4.3
There was something distinctly odd about my powers. I wasn't sure it was even the fact that I had five different ones, six if you counted whatever I was supposed to have done to Noelle, but it was the fact that I had next to no learning curve on them. As I used them against a storehouse of the Empire's, cycling through nearly all of my powers, I mulled over this.
Even the one I had been actively aware of the least amount of time, the telepathy, I was using with a disturbing amount of precision. Like it was just remembering things I had forgotten. And I knew this was
wrong. I'd talked to Vicky enough. Powers didn't work like that. Maybe a few did, innate ones like what Aegis had, maybe, but not active abilities. A parahuman didn't wake up and immediately have mastery. It took them time. They had, at best, enough understanding not to hurt themselves at first. The rest they had to learn. They certainly didn't develop what felt like a lifetime's worth of mastery in just days.
A lifetime's? I frowned at my choice of wording for that thought as I drove a pair of Empire thugs away with illusions of their worst fears. Why had I used that to describe it? I'd had these powers barely six months. Not a lifetime, or even close to one. But I couldn't let go of the thought. It meant something, I was sure.
I wrenched a pair of guns out of the hands of a particularly stupid member of this bunch tried to attack me. In fact… every gun I could grab with my powers floated into the air, under my direction. The few gang members who had not fled froze, their fear ratcheting up a notch without any pressure from my powers. Doing something like this never failed to cow any resistance.
A wince followed that thought and I drew in a slow breath, then crumpled every single gun into scrap and let them drop to the ground. Oddities like that. Holding the guns at the people I was fighting with my powers. Like I had done that… no, I had seen that done before? But when? I couldn't place exactly, though the sense of deja vu was almost overpowering.
I thought about that, drawing on other moments of similar oddities, while I looked at the gangsters. "I don't suppose one of you is going to be cooperative and tell me where I might find Kaiser or the other capes that work for him?"
Profanities were the only response I received, drawing a sigh from my throat and I put them all to sleep. None of them had known anything useful. They got orders via phone and had only seen Kaiser at a distance a few times during a rally.
This had been a waste of time, I decided, looking around in case I had missed anyone that hadn't fled. A piece of wood was kicked aside with my foot and I started toward the exit, thinking about my powers again. There was something… Lifetimes? What had that thought meant? And why had the stunt with the guns felt so familiar? Something I had done? Seen?
I thought of Vicky and frowned. There was… something there, something that she had to do with this? Clothes? When we first met? What was… I blinked as I remembered. I'd had to put back an entire set of clothes because they were sized for someone else.
What did it mean? I stopped outside the building, trying to remember if there were any other moments like that. I hadn't even thought about it as something odd, but now, I couldn't figure out why I had overlooked it. After a long moment, I sighed and lifted off from the ground. Whatever this was, I needed to look into it and I wasn't going to get anything else done while it bothered me.
Still, there was more that I could do tonight, if I ignored this. I bit my lip as I considered my options, sparing a glimpse towards the pile of disabled thugs. I could clear out a few more groups, and give the police something to do. After a moment, I shook my head. No. I was done for tonight. Time to go, maybe try and figure out whether I was imagining things or there really was something wrong.
Decision made, I climbed higher, then raced away toward my temporary home.
~~~~~~~~
"What I would like to know is why you allowed that to be printed," Glenn said, his tone reasonable even if the statement was really a demand.
"And for the last time, I don't answer to you, Mr. Chambers," the editor of the Brockton Bay Journal replied. "What gets published in my paper isn't influenced by the group of jackbooted thugs you work for. I felt Ms. Konita had valid points and the Journal doesn't require the mandate of the PRT. Good day."
"Impossible," Glenn muttered, setting the phone aside as his eyes fell on the newspaper article that was the root of recent troubles. After a moment, he looked to the computer monitors arrayed before him, each filled with windows showing him the ebb and flow of recent media attention.
"At least she's getting positive attention?" He asked aloud. Her rather showy display against the Empire before the fighting broke out in earnest, followed by her current crusade against them had made her a popular discussion point locally.
And nationally, he thought with a grimace. The article hadn't been confined to Brockton Bay exclusively. A few minor changes, to accommodate the fact that audiences elsewhere weren't familiar with Brockton Bay's particular stew of chaos and there was a great deal more attention on Sirin than he cared for.
