Gromweld
Learning By Mistake
The Battle For Brockton Bay: The Cavalry
[X] "With Alexandria and the other heavy-hitters to give her some breathing room, Weaver was finally able to make it back to the rest of us at the command center. She didn't act as banged-up as she looked, but it was still a little creepy the way she spoke to everyone through all those different bug bodies while she floated above."
- [x] Stunt: "Weaver knew exactly what to do: which Thinkers to ask for on-the-fly intel; where to best locate everyone; which Movers to task with repositioning our forces; which Shakers and Breakers could control the battlefield; how to combine us into a force that could counter anything the Herokiller did. But most of all, she started handing out her Thinker power - a game-changer, if I ever saw one."
- [x] Stunt: "With communications down, Weaver brought order back to the field by taking over the command center. Her insect swarms and Thinker power allowed her to strategize and issue different tasks to several people at once. Soon order was starting to be restored, and by practical delegation and using a clever combination of cape powers, she expanded her chain of command to the field too."
XP Expenditures:
[X] 2 XP - War (Swarms ●●○)
[X] 2 XP - Lore (Parahumans ●●○)
[X] 2 XP - Athletics (Power Armor ●○○)
***
Despite – or, perhaps in spite of – Alexandria and Dragon's one-two combo, Behemoth is up on his feet in seconds and still lashing out lightning bolts in your direction. You've struggled out of the ruins of the three-story office building that had partly crumbled on you from the shockwave of those last attacks, so you're able to dodge the shots as you accelerate to the edge of his two-thousand foot range; you're not certain if the appearance of reinforcements is going to cause Behemoth to go back to his more potent arsenal, but you're not interested in taking those chances.
Just as you're about to reach his maximum range, however, dozens of capes suddenly appear in a flash of light below you, arrayed in a defensive 'V' formation. At their head, Narwhal, the greatest forcefield user in the world, a nearly-seven foot tall woman in a shimmering bodysu-
No, those are scale-sized forcefields all around her body. Well, that certainly explains how she gets so much… lift for her assets. The two-foot long horn of curled, shimmering forcefields atop her head almost distracts from her otherwise-naked appearance.
Larger, opaque forcefields appear in an instant around the massive group of capes, just in time for a wicked blast of electrical current to smash into the foremost shield. The bolt cascades harmlessly off the dome of shields – now being augmented with different-colored forcefields that are the mark of other shield-using capes – but the first shield is nearly transparent after absorbing that first shot.
The cacophonous shockwaves and rumblings of the fight down the street increase as beams of brilliant blue and eye-searing red streak down to coincide with Alexandria's most recent impact, heralding the appearance of Legend – the world's greatest laser-wielding artillery – and Eidolon – the man with every power in the world, but only three at a time. You had an idea to loan Eidolon and Legend your Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade, but you're not certain you'd last long enough to get close to them at the moment, what with the wild display of powers filling the air around them.
"Weaveaaaahhh!"
You barely make out your name being shouted by multiple people over the sounds of the battle raging down the street, as well as the terrified exclamations of people reacting to your anima banner as you streak overhead, and note the Brockton Bay Wards assembled near the middle of the expanding group of capes. They're joined by the full roster of Brockton Bay's Protectorate, both families of New Wave, and rounded out by Chevalier, Rime, and Mouse Protector.
You nod curtly in their direction, more focused on another group of Brockton Bay residents in the crowd off to the side: the Undersiders, astride their monstrous, van-sized dog-rhino-boar… things. You don't see Lisa – Tattletale – in their group, though. Maybe she's at the command center?
Your consciousnesses are so busy pouring over your mental lists of capes present, trying to catalog their powers and affiliations, and hoping that they rapidly get over the terror your anima display is causing, that the lone consciousness you have dedicated to body control barely reacts in time to avoid getting blasted out of the sky by another arc of superheated plasma. The bolt surges through your suit and sears into your skin through the many layers of ablative coating, before continuing on its path to blast out a sizable chunk of an low-rent apartment complex farther up the street.
Your suit's computers wink out briefly, but long enough to send you tumbling as you reel, twitching in agony from hundreds of thousands of volts that just coursed through your frame. Enough of your threads of consciousnesses are able to bear through the pain to guide your corkscrewing body away from the lightposts and streetlights as you tumble towards the pavement, giving your suit's computers time to kick in and right your flight trajectory.
As your mind assesses the damage presented by the suit's HUD, you breathe a sigh of relief as it doesn't appear to have disabled any of the suits various modules, nor caused any lasting damage to the suit's power cells. Through the insects that you're able to see through at the moment, your suit doesn't even look like it took that much damage – just a bit of carbon scoring near the feet where the bolt entered.
As the lingering twitches in your limbs and neck subside, you don't feel too much worse – about the same as when you were shot on Monday, really. This surprises you, as you honestly thought you'd be a goner if any of Behemoth's bolts hit you. Could you have been tanking hits like this to let people escape the shelters? Did you not take as much damage because you were airborne and in a quasi-Faraday cage? Or, more likely, was the fact that you were near Behemoth's range limit save you this time?
Idly, one of your consciousnesses notices that a contrail of white smoke (visible because of the contrast against the black smoke of your anima) is flowing from your hair. You can't bring yourself to care about such a superficial concern at the moment, but a quiet part of you acknowledges that once-upon-a-time it would have been deeply distressing.
You've long-since sailed past the dispersing group of capes, but just as you're about to turn around and try to make your way back to the group of Brockton Bay Heroes a four-legged mechanical titan plunges out of the sky above you on massive plumes of fire. Easily larger than two PRT trucks combined and bristling with missiles larger than your suit, the only reason you don't immediately move to dash out of the way of the oncoming machine of war is the fact that it's broadcasting your name in a familiar voice: female, synthesized, and with a hint of a Canadian accent.
"Weaver!"
This time, you make certain to duck down in between a few buildings before slowing your pace. As you do so, the enormous Dragonsuit navigates its descent to keep a few hundred feet apart – your form still pouring out streaks of blue-and-black lightning, acrid black plumes of smoke, and the echoing, whispered cries of tortured souls fills the air around you, so you suspect Dragon doesn't want her suit to freak out like everyone else did as you passed over their heads.
The Endbringer fight nearly a mile away is still loud enough to rattle the building you're currently standing atop. The streets echo with fierce roars, defiant battlecries, and blood-curdling screams, so you turn your meager suit speakers up to full volume to try to communicate with Dragon – Behemoth's interference still too strong at this range to allow for stable suit-to-suit communication.
"Dragon. Behemoth destroying shelters. Attempting to draw me out. Shelters must be evacuated."
Looking down at the quadrupedal Endbringer Dragonsuit as it lands on the street below you, it's difficult to judge Dragon's reaction to your concise summary of current events beyond the long pause before her response. Certainly she must understand the need for efficiency in both speech and action in such a dire time?
The humanoid torso rising from the middle of the quad-legged frame rocks back and forth in an approximation of a nod or bow, though Dragon's voice sounds slightly strained as she turns back towards the fight.
"Report back to the command center at PRT Headquarters, downtown. We have a plan, but we need to know everything you've been doing. We'll hold Behemoth off for now."
"Understood."
You nod curtly to ensure visual confirmation of your affirmation and then engage your suit's anti-gravity wings to propel you at maximum speed towards Downtown.
Behind you, the night sky bleeds fire and smoke as Brockton Bay burns and parahumans die.
***
Not even a minute into your flight, your re-established swarm senses discover that the more populated districts of Brockton Bay are now almost hopelessly swamped with panicked civilians still struggling to get to shelters. PRT and Emergency Response helicopters whirl overhead, broadcasting directions to people streaming into Endbringer shelters. All the usual fliers and notices repeat that people must only carry what they need to live with them to the shelters (medical equipment, primarily), but as always you see people carrying pets, luggage, and even computer towers or TVs.
As you streak high through the air to avoid terrifying more people with your still-active anima, you occasionally notice Movers – mostly teleporters – popping in and out of the crowd to help break up congestion in areas and get people that are losing their senses back to reality. There appear to be a few mass-teleporters available for the fight, as evidenced by the largest groups suddenly disappearing into thin air, but judging by the throngs of people still flooding the streets they're barely making a dent in the evacuation. Would they benefit from your Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade? Something worth checking when you get to PRT Headquarters.
Almost six minutes into your flight you note through the bugs in Iris' Shard of Perfect Administration range that the wayward Eye has made his way to your home and is rapidly tearing apart your room in a flurry of spindly mechanical arms. Judging by the continued feelings of frustration and anticipation, he's still not yet found the object of his search. Your house otherwise is exactly how you last left it, almost three and a half weeks ago.
Streaming bugs through the slightly-open window in your room, you finally manage to coalesce a swarm large enough through which to speak to Iris.
"Iris of Innovation. Halt. Please."
[Comprehension.][Satisfaction.][Frustration.][Anticipation.]
