Script Mak3r
(Verified Sun God) (Verified Feathers)
- Location
- Hell of Blazing Fires
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Hell, maybe some warden decided that forcing her to stay in one spot while an Endbringer is attacking would be unethical and released her.
An Everdistant Horizon (Worm/Horizon Series)
- Thread starter AlSmash
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Queensland, Australia
Yeah... Anyone looking at back on Boston in a month or two probably is going to consider Boston being targeted at the PRT by taking out one of their better Directors and throwing the mother of all political messes in their lap.
Most likely with a "Thank god it wasn't Ziz or Taylor Hebert would have fed into her plan rather than countering the more fatal elements. Or actually was this the Ziz Plan due to how much damage Zero Dawn's caused the PRT with it being the President and military taking unexpected actions which reduced how bad an explosion this would be? Or is everything going as planned? GET ME THE STRING AND PEG BOARD!"
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
How to make Becky Even Angrier About the Whole Canary Thing:
Helpful Robots: oh! A person stuck in a box!
Canary: *stares at robot weasel peaking into her cell* . . .hello?
Military: *digs her out*
Canary: may I please be arrested by the military now? The PRT kinda railroaded me...
MPs: . . .aight.
Costa Brown: ALLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYY! >_<
Glenn: Daniel, see if I can get a new liver from Toybox along with a time machine, will you?
- Location
- usa
This is disturbingly likely, considering how she got treated in canon and how good Tay's bots are at searching.
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You know, I can actually see this happening. I don't think it was ever confirmed if she was forced to wear the brute restraints and gag at all times, but it really wouldn't surprise me if they did. Whoever was in charge probably just left her there to die while they ran away.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It is…interesting Citrine went into the meeting with Kaiser so unprepared.
John Tarsitano
Iron Scout
- Location
- United States, Florida
Wow. A lot of things are happening...and I get the feeling the Author is setting up sky scrapper size Dominoes that will crush both good and bad guys, but hopefully have the good guys squeak out a win. The foreshadowing size 12 boots for the "Iron Lady" are really going to come down hard I think.
The only way the day could get any worse for the PRT loosing Canary...is if Jack Reacher was the MP that was called in to investigate. Thou, if we go that route, we might as well start preparing for all the 80s and 90s action heroes to come out of retirement too.
Another question is, who has Dragon's equipment now (Colin, the Zero Dawn crew, or both?) and how far will Dragon have to go to try and kill her older version.
The only thing I think is more pressing is the future reunion between a recovered Taylor and her father...or did that happen already? To many good stories out their and not enough time to read all of them and sleep...or work.
Oh, what if the reason the action heroes from the Ryan universe haven't stepped in is because Ms. Fedora keeps having to fight or distract them...and they are wising up to her. Hence the unkempt appearance as their fights keep getting more epic for her to handle?
The only way the day could get any worse for the PRT loosing Canary...is if Jack Reacher was the MP that was called in to investigate. Thou, if we go that route, we might as well start preparing for all the 80s and 90s action heroes to come out of retirement too.
Another question is, who has Dragon's equipment now (Colin, the Zero Dawn crew, or both?) and how far will Dragon have to go to try and kill her older version.
The only thing I think is more pressing is the future reunion between a recovered Taylor and her father...or did that happen already? To many good stories out their and not enough time to read all of them and sleep...or work.
Oh, what if the reason the action heroes from the Ryan universe haven't stepped in is because Ms. Fedora keeps having to fight or distract them...and they are wising up to her. Hence the unkempt appearance as their fights keep getting more epic for her to handle?
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
From various indicators I've seen there are going to be multiple domino falls. The first one that has been hinted very heavily is the upcoming change in regards to the baked in (with Cauldron help) American opinion of 'only a cape can truly deal with a cape' (to the point that even Capes think this).
Now recall that Taylor is now declared to be a strategic asset of the USA, has/will have a bunch of military personnel on site whose mission is to keep her safe, she lives in Brockton Bay, and that the overwhelming majority of Capes are not immune/resistant to anti-personel and/or anti-tank weapons.
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You know who's really fucked?
Taylor old school. She just became a major asset and an undedicated big league player, people will want to know everything possible about her.
Especially her psychological state. So any backround check would include her time at school.
Then the poor faculty is asked, why; what they wrote and said about her does not checks up...
They allowed a bulling campain agianst a strategic resource of USA... that's like low key treason.
Its certanly one fire she may enjoy.
Taylor old school. She just became a major asset and an undedicated big league player, people will want to know everything possible about her.
Especially her psychological state. So any backround check would include her time at school.
Then the poor faculty is asked, why; what they wrote and said about her does not checks up...
They allowed a bulling campain agianst a strategic resource of USA... that's like low key treason.
Its certanly one fire she may enjoy.
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TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
Stressed out (general Taylor Antics on top of everything else, IE, 'are my boss and teammates alive'), juggling too many balls (IE, she's apparently been acting as the media rep on top of EVERYTHING else she does or at least the one dealing with it and now she has to hire a PR Division ASAP), and used to Accord having a Backup Script for her to follow, maybe?
. . .or, since Accord's always good for a game of Xanatos Thinker Speed Chess, even by proxy, she wants Kaiser to think she was unprepared and off-guard to lure him into doing things that are Actually All Part of the Plan And/Or Will Lead to His Own Downfall Without Zero Dawn Having To Lift A Finger. That meeting was from Kaiser's point of view, after all...
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Freebird
Authors note: Alright everyone, here you have it. The start of Paige's story. She's got a long road ahead of her. But there's a better horizon waiting for her. Please note that no one who worked on this is lawyer, and we're all trying to untangle the mess that Wildbow put into canon. So we hope you'll accept our attempts at explaining. Enjoy! Credit to @BigBadBen and more for hammering away at this with me.
Sprout 3.3.5 - Freebird
Boston
One week after Leviathan hit the city.
I ran into someone. My shoulder hurt, and my ribs. It hurt to breathe, but I couldn't stop. They went down, cried out. I didn't want to hurt anyone, I didn't mean to hurt anyone. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't. If they caught me, I would go back. And I couldn't go back. To sit and wait, and wonder how my life was going to end.
I gripped a pole, scraping my palms. Turned the corner quickly. This road was more clear. I ran as fast as I could. Splashing through mud, trying not to slip and fall. Everything would end if I slipped.
"There she is!" "Cut left!"
I could hear a whine in the air, like a bird. I ducked, not daring to look back. I heaved in air through my nose, my scars stretching and painful. I felt something wet run down the skin of my throat, might be sweat, might be blood. I couldn't stop.
In the corner of my eye, I could see someone running. Bright colours, splattered with mud. A cape. I couldn't let them catch me.
Another turn, I could feel them at my back. I couldn't go back there. Just run, keep running. My lungs hurt, I wanted to cry. Darkness fogged up the edge of my sight.
Ahead of me, was the camp entrance. Guarded. Watchful uniforms to keep the peace. Different from them. Maybe these would be different. The Guards raised their hands, shouted orders. Hands on weapons, then weapons raised. I couldn't slow down to explain. I could see their faces, maybe they could see mine. I threw myself to the ground, feeling the gravel claw at my skin.
I scrambled, clawing at their boots. Curling up around their legs, pressing closer. Please God, let them protect me. My lungs burned for oxygen, blackness pressed in around my eyes. I spoke as much as I could. Please help me. Don't let them take me. Please help me. I don't know what I sounded like. Blood hammered in my ears. The blackness won; and I felt hands on my shoulders.
"Heh meh. Heh me pleys."
"Stop right there! Stay where you are!"
"That woman is a wanted fugitive and we are taking her in!"
"Step back! You! Stay where you are! Let us sort this out."
"There's nothing to sort out! We.."
"PRT Boston is suspended while Martial Law is in effect, you have no authority here! Malan, check her."
