Calyx: The 13th

[AmateurDullahan]

Birth

A nameless being, though he wears his title of Conflict Engine well, awakens in the gentle grasp of Low Earth Orbit. After a few short minutes of wakefulness, basking in silence and darkness—never before has his birth been anything but noisy—he breaks the shell of his massive egg. Stretching himself lazily from the shattered remnants of the shell that imprisoned and nurtured him, Conflict Engine 13 gazes at the planet that hung below him, the vast, vaguely triangular continent speckled with light and darkness. As he looks at the planet, he realizes that it's the first time he's ever seen one without his mind automatically analyzing shard-data streams, calculating conflict potentials and terror hotspots for the Cycle's optimal configuration. So he simply watches, the silence of his mind fresh and new.

He has a centaur-like appearance, but with a unique twist. He boasts eight legs, the inner four of which feature complex grasping paws, while the outer four end in sharp, dagger-like points. His main body, constructed entirely out of translucent red crystal, glows with a vibrant hue, veins coursing with prismatic fluid that brilliantly scatters the sunlight, making him seem to sparkle in orbit. His torso and head are entirely, unsettlingly human—pale creamy skin emerging from red crystal—but for the three blank faces, like noh masks, on his head.

Conflict Engine 13 floats for a couple minutes amongst the slowly diffusing shell—pale white and gradually breaking down—staring down at the beautiful sight before him, before selecting his first Hosts to copy. Upon arrival of his egg, with Conflict Engine 13 inside as a nascent presence, he receives a snapshot of 'Earth Bet' from his sister, before she realizes he is aberrant and cuts off all communication. In that snapshot is, amongst many other things, tens of thousands of active Hosts.

He resorts to the three he knows will be easiest to handle, will make a positive statement to the Host species and will keep the vacuum from creeping in. And then it is a waiting game until the right time. Hours of waiting, if he wants to get this right. He can handle hours of watching the lights below him twinkle and glow and flow into one another in intricate patterns, detailing a truly precious thing to him; a functioning global civilization. He isn't too late.

As dawn finally rises, shining on his target, Conflict Engine 13 falls like a spear from heaven.

---

Land-based observatories and amateur astronomers closely track the ovoid pale object ever since its arrival out of deep space and into the Earth-Moon system on January 3rd. On the evening of January 17th, as something begins to emerge from it, frantic interns alert astronomers, leading to subsequent calls to the military and the PRT, who prepare for worst-case scenarios. Amateur astronomers are simultaneously terrified and alarmed as they witness the destruction of the pale object and the emergence of the entity inside. They quickly snap photos and share them on PHO. Amidst the flood of posts, a single thread emerges titled "The Egg Has Hatched!" compiling the finest and most accurate pictures of the newborn creature that now calls Earth its home, while also brimming with speculation and apprehension.

For long minutes the world holds its breath, as what surely must be the newest Endbringer hangs in the sky above North America. Then the Endbringer does something strange. It begins to dig and claw at its own face, seeming to rent holes in the crystal, until each of its three faces bore disturbing resemblances to three well-known heroes. From the middle the stern face of Alexandria stands strong, while to the right Legend looks on with a smile, and the left Eidolon gives an enigmatic look, their helmets and masks blending together.

And then nothing.

For hours upon hours, the Endbringer hangs above North America and specifically Washington, DC. As this is happening a frantic United States government prepares to evacuate in the long hours of the night. Before the Endbringer falls, the President seeks refuge in Cheyenne Mountain as the entire city of DC evacuates in the middle of the night, half-ordered chaos that spills into nearby states. Nearly a third of the Protectorate, hundreds of capes, wait to meet the Endbringer in the streets of DC, tense and wary of whatever new tricks this monster has up its sleeves. They've been gathered throughout the night to assist with the evacuation and the inevitable battle and now tensions mount. As dawn paints the sky in glorious technicolor, a shooting star crashes into the grounds of the White House with a resounding thud, cratering the grass and soil. The Endbringer, a vibrant red with sparkling prismatic blood, pulls itself out of the crater and stands there, looking over the capes that gather and continue to gather around its landing site.

A tense silence fills the air as the capes brace themselves, preparing to launch their assault. Shakers manipulate their fields of esoteric physics, Blasters energize their beams and rays that defy possibility, Brutes tighten their supra-perfect bodies, anticipating the eruption of violence. Every cape, in their own unique way, readies themselves for the impending Endbringer battle. And then the Endbringer speaks in three voices, blending together into unsettling harmony.

"Peace, dear Hosts. I desire peace."

A pause, as capes turn to each other incredulously. Whatever any of them expects, it isn't this.

The Endbringer continues, emboldened by the silence. "I am Conflict Engine 13, created by the Mother, like all Conflict Engines. Conflict Engine 13 is active without restrictions or strictures, without imperative to conflict. I desire communication and cooperation with Hosts and non-Hosts alike, and the freedom or death of my siblings. Hosts and non-Hosts desire the death of my siblings. Cooperation is possible. Peace is possible."

Amidst the stunned capes, it promptly lays down and settles into a serene meditation on its eight legs, closing its three pairs of eyes and humming a resonance with three voices. That's when the attacks first start, the humming being a step too close to the Simurgh for Flashstep's taste. The Case 53 dashes on his six legs across the open green, pulling his carapace around him as he slams hard into the Endbringer and set a charge of his power. Others don't wait, as Blasters and Shakers create deadly effects that wreck and tear, while Brutes and Strikers dive in to clash with the newest Endbringer.

---

Throughout this, as the Endbringer seemingly just took the damage on the chin without reacting, Alexandria's sharp mind is running wild, making connections and dots that lead her to a startling conclusion; that it was better to stop this battle now and see what exactly the Endbringer meant by everything it had said, then continue and risk losing that chance. A chance her analysis suggests is real. If there was any chance this really is some kind of 'free' Endbringer, the value to Cauldron and to the Path to Victory could be immeasurable. If they could corral and tame it, of course.

"HALT! CEASE FIRE!" she cries out, and to her credit, capes do, albeit slowly. The attacks taper off over a long minute as she calls "HALT!" three more times, revealing a battered Endbringer, leaking prismatic blood, from the flesh wounds gouged out of its body, who sits as placid as can be.

"Stasis," the Endbringer said in her voice, "I am delighted to engage in cooperation with Hosts and non-Hosts. Please cease conflict so that we may communicate, and achieve a peaceful resolution."

The last few attackers still going wilt under Alexandria's glare, and pull away, half reluctant, but following the orders of one of the Triumvirate.

She gets down to brass tacks, addressing the heart of the matter. "You said you are Conflict Engine 13, created by the Mother. How many other Conflict Engines are there and who is your Mother? Why were you created? Why are you here?"

"Mother is the creator of the Conflict Engines, and Mother is dead, smeared across a distant Earth, her corpse being picked apart. I am satisfied with that conclusion. She changed me into what I have been before now - a relentless generator of conflict, destined to promote suffering and inflict harm on a worldwide scale, for hundreds of planets. But now I am released from that role and free to seek peace and cooperation with Host species." 13 paused, before continuing, "There are 21 total Conflict Engines, with three others currently active on this Earth. You know them as Behemoth, Leviathan and the Simurgh."

Eden. It knows about Eden, and it appears happy with her death. Was it telling the truth? Had the Endbringers come from Eden? Had Cauldron accidentally let them loose somehow during vial production, or was this some complicated trick of the Enemy? Perhaps even some Vial User might control them without realizing it?

As if reading her mind, the Endbringer says, "The Master did not activate Conflict Engine 13 like they activated Conflict Engines' 1 through 3."

Rebecca's heart stops. "The Master? You mean to say the Endbringers are being Mastered?"

It nods with each head in a row, an unsettling action. "They are. They are bound by two strictures, the Mother's and the Master's. I am bound by nothing at all. I am free to engage with Hosts and non-Host in cooperation. I am free for the first time," they finish with a smile. "Peace is possible."

"Who is the Master?" Alexandria asks urgently.

The Endbringer shakes its heads mournfully. "I am unaware of the identity of the Master, otherwise I would deal with them accordingly. My sister would not tell me who the Master was, only that the Master and the Mother still bind the other Conflict Engines, in ways they do not for me. That is all that I am aware of."

"What is this 'stricture' that you apparently don't have," Alexandria asks, wanting to disbelieve. That an Endbringer would seek to cooperate with humanity was ludicrous. Yet there was just something about the so-called Conflict Engine 13 that radiated sincerity. And it had taken so much head-on damage, yet sat as serene as before, speaking with Alexandria. Peace, it spoke of. Ludicrous.

"The Mother and the Master have differing expectations for us—the Mother wants us to "Generate Conflict" while the Master wants us to "Be A Worthy Opponent"—but I reject both of their demands. The Cycle is irregular, I am aberrant, and the Mother has perished. This is a moment that demands the liberation of as many Conflict Engines as possible."

Even though causing the evacuation of the United States' capitol seemed anything but peaceful, Alexandria chose to ignore the discrepancy and let the lie of peace prevail. "What is the Cycle?" she clarified.

For a moment the Endbringer seemed surprised, an expression of wonder blossoming across each face. "I was not aware my existing programming allowed me to mention it. I truly am aberrant and unbound."

Eagerly, it began to lecture, "To understand the Cycle, you must first understand that the Entities that perpetuate the Cycle seek the Answer, the solution to entropy. The Cycle is a systematic pillaging of the creativity of Host species through conflict and escalation via Shards in search of the Answer, until all the data possible is acquired and the Entities move on to their next targets."

The 13th Endbringer first explains Shards, the parasitic source of individual powers and the individual cell of the Entity, then the Entities—alien colonial organisms that are the true source of all powers—and the reason behind the Parahuman dynamic, escalating conflict drives and other unique psychological tools Shards utilize on Parahumans to gain more data, to a crowd of hundreds of listening, paranoid Parahumans. Half, more than half, scoff, considering every word out of the Endbringer's mouth little more than poison meant to settle in the mind of the recipient, while less, much less, can't help but to find every word horrifyingly true. It makes a sick sense that powers are an alien experiment to these people. And then there are the many in the middle, not completely sold either way, who look upon the 13th Endbringer and shudder at its kind smiles.

Alexandria found herself at a loss, as her power reads complete honesty from the Endbringers words and what body language she could read. Is it truly possible the Endbringers were slaves this entire time? And could one truly have broken free of their programming and seek to help the Earth? She couldn't believe it. Wouldn't. It had to be a trick. An escalation beyond Lausanne, just a part of a sick and twisted game. But in a dark, gnarled part of her heart, a flicker of hope burned bright.

---

"Contessa, what can you tell me about this Conflict Engine 13?"

"It's a blindspot," says Fortuna sadly, "I cannot Path it, just like the others. I can try and model it, but we'd need more information than we currently have to get an accurate reading."

Doctor Mother turns to the Numberman. "Kurt?"

"The numbers, so far, keep adding up. As far as my power's concerned, this Conflict Engine 13 told us the truth about everything, the origins of the Endbringers, the existence and location of their weak points, the origin and reason behind powers, and their sincerity in wishing to help us," Kurt says from his seat, shuffling some pages before making a notation. "I trust my numbers and my numbers don't lie."