You have a number of different questions for Iris at this moment, but deference to his current train thought will most likely provide you the greatest results in the smallest amount of time.
"Clarify objective of search. Please. Walls authorized for written explanation."
[Comprehension.][Satisfaction.][Incomprehension.][Agreement.]
[Comprehension.][Satisfaction.][Hesitation.]
"1700 yards West. 400 yards North. Winslow High School. Central building. First floor. Locker 823."
[Comprehension.][Satisfaction.][Resolution.]
With a sharp series of clicks, the pencil-thin arms of Iris' cover snap closed and the Eye of Autochthon speeds off down, and then out of the house. He takes to the air, avoiding the still-busy streets filled with shouting civilians struggling on foot and in gridlocked cars to evacuate the usual shelters.
***
The northern parking lot adjacent to the squat, six-story PRT Headquarters is the first sign of parahuman activity you've seen in your final minutes of flying. You attempted to prepare yourself for what would await you at the presume combat control center in downtown while you flew; would it be a beehive of activity, or a desolate and grim command center that awaited you?
Unfortunately, you did not anticipate that the makeshift medical tent would be the first thing to pop into your swarm-aided senses. While the inside the of the tent is, unsurprisingly, completely empty of insects you nevertheless hear the screams of pain and sorrow through those insects surrounding and above the fracas.
As you move closer, the entirety of the staging area expands into your subconscious senses, showing the primary hub of activity to be closer towards the PRT HQ itself, a large tent extending from the wall of the faded-white building to cover most of the parking lot not already owned by the extension of the PRT HQ's medical wing. Inside, from the few flies, spiders, and cockroaches that had intruded without notice, you're able to see almost a dozen costumed parahumans pouring over maps of Brockton Bay as a whole and of the Docks in particular.
Your swarm sense makes out what is being displayed on the projection screen set up against the PRT HQ's wall, slowly scrolling up through an updating list of names, numbers, and statuses. As you subconsciously direct more insects towards the list, all six consciousnesses in your mind cast aside their other tasks to focus on the digital cenotaph.
Uglymug deceased, AX-11 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Alabaster deceased, AX-11 - UNRECOVERABLE
Frenetic down, AX-11 - REDEPLOYED
Dauntless deceased, AB-12 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Meian down, AX-12 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Blossom deceased, AX-12 - RECOVERED, REVIVED
Oni Lee down, AX-12 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Skelmer deceased, AX-13, RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Quark down, AX-13 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Folstam down, AW-13 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Zechstein down, AW-13 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Browbeat deceased, AW-14 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Cuff down, AW-15 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Tecton down, AW-15 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Grue deceased, AX-15 - RECOVERED, STABILIZED
Furrow down, AX-15 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Glory Girl deceased, AX-15 - UNRECOVERABLE
Brandish down, AX-16 - HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Menja deceased, AX-16 - RECOVERED
Kaiser down, AX-16 - RECOVERED
Annex deceased, AX-16 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Mama Bear deceased, AY-16 - RECOVERED
Saurian deceased, AY-16 - RECOVERED
Grace down, AZ-16 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Arbiter deceased, AZ-16 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Oni Lee down, BA-16 - RECOVERED
Trickster deceased, BA-16 - RECOVERED
Clockblocker deceased, AY-17 - RECOVERED, STABILIZED
Cloister deceased, AX-17 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Jinnter deceased, AX-17 - UNRECOVERABLE
Myrddin down, AW-10 - RECOVERED
Even as you watch, floating a few hundred feet in the air above the command center as you take stock of the casualties, the list updates again with a flickering of of the projection screen. Kaiser, Oni Lee, and Myrrdin are back on the field, but all those marked as deceased - Menja, Trickster, Mama Bear, and Saurian - are now listed as "UNREVIVABLE".
Your clock shows 11:48PM. It's only been twelve minutes since you left the battlefield, and already fourteen are dead.
But your mind cares little for the hopes, dreams, and families lost in this brutal calculus of war. No, that would be a waste of their sacrifice to sink down, hug your knees to your chest, and weep - like you see Panacea doing behind the medical tent. Those still in the command center tent are grim and strung-out, and you can already see the pressure of the task before them wearing down upon their shoulders.
You begin a small loop around the area, high above the floodlight-lit camps that squat against the PRT Headquarters. Your mind is calculating the names and faces you saw gathered in the large mass that teleported to battle Behemoth, reviewing known abilities and combat tactics. In your split consciousnesses, you group capes with similar powers, or maybe design small squads based on specific tactics, or even just allow some capes the freedom to cut loose like they've never done before. But by the time you have swept the seven blocks all around the PRT Headquarters and filled the sky with millions of insects, you are finally ready to bring your knowledge to bear on the battle at-hand.
Alighting atop the PRT Headquarters, you have your sky-blanketing swarm fan out to give you total coverage of your Shard of Perfect Administration's range, and then solidify the extra mass of bugs a half-dozen swarm-clones. Bringing them to flank you as you hover down into the camp, you are unsurprised by the startled exclamations and shouts at your approach.
Still radiating a swirling void of light around you, you ignore the droplets of luminous soulsteel flakes trailing in your wake as you stride up to the command tent and are halted by four PRT officers equipped with containment foam-sprayers. The one closest to the door on the right approaches you, his tactical riot-gear-like armor disguising any body language, but his voice through the opaque, reinforced facemask is clipped and efficient as he holds up a hand for you to halt.
"Weaver?"
You turn your head and nod at him, your six swarm clones nodding as well. The other PRT officers shift in a way that makes you think they're eyeing the clones with trepidation, but the lead officer turns his leading hand and takes out a metallic baton - about the length of a pencil but several times thicker - from a pocket in his vest and waves it towards you. The instant he appears to press a button an almost chainsaw-like series of clicks emanates from it, causing all of the officers to take a few steps back involuntarily.
"You're too hot, Weaver. We can't let you in until you either take a decontamination shower, or do something to get rid of the radiation you're pouring out. Shower's over there, if you need it, but try to stay away from people if you can - anyone not wearing heavy armor is gonna need their own shower if you stay near them for longer than a few seconds."
You nod once, then absorb your armor while only extracting your pajamas to avoid causing a stir. After only a handful of seconds, you are once again exposed to the world.
"Scan again."
All the guards share a brief look before the leader shrugs and steps up to you again to wave the Geiger counter across your form. It still clicks, but only a fairly-rapid tick-tick-tick instead of the buzz-saw sound from before. This gets a nod from the officer, who steps back and motions you through.
"That's not enough to interfere with equipment or cause any damage to people for the next hour, so you're good for now. You'll still want to take a containment shower if you're going back out, and try to keep your distance from people while you're in your armor until you get it treated."
With a crisp nod and an, "Understood," you file into the massive white tent that houses some of the greatest parahuman minds on the planet.
And Lisa over on the far side of the tent, pouring over some maps with two PRT officers. Correction: she is Tattletale, now.
Before you can spread out your swarm clones to begin implementing your plan, a short, wiry-looking woman in a white-and-teal web-themed costume - that looks more like a Southern-stile gala dress than any kind of practical outfit - steps up to you from the computer banks just off to the side. Her teal-and-spiderweb helmet is otherwise featureless, save for the bottom portion that reveals her thinned lips set in a forced smile. Her voice is tight, but still somehow conveying a sense of Southern decorum.
"Why, the belle of the ball has arrived! I'm double-you-cee-emm, how do you do, Weaver?"
It takes you a split-second to put together her name and powers from Parahumans Online and the internal PRT Parahuman Database.
"WCM. Villain. Close-range electricity manipulation, Striker/Thinker 4. You are aiding Dragon with coordination."
Her smile strains a bit more, but her tone doesn't change a bit.
"That I am, sugah. I do enjoy a tussle every now-and-then, mix things up a bit with the boys, but that nasty critter makes me about as useless as a screen door on a submarine."
Her smile turns sly, and from her shift in posture you get the feeling she's winking at you.
"Now, we've been all in a tussle tryin' ta put reason ta the madness you've done stirred up tonight, so if you can follow me, sugah, we can try to knock some heads together."
You nod swiftly, then follow WCM as she bustles about the tent, calling for everyone to 'attend' her around the largest, map-filled table.
Unfortunately, the moment several of the capes in the tent turn your way, you can immediately see some react with a twitch, spasm, or grimace - likely a sign of their Thinker powers going haywire just trying to analyze you. You keep your distance from WCM, as her powers reportedly work through touch, which is easier said than done with the way she's casually tapping people around her in a manner that would be comforting to those unaware of her lesser-known power: the ability to override nervous systems just as easily as she manipulates computers and other electronics.
You've already surreptitiously tagged every person in and around the command tent with a few flies, but getting bugs into the medical tent is proving difficult with the ambient mist-sprayers filling the only opening with a chemical concoction that is blinding your bugs' senses; the decontamination chemicals don't appear to be very bug-friendly. You keep looking for an opening while the majority of your thought trains focus on the matter at hand: detailing your experiences tonight ever since being thrown to the ground in Vista's room by the Protectorate Base's first shudder.
