Dragon (Higashi Kenta aka Lung)
09 January 2011
Kenta frowned as he sat in his office, late that night. He'd had a passing encounter with someone on the boardwalk that left him feeling vaguely disturbed. It had stirred something instinctual within him, a need to defend his territory, to drive off an interloper.
When he stopped and thought about it, there was nothing about the girl in question that caused this; she was not physically threatening or imposing. She was tall and skinny, not even up to his organization's standards for its sex workers. Yet there was something about her, something primal, that put him on edge.
"I despise riddles," he growled.
"Something troubling you?" asked Mei, as she brought in some tea.
If there was anything that he, Lung the Dragon, would call his treasure, it would be his wife and daughter. If there was something that would cause him to go on a rampage similar to the old kaiju movies, it would be the theft of that treasure.
Right now, the dragon was content to stay in his lair, guard his treasure, and manage his empire. An empire that was slowly moving away from the illegal side of things and moving into somewhat more legal businesses such as the porn studio he'd bought up.
The introduction of Takara into his life had put him in an odd position; for the first few years, the child had no perception of what her father did for a living. However, as the child grew more intelligent and more curious, it became harder and harder to hide his criminal activities from the girl. He had actually laughed at a list that someone had posted to the internet called "The Evil Overlord's List". So many of these things were true.
Of particular note was the one about a five-year-old child checking over your plans for obvious flaws. The flip side of that was that said five-year-old child could also uncover your plans in relatively short order. Such was the danger of having children. He was fairly certain that they had hidden his activities from the child, but she was both frighteningly intelligent and insatiably curious.
"Nothing of import," was his reply. He described the encounter with the strange girl on the boardwalk to her.
"Another parahuman, perhaps?"
"A possibility. Still, I have other things to worry about than mysterious new capes."
She nodded. "The incident at Winslow was wrapped up in short order," she continued. "The girl has recovered, but the persons responsible are facing a very long list of charges across the entire legal spectrum." She laughed a bit at that. "Why do something so stupid?"
Kenta thought back to his own misspent youth and sighed. "'It seemed like a good idea at the time,' is the usual excuse." He sipped at his tea. "It is good that they will be punished." He did not like bullying, it was the act of a coward. One could argue that what he did was bullying, but he applied just enough intimidation to make people fear him, and then left off. No physical abuse, just enough fear to keep them in line.
There was a small noise at the door. Takara was standing there in her Vista themed pajamas. "Oyasumi, Papa, Mama," she said, yawning.
"Oyasumi, Takara-chan," he replied, before walking over and giving his daughter a hug. Picking her up, he made sure she was safely in bed before returning to his office.
- - - - - - - - - -
Tuesday 18 Jan 2011
Lung had been furious. It was much later in the evening, and his wife and daughter were both home safe. He had already punished the two men who had shirked their duties. As they were two of his more reliable minions, the punishment, for him, was a minor one; he'd simply docked their pay for their inattention and hit each one hard enough to knock them out.
He sat down at his desk and continued to read the file his moles had managed to lift from the PRT system. An eyebrow arched as he scanned the pages; that tall, stick of a girl could change into a dragon that looked like it had come from a fantasy video game, complete with all the requisite powers?
She would be an interesting opponent. She could neutralize most of his advantages, and it would be down to who could last the longest.
Now he knew why he'd felt the need to drive an intruder away, to protect his territory. The girl could probably be a terror with some training. Against shitappa, she would be overkill, as proven by the two Merchants who had tried to mug his wife. There would be an example made of the two; it was practically expected of him.
Against other capes, he would just have to watch the local news and scrape PHO for videos.
Of more concern was his daughter's interest in capes in general, and heroes in particular. It would make things awkward if she were to trigger. She had the potential to; when she was complaining about a series of headaches that medication wasn't helping, the doctor had ordered an MRI. She had a corona pollentia, which explained the headache. Mei was told and given a prescription for some mild pain medication suitable for the child.
Somehow, the girl had found out the results and declared she wanted to be a Ward if she triggered.
Inwardly he grumbled; outwardly, both he and Mei smiled and basically said: "That's nice, dear."
So now he had this problem to deal with as well as his normal day-to-day problems. He could only hope that Lee had less trouble with his own tasks.
