Elsewhere…
"Welcome."
Taylor looked around for the source of the voice. She was in a chamber that was very, very red, in every hue, shade, tint, and tone imaginable. Red stone for the floor, walls and ceiling; red crystal for columns, red fabrics with red designs for the banners, red armor on the red figure sitting on a red throne. Even the cloud of fractal sparkles floating near the throne was red. Red, red, red, red, red!
"I prefer to call it crimson."
Her mind came to a halt, and she turned bodily to face the figure on the throne who had greeted her. "Err, hello. I don't mean to be rude, but where am I, and who are you?"
"Know, child of Annette, that I am Cyttorak, Tyrant Overlord of Strength," the red figure sitting on the throne stated. His appearance was what Taylor thought would be appropriate for an actual devil – red skin, dark red hair, red glowing eyes, red horns and all the muscles. Only wearing somewhat normal boots instead of having cloven hooves.
"Occasionally, it pleases me to empower people and watch what happens, directing them to some end.
"Through your mother," the entity continued,
"I discovered the machinations of another that would lead to the destruction of not only this world, but every version of it in this multiversal strand. I cannot allow that, for reasons that are my own.
"Now, for the reason I have summoned your mind here," Cyttorak continued. He gestured to the cloud-thing.
"The being that has connected to you to grant you powers and I are having a bit of disagreement, and we need you to decide the matter for us."
[Affirmation][Assertation.]
Okay, so the cloud of fractal sparkles can speak. Sort of.
"Yes," Cyttorak answered the sparkling figure.
"You've already told me that my design skills suck. I am a god of unstoppable strength, not of art. What I have provided in the past has worked sufficiently well."
[Data][Suggestion]
"What do I care about presentation? It is a most capital suggestion, though." Cyttorak looked at Taylor.
"How do you want to appear?"
That's what they were arguing about?
In front of her floated two images. One was her wearing a rust and blood red sleeveless bodysuit, with a hemispherical helmet that, quite frankly, looked goofy. The outfit had bands of some material around her upper and forearms, and some knuckle dusters, along with a very heavy pair of boots.
The other image was her wearing a variation on Alexandria's costume. Again, it was in rust and blood red, but instead of the hemispherical helmet it was a helmet that fitted her head, with a mirrored visor that concealed her face and a shorter back that allowed her hair to hang freely. The body suit covered her entire body, with gauntlets covering her hands and lower forearms. The boots were more feminine. Like Cyttorak's, they were also practical.
"With all due respect," Taylor said, "I like portions of both designs. For instance, the bodysuit and boots of the first version, and the helmet and gauntlets of the other. I'm assuming that these will be as indestructible as I am?"
"They would be a manifestation of my power," Cyttorak answered.
"So yes, no mortal agency could destroy them. You can easily survive having one of your world's nuclear weapons going off underneath you, and at best it would inconvenience you, and your costume would be intact. You don't need to breathe or eat, although you may choose to enjoy either or both. You are conceptually unstoppable. Once you start moving towards a goal, you cannot be stopped by any outside force."
"That's good to know," Taylor muttered. "So even if I can't swim, I won't drown." She'd find out if she had to be physically moving towards a goal for the unstoppable part to apply. Given that the being talking to her was a "god of strength," she figured it would be limited like that. If not, the possibilities presented…
"The only thing you need to watch out for are attacks which affect your mind," Cyttorak continued.
"What my partner here says you call master and stranger powers. Your helmet should protect you from those, but for some reason, that which fastens it to the rest of the suit is the weakest point. It can therefore be removed, which renders you vulnerable."
"So don't get in close to the Simurgh, important safety tip," Taylor snarked.
"Indeed. Though if it gets in your way, you will triumph. And the destruction will be glorious!" Cyttorak cleared its throat.
"Anyway, with the matter of your costume settled, go forth and let those who oppose you learn what unstoppable really means."
= = = = = = = = = =
Brockton Bay
Squealer shook herself awake. She'd hit something solid, and the airbags had deployed. Her latest creation was currently wrapped around that something.
