Stranger than Brockton
The one where Taylor writes about life, and being Colin is suffering...
The one where Taylor writes about life, and being Colin is suffering...
Stranger than Brockton [Worm/Stranger than Fiction]
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Index
- Location
- Canada
Stranger than Brockton
The one where Taylor writes about life, and being Colin is suffering.
The one where Taylor writes about life, and being Colin is suffering.
Around Inciting Incident there is a large tonal shift, so be warned about the dark. It comes.
Prologue 1.1, 1.x, 1.2, 1.3
Inciting Incident
Hero's Journey 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 2.5, 2.6, 2.7, 2.8
Draconian Measures 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6
Bathos: A failed return to normalcy
Ideologue 4.1, 4.x, 4.2, 4.3, 4.4, 4.5, 4.6, 4.7, 4.8, 4.9, 4.10, 4.11
Spectres of a past life, canon paralogues
The less favoured son
Eternally nameless
Crossposted from Spacebattles
Prologue 1.1, 1.x, 1.2, 1.3
Inciting Incident
Hero's Journey 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 2.5, 2.6, 2.7, 2.8
Draconian Measures 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6
Bathos: A failed return to normalcy
Ideologue 4.1, 4.x, 4.2, 4.3, 4.4, 4.5, 4.6, 4.7, 4.8, 4.9, 4.10, 4.11
Spectres of a past life, canon paralogues
The less favoured son
Eternally nameless
Crossposted from Spacebattles
Last edited:
Prologue 1.1
- Location
- Canada
Armsmaster, or Colin if you were one of perhaps six people globally, was the leader of the Protectorate ENE. A Tinker of great skill, he had survived Endbringers, the gangs of Brockton Bay, and more importantly the near constant rage of one Emily Piggot.
He had only one problem. Colin Wallis was an ass.
"Wait. What?!"
Sitting deep in his lab,the Tinker had come to a startling realisation. He had no friends.
"Not true. There's Dragon, Militia, the rest of the Protectorate. Well, maybe not Dauntless.." Colin said.
The enumeration left him with two stark facts. One, that he was reduced to counting his acquaintances on his proverbial fingers. And two, that he was late.
Colin looked at the clock, finally hearing the soft alarm once the voice stopped talking.
"Shit," he said. Colin began to run for the conference room.
He bolted, pausing for a fraction of a second as he remotely triggered a save on the program he was working on.
Colin frowned as he did just that. How much caffeine had he drunk so far? A quick glance in the corner of his visor said he was fine. But the voice was beginning to worry him. His internal monologues shouldn't sound like a teenage girl. Was this a Ward prank? No, it didn't sound like Vista, and there was no way that Shadow Stalker would do something like this. The first time had been nearly a week ago when the voice had gone on about mothers. Colin hadn't thought about his parents in years. Naturally he had submitted himself for quarantine as per the master/stranger protocols. Hearing voices just wasn't what it used to be after all.
The cell had been no help. For three days he'd heard the girl (sounded like one at least) monologue about his feelings. It had been simultaneously the most unsettling and annoying thing that had ever happened to him. The visits of his team, the psychiatrist, and even his lunch were picked apart and aired to the world. Or at least they would be if anyone else could hear it. He was set free after the protocols failed to show any sign of abnormal behaviour, save for Colin shouting for the girl to shut up during the comprehension tests. She was such a blabbermouth at times it was hard to think.
An appointment had been set up with Dr Yamada for next Monday and he had been put back on duty, with Miss Militia handling his share of the patrols. Dragon had kept him from sulking, mostly, but it still rankled him.
And now the damn voice was back.
"Shut up!" he screamed. "Go bother Assault, damn you!"
Come to think of it, Ethan would probably enjoy this. Traitor.
Employees turned to stare as the armoured man near-sprinted through the base. Surprised at both his yells and his rather impressive speed.
Despite himself, Colin let a small grin appear, he really was proud of the motion augmentation systems he'd recently upgraded. They'd improved overall efficiency by 0.76 percent. Wait no, that's not the issue. He'd just have to go back in the cell. If some cape was messing with him, he'd be a liability.
As he sprinted into conference room B, he was greeted with the shocked gazes of his colleagues. Glancing between them and Director Piggot he said-
"I need you to initiate master/stranger protocols. I have reason to believe I may have been compromised," Colin yelled as the voice trailed off. He didn't plan on being part of any scheme, that's for sure.
Those Protectorate members sitting around simply stared at him. Piggot on the other hand...
"Dammit Colin! What now?!"
---
"Taylor? I'm heading out!" Her dad yelled from downstairs, and Taylor paused mid-sentence.
"Okay!" Taylor answered.
Hearing the door shut, the girl stared at the typewriter. She could keep going, but the flow was gone. She'd start another scene after she got back from Winslow. She sighed, hugging herself briefly. School was waiting, but seeing as how things were... She considered skipping, but even Winslow would call home eventually. She wouldn't, Couldn't, risk her father hearing about this. That the bullying hadn't stopped. That she was this close to failing.
'Or worse,' she thought.
Taylor looked back at the Typewriter. It had belonged to her mother, but as soon as Taylor had seen it sitting in a box she had used it whenever she could. Writing had always made her feel better, and she needed that now more than ever.
She moved her hands back to the keys, clicking out one final line.
Four hours later Colin stepped through Winslow's doors.
Taylor laughed a sad and broken sound. In her dreams. Armsmaster would never come to Winslow. Nobody decent ever would. And besides, Colin was a figment of her imagination. The real Armsmaster would be too busy saving the city or something.
Taylor trudged down the stairs and picked up her schoolbag with a resigned sigh. Just another day. She could survive. She always did.
-----------------
Colin pursed his lips. No one believed him. Oh, they'd done their tests, of course, randomised questions and daily passwords were checked and verified. Knowledge of his past and personal relationships was scoured through like a fine sieve. But at the end of the two-hour exam, they had proclaimed him clear. He'd protested, but the director had simply told him that until Yamada said otherwise he was on duty.
Piggot had given him the day off, on the condition that he actually leave the base. He'd grumbled, but complied, and soon enough he was sitting in a small coffee shop and reading one of the community papers. Dragon had recommended the place to him a year ago, and he'd come here on his free time ever since. The drinks were inexpensive, simple, and heavily caffeinated. Just the way he liked them.
The news had all the usual headlines:
Medhall CEO to hold annual banquette
Docks target of new city policy
Winslow 'Locker girl' really an accident?
He had the time, so he read through them all.
---
Winslow had so many bad nicknames that even the delinquents couldn't keep track of them all. For Taylor Hebert, the most appropriate one was probably 'Hell'. Melodramatic perhaps, but no less accurate for the comparison. Every day she set foot in these walls she felt as if she were following Dante's footsteps. Maybe worse off, she didn't have a philosopher to keep her company.
"No one even cares! Why does she even try anymore?" As usual, the girls went straight to stage whispering insults as soon as they caught sight of her. It was a good question though. Maybe out of some sense of stubbornness? Or more likely, to stop her dad from becoming that husk-like thing again. Waking up to his gaunt, blank expression in the hospital had made her want to throw up. It was like the past few years of grief had melted away, and he'd gone back to the day after her mother's death. Just so empty.
Emma smirked at her, and Taylor gave the cowed look that was expected of her, but truth be told she barely felt it these days. In her darkest moment, her proverbial worst day ever, nothing happened. The numb surprise that came from it was staggering. Being shoved in the locker, trapped in the hospital for a week, resigned to a lack of any form of justice, did nothing. Taylor had heard the rumors, one doesn't get into cape fiction without surfing Parahumans Online, and one can only read so much before they begin to connect the dots. It was obvious in retrospect. Trauma was the catalyst, and the locker was one hell of a trauma. When she woke up in the hospital, for a moment she had been glad. Glad that she might have gotten something out of all the torture. That just maybe the universe would tip the scales toward balance.
They hadn't.
Instead, there was utter defeat, a small settlement to pay her bills, and then life went on none the wiser. She hadn't taken it well. Principle Blackwell had 'generously' given her the rest of the month to recover from the 'accident'. Taylor had kept up on her projects, actually getting some done without the trio's interference. But it hadn't lasted forever, and her grades had plummeted as soon as she went back through the doors.
As she neared Mr Gladly's class Taylor saw Sophia leaning by the door. The other girl smirked, showing the slightest hint of teeth as she gave Taylor a jaunty wave. Some days, most days even, Taylor could force herself to walk past her. Could live through the torment of another day in class. But as she stood there, muscles locked stiff, she knew. Today wasn't most days.
Taylor turned on her heel, cursed herself mentally, and walked out the way she came. Sophia's laughter ringing triumphantly behind her.
---
The last article made Colin choke a little. He vaguely recalled hearing about some incident, but if it was as bad as this journalist was making it out to be.... Shadow Stalker went to Winslow, he supposed she might have heard something.
He could ask her tomorrow, of course, she had console duty if he remembered correctly. Colin looked at his watch, the seconds ticking away as slow as molasses. Or he could do it today, his day off was unofficial, and he could check in with the probationary Ward's teachers at the same time. Sophia had been less confrontational lately, and if that rang true at school as well then it would be a welcome development. Colin truly did have high hopes for her, regardless of the occasional headaches she was responsible for.
So decided, Colin folded up the paper and went to finish his coffee.
---
As Colin walked up the road he got a good look at the area. The half-painted graffiti set the tone nicely, he thought. Not even the delinquents wanted to make the effort anymore. A complete one-eighty from Arcadia High. Come to think of it, Armsmaster couldn't remember the last time the Protectorate had made a showing here. He'd have to schedule one with the principle and Piggot. It might do the place some good.
Two kids in hoodies sat by the door, cigarettes held loosely in hand. They gave him a once over that he was more than familiar with. The look you gave a potential enemy. Seemingly satisfied, they promptly ignored him as he stepped past and opened the doors. After taking one look inside the grimy halls he decided he didn't like this place at all.
Taylor's walk home was a melancholy one. The streets were filled with people, every one of them alone. Each one was utterly wrapped up in their own little worlds, and she doubted a single one of them would care if she ran into traffic. It would be just another death in Brockton. They'd show horror, gasp and scream, but as soon as they got to work her death would be something to use in conversations.
Looking around her, Taylor saw skinheads eyeing Asians. Shady figures, merchants most likely, lurking in the alleys. And most telling of all, the BBPD car going by without a care. The city was slowly dying, and no one seemed to care.
When she was younger, Taylor admired heroes. From Alexandria to Myrddin and all of them in between. She'd spend hours at a time gushing over capes with Emma, for all the good it did.
She waited for the light, not in any real hurry. Her dad was already at work, and wouldn't be back until dinner, if not later.
---
Her house was quiet, and that was fine. Soon a cup of tea joined the stack of blank papers on her desk, and she stared at what she'd started previously.
'Might as well keep going,' she thought, hands settling on the keys once more.
---
Colin could feel the oppressive atmosphere cling to him as soon as the door shut behind him.
"Oh hell, not this again," Colin muttered.
The silence was deafening.
"I wish"
His sense of justice wouldn't let him rest until he'd solved the mystery.
"I'm not Mouse Protector, dammit"
He walked slowly to-
Colin paused mid-stride and waited. After a few seconds had passed without commentary, he stepped forward again.
He walked slowly to the only place-
Stopping again he grit his teeth. This damn cape was more persistent than Clockblocker, no easy task. He considered the value of waiting it out, but eventually sighed and kept walking.
The only place he'd get any answers, though not the ones he expected.
"Wait, what was that last part?"
---
Taylor nursed the now cold tea. The words in front of her seemed to delight in taunting her.
'Join the club,' she thought. 'Emma would make jackets.'
She tried and tried, but couldn't come up with a way things didn't end lamely.
Blackwell's annoyed expression turned to panic as Colin explained his 'job', a farce perhaps, but no less true for it. She licked her chapped lips and gave a nearly imperceptible glance to the student records. Anyone else would have missed it, but not Colin. He excelled at seeing the small details, she wrote.
As if, principle Blackwell would just calmly explain Taylor's 'accident', the woman wasn't stupid enough to have such obvious tells, right? Besides, she was she trying to do here? The PHO creative forums had all kinds of Cape fics. She'd never really gotten the whole 'shipping' aspect, but the curbstomps and brawling fics could be fun from time to time. She'd made a few 'friends' on the site. Talking about writing with the other users had been cathartic, unfortunately, she had to go all the way to the library to do that.
Taylor rubbed her temples and leaned back in her chair. Lunch first, she could come back to this. Hopefully without bashing three bitches that Colin wouldn't even know about. She could make mom's lasagna, she wasn't as good at it as dad was but he'd like it anyway. And it had been a while.
Hopping out of her chair, Taylor went down to the kitchen.
---
Colin grew more suspicious the more Karen Blackwell talked. The voice had been right about her tics, though how she'd known about any of this was beyond him.
"So she hasn't been in any trouble?" he asked.
"None," the Principle replied. "Sophia's behaviour has been on par with her peers."
"Given the state of the area, I'll take that with a grain of salt."
"Suit yourself," Blackwell said with a shrug. "Was there anything else?"
"Actually yes," Colin said after a moment. "I saw this in the paper, 'Winslow 'Locker girl'. Sound familiar?"
"Yes, a student was injured accidentally, the school board paid for her stay in the hospital," she said. "I'm sorry, but I don't see how this is relevant to your work."
"I have concerns leaving a Ward in this school," he said. "Especially if the rest of this article is true." Colin let the principle sweat a little before continuing.
"Was it really an accident?" The principle went stiff at that.
"I don't appreciate your insinuations, Mr Wallis," she said. "Our staff has been more than fair accommodating Sophia's needs. Your involvement begins and ends with Sophia Hess. The Brockton Bay police are handling the investigation."
She gave him what she likely intended to be a hateful glare.
"If that's all Mr Wallis," the principle said with finality.
"Yes," he said. "it will suffice. Thank you for your time Mrs Blackwell."
Colin left the room with more questions than answers.
'Tell me something I don't know,' he thought.
He walked toward the entrance, unaware of the significance of his actions.
Colin frowned at the voice. He was fully aware of his actions. And if things didn't improve in this school, the staff would be made doubly aware of them. As things stood-
Colin had no idea at the time, but his actions today would change lives. And perhaps not for the better...
"What? No, no you don't get to just throw that out there and then stop! Hey! Are you listening?!"
His frustrations boiled over, and he shouted at the heavens. They were not impressed, but the cigarette-smoking teens from earlier suddenly decided to step away from the obviously crazy person.
"I'm not crazy you stupid woman!" Colin said. He turned to the students. "I'm not! And quit that shit, it'll kill you."
One of them gave him the finger, while the other nodded dumbly. Colin just stormed off.
---
Taylor stopped, having punched the last period. She sighed in satisfaction, it wasn't perfect, but it was there. She ate another bite of lasagna as she mulled over her options for the rest of the day. She could always throw it up on PHO, changing the names of course. Colin aside, the characters were all from her life, and that's not something you just throw up there. Come to think of it, maybe she should put down some other reason for Armsmaster to go to the school, 'locker girl' would basically be shouting her name after all.
She went back downstairs, washing the dishes while she went over ideas. The other PHO users might be able to help. And she was kind of interested in whatever crackfic Winged_One came up with this time, they were always good for a laugh.
He had only one problem. Colin Wallis was an ass.
"Wait. What?!"
Sitting deep in his lab,the Tinker had come to a startling realisation. He had no friends.
"Not true. There's Dragon, Militia, the rest of the Protectorate. Well, maybe not Dauntless.." Colin said.
The enumeration left him with two stark facts. One, that he was reduced to counting his acquaintances on his proverbial fingers. And two, that he was late.
Colin looked at the clock, finally hearing the soft alarm once the voice stopped talking.
"Shit," he said. Colin began to run for the conference room.
He bolted, pausing for a fraction of a second as he remotely triggered a save on the program he was working on.
Colin frowned as he did just that. How much caffeine had he drunk so far? A quick glance in the corner of his visor said he was fine. But the voice was beginning to worry him. His internal monologues shouldn't sound like a teenage girl. Was this a Ward prank? No, it didn't sound like Vista, and there was no way that Shadow Stalker would do something like this. The first time had been nearly a week ago when the voice had gone on about mothers. Colin hadn't thought about his parents in years. Naturally he had submitted himself for quarantine as per the master/stranger protocols. Hearing voices just wasn't what it used to be after all.
The cell had been no help. For three days he'd heard the girl (sounded like one at least) monologue about his feelings. It had been simultaneously the most unsettling and annoying thing that had ever happened to him. The visits of his team, the psychiatrist, and even his lunch were picked apart and aired to the world. Or at least they would be if anyone else could hear it. He was set free after the protocols failed to show any sign of abnormal behaviour, save for Colin shouting for the girl to shut up during the comprehension tests. She was such a blabbermouth at times it was hard to think.
An appointment had been set up with Dr Yamada for next Monday and he had been put back on duty, with Miss Militia handling his share of the patrols. Dragon had kept him from sulking, mostly, but it still rankled him.
And now the damn voice was back.
"Shut up!" he screamed. "Go bother Assault, damn you!"
Come to think of it, Ethan would probably enjoy this. Traitor.
Employees turned to stare as the armoured man near-sprinted through the base. Surprised at both his yells and his rather impressive speed.
Despite himself, Colin let a small grin appear, he really was proud of the motion augmentation systems he'd recently upgraded. They'd improved overall efficiency by 0.76 percent. Wait no, that's not the issue. He'd just have to go back in the cell. If some cape was messing with him, he'd be a liability.
As he sprinted into conference room B, he was greeted with the shocked gazes of his colleagues. Glancing between them and Director Piggot he said-
"I need you to initiate master/stranger protocols. I have reason to believe I may have been compromised," Colin yelled as the voice trailed off. He didn't plan on being part of any scheme, that's for sure.
Those Protectorate members sitting around simply stared at him. Piggot on the other hand...
"Dammit Colin! What now?!"
---
"Taylor? I'm heading out!" Her dad yelled from downstairs, and Taylor paused mid-sentence.
"Okay!" Taylor answered.
Hearing the door shut, the girl stared at the typewriter. She could keep going, but the flow was gone. She'd start another scene after she got back from Winslow. She sighed, hugging herself briefly. School was waiting, but seeing as how things were... She considered skipping, but even Winslow would call home eventually. She wouldn't, Couldn't, risk her father hearing about this. That the bullying hadn't stopped. That she was this close to failing.
