And you are about to do something before going to sleep.
Is just that—tonight has been... hectic, to put it mildly. Best to end it on your terms.
You enter your room in the Apiary after the main celebrations, your best friends following you.
Barkavious Rex comes to rest on the side of your bed on of top of his pillow; you gently put Apep and Shelob in their respective enclosures; Nevermore flies over to the top of its tower on the other side of your bed where its nest rests; and Mittens—as the independent cat it is—chooses wherever, this time it decided to claim the biggest desk as it's own for the night.
You sit down on your bed, petting Barkavious on your way to do so. You open the drawer of the small desk that's on the side of your bed and, slowly and ever so gently, pick up a picture frame from it.
You hold it, and stare at it in silence.
"H-hello mom," you say.
Another moment of silence. Your lips don't seem to want to move.
"I-I... ," your voice trembles.
"D-dammit, I-I..."
You breathe.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
In
and
out
"It-It's not easy mom," you finally say, "I miss you so much. But... I am fine. I got out of that place."
A pause.
"I just wish you had been saved too."
You keep staring at the photograph in your hands. It shows you and your mother alongside Barkavius, Apep and Nevermore. The clothes both of you have and the decorations in the background of the image reveal that it was taken around Christmas.
Both of you are smiling, not only for the incoming festivities, but for something else that could the deduced by looking at the photo more closely.
Is somewhat faint, but one could tell that a section of the shadows on the wall was darker than the rest.
This photograph was taken approximately 2 months after you discovered you had powers a couple of years ago.
The memories fill your mind and it makes you smile slightly.
"I still remember that day, you know?" you say, "I had to practice a lot to create that effect. The face you made when you realized what were you looking at made it all worth it."
Your smile is so fragile.
"Y-you were so happy for me."
And you tear up a bit.
"You were so worried for me."
And you keep talking. As if you were hoping for something.
"But I have meet many people. I saved lives!" you say as you look up at the photograph with a wider smile, "And the people of Justice Unlimited have been so nice. There is Dr. Iblis, Mr. Chaucer—my new guardian—, Mister Rhys, Opale—we saved her life—, Lady Leizi, and Mona—she kicked Scarlet Maturity's balls! Can you believe that!?—who is also a rockhead and soon she may become my new sister!"
Your gaze becomes wishful.
"Oh mom, you would have loved to meet them. I'm sure of it."
If only things had been different, if he hadn't came to your home...
You had said all of this with a quickness born out of your feelings, but the momentum ceases.
"I also got Mittens safe. So if you see our neighbor, you can tell her she is fine. And I finally got a spider too, Shelob. I knew you hated those, so I never insisted for you to get me one."
You pause for a bit, dropping your head slightly.
"Things will be more complicated in the future, mom. There are people out there who seem to think more with their pockets than with their heads. I can only hope we don't come to blows soon."
You lift it up once more, with determination flashing in your eyes, a dark determination.
"But it won't matter. We will win, because I have a mission to do. I know is not what you would have wanted for me, but he has to be dealt with if we want to be at peace—all of us—."
Your hands tremble, the memory of those events forever haunting you.
"And I swear. I'll make sure that that wannabeprince understands why you never—ever—cross a witch." you say, anger and vitriol palpable in your tone.
But without the object of said anger in your grasp, it subsides soon after. Leaving just that cold sadness.
"I don't regret taking up this task. I don't regret living on. What I regret is not being strong enough to save anyone else. I can only hope... that in a way it makes up for the people I... killed. Even though that was all an accident."
You stand the frame on the desk and tuck yourself in. It was getting cold.
"I know I'm rambling. I just... hope I can make you proud."
The photo stands in silence.
"Yeah, I know 'I will always be proud of you, my Maddie'," you say, a fraction of sarcasm in your voice, "But I want to earnit."
You exhale, the weight of fear not fully leaving you.
"Goodnight, everyone."
You say to the room, your pets making slight gestures in response.
[X] Plan: Hit hard, Hit Fast w/ Double Knights
-[X] VG uses Railgun to take Indemnity out. If possible she tries to aim it so that any over penetration hits another clone or SB. Afterwards, she switches to scissors and tries to take down Memoria and/or Seraph.
-[X] Belle Sabreuse relies on her natural defense and uses her Singularity sword to cut Yara free from Man O' War. Afterwards she prioritizes protecting Yara.
-[X] Doctor Silver keeps his current Shields active, he should focus on battlefield control and makign sure that SB does not touch Yara.
-[X] MW throws out as many clones as she can attacking all the clones and SB but focusing on Seraph and Memoria.
-[X] Chatelet should immediately tell Sunlight Knight that these are clones and that they can be caught off guard if unconventional tactics are used. While Quetzalcoatl goes to kill the Gentleman James and Miss Naught clones, her and SK should team up to kill the Automne clone, riding together on his mount - her focusing on defense and him on offense.
-[X] Lady Leizi /Black Swan yell for a truce with Plasticity, Perspective and their remaining soldiers.
-[X] Lady Leizi focuses on taking down Uiara. They've worked together for years, she knows what Uiara's weaknesses are.
-[X] Handyman should try and occupy Nox, ideally with support from Crusade.
-[X] Black Swan should above all else stay away from Nox, but otherwise should target any clones that she can get a clear shot at as well as being prepared for White Hawk in case he tries to restart a fight.
References to child abuse, suicide, murder of children
You are Lady Leizi.
You stare at the face of one of your oldest friends. She looks the same as she ever has: shoulder-length, wavy brown hair, a touch taller than you at six-foot even, and a strong muscular form that Nora used to wax poetic about. The woman in front of you is the very picture of heroism.
It sickens you. Because the thing in front of you is not Yazmin Oliveira. Her posture is too relaxed, her defense too full of holes.
It was approximately a week after Yazmin had humiliated you in front of you in front of everyone. You had spent most of it brooding in your room, hurt and furious. You had been seriously considering leaving NuGun, until a distraught Rosemary had literally dragged you to dinner with everyone one evening.
That night was still a blur, but it ended with several empty bottles of wine, Nora sobbing and calling you and Rosemary her best friends, Harper passed out on the floor, you in Rakeem's bed, and Eve having compromising photos of everyone.
Yet, there was still a distance between you and Yazmin. Yes, you were not going to up and leave, but that didn't mean you had to like the watery warrior. You would act as you please, she would do whatever it was that she did, and never would the two of you meet.
Or so you thought. To your surprise, Yazmin invited you to spar. You had tried to refuse, but she insisted.
"Think about it this way—if you're still mad at me, then what better excuse is there to punch me a few times?"
There was something in her posture, her gaze, the way she talked about fighting you that made you clench your teeth. So you agreed.
You two met in the barren sparring chamber of the Bastion—an abandoned factory floor—and stood facing each other.
"Why don't you use your powers?" Yazmin had suggested, "I won't use hydrokinesis, but I can't turn my durability off. It will help keep things even."
Your nostrils flared in outrage. She wasn't taking you seriously, was she?
What a mistake.
Less than a minute later, you had Yazmin flipped on her back, boot on her throat.
"Best of three, darling?"
"Uhh, sure?" she had said, slightly dazed.
For the next hour you beat Yazmin up and down the training floor, never once using your power. Her durability let her go well past the point a normal person would have fallen, but she was exhausted by the end all the same.
As were you. But you couldn't let her see you sweat, could you? Impressions had to be made.
"How . . .?" Yazmin gasped, genuinely speechless.
"I'm a trained fighter. You don't even know how to throw a punch correctly. You would have broken your hand a dozen times over if it were for your powers."
Yazmin made a fist, wrapping her fingers around her thumb. "What's wrong with . . .?"
"Honestly! You're like a child," you said with a roll of your eyes, "Here, I'll show you."
Your spars with Yazmin became a weekly occurrence. Her form improved as she learned some methods of defending herself other than letting her natural resistance exhaust her opponent. You felt she did very well for herself, having you be her instructor.
It would be years later that you would realize that learning to fight was beside the point for Yazmin.
Staring at the imitation in front of you, it's like looking into the past. The same Yazmin, before you two started training together. The same face, the same posture, the same mistakes. But, simultaneously, this person is a stranger. There's no warmth in her gaze, none of the friendly spark between you two.
And it's not just her who you have to contend with.
Already, Umibōzu is forming her sentinels out of the water summoned by Yazmin. The two of them together can easily tear you and Handyman apart if you don't act quickly. But it's the other three members of this group that have you worried.
Millions Minefield, who can absorb and repurpose energy. Crimson Soprano, a flier powered by radiant energy. And Nox Esurientem, a psychic vampire with a grab bag of utility powers.
These three were specifically chosen to counter Black Swan. Two to absorb her attacks, and one to prey on her weakness. Your enemies have begun to adjust to your strongest hero.
Black Swan seems to have realized it too. She's biting her lip—a sure sign she's either nervous or just seen Valiant Gold in a leather jacket.
Handyman is unharmed and waiting for your orders, and White Hawk is still incapacitated and watching everything with burning eyes. There will be no help coming from him, you imagine.
Nor do you expect much from what's left of the soldiers. Of the forty or so that arrived with Plasticity and Perspective, only about a dozen remain on their feet. You're honestly tempted to leave them to fend for themselves, given what they were about to do to you, but . . .
You can be more.
Your eyes don't leave your former teammate, but your voice calls out.
"Crusade! We're under attack from a common enemy! A metahuman with the power to clone others is attempting to kidnap Yara Oliveira! We would be best served by working together—it is the surest way to save the lives of your soldiers!"
There's silence for a moment. The clones are eerily quiet, and you can feel the crusaders' surprise at your words. Finally, a voice comes over the megaphone, faint, if such a thing is possible.
"How are we supposed to trust you?" Perspective asks.
"How do you think dead guys are walking around, moron?!" Handyman shouts, "The Defiance Unit bit it seven years ago!"
"Y-yeah!" Black Swan adds, "Don't be butts about this!"
The water begins to rise.
"Make your choice now!" you shout, "You're out of time!
DC 15.
Stat Check: REPUTATION 20. Lady Leizi, Handyman, and Black Swan have REPUTATION 19.
