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My Life as a Teenage Juggernaut... (Worm AU x Marvel)

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Biceps of Fame
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    • *The biceps of fame.*

    (A silly follow up to the sidestory 'Money for Nothing'.)

    Taylor had just finished eating and was discussing the current novel from the English class with another girl when one of the football players approached her.

    She looked up at him, automatically assessing his fitness and strength. She knew that he was no match for her; but something about her changes made her evaluate everyone that way. (It had nothing to do with teenage hormones at all, of course, even if she liked muscular men.)

    He was very well built, with the defined muscles of someone that spent a lot of time lifting weights. That was obvious fom the sheer thickness of his chest and the corded arms that swelled the T-shirt he wore. She had seen him before, of course, and noted him in passing, simply because he was one of just three boys in school that was as tall as she was, and the only one that seemed as muscular as she was.

    He looked around, sighed and squatted, so that he wasn't looming over her. "I um, ah, had a request," he muttered.

    Taylor had no idea what he wanted, but the PR team for the Protectorate had given her tips on how to put people more at ease. "Well, why don't we start with an introduction? You know who I am, obviously, but all I know about you is that you're on the football team."

    "Oh, yeah. I'm Jason Marko."

    Somewhere inside her, Taylor felt her passengers sit up and pay more attention for some reason, but she ignored it for now. She'd find out later why his name interested them. "OK, now that we know each other, what can I do for you?"

    He reached into his backpack and pulled out a very familiar magazine. He opened it to a previously marked page and set it on the table. Taylor already knew what she would see, of course. She had a framed copy of that page at home. "Would you sign this for me, please?"

    Taylor blinked, staring at the ad for a protein supplement tailored for women that had a picture of her arm, in a V flexed position. It didn't show anything but the arm and she blurted out the first question that came to mind. "What makes you think that's me?"

    Jason blushed and stammered for a minute as she stared at him and the girl she'd been talking to giggled. "I've seen you in gym class, and I might have recognized the form and swell of that bicep?"

    Taylor was torn between the teenage embarrassment of somebody admiring her and the creepy thought that somebody had memorized her body parts to the point that they recognized them even without the rest of her to see.

    Jason seemed to realize that she was uncomfortable and started babbling. "I lift, you know, and am hoping to get into it professionally, so I pay a lot of attention to people with the right form, and your form is just awesome, and you'd probably be a big name, if you weren't a parahuman, but een so, you're like a model of how a bodybuilder should look and a lot of the lifters..."

    Taylor cut him off with a sigh. She'd known that even if they didn't say anything, almost everyone knew that she was Juggernaut. It wasn't as if Brockton Bay was full of 6' 8" teenage girls after all. Especially not ones that looked as if they'd been lifting for years.

    She'd simply never considered that to people that liked muscles, she was quite attractive until her modeling gig. The comments she heard or overheard during that had opened her eyes, but those had all been adults, who were aware that A. She was a minor, and B. That she could break all of them in half, without breaking a sweat, so they'd been very respectful.

    This was the first time she'd met a musclehead that was her own age, and it was... honestly, too confusing right now.

    She pulled out her pen and scrawled her name on his magazine, hoping to end this scene before her head exploded from embarrassment.

    On her way to her next class, she tried to figure why her passengers, mostly QA, were so involved with some sort of shipping discussion.

    (Like it says, just a silly follow up; Melissa, the girl that the first scene was based on, had a few encounters with people that admired female muscles, and while some of those encounters were from people who had QQ type ideas in mind, a few were just people that admired the female form. I don't think she ever had somebody recognize her biceps, however.)
     
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    05 - 'Naut a Clue
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    • The day's activities came and went as they usually did recently, which for her was a distinct improvement over the past couple of years. Taylor was currently sitting in her small apartment (noting it seemed smaller due to her size), enjoying the feeling of having eaten some leftover pizza and vanquishing the dreaded homework monster. Also, managing to throw her martial arts instructor more times than she'd been thrown made her feel like she'd accomplished something.

    Her next daunting task was to go through the pile of paperwork that was her Wards agreement by Sunday morning. She had the re-revised contract, her father's notes and the notes from Quinn Calle's office. It was still a pile of paperwork, though much reduced once the more legally dubious and questionable portions of the agreement were removed or replaced after some negotiation with the PRT. Legally it wasn't her problem as she was a minor, but everyone (including her) agreed it was best if she understood it as much as possible.

    "At least there were no problems with my cape name," Taylor stated to the air in her room. "I thought they'd try for something more 'family friendly' or 'approachable'."

    She could imagine the Public Relations department running around in a panic somewhere in the PRT building and quietly chuckled to herself. There wasn't a costume they could make that would stand up to the abuse she'd subject it to, couldn't change the colors of the costume she already had, and the name!

    She'd actually expected a fight about the name when she had it registered. Surprisingly, no one had used that specific cape name, though there had been a cape in India that had used the Hindi version of it. Even more freaky had been when she'd submitted the alternates she'd come up with, everyone agreed that the only name that really worked was Juggernaut.

    Hell, she even expected a lawsuit from whoever held the old IP rights to the comic book character, but that was Legal's headache. Assault had pointed her at an old set of images about a character that had almost her exact powerset, along with a weakness to mental attacks if caught without a helmet. She was also glad she looked nothing like that fictional character.

    Of course, all this meant that anyone who encountered her was bound to try to see if she lived up to the moniker and was truly unstoppable. She'd have to come up with a plan to make non-fatal examples of the first couple of idiots, to scare all but the most stupid into staying away.

    Locally, that meant at some point Lung would come looking for her, to test her strength if nothing else. He was known to do things like that. A couple of others would give it a shot as well, including at a minimum the Empire cape Hookwolf. And probably before she signed on with a group, which was looking to be the Wards. With all that, she was preparing for something of a wild weekend. She couldn't bear the thought of staying inside, it was supposed to be pretty nice for the end of January. Sadly, going out enough to enjoy it was likely to attract so much attention, some of it the wrong kind.

    She considered the capes in town that she thought might cause her problems. Ironically, the stupidest cape in town, Skidmark, would probably cause her the most problems with his redirection fields. Victor would be next, if he could steal her basic motor skills like walking. Assault would be third, with his kinetic absorption powers and experience; fortunately he was a Protectorate hero and unlikely to start anything. She wouldn't put it past Uber & Leet to come up with some insane tinkertech gadget that would work once before exploding and turning everything fluorescent paisley. And finally, Labyrinth, who could simply drop her into an alternate world, though the PHO description of her power said the girl was supposed to end up in there with her. Taylor had no wish to have to hit the girl, or fight the rest of Faultine's crew.

    That was something a villain would do, and she was going to try to avoid that. Hurting children, kicking puppies and kittens, laughing maniacally (unless you were Assault, but people already thought he was crazy) – those were all on her list of things to not do.

    She was then hit with the realization that once she resolved to not do them, she was going to wind up doing them anyway. If only by accident, because the universe was perverse like that.

    "Murphy, you bastard," she said to the empty room.

    Hopefully they'd all happen when people were realizing it was justified or even just pretending. And as unlikely a confrontation with Faultline and her mercenary capes was, improbable things were apparently a fact of cape life. Carefully, she flopped down on her couch, looking up at the ceiling which might have been in style when her dad was young.

    She had a couple of hours before calling it a night, so what to do? She could read PHO – something that was usually both entertaining, informative and cringeworthy, sometimes all at once – but for now she'd had enough of VoidCowboy, Winged_One, and AllSeeingEye going round and round and round, winding everyone up before one of the moderators stepped in. And those were only the worst offenders. The site seemed to attract that type.

    The few books her dad had brought over'd been read, she'd been warned about working too far ahead in her homework, and really, the only things left to do in her room were either read legal papers, watch TV, listen to the radio, or go to sleep.

    Not being tired, she didn't want to sleep. Because the reception was crappy, she could only get the talk radio or punk rock stations, neither of which appealed to her sensibilities. And network TV? There was nothing on, and you could only watch reruns of even the quite good mysteries on PBS so many times.

    It then occurred to her that it had been a while since she'd done any jogging, and she had access to the training facilities, so she grabbed her gym bag and headed for the indoor track. If nothing else, she should find out how her physical changes would affect that.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    There were a couple PRT troopers watching the place, mainly because they were on restricted duties due to injuries. From the security station they were monitoring the track, where the girl who'd been staying in the residential annex had checked in for a bit of jogging before turning in for the night.

    "She doesn't appear to be slowing down," one said as the girl ran another lap.

    "Nineteen point nine five," the other noted from the automatic performance tracking unit. "She's getting faster."

    "How many laps has she completed?"

    "This'll be ten."

    "She's on track for a near five minute mile. Very impressive."

    "The other thing is she's not showing any strain."

    "Really?"

    "Really. She appears to not be breathing hard, isn't sweating, and according to the timer she's getting faster. Nineteen point eight two seconds this lap. Might be a power thing."

    "I wonder how fast she could go if she tried?"

    "Probably wouldn't be a sprinter, too much mass to get moving for those quick starts."

    "If she was a normal girl."

    "True. Since we both know she's a brute, it's a moot point. She can't compete in competitions. And then there's the problem at the other end."

    "Yeah, stopping." The first trooper shuddered. "I saw what was left of Squealer's urban assault vehicle after it hit her and then there's the remains of Winslow, with large, vaguely human shaped holes punched through brutalist architecture like some weird Looney Tunes knockoff."

    "Still, I wonder how long she can keep it up?"

    "Parahuman, so – you buy the drinks if she goes more than an hour?"

    "And you buy if she goes less? You're on."

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Taylor leaned back into her bed after a quick shower once she'd finished spending an hour jogging around the track. She'd managed to relax and think about nothing except putting one foot in front of the other. It'd been oddly nice. She reached over, turned out the light, and went to sleep.

    = = = = = = = = = = =​

    "Good morning, Director." Miss Militia greeted as she sat down for her morning meeting with the woman.

    "Two of those three words are correct," Emily groused. "As in, it's morning and I'm the director. Good? Remains to be seen. What do you have for me?"

    "A relatively peaceful night," Hanna began. "No major cape actions took place. Some activity over in the Merchants' claimed territory, where several unpowered dealers got run off by Uber & Leet of all people. A couple reports of an Empire dog fighting ring getting hit by Hellhound and the usual assortment of independents stopping or committing robberies and muggings. Panacea doing more extra work at Brockton General. And a report from the fitness center staff."

    "What has Miss Hebert broken now?" Emily asked.

    "Possibly regional athletic records for the one mile and ten kilometer events," Hanna continued. "At least unofficially. Was down to five minutes, ten seconds a mile. Apparently she needed to unwind last night and decided to jog around the track for an hour. Nothing damaged or broken, and a quiet night overall. She's scheduled to be moving back home over the weekend."

    "That's well and good," Emily admitted. "How goes the Wards paperwork?"

