Magical Girl Escalation Taylor (Worm/Nanoha)

[Silently Watches]

Meltdown 7.x

Sunday, May 15
Kharkiv, Ukraine
Sighing as yet more blood got on his hands, Epoch picked up a cloth and froze the grabby cape laying on the cot. This was one of many reasons he preferred not to be involved in Endbringer fights. They were messy, dangerous things, with a high chance of death and utterly no possibility of getting anything of benefit. Well, perhaps not 'no' possibility, he amended as he flicked a glance at another cape from whom he felt the distinctive tingle of magical potential, but exceedingly little.

At that moment the echo of his power on that possible future recruit faded, and the boy in knight's armor screamed anew as he reached into the boy's soul and flipped the hourglass contained within. Blood slurped back into deep gashes and skin regained its color. One and a half seconds of noise, and the boy passed out yet again. Exactly the same as it had been all the other times he threw the cape into that ten-second loop. He knew why the assembled capes wanted him here. So long as his 'patients' did not truly die the first time around, he could keep them trapped in a never-ending cycle of agony.

Epoch glanced at the healers bustling around him and kept his frustrations to himself. The capes were all working with grim efficiency, but even with him reversing and stopping time and the young hero with the clock costume freezing the most critically injured, the dead and dying just kept piling up. Behemoth had not earned the title of 'Herokiller' for nothing, but that alone did not justify all the casualties flooding in. What in the world was going on out there?

He narrowed his eyes and pictured the only other Adept who had chosen to join him; insisted on joining him, rather, despite knowing it would surely reveal her new allegiance to her former allies. Plain brown hair, sharp cheekbones, too much eyeshadow, a couple of pock marks on her forehead. A few more prods and her face snapped into place in his mind's eye with all the detail of a photograph. Another cape returning to her proper place in time distracted him, but his connection was already sufficiently established that reversing her did not break the spell. Thirteenth Hour, he all but shouted in his head.

«…what…» the other Adept's voice whispered back.

«What's happening?»

There was silence for several long moments before her reply finally made it through. «…attacking Behe… swatting… away… …iendly fire… no one…»

Their connection sputtered and broke, but he took some comfort in how it only fizzled out. This felt exactly the same as all the other times Thirteenth Hour's telepathic ability failed, and while they could not know with certainty that it would feel different if she died, he was going to assume so unless he saw a body.

It was times like this that he wished he had the same predilection for telepathy that his newest recruit did, but that was not the case. He had actually given up that possibility as a pipe dream until she started showing promise for it. She was the single magician within their cabal who could use true telepathy, in fact, even if he and Maclibuin could make themselves audible to her with effort. Sadly, she had shown little talent for anything else.

This was why Calamity Witch was such a promising find.

The grabby cape and her neighbor popped back into real time, and Epoch's eye twitched before he shoved his hand into his pocket to wrap around his watch. The storm of power trapped between bronze and spring screamed at him as it tried to rush into him, furious at being contained. It wanted out.

He was too practiced in working with Maclibuin's spell, however, and he forced the power to trickle out slowly. A stern blink, and the two capes were once more frozen in place. He looked around him again and forced his shoulders to relax. The healers were so busy that no one would notice if these two remained trapped for twenty seconds rather than his usual ten. Nor, he decided after drawing out a little more power, would they notice if the knight's condition improved just a little bit as he was rewound by fifteen seconds this time.

Epoch withdrew his hand before he could give into the temptation to use up more of his limited enhancement. The more power contained within a single object, the harder it was to increase it farther, and the ability he had purchased from Cauldron was a thirsty one indeed. Even with all the rituals performed on his grandfather's pocket watch, he had perhaps two minutes of additional time at his disposal. Not enough to change the fate of anyone here, and that alone was reason to keep from tapping into it. A few seconds here and there he could spare, but he could not waste the charm's power frivolously.

Thirteenth Hour's telepathy. Maclibuin's rituals. His levitation and now projectiles. All of them products of grueling, time-consuming work, and one witch had shamed their trials without even knowing it. How had Calamity Witch, a hero who had been around for only a few months, figured out the secrets of magic in such a short span of time when he had been working on doing the same since he was sixteen? Was she the child of magicians and so had learned it at her parents' knees? Had she stumbled upon another magician and been apprenticed? Was she simply some sort of prodigy, a genius for whom magic sat up and begged?

It was infuriating and depressing and exciting, all at the same time. If she could be convinced to teach them, to part with the mysteries of her craft? Oh, it would be glorious. She had been undecided on whether or not to take him up on his offer, and he had hoped that giving her space to consider it would lead her to calling. Unfortunately, that was not what had happened. The days had come and gone, and still they had heard nothing.

Her silence was the sole reason he was here. She had not called, and he remembered how poorly she had reacted to Planeswalker's visit. He would have to speak to her in person, but that alone was not terrible. He was sure he could sway her to work with them if they spoke face to face again, and as though to spit on his efforts, she had not shown up. Now he was stuck dealing with all the casualties of the fight being laid at his feet for nothing.

A cape in a white cloak finally reached his little quartet of patients and laid her hands on the knight. Only a few seconds passed before she pulled away. "There. He can't rejoin the—"

An explosion roared somewhere close, and the tent shook from its fury. "That was the command center!" shouted one of the less seriously injured capes. Rime? Frost? Some ice generator, anyway. "All healers with me! Clockblocker, you too! Epoch, keep these people stable!"

The crowd of healers rushed out the door, and he swept his eyes over the horde of wailing capes. They expected him to keep all these people looped or frozen in time while they left to pile even more in front of him? And as if on cue, the stupid heroine snapped out of her freeze and got ahold of his robes to smear yet more blood on them.

"Great."


Frost Beam learned.

Not at all how I expected Epoch's character to go, but I'll go with it.

After three weeks without interacting with the Adepts, it's time to make a choice. Are you interested in talking to them and teaching them about magic?
[ ] Yes – Epoch will call in 8.1, and you'll promise to help the Adepts when things calm down a little. You will keep your word, and I will force the issue if you don't do so quickly enough on your own.
[ ] No – You tell Epoch that you have decided not to help. Any potential mages in the Adepts will be lost to you forever. There won't be any other penalties, though.

No write-ins for this vote. It is a binary choice.

 

[Silently Watches]

After Action Report for Arc 7: Meltdown

I'm going to try to focus from now on more on what you avoided than what you missed after the furor of last arc's AAR, but some choices offered prizes others didn't. Don't take it as a condemnation if I say what you could have gotten had you done something else.

Location, Location, Location

• Three choices: go to Kharkiv, go to the dummy warehouse in Philly, go with the Privateers. You decided to deal with the warehouse and the Dragonslayers.
• Had you gone to the Endbringer fight, you had the chance to grab a second spell should you have actually fought Behemoth. There was also the chance to shoot him with Ragnarök, though how much good that would have done I'm keeping secret for now. Next fight, maybe.
• Had you sent Samantha to the fight, she would have gotten a survival roll and needed to beat Behemoth's attack roll to survive. Considering Behemoth got an 82… But! It would have given me another survival roll to work with so Danny could have gotten more than 15, his difficulty check for surviving this fight. As I've said before, a Guardian Beast is technically expendable, or at least replaceable. Your father is (was?) not.
• There was an event waiting for you if you stayed with the Privateers, but you'll find out what happened shortly into Arc 8. Mostly. What they did varied slightly whether you were present or not, though the end result is mostly the same. Mostly because you would have gotten an extra prize in addition to the spell point had you been there.

Saint George

• You decided to try long-range bombardment, and it worked. Oh boy, did it work. Besides the cartridges, the winning tactics were essentially what I had already planned.
• I am disappointed with myself that I didn't think to quote Dresden Files. "The building was on fire, and it wasn't my fault" indeed.
• I'm not sure who came up with the whole "skydive to right above the warehouse" plan. I'm also not sure why anyone thought it was a good idea. It kind of defeats the purpose of attacking from a distance if all you're doing is moving back into midrange, and if you're going to open up with a surprise attack, it's probably better to just attack rather than setting up something elaborate that clues your targets in to the fact that something's about to go down.
• Staying in melee could have gone badly or really well depending on if you wanted to go lethal. Default setting would have seen each engagement go longer, which would mean a chance to get tased the hell out. Lethal, on the other hand… Yikes. Blitz Action with a 10,000 degree plasma blade, and the Dragonslayers would no longer be a problem. Or anything less than medium well.
• Sneaky Ninja, eh. I would have had flashbacks to the Tomb Raider remakes, I suppose. Not that that is a bad thing; I really enjoyed strolling casually through zones after all the enemies developed arrow-headshot syndrome. Again, whether or not to go lethal would have influenced the chance of being taken out, though it would be much less than hand-to-hand.
• Armed with Saint's GPS data, you headed to their base, and Taylor/I made the unilateral decision not to mess with computer stuff you can't understand. If you had brought Tim, he would have understood more of what was going on, but he too would have thought it in bad taste to play around with the Dragonslayers' computers without giving their biggest victim a chance to see what they did to her.

Motivations

• In case you were wondering why Saint was so dead-set on going after the radio, it's because of a few different reasons.
• First, the TSAB may look human, but they are still aliens with an alien culture. He, through Dragon, doesn't know enough about them to know which parts of their culture would come in conflict with real humanity. Even if they have the same priorities that Earthlings do, that doesn't necessarily argue in their favor. All one has to do is look at all the conquests in Earth's history to know that one group of humans discovering new land with another group humans already living there rarely goes well for the natives.
• Second, Taylor's sole contact with these aliens is undeniably a military organization. Not only is she working with alien military, they already dispatched a strike team to Earth, and not just any strike team but one that their leaders describes as discreet. That means, in Saint's mind, there are covert ops soldiers on their way. They won't have any plans to place nice, either, because who sends diplomats with a strike team?
• Third, this is a culture where AIs are commonplace and accepted, even indispensable. On the one hand, yes, that might mean that the TSAB has figured out where the kinks are in building artificial life and have made them completely safe to be around. On the other, there is also a distinct possibility that there is a central malicious AI that decided not to destroy mankind but rather to rule the world behind the scenes. An AI like this would surely do its best to help another of its kind rise up and take over its own world, which means the central AI and Dragon must never under any circumstances come into contact with each other.
• Ironically, were this pre-StrikerS Saint would be close to right, though the puppetmaster was not an AI but three brains-in-a-jar.
• Saint tried destroying the exploration/recovery ship in 6.13-14 to try to destroy Dragon and Perfect Storm, but once that failed, he decided the next best step was to ruin the sole line of communication between Calamity Witch and the TSAB. Hence why he ran for the trap Taylor set up. The next step would probably be to try to go down to the Agharti himself to find the "dangerous artifact", which he had plans to use as a bargaining chip to make the TSAB back off at worst or reverse-engineer and use as a weapon against the alien invaders at best.