The Audience has granted you +5 on this roll.
You rolled: 5.
5 + 5 (You Can Be More) + 5 = 15. Success!
Probably a good thing White Hawk's mouth is glued shut.
You can feel the twins make their decision, literally.
You feel your sight and hearing increase to superhuman levels, even as your sense of smell leaves you. Plasticity.
And suddenly, you're aware of what every other member of your team, the soldiers, the twins, and White Hawk are seeing. Perspective.
Their powers may not be spectacular on their own, but they were potent force multiplies in large formations. Which is fortunate, because you were going to need every advantage you could get.
Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 32. Lady Leizi, Handyman, and Black Swan have HIT 25.
The Audience has granted you +4 on this roll.
You rolled: 6.
6 - 3 + 4 + 3 (You Know Her Moves) + 3 (War Makes for Strange Bedfellows) + 2 (Critical Injury) = 15. Major Success!
The battle begins.
The first exchange ends in your favor.
Handyman immediately tackles Nox, twisting his body into something serpentine and coiling around him. His upper body remains unchanged, so he reigns blow after blow on the clone's head. The copy of Nox seems baffled at Handyman's unconventional fighting style and freezes.
That gives the remaining soldiers time to take cover and aim—with their perspectives linked, Handyman easily pulls out of the way whenever the soldiers fire with their laser weaponry.
Crimson Soprano moves to counter the soldiers, firing blasts of energy that curve around cover and home in on the soldiers. You're too focused on your own fight to do more than take a mental note of that—you had no idea she could do that. Then again, fighting her had always been left up to the other members of your team.
Black Swan sees her attacking the non-metahumans and seemingly takes offense. She flies behind her faster than the eye can see, and destroys the clone in an instant with a blinding strike.
Her eyes are as hard as you've ever seen them as she gazes at the bodies of some of the soldiers. You're not certain she's seen anyone die before. You'll have to speak to her after this.
But there's no time for that, because now you're within range of Yazmin. As you thought, her movements are slow and clumsy, telegraphing every attack. You can see what she's going to do before she does it.
Unfortunately, Yazmin didn't refuse to use her hydrokinesis during your spars merely out of politeness. It didn't matter if you knew she was going to throw a punch if the punch was followed by a wall of water.
You find yourself desperately dodging out the way as a hydrokinetic hammer races past your head. Yazmin raises her hands up, and a wall of water rises and rushes toward you. It's solid as a rock and will crush you at this speed.
Well. Yazmin wasn't the only one holding back during your spars.
You wait until the wave is nearly upon you, and swing your hands together. Lightning explodes from your literal thunderclap just as the wave hits, and you part the water in front of you like Moses and the Red Sea.
But you don't remain idle. The clone seems confused at what just happened—as far as you can tell from her blank face—and is unprepared for when you dash forward and uppercut her in the jaw.
As soon as your fist meets her flesh, you know something is wrong.
The lightning discharges across Yazmin's head and washes off her like water off a duck's back. She doesn't move. She barely seems to feel it.
That's . . . not right. Yazmin was super-durable, true, but she wasn't invulnerable. She still felt pain, and her flesh had some give when struck. Hitting her was like punching an old tire. This felt more like hitting a block of steel.
The clone looks at you, and you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You jump back in just enough time as the water around Yazmin explodes into jagged shards of ice. She swipes a hand, and fires them like needles at you.
That was definitely wrong.
Yazmin could freeze water, but that was the extent of her cryokinesis. She couldn't manipulate the ice.
You take a risk and look around.
Umibōzu has Handyman and Black Swan at bay with six sentries. The floating balls of water follow the shapechanger and blaster around, constantly firing a barrage of streams of pressurized water.
They should be stationary.
Black Swan attempts to destroy Umibōzu the same way she did Crimson Soprano, but Millions Minefield is there. He absorbs her blast into dozens of balls of energy, and then points at the soldiers. The balls fly and detonate, scattering the men.
They all have new aspects to their powers.
DC 10.
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 10. Lady Leizi, Handyman, and Black Swan have OPERATIONS 12.
You rolled: 9.
9 + 1 = 10. Success!
. . . no.
It can't be! You would know! It would be impossible to hide a second Scarlet Maturity from everyone!
. . . if he looked the same. But now that you know how his power works, you wonder: what did he look like before he started collecting on his "loans". Was he a normal person? At a normal height? He has grown taller over the years, directly proportional to his own power.
The clone would be too short lived to become like the monster you know . . . but if Socialite Butterfly used it to enhanceher other clones . . .
You are all in serious danger.
The ground starts to shake as you see Yazmin raise her arms high above her head. Groundwater! Yazmin could make her own water ex nihilo, but it was more efficient for her to take it from somewhere else. If she manages to floods the area, she and Umibōzu will be unstoppable.
Which is why she can't be allowed to finish.
DC 13
Stat Check: HIT 27. Lady Leizi, Handyman, and Black Swan have HIT 25.
You rolled: 2.
2 - 1 = 1. Failure! Critical failure!
Light blooms as Black Swan fires again at Umibōzu. Millions Minefield begins siphoning the energy, but, this time, Black Swan keeps firing. She must reasonably believe that there is an upper limit to what Millions Minefield can absorb, and that his mines will collapse if overwhelmed.
Which normally would be true. Except, this is a Millions Minefield boosted by Scarlet Maturity.
His mine swells to an impossible size as Black Swan continues to fire. Eventually, she tapers off, confused at how he can still contain all of her might. At the same time, Umibōzu's sentinels turn to you. You abort your charge toward Yazmin as you dodge out of the way. One stream manages to hit you, tearing a chunk out of your arm.
Lady Leizi takes one injury level! Superficial injury!
You try to get up, but that's all the time Yazmin needs. A geyser tears through the earth, drenching the whole area. She swings her arm and sends a jet at Handyman and Nox, which smashes into them both. Handyman is dislodged, sent flying, and Nox disappears with a flash of mist.
Doctor Silver's shield absorbs one injury level for Handyman! Charges remaining: 2.
And reappears right behind Black Swan.
He grabs her head and lets out a terrible psychic scream that echoes in the deepest recesses of your mind—something he couldn't do before—and you grit your teeth in pain. But it's nothing compared to Black Swan, who's whole body convulses, flickers, and then explodes. Light fills your vision as you're blinded and then knocked off your feet. When your vision returns, you see the thing you fear.
Black Swan's core, naked and exposed, unmoving.
Black Swan takes one injury level! Incapacitated!
Justice Unlimited's hammer is out of the fight.
* * *
You are Valiant Gold.
No time.
During your training with Lady Leizi, she drilled one thing into your head over and over again. Well, okay, two things. One, how to throw a punch. Two, to never surrender the initiative. Socialite Butterfly has given the signal to attack, but you now exist in a time between her giving that order and the clones acting on it. You can still dictate the course of this battle if you act now.
No time.
Man o' War is the biggest threat, but you don't think you can beat him immediately. Not to mention, he still has Yara held hostage. You'll have to free her first to deal with him, and that's time you don't have.
No time.
That makes your target obvious then. Anyone else you damage—including Socialite Butterfly—will just be protected by Indemnity's power. If you remember correctly, his power works by him touching someone and designating them the "receiver". He then can transfer any injuries that he sees onto that receiver. When he was alive—alongside the rest of Global Justice— the invulnerable Steadfast was usually where the injuries went. Now, you'd put money on it being Man o' War. But it doesn't matter. Either way, Indemity has to go.
No time.
You're only going to get one shot at this. So you're going to make it count.
Activate Module: Paper.
Your armor changes as it always does when you activate Module Paper. You're down to one fully-functioning drone, one partially broken one, and a hand cannon that you're fairly certain won't be enough. Indemnity stares at you with blank eyes, protected by a glowing, blue shield being projected by Palisade. To harm Indemnity, you'll need to take out Palisade and make her drop her shield. But to do that, you'll have to disable Indemnity or he'll just heal her. A vexing problem, which is why you'll be taking a shortcut:
Maximum violence.
Activate: Railgun.
The armor plates that cover your legs unfold like the petals of a flower and link together to form a platform beneath you. You raise both your arms to be level with your shoulders, stretched out to either side of you. An electrical current runs across the surface of your armor, locking you into place, as a section of metal rises across your arms and over your shoulders and begins to glow.
Your fingers tingle as you feel the magnetic field your armor creates. A long, sharpened rod of metal made by Vulcan emerges from the pocket dimension where your armor is kept. It floats just above the rail running down your arms.
In the time it takes a hummingbird to flap its wings, you aim and fire, accelerating the ultra-dense metal to a speed of 52,493 miles a second.
DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 11. Valiant Gold has HIT 9.
You rolled: 17.
17 - 1 + 5 (Railgun) = 21. Critical Success!
It happens so fast that you struggle to process what you're seeing. One second, Indemnity is there, protected by an impenetrable shield. The next, he is gone. No body, no blood, no sign that a clone of a dead man ever existed. You erase him.
As you did the wall of the house behind him and everything else between the two of you. A scar, deep and long, has been gouged out of the earth, extending well into the forest beyond your vision.
All you stare, slightly dazed, all you can think is to be grateful that you had a clear line of sight. No one here, save perhaps Man o'War, could have survived that.
Module: Paper Temporarily Disabled. Module: Scissors Activated.
Socialite Butterfly stares at you, eyes wide, her face frozen mid-laugh. Yet, no mirth issues from her lips; she only makes a choking sound.
Guess it's not so funny now.
"Justice Unlimited, unite!" you call, and leap into action.
Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 29. Valiant Gold, Bell Sabreuse, Doctor Silver, Menagerie Witch, and Yara have HIT 30.
You rolled: 10.
10 + 0 + 5 (Clones Don't React Well to Losing the Initiative Roll) = 15. Major Success!
Your team is behind you, working together like a well oiled-machine. Even Belle Sabreuse falls naturally into formation, in stark contrast to the clones. Whatever orders they had been given—whatever ways they had been instructed—they certainly didn't account for this. They freeze, uncertain how to act.
And that's all you need.
"Break her bones, eat her heart, I want that copy torn apart!" Menagerie Witch calls, pointing at Palisade. A shadow snake with a head the size of your torso, a shadow-leopard, and a massive, inky direwolf leap forward, jaws open.