At least the fact that she's an out of control Ward isn't public knowledge. Glenn was grateful for that, even as he admired the finesse behind the article. A few hundred printed words had produced a steadily growing shitstorm. Though, he had to admit, the article's impact wouldn't have been nearly as great if hadn't been followed by the girl's actions.
Actions that were bearing fruit and seeming to reinforce the message behind the article. It was hard to argue its point when the Empire's recent attempts to expand on recently opened territory were being checked by the precision tactics of a fifteen year old girl. Grimacing, he clicked through several screens, stopping at one that showed comments from people in the Bay.
There were outliers, people speaking out in opposition, questioning why she hadn't been seen during the gangs fighting, but the majority were in support. Even if it wasn't one hundred percent certain that it was her, as the recent attacks on the Empire had been from someone sporting a downgraded costume. Glenn had no doubts though; a conversation with Armsmaster had yielded some insight into that situation. Her loss of costume was unsurprising. What was surprising though was that rumors were circulating amid the public.
Someone had connected her to the incident that led to the complete collapse of Coil's power base. They didn't have the full story, but it had only enhanced her reputation. Sighing, Glenn looked over the reports, disliking the developing trends and the impact they were having on his plans. Piggot had ceded the situation to him, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that something needed to be done soon. Public interest on Sirin was inevitably going to lead to people digging and the fact that she was registered as a Ward would come up.
That would make this an even worse mess and if there was one thing Glenn had learned, it was the things you didn't want publicly known always became so at the worst possible moment.
~~~~~~~~
Rain danced across the windows, tracing elaborate patterns that vanished as quickly as they appeared. I watched them, entranced, occasionally spotting the people rushing by, huddled in raincoats or beneath umbrellas, aiming to get out from the deluge as quickly as possible. The inside of the Chicago-style pizzeria where I sat was empty except for myself and two men sitting a few tables away. I looked in their direction for a moment, noting the older of the two seemed entirely at ease while his younger companion was extremely uncomfortable, almost screaming in terror inside his thoughts.
Whatever they were talking about was kept to low voices and I couldn't get any sense of malice from the older man, who was English, if I had placed his accent correct. And wealthy, the cane leaning against his table was capped with ornate silver. When whatever was bothering the younger man seemed to settle into just plain worry, I stopped paying attention to them, looking around the rest of the restaurant. For whatever reason, none of the people outside were choosing to come in. Maybe it was the dim, almost smoky, interior. Or maybe it was something else.
I looked back toward the window, staring out into the rain as I thought of the last few days. I had hit the Empire several times over, but I wasn't any closer to actually learning if Cricket had told anyone or if my identity as Sirin was truly compromised. I had snuck in to where Cricket was being treated, but there hadn't been anything mentally that I could find out from her comatose state. Baiting Kaiser also hadn't turned up any results and I was now at a loss for what to do next.
Or if what I've been doing is right. I grimaced at the the thought, hearing the faintest echo of that Empire member's mental screams accompanying it. My hands tightened around the mug of tea and I glanced away from the window, my eyes landing on the half-eaten pizza I had ordered.
Since I'd left home, I'd done my best not to second-guess myself, as it was all too easy to get caught up with might-have-beens, especially with my powers. Since the other night, though, I had been doing just that, finding myself dwelling on my actions whenever I wasn't assaulting the Empire's storehouses or gatherings.
This had started out as a lot more fun at first. I had powers, I could fight back against Emma and Sophia and I was able to go out, to be a hero. Somewhere, it ceased to be fun. Maybe when everything blew up in my face? I scowled, wishing, not for the first time, that I had never laid eyes on the blonde twit. Oh, I wasn't sure that she had, in fact, set me up, but it made me feel better to blame her.
The fact was, I kind of felt like she was bad luck. No sooner than she stuck her head in and started talking, things had gone downhill. Now, the comfortable place I'd stayed at was reduced to a single room at a shelter and my resources were next to nothing. Rebuilding to where I was before Coil had attacked me was a prospect that was both daunting and irritating.