You're uncertain if your anima display will burst back into terror-inducing mode if you spend anything at the moment, so you refrain from tossing out Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade to speed things along with the other six Thinkers in the huddle: WCM, Tattletale, Delphi, Lilume, Moonrune, and Khandra.
Focusing on the printed map of Brockton Bay proper, your two marker-filled hands trace the paths of your flight and Behemoth's destruction with blue and red, respectively, the markers handed to you by Tattletale when you started speaking. When you reach the Boat Graveyard in your tale, you shift over to the more detailed, blown-up roadmap of the northeast Docks and continue marking your path. There are a few comments from the Thinkers - mostly Tattletale, who looks almost sorrowful when her eyes flit over to you - while you recount every dodged strike, every decision made, every obliterated house, apartment complex, store, church, or factory.
Lilume - a tall woman dressed in some form of druidic, tree-like costume - has you explain your swarm sense after you mention how it aided you in keeping awareness of Behemoth's position and with dodging his attacks, which gets you some whistles and grunts from Khandra – a young woman in fantasy-styled armor that reveals more than it protects – and Moonrune – a hunched man whose younger voice resonates out of the obscuring robes and armor covering his form in response to your power.
"We've seen Behemoth react to decoys in previous fights. Did you attempt to distract him with these…" he motions with a drafty, robe-covered arm to the swarm clones arrayed behind you, "figures?"
You do not move your head or cease your drawing on the maps to answer, as it is clearly unnecessary in this situation.
"Behemoth control range greater than insect control range. Risk too great."
This gets some muttered curses and head shakes from the rest of the Thinker crowd, who is now diligently looking at the map or in any other direction except you. WCM is also on the other side of the table, having briskly retreated from your presence after finally managing to casually bump against you during your recounting of events.
In the small pause afforded by your latest comment, you slide and lock a metallic armband - given to you by a PRT officer halfway through your speech - around your right forearm. On it, a flat, color display showing a satellite overview of the tents set up in the parking lot, as well as the beach and bay beyond it, with a small red dot to locate your current position on the battle grid. Following the instructions on the prompt below the screen, you press the 'Communicate' button and crisply state your name to the device. The display quickly changes to confirm your name, then reverts back to the satellite image when you press the Communicate button again to confirm.
Almost in time with your armband's activation, the Casualty List flickers behind you briefly and updates itself. Your focus remains on the battle map as you draw the path dictated by the new casualties' locations, but you spare three mental threads to review the lost powers and what it means for the battle moving forward.
Sundancer deceased, AW-18 - RECOVERED, STABILIZED
Sham deceased, AW-18 - UNRECOVERABLE
Ascendant deceased, AV-18 - RECOVERED
Carapacitor deceased, AV-18 - RECOVERED
Cuff down, AU-18 - RECOVERED
Prince of Blades down, AU-18 - RECOVERED
Frenetic down, AU-18 - REDEPLOYED
Judging by the surge in vibrations your bugs can feel through the medical tent, one (or more) of the mass-teleporters must have just arrived with a new batch of wounded and dead. Looking up from the maps after you finish marking Behemoth's path of destruction, you turn to WCM – who appears to muttering something about Frenetic and 'reading porn on the battlefield' - and point in the direction of the medical tent.
"Teleporters deliver casualties here; deliver healed, tactical updates to battlefield?"
In the moment it takes WCM to parse your question, Tattletale jumps into the conversation. Her eyes are still focused at the map, but you can read her eager body language through her skintight blue-and-purple bodysuit easily enough.
"You've got a plan?"
You nod, then direct your swarm clones to stand near each of the Thinkers.
"Possess power to enhance thought, power cognition. Confirmed safe, no lasting effect. Activation causes terror-inducing illusion around self, will continue coordination through swarm clones."
This causes the arrayed Thinkers - those whose eyes you can see, at least - to blink and look warily at the bug clones now taking up positions beside them. Tattletale is, as usual, the first to respond - her smooth, young voice now more wary than remorseful.
"It's not going to cause headaches like just looking at you is doing, is it?"
You shake your head once, then take a step back from the map table.
"Negative. Recommend closing eyes, focusing on power to ease transition."
With that, you turn and walk out of the tent. Behind you, Tattletale turns to the bug-clone beside her and gives it a wary, half-grin.
"You know that's really freaky, right? Robot-talk and the bugs?"
You have the swarm-clone turn its head to her, before droning out a flat response.
"Irrelevant."
The young Thinker just shakes her head and holds a hand to her face in exasperation.
Outside, you have already absorbed your pajamas and extruded your armor, ignoring the looks your briefly clothless form attracted, and leap into the air on waves of anti-gravitational distortions. It only takes a few seconds to find your perch atop the PRT Headquarters again, at which point you relay a brief warning through your swarm clones to the Thinkers below.
"Prepare yourselves."
You wait five seconds, then begin to push Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade applications to them through the insects hiding in their costumes. The world around your body drops away into a billowing cloud of blue-and-black lightning-streaked smoke, from which erupts the massive Design Weaver of your Iconic Anima. There are a number of alarmed exclamations from observers below, but your six-fold mind is focused on the clones below and observing the reactions of the now-augmented Thinkers.
Each reacts almost as if struck, wavering slightly before quickly falling into a more rigid, mechanical stance. You carefully monitor their gasps and almost reverent murmurs as they each appear to be looking upon the world with new eyes - all except for WCM who, with strangely-fluid, efficient grace, strides over to the nearest computer and places her hand on the monitor. Instantly the screen bursts to life and flickers flickers through readouts and images too quickly for your swarm's eyes to catch, while a manic smile slowly creeps into her expression.
For a long moment, there is only the muted sounds of your swarm-clones and the hushed, hurried whispers of the Thinkers as they mumble to themselves absently. Finally, the silence is broken by Tattletale's maniacal laughter, which draws a few looks from the PRT officers but the other Thinkers appear oblivious or unconcerned.
Turning to her attendant swarm-body again, Tattletale's grin is positively ferocious.
"Oh, you naughty girl. You just changed the game."
Ignoring Tattletale's comment, your six consciousnesses - through your six bug-clones - begin to lay out the tactics you've pieced together from the battle so far and your own experiences against the Endbringer.
Impel deceased, AT-18 - RECOVERED
Zun Tsu deceased, AT-18 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
It's time to turn this battle around.
***
A new command structure is relayed to the front lines via Strider, the ninja-garbed mass-teleporter. There is apparently push-back from some when they are told their new orders - usually those ordered to pair up with capes from the other side of the law - but within minutes the newest updates to the Casualty List read much differently.
Strapping Lad down, AT-17 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Ballistic down, AT-17 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Mister Eminent down, AT-17 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Stormseed down, AT-17 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
By far, the most dramatic change to the battle effort has been your augmentation of Strider himself with Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade - the six-fold consciousness upgrade resulting in a nearly-transcendental upgrade in his teleporting speed and carrying capacity, allowing entire formations of attackers to appear, attack, and disappear in almost the same heartbeat.
But Behemoth has earned his reputation. Even your best tactics and can be foiled when updates from the battlefield are reliant upon Movers.
Strider down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
In the precious few minutes between Strider teleporting into the med-bay while in the process of being struck by a lightning bolt, and the healers getting him able to move and teleport again, you are forced to watch the mile-high satellite feed as the battlefield erupts into a chaotic swirl of lasers, explosions, lightning, and fire. The next update from Strider's relay reveals the damage.
Fanboy deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Armsmaster deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
The Dart deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Veeker deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Vernin deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Cenotaph deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Dragon down, AS-17 - UNRECOVERABLE
Battery down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Zen down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Tecton down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Prince of Blades down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Frenetic down, AS-17 - REDEPLOYED
Worse, it appears Behemoth has burrowed into the ground, taking Alexandria with him in the process - attempts to dive after or unearth the Endbringer and his Triumvirate hostage proving futile. The signal disruption does not abate, however, so Behemoth is assumed to be digging to a new location.
You keep a subconscious eye on Iris, or at least your locker - with no insects in the locker, and none able to squeeze through the now-sealed vents, you're hoping that whatever he's doing in there will finish in time before Behemoth likely appears nearby.
Several tense minutes pass without further sign of the Endbringer, the Casualty Board updating to reveal that Armsmaster (whom you can still feel has your Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade charm active) and Fanboy have been stabilized, while Cenotaph has been healed somehow. The rest that were marked as down - except for Dragon, who appears to be out-of-contact now - all are healed and listed as "REDEPLOYED" but you see them milling out of the medical tent instead of being immediately whisked to the battlefield. Within seconds the rest of the front-line fighters are teleported in by Strider.