"Kill them! Kill them, you fools!" Socialite Butterfly shrieks. She then lays a hand on Seraph's back, no doubt to give more detailed orders.
Well, you can't have that.
You race toward the two of them, only to be intercepted by Man o' War. But he's strong and tough, not fast, and you effortlessly weave around him—
When two floating, disembodied arms appear in front of you, wielding a mace and axe.
Clang! You parry the axe and duck under the mace, mind racing. Man o' War now only has six energy arms connected to his body and could he always detach his construct arms like that? You've never heard of such a thing and—
Focus. You duck, narrowly avoiding a swing from the mace-arm nearly decapitates you. You're getting distracted, and you're no closer to killing Seraph.
Now, what to do? You could take a swing at Socialite Butterfly, but you would bet your armor that she has other protections in place.
Palisade knocks the panther away with a burst of energy—has her shield regenerated already?—but the snake catches her by the throat and sinks its fangs deep. Then the direwolf rips her arm off, and it's all over.
Menagerie Witch is simultaneously making more clones and doing something to the real Seraph's body—ohhhh. That's what he vials are for. Meanwhile, Belle Sabreuse is dueling Man o' War, trying to cut her way to Yara. He detaches two more arms to attack the swashbuckler from all angles, but none of his blades can pierce her now hyper-dense clothing.
The Hustles absorbs one injury level! Doctor Silver gains 1 charge! Charges remaining: 3!
Socialite Butterfly points at Man o' War and whispers something to Seraph. Suddenly, he starts targeting Belle Sabreuse's exposed face. Shit. Doctor Silver blocks Man o' War's vision with an opaque barrier, but his arms can still fight autonomously.
No, you'll still need to stop Socialite Butterfly from telling her clones how to adapt, but you're still no closer than you were before. You scrambling for an idea when—
Stockpile cuts the space between him as Seraph. Suddenly, Socialite Butterfly is whispering into empty air, and Seraph is right next to you.
A casual swing, and you decapitate your second clone. You refuse to thank the thief.
Now, to free Yara.
Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 19. Valiant Gold, Bell Sabreuse, Doctor Silver, Menagerie Witch, and Yara have HIT 30.
You rolled: 20.
20 + 5 = 25. Major Success! Critical Success!
You and Stockpile move at the same time to the same target: Man o' War. Two arms are occupied by you, two by Belle Sabreuse, and two by Stockpile. The final two fend of a hoard of clones—
Leaving Socialite Butterfly open.
An opaque barrier appears around her head. You hear her muffled shout of outrage, before a moment passes and her hands begin desperately scratching at the barrier.
She can't breathe.
"Been practicing," Doctor Silver says, the kind, fatherly figure you know replaced by something far, far colder, "No oxygen gets in or out."
You don't like that, at all. But your mind is consumed by dodging whirling blades wielded by spectral hands, so your comment dies on your lips. Man o' War fights on, oblivious, as his creator suffocates. You wonder if the fight can end just like this, but then Socialite Butterfly pulls something out of her pocket and clicks it.
The area around explodes with kinetic force, and Doctor Silver's barrier is shattered. She emerges, gasping for air.
Doctor Silver loses 1 charge! Charges remaining: 2.
"You blithering idiot!" she screams at Man o' War, "Protect your goddess!"
But that is the wrong thing to say. Man o' War immediately transports two arms next to his creator, ostensibly to guard her, which frees up Belle Sabreuse. She darts forward striking at the arm holding Yara. Her blade clashes with his impervious flesh and, for a second, it holds. But slowly, slowly, her saber cuts down with the weight of a galaxy.
She cuts his flesh-arm clean off, and catches Yara before she hits the ground. She steps back, holding her charge.
And Socialite Butterfly takes out a pistol, and aims it at Belle Sabreuse's exposed head.
Time freezes. You don't have time to react. Doctor Silver's shields are all accounted for: one on Handyman, one on Châtelet, and one keeping Socialite Butterfly from touching anyone. Could he move one to Belle Sabreuse quickly enough? Can Stockpile teleport in time? Will he? Why doesn't she wear a full face-covering?!
And what must you do?
Clang!
As it turns out, nothing. Socialite Butterfly pulls her hand back with a hiss of surprise as a piece of brass-colored metal smacks the gun out of her hand. Doctor Silver' shield springs to life, ironically protecting her from any harm. She slowly turns her head to behold Belle Sabreuse's savior:
The Brass Shield, without his armor and in new pants, clutching a piece of his armor in his hands. His knees are visibly knocking.
"I . . . I said I wanted to be a hero!" he shouts, obviously terrified, "A-and you, madam, are clearly a villain!"
"Kill him," Socialite Butterfly says without emotion.
A spectral arm and cutlass manifest and swing at Crusade's other thief. You shift the path of the blade with Scissor's telekinesis, so, instead of bisecting him, the cut merely opens a long scratch along his body. He falls, squealing like a stuck pig.
Socialite Butterfly turns to you, still nursing her wrist, face blotchy and distorted in anger.
"I. Have. Had. Enough!" she bellows, "I have never had to endure such disrespectful behavior! I do not deserve to be treated in such a way! How dare you all?!"
She is breathing heavily through her teeth.
"I will kill you all and decorate my Admirers with your armor! You're not even fit to join them! I have no use for children and an old man playing dress up! And that vile witch—"
"You're just mad that my power is like yours but not really fucking creepy—"
"I have no use for an Admirer who requires a zoo!" the cloner yells, flushing, "That's it! Enough games—I am leaving!"
She gestures to Memoria, who pulls out a picture.
Is . . . is she retreating? Memoria's power is touch-based and only she is close enough to him to—wait.
The floating arms. Palisade recharging her shields so quickly. Mr. Whaaa? making others unnoticeable. All expressions of their powers never shown before. All seemingly upgrades for their powers. You're weren't there before, but it sounds just like what you read about in Justice Unlimited's fight with—
Scarlet Maturity.
Too slow. You're always too fucking slow. Too slow to realize, too slow to act, too slow to make a difference.
The picture in Memoria's grows until it nearly fills your vision, the image being projected on the wall behind the clone. The silhouettes of Socialite Butterfly, Memoria, Man o' War, Belle Sabreuse, and Yara all distort and pull toward the image. It's of some indistinct, forested area—it looks like a thousand places in Horizon. If Socialite Butterfly drags Yara there, you'll never find them.
But however Memoria's enhanced power works, it's not affecting you. You're going to be left behind. You try to rush the clone, but Man o' War's arms swing and drive you back. Stockpile and Menagerie Witch are similarly kept at bay, but Doctor Silver . . .
DC 13.
Stat Check: HIT 5. Doctor Silver has HIT 3.
You rolled: 14.
14 - 1 = 13. Success!
. . . dives and wraps his arms around both Belle Sabreuse and Yara. His image distorts as well, and they drift towards the image created by Memoria. They stretch and pull and twist and then—
They're gone.
You, Stockpile, and Menagerie Witch are left alone in a destroyed home with the injured Brass Shield.
"Fuck," Menagerie Witch says.
That's not a productive thing to say. You need to strategize, right now. Your major problems are: You don't know where they went. You don't know how to find them. Yara, Belle Sabreuse, and Doctor Silver are in the hands of an insane cloner who likely has a copy of Scarlet Maturity floating around. Oh, and now you're also alone with two members of Crusade, one of whom wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire. You . . .
"Fuck," you agree.
* * *
You are Châtelet.
You're sorry. You're so sorry.
She's just a copy. Just a mindless clone, enslaved to ten pounds of crazy in a five-pound sack. She doesn't have thoughts or feelings of her own. She's basically just a giant doll or a robot or something.
You don't care. It's Ophélie. Your baby cousin. She's right there.
You're sorry. You're so, so sorry.
You should have died, not her. She was a better hero than you all, and she didn't even want this life. But that didn't matter; she always did the right thing, no matter what. She wasn't afraid of anything. Meanwhile, you were too scared to tell your cousin your real name.
But Ophélie wasn't frightened by Gwen, or anything really. She faced down an army of Behemoths to protect the woman she loved, despite the danger to herself. Despite the fact it cost her life. In a way, you envy her. She died next to Towarri the way you should have died next to Abigail.
But you didn't. You were given another chance and now you're Châtelet. You're second-in-command of Justice Unlimited, you have bottom surgery scheduled soon, and now a hot knight is falling all over himself to marry you. You're happy, so blissfully happy, and it would be perfect if you weren't missing the two most important people in your life.
Ophélie deserved this life, not you.
But, even knowing that, you don't think you would be able to bring yourself to trade places with her if you had the chance.
You're sorry. You're so, so, so sorry.
"Umm, Miss Opale, forgive my impertinence, but . . . you don't look like you've just learned your lost cousin is alive after all," Sunlight Knight says gently, "And isn't New Dawn allied with Justice Unlimited? Given their hostile stance against us, I take it that these are some kind of imposters . . . ?"
DC 13.
Stat Check: REPUTATION 7. Châtelet has REPUTATION 9.
You rolled: 13.
13 + 0 + 3 (He Down Bad) = 16. Success!
"We're under attack from an evil metahuman who clones people," you say quickly, "We had intel she was trying to kidnap Yara Oliveira, we were trying to not tip her off that we were onto her."
You can't take your eyes off your cousin.
"Guess she got tipped off."
Sunlight Knight's eyes widen in shock. "Perfidious fiend! Using a deceased loved one against their family? Unforgivable!"
You don't respond.
"My lady, let me be your lance. I will fight by your side while we face this threat! Petty grudges between organizations mean nothing in times like this!"
"I'm glad to hear that." Your voice sounds far away and distant to your own ears, like someone else is speaking. "I don't think I would have had it in me to take you out gently right now."
You look away from Ophélie for just a second to glance at the copies of Miss Naught and Gentleman James. Why are they still there? You don't want to have to see them right now. You want them gone.
"Quetzalcoatl, kill," you say, pointing. Your voice is empty, numb. But the winged serpent hears it all the same.
Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 18. Châtelet, Sunlight Knight, and Quetzalcoatl have a combined HIT 23.
You rolled: 16.
16 + 2 = 18. Major Success!
Quetzalcoatl is the largest chimera that Menagerie Witch has created, but it does not lack for speed. The serpent is the size of a subway train and moves like one, flying towards the copies of New Dawn hidden in the branches below.
And you don't let him go without aid. When the clones peak their heads out to attack, you create two barriers in front of each of their eyes. They both freeze, seemingly confused at having lost line of sight on their target.
And that's all the opening Quetzalcoatl needs.
He races toward their positions, maw opened wide and swallows both of them whole in one fell strike. You hear a sickening crunching sound as it chomps down, and suddenly the world is two clones fewer.
You watch the whole thing, detached. A poor matchup, really. Miss Naught could ensure she and her allies would hit whatever her target was, but she herself lacked the firepower to harm the chimera. And the clone of Gentleman James froze completely when he lost sight of his quarry. The real Gentleman James would have retreated or repositioned—it seems like that was a step too far to expect the clone to do quickly.
Huh. Two enemies defeated just like that, but all you can think of is—
"Zounds! What a display! Huzzah!" Sunlight Knight cheers, pumping a fist, "What a magnificent creature! Truly it is worthy of bearing the name of the feathered serpent of Mesoamerican legend! The patron of priests, inventor of calendars and books, and smiter of our foes!"
He bursts into boisterous laughter.
". . . what?" you say, stupefied.
"Quetzalcoatl, of course! Aztec deity!" Sunlight Knight grins under his helmet. "Also called 'Kukulkan' among the Yucatec and 'Q'uq'umatz' or 'Tohil' among the K'iche!"
You blink very slowly.
"I'm a fan!"
You laugh. You can't help it. He's so . . . stupidly earnest. As if it would be strange if he didn't know obscure trivia about the names of constructs created by his enemies. As if it would be odd if he didn't think a monster devouring two clones was something worth cheering about.
You fall to your knees and nearly fall off your barrier, you laugh so hard. Then your mirth turns to sobs and you have to fight to keep control of yourself.
God, Abigail would have loved him.
"Miss Opale . . . are you alright?" he asks, the gorgeous idiot.
"No," you say, "I'm not okay. But this isn't the time for this. We have a fight to win."
". . . too true," he agrees, "But—"
His words are cut off by a gigantic explosion of colorless light in the distance, a second sun blooming in the middle of the day. You hear a shriek echo in the wind. Black Swan.
DC 10.
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 5. Châtelet has OPERATIONS 6.
You rolled: 11.
11 + 0 = 11. Success!
Black Swan wouldn't put out power like that if she wasn't desperate. And that scream . . . Your gut tells you something is very, very wrong.
"You, uh, Simon," you say, relieved you remember his name, "Will you follow my lead? You need to obey my orders to the letter.
His eyes brighten. "As long as I draw breath and you stand against evil, my blade is forevermore yours."
"Uh, okay, good!" you say. Then, to the returning shadow monster, "Quetzalcoatl, go help Lady Leizi! Now!"
The construct makes a vaguely offended sound and tilts its head.
"You heard me, get! We're more than enough to win here. Now, go!"
Quetzalcoatl huffs and flies away, in the direction of the detonation.
"Ah, Miss Opale," Sunlight Knight says, "Supporting one's allies is always commendable, but are you certain that was the right course of action? I confess, I do not relish the thought of fighting an aerokinetic on her preferred battlefield."
You reply by hopping onto his fiery horse and wrapping your arms around his waist. They're both warm to the touch, but do not burn you.
"Just trust me!" you shout, "Now, go! Move!"
Sunlight Knight sputters, but quickly races forward, just as the air around you accelerates to destructive speeds.
"Go left, around her!" you shout. You create a barrier around the two of you to help Sunlight Knight turn. "The wind takes a second to accelerate! Listen for the sound to know when to dodge! You're heavier than I am, so she'll have a harder time knocking you around!"
Sure enough, you feel a powerful gust of air that pulls at your cheeks, but fails to dislodge either of you.
"Should we not fear attacks from her directly?" he shouts over his shoulder.
"Yes and no! Having her fight this high up is actually kind of a mistake. Automne wasn't a blaster—she actually did more damage with shrapnel in her winds than with the winds themselves. Up here, there's nothing to throw at us. That said, we need to take her out soon, or she'll turn the whole area into a wind-tunnel. The air being empty doesn't matter if hurricane-force winds just snap our necks!"
"How do we do that, then?"
"Get me close!"
Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 9. Châtelet and Sunlight Knight have a combined HIT 14.
You rolled: 8.
8 + 2 + 5 (I'm Sorry, I Won't Join You Yet) = 15. Major Success!
Without another word, Sunlight Knight wheels his horse around and charges toward Ophélie. You create a long barrier around you with gravity pointing toward her. You both rocket forward.
"Automne can't actually fly!" you call, "She relies on the winds to hold her up. That means the area around her needs to be calm, or she'll get thrown around too!"
"A literal eye of the storm, as it were!"
"You mean 'figurative', and yes!"
You hear the wind scream as the air around you moves faster and faster, the winds beginning to spin in a circular cycle. It seems like the acceleration is happening faster than it should . . . ? But you're moving fast enough that you burst right through, even as your hair is ripped free from its ponytail.
"She's open from above and below," you call. You stand up on the back of his steed and steady yourself. "I'll go high. You go low!"
And before he can protest, you create a barrier and launch yourself.
The wind tears at your body and tries to pull you off course, but you constantly create barriers to keep yourself on target. It's a massive strain and you feel yourself start to weaken, but, just as you're about to break, you hit the calm pocket around Ophélie.
And see her right below you.
She looks up at you, but, at the same time you arrive, Sunlight Knight breaks free from the maelstrom and charges your cousin from below. The clone freezes in place, uncertain who to attack first, and you both close in on her.
Then, she makes up her mind: both of you.
A blast of wind explodes out of her body, sending both you and Sunlight Knight flying. Your brain stutters—s-she couldn't ever do that!—but it's too late. You're falling.
Doctor Silver's shield absorbs one injury level for Châtelet! Charges remaining: 1.
But so is Ophélie. That gust disrupts the air currents she is standing on, and she drifts downward—right into Sunlight Knight.
DC 13.
Stat Check: HIT 9. Châtelet and Sunlight Knight have a combined HIT 14.
You rolled: 11.
11 + 2 = 13. Success!
You're sorry. You're so sorry.
You don't hesitate. Sunlight Knight creates a gigantic warhammer out of his glowing energy, and smashes Ophélie with it. She goes flying backwards, one arm bent at an impossible angle, directly into the barrier you have waiting for her.
The gravity inside is pointing to the ground. Ophélie is pushed downward. Right into the next barrier.
Then the next.
And the next.
And the next.
Ophélie hits a series of your barriers, all with downward gravity, over and over again, accelerating until she hits terminal velocity.
Then she hits the ground.
You barely notice when Sunlight Knight catches you and prevents you from sharing the same fate. He whoops in victory and praises your creativity, before he notices the look on your face. The numbness is back, and you can't take your eyes off the broken body on the ground.
As you get closer, you see her legs are broken, her spine shattered, but your baby cousin is still trying to fight. She can barely breathe—only her own power keeping her lungs inflated—but she's still struggling. Like she always does. She never gives up. She didn't give up at the QZ, she never gave into Gwen at her worst, she's so much stronger than you are. She deserves better. Better than a cousin who can only grant her peace—
As you touch the ground, Sunlight Knight throws out a sparkle of light that dazzles and blinds you. By the time your vision clears, Ophélie . . . the copy's body is gone, melted into some waxy substance. Sunlight Knight stands over it, a glowing sword plunged down.
"W-wha . . .?" you say, unable to articulate.
Sunlight Knight bows. "I apologize. Please, loathe me if you must. But I could not bear watching you suffer so. I wanted to spare you the pain of killing your cousin, even if it is just an imposter wearing her face."
"I-I . . . I don't hate you. Thank you," you say. Your heart thumps in your chest.
Oh no.
He's a painfully earnest sweetheart who's kind of dumb and desperately wants to get married. He's dude-Abigail.
Ohhhh noooooooooooo. That's your type!
. . .you're definitely bisexual now, you guess?
". . . what are you thinking about?" he asks, shyly.
". . . Abs would have loved you," you say absently. You shake your head, snapping back to reality. "Uh, she was my fiancee. The Giant Slayer. Umm, sorry, that was a weird thing to say . . ."
"No! Not at all." Simon glances tenderly at you. "She sounds like a magnificent woman."
"She was . . ." you say with a bittersweet smile, "She—"
Something silver flickers in your peripheral vision, in the air. You feel your adrenaline spike as you look up—oh no.
"Opale, get down!"
Simon knocks you aside as an orb of pure darkness appears, so dense not even light can escape it. You see Simon's left leg twist, stretch, and snap like a strand of spaghetti, and then you smash your head against something and roll on your back.
As you look up, a hysterical giggle bubbles in your throat.
Of course.
They were practically joined at the hip, weren't they?
* * *
You are Handyman.
Man, it's gotta be a Thursday. You never did get the hang of Thursdays. Case in point: Mona's down and that vampire-asshole is standing over her core. Uiara and Umibōzu have Double L surrounded, and Millions Minefield—cool costume, stupid name—is standing next to an energy-mine the size of a house.
Crusade's remaining soldiers have totally broken; they're sprinting for the hills as fast as they can. Perspective and Plasticity are alive, you think. But they're nowhere to be seen.
Oh, wait, there they are! You spot them climbing into the sole, undestroyed APC with a few soldiers and two limp bodies . . . huh. It's Été and Joules.
So that's where they went.
White Hawk is still choking on concrete and still glaring daggers at you—yeah, fuck you too, buddy.
And you? You've—as so often tends to happen—been ignored. You're all by your lonesome. No enemies to punch or be punched by. Guess they don't think you're a threat.
You snort. Morons.
Honestly, though? You're fuckin' terrified. The last time you were up against odds like this, you got ripped in half.