    "A quick talk with her father had him going through what's hopefully the last few problematic clauses in the contract, and he should have a counter-proposal for us on Monday morning."

    "At least he can see both sides and is actually fixing things instead of just pushing the problems around so they favor him. Getting that finished should get Costa-Brown off our backs," Emily muttered.

    "I can see her point, though," Hanna continued. "She doesn't want the gangs to recruit her."

    "I'd actually like to see a forced recruitment attempt," Emily said with something that could generously be called a smile. "In someone else's city."

    "The few thinkers we have access to say that collateral damage will be an unfortunate fact of life for her," Hanna finished.

    "I gathered that from her power testing," Emily added. "Might mention that to the Chief Director as a reason to increase our budget. I'd better let you get back to work."

    = = = = = = = = = = = =​

    In Brockton Bay, there's a location where few people dare to go, crazy, sane, or cape. The old visitors' center near the ferry station closest to the Archer Street Bridge. It had been closed the year after the riots which caused the Docks to suffer excessive damage. Shortly after that it'd become the domain of the Teeth, and as such had been hazardous to life, limb and power to be around.

    When AllFather's Eighty-Eight and the March decided the Teeth had overstayed their welcome, the entire Docks area had become a war zone for about two weeks. During that time, the three groups in that area – Teeth, March, and the Brockton Bay Dockworker's Association – had slugged it out while the Empire harassed and ambushed the Teeth everywhere outside of the Docks. The DWA had mainly fought to defend their area, and AllFather and Marquis respected the DWA's neutrality in the matter, neither attacking them nor trying to pass through where they defended. They also respected the Oerlikon and Bofors guns the Union had salvaged from decommissioned Navy destroyers and had made operational over the years.

    Three of the Teeth's capes found out that twenty and forty millimeter high explosive rounds were overkill against gang members, even non-brute parahumans, and that most technicals couldn't take repeated hits from an Oerlikon, let alone a Bofors quad mount gun. After the Teeth had fled Brockton Bay, the guns had quietly disappeared into the labyrinth of the DWA facility and hadn't been seen since, much to everyone's relief.

    The area had been deserted not long after that, the aftereffects of using heavy weaponry and the arrival of a new cape who'd united the various Asian gangs under one banner making the area almost as dangerous yet for some people far safer than when the Teeth had been controlling it.

    It was into that void that Adam Mustain and his girlfriend, Sherrel Bailey, had decided to stake their claim and set up shop, using the old visitors' center as a lair. First as drug dealers for the area around their little territory, and then getting into the manufacturing of recreational pharmaceuticals. With his girlfriend's stealth tech in their smuggling vehicles, they'd had no problems bringing in materials or merchandise and making payments.

    And life had been good. They'd slowly expanded their business, been reminded by the Empire and ABB where the lines were, pissed off the police, PRT, and Protectorate, and partied like it was going out of style.

    Then, on a test / munchies run, Sherrel'd attracted the attention of the police and PRT and then hit a new, unknown cape. Who turned out to have been completely unaffected from getting hit by the transport vehicle, and then ripped it in half bare handed.

    He'd been scaroused at that.

    Then Sherrel'd been taken into custody. That pissed him off.

    Adam Mustain, better known as Skidmark, contemplated what action to take. He'd normally send one of his flunkies who didn't have a record to pay the bail and that would be that, and they'd ignore the court date. Couldn't do that until they set her bail, though.

    He was one cape, in a city crawling with them. He'd need to recruit more. And figure out how to get his girlfriend out of the PRT holding cells if they were stalling.

    Then he could see about recruiting.

    He cackled a bit, attracting the attention of a few stoners and tweakers around the old building, and then went back to check on the inventory to see what he needed to order and what new shit he could push on the street to his dealers.
     
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    • 06 - Dread 'Naut I
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    • Finally, it was the weekend.

    Friday evening, Taylor'd gotten most of her things boxed up and had made doubly sure that all the stuff had been cleaned out of the various cabinets and drawers and that everything staying with the room was in as good a condition or better than when she'd moved in. Now it was a matter of waiting for her dad to show up with the new minivan so she could ride in comfort and haul her stuff back home without being exposed to the elements.

    And maybe, spend some time on the Boardwalk. She had the last of her order at Parian's Doll House to pick up – some casual clothes. She wasn't going to tempt fate and hope nothing would happen while she was out enjoying herself. No, she was expecting Lung to challenge her to a fight, with Skidmark making book, the E88 handling the concessions, then Hookwolf wanting to take on the winner.

    Expecting it to all go to hell meant that nothing would happen, right?

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Saturday morning started off well. The minivan readily held all the things she'd had with her at the PRT's apartment block. She could easily get in and out of it, noting the slightly deeper footwells and slightly larger windshield. Her head didn't bump into the top of the car when the van rolled over some of the smaller potholes in the city streets around their house. Unlike the Docks, the area around where they lived had seen the occasional road repair crew. Danny soon backed the van into the driveway.

    "Remember, please," he chided his daughter before shutting off the engine, "only a couple boxes at a time. While I realize any secret identity you have is about as thin as tissue paper, we can at least play along with the polite fiction, right?"

    "Yeah, I understand," Taylor answered. She grabbed a box of stuff and tried to act like it weighed enough to cause her some minor difficulty.

    "Yeah, I can see you're gonna need to practice," Danny admitted, before adding another box to what Taylor was carrying. "That looks better. I'll go get the front door unlocked, so you can see some of the changes,"

    Taylor nodded, and followed her dad to the front door. The first thing she noticed was that the front steps had been replaced by something that looked remarkably like wood, except the sound of her stepping on it was very different.

    "It's a very high density, high strength composite material," Danny explained. "With a core of good old fashioned stainless steel."

    Taylor took a step up, and then another. The front door had been replaced with one she wouldn't ram her forehead into all the time. It appeared to resemble the old door, but it looked to be the same material as the steps out front.

    "Whoever did this did a good job of making everything match," Taylor commented. "Who did the work?"

    "With you becoming a cape," Danny explained as they walked through the house to the stairs, "we became eligible for some assistance from the PRT. I suspect because of who was responsible, the paperwork was expedited. The company was a subsidiary of Dracotech that specializes in Parahuman-safe features, and they did the work quickly and quietly, fabricating the material on site."

    "That's kinda cool," Taylor commented. "Wow, they even did the stairs inside, too." The old stairs had creaked when Taylor had gone up and down them before, and that was at her previous size. The only sound now was the dull thud of her gunboat-sized feet.

    "The door to your room was replaced," Danny added, "though it's only normal wood. The expensive part of all this is the bedframe for your bed. I was told the superalloy steel frame was about as much as the van."

    "OK," Taylor answered as she set down a couple of boxes on her now queen sized bed. "You mentioned some federal assistance, but this? Where'd the money come from?"

    "When Zoe found out what had happened, she went ballistic," Danny explained. "She and Anne were over here that evening, apologizing profusely," Danny set his box down on Taylor's slightly larger desk. "She offered what assistance she could. She helped pay for the van and some of the furniture. Anne made sure the replacements were close to what you already had. I'm grateful for the help.

    "I also get the feeling that Alan is sleeping on the couch," he slyly confided, "or in a motel. It seems he didn't tell Zoe anything about what had happened the summer after Annette passed away."

    "Which was?" Taylor asked.

    "Emma was with Alan and they'd just gotten some Korean take out when some ABB initiates decided she'd do. Alan got mugged, and Emma almost got raped. A few minutes after they got jumped, when Emma decided to try and claw one of their eyes out, Shadow Stalker intervened."

    "Who was Sophia," Taylor growled.

    "I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Danny started back down the stairs, Taylor following. They remained quiet as they went back down to the van and gathered up another load.

    "Zoe explained to me they're still trying to figure out all the details, and that Emma will probably need a lot of therapy, possibly for the rest of her life," Danny said as they re-entered the house.

    "As for the rest, the PRT and Protectorate are talking with our lawyer, Mr. Racke. They're trying very hard to settle out of court. I'm assured that Sophia is already down in New York City, awaiting her tribunal, and I've been told it's unlikely she's coming back."

    "Dad," Taylor chided, "if there's anything living in Brockton Bay should have taught you, it's not to tempt fate. Now that you've said something, I suspect Sophia will make an attempt on my life, with both the Teeth and the Slaughterhouse Nine hot on her heels, along with a visit from an Endbringer."

    "You're far too cynical for your age," was Danny's answer.

    "Far too big, too."

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    It hadn't taken long for Taylor to get her old things packed away, and her new things put where they belonged. Her drawers and closet looked positively barren, but that was because she'd outgrown everything. She'd have to order any bras she'd need, but she could probably find clothes in the couple of big and tall women's clothing stores in Brockton Bay. Hosiery shouldn't be an issue, shoes might be. Still, there were a couple of girls at school on the basketball team that were nearly her size, with larger feet.

    "I never thought I'd say this, but I need to do some clothes shopping."

    Danny looked at her over the remains of lunch, which had been a fair amount of leftover pizza. "Dare I ask how expensive this is going to be?"

    "Socks and stuff, mainly," Taylor answered. "I have a distressing shortage of underthings in general."

    "Ah, any idea of where you'd be shopping?"

    "There's the last part of the order at the Doll House, then I was going to try the big and tall stores for women off the Boardwalk," Taylor replied. "Plus some shoes at Earhardt's."

    Danny thought for a while. "While I'd prefer that you didn't go out alone, I've got an appointment this afternoon with Mr. Racke. I can drop you off at the Boardwalk, and meet back up with you a couple hours later?"

    "Or you could use your phone and give me a call when you're done," Taylor said.

    "Yeah, OK. I still don't like having a cell phone, and I need to get used to having one," Danny said. "If the meeting is going to run for more than two hours, I'll give you a call."

    "And I'll try to get into way too much trouble."

    "Taylor..."

    "Dad, it's Brockton Bay. This is where trouble makes its home when it's not someplace else." Taylor shrugged as she got up and began putting the paper plates and pizza boxes into the trash. At the very least, she could compress them small enough that they fit easily into the trash can and didn't unfold.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Taylor had been shopping for only about half an hour before she ran into someone she knew.

    "Hey, Taylor!" Vicky waved from where she floated alongside Amy.

    Taylor, being polite, waved back. Vicky took this as an invitation to come closer.

    "Out enjoying the day?" the blonde asked. She had a few bags she was carrying. Amy had a single bag in hand.

    "Kind of," Taylor allowed. "I'm taking care of a necessary evil, replenishing my wardrobe since my sizes changed drastically."

    Vicky nodded. "I'm actually playing bodyguard while Ames is out looking for some clothes." Vicky sighed. "I learned a long time ago not to force my opinions on fashion onto my sister. Humiliations galore. So I stick to just keeping an eye out for people who might cause her trouble..." Vicky's voice trailed off as she was looking at something behind Taylor. "Like the morons coming down the street."

