Magical Girl Escalation Taylor (Worm/Nanoha)

[Silently Watches]

[] Tell the truth – Circus? Hell no. You are Calamity Witch.


Civil War 8.8

…Circus?

Your previous worry about your identity being figured out… again… disappears as you stare at her in befuddlement. "Circus. Really? All the capes you could pick from, and you think I'm Circus?"

"Well, yeah. All the pieces fit, and… you aren't Circus, are you?" she asks with a mild frown.

You shake your head wordlessly.

"Oh."

A long moment passes before she speaks again, and when she does, it is the rapid babble of someone who can't figure out whether to push forward or backpedal. "No, no, no, that's the only explanation that makes sense, don't you see? At first I thought maybe you had other friends that I didn't know about, but that didn't fit at all"—Hey!—"because you never tried to introduce them to me or Marcia or anyone. Then I thought about how you didn't talk to Charlie even after I told you he likes you and how you're always tired in the mornings and maybe what was really going on was that you had a secret lover or a sugar daddy or something and that was why you didn't tell anyone, but that didn't sound like you either. Then I thought, wait a second what if she's a cape and that's why she can never go out and have fun with the rest of us and suddenly everything clicked and—" Kayleigh blinks. "Hold up. You aren't Circus, but you never said you weren't a cape at all. Are you really a cape?"

There are two ways you can answer this, you realize, each with their own risks. On the one hand, you could lie. It would even be easy. Say you aren't a cape, and as long as Kayleigh never finds out the truth – which she wouldn't be looking for – everything gets wrapped up nice and neat. It just means you build this friendship from here on out on top of a lie. And if she did find out? Yikes.

On the other hand, you could tell her the truth. A bigger risk to you personally, but you do like Kayleigh. It's nice having a friend again.

Licking your lips, you ask a deceptively simple question. "Can you keep a secret?" She nods, and you lift one hand and conjure a single Flare Shooter bullet.

"That looks familiar… Wait. No." She stares at you with wide eyes and a smile that grows even wider, and she whispers excitedly, "You're Calamity Witch?"

"Yep," you reply, crushing the little fireball.

"Oh my gosh that's so cooooool!" She hops in place and lets out a tiny squeal. "That's why you were at the party! Like, not Taylor-you, but Calamity Witch-you! I thought you came in with Chevalier and flew ahead of them or something, but you were there the whole time!"

"It wasn't just me," you tell her, turning away from her sparkly eyes. Hero worship from your friend isn't what you wanted or was looking for. "Cailleach was there, too. She helped out a lot."

"There were two capes at the party?!" Kayleigh squeaks. "Ooh, ooh, do you know who she is?"

You try and fail to hold back the laugh that bubbles up. "It isn't like we all have each others' numbers and hang out after work. I'm a hero. Cailleach's a villain. We aren't exactly friends."

"Oh. Yeah, I get that. But if you could meet up and hang out," she continues anyway, "would you want to?"

"Sure. Why not." You do owe her a thank you for helping out at the party, and for checking if you were okay after to head-butted a rocket and yourself out of the sky. It would be more than a little crass to thank her while putting cuffs on her, though, which is what you'd do under most circumstances should the two of you meet. Perhaps if you met her during a fight with MS-13, you could do just that without it getting too awkward? Something to keep in mind.

"Two capes, both going to school here. Yeah, you two have to get together," says your friend with a nod.

"You work on that," you tell her with a roll of your eyes. "Anyway, I don't need to tell you not to spread this all around, right? Secret identities are pretty big deals, and if anyone figured it out…"

You don't want to go into detail about what could happen if the truth leaked out. You and Samantha are Brutes, but in your case it's only when you have your Barrier Jacket out. Your dad does not have even that much protection.

"Don't worry, Taylor. I know how important secret identities are. I won't tell anyone unless they really, really, really need to know." She draws an 'X' with her finger on her chest. "Cross my heart."

A resigned sigh, and you clap your hands around Kayleigh's wrist. "Glad we had this talk. Now let's get out of here before we're the last people in school."

The hallways are already empty, so you feel safe enough to ask a question that is niggling at you. "Why did you want to talk to Circus, anyway? It's a little odd for people to want to chat with villains, at least not unless you're involved in crime and villainy yourself. You wouldn't do that, now would you?" you tease with a smile.

"Ack, my fiendish secret has been found out," she giggles. "No, it's not that. I heard a rumor that with MS-13 so out of control, all the villains were going to have this big sit-down about what to do about it. I wanted to know if that was true. Plus, I could ask if it was true that heroes and villains were working together to take them down." The last bit she throws in with a pointed glance at you.

"If heroes were working with villains, it would only be a temporary thing. They are kind of obligated to arrest the gangs, you know. Besides, I'm not sure how well the villains would be able to put aside their differences in order to work together in the first place." Even the Truce in place seemed all-too-delicate sometimes.

"Villains are people, too," Kayleigh says. "Even if they don't know each other, even if they don't like each other, I think they could still work together when they needed to. Maybe it's just that they need a little bit more of a push to get over themselves."

A little more idealistic than you believe, but that doesn't mean she's completely off-base. Purity, after all, was a villain for years before she tried to turn her life around for her daughter's sake, and look at her now! A Protectorate-hero-in-training, someone who was already making waves in the New Orleans PHO threads in a good way. All it took was for someone to believe in her.

"Who knows," you murmur. "In a crazy world like ours, I suppose anything is possible."


Civil War 8.9 should be up in three weeks. Not because I plan for there to be a delay (plan for being the operative phrase ) but because there are a couple of interludes waiting in the wings. Only then will you understand why I posted the video of Rumplestiltskin laughing.

 

[Silently Watches]

Because I clearly like writing Alexandria interludes way too much.


Civil War 8.a

"Bullshit."

Rebecca sighed at David's crude retort but restrained herself from rolling her eye. "We have already had two extra-dimensional visitors. We knew this was a possibility."

"Other Entities, yes, that was a possibility," Michael said with a tight grimace. "An invasion of alien humans on magic spaceships? I'm pretty sure we never discussed what we would do if that happened."

She pushed the two thick file folders towards her friends, LOOKING GLASS stamped prominently on the front covers. "No, we did not discuss that particular possibility. We do, however, have plans that can be adapted to the situation at hand."

Sitting back in her chair, she let them refamiliarize themselves with the files in front of them. She had already read it when it was first written, but even still she had flipped through the pages to make sure Contessa had not added anything in the intervening years.

Cauldron had produced many contingency plans over its existence to make sure they would not be caught completely off their guard should something unexpected happen. Operation Looking Glass was one of them. In essence, it was what they needed to do should, on one of their cross-dimensional recruitment drives, they encounter another group that knew about the source of powers, either through the aid of a Thinker on par with Contessa or through finding another outgrowth of Eden's body and harvesting it. Subplans included what to do if they did or did not possess the ability to cross dimensions on their own, if they had or didn't have a powerful precog on their roster, if they had an insanely capable Trump…

Basically a how-to guide of what to do no matter what elements of Cauldron they had their own versions of, as well as different approaches should they be friendly or hostile.

Michael finally looked up. "How are we supposed to use this in dealing with this TSAB group?"

"Section 9, subsection 2.2. Tentative peaceful contact, high-level Trump and interdimensional capabilities." In other words, a group with their own Eidolon and Doormaker. "As with all the Section 9 plans, identify their goal and either help them obtain it in exchange for assistance or obtain it first and bargain with them for its exchange. Thanks to Calamity Witch, we know what they want."

"And what's that?" David grumped. Not that his worsening mood was any surprise. The sections involving an Eidolon-figure were built around David still having full access to his powers, which had been reasonable when Looking Glass was written but was no longer the case. He, understandably, was both irritated at the reminder of his loss and worried by the fact that he could no longer carry his part of the plan.

