- Location
- North Wales
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Othala only has one eye. She wears an eyepatch on the other, and she takes pains to cover that patch with her hair when out and about, so it's not likely a costume affectation.
No good deed... (Worm AU)
- Thread starter LD1449
- Start date
Othala only has one eye. She wears an eyepatch on the other, and she takes pains to cover that patch with her hair when out and about, so it's not likely a costume affectation.
Think ya forgot the Threadmark but might be my computer acting up.
Dragonskyt
Ashen one, hearest thou my voice, still?
- Location
- Kiln of the First Flame
Good job portraying Kayden's insecurities.
Shame they never seemed to come to the conclusion, that maybe they acted first and Taylor second.
Well, I guess that's assholes for ya. Always thinking they're in the right.
Shame they never seemed to come to the conclusion, that maybe they acted first and Taylor second.
Well, I guess that's assholes for ya. Always thinking they're in the right.
- Location
- Canada
I'm pretty sure they are aware that it was in revenge (at least Purity acknowledged it), but Taylor still killed their most important players as well as their boss. Also, since it was technically two different attacks, then there is precedent that Apparition will continue going after them. Of course, the best idea would be to just, you know, leave but at the same time they're Nazis which definitely does not rhyme with smart.
- Location
- Versailles
Kayden is truly a tool
Dr. Mercurious
Strangest Person You Know
- Location
- New England
Kayden. Kayden, Kayden, Kayden. I know this is a lot to ask you, but for ONCE in your life, could you NOT BE so fucking STUPID???
- Location
- London
Going after unstable Master that can make Itachi-level mindfuckery...
hehehe
...
Hey, Victor, have you ever seen Skanners?
hehehe
...
Hey, Victor, have you ever seen Skanners?
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
To be fair they don't really know how powerful she is... yet.
- Location
- London
Walking meatgrinder-tank looks in her eyes and instantly dies.
Their leader dies while surrounded by at least a hundred of his followers(including his supernazi bodyguards), and said follwers are in complete panic at whis point.
Main suspect has support from world's greatest Tinker and may already be part of They-Who-Fight-Monsters organisation.
If these facts didn't make them cautios of Tailor, then I wonder how they even survived for this long.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
They're cautious, the thing is, on both occasions, she had surprise on her side. This time, they plan to bring the fight on "their terms" because the consensus in Worm rankings is "Masters are powerful but squishy" If you can get to him, you can kill him. Which is largely true, Heartbreaker, Skitter and Nilbog all had "minions" to hide behind. Get past the minions and there's very little outside of a baseline human to get in your way.
Never underestimate the tunnel vision power of desperation, pride and anger.
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Sadly they were not stupid.And this folks is why the Nazis were defeated....because they were just that fucking stupid.
They were fundamentalistic and the lot of them on the lower levels blindly followed their leaders. You can see the same things happening in any culture/country that has fundamentalistic leaders with a large enough base.
Extremistic traits just make the whole thing more explosive.
Kayden is just introdoctrinated into the nazi world view (that it is everyone else against them).
- Location
- California
It probably helps that this might very well be the first time in a long time that their organization has been actually threatened with destruction. They've been around at least since Marquis' time, which would be around a minimum of 16 years given Amy's age and most likely a lot older. They have enough capes that they outnumber the Protectorate and New Wave combined and the only real reason they haven't taken over the underworld is because of Lung. The concept of something actually threatening their organization as a whole is probably completely alien to them.
They're talking about dealing with her because that's what they've always done since they've had the power to do it in the past. I mean, in this fic Piggot was going to let the Empire goons get away with almost burning Sophia to death because they didn't have enough manpower to take them and Kaiser knew this. That power is quickly slipping through their fingers, and they recognize it, but they don't seem to be understanding what it means for them. So yes, they are behaving idiotically, but it's not just because they're stupid (not to say that they aren't) and more because they don't know any better.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
You, I like you, I kill u last
- Location
- London
Thats fair. For general population of Worm.
