Shining Example (WORM ORIGIN QUEST)

[Supermushu]

IT BEGINS (produced in collaboration with @IKnowNothing)

Firefly

Prologue: Radiant 0.x


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■


♦ Topic: The Sky is falling!

In: Boards ► Cape News ► Sentinels ► Atlas

►Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Jul 14th 1987:

It seems that it falls to me to once again be the bearer of bad news.


As you may have heard, yesterday the battle against the villain Mirror Master was recently concluded, with his capture by the Sentinels after their showdown over Brockton Bay. While the damage is still being surveyed, my sources have confirmed one casualty among the Sentinel capes; Atlas.


In order to buy time for Hero to analyse and devise countermeasures for the villains portal technology, Atlas and Alexandria directly engaged Mirror Master and his horde of summoned abominations, as shown in this video here, where Atlas was caught in the backlash of the portal's destruction after failing to get clear in time. As of today, his location is still unknown.


While the protectorate has yet to release a formal statement on yesterdays events, I would like to pre-empt them by expressing my deepest sympathies for all of the involved parties.


Atlas was an inspiration to us all.



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►BadSamurai (Verified Bad Boy) (Bushido Enthusiast)

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:

Shit dude.... your telling me hes really gone?


►Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:

While his exact status has not been determined, I suspect that Mirror Master's portals worked by opening 'rifts' into a series of of parallel worlds- you can catch glimpses of them in the video- and given his proximity during their unstable collapse, he was either sucked into one of them or torn apart. I'd love to believe that he'll be fine, but I just can't see it happening.


►Atlas Shrugged

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:

WOW. LOOK AT THIS GUY.


Not even a day, and he's writing off motherf****ing ATLAS. Come on! We all know that he'll show up at the next major crisis, even if he needs to tear spacetime a new one like some sort of interdimensional Kool-Aid man. The guy's faced Endbringers on even ground, and you think that a portal will stop him? Give me a break


►Doc Brown-ish (SCIENCE!) (Wannabe Tinker)

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:

Yeah, I gotta agree with @ Atlas Shrugged here. Atlas is WAY too badass to die like that. Besides, they caught Mirror Master, right? Five Bucks says that Hero reverse engineers some kinda gizmo to beam him back within a week. They probably delayed the announcement so that they can have the full team together for the victory party


►Under_The _Radar

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:

All Im gonna say is... if Atlas is really gone... God help that Mirror guy when Alexandira gets her hands on him


►Chilldrizzle (Verified Grammar..... Guy)

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:

Firstly @Under_The _Radar, It's Alexandria not Alexandira


Secondly... he makes a good point. There is no way that the Sentinels won't call in every favour they have if there is even a one percent chance that he's not dead. Given how much Atlas and Alexandria have done for the PRT and Protectorate both... how much do you think they will invest into retrieving him?


►Envoy of Acedia

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:

Look guys, @ Bagrat has the right of it. Even if he survived the explosion bits of him are probably scattered across a million different places (or times... or worlds...) The point is that it would take way more effort to find him than the PRT could spare, and the guy himself wouldn't appreciate a massive manhunt when that same effort could be used to save lives.


IMHO, the best way to honour the guy is to give up on wild theories and focus on helping people NOW. And if he does return? I'll be the first to throw a wild party in celebration.


►Alexandria (Member of the Founding Five) (Iron Hard Abs) (Cape Wife)

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:


I am posting on this forum to announce that tomorrow's press conference has been cancelled in order to more fully concentrate on outstanding Issues.


Hero has confirmed that the self-styled 'Mirror Master' was using inter-dimensional portals to summon his creatures, and work has begun on reverse-engineering what samples of technology remain. Thinker review of the battle has confirmed that Atlas was able to shield himself before the detonation, with a significant probability of survival despite his dimensional displacement. Should anyone possess any information that they think would aid in his retrieval, I urge you to submit it using the contact details provided here


Eidolon will be assuming command of the Sentinels in the abscence of Atlas.


I thank you for your support in this trying time.


►Hero (Member of the Founding Five) (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) (Moderator)

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:


As a follow-up to the above post, I would like to ask that everyone be patient- what has happened is a tragedy of the highest order and it will take some time to fully recover. While I cannot provide an exact date, there WILL be a press conference forthcoming that will provide details on the Protectorate (and PRT) response to recent events. I would also ask that you hold your questions and comments until then so as not to add to anyone's distress. Until next time!



►ArchmageEin

Replied On Jul 14th 2018:

Alexandria is here!


*Reads post*


Aaaand she sounds like a robot parodying 'emotionless robot' stereotypes. Perhaps a therapist is in order? Yamada or Everett seem like the best choices in this case.


►Envoy of Acedia

Replied On Jul 14th 1987:

Her husband could have DIED; don't you understand that?



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(Showing page 11 of 13)



►Deadman

Replied On Jul 19th 1987:

@ Erinyes Really? THATS what you're taking away from my post? *Sighs* All right, I'll try again.


Its not that I hate Eidolon, but I think that he's a poor fit for a leadership position. He's powerful (It's easier to list what he CAN'T do) but he always struck me as kinda.... remote. You know what I mean? He expects everyone to perform at the same level he does without thinking about just how much effort is required to keep up with his hax, then gets pissy when they don't. And for those of you that cry out: 'But he has great teamwork with the Founders!', it strikes me that he only does that because they were able to *somehow* earn a measure of his respect (and have powers nearly as hax as his own). I doubt that he'll have a high opinion of anyone in the team other than MAYBE Narwhal, so its a waste of time trying to get them to work together.


Chevalier is a muuuuch better pick IMO, 'cause he actually cares (and, you know, was trained 1 on 1 by Atlas). The team needs a LEADER, not another Nuke.


►Warrior's Creed (TACTICAL GENIUS)

Replied On Jul 20th 1987:

I must state my Agreement with Deadman- placing Eidolon as head of the Sentinels is a massive waste of resources. Quite apart from all of the points above, his mere presence renders their contributions redundant, since there is nothing they can do he can't do at least as well.


Personally, if the PRT was so afraid of an upsurge in Villain activity, I would deploy Eidolon on his own, perhaps teamed with a thinker like Silver Crusader as a spotter to maximise his combat ability, to strike at any major spike in enemy action, whilst splitting the remainder of the sentinels into squads and distributing them across the country to shore up the protectorate prescence in potential flashpoint areas, to delay villains and minimise damage until Eidolon arrives. And finally, I'd order all PRT and Protectorate resources to be a bit more ruthless in their handling of superpowered criminals- that is to say, they should take a leaf out of Atlas' book and give any target one chance to surrender, after which all bets are off. If there is one things villains love to exploit, it is the semblance of weakness.