    "Oh, joy," Amy muttered darkly.

    Taylor could hear people starting to get out of the open and into cover. That could only mean a few things in the madhouse of a city she lived in, and none of them good. A moment later, a couple of non-descript trucks went speeding by, nearly overloaded with shaved heads and leather wearing gang members.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    "Empire reinforcements are inbound."

    "Squads Able, Baker, hold where you are. Squad Charlie, sitrep."

    "Hookwolf is riled up about something, decided he was going to shut down the Undersiders."

    "What about surveillance targets?"

    "All three are talking, and have noticed the commotion."

    "Sir, Squad Delta. Skidmark is moving, heading towards Hookwolf's location."

    "Command copies. Redirect Skidmark from the conflict."

    "Roger Command. Redirecting now."

    Commander Calvert heard the orders given by the sergeant to the rest of the squad. There was a brief sound of silenced gunfire.

    "Skidmark has been redirected. He's now headed straight toward Glory Girl, Panacea, and a friend."

    He did a quick simulation of what would happen if Skidmark attacked the group, or if he didn't. The results were surprising. "Squad Delta, reinforce Squad Charlie. Command out."

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Vicky heard the commotion being caused by what appeared to be a bunch of Merchants causing trouble and heading their way. "Ames, I'm gonna get you outta here, Mom's orders. Taylor, I'm gonna have to come back for you."

    "Don't worry about me," Taylor answered as shoppers and tourists began to react. "I'll be fine."

    Vicky nodded, grabbed her sister in a bridal carry, and took off for a nearby roof.

    Looking around, Taylor spotted an alleyway. Ducking into it, she made sure no one was around and triggered the change into her costume. This time there was no flash of crimson light, her costume was simply there. Even her shopping had disappeared into stuff space with her clothes. Very handy. Now prepared, she walked out of the alleyway and began sauntering towards the altercation being caused by a dozen Merchants and Skidmark.

    It was at that point that Skidmark learned the problem of having stoned, juiced, tweaked or wired minions, in that someone was going to be really twitchy or on a bad trip and shoot at something they shouldn't. In this case someone started shooting at the massive figure in blood red and rust walking straight at them.

    Taylor grinned. It was now a case of self defense and defense of others. She noted most of the bystanders had taken cover at a reasonably safe distance, some of the less intelligent ones standing up with cameras in hand. The smarter ones were using selfie sticks to poke their cameras out from behind cover. And the really smart ones? Those were getting well away.

    She noticed the patter of flattened bullets falling to the ground around her. One of her concerns had been ricochets off in random directions. It appears that bullets came to a complete stop when they hit her forcefield.

    "You should really put those down before someone gets hurt," Taylor called out to the Merchants.

    "Why the fuck should we care, bitch?"

    "Because if you don't I'd have to hurt you," Juggernaut answered, "and I don't want to deal with the paperwork."

    "Suck it, bitch!" yelled Skidmark, and laid down one of his fields. He then threw something into it, and it headed straight at the imposing figure in red.

    The street fell silent as Taylor caught the improvised projectile with a slightly echoing "thunk". Two more were shot at her, hitting her with no effect. "My turn," she growled, and started picking up speed.

    When she hit the group of Merchants in the middle of the street, they scattered like a bunch of bowling pins enacting a vigorous strike. She stopped, reached down, and grabbed a dropped rifle, promptly wadding it into a lumpy sphere in front of Skidmark. "You still want to do this?"

    There was silence from him, but another chunk of debris hit her in the mouth – and stuck.

    Taylor bit down, pulverizing the chunk of pavement and spitting out the rest. "Really?" she said. "My turn." With that, she clapped her hands together with a little bit of force.

    The shockwave produced was very directional, as if it had been formed in a pipe, and it hit Skidmark hard, propelling him into the air. In desperation, he covered himself in his own fields, probably hoping to protect himself from the impact with whatever hard and unyielding surface he landed on.

    From Taylor's point of view, she winced as she broke a few windows as the overpressure wave spread out from the tube she'd apparently made from her forcefield after said wave had picked up the Merchant's leader and thrown him into the air. Just as he reached the top of his arc he started glowing, and when he hit the ground, things became really interesting as he shot off into the air in a random direction...

    ...Which had him headed straight for the Rig. Talk about delivery.
     
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    • 07 - Dread 'Naut II
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    • When last we left our story, the nominal villain of the day, Adam Mustain, aka Skidmark, had just been introduced to a directed overpressure wave by our titular heroine. Finding himself about to experience a practical demonstration of potential energy transforming into kinetic energy – via impacting the readily available pavement beneath him – in desperation, he applied his power to himself multiple times, the colors going from pale blue to a purple so dark it was almost black. On the first impact, he struck the road. Instead of the pavement (and the planet it was attached to) being deflected, he found himself being shot off in a random direction, sailing out over the bay in a classic ballistic arc.

    We now rejoin our story in progress...

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    "Aaaaaaaaaaah!" Skidmark had reached the top of his arc, nearly a mile up over the bay, and was beginning to succumb to gravity again. Beneath him, he could see the surface of Brockton Bay's titular water feature, and that it was now starting to get closer. He reinforced his multiple layers of fields around him, most of which had popped after saving his ass from becoming a literal skidmark on the pavement of Lord's Street.

    His momentum was picking up, and it looked like he was going to miss the PRT's base, instead hitting the water. He soon reached terminal velocity, and the water was filling the entirety of his field of vision. Suddenly he skipped off a wave, his fields re-directing his kinetic energy, and he was now coming in low, straight at The Rig and the blasted forcefield was up.

    His time slowed to a crawl as his field contacted the Rig's forcefield…

    Which stretched like rubber, slowing him down. Then, with a clearly audible >BOING!<, it shot him back out as it returned to its normal hemispherical shape. He skipped off the water again, seeming to pick up speed, and found himself aimed at the tallest building in the city. He was hoping he'd miss.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Max Anders was currently enjoying a slow day in his office. He was discussing various things with his lieutenants, possibly even giving them the rest of the day off. Except for Brad, who was currently causing trouble while trying to deal with the Undersiders, who had accidentally led a group of the BBPD's finest into one of his dog fighting rings, which had led to multiple arrests and confiscations.

    The casual meeting was interrupted by a dull thud, following a squeal of something being pushed along the glass that was exhibiting a good deal of friction. As a whole, the assembled group got to watch Skidmark be forcefully pushed along the windows for about ten feet, before the glow around him flared and he shot off in another direction.

    "Victor?"

    "Yes Max?"

    "Where in the world is it after 5pm?"

    "Ironically, it's after 5pm local time in Berlin."

    "Good," Max said, standing up. "Bar's open, people. There's no way I can deal with what just happened without some alcohol."

    There were nods of agreement around the room. Victor called down to the cafeteria and had them bring a couple carts of food up as well. Might as well serve lunch, too.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Skidmark, now having ricocheted or bounced off of three other buildings of large size, was wondering where he was going to end up. At some point he'd have to run out of forward momentum, so he'd come to a stop. By now, he had a bored expression on his face, and wasn't even looking at where he was headed until it was far too late to do anything. Not that he could do anything but add or remove his kinetic fields while he was airborne.

    He hit the glass of the PRT building's fourteenth floor. Briefly, he stayed put on the glass, and then slowly started sliding down the front of the building with the squeaking / squealing sound of skin being rubbed against glass.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Emily Piggot was having a rare, enjoyable Saturday. There had been no parahuman shenanigans in the last couple of days, just the gangs having a squabble amongst themselves. Her people made sure that the fighting stayed away from groups of civilians, and kept the violence from spreading too far.

    Right now, it was Hookwolf chasing after the Undersiders, something that was sure to be posted to PHO afterwords, if only to share the antics of Hookwolf (despite being one of the most dangerous capes on the East Coast) and his minions as they were routinely humiliated by the minor villains / rogues. One of the smaller gang's members, who was the only one of them to have a charge of manslaughter on their record, had a beef to pick with Hookwolf and his dog fighting rings, so this wasn't a new occurrence.

    Right now, about half the Protectorate was out chasing after Hookwolf, with PRT support to keep the violence contained. She sincerely doubted they'd be able to corral the villain, but at the very least they should be able to keep things from getting too out of hand.

    Her ruminations just prior to lunch were interrupted by something striking the half inch thick tempered glass panes fronting her office and giving her an expansive view of the city below. She got a view of a parahuman, surrounded by flickering purple fields, dressed in dirty clothes. His face was smashed sideways into the glass, and teeth showing the abuse of a lifetime of methamphetamine use were clearly visible.

    She raised an eyebrow as Skidmark finally noticed whose window he was beginning to slide down. Walking over to the window, she watched as he slowly made his way down the front of the building. Shaking her head, she picked up her phone. "Can we get a squad and whichever Protectorate member is on duty here down to the cafeteria's deck? Skidmark has somehow hit the building, and is currently sliding down the facade."

    She listened to the duty officer's response. "Thank you," she told the man, before disconnecting her call. Walking back to her desk, she wondered how soon the footage would be on PHO. Curious, she sat down and opened the window for the forum. Browsing the local boards, she soon found the new thread, and began watching the first of several videos.

    To her own surprise, Emily Piggot began laughing.

    When Mike Renick went to ask her something, he had her put into master / stranger holding because she was still laughing.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    The last of his fields finally gave out about two floors from the PRT building's cafeteria's deck. Skidmark found himself peeling off the building, flailing in freefall... right up to the point where he hit a mound of containment foam. With a wet plunk, he vanished into the hardening foam, saved from a forceful impact with the furniture and concrete of the deck. Not as fatal as a fall from the fourteenth floor would have been, but he would have suffered serious injuries from the impact.

    "Ma'am," radioed Triumph, "we got him. What are the charges?"

    Deputy Director Renick answered. "She's not here. Assault and battery, defacing public property, public intoxication, and failure to affix a tax stamp," he said. "He's to be held pending seeing a magistrate about bail for that."

    "Yes Sir," Triumph answered, then closed his phone. "OK, let's clean this mess up and bag our perp!" he called out to his squad. In a few minutes, Skidmark was freed from his foamy prison and was promptly zip cuffed, gagged, Mirandized, and being led to prisoner processing.

    The first order of business there was hosing him down so he didn't present a sanitation hazard to the rest of the prisoners. Not because he was a mess from the confoam and solvent. That was an improvement over Skidmark's normal condition.

    Someone on PHO speculated about Skidmark getting deliberately captured for a free bath.

    = = = = = = = = = = = =​

    Taylor watched from street level, her helmeted head tracking Skidmark imitating a rather erratic pinball showing a complete disregard for the laws of physics as he bounced back and forth off various landmarks. She winced as he skidded across the glass of the Medhall tower's uppermost floor before being launched across the city again. When he finally faceplanted into the PRT building, she only sighed and shook her head.