Victor is suppoused to be a good tactitian as far as I remember. Then he should've probably acknowledge the fact that Apparition:
1)apparently has her oun way around Master weaknesses. You can't kill, what you can't see.
2)Has "instant lethality" application of power. And also is just in right state of mind to use it on them
3)Is protected by Dragon.
By hey, it's only my grumbling so don't bother yourself with it.
It's apparent by now that they will do it anyway, because Nazis would't have been in this situation if they were smart.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Remember that he's acting on the premise that this girl is going to continue to go after them. If he knew she wasn't he might might decide he shouldn't poke the bear, but... yeah
- Location
- New Zealand
Technically not true. At the start of canon they only had twelve capes to the Protectorate's seven and New Wave's eight. Night and Fog were in Boston and Purity had left. They may have gained Night, Fog and Purity but they've still lost Kaiser and Hookwolf and the majority of their unpowered support.
Khepri14
Thus kindly I scatter...
- Location
- Following the wind
Well now, let's not forget Gesellschaft. These people, if they even survive this upcoming fight, might be desperate enough to call for their help even if it means being subsumed under their leadership. I think Kaiser was the only one who had a problem with Gesellschaft help and that was because it'd interfere with his "rule"(Plus the whole strings attached deal) and he's gone.
So if QAI was including them as well, then technically speaking they still outnumber PRT and NW combined. Of course, right now they're a continent away and not an immediate problem(And may never be if they have the sense to wash their hands of this matter).
Assembler
Rocking the life
Crusader was also afraid of them because he knew what they did to Night and Fog and because he thought they'd try to make him and Purity do what Gesellschaft wanted instead of what Purity and Crusader wanted.
Khepri14
Thus kindly I scatter...
- Location
- Following the wind
Huh, really? I must've forgotten that since Night and Fog had always followed Purity's lead IIRC, at least in Brockton Bay.
Assembler
Rocking the life
It's in Crusader's interlude, which is after they left. He thinks Night and Fog are following Purity only because Gesellschaft wants them to.
4.2
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
4.2
The Protectorate organization as a whole was not the same on the inside as one might think when they were on the outside looking in.
From the outside I'd always pictured everything running smoothly, with simple, clean efficiency. It was an image that was reinforced by capes like Alexandria, Legend, and even Armsmaster.
Everything was under control, at all times.
Stepping past the glass doors and into the belly of the beast though, at best the Protectorate machine could be described as 'Organized Chaos'.
Everywhere someone had something that had to get done yesterday. Every assistant, every investigator, profiler, case worker and coordinator was just a cog in the massive machine that was the conglomeration of various administrations all working to keep this place running in a way that seemed so efficient from the outside.
The Wards program alone had aspects of over a dozen different organizations working in conjunction with each other—family affairs, police, the courts, social service programs, children watchdog groups, the list went on.
The monitor station, what seemed so simple at first glance was something I was rapidly beginning to learn also had to coordinate with more departments and administrations than I could have ever thought and was far more planning intensive too.
It was meant to monitor capes on patrol. But where to assign their patrol? No use patrolling areas where the cops were; that was a waste of resources. Couldn't send capes too far away from PRT backup, so they had to align with patrols, close enough to help at a moment's notice but far enough that they left as few 'blind spots' in the patrol as possible.
Cape designations also came into effect when making the decisions. Velocity could respond faster than Armsmaster in crowded streets and small areas. Give Velocity neighborhoods, back alleys. Give Armsmaster the larger roads, highways where his bike could maneuver through traffic easily. Vista could fold space, give her large swathes of areas that were unpopulated based on times of day. The train yard, the docks, the rooftops at night. If she's on rooftops keep choppers and fliers on hand to help if she's disabled.
The radio frequencies had to be changed and encrypted bi-weekly. The PRT had to coordinate with local radio towers and the companies that owned them to do that. They also had to tap into police broadcasts, and to have a computer program to single out cape activity from all the white noise of regular crime and domestic disturbances.
