Ring-Maker [Worm/Lord of the Rings Alt-Power] [Complete]

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Yeeesss! I wants it!

I find myself wondering how this second trigger will alter her and her power. Will she gain Sauron's sorceries? I recall him having some skill in necromancy at least, though I don't know if that required the One or not.
 
Yeeesss! I wants it!

I find myself wondering how this second trigger will alter her and her power. Will she gain Sauron's sorceries? I recall him having some skill in necromancy at least, though I don't know if that required the One or not.
They called him the Necromancer when he was holed up on Dol Guldur in the Third Age, so it definitely didn't require the Ring.
 
It might help to know that we're not done with this scene. More is coming before we skip away.

I await your comments.
Right, with more time let me get into my thinking. First, my feelings started out as "unsatisfied". The second trigger felt out of left field and unexpected entirely. I was not sure if this was the good kind of unsatisfied where something pulls the reader in or the bad kind of narratively unsatisfying. After some thought about it I decided that I actually did like it, because its a sort of thing which hit me with Fridge Feels/Horror/Logic. I hadn't processed the sheer shitstorm going down until I sat and thought about it.

All that said as context I'll now give some commentary on the scene itself.

"Think anyone saw us?" Sophia asked.

We were on the rooftop of one of the houses next to mine, leaving over it and looking over at my house next door. There was a PRT van parked outside, and the lights were on inside.

"No," I said quietly. "But I can't be sure."

"Look at it this way," said Vista. "Even if it is a trap, it's not a trap for us. Protocol would be to send a PRT squad in. They won't be expecting three Ring-Bearers."

"If it's a trap, my father's the bait," I answered. "Even if they lose, we still don't win."

Sophia nudged me. "It might be fine. We won't know until we go in."

I nodded. "You're right. Let's go."

I dropped off of the roof. The wind whistled past me for an instant as I fell, before I hit the ground with only the faintest clack of metal on concrete. Sophia and Vista joined me a moment later. Together we crept down the sidewalk, watching the PRT van and the surrounding buildings for any sign of movement. Nothing disturbed the night.

As we walked up to the front door, I couldn't help a faint feeling that I was leading my teammates to the gallows. The path came to an end all too soon, and we were on the threshold. I had to force myself to raise my fist and knock.

Dad answered the door, and as soon as I saw his face light up in affection, I relaxed. "T—" he started, then stopped. "Annatar," he said. "To what—"

"There's no time," I said. "You're in danger. I need you to come with me. We're extracting you and the PRT operatives assigned to protect you."

Dad frowned. "What's happened?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

I bit my lip. "It's… it's a long story," I said. "Your PRT detail sent out a distress call an hour or so ago."

"Oh," he said, realization crossing his features. "There was a fight a couple streets down. ABB. Lung got involved. It died down earlier."
This was about when I realized stuff was heading straight for the pan. In particular the three things which hit me were the Lung mention, the gallows, and more subtly the "To what" which I don't think Danny could do, I have this expectation it'd be something other than "To what do I owe the pleasure" especially when coupled with the fact that Lung supposedly fought a few streets down. More fear or something, though I didn't grok this more subtle To what piece until I've sat down and thought about it.

"There's still a lot going on," I said. "Come on, we need to move."

"Right," he agreed, and turned around. "All right, Captain, your men can come out. They're friends."

There was shuffling behind him—movement from inside the house. He stepped outside, and I let him pass. There were four PRT troops coming down the hall towards us, weapons down, but in their hands.

I could feel Vista tensing beside me. I glanced down at her. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes were darting hither and thither as though seeking something.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, keeping my voice at a low murmur.

Her head gave a minute tilt from side to side. "Maybe," she said, just as quietly. "They usually wouldn't be inside."

"Maybe they came in because of the fight?"

Before she could answer, the PRT troopers were outside with us. "Annatar," said their leader with a nod. "Good to see the Director got our distress call. Did they send a squad with you, or is it just you three?"

"Just us," I said. "We should be plenty."

He nodded. His face was fully covered by the visor of his riot helmet, so I couldn't see his expression. "I'm not going to disagree with that," he said. "Are we falling back to headquarters, then?"

"That's the plan," I confirmed.

"Then should we take the van?"

"No," said Vista shortly, before I could respond. "Or, well, we won't. We'll head out with the VIP while your squad takes the car back."

He glanced at her. "Why split up?" he asked. "You can take the van with you when you use your power, can't you, Vista?"

She glanced up at me, as if asking for help. I obliged. "If we split up, it gives the enemy more targets," I said. "We weren't discovered on our approach, as far as we know, so any enemies will probably follow the van. It makes sense to take the VIP by the most secure route possible, right?"

The man considered that. "Suppose that makes sense," he agreed. "All right, people, let's go."