'Or worse,' she thought.
Taylor looked back at the Typewriter. It had belonged to her mother, but as soon as Taylor had seen it sitting in a box she had used it whenever she could. Writing had always made her feel better, and she needed that now more than ever.
She moved her hands back to the keys, clicking out one final line.
Four hours later Colin stepped through Winslow's doors.
Taylor laughed a sad and broken sound. In her dreams. Armsmaster would never come to Winslow. Nobody decent ever would. And besides, Colin was a figment of her imagination. The real Armsmaster would be too busy saving the city or something.
Taylor trudged down the stairs and picked up her schoolbag with a resigned sigh. Just another day. She could survive. She always did.
-----------------
Colin pursed his lips. No one believed him. Oh, they'd done their tests, of course, randomised questions and daily passwords were checked and verified. Knowledge of his past and personal relationships was scoured through like a fine sieve. But at the end of the two-hour exam, they had proclaimed him clear. He'd protested, but the director had simply told him that until Yamada said otherwise he was on duty.
Piggot had given him the day off, on the condition that he actually leave the base. He'd grumbled, but complied, and soon enough he was sitting in a small coffee shop and reading one of the community papers. Dragon had recommended the place to him a year ago, and he'd come here on his free time ever since. The drinks were inexpensive, simple, and heavily caffeinated. Just the way he liked them.
The news had all the usual headlines:
Medhall CEO to hold annual banquette
Docks target of new city policy
Winslow 'Locker girl' really an accident?
He had the time, so he read through them all.
---
Winslow had so many bad nicknames that even the delinquents couldn't keep track of them all. For Taylor Hebert, the most appropriate one was probably 'Hell'. Melodramatic perhaps, but no less accurate for the comparison. Every day she set foot in these walls she felt as if she were following Dante's footsteps. Maybe worse off, she didn't have a philosopher to keep her company.
"No one even cares! Why does she even try anymore?" As usual, the girls went straight to stage whispering insults as soon as they caught sight of her. It was a good question though. Maybe out of some sense of stubbornness? Or more likely, to stop her dad from becoming that husk-like thing again. Waking up to his gaunt, blank expression in the hospital had made her want to throw up. It was like the past few years of grief had melted away, and he'd gone back to the day after her mother's death. Just so empty.
Emma smirked at her, and Taylor gave the cowed look that was expected of her, but truth be told she barely felt it these days. In her darkest moment, her proverbial worst day ever, nothing happened. The numb surprise that came from it was staggering. Being shoved in the locker, trapped in the hospital for a week, resigned to a lack of any form of justice, did nothing. Taylor had heard the rumors, one doesn't get into cape fiction without surfing Parahumans Online, and one can only read so much before they begin to connect the dots. It was obvious in retrospect. Trauma was the catalyst, and the locker was one hell of a trauma. When she woke up in the hospital, for a moment she had been glad. Glad that she might have gotten something out of all the torture. That just maybe the universe would tip the scales toward balance.
They hadn't.
Instead, there was utter defeat, a small settlement to pay her bills, and then life went on none the wiser. She hadn't taken it well. Principle Blackwell had 'generously' given her the rest of the month to recover from the 'accident'. Taylor had kept up on her projects, actually getting some done without the trio's interference. But it hadn't lasted forever, and her grades had plummeted as soon as she went back through the doors.
As she neared Mr Gladly's class Taylor saw Sophia leaning by the door. The other girl smirked, showing the slightest hint of teeth as she gave Taylor a jaunty wave. Some days, most days even, Taylor could force herself to walk past her. Could live through the torment of another day in class. But as she stood there, muscles locked stiff, she knew. Today wasn't most days.
Taylor turned on her heel, cursed herself mentally, and walked out the way she came. Sophia's laughter ringing triumphantly behind her.
---
The last article made Colin choke a little. He vaguely recalled hearing about some incident, but if it was as bad as this journalist was making it out to be.... Shadow Stalker went to Winslow, he supposed she might have heard something.
He could ask her tomorrow, of course, she had console duty if he remembered correctly. Colin looked at his watch, the seconds ticking away as slow as molasses. Or he could do it today, his day off was unofficial, and he could check in with the probationary Ward's teachers at the same time. Sophia had been less confrontational lately, and if that rang true at school as well then it would be a welcome development. Colin truly did have high hopes for her, regardless of the occasional headaches she was responsible for.
So decided, Colin folded up the paper and went to finish his coffee.
---
As Colin walked up the road he got a good look at the area. The half-painted graffiti set the tone nicely, he thought. Not even the delinquents wanted to make the effort anymore. A complete one-eighty from Arcadia High. Come to think of it, Armsmaster couldn't remember the last time the Protectorate had made a showing here. He'd have to schedule one with the principle and Piggot. It might do the place some good.
Two kids in hoodies sat by the door, cigarettes held loosely in hand. They gave him a once over that he was more than familiar with. The look you gave a potential enemy. Seemingly satisfied, they promptly ignored him as he stepped past and opened the doors. After taking one look inside the grimy halls he decided he didn't like this place at all.
Taylor's walk home was a melancholy one. The streets were filled with people, every one of them alone. Each one was utterly wrapped up in their own little worlds, and she doubted a single one of them would care if she ran into traffic. It would be just another death in Brockton. They'd show horror, gasp and scream, but as soon as they got to work her death would be something to use in conversations.
Looking around her, Taylor saw skinheads eyeing Asians. Shady figures, merchants most likely, lurking in the alleys. And most telling of all, the BBPD car going by without a care. The city was slowly dying, and no one seemed to care.
When she was younger, Taylor admired heroes. From Alexandria to Myrddin and all of them in between. She'd spend hours at a time gushing over capes with Emma, for all the good it did.
She waited for the light, not in any real hurry. Her dad was already at work, and wouldn't be back until dinner, if not later.
---
Her house was quiet, and that was fine. Soon a cup of tea joined the stack of blank papers on her desk, and she stared at what she'd started previously.
'Might as well keep going,' she thought, hands settling on the keys once more.
---
Colin could feel the oppressive atmosphere cling to him as soon as the door shut behind him.
"Oh hell, not this again," Colin muttered.
The silence was deafening.
"I wish"
His sense of justice wouldn't let him rest until he'd solved the mystery.
"I'm not Mouse Protector, dammit"
He walked slowly to-
Colin paused mid-stride and waited. After a few seconds had passed without commentary, he stepped forward again.
He walked slowly to the only place-
Stopping again he grit his teeth. This damn cape was more persistent than Clockblocker, no easy task. He considered the value of waiting it out, but eventually sighed and kept walking.
The only place he'd get any answers, though not the ones he expected.
"Wait, what was that last part?"
---
Taylor nursed the now cold tea. The words in front of her seemed to delight in taunting her.
'Join the club,' she thought. 'Emma would make jackets.'
She tried and tried, but couldn't come up with a way things didn't end lamely.
Blackwell's annoyed expression turned to panic as Colin explained his 'job', a farce perhaps, but no less true for it. She licked her chapped lips and gave a nearly imperceptible glance to the student records. Anyone else would have missed it, but not Colin. He excelled at seeing the small details, she wrote.
As if, principle Blackwell would just calmly explain Taylor's 'accident', the woman wasn't stupid enough to have such obvious tells, right? Besides, she was she trying to do here? The PHO creative forums had all kinds of Cape fics. She'd never really gotten the whole 'shipping' aspect, but the curbstomps and brawling fics could be fun from time to time. She'd made a few 'friends' on the site. Talking about writing with the other users had been cathartic, unfortunately, she had to go all the way to the library to do that.
Taylor rubbed her temples and leaned back in her chair. Lunch first, she could come back to this. Hopefully without bashing three bitches that Colin wouldn't even know about. She could make mom's lasagna, she wasn't as good at it as dad was but he'd like it anyway. And it had been a while.
Hopping out of her chair, Taylor went down to the kitchen.
---
Colin grew more suspicious the more Karen Blackwell talked. The voice had been right about her tics, though how she'd known about any of this was beyond him.
"So she hasn't been in any trouble?" he asked.
"None," the Principle replied. "Sophia's behaviour has been on par with her peers."
"Given the state of the area, I'll take that with a grain of salt."
"Suit yourself," Blackwell said with a shrug. "Was there anything else?"
"Actually yes," Colin said after a moment. "I saw this in the paper, 'Winslow 'Locker girl'. Sound familiar?"
"Yes, a student was injured accidentally, the school board paid for her stay in the hospital," she said. "I'm sorry, but I don't see how this is relevant to your work."
"I have concerns leaving a Ward in this school," he said. "Especially if the rest of this article is true." Colin let the principle sweat a little before continuing.
"Was it really an accident?" The principle went stiff at that.
"I don't appreciate your insinuations, Mr Wallis," she said. "Our staff has been more than fair accommodating Sophia's needs. Your involvement begins and ends with Sophia Hess. The Brockton Bay police are handling the investigation."
She gave him what she likely intended to be a hateful glare.
"If that's all Mr Wallis," the principle said with finality.
"Yes," he said. "it will suffice. Thank you for your time Mrs Blackwell."
Colin left the room with more questions than answers.
'Tell me something I don't know,' he thought.
He walked toward the entrance, unaware of the significance of his actions.
Colin frowned at the voice. He was fully aware of his actions. And if things didn't improve in this school, the staff would be made doubly aware of them. As things stood-
Colin had no idea at the time, but his actions today would change lives. And perhaps not for the better...
"What? No, no you don't get to just throw that out there and then stop! Hey! Are you listening?!"
His frustrations boiled over, and he shouted at the heavens. They were not impressed, but the cigarette-smoking teens from earlier suddenly decided to step away from the obviously crazy person.
"I'm not crazy you stupid woman!" Colin said. He turned to the students. "I'm not! And quit that shit, it'll kill you."
One of them gave him the finger, while the other nodded dumbly. Colin just stormed off.
---
Taylor stopped, having punched the last period. She sighed in satisfaction, it wasn't perfect, but it was there. She ate another bite of lasagna as she mulled over her options for the rest of the day. She could always throw it up on PHO, changing the names of course. Colin aside, the characters were all from her life, and that's not something you just throw up there. Come to think of it, maybe she should put down some other reason for Armsmaster to go to the school, 'locker girl' would basically be shouting her name after all.
She went back downstairs, washing the dishes while she went over ideas. The other PHO users might be able to help. And she was kind of interested in whatever crackfic Winged_One came up with this time, they were always good for a laugh.
Prologue 1.x
- Location
- Canada
July 15th, 2006
The summer sun beamed down on Brockton Bay as unrelentingly as every other force, the clear skies could be called beautiful if not for the haze that drifted between the high rises downtown. Out on Captain's Hill, however, the city smog was absent.
Despite the weather, there were few people enjoying the park. An old couple fed pigeons whilst seated on a wooden bench, a college-aged woman sat by a tree, scribbling away in a notebook, and a young girl's parents watched their daughter wave goodbye at her friend.
Next step: Wait for parental argument
The woman by the tree wasn't quite sure why she was here, only that she had to be. The young girl wandered her way over to her parents but veered off as they began to bicker. It was the practised motion of someone living in blissful ignorance.
Next step: attract attention
The woman shifted ever so slightly, her body language changing to be more overt and interesting. As the child looked over, the woman gave a smile. The woman herself had no way of knowing that her smile made the girl think of her mother, that her hair, worn long and curly today as per a previous step, reinforced this thought in the girl's mind. The picture the woman gave off was so much like her mother that her parent's warnings about talking to strangers were quickly forgotten.
With the innocence that only the young can have, the girl skipped over.
"What'cha doing?" Asked the girl. The woman grinned as if sharing a secret, holding out her notebook.
"I'm writing a story," she said. "Do you like stories?"
"Yes!" Taylor said. "Especially the ones with Alexandria! She goes Swoosh! In and then the bad guys just run cause they know they'll lose." The woman just chuckled.
"I'm afraid I don't have Alexandria in mine," she said. "What's your name?"
"I'm Taylor!" the girl chirped. "My mom and dad told me not to talk to strangers though..."
"I'm Fortuna," the woman said. "There, we're not strangers anymore, are we?" In her mind, the woman was puzzled. The truth was not usually the Path she had to take.
"Well...I guess not," Taylor said, hesitancy leaving as soon as it came. "So what's your story about?"
"A young hero. One who walks a lonely Path as she tries to save her village."
Taylor frowned.
"That's too sad. A hero should have friends. She's saving them right? So why would they leave her alone?"
The woman's lips moved without thought as she spoke.
"Maybe you can help me then, hmm?" she said. "Let's come up with a better story."
The girl gave a bright, happy smile as Contessa handed her the book, pressing a ballpoint pen into Taylor's hand. They only had a minute before the girl's parents came up, the father spoke with a tight politeness. Fortuna thought it was equally from her own actions as with the argument with his wife. With a careless "See you later!" Taylor Hebert left the park, leaving the woman alone.
Contessa stood up as she waited for them to leave sight. The product of this encounter wouldn't show for years, but the proverbial seed had been planted.
Task complete
"Door to base."
'A sad Path, hmm?' Fortuna thought as her body stepped smoothly through Doormaker's portal. 'I'm afraid it's the only one I have Taylor.'
---
February 9th, 2011
When Thomas Calvert heard that Armsmaster was being mastered, his first thought was how. There weren't any new capes that his Tattletale had heard of, and his own sources would have let him know if a big player suddenly came to town. He thought about it for a moment. He could work with this.
Thomas Calvert stepped into the cell, his men standing just outside if Armsmaster became dangerous. He gave a reassuring smile as he pulled out a sheet of questions. Sitting down, he began.
Coil waited patiently is his base. It was still under construction in some areas, but his own office for fully set up. He began typing out a transcription of his other life.
"Hello Armsmaster, we haven't formally met. My name is Thomas Calvert, and I'll be handling your examination under M/S Protocol," He said. "Why don't you describe this event in as simple a way as you can."
"It's like there's a girl saying everything I think and do," Armsmaster said. "Don't you hear it?"
"I'm afraid not," Thomas said. "but please, in as much detail as you can, continue."
Coil snatched a pad of post-it notes from the left side of the desk, scribbling his own thoughts in the pauses in his other self's conversation.
"Any accents?" Thomas asked.
"No, she sounds local to me."
Coil loyally typed each word. Jotting down another note
"Fairly, yes, but it's odd."
"How so?" Thomas asked, shifting to cross his legs.
"The voice narrates what I'm doing, but it's not in the first person."
"What do you mean?"
"It sounds like a book, in my head, of my life."
"Very curious," Thomas said.
Coil put down another note
"Calvert, what the hell are you doing here?! You aren't cleared on M/S testing!" Deputy Director Renick yelled.
Smirking, Thomas replied by flipping him the bird and sticking out his tongue. Then, as the older man sputtered impotently, he dropped the time-line.
Coil cracked a smile at his other self's antics. You have to have to enjoy your work after all. Looking over his notes, it seemed like the master was more thinker, a precog linked to only one person at a time perhaps? The only thing he couldn't figure out was why this girl would speak to her target. It sort of defeated the purpose. Still, no sense letting talent go to waste. With another couple of powers, he'd have his own Think tank. The notion made him slightly giddy. He reached over and picked up the phone, dialling a number with practised ease. She picked up on the first ring.
"Hello Ms Wilbourne, I have a job for you."
The summer sun beamed down on Brockton Bay as unrelentingly as every other force, the clear skies could be called beautiful if not for the haze that drifted between the high rises downtown. Out on Captain's Hill, however, the city smog was absent.
Despite the weather, there were few people enjoying the park. An old couple fed pigeons whilst seated on a wooden bench, a college-aged woman sat by a tree, scribbling away in a notebook, and a young girl's parents watched their daughter wave goodbye at her friend.
Next step: Wait for parental argument
The woman by the tree wasn't quite sure why she was here, only that she had to be. The young girl wandered her way over to her parents but veered off as they began to bicker. It was the practised motion of someone living in blissful ignorance.
Next step: attract attention
The woman shifted ever so slightly, her body language changing to be more overt and interesting. As the child looked over, the woman gave a smile. The woman herself had no way of knowing that her smile made the girl think of her mother, that her hair, worn long and curly today as per a previous step, reinforced this thought in the girl's mind. The picture the woman gave off was so much like her mother that her parent's warnings about talking to strangers were quickly forgotten.
With the innocence that only the young can have, the girl skipped over.
"What'cha doing?" Asked the girl. The woman grinned as if sharing a secret, holding out her notebook.
"I'm writing a story," she said. "Do you like stories?"
"Yes!" Taylor said. "Especially the ones with Alexandria! She goes Swoosh! In and then the bad guys just run cause they know they'll lose." The woman just chuckled.
"I'm afraid I don't have Alexandria in mine," she said. "What's your name?"
"I'm Taylor!" the girl chirped. "My mom and dad told me not to talk to strangers though..."
"I'm Fortuna," the woman said. "There, we're not strangers anymore, are we?" In her mind, the woman was puzzled. The truth was not usually the Path she had to take.
"Well...I guess not," Taylor said, hesitancy leaving as soon as it came. "So what's your story about?"
"A young hero. One who walks a lonely Path as she tries to save her village."
Taylor frowned.
"That's too sad. A hero should have friends. She's saving them right? So why would they leave her alone?"
The woman's lips moved without thought as she spoke.
"Maybe you can help me then, hmm?" she said. "Let's come up with a better story."
The girl gave a bright, happy smile as Contessa handed her the book, pressing a ballpoint pen into Taylor's hand. They only had a minute before the girl's parents came up, the father spoke with a tight politeness. Fortuna thought it was equally from her own actions as with the argument with his wife. With a careless "See you later!" Taylor Hebert left the park, leaving the woman alone.
Contessa stood up as she waited for them to leave sight. The product of this encounter wouldn't show for years, but the proverbial seed had been planted.
Task complete
"Door to base."
'A sad Path, hmm?' Fortuna thought as her body stepped smoothly through Doormaker's portal. 'I'm afraid it's the only one I have Taylor.'
---
February 9th, 2011
When Thomas Calvert heard that Armsmaster was being mastered, his first thought was how. There weren't any new capes that his Tattletale had heard of, and his own sources would have let him know if a big player suddenly came to town. He thought about it for a moment. He could work with this.