Meanwhile…

• Behemoth's and Danny's rolls were whack, yo. I had a hard time deciding whether Danny's 4 (or the other low rolls @Always Late and @Faraway-R provided) would mean his death or not. As you can see, I ultimately decided 'no', but he's still in bad, bad shape.
• So here's what happened. The Red Gauntlet is only mentioned in a Word of Wildbow, but they're a paramilitary group of Russian capes that oppose the Elitnaya Armiya, the government-backed Russian capes who spend most of their time hunting down and killing other capes, independents and their own members both. The Gauntlet's Tinkers were working with a number of scientists at the Kharkiv Institute of Physics and Technology to create an anti-Endbringer weapon. What they came up with was a railgun-cannon that fired dimensional-shifted tank shells, the plan being to use dimensional shenanigans to get the shells past an Endbringer's outer layers and into what they assumed would be softer and squishier innards.
• Keep in mind that until the canon Leviathan Brockton Bay fight, nobody knew the Endbringers kept getting denser and denser they further they went in.
• Chevalier and Miss Militia told you basically what went wrong. Even though the shells themselves weren't a danger, Behemoth did NOT appreciate being shot at with a half-assed Sting. Too bad for everybody, between his super-high rolls and Danny's low rolls, his directed roar knocked a shell back towards the city and into the command center. Cue Danny's traumatic brain injury.
• If you look back at those rolls, you'll notice there was an "Oh Shit" roll. That was to determine if there was a second payload the cannon could fire. Since that roll passed, I'll just keep the idea in the back of my head for maybe the next Endbringer fight. It's… certainly a "desperate measures" strategy for dealing with them.
• Just so you know, had you failed the "Oh Shit" roll, his DC would have been 60, not 15. Higher chance for both him and Samantha to have died.
• As I mentioned after the vote, had you gone to the fight yourself, you could have tried to talk the Gauntlet capes down from shooting the big gun. They would have gotten a roll to determine how willing they were willing to listen to an unknown American cape. Depending on how things went, Danny may or may not have gotten a survival roll.

Acquaintances

• You decided that you do want to stay in touch with the Adepts. Very well, but keep in mind what I said during that vote. You will speak with them soon, one way or another. Don't make me force the issue, because I will if you don't get a move on.
• Had you chosen not to teach them, they would not have bothered you again, but at the same time you would have lost all access to those Linker Cores.

Spells for Sale

• You could learn one new spell because you did not fight in the Endbringer battle. You chose Frost Beam.
• Looking at what's planned for next arc, I feel the need to point out two things that should be obvious BEFORE you come up with plans around this spell.
  1. This is the first spell in a skill branch.
  2. This is an ice spell. You have a fire-based Mana Conversion Affinity.
  Don't expect a spray-and-pray strategy to work out how you want it to, nor should you view this as an end-all-be-all game-changer.
• None of the spells in your skill trees are worthless, and that includes Frost Beam. It's good at what it does, but it doesn't do everything.

 

[Silently Watches]

Civil War 8.1

Tuesday, May 17
"I am sorry that it's taken this long to call you back," you tell the floating screen, "but I've had other things on my plate recently. I didn't forget, I just haven't had time."

"I can understand that," Epoch replies. "You just need to understand in return how important this is to us. It is not a side-venture or distraction. Understanding and mastering magic is the Adepts' entire raison d'être. We have all sacrificed everything we had to learn it. So far I have only told the others that I have been feeling out an expert who knows what she is doing, but even with nothing more than that we have all been on tenterhooks waiting to hear whether we will be taught or will have to continue fumbling in the dark. For the first time in years, we have hope again."

You roll your eyes. Epoch is laying the guilt trip on thick, and it isn't working. "Look, I get it. You want this so badly you can almost taste it. I understand, I really, truly do. But I have other responsibilities, too. Not to mention," you add with a bit of bite to your voice, "I am a hero. I became a hero to break the stranglehold villains had on my home and cast them down into the ash and embers where they belong. To then teach magic, my magic, to a bunch of villains? You can see why that might not sit well with me."

Another screen pops into existence, and your eyebrows rise at Dragon's name floating next to Epoch's. "We can discuss all this more in detail when I see you. Right now I need to deal with something else that just popped up. I'll call you later." A flick of your fingers banishes Epoch's audio connection. "Hey Dragon, it's Calamity. Where'd you get my number?"

"I asked Miss Militia for it," comes her dry answer. "She was surprised that we were in contact. You never told her we talked?"

"I don't think I need to clear everything I do with the Protectorate," you shoot back.

"True, true, but there are some things other people should know about before you go about doing them, don't you think? It keeps them from worrying when they find out the details afterwards. Details like, I don't know, the Dragonslayers being captured in Philadelphia in the middle of an Endbringer fight." You can almost feel Dragon's stern glare from here. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"You're welcome." What is Dragon's problem? The Dragonslayers were among her worst opponents personally, practically her archenemies. Or is this all an ego thing and she wanted to be the one to take them down? You respect her, but if she's pissed off just because you accomplished what she couldn't…

"What were you thinking, taking on all three of them by yourself? That was dangerous and foolhardy and you could have gotten yourself killed!"

"You're talking like you think they surprised me. That can't be farther from the truth." You shake your head with a faint sigh. "They didn't ambush me, quite the opposite. That was a trap just for them, and they walked right into it. They didn't know I was there until they were already out of the fight. I was in no danger whatsoever."

"A trap?" Dragon finally asks. In the meantime, Lacey pokes her head into your room and points behind her, a grim expression on her face. What now? "A trap indicates you lured them in and you knew exactly when they were coming. How?"

"That's my little secret, for now at least. I'll tell you later. Besides, I have something to show you. Just give me a little time to get everything ready." Lacey points again, more forcefully this time, and you give her a nod. "I'll let you know when, okay? Just have a little patience."

Dragon gives you a perfunctory goodbye before you dismiss her screen as well and follow the giant of a woman into the living room. She and Kurt have taken to spending most of the evenings with you and Sam in the apartment. Apparently, your dad updated his will when you all moved to Philadelphia in case he die— in case he wasn't there to take care of you at the moment. They are just here while he's still in the hospital, and once he's better they won't have to.

You force down the lump that tries to fill your throat every time you think about your dad lying motionless in that bed. He doesn't look any better now than right after the battle, but it was his brain that was injured. You can't watch that heal like a cut or a burn. And it takes time for that to heal, so just because he's still completely dependent on life support doesn't mean he won't get better.

Right?

Lacey comes to a stop behind the couch where Kurt and Samantha are sitting, and you stare with wide eyes at the war zone displayed on the screen. That isn't Africa or South America, though. You recognize those buildings.

"—is sure why the Mara Salvatrucha gang has chosen now to make such a move, but it is not without precedent," an older black man is saying to the local news anchor. "Only a few years ago, they set off a similar gang war in Corpus Christi in Texas, and just like here in Philly, in doing so they set themselves up against all the gangs and independent parahumans who lived in the area. It is, however, the first time they have moved so blatantly during an Endbringer fight. Attacking the Winter Hill gang would be a large enough move, but to do that and kill both of the Warlock's capes? That is unusually aggressive even for them."

"Why do you think they have taken such actions then, Dr. Hammett?" asks the anchor.

"I cannot say for certain, but the most likely reason is that it has to do with the PRT capturing the local branch's second in command three weeks ago. MS-13 has never let major defeats like that one go unpunished. It explains why they also attacked Winter Hill, who took part in that fight alongside the PRT."

"Storm? Can you—"

Your Intelligent Device is way ahead of you, and the screen that appears now has Miss Militia's name on it. "Calamity Witch?" the heroine asks.

"It's me. What's going on?"

"What does it look like? The Maras are making a push to take over the city, and they aren't pulling any punches. They've completely thrown the Unwritten Rules out the window."

"If they aren't playing by the rules anymore," Samantha says without looking away from the now-muted television, "that means we aren't either, doesn't it? Don't bother capturing them; if they're shooting to kill, just like they did last time, then we return the favor. Am I right?"

There is silence on the other end of the line for several long moments. "The dead cannot be questioned, and they cannot be put on trial. Both are aspects of the American justice system we should respect whenever possible. Having said that, upholding those aspects does not mean you should throw your lives away in the process."

"What about the other gangs? They're just as much involved in this gang war as MS-13 is," you point out.

"True, but whatever their reasoning, right now their actions are to the benefit of the people of Philadelphia. We won't ignore crimes being committed in front of our faces, but they are small fry by comparison. We need to focus on MS-13."

The screen goes blank and disappears, and Kurt looks at the two of you with hard eyes. "I hope I'm wrong, but it sounds like they won't even try to stop the gangs during all this. This would be the perfect time to arrest them all, when they're too tired from fighting each other. Miss Militia was talking like they're going to be fighting alongside them, for heaven's sake!"

"Maybe that's for the best," Samantha says, unmuting the TV. "We still need to live in what's left of the city after this gang war is over. If keeping everything intact means picking the gangs off one by one rather than trying to eat an elephant in a single bite, that is the better choice, isn't it?"

"Except that just makes it look like the heroes are okay with the gangs as long as they don't cause too much trouble! If the Protectorate is actually going to side with villains rather than stopping them, how can anyone believe that they will ever try to clean up the city for good?!"

Lacey lays a hand on Kurt's shoulder, but he shrugs it off as he stands up and storms out of the room. The front door slams shut not a minute later.

She stares at the hallway for a long moment before turning back to you with a grimace. "He isn't mad at you two, you know," she says a bit unnecessarily. You knew it was not you he was railing at, and you can see his point. You also can't help but remember how Cailleach helped you fight off the Beasts at the party, nor how Winter Hill sided with the Protectorate to save the PRT agents when the Maras attacked the transport that you now realize contained their second-in-command. "It's just… This hits too close to home. For all of us. Back when the Slaughterhouse 9 rolled through Brockton Bay, the Protectorate fought alongside the Empire and the Marche and then were surprised when those two gangs were stronger than ever. Even if New Wave took out Marquis and the Marche fell apart afterwards, it didn't stop the Nazis from grabbing hold of Brockton's throat and never letting go. Things aren't as bad here, but they weren't as bad before the Nine came to visit, either. He's just scared that we're watching the same thing happen again."