They began to walk through our little group, passing between us on their way to the van. Vista and I shuffled out of the way, but they had to go around Sophia. I glanced at her. Her eyes were cast upward, towards my bedroom window, which faced the street. I followed her gaze. The curtains were drawn.

"Something wrong, Shadow Stalker?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," she muttered. She squinted, staring into the window. "Is that…"

"My room," I murmured, quietly enough so that the PRT troops, a few feet back from us, wouldn't hear.

Sophia nodded, but didn't reply. Her eyes widened, and I felt her tense suddenly like an animal caught in headlights.

"Vista," she said, in a low hiss, "get us out of here."

Vista's eyes flashed. "On it." Her hands rose, but at that moment, the curtains over my bedroom window were thrown aside.

There was a child there—a boy, maybe thirteen years old. His shoulder-length black hair was done up in a ponytail, and his eyes flashed in the dark.
This is good. You can tell things are going into the pooper, and the heroes here can as well but a little too slow and too late.

I felt my arms and legs seize up, locking into place as though electrocuted. Vista and Sophia both stiffened beside me.

The boy stared down at us. In the moonlight, now that the curtains had been drawn back, I could see the sweat beading on his brow, twinkling in the reflected dusk.
*Cackle* so he's a bargain bin version of Regent. So something he says in a bit struck me as rather odd. I'll get to that when it shows up.

"Foam 'em," ordered the captain behind me. He was close--too close. My eyes, darting around, could see the troopers clustered close around us. Vista wouldn't be able to warp space with this little room between living people.

It wasn't my first time being subjected to containment foam. It was a mandatory part of training. That'd didn't mean I was ready for it when the foam began to built around by legs, arms, and torso, hardening as it went.

"What are you doing?" my dad asked, almost shrill. "What the—"

"His orders, Danny," said the captain shortly. "He sent word when you went to the door."

There was a pause. "Oh," Dad said. His voice was horribly small.

As soon as the foam had congealed around my body, I felt the electric force through my limbs shatter. Vista immediately released a tumultuous string of oaths. Sophia was just looking at me.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I should have seen him sooner."

I shook my head. "Can you move?"

She started to shake her head, then hesitated. "I—"

"Blink out," I whispered. "Hurry, before they realize."

Vista's cursing was loud enough to mask our short exchange. Sophia grimaced. "I'm not leaving you," she said.

"You don't have a choice."

At that moment, the captain came into my view around Vista. "Do us all a favor," he said in a put-upon voice, "and stop that?"

Vista spat at him. "Fuck you! You fucking traitorous—"

The man pointed his foam gun directly into her face. "Don't finish that sentence," he said grimly.

"What?" she asked. "You're not gonna kill me. You want me to shut up? Gonna have to—"

He pulled the trigger, and Vista's face was covered in foam. For a moment, I heard her muffled shouts, and then she fell silent.
Thought for a sec he actually shot Vista here. Also not sure if Vista started cursing intentionally to give them cover for the conversation but it works.

The captain sighed. "Didn't want to do that," he said. He glanced at me. "I really do respect you, you know. All of you Wards. You've done amazing things, and you're just kids."

"It's not stopping you from betraying us," said Sophia. Her voice was soft, and she wasn't even looking at him. She was looking at me—no, past me. At my dad.

I heard him shift. I didn't look. I didn't want to see.

"No," the captain agreed, sounding almost sad. "No, it isn't."

The front door opened again, and the boy stepped out onto the threshold. "Hey, Annatar," he said, a sneer on his lips and in his voice. "Huge fan. Thanks for lending me your room."

I met his eyes and said nothing. The sneer faded a little. "Nothing to say?" he asked. "Not a peep? Just gonna take this?"

I said nothing. Sophia was looking at me now.

At length, the boy gave a rough sigh and shook his head, a scowl on his lips. "Fucking hell," he said. I was hoping to see some of that famous Annatar charisma. Was hoping you'd try to convince me to let you go. Didn't expect a little bitch."
Here is where I meant, it does seem very very odd to me that Taylor is not speaking or using her charisma. More importantly however it ties into something which confused me a little which is that she doesn't seem to be emoting very much in her internal monologue. As a first person perspective, obviously we aren't going to get a picture of their external expression unless some weirdness is going on but usually I would expect there to be some kind of thoughts highlighting her emotional state. I see now on another re-read that you've sprinkled it in with phrases like "I didn't want to see" and such but it can make the ring removal scene feel, like I said unsatisfying which I'll get into a bit later when it comes up.

"Say that again," said Sophia sharply, furiously. "I fucking dare you, punk. Say that again."

"Stalker!" I barked, glaring over at her. She turned to me—were those tears in her eyes?

"No," she mumbled.

"Now," I ordered.

She closed her eyes, and in a burst of shadow was gone.

"Fucking what?" barked the kid, blinking and then turning a furious glare on me. "What did—how? What the—"

"Enough, Shutdown!" the captain said sharply. "Shadow Stalker's gone. We're on a time limit. Let's get moving."