I sighed, poking halfheartedly at the pizza with my fork. There was just so much to do and I wasn't keen on using the same tactics again. Coil had gotten on my trail because of the tickets and using it as my main source of funds again had me wary because the result. The last thing I needed was to have someone else track me down for my powers.
What was I supposed to do? I wasn't sure of my goals anymore and the path before me now was a confusing one, lacking the simplicity of before. Establish myself as a hero, help people. It had all gotten so fucked up.
"I knew I would find you here," the familiar voice, accompanied by a presence I knew quite well drew my attention away from the increasingly depressing turn of my thoughts. Vicky stood in the doorway, looking for once, as something other than meticulously perfect in appearance. Her hair was plastered against her scalp and most of her clothing was more than a bit damp.
"Are you alright?" I asked, honestly alarmed at her condition. She was so careful with how she looked that to see her this bedraggled and with a haunted look on her face had me worried. "Have… have you been crying?"
"No," she said quickly before her expression crumpled and I found myself with her in my arms, bawling uncontrollably against my shoulder as I felt surge of sadness and despair rushed outward.
I wonder if this is how her aura feels like? I sighed internally at the thought, carefully tuning out the flood of emotion while gently, if awkwardly, sending comfort toward her in hopes that it would settle her nerves.
A few minutes later, looking marginally more composed, Vicky sat opposite me, devouring some of the pizza I hadn't touched yet.
"So, why are you flying around in the rain like this?" I asked, noting the way she flinched when the question left my lips.
It was several minutes before she framed a reply. "I had a fight with Dean."
I didn't hide my frown as I looked at her. "And that had you flying about in this mess looking for me? Being invincible won't help if you develop pneumonia, you know."
"I wanted to talk to you," she said quietly. I touched her surface thoughts and feelings briefly, trying to get a better idea of why an argument with Dean, of all things, had her so upset.
"What's bothering you about this fight with Dean?" I finally asked as my skimming didn't yield anything of substance. The distraction of this was welcoming, but I was a bit confused on how I qualified to offer relationship advice. I could listen, at least, but I wasn't sure what else she expected from me.
"Dean's a great guy, but sometimes, he can be a bit of a jerk," Vicky began. "He can get so obsessed with being the knight in shining armor type that I want to strangle him. I mean, if it was just sweeping me off my feet, sure, but he tends to get rather preachy at times. There's only so much holier-than-thou I can take, y'know?"
I nodded, not quite sure where she was going with this. "I can see that."
"So, he was going on about you, I mean, about Sirin," Vicky went on. "Getting judgemental about what you've done recently. I.. kind of snapped at him in your defense and then we were screaming at each other, saying awful things before I finally stormed out."
Her words rolled around in my mind, drawing another frown as I tried to piece together what bothered me about them. Vicky sighed and poked at her current slice of pizza with a fork, in mirror of what I had done earlier. "We've argued before, even broken up, but never like this, never this bad."
"You've smoothed things out before, right?" I asked, nudging her foot with one of my own to get her attention. "It'll work out here too, I'm sure."
My words of reassurance did not appear to have the effect I had hoped for as Vicky's scowl returned. "Don't say that! Don't be understanding! You don't know what he said!"
I held my hands up. "Sorry. You're right, I don't. Was just trying to cheer you up, things will get better and all that."
Vicky didn't reply to that, staring at the window and the rain decorating it for a long time. "Sorry, I shouldn't snap at you. It isn't your fault that Dean's such a prick."
"I'm guessing that you came to find me for something other than ranting about Dean?"
"You can see the future, right?"
"Not that well, apparently," I muttered to myself. "Yeah, precog's one of my powers."
"Can you see if this works out? If we fix it this time. Maybe...if we can actually make it last?"
I blinked. trying to trace the path of her logic. "Make it last? What, are you planning to run to Vegas?"
"What? No! Well, I mean, in the future, maybe?"
I sighed, realizing what she wanted. "If only it were that easy."
Vicky looked at me and frowned. "What d'you mean?"
"It isn't like just looking ahead and seeing what will happen," I told her. "Well, it is for the short term, like the next twenty minutes or so. For that, I can be pretty accurate, but the further away, the less precise it is."
"Only twenty minutes?" Vicky asked, her shoulders slumping. "That doesn't help."