I was learning all of this, day after day after day, and the reality of how truly massive the Protectorate really was seemed to dawn on me a little more with every new piece of information I digested.
"All gear checked?"
Miss Militia's voice was gentle, calm. A contrast to the chaotic mess I was watching on screen as the PRT men and women donned their equipment for the night.
"Yes ma'am."
Triumph's voice spoke back, the newly minted Protectorate hero visibly examining the strap of his helmet from what I could see on another monitor.
"Hands are still here." Clockblocker wiggled his fingers. "All good to go."
"Funny," Militia drily responded.
"It's a talent. So, Apparition, you there?"
It took me a second to realize he was actually talking to me.
"I—Yeah, yeah I'm here," I answered.
"Don't feel bad," he said. "We all start on monitor duty the first few weeks. You'll be out here with us soon."
He probably wanted that to be reassuring.
It wasn't. I didn't want to be out there with them. Frankly, if I never had to use these eyes again after what I did I'd count myself happy.
"I'm ok." My voice was quiet, almost too quiet for him to hear.
"Enough distractions," Miss Militia rebuked. "Clock, treat this like a regular patrol. No fooling around, no commentary. We're here to show her how we run things normally, not have you trying to 'spice things up.' Am I making myself clear?"
Her voice could have cut through ice, and even the joker that was Clockblocker seemed to get the message.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. You're rolling out in three, double check all the gear you have besides your hands. That's an order."
With the flick of a button the radio was turned off, and Militia swiveled the chair around to look at me, the edges of her eyes crinkling in something that seemed vaguely apologetic.
"Don't listen to him half the time," she said. "He means well, but his way of 'helping' people is by trying to lighten the mood. Any problem that he can't 'joke' away, he tries to ignore."
"Like me killing Kaiser," I ventured.
She nodded, looking at me dead in the eye. "It's the elephant in the room. Many of the Wards, and even some of the heroes, don't really know how to act around you because of it."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"You've noticed. And you're going to keep noticing," she answered flatly. "I know you can read body language details even without having people in the envelope of your power. Their nerves firing. Your file was quite clear.
"Eidetic memory." I said it mostly to myself, recalling it from what I'd read. She nodded anyway.
"I know from experience that the walking on eggshells thing will get annoying long before they actually stop doing it. Clock will joke, Triumph will pretend it didn't happen even as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye, Gallant will try to be your therapist before too long, Aegis will be awkward— Vista is the only one that might treat this with any sort of maturity."
She was being very direct… I wasn't used to direct. I was used to people dancing around the issue. It was… unnerving, but I was glad that I could count on what to expect.
"And the Protectorate heroes?"
She shrugged. "We've all been through things. I can't speak for our transfers, but if you ever want to talk, I'm here, so is Dragon and so is Assault."
"And Armsmaster?"
"You can try, though he might make things worse on accident." She smiled, though it was a little sad. "Even the others that you're not too close with or acquainted with. They'll all listen if nothing else."
I wasn't sure what to say, or if I even could say something. I nodded, for lack of a better response, and she seemed satisfied with that as she turned back to the monitor where the PRT agents were getting into their trucks.
(X)(X)(X)
I watched the patrol through the screen and it was a singularly dull affair, whilst also being very illuminating.
The gang war between the E-88 and the ABB was in full swing from what I could hear on the news whenever I turned on the TV.
The Protectorate agreed, but their patrols weren't about stopping the gang war. Sure, if they found a shootout in the middle of the street, two capes would jump in to make arrests and stop it, but the fact was, they weren't gonna find that kind of action in most cases.
No, what Clockblocker and Triumph were doing tonight was updating their files. Like I could read the firing of a nervous system by looking at someone, they were reading the ebb and flow of this conflict and how things were changing.
Militia brought up the holographic map for me, pointing to the areas as they shifted colors, blue for clear zones, yellow for ones where fighting could occur and red where fighting was actively going on, whilst also signaling out what territory belonged to what gang.
