Homura I/Colin I/Taylor 0
- Location
- North Carolina, United Prefectures of Japanada
The atmosphere was oppressive, like a crushing weight pressing down upon on her. A hellish red glare permeated her sight, cast by the massive, uncontrolled firestorm on the horizon. Her leg was bent, twisted at an unnatural angle, the snapped bone inside slowly trying to fuse itself back together. And throughout it all, she could hear that terrible, distorted laughter. It echoed inside her skull, mocking her for her failure.
She struggled to lift herself up, to get back into the fight. She told herself that it wasn't over, that as long as Madoka was still alive, she still had a reason to carry on. Her hand groped for her shield, intending to withdraw one of her remaining Grief Seeds, only to freeze as she caught a glimpse of her foe.
Walpurgisnacht was completely unharmed. She had hit it with enough firepower to level a quarter of the city, and it hadn't even made a scratch. The realization sapped the strength from her limbs, and she fell back, her violet eyes dimming.
I can't kill it, she thought, numbly. I never could.
But why? Madoka had killed it before, in previous loops, albeit at the cost of her own life. So why couldn't she? Why was she so weak?
All she wanted to do was repay Madoka's kindness. To protect her, to save her from her fate. That was all! So why, after so long, after so many tries, why couldn't she do anything? She shuddered, tears welling up in her eyes. Everyone was dead. Everyone but her and Madoka. She hadn't changed anything. No, she had, she'd made things worse. Her attempts to save Madoka had doomed the girl's best friend as well, not to mention Kyoko Sakura.
She stared up at the sky, feeling a familiar sense of despair creeping over her. Once before, many loops ago, she had almost given in to it, only for Madoka to save her yet again. Now, though, she was alone. Alone and unable to muster even the slightest bit of resistance to the darkness engulfing her mind.
Then, footsteps. She heard the crunch of pulverized gravel and concrete, slowly approaching her crumpled form, and her heart stopped.
No. Not her. Don't make me watch it again, please!
A soft voice, thick with concern, reached her ears.
"Homura-chan?"
"Madoka!" Homura Akemi gasped, her eyes snapping open, heart hammering in her chest. Her body was drenched in sweat, and as she realized that the ceiling above her wasn't that of her apartment, a defeated feeling shot through her. A moment later, it struck her that the ceiling wasn't that of her hospital room, either.
Then her brain finally caught up with her, and she remembered where she was. The "Parahuman Response Team" building in downtown Brockton Bay, in the United States of America.
Earth Bet.
With a shallow sigh, Homura closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down. It wasn't a new experience for her; nightmares had become a common enough occurrence for her. This dream in particular, though, was relatively new. She'd had it several times since arriving on what was apparently a parallel Earth. An Earth seemingly devoid of Magical Girls, Witches, and the Incubator, but instead populated by "parahumans", people with unique and varied superpowers.
Sometimes, the dream was shorter. Sometimes, Madoka never showed up, and she succumbed to her despair. In other cases, it continued on for longer. Madoka made her wish, destroyed Walpurgisnacht, and went on to become...something else. The Incubator had wondered aloud if she was trying to become a god.
Those dreams were worse. It had only been a few weeks since then, and still, she could remember it vividly. Madoka's warmth, the kindness on her face. The terrified realization that the one who mattered most to her was about to go somewhere she couldn't follow. Pleading, begging, don't go, take me with you. She remembered it all, the memories accompanied by a phantom pain that could barely be called "phantom"; a stabbing sensation in her heart. The worst part, though, was what had happened immediately after that.
Something must have gone wrong. She saw it; the moment Madoka's smiling face shifted to one of surprise, then alarm. And then a sense of violent vertigo, the sensation of being thrown and dragged in multiple directions simultaneously-
And then nothing. Nothing, until she woke feeling the cold sting of the Atlantic ocean.
Madoka was gone. The time loop that she had been trapped in for so long was broken. If she knew that wherever Madoka had gone, she was safe, then maybe...maybe she could have accepted it. She could have finally let things end. But whatever it was that Madoka had been trying to do with her wish, it hadn't gone as planned. Madoka could be in danger, or worse-
Homura shook her head, sitting up in her bed. She couldn't let things end like this. She would find her way back to her own Earth, and figure out what had happened to her. Even if she had to wring that little white rat's neck for answers.
...Not that she was in any position to do that, at the moment.
