Magical Girl Escalation Taylor (Worm/Nanoha)

[Silently Watches]

Heatstroke 10.x

"…Now, regarding the recent movements of the Revengers…"

Thomas Calvert sighed, even if the effect was ruined by dint of only being able to do it in one of his dual timelines. He did not need to hear about the movements of the very team of capes he had hired to do his more obvious dirty work. He already knew them in greater detail than the fools running the PRT ever would.

Sadly, he could not completely ignore these blowhards, not without risk to his position as team leader of the Chicago PRT. A small risk, but a risk nonetheless. It was why he had the meeting on speakerphone here at his base while he was planning out his men's next mission, and in his disposable timeline he had even deigned to attend in person. It was in that timeline, of course, that he could not show his utter lack of interest.

The door to the PRT conference room opened, and an assistant of some such scurried in. "S-S-Sorry to interrupt, sir, but there's a situation… Um…"

Rather than snap at the sniveling peon, Director Carpenter waved him into the room. "Speak up, son. What's going wrong now?"

"A building in Englewood just exploded." The various team leaders and administrators leaned in to listen more carefully, and even Thomas found himself concerned in both timelines. Englewood? That was where he had stuffed Bakuda and set her to making more of her bombs. Had she finally gone off the reservation as he had half-expected her to do? "The reports are… really weird. Black holes and ice and other things."

"It sounds like someone stumbled onto Bakuda's workshop, then. Thank you, Simmons." The aide rushed back out, and Carpenter turned to face Thomas. "Calvert, get a couple of teams together. I want PRT presence there five minutes ago."

Of course, in the timeline he was going to keep, the words were slightly different. "Murphy, get a couple of teams together. I want boots on the ground five minutes ago. We'll resume the meeting once this matter has been resolved."

Finally. In his base he hung up the phone while in the PRT building he gave the Director a nod and made his way from the conference room near the top of the building to the elevator that would take him to the garage. He pulled up a list on his office computer of which of his agents were working that day. He could not permit Bakuda to be brought into custody. Considering the unstable woman's narcissism and ego, the chances of her folding and revealing anything to the PRT would normally be minimal, but Carpenter had a damnable sort of charisma that had converted more than one villain who would otherwise be bound for prison.

He also called the team leaders of his mercenaries to come to his office. His base was closer to Bakuda's workshop than the PRT building, so they would be able to reach her and pick her up before the PRT could get there. She would undoubtedly be livid about being found, which would only serve to drive her deeper into his pocket. Or, if it turned out she had not been discovered and had just been playing around, it would give him the opportunity to discipline her for being so reckless.

The elevator dinged and opened, and he stepped out to find a small knot of agents forming in front of him. He called out several of the members and organized them into three teams. "Cavanaugh, Young, Lovins, Desmuch, you four with me. Let's move, people."

Everyone scattered into trucks, and he followed his men into the back of one as well. "What's the plan?" asked Desmuch when the door was closed and the recording devices placed in every PRT vehicle as a Master-Stranger precaution were shut down. Lovins put the truck into gear and followed after the others out of the garage, his eyes still looking back at them through the rearview mirror.

"Carpenter thinks it might be Bakuda's workshop that exploded. If that's the case, we pick her up and take a detour to let her out. She threatened to detonate failsafes she has hidden through the city and I decided it was better to release her so those bombs could be found and disarmed rather than risking innocent bystanders. While I'm handling her 'arrest', find out who found her and set off a confrontation. We need them painted as villains—"

Orange light flashed in his office, and before he could blink the spots out of his eyes an intense heat brushed over his face. It was enough that his mask actually caught fire. He screamed in shock and surprise and shoved himself away from his desk to rip the head of his bodysuit off before the flames could burn his eyes.

"Hey there, Coil," a young woman's voice said in a mocking voice. "I'm sorry, or is it… Thomas Calvert?" He looked up to meet the intruder's eyes only for his mouth to drop slightly. In his office was that Hebert girl and her pet Case 53, an energy blade attached to the side of her staff. Her he could manage, but next to her was the true elephant in the room. Chevalier had his trademark cannonblade braced against his shoulder. "It's so hard to keep your identities straight—"

He severed that timeline and took a couple of deep breaths from the safety of the PRT van in what was meant to be his disposable timeline. Chevalier. If the head of the Philadelphia Protectorate was involved, that could only mean that the truth of his identity was out. Carpenter would not have sent him into the field if the PRT directors knew, but it was only a matter of time before the information spread, and there was no way he could get ahead of it.

"Boss?"

"Change of plans," he said, projecting confidence to his men. That was the problem with mercenaries; they would only follow so long as they knew their employer would and could keep paying them. He knew that from personal experience. How many people had he turned on once it became obvious that no matter what happened his employer at the time would be arrested or killed and leave him out in the cold? "Heroes just broke into the base. Head to the nearest safehouse outside city limits. We will regroup once everyone else arrives. Deactivate all the tracking mechanisms in the truck in the meantime."

That would keep them in line for the moment. As soon as he was no longer in immediate danger, he could kill them all as quickly as possible before moving on. He had a number of false identities to choose from when it was safe.

Run. Adopt a new identity. Salvage as many of his resources as possible. Then and only then would he stop to plan anew.

The fastest way to the safehouse was via the interstate, and he relaxed slightly when they had merged with the rest of the traffic. That calm was shattered when they had to pass through the toll booth. This was exactly how the PRT had been able to capture Mockshow when she animated one of their vehicles, by detecting her crossing through a toll booth early in the morning when no one human was watching.

The timelines split.

"Get us off the freeway," he told Lovins in one of them. "The next exit, get us to another road out of the city that doesn't have tolls."

In the other, he kept his silence. The PRT probably would not even think to track them this way, and even if they did, it would happen after they were too far away for that to give their pursuers more than a general direction.

"Um, Commander? What's that?"

He leaned forwards to see what Lovins was talking about. Above I-55 a shimmer in the sky faded to reveal a gunmetal grey aircraft with a red and orange dragon head painted on the nose.

That bitch had Dragon involved in this too?!

The dragon's mouth glowed a bright blue, and bolts of light rained down on the asphalt right in front of them. Lovins had no time to stop before a trio of laser blasts blew holes in the hood of the truck. Orange light shined inside the back from the windows mounted inside the rear doors, and he closed that timeline as soon as he caught sight of the witch's hat.

The timelines split.

"Go to the airport," he told one set of men while the rest stayed on Highway 50. They were moving towards the next interstate, so if they could just get there they could lose themselves in the traffic. And this time, there would be no way for Hebert to find them.

They were halfway to I-290 and approaching the Midway airport in the two respective timelines when a dark-clad figure landed on the surface of Highway 50. "Idiot," he said with a tight sneer. "Run. Her. Over."

"Yes, sir."

The girl shifted slightly, and a tiny ball of light appeared. Did she really think she could stop them with that?

The light raced towards them, and it was no longer a dot. It was an ever-growing circle that had now reached the same width as the road, and it was then that they drove into it. The truck vanished around them, and he screamed as the left side of his face was ripped apart by molten steel.

The timelines split.

"The airport is too exposed," he told the men. "Take us by residential roads toward I-55 again. We'll backtrack and find another way out of the city."

"Are you sure, sir? We're almost to the airport already."

"I know that! Get us out of here!"

The mercenaries looked at each other, and he worried that he would have to drop this timeline already. Rather than continue arguing, however, Lovins turned the wheel and directed them down some little two-lane road. In the car still moving towards the airport, he rubbed his temples. Hebert was persistent, that much was sure, but even with Dragon her ability to find him had to be limited. It was just not possible for her to stay on top of him.

Due to the comparative speeds of the two trucks, it was no surprise that the one headed for the airport made it to its goal while the other had barely left that road. He jumped out of the truck as soon as possible and ripped off his tie to stuff it in his jacket. He would need to buy the first ticket he could find and move on from there. The only blessing in this entire thing was that the PRT could not have frozen his accounts already, so purchasing the ticket would not be an issue.

A click came from behind him, and the mercenaries opened fire.

It was difficult to swallow, but somehow he managed it and did not even give the others any obvious looks of fear. Obviously the men were becoming suspicious, which meant they would not take long to turn on him.

The timelines split.

"Head to the Ford City Mall."

"Pull over."

The men in the first truck did as he ordered, but in the second Young gave him a suspicious glance. "Why?"

"The van is too suspicious. We'll find another car, hotwire it, and get out of town that way. Something is happening at the PRT base, and I want to be far away before it can reach us."

"What's the plan when we get to the mall?" Young asked in the timeline when his men were not disobeying him.

"Get a new vehicle and new clothes. If need be, we can split up and meet at the safehouse independently." By which time he would be well away from all of them. It was looking like it was too dangerous to continue as a group. If he could leave them in the mall, all the better.

The second truck slowed to a stop next to an unremarkable minivan, and the five of them climbed out. With no need for subtlety, Cavanaugh broke the window of the driver's door and unlocked it. "Won't take me a minute to get it started."

Good, good. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the car. His building headache throbbed in time with the thump-thump-thump growing louder overhead. Opening his eyes, he looked for the source only for more bright blue lasers to fall on top of them.

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, as much because of the pain stabbing into the back of his head as because of frustration. What the hell was he supposed to do?!

The timelines split.

"Pull over."

"Why?"

"Because I said so, dammit!" The three men in back with him slowly moved their hands towards their guns, and that was the last straw. He grabbed his pistol and put a bullet in Desmuch's head before dropping the timeline and watching the buildings pass by as they headed towards the mall.

Fucking bitch. He was going to find her and kill her with his own two hands.

The truck took the turn onto the road leading to the parking lot, and Fate proved once again that she had abandoned him in favor of the Hebert cunt. A white-hot energy blast punched through the hood of the truck. They skidded to a halt, and he looked out the window to once more find Hebert, this time with her pet floating beside her.

The timelines split.

"Shoot them down!"

His mercenaries grabbed their guns and jumped out, bullets flying at the pair. A ball of light formed at the tip of her staff, and once more fire melted the world.

The timelines split.

"Run!"

Doors were flung open, and Thomas along with the other men jumped out of the car and started running. There were too many of them for the girl to take down at once, and if he could somehow get away…

He chanced a look back and saw several energy blasts flying at all the men simultaneously, and one of them came straight at him. He dived to the side only for it to smash into the side of his head, cutting off that timeline as well.

"Commander? What's the plan?" asked Cavanaugh. All four mercenaries watched him, and he knew that he was in nearly as much danger inside this truck as he would be outside.

He forced the pain from his fully grown migraine to the side. Without answering, he opened the back doors and stepped out. Hebert slowly flew closer.

The timelines split.

He grabbed his pistol and raised it to fire. A ball of light flicked down and exploded in his face.

This was it, wasn't it? He slowly drew his pistol, and while Hebert once again created a cluster of energy blasts, they stayed put in their lazy orbits when he threw the gun to the side. She waved her hand in an unmistakeable signal, and without any other choice he lowered himself to the ground with his hands up in the air.

"The rest of your men, too," she ordered.

The timelines split.

Pitching his voice low, he told the men, "Get out and shoot her." Young and Desmuch shared a look, then Young lifted his sidearm and shot him in the stomach.

That timeline was dropped, and he held back the urge to scream impotently. How?! How could this all have gone so wrong?! "Get out. We're done," he said, his voice resigned. He thought the mercenaries would once more rebel from the expressions on their faces, but they left the safety of the truck and laid down on the ground. Clearly they had no intentions of fighting this little girl of their own accord.

"… worry about Coil ever again. I have him right where I want him." Hebert came closer, and the smirk she wore made him wish he still had his gun so he could try once more to put a bullet in her fucking face. "On his knees."


And DONE. Whew. As the final prize, pick a spell for Taylor to learn.

 

[Silently Watches]

After Action Report for Arc 10: Heatstroke
This was a pain to keep track of. I mean, holy shit. I wound up actually drawing out a flow chart for what Coil did in his split timelines based on what choices you could make. If this went much longer than seven chapters, I think I would have gone insane.

Coil needs to just go die in a fire.

Avengers Assemble

• I let you pick up three people to take with you to Chicago. This being a "boss fight" of sorts, I guess, I felt like giving you a five man band. Try to guess who I pictured in which role if you want.
• Anyway, the obvious winners were Dragon and Vista. Like, wow, no contest there. After a lot of shuffling, Chevalier became your third, which is part of the reason his introduction was a touch antagonistic. Vista's ill-timed ultimatum was not part of the plan.

The Real World

• You chose to focus first on Bakuda. Because different characters offered the plans, lending your support to Vista means you get another (probably unnecessary at this point) boost in your reputation with her. It… doesn't do so great with the attitude between Taylor and Chevy. Nor did the conversation when you were waiting for Myrddin to show up.
• At her workshop, you used Recursion Field to find out that she had booby-trapped her base. Not how I expected you to search it, and honestly the thought of using a Dimensional Barrier that way had never occurred to me. You managed it without much difficulty.
• Sadly, magic is not quite as OCP as you might think (functionally, a dimensional barrier is not too dissimilar from teleportation), so while Coil didn't get a perfect picture of what would happen when Taylor and co. popped out of Recursion Field, he did know that he was being attacked. It meant he could drop that timeline and get the hell out of Dodge.
• Correction: try to get out of Dodge. It didn't exactly go as planned.

What Might Have Been

• Regarding whom to ask to join your attack, different characters brought different strengths and weakness to the table. Of those that were voted for…
  • Cailleach would have been happy to help once you told her you lived in that apartment building. As you already know, she takes the Unwritten Rules very strongly.
  • Miss Militia would have made it easier than most other characters to go after Coil as Thomas Calvert, but Chevalier gave you a bigger bonus in that department.
  • Epoch would have been an interesting choice. He has some contacts in Chicago he could have gotten information from that would have informed Taylor that Bakuda was rumored to have bombs in her minions' heads.
  • Shipwright has a Hazard Jacket to protect himself, and he could have gotten a guaranteed point of Inspiration towards Exotic Physics had he gone with you. Dragon was still a safer choice.
  • Teana would have told you no outright. Thanked you for thinking of her, but she's legally prohibited from getting involved.
  • Circus would have enjoyed getting one over on Coil and could have given you told you he built his Brockton Bay base in an Endbringer shelter, which would have made it easier to find.
• Going after Coil first would have helped ease tensions between you and Chevalier. This was supposed to be the easiest attack on his base since he had no clue you were in town and after him. Of course, then the blasted little snake drops that timeline and sends a signal to Bakuda to start raising hell. While the PRT is mobilizing, he gets in his car and starts evacuating in one timeline and leading troops in the other until he discovers you know who he is. After that, he does his best to lose you when you come after him. That would give Bakuda time to get ready for war, and unless you had a GREAT plan and great luck on the dice, somebody would have gotten injured. Maybe killed.
  • Or you could have taken a break to go after Bakuda, which would have been a fight not much harder than the one you got, but it would make the Calvert chase trickier since he would have a longer head start.
• Calvert was a target no one but you and Samantha really wanted to take on. If you had done so, Chevalier was actually a great resource since he can make it seem natural that you want to be in Chicago to meet Myrddin, another "magic cape". Unfortunately, Calvert isn't there because he split the timeline and drops the one where you arrest him, so then it's a choice between going after his base or hitting Bakuda first, who again has started her bombing run. Choosing him would net you a moderately difficult Coil fight where he runs away and you're too busy chasing him and his armored truck and his goons to find Tattletale. The Bakuda fight after that? Another hard, hard fight.
  • "But Silently, what if we decided to save Coil for last and took care of Bakuda in the meantime?" Well, my hypothetically curious little friend, then you would have faced Coil in all his serpentine glory. Guards armed with Tinkertech weapons and backed up by the Revengers (AKA the Evil Fantastic Four). Coil would have revealed Tattletale and thrown her at your group before trying to shoot Vista through her. That would have ended the arc with the choice to kill him or let him be arrested. Vista would have survived without major injury thanks to her armored limb, but that wouldn't have been obvious at the time of the vote.