"On it chief. Ma'am? Can you hear me? Ma'am? Shit, looks like she fainted. Hold up… shit! Fuck me! 'This is south gate, I need a medic team and transport, urgent! Collapsed female, signs of torture, possible mutilation.' This woman's in a bad way, Chief."
"Fuck me.. 'This is South Gate Chief Rodan, calling Colonel Herres for a developing situation, requesting backup.' Stay the fuck where you are Cape! This is a Military matter now."
"That woman is a wanted Cape, and belongs in PRT custody! We are the only ones who can hold her."
"Another move, and I start shooting. Back the fuck up!"
"Chief? I think this woman is Canary."
"Oh Fuck me… 'This is Rodan, connect me directly with Colonel Herres, urgent backup needed at South Gate.'"
I sat. Breathing. My sides hurt, my legs hurt. I kept looking down at my wrists… but still no cuffs. Opening my eyes had been the worst part. Would I wake up in a cell? My hands locked in those heavy manacles again? In some dark room with no power? A van, driving me to hell on earth?
The reality was… mundane. I opened my eyes to a cot, in a tent. A medical drip was attached to my arm. I wanted to take it out, but the uniformed guard made me hesitate. Aside from my cot, the wool blanket covering my legs, there was a table, some chairs, and grass for a floor. I could hear the sounds of the camp around me, people moving about, conversation, shouting in the distance. The tent flap opened, and a man and a woman entered. I tried to stand; freezing as the woman took large steps towards me. I flinched as she reached for me.
The woman wore a military uniform of some kind. The man was wearing the browns of a state trooper, he was younger, and he carried a case under his arm. On both their temples, I could see the blue glow of a Focus. I had heard about those. Listening to the teams going around Boston, listening to the radio, listening the first and only time that I went to the camp for food.
The military woman was strong, pulling me up. Gently though. She guided me to the chair sitting across from them. The trooper was already there, staring at my face… oh. I lowered my eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face. I guess my scarf came off. I hope I wasn't bleeding. Everyone settled in, and I kept my eyes on the table, clasping my fingers together. Still surprised that there were no cuffs.
"Ms. Mcabee? My name is Captain Miriam Semrad of the Judge Advocate General's Corps. This is Trooper Waldren of the Massachusetts State Patrol." Trooper Waldren nodded. "We are informing you now that you're being recorded. This is for your safety and for ours. Do you understand what we're telling you?" I nodded slightly, my hair tickling the back of my neck, and falling around my ears. I wanted to tuck it away, but didn't want to move and startle the guards.
Captain Semrad leaned forward. "Ms. Mcabee, it's important that you clearly acknowledge that you understand." Oh no, she thinks… I nodded frantically. Slowly, I pulled my hand up, covering my mouth completely. Then with one finger. I hope she understands.
She frowned, "You can't speak? Alright, wait a moment, we'll solve this." Then she just… walked out of the tent. I stared after her, looking at that slice of blue sky. Trooper Waldren spoke up, he sounded young. "Don't worry about her. She's straightlaced, but knows her stuff. She'll be back in a moment."
The state trooper put his hands on the table, palms up. "Here, can you give me your hands? I know you took a tumble when you met the guards, we don't want to let those scrapes get infected." I slowly stretched my hands forward. Turning them over, I could see the scrapes. Funny, I didn't feel them. Waldren hummed for a moment, pulling his case closer. I blinked, it was… purple. A dark purple. With flowers stitched in. The man must have noticed because he smiled, "Don't judge. My wife made it for me. Told me that 'big bad state troopers need to soften their image'. It's something of a good luck charm now." Ripping open an alcohol swab, he started gently swiping my hands. It stung, and I flinched. "Sorry sorry, I know it stings. We'll be done in a moment." We sat in silence. It was funny, the things that you miss. With those heavy manacles on, with the guards and the restraints… I hadn't held someone's hand in a long time. His hands were cold, but mine were hot. It was nice.
"There we go, we should be good now." The trooper's voice pulled me out of my head. He turned my hands over. "Well that won't do. Hold on, we can fix that." I didn't understand what he was talking about. He reached back into his purple flower pouch and pulled out… nail clippers. I suddenly felt mortified, staring down at my fingers. My nails were long. And cracked, and chipped, and it had been so long since I cared or had time to… Click. I blinked. The young man inspected his work, then clipped again. One by one… I… started to look civilized again.
Something tightened in my chest. I breathed deep through my nose, fully aware that my jaw was sealed. I swallowed. "There we go! Much better. Alright, decision time Ms. Mcabee. It's an important one." He smiled at me. It made me feel… like something other than a mess. Like my old self. He reached into his pack and pulled out nail polish… I must have looked confused because he grinned. "My wife told me to always be prepared. And yes, she packed these. So you have two colours. Quiet-Seduction… also known as red. Or Marina-Dive… also known as light blue." I smiled. Making sure to keep my mouth closed. God… how long ago was it since I smiled? I pointed. Blue would do. Although he was wrong. That's not 'blue', that's two shades lighter than 'robin egg blue'. I wondered where the Captain went…? I know my sense of time was off, but maybe this was going faster than expected?
I let go of those thoughts as Trooper Waldren firmly took my hand, and delicately started painting my nails. There was something so nostalgic about it. "My wife works at this cute little clothing boutique, and she always told me that her nails should match her outfits for the week. Yes, she planned her outfits for the week. My wife is a very organized woman. The boutique didn't survive, but she was just fine. Recently we met up and…"
I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath through the lump in my throat. I remembered the good times backstage before a show. Picking out clothes, accessories, makeup. The chatter of my stylist as he worked. God…I missed those days.
"There we go, good to go." He said with a smile. I looked at my nails. Trimmed short, freshly painted. And he did a good job also. No splatter. With this done I… I relaxed. I felt… human again. I wanted to blow on them, get the paint to dry faster. But… that wasn't possible. I didn't want him to see.
The tent opened, and the Captain walked in, a tablet under her arm. I looked in shock, worried that Waldren would get in trouble for interacting with me. I started to shake my head, not wanting him to get in trouble like the previous time…
She spared a glance, but otherwise didn't comment. I was relieved. She placed a tablet in front of me. Keyboard on the screen. "This will let you communicate with us. It might be slower, but it will speak what you write. Give it a try." Oh… for a moment I was angry. Or hurt. Or… I don't know what I felt. But I remember the trial. I remembered how hard it was to get in touch with anyone, even my own lawyer.
I tapped away, mindful to keep my fingers steady. I didn't want to smudge my nails. "Please don't send me back" The two of them looked at one another. Waldren spoke up, having returned everything to his case. "Right now, it's important we understand what happened, Paige. Can you tell us how you got out of PRT Boston? The more we know, the better our superiors can make a decision."
They had to keep me. I didn't want to go back. If I answered, they might keep me. I didn't do anything wrong. "I was released. With the others. Someone named Armstrong. Came on the intercom, then the doors all opened. My cuffs fell off." Captain Semrad was writing notes, Waldren was just sitting watching me. I swallowed as I typed away. The robotic voice of the tablet filled the silence with a light female voice. "He said; Leviathan is coming. Run, or fight. No one deserves to die in a cell. I ran. Some prisoners fought each other. I got outside. Started running."
"You ran into the city? How did you survive the attack?"
"I hid. Found a Parking Garage. Climbed the inside stairway, up and up." My hands started shaking. I had been so afraid. Worse than the trial. Or after the trial. "The water was rising. And the roof was damaged. Rain was coming in, falling down the stairs. I could hear crashing outside. Rumbling. I hid." I was trembling.
"Paige, you're safe now. Take a deep breath for me, okay? Deeeeppp breath, good." Waldren spoke up, as Captain Semrad wrote a few notes down. I breathed through my nose, in and out. I was safe. Nothing would happen to me. I was safe. Please let me be safe.
A moment passed, before Captain Semrad spoke, looking up from her notes. "You made it clear before that you can't speak. Is that an injury from the attack? Debris or something else?"