- - - - - - - - - -
Saturday, 04 Feb 2011 2000hrs
Lung had gotten word that the Merchants were planning on moving a lot of money out of the area. He decided that the money should be his, as weregild for a number of his men that had been killed and injured in an earlier car chase. He and Oni Lee were out, getting ready to raise some hell when hell decided not to wait.
A pair of manhole covers blew into the air as some explosives were set off in the old steam tunnels beneath the road. He watched three things that vaguely looked like dogs the size of rhinoceros covered in bone plates go charging by. The Undersiders, most likely, given the costumes the group was wearing. Then, two grenades flew in through the open window of his Cadillac, and then went off in his lap.
The explosion would have killed lesser men; Lung was not one of those. Something he did not let out was that he was still something of a Brute even not ramped up, and his regeneration worked all the time, not just while he was ramping up. While the detonation of the grenades may have killed the driver of the vehicle, blown out the windows, and peeled the top back, it did not, in fact, do much damage to Lung himself.
It did, however, make him mad. Wrenching open the door, he climbed free of the wreck. Gesturing to his men, he started off down the street after the Undersiders.
He heard the detonation of several grenades ahead; Oni Lee had intercepted the group and had unloaded all of his grenades. Things were quiet for a couple of minutes before he heard a bone-chilling sound. The last time he had heard this sound it had been him roaring his challenge at Leviathan, to protect his home.
He felt fear as he had never felt it before. The new Ward, Naurelin, her aura was that of the alpha predator. In-person, she was impressive, a gleaming wall of golden scales, and as massive as a semi-tractor trailer. With a couple of formalities quickly dealt with, the fight of Lung the Dragon vs. Naurelin the Dragon began.
- - - - - - - -
Lung sat in the back of the PRT van, in brute rated restraining cuffs and the special restraining collar he'd had the displeasure of wearing twice before. He had been utterly shamed by a real dragon, who did not hesitate to use one of his few weaknesses against him, yet held her hand because of it as well.
He hung his head in shame; not in the fact that he had lost in battle, but that he had lost in a battle against a mere, untrained slip of a girl who had already used her healing abilities to save the Undersiders. Despite the danger, despite the odds. He had grossly underestimated her and had paid the price.
He would have plenty of time to contemplate his folly.
- = [ @ ] = -
Overlord (Max Anders aka Kaiser)
Saturday 05 Feb 2011
Max Anders liked to think he was the lord of all he surveyed. He controlled one of the largest employers in the bay, Medhall Pharmaceuticals. He was the leader of the largest group of combat-ready capes in the city, the Empire 88, which also boasted the largest membership of normal members of any of the gangs and controlled the largest territory.
That had been until he saw the first news reports from late last night.
Lung and the new Ward, Naurelin, had gotten into a brutal fight last night. As in, blood flying everywhere, possible body parts coming loose, and sheer primal brutality.
"I'm impressed," was Brad's comment. "I didn't think any of the Wards would have it in them."
"Idiot," Max muttered. "You might be the only one in this room who makes her pause for a couple of moments if only to heat you up until you start melting."
"She's definitely untrained," came from Victor. "Very little skill, a whole lot of power, and a fair bit of luck. I can see why someone tried AM rifles first. Let's them stay back out of her range."
"Which is still an unknown," Max responded.
"Her complete file isn't on the PRT Network at all," noted Krieg. "None of our moles are willing to go looking for it, either. They all comment that several PRT records are offline in their entirety."
"She is becoming a bigger problem every damn day," grumbled Max. "The longer we wait, the more skilled she gets, and the problem keeps growing.
"We can no longer avoid this problem."
"How are we going to deal with it," asked Alabaster. "No disrespect, but our ranged options are limited. With Purity gone, that leaves Stormtiger, Rune, and Victor, all of whom would not survive a single hit. If we keep her on the ground, yes, the twins could probably do some damage, or hold her there until more troops arrive to finish the job. Could they take a face full of fire or whatever that gas was? If Naurelin gets in the air, they're simply bigger targets until they shrink.
"The job has to result in a kill because if you don't kill the dragon, it will come and kill you." There was a pause. "And, if we kill a Ward, our next visitors will be the Triumvirate, and it will be open season on Nazis in Brockton Bay, no quarter given."