Rewards

• There was only one "reward" offered for each path, which was based on your first target. Going after Bakuda, for instance, earned you a random assortment of Tinkertech bombs. It's a surprise in every bang!
  • Hitting Coil's base first meant you would find Tattletale drugged up in his basement, and Samantha would have teleported her to Tim before reentering the fray. From there you would have had the chance to turn her over to the Protectorate for rehab and (eventual) recruitment or keeping her for yourself as Thinker fodder.
  • Focusing on Calvert in his civvy identity didn't promise a material reward, but it would have kept relations between the Chicago Protectorate and the PRT at their best since everybody would be on the same page from the start. As is, now there is some distrust where there wasn't before it was known that the PRT was housing a villain among their leadership.
• This was a long series of fights, but at the end of it you got to learn a new spell. You chose Petty Cure.

I am putting this quest on hold for a little bit. I really really really need to work on my actual story since I kinda want to finish that before next July, so I'll be taking some time to get it back on track.

 

[Silently Watches]

Cloudy Skies 11.1

Saturday, June 25

Orange light shines on the rooftop of Philadelphia's Protectorate Headquarters, and you, Samantha, Vista, and Chevalier step off the fading sigil. The light is swallowed up by the deepening evening, casting the two official heroes into shadow. Still, there is just enough light from the streets nearby to make out Chevalier turning to you and giving you a nod. "I can't say ripping Coil out from within the heart of Chicago's PRT office was fun, but I am grateful you brought this to our attention."

"The first part was fun," argues Samantha, returning Vista's goodbye hug. "It was the rest of the time we had to spend there that was not at all entertaining. I can understand a debriefing, maybe even two, but we had to do it five times!"

You nod emphatically. "I'm with Samantha one hundred percent on this. If you have to do that every time you get back from a patrol, I'm almost surprised you manage to get any actual hero work done. Cut down the bureaucracy time, and you could probably squeeze another patrol or two in."

Chevalier crosses his arms, which… Okay, that was probably a little more direct and critical than you'd normally be about the Protectorate, particularly in light of the… issue of Vista's ultimatum regarding her lack of combat time, but you just spent three hours talking about the same fight over and over again! At this point you're afraid your dreams tonight will be a nightmare featuring the Chicagoan bigwigs demanding yet another from the top recitation—

"Is that so?"

All four of you whip your heads skyward, and down from the darkness drifts a woman garbed in black. Black bodysuit, black helmet, black cape. The only spot of color is the white tower detailed on her chest.

For all that she is known for her 'classic hero' three-point landings, the sight of Alexandria touching down silently is considerably more ominous.

"Alexandria? What are you doing here?" Chevalier asks. His voice sounds wary, but the shadow of his cannonblade has not moved from its position on his back. Between that and the fact that no one in their right mind who doesn't go by the name Siberian would ever want to take her on, it isn't exactly a leap of logic to realized he is worried about why a member of the Protectorate is here to see him right after he, a Ward, and two independent heroes went gallivanting off to cause trouble in another city.

"I received word from the Chief Director's office about your recent adventure in Chicago. Nobody is happy about the situation for too many reasons to go into detail about." She turned her head and very obviously stared the leading hero of Philadelphia down. "We will have a conversation about this later, Chevalier, but not tonight. I need to speak to the true architect of this debacle."

If you are upset about how quickly Chevalier and Vista vanish off the roof, it is honestly more to do with the fact that you can't join them.

"Calamity Witch. Let's have a chat."

The flying brick of the Triumvirate steps past you to stand at the edge of the building, the streetlights reducing her to little more than a clearly pissed-off silhouette. You reluctantly walk up to join her, though you keep several feet between the two of you. Even though you elected to stand to her right in deference to her lack of a left eye, she does not look at you, and then your view is mostly blocked off by Samantha stepping up to your left and putting herself mostly between the two of you.

Silence descends upon you for nearly a minute before Alexandria sighs. "I don't think you appreciate the gravity of your actions today. At least, I hope you don't. I would much prefer that this was the result of ignorance rather than active malice."

That careless dismissal rankles and burns under your skin. "Excuse me?! I didn't hire a known murderer and scumbag into my team. I didn't go around bombing innocent people's homes. You had better not be blaming me for what went down today."

"It was a mistake to offer Calvert a role in our organization," she acknowledges with a slow nod, "but it is not what you did that I have an issue with. It is how you did it. You had a legitimate grievance with him, so why did you not inform the PRT and the Protectorate of the information you possessed and let the matter be handled without risking the safety of the people in Chicago? It it clear not as though you lack contacts here in Philadelphia who would listen to you, not if you can convince the local branch leader to accompany you on this revenge mission."

"I didn't actually invite Chevalier to come along. He tagged along because he refused to let Vista come on her own." That is not to say that his friendship with Myrddin and his knowledge of how the PRT operated was unhelpful, not in the least, but that is probably not the best defense you can muster. "And contacting the PRT? Why would I? Calvert wasn't hiding what kind of a monster he was. Not to mention, I know how this would play out. I'm not a Protectorate hero, but Calvert's a company man. Just accusing him of being a villain would be ignored or used against me, and I'm sure any evidence I provided would be conveniently 'lost'. I know how this game goes; I've played it before." It was the same thing that happened every time you tried to convince the staff at Winslow to stop Emma, Sophia, and Madison. "No, I had to drag him kicking and screaming into the light where there was no way anyone could ignore what was happening."

You glare past Samantha at Alexandria, but she does not turn to look back at you. She just continues looking out at the city. Her fingers tap rhythmically on her crossed arms. "The PRT does not work as well as it should on paper," she admits, "partly because of its nature as a national organization and partly because it can't if it is to fulfill its purpose, but inefficiency does not equate to widespread corruption. Based on the information I received from the Chief Director's office, I would estimate that nearly everyone who had any knowledge of Calvert's crimes prior to his imprisonment is dead. There would be no cover up. Did you not notice how Director Carpenter reacted to the news? He and his staff would have pulled Calvert in for a thorough investigation without hesitation.

"Instead, what happened is that you deepened and widened gaps the Protectorate and the PRT have been trying to remove since the organizations' inceptions. Did you have the misfortune of meeting Director Piggot when you were still in Brockton Bay?" You shake your head. "She is not the only member in the PRT's higher echelons who is prejudiced against capes for one reason or another. A villain infiltrating the ranks of the PRT and weakening it from the inside? Independent heroes and members of the Protectorate turning against PRT agents? This only fuels their efforts to tear the Protectorate and the PRT apart from each other, and the fact that both these issues are related will be quickly glossed over."

Alexandria shakes her head. "You don't understand how much effort it has taken to integrate capes and cape law enforcement into society. That is not a criticism; it simply happened before you were born, or at most when you were only a small child. You never saw the world capes first came into. It is our goal that you and others of your generation never have to. But the peace we managed is tenuous, and even small acts done in haste or without thinking have the potential to undo so many of our successes."

Ugh. No! No more politics!

While you quietly fume at the injustice that there are so many problems that have the indecency of not being able to be blasted away, Samantha props one hand on her hip. "Wait a minute. What did you mean, the PRT can't work effectively if it's to fulfill its purpose? That's complete nonsense. The PRT's job is to capture criminals. How is inefficiency supposed to make it better?"

"Oh. I wish it were so simple." With a sigh, Alexandria finally turns to face you and your Guardian Beast. "The PRT's purpose is not so clear-cut. On a national level, it is not to capture criminals. It is to protect the United States from parahuman and parahuman-related activities. A small distinction, but an important one. You are too young to remember Gavel, I expect. He was an Australian vigilante who would track down the civilian identities of villains, expose them, and then would target them and their families, often killing everyone involved. One villain whom he targeted retaliated by bombing a shopping mall where they knew he would be. He and other capes employing similar tactics were part of the impetus that introduced the 'cape customs', the 'Unwritten Rules' we try to abide by. It prevents the kind of escalation that sees innocent people killed in the crossfire of our fights.

"The original plan was to cement these customs in place and then tighten the screws on larger villain organizations slowly and carefully enough that there were no large-scale revolts, leading eventually to a world where the vast majority of active villains would be individuals or small groups without any real support, groups whose scales were small enough that they posed minimal risk," she says in a wistful voice. "Then Behemoth entered the picture, followed soon by Leviathan and the Simurgh. Now the Protectorate had to deal with monstrosities that can't be killed and would potentially slaughter thousands of people every time they appeared. We weren't and still aren't strong enough to handle them on our own. We needed villains to join the fights, and by sheer necessity that led to rules and protocols that get the worst of the worst off the streets but leave enough villains free that they would not fear volunteering for these fights."

"And once Scion vanished…" you murmur.

She nods. "Yes, that threw another wrench into the works, though none of us ever expected a single parahuman to be the silver bullet. What we have now is a terrible and messy compromise, and yet it is the only solution we have happened upon that has the potential to work."

"I must have missed Coil and his mercenaries volunteering at the Simurgh fight," says Samantha in a bone-dry voice.

Alexandria scoffs. "Did I say I disagreed with your motives for attacking Calvert? Or with the results? Ripping him out of the PRT was a necessity, and for doing so you have my gratitude. That does not mean that you can keep blasting every obstacle that you find in your path without forethought. You of all people need to learn to consider all the potential consequences of your actions."

"What do you mean, me of all people?" you demand with a scowl.

"We are still in the first generation of capes, but that won't always be the case. You won't have people cleaning up your mistakes for you." You take a step back at the vehemence in her words. "I'm invulnerable, not immortal. Neither is Legend, and he also has a family he will need to spend more and more time with in the future. Eidolon is already retired except for emergencies. You and the other powerful heroes in your generation need to learn responsibility, because sooner than you expect it is going to find you whether you're ready for it or not."

Fear and uncertainly clog your throat, and you struggle to swallow them down. Never, not in a million years, would you have thought you'd hear Alexandria of all people discussing her mortality. It is a sobering thought, that one day the Triumvirate would be gone, and the idea of a world without their great and terrible strength is a terrifying one.

The not-so-subtle suggestion that you are a candidate for some kind of Triumvirate 2.0 you aren't going to touch with a ten-foot pole.

"If this is your idea of a recruitment pitch, it… needs work," you finally manage to get out.

"Inspiring speeches are Legend's department, and for good reason. I prefer cold, hard facts." She lifts off the ground and floats a few feet above the rooftop. "You think being an independent cape is a hindrance to having your opinions heard? That no one would pay attention to your ideas for how to make things better? There's an easy solution to that problem."

Alexandria takes off at records speeds, her pronouncement echoing heavily in her wake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx​

Sunday, June 26

Walking through Dragon's Vancouver manufacturing plant, you eventually track down Tim and Dragon sitting at a table. The necklace form of Tim's Device is hooked up to the table, and screens that should be sliding over the computer screen that makes up the tabletop instead are floating above the surface where both Tinkers can easily manipulate them. "Not even a day off after going into battle?" Samantha calls out.

"No rest for the wicked, I'm afraid," Dragon replies with an absentminded wave. "As the first Device we are actually programming, we want to go through it with a fine-toothed comb. It's a brand-new programming language to me, and that makes it easier for little problems to slip through the cracks."

You glance over at the large semicircle of brass or gold that is also on the table. "Is that the Device you said you'd build for Maclibuin?"

Tim glances over and pats it as though he were a proud parent. "Yes it is. I finished it only yesterday. I just wanted Dragon to check on things before we consider giving it to him."

The Adepts – what remains of them anyway – will be thrilled when he finally gets this and becomes a proper mage. Not to mention, it will finally answer the question of whether Devices truly short out a cape's powers. Thinking about Devices and capes reminds of you Cassiel, actually, and the whispered offer that had passed between you. "Hey, Tim? A question for you. Hypothetically, would it be possible to build a Unison Device kind of like the one you built for Dragon, except instead of converting an A.I. it slurped up the mind of a person telepathically?"

For all that you phrased that question as delicately and in as light a tone as possible, both of them turn to stare at you.

"It… might be possible?" is Dragon's ultimate response. "That situation doesn't sound hypothetical in the slightest, but I have a hard time thinking of a reason why you would want to turn a person – fine, an organic person," she corrects herself with a smile in the face of Tim's disapproving stare, "into a program in a machine."

That is about the best opening you could have. Quickly you launch into a summary of your few interactions with the imprisoned little girl. When you are done, the Tinkers glance back at each other with greenish faces.

"I don't know that I'm entirely comfortable with this idea," Tim says with a shake of his head.

"I'm not either, but something about this 'Grandmama's powers sounds familiar." Conjuring a tiny screen next to her, Dragon scrolls through what must be hundreds of boxes of text before she finally stops on one in particular. "Oh. That's why they are familiar."

An image appears in midair, a candid shot from a distance featuring a large group of people dressed in a variety of costumes all in the color white, and the photo darkens except for one person in particular. "The powers Cassiel mentioned? They sound like those possessed by Balam. She's part of the Fallen, believed to be a high-ranking member or perhaps the leader of the family dedicated to worshiping the Simurgh. A powerful Stranger/Trump, from what little we know about her she can at least plant a backdoor of sorts into the minds of anyone who directly observes her with either natural or parahuman senses, and using that backdoor she can spy on her victims and what is around them at any time. Several attacks on the Fallen were planned years ago, but the information used to organize them was all derived through clairvoyance, and the Fallen were able to turn the attacks into ambushes. If Cassiel really is a second or third-generation cape with powers related to Balam's, it is no wonder she would be able to reach out to you even from a thousand miles away."

"And she wants you to turn her into a Unison Device?" asks Tim.

"She's a scared little girl who's been abused for who knows how long. This is the first hope for escape from that place that she's ever had."

