In Nuclear Fire

Nuclear Fire 18
Nuclear Fire 18​

So, to summarize, now I find myself in close proximity to 3 of the most dangerous parahumans in the world who are below 18. With two of them not being even 14!

Because sure, the kind of stuff that Alexandria and Legend can do is impressive and shiny, but the subtle powers are the scary ones.

And Aisha Laborn?

She utterly terrifies me.

I mean, okay, any camera can counter her. For a time. But that's like saying that any chump can kill Alexandria with a CO2 fire extinguisher.

At least she hasn't triggered yet. I hope. She shouldn't have unless I butterflied her canon trigger in some way or another. But I can see her! She's still there and still in my memories, so she doesn't have her power yet.

"What are you looking at?" She barks at me as she takes a seat a desk away from mine.

Oh, it seems that she noticed my blatant staring. How do I answer that in a suave and classy way that doesn't earn me her eternal enmity? "Just wondering why an older girl is coming to my class." I need more practice with this.

And I'll soon need practice dodging sharp objects if the look she's giving me is anything to go by. "The fuck do you care?"

"That's fair." I shrug my shoulders and return my eyes to my notebook. Remember kids! When in doubt, just ignore the other person until they stop being angry at you. Works every time.

"Oh, my, you must be great at parties."

Damn it! My flawless strategy of ignoring her is not working!

"Wouldn't know." I don't even raise my eyes from my notebook to look at her. "I haven't been invited to any and it's not like I'd go if I were."

"Your parents must be so proud."

"I wouldn't know that either. They both died months ago."

Now that does the trick! "Oh. I see--" She stutters. "Well-- good to know!"

Oh, dead parents. The ultimate counter to yo-mamma jokes.

I feel dirty just for thinking that.



After several hours of unending misery and mediocrity, the bell finally rings to announce our lunch break. I take my tray to my table, the furthest one from everything and everyone else, and get myself comfortable.

"Hi, runt!"

Oh, come on! I just want some peace and quiet for myself, why do people have to ruin it by interacting with me?

"Hi, hag," I greet Aisha who has taken a seat across the table, making her laugh.

Ok, don't make eye contact and don't speak to her. Eventually, she has to get bored and leave.

My greeting doesn't count as talking to her! That was just being polite.

"Oh, no. You two are not teaming up." A third voice joins in, and I feel like fucking screaming. What is Missy doing here? I didn't do anything today to warrant her attention! "I already have more than enough troubles with one problem child." I'm a victim of my own fame.

"Typical." Aisha leans back and puts her foot on the table. "First day at school and miss cop here is already coming down on the black girl."

"I don't care about your skin, Aisha." Oh, boy, are Missy's words full of poison. "I care about your story which Winslow was happy to share with us."

"I'm not apologizing for the druggies I beat up!"

I'm reminded that the deepest pit of hatred than most people fell into is nothing but a small bump compared to the hatred that Aisha has for drugs. Not that I can blame her after what she had to live through with her mother.

"Of course, of course. That's what they all say." Missy is really taking her role of 'cop' to heart. She probably was actually trained for this.

"Look, officer, I'm not doing anything illegal! I'm not stealing your boyfriend or anything like that."

Boyfriend? Who's she talking abo--

Oh, fuck no.

"This jerk my boyfriend?" Missy asks, throwing a thumb in my direction. "If anything, I'm his parole officer."

"Really, this dweeb? What did he do, forget his diaper?"

That's enough. I had enough of people talking for me. "My only crime was explaining to my teachers, in excruciating detail, all the ways in which they were wrong."

There's a slapping sound when Missy slams her palm against her forehead.

For her part, Aisha looks as if she's about to fall off her chair in laughter. "Perfect, then! That's actually why I'm here. Word in the street is that yours is the homework I should be copying to get perfect marks." As I said: victim of my own fame.

"You two do know I'm right here, right?" Missy chips in a vain attempt at catching our attention.

"If you give me your math book," Aisha adds. "I'll give you a kiss."

Ugh, ugh. No, thank you. You're far too young for me.

Shit, I am far too young for you! This reincarnation thing is confusing. "Not interested."

"What, you gay?"

The first time someone actually asks me that. At least in this life. "I'll say no to that."

"You actually had to think about it!"

I shrug. "If anything, I'm saving myself for a robot girlfriend."

There's a cracking sound when Missy's plastic fork breaks in her hand. And now she's just there, staring at me as if she just found me breaking all her dolls. Was it something that I said?

"Ha!" Aisha still sounds like she's having the time of her life. "A guy like you used to go to my school. Before it went down in flames, that is. Some Gur, Gir--"

"Greg?" I blur out before I have time to think about the implications. The story of my life.

"Yes, that! How did you know?"

"My sister, Taylor, was Greg's classmate."

"Wait, Taylor Hebert?" Aisha's eyes narrow. "The locker girl? Shit, man, sorry for that. All the school heard about the locker." She coughs into her fist. "So, about my question?"

I reach for my backpack, pull out my math book, and give it to her.

"Thanks!" She snatches it away and starts browsing through it.

And now Missy's rubbing the side of her head like she's suffering a headache. "Why did you do that?"

"Because she asked nicely."

"And what? If someone asks you nicely to jump off a bridge you'll do it too?"

"Of course not! That'd involve me putting effort into it."

"She's going to copy all your work!"

"Wait, what the fuck?" Our attention gets enraptured by Aisha's curse. "This is all solved!"

I don't even bother to hide my pride at that. "Yeah, I solved it during one of the breaks when I had nothing else worth doing."

"You could have talked to your classmates and, you know, interacted with them." Missy tells me through clenched teeth.

"As I said, 'nothing else worth doing'."

I can almost hear the squeaking noise of Missy grinding her teeth. Is this what killer intent feels like? This must be what killer intent feels like.

"Ha! I like you." With that declaration, Aisha jumps to her feet and puts the book in her backpack. "I'll give this back to you later today, k'?"

She, in fact, doesn't give it back to me later that day. Nor the day after that or the following one.

At one point I eventually have to accept that she completely forgot about the issue.

Oh, well, it's not like I particularly care about that book.



While Taylor studies, I tinker. And after days of back-breaking work, and with my resources almost at zero once again, my next project is finally ready. This is, without a doubt, the greatest thing that I have created so far.

I'm not going to laugh.

I'm not going to laugh.

Oh, who the fuck cares? I snicker evilly at my invention.

It looks like an Upgrade Canister from the original Deus Ex: a vaguely egg-shaped blue container the size of a pineapple. But it has some key differences when compared to the original product.

In the first place, it doesn't contain any implants but the machinery to create them.

And in the second, I didn't build it for me but for Atlas.

"Are you ready for this, little guy?"

Next to me, Atlas chirps responding to my vocal input.

Ok, let's do this! It's upgrade time! Not only for him but for me too.

Atlas' back splits open revealing a socket the size of the canister's base. I plug it in, and through my Visor's interface I guide the process. His internal mechanisms dismantle the canister piece by piece, 'eating' it for a lack of a better word. The lights that dot his back start blinking as the software gets installed, and then Atlas' body-parts start shifting. The solid metal plate that composes the Drone's exoskeleton break open, absorbed into the main body, and replaced by scales for greater flexibility. Its eyes grow in size, becoming bulbous to accommodate the new battery of sensors, and the yellow membrane of the wings turns black, adopting a texture similar to Jensen's artificial muscles.

Now it looks closer to what an actual Zerg would look like. If the Zerg had evolved on Cybertron, that is.

With a 'blip' Atlas informs me that the update is done. All systems are green so… come on boy! Let's see what you can do.

I roll up my sleeve and place my open palm next to him. Atlas moves his head up and down as if he was sniffing me, but I know that his internal sensors are just studying my skin.

He crawls to me as if he was about to lick my fingers, and then the magic takes place.

He starts unfolding, his body melting over my skin as if it was a metallic glove.

It's working! It's working! Praise be the heavens above, it's working!

Oh, I feel like laughing again.

The idea was nothing if not brilliant. By upgrading my drone with the Deus Ex technology, I've given him the ability to interface with human anatomy without sacrificing his ability to turn into a hatchery later on. And the best part is that his repair functions work perfectly together with Deus Ex's healing ones, meaning that now the drone can both repair Mecha Zerg structures and also heal the human bodies it's linked to. And this ability will be inherited by all his children through the hatchery!

I'm a ge-- why can't I close my fist?

Actually, why can't I move my arm at all? Oh, of course, silly me. The drone hasn't linked with my nervous system yet, that's why I can't feel or move my arm.

I-- I didn't really think about how Atlas would proceed with that final step. I just built the upgrade blindly guided by my power. Seriously, how is he going to plug into my--

A metallic hiss brings the answer to my question as several spikes grow on the back of my arm. Except those aren't any normal spikes. Those are dozens of hypodermic needles that run all the way from my elbow to the tip of each finger.

Oh.

Oh shit.

I barely have time to reach for a piece of cloth and force it into my mouth before the pain starts.

And there is pain.

There is a lot of it.

My body arches back as a muffled scream forces its way out of my gagged mouth, my head hitting against the floor. It's a good thing that Danny isn't here to hear the commotion. Taylor is, though, who comes rushing into my room.

"Peter! What's-- oh, my God!"

She reaches for me but I push her away with a swipe of my free arm, the one that doesn't feel like it's been melted in boiling steel. Yes, things look -and feel- bad but I need the process to continue. If she tries to force the drone out, I risk losing my entire freaking arm!

And suddenly, as fast as it came, the pain is gone. My heart still feels like it's about to burst out of my chest, but my thoughts are no longer dominated by the unending agony. I push myself into a seating position. I can move my arm now! And not only that, but I can feel through it as if it was my flesh and blood one! The wooden floor, my shirt, even the warmth of my chest! This is amazing.

"What just happened? Why did you scream like that?" Ah, yes. Taylor's still there and looking at me in concern.

"That was the sound of progress, my dear." I snap my fingers. It feels so good to be able to do that!

"What the fuck is wrong-- no, no. Don't answer that." Taylor takes a deep breath as she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Just explain."

"Well, I successfully turned Atlas into a detachable implant! I just didn't account for how much it would hurt to get it implanted." Using the X-Ray function of my visor, I check the inside of my arm. Wow. The needles go all the way into the muscle, through the bone, and all the way to the other side. That was why it hurt so much.

Wait, no. How that I'm conscious? This amount of damage should have turned me into a convulsing wreck on the floor, and knocked me unconscious for hours.

Tinker bulshit? Yeah, I'm going with that.

"Was it at least worth all the pain?"

"Oh, definitely." With a mental command my gauntlet shifts. First into a welding tool, and then into the drone's plasma saws. "Not only it can turn into a variety of construction tools, but also increases my strength, and heals whatever limb it's attached to."

Taylor's face lights up, realization dawning on her. "That's what you talked about building after--"

"After the stabbing, yes. If we had had this back then, we wouldn't have needed to call emergency services at all! We could have healed the guy on our own."

Not again. We are not getting caught with our pants down again.

"That's good." She nods, pinching her chin. "But wait! Won't it hurt every time you try to heal someone? That sounds counter-productive."

"No, that-- that was a mistake on my part." Another mental command and Atlas detaches of my arm, the process of implantation going in reverse. Without pain this time, thankfully. In a moment Atlas is back at my feet, fully formed, and there's no evidence left that he was connected to my arm just seconds ago. I don't even have scars left of the needles. Everything was healed! The only thing left is the great disappointment I feel at my fleshy arm not being able to turn into a plasma buzzsaw. "I programmed it to keep people healthy and alive, and not causing unnecessary pain is a big part of that."

"What went wrong?" I'm getting to it, Taylor!

"I-- programmed it to do all that after the implantation. Not before or during it."

There's a slapping sound when Taylor's palm connects with her forehead.

Why do I have that effect on people?

"But don't worry!" I quickly add. "That's easy to fix." I access Atlas' functions with my visor and-- wait a second. "It already did it on its own."

"What?"

"Atlas recognized the error in causing me pain, and so he rewrote his own program to not do that anymore." That must have been why the first implantation didn't hurt as much as it should have. Atlas corrected his program midways-through. "So, if I now do this--"

I reach with my other hand this time, and let the process repeat itself. I close my eyes and clench my teeth ready for the pain but it never comes. I crack my eyes open and see the arm fully integrated. I didn't feel a thing!

"Well, congratulations. You built a robot smarter than you." Taylor deadpans.

"I take that as a compliment! But yeah, I did program it to take into account different biologies and to learn on the fly. This is just an extension of that program."

"Good to know. Does that mean I can go back to studying or will you keep mutilating yourself?"

"No more mutilation for the day, Taylor. I ran out of materials for that."

She rubs her temples. I feel like she'd get along marvelously with Missy. "Just-- just be more careful, okay? And no more screaming, please. Tomorrow is my entrance exam and I want to be ready for it."

Tomorrow is Friday? The week is already ending and I didn't even notice it! Tomorrow will be an important day for all of us. Not only will I have the resources to start building the hatchery, but Taylor will have her exam for Arcadia.

Mmm, I wonder--

"You are not plugging that thing into my brain." She shoots my idea down before I can even formulate it.

"Okay, let's discard that idea then."

"I'm going back to the living room. Could you help me with some final math problems I'm having trouble with? The old fashioned, non tinker way."

"Of course! I'll be there in a minute. Just let me send this guy on his way."

I go to the basement and there I let Atlas go, ordering him to continue with his collecting of metals. The hatchery is so close that I can almost taste it! And with that done-- wait, is Atlas moving faster now? And not only that, but he's nimbler too. It seems that my upgrades did more for him than I was expecting.

Nice!

With a bright smile, I go help Taylor get ready for her big day.
 
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Nuclear Fire 19
Nuclear Fire 19​

Today's the day! In just moments Taylor will be leaving for Arcadia, and like any teenager on the morning of her exams, she's a total wreck.

"Where's my pencil sharpener?!" She cries out, turning the sofa upside down.

"Here, take mine." I offer, taking it out of my bag.

"Won't you need it?"

"Not more than you."

She snatches it out of my grip. It's getting a bit late for me to leave for Clarendon but this is more important.

"Pen, ruler, pencil--" She lists while checking the inside of her pencil case. "Maybe some colors?"

"Take them. Better to have them and not need them."

"Yes, yes." She stands up and spends a moment just looking down at her school bag in silence. "Okay, I think I have everything. I'll get there earlier and use the chance to check my notes."

"Taylor, breathe," I tell her slowly, taking her hands between mine. "Getting too nervous can be just as bad as forgetting a topic. Trust in yourself, trust in what we studied, and you'll do fine."

She nods, trying to retain her composure. She fails, but the intention is what counts. "Thank you."

"And remember. It isn't what you know, it's what you seem to know."

I manage to get her to crack a smile that way.

"I wished mom was here to see me."

I pat her back. "Wherever she is, I'm sure she's proud of you. Now go get'em, tiger!"

I follow her to the bus stop and stay with her until she has boarded her transport to Arcadia.

"Vaya con Dios." I say as I wave at the bus which is slowly becoming smaller in the distance.

I do get yelled at once I get late to Clarendon, but who gives a fuck? It was totally worth it.



I wonder how Taylor is doing.

Did she bring enough pencils? We could have looked over what the mitochondria was one last time.

Shit, was her calculator in radians or degrees? Lives have been lost because of that!

I did teach her how to check for that, but what if she forgets?

Fuck it! If she fails we're breaking into the biggest bank we can find and we're getting her a GED.

My train of thought gets violently interrupted when I feel a cold, wet thing getting into my ear.

"Agh!" I yell, falling to the floor.

The other children at the cafeteria start laughing at my misery as I crawl my way up to my seat. I search for my attacker and see the grinning face of Aisha staring back at me. On one hand, she has a drinking straw and a sheet of paper. One of the corners of the sheet has been bitten off and is covered in saliva. On the other hand, she carries her tray.

"My vengeance will be terrible," I tell her as she takes a seat across my table.

"I don't know," She waves a finger in front of me. "You look like the kind of guy who's all bark and no bite."

No bite? She will see!

They will all see!

Maybe. Eventually. I'd need to think about something. Maybe an enhanced jaw with saw-teeth? No, no. Hypodermic teeth with an acid payload.

How would I even use that in a safe way?

"So, what got your panties in a twist?" She asks, grabbing her fork in a closed fist and stabbing that innocent piece of meat. Damn, are her manners bad. As in, actually distracting.

"It's my sister."

"Locker girl?"

The table groans in pain as I stab my own meal. I look at her directly in the eyes as I speak, "You call her that again and I'm punching your teeth in."

"Ha! You'd have to catch me first." She takes a bite and continues talking with her mouth full. "Look, sorry, I suck at names. I just remember that your sis is a T-something."

Oh, well. Let no one say that I don't understand the difference between malice and mere stupidity. Recognizing it is another matter altogether.

"Taylor. Today's her entrance exam for Arcadia. If she doesn't do well, she'll have to go to a school that might even make Winslow look nice."

"Uff, harsh. Is that why you were late today?"

"Yeah, I was seeing her off."

"You don't give a fuck about school, do you?"

I shrug. What else am I supposed to do? It's not like I'm trying to justify myself here.

"Good. For my part, my bro's boss dragged me here."

My heart skips a beat.

Did Coil put Aisha in Clarendon? I don't think it was to spy on me, he shouldn't know yet. And Aisha would suck as a spy, she's too much of a scatterbrain. A plan to win more of Brian's loyalty? He might need that if the PRT is putting more pressure on him.

Whatever the case, I'll need to do something about him fast.

"How does Clarendon compare to Winslow?" I quickly ask to change the topic.

She shrugs. "No gang colors, the children don't carry knives for self-defense, and the bathrooms aren't stained in shit and piss. I haven't even gotten into a fight yet! And not because I don't want to. It's just that there are no Empire kids talking about what the Empire will do to my family once they are in charge, and no mules selling drugs in the girl's locker room."

They totally deserved what happened to them in canon.

Should I look into attacking the merchants next? God knows that Skidmark deserves all the fire and brimstone I can provide, and getting to one of Squealer's labs would be useful for my future projects.

"Give it some time," I tell her. "Everyone deserves a good kick in the ass every now and again."

"I know, right? That or a bullet to the head. It's amazing how many problems one of those can solve. Not like I ever shoot anyone, mind you, but I'm not sure about you." She adds with a grin and a dismissive wave of her hand.

She's joking.

She has to be joking. But I have. I shot one of the mercenaries who was shooting at Taylor. The laser rifle left a smoking hole the size of my fist in his back.

Well, no. Not my current fist but my previous one. The fist of a male adult.

Has Aisha noticed my discomfort?

"What?" She asks.

Oh, yes, she very much has.

She goes quiet and is now staring at me with a serious expression. I very much don't want to look at her and so I avert my eyes. That's very much not something I should be doing if I don't want to appear guilty.

Her face lights up in wild fascination. "You-are-shitting-me." She says in whispers, looking around. She only continues once she confirms there's no one nearby. "I said that as a joke, but— shit. Did you actually do that?"

Despite her deceiving looks, Aisha is tremendously intelligent. She should already have figured out that her brother Brian is Grue, and in the story she managed to figure out who Skitter was after meeting her once. Heck, she accomplished what Tattletale, Alexandria, and Jack Slash had all failed to do: actually read Taylor. And she did that because she's actually smart and good at thinking outside the box, and not fake-smart like Thinkers are.

Well, no point in lying to her then. "I did."

"Did they deserve it?"

Not what I was expecting her to ask. Not what I'd expect any normal person to ask, really. Not after learning that an 11-years old shot a person. But this is Aisha. Neither she nor I, are what most would call 'normal'. "They were trying to kill my sister."

"Then they did." Her words are-- reassuring, somehow. "You don't mess with family." In another life, she didn't just threaten to kill but downright torture Skitter if she ever harmed Brian. "Did-- did you feel anything after it?"

The fucking recoil! Yes, I'm still very much mad about a freaking laser rifle having recoil. Seriously, how does that happen? But I digress. I doubt that's what she refers to. "Not a thing. I did what I had to do, and I'd do it again if I were in the same position."

"Good."

The sound of the bell signals the end of our lunch break, and with it the end of our discussion.

Aisha jumps to her feet. "Well, talk more later. And don't worry, your secret's safe with me!"

You know, Aisha, secrets are easier to keep safe if you don't speak out loud that you have them. Case in point, Missy was walking behind you while you said that.

"What secret?" My self-proclaimed parole officer asks with a raised eyebrow.

"That the runt here popped his cherry before I did!"

What follows is the sound of me smashing my head against the table. Repeatedly.

One day, Aisha. One day I'll strangle you and I'll enjoy doing so.



When I get back home, I enter with a loud "Hello!" but only the empty silence is there to meet me.

Taylor must still be at Arcadia.

I have gotten accustomed to having her around to receive me, usually studying or training with her bugs, but she isn't here today.

Well, I guess I could-- I don't know. Get me something to drink? Yeah, that sounds about right.

Was this house always this big? I mean, it's tiny, but I'm just noticing how much empty space there's in here. Some posters and pictures would do wonders to make the walls look less naked.

It's also silent. Does Danny have a radio? Some music would do this place some good. Wait, silly me, I have one in my visor. First time using that function even.

Eh, but if I go for my visor I might as well go tinkering.

