- Location
- not here
My condolences. Exams are a plague. Finally getting out of uni was the happiest day of my life. Probably happier than getting married (don't tell my wife that 
)
)
Ring-Maker [Worm/Lord of the Rings Alt-Power] [Complete]
- Thread starter Lithos Maitreya
- Start date
- Crossover Users' Choice!
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
That's fine. As someone with an update schedule of "whenever I can get enough written to justify calling it a chapter", I fully understand your pain. *sympathetic hugs*
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Flicker 8.3 is, at long last, going through the final stage of edits. It will be posted sometime in the next 18 hours.
- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
YEEEEE!! *happysqueals of delight!*
Flicker 8.3
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Many thanks to @Assembler, @themanwhowas, @fabledFreeboota, @Skyrunner, @BeaconHill, and ShadowStepper 1300 for betareading.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
A spray of gunfire met us as Armsmaster threw the wooden doors open. Armsmaster turned his face away from the bullets, and I saw his mask shift to allow plates to fold out, covering his mouth and chin.
"Get to cover!" he ordered over the clatter of bullets against his armor.
My teammates ducked behind the doorway. I couldn't join them—Narya couldn't free the civilians from that distance.
Instead, I dove past him, into the church. Bullets pinged off of my pauldrons and helm as I surged forward, head low, and charged behind a pew, more bullets sinking into the wood with muffled thuds.
One man was right on the other side of the pew, and as I slid into cover, he pointed his gun down at me. I was faster, and I met his eyes as Narya flared on my finger.
Those dull, blank eyes cleared and blinked at me, bright blue and a little watery. The man's half-open mouth, framed by a trimmed brown beard, closed. I saw him swallow. A faintest expression of mingled relief and revulsion crossed his face.
Then a bullet burst through the center of his forehead. Blood and flecks of gore exploded from the exit wound, spattering me, staining my armor and my face with red. The man slumped and fell, his ruined face turned towards me as it lay upon the back of the pew.
I couldn't see his eyes, but I couldn't shake the feeling that their gaze was on me, hurt and accusing.
I was shaking. I couldn't look away. On a nervous impulse, I licked my lips, and tasted the coppery tang of blood that wasn't mine.
Distantly, I knew what had happened. Valefor ordered them to kill each other if I freed them. He knows I don't work instantly.
But how had he known? Or had he simply left the compulsion as a gamble, on the off-chance that it might work? And what was the point? These people were innocent—what purpose did killing them serve? It didn't help him beat me, it didn't help him fight the Protectorate. If anything, it made him only more likely to be taken seriously—which increased the chances that someone truly scary, like Legend or Alexandria, might be sent to Brockton Bay to stop him. Why escalate like this?
Why kill this man?
And, more pressingly, there was a traitorous little part of my brain that didn't agree that Valefor had killed this man at all.
Suddenly, there was an arm around me, and a voice screaming in my ear. "Annatar! Taylor!"
I blinked, and the world came back into focus. "Don't say my name, Shadow Stalker," I said evenly, turning away from the dead man to the girl crouching in cover beside me.
"You weren't—" she stopped herself, and then started again. "Dragon's going to foam the building, we need to fall back!"
I nodded. "Okay. Go, I'll be right behind you."
She turned into a wisp of shadow and sped away, out towards the doorway, and I followed, keeping low as the bullets pinged off of my armor.
Soon I was outside, and there was Dragon, right in front of me, a large cannon protruding from one shoulder. "Out of the way, please," she said, perfectly calm.
I stepped aside into the cover of the wall, and the moment I was clear, the cannon fired. Containment foam blossomed forth in a veritable river, bursting into the building and expanding to fill the hall.
Dragon kept spraying until the blob of hardening foam stretched from the doorway to the pulpit, covering up every one of Valefor's armed thralls. When the cannon retracted, she turned to me. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.
"Fine," I said, raising a red-stained hand to uselessly wipe away at the blood on my face. "It's not mine."
"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. We should have led with containment foam."
"Why didn't we?" Sophia asked, and her voice was harsh. "If we had—"
"It was entirely possible that Valefor would be absent," Armsmaster interrupted. "As he was. We needed to know that immediately. In addition, had Annatar managed to free a civilian, we might have been able to ask them where he went, or about his other operations. It made sense to try a more measured approach first."
"But it didn't work out this time," said Dragon, still looking at me. "Annatar, I'm sorry. Are you certain you're all right?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "I just—I want to hunt down Valefor and be done with this."
"Agreed," Armsmaster said grimly. "But we don't have a lot of options. The church was our best lead, and he seems to have slipped away."
"We'll find him," Dragon reassured him. "But we need to get back to the PRT perimeter."
PRT vans had blocked off the street and the troopers were setting up a wooden barrier. As we passed it, Dragon turned aside, glowing blue eyes looking back over the road behind us, and the church still visible only a couple blocks away. "I'm sorry about the bad intel," she told Armsmaster. "He definitely was there."
"I believe you," he said firmly. "It's not your fault. He's slippery. Can you and Annatar locate him again?"
"I think so," she said. "Especially since we won't be working alone."
Armsmaster frowned. "Did the PRT call in another thinker?"
"You could say that," came a voice from beside one of the vans.
There stood a girl with long blond hair, her teeth bared in a sly smile which reminded me uncomfortably of Valefor's. She was leaning against the PRT vehicle, wearing a blank white costume, and her familiar green eyes were roving over us. She wasn't hard to place. "Tattletale," I growled.
"What," said Amy, in a voice as hard and cold as a glacier, "is she doing here?"
"We need all the help we can get." Dragon turned to us, her mask arranging into a sheepish expression. "Now isn't the time for grudges."
"Besides, Tattletale isn't here," said Tattletale easily. "The PRT paid Faultline extra just to make sure Tattletale was absolutely not here. No sir. Definitely doing something completely unrelated right now. Hey, Panacea, been a while. How's your family?"
"Tattletale, please," said Dragon, her gritted teeth audible even through her helmet speakers.
"No, go right ahead, Tattletale," I said, giving the blonde a smile that was all teeth. "Keep baiting Panacea. I want to see what happens."
Tattletale blinked at me. "Hey, Annatar," she said. "How's Grue—oh, sorry, Fume?"
"He's well," I said. "I like to think we're a better team for him."
To her credit, Tattletale's composure didn't even waver as she chuckled. "I suppose it's sensible to make sure his cage is gilded," she acknowledged. "Didn't expect you to be giving up one of your main modules this early, though. How's Panacea enjoying it?"
"Stop." Armsmaster's voice was clipped and burned with barely-contained anger and contempt captured everyone's attention. "Tattletale, you're rapidly becoming a liability. I wasn't involved in hiring you—"
"Hired, me?" Tattletale put a hand on her chest in mock surprise. "I told you, I'm doing something completely—"
"You are five seconds from me foaming you and taking you into custody, supervillain," said Armsmaster evenly. "Shut up. And get to work."
Tattletale narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yep, you're serious. Like to see that, but we've got bigger problems."
"Yes, we do," agreed Dragon. "Tattletale, Annatar, please come with me. We need to talk, and you need to see the footage I've recovered."
"The rest of you, stay here," Armsmaster ordered, looking around at the other Wards. "We'll try to coordinate the other heroes and help maintain containment."
"Panacea," I said quickly, "can you try to find them as well? With Nenya?"
She nodded, still looking after Tattletale with narrowed eyes. Nenya's light was shimmering around her like a faint corona. "Already working on it. Don't have much to go on, though. For all we know, they have a teleporter. But I'm trying."
"Thanks."
As I turned away, Panacea touched my arm. "Tell her," she said lowly, "that if she doesn't get her act together, I'm going to kill her."