The kid grimaced. "Right. Do Vista first." He gave me a sharp grin. "I want to see the dread on her face."

"Shutdown…" My dad sounded reproachful. The kid glanced at him dismissively, and didn't even bother to respond.

The PRT troopers were approaching the foam-buried Vista with canisters of confoam solvent. They deployed it carefully, targeting the foam covering her left hand. Slowly, her hand was exposed, along with the Ring of Power on it.

"Don't," I said quietly.

"There it is," said Shutdown with relish. "Keep going."

"You'll regret this."

Vista's muffled protests went ignored as the captain reached down. He couldn't see Histeya, exactly, but he knew where it was, and soon his fingers closed around the mithril band. He began to pull.

Vista was screaming now. There were tears in my eyes. I'm so sorry.

Histeya didn't come off of Vista's finger easily. It had to be forced—painfully so, by the volume of Vista's protesting screams. I wanted to close my eyes, to look away, to cry and scream and rail. I did none of these things. I just watched as they stole one of the Seven from its proper Bearer.

The moment the band was off of her finger, Vista fell silent.

"Cool!" Shutdown exclaimed clapping his hands together in an almost childlike way. "Now, Annatar. Your turn."

My eyes met Shutdown's as the captain came to my left side. I didn't look as the foam over my hand dissolved.

As soon as my hand was free, I flexed my fingers. Lighting lanced forth, a burst of crackling electricity. It buried itself in the captain, and he was cast back, ten or fifteen feet, landing in a crumpled heap in the middle of the road.

The troopers all stepped away warily. Shutdown, after he got over the surprise, glared at me. "Danny!" he ordered. "You're standing there this time. Let's see if she'll do that to her own dad."

Dad came and stood beside me, even as one of the other troopers went to check on the captain. Shutdown looked over at them. "Well?" he asked.

"He's dead," said the trooper shakily. "She killed him."

My dad's breath caught. Mine didn't. When Shutdown turned back to me, my eyes were locked on his.

"You're going to regret this," I said. My voice was perfectly even, and my lips shaped the words with all the precision of a chisel engraving them in marble.

Shutdown's eyes narrowed. "We'll see," he said. "Danny?"

Dad knelt beside me and met my eyes. "I'm sorry, Taylor," he said, and there was real pain in his voice as he reached for Vilya. "It's not that I don't love you."

"I know," I said. There was a haze descending on my mind, like my brain was being choked with fog. "It's that you love him more."

Dad nodded. "Don't fight," he said as he began to tug on the Ring. It was stuck on my knuckle. "You'll understand soon."

I wasn't trapped in containment foam at all. I could feel the metal closing around me. I could smell the blood and shit.

Vilya slipped past the first knuckle, and caught on the second.

Please! I was screaming, begging, crying. Someone help me!

But my mouth wasn't moving, and nobody came. I tried to knock him out, push him away, and nothing happened.

Vilya came off, and for the first time in what felt like years, I was just Taylor.

"There," my father said, a tearful smile on his face. "That wasn't so hard. It'll all be okay soon, Taylor."

It'll all be over soon.

I was betrayed. I could feel the edge of the knife in my back. I could feel the squelching of filth under my feet, around my legs. It was rising to my waist, my stomach. It was all around me, it was inside me. I was—
Continuing on my critique I'll be honest here, I didn't feel like this was enough emotional turmoil to trigger. That's why I say it felt unsatisfying, in that it was very surprising and I was concerned that perhaps you hadn't conveyed the emotional magnitude of what was happening at least in some unvoiced portion of my head. Reading over it again I can catch the emotional hints and its actually a lot better.

"What the fuck is she doing!?" Shutdown's voice was distant. I barely registered it. My eyes were fixed on my father's face and wide eyes, the silver and red light playing on his features and reflecting in his eyes.
Lol get rekt you little shit. Critique basically over. It occured to me that what he is referencing is likely either her unconsciously speaking, cursing him, in the Black Speech, or singing in the Black Speech to create something, or her undergoing a physical transformation of some form. I'm pretty sure the silver and red light is Vilya. Or Sauron staring out from within.

As a further sidenote about Shutdown he kinda reads a bit like the S9 or Tagg. I, personally, have major issues with the S9 and Tagg because they read a bit like childish little shits that shouldn't actually mean as much as they end up doing. Their entire behavior smacks of flat childish blathering/pseudo philosophy basically. Shutdown seems similar. What this basically means is that I really don't like him. At all. But it actually fits him since he is a child.

The smell of shit gave way to ash and smoke and fire. The blood remained.

There were spiders in my veins. There were ants in my lungs. There were cockroaches in my hair.

There was fire in my eyes.

Destination.
Like I said above at the very beginning thinking about it, let me internalize the consequences and potential emotional turmoil but the first pass was difficult to grok the sheer existential horror Taylor is experiencing.