She could hear the groaning of metal as if something was doing severely rude things to her truck, followed by some very sulfurous swearing (from her own mouth) as the tinkertech enhanced metals in the frame began to deform. Metal shrieked as it was bent, twisted, and torn as if whatever they'd hit was angry and probably the brutieist brute to ever brute.
Hmm. Might have a bit of a concussion there. She'd have to take it easy for a couple of days, except her buttmunch of a boyfriend probably wouldn't let her.
The dash and console in front of her began to move as whatever she'd hit continued
tearing her truck in half.
Note to self: Avoid trying to drive through unknown things.
And then the largest pair of gloved hands she'd ever seen managed to push through the steel and plastics and heaved. With a groan from the metal around her and a growl from the thing freeing itself from the wreckage of her truck, it tore down the middle, exposing her to the wintry weather and possibly the largest parahuman she'd ever seen, even bigger than Manpower or Trainwreck.
"
There you are," the voice of the figure clad in blood and rust red growled, its face obscured by a mirrored faceplate. Another heave and the former truck became a temporary piece of modern art. "C'mere," the voice muttered, and a hand the size of her head reached for her.
Squealer panicked and pulled her hog leg shotgun out of its holster and fired both barrels. Sure, it wasn't lead shot, just a collection of number one size rubber pellets, but it should startle the obvious cape into pulling back and not grabbing her like picking up a burrito.
Did it startle the cape? Hell, yes. However, it had the exact opposite of the desired effect. With a roar, the cape ripped her now defunct project in half like it was a sheet of paper, fully exposing her to the daylight and cold air.
She finally got a clear look at the cape she'd hit. The main thing that struck her first was all the red. Sleeveless bodysuit in rust and blood red, with a visored helmet, the cape's mouth exposed. Gauntlets on both hands, a rather heavy belt, and boots that looked like they could stomp Behemoth into a hole in the ground.
The cape spat out a rubber pellet. "That wasn't very nice," the cape growled in possibly the deepest female voice Squealer had ever heard. "Now, are you going to climb out peacefully, or am I going to have to extract you forcibly from what's left of your truck?"
"Well, hello again!" Assault chirped. "Funny meeting you here."
"Hello, Assault," Taylor answered. "Do you want her, too?"
"Not in the way that could be implied from that question," Assault snarked back. "But I would like to take her off your hands. She's a person of interest in several vehicular crimes and a whole mountain of moving violations."
It was while they were talking that Squealer tried to sneak away. Unfortunately, she had forgotten about the squad of PRT troopers that normally accompanied any of the heroes while they were actively pursuing a villain. She took three steps before she heard the familiar sound of confoam sprayers opening up.
Unfortunately for them, both Assault and Taylor were standing too close. Fortunately, while they were trapped they weren't fully encased in the stuff like Squealer was.
"I hate it when this happens," Assault said in casual conversation. "So, do you have a cape name yet? Or do I put you down as Bruty McBruteface? Or maybe Brutilla?" The smile he had told Taylor he wasn't being serious.
Taylor sighed. "As much as I know this will be a mistake, call me Juggernaut." With that, she decided that she didn't want to be encased in containment foam, so she started moving towards the sidewalk. The hardened foam didn't stick to her, so it was a matter of carefully pulling it apart and getting out of the street.
Assault watched from where he was still trapped. "Huh, don't see that every day."
Squealer wished she'd seen it, whatever "it" was. At least she'd get some rest. And maybe a burrito.
- - - - - - - - - -
The PRT officers took Taylor's statement and made note of her cape name for the official record. Armsmaster had arrived halfway through the ordeal, and had begun taking various sensor readings around the site before he joined a rather slimy Assault and much cleaner (and apparently costumed) Taylor in the large PRT van.
"So, what happened?" he asked.
"Got hit by that thing on my way back to my apartment," she said. "I heard some commotion ahead of me, and when I looked up, it was too late. I extricated myself from the wreck, and was going to do the same to the driver when she pulled a gun and shot me. Startled me more than anything else, and then I ripped the thing in half and shook the driver loose." She took a sip from the cup of water she had at hand before continuing.