Sighing, she checked the time. The alarm clock in her assigned quarters read that it was just after seven in the morning. Earlier than she would have liked, but late enough that it wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep. So, she got out of bed and started on what had come to be her morning routine since she took up residence in the PRT-ENE headquarters. A shower, most of which was spent on maintaining her hair, followed by changing into one of the plain, almost universally black and/or white sets of clothing the PRT had provided her. So far she had mainly stuck to the skirts out of familiarity, but her growing annoyance at having to hide her shield's storage capabilities was making her reconsider solely for access to pockets. She would have to get a bag or purse of some kind soon if she intended to continue this Ward charade for any real length of time.
Speaking of, right, today was the day she was supposed to talk with the PRT about potential guardians for her. I can't wait, she thought sarcastically, emerging from her private quarters and into the central area of the Wards' headquarters within the bowels of the PRT building. Glancing at the monitors running along one side of the room, she frowned at the sight of the screen reserved for tour schedules, of all things.
What kind of law enforcement agency ran tours of its headquarters? Initially, she had thought that "Miss Militia" had just given her an in-depth tour due to her being a potential recruit. But no, to her surprise, that had been the official tour route, open to the public. The official tour route that included the armory.
She'd been spared having to meet any of the tour-goers so far on account of not yet having been "introduced". As she began to search for where she'd left that stupid visor she'd been given, she pondered the fact that she was likely going to have to actually participate in things like that, going forward.
Not for the first time, she wondered if what she was doing was a good idea. But then, what other option did she have? She had three Grief Seeds left after her most recent (and perhaps last) battle with Walpurgisnacht, and as far as she could tell, no way to get more. If anyone could help her overcome the obstacles in her way, it would likely be the PRT. They could call upon an entire roster of so-called "heroes", not to mention the funding and resources of the United States government. And beyond that, even if some independent hero or villain could resolve the expiration date on her soul, there was one thing she needed even more, something that only the PRT could provide-
There it is.
Retrieving the visor, she once again reminded herself that there was no reason not to at least try and keep up appearances for a bit longer. To accomplish her main goal, she would need to make use of her time stop and start snooping around, something she was loathe to do until she had at least tried to resolve her Grief Seed issue. Which wrapped back around to her annoyance with the PRT, and its seeming inability to prioritize. Her new "boss", Armsmaster, was supposed to be one of the Protectorate's top Tinkers. He stood at least some chance of being able to analyze her Soul Gem. And yet, the PRT was more concerned with getting her transferred into school and put with a legal guardian and other things that fundamentally did not matter.
As she fastened the visor to her face, she mused that at least several of her new coworkers appeared to share her opinion. Armsmaster himself had seemed slightly annoyed when he explained that even with her consent, without a legal guardian's permission the PRT could not involve her in laboratory testing until the Youth Guard had a chance to review the paperwork and sign off on it. And when she had commented on the bureaucracy surrounding her situation to her fellow Wards, she had received sympathy from Vista, as well as a derogatory comment about "pencil pushers" from Shadow Stalker, who to Homura seemed to be much like Kyoko Sakura, if someone sawed off all the likeable parts of her personality.
Once her visor was firmly in place, she transformed into her Magical Girl outfit, once again marveling at how strange the "cape" phenomenon of Earth Bet was. It was like something out of a comic book. But then, the Incubator's system bore a certain similarity to anime and manga, probably by design.
Putting that thought aside, she made her way out of the room and down the corridor to the elevator. She had at least an hour or so to kill, so she might as well get breakfast. Getting in the elevator, she pressed the button for the floor containing the building's cafeteria. Smoothly and quietly, the Tinkertech elevator reserved for the Wards began to rise, and within moments deposited her at her destination.
At such an early hour, the PRT building was hardly a hive of activity. It wasn't completely empty, though, and Homura found herself exchanging nods and greetings with an office worker and a pair of uniformed officers as she passed them in the halls. The PRT rank-and-file had become oddly chatty to her as of late, ever since she had been introduced to her fellow Wards. It almost felt like the building's staff had been ordered to be nice to her, as ridiculous as that sounded. Maybe it was an American thing.
She was almost to the cafeteria when she rounded a corner and had to bring herself to a quick stop to avoid bumping into someone.
"Oh, excuse me-" the man started, before blinking in recognition. "Ah, Yatagarasu."
Homura glanced up at the man, having to crane her neck to look him in the eye. He was tall and thin, a foot-and-a-half taller than her at least, with dark skin and close-cropped hair. "Don't worry about it."
The man nodded, adjusting his tie. He made a show of looking to the side, as if considering something, before looking back to her. "Actually, running into you like this is rather fortuitous. Do you have a moment?"