Rebecca pushed herself to her feet and started pacing around the table, in the process checking to make sure the doors were all locked. The conference room in Legend's office was soundproofed and hardened against any form of electronic surveillance, but even the best security was useless if someone could open the doors a crack and listen in. Satisfied that they were secure, she turned back to her compatriots. "Something stood out to me during my chat with Calamity Witch. Her contact in this organization was an admiral, and yet she said that the crashed ship was carrying a 'relic', a piece of 'ancient magic tech'. Why would a military organization be interested in an archeologic discovery?"

Both men figured it out at the same time and looked at each other. "This wasn't just some random find," Michael said slowly. He turned to look at her, his face paling. "It's a weapon."

"That is my interpretation as well. Then there was her reference to their concern that it might break the planet. The word choice was her own creation rather than a direct quote, but her worry was obvious. Not just any weapon, then, but a superweapon of extreme destructive potential. I doubt they explained its capacities to her, merely told her of its existence and gave her enough information to make her agree to help them retrieve it."

David frowned. "Somehow, I don't get the feeling you plan on helping them out."

"No, I don't. I plan on finding it first. The TSAB wants to take it back to their home world and do whatever to it, but if its interface is as intuitive as their current technology, we should be able to figure out how to use it ourselves." She smiled, the expression sharp and cold and deadly. "It might be just what we need to kill the Endbringers."

That was the reason they needed to find the relic first. It did not matter the exact form of the weapon, be it an antimatter explosive or a gigantic laser or something else. It was guaranteed to be effective, and there was no way in hell the TSAB would lend it to the Protectorate or teach them how to use it. Militaries did not let strangers play with their nukes.

"What happens when we can't turn it on? Or if, just maybe, it's too powerful for us to use without doing the Endbringers' job for them in the process?"

"Then we hold it as a bargaining chip and convince them to kill the Endbringers if they want us to turn it over. Not the optimal plan, but better than letting them run away with it." And they would play ball. There were only two reasons to bring a foreign superweapon back home: either to keep anyone else in general from having it, or to use it on someone else in particular. In the first case, they would take the option that prevented escalation. In the second, they would not want to split their forces on two fronts when diplomacy would work just as well. That being said, Rebecca thought with a frown, if they were in a losing fight they might not be able to send anybody else to deal with the Endbringers, but in that scenario she predicted that the TSAB would show them how to use the weapon on their own. As far as the TSAB was concerned, the best place to test a new weapon was on some planet they had no concerns about.

"As neat and tidy as this theory is," David said, cutting through her musings, "there's one thing I can't put my finger on. Why would Calamity Witch even know any of this?"

"Because the TSAB told her in order to gain her cooperation."

"Yes, Becca, I get that, but why? The Army doesn't tell random civilians the details of their covert ops. So why tell her in advance that they were sending a team?"

Not knowing where a conversation was going was a feeling Rebecca rarely experienced, and she did not like it now any more than every other time it happened. "I would assume it is because she is their only local contact."

"Which would make sense if she had information that would help them find the relic. She doesn't, but they still broke operational security."

"You're clearly going somewhere with this, so why not jump to the explanation," suggested Michael.

"Fine. When we first started discussing Calamity Witch, we thought she used Tinkertech and that this was the normal outcome for someone carrying that particular piece of equipment. Now that aliens are involved, we didn't stop to reconsider that assumption. What if she isn't? What if, instead of being an average magician or whatever, her power is extraordinary? What if she's actually the magic version of one of us?

"The TSAB doesn't need her help finding the relic or blending in, not if they have as much experience working on unsuspecting planets as you said she was implying. She has nothing to offer them in terms of finding this relic that they can't get somewhere else."

"So why did they tell her everything, then?" echoed Rebecca.

David spread his hands wide. "Simple. Recruitment. She's on par with the best of their best. Too powerful to leave alone on some backwoods planet like Earth. Once they find the relic, they're going to take it back home with them, and her alongside it."

Rebecca went still. That was not something that had occurred to her, and she did not like it in the slightest. Calamity Witch was Earth's key to exploring magical abilities, and she had the raw power that would be needed when the next generation of parahumans was ready to take charge. Alexandria would still be around, but Michael was not getting any younger and Eidolon already needed to be replaced. Calamity Witch was the absolute best person to take on Eidolon's role. If the TSAB whisked her away to their home world…
No! Not my mini-me!
"We can't let that happen," she said. Michael glanced at David with wriggling eyebrows, and she shot him her most withering glare. "Not considering all the good she can and will do if she stays on Earth. We need to find this relic, make contact with the TSAB, deal with the Endbringers, and convince them to leave with the relic and only the relic.

"If the Endbringers can be taken care of, everything else is manageable. We cannot let this opportunity pass us by."


Race for Immortal Assimilation Engine, start?

And now I'm imagining Taylor sitting in a corner wrapped up with a bow on top and asking "Don't I get a say in this?".

 

[Silently Watches]

Not sure how much I like the way this turned out, but hopefully I've developed the character enough that her line of reasoning makes sense (at least as much as it can!).


Civil War 8.k

Kayleigh shut the door behind her and hopped onto the bed with a fwump. "You know my friend Taylor I was telling you about?" she asked the ceiling. "Turns out she isn't Circus."

"Yeah, I know." She turned her head to watch her best friend finish brushing her brown hair and pull it into a short ponytail. "Circus is a guy. Good at crossdressing, creepily so, but still a guy."

"Well, excuse me for checking on it myself," she replied with a pout.

Laura's movements slowed, and she looked back at Kayleigh through the mirror. "Kayleigh, what do you mean, 'checking on it yourself'? I'm not going to hear about you getting arrested for sneaking into people's houses or something, am I?"

"It was only once! And I was ten! How was I supposed to know that family had already moved in?" Laura rolled her eyes and returned to her preparations. "But no, no sneaking around or anything. I just asked her."

"Oh. My. God." It was hard to hear what Laura was saying with her hands slapped over her face, but the tone was unmistakeable. "I love you like a sister, Kayleigh, but seriously you are the stupidest person I have ever had the misfortune to meet sometimes. You don't just go up to people and ask them if they're capes!"

"But it made sense! She never hangs out with the rest of us, just like you. She's always tired in the mornings, just like you. She can even pull that whole 'get out my way, lousy peons' vibe!" Laura shook her head even as she pulled off her clothes and contorted herself to get into her blue bodysuit. "Besides," Kayleigh added with a haughty sniff, "I was right, too. Not Circus, but she is Calamity Witch."

"Kayleigh, what the ever loving FUCK is wrong with you?!" shrieked the older girl, whirling around and getting slapped in the face by her heavy hood. "You don't go around digging into cape's real identities, and you sure as hell don't go blabbing them to everyone!"

"I'm not blabbing this to everyone. I'm only telling you because you need to know." Like really, really, really needed to know. Laura and no one else, cross her heart. That was her promise to her friends.

"No, I don't need to know. I don't want to know." Laura stomped over and hauled Kayleigh to a sitting position. "Kayleigh, Cape Rules protect you only as far as you can push back. You're not a cape. You can't push back. That means you keep your head down and your mouth shut, not… whatever this is!"

Sometimes, Kayleigh thought, her bestie was so blind she couldn't see the trees for the forest. "Laura, Taylor's the girl you were dancing with at Greg's party."

"And that means what to me?" Laura asked, hands digging into her hair and pulling free her long dyed-blue bangs.

"It means that she's perfect for you. Before I knew she was a cape, okay, maybe, maybe not. But she is a cape. She gets you! Being Calamity Witch makes it even better than when I thought she was Circus." She bounced on the mattress a little. "Just think about it. Two teenage capes, on opposite sides of the law but still running into each other. You helped out the Protectorate; she helped out Jotunn and Solaire. Plus, plus, not only are you a villain and hero combo, but you even have this whole fire and ice thing going on with your powers! Cailleach and Calamity Witch, star-crossed lovers like a modern Romeo and Juliet! The story practically writes itself!" Kayleigh finished with an excited clap of her hands.