The map that they'd had just yesterday was already different, with territory changing hands, previously yellow clumps of the city turning red and red ones turning yellow.
Both sides were bleeding each other something fierce. While the momentum was squarely in Lung's favor, with the death of so many E-88 heavy hitters and the arrest of so many others, the E-88 simply had MORE people, and MORE territory. Neither Lee or Lung could be everywhere at once.
"See how this works?"
"I do," I answered. "But I'm not sure what it's all supposed to be for. We're updating a map."
"No. We're gathering data," she explained, typing a few more keys. "We're looking at times, patterns, places. Lung, Oni-Lee, and the Empire are smart enough to get in, hit something and run before the Protectorate can gather up all of its capes to respond."
It suddenly clicked in my head. "You want to predict where they'll hit so you can be there in advance."
"Correct." She nodded, smiling a bit. "The key to beating Lung is to hit him hard and fast before he has time to amp up. The key to beating the remaining E-88 capes is to do the same before their cape reinforcements can swing the fight in their favor. Both, need for us to know in advance where they're going to be. The typical response for a Protectorate cape on location is one minute, anywhere in the city. But it's one minute each cape, typically."
"It would take you over ten minutes to get all the Protectorate capes on site," I deduced.
"How many E-88 reinforcements can show up in ten minutes? How much can Lung amp up in ten minutes?" The question was rhetorical, but the answer was clear and the same regardless.
Too goddamn much.
I could see their plan now, and the merits of it, and I recalled just this morning some pundit had been on the TV talking about how the Protectorate wasn't doing its job, that the criminals were being allowed free rein over the city.
In this kind of context though… I was getting a different picture in my mind, one of a slowly tightening noose before it was yanked hard around its victim's neck…
I kept quiet as I watched them continue their patrol.
I didn't watch Triumph, or Clock, not really. My eyes instead followed the readouts of the GPS signals coming from the PRT agents.
Like a protective ring they circled the hero patrol, moving with them, unseen, unheard, but always there ready to jump in at a moment's notice to at least buy time for other hero reinforcements to arrive.
The PRT was a big mechanism, with a hundred moving parts that I'd never really noticed before, that too few people outside had ever noticed before.
Then it was done, and Militia made the call to bring the two back.
"How will I start?" I found myself asking, bringing Militia's eyes towards me.
"Hmmm?"
"How would I start?" I gestured towards the screen. "Officially, I'm not a part of the Protectorate so… how would this work? Do I design my own patrols, tell you in advance? Do I tag along with your patrols?"
"Not up to me," she said. "But if I were a betting woman I'd say it'll be something along the lines of coordinated patrols. For example, if you tell us you're going to patrol the next day, name a place and hour, and suddenly, we don't need to put two capes on one area with another more senior member going solo. We can have one meet up with you, join you and the other two go somewhere else in town. Alternatively, control of your patrol schedule could be given to us by yourself and Dragon, but I doubt either of you would want to surrender so much control."
"Who would be paired up with me?"
"My guess, Armsmaster. He would have the most synergy with you."
That surprised me. "How so?"
"Your ability to use your powers through cameras. If he gave you a way to look through his helmet camera, suddenly, you're a hundred yards back, and his enemy, if he's fighting someone, is taking on one of the best tinkers while also being mastered. And that's just one example off the top of my head. Vista would be another, depending on how your power interacts with hers."
Before I could say anything more, she turned back to the screens addressing Clock and Triumph. "You guys will be rendezvousing with truck E-F. At the corner of Alton and James. Code word is Egypt."
"Got it, ma'am."
The two of them moved through the roads and back alleys with a casual sort of ease that spoke of routine. They barely let themselves be seen by most of the population outside of the moments they were forced to cross a major street; the two of them seemed to know the street layout by memory, winding and weaving their way through the places with the least amount of foot traffic.
I watched the collection of people through their cameras, the ones that gasped and pointed, the ones too distracted to look up from whatever they were doing, even further to those the two heroes weren't entirely aware of. People inside windows, peeking out from behind slightly open doors.