    Meanwhile, from her spot up on the roof with her sister, Glory Girl was laughing her ass off, rolling around in the air. Even Panacea was laughing out loud as the wannabe drug kingpin did his pinball imitation, somehow out of desperation using his powers to keep himself alive... something he'd probably never thought of before that point, as this was the first time he'd been reported as getting airborne instead of just "high".

    "That… was... awesome!" Vicky enthused from her position on the rooftop.

    "I could have done without that," Taylor grumbled from the street level.

    Vicky and her sister returned to the ground and Juggernaut's side. "I really needed that," Amy managed to say, still short of breath. "How badly do you think he's hurt? Not that I'd heal him. Known villain, got apprehended commiting a crime, etc."

    "Ames, we've all discussed this: Skidmark's only part human. The other part is a cockroach, as he's damned hard to hurt, let alone kill." Vicky shook her head. "He's taken punches from me that I know have broken bones, yet the man crawls out from under a rock, pretty much whole and unhurt."

    "Hey, you in the red!"

    Taylor took a look at who was coming up the street. "If this day couldn't get any worse." At the head of a couple of dozen skinheads was a bare chested man wearing a steel wolf mask and Nazi tattoos on his arms. "What do you want?" she asked.

    "I'd like a word with you girl," Hookwolf stated. "The Empire's always looking for strong fighters. Could use someone like you."

    "What if I say no?" Taylor shot back.

    "Ain't gonna take no for an answer, girl."

    "The names Juggernaut, Stabbypuppy," Taylor answered. "Vicky, get your sister out of here."

    "Right," Vicky said before grabbing Amy and flying down the street, the latter complaining that she wanted to watch.

    "The last fucking moron to call me that's dead, Juggy," Hookwolf snarled. "Are you looking to join them?"

    "Nope. My goal is to get home," Juggernaut clearly stated. "You're in my way. You can get out of my way or get moved." She assumed a neutral stance, ready to attack or defend.

    "Cap that bitch," Hookwolf ordered. His men brought their guns up, and fired off a ragged volley. Unlike Skidmark's minions, these guys had actually spent time on a firing range, and thus managed to consistently hit their target. Only to watch every single bullet fall to the ground flattened into lead and copper disks.

    Hookwolf cut them off after the second volley. "Well, bitch, we get to do this the fun way." He triggered the first stage of his transformation, looking like his muscles were encased in metal, with claws, hooks and spear points forming on his hands. With a roar, he charged forward, his form shifting further into the metal wolf that was known and feared by most of Brockton Bay.

    Juggernaut's response was to take a step forward towards Hookwolf. She took three steps before he'd charged into her, doing absolutely nothing except bouncing off a couple of inches. She easily picked him up by the scruff of his bladed neck and threw him back towards his men.

    With alarming speed, he regained his footing and leapt at her again.

    Taylor decided that Glory Girl's solution to problems was the optimal one in this case. He couldn't get out of the way in time to avoid getting punched, so she let him have it in the form of an uppercut.

    Hookwolf watched as the massive fist closed with alarming speed. He tried to twist his body so the blow wouldn't be a direct hit, but hadn't counted on the sheer force of the punch.

    WHAM!​

    With Hookwolf now in vertical ascent, Taylor looked at the skinheads. She took one step towards them.

    They left the scene with alacrity, most throwing down weapons.

    As the people started poking their heads out of cover, a PRT van finally showed up. Per the usual, Assault was the one sent to meet her. "Well, looks like you've been really busy," he commented. "Need some help cleaning up? And do you know where Hookwolf wound up? I might have to fine you for littering and improper disposal of a Nazi."

    Off in the distance, they saw the impact of the villain into the top floors of the Medhall building. For some reason Assault found this hilarious.
     
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    'Naut unfashionable
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    • OWN: Had a conversation with Melissa this evening, and she was amused by the two omakes I based on her, and reminded me about some of the other issues facing extremely muscled women... One of which amused me to no end. Fortunately for Taylor, this is Wormverse, and she's not going to have quite as big a problem as Melissa did with this issue.



    Taylor had been Juggernaut for a year now, and for the most part, was happy with her current life. Oh, the fact that her 'secret' identity was limited to people not calling her Juggernaut when she was in civilian dress was annoying, but after that thing with Hookwolf and all the exercise she did, a truly secret identity just wasn't in the cards.

    Not many teenage girls were 7'4" after all, and the other two were a case 53 out in San Diego and a Russian parahuman, who was skinny in a way that would have people talking about eating disorders if her power wasn't responsible for her size.

    No, in Brockton Bay there was only one girl that tall, and so a secret identity was impossible. She smiled to herself as she remembered why the gangs were very careful to only call her Juggernaut in costume.

    That damn Nazi had moved to California when she was done, and joined the only still active monastery that didn't allow women in their building. The awe inspiring number of lectures, remedial PR classes and console time she gotten for that sixty three minutes of fun had been worth it though; no gang member since had called her Juggernaut in her civilian clothes.

    Taylor sighed and pushed the errant thoughts from her head.

    She had to find a dress. Not just any dress, but a nice dress, suitable for a prom date.

    The problem was simple: fashion designers didn't make dresses in her size, for the most part, and the ones she could find in a size that would fit her were either A. made for cross dressing men and completely unsuitable for a prom date, or B. had all the appeal of a maternity dress.

    Even those few dresses she found that were visually acceptable simply weren't made for a woman with more muscles and broader shoulders than most men. The less said about Vicky's plan of a 'little black dress, every woman's friend', the better.

    Nineteen shops so far, over fifty dresses examined, and nothing met her standards yet. Taylor was beginning to wonder if just going in costume wouldn't be easier. The thought of her costume triggered another thought.

    Power testing had shown her something about her power. She'd followed Shadow Stalker all over Winslow, even when she couldn't physically see her. Testing had shown that she could follow a target, as long as she kept moving after the target.

    Taylor stopped, pictured a perfect prom dress and took a step, and then another as she felt her power pulling her in that direction. She smiled as she walked down the sidewalk, wondering where her power was taking her.

    Four blocks later, she found out, as she stopped in front of a store having a customer appreciation day.

    Taylor sighed, watching the events in and out of the store.

    "Why didn't I think of Parian?"

    The feelings of amusement from the back of her head didn't help any, as she waited for the puppet show to end.


    OWN: Melissa told me that most dresses in shops made for someone her height (5'3") were either made for young girls, and far too small for a grown woman with breasts, or for woman that were... overweight, and far too big around the hips. She ended up having to have most of her clubbing dresses made for her. While Taylor doesn't have the preteen dress issue, a good many of the dresses I found online that would fit someone that tall and broad through the shoulders were cut for crossdressing men.
     
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    • 08 - Gordian 'Naut
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    • Max Anders had just sat down at his desk to do actual business related paperwork after a brief, impromptu drinking luncheon when his afternoon was rudely interrupted by a human-sized mass of bent and twisted metal impacting the large tempered glass windows with enough force to leave a hole in said window roughly the shape of a wolf. The mangled Empire cape bounced twice, ruining the carpet or ceiling each time, before getting stuck in the far wall.

    Max himself had ducked under his desk, protecting him from the spray of little chunks of glass and the flying mass of hooks and blades. "What the hell?" he said into the silence as he looked around. Yes, that was Hookwolf currently embedded in the wall opposite the now broken window. The twenty-five millimeter thick, tempered glass window that could resist twenty millimeter cannon fire. A window that was also twenty-five stories off the ground.

    It didn't take long for the twins to show up, along with Victor, who immediately checked on Hookwolf.

    "He isn't unconscious because his blades are still out," noted Victor, "but right now he's about as cognizant as a wino druggie."

    Max nodded. "Good, I won't get distracted chewing him out for whatever idiocy led to this."

    "So why is Brad currently hanging on the wall, upside down?" Nessa asked.

    "I'd like to know how he got shot through the window," Victor added.

    "I think we don't even have to guess who punched him hard enough to do it," Jessica said, looking at her phone. "Seems that new brute you told us to leave alone?"

    "Yes?" Max answered, awaiting the rest of the information.

    "Brad decided to fuck around. And he found out." Jessica sent a link to the video of the entire encounter to Max, who brought it up on the flatscreen TV in the office. After watching the short video, which was both instructive and hilarious, Max could only shake his head. At least he now knew why Skidmark had made his unexpected appearance earlier.

    Then his desk phone rang.

    "Mr. Anders, Sir?" the receptionist down in the lobby said in a shaky voice. "The PRT and Protectorate are here, looking to collect Hookwolf?"

    Of course they are.

    "Thank you, Miss Jenkins. Have security escort them up to my office," Max said, his voice weary. "Somehow, Hookwolf got punched through one of the windows here. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to be moving." He hung up the phone quietly.

    "PRT's on their way up, you should get out of sight for about half an hour," Max instructed as he cleared the video from the screen.

    As the three of them vanished via various secret and hidden access routes into the volume of the Medhall building, Hookwolf began to stir. His blades started to to move and swirl, and then there was the familiar sound of electricity, the smell of ozone, and the sight of Hookwolf briefly dancing an inverted jig in place before the breakers popped and the lights in the office suite went dark.

    He could hear Victor, inside a now lightless passage, swearing.

    It appeared it was going to be one of those days.

    = = = = - - - - = = = =​

    "So, has she stopped laughing yet?"

    Brian looked over at Lisa, who was still rolling around on the floor laughing her ass off. "No, Alec, she hasn't," he answered.

    "Have to admit it was funny, though," Alec replied. "Especially where he wound up."

    "Max Anders will be pissed," Brian added. "Probably try to sue the cape who did it to pay for replacing the window."

    "Just glad she," Rachel grumbled, hooking her thumb in Lisa's direction, "had an idea that worked." Then she smiled. "Funny what happened to Skidmark, though."

    "That was fucking hilarious," Alec stated, actually showing more emotion in that statement than he had in the last couple of months. "Landing in the PRT's lap was just la cerise sur le gâteau."

    Lisa had finally stopped laughing, and picked herself up off the floor. "Oh, man, that was awesome!" Her phone on the table played its incoming text jingle. Walking over and picking it up, she read the message. "OK, that was from the Boss. He says, 'Good Job. Pay plus bonus deposited in your accounts.'"

    "Cool! I've got some more games I want to buy," Alec practically enthused (for him). "Gonna find me a pinball game that lets you build a custom machine."

    "Like you need any more games," Lisa stated. "Unless Brian wants us to do something, the Boss also said the rest of today's a day off. I say we take care of the few personal matters we've got while we can. And if you happen to see our local Juggernaut, be polite and get out of her way."

    "No kidding," muttered Rachel.

    - - - - = = = = - - - -​

    "We all know why we're here, so let's just get this over with," Director Piggot groused. "Mike, while I usually approve of adherence to procedure and policy, I do laugh every so often. You don't have to throw me in the M/S tank when I find something absolutely hilarious."