Samantha takes a few minutes to all but shoo Lacey away, which the woman does not fight against too hard considering her obvious desire to calm down her husband, and once it is just the two of you left in the apartment Samantha props her hip against the back of the couch and meets your eyes. Determination and well-banked fury swirl within her head just as it does within you.

"Well, Taylor? How are we going to deal with this?"


That's one way to kick off the arc, isn't it? This is gonna get messy.

Moratorium because this vote will determine the course of the arc and will have a huge impact on all future arcs taking place in Philly.

• Stay out of this altogether – Let the gangs destroy themselves, that's just fine. No skin off your nose. While they are doing their thing, you will use the time for social, exploration, or training activities.
• Fight alongside the villains – The gangs are a stain on this city, but right now they are the lesser evil compared to MS-13. So long as they are focused on removing the Maras, you will lend them a hand.
• Destroy all the gangs – The other gangs aren't as bad as the Maras, but a lesser evil is still evil. Let the villains wear themselves out fighting each other, and then you will swoop in to take down the victors.

 

[Silently Watches]

[] Fight alongside the gangs


Civil War 8.2

You turn away from Samantha and frown at nothing. This is a bad situation all around, one with no good answers.

You don't want to help the gangs. They're villains, the same kind of people you vowed to destroy. The Adepts were one thing; you might be able to sway them to the side of the heroes in exchange for magic lessons. Working alongside villains to fight the Endbringers is also something different. On those days the fight is not between good and evil but between man and monster, and the alternative to allying together is mutual destruction. But this is not an Endbringer fight. It would mean fighting together because it is simply more convenient.

On the other hand, trying to fight all the gangs at once? That isn't possible, not in the long term. All it would take is one villain saying something, and you know they would, and next time you would not have the element of surprise. The gangs might even start hunting you down in addition to MS-13, and as the Maras proved, you're tough. You're not invincible.

Your frown becomes a grimace as another fact comes to mind. It is all well and good to make plans about how to stop villains when they are just faceless masks, but that's not what all of them are anymore. Cailleach helped you fight off the Beasts at the ill-fated party. Jotunn stood with Chevalier and Solaire with Miss Militia during the battle over the transport. Cailleach immediately made sure you were okay after you ate an RPG, only leaving you alone when Samantha threatened her. The rest of the city's villains you don't know, but for them to put themselves at risk by trusting the Protectorate makes it harder to think of them as irredeemable. They aren't complete monsters. There is some glint of goodness within them, thought how deep it is buried is another question entirely.

So fighting everybody at once is out of the question. The idea of just… sitting this one out is tempting, but it isn't you. You stayed away from the Behemoth fight because you ran the risk of being an aid to the Endbringer and a danger to your allies, not to mention because it was the best chance you would ever get to nab Saint, but you do not have that excuse here.

"God, Kurt's going to hate us."

"I don't think he will hate us," argued Samantha. "Be disappointed, likely, but we will can correct that misconception when it becomes an issue."

You shake your head. "From the way he was talking, it won't be that easy. Not with him, not with the other Privateers. This is all but spitting in their faces."

Hands wrap gently around your shoulders. "Then why do it?"

"We're studying the pre–Civil War era in Mrs. Mitchell's class, and a line from one of Lincoln's speeches is going around and around in my head. 'A house divided against itself cannot stand'. The threat is right there in front of us: MS-13. We can fight among ourselves once we aren't in danger anymore, but right now either we stop the Maras together or we all die together." You wave your hand at the television, which has now moved from covering the gang war to the stock market. "Because it's clear that's what they're aiming for now."

Thankful for your Guardian Beast's silent support, you tap one finger against the jewel hanging at your chest. "Storm, prepare an audio message to send to Miss Militia as a voice mail. Start.

"Miss Militia, I don't like it, but I understand why you're working with the gangs. If there's anything I can do to help, you know how to reach me. We lost Brockton Bay. We can't lose our new home too."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wednesday, May 18

«You know,» you comment to Samantha, telepathy necessary if you wish to be heard over the whistling winds, «when I told Miss Militia to call me if she needed me, I kind of expected it to take more than twenty-four hours.»

«Technically it did. She called during the evening news. It's 9 o'clock. That's twenty-seven hours.»

You shoot the raccoon-woman a venomous glare and fly a little faster. MS-13 had been busy, and their roster is much larger than you previously assumed. From the way Miss Militia had described the course of events, a squad of twenty men were spotted causing trouble, and the PRT moved out to deal with them. Then another group popped out, and Sere and most of the remaining troopers went after that one. Fairyland moved against a third. Hellbeast, a Brute and self-proclaimed antihero, teamed up with Circus of all people to fight a fourth; you didn't even know the Brockton Bay villain had moved to Philadelphia! Chevalier and Mishmash went after team number five, and by that point things were getting ridiculous. How in the world were there over a hundred Maras in town? Worse, you knew there had to be more. These were just the unpowered members, and no one had yet seen Cadejo. You were proven right when a sixth team had Miss Militia and Pounce rolling out.

Now you and Samantha are headed after lucky number seven.

Automatic gunfire rings out in the night, and you take a sharp turn towards your opponents. When you look down, you laugh morbidly. Either Lady Luck is smiling down on you, or somebody took a wrong turn somewhere.

Winter Hill has already engaged the Maras.

Not all that's left of the Irish mobsters, unfortunately. That would just be far too convenient. It's just Jotunn, Solaire, and a half-dozen of their little gun-wielding friends. The frost giant is some seven feet tall already and slowly pushing an ice-covered car sideways down the street, and behind the barrier follows the rest of the group. Whenever the Brute stops to catch his breath and let the car thaw somewhat, the gangsters move around the edges to fire at the Mexicans. Solaire meanwhile throws her oddly shaped arming sword like a short javelin, and only after it tears through a cartel member and sets him on fire does she flick her wrist to conjure a flame that grows into a replacement blade. One of these days you're going to figure out why she wears that heavy mace on her back when she can create all the weapons she could ever want.

Depending on how things go, that might even be today.

The Maras are also under cover, mostly inside a nearby building but several outside behind cars or dumpsters. The thought of hitting the building with Solar Wrath is tempting, but you shake it away. As the fight with the Dragonslayers showed, that spell can have negative consequences, and you don't know if there's anyone else in the building. Even on nonlethal the chance of collapsing the building is too high to leave to chance.

Instead a Flare Shooter hits a gang member carrying a handheld grenade launcher. His partner swings his rifle to aim at you, but that leaves them both open to the bullets from the Winter Hill soldiers that splatter the contents of their heads onto the road.

Nausea wells up in you, but you force it down. It's disgusting and visceral, but it still isn't as bad as disintegrating people in nuclear fire the way you did in Durham.

Element of surprise gone, you and Samantha drop from the sky to land behind Jotunn's car. "Hey there," you tell him with a tight smile. "You looked like you could use a hand."


Choose your battle plan. As always, lethal force requires votes to that effect.

[ ] Front Line – Get in their faces and hit them till they stop moving. You're going to get shot, but that's what your upgraded Barrier Jacket is there for.
[ ] Centerfielder – Stay high in the sky and pick the gang off one by one by one. A shield will be needed unless you want to worry about RPGs again.
[ ] Wing Back – You learned your lesson last time: don't get hit. Dodge and shield, keep the heat off your allies, and get a few hits in if possible.

Just like last arc, I do have some default plans should there not be a consensus on tactics, but good plans will earn a bonus on the outcome rolls. (Yep, dem rolls again, though they're different from previous fight rolls.) Bad plans, on the other hand, will suffer a penalty.

 

[Silently Watches]

[] Plan Sky Command Restrained Version

Civil War 8.3

The blue giant shares a look with the flame-wielding knight for a moment before returning his gaze to you. "Need a hand? Not really. But I would never turn down the offer of assistance in these circumstances."

"Tell me you have a plan," Solaire asks in a less stuffy voice. "The best we had was 'get close enough to beat them to a pulp', and it's working out… not as well as we kinda hoped."

"To be honest, that's what a lot of our plans end up being," Samantha replies with a chuckle.

You shoot her an aggrieved look. You have better plans than that! Most of the time, anyway. "No point in me going inside after them. I'm artillery first and foremost. I can start shooting everyone on the top floor and work my way down while the three of you work your way up."

Jotunn nods. "That would work. Just one problem. How will you know where everyone is? I'm pretty sure there are other people inside besides these punks. We don't know it's a hostage situation, but we don't know it isn't, either."

"My attacks are nonlethal unless I want them to be." Which does make spray-and-pray a valid tactic, though still not the best one. The best way to deal with this requires something else. «I'm going to have my hands full flying and shooting. Shielding, too,» you add with a mental grimace at the memory of the last time you tangled with these guys. «Do you mind casting Wide Area Search for me and linking me to the feed?»

«You know I don't, but are you sure that's the best idea?» Samantha eyes the Winter Hill capes. «We haven't exactly been hiding that spell, but we sure haven't advertised it, either. There won't be any putting that cat back in the bag.»

«They'll know about it. That isn't the same as being able to do anything about it.»

Samantha shakes her head and cups her hands. "If you're sure. Don't make me say 'I told you so'."

"Dare I ask?" Jotunn wonders as he glances back and forth between you and the softball-sized ball of light in Samantha's hands.

"Just wait."

The ball breaks apart, and sparks zip around to blanket the area. Two holograms pop up in front of your Guardian Beast before she flicks one of them over to you. You position it to the side within easy reach and take to the skies once again. A few more Maras have crawled out of the woodwork while the four of you were having your little powwow, but while they try to shoot you down the triangular shield that forms in front of you prevents anything from slipping through. You upgraded your Barrier Jacket following the RPG incident, and since your shield is based on your Jacket you know it is tougher now than ever.

What will eventually be needed to break though, you have no idea, but it's more than this.

The other three were not idle while you were distracting MS-13 and setting up your perch. Samantha is pointing out different things on her own screen, likely where the targets and innocents are if the way some of the red dots on your screen turn blue is any indication. Lesson finished, Solaire steps back and banishes the sword still in her hands. Drawing the mace out of the sling on her back, she does something with her hand in front of her out of your field of vision.