Thomas Calvert stepped into the cell, his men standing just outside if Armsmaster became dangerous. He gave a reassuring smile as he pulled out a sheet of questions. Sitting down, he began.
Coil waited patiently is his base. It was still under construction in some areas, but his own office for fully set up. He began typing out a transcription of his other life.
"Hello Armsmaster, we haven't formally met. My name is Thomas Calvert, and I'll be handling your examination under M/S Protocol," He said. "Why don't you describe this event in as simple a way as you can."
"It's like there's a girl saying everything I think and do," Armsmaster said. "Don't you hear it?"
"I'm afraid not," Thomas said. "but please, in as much detail as you can, continue."
Coil snatched a pad of post-it notes from the left side of the desk, scribbling his own thoughts in the pauses in his other self's conversation.
- Only affects one person?
"Any accents?" Thomas asked.
"No, she sounds local to me."
Coil loyally typed each word. Jotting down another note
- New trigger? Young. Middle/high school? Local?
"Fairly, yes, but it's odd."
"How so?" Thomas asked, shifting to cross his legs.
"The voice narrates what I'm doing, but it's not in the first person."
"What do you mean?"
"It sounds like a book, in my head, of my life."
"Very curious," Thomas said.
Coil put down another note
- Not master?
"Calvert, what the hell are you doing here?! You aren't cleared on M/S testing!" Deputy Director Renick yelled.
Smirking, Thomas replied by flipping him the bird and sticking out his tongue. Then, as the older man sputtered impotently, he dropped the time-line.
Coil cracked a smile at his other self's antics. You have to have to enjoy your work after all. Looking over his notes, it seemed like the master was more thinker, a precog linked to only one person at a time perhaps? The only thing he couldn't figure out was why this girl would speak to her target. It sort of defeated the purpose. Still, no sense letting talent go to waste. With another couple of powers, he'd have his own Think tank. The notion made him slightly giddy. He reached over and picked up the phone, dialling a number with practised ease. She picked up on the first ring.
"Hello Ms Wilbourne, I have a job for you."
Prologue 1.2
- Location
- Canada
February 15th, 2011
Taylor sat in her room. After running home she'd instinctively put new paper in the typewriter. The warmth in her hands from the tea she held did nothing to rid her of the chill she felt.
'Unmasking a cape?' The thought was as ludicrous the hundredth time as it had been the first. But the Mod had seemed truly angry, almost frightened. But if that was true...
Taylor put her hands over the keys, fingers hovering before she slowly pecked out a sentence.
Can you hear me?
She sucked in a breath, waiting for a moment. And then exhaled, it didn't work like that. She hadn't felt the certainty of her words. She couldn't communicate with Colin. Even supposing that the PHO Mod was right, that somehow she was writing the life of the real Armsmaster, she couldn't talk to him. It wasn't in the Narrative.
'Wait, what?'
The Narrative. By definition "A story or account of events... true or fictitious." so what if it was true? If she was writing a Narrative, a real Narrative... Then Colin Wallis was the main character?
'Well he is flawed enough,' she thought. 'And he still has room for growth in his character arcs, not to mention a romance..'
She stopped there. If it was real... if she was writing the life of a man...then no, just no. She wouldn't be some kind of literary Heartbreaker. She very idea made her nauseous.
It did mean one thing though, she had to know if it was real. Taylor shuffled through the pages she'd discarded. Finding the page she needed.
"Four hours later Colin stepped through Winslow's doors."
Taylor grabbed her coat and ran down the stairs.
-----
Colin's visit to Blackwell hadn't helped. He still had half day to himself, and Piggot wouldn't let him into his lab to unwind. The voice hadn't bothered him since the school. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost believe she was trying to lead him to something.
The musing would have to wait, however, as his work phone went off. He quickly checked the ID, opening it as soon as he saw the name.
"Hello, Drag-"
"Colin, we have a problem," came the concerned sound of his friend's voice.
"-on, wait what?"
Her explanation was fast and alarming. After all the time they'd worked together, Colin knew better than to question Dragon on things like this. She was very thorough in her research after all.
"You're sure the IP came from Brockton?" he asked.
"Positive," said the Canadian hero. "I've already ruled out proxy servers, the origin point was the Brockton Bay public library."
"Troubling." Colin said. And it was. He didn't want to admit it, but somehow this woman knew every detail about his life. Not only was his own identity compromised, but possibly the rest of the Protectorate and Wards. In the wrong hands, the information would be devastating. If this new player was a Cape... if she was a Villain.....
"I tracked the Username to an Email account of the same name. I'm just waiting for the court order to go through so I can proceed." Dragon said, sounding calmer than she likely looked. She always was good at compartmentalising.
"So we wait then."
"Well," she said. "Director Piggot wants you to come in. This new information has her on edge." On that, he could completely agree.
----
"It's a disaster is what it is!" Director Piggot said to her deputy, Renick. "I don't care whose ass we have to lick, get the Judge to sign that warrant. I want this troublemaker behind bars by evening!"
"Understood Director," Renick said, nodding to Colin as he left the director's office.
Colin waited for a moment so the woman could collect herself. He considered saying 'I told you so' but decided it would be both unprofessional and provocative. Director Piggot straightened her blazer before turning to look him in the eye.
"Tell me everything about this unidentified Master." Colin gave an internal sigh, desperately wishing to simply tell her to read his reports.
"Female, young, I'd peg her at approximately 14-23 years of age based on her voice. Her power appears to be precognitive in some respects, but It's.... off... somehow," He said instead.
"Off?"
"Yes. It has the capability to predict the future in a manner similar to literary 'Foreshadowing' but on average appears to simply dictate what I'm already doing."
"And why do you hear her?" Piggot asked.
"I've come to several possible conclusions," Colin said. "The first is that it's a taunt, that I'm deliberately being exposed to some form of broadcasting in order to annoy me. The second is a variant on the first, with the difference being that it's an attempt to influence me. Through suggestion and 'self-fulfilling prophecy' etc.
Colin paused a moment before continuing, "The last two are more favourable, though that doesn't necessarily coincide with more likely. The subject might be attempting to help. I've noticed several suggestive phrases that seem to be implying a need to investigate something."
"Which you will detail in depth for me later, along with any information you have uncovered in regards to it," Piggot said.
"Naturally," Colin said neutrally before continuing as if she'd never interrupted. "The last conclusion is that the subject may be unaware of her power. If the subject hadn't noticed her powers, and that has sometimes occurred with mental abilities, she may have been unaware of the truth behind her actions."
Director Piggot was quiet for a moment. Seconds ticked by in the drab office as she digested his words.
"If you were to rate them in terms of which you believe more..."
"That is the order I presented them in ma'am." She grimaced, rubbing her temples with a sigh.
"Alright, I want you to brief you team and the Wards on this. Stress caution in provoking the subject. Tentative thinker 4, master 0 rating. I'll call the other branches and get some second opinions."
Colin nodded, he'd expected as much, and turned to leave.
---
Taylor could hardly feel her feet hitting the ground. The drab colors of her washed out hometown had faded into obscurity as she ran down the sidewalk. Skinheads and ABB thugs were forgotten as completely as the buses she could have used. In the story of Taylor Hebert, the only things in her world was the ragged sounds of her gasping breath, and the feeling of crisp paper crumpled in her hand.
She didn't know how much time had passed, only that it had gotten dark. Winslow stood like the walls of Alcatraz, a fortress of torment from which there was no escape. She took the steps two at a time, rushing in her attempt to get to the door. The dented steel doors themselves were unlocked. The custodians were probably still cleaning. Or doing drugs in the bathroom. It depended on who was working that day.
Taylor kept up her pace through the hall, skidding on the linoleum floor as she took the turn to the office. Inside was the school's secretary, Mrs. Potts. Potts was a slight woman, with that 'could fall over in a stiff breeze' feeling. She somehow managed to be skinnier than Taylor herself, probably a side-effect of the fashion rags she kept meticulously on the side of her desk.
Taylor shuffled over to the desk, clutching her paper tightly in her fist. Mrs Potts paid her no attention until she cleared her throat. The older woman simply raised her head, a measure of shock crossing her eyes before she settled into a casual sneer.
"Ms Herbert," she said. As if the whole office didn't know how to pronounce her name by now. Bitch.
"Mrs Potts," Taylor said. " I was wondering if someone checked in today... A Mr Wallis, Colin Wallis. I was supposed to meet up with him but..."
"But you decided to skip class again," she scoffed. "Honestly Taylor it's like you don't even want to be here."
'Hit the nail on the head,' Taylor thought. She plastered a look of nervous humour on her face.
"Anyways, could you tell me if he was here? I might need to reschedule, but I don't want to bother him..."
Mrs. Potts kept her exasperated glare trained on Taylor's face as she rooted in the drawer for the logbook. For a school as shitty as this, they were surprisingly astute in their record keeping. Maybe it gave them something to do so they didn't have to confront actual problems.
"Wallis...Wallis... Yes," Mrs Potts said. "A Colin Wallis came by around noon today. Guessed you missed him, deary."
She didn't have to fake the look of shock and disappointment. The room seemed to swim before her eyes.
Four hours.... she had written, and four hours had passed when Colin Wallis stepped into her school.
'It's true...' she thought. For once in a long time, Taylor didn't know how to react. She mumbled blindly at Mrs Potts as the woman shooed her out into the hall and locked up for the night. And Taylor herself...
Taylor needed to think.
---
The impossible had happened. Or rather, had newly come to light. She had powers, weak ones maybe, but powers none the less. Taylor sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, the ceiling fan of her bedroom lazily swooshing through the air.
'I called it a Narrative before,' she thought. 'So I have to think of it like a book.'
Drawing on her education (more her Mother's leavings than the public school system really) she started to draught out her power.
It was a Narrative, specifically Armsmaster's. Colin's. She had a certainty writing his life that she hadn't found with the rest of her scraps of fiction. If his life was a Narrative, then she was the Narrator. Third person limited omniscience if she pegged it correctly. She couldn't be a part of the story. Or rather, she wouldn't be able to predict her own involvement. She could foreshadow Colin's future. But to be a good Narrative, it would need to be.... she sighed. Unclear, and vaguely menacing. Awesome. That sounded like some kind of precognitive power to her, but maybe she could do more?
For now, she decided to stick to broad strokes. Give him something to work with... a picture of the next six months? It would have to do.
Taylor put her hands to the keys of her mother's typewriter once more, right hand feeding the paper into position. Taking a deep breath, she began.
---
Colin Wallis looked and the heroes assembled before him. His team. He'd fought tooth and nail to get where he was, and it was a position he was damn proud of. But he felt like he was missing something. He thought for a moment, recounting heads and going through the last couple of weeks mentally.
Oh, right. Assault and Battery had their anniversary. He realised that he'd never said congratulations. And more than that, they hadn't expected him to. Colin gave the room another sweep.
Velocity and Triumph were talking about the baseball game, trying to invite Dauntless to come with them to some sports bar.
He hadn't spoken to the Wards in a non-official setting since.... damn, he could remember.
Hannah was standing patiently for him to start, nodding politely to Battery's words but paying them no more attention than the coffee held softly in one hand.
Perhaps most of all. Out of all of them, he only called one by their real name.
'the Tinker had come to a startling realisation. He had no friends.'
Colin couldn't help himself, he let out a soft chuckle. It was a pathetically weak sound, but genuine. And surprise graced the faces of everyone else in the room. The conversation had come to a halt and Assault, Ethan, thrust a finger at him and tripped over his own mouth.
"Sorry," Colin said. "Let's begin." Colin strode to the whiteboard, selecting a black marker and began to write as her talked.
"We have a new, present threat in the bay. An unknown parahuman, Provisionally named 'Script'. She has presented herself as a young-sounding woman, approximately mid-teens to mid-twenties. And she is in possession of my true identity."
The key points had been written below her name, along with the temporary ratings Piggot had assigned. The protectorate member had calmed down, the seriousness of the situation as well remembered as Fleur was, for a similar reason.
"Is anyone else compromised?" Triumph asked.
"Anyone I have been in contact with this past week had potentially been compromised. Until we discover the limits of this parahuman ability I'm not willing to take any chances," Colin said.
The Ward leader Aegis, or Carlos out of costume, looked disturbed. Nevertheless, he stepped forward, "Should we be canvassing the high schools, sir?"
Colin shook his head. "No, we don't want to alert her. Official orders regarding Script are to locate and observe. We don't want to spook her into any hasty actions. Dragon already had to intervene once to keep my identity safe." This last admission brought more shock, the unease growing stronger.
PRT doctrine ran contrary to what Jane and Joe Citizen would think. A normal person sees a brute shrug off a tank shell and labels them the most dangerous. People like Nilbog or even Alexandria utterly debased this. In a fight involving parahumans, the first targets were masters and thinkers. The might not shatter steels walls, but the kinds of warfare they could employ were crippling.
This thinker, or presumed thinker, was a threat. And knowingly or not she had already broken the unwritten rules that kept the world from total collapse. Someone who learned a hero's identity was not unheard of, but even Kaiser would keep it to himself.
Colin made sure the gravity of his words sank in (3-4 seconds gave it an appropriate effect, his research said) and began to give his orders.
"The wards will keep an eye on suspicious activity in Arcadia and Winslow. I'll reach out to some contacts to cover Immaculata. Assault, Battery, and Triumph will-"
Colin stood surrounded by his fellow guardians.
"Colin?" Miss Militia called. "Whats wrong?"
He had only scratched the surface of the troubles this city would face.
Colin Wallis snatched up the first marker he could, offhandedly recognising it as a sort of mauve shade, and raced his hand across the whiteboard, desperately writing down each word the voice said to him. "Sir? What's going on? Is Script-"
The days of yore were over. The relative balance that let the common man exist in the Bay would be shattered. Swept away in a wave of events. It rested on him. All of it.
And if he failed. The city would die.
Colin dropped the marker, staring at the words, but not quite able to say anything. His team rushed up, prodding with questions or staring as he did at the dark prophecy in front of them.
Across the bay, a girl stared at her hands and cried.
---
The Undersiders' base was a structured sort of mess. Alec's video games were stacked haphazardly next to the console itself. The air smelled like dogs, and a series of food and water dishes had been laid out by Rachel this morning. She would come by and change them twice a day, without fail. In the adjacent space, Brian practiced his fighting technique alone. He'd long since given up on convincing any of the others to join him.
Lisa herself sat cross-legged at the small table in the kitchen. A half-full bottle of Advil and a severely overpriced cup of coffee flanked her on either side. Her daily ritual was to sift through anything Coil sent her way. Trying to get a picture of the goings on of Brockton Bay. She'd been looking into the new Master, the one Coil said had been fucking with Armsmaster.
A new file had joined the cue a minute ago. Coil had labeled it 'URGENT' and said to call the moment she got something from it. That on it's own would intrigue her. It would be priceless just to see what had him so freaked out. She'd watched Armsmaster blunder his way through another meeting, predictably normal until he stopped mid-sentence and barreled over Dauntless to get to the whiteboard.
Once the man's frenzied writing had stopped, Lisa froze the video. Her power cut through the grainy picture with ease and she soon had a copy of the message in front of her.
She let the words sink in, and got to work.
Armsmaster was spooked by the message Believes it to be manipulation, possibly fact. He was shocked by it, but no one else was Armsmaster only target. Then the message itself: Colin stood surrounded by his fellow guardians Straightforward. Lisa ignored the fact that she now knew a cape's identity, she could freak out later. The days of yore were over, the relative balance that let the common man exist in the Bay would be Shattered. Swept away in a Wave of events. It rested on him. All of it.Change coming. Events are disasters. Lisa blanched, nausea creeping up as she took the painkillers in her shaking hand. And if he failed. The city would die. True. Script is - *.
And then her power cut out.
The coffee was swept to the floor as Lisa hastily grabbed her cell phone. The phone rang only once, like usual, before Coil answered.
"Yes?" Said Coil.
"It's true. Sometime in the next year, this city is going to be in trouble. I don't know how, but Script thinks Armsmaster can help." Lisa said, the pounding headache making her wince. :And there's one other thing. My power doesn't work on her."
"...Well," Coil said. "Isn't that interesting."
Taylor sat in her room. After running home she'd instinctively put new paper in the typewriter. The warmth in her hands from the tea she held did nothing to rid her of the chill she felt.
'Unmasking a cape?' The thought was as ludicrous the hundredth time as it had been the first. But the Mod had seemed truly angry, almost frightened. But if that was true...
Taylor put her hands over the keys, fingers hovering before she slowly pecked out a sentence.
Can you hear me?
She sucked in a breath, waiting for a moment. And then exhaled, it didn't work like that. She hadn't felt the certainty of her words. She couldn't communicate with Colin. Even supposing that the PHO Mod was right, that somehow she was writing the life of the real Armsmaster, she couldn't talk to him. It wasn't in the Narrative.
'Wait, what?'
The Narrative. By definition "A story or account of events... true or fictitious." so what if it was true? If she was writing a Narrative, a real Narrative... Then Colin Wallis was the main character?
'Well he is flawed enough,' she thought. 'And he still has room for growth in his character arcs, not to mention a romance..'
She stopped there. If it was real... if she was writing the life of a man...then no, just no. She wouldn't be some kind of literary Heartbreaker. She very idea made her nauseous.
It did mean one thing though, she had to know if it was real. Taylor shuffled through the pages she'd discarded. Finding the page she needed.
"Four hours later Colin stepped through Winslow's doors."
Taylor grabbed her coat and ran down the stairs.
-----
Colin's visit to Blackwell hadn't helped. He still had half day to himself, and Piggot wouldn't let him into his lab to unwind. The voice hadn't bothered him since the school. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost believe she was trying to lead him to something.
The musing would have to wait, however, as his work phone went off. He quickly checked the ID, opening it as soon as he saw the name.
"Hello, Drag-"
"Colin, we have a problem," came the concerned sound of his friend's voice.
"-on, wait what?"
Her explanation was fast and alarming. After all the time they'd worked together, Colin knew better than to question Dragon on things like this. She was very thorough in her research after all.
"You're sure the IP came from Brockton?" he asked.
"Positive," said the Canadian hero. "I've already ruled out proxy servers, the origin point was the Brockton Bay public library."