I shook my head. My hair and feathers flying everywhere. I desperately needed to cut it. "No." I didn't want to say more. But the Captain wasn't willing. "If something happened to you, Ms. Mcabee, we need to know about it." I glanced at Waldren, who gave me a firm nod, and a small smile.
"It was when they arrested me. They were shouting. I didn't understand what was happening. Wanted to ask questions. They hit me." I mimed punching my jaw. The two of them looked at each other again. Just a quick glance. "A PRT trooper hit you? One of the Protectorate heroes?" I shook my head, looking down at the table. "I don't know. It hurt, and it was loud. I couldn't focus. They kept shouting; 'don't let her sing'."
"But you were provided treatment when they had you in detention, correct?" Waldren asked, making me look up again. He was looking at me with such a look of concern. Captain Semrad was writing furiously. I tilted my head side to side. Tapping away at the screen took some time. "No. I woke up in a cell. They told me that my jaw was damaged, and that it had been wired shut for my safety. Everything hurt."
"Were you given anything for the pain?"
"I think so, but it's hazy. I kept being drugged. They had a collar on me. To make me sleep. So… I didn't feel much pain for long."
"I'm no dentist, but wiring your jaw shut would make it very hard to eat. And drink. Were you getting enough food and water?"
Oh no. I closed my eyes. Afraid that they would ask that. "Yes. They…" I took a moment to break, shaking out my fingers. The nice blue tips of my nails caught my eyes. It was a lovely colour. "They removed my front teeth. Two of them. So I can drink, and eat. With a straw." There. I said it. Now they would know I'm ugly. I remembered finding a mirror. Crying in front of it when I stumbled out after Leviathan had left. I stared at the table. Not wanting to see the look in their eyes.
Someone stood up, and I could see a hand reaching across the table. I glanced up. Waldren laid his hand on top of mine, while Captain Semrad spoke softly but urgently in the corner. The glow of her Focus was obvious.
"Alright Paige. We're going to get a doctor to look at you, alright? Just to make sure you're alright." I nodded, resigning myself to it all. I wanted to hope that they would keep me. Please don't send me back to the Birdcage.
Captain Semrad walked over. "Ms. Mcabee. I am formally informing you that you are being held in military custody. You will not be transferred over to PRT custody, and we will require a full interview as to your treatment under their care."
I cried. Leaning over, placed my head on the table and cried. With teary eyes, I pulled the tablet closer. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
I kept hitting the repeat button until Waldren gently took the tablet away from me.
Herres
Colonel Herres was a man juggling with chainsaws. For the past week he had given thousands of instructions in order to establish some sense of organization to the devastated city of Boston. He had enough problems. He didn't need more.
Too bad that the universe didn't agree with that sentiment.
He sat in his office, watching the screen that had been pulled in. With him was Colonel Mathew Johnson, of the JAG. Boston had seen a number of military police and Judge Advocate General officers arriving over the past week. Bolstering the decimated Boston police and justice department. Colonel Johnson had been the first person Herres had called when he received the news that a wanted, convicted, parahuman appeared at his gates begging for protection.
Now the two men had to sort out this mess.
"Very nice empathy play with Waldren. Boy's got talent."
"He's genuinely a nice man according to his co-workers. He was outside the city during the Leviathan mess. He's been trying to prove himself ever since."
"Well, keep an eye on him. Don't want to lose talent to burnout." The video they watched was an hour old now. Techs had gone over the whole thing to make sure that nothing would impact the viewers.
Herres paused the video as Paige was telling the officers about her treatment by the PRT. "We had a cape healer, Panacea, take a look at her while she was unconscious. The officers were not made aware of her injuries, so their reactions aren't compromised. I have a write up of Panacea's findings, and am waiting for my Docs to give me theirs. So far? Everything Canary is saying lines up. Panacea also paralyzed her vocal cords, just in case."
Herres reached for a pen on his desk, twisting it between his fingers. "What are my options Johnson?"
The older Colonel looked at him, then back at the monitor. "You want my professional or personal opinion?"
"Let's start with professional."
"Legally, the President has suspended the operations of the PRT inside the Boston area. Anything PRT related is meant to report to you, or the JAG office, or the Police department."
"Which means that the capture team I've got engaged in a staring contest with my soldiers is legally tricky."
Johnson barked a laugh. "Escaped fugitives should be the responsibility of the States Marshals. But the PRT could argue that away." He grew serious. "No, the trouble is if you don't want to turn that young woman back to the PRT."
"I already said I wouldn't."
"I know, but there's a mountain of shit to come because of it. Look, if you want to use your special authority to grant her a pardon, you can do so."
"And if I do, we'll have dozens of people screaming about tyranny and the mishandling of the justice system."
The JAG officer noded. "Another option is to put her through a military court, and use that to challenge the previous conviction." "Any other options?"
"Stash her somewhere, gather evidence for an appeal, and fight it out in federal courts." Johnson frowned. "But that only works as long as you're Governor. Which means that when the city is handed back to civilian control, the PRT gets jurisdiction again."
"And she ends up arrested."
"Yes."
Herres sighed. "Alright, professional opinion of her case and conviction?"
"It was the best case of railroading I've ever seen. It wasn't lawyers who did that, it was fucking engineers for how perfect it was." Herres waved his hand for more details. "Her lawyer was a year out of school, working as a public defender with fifteen other cases. The man barely had time to take a shit, let alone get a solid defence going."
Johnson grumbled. "And that conviction? A death sentence for unintended sexual assault? Judge Roberts made it clear in his verdict. He wasn't punishing the girl for her crimes. She was just the message to anyone else who might have powers like her. Fall in line, or get crushed."
"Talk to me about the Birdcage."
"It's a legal precedent that bends the rules like they're pretzels. And is basically held together by string and chewing gum." Johnson sighs. "It hinges on Dragon. She bought land from the Canadian Government, and then built the prison. So it's technically, 'private property'. But Dragon is a recognized Federal Employee thanks to the treaty that allowed the creation of the PRT Toronto branch. So a Judge in a criminal case can control sentencing, which also means 'where' the prisoner is held. So if, like Judge Roberts did with Paige Mcabee, a judge sentences a prisoner to Baumann? They aren't technically sentencing them to a 'prison'. The Judge is sentencing them to the care of a Federal Warden, Dragon. Who has only one place to put them. A prison, on private property."
"With no appeals, where the prisoners are the guards, no communication in or out, no inspections, and no review board."
"Yes, under Constitutional Law, and several dozen cases of precedent law, that prison shouldn't exist. But it does. Because it solves a problem. It's seen as a reasonable solution to the problem of Capes, without getting involved with repealing the death sentence in most states."
"That's the thing, isn't it? How bad things can be made to sound reasonable…like breaking a woman's jaw to keep her from using her super powered voice. Like removing her teeth to make sure she can eat. All seems reasonable…until you look back at everything as a whole and look at the evil you've done."
Herres looked back at the frozen screen, quiet for a moment. "You think we have a case?"
"Personally? What was done to that woman was a horrible mockery of our justice system, and the basic rights of the Constitution. Her treatment before, during, and after her trial are shameful, cruel, and an attack on the safety of every citizen of our country."
Johnson looked him dead in the eye. "Professional opinion? You've got one hell of a case. With a good lawyer? You can make the PRT bleed for this mess that they created."
"YOU ARE A BUTCHA'!" The great shout, then thud, from outside had the two men out the door in moments.
Standing in the hall was CMO Elban, holding the PRT officer's jacket in his fists. He had clearly just slammed the man into the wall, because the officer was reeling.
"That's enough!" Herres roared.
Elban looked over slowly. Blinked at Colonel Herres, before releasing the man and snapping to a picture perfect salute. The PRT officer slumped down, catching himself before he hit the floor. The guard outside Herres' door looked to him for order. "Doctor Elban, my office, now!" The tall black man marched into the office that Herres had commandeered. The Colonel closed the door, after waving the JAG officer back in.