Laura stared at her for a long minute, and Kayleigh almost started to wonder if she might have made a mistake somewhere. "Two little details you sound like you forgot," Laura said in an icy voice. "First, you still broke the Rules, and for something as stupid and pointless as your matchmaking games."

Kayleigh sighed. Rules, schmools. Didn't Laura understand her chance with her true love was on the line?!

Probably.

Okay, it might not be love yet, but crazy wild monkey sex was still a good start! All her romance novels said so!

"Second, and even more important, I don't like girls!"

"Are you sure? You looked like you wanted to rip her pants off at the party," she muttered. Or maybe it was the other way around. The cell phone video somebody or another had recorded of the dancing had not focused on Taylor and Laura, but a bunch of girls dancing together was always going to attract guys' attention. Most of the other girls were just having a little fun, but those two? Once Kayleigh saw the video, she knew what she had to do. Taylor's latest revelation just made it even better.

"I was totally hammered!" Laura snapped. "I can't be held responsible for what drunk-me does!"

"If drunk-you is okay with grinding up on another girl, doesn't that mean that part of you likes girls?"

"What part of hammered do you not understand? I probably thought she was a guy or something!"

That was uncalled for, but it clicked with something else Kayleigh knew and shined a whole new light on this. Her eyes narrowed. "Huh."

Laura stopped yelling and looked at her with a guarded expression. She looked like she was now wondering if that stick she stepped on was actually a landmine about to blow up in her face. "…Do I want to know what you just thought of?"

"I just noticed something, and it explains a lot. Doug, and Pat; hell, all your boyfriends. They were all kind of wimpy-looking, you remember that?"

Her friend sniffed. "It's called being metro. Nothing wrong with it."

"No, no, not at all. But Taylor wasn't dressed like a guy, but you still latched on to her. Is it possible that what you actually like is… is…" Oh, shoot, what was that word? Not girly, not masculine, but somewhere in between. She snapped her fingers a few times before the lightbulb went off. "That's it, the androgynous look."

"You have got to be joking."

"No, really! Your boyfriends looked like they spent more time getting ready in the mornings than I do. Taylor doesn't exactly have a curvy figure. You liked both of them." She held out her hands. "Tell me how that doesn't make sense."

"Kayleigh, just… just go." Laura put on her domino mask and pulled up her hood, and it was Cailleach standing in front of her. "Go home. I have Mexican dogs to put down. I don't have the time to listen to your crazy ideas." Opening the window, Laura slipped through onto the balcony before sticking her head back inside. "And don't you dare go spreading her identity around! I need to figure out how I'm going to fix the mess you've already made. The last thing I need is you making my job even harder!"

The window slammed down, but Kayleigh did not look upset. In fact, she looked up at the ceiling again with a small smile on her face. Step one of Operation Too Steamy for TV, A.K.A. 'Get Laura and Taylor together, version 2', had gone better than she could have ever expected. She might not even have to meddle in the rest of it for everything to work out, though she definitely would if only to make sure it all went off without a hitch.

How telling was it, she wondered, that Laura had not really denied that androgynous was her type?


+1 Inspiration to Unison Devices (4 points).

Kayleigh is an interesting character. She isn't super-intelligent, and she clearly doesn't have the world's best decision-making skills, but my goodness is she clever when and how she wants to be.

This was not in my original plans when you moved to Philly, just so you know. After the party chapters, there was a joke somewhere about shipping Tayler and Bluehair, plus the suspicion of Kayleigh being Cailleach (which was never a thing and I'm not sure how that idea got started), and this popped out.

Spoiler: A random thought

Kayleigh and Legend, sitting in a tree,
S-H-I-P-P-I-N-G.
First comes fighting, then comes kissing,
Then the forum blows up and everybody gets banned by the mods.

 

[Silently Watches]

Bit of a short one this week, but it needed to end where it did.


Civil War 8.9

Wednesday, May 25
You hurry down the hall of the hospital, your fingers clenching and relaxing in turn. Three days. That was how long Benediction said it would take for your dad to recover. That was on Sunday. It's now Wednesday.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. One, two, three.

Lacey told you she and Kurt would see him during the afternoon now that he had been moved around to another room in the neuro-ICU under his real name – more for any visitors who had noticed you and Samantha visiting than for the hospital staff, who can't say anything because of the stack of NDAs that one nurse told you about when you were getting your MRI – but now that school's out you want to see him. You need to look at him with your own eyes and see for yourself that he's okay.

The doors slide open, and you have to hold yourself back from running. Because of the sixteen-foot range of his powers, they had to put him in a corner room where there was a little more space, so he would be—

Lacey looks up from where she is seated in a chair outside your dad's room and jumps to her feet. "Taylor, wait. We need to talk—"

Fear grabs your heart in its icy grip. "What's wrong? Isn't he awake?"

"Well, yes, he's awake, but that's not the issue."

"I don't care! If he's awake, I'm going to see him."

Lacey tries to say something, but you ignore her attempt to stop you and open the door to his room. His bed has been forced to the back of the room, but there he sits on top of it, clad in a hospital gown but awake and alive like you haven't seen him since he ran off to fight Behemoth. He wears a dazed sort of expression, but that's only to be expected. He did just wake up to find that he had lost a week and a half of time.

"Dad!"

He turns to you, his mouth set in a faint frown, and your smile dims a little. You are happy that he is awake again, but for some reason he does not appear quite so pleased. He better not still be angry about you talking to the TSAB, because if his first words after waking up are to scold you again you're going to put him back in a coma yourself.

The two of you stare at each other for almost a solid minute before you repeat, "Dad?"

"I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong room."

What? You don't have anything to say in response to that and instead just stare dumbly at him. "Dad, what are you talking about?" you finally ask.

"I'm talking about the fact that you have me mixed up with someone else," he tells you in a flat voice. No anger, no cruel humor, just dry facts that are the farthest thing from the truth. "I don't know who your father is, but I'm not him. Now, could you please leave? I'm waiting for my family to arrive."

"Dad, it's me. Taylor."

His eye starts twitching, and an angry flush spreads across his face. "Look, kid, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm not in the mood to be screwed around with. I think I'd recognize my own daughter, and you aren't her. Now get out before I have the nurses call security to throw you out."

One staggering step back, then another. You whirl around and all but run out of the room, confusion and sorrow and pain streaming down your face.

He doesn't know who you are. He doesn't know who you are!

"Taylor!" Feet pound behind you, and thick arms grab you and pull you into a tight embrace. You latch onto Lacey and sob into her shoulder while she rubs small circles on your back. "I'm so sorry, honey. I tried to tell you not to go in. You didn't need to hear that."

The tears are a long time stopping, but finally you force yourself to meet her eyes. "What's wrong with him?"

"Whatever that cape did almost worked. Danny's awake, and he understands what's going on, but…"

"But?"

"He swears up and down that the last date he remembers is June first," she whispers. "June of 2005."

2005. Six years ago. You were getting close to your tenth birthday. You and Emma were inseparable just as Zoe and your mom had been at that age. Your mom had still been alive, even. Is that why he doesn't recognize you, because he saw you weren't old enough to be his wife but too old to be your nine-year-old self? "Has anyone told him?"

"Kurt and I both tried talking to him, but he refuses to believe us. He thinks we're playing an elaborate practical joke on him. We'll keep working on it, but until then…"

"Until then, he won't believe that I'm me, and he won't recognize me." You wipe your face with your hand and look again at her still-downcast expression. "What else is wrong?"

"There's still the issue of what to do with him. He's weak, and between the need for rehab and the memory issue, you can't take him back to the apartment. About the only good thing in this whole fiasco is that his powers aren't working so hot either. Kurt's talking to the social worker now, but it sounds like he needs to spend at least a little time in some midlevel care facility." She rubs your shoulder. "Until he gets better, you and Samantha are more than welcome to stay with us."

"I don't… We… Can I think about it?"