Anyway I cannot wait for next chapter oh my god. I want it so bad. I want to see Taylor at her Greatest and Most Terrible. My brain is literally salivating for it.


So, yeah on further reflection this is a really good chapter, but it needs its accompanying conclusion soon or we are going to explode in anticipation. Hopefully this was helpful.
 
So, yeah on further reflection this is a really good chapter, but it needs its accompanying conclusion soon or we are going to explode in anticipation. Hopefully this was helpful.
It really was. You drew my attention to something I've been doing stylistically for a while. I take a "show, don't tell" approach to conveying emotion even when it doesn't make sense to do so, sometimes. Like, in first person I should probably at least have more description of Taylor's emotional state. Instead, I let the action speak for itself. I like doing that, but I may be overdoing it. I'll think on this.

Anyway, yeah. 8.7--the arc's finale--on Friday.
 
It really was. You drew my attention to something I've been doing stylistically for a while. I take a "show, don't tell" approach to conveying emotion even when it doesn't make sense to do so, sometimes. Like, in first person I should probably at least have more description of Taylor's emotional state. Instead, I let the action speak for itself. I like doing that, but I may be overdoing it. I'll think on this.

Anyway, yeah. 8.7--the arc's finale--on Friday.
Some times it works, some times it doesn't. When it works, it works really really well. Glad I could help!
 
Oh, man. You haven't read Oathbringer yet? If you think you're afraid of Odium now..... :V
Eh, not afraid, because I enjoy watching mighty evil forces. Also, I know there's at least one (Adonalsium) Shard-bearer who is probably more powerful, by virtue of holding two of them.


But that, combined with seeing LotR thrown into Worm, makes me think about the parallel of Entity-Shards and Adonalsium-Shards (and Shards in the lesser sense in the Stormlight Archives). I wonder where that could go.

Meanwhile, in this? I am intrigued by what Administrator might do in conjunction with a Maiar soul.
 
Eh, not afraid, because I enjoy watching mighty evil forces. Also, I know there's at least one (Adonalsium) Shard-bearer who is probably more powerful, by virtue of holding two of them.

Well, more powerful as long as he doesn't have to DO anything :V

Meanwhile, in this? I am intrigued by what Administrator might do in conjunction with a Maiar soul.

I'm honestly not sure what's going to happen next, but I imagine it's going to include phrases like "I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high place and broke the mountainside where he smote it in his ruin."
 
Well, more powerful as long as he doesn't have to DO anything :V



I'm honestly not sure what's going to happen next, but I imagine it's going to include phrases like "I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high place and broke the mountainside where he smote it in his ruin."
Yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaa.

There will be Smiting. It will be Glorious and Terrible. All this scene needs is a great big spiky mace! :V
 
... Friday? I have to wait a handful of days to see this shit go down? I have to wait an excruciating eon of time to see this reckoning unfold in all of its terrible glory? Oh, the humanity! You're a monster, you tale spinner, a heartless beast masquerading as a proficient writer! For shame!
 
Oh my. I knew something was gonna happen. I just felt it in my bones. But this is worse than I suspected. I never expected a second trigger. Now I'm scared.

It really was. You drew my attention to something I've been doing stylistically for a while. I take a "show, don't tell" approach to conveying emotion even when it doesn't make sense to do so, sometimes. Like, in first person I should probably at least have more description of Taylor's emotional state. Instead, I let the action speak for itself. I like doing that, but I may be overdoing it. I'll think on this.

There is some conflict between 'show not tell' and first person narration. So far you have managed to maintain some balance, but I believe that maybe there is some point to what the others are saying.

When I read the last parts it felt powerful, what with the flashback to locker turning brimstone. The moment itself was great, if maybe a touch unclear, but reading it for the second time, I can see that there may be something lacking in the moments leading to it.

I mean it could work when described from someone else's point of view. Taylor staring desperately while her father removed the ring from her finger. With some finesse you could really squeeze out the feels out of a few choice sentences, you have the skill to pull it off.

But when seeing it from Taylor's eyes, something seems to be lacking. Maybe as little as one or two sentences. I dunno, something to the effect of 'And then seeing how my own father pulled the Ring of Power of my finger, something snapped'. Something to establish that it's her father betraying her that's making it worse.

Or maybe something like 'Don't do this dad, please!', some irrational plea. I mean Taylor has great control over herself, but her poining rationally 'but you love him more', while at the same time feeling locker close around herself, clashes a bit. You can't be all logical, while getting emotionally dragged down the drain to your darkest moment.

Other than that I liked the chapter. The only other thing I have somewhat mixed feelings about is how they were caught. I mean I'm disappointed they got caught so easily, when they were feeling something was wrong the whole time. It feels somewhat forced maybe, but on the other hand it just happens sometimes with power interactions. Tough I would like to see Sophia at least try to shoot Shutdown, before escaping, even if she were to fail and be forced to flee.