Herres took in the taller man. Elban stared right ahead, his jaw rigid. "Doctor Elban. Your assessment of Paige Mcabee?" The Doctor handed him a written report, several pages long. Herres glanced over the first page, before dropping it on his desk. "At ease. Summarize for me Doctor."
Elban sighed, relaxing a little. "Subject is suffering from malnutrition, and dehydration. She is underweight, although not to an unhealthy degree. She has abrasions on her body consistent with exploring the damaged areas of Boston. The rest of the assessment was carried out by a dental specialist. She has bleeding of the gums from extended poor oral hygiene, and signs of infection from improper post treatment care after four teeth were removed. The 'lock' between her upper and lower jaw is installed correctly, but it also shows signs of infection. The setting of the jawbone was done in an acceptable but imperfect manner. She would likely have had pain from muscles being stressed in unexpected ways." He took a breath.
"At the moment, I can't theorize on damage her liver or kidneys might have experienced due to repeated use of whatever drug they were using to knock her out. Also, a discrete questioning by one of my female staff reports that Ms. Mcabee does not suspect any cases of sexual assault. Either when she was conscious, or unconscious."
"That lines up with Panacea's account. I trust you documented everything?"
"Yes Sir. Photos and video. Both are being recorded in a variety of mediums."
Herres nodded, slowly coming to terms with things. This was a fight outside of his duties inside Boston. Some would say that he was overreaching with his authority. But all his life, and all his time in the military, he had known that there was right, and there was wrong. And this was a chance to right a wrong. And that was always worth doing.
"I will ask Panacea to heal her completely. Elban, you oversee that. And get a dentist or an oral surgeon to remove the hardware. If you can't find one on staff, or in the camps, we'll see about bringing one in." The big man nodded. "In the meantime, I'm going to ask Ms. Hebert if she can develop a more humane way of containing Ms. Mcabee's powers."
"In the meantime… CMO Elban. Take the rest of the day off. Oversee Ms. Mcabee's care, then transfer command to your second. Find some peace, come back tomorrow. Dismissed" The Doctor nodded, saluted, then walked out. "Johnson, please get me that PRT officer."
Herres called out to the guard at the door. Stood as the man walked in. "Officer. I'll make this short. Paige Mcabee will not be transferred to your custody. In fact, I'm about to get on the phone and demand to know why the PRT didn't tell my office, or the Boston Police that there were fugitives at large in the city. I will demand to know why a capture team of PRT capes, and PRT officers, was active in my city where you have NO jurisdiction!"
Planting his fists on the desk, he leaned forward. "I am going to have a unit of Military Police and JAG officers escort you back to your prisoners. They will review your actions, they will review the state of your prisoners, and they will stay with you until you leave this city."
The Colonel paused for a moment. "Am I understood?"
"And that's everything, Ms. Hebert."
He leaned back in his chair as he looked across the desk at Taylor. She had been prompt in responding to his summons. But with the drawdown of the LRL, a lot of her time had been spent analyzing the data from the machines, along with fine-tuning the Focus network now that she had added enhancements to the network to allow streaming and better datalink.
Even now, there were times when he struggled with the scale of a quantum leap forward in not only communications, but datalink systems that the Focus represented. To have it all on nearly instantaneous demand and be able to communicate immediately through the network provided a strategic and tactical flexibility that was unmatched, was nothing sort of awe-inspiring.
The media may focus on the LRL and it certainly made a difference in the lives that it had saved. But to him, the Focus was the true hero of Boston. Without them, rescuers would have taken days to do what was now accomplished in hours. Nor would Herres be able to flex the logistical might of the military and rescue services so finely like they had done here.
And despite the age of the girl, and the attached criticisms he was starting to get from outside sources? Taylor Hebert had shown herself, once she had awoken, to be a solid asset in providing assistance in almost any matter when asked.
But he was distracting himself from the here and now. What mattered now was if Ms. Hebert was able to work something up that he would be able to use against the grave injustice the PRT had done to Ms. Mcabee.
"Do we have access to the PRT files on her?" was the first question that escaped the girl's mouth, "power testing, observations from officers, any notes from Dragon?"
"No. But I can demand them."
The teenager shook her head, "They'd be helpful if you can get them within the next day, but that doesn't help Canary at this moment," she fell silent, and he had no doubt she was looking through something on her Focus. How she was able to use it so adroitly without having to use her hand was a point of curiosity for himself, but he had a feeling that it was more the expertise of the inventor instead of anything nefarious.
"Okay, a lot of this is based upon conjecture," she finally said, "but, I might be able to work something up. I will need to have access to her, and we'll need to find someone willing to be a test subject for a Master."
"A test subject?"
"I need to confirm a few things about her power before I can start providing a solution. If there is one. Mainly it's about the expression of her power and how it's transmitted. If it's transmitted through sound or if there is another hidden mechanic of it. If it's solely through sound, then the question becomes the origin point of its transmission. If it's through the vocal box, then that narrows it down even further. At that point, the question would be if it's tied to a specific vocal pattern, or if it's broad-spectrum and just uses her voice as the medium. If it's the former, the solution could be something as simple as putting together something that would change the pattern, and if it's the latter, something like a throat microphone should work. She'd have to be trained on how to use it, of course. But, like I said, there are options, but I need to have the time and access to her in order to pin it down."
All that in less than eight minutes, he thought to himself as he glanced at the clock.
"Alright Ms. Hebert. We'll get you what you need. But I'm cutting orders for Captain Schofield to make sure that you are nowhere near the testing area. Dismissed."
The scarred blind girl nodded, and walked out. Her security team fell in around her.
Colonel Herres sat back down at his desk, and began to tackle the next problem.
Paige Mcabee
I pulled my jacket tighter, trying to ward off the morning cold. The last two days were… something out of a dream for me. I woke up this morning and wasn't cold. I wasn't waking up huddled under newspapers or in some broken apartment.
After the interview, this Cape named Panacea came in to speak with me. Her costume was mud stained white, with red crosses on it. She explained that she was a healer, and that… she could fix me. She put her hood down, and had frizzy hair, with freckles on her cheeks. Then… she took my hand and everything felt better. I relaxed, just felt… warmth flow over me. Everything was a haze after that. I remember people, lights, sounds. But I wasn't afraid. I could feel her hand, holding mine. And it was still holding mine when the world came back into focus. And she held my hand as I cried, because nothing hurt. My jaw didn't hurt, swallowing didn't hurt, my missing teeth didn't hurt. In fact!
I ran my tongue across my teeth. Marveling that they were all there. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, I smiled. Just… so thrilled to feel whole again. I had gotten a shower, and a quick haircut. Not the butchery that the PRT subjected me to. But something respectable; my hair was shorter now. Barely reaching my shoulders. It was enough that…everyone could see my new accessories.
"Hello there Ms. Paige. How're you doing today?" I looked over, seeing Taylor walk over with her guards. Why she had guards, I didn't ask. I mean, I had guards. Two of them, both from the Military Police. It was odd, seeing so many people in uniforms. It took a moment to pull my tablet from the small backpack I had been given. "Hello Taylor."
"Hmm, you know that you don't have to do that right? I'm confident in the neck-piece that I made for you." I nodded, not really ready to say that I didn't trust it. Taylor had made it for me yesterday, apparently after a day of testing. It was a wide strip of metal that curved around the front of my throat. And connected to the headpiece that I was wearing as a headband. We tested it once. And…it wasn't uncomfortable. I could talk normally. But when I tried to use my powers? It made my voice distort, with the pitch swinging up and down. The soldier I tried to use it on broke down laughing, instead of standing on the crate like I was ordering him to.
Taylor looked at me for a moment or, at least I think she did. Wearing dark sunglasses in the morning would have been a bold fashion choice, or the sign of a hangover. But she had made it clear when we met up that she was blind. The glasses were for everyone else's benefit.
Panacea walked up, with her guards. She was bundled up in her costume, with a jacket on top. She was nursing a cup of coffee in her hands. "Morning," said Taylor.
"I hate mornings."