"I can take her," muttered Brad Meadows, better known as Hookwolf.
"Brad, I think you have taken a few too many blows to the head," was Max's response. "You couldn't take Lung on a good day. She can. You can melt. She can't."
"Then why not look at some of the old stories for answers?" asked Nessa. "I mean, those old heroes resorted to some devious tricks to slay those various dragons, didn't they?"
"Could a way to do so be made to look like an accident?" This came from Jessica.
"That never works," growled Max. "Postcog and precog is a thing, people. If a normal detective can figure out if something that's a cause of death only appears to be accidental, what do you think a Thinker can do?"
"Then we're at square one again," commented Cricket. "We had a dragon who was contained. Then came another dragon, who threw his ass in the clink. She's Protectorate, and that means certain things: First unless a criminal activity happens in front of them, they can't do much. Normal operations should be fine.
"We're not out on the streets much," she continued. "Less of a chance for us to be picked up. Granted, some of us do have Federal warrants for our arrest, so they have to stay out of sight. Other than that, I don't see why business can't go on as normal, just so long as we don't poke the sleeping dragon and make it angry."
"It's not an ideal solution," was Max's answer, "but it is a solution.
"Next Item: How goes the search for a Tinker of our own?"
"Again, Leet emphatically refused," Krieg replied. "He might be a gamer nerd, and can only make one of anything, but he can bite back pretty hard."
"Night and Fog send their regards from Boston," Victor added. "They do mention that some crazy Asian broad was creating trouble in Ithaca and was headed north. Said she might be an EO Tinker."
"Oh, that's just great," snarled Max. "Lung probably recruited her, and she's on her way north to take over.
"Can this place get any worse???"
- = [ @ ] = -
Jester(Ethan Walsh, aka Assault)
04 Jan 2011 0830 hrs.
Ethan Walsh had just clocked in and was preparing for another day of driving the villains and criminals of Brockton Bay insane. At least, that was what he told everyone. In reality, the whacked sense of humor and seemingly insane banter made people underestimate him, allowed him to find out things that he might not find out otherwise.
Most of the people he worked with knew that the prankster and smart-ass act was just that – at the drop of a pin, Ethan could go from silly slapstick to deadly serious, and most who didn't know him were usually caught flat-footed when the kinetic manipulator went on the offensive and paid the price.
He was currently sitting at the morning's briefing, wherein an act of bioterrorism had been committed at Winslow High School.
"That is fucked up," he noted. It said a lot that his normal patrol partner, Battery, didn't elbow him for the comment. Nor did Miss Militia say anything. "Any suspects?"
"They're already in custody," his superior answered. "They were apprehended as they came to school. They're being held pending an investigation; one by the PRT, and two by the BBPD."
Ethan shook his head. "Knowing our luck," he grumbled, "Shadow Stalker most likely did something she shouldn't have." All he needed to see was Miss Militia's face for confirmation. "Shit, I'm right. I hate being right."
"How did you come to the conclusion that it was Shadow Stalker?" Miss Militia asked. "Considering that you've not looked at the file in front of you."
"Easy," he replied, grinning. "She's a discipline problem. Every time in the last six months I've had to do a joint patrol, I've had to remind her about using excessive force. Other Wards, notably Clockblocker and Vista, have complained to me about her when they felt their complaints weren't being taken seriously. I've found and reported evidence of crossbow bolts being embedded in various things that a crossbow shouldn't be able to penetrate at all, along with blood. All respectfully submitted." He took a sip of his coffee. "And, she goes to Winslow because she failed the entrance exams for Arcadia, had too many problems at Clarendon, and wasn't allowed on the grounds of Immaculata because of her criminal record. Anything else?"
Miss Militia could only shake her head.
- - - - - - - - - -
As the week rolled from the absolutely fucking wreck at the start, things gradually improved. He had watched the new parahuman undergo her initial power testing, immediately recognizing the fact that the impact testing machine had malfunctioned. He had stopped his demented cackling, as Battery often called his laughter, and simply had just arched an eyebrow. He knew something, similar to how his own power operated, had just happened. The girl should have been seriously injured.
"That is complete bullshit," he muttered authoritatively before almost breaking up into hysterics because of the girl's innocent antics.