Our hideout, the one Atlas dug, is full of raw metal but that I'm saving for the Hatchery so I won't be building anything new. I could cram some more programs inside of Atlas, though. I think I know how to give Banelings an EMP option, and how to give Zerglings an invisibility cloak. Both of those upgrades will be tremendously useful once we start fighting the gangs properly.

Or I could just build the Hatchery already. Everything's set for that.

But it doesn't feel right! I don't want to do it without Taylor here! That will be a special moment for both of us, and I want her to see it. I want to celebrate it with her. The same way we'll celebrate her passing the test.

I hope.

She has to pass the test.

As it turns out, after some more programing I end up browsing PHO. I can't believe it took me this long to make an account! The site is nowhere near as interesting as I expected it to be, but I assume it's because the bay is currently stable. I don't expect things to continue that way for long.

About an hour after my arrival, I hear the sound of someone unlocking the door.

Taylor is here.

I rush down the stair just as she's walking in. The moment she sees me, she raises both hands. In one she shows me five fingers, and in the other two. "Only seven people were going to get into Arcadia. Guess who's number seven?" She's smiling like I haven't seen her smile before.

I can't contain my excitement. I yell, she yells, we hug and then start jumping around. We almost break a lamp in our excitement but who cares? Taylor did it!

"Congratulations, sis!"

"Oh, I can't wait to see Emma and Sophia's faces when they see me there! And I'll be there due to my own merits, not because of a sports carrier or because my daddy has money." We go to the kitchen and toast with glasses of juice. "And you? How was your day?"

I got yelled at for arriving late and then Aisha figured out I had killed a man. But I don't think Taylor wants to hear about that.

"It got a lot better with this news! And will only improve after I build the Hatchery." Now that she's here I can get down to that.

"You haven't yet?"

"Of course not. I was waiting for you."

"Well, here I am. So, let's do it!"

I take the lead as we march to our underground base. Fairly barebones compared to Coil's base but I hope to develop it further in the coming weeks. One of the first steps should be adding some lights because right now the only way we can move around here is with our visors.

Okay, Taylor is at my side, and Atlas is patiently waiting on his spot on top of the pile of materials.

I rub my hands together. "Are you ready, sis?"

"Oh, absolutely." Taylor nods enthusiastically.

"Then let's get weird." This is it. The moment of truth. The moment I find out if all my work in the past weeks amounted to anything. "Atlas, do the thing!" A completely unnecessary vocalization, as I'm guiding him through my visor, but it still feels good to say it.

Atlas doesn't work as fast as the in-game mechanics would lead one to believe, but it's still surprising the speed at which he eats the scrap. And as he does, he starts growing. His legs and wings are gone now, replaced by dozens of tiny pincers that keep cutting the material and feeding it to the main body. Wires emerge as if they were the roots of a tree, and tubes get built on the spot, connecting the slowly expanding main structure. Beams anchor themselves to the ground, and in around five minutes the Hatchery is fully built.

It's a vaguely pyramidal structure as tall as a Taylor and a half, with a base so wide that it wouldn't have fit inside our living room. It's slightly bulbous, fitting with the mecha zerg design, but it's not identical to the original thing. I can see flaps connected to the main body by Deus Ex synthetic muscles, and the panels aren't smooth surfaces but composed of those scales that Atlas developed after I upgraded him. That means that my idea worked! It took me a month of hard work but here I have a Hatchery which is a perfect integration of StarCraft and Deus Ex tech.

I feel so proud right now.

"Wow," Taylor exclaims in amazement.

"I know, right?"

And it's not over yet.

From several openings, small creatures start emerging. They are the initial phase of any Mecha Zerg construction: the Mecha Larvas. They are about as long and wide as my arm, with bodies that end in triangular heads and pincers longer than my fingers. There are five of them, but three soon have turned into eggs with the extra resources I saved. It takes another couple minutes for the eggs to hatch, and for three new drones to emerge. They are identical to the original one, and so I name them Atlas II, III, and IV.

"Is this how you build them? I wasn't expecting it to be so-- fleshy?"

"The best of both worlds, Taylor." I give the order through my visor and Atlas II goes to finish dismantling our first construction site, while Atlas III starts digging towards the second one. Atlas IV remains here, though, as I have plans for him. "We'll be able to build them fairly fast once we get enough materials." And then we'll have an army.

Three more larvas were produced to replace the ones that turned into drones, keeping the total number at a steady five. I pick one up and-- yes, yes. It's melting into my arm. A larva doesn't give me anywhere near the strength or tools that a drone gives me, but it does allow for some light healing and extra armor. Again, nowhere near as good as a drone implant, but it's better than nothing.

I wonder what will happen once I get a Mecha Ultralisk. Food for thought.

I pick a second larva and place it on my shoulder. It links with the first one and now I have my arm completely encased in the zerg carapace, together with my shoulder and a bit of my torso.

Perfect! That means with enough Mecha Zergs I can get a full set of armor! But I'm not testing that yet. That would involve me getting naked and I don't think that Taylor would appreciate that.

Mmmm, this linking with larvas-- it sounds familiar for some reason. Didn't I see that done somewhere else? I just can't put my finger on where.

"So, what?" Taylor asks, looking my arm up and down. "Are you going to become the God-Emperor of Brockton Bay now?"

Ah, that's what it reminded me of! Of Leto Atreid--

Wait a second.

"You read Dune?" I ask her in surprise.

"It was in Mom's collection. I read most everything in it."

The inspiration for Warhammer and far more stuff than I ever bothered to learn. "I should read the sequels one of these days," I admit scratching the back of my head. I'm not accustomed to talking with other people about stuff like this. At least not without a computer screen in-between.

"I haven't read those either. I stopped after what happened to Alia."

"Oh, I hated that so much!" Ok, enough about that. Let's get back on topic. "But, yeah. Now I'll have more materials to work with." And once I get to the boat graveyard-- oh, boy, that's when things will get interesting.

"Why did you keep that drone here?" She points at Atlas IV.

"Oh, that's because of my next brilliant plan!"

"What public building do you want to break into this time around?" She asks with a cheeky smile.

She knows me so well. "A hospital!"

In her defense, she isn't immediately put-off by my suggestion. She just eyes at me warily. "Why?"

"Listen to me here. I want to take this drone to a hospital and set him to healing people. It will learn about human injuries, how to treat them, and we'll gain some karma points for a good deed done." That information I can then download into my other drones, and allow them to grow and improve.

"Is there any reason why we can't start with an animal shelter?"

"Eh?" I cock my head in confusion.

"You know, heal animals first. Something that we won't feel as guilty of hurting if something goes wrong. Or are animals too different from humans?"

That-- is an excellent question.

"Well, not really, no." There are some specific ailments that don't translate, but stuff like dressing a wound or mending a bone? Those should be mostly the same. "That would be a good idea, yes." I must admit, Taylor is a good sounding board for my crazy plans.

So, a small change of schedules. Tonight we go heal as many animals as we can find, and tomorrow we do that for humans!
 
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Nuclear Fire 20
Nuclear Fire 20​

With Taylor's entrance exam no longer something to be worried about, my mind can now panic over new issues. Specifically: Coil.

Aisha's arrival at Clarendon reminded me of how many pies the guy has his fingers into, and that it's only a matter of time until he finds out our civilian identities.

We need to deal with him before that happens.

I have been thinking about infiltrating his construction company, but I doubt I'll find anything useful. He's too careful with that, and any failed attack risks giving him far more information than what we get. That's unacceptable and potentially fatal. A powerful AI could help me find any irregularities, but I don't have the resources to build one. Oh, poor Helios, he won't see the light of day here.

Better to stop thinking about that before I get depressed.

No, if I want to take Coil out, I'll have to do that with a direct assault. Something that isn't guaranteed to succeed either, not even with me knowing his civilian identity, because he's rarely in the same place in both timelines. That's why I need Drone coverage of the Bay. With enough Drones, I can track him down wherever he goes, and make sure to strike at the same time in both timelines.

Well, not much I can do about that right now besides waiting for my forces to build up, so better to focus on the task at hand.

"Why do all hospitals smell the same?" Taylor, in her Ladybug costume, complains as we teleport into the empty waiting room.

"It's the disinfectants, Ladybug."

Seeking to start our healing careers, we searched for animal hospitals in Brockton Bay. This was the top result: the Companion Care Hospital. And it is indeed top. The walls are white, the floors are clean, and the kennels are bigger than Taylor's room. Heck, most human hospitals don't have this quality of equipment and I have to fight my urges to not start dismantling it for parts.

"Where should we begin?" Taylor asks, checking the evacuation plan that hangs from one of the walls.

"I'd say the ICU."

"This place has an ICU?"

It does indeed have an Intensive Care Unit, and a well equipped one at that, with enough room for some twelve patients. I need to remember that despite the rampant problem of poverty across the Bay, the rich people that live here are hella rich. A pity that a good chunk of them are with the Empire.

This time the abundance of technology plays to our favor, as the resident vets stay comfortably in their control room paying attention solely to the health monitors. Monitors that I have no troubles hacking so the vets won't notice when we start working.

We walk into the ICU, and it's painfully obvious that Taylor has never been in a place like this. "Jesus. Is it the same for humans?" She whispers under her breath.

"Mostly the same, yes."

The first thing that comes to attention are the tubes connecting to the animals' many orifices. Some are for oxygen, others are for different kinds of drainages.

Most of these animals are asleep, and those that aren't don't seem that bothered with our presence. I guess that the entire situation is stressful enough for them.

I must admit that I didn't know that traction beds for dogs existed. Now I do. It's a daunting image to see a sedated dog with his legs tied by a harness to the frame of the bed. According to his chart, he arrived a couple of days ago with all four legs broken, and was immediately sent to intensive care. One leg had to be operated on and received no less than three nails.

It also says here that he'll need weeks to recover, but the vets didn't take me into account.

I set Atlas IV on the bed and ordered him to start healing. He runs into some problems while fixing the bones, at one point he has to break one again because it was mending at a wrong angle, but that's what trial and error is for! After a couple of minutes, he is done. This dog should be healthy enough to return to his owner tomorrow.

The next one is another dog. This one-- shit, this one's bad. A blood infection has rendered his kidneys almost useless and, to make matters worse, a clot has taken one of his lungs. The vets are fighting to save the other one but they give him a very low chance of surviving.

Well, nothing that my drone can do about the infection -he's not equipped to deal with bacterias or viruses besides some light blood filtering- but after a couple of minutes, Atlas has repaired the blood vessels, saved the remaining lung, and a kidney. Sadly the other kidney is irretrievable, but Atlas does the vets a favor and extirpates it.

"How much money is in here?" The surprises don't stop for Taylor, who's now looking at the Chemotherapy section. A pity there are no patients there because I'd like to see how Atlas handles tumors.

"I can't give you a number for how much all this costs but, from what I'm reading, last month they released a cat back to their owner after a thirty thousand dollar in treatment." That information comes from the hospital's computer network which is a breeze to hack.

"Thirty thousand?! That's insane! Who spends that much money on an animal?"

Old people with money and no children. "For many, pets are family members. Many others like them more than humans, and I honestly can't blame them."

"No, I guess not. A dog will never betray you." Taylor hugs herself, going quiet. "But even then it just feels wrong when there are so many people in need."

"Well, that's why we're doing this. To help all those needy people."

Mmmm, but that much money-- we'd definitely be able to help a lot more of those needy people with a good injection of cash.

"We are not robbing a hospital. Human, animal, or otherwise."

Taylor is worthy of admiration. She's slowly getting just as good as Tattletale at reading people. Or at least, at reading me.

Oh well, the last patient in the ICU is a cat recovering from an intensive surgery. It's a bit disturbing to see my drone, bigger than the cat itself, encasing the animal as if it was a protective cocoon. But after just a moment we add another healthy animal to our list.

And with that, we leave the animal hospital behind. Some other pets remain, but most of them are suffering from illnesses that my drone can't cure or wounds that are too light for us to bother with.

We march towards the coast. We stop at several smaller clinics on our way, healing a variety of animals as we go.

And then we reach an animal shelter close to the docks.

"What's wrong with this place?!" It says a lot about the animals in here that they don't start howling with Taylor's yell, most of them looktoo done with life to care.

This shelter isn't one of the pretty ones. Cats are kept in cages so small that they can't even stand, and the walls of the kennels are stained with the blood of dogs hitting their tails against them. 'Happy tail' I remember that being called. A colorful name for a grim condition.

Atlas learns a lot about how to heal atrophied muscles and ruptured blood vessels in here.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Ladybug, what-- oh, that." Taylor's standing outside a freezer. Well, a morgue to be precise. The room is filled with the bodies of cats -dozens of them- and large black bags that my visor tells me contain dogs. "Are you alright?"

"No! What is this?" She takes a step back with an arm covering her mouth, and closes the door shut.

"People abandon their pets faster than they adopt them." I shrug. "Animal shelters eventually get overpopulated, and then they have to euthanize all the new animals they receive because they can't care for them. These bodies here must be waiting to be taken to a landfill."

Could my drones recycle the bodies? Sadly no. The biological matter is beyond what they can process right now.

"And to think I wanted to be a vet when I was younger." Taylor a vet? Now that's a funny image.

"Don't blame the vets, they are doing the best they can with what they are given. Blame imbecile owners who cause this problem in the first place, and give thanks that abandoning a child isn't as easy as abandoning a pet. At least in this country."

Taylor's body shivers at my comment. "I so didn't need that image in my head."

Our last target of the night is another shelter, this one closer to the trainyard. Thankfully for Taylor, this one looks far nicer than the previous one. The kennels are bigger, it has a big backyard, and if the bowls in said backyard are any indication, the animals enjoy plenty of exercise under the sun.

It's also a far livelier place, and the moment we step in dozens of dogs start barking at us.

"Won't someone hear us?" Taylor has to outright yell so I can hear her.

"I wouldn't worry about it. The neighbors are probably accustomed to this."

These dogs are also far more violent, with several trying to tear Atlas to pieces, but the drone resists. Teeth and claws don't do more than scratch the paint, and the moment Atlas gets in range he administers the sedatives, knocking the animals unconscious so he can work.

While I supervise Atlas' work, Taylor browses through the kennels, checking the other dogs. Most of them are big and mean, barking and growling at us, but some others are small and timid. She stops at a corgi that's missing one of his frontal legs. He cowers under Taylor's touch.

"It's okay, boy. I'm not going to hurt you." She pulls a glove off and lets the dog sniff her naked fingers. After a moment he's licking her palm, and I smile under my mask.

A smile that quickly vanishes as I read Atlas' report.

All these animals have been grossly mistreated. There are rope and chain burns, multiple bruisings, old scars, and more. Shit, is that a knife wound?

What the hell happened to these animals? And considering that the dog Taylor's playing with is missing a leg-- is this one of those shelters for abused pets?

I find the answer in the form of an ugly burn mark in the flank of one of the bigger dogs. No, not a mark but a brand. One in the shape of a wolf head.

Shit, these are Hookwolf's dogs.

But this doesn't look like an Empire-owned shelter. These dogs look too well-treated to be one. There's only one person in the Bay who'd look after Hookwolf's dogs, after having liberated them that's it.

"Someone's coming!" Taylor warms me tapping my shoulder. "It's-- what's that?!"

I aim my visor to where she's pointing at and I see three massive beasts of bones and muscles. Monstrous creatures in the shape of dogs but bigger than horses, and with a rider mounting the leading beast. They are a couple blocks away, but moving fast.

Such is my luck. We had to come and visit the one animal shelter owned by Bitch, and now she's charging in following what must be all the barking.

Where's Atlas? It's having trouble with one last dog. The animal's trashing, whimpering in pain as the drone fights to fix whatever's wrong with it.

"Why is it taking so long!?" Taylor yells. Any second now Bitch will burst in, and I doubt she'll be happy to see us here.

"I don't know!" I yell back, checking my visor. "It has parasites! The drone's having trouble removing them!"

"Parasites? Ok, let me try something." Taylor concentrates and Atlas's job suddenly becomes far easier. Parasite-control? Ha! Taylor could still make a good vet.

With a happy 'blip' of a job well done, Atlas detaches from the now perfectly healthy dog.

"Ok, let's go!"

I grab Atlas, Taylor, and teleport out.

We land on a nearby roof just in time to see Bitch bursting into the room we were in just a second ago.

Bullet dodged! I'm not eager to test ourselves against her dogs, and I kind of like her. She's by far my favorite Undersider.

I turn to Taylor and--

Taylor--

With a dog in her arms.

The same corgi she was playing with.

"I--" She stutters, looks down at the dog, and then back at me. "I can explain this?"

I grab her by the arm and teleport away. Then again. And again.

The great thing about teleporters is that they don't leave behind a trail of smell for dogs to track, but these are power-enhanced dogs we're talking about! I'm so much not leaving anything to chance.

I keep teleporting us away from Bitch's lair and don't stop until I see a sign that reads 'Welcome to Captain's Hill'. Only now, with an entire city between us and a surely hysterical Bitch (in every sense of the word), I allow myself to rest.

"I'm sorry!" Taylor says again, sounding truly mortified.

Okay. Crisis averted. For now. I should stop panicking. Heart, I command you to stop beating so fast!

The dog whimpers in Taylor's arm.

Happy thoughts, Peter. Happy thoughts.

I raise an index which I point first at her, and then at the dog. "I'm not cleaning up after him." Underneath her balaclava, I can see her mouth hanging open in surprise. I think that wasn't what she was expecting to hear. "And I hope you understand the responsibilities that a dog entails. Especially one stolen from a supervillain." She nods, still not saying a word, and I can't take it anymore. I start laughing. "You crazy bitch! I can't believe you did that!"

Her mouth flaps open and close, Taylor still unsure of if I'm angry or not at her. I am. A tiny bit. But I still find the situation funny as all hell.

"It was an accident!"

"Yeah, tell that to the judge!" Oh, God, I'm still laughing. Better to get myself under control. "What are you naming him?"

Now that she knows I'm not making her give it back -not like we could, not without risking losing an arm- her shoulders relax. "I-- how does Long John sound?"

Oh, goddammit. I'm rolling my eyes so hard right now. "That's painful. That's so, so painful." Not that I can judge her considering I'd have named him Leman Russ.

"And fitting, isn't it?"

The name of the pirate who codified the parrots and the peg legs? "Oh, it most definitely is."

She hums to herself. "Think you can help him?"

Help him?

HELP HIM?!

Taylor, who do you even think you're talking to?!

"Ladybug, you offend me! I can give him traction wheels, internet connection, and missile launchers!"

"Hey, you are not cramming all that inside Long John! Steal your own dog for that!"

I start laughing again. This time Taylor joins me, and we don't stop until we're on the floor, without breath, and with our chests hurting.

Taylor pushes herself into a seated position and takes a deep breath. "So, that was Hellhound. She's with the Undersiders, isn't she?"

Oh, yes, Hellhound. The PG name that the PRT gave her. With so many awful names out there, why did they find the need to censor something as vanilla as Bitch?

"You know about them?"

She nods. "Between studying for Arcadia, I looked up information on all the factions of the Bay."

"You passed your exams, so I won't object."

"I needed a break alright?" She complains in good humor. "Of the Undersiders, she's the only member I found any information on. There's very little on Grue, and next to nothing on the other two members. I couldn't even find names."

I silently nod. Bitch is the only one the PRT has any information on, being a fugitive from outside the city with a kill to her name. A kill she had no control over as it happened during her trigger event, but the PRT doesn't know -and might not even care- about that.

"And she works at an animal shelter?" Taylor continues. "Why would she do that?"

"I'd say she firmly falls into the 'love animals more than humans' category. It also makes sense. I read a bit on her too and apparently she has been attacking the Empire, freeing dogs from their fight rings."

As if understanding what we're talking about, the dog -Long John- whimpers again, snuggling against Taylor's chest.

"I read on that too when I was looking up Hookwolf." Taylor scratches behind Long's ears, and the dog downright melts under her touch. "I didn't know what a bait dog was. I wish I could forget." Me too, Taylor. I don't want to think about how Long lost that leg. "Should we tell the PRT about the shelter?"

I don't want to. As I said, I like Bitch, and getting the PRT on her ass won't hurt Coil the same way getting to Tattletale would. I also want to say that the heroes have more pressing problems than dealing with a small timer like Bitch, but knowing the state the Bay is in? They'd want to parade any victory, no matter how insignificant it is.

"Have the Undersiders been doing anything major?" I ask, trying to be diplomatic.

"Not really." She shrugs. "I found an article about them robbing an ATM, and then a grocery store, but that was mostly it."

"Then my suggestion would be to let them be. As long as they don't start murdering people en-masse," Like the Empire, the ABB, and so many others, "They are more useful keeping the pressure on the other gangs."

"It still doesn't feel right."

"I leave the decision to you, but I'd say that the Empire is a bigger problem than the Undersiders. I think that the petty thieves can wait for after we have dealt with the Nazis."

She straightens up and looks at me with what I assume is surprise behind her mask. "Do you think we can take them? The Empire has been around since before I was born. Shit, they fought against the Teeth, Marquis, and the Slaughterhouse, and still won." Eh. The Slaughterhouse killed the Teeth and then left without really fighting the Empire, and then New Wave took Marquis down in some seriously fucked-up circumstances. "Do you believe that you and I can fight them?"

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Ladybug, I not only think we can fight, but I know we can utterly crush them." I want to see them trying to stop a mecha-zerg rush. "We just need time and preparation."