Well…someone wasn't a morning person. I smiled, and it felt good to smile. Taylor promised that she would make me a better voice-inhibitor when we got back to her factory. Apparently, the PRT wouldn't be able to touch me there. I wasn't ready to speak yet, nor thank my rescuers properly. But one day.
One day I would. Thank them. And sing again.
I raised a hand to shield my eyes as the helicopters landed, and let my guards hustle me into the second one. Taylor and Amy would ride together, and we would all meet up in Brockton Bay.
As we took off into the air, I watched the ground fall away, and felt free for the first time in months.
Free as a bird.
(END)
Sprout 3.3.5 - Freebird
Boston
One week after Leviathan hit the city.
I ran into someone. My shoulder hurt, and my ribs. It hurt to breathe, but I couldn't stop. They went down, cried out. I didn't want to hurt anyone, I didn't mean to hurt anyone. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't. If they caught me, I would go back. And I couldn't go back. To sit and wait, and wonder how my life was going to end.
I gripped a pole, scraping my palms. Turned the corner quickly. This road was more clear. I ran as fast as I could. Splashing through mud, trying not to slip and fall. Everything would end if I slipped.
"There she is!" "Cut left!"
I could hear a whine in the air, like a bird. I ducked, not daring to look back. I heaved in air through my nose, my scars stretching and painful. I felt something wet run down the skin of my throat, might be sweat, might be blood. I couldn't stop.
In the corner of my eye, I could see someone running. Bright colours, splattered with mud. A cape. I couldn't let them catch me.
Another turn, I could feel them at my back. I couldn't go back there. Just run, keep running. My lungs hurt, I wanted to cry. Darkness fogged up the edge of my sight.
Ahead of me, was the camp entrance. Guarded. Watchful uniforms to keep the peace. Different from them. Maybe these would be different. The Guards raised their hands, shouted orders. Hands on weapons, then weapons raised. I couldn't slow down to explain. I could see their faces, maybe they could see mine. I threw myself to the ground, feeling the gravel claw at my skin.
I scrambled, clawing at their boots. Curling up around their legs, pressing closer. Please God, let them protect me. My lungs burned for oxygen, blackness pressed in around my eyes. I spoke as much as I could. Please help me. Don't let them take me. Please help me. I don't know what I sounded like. Blood hammered in my ears. The blackness won; and I felt hands on my shoulders.
"Heh meh. Heh me pleys."
AEH
"Stop right there! Stay where you are!"
"That woman is a wanted fugitive and we are taking her in!"
"Step back! You! Stay where you are! Let us sort this out."
"There's nothing to sort out! We.."
"PRT Boston is suspended while Martial Law is in effect, you have no authority here! Malan, check her."
"On it chief. Ma'am? Can you hear me? Ma'am? Shit, looks like she fainted. Hold up… shit! Fuck me! 'This is south gate, I need a medic team and transport, urgent! Collapsed female, signs of torture, possible mutilation.' This woman's in a bad way, Chief."
"Fuck me.. 'This is South Gate Chief Rodan, calling Colonel Herres for a developing situation, requesting backup.' Stay the fuck where you are Cape! This is a Military matter now."
"That woman is a wanted Cape, and belongs in PRT custody! We are the only ones who can hold her."
"Another move, and I start shooting. Back the fuck up!"
"Chief? I think this woman is Canary."
"Oh Fuck me… 'This is Rodan, connect me directly with Colonel Herres, urgent backup needed at South Gate.'"
AEH
I sat. Breathing. My sides hurt, my legs hurt. I kept looking down at my wrists… but still no cuffs. Opening my eyes had been the worst part. Would I wake up in a cell? My hands locked in those heavy manacles again? In some dark room with no power? A van, driving me to hell on earth?
The reality was… mundane. I opened my eyes to a cot, in a tent. A medical drip was attached to my arm. I wanted to take it out, but the uniformed guard made me hesitate. Aside from my cot, the wool blanket covering my legs, there was a table, some chairs, and grass for a floor. I could hear the sounds of the camp around me, people moving about, conversation, shouting in the distance. The tent flap opened, and a man and a woman entered. I tried to stand; freezing as the woman took large steps towards me. I flinched as she reached for me.
The woman wore a military uniform of some kind. The man was wearing the browns of a state trooper, he was younger, and he carried a case under his arm. On both their temples, I could see the blue glow of a Focus. I had heard about those. Listening to the teams going around Boston, listening to the radio, listening the first and only time that I went to the camp for food.
The military woman was strong, pulling me up. Gently though. She guided me to the chair sitting across from them. The trooper was already there, staring at my face… oh. I lowered my eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face. I guess my scarf came off. I hope I wasn't bleeding. Everyone settled in, and I kept my eyes on the table, clasping my fingers together. Still surprised that there were no cuffs.
"Ms. Mcabee? My name is Captain Miriam Semrad of the Judge Advocate General's Corps. This is Trooper Waldren of the Massachusetts State Patrol." Trooper Waldren nodded. "We are informing you now that you're being recorded. This is for your safety and for ours. Do you understand what we're telling you?" I nodded slightly, my hair tickling the back of my neck, and falling around my ears. I wanted to tuck it away, but didn't want to move and startle the guards.
Captain Semrad leaned forward. "Ms. Mcabee, it's important that you clearly acknowledge that you understand." Oh no, she thinks… I nodded frantically. Slowly, I pulled my hand up, covering my mouth completely. Then with one finger. I hope she understands.
She frowned, "You can't speak? Alright, wait a moment, we'll solve this." Then she just… walked out of the tent. I stared after her, looking at that slice of blue sky. Trooper Waldren spoke up, he sounded young. "Don't worry about her. She's straightlaced, but knows her stuff. She'll be back in a moment."
The state trooper put his hands on the table, palms up. "Here, can you give me your hands? I know you took a tumble when you met the guards, we don't want to let those scrapes get infected." I slowly stretched my hands forward. Turning them over, I could see the scrapes. Funny, I didn't feel them. Waldren hummed for a moment, pulling his case closer. I blinked, it was… purple. A dark purple. With flowers stitched in. The man must have noticed because he smiled, "Don't judge. My wife made it for me. Told me that 'big bad state troopers need to soften their image'. It's something of a good luck charm now." Ripping open an alcohol swab, he started gently swiping my hands. It stung, and I flinched. "Sorry sorry, I know it stings. We'll be done in a moment." We sat in silence. It was funny, the things that you miss. With those heavy manacles on, with the guards and the restraints… I hadn't held someone's hand in a long time. His hands were cold, but mine were hot. It was nice.
"There we go, we should be good now." The trooper's voice pulled me out of my head. He turned my hands over. "Well that won't do. Hold on, we can fix that." I didn't understand what he was talking about. He reached back into his purple flower pouch and pulled out… nail clippers. I suddenly felt mortified, staring down at my fingers. My nails were long. And cracked, and chipped, and it had been so long since I cared or had time to… Click. I blinked. The young man inspected his work, then clipped again. One by one… I… started to look civilized again.
Something tightened in my chest. I breathed deep through my nose, fully aware that my jaw was sealed. I swallowed. "There we go! Much better. Alright, decision time Ms. Mcabee. It's an important one." He smiled at me. It made me feel… like something other than a mess. Like my old self. He reached into his pack and pulled out nail polish… I must have looked confused because he grinned. "My wife told me to always be prepared. And yes, she packed these. So you have two colours. Quiet-Seduction… also known as red. Or Marina-Dive… also known as light blue." I smiled. Making sure to keep my mouth closed. God… how long ago was it since I smiled? I pointed. Blue would do. Although he was wrong. That's not 'blue', that's two shades lighter than 'robin egg blue'. I wondered where the Captain went…? I know my sense of time was off, but maybe this was going faster than expected?