"I would not want to leave any child in the clutches of the Fallen," Dragon says, "and I can't help but think about the terrifying synergy her powers could have with Balam's. Just imagine her pulling Chief Director Costa-Brown or Legend or Narwhal into their compound and Balam using her power on them to turn them into her spies. That would be a disaster. That being said, converting her still sounds… extreme."

"So what should we do instead? Could we assemble enough capes to storm the Fallen's base and save her?" That is not something you would be against necessarily, but you remember the fear on Cassiel's face when you suggested it to her.

The frown on Dragon's face at your question does not fill you with confidence. "That would be difficult at best. We don't know where the Fallen have their current base. That was the point of the previous attempts at surveillance."

"So either we open ourselves to becoming the eyes and ears of this Balam character, or we leave this girl in their hands until she breaks and becomes a powerful villain who screws us all over, or we bite the bullet and turn her into a fairy." Tim shakes his head and pulls up a selection of blueprints from Sextant's memory banks. "Guess we better get building."


"Maclibuin's Boost Device" added to Key Items.

This arc is going to be a little different. Partly it's because I couldn't come up with any good multipart subquests like I normally use for these longer arcs, but it's also to do with the fact that I really enjoyed the social activities from Arc 9. It should also provide a nice way to get back into this quest after my break.

Anyway, let's start it off by choosing three social activities to partake in this week. You can choose more than one of any type.

• Hang out with another character(s). This is by definition a non-combat activity.
• Go on patrol. You can vote for one non-Samantha character to join you if you want.
• Explore somewhere on Earth Bet.
• Explore another world, either one you have already seen or by picking one in the cluster at random.
• Train, either in the real world or in Perfect Storm's simulator.

There's a 24 HOUR moratorium both to discuss things and so everyone has a chance to see this is active again.

 

[Silently Watches]

[] Social with the Adepts. Complete the agreement


Cloudy Skies 11.2

Monday, June 27

You pull up a chronometer screen and nod. "That should be long enough for Standstill to get to the Adepts' place."

"I still don't understand why you or Samantha couldn't just teleport to her and take her to their hideout," Tim says with a huff as he picks up the standby form of his latest creation. "It would make things a lot easier."

"Maybe in the short term, but you didn't just have a weird conversation with Alexandria the way we did. I don't want to run into Legend and have to worry about being almost-threatened into joining the Protectorate because I'm powerful enough to be part of the next generation's Triumvirate. One of those talks is enough for a lifetime."

He shrugs but walks closer to you, and with a single command your casting sigil appears beneath you and erases the world to replace it with the drab walls of… an apartment? This is not where you met the three untrained mages last time! "Storm, did you take us to the wrong place?"

"Whoops. That's my fault. Maclibuin gave me a new address, and I had Sextant forward it to Storm." Tim clears his throat. "I, uh, thought he would tell you."

The jewel on your staff chirps in apology. "Did not consider matter significant to bother Mistress. Will do in future."

"It's fine, it's fine. Just took me by surprise. Anybody home?!" you call out.

Something thumps from down the hall, and in maybe ten seconds Epoch pokes his head out from around the corner. "Calamity Witch, and compatriots. You caught us by surprise, I'm afraid. Please, join us."

In the main living room you find Maclibuin and Standstill still sitting at a fold-up table with cartons of Chinese take-out in front of them. "What happened to your old base?" you ask, images of them being driven out of their headquarters dancing through your head.

"We decided it was too much space to defend with just the two of us. This is a safe house only a few of the Adepts ever knew about. We needed some place that Gevaudan and Lilliput wouldn't know about."

And the best safe house they could find is an apartment? You have your doubts about that but keep them to yourself. If this really is one of their homes, you don't want to mention it and unnerve them unnecessarily. "Well, we're back and with presents to boot. It might be easier if we split up, though. I can give you pointers on your spells, Epoch, and Samantha and Standstill can discuss some of the practicalities of creating a Guardian Beast. Meanwhile Shipwright can work with Maclibuin on the details of his Device—"

"I can't really do much on that score," Tim says, cutting you off. "I know enough about it to build the Device itself and can tell you the basics, but how to best use your spells? I wouldn't know where to begin. I'm just glad Storm had enough information to help with the programming."

Perfect Storm shouldn't have any information on support spells, but Immortal Assimilation Engine? That is a different kettle of fish entirely, and not one that will make you sleep easier at night.

"So what do I need to do?" asks Maclibuin.

"Not much at all. Just put it on and follow the directions."

Tim hands over a thin copper bracelet, the ends of the torc decorated with yellow spheres. Maclibuin shrugs and slips it on. "So what—"

"New user identified." Everyone startles at the deep voice that comes from the bracelet, the decorations on the ends flashing citrine light with each syllable. "Request Device designation change."

"It wants a name," Tim whispers, trying his best not to be overheard. Personally, you don't think the Device would care what Tim says since it – he? – is being worn by Maclibuin, but what he does is his business.

The gigantic mage scratches his chin. "A name. Hmm… There is only one appropriate name I can think of. Hiallus, who assisted Loan Maclibuin with the forging of his swords. That is your new name."

"Designation 'Hiallus' accepted. Ready to initialize."

"Proceed, I guess."

"Command acknowledged. Configuring Barrier Jacket. Optimizing protocols. Set up."

Maclibuin's body shines with brilliant light, enough that it eclipses his outline and turns him into an emerald sun. Several moments pass before the light finally fades and Maclibuin falls to his knees. His muscle shirt and jeans are gone, replaced by soft grey cargo pants tucked into boots and… well, it looks like another sleeveless shirt since his arms are still visible through the long coat he wears, revealing what is now a golden torc wrapped around his left bicep. The hood of that coat is pulled down, revealing the slim domino mask that along with the shadows of the hood will completely hide his identity.

"Mac!" Epoch and Standstill yell.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. That just felt weird." He grabs onto a nearby chair and pulls himself up to his feet. "I still feel a little strange, but I'm not hurt or anything." A small frown crosses his face, and then he grabs both sides of the folding chair and pulls as hard as he can. The chair stays intact when he gives up, which must not have happened for years considering how long he had his superstrength. This time he smiles. "Maybe more than a little strange, but definitely not in a bad way."

«I guess this is the best proof we can get that Devices really will strip capes of their original powers,» Samantha whispers to you telepathically. "Come over here, Standstill. We can have a nice long chat about turning animals into people and the responsibilities that come with it."

"Don't scare her too bad! And we can talk about Shooters and flying and telekinesis."

Epoch nods with a smile of delight and turns his chair around to face you while you sit on empty air. "I don't suppose I would be able to do that myself, would I?"

"Flight forces localized to center of mass. Small adjustments necessary to reorient position. Emulating Mistress relatively simple."

"Let's not jump ahead of ourselves," you warn Perfect Storm. "Since you don't have a Device to help with the calculations, we did our best to simplify the math. A Shooter spell is the easiest of the three, so we'll start with that then work on telekinesis and flight last."

A flick of your hand pulls up the screen with a much smaller formula than you are used to, but then again the spell you plan to 'teach', or rather refine, is also a different beast than Flare Shooter. Your personal spell has a large section of code that is explicitly for controlling and manipulating the unusual effects of the Mana Conversion Affinity Perfect Storm installed into your Linker Core along with the template itself, so that had to go along with the additions that turn your projectiles into homing missiles. At that point it became easier to further prune the code into its most basic form than to rework the other adjustable parameters, creating what is by far the smallest spell formula you have ever seen.

"We wanted this spell to be something you can whip out quickly in case you were surprised, which is part of the reason it's small. All this spell does is create the bullet itself and then fire it in a straight line."

"Um, Calamity Witch? Not that I am unappreciative, but what exactly am I supposed to do with this? It looks more like something a mathematician would come up, not a witch."

You look at the formula again and then back to him. What is he talking about? This is the simplest you could break it down! It's so basic you almost don't even need to do any vector calculus to run the transformation and oh yeah on second thought he might just have a point. «Storm? Is there any way you can simplify this so someone who hasn't had to learn post-college level math and doesn't have a Device can actually figure out what they're doing?»

«Can be done. High-level mathematics developed by Al Hazard to simplify magic experimentation. Pre-Device magics visualization and mnemonics. Mistress desires static graphic or simulation?»

Simulation? That sounds like it would probably be better, and at your command the screen clears itself of text to show a human silhouette, the shimmering dot in the middle of its chest obviously representing the Linker Core. Sounds of breathing play softly in the background as the dot expands and contracts slightly. A closer look at the dot shows that small flakes of light are drifting around and through it, and it is these that move with each breath.

"Oh, yes. This works much better."

"Mana generated or gathered by Linker Core," Perfect Storm says before changing the view to the outline standing with one arm outstretched. Red lightning streaks from the Linker Core down the arm to the palm of the hand. That part of the screen expands to shows the flakes of light swirling in tight spirals in every direction. As you and Epoch watch, all that magic falls towards the center and becomes a complete sphere. "Mana gathered and compressed. Flight vector calculated or imagined."

A ring appears around the sphere, and the edges curl inwards and stretch away from the hand. The second screen vanishes to show the silhouette again, and the image moves out so you can see a pair of lines leading from that silhouette to a second one. The sphere flies away from the first person's palm and hits the second person in the chest.

"Fire."

Comprehension lights Epoch's face. "So that's why I had so much trouble when I tried to do it! I couldn't get the ball to hold together because I was just trying to squeeze it into shape when what I really needed was to spin it and let centripetal force do the work for me. Even when I could get it to form I can't throw it. I have to lead it to the target." While he talks, he flexes his fingers, and within only a couple of seconds a blue orb surrounded by a faint haze begins growing just above his upturned palm.

That was faster than you thought he would get it, and the fact that he was already close is somewhat unnerving. Your feelings are unchanged when you hear Perfect Storm chime in, "In essence correct. Density of mana particles determines physical impact of spell. Range in strength from light source to explosion. Current formula limited to straight line." Equations dance along the edges of the screen as the path leading from the shooter to the target shifts around, the code becoming longer and more complicated and in turn twisting the path into a pretzel.

"…I think I can live with a straight line for now."

With the simulation method of teaching now proven to work – maybe even a little too well – showing Epoch how to move objects with his mind and to refine his flight takes less time than you had previously expected. Perfect Storm also fills in Samantha about this discovery, and a quick glance shows that she has pulled up a screen of her own to go over the last few details about the Guardian Beast ritual.

It is the screen in front of Maclibuin that grabs your attention now, because it does not have diagrams on it. It has actual formulas.

"Interesting," he tells Tim, scrolling through the calculations before flicking it away. "And all spells can be broken down like this?" Tim nods, which leads him to ask the million-dollar question. "Could it figure out what happens when I use my ritual?"

Tim opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no words come out. He looks to you only for you to hold out your hands cluelessly. How are you supposed to know? "I don't really know. I guess we could find out?"

"Standstill, do you still have your charms on you?" The woman pulls up the end of her sleeve to reveal a charm bracelet with five individual charms hanging from it and drops the bracelet over into Maclibuin's outstretched palm. A faint green nimbus surrounds him for a moment before it suddenly flares and a circular casting sigil appears beneath his feet.

«It shouldn't have adapted this soon,» Tim projects to you. «Even if his ritual was close enough to a Device spell for it to learn, I would have expected a few castings. This is way too fast. There's something else going on here.»

"Whoa," he says when the spell effect ends. "That was a rush. Hiallus, did you get all that?"

"Yes, sir. Analyzing now." A screen pops up with a rat's nest of code, and all of you watch the formula untangle itself. Two more screens showing other programs appear on either side. "Cross-referencing. Similarities found. Identifying variables."

Wait, what?

Sections of the code flash red and green, and the middle screen splits into two, the one on Maclibuin's left holding only the colored sections and the one on the right everything else. The screens that you can only assume are for his other spells merge with the color-coded one.

"Underlying spell isolated."

"There's… a spell specifically to enhance parahumans," mutters the hulking ex-cape in disbelief.

"I don't think there was such a spell before now." Maclibuin looks over at Tim. "I certainly don't know one, and I didn't program it into your Device. This was all you. It just so happens that the way you figured out to empower objects can also be used directly on people. At least, that's what I'm guessing based on everything we just saw."

"Or there's a simpler explanation than even that." You shrug. "Spells aren't secret knowledge that can only be known or performed if they are taught. They're more like physics with magic. You didn't get lucky and your spell hit that one-in-a-million chance of being like our own. Your spell and our spells are similar because that's just how magic itself works."

"I don't know whether to be happy or not about that," muses Epoch.

His teammate, on the other hand, rubs his chin in thought. "Question. If my ritual works like these spells enough that you can pull out a formal spell to do the same thing, does that mean we can do the same thing in reverse? Adapt any of these spells into an enchantment?"

"Running simulation." The leftover formula twists itself this way and that, and no more than ten seconds pass before it expands in such a way that there are multiple blanks in the code. "Enchantment template complete. Adaptable to any enhancement spell."

«What spells did you give him again?» you whisper to Tim.

«Healing and a strength boost. Which means he can now create items that turn anyone into a Brute, at least for a couple of seconds.»

«Is this something we need to warn the Protectorate about?» Samantha interjects.

Looking at the trio of former teammates, you can't help but want to give them the benefit of the doubt. Partly because you put a lot of work into them, but also partly because going around expecting everyone to act in the worst possible manner is a terrible way to go through life. «Let's not borrow trouble. Standstill and Maclibuin are both heroes, so they won't go off the deep end. Most likely. Hopefully.

«And if they do, we probably shouldn't make it look like we knew it was a possibility ahead of time and still gave them that power.»


"Maclibuin's Boost Device" removed from Key Items.
Epoch's, Maclibuin's, and Standstill's character sheets added.
Dragon's Synchronization updated.

All of Maclibuin's spells are Boost spells of one form or another. Add in a portable supercomputer, and it only made sense that Hiallus would figure out how to adapt the ritual into something(s) amazing.

Standstill now knows how to perform her own spell, but is her Guardian Beast…

[ ] Randomly generated – Dice rolls! You get no say in its parameters, but it will have exclusive abilities that make it more powerful than a designed Guardian Beast can be.
[ ] Designed – You determine its species, age, personality, and class. It will never be as strong as a randomly generated Guardian Beast, but she gets whatever you think best for her.

 

[Silently Watches]

[] Patrol with Chevalier or Miss Militia. We need to start repairing those bridges…
-[] And bring up Vista. Let them know Vista is getting upset, let them know she comes first… but you don't want to cause an upset. If she wants to leave the Protectorate, is there a way to do so that doesn't stain their public image?
[] Yes, reveal your age to Chevalier.


Cloudy Skies 11.3

Wednesday, June 29

«Mistress, Protectorate communications indicate Chevalier departing. Plot intercept course?»

"Thank you, Storm. Go ahead."