Which is how you now find yourself speaking directly to two of the Triumvirate. Legend and Eidolon, two of the world's greatest, and most respected heroes, float a dozen feet from your perch at the top of the PRT Headquarters. Eidolon thus far has been mostly silent, but Legend - despite the exhaustion evident in his features, if not his nearly-pristine costume - has been nothing but smiles.
"What you've done tonight Weaver is unprecedented, and from what I've heard this is your first true fight! You're certainly making a name for yourself - I know at least that I'm beyond impressed."
Through your full helmet, your Lie Detector reads the statement as True. You nod, considering your dwindling essence reservoirs.
"Accolades unnecessary. Fight unfinished. Thinker augment desired?"
This gets a puzzled start from Legend, but Eidolon floats a little closer and uncrosses his arms. His voice, echoing through his back-lit helmet, sounds considerably more aged and unsteady than you expected from the powerful hero.
"What does this power of yours do, Weaver? Those you've used it on thus far have shown incredible gains in their abilities, but you must understand that the legacy of Teacher is hard one to forget."
Teacher, the supervillain Thinker with the ability to bestow other Thinker powers on people. His gifts were great, allowing even a normal, average-intelligence individual to soar with the highest Thinkers for a time, but ultimately it was discovered that his 'blessings' allowed him direct mental control of the beneficiary. Now imprisoned in the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center - the "Birdcage" - his legacy as the only parahuman to be able to hand out Thinker powers has been a thorn in your side since you revealed your own abilities.
"PRT tests conclusive. No lasting damage, control. Armsmaster, Kid Win, Miss Militia long-term recipients, checked clean."
You have difficulty reading Eidolon through his costume, but from the slight twitch of his fingers you can tell there is a great deal of eagerness behind the mask. Even still, there is a few moments of hesitation from the most powerful member of the Triumvirate before he nods in agreement.
"Very well, Weaver. You've shown nothing but courage and genuine heroism tonight, so I'll trust you on this."
Turning his head briefly to his Triumvirate partner, his tone is unusually light, almost disbelieving.
"Legend, get ready for… well, anything."
"I will. Don't push yourself, Eidolon - we still need you for the rest of this battle."
You motion with your left arm for Eidolon to join you on the rooftop, while Legend floats a few feet above the two of you. You consider moving to a different spot to avoid spooking the two Heroes with your Iconic Anima, but they didn't seem too phased when they approached you earlier - they have likely seen far worse than your own display.
"Previous warning to Thinkers proved sufficient. Recommend closing eyes, focusing on power to ease transition."
His silver-lined green cloak billowing in the ash-tinted wind, Eidolon nods his head.
With a focus of will, you withdraw Armsmaster's benediction and push the charged essence through the link connecting your mind and the small fly on Eidolon's back. With a bit more focus, you push further, into the Hero himself. Your billowing, towering Iconic Anima explodes into existence above you, causing Legend to flinch and move away warily while keeping his eyes on Eidolon.
Almost instantly after receiving the power, however, Eidolon starts with a gasp audible through his helmet, causing Legend to tense and point an arm at you.
"Eidolon? What's wrong?"
You're not certain Legend can hear Eidolon's response over the din of the gathered parahumans below, but your own swarm-sense hears it clearly.
"So… so many… wha-"
His awed, reverent murmur is caught in a strangled gasp as he lifts a shuddering finger to point at you.
"Wha-"
Your swarm provides the sensory feedback before you feel it yourself, giving you enough warning to accelerate your mind to deal with the attack.
At almost the speed of thought, the very shadows of the rooftop come alive and envelop Legend and Eidolon. In the same instant, you are back-pedaling, hastily trying to put distance between you and the shadows that are trying - ineffectually - to wrap themselves around you as well as your father's voice reverberates from them.
"Die, so that my daughter, and this city, can know peace."
Before you can respond, the building around you explodes in a torrent of lightning and magma.
***
Your various consciousnesses are too busy directing the masses of parahumans attempting to rally after Behemoth's sneak attack to ponder your father (now calling himself "Cenotaph"), his words, or his betrayal. You only tangentially noted his slinking, shadowy form pass out of range of your swarm sense, your multi-tasking through your swarm being pushed to its limits as you attempt to coordinate the parahumans left standing from the PRT Headquarters' explosion.
Behemoth has stopped emitting his disruptive radiation, but it is a far greater curse than a blessing, judging by your armband and its robotic, Dragon-like voice rattling off the rapidly-escalating list of casualties.
Entropy deceased, AZ-24. Gallant down, AZ-24. Iron Falcon deceased, AZ-24. Penitent down, AZ-24. WCM deceased, AZ-24. Hew deceased, AZ-24. Leaping Chaos deceased, AZ-24. Silverstreak deceased, AZ-24. Vista down, AZ-24.
The PRT Headquarters now a smoldering ruin, the parking lot's command center and medical wing teleported in a flash of Strider's power to the beach several hundred feet away.
Unfortunately, it appears your immunity to random powers applies to Strider's teleportation power as well, leaving you alone to face a roaring, rampaging Behemoth who still has a struggling Alexandria in his right hand. Judging by the condition of her costume, he appears to have been using her as some kind of digging aid - not that he needed it.
Still dripping with somehow-harmless molten rock, you clumsily attempt to dodge Behemoth's lightning bolts for a almost a full minute before slamming into a toppled building. As you try to regain your speed and altitude, Behemoth seizes the opportunity with a nearly point-blank, double-handed attack, drilling two massive blasts of electrical current straight to your chest. Even your accelerated mind struggles to keep up with what is happening when the force of the bolts sends you spiraling out of control and into the bay.
Ironically, the magma from Behemoth's eruption saves your life, disintegrating while absorbing the majority of the bolts' harmful energies. As you devote one consciousness to struggle free of the rapidly-hardening shell of rock encasing your suit, you turn the rest of your minds towards using your still-significant swarm to broadcast orders to the rapidly mobilizing parahumans.
"Spread out! Shields up to cover the medical tents!"
Before anyone can react to your orders, however, Behemoth raises his arms in a show of rage and triumph, roars a bone-rattling challenge, then rears back for the start of a charge… until he is blasted off his feet by an almost equally-massive, flame-wreathed metal dragon.
Lung has finally decided to join the fight.
With your swarm, you can see the assembled parahumans pause in their readied actions as they take in this latest development. Through the thunderous roars of the two fire-wrapped giants, you start to hear some cheers and whoops as Alexandria visibly frees herself from Behemoth's grasp and retreats back to the line with Legend. Eidolon appears to be on the ground, holding his head, so you reclaim the power that appears to be rendering him insensate.
Unfortunately, all this does is make him fall over.
Eidolon down, BA-24.
This gets a great number of alarmed cries from the massed defenders, but their calls of alarm are quickly drowned out by a thunderclap of force that pulverizes the remaining buildings standing near the wreckage of the PRT Headquarters.
For a brief moment, all is still.
Then, rising from behind the comatose form of the great metallic dragon, Behemoth raises his bloody, battle-worn arms and propels Lung's body into the mass of defenders like a cannonball.
Shyfter deceased, BA-24. Triumph down, BA-24. Hookwolf down, BA-24. Ryune down, BA-24. Crickett down, BA-24. Bob down, BA-24. Whirlygig down, BA-24.
As you finally manage to wrench off the worst of the hardened stone dragging you down into the water, you see through your swarm the rapidly-shrinking form of the Endbringer as it takes off in a full run to the northwest.
***
Intimacy: Daniel Hebert/Cenotaph (Guilt) -1 Decrease!
Intimacy: Glory Girl/Victoria (Distaste) Lost! (Because Behemoth)
Athletics +1 Training Interval (6/6 Intervals)
Presence +1 Training Interval (4/6 Intervals)
Lore +1 Training Interval (5/6 Intervals)
Dodge +2 Training Interval (6/6 Intervals)
Resistance +1 Training Interval (3/6 Intervals)
War (Swarms ●●○) Gained!
Lore (Parahumans ●●○) Gained!
Athletics (Power Armor ●○○) Gained!
The Battle For Brockton Bay: The Rampage
(Choose one. Two stunts allowed, but written as usual suggestions, not 'already accomplished' retelling.)
[ ] "The son of a bitch was hurt, but Weaver saw how badly we were hurt too. Without even a word, she was off to chase down the Endbringer with the Triumvirate quick on her heels."
[ ] "We could hear Behemoth tearing through the city, but we were too disorganized and reeling to do anything. Weaver was there, though, and within only a few minutes we had rallied and teleported to that High School for a last stand."
[ ] "Even though we were barely organized, we still needed to stop the monster from tearing through the city like it was his playground. After only a few seconds of rest, everyone standing was teleported back into the fray. We didn't expect to see two monsters, though..."
MAP OF BATTLE SO FAR:
(Taylor is Blue, Behemoth is Red)
[X] "With Alexandria and the other heavy-hitters to give her some breathing room, Weaver was finally able to make it back to the rest of us at the command center. She didn't act as banged-up as she looked, but it was still a little creepy the way she spoke to everyone through all those different bug bodies while she floated above."
