, I imagined it going a lot differently when I first started envisioning it. I wanted to a type of tense atmosphere, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that was unrealistic. Another thing is portraying Piggot, the woman is a gruff anti-cape person, who has almost no faith in them thanks to Ellisburg. To suddenly have this indepedent mucking around and being effective would likely stick in her craw, especially since said independent is making waves and calling into question her leadership in a roundabout way.

So, I'm not sure if I got it all down, probably didn't, but it's a matter of I don't think I can do it any better so I'm going to post it. Even if I'm unhappy with it.

Next chapter will be the final chapter of the Awakening Arc, and the ending will give you a good idea on what the focus is going to be.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Awakening 1.z+1 Emily

The room was silent as a grave, all eyes set upon a single person sitting at the head of the table, her steel-grey eyes still locked upon the screen that had just finished playing Dauntless bodycam footage of his encounter with Tenshi.

They couldn't tell what she was thinking, her face a visage of implacable calmness, when many would likely be anything but calm after tonight's events.

If they only knew, Director Emily Piggot, her supposed calmness anything but. The silence was merely a cover as she mentally organized what needed to be done, and she put a lid upon her boiling fury that was just begging to be unleashed on this clusterfuck.

Because it was irrefutably a clusterfuck. She could have accepted intelligence dropping the ball on the Merchants, if that was the only thing. But what she couldn't stand was the collective shitstorm currently buffeting her office because Tenshi decided to publicize perceived malfeasance within her ranks.

And her fury wasn't necessarily directed towards Tenshi, even if she did take offense professionally at the rogue's broad trust issues with the PRT and, by extension, the Protectorate. But she could understand where the papyrokinetic was coming from, especially in light of her testimony. Realistically, what had the Brockton Bay PRT done to instill any faith in the general populace of Brockton Bay? Sure, they had one of the largest presences in Brockton Bay, but when you got down to the brass tacks of it all, they were, by every definition, a paper tiger. And no matter how hard she implored Washington for additional support and capes to take the fight to the ever-expanding gangs, she was either met with either silence or some form of tepid response that amounted to nothing, leaving her undermanned and stretched far too thin to do anything except hold the line. And even if she did wish to attack the gangs with everything she had, her hands were tied politically by the local government which would prevent her from taking any calculated risk, lest she fail.

It was this inability to do what should be done that led to her investment into the local Ward Program, in spite of her misgivings on raising child soldiers and depending upon capes in general. If Washington wasn't going to give her what she needed to do the job they gave her, then she was going to play the long game, slowly build up her forces, and cultivate the local talent until she could make the decisive action necessary to take back the city.

In addition to this, she had taken a softer standpoint on turning rogues and villains. Under normal circumstances, the only place she would have accepted Sophia Hess in would have been in a jail cell: The vigilante's usage of lethal munitions and contempt for others would have made her too much of a liability. However, it was one more body, and Armsmaster believed they could rehabilitate Shadow Stalker and turn her into an asset, she gave her okay, with the belief that Hess would be monitored for any relapses.

It seemed that somewhere along the road of reformation for Hess there had been a failure. One that she, and the Brockton Bay PRT, were now reaping the whirlwind for.

And one she was going to fix, starting right now.

She wasn't one to shy away from taking decisive action when it was warranted (and she had the opportunity to), and this was one of those. Maybe ruffling enough feathers would get some people to actually do something for once.

"Armsmaster, I want Sophia Hess in a containment cell, and I wanted it done five minutes ago."

She knew that the moment Colin Wallis' expression tightened, she was going to get resistance on the command and she honestly couldn't blame him. The Wards were technically his responsibility as the local head of the Protectorate, so Shadow Stalker's actions would reflect negatively upon him if the accusations were found to be true.

But it wouldn't be just him.

"Director," it was Deputy Director Marcus Rennick who was the first to speak, "are you sure it's wise to take the word of an unaffiliated rogue? All we have is hearsay, no physical proof, and even the hearsay would be flimsy at best because the person in question admitted they broke the Unwritten Rules. However unwittingly she claims she did so, she did violate them."

She made a point to keep her gaze on him even after he finished his point.

Marcus was the velvet glove to her iron fist, able to navigate and work within the local politics and able to soothe the feelings hurt by her directness. His political skills had been a considerable boon, but he honestly didn't have the spine to make the hard choices that came with the position of Director.

It also didn't help him in her view right now that he had also been involved in the Shadow Stalker situation, being part of the rehabilitation camp, as well as the one being in charge of the assignment of her handler. Which if Tenshi's word was true, was likely where they were going to find the heart of the systemic failure once Hess was excluded from the equation.