Lacey frowns when you pull yourself from her grasp, but she does not say anything about it. She just nods. "Of course. We'll keep the living room light on when we go to bed if you aren't back by then."

You give her hands a gentle squeeze, thanks for being so understanding, and then you turn around and walk out of the ICU.

You can't handle this right now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx​

«…and that's about the long and short of it.»

Samantha takes a bit to absorb the information you have just given to her before she replies. «So what are you going to do?»

«I don't think I have much of a choice,» you think with a sigh. «Lacey and Kurt have legal custody of me according to Dad's will, not that I really want to kick up a fuss about that. Even with Kurt griping about how the Protectorate and we have worked alongside the gangs to fight MS-13, living with them hasn't been too bad. I just wish…»

«I know. I miss him, too.» You force back the tears that want to spring up anew. «Try not to worry about this right now. Fly around a little to clear your head. All of these decisions we can discuss tomorrow.»

Good advice from your Guardian Beast. Closing the telepathic signal, you drift over the business sector and watch as stores start locking their doors and flipping off their lights. Even in Philadelphia, people have to sleep sometime. This isn't New York City, after all.

With darkness beginning to fill the street and your eyes adjusting to the lessened light, you can just barely make out something moving on the distant rooftops. Vista? Some other allied cape? Or possibly the Maras trying to cause trouble on the worst day they could have possibly chosen to pull this shit. A frown takes over your expression, and you cautiously make your way closer.

The rooftops are empty, and you come to a halt and shake your head. Maybe it was just your imagination, but your gut is still grumbling in suspicion. Something is not right here, but you can't put your finger on it.

Something flickers in the corner of your eye, and you conjure Strong Shield just in time to block the cluster of energy blasts coming at you. Three figures charge out of a stairwell, clearly itching for a fight.


Um. I think I'll just show myself out. This chapter was not a happy one to write.

Who's up for battle plans? This enemy you're going to go against without any hints.
[ ] Aerial barrage
[ ] Close the distance for melee
[ ] Focus on defense
[ ] Run away

Because Taylor is not in a good headspace right now, there is a better than zero chance she (I) will deviate somewhat from any battle plans you vote for. Not terribly, but some of the fine details may be changed.

 

[Silently Watches]

[] Aerial barrage
-[] Drop a Wide Area Search and a Bursting Flare Shooter aimed at the ground in front of them to gather data and provide cover while getting some height on them... a hundred or two hundred meters should do.
-[] Call Sam, ask her to teleport here and bring up the Recursion Field.
-[] Once she's here and you get information about these guys abilities and numbers, attack. Sam will cover you.
--[] Light them up with as many Flare Shooters as you can.
--[] If there is more of them or they seems actually dangerous, don't hesitate to use Temporal Sludge and Solar Wrath.


Civil War 8.10

Everything was going so well before this last week. You were mostly adjusted to life in Philadelphia. You had a couple of friends through Kayleigh, not to mention Vista and Dragon. You had stood triumphant over the Dragonslayers. Then it all went to hell. Your dad is in critical condition, Mexican cartels are trying to take over, you're getting interrogated by Alexandria, you have to live in an apartment that isn't your home with people who – regardless of how nice they are – aren't your family, and your dad wakes up only not to recognize you. And now these idiots are trying to shoot you out of the sky?

They picked the wrong day to pull this shit.

«Sam!»

You rise in the sky, the deep red of Wide Area Search already forming at the end of your staff, when it happens. A wave of not-color sweeps towards and through you, and the eruption of orange light above you occurs right before the wave hits. You blink at the still, lifeless neighborhood that remains, confusion now warring with anger. This… this looks just like Recursion Field. How in the world are you in a dimensional barrier?

The Blaster of the group does not give you the time to ponder, and when the blasts again break upon your shield you can't help but wonder. Orange spheres, duller and redder in color than your own. Could it be another Shooter spell? The very idea is ludicrous, but between this and Recursion Field—

A brief whir is all the warning you get before another blast swings around from behind and slams into your left shoulder. A grunt from your right heralds the descent of your Guardian Beast just in time to tank the hit. "Who are these guys?" Samantha asks.

You do not know, and you don't think they'll tell you if you ask. Wide Area Search drops, and you follow it with a set of Flare Shooters. These bullets are special, though, their code just a little different than you're used to. While they fall, you rocket upwards until you are a couple of hundred feet up. This should keep you out of range of their attacks while you make a better plan. Your mask adjusts for the night's darkness just in time for your Shooters to hit the rooftop on which your attackers stand and explode, each tennis-ball-sized bullet suddenly turning into a two-foot circle of fire and fury. Those explosions should put them off their game for a few seconds.

The three visible men jump into the air to escape the attack, and you groan. Of course they're capable of flight. Because this fight wasn't enough fun yet.

A very familiar triangle of light appears below one of the men, and almost before you can react he is suddenly in your face. His thick sword crashes against your shield in a spray of sparks. "Cdyht tufh!" he barks.

«Belkans?»

A flick of your wrist sends a quartet of Flare Shooters at him, but you don't stick around to see the result. One Blitz Action later and you are a solid hundred feet to the side, well out of his range. Between the bullets, the flight, and the casting triangle, there is only one possible conclusion: you have been attacked by mages. Your revelation is punctuated by frantically dodging a spray of Shooters you didn't see coming from below until it was almost too late.

«BELKANS!»

Perfect Storm's scream of hate echoes in your mind while you continue your game of keep away with the sword-wielding mage. You only have a few abilities from the Extinction Knight template you had your Device install into your Linker Core, and that is enough to know you do not want to fight someone like that hand-to-hand. You flood the air between you with Flare Shooters, all of them set to explode with crippling force if disturbed. Hopefully the impromptu mine field will keep him off you for a second. «Storm, what's wrong?»

«Belkans. Savages, murderers, monsters. Kill them, Mistress! Kill them before they kill you!»

The Belkan knight flings himself higher in the sky to fly around your mines and winds up putting himself square in the path of Samantha's haymaker. He clears a swath through the mine field with his body, and you don't expect he's going to come back from that quickly. "You okay?" she asks immediately.

"Okay so far. You?"

"They're good," is Samantha's reluctant reply. That worries you. Your Guardian Beast is strong, but as the Dragonslayers proved, she is far from invincible. Then you have to throw up two shields to block yet another pincer attack. Is this what it's like for people fighting you? If so, it is extremely frustrating.

Wide Area Search finishes its deployment with a ping, and you blink in shock. Has it only been twenty seconds? The screen pops into view just as the two remaining melee mages rush at you, one carrying an axe and the other a spear. Samantha takes up a defensive position in front of you, intent on blocking anything coming at you. You, meanwhile, move a shield to your back and focus on the screen.

There has to be some way of turning the tables on your attackers.

Two in front of you, which you already knew. The surprise is that there are not two but three people below you all clustered together. The mage Samantha took out, the shooter, but who is the third? Maybe the leader of this bunch. The Blaster and the leader together make too good a target. "Sam, watch my back for a sec. I need to take care of their gunman."

You spin around, dismissing the shield to open up your line of fire. A purplish-black bullet flies at the stairwell where the three figures are hiding, but even before Temporal Sludge has fully deployed you pop a few cartridges. Fire swirls into a miniature sun, and a focusing ring forms a foot farther down. "Solar Wrath!"

The bright orange laser slices through the building, the four stories collapsing on top of themselves. You hold back a wince. That was not quite what you had in mind when you fired the spell. You were hoping it would only roast the roof, but it looks like you're a little more upset than you thought you were. Once this fight is over, you'll need to check on them and make sure they were not buried in the rubble.

Blue light shines down on you, and you conjure a shield with not a second to spare. A wide beam of blue slams into the shield, cracks already forming, and you and Samantha both dodge to the sides when the shield breaks. Your left arm screams in pain as it is scoured with a sandblaster. Now out of the way, you take a quick glance to find that your jacket's sleeve has been shredded below the elbow and your forearm is red as if sunburned. You glare at the purple-haired mage above you. He wants to play with bombardment magic? Okay. You'll play.