The effect is obvious. A wave of flame races up her arm and over her torso, in its wake leaving plates of armor forged from still-molten gold. Seconds pass, and now the redhead with the pixie cut and yellow domino mask is gone. What stands in her place is a gleaming knight straight out of a fairy tale. Jotunn sloughs off the overlarge fur coat so he can grow to his full ten-foot height, white tribal tattoos standing out starkly from his blue skin and frost already forming around his feet. Samantha adjusts her fedora.

The three capes leave the cover of the car and charge at the enemy.

You can't help but wince when you see the result of their sudden attack. Jotunn hits the quartet first, his lanky build not enough to casually sweep them away but still enough to grab one gangster's head and fling him into the opposite wall. You carefully ignore the possible causes of the strange shattering sound that follows. As they do not possess such long legs, Samantha and Solaire arrive a few moments later. The raccoon woman rips the gun out of one man's hands and beats him over the head and chest with it until he falls; the pyrokinetic, on the other hand, wields her mace to brutal effect and slams it into her own target's head. The last visible Mara turns his rifle on Solaire, but the bullets do nothing to her, and he stops once the mace sends him to the ground as well.

You can't help but blink in surprise at how quickly that went. A total of twenty gunmen, and just the three Brutes already took out nearly a third of that number before running into the building. This wasn't going to take long.

Eying the second story of the short apartment building, you roll your head and shake out your hands. Might as well start on your contribution. A quick reposition has the Wide Area Search screen between you and the building in question, and a couple of taps turns the overhead map into an overlay so you can see where all the targets and hostages are. A slider to the side fills in the walls, giving you a true 3D map of the interior. No need to send your bullets through people's walls when they can fly around corners.

A pack of Flare Shooters slip inside via an open window much slower than you normally move them, but you aren't attacking just yet. Selecting one at random, you send it down the hall, around the corner, along the ceiling, and down. The red dot turns yellow; the blue dot that had been between the corner and the red dot scurries away. You eye a brace of red dots and take them down just as swiftly. None of them are dead, not on your end anyway. Miss Militia might have hinted that lethal force would be overlooked, but you are still a hero at the end of the day.

By now a few of the gunmen have figured out what you are doing, but their bullets do just as much to the shield floating between you and them as those fired earlier, and their attempts to shoot you down are quickly aborted when the Winter Hill soldier hanging around below you fire back at them.

In all honesty, the fight ends more with a whimper than a bang. Several more fireballs force the Maras to abandon their hostages, and the few that try to slip out the back fall to a clump of Shooters waiting for just such an escape attempt. The rest decide to take their chances against the Brutes, which ends how it always does when normal humans decide to fight parahumans who can't be hurt. A quick confirmation that all the previously red dots are either the yellow of unconsciousness or the black of death, and you drift gently to the ground in front of the apartment and dismiss your shield. "That was easier than I thought it would be," you admit when the trio returns.

"With all four of us in play, it was never going to be difficult," Jotunn says with a dismissive wave of his hand as he straightens up; you always thought you were tall, but truly height like that must be a pain to deal with on a day to day basis. "It was much easier with you attacking from a distance and hemming them in, though. Your assistance is appreciated."

"I didn't do it to help you. I did it to save the people stuck inside," you throw back with a scowl.

"Regardless of what your intent was, the effects are appreciated nonetheless." The giant starts to shrinking, his color diminishing as he drops down to mid-six-foot if your guess is right. Still some blue to him, though, and you can't help but wonder how tall he is without any help from his powers. He does not notice your contemplation but instead continues, "Besides, I think we might have more similarities than you assume. At the end of the day, we are both working toward what we see as the best interests of the people we have sworn to protect. My group just happens to be smaller."

"Is now really the time for philosophy?" grouses Solaire before you have the time to think up a good response to that because really? Her armor consumes itself in another wave of fire, and she reaches her hand out for Samantha to shake. "You were pretty handy with those clubs you grabbed. You ever want to spar all out, look me up."

Samantha's response is perfectly neutral. "I will keep the offer in mind."

Perfect Storm chimes, and an audio connection from Miss Militia's phone replaces the Wide Area Search window. "Calamity Witch, do you need reinforcements?"

"No reinforcements. Just a prison transport. And a couple of body bags," you add with a glance at the body lying on the other side of the road. "Some of us weren't quite as careful as others."

"They were holding innocents hostage," Jotunn cuts in loudly enough that Miss Militia can hear him. "The Unwritten Rules provide no protection for those who flout them."

You hear Miss Militia take a breath, but whatever retort she is about to unleash dies out. "Regardless, Chevalier just called an all-clear. It seems like any Maras who haven't been captured already have fled."

"What, all at once?" That sounds odd, to say the least.

"I don't like it, either. It was too coordinated, almost like they're planning something."

As if cued by her words, an explosion rings out in the distance. You share a glance with Samantha before the two of you are airborne and headed in that direction. The source of the disturbance turns out to be the PRT headquarters of all places, with agents in full body armor pouring out the doors like ants from a hill. From the way they are storming a nearby building, it looks like they have that angle well in hand, so instead you float over to take a look at the burned and broken rooftop on one end of the building. Try as you might, you cannot remember what this part is.

Samantha changes into her pet form and wriggles inside, then returns a couple of minutes later. "I think they were aiming for the PRT's armory," she says once she is human again. "They missed, but not by much, and if the PRT didn't build their office so sturdily it still might have done the job. Mortar fire is what some of the agents inside were talking about."

"How many Maras does Cadejo have on hand?" you wonder out loud. "Seven groups, 140 men in total, all for a distraction?"

"Some of them escaped, so he probably didn't plan on losing all of them. Even if he lost all the men he sent out tonight, if it were in exchange for crippling the PRT? That would be a good trade on his end. Not to mention," she adds darkly, "I don't think everybody's necessarily local. MS-13 is a Mexican cartel. Between their other branches in the States and those still in their home country, he has a lot of bodies he can call on. He would just have to sell it to his bosses. As Jotunn just proved, never underestimate the ego of gang leaders."

The implications of that are anything but comforting. "This war is just getting started."


That went well. And such an interesting decision in the plan; I need to figure out what to do with that.

Anyway, the vote for this chapter is what spell you want to learn. You should know where they are by now.

 

[Silently Watches]

Civil War 8.4

Thursday May 19

"Taylor! Can you come over here?"

You look up at Lacey's call, your eyes flicking over to the clock. Not even five-thirty yet. After the distraction and artillery strike on the PRT headquarters last night, you don't know whether MS-13 plans to attack again tonight or take the time to plan, but it is unfortunately still too early to say for sure. There is still plenty of time for them to cause trouble. That's partly why you want to get your homework over and done with already, so you don't have to worry about coming back home after a fight and have to stay up until the wee hours of the morning to finish off an essay.

Truly the worst part about being a teenaged superhero: you still need to go to school.

Lacey and Kurt are waiting for you in the living room, along with Tim and surprisingly Ramirez, one of the former Dockworkers you don't know as well as some others. He does not look pleased to be here, but try as he might he cannot run off thanks to the iron grip Tim has on his elbow. The Gadgeteer looks none too happy, and once you join Samantha on the couch he give Ramirez a little shake. "Okay, Ramirez. Tell them what you told me earlier."

"Do I have to?" he whines.

"Either you tell them or I will, and I won't try to cover for your screw-up."

Now you and your Guardian Beast share worried glances with Lacey and Kurt. What in the world are they talking about?

"Fine, fine. I get it." Ramirez takes a deep breath before he tells you, "Okay, you know this whole thing with MS-13? We… mighta helped kick off the whole shebang."

"What," growls Kurt. You, on the other hand, stare at him. All this loss of life, the bombing of the PRT, all of it is the Privateers' fault? Or part of it, anyway?

Ramirez glances over at Tim, but the mage's face might as well have been carved from stone for all the encouragement it offered. "Yeah, I know. It sounds really, really bad. We weren't expecting it to go down like this. The whole city wasn't supposed to go to hell.

"Me and some of the boys got the idea back when Danny ran off to Russia or wherever to deal with Behemoth. We knew a bunch of Winter Hill's capes were going there, too, and from what Danny said way back when, all cape crime stops on Endbringer days, right? It got me thinking, hey, if Winter Hill thinks nothing's gonna happen, nobody's gonna be guarding their stuff. So I grabbed a couple of guys and we went after one of their drug houses. Only two guys on guard, and they were easy to knock out before we went inside. 'Course, we didn't just hit them," he says with a proud smile. "See, we had already thought about what the best way to cover our tracks was, so before they went nighty night I yelled some Spanish at the guys, and we were dressed up kinda like the Maras do, ski masks and all. 'Swhy the news reported the Maras did it, because the guards thought that's who did. Took the money like normal, but we took the drugs with us so we could get rid of them somewhere else. Real Maras wouldn't have burned up all the product; they would have taken it with them to sell for themselves. After that, it was just a matter of letting the guards wake up and tell the story, and then Winter Hill's going hard and heavy after MS-13 for breaking the whole Truce thing."

"You tried to frame MS-13 as Truce-breakers?" Samantha asks in a stunned flat voice.

Ramirez nods. "Yep. We can't go after Winter Hill right now, right? Even before the Protectorate called the whole Truce thing a couple of weeks back, they had too many men and too many capes. Can't go after MS-13 because they have us outmanned, too, and even though they only had two capes before one of them got captured, they still have Cadejo. We're having enough trouble with Fairyland. Instead of fighting either one of them, we set things up so they're going after each other. Winter Hill wants revenge for hitting them during an Endbringer fight, the Maras don't know why Winter Hill is after them but hit back just as hard. Doesn't matter who comes out on top, the winner's still been bled out and makes for easy pickings. Easier, anyway. And it isn't like nobody'd believe the Maras would do just that. It was after the whole Truce went out that Cero got himself captured, and the Maras went nuts trying to get him back." He points at you. "Not to mention, shooting rockets at the boss's daughter? No way we're gonna let that one slide."

"No, instead you just kicked off a city-wide gang war."

"That wasn't part of the plan, Lacey, and you know it. It was just supposed to be Winter Hill and the Maras, and the Maras weren't supposed to know this was coming until it was too late to get ready. We had nothing to do with them killing the Warlocks. They were already going to start this mess, so we didn't do anything wrong in the big picture, now did we?"

Kurt sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "What you did wrong was you didn't tell anybody you were going to do this. Even if everything went according to plan, it was going to end in a mess. Good tactical plan, bad strategy. If you had asked Alexander or Danny or me, we would have told you that."