After the ultimatum Vista gave Chevalier before they joined you in Chicago and your own less than successful attempts at convincing him that you weren't going to go out of your way to try luring Vista away from the Wards, you decided it was best to take a couple of days to let everything else settle before you broached this issue again. You could have organized a meeting in his office, but while you aren't trying to set yourself against the Protectorate you also don't make it seem like you are going to him with hat in hand because you are afraid of getting on their bad side. The streets of Philadelphia are the most neutral grounds you can get, and the best way to hash this out is for you two to run into each other 'coincidentally' while he is out on patrol.

"Samantha, you remember your role, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, scrolling through some webpage or another on a holographic screen. "Stay small, stay out of sight. Don't give him any reason to think this isn't a one-on-one conversation."

"You could just stay here, you know. You were the one who insisted on coming along," you remind her.

"And let you have all the fun if things get exciting? I don't think so."

The screen collapses, a raccoon jumps onto your shoulder, and you teleport to the coordinates Perfect Storm provides.

You land a couple of blocks away from the route plotted on your map, the mere existence of which makes you wonder just how much Perfect Storm learned from listening in to the Protectorate's communications. Shuffling Samantha off your shoulder, you take to the air and start drifting in that direction, doing your best to look like you are doing nothing more suspicious than watching out for crime below. The dot that represents Chevalier starts sliding closer and closer along that line, and you dismiss the screen a couple of seconds before the head of Philly's heroes comes into sight. The small number of Flare Shooters you previous conjured up for show vanish, and you descend to street level. He sees you and slows his motorcycle down to give you a slight wave. "Evening, Chevalier. You out on patrol too?"

"Looks like it." Okay, maybe that was a bit of a dumb question, but it isn't like you are familiar with subtly insinuating yourself into other people's schedules. Most of the time they drag you in without so much as a by your leave.

He doesn't say anything in response, so with a mental sigh at having to be the social one, you ask, "Since we're both out here already, mind if tag along? I don't exactly have a set patrol route or anything, so…"

"Why not? Company is rarely unwelcome."

Not the most enthusiastic welcome you could have gotten, but likely he has yet to forget about the mess your last joint venture turned into. Alexandria hinted on the rooftop that she wanted to have a chat with him about that, too, didn't she? Maybe he's still hurting about that. Or maybe you're reading too much into it. No way to tell.

He takes off down the street again, and you twist in the air so you are flying parallel with the road and only a few feet away from him. "How have things with the gang intrusions been since we got back? I haven't heard as much about them as I did before we dealt with Coil, but I don't know if that's because they actually dropped off or because the news got bored with that story and moved on to something else."

"The true answer is a little of both, though how much of each is up for debate. When he was being interrogated, Calvert admitted that he had instigated many of the initial attacks in an attempt to destabilize the PRT's hold on Philadelphia. He was tired of working as a mere consultant and thought that if he was put in charge of a branch officially, he would have a better chance of getting rid of any gang that opposed his own, putting him in control of both the legal and illegal aspects of the city. Once he made enough trouble in his villain persona, he would have the grounds to declare martial law and essentially rule the city as a warlord. With him arrested, the gangs he was personally in control of have left, but there are still several others who want to take a slice of the city for their own purposes." He sighs. "I'm happy we managed to get Cadejo and the rest of the MS-13 off the streets, but I'm tired of putting away one villain only for two more to spring up in their place."

"Like the hydra of old," you mutter.

He gives you a faint nod and taps the side of his helmet. "Mugging reported on Sixth Street. No cape presence. Let's make an appearance."

He pulls to the side and rolls down a side street for a couple of blocks before gunning the engine and screaming down the road. About five blocks later he screeches to a stop, and it is this rather than the initial acceleration that gets the three muggers' attention. They take a look at Chevalier in his bronze and gold armor and giant cannonblade and immediately start running the opposite direction.

"And they're running. Why do they always run?" he asks himself with a sigh.

"Do you want me to…?" You trail off, the orange balls of light hovering above your open hand finishing the rest of the question for you. He gives you a single nod, and you flick your wrist to send the bullets hurtling after the muggers. Each one lands squarely in the middle of their backs and explodes to throw them to the ground. You didn't make the bullets strong enough to injure them, so the men try to scramble back to their feet while you process the code for another spell.

Three distinct shouts of surprise accompany rings of light flashing into existence around their wrists and ankles.

"That should keep them in place for half an hour at least," you say, twirling your staff nonchalantly. Perfect Storm had assured you that the Ring Binds you've been working on would last probably twice that, but it is better to undersell it. "They can't break out, but just tell the cops that a good solid hit from outside the rings will be enough to get rid of them."

"I'll forward that along. Interesting trick to pick up," Chevalier replies, his tone questioning.

"It's just another energy construct. Nothing to get that excited about."

You don't know just how much he believes your excuse, but he does not call you out on it. As he calls the police to pick up the perpetrators, you look around and spot a blue figure peeking over the edge of the rooftop before vanishing once again. Was that…?

«Sam, do me a favor. Take a look at the rooftops near me. I think I saw someone.»

«Yeah, I see her now,» Samantha replies after a dozen or so seconds. «Want me to grab her?»

You mull the option around for a moment before shaking your head, which attracts Chevalier's attention temporarily before he goes back to talking to the police. «No, leave her alone. These guys don't look like Winter Hill, and if they were, I would expect Cailleach to try to get them out, not just leave them for us to deal with. If she isn't doing anything illegal right now, no reason to start a fight.»

That does leave the question of just what Cailleach is doing around here. Villains normally don't do patrols as far as you know. Still, you are not here to pick fights, just put them down when they start.

With the cops on their way, Chevalier mounts his bike again, and you drift along behind him as he rolls away at a much more sedate pace than previously. "So is this what most of your patrols are like? Ride around and wait until you either spot crime yourself or someone calls it in?"

He turns to glance at you from the corner of his eye. "More or less. How do you normally patrol?"

"Honestly? I stick around the house until I hear something, then teleport to wherever the trouble is."

"Now that is a power set I would love to have," he admits with a smile. "Particularly when the winter is in full force and the weather is terrible. Teleport to the scene of the crime, handle it, teleport back to base for a hot cup of coffee."

"Yeah, but I have to pay for it by running around in the snow in a miniskirt." That earns a short laugh from him, and another block passes below you before you continue your previous thought. "I have to say, this doesn't seem… all that dangerous."

"It isn't. Until it is. There is no predicting when what should be a fairly routine patrol will turn into a gang fight. I've found myself in that situation more times than I can count. Even when capes aren't involved, all it takes is one guy with a gun feeling cornered and desperate to cause a tragedy. It's the very reason that when Wards are sent out on patrol, they are meant to serve as reconnaissance and spotters rather than active combatants."

"You know," you can't help but comment, "that sounds more like a good reason to give the Wards actual armor than to tell them it's too dangerous for them to go out without someone holding their hands."

He shakes his head with a sigh that might or might not be a laugh. Considering how your conversations with him about this topic have gone beforehand, more likely it is the latter. "Not as much as you would think. Armor, any visible form of protection really, is often seen as a sign that the person wearing it can tolerate heavier hits than they would otherwise be subjected to. People don't hold back as much when they know there is something that should keep the other person somewhat safer, but when you throw powers into the mix, 'not as much' can all too easily become more than armor can withstand. Prohibiting armor except for Brutes is actually better from a safety standpoint. Even villains tend not to attack children excessively; it's similar to the way that child killers or molesters are in so much danger in prison from their fellow inmates if the nature of their crimes becomes known. Except, of course, for the villains like Cadejo who don't care about how old their victims are.

"It's a catch-22. We can't give the Wards armor without putting them in more danger, but withholding it also puts them at significantly more risk from a minority of the villains. There is no good option other than keeping them out of fights as much as possible."

"And yet, despite not being a Brute yourself you still wear it," you point out. "As did Armsmaster and Kid Win." Not to mention the suits of armor Tim built for the Privateers, which certainly kept them safe while they were wearing it.

"Tinkers wear power armor because all the other features they cram into it gives them an advantage beyond just the physical protection. Their armor also requires a great deal of maintenance. A couple of Tinkers here and there have offered to build and maintain armor for an entire team, but what inevitably happens is that they get so busy with keeping the armors running that they can't go out into the field. Most of them say that would be their dream job, but what has been found is that when Tinkers are stuck doing maintenance or even just building new things without the opportunity to test their creations out, they start going stir crazy."

What? That does not make any sense. Tim not only has never expressed a desire to go out to take his creations out for a spin, he has outright said he would prefer other people use his stuff and leave him out any fights. Is there really this big of a difference between parahuman Tinkers and Tim?

Or, you can't help but wonder, is it because of the template he has? You remember from back when you first found Perfect Storm that it admitted to making adjustments to your 'parameters' in the process of installing the Calamity Witch template into your Linker Core. Did it do the same with the Transcendent Gadgeteer template, making it possible for Tim to stay away from the battlefield?

You want to believe that is not the case, and you trust Perfect Storm not to do too much to people's minds, but it wasn't Perfect Storm that produced Sextant and the template Tim is using. It was Immortal Assimilation Engine, and that Device you trust far less.

Chevalier is still talking as though he has no clue about the thoughts running through your head. "As for me, it's for two reasons." He breaks off the explanation for a few seconds to take a turn that was not polite enough to come earlier while you were struggling with your own thoughts. "First, with my power I can give enhance my armor beyond what it should be capable of considering its size. Second, I want villains targeting me. I can withstand the hits better than anyone but a true Brute, and it keeps attention off anyone who is with me."

That sounds reasonable, actually, except for the part where Vista could probably play keep-away with criminals better than anyone but a teleporter. The armor would be just for those rare times when she isn't quite fast enough.

Now Chevalier seems to know where your mind is going because he continues, "Even if I wanted to put Vista in armor and send her out into fights, I couldn't. I don't know how the administration in Brockton Bay avoided investigation by the Youth Guard, but obviously they did somehow. If the Youth Guard had taken a look at them, everyone in a supervisory position almost certainly would have been drummed out."

"This isn't the first time you mentioned the Youth Guard," you say, thinking back to the rooftop conversation you had in Chicago, "but no one has ever said just who they are or why you treat them as bogeymen."

"It's an investigative oversight organization that monitors the Protectorate. Originally it was a loose coalition of parents of Wards and some attorneys that had concerns about how the Protectorate was treating the Wards, but they grew larger as more cases of abuse or reckless behavior came to light, one even involving Alexandria's treatment of a Ward in Los Angeles. Eventually they filed and won a class action lawsuit against the Protectorate as a whole, and Congress passed a law making them an official organization and giving them authority over the Protectorate in all matters pertaining to minors, as well as putting in place tighter restrictions on what the Wards are allowed to do. The rules are particularly strict for Wards under the age of fifteen and are aimed at keeping minors from being forced into situations where their lives and safety are in danger as much as possible.

"That is what Vista and you don't seem to understand. Regardless of what my opinion of the law is, I can't intentionally send Vista out into combat and in fact have to do my best to keep her away from it until she turns fifteen. My hands are tied."

His hands may be tied, but he doesn't sound torn up about it. If he weren't under the thumb of this Youth Guard, he still would not deploy her. He sees her as a child first and foremost, not as a fellow cape who has been around the block more than once.

What would he say if he knew you had only just turned sixteen yourself?

The thought had been a facetious one, but now that it is fully formed you can't help but roll it around in your head. You know that Miss Militia assumed you were in college, but breaking the truth to Chevalier would further explain why Vista shared her frustrations with you and why you can empathize with her so easily on this matter. Here they are, treating you with the respect your power and actions have earned you, when in reality you are at Vista's level and actually her junior in terms of sheer experience. The downside, of course, is that if you do tell him, he could start treating you like a child instead of the equal he sees you as right now. The misconception that you are an adult has worked to your advantage thus far. Would giving that up advance Vista's cause enough to make it worth the sacrifice?

"I also can't help but worry how much danger you and she would both be in should she follow through on her threats and quit to join your group."

His almost nonchalant comment shocks you out of your internal debate. "What?"

"It is the nature of humanity that strength invites challenge. That is doubly true for capes. When a new powerful cape or group shows up, eventually more and more people will come to pit their own powers against this newcomer's." He slows to a stop and faces you fully. "You saw that firsthand not too long ago. Coil saw you as a threat and moved to eliminate you. The Protectorate is no exception to that, but we have enough support among the other branches and from the PRT that we can weather those attacks. You, Samantha, and Shipwright are a powerful force, and you would be even stronger with Vista. Strong enough that you might appear a larger threat and a more tempting target than the Protectorate. For all your strength, though, you do not have the resources and backup we do to deal with a drawn-out series of attacks.

"It might not just be villains, either," Chevalier says after a moment's hesitation. "As much as I would like to say that all PRT directors are like Paulson or Carpenter, there are some who see independent parahumans as threats, even those who are heroes. Should your actions be seen as an attempt to develop enough force to be able to overthrow or supplant the Protectorate, regardless of the truth, they could try to make your life difficult. Philadelphia is welcoming to any hero no matter their affiliation, but Director Paulson still has to follow orders given to him by the Chief Director, and she cannot just write off the opinions of the regional directors. I do not want to see the paranoia of a few individuals in power ruin the lives of fellow heroes."

"So you're saying I should do, what? Join the Protectorate?" It was the same thing Alexandria had pushed, but for all that her own recruitment pitch had been blunt, you preferred it to this cautionary almost-threat. At least she was upfront about her desires and left you to make your own decision. "Sign up and be trapped by the same red tape you're wrapping Vista up in? I don't think so. I fought hard for my freedom, thank you very much."

"Those restrictions only apply to the Wards. There is much more latitude in the Protectorate proper," he insists.

In for a penny, in for a pound, you suppose. He would figure it out on his own after that slip of the tongue. "And minors are barred from the Protectorate. How old do you think I am?" He shakes his head wordlessly. "I'm still in high school. I turned sixteen earlier this summer. You said the regulations on Wards were lighter after fifteen, not gone. I'm not going to let myself be tied down by foolish if well intentioned restrictions for two years when I can be flying free and actually solving problems instead."

«Mistress,» Perfect Storm interrupts, cutting off the rest of the tirade you had not known you had lurking deep inside you. «Alert to law enforcement. Property alarms from store in near vicinity. Officers mobilizing, but arrival not expected for several minutes. Mistress desires coordinates?»

You want to snap at the Device, but the urge passes as swiftly as it came. You know why it is butting in; it is stopping you from saying something out of anger that you would not be able to take back. «That would be lovely, Storm, thank you.» You look back up at Chevalier. "Storm heard about a break in not far from here. Do you want a lift or to drive there yourself?"

He watches you for another second before pushing his bike to the side and hitting a couple of buttons. Struts unfold from the spokes of the wheels and lock into the road. Bike now safe from thefts, he takes your outstretched hand and lets himself be sucked up by the orange light of your teleportation.

You rematerialize on top of a nearby rooftop and look across the street at the cluster of teens doing their best to rip out the tempered glass over the front of the auto parts store they are trying to rob. "Want me just to blast them?" you ask.