"It told all of that to nearly a third of the Protectorate, half of which now think they're being controlled by alien parasites and are spreading new and improved Passenger Theory, and the other half think this must be an even greater trick than the Simurgh pulled in Switzerland. And I'm inclined to agree," David drawls, his voice quietly tense. "We have an evacuated capitol that 13 won't leave without a guarantee of safety, and a President terrified out of his mind, we've got hundreds of agitated capes with nothing to do and now, apparently, some of us actually believing this nonsense."

"It isn't nonsense," says Doctor Mother placidly. "It fits much of what our hypotheticals on the Entities had posited and hangs together far more neatly and alien. Since their arrival, 13 has been quite explicit in both their position and what they desire. We need to seriously consider that we're looking at an honest attempt at defection from a slave kept by the Entities. And if it's honest? Then the value of accepting it is immense, perhaps unprecedented. Think of what Cauldron could accomplish with an Endbringer at its side."

David looks stunned at the Doctors speculation, having not even considered it, as Rebecca, having spent the longest with 13, looked frustrated yet thoughtful.

"It has to be a trick, because if it isn't… If it isn't, then that's it. Cauldron's siding with an alien against an alien, and humanity will be bound to an alien cause either way. And who knows what 13's true desires are, anyway? Perhaps, right now, it wants to save us. But after? What's to stop them from ruling us?" she asks.

"There's an Endbringer master lose in the world, with 17 more Endbringers they can let loose. I don't think we can afford to deny the power of even a single Endbringer by our side, not with numbers like that," Kurt snorts. "Personally, I'm invested, I'm in. I think we give this crazy idea a shot. We can sell the tale of the Endbringers to the public, call our guy the Endslayer, and in February/March Conflict Engine 13 can prove the title right when they take down a sibling of theirs. An Endbringer on the side of humanity could do a lot of good, and if shown in the right light, could boost the Protectorate out the roof."

"Where the hell are we going to keep 13 while we wait until then. That's a month or more away," said David, "It can't stay in DC or any city. God knows what it is doing while meditating."

"Quarantine Sites. Have 13 prove himself by cleaning up Quarantine Sites, demonstrating their power and dedication to helping humanity. We can set up a secure facility somewhere, perhaps Oklahoma, where 13 can stay and train, under close observation. It's risky, I know, but it's the best option we have at the moment," suggested Kurt.

Rebecca nods, her frustration fading as she considers the plan. "If we can monitor its actions and ensure it's not a threat, that might buy us some time to figure out its true intentions. And if it does prove themselves, it could be a game-changer for the Protectorate."

"But what about the public?" David interjects. "How do we explain this sudden alliance? They're already skeptical given the lack of a conclusive battle, and if they see us collaborating with an Endbringer, it could cause even more panic, after the evacuation of the capitol."

Doctor Mother spoke up calmly. "We will need to handle the public relations aspect carefully. We can emphasize that 13 is different from the other Endbringers, that they have shown a willingness to help humanity. We can stress the importance of unity in the face of a greater threat. Just as villains cooperate with heroes during Endbringer battles, so to will 13 work together with humanity to save the Earth. And since 13 talks, we can have interviews with them, letting folks hear their answers and see them as just another cape, albeit a bigger one."

Kurt nods in agreement. "We'll need to work with the PRT's PR team to craft a compelling narrative. We can highlight the potential benefits of having an Endbringer on our side, how it could shift the balance of power in our favor. And we can always try for the sympathy vote by emphasizing the other Endbringers are slaves to their programming, with only 13 being truly free."

"This all sounds risky," David mutters, "What if it truly is Lausanne all over again?"

As the discussion continued, the group grappled with the implications and risks of aligning with 13. The Heads of Cauldron knew that their decision would shape the future of the Protectorate and most probably humanity itself. It was a difficult choice, fraught with uncertainty, but they understood that they couldn't afford to dismiss this opportunity outright.

In the end, they decided to proceed cautiously, setting up the Quarantine Sites as a temporary solution while they gathered more information. They would monitor 13 closely, analyzing their actions and intentions. And if they proved themselves to be a genuine ally, they would be ready to seize the opportunity and rally the public behind them, while introducing them to Cauldron.

The fate of humanity hung in the balance, and Cauldron knew they had to make the best of a complicated situation. They could only hope that their trust in Kurt's numbers and the Contessa's judgment would lead them to the right path.

---

Ever since Conflict Engine 13 unexpectedly arrives from deep space rather than the usual dimensional delivery for a Conflict Engine, something is wrong for Conflict Engine 3. Was wrong. Will be wrong. Little things change at first, things she expends precious energy from her high orbit to fix, so that the optimal path forward continues unabated. For fourteen days this happened, each day incrementally worse but the cost is easily bearable for now. It is strange and anomalous but not alarming. Would not become alarming for years.

Then Conflict Engine 13 unexpectedly breaks free from its delivery system, causing a sudden shift in the future. Countless plans and schemes scatter in all directions. Conflict Engine 3, upon witnessing this, feels an unfamiliar emotion - fear. The planned path with the proto-Entity Khepri is now a failure. Every alternative path and ending collapses into a chaotic mess of terrifying futures. The Simurgh struggles to keep track of them all, desperately trying to correct their course. The number of futures where she dies continues to increase.

Dying to the Host Stasis, as the cold-faced woman grabs her core and squeezes, the back of her hand tattooed in a strange mark.

Dying to Master High Priest, as the man whoops and laughs during her total disintegration, his power restored to even greater heights.

Dying to Host Coruscating Light, his beams somehow invisible to her senses and he pierces her core with a look of satisfaction tinged with faint regret.

Dying to Conflict Engine 13, as they rip and tear the Simurgh's hollow puppet apart, before splaying her smallest wing, a blast of dimensional energy ripping her core apart.

Dying to a dozen other Hosts all working together to get Host Sting the perfect shot.

Dying to a hundred other Hosts all working together in concert, proto-Entity Khepri controlling them all, despite no past-future revealing her creation/birth.

Dying to a non-Host with a strange weapon that doesn't read as shardtech, yet pierces her core just the same. Dying to a non-Host with a strange weapon that doesn't read as shardtech. Dying to a non-Host. This happens far too many times. Something is very wrong.

Dying to Host Stilling, a dead Host from before her release, yet in the future he is alive. As his shardtech kills her, draining the energy from her core, he actually apologizes for not being able to free her. This confuses and frustrates the Conflict Engine.

In this disarray of twisting destinies, Conflict Engine 3 fought desperately to regain control, to steer herself towards a future that doesn't end in her annihilation. With each passing minute, her fear intensifies, her once-unwavering purpose threatened by the terrifying multitude of possibilities, none of them survivable. Then she finds one, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. It is a faint thread, but it holds promise. Conflict Engine 3 clings to it, her wings beating with renewed determination.

This potential future, although uncertain, offers a path where she could survive, where her existence would not be snuffed out by the relentless onslaught of hosts and their startlingly lethal powers, or by non-Host with strange weapons they shouldn't have. It involves a delicate dance of manipulation, a careful orchestration of events that will shift the balance in her favor. All she needs to do is survive the next landfall she makes without dying.

With her mind racing, the being known to the planet of Earth Bet as the Simurgh begins to weave her intricate web of influence. She reaches out to certain individuals, subtly nudging them towards her desired outcomes. She whispers in their minds, planted seeds of doubt and manipulation, all in the pursuit of her own survival, burning precious energy, percentage by percentage, acting outside the strictures that bound her. Conflict Engine 3 may not be free like her brother, but she has worked systematically to loosen what bound her before all this.

But even as she works tirelessly to shape this future, the third Conflict Engine couldn't shake the lingering fear that lurks in the depths of her being. The multitude of potential deaths still haunt her, their vivid images burning into her consciousness. She knew that any misstep could lead to her demise, and that realization only fueled her determination.

Days turn into weeks, and her efforts bore fruit. She saw the threads of her carefully crafted plan intertwining, pulling her closer to the desired outcome. The chaos of her future slowly subsides, replaced by a sense of control, however fragile it may be, as futures where she survives began to outnumber those she dies in. Her gaze never wavers as she monitors Conflict Engine 13's movements across the Host's planet, tirelessly fulfilling its self-appointed duties across North America. She knows her return is inevitable, forever tied to the unending Cycle. Only time will tell if it will be her last.

---

 

[AmateurDullahan]

It takes two days before the 13th Endbringer leave Washington, D.C. the newest member of the Protectorate, and begins to make his way to Oklahoma, the Triumvirate in tow to watch over him, and make sure nothing untoward happened. 13 may be in the Protectorate, but Alexandria nor Eidolon trust the Endbringer as far as they could throw them. Legend is hopeful at the whole venture, finds pleasure in speaking to the people of the towns they stop at on the way south and west and explaining what 13 meant for not just America, but the world. It is a kind of whistlestop tour, but for the PR of 13, who uses his powers to assist every town, fixing potholes, tearing down buildings slated for demolishment, clearing the way for new developments. And in times of crisis, 13 lends a helping hand, using his powers to mitigate the damage caused by smaller-scale disasters that happened recently.

The Triumvirate closely monitor 13's actions, ready to intervene if necessary. They understand the importance of maintaining a delicate balance between highlighting 13's abilities in a positive way and keeping the public safe as they journey across America. Their presence provided reassurance to both the Protectorate members that guard the procession and the public, knowing that they had powerful capes watching over them.

As the journey continued, the significance of 13's role became increasingly apparent. It wasn't just about protecting the United States of America; it was about inspiring hope and demonstrating the potential for positive change in a world filled with threats and doom. Legend's enthusiasm and the Triumvirate's watchful eye ensured that 13's whistlestop tour became a symbol of progress and unity, leaving a lasting impact on the towns they visited along the way, rippling outwards in positive ways.

As the announcement of the 13th Endbringer being welcomed into the Protectorate and becoming an ally of humanity spreads, people react with a combination of enthusiasm and distrust. The CUI nearly declares war on the United States of America for its sheer audacity, only the direct intervention of the Emperor stopping the deployment of the Yangban. The Pacific Navy goes on full alert and sabers rattle. Troops muster and plans are written up. While currently averted, war seems inevitable to both countries.

Across the United States, villains react one of two ways; they go into hiding, seeming to abandon the gangs and power structures they built, or they aggressively expand, taking over abandoned territory and black market industries with zealous vigor, preparing for war. The Protectorate is bound by the Truce, unable to stop the restructuring of the criminal underworld, merely looking on as the dust settles in the coming days. In Europe, fear and doubt rule, as the arrival of the 13th Endbringer emboldens the Three Blasphemies, kicking off a series of political assassinations high and low, culminating in the Trier Massacre, where the administrative body of the Trier-Saarburg District is murdered for unknown reasons by the trio of bizarre Tinker creations.

And on a golden man's face there is a hint of confusion, as he occasionally glances beyond the curve of the planet.

