Brockton Bay
"'Tis a fine day to be out for a stroll," Clockblocker stated as he stood near his patrol partner, Naurelin, while she engaged in PR related activities. "The sun is shining, the sky only has happy little clouds, the breeze is gentle and the conversation is enlightening!"
"Is he always like this?" the woman whom Naurelin was signing a photograph for asked.
"No, he's usually much quieter," Naurelin replied. "He's just having a good day today. It won't be too long before the reality of being the one in charge settles in and he'll return to normal."
"Naurelin," the woman said, "this is Brockton Bay, normal stays well clear of the place."
The dragongirl finished signing the picture. "All too true," she agreed. "And Clockblocker fits right in. Here you go." With that, she handed over the picture and went back to the patrol.
"OK, fearless leader, what next?"
"Let's see…" Clock thought for a bit. "We've done this, that, and several other things," he said, the grin evident in his voice. "So, that leaves the last bit of the patrol through the Lord's Street Market."
"Been a while since I've walked through there," Naurelin noted. "Always something interesting to find…" Whatever she was saying trailed off as she stopped, distracted. "Or find us. Did you feel that?"
"Something that felt like a millipede whose feet were dipped in capsaicin and then ran up and down my spine, on the inside?"
"I wouldn't have put it quite so graphically," Naurelin answered, "but yes, something like that. They're close."
It was at that moment an odd trio walked by. Samira, she of the nearly alabaster skin, crystalline hair, generous bustline, and crystalline wings was familiar to both of the teenaged heroes. She was walking next to a pair who were somewhat less well known to them.
They'd heard of Paige McAbee, seen the music and concert videos, and Naurelin had recently met her while on patrol. Instead of her usual bright colors, she was dressed in more muted fashions. The feathers in her hair were showing clearly, though, and the choker she wore had a small PRT-approved device which added enough distortion into her voice to negate her Power's effects on people.
Their companion was not familiar to them. Auburn hair fell to her shoulders. Amber eyes twinkled with merriment as she'd laughed at something Paige had said. Her teeth were more like Naurelin's fearsome dentition, the teeth of a carnivore. Her arms from the elbows down resembled the legs of a bird, with the talons being replaced by hands equipped with somewhat sharper than normal fingernails. From her bare back – she was wearing a halter top – sprouted a pair of feathered wings. Whereas Samira's wings were alien and yet ephemeral, the mystery woman's were those belonging to an upscaled hawk or falcon. And her legs were replaced with those of a similar bird, complete with the requisite talons that could clearly inflict some serious harm.
"Paige, Helen," Samira said, catching her companions' attention, "I need to talk to these two for a moment, 'kay?" She took a couple of steps over towards the Wards.
"Since I'm on bodyguarding duty," she explained, "I'll be brief. Helen's a harpy, not a Cape. She's a long time friend of Paige, and one of her backup singers. And you'll find whomever you're looking for at the PRT building." With that, she rejoined her companions, and they faded into the crowd, many of whom were watching the singer but not getting too close because of Samira and Helen.
"Well, that takes the mystery out of things," Clockblocker quipped.
"Yeah, but at least we know where we can go looking for our answers," Naurelin replied.
"That's not always a good thing, you know," her patrol partner and team leader responded. "Sometimes you can know too much."
"Such as the fact we were looking for someone?"
"Yeah. Didn't know. Didn't need to know."
- - - - - - - - - -
"So that was Brockton Bay's resident dragon in crowd-safe size," Helen commented. She'd been walking around in her natural form, enjoying the chance to feel the wind in her feathers and sun on her back.
"Yep, and she finally got to see your feathers. I think the only reason you're getting away with it is because of me," Samira admitted. "After all, who I was is pretty much an open secret." She took a couple of licks off her double fudge ripple and caramel cone. "People are still nervous about li'l ol' me."
Paige nodded. "For good reason. Still, for some reason, I trust you. Even though just having feathers and an awesome singing voice almost got me thrown into the Birdcage."
"Kinda glad that didn't happen," Helen added. "It's not easy to find a roommate who can hack the rent of where we were living at the time."
Paige gave a small snort. "So, is that all I am to you? Half a rent payment?"
"Well, I'm not your roomie because of your cooking skills," Helen said, taking a verbal jab at Paige.
There was a moment of silence before they both broke down laughing. Samira looked at both of them, her expression showing no small amount of confusion.
"I thought you were miss 'knows all, sees all'," Paige said.
"Sure, when I'm all big and naked and sprouting a hundred asymmetrical wings," Samira replied, "You have no idea what it's like to be able to turn my precognition
off. To be able to
not see the possible futures of millions every single minute…"
Samira's meandering rant faded into silence as something else got her attention. There was a bit of commotion ahead of them as something happened. "We'd best be getting you back to the Palanquin," she finally said after a minute. "Looks like someone was about to cause you some trouble."