I waved a hand. "It was just an example, but there's a lot of variables that determine how long." I looked around to be sure the two men were still having their discussion and raised an eyebrow as the older man was holding a ring out to the younger. Whatever, nothing to do with me. Once certain that no one was paying attention to our table, I nudged the dispenser for the toothpicks sitting on the table with my powers.
The toothpicks settled into a neat pile by my hand. I took one and sat it on the table before me. "It's hard to explain. I can look farther. It's been getting easier and easier to push it another few minutes at a time. But when I try to look too far, things start to fall apart.."
Vicky didn't say anything as I laid more toothpicks down, tilted at angles from the first one and kept setting more of them down. "The thing is, no one exists in a vacuum and the further ahead I look, the more choices are available, and the chance that all those other choices happen becomes bigger. While I can try to map out what is most likely, until it happens any particular event is just possibility. I can even lay out scenarios, like with my dad, for example, but I don't have the ability or, frankly, the patience, to sit and view all the possibilities."
"I see…" Vicky stared at the toothpicks and the way it spread out from one point, branching off until I ran out of room and stopped.
"Not to mention, it takes time to do that." I added, lifting a slice of pizza out to my plate. "If I got that caught up in looking at the future, I'd never get anything done today, I'd only have time for that."
Which was what Coil had wanted me for. The reminder of my earlier thoughts made me frown for a moment.
"No, I guess not," Vicky agreed after a moment, looking anywhere but at me. "God, I must sound so stupid. Coming to you and going 'Can you tell me if I'll get back together with my boyfriend?' Like some stupid girl in a book who runs to the local fortuneteller and gets in trouble."
"The ones you don't tell your sister about?" I asked with a half-grin, hoping the light-hearted question would cheer her up. "Afraid they're too hardcore for her?"
"Are you kidding? Amy reads worse." Vicky's expression brightened a bit. "The hospital nurses got her hooked on those trashy romance novels to start with, but her tastes get weird sometimes."
"I remember you mentioning that," I said, shaking my head. "And that one you made me read! I kept expecting the lady who runs the shelter to come in to clean and catch me reading it! How do they even get away with printing this stuff?"
Vicky looked at me and smirked. "Liked it, huh?"
My face burned. "You're awful." Her smirk only widened and she scooped out another slice of the pizza as the rain continued outside and the conversation turned to other topics.
~~~~~~~~
It was days like today, Armsmaster observed, that made him glad for one of his inventions over any of the others. The Rain Repellent Spray was incredibly useful in allowing him to work in rainy conditions like this. There was something to be said for the atmosphere created by such weather, but when he was following up on work that required time spent either outdoors or in buildings exposed to the weather, it was invaluable.
I will never again let any of the Wards know about it. The thought made him shake his head at how it distracted him. Clockblocker had inquired about whether he had a variant that repelled sharks more than once.
The interior of the building he was in now drew his attention again, following up on a request from the Mayor's office to investigate an old fire station. They believed it had been the site of some sort of parahuman fight. Ordinarily, he'd have dispatched a PRT squad to look into this, but something had made him decide to look into this personally.
"The firehouse at Eight-Ninety Fifth Avenue has been abandoned of any occupants for roughly two weeks, judging from the damage and how exposed it has been," he said aloud, his suit's audio systems recording while he carefully navigated the damaged floor. He scanned the area with a wary eye, not overlooking a single detail. "The majority of the damage to the interior was done by explosive devices, flashbangs, smoke and noise bombs. An attack, I think, aimed to disorient a thinker that has to be taken down quickly to have any chance."
He frowned and looked around the shattered space. "The tactic is similar to one the PRT uses against Thinkers when containment foam isn't immediately viable. There aren't any independent agencies operating within Brockton Bay that use such tactics. The only mercenary group that would have done so was Coil's. Faultline's group is, other than some of the guards at her club, a parahuman force. Neither the Empire or the ABB's non-powered members have the training to execute something like this."
"The damage to the floor is too extensive to have been done by whoever set the explosive devices," he said, skirting around the edge of the hole in the floor. "Likely the work of someone with a brute rating."