- [x] Stunt: "Weaver knew exactly what to do: which Thinkers to ask for on-the-fly intel; where to best locate everyone; which Movers to task with repositioning our forces; which Shakers and Breakers could control the battlefield; how to combine us into a force that could counter anything the Herokiller did. But most of all, she started handing out her Thinker power - a game-changer, if I ever saw one."
- [x] Stunt: "With communications down, Weaver brought order back to the field by taking over the command center. Her insect swarms and Thinker power allowed her to strategize and issue different tasks to several people at once. Soon order was starting to be restored, and by practical delegation and using a clever combination of cape powers, she expanded her chain of command to the field too."
XP Expenditures:
[X] 2 XP - War (Swarms ●●○)
[X] 2 XP - Lore (Parahumans ●●○)
[X] 2 XP - Athletics (Power Armor ●○○)
***
Despite – or, perhaps in spite of – Alexandria and Dragon's one-two combo, Behemoth is up on his feet in seconds and still lashing out lightning bolts in your direction. You've struggled out of the ruins of the three-story office building that had partly crumbled on you from the shockwave of those last attacks, so you're able to dodge the shots as you accelerate to the edge of his two-thousand foot range; you're not certain if the appearance of reinforcements is going to cause Behemoth to go back to his more potent arsenal, but you're not interested in taking those chances.
Just as you're about to reach his maximum range, however, dozens of capes suddenly appear in a flash of light below you, arrayed in a defensive 'V' formation. At their head, Narwhal, the greatest forcefield user in the world, a nearly-seven foot tall woman in a shimmering bodysu-
No, those are scale-sized forcefields all around her body. Well, that certainly explains how she gets so much… lift for her assets. The two-foot long horn of curled, shimmering forcefields atop her head almost distracts from her otherwise-naked appearance.
Larger, opaque forcefields appear in an instant around the massive group of capes, just in time for a wicked blast of electrical current to smash into the foremost shield. The bolt cascades harmlessly off the dome of shields – now being augmented with different-colored forcefields that are the mark of other shield-using capes – but the first shield is nearly transparent after absorbing that first shot.
The cacophonous shockwaves and rumblings of the fight down the street increase as beams of brilliant blue and eye-searing red streak down to coincide with Alexandria's most recent impact, heralding the appearance of Legend – the world's greatest laser-wielding artillery – and Eidolon – the man with every power in the world, but only three at a time. You had an idea to loan Eidolon and Legend your Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade, but you're not certain you'd last long enough to get close to them at the moment, what with the wild display of powers filling the air around them.
"Weaveaaaahhh!"
You barely make out your name being shouted by multiple people over the sounds of the battle raging down the street, as well as the terrified exclamations of people reacting to your anima banner as you streak overhead, and note the Brockton Bay Wards assembled near the middle of the expanding group of capes. They're joined by the full roster of Brockton Bay's Protectorate, both families of New Wave, and rounded out by Chevalier, Rime, and Mouse Protector.
You nod curtly in their direction, more focused on another group of Brockton Bay residents in the crowd off to the side: the Undersiders, astride their monstrous, van-sized dog-rhino-boar… things. You don't see Lisa – Tattletale – in their group, though. Maybe she's at the command center?
Your consciousnesses are so busy pouring over your mental lists of capes present, trying to catalog their powers and affiliations, and hoping that they rapidly get over the terror your anima display is causing, that the lone consciousness you have dedicated to body control barely reacts in time to avoid getting blasted out of the sky by another arc of superheated plasma. The bolt surges through your suit and sears into your skin through the many layers of ablative coating, before continuing on its path to blast out a sizable chunk of an low-rent apartment complex farther up the street.
Your suit's computers wink out briefly, but long enough to send you tumbling as you reel, twitching in agony from hundreds of thousands of volts that just coursed through your frame. Enough of your threads of consciousnesses are able to bear through the pain to guide your corkscrewing body away from the lightposts and streetlights as you tumble towards the pavement, giving your suit's computers time to kick in and right your flight trajectory.
As your mind assesses the damage presented by the suit's HUD, you breathe a sigh of relief as it doesn't appear to have disabled any of the suits various modules, nor caused any lasting damage to the suit's power cells. Through the insects that you're able to see through at the moment, your suit doesn't even look like it took that much damage – just a bit of carbon scoring near the feet where the bolt entered.
As the lingering twitches in your limbs and neck subside, you don't feel too much worse – about the same as when you were shot on Monday, really. This surprises you, as you honestly thought you'd be a goner if any of Behemoth's bolts hit you. Could you have been tanking hits like this to let people escape the shelters? Did you not take as much damage because you were airborne and in a quasi-Faraday cage? Or, more likely, was the fact that you were near Behemoth's range limit save you this time?
Idly, one of your consciousnesses notices that a contrail of white smoke (visible because of the contrast against the black smoke of your anima) is flowing from your hair. You can't bring yourself to care about such a superficial concern at the moment, but a quiet part of you acknowledges that once-upon-a-time it would have been deeply distressing.
You've long-since sailed past the dispersing group of capes, but just as you're about to turn around and try to make your way back to the group of Brockton Bay Heroes a four-legged mechanical titan plunges out of the sky above you on massive plumes of fire. Easily larger than two PRT trucks combined and bristling with missiles larger than your suit, the only reason you don't immediately move to dash out of the way of the oncoming machine of war is the fact that it's broadcasting your name in a familiar voice: female, synthesized, and with a hint of a Canadian accent.
"Weaver!"
This time, you make certain to duck down in between a few buildings before slowing your pace. As you do so, the enormous Dragonsuit navigates its descent to keep a few hundred feet apart – your form still pouring out streaks of blue-and-black lightning, acrid black plumes of smoke, and the echoing, whispered cries of tortured souls fills the air around you, so you suspect Dragon doesn't want her suit to freak out like everyone else did as you passed over their heads.
The Endbringer fight nearly a mile away is still loud enough to rattle the building you're currently standing atop. The streets echo with fierce roars, defiant battlecries, and blood-curdling screams, so you turn your meager suit speakers up to full volume to try to communicate with Dragon – Behemoth's interference still too strong at this range to allow for stable suit-to-suit communication.
"Dragon. Behemoth destroying shelters. Attempting to draw me out. Shelters must be evacuated."
Looking down at the quadrupedal Endbringer Dragonsuit as it lands on the street below you, it's difficult to judge Dragon's reaction to your concise summary of current events beyond the long pause before her response. Certainly she must understand the need for efficiency in both speech and action in such a dire time?
The humanoid torso rising from the middle of the quad-legged frame rocks back and forth in an approximation of a nod or bow, though Dragon's voice sounds slightly strained as she turns back towards the fight.
"Report back to the command center at PRT Headquarters, downtown. We have a plan, but we need to know everything you've been doing. We'll hold Behemoth off for now."
"Understood."
You nod curtly to ensure visual confirmation of your affirmation and then engage your suit's anti-gravity wings to propel you at maximum speed towards Downtown.
Behind you, the night sky bleeds fire and smoke as Brockton Bay burns and parahumans die.
***
Not even a minute into your flight, your re-established swarm senses discover that the more populated districts of Brockton Bay are now almost hopelessly swamped with panicked civilians still struggling to get to shelters. PRT and Emergency Response helicopters whirl overhead, broadcasting directions to people streaming into Endbringer shelters. All the usual fliers and notices repeat that people must only carry what they need to live with them to the shelters (medical equipment, primarily), but as always you see people carrying pets, luggage, and even computer towers or TVs.
As you streak high through the air to avoid terrifying more people with your still-active anima, you occasionally notice Movers – mostly teleporters – popping in and out of the crowd to help break up congestion in areas and get people that are losing their senses back to reality. There appear to be a few mass-teleporters available for the fight, as evidenced by the largest groups suddenly disappearing into thin air, but judging by the throngs of people still flooding the streets they're barely making a dent in the evacuation. Would they benefit from your Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade? Something worth checking when you get to PRT Headquarters.
Almost six minutes into your flight you note through the bugs in Iris' Shard of Perfect Administration range that the wayward Eye has made his way to your home and is rapidly tearing apart your room in a flurry of spindly mechanical arms. Judging by the continued feelings of frustration and anticipation, he's still not yet found the object of his search. Your house otherwise is exactly how you last left it, almost three and a half weeks ago.
Streaming bugs through the slightly-open window in your room, you finally manage to coalesce a swarm large enough through which to speak to Iris.
"Iris of Innovation. Halt. Please."
[Comprehension.][Satisfaction.][Frustration.][Anticipation.]
You have a number of different questions for Iris at this moment, but deference to his current train thought will most likely provide you the greatest results in the smallest amount of time.
"Clarify objective of search. Please. Walls authorized for written explanation."
[Comprehension.][Satisfaction.][Incomprehension.][Agreement.]