But Lady Leizi is fighting. Maddie is fighting. Doc, Opie, Belle, and that nice Yara kid—they're all still out there, fighting. VG is out there taking on Shitpile by herself. And now, Mona needs you.
So, even if you're shitting your non-existent pants, you can't run. You gotta do something.
But, uh, what exactly?
DC 15 - 2 (QM Whoopsie Last Update) = DC 13.
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 8. Handyman has OPERATIONS 3 .
You rolled: 5.
The Audience has granted you +5 on this roll.
5 - 2 + 5 (He Knows How Black Swan's Power Works) + 5 = 13. Success!
Necessity is the mother of stupid plans.
Okay, okay. You're more a doer than a thinker, but, uh, what would Gus do here? He would . . . break his problem into smaller pieces and solve each of those.
First, you gotta beat these guys and get back to Yara. But, to do that, you need Mona back on her feet. Buuut, she's outta juice. If you remember right, she'll recharge eventually, but you don't have time to wait around. So how do you get her powered back up . . . ?
You slooooowly turn your head to the glowing orb of power. It's kinda hard to miss.
Okay, that might do it. But now, how do you get Mona over there? Ob-Nox-ious is standing guard over her and . . . not helping finish you guys off. Huh.
Those clones are supposed to be idiots, right?
"Double L!" you shout over your comm, "I've gotta plan! Can you buy me some time?"
"I'm a little preoccupied myself, darling!" Lady Leizi says, dodging out of the way of a half-dozen jets of water. "How desperate is this plan?"
"Super desperate!"
"Then that might just be what we require!" She gives you a vicious grin that, but for the fact you're very gay, might just make you fall in love. "Whenever I was losing to Yazmin in a spar, I had a surefire way to force a draw. I'll put my faith in you!"
You gulp. "Won't let you down."
"I know you won't, Handyman. Now, take cover."
Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 19. Lady Leizi, Handyman, and Black Swan have HIT 13.
You rolled: 9.
The Audience has granted you +1 on this roll.
9 - 3 + 3 (Hail Mary, Full of Grace) + 1 = 10. Moderate Success!
Lady Leizi is a poor loser.
You move as soon as you hear the tone of Lady Leizi's voice. That is one scary lady. But as you duck for cover, you make literal eyes in the back of your head to see what she's doing.
You see her gather a tremendous amount of electricity in one hand, so much that it looks like she's holding a lightning bolt. Then, all at once, she drops to one knee and shoves her arm into the water. She runs the current through the water, causing it to sizzle and steam. She does this for a good while until Umibōzu draws near, and then she holds open her other hand.
She's holding a lighter.
Ohshitfuck! You realize what she's doing and you make yourself as flat as possible and duck as she dives away, flicks the lighter open, sparks it, and throws.
Igniting the hydrogen gas around Umibōzu.
You go deaf for a second from the explosion and you can feel the heat on your skin. Shrapnel—shards of wood and rock—scraps against the surface of your body, but leaves nothing more than a few scratches.
Handyman takes one injury level! Superficial injury!
As soon as it subsides, you stretch your head up and look for Lady Leizi. You spot her at the edge of where the explosion was, her arm covered in burns and her coat destroyed. Somehow, her sunglasses are fine. She looks like shit, but she's still on her feet with her eyes sparkling.
What a lady.
Lady Leizi takes one injury level! Severe Injury!
Umibōzu however, looks like someone out of a burn ward. You have to think the clones can't feel pain—if they could, there would be no way she would still be moving.
Uiara looks extra-crispy, but otherwise unharmed.
But no time for gawking, the boss gave you an opening and you won't waste it. Before everyone recovers, you mold your body into a new shape.
One that looks just like the late Crimson Soprano.
You then walk over to Nox and Mona. The vampire barely acknowledges your presence, looking over for a second before looking back at Lady Leizi.
Does . . . does he not realize Soprano already bit it and it's really weird that now she's suddenly back? And walking instead of flying?
Guess not. You decide to press your luck.
You walk over to Mona's core, a slab of solid back material in the shape of her head and torso, and grab it. You lift her up onto your shoulder—shit, she's heavy—and then you look at Nox.
Nothing. Holy shit.
Lady Leizi looks over at you, her jaw on the floor. You jauntily wave at her, and then walk toward Millions Minefield. At that, Nox actually reacts.
He follows you. He doesn't try to stop you; he just follows along, making sure to keep Mona in his line of sight.
. . . you guess his job was to take her out and then guard her? You mean, that's what he's doing. That's all he's doing.
You walk next to Millions Minefield—who also doesn't react—go up to the ball of energy, and take Mona off your shoulder.
You huck her in. Then, you turn and rip Millions Minefield's head clean off his body.
That, Nox does not care for.
The clone finally realizes you're his enemy and shrieks at you, trying to do that mind scream thing he did to Mona earlier. But you're ready and envelop him in your hand, growing to your maximum size.
"Round two, asshole!" you shout.
Honestly, it's kind of a relief to finally see him reacting to something.
* * *
You are Lady Leizi.
The mine that Black Swan was deposited in pulses for a moment before shrinking inward, like air being let out of a balloon. The ball condenses into a center mass that flickers, and then starts yelling almost-profanities.
Black Swan is little more than a torso and a head, but she's back.
You can't believe that worked. Handyman . . . honestly, you've been wasting him as a frontliner in combat. He's clearly better suited to sowing chaos among your foes. You would kick yourself if you were in a better condition.
But you believe you've torn your rotator cuff, so you'll be kind to yourself this one time.
Besides, you still have a fight of your own.
Umibōzu is nearly dead, so you decide to prioritize finishing her off. Besides, if Yazmin is truly invincible instead of "merely" durable now, you're not sure how to deal with her. You'll have to hope your team can finish their business and come to assist you.
A long shadow falls over the battlefield, and you risk looking up. Oh. Oh, that will do nicely.
Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 22. Lady Leizi, Handyman, Black Swan, and Quetzalcoatl have a collective HIT 34.
Handyman is grappling with Nox, who turns his head toward the injured Black Swan. Handyman grows an extra arm and extends it into the ground and shouts something at Black Swan. She descends to the earth, and then Handyman lets Nox go.
Nox teleports behind Black Swan again, but, this time when he does, spikes of clay shoot from the ground and solidify into bone. They pierce through Nox's body, rooting him in place.
Leaving him vulnerable to a vengeful Black Swan.
It's among the weakest of the blasts you've ever seen from her, but she completely vaporizes Nox Esurientem's head. The clone dissolves into a pile of mush.
Meanwhile, Yazmin surfs a wave of water directly at you, intending to crush you underfoot. But, before she can, a great winged serpent runs her over. You race over to Umibōzu, who gathers her sentinels around her.
You let her. She gathers more and more, ten, fifteen, twenty—the balls of destructive water floating all around her like a cloud of destruction. They spread high and wide, surrounding you completely. You have no way of dodging. No way of hiding. If they fire, they will fill you full of holes.
But you don't need to. For, the serpent whips its long tail around and smacks Umibōzu. She goes flying, smashes into a tree, and dissolves into sludge.
"Good boy," you tell the serpent, who you swear woofs.
And then a spike of ice thicker than your body pieces it from below, dissolving it into motes of shadow.
The Hustles absorbs one injury level! Doctor Silver gains 1 charge! Charges remaining: 2!
From the water rises Uiara, looking harried, but unhurt.
Handyman and Black Swan are still too far away. You'll have to deal with her alone. As it should be.
DC 12.
Stat Check: HIT 7. Lady Leizi has HIT 5.
You rolled: 5.
5 -1 - 1 (Severe Injury) = 3. Failure!
Given the seemingly natural synergies between their powers, one would think that Umibōzu and Yazmin would have enjoyed working together. However, on that, one would be mistaken on two counts. First, Umibōzu and Yazmin detested one another—it was a long story involving Nora trying to date after one of her and Yazmin's "true" breakups—and, second, their powers actually weren't that synergistic.
To reach her full potential, Yazmin needed to have control over large amounts of water. Umibōzu, by contrast, took water and separated it into discrete units under her command, and thus prevented Yazmin from using it to ramp up.
The upshot is, after Umibōzu made all of those sentinels, Yazmin was not nearly as powerful as she should be.
Yet, she was powerful enough.
You run towards her and she tries to take out your legs with a wave of knee-high water. You jump over it, but she freezes it into jagged crystals in an attempt to impale you. You're forced to kick down to destroy the ice as it forms, but then Yazmin is swinging a fist at your head.
No time to dodge. You take the attack and attempt to turn it into an exchange by punching her in the solar plexus.
She hurts you. You fail to harm her.
Lady Leizi takes one injury level! Critical Injury!
You start to get angry. But there's less free water now, with all of this ice. Another mistake Yazmin wouldn't have made.
DC 12.
Stat Check: HIT 6. Lady Leizi has HIT 5.
You rolled: 8.
The Audience has granted you +2 on this roll.
8 + 0 + 2 (Critical Injury) + 2 = 12. Success!
Stop calling it "Yazmin". It's not her.
The smart thing to do would be to delay. Wait for Handyman and Black Swan to join you. Take your foe down together.
But, no. You're upset. Furious. Apoplectic even. This thing is an insult. It has none of Yazmin's passion, her drive, her will. It's just a doll with her face and her powers. Its very existence is a mockery of everything Yazmin believed in—that heroes should serve people, not a feckless mistress trying to kidnap an innocent girl.
You want it gone. You want to kill it. You want to do it yourself.
So, you decide to experiment.
Yazmin's durability extended to her skin, muscles, and bones, but not to her internal organs. A fight with Enforcer once nearly killed her after he ruptured her spleen; Nora had to rig together a diamond tipped-saw to allow the surgeons to operate on her. But now, the question is: if Yazmin's clone is invincible where she was once durable, does that mean she's merely durable where she was once invincible?
One way to find out.
One more exchange. You have it in you for one more exchange. You feint a charge that the clone bites on. She steps forward and extends her fist, trying to crush your throat. But you've already ducked low to the ground, under her, and are cartwheeling on your hands. You flip upside down as your legs come up, and, as they pass Yazmin, you clamp them around her. You use your momentum to pull her to the ground, and then complete your turn so you land on her chest.