"Whoever was staying here has not returned since this occurred, I would estimate," he murmured. "An exact timeframe is hard if not impossible to determine due to the internal damage to the building. In truth, there appears to be little reason for someone to have come back. While the fires caused by the explosive devices were apparently largely extinguished before they could spread too far, enough damage was done to ruin any of…"
He trailed off, halting the recording with an absent murmur before making his way to a battered dresser. The first drawer's contents prompted him to frown and he quickly opened the others to see if they contained similar.
"A dresser apparently survived the assault intact," he remarked into its recording. "The contents are a young woman's clothing, possibly that of a teenage girl, judging from a cursory glance. Why they are left behind is a puzzle, but perhaps…" Frowning, he reluctantly shifted some of the clothing to one side, drawing out a leather bound journal that he recognized.
"Dresser was used as a hiding receptacle for a journal," he commented. "It is one I have seen before. Despite the exposure of the building's interior to the weather, being sheltered within the dresser has permitted it to remain mostly intact. I last saw this in the possession of Taylor Hebert. Conclusion: Prior to her disappearance and presumed captivity, she was living out of this firehouse."
Thumbing carefully through the pages at the drawings, he nodded and tucked it into a compartment on his suit. A push of a button on his belt brought a drone from his motorcycle as he made a decision. The unit was capable of following simple tasks and what he needed of it now would be within its parameters.
A compartment on his belt produced a storage container that unfolded efficiently. "Relocate the contents of this dresser into that container." If Assault and Battery could make contact with her, they could at least see about returning her clothing to her. If nothing else, it might at least build some good will from her toward them.
While it worked, he continued his examination of the area, noting the pile of what he thought was raw fabric, now scorched and burned beyond repair. The foundation for a new costume, perhaps?
There was little else to be seen. Scorched pieces of carbon that might have once been sheets of paper, a similar notebook to the first, though the pages were water damaged and it was quite ruined. He put it in with the other anyway and rose slowly, heading further in as his foot collided with something.
The battered object slid away from the impact as he glanced down, identifying it as one of the personal security boxes sold by stores to protect valuables from fires. In this case, he thought ruefully, it had been wholly inadequate. A simple nudge with one hand flipped the lid over, revealing ashes and the scraps of what had once been money.
"The picture painted by what I've gleaned about her disappearance so far is not a happy one," Armsmaster said aloud, his recording system starting again in response to his voice. "Without definite testimony from her, though, it's all conjecture on my part, but I'm honestly surprised that her recent bouts of lashing out have been as restrained as they are."
He nudged open a door with his halberd, lights from his helmet illuminating the small bathroom. It was utilitarian, a sink, a toilet and a tub with a shower attachment. Nothing of consequence beyond a few toiletries that he paid little attention to as the lights settled on something in the tub.
"Correction, my previous conclusion is now fact," he said, staring at the costume lying in the tub, the symbol on the chest faded, but still distinct. The cracked and peeled golden bird spread its wings almost defiantly despite its condition. "The bathroom contains the remains of part of her costume as Sirin."
He dispatched another drone to gather the remains of the suit up before starting toward the outside. The rain had finally stopped and he drew the journal out, idly flipping through its pages as he walked. It was, as he had suspected, the same notebook she had been drawing in that day at the school. The drawing he had half-glimpsed then stared back at him now and he frowned at it, comparing his memory of the sketch he had done in recreation against the original.
Most of the drawings appeared to be of costumes, some of which made him frown at how ineffective they were at offering any sort of protection. They were the type worn by either the very stupid or very powerful. Sometimes both, but even so, the majority were so impractical that he wasn't surprised over what had been Hebert's ultimate choice. He paused to look at a pair of costumes, different only for the primary color choice, one green, one red.
Armsmaster examined every detail of those, wondering what the difference in color entailed. Representative of a mindset change? Something else? After a moment, he continued flipping through the pages as the drones brought down the container that her clothes had been packed into. A cover opened at the back of his motorcycle and it was deposited, sliding into a spatially folded compartment that could contain more than it appeared to.
The last few pages were a mess of assorted images with no rhyme or reason connecting them. A visor, covering the eyes of barely visible lineart for someone's face. Pieces of other costumes? There didn't seem to be any unifying elements to any of them. A few were even more out of place; an outline of a man's suit, ruffled at the neck. Nineteenth Century, if he was correct. A woman's outfit that would not have been out of place in a lingerie catalog.