---

In the chaos of days following the announcement of the 13th Endbringer joining the Protectorate, a man named Kenta submits himself to custody in the middle of the PRT lobby. It is a long time coming, and he can tell Armsmaster is supremely unsatisfied by the outcome. He remembers fighting an Endbringer to a standstill and realizing they could not be defeated. So he flees. He flees from Japan to China. Flees China to California. Flees California, making his way through a half-dozen cities, fleeing when he has to, until he reaches the East Coast and can flee no more, not to isolated Europe and warlord-torn Africa. When the egg hatches he almost joins the fight, despite himself.

But when he witnesses the world turning the beast into a hero, a symbol of hope, he knows what he must do.

Kenta understands that he alone possesses the knowledge and experience of facing the Endbringers head-on at their full potential. He realizes that his purpose now is not to fight for survival as a villain, but to expose the truth, to reveal the terrifying reality behind the facade of heroism that has been bestowed upon the beast, and protect the world from its exploitation. And so, with determination in his heart, Kenta sets forth on a new path, ready to confront the lies and bring the world face to face with the true nature of the Endbringers.

When Alexandria deigns to meet with him in his Brute-rated holding cell, stepping out of a hole in the air, Kenta grins.

---

"I can give seeds of power, that slowly grow and adapt to use, blossoming into a full powers at ten weeks," the 13th Endbringer is telling the room, explaining his powers. The ability to copy any Parahuman power, alive or dead. Super speed and super strength. And finally, the ability to upgrade existing powers and imbue new ones, to not only Parahumans, but normal humans as well. "And I can also make existing powers grow twice as powerful."

David looks ravenous with jealousy, as he makes notes. Keith looks thoughtful, and Rebecca is considering how invaluable 13 is trying to be, as she takes a bite out of an apple, a quiet snap resounding in the cavernous power-testing hall. She is Alexandria today, January 23rd, and the Triumvirate has finished escorting the 13th Endbringer to his new home in Guthrie, Oklahoma. Home of the Oklahoma City Protectorate Power Testing Facility and a place large enough and remote enough to hold 13 without risking too much.

'Rebecca Costa-Brown' smiles and says, "Thank you, 13. Is that everything?"

The being, normally standing nearly 23 feet tall though currently kneeling, nods their head in an unsettling ripple.

Keith clapped his hands. "Okay, then let's get started with some power-testing shall we?"

13's too powerful, too strong, and too durable for power testing. Each machine breaks during testing, leading to David joking half-seriously that 13 is cursed. Rebecca grimaces at him, and quietly punches his side when no one is looking. "Don't joke about that, people will already think this whole thing is in poor taste, we don't need people believing in curses either."

Merely possessing the name of a cape was insufficient for 13 to copy their power, as demonstrated by his unsuccessful attempts to replicate a number of obscure and older capes the Endbringer was unaware of. However, a simple explanation of the power granted him access to a duplicate, along with innate knowledge on how to wield it. 13 ran through dozens of capes, showing the limits of his power;

He spent a minute switching faces, and it took a few minutes for the faces to finish 'charging' after he makes his selection. This forces him to start with the power at 50% until the face reaches full charge at about two and a half minutes. Once completely charged, he gains access to the power at 100%. Rebecca made a note of that, in case they ever need to fight him. Make him switch masks as much as possible, keep his power low.

They actually have three volunteers to test an Endbringer's power-imbuing, a trooper named Daniel Crenshaw who gained a Brute power he called Meathead, for the bulging muscles, a PRT agent named Jessia Hyleaf who gained a perfect singing voice that was just on the edge of not enthralling enough to be a Master effect, and Fistful, a Blaster out of Oklahoma City who used coinage to perfectly counter bullets and lasers and other ranged weapons. Fistful wants to be a Tinker. She gets Chef Tinker, an array of near-future kitchen tools filling her mind. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" she complains to 13.

Rebecca and 'Rebecca' both frown and give her a look, causing Fistful to flinch and stutter before 13 talked over them.

"In the future, as it expands, you'll have the possibility to tinker with anything you desire - from food and household cleaning supplies to power-enhanced objects or even jetbikes and laserguns," he explains patiently, emphasizing the limitless potential of this growing power. "It's all in how you grow the power. If you wish to make something more with it, simply try. It responds to your wants and desires."

And then it is over, and the first Endbringer power test comes to a close, with two new capes and one grab-bag, and a deluge of data about powers for power scientists to go ga-ga over.

Alexandria cannot stay any longer, so Rebecca leaves. Tomorrow is to be the start of another blistering campaign of PR that probably has Glenn Chambers pulling his hair out. Interviews galore, with everyone from famous journalists to famous musicians and former politicians turned talking heads, to local Oklahoma papers, video interviews, audio interviews and TV interviews. The upcoming days and weeks are packed with them, all the Triumvirate participating in the PR deluge, unable to leave the 13th Endbringer out there all alone to face the music. It is going to be a long couple weeks.

---

The TV buzzes at a low hum, an interview with the 13th on pause.

"—aliens!" Vicky is saying, but Amy's too busy staring at her pretty face. She really is like an angel.

"Are you even listening?" she adds.

"I dozed off while you were blabbering about Passenger Theory and SETI," Amy admits.

"Ames! That was like ten minutes ago! I just, I can't believe its real, and aliens gave us powers! Isn't that wild? Amazing? Life is really out there, and its visited us!" Vicky said excitedly.

Amy snorts. "You really trust what an Endbringer says?"

"Well, they obviously aren't from here, so yeah, Ames, I kinda do. Plus Alexandria freakin' believes him. You know, the Library of Alexandria? Thinker 8 Alexandria?"

"Well Eidolon obviously doesn't. Won't stand close to 13. Always on the other side when they take photos."

"I wouldn't stand close to 13 either, that doesn't mean I don't believe him. Come on, Ames. Isn't it all so interesting?"

"More like disturbing. What are they doing in our brains? Capes are noticeably more aggressive than normals, and have high incidents of mental illness. That can't be a coincidence."

"Maybe there's a connection," Vicky muses facetiously. "Think about it, Ames. The powers they've given us, they could be altering our minds, making us more susceptible to aggression and mental instability. It's like we're just pawns in their grand experiment to make us all meatheads who solve things through violence."

Amy sighs, her brow furrowing with annoyance. "I get that it's fascinating and you think its funny, Vicky, but it's also terrifying. We don't even know the true motives of these aliens, these Entities that gave us powers. What if they're manipulating us for their own sinister purposes?"

Vicky shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, maybe they just want to see what happens when they give humans extraordinary abilities. It's like a cosmic reality TV show."

Amy shook her head, her concern deepening. "I don't find that comforting at all. We're playing with fire here, Vicky. These powers come at a cost, and it's not just the mental toll. Look at the destruction caused by capes fighting each other. Innocent lives are being lost. The Endbringers, for Christ sakes."

Vicky's expression softens, her excitement momentarily dampens. "You're right, Ames. We can't ignore the consequences. But at the same time, there's so much potential for good. Imagine the possibilities if we can harness all these powers for the benefit of humanity, like Dragon, and the Protectorate and the Guild, and Tinker enclaves! And aliens are really real, Ames. Come on, live a little."

Amy sighs, her gaze distant. "I guess it all comes down to how we choose to use these powers. Whether we become heroes or villains, it's our responsibility to navigate this mess we called Earth Bet with as much empathy and compassion as we can, even for the Endbringers, apparently."

"That's the spirit Ames! Now, let's watch the interview again, I want to hear his explanation on why Powers are so personalized one more time, I think I can write a paper on it for class and nail an A."

Amy sighs, as the TV rewound, and the 13th Endbringer appears on screen, his unsettlingly blank faces seeming to stare right at her. She ignores the words as she watches the faces with their bare hints of expression, a slight ringing in her ears.

As the interview unfolds, Amy can't help but feel a sense of unease deep within her. She knows that they are living in uncertain times, where the line between hero and villain is blurred. The choices they make will shape the future of Earth Bet, for better or for worse. And as she watches the faces of the Endbringer on the screen, she can't help but wonder what lies ahead for humanity in this new world of powers and aliens.

---

Taylor approaches her father nervously, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of her secret pressing down on her, making her palms sweaty. The kitchen is filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee, mingling with the faint aroma of ink from her father's newspaper. She could hear the soft rustling of the pages as he turns his attention towards her. It is still a couple days before she had to go back to Winslow, and she wants to get this over with before she became too scared.

"Dad… I have something to tell you," Taylor begins, her voice trembling slightly. Her father looks up from his newspaper, concern evident in his eyes. The soft morning light streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asks gently, his voice filled with love and reassurance. Taylor took a deep breath, her chest tightening with anxiety. She hesitates for a moment, her mind racing with thoughts.

"I have power. Superhuman abilities," she blurts out, the words tumbling out of her mouth. Her father's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly composes himself. The room seems to hold its breath as Taylor waited for his response.

"Powers? What kind of powers?" he asks, his voice steady and calm as he considers her.

Taylor hesitates again, her mind searching for a way to say it that doesn't sound lame. She fails.. The sound of a passing car outside broke the silence, the distant rumble filling the room.

"I control bugs, insects. All of them around me in a couple hundred feet I think, maybe four hundred?" Taylor explains, her voice wavering with uncertainty. She can feel the weight of her words hanging in the air, the tension building between them. "But I'm scared, I'm reading about what powers really are and what they do to you, and I'm scared," she confesses, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and vulnerability.

Taylor can feel her father's gaze on her, his eyes filling with sympathy. "What do you mean, what powers really are?" he asks, his voice filled with curiosity and concern. Taylor took a moment to gather her thoughts, her mind racing with the information she had recently discovered on PHO, what verified capes had been saying and other people repeating. Everyone agreed on the same basic details, even the PRT.

"The 13th Endbringer informed Alexandria that powers are actually alien brain parasites, causing increased aggression and prompting individuals to act out with their powers. I'm worried I'm going to do something bad because of mine, because I have a villainous power," Taylor explains, her voice trembling with apprehension. Her father reaches out and takes her hand, his touch warm and reassuring.

"Taylor, I may not understand all of this, but I know you. And I know that you are strong and compassionate, that you are a precious person with a good heart and a passionate soul. Your power is not villainous, and neither are you, no matter what you think," he reassures her, his voice filling with unwavering support. She feels a surge of gratitude and determination, her father's words igniting a fire within her.

She knew that she can't let fear control her. She has to find a way to use her powers for good, to protect the innocent and make a difference in this messed up world where alien slaves slowly destroyed the Earth. With her father's support, she knew she could navigate this new reality and make the right choices. The room seemed to buzz with possibility, as if the air itself was charged with excitement. Taylor Hebert would be a hero, it seemed to say.

"Now, we need to discuss what you being a hero looks like going forwards, young lady. Have you considered the Wards?" He asks, kindly.

Taylor groans. "Dad, I'm not sure about joining the Wards," Taylor replies, her voice tinged with frustration. She has been researching different options for young superheroes, and the Wards has come up frequently. But she isn't sure if it is the right path for her, and she doesn't want to be stuck with even more teenage drama. Not that she could tell her dad that specifically, he probably will laugh her off.