"Miss Militia, outside of Armsmaster, you have had the most interaction with the Wards. Would you agree with me that there is possible veracity in Tenshi's claims."

"There is Director," came the response after a moment's hesitation from the military-fatigue wearing second-in-command of the Brockton Bay Protectorate, "despite efforts to curtail some of Shadow Stalker's more negative aspects, she still remains verbally abusive and dismissive to her peers. Considering her previous record of violence, it's possible, even likely, that the claims may have merit."

She let that linger in the air, her gaze coming back to Renick and Armsmaster.

"Under normal circumstances, I would not give a rogue, even one with heroic leanings, the time of day, let alone be an audience to the claim that one of my own may be guilty of criminal action. However, these are not normal circumstances."

"What we have here is a cape whose power set classification seems to increase every single time she sorties to where they are talking about scrapping her current classification and rating her a Trump. This same cape has landed the likes of Squealer, Mush, and Hookwolf in our containment cells, crippled the Merchants as an effective gang, and upset the balance of power in Brockton Bay all by herself in the span of a month."

"The fact of the matter is we cannot ignore these accusations she has leveled against Hess, even the evidence we have so far is hearsay. Tenshi has amassed too much public goodwill for her to throw it away by making up a lie, nor would she make an effort like this unless she had evidence that she could use if we choose to ignore her accusations or act against her. This excludes the fact that she may take a hostile stance against us, which, considering her power set, would make her a significant unconventional threat that would be difficult to contain."

And to be grudgingly honest, it was a brilliant, if underhanded, move. By publicly airing wrongdoing by the Brockton Bay PRT in a public forum, she was limiting the actions they could take to minimize the damage. If they chose to ignore her, or go against her, then she could take what evidence, which was likely rather damaging, public, and any action that she took against the local PRT could be construed as justified. Just the idea of a cape with Tenshi's known skills, and quite a few that they were guessing, would be a security nightmare.

No, as much as she loathed the idea of catering to any parahuman, they could ill afford the negative publicity and burning bridges with a skilled independent hero at the same time. It was better to take a black eye over Hess, find a scapegoat, and move on.

"We're going to do this by the book. Hess is too much of a flight risk to leave her free, I want her in a cell, Armsmaster, now," her gaze shifted as Armsmaster got up to fulfill her order, "Miss Militia, I want you to take an investigation team to Winslow first thing in the morning. Find out who it was that Hess put in that locker. I want to know how deep this goes: who was involved, was Winslow's administration covering it up, don't leave a single stone unturned. Then I want you to track down the alleged locker victim and interview her as well."

"What about Tenshi's admitted ties, should we investigate the business that supposedly hired the purported victim, " Renick asked, writing on a notepad, obviously preparing for what needed to be done since she had set her mind to this course of action.

It was a good question though, while there was nothing illegal in what Tenshi did, it could be another possible insight into the mysterious cape's identity.

"Don't dig too deep," she finally conceded, "but see if there may be something there."

It was a long shot, of course, but you never knew what you may find unless you looked. Not that Tenshi could be offended if they looked in on it, she was the one that revealed the information in the first place.

"What about if the accusations are true about Hess," it was Renick again, "how do we break it to the press?"

That was an excellent question, but one that was left with very little flexibility on what could be done. In this case, as much as it pained her to day this, direct honesty would probably be the best path to take.

"We admit we made a mistake," she started simply, before expanding upon it, "make it clear that despite her interactions with her peers, which we can write off as a quirk of her personality, we had acceptable reports from the officer put in charge of the oversight on Hess' civilian persona and Hess hadn't done anything that we were aware of that could be construed as a violation of her rehabilitation. If it wasn't for Tenshi we would have been unaware of the actual truth."

"If the investigation reveals the truth, do we want to push the severity of the crime?"

"Yes," she admitted, causing Renick to look up from his notes, while Miss Militia seemed to focus more upon her, "You've both looked at the reports of each of Tenshi's actions, it's obvious she has military training. But outside of the few encounters she has had with the Empire 88 and the ABB, she has focused almost solely upon the Merchants, to the tune of almost a dozen different confrontations that have been reported."