You raise a fist and fill it with what power you have left.
After one of your many spars, you and Yazmin laid on the ground together. You were both totally exhausted, staring into the sky.
"I'd never want to meet you on the battlefield," Yazmin admitted, "You're strong, skilled, and tough as nails."
"You forgot 'ravishing', darling."
Yazmin snorted. "Sure. I've heard Nora wax poetic about your ass too many times to doubt that."
You preened. It is your finest feature.
"But seriously," Yazmin said, "I'm happy we're on the same side."
"That scared of me?"
"Kinda." She turned her head to look at you. "But mostly? I wouldn't want to fight my friend."
Your hand comes down, and you drive a spike of lightning through her chest and into heart.
The clone's eyes go blank, and then it dies.
When Handyman and Black Swan arrive, they see you panting in the wax that was once shaped like your dear friend.
"Never better," you lie, standing up, "But I believe the battle has concluded, yes?"
"Y-yeah," Black Swan says, her voice shaky.
Handyman looks at the soldiers fleeing into the APCs. "We save a lot of those guys. Not they'll thank us, but . . . hey, it's what heroes do, yeah?"
You give a small smile. "Indeed. Now, we must reunite with everyone else. Black Swan, you are to withdraw immediately."
"B-but—!"
"No arguments. I've never seen you so injured. Go into the atmosphere and recharge as much as you can. Keep your communicator on you and we'll contact you as soon as we need you. But you must be ready, understand?"
It's strange, talking to someone who is just a torso and head, but she finds a way to nod.
"O-okay. I don't think I can kick butt right now anyhow—"
DC 10.
Stat Check: HIT 9. Black Swan has HIT 12.
You rolled: 1.
1 + 1 + 2 (Critical Injury) = 4. Failure!
You let your guard down. You thought the battle was over, and you let your guard down.
You hear him before you see him. The tell-tale sound of a sonic boom. Then, a white streak that smashes into Black Swan and savagely beats her into the ground until only her core is left.
Black Swan takes one injury level! Incapacitated!
Handyman tries to grab him, but he rips off the shapechanger's arm before he can try the same trick as before.
Handyman takes one injury level! Severe injury!
He turns to you, eyes cold as The Frozen Throne. In them, is a flash of triumph.
White Hawk attacks.
* * *
You are Yara Oliveira.
Today should be the worst day of your life. She wasn't just waiting to see if you were a metahuman. She never planned for you to join her. She never even told her team about you.
Yazmin was never coming for you.
What was naming herself "Uiara" about then? A cruel joke?
No . . . it wasn't. She did love you. She hired Triss to protect you after all. She willed you her shares of the company—as much a curse as that has turned out to be—and she begged her team to protect you in the event of her death.
In a way, you feel betrayed. Yazmin wasn't some shining goddess who would ferry you away to a better life. But, at the same time, you're relieved. Your sister was a deeply flawed person who apparently was a poor roommate with an exhibitionist streak, but she did her best nonetheless. She wasn't just "Uiara". She was a person.
A person you'll never get to know. But, also a person who gave you a final gift worth more than all of your stock dividends until the end of time: her team.
Justice Unlimited is wonderful. Kind, warm, funny, everything a family should be. You were with them for less than an hour and you could see how much they cared about each other. The jokes that weren't just veiled barbs. The open displays of emotion that weren't met with scorn. The questions about each other's interests, their feelings, their lives.
You don't care if Lady Leizi is just trying to manipulate you. If she can fake something like that? You'll happily believe her lies until the day you die.
Which might be sooner than you would like.
Dammit. You should have read more of Black Swan's pornography.
You don't know where you are. It's some grassy hill underneath a great tree. You think you can see your house in the distance, but you're honestly not sure. Triss has one arm wrapped around you—the one with her half-cape—and another holding her drawn sword. Doctor Silver has you both wrapped in a bear hug, strong and comforting.
Is this what a father is supposed to be like?
The madwoman . . . Socialite Butterfly, she's ranting and raving behind the man with eight glowing arms. Next to him, Memoria from The Defiance Unit stares blankly. You're not 100% certain as to what's going on, but, from her monologue, it seems like she can copy people and wants to clone you?
Honestly? If it weren't for the fact that she was also going to kill you, that would be fine. She wants Yara Oliveira's life? She can have it.
But instead, you have to listen to her rant more while being crushed by two protectors.
"This day! This day! This day has been a travesty!" she shrieks, "I've lost more Admirers today than I have in the last year! After all the effort I went through to create them, just for this special occasion. Useless, all of them! And then, most terribly of all, a pimple-faced pig dares strike me! Me!"
Her eyes are crazed as spittle flies from her mouth. She then throws her head back, and starts laughing maniacally.
"But I'll still win. I'll always win. I am perfect, and I must always win!" she screams, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. She points at the three of you. "I'll add the rung-trash to my Admirers, dispose of the old man, and then rid the world of one more Oliveira—no."
She stops suddenly. The way she looks at you makes you shiver in fear.
"I have some . . . associates who could use some fresh specimens. Yes . . . I'd love to see what they make you into. Yes, yes . . . you'll live for a while longer yet. Poetic justice!"
She starts laughing again. Triss tightens her grip on you, and you feel something dig into your side.
Right! The stuff Triss got from Lady Leizi. You pull them out of your pocket and surreptitiously look at them.
DC 5.
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 1. Yara has OPERATIONS 2.
You rolled: 2.
2 + 0 + 3 (It's Labeled) = 5. Success!
One of them is that shield-thing Lady Leizi and Menagerie Witch had. The other is a vial with something inside it. It's white, and vaguely looks like a fungus? It's gross, but also kinda cool. What is it?
Oh! There's a label! It says, "Mendicant's Little Freak. Extra Life, Guaranteed".
. . . what? What? What?! Is this . . . is this a symbiote made by Mendicant?! This thing was worth twelve of your houses. It was probably the single most valuable thing you've ever held, and Lady Leizi just gave it to you?
Leviathan's Blood, if you didn't believe in her before, you certainly do now. And lowkey have a crush on her, despite the fact that you don't like girls, but that's beside the point. Wow.
"—don't not ignore me, you bitch!" Socialite Butterfly shrieks.
"Oh! Sorry!" you say reflexively. Has she been talking to you this whole time? Oops.
"Keep her talking," Doctor Silver hisses, "I'm working on something. I got a plan."
"O-okay!," you whisper back. But, um, how are you supposed to do that?
DC 10.
Stat Check: ESPIONAGE 10. Doctor Silver, Belle Sabreuse, and Yara have ESPIONAGE 13.
You rolled: 9.
9 + 1 = 10. Success!
"S-so how has your day been?" you ask, interrupting Socialite Butterfly.
"Excuse me?" she says, her voice low and dangerous.
"Oh, wait! It's going terribly. You said that already! Sorry!" you squeak, "So, uh, um, you hate my sister, huh?"
"That tramp stole me sister—!"
"Question!" you say, raising your hand. Triss looks at you, begging you to stop talking with her eyes. But your mouth keeps moving. "Why do you say she 'stole' your sister? You weren't around when Harper was little, right?"
"You bitch! How dare you?! You understand nothing! I was the only one who even truly cared about Harper!"
"W-what about your parents?" you ask weakly. You expect her to ignore you, but that seems to set her off. She screams so loudly, you think you see a blood vessel burst in her eye.
"Our 'parents' cared about one thing and one thing only: inheriting the family fortune! Oh, they had enough to live adequate lives, but how it rankled them to have to subsist on the largess of their betters. Uncle Issac is childless, and they saw me as the perfect opportunity to take control of English-McLeod!"
She starts pacing back and forth, not even really looking at you.
"To that end, I had to be perfect from the day I was born. The perfect daughter and the perfect niece to convince the old fool to leave everything to me, and thus, place it within my parent's grasp. So they made me perfect."
Her eyes don't see you right now. She's somewhere else.
"I would study every night until my eyes lost focus! I practiced music until my fingers bled! I knew no other children my age—my only the harshest of tutors were my company. And they made sure I was perfect. If I missed a question on a test, I would be served rotten food. If I refused to eat it, I would be denied use of the bathroom. If I refused my lessons, I would spend days alone in a dark closet. And if I were to openly resist? Well . . . Father was fond of his rubber hose."
You lock eyes with her. A little girl stares back at you.
"But it worked. I was more refined, more intelligent, more talented than all my peers.I was—am—perfect. Pain was truly the finest teacher."
Her eyes darken.
"But only I could see it. The others thought me arrogant or conceited. So they had to learn their lessons. And I was careful. No one ever linked the bodies to me," she says with a self-satisfied smirk, "My parents spoke in hushed voices where they thought I could not hear. They called me 'a monster'. They said they 'broke me' and that they would have to start again."
Her expression turns ugly.
"So they had a second child. An unforgivable insult! As if they could improve on me! Me! They squirreled my little sister away where they thought I could not find her, but they underestimated their eldest child. One night, when she was an infant, I found Harper. And that night, I went to set things right."
Then, to your surprise, she gives a dreamy smile. Her face becomes rapturous, sublimely happy.
"Then, a miracle happened. Right before I smothered her, Harper woke up. But she didn't cry. She didn't scream. She didn't do all of the disgusting things children do. She grabbed my finger and giggled at me. Me."
Socialite Butterfly illustrates by grabbing her left index finger and cradling it to her chest. There are actual tears in her eyes.
"That infant recognized what no one else could. I was perfect. And for that, that night I deigned to let her live. Just for that, I would let Harper live by my side for the rest of her life."
The ugly expression returns, her brown knit, her nostrils flared.
"But my parents sent me away. To boarding school, where I couldn't 'embarrass them'. But, worse still, I realized they weren't going to make Harper perfect too. She was allowed to cry, to fail, to be mediocre without proper correction. They were going to ruin her!"
And, just like that, the little girl in her eyes is gone. Only madness remains.
"But, by then, I had my power. I could make them perfect Harper. Oh, she resented me at first, but, in time, she would have come to appreciate what I was doing for her. Until your sister spoiled it!She took her away! She made her a 'hero'. And it was her that led her to her death when those arrogant fools woke the Leviathan!"