Previous Request Indicated Imminent Exaltations
Cradle Security Required
"Clarification of term: Cradle. Please."Cradle Security Required
[Comprehension.][Satisfaction.][Hesitation.]
Cradle Definition:
Origin Point for Enduring Order Administrator
You are curious why that never occurred to you before, as it seems so logical right now; you made the connection practically as Iris was masterfully laser-etching his explanation into your bedroom wall.Origin Point for Enduring Order Administrator
"1700 yards West. 400 yards North. Winslow High School. Central building. First floor. Locker 823."
[Comprehension.][Satisfaction.][Resolution.]
With a sharp series of clicks, the pencil-thin arms of Iris' cover snap closed and the Eye of Autochthon speeds off down, and then out of the house. He takes to the air, avoiding the still-busy streets filled with shouting civilians struggling on foot and in gridlocked cars to evacuate the usual shelters.
***
The northern parking lot adjacent to the squat, six-story PRT Headquarters is the first sign of parahuman activity you've seen in your final minutes of flying. You attempted to prepare yourself for what would await you at the presume combat control center in downtown while you flew; would it be a beehive of activity, or a desolate and grim command center that awaited you?
Unfortunately, you did not anticipate that the makeshift medical tent would be the first thing to pop into your swarm-aided senses. While the inside the of the tent is, unsurprisingly, completely empty of insects you nevertheless hear the screams of pain and sorrow through those insects surrounding and above the fracas.
As you move closer, the entirety of the staging area expands into your subconscious senses, showing the primary hub of activity to be closer towards the PRT HQ itself, a large tent extending from the wall of the faded-white building to cover most of the parking lot not already owned by the extension of the PRT HQ's medical wing. Inside, from the few flies, spiders, and cockroaches that had intruded without notice, you're able to see almost a dozen costumed parahumans pouring over maps of Brockton Bay as a whole and of the Docks in particular.
Your swarm sense makes out what is being displayed on the projection screen set up against the PRT HQ's wall, slowly scrolling up through an updating list of names, numbers, and statuses. As you subconsciously direct more insects towards the list, all six consciousnesses in your mind cast aside their other tasks to focus on the digital cenotaph.
Uglymug deceased, AX-11 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Alabaster deceased, AX-11 - UNRECOVERABLE
Frenetic down, AX-11 - REDEPLOYED
Dauntless deceased, AB-12 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Meian down, AX-12 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Blossom deceased, AX-12 - RECOVERED, REVIVED
Oni Lee down, AX-12 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Skelmer deceased, AX-13, RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Quark down, AX-13 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Folstam down, AW-13 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Zechstein down, AW-13 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Browbeat deceased, AW-14 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Cuff down, AW-15 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Tecton down, AW-15 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Grue deceased, AX-15 - RECOVERED, STABILIZED
Furrow down, AX-15 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Glory Girl deceased, AX-15 - UNRECOVERABLE
Brandish down, AX-16 - HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Menja deceased, AX-16 - RECOVERED
Kaiser down, AX-16 - RECOVERED
Annex deceased, AX-16 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Mama Bear deceased, AY-16 - RECOVERED
Saurian deceased, AY-16 - RECOVERED
Grace down, AZ-16 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Arbiter deceased, AZ-16 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Oni Lee down, BA-16 - RECOVERED
Trickster deceased, BA-16 - RECOVERED
Clockblocker deceased, AY-17 - RECOVERED, STABILIZED
Cloister deceased, AX-17 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
Jinnter deceased, AX-17 - UNRECOVERABLE
Myrddin down, AW-10 - RECOVERED
Even as you watch, floating a few hundred feet in the air above the command center as you take stock of the casualties, the list updates again with a flickering of of the projection screen. Kaiser, Oni Lee, and Myrrdin are back on the field, but all those marked as deceased - Menja, Trickster, Mama Bear, and Saurian - are now listed as "UNREVIVABLE".
Your clock shows 11:48PM. It's only been twelve minutes since you left the battlefield, and already fourteen are dead.
But your mind cares little for the hopes, dreams, and families lost in this brutal calculus of war. No, that would be a waste of their sacrifice to sink down, hug your knees to your chest, and weep - like you see Panacea doing behind the medical tent. Those still in the command center tent are grim and strung-out, and you can already see the pressure of the task before them wearing down upon their shoulders.
You begin a small loop around the area, high above the floodlight-lit camps that squat against the PRT Headquarters. Your mind is calculating the names and faces you saw gathered in the large mass that teleported to battle Behemoth, reviewing known abilities and combat tactics. In your split consciousnesses, you group capes with similar powers, or maybe design small squads based on specific tactics, or even just allow some capes the freedom to cut loose like they've never done before. But by the time you have swept the seven blocks all around the PRT Headquarters and filled the sky with millions of insects, you are finally ready to bring your knowledge to bear on the battle at-hand.
Alighting atop the PRT Headquarters, you have your sky-blanketing swarm fan out to give you total coverage of your Shard of Perfect Administration's range, and then solidify the extra mass of bugs a half-dozen swarm-clones. Bringing them to flank you as you hover down into the camp, you are unsurprised by the startled exclamations and shouts at your approach.
Still radiating a swirling void of light around you, you ignore the droplets of luminous soulsteel flakes trailing in your wake as you stride up to the command tent and are halted by four PRT officers equipped with containment foam-sprayers. The one closest to the door on the right approaches you, his tactical riot-gear-like armor disguising any body language, but his voice through the opaque, reinforced facemask is clipped and efficient as he holds up a hand for you to halt.
"Weaver?"
You turn your head and nod at him, your six swarm clones nodding as well. The other PRT officers shift in a way that makes you think they're eyeing the clones with trepidation, but the lead officer turns his leading hand and takes out a metallic baton - about the length of a pencil but several times thicker - from a pocket in his vest and waves it towards you. The instant he appears to press a button an almost chainsaw-like series of clicks emanates from it, causing all of the officers to take a few steps back involuntarily.
"You're too hot, Weaver. We can't let you in until you either take a decontamination shower, or do something to get rid of the radiation you're pouring out. Shower's over there, if you need it, but try to stay away from people if you can - anyone not wearing heavy armor is gonna need their own shower if you stay near them for longer than a few seconds."
You nod once, then absorb your armor while only extracting your pajamas to avoid causing a stir. After only a handful of seconds, you are once again exposed to the world.
"Scan again."
All the guards share a brief look before the leader shrugs and steps up to you again to wave the Geiger counter across your form. It still clicks, but only a fairly-rapid tick-tick-tick instead of the buzz-saw sound from before. This gets a nod from the officer, who steps back and motions you through.
"That's not enough to interfere with equipment or cause any damage to people for the next hour, so you're good for now. You'll still want to take a containment shower if you're going back out, and try to keep your distance from people while you're in your armor until you get it treated."
With a crisp nod and an, "Understood," you file into the massive white tent that houses some of the greatest parahuman minds on the planet.
And Lisa over on the far side of the tent, pouring over some maps with two PRT officers. Correction: she is Tattletale, now.
Before you can spread out your swarm clones to begin implementing your plan, a short, wiry-looking woman in a white-and-teal web-themed costume - that looks more like a Southern-stile gala dress than any kind of practical outfit - steps up to you from the computer banks just off to the side. Her teal-and-spiderweb helmet is otherwise featureless, save for the bottom portion that reveals her thinned lips set in a forced smile. Her voice is tight, but still somehow conveying a sense of Southern decorum.
"Why, the belle of the ball has arrived! I'm double-you-cee-emm, how do you do, Weaver?"
It takes you a split-second to put together her name and powers from Parahumans Online and the internal PRT Parahuman Database.
"WCM. Villain. Close-range electricity manipulation, Striker/Thinker 4. You are aiding Dragon with coordination."
Her smile strains a bit more, but her tone doesn't change a bit.
"That I am, sugah. I do enjoy a tussle every now-and-then, mix things up a bit with the boys, but that nasty critter makes me about as useless as a screen door on a submarine."
Her smile turns sly, and from her shift in posture you get the feeling she's winking at you.
"Now, we've been all in a tussle tryin' ta put reason ta the madness you've done stirred up tonight, so if you can follow me, sugah, we can try to knock some heads together."
You nod swiftly, then follow WCM as she bustles about the tent, calling for everyone to 'attend' her around the largest, map-filled table.
Unfortunately, the moment several of the capes in the tent turn your way, you can immediately see some react with a twitch, spasm, or grimace - likely a sign of their Thinker powers going haywire just trying to analyze you. You keep your distance from WCM, as her powers reportedly work through touch, which is easier said than done with the way she's casually tapping people around her in a manner that would be comforting to those unaware of her lesser-known power: the ability to override nervous systems just as easily as she manipulates computers and other electronics.
You've already surreptitiously tagged every person in and around the command tent with a few flies, but getting bugs into the medical tent is proving difficult with the ambient mist-sprayers filling the only opening with a chemical concoction that is blinding your bugs' senses; the decontamination chemicals don't appear to be very bug-friendly. You keep looking for an opening while the majority of your thought trains focus on the matter at hand: detailing your experiences tonight ever since being thrown to the ground in Vista's room by the Protectorate Base's first shudder.