"Originally, it was thought that her focus upon the Merchants stemmed from some personal animosity she had against them. Now, with revelations of this evening on her ability to maintain a surveillance network, I think the likelier reason was because she was using those encounters to gather information and make the Merchants play into her hands. We need to start thinking of Tenshi as a capable tactician and strategist who also has powers. If she's willing to take a risk in making accusations against the PRT, she likely has a lot more than just her hearsay to back it up. It puts her in a disadvantageous state otherwise that would do away with what goodwill she has built with the local populace. If we aren't transparent and thorough in our investigation, then it's likely she will release this information."

And it was galling, because they were caving to an independent, the only salve to this entire shitshow was it might provide some inroads to Tenshi herself. It was not exactly the most optimal of scenarios, as she would very much prefer Tenshi be under her command, but she could live with an independent hero that was suitably more effective than what she was currently saddled with.

There was still the chance, albeit rather small, that this was still a long con by Tenshi to lower their guard. However, her gut instinct was telling her that it didn't make sense as she would have incurred more damage if she were to join the PRT than continue to choose to operate outside it.

But that brought her back to another thought, a long shot, but maybe they should look into Tenshi's military training itself. And it was military training and not any sort of amateur mockery of it. Considering her cape name, age, and race, it may be that she was a former member of the JSDF, it'd fit the time frame considering the exodus from Japan in '99 after Leviathan sank Kyushu brought a lot of Japanese expats to the United States. There was also a significant amount of illegal entrants from Japan as well. It may well be that Tenshi was one of those. It was a long shot, but the relationship between the two nations was strong enough that if asked right they may be able to run facial recognition to see if they could get a match.

But it was certainly better than fumbling blindly in the dark making guesses on what Tenshi was planning to do with incomplete information. Her non-answer at intentionally starting a gang war was worrisome.

Which was why it was becoming more important that they discover her identity. With that sort of information it would cease being guesswork and they would be able to maybe get ahead of the game instead of simply reacting.

"We will need Tenshi's testimony as well," she turned to look at Miss Militia, "see if you reach out to Tenshi in order to get her to come in."

And they could use that to ask other questions of her. Like what her overall intentions were, outside of the blatantly obvious, but also how she intended to achieve it. If they could get ahead of it, maybe they could at least liaise with her. She didn't like the idea of taking a step back from another cape, but they could not exactly detain her according to law as long as she was following the law. Even if the incident with the brothel owner was excessive, it was still within the mandate set by the Parahumans Act, further codified by subsequent court rulings.

"I'll probably have to contact her via PHO, if you're okay with it Director."

Because it's not like they could predict the next time they would see her and ask her to come in, was left unsaid.

"Do it. The sooner we can get her testimony, the better. Dismissed."

WIth that, Miss Militia got up and headed out of the conference room. It was now just Renick and herself, but for this it would likely be the best anyways.

"We need to get back ahead on this, Marcus," she admitted, "I don't like dancing to the tune of a cape, let alone an independent. What can we do to change the optics?"

"Not a lot," was her deputy director's response, "I have a feeling I'll be receiving a phone call from the Mayor's office first thing in the morning demanding an explanation on the Hess thing, and it'll probably get louder once it goes public what happened last night with the Merchants. They may have been a small-time gang, but they were hated by everyone, even the other criminals."

Which was probably part of the reason why Tenshi targeted them in the first place. It was a public relations coup for her to cripple them, especially in a city that was as wracked by crime as it was, and they were small enough for her to work over quickly. It lent credibility to her belief that it was part of a larger plan that was beginning to ramp up.

"What are your thoughts on her not answering Dauntless' question on instigating a gang war? Do you think she's aiming for that?"

In her mind, there was no doubt. Tenshi by herself was unlikely to be able to roll up either of the gangs by herself, and since she wasn't turning to the Protectorate, that meant she likely had some sort of plan in place. A plan that was rather obvious, when you thought about it, getting the two major gangs in Brockton Bay to bloody and weaken themselves on one another would provide opportunities that would normally not be there.

Of course, if one was willing to dismiss the collateral damage.

"Emily, no matter what, sooner or later, Brockton Bay was going to see a full-blown gang war," Renick finally responded, causing her to be surprised, normally he wasn't this blunt, "either we were going to instigate it by hitting them, they were going start it by just deciding to hell with the status quo or they believe they have some sort of advantage that they didn't have, or there was going to be a third party that did it. Either way, you and I both know that we as an organization have merely kept Brockton Bay on the precipice by showing the flag and making the idea of war unpalatable rather than being flung off it. No matter how much we beg and plead with Washington for additional resources, they ignore us even as the situation worsens. It's only been a matter of time before we reached this state."