"...I suppose," Homura replied, unsure just what business the man had with her. PRT business, presumably, but what? Behind her visor, her eyes moved to inspect the ID card hanging from the lanyard around the man's neck. Parahuman Affairs Consultant-
"-Thomas Calvert," the man introduced, extending a bony hand. She accepted it, noting that he had a strong grip. He shook her hand like a businessman closing a deal with a peer, rather than an adult greeting a minor. Transformed as she was, it was trivial for her to match it, something that didn't seem to bother the man.
"Yatagarasu," she replied, evenly. "Though you already knew that."
Thomas nodded again, letting go of her hand. "I suppose I'll cut right to the chase. You are aware that the PRT has been assembling a list of suitable guardians for you, yes?"
So that's what this is about. "I am. I have a scheduled meeting about that today, in fact."
"Ah, good," Thomas smiled. "Then I suppose I can inform you now that I've put myself forward as one of those potential guardians."
Homura blinked, taken aback by that. "I...see. May I ask why?"
"Primarily because I feel that I am actually qualified for the role, unlike the candidates being put forward by the Department of Social Services," Thomas replied, with a thin, humorless smile. "For one, I already possess most of the necessary security clearance. And beyond that, well...I've read your file. The redacted version, of course, but still. You're a refugee, correct? From Japan."
Homura inclined her head, wondering where the man was going with this.
"I won't pry for details, but I imagine you've been through hardships that a girl your age should never have to endure," Thomas said, and she noted that his voice was level, and devoid of pity. As if he was simply stating a fact. "There are people, well-intentioned people, who believe that simply placing you with an adoptive family is enough to put you on the road to recovery, to becoming 'normal' again. I happen to know better."
Homura frowned, both at the thought of having to deal with actual adoptive parents on top of schoolwork and the PRT, and at the man's tone. There was something very grim about it, especially near the end. "What do you mean?"
"Sometimes we go through things that fundamentally change who we are," Thomas said. "A change that cannot be undone or 'fixed', despite what others may wish."
The image of a timid girl with red glasses and twin braids entered Homura's mind, and her frown deepened.
"Have you heard of Ellisburg?" Thomas asked, his voice suddenly very quiet.
"...It was taken over by a villain. A biological Tinker or Master or something like that. It came up in an old news article when I looked up Director Piggot's name, from back when she first took the position. She was one of only two survivors from the PRT strike teams that responded to the incident," Homura remembered aloud. A moment later, her eyes narrowed in realization. "You were the other survivor."
"Correct," Thomas confirmed, flatly. "I do not know what it was you went through in Japan, Yatagarasu, but I recognize something in you. Something that I have seen in Emily-in Director Piggot, and in myself. I don't intend to force you to treat me like a father, nor do I wish for you to pretend to be something you're not. I put myself forward as a potential guardian for you to spare you the indignity of being treated as a broken child in need of 'fixing', and to ensure you have a guardian capable of actually supporting you, particularly in matters involving the PRT."
He tapped his ID card to emphasize the final point, and something about the situation finally clicked in Homura's head. Of course. Armsmaster had been visibly annoyed by the guardian issue holding things up in regards to testing her Soul Gem, which meant the PRT also likely had its complaints. And then along comes the Director's old comrade, offering her a solution that was convenient to everyone, but especially to the PRT. It was extremely clever, if a little underhanded.
Still, it served her aims, so there wasn't much reason to say no. It wasn't like letting the PRT effectively have legal control of her prevented her from stopping time and walking out the front door whenever she wanted.
"I will keep that in mind," she said, calmly.
"That's all I ask. And I apologize for dragging the conversation to such a dark place, but I felt you deserved honesty," he said, before checking his watch. "Now, I'll allow you to return to your business. Good day, Yatagarasu."
She inclined her head a final time. "...Good day, Calvert."
-
"She picked him?" Emily exclaimed incredulously, making her Deputy Director flinch.
-
Colin Wallis gave the data on his computer screen a final check, before giving a satisfied nod. Analysis showed that the compound had synthesized properly, and all of his simulations had come back with positive results. He had even sent along a request for Dragon to run a simulation on her own hardware, just to ensure his own system wasn't missing something, and had gotten back an identical result. Barring any surprises from live testing-something he viewed as highly unlikely-it seemed safe to call his tranquilizer complete. He allowed himself a moment to sit back in satisfaction at another project brought to fruition.