You're uncertain if your anima display will burst back into terror-inducing mode if you spend anything at the moment, so you refrain from tossing out Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade to speed things along with the other six Thinkers in the huddle: WCM, Tattletale, Delphi, Lilume, Moonrune, and Khandra.
Focusing on the printed map of Brockton Bay proper, your two marker-filled hands trace the paths of your flight and Behemoth's destruction with blue and red, respectively, the markers handed to you by Tattletale when you started speaking. When you reach the Boat Graveyard in your tale, you shift over to the more detailed, blown-up roadmap of the northeast Docks and continue marking your path. There are a few comments from the Thinkers - mostly Tattletale, who looks almost sorrowful when her eyes flit over to you - while you recount every dodged strike, every decision made, every obliterated house, apartment complex, store, church, or factory.
Lilume - a tall woman dressed in some form of druidic, tree-like costume - has you explain your swarm sense after you mention how it aided you in keeping awareness of Behemoth's position and with dodging his attacks, which gets you some whistles and grunts from Khandra – a young woman in fantasy-styled armor that reveals more than it protects – and Moonrune – a hunched man whose younger voice resonates out of the obscuring robes and armor covering his form in response to your power.
"We've seen Behemoth react to decoys in previous fights. Did you attempt to distract him with these…" he motions with a drafty, robe-covered arm to the swarm clones arrayed behind you, "figures?"
You do not move your head or cease your drawing on the maps to answer, as it is clearly unnecessary in this situation.
"Behemoth control range greater than insect control range. Risk too great."
This gets some muttered curses and head shakes from the rest of the Thinker crowd, who is now diligently looking at the map or in any other direction except you. WCM is also on the other side of the table, having briskly retreated from your presence after finally managing to casually bump against you during your recounting of events.
In the small pause afforded by your latest comment, you slide and lock a metallic armband - given to you by a PRT officer halfway through your speech - around your right forearm. On it, a flat, color display showing a satellite overview of the tents set up in the parking lot, as well as the beach and bay beyond it, with a small red dot to locate your current position on the battle grid. Following the instructions on the prompt below the screen, you press the 'Communicate' button and crisply state your name to the device. The display quickly changes to confirm your name, then reverts back to the satellite image when you press the Communicate button again to confirm.
Almost in time with your armband's activation, the Casualty List flickers behind you briefly and updates itself. Your focus remains on the battle map as you draw the path dictated by the new casualties' locations, but you spare three mental threads to review the lost powers and what it means for the battle moving forward.
Sundancer deceased, AW-18 - RECOVERED, STABILIZED
Sham deceased, AW-18 - UNRECOVERABLE
Ascendant deceased, AV-18 - RECOVERED
Carapacitor deceased, AV-18 - RECOVERED
Cuff down, AU-18 - RECOVERED
Prince of Blades down, AU-18 - RECOVERED
Frenetic down, AU-18 - REDEPLOYED
Judging by the surge in vibrations your bugs can feel through the medical tent, one (or more) of the mass-teleporters must have just arrived with a new batch of wounded and dead. Looking up from the maps after you finish marking Behemoth's path of destruction, you turn to WCM – who appears to muttering something about Frenetic and 'reading porn on the battlefield' - and point in the direction of the medical tent.
"Teleporters deliver casualties here; deliver healed, tactical updates to battlefield?"
In the moment it takes WCM to parse your question, Tattletale jumps into the conversation. Her eyes are still focused at the map, but you can read her eager body language through her skintight blue-and-purple bodysuit easily enough.
"You've got a plan?"
You nod, then direct your swarm clones to stand near each of the Thinkers.
"Possess power to enhance thought, power cognition. Confirmed safe, no lasting effect. Activation causes terror-inducing illusion around self, will continue coordination through swarm clones."
This causes the arrayed Thinkers - those whose eyes you can see, at least - to blink and look warily at the bug clones now taking up positions beside them. Tattletale is, as usual, the first to respond - her smooth, young voice now more wary than remorseful.
"It's not going to cause headaches like just looking at you is doing, is it?"
You shake your head once, then take a step back from the map table.
"Negative. Recommend closing eyes, focusing on power to ease transition."
With that, you turn and walk out of the tent. Behind you, Tattletale turns to the bug-clone beside her and gives it a wary, half-grin.
"You know that's really freaky, right? Robot-talk and the bugs?"
You have the swarm-clone turn its head to her, before droning out a flat response.
"Irrelevant."
The young Thinker just shakes her head and holds a hand to her face in exasperation.
Outside, you have already absorbed your pajamas and extruded your armor, ignoring the looks your briefly clothless form attracted, and leap into the air on waves of anti-gravitational distortions. It only takes a few seconds to find your perch atop the PRT Headquarters again, at which point you relay a brief warning through your swarm clones to the Thinkers below.
"Prepare yourselves."
You wait five seconds, then begin to push Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade applications to them through the insects hiding in their costumes. The world around your body drops away into a billowing cloud of blue-and-black lightning-streaked smoke, from which erupts the massive Design Weaver of your Iconic Anima. There are a number of alarmed exclamations from observers below, but your six-fold mind is focused on the clones below and observing the reactions of the now-augmented Thinkers.
Each reacts almost as if struck, wavering slightly before quickly falling into a more rigid, mechanical stance. You carefully monitor their gasps and almost reverent murmurs as they each appear to be looking upon the world with new eyes - all except for WCM who, with strangely-fluid, efficient grace, strides over to the nearest computer and places her hand on the monitor. Instantly the screen bursts to life and flickers flickers through readouts and images too quickly for your swarm's eyes to catch, while a manic smile slowly creeps into her expression.
For a long moment, there is only the muted sounds of your swarm-clones and the hushed, hurried whispers of the Thinkers as they mumble to themselves absently. Finally, the silence is broken by Tattletale's maniacal laughter, which draws a few looks from the PRT officers but the other Thinkers appear oblivious or unconcerned.
Turning to her attendant swarm-body again, Tattletale's grin is positively ferocious.
"Oh, you naughty girl. You just changed the game."
Ignoring Tattletale's comment, your six consciousnesses - through your six bug-clones - begin to lay out the tactics you've pieced together from the battle so far and your own experiences against the Endbringer.
Impel deceased, AT-18 - RECOVERED
Zun Tsu deceased, AT-18 - RECOVERED, UNREVIVABLE
It's time to turn this battle around.
***
A new command structure is relayed to the front lines via Strider, the ninja-garbed mass-teleporter. There is apparently push-back from some when they are told their new orders - usually those ordered to pair up with capes from the other side of the law - but within minutes the newest updates to the Casualty List read much differently.
Strapping Lad down, AT-17 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Ballistic down, AT-17 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Mister Eminent down, AT-17 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
Stormseed down, AT-17 - RECOVERED, HEALED, REDEPLOYED
By far, the most dramatic change to the battle effort has been your augmentation of Strider himself with Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade - the six-fold consciousness upgrade resulting in a nearly-transcendental upgrade in his teleporting speed and carrying capacity, allowing entire formations of attackers to appear, attack, and disappear in almost the same heartbeat.
But Behemoth has earned his reputation. Even your best tactics and can be foiled when updates from the battlefield are reliant upon Movers.
Strider down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
In the precious few minutes between Strider teleporting into the med-bay while in the process of being struck by a lightning bolt, and the healers getting him able to move and teleport again, you are forced to watch the mile-high satellite feed as the battlefield erupts into a chaotic swirl of lasers, explosions, lightning, and fire. The next update from Strider's relay reveals the damage.
Fanboy deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Armsmaster deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
The Dart deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Veeker deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Vernin deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Cenotaph deceased, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Dragon down, AS-17 - UNRECOVERABLE
Battery down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Zen down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Tecton down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Prince of Blades down, AS-17 - RECOVERED
Frenetic down, AS-17 - REDEPLOYED
Worse, it appears Behemoth has burrowed into the ground, taking Alexandria with him in the process - attempts to dive after or unearth the Endbringer and his Triumvirate hostage proving futile. The signal disruption does not abate, however, so Behemoth is assumed to be digging to a new location.
You keep a subconscious eye on Iris, or at least your locker - with no insects in the locker, and none able to squeeze through the now-sealed vents, you're hoping that whatever he's doing in there will finish in time before Behemoth likely appears nearby.
Several tense minutes pass without further sign of the Endbringer, the Casualty Board updating to reveal that Armsmaster (whom you can still feel has your Incomparable Efficiency Upgrade charm active) and Fanboy have been stabilized, while Cenotaph has been healed somehow. The rest that were marked as down - except for Dragon, who appears to be out-of-contact now - all are healed and listed as "REDEPLOYED" but you see them milling out of the medical tent instead of being immediately whisked to the battlefield. Within seconds the rest of the front-line fighters are teleported in by Strider.