He then sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"If what you're asking me is if we can take advantage of all of this: The answer is I don't really know. The hopeful part of me prays that we can with minimal casualties, but the realistic part of me, that knows this damned city, knows I'm just lying to myself. If the Empire 88 and ABB go at it, all we can do is try and limit the damage and force them back into their holes. Maybe we'll score a few victories, but the fact of the matter is, regardless of what happens, it will be another pyrrhic victory for us, if we're lucky."

But he wasn't done yet.

"I know what you're thinking Emily, I've worked with you long enough to know just what you're planning if Tenshi comes in. Maybe we can get her to slow down, maybe we'll get lucky and she'll work directly with us. The intelligence she could gather by herself with those paper clones of hers are the sort of thing that our intelligence would give their firstborn for. But that still doesn't solve the matter of Tenshi herself. Dauntless called her a zealot, and he's right in a way, but he's got the context of it wrong. Zealots are obsessive to the point where they are unwilling to compromise, or even work with others that don't share her beliefs. I don't know what happened to that young woman, but whatever it is, it has made her committed to this course of action, the best we can do is make sure that whatever happens, Brockton Bay is still standing after she's done."

"And if we choose to step in and stop her."

He looked back to the display that still showed Tenshi.

"You keep making a point that she's a soldier, Emily. Do you really want our capes pitted against someone like this? Especially one we still haven't figured out just what she is capable of?"

No, was the honest response. And it was a galling thought, to say the least, but she didn't have faith that any of the capes under her command could win in a stand-up fight with Tenshi, and that situation would only be on the off-chance they were able to deprive Tenshi of the advantage of surprise. Left unsaid would likely be the public upheaval of going against a heroic cape, even if she was independent. There were plenty of conspiracy nuts out there who played on the idea that the PRT's entire charter was a thinly veiled attempt to place all parahumans under their control, and if they refused, they would be caged or killed.

Going against Tenshi, especially after tonight, would only add fuel to that fire, despite her own feelings on the fact that honestly, that should be the PRT's goal. But she wasn't the one calling the shots in Washington.

It was as she was about to answer Marcus on her feelings that her phone rang. She picked it up almost immediately, having a bad feeling about this, as a call directly to her was a serious matter.

"Director Piggot."

"Director," it was Armsmaster on the phone, which only caused the lead balloon in her stomach to sink further, "Sophia Hess is no longer in the building, Clockblocker confirms that she signed off about twenty minutes ago to go to the restroom and security tagged her leaving the building eight minutes after that. I'm currently recalling all Protectorate members to begin a manhunt for her."

 

[AlSmash]

So here we are, the last chapter of the Awakening Arc. Not exactly the happiest with it, but I think it culminates what I've been aiming for in the end.

Enjoy.

Awakening 1.z+2 Sophia

While there were many things that she hated under the yoke of the PRT, in the top three of those was Console Duty.

Oh, it served a purpose, that had been drilled into her head repeatedly. The supposed idea that being stationed on the console provided them a better understanding of the what and why that took place in the decision process for if they were given authorization to intercede or not.

But it was a load of bullshit in her estimation. A total waste of their abilities to plant their asses behind a desk when they could be actually doing their damn job and putting down criminals. Let the worthless Wards do console duty if they were so obsessed with having a Ward do it, like Vista or Clockblocker.

Instead, the idiots had her sitting at a console, having to suffer through listening to Clockblocker talk incessantly about Tenshi's PHO debut. The fact that the idiot hadn't caught on that she was ignoring him only further serving to sour her mood.

But the cherry on the top of her ever-mounting irritation that had reached the point of seething was the subject matter of Clock's chatter.

If anyone ever accused her of being even the slightest bit envious of the newest "hot" cape, she'd punch them in the throat and take satisfaction in watching them choke on their breath. However, she'd willingly admit that Tenshi was doing what they should be doing, hunting down criminals and their cliques and putting them down with prejudice. Like what she just did to the Merchants. Not doing photo-ops, meet and greets, and patrols meant to make people feel safe and not necessarily place Wards at a high level of risk.

And certainly not sitting on their asses doing fuck-all but wait for something to happen. And then watch and do nothing while the so-called "heroes" do just better than jack-shit, all the while the criminal capes get away.

And they wondered why people are finding the new cape exciting, she thought angrily, maybe they should look in a mirror.

It was to her relief that the vibration of her phone in her pocket drew her out of a fantasy where she drove one of her crossbow bolts through his right eye.

Honestly, it would have been a waste of a bolt anyways, she thought with a hint of dark amusement as she fished her phone from her pocket and lit the screen, idly noting it was a message from Emma before unlocking it.