I glanced at her. Amy met my eyes. Hers were dark and furious. "I'll tell her," I promised.
Amy nodded sharply and turned away.
I waved goodbye to my team and followed Dragon and Tattletale past the line of PRT troopers and vans to another PRT van, set a little apart from the others. Spilling out of the back of it was an array of screens and computer consoles, with everything from images, to video, to charts on them. The moment they came into view, Tattletale sped up, passing Dragon to reach this array.
"These graphs," she said slowly. "Why—seismic activity?"
"Look at the spike," Dragon said. "Just about half an hour ago."
Tattletale's eyes narrowed as she studied the chart. The graph was mostly just squiggles to me; a low-amplitude line of activity with a small surge recently.
"You think he tunneled under the church?" Tattletale asked.
"I think it's a possibility, but your instincts are better than mine."
"I don't think he has a cape that could do it. Explosives would be more obvious. I think a couple of local capes might have been able to do it, but it might also just be a natural spike. Can I see a longer timescale?"
Dragon nodded. "I'm pulling one up now. Annatar, can you switch modules and—"
"Rings," Tattletale interrupted absently, looking over the new graph. "We're all grown-ups here. No need for euphemisms."
Dragon sighed. "Can you switch Rings and begin trying to isolate Valefor?"
I nodded and pulled out the Jewelry Box.
"No," Tattletale decided as I switched Rings. "No, this spike is totally within usual margins. My power doesn't think it's Valefor."
"Okay," said Dragon, with an elegant nod. "We'll try something else. Can you take a look at my surveillance footage from over the church?"
Tattletale nodded. "Sure. You think they might have hacked your cameras?"
"I think it's a possibility. I've got algorithms scrubbing them, but I can't guarantee they'd work on tinkertech."
"Well, I'll probably be able to tell. Let's take a look." She glanced over at me. "Annatar, you just… do whatever it is you do."
I nodded, my eyes closing as I focused on Vilya. "Already on it."
As always with Vilya, the difficulty was coming up with a question to ask. The more specific the question, the less likely I was to get a coherent answer. Asking Where will Valefor be in ten minutes? gave me nothing beyond Brockton Bay. Asking In which direction will he be? yielded West, which was almost as useless, since I was currently one block from the coast.
"Wait," Tattletale's voice broke into my thoughts. "Annatar, you detected that Valefor would be at the church, right?"
I opened my eyes and nodded. "Yes. And we know he was—"
"You're a precog," she stressed. "And your powers don't do the whole "technically true" thing. No, either he was still in the church when you got there, or there was something important about that church that led you there, instead of any of the other places he got all those thralls from. Dragon, can you get blueprints of the church?"
"I can certainly try."
"Get anything you have on the grounds, too," Tattletale added. "Call it a hunch."
I watched as Dragon's suit looked away for a moment. I imagined she was working busily on a computer from whatever remote location she was really in.
"Got it," she said. "Pulling it up. I think you were on to something."
A blueprint appeared on one of the screens. "Oh," said Tattletale.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The church's basement was modified a few years ago," said Dragon. "It was linked to an Endbringer shelter."
"And that's where Valefor is," said Tattletale. "Or was. Endbringer shelters tend to have multiple entrances, in case one caves in."
"Why wasn't the entrance to an Endbringer shelter marked?" I asked. "Shouldn't there have been signs?"
"There were," Dragon said dryly. "Valefor is a member of the Fallen. I should have noticed the damaged signs on the street earlier. He must have vandalized them—partly in keeping with the theme of the Fallen, and partly to throw us off his trail."
Tattletale rolled her eyes. "If you'd just let me into the containment area—"
"That wasn't going to happen," said Dragon flatly. "You are still a villain, Tattletale. We're not letting you into an active M/S containment zone."
"I can't work if—"
"Can we get the blueprints to the shelter?" I interrupted.
"I'm working on it," Dragon said. "ShelTech has pretty good encryption. Tinkertech."
Tattletale closed her eyes. Something flickered across her face. "Coil owns that company," she said.
Dragon turned to her. "Really?"
Tattletale nodded. "I worked for him—well, the Undersiders did. He was our sponsor." She grimaced. "Our sugar daddy, if you want."
Some part of me—that same part which found itself drawn to stories, to interesting people and their struggles, that part which had listened raptly as Dean explained his history, and which had known instinctively that the way to win Sophia over was to get her to talk—wanted to go deeper into this. There was a story here, and I wanted to know it. But now wasn't the time. "That might be an opportunity," I said instead. "Assuming we have any active surveillance on Coil, could we use that to get into ShelTech?"
"I can hack into ShelTech's databases with some difficulty," Dragon said. "I'll set a worm to find blueprints." She sighed. The sound came out with an off dusting of static through the speakers. "Still, there are more efficient ways to do this. I'm going to search through the map of Brockton bay, and find the public entrances to this shelter. That'll at least get us started."
"And we can set a PRT perimeter around those entrances," said Tattletale. "That's a good start, at least. There may be another way out, though—especially if Coil's involved." She grinned wryly. "He's a snake, after all."
"But it's better than nothing," said Dragon. "I've contacted Armsmaster and Director Piggot. They're coordinating the PRT response now." She glanced at me. "Annatar, unless you think you have anything else to offer, Piggot wants the Wards to fall back as a reserve force now. You'll be called back in if and when it comes to an assault on the shelter, or we find Valefor elsewhere."
I grimaced. "I was hoping to finish this quickly."
"Endbringer shelters are defensible," Tattletale said dryly. "That's kind of what happens when you build a bunker, even if it's intended to defend from giant monsters instead of capes. With any luck, we can get him contained, and that's enough for now."
"I don't like leaving it half-finished," I grumbled.
"You're not," said Dragon firmly. "You're leaving this part of the job to us. We'll call you when you're needed, Annatar."
"All right." I sighed and shrugged. "You're right. Vilya's not going to be any more help on this one. Sorry I couldn't do more."
"It was worth a shot," said Tattletale. "And, hey, you did a lot for me." She winked. "Always nice to get the scoop on a hero's limitations, as an aspiring mercenary."
"That reminds me." I met her eyes. "Panacea said to tell you that if you didn't get your act together, she'd kill you."
Tattletale rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm shaking in my boots. Spare me."
I considered the thinker for a moment. "If you had to fight Panacea, you'd lose. Badly."
"You think so?" Tattletale snorted. "She's hanging by a thread. She feels like she can't rely on anyone—and, given her family, she's not even wrong. And I have stuff on her she doesn't even know about. I'm not scared of Panacea."
"You should be," I said. "If you think you can break her, I promise you—you're wrong."
"I…." Suddenly, Tattletale met my eyes and fell silent, mouth still open. "Your Ring," she murmured. It wasn't a question.
"And even if she didn't get to you," I said quietly, "I would."
"Annatar," Dragon said warningly, but I ignored her.
Tattletale's mouth failed to close for a moment. Then she managed it, her eyes fixed on mine. She licked her lips. "Message received."
I nodded once and turned to Dragon. "Where are the other Wards now?"
"Headed back to PRT headquarters," Dragon said, faint disapproval in her voice. "I can find their exact location if you want, but you can probably just connect with them by radio."
I nodded. "I'll do that. Good luck, Dragon."
"Same to you, Annatar."
Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
-x-x-x-
A spray of gunfire met us as Armsmaster threw the wooden doors open. Armsmaster turned his face away from the bullets, and I saw his mask shift to allow plates to fold out, covering his mouth and chin.
"Get to cover!" he ordered over the clatter of bullets against his armor.