"That's the one thing I
don't understand," Paige said. "Why would anyone want to cause me trouble?" She shook her head as if to clear it. "Yes, I did something wrong, and I suffered the consequences for it."
"Paige, for someone as smart as you are, you can be awfully naive sometimes," Helen said. "You're a Master. People don't like that. Despite the fact that a judge found you guilty of a much less serious charge. You can, on a whim, take away someone's free will, which scares them."
Samira grumbled a bit. "They don't know shit."
At Helen's raised eyebrow, Samira continued. "They don't know what it's like having nearly all your free will ripped from you, and being forced to kill and destroy people, cities and even abstract things like hope. For
years. A momentary compulsion that can be thought around is nothing compared to that."
Helen looked thoughtful. "It almost sounds like this world was run by someone who had a bender of too many bad superhero and eldritch horror films. Then got put on a serious load of the wrong medication."
Paige laughed out loud. "That makes too much sense, really."
Helen looked over at Samira, who had gone from the verge of tears to a slight smile. "Are you feeling better, with that off your chest?"
"A bit, yes. Thank you for that," Samira shrugged her wings. "My therapists say I'm making progress, but I might not ever work completely through things."
"If you ever get some time off," Helen said, "come and pay us a visit."
"'Us' as in the two of you or 'us' as in harpies?"
Helen shrugged. "Either. My aunt Erato would love to talk to you."
- - - - - - - - - -
"So why am I here again?" Taylor found herself asking the current leader of the Power testing crew.
"We need someone who is definitely fireproof for the next few tests," the man, a tall, skinny Hispanic with wild hair replied. "Also, you are one of the few who can definitively test for anything dragon related. Thus, your presence here.
"Our subject is a male adolescent, age sixteen. Unremarkable physical development, but in good physical condition. Above average intelligence. He admits to being responsible for the fire incident two days ago." He fiddled with his tablet and let Taylor see the anonymized file.
Taylor's heart sank when she saw the image, easily recognizing Greg Veder. "He's not applying for Wards membership, is he?"
Dr. Sanchez noted her reaction. "Actually, no," he replied as Taylor handed the tablet back to him. "His father isn't sold on the idea, and the subject, while not against it, isn't quite for it either. He was going on about some shadow conspiracy running everything, and hampering the ability of the PRT and Protectorate to actually do their jobs." He took a look at Taylor and grinned. "He's not a Parahuman, so no Thinker powers. Just into conspiracies."
"Let's get this over with," Taylor grumbled. With that, she walked to the door of the testing chamber.
Upon entry she could see various testing material samples had been melted or burned. A bucket of
water was burning merrily in one corner of the room. Not the bucket, but the water itself. She'd seen stranger things, but that was still kinda out there.
Greg Veder was talking with the testing assistant off to one side of the room. He was dressed in the usual outfit of new Triggers undergoing testing – non-descript jeans, t-shirt, shoes, and a domino mask. The discussion with the hulking assistant in the fire proximity suit was surprisingly intelligent.
Then without warning, a small, red dragon appeared. Or rather, the image of a small red dragon appeared, as it was somewhat transparent and floating in midair.
"Well, well, well," it said.
"What have we got here? One of Tenneiss' brood?"
"Garyx, please," Greg said after being startled. "Try not to irritate the local heroes."
"And I have no idea what you're talking about," Naurelin replied. "I think your appearance would prove that there are arcane shenanigans going on."
Garyx looked closely at Naurelin, taking in the dragongirl, his eyes settling on the ring on her left hand.
"You mean draconic shenanigans," Garyx mentioned smugly,
"which are arguably the best kind. Given that you bear my sister's ring, you should probably ask her about me."
"I'll be sure to do that," Naurelin said. "So, let's get on with this, OK?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Somewhere out in the Midwest, there lived a woman and her family.
Everyone tended to stay away from them, and vice versa. They moved around through Missouri, staying out of sight and sometimes engaging in acts of radio piracy, and sending members out for the occasional kidnapping, murder, and other assorted felonies.
And, if people knew what they got up to behind closed doors…
They'd start with "Purify it with
ALL THE FIRE!" and escalate from there, finishing with salting the earth afterwards for good measure.
In short, they were very bad neighbors. Case in point…
"Now be a good boy," the woman said, "and go take a look at Brockton Bay. I'd like to know more about this fake Simurgh and that dragon."
"Yes, Mama," the young man nodded. "May I take some help?"
'Mama' considered the question. "Hmm, perhaps some of the normies. I'd like to keep this quiet. Bastard Son's problem was that he never learned how not to be seen."
"Of course, Mama," Elijah replied. "I'd best get moving, then."
Mama Mathers smiled. "Yer a good boy."