Have you read this?

Read what?

http://www.parahumans.net/forums/threads/i-am-tenshi-ask-me-anything.521271/page-5#710432318/

Fighting back her irritation at Emma of all people linking her to PHO, she ran her thumb over the link, causing her phone to open up the PHO app.

Reading what Emma had linked her, her irritation slowly turned into wariness as she reread it a second time. It was as she finished that her thoughts were racing, going over one specific pair of paragraphs over and over in her head.

I will state that if Protectorate East-North-East truly cared about the people of Brockton Bay, they would take a good, hard look into the conduct of their heroes, Protectorate and Wards alike.

I have a feeling that they will find that their so-called heroes are not as clean as they would hope they would be.

Her initial thought was confusion at who they could be referring to. It was laughable the idea that any of the Protectorate would be guilty of anything. They were straight-laced to the point that they either had a stick up their ass , or were too much of a pussy to get their hands dirty, obsessed with doing everything 'by the book'.

So then her thoughts wandered to the Wards, and it was there that her concern was ratcheting higher. Because she couldn't imagine any of them would be doing something stupid enough to gain the attention of the cape that had rolled up the Merchants.

It was as she reviewed the information again, wanting to deny the niggling feeling that was settling in her stomach, that another text arrived from Emma.

Do you think she talked to Tenshi?

For a second it didn't register who Emma was referring to before it clicked, and the confusion quickly morphed to a hot fury, before it channeled into something far colder as it all suddenly made a sickening sort of sense.

While to Emma and herself, what they had done to Emma's former friend, Taylor Hebert was nothing more than a collection of jokes and bullying meant to satisfy the redhead. But to the assholes that held her chains, what was simply harmless bullying was likely something worse in their sanctimonious opinion.

Though, she knew in truth that they only cared if they were caught, as her case worker had known about the bullying and had written it off simply as a teenager thing, instead choosing to protect her cushy job. And the school administration enjoyed the injection of cash from the PRT by hosting her in the school, so they were pretty much in the same boat, except it was in their best interest to minimize Hebert.

However, after they had shoved in that locker, Hebert had changed seemingly overnight. From gaining weight and muscle, to having a quiet confidence that seemed completely unassailable no matter what they said or tried. For a weakling like that to make a sudden change like that had made no sense—

Unless she suddenly found herself someone who could make her into what she was now.

She didn't know how Hebert encountered Tenshi, but in her mind, it made a lot more sense than Hebert suddenly doing an about face in her entire personality: from cowed prey to a predator that caused even her hackles to rise.

And that bitch had the gall to sell her out to Tenshi, who was now airing that laundry onto PHO?

There was only one way to respond to this.

Getting to her feet, she stalked to the door that would lead out of the Console room, stopping at the door to allow it to automatically open as it sensed her presence.

"Hey, where are you going," Clockblocker called out.

"Restroom," she snapped, not even deigning to look back as she strode down the hallway, phone in hand, rapidly texting back to Emma.

Yes.

That simple response encapsulated every single emotion that was threatening to break loose even as she continued her course, already figuring out what her options were, which were distressingly few.

There was no doubt that her current leash-holders were going to bray for her blood the moment Tenshi talked. They only cared about their appearance and not doing what they were supposed to be doing and put the trash in their proper place. Tenshi whining to them about what happened to Hebert would no doubt be enough of an excuse for Piggy to put her ass in juvy, considering the fat bitch had made apparent her dislike for her.

No, there really was only one option available for her, and that was to go to ground. However, before that, she concluded, the front doors to the PRT Headquarters opening in front of her and granting her access to the outside, she had a score to settle.

Bringing up her phone, she typed out a response to Emma, one that she had never expected to have to say, but she wasn't stupid enough not to plan it.

Wipe your phone and computer. Tell Madison to do the same. I'll contact you later.

With that, she pocketed the phone and transitioned into her shadow state, intent on reminding Hebert just who was the top dog one final time.

AND​

It had taken her over an hour to reach the Hebert household, partially because she had to hit one of her stashes to arm up. It would have raised too many flags for the PRT if she were to suddenly arm herself before leaving. Still, even if it had been a delay, it allowed her to switch out those stupid tranquilizer bolts for her broadhead ones and a pair of knives.

And it appeared that no one had informed Hebert either, as the household was dark, only the moonlight providing any ambient light to see. Perfect for slipping in and out without anyone noticing before it was far too late.