She goes quiet for a moment. "If they close Hellhound's shelter, what will happen to all the animals?"

"You already know the answer to that. You saw it in the fridge."

"Then I think that the Undersiders can wait."

An agreement reached, we headed back home.
 
Nuclear Fire 21
Nuclear Fire 21​

Last day of Deus Ex, and I find myself furiously typing in the HUD of my visor. The information I collected last night proved invaluable and helped me fix several kinks with the drones' program. Particularly those involving bones and foreign objects. I also check and double-check their protocols to ensure they never damage the brain or the information stored there.

That's very important as I don't want to accidentally turn people into vegetables. Because sure, vegetables are technically alive, just not really. The Drone needs to 'write-in' so it can properly link with the nervous system, but I don't want to give people amnesia or anything like that. Deleting any kind of information is an absolute no-go.

Talking about that, I have been checking the news but so far there's nothing about our incursion into the animal clinics and shelters. The vets must have already noticed the unnatural healing of their patients, so the PRT should have already been informed. Maybe they are keeping the information under wraps to keep people from panicking? Powers that can mess with biology always put the masses into a 'let's riot' mood.

My work gets interrupted by the sound of barking announcing Taylor's arrival. As I lift my eyes from my workstation I see her carrying Long John in her arms, with a bag over a shoulder.

"Hey, Peter, about the new leg for Long John--" Oh, yes, the dog's leg. That's another thing I should be working on. "I have some questions."

Ok, this sounds serious. I put my visor down and turn on my seat to look at her. "Ask away."

"Will it look like his original leg?"

I tap a finger against my chin, picturing in my head how the prosthetic leg would look on the corgi. "Of course not." Is my reply. "My power can't build implants that look like the original limbs." The central premise of Deus Ex was about how noticeable the implants were, and how small-minded people were scared of the new, superior version of themselves. Honestly, I don't think I'd give my implants the option to go unnoticed even if I could. I want to carry them in a proud display.

Taylor suddenly finds the floor deeply interesting as she looks down. I can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed by my answer, and that confuses me. "Does that mean I won't be able to take him out for walks?"

I blink in confusion. "What a strange question. That's the entire point of the implant, of course you--" But then I start thinking. If Taylor's seen with a cyborg dog, people will start asking questions. Questions that I don't want us to answer just yet. "I guess you could if you take him out dressed as Ladybug? He could be our team's mascot!"

"That's too dangerous." She clenches a fist against her chest. "What if a villain attacks us? Or what if dad or a neighbor sees him? I don't want to keep him locked in a closet when I'm not Ladybug."

Those are some valid points. I try to think about a solution but I can feel my power short-circuiting. "Maybe I could put something together? Some synthetic skin that mimics real skin." The more I think about it the more my head hurts. "My power's fighting against me," I say while rubbing my temples. "Maybe if I--"

"I-it's okay!" She interrupts waving her hands in front of my face. "I already thought about something!" Over the floor the deposits the content of the bag.

"What are you planning on doing with all this?" It's a strange contraption of straps, leather, and what might be the training wheel of a child's bike.

"Something I saw online." She sets Long John on the floor, "If I put this here, and this other part over there--" She ties the contraption to the dog's body, with the training wheel replacing the leg he's missing.

The corgi struggles against the bindings of his harness at first but then realizes that now he can stand on all fours. Well, three and a wheel. He barks happily before testing his new mobility. He does that by repeatedly smashing his body against one of the cardboard boxes scattered around the attic.

With Taylor, we laugh at his antics at first, but then panic when he comes too close to the stairs. Taylor thankfully manages to catch him before any accident can happen.

I could heal him if he fell down the stairs, but prevention is better than cure.

"See?" Taylor asks, Long licking her face. "What do you think?"

I struggle with my reply. On the one hand, I feel nothing but disdain towards the primitive solution to the problem. On the other, I feel warm pride blooming in my chest at Taylor's initiative. "May I suggest adding some spikes to that wheel?"

Taylor's reply consists of her sticking her tongue out at me.

"But seriously," I continue, "I commend your handiwork. But any reason you wanted to do it this way?" She had the harness ready, so it looks fairly obvious that asking for my opinion in the matter was nothing more than a cordiality.

Taylor shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "You always come with these great inventions to fix everything. I just wanted to do something on my own, you know? And this is something I can do! I have been reading on how to help wounded dogs and, well, this was the result."

In another life, in another world without powers, Taylor would have been well on her way to being a vet. That and adopting every stray animal she finds on the side of the street.

I feel like blushing. Despite everything, Taylor was still feeling a bit jealous of my power. At least she's focusing that jealousy into productive endeavors.

"Tell me if you need help with anything. And, hey! Now you can present Long to Danny!" I say with a smile already suspecting the answer to that.

"Oh, no! I don't want to freak him out." Yep, there it is. "We're already struggling with money enough without having to worry about dog food." Let's add yet another item to my 'to fix' list. "For now I'll keep Long hidden. It's not like dad spends much time at home as it is, right?"

I release a sigh. "Right."

Oh, Taylor, why do you still try to solve all your problems by hiding them under the rug? I thought you had already learned from my example! You solve your problems by burning them down.

But, well, I don't think that burning Danny is an option.

Not for now at least, but who knows what the future might bring?



With the information from the animal testing fully analyzed and integrated, our objective for the rest of the day is to heal some people. And so, to celebrate my upcoming new tree, we're going on a tour across several hospitals.

We're starting here, at a public hospital located a block away from the southern ferry station. The same ferry station that Danny has been trying -and failing- to revive for years.

It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon. That's well within the visiting hour for the Intermediate Care Unit, so we'll have to be careful when visiting there, but Intensive Care should be free for us to roam.

"How are we doing this?" Taylor asks, seated next to me under the shade of an air conditioner.

A human hospital will be far more difficult to infiltrate than an animal one, mostly because humans can communicate and remember our presence better than animals can.

Also, people tend to get pissier if one tries new medical procedures in humans than in animals. No matter how well they work.

Oh, well, it's not like I care about the uneducated masses' opinion.

"We move only by teleportation," With a wave of my hand I gesture at the different wings of the hospital. "Avoid corridors at all cost, and only teleport into rooms that have sleeping people in them, alright?"

Her reply is a sharp nod.

Turns out that finding sleeping people isn't that hard. Most of these rooms don't even have a TV, and those few that exist are out of service. Because of this, and with little else to do, patients that don't receive frequent visits end up sleeping a lot.

Our first destination is a room occupied by a woman.

Jesus Christ! How is it that her own snores don't wake her up? Seriously, it sounds like she swallowed a chainsaw instead of-- well, instead of whatever the hell happened to her. She has both legs in casts, and Atlas' quick diagnosis tells me both ankles are broken.

Come on, another one? First the dog last night and now this. Is someone going around the Bay breaking people's and animals' legs?

"She has a daughter." Taylor points out looking at the night table. There's a children's drawing wishing 'mom' a quick recovery. I see a tall sticks figurine with long hair holding a shorter sticks figurine in her arms.

"Let's help with their reunion, shall we?" And as I say that, I set Atlas on the woman's chest, an action that makes Taylor jump.

"Won't that wake her up?"

"Don't worry, Atlas' keeping her sedated." Indeed, one of his legs has turned into a needle that's now connected to the woman's arm as if it was an IV drip. She remains peacefully asleep while Atlas works, first cutting the case open and then fusing with her legs to mend the bones. This time there are no wrongly-angled bones, no sir. We both learned from that mistake.

Atlas detaches once his job is done and I pick him up in my arms.

We kind of look like Taylor and Long John, don't we?

"Is it done?" Taylor whispers, hovering over the woman.

"It is. Our first human healed." The pulse is stable, the brain activity is normal, and once the anesthesia loses its effect she'll wake up in perfect health. Or at least in better health than she was ten minutes ago.

"That's nice. Next one?"

"Absolutely."

Our next destination is the Intensive Care Unit. We sadly can't do much here as most patients are in a common room supervised by a team of medics, but there are a couple of private rooms for what must be the more delicate -and paying- patients.

The first is a younger man who's being drained after surviving a sepsis. It's kind of uncomfortable to see the hose coming out of his ribcage and into a drainage.

All the nasty fluid is pumped out, some light vein reconstruction is applied, and that's two people healed.

Next comes a woman connected to a respirator. According to her chart, she suffered some complications due to pneumonia and now needs treatment for the inflammation of her lungs.

It takes Atlas less than a minute to heal her, and with that, we have three.

Okay, I'm all pumped up! I'm in 'the zone'. Who else? Give me another one!

We reach the room of a young man, heavily sedated and with multiple cardiac monitors around the room. This looks more serious than the previous cases. Did he suffer a heart attack? I don't think so, he looks far too young for that.

Oh, well, I set Atlas on his chest and wait for the drone to do his magic.

And wait.

And wait.

And then wait a bit more.

This can't be good.

"What's the problem?" Taylor may not know much about tinkertech but even she realizes that this isn't normal.

"I'm not sure. Atlas has never taken this long to finish a diagnosis." I wait some more time and then a message flares over my visor. "Error?" I can barely contain my surprise. There's a problem with the man's heart, that Atlas has established, but for some reason he can't heal it. I check the man's chart.

Oh--

Ohhhh, yes, that makes sense.

"So?" I feel Taylor's stare over my shoulder.

"According to this, the guy here suffers from a congenital genetic disease. His heart's failing and Atlas can't fix that because he can't modify the DNA." At least not yet, not just with Deus Ex technology. I'll need more. "The medics are waiting for a donor. That or a gravedigger, whatever happens first."

"Shit." Taylor curses, throwing nervous glances at the man. "Anything we can do?"

I release a sigh, looking at his face. He looks so fragile, yet isn't older than twenty-five.

There is, indeed, something we can do. But it's an option I'm not sure about pursuing. If we do this, the Protectorate will ramp up our threat assessment by several levels. "I could order Atlas to replace the heart."

I can almost picture Taylor's expression of surprise under her mask. "He can do that?"

I nod. "As I said, the heart's problems run too deep. Atlas can't 'fix' it, so the option is to just replace it."

"O-okay," She stutters. "What's the problem then? Can't he just detach once they get a donor and a new heart for the guy?"

I run the calculations through my head. This isn't like turning into an armor. When a drone does that it's just enhancing what's already there. Not this time.

"He can't. Such a transformation would be too extensive with far too many parts repurposed beyond the turning point. It'll lose its ability to revert into a drone once it's done."

Taylor scratches the back of her neck as she walks back and forth, maybe running through her head the same scenarios I already ran through mine.

This is big.

This is very, very big. I'll be losing a drone, leaving behind a big piece of my tech for potential enemies to analyze, and people will soon start screaming 'Nilbog this' and 'Bonesaw that'.

I wouldn't mind waking up and finding a jet engine in place of my heart, but I sadly know that most people won't see it that way. I really don't want to deal with their bitching and moaning.

This could be such a big headache.

But we'd be saving a life.

"Maybe they found a donor." Taylor offers.

I shrug. "I don't know. And do you know how hard it is to find a heart donor?" I mean, if he was mega rich he could get one in the black market, but if he was mega rich I doubt he'd be in this hospital.

"Maybe they got Panacea to come and help?"

"Again, I don't know. I don't know her schedule or if she even knows this place exists." She should, shouldn't she? Doesn't she visit all the hospitals? And this should be something she could easily fix, right?

But I remember reading that modifying organs to be accepted by patients was extremely hard for her. That was the reason why she couldn't just 'fix' Armsmaster after Leviathan and then Mannequin. That and her own spite, of course. But that suggests that even with Panacea around, people still need transplants.

Maybe she can't just heal genetic diseases? Or maybe she doesn't want to try. She doesn't want to play with brains and DNA might even be more delicate than that.

"Don't all tinkers need to maintain their equipment? That's why they can't just mass-produce it, right? What happens when the new heart needs maintenance?"

Taylor's grasping for any straw trying to find an excuse not to do this.

I understand her. I kind of want her to find one? We're about to step into a massive minefield here, one I'll be dragging her into.

"I'm not most tinkers," I say with a bitter chuckle. "I created the Drones with the capacity to piggyback on the human healing system. The patient will get more hungry, but by all accounts the implant will last all his life."

"What if it malfunctions?"

"You mean like his biological heart is already doing?" I spit bitterly, and her shoulders drop. "I know my tech. I trust my tech. I know it won't just malfunction." Right now I don't like my power being this broken.

How long have we been here? Any moment now the first woman we healed will be waking up, and people will notice that something parahuman-related has happened.

We need to reach a decision fast.

"Okay, okay." Taylor takes a deep breath. "What are the worst-case scenarios?"

There are many bad scenarios here. But the worst one? "If we replace his heart with tinkertech, we risk the Protectorate hunting us down for performing illegal experimentation on humans." We won't be killing anyone, quite the contrary, but we -or better said, I- will be announcing that we can do what Nilbog and Bonesaw already did. That will make a lot of people nervous. This isn't kill-order worthy, but one will get pre-approved.

"And if we don't?"

"If we don't," I don't want to say it. "And neither Panacea nor a new heart arrives on time," I really, really don't want to say it. "Then he dies." There. I said it.

Taylor looks at me and then at the man.

She might be thinking about the family that's hoping against hope that he recovers. About the parents, grandparents, and siblings that he'll be leaving behind. A girlfriend perhaps? A son is not out of the question.

None of them deserve this.

At least I don't think any of them do, otherwise this dilemma is utterly pointless.

"How much time do we have to decide?"

Far too little. "The medics can't tell. With a disease like his, he could have weeks or just hours."

She clenches her fists. Then slowly unclenches them, shaking her head. "I'd sleep better with the Protectorate after our heads than knowing that we could have saved a life but didn't."

And there it is! The ugly truth that makes me very uncomfortable. "I too would sleep better that way. And if it makes you feel better, they'll be going after me, not you."

"No. If we do this, I'm taking the blame too." She shrugs. "I don't know, I'll just tell them I forced you into it or something like that. I'll say it was my stupid idea."

I smile. "There's a saying: if your idea saves a life, then it's the best damn idea you ever had in your life."

There's nothing else to say after that. Quoting a famous movie: the decision had already been made, it was just a matter of accepting it.

I give Atlas IV his final orders. He digs into the man's chest, 'eating' the faulty heart away and reconfiguring his metallic body into a replacement. It's a nasty, bloody affair. The alarms start sounding as the monitors can no longer detect the pulse of his new heart.

We're long gone when the medical team breaks into the room, surprised by the fully awake and conscious person instead of the corpse they were probably expecting to find.



"Do you think we did the right thing?" Taylor asks, pulling her mask up to take a bite off her sandwich.

We're standing on top of a water tower, our legs hanging from the edge as we stare into the sea. The smell of salty water is penetrating, and the sound of distant seagulls comes followed by that of crashing waves.

"I don't even doubt it." I pull a second sandwich from our backpack, which I promptly start eating as well.

"I hope people can appreciate it then."

They won't. "If they do or don't, I can't bring myself to care. We did the right thing and that's what matters." I also got a lot of juicy information that I'll later upload to the rest of the colony. Atlas IV's sacrifice won't be in vain!

"So, should we go back home and pick another drone to continue?"

I honestly don't know. The plan was to visit at least three hospitals and heal dozens of people, that's why we started so early, but we ended up sacrificing the drone after healing only three.

"I say yes to picking another Drone, but no to continuing our excursion." Knowing our bleeding hearts, we'll probably end up sacrificing that one too at the first sign of a troublesome case. Why can't humans be like animals? If a dog had arrived with a genetic disease, he'd been simply put down. "We might want to wait a couple of days and see how people react to this before we continue healing." I also want to build up the colony. I need numbers.

"That sounds like a good idea. So, patrol?"

I could spend my last hours in Deus Ex programming some extra stuff, but I already have all I could get. Even with the Hatchery I simply lack the time to build anything meaningful.

"Patrol it is."

I doubt we could find another of Coil's hideouts, and neither the ABB nor the Empire are gangs I want us to antagonize yet.

Merchants, then. Yeah, let's go hunt down some Merchants. Maybe beating up some people that deserve it will improve my mood.
 
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Nuclear Fire 22
Nuclear Fire 22​

"Yes, dad, but-- I understand, don't worry, we're all girls here. Well, except for Peter but he doesn't count."

I raise an eyebrow at that, not sure if I should feel offended or not.

"Ugh, dad! That was terrible. Yes, I'll tell him that. I love you too. Bye." Taylor hangs her phone. Well, not exactly 'hangs' but cuts the connection that her visor had established. She then turns to look at me. "Dad wanted me to tell you: 'Hail Mary'."

"Excuse me?"

"Blessed are thou among women."

I feel the need to slam my palm against my forehead. "Let's just move on with our patrol."

Danny was home when we returned from the hospital, but we didn't let him see us so as not to provoke unwanted questions. We just loaded up and exited through teleportation. After that we called him using our visors and told him a small lie: we had stumbled upon a friend of mine from Clarendon and her older sister, who invited us to the movies. Things moved on from there.

As we walk through the roofs I notice Taylor stumbling every other step. "How does the armor feel?"

"Weird. But I'm getting accustomed to it."

Underneath her clothes, Taylor is wearing a mesh of interlinked larvas, with a Drone at her chest protecting her vital organs. For my part, I'm wearing two drones, one on my chest for protection, and another around my arm for utility.

Four drones remain working back home, their number having raised to a total of seven since yesterday.

And it could have been eight if we just hadn't—

No, no. Happy thoughts. What's done is done and there's no reason to keep dwelling on it.

The breeze over the roofs make the tranquilizer rifle clink against Taylor's shoulder, and she has to stop to tie it properly. Only a couple darts remain and in the near future, I'll need to turn one of the drones into a dispenser to replenish them. "I'm kind of surprised that Dad's okay with us staying after dark."

"He must just be happy that you're spending more time outside the house." A sliver of trust that we're spitting on by not telling him about our secret double-lives.

The life of a masked vigilante is a cruel one like that, but it has its appeals. There's no 'wrong' way to pummel a gang member into a bloody pulp, just the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. You just do it and move on.

Well, some would say that there is a wrong way to do it and that we shouldn't be cruel and unusual, but I don't care about those people's opinions.

Now, technically the Merchants don't have a territory of their own. Yes, they hang around the Archer Bridge area, but you can find their dealers all over the city.

They are cockroaches. They slip through the cracks, taking residence in the darker corners of the lawless areas, popping up whenever you stop looking at them. But it's generally accepted that if you want to find them, you go to the fringe zone between the docks and Downtown, all the way up North to the Trainyard.

This is the no-man's land where most gang battles take place between the ABB and the Empire. This is the place that the Blacks, the Latinos, the Arabs, and all those that can't seek help from the white or Asian gangs, call home.

That's at least what the internet tells me.

I also find some old news about some token attempts to push them out, but to what end exactly? Skidmark and Squealer have survived by virtue of rarely fighting back. They flee at the first sign of a coordinated attack and then return once whoever attacked them realizes that they simply can't hold their territories. Not without some serious investment in manpower to keep under control a population that doesn't trust the bigger organizations of the bay. Gangs and law enforcement alike.

It's simply not worth the investment.

But if there's a silver lining in all this mess, is that patrolling around the poorest part of the city ensures that finding trouble is easy.

As we land on an apartment block, Taylor raises an open palm. "An argument. A very ugly one."

It might just be nothing, or might be the prelude of someone attacking another person. Better to make sure that nothing ugly happens.

As we approach, my visor manages to filter the argument through the ambient sound and I get a clear idea of what's going on. Not like I really need my Visor to do that because the argument can be heard from across the street.

"And now you come to shit on me? Just go crawling back to your father, you ungrateful bitch!" Oh, that doesn't sound good.

"I'm surprised you even remember I have a father with how high you are!" Wait, I know that voice.

I rush to the edge of the roof. I hear Taylor asking me something, but I'm not paying her any attention.

"You're lucky that Donny isn't here."

"Oh, so it's Donny now? What happened to Lissy, Bridge, and Hector? If you want to slap me, you should grow a pair and do it yourself!"

Everything's happening in an apartment on the third floor. Two people are in it, one an older woman who seems to be in her 30s, and a girl of just 13.

"Maybe I will!" The woman, seated on a couch, tries but fails to push herself up.

My visor detects several syringe marks all over her arm, and some homemade cigarettes scattered all over the place.

"Oh, please. You can't even stand up!"

The woman shows her daughter the middle finger, and the girl turns around to leave. She slams the door in her way out with enough force that the blow resonates all across the building.

That's when I notice that Taylor has been shaking my shoulder.

"Tech-Priest, are you alright?"

I-- how do I explain this?

"That's Aisha, one of my classmates."

"I'm surprised that you actually know her name."

Well, she was a fan favorite around the community. An utter bitch but an endearing one, unlike Sophia.

"I knew her family situation was bad, but-- shit."

"And was that her mother?"

I nod.

Aisha exits the apartment complex and heads south. On her way, she's stopped by a bunch of teenagers seated in an alley. They look close to their 20s, and one of them wears a shirt with a bright 'M' painted on it. I don't know if they are actual merchants or just stupid teenagers trying to look tough, but I don't want to take risks and label them in my visor as potential targets.