I let go of those thoughts as Trooper Waldren firmly took my hand, and delicately started painting my nails. There was something so nostalgic about it. "My wife works at this cute little clothing boutique, and she always told me that her nails should match her outfits for the week. Yes, she planned her outfits for the week. My wife is a very organized woman. The boutique didn't survive, but she was just fine. Recently we met up and…"
I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath through the lump in my throat. I remembered the good times backstage before a show. Picking out clothes, accessories, makeup. The chatter of my stylist as he worked. God…I missed those days.
"There we go, good to go." He said with a smile. I looked at my nails. Trimmed short, freshly painted. And he did a good job also. No splatter. With this done I… I relaxed. I felt… human again. I wanted to blow on them, get the paint to dry faster. But… that wasn't possible. I didn't want him to see.
The tent opened, and the Captain walked in, a tablet under her arm. I looked in shock, worried that Waldren would get in trouble for interacting with me. I started to shake my head, not wanting him to get in trouble like the previous time…
She spared a glance, but otherwise didn't comment. I was relieved. She placed a tablet in front of me. Keyboard on the screen. "This will let you communicate with us. It might be slower, but it will speak what you write. Give it a try." Oh… for a moment I was angry. Or hurt. Or… I don't know what I felt. But I remember the trial. I remembered how hard it was to get in touch with anyone, even my own lawyer.
I tapped away, mindful to keep my fingers steady. I didn't want to smudge my nails. "Please don't send me back" The two of them looked at one another. Waldren spoke up, having returned everything to his case. "Right now, it's important we understand what happened, Paige. Can you tell us how you got out of PRT Boston? The more we know, the better our superiors can make a decision."
They had to keep me. I didn't want to go back. If I answered, they might keep me. I didn't do anything wrong. "I was released. With the others. Someone named Armstrong. Came on the intercom, then the doors all opened. My cuffs fell off." Captain Semrad was writing notes, Waldren was just sitting watching me. I swallowed as I typed away. The robotic voice of the tablet filled the silence with a light female voice. "He said; Leviathan is coming. Run, or fight. No one deserves to die in a cell. I ran. Some prisoners fought each other. I got outside. Started running."
"You ran into the city? How did you survive the attack?"
"I hid. Found a Parking Garage. Climbed the inside stairway, up and up." My hands started shaking. I had been so afraid. Worse than the trial. Or after the trial. "The water was rising. And the roof was damaged. Rain was coming in, falling down the stairs. I could hear crashing outside. Rumbling. I hid." I was trembling.
"Paige, you're safe now. Take a deep breath for me, okay? Deeeeppp breath, good." Waldren spoke up, as Captain Semrad wrote a few notes down. I breathed through my nose, in and out. I was safe. Nothing would happen to me. I was safe. Please let me be safe.
A moment passed, before Captain Semrad spoke, looking up from her notes. "You made it clear before that you can't speak. Is that an injury from the attack? Debris or something else?"
I shook my head. My hair and feathers flying everywhere. I desperately needed to cut it. "No." I didn't want to say more. But the Captain wasn't willing. "If something happened to you, Ms. Mcabee, we need to know about it." I glanced at Waldren, who gave me a firm nod, and a small smile.
"It was when they arrested me. They were shouting. I didn't understand what was happening. Wanted to ask questions. They hit me." I mimed punching my jaw. The two of them looked at each other again. Just a quick glance. "A PRT trooper hit you? One of the Protectorate heroes?" I shook my head, looking down at the table. "I don't know. It hurt, and it was loud. I couldn't focus. They kept shouting; 'don't let her sing'."
"But you were provided treatment when they had you in detention, correct?" Waldren asked, making me look up again. He was looking at me with such a look of concern. Captain Semrad was writing furiously. I tilted my head side to side. Tapping away at the screen took some time. "No. I woke up in a cell. They told me that my jaw was damaged, and that it had been wired shut for my safety. Everything hurt."
"Were you given anything for the pain?"
"I think so, but it's hazy. I kept being drugged. They had a collar on me. To make me sleep. So… I didn't feel much pain for long."
"I'm no dentist, but wiring your jaw shut would make it very hard to eat. And drink. Were you getting enough food and water?"
Oh no. I closed my eyes. Afraid that they would ask that. "Yes. They…" I took a moment to break, shaking out my fingers. The nice blue tips of my nails caught my eyes. It was a lovely colour. "They removed my front teeth. Two of them. So I can drink, and eat. With a straw." There. I said it. Now they would know I'm ugly. I remembered finding a mirror. Crying in front of it when I stumbled out after Leviathan had left. I stared at the table. Not wanting to see the look in their eyes.
Someone stood up, and I could see a hand reaching across the table. I glanced up. Waldren laid his hand on top of mine, while Captain Semrad spoke softly but urgently in the corner. The glow of her Focus was obvious.
"Alright Paige. We're going to get a doctor to look at you, alright? Just to make sure you're alright." I nodded, resigning myself to it all. I wanted to hope that they would keep me. Please don't send me back to the Birdcage.
Captain Semrad walked over. "Ms. Mcabee. I am formally informing you that you are being held in military custody. You will not be transferred over to PRT custody, and we will require a full interview as to your treatment under their care."
I cried. Leaning over, placed my head on the table and cried. With teary eyes, I pulled the tablet closer. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
I kept hitting the repeat button until Waldren gently took the tablet away from me.
AEH
Herres
Colonel Herres was a man juggling with chainsaws. For the past week he had given thousands of instructions in order to establish some sense of organization to the devastated city of Boston. He had enough problems. He didn't need more.
Too bad that the universe didn't agree with that sentiment.
He sat in his office, watching the screen that had been pulled in. With him was Colonel Mathew Johnson, of the JAG. Boston had seen a number of military police and Judge Advocate General officers arriving over the past week. Bolstering the decimated Boston police and justice department. Colonel Johnson had been the first person Herres had called when he received the news that a wanted, convicted, parahuman appeared at his gates begging for protection.
Now the two men had to sort out this mess.
"Very nice empathy play with Waldren. Boy's got talent."
"He's genuinely a nice man according to his co-workers. He was outside the city during the Leviathan mess. He's been trying to prove himself ever since."
"Well, keep an eye on him. Don't want to lose talent to burnout." The video they watched was an hour old now. Techs had gone over the whole thing to make sure that nothing would impact the viewers.
Herres paused the video as Paige was telling the officers about her treatment by the PRT. "We had a cape healer, Panacea, take a look at her while she was unconscious. The officers were not made aware of her injuries, so their reactions aren't compromised. I have a write up of Panacea's findings, and am waiting for my Docs to give me theirs. So far? Everything Canary is saying lines up. Panacea also paralyzed her vocal cords, just in case."
Herres reached for a pen on his desk, twisting it between his fingers. "What are my options Johnson?"
The older Colonel looked at him, then back at the monitor. "You want my professional or personal opinion?"
"Let's start with professional."
"Legally, the President has suspended the operations of the PRT inside the Boston area. Anything PRT related is meant to report to you, or the JAG office, or the Police department."
"Which means that the capture team I've got engaged in a staring contest with my soldiers is legally tricky."
Johnson barked a laugh. "Escaped fugitives should be the responsibility of the States Marshals. But the PRT could argue that away." He grew serious. "No, the trouble is if you don't want to turn that young woman back to the PRT."
"I already said I wouldn't."
"I know, but there's a mountain of shit to come because of it. Look, if you want to use your special authority to grant her a pardon, you can do so."
"And if I do, we'll have dozens of people screaming about tyranny and the mishandling of the justice system."
The JAG officer noded. "Another option is to put her through a military court, and use that to challenge the previous conviction." "Any other options?"
"Stash her somewhere, gather evidence for an appeal, and fight it out in federal courts." Johnson frowned. "But that only works as long as you're Governor. Which means that when the city is handed back to civilian control, the PRT gets jurisdiction again."
"And she ends up arrested."
"Yes."
Herres sighed. "Alright, professional opinion of her case and conviction?"