My eyes saw them all.
As the two rounded the last corner to reach James avenue, heading towards Alton road, I suddenly felt something nagging at me… an itch scratching at the back of my thoughts.
Something is wrong.
I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud, not til Militia turned to look at me, eyes much more sharp now. "What?"
"Something's wrong!" I repeated, now more certain. My thoughts felt jarred, disjointed, like a dozen tiny needles were piercing my brain, making it harder to concentrate.
She turned on the radio. "Clock, Triumph. Eyes up, we might have—"
My hand found her shoulder.
"No… Not with them."
Not them… not them, they were outside my range, my influence. No… It was something close, nearby, a datastream that had fallen back into my envelope.
This was too close.
I focused, searching through the dozens of people I hadn't released earlier, shifting through their thoughts fast enough to see them as banal and commonplace before discarding them to search for the anomaly, trying to find it quickly.
Then I did.
The datastream was there, jagged lines of signal and code that only I could read.
Fear, panic, pain.
Their heart was racing, their adrenalin pumping. Senses sharpened to a fine point, sharp enough for me to feel the difference between this one and the dozens of others that were so dull and simple by comparison.
His brain was sending messages, data down to legs that burned; he was running.
The hand now; touch, weight, pressure, coarse brick against his palm. He was leaning on a wall. Spikes of pain through his left side, the other arm, cut, bleeding, tears in the flesh and muscle, arm wasn't moving, bones broken.
He was looking up, his sight coming to focus in the data I could see.
The image was too distant, not enough data. I read through the other sources, everyone I had still in my envelope that I hadn't released, still in range. Gathering more data, finding a clearer picture, trying to see.
My eyes snapped open.
"Outside!" I gasped. "He's outside of the PRT HQ. Across the stree—"
Militia stood up from her seat, hands finding her walkie. "PRT base defense personnel, this is Miss Militia, prepare for—"
I blocked out whatever she was saying, because I read it as the man felt it; another spike of fear-fueled adrenaline, a sound at his back, the feel of hot breath at the nape of his neck.
He turned, eyes wide. I caught nothing but a glimpse of the thing as it loomed in the man's vision before the datastream was snuffed out like it never existed.
And I realized suddenly that I'd just witnessed a murder.
(X)(X)(X)
My thanks go out to @GlassGirlCeci for her beta work on this chapter
The Protectorate organization as a whole was not the same on the inside as one might think when they were on the outside looking in.
From the outside I'd always pictured everything running smoothly, with simple, clean efficiency. It was an image that was reinforced by capes like Alexandria, Legend, and even Armsmaster.
Everything was under control, at all times.
Stepping past the glass doors and into the belly of the beast though, at best the Protectorate machine could be described as 'Organized Chaos'.
Everywhere someone had something that had to get done yesterday. Every assistant, every investigator, profiler, case worker and coordinator was just a cog in the massive machine that was the conglomeration of various administrations all working to keep this place running in a way that seemed so efficient from the outside.
The Wards program alone had aspects of over a dozen different organizations working in conjunction with each other—family affairs, police, the courts, social service programs, children watchdog groups, the list went on.
The monitor station, what seemed so simple at first glance was something I was rapidly beginning to learn also had to coordinate with more departments and administrations than I could have ever thought and was far more planning intensive too.
It was meant to monitor capes on patrol. But where to assign their patrol? No use patrolling areas where the cops were; that was a waste of resources. Couldn't send capes too far away from PRT backup, so they had to align with patrols, close enough to help at a moment's notice but far enough that they left as few 'blind spots' in the patrol as possible.
Cape designations also came into effect when making the decisions. Velocity could respond faster than Armsmaster in crowded streets and small areas. Give Velocity neighborhoods, back alleys. Give Armsmaster the larger roads, highways where his bike could maneuver through traffic easily. Vista could fold space, give her large swathes of areas that were unpopulated based on times of day. The train yard, the docks, the rooftops at night. If she's on rooftops keep choppers and fliers on hand to help if she's disabled.