"Assault showed up soon about then, and the driver tried to make a break for it, so we all got foamed. I walked out of that because being stuck in the middle of the road is asking for trouble," Taylor continued. "I decided to stay put off to the side until things settled down."
Armsmaster nodded. "And the costume?"
"Power provided. It's as damage resistant as I am."
"I like the color," Assault commented from the shower in the van. "It's so… red!"
Armsmaster glared in Assault's direction, and Taylor could imagine the grin on the irrepressible cape's face. "How did you get out of the containment foam?"
"I decided I didn't want to be trapped in it and walked out," Taylor answered. "It apparently doesn't stick to my costume – or my forcefield, either. And I'm stronger than it is."
The tinker frowned. "That was something taken into account during the design process. There should not have been any way for you to get any leverage once it hardened."
Taylor sighed. "With all due respect, Sir," she said, "in addition to me not being encased, consider what the term juggernaut means and take it to the extremes. It appears that if I'm trying to move towards something, I can't be stopped."
"That's very disturbing," Assault added. "What if it applies to things that aren't actual movement?"
"I'd like to try and find out," Taylor answered. "In a controlled, safe environment with a limited audience. Can I go now? Or are you going to run me back to the PRT building so I can dismiss the armor and make my class?"
= = = = = = = = = =
Tony's Pizza was a place both Danny and Taylor enjoyed. It was a small family-run pizza place that also had a selection of very good and relatively inexpensive Italian food on their dine-in menu. It also did business with all the cape groups in the city and was considered one of the neutral locations, if only because it kept the pizza deliveries coming.
As such, for a small consideration, you could reserve a room and have a decent amount of privacy for your dinner. It wasn't in too much demand for various reasons, but it was there.
Tonight, it hosted the Heberts.
"And I've got connections," Danny smugly admitted while he and Taylor waited for their appetizer order. "So, I heard you had an interesting afternoon."
"Is it all over the internet?" Taylor groused.
"Mostly the aftermath," Danny admitted. "Though people are worried about the girl who got hit."
"I find that surprising. Probably worried as an afterthought."
"Actually," Danny said, "Reave made a statement on social media about that, saying that the girl who'd been hit had been taken to the PRT's medical clinic for observation. That seemed to quiet most people.
"Also, nice costume," he added. "How long did it take to make?"
Conversation stopped for a moment as the waiter came in with their appetizer order before finding out what entrée they wanted to order.
"Actually, it was provided by my power," Taylor admitted when they were alone again. "Dad, what can you tell me about what Mom got up to in college? I – heard some things recently."
"That's something I'm not quite sure about," Danny admitted. "I mean, I know the generalities, but not all of the specifics. You know she fell in with Lustrum's group, right? And that I got her out. Two days before Lustrum was sentenced to the Birdcage, her lawyer delivered a package to your mother. Whatever it was, she didn't want her lieutenants getting their hands on it, but she didn't trust the PRT either. Apparently leaving the gang didn't stop Lustrum from trusting your mother."
"Kinda makes some sense," Taylor muttered, "given what they let Shadow Stalker get away with."
"I never found out what was in the box," Danny continued, "only that your mother told me it was better that I don't know. She admitted that it was an artifact of some kind after a good deal of badgering, and that Lustrum's lieutenants could have used it to cause a great deal of trouble."
"While we were cleaning up after Mom's funeral," Taylor said, "I found a box in her stuff in the basement. It contained a fist-sized ruby. Not my fist size then, but my fist size
now." She held it up so Danny could have a reference. "It had a few scraps of paper with some indecipherable writing on it, and the ruby had an internal glow. It said something to me when I touched it, something about me not being ready. And then doing something to me when I was having difficulty carrying things up the stairs, making it easier for me to do that. I thought I'd imagined it, but after today I'm not so sure."
"I think I'll want to take a look at that when you move back in," Danny said after some thought. "The renovations should be done by this coming Tuesday, so we should be able to get your stuff out of your little apartment and back into your room that evening."
Then the food arrived, and they had more important things to take care of.