My teammates ducked behind the doorway. I couldn't join them—Narya couldn't free the civilians from that distance.
Instead, I dove past him, into the church. Bullets pinged off of my pauldrons and helm as I surged forward, head low, and charged behind a pew, more bullets sinking into the wood with muffled thuds.
One man was right on the other side of the pew, and as I slid into cover, he pointed his gun down at me. I was faster, and I met his eyes as Narya flared on my finger.
Those dull, blank eyes cleared and blinked at me, bright blue and a little watery. The man's half-open mouth, framed by a trimmed brown beard, closed. I saw him swallow. A faintest expression of mingled relief and revulsion crossed his face.
Then a bullet burst through the center of his forehead. Blood and flecks of gore exploded from the exit wound, spattering me, staining my armor and my face with red. The man slumped and fell, his ruined face turned towards me as it lay upon the back of the pew.
I couldn't see his eyes, but I couldn't shake the feeling that their gaze was on me, hurt and accusing.
I was shaking. I couldn't look away. On a nervous impulse, I licked my lips, and tasted the coppery tang of blood that wasn't mine.
Distantly, I knew what had happened. Valefor ordered them to kill each other if I freed them. He knows I don't work instantly.
But how had he known? Or had he simply left the compulsion as a gamble, on the off-chance that it might work? And what was the point? These people were innocent—what purpose did killing them serve? It didn't help him beat me, it didn't help him fight the Protectorate. If anything, it made him only more likely to be taken seriously—which increased the chances that someone truly scary, like Legend or Alexandria, might be sent to Brockton Bay to stop him. Why escalate like this?
Why kill this man?
And, more pressingly, there was a traitorous little part of my brain that didn't agree that Valefor had killed this man at all.
Suddenly, there was an arm around me, and a voice screaming in my ear. "Annatar! Taylor!"
I blinked, and the world came back into focus. "Don't say my name, Shadow Stalker," I said evenly, turning away from the dead man to the girl crouching in cover beside me.
"You weren't—" she stopped herself, and then started again. "Dragon's going to foam the building, we need to fall back!"
I nodded. "Okay. Go, I'll be right behind you."
She turned into a wisp of shadow and sped away, out towards the doorway, and I followed, keeping low as the bullets pinged off of my armor.
Soon I was outside, and there was Dragon, right in front of me, a large cannon protruding from one shoulder. "Out of the way, please," she said, perfectly calm.
I stepped aside into the cover of the wall, and the moment I was clear, the cannon fired. Containment foam blossomed forth in a veritable river, bursting into the building and expanding to fill the hall.
Dragon kept spraying until the blob of hardening foam stretched from the doorway to the pulpit, covering up every one of Valefor's armed thralls. When the cannon retracted, she turned to me. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.
"Fine," I said, raising a red-stained hand to uselessly wipe away at the blood on my face. "It's not mine."
"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. We should have led with containment foam."
"Why didn't we?" Sophia asked, and her voice was harsh. "If we had—"
"It was entirely possible that Valefor would be absent," Armsmaster interrupted. "As he was. We needed to know that immediately. In addition, had Annatar managed to free a civilian, we might have been able to ask them where he went, or about his other operations. It made sense to try a more measured approach first."
"But it didn't work out this time," said Dragon, still looking at me. "Annatar, I'm sorry. Are you certain you're all right?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "I just—I want to hunt down Valefor and be done with this."
"Agreed," Armsmaster said grimly. "But we don't have a lot of options. The church was our best lead, and he seems to have slipped away."
"We'll find him," Dragon reassured him. "But we need to get back to the PRT perimeter."
-x-x-x-
PRT vans had blocked off the street and the troopers were setting up a wooden barrier. As we passed it, Dragon turned aside, glowing blue eyes looking back over the road behind us, and the church still visible only a couple blocks away. "I'm sorry about the bad intel," she told Armsmaster. "He definitely was there."
"I believe you," he said firmly. "It's not your fault. He's slippery. Can you and Annatar locate him again?"
"I think so," she said. "Especially since we won't be working alone."
Armsmaster frowned. "Did the PRT call in another thinker?"
"You could say that," came a voice from beside one of the vans.
There stood a girl with long blond hair, her teeth bared in a sly smile which reminded me uncomfortably of Valefor's. She was leaning against the PRT vehicle, wearing a blank white costume, and her familiar green eyes were roving over us. She wasn't hard to place. "Tattletale," I growled.
"What," said Amy, in a voice as hard and cold as a glacier, "is she doing here?"
"We need all the help we can get." Dragon turned to us, her mask arranging into a sheepish expression. "Now isn't the time for grudges."
"Besides, Tattletale isn't here," said Tattletale easily. "The PRT paid Faultline extra just to make sure Tattletale was absolutely not here. No sir. Definitely doing something completely unrelated right now. Hey, Panacea, been a while. How's your family?"
"Tattletale, please," said Dragon, her gritted teeth audible even through her helmet speakers.
"No, go right ahead, Tattletale," I said, giving the blonde a smile that was all teeth. "Keep baiting Panacea. I want to see what happens."
Tattletale blinked at me. "Hey, Annatar," she said. "How's Grue—oh, sorry, Fume?"
"He's well," I said. "I like to think we're a better team for him."
To her credit, Tattletale's composure didn't even waver as she chuckled. "I suppose it's sensible to make sure his cage is gilded," she acknowledged. "Didn't expect you to be giving up one of your main modules this early, though. How's Panacea enjoying it?"
"Stop." Armsmaster's voice was clipped and burned with barely-contained anger and contempt captured everyone's attention. "Tattletale, you're rapidly becoming a liability. I wasn't involved in hiring you—"
"Hired, me?" Tattletale put a hand on her chest in mock surprise. "I told you, I'm doing something completely—"
"You are five seconds from me foaming you and taking you into custody, supervillain," said Armsmaster evenly. "Shut up. And get to work."
Tattletale narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yep, you're serious. Like to see that, but we've got bigger problems."
"Yes, we do," agreed Dragon. "Tattletale, Annatar, please come with me. We need to talk, and you need to see the footage I've recovered."
"The rest of you, stay here," Armsmaster ordered, looking around at the other Wards. "We'll try to coordinate the other heroes and help maintain containment."
"Panacea," I said quickly, "can you try to find them as well? With Nenya?"
She nodded, still looking after Tattletale with narrowed eyes. Nenya's light was shimmering around her like a faint corona. "Already working on it. Don't have much to go on, though. For all we know, they have a teleporter. But I'm trying."
"Thanks."
As I turned away, Panacea touched my arm. "Tell her," she said lowly, "that if she doesn't get her act together, I'm going to kill her."
I glanced at her. Amy met my eyes. Hers were dark and furious. "I'll tell her," I promised.
Amy nodded sharply and turned away.
I waved goodbye to my team and followed Dragon and Tattletale past the line of PRT troopers and vans to another PRT van, set a little apart from the others. Spilling out of the back of it was an array of screens and computer consoles, with everything from images, to video, to charts on them. The moment they came into view, Tattletale sped up, passing Dragon to reach this array.
"These graphs," she said slowly. "Why—seismic activity?"
"Look at the spike," Dragon said. "Just about half an hour ago."
Tattletale's eyes narrowed as she studied the chart. The graph was mostly just squiggles to me; a low-amplitude line of activity with a small surge recently.
"You think he tunneled under the church?" Tattletale asked.
"I think it's a possibility, but your instincts are better than mine."
"I don't think he has a cape that could do it. Explosives would be more obvious. I think a couple of local capes might have been able to do it, but it might also just be a natural spike. Can I see a longer timescale?"