Then the moment was over, and he sat back up, considering his project list. The prediction software still needed a considerable amount of work, but Dragon was currently preoccupied with Guild business, and he needed access to her own monitoring programs to start making macro-scale improvements. He was still waiting on a shipment of materials for the nanothorn project, so that wasn't an option. That left him with either further training his lie detecting algorithms, which wasn't a priority, starting a new project from his list of ideas, or...
Yatagarasu.
The new Ward that had Gallant and Miss Militia so concerned. The matter of her guardianship was well on its way to being resolved, which meant he would finally get to examine the girl's anomalous object. He was rather curious about it, and what connection that it had to her powers. And curiosity aside, it would be good to confirm that the ring wasn't having a negative effect on her.
Decision made, the armored man took a look around his workshop, tallying the various scanning implements he already had at his disposal. He began sorting them into categories based on their likely utility, while at the same time going over what little he knew about the ring. Considering that it appeared to be the origin point for the flash of light that accompanied the creation of Yatagarasu's battle clothing, he suspected there was some sort of energy generation or manipulation at work. In addition, while he had no evidence to prove it just yet, he theorized that whatever the ring was, it had some sort of connection to the strange results Gallant's power had produced. It was the most likely possibility, unless Yatagarasu possessed some other power that she was unaware of or intentionally hiding, but speculation on that front could very easily spiral into baseless guesswork. It was better to investigate the known factor first.
Moving with practiced ease through the machinery and workbenches filling the room, he started moving what was portable closer to what wasn't. Already, he could feel his mind shifting into problem-solving mode, honing in on the matter at hand and breaking it down into smaller parts. A broad-spectrum scan to catalogue any energy the anomalous object was giving off would be a good place to start, followed by further analysis with his newest molecular scanner. Ideally he would pair that with examination and destructive testing of a surface sample as well, just to be certain of the ring's material composition and toughness, but she was firmly against anything that would result in so much as a scratch on it, and his hands were increasingly tied in regards to the girl.
Really, getting to the bottom of this would be much easier if he was allowed to question Yatagarasu more directly about the ring, but Gallant coming forward with his concerns had put any chance of that happening to rest. The girl had stated outright that she had gotten the ring with her powers, a statement that his prototype lie detector had indicated was truthful, meaning it was tied to her trigger event. And now that she'd been marked as potentially unstable, Miss Militia's suggestion to avoid prying into the events surrounding her point-zero had become official policy. That was a job for the PRT's therapists, apparently.
As Colin sat the handheld version of his molecular scanner beside its larger cousin, he noticed a stack of paperwork, and was snapped out of his thoughts. His eyes scanned the top page, and he grimaced.
Right. Requisition forms, he remembered. He had been busy making the final tweaks to the tranquilizer compound when they were delivered, and had pushed them off to the side for later. Flipping through them, it appeared that Yatagarasu-or more likely, Consultant Calvert acting on behalf of Yatagarasu-had dug up the old forms for a non-Tinker Ward to request an addition to their costume or equipment.
Frankly, he'd forgotten this variant of the requisition form even existed.
It also appeared that Yatagarasu had filled out forms requesting access to, effectively, the entire arsenal of a PRT strike team, stopping just short of asking for an actual firearm. The girl didn't strike him as naive enough to believe that she'd get even half of what she was asking for, so Colin surmised that she was throwing out as many requests as possible in the hopes that at least a few would make it through.
Unceremoniously, he dumped the entire pile of forms with the rest of his outgoing mail. Piggot could deal with this. He didn't have the time to go through them all and argue with Public Relations about what was and wasn't appropriate for a Ward to carry.
Returning to the matter of Yatagarasu's ring, Colin took a moment to examine the sensor equipment he'd gathered, and frowned as he realized that some of the technology involved was out of date. Not up to his latest standards. The broad-spectrum scanner was the worst example; once he had moved on to molecular assembly and subatomic energy manipulation, he hadn't had much need for low resolution, "wide net" analysis. But considering he could be working with a form of anomalous energy, or an anomalous method of harnessing energy, it couldn't hurt to ensure his bases were all covered.
As he set to the task of disassembling the scanner, he could already see dozens of improvements waiting to be made. From better materials, to alterations to the design, there were so many ways he could improve its efficiency, and leverage those improvements into massive increases to the device's overall effectiveness.
And so, lost in his Tinkering, Colin let the hours pass him by.
-
The girl trudged down the stairs into the basement, her mood dark. Another predictably shitty day down the drain. At least now she could work on something that actually mattered, unlike her terrible school life. As she flicked on the lights and made her way over to the coal chute, unscrewing the wooden panel covering the lower section of it, she was mostly able to put her negative thoughts out of her mind, at least for the time being.