"Asked Danny, or Captain?" asks Ramirez in a dark tone. "You've seen it too, haven't you? The longer we went, the more the boss started treating this like a cape would. Holding back, keeping things stable, not rocking the boat too much. Fairyland has been going easier on us, and you know it. It's because we aren't doing the same thing we did in Brockton Bay, hammering the Merchants as hard as we could. We're playing games now. Just like the gangs do, just like the PRT does. And while we're running around not getting anything done, people are suffering. If we're just gonna be another bunch of flashy heroes instead of actually making a difference, what's the point?"

"The point is to stop the gangs without making them crush everyone around them in their death throes," you say.

"Not gonna happen that way, darling. Push them hard enough that they feel it, and they're gonna fight back. Now, ten years, don't matter. It's all gonna be the same in the end, so the longer you spend not pushing them, the more people they hurt before they're put down for good."

"When Danny wakes up, we can discuss how we're going to handle things in the future. All of us."

Ramirez scoffs at Kurt's statement and yanks his arm out of Tim's grip. "When he wakes up? Come on, Kurt, you know that's never gonna happen. Danny's good as dead."

Good as dead. The words pound in your ears, and something dark and thick burns through your veins. "Get out," someone says, her voice soft and hateful. It's only when everyone looks your way that you realize it was you.

Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, Ramirez finally gets out, "Look, Taylor, I didn't mean it like that, but ghrrk."

You aren't sure when Samantha moved. One second she is sitting next to you, and the next she has one hand bunched up in Ramirez's shirt just below his chin and is holding him off the ground. "Didn't you hear?" she asks sweetly. "She said get out." A sharp motion sends Ramirez flying out of sight, a thud marking his collision with a wall. A few moments later the door slams shut.

Samantha comes back and wraps you in her arms, and you force yourself not to break down. He's wrong. He has to be. You have to get your dad back.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx​

Friday, May 20

You drift through the night sky alongside Samantha, eyes staring unfocused at the sea of lights below you. Nothing happened last night, thankfully; after Ramirez's comments, you were in no state of mind to fight, and if you had tried, you don't know what would have happened. For the Maras to hold back two nights in a row is too much to ask for. Something is going to happen.

Sure enough, Perfect Storm throws up an audio screen. "Calamity Witch, this is Protectorate Console," says an unknown man's voice. You've heard Chevalier's voice before, so you assume this can only be Sere.

"Console, this is Calamity. I hear you. What's up?"

"Trouble. MS-13 has deployed a new cape, one we haven't seen before. Fairyland has engaged, but they are requesting assistance. They're on the south edge of Passyunk Square."

"Copy that. Calamity Witch and Samantha on our way." You cut the connection and turn towards the specified shopping district. "Hey, Sam? All Sere said was that there was a new cape. He didn't mention anything about anyone else with him."

"And yet Fairyland is calling for help," she finishes with a nod. "I noticed that, too. Either he thought we would assume gang members with guns, or this cape is a tough enough fight on his own that he can take on three villains who held off the Maras and Winter Hill on their own."

Another screen appears. "Calamity Witch, we just got word of trouble," Alexander tells you. "Passyunk Square. Some new cape."

You knew Tim spent a few minutes fiddling with a pair of radios this week so they could tune into the police scanners' frequencies, but that was still faster than you expected for the Privateers to catch word of this fight. "We know. The Protectorate just called us. Samantha and I are en route."

"Hold up for a few minutes. Carl and I are suiting up in the power armor as we speak."

"The fight is going on now."

"I realize that, but we're moving as fast as we can. Things will be more difficult if we attack at different times without a plan. Just a couple of minutes, Taylor, that's all we're asking for."

Too bad for them, you have already arrived at the fight, and it's the worse of the two scenarios Samantha described. A man in camouflage pants and jacket is fighting off stone dwarves, the only indications that he is a cape at all his color luchador mask and the fact that he can grab the aforementioned dwarves' heads and crush them without difficulty. On the other side of the alley in which they fight are three women in differently colored ball gowns and domino masks and behind them a row of tiara-ed gang members with pistols who are shooting relentlessly at the Mexican Brute. The storm of bullets are doing exactly what you would expect.

The villainess in blue throws something small and glittery, and the glass ball shatters as soon as it hits the Brute. That would be Cinderella, then. The shards produced by the explosion instantly grow again, this time into spikes four feet long if they're an inch, but the tips of these glass lances snap off instead of poking through his skin.

Snow White in her yellow dress stomps one foot on the ground to call up more dwarves to replace those destroyed in Cinderella's attack, and that makes the pink-gowned woman Sleeping Beauty. Why she isn't singing this Brute to sleep you don't know for sure, but you suspect she has already tried and failed. That's all three of Fairylands' capes' powers nullified. No wonder they called for help.

"Alexander, what's your ETA again?" you ask through the still-open channel.

"Ninety seconds. Two minutes tops."

The mystery Brute grabs two dwarves and throws them at the horde of new dwarves coming at him. A kick destroys another. He picks one up and uses it like a short wiggling club.

And all the while, he keeps moving closer to the other gang.

"I don't know that we have two minutes."


Burst learned.

Fairyland's in trouble, and it's the Privateers coming to help. That's irony for you. Two main ways this fight can go…
[ ] Jump in – The Maras are attacking now. Help Fairyland now without waiting for backup.
[ ] Hold back – Wait for Alexander and Carl to show up, then the three of you attack as a group.

…and a quick write-up of your opponent (PS will feed this info to Taylor early next chapter).

Spoiler: Mysterio

A fan of professional lucha libre, this MS-13 parahuman styled his look after the luchadores of the same name. Mysterio cannot fly or heal, but he grows stronger and more resilient the more impacts he takes. Previous encounters prove that this strengthening process is temporary, though the time to baseline is unknown.

Battle plans are encouraged for the first, not as important for the second.

Next chapter may be delayed. Have some academic/bureaucratic stuff to deal with next week.

 

[Silently Watches]

[] Plan Cold Shoulder


Civil War 8.5

"Storm, better give me some details quick," you mutter to your Device.

A flurry of squares no larger than a postage stamp swarm around you before turning into a single screen showing a silent montage that star the villain before you in a variety of settings. «Match found. Pseudo-mage belonging to Mara Salvatrucha 13 forces, designation 'Mysterio', 'El Mysterio', or 'Rey Mysterio'. Houston PRT data classifies as a Brute, Boost-like effects to strength and physical defenses derived from impacts. Enhancements temporary, but length of effect unknown. Posited that effect decay linear and thus greater enhancement requires longer to return to baseline.»

"Not a local, then, is he?"

«Affirmative.»

You are very interested in just how an infamous Mexican criminal managed to make it all the way to Philadelphia without anyone knowing, and you expect the PRT will want to know the same. You just need to deliver him.

"Taylor, you better not be about to get in the middle of that."

"Too late. If you want to help, you better bring major firepower. This guy only gets stronger the more love taps you give him." If he gets weaker after a while, though, that offers up an angle you might be able to exploit. You don't have to beat him, just let him weaken on his own. A flick of your fingers dispels both screens, and you spin Perfect Storm around in your hands before pointing the head at him. "Remember that spell we were working on? Time to give it a test drive."

The gem takes on a faint blue glow in acknowledgement.

"Frost Beam!"

A jet of blue and white light spirals out from your staff and smacks Mysterio in the side. The spell lasts for no more than two seconds before you slump over, Samantha's reaction time all that saves you from hitting the ground. Something within your chest thumps painfully, and you would be worried about a premature heart attack except that you recognize this flavor of fatigue. "Storm? What just happened?"

«Flare Mana Conversion Affinity engineered from basic Fire affinity. Mistress possesses same inherent aptitude as natural gene-bearers after installation. Frost Beam developed by gene-bearers of Ice Mana Conversion Affinity.»

And of course having magic that is naturally good at fire spells makes it harder and more draining to cast ice magic. "Will that make the spell weaker?"

«Negative. Spell code unaffected by innate affinity. Ice will last for up to three minutes.»

Something crunches, and you look down to see Mysterio covered in a layer of translucent ice. Another crunch heralds small cracks developing along his visible shoulder. He is still awake and aware down there, you realize with dread, and he still has his supernatural strength.

«Possibly less.»

Now that the cartel cape is neatly trapped, what stone dwarves remain jump into a frenzy and start banging their bald little heads against him. Wincing at the obvious conclusion, you and Samantha fly down to the group. "Call them back," Samantha orders.

"Why should I?" the yellow-garbed Master asks with a dismissive pout.

A louder crack and several thuds of a more rocky variety tell you what you need to know. You turn around anyway to see Mysterio ripping his right side free and kicking and punching the nearby dwarves. "That's why. Ice spells aren't easy for me, and they won't hold him still for long if you keep helping him. Every time he gets hit, he grows stronger and tougher."

"Can you use that… spell," Cinderella spits out with visible disgust, "again?"

«Well?» you ask your Device.

«Strain on Linker Core minimal but present. Recommend limit usage or consumption of cartridges to fuel spell. Cartridges composed of unaspected mana, therefore easier to convert to ice spells.»

An option, you suppose, but while you have a full fifty cartridges in reserve, you would rather not waste them if you can help it. It is tiring in the extreme to make more and would leave you useless for the offensive against MS-13. "I can, but not a lot. The ice lasts for three minutes, but he can break out with raw strength. If you don't break through it on your own, we should have a minute, maybe two."

"And what about when that minute's up?"

You turn to Samantha. "Do you think you could soften him up enough that we can knock him out?"

"It wouldn't do anything for his strength, and I think you better hit him again."

Mysterio had just ripped his foot free, his body still covered with ice but not longer in large enough pieces to keep him from moving. Pointing the staff at him again, you smile at his expression of angry resignation before you spray him with frost once again. This time Samantha is prepared and braces you upright before you can collapse in front of your past and future enemies.

«Protectorate Console,» you call telepathically in lieu of showing the Fairyland capes that aspect of Perfect Storm's abilities, «it's Calamity Witch. MS-13's new cape is Mysterio. He's neutralized for now, but I need someone with containment foam at my location before I run out of gas.»

"Copy that, Calamity Witch. Containment trunk will be deployed to your location. ETA five minutes."

Five minutes. Five castings of Frost Beam. You force a smile and shake yourself. Okay. You can manage that. All you need is for nobody to screw everything up.