Dragon nodded. "I'm pulling one up now. Annatar, can you switch modules and—"
"Rings," Tattletale interrupted absently, looking over the new graph. "We're all grown-ups here. No need for euphemisms."
Dragon sighed. "Can you switch Rings and begin trying to isolate Valefor?"
I nodded and pulled out the Jewelry Box.
"No," Tattletale decided as I switched Rings. "No, this spike is totally within usual margins. My power doesn't think it's Valefor."
"Okay," said Dragon, with an elegant nod. "We'll try something else. Can you take a look at my surveillance footage from over the church?"
Tattletale nodded. "Sure. You think they might have hacked your cameras?"
"I think it's a possibility. I've got algorithms scrubbing them, but I can't guarantee they'd work on tinkertech."
"Well, I'll probably be able to tell. Let's take a look." She glanced over at me. "Annatar, you just… do whatever it is you do."
I nodded, my eyes closing as I focused on Vilya. "Already on it."
As always with Vilya, the difficulty was coming up with a question to ask. The more specific the question, the less likely I was to get a coherent answer. Asking Where will Valefor be in ten minutes? gave me nothing beyond Brockton Bay. Asking In which direction will he be? yielded West, which was almost as useless, since I was currently one block from the coast.
"Wait," Tattletale's voice broke into my thoughts. "Annatar, you detected that Valefor would be at the church, right?"
I opened my eyes and nodded. "Yes. And we know he was—"
"You're a precog," she stressed. "And your powers don't do the whole "technically true" thing. No, either he was still in the church when you got there, or there was something important about that church that led you there, instead of any of the other places he got all those thralls from. Dragon, can you get blueprints of the church?"
"I can certainly try."
"Get anything you have on the grounds, too," Tattletale added. "Call it a hunch."
I watched as Dragon's suit looked away for a moment. I imagined she was working busily on a computer from whatever remote location she was really in.
"Got it," she said. "Pulling it up. I think you were on to something."
A blueprint appeared on one of the screens. "Oh," said Tattletale.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The church's basement was modified a few years ago," said Dragon. "It was linked to an Endbringer shelter."
"And that's where Valefor is," said Tattletale. "Or was. Endbringer shelters tend to have multiple entrances, in case one caves in."
"Why wasn't the entrance to an Endbringer shelter marked?" I asked. "Shouldn't there have been signs?"
"There were," Dragon said dryly. "Valefor is a member of the Fallen. I should have noticed the damaged signs on the street earlier. He must have vandalized them—partly in keeping with the theme of the Fallen, and partly to throw us off his trail."
Tattletale rolled her eyes. "If you'd just let me into the containment area—"
"That wasn't going to happen," said Dragon flatly. "You are still a villain, Tattletale. We're not letting you into an active M/S containment zone."
"I can't work if—"
"Can we get the blueprints to the shelter?" I interrupted.
"I'm working on it," Dragon said. "ShelTech has pretty good encryption. Tinkertech."
Tattletale closed her eyes. Something flickered across her face. "Coil owns that company," she said.
Dragon turned to her. "Really?"
Tattletale nodded. "I worked for him—well, the Undersiders did. He was our sponsor." She grimaced. "Our sugar daddy, if you want."
Some part of me—that same part which found itself drawn to stories, to interesting people and their struggles, that part which had listened raptly as Dean explained his history, and which had known instinctively that the way to win Sophia over was to get her to talk—wanted to go deeper into this. There was a story here, and I wanted to know it. But now wasn't the time. "That might be an opportunity," I said instead. "Assuming we have any active surveillance on Coil, could we use that to get into ShelTech?"
"I can hack into ShelTech's databases with some difficulty," Dragon said. "I'll set a worm to find blueprints." She sighed. The sound came out with an off dusting of static through the speakers. "Still, there are more efficient ways to do this. I'm going to search through the map of Brockton bay, and find the public entrances to this shelter. That'll at least get us started."
"And we can set a PRT perimeter around those entrances," said Tattletale. "That's a good start, at least. There may be another way out, though—especially if Coil's involved." She grinned wryly. "He's a snake, after all."
"But it's better than nothing," said Dragon. "I've contacted Armsmaster and Director Piggot. They're coordinating the PRT response now." She glanced at me. "Annatar, unless you think you have anything else to offer, Piggot wants the Wards to fall back as a reserve force now. You'll be called back in if and when it comes to an assault on the shelter, or we find Valefor elsewhere."
I grimaced. "I was hoping to finish this quickly."
"Endbringer shelters are defensible," Tattletale said dryly. "That's kind of what happens when you build a bunker, even if it's intended to defend from giant monsters instead of capes. With any luck, we can get him contained, and that's enough for now."
"I don't like leaving it half-finished," I grumbled.
"You're not," said Dragon firmly. "You're leaving this part of the job to us. We'll call you when you're needed, Annatar."
"All right." I sighed and shrugged. "You're right. Vilya's not going to be any more help on this one. Sorry I couldn't do more."
"It was worth a shot," said Tattletale. "And, hey, you did a lot for me." She winked. "Always nice to get the scoop on a hero's limitations, as an aspiring mercenary."
"That reminds me." I met her eyes. "Panacea said to tell you that if you didn't get your act together, she'd kill you."
Tattletale rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm shaking in my boots. Spare me."
I considered the thinker for a moment. "If you had to fight Panacea, you'd lose. Badly."
"You think so?" Tattletale snorted. "She's hanging by a thread. She feels like she can't rely on anyone—and, given her family, she's not even wrong. And I have stuff on her she doesn't even know about. I'm not scared of Panacea."
"You should be," I said. "If you think you can break her, I promise you—you're wrong."
"I…." Suddenly, Tattletale met my eyes and fell silent, mouth still open. "Your Ring," she murmured. It wasn't a question.
"And even if she didn't get to you," I said quietly, "I would."
"Annatar," Dragon said warningly, but I ignored her.
Tattletale's mouth failed to close for a moment. Then she managed it, her eyes fixed on mine. She licked her lips. "Message received."
I nodded once and turned to Dragon. "Where are the other Wards now?"
"Headed back to PRT headquarters," Dragon said, faint disapproval in her voice. "I can find their exact location if you want, but you can probably just connect with them by radio."
I nodded. "I'll do that. Good luck, Dragon."
"Same to you, Annatar."
-x-x-x-
Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.
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Finagle007
[Verified Great Old One]
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Well it's not as if Shards are equipped to detect the influence of the Discord, now is it?
SaltyWaffles
I am dissapoint, son
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Why is Tattletale being so antagonistic, here? Not only does it not help her cause in the slightest, she came dangerously close to getting arrested anyway just because she kept pissing everyone off rather than doing the thing she came there to do.
And does Tattletale have something against Taylor? I can't imagine why--she's free from Coil's clutches, so even the breakup of her previous team shouldn't really sting.
Anyway, how did the other hostages tell that that one hostage had been freed?
And does Tattletale have something against Taylor? I can't imagine why--she's free from Coil's clutches, so even the breakup of her previous team shouldn't really sting.
Anyway, how did the other hostages tell that that one hostage had been freed?
- Location
- The Middle of the Howling Wilderness
It's a defense mechanism? She's basically constantly surrounded by people who could trivially overpower her, so she antagonizes people a little bit to keep them off-balance. It gives her a little more control over her situation.
On the other hand: talk shit, get hit.
Also, Annatar just successfully threatened a high level Thinker with a healer. This should probably go into the file that Piggot makes two-handed exasperated gestures at whenever the other PRT directors ask her how things are going.
@Lithos Maitreya: So, now that the thralls are all foamed up and can't murder each other, why aren't they having Annatar de-Masterize them for interrogation?
- Location
- not here
And merry christmas!!!