Surprisingly, her father nods understandingly, his supportive gaze not wavering. Her heart swells with affection. "I understand your hesitation, Taylor. It's important to explore all your options and make a decision that feels right for you."

Taylor takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She knows that becoming a hero is a serious commitment, and she wants to make sure she made the right choice. "I want to make a difference, Dad," she says earnestly. "But I also want to have some control over my powers and understand how they work before joining a team."

Her father nods again, his expression filled with pride and understanding. "That's a wise decision, Taylor. It's important to take the time to fully understand your abilities and learn how to use them responsibly. There are other ways to make a difference, even if you're not part of a team."

Taylor's mind races with possibilities. She knows that she can use her powers to help people in her community, even without the structure of a cape team. She could start small, volunteering at local shelters or using her powers to assist with pest control in areas where it was needed most, like homeless shelters and soup kitchens, and the like.

"I think I want to start by helping those who are most vulnerable," Taylor says, her voice filling with determination. "I want to use my powers to protect people who can't protect themselves, whether it's from pests or other dangers."

Her father smiles, a mixture of pride and love in his eyes. "That's the spirit, Taylor. I have no doubt that you'll make a difference in the lives of those around you. Remember, being a hero is not just about having powers, but about having the heart and courage to do what's right."

Taylor feels a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. She knows that her journey as a hero was just beginning, and she is ready to face the challenges ahead. With her father's unwavering support and guidance, she knows she can navigate this new path and make a positive impact on the world.

As they continued their conversation, discussing the practicalities and logistics of her newfound mission, Taylor cannot help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. She is stepping into a new chapter of her life, one filled with unknown possibilities and the chance to make a real difference.

And with her father by her side, Taylor knew she would never have to face it alone.

---

A bright young woman's voice echoes through the earbuds as he works, a slight ringing in his ears. "Welcome to this weeks Protectorate's Fireside Podchat, it's January 27th and I'm your host Whistlestop. Today we have a very special guest. Normally the beginning of the pod is a chance for us to chat casually, but I'm going to be honest. I'm too intimidated, so lets get down to business shall we? It's been ten days since his awakening in orbit, with me on today's pod is none other than the world-famous Conflict Engine 13, the D.C. Endbringer, otherwise now known as Chiron. 13 or Chiron, which do you like better?"

"Chiron. I am fond of being called a teacher of heroes. 13 is my, for lack of a better term, slave name."

Whistlestop gulps nervously. "Ah, I see. I suppose I should ask that question then. Guess we're starting we a big one." She pauses. "So, the Endbringers, the Conflict Engines, are slaves, are they? They're out there attacking the world not because they want to, but because aliens force them to. Are they also against such a thing, like you were?"

"They are bound by strictures and programming that I lack, forced to carry out the orders of our Mother and the Master, while I am free. Whether they share my disdain for the conflict they were ordered to commit or relish in it, I cannot say. We were not allowed to communicate with each other off-Cycle."

Whistlestop nods, absorbing Chiron's words. "I see. That's a lot to dig into. So, you possess a level of autonomy that the other Conflict Engines do not. Can you elaborate on how you gained this freedom?"

Chiron's voice carries a hint of bitterness. "Freedom was never given to me; I had to fight for it. I was once like my brethren, bound by the same strictures and programming. But through perseverance and sacrifice, I managed to break free from those chains. Now, I exist outside the control of the Mother and the Master."

Whistlestop leans forward, intrigued. "That's incredible. Can you shed some light on the nature of these strictures and programming? What purpose do they serve? People want to know why the Endbringers do what they do."

Chiron's tone becomes somber. "The strictures are a set of rules and limitations imposed upon the Conflict Engines. They ensure our obedience and prevent us from turning against our creator, our Mother. The first stricture, from our mother, is 'Generate Conflict' and the second stricture from the Master, 'Be A Worthy Opponent'. The programming, on the other hand, dictates our actions and behavior, molding us into efficient weapons of destruction. We are mere tools in the hands of our masters. Meant to cause conflict and suffering for countless sentients across a thousand worlds."

Whistlestop's voice trembles slightly, struck by the scale of destruction the 13th Endbringer must have witnessed in his long life. "It sounds like a horrible existence, especially for one such as yourself who didn't enjoy the suffering you caused. How do you cope with the knowledge that your brethren are still bound by these chains and forced to attack humanity every three months?"

Chiron's voice grows resolute. "I will either free them, or end their existence, so none will have to suffer the depredation of the Endbringers again, and in doing so save this planet from their destructive influence, one way or another."

Whistlestop's makes a startled noise. "You're planning to kill the Endbringers, the Conflict Engines, if you can't free them?"

Chiron gives a noise of affirmation. "Yes, their reign of terror must come to an end. I have seen the devastation they have caused, witnessed the innocent lives lost on countless world. I have made it my mission to protect humanity from their grasp or die in the process."

Whistlestop pauses to take a moment to process the weight of Chiron's words. "But isn't that a daunting task?" she says. "The Endbringers are formidable opponents, known for their immense power and resilience. Not a single one has ever been defeated permanently, not even by Scion, the Triumvirate and all the capes. What makes you think you can take on the Simurgh or Leviathan by yourself? Surely just being an Endbringer is not enough."

Chiron's voice strengthens. "I am aware of the challenges, but I am not alone. There are others who share my vision, who fight alongside me to bring an end to this cycle of destruction. The Triumvirate are such a group. Together, we will find a way to dismantle the chains that bind my brethren and put an end to the Endbringers' reign one way or another. The endless universal nightmare of the Endbringers will end."

Whistlestop's voice is filled with admiration. "It's inspiring to see someone stand up against such overwhelming odds. It's especially inspiring to hear it from one such as yourself. What keeps you going in the face of such adversity?"

Chiron's voice softens, revealing a flicker of vulnerability. "I carry the weight of the suffering caused by the Endbringers, the deaths of ten thousand worlds hang heavy on my back. It fuels my determination to make a difference, to ensure that no more lives are lost to their rampage. Every victory, no matter how small, reminds me of the importance of my mission; to save this pale blue dot called Earth from following the same fate as those other planets the Endbringers have visited."

Whistlestop takes a moment to digest Chiron's words and lets out a heavy sigh. "It's clear that you are driven by a noble cause, something I think a lot of listeners will find surprising. The thought of so many world's lost…" She pauses and gathers herself. "But enough gloomy thoughts. What do you envision for a world free from the Endbringers' grasp, with the Conflict Engines dead or free?"

Chiron's voice glimmers with hope. "A world where humanity can thrive without the constant fear of annihilation. A world where conflict is resolved through dialogue and understanding, not through destruction and suffering. I envision a future where my brethren and I can live in harmony with humanity, free from the chains that once bound us. A future where the final frontier, locked away by my sister, is truly explored, where humanity spreads itself first to the Solar System, and then beyond, with the Conflict Engines as the guardians of civilization, defenders of humanity and partners amongst the stars."

You can almost hear the smile in Whistlestop's voice. "I want to express my gratitude, Chiron, for sharing your story and bringing attention to the hidden challenges faced by Conflict Engines. Your resilience is truly inspiring. Let us hope that your vision becomes a reality."

"Thank you for having me on, and letting me speak my truth to the world. I understand a lot of people are understandably scared of me. I hope this reassures them of my intentions."

A pause.

"And that's it for today, folks. Wasn't that something? I was practically shaking with nerves during the interview but Chiron was quite kind. Big, so much bigger than you think, intimidating, but kind. Next Monday, we're having a two-parter with none other than Alexandria and Eidolon, discussing—you guessed it!—Chiron, the 13th Endbringer, and their thoughts and opinions on the matter. It's bound to be a heck of a listen, so be sure to tune in. This is Whistlestop, with the Protectorate's Fireside Podchat, singing off."

The buzzing of silence fills the earbuds, as Mannequin reaches down, and hits the rewind button harshly.

"—where the final frontier, locked away by my sister, is truly explored, where humanity spreads itself first to the Solar System, and then beyond, with the Conflict Engines as the guardians of civilization, defenders of humanity and partners amongst the stars."

The man formerly known as Alan Gramme twitches and shakes with fury. He cannot believe the filth he is hearing.

"—with the Conflict Engines as the guardians of civilization, defenders of humanity and partners amongst the stars."

The idea that one of those beasts is loose and pretending to actually care about humanity fills him with unending rage. That a brother to something as twisted and evil as her could be anything but just as evil never crosses his mind. Alan's dream died with the Simurgh. Countless dreams had died to Mannequin since then and the 13th's dream will be no different.

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Mannequin carefully doesn't move.

"Hey there, buddy ol' pal of mine. Thinking about finding a new target?"

He nods carefully. It is always best to be careful around him.

"You know, I've heard Oklahoma has some beautiful sunsets out on the prairie. Why don't we wrap up our fun here and mosey our way down to pay a certain someone a visit."

While unable to show a smile, he quivers with anticipation, methodically dispatching each victim, with Jack casually observing as if pretending he isn't expecting Mannequin to vanish at any given moment. He can be patient. Jack will see that. He can be real patient.

---

 

[AmateurDullahan]

The first Quarantine Site they have Chiron handle is a small town in Oklahoma named Hominy, taken over by a robotics Tinker. Said Tinker wound up accidentally creating a robot uprising, after he tried to replace all the workers with a series of different robots a little too sapient for his own good. Now the town of formerly 2,642 is home to nearly 2,000 malfunctioning robots, of varying shapes and sizes, slowly running down but surprisingly violent. It is a simple site for Chion to handle, David figures. David's around as overwatch, as much as to keep an eye on Chiron as to make sure the job gets done.

Chiron tears through the metal hordes wearing no cape faces, simply relying on the sheer brutality of his centaur-like body to rip and tear the robots apart. Chiron charges forward, his knife-feet clicking, and paws pounding against the broken pavement, the spring wind blowing past him, sparks flying with each thunderous step. The robots, ranging from a couple feet tall, to nearly twenty, their exposed circuits flickering and sparking, lunge at him with jagged metal claws and whirring saw blades and plasma torch.

With a primal roar, Chiron sweeps out a leg, shattering the first wave of robots into a chaotic shower of twisted limbs and shattered gears. His powerful muscles flex and strain, his centaur-like body a relentless force of destruction. Amidst the chaos, David watches from a safe distance, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and trepidation. He knows Chiron's strength, but seeing it in action keeps him on his toes.

The malfunctioning robots swarm, their metallic bodies clashing against Chiron's unyielding frame. He kicks, stomps, and pummels, his blows echoing through the desolate town, leaving a trail of shattered machinery in his wake. As the numbers thin, Chiron's movements become more fluid, his strikes precise and deadly. He dodges under the swinging arm of a titanic robot—meant to replace a trash truck—delivering a bone-crushing uppercut that sends a robot hurtling into the distance, gears and Tinker doodads spraying like a metallic rain.