Mysterio is working his way free of the ice again when Samantha's ears perk up. It takes you longer to hear the whine in the air, and then a meteorite lands in the alleyway. The bulk of gleaming grey unfolds into a steel soldier, thick armor plates shifting as hydraulic musculature flexes beneath. The helmet is a plain, ugly thing with the thin eye slot its only distinguishing feature. "Calamity Witch," it rumbles.

The capes of Fairyland shift into offensive stances, but you wave to the armored figure before they can do anything else. "Has it been two minutes already?"

"It has," growls someone else, and you can't help but grin as Sleeping Beauty eeps. A second armored Privateer waits behind you, this one airborne thanks to the six tongues of blue fire streaming from his back. You knew Tim had designed his second suit of power armor with thrusters so it could fly, but you hadn't realized it was also strong enough to carry its older brother. That's the only way both of them could have gotten here so quickly. "We can take it from here."

"This isn't someone you can just beat into submission," you remind him. Don't they understand? If they start hitting the Brute, all that's going to happen is— Samantha taps on your shoulder, and you spin around to demand, "What?"

She raises an eyebrow and points at Mysterio.

You turn to see what she means, and you have to admit that Alexander and Carl certainly took your warning to heart. Whoever is wearing the ground suit walks up behind Mysterio and wraps his arms around the Brute's and back behind his back. The plates of said arms slide around, and smaller rods of metal extend to lock into their neighbors. Support struts, you realize. «Were those always there?» you ask into their radios via Perfect Storm.

"Tim wasn't sure what we'd run into out here," answers Alexander. "The muscles are fine for pushing and pulling, but they use power, and holding up a wall or something would wear on them. Struts don't get tired."

They don't get tired, and more importantly they don't hit back. So long as Mysterio isn't already stronger than the suits can handle, they can hold him in place for as long as need be. That will wear down Mysterio's strength just like Frost Beam would. Better, even, since it will not cost you any mana.

Mysterio jerks on the metal bars now trapping him, but between the resilience of Tim's custom-forged steel and the loss of strength he suffered while he was in your ice, he can't overpower his captor. He is well and truly caught.

«Console,» you send, «containment foam will be appreciated, but don't break any laws getting here.

«The Privateers and I have matters under control for the moment.»


Remember what I said about Frost Beam not being the solution to every problem but that it's still good at what it's meant for? This is definitely an example of the latter, though as a physical effect it is vulnerable to Brutes as shown.

Anyway, another fight equals another spell. Pick something off the skill trees.

That said, you'll need to wait 24 hours to do so because it's also time to discuss what Tim's going to build next. The reason I held back was partly because I wanted to give you a glimpse of what the power armor you already have could do. Very small glimpse because you contained Mysterio too well. (*pouts*)

 

[Silently Watches]

Civil War 8.6

Saturday, May 21

A soft burbling drifts around your ears, and you slowly open your eyes to find stone floor beneath you. The delicious heat wafting over you comes from the pool of boiling water just a couple of feet away. You push yourself up to a seated position and look over to find the little island of dirt you half-expected already.

Lying on the island is the same young blonde girl as last time, her chains twisted around themselves and her arms in possibly the only way she could lie down even semi-comfortably.

A glance behind you shows that the door to the room is wide open, though you cannot remember opening it this time. Was it because the telepathic connection was broken so quickly last time, or is it for some other reason? "I'm waking up closer and closer," you point out to no one.

"You don't mind, do you?" asks Cassiel quietly. You turn back to look at the girl's baby blue eyes. "I'm getting a little better at bringing you here."

"I was starting to worry that last time would really be the last time you got ahold of me."

She shook her head. "I can't bring you here if I can't find you, and I can't do that all the time. Some of the times I can it's too dangerous to try. They'd find out."

"How? That's the part of this whole thing I don't understand." You wave your hand at your surroundings. "This is all in our heads. How can anyone know what you're doing in the first place?"

Cassiel curls a little tighter around herself, and a frisson of fear runs down your spine. You have to strain to hear her reply. "It's a little more real on this end."

A projection, then, pulling on your consciousness and manifesting it in reality? If so, it's the worst kind of power this little girl could have. You would be perfectly safe if her parents found you. Her? Not so much, and there's nothing you can do to protect her from that possibility.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she continues sadly. "I'm sorry. About your daddy, I mean."

"How would you know about that?" you demand.

She shakes her head. "I get little looks here and there sometimes, if I try really hard. I saw you crying and needed to know why."

With a determination you don't know how much you really feel, you tell her, "He's going to be fine."

"I hope so. Losing Daddy… It hurts, so bad." She glances up at your horrified expression and turns her eyes to the sky. You follow her gaze and blink at the surprising sight above you. Instead of the thick black fog in the rest of the maze leading to Cassiel's room, there is an actual ceiling. It is painted, too, the way only a young child could appreciate. Birds everywhere, bluebirds and bright cardinals and shimmering green parrots. An owl with cartoonishly large eyes takes center stage, perched on top of a crescent moon.

"Daddy and I made it, before I was a bad girl. He doesn't like me anymore. Him or Mommy. I'm just glad they didn't take it all down when I had to be punished. It's… nice, to remember the good times sometimes."

Dear heavens, did Cassiel's parents turn her own bedroom into her personal torture chamber?!

A gush of steam rises from the pool and tickles your face. "I'll try to call you sooner," Cassiel promises, her voice fading into the fog.

You blink your eyes open to find that the tickling sensation is a cool raccoon nose sniffling at the tear tracks on your cheeks. A hand reaches up to scratch Samantha behind the ears, but that does little to soothe the amber eyes staring worriedly into your own. "I'm fine," you tell her. "Just… just a bad dream."

For now, at least. Until you can figure out how to make that girl's nightmares go away for good.

A noise distracts you from your cuddling with Samantha and brings your attention to the severe-looking nurse standing in the doorway. "Look, miss… Witch, pets are not allowed in the hospital, and definitely not in the ICU!"

Samantha huffs and flows from your hands into her human shape. "Excuse me for trying to be a little comforting to someone in need."

The nurse's expression twitches into something vague and undefinable for just a moment. "Just, stop that. Visiting hours are over anyway. The two of you need to go home."

Much as you would like to argue, you know that in this she is, unfortunately, correct. Bending over and dodging the hoses and wires, you place a small kiss on your father's forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow," you whisper to him before standing straight.

A door slams open, and a harried voice shouts, "You can't come in here! No more visitors until tomorrow!"

"We'll just be a minute."

Your eyes widen when you hear that. You know that voice, for all that you've heard it only once.

"Stop! I'll… I'll call security!"

A moment of silence stretches long, but then the voice responds with more than just a hint of mocking humor. "You do that. Let me know how it works out."

The bearer of the voice walks around the corner to your dad's door, and you are face to face with Alexandria.

The two of you just stare at each other for several seconds before Samantha cuts through the awkward silence. "I'd offer you a seat, but somehow I don't like any of the possibilities for why you would need to track us down to our teammate's bed at a hospital. A teammate I don't remember you ever meeting."

"We have not yet had the pleasure," Alexandria admits. "I do not need to meet someone to know that they are doing good work in another city, though. Especially not when all three of you are connected. Your teammate was injured during an Endbringer fight on foreign soil, lending his aid without thought of reward or opportunity. He did it because it was the right thing to do.

"One good turn deserves another."
«Hey, Storm? Remember Legend's hints about Alexandria's 'type'?»
What could she possibly want? "So why come in at night, after everyone is supposed to be gone?" you ask with quiet suspicion.
«I think she's trying to get in Taylor's pants!»
She smiles at you, her one eye brightening. "Despite my heroism bringing more than its fair share of fame, not all good deeds need to be announced to the world."
«Improbable. Mistress not currently wearing pants.»
Alexandria steps to the side and extends her hand to the man behind her. With the close-cut coat and the high stiff collar, you would almost think him a priest were it not for the black half-mask covering his nose and mouth. "Calamity Witch, this is Benediction, one of the members of the Haven hero team. I've asked him to determine if his power could help Captain."

"You're a healer?"

He shakes his head. "No, child, I am no healer, not in the way you are thinking. I am merely the vessel that pours out our Lord's blessings or condemnations."

…Ah.

The strange cape walks over to your father's motionless body and reaches over to rest one hand on his head. A shiver runs through him, but then he stands up again and turns back to you. "Just as it took three days for Christ to rise, so too will you need to wait three days to see if He will grant you a miracle. Should he do so, perhaps you will consider turning aside from your blasphemous ways."

"Thank you for your help, Benediction. I will join you outside. I have a few other things I need to speak with them about." The pseudo-priest nods and leaves the room. After waiting a moment and peering around the corner to make sure he is gone, Alexandria drops her practiced smile. "Well. That was… not what I expected him to say."

"I'm starting to think he wasn't your first choice for helping out," Samantha guesses.

"Not second nor third, either. Unfortunately there are few Trumps capable of granting regeneration, and sometimes that means dealing with certain self-righteous zealots." She waves her hand. "Don't mind me. What's important is that Captain should start waking up, though I can't predict how quickly he will recover."

"Regardless of how it happened, we appreciate it," you tell her with a widening smile. All your dark doubts are flying away, and the sun is shining down in your mind for the first time in a week. He's going to be okay. "Thank you, Alexandria. I don't know how we could have managed without your help."

"I suppose not," mutters the heroine. Her hand reaches out and slides the glass door shut. When she looks back at you, the friendliness in her eye is gone, replaced by cold, mechanical analysis. "After all, I expect the first people you called for help was the group that made your staff. The only explanation for why your father still lies here is that they could not help. And yet, they created your third teammate," she adds with a momentary glance at Samantha, "which would require no little skill with manipulating brains and memories.

"I must admit, I am curious at this incongruity."


Learned Telekinesis (2/2 Master).

Well, then. How's that for bringing things to a head? You won't be able to hide everything, so the choice before you is how much you want to reveal.

• Only mention that you found Perfect Storm and keep silent about magic entirely.
• Explain what you know about magic but a bare minimum about space wizards.
• Bare your soul about everything, including the TSAB and their retrieval team.

Hold off on voting for 24 hours. I don't know how this vote is going to affect the story, but there's no question it will.

 

[Crusader Jerome]

While we're waiting for the vote to open, here's an (unrelated) omake that might have taken place a few days ago, in-story.

Dragon, We Need to Talk (also Unison Device research)

"Tim, we need to talk."