Man, Taylor is totally frying at ends here. First she totally lost focus during active combat situation, and then let herself be drawn into Tat's game. She is also getting restless already. And I think it's going to bite her in the butt, unless other wards will smooth things over.
But the atmosphere within the wards is still tense after Gallant, so that's unlikely to let her relax.
I'm starting to see how it's all gonna descend into chaos. Good job!
I rather think it's more of a vice than a deliberate strategy. I mean she may well justify it as such in her own mind, but to me it's mostly her lashing out a bit. She is surrounded by people who are both capable of taking her down, and hostile towards her. For Tats talking shit is a coping mechanism which enables her to trick herself into thinking she is in control of situation, something which relaxes the stress a bit. At least that's how I'm reading her character.
Man, Taylor is totally frying at ends here. First she totally lost focus during active combat situation, and then let herself be drawn into Tat's game. She is also getting restless already. And I think it's going to bite her in the butt, unless other wards will smooth things over.
But the atmosphere within the wards is still tense after Gallant, so that's unlikely to let her relax.
I'm starting to see how it's all gonna descend into chaos. Good job!
I rather think it's more of a vice than a deliberate strategy. I mean she may well justify it as such in her own mind, but to me it's mostly her lashing out a bit. She is surrounded by people who are both capable of taking her down, and hostile towards her. For Tats talking shit is a coping mechanism which enables her to trick herself into thinking she is in control of situation, something which relaxes the stress a bit. At least that's how I'm reading her character.
Rogue Gemini
Wanderer without a Twin
- Location
- Here
Honestly, I agree with that. I've seen and been in that position where she is, in a sense. I'd desperately try to justify myself for the sake of not being cornered without a way to defend myself. At the very least I'd try not to antagonize anyone, but we all have impulses.
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Its a pretty accurate interpretation from what I remember from canon. And its one of my reasons for thinking that out of all parahumans Thinkers are some of the ones most shafted by their powers mucking with their mentalities.
Assembler
Rocking the life
Well, Thinkers are all people who sustained intense mental trauma and triggered from it, so it makes sense they'd be among the least stable.
pbluekan
Somethin's Fucky ...
- Location
- Trumpistan
So, I've found I truly dislike your Taylor. As a character, if nothing else. The quote above is representative of what makes me dislike her so much, and I think is why I also tend to dislike Taylor as a character in Worm in general.
People don't have monopolies on suffering. Even the capes who trigger. Everyone has these sorts of events happen to them, and you can't apply objective logic to them to say whether one was worse than another. They simply are. Just look at Emma. What happened to her was awful, and objectively just as awful as the locker. Even Piggot had a similarly traumatic experience.
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
I mean, Taylor is objectively wrong in that quote. She's lecturing Piggot on trauma. So... yeah, she's definitely a flawed protagonist, andher particular flaws will bother some more than others. This makes perfect sense to me. I hope you can enjoy the story anyway, but if you can't, I certainly don't blame you.
pbluekan
Somethin's Fucky ...
- Location
- Trumpistan
Like I said, it's a common trait for Taylor in a lot of fanfiction and even Worm itself to a degree.
Hating a character is fine, so long as the character is hated for who they are, rather than a flaw in the writing, if you catch my drift. It's just another part of the story then. So me disliking Taylor takes nothing away from my enjoyment of the piece.
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pbluekan
Somethin's Fucky ...
- Location
- Trumpistan
Actually, @Lithos Maitreya why did you pick a Hammer and Anvil? I would have expected Taylor to sing things into existence. Supposedly that is what really happened when Sauron forged the One. He sang it into existence.
IIRC, the rings of Power were all forged by Celebrimbor (I think he actually used a forge, because he's not Maiar. But...
IIRC, the rings of Power were all forged by Celebrimbor (I think he actually used a forge, because he's not Maiar. But...
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Mostly because Glimmer was written entirely on instinct. I didn't even know for ccertain what Taylor was until about the time I wrote Glimmer 1.6. That being said, I recommend you keep this question in mind around the end of this arc and during the next one. It may not be answered, but it'll make more sense, I expect.
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
A merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Interlude 8a: Francis has been edited to my satisfaction--and, more importantly, to my betas'. It will arrive on Christmas morning--which is to say, this morning, by my timezone. Expect it in about eight or nine hours.
Interlude 8a: Francis has been edited to my satisfaction--and, more importantly, to my betas'. It will arrive on Christmas morning--which is to say, this morning, by my timezone. Expect it in about eight or nine hours.
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
*wiggles in glee!*
More hurray!
Interlude 8a: Francis
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Many thanks to @Assembler, @themanwhowas, @fabledFreeboota, @Skyrunner, and @BeaconHill for betareading.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
"Fuck," Krouse swore, pushing his chair back, staring at the computer screen.
DEFEAT. The word stared back at him, red and insulting.
"Hey, it's not like you have time to practice," said Luke dryly from across the room.
"Still," growled Krouse. "I used to be good at this shit." He gave his teammate a baleful glare. Luke wasn't even looking at him; his nose was in a book. "Since when do you read in your spare time, anyway? You were on the team too."
Luke cracked a grin. "Since I found out that no practice makes for terrible play. Sucking isn't fun."
"Fuck," Krouse said again, looking back at the screen. He slammed his hand down on the mouse and tapped the button to close the window with perhaps a little more force than necessary.
"Frustrated?" Luke asked, still without looking up from his book.
"No shit," said Krouse, running a hand through his hair. That hand then came down to his face and rubbed at his chin. I need to shave, he thought, feeling the stubble.
He wouldn't, though. Not for at least a couple of days more. There never seemed to be a point to grooming regularly anymore.
"Hey, relax," Luke advised. "What's to worry about? It's nice to have a day off."
"I'd rather be doing something," Krouse replied. "You know, trying to be useful? I realize this is foreign to you."
Luke snorted. "Nice. Real mature."
Krouse rolled his eyes and didn't reply. For a moment he just drummed his fingers rapidly on his thigh.
What were the combos, again? Q-Q-W, Q-W-E, Q-E-W…
Fuck. Earth Bet didn't even have all the same games, and those it did have he couldn't play anymore.
"I feel like a fucking cripple," he exploded suddenly. "It's like I can't use my fingers anymore. They just don't fucking work."
"Try your legs," came Jess' voice from the next room over. "Then we'll talk."
Luke chuckled. "She's got you there, dude."
Krouse bared his teeth for a moment before looking down at his hands. He flexed his fingers, stretching out his palms, before curling them again, relaxing. This pulsing motion he repeated a few times. It was a stretch he'd learned from a piano teacher as a kid, and one that had served him well in the past.
The good old days. Fucking hell.
"Hey, Krouse!" Jess' voice came again.
"I'm ignoring you!" Krouse called back.
"Either get over here or turn on the news over there, then!"
Krouse sighed and stood up. "I swear, Jess, if this is about that case 53 in Boston again—"
"Oh, fuck you, and no, this is important. Come, now!"
Oh. Shit. Krouse jogged over into the next room. Jess was in her wheelchair, watching the television. Krouse followed her gaze.
"Is that a hole in that building?" he asked.
She looked over at him and it struck him just how good she was at that what are you, a moron? expression. She didn't say a word, just looked back at the TV.
"The Fallen, a villain group which worships the Endbringers, are reported to have attacked the PRT press conference being held at the Stansfield Pavilion," the anchor was saying. "Witnesses report a man in a costume resembling the Simurgh. Beyond that, we know little at this time. The PRT has yet to release a statement. More details will—"
Krouse's phone rang. He reached into his pocket to pull it out and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him. "Trickster here."
"Trickster. I have a job I need you to do."