    "Sorry, Ma'am."

    She waved dismissively. "Gave me a chance to pull myself together. Anyway, it appears Juggernaut is a trouble magnet," Emily continued. "Her trigger demolished Winslow. A couple of weeks after that, Squealer hits her with her latest engineering abomination. And today..."

    "Juggernaut was out shopping in civilian attire when she met up with the Dallon sisters," Miss Militia explained. "Nearby, Hookwolf and some normal E88 members were trying to give the Undersiders a hard time, due to Hellhound's persistence in shutting down his faction's dog fighting rings.

    "Skidmark was out with a bunch of his normals, touchy from Squealer's arrest and thinking that the Empire was making a push into an area the Merchants were claiming as their territory. Somewhere in the confusion, Skidmark wound up coming down towards the Boardwalk, and promptly encountered Juggernaut and the Dallons." Miss Militia stopped to take a breath. "Glory Girl would normally be an effective if messy counter, but this time she evacuated her sister, Panacea, to higher ground while Juggernaut prepared for trouble. She tried to de-escalate the situation, and then the normals opened fire. She proceeded to overrun them and gave Skidmark another chance to withdraw. Skidmark decided to escalate instead."

    "What happened next was a new comedy classic," Assault continued. "Clapping your hands to make a shockwave to deafen or scatter your opponents is a traditional brute tactic. Instead of being omnidirectional, Juggernaut can aim it, probably by using her forcefield. Skidmark went flying from the shockwave. In order to not become an actual skidmark, he covered himself with his kinetic redirection fields head to toe. And they behaved in a way that defies classical physics."

    Armsmaster nodded. "He deflected off the road, heading out over the bay. Instead of splashing down there, another application of his power had him redirected by a wave into a low arc aimed at The Rig. There was a power interaction between the forcefield and Skidmark's fields, which shot him back inland. He then proceeded to ricochet off of the Medhall Building, Wilson Financial, the old Sears and Roebuck's building, Brockton Credit Union, the Mayor's limo, and finally, the PRT building, where he was apprehended." He scrolled down on his tablet. "Surprisingly, very little collateral damage was done, either by Juggernaut or Skidmark. The limousine should only need washing."

    Triumph continued. "Skidmark is currently in lock up, having been cleaned up quite a bit in the process. Per current procedure for his power, he's cuffed, blindfolded and gagged, though we'll be removing that gag shortly so he can eat and drink."

    Assault picked up the narrative. "During the fight with Skidmark, the Undersiders shook off Hookwolf's pursuit. Unfortunately, they were headed straight for Juggernaut at the time. Hookwolf changed targets and attempted a recruitment pitch. She refused. Hookwolf insisted, then had his men shoot her. We know how well that works. Then Hookwolf personally insisted. His first attempt to maul her did nothing. He got punched for his second attempt. That uppercut..." He chuckled.

    "Somehow put him through the window of Max Ander's office three quarters of a mile away and twenty six stories up," Emily groused. "Man's lawyers have been complaining about it to Legal since you collected Hookwolf from his office."

    "So, in the end," Dauntless said, "we have Hookwolf, Skidmark, and Squealer in different lockups. If Juggernaut's a trouble magnet, at least she's a productive one."

    "Technically, Squealer is in Detox over at Brockton General's secure ward right now," Armsmaster clarified. "She's currently going through withdrawal, and was a danger to herself and other prisoners. I've been told her prognosis is good."

    "Is Skidmark going into withdrawal, too?"

    "No."

    "I wouldn't be surprised if his veins have more drugs than blood in them." Assault added an unconvincing "ow" when Battery slapped the back of his head.

    "Contacts over at the BBPD have stated they've rounded up about forty normal members of the Merchants, seized a couple million in narcotics, and a similar amount of cash from what may be the Merchants' main lair," Battery reported. "The old tourist center will have to be razed. A workshop thought to be Squealer's has been quarantined until it can be inspected. There's been no sign of Mush."

    "So when does Ms. Unstoppable join the Wards?" Assault asked.

    "Image, Legal, her father and his lawyer are still going over some of the clauses in the Wards paperwork," Emily stated. "Image wants to change her name to be more approachable and friendly. HQ wants us to get her onboard. Her father wants to make sure our paperwork is compliant with state and federal labor laws. They've almost come to an agreement, and Glenn Chambers from the national office has been barred from further attempts at pushing his ideas for her image on Juggernaut. If we're really lucky, she'll officially be on board in a week."

    = = = = - - - - = = = =​

    "Great Lung!"

    Lung looked up from where he was discussing something with a couple of his lieutenants to address the just arrived messenger. "Speak," he ordered.

    "There is a new cape in the city. The Empire tried to recruit her." the man reported nervously.

    "And?"

    "She punched Hookwolf straight into the top floor of the Medhall building for his impertinence."

    Lung raised an eyebrow. "I think, gentlemen," he said to those he'd been talking to, "we can take a break." He walked over to the messenger who'd brought the news. "Do you have pictures?"

    "Yes, Great Lung!" The man brought up the first of several pictures from the encounter between Skidmark, Hookwolf, and Juggernaut. And then the video.

    "I am impressed," Lung finally said, recognizing the costume from pictures taken the week before after Squealer's capture. "At some point I shall wish to test her myself, but today is not that day. Tell the men she is to be left alone, no recruitment attempts."

    "Yes, Great Lung."

    "Do you bring any other news?" Lung asked.

    "The information you requested to be turned over to the FBI about human trafficking in the area has been delivered. The pending case with those who engaged in it despite your prohibitions should mean they'll never see light again outside a prison yard."

    "Excellent," rumbled Lung. "Go and deliver my orders to my lieutenants."

    "At once." The runner bowed politely and left in almost indecent haste.

    Lung considered the pictures and video he'd been shown. The girl had power, more so than New Wave's rather infamous and photogenic flying brick, Glory Girl. She couldn't punch Hookwolf hard enough to throw him more than a dozen yards. This Juggernaut punched the Nazi nearly a mile, and still sent him through the inch thick panes of glass that covered the Medhall building.

    He could not readily duplicate that feat. That impressed him.

    He would treat the newcomer with some respect for her obvious and demonstrated power. If he wished to test her, he would do so in an area away from anything of value. Even on the occasions he'd fought the PRT and Protectorate, if they didn't lead the fight away from crowded areas of the city, he would. There were large sections of the abandoned part of the Docks that were barren because of such fights.

    Or one of Leet's projects detonating. It was a wonder how those two hadn't killed themselves yet. Still, one of his more profitable ventures was the small marina where one of Leet's malfunctioning devices had removed the debris and a portion of the existing shoreline, leaving a nice sized cove that was relatively safe and sheltered. The marina and restaurant (and illegal casino) had been built shortly thereafter.

    Ah well. Back to business. He was planning on getting a couple of the old convenience stores in his territory back up and running. Legitimate sources of income were always welcome, and they could be used as fronts to buy and sell goods of various types if one had the right kind of credentials.

    - - - - = = = = - - - -​

    "Dude, my ears are burning! I think someone's bad mouthing us again."

    Uber looked over at his partner. "Nah, you've just managed to start your hair on fire with a soldering iron. Again."

    "Augh!" With that, Leet placed the offending tool back in its stand and immediately ran over to a sink and turned the cold water on full blast.

    - - - - = = = = - - - -​

    "Hi, honey," Danny said as he picked up Taylor at a parking lot near the Boardwalk. "Have a good day?"

    "Kinda. Had to slap a couple of idiots."

    "Anything serious?"

    "Nope."

    Danny grinned, having seen the videos.
     
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    • 09 - 'Naut a Concern
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    • Taylor looked out over the crowd that had assembled. For an early February day, the weather was fairly pleasant, the wind blowing in from the ocean being warmed by the Gulf Stream. Thus, most people were wearing lighter coats and jackets, and the coffee vendors were doing a brisk business with their hot drinks.

    "...Ladies and gentlemen, I present Juggernaut!" Deputy Director Renick announced.

    That was her cue, and she strode out onto the stage. Or tried to. Although it looked reasonable, the stage hands who'd set things up hadn't actually left a big enough aisle for her to walk through. She sighed once and began walking towards the stage anyway.

    As the audience waited, they could hear chairs and various objects being pushed gently but noisily out of the way. Finally, the young woman of the hour slowly powered her way through a veritable pile of chairs, A/V boxes, and other things that had been left along the narrow aisle they'd directed her to enter through.

    The audience clapped politely as she waved.

    "So, Juggernaut, what happened?"

    The towering teenager shrugged. "The stage crew must not have believed you when you told them I needed a wider aisle for access to the stage," she answered.

    "I... see," Director Renick answered after a pause. "If it wasn't obvious, Juggernaut is a brute."

    "Are you sure she's a Ward?" someone called out from the audience.

    "Yes, Juggernaut is still a minor," Director Renick answered. "Just a very large one." With that, the event transformed into a rather atypical questions and answers session.

    "How much can she lift?" someone asked incredulously, not believing the amount that Director Renick stated.

    "I was tested to the limits of the equipment," Juggernaut answered. "It broke at 1,250 tons. And yes, I am taking some martial arts lessons so I don't pulp most perps I might run across."

    "Did you really rip Squealer's abomination of the week in half?"

    "I did, mainly so I wasn't trapped in it and to get her out in case it caught fire," Juggernaut replied. "She then shot me with a hogleg shotgun loaded with rubber shot. Rubber tastes terrible, by the way. Took days to get the taste out of my mouth. Same with the asphalt last week."

    "How do you get those kinds of tastes out of your mouth?"

    "I've found a plate of hot wings followed by blue cheese dressing, celery, and some chewy bread suppresses it for at least a couple of hours. Otherwise it's just fading with time."

    "What did you do to Skidmark?"

    "I clapped my hands together to create a shockwave," she explained. "Classic brute trick, but very few have the power to pull it off. Everything that happened after that was his doing in, according to him, a desperate attempt to not become a literal skid mark or smear on some hard, unyielding surface. Hookwolf was a simple uppercut. I just tapped him, and away he went."

    "And before anyone else can ask," Director Renick interrupted, "She will be washing the Mayor's limo. Our staff has come to a settlement with Medhall for the rather inaccessible broken window as well."

    "Was the violence in your handling of the situation last week on The Boardwalk really necessary?" a voice whined from the crowd.

    That person was soon very uncomfortable under the glare of the Protectorate, Wards, debuting Ward, Deputy Director Renick, and the people standing nearby.

    "Really, you want to go there?" Juggernaut asked. "I might be bulletproof, but nearly everyone around me with one exception wasn't. The Merchants weren't listening to reason, and I tried to talk them down. The review of my actions afterwards said I used an appropriate amount of force. The rest of the first part was all Skidmark. The second part with Hookwolf, I did get warned about using too much force, but was also told that my actions were allowed, just not preferred. Both times were ruled self-defense.