Phasing once again once she was close enough, she landed upon the roof right in front of the window where Hebert's room was. She had made it a point to recon the place last year, in the event she would have to do what she was doing now. Collecting herself, and ensuring that she was still remaining silent, she peered into the window, noting angrily that Hebert was tucked in her bed, blissfully unaware of the bullshit she had put her through.

Just the vision before her caused her to change her plans. Putting a bolt through the bitch's face wasn't enough, it was too clean, she wanted the snitch to suffer, to know that she brought all of this upon herself because she couldn't fucking accept the reality of her life. That she was prey.

Withdrawing a knife from her sheathe, she shifted again, phasing through the window and coming to a stop at the head of Hebert's bed, looking down upon the teenager one more time. The fact that she hadn't even reacted to her presence was the final nail in the coffin of her opinion for the girl, as her face curled into a visage of hatred, before she ripped the blankets off her body. Grabbing at the girl's hair, she yanked up, taking satisfaction at the fact that girl was just waking up with a yell, and exposed her neck, before drawing her knife across her neck, making sure to cut to the bone.

"Release."

Her eyes widened at the soft voice, one that was too familiar, before everything became white light. The next thing she knew she was on the ground, blinded, and her entire being was both agony and fire, the acrid hot smell of ozone clinging in the air.

What the hell just happened was repeating over in her head, even as the conscious part of her that wasn't screaming internally at the pain could hear paper fluttering in the air causing her to immediately figure out what happened.

Fighting to resist curling up into a ball, because she knew if she did, she was dead, she fought her body up, reaching for her crossbow and looked up, bleary vision catching the sight of Tenshi sitting on the bed, her leg crossed, burnt orange eyes glowing in the dark.

It was enough of a sightline as she brought up her crossbow and fired, the bolt flying straight and true and right into the forehead of Tenshi, head snapping back at the force of the bolt. Sophia forced herself to her feet, unsteady legs just barely managing her weight as she turned and began shuffling towards the window as she willed her body to shift into her breaker state.

"Activate," that damnable soft voice caused her metaphorical eyes to widen, as she was once again wracked with pain. The only thing she could do was to pull herself away from the pain and stumble back into the bedroom and onto the ground, no longer able to resist the urge to curl up into a ball, tears leaking from her eyes.

"You know, I should be thanking you," came the voice again, no longer a whisper, and through all of the pain her mind finally realized that it wasn't Tenshi's voice, but was Taylor Hebert's. She didn't have enough time to even respond before the fluttering of paper was a dull roar, and she found her limbs wrapped in paper and she was pulled upright.

There, sitting in Tenshi's place on the completely unblemished bed, was Taylor Hebert with a crossbow bolt still lodged in her head, like a macabre third eye.

"Hebert," she rasped, her throat impossibly dry.

"Getting trapped in that locker was probably the best thing you could have ever done for me" Hebert continued, reaching up to her head, and slowly withdrew it, before dropping it onto the ground with a soft thunk as metal met wood, "without that, I would have been—weak."

"You are weak," she snapped, before trying to phase herself out of her paper bonds, only to be wracked by more pain as electricity was run through her.

"Maybe I am," was the murmured response, her gaze shifting to the side as she seemed to lose herself in thought, "but what does that say about what's between us right now, Sophia. I was willing to let go of the past, leave Emma and you in the dust, let you rot in your pettiness and hate for the world as it changes around you."

"I guess it's our weakness that has brought us to this point," Taylor continued, looking back to her as a decision was seemingly made "you, in your hate, selfishness, and need to prove yourself superior, and my own need for any advantage I can gain."

Leaning down, Taylor picked up the crossbow bolt, palming it contemplatively before she rose to her feet. As Sophia opened her mouth to say something, paper closed over it, leaving her screams muffled as she realized exactly what was about to happen, as she struggled and fought with bonds that were simply too strong to be paper.

Taylor came to a stop before her, reaching up and removing her mask, before tossing it aside.

"A troubled, but wise friend, once said that "We are but men, drawn to act in the name of revenge we deem to be justice. However, if there is justice in vengeance, then justice will breed only more vengeance. And trigger a cycle of hatred". I wanted to forgive you, truly, but I find that I can't afford to after this. So thank you, Sophia, for allowing me to break this one cycle of hatred. Goodbye."

Everything seemed to slow down as Taylor's left hand came up, the broadhead bolt gleaming in the moonlight as she held it off to the side. Then time seemed to speed up again, as it came straight towards her. There was a brief sensation of contact as her brain only had moments to process what was happening.

And then there was nothing.