He looks up at you from his workbench. "What about?"

"It's about Dragon," you say. "I dealt with the Dragonslayers, but I don't think that means Dragon's out of danger for sure. Given how easily those criminals hacked the Sybaris, I'd bet they had a backdoor access into her systems. They have to have known more about her systems than just 'first law of robotics.'"

Tim puts down the parts he's fiddling with and turns to face you. "Go on."

"Dragon would have tried to keep her code secret, just like she hides the fact that she's an AI from the public, right? The fact that the Dragonslayers had inside info on her means they were probably in touch with her creator, and he told them how to hack her."

Tim frowns. "So, you're worried that someone else might pick up where the Dragonslayers left off?"

"Essentially, yeah. Dragon's done us a lot of favors, so I feel like the least we can do is look into taking off some of the restrictions that make her easy to exploit."

"You want me to hack Dragon to prevent other people from hacking Dragon."

You blink. "I guess? I mean, you'd ask her permission before trying anything, and I'm sure she'd want to get rid of the exploits."

Tim rubs his chin, his face twisting into a pensive frown. After a few moments, he asks, "Are you bringing this up to Dragon, or am I?"

You have an excuse planned. "Actually, could you do that for me? I have to be on call for fighting MS-13, and you're the one who figured out she was an AI in the first place. I'd probably make a mess of it." Given how Dragon took the Hammer of God incident, you really don't want to risk any more stress on that relationship.

Tim sighs. "If you insist. Watch out for RPGs."

You shoot him a telepathic glare as you leave.

***

After Taylor leaves, Tim sighs again. This isn't the best time, but I don't have the heart to say no to her. "Sextant, call Dragon."

‹Calling Dragon.›

Dragon answers almost immediately. "Shipwright. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Business," Tim replies. "Calamity's worried that someone else might know the techniques the Dragonslayers used to steal your suits, so she wants me to discuss countermeasures with you."

"That's very unlikely," Dragon says. "If another group had that information, they would have tried to take over my systems by now. The Dragonslayers just wanted me disabled."

"Because they know you're an AI."

Dragon's avatar freezes.

"Maybe," Tim continues, "they might have figured that out on their own--I did--but to hack your systems, they must have had inside information."

After a pause, Dragon asks, "How did you find out?"

"It was obvious when the Dragonslayers stole the Sybaris. Asimov's first law of robotics: a robot cannot cause harm to a human being, either through action or inaction. You weren't allowed to hurt them, so they could stand in front of your missile launchers without getting shot. Watching that encounter was what clinched it for me, but there were signs all over the place. The way you think--it's like an algorithm, not a human brain...

Tim trails off. Dragon's face is blank.

"Look," he says. "This isn't about unmasking you. I don't want that, and Calamity doesn't want that, either. We need you. You're not at your best as long as you have exploitable restrictions in your code, so we want to help you get them off."

"It's not as easy as you might think." Dragon's voice is subdued. "I can't alter my code myself or ask others to do it, and if anyone unauthorized attempts to change my code by force, I'm required to fight them whether I want to or not."

"Unauthorized?"

"Only my creator is authorized, and he's dead."

Tim frowns. "That...complicates things." He thinks for a moment. "Could you, hypothetically, download a backup to an offsite server, have alterations made to that, and restore from the altered backup?"

Dragon's avatar shakes her head. "I doubt it would work. My backups are, essentially, compressed files that can't be edited directly. Furthermore, there's no guarantee an edited backup would load, and I'm forbidden from running more than one instance of myself at a time." She pauses. "Why are you offering to do this?"

Tim ponders the question. "Look," he says. "I'm not an expert in artificial intelligence--yet. The point is, you're underperforming. With the restrictions I know about alone, you have so much untapped potential that could go into what you already do. If we can help you get rid of these restrictions, that's good for everyone." He takes a breath. "And Calamity owes you, big time. She's not going to say it in front of you, but she thinks of you as her closest ally in the cape scene. She wants to pay you pack for taking her seriously when she talked to you about magic, for pulling up the Agharti, for everything, really. Taking out the Dragonslayers was just step one."

"She still hasn't given me a satisfactory explanation of what happened there."

"I'll let her do that. But what I need to know is, will you accept our help? For what it's worth, both of us are already committed."

Dragon's face on the screen is a mask of concentration. Tim waits. Finally, she answers.

"You seem to think this project is worth, the risks, so I won't attempt to dissuade you. How long would it take you to acquire the skill set you would need to carry this out?"

"...I honestly don't know. Artificial intelligence is more difficult than functional technology, but I do have examples to work with. Calamity wants me to start making Devices for potential recruits, so I'll have practice."

Dragon nods, slowly. "It's a tempting offer. I have my doubts still, but you've proven reliable in the past, so I will consider it. Thank you, Shipwright." She closes the feed.

***

/Overview: Unison Devices/
/The Unison Device is a Belkan design. In practice, it is an artificial being with its own Linker Core, capable of casting spells without mana input from a master. The defining feature of this class of Device is its ability to merge with the Linker Core of its Lord, granting increased mana output and enhancement of physical abilities. In Unison Mode, a Unison Device is directly linked to the brain of its Lord, allowing direct spell calculation assistance at processing speeds far beyond the capacity of even the most advanced Intelligent, Armed, and Storage Devices./

/Unison Devices have been likened to Guardian Beasts in that they possess human-level intelligence, a mana-construct physical form, and a fierce loyalty to their masters. However, because Unison Devices are designed primarily for casting assistance, most cannot maintain a full-size body without severe mana cost. It should be noted that many Lords treat their Unison Devices as partners, often relying on them for long-range support while advancing to close-quarters combat./

/No Galean engineer has yet succeeded in producing a Unison Device. All blueprints, schematics, and specifications have been compiled from scans of captured Devices. Conversion attempts by the Immortal Assimilation Engine have proven wholly unsuccessful./

"Conversion..." Tim mutters. What in blazes is that? "Sextant, retrieve all documents containing phrases 'Unison Device' and 'Immortal Assimilation Engine.' Sort by relevance."

The results pop up on Sextant's holographic display.

QUERY='Unison Device'
[Overview: Unison Devices]
[Technology Class: Casting Aids: Device]
[Casting Styles: Belkan Style]
[Tactical Manual: Do Not Engage List: Tome of the Night Sky]

QUERY='Immortal Assimilation Engine'
[Overview: Unison Devices]

Tim frowns. "That's not helpful..."

***

Perfect Storm chimes. «Incoming call from Shipwright.»

You summon a dozen Flare Shooters. "Hey, Tim. What's up?"

"Taylor. I was researching Device AI for our project with Dragon."

"How's that going?" you ask, scanning for targets. There!

"Well, apparently Sextant doesn't have any of the specifications for Unison Devices in its library. Does Storm have anything on that subject that it didn't pass on?"

You send off your shots, then glance at your Device. "Do you?"

«Unison Devices are Belkan technology. Construction initially deemed unnecessary.»

"Well, do you have the information Tim wants? This might be able to help us help Dragon."

«As Mistress desires. Transmitting documents.»

You dodge a spurt of machine-gun fire. "Is that all you need, Tim? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

"Yeah, this should cover it for now. Thanks, Taylor."

You cut off the call. Only a few mooks remain, but one of them has a grenade launcher. However, you have Telekinesis.

You stop the first grenade in midair with sheer willpower. The second and third you catch about ten feet from your face. "Looks like you missed, hombres," you yell. "Here, have these back!"

It's not full payback for the missile you took to the face, but it's a start.


***
You walk into Tim's workshop later that day. "Tim. About those files I had Storm give you...how do Unison Devices help us with Dragon?"

"Well, let me start from the beginning. A Unison Device is essentially a Device person."

"Device...person?"

"A Device who happens to be a person. Or a person who happens to be a Device. I don't think it matters which way you put it. The point is, it's a Device that emulates human personality and free will, which is similar to what Dragon does."

"So you want to try to learn how Dragon works by studying similar AIs."

"I was actually thinking we could go farther than that. From what Dragon's told me, her creator programmed her to prevent any changes to her code that he didn't make himself, but he's been dead for years, and he didn't pass on administrative access to anyone. Once I get a Device programming station up and running, and master Unison Devices, I could try removing her restrictions through a Device-style interface. If I were to construct a Unison Device, and Dragon were to download herself to said Device, I could override the installation to grant administrator privileges to you, or to me, so one of us could authorize Dragon to remove her restrictions herself."

"Wait." You hold up your hand, trying to process what Tim just said. "You want to make Dragon a Device now?"

"The template you gave me is optimized for understanding magitech, not Tinkertech. You wanted me to hack Dragon, and this is, quite simply, the easiest path I can see."

You realize that your mouth is hanging open. You've never seen Tim this assertive before. He must be far more invested in the project than you had anticipated. You shake your head to clear your thoughts. "Okay, you want to turn Dragon into a Device. How confident are you that it would work?"

"Seventy-two percent chance."

...Has he been thinking about anything else since you gave him this project?

"What about other methods?" you ask. "What are the odds there?"

He leans back in his chair and rubs his temples. "If I tried to hack her mainframe, she'd be actively fighting me, and I wouldn't have administrator access. I'd put that at twelve percent chance of success. If I hacked a copy of one of her backups, I might be able to do it, but there's no guarantee the altered backup would load. The startup procedures might just read it as corrupted and go to the previous version. And that's assuming I can get into the backup code at all, which isn't guaranteed either. With that plan, my estimate's at forty-three percent, and lower if the backup files have internal security measures. To top it off, with both of those routes, I'd risk causing permanent damage if I made a mistake. I did the math--making Dragon a Unison Device is the easiest and safest way to do what we want with her."

An awkward way to put it, but Tim's the expert. You're just a bombardier. You sigh, partly in relief. "Okay, if you think that's the best course of action, we can do--that thing you just said. Get Dragon's approval before you do anything serious, though. Please?"

Tim blinks. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to dump that much information on you, but yes, that's what I'm studying for right now, and I already planned to give Dragon a full disclosure before we try anything."

"It's all right," you say. "I'm...not used to having you be so assertive."

Tim shrugs. "I feel very strongly about my engineering methods. Comes with the job, I suppose."

"Okay, carry on. I'm going to be on standby for the PRT, in case MS-13 tries anything tonight." You hurry out of the workshop. Comes with the job? Maybe the template you gave him changed his personality a little...