The radio frequencies had to be changed and encrypted bi-weekly. The PRT had to coordinate with local radio towers and the companies that owned them to do that. They also had to tap into police broadcasts, and to have a computer program to single out cape activity from all the white noise of regular crime and domestic disturbances.
I was learning all of this, day after day after day, and the reality of how truly massive the Protectorate really was seemed to dawn on me a little more with every new piece of information I digested.
"All gear checked?"
Miss Militia's voice was gentle, calm. A contrast to the chaotic mess I was watching on screen as the PRT men and women donned their equipment for the night.
"Yes ma'am."
Triumph's voice spoke back, the newly minted Protectorate hero visibly examining the strap of his helmet from what I could see on another monitor.
"Hands are still here." Clockblocker wiggled his fingers. "All good to go."
"Funny," Militia drily responded.
"It's a talent. So, Apparition, you there?"
It took me a second to realize he was actually talking to me.
"I—Yeah, yeah I'm here," I answered.
"Don't feel bad," he said. "We all start on monitor duty the first few weeks. You'll be out here with us soon."
He probably wanted that to be reassuring.
It wasn't. I didn't want to be out there with them. Frankly, if I never had to use these eyes again after what I did I'd count myself happy.
"I'm ok." My voice was quiet, almost too quiet for him to hear.
"Enough distractions," Miss Militia rebuked. "Clock, treat this like a regular patrol. No fooling around, no commentary. We're here to show her how we run things normally, not have you trying to 'spice things up.' Am I making myself clear?"
Her voice could have cut through ice, and even the joker that was Clockblocker seemed to get the message.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. You're rolling out in three, double check all the gear you have besides your hands. That's an order."
With the flick of a button the radio was turned off, and Militia swiveled the chair around to look at me, the edges of her eyes crinkling in something that seemed vaguely apologetic.
"Don't listen to him half the time," she said. "He means well, but his way of 'helping' people is by trying to lighten the mood. Any problem that he can't 'joke' away, he tries to ignore."
"Like me killing Kaiser," I ventured.
She nodded, looking at me dead in the eye. "It's the elephant in the room. Many of the Wards, and even some of the heroes, don't really know how to act around you because of it."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"You've noticed. And you're going to keep noticing," she answered flatly. "I know you can read body language details even without having people in the envelope of your power. Their nerves firing. Your file was quite clear.
"Eidetic memory." I said it mostly to myself, recalling it from what I'd read. She nodded anyway.
"I know from experience that the walking on eggshells thing will get annoying long before they actually stop doing it. Clock will joke, Triumph will pretend it didn't happen even as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye, Gallant will try to be your therapist before too long, Aegis will be awkward— Vista is the only one that might treat this with any sort of maturity."
She was being very direct… I wasn't used to direct. I was used to people dancing around the issue. It was… unnerving, but I was glad that I could count on what to expect.
"And the Protectorate heroes?"
She shrugged. "We've all been through things. I can't speak for our transfers, but if you ever want to talk, I'm here, so is Dragon and so is Assault."
"And Armsmaster?"
"You can try, though he might make things worse on accident." She smiled, though it was a little sad. "Even the others that you're not too close with or acquainted with. They'll all listen if nothing else."
I wasn't sure what to say, or if I even could say something. I nodded, for lack of a better response, and she seemed satisfied with that as she turned back to the monitor where the PRT agents were getting into their trucks.
(X)(X)(X)
I watched the patrol through the screen and it was a singularly dull affair, whilst also being very illuminating.
The gang war between the E-88 and the ABB was in full swing from what I could hear on the news whenever I turned on the TV.
The Protectorate agreed, but their patrols weren't about stopping the gang war. Sure, if they found a shootout in the middle of the street, two capes would jump in to make arrests and stop it, but the fact was, they weren't gonna find that kind of action in most cases.