And... man here I was meaning to just leave a quick note and don't go on a tangent. Anyway, point is I'm still scared now. The world is beggining to burn.
 
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Something that occurred to me...
What happened with Danny's Ring?
Taylor gave him a lesser ring in order to protect him, so how did he get mastered?
 
I mean Taylor has great control over herself, but her poining rationally 'but you love him more', while at the same time feeling locker close around herself, clashes a bit.
I disagree entirely. Her realization as to WHY he was betraying her didn't make the pain of it any less. Knowing that he loved Heartbreaker more than her hurt. It was devastating. It was the cause of her "feeling the locker close in."

That wasn't cold logic excusing his behavior. That was an utterance of broken horror at the realization.
 
I didn't mean to suggest that the realization diminished her pain. Far from it.

But I remember that when I was reading it for the first time, I imagined those words spoken with calm resigned logic, only for the next few sentences to whack me on the head with realisation that she is breaking up, and then I had to go, 'oh wait, that wasn't really calm, was it'. Thus the small clash I felt. My interpretation was obviously flawed, but the narration before didn't ping me with her getting overwhelmed emotionally until that point, so something obviously went wrong.
 
I didn't mean to suggest that the realization diminished her pain. Far from it.

But I remember that when I was reading it for the first time, I imagined those words spoken with calm resigned logic, only for the next few sentences to whack me on the head with realisation that she is breaking up, and then I had to go, 'oh wait, that wasn't really calm, was it'. Thus the small clash I felt. My interpretation was obviously flawed, but the narration before didn't ping me with her getting overwhelmed emotionally until that point, so something obviously went wrong.
Ah. I dunno what to suggest, then, because my first reading of it had it come out as devastated. The kind of hollow, near-emotionless tone of somebody who is in emotional shock.

I see why what you say would be jarring, but - and I'm not trying to say "you're bad," here - I think it MIGHT just be your misreading, and not something wrong with how it's written. I could be wrong, but I can't think how to better get it across than what's there.

Again, despite saying "I think you just read it wrong," I'm not trying to be dismissive nor accusatory. Sorry if it comes off that way. (Tone is hard over text.)
 
Flicker 8.6
This is a rewritten version of Monday's chapter, with pretty substantial changes to the content. If you feel like you've read this before, that's why.

Many thanks to @Assembler, @themanwhowas, @BeaconHill, and ShadowStepper1300 for betareading. Thanks especially to @BeaconHill for assistance in rewriting.

Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.


-x-x-x-​

"For the record," said Vista, "I don't like this plan."

"Got any better ideas?" Sophia asked.

"Nope. Just thought you ought to know how I felt about it.'"

"You don't have to come," I said, looking over at her.

She met my eyes. "I know," she said dryly. "I owe you this much, though."

We were standing outside PRT HQ. The stars glimmered overhead, dimmed by the faint haze of light pollution and smog, even reduced as it was by Leviathan and Bakuda. The street was nearly silent, save for the muted bustle of the PRT working inside the building behind us.

I'd lived through gang wars, before I gained my powers. I remembered times when Brockton Bay had been a city at war, but those wars had never been concrete. They had always been distant dangers, additional risks to be aware of, but never clear and present threats to me personally.

Since gaining powers, I'd faced Bakuda, Leviathan, and now Valefor and Heartbreaker. Nothing before had compared, and the city, in silence, seemed to agree.

It made some small part of me wonder. Was the city tearing itself apart now because I was here? Or was I here, now, because the city was tearing itself apart?

"Anyway," Vista said, turning away from me. "North, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "Let's get to the edge of Downtown, first. We should be careful from there."

Vista nodded. "Proceeding toward Downtown," she echoed, speaking into her headset. Then the air twisted before us as space compressed. "Come on," she said, and led us onward.

I watched her. Her shoulders were set, and her movements were direct and deliberate. "You're not afraid," I said, almost surprising myself by breaking the silence.

Vista glanced back at me, blinking. "No. Should I be?"

"I don't know," I answered. "I am."

"Heartbreaker can't hurt us," Vista said with a raised eyebrow. "Not with your Rings. Right?"

"Right," I said, glancing away.

There was a moment's silence as Vista stretched space again.

"He'll be fine," Sophia said quietly. "We'll make sure of it."

I swallowed and didn't reply. We continued in silence for a time. Above our heads, the stars burned like shards of ice.

"This is about as far as I think we're safe going," said Vista suddenly, coming to a stop and letting her hands fall as the condensed space behind us loosened again. "Histeya's… cold."

I nodded. "After this point, we can't count on support," I said. "Shadow Stalker, any ideas?"

"Stick to the rooftops, stay in cover, and get to the house as quickly as we can," Sophia said immediately. "We want to avoid being seen, right?"

"Makes sense to me," said Vista. "Ready when you are."