    "I did get fined for littering, though," she finished. "And misdemeanor property damage." That got some chuckles from the audience.

    "Who'd win in an arm wrestling match, you or Glory Girl?" some wag from the crowd called out.

    "Me," she answered with confidence. "We tried once, with Panacea on hand. Glory Girl broke her own arm trying to get mine to move. With Panacea there, she got healed immediately and she isn't likely to try again. S'Okay, though, she's cool about it.

    "Although if someone else wants to try, I'm told we might be able to arrange something."

    = = = = = = = = = = = =​

    From the back of the crowd, a pair of individuals watched the proceedings. A tall young man of African American descent was paired with a smug looking blonde. Both were dressed for the mild day and had been enjoying some coffee from one of the concessions setup near the event.

    "She's one heckuva brute," the young man commented.

    "That she is, Brian," his companion agreed. "Kinda glad our orders are hands off."

    "Any bright ideas, Lisa?" He took a sip of his coffee. Brockton Brews had some of the best coffee in the city, and even its bad coffee was still pretty good. His drink was one of their better ones.

    "A few ideas to stay on her good side," Lisa admitted. "My intuition is having a few problems with her, but based on the available data, I'm working around it." Her power had literally told her that the girl was "The brutiest brute to ever brute!" before moving on to simply saying "Is unstoppable" and then "SDTP Error 418: I'm a teapot!".

    Still, no thinker headache from those, and she had no idea what 'SDTP' meant. She'd worked around the problem a bit by simply treating her as a regular brute at the top end of the scale. So far, it was working. When she'd tried to probe deeper, she got the feeling something was wagging a metaphorical finger at her and going "No, no, no" at her. She didn't like the implications of that. She'd even included that in her report to their boss, who actually called her in for an interview on the matter along with a couple of people she'd never met before. One was a powers-centric researcher, and the other was the scarier than fuck cape bogey lady in the fedora.

    Lisa minded her Ps and Qs, stayed civil, answered their questions honestly and got out with her life. And an extra ten grand for the information. That had made it almost worth it.

    "I mean, when she says she can lift over twelve hundred tons, that's one thing," Brian noted. "It's another to see her picking up a PRT van and setting it back down one-handed and making it look easy."

    Twelve hundred fifty tons not full strength.

    It took ironclad control to not have her triple shot mocha cappuccino exploding out of her cup in the mother of all spit takes.

    Brian, however, had noticed. "Problem?"

    Lisa coughed a couple of times. "My wonderful, helpful trolling intuition just dropped the fact that the twelve hundred tons mentioned is not even close to her full strength."

    "That's... not good."

    "That's horrifying if she goes off the rails," Lisa concluded. "We already know she's insanely invulnerable, shrugs off engineering abominations at road speed like they were annoying and can punch Nazis over half a mile without too much effort. I'd rather have that be a good thing."

    "I think most of the Bay would agree," Brian snarked. "I certainly would. So would Aisha."

    = = = = = = = = = = = =​

    Commander Thomas Calvert, PRT Covert Operations, watched the debut of the new Ward, Juggernaut. The girl couldn't have anything resembling an effective secret identity, given her height and musculature. There were only five other women of similar height and build in the world, and only three of them were capes. Still, the ability to punch something extremely hard and shrug off return fire like it was a squirt gun was useful.

    Shame his orders were to leave the girl alone and not make any recruitment pitches until after her eighteenth birthday. His boss had made what would happen to him crystal clear, and his power had reinforced that. It was how he knew just how invulnerable she really was, and how little they could actually do to stop her once she got moving.

    Shortly after acquiring his powers, he had toyed with the idea of going completely villain. His power would be extremely useful in such an endeavor, but the PRT paid him and his crew well, they had a pretty deep pocket when it came to equipment, and they were allowed to supplement that with funds they seized from criminal endeavors they dealt with. However, the appearance of the meddling, fedora-wearing woman simply telling him "Please don't" was enough to make him shelve the plan indefinitely.

    Life was currently good. He got to cut some problems down to size before they came on the normal PRT's radar by engaging in legally dubious, covert operations. And annoy Emily Piggot, though she wasn't aware of his presence in the city. Yet. He and the woman had never gotten along, even when they were squadmates, and definitely after the fallout from Ellisburg. She'd gotten the medals, he'd gotten a court martial and a plea deal. Annoying, but he admitted to himself it wasn't a completely undeserved result.

    He stopped reminiscing about the "good old days" and turned off the broadcast of the debut.

    "So, Captain? What's the sitrep with the Alcott girl?" he asked his second in command.

    "So far, no other gangs appear to be aware of the girl having triggered," he read off his tablet. "Tattletale suspects, but she's one of ours. We're keeping discreet surveillance on her, but she appears to be aware of our presence." He left unsaid that she had waved directly at the camera they'd been using.

    "We can't expect it to stay that way," Calvert noted.

    "Yes Sir," the captain ordered. "We're still looking for more moles. Jenkins and his crew have black bagged a couple and interrogated them before turning them over to our contacts in NYC."

    "Do your spooks have anything to say?"

    "They figure that it's likely to be less than a week if she goes in for power testing that the Empire and the ABB will want to make a move on the girl," he reported. "Definitely within the month."

    "Very good. What about what's left of the Merchants?"

    "We've destroyed another drug lab, seized some more of their assets. Skidmark is going to be transferred over to New York. DEA and Secret Service want to have some stern words with him."

    Ouch. If the Secret Service wanted to have words with Mr. Mustain…

    "Our money is clean, Sir," the captain added without being prompted. "The counterfeits we've found are very good, possibly from an offshoot of Lazare Cagliostro's ring operating in the US. We've turned them in anonymously to the Treasury Department. The debit cards for the rewards were mailed to an anonymous mail drop per SOP. They were distributed to the various squads, per your orders."

    "Very good." Yes, keep the men well paid and happy. They were all PRT or former Special Warfare operators who had various issues like his. Nothing truly egregious, but those who the tribunals thought were redeemable were here or in other similar positions around the country if not the world.

    Except for the quack they'd sent him as a medical officer. Thomas had shot him himself when the man had been caught torturing prisoners he was supposed to be treating. The sentence he'd escaped by joining Calvert's "merry band of lunatics" was carried out immediately, per his orders.

    Wellington was a much better doctor than Pitter had been anyway, and the men liked him too. Around the few women he had working for him, he was professional and distant. Which they liked.

    "For the moment, Captain," he instructed, "keep tabs on Mush. He may be parahuman, but doesn't seem to be much of a leader. The Empire should be quiet for a few days before they try to get Hookwolf out of PRT detention. Two squads are to receive two days off over the next two weeks, on the usual rotation."

    "Yes, Sir."

    = = = = = = = = = = = =​

    Taylor stomped into the Wards common area and flopped down on the reinforced couch after dispelling her costume, leaving her in her street clothes.

    "That's handy," Vista stated as she appeared in an eye watering and brain itching distortion in the room.

    "Being a part of my power means that no matter how badly it gets damaged, it'll be like new after I dismiss it and re-summon it," Taylor stated. "One of the few nice things about this."

    "You'll always be able to open stuck lids on jars," Dennis quipped as he walked in.

    "It doesn't always work like you think it will," Taylor shot back. "Grip too hard…"

    "Lemme guess," Aegis added. "Ketchup, mayo, or pickles?"

    "Pickles," Taylor replied. "It took me three days to get the smell of dill and vinegar out of my clothes and the kitchen."

    "I did it with mayo," Aegis said. "Not as smelly, but much, much messier. To avoid a repeat, we buy our mayonnaise in squeeze bottles now. We've only broken one of them, and it wasn't me."

    Pretty soon they were all sharing a laugh about mishaps and mischief with their powers. When Miss Militia walked in fifteen minutes later, they were still laughing about something.

    She smiled under her bandanna and decided to give them some more time.
     
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    • 10 - 'Naut Fun
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    • Taylor was sitting with the others around the table in the Wards common area, attending her first official meeting with the rest of the team. It was after school, she'd already gotten her homework done, and she'd simply walked there after school, her stride allowing her to easily cover the distance walking as quickly as someone else jogging.

    "It's been a while since we've had a brick on the roster," Carlos stated, "so it will take some getting used to. I might be rated as a brute, but that's because my powers allow me to keep going when others would be dead. So don't be surprised if the rest of us hide behind you on occasion."

    "I've been told that's kind of a given for higher level brutes. I know things are bad, but are they really that bad?" Taylor asked.

    Missy spoke up. "In the last four years, we've gone from every fourth encounter involving a gun, to almost every other one. Nearly everything outside of PR events involves a weapon of some kind, from chains and clubs to knives and once, a sword," she explained.

    "And because of reasons," Dennis groused, "we're not allowed to have weapons unless they're part of our powers or are nerfed so badly as to be nearly useless. Not even things we're allowed to carry out of costume."

    "Don't remind me," Chris added. "The number of adjustments and changes I had to make were insane. At least Armsmaster didn't tell me to remove my overrides, so I can do more than barely stun a normal person if I need to."

    "I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Carlos said. "Just like I don't know that Dennis has taken and passed all the classes needed to use a wireless taser in the field."

    "It wouldn't work on her," Dennis admitted. "And I have no desire to have my head twisted off like a bottle cap."

    "Or being bent into a piece of modern art," Dean added. "And Vicky's arm is doing fine, Taylor."

    "Good to know," Taylor answered. "So what's going on today?" she asked Carlos.

    "You have several appointments with the power testing wonks, something about seeing if you sink or swim, and any requirements for dealing with water in general."

    Taylor nodded. "Yeah, I want to see if I can still swim. Otherwise, if I don't need to breathe, I'll be walking along the bottom if I'm in the water."

    "It might be a few days before you join us on patrols," Carlos continued. "Your CQC instructors still think you'd cause injuries to normal perps even when trying to be careful. So, your first official duties will be some parahuman assistance requests from the city for knocking down some derelict buildings before they fall on anyone trying to shelter in them. The first one's scheduled for later today. Vista will be along to help keep the debris on site."

    "And answer any questions you might have," Dean added. "She's been a Ward longer than any three of us."

    Taylor nodded. "Sounds good to me." Turning to Vista, she continued. "I do have a few questions, you're likely to have the answers I'm looking for, or at least know where to point me."

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    "Hello, Mr. Brown," Taylor greeted the man in charge of her tests today. "No Doc?"

    "Hello, Taylor. He's busy helping evaluate a new tinker in Pittsburgh," he replied. "Your choice of swimwear is unusual for a young woman, but given your circumstances, it's to be expected."

    Taylor hadn't been able to find any swimwear locally at all in her size, and Parian didn't have any of the specific fabrics she needed to make a good one piece swimsuit for her, so she was wearing a men's 3X dive skin, which actually fit her well, with the spandex allowing it to stretch as her muscles worked. "It is what it is," the towering young woman admitted. "So what are we doing today?"