Because she, Taylor Hebert, was going to be a superhero.
-
this is fine
She struggled to lift herself up, to get back into the fight. She told herself that it wasn't over, that as long as Madoka was still alive, she still had a reason to carry on. Her hand groped for her shield, intending to withdraw one of her remaining Grief Seeds, only to freeze as she caught a glimpse of her foe.
Walpurgisnacht was completely unharmed. She had hit it with enough firepower to level a quarter of the city, and it hadn't even made a scratch. The realization sapped the strength from her limbs, and she fell back, her violet eyes dimming.
I can't kill it, she thought, numbly. I never could.
But why? Madoka had killed it before, in previous loops, albeit at the cost of her own life. So why couldn't she? Why was she so weak?
All she wanted to do was repay Madoka's kindness. To protect her, to save her from her fate. That was all! So why, after so long, after so many tries, why couldn't she do anything? She shuddered, tears welling up in her eyes. Everyone was dead. Everyone but her and Madoka. She hadn't changed anything. No, she had, she'd made things worse. Her attempts to save Madoka had doomed the girl's best friend as well, not to mention Kyoko Sakura.
She stared up at the sky, feeling a familiar sense of despair creeping over her. Once before, many loops ago, she had almost given in to it, only for Madoka to save her yet again. Now, though, she was alone. Alone and unable to muster even the slightest bit of resistance to the darkness engulfing her mind.
Then, footsteps. She heard the crunch of pulverized gravel and concrete, slowly approaching her crumpled form, and her heart stopped.
No. Not her. Don't make me watch it again, please!
A soft voice, thick with concern, reached her ears.
"Homura-chan?"
"Madoka!" Homura Akemi gasped, her eyes snapping open, heart hammering in her chest. Her body was drenched in sweat, and as she realized that the ceiling above her wasn't that of her apartment, a defeated feeling shot through her. A moment later, it struck her that the ceiling wasn't that of her hospital room, either.
Then her brain finally caught up with her, and she remembered where she was. The "Parahuman Response Team" building in downtown Brockton Bay, in the United States of America.
Earth Bet.
With a shallow sigh, Homura closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down. It wasn't a new experience for her; nightmares had become a common enough occurrence for her. This dream in particular, though, was relatively new. She'd had it several times since arriving on what was apparently a parallel Earth. An Earth seemingly devoid of Magical Girls, Witches, and the Incubator, but instead populated by "parahumans", people with unique and varied superpowers.
Sometimes, the dream was shorter. Sometimes, Madoka never showed up, and she succumbed to her despair. In other cases, it continued on for longer. Madoka made her wish, destroyed Walpurgisnacht, and went on to become...something else. The Incubator had wondered aloud if she was trying to become a god.
Those dreams were worse. It had only been a few weeks since then, and still, she could remember it vividly. Madoka's warmth, the kindness on her face. The terrified realization that the one who mattered most to her was about to go somewhere she couldn't follow. Pleading, begging, don't go, take me with you. She remembered it all, the memories accompanied by a phantom pain that could barely be called "phantom"; a stabbing sensation in her heart. The worst part, though, was what had happened immediately after that.
Something must have gone wrong. She saw it; the moment Madoka's smiling face shifted to one of surprise, then alarm. And then a sense of violent vertigo, the sensation of being thrown and dragged in multiple directions simultaneously-
And then nothing. Nothing, until she woke feeling the cold sting of the Atlantic ocean.
Madoka was gone. The time loop that she had been trapped in for so long was broken. If she knew that wherever Madoka had gone, she was safe, then maybe...maybe she could have accepted it. She could have finally let things end. But whatever it was that Madoka had been trying to do with her wish, it hadn't gone as planned. Madoka could be in danger, or worse-
Homura shook her head, sitting up in her bed. She couldn't let things end like this. She would find her way back to her own Earth, and figure out what had happened to her. Even if she had to wring that little white rat's neck for answers.
...Not that she was in any position to do that, at the moment.
Sighing, she checked the time. The alarm clock in her assigned quarters read that it was just after seven in the morning. Earlier than she would have liked, but late enough that it wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep. So, she got out of bed and started on what had come to be her morning routine since she took up residence in the PRT-ENE headquarters. A shower, most of which was spent on maintaining her hair, followed by changing into one of the plain, almost universally black and/or white sets of clothing the PRT had provided her. So far she had mainly stuck to the skirts out of familiarity, but her growing annoyance at having to hide her shield's storage capabilities was making her reconsider solely for access to pockets. She would have to get a bag or purse of some kind soon if she intended to continue this Ward charade for any real length of time.