I swallowed and nodded. "Let's go."

-x-x-x-​

"Think anyone saw us?" Sophia asked.

We were on the rooftop of one of the houses next to mine, looking over at my house across the street. There was a PRT van parked outside, and the lights were on inside.

"No," I said quietly. "But I can't be sure."

"Look at it this way," said Vista. "Even if it is a trap, it's not a trap for us. Protocol would be to send a PRT squad in. They won't be expecting three Ring-Bearers."

"If it's a trap, my father's the bait," I answered. "Even if they lose, we still don't win."

Sophia nudged me. "It might be fine. We won't know until we go in."

"I hope so. Do either of you notice anything?"

Vista hesitated for just a moment. "They should have hidden the van."

"And there should be an officer with it," Sophia said. "Looks empty from here."

I nodded. "Right. Bad signs." I turned on my radio. "We're there, on the rooftops across the street. The squad van is parked outside the house, empty. Vista and Stalker think there might be something wrong."

"Understood," said Aegis, his voice crackly and just a little bit faint. "You still going in?"

I hesitated for just a second. "Yes," I said. "We need to extract the VIP. We'll be careful."

"Okay." Aegis sounded worried. "Should I let the troopers know you're coming?"

"Not until we're at the door." I shut my radio off, turned to my teammates. "We stay in the open and we stay together," I ordered. "There are only three of us. If we split up, that means one of us is alone. A sitting duck." They nodded. "Stalker, turn your radio on, keep in contact with HQ. Check in every thirty seconds, relay everything that happens."

"Got it." Sophia turned her headset on, then sealed her mask, muffling her voice so that no one could overhear her from outside. "Thirty-second checkins," she echoed. "I'll relay the situation."

"We'll be listening," said Aegis.

"Good," I radioed. "Descending now."

I dropped off of the roof. The wind whistled past me for an instant as I fell, before I hit the ground with only the faintest clack of metal on concrete. Sophia and Vista joined me a moment later. Together we crept across the street, watching the PRT van and the surrounding buildings for any sign of movement. Nothing disturbed the night.

"Seems quiet down here," Sophia radioed. "Let the troopers know we're here now."

As we walked up to the front door, I couldn't help a faint feeling that I was leading my teammates to the gallows. The path came to an end all too soon, and we were on the threshold. I had to force myself to raise my fist and knock.

Dad answered the door, and as soon as I saw his face light up in affection, I relaxed. He looked perfectly fine. "T—" he started, then stopped. "Annatar," he said. "To what—"

"There's no time," I said. "You're in danger. I need you to come with me. We're extracting you and the PRT operatives assigned to protect you."

Dad frowned. "What's happened?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"The VIP answered the door himself," Sophia radioed, a suspicious edge to her voice. I glanced nervously into the house, but even if the troopers were there, they wouldn't have heard it through her closed mask. "I don't see any of the troopers, weren't they inside?"

I bit my lip, trying to focus on my father. "It's… it's a long story," I said. "Your PRT detail sent out a distress call an hour or so ago."

"Oh," he said, realization crossing his features. "There was a fight a couple streets down. ABB. Lung got involved. It died down earlier."

"That's what they told HQ," I said, "but there's a lot going on tonight. Come on, we need to move."

"Right," he agreed, and turned around. "All right, Captain, your men can come out. They're friends."

There was shuffling behind him—movement from inside the house. I stepped back, onto the lawn, to let Dad pass, as four PRT officers came down the hall towards us, weapons down, but in their hands.

I could feel Vista tensing beside me. I glanced down at her. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes were darting hither and thither as though seeking something.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, keeping my voice at a low murmur.

Her head gave a minute tilt from side to side. "Maybe," she said, just as quietly. "They shouldn't have hidden, and they shouldn't have weapons drawn."

"It's not because of the alert?"

Before she could answer, the PRT troopers were outside with us. "Annatar," said their leader with a nod. "Good to see you. The fighting's gotten awfully close. Did they send a squad with you, or is it just you three?"

"Just us," I said. "We should be plenty."

He nodded. His face was fully covered by the visor of his riot helmet, so I couldn't see his expression. It bothered me. "I'm not going to disagree with that," he said. "Are we falling back to headquarters, then?"

"Troopers were in the house, hiding," Sophia radioed, still sounding skeptical. "They're acting a little odd. Their weapons are drawn."

"That's the plan," I confirmed.

"Then should we take the van?"

"No," said Vista quickly, before I could respond. "Or, well, we won't. We'll head out with the VIP while your squad takes the car back."

He glanced at her. "Why split up?" he asked. "You can take the van with you when you use your power, can't you, Vista?"

She glanced up at me, as if asking for help. I obliged. "If we split up, it gives the enemy more targets," I said. "We weren't discovered on our approach, as far as we know, so any enemies will probably follow the van. It makes sense to take the VIP by the most secure route possible, right?"