    "Basic swimming evaluation, to see if you can," Roger read off his clipboard, "along with seeing if you need to breathe while underwater. We've set an initial time limit of two minutes on that, which we'll extend if appropriate as we do our tests. Shall we begin?"

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Taylor barely noticed the cooler water of the pool as she stepped in, not wanting to jump in or dive in, lest her impact with the bottom put a hole in it. Or worse, her abrupt passage through the water emptying the pool into the surrounding room. Standing in the shallow end, the water almost came up to her hips.

    "Try floating," Roger instructed from the observation booth.

    Taylor'd read about the problems more muscular people had while swimming, namely having to work harder to stay afloat because muscles were denser than water and had negative buoyancy. She was rather pleasantly surprised when she could just lay back and didn't have to do anything to stay floating on the surface.

    "Interesting," Rogers stated from the booth. "OK, on to basic swimming strokes."

    She took care not to kick off at all, and began a lazy front crawl to the other end of the pool.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    "OK, it's safe to say that you've passed the PRT's basic swimming certification, making you eligible for working on watercraft and being the prerequisite for taking advanced swimming courses," Roger said. "Well done. Your certificate will be in your mailbox in a few days."

    "So we're moving onto the 'see if I need to breathe' part of things?" she asked, noticing the two rescue divers that had joined them.

    "Very observant," Roger noted drily. "If you'd care to climb into the deep end and tread water for a bit, we'll begin the next part."

    It wasn't long before Taylor was walking around on the bottom of the deep end of the pool, grinning like an idiot.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    "And now, a suggestion from one of our remote observers," Roger said. "They'd like you to walk to the other side of the pool where one of the rescue divers is standing without going around, and not getting wet. Okay, wetter."

    Taylor arched an eyebrow at the request and did as instructed. Her second step took her out over the edge of the pool and into the water…

    Which appeared to be as solid as a rock when she placed her foot on it. Grinning like a maniac, she continued walking to the other side, achieving her goals of making it to the other side without getting wet again.

    Awesome!

    How much could she lift and carry while doing this?

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    It hadn't taken long after the tests were done that Taylor donned her costume officially for the first time, and joined Vista at the waiting area for the motor pool.

    "Our van should be ready in a few minutes," Vista said. "Something about making sure they've got one that you can actually sit in."

    "Yeah," Juggernaut replied. "Apparently safety regs won't let me just sit on the floor. So a couple of vans have had the seating modified so they can swap in something appropriate, just in case I need a ride."

    "Even though there's nothing around here that could really hurt you," Vista offered.

    "I think it's more likely they're concerned that if I'm not properly strapped in, I might behave like a roll of steel and go through anything in my way if they brake or turn hard," Juggernaut added.

    "Though if your goal was to stay in the van, could anything stop you from staying in the van?" Vista asked.

    "I think my powers have a movement component," she answered after some thought. "Did you see the question some wag on PHO posted?"

    "About if you had wanted some jelly beans, and some random villain had stolen all the local stock and destroyed the facility where they made them, what would your power do?" Missy answered. She knew who the wag was.

    "I'm pretty sure my power would lock onto the closest bag of the jelly beans I wanted, and so long as I was moving towards that location, or wherever the bag got moved to, literally nothing could stop me or prevent me from my goal of grape and licorice jelly beans," Taylor said, and then saw the look on Missy's face.

    "Yuck, how could you like licorice jelly beans?"

    "How could you like sour apple?"

    "How'd you know that?"

    "Dean told me not to touch the jelly beans in the dish in the Wards kitchen area. He also told me what flavor they were, and whose they were."

    Their grand debate over which was the best (and worst) jelly bean flavor would have to wait as their ride over to the Docks had arrived.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Taylor knew very well who was meeting them over at the site where they wanted the buildings demolished.

    She never thought she'd be looking down at Zephron, one of the Union's foremen, a friend of her father, and one of the largest men she'd ever met, even a little. Not without being on some sort of elevated platform. Yet here the two of them were, standing on level ground and she could see the top of his head.

    "Juggernaut, Vista? Thanks for coming out," the massive black man said. "We've got a number of condemned warehouses in this block that need to come down in a controlled fashion. We've marked them with a bright orange X." He pointed towards the closest building in question.

    "We've made sure that no one's in there or has moved in here over the last couple of weeks, ever since the city actually condemned the things," Zephron continued. "The buildings haven't had anything in them for years, according to our records and as complete an inspection we can make. So they're free to come down."

    "Controlled fashion, Hmm?" Juggernaut mused. "Got any heavy steel cable or equivalent chain?"

    "I think we've got a couple of miles of some one inch wire rope," Zephron said after thinking a bit. "I can have it over here in twenty minutes."

    "Can you see the warehouse where it's stored from here?" Vista asked.

    Zephron grinned, and pointed. "Building seven. I'll warn them you're coming."

    - - - - - - - - - - - -​

    Thanks to some horribly abused space-time, Juggernaut had picked up one massive spool of wire rope and carried it back to the work site. She walked around the outside of the first building, and then looked inside. Nodding to herself, she began by tying the steel cable around any internal supports under the supervision and advice of one of the Dockworker engineers.

    "I'm ready," she radioed back to Vista.

    "Expanding the space around the warehouses now," Vista replied, and the area was surrounded by a visible distortion. "It's stable."

    An air horn sounded three times, its blasts sounding muted as if at a great distance. With that, she gave the already taut wire rope a good hard yank. With a loud crunch, the interior support beams came out and she started collecting the now slack wire rope. The roof structure began creaking and groaning before succumbing to gravity, its rusted framing giving way and collapsing. She gave the closest wall to the side of the building she was on a good, hard shove, fully expecting her hands to punch through.

    Instead the whole wall moved inwards off its foundation, scraped slightly across the ground, and fell over, the impact triggering the partial collapse of the sides of the building. Another good shove on the opposite end, and the building was down.

    "Building number one down, moving onto the next one," she radioed. "Everything fell down pretty much into the building's footprint."

    "Excellent. Move onto the next building."

    And so Juggernaut and Vista proceeded to do the next building. There was a twang as the central supports were pulled out, and the roof collapsed nearly immediately since the shock wave from the first building coming down had weakened it considerably

    Things got considerably more exciting when a beam penetrated the floor of the building – something it should not have been able to do, since the building was supposed to have had a solid floor – and a lot of something buried under the building's floor detonated.

    The ensuing explosion was spectacular.
     
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    • 11- 'Naut-E Naughty 1 New
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    • Emily Piggot was finishing up with her work, getting ready to call it a day, when something rattled her windows only seconds before she actually heard a weirdly muffled but very substantial BOOM.

    She picked up her phone and hit one of the speed dial buttons. "Ops, this is Piggot. What the fuck was that?"

    "We're just getting reports in from Vista, Ma'am," the officer manning the phones down in the operations center stated. "Something in one of the buildings Juggernaut and Vista were helping demolish exploded. Based on the size, there was a heck of a lot of it. BBPD Bomb Squad, FDBB, PRT and Protectorate are responding. And the two closest hospitals are prepping for casualties."

    "Thank you," Director Piggot answered. "Let me know if there are further developments."

    "I can tell you that Vista's unharmed," he answered. "We're waiting for word about Juggernaut. Is that all, Ma'am?"

    She thanked him again before hanging up. "Well, it's a good thing I'm salaried," she muttered. "I don't have to worry about authorizing my own overtime."

    = = = = = = = =​

    Somewhat closer to the blast, Max had retired to his penthouse suite, adjacent to his office. Dragon had made good on her word, replacing the damaged panes of glass with something better, and he only had to pay for the cost of the materials, which were at Dragon's rate.

    He also, in the privacy of his mind, got to thumb his nose at the heroes, which made the situation for him a win-win one. He got the windows replaced relatively cheap, and he got to stick it to the Protectorate.

    He'd changed into his bathrobe and favorite slippers and stepped to his wet bar, intending to have a quick drink before showering, when the building shook, rattled and swayed slightly, almost causing a couple of bottles to spill. Then he heard the god-awful racket from the explosion and the echoes off the hills and buildings.

    His phone played a specific incoming ring tone. "Anders here," he answered.

    "Someone just set off a huge amount of explosives in the Docks," Victor stated succinctly. "Sources say a couple of Wards were helping with demolishing a set of four derelict buildings in the area. Considering the blast looked weird and strangely distant, I think Vista was involved, and Juggernaut was sighted heading that way by some of the rank and file."

    Max thought for a moment. "Well, we'll find out just how durable she really is," he finally said. "There's being bulletproof – which is fairly commonplace – and then there's taking a building full of explosives to the face."

    "True," Victor answered. "Assuming she was close enough; I'll try to check. Also, the location is nowhere near where we, the Merchants or the ABB had anything set up. More towards the Ship Graveyard, closer to the DWA if it isn't one of their properties."

    Max thought for a moment. He knew something of the history of the Docks, and what they did in the World Wars. And what was shipped out of the harbor at wharfs that were far away from everything else. "That's some good news at least. I've got a job for you. Grab one of the really good sniffers from the labs here, and go around our buildings in the Docks. Not immediately, but I'd like to know if there's anything else buried under our buildings besides water, sewer and power."

    "What should I have it set up for?" Victor asked.

    "Explosives from about 1930 to the present day. And anything else you think could cause us problems."

    = = = = = = = =​

    Lung has been relaxing with a cup of tea in one of his businesses, in this case a warehouse in the Docks, having actually taken care of some legitimate paperwork. Namely, payroll and taxes. A few of his non-gang member, non-Asian employees were busy doing their jobs when there was a tremendous bang, and the entire building shook.

    Work came to a sudden stop as someone had the presence of mind to sound the horn for an emergency, which would have people reporting to designated areas to make sure everyone was OK and finding out what had happened.

    Then there was a secondary impact, as if something heavy had landed hard near the building.

    "Hey, Boss!" one of the foremen yelled. "We got a cape out here!"

    Kenta raised an eyebrow, and got up to go inspect the situation.

    - - - - - - - -​

    When he arrived on the scene, he noticed there was now a long furrow in the facility's outdoor area, about nine meters long, shallower at one end and much deeper at the other. Familiar with the phenomenon, he looked back along the line of the furrow and saw the rising cloud from the explosion that had happened all too close.

    Then he turned his attention to the furrow. Embedded in the deeper end of it was the new Ward, Juggernaut. Who was, for some reason, holding a piece of twenty-five millimeter wire rope, something they had a lot of in stock in the warehouse. Two of the foremen, each having donned the appropriate safety gear, climbed down to check on the girl.

    They stopped when she began talking.

    "Well, that was – interesting."

    "Are you OK?" one of the men asked.

    "Oh yeah," she replied. "A little surprised at suddenly being somewhere else, but I'm not even dizzy."