Perhaps some sort of hopes for fashion design? He rolled the thought around in his mind as he flipped to the last page. It was devoted to one picture, a clearly mechanical construct shaded with bits of purple and maroon. A yellow light was drawn on its chest, some sort of power source, perhaps?
The image was almost ridiculous, the impression of its size was that it was quite large and the materials required to make it durable and mobile would have made it so heavy that it could barely move. Still, there was an almost palpable feeling of dread as he stared at it. Below it, in penmanship that suggested confusion, were a few scrawled words.
'Sentinel?' was the first, followed by
'What is this?' Armsmaster stared at it for a moment, his frown growing before closing the notebook and stowing it away. Something to look into later, perhaps he could even inquire of Hebert directly. He mused on that as he climbed onto his motorcycle once the drones had settled in their appropriate places.
He glanced back toward the ruined firehouse, debating whether to make another sweep and be sure he hadn't overlooked anything. A message appeared on his display, signalling an incoming call and he sighed.
"Armsmaster here," he said. "What do you need, Director?"
"We're having a meeting concerning the situation with the Empire, report to my office as soon as possible." Her voice crackled across the speaker.
"Understood," he replied, grimacing. "I'll be there shortly." The call ended without any farewell and he sighed, starting up his motorcycle. With a last glance toward the firehouse, he drove away.
~~~~~~~~
A lifetime's worth.
What did that mean? What was I missing, that might explain that one thought? I looked up at the sky, watching the twinkle of stars through the gaps in the clouds now that the rain had stopped. Vicky had went home, in a much better mood than she had started out with, and I was sitting on the roof of the shelter, my legs hanging off the edge. Below, the hustle and bustle of the shelter had slowed to a crawl as the lights started to go out. A few stayed on, some people not content to turn in just yet.
A lot like me at the moment. I knew that if I tried right now, I would just end up tossing and turning all night long as questions and thoughts ate away at what might be a peaceful night's sleep. I sighed and raised a hand as more and more lights went out, leaving the neighborhood, and me, in darkness.
But only for a moment as fire bloomed above my hand, casting light for me to see by and warmth to guard against the night's chill. I stared at it for a moment, then directed it to circle around my hand with only a thought. When I first discovered this power, it had been in a fit of rage and I'd avoided touching it as much as possible.
With nearly disastrous consequences. I grimaced at the thought of the nightmare or whatever it had been and waking to find that the bed, that I, was ablaze. Yet the fire hadn't harmed me at all. Even now, with the fireball having grown to the size of my head, I felt nothing more than warmth from it. I pulled on it in my mind, scretching the ball out into a ribbon of flame that I wove around my hand and between my fingers, letting the warmth and glow of it encompass me.
And I didn't even have to try. I wanted to do it, and was natural to just follow through. Like it was something I'd done before, practiced until I could do these things with ease. But I hadn't. Instead, new powers showed up, I stumbled a bit at first and then I was using them like it was second nature.
A lifetime's worth. The thought repeated and I frowned, bringing the streamers of fire back together into a fireball, staring at it for a moment before reaching out with one hand. It pulsed, almost like a heartbeat and I felt an answering warmth pulse somewhere deep inside me. Would it burn if I touched it? Would I burn? I hadn't before, so probably n—
A worried voice shouted and cold water splashed over and past me, extinguishing the fireball with a hiss. I jerked to the side, startled by the sudden drenching, twisting to see Noelle staring at me, a water bottle held open before her.
I blinked, glancing around the roof quickly. There was no one else but the two of us. "What… why?"
"Are you alright?" Noelle asked, quickly kneeling beside me and grabbing my hand. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" She turned my hand over and over, looking at it with no small amount of worry on her face.
I gently disentangled my hand. "I'm fine. Since I got my powers, the fire never bothered me. Anyway, when did you get here? How did you get here?" Had I been so wrapped up in thinking about my powers that I'd missed her arrival? After promising to myself that I'd keep a closer watch on my immediate surroundings. Stupid.
"I came up the stairs?" Noelle asked in a way that made me sigh as she pointed at the stairwell leading down. "And found you trying to set yourself on fire."
"I wasn't trying to set myself on fire," I interrupted, rolling my eyes. "I said the fire doesn't bother me, remember?"