One of them approaches Aisha and Taylor readies her sword, but then the wannabe gangster is taken aback by the younger girl threatening to do some colorful things to his privates with a rusty shaving razor. The boy with the Merchant shirt -the leader, apparently- breaks down in laughter and orders the other to back down. He says that he found Aisha's threat 'endearing' and will allow her to continue unimpeded for now.

Emphasis on 'for now' but at least Aisha is left alone.

"I'm starting to see why you two get along," Taylor comments as we follow her to the bus stop, and remain there until she has taken one back to her father's home. At least I hope that's where she's going. Whatever the case, it seems that my worries were unwarranted. Aisha can take care of herself.

"So, when are you going to invite her home?"

I ignore Taylor's teasing, dismissing her comment with a wave of my hand.

"I'm not interested in her in that way. Now let's move on. We have things to do."

Taylor does nothing but hum in amusement at my concern, and we continue with the patrol.

Ironically, a problem with patrolling around the ugly part of the city means that we don't really know what's worthy of our attention. We hear the sound of broken glass and it's just some children throwing stones at an abandoned building. Then we see what might be a gang fight but it's just a couple kids punching each other while their peers cheer. Apparently because of a girl. Both are very much illegal things, but far from what one would consider cape-worthy. If I start tazing every teenager who does something stupid to impress his friends, I'm never going to stop.

We think we found something when we hear the sound of sirens, but when we reach the location of the commotion -a liquor store- we're too late. Listening in with our visors we hear that the robbery happened half an hour ago, and of the assailants, there are no traces left.

Once again I'm wishing for Drone coverage. Without good scouting of the area, we're stumbling in blind trying to find anything to stop.

Come on, I just want some valid release for my pent-up violence! Is that so much to ask for?

It's way past ten in the evening when Taylor stops me once again. "Okay, I think I have something."

I'm seriously envious of Taylor's power. As useful as my visor is, Taylor's awareness of the area is unmatched, and she can detect chemicals in a way that my visor might never be able to replicate.

"It's this smell-- the one you find in nail polishers. In a massive amount," She rubs her chin. "I have the name on the tip of my tongue. It's one of the few things I actually learned in Winslow."

"Acetone?"

"Yes! That one."

I frown. Acetone could mean many things. We might have stumbled upon a warehouse full of nail polishers, but it also serves as a base ingredient for many kinds of drugs.

"Anything else?"

"Many smells, but I don't know what most of them are. It reminds me of Winslow's lab--" She suddenly goes still. "Shit. One of my bugs died when it got too close to the source of one of those smells."

This definitely is worth investigating. "Lead the way."

Our destination is an abandoned bus depot with a yard big enough to accommodate some 20 buses. The cannibalized chassis of busses dot the place and the offices are devoid of human life, with rats, and other vermin being their only occupants.

The mechanical workshop is next to the yard and is big enough to accommodate some 10 buses at the same time. At first glance, it also looks abandoned, with the doors barred and the windows covered with cardboard and black paint. My visor, though, tells another story.

"Bingo. Good job, Ladybug."

Against a wall, there are rows and rows of jerricans, propane tanks, and other containers for a variety of liquids and gases. In the middle of the garage, there are multiple tables, each one full of chemical equipment, with dozens of people working on them. Some of them are armed, and some of them aren't. Most are wearing bandanas or face masks in an attempt to filter the fumes.

Yeah, this is most definitely a Merchant Meth lab. And a big one on top of that.

In a back room, there's a man seated at a desk, with two armed guards at each side of his chair. He has a scale -a traditional one with weights, not electronic- that he's using to fractionate their production into small plastic bags. He doesn't look like Skidmark. Too old for once, and isn't wearing a mask.

Outside his office, there's a line of four people waiting for him, all carrying backpacks. One is allowed in, and from her backpack, she pulls out what looks like a pencil case. The man at the desk opens it to reveal the content: lots and lots of money. He counts it, puts it inside a safe, and then gives the dealer several packages of drugs for her to sell.

We see all that while Taylor amasses her swarm. "What are we doing with that money?"

"We're keeping it, of course."

She hums to herself in deep thought. "Okay. I have red ants, spiders, and wasps." A nice collection of things to deliver a nasty sting.

If we had a laser rifle we could just aim for the gas tanks and see the entire place go up in flames. Sadly we don't so the hands-on approach will have to do.

"Let's do this then."

The Merchants are most definitely not Coil. The thugs are armed with conventional firearms and don't look like professional soldiers, so there isn't much to plan here. It's just a matter of going in and hitting them as hard as we can.

We teleport into the back office, where the boss and the last dealer are arguing about payment. The argument is cut short by the Darkcoil that incapacitates all the enemies in the room. I move to help Taylor zip-tie them while screams resonate all around the lab, courtesy of Taylor's bugs.

Now comes the time to test how good my drone is. With a mental command, I transform my hand into a plasma saw that I push into the safe. It opens as if it was made of wet cardboard.

Now that's what I'm talking about!

And there's money. There's so much money. Even Taylor looks impressed as I start shoveling it into our backpack, but that's when the first sign that something's wrong comes around.

"Oh, Shit," Taylor curses and teleports away.

Confused and worried, I search for her, trying to find the source of the problem. It's easy to find once I see the steadily growing form of what I can best describe as a golem made of trash. That's Mush, now taller than a person and a half, using his power to latch to all the scattered debris that surrounds him to form protective armor.

Shit. He must have been one of the guards supervising the work here.

Taylor teleports behind him and unleashes the power of the Darkcoil, but the tendrils of energy travel harmlessly over the armor only to discharge over the floor. Mush's armor has grown too thick for the Darkcoil to affect the person inside, and it's only getting bigger.

Mush swings an arm, forcing Taylor to jump back. A claw-like piece of broken glass shatters against her protected torso, but another bites into her thigh, just where the armor doesn't reach.

"Ladybug!" I scream, and in a flash of light, Taylor teleports to my side, bleeding profusely from the wound.

"Healing." She groans.

My arm transforms into a dozen of tiny pincers and needles that latch to Taylor's side, closing the wound. Thankfully for us, Mush hasn't noticed that we're in here and has broken through one of the walls to search for Taylor outside. The other guards, too, have scattered, abandoning their weapons in a mad dash away from the bugs and the increasingly dangerous parahuman fight.

That means we can escape and no one will be the wiser.

"Ok, done," I tell Taylor, my drone having finished with her wound. "We should—"

She doesn't let me finish as she teleports away, ready to resume her battle against Mush.

That blasted woman! What is she doing?

"Ladybug!" I call her through my visor. "We need to get out of here!" We disrupted Merchant operations, hurt several gang members, and even stole a lot of their money. We don't need to fight a Parahuman who has more experience than both of us combined! Especially not one that's already close to four meters tall!

Just listen to me!

"I can do this!" She pants as she dodges another swing. "I can take Mush down!"

Shit, shit, shit! I need to help her, but what can I do? Mush has grown too big for a bullet to pierce his armor. My buzzsaw! It can cut right through him! But how the fuck do I get close enough?

The blink band recharged, Taylor teleports behind Mush and stabs him in the back of the leg. The Merchant cape falls to a knee, screaming in pain with the Psy Blade having cleanly cut through his armor.

Maybe-- maybe she can do this.

Good one Tay--

That's when a warning flares through my visor, an incoming projectile having been detected. Except it's not a projectile but a flying woman surrounded by a corona of bright light that offers a sharp contrast against the night sky.

"Ladybug, get out of there! Purity's here!"

The ex-Empire 88 aims a hand at Mush and shoots a blast of energy that scorches the side of his armor. Taylor gets out of the way just as Mush hurls himself back into the meth lab, seeking refuge from Purity's barrage.

He just happens to land on top of the propane tanks.

Fuck me.

I grab the bag of money and jump through the back window just as Purity resumes her attack.

And then there's a loud explosion, and I find myself flying for a second before landing hard against the ground.

My ears ring, and everything below my neck feels numb as my visor shows a list with all the injuries that my drones are currently fixing.

"Tech-priest! Tech-priest!"

Taylor's at my side, desperately calling for my name. Her costume has been trashed, some edges sporting burn marks, and I realize that we're no longer in the street but on top of a nearby building.

Sensations slowly return to me and I stand up, realizing that my costume, too, has been reduced to ribbons.

"Ladybug?" I call for Taylor, who locks me in a strong hug.

"Oh, God. I was so worried! I saw you flying like that and was scared that something had happened to you."

We're no longer on the street, we're on a nearby roof and there's a piercing sound that makes me think of a jet engine with laryngitis.

What in the name of all fuck is that?

Purity is fighting a mechanical monstrosity that looks like something taken out of Twisted Metal. It's the unholy Mad-Maxian fusion of an ice-cream truck and a Bradley Fighting Vehicle. Just even more unnecessarily bloated with stuff, if that was even possible.

Mush is clinging to the back of the vehicle, hurling debris at Purity.

A blast of energy gets deflected by a shimmering barrier, and the vehicle counter-attacks with the turret mounted on top of her contraption.

"That's Squealer," Taylor explains. "She arrived after Purity."

A column of smoke is rising from the remains of the met lab and Purity is zig-zagging all over the place like a mutated firefly. One that can shoot building-busting energy beams.

Squealer might be a professional driver thanks to her power, but that doesn't make her a good shooter and her attacks keep missing, allowing Purity to continue with her barrage. Not like they can do much against Squealer's shields.

"Do you have any bugs inside that tank?"

Taylor shakes her head. "Some mosquitos, but that's all. And there's not enough room inside that thing for me to teleport in."

Maybe she doesn't need to teleport in? I identify what looks like a fuel line. If Taylor stabs it-- the entire thing would detonate with Taylor next to it. Bad idea.

Purity seems to have given up on trying to destroy the tank directly and is aiming now at the street, maybe hoping to lock it in place.

Yeah, there's nothing we can do here. We don't have anything that can realistically take any of the combatants down, so we better leave while we can.

We contributed with the destruction of a Merchant meth lab and got a lot of money in the process, so I'm going to count this as a victory for us.

On our way out we hear the sound of sirens in the distance.



"So that's what a true cape fight looks like in person," Taylor says as we make our way back home. We have stopped teleporting and are just walking over the roofs, trying to enjoy the night and not wanting to arrive there just yet.

"Scary, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

Our costumes were practically destroyed but our equipment remains intact. Mostly thanks to the work of the Drones.

That was a fierce reminder of what the true heavy hitters of the Bay can do.

And shit, Squealer's considered one of the weakest tinkers around and Purity couldn't punch through her shields! And considering that she was leaving craters in the street with each attack-- not even a Mecha Hydralisk could match Purity in sheer firepower. Maybe an Ultralisk could?

I wonder how many Merchants survived. The four that we knocked in the office most probably didn't.

"How many times have I messed up already?" Taylor mumbles, looking away. "And this time I almost got you killed."

Yeah, she very much did.

I had forgotten about that fact. One that I haven't fully internalized yet.

I release a sigh. "None of us could have expected Purity's arrival." I thought her main focus was the ABB. Her moving in to attack the Merchants was a nasty surprise. "Or her shooting into a building without knowing what's inside said building." And she wonders why people don't accept her as a hero. Yet all that doesn't change the fact that she ended up saving us because if she hadn't been there then Squealer would have focussed on us. "But yes, next time I tell you we have to retreat, please listen. I'm your spotter here."

"Sorry."

"That's my job, you know? What you don't see, I might, and so I can warn you. But I need you to trust me for that." She mumbles something under her breath that I can't understand. "But it's not just your fault." I shrug. "I need mobility. I shouldn't depend on you to move around, and be left stranded whenever you aren't there for me."

For the first time since Coil's warehouse I wonder what we're even doing here. She's a teenage girl and I'm an adult inside the body of a child. None of us got any formal training, and we try to fight against criminal gangs? Why would we do such a thing?

Well, because that's the only thing that gives a semblance of meaning and emotion to our sad, lonely lives. Our own survival be damned.

At the end of the day, we enjoy doing this.

Oh, I can't really remain angry at her. She's the only person I interact with here and it's not like I hold my own life in such a high regard. If anything, her not listening to me, not trusting me, was the part that hurt the most.

"Maybe your next tree will give you something that can fix that." Taylor finally says after a moment of silence.

"I'll have to wait and see."

"Want me to buy stuff for you with the money we got? I could do that while you're in Clarendon."

When I'm in--

I blink at her in confusion. "Taylor, from Monday you'll be going to Arcadia."

And now she looks sadder than before. "I had forgotten about that."

"You forgot the reason why you spent this last week studying?"

"A lot has been going on."

I pat her on the back. "Oh, Ladybug, you and--" And alarm flashes over my visor, announcing that midnight is upon us. "Wait."

"Is it time?"

I nod. "Give me a sec." It still feels as if my brain's spinning inside my head but this time I'm better prepared for it.

It hurts. It truly hurts to lose all I had on Deus Ex, but I knew it'd eventually happen.

In its place I receive-- modules. Cards. Powers in the shape of cards, each one a module that can be installed into different human bodies to give them different effects.

There's the power of flight, of controlling classical greek elements, shadows and light. Also flowers?

Fucking bubbles?

And most of them are represented by human forms.

Magic wands! My power allows me to create magic wands and staves that would allow me to control the different 'cards'.

I think I know what this tree is. The only things missing are-- there they are! Dresses. Dozens upon dozens of dresses, each one more frilly than the last.

"So, what did you get this time?" Taylor asks me quietly, maybe still unsure if I'm angry at her or not.

I don't want her to remain like that. How do I show her that I'm not angry? Okay, idea. Do I have Tomoyo's knowledge of dressmaking in here? Yes, I do!

"How many pastel colors do you own?" I ask.

"Eh?"

"In fact, when was the last time you wore anything that wasn't grey or brown?"

With that, I make Taylor crack a smile.

"Great. Last time you insulted my eyes and now you insult my wardrobe. You'll never get a girlfriend that way."

"Those relationships have far too high a maintenance cost for my taste."

"Let's wait and see if you keep thinking that when you're 15."

Oh, boy, I already went through that and I'm not looking forward to it. But let's focus on surviving the year first.

A bit less cranky we head back home. Now I need to think about what to do with Cardcaptor Sakura.
 
Nuclear Fire 23
Nuclear Fire 23​

UNDERSIDERS ATTACK LUNG'S HOLDINGS

The bold, green letters of the announcement flash over my visor, sending a chill down my spine.

That's the hottest new thread in the Brockton Bay's section of PHO. A thread that goes on to discuss yesterday night's events when the Undersider successfully robbed one of Lung's safehouses.

The attack is public knowledge, and that's making the dragon unfathomably angry. Adding insult to injury, that was just one of several embarrassments that he suffered yesterday.

The Undersiders didn't attack alone, with several other coordinated strikes having been launched all over ABB territory. Oni Lee was hurt during his fight against the Undersiders, and that took away Lung's sole way of projecting power. Without his teleporter, the leader of the ABB was too slow to reach the areas of conflict before the attackers were long gone.

The information on the thread also gives me an idea of why Purity got herself involved with the Merchants. It seems that she had bombarded some ABB position earlier that day, and was making her way back to wherever she lives when she stumbled upon us, deciding to help out of the goodness of her heart.

This all makes zero sense.

Checking the calendar, yesterday should have been the day that the Undersiders attacked the Ruby Casino, a week before Taylor's canonical debut, but that should have been a very low-key operation. As far as I know, no one even heard about that one in canon.

And then there's Purity's involvement. As I remember, she was getting progressively more frustrated with her lack of lasting success against the ABB. Her old contacts weren't talking to her, she couldn't find good information on the ABB, and that was one of the things that Kaiser used to bring her back into the fold. But this news here suggests that she delivered a serious hit, blowing up multiple weapon depots.

And then there are all the other attacks.

Due to Purity's involvement people are already claiming that the E88 was behind this, despite no official announcement or sighting of any other Empire member.

This is not them.

Purity shouldn't have returned to Kaiser yet, and the presence of the Undersiders suggests that Coil is involved.

I don't like this.

"Did you see the news?" Taylor asks me as I walk into the living room. Long John is on her lap, having his belly rubbed.

I nod.

"They are saying that a new gang war is about to begin."

The TV is droning about the battles in the docks, the damage, and the casualties. Also about how people should remain calm as the PRT is ramping up their patrols around the place.

That does sound like a nice distraction if you want the heroes focused there and not anywhere else in the city.

"Anything about us?" I ask her as I see that one of the images' shown is that of the Merchant Meth Lab.

"No. They claim that Purity was the one to destroy the lab."

Well, she was, and this is convenient to keep our anonymity, but I can't but feel a pang of anger at not having our participation properly credited.

"And the hospital?"

"The same."

PHO isn't talking about it either. The presence of PRT personnel was noticed, and there are photos of Armsmaster at the place, but the main theory is that someone triggered in the ICU.

At least those photos give me a reason to believe that my tech is now with Armsmaster, something that I don't mind that much. There are far worse options there.

"So, what will you build now?" With a swipe of the remote, Taylor turns the TV off.

Isn't that a good question? I spent a mostly sleepless night just thinking about what I should build.

The Cardcaptors tree is kind of weird. I have picture-perfect images in my head of the cards as I remember them: as pieces of paper with spells written on them. I know there's something there, but when I try to replicate them, my power just fizzles. If I were to compare it with something, it would be compared to trying to flex a limb that doesn't exist.

But I know it exists! I can feel it. My power doesn't, though, and it's trying to translate the problem into a language it understands. I think that the issue here is that shards don't have the concept of 'magic' or conceptual energies, and so mine settles with duplicating the effects of the show with tinkertech.

The result is something that in my mind looks like a solid-state drive with the pictures of the cards stamped on them. Once activated by the wand, they take shape in the form of hard-light constructs. In that way, something like The Fly would materialize as bright wings on the back of the user.

All in all, I'm surprised that it's so-- well, no, cheap isn't the correct word. The cards, as my power offers to build them, are absurdly complex programs shoved into a crystalline matrix next to a compact power source. The Khaydarin can fulfill both purposes once I've given it a couple of days to regrow, but in terms of time, I'll need days to properly program, compile, and debug each card.

"As I told you I want to focus on my own mobility." I don't want to depend on Taylor anymore, and if I'm right I'll be able to upgrade my drones with the cards too. "I have a module that can enhance my jumping capabilities and another that can grant me flight."

Taylor perks up at that.

"Flight? That sounds useful." Yeah, she always wanted to fly. One of her childhood dreams as I remember. One I should be able to fulfill now.

"I'll need a couple of days of set-up before building it, so in the meantime, I was thinking of visiting some pawn shops for resources." The drones have been doing a great job bringing me iron and copper, but if I want something like rare earths, silver, or gold, I need to steal or buy it.

"Oh, I was thinking of going out to buy some more stuff for Arcadia. Want to come with me?"

Well, not much I can do at home right now beyond watching my Khaydarin grow and my drones reproduce, so why not?

"Sure, let's go."



I swear that my powers are bullshit.

Oh, the part of taking concepts from fictional settings and letting me build them with modern-day technology is perfectly understandable. I'm fine with that. The issue is what it takes from those fictional universes.

Case in point: as I walk down the boardwalk with Taylor next to me, I glance at a showcase with several dresses and my power goes into overdrive.

I recognize the quality of the fiber, the types of embroidery, and even the way each color clashes with each other. I know that one was sewed with a lockstitch while that other was sewed with an overlock stitch. I have no idea what those are, I just know it.

For some reason, my power decided that Tomoyo's sewing knowledge was important, and so it was shoved into my head.

Last night I didn't mind that much as I used that knowledge to joke with Taylor, but now that I had time to think about it I have concerns for my power's thought-processes.

"A moment." I stop Taylor as we walk past a particular shop.

"What is it?"

The shop in question is named 'The Sewing Grandmas'. A name that I feel is fairly self-explanatory.

Can I make this work? It's stupid. Something to satisfy my own vain ego and little else. But we do need new uniforms, and a good base will make adding armor and other tools easier. If I make it look good, all the better.

"Let's go in here."

The one to receive us is most definitely not a grandma, and the young woman immediately zeroes into Taylor. "Hello, customer! How can I help you?"

Taylor flinches and solves the problem by dumping it on me. "Actually, he's the one who wants to buy things."

The girl eyes me as if she isn't sure if this is a joke or not.

"I demand a sewing kit and basket with tiny skulls glued to it!" I announce.

"We-- have one with Armsmaster's logo?"

That man puts his face on everything!

But yeah, what the hell? I'll take it.

To that, I add several square meters of fabrics of different colors and qualities and a portable sewing machine.

Then we move on, this time Taylor taking the lead as we head towards a bookstore. "What are you planning on doing with that?"

"Oh, you'll see." While I wait for the Khaydarin, I'll keep myself busy with other projects. I already have the image of the finished product in my mind and I think that Taylor will like it.

We buy the school supplies for Taylor and take note of some pawn shops where she buys some jewelry that I'll later melt into circuitry.

Having money is seriously useful! Yes, it's drug money but we're repurposing it for a better cause.

With our purchases for the day done, we sit at a restaurant to take a bite before returning home. The place is located on a pier overlooking the bay, and there are a couple of TVs switched to the news channel. They keep insisting that the situation in the docks is under control despite rumors of a steady escalation in gang activity.

"Are you ready for your big day?" Tomorrow Taylor starts with Arcadia, and I want to talk about something not related to the impending gang-war looming over our heads.

"I hope I am. I just don't know what to prepare for."