His overlarge pistol unfolds into its axe form, and he flings himself at Samantha.

You move to pursue him when you hear a sharp ting and jerk to a halt. Around your left wrist is a ring of the same reddish-orange magic as the bullets, and despite your efforts you cannot pull yourself free. The Blaster must have survived after all. A second handcuff appears around your right hand, and now you are getting worried. This smells like a set up.

Orange sparks streak past you from all around, not just around you and the fighters but even along the ground. The neglected screen for Wide Area Search fizzles closed. You follow the sparks down and watch them merge into an ever-growing ball of mana that is already as big as your living room. It looks like the one spell in your arsenal you have never tried out, the one that is so powerful it would probably wipe out an entire neighborhood.

It looks like Ragnarök.

"Oh shit," you mutter as you desperately try to pull yourself free from your bindings. This is going to hurt.

The mage's shout is drowned out by the roar of the mana beam coming at you like a runaway train. The attack hits, and you scream. Your entire body is on fire, knives slashing through every inch of you followed by the raw impact of that much magic. The shackles shatter, and you tumble blindly through the air.

All bad things must eventually end, and so too does the spell. You fall several dozen feet before you finally catch yourself with a hover. Even that much is a strain. You feel like you just went ten rounds with Hookwolf, and your Barrier Jacket doesn't look much better. Your jacket is gone while there is barely enough left of your shirt to preserve your modesty. Your skirt is little more than a belt. One knee-high boot has been reduced to a sneaker, and the other is missing entirely. Perfect Storm, thankfully, is still mostly intact, but the tines of its head are glowing as though from heat and a spiderweb of hairline cracks crisscross its jewel.

Samantha screams, but unlike yours hers is one of complete and utter rage. You catch a glimpse of a black haze surrounding her before she's off, her Battle Frenzy turning her from overprotective ally to unstoppable berserker. Okay Taylor, new plan, you decide. Your Barrier Jacket can't take much more of this abuse, so you need to get off the field and into the shadows. If you can sneak around and throw up Wide Area Search again, you hit the unknown bombardment mage below from the shadows and then focus your efforts on the axe-wielder, leaving the knights to Samantha.

"Durchstechen." You whirl around at the feminine voice and find the swordsman from before not even a foot in front of you. An intense tearing pain takes root in your chest, and you glance with a grimace down to see a shaft of metal coming out of you.

Oh.

"E's… E's sorry," he mutters, his expression just as shocked as yours probably is, though you're sure yours is a good deal more pained. You can't help but wonder why Perfect Storm decided now was the best time to start translating again. He backs up, pulling three feet of reddened steel with him. Without his weapon supporting you, you tilt backwards and fall.

Your chest doesn't hurt so much now, which is a relief, though you're pretty sure the blackness rolling in is a bad thing all on its own…

​

This chapter was originally going to feature Taylor dying, with plan for the rebirth mechanic to kick in and start the next arc. That plan has now been changed because I like not getting my head bitten off by all and sundry.

 

[Lisafication]

everyone take a step back please Thread locked for staff review.

 

[Lisafication]

greetings Hello yes it's me again.

Oh wow. The TSAB went lethal. The TSAB went lethal. What the fuck.
Jail and his Numbers were minutes away from wiping Mid-Childa's capital city from the map and the TSAB still didn't go lethal against them.
The Book Of Darkness was trying to eat an entire world and they still were ttrying to deal with the situation non-lethally.
Prescia was moment away from triggering a catastrophic Dimensional Quake and they didn't set their weaponry to lethal.

And yet Taylor shows up and the lethal bolts start raining immediately. Because Being Taylor Is Suffering.
In retrospect this should have been obvious, what with the way you, for all intent and purpose, killed Danny. Tying up lose ends, huh ?

Throwing a bullshit No-Win scenario at us, blatantly misportraying the TSAB and then expecting your little interlude--whose "explanation" was utterly bullshit beside--to make everything better...

And you're surprised the player base didn't take it well ?! What the fucking FUCK ?!!

Click to shrink...

This is just an entirely unnecessary level of vitriol. While tempers getting heated is understandable, I'd prefer if you didn't graduate from the level of 'criticism' to 'attacks' in the future, hm? Take 25 points and 3 days out under Rule 3.

Silently Watches, you are a terrible person and you should feel bad!

Click to shrink...

Same as above, except this post offers literally nothing of value. Why did you even post this? 25 points under Rules 3 & 4.

Lastly, @Always Late , your conduct in this debate has been a mixture of passive-aggression and outright aggression at times, even after the QM conceded your points. Normally I'd warn you and leave it at that, but you've had warnings for similar conduct previously, so that's being upgraded to 25 points and 3 days out under Rules 3 & 4.

as for everyone else Please keep in mind that there are people on the other end of the faceless posts that you're responding to. There's no need for the sort of aggression and bile that was thrown around in here.

This thread will remain locked until @Silently Watches requests it opened, as I don't think there's anything else of value to be had in the recent discussion.

 

[Lisafication]

official staff communication Thread unlocked.

 

[Silently Watches]

Civil War 8.11

Thursday, May 26

"Uhhhhhhhhh."

Much like trying to wake again after staying up for three days, the haze that surrounds your mind takes substantially more effort to pull yourself out of than it should. Cracking one eye open, you stare blearily at the ceiling before you realize what is so strange about having a solid sheet of metal above your head.

You don't recognize it, you can't think of any reason why it should be there, and most importantly, the last clear memory you have is being stabbed with a sword.

That thought cuts through the last of your stupor, and you sit up to discover three interesting facts. First, you do not have a hole in your chest, nor any evidence that such was ever the case. That's good, a good start to the day. Second, you are wearing your normal civilian clothes. Third, and not so good?

Perfect Storm is no longer hanging around your neck.

«Taylor. You're awake.»

Turning around, you find a raccoon crawling into your lap with a sigh. A sense of relief washes over you. You might have been beaten up and locked away in a cage, but your Guardian Beast is here with you. That is a good start to any escape plan. "Hey, Sam. You okay?"

«Well, we aren't dead, so things aren't as bad as they could be. Just don't expect me to be much help in a fight right now. Those Belkan guys pack a wallop, and I don't like getting shot with their version of Solar Wrath. Hurt more than I thought it would.»

The door slides open before you can even start to think of how to escape, and two people walk in. The first is a man with tousled hair and a five o'clock shadow, dressed in a rumpled military uniform. Nothing about him would be out of the ordinary were all his hair not purple. The second is a younger woman with red hair; unlike her counterpart, she clearly took time to make sure she looked professional.

You dislike both of them on sight.

The man gives you a casual wave and starts talking, though what he is saying you haven't a clue. You wait until he is done for long enough that his grin starts to fade before you say, "I don't know who the hell you are or what you want, but when we get out of here, and we will, we're going to make your lives a living hell."

Now the man's smile is gone completely, and he turns to look at his partner, who looks unhappy as well but also… confused? Why in the world would they be confused? You're the one who was ambushed and kidnapped. They have a brief conversation filled with incomprehensible speech as well as a displeased tone on the woman's part before the man conjures up a holographic screen and says something to the face on the other end of the line. That done, he leans against the wall and slides down it to sit on the floor across the room from you. The woman glares at him but does not say anything about it. Unhappily resigned is probably the best way to describe her expression.

«I recognize him now,» Samantha says out of the blue. «The clothes are so different it threw me for a moment. This is the axe-guy who was fighting us. The one who shot at us with that blue bombardment spell.»

«If he was trying to kill us, why is he sitting there without a care in the world?» you wonder.

«No idea.»

The door finally opens to reveal a man with the same face as the person on the screen, and he dangles an ocean-blue jewel from a silver chain. Your heart leaps in your chest before suspicion supplants your excitement. Why show you Perfect Storm? What do they plan to do to your Device?

Apparently, the man's plan is to take it from his subordinate and toss it to you.