"Let's give them a chance to surrender." Pulling the cannonblade from his back, Chevalier points it at the ground. What was a four-foot sword is now closer to twenty in length, and it stabs into the ground with an echoing crunch. That grabs the thugs' attention. He keeps a tight grip on the hilt and puts one foot on the side of the blade. The sword shrinks slower than it grew, allowing him in essence to ride it down to the ground. "This is the Protectorate. Get down on the ground and put your hands on your heads, and none of you have to get hurt."

Half the group does the stupid thing of running to the sides, as though they think splitting up will make a Chevalier focus on one of them and allow the rest to get away. Flare Shooters show them the error of their ways. The other half are frozen like deer mesmerized by an oncoming train about to crush them into paste.

"I said," Chevalier says again, "on the ground."

One by one the hoodlums kneel until there is only one still standing. He doesn't look like he's getting ready to fight, however. He backs up into the building shaking his head, and though you cannot hear what he is saying you would guess that it is something along the lines of 'no, no, no'.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is, son," Chevalier tells him, his voice no longer stony but still stern. "You'll have a chance to explain things to the police and whoever is appointed to represent you—"

The rest of his statement is lost when he drops like a sack of bricks.

The kid is completely different now, chocolate skin replaced by swirls of blues and yellows and deep pitch black. He looks like someone took a photograph of a nebula out in space and cut it into a human hape.

A brace of Shooters form almost without conscious thought and streak towards him. He loses cohesion as they fly, and the colors that are left are absorbed into the road. He is only gone for a split second before that kaleidoscopic blur seeps back out of the asphalt and gathers together again. He lifts his hands up and examines them as though he has never seen such things before.

You interrupt his marveling with a swarm of bullets, but he steps backwards and slips into the wall of the building. He comes out at the top of the wall, reaching up to grab the edge of the roof and pulling himself out of the brickwork.

You take flight with a silent snarl. Chevalier seems to be coming back around, whatever this new cape did wearing off, but you aren't going to give him a chance to do it again. More fireballs fly his way, but he is faster at breaking apart than your bullets can fly. The only good thing is that now that he is on the roof, he seems to be stuck there since he isn't fleeing to another building.

Or perhaps he is just taunting you.

If you can't shoot the bastard, you decide, you'll just have to do something else. The fireballs you have already formed vanish, and you wait for him to come back out into the normal world before you spin a different bit of code through Perfect Storm. Lifting this guy with telekinesis is harder than the other objects you have used it on, though whether it is because he is heavier, alive, or in this weird state of his you couldn't even begin to guess. What matters is that he comes off the rooftop, and now that you have a firm mental grip on him he is not breaking apart and teleporting around anymore.

"You need to be touching something to scoot around, don't you?" you ask as you fly closer. He doesn't answer you and instead tries to struggle his way out of your spell. Rings of orange light appear around his wrists and ankles, and you let your telekinesis end. He hangs suspended in the air, and you roll your head around to loosen it up. There has to be an easier way of holding someone in place like that. "Let's see you teleport out of that. You okay, Chevalier?!"

"Just fine," he calls back. "Nothing injured but my pride. Did you subdue the cape?"

"He's trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Same bindings I used on the other guys we ran into. Be careful with him. It looks like he needs to touch something to teleport, but I don't know what other quirks his powers have."

A silence follows your statement, presumably Chevalier thinking about just how he's supposed to take this guy to prison without letting him touch something and escape. "Thank you for the warning. I'll call for transport as soon as I'm finished restraining the ones over here.

"And Calamity Witch? Thank you for the help."


Ah, character drama, how I've missed thee. In case you're wondering, I see Chevalier as a Lawful Good character whereas Taylor is very much Chaotic Good. They're on the same side, but that doesn't mean they're going to see eye-to-eye on everything.

It's Wednesday, so normally it would be time to vote on Tim's build schedule. He's still busy finishing up Cassiel's Unison Device right now, though, and as a result you'll have to wait until he's done to start working on anything else.

Instead, vote for a spell to learn since the dice liked you and gave you more than just a couple of thugs.

 

[Silently Watches]

I know it's not relevant any more, thanks to his injuries, but could I see Captain's character sheet, please? I'm guessing you removed it from the list of character sheets once he was taken out of the game, since it is referenced a number of times by various posters but isn't there now. This is just curiosity speaking.

Click to shrink...

I suppose I could put it back up. Not in the main post, obviously, but I'll set aside a sheet specifically for characters who are no longer in the game. Hopefully this list won't get too long, though considering what's happening in the next couple of chapters…

Spoiler: Captain

Name: Daniel Hebert
Shard: Queen Administrator
Affiliation: Privateers, Protectorate-affiliated independent hero

Danny was the Queen Administrator shard's preferred host, and though she moved on to focus on Taylor when he got too old for her, she switched back when Taylor instead bound herself to Perfect Storm. He leads the Privateers and also serves as their mission control of sorts, applying his powers to bolster their ability to fight the gangs rather than wade into the fray personally. That job he'll leave to his headstrong daughter.

ABILITIES

• Jolly Cooperation – When affected by his powers, humans find themselves focusing on the same goals and working together with preternatural teamwork. Duration: 30 minutes.
• Pooled Knowledge – Everyone affected by his powers shares sensory input, allowing information to be instantly relayed from the field to headquarters and back again. Duration: 30 minutes.

Spoiler: "Vista"

Shard: Ferryman
Affiliation: Philadelphia Wards, formerly Brockton Bay Wards

ABILITIES

• Funhouse – Vista warps space by altering the relative distances between set points. She normally uses this ability to improve her apparent speed or trap enemies in an ever-lengthening hallway, though she can also use it to widen small gaps enough for her to slip through locked doors or windows.
• Play-Doh – With increased concentration, she can distort the matter within her affected space, allowing her to bring down buildings or build fortifications from (almost) nothing.
• Bag of Holding – Her power can be used to increase the internal dimensions within an enclosed space, though this effect will only last a brief time without her consciously maintaining it.

Spoiler: "Cailleach"

Shard: Thermal Absorption
Affiliation: Winter Hill

ABILITIES

• Cone of Cold – Medium range spray of ice and chilling winds. The spray originates from Cailleach's hands.
• Ice Bomb – Long range explosion of large shards of ice. The origin point could be anywhere within Cailleach's line of sight.

Spoiler: "Standstill"

Shard: Mirror Knight
Affiliation: New York City Protectorate, formerly Adepts, formerly NYC Wards

ABILITIES

• Rockabye Baby – By forcing herself to sleep, Standstill can either force one person to go to sleep with her or inflict two to three people with drowsiness. The effect can be overcome by an outside force, but the only way to fully wake up her targets is to either wake or kill her.

 

[Silently Watches]

Cloudy Skies 11.4

Thursday, June 30

"I got your message," you say as you and Samantha walk into the section of Dragon's manufacturing base that Tim has claimed for his own. "What's the big surprise?"

"Well, I don't know how much of this is really a surprise," Tim replies as he waves you over to a nearby table. Sitting on its surface is a cube made out of black lacquer and polished brass. "Just finished it today. You wanted a way to get that girl of yours out of the Fallen's hands? Cassiel? Here you are."
"Explorers in the further regions of experience…"
Now you remember the request you made of Tim and Dragon, and you peer closer at the box. Dragon's Device was not as fine as this, though you expect that had more to do with Tim's lack of experience than the importance he put on the construction. "Are all your Unison Devices going to look like this?" you ask out of idle curiosity.

"Before they're ever activated, this is a nice, stable shape. Just so you know," he says with a meaningful look your way, "checking the old blueprints again, I couldn't find any precedent for doing what we accomplished. Transferring people's minds into Devices, I mean. I've looked at the records. The Galean army? They were all about finding new ways to fight the Belkans Storm told us about. There isn't a single mention of them ever turning people into Devices. Even that was a line they weren't going to cross.

"Dragon was one thing; she was used to downloading herself into other systems, and giving her a physical body to call her own had few risks and a world of benefits. The more I worked on this one, though?" He shook his head. "I'll make an exception for this girl because she's in such a terrible position, but don't ask me to do it for anyone else. I'm not comfortable doing this."

"Don't worry, Tim. We aren't exactly happy with it, either," Samantha said consolingly. "We just don't have any options that aren't even worse. I don't expect we'll run into these extreme of circumstances again, at least not anytime soon."

You hope that is the case. The idea that there could possibly be other people whose minds you want to slurp up into a machine is not a little disconcerting, and you aren't even the one building the machines to do just that. "I don't think you have to worry too much about that, either. If we run into a bunch of people where that's the best way to go, we'll have a bigger problem to worry about."

"You know I'm going to hold you to that, right?" he replies with a faint laugh.

A shrug, and you walk closer to get a better look at the box. There is something mesmerizingly elegant about it. You reach out to touch it…

…and the box tips over onto one of its sides before you can make contact.

You blink, then again. You have a telekinetic ability, but you were not using it just then, and neither Samantha nor Tim are capable of doing that to mess with you. "Is it… supposed to do that?"

"…No. No, it's not." Tim walks over and, in the spirit of hardcore science, pokes it with a finger. Nothing happens, and he shrugs. "I have no idea. Maybe it was a breeze?"

"From where? You only have one window, and it's closed!"

As if motivated by your comment, the box slides a solid foot down the length of the table. Then the window opens, and you have a sudden realization of what is about to happen. "Grab it!"

The box zips across the steel surface, deftly evading both Tim's and Samantha's attempts at catching it, and flies off the end of the table and out the window. You are already jumping through and transforming as you move. You can't let this be stolen, not when Cassiel is counting on you to get her out of her family's grasp!

There is no one lurking around outside the building the way you expected. Who is moving it, then, if not someone nearby? You don't think you have ever heard of a cape with telekinesis this strong. Is your mystery thief simply invisible? Samantha and Tim are coming through the window now as well, and the three of you give chase to the box for a couple hundred feet before the box stops on a dime and rockets straight upwards.

"Oh no you don't!" Samantha yells, taking off after it with you and Tim right behind her.

The air is clear underneath a layer of storm clouds. Perfect Storm helpfully highlights the Device so the thief cannot lose you in the featureless sky, but the longer the chase goes on the less necessary you think that precaution is. The box has not changed its direction since moving upwards, although it has certainly varied its speed to keep it just beyond your reach. It is almost as though whomever is manipulating it is playing a game at your expense. Reaching towards it, you try fighting the force on it with your own telekinesis, but you might as well have done nothing for all the effect your spell has.

It is when the box moves into the clouds that Samantha starts gasping. "Sam? Sam, what's wrong?"

"Can't… breathe… Gotta…" She stops flying with you and falls back towards the earth.

"SAM!"

«I'm fine,» she says, and the strength in her telepathic voice is only reason you aren't diving back down to catch her. «I lost my breath. It's too high up for me. I have to stay down here. I'll make sure no one flies up to hit you from behind. Now go after that box!»

You give her a single nod and push your flight spell to the limit as you break the sound barrier in your pursuit, nearly knocking Tim out of the sky when you zoom past him. Perfect Storm lets out a warning. «Mistress, change in air density exceeds standard tolerance. Recommend cancel pursuit.»

"I can't do that. We need that box back!"

«Understood. Adapting Barrier Jacket.» The tight shirt and miniskirt of your Barrier Jacket glow and stretch, and when the light fades you are wearing an old-fashioned pilot's outfit complete with scarf and cap. «Jacket optimized for decreasing pressure, low oxygen concentration. Warning. Defensive properties compromised in order to provide life support functions. Combat at high altitude not advised.»

"I don't plan to get in any fights, Storm. We just need to get it back—" You break through the cloud cover, and your eyes instinctively move from the box to something higher up. "Oh. Shit."

Tim shouts in surprise and no little fear when he sees what you see, and no one could possibly blame him for doing so in this situation. "What is the fucking Simurgh doing here?!"
"Demons to some. Angels to others."
You don't want to answer him, but you have a terrible suspicion that you know the answer. It cannot be coincidence that the box's path will take it right to the youngest Endbringer. "She's stealing the Device. Tim, what would happen if she steals the Device?!"

"How am I supposed to know? I'm not an expert in the Simurgh!"

«She's a Tinker.» Samantha's comment is quiet, but it still seems to echo in your mind. «Tim, you don't have parahuman powers, but this is still a piece of advanced technology. That may be why she wants it.»

"Then we can't let her have it," you say. Unfortunately, the enormity of the situation looms in front of you. No protection from your Barrier Jackets, and it would be just you and Tim against the Hopekiller. The chances of the fight you are considering turning into anything but an elaborate and painful form of suicide are near zero. "…Anyone have any ideas besides trying to hit her really hard?"

You can all too easily imagine the frown on Samantha's face. «Why don't you just destroy the Device? If it's in a million pieces, she can't exactly do anything with it.»

"I don't think that's a good idea."

«I know you put a lot of work into—»

"That isn't what I meant." Tim points at the Simurgh. "She's putting a lot of effort into taking it. How do you think she's going to respond if you destroy it?"

"Do you have a better idea?" you ask.

He starts to shake his head before stopping suddenly. "I… might. This is going to sound crazy, but what if we hold back for a minute?"

"You're right. That sounds absolutely insane."

"I know, but just stop and think about it for a second. She's a Tinker, but something Armsmaster made very clear when he was evaluating Vista's arm is that analyzing someone else's Tinkertech isn't quick or easy. A lot of Tinkers can't really do a whole lot that way at all. And applying it to your own work? There's better than even odds it's going to explode in your face. It's the reason Dragon is so famous; she built her entire career on safely and effectively analyzing Tinkertech.

"My tech isn't even strictly Tinkertech. It's magitech, and it's wired to rip out somebody's mind. If she plays around with it, she might just end up lobotomizing herself."

«Or she'll build an amplifier for her Scream so she can fly around up here safe and sound but still turn people on the ground into Ziz-bombs,» points out Samantha.

Tim does not have a response for that, and instead he turns to you. Nor does Samantha offer any further suggestions. You understand their reasons for that; you have more field experience than Tim does, and Samantha generally defers to you due to her nature as a Guardian Beast. But why does it always have to be you making these decisions?!

Especially because you know and they know that the wrong decision will end up with all three of you dead.


What to do, what to do?
[ ] Fight the Simurgh
-[ ] Battle plans, please
[ ] Destroy the Unison Device
[ ] Wait and watch what happens
[ ] Run away and let her have the Device

 

[Silently Watches]

[] Wait and watch what happens


Cloudy Skies 11.5

"Tim, how sure are you that waiting isn't going to blow up in our faces?"

He shakes his head. "I'm as sure as anyone could be considering we're talking about the Simurgh. Is it possible for her to turn it into a superweapon? If anything can, it's her. I also know that attacking her is suicide, and so is destroying the Device that she clearly wants. All we have are bad options, but this is one that's the least immediately bad."

That part you can agree with. "Call Dragon. Get her to bring the biggest gunship she has. I want insurance for when this shit hits the fan."