►Dawgsmiles (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jul 20th 1987:

I... have no words. Like, It seems like a decent plan at first, but DAMN that's cold. You'd break up the Sentinels immediately after their leader vanished, Birdcage people left and right (Don't think I can't read between the lines), and effectively send Eidolon on a Government-sponsored Murder Spree. Are you really that thick or do you just not care about the consequences of what you are proposing? Leaving aside the morality, that kind of action would provoke all out war, and it'd only be a matter of time before Symphony 2.0 would show up out of spite. Worse, Eidolon can only be in one place at a time, and without Atlas his potential for collateral damage is worryingly high. All you'd end up doing is forcing a mass slaughter of the very people you ostensibly want to save. What the fuck man?


►Chevalier (Verified Sentinel) (True Knight Aspirant)

Replied On Jul 20th 1987:

As interesting as the last few pages of discussion have been, I would like to remind this thread that an official announcement has yet to be made on the subject of our vacant leadership position. Rest assured that any such choice will be made only after a thorough discussion of its merits and drawbacks.


End of Page. 1 ... 9, 10, 11, 12, 13



(Showing page 13 of 13)




►Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Jul 22nd 1987:

So, I heard recently that Hero made some kind of breakthrough on MM's tech, and that Alexandria was given permission by the Chief Director to mount a rescue mission. It's all rumour right now, but given my previous (and regretted) pessimism I thought I'd deliver some good news for a change


►Envoy of Acedia

Replied On Jul 22nd 1987:

It seems I was mistaken. I will never be happier about such an event in my life


►Feychick

Replied On Jul 22nd 1987:

ATLAS IS COMING BACK BABY! FUCK YEAH!


►Chilldrizzle (Verified Grammar..... Guy)

Replied On Jul 22nd 1987:

Hold your horses, it's only a rumour..... albiet a very welcome one. With that said, I too hope for a successful recovery of Atlas


►BadSamurai (Verified Bad Boy) (Bushido Enthusiast)

Replied On Jul 22nd 1987:

Too tru Bro... but for now, all we can do is w8.



End of Page. 1 ... 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

 

[Supermushu]

Radiant 1.1


Alex Everett had a secret.

It was, in the grand scheme of things, not a large one; it would topple no Empires, break no bonds- and yet, it was one that he had held close to his heart for years, never speaking of it even to his closest friends and family.

Alex Everett hated waking up.

He hated it because, every time he found himself swimming up from the depths of unconsciousness he couldn't help but feel a stab of atavistic dread- that this would be the time he awoke to the face of a smiling nurse or doctor, proclaiming the success of his most recent treatment and expecting a joyous reaction to the news that his whole life was once more ahead of him.

Of course, under normal circumstances this irrational fear would quickly be dispelled- he would feel Rebecca in bed next to him, see the wooden panelling of his office or notice one of a myriad of details he could use to banish the horrible falling feeling he was forced to endure at the boundary of wakefulness. Not this time, however.

The first clue was when that feeling refused to go away. The second, and perhaps more obvious piece of evidence, was when he snapped to full attention and noticed three things:

1. The wind was whipping through his hair on its own, without the fan being on

2. His cape, not the blankets, was the reason for the shadow on his face

3. Combined with his first observation and that feeling, it seemed that he was falling out of the sky.

Clearly, Alexander Everett was out of his depth here.

As such, Atlas reached out with his power; and the waves responded. Hundreds of them rushed in- from both close and distant positions- cocooning him in a protective barrier even as his previous freefall slowed to a controlled descent, and eventually a hover. As he did so, he also recalled the circumstances of his arrival.

The last thing he remembered was pushing Rebecca out of range as Mirror Master overloaded his portals… so the logical conclusion was that he had been displaced to his current, unknown location. The thought made his heart clench; he felt none of the disturbances that characterised Mirror Master's portals, which meant that he was stranded in an unknown location with no way home. Worse, it had been right after Rebecca had told him….

As if summoned by the thought, a voice, warm and commanding and sounding so much like her echoed through his mind.

'Think, Atlas- remember your training. Objectives, Resources, Obstacles.'

Well then. A faint smile curled his lips as he gathered his bearings- 'even now, she continues to save me' – but the point was well made. His mind spurred to action, Atlas attempted to analyse his situation. His Objective was obvious- return home, by any means necessary.

'Okay then' he thought. 'What is my current status?'. A quick once-over showed him that he seemed to have gotten through the detonation unharmed, barring some minor damage to his costume from the earlier battle, and his earlier flight showed that his powers were in no way diminished. All of the tinkertech built into his suit and mask seemed fully operational, and a quick flex of his power confirmed that his… Proton Balls… (he supressed a grimace at the memory of Charles laughing uproariously when the PR team had given him that name) had made it through intact as well. With that said, an insistent chiming in his ears reminded him that all of it also seemed to have lost its connection to Charles' Tac-Net ('Da, Comrade' exclaimed Charles in a ludicrously fake Soviet accent 'Charles' Command and Co-ordination Protocols will ensure the stability of your Union for a thousand years!'). Not entirely unexpected, but certainly worrying, given that its range extended both worldwide and into quite a few of Cauldron's more exotic locations, and throwing any hope of an easy rescue right out of the window.

Speaking of which- obstacles. Yet another quick sweep of the area around him revealed no decaying portal or spacetime tear -a faint hope given its earlier absence- so he finally turned his gaze to the city below him, hoping beyond hope he would spot a familiar landmark or location.

The results were not very encouraging.

It took only a few seconds to identify the sprawl below him as Brockton Bay- and only a second or so more to verify that it was not the Brockton he was familiar with; for one, there was a massive wasteland of rusted metal next to the Boardwalk where a small but well-fortified port should have been. For another, there appeared to be a massive blue dome (A phased ion shield, declared Charles, standing proudly next to his prototype) over the location of the old oil rig in the bay. The central and downtown zones of city itself seemed similar, but there was a pall of… tiredness that hung over the area that he could have never associated with the city he knew.

It said much about the absurdity of the situation that his first thought was a numb 'Well, I finally have my first Obstacle'.

Even so, he could now narrow down his options. Given the obvious similarities in overall landscape and layout, his location had not been changed leaving two possible conclusions: either he had been displaced in time, or forced into an alternate dimension.

The concept of other worlds was not a new one to him- Cauldron had access to many uninhabited worlds as training zones, after all- but it was the first time he had seen one that was inhabited, and seeming so close to the state of his own at that. On the one hand, this boded well. Such an obviously inhabited world meant that there were more opportunities to find aid, but it could also come with many more obstacles. He needed information, and he needed it fast.

His first thought was to seek out PRT headquarters for information (and the force-field over that oil rig gave him a clear lead as to its location) but caution and Rebecca's training made him pause ('You can't always charge in like a fool' she chided him, but the effect was ruined by the warm smile on her face-) and take a moment to compose himself. He was making far too many assumptions.