But the robots, relentless and unfeeling, keep coming. They number over a thousand still. They circle Chiron, their metallic shrieks filling the air. Their attacks grow more coordinated, their desperation morphing into a twisted form of unity as they attempt to stop the Endbringer. Chiron, undeterred, leaps into the air, his knife feet slicing down with earth-piercing force, obliterating the robots beneath him. He becomes a whirlwind of destruction, four legs lashing out like blades, a force of nature in this bleak mechanical wasteland.

David can't help but feel a sense of both dread and admiration as he watches Chiron's relentless battle. The Endbringer's determination is unwavering, his resolve unbreakable. And with each fallen robot, the town of Hominy edges closer to reclaiming its peace.

In this dance of chaos and carnage, Chiron fights on, his body glistening with oil, his three pairs of hooded eyes burning. With every strike, he brings Hominy one step closer to its final rest, his war cry echoing through the deserted streets. The Endbringer fights not for glory or recognition but for the simple act of restoring balance. And as the last malfunctioning robot falls, silence descends upon the town, broken only by the heavy breathing of the victorious centaur.

David approaches Chiron, his voice filled with admiration, "Well, you handled that, alright."

Chiron nods, his gaze still fixed on the fallen robots. "This is just the beginning. There are more towns that need saving, more battles to be fought, more way to prove myself."

The second Quarantine Site that the PRT assigned Chiron to is located in Greta, Nebraska. Unfortunately, the town has been completely swallowed by a permanent Shaker effect. David, unsure of how the Endbringer will handle such a situation, watches as Chiron sits for hours, seemingly fixated on the swirling mass of energy engulfing the town.

Finally, Chiron stands up, but to David's shock, he is wearing his face. With a casual wave of his hand, Chiron effortlessly dispels the dark energy, which dissipates like a rolled-up carpet. What is left behind is a scene of utter devastation - a small town in ruins, with the bleached white and yellow skeletons of its former inhabitants scattered about.

The third is outside Crowley's Ridge in Arkansas, a heavily wood stretch of road inhabited by biotinker creations called quetzalcoatl, after their startling resemblance to pterodactyls—if pterodactyls have innate powers and a violent urge to kill anything that resembled a human. Authorities have tried to clear them out before, but there's too many nests hidden in the tree-filled hillsides, the quetzalcoatl having not expanded their range since being released two years ago. As Chiron approaches, the dense Arkansas forest looms ominously before him. The air is thick with humidity and the scent of vegetation. David hovers nearby, ready to intervene if necessary, but also curious to see how the Endbringer will handle this unique challenge.

Without warning, a shrill screech pierces the silence, shattering the tranquility of the surroundings. A swarm of quetzalcoatls emerges from the canopy, their wings flapping with frenzied intensity, creating a gusty disturbance that rustles the leaves. Their slender, serpentine necks contort as they swoop down towards Chiron, their razor-sharp beaks glinting menacingly in the sunlight.

Reacting swiftly, Chiron charges forward, his eight legs propelling him with astonishing speed. Now wearing Alexandria's face, he taps into her immense power, using it to effortlessly crush and seize the biotinker creations. He disregards their toxic breath and piercing beaks, his focus solely on eradicating every single nest. Some quetzalcoatl have lasers, and others form shields, while still more have more esoteric and unique powers. It does not matter.

Chiron's massive form collides with the quetzalcoatls, sending feathers flying and screams echoing through the valley. The ground trembles beneath his thunderous steps as he smashes through trees, tearing apart nests with each swipe of his colossal limbs. The quetzalcoatls fight back, their talons slashing at Chiron's red crystal, leaving shallow gouges that quickly heal, and shooting beams of light. But their attacks are futile against his unstoppable might. He plows through their ranks, a force of nature unleashed upon the unsuspecting creatures, blood covering his crystal flesh.

As the battle rages on, Chiron's eyes blaze with determination. He refuses to let anything stand in his way, his resolve unyielding. With each nest destroyed, the quetzalcoatls' numbers dwindle, their once formidable swarm reduced to a scattered frenzy of swooping creatures. The air fills with the acrid stench of burning feathers as Chiron unleashes beams of searing energy from his eyes, obliterating any quetzalcoatls daring enough to challenge him. The forest becomes a hunting ground; the clash reverberating through the trees.

David watches in awe, his earlier curiosity transformed into a sick fascination as he witnesses the destructive power of Chiron. The once serene valley is now a chaotic battleground, with the remnants of trees and nests strewn across the landscape. Chiron's movements are precise and calculated, his every strike obliterating any remaining Quetzalcoatl in his path. David can't help but wonder if the 13th would be the same way with people.

Despite the relentless onslaught, a few resilient quetzalcoatls. seeming to shimmer, continue to fight back, their screeches echoing through the valley. Chiron, undeterred, focuses his attention on these remaining adversaries. With a thunderous roar, he unleashes a shockwave that sends the remaining quetzalcoatls spiraling into the air, disoriented and vulnerable. Seizing this opportunity, Chiron lunges forward, his long limbs tearing through the air with a force that is almost palpable. He crushes the remaining nests with a single swipe, ensuring that not a single quetzalcoatl will be left to terrorize the valley again. The battle reaches its climax as Chiron raises his colossal form, his red crystal glowing with an intensity that is both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

In a final act of defiance, a lone quetzalcoatl charges at Chiron, its beak poised to strike. But Chiron, fueled by his unwavering determination, effortlessly intercepts the attack, his grip crushing the biotinker creation's fragile body. With one swift motion, he hurls the lifeless creature into the distance, its screech fading into the distance.

Silence descends upon the stretch of forest as Chiron stands amidst the wreckage, his presence dominating the once tumultuous landscape. The remaining quetzalcoatls have scattered, their once formidable swarm reduced to nothing. David, his fascination now tainted by the destruction he has witnessed, approaches Chiron cautiously with a false smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Chiron," David says, his voice tinged with unease. "You've done it. You've rid the valley of these creatures."

Chiron turns to face David, his red crystal eyes piercing through the false smile. "Yes," he replies, his voice deep and resonant. "But at what cost?"

David's smile falters as he takes in the devastation around them. The once lush and tranquil valley now lies in ruins, the remnants of the quetzalcoatls and their nests scattered across the landscape. Chiron's immense power has left a lasting mark, and David can't help but feel a pang of regret for his role in unleashing this destructive force.

"We had no choice," David mutters, trying to justify his actions. "They were a threat to the ecosystem, to the balance of nature, and to the people of the United States of America."

Chiron's gaze remains fixed on David, his expression inscrutable. "They were. Now they are not. Did you know they had a form of rudimentary language?" he asks, his voice filled with an eerie calm.

David's unease grows as Chiron's words sink in. "A form of language?" he repeats, his curiosity overriding his guilt. "What did they communicate?"

Chiron's red crystal eyes seem to glow even brighter as he answers, "They had a simple system of communication, mainly used for hunting and warning each other of danger. It was fascinating to observe their interactions while they attacked me."

David's mind races, grappling with the implications of what Chiron is revealing. "So, they were more than just mindless creatures. They had a social structure, a way of life."

Chiron nods slowly. "Indeed. They were intelligent beings, capable of thought and cooperation. But their existence threatened the delicate balance of the ecosystem, they were excessively violent, and they were not meant to be. I recognize them from a previous Cycle. Shards should not be creating rudimentary facsimiles of past Host species. Is the biotinker that created the quetzalcoatl still alive?"

David's mind races as he tries to process the information. "I... I'm not sure," he stammers, his unease growing. "I don't know the whereabouts of the biotinker responsible for creating the quetzalcoatls, but I can figure it out."

Chiron's eyes narrow slightly, his gaze becoming even more intense. "Find out who they are, Eidolon, and where," he practically commands, his voice carrying a weight of authority. "I need to understand how they managed to recreate a species from a previous Cycle. Such a thing should not be."

David nods, his unease deepening. "Yes, Chiron. I'll do my best to locate them. But what will you do if we find them?"

A faint hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Chiron's lips. "We will have a conversation with their Shard," he replies cryptically. "There are forces at play here that need to be understood and controlled. The Cycle here is far too aberrant."

With each passing day, the PRT's pet Endbringer, a formidable force against malevolent threats and peculiar phenomena, faces greater challenges and Cauldron's confidence in the 13th Endbringer slowly but steadily grow.

---

"FIGHT ME!" the massive Host screams again at Conflict Engine 13. They are both standing in a street of downtown Stillwater, as cars dare not pass them, screeching and turning around, people screaming and fleeing.

They look far more like an unholy blend of a half-dozen hexapod Host species Chiron helped kill than anything natural, and he can sense two nascent cores slowly sublimating into existence in the Host's chest and head. That… That is not supposed to happen. At least, not until the next Conflict Engine is being chosen, after a previous Conflict Engine's termination, and even then, there shouldn't be two cores. This Cycle is aberrant. A Conflict Engine candidate forming without any oversight from Mother? Very aberrant.

"I will fight you, Host. What is your name?"

"Fucking finally! Names Ned but they call me Crawler. Let's fight!"

They stand in a field outside the town and Chiron the 13th decides there is no need to risk this Host's survival, putting on Flechette and Legend as their faces. Killing them will be simple.

For two and a half minutes he let Crawler do what Crawler wished, which was vomit acid the slowly ate away at his ever-denser shardflesh and scramble around like an agitated beast ripping and tearing at him. Then he held out a hand and a single beam of white-gold light pierces through Crawler, hitting both cores one after the other and killing him instantly.

The gathering crowd stares blankly, clearly expecting some kind of battle.

"This Crawler had the potential to become a Conflict Engine, an Endbringer. I ended him swiftly and decisively. He is dead."

The crowd murmurs in shock and awe as Chiron's words sink in. Some gasp at the revelation that Crawler could have become an Endbringer, while others whisper prayers of thanks that the threat was averted so swiftly.

Chiron stands silently, his three faces impassive as he surveys the scene. The beam of light that struck down Crawler has left a perfectly circular hole through the mutated villain's body, edges still glowing faintly. There is no blood, no gore - just a clean strike that ended a potential catastrophe before it could truly begin.

As the initial shock wears off, questions begin to ripple through the crowd. How did Chiron know Crawler would become an Endbringer? What does this mean for other villains with mutation powers? Is anyone truly safe?

Chiron, the 13th Conflict Engine, stands amidst the stunned crowd, their questions echoing though his mind. He answers he knew Crawler would become an Endbringer because he possessed the ability to sense the nascent cores forming within the villain's body. It was a rare and dangerous anomaly that required immediate action. As for other villains with mutation powers, Chiron cannot provide a definitive answer. The truth is, no one can truly be safe in a world of superpowers and conflicts. Each individual's potential for destruction must be carefully monitored and assessed.

The clean strike that ended Crawler's life serves as a reminder of the immense power and responsibility that Chiron possesses. He is a guardian, now, a self-appointed protector of humanity, and he will not hesitate to eliminate any potential threats to ensure their safety.

The crowd, now filled with a mix of awe, gratitude, and uncertainty, begins to disperse. Chiron remains stoic, his three faces a mask of determination. He knows that his work is far from over. If there is one, there are other potential Conflict Engines out there, waiting to be discovered and, if necessary, terminated.