"It was the best case of railroading I've ever seen. It wasn't lawyers who did that, it was fucking engineers for how perfect it was." Herres waved his hand for more details. "Her lawyer was a year out of school, working as a public defender with fifteen other cases. The man barely had time to take a shit, let alone get a solid defence going."
Johnson grumbled. "And that conviction? A death sentence for unintended sexual assault? Judge Roberts made it clear in his verdict. He wasn't punishing the girl for her crimes. She was just the message to anyone else who might have powers like her. Fall in line, or get crushed."
"Talk to me about the Birdcage."
"It's a legal precedent that bends the rules like they're pretzels. And is basically held together by string and chewing gum." Johnson sighs. "It hinges on Dragon. She bought land from the Canadian Government, and then built the prison. So it's technically, 'private property'. But Dragon is a recognized Federal Employee thanks to the treaty that allowed the creation of the PRT Toronto branch. So a Judge in a criminal case can control sentencing, which also means 'where' the prisoner is held. So if, like Judge Roberts did with Paige Mcabee, a judge sentences a prisoner to Baumann? They aren't technically sentencing them to a 'prison'. The Judge is sentencing them to the care of a Federal Warden, Dragon. Who has only one place to put them. A prison, on private property."
"With no appeals, where the prisoners are the guards, no communication in or out, no inspections, and no review board."
"Yes, under Constitutional Law, and several dozen cases of precedent law, that prison shouldn't exist. But it does. Because it solves a problem. It's seen as a reasonable solution to the problem of Capes, without getting involved with repealing the death sentence in most states."
"That's the thing, isn't it? How bad things can be made to sound reasonable…like breaking a woman's jaw to keep her from using her super powered voice. Like removing her teeth to make sure she can eat. All seems reasonable…until you look back at everything as a whole and look at the evil you've done."
Herres looked back at the frozen screen, quiet for a moment. "You think we have a case?"
"Personally? What was done to that woman was a horrible mockery of our justice system, and the basic rights of the Constitution. Her treatment before, during, and after her trial are shameful, cruel, and an attack on the safety of every citizen of our country."
Johnson looked him dead in the eye. "Professional opinion? You've got one hell of a case. With a good lawyer? You can make the PRT bleed for this mess that they created."
"YOU ARE A BUTCHA'!" The great shout, then thud, from outside had the two men out the door in moments.
Standing in the hall was CMO Elban, holding the PRT officer's jacket in his fists. He had clearly just slammed the man into the wall, because the officer was reeling.
"That's enough!" Herres roared.
Elban looked over slowly. Blinked at Colonel Herres, before releasing the man and snapping to a picture perfect salute. The PRT officer slumped down, catching himself before he hit the floor. The guard outside Herres' door looked to him for order. "Doctor Elban, my office, now!" The tall black man marched into the office that Herres had commandeered. The Colonel closed the door, after waving the JAG officer back in.
Herres took in the taller man. Elban stared right ahead, his jaw rigid. "Doctor Elban. Your assessment of Paige Mcabee?" The Doctor handed him a written report, several pages long. Herres glanced over the first page, before dropping it on his desk. "At ease. Summarize for me Doctor."
Elban sighed, relaxing a little. "Subject is suffering from malnutrition, and dehydration. She is underweight, although not to an unhealthy degree. She has abrasions on her body consistent with exploring the damaged areas of Boston. The rest of the assessment was carried out by a dental specialist. She has bleeding of the gums from extended poor oral hygiene, and signs of infection from improper post treatment care after four teeth were removed. The 'lock' between her upper and lower jaw is installed correctly, but it also shows signs of infection. The setting of the jawbone was done in an acceptable but imperfect manner. She would likely have had pain from muscles being stressed in unexpected ways." He took a breath.
"At the moment, I can't theorize on damage her liver or kidneys might have experienced due to repeated use of whatever drug they were using to knock her out. Also, a discrete questioning by one of my female staff reports that Ms. Mcabee does not suspect any cases of sexual assault. Either when she was conscious, or unconscious."
"That lines up with Panacea's account. I trust you documented everything?"
"Yes Sir. Photos and video. Both are being recorded in a variety of mediums."
Herres nodded, slowly coming to terms with things. This was a fight outside of his duties inside Boston. Some would say that he was overreaching with his authority. But all his life, and all his time in the military, he had known that there was right, and there was wrong. And this was a chance to right a wrong. And that was always worth doing.
"I will ask Panacea to heal her completely. Elban, you oversee that. And get a dentist or an oral surgeon to remove the hardware. If you can't find one on staff, or in the camps, we'll see about bringing one in." The big man nodded. "In the meantime, I'm going to ask Ms. Hebert if she can develop a more humane way of containing Ms. Mcabee's powers."
"In the meantime… CMO Elban. Take the rest of the day off. Oversee Ms. Mcabee's care, then transfer command to your second. Find some peace, come back tomorrow. Dismissed" The Doctor nodded, saluted, then walked out. "Johnson, please get me that PRT officer."
Herres called out to the guard at the door. Stood as the man walked in. "Officer. I'll make this short. Paige Mcabee will not be transferred to your custody. In fact, I'm about to get on the phone and demand to know why the PRT didn't tell my office, or the Boston Police that there were fugitives at large in the city. I will demand to know why a capture team of PRT capes, and PRT officers, was active in my city where you have NO jurisdiction!"
Planting his fists on the desk, he leaned forward. "I am going to have a unit of Military Police and JAG officers escort you back to your prisoners. They will review your actions, they will review the state of your prisoners, and they will stay with you until you leave this city."
The Colonel paused for a moment. "Am I understood?"
AEH
"And that's everything, Ms. Hebert."
He leaned back in his chair as he looked across the desk at Taylor. She had been prompt in responding to his summons. But with the drawdown of the LRL, a lot of her time had been spent analyzing the data from the machines, along with fine-tuning the Focus network now that she had added enhancements to the network to allow streaming and better datalink.
Even now, there were times when he struggled with the scale of a quantum leap forward in not only communications, but datalink systems that the Focus represented. To have it all on nearly instantaneous demand and be able to communicate immediately through the network provided a strategic and tactical flexibility that was unmatched, was nothing sort of awe-inspiring.
The media may focus on the LRL and it certainly made a difference in the lives that it had saved. But to him, the Focus was the true hero of Boston. Without them, rescuers would have taken days to do what was now accomplished in hours. Nor would Herres be able to flex the logistical might of the military and rescue services so finely like they had done here.
And despite the age of the girl, and the attached criticisms he was starting to get from outside sources? Taylor Hebert had shown herself, once she had awoken, to be a solid asset in providing assistance in almost any matter when asked.
But he was distracting himself from the here and now. What mattered now was if Ms. Hebert was able to work something up that he would be able to use against the grave injustice the PRT had done to Ms. Mcabee.
"Do we have access to the PRT files on her?" was the first question that escaped the girl's mouth, "power testing, observations from officers, any notes from Dragon?"
"No. But I can demand them."
The teenager shook her head, "They'd be helpful if you can get them within the next day, but that doesn't help Canary at this moment," she fell silent, and he had no doubt she was looking through something on her Focus. How she was able to use it so adroitly without having to use her hand was a point of curiosity for himself, but he had a feeling that it was more the expertise of the inventor instead of anything nefarious.
"Okay, a lot of this is based upon conjecture," she finally said, "but, I might be able to work something up. I will need to have access to her, and we'll need to find someone willing to be a test subject for a Master."
"A test subject?"
"I need to confirm a few things about her power before I can start providing a solution. If there is one. Mainly it's about the expression of her power and how it's transmitted. If it's transmitted through sound or if there is another hidden mechanic of it. If it's solely through sound, then the question becomes the origin point of its transmission. If it's through the vocal box, then that narrows it down even further. At that point, the question would be if it's tied to a specific vocal pattern, or if it's broad-spectrum and just uses her voice as the medium. If it's the former, the solution could be something as simple as putting together something that would change the pattern, and if it's the latter, something like a throat microphone should work. She'd have to be trained on how to use it, of course. But, like I said, there are options, but I need to have the time and access to her in order to pin it down."