The man considered that. "Suppose that makes sense," he agreed. "All right, people, let's go."

We stepped further back, Danny following us onto the road, as the troopers filed out, forming a line in front of the van. Then Sophia froze, stopping in her tracks. Her eyes were cast upward, towards my bedroom window. I followed her gaze. The curtains were drawn.

"Something wrong, Shadow Stalker?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," she muttered, voice only audible through the radio. She squinted, staring into the window. "What room is that?"

"My bedroom," I murmured, quietly enough so that the PRT troops, a few feet in front of us, wouldn't hear.

Sophia nodded, but didn't reply. Her eyes widened, and I felt her tense suddenly like an animal caught in headlights.

"Someone's up there," she hissed. "Vista, get us out of here!"

Vista's eyes flashed. "On it." Her hands rose, but at that moment, the curtains over my bedroom window were thrown aside.

There was a child there—a boy, maybe thirteen years old. His shoulder-length black hair was done up in a ponytail, and his eyes flashed in the dark.

I felt my arms and legs seize up, locking into place as though electrocuted. Vista and Sophia both stiffened beside me.

The boy stared down at us. In the moonlight, now that the curtains had been drawn back, I could see the sweat beading on his brow, twinkling in the reflected dusk.

"Foam 'em," ordered the captain. "Danny, step back." He was close--too close. My eyes, darting around, could see the troopers circling around us. Vista wouldn't be able to warp space with this little room between living people.

It wasn't my first time being subjected to containment foam. It was a mandatory part of training. That'd didn't mean I was ready for it when the foam began to build around by legs, arms, and torso, hardening as it went.

"What are you doing?" my dad asked, almost shrill. "What the—"

"His orders, Danny," said the captain. "He sent word when you went to the door."

There was a pause. "Oh," Dad said. His voice was horribly small. I'd thought I could tell. I was wrong. He was totally enthralled, and I hadn't seen it.

As soon as the foam had congealed around my body, I felt the electric force through my limbs shatter. Vista immediately released a tumultuous string of oaths. Sophia was just looking at me.

"We've been captured," Sophia radioed, her voice shaky but stable, with just a hint of panic. "Some kind of paralysis cape in the upstairs window. They're all compromised, troops and VIP."

"Fuck!" Aegis said. "Sending backup now, ETA four minutes."

"Got it," Sophia replied, her voice sounding weak, defeated. She turned to me, as much as the foam would allow. "I'm sorry, Taylor. I should have seen him sooner."

I shook my head. "Can you move?"

She started to shake her head, then hesitated. "I—"

"Blink out," I whispered. "Buy some time."

Vista's cursing was loud enough to mask our short exchange. Sophia grimaced. "I'm not leaving you," she said.

"You're not. We need to give the others time to get here."

At that moment, the captain came into my view around Vista. "Do us all a favor," he said in a put-upon voice, "and stop that?"

Vista spat at him. "Fuck you! You fucking traitorous—"

The man pointed his foam gun directly into her face. "Don't finish that sentence," he said grimly.

Vista gave him an icy glare, but fell silent.

The captain sighed and glanced at me. "I really do respect you, you know. All of you Wards. You've done amazing things, and you're just kids."

"It's not stopping you from betraying us," said Sophia. Her voice was soft, and she wasn't even looking at him. She was looking at me—no, past me. At my dad.

I heard him shift. I didn't look. I didn't want to see.

"No," the captain agreed, sounding almost sad. "No, it isn't."

The front door opened again, and the boy stepped out onto the threshold. "Hey, Annatar," he said, a sneer on his lips and in his voice. "Huge fan. Thanks for lending me your room." I met his eyes and said nothing. The sneer faded a little. "Nothing to say?" he asked. "Not a peep? Just gonna take this?"

Still I said nothing. Sophia was looking at me now.

The boy gave a rough sigh and shook his head, a scowl on his lips. "Fucking hell," he said. "I was hoping to see some of that famous Annatar charisma. Was hoping you'd try to convince me to let you go. Didn't expect a little bitch."

"Say that again," said Sophia. "I fucking dare you. Say that again!"

"Stalker!" I barked, glaring over at her. She turned to me—were those tears in her eyes?

For a moment, she was silent. Then, in a burst of shadow, she was gone.

"Fucking what?" barked the kid, blinking and then turning a furious glare on me. "What did—how? What the—"

"Form up!" the captain ordered, ignoring him. "Keep your eyes open! She could come from—"

Then he gurgled and fell, a tranquilizer bolt in his neck. "Fuck!" exclaimed another trooper, waving his foam gun wildly. "What the fuck! How—"

The boy, however, didn't hesitate. In a second, he had a knife in his hand, pressed to my throat. "Shadow Stalker!" he called. "You got away—good on you. We don't want you anyway. But if you keep shooting, Annatar here will pay for it."