"Relax, you'll do fine." I want to reassure her by telling her about how we can just kill those that offend her, but I don't want to talk about child-murdering in a place where we can be so easily overheard.

"Tomorrow I'll know. One way or the other."

Our food arrives and we dig in.

This is fucking delicious! Who knew that Brockton Bay had such a robust fishing industry?

I'm halfway done with my dish when Taylor pulls from my sleeve. I look at her and find her staring at the TV.

My heart skips a beat.

On the TV there's a photo of us. Of Ladybug and Tech-Priest, taken the night that we talked with Armsmaster.

"These two underaged vigilantes are being sought for questioning." The anchorman announces. "They are considered dangerous, and have information on an ongoing investigation. If anyone sees them or has evidence on their whereabouts, contact the PRT immediately."

The other patrons start whispering amongst themselves, many of them concerned with our young age.

So, the boot finally drops with the PRT announcing our existence to the city. At least the boot wasn't as heavy as I was fearing it would be. Officially at least. Only God -and the Simurg- knows what Piggot and the rest of her people are arguing about behind closed doors.

I look down at my plater. The prospect of stuffing myself with fried fish no longer sounds as appealing as a moment ago.

"I lost my appetite."

Taylor agrees with my assessment pushing her own dish away. "Yeah, me too."



Long John's wheel creaks as he runs behind Taylor, trying to keep up with her.

We're at the factory, our base for the lack of better terms despite the fact that it's even less equipped than our home. Taylor's running circles around the main warehouse, catching up on the training that she ignored during the previous week. Meanwhile, I tinker. The pieces of a broken sewing machine lie scattered all around me next to the tools I used to open one of my larvas.

I could have done this at home, but Danny was there and with Taylor we decided to come here for privacy. Not like we have been using that privacy for much because we spent the last hour and a half in silence.

Taylor drops to the ground and starts doing push-ups.

Her endurance is worthy of admiration. I've lost count of how many laps she has run already, and every so many cycles she stops to perform other exercises.

I'm getting tired just looking at her!

Something wet caresses my fingers and I see that Long John has come to me. Taylor follows, now on a break, and I toss a bottle of water in her direction.

She catches it and takes a sip. "Thanks." Long John gets comfortable on her lap as she sits next to me. "Why don't we join the Wards?"

My tools almost fall out of my hands. I wasn't expecting that. "Do you want to join the Wards?"

"No." She states, her tone deadly serious. "I just want to know what they'd give us for joining them, and what we'd lose."

Normally when people ask 'why don't we X' they are asking for permission to do X, but Taylor's question sounds completely genuine.

"Is this about the news?"

"Yes." She tosses the now empty bottle to the side. "I keep wondering if we're doing the right thing, and would like to hear your opinion."

Sounds reasonable.

I scratch my chin trying to remember all that I know of the Wards from my previous life, adding to that the flyer that the PRT left us at home.

"Well, the Wards program would offer us support in the form of a team to cover our backs," I'd say that's the most important part. Officially the Wards never see action, but here in Brockton Bay where the forces of law are stretched thin? Enough to say that I'm absolutely sure that the BB team would utterly dominate any other Wards team in a straight battle. "We'd also receive training on how to handle different threats and a steady pay that would go to our college funds. Their PR machine would be on our side making civilians want to help us, and, as a tinker, they'd also give me resources to build my inventions." If anything, that's the benefit that tempts me the most. "And to top it all off, I think that most of them are genuinely nice people." Well, except for Sophia but that's another story.

Taylor grunts, folding her arms. "Armsmaster was a jerk."

Was he? I honestly agreed with all that he said. "I found him refreshingly direct and reasonable."

"Of course you'd believe that." She rolls her eyes. "But then why don't we join them?"

Oh, boy, is that closet full of skeletons. Most of which only a handful of humans on this Earth know about. Sadly the fact is that, even if I don't mind the individuals that much, the organization as a whole is a mess.

But that's not the only reason. I'd say it's not even my main reason.

"When I started this after getting my powers, I did it with the full intention of just doing my own thing." I still remember my first day here. Discovering I had landed in Worm of all places wasn't nice. I don't like the setting, and even less so the people that live in it. Everyone's so stupid. "I was angry with the world, with myself, and with pretty much everything." I still feel mostly the same, just a tiny bit more focused. "Joining them was never under consideration for me because all I wanted was to have all the fun I could get out of my power before my inevitable demise." What else is there to hope for in this setting?

Taylor stares at me for a moment processing what I just told her. "That's a very grim and selfish outlook in life, isn't it?"

"I am a very grim and selfish person." I shrug.

"But then why did you insist on helping the person at the hospital? That doesn't make sense with what you just told me."

I press my lips into a thin line, my attention returning to my tinkering.

More than once in the past I stopped to think about why I feel the way I do. I rarely found an answer.

Back at the hospital, there was only this raw, visceral certainty that saving the man's life was the right thing to do, and that was it. It had to be done, and so I did it.

And yet I felt nothing like that when killing Coil's goons, or when leaving those Merchants to die at the explosion of their lab.

"It does make perfect sense." A welding point here, another welding point there. Tinkering is relaxing and predictable, unlike talking to people. "I told you, didn't I? I hate this world. I hate how it is, what people do, and what they allow to happen in it." I clench my teeth and force myself to steady my hands. If I lose my cool I feel like I'll take this device and smash it against the ground to vent my anger. "It's wrong. If I start thinking about all that is wrong because of people's stupidity my stomach aches, and I can't sleep at night." The cases 53, Cauldron and their shortsightedness, the fucking Birdcage. "If I can do something about it then I don't think, I just do it because then I feel that maybe, just maybe, not everything is lost."

That maybe death is not an acceptable alternative.

"You're kind of scary," Taylor says after a moment. "And really complicated."

"Complicated? No. I'm amazingly simple." The best things in life are. I wished more people could be like that. "It's just a matter of getting to know me."

"If you say so." Long John wines as Taylor scratches his ears. "But did something change? You told me this was your mentality when you started. Isn't it anymore?"

No, it isn't. At least not entirely. "It changed after I met you."

"Me?"

"Yes. I got to talk to you, you listened to me, and were nice to me." She forgave me for stealing her things, went with me to the library, listened to my complaints, and even sat next to me while I tinkered. If one day I decide that all humans are to die, I'll make sure that she doesn't. "I consider you my friend, and so I'll do everything in my power to help and defend you." In my eyes, being a loyal friend is more valuable than being family. Family has to stick with you because of the law and social pressure, but a friend that decides to follow you out of their own free will? That's far more valuable.

"Wow." She scratches the back of her head, looking away in embarrassment. "I really don't know what to say."

"Just be happy knowing that there's someone out there that would happily kill for you." That's what friendship is about: murdering the enemies of your friends. "Because to help a friend? There's nothing I wouldn't do." No atrocity too big or sin too unthinkable. That 's my motto.

"And now you made it weird again," Taylor says with a hint of humor in her words. She doesn't fully believe me. Maybe one day I'll show her how serious I am, but I doubt she'd want to remain friends after that. That would be a real shame.

I set my device down. It's almost done, and for this question I want to be looking at her. "But what about you? Why don't you want to join them?"

Taylor's eyes drop to Long John, who's licking her fingertips. "Mom's death was— I don't think I can even describe it. The world stopped making sense and I felt so small and weak. I thought I was getting better and that was when Emma betrayed me." You can blame her father and Sophia for that. Also the ABB.

"Then Winslow happened, and during a long time dad— he was just not there." She picks the dog up and presses him against her chest. "I was so alone. I felt like a witness to my own life. Everything was so chaotic and I could do nothing more than watch as things just kept happening. And no one listened. No one helped me."

And everything came to a stop the day of the locker. "That was when you got your powers."

She nods. "I got the chance for a new beginning, of doing something no one would stop. I still remember what you told me the night we burnt Winslow. About why I didn't use my power to take revenge on the Trio. I guess I had just given up on being Taylor Hebert. I wanted to ignore Winslow. Wanted to believe that if I kept pretending it didn't exist, that would become a reality."

I put a hand on her knee. "That never works."

"Yes, I know! But I was scared. I didn't want to lose control of my powers the same way I had lost control of everything else!" She takes a deep breath. "The idea of having someone over my shoulder looking and judging everything I do terrifies me. I finally have a saying in what happens in my life, and I don't want to give that up."

I return to my tinkering. It's almost done. "Then I think that the question of if we're doing the right or the wrong thing is utterly meaningless. The only thing we want is to do whatever we want to do."

She sighs. "I guess that's it, then."

A last tightening of a bolt and-- there! My latest creation is finished. "Take a step back, Taylor."

She does as I say, and once we're a safe distance away, I trigger the device.

It explodes.

Not in fire, sparks, or any other exotic effect, but in ribbons of clothing.

Long John whines in fear, cowering against Taylor's chest. "What's that?"

"This, Taylor," I add a pause there for dramatic effect, "Is your superhero costume."

Her eyes widen as she walks to the pile of clothing. "Could you turn around for a minute?"

I obey and after a moment of waiting I'm called to witness the result of my hard work.

It begs to be repeated: I'm a freaking genius.

Her suit is a mix of reds and blacks, woven together in wavy patterns. The circles and curves of her design make her look approachable, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't have edges. Her shoulders are sharp, making her back look broader, and the high neck of her shirt makes her look taller. I'm not giving her a cape, but I'm emulating the effect with a longcoat tied to her waist.

The fabric has been lined with silk harvested from Taylor's spiders for extra protection, and all the pieces have been customized to be able to adapt to mech-zerg implants.

Shit, I'm just realizing that in trying to replicate the colors of an actual Ladybug, I turned her into a freaking edgelord. Oh, well, red and black go well together. And my design is not only fashionable, but also practical, and comfortable! So, in summary: Shadow Stalker, eat your heart out.

"What do you think?" I ask her with no small amount of pride.

She runs her hands up and down her sides, taking in every detail. "It's amazing." She says that as if she doesn't fully believe her words. "Amazing enough to distract me from the fact that you somehow knew my measurements."

"I plead tinker power." The device that wove the suit is the newest strain of Mecha-Zerg: the scarab. It's an evolution of the larva, built as a sewing assistant in the vague shape of a horseshoe crab. I pick it up and hand it to Taylor. "Now, put on your visor, and then the scarab over it."

She eyes me wearily at that.

"I assure you that nothing will be implanted into your brain." Seriously, I thought we had already gone over this.

She complies, and the moment the scarab touches her visor, it fuses with it, unfolding around Taylor's head like a helmet. The similarities with a Power Ranger's helmet are very much intentional.

"Wow." The changes to the visor are largely cosmetic but will add some extra defense to her skull while keeping her identity better concealed.

"Now, do you see the new app in your visor?"

"The one that says 'morphosis'?"

"The same. Run it."

Sakura didn't have a transformation sequence. Her suits weren't magical but crafted by her friend Tomoyo, who then filmed sakura fighting evil on them. Because of this my power doesn't have a transformation mechanic to 'latch' onto, but I found a workaround: after building the scarab, the next step was installing into it the principles of Action.

Action, from the Clear Cards arc (an arc I only read the first couple chapters of), has the capacity to animate any inanimate object. I didn't need the full card for this, so I stripped it off it's more high-end powers and limited it to the small-scale animation of fibers in a localized area. That drastically lowered the price, and when paired with the processing power and battery of the visor, this all allows the scarab to interact with the clothes that a person's wearing.

The result is, well, a magical mascot mixed with a morpher. And once it starts running, the process is almost instantaneous.

Taylor's costume shifts, the fabrics waving as strips of cloth are absorbed into the scarab, replaced by different ones. Not all of it is absorbed, of course. An underlying mesh remains untouched through the process, both for the sake of Taylor's modesty and my own health. I'm not Japanese and so I don't feel the need to include a step where Taylor is nude during her transformation.

The time the Scarab takes to do its thing can be measured in heartbeats, and once it's done Taylor is left with completely different clothes. Also of my design.

"When did you do this?" She asks in amazement looking down at herself.

Gone are the ugly browns and greys of her usual wardrobe, replaced by a turquoise shirt that contrasts very nicely with her skin color. I also got rid of her usual pants and replaced them with a black skirt. The image is complete with some nice shoes and thigh-high socks.

The red and black helmet doesn't go with the rest of her clothes, but that one she'll have to remove on her own.

"I took the time to make a little extra for you," I explain. We don't have a mirror here, but I solve that issue by linking my visor to hers so she can look at the result from an outsider's perspective.

"I never had anything this nice before." She strikes a pose, checking the quality of the fabric.

"And you'll be wearing that to Arcadia tomorrow."

"I think I'd like to do that." She brings her hands up to her head. "How do I take the helmet off?"

"Go to 'Morphosis' again and pick 'Civilian Disguise'."

There's a hiss of servomotors and Taylor's helmet folds back into the scarab. But it's not done yet! Another hiss and now Taylor's holding a black and red backpack, built from the same fabric of her costume.

"You want me to bring tinkertech to school?"

It is a fair concern, but I think that the benefits outweigh the risks. "I added some useful stuff to make it hard to steal," Like a beeping alarm and a GPS, all thanks to the Visor that's now fused with the Scarab. Worst case scenario, the backpack can turn into the scarab and dig his way back home. "I'd be more comfortable knowing that you have the visor with you in case you need to contact me, and if something happens, you can quickly change into your Ladybug costume." I'm unsure if visor-to-visor communication works through Arcadia's faraday cage, but I still want to give her something to defend herself with, and bringing a pistol to school is just asking for trouble.

She purses her lips in deep thought. "I guess that's reasonable. Will you be working on your costume next?"

"Oh, absolutely."

Sadly I don't have time to finish my scarab before dinner time, and so I leave that for the following day.

Tomorrow a new week starts. One that promises to be dangerous for all the inhabitants of the Bay, but we'll be ready.

Or, at the very least, properly dressed for it.
 
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Piggot's interlude
Piggot's interlude​

The officers of the PRT had been trained to deal with criminals and monsters with powers beyond human comprehension. They were sturdy, courageous men and women that dared to face the worst that the world had to offer.

And yet, even they gave Emily Piggot a wide berth as she walked down the corridors of the PRT Headquarters.

They knew not to cross her when she was in a bad mood. Her rictus of barely controlled anger was evidence of that.

Having her daily hemodialysis being interrupted because of an emergency did that to her. Last week had been because a trafficing ring for underaged parahumans had been discovered, and now someone had modified a person in her city, implanting them with unknown tinkertech.

Memories of the horrors she experienced through Nilbog's uprising came to mind, together with the dossiers she'd read on Bonesaw. Innocents twisted into monstrosities as a groteske joke.

She wasn't going to let that happen. Not in her city.

As she opened the doors for the conference room, she took a moment to glance over the assembled personnel.

Armsmaster and Renick were a given. Dragon, in a monitor, was an expected addition due to the topic at hand. The last two attendants were a surprise.

"Panacea and Carol Dallon, what are you doing here?" New Wave was one of the few surviving parahuman groups that rejected the use of masks, but unlike her mother Amy Dallon was in uniform so that was the name that Piggot would use.

Armsmaster was the one to answer, "I requested the presence of Panacea to have a more detailed analysis of the victim's biology."

"And I'm here," Carol continued, "In my role as Amy's parent."

The woman was dutiful, and her refusal to play the charade while managing normal work as a lawyer was worthy of admiration. Emily would even consider her pleasant if it wasn't for her inflexibility and refusal to work with others.

For someone who liked talking about accountability, Carol Dallon didn't like supervision.

"Very well," Emily took her seat, "Where's the victim?"

Armsmaster gave her a folder with the details of the victim's confinement. "In cellblock C."

"Why not in the Master/Stranger cells?" Those cells were the ones designed to isolate and contain people with potential mental alterations.

"Under the circumstances, I suggested putting him in a cell where we can properly monitor the tinkertech device. I also ordered Assault to keep watch in case we need to restrain him, and Gallant to monitor his mental state."

A reasonable decision, even if she didn't like it. There had been few documented cases of tinkertech safely implanted on people, and so they were working on mostly unexplored territories. "How likely is he to need to be restrained?"

"That's more difficult to answer." The one to say that was Dragon, the monitor with her face switching to show several pictures of the man's torso. The entire left pectoral had been replaced with machinery, and the skin of that section was now a dark grey mesh that went all over his side and back. "As far as we were able to establish, the victim, one Anthony Vega, retains all his mental faculties."

"They all do until some madman triggers them." The PRT had seen that happening far too often. Valefor came to mind.

"We have tried to identify anything in the construction that could act as a radio receiver or timer, but so far have failed." Normally that would mean nothing. The creations of each tinker were different, unpredictable, and difficult to understand even by other tinkers. But that was exactly Dragon's specialty. "The device has also seamlessly integrated with the victim's parasympathetic nervous system and doesn't seem capable of influencing his brain or causing a hormonal imbalance. These are the results of only a couple hours of study, and we'll need many more days, if not weeks, to fully analyze the device, but the parts for something like that are simply not there."

"What about the other victims? I understand there were three more?"

"Three more humans," Renick was quick to reply. "But we started finding evidence of dozens of animals healed similarly."

Animals? Emily hadn't read that on the preliminary reports.

Noticing her confusion, Renick elaborated. "We received reports of several 'miraculous' recoveries in multiple animal clinics and shelters. We believe that our tinker was testing his device with animals before starting with humans. We're checking them, but so far this is the only case where the patient was left with tinkertech inside them."

That was a surprisingly restrained behavior for a tinker. Most of them were desperate to test their newest creations the moment they finished them, most of the time missing flagrant design flaws. That was why all PRT tinkers had to go through such a strict approval phase. "At least he isn't a complete lunatic." She tapped her fingers over the document on the desk, the one that contained all the scans of the device. "What exactly does this thing do? I refuse to believe that a tinker would be satisfied with just duplicating what's already there."

"That's correct," Armsmaster confirmed. "With Panacea, we tried to stimulate the heart with different chemicals but they all brought negative results. We believe that the heart may be able to filter most known toxins and poisons, but we can't be sure without administering the victim a potentially lethal dose of chemicals."

"Of course our tinker couldn't resist adding some improvements." But what would they gain by just giving away their technology? Was this a message? A test? "Let's assume that the tinker can't take direct control of the victim through the heart. Could he demand ransom to give maintenance?"

There was a sudden shift in the room. She saw that in the way that Armsmaster's fingers twitched, and how Dragon's avatar went suddenly still.

"The heart has self-maintenance properties."

"Excuse me?"

She had to have misheard that. The need for extensive maintenance and the tendency of their devices to malfunction was the main thing keeping Tinkers in check. It was the reason why Squealer didn't build an army of modified vehicles for the Merchants, and why Bonesaw couldn't create a zombie plague.

Silence fell on the room, and Panacea stepped in. "The victim has been noticed with more appetite than usual, craving meat and other foods rich in proteins. There has also been an increase in red and white cell production, and an imbalance in the amount of food consumed with that excreted. Even if I can't see the artificial heart, I believe it's using the victim's biology to repair itself."

So the heart could alter the way the body behaved. Maybe it couldn't throw the victim in a mad rage, but it could affect him in other ways. "What if it demands more, and starves the body?"

"Like cancer?" The girl asked in amusement, making Emily frown. "Maybe, but any normal organ could do the same, and I haven't noticed any change in the victim's remaining biology. No unnatural growths or losses of mass." She shrugged. "From a biological standpoint, he's perfectly healthy."

"That's why I shared the scans of the heart with Dragon," Armsmaster added. "It goes beyond the parameters of what most tinkers can do. If replicated, this construction method could be used to resolve our problems with mass-production."

Piggot's mouth went dry. Anything that a parahuman could produce 'en mass' represented a serious threat.

"Adding to what Armsmaster said, there's a lot to learn from the way it was built. Its design is almost fractal in nature."

Emily pressed her lips into a thin line. She didn't like dealing with tinkers. She didn't like admitting that there was much in their language that she didn't understand. "I'm not a tinker, Dragon. Explain it simpler."

" I apologize. What I mean is that the function of each individual piece gets reflected on the whole. In theory, this design is endlessly scalable and adaptable. It's why I believe that it was built on the spot from a much bigger one."

Endlessly scalable? That alone brought its own set of implications, none of them good. "Why was this the only patient affected? Why didn't the others receive new legs or lungs?"

Once again all eyes turn to Panacea. The girl sighed, frustration coated her words. "The other patients suffered from conditions they could naturally heal from. There was nothing wrong with what was already there, it was just a matter of putting everything back in its place."

Yeah, that, or maybe the tinker had run out materials to build more implants.

The old wounds that Emily received against Nilbog started itching. She might not have known much about tinkertech, but she knew about human health. "But a heart with a genetic disease couldn't be put back together without it failing again. This gives us a clear limitation on what the tinker can or cannot heal." Small mercy that. They'd have to warn hospitals that housed patients with similar conditions. "Now, if I may ask: why didn't you heal him?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Because there's always something going wrong somewhere in this city, and I need a lot of time to prepare organs for transplant. Worse if there are no donors and I need to build the organs from scratch. You'd know that if you had ever asked me for new kidneys."

Emily's fingers tightened against the edge of the desk.

"Amy!" Carol chastised her. Then turned to Piggot. "My daughter's behavior aside, that question has no relationship with the issues at hand so there's no reason for us to keep discussing it."