Speaking of, right, today was the day she was supposed to talk with the PRT about potential guardians for her. I can't wait, she thought sarcastically, emerging from her private quarters and into the central area of the Wards' headquarters within the bowels of the PRT building. Glancing at the monitors running along one side of the room, she frowned at the sight of the screen reserved for tour schedules, of all things.
What kind of law enforcement agency ran tours of its headquarters? Initially, she had thought that "Miss Militia" had just given her an in-depth tour due to her being a potential recruit. But no, to her surprise, that had been the official tour route, open to the public. The official tour route that included the armory.
She'd been spared having to meet any of the tour-goers so far on account of not yet having been "introduced". As she began to search for where she'd left that stupid visor she'd been given, she pondered the fact that she was likely going to have to actually participate in things like that, going forward.
Not for the first time, she wondered if what she was doing was a good idea. But then, what other option did she have? She had three Grief Seeds left after her most recent (and perhaps last) battle with Walpurgisnacht, and as far as she could tell, no way to get more. If anyone could help her overcome the obstacles in her way, it would likely be the PRT. They could call upon an entire roster of so-called "heroes", not to mention the funding and resources of the United States government. And beyond that, even if some independent hero or villain could resolve the expiration date on her soul, there was one thing she needed even more, something that only the PRT could provide-
There it is.
Retrieving the visor, she once again reminded herself that there was no reason not to at least try and keep up appearances for a bit longer. To accomplish her main goal, she would need to make use of her time stop and start snooping around, something she was loathe to do until she had at least tried to resolve her Grief Seed issue. Which wrapped back around to her annoyance with the PRT, and its seeming inability to prioritize. Her new "boss", Armsmaster, was supposed to be one of the Protectorate's top Tinkers. He stood at least some chance of being able to analyze her Soul Gem. And yet, the PRT was more concerned with getting her transferred into school and put with a legal guardian and other things that fundamentally did not matter.
As she fastened the visor to her face, she mused that at least several of her new coworkers appeared to share her opinion. Armsmaster himself had seemed slightly annoyed when he explained that even with her consent, without a legal guardian's permission the PRT could not involve her in laboratory testing until the Youth Guard had a chance to review the paperwork and sign off on it. And when she had commented on the bureaucracy surrounding her situation to her fellow Wards, she had received sympathy from Vista, as well as a derogatory comment about "pencil pushers" from Shadow Stalker, who to Homura seemed to be much like Kyoko Sakura, if someone sawed off all the likeable parts of her personality.
Once her visor was firmly in place, she transformed into her Magical Girl outfit, once again marveling at how strange the "cape" phenomenon of Earth Bet was. It was like something out of a comic book. But then, the Incubator's system bore a certain similarity to anime and manga, probably by design.
Putting that thought aside, she made her way out of the room and down the corridor to the elevator. She had at least an hour or so to kill, so she might as well get breakfast. Getting in the elevator, she pressed the button for the floor containing the building's cafeteria. Smoothly and quietly, the Tinkertech elevator reserved for the Wards began to rise, and within moments deposited her at her destination.
At such an early hour, the PRT building was hardly a hive of activity. It wasn't completely empty, though, and Homura found herself exchanging nods and greetings with an office worker and a pair of uniformed officers as she passed them in the halls. The PRT rank-and-file had become oddly chatty to her as of late, ever since she had been introduced to her fellow Wards. It almost felt like the building's staff had been ordered to be nice to her, as ridiculous as that sounded. Maybe it was an American thing.
She was almost to the cafeteria when she rounded a corner and had to bring herself to a quick stop to avoid bumping into someone.
"Oh, excuse me-" the man started, before blinking in recognition. "Ah, Yatagarasu."
Homura glanced up at the man, having to crane her neck to look him in the eye. He was tall and thin, a foot-and-a-half taller than her at least, with dark skin and close-cropped hair. "Don't worry about it."
The man nodded, adjusting his tie. He made a show of looking to the side, as if considering something, before looking back to her. "Actually, running into you like this is rather fortuitous. Do you have a moment?"