She's screaming. She's sobbing. She's absolutely out of her fucking mind and—
"B-by the time I figured out a way around that damned Apiary, it was too late. Harper was gone, a-and she wasn't even one of my Admirers. I-I have . . . have . . . I have . . ."
You feel sorry for her.
"Nothing to remember her by," you finish, sadly, "She's gone, but, if you had cloned her, you could at least see her if you wanted to. Now, you don't even have that."
"You—!"
". . . I can relate. I have a better idea of what my sister looked like with the mask on than without."
"You—!"
"She . . . I think she loved me, but I'll never know. It's hard. It's like—"
"You dare pity me?!"
Uh oh.
"That's not what I meant!" you lie, hastily, "I, uh, was, um, expressing sympathy for your loss—{ah, shoot}. {That sounds like the same thing, doesn't it?}"
Socialite Butterfly looks at you with sheer, dripping malice. "I've changed my mind. You don't need your limbs to join my Admirers."
She points at you and claps her hands. Then she speaks to the eight-armed guy.
"Cut off her arms and legs. Kill anyone who gets in your way!"
Triss stiffens. Doctor Silver swears.
"Dammit. Just a little more time, just a little more time . . ."
But there is no more time.
The eight-armed guy turns to you like a sentry and walks forward. He doesn't run—he moves slowly, inevitably, like the tide. He's missing one of the arms on his body, but somehow it feels like you're the ones at a disadvantage.
Doctor Silver tries suffocating Socialite Butterfly again, but she's prepared for it and destroys his barrier with the same device again.
Doctor Silver loses 1 charge! Charges remaining: 1.
Triss pulls you close and whispers in your ear. "Please, please, stay out of the way. Run as soon as you can. It's been my . . . it's been my honor to spend this time with you."
Then she gets up and walks to her doom. Doctor Silver stands as well.
"Stay here, kid. We'll be right back. Oh, and if you tell anyone about this later, could you say I was shirtless? I feel like this would be more impressive if I was shirtless."
Six arms disappear from the approaching warrior, and they reappear in the air around Triss. She holds up her sword to her eyes, salutes, and charges.
DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 15. Doctor Silver, Belle Sabreuse, and Yara have HIT 12.
You rolled: 10.
10 - 1 = 9. Failure!
A flail. An axe. A cutlass. A spear. A dagger. A mace. A hammer. A net. Each of his glowing arms wields a different weapon with the skill of a master. Triss is just one woman with one blade—taught by an old man well past his prime, she once told you—but somehow, she holds.
None of his weapons can pierce clothing as dense as a neutron star, nor can they stand against the weight of her blade. She knocks each attacking object away with a flick of her saber, swatting them like flies. Her footwork is impeccable, as she slowly advances on the goliath in front of her.
He retracts several arms to counter her advance, but there lies his weakness: there's only so much room for each arm to swing. Triss stays close to his body, ensuring his arms get in each other's way. She remains purely on defense, biding her time, until the name overextends on a thrust. She ducks low. He tries to catch her with the haft of his axe, but a blue pane of light blocks it.
Doctor Silver's shield absorbs one injury level for Belle Sabreuse! Charges remaining: 0.
She leaps forwards and drives the tip of her sword into the armpit of his remaining human arm.
That should be enough to kill him. That should cause a normal person to quickly bleed to death. But this is no ordinary person, and Triss is left scrambling.
He grabs Triss with his remaining flesh arm, heedless of any injury as she stabs him again and again. Now, she's the one too close to get any leverage to cut him in half. Two of his glowing arms drop their weapons, grab Triss' head and squeeze.
Belle Sabreuse takes one injury level! Superficial injury!
She screams and pulls out a belt-knife and stabs both arms until they let her go. But then she doesn't see the dagger arm come low—
And stab her in the eye.
Belle Sabreuse takes one injury level! Severe injury!
Belle Sabreuse takes one injury level! Critical injury!
Triss lets out a yelp of agony that freezes your blood. She never wants you to know when she's in pain. Never. She knocks the arm away, and Doctor Silver rushes and places a red glow on her. You can hear him cursing how "he's out".
Triss looks back at you, and you see the damage. The knife couldn't cut through her domino mask, but the blade was long enough to gouge out her eye. There's nothing left in the socket; it's a ruined mess of blood and gore. You can just hear her whisper something to you.
"R-run."
The arms surround her. And then the blades fall.
DC 8.
Stat Check: HIT 1. Yara has HIT 1.
You rolled: 3.
3 + 5 (Why Not Save Yourself?) = 8. Success!
Triss can't block them all. Doctor Silver can't save her or himself. They'll die. There's nothing anyone can do.
No.
There is someone who can do something.
Your body moves before you understand what's happening. You're running like Triss told you to, but toward them. The shield generator is clenched in one hand. You throw it at Triss, just as she's about to lose her head. It crackles to life and a blue wall of light spares your friend. Another crackles around Doctor Silver to protect him.
The Shield Generator absorbs one injury level and is destroyed.
The Shield Generator absorbs one injury level and is destroyed.
But he's just going to swing again. You've bought her seconds, not enough to make a difference.
Well . . . that lonely woman needs you alive, right?
You jump in front of Triss and Doctor Silver and—
Several blades of metal, cold and sharp, pierce your flesh. You suddenly can't breathe. Someone is screaming, but you don't know what. Your blood, hot and wet, feeds and stains ground beneath you.
You feel cold.
Yara takes one injury level! Severe injury!
Yara takes one injury level! Critical injury!
Yara takes one injury level! Yara has died.
* * *
You are Doctor Silver.
You've never hated Zixuan like you do right now. You're not a fool. You understand more about the inner workings of Project Prometheus than anyone in this world save Emeril, Sarah, and maybe Wolong. As soon as you saw the formula for your dose of Ambrosia, you knew what Zixuan was telling you.
Power at a price. You can become a metahuman, but your abilities will not help you find revenge. Give up on your quest. Protect others.
You can't. Whenever you close your eyes, you see Nat burning. Oh, sure, you let yourself be swept up in the moment. You wanted to forget. Being a superhero is fun, exciting, everything you ever wanted it to be. In another life, you could happily spend the rest of your life doing this.
You tried to pretend your soul wasn't crying out for justice. But it is. In the end, everything has just been a distraction.
There are still monsters who kill little girls out there. They still have to die. If you don't kill them—if you 'let go of revenge'—then this happens.
Then Yara Oliveira dies in front of you.
"You blithering fool! You idiot! Don't kill her! Don't kill her! I need her alive to add her to my Admirers!" that red psycho screams.
Man o' War withdraws his blades and steps back. Yara slumps to the ground, laying in a pool of her own blood.
"No!" Belle Sabreuse sobs, "No, no, no, no. . . no . . . !"
She says the same thing you feel.
"Not again!"
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit, Zixuan. She gave you all this power, and you can't even stop this?! You can't even kill this thing to save someone?! All you were able to do is broadcast your location and pray.
Fat load of good that did.
Tears burn down your cheeks. The light is fading from Yara's eyes, another face interposed over hers in your mind. The fool used the shield generator to save you two, the one you gave her. Now, all she has left is—
Please.
You push Belle Sabreuse to the side. You'll apologize later. Please, please, please. Where is it? Where is it?! It's . . .
Yara uses the last of her strength to raise a clenched hand. In it is what you've been looking for: Mendicant's symbiote.
You yank it free, open the applicator, jab it into Yara's arm, and press the button. There's a pneumatic hiss as the symbiote is set free.
You hold your breath. For one count. Then two. Three.
Yara gasps as you watch her flesh knit back together, her bones snap back into place. It's like watching days and weeks of recovery on timelapse. In seconds, she's perfectly okay. No, better than okay. Her skin is free of blemishes, she glows with health, and you think her teeth are a little straighter.
Yara recovers four injury levels! No injury! The healing symbiote is consumed!
"Ha!" the psychopath shrieks, "I never doubted things would resolve in my favor. I always prevail—"
"Fucking shut up you monologuing fucking fuck and fucking die! Eat shadow snakes!"
A viper as thick as you are wide drops from the sky and wraps around Man o' War. In the sky, Menagerie Witch, Valiant Gold, and . . . Stockpile descend on Nevermores.
The calvary is here.
* * *
You are Valiant Gold.
You're going to end this, right now.
You don't care if you were nearly too late. You don't care if only Doctor Silver's quick thinking let you know where to go. You don't care that Stockpile tagged along.
The fight ends here.
DC 15.
Stat Check: HIT 12. Valiant Gold, Valiant Justice, and Menagerie Witch have a combined HIT 21.
You rolled: 18.
18 + 4 = 22. Success!
You drop from your Nevermore, closing your arms and legs to accelerate your fall. Stockpile is right behind you. You race toward Man o' War, who is standing perfectly still. The Apep rears back and bites him on the neck, but he doesn't react.
"Fight back! Fight back you idiot!" Socialite Butterfly screams, but it's too late.
You're already there.
You land on Man o' War's back, trying to break his back. You don't succeed, but now you're on his shoulders.
Activate Module: Rock.
You grab his head, put your feet behind his neck, and wrench with all your might. Then, you twist.
There's a sickening crack, but he's still alive. His arms appear around you—
And Stockpile lands and slashes his throat.
The cut from the energy-blade is so deep that it nearly decapitates him. His head lolls back on his neck, like a half-opened can. You fall backwards at the sudden, unexpected lack of resistance.
Activate Module: Scissors.
But you manage to catch yourself as you land. Man o' War turns, wobbling like a drunk, still not dead.
But you can fix that.
You and Stockpile charge him from different sides, both swinging. Your arm traces a line from the top of his left shoulder to his right hip. As you look back, you see that Stockpile did the same thing on the opposite side and together you've made a giant "X" into the center of Man o' War's torso.
He stands still for just one moment more. Then, his body slides apart and he, mercifully, finally, dissolves into a pile of wax. He's dead.
You stand up, chest heaving. You're exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally, but it's not yet over. You have to finish off Social—
"Surrender!" Stockpile barks, "We've defeated your minions. There's no getting out of this!"