For all he knew, the PRT was corrupt in this (world? Timeline?) or was incredibly discriminatory against parahumans. Even in his world, Rebecca had needed to ride herd over the agency to prevent discrimination for years until the idea of professional heroes was accepted. Indeed, he had no proof that capes existed in this world at all, since they were by definition restricted to a very limited set of worlds by the presence of Agents and their Progenitors. At best, he would be an unknown- and clearly dangerous- parahuman with an uncertain affiliation. At worst, he could be the cause of an international catastrophe. Even the presence of the field itself was no clue; it could be that this world humanity was capable of such feats without Tinkers.

As such, he required another source of information. A library would be an excellent start, but for those he would need his civilian attire….. which he had left in PRT headquarters before the battle. While he had a set of ID cards- both hero and civilian – in a pocket of his costume (yet another thing to thank Rebecca for) walking into a Library as he was would result in him being reported in moments. Even so, staying put would gain him nothing: every extra minute he spent up there was increasing the chance that he would be spotted, one way or another. At least once he was on the ground he would have a better chance at concealment than suspended in the sky in his gleaming golden armour. Making a mental note to have Charles add a stealth mode to his costume, Atlas gathered his waves and dove.



Over the years, Atlas had picked up quite a few tricks for his powers. Some, he had developed in order to curb his originally horrific potential for collateral damage. Others had been suggested to him by Rebecca or Manton, and the time spent developing them ranked among the fondest of his memories. His 'invisibility' was one of these, despite the rarity of its use (he never was cut out for covert operations, in both capability and temperament ). The physics of it flew over his head, but the general gist was that he could bend light rays around him with his waves, preventing them from touching him and thus allowing him to seemingly vanish into thin air. It wasn't perfect, of course- the act of bending light produced faint distortions like a heat haze around his position – but it would fool someone who wasn't looking closely.

Right now, drifting slowly along the Boardwalk, that was all he needed.

The boardwalk itself had changed surprisingly little from what he remembered from the one he had walked down with Rebecca not a week before; the ludicrously overpriced stores with their flashy displays lined the road, and most of the remaining space was packed full of a ramshackle collection of stalls, selling both food and a variety of other trinkets. He was tempted to look closer at the obvious 'hero brand' merchandise (so this universe did in fact have capes), but eventually judged it to be not worth the risk. Idly, he wondered what his PR team would make of his current situation. 'Breakdown of Law and Order as Hero Atlas steals newspapers from bins' seemed about right given their… enthusiasm for sensationalist stories. Honestly, Rebecca's well-practised Death-Glare as the only reason he could think of for them to have any privacy at all.

As much as he would have loved to just reminisce, however, he also had a mission to accomplish, the banality of it notwithstanding. It was a moment's work to find a binned newspaper, but the execution was a fair bit harder than he anticipated (who knew how much effort it would take to mimic the wind with his waves?) but he eventually managed to snare one and quickly removed himself to a nearby, run down alleyway to peruse it.

He had thought that he was prepared for anything when he opened it. Alien invasions, AI rebellions- the works.

Somehow, the small set of letters and numbers printed on the top of the front page floored him all the same:

29th March, 2011.

(A/N: here we go! Hopefully I have kept Alex true to his characterisation in the quest and given him a solid thought process- but what the hell. We all know he'll throw it all away the second he sees someone in danger *hint hint*)

 

[Supermushu]

I'm Alive! So, without further ado, and with the advice of @IKnowNothing - senpai.......

Radiant 1.2

Alex liked to think of himself as a humble person. He'd never succumbed to the lure of fame and fortune, treating his work like a game or deliberately grandstanding like some of the other capes he'd worked with. Sure, he'd done his fair share of PR work (and oh boy, did Jameson make him work) but he'd always kept a clear head, focused on his true goals and got on with delivering aid to a world that sorely needed it.


But if there was one complement he was willing to pay himself, one boast he would never hesitate to make? It was that he'd seen some shit. Both in his career as a Hero and a Parahuman psychologist, he'd been exposed to both the best and worst the world had to offer- from the glittering spires of 'the Leaky Cauldron' (as their main base had been dubbed by popular vote) to the oceans of blood and wreckage left in the wake of Leviathan's attacks on Kyushu and New York. But this? This reached beyond mere horror and into some kind of 'numb enlightenment' (and didn't those words make his inner psychologist recoil in horror).


'So its not just dimensions. I'm over a decade in the future as well'. Intellectually, he knew that this was likely not as big of a deal as he thought it was -any tech that could breach dimensions would by nature have to factor in both temporal and spatial components after all- but it made the truth of his separation form everyone he knew all too rea and on his own he had no way to get back and thanks to the time travel any portal Hero made would be years ago and….. and…..


Distantly, he realised that he was hyperventilating.


Okay, Alright, he could deal with this. He could. He could. Because if he couldn't, how many people were suffering nearby without his help? The thought allowed him to claw together some semblance of control over his thoughts. Right now, he had no means of affecting the big picture, but he could still make a difference. He could still save people.


It was a stupid idea. Sure, solve your problems with violence. How pathetic.


It was a security risk. Even if you help someone, you risk exposing yourself to god knows who in unknown territory, risking people in the future


It was the right thing to do. …why do I even bother?


Within seconds, the only thing left in the alley was a fluttering broadsheet, twirling in the wake of a fast-moving object.

-------------

Two hours, five muggings, three thefts and an attempted rape later, Alex found himself in front of the Brockton central library, having successfully manged to work through his initial freak out – and put together a shabby but complete civilian outfit (The sound of Jameson's screeched condemnations and the shocked gasps of the PR team somehow followed him even here). He gave a polite nod to the young woman at the desk, but otherwise beelined for one of the unoccupied computers. Steeling himself, he started up the browser and began to type- this time, he would be ready for whatever he learned.

As it turned out, he ran out of emotional reactions long before he finished reading (and, of course, the library closed before he had done more than scratch the surface). He had, however, come to two inescapable conclusions:

1) This world (Earth-Bet, as they called it) had gone to shit in spectacular fashion

2) The reason it had done so was quickly identified by him as the main point of divergence: somehow, Cauldron had never been formed. Thanks to that, none of the 'Triumvirate' (and even the team names seemed worse here!) had ever truly banded together (he could only assume that he himself either died or didn't exist). From there, the web of tragedies only spread. Hero dead, the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Endbringers…


He had never been much of a student of history, always dreaming about the future, but Rebecca had shared a lot of stories about the early days of the organisation- how Doctor Mother had started out with nothing but the corpse of a Progenitor and a half-baked scheme to sell power vials and build an army to fight Scion, how Contessa and Manton had refined the plan into an initiative to save the worlds from the threat of the Progenitors, how Rebecca and the other Founders had caused Cauldron to branch out and try to do more than merely produce powerful capes.