"Troubling." Colin said. And it was. He didn't want to admit it, but somehow this woman knew every detail about his life. Not only was his own identity compromised, but possibly the rest of the Protectorate and Wards. In the wrong hands, the information would be devastating. If this new player was a Cape... if she was a Villain.....
"I tracked the Username to an Email account of the same name. I'm just waiting for the court order to go through so I can proceed." Dragon said, sounding calmer than she likely looked. She always was good at compartmentalising.
"So we wait then."
"Well," she said. "Director Piggot wants you to come in. This new information has her on edge." On that, he could completely agree.
----
"It's a disaster is what it is!" Director Piggot said to her deputy, Renick. "I don't care whose ass we have to lick, get the Judge to sign that warrant. I want this troublemaker behind bars by evening!"
"Understood Director," Renick said, nodding to Colin as he left the director's office.
Colin waited for a moment so the woman could collect herself. He considered saying 'I told you so' but decided it would be both unprofessional and provocative. Director Piggot straightened her blazer before turning to look him in the eye.
"Tell me everything about this unidentified Master." Colin gave an internal sigh, desperately wishing to simply tell her to read his reports.
"Female, young, I'd peg her at approximately 14-23 years of age based on her voice. Her power appears to be precognitive in some respects, but It's.... off... somehow," He said instead.
"Off?"
"Yes. It has the capability to predict the future in a manner similar to literary 'Foreshadowing' but on average appears to simply dictate what I'm already doing."
"And why do you hear her?" Piggot asked.
"I've come to several possible conclusions," Colin said. "The first is that it's a taunt, that I'm deliberately being exposed to some form of broadcasting in order to annoy me. The second is a variant on the first, with the difference being that it's an attempt to influence me. Through suggestion and 'self-fulfilling prophecy' etc.
Colin paused a moment before continuing, "The last two are more favourable, though that doesn't necessarily coincide with more likely. The subject might be attempting to help. I've noticed several suggestive phrases that seem to be implying a need to investigate something."
"Which you will detail in depth for me later, along with any information you have uncovered in regards to it," Piggot said.
"Naturally," Colin said neutrally before continuing as if she'd never interrupted. "The last conclusion is that the subject may be unaware of her power. If the subject hadn't noticed her powers, and that has sometimes occurred with mental abilities, she may have been unaware of the truth behind her actions."
Director Piggot was quiet for a moment. Seconds ticked by in the drab office as she digested his words.
"If you were to rate them in terms of which you believe more..."
"That is the order I presented them in ma'am." She grimaced, rubbing her temples with a sigh.
"Alright, I want you to brief you team and the Wards on this. Stress caution in provoking the subject. Tentative thinker 4, master 0 rating. I'll call the other branches and get some second opinions."
Colin nodded, he'd expected as much, and turned to leave.
---
Taylor could hardly feel her feet hitting the ground. The drab colors of her washed out hometown had faded into obscurity as she ran down the sidewalk. Skinheads and ABB thugs were forgotten as completely as the buses she could have used. In the story of Taylor Hebert, the only things in her world was the ragged sounds of her gasping breath, and the feeling of crisp paper crumpled in her hand.
She didn't know how much time had passed, only that it had gotten dark. Winslow stood like the walls of Alcatraz, a fortress of torment from which there was no escape. She took the steps two at a time, rushing in her attempt to get to the door. The dented steel doors themselves were unlocked. The custodians were probably still cleaning. Or doing drugs in the bathroom. It depended on who was working that day.
Taylor kept up her pace through the hall, skidding on the linoleum floor as she took the turn to the office. Inside was the school's secretary, Mrs. Potts. Potts was a slight woman, with that 'could fall over in a stiff breeze' feeling. She somehow managed to be skinnier than Taylor herself, probably a side-effect of the fashion rags she kept meticulously on the side of her desk.
Taylor shuffled over to the desk, clutching her paper tightly in her fist. Mrs Potts paid her no attention until she cleared her throat. The older woman simply raised her head, a measure of shock crossing her eyes before she settled into a casual sneer.
"Ms Herbert," she said. As if the whole office didn't know how to pronounce her name by now. Bitch.
"Mrs Potts," Taylor said. " I was wondering if someone checked in today... A Mr Wallis, Colin Wallis. I was supposed to meet up with him but..."
"But you decided to skip class again," she scoffed. "Honestly Taylor it's like you don't even want to be here."
'Hit the nail on the head,' Taylor thought. She plastered a look of nervous humour on her face.
"Anyways, could you tell me if he was here? I might need to reschedule, but I don't want to bother him..."
Mrs. Potts kept her exasperated glare trained on Taylor's face as she rooted in the drawer for the logbook. For a school as shitty as this, they were surprisingly astute in their record keeping. Maybe it gave them something to do so they didn't have to confront actual problems.
"Wallis...Wallis... Yes," Mrs Potts said. "A Colin Wallis came by around noon today. Guessed you missed him, deary."
She didn't have to fake the look of shock and disappointment. The room seemed to swim before her eyes.
Four hours.... she had written, and four hours had passed when Colin Wallis stepped into her school.
'It's true...' she thought. For once in a long time, Taylor didn't know how to react. She mumbled blindly at Mrs Potts as the woman shooed her out into the hall and locked up for the night. And Taylor herself...
Taylor needed to think.
---
The impossible had happened. Or rather, had newly come to light. She had powers, weak ones maybe, but powers none the less. Taylor sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, the ceiling fan of her bedroom lazily swooshing through the air.
'I called it a Narrative before,' she thought. 'So I have to think of it like a book.'
Drawing on her education (more her Mother's leavings than the public school system really) she started to draught out her power.
It was a Narrative, specifically Armsmaster's. Colin's. She had a certainty writing his life that she hadn't found with the rest of her scraps of fiction. If his life was a Narrative, then she was the Narrator. Third person limited omniscience if she pegged it correctly. She couldn't be a part of the story. Or rather, she wouldn't be able to predict her own involvement. She could foreshadow Colin's future. But to be a good Narrative, it would need to be.... she sighed. Unclear, and vaguely menacing. Awesome. That sounded like some kind of precognitive power to her, but maybe she could do more?
For now, she decided to stick to broad strokes. Give him something to work with... a picture of the next six months? It would have to do.
Taylor put her hands to the keys of her mother's typewriter once more, right hand feeding the paper into position. Taking a deep breath, she began.
---
Colin Wallis looked and the heroes assembled before him. His team. He'd fought tooth and nail to get where he was, and it was a position he was damn proud of. But he felt like he was missing something. He thought for a moment, recounting heads and going through the last couple of weeks mentally.
Oh, right. Assault and Battery had their anniversary. He realised that he'd never said congratulations. And more than that, they hadn't expected him to. Colin gave the room another sweep.
Velocity and Triumph were talking about the baseball game, trying to invite Dauntless to come with them to some sports bar.
He hadn't spoken to the Wards in a non-official setting since.... damn, he could remember.
Hannah was standing patiently for him to start, nodding politely to Battery's words but paying them no more attention than the coffee held softly in one hand.
Perhaps most of all. Out of all of them, he only called one by their real name.
'the Tinker had come to a startling realisation. He had no friends.'
Colin couldn't help himself, he let out a soft chuckle. It was a pathetically weak sound, but genuine. And surprise graced the faces of everyone else in the room. The conversation had come to a halt and Assault, Ethan, thrust a finger at him and tripped over his own mouth.
"Sorry," Colin said. "Let's begin." Colin strode to the whiteboard, selecting a black marker and began to write as her talked.
"We have a new, present threat in the bay. An unknown parahuman, Provisionally named 'Script'. She has presented herself as a young-sounding woman, approximately mid-teens to mid-twenties. And she is in possession of my true identity."
The key points had been written below her name, along with the temporary ratings Piggot had assigned. The protectorate member had calmed down, the seriousness of the situation as well remembered as Fleur was, for a similar reason.
"Is anyone else compromised?" Triumph asked.
"Anyone I have been in contact with this past week had potentially been compromised. Until we discover the limits of this parahuman ability I'm not willing to take any chances," Colin said.
The Ward leader Aegis, or Carlos out of costume, looked disturbed. Nevertheless, he stepped forward, "Should we be canvassing the high schools, sir?"
Colin shook his head. "No, we don't want to alert her. Official orders regarding Script are to locate and observe. We don't want to spook her into any hasty actions. Dragon already had to intervene once to keep my identity safe." This last admission brought more shock, the unease growing stronger.
PRT doctrine ran contrary to what Jane and Joe Citizen would think. A normal person sees a brute shrug off a tank shell and labels them the most dangerous. People like Nilbog or even Alexandria utterly debased this. In a fight involving parahumans, the first targets were masters and thinkers. The might not shatter steels walls, but the kinds of warfare they could employ were crippling.
This thinker, or presumed thinker, was a threat. And knowingly or not she had already broken the unwritten rules that kept the world from total collapse. Someone who learned a hero's identity was not unheard of, but even Kaiser would keep it to himself.
Colin made sure the gravity of his words sank in (3-4 seconds gave it an appropriate effect, his research said) and began to give his orders.
"The wards will keep an eye on suspicious activity in Arcadia and Winslow. I'll reach out to some contacts to cover Immaculata. Assault, Battery, and Triumph will-"
Colin stood surrounded by his fellow guardians.
"Colin?" Miss Militia called. "Whats wrong?"
He had only scratched the surface of the troubles this city would face.
Colin Wallis snatched up the first marker he could, offhandedly recognising it as a sort of mauve shade, and raced his hand across the whiteboard, desperately writing down each word the voice said to him. "Sir? What's going on? Is Script-"
The days of yore were over. The relative balance that let the common man exist in the Bay would be shattered. Swept away in a wave of events. It rested on him. All of it.
And if he failed. The city would die.
Colin dropped the marker, staring at the words, but not quite able to say anything. His team rushed up, prodding with questions or staring as he did at the dark prophecy in front of them.
Across the bay, a girl stared at her hands and cried.
---
The Undersiders' base was a structured sort of mess. Alec's video games were stacked haphazardly next to the console itself. The air smelled like dogs, and a series of food and water dishes had been laid out by Rachel this morning. She would come by and change them twice a day, without fail. In the adjacent space, Brian practiced his fighting technique alone. He'd long since given up on convincing any of the others to join him.
Lisa herself sat cross-legged at the small table in the kitchen. A half-full bottle of Advil and a severely overpriced cup of coffee flanked her on either side. Her daily ritual was to sift through anything Coil sent her way. Trying to get a picture of the goings on of Brockton Bay. She'd been looking into the new Master, the one Coil said had been fucking with Armsmaster.
A new file had joined the cue a minute ago. Coil had labeled it 'URGENT' and said to call the moment she got something from it. That on it's own would intrigue her. It would be priceless just to see what had him so freaked out. She'd watched Armsmaster blunder his way through another meeting, predictably normal until he stopped mid-sentence and barreled over Dauntless to get to the whiteboard.
Once the man's frenzied writing had stopped, Lisa froze the video. Her power cut through the grainy picture with ease and she soon had a copy of the message in front of her.
She let the words sink in, and got to work.
Armsmaster was spooked by the message Believes it to be manipulation, possibly fact. He was shocked by it, but no one else was Armsmaster only target. Then the message itself: Colin stood surrounded by his fellow guardians Straightforward. Lisa ignored the fact that she now knew a cape's identity, she could freak out later. The days of yore were over, the relative balance that let the common man exist in the Bay would be Shattered. Swept away in a Wave of events. It rested on him. All of it.Change coming. Events are disasters. Lisa blanched, nausea creeping up as she took the painkillers in her shaking hand. And if he failed. The city would die. True. Script is - *.
And then her power cut out.
The coffee was swept to the floor as Lisa hastily grabbed her cell phone. The phone rang only once, like usual, before Coil answered.
"Yes?" Said Coil.
"It's true. Sometime in the next year, this city is going to be in trouble. I don't know how, but Script thinks Armsmaster can help." Lisa said, the pounding headache making her wince. :And there's one other thing. My power doesn't work on her."
"...Well," Coil said. "Isn't that interesting."
Prologue 1.3
- Location
- Canada
February 16th, 2011
Wednesday morning came all too fast, greeting Taylor's bleary, swollen eyes with a benevolent glare. She felt like curling up in her bed, doing whatever she could to get rid of the feeling of dread she'd gotten when she wrote the message for Colin. It was an ice-cold dagger that slipped into her bones and wouldn't come out. Letting out a breath made shaky from last night's crying Taylor stood and shuffled down the hall to get ready.
The empty table wasn't a surprise. A note from her dad told her there was food in the fridge and that he had to go in early for work. Her dad had always been the better cook out of the two of them, Taylor had never been able to tap into her mother's culinary grace. Annette Hebert had always claimed that her husband was a close second when it came to the kitchen.
The meal still tasted bland.
Wednesday at Winslow was. . . off. She couldn't really explain why, but from the moment Taylor stepped foot in the hall that morning everything seemed dull. Not in the 'Stupid' or 'Boring' sense either, more like every barb was tamed or every shove held back to just a touch. Clearly, the attitudes of the students had not changed, so what had? Moreover, what had caused Gladly to intervene during his class. It was unheard of. Taylor had a laugh over the fact that 'Teachers doing their jobs' was grounds for an X-Files episode.
She was glad when the bell rang. As bad as Winslow was in her life it was at least constant. With that gone, the only constant in her life was a lack of parental guidance.
Her walk home was filled with questions. For all that she wrote about him, she really knew nothing about Colin. Did he have a favourite food? What did he do to unwind? Did he have feelings for any of the Protectorate members? Wait, scratch that last one.
She sighed. It wasn't like she was back to square one with her power, she'd never left it. She needed answers and expertise that she didn't have.
But she knew who might.
The campus of Brockton Bay's resident university wasn't impressive, but it more than made up for that in sheer size. It was shuffled off politely to the south-west of the city, about an hours ride on the bus. BBU owned the surrounding lands, and years of police and PRT training drills had given rise to a suburb of semi-permanent structures nestled in the woods. The paint-splattered walls flashed by between the foliage as the number 16 thundered towards the University terminal.
Taylor's mother had worked here, time gone by, and had made friends with other professors in the English department. On some occasions, her mother had brought her here, and she'd met them. Professor Hilbert had been all too happy to give her some pointers after Taylor started writing, it was a mix of his enthusiasm and the memory of Fortuna, that sad girl from the park, and had been her first inspirations. She hadn't heard from him since the funeral, but hopefully, he'd still be here.
The terminal stretched out in a narrow 'U' shape. Small, covered shacks providing shelter when there was rain. The directory board simply referred to each building by name, so Taylor started towards the Administration centre for directions. She supposed she might have made a sight, clearly too young to be here academically.
'And if I hadn't tried to stay with Emma,' she thought involuntarily. 'I might have been taking lectures here through Arcadia.'
She trudged past a group of rich-looking kids, pointedly ignoring the completely Caucasian make-up of the group. Even here this was still Brockton Bay, the thugs just wore nicer clothes. She lost herself in thought for a moment, enjoying a walk in another time, but was tripped out of her daydream, literally, when she crashed into a blonde girl going the other way.
"OhgodI'msosorryareyouokay?" Taylor blurted, torn between finding her glasses and trying to help her older girl up. Ultimately she did neither, the young woman standing easily and helping her up instead. The snort of amusement was expected and usually preceded a scathing quip about 'Clumsy Hebert' back in school.
"I'm fine," said the grinning blonde. "'Tis but a scratch!" after making sure Taylor was okay to stand, she began to look for the fallen glasses.
"I'm still so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and then I hit you and-"
"Chill," she said with a kind, exasperated look. "It takes more than that to do any damage, believe me. Ah, here we go."
The woman rubbed the dirt off her glasses and handed them back to Taylor, who put them on only to gasp at who this was.
"There's the look I was waiting for," said Crystal Pelham. "So, to re-cap: Whoops. Hello, nice to meet you. And we're both okay?"
"Uh. Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Taylor said, blood rushing to her cheeks in embarrassment.
"So either the freshmen are getting smaller each year, or you're looking for something. Am I right?" Crystal said, cocksure grin still firmly in place.
"An old friend of my mothers, cause I don't, uh, go here," Taylor said.
'Oh god, kill me now.'
"Professor Hilbert. From the English department."
Crystal's smile got even wider, was that a side effect of the fame or was she just naturally bubbly?
"Jules?" she said. "Cool, I've only had one class with him so far but he's a pretty awesome guy. Super knowledgeable, like Wikipedia tier."
Was this her Deus ex Machina? Seriously the chances of her running, actually and factually, into Crystal Pelham only to find out that one of her professors was the man Taylor was trying to find?
'Fuck it. Powers.'
"Yeah, that's um kind of why I'm here," Taylor said. "I've been trying to write this story, but I need some advice. I thought that since he's a friend. . . maybe. . ."
"Oh, totally," Crystal said, ponytail bobbing just as wildly as her head. "Jules is the kind of teacher who actually likes to teach. You could be a total bonehead and he'd just patiently explain Herakles' labours. He's nice like that, just kind of- Well he's blunt about stuff, just don't take it personally."
"Um, yeah." succinct. Well done Taylor. "Could you tell me where to find him?"
"I'll do you one better," she said.
'Wait, what?'
If one were to look inside the head of one Taylor Hebert at that moment the prevailing thought would be: 'How the fuck physics, why?!' Followed closely by: 'Flying is cool. No wonder New Wave was so well liked.'
Crystal dropped her off on the roof of one of the larger buildings and wrote a room number on Taylor's hand with a marker.
"Don't worry, it washes off with water!" She shouted as she flew off.
'Fuck it. Capes.'
Professor Jules Hilbert had had his tenure since before Medhall had even existed. He'd worked in BBU longer than most of his students had been alive. He'd given lectures to Crystal Pelham (and learned to leave a window open in case of emergencies). On the whole, he usually wasn't taken by surprise.
One also doesn't have the daughter of a deceased protege come by everyday. Especially not if you haven't seen her in years. Jules took it in stride, though, and instead of gazing awkwardly at the young girl, he simply smiled.
"Hello again, Taylor. Something I can help you with?"
He knew it was the right choice when Taylor's eyes misted up, a wavering smile pasted to her face.