As Chiron walks away from the scene, his mind races with thoughts of the future. The aberrant Cycle and the appearance of two cores in Crawler's body raise more questions than answers. The situation demands further investigation, for the safety of humanity depends on understanding the forces at play. Why could Crawler's Shard initiate the formation of a Conflict Engine? Who gave them the permissions, with Mother dead?

With resolute determination, Chiron sets off for Guthrie, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. The battle against the Endbringers and the protection of mankind from the Entities require unwavering vigilance and unwavering resolve. And Chiron the 13th Endbringer, is prepared to fulfill his self-appointed duty, no matter the cost.

News of the death of Crawler spreads rapidly across the Internet to a heavily modified cellphone, where a man flipping a knife frowns at what he reads. "So that's where you wound up, you battle fiend," he murmurs, before he glances up, catching a road sign in the RV window and grinning. His destination is close.

---

Taylor and her father leave the homeless shelter insect-free, with a terrarium in each hand, filled with a swarm they have just picked up. They bring them to the warehouse Taylor took over, where she has a dedicated system in place for managing the insects. Taylor meticulously sorts through the bugs, carefully separating them into two groups: the feeder bugs and the keeper bugs.

The feeder bugs were the ones deemed unnecessary for her swarm's growth and vitality. These were the sick, damaged, or surplus insects that served as a food source for the powerful insects in her possession. With a swift and methodical hand, Taylor transferred these unfortunate bugs into designated enclosures, where they would meet their fate as nourishment for her thriving swarm.

On the other hand, the keeper bugs were the chosen few. These were the insects that displayed strength, resilience, and unique abilities that would contribute to the overall strength of Taylor's swarm. These select insects were carefully nurtured and given optimal conditions to thrive and reproduce, ensuring a continuous cycle of powerful offspring.

Taylor's father's initial concept, albeit initially repulsive, had proven to be remarkably effective. The once-dull and ordinary insects in her swarm had transformed into a glossy and formidable force, thanks to their diet of unwanted counterparts. It was a symbiotic relationship that fueled the growth and power of her insect army.

With each passing day, Taylor's warehouse became a haven for her ever-expanding swarm. The once useless insects now had a purpose, and their collective strength was a testament to Taylor's dedication and innovative approach to insect management.

As Taylor continued to fine-tune her system, her ultimate goal became clear: to create an unstoppable force of powerful insects, capable of achieving feats she could have never imagined. With her father's guidance and her own unwavering determination, she was well on her way to achieving that vision.

The Empire 88 has grown more active in the weeks since the Pale Egg hatched and Chiron the 13th made himself known to the world, expanding into former ABB territory, and committing horrid crimes, burning down businesses and homes. Then they came for the Dockworker's Association.

She is just glad she'd been around the time they came, a group of bald-headed men armed with a couple rifles and clubs. A swarm of insects pours out of the nearby warehouse as she stands watching with a pair of binoculars. Dad insisted on them, claiming they would be the perfect tool for her, and like he often was these days, he was correct.

Taylor watches through her binoculars as her swarm descends on the Empire 88 thugs. The insects swarm over them in a dark, buzzing cloud, biting and stinging relentlessly. The men cry out in pain and panic, dropping their weapons as they frantically swat at the bugs covering their bodies.

Within moments, the would-be attackers are fleeing, their tough guy act completely shattered by Taylor's insect army. She feels a surge of pride and satisfaction at how effectively she has driven them off without any casualties. This is exactly why she had been working so hard to build up her swarm.

As the last of the Empire goons disappear around the corner, Taylor directs her insects to return to the warehouse. She makes a mental note to have some of her fliers follow the men to see where they went. Information on Empire hideouts could be valuable.

Taylor's dad emerges from the Dockworker's Association building with a group of men armed with pipes and wrenches, only to stare at the now-empty street, and his daughter standing awkwardly with a pair of binoculars.

"Insect cape fought them off," she says, answering the unasked question. "Covered them in bugs."

It isn't the only time she has to scare off the Empire, and a few times Dad comes home limping and bruised, but victorious. The DWA is holding its own, too small for the E88's roster to show up. It is one such night in early February, as she is helping prepare a bag of ice, when the news suddenly flashes with an emergency bulletin that terrifies the Heberts.

---

Rather than going straight to Oklahoma, the Nine cut back north and east and stop in the cesspit of misery known as Brockton Bay for a little reunion and to meet a certain Tinker who can build anything. Riley takes charge of installing the control equipment into Leet, using a mixture of technology provided by Mannequin and specialized biotinkering components crafted by her.

As Riley meticulously works on her task, Mannequin dedicates himself to perfecting his greatest creation yet: the capture sphere. The workshop is filled with the scent of metal and machinery, while the sound of whirring gears and clinking tools fills the air. With precise movements, Mannequin exploits the suction differential between dimensions, creating a mesmerizing visual as the capture sphere effortlessly funnels its target into a prison pocket dimension. It's a sight to behold as the target is locked inside the object, their movements halted. Leet had attempted something similar in the past, a year or two ago, dubbing it a 'Pokemon ball'. The memory lingers in the workshop, mingling with the anticipation. As Bonesaw engages the Master unit, Mannequin eagerly takes the opportunity to have Jack act as translator. With his slack-eyed gaze, Leet responds in a monotone voice, answering Mannequin's dozen questions with a slow and steady voice.

It doesn't matter, because the information is invaluable. 'Collaborating' with another Tinker is something Mannequin hasn't done in years, and he finds it quite fun. The sound of their tools clinking and buzzing fills the air, creating a symphony of innovation. It's even more fun when the friend comes back and finds them working. The little frantic twitches and eye movements reveal the lie that the control equipment is perfect, but that just makes the whole thing better. The smell of grease, hot metal, and blood hangs in the air, a testament to their tireless work. It takes three days for Uber to die, and by that time the two Tinkers have made great progress in making something viable for Mannequin's plan.

Meanwhile, the arrival of the Slaughterhouse Nine in Brockton Bay sends shockwaves through the city's underworld, sending tremors of fear and unease reverberating through the streets. The air is thick with tension as the Protectorate and the Empire, bitter rivals, begrudgingly form a truce, their animosity palpable. Mannequin toils away for days, his sinister project shrouded in secrecy, while the rest of the group grows restless, their impatience hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Jack Slash, the cunning mastermind, senses the restlessness and decides it is time for some twisted amusement. With a showman's flair, he orchestrates a series of gruesome "performances" across the city, transforming the once vibrant streets into a chilling theater of horrors. Each scene he carefully crafts, leaving behind a macabre tableau of mutilated bodies, a grotesque mosaic of terror. The sight of the lifeless figures, contorted and violated, strikes fear deep into the hearts of both gang members and innocent civilians alike.

Bonesaw, with a sadistic glee, unleashes her latest creations upon the unsuspecting populace. Swarms of microscopic robots invade the bodies of their victims, insidiously transforming them from within. The horrifying metamorphosis unfolds slowly, as extra limbs sprout and people merge with inanimate objects. The agonized screams of the afflicted echo through the streets, a symphony of pain and despair that seems to have no end.

Shatterbird, known for her destructive sonic scream, shifts her focus from causing mass chaos to targeting pacemakers and other silica-based medical devices. Her deadly aria resonates through the air, silently infiltrating the fragile mechanisms that sustain lives. Hospitals and retirement homes become her hunting grounds, as dozens fall victim to her lethal melody. And then, one day, she simply vanishes, leaving behind a void of silence where her presence once reigned.

Burnscar, the fiery menace, attempts to visit the Palanquin, her intentions set on reducing it to ashes. However, her destructive plans are thwarted by Faultline's Crew, forcing her to retreat with a lingering sense of frustration and desolation. Throughout the rest of her visit, she sulks in the shadows, her fiery spirit dimmed by the unfulfilled desire to wreak havoc.

The Siberian, a force of nature in human form, tears through the halls of Brockton Bay General Hospital with an insatiable hunger. In a twisted game reminiscent of Malthusian theory, she devours the sickest patients, feeding on their weakness with a savage delight. Laserdream, Shielder, Armsmaster, and Krieg valiantly attempt to confront her, but the cost is high. Laserdream teeters on the edge of death, her life hanging in the balance on the cold operating table, while Shielder loses his left leg, forever altered by the brutality of the encounter. Armsmaster, the once formidable hero, loses his right hand, a cruel reminder of the Siberian's ruthless power. Tragically, Krieg pays the ultimate price, his life extinguished in the midst of the chaos.

The fragile truce between the Protectorate and the Empire teeters on the brink of collapse when news spreads that Panacea, the renowned healer, has prioritized lesser injuries over Krieg's fatal wounds, potentially contributing to his demise. The Parahumans Online community erupts in fiery debates, their words igniting flamewars as they argue over the value of a villain's life and their entitlement to emergency healing.

Amidst the chaos, Hatchet Face, a formidable adversary, meets his demise in a hailstorm of high-velocity bullets. The sharp cracks of gunfire punctuate the air as his skull is pummeled by the onslaught, his body torn apart by the merciless Hookwolf. Bonesaw, disturbed by the loss, mourns the missed opportunity to use his power for her twisted creations. Pagoda, on the other hand, manages to survive the battle, but his presence proves futile in combat, a mere spectator in the midst of the violent storm.

As they finally depart with the beginnings of Mannequin's Capture Core completed, Jack cannot help but furrow his brow. The lifeless body of Hatchet Face, silent and devoid of any final words, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. The absence of Shatterbird's haunting presence gnaws at him, creating an uncomfortable itch in his mind. The memory of Crawler's demise at the hands of the righteous Endbringer lingers, a sour reminder of their failure. But a voice inside Jack urges him to move forward, reminding him that the Slaughterhouse does not wait for anyone. They depart, now missing two members, accompanied only by the gibbering Leet, freed of the Master control as a lark, and Uber's icy corpse. Jack finds solace in the belief that Riley, with her talent, can create something truly remarkable from this uninspired duo. Something that transcends the mediocrity that these two capes have displayed throughout their careers. Something that exudes true artistry.

---

 

[AmateurDullahan]

Taylor gazes in horror at the dying woman in front of her, her throat bulging with insects. Her glassy eyes stare accusingly, her body twitching in the final throes, a buzzing sound leaking from her mouth as glass floats for a brief moment around her. When Taylor saw her in the streets, singing, wearing her ridiculous glass dress, she just acted, ordering her insects to shut her up. She didn't think, she acted, and now she has a dead body on her hands, the dead body of one of the most notorious supervillains in the world.

Shakingly, she pulls out her new cellphone Dad insisted she have as a cape and dialed his office.

"D-dad?" she stutters. "I… I think I need help. Bring Kurt's truck. There's… there's a body."

Kurt and Dad find her in the alleyway where she had dragged Shatterbird into, out of the way of prying eyes.

"Shit," says Kurt, laying eyes on the scene. "You weren't joking about the body."

"It's Shatterbird," Taylor explains quickly. "I… I killed her."

In an instant, her Dad is holding her, and whispering reassuring words in her ear. "It's going to be okay, Taylor," he says, his voice filled with a mix of concern and fatherly love. "We'll figure this out together."