And of course, the Protectorate and Sentinel teams, both of which she never ceased to remind him were of his own design…..


He quickly brushed the thought aside before it overwhelmed him. Right now it was an open wound, and one far too dangerous to poke with his current, precarious mental state. Instead, he turned his attention to what he had managed to retrieve from the library during the few hours he had been there. He'd have to return later, but he had enough to at least start on a plan of action


With this new information he could one more narrow down his goals; his best bet was to reunite the various members of Cauldron and attempt to get in contact with his native Earth, then plan for a long, long campaign against what seemed to be a mass incursion. Since a Scion existed on this earth, there could be more Progenitor pairs, dividing up parallel worlds into clusters to be exploited even now… but he was getting ahead of himself. The fact that Alexandria and the others existed here more or less guaranteed that Doctor Mother and her vials were also extant, but without the other members of Cauldron to reign her in there was a decent chance that she was proliferating vials without regard for the consequences, possibly helped along by Fortuna.


The thought made him pause. Any attempt to interfere with her plans would likely be seen as a threat (if his Doctor could be a stuck up bitch, then he'd hate to see how this bizarro version fared) and with Fortuna in play he had no easy way of compelling her to change. Better by far to trace her via his fellow Founders; Rebecca would never be so unprepared as to not keep tabs on a mysterious vial lady, after all.


Right then, his goal was set, his Path unfolding. Atlas didn't percieve himself as much of a planner usually, but that was fine: he had the world's greatest Thinker's advice to rely on, after all.



'Step one: gain the attention of the Protectorate…..'

------------


For Sophia Hess, anger was an old friend. Once, perhaps, she had been scared of it- but that was a long time ago. Before she got her powers; before she realised how the world really worked. Now, however, she was different. She was better. Her anger was her weapon now, her armor, the source of her strength. It gave her purpose and focused her mind. It was there, always, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for her call.


Right now, Sophia barely remembered a time that she wanted it more. Now all she needed was someone to share it with. Which was why she was currently on an 'unofficial patrol' to rid the city of at least a portion of its filth.


Internally snarling as no targets immediately presented themselves, Sophia launched herself onto the next rooftop. With no Merchants to be seen, she had crossed over into border territory near Downtown, the space where the Empire and the Merchants often clashed. The Empire had been getting bold recently in their ventures into Merchant territory, what with the Merchants themselves pussying out, refusing to fight cape to cape.


Given her excellent observational skills- and the abundance of crime in this shitstain of a city- it wasn't long until she spotted some scum out on the streets, swaggering around like they owned the place. A quick once-over revealed gang tats and shaved heads: all she needed for verification. If she was willing to give the E88 one thing, it was that their thugs were always recognisable- and always deserving of the fate they would receive at her hands. Bursting out of the darkness, she had launched an attack on the Empire fucks probably on their way to kill some black guy just for existing, the blunt end of a crossbow bolt striking one's shoulder hard enough that she heard the crack from where she hid. If that wasn't enough, his anguished screams told her all she needed to hear.


With their leader writhing on the floor and others disoriented and searching for her, she had the time to launch two more bolts, using her shadow state to affect them long enough to pierce through the chimney she was hiding behind. With two more down, all she had to do was take down the last one.


Already he was panicking, tugging the arms of his fellow dirtbags as though that would do anything, making pathetic little whimpering noises as he did so. It made her feel positively sick.


The blond Empire grunt almost seemed to be pissing himself, still shuffling around awkwardly with no weapon in hand, unlike his fellow Neo-Nazis moaning on the ground. His gaze flicked nervously around multiple times, scanning the dark streets around him, before dropping back to the other gang members at his feet. As Sophia prowled closer he continued to vacillate. It seemed that she could take her time with this one


'Fucking pathetic', she scoffed mentally. This was one of the feared gangmates of the E88? They were being as bad as Hebert. And right now, there was no school to force her to pull her punches.


Her bolt flew true, slamming into the blonde's open face with a delightful crack and a spray of blood from his nose. The thug went down, cradling his face and Sophia smirked, only for him to roll with the impact and scramble to his feet. She went to shoot him again, but found that the cartridge was out. Fine then, she'd track him down later- she needed to finish dealing with the losers anyway


Jumping down from her position on the roof, she snatched up her bolts, delivering several sharp kicks to heads of the still-conscious gang members for good measure. to dissuade them from moving before darting in the direction of the last mook. As she rolled onyo the roof of a nearby building to begin the hunt, Sophia found herself smiling behind her mask. It was time to catch her prey.


Honestly, Sophia wished she could just be Shadow Stalker nonstop- Fuck Winslow, fuck the Wards, fuck going home; Just Shadow Stalker all the time. If it wasn't for the looming threat of juvie, she'd have ditched everyone and done her own thing a long time ago. Even now she was tempted to do it, if only to watch piggy have a heart attack while the other Wards gaped like fish. Especially Vista, the prissy bitch.


'Most powerful Shaker in the city', her ass. So what if Vista's power was a bit flashier than any of the other Wards? The scum of this city feared Shadow Stalker more than they did her or any of the others. The Wards were fucking kids compared to her, motherfucking babies for the PR teams to dress up, all to look pretty for the cameras. Hell, they were probably more scared of Shadow Stalker coming after them in the dead of night than they were Miss Militia, Triumph, Dauntless. Even Armsmaster couldn't send the trash running like she could.


Not a single one of them had her rep! Even the PR team knew as much. Flashier powers or not, she was a special type of cape in Brockton Bay. The one that might just decide to break your arms rather than cuff you if you pushed her too hard. That was what she was and the PR team knew how to sell that and make the city appreciate her regardless. Whatever they did, Sophia didn't care. She was threatening enough without the voice changer, scary enough without the soulless black eyes her mask came with and perfectly stealthy without the specially darkened costume that blended perfectly into the shadows. While that all helped, none of that could make up for the fact that she had the right attitude, a killer instinct that no one else in the Protectorate or the Wards could match. The same anger that she used to fuel herself even now.


Sophia vaulted over a roof vent, shifting into shadow form and allowing the air from the opening to give her the airtime she needed to make it to the other roof without needing to jump. A few seconds later, she landed several dozen feet away, her cape still fluttering with the wind as she shifted back to normal. She'd found her grunt- it seemed that he was being tended to by one of his hobo pals, dressed in a ratty outfit. Two for the price of one, then.


As she lined up her crossbow to kneecap the sun of a bitch that had run last time, Shadow stalker spared a moment to think about what his friend would do.


She hoped that he would run like the last guy had, draw out the hunt a little.


'It's good to be on top' was her last thought before she pulled the trigger.