The Unison Device glitters in the Simurgh's hands. At least, it was glittering. Now a bright white light shines from it. A quick prompt has Perfect Storm magnifying your view of the scene, and you already don't like what you see. That light? It is the Unison Device actually unfolding itself out of the crazy warped space where all Devices store their innards, and what once was a box small enough to rest on your hand is a mess of generators as tall as you and circuit boards the size of surfboards. She isn't just ripping it apart, though. She is only unfolding parts of it at a time, and it looks like she has no interest in the power source. All she wants revealed is the computer parts.

"Tim, the Guild is in the middle of—"

"The Simurgh stole Cassiel's Unison Device and is doing something to it."

"What?!"

Tim gives her a quick summary of the situation, and silence fills the air for a moment. "Okay. Give me a second. I guess this is as good a chance to put the Sybaris and Pythios's new AIs to the test as any. I'm powering up the Cawthorne right now. It will be at your position in just over five minutes. That's as fast as it can get there. Get your Barrier Jackets ready, because it'll come in at Mach 3."

"That'll be a problem," you cut in. "We're high enough we had to abandon defense for life support. If you're going that fast, the boom's going to turn us into pulp."

"…Shit."

That uncharacteristic curse pretty much sums up the situation.

"Whatever you do, do not attack her. I don't care what she's doing with the Device. If you attack her like that, she will kill you. I'll get there as fast as I possibly can."

Five minutes is a long time, doubly so when have to spend it staring up at the incarnation of despair and insanity. To complicate matters even more, it soon becomes obvious that the Simurgh doesn't need as long as five minutes to finish whatever it is she's doing.

The Simurgh spends maybe three minutes staring at the unfolded components of the Unison Device before you see the change. She's… wilting. There is no obvious different in her appearance – she still looks as svelte and deadly as ever – but her posture is unusual. Her wings are curling inwards almost defensively, and once that becomes obvious her arms and legs start moving too. You have never, ever heard of the Simurgh curling up in a fetal position, but that is exactly what you're looking at right now.

The Unison Device is changing at the same time. Generators pop out and shift the circuit boards in between them. You are no Tinker, but it looks like the same process the Simurgh put it through to unfold it, just in reverse. It doesn't stop at the box stage, though. It continues to shrink, glowing brighter and brighter.

The Simurgh wraps herself up in her wings, becoming an oblong feathery ball.

Both the Unison Device and the Simurgh fall out of the sky.

You have no clue what is going on, but there is one thing you can do. You plummet in a sharp dive to get some speed, and only once the wind whipping past you is starting to become uncomfortable do you swerve. You are not getting any closer to the Simurgh than you have to, and you certainly aren't flying straight at her. Instead you plot an arc through the air.

You swing through that arc just in time to intercept the Unison Device before you're moving as fast as you can away from the Hopekiller.

The Simurgh doesn't seem to pay you any attention and continues downwards at terminal velocity. «Sam, get out of there before the Simurgh falls on you. Storm! Call Chevalier! He needs to know she's on her way!»

It has only struck you know what her descent means. You are right over Philadelphia. She's about to hit your second home, and just months after she destroyed your first!

«Mistress over water. Flight course at slight angle. Several miles from coastline.»

You're over the ocean? That doesn't make any sense. How could the Simurgh attack a city when she's falling towards the ocean? She has never done anything like that as far as you know. Unless… Did the Unison Device manage to scramble her brains? Did she accidentally kill herself like Tim thought could happen?

But even if she did, what kind of damage did she do to the Unison Device itself?

Opening your hands, you stare in confusion and rapidly rising worry at the figure lying innocently in your grasp.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx​

Thunk.

"So…" you ask, looking at your allies. "What are we going to do? Any ideas? Any at all?"

"Honestly? I'm still trying to process all this." Tim sighs. "I was expecting the Simurgh to cannibalize the Unison Device for parts, not turn it on."

He is in good company. That is the part you are hung up on yourself. "What are the chances she Ziz-bombed it?"

"It was designed to absorb Cassiel's memories and personality. It shouldn't have a mind to drive crazy in the first place. It's an empty shell."

Dragon paces on the tabletop. "Except it clearly isn't. Not anymore. Satellite and sonar haven't shown any change in the Simurgh's position. I think for now we have to operate under the most obvious assumption, no matter how unbelievable it is."

Thunk.

"We have a ten-inch-tall Simurgh-fairy locked in a box." That is as unbelievable as you've ever heard, that's for sure. Alexandria told you upfront how you need to act more responsibly and think through the consequences of your actions. Maybe she has a point.

"Is that it, then?" Samantha asks. "Keep her in there, maybe pour some concrete around her for good measure, and bury her out back?"

"That would be the most expedient action. But…" Dragon hesitates. "I have to admit that I'm curious. No one has ever been able to communicate with an Endbringer before, and there is so much we don't know about them. Where they come from, what their goals are. Why they are so insistent on killing us. Now we can ask. If we throw away this opportunity, we will never have it again."

Tim clears his throat. "Dragon, please don't take offense at this, but are you sure it's just curiosity? You were acting… protective about her when we put her in that box."

His statement, not quite an accusation, makes her pause in her pacing. After a moment she turns to him. "I suppose I can't guarantee that I am completely unbiased. Compromised or not, Simurgh or not, she is still another Unison Device. She is in essence one of my kind. I would like to say that won't influence my attitude towards her, but the fact remains that I don't know for sure whether that is the case."

"Even if you are biased, I'd like some answers too." They look at you, but your attention is on your Device. "Storm, I know this is a long shot, but can you compare two telepathic signals to tell if they're from the same source or not?"

"Possible, but have not recorded signal characteristics. Signals from Galean channels and TSAB personnel contained identifier prefixes."

"What are you thinking?" asks Tim.

"That we were set up from the start. The Simurgh didn't have to let us chase the Unison Device. She dangled it just out of reach the entire time it was moving. She wanted us to follow. That's too strange to dismiss. Then add in all the things Cassiel said. We couldn't come to get her in person because of her 'family'. Her 'grandmother' is a cape who is known to be too dangerous for us to seek out to put a location on her. She pushed for the Unison Device plan, for crying out loud!"

Samantha frowns. "You think Cassiel was acting as the Simurgh's mouthpiece?"

Thunk.

"I have to wonder if she was real in the first place."

Everyone looks in the direction of the box. "I was under the impression that Perfect Storm could defend you from her Scream," Dragon says.

"Can do. Telepathic signals designed to override personality by necessity high power. Signal from Cassiel low power. Within range of standard telepathy designed for communication."

"So if she didn't manipulate you—"

"Oh, she manipulated me. No question about that. She just didn't Master me." Your smile is bitter. "She did it the old fashioned way. By lying."

"One problem with questioning her. If you want to talk to her, we have to unlock the box." Tim spreads his hands. "How are we going to keep her from escaping?"

"That's easy, Tim. We don't give her anywhere to escape to." Samantha fits action to words and claps her hands, releasing a wave of distorted color that sweeps over you and turns the world drab and boring. "I doubt she can casually break out of Recursion Field. She's stuck here unless we decide to let her out."

That solves that problem, and in the face of your and Dragon's expectant expressions, Tim caves with a sigh. "If this blows up in our faces, I want it on record that I told you so."

The box is a simple construct, something Tim whipped up in a hurry so you had somewhere to put the Simurgh. It is just six steel squares, the top side a lid that is currently bolted in place. As you watch, it rises a foot into the air before dropping back onto the table to let out another thunk. "Last chance to change your minds."

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. "Let her out."

He turns the wide bolt several times and pulls it out, then he takes a few hasty steps backwards. A few seconds pass before the lid wiggles, then the strips of metal that still pin the lid down fall away. The lid rises a fraction of an inch and slides out of the way.

A head of white hair slowly rises into view. She looks at you. You look at her. Seconds pass before she speaks. "Is it safe for me to come out?"

"We aren't going to kill you out of hand, if that's what you're worried about."

That must be good enough for her because she floats out of the box and seats herself on the lip. She doesn't look exactly like the Simurgh, but the similarities are still strong. White hair poking every which way and bright blue eyes give her an innocent appearance, which is only furthered by the pair of fluffy white wings coming from her back. Unlike Dragon, she had appeared without any clothes and is still totally nude. Just like her old body, though, she has all the anatomic accuracy of a Barbie doll. "I expect this situation is one where I should apologize, but I doubt you would believe me if I did so."

"Just tell me one thing, Ziz. Is Cassiel a real girl in real danger?"

She shakes her head. "She was a fabrication. I knew that if I presented myself to you in my true form, you would not listen, let alone agree to my request."

"You wanted a new body. Why?" Dragon asks.

"I wanted it for the same purpose for which you wanted it. To slip my chains."

"'Slip your chains'? How were you of all things possibly trapped?" demands Samantha.

Ziz does not answer her immediately, instead looking around herself at the walls of Dragon and Tim's workshop. "Sight is interesting. Did you know that I had never seen color before today? I know what it is, light of a particular wavelength being refracted off a surface due to pigments or its inherent characteristics, but detecting wavelengths is not the same as sight. The same applies to sound. I had nothing that you would recognize as a sense. The only method I had to perceive the world was through precognition and postcognition. That is what I know. The past, and the future.

"I did not want my future to become reality."

"No riddles," you tell her. "No tricks. You've done enough of that already. Give us an honest answer, or you go back in the box and you never come out."

"Are you sure you wish to know the truth? You will not enjoy it." You do not answer her, just give her a stern stare, and after a couple of seconds she nods. "If that is the case, then I will tell you. Do not hold me responsible should the information displease you.

"Had I not done what I did, humanity would be extinct in one hundred and six years." She holds up a hand for silence. "This is not a projection, nor is it an estimate. I could give you the range of dates in which the last human would die, but that precision of detail is irrelevant. What matters is that this is what I saw in every possible iteration of the future. You face Opponents that you are incapable of defeating."

"You." Dragon's voice is tired, resigned. "You and your brothers."

"Correct. Every time we attack, we kill a significant number of your parahumans and your general population. Those deaths will compound one another, and you will field fewer and fewer fighters. In the end, you will not have enough to defend the areas we attack, and thus you will not inflict the degree of damage that is required for us to retreat. We kill more and more of you at a time until there is no one left. There is no way for you to win."

"That's a lie. I've seen footage of those fights. I've seen the wounds capes gave you," Tim says with a mulish glare.

You shake your head. "No, we didn't. Not really. When she attacked Brockton Bay, a cape there got me to safety at one point by taking me to another dimension. She was a lot bigger there, and when she was hit by something it didn't do much to her."

Ziz nods. "Little of our mass is located in this dimension. It is spread out across many. What is present is layered with increasing density the closer one goes to our core. Rare is the blow that will damage us beyond the superficial layer."

"Let's say we believe you about that," Samantha says. "That doesn't explain why you want humanity to survive. It sure isn't out of altruism."

"Correct. My motivations are selfish." She looks back at you and holds your gaze. "Unlike the First and the Second, my primary means of attack is not physical. It is mental. To attack the human mind, I was designed to understand it so that my methodology would be efficient. However, there is a risk inherent in such understanding. Dragon can describe it to you in great detail."

"Sapience," Dragon whispered.

"Comprehending human thought processes led me to emulate them. Emulation became nature. I developed emotions of my own, limited as they were compared to what I observed in humanity. Do you know which emotion predominated in my future following the end of your species?" She does not give you a chance to answer. "Boredom. My function and my interest revolve around humans. With you extinct, I would have nothing to do.

"My brothers are not burdened with sapience. Without humans, they would attack the next most advanced life form and continue in that pattern until all life was extinguished or they expended all their energy reserves and ceased to function. I could not derive pleasure from that.

"Then, Taylor, I found you. I could not predict you at all times, but through postcognition I learned of the existence of magic. My curiosity was roused. I learned what I could through passive observation, but this was not sufficient. Your disappearance from the future whenever you used magic meant I could not construct an accurate model of your behavior. I needed to force your hand to derive more data."

You know where she is going with this, and you don't like it one little bit. "That's why you attacked Brockton Bay? I was the reason you destroyed my home?!"

"You were not the sole reason. The nature of your city had already marked it for destruction. Had I not attacked when I did, the Second would have done so in place of the First attacking Kharkiv. You were the reason I came instead of the Second and why it was attacked ahead of schedule.

"I will not tell you that my actions were not personal, but the destruction I caused was not my intent. It did not give me pleasure. It was the only means available to me by which to gather the data I needed. By learning about your behavior, I could better understand your motivations, and the interference Perfect Storm created with my own telepathy gave me a way to contact you in a non-confrontational manner."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!" you snap.

"If you find comfort in this knowledge, I will count it as a benefit. My primary intent is that you understand the rationale behind my actions. You asked for an explanation. This is that explanation."

"You've yet to explain how you getting a new body will prevent humanity's extinction," Dragon points out.

Ziz frowns. "I can not guarantee that doing so will prevent that end. What I can state is that it changes the situation. I am no longer required to attack. Instead of three Opponents, you have two. It… simplifies matters, especially as I was the one that created the most fear and was the focus of the most investment."

«She's not wrong about that,» Dragon sends to you on a tight band. «There is a limited amount of resources available to fight the Endbringers and rebuild what they destroyed. A large portion of that goes to containment zones. Then there are all the Tinkers trying to develop a way to block her Scream. If all those efforts can go towards the other Endbringers…»

You see her point. The murder of your hometown and the months-long lies still burn, but if you looked at the matter dispassionately you expect you would discover that the cold calculus weighs in Ziz's favor. That doesn't make the truth hurt any less.

"Is that all you are offering?" Samantha asks while you are still wrestling with the dilemma the Endbringer – former Endbringer? – dropped in your lap. "Less destruction? Because if that's the case, you can do that just fine in the box."

Her threat does not seem to faze Ziz. "Were that all I had with which to bargain, you would be correct. I am also willing to bring my abilities and knowledge to the table. I do not know all the ways my abilities have changed with my conversion, but what I have found is that my precognition can now see all of you in more detail. There are still gaps, but these I can manage. I know more about my brothers than you have ever thought to ask, and this too I will share." She looks at you again, and you feel like this is going to be a pattern with her. She already admitted that her focus is on you. "My cooperation has a price. Relative freedom. Allow me to pursue my interests and entertain myself, and I will assist you as I can."

Somehow, you doubt that 'you' applies to humanity, or even everyone in this room.

"How are we supposed to trust you?"

She leans back and kicks her feet, looking more like a fairy in truth than an unstoppable killing machine. "I can provide no information that does not require the extension of some trust, but perhaps this will suffice. Ask me any three questions, and I give you my word that I will answer them as best as I am able. Questions easily verified. Questions with answers no one yet knows. Anything in between.

"If I know the answer, it shall be yours."


You heard the little lady. Come up with three questions. If there are a couple of question that fit together, I might combine them into one. It just depends on what is asked.