Which is how you now find yourself speaking directly to two of the Triumvirate. Legend and Eidolon, two of the world's greatest, and most respected heroes, float a dozen feet from your perch at the top of the PRT Headquarters. Eidolon thus far has been mostly silent, but Legend - despite the exhaustion evident in his features, if not his nearly-pristine costume - has been nothing but smiles.
"What you've done tonight Weaver is unprecedented, and from what I've heard this is your first true fight! You're certainly making a name for yourself - I know at least that I'm beyond impressed."
Through your full helmet, your Lie Detector reads the statement as True. You nod, considering your dwindling essence reservoirs.
"Accolades unnecessary. Fight unfinished. Thinker augment desired?"
This gets a puzzled start from Legend, but Eidolon floats a little closer and uncrosses his arms. His voice, echoing through his back-lit helmet, sounds considerably more aged and unsteady than you expected from the powerful hero.
"What does this power of yours do, Weaver? Those you've used it on thus far have shown incredible gains in their abilities, but you must understand that the legacy of Teacher is hard one to forget."
Teacher, the supervillain Thinker with the ability to bestow other Thinker powers on people. His gifts were great, allowing even a normal, average-intelligence individual to soar with the highest Thinkers for a time, but ultimately it was discovered that his 'blessings' allowed him direct mental control of the beneficiary. Now imprisoned in the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center - the "Birdcage" - his legacy as the only parahuman to be able to hand out Thinker powers has been a thorn in your side since you revealed your own abilities.
"PRT tests conclusive. No lasting damage, control. Armsmaster, Kid Win, Miss Militia long-term recipients, checked clean."
You have difficulty reading Eidolon through his costume, but from the slight twitch of his fingers you can tell there is a great deal of eagerness behind the mask. Even still, there is a few moments of hesitation from the most powerful member of the Triumvirate before he nods in agreement.
"Very well, Weaver. You've shown nothing but courage and genuine heroism tonight, so I'll trust you on this."
Turning his head briefly to his Triumvirate partner, his tone is unusually light, almost disbelieving.
"Legend, get ready for… well, anything."
"I will. Don't push yourself, Eidolon - we still need you for the rest of this battle."
You motion with your left arm for Eidolon to join you on the rooftop, while Legend floats a few feet above the two of you. You consider moving to a different spot to avoid spooking the two Heroes with your Iconic Anima, but they didn't seem too phased when they approached you earlier - they have likely seen far worse than your own display.
"Previous warning to Thinkers proved sufficient. Recommend closing eyes, focusing on power to ease transition."
His silver-lined green cloak billowing in the ash-tinted wind, Eidolon nods his head.
With a focus of will, you withdraw Armsmaster's benediction and push the charged essence through the link connecting your mind and the small fly on Eidolon's back. With a bit more focus, you push further, into the Hero himself. Your billowing, towering Iconic Anima explodes into existence above you, causing Legend to flinch and move away warily while keeping his eyes on Eidolon.
Almost instantly after receiving the power, however, Eidolon starts with a gasp audible through his helmet, causing Legend to tense and point an arm at you.
"Eidolon? What's wrong?"
You're not certain Legend can hear Eidolon's response over the din of the gathered parahumans below, but your own swarm-sense hears it clearly.
"So… so many… wha-"
His awed, reverent murmur is caught in a strangled gasp as he lifts a shuddering finger to point at you.
"Wha-"
Your swarm provides the sensory feedback before you feel it yourself, giving you enough warning to accelerate your mind to deal with the attack.
At almost the speed of thought, the very shadows of the rooftop come alive and envelop Legend and Eidolon. In the same instant, you are back-pedaling, hastily trying to put distance between you and the shadows that are trying - ineffectually - to wrap themselves around you as well as your father's voice reverberates from them.
"Die, so that my daughter, and this city, can know peace."
Before you can respond, the building around you explodes in a torrent of lightning and magma.
***
Your various consciousnesses are too busy directing the masses of parahumans attempting to rally after Behemoth's sneak attack to ponder your father (now calling himself "Cenotaph"), his words, or his betrayal. You only tangentially noted his slinking, shadowy form pass out of range of your swarm sense, your multi-tasking through your swarm being pushed to its limits as you attempt to coordinate the parahumans left standing from the PRT Headquarters' explosion.
Behemoth has stopped emitting his disruptive radiation, but it is a far greater curse than a blessing, judging by your armband and its robotic, Dragon-like voice rattling off the rapidly-escalating list of casualties.
Entropy deceased, AZ-24. Gallant down, AZ-24. Iron Falcon deceased, AZ-24. Penitent down, AZ-24. WCM deceased, AZ-24. Hew deceased, AZ-24. Leaping Chaos deceased, AZ-24. Silverstreak deceased, AZ-24. Vista down, AZ-24.
The PRT Headquarters now a smoldering ruin, the parking lot's command center and medical wing teleported in a flash of Strider's power to the beach several hundred feet away.
Unfortunately, it appears your immunity to random powers applies to Strider's teleportation power as well, leaving you alone to face a roaring, rampaging Behemoth who still has a struggling Alexandria in his right hand. Judging by the condition of her costume, he appears to have been using her as some kind of digging aid - not that he needed it.
Still dripping with somehow-harmless molten rock, you clumsily attempt to dodge Behemoth's lightning bolts for a almost a full minute before slamming into a toppled building. As you try to regain your speed and altitude, Behemoth seizes the opportunity with a nearly point-blank, double-handed attack, drilling two massive blasts of electrical current straight to your chest. Even your accelerated mind struggles to keep up with what is happening when the force of the bolts sends you spiraling out of control and into the bay.
Ironically, the magma from Behemoth's eruption saves your life, disintegrating while absorbing the majority of the bolts' harmful energies. As you devote one consciousness to struggle free of the rapidly-hardening shell of rock encasing your suit, you turn the rest of your minds towards using your still-significant swarm to broadcast orders to the rapidly mobilizing parahumans.
"Spread out! Shields up to cover the medical tents!"
Before anyone can react to your orders, however, Behemoth raises his arms in a show of rage and triumph, roars a bone-rattling challenge, then rears back for the start of a charge… until he is blasted off his feet by an almost equally-massive, flame-wreathed metal dragon.
Lung has finally decided to join the fight.
With your swarm, you can see the assembled parahumans pause in their readied actions as they take in this latest development. Through the thunderous roars of the two fire-wrapped giants, you start to hear some cheers and whoops as Alexandria visibly frees herself from Behemoth's grasp and retreats back to the line with Legend. Eidolon appears to be on the ground, holding his head, so you reclaim the power that appears to be rendering him insensate.
Unfortunately, all this does is make him fall over.
Eidolon down, BA-24.
This gets a great number of alarmed cries from the massed defenders, but their calls of alarm are quickly drowned out by a thunderclap of force that pulverizes the remaining buildings standing near the wreckage of the PRT Headquarters.
For a brief moment, all is still.
Then, rising from behind the comatose form of the great metallic dragon, Behemoth raises his bloody, battle-worn arms and propels Lung's body into the mass of defenders like a cannonball.
Shyfter deceased, BA-24. Triumph down, BA-24. Hookwolf down, BA-24. Ryune down, BA-24. Crickett down, BA-24. Bob down, BA-24. Whirlygig down, BA-24.
As you finally manage to wrench off the worst of the hardened stone dragging you down into the water, you see through your swarm the rapidly-shrinking form of the Endbringer as it takes off in a full run to the northwest.
***
Intimacy: Daniel Hebert/Cenotaph (Guilt) -1 Decrease!
Intimacy: Glory Girl/Victoria (Distaste) Lost! (Because Behemoth)
Athletics +1 Training Interval (6/6 Intervals)
Presence +1 Training Interval (4/6 Intervals)
Lore +1 Training Interval (5/6 Intervals)
Dodge +2 Training Interval (6/6 Intervals)
Resistance +1 Training Interval (3/6 Intervals)
War (Swarms ●●○) Gained!
Lore (Parahumans ●●○) Gained!
Athletics (Power Armor ●○○) Gained!
The Battle For Brockton Bay: The Rampage
(Choose one. Two stunts allowed, but written as usual suggestions, not 'already accomplished' retelling.)
[ ] "The son of a bitch was hurt, but Weaver saw how badly we were hurt too. Without even a word, she was off to chase down the Endbringer with the Triumvirate quick on her heels."
[ ] "We could hear Behemoth tearing through the city, but we were too disorganized and reeling to do anything. Weaver was there, though, and within only a few minutes we had rallied and teleported to that High School for a last stand."
[ ] "Even though we were barely organized, we still needed to stop the monster from tearing through the city like it was his playground. After only a few seconds of rest, everyone standing was teleported back into the fray. We didn't expect to see two monsters, though..."
MAP OF BATTLE SO FAR:
(Taylor is Blue, Behemoth is Red)
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