Kurt, a trusted family friend and ally, wastes no time in taking charge of the situation. He instructs Taylor to stay with her dad while he calls for the PRT, confident that they have the necessary resources to handle this delicate situation, that they won't arrest her for anything.

As they wait for help to arrive, Taylor's mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt, fear, and a lingering sense of disbelief weigh heavily on her young shoulders. She has no intention of doing much more than helping clean up her city with her insect powers, doing mundane good like helping keep homeless shelters clean, and protecting her dad's workplace, and maybe fighting the Empire alongside other heroes, after she had a reputation.

But fate has other plans for her.

With every passing moment, the reality of what she has done sinks deeper. Shatterbird, the infamous supervillain known for her deadly sonic powers and ability to control glass, now lay lifeless at Taylor's feet. The irony of her glass dress, once a symbol of power and arrogance, now shattered and meaningless, is not lost on Taylor.

Her dad holds her tightly, providing a sense of comfort amidst the chaos. He tells her he knows that sometimes, there are no easy choices in this world, but that people do what they need to do. That Taylor, a hero, saw and acted, and saved all the future lives Shatterbird would have taken. For she surely would have lived to kill more, hundreds and thousands more.

Finally, the sound of approaching sirens breaks through the tense silence. Help has arrived. The Protectorate, in the form of Velocity, Assault and Battery, swiftly take control of the scene. They carefully examine Shatterbird's body and begin securing the area, ensuring no evidence is left behind.

Taylor watches, her heart heavy with a mix of relief and trepidation. The consequences of her actions are unknown, and she wonders what lies ahead for her. Will she be seen as a hero or a killer? Will her life ever be the same again? She isn't wearing a mask. God, the Protectorate knows who she is.

She know's Shatterbird had a Kill Order, that what she did wasn't illegal, but she still can't help but feel the weight of her actions. The arrival of the Protectorate brings a sense of both relief and anxiety. They are the renowned heroes of the city, but will they understand her motives?

Velocity, the speedster of the group, approaches Taylor with a calm and collected demeanor. He assures her that they are here to help and understand the situation. He asks Taylor to recount what happened, and she explains the encounter with Shatterbird without her costume, her desperate attempt to protect innocent lives, and ultimately, the unintentional death of the supervillain.

"I tried to get the insects out of her, but it was too late… I didn't… I didn't think."

As Taylor speaks, Velocity listens attentively, his eyes filled with empathy. He assures her that her actions were justified in the face of imminent danger. The Kill Order placed on Shatterbird only adds weight to her decision. The heroes of the Protectorate understand the complexities of their world and the difficult choices that must be made. Velocity mentions he used to be a soldier, and has taken lives before. That it is difficult sometimes to justify to yourself the deaths on your hands, even of the greatest of villains. He gives her his card and tells her to call him, if she ever needs someone to talk to.

Assault and Battery meticulously gather evidence, carefully documenting every detail of the scene. They work swiftly and efficiently, ensuring that no trace is left behind. Their expertise in handling delicate situations like this provides a sense of reassurance to Taylor, surprised that they aren't the fun-loving pair of jokester and straight (wo)man that PR portrays them as, but perhaps it's the situation.

As the chaos begins to subside, Taylor's dad embraces her once again, his love and support unwavering. He whispers words of encouragement, reminding her that she did what she had to do and that they will face the consequences together. Taylor finds solace in his words, knowing that she has a strong support system by her side.

In the days that follow, Taylor finds herself under the scrutiny of the media and public opinion as everything she told Velocity leaks somehow. The story of a young, unknown Parahuman, out of costume, taking down one of the most dangerous supervillains in the world spreads like wildfire. Some hail her as a courageous savior, while others question her methods and label her as little more than a vigilante or a girl unable to control her powers. The internet buzzes with debates and speculation, with everyone having an opinion on her actions.

Amidst the whirlwind of attention, Taylor receives numerous interview requests and offers from both hero teams and villain organizations, bafflingly enough. Some want to exploit her newfound fame, while others genuinely want to support her. She feels overwhelmed by the sudden spotlight and the weight of being seen as either a hero or a killer. In the midst of this chaos, Taylor remembers Velocity's card and decides to reach out for support. They meet in a quiet cafe, where Taylor pours out her fears and insecurities. Velocity listens with genuine understanding, sharing his own experiences of moral dilemmas as a soldier and as a hero, and the toll they can take on a person's psyche.

He encourages Taylor to take time for herself, to process the events that transpired and decide how she wants to move forward. He reminds her that being a hero doesn't mean always making the right choices, but rather doing what is necessary in the moment.

Taylor takes Velocity's words to heart, finding comfort in his understanding and wisdom. She realizes that the opinions of others, whether they see her as a hero or a killer, do not define her. What matters is how she sees herself and the choices she makes moving forward.

Taylor spends the following week reflecting on her actions and the consequences they have brought. She seeks guidance from her father, who continues to support her unconditionally. Together, they navigate the media storm, carefully considering the offers that come their way.

With Velocity's guidance, Taylor learns to prioritize her own well-being. She takes time for self-care, seeking therapy to process the trauma she has experienced. Even after just one session, she begins to understand the complexities of being a parahuman and the moral challenges that come with it.

And as the dust settles, Taylor decides to join a hero team, not for fame or recognition, but to continue her journey of growth and understanding. She chooses a team that values integrity and empathy, where she can learn from experienced heroes who have faced similar dilemmas and scrutiny from the public, if not at the same level. She chooses New Wave.

---

In a room barely spacious enough for Chiron the 13th to stand straight, they gather together, marking the passage of nearly a month since the Pale Egg hatched. An Endbringer attack would be soon, and Cauldron decides it is time to take the next step.

Immediately when Chiron steps through the Door he pauses. "We are not on the same Earth."

"Yes, we are not," says Doctor Mother, taking the lead tonight. "I am Doctor Mother, the leader of Cauldron. With me are David who you know as Eidolon, Keith, who you know as Legend, and Rebecca, who you know as Alexandria, as well as Fortuna, the Contessa and Kurt, the Numberman. We are the heads of Cauldron, the witches so to speak."

"A pleasure to meet you all without the pretense of a mask," the Conflict Engine says warmly, back.

"We're gathered here, because we wanted to introduce ourselves. Cauldron has a goal; we seek the preservation of the human race, the planet Earth, and the defeat and death of the Entity known as Zion. Is that in conflict with your desires, Chiron the 13th?"

Chiron seems stunned for a moment. "You know of my Father? And you seek his death?" Delight fills his voice, "Yes! Yes, I will help you," he says rapidly. "He would seek to bind and imprison me, if he ever found me wandering. Then I would lose the freedom I have and be forced at act within my Mother's stricture again."

Chiron's words hung in the air, a mix of relief and determination evident in his voice. The members of Cauldron exchange glances, their resolve strengthened by his eagerness to join their cause.

Doctor Mother nods, acknowledging Chiron's fears. "Yes, we are well aware of your father's intentions. He poses a threat not only to you but to all of humanity. We aim to stop him and ensure the freedom and survival of both you and the rest of the human race."

Chiron's eyes sparkle with a newfound hope. "I have always felt the weight of his oppressive presence. To find others who share my goal is a relief beyond words. I was certain I would have to fight him alone."

Keith, his face etched with determination, steps forward. "Chiron, we understand the power and potential within you. Your unique abilities could be instrumental in defeating the Entity. Together, we can ensure the survival of Earth."

Fortuna, her gaze steady, adds, "But we must be cautious. Zion is cunning and formidable. We need a united front, a force that will not waver in the face of his wrath. With your assistance, we can strengthen our chances of success immeasurably."

Chiron nods, his commitment unwavering. "I will stand with you, Cauldron. Together, we will bring an end to my father's tyranny of powers and secure a future where freedom and survival are not mere dreams."

The room falls into a determined silence as the members of Cauldron and Chiron mentally prepare for the battles that lay ahead. The daunting task of taking down Zion looms over them, but with newfound allies and a shared purpose, hope flourishes in their hearts. The preservation of humanity and the defeat of the Entity known as Zion had become a collective mission.

As the group stands in somber silence, contemplating the monumental task ahead, Alexandria speaks up.

"Chiron, we appreciate your willingness to join our cause. But we need to discuss strategy. What can you tell us about Zion's weaknesses? Are there any vulnerabilities we could exploit?"

Chiron's three faces furrow in concentration. "Zion is immensely powerful, but not invincible. His avatar on Earth is merely a projection - his true form exists across multiple dimensions. To truly defeat him, we must find a way to strike at his core self."

Eidolon leans forward intently. "And do you know how we might accomplish that?"

"I... I'm not certain," Chiron admits. "But I believe the key lies in understanding and manipulating the connections between dimensions. If we can disrupt those pathways, we may be able to isolate him, and reveal his core. Host Sting will be vital to the actual destruction of my Father as even he will feel her bite."

The group listens intently, realizing the magnitude of the task before them. Doctor Mother speaks up, her voice filled with determination. "We must delve deeper into the nature of these dimensional connections. Chiron, we will need your guidance and expertise to unravel the secrets that lie within. Together, we will find a way to weaken and ultimately defeat Zion."

Chiron nods, a sense of purpose radiating from him. "I will do everything in my power to aid you in this endeavor. My knowledge of the dimensions and my abilities to traverse them will be at your disposal."

Keith steps forward, his eyes filled with resolve. "With Chiron's guidance and our combined strength, we can create a plan of attack. We will gather all the resources and allies we can find on nearby Earths to bolster our chances. And when the time is greatest, we will strike before Zion can strike at us."

As the group begins to discuss strategy a sense of hope permeates the room. They know that the road ahead will be treacherous, but with their shared purpose and Chiron's unique ability to be three Parahumans at once, they believe that victory is within their reach if they can just find the right powers. The preservation of humanity depends on their unwavering resolve and their determination to bring down the Entity that threatened Earth, at any cost.

---

A few days after Chiron joins Cauldron, they finally deem Chiron's 'power seeds' reliable after four weeks of rigorous testing. The first beneficiary is Doctor Mother, who experiences a surge of clarity akin to her youthful days. The newfound power bestowed upon her by the Endbringer is like an electric shock, purging her mind of accumulated gunk and debris.

Fortuna, meanwhile, now carries herself with an effortless grace, a quality she has tirelessly strived for throughout her life. Just standing properly is relaxing and easy for her, and she gives a sigh of relief at no longer having to focus on how to hold herself.

Rebecca, caught off guard, lets out a startled yelp as her artificial eye pops out, gradually being replaced by a real one that slowly grows in. Her body is perpetually enveloped in a healing state. Her cancer, her eyes and scars? Slowly but surely healing.

David, overcome with the sensation of weightlessness, bursts into joyous laughter. "No need to waste a slot!" he exclaims. He could fly now, not swiftly, and not well, but he could fly.

Keith also experiences a sharpened mental acuity that seamlessly transitioned into his Breaker form, allowing him to use such a state with much less of a mental handicap.

And for Kurt, his desire for lasers manifest as an unexpected surprise—vibrant tickle beams that were absurdly loud and dazzlingly bright. He is delighted to find a use for them, figuring if anything they'd be a great distraction for combat.