- - - - - - - - - -
The next Tuesday evening had a rather rude surprise for all of Brockton Bay; It wasn't very often that one got to see a dragon soaring serenely on the thermals over the city.
Fortunately for Assault and Battery, they had already pulled over for their normal dinner break at Fugly Bob's before traffic slowed from a crawl to a dead stop as everyone who could watch or filmed what was going on.
"Aren't you glad I decided to stop for dinner early, Puppy?" he asked Battery, before tearing into his Cap'n Bob's Whaler Sandwich.
"Decided to stop early, my ass," she said. "I heard the comm chatter as well as you did. The only reason she's not getting in trouble is that she called it in an hour ago." She popped a chicken finger into her mouth from her Silly Spread meal.
"Gotta love the girl's style though."
- - - - - - - - - -
Ethan was just getting ready to clock out when Miss Militia texted him.
M: Naurelin shook up bad, needs support.
A: Where @?
M: Cafeteria 2
A: On it.
He found the girl down in the cafeteria, just kind of staring at a cup of hot chocolate. She could see her shaking as the adrenaline was wearing off. "Hey," he said quietly.
"Hi," she said in reply, almost a whisper.
"Care to talk about it?" There was a time for humor, and there was a time for genuine concern, and Ethan was putting all the concern he could into his voice. "Heard something happened."
"Somebody shot at me," she said quietly, "with a really big gun."
Ethan nodded, taking in Naurelin's complete lack of bloodstains and bandages. "Yeah, that can be pretty bad. Looks like they missed, though."
Naurelin proceeded to tell him exactly what injuries she had sustained, which caused his eyebrows to disappear into his bangs.
"Sounds handy," he allowed. "How are you feeling?"
"Really shook up," was her answer. "I hear gunshots all the time. However, I've never been shot at, let alone shot up." She took a sip of her hot chocolate, the marshmallow having melted into rich, gooey goodness.
He snickered quietly. "Mustache," he said, pointing to his upper lip.
The smile he was rewarded with was worth it.
Well, nothing for it, he thought. "I can only see one solution to this problem," he stated seriously.
Naurelin's confused answer was more typical of a conversation with Assault.
"Killing it with chocolate," he said with a shrug and a wink. "Works for Battery. I'll be right back." He walked up to the counter. "Some of Battery's chocolate cake and ice cream, with hot fudge."
"For the kid?" asked the server as he went to grab the requested items from the serving line.
"Yep. She's had a rough night."
"For a good cause. Your card, or Miss Militia's?"
"Miss Militia's."
He set the chocolatey mess down in front of her, stifled a snicker as her stomach rumbled, and waited for her to get to a stopping point.
"Thanks," she said, wiping the fudge and chocolate off her mouth.
"You're welcome," he responded, drinking some coffee.
- - - - - - - - - -
It was Saturday afternoon. Assault had just popped into the PRT building after Naurelin's debut and used his clearance to drop off a present for the newest Ward. He wondered if she would appreciate the selection of gourmet sauces he had picked out for her, ostensibly for eating the criminals who wouldn't surrender. They'd make good barbecue sauces and condiments for various other cuts of meat, too.
His demented cackling was heard throughout the building.
In her office, Director Piggot could only wonder what that lunatic was up to this time…
- - - - - - - - - -
Assault walked into the tent after Naurelin had been patched up after her fight with Lung. Panacea and Glory Girl were both there, and they were chatting a bit with the Dragon.
"Excuse me," he asked, getting Naurelin's attention. "If you're going to want another 'death by chocolate' dessert, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. I'll need more lead time on a dragon-sized cake and truckload of chocolate ice cream and hot fudge than a couple of minutes."
Fortunately, Naurelin caught the spirit of his complaint and chuckled. "I think we're good, actually," she replied. "The thought is appreciated, though."
- - - - - - - - - -
"We've got six Merchants and two E88 mooks that are frozen solid, and frozen to the fence or the side of a building?" Assault asked Armsmaster, somewhat incredulous.
"Yes," the Tinker answered. "I specifically asked for you because, despite your attitude, you're very observant and good at thinking outside the box."
"Box? What Box?" was his answer, with his normal grin.
Armsmaster sighed.
Assault went around looking at the bodies where they were still attached to the DWU fence. They were, indeed frozen solid, and frozen to a vertical surface.