No. No. No. Stop talking, idiot! She obviously has a contingency plan. You rush her as fast as you can.
Socialite Butterfly laughs, high and mocking. "It's that what you believe?"
There's a white energy coming off her, solidifying into a film.
You make a blade, leap, and stab. You're aiming for her head, no time to try for something non-lethal. You thrust down—
And freeze in place. All momentum stops. You can't even turn your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the same has happened to Stockpile, mid-teleport. You try moving, but it's like there's not enough energy in the world to rouse your body.
Wait. No. It can't be . . .
Heavenly Astrologian descends from high in the sky, her gaze unwaveringly on all of you.
Mom.
No, not your mom. A clone. A copy. A cheap imitation. One that has to go or you will all die.
Module: Paper currently disabled.
You gnash your teeth. No long range attacks right now. And you're stuck. Okay, this is bad, but—
Radiant Silvergirl drops next to her. Your heart seizes in your chest.
"Back already?" Socialite Butterfly coos, "I suppose those others didn't put up much of a fight, did they?"
Don't think about what that means. She could be lying. Stay calm.
The energy from Socialite Butterfly has totally solidified into a seven-foot tall, woven oval. It's like a coffin or a sarcophagus. No . . . wait. It's not like that at all. It's like a chrysalis.
"Did you fools think you had won? That you had been me? Me? I've been collecting Admirers for twenty years! No one is more brilliant than I, and I have access to the most powerful metahumans in the city. I have not remained anonymous all this time by chance!"
She gives you all a bloodthirsty smile, like a coyote licking its chops.
"Allow me to show you why I've been undefeated all this time!"
The chrysalis shakes. Once, twice, thrice. Then it cracks, a long split down the middle. A gauntleted hand punches free, and starts tearing its prison open. Like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, a woman dressed in blue armor with a red, winged helmet over her eyes breaks free.
Justiciar stands before you.
"C-captain . . ." Stockpile says, shell-shocked.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no!
Socialite Butterfly revels in your horror. "Wonderful, isn't she? She's just been a darling to me all these years, hasn't she?"
She strokes the clone's face.
"But, she's not quite ready. Her power is useful, but having to confirm every infraction of every Edict is such a bother," she says, "Let's do away with it."
From behind the trees, steps a seven-foot tall man, emaciated man. His limbs are long and gangly, his head shaven, and thin red veins run throughout his body. The only way you can recognize him is by his face, though even that is different from his originator's appearance. This face isn't stretched between two, massive red horns.
It's Scarlet Maturity, before any of his power-boosts.
Scarlet Maturity walks over to Justiciar, takes a hand, and plunges it into his chest. He digs around, through his own muscle and blood, until he clenches something and pulls it out. In his hand, is a ball of red, glowing energy. It's so dense, it almost looks solid. He reaches over and places it in Justiciar's mouth.
Who swallows. And then glows bright red herself before the light fades.
"Excellent," Socialite Butterfly laughs, "Now, issue my edicts!"
She leans over and whispers in Justiciar's ears. You don't need to wonder about what they are, for they echo through your mind in the next second. EXCEED-BEYOND protects you from the compulsion to obey them, but you hear them all the same.
"EDICT: ALL THINKING CREATURES MUST LOVE SOCIALITE BUTTERFLY WITH ALL THEIR HEARTS. PUNISHMENT: A LOSS OF ALL MOTOR SKILLS."
No.
"EDICT: ALL THINKING CREATURES MUST RECOGNIZE THEY ARE LOWER THAN DIRT COMPARED TO SOCIALITE BUTTERFLY. PUNISHMENT: A LOSS OF ALL SENSORIUM."
No, no, no—
"EDICT: ALL THINKING CREATURES NOT NAMED YARA OLIVEIRA OR KAITLYN ENGLISH MUST KILL THEMSELVES. PUNISHMENT: CONSTANT STIMULATION OF THE PAIN CENTERS OF THEIR BRAINS."
No, no, no, no, no, no, no—!
* * *
You are Lady Leizi.
You, Handyman, and White Hawk were squaring off before a psychic voice rang through your mind. Then, all three of you collapsed on the ground.
Then your world was obliterated by raw, sheer, unrelenting pain unlike you've ever felt before. It erases every sensation, every feeling, every memory. You are reduced to a beast desperately, desperately trying to do anything you can to escape it. But there is no running. There is no relief.
You know only one thing will make it stop.
* * *
You are Châtelet.
Sunlight Knight was in your arms, bleeding to death, as you hid from the copy of your cousin's lover. You had just gotten the tourniquet on when three ultimatums were drilled into your skull.
Now, you're dying. No, not dying, dying would be heaven compared to this. You're thrashing around in your own mind, dying but not being allowed to die.
You have to do that yourself.
* * *
You are Valiant Gold.
You don't hesitate. You don't watch everyone collapse. You don't let yourself think about what they must be feeling. You don't fear that you're too late.
Kyoko Shirayuki stands before a throne of fetid meat, it's very form a threat to sanity. From it, something burbles.
"Yes," she says, face devoid of feeling, "It registered on my equipment as well. It seems the Woman-in-Blue has made her move. It could be no one else."
Hand chatters, a refrain of skittering legs and rotted flesh.
"I don't doubt Augur has noticed either. This will motivate him to act."
Life is a never ending cycle of bloom and decay, all that is will eventually become that which is not, the tallest trees eaten by the smallest of microbes. What even is the point then? Free will is an illusion, surrender being a freedom from pain—
"No. Oscar was never patient. If anything interrupts his 'golden route', he'll burn it all down and start again. We must focus on this. Let the Mysteries fight the inevitable war with the Hours. Apotheosis cares for nothing but its own time."
A tap, almost gentle.
"Lilith has been disobedient, but, for once, that works to our favor. She's looking for her sister too. You spoil that child."
A crushing weight, a fungal hammer of malice.
"Then rid yourself of me. It matters not, in the end."
And with that, the Speaker of The Hand of the Mysteries leaves.
* * *
The Interlocutor looks up.
The games with the not-mes have been amusing as of late, but even it can grow weary of repetition. Novelty and an answer to its question are what it truly seeks.
But, now, this is curious.
The creature touches its chest with a hand connected to a much too-long arm.
"What is it we feel now?" it asks out loud, "Such warmth. Such joy. What a curious feeling to have. The not-mes never cease to surprise me."
It continues its search. In Horizon for certain, but where is she? Ah well, today has been worthwhile for this alone, at least. It enjoys its "good mood".
"Pride in someone else. How very unique a sensation."
* * *
[Inquiry: Usual readings from Patrol Zone Omega. Source of anomaly?]
[ERROR: Anomaly outside programmed area of operation. Disregard.]
[Disagreement: Leviathan's head has shifted zero-point-zero-zero-zero-zero-one degree toward southwest. Shift coincided with anomalous readings. Connection likely.]
[ERROR: Anomaly outside programmed area of operation. Disregard.]
[Petulant, Sarcastic Retort: Yes, this will help accomplish an unaccomplishable objective. ALSW-2 has enjoyed such success since activation.]
[ERROR: Anomaly outside programmed area of operation. Disregard.]
[Vulgar Epitaph: Eat a dick.]
* * *
You are Ellie Han.
A chorus echoes faintly in the air. Many voices, all singing distinctly different songs, but somehow in perfect harmony. It's beautiful, spoiled only by three booming notes out of sync.
You open your eyes.
You're at a desk in a great library, surrounded by shelves and shelves of books. Behind you is a statue of the Vitruvian Man, only it has Mona's face. On the third story, well above where you are on the ground, is a curtain leading to a balcony. It's where the music is coming from.
The Stage.
You leap to your feet. No time. You can't appreciate where you are or what's going on. You have to get on the Stage right now.
But as you race to a ladder, a hand grabs your arm with a cast-iron grip.
"Where do you think you're going?" a woman with red hair asks, "Do you have an idea what you're doing?"
"No," you reply, pulling free, "But I'm doing it anyway."
She's tall, Lady Leizi's height, and has bright red hair down to the small of her back. There are deep-set bags around her blue eyes, her face wan like she hasn't eaten properly in years. However, there's an unmistakably vitality to her, a subtle aura of power. She wears a yellow sweater and blue jeans, and seems as surprised as you are that she has them on.
"You've created a psychic event that's disrupted the entire collective gestalt. Every psychic in the world can feel what you're doing."
"Good," you reply, walking toward the stairs.
She flies—no, lifts herself with her mind—and gets in your way. She looks at you like an insect.
"What is your name, girl?"
You push past her. "Valiant Gold."
Telekinetic bands bind your limbs. The woman crushes you, fury in her eyes.
"That name doesn't belong to you!"
But she's a guest here. This is your place. And she can only do what you allow her to. You break free from her grasp and run up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
"Yes, it is."
She levitates, trying to keep up with you as you barrel on ahead.
"You don't understand what you're doing! You don't know what it's like out there. It will kill you. It will betray you. It will take everything!"
She clutches her abdomen with both arms as she says that.
"I don't care." You're at the curtain now.
"Wait!" She cries, "What will you do when you're out there?"
What an odd question. There's only one thing to do. It feels so obvious now. There's only one thing Nora's final weapon could be.
You look at her and her name comes to your mind. Cordelia Reed, a.k.a. Valkyrie. You give her an unimpressed look before replying.
"The only thing I can do. I'm going to ask for help."
Then you're beyond the curtain and among the chorus.
You call for help. And three voices respond. They are:
Plan Name [ ]
-[Metahuman 1]
-[Metahuman 2]
-[Metahuman 3]
Choose three deceased metahumans, regardless of potency or if you have their DNA profiles. Their powers will combine into a new powerset. All keywords will be revealed. All learned synergies, if any, will be shown.
Cast in the name of good. Exceed beyond.
Currently:
Doctor Silver has one injury level.
Black Swan is incapacitated.
Sunlight Knight is incapacitated.
Lady Leizi has three injury levels.
Handyman has two injury levels.
Belle Sabreuse has three injury levels.
Menagerie Witch has one injury level.
Menagerie Witch has one shield generator.
Doctor Silver has 0 charges of his shields remaining. He has placed the Hustle on Belle Sabreuse.