Your fingers grip your Device tight as you try to figure out what his plan is. He's a mage. He knows what you're capable of working together with Perfect Storm, and that you are all but powerless without it. Why in the world would he willingly give it back to you? «Storm, are you all right? They didn't hurt you, did they?»

«All systems functional, Mistress. Binding to prevent deployment of Barrier Jacket and transformation to staff applied. No other tampering. Twenty minutes necessary to degrade binding.»

The man grins at you again and asks, "Can you understand me now?"

So that's why they gave back Perfect Storm. They can't get whatever they want, probably information, if you can't understand their questions and they can't understand your answers. In lieu of giving him what he wants, you demand, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"What do we want? That's an easy question with a complicated answer. Depends on how much you know already." He scratched his chin. "Who am I is easier. I'm Arton Erga, Enforcer for the TSAB. This is Teana Lanster, also an Enforcer."

"You're from the TSAB?" Somehow, you doubt that. Their behavior doesn't match up at all with what Admiral Tucson told you about them.

His gaze turns shrewd. "So you already know about the TSAB, huh? That narrows the possibilities down considerably. I'm starting to think we got off on the worst foot possible."

"And whose fault is that when you ambushed me, shot me, and stabbed me in the chest?" you spit out.

"Oh, definitely ours. We scuttled this one up good, 'specially if you are who I think you are." He shrugs, and you can't help but frown. An admission of guilt is not what you expected, though his blasé attitude does not make you any less unhappy about it. "Not much we can do about awful first impressions now, I'm afraid. You know my name, so what's yours?"

"Why should I answer your questions when you refuse to answer mine?"

"I answered one of them, if you think back, and I already said the other one is tricky. Tell me your name, and I'll give you your answer. I promise you that."

You are highly tempted to tell him just where he can shove his promise, but you bite your tongue at the last second. If they're lying about who they are, your name will mean nothing to them. If they are telling the truth… Well, you really don't know what you're going to do in that situation. "Taylor."

"Taylor. Found the Agharti and dialed up Enforcer Command Taylor?" You give him a sharp nod, and he sighs. "Was afraid you were gonna say that. Well, Taylor, I'm sorry we had to meet this way, and that, you know, we shot you outta the sky. Bad case of mistaken identity. Thought you were somebody else who we really couldn't go easy on."

"What did this other person do to deserve being ambushed and murdered in cold blood?" you snap.

Lanster is the one who answers you. "I don't know how much you know about what the Agharti was carrying, but the reason it was traveling through this section of the Dimensional Sea is that it was carrying a dangerous piece of ancient magical technology back to Midchilda. A Lost Logia."

You cross your arms. "I know. Admiral Tucson explained all that."

"Oh, you talked to the boss-man already. Good on you," Erga says.

"This particular Lost Logia," Lanster continues as though neither of you had interrupted her, "is called the Assimilation Engine." Your mind screeches to a halt at those two words. Did you just hear what you think you heard? "What it does that makes it so dangerous is that it forcibly converts any mage it comes in contact with into one of four types and programs them to be completely loyal to the world it came from. We've been searching this world and those nearby for you and the Lost Logia, and when we arrived on your world we tracked your mana use to where you were flying." After a moment, she shakes her head. "It was my fault. Your Barrier Jacket looks just like the one the bombardment-types wear, and when I saw you I assumed that anyone who looked like that had to be one of them. The chances that someone else would have that exact Barrier Jacket is tiny, but clearly not impossible. It doesn't help that you have skill with shooting magics and a Fire Mana Conversion Affinity. I'm sorry."

You open and close your mouth, unsure of exactly what to say. On the one hand, you really weren't expecting them to apologize, no matter how lackadaisical Erga's was. On the other, they still attacked you out of the blue without even trying to talk. No matter that their assumptions weren't completely wrong. While your mind wrestles with that dilemma, you hear your voice say, "It's called the Calamity Witch template, not bombardment-type. And the name of the Device is Immortal Assimilation Engine."

The two Enforcers slowly turn their heads to stare at you. "I'm going to regret asking this," says Erga, "but how do you know that?"

You look down at Samantha, who in turn has raised an eyebrow at you. You suppose that's only fair; it's your big mouth that threw this wrench into the works. A moment to think yields no worthwhile alternative. They already have enough information to work it out, so you might as well admit it. Slipping Perfect Storm's chain over your head, you raise the jewel. "Meet Perfect Storm, my Intelligent Device. Also known as Immortal Assimilation Engine."

"A Class-1 Lost Logia, and you're using it like a regular Device. Heh. Heh heh ha ha ha."

While her partner laughs the laugh of those drifting into insanity, Lanster puts her hand on her forehead. "Wonderful. Now I know how Admiral Harlaown felt at the end of the Final Book of Darkness Incident. This cannot be happening."

"On the plus side," Erga says once he gets his laughter under control, "this mission just got ten times easier. About twenty times more awkward, but easier all the same."

"Once you're done yucking it up, I'd like an explanation of why my having that template gives you the right to shoot me without provocation," you interrupt in an icy voice. After all, the end result is the same whether they knew you were the Taylor they were looking for or not. They still shot you, tried to kill you, all because of how you were dressed? And these are supposed to be the good guys?

Erga's humor vanishes, and Lanster glowers at you. "Do you know what happened the last time the Immortal Assimilation Engine activated?" You shake your head slowly. "It killed more than five hundred people, and the only reason it stopped was because it ran out of targets on the ships it was on to attack and convert. The ship I was on lost a third of our crew trying to reseal it. Official projections are that, activated and left on even a low-magic world like yours, given a month it would have converted five hundred thousand. Probably more. Each and every one of them transformed from human beings with their own hopes and dreams into brainwashed soldiers whose only goal is to conquer the Dimensional Sea in the name of a dead world most people have never even heard of."

"Belkan lies," buzzes Perfect Storm, the sound like a swarm of bees fluttering around your neck. "Galea could not fall. Attempt to subvert Mistress. Not trustworthy."

"Look, Perfect Storm, Immortal Assimilation Engine, whichever you want to be called," Erga says, and for the first time in this entire conversation there is no joking undertone. "It's not easy to hear that your world is dead. I know. I've been there myself. Worse for you, I'm sure; I at least knew growing up that Eltria was dying. But it ain't lies, sad as I am to say. Galea fell at the end of the Warring Ages, along with a bunch of other worlds when Belka made their final blitz. That was a thousand years ago now. There's nobody left. I'm sorry."

«Lies,» your Device whispers, voice tinged with desperation. You wrap your hand around it and give it the most comforting squeeze you can.

While you are trying to reassure Perfect Storm, Samantha lifts her head to stare at the Enforcers. «What happens to us now?»

"Good question. You mighta been adjusted by Immortal Assimilation Engine, but you still got your minds. You're not a danger to your world at large." He strokes his chin. "Don't really have a reason to keep you in the brig, I don't think. Can't punish somebody for what they might do."

"Maybe if you had kept that in mind before you shot me, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Despite your words, your voice does not have that much bite. Are you still angry? Of course. These people tried to kill you, even if it was not strictly you they were trying to kill. All the same, you are also more than a little confused by how forthcoming and apologetic they are for their actions.

Lanster sighed. "You have little reason to believe me, but I ask that you do. I was the Enforcer who finally shut down Immortal Assimilation Engine last time. I saw all its forces. The people who are converted – the other people who were converted before you came along," she amends, "they weren't people anymore. They had no individuality, no independent thought. They were nothing more than automata controlled by the Lost Logia that needed to be stopped by any means necessary before they could do any more damage. Much as it hurt to consider them as such, it was the only way to keep the rest of the crew safe."

The cold numbers she laid out earlier and her descriptions now combine make the hair on the back of your neck rise. Five hundred thousand brainwashed soldiers out inflicting destruction and death. That sounds like the Simurgh's attack on London, back when people were just starting to get a handle on how dangerous her Scream was.