Jules Hilbert's office was exactly like Taylor had remembered it. From the hundreds of books to the small TV tucked away on one shelf. He'd made her a cup of tea to help calm her down. The smell made her think of all the times her mother had debated with the older man, with Taylor looking on in awe, trying to absorb whatever she could.
So," the professor said after a few moments. "What can I do for you, Taylor?"
"I need some advice on. . . a project of mine. I don't know where to, uh, take it. Or how much I need to put down."
Jules Hilbert looked into her eyes briefly and then shrugged. Then he went into full lecture mode.
The question, he said, was the scope of the work. Then came the genre followed by the plot itself. Twenty minutes into it Taylor realised this wasn't going to get her anywhere. She wouldn't be able to learn if she wasn't truthful.
"Mr Hilbert," she began, hands wringing in her lap. "The truth is. I. I'm a-"
"Taylor," the professor said, cutting her off. "I knew your mother for a long time, and I've known you. I won't force you to say a word, but rest assured I know how to keep a secret."
Taylor nodded, staring at her half-finished tea deeply.
"I think I'm a parahuman."
"hmm. While it wasn't last on my list, it wasn't first either," Hilbert said. "Ah, and my condolences. Ms Pelham has told me some of what one has to go through in order to get a parahuman ability, I must say I don't envy it." Taylor just nodded, hugging the cup in her hands.
"Well, I assume something of my expertise is required, yes? Are you looking for similar powers in fiction or myth? Some capes like to go from a classical theme."
"No, it's more that my powers are your field of expertise," Taylor said. The professor gestured for her to continue. "It's like I'm writing a story, but it's real. The character I thought I made up is actually a hero. I'm really, really, confused and I just want to know what I can do, how I can help."
"Hmm. It sounds like a mental ability, The PRT calls them 'Thinkers'? No matter. Labels are labels, nothing more or less. It's your ability that matters here. Tell me how it works, what you know so far."
"Well," she began." It's like this."
"So this 'Narrative', have you tried applying it to anyone else?" Hilbert said.
"not yet, why?"
"Well it would say a lot about the scope," he said. "Both of your ability and of the story you are seeing."
"Like if it's an epic or not?"
"Precisely. Perhaps you can see the stories of anyone you put your mind to, or maybe it only works with those involved. The certainty you felt writing Armsmaster's life. . ."
"Col-"
"I don't want to know his name!" Hilbert snapped. "I know your powers see through identities completely, but please keep such information to yourself. Part of the guidelines of the community, so to speak.
"Now, I want you to pick some people at random. From across the country. Anyone from a guy at Seven Eleven to Legend. See if you feel that same certainty. Additionally, see if you can use your power without writing anything, observe the effects."
'And my powers get me homework,' Taylor thought. She was simultaneously happy and a bit bemused at this.
"Also pay attention to the degrees of separation. How distinct is everything you write? It could give you some benchmarks."
"Thank you professor Hilbert," Taylor said, looking at the owl-shaped clock on the wall. "This has been a huge help, but I've taken enough of your time and I should probably go home."
The older man smiled, gathering up a few textbooks and theses for her to take.
"It was my pleasure, Ms Hebert. Don't be a stranger." It really showed the generational gap when people used outdated saying like that. Nevertheless, Taylor smiled and waved goodbye, beginning the long trek home.
It was good, Colin reflected, that the Protectorate maintained good relations with New Wave. Despite their differences they had been stalwart allies for a long time. With similar approaches regarding the law and accountability to the public, it made sense for them to schedule joint patrols once in a while. It kept the streets safe and made friends. So he'd heard anyway.
Tonight, Armsmaster would be patrolling with Brandish. The stern woman flying the route while he followed on the ground. Glory Girl would undoubtedly gravitate toward Gallant anyway, so he put the two together. Thankfully it worked in his favour, Gallant tended to rein in Glory Girl's temper when needed. Shielder was unavailable due to his schooling, but Laserdream had volunteered to take his place. He figured he'd send her along with Aegis and Kid Win. With a more central location assignment, they could provide backup to any other Wards patrol quicker that way.
After squaring the assignments with the Director, Colin went to the Wards common room to give them the plan.
"She was cute, in a shy sort of way," Laserdream said as he entered. "Totally your type, Chris."
"Isn't it a little creepy to play matchmaker for high schoolers?" Kid win protested, blushing as red as his costume.
"Nah," she said. "Its all in good fun. Just saying, cute nerdy girl, might want to keep an eye out."
"What did she want with Jules Hilbert anyway?" Aegis asked.
"She said he was a family friend. Needed advice on a story she was writing."
Something twigged at Colin's mind. He called up a search program for one Jules Hilbert as he made his way to the front of the room. Aegis got everyone's attention for him.
"I have the patrols for tonight," Colin began. "Vista. . ."
The search completed, showing the details of the professor, and expert in fiction and mythology. Hmm.
"And Browbeat will patrol from Third to Lincoln. Shadow Stalker is on the console." Said girl groaned.
"Aegis, Kid Win, and Laserdream will patrol from the boardwalk down to Lord's Street, you have more ground to cover so stay vigilant. Clockblocker, Gallant, and Glory Girl will take the area south-west of Vermont until you hit Geraldine ave. Thank you, and stay safe out there."
He left to get ready for his own patrol.
'Maybe this Professor could help with our Script problem.'
The cool night air rushed past Colin's face as he turned, smooth as silk, onto the crossroad.
'Nice to be appreciated if nothing else,' He thought. Script's familiar diction had started up just after he'd gotten on Main street. So far it had been normal enough for her usual ramblings. There did seem to be more of it , though.
Brandish sat behind him, her warmth wasted on his armoured back.
'I don't need to think of her like that, Script, thank you.'
The night seemed like any other, a simple patrol to calm the simmering sentiments of the gangs' sordid servants.
'Alliteration? Really?'
But beneath the thin veneer, something else awaited them.
"Script is doing her thing again Brandish, be on the lookout."
Awaiting them was a storm, teeth bared in defiance. The opening salvo in a barrage of nightmarish proportions. The beginning of the end.
"God fucking dammit! Stop it with this shit and tell me what's going on!" Armsmaster yelled, startling his partner with the break in his behaviour.
"Armsmaster?" she asked, wary.
"Give me a moment," he said. Okay, assuming deliberate keywords and cape fights where did this lead. One predicted shitstorm, check. Storm, teeth, opening, nightmarish, end.
Leaving out that last one (he really didn't want to consider what that meant) left him with four clues. Storm: could mean Stormtiger, alludes to both the salvo phrase and the 'simmering sentiments', Teeth: He really didn't want to think the Teeth, but it was hard not to. Alternatively could mean a changer (Lung, Hookwolf, or the like would fit). Opening: a strategic attack? Or a literal opening, a beginning to something. Nightmarish: Great. Either total catastrophe or more empire capes. Night and Fog maybe? Those two never went anywhere alone.
"Armsmaster to Console: alert all patrols of possible Empire action tonight. Additionally, alert Dauntless and Militia to take additional care near ABB territory."
"You got it," came the frustrated voice of Shadow Stalker. Come to think of it, he still had his suspicions about her and Winslow. Something wasn't right there. Maybe-
"Contact!" Velocity said over the radio. "I've got Cricket and Stormtiger leading an assault on Merchant territory, I count twelve normals armed with small arms."
"Troopers are on the way," Sophia's voice called out. "Got a location?"
"Dockside district, Anchor road and Lord's Street."
"Got it," She said.
"Brandish and I are moving to assist. Engage only when necessary, Velocity. Assault, Battery, you two take over our route. These two are followers people, this isn't the whole cast for tonight."
'And Script is slowly infecting my vocabulary, great evil plan.'
Armsmaster swerved in the road, turning sharply as he flicked on the emergency lights. He gunned it, the bike accelerating at a safe, but effective, rate. Brandish just clenched her arms tighter, muttering about damn tinker-tech bikes. He was mildly offended. The work he'd put into counteracting the g-force...bah, wasted on these Luddites
It was going to be a long night.
It had definitely been a long night. Taylor hadn't expected to find some huge Empire offensive when she tried to use her Foreshadowing. The plot thickens.
'Bad joke, Taylor.'
She hadn't caught a wink of sleep, too caught up in the awe of the fight. She had faithfully written everything that had happened, getting swept up in the excitement occasionally. Sometimes she felt like she was anticipating every move, others like she was barely keeping up. Her wrists were unbearably sore by the end of it, and she had the beginnings of a massive headache. But that what happens when you stay up all night, serves her right.
It hadn't been a complete disaster, though, None of the heroes had gotten seriously hurt, though a few of the gang members had been driven to the ER. It would have been worse if they hadn't been forewarned. And Taylor knew she could do better, with practice she would be able to help them so much more. She smiled up at her ceiling, the lazy blade of the fan finally lulling her to sleep. It had been a good day.
It had been a complete disaster. Hookwolf had apparently taken offence to his halberd, and Squealer had taken the thing for a joyride, only stopping when Miss Militia had managed to use a net-launcher on her. And the worst part was Script. The whole time, every little detail was thrown back at him like he hadn't already known.
He swung down like a giant, halberd blade scouring the earth in place of flesh.
"I know I missed, dammit!"
Skidmark had the gall to ask if he was tripping. Colin's instinctive reply "My balance is fine." just made the Merchant laugh harder, nearly collapsing from a lack of air. The joke was on them, though. Dauntless and Velocity had managed to subdue Mush and Squealer in the mean time.
Overall, the night wasn't bad. And to be frank, he didn't mind the upcoming time in the labs. It would give him and Dragon a chance to go over some joint designs. In the meantime, he would use one of his spare weapons. The advantage of forethought.
The Wards, in the meantime, had stopped two robberies and a small folder of misdemeanours. Not glorious, he knew from experience, but time spent learning the job right was time well spent. And judging by Aegis' after-action reports, the boy needed to spend more time there. Colin sighed.
Script was becoming more and more of an unknown, he was beginning to doubt his earlier assessment of her. She had warned him of the skirmish, in her own obnoxious way, but he still thought she had some ulterior motives in play. Time would tell.
"Colin?" Came a pleasant Newfoundlander accent from his computer.
"Hello Dragon," he said. "I apologise, I'm still going over the Wards' reports. WE can begin now, though, if you'd like."
"Sure," she said. "But I have something else as well." Colin raised his eyebrow.
"You remember the PHO account belonging to Script?"
"Sure. The judge signed the warrant?"
"He did. I've already gone over the contents. I've sent a report directly to you and Director Piggot, but I thought you might want to discuss it in person."
He stood up, making his way over to the coffee machine in the corner of his office.
"Well," Dragon began. "WintersOrange was created as both Email and Username three months ago. The emails only contain messages from two sources. One is PHO."
"So a dead end."
"The other is another burner-account. The message was deleted from Script's account and the sender was blocked. The data is a bit corrupted, but I'm fairly certain it was hate mail."
Colin wished he could be surprised, he really did, but he knew all too well how cruel humans could be. A half-forgotten blueprint crossed his mind, 'A world where everyone could be happy', but he banished it as quickly as it came.
"I see. Let me know if you find out anything else," he said. The Canadian woman nodded behind her screen. "Now then, about the nano-thorn project. . ."
He didn't sleep for another six hours.
Wednesday morning came all too fast, greeting Taylor's bleary, swollen eyes with a benevolent glare. She felt like curling up in her bed, doing whatever she could to get rid of the feeling of dread she'd gotten when she wrote the message for Colin. It was an ice-cold dagger that slipped into her bones and wouldn't come out. Letting out a breath made shaky from last night's crying Taylor stood and shuffled down the hall to get ready.
The empty table wasn't a surprise. A note from her dad told her there was food in the fridge and that he had to go in early for work. Her dad had always been the better cook out of the two of them, Taylor had never been able to tap into her mother's culinary grace. Annette Hebert had always claimed that her husband was a close second when it came to the kitchen.
The meal still tasted bland.
Wednesday at Winslow was. . . off. She couldn't really explain why, but from the moment Taylor stepped foot in the hall that morning everything seemed dull. Not in the 'Stupid' or 'Boring' sense either, more like every barb was tamed or every shove held back to just a touch. Clearly, the attitudes of the students had not changed, so what had? Moreover, what had caused Gladly to intervene during his class. It was unheard of. Taylor had a laugh over the fact that 'Teachers doing their jobs' was grounds for an X-Files episode.
She was glad when the bell rang. As bad as Winslow was in her life it was at least constant. With that gone, the only constant in her life was a lack of parental guidance.
Her walk home was filled with questions. For all that she wrote about him, she really knew nothing about Colin. Did he have a favourite food? What did he do to unwind? Did he have feelings for any of the Protectorate members? Wait, scratch that last one.
She sighed. It wasn't like she was back to square one with her power, she'd never left it. She needed answers and expertise that she didn't have.
But she knew who might.
The campus of Brockton Bay's resident university wasn't impressive, but it more than made up for that in sheer size. It was shuffled off politely to the south-west of the city, about an hours ride on the bus. BBU owned the surrounding lands, and years of police and PRT training drills had given rise to a suburb of semi-permanent structures nestled in the woods. The paint-splattered walls flashed by between the foliage as the number 16 thundered towards the University terminal.
Taylor's mother had worked here, time gone by, and had made friends with other professors in the English department. On some occasions, her mother had brought her here, and she'd met them. Professor Hilbert had been all too happy to give her some pointers after Taylor started writing, it was a mix of his enthusiasm and the memory of Fortuna, that sad girl from the park, and had been her first inspirations. She hadn't heard from him since the funeral, but hopefully, he'd still be here.
The terminal stretched out in a narrow 'U' shape. Small, covered shacks providing shelter when there was rain. The directory board simply referred to each building by name, so Taylor started towards the Administration centre for directions. She supposed she might have made a sight, clearly too young to be here academically.
'And if I hadn't tried to stay with Emma,' she thought involuntarily. 'I might have been taking lectures here through Arcadia.'
She trudged past a group of rich-looking kids, pointedly ignoring the completely Caucasian make-up of the group. Even here this was still Brockton Bay, the thugs just wore nicer clothes. She lost herself in thought for a moment, enjoying a walk in another time, but was tripped out of her daydream, literally, when she crashed into a blonde girl going the other way.
"OhgodI'msosorryareyouokay?" Taylor blurted, torn between finding her glasses and trying to help her older girl up. Ultimately she did neither, the young woman standing easily and helping her up instead. The snort of amusement was expected and usually preceded a scathing quip about 'Clumsy Hebert' back in school.
"I'm fine," said the grinning blonde. "'Tis but a scratch!" after making sure Taylor was okay to stand, she began to look for the fallen glasses.
"I'm still so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and then I hit you and-"
"Chill," she said with a kind, exasperated look. "It takes more than that to do any damage, believe me. Ah, here we go."
The woman rubbed the dirt off her glasses and handed them back to Taylor, who put them on only to gasp at who this was.
"There's the look I was waiting for," said Crystal Pelham. "So, to re-cap: Whoops. Hello, nice to meet you. And we're both okay?"
"Uh. Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Taylor said, blood rushing to her cheeks in embarrassment.
"So either the freshmen are getting smaller each year, or you're looking for something. Am I right?" Crystal said, cocksure grin still firmly in place.
"An old friend of my mothers, cause I don't, uh, go here," Taylor said.
'Oh god, kill me now.'
"Professor Hilbert. From the English department."
Crystal's smile got even wider, was that a side effect of the fame or was she just naturally bubbly?
"Jules?" she said. "Cool, I've only had one class with him so far but he's a pretty awesome guy. Super knowledgeable, like Wikipedia tier."
Was this her Deus ex Machina? Seriously the chances of her running, actually and factually, into Crystal Pelham only to find out that one of her professors was the man Taylor was trying to find?
'Fuck it. Powers.'
"Yeah, that's um kind of why I'm here," Taylor said. "I've been trying to write this story, but I need some advice. I thought that since he's a friend. . . maybe. . ."
"Oh, totally," Crystal said, ponytail bobbing just as wildly as her head. "Jules is the kind of teacher who actually likes to teach. You could be a total bonehead and he'd just patiently explain Herakles' labours. He's nice like that, just kind of- Well he's blunt about stuff, just don't take it personally."
"Um, yeah." succinct. Well done Taylor. "Could you tell me where to find him?"
"I'll do you one better," she said.
'Wait, what?'
If one were to look inside the head of one Taylor Hebert at that moment the prevailing thought would be: 'How the fuck physics, why?!' Followed closely by: 'Flying is cool. No wonder New Wave was so well liked.'
Crystal dropped her off on the roof of one of the larger buildings and wrote a room number on Taylor's hand with a marker.
"Don't worry, it washes off with water!" She shouted as she flew off.
'Fuck it. Capes.'
Professor Jules Hilbert had had his tenure since before Medhall had even existed. He'd worked in BBU longer than most of his students had been alive. He'd given lectures to Crystal Pelham (and learned to leave a window open in case of emergencies). On the whole, he usually wasn't taken by surprise.
One also doesn't have the daughter of a deceased protege come by everyday. Especially not if you haven't seen her in years. Jules took it in stride, though, and instead of gazing awkwardly at the young girl, he simply smiled.
"Hello again, Taylor. Something I can help you with?"
He knew it was the right choice when Taylor's eyes misted up, a wavering smile pasted to her face.
Jules Hilbert's office was exactly like Taylor had remembered it. From the hundreds of books to the small TV tucked away on one shelf. He'd made her a cup of tea to help calm her down. The smell made her think of all the times her mother had debated with the older man, with Taylor looking on in awe, trying to absorb whatever she could.
So," the professor said after a few moments. "What can I do for you, Taylor?"
"I need some advice on. . . a project of mine. I don't know where to, uh, take it. Or how much I need to put down."
Jules Hilbert looked into her eyes briefly and then shrugged. Then he went into full lecture mode.
The question, he said, was the scope of the work. Then came the genre followed by the plot itself. Twenty minutes into it Taylor realised this wasn't going to get her anywhere. She wouldn't be able to learn if she wasn't truthful.
"Mr Hilbert," she began, hands wringing in her lap. "The truth is. I. I'm a-"
"Taylor," the professor said, cutting her off. "I knew your mother for a long time, and I've known you. I won't force you to say a word, but rest assured I know how to keep a secret."
Taylor nodded, staring at her half-finished tea deeply.
"I think I'm a parahuman."