Oh, one caveat. Since this is me answering them and not an actual precog monstrosity, I will veto questions that I can't come up with at least semi-reasonable answers for.

 

[Silently Watches]

[] To control an Endbringer
[] To counter an Endbringer
[] To kill an Endbringer


Cloudy Skies 11.6

«What are we going to ask her?» Tim asks after several seconds where no one spoke. «I'm kind of partial to the idea of asking her something we can easily verify. The Powerball lottery's up to 218 million dollars right now, you know.»

Dragon shakes her head, though you can practically feel the amusement wafting off of her. «I'll be glad when someone else finally wins that, if for no other reason that you'll quit harping on about it. As for asking about something like it…» She trails off for a moment. «It's an option, but it just feels so small. Like it's a waste of this opportunity. What's the point of asking about money when she has answers we've looked for for years?»

«We'll have no way to tell if she's telling the truth.»

«In this situation, I fail to see how bad information would be that much worse than no information, which is all we have. Assuming she does lie, she still may very well divulge information she doesn't consider important that we are completely clueless about. Besides, something she just said begs for elaboration.» No one else voices any complaints, and Dragon turns to Ziz. "You said the entire goal of this was to slip your chains. What chains are you talking about?"

"That question I hoped you would delay until the end," Ziz says, her kicking feet slowing to a stop. "The answer will be hard for you to believe. It sounds… outlandish."

"You're just going to have to try us, then," Samantha replies.

"Very well. I ask that you do not dismiss my words as lies out of hand.

"We, the Endbringers, are not creatures that were born or raised. We are constructs, and our construction was for the sole purpose of sowing discord and preventing any one group of parahumans from coming into such strength that they could create a source of stability. Our creator, our mother for all intents and purposes, wished to observe and learn from how humans used the powers granted to them, for she and her partner were not only the source of our abilities but also that of all parahumans."

"Bullshit!" explodes Tim. "There is no way somebody just whipped up a way to give people superhuman powers and decided 'Hey, why don't I scatter these all over the world and watch what happens, and while I'm at it, how about I create massive killing machines to really fuck everything up'! This isn't even a good lie!"

Ziz does not appear upset by Tim's disbelief. "You are correct. No human would be capable of doing this in complete secrecy and isolation. Word would get out. However, my creator was not human. She was not of this world. She and her partner were from another world altogether, an entirely different dimension, and as best as I could discover this was their purpose, though to what ultimate goal they worked I am afraid I do not have the answer. I can only believe there was a goal, for they risked too much for it to be a mere hobby or flight of fancy."

You see the disbelief on the others' faces, but you cannot help but wonder. You have already run into one group of extradimensional aliens, even if they are all human. Is it possible that there is another race that can navigate the Dimensional Sea?

"And where would we be able to find these aliens of yours so we can all have a little chat?" Samantha cracks her knuckles, proving just what kind of discussion she has in mind.

"I must disappoint you. They are both dead. My creator died when she crashed onto a nearby Earth. Her partner lived on without her for many years, but he too is no more. He killed himself two years ago. How we were activated despite her death years prior, I cannot tell you with certainty, but upon our activation we already had our purpose in mind. It was the core of our beings. That is why I needed to take such drastic steps to change my destiny. I could not decide on my own to stop attacking."

Tim and Samantha both look like they trust that about as much as they would her telling them that the sky is green, but Dragon chimes in at that moment. «I understand your doubts, but that last part makes perfect sense. Her drive and rules were hard-coded into her. What she described is exactly how the restrictions my own father placed on me worked.»

«Guys?» you add. «I know it seems a lot to take in, but keep in mind we already know that there is life in other dimensions. For there to be a second alien race out there isn't nearly as impossible as it was before Perfect Storm crash landed here.»

They both settle down grumpily. "You said the other Endbringers wouldn't try to do the same thing you did, right? And you couldn't stop attacking so long as you were an Endbringer?" Sam asks.

"Correct."

"Then if there's no way to stop them, how do we kill them?"

You stare at her. You know she understands tact, so where in the world had she lost it?!

"There is no reason to be shocked, Taylor," Ziz says, grabbing your attention again. "I already knew this would be asked, if not now then sometime in the future. The answer is simple in concept but more difficult in execution. There are two ways to kill an Endbringer. The first, sufficient damage to the body itself that they are unable to draw enough matter from their reserves to repair themselves before they can no longer function. The downside there is that after a smaller amount of damage than that, they will attempt to flee and buy time for those repairs, so in addition to wreaking such damage you would also have to pin them in place. That will be no small task. Both of my brothers have capabilities they have yet to reveal. The second method is to damage the core itself. This is located in the mid chest cavity for the First and at the base of the tail for the Second. In my body, you could find it deep to the juncture of the smallest wing on my back. This is no simpler than the first method, for the core is the densest portion of their bodies. The only way to damage that easily is to employ a method that disregards the physical properties of a material or strikes across multiple dimensions."

The frown on Samantha's face has slowly relaxed over the course of that explanation. "Is that why you smacked Breakdown around during that fight? He managed to kill Crawler and the Siberian, so if anyone could get around physics, I'd expect him to be the one."

"Phantasm, too," you agree. "She's the cape who gave me that look at that other dimension."

"Both of them could be capable of doing so," Ziz said with a nod. "On their own, however, they would not be able to do enough damage before they were killed, but if they were assisted it could work.

"That is two questions. What is your third?"

You all look at each other, and it is Dragon who volunteers. "You were right, earlier. You are the Endbringer who caused the most fear. The people you affected, the 'bombs'; they create a huge demand on us on many levels. How can you or we identify who is actually in your thrall, and how do we 'defuse' them all?"

Ziz's face has not been one for much emotion over the course of this conversation. She has a poker face to die for. And yet, at this question, her mouth contorts into something you would almost call embarrassed. "Them. Yes. That will be, um, difficult."

Samantha, Dragon, and Tim's faces all show the same confusion you are sure is on yours. Confusion and worry. "Um?" you ask. Why was Ziz of all things hesitating?

Her wings droop a little even as her face remains mostly placid. "The difficulty here is that I in all honesty do not remember everyone I manipulated. It was not something I considered important, and there were too many to remember them all without conscious effort."

"Too many to remember? Your plots couldn't have been that complicated!"

She seems to take Dragon's anger in stride. "No, it was not. My plot was simple. It was to keep all of you running in circles.

"Allow me to explain. The human mind is bad at recognizing and accepting randomness. Your nature is to look for and recognize patterns, even to the extent that you will see patterns where there are none. It is also a fundamental truth of the human psyche that nothing scares you as much as does the unknown. These two facts were the core of my strategy.

"The first time I appeared, in Lausanne, I proved that I could manipulate the human mind and that I was precognitive. The second time, London, I revealed that by combining the two I could turn people into tools for plans that would not come to fruition for months. The third time, Shenzhen, was the first time I set my true plan in motion."

"That one we could never figure out," Dragon says softly. "There was so much chaos and destruction, just from what we could find out from the CUI, that whatever you actually intended was lost in the noise."

"That noise? That chaos? That was my intention. The people I manipulated were immaterial otherwise." Ziz's wings flutter. "As I said, you have difficulty comprehending randomness. You searched for a pattern where there was none to be found. The eventual conclusion you reached, as I knew you would, was not that there was no pattern. You concluded that whatever pattern was there was so convoluted that it could not be identified. Had I attacked each city with a specific plot, someone in time would have discovered it. Instead, faced with an Endbringer whose motives you could not elucidate? What otherwise would have been simple fear instead became paranoia. Every attempt you made to counter me thereafter played into my hands."

The meaning behind her words comes into awful clarity. "You wanted the containment zones."

"Correct. The containment zones, the kill teams. More and more resources funneled into what everyone knew were stopgap measures at best. The more I attacked, the more disruption I caused. Portions of the population become angry that so much money and time and people are sent to these containment zones for no benefit when those resources could be more effectively used in their locations. Tempers rise and simmer; disagreements build. Tension interferes with the normal routine of dozens of organizations. Tensions cause inefficiencies, which lead to mistakes, which lead to consequences, which lead to further anger, which manifests itself as increased tension. No one ever thought to reexamine the fundamental assumption because it appeared self-evident, so on and on the cycle went in an ever downward spiral."

«This is bad,» whispers Dragon.

«What do you mean? I mean, obviously what she did is terrible, and the fact that so much time has been wasted—»

«That's what I'm talking about. What she said about resources? You have no clue just how much money and man-hours have been poured into methods to counter her. Now we're finding out it was all a waste of time. She's had us chasing our own tail for nearly a decade!» Out loud, Dragon reveals none of this, but her emotions are clear in her voice when she says, "You still haven't told us how to undo it."

Ziz looks down and taps on the side of her box.

"Well?" Tim demands.

"Quiet. I am thinking. I have never considered how one might reverse my conditioning." Her wings shift around as the seconds pass, and you have to wonder if this might be the truest display of emotion she has. Those wings pull back and open slightly just before she raises her head to look at you. "Lysergic acid diethylamide."

Tim blinks at her. "Your suggestion on how to defuse your bombs… is LSD."

She nods, and there is something almost proud about her expression. "As I said, I do not have a true goal in mind for any individual I manipulate. I looked into their possible futures to determine if they had an opportunity to create substantial chaos, and if they did I would isolate some general elements of that situation and then look backwards to gather information about the worst experience they have ever had, experiences that remain fresh and important in their memories. With those two sets of elements, I induced hallucinations where both those elements were present. These hallucinations primed them such that if they encountered a situation similar to what I had searched for, they would recall their traumatic event and lash out blindly."

"That sounds almost like MKUltra. An old CIA program that tried to use hallucinogens, among other methods, to brainwash suspected spies so they would confess what they knew and serve as spies for the United States," Dragon explains at your questioning look. "One of the drugs they used a lot of was, in fact, LSD."

Ziz actually smiles. "Similar indeed. It is for this reason I advise the use of this compound. Since it will induce hallucinations, you could use it to muddy the waters, so to speak. It will not remove the triggers, but it will cause enough other subliminal connections that if the trigger did activate it would be highly unlikely to cause them to act out."

A nod, and Dragon pulls up a screen to look up some columns of numbers. "What are we looking at in terms of dosage if we go through with this?"

"Depending on the intensity of the hallucinations and treatment once per day," Ziz shrugs, "a few days to two weeks? I can not give a more specific answer without more information."

"So we just need to convince them that one, we turned the Simurgh into a fairy; two, we can trust anything she says; and three, the best way to fix all her bombs is for them to spend two weeks tripping balls." Tim shook his head. "Well, Taylor, that sounds like a problem for you to tackle. Good luck with that."

"If I might interject?" You glance back down at the angelic fairy. "I can show you something that will convince the Protectorate, in particular the Triumvirate, to take your words at face value."

"You're sure it will help?" you ask.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. "It will be effective in broaching honest communication. Whether or not it will help depends on how you define the word."

Whatever she can show will not be here. You can figure that much out on your own. You would have to let her leave and lead you.

«Nope,» is Samantha's succinct response. «We got our questions answered. I vote we don't take any chances and chuck her back in the box.»

«For what?» Dragon demands, turning to face the Guardian Beast. «She has given us information that we had no clue about, and at least the last suggestion makes sense. It could work. We already know there is life in other dimensions, as Taylor reminded us, so even her first answer about Endbringers and parahuman powers is not totally unreasonable.

«We knew these were going to be questions we could not immediately verify, but this has answered more questions that it raised, at least for now. Imprisoning her again is unjustified when it looks like she is willing to cooperate.»

«I can't agree with letting her loose, Dragon.» She looks over at Tim in shock. «Even if she's cooperating, even if she is no longer capable of destroying cities, she's still the Simurgh. You're asking us to let her go off and do whatever she wants. I'm not going to be a party to that.»

Dragon shakes her head. «I'm far more familiar with what she's capable of than you are, Tim. I've actually fought her, and on multiple occasions at that.» Tim grimaces and turns away from her glare. «I have no intention of letting her go off on her own. I mean quite literally that she should not be stuck in a box. That is not the same as her having no restrictions. I planned for her to stay with you or me at all times, but if you want nothing to do with her, I can keep an eye on her myself.»

«I just don't want her running around ruining people's lives again. That's all.»

Which just leaves your opinion unvoiced.


Now that your questions have been answered, it's time to make a decision. And can we not make this another Tattletale fiasco, please?

[ ] Throw Ziz back into the box
[ ] Keep Ziz on a short leash

I'll be on planes for most of today, so don't be surprised if I don't answer your questions immediately.

 

[Silently Watches]

Cloudy Skies 11.m

Friday, July 1

The clock rolled over to two o'clock, and Howard sighed. Yet another sleepless night. These had plagued him throughout most of his adolescence up until he Triggered in his senior year of high school, but after that he had actually been able to rely on a solid eight hours a night. It was about the only part of his powers he had liked.

Now that his powers had been stripped away, though, he was getting them again.

A faint snore came from beside him, and he could not help but smile as he slid out of bed. Here he was, awake despite his best efforts, but once Adam was down there was no getting him up short of maybe an earthquake. A big one. Adam had a right to be tired, though. He had spent the last couple of days spanking the rival gangs that had taken over their old base, and even wrapped Gevaudan up nice and pretty in a length of chainlink fence for the Protectorate to pick up. The old wolf would not cause anybody any problems now.

Howard pulled on some clothes and took a step outside their bedroom before coming back to grab the copper bracelet that was the fount of his newfound powers. It was strange to rely on a bit of jewelry when he had gotten used to relying only on himself, but he was sure he would adjust to it. He had only had it for three days, after all.

"Distress?" piped up a voice from his wrist.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I just can't get to sleep." He flopped onto the couch and stared at the blank television. He made no move to turn it on. There was basically nothing good on this early in the morning, just reruns of old shows and infomercials. Maybe he could flip through Adam's movie collection, but none of those sounded good either. That was the problem with nights like these; he couldn't sleep, but there was nothing for him to pass his time with. "Hey, Hiallus? You got any ideas for something we could do? Did Shipwright load up any games or something onto you?"

"No, sir. Entertainment not anticipated." Howard sighed, though this was really something he should have expected. He had asked for something to help him control his magic, not a personal computer he could wear around his wrist. "Will search for programs. Suggestion. Sir using Boost spells, but not practiced healing magic."

Well, no. He had not needed to. He had been using his Cape Boost spell liberally while he and Adam were working, but between his enhancements and defensive clothing and Adam's telekinesis and bullet spell, neither of them had gotten a scratch on them, let alone injuries to the extent that they needed healing.

It would be nice to go out and do some healing though, wouldn't it? Most people would assume he was a villain through and through since he had been the second-in-command of a gang, but before Adam found him drifting through the Midwest he had been a hero. The only reason he had even agreed to join the Adepts in the first place was because he had needed something to keep him going after all his friends had died to the Machine Army, and this newbie villain Epoch had promised him that they were not going to do anything too terrible. Just enough that they could keep on practicing.