They had treated you like a Ziz-bomb. Inherently dangerous, incapable of being negotiated with, and dead set on a course of destruction. They immediately moved to put you down, and much as you dislike being on the receiving end of that, part of you wonders how different their actions were from firing a lethal Solar Wrath at the escaped members of the Empire 88.

"Did telling yourself that make it easier to do what 'needed to be done'?" you ask.

"In the heat of the moment? Maybe a little." The smile she gives you is brittle and bitter. "When we returned home and I had a mental breakdown over killing who knows how many people, or when I had nightmares for the next month? Not really."

You stare at the young woman in shock and shame for a long moment before Erga clears his throat. "And on that note, let's get you home. But first." He taps the face of his digital watch. "Release binding seal, captured Intelligent Device 1."

"Seal release."

Ribbons of green light covered with script appear wrapped around Perfect Storm. The next instant, they shatter like glass. "Just like that?" you can't help but ask.

"Just like that." Rocking his torso back and forth, he hops to his feet. "Come on, I want Sambar to give the both of you a final check-up before you go. He healed up the hole in your chest Eos gave you, but he didn't have the mana after that to completely heal your familiar. We figured we'd let her rest first before we did anything else. Some familiars recover quick when they get a chance to sleep; others don't. He'll be rested up now and can finish the job without any problems."

You follow Erga down the hall and stare out the windows at the forest surrounding what you now realize must be their starship. It is morning out there, and while it is always possible that you are on a different part of this planet than Philadelphia is and that it is still night back home, you don't think your luck is that good. The TSAB did patch up the hole they put in your chest, and that had to have taken time. You've undoubtedly missed school for the morning, and in the week before finals, too. Still, all things considered, not the biggest issue you have at the moment.

"Where are we?" you finally ask.

"Don't rightly know the name of it. Don't think it has one since it's uninhabited. We came here expecting to find just your world, and instead there are fifteen of them all packed in together. You could probably see them all in one day without completely wearing yourself out. Don't find this many habitable worlds clustered together in one section of the Dimensional Sea that often."

Dimensional Sea, multiple worlds. Alexandria was right; they really are interdimensional travelers, not interstellar ones. So this must be a cousin to Earth Aleph and Earth Bet, then. Earth… Earth…

Okay, if you're going to go exploring and naming places, you should probably brush up on your Hebrew alphabet first.

A flick of Erga's hand causes two grey business card things to appear in midair, and he tosses the holograms back to you. "What are these?" you ask, peering at the nonsense characters typed on them.

"Coordinates for a dimensional transfer. First one is where we found you on your world. The other is here on this world in case you decide to swing by." He stops in the middle of the hall and turns around to face you, and you halt as well. "I meant what I said back there. Lanster, too. We made a huge mistake with you, and the Admiral's gonna have our hides for it, I bet. If we could go back and change what happened, we would. But we can't, so the best we can do is undo what we can.

"Anyway, not the point I'm trying to make. You've got a foothold in the wider Dimensional Sea now, Taylor. If you don't want anything more to do with us, that's your choice. You want to learn about it, though?" He spreads one arm wide, indicating the whole ship. "Come find us, and we'll tell you what you want to know. Door's open."


Bleghblub.

Not my favorite chapter; felt like I was trying to cover too many bases at once. Probably because it was written in the shadow of the brouhaha that followed 8.10.

We missed Tim's build vote earlier, didn't we? Let's correct that. Remember that he currently has 3 build slots to fill up. Inventory is on the first post. Take 24 hours to think things over.

And while you're discussing that, do you like planning out Tim's build schedule for the week? Do you think it's a waste of time? Is it just a means to an end and you'd prefer me to take over all the nitty gritty? Lemme know.

 

[Silently Watches]

I hope all my fellow Americans had a pleasant Thanksgiving, and that everyone in other countries had a pleasant… normal Thursday, I guess?


Civil War 8.12

Your time in the TSAB's custody did, in fact, cause you to miss out on most of your morning classes, and the lecture you received from Lacey for vanishing overnight without telling anyone took up the time you could have spent in the rest of third period. You made it back in time for lunch and the couple of classes you have in the afternoon, but in a stroke of luck your look of exhaustion was misinterpreted as you being slightly ill instead, so the day overall wasn't too bad.

It seems the world was saving up all the trouble it wanted to pile onto your shoulders for this evening.

"Say that again, please."

"Chevalier sent word to Winter Hill yesterday that we, the Protectorate, were open to working together to drive MS-13 out of the city for good. We received confirmation today that they and Fairyland will meet us tonight. I'd like you to come to the meeting."

That is what you thought Miss Militia said. Giving up any pretense of studying, you turn your full attention to the screen floating in midair. "How does that even work? Do they just have each others' emails or something?"

The patriotic heroine laughs at that. "No, they don't, no matter how amusing that would be. There are several rogues who work within Winter Hill's territory, and some of them agreed to pass on information to Winter Hill considering the situation in the city."

"Okay, I can kind of see that. Not that I don't appreciate the offer, but why me? I'm not a master strategist. Samantha would even say I wind up flying by the seat of my pants most of the time."

"Don't sell yourself short. You are far from a bad tactician," Miss Militia replies. "As for why, a couple of reasons. First, this is an open meeting. Any cape who wants to join in the fight is welcome to come. We've invited other independent heroes to come if they wish. Second, you've shown that you can work alongside the villains to fight the Maras, and that hasn't gone unnoticed by us or them. Third, you definitely have enough power to swing around, and you are the person who knows where you can leverage it best. It's only reasonable that you hear the details you'll need to make that decision."

"Let me check on something first. I can't give you an answer right now."

"That's fine. We'll meet at 7:30 at the Marriott close to Headquarters. The conference room was judged to be neutral enough ground. I hope to see you there."

The screen vanishes, and you rub your temples. You want to go, no question about that. This is probably the best chance you're going to get at stopping MS-13. The problem is the very upfront alliance, and how certain people, namely your own allies and teammates, are going to react.

"I'm kind of glad Kurt isn't here right now," Lacey says into the silence. You look up to meet her eyes. "He would have flipped if he heard that."

"I'm aware."

Kurt made his displeasure at even the Truce well known when all this mess started, and his opinion on the matter has not changed much in the intervening week and a half. No one has said anything to you, but you've heard snippets of phone calls over the past week and most lately yesterday where it sounded like the situation is putting pressure on the Privateers as well, though you aren't sure about the whys and hows. What you do know is that he would try to forbid you from going, and that's the issue.

Not that you'd listen if he did, but that spitting in your teammates' eye tends to cause more problems than it solves.

Lacey watches you for a moment before she sighs and starts pulling leftovers out of the fridge. "This is one reason I don't involve myself in much of the Privateers' business. I'm not a fighter. I don't like conflict. Do you think you going will make a difference?"

"Lacey, I'm the most powerful Blaster in the city. The PRT rates me the same as Purity, and she's right below Legend. Yes, I would definitely make a difference."

"Then there's your answer. I'll warm up something so you can eat now, and if Kurt asks we'll keep the details of your trip to ourselves."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx​

The conference room is already full when you arrive, even a couple of minutes early.

On the right side of the table sit Chevalier and Miss Militia. None of the Wards are present, though this is no great surprise considering the differences in how Philadelphia deploys its underaged heroes compared to Brockton Bay. Beside them is one of the Mishmash triplets; probably the one with Thinker powers considering the Brute with her cropped hair and the Mover with her restless energy stand behind her. With the unseated Mishmash sisters against the wall are Hellbeast; Spiderbite, a Striker with a paralytic touch; and someone you don't recognize, a slightly overweight cape who looks like he is made of white plastic with holes running up his arms and legs and in several spots in his torso.