"hmm. While it wasn't last on my list, it wasn't first either," Hilbert said. "Ah, and my condolences. Ms Pelham has told me some of what one has to go through in order to get a parahuman ability, I must say I don't envy it." Taylor just nodded, hugging the cup in her hands.
"Well, I assume something of my expertise is required, yes? Are you looking for similar powers in fiction or myth? Some capes like to go from a classical theme."
"No, it's more that my powers are your field of expertise," Taylor said. The professor gestured for her to continue. "It's like I'm writing a story, but it's real. The character I thought I made up is actually a hero. I'm really, really, confused and I just want to know what I can do, how I can help."
"Hmm. It sounds like a mental ability, The PRT calls them 'Thinkers'? No matter. Labels are labels, nothing more or less. It's your ability that matters here. Tell me how it works, what you know so far."
"Well," she began." It's like this."
"So this 'Narrative', have you tried applying it to anyone else?" Hilbert said.
"not yet, why?"
"Well it would say a lot about the scope," he said. "Both of your ability and of the story you are seeing."
"Like if it's an epic or not?"
"Precisely. Perhaps you can see the stories of anyone you put your mind to, or maybe it only works with those involved. The certainty you felt writing Armsmaster's life. . ."
"Col-"
"I don't want to know his name!" Hilbert snapped. "I know your powers see through identities completely, but please keep such information to yourself. Part of the guidelines of the community, so to speak.
"Now, I want you to pick some people at random. From across the country. Anyone from a guy at Seven Eleven to Legend. See if you feel that same certainty. Additionally, see if you can use your power without writing anything, observe the effects."
'And my powers get me homework,' Taylor thought. She was simultaneously happy and a bit bemused at this.
"Also pay attention to the degrees of separation. How distinct is everything you write? It could give you some benchmarks."
"Thank you professor Hilbert," Taylor said, looking at the owl-shaped clock on the wall. "This has been a huge help, but I've taken enough of your time and I should probably go home."
The older man smiled, gathering up a few textbooks and theses for her to take.
"It was my pleasure, Ms Hebert. Don't be a stranger." It really showed the generational gap when people used outdated saying like that. Nevertheless, Taylor smiled and waved goodbye, beginning the long trek home.
It was good, Colin reflected, that the Protectorate maintained good relations with New Wave. Despite their differences they had been stalwart allies for a long time. With similar approaches regarding the law and accountability to the public, it made sense for them to schedule joint patrols once in a while. It kept the streets safe and made friends. So he'd heard anyway.
Tonight, Armsmaster would be patrolling with Brandish. The stern woman flying the route while he followed on the ground. Glory Girl would undoubtedly gravitate toward Gallant anyway, so he put the two together. Thankfully it worked in his favour, Gallant tended to rein in Glory Girl's temper when needed. Shielder was unavailable due to his schooling, but Laserdream had volunteered to take his place. He figured he'd send her along with Aegis and Kid Win. With a more central location assignment, they could provide backup to any other Wards patrol quicker that way.
After squaring the assignments with the Director, Colin went to the Wards common room to give them the plan.
"She was cute, in a shy sort of way," Laserdream said as he entered. "Totally your type, Chris."
"Isn't it a little creepy to play matchmaker for high schoolers?" Kid win protested, blushing as red as his costume.
"Nah," she said. "Its all in good fun. Just saying, cute nerdy girl, might want to keep an eye out."
"What did she want with Jules Hilbert anyway?" Aegis asked.
"She said he was a family friend. Needed advice on a story she was writing."
Something twigged at Colin's mind. He called up a search program for one Jules Hilbert as he made his way to the front of the room. Aegis got everyone's attention for him.
"I have the patrols for tonight," Colin began. "Vista. . ."
The search completed, showing the details of the professor, and expert in fiction and mythology. Hmm.
"And Browbeat will patrol from Third to Lincoln. Shadow Stalker is on the console." Said girl groaned.
"Aegis, Kid Win, and Laserdream will patrol from the boardwalk down to Lord's Street, you have more ground to cover so stay vigilant. Clockblocker, Gallant, and Glory Girl will take the area south-west of Vermont until you hit Geraldine ave. Thank you, and stay safe out there."
He left to get ready for his own patrol.
'Maybe this Professor could help with our Script problem.'
The cool night air rushed past Colin's face as he turned, smooth as silk, onto the crossroad.
'Nice to be appreciated if nothing else,' He thought. Script's familiar diction had started up just after he'd gotten on Main street. So far it had been normal enough for her usual ramblings. There did seem to be more of it , though.
Brandish sat behind him, her warmth wasted on his armoured back.
'I don't need to think of her like that, Script, thank you.'
The night seemed like any other, a simple patrol to calm the simmering sentiments of the gangs' sordid servants.
'Alliteration? Really?'
But beneath the thin veneer, something else awaited them.
"Script is doing her thing again Brandish, be on the lookout."
Awaiting them was a storm, teeth bared in defiance. The opening salvo in a barrage of nightmarish proportions. The beginning of the end.
"God fucking dammit! Stop it with this shit and tell me what's going on!" Armsmaster yelled, startling his partner with the break in his behaviour.
"Armsmaster?" she asked, wary.
"Give me a moment," he said. Okay, assuming deliberate keywords and cape fights where did this lead. One predicted shitstorm, check. Storm, teeth, opening, nightmarish, end.
Leaving out that last one (he really didn't want to consider what that meant) left him with four clues. Storm: could mean Stormtiger, alludes to both the salvo phrase and the 'simmering sentiments', Teeth: He really didn't want to think the Teeth, but it was hard not to. Alternatively could mean a changer (Lung, Hookwolf, or the like would fit). Opening: a strategic attack? Or a literal opening, a beginning to something. Nightmarish: Great. Either total catastrophe or more empire capes. Night and Fog maybe? Those two never went anywhere alone.
"Armsmaster to Console: alert all patrols of possible Empire action tonight. Additionally, alert Dauntless and Militia to take additional care near ABB territory."
"You got it," came the frustrated voice of Shadow Stalker. Come to think of it, he still had his suspicions about her and Winslow. Something wasn't right there. Maybe-
"Contact!" Velocity said over the radio. "I've got Cricket and Stormtiger leading an assault on Merchant territory, I count twelve normals armed with small arms."
"Troopers are on the way," Sophia's voice called out. "Got a location?"
"Dockside district, Anchor road and Lord's Street."
"Got it," She said.
"Brandish and I are moving to assist. Engage only when necessary, Velocity. Assault, Battery, you two take over our route. These two are followers people, this isn't the whole cast for tonight."
'And Script is slowly infecting my vocabulary, great evil plan.'
Armsmaster swerved in the road, turning sharply as he flicked on the emergency lights. He gunned it, the bike accelerating at a safe, but effective, rate. Brandish just clenched her arms tighter, muttering about damn tinker-tech bikes. He was mildly offended. The work he'd put into counteracting the g-force...bah, wasted on these Luddites
It was going to be a long night.
It had definitely been a long night. Taylor hadn't expected to find some huge Empire offensive when she tried to use her Foreshadowing. The plot thickens.
'Bad joke, Taylor.'
She hadn't caught a wink of sleep, too caught up in the awe of the fight. She had faithfully written everything that had happened, getting swept up in the excitement occasionally. Sometimes she felt like she was anticipating every move, others like she was barely keeping up. Her wrists were unbearably sore by the end of it, and she had the beginnings of a massive headache. But that what happens when you stay up all night, serves her right.
It hadn't been a complete disaster, though, None of the heroes had gotten seriously hurt, though a few of the gang members had been driven to the ER. It would have been worse if they hadn't been forewarned. And Taylor knew she could do better, with practice she would be able to help them so much more. She smiled up at her ceiling, the lazy blade of the fan finally lulling her to sleep. It had been a good day.
It had been a complete disaster. Hookwolf had apparently taken offence to his halberd, and Squealer had taken the thing for a joyride, only stopping when Miss Militia had managed to use a net-launcher on her. And the worst part was Script. The whole time, every little detail was thrown back at him like he hadn't already known.
He swung down like a giant, halberd blade scouring the earth in place of flesh.
"I know I missed, dammit!"
Skidmark had the gall to ask if he was tripping. Colin's instinctive reply "My balance is fine." just made the Merchant laugh harder, nearly collapsing from a lack of air. The joke was on them, though. Dauntless and Velocity had managed to subdue Mush and Squealer in the mean time.
Overall, the night wasn't bad. And to be frank, he didn't mind the upcoming time in the labs. It would give him and Dragon a chance to go over some joint designs. In the meantime, he would use one of his spare weapons. The advantage of forethought.
The Wards, in the meantime, had stopped two robberies and a small folder of misdemeanours. Not glorious, he knew from experience, but time spent learning the job right was time well spent. And judging by Aegis' after-action reports, the boy needed to spend more time there. Colin sighed.
Script was becoming more and more of an unknown, he was beginning to doubt his earlier assessment of her. She had warned him of the skirmish, in her own obnoxious way, but he still thought she had some ulterior motives in play. Time would tell.
"Colin?" Came a pleasant Newfoundlander accent from his computer.
"Hello Dragon," he said. "I apologise, I'm still going over the Wards' reports. WE can begin now, though, if you'd like."
"Sure," she said. "But I have something else as well." Colin raised his eyebrow.
"You remember the PHO account belonging to Script?"
"Sure. The judge signed the warrant?"
"He did. I've already gone over the contents. I've sent a report directly to you and Director Piggot, but I thought you might want to discuss it in person."
He stood up, making his way over to the coffee machine in the corner of his office.
"Well," Dragon began. "WintersOrange was created as both Email and Username three months ago. The emails only contain messages from two sources. One is PHO."
"So a dead end."
"The other is another burner-account. The message was deleted from Script's account and the sender was blocked. The data is a bit corrupted, but I'm fairly certain it was hate mail."
Colin wished he could be surprised, he really did, but he knew all too well how cruel humans could be. A half-forgotten blueprint crossed his mind, 'A world where everyone could be happy', but he banished it as quickly as it came.
"I see. Let me know if you find out anything else," he said. The Canadian woman nodded behind her screen. "Now then, about the nano-thorn project. . ."
He didn't sleep for another six hours.
Inciting Incident
- Location
- Canada
March 3rd, 2011
Taylor sat at her desk, trying to get a glimpse of her first prediction. Admittedly she was a little distracted, but she had time and didn't really worry too much about it.
The last two weeks had been amazing. The day of weirdness in Winslow had continued, with the faculty actually willing to do something for once. Whenever Emma, Sophia, or the sycophant of the week tried to start something a teacher always seemed to materialise out of thin air. Taylor now had a reputation as a teacher's pet, but it was much preferable to the alternative.
Her experiments with her power had progressed moderately well. She was getting much better at anticipating Colin, allowing her to write his story slightly ahead of the present. The extra seconds of leeway had been well used by the veteran hero, turning him from a dangerous combatant to nigh untouchable at times. The other experiments hadn't gone so great. She hadn't been able to get the same clarity with anyone else. Professor Hilbert had theorised that she might need to build a profile first, get 'attuned' to the protagonist so to speak. She was working on Miss Militia, for now, the heroine's long career in the bay gave her plenty of material to work with.
She was slowly figuring out her 'Plotting' ability, as Hilbert put it, allowing her to look neutrally into the future without putting pen to paper. It was horribly vague, more like the kernels of a story line than anything conclusive. But then she supposed any precog would have the same problem. She'd figure it out eventually.
Between all that, she had hardly felt the time go by. Colin's life had almost become her own, in a 'really not as creepy as it sounds I swear' kind of way. She had this odd craving for super dark coffee recently, at first she thought it was a side-effect of her power, but then some research showed that this sort of thing was fully acceptable for any author, it just fell in the eccentric normative most writers had.
She tried another line.
The Shattering was-
Nope, still nothing. She sighed. She sometimes wished she could be a proper Cape, like Alexandria or Colin, instead of whatever she counted as.
'Are you still a Cape if you don't have a costume? Maybe I'm a Rogue?'
Taylor mentally marked another two tallies for the 'existential questions' tab and wondered if everyone had these moments. Probably just her.
"And that should about do it, Colin, just put the stabiliser behind the left motor."
Between his friend's calm voice and the work he was doing, Colin felt like life couldn't get better. They'd spent hours every day for weeks getting it just right, truthfully, the nano-thorn was ready for use after five days, the Tinker board signing off on it as an afterthought after seeing whose names were on the form. But the balance hadn't felt quite right. Then he wanted slightly more output in order to increase the field size, etc. They'd had a blast, or he did anyway. Dragon seemed the same as always, kind and helpful. He hoped she got some enjoyment out of this.
'I wouldn't have second guessed this a month ago,' he thought. It was amazing how much Script had changed in his life. Oh, they were still searching for her, sure, but for once, Colin was all too happy to have his theory proven wrong. His arrests had increased, team injuries had gone down, and his personal relationships with the team had improved.
"Dragon," Colin said as he absently cleaned a soldering iron. "Thank you."
The woman gave him a curious glance, at once frustrated and happy, almost as if-
Could she have feelings for him? Colin wondered.
-And there's the downside.
"Dammit, Script." Dragon's face shifted to concern.
"Are you alright, Colin?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he said, thankful that his beard covered up most of his blush. "Just more rambling. Caught me by surprise, that's all."
She opened her mouth as if to disagree, but stopped abruptly. Wide eyes turned to him before settling into her 'game face' as Ethan would put it.
"I have to go, I'm sorry."
"I'll still be here," he said giving her a smile over his coffee cup. "Do your thing, hero."
With one last grin, her video feed cut out, leaving Colin alone in the lab once more. With the nano-thorn project out of the way, he should probably clean up a bit. Maybe re-organize. The coffee machine was simply not efficient on the other side of the room, but space was limited. It was the simple things in life, he decided, that were the best to tinker with.
Taylor couldn't help but grin as she put the final punctuation on the sentence. She knew Colin was oblivious, but that was too much. She banished the shoulder angel screaming "Master, Master!" with a thought, she wasn't doing anything wrong. She was helping.
'Oh, god I sound like the Shippers.' And with that thought, she stood up. Her cracking back and stiff muscles were a testament to how much time she'd spent trying to expand her powers. She needed a walk, or coffee, or both. She counted her money in her head, deciding that one time would be okay, and set off for the Boardwalk. There was a Java bar with the best americano she'd had yet. Not that she'd had many, being mainly a tea drinker, but still. She took the front steps two at a time, skipping over the loose one. Feeling bold, she tied her jacket around her waist letting the warm breeze tickle her skin. Standing straight didn't feel like a burden anymore, and she relished in that feeling all the way to the harbour.
An hour later she was on her way home, coffee secure in hand. She'd seen Colin, Armsmaster she corrected, drive by earlier. A giddy part of her almost wanted to wave, but wasn't it the author's part to sit happily in the background? Instead, she congratulated herself on her progress thus far and was determined that more would come.
She was too wrapped up in her thoughts to see green eyes follow her down the Boardwalk. And too happy to notice the construction van tailing her as she walked home. Nothing happened that night, and that in itself was significant.
With the email account now a dead end (pending further investigation) Colin turned to literature. He had thought to start with the classics, but then decided he should ask the wards to see what was popular with teenagers. He'd had mixed results.
"The Maggie Holt series is pretty good," Missy had said. She'd tried her hardest to look disinterested, but Colin could tell she really wanted to go on a spiel about it. He quickly thanked her and went to the next person.
"Why the fu- heck would I read outside of school?" Sophia said, frowning with her lip curled. Colin's behavioural training pegged this as a 'truth' of sorts, as if the concept had honestly never occurred to her. He bit off a retort about it improving many aspects of her life and simply nodded. Maybe the boys would have better ideas?
Dennis, it seemed, was a veritable bibliophile. It was a mixed blessing in Colin's opinion. With a lack of input from Chris (due to tinkering) and the absence of Carlos (family event),he provided a substantial list. The downside was that they all belonged to one of two categories. Either it was a military sci-fi thriller or an epic fantasy. Nothing really mindful or socially conscientious there. Consigned to a lack of material, he started back to his lab.
"Well, I've always liked the classics," Said Browbeat from the seat next to Dennis. "Crystal said this girl was talking with a university professor, so she might too." When the hell did he get there?
"Thanks," he said. He walked back to his lab.
'Well maybe my first instinct was correct,' he thought. 'I'll have to thank Browbeat later.'
He didn't remember to do so, but the advice went to good use.
BBU was a large campus, Colin mused as he got off his civilian motorcycle. A bit weathered, and not in a good way, but still impressive. When Dragon had gotten back, she asked him if he'd looked up Professor Hilbert yet. He'd meant to, but work and tinkering had taken up his time as usual. He'd made his way here, however, and quickly found the directory.
It didn't help.
He then thought about running a search from his helmet, but then remembered he was here as Colin Wallis, not Armsmaster.
'I don't suppose you could help, Script?' he thought to himself.
He didn't get an answer.
In the end, Colin trudged over to the Campus Administration. The ten minutes he waited in line were spent musing about how best to optimise reception. He couldn't come to an effective conclusion before he was next, but kept the notes tucked away.
Armed with the office number of Jules Hilbert, Colin began his trek. He found the professor grading papers. He looked up as Colin knocked on the open door. With table held a collection of the classics, as well as more modern literary marvels. A luxurious reading chair sat by the window, lamp at the ready for late nights.
"Can I help you?" the older man said.
"Yes, I believe so," Colin said. "I've been afflicted with a curious issue." Hilbert raised an eyebrow behind horn-rimmed glasses, waving for him to continue.
"I've been hearing voices."
"My colleagues in the next wing over will be more than happy to help. Good luck to you."
Colin faintly remembered that the next wing was the psychology department.
"No, I mean a voice," Colin said. "A young woman, possibly in her early twenties. She's narrating my life, every significant detail. She's a Master."
"Then I would suggest the PRT" Hilbert said, sliding the graded paper into the next pile.
"I did. They confirmed influence by a parahuman, but since nothing illegal beyond an invasion of privacy occurred they won't do anything."
The professor sighed, plucking his glasses from his face and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"So what do you want me to do?" he asked.
"She is narrating my life like a story, foreshadowing, allegory, it's all there. I want to know what kind of story it is that she's writing." Colin tried not to sound desperate, but having very few leads made that a bit difficult.
"Fine." Hilbert said as if this grandiose story was no more interesting than saying "The sky is blue".