Krouse raised an eyebrow at Coil's phrasing. "Me? Not the Travelers, then."
"No. You, specifically."
Krouse smirked. "All right. Lay it on me, boss; what do you need?"
Krouse took a deep pull of his cigarette, enjoying the warmth of the smoke in his lungs as he gazed up at the evening sky. The sun was sinking low on the horizon, dipping so that the tips of the mountains were just starting to cover it, and the long rays of light were painting the clouds in rich oranges and pinks. His long shadow stretched along the roof beside him, the top hat making for quite the imposing silhouette.
He shifted the little cancer stick to one side of his mouth and then exhaled through the other. The smoke poured out, surrounding his head for a moment in a foggy halo.
His radio spoke up. "Trickster, are you in position?" Coil's voice was tense, even through the faint static.
"Yeah," he replied, tapping his earpiece. "She's due by any minute now." He glanced down at the nearly-empty street below. "No sign of her yet."
"You're watching?"
"Of course I'm watching. It's the job, isn't it?"
"Good," said Coil. "Carry on, and be careful. Annatar is dangerous."
Krouse snorted. "She's a kid."
"A kid with an extremely dangerous power. You, of all people, should know about that."
Krouse grimaced. Message received, time to stop prodding the villain with the best chance at helping Noelle. "Yeah, I know. I'll be careful."
"Good. Let me know when the operation is complete."
Krouse didn't bother to reply, just sat down cross-legged on the edge of the roof, looking down at the street. He took another pull of his cigarette.
I've been up here for almost an hour, he thought. Can the bitch just show up already?
There had been a firefight a few blocks away. He'd called it in, but Coil had told him not to worry about it. He wasn't paid to worry, so fair enough. But it had set him a bit on edge, and the long wait hadn't helped any.
But it was finally paying off. There she was, rounding a corner. Annatar's silver armor caught the light of the afternoon sun in dazzling ways, setting beams of light reflecting in all directions.
"Target in sight," he murmured into his radio.
"Good. You know what to do."
Krouse followed her. He kept to the rooftops, when possible, taking his time and swapping himself with whatever was available, using air to make up the difference if necessary. There was no rush.
He followed Annatar down a few blocks, and then at last things got interesting. The PRT was there in force, carefully dissolving containment foam from one civilian after another and clapping them into handcuffs. The cacophony of officers Mirandizing and explaining the situation to the civilians made it hard to hear his target, but he still caught when her name was spoken.
"Annatar!" It was Clockblocker, another of the Wards. He jogged over to her, from where he'd been overseeing the restraining of the civilians. Krouse shrank into the roof, carefully maintaining as much cover as he could. "Dragon… any progress?"
Annatar nodded, and Krouse had to strain to catch her words. "…Valefor's… Endbringer…. blueprints now. …Need my… here?"
"Yes." That was Armsmaster, walking over to the two Wards. His loud voice was clear and audible. "The faster we can clear these civilians of master effects, the better. How quickly do you think you can process them?"
"Shouldn't… long," Annatar said. "Let's… work." And, at long last, she reached behind her and pulled out that rectangular box which was hooked at the small of her back.
Krouse pulled out the small, heavy stone he'd been carrying in his pocket. He took a moment to glance around the street. A few more heroes were down there, but—as Coil had promised—none of them could fly.
Annatar leaned down and whispered something into the box's latch. It swung wide, and inside, a small star of red and gold glimmered.
Krouse didn't hesitate. A flex of his power, and the stone and that shining thing in the box had been linked. In a moment, the Ring was in his hand, and the stone was in Annatar's.
For a moment he stared down at the golden band in his palm. The Ring was bright and fiery, and slightly warm to the touch, even through his gloves.
Krouse had bought jewelry before, for Noelle, but it wasn't something he did often. He couldn't really afford to spend that much, even on Noelle. But it had happened, and when it had, he'd shopped around to find the best pieces he could afford.
The Ring of Fire trumped them all. It was exquisite.
Then Annatar was shouting in wordless horror and rage, and the moment was broken. Now to escape. Good thing they don't have any fliers.
He turned and ran along the building as fast as he dared, looking over at that rooftop where he'd first been stationed, and at the heavy knapsack he'd left there. A moment later, and he was several blocks away, and the knapsack was in his place. Another run across that roof was followed by another swap into an empty closet in an office building with one small window. Then down to the last knapsack, barely visible from this angle, inside the third-floor window of an abandoned apartment.
The room was bare of decoration or furniture, save for the duffel bag he'd placed there a little more than an hour ago. He pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of the bag and changed quickly, carefully moving the Ring from the pocket of his costume into his jeans. He glanced periodically out the window to check for pursuers, but no one seemed to have found him.
Once his costume was safely stowed, he slung the duffel over his shoulder and looked down into the street below. There was a car parked on the side of the road, just across the street from his window--red, sleek, and sporty. He could just see into the driver's side window, where a man in an outfit almost exactly like the one he was wearing now was idly drumming on the steering wheel, waiting. Other than that one vehicle, the road was completely empty.
Coil, you magnificent son of a bitch.
Krouse swapped with the man, and was suddenly behind the wheel of the getaway car. He allowed himself a sigh of relief as he patted his pants pocket. The Ring of Fire was still there.
He tapped his earpiece again. "Job's done. Making my getaway now."
"Well done." Coil sounded audibly relieved. "Make for the rendezvous."
Krouse did so. He was well and truly entrenched among other cars by the time he started seeing police or PRT vehicles on the road with him. When they didn't flag him down, he knew he had escaped.
On his way to the rendezvous, he found himself pulling the Ring out of his pocket and running it through the fingers of one hand while the other worked the wheel. Coil had been clear: do not put the Ring on. But Krouse couldn't deny he was tempted.
Don't be an idiot, he told himself fiercely. This shit's tinkertech! You don't know what it could do.
But the Ring was bright and warm, and the temptation lingered in his brain like an errant gnat.
Coil was waiting at his desk when Krouse walked into the office. "Welcome back," he said, his voice perfectly clear despite the fabric of his costume covering his face. "You have it."
Krouse nodded, his mask once more secure over his face. "Yeah."
There was a pause.
"Well?" Coil asked impatiently. "Where is it?"
"Oh, right."
Slowly, reluctantly, Krouse pulled his hand out of his pocket. The Red Ring glittered in his palm like the embers of a dying fire. Its crimson light brought forth images of the setting sun, shining through a thin layer of clouds, diminished at the close of the day, but undimmed.
Krouse had to struggle to force himself to take those last two steps to Coil's desk. Actually reaching down and placing the Ring upon the desk was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. The Ring was heavy in his hand--heavier than gold, more like lead. He was Atlas, carrying the weight of the world in his hand. It felt wrong to put it down. It was like letting Noelle down, or like giving up on the dream of going home. In the end, actually taking that final step, and pulling his fingers away from it, was almost a spasm, almost involuntary, as though he was pulling his hand away from an open flame. As he stepped away again, he found that he was shivering.
Coil reached out and plucked the Ring from the desk. He held it up for examination. Krouse hugged himself, rubbing his forearms through the cloth of his costume for warmth. "Bit chilly down here," Krouse said.
"Is it?" Coil asked absently, and Krouse knew his eyes were fixed on the Ring. "I think it's rather warm, actually."
As he turned the Ring around and around in his fingers, Krouse stopped rubbing his arms and had to grip tightly, his hands clawing into his arms like talons, to keep himself from lunging for the beautiful thing. "You, uh," he cleared his throat. "You going to put that on?"
"Yes, of course," Coil said slowly. "Just… admiring it. It really is a marvelous piece of craftsmanship, isn't it?"