And there the woman was with the lawyer talk. "Indeed there's not." She cleared her throat. "Very well, do we have anything else to discuss with Miss Dallon?" There was a negative to that. "In that case, I thank you for your time, but until further notice, I'll request that Panacea comes here once a day to check on Mr. Vega's condition." Her attitude aside, she was the best healer at their disposal and Piggot wasn't going to waste a resource.

The girl opened her mouth to reply but her mother got ahead of her. "Of course she'll be happy to."

Panacea closed her mouth and in silence followed her mother outside the room.

Now that Emily found herself alone only with PRT personnel and affiliates that she could trust, she asked the question that was of primary concern for them: "What is the worst-case scenario here? What is this technology capable of?"

"As Dragon said, it's incredibly adaptable. This tinker would be able to rearrange any piece of technology on the fly to adapt to new battle conditions." There was an edge of jealousy in Armsmaster's tone. With his specialization in miniaturization, he had prided himself on always carrying the tool for the job, but now there was a tinker that could surpass him in that field. "And if he doesn't need to maintain the rest of his equipment the same way that other tinkers do, then they have more time to work on new projects."

Several scenarios flashed through Emily's mind. Tinkers were always upgrading their existing creations, and building new one. But the more they built, the harder it all was to maintain, and attacking their supply chains was how the PRT had fought them in the past. Now there was someone here who could dedicate more time than usual to his creations, and who could just keep building them. "So we're talking about someone well equipped and unpredictable. Do we have evidence on who the perpetrator is?"

Armsmaster's jaw tightened. "I believe it to be Tech-Priest."

That made sense. A new tinker had revealed himself and now this happened? But she didn't like advancing without knowing the full picture. "What makes you say that?"

"From our initial observations, the device is hardened against EMP. Most tinkers don't have the specialty to defend against such attacks, but Tech-Priest affirmed that his were. The fact that he used EMP grenades against Coil's men confirms that." The attack where two men had died. It didn't matter that they were gang members, if not worse. Having an underage child running around with an itchy trigger finger was a recipe for disaster. "And with the way this technology works, he'd only need to upgrade one device before translating that upgrade to all his other devices."

"And if he already upgraded one, why not all?" The more she heard and thought about this, the less she liked it. A tinker who could easily modify and upgrade his tech without the need to maintain it? How would they even keep someone like him under control? "I want you all to keep this information under wraps. The gangs will kill to have a tinker like him or to prevent others from getting him. I want him found ASAP." She didn't want to even think what Kaiser could do with a tinker.

"If you allow me, Director." Dragon interrupted. "Be it Tech-Priest or anyone else, they clearly show a degree of concern for human lives. Maybe they can be contacted peacefully."

Dragon was another woman that Emily could respect. She had dutifully served with the PRT for years and was the Warden of the Birdcage, but her lack of consideration for harsher methods sometimes proved problematic. "If they want to help, fine," She said through clenched teeth. "But they'll do that under PRT oversight once their tech has been properly tested." How many people have died because a cape believed themselves better than they were? "Tech-Priest and his partner are underaged, impulsive, and dangerous. I won't have someone like them experimenting on people."

At least she could always count on Dragon following orders. "Of course."

"Good, because there are procedures for this for a reason. Now, this is what we're going to do. Renick: make an announcement. We want to bring Tech-Priest and Ladybug in for questioning. Don't mention their crimes, we don't want them to retaliate, or alienate them if it turns out they are unrelated, but inform the public that we want them to answer some questions about an ongoing investigation. Also, warn hospitals about sightings of them." Hopefully, someone would see them and give useful information. "Dragon: can you help monitor the progress of the victim?"

"I can. I've been working on similar technology and studying this sample would help me advance my projects."

"In that case, I want one of your suits at the base. Officially you'll be working on a joint project with Armsmaster." There was a bit of manipulation there. Emily had noticed the interest that Dragon showed towards Armsmaster -everyone who had seen them talking had, despite the man himself remaining blind to it- and she'd take any opportunity to work with him. Having one of her suits on standby would also prove invaluable against the gangs.

"I'm busy with an investigation on Calgary, but as soon as I can I'll send one of my suits to you." The tinker replied eagerly. "How will we proceed if the tech proves harmless to the victim?"

"If the heart proves harmless?" She rubbed her chin, "Mister Vega will be returned to his civilian life under PRT watch." There had never been a situation exactly like that before, but they couldn't restrain a civilian indefinitely. Even if it was for his own good, the public wouldn't like it. "He will be carrying a piece of valuable tinkertech for the rest of his life and many would want to steal it. Armsmaster, you'll help there." Then she thought about the two problematic kids. The teleporter that Armsmaster had seen in action would make them extremely hard to track down and restrain. "I also want you to develop ways to counter Tech-Priest's tech."

"Of course."

"Good. I won't have someone playing God with the people of this city, so let's get to work." All Parahumans believed themselves to be gods one way or another. It was in their nature. No person could remain sane after gaining such amazing powers after the trauma of a Trigger Event.

It was then the job of people like Emily Piggot to keep them humble. If they could focus on this problem, they might have Tech-Priest and his partner in the Wards, working for the PRT, before the week was over.

Shortly after that meeting, Emily Piggot received reports that one of the Merchant's biggest Meth Labs had been destroyed, that Lung's holdings had been ransacked, and that the Empire was mobilizing.

"Fuck."
 
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Nuclear Fire 24
Nuclear Fire 24​

A new day, a new week, and a new school for Taylor. This is the day where we'll see if all our efforts were worth a damn! And as we walk down the stairs it feels me with pride to see Taylor dressed in the clothes I made for her, carrying her scarab over her shoulder.

So proud I am that I barely see Danny waiting for us.

"Taylor? What are you wearing?"

Curious, shouldn't he have left for his job already?

"Oh, this? Just something I pulled from the closet." Taylor lies. "I haven't used it in ages."

I'm already thinking about refurbishing her entire wardrobe. It should be super easy.

"Reminds me of one of your mother's dresses."

"Yeah. But, dad, why are you still here?" Yeah, Taylor also notices the strange presence of Danny at the house.

"I'm going to take you to Rochester." He smiles as I have never seen him smiling yet. He actually looks happy.

Taylor's back straightens, her face going very pale at that.

"Rochester?" I ask.

"Yes, Taylor's new school." Wait, what? "It wasn't easy but I managed to get her a position there through my contacts in the Association."

My hair stands on end. Shit, we never told Danny about Arcadia, did we? What were we thinking?! Of course he'd notice!

Oh, but how could we have explained all the illegal hoops and loops we went through to get Taylor there?

Shit, shit, shit! This is what happens when you treat people as non-entities. They tend to wander off and take initiatives.

"You don't have to, dad. Seriously." Taylor sounds like a robot as she says that.

"Nonsense! Let your old man escort you there."

Oh, come on! Why did he choose this time to pull his head out of his ass and start behaving like a father?

"Mister Hebert," My tone is deadly serious, "No offense but if one of my classmates arrived escorted by her parents we'd all laugh our asses off."

Taylor emphatically nods at my side. "Yes, dad. I want to have a strong start, and arriving at school with my dad won't help there."

"Your old man embarrasses you, Taylor? But it's okay, I understand." Damn, he genuinely sounds wounded by that. But seriously, how old does he think she is? Oh, yes. The last time he interacted with her in any meaningful way she must have been twelve.

I must repeat myself: why did he pick this moment to start caring again?

Not in the best of moods -so, like always- he departs for the docks, leaving Taylor and me alone to drown in our panic.

"You knew about this?" I yell.

"I- maybe? Dad did tell me something while I was studying, but I didn't pay him much attention! We never told him about Arcadia!"

"I know!"

"What's going to happen when his school calls asking why I'm not going?"

We don't have time for this! Literally. If Taylor doesn't take the bus now she'll be late for her first day at Arcadia. "This is what we're going to do: you go and enjoy Arcadia. I'll come up with a plan."

"Okay. Yeah. Let's try that. Just try to not make it weird."

Why did she feel the need to add that part?



The pencil scratches the paper as I put the images from my head into drawings. It's the last break before lunch, and I'm using the chance to go over all the cards that I have at my disposal. I have 52 powers to consider, and that's without adding the Clear Cards, and the guardians Cerberus and Yue.

There's a lot for me to consider and I don't even know where to start.

If we go for infiltration, The Silent, The Song, and The Illusion will be exceedingly useful. We'll be able to mute an area, copy the voices of people, and make them see what's not there.

If we want personal combat prowess then what we need is The Fight, The Power, and The Sword. The Fight is basically Uber, a combat engine designed to know all forms of martial arts. The Power would allow us to lift a truck over our heads and throw it as if it was a tennis ball, and The Sword would improve the Psy Blade, allowing it to cut through exotic effects.

If, on the other hand, we want blaster powers then we're also covered with the Elemental Cards. I'm tempted to build The Earthy for its ability to control the element of earth, something that would greatly enhance my drones' digging power.

And then there's The Shield, The Mirror, The Lock--

Everything is so useful!

"Drawing sexy women in class?" With a swipe of her hand, Aisha steals one of my pages, the one where I have The Dark. "A bit too clothed for my taste."

She better not stain it with her greasy fingers. "If you want nudes you'll have to pay."

"Ha! I don't have money for new socks, much less for porn." She puts it down, her eyes finding a new source of entertainment. "Hey, I didn't notice you had a brand new backpack!" She lifts her foot and brings it down on my scarab, leaving an ugly shoe-mark on the black fabric.

Oh boy, does this remind me of my previous run through high school.

"Was that necessary?" I give her the flattest look I can muster.

"Of course! It's like pulling the film out of a new cell phone!"

"Whatever you say." I wave my hand in dismissal. It's not like it'll cost me much to wash it, I just need to give the order and the Scarab will do that on its own. And thinking about it, Aisha might help Taylor and me with our conundrum. "Say, if someone wanted to abandon their school and not have the faculty call their parents, what would they have to do?"

"Keep missing school until they get tired of calling your family and they just give up! At least that's what worked for me in Winslow. If you figure out how to make that work here, let me know."

Well, so much for that idea. "I'll keep you informed."

As if smelling that we're talking about something illegal, Missy walks into our classroom.

"Peter. Aisha." Her eyebrows knit into a frown as she looks over my drawings.

Aisha picks The Watery and offers it to Missy, "Do you want a topless mermaid?"

"Hey!" I do not like when people touch my things without my permission. Thankfully Missy doesn't accept the drawing and pushes it away.

"No, thank you. I'm here to talk to you, Aisha." She is? Now that's different.

"Of course you are. You're boring like that, miss cop."

The Ward pinches the bridge of her nose. "Look, I'm trying to be nice here."

"So am I! And I'm failing!" And to accentuate her point, Aisha puts her feet on the desk.

Oh, boy, I can almost see the throbbing vein on Missy's forehead.

"Maybe you should hear what she has to say first?" I offer an olive branch.

"Fine, fine. Speak up, miss cop."

Missy clears her throat, going into what I have come to recognize as her 'professional' persona. "I want to know how things are in your neighborhood. With the gangs getting more active it can't be safe."

"It never was safe and it never will be." Aisha shrugs. "But we're tough bitches. We'll survive."

"Still, if you need help tell me because the gangs are a threat to all of us."

And like that, Aisha's ever-present smile is gone. "Oh, please," She says as she puts her feet back on the floor. "What can a pretty white girl like you fear? Eidolon himself will descend from the sky if someone as much as looks ugly at you."

She shouldn't have said that. Not to Missy.

"You don't know me." There's an edge of menace in Missy's tone.

"What's there to know? You'll never see a gang member in person. You're nothing but a spoiled rich brat whose main concern is where mommy and daddy will take her for the holidays."

It's like watching a trainwreck in the making. I should be backing away but I'm too terrified to move.

"This is what I get for trying to be nice to you." Thankfully Missy decides to de-escalate the situation and walks away, leaving me sweating profusely.

Well--

That was a mess. And I refuse to believe that Aisha didn't know what she was doing because there's no way for her to have pressed every-single-one of Missy's buttons by accident!

"You know that Missy isn't like that, right?"

"Of course I do." Of course she bloody does! "Did you know that she has a knife scar on the side of her chest? You can barely see it, but it's there." I wonder how she knows what a knife scar looks like, but I might not want the answer. "And I'm sure that she'd kick my ass in a straight fight. Not like I'd give her one."

"Then why antagonize her?"

"Because seeing her throw a fit is hilarious!" She laughs. "And, look, this entire shit pisses me off. I grew up with the gangs. They were always a problem for my family, and the PRT did nothing. It's only when they become a problem for the rest of the city that they start caring about us. Only then they remember that, yes, Lung kidnaps girls like me for his whorehouses, and that Kaiser hunts us for sport. But what can you do?"

The tip of my pencil snaps as I press it against the desk. "Kill them."

"Ha! See? That's why we're friends." She passes me a sharpener and soon the bell rings.



Returning to our old routine, I arrive home way before Taylor does. First I fill Long John's bowl, and then I ready my equipment to start working on the cards tomorrow at the earliest. Lastly, I check on the progress of my drones. Another half a dozen have been built, and the second construction zone has almost been depleted of useful material. The exploration tunnels I ordered have expanded, and at the end of the next week, my drones should be reaching the docks, giving me access to abandoned containers, and then the graveyard.

Soon I'll have access to that treasure trove of materials!

Sadly the units I sent Downtown haven't been lucky finding Coil's base. Not like I can blame them, it is a big area to cover after all.

A dilemma now is what direction to take the hive in: should I keep the focus on economy, or should I start building some military units? I could build some Zerglings now, useful against any normal human, but not so much against capes. I need Hydralisks for that. The problem then is that I can't build those without a Hydralisk Den, and that will be costly.

I'll need more drones, and more construction sites to farm.

I order the excavation of some exploratory tunnels to the north and then go to Taylor's room.

Ugh. Her closet's a tragedy, but one that's perfectly salvageable. Recycling several of Annette's old dresses, I put my scarab to start sewing new clothes. Soon she'll have a different dress for each day of the week!

That's enough clothes to satisfy a girl, right?

I'm almost done remodeling her wardrobe when she arrives.

"Welcome home, Taylor! How was your day?" I greet her.

"It was fine." She mumbles, sounding more tired than she looks. "It was just fine."

"You don't sound very convinced."

She puts her backpack on the table and then lets herself fall on the sofa. "I don't know." She grumps. "The teacher picked me to answer the questions."

That sounds-- normal? "Did you know the answers?"

"I did," Ok, that's good, "Same ones from the entrance exam. She must have been checking if I hadn't cheated. They did the same back in Winslow whenever I got a high mark."

As if Taylor would cheat! I did offer but she refused.

Thinking about it, good thing that she's as stubborn as a mule about that.

"The food was good at least. Better than Winslow." She continues, "The door to the roof was locked but I managed to take my lunch at the library. They have a section there for people who want to study during their lunch break. That was nice. The library girl was nice to me too."

"Were Emma and Sophia there?"

"They were, but they didn't talk to me. Sophia acted as if she didn't even know me, so that's something."

Sophia must be worried of Taylor talking, or Emma dragging her into an attack against Taylor and having all their lies uncovered. For much of how Sophia likes to talk big, she's a coward at heart.

"And Emma?"

"Oh, she looked furious," Taylor says with a slight smile of satisfaction. "But also avoided me. I'm fine with that."

It sounds like she had a normal day, but she doesn't sound happy about that. "Do you want to keep going?"

"Well, first day at Arcadia and no one threw anything at me. Or tried to trip me. Not like they could because I had my bugs checking everyone around me, but I think that I'll be staying for now." She puts the dog down and then gives me a very serious look. "So, have you thought about what to do about Rochester?"

Oh, of course.

"I did." I nod. "And I have several ideas."

"Let's hear them."

I search from my backpack and pull out my drawings. The first one I show Taylor is that of a long-haired girl holding a mirror. "Idea one: I make a clone of you, and send them to Rochester in your place." The Mirror can take the form of any person. She doesn't get their memories or their powers in the case of parahumans, but that's something we can work around.

Sadly Taylor doesn't look as excited as I am. "What?! I told you-- Don't you have something, I don't know, less weird?" She rubs her forehead as if massaging a headache.

I don't know what's so weird about it but I wouldn't mind doing something less expensive too. I need to work on more attack and defense options. "Okay, okay. I guess that cloning Danny is out of the question too," The next drawing is that of a girl in a dress that resembles a harp, with a headdress in the shape of a treble clef, "So what about mimicking his voice and calling Rochester telling them that the deal's off?"

"That the deal's off? Why do you have to make it sound so criminal? And won't dad have to go in person at some point?"

"Oh, I already have that covered." The Illusion isn't humanoid. Instead, it resembles a kaleidoscope. "I can use a holographic disguise to look like your dad, and together we go to have this sorted out."

"What if someone tries to shake your hand?"

"I tell them that I'm a germaphobe."

I can hear Taylor's heavy breathing as she sets both drawings aside. "Let's put that in the 'maybe' pile. What else?"

"Well--" What else do I have here? Ah, yes, The Dream: a woman with a massive hat that obscures her eyes. "I don't think you'd want us to go into Danny's dreams to implant a subconscious command to make him forget about this whole ordeal, would you?" If looks could kill, the one Taylor's throwing at me right now would have left nothing but a crater where I stand. "Yeah, I have nothing. My only remaining option is hiding underneath a desk and waiting for everything to fix itself."

Taylor sighs. "Let's go visit some hospitals. I want some fresh air, and maybe the exercise will help us think of a better solution."

"Sounds good to me. I can always feed my drones more data on human biology." I whistle and my backpack transforms into my scarab, a twin of Taylor's own, only differentiated by the fact that it's black instead of red. I put it over my head and it unfolds into my helmet: one that resembles a gas mask with its wide porthole-like lenses. And now it's time to say something that I always wanted to say, "It's morphin time."

My civilian clothes disappear and are replaced by my costume, one that makes me look like a Skitarii ranger with its hood and wide sleeves. My clothes are pitch black, and while I designed Taylor's costume to carry her implants underneath her clothes, mine are on the outside, connecting to my skin through several openings in the robe. With my implants painted red, I share Taylor's color scheme, mirroring the robes of a Machine Priest of Stygies VIII instead of one from Mars. Thematically appropriate, considering their obsession with xenotech.

"So, what do you think?" I ask her, striking a pose with my hands at my waist.

"It suits you. It's definitely very 'you'."

Taylor changes into her own costume and we depart into the city.



"Is it just me, or was that too easy?" Taylor says as we hop from roof to roof, on our way back home after a productive afternoon. I know we shouldn't expect to face any major problem every time we step outside the house but, as I look at the moon high in the night sky, I find myself agreeing with her.

We focused on the critical cases: pneumonia, heart problems, and infection, leaving the rest to heal by natural means. In total, we visited some thirty people across half a dozen hospitals and clinics. There were some PRT officers keeping an eye outside the patients' rooms, but it wasn't like they could stop us. We just teleported in and did our thing. We did see Glory Girl patrolling around one of the hospitals but it was because Panacea was working in it.

It was a very good day!

And yet it feels like the calm before the storm.

Even when they aren't doing anything criminal, it's normal to see people dressed in gang paraphernalia, but today we didn't see even one person with a swastika. The streets are calm. Unnaturally so. The silence is only broken by the PRT cars and motorbikes keeping the peace, followed by the odd hero.

The gangs must be keeping their head down, gearing up for something big.

Taylor stops me the moment that home is at range. The reason for that becomes obvious the moment I look at it with my visor: Danny's in the living room, seated on a couch. That shouldn't be anything weird, but normally he's with his nose buried in a mountain of papers. This time he's seated next to the door, glancing at it as if he was waiting for us.

Well, let's stop thinking about the problems of the city and focus on our own personal ones.

"Too late to send in the clones?" Taylor asks with a dash of fatalistic humor in her words.

We find an alley to change into our civilian clothes and make the rest of the way on foot.

What could this be?

Did Danny find out we're capes?

Did he find my hatchery?

Did he find Long John?

I'm not particularly fond of any of those options. I take Taylor's hand for courage, and together we get ready for whatever it is that fate has in store for us.

"Dad, we're ba--" Taylor calls as we enter, but gets interrupted when the man in question rushes to her and locks her in a hug.

Okay, the good news is that Danny doesn't look angry. The bad news is that I'm just as confused as before.

"Taylor! Why didn't you tell me?"

"T-tell you what, dad?" Taylor stutters, as confused as I am with the unexpected outburst.

"That you had taken Arcadia's entrance exam!"

"Eh?"

Full of pride, Danny goes to the table where he has an opened envelope. He picks the letter up and shows it to us.

It reads: Miss Taylor Hebert, from Arcadia High we congratulate you for--'

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

Taylor had remained after taking the exam waiting for the result, but apparently it's the faculty's policy to formally congratulate the students by sending letters to their families.

"Ah, yes, that." Taylor's cheeks turn a deep shade of red as she scratched the back of her head. "I wasn't sure if I'd pass, so I didn't want to give you false hope."

"False hopes? As if there could have been any doubts you'd ace the exams!" He laughs, shaking Taylor in his euphory. "But how did you get in? Those exams cost a small fortune."

"Peter helped me with that. With the entire Winslow mess, Arcadia opened its exams for more people. There was a vacancy and I took the chance."

"This we have to celebrate! And don't worry about Rochester, I already called them and told them you wouldn't be going." Seems that the problem fixed itself! Not like I hope for that to happen again. I slowly try to back away but Danny grabs me and forces me into the family hug. "And you too, young man. You're part of this family too."