Noelle looked skeptical as she carefully sat down on the edge of the roof next to me. "Most people aren't so blasé about something like that."
I shrugged. "It's a power. I stopped trying to figure out why I don't burn or even really feel the heat a while ago." A glance around had me frown. "You skipped out on Krouse?"
Noelle began twirling a some keys around her finger. "Sort of. Krouse means well, but sometimes he gets a bit clingy, especially with recent events. Right now, though, he's, ahem, otherwise occupied and not likely to get away."
I arched an eyebrow, looking from her to the keys spinning on her finger. What did that mean? I figured out the answer a moment later from a particularly vivid image in her mind and flushed. "Ew. Too much information."
"Don't want to know, don't go peeking," Noelle shrugged, smirking at me before her expression turned serious. "Though, that you did does let me bring up one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."
"So, this isn't just a social call," I sighed, having a strange sense that I knew what was coming. "What is it?"
"You've been busy lately," Noelle said after a moment. "Even with this… whatever it is, lingering between us and what I pick up from it, I've been following the news." She half-turned to face me and there was no attempt on her part to hide what she was feeling right now. Worry.
"I've felt what you've been feeling and thinking during these times, Taylor," she stated. "And I get where you're coming from with some of those thoughts. The way I was… before you did your thing, there were times when I wanted to really let loose and make everyone feel the way I did."
I turned so I was staring away from her, inexplicably irritated by her words. "I don't think it's the same thing. I'm not a ravening monster twisted by the Simurgh and powers in a bottle."
"But you are angry and you've got a lot of power," Noelle said, ignoring my jab at her condition. It had stung, I could feel that, but she was refusing to let it distract her. "You know, I looked up some more about you once I was able to."
"I'd make some irritated remark about you figuring out I was Sirin, but I kind of blew that secret voluntarily," I remarked.
"Taylor," Noelle said gently. "You're not going to distract me. Before you saved me, before you ended up in Coil's cell, you had a fight with the Empire, right?"
"What about it?"
"Don't you think that maybe, being called out on going too far by a Neo-Nazi, reformed or not, was a sign that you might in fact be going too far?"
I snorted. "Do you know some of the things they've done? Purity, of all people, doesn't have any stance from which to throw stones over anything I've done. Especially anything I did to Cricket."
"And Stormtiger? How does what Cricket did matter there? Or with those guys last night that you terrified so badly? Or with Ashley?"
I winced, but didn't turn in her direction. "Thought we weren't picking up from each other as clearly anymore."
"Most of the time, no, but when things bother you, or you feel them strongly, it's clearer," Noelle said. "And that bothered you. A lot more than you're willing to voice. Especially with how you tore into Stormtiger after."
"If he'd just told me what I wanted to kno—" I began.
"Set aside the fact that they're Neo-Nazis, or white supremacists, or any of that," Noelle interrupted. "They may be scum, sure and do I care if you beat the living crap out of them? Honestly, no, I don't. The fact—"
"Then why are you—"
"I'm not finished, so please don't interrupt me," Noelle said firmly. "I don't care about them. I do care about what doing these things to them is doing to you."
I didn't say anything as she continued. "Back to Stormtiger, though, why do you think he should have told you where Cricket was? You're an enemy. One who had already hurt her quite a bit. He's a Neo-Nazi, sure, but that doesn't make him devoid of feelings. You ripped into his mind, saw him by her bedside. And didn't even look at what else there was in the memory. She was comatose, maybe permanently, and he was still there, sticking by her."
"Your point?" I asked.
"I kind of have valuable insight into it. Being there for someone like that? It takes more than just a camaraderie from hating someone with different colored skin." Her expression softened for a moment as she thought of something. "You might say I was in her position, comatose, for a long time."
"That's hardly the same thing," I protested. "You're not…"
"A Neo-Nazi? No, but just… put that fact to the side. Their beliefs suck, sure, but you can't use that as a reason to treat them as less than human, as objects to just take what you want from."
"I don't want anything from them," I protested.
"Except to crush them into the dirt?" Noelle asked, cutting off whatever else I had been about to say. "Because one of them gave you a bloody nose, twice?"