Krouse swallowed and licked his dry lips. "Yeah."
Slowly, Coil brought his hands together, and his right gingerly slipped the Ring onto his left. A warm breeze suddenly seemed to pulse through the room, blowing Krouse's exposed hair back where it wasn't pinned under his hat. Once it passed, he was shivering even more in the sudden frigidity it had left behind.
Coil stared down at the Ring upon his finger. "Well," he said, and there was an odd note to his voice. Krouse felt he recognized it. Had he heard a similar tone somewhere before? "So that's what it feels like."
"Yeah, uh," Krouse swallowed. "I uh, wondered. You think I could—"
"You could what?" Coil barked, suddenly furious, his head snapping up, his hidden eyes staring straight into Krouse's. His shadow seemed to fill the room like a specter, and the man himself seemed to grow in stature until Krouse was little more than a mouse before a giant. "You could try it on? You want to take it now, is that it? You think that because you were the one who took it—under my orders, and with help only I could give—that you deserve it now, is that it?"
Krouse found that he was backing away. "No, no, sorry. It was—sorry. Just a thought. Never mind. It's yours, boss."
"Yes." And suddenly, the moment was gone, as though it had never been, and Krouse was just Krouse, and Coil was just Coil, looking down at the Ring on his finger. Gently, his right index finger began to run along it as it sat upon his left, as one might stroke a beloved pet. "Yes, it's mine. My protector, my shield. Mine." He glanced up again. "Thank you for your service, Trickster. I'll let you know when I need you again."
"Right." Krouse turned to leave. Then he hesitated. Wasn't there something else?
He glanced back. "What about Noelle?"
"Hm?" Coil wasn't looking at him. He was staring down at the Ring on his finger again.
"Any progress on her?"
"Oh. Yes. I have a couple of leads I'm currently following up on. I'll let you know as soon as any of my agents make progress."
Krouse nodded. "Panacea's with the Wards now, right? Do you think we could—"
Coil looked up, and his shadow seemed to flicker, as if it wanted to grow again, and was only just holding itself in check. "I will tell you," he said, slowly and clearly, "as soon as any of my agents make progress."
"Right." Krouse licked his lips.
"You may go. Thank you."
"Right. Sorry." He left without another word, but the cold didn't abate.
Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
-x-x-x-
"Fuck," Krouse swore, pushing his chair back, staring at the computer screen.
DEFEAT. The word stared back at him, red and insulting.
"Hey, it's not like you have time to practice," said Luke dryly from across the room.
"Still," growled Krouse. "I used to be good at this shit." He gave his teammate a baleful glare. Luke wasn't even looking at him; his nose was in a book. "Since when do you read in your spare time, anyway? You were on the team too."
Luke cracked a grin. "Since I found out that no practice makes for terrible play. Sucking isn't fun."
"Fuck," Krouse said again, looking back at the screen. He slammed his hand down on the mouse and tapped the button to close the window with perhaps a little more force than necessary.
"Frustrated?" Luke asked, still without looking up from his book.
"No shit," said Krouse, running a hand through his hair. That hand then came down to his face and rubbed at his chin. I need to shave, he thought, feeling the stubble.
He wouldn't, though. Not for at least a couple of days more. There never seemed to be a point to grooming regularly anymore.
"Hey, relax," Luke advised. "What's to worry about? It's nice to have a day off."
"I'd rather be doing something," Krouse replied. "You know, trying to be useful? I realize this is foreign to you."
Luke snorted. "Nice. Real mature."
Krouse rolled his eyes and didn't reply. For a moment he just drummed his fingers rapidly on his thigh.
What were the combos, again? Q-Q-W, Q-W-E, Q-E-W…
Fuck. Earth Bet didn't even have all the same games, and those it did have he couldn't play anymore.
"I feel like a fucking cripple," he exploded suddenly. "It's like I can't use my fingers anymore. They just don't fucking work."
"Try your legs," came Jess' voice from the next room over. "Then we'll talk."
Luke chuckled. "She's got you there, dude."
Krouse bared his teeth for a moment before looking down at his hands. He flexed his fingers, stretching out his palms, before curling them again, relaxing. This pulsing motion he repeated a few times. It was a stretch he'd learned from a piano teacher as a kid, and one that had served him well in the past.
The good old days. Fucking hell.
"Hey, Krouse!" Jess' voice came again.
"I'm ignoring you!" Krouse called back.
"Either get over here or turn on the news over there, then!"
Krouse sighed and stood up. "I swear, Jess, if this is about that case 53 in Boston again—"
"Oh, fuck you, and no, this is important. Come, now!"
Oh. Shit. Krouse jogged over into the next room. Jess was in her wheelchair, watching the television. Krouse followed her gaze.
"Is that a hole in that building?" he asked.
She looked over at him and it struck him just how good she was at that what are you, a moron? expression. She didn't say a word, just looked back at the TV.
"The Fallen, a villain group which worships the Endbringers, are reported to have attacked the PRT press conference being held at the Stansfield Pavilion," the anchor was saying. "Witnesses report a man in a costume resembling the Simurgh. Beyond that, we know little at this time. The PRT has yet to release a statement. More details will—"
Krouse's phone rang. He reached into his pocket to pull it out and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him. "Trickster here."
"Trickster. I have a job I need you to do."
Krouse raised an eyebrow at Coil's phrasing. "Me? Not the Travelers, then."
"No. You, specifically."
Krouse smirked. "All right. Lay it on me, boss; what do you need?"
-x-x-x-
Krouse took a deep pull of his cigarette, enjoying the warmth of the smoke in his lungs as he gazed up at the evening sky. The sun was sinking low on the horizon, dipping so that the tips of the mountains were just starting to cover it, and the long rays of light were painting the clouds in rich oranges and pinks. His long shadow stretched along the roof beside him, the top hat making for quite the imposing silhouette.
He shifted the little cancer stick to one side of his mouth and then exhaled through the other. The smoke poured out, surrounding his head for a moment in a foggy halo.
His radio spoke up. "Trickster, are you in position?" Coil's voice was tense, even through the faint static.
"Yeah," he replied, tapping his earpiece. "She's due by any minute now." He glanced down at the nearly-empty street below. "No sign of her yet."
"You're watching?"
"Of course I'm watching. It's the job, isn't it?"
"Good," said Coil. "Carry on, and be careful. Annatar is dangerous."
Krouse snorted. "She's a kid."
"A kid with an extremely dangerous power. You, of all people, should know about that."
Krouse grimaced. Message received, time to stop prodding the villain with the best chance at helping Noelle. "Yeah, I know. I'll be careful."
"Good. Let me know when the operation is complete."
Krouse didn't bother to reply, just sat down cross-legged on the edge of the roof, looking down at the street. He took another pull of his cigarette.
I've been up here for almost an hour, he thought. Can the bitch just show up already?
There had been a firefight a few blocks away. He'd called it in, but Coil had told him not to worry about it. He wasn't paid to worry, so fair enough. But it had set him a bit on edge, and the long wait hadn't helped any.
But it was finally paying off. There she was, rounding a corner. Annatar's silver armor caught the light of the afternoon sun in dazzling ways, setting beams of light reflecting in all directions.
"Target in sight," he murmured into his radio.
"Good. You know what to do."
Krouse followed her. He kept to the rooftops, when possible, taking his time and swapping himself with whatever was available, using air to make up the difference if necessary. There was no rush.
He followed Annatar down a few blocks, and then at last things got interesting. The PRT was there in force, carefully dissolving containment foam from one civilian after another and clapping them into handcuffs. The cacophony of officers Mirandizing and explaining the situation to the civilians made it hard to hear his target, but he still caught when her name was spoken.