"Just like that?"
"This last decade or so has been very enlightening. Four years back I saw a guy collapse during a mid-term and wake up able to literally devour knowledge. The definition of weird has changed."
The professor put his glasses back on, grabbing a clipboard and pen, and walked around the desk to sit on the front.
"To begin, we need to answer some basic questions."
"Of course," Colin said. It would save time drastically.
He was wrong. So very wrong, the deceivingly spry professor had been pacing for the last half hour, quizzing him on his relations, religious inclination and snack food preferences. After he finally lost his patience and asked how this was helping, the professor replied that he'd ruled out: Greek literature, Any of the Grimm brothers tales, half of Chinese folklore, and that Colin was definitely not a Golem. What a relief that was to hear.
He sighed, as tedious as this was the professor was actually helping. Having identified himself as the protagonist and cross-referenced the theories of collective storytelling with the current situation in Brockton Bay had prepared him quite a bit. They talked a bit more before Colin excused himself. It had been an enlightening afternoon, but he'd spent enough time away from the 'office'.
Taylor leaned back from the typewriter, considering what she'd written. She hadn't felt as sure about it as she had writing Colin, but it had been better than the rest. It was a near thing, this experiment. She'd tried writing the Triumvirate and gotten nothing from them. She'd sat in convenience stores and written about the employees to no avail. But this man, seemingly random, whom she'd never met or even had any clue of existence before the sentence, did. It felt right.
As he left the gas Station, Jacob paused. Maybe it was the smell in the air, or a tremor in the earth, or even a voice on the wind. But for whatever the reason, he looked to the east and smiled at the oncoming storm.
It felt right, but she really wished it didn't sound so ominous. She began to pack for school, the paper laying on the table, but couldn't bring herself to leave.
'Damn cliffhangers,' she thought to herself. She tapped her long fingers gently on her desk and tossed her backpack on her bed. A quick search of her closet dug up the typewriter's case, and she swiftly packaged it for travel. Counting bus fare, she started towards the number 16 once again.
Colin's return to work was supremely uneventful. A backlog of reports and expense claims awaited him, and his chronic perfectionism wouldn't let him skip over the details.
'Curse me for being good at my job,' he thought. The lamentation didn't get in the way, however, and he sipped at a steady pace from his coffee mug as he went. It was shaping up to be a four-cup day, and he needed to stay on schedule.
Dauntless and Velocity had been investigating several districts, sussing out the clues for a bigger picture. Hannah had a brilliant tactical mind, and between the two of them, he was confident that they could anticipate the fallout from this brewing gang conflict.
Triumph had noted an increase in suspicious activity around the dockside districts, but that was hardly surprising given the state of things. Lung was growing restless, but Colin had something in mind for that eventuality.
And Script. Well, if she truly was on their side, she could be invaluable to him. If not, Colin was always prepared for the worst. That being said, Script's earlier prediction had been sent along to the Protectorate thinkers, it had come back positive. Colin had settled on devoting a small portion of his time researching what had been said.
In order of Doomsday down to Drat, Colin figured that it could mean an Endbringer attack, an all out Gang war, or a simple natural disaster. He was hoping for the latter, but had begun to plan for every outcome. Dragon's software had pegged the S9 as being in Oregon somewhere at the moment, and given their current pattern they'd stay on the west coast for a while. Mr Tocktic had assessed Script's prediction as "Between one and three months" so he felt safe in ruling them out at the moment.
Of the Endbringers, Leviathan was the obvious choice. He was next in the lineup, and Brockton Bay fit his normal target. He would have to brainstorm. Maybe Dragon and he could come up with countermeasures? Deployable water breaks or a device to alter the chemical state of the water? He shook his head, turning back to the haphazard pile of notes.
The Gang war was the most likely, unfortunately, and between the high levels of Empire capes and Lung being Lung, it would be a clusterfuck. He absently hoped Script would come through with more information. If she did, and it was verified, Colin might be able to get reinforcements on standby from another branch. Strider could be contacted at any time, so with a small enough group pre-selected...
Colin spent the next three hours going over the Protectorate members of each branch, comparing their abilities to the villains that would be active in such an event.
Someone was following her.
It had started when she'd gotten off of the bus. That spider-on-your-spine feeling of eyes tracking you. The unseen observer had followed her across campus, between buildings, and even followed her through an evasive pattern she'd thought up in case of trouble in the docks.
The worst part was that she had looked everywhere and seen, well not nobody (this was a busy campus after all) but not enough similarities to set off any alarms.
'It could be a Stranger,' Taylor thought. Did the Protectorate have any local Strangers? Would she even know if they did? What if a gang had noticed her? Did they know about her powers? It could be so much worse than-
"Hey!" "Gah!?"
Taylor spun, nearly dropping her precious cargo as she came face to face with a bemused Crystal. The older girl's lips were twitching at the corners, her nose crinkled, and her eyes had formed smile lines at the corners. Judging from the strangled sound coming from her throat, she was trying very hard not to laugh. The fact that her feet were only just now touching the ground pre-emptively answered the question of where she came from.
She failed her effort spectacularly, doubling over with her hands on her belly as the tinkling sound of her joy rang out in the courtyard. Taylor tried to say something, angry and flustered, and after a few false starts just growled at the heroine. That made her laugh harder.
Taylor considered leaving, but Crystal could fly. That made actually getting away kind of hard.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Crystal said between breaths. "Just, your face. You were. Trying so. Hard. To. To. I've never seen anyone react like. That before." Her apology was somewhat marred by her constant snickering, so Taylor crossed her arms and waited for the young woman to calm down. It gave her a good opportunity to try out her mother's signature glare. It wasn't very effective.
"Can I help you with something?" Taylor asked.
"Well, I just saw you around and realised I never got your name last time," she said.
'That's - ' "-Because you left me on a roof," Taylor said. 'Shit, I said that out loud.'
"Yeah," Crystal said. "That was my bad, sorry, I was kinda caught up in the whole rescue the damsel thing."
"You rescue damsels from walking?" Taylor raised an eyebrow. Crystal gave a snort, her slight trembles betrayed the blonde's wish to laugh again.
"Amy would love you," she said. "You could be the snark twins. It would be legendary."
And that was apparently how Crystal made friends. Of which Taylor was now one. No objections permitted. Her quest completely sidetracked, Taylor let herself get dragged to the campus cafe. The conversation was nice, if not exactly easy. Taylor was out of practice talking with people remotely her own age, but Crystal's enthusiasm more than made up the difference.
"So why are you here anyway?" Crystal asked. They had chosen a table in the back and ordered nice simple and strong coffees, Crystal had insisted of a pair of buttered croissants, but Taylor only nibbled at the pastry.
"Still talking with Professor Hilbert," Taylor said.
"In the middle of the day. A school day," Crystal deadpanned. "Do you have your GED?"
"No," Taylor said. "I'm just..."
"Playing hooky?" Crystal said. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna snitch. Not that I'd know who to even snitch to. We all get restless sometimes. I wish I'd been able to do that."
"You never did?"
"Kinda hard when everyone, literally everyone, knows who you are. And the mothers of New Wave do not take kindly to disappointment. Aunt Carol especially. Eric and I get off with a slap on the wrist in comparison."
'It's funny how different it is to talk with a hero for real. Colin was way less cool than I thought he'd be. Makes sense that New Wave would be different too.'
"So," Crystal said, snapping Taylor from her thoughts. "This story you're writing. What's it about?"
"An anti-social hero saving his hometown from a sort of vague future doom," Taylor said.
"Huh."
Crystal appeared to mull it over, like a gourmet deciding of the steak was too salty or too bland.
"It could work," she said finally. "To be honest, though, not a lot of people dig the whole 'end of the world' stuff these days."
It was an honest declaration and meant to help. But it still killed the conversation for a solid minute. Neither of them needed a reminder of why it was no longer fashionable.
"So, who's your lead?"
"Co-Conrad James, he's a smith. In the town of Franklin Hills. Like I said, clueless with people."
"Cool, cool. So what about the other roles?"
"What?"
"Well, you know, the love interest, the sidekick, the villain. You'll need a few of those. Comic relief maybe, though that depends on how serious you want to take the idea.... Taylor? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Crystal. You're a genius," Taylor said. The older girl preened and fidgeted a bit.
"Well thanks, but I don't-" She was cut off by a Taylor-shaped missile to the chest. The hug stunned her long enough for Taylor to make her escape unhindered.
"Gotta go, thanks bye!" Taylor said.
Her power had latched onto something there. And she was all too eager to find out what she could do with it.
Something was going on with his daughter.
It was the little things that made him wonder. He knew she skipped school, how couldn't he when he heard the clacking of the typewriter at mid-day. She wouldn't talk about school, "It's OK." she would say. "I'm doing fine." It was all lies, but he couldn't bring himself to take away whatever peace she'd made with herself. Or maybe he was just a coward.
Daniel Hebert, Danny to his friends, contemplated all this and more at the bottom of a glass of bourbon. A dramatic man might say that his daughter was his world, his life. Danny would say she was all he had left. Some would say he was depressed, Kurt was fond of saying he should talk to someone. He replied that he was being truthful. A job alone wasn't enough to sustain a man, especially not one as defunct as his. He would never love someone as fully as he had Annette, that had soured his few romantic exploits since her death. No, truthfully Taylor was the only thing he had worth living for, and she didn't trust him.
She'd run in an hour ago, looking excited as she loped up the stairs two at a time. She hadn't even noticed him. Danny sighed, reaching for the bourbon. He rolled the bottle between his palms, feeling it sweat in his hands, and put the cork back in. He'd had enough for one night. Danny set about the familiar tasks of the night. He turned off the lights, made sure the doors and windows were locked and made a note of what groceries to bring home tomorrow. He was just about to go up to bed when the doorbell rang.
Danny was surprised and concerned, decent folk just didn't go around at this time of night. He looked to make sure his flashlight was in easy reach, the tool was about a foot long and made of steel. It would make a good substitute for a bat.
The bell rang again, and Danny walked to the door. He looked out the eyehole to see an officer of the law. Relieved, Danny opened the door.
"Evening sir, I'm sorry to disturb you this late," the man said as he tipped his hat. "We had reports of suspicious activity in the area. Have you heard or seen anything strange?"
"No officer, nothing at all," Danny said.
"Thank you, sir," the officer said as he tipped his hat again. Was that a tattoo?
"That's a nice tattoo. Eagle?" Danny said. A lifetime of negotiations had taught him to control his voice well, the tightness in his throat disguised as he took a small step back, putting the flashlight in reach.
"Hawk actually," the man said with a smile. "Airbourne. I found a different calling, though."
The alarm bells rang with the volume of every cathedral in Rome as the officer raised his hand.
A small bang.
A short whistle.
A soft sting.
Then the man was standing on the wall as Danny felt his face rub the carpet. He tried to yell, to warn Taylor, but only a soft mumble escaped his lips. As two men in black suits stepped carefully through the door, Danny cried into the ground.
Failed again.
The sound of the doorbell woke Taylor from her fervour. Her dad was still up, though, so she didn't bother checking on it. She settled her hands at the keys once more and began again.
Lisa was scared. She had been for a long time.
The bell rang a second time. Her father must have been busy with something.
With the fear, came anger. At herself, at her employer.
Taylor smiled a bit, Crystal's offhanded comment had sparked something. She didn't need to know who she was writing, just who they were to the story. She had cast out to find that Jacob man again, beginning to write the Protagonist of a sub-plot, and had gotten Lisa instead. Not a bad thing, mind you since Taylor was pretty sure Lisa was in Brockton Bay. Maybe she needed help too?
She'd told him, she hadn't said anything to him.
Taylor frowned. Double checking with her power confirmed it, the certainty had been there. It was true. Was Lisa a parahuman too?
But she knew he would go after her, the girl.
She gasped. Was she a villain? The quiet sounds of her father speaking with a man died down. Then came the thump. It wasn't the sound of the front door closing like he'd heard so many times before. It sounded like someone had fallen down. She stood to go check when she heard the other noises. The rotten step on the front stairs squeaked twice with different cadences. She had a very bad feeling.
Acting quickly, Taylor got off her chair, ramming it under the doorknob to try and hold it shut. She turned back to the desk in a panic.
Help me help me! She wrote, her power refusing it. Colin wouldn't hear her, couldn't hear anything outside of the story. She sobbed, trying a different tactic as footsteps softly gathered in the hall.
Colin knew there were trying times ahead, she wrote. 'Damn you power! Why make this so complicated!'
The knob turned. The door cracked open, running into the chair and stopping with a thunk.
It would only get worse. The disappearances were only the beginning. 'oh, god, no no no'
The door rattled, the tempo increasing with the frustration of whoever was outside. For once, she cursed not having a cell phone. She could have called the cops, could have called Crystal, Emma, anyone!
From then on he would have to rely on his own instincts. 'shit shit, how do I get the point across?'
Help would be hard to come by. 'Vagueness not helping power!' The rattling became sharp impacts as the person outside slammed into the door.
Not for the first time, Colin would be powerless. Not for the last time, he would fail someone in need. His morality would doom him. 'no! That's not what I meant to say!'
The door broke down.
She screamed.
A small bang.
Then silence.
Taylor sat at her desk, trying to get a glimpse of her first prediction. Admittedly she was a little distracted, but she had time and didn't really worry too much about it.
The last two weeks had been amazing. The day of weirdness in Winslow had continued, with the faculty actually willing to do something for once. Whenever Emma, Sophia, or the sycophant of the week tried to start something a teacher always seemed to materialise out of thin air. Taylor now had a reputation as a teacher's pet, but it was much preferable to the alternative.
Her experiments with her power had progressed moderately well. She was getting much better at anticipating Colin, allowing her to write his story slightly ahead of the present. The extra seconds of leeway had been well used by the veteran hero, turning him from a dangerous combatant to nigh untouchable at times. The other experiments hadn't gone so great. She hadn't been able to get the same clarity with anyone else. Professor Hilbert had theorised that she might need to build a profile first, get 'attuned' to the protagonist so to speak. She was working on Miss Militia, for now, the heroine's long career in the bay gave her plenty of material to work with.
She was slowly figuring out her 'Plotting' ability, as Hilbert put it, allowing her to look neutrally into the future without putting pen to paper. It was horribly vague, more like the kernels of a story line than anything conclusive. But then she supposed any precog would have the same problem. She'd figure it out eventually.
Between all that, she had hardly felt the time go by. Colin's life had almost become her own, in a 'really not as creepy as it sounds I swear' kind of way. She had this odd craving for super dark coffee recently, at first she thought it was a side-effect of her power, but then some research showed that this sort of thing was fully acceptable for any author, it just fell in the eccentric normative most writers had.
She tried another line.
The Shattering was-
Nope, still nothing. She sighed. She sometimes wished she could be a proper Cape, like Alexandria or Colin, instead of whatever she counted as.
'Are you still a Cape if you don't have a costume? Maybe I'm a Rogue?'
Taylor mentally marked another two tallies for the 'existential questions' tab and wondered if everyone had these moments. Probably just her.
"And that should about do it, Colin, just put the stabiliser behind the left motor."
Between his friend's calm voice and the work he was doing, Colin felt like life couldn't get better. They'd spent hours every day for weeks getting it just right, truthfully, the nano-thorn was ready for use after five days, the Tinker board signing off on it as an afterthought after seeing whose names were on the form. But the balance hadn't felt quite right. Then he wanted slightly more output in order to increase the field size, etc. They'd had a blast, or he did anyway. Dragon seemed the same as always, kind and helpful. He hoped she got some enjoyment out of this.
'I wouldn't have second guessed this a month ago,' he thought. It was amazing how much Script had changed in his life. Oh, they were still searching for her, sure, but for once, Colin was all too happy to have his theory proven wrong. His arrests had increased, team injuries had gone down, and his personal relationships with the team had improved.
"Dragon," Colin said as he absently cleaned a soldering iron. "Thank you."
The woman gave him a curious glance, at once frustrated and happy, almost as if-
Could she have feelings for him? Colin wondered.
-And there's the downside.
"Dammit, Script." Dragon's face shifted to concern.
"Are you alright, Colin?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he said, thankful that his beard covered up most of his blush. "Just more rambling. Caught me by surprise, that's all."
She opened her mouth as if to disagree, but stopped abruptly. Wide eyes turned to him before settling into her 'game face' as Ethan would put it.
"I have to go, I'm sorry."
"I'll still be here," he said giving her a smile over his coffee cup. "Do your thing, hero."
With one last grin, her video feed cut out, leaving Colin alone in the lab once more. With the nano-thorn project out of the way, he should probably clean up a bit. Maybe re-organize. The coffee machine was simply not efficient on the other side of the room, but space was limited. It was the simple things in life, he decided, that were the best to tinker with.
Taylor couldn't help but grin as she put the final punctuation on the sentence. She knew Colin was oblivious, but that was too much. She banished the shoulder angel screaming "Master, Master!" with a thought, she wasn't doing anything wrong. She was helping.
'Oh, god I sound like the Shippers.' And with that thought, she stood up. Her cracking back and stiff muscles were a testament to how much time she'd spent trying to expand her powers. She needed a walk, or coffee, or both. She counted her money in her head, deciding that one time would be okay, and set off for the Boardwalk. There was a Java bar with the best americano she'd had yet. Not that she'd had many, being mainly a tea drinker, but still. She took the front steps two at a time, skipping over the loose one. Feeling bold, she tied her jacket around her waist letting the warm breeze tickle her skin. Standing straight didn't feel like a burden anymore, and she relished in that feeling all the way to the harbour.
An hour later she was on her way home, coffee secure in hand. She'd seen Colin, Armsmaster she corrected, drive by earlier. A giddy part of her almost wanted to wave, but wasn't it the author's part to sit happily in the background? Instead, she congratulated herself on her progress thus far and was determined that more would come.
She was too wrapped up in her thoughts to see green eyes follow her down the Boardwalk. And too happy to notice the construction van tailing her as she walked home. Nothing happened that night, and that in itself was significant.
With the email account now a dead end (pending further investigation) Colin turned to literature. He had thought to start with the classics, but then decided he should ask the wards to see what was popular with teenagers. He'd had mixed results.
"The Maggie Holt series is pretty good," Missy had said. She'd tried her hardest to look disinterested, but Colin could tell she really wanted to go on a spiel about it. He quickly thanked her and went to the next person.