----------------

By the time a cape actually showed up, Alex was beginning to feel rather annoyed. He'd read that Brockton was the 'cape capital' of North America, yet in over an hour of wandering he hadn't seen a single one. There'd been plenty of petty thugs in a variety of gaudy colours, but it seemed that the protectorate was not even attempting to launch regular patrols into the area. Just another indication of how far Earth Bet had fallen, he supposed.


Eventually, of course, his patience was rewarded- though not in the way he had intended. He was no stranger to the usage of… violent tactics (it was a sad necessity of his work that any villain he was called to deal with was usually beyond rehabilitation) but having a bruised and battered skinhead collapse in front of him after running down the street as if they were chased by a demon was a new one.


Hurrying over to the man, he turned him over for examination, ignoring his patients pained groaning. Some sort of heavy impact…. Knuckledusters? It seemed he was finally getting somewhere- if there was one common thread to the cases he had looked over, it was that where there was conflict, there would usually be a cape, especially in gang terr- DANGER


Instincts born of years of conflict cried out and he responded instantly, dropping into a roll and throwing out a group of waves above and behind him to intercept the incoming projectile (successfully, if he heard the faint noise as it impacted safely on the cobblestones). Rising to his feet and whirling around, he managed to finally get a good look at his assailant.


His first thought was: 'Jameson would eat her alive'. Clad in a padded bodysuit bedecked with urban camo patterns, the girl – and it was obvious from her height and proportions that she couldn't be older than a teenager – seemed to be a walking combination of every vigilante stereotype he had ever seen, complete with scowling mask and over-engineered crossbows. 'Definitely not a protectorate cape- have they failed so badly that vigilantism is the norm?'. Even so, he held out his arms in a nonthreatening position and prepared to talk; even if she wasn't one, she'd likely had contact with a professional hero at some point.


'I mean you no harm' he called out; or rather he would have, if she had not lunged at him before his mouth had finished opening.

--------------------

If Sophia had been angry before, now she was furious. First that skinhead had led her on a merry chase across Downtown despite her roof hopping, then he'd managed to link up with another of her miserable ilk, and then that same fucker had somehow noticed her ambush and rolled away from the shot in a manner that spoke of at least a bare minimum of professional training. The E88 wasn't known for the quality of its mooks, so he was either a higher level enforcer (unlikely, given the poor quality of his clothes) – or a cape, whose ambush she had just walked into.


As the man smoothly rolled to his feet in front of her, Sophia took a moment to look over her prey. Dressed in what had to be the single largest assortment of shitty clothes that she had ever seen (Emma would faint at the mere sight of this guy), with close cropped brown hair and a lean build. What struck her the most about him were his eyes, however- they were a clear, vibrant blue, and utterly without fear at her appearance. 'A new trigger then, high on his first taste of power and out to fuck up whoever he meets'.

Good.

She would enjoy putting fear back into those eyes.

Without further thought she dropped her crossbows and lunged at him; they would only be a hindrance in close combat, and she had seen the way her bolt had deflected off of what was seemingly thin air. 'Some sort of telekinetic, low power level' she concluded. Anything more powerful would have had the guy grabbing everything he could hold to face her, like Rune. Even as the thought passed her mind she was nearing his position, waiting for the instinctual flinch of all prey when they realised what was coming for them.


It never came.


Instead, the nutso moved into her attack, grabbing her extended arm and beginning to move behind her, either for a choke hold or some other finishing move.


Like hell she'd let some nobody beat her!


No sooner had her front foot touched the ground again when she whirled, converting her linear momentum into a spin that both pulled her enemy closer and built up her speed for a devastating back kick.


Or she would have, if he hadn't moved again, releasing her arms and shoving her away from him. She staggered to a stop and attempted to turn, but a sudden pressure slammed into place around her, weighing her down. Desperately, she shifted to escape- and then her entire world dissolved into pain.


When she came to, she was being shaken gently by the guy- no doubt so he could brag about his victory. Immediately she shifted again and leapt away, looking for her crossbow - If she could distract him with a bolt and escape, she could spin a story to Piggy about how he'd assaulted her – but before she could grasp it another surge of that fucking pressure swept her off her feet. Before she could make another move, she felt his hand begin to pull her up. She also heard him talk for the first time; "I don't want a fight: I just got my powers and wanted to sign up with the protectorate. Do you know where to find them?"


He sounded…. Sincere. Like, fucking sincere. Even though she knew that he'd almost brained her not a minute prior, she still caught herself beginning to respond. She still would have, if she hadn't gotten a second look at his face.


On closer inspection, he seemed handsome in a plain kind of way, but the standout features were once again his eyes. Despite his easy smile and warm voice, the eyes remained glued to her with a laser focus, almost as if they saw right through her. The eyes of a predator.


Sophia left before she had to face them again.


A/N: So as it turns out, being in university is not on its own a guaranteed ticket to get a job. Who knew?. Apologies for both this being kinda short and late, hopefully I'll improve with experience.

P.S. Poor Atlas- so close, and yet so far..... I see no way in which his conclusions could possibly turn out badly.

 

[Supermushu]

Radiant 1.3


As was rapidly becoming the norm for his experiences in Earth-bet, Alex found that even their PRT headquarters was a disappointment. Instead of a slab of tinkertech armour (that despite being of roughly equal height to its surroundings managed to loom over every building for blocks around) he was faced with…. A remarkably ordinary office building, the only noticeable feature of which was the PRT shield logo stencilled on the front.


And the windows.


Oh boy, there were windows.


Alex was no architect, but even he was pretty sure that the last thing a paramilitary headquarters needed was for one of its walls to be a massive structural weakness. Worse yet, it was hopelessly inferior to the ostentatious defences of 'The Rig'- which he had learned was the nickname of the offshore protectorate HQ. After all, what was the point of the PRT if it was so obviously outclassed by the very parahumans it was charged to police?


Passing through the sliding front doors (also glass) he walked up to pretty the young woman at the front desk, who wasn't quite quick enough to hide her flash of revulsion at the sight of his outfit (and it was a damn shame that he couldn't use his costume, but he needs to look like a rookie) before quickly schooling her features into reserved smile. "Welcome to the PRT ENE HQ sir, how may I help you today? Unfortunately, our tours for today are mostly booked, but will continue to run every two hour-"


"-I want to join the protectorate!"


His words made the receptionist do a double take in the middle of her (admittedly well-rehearsed) speech. Ordinarily, Alex wouldn't interrupt her in such a manner, but in this case he felt justified in his haste; the quicker he could join the sooner he could begin making a difference, a real one. He could always apologise later, anyway.


His musings were interrupted by a cough from the receptionist, whose hand was hovering over a high-tech looking handset on the desk (and, no doubt, a concealed button for the various internal defences). It seemed that she had just asked him a question. Giving her a guileless smile, and a 'what can you do?' shrug, he waited for her to repeat herself, which she did, though not before a long-suffering sigh.