No, what Clockblocker and Triumph were doing tonight was updating their files. Like I could read the firing of a nervous system by looking at someone, they were reading the ebb and flow of this conflict and how things were changing.
Militia brought up the holographic map for me, pointing to the areas as they shifted colors, blue for clear zones, yellow for ones where fighting could occur and red where fighting was actively going on, whilst also signaling out what territory belonged to what gang.
The map that they'd had just yesterday was already different, with territory changing hands, previously yellow clumps of the city turning red and red ones turning yellow.
Both sides were bleeding each other something fierce. While the momentum was squarely in Lung's favor, with the death of so many E-88 heavy hitters and the arrest of so many others, the E-88 simply had MORE people, and MORE territory. Neither Lee or Lung could be everywhere at once.
"See how this works?"
"I do," I answered. "But I'm not sure what it's all supposed to be for. We're updating a map."
"No. We're gathering data," she explained, typing a few more keys. "We're looking at times, patterns, places. Lung, Oni-Lee, and the Empire are smart enough to get in, hit something and run before the Protectorate can gather up all of its capes to respond."
It suddenly clicked in my head. "You want to predict where they'll hit so you can be there in advance."
"Correct." She nodded, smiling a bit. "The key to beating Lung is to hit him hard and fast before he has time to amp up. The key to beating the remaining E-88 capes is to do the same before their cape reinforcements can swing the fight in their favor. Both, need for us to know in advance where they're going to be. The typical response for a Protectorate cape on location is one minute, anywhere in the city. But it's one minute each cape, typically."
"It would take you over ten minutes to get all the Protectorate capes on site," I deduced.
"How many E-88 reinforcements can show up in ten minutes? How much can Lung amp up in ten minutes?" The question was rhetorical, but the answer was clear and the same regardless.
Too goddamn much.
I could see their plan now, and the merits of it, and I recalled just this morning some pundit had been on the TV talking about how the Protectorate wasn't doing its job, that the criminals were being allowed free rein over the city.
In this kind of context though… I was getting a different picture in my mind, one of a slowly tightening noose before it was yanked hard around its victim's neck…
I kept quiet as I watched them continue their patrol.
I didn't watch Triumph, or Clock, not really. My eyes instead followed the readouts of the GPS signals coming from the PRT agents.
Like a protective ring they circled the hero patrol, moving with them, unseen, unheard, but always there ready to jump in at a moment's notice to at least buy time for other hero reinforcements to arrive.
The PRT was a big mechanism, with a hundred moving parts that I'd never really noticed before, that too few people outside had ever noticed before.
Then it was done, and Militia made the call to bring the two back.
"How will I start?" I found myself asking, bringing Militia's eyes towards me.
"Hmmm?"
"How would I start?" I gestured towards the screen. "Officially, I'm not a part of the Protectorate so… how would this work? Do I design my own patrols, tell you in advance? Do I tag along with your patrols?"
"Not up to me," she said. "But if I were a betting woman I'd say it'll be something along the lines of coordinated patrols. For example, if you tell us you're going to patrol the next day, name a place and hour, and suddenly, we don't need to put two capes on one area with another more senior member going solo. We can have one meet up with you, join you and the other two go somewhere else in town. Alternatively, control of your patrol schedule could be given to us by yourself and Dragon, but I doubt either of you would want to surrender so much control."
"Who would be paired up with me?"
"My guess, Armsmaster. He would have the most synergy with you."
That surprised me. "How so?"
"Your ability to use your powers through cameras. If he gave you a way to look through his helmet camera, suddenly, you're a hundred yards back, and his enemy, if he's fighting someone, is taking on one of the best tinkers while also being mastered. And that's just one example off the top of my head. Vista would be another, depending on how your power interacts with hers."
Before I could say anything more, she turned back to the screens addressing Clock and Triumph. "You guys will be rendezvousing with truck E-F. At the corner of Alton and James. Code word is Egypt."
"Got it, ma'am."