On the villain side of the room are Jotunn and Solaire at the table, Cinderella and Vortex – the leader of an independent villain team who is capable of producing localized whirlwinds – in the next two seats. Behind them are Cailleach; Pounce; Snow White; Sleeping Beauty; Vortex's teammates Slo-Mo, who slows down individuals within his immediate vicinity, and Flop, a Trump with the ability to enhance a random aspect of another cape's powers for a short time; your fellow Brocktonite Circus; and Gush, another recent arrival to the Philly scene and a Breaker/Blaster who can spray the black sludge that makes up his body to entrap people.

Eight on one side, twelve on the other, and you and Samantha almost even the numbers up. As you take the seat next to Mishmash after her imperious wave towards it, you can't help but think about the impact this gang war has had on the balance of power. The Warlocks gone, MS-13 soon to join them if this meeting goes well, and that leaves only Winter Hill and Fairyland as the established gangs in the city along with a smattering of independents. Philadelphia has always been on the extreme low side as far as cape numbers go, and the majority of those who are left and are not rogues are already in this room. This is as near an even hero-villain ratio as the city has likely ever had.

7:30 hits, and the fast Mishmash sister closes the door.

"Thank you all for coming," Chevalier says, giving a nod to the villains in attendance. "I know this is different than how we normally do things. Endbringer fights are one thing, as is a Truce such as we have been operating under. This is a very different set of circumstances."

"I'm not too sure about that." You are not all that surprised that Jotunn would disagree with the leader of the Protectorate. You just expected it to take longer than the opening statement. "True, the Maras are not an Endbringer. Not even close. Nonetheless, they are a threat to Philadelphia. We live here just as you do. Those who are not willing to band together to defend the City of Brotherly Love do not deserve to call it home."

…Or maybe not disagreement, just a very strange power play that you really don't understand the point of. Is he just trying to say that the villains are equals and not technically under Chevalier's command? It doesn't sound right, but you can't see his angle.

Chevalier appears willing to let the interruption slide, however, so you assume whatever it was is not wholly important. "Well said. As such, let us progress to the heart of the matter. The Mara Salvatrucha and what we are going to do to stop them.

"Thanks to support from the Think Tank, we have a location for where the Maras have likely chosen as their base of operations." Miss Militia unrolls a map that had been laying in front of her, and Chevalier continues, "It is in the heart of the Badlands, on Indiana Avenue. These buildings were all purchased by a shell company that was upon investigation a front for MS-13, and they were bought long enough ago that they have probably been heavily fortified by now. We do not know how much cape support Cadejo has now that Cero and Mysterio have been arrested, but Thinker analysis indicates that there is at least one more cape assisting him."

"Two, actually. Luz and Oscuro, either a husband and wife or a brother and sister pair. Loyal to a fault towards La Muerte, the human-controlling Master who is officially only the commander of the Sinaloa Cartel forces in Sinaloa itself, which means she is almost certainly the true leader of the Cartel and from there MS-13." The smile Jotunn gives the Protectorate heroes is beyond devious. "Luz is a Blaster, capable of firing powerful lasers from preset points, but his power takes time to charge. Oscuro is a Shaker who distorts people's senses within a single enclosed area. They will probably provide the third and second lines of defense, respectively."

"How do you know that?" asks Miss Militia in a suspicious voice.

"My dear, my sources may be more underground than yours, but they are no less informed."

Cinderella clears her throat. "This is all well and good and all, but what do you mean, second and third defenses? Who's first?"

"The unpowered members, I would presume," comes Mishmash's reply. "They will likely be stationed in the buildings around whichever Cadejo is working out of. In sufficient numbers and appropriately armed and bunkered, they would pose a threat to normal PRT forces."

"Several people in this room, too," you can't help but point out. "As someone whom they shot a missile at, I can say with certainty that they have weapons that would kill anyone who doesn't have Brute-level defenses."

Mishmash nods after a moment's thought. "You are correct. A solid plan will be of critical importance in attaining victory."

A thought crosses your mind, and after a moment you mentally shrug. Winter Hill already knows that you have technologic abilities since you had Samantha show and explain Wide Area Search, and Alexandria figured out that your staff was technologic, which means the rest of the Protectorate likely knows too. Might as well spill more of the beans from that bag. «Hey, Storm. Can you scan that map and extrapolate what it looks like in real life from photos and blueprints online?»

«I can do it. Minimal computation required.»

Good enough for you. You summon a screen flat on the table and flick it along the surface to stop on top of the map. The corners expand, and from the map raises an electric blue model of that section of the city.

"…Thank you, Calamity Witch," Chevalier says after staring at the screen for a second. "The group of buildings in question is here"—the cluster of boxes where he points grow in size while the others vanish—"and we expect Cadejo and his support to be in this building in particular." The middle building turns red.

A snicker comes from behind the seated villains, and Pounce covers her mouth, but not before you hear, "I want."

"All the other buildings will have regular guys in them?" Solaire asks with a frown. "That'll be hard to get through. Can't just rush in, or they'll shoot us in the back. Can't take them out first, or Cadejo and friends will escape."

"Indeed," says Jotunn, tapping his fingers on the table. "I assume we will be split into two groups for this assault? One group to attack the capes, and the other to mop up the rest of the gang."

Mishmash nods. "That is the plan. Generally, we want capes with either Brute ratings or armor of some kind to lead the main attack. People who will be able to stand up to Cadejo, and now Luz's attacks as well. Anyone with wide-area attacks would be better suited to deal with the soldiers due to the larger area and therefore lower risk of friendly fire."

"From the Protectorate side, I will be inside taking the fight to Cadejo while Miss Militia will take part in the outside phase. Sere and the Wards will stay at Headquarters, ready to deploy if something happens in another part of the city. I take it you will be joining me inside, Jotunn?"

It's a good thing Chevalier appears ready to call the leader of Winter Hill on whatever weird politics he wants to play. The frost giant thinks for a moment and nods. "Yes, I and Solaire both. Cailleach will join Miss Militia. Like you, we will keep Pounce in reserve"—the cat-girl whines at that decree—"though Angel Dust might be able to cook up something to help us against Cadejo. I assume you have your own strategy for actually capturing him?"

"We do."

"While both Snow White and I are capable of large-scale attacks," Cinderella says, "my own powers carry too great a risk for collateral damage in a confined space. Snow White is better for joining you against Cadejo."

"And your other princess?" grunts Vortex, the first time he has spoken in the entire meeting.

"In this kind of confusion, her powers would be too likely to cause additional problems."

"Fine. I'm sitting this one out," he tells the room. "Can't do much against lasers or ghost-dogs, and you don't want me blowing all the rest of you away outside."

"Thank you for your restraint," Miss Militia replies, just a little catty. Is there some history between these two you don't know about?

As a Brute, Hellbeast volunteers for the indoor group, and so does Spiderbite, who states that his power might be effective against Cadejo even when intangible. The Brute Mishmash sister joins that group, too, while the Mover can do better in the wide-open space of the compound. The Thinker volunteers to help run the console at the Protectorate base and coordinate the assault. Despite their leader choosing to stay put, Flop offers to boost the capes going after the capes, which leaves Slo-Mo to assist with the unpowered gang members. Circus and Gush join Miss Militia's group, and after a moment so does Shard, the plasticky cape you did not recognize, mentioning that his powers don't do well around allies either.

That is everyone else in the room, and both Chevalier and Jotunn turn to you and Samantha.


Can I just say that even without the magic parts of it, I would really love to have the sheer cyber technology of Nanoha Devices? Imagine what the world would be like with the holographic screens and data transfers in the show.

Where in the battle will you take part?
[ ] Go after the capes. Your allies will be Chevalier, Jotunn, Solaire, Snow White, Hellbeast, Spiderbite, Mishmash and Flop.
[ ] Take down the minions. Your allies will be Miss Militia, Cailleach, Cinderella, Mishmash, Slo-Mo, Circus, Gush, and Shard.

A subvote should be included if you want Samantha to go with the other group. Don't worry about any plans beyond this right now, as strategy will be decided next chapter. I recommend that you vote based on which characters you'd like to fight alongside or learn more about.