"Sir, Dauntless and Armsmaster are currently on their way to pick you up, and will escort you to a spare room to complete the preliminary paperwork and set dates for any interviews or power testing sessions. I wished to ask if you had picked a name for us to use in the meantime?"


Names were important things, he knew. A good name was worth just as much as a good power if used correctly, and he had often used his own combined with his not-inconsiderable reputation to defuse situations that would otherwise have turned violent. He had toyed with the idea of re-branding, but ultimately couldn't bear to change the name that he had bore for most of his life.


But before he could make his heroic declaration, he was once again interrupted- this time by the doors opening on the far side of the room, letting the heroes in. And they were most definitely heroes. From the bold but simple aesthetic of Dauntless' spartan-themed ensemble to the moulded plates of Armsmaster's armour, there was no way either could have been misconstrued as anything else. Here then, were the people responsible for clawing Earth-Bet back from the brink in a way that he was sure he never could have managed in his early days. Given the almost palpable sense of security both men gave off, Alex could see how they had succeeded.


Dauntless was the first person to approach, followed shortly by Armsmaster. But instead of being welcoming or even cordial, they looked…. wary (As though they were afraid he would lash out at the slightest provocation). He would have been offended, but if the behaviour of that vigilante from yesterday proved anything, it was that everyone seemed significantly more high-strung than he was used to. Well then, he'd just have to be extra friendly to compensate.


"Hello there!" He called as they approached "I'm new to this place and wanted to be a hero, so I have come to join the protectorate!" he punctuated his statement with a wide smile. Dauntless paused, looking slightly confused, but Armsmaster didn't break his stride, stopping directly in front of him. He took a moment to look Alex over, and nodded, more to himself than anything else. "A good decision. What is your power, and what role are you specifically requesting?".


The question took him aback for a second – why would he join the protectorate to be anything other than a hero? – but he answered dutifully anyway. "In reverse order: I want to be a hero, and …uhhh… some form of gravity control? I'm not really that experienced at this". Dauntless nodded at his response, while Armsmaster merely tilted his head, and said nothing. He really wasn't the most personable guy, was he?


Dauntless was the next to speak, obviously trying to break the silence before it became awkward. "That's great and all, but we're jumping a bit ahead, aren't we? Let's start with introductions. I'm Dauntless and this is Armsmaster". He held out a hand for Alex to shake. "Is there any name you would prefer to have us use for now?"


For perhaps the first time since his arrival, Alex was struck – not by the differences, but by the similarities between his home and Earth-Bet. Despite the strife and suffering, the powerful gangs and dangerous vigilantes, there were still heroes. There were still people willing to risk it all to keep the world safe. As he raised his hand to Dauntless', his smile was the most natural it had been in days.


"Atlas. Call me Atlas".

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"What do you mean the name's already taken?"


It hadn't even been a full day since they picked him up, and already Shawn thought of the new guy as 'the Odd One'. Snap judgements like that were more Ethan's thing, but in this case Shawn felt pretty justified in his impressions.


The guy just didn't make any sense.


On the one hand, he seemed sincerely nice- in a way that very few people could claim to be, in Shawn's experience, and he combined that with an almost literal weight that appeared to underscore his every word and action. When he said or did something, you knew that he meant it. 'A master power?' If so, it was the shittiest effect he had ever seen, and a poor fit with the rest of his powerset. It reminded him more of Legend, that unconscious charisma earned via years of leadership.


Which fed into his second point: the guy was shifty as all hell. While the protectorate loved to advertise every new member, the truth was that not many volunteered to join of their own free will. In most cases, it was a trade for something- security, money, reputation. While volunteers did exist (both he and Armsmaster were examples of that, after all) for them to be that… enthusiastic, was almost unheard of. And it wasn't that the guy was a naïve idiot either – Shawn had been carefully observing 'Atlas' for the last couple hours as he filled out the forms for his application to the Protectorate, and he had shown an almost frightening insight into the practicalities of hero work; the kind that one only got from experience with the system… or working against it.


(and, of course, he had been even more confusing in his complete lack of knowledge about Brockton's cape scene beyond the very basics in a way that screamed 'new guy'. Was he trying to be a goddamn paradox on purpose?)


About the only expected result of his registration was how much it annoyed Armsmaster. While the Tinker had remained outwardly stoic, he had slowly grown more withdrawn and sullen as the new guy chattered on. Shawn knew this mood very well- he'd been exposed to it a lot during his own early days, when everyone was hyping him up as the next triumvirate member and his merchandise filled the storefronts. The man had never been anything less than professional, but his resentment had been clear as day to anyone who knew how to see beneath his robotic façade.


It wasn't helped by what they had heard about his power; whilst mild gravity control didn't seem that impressive, it was the sort of skill that could be leveraged into a formidable toolset with the correct training. No doubt Armsmaster was inwardly cursing about the unfairness of the world when he thought that he could use that strength to clear up the Bay by himself.


Still, it wouldn't have been the first time the protectorate had recruited someone with a less than stellar background, and the fact that he had volunteered alongside his obvious ignorance on cape matters meant that he couldn't have done that much before he came to register. What sort of established super-villain would throw it all away for a hero's thankless job?


Yeah. Shawn wouldn't say that he was ready to trust his life to such a suspicious person, but he seemed genuine and that was more than enough to warrant at least professional courtesy. And if the guy did come out as a former super-villain or something? Shawn would be there to lend a helping hand.


That was, after all, what a true hero did.

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Even though he knew that what he had done was merely step one in a very long road, Alex couldn't resist doing a little victory dance as he exited back through the front doors of the PRT building (and now that he thought about it, a glass front did give an impression of openness, unlike the distant Rig- and he had noticed that any area of importance was either underground or heavily restricted. Jonah would approve!) and stepped back into the wide streets of downtown Brockton Bay.


He allowed himself another moment of internal celebration before growing serious again; it was time to implement phase two of his plan. Unfortunately, he had neglected to research the vigilantes of the bay when he had been in the library, considering the protectorate to be of greater importance. Still, he was reasonably confident in his ability to track her down. In his experience, if there was one quality that defined capes as much as their belligerence, it was their pride (and it wasn't one that was restricted to villains, either- David, Kurt, even Alex himself had all had close calls because they refused to interact with the world on anything but their terms. If there was one thing he would credit the Doctor for, it was that she had taught them all when to push those instincts aside).


If her previous behaviour was any indication (and it was one hell of an indication, running down thugs rather than tracking them to base or ambushing their reinforcements) there was no way she would not try to gather information about him before a second confrontation. And since he had zero presence in this world, the only way to gather it would be direct observation.


Which meant following him around.


Thus, all he needed was to head out to gang territory and begin busting heads, and she would come to him. 'And then I shall, with my endless optimism, convert her to the side of the heroes!'