    "Do you need any help getting out?" the second man asked.

    "I don't think so," Juggernaut stated. "You may want to get clear of the hole first, though. No telling what might come loose."

    Both men nodded, and climbed out of the hole. "We're clear!" the first called back.

    Taylor freed her right arm, which caused some bits of rock to go flying a short distance, then her left arm. She then pushed herself up and simply walked out of the hole, shaking off a few bits of concrete as she went.

    "OK, I'm not out near the Ship Graveyard anymore," she muttered as she looked around. "From the sign I'm on the property of Smith Steel & Supply."

    Kenta walked up and noted the unusual feeling of having to look up at someone. "You're correct," he said, wearing a polite smile on his face. "Ken Smith," he said, offering his right hand for a handshake. "Or Kenta Sumisu, if you prefer."

    "Juggernaut," she said, carefully shaking the man's hand. "But you probably already knew that. Sorry about this. I was demolishing a set of old warehouses in the DWA yard, and something happened."

    One of the men who'd gone down to check on her came up and said something quietly to Mr. Smith. He nodded, and the man went back to getting everyone else back to work.

    "It appears something under one of the buildings you were demolishing exploded," he explained. "A lot of something."

    Juggernaut nodded. "Excuse me, I'd better call in…" her voice trailed off as she removed the remains of her phone from her utility belt and winced. "Do you have a phone I can use?"

    "You can use the one up in reception," Kenta said. He sympathized with the girl, because Lee had to keep a box of phones on hand, as his never survived some of his more violent actions, either.

    = = = = = = = =​

    Vista looked over the destruction. When the first bang had sounded, she immediately expanded the warped space as much as she could as fast as she could, and immediately regretted that her teammate was still only about fifty yards from the building when the rest of the explosives went off.

    She could see the vapor front of the shockwave as a lot of explosives (not that she knew what it was at the time) under the building went off. It took all her concentration to maintain the rapidly expanded space; if she didn't it meant that Zephron and the Union guys would get badly hurt and she was a hero and tried her hardest to keep them safe.

    Fortunately, she only had to hold the warp for a couple of minutes as the various pieces of structural steel came down inside the warped area. When the last of the debris hit, she slowly collapsed the area which nicely gathered up all the debris into the original area around the four buildings, which had been thoroughly if not so neatly demolished.

    "What the fudge was that?" Zephron had shouted while Vista was containing the blast and debris.

    "Coulda been some explosives left behind by the Teeth?" Kurt suggested.

    "We searched the buildings three times," the safety guy present said. "Including an hour before we started. The only thing we had a hit on was nitrates, but that building had been used to store fertilizer in the fifties and sixties."

    "Then it must have been something under them," Zephron stated.

    "Better think faster about how to explain this, because here comes the Union first responders, along with half of the emergency vehicles in Brockton Bay," Kurt stated. "And he is going to want to know where his daughter is, just like Armsmaster is going to want to know where his Wards are."

    "Still have one of them right here."

    "Not helping."

    Vista listened to something coming in over her Wards phone. "Juggernaut's been found," she reported. "and she's OK. She landed over at Smith Steel & Supply. She had to use their phone to call in, because hers got wrecked."

    Kurt whistled. "That's about three, maybe four miles away?"

    Zephron thought for a moment. "Sounds about right," he added.

    "She must have left the area faster than I could expand it," Vista admitted. "I think I had that much between us and the blast, and I had a mile between us and the building to start with."

    "And our hearing thanks you," Zephron added. "Instead of having burst eardrums despite hearing protection, we just got a loud boom and a thump."

    "Our ears would have been the least of our problems," noted Kurt.

    - - - - - - - - - -​

    Soon, the site was swarming with first responders. EMTs made sure no one was hurt or had suffered any damage to their ears or lungs. The fire department was putting out some secondary fires around the blast site. Half of the police were taking statements, while the bomb squad people and Armsmaster were trying to identify what had happened and what, exactly, had gone off and in what quantity. The rest of the police and the Protectorate were maintaining a security cordon around everything.

    Eventually, the van that had been sent to pick up Juggernaut returned, bearing the wayward Ward. And about a yard of wire rope, which was collected as evidence.

    Shortly after that, Armsmaster was looking at both Vista (who was standing) and Juggernaut (who was sitting). "First, good job on limiting the damage and injuries," he stated, then turned his gaze on Juggernaut. "And it is a good thing you are apparently as invulnerable as Alexandria. A large amount of old explosives was under that building."

    "Being hard to hurt was the only reason I was standing there. The DWA guys still didn't want me close enough for a wall to fall on me during the initial tug."

    "And the required buildings all got demolished," Vista added. "Though we'll probably get in trouble with the Youth Guard."

    "It can be proven that this was an accident," Armsmaster stated. "I suspect once the source of the explosives is determined, the Youth Guard's ire will be focused in that direction, along with the BBPD's, FBI's, MSHA's and OSHA's. Along with ours.

    "I also have to inform you that when you get back to base, you both have mandatory appointments in medical," Armsmaster said. "You will also be off duty for forty-eight hours, per standard procedure."

    "Now that sucks," Vista grumped.

    = = = = = = = = = =​

    Taylor eventually arrived home from her somewhat exciting first day as a Ward. Her father's truck was in evidence in the driveway, and she could smell some Italian take-out that must have been delivered not all that long ago. Probably only minutes.

    She walked in the back door and kicked her shoes off, putting them on the mat reserved for them. "Dad, I'm home!" she called into the house.

    "I'm on the phone, Taylor." he yelled back.

    She made her way into the house, and found her father talking on the phone. The table hadn't been set yet, so she started getting out the plates and silverware, easily balancing everything on one hand. Soon, the table was set, the drinks were on, and her father was off the phone.

    "Ah, the lady of the hour," Danny said with a smirk. "The PRT called, said you were fine, despite the fact you got shot more than three miles through the air and landed at Smith Steel & Supply."

    "Yeah," Taylor answered. "Was more embarrassed about the trench I left in their yard when I hit. Offered to fill it back in and everything, but Mr. Smith said it was fine, his men would take care of it. A PRT van picked me up."

    "There's probably some kind of issue with the maintenance people, who're unionized," Danny mused. "He's trying to avoid trouble, after all."

    Danny also knew who the owner, Ken Smith, really was. There were only so many Japanese men over six foot tall, after all. It hadn't taken long to figure out his secret, especially as Danny had negotiated a deal with the ABB to keep them out of the Docks, or at the very least, reduce tensions. Which almost made him snicker about the civilian ID of Lung avoiding trouble at one of his legit businesses, instead of dealing with it in his normal incendiary fashion. He was finding it was a recurring pattern with the man, which amused him even more.

    If there's anything Danny was an expert at, Taylor thought, it was which businesses were union and which weren't. He'd probably trained or met almost all of the reps and stewards in the region. "That's fair. I don't want to take any work away from 'em."

    "That's nice to hear," her father said. "But really, we could do with fewer capes wrecking things."

    "Like old, condemned warehouses?" Taylor asked with a grin.

    "We're looking to get rid of those," Danny admitted. "I'm talking more about utility substations, first responders and their equipment, their stations, roads, businesses, etc."

    "I'm afraid I'm not going to be one of those capes," Taylor admitted. "Something tells me that when I get going, everything around me is going to suffer."

    "I'll just have to trust you to do what you can to choose your opponents and venues wisely."

    = = = = = = = = = =​

    Everyone in the PRT who'd been involved in the initial response to the explosion was seated around the table in conference room two. Emily Piggot waited for the last person to arrive, the doctor on duty from the medical section, who entered holding two patient folders, and then the meeting began.

    "What happened?" she asked in a tired voice.

    "Initial investigations revealed that a large amount of aging explosives were detonated when they were struck hard enough by a steel beam penetrating the concrete," the PRT captain reported. "The sniffers picked up traces of the byproducts of both TNT and ammonium picrate. Armsmaster is still doing his workup on things, but his initial estimates are in tons of the stuff."

    "Tons of touchy, old explosives were buried under a building?" Emily almost shouted. "I shudder thinking about what else may be buried under some of those warehouses."

    "A combination of explosive D and TNT was in use by the Navy in the early years of World War Two, and Brockton Bay was a major loading point before heading up to Halifax to join a convoy," the man stated. "It fits the composition and probable age. Wartime expediency might explain the burial, but not why it wasn't cleaned up later."

    Another PRT officer continued. "The DWA conducted all required safety measures, including a series of surveys with sniffers and visual inspections. The building had been used to store fertilizer in the past, and they had picked up higher nitrate concentrations on all three passes. If it wasn't deliberate, it was an almost perfect coincidence."

    Emily Piggot sighed. "So the presence of the explosives was masked by past exposure to fertilizer. How long until the technicians have a detailed report on things?"

    "Four days," the officer continued. "The only buildings damaged were the four the DWA were taking down, thanks to Vista's quick thinking. Juggernaut got thrown clear, and landed three miles away at Smith Steel & Supply. She hit the yard behind the building hard enough to leave a thirty foot trench that reached ten feet deep. She hauled herself out, and used the business' phone to call in because hers was destroyed. They're not filing a claim for the damage and are taking care of it themselves."

    "That's a bit of a silver lining," Emily muttered. "Does she have a replacement yet?"

    "Given to her before she left for home, ma'am."

    "Also, there were no injuries reported by the DWA or the Wards," the captain stated. "Again, this can be attributed to Vista's quick thinking and Juggernaut's invulnerability. The latter was blown clear of the explosion and impacted three miles away and was still unharmed. Power testing claims that probably wouldn't have happened if she'd been braced against it; she'd have just stood there and been just as unharmed."

    The physician present nodded. "No physical injuries on either of them," he said, tapping his folders. "No deaths, casualties, or serious injuries attributable to the incident reported by any provider in the city. Vista reported some minor ringing in her ears due to the proximity of the blast, which was reported from nearly all the people present, despite all of them using appropriate hearing protection. She's to be commended for her actions. And Juggernaut is about as easy to injure as Alexandria. No temporary tinnitus from the blast, no physical injuries of any kind. She didn't even report any unconsciousness or disorientation aside from some understandable surprise, and no vision problems, either. Both will be checked again when they come off their mandatory recovery periods.

    "I also need to invest in some sturdier examination tables, since both of them have begun to strain under Juggernaut's weight."

    "Put it on a requisition, I'll approve it and submit it," Emily said. "So we'll find out more when Armsmaster finishes his analysis, and the various agencies involved publish their initial findings in four days?"

    "We should know by tomorrow afternoon who the DWA bought the property from," the captain concluded. "Tracing back to possible sources of the materials might take longer."

    "We'll revisit this matter in four days," Emily stated, and the meeting broke up.

    "It's a good thing that girl's invulnerable," she muttered. "She also appears to be a trouble magnet, so she's going to need it."
     
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