"...I suppose," Homura replied, unsure just what business the man had with her. PRT business, presumably, but what? Behind her visor, her eyes moved to inspect the ID card hanging from the lanyard around the man's neck. Parahuman Affairs Consultant-
"-Thomas Calvert," the man introduced, extending a bony hand. She accepted it, noting that he had a strong grip. He shook her hand like a businessman closing a deal with a peer, rather than an adult greeting a minor. Transformed as she was, it was trivial for her to match it, something that didn't seem to bother the man.
"Yatagarasu," she replied, evenly. "Though you already knew that."
Thomas nodded again, letting go of her hand. "I suppose I'll cut right to the chase. You are aware that the PRT has been assembling a list of suitable guardians for you, yes?"
So that's what this is about. "I am. I have a scheduled meeting about that today, in fact."
"Ah, good," Thomas smiled. "Then I suppose I can inform you now that I've put myself forward as one of those potential guardians."
Homura blinked, taken aback by that. "I...see. May I ask why?"
"Primarily because I feel that I am actually qualified for the role, unlike the candidates being put forward by the Department of Social Services," Thomas replied, with a thin, humorless smile. "For one, I already possess most of the necessary security clearance. And beyond that, well...I've read your file. The redacted version, of course, but still. You're a refugee, correct? From Japan."
Homura inclined her head, wondering where the man was going with this.
"I won't pry for details, but I imagine you've been through hardships that a girl your age should never have to endure," Thomas said, and she noted that his voice was level, and devoid of pity. As if he was simply stating a fact. "There are people, well-intentioned people, who believe that simply placing you with an adoptive family is enough to put you on the road to recovery, to becoming 'normal' again. I happen to know better."
Homura frowned, both at the thought of having to deal with actual adoptive parents on top of schoolwork and the PRT, and at the man's tone. There was something very grim about it, especially near the end. "What do you mean?"
"Sometimes we go through things that fundamentally change who we are," Thomas said. "A change that cannot be undone or 'fixed', despite what others may wish."
The image of a timid girl with red glasses and twin braids entered Homura's mind, and her frown deepened.
"Have you heard of Ellisburg?" Thomas asked, his voice suddenly very quiet.
"...It was taken over by a villain. A biological Tinker or Master or something like that. It came up in an old news article when I looked up Director Piggot's name, from back when she first took the position. She was one of only two survivors from the PRT strike teams that responded to the incident," Homura remembered aloud. A moment later, her eyes narrowed in realization. "You were the other survivor."
"Correct," Thomas confirmed, flatly. "I do not know what it was you went through in Japan, Yatagarasu, but I recognize something in you. Something that I have seen in Emily-in Director Piggot, and in myself. I don't intend to force you to treat me like a father, nor do I wish for you to pretend to be something you're not. I put myself forward as a potential guardian for you to spare you the indignity of being treated as a broken child in need of 'fixing', and to ensure you have a guardian capable of actually supporting you, particularly in matters involving the PRT."
He tapped his ID card to emphasize the final point, and something about the situation finally clicked in Homura's head. Of course. Armsmaster had been visibly annoyed by the guardian issue holding things up in regards to testing her Soul Gem, which meant the PRT also likely had its complaints. And then along comes the Director's old comrade, offering her a solution that was convenient to everyone, but especially to the PRT. It was extremely clever, if a little underhanded.
Still, it served her aims, so there wasn't much reason to say no. It wasn't like letting the PRT effectively have legal control of her prevented her from stopping time and walking out the front door whenever she wanted.
"I will keep that in mind," she said, calmly.
"That's all I ask. And I apologize for dragging the conversation to such a dark place, but I felt you deserved honesty," he said, before checking his watch. "Now, I'll allow you to return to your business. Good day, Yatagarasu."
She inclined her head a final time. "...Good day, Calvert."
-
"She picked him?" Emily exclaimed incredulously, making her Deputy Director flinch.
-
Colin Wallis gave the data on his computer screen a final check, before giving a satisfied nod. Analysis showed that the compound had synthesized properly, and all of his simulations had come back with positive results. He had even sent along a request for Dragon to run a simulation on her own hardware, just to ensure his own system wasn't missing something, and had gotten back an identical result. Barring any surprises from live testing-something he viewed as highly unlikely-it seemed safe to call his tranquilizer complete. He allowed himself a moment to sit back in satisfaction at another project brought to fruition.
Then the moment was over, and he sat back up, considering his project list. The prediction software still needed a considerable amount of work, but Dragon was currently preoccupied with Guild business, and he needed access to her own monitoring programs to start making macro-scale improvements. He was still waiting on a shipment of materials for the nanothorn project, so that wasn't an option. That left him with either further training his lie detecting algorithms, which wasn't a priority, starting a new project from his list of ideas, or...