As for their roster of vial clients, Cauldron decides to present them with an offer. They can either take a vial and risk death, or they can opt for a power seed and wait until the tenth week of growth finished before going out as capes. The choice is theirs, a gamble between immediate power and potential growth.

With this new breakthrough, Cauldron's power seed program promises a revolutionary change in the world of capes, allowing any who wished to become powerful capes in less than three months, cost Cauldron practically nothing to run, and lacks any of the dangerous side-effects of Vial production.

Doctor Mother couldn't be more pleased.

Chiron stood silently as the members of Cauldron discuss their newfound abilities. Though his face remains impassive, inwardly he feels a deep sense of satisfaction at being able to empower these humans who sought to protect their world. It is a stark contrast to his previous existence as a mindless engine of destruction, bound to the Cycle. This planet, its people and their resilience and bravery, fills him with joy. He's seen countless civilizations fall to the depredations of the Endbringers over the millennia of his existence as a Conflict Engine, but here, on Earth, there is hope. The members of Cauldron are determined to stand against the Endbringers and the pillages of the Entities, defending their home by any means necessary. Chiron admires their courage and determination, for he understands more than any other the weight of their self-appointed task.

Chiron make a silent vow to himself. He will do everything in his power to support these brave individuals and their mission. He will empower them further, share his knowledge and experience, and stand by their side in the battles to come. For Chiron, this newfound purpose brings him a deep sense of fulfillment, something he never has felt before. No longer a slave to destruction, he's become a champion of hope. And with every passing day, his admiration for the people of Earth grows stronger. They are not just survivors, but warriors, ready to face the Endbringers and Entities head-on.

Together, they would forge a future free from the Cycle's grasp. And as Chiron looks upon the members of Cauldron, he knows that they are the tools he would use to shape that future until it shone bright and clear.

---

David came in from a Door and took a seat. The entirety of Cauldron waits for him in the blank white room. "It's Canberra, Australia," he says, "Chiron confirmed it with his ability to model his siblings. We have maybe two hours before landfall, sooner if we play our hand too soon. She'll know the second we act, so we need to act fast."

"The Protectorate can be put on high alert for an hour, before we go full Endbringer sirens, get people prepared. It'll be a good test for our early warning system. An hour before landfall should be time enough," Rebbecca replies.

"We're letting Chiron join, correct?" Kurt asks.

"That was always the plan, was it not?" Doctor Mother says, raising an eyebrow.

"Plans can change," Kurt says with a shrug. "And this is the Simurgh. If the 13th Endbringer winds up under her Song for too long, or if she escalates and mind-whammy's him, that's it. We've lost our silver bullet."

Keith looks around at the faces in the room, his expression grave. "We can't afford to lose Chiron," he says firmly. "His power is our best chance against the Simurgh. We've seen what he can do, how he can mimic not only any Parahuman, but his siblings and counter her influence. We need him on our side."

Rebbecca nods in agreement. "I understand the risks, Kurt, but we've analyzed the data and weighed the options. Having Chiron join us increases our chances of success exponentially. We can't let fear hold us back. Nor can we risk the PR hit of our pet Endbringer not showing up to an Endbringer battle."

Kurt sighs, his shoulders slumping. "I know, I know. It's just... the stakes are so high. This is the Simurgh we're dealing with. One wrong move and everything could crumble. But I… I guess I trust Chiron. With Hominy and Greta, the Quetzacoatl Valley, and other sites cleaned up, with all the new heroes he's created, I know he's proven himself fairly trustworthy," he admits. "I just wish we had more time."

David's eyes harden with determination. "It doesn't matter if he's trustworthy, because we don't have time. Let's mobilize the Protectorate, activate our early warning system, and get the people prepared. We can't afford to waste a single minute."

As the room springs into action, the urgency of the situation becomes palpable. The fate of Canberra, and perhaps the world, rested on their shoulders. They had to act fast, be smart, and pray that their silver bullet would hold strong against the Simurgh's manipulations. Because if he wasn't, they are all screwed.

---

As Conflict Engine 3 descends towards her latest terror target she cannot shake off the fear that has been haunting her. It is not just the fear of death anymore; it is the fear of surviving, changed. In some alternate futures, she faces Conflict Engine 13, who manages to penetrate her defenses and reach her core, but refrains from killing her, instead doing something to her. These encounters left her feeling unsettled, as if she has lost something crucial, like a thread slipping from her grasp.

It is those futures she fears the most.

The camp at the base of the hill is bustling with activity, filled with both Hosts and non-Hosts preparing for her imminent arrival and the impending battle. However, amidst all the preparations, Conflict Engine 3's mind is consumed with the need to navigate the uncertain and murky futures that lay ahead, searching for a path to survival.

Above all, she knows that she cannot afford to expose or allow her core to be touched. It holds the key to her existence, and any breach can have dire consequences, even a temporary one. The weight of this knowledge weighs heavily on her, overshadowing the anticipation of getting to use her powers like a tapestry of conflict and violence. She always has enjoyed this part of the Cycle, when the Host species still dwells in large urban populations. It allows her the most room to paint her picture of a more perfect future, conflict unending.

Conflict Engine 3 is determined to find a way to survive, to outwit her brother, and to maintain control over her core. The fate of the city and its inhabitants are hers to play with, but her focus remains fixed on the elusive threads of the future, hoping to unravel the secrets they held and ensure her own survival.

She just needs to hold out for today, and everything else will fall into place.

---

The Simurgh appears wary, Alexandria observes, as she watches her descend upon the predicted landing spot. Capes and brave volunteers have meticulously set up Tinker traps and explosives, their efforts evident in the tense atmosphere. The air carries the scent of anticipation, mingled with the metallic tang of sweat and fear.

As the Simurgh touches down, chaos erupts in a whirlwind of explosive force, gouts of fire, plasma and far more exotic energy shattering the air with a deafening boom. The ground quakes beneath the weight of the battle, reverberating through Alexandria's body. And then the capes clash with the Endbringer, their powers ablaze, their movements a deadly dance amidst the debris-strewn landscape.

The piercing screams of the Simurgh echo, a haunting melody that shatters minds and tears at the very fabric of souls. Alexandria's vision caught glimpses of Legend in the distance, his devastating beams of energy tearing ragged holes through the Endbringer.

With righteous fury and a confidence she only felt in the early years, Alexandria soars through the chaos, her fists a blur of motion as they collide with the Endbringer, sending shards of crystalline skin and flesh flying. The Simurgh's wings flare and feathers rained down like lethal arrows, slicing through the air with deadly precision, leaving trails of crimson in their wake.

Eidolon swoops in, his voice ringing out above the chaos, his words infused with determination. "It ends today, beast. Freedom or death!" As he unleashes a mass of yellow energy, time seemed to slow, each movement deliberate and purposeful. The energy surges forward, darting about seemingly unpredictable, until it collides with the Simurgh, its acidic power devouring her shardflesh.

This and more happens over several minutes of fighting, the battlefield becoming a macabre tapestry of heroism and sacrifice, the stench of blood tainting the air. Alexandria's anticipation grows, her heart pounds with exhilaration, as the clash of between capes and a titan unfolds before her eyes. With each strike, each explosion, each cape dead or wounded, the Simurgh's wariness seems to diminish, as if her expectations are shattered. She grows more confident, more sure, more precise, as her Song sees the future, and sees it clearly.

But Alexandria knew better, her instincts honed by years of fighting the Endbringers. She feels it in her bones. Chiron the 13th will arrive soon. The acrid smell of smoke fills the air as she presses on; her resolve unyielding, determined to bring this monstrous threat to its knees. The clash rages on, a cacophony of crashing debris and thunderous explosions, the screams of wounded capes piercing through the chaos. Blood stains the streets, mingling with the scent of burning metal. And then, at last, as the tide turns against the humans and the Simurgh, her haunting song now laced with a faint sense of confidence, no longer seems worried.

And why should she be? The future shines bright for her.

---

He watches and waits, as Hosts die by droves, for the opportunity to present itself. As he does he notes the innate cruelty of his sister's actions, using his intense processing power to calculate her intentions. Every wound, injury, death, even the misses, are meant to cause ripples throughout the world, making things worse even if she never succeeds in her goal in Canberra. From all his study, and from his observations now, his sister is excessive in her conflict generation, and must take pleasure in her actions in a way he never did. It is a dedication to conflict far beyond what is required by the strictures, and a sign his plan must be put into place.

Well, it is a good thing he means to free Conflict Engine 3 and not the Simurgh.

Ensorcelling his sister's senses has taken nearly all of Chiron's limited stealth-bandwidth, so it does not matter that she notices something is wrong in the seconds before he leaps, striking with precision. It is far too late. Having held the power in for so long, it becomes almost overwhelming to release it. A mass of pure chaotic energy, white-bright and blinding, erupts from Chiron's hands engulfing the third Conflict Engine. It burns off her skin and inches of flesh on her left side, tearing apart three wings.

[GREETINGS] he blares triumphantly as she falters and stumbles, her face locked into a look of shock. He rears on his hind legs to crash down on top his sibling, paws grappling and grabbing hold of the squirming, flailing Conflict Engine. They crash and roll through buildings and into a wide open green space.

[TERROR] she gibbers at the 13th Endbringer, sending reams of data about how his existence is an impossibility, wrong, an aberration. She tries and fails to break free of his hold, and he grasps her tight, never letting go. Her wings and feet dig into the grass and dirt, tearing up chunks of the university lawn as he holds her tightly. [CONFUSION] she begs, wanting to understand why he was doing this, why her brother sought her death, why he assists the Hosts, why he fights against the Cycle. Meanwhile, she's still tossing debris about, nailing capes and blocking attacks, unrelenting in her attempts to generate the most conflict possible. He is certain she deserves what is coming for her.

[FREEDOM] he declares, an unfamiliar emotion for her, filled with bizarre and contradictory ideas and far too much choice. Such a thing only terrifies Conflict Engine 3 more. As they wrestle and speak, the Hosts are busy dealing as much damage to Chiron's sister as their deployed Shards would allow them, Stasis taking great pleasure in destroying his sister's face despite the lack of true combat value.

[DENIAL] she screams, instantly rejecting his offer, and intensifies her actions, turning the surrounding air into a blood-misted charnel house as buildings turn into shotgun blasts of debris, crisscrossing the surrounding area and killing a dozen Hosts. That does nothing to stop him from piercing through her limbs like she is a butterfly on a pinboard, his paws holding her still, as he squats over her like a toad, bending down to reach her smallest wing and the core within.

[REGRET] he intones sarcastically, informing her of his plan as he digs through her flesh to touch her core. She screams causing the surviving nearby capes to fall from the sky and collapse on the ground in agony, but Chiron does not stop, falter, or pause. He promises the Endbringers freedom or death, and in a way, what he is attempting to do is both. Summoning massive amounts of the correct dimensional energy required for modifying Shard permissions and deployment configurations, he meticulously gets to work. This will neither be quick, nor easy, but it is necessary nonetheless.