I can't move. We have barely interacted. I know nothing of him.

I don't like this. My useless struggles against his adult strength must look like the petty tantrum of an embarrassed teenager.

But Taylor laughs.

And it's nice to see Danny and her behaving like a happy family again.

For her sake, I endure.

It's just a pity that this relationship has been built on a messy entanglement of lies, but what can you do about it?
 
Nuclear Fire 25
Nuclear Fire 25​

My tools lie scattered over the floor of the abandoned factory, next to the hole the mecha zerg crawled out from.

I am with Taylor, and we're here in full costume to test my newest invention.

"Are you sure that this is safe?" The tone of Taylor's voice betrays her concern, but she should not fear as I'm ready for this!

"Not in the slightest," I am being honest, "But that's why I have the drones here to put me back together in case something happens."

I pulled five of them from their construction work and brought them here to help with the testing. Normally I'd only need three, one for my chest and two for my legs, but I want some extra safety measures.

In my hands I have the first card of what I hoped will be many: The Jump, a card in the form of a stylish bunny with wings. It isn't nearly as versatile as The Fly is, but this is mostly a proof of concept as I want to see how well the Cards worked together with the drones, without the need for hard-light constructs.

The Zergling can jump, the Battlecarrier Lord can fly, and multiple units have combat and aim-assisting programs. My idea is to use the cards not to give the drones those abilities but to 'unlock' them without having them transforming into the more advanced units. Not only will this save me materials but also will ensure I don't sacrifice the medical advantages of wearing armor composed of drones.

That's the assumption, of course.

"Let's see what this can do." My chest-piece shifts to reveal a socket where I plug the card into. There's a loading screen, and the moment the program is fully installed my armor shifts. What seems to be pistons emerge from the sides of the boots, and from my back spring small vestigial wings similar to those that the zerglings develop after being upgraded. From what I'm reading in the status screen, the pistons are to give me the initial boost, and the wings are to stabilize me with a dozen gyroscopes in each.

"Are you going to fly with those?" Taylor can barely contain her excitement.

Sadly I have to rain on her parade, "Not yet. For now, I'll start with jumping really high. Or falling with style, whatever happens first." I pull the card out and my armor reverts to its previous form. Perfect! So far so good. "Okay. First test, I'll aim at the other end of the room." My objective is some thirty meters away, next to where I believe was once a fire hydrant. I flex my legs and jump!

It feels like flying! For a couple seconds. Then I crash and bounce against the wall, leaving a dent before dropping on the floor with a sonorous 'thud'.

"Tech Priest!" Taylor yells, rushing to my side.

The only thing to come out of my mouth is a whine, but one more product of shame than pain as the armor fulfilled its purpose. The impact was cushioned, and there was minimal damage to my fleshy insides. "Please tell me you filmed that."

"Should I?" She asks in confusion.

"Of course! We'd have uploaded that to the internet and become stars of Best Cape Failures."

"Let's try not to fail from the start."

"I'm fine with that too."

Taylor helps me to my feet and I review the log. Mechanically speaking The Jump fulfilled its purpose perfectly. The problem then was that it needs some calibration.

"Let me try—" I hop from leg to leg and then do a backflip. I manage not to land on my face but my butt is now sore. In the second attempt, I land on my feet but can't compensate for the momentum and I lose my balance near the end. Third proves to be the charm and I execute a perfect backflip, "Ta-da!" I cheer with my arms high in the air.

"Nice!" Taylor nods in approval. "When can I test it?"

"In a moment. First, let's go outside and test it more extensively." The open ground will give me the room I need to test more complex movements.

"Fine by me. We can use the chance to patrol around the place."



My robes flap with the wind at my back.

If I were to turn my head down I'd see the cars rushing at full speed, dozens of meters right below me.

There's a hiss of servomotors as the shock of the impact is absorbed, allowing me to safely land on the roof of the apartment block. Behind me, across the street, is the tower of the church I jumped from.

My limbs are trembling and my skin is shivering.

That was utterly terrifying but so damn fun! I haven't felt this alive in years!

"Can I test it now?" Taylor's voice makes me jump as she materializes to my side.

I do think I have tested it extensively enough to label it safe, so I look her up and down and say: "You'll have to catch me first!" I hop and I'm already a block away. Taylor is close behind me, the blink band allowing her to keep up with me but only barely. She might be able to cross gaps of terrain instantly, but every time she does so she has to wait a couple of seconds for the band to recharge, giving me the time I need to flee.

A hand reaches from the edge of my sight. I kick against a water tank and push myself away.

She teleports just in front of me. I somersault over her head.

A couple kids walk to their balcony to see the chase, and I wave at them on my way to the next roof.

With Taylor we keep like this for what must be a good fifteen minutes, but damn I'm so not in shape! Even with the assistance of my armor, my muscles are already aching and I'm getting tired. I take a moment too long to make my jump, and Taylor catches me. She tackles me to the ground and we both go down rolling over the roof.

We start laughing like maniacs.

"Okay, give it up!" Taylor says as she helps me up to my feet. "I won."

"Yeah, yeah." I reach for my chest plate to extract the card, but that's when a helicopter passes flying over our heads, "Eh?" And not only that but together with the sound of the rotor comes that of sirens. Some are police, others ambulances, and some more are firefighters. That's when we notice a column of smoke rising at the distance, where the helicopter is going. We exchange a look and rush to the edge of the building, trying to get a better look at the situation.

The smoke is coming from somewhere up north, in the Trainyard area, and my visor identifies the distant sound of gunfire.

PRT patrols are rushing towards the fire while ambulances are driving away from it.

Taylor's fingers curl, maybe thinking about the same thing I'm thinking.

"Your call, Ladybug." There's only two of us, and we aren't splitting up. It'd be too dangerous to move in without a partner.

Her breathing comes in short bursts as she nods. "We follow the ambulances."

The safest option. We don't know what's happening in the Trainyard, or who's fighting whom. We don't know if we'll be of any help in that battle but we know that providing medical assistance is something we're good at. We won't be able to stop new people from getting hurt, though.

It's not an easy call to make, and I'm happy I'm not the one making it.

We follow the ambulances to one of the hospitals we already visited, and arrive just in time to see four gurneys being rushed to the emergency room.

"We need a blood transfusion here!" I hear through my visor.

"Prepare for surgery. Now!"

"Does anyone know where Panacea is?"

"She's in Florence with another batch of patients!"

It's chaos all around there, and the patient's survival chance looks low at best.

I feel a hand over my shoulder. "Tech-Priest?" She realizes, just as I do, that there's no staying hidden this time.

"Yes, let's go."

Our surroundings shift and in the blink of an eye, we find ourselves inside the emergency room.

One of the nurses yells in surprise, dropping a trail full of equipment. That alerts the rest of the personnel, whose reaction ranges from confusion to fear.

One of the medics, the older one around, is the one who steps up to confront us. "Who are you? What do you want here?" This is the first time we've been seen in public with our new costumes, so it's no surprise that they don't recognize us.

As usual, it's Taylor the one to take the lead. "Independent heroes Ladybug and Tech-Priest. We're here to help."

With a swipe of my arm, my hand morphs with dozens of needles and other sharp instruments replacing my fingers. It's not a weapon, it's a surgical tool, but I don't feel the need to correct the people here as they back away from me.

"Call the PRT." It's thanks to my visor that I hear a woman giving that order outside the room.

Taylor must have heard that too as she gets more forceful, "We are the ones who have been healing people these past days."

The lead medic stares at us, the muscles of neck tightening as he swallows. Is he going to try and argue? It's not like there's anything he can realistically do to stop us. Even if they have someone who can overpower us, any battle would put the patients here at an extreme risk. And every second he stalls for time, is a second these people might not have. He must have realized that too as he turns to one of the nurses, "Keep an eye on what he does."

The girl, probably a disposable intern, offers a nervous nod and walks to me. "I'll request you describe everything you do. Step by step."

Oh, heavens spared me of people too stupid to know what's good for them. Small mercy that. And while Taylor argues with the medics, I get to work.

The first is a black woman with a bloodied bandage around her midriff. "The victim was shot and the bullet tore through part of her intestines before exiting through the other side." I read my drone's diagnostic outloud for the nurse. "I'll proceed to reconstruct her insides."

"How are you going to-" She goes quiet when I place my morphed hand over the wound and a series of tiny pincers start knitting the flesh together. "I'll need more detail than-" This time what interrupts her is a beeping sound. It takes her a moment to realize it's her cellphone.

"I'm sending all the relevant data to your phone." It was just a matter of hacking the device and linking it to my medical log. All in the name of my own convenience. "You can check it all there."

With the first patient done, I move to the second one. This one is a man, and his bullet is still inside him. The bullet hit a rib, which then went to pierce a lung. Ugh, I don't want to keep reading the diagnostic so I better just get started.

By the corner of my eye, I see that another nurse has pulled out a cellphone and is filming us.

"It was Lung." One of the medics explains, keeping his composure under Taylor's stare. "The ABB started taking Empire territory."

For her part, Taylor's voice sounds surprisingly calm. She must be doing that trick of hers with the bugs. "Yes, we saw the smoke outside."

"And you didn't go help?"

"It was either going there or coming here."

"And I think that these people are happy that we did the latter," I add from my place next to the beds.

The third patient has a concussion, nothing major, and the fourth one-- shit. Half her body is just a charred mess. Her clothes-- her clothes are mostly nylon and instead of burning they melted over her skin, and I can see patches of naked muscle. My drone takes several minutes delicately removing the plastic and dead skin from the healthy parts, but she has lost far too much flesh for a full reconstruction now.

"I've stabilized her but she'll need time to properly heal," I explain while canceling the drone's integration. After all, her condition is no longer life-threatening. "I'm done over here." I turn to Taylor and oh, boy, are those a lot of people. Someone forgot to close the door and the entrance is choked with people trying to take a glimpse of us. Most of them have phones.

"Good," Taylor has been keeping her facade of calmness all this time. Not like I can blame her, the public's eye is a judgemental and intimidating one. "Let's get out of here."

We teleport out, this time to an empty room inside a hotel across the street. Strange choice.

Taylor must have noticed my confusion as she quickly explains in her robotic monotone. "This was the first empty place I found. And I wanted some walls around us in case they can see us from the roof."

It's eerie to hear her like that. Mostly because I know that her apparent composure is a complete lie and that the only thing she's doing is making her hive react to her panic instead of her body. "Ladybug, your voice."

"Oh, yes," She takes several quick breaths. "I-- give me a moment." Okay, that sounds closer to the Taylor I know.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes." She paces back and forth around the room. "There were so many people there. Kids were trying to get in, but their parents stopped them, then some security guards tried to get in but I scared them with some wasps. You didn't see them, busy with the victims, but they were there."

Wait, she brought bugs inside the hospital? "Did you leave the wasps there?"

"No, of course not! I'm not that-- no." Okay, good. "I pulled them out and even got rid of some bugs that were already there." She opens the visor of her helmet. Not enough to reveal her full face, but enough so she can massage her eyes. "I just didn't want them to look down on me. When I do that thing with my voice it makes me sound like I actually know what I'm doing."

As my father used to say: you can hide a lot of errors underneath a good presentation. "Keep faking it and eventually you'll make it."

"Let's hope so." She sweeps the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her shirt and closes the helmet. That wasn't a product of the heat, as my drones have their own ventilation system, so it must have been just her nerves.

"What now?"

"Let's go to where they saw Lung. Maybe we can still do something there."

"Fine by me." Our visors should warn us in case Oni Lee appears, and our teleporter should give us an easy escape route.

All those plans are for nothing, though, as when we arrive at the site of the battle, it's long over. An entire section of the street has been cordoned to stop the small army of onlookers from pushing through, and cameras from at least half a dozen news channels dot the place.

The only thing that remains of the event are torn lamp posts, toppled cars, and smoking debris. There are also some bodies at the side of the street, black screens covering their empty eyes.

One is too small to be an adult.

The target of Lung's fury, as Taylor explained to me on the way here, was a pub that served as a front for Empire operations. It was during that initial clash that the majority of casualties were generated, most of them normal people that just happened to be drinking there or walking around.

Well, the place is no more. The floor of the dining room was torn open to reveal the basement underneath, and the roof is now nothing more than burnt wooden beams.

Miss Militia and several PRT officers keep watch while firefighters and paramedics dig through the rubble.

"Any way we can help?" Taylor asks at my side.

There is a body trapped underneath the collapsed floor, but the person expired some time ago.

I shake my head.

Taylor sighs in frustration. "Coming here was just a waste of time."

It feels like a defeat, even if this was a fight we had no part of. And there lays the problem: it's that feeling of impotence, of not being able to act while ugly shit like this happens. We made our choice, and it was a good one, but there's always more to do.

No point in thinking about that.

The gang war has officially started and we will need weapons. Lots of weapons, and fast.
 
Nuclear Fire - 26
Nuclear Fire - 26​

As I fill Long John's bowl with water, my mind wanders to the events of the previous day, and to the revelation I had while following Taylor around:

We lack manpower.

The Mecha-Zerg are all well and good for more generic work like digging or killing, but sometimes you need someone capable of making their own decisions. Someone who can rationalize and work on their feet. With this, I mean that we need more allies with human-levels of intelligence or a close approximation of that.

My first thoughts were the Guardians Yue and Cerberus, or maybe their counterpart Ruby and Spinel. Each one is extremely powerful, easily capable of going one-on-one against most capes, but the amount of time and materials I'd need to create them is staggering.

They are semi-biological creatures, so if I were to create them I'd be talking about weeks of them growing inside a tank. The result would be spectacular without a doubt, but once they're ready it might be too late for them to be of any help.

I need something faster, something strong enough to make a difference when I throw it at our enemies, and independent enough to not need my constant supervision.

I need The Fight.

The Fight isn't just a combat maniac, but a battle engine capable of predicting her opponents, learning from them, identifying weaknesses, and adapting to changing circumstances of the battlefield! Capable of working with my implants and with any melee weapon I put on her hands, she'll be a massive force-multiplier.

And all of that, on top of being a combat maniac!

My mad ramblings get interrupted by Long John walking to me and dropping on his back showing me his tummy.

"Taylor's spoiling you too much," I say while I scratch him, "Who's a good boy? Yes, you are."

Now, where was I? Ah, yes.

The Fight isn't as intelligent as the Guardians who could pass as normal humans, but more of a 'fire and forget' kind of weapon. Because of this I'll need the full version of her, one with a hard-light body who can assist us on the field. And that's easier said than done as I'm running low on the jewelry that Taylor bought for me.

While musing over the importance of supply chains, my stomach announced its desire for food with a growl so loud that Long John barks back at it.

I pick him up and head to the Kitchen, checking the TV on my way and setting my Visor to read the latest news. The big event of the day was the Empire striking back against Lung's newly conquered territories, the internet having been flooded with photos of Hookwolf, Crusader, and Rune battling ABB mooks. The TV is less excited about it, not going in as many details as the PHO thread does, maybe to keep the general public calm.

With a sandwich made and already half-eaten, I march confidently back to the basement when Taylor arrives.

"Mo-ning." I wave at her, my mouth full.

Her reply is a disheartened "Hi" followed by her dropping on the sofa like a puppet with her string cut.

Geez, did Taylor just get replaced by a zombie?

Shit, that's no laughing matter! That could have actually happened!

I take a drink to clear my throat, and as she has claimed the entirety of the sofa for herself I push a chair in front of her, "Hey, what happened?"

Leaning against the soffa, she throws her head up, "I'm not sure." That only makes me more concerned than before.

"What do you mean by that?"

She pushes her hands together, toying with her fingers as she articulates her words. "I think I got complimented?"

Was it a boy? Should I bring a shotgun and give them 'the talk'? "I-- think that's a good thing?"

"Okay. Yes. It is. I think." She shakes her head to push the doubts away and straightens up to look at me. Then she starts the recount of the events, "Some of the girls started asking me about my clothes. I think they were being honest when they told me they liked them, but then they asked me where I had bought them and I made the mistake of telling them I had them made!"

"Why was that a mistake?"

"Because they went crazy after that!" She yells, throwing her fists up in the air, "They started asking how much they had cost me, who my designer was, and half a dozen other stuff that I didn't know how to answer! I made a fool of myself. I was such a blubbering mess! I told them it was a family member and that only made it worse! But what was I supposed to say to any of that?"

Well, Taylor has been taking to Arcadia a different set of clothes each day since the start of the week, all of my design, so it's only natural that someone noticed it, "I'd start by asking them how much they are willing to pay for a dress like yours."

She arcs her eyebrows in disbelief, "Seriously?!"

"Yeah." I shrug, "We can always use more money, and it's not like sewing dresses will take me any time thanks to the scarabs." I filled them with all of Tomoyo's knowledge, and that gave me a good hundred different permutations of dresses without considering colors. If I start feeding them fashion magazines, that number will only go up.

"But how would any of that work? As weird as it was you knowing mine, how will you know their sizes without even meeting them?" She pauses, her eyes narrowing, "Because you aren't meeting them, are you?"

Oh, Taylor of little faith. "No, I'm not. But remember: tinker. I'd just need a full-body photo of them, front and side, to feed into my scarab."

Her face scowls into that look that makes me think she's about to strangle me. "You do realize that you're asking me for photos of my classmates, don't you?"

Does she really think I'll do anything unworthy with them? If I want nudes the internet is full of them, and if I want a girlfriend I'll just build one. "If you think they'll get uncomfortable with the idea, just tell them I'm gay. I mean, they believe I'm a clothes designer, so you're already halfway-- ouch!" I rub the sore spot in the back of my head, "Why did you do that?"

"Don't say stuff like that," And now she's giving me the look of 'I'm screaming inside my head and giving myself a headache in the process'. "That was so not the point, but-- I'll think about that, alright? That's all I promise." She pinches the bridge of her nose, her breath coming in short bursts. Long John is nibbling at her leg, and as she puts him on her lap the tension finally leaves her shoulders, "And how was your day?"

Ah, topic changes. The best way out of an uncomfortable conversation.

"Less exciting than yours, that's for sure. School was normal," Missy and Aisha have been avoiding each other and that brought a measure of peace to everyone, "But I'll need some more resources to keep tinkering. We can go buy them with the money we still have left, or beat-up some gang members and steal their phones."

"Oh, my, I wonder what option I'll pick." Taylor laughs. "I have homework to do so give me a couple of hours, but after that we're going out."



During the morning, the hit-and-run attacks launched by the E88 dispersed after Oni Lee and Lung arrived at the scene, but not before causing as much damage as possible.

And there was a lot of it.

The Empire capes focused their attacks on non-white neighborhoods, and even if the civilian casualties were kept low -small mercy that- the material damage is off the charts. Bullets were shot, Molotov cocktails were hurled, and several buildings were set on fire.

Another small mercy is that Kaiser has kept his aim set at the Dock and has avoided Merchant territory, maybe not wanting to open himself to another front. The Wards have also been kept on reserve with no sighting of them so far. With this, I hope that Aisha and Missy remain safe. They have to. After Taylor, they are the only friends I have here.

"I have a couple of looters across the street," I inform Taylor, who's busy collecting her swarm.

"Yes, I see them."

Now, with the sun starting to set, the gangs have retreated to lick their wounds leaving the disenfranchised to roam around. Our current target is a band of teenagers looting the shops damaged in the crossfire and abandoned by their proper owners.

Mind you, the only reason why we're saving this stuff is that the current target is a furniture store. If these people were trying to rob an electronics store, I'd be fighting them for the right to repurpose the place.

Not many shops like that around this part of town, sadly.

The first signal that the group of looters receives that something's wrong comes when one of them slaps his face trying to sweep a wasp away. Soon they realize that the one wasp is followed by hundreds, and their screams echo through the empty streets.

They scramble away, abandoning their loot to run faster.

"Should we have captured them?" Taylor asks me once the group is outside the range of her control.

I shrug, "They look just like opportunistic idiots. Scaring them should be enough as long as they don't turn violent." That and I doubt the PRT and Police have the manpower right now to deal with all this, but I don't want to get technical here.

Now, let's see. Did they leave anything of interest behind?

No. Their bags only contain clothes and what seems to be gizmos stolen from a gift shop. We don't even know where that stuff comes from, so we leave it there and move on.

During our patrol, we find would-be muggers, drug dealers trying to set up shop, random vandals, and even more people trying to rob the empty buildings. We deal with all of those, getting some resources for our troubles. We steal the drug dealer's money, and one of the looting groups has some cell phones.

But it's still far too little for the time and effort we're investing here! The moment we think that we're done with one place, something new pops up to divert our attention, making me feel like we're trying to fix a cracking dam with duct tape.

I'm reaching the limit of my patience and I'm about to suggest hanging some people as a deterrent for the rest when Taylor's sense of smell comes once again to our rescue.

"Wounded person." She suddenly announces.

"Where?"

"It's over-- over there?"

The confusion in her voice gets explained once I follow the line of her finger and my visor identifies 2 people. One is the victim, lying flat on the ground, and the other, hovering above him, is someone who I tagged several nights ago: Victoria Dallon. Or Glory Girl, as she's in costume.

Fuck.