All that in less than eight minutes, he thought to himself as he glanced at the clock.
"Alright Ms. Hebert. We'll get you what you need. But I'm cutting orders for Captain Schofield to make sure that you are nowhere near the testing area. Dismissed."
The scarred blind girl nodded, and walked out. Her security team fell in around her.
Colonel Herres sat back down at his desk, and began to tackle the next problem.
AEH
Paige Mcabee
I pulled my jacket tighter, trying to ward off the morning cold. The last two days were… something out of a dream for me. I woke up this morning and wasn't cold. I wasn't waking up huddled under newspapers or in some broken apartment.
After the interview, this Cape named Panacea came in to speak with me. Her costume was mud stained white, with red crosses on it. She explained that she was a healer, and that… she could fix me. She put her hood down, and had frizzy hair, with freckles on her cheeks. Then… she took my hand and everything felt better. I relaxed, just felt… warmth flow over me. Everything was a haze after that. I remember people, lights, sounds. But I wasn't afraid. I could feel her hand, holding mine. And it was still holding mine when the world came back into focus. And she held my hand as I cried, because nothing hurt. My jaw didn't hurt, swallowing didn't hurt, my missing teeth didn't hurt. In fact!
I ran my tongue across my teeth. Marveling that they were all there. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, I smiled. Just… so thrilled to feel whole again. I had gotten a shower, and a quick haircut. Not the butchery that the PRT subjected me to. But something respectable; my hair was shorter now. Barely reaching my shoulders. It was enough that…everyone could see my new accessories.
"Hello there Ms. Paige. How're you doing today?" I looked over, seeing Taylor walk over with her guards. Why she had guards, I didn't ask. I mean, I had guards. Two of them, both from the Military Police. It was odd, seeing so many people in uniforms. It took a moment to pull my tablet from the small backpack I had been given. "Hello Taylor."
"Hmm, you know that you don't have to do that right? I'm confident in the neck-piece that I made for you." I nodded, not really ready to say that I didn't trust it. Taylor had made it for me yesterday, apparently after a day of testing. It was a wide strip of metal that curved around the front of my throat. And connected to the headpiece that I was wearing as a headband. We tested it once. And…it wasn't uncomfortable. I could talk normally. But when I tried to use my powers? It made my voice distort, with the pitch swinging up and down. The soldier I tried to use it on broke down laughing, instead of standing on the crate like I was ordering him to.
Taylor looked at me for a moment or, at least I think she did. Wearing dark sunglasses in the morning would have been a bold fashion choice, or the sign of a hangover. But she had made it clear when we met up that she was blind. The glasses were for everyone else's benefit.
Panacea walked up, with her guards. She was bundled up in her costume, with a jacket on top. She was nursing a cup of coffee in her hands. "Morning," said Taylor.
"I hate mornings."
Well…someone wasn't a morning person. I smiled, and it felt good to smile. Taylor promised that she would make me a better voice-inhibitor when we got back to her factory. Apparently, the PRT wouldn't be able to touch me there. I wasn't ready to speak yet, nor thank my rescuers properly. But one day.
One day I would. Thank them. And sing again.
I raised a hand to shield my eyes as the helicopters landed, and let my guards hustle me into the second one. Taylor and Amy would ride together, and we would all meet up in Brockton Bay.
As we took off into the air, I watched the ground fall away, and felt free for the first time in months.
Free as a bird.
(END)
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Dr. Thunder
Philosopher-King of Florida
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/They
And poor Armstrong demonstrates why he's the best Director and why Leviathan probably made sure to drop a boat on his head.
Can't wait for some Cape to try and claim the "Diabolical Mini-Simurgh, Bad Canary" has Mastered Taylor and oh look giant robot dinosaurs who are here to protect Taylor and her friends
Can't wait for some Cape to try and claim the "Diabolical Mini-Simurgh, Bad Canary" has Mastered Taylor and oh look giant robot dinosaurs who are here to protect Taylor and her friends
Hexcalibur
Not So Ordinary Sword
- Location
- Somewhere
- Pronouns
- It
I don't know if this is fanon and I don't intend to reread Worm. It's depressing enough the first time. Doesn't Paige's power only let her make people susceptible to command when she sings? So anyone can command the people she mastered. I think it was used as a plot point in one fic where the ex that claimed he was in the concert came backstage anyway after being told that he can't go there. And when Paige told him to f*** himself he was not under the effect of her power.
MaimakteriAnn
(Verified Sleepy)
- Location
- Enormous And Round Terran Homeworld
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Dr
Pretty sure Paige shouldn't know what a focus is at this point.
chibipoe
May I tell you of the glory that is Catradora?
- Location
- Astoria, Oregon
She mentions after waking in the tent that she had heard about them while she was hiding during the past couple of days, before the PRT Snatcher team tried running her down.
This whole thing is made worse because, per PRT policy, during an Endbringer attack and during the Truce, PRT isn't supposed to be doing anything to arrest criminal capes. Hell, villain capes are freed during a attack which is why Armstrong did it. If it comes out that the PRT was running around a Endbringer attack site trying to arrest a cape, it will ensure that all villain capes will stop showing up to the defense.
Then, on top of this, you got the obvious railroading of a popular singer...a non-brute cape who has to focus her power through singing...and they had her locked up in restraints that would make any Brute cape chaff, prevented her from hiring her own lawyer, prevented her from speaking in her own defense (not even principle and paper?!), denied her ability to face her accuser, kept her doped up so she couldn't be asked questions or answer them (good opportunity here for her entire court case to tossed out on this fact alone, as people who are not mentally competent to stand trail don't get trails). I mean, it wouldn't be hard to make the PRT/Protectorate look like a bunch of fucking idiots just for them doing any one of those things, but piled together? Along with a Judge who in their closing statements admits that this was to send a message and had nothing to do with the crime she was accused of? That is a Judge you can sue for everything after getting them disbarred.
Hell, do a side by side comparison between some other capes being locked up and then compare it to Canary and just ask the obvious question about why they are different?
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chibipoe
May I tell you of the glory that is Catradora?
- Location
- Astoria, Oregon
The only issue I primarily see, is the dates would place this outside of the Endbringer truce, if I am not mistaken? I can't say entirely but I think the truce would have already run out? (Mind, even if it has, Martial Law is in effect so Herres' word is law and clearly he has no patience for this nonsense.)
- Location
- The Lair
The truce is over. And yes, Martial law is still in place.
- Location
- Minesota, USA
They still had no jurisdiction. Not that big of a leap to start asking "what other rules have the PRT broken?"
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
The probable answer would be "whatever they can get away with".
I would not be surprised at all if it turns out that Taylor is NOT the first High-Tech Thinker the PRT has encountered, but is the first to escape getting her tech misclassified as Tinkertech. Since up until now, the PRT has been the sole arbiter of whether or not something is tinkertech and also has total dominion over tinkertech, no one has been able to dispute their judgement, or even realize that technology Thinkers are a thing.
That may very well be the truth, but it isn't the truth as the public knows it. And that's all I'll say on the matter for the moment.
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
...Glenn's gonna need TWO livers and an extra box of shotgun ammo in addition To that time machine from Toybox, huh?
Now there is empirical recorded evidence they can't easily squish that the PRT mistreated the popular and attractive rogue while they were railroading her and violating all her rights, huh? And he burned a ton of favors keeping her off the news in a way they didn't want the first time...
Can Alexandria get a Second Trigger from sheer rage stress when it turns out Jack Ryan managed to survive somehow? :3
Now there is empirical recorded evidence they can't easily squish that the PRT mistreated the popular and attractive rogue while they were railroading her and violating all her rights, huh? And he burned a ton of favors keeping her off the news in a way they didn't want the first time...
Can Alexandria get a Second Trigger from sheer rage stress when it turns out Jack Ryan managed to survive somehow? :3
Either there should be more to this sentence, or "confident in the..." is the correct phrasing.