The two of them moved through the roads and back alleys with a casual sort of ease that spoke of routine. They barely let themselves be seen by most of the population outside of the moments they were forced to cross a major street; the two of them seemed to know the street layout by memory, winding and weaving their way through the places with the least amount of foot traffic.
I watched the collection of people through their cameras, the ones that gasped and pointed, the ones too distracted to look up from whatever they were doing, even further to those the two heroes weren't entirely aware of. People inside windows, peeking out from behind slightly open doors.
My eyes saw them all.
As the two rounded the last corner to reach James avenue, heading towards Alton road, I suddenly felt something nagging at me… an itch scratching at the back of my thoughts.
Something is wrong.
I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud, not til Militia turned to look at me, eyes much more sharp now. "What?"
"Something's wrong!" I repeated, now more certain. My thoughts felt jarred, disjointed, like a dozen tiny needles were piercing my brain, making it harder to concentrate.
She turned on the radio. "Clock, Triumph. Eyes up, we might have—"
My hand found her shoulder.
"No… Not with them."
Not them… not them, they were outside my range, my influence. No… It was something close, nearby, a datastream that had fallen back into my envelope.
This was too close.
I focused, searching through the dozens of people I hadn't released earlier, shifting through their thoughts fast enough to see them as banal and commonplace before discarding them to search for the anomaly, trying to find it quickly.
Then I did.
The datastream was there, jagged lines of signal and code that only I could read.
Fear, panic, pain.
Their heart was racing, their adrenalin pumping. Senses sharpened to a fine point, sharp enough for me to feel the difference between this one and the dozens of others that were so dull and simple by comparison.
His brain was sending messages, data down to legs that burned; he was running.
The hand now; touch, weight, pressure, coarse brick against his palm. He was leaning on a wall. Spikes of pain through his left side, the other arm, cut, bleeding, tears in the flesh and muscle, arm wasn't moving, bones broken.
He was looking up, his sight coming to focus in the data I could see.
The image was too distant, not enough data. I read through the other sources, everyone I had still in my envelope that I hadn't released, still in range. Gathering more data, finding a clearer picture, trying to see.
My eyes snapped open.
"Outside!" I gasped. "He's outside of the PRT HQ. Across the stree—"
Militia stood up from her seat, hands finding her walkie. "PRT base defense personnel, this is Miss Militia, prepare for—"
I blocked out whatever she was saying, because I read it as the man felt it; another spike of fear-fueled adrenaline, a sound at his back, the feel of hot breath at the nape of his neck.
He turned, eyes wide. I caught nothing but a glimpse of the thing as it loomed in the man's vision before the datastream was snuffed out like it never existed.
And I realized suddenly that I'd just witnessed a murder.
(X)(X)(X)
My thanks go out to @GlassGirlCeci for her beta work on this chapter
globalwarmth
ruining the weather.
- Location
- Polar ice caps
kurt was killed
- Location
- New Zealand
It has to be someone that she's already 'captured' but not released from her power. I think she would release Kurt and Lacy because she wouldn't want to have that sort of power over them. My guess it that it was someone she saw that the E88 rally who ran to the Protectorate for protection from Oni Lee, whom Taylor wouldn't have captured with her power, and also explains the sudden breath at the nape fo his neck, as Oni Lee teleported to just behind him to slit his throat.
But if she did, she would shut him down immediately. No eyesight means that he can't teleport anywhere. Her power working through livestreams means that Armsmaster (or Kid Win) will be able to take down pretty much anybody they come across as long as they can make eye contact with them. What's the betting that helmets with live feeds will become standard fare if Taylor continues to work with the BB Protectorate and Wards?
But if she did, she would shut him down immediately. No eyesight means that he can't teleport anywhere. Her power working through livestreams means that Armsmaster (or Kid Win) will be able to take down pretty much anybody they come across as long as they can make eye contact with them. What's the betting that helmets with live feeds will become standard fare if Taylor continues to work with the BB Protectorate and Wards?