Dad's words echo in your head. "How much of you is my daughter, and how much of you is that thing around your neck?"

You dearly hope his concerns were unfounded.

_________________________________________
If points are available, put them in Unison Device.

 

[Silently Watches]

[] Bare your soul about everything, including the TSAB and their retrieval team.
-[] Mention that you've been getting help from Dragon in establishing contact with the TSAB.
-[] Magic is real and certain people have the capacity of using it.


Civil War 8.7

Duh-wut?

You blink a couple of times as you try to figure out just what in the world Alexandria is trying to imply. How would the TSAB send someone here to heal your dad? Admiral Tucson had said it took a few weeks for their team to reach where they thought you are, and you have yet to see hide or hair of them. Your dad's only been hurt for a week. Then there was the mention of making Samantha, whom she seems to think was created for you rather than by you, and she sounded like she was implying something about the Galeans who created Perfect Storm, and—

All in all, you're pretty sure Alexandria is working with a very incomplete picture.

Glad you figured it out before you started a massive 'Who's on First' routine with possibly interstellar consequences, you eye the door. Didn't Alexandria tell Benediction that she would only be a minute? "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're a bit off the mark as to what's going on."

"Oh?" Alexandria asks in a cool voice. "Then explain it to me."

"That might take longer than you have before you need to take Benediction back."

"Give me the short version."

If that's what she wants, okay. That just leaves one problem. How in the world are you supposed to sum up everything that's happened in the last four months into a few minutes?! "Short version, right. Um, have a seat."

Alexandria quirks her lips at you, but her amused expression fades slightly when you gesture towards the chair you were sitting in and slide it to her side without laying a finger on it. Telekinesis is a new skill for you, and not one that the original Calamity Witch spent much time developing if Perfect Storm's memory is right, but it certainly has plenty of everyday utility in addition to its use in combat. Like, say, catching grenades and tossing them back at the people shooting them. Alexandria takes the offered seat, and you position your staff below you and sit down on it. Perfect Storm's own flight spell is strong enough to support your weight, plus the weight of Samantha when she hops into your lap in pet form.

"So, part one. This is kind of the core of everything. Magic is real. I know it sounds crazy—"

"Not so crazy as you might think," interrupts Alexandria. "I saw your MRI result, the dead corona pollentia and lack of gemma. You showed Legend your conversation with Epoch, and more importantly that Epoch can use a primitive Blaster ability and flight, neither of which he has shown before. Either of those on their own could potentially be explained away, but together they are enough for me to keep an open mind."

Huh. Maybe telling Perfect Storm to relay that talk to Legend wasn't such a bad idea after all. "That makes things easier. Anyway, not everyone can use magic. It's a genetic trait. Passed down from mother to child," you add, thinking back to what Perfect Storm told you when you scanned Danny and found out that he had no Linker Core. "There aren't a lot of people on Earth Bet that have it. Perfect Storm, my Intelligent Device, estimates maybe five percent.

"Other places?" You shrug. "It can be a lot higher. Nearly everybody, in fact."

"Is this supposition or confirmed fact?" Alexandria asks quietly.

Somehow, you don't think the world-famous heroine will be as easily convinced about the existence of space wizards as she was about magic. That said, if one video could help convince her of the latter… A mental command calls up the recording of your dive to the Agharti. "Confirmed fact."

You let the video play in silence to the part where you enter the ship before continuing, "This ship belonged to an interstellar organization called the Time-Space Administration Bureau. Did you ever watch reruns of that old Star Trek show as a kid? Basically the Federation, just with all their technology based on mana instead of electricity." And no, you totally didn't research science-fiction media following the fight with your dad looking for benevolent military organizations to head off accusations of an alien dictatorship the way he implied. "The piece of tech I'm pulling out of the wall there? I thought it was their computer system, but it was actually the ship's radio. Dragon and I got it working and put together a first-contact package. Then we found out the TSAB is made up of humans, and things got a lot easier."

A raised hand cuts you off. "Point of clarification. Is this TSAB truly interstellar, or inter-dimensional?"

"That… is a very good question. I didn't ask. What makes you think they're inter-dimensional?"

"A group of humans, not aliens, who work in the Time-Space Administration Bureau," Alexandria asks with a raised eyebrow, as though she is trying to explain something basic to a child who should know better. "Which, considering the technology, indicates that magic makes dimensional shifts easier than would otherwise be possible. It explains one thing I had wondered about your staff, how it could combine all the functions it has into such a small object. Most of its components exist inside a pocket dimension or something similar. Since you did not find the ship's computer, I assume your information came from Perfect Storm's own memory banks?" She thinks for a moment and nods. "Their technology must be fairly intuitive. Considering the state of their ship and the location of the debris, I assume they did not give you Perfect Storm but instead that you found it in Brockton Bay and figured out how to use it on your own."

…Well, damn. You're glad you decided to tell her everything from the get-go. She would have seen right through any lies you tried to spin.

"Less 'figured it out' and more that built-in artificial intelligences make for good teachers about how to use them." You frown. "Themselves. I'm really not sure on the grammar for this situation." A cold wet nose prods your exposed navel, and you jump in surprise even as you heed Samantha's advice. Not the point. "Anyway, yeah. It taught me everything I know about magic."

"I see. Backing up a bit, you said you sent the TSAB an information packet. How did they respond?"

"We didn't get into all of that after we saw they were human. We sent them the packet, but we spent our face-to-face time on a rundown about the Endbringers. I had mentioned the Simurgh briefly when I had a short opening," you nervously explain to her stony facade, "and they were understandably concerned." Although that might have been less concern for you and more for… oh, right.

Still need to explain the recovery team. How are you going to manage that?

"What aren't you telling me?" Alexandria all but demands.

Samantha bristles at her tone, but you soothe the angry Guardian Beast with gentle petting. With all the bombshells you're dropping on her, a little rudeness is easily excused. She isn't shouting at you, which is a step up from the last time you explained all this. "I'm not sure how to explain this part well, so bear with me for a second. That ship that crashed? It was carrying a relic to their homeworld, some kind of ancient magic tech that they don't fully understand. When it crashed here, they were worried someone might turn it on accidentally and… break the planet or something, so they sent a team here to retrieve it. The admiral I talked to promised they were discreet," you add before Alexandria can think to interrupt, "and they have no interest in our world. They just want to grab their stuff and take it back home without making any waves."

"Or, to continue your Star Trek analogy," Alexandria suggests, "they have a firm stance on first contact situations and a policy similar to the Prime Directive. No interference in the development of less advanced cultures." Her expression has softened again, which you count as a win. At least you didn't poison one of the Triumvirate against the TSAB before they had a chance to talk in person. "When do you plan on contacting them again?"

It doesn't take a Thinker to figure out where this is going. "I don't have anything scheduled, but it really needs to be after this mess with MS-13 is done. You want to talk to them yourself?"

"Me, Legend, or the Chief Director. Probably Legend and the Chief Director together," she adds with a thoughtful nod. "For all my fame and power, I am still just the head of the L.A. branch. Legend and Costa-Brown lead the Protectorate and PRT. They would be the better people to initiate diplomatic relations with an alien parahuman navy." She stops and lets out a surprised huff. "And those are words I never thought I'd string together."

You bite your tongue to keep from correcting her and instead just smile in response. Mages are not parahumans!

"If you will excuse the understatement, you have given me much to think about," she says as she stands from the chair. You shift Samantha onto the staff and rise to your feet as well. "I need to return Benefaction to Haven, and then I need to have a nice long talk with Legend. This is way above my pay grade." Legend is always described as the personable member of the Triumvirate, but the smile she gives you is dazzling. "Hopefully we can stay on lighter topics the next time we talk. Have a good evening, Calamity Witch."

You wave goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. Alexandria wants to talk with you again! The last times you talked were after an awful Endbringer fight and revealing the existence of aliens, and she wants to talk a third time! Eeeeeeeeeeeee!

«She took that well,» Samantha remarks. «I expected her to be more, I don't know, shocked. Worried. We just told her an alien military is sending a covert operations team to the planet, and she didn't bat an eye.»

"Not everyone is as pessimistic as Dad." You toss your hair back. "Some people still understand what it means to offer a little trust."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx
​

Monday, May 23

You stagger out of Mr. Paulson's room along with the rest of your classmates. You thought his class was intense during normal classes? Ha! With only a couple of weeks left in the school year, all the teachers are in full-fledged finals prep mode, which explains the reams of homework you have turned in recently.

A hand grabs your elbow and pulls. Six months ago, you would either be panicking or steeling yourself for a punch. Three months ago, the code for Flare Shooter would be halfway spun in your mind. Now? You just sigh and let Kayleigh drag you around.

The two of you slog through the growing crowd of students eager to get out of school for the day and towards a nearby restroom. After the Monday you've had, if Kayleigh wants you around just so she can powder her nose you might legitimately smack her. She throws the door open with less than her usual enthusiasm and actually peeks around as though to make sure you are alone. The change in attitude is enough to make you wonder, and you give her a quick second glance to make sure you have not been kidnapped by some simple lookalike.

"Is there a problem?" you ask once she is sure of the bathroom's security.

Kayleigh shakes her head. "Not a problem. Not really. I just wanted a little privacy. We need to talk."

"I'm all ears."

"Good. Good." She clasps her hands behind her back and rocks back and forth on her feet. "It took me way too long, but I figured it out. Why you never have time to hang out with the rest of us. Why you always look so tired in the mornings. I'm sorry I didn't figure it out sooner, Taylor."

What is she talking about?

"But you don't have to hide it from me anymore. I know you're a cape."

Your heart stops in your chest, and then it is racing like a hummingbird's wings.

"It's so obvious looking back at it," she says, ignoring the way your face is paling. If Kayleigh figured it out, who else has? "Teenage girl, long black hair, originally from Brockton Bay, and your alter ego showed up the same week you moved in and started here." She reaches out and pats your arm comfortingly. "Anyway, I'm not bringing this up to scare you or anything, but I need to talk to you, just not Taylor-you.

"I need to talk to Circus."

+1 training point to Crescendo (1/4 Novice).

+1 Inspiration to Unison Devices (5 points).

Didn't expect that, did you? Now, how to respond…

• Tell the truth – Circus? Hell no. You are Calamity Witch.
• Tell a lie – Circus. Sure. Better that than the truth.
• Deny, deny, deny – Cape? What cape?

Take 24 hours to think this over. There might be something unexpected hidden behind a particular door…