Dark, empty buildings loom over the alley where the event took place, blocking the sight of any random onlooker, and as we get closer my visor pings to a cellphone and a distressed call.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up!" Glory Girls cries into her phone, but the only one to answer her is a pre-recorded message informing her that the number is unavailable. She spits a curse and punches the number one more time for the same result.

"What is she doing?" Taylor asks next to me, using the edge of the roof we're standing on as a barrier to block the hero's line of sight.

I don't reply, even if I know the answer: Victoria has once again gone too far and is trying to bring Panacea here to save the life of the guy she almost killed. Of course, the guy's still breathing, so depending on who he is and what he did I'd argue that she hasn't gone far enough.

We teleport to the entrance of the Alley, hoping for an open and non-threatening approach, and from there Taylor waves at the distressed girl.

"Glory Girl! We are-"

Our friendly greeting is ignored with the flying hero descending in front of us like the blow of a hammer, executing a perfect three-point landing in the process.

Did-- did she just do a superhero landing?

I don't have time to make fun of her as I find my air lacking, and my tongue twisting in utter terror.

Is this what her aura feels like? And the PRT publicizes it as just a shaker effect! Bullshit!

"Who are you? What do you want here?"

Why's she doing this? She isn't supposed to be this stupid!

This is bad. This is so bad! I can't breathe. My knees are shaking. I want to run away but my legs don't respond to me.

[Warning: organism submitted to high stress. Compensate?]

Yes, bloody, yes! And do the same for Taylor!

My eyes lose focus for a moment, and the fear remains there, but the pressing nail against my brain turns into a distant ache at the back of my mind.

Now I feel drowsy, also a bit sleepy, and I don't want to even think about the cocktail of drugs that my implants are injecting in my bloodstream to compensate for Glory Girl's aura.

It's not a perfect solution, but at least I can think coherently once again.

So can Taylor, who starts yelling, "Stop doing that!"

If Glory Girl is surprised by her aura not affecting us as much as it should, she doesn't let it show in her face, "I will, the moment you tell me who you are!"

In Taylor's defense, she hasn't swarmed the flying brick with her wasps. A good thing because even without her aura I don't like our odds against her. "We're Ladybug and Tech-Priest!"

The hero blinks in confusion at that, "Lady--" She cuts herself off, her face warping in surprise, "Oh, shit! You're the medical tinkers!" Gone is the rictus of fury, and gone is the pressure over my shoulders as her aura stops affecting us. "I'm sorry!" She floats down, peacefully this time, to get herself to our level. She offers Taylor a hand, but Taylor slaps it away.

"Is this how you treat every new hero you meet?" Taylor asks through clenched teeth. I'd argue that we aren't exactly heroes but that doesn't invalidate her point.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just that things with the Empire have been getting out of hand and you're kind of dressed like the Nazi flag."

Is she talking about the red and black? Come on, that's an amazingly stupid reason to judge someone! It's not like we carry swastikas around.

Taylor also shares my opinion on the matter. "My name's Ladybug! What other color were you expecting me to wear?!"

Glory GIrl gives us an embarrassed smile as she scratches the back of her head, "Yeah, it's kind of funny in hindsight." Then she floats back and signals at the-- oh, yes, I had forgotten there's a dying man over there. "Hey, can you help me with this?"

I exchange a look with Taylor, who nods at me, and I move on to do my thing. Using the chance to recover the pieces of a broken cell phone below the patient.

In just a moment, my drone confirms what I was already suspecting: legs and ribs are broken, there's some internal bleeding, and he has a concussion. "The patient shows signs of heavy trauma caused by falling from a great height." I dramatically stand up -I always wanted to do that- and stare Glory Girl right in the eyes, "Did you do this?"

She's taken aback by the accusation, and across my visor a warning flashes informing that her aura is active again, "Look, it was an accident!" Wow, she's actually worse than me at lying. That's an accomplishment!

"An accident?" Taylor yells, "How can you accidentally throw a person to his death?! Why shouldn't we call the police?"

"I can bench-press a truck!" Glory Girl argues back. "Sometimes I don't measure my own strength. And yes, I understand I messed up! But, please, this is bigger than me. If this gets out it also affects my family. I don't want this to get back to them."

Shit, what a mess. I kind of understand her point, mistakes happen and our powers can be hard to control.

[Compensating]

Compensating? What is it compensating-- oh, for fuck's sake, now we're under the effect of her awe aura!

"Are you seriously trying to guilt-trip us into hiding your mess?" Boy, does Taylor sound furious.

"What? No, I-"

"Oh, shut up! You're just a coward who doesn't dare to face consequences!"

[Compensating]

Once again I feel drowsy as Glory Girl rises an inch above the ground, just enough to look at the taller Taylor down, and closes her hands into fists. "So you don't like me. Fine. Is this worth letting a person die?" And then she has to go and play that card!

There's a moment of tense stalemate as the two girls look at each other. Would the Dark Coil be able to go through her shield? I doubt it, but even if we can bring it down Glory Girl is still insanely fast and strong.

Thankfully it seems we won't be fighting.

"No. It isn't." Taylor says after a moment of consideration, her radiating anger almost palpable as she turns to me, "Heal him."

"As you wish," I shrug, starting the healing process. Unlike the patients at the hospital, this time I order my drone to use minimal sedatives so the guy wakes up the moment the process is done. "But just so you know this person is an Empire member." I know that from his shaved head and nazi symbols tattoed over his skin.

"Yes, he is." Glory Girl confirms, "I was interrogating him to find out the location of the rest of his band, but then things got out of control."

"You can bench-press a truck. How can you lose control of a normal human?" Damn, Taylor, chill! Don't antagonize the human cargo plane!

"I squeezed too hard, he screamed, and I accidentally let go."

"And now you're using us to hide it." If the venom in Taylor's words were turned real, I doubt that even Glory Girl's shield would be of use against it, "So much for New Wave's famous accountability, isn't it? And couldn't you have just brought him to the police?"

"From a legal standpoint being an 'independent hero' is little better than being a vigilante." Glory Girl explains while massaging her forehead, "If I don't catch them in the act, my hands are tied. That's why I wanted the location of their safe house because any confession I get out of him he can later claim I got under duress. Yes, I did read the PRT procedures manual."

"So much for the blonde stereotype. Small mercy that."

"Okay, that's enough you two!" I yell before things can keep escalating, "Can you at least tell us what he did?" That's the important part.

Glory Girl takes a deep breath to compose herself, "He set a house on fire with the family still inside, after his accomplices blocked the door."

"Are you sure it was him?" I feel my teeth aching as I grind them.

"Yes. I was there." She replies with a haunted expression in her face, "I managed to get most of them out, but the father didn't make it."

If I'd been in her place, I'd have started with breaking each of the guy's limbs to get the information out of him, before dropping his body in the middle of the ocean. Why am I healing him again?

The moment of silence following Glory Girl's explanation is broken by a mocking laugh.

It takes me a moment to realize it's from the guy, my drone almost done with his wounds. "I was just sending the trash to the incinerator." His laugh turns into a broken scream of pain as I forcefully tear my drone away from his chest. Without giving it time to properly detach, the result is an ugly mess of dozens of tiny scars, with pieces of skin missing and the blood freely flowing. It doesn't make for what he did, but it's a start. "You fucking asshole! You know you can't do this!" The man sobs, aiming a crooked finger at Glory Girl. "I'll sue you! Kaiser will destroy you once he hears about this!"

Seriously? Is-- is this really happening? But does he seriously think that the threat of a lawsuit is any deterrent against what I'm about to do to him?

I transform my hand into the plasma buzzsaw and the man's face goes white. "There won't be any evidence once we kill you and dispose of the body." A cut here and a cut there. We then scatter his pieces all over the Bay so he's never found. The buzzsaw can cut through reinforced concrete, so a human body should be no match for it. It'll be messy but effective.

"What? No, you can't do that." Glory Girl yells and grabs me from behind, pulling me away from the bastard.

"Let me go!" I struggle against her iron grip. If I get a good angle I should be able to punch her with enough strength to bring her shield down and taze her.

"Not until you have calmed down!" Her aura is back in full effect, but so are my implants.

"Oh, please, you want to do this just as much as I do." I shoot a look back at her. "Just give me one reason why we shouldn't kill this trash!"

"I'm not letting you murder a person in cold blood!"

"Would you prefer it if I said that I'm 'putting him down'? Or maybe 'break'. A thing can't be killed, only broken. No one will care if I break a thing, will they?" This argument is so bloody pointless, "Oh, but why are we having this discussion? It's not like I care about your opinion."

There! My fingers close around the Riot Prod, now I just need a good agle-- but my sight is not fully occupied by Taylor staring down at me.

"You might not care about her opinion, but what about mine?"

"Seriously, Ladybug?" Why here? Why now? We already killed people before, and those ones deserved it just as much as this one. Is it because of Glory Girl?

"Yes." Taylor repeats. "Let him go, Glory Girl."

I drop to the ground, feeling like screaming. My only satisfaction is the trail of blood I see leading away from us.

While we argued the gang member tried to flee, but the wounds I inflicted proved too damaging and the guy collapsed without even reaching the end of the alley.

My hands transform back into the medical tool as I approach him, "I'll proceed to remove all the wounds and scars caused by this encounter, so you better stay still."

"What? No! Stay back!" He remains conscious and tries to scramble back but is stopped by the swarm of bugs suddenly covering his face.

"Do as he says." Taylor orders in a chilling voice.

Fuck you, Taylor! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!

And fuck Glory Girl too, who's floating next to me ready to intervene if I try to kill him.

I won't harm him.

As much as I want to, I won't.

"There!" I announce, "I removed all evidence that anything happened to you, so leave before they change their minds."

The man clumsily picks himself up from the ground and, making a guttural sound, he spits at Glory Girl. I take a step forward but then two pairs of hands close around my shoulders. One pair would crush me if they tried, the other pair I don't want to fight.

The man then sprints away leaving behind a faint smell of urine, and I'm released.

"For the record, I deeply disagree with this," I inform them of my displeasure. Not sure if that'll account for anything, but it's there.

"Duly noted." Taylor says with a sharp nod.

It looks as if she's about to tell me something else, but then Glory Girl interrupts.

"Hey, Ladybug." The hero floats next to us, the spit rolling down her forcefield without staining her clothes. Despite everything that happened, she looks calmer now even if she keeps throwing dubious glances in my direction, "Thank you. I already told you this, but sorry for putting you through this."

"I don't need or want your apology." Taylor ignores her as she walks to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Also, we aren't done with that man. Not for a long shot. I tagged him, and he's also carrying one of my bugs."

She-- what?

I check my visor. Yes, he's there! A blinking 'blip' that's steadily getting away. All my anger vanishes as I realize what Taylor just did. Oh, I could kiss her right now! "After this, and without his phone, he'll go straight to his partners!"

"You're planning on following him!" Glory Girl has also put the dots together, "You aren't going to kill them all, are you?"

"No, we aren't." Taylor insists, her voice reaching the edge of her patience, "At least not if we can avoid it," She throws a glance aimed specifically at me, "And we do have a lot of non-lethal options."

Fine, fine. If that's how she wants to handle this, I can accept that. I can live with sparing one gang member in exchange for severely hurting a dozen others.

Yes, I like this plan. I'm excited to be part of it!

"Well," Glory Girl rubs her hands together, "What are we waiting for?"

"Why would we let you come with us?"

"Ladybug!" I yell again. The man's getting away and I don't want to risk him escaping the reach of my visor. "We don't have time to argue about this, and Glory Girl can be helpful." As a human shield, if nothing else, and I don't want her following us around and making a mess where we can't see her, "Your teleporter makes you harder to spot, so go ahead and we'll be close behind." Her bugs also make her harder to ambush, but I don't want to mention that out loud.

"Fine." And without another word, she disappears.

"Okay, follow me." I signal at Glory Girl and with a single leap, I reach the roof of the nearby apartment block. Then I jump again, keeping up with Taylor's teleporter.

Thankfully our guy-- or quarry, I'd say, Isn't going that fast. Every so many meters he glances over his shoulder to check the sky, or takes unnecessary detours across twisting alleys.

If Glory Girl was the only one chasing him, that'd have been enough to lose her, but the gangs still don't know the full extent of Ladybug and Tech Priest's capabilities.

I-- should be careful about referring to myself in third person like that. That road leads to madness.

Noticing that time isn't as essential as we initially thought, Glory Girl catched up to me so we can talk, "Hey, a moment. I need to ask you something. You aren't very-- I don't know how to say this--"

"Normal?" I reply without even a faint trace of mockery or sarcasm, "I'm functional if that's what you're asking." This must be about my little 'episode' back there at the alley. "But you shouldn't worry because I have no interest in senseless acts of violence, I despise animal cruelty, and I have no interest in forcing myself on anyone for the sake of carnal pleasures." Those are the main traits of a sociopath, as I remember them. As long as I don't go out being an asshole, people should leave me alone.

"You don't need to get too detailed." She groans, "I hope you're telling the truth because I very much admire what you two have been doing. But, damn, you actually sound like an AdMech."

I trip, and it's thanks to The Jump controlling my movements that I don't come down rolling over the ground. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, come on! With your costume and the name Tech-priest? Kind of obvious."

This-- this is most definitely unexpected.

And unwelcome.

I did check for the story of Games Workshop and they never released Rogue Trader in this timeline, Zion's arrival throwing it in disarray.

Warhammer Fantasy exists and is fairly popular, but 40k never became a thing here. No one should know about the Adeptus Mechanicus!

"How do you know about it?"

Glory Girl turns around, flying on her back. Now she's just showing off! "I was part of a playgroup that imported tabletop games from Aleph. We disbanded when our game master went to college but it was fun while it lasted."

Fuck me! Of course, a bunch of rich, meddling kids would be my downfall!

"But if it makes you feel better," She continues, "It's not like the name is trademarked. And I never met another person who knew about the setting."

Well, that's something at least.

"Tell me if the group gets back together. I wouldn't mind participating."

"Will do!" She laughs. "I even bought some miniatures from a guy in New York, but I never painted them." The story of my life.

"Sisters of Battle?"

"Eldar, actually."

"Filthy Xeno."

With our minds back on the mission, we continue in silence, and after what feels like close to an hour of aimless wandering I receive a message from Taylor.

"He has reached their base." She says, "It's the white building over there." The place she's marking with her visor is a two-stories house sandwiched between a market and a second house.

Next to me, Glory Girl is listening to the discussion, "Alright!" She raises up, but I stop her. Thankfully she listens.

"Wait, wait! Ladybug, anyone in there that she shouldn't punch?"

The place houses some fifteen people, all young and armed with a variety of weapons. There aren't civilians in there, and our guy is currently banging at the door, maybe hoping to tell the others about what we did.

My observations get confirmed by Taylor, "None." The door opens and our guy rushes in. Time to silence them all. "I'm sending my bugs in."

None of them have any idea of what's going to happen to them.

"Excellent!" I can already taste the screams of the gang members. "You take the ground floor." Then I turn to Glory Girl. "Go, the upper floor is yours."

"That's what I wanted to hear!" She cracks her knuckles and then charges in, ramming through the wall as if she was a cannonball. I can see why she gives Amy so many headaches.

The defenders panic from the unexpected assault, giving her the chance to steal weapons and crush them in her grip. Each shot deflected brings Glory Girl's shield down, but her mobility paired with her aura and Taylor's relentless bug assault makes sure that no one can capitalize on that.

There's a discharge of electricity on the ground floor signaling Taylor's use of the Dark Coil, and half a dozen people go limp.

One of the defenders tries to escape through the hole that Glory Girl caused, but Taylor teleports next to him, smashes his face in with the butt of her tranquilizer rifle, and then shoots him in the neck.

Her appearance throws the rest of the defender in a frenzy.

One pulls out a grenade, but Glory Girl body-smashes him, takes the grenade, and presses it against her chest. There's a muted explosion, but she remains unharmed.

And that's enough time for the Dark Coil to recharge, and with a second swing of Taylor's blade, the rest of the gang goes down.

With things having calmed down, I jump to the roof and from there I make my way down to where Glory Girl is trying to start some small talk.

"Hey, good job here."

Taylor ignores the compliment and walks to me, "Anything here that you can use?"

I look around. There's a lot -and I do mean a lot- of Nazi parafernalia, but also some phones, a couple laptops, a TV-- oh, is that a gaming console? "There is," I confirm and get down to work dismantling the devices.

"Good. I'll tie them up." Taylor announces and pulls out her zip-ties while making it very obvious that she doesn't want to interact with the hero.

And for her part, the other girl pulls out her cellphone. "And I'll call the police to pick them up. Any objection to that?"

Taylor remains quiet, so it's up to me to answer her, "None."

She floats away to make the call, and in a moment she's back. "Okay, they should be here in five minutes."

Not much time but I'm almost done. "Question," I say. "If the police interrogate our guy, won't he speak and tell them what we did?"

"Oh, shit, you're right!" Glory Girls brings a hand to her face, "I guess I'll have to deal with that."

There's a sardonic laugh coming up the stairs as Taylor rejoins us, having finished with the zip-ties, "I wouldn't worry about it. You're rich, pretty, and the daughter of a lawyer. No one will believe that you did anything wrong." Then she turns to me, "I'm done here. See you outside."

"Wait--" Glory Girl tries to reach for her but Taylor has already teleported away, "I really fucked up with her, didn't I?"

I'm a bit speechless myself. I hadn't realized how much Victoria must have reminded Taylor of Emma.

"You did an amazing job pressing every single one of her buttons." Not like that's much of a consolation, but it's something, "I'll try to talk to her, but no promises there."

I take a step to leave but she stops me.

"Hey, wait! Before you go there's something you should know." She makes a pause there. I'm not sure if it's for drama or because she's doing something she shouldn't, "Kaiser wasn't the one to attack Lung's territory."

Oh? They know that he didn't do it? Good to know that the heroes aren't that stupid.

"I assumed as much. The Undersiders aren't in his payroll."

"No, they aren't. But this next part is important, the one who started this and blamed the Empire for it, was Coil." Yes, all that she's telling me are things I already knew or assumed, "Your team hit him hard when you rescued the parahuman children, and this seems to be his way of retaliation."

Wait, that last part I didn't know, "Those children were parahumans?"

"You didn't know?" She cocks her head, "They were victims of a Yangban human trafficking ring."

The Yangban operating in Brockton Bay? Well, Accord was in contact with them, and Accord is also a close contact of Coil.

Shit, this is getting far too big for my taste if we're now dealing with international criminal organizations.

"How do you know all of this?"

She gives me a mischievous smile, "Let's just say that this wasn't the first Empire goon I interrogated, and that I have inside information from the PRT."

Meaning: Gallant talked. Not like I can blame him, who wouldn't want Glory Girl as a girlfriend? She has some amazing-- damn it! System, compensate!

System?

Nothing.

That wasn't her aura, that was just my hormonal-self talking, wasn't it?

"Okay, thanks for the warning." I wave at her, "We'll contact you if we find anything."

And then I jump away to rejoin Taylor.



"Are all heroes like that?!" Taylor cries out into the night sky once we find ourselves several streets away from the Empire's safe house.

"You mean flawed human beings?" That's what we all are, isn't it?

"Oh, don't you go making them sound better!" She swings her arms around, "Armsmaster, the leader of the Protectorate, was a self-centered prick. And Glory Girl, the poster child for New Wave, was a petty bully."

A bully? I honestly think she's projecting a bit here, "I think you're exaggerating."

"Am I? You saw what she did back there."

"Allow me to point out that I did worse."

"Yes! But we are us, and they are heroes! I wanted to believe that the people protecting this city were better than that." And that's why looking up to people is a bad idea. Inevitably you'll end disappointed, "And the worst part was when she tried to manipulate us into not telling what had happened. When next? Will I find out that Emma is a freaking Ward?"

I bite my tongue to not answer that. Emma might not be a Ward, but Sophia is, "I really don't know what to tell you."

She shakes her head in frustration, and then goes suddenly quiet, "Be honest with me here, should we have done it? Should we have killed the guy?"

My eyes widen in surprise underneath my mask, "Why are you asking that?"

"You heard him," Her voice is little more than a whisper, "Not only he confessed what he did but was proud of it. The idea of someone like him walking free makes me sick."

And now she knows how I feel. But, come on! I am the one with tunnel vision here, without Taylor who will point me at the bigger picture? "You did the right thing by stopping me. That way we followed him and did more good."

"And after that? What if they break free and go out to harm more people?" She presses her palms against her face as if holding back a scream, "Sometimes I miss not having powers. Back then everything was so much simpler."

"Welcome to the real world, where everything is complicated and no one will give you a straight answer."

She groans into her hands, "It shouldn't be that way. I don't want it to be that way. Why can't the heroes just be good and the villains just be bad? Instead of that I'm here wondering if killing a person is the right thing to do."

Silence fills the empty space between us, and so I cross it to pat her back, "If it makes you feel better, next time you can turn around and let me do with people like him as I see fit. You won't need to ever know if I killed him or not."

Will she be okay with that? It's the good old 'I won't be lying if I don't know'.

"No." The forcefulness of her statement makes me flinch, "I already forced my decisions on you when I took you to Winslow. I'm not doing that again." Well-- that's something I can appreciate, "I don't want to be like Glory Girl, Emma, or anyone like them. Whatever happens next, I'm taking responsibility for it too. Now come, let's keep patroling for another hour before we go home."

I follow her, hoping that she doesn't come to regret what she just said.

...​
 
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