Yatagarasu.
The new Ward that had Gallant and Miss Militia so concerned. The matter of her guardianship was well on its way to being resolved, which meant he would finally get to examine the girl's anomalous object. He was rather curious about it, and what connection that it had to her powers. And curiosity aside, it would be good to confirm that the ring wasn't having a negative effect on her.
Decision made, the armored man took a look around his workshop, tallying the various scanning implements he already had at his disposal. He began sorting them into categories based on their likely utility, while at the same time going over what little he knew about the ring. Considering that it appeared to be the origin point for the flash of light that accompanied the creation of Yatagarasu's battle clothing, he suspected there was some sort of energy generation or manipulation at work. In addition, while he had no evidence to prove it just yet, he theorized that whatever the ring was, it had some sort of connection to the strange results Gallant's power had produced. It was the most likely possibility, unless Yatagarasu possessed some other power that she was unaware of or intentionally hiding, but speculation on that front could very easily spiral into baseless guesswork. It was better to investigate the known factor first.
Moving with practiced ease through the machinery and workbenches filling the room, he started moving what was portable closer to what wasn't. Already, he could feel his mind shifting into problem-solving mode, honing in on the matter at hand and breaking it down into smaller parts. A broad-spectrum scan to catalogue any energy the anomalous object was giving off would be a good place to start, followed by further analysis with his newest molecular scanner. Ideally he would pair that with examination and destructive testing of a surface sample as well, just to be certain of the ring's material composition and toughness, but she was firmly against anything that would result in so much as a scratch on it, and his hands were increasingly tied in regards to the girl.
Really, getting to the bottom of this would be much easier if he was allowed to question Yatagarasu more directly about the ring, but Gallant coming forward with his concerns had put any chance of that happening to rest. The girl had stated outright that she had gotten the ring with her powers, a statement that his prototype lie detector had indicated was truthful, meaning it was tied to her trigger event. And now that she'd been marked as potentially unstable, Miss Militia's suggestion to avoid prying into the events surrounding her point-zero had become official policy. That was a job for the PRT's therapists, apparently.
As Colin sat the handheld version of his molecular scanner beside its larger cousin, he noticed a stack of paperwork, and was snapped out of his thoughts. His eyes scanned the top page, and he grimaced.
Right. Requisition forms, he remembered. He had been busy making the final tweaks to the tranquilizer compound when they were delivered, and had pushed them off to the side for later. Flipping through them, it appeared that Yatagarasu-or more likely, Consultant Calvert acting on behalf of Yatagarasu-had dug up the old forms for a non-Tinker Ward to request an addition to their costume or equipment.
Frankly, he'd forgotten this variant of the requisition form even existed.
It also appeared that Yatagarasu had filled out forms requesting access to, effectively, the entire arsenal of a PRT strike team, stopping just short of asking for an actual firearm. The girl didn't strike him as naive enough to believe that she'd get even half of what she was asking for, so Colin surmised that she was throwing out as many requests as possible in the hopes that at least a few would make it through.
Unceremoniously, he dumped the entire pile of forms with the rest of his outgoing mail. Piggot could deal with this. He didn't have the time to go through them all and argue with Public Relations about what was and wasn't appropriate for a Ward to carry.
Returning to the matter of Yatagarasu's ring, Colin took a moment to examine the sensor equipment he'd gathered, and frowned as he realized that some of the technology involved was out of date. Not up to his latest standards. The broad-spectrum scanner was the worst example; once he had moved on to molecular assembly and subatomic energy manipulation, he hadn't had much need for low resolution, "wide net" analysis. But considering he could be working with a form of anomalous energy, or an anomalous method of harnessing energy, it couldn't hurt to ensure his bases were all covered.
As he set to the task of disassembling the scanner, he could already see dozens of improvements waiting to be made. From better materials, to alterations to the design, there were so many ways he could improve its efficiency, and leverage those improvements into massive increases to the device's overall effectiveness.
And so, lost in his Tinkering, Colin let the hours pass him by.
-
The girl trudged down the stairs into the basement, her mood dark. Another predictably shitty day down the drain. At least now she could work on something that actually mattered, unlike her terrible school life. As she flicked on the lights and made her way over to the coal chute, unscrewing the wooden panel covering the lower section of it, she was mostly able to put her negative thoughts out of her mind, at least for the time being.
Because she, Taylor Hebert, was going to be a superhero.
-
this is fine