"Annatar!" It was Clockblocker, another of the Wards. He jogged over to her, from where he'd been overseeing the restraining of the civilians. Krouse shrank into the roof, carefully maintaining as much cover as he could. "Dragon… any progress?"
Annatar nodded, and Krouse had to strain to catch her words. "…Valefor's… Endbringer…. blueprints now. …Need my… here?"
"Yes." That was Armsmaster, walking over to the two Wards. His loud voice was clear and audible. "The faster we can clear these civilians of master effects, the better. How quickly do you think you can process them?"
"Shouldn't… long," Annatar said. "Let's… work." And, at long last, she reached behind her and pulled out that rectangular box which was hooked at the small of her back.
Krouse pulled out the small, heavy stone he'd been carrying in his pocket. He took a moment to glance around the street. A few more heroes were down there, but—as Coil had promised—none of them could fly.
Annatar leaned down and whispered something into the box's latch. It swung wide, and inside, a small star of red and gold glimmered.
Krouse didn't hesitate. A flex of his power, and the stone and that shining thing in the box had been linked. In a moment, the Ring was in his hand, and the stone was in Annatar's.
For a moment he stared down at the golden band in his palm. The Ring was bright and fiery, and slightly warm to the touch, even through his gloves.
Krouse had bought jewelry before, for Noelle, but it wasn't something he did often. He couldn't really afford to spend that much, even on Noelle. But it had happened, and when it had, he'd shopped around to find the best pieces he could afford.
The Ring of Fire trumped them all. It was exquisite.
Then Annatar was shouting in wordless horror and rage, and the moment was broken. Now to escape. Good thing they don't have any fliers.
He turned and ran along the building as fast as he dared, looking over at that rooftop where he'd first been stationed, and at the heavy knapsack he'd left there. A moment later, and he was several blocks away, and the knapsack was in his place. Another run across that roof was followed by another swap into an empty closet in an office building with one small window. Then down to the last knapsack, barely visible from this angle, inside the third-floor window of an abandoned apartment.
The room was bare of decoration or furniture, save for the duffel bag he'd placed there a little more than an hour ago. He pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of the bag and changed quickly, carefully moving the Ring from the pocket of his costume into his jeans. He glanced periodically out the window to check for pursuers, but no one seemed to have found him.
Once his costume was safely stowed, he slung the duffel over his shoulder and looked down into the street below. There was a car parked on the side of the road, just across the street from his window--red, sleek, and sporty. He could just see into the driver's side window, where a man in an outfit almost exactly like the one he was wearing now was idly drumming on the steering wheel, waiting. Other than that one vehicle, the road was completely empty.
Coil, you magnificent son of a bitch.
Krouse swapped with the man, and was suddenly behind the wheel of the getaway car. He allowed himself a sigh of relief as he patted his pants pocket. The Ring of Fire was still there.
He tapped his earpiece again. "Job's done. Making my getaway now."
"Well done." Coil sounded audibly relieved. "Make for the rendezvous."
Krouse did so. He was well and truly entrenched among other cars by the time he started seeing police or PRT vehicles on the road with him. When they didn't flag him down, he knew he had escaped.
On his way to the rendezvous, he found himself pulling the Ring out of his pocket and running it through the fingers of one hand while the other worked the wheel. Coil had been clear: do not put the Ring on. But Krouse couldn't deny he was tempted.
Don't be an idiot, he told himself fiercely. This shit's tinkertech! You don't know what it could do.
But the Ring was bright and warm, and the temptation lingered in his brain like an errant gnat.
-x-x-x-
Coil was waiting at his desk when Krouse walked into the office. "Welcome back," he said, his voice perfectly clear despite the fabric of his costume covering his face. "You have it."
Krouse nodded, his mask once more secure over his face. "Yeah."
There was a pause.
"Well?" Coil asked impatiently. "Where is it?"
"Oh, right."
Slowly, reluctantly, Krouse pulled his hand out of his pocket. The Red Ring glittered in his palm like the embers of a dying fire. Its crimson light brought forth images of the setting sun, shining through a thin layer of clouds, diminished at the close of the day, but undimmed.
Krouse had to struggle to force himself to take those last two steps to Coil's desk. Actually reaching down and placing the Ring upon the desk was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. The Ring was heavy in his hand--heavier than gold, more like lead. He was Atlas, carrying the weight of the world in his hand. It felt wrong to put it down. It was like letting Noelle down, or like giving up on the dream of going home. In the end, actually taking that final step, and pulling his fingers away from it, was almost a spasm, almost involuntary, as though he was pulling his hand away from an open flame. As he stepped away again, he found that he was shivering.
Coil reached out and plucked the Ring from the desk. He held it up for examination. Krouse hugged himself, rubbing his forearms through the cloth of his costume for warmth. "Bit chilly down here," Krouse said.
"Is it?" Coil asked absently, and Krouse knew his eyes were fixed on the Ring. "I think it's rather warm, actually."
As he turned the Ring around and around in his fingers, Krouse stopped rubbing his arms and had to grip tightly, his hands clawing into his arms like talons, to keep himself from lunging for the beautiful thing. "You, uh," he cleared his throat. "You going to put that on?"
"Yes, of course," Coil said slowly. "Just… admiring it. It really is a marvelous piece of craftsmanship, isn't it?"
Krouse swallowed and licked his dry lips. "Yeah."
Slowly, Coil brought his hands together, and his right gingerly slipped the Ring onto his left. A warm breeze suddenly seemed to pulse through the room, blowing Krouse's exposed hair back where it wasn't pinned under his hat. Once it passed, he was shivering even more in the sudden frigidity it had left behind.
Coil stared down at the Ring upon his finger. "Well," he said, and there was an odd note to his voice. Krouse felt he recognized it. Had he heard a similar tone somewhere before? "So that's what it feels like."
"Yeah, uh," Krouse swallowed. "I uh, wondered. You think I could—"
"You could what?" Coil barked, suddenly furious, his head snapping up, his hidden eyes staring straight into Krouse's. His shadow seemed to fill the room like a specter, and the man himself seemed to grow in stature until Krouse was little more than a mouse before a giant. "You could try it on? You want to take it now, is that it? You think that because you were the one who took it—under my orders, and with help only I could give—that you deserve it now, is that it?"
Krouse found that he was backing away. "No, no, sorry. It was—sorry. Just a thought. Never mind. It's yours, boss."
"Yes." And suddenly, the moment was gone, as though it had never been, and Krouse was just Krouse, and Coil was just Coil, looking down at the Ring on his finger. Gently, his right index finger began to run along it as it sat upon his left, as one might stroke a beloved pet. "Yes, it's mine. My protector, my shield. Mine." He glanced up again. "Thank you for your service, Trickster. I'll let you know when I need you again."
"Right." Krouse turned to leave. Then he hesitated. Wasn't there something else?
He glanced back. "What about Noelle?"
"Hm?" Coil wasn't looking at him. He was staring down at the Ring on his finger again.
"Any progress on her?"
"Oh. Yes. I have a couple of leads I'm currently following up on. I'll let you know as soon as any of my agents make progress."
Krouse nodded. "Panacea's with the Wards now, right? Do you think we could—"
Coil looked up, and his shadow seemed to flicker, as if it wanted to grow again, and was only just holding itself in check. "I will tell you," he said, slowly and clearly, "as soon as any of my agents make progress."
"Right." Krouse licked his lips.
"You may go. Thank you."
"Right. Sorry." He left without another word, but the cold didn't abate.
-x-x-x-
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Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this is only a one-update weeks. I've been drawing from my backlog for a while, and it needs a bit to recover.