"She nearly killed me," I said, shuddering as the image of her looming above me came to the forefront of my mind again. Even knowing she was unlikely to ever threaten me again personally, the memory still filled me with fear.
"You were afraid, I get it," Noelle said, laying a hand on my shoulder. I didn't pull away, but it was a near thing. "You shouldn't let that fear drive you, or make this personal. Cricket's done and you won that fight."
"I want to believe that," I said quietly, taking a deep breath as I let her words sink in. It was something to think about, truly. Maybe I was going a bit far. But it wasn't a topic I wanted to talk about any further.
A thought occurred and I forced a smile as I glanced her way, seeing that she was relaxing a bit as I absorbed what she had been saying. "Change of subject."
"I'll allow it," she said with a smirk. "What's the new topic?"
"Couldn't Krouse just switch his way out?"
Noelle laughed and gave me a look. "Nice try at embarrassing me. But I can assure you, Krouse was in no state to even try that."
I flushed again as I got another image that was entirely too clear. "I shouldn't have asked."
Noelle patted my head. "I'm sure you'll understand when you're older."
"I hate you," I said without any heat to it. "So much."
"Sure, sure," Noelle said. "C'mon, you could probably do with getting dried off and I'm sure there's some place that is open right now. You need something to eat, seriously."
"Fine, fine,
mom," I grumbled, batting her hand away.
"Mmm, no," Noelle murmured. "Not old enough for that, but… maybe a big sister?"
I climbed to my feet, arching an eyebrow at her hopeful tone. A big sister? I had wanted one when I was younger. For a while, Emma had filled the spot but having someone there would have been nice after that. Still, I hesitated and Noelle gave me a half-smile.
"A bit too much, I get it," she said. "Friends?"
I nodded quickly. "Friends, I can do." Noelle smiled and we started toward the stairs to find food.
~~~~~~~~
Truth be told, it would surprise most that knew him, but Max Anders, Kaiser, cared little for the ideology he espoused. No, the only thing he cared for, truly, was power. And the gathering of more power. Two things that the Empire 88, which he had seized the reins of from his father years ago, provided in abundance.
Or it had until little over two weeks ago, before a disastrous conflict between an independent hero, one relatively unknown at that point, and four of his own.
It had infuriated him, to see his followers brought low by someone who was barely worth his notice. The insult was compounded by the fact that the media seized on it, those who opposed his Empire for ideological reasons using it as a rallying cry to take action against him.
That had been infuriating, but other matters had claimed priority before he could see to putting some upstart in her place. Reclaiming what had been taken from him took precedence. Only then could he see to teaching the little chit where she stood in the scheme of things.
However, that situation had been tabled again in favor of a more immediate issue. The show of force to reclaim his soldiers had been ill-timed. While he had lead that strike, Lung and his ilk had played their hand, assaulting his Empire. His haste in moving to secure what was his had resulted in provoking the Protectorate when the ABB were moving openly against him.
With cost, he had weathered that assault. His Empire had been diminished, but it, he endured. And as long as he did, the Empire would also. Hostilities had died down and he was sure he could begin moving again, when the nuisance resurfaced. Where she had been during the fighting, he knew not. Nor, in truth, did he care. Perhaps she had gone to ground while the true powers of this city fought? That mattered little, ultimately. Where she had been was of no account against what she was doing now.
Whatever reason for her disappearance, she was acting against him now and that could not be borne. The past several days had been nothing but attack after attack on his holdings. No precaution appeared sufficient to deter or evade her notice. After Stormtiger's defeat and the disturbing report he had received in its wake, he had held his parahuman forces back and merely observed.
There appeared to be neither reason nor logic to her assaults. How she identified what was his eluded him too. She would simply appear, devastate his belongings and depart. Sometimes she would question his followers, either about him, or about Cricket.
What the appropriate response to her defiance should be occupied his thoughts since. The girl was powerful, clearly, but he could not abide the continued slight to his authority. She would be curbed and it had to be in such a way that spoke boldly, illustrated that no one defied his Empire. Lung was tolerated; he had power, despite his tainted stock. But no others could be permitted, especially not one who was barely worth his notice, a vigilante unaffiliated with the Protectorate.
Sirin would bend her neck to her betters, or she would be broken.
.
Safe 