OK, that sounded ridiculous even in his head- clearly he had spent too much time around Mouse Protector recently…


But the base idea was sound. Alex had worked on much tougher cases in his time, albeit with greater support and more time, but the fact that she was a vigilante and not a super-villain meant that she was on the right path already. 'The most likely cause for her lack of registration, even as a protectorate affiliate, is her predilection for violence and aggressive tactics. Not good for PR, but I could likely put in a good word for her once I have gained some credibility with the protectorate. In the meantime, I'll need a way to keep close to her- a partnership?'.


That seemed like the best idea; if they managed to connect properly, he'd be in a position to bring out her full potential- especially if she grasped the same lessons on control it had taken him years to master under David's – and later Rebecca's – rather… sensational methods.


(If anyone asked, his smile was 100% because he would be training another hero and not that he would be finally subjecting introducing someone else to the training that had created Atlas. Chevalier didn't count- the need to preserve Cauldron's secrecy and the watchful eyes of the Youth Guard had prevented Alex from applying the full regimen. When he had tried sneaking him to a remote enough location to do it anyway…. well, there was a reason he developed techniques for immobilising Alexandria).


Best case scenario, Brockton gained a new hero and a well-trained Ward - Alex would know. He'd helped create the organisation in the first place – and even if she refused to sign on, he would never miss an opportunity to help a child who had obviously been through terrible trauma.

he hoped his child would never be broken like that.

Shaking his head, he refocused himself. 'All of these are hypotheticals anyway. First, let's find the girl before planning her life out for her'. He'd start out in the same are of downtown that she'd met him in last time, and work his way on from there until either she found him or something else required his attention. That way, no matter what, he'd have made a positive contribution to the city.


That was, after all, what a true hero did.

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"Armsmaster, Dauntless."


Emily Piggot strode into the darkened meeting room. As Director of the PRT East North East, she was used to dealing with problems. Capes were making a hash of everything, the world was circling around the drain and recently, a good day was one where things didn't turn to shit.


She couldn't tell how she was going rate this one yet.


"Alright, give me a full report. I've read your preliminary briefings, so if you have any additional observations or comments now's the time to make it heard". Technically speaking it was beyond her remit as PRT director to give orders on the acceptance of capes into the protectorate, but it would be a cold day in hell when she let the capes freely add to their ranks with no oversight. In the middle of a world gone mad, the advice of those few who were sane was needed more desperately than ever.


Predictably, Armsmaster was the first to respond. "I don't trust him" was all he said, but Piggot was long since used to having to wring explanations out of him, even if she often considered it easier to squeeze blood from a stone. Raising an eyebrow at him, she motioned for an elaboration.


"Not only did he arrive unannounced, with no prior interaction with the protectorate, he also lied at least twice during his time at PRT HQ". Despite the factual nature of his statement, Piggot couldn't help but note that he almost sounded petulant. Best to head it off then, before he could build up steam for a diatribe.


"And Dauntless? What were your first impressions?". The other man shrugged, and Piggot had to suppress a grimace at his nonchalance; it was apathy like this that was responsible for a fair few of the world's problems at the moment, the other half being the eventual – and usually messy – self destruction of every parahuman regardless of alignment or seeming stability. The fact that she had to rely on them of all people… but it was her job to work with what she had, not whine about the hand she'd been dealt. She focused her attention back on Dauntless.


"I didn't have any particular problems with the guy. Sure, he seemed a little shady, but he never made any untoward actions or gestures whilst I was watching. Besides, he seemed sincere about wanting to be a hero; I say we give him a chance. And even if he turns out to not be on the level, we'll be in a position to subdue him quickly. Keep your enemies closer and all that…"

It was a decent starting point- but only that. If Piggot was going to let an unknown into the protectorate, she was going to damn well sure have either information or leverage on him- and there was no doubt that Armsmaster would have been searching for both, given his animosity towards the newcomer. "Armsmaster, you previously mentioned that this 'Atlas' lied twice during your meeting. What specifically did he try to hide?"


Armsmaster tilted his head, no doubt accessing his armour's logs. "The first lie was his statement that, and I quote, 'I'm not really that experienced at this'. The second was that his insistence that he wanted to be a hero" – and here he shot Dauntless a look – "the statement only read as a partial truth. He's holding something back".


The conclusion that Armsmaster had come to was as clear as day, but Piggot couldn't help having her doubts about the whole thing. Even if his lie detector was foolproof (impossible, every cape was flawed in some way), he was also missing the bigger picture. 'Atlas' statement was, after all, a partial truth; not enough to condemn him by any means. His lie about his 'new cape' status though….


"I assume you followed up on his first statement?". This, Emily thought, was why she kept Armsmaster around; if 'Atlas' had experience, it was a viable thread for investigation.


Experience meant evidence. Paper trails. Records. In short, everything that the PRT would need to uncover whatever it was he wished to hide and hopefully find leverage over him. It wasn't a very pleasant thought, but it had to be done. Better to have the information and not need it, after all.


"As part of the registration process he gave us a name- Alexander Everett, though even a cursory search proved it to be an assumed identity". The last statement caught Piggot's interest; one of the easiest mistakes to make was to assume the identity of family or friends, often providing a link for any properly trained investigator. Just another example of how much capes screwed up, though in this case it could be used to her advantage- with a little bit of prompting to Armsmaster. "And whose identity did he assume?".


The response was disappointing. Apparently, Alexander Everett had been a decidedly average person up until he'd died of cancer in 1986. Whilst he was survived by both a brother and a sister, both currently lived in New York, and neither had ever had contact with anyone remotely matching 'Atlas' description- never mind that he himself would have been no older than Everett at the time.


With that said, his lack of records could itself be a clue. The identities of many early parahumans – both Hero and Villain - had been sealed by the Government in the early days thanks to the craze of 'secret identities' before the PRT had been founded. 'Atlas' appeared old enough to have emerged in that period…


And whilst actual records were scarce, the PRT archives would contain many thousands of police reports from those days. If tracking down Atlas by name wasn't possible, perhaps he could be identified by his powerset. Gravity control was, after all, a very memorable ability.


"Alright. We'll be following up on that thread in two ways. First, I will be asking Chief director Costa-Brown to search the old files for mentions of anyone related to Alexander Everett. Secondly, I will request the other divisions for police files from the time period. When they arrive, I expect you to help search for mention of anyone that matches 'Atlas' powerset".


Armsmaster perked up at that. "Excellent, I will contact Dragon and-" "-NO."


Piggot had been hoping that Armsmaster would be mindful enough to prevent information leaks, but of course the mere thought of Dragon would make him throw Opsec out the window.


Dragon was the world's premier Tinker and perhaps the PRT's most 'trusted resource'. That in turn had given the woman a chance to schmooze her way into every corner of the organisation. Emily had yet to figure out the cape's game, but no one gathered that kind of power without one. And though the Tinker hadn't been actively detrimental yet, there was no reason to trust her with potentially sensitive material before they had gotten a hold of the situation.