"The first thing I'll note is that freezing wasn't the cause of death for most of these mooks," he stated. "This guy has a broken neck. Two others had their trachea crushed."
"An attack, then?"
"Probably, though not by a parahuman."
"Why not?"
"I know of a half dozen parahumans in the area who could do this kind of damage. Hellhound is at the PRT building. Night is in Boston. Crawler is out west someplace. Garotte could do this, but she's not mobile enough, and Naurelin is currently at home. However, none of them could freeze a person solid.
"And while there could be any number of explanations for the freezing – I can even do it – they were blasted from one side, given how the crystals are formed."
"Tinkertech?"
"Possible. An ice-thrower?"
Armsmaster thought for a second. "Theoretically. But you have another idea."
"We've got one cryptocritter here in the Bay, why not another?" Assault pointed down at the ground. "That is not a human footprint. I'd bet that's pretty close to Naurelin's footprint, except smaller."
"It is actually a closer match to one found during the Winslow investigation," Armsmaster stated. "And very similar to one found in the '50s by the RCAF."
"That's just what we need," Assault said, definitely unhappy. "A white dragon on a rampage in the Bay."
- - - - - - - - - -
Assault joined Miss Militia in the Protectorate lounge area. It had been a weird week, with the frozen gangers and the ram raids of grocery stores and trucks. At least they'd had gotten a clear picture of what was currently loose in the Bay.
As their off-the-clock discussion had continued, he had found out that things he had once thought of as something from a game he had played around with a bunch of friends were crawling out of the woodwork and walking the city streets! The very thought of Tiamat walking around trolling gangers and the Protectorate alike was just too much for him.
"I can't deal with this," he muttered. He got up and swiped his ID at a certain cabinet, which beeped before the light on it turned from red to green. From the cabinet, he took a shot glass, and a bottle labeled "307 Ale". There was a red line on the glass. He started pouring the fluid within the glass, only filling halfway to the mark before stopping. Putting the bottle back, he sat and looked at his glass before knocking it back in its entirety.
"Now, Miss Militia, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep this off."
- - - - - - - - - -
It had been a long night. Every member of the Protectorate was present. Half of them had just finished cleaning up the crime scene where Panacea had been shot, the others had been called in.
Assault looked haggard, his normal grin gone. Armsmaster had just gotten done with a mission briefing that was essentially a council of war. The Merchants would cease to exist inside of 48 hours if he could get approval. Given that every remaining parahuman in town had essentially said: "We'll help!"…
It was going to be a bloodbath.
Ethan and Karen were sharing quarters on the Rig, waiting for the dawn to come. He stared at the ceiling while his wife lay next to him, exhaustion finally claiming her. If it was time for him to go, that was fine with him, but he'd be laughing at Death all the way down, and he would take as many with him as he could.
Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. He'd had things to live for, now. With that, he closed his eyes to catch a few hours of sleep.
- - - - - - - - - -
Breakfast in the cafeteria had been interrupted by a PRT trooper rushing in and switching the channel on the monitor to showing the feed from the PRT building. Trainwreck was there, in his hulking suit of steampunk armor, and wrapped in a cocoon of rope was Skidmark. There was a sigh of relief from all assembled, before the low murmur of conversation started, wondering what it all meant.
Skidmark, for his part, looked like he'd been thrown into a manhole cover several times, and someone had gotten tired of his incessant profanity because they had shoved a ball gag in his mouth.
Assault wondered if Trainwreck had an attack of common sense during the night, realizing what was going to be dropping on them later tonight.
- - - - - - - - - -
Thursday, 24 February 2011
Assault was feeling pretty good.
The matter with Panacea had sorted itself out, and the Merchants were effectively done. Mush was currently under arrest, Squealer was in rehab and she was wanting to absolutely kill Skidmark, and Trainwreck was back up in the train yards, actually working to help clean up some of the garbage there.
He was enjoying some donuts from Donut Joe's and a cup of really good coffee, thinking that all was right with the world.
The Endbringer sirens began blaring, and the recall for all Protectorate members sounded from his phone. From the tone of the siren, the attack was not happening here.
"Once more into the breach," he muttered, as he drained his coffee and tossed the cup into a trash bin.