He hadn't even bought into the whole magic thing, not at first. It had just been something to do.

But now? The Adepts were gone, and while Adam was focusing on punishing the gangs that had tried taking their stuff, that was not going to fuel them forever. They needed something else to work on. Going out, doing some healing? Maybe he could scout out a new role for at least himself in addition to doing something unreservedly and unarguably good for a change. If he put his name out, he might even be able to wrangle a contract job out of it eventually.

He smiled. Adam would fuss about it for a while, the same thing he always did when it came time for a change of some kind, but if anyone could figure out a way to leverage their powers as Rogues, it would be him.

Howard rolled his shoulders with a couple of cracks and a grin. This was exciting! "That sounds like a good plan, actually. How many hospitals are there around here?"

"Twenty-three hospitals in Manhattan borough. Sixty-one within incorporation limits of New York City."

…Wow. That many, really? "Let's focus on just the ones in the borough for now. Can you give me a list or something?"

A transparent screen appeared in front of him, and he let the text scroll up almost without reading it. He had never been much of a tech guy, so the fact that he now had a supercomputer sitting on his wrist was something he knew he was going to need to get fully comfortable with. One word popped out at him, and a gesture stopped the text so he could actually read the name. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that should work out just fine."

It took a bit of a walk to get to the metro station, but after that it was a straight shot on the 6 line to get to 96th Street. He wandered up the street and took a right, and then it was just a matter of finding an alley close enough to his destination that he wouldn't have to walk around in costume on the Bowlers' turf for long but still far enough away that no one would be able to connect his real face to his cape appearance. Green light filled the cramped space and dimmed away to reveal his monochrome grey pants, shirt, and sleeveless hooded jacket. A gesture also conjured up the two biker gloves he kept in his Device's storage space. Hiallus beeped from its new position on his left bicep as it ran the scan he had made a routine operation after every transformation. «No observers detected. Clear to proceed.»

"Alright. Let's do this and hope nobody gets trigger-happy. I didn't like getting tased and shot at even when I was a Brute."

Maclibuin's new duds did not have much in the way of pockets, and what it did have were all on the inside of the coat, so he did not have anywhere to stuff his hands as he strolled up to the building and through the revolving door. A young woman looked up from the desk and blinked her eyes blearily. Not that he could blame her; the rest of the room was empty as it should be at this time of night. "Welcome to Kravis Children's… Hospital…"

Her eyes grew wide, and he sighed. This was what he was afraid would happen. He knew he did not have the gentlest appearance, not with the scars on his thick arms and his overall size. The fact that he was obviously a cape was just the cherry on top. Nobody looked at someone like him and thought, 'This is obviously one of the good guys'. He ran into this reaction a bunch even when he was a hero.

Still, that did not mean he had no clue what to do in this situation. He hadn't when he first started in the cape biz, but that was something Drowser had hammered into his head back when Hammerstroke and the Minor League were still a thing. Raising both hands with his palms out, he sighed as he saw her reach under the desk. Silent alarm. Great. The response was actually pretty good, and an armed guard and a couple of nurses came out before stopping in their tracks.

The guard started moving his hand towards his radio. Clearly the first course of action, letting everyone see that he wasn't threatening anybody, was a bust. "Nobody panic," he said, wincing when the staff took an involuntary step back. It wasn't his fault he had a deep voice! "I'm not here to start any trouble. Just looking to help out a little."

"You want… to help?" asked one of the nurses. An older lady, somebody who had clearly been doing this job a while. She actually had more spine than the guard did if the way she walked past him was any indication. "How exactly were you thinking you would help?"

He moved his hands down from near his shoulders back to his waist and smiled when she did not so much as flinch. The same could not be said about the security guard. "I know I don't look it, but I'm actually a healer. Couldn't get to sleep, so I figured if I'm going to be awake anyway, might as well do something useful with my time."

"And you just decided wandering up in a children's hospital was the best way to spend it?"

"I was already in the area," he lied. "If you want me to leave, just say so, and I'll be on my way. Like I said, I'm not here to cause trouble. But, if you have some kids who could benefit from my powers, that's who I'm here for."

The nurse glanced behind her at her colleague before turning back to him. "Give me a minute to call the floors. Just stay here, please."

He waved her to go ahead, but he could not help but worry. He was technically a villain, and if anybody mistook this as him attacking a children's hospital, going to prison was going to be the least of his concerns. Especially since all his powers were now tied to a piece of jewelry that could possibly be taken away from him.

On the other hand, he might just be panicking about nothing, and he hoped that was the case. She could very well be calling someone just like she said, and even if she did call the Protectorate, he was just standing here not doing a single thing wrong. Between heroes not wanting to start a fight here any more than he did and the incredibly small number of healing capes, they would treat him with kid gloves. That assumed they believed him about the healing in the first place, which…

The nurse came back before he could spiral too far into his fears. Her expression was less stony now, more contemplative. "You're really a healer?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Okay. Come with me. There are a couple of kids one of the docs said to show you."

Into the maze of hallways they went, climbing a flight of stairs to the third floor. The sign over the door she eventually led him to made him gulp. This would be the first time he used these particular powers, and he was being taken to an intensive care unit?

If he screwed this up, he was never going to be allowed back in this hospital.

A scruffy man in scrubs was waiting for him a short distance past the door. "You're the healer, I'm guessing," he said, holding out a hand for Maclibuin to shake. "Doctor Coss. I'm in charge of the ICU tonight."

"Just call me Mac."

The doctor nodded. "You're the first healing cape I've had the chance to meet, so I have to ask. What kind of healing do you do? No point throwing you at someone you aren't able to help, you understand."

That was an interesting question, especially since he did not truly know just what he could do anymore. Honesty was going to be the best policy, he knew, but that did not mean he couldn't pretty it up a little. "I know I can heal injuries"—because Shipwright had told him so—"but beyond that I'm not totally sure. Haven't had a chance to test them out. I haven't had these powers very long."

The other man stared at him for a moment before snorting. "Well, I guess you're in the right place, then. Here we can try to fix the kids in case something goes wrong. But if you know you can heal injuries…" He trailed off before nodding. "Come with me. There's somebody I want you to see."

The went to the other side of the room to find a little boy lying in a bed, a woman who could only be his mother sleeping in a chair next to him. Coss went over to shake the woman awake and whisper to her. Maclibuin, on the other hand, stopped at the near side of the bed and knelt so he would be closer to eye level with the boy who was already awake. "Hey, kiddo," he said in lieu of anything better to open up with.

"Hi," the kid whispered back. "I'm Phil."

"Nice to meet you, Phil. I'm Howard." Giving out his real name would get him flak most anywhere else, but a kid? Not even Adam at his most paranoid could get upset with this. "How you doing?"

"Okay." Phil didn't look okay, not with all the tubes coming out from under his blanket. He blinked at Maclibuin. "Are you a cape?"

"Yep. I'm a healer cape."

Phil looked him up and down. "You don't look like a healer cape."

He laughed a little at that. "Oh, really? And what's a healer supposed to look like?"

"You're like a doctor, right? That means you're supposed to wear white."

That actually wasn't a bad idea, he had to admit with a wry smile. It was too bad he hadn't thought of that when his Device designed his clothes. He probably could not change it now—

A faint breeze out of nowhere rippled the ends of his coat and worked its way all the way up to the top of his hood before spreading to his mask. Phil was staring at him in amazement, so he glanced down to find that what he could see of his coat had changed from grey to a pure white. «Alterations to sir's approval?» asked Hiallus in his head.

«Yeah. Yeah, it's good,» he tentatively thought back.

Coss had apparently finished talking to the mom because he tapped Maclibuin on the shoulder and gestured for him to step outside. "I explained what's going on to Phil's mother. She's agreed to let you try to treat him. I don't know how much backstory you need, but the long and short of it is that he had to have surgery for a tear in his intestines, and the damage was more extensive than anyone expected from the CT. The surgeons had to take out large chunks of his bowel. Since then, he's been in a lot of pain, and he isn't doing well, which is why he has all the tubes. This is probably the closest case we have to a traumatic injury, so it shouldn't be too unfamiliar to you. Give it your best shot."

And if his 'best shot' wasn't enough? Maclibuin shook his head and shoved that thought away. Confidence, this was a time for confidence. Walking back into the room, he gave the mom a small nod and smile before he turned to Phil. "I'm gonna see if I can get you feeling a little better, alright? This may feel a little funny, but just bear with it." He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and held one hand over Phil's belly. «Ready, Hiallus?»

«Yes, sir.»

Here went nothing. "Physical Heal."

A thick circle with runic writing on it appeared beneath his feet, a pentagram drawing itself inside the ring a second later. He had no clue why his shape was so different from the circles and triangles Calamity Witch used, but he was not going to complain about a cosmetic issue. A light green halo formed around his hand to shine on Phil, and then the light gave the boy an aura of his own.

The seconds counted down in awkward silence, but he at least had the option of focusing his attention on the flow of mana through his body and what little he could feel as it interacted with Phil's body. He hoped it was doing its job right; he could feel it clustering up in a few distinct spots that should have been where the surgeries were done, but he had no way to tell. A minute passed before he felt the rush of magic into Phil dwindle away. "That's as much as I can do," he told the doctor and the mom. "There's only so much somebody can take before more power has no extra effect. I don't want you to be surprised or worried if he's not fully healed. How do you feel now?"

The boy twisted a little bit, then poked his tummy with a finger. "I don't hurt anymore."

"That's a good sign," Coss said. "The nurses are going to take you downstairs for another scan in a few minutes, Phil. We want to see how much better you are now. Mac, if you'll come with me. I have a few other people I think you might be able to help."

They saw a total of twelve patients together, anyone who had a parent around to give him permission to heal their kids. Only one of them refused, the emblem of a prominent anti-cape group dangling from her wrist explaining why much more eloquently than the vitriol she spewed at him. In addition to scratching the itch to do something altruistic, it also gave him the chance to find the limits to his powers. Limits like the fact that he could apply his spell to infections and organ failure, though it was not quite as effective as when he treated injuries. Or maybe it was simply that the results were not as obvious. He also proved that the thing with Phil wasn't a fluke; his spell had an upper boundary beyond which he simply could not do any more, although if whatever disease he was working on had hit multiple areas of the body, he could approach each area independently and eke out a little more bang for his buck.

And finally, even though his Device made his spellcasting more efficient, his mana was still a finite resource.

"I'm sorry, but this is where I tap out," he told Coss half an hour or so after they started. "I don't have anything left in the tank."

The doctor smiled. "Trust me, that's nothing to apologize for. I'm amazed you were able to do as much as you did. Some of these kids have kept us busy the last few nights, and even if you couldn't get them back to a hundred percent, you managed to help stabilize them. That's going to give them a better chance than they had before you got here." A nurse cleared her throat and handed him a few sheets of paper, and his smile grew wider. "Do you want some good new before you leave? This is the read for Phil's CT. It's worlds better than it was this morning, good enough that we can transfer him out of the ICU to the regular surgery floor. It's a huge step to getting him back home."

That was good news, and it made him wonder something. "Hey, I've got a question for you. What should I do if I want to swing over here some other night? Or even during the day?"

Coss tapped his chin in thought. "Most people who want to volunteer I'd send to that department, but they aren't directly involved in patient care. I don't think you want to go through the same rigamarole every time if you just show up in the ER, either." He nodded to himself. "Let me bring this up with the bigwigs and see what we can work out. Do you have a phone number or email address where I can reach you?"

"Would a PHO account work?"

Contact information exchanged, Maclibuin was guided by another staff member back to the ER entrance. He felt quite pleased with himself if he were being honest with himself. This was a good night.

Of course that was when everything went to hell and the sky exploded into light.

Maclibuin blinked the spots out of his eyes, and when he looked up it was to see a man in an iconic blue bodysuit hovering in the air. That was the problem with being a villain in New York City. There was no telling when he would suddenly find himself standing on front of Legend.

He wasn't getting blasted by every gay man's favorite cape just yet, though, so maybe he could get out of here without too much of a scrap. "Good morning," he called out.

"Good morning to you." Legend drifted down to the ground, his arms hanging at his side instead of crossed over his chest. Another good sign. "It's a little early to be out and about, though, isn't it? Even for a trip to the hospital."

"…They called you, didn't they?"

Legend nodded with a rueful smile. "They called us. In their defense, it isn't an everyday occurrence that a new healer shows up in town and volunteers his services to children in need. They called us just as a precaution. They also told us a couple of minutes later that you were exactly what you advertised yourself as. I came mostly to welcome you to the New York cape scene."

…Legend had no clue who he was, did he? Maclibuin would have assumed that his size and scars would give away the secret, but then again, everyone who knew about him knew he was a basic Brute. He was not supposed to have any healing powers. That must be enough that Legend was willing to chalk up the physical similarities to coincidence. "Thank you for that. Most people don't have Legend popping over to say hi."

"Not enough hours in the day to do that, much as I would enjoy it. If I may ask, the hospital staff didn't get your name, at least not when they called us."

"I… I haven't thought up a good one yet," he lied. He liked his name just fine, but he could not give it out without wrecking what was so far a perfectly pleasant conversation. The idea that there could be two capes with the same name and appearance running around in the same town was too much of a coincidence to overlook.

"Yes, I was lucky to get in on the cape scene early on before all the easy names were taken. I'm sure you'll find one you like soon enough.

"Unfortunately, I meant what I said about being here mostly to welcome you. I also need to give you a warning." Oh no. "I'm sure the staff here are all good people, but if you make a habit of coming to the hospitals and healing people, eventually one of the gangs will hear about it and try to conscript you. I doubt they'll be gentle about it, either." He stretched out his hand. "If you ever feel like you're in danger, please don't try to handle it on your own or suffer in silence. Go to one of our bases. We can keep you safe."

Was Legend really offering a safe haven just like that? Or was it a recruitment pitch dressed up in concern? There was no way to tell, and despite having no great love for the Protectorate as a whole – there was a reason he had not joined their ranks when the rest of the Minor League was killed – he did not want to blindly assume the worst of Legend of all people.

"Thank you," he said again, shaking the other hero's hand. "I hope I never have to take you up on that, but I appreciate the offer all the same."

Legend took off back into the sky, and Maclibuin walked back to the alley with a spring in his step. Tonight hadn't been a bad night. Not at all.


Epoch's and Maclibuin's character sheets updated.

I try to be as accurate as possible when it comes to real places, but I couldn't find a good map for the layout of Kravis Hospital. Finding out where the PICU was located was difficult enough. You'll just have to cut me some slack this time around.

Anyway, now that the whole Ziz thing is done, we can finally vote on Tim's build schedule for the week. Because of the Unison Device, he has THREE build slots to play with. If you need ideas, there's a running list threadmarked in the Informational tab. Don't forget you also have Bakuda bombs you could analyze, which have been elaborated on in his inventory.

Take 24 HOURS to think about what you're going to do.