Letting out a deep breath, Emily moderated her tone. "Whilst she would be an excellent aid, Dragon is not a member of the protectorate or the PRT and not authorised to access the archives". Left unsaid was the fact that the servers that they were stored on were probably of her design anyway. Just another reason to get everything authorised by the Chief Director, Emily supposed. It would throw off anyone wondering what those files were for.


"On second thought, I'll ask the Chief Director to contact the other divisions as well- her influence should help us get those files faster" (and make it seem less like a violation of 'The Rules'). After all of the refused calls for assistance from the ENE division, Piggot was sure she'd co-operate if only to keep from being seen as snubbing her.


Armsmaster gritted his teeth, but said nothing. Piggot knew from experience that he would be itching to find something 'productive' to do with himself after her rejection of Dragon's aid, and Dauntless had successfully avoided having to contribute to the discussion at all, as he always did. Keeping them here further, she judged, would only breed resentment.


"Dismissed, both of you. I'll follow up from here".


Once they had left, Emily allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability, sinking further into her chair with a sigh. As if the current situation wasn't bad enough, she now had hat was at best a refugee from his past demons and at worst a former super-villain – one who had survived the Golden Age of heroes no less – running around her city. Still, she'd done what she could to minimise the damage, and if the investigations worked out they'd have a means of controlling him if necessary.


It didn't make her actions any easier, but Emily Piggot was never one to run from her problems. She may have been bending the rules and risking escalation, but it was worth the risk in exchange for even a better insight into the mystery man who'd appeared at their door- and possibly setting a precedent she could use to make such methods easier in the future.


In a world went mad and with the howling tides constantly on the rise, she had and would continue to do whatever she could to kick them in the teeth and stack the deck in her favour as long as it meant even a modicum of safety for those under her charge. To try anything less was a dereliction of her duty.


Even if the capes condemned her for her 'lack of morality', she'd stay the course.


That was, after all, what a true hero did.

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Lately, it was the small things that kept Rebecca going.


The paperwork, the meetings, the minutiae of running an organisation as large of the PRT. What others hated, she accomplished with a drive and focus that wa the envy of everyone that met her.


(what she didn't tell them was because it was the only thing that gave her satisfaction nowadays).


How many criminals had she stopped? How many threats averted? Surely she had a tally in the hundreds for both- and yet, whenever she shed her mundanity and took to the skies as Alexandria, she couldn't help but feeling that she was making less of a difference than she did as the Chief Director. Wasn't that what she had signed up for, to save lives?


Even her costume reminded her of that nowadays. What she had once seen as practical and effective, a hallmark of her dedication to being a hero above the image politics other got mired in, now seemed to her to be more like the greyed out uniform of an old soldier, throwing himself at an army even if he knew it was meaningless. Despite the effort, the protectorate had barely maintained the status quo- one where it was over three to one in the villains' favour and sliding closer to the brink every day. Not that she had given up on being Alexandria, of course- perseverance in the face of impossible odds was the first lesson of heroism, one she had learned even before the vial was offered…


At least the orders she gave, the emails she sent- all of these would produce reports, and returns, tangible evidence that her actions had helped someone come out of their trials better than when they had gone in. The second lesson of heroism; the ideal you represent is more powerful than you could ever hope to be.


Despite Rebecca Costa-Brown's status as a faceless bureaucrat to thousands, she represented the aegis of the PRT- living proof that parahumans would never overcome the shelter of civilisation. And that was more reassuring to most than the hope Alexandria's appearance would ever inspire.


Or maybe she was just moping. She'd been doing a lot of that lately as well.


Shaking off her wandering thoughts, Rebecca once again focused on the softly glowing screen in front of her, filled to the brim with messages from every branch of the PRT. Requests for men, materials, armaments, information- that last one caught her eye.


A request for access to the archives, from PRT ENE? Rebecca quickly scanned the message; a mysterious new cape had applied to join the ENE protectorate, one whose background was mysteriously missing, and Piggot wanted to comb through the old records for any traces of his identity.


If Rebecca had had the energy, she would have rolled her eye. Piggot was a decent administrator, but her prejudice against capes would often overwhelm her common sense- the decision of what to do with this 'Atlas' should have been left up to Armsmaster as the head of the ENE protectorate, and even then it was frowned upon to track down a cape's identity so brazenly. The fact that Piggot would bend the rules for what was by all indications a better case than many protectorate recruitments marked a new low for her stability. Absently, Rebecca made a mental note to review possible successors to Piggot when she had the time.


Despite this, the woman was cunning. It would be hard to deny such an innocuous request after the many negative responses to requests of extra equipment and staff that the PRT ENE had on record. That wouldn't stop her having a look at the requested files herself, though, just to make sure that Piggot didn't get anything more than she needed to know.


The request form itself seemed innocent enough. 'Atlas' had demonstrated some form of gravitational manipulation – useful, but limited – and had registered under a false name, 'Alexander Everett'-

Don't worry, Rebecca, I'll still be here.

The desk screamed as it twisted, warped beyond recognition by the forces applied to it.

If there's one thing I'm better at than you, it's being stubborn.

Dropping what remained of her desk, Rebecca slammed a hand on a button carefully recessed into the window frame. Within seconds, privacy screens had come down over all the windows and a tinkertech bug sweeper had gone over the room a dozen times. Only when it was confirmed clear did she speak, and her voice was distorted almost beyond recognition by her snarl.

"door me".

Seconds later, Alexandria stormed into the sterile white hallways of Cauldron base, her feet cracking the white tiles as they came down.

…Hey, I heard about your 'miracle'…

Whoever had sent this message, She'd- but she was getting ahead of herself.

…I'm glad. Really! It's just, uh, I wanted to ask a favour from you…

She'd play their game and unravel their strategy.

…when you've won, you'll spare a thought for poor old Alex, right?…

She'd hunt them down, and then…

…what do you mean, if you succeed? I know you can do it. You saved me, after all …

She'd already condemned so many in pursuit of her goal. Just this once, she wouldn't act the hero.

…Goodbye, Rebecca. I guess it's time for you to save the World…

For some reason, that thought only made her feel even worse.

…



A/N: And I'm back after some family stuff had me rushing of to India for a week, but that's no excuse: I'll try to be better from now on, I promise!

In other news, this chapter really fought me; I'm still pretty sure that I flanderized the PoV characters into being OOC, but I guess that's the point of experience. Worst case scenario, I revisit this bit later on. With that said, I still think it's my finest work yet in both quality and quantity. Do you agree?

Oh, and thanks to @IKnowNothing for stealing hours of my life using both the quest and this writing prompt.

Until next time!