Silence fell. After a moment, the kid grinned. "Perfect," he said, and there was a perverse satisfaction in his voice. He met my eyes as he spoke to the soldiers. "Do Vista first. I want to see the dread on her face. And someone else hold this knife!"

"Shutdown…" My dad sounded reproachful. The kid glanced at him dismissively as he passed the knife off to a trooper. He didn't even bother to respond.

"The fuck do you mean?" Vista asked, looking from Shutdown to the soldiers. "What are you doing?"

The PRT troopers were approaching her with a canister of confoam solvent. I'd only ever seen it at base—I had no idea where Heartbreaker had gotten ahold of it. They deployed it carefully, targeting the foam covering her left hand. Slowly, her hand was exposed, along with the Ring of Power on it.

Vista's face paled. "No," she murmured. "No, you can't."

"There it is," said Shutdown with relish. "Keep going."

"You'll regret this." I spoke quietly, without much emotion. It wasn't that I wasn't feeling anything—it was that I was feeling too much to express.

Shutdown ignored me. He wasn't even looking at me now, instead watching Vista with a smile on his face as he listened to her protests.

"No," she said again, her voice growing higher. "Please, you can't, I don't—It's mine! I can't, it won't…"

Vista's nearly incoherent protests went ignored as the officer reached down. He couldn't see Histeya, exactly, but he knew where it was, and soon his fingers closed around the mithril band. He began to pull.

Vista was screaming wordlessly now. There were tears in my eyes. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, but she couldn't hear me. Shutdown did, and he gave me a cruel smile.

Histeya didn't come off of Vista's finger easily. It had to be forced—painfully so, by the volume of Vista's protesting screams. I wanted to close my eyes, to look away, to cry and scream and rail. I did none of these things. I just watched as they stole one of the Seven from its proper Bearer.

The moment the band was off of her finger, Vista fell silent, her head bowed. Tears tracked their way down ruddy cheeks. The troopers around her, including the one with his knife at my jugular, looked slightly sick.

"Cool!" Shutdown exclaimed clapping his hands together in an almost childlike way. "Now, Annatar. Your turn."

My eyes held Shutdown's as a soldier came to my left side. I didn't look as the foam over my hand dissolved.

As soon as my hand was free, I flexed my fingers. Lighting lanced forth, a burst of crackling electricity. It buried itself in the trooper, and he was cast back, ten or fifteen feet, landing in a crumpled heap in the middle of the road.

The troopers all stepped away warily. Shutdown, after he got over the surprise, glared at me. "Danny!" he ordered. "You're standing there this time. Let's see if she'll do that to her own dad."

Dad came and stood beside me, even as one of the other troopers went to check on their fellow trooper. Shutdown looked over at them. "Well?" he asked.

"He's dead," said the trooper shakily. "She killed him."

My dad's breath caught. Mine didn't. When Shutdown turned back to me, my eyes were locked on his.

"You're going to regret this," I said. My voice was perfectly even, and my lips shaped the words with all the precision of a chisel engraving them in marble.

Shutdown's eyes narrowed. "We'll see," he said. "Danny?"

Dad knelt beside me and met my eyes. "I'm sorry, Taylor," he said, and there was real pain in his voice as he reached for Vilya. "It's not that I don't love you."

"I know," I said. At last, I turned away from Shutdown to look up at my dad. Tears were sparkling in his eyes—and also in mine. There was a haze descending on my mind, like my brain was being choked with fog. "It's that you love him more."

Dad nodded. "Don't fight," he said as he began to tug on the Ring. It was stuck on my knuckle. "You'll understand soon."

I wasn't trapped in containment foam at all. I could feel the metal closing around me. I could smell the blood and shit.

Vilya slipped past the first knuckle, and caught on the second.

Please! I was screaming, begging, crying. Someone help me!

But my mouth wasn't moving, and nobody came. I tried to knock him out, push him away, and nothing happened.

Vilya came off, and for the first time in what felt like years, I was just Taylor.

"There," my father said, a tearful smile on his face. "That wasn't so hard. It'll all be okay soon, Taylor."

It'll all be over soon.

I was betrayed. I could feel the edge of the knife in my back. I could feel the squelching of filth under my feet, around my legs. It was rising to my waist, my stomach. It was all around me, it was inside me. I was—

"What the fuck is she doing!?" Shutdown's voice was distant. I barely registered it. My eyes were fixed on my father's face and wide eyes, the silver and red light playing on his features and reflecting in his eyes.

The smell of shit gave way to ash and smoke and fire. The blood remained.

I had been so afraid of myself, so concerned with the danger I presented, that I had ignored the dangers from outside. This was where my moralizing led: my father mastered, three Rings stolen, and a city at war with itself. No more.

There were spiders in my veins. There were ants in my lungs. There were cockroaches in my hair.

There was fire in my eyes.

Destination.

-x-x-x-​

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