"Why the fu- heck would I read outside of school?" Sophia said, frowning with her lip curled. Colin's behavioural training pegged this as a 'truth' of sorts, as if the concept had honestly never occurred to her. He bit off a retort about it improving many aspects of her life and simply nodded. Maybe the boys would have better ideas?
Dennis, it seemed, was a veritable bibliophile. It was a mixed blessing in Colin's opinion. With a lack of input from Chris (due to tinkering) and the absence of Carlos (family event),he provided a substantial list. The downside was that they all belonged to one of two categories. Either it was a military sci-fi thriller or an epic fantasy. Nothing really mindful or socially conscientious there. Consigned to a lack of material, he started back to his lab.
"Well, I've always liked the classics," Said Browbeat from the seat next to Dennis. "Crystal said this girl was talking with a university professor, so she might too." When the hell did he get there?
"Thanks," he said. He walked back to his lab.
'Well maybe my first instinct was correct,' he thought. 'I'll have to thank Browbeat later.'
He didn't remember to do so, but the advice went to good use.
BBU was a large campus, Colin mused as he got off his civilian motorcycle. A bit weathered, and not in a good way, but still impressive. When Dragon had gotten back, she asked him if he'd looked up Professor Hilbert yet. He'd meant to, but work and tinkering had taken up his time as usual. He'd made his way here, however, and quickly found the directory.
It didn't help.
He then thought about running a search from his helmet, but then remembered he was here as Colin Wallis, not Armsmaster.
'I don't suppose you could help, Script?' he thought to himself.
He didn't get an answer.
In the end, Colin trudged over to the Campus Administration. The ten minutes he waited in line were spent musing about how best to optimise reception. He couldn't come to an effective conclusion before he was next, but kept the notes tucked away.
Armed with the office number of Jules Hilbert, Colin began his trek. He found the professor grading papers. He looked up as Colin knocked on the open door. With table held a collection of the classics, as well as more modern literary marvels. A luxurious reading chair sat by the window, lamp at the ready for late nights.
"Can I help you?" the older man said.
"Yes, I believe so," Colin said. "I've been afflicted with a curious issue." Hilbert raised an eyebrow behind horn-rimmed glasses, waving for him to continue.
"I've been hearing voices."
"My colleagues in the next wing over will be more than happy to help. Good luck to you."
Colin faintly remembered that the next wing was the psychology department.
"No, I mean a voice," Colin said. "A young woman, possibly in her early twenties. She's narrating my life, every significant detail. She's a Master."
"Then I would suggest the PRT" Hilbert said, sliding the graded paper into the next pile.
"I did. They confirmed influence by a parahuman, but since nothing illegal beyond an invasion of privacy occurred they won't do anything."
The professor sighed, plucking his glasses from his face and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"So what do you want me to do?" he asked.
"She is narrating my life like a story, foreshadowing, allegory, it's all there. I want to know what kind of story it is that she's writing." Colin tried not to sound desperate, but having very few leads made that a bit difficult.
"Fine." Hilbert said as if this grandiose story was no more interesting than saying "The sky is blue".
"Just like that?"
"This last decade or so has been very enlightening. Four years back I saw a guy collapse during a mid-term and wake up able to literally devour knowledge. The definition of weird has changed."
The professor put his glasses back on, grabbing a clipboard and pen, and walked around the desk to sit on the front.
"To begin, we need to answer some basic questions."
"Of course," Colin said. It would save time drastically.
He was wrong. So very wrong, the deceivingly spry professor had been pacing for the last half hour, quizzing him on his relations, religious inclination and snack food preferences. After he finally lost his patience and asked how this was helping, the professor replied that he'd ruled out: Greek literature, Any of the Grimm brothers tales, half of Chinese folklore, and that Colin was definitely not a Golem. What a relief that was to hear.
He sighed, as tedious as this was the professor was actually helping. Having identified himself as the protagonist and cross-referenced the theories of collective storytelling with the current situation in Brockton Bay had prepared him quite a bit. They talked a bit more before Colin excused himself. It had been an enlightening afternoon, but he'd spent enough time away from the 'office'.
Taylor leaned back from the typewriter, considering what she'd written. She hadn't felt as sure about it as she had writing Colin, but it had been better than the rest. It was a near thing, this experiment. She'd tried writing the Triumvirate and gotten nothing from them. She'd sat in convenience stores and written about the employees to no avail. But this man, seemingly random, whom she'd never met or even had any clue of existence before the sentence, did. It felt right.
As he left the gas Station, Jacob paused. Maybe it was the smell in the air, or a tremor in the earth, or even a voice on the wind. But for whatever the reason, he looked to the east and smiled at the oncoming storm.
It felt right, but she really wished it didn't sound so ominous. She began to pack for school, the paper laying on the table, but couldn't bring herself to leave.
'Damn cliffhangers,' she thought to herself. She tapped her long fingers gently on her desk and tossed her backpack on her bed. A quick search of her closet dug up the typewriter's case, and she swiftly packaged it for travel. Counting bus fare, she started towards the number 16 once again.
Colin's return to work was supremely uneventful. A backlog of reports and expense claims awaited him, and his chronic perfectionism wouldn't let him skip over the details.
'Curse me for being good at my job,' he thought. The lamentation didn't get in the way, however, and he sipped at a steady pace from his coffee mug as he went. It was shaping up to be a four-cup day, and he needed to stay on schedule.
Dauntless and Velocity had been investigating several districts, sussing out the clues for a bigger picture. Hannah had a brilliant tactical mind, and between the two of them, he was confident that they could anticipate the fallout from this brewing gang conflict.
Triumph had noted an increase in suspicious activity around the dockside districts, but that was hardly surprising given the state of things. Lung was growing restless, but Colin had something in mind for that eventuality.
And Script. Well, if she truly was on their side, she could be invaluable to him. If not, Colin was always prepared for the worst. That being said, Script's earlier prediction had been sent along to the Protectorate thinkers, it had come back positive. Colin had settled on devoting a small portion of his time researching what had been said.
In order of Doomsday down to Drat, Colin figured that it could mean an Endbringer attack, an all out Gang war, or a simple natural disaster. He was hoping for the latter, but had begun to plan for every outcome. Dragon's software had pegged the S9 as being in Oregon somewhere at the moment, and given their current pattern they'd stay on the west coast for a while. Mr Tocktic had assessed Script's prediction as "Between one and three months" so he felt safe in ruling them out at the moment.
Of the Endbringers, Leviathan was the obvious choice. He was next in the lineup, and Brockton Bay fit his normal target. He would have to brainstorm. Maybe Dragon and he could come up with countermeasures? Deployable water breaks or a device to alter the chemical state of the water? He shook his head, turning back to the haphazard pile of notes.
The Gang war was the most likely, unfortunately, and between the high levels of Empire capes and Lung being Lung, it would be a clusterfuck. He absently hoped Script would come through with more information. If she did, and it was verified, Colin might be able to get reinforcements on standby from another branch. Strider could be contacted at any time, so with a small enough group pre-selected...
Colin spent the next three hours going over the Protectorate members of each branch, comparing their abilities to the villains that would be active in such an event.
Someone was following her.
It had started when she'd gotten off of the bus. That spider-on-your-spine feeling of eyes tracking you. The unseen observer had followed her across campus, between buildings, and even followed her through an evasive pattern she'd thought up in case of trouble in the docks.
The worst part was that she had looked everywhere and seen, well not nobody (this was a busy campus after all) but not enough similarities to set off any alarms.
'It could be a Stranger,' Taylor thought. Did the Protectorate have any local Strangers? Would she even know if they did? What if a gang had noticed her? Did they know about her powers? It could be so much worse than-
"Hey!" "Gah!?"
Taylor spun, nearly dropping her precious cargo as she came face to face with a bemused Crystal. The older girl's lips were twitching at the corners, her nose crinkled, and her eyes had formed smile lines at the corners. Judging from the strangled sound coming from her throat, she was trying very hard not to laugh. The fact that her feet were only just now touching the ground pre-emptively answered the question of where she came from.
She failed her effort spectacularly, doubling over with her hands on her belly as the tinkling sound of her joy rang out in the courtyard. Taylor tried to say something, angry and flustered, and after a few false starts just growled at the heroine. That made her laugh harder.
Taylor considered leaving, but Crystal could fly. That made actually getting away kind of hard.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Crystal said between breaths. "Just, your face. You were. Trying so. Hard. To. To. I've never seen anyone react like. That before." Her apology was somewhat marred by her constant snickering, so Taylor crossed her arms and waited for the young woman to calm down. It gave her a good opportunity to try out her mother's signature glare. It wasn't very effective.
"Can I help you with something?" Taylor asked.
"Well, I just saw you around and realised I never got your name last time," she said.
'That's - ' "-Because you left me on a roof," Taylor said. 'Shit, I said that out loud.'
"Yeah," Crystal said. "That was my bad, sorry, I was kinda caught up in the whole rescue the damsel thing."
"You rescue damsels from walking?" Taylor raised an eyebrow. Crystal gave a snort, her slight trembles betrayed the blonde's wish to laugh again.
"Amy would love you," she said. "You could be the snark twins. It would be legendary."
And that was apparently how Crystal made friends. Of which Taylor was now one. No objections permitted. Her quest completely sidetracked, Taylor let herself get dragged to the campus cafe. The conversation was nice, if not exactly easy. Taylor was out of practice talking with people remotely her own age, but Crystal's enthusiasm more than made up the difference.
"So why are you here anyway?" Crystal asked. They had chosen a table in the back and ordered nice simple and strong coffees, Crystal had insisted of a pair of buttered croissants, but Taylor only nibbled at the pastry.
"Still talking with Professor Hilbert," Taylor said.
"In the middle of the day. A school day," Crystal deadpanned. "Do you have your GED?"
"No," Taylor said. "I'm just..."
"Playing hooky?" Crystal said. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna snitch. Not that I'd know who to even snitch to. We all get restless sometimes. I wish I'd been able to do that."
"You never did?"
"Kinda hard when everyone, literally everyone, knows who you are. And the mothers of New Wave do not take kindly to disappointment. Aunt Carol especially. Eric and I get off with a slap on the wrist in comparison."
'It's funny how different it is to talk with a hero for real. Colin was way less cool than I thought he'd be. Makes sense that New Wave would be different too.'
"So," Crystal said, snapping Taylor from her thoughts. "This story you're writing. What's it about?"
"An anti-social hero saving his hometown from a sort of vague future doom," Taylor said.
"Huh."
Crystal appeared to mull it over, like a gourmet deciding of the steak was too salty or too bland.
"It could work," she said finally. "To be honest, though, not a lot of people dig the whole 'end of the world' stuff these days."
It was an honest declaration and meant to help. But it still killed the conversation for a solid minute. Neither of them needed a reminder of why it was no longer fashionable.
"So, who's your lead?"
"Co-Conrad James, he's a smith. In the town of Franklin Hills. Like I said, clueless with people."
"Cool, cool. So what about the other roles?"
"What?"
"Well, you know, the love interest, the sidekick, the villain. You'll need a few of those. Comic relief maybe, though that depends on how serious you want to take the idea.... Taylor? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Crystal. You're a genius," Taylor said. The older girl preened and fidgeted a bit.
"Well thanks, but I don't-" She was cut off by a Taylor-shaped missile to the chest. The hug stunned her long enough for Taylor to make her escape unhindered.
"Gotta go, thanks bye!" Taylor said.
Her power had latched onto something there. And she was all too eager to find out what she could do with it.
Something was going on with his daughter.
It was the little things that made him wonder. He knew she skipped school, how couldn't he when he heard the clacking of the typewriter at mid-day. She wouldn't talk about school, "It's OK." she would say. "I'm doing fine." It was all lies, but he couldn't bring himself to take away whatever peace she'd made with herself. Or maybe he was just a coward.
Daniel Hebert, Danny to his friends, contemplated all this and more at the bottom of a glass of bourbon. A dramatic man might say that his daughter was his world, his life. Danny would say she was all he had left. Some would say he was depressed, Kurt was fond of saying he should talk to someone. He replied that he was being truthful. A job alone wasn't enough to sustain a man, especially not one as defunct as his. He would never love someone as fully as he had Annette, that had soured his few romantic exploits since her death. No, truthfully Taylor was the only thing he had worth living for, and she didn't trust him.
She'd run in an hour ago, looking excited as she loped up the stairs two at a time. She hadn't even noticed him. Danny sighed, reaching for the bourbon. He rolled the bottle between his palms, feeling it sweat in his hands, and put the cork back in. He'd had enough for one night. Danny set about the familiar tasks of the night. He turned off the lights, made sure the doors and windows were locked and made a note of what groceries to bring home tomorrow. He was just about to go up to bed when the doorbell rang.
Danny was surprised and concerned, decent folk just didn't go around at this time of night. He looked to make sure his flashlight was in easy reach, the tool was about a foot long and made of steel. It would make a good substitute for a bat.
The bell rang again, and Danny walked to the door. He looked out the eyehole to see an officer of the law. Relieved, Danny opened the door.
"Evening sir, I'm sorry to disturb you this late," the man said as he tipped his hat. "We had reports of suspicious activity in the area. Have you heard or seen anything strange?"
"No officer, nothing at all," Danny said.
"Thank you, sir," the officer said as he tipped his hat again. Was that a tattoo?
"That's a nice tattoo. Eagle?" Danny said. A lifetime of negotiations had taught him to control his voice well, the tightness in his throat disguised as he took a small step back, putting the flashlight in reach.
"Hawk actually," the man said with a smile. "Airbourne. I found a different calling, though."
The alarm bells rang with the volume of every cathedral in Rome as the officer raised his hand.
A small bang.
A short whistle.
A soft sting.
Then the man was standing on the wall as Danny felt his face rub the carpet. He tried to yell, to warn Taylor, but only a soft mumble escaped his lips. As two men in black suits stepped carefully through the door, Danny cried into the ground.
Failed again.
The sound of the doorbell woke Taylor from her fervour. Her dad was still up, though, so she didn't bother checking on it. She settled her hands at the keys once more and began again.
Lisa was scared. She had been for a long time.
The bell rang a second time. Her father must have been busy with something.
With the fear, came anger. At herself, at her employer.
Taylor smiled a bit, Crystal's offhanded comment had sparked something. She didn't need to know who she was writing, just who they were to the story. She had cast out to find that Jacob man again, beginning to write the Protagonist of a sub-plot, and had gotten Lisa instead. Not a bad thing, mind you since Taylor was pretty sure Lisa was in Brockton Bay. Maybe she needed help too?
She'd told him, she hadn't said anything to him.
Taylor frowned. Double checking with her power confirmed it, the certainty had been there. It was true. Was Lisa a parahuman too?
But she knew he would go after her, the girl.
She gasped. Was she a villain? The quiet sounds of her father speaking with a man died down. Then came the thump. It wasn't the sound of the front door closing like he'd heard so many times before. It sounded like someone had fallen down. She stood to go check when she heard the other noises. The rotten step on the front stairs squeaked twice with different cadences. She had a very bad feeling.
Acting quickly, Taylor got off her chair, ramming it under the doorknob to try and hold it shut. She turned back to the desk in a panic.
Help me help me! She wrote, her power refusing it. Colin wouldn't hear her, couldn't hear anything outside of the story. She sobbed, trying a different tactic as footsteps softly gathered in the hall.
Colin knew there were trying times ahead, she wrote. 'Damn you power! Why make this so complicated!'
The knob turned. The door cracked open, running into the chair and stopping with a thunk.
It would only get worse. The disappearances were only the beginning. 'oh, god, no no no'
The door rattled, the tempo increasing with the frustration of whoever was outside. For once, she cursed not having a cell phone. She could have called the cops, could have called Crystal, Emma, anyone!
From then on he would have to rely on his own instincts. 'shit shit, how do I get the point across?'
Help would be hard to come by. 'Vagueness not helping power!' The rattling became sharp impacts as the person outside slammed into the door.
Not for the first time, Colin would be powerless. Not for the last time, he would fail someone in need. His morality would doom him. 'no! That's not what I meant to say!'
The door broke down.
She screamed.
A small bang.
Then silence.
Hero's Journey 2.1
- Location
- Canada
March 4th, 2011
The room was some unnatural union of an industrial holding cell and woodland cabin. The furniture, including the bed she lay on, was comfortable. The walls were a light grey, no windows, and sported a single metal door with a single unblinking lens perched atop it. Lighting panels on the ceiling filled the room with artificial sunlight, softly reflecting from the glossy wooden desk that sat against one wall. Her mother's typewriter was placed carefully in the middle with a stack of clean paper to one side and a fruit basket to the other. A dresser, bedside table, and bookshelf completed the room with a look of calming normality.
Perhaps that was the most distressing.
Taylor's heart accelerated as her consciousness returned, remembering the men in their suits. Remembering their guns. Remembering how helpless she'd felt as they dragged her numb, barely conscious self out of her home.
She panicked, rushing from one end of the room to the other, trying to find some way out, something she could use. She only succeeded in making noise. Glancing at the camera, she padded carefully to the desk. She slid a single piece of paper into the machine and turned the knob, feeding it into position for the first line. Mentally, she went over what she knew.
Someone had captured her. They'd tried very hard not to make much noise. They'd left her the means to use her power, and were watching her every move. They knew she was awake. She couldn't use her power to make anyone realise what had happened to her, but she had gotten off a warning of sorts to Colin. The part about morality didn't make sense to her, but then none of this did. Taylor hovered her hands over the keys, undecided on what she should do.
'Any trick would only work once,' she thought. 'I'll have to be careful.'
She stood up, walking to the door and staring up at the camera.
"What do you want from me?" she said. For five minutes she stood there, waiting. Then she sat on the bed, gazing at the door. Another half-hour passed with no change before a voice echoed through the room.
"Stand and face the back wall, put your hands on it," the man said over the intercom. She did as she was told, straining her ears to be ready when the door finally opened.
First came the brute, thankfully, not the cape type. He was stocky, wearing a black under suit with matching body armour. He had a thick lantern jaw and a wickedly hooked nose. Eyes the colour of coal peeked out from beneath heavy brows.
He was pushing a cart with a Television on top.
Second came a man so thin he could give a broom second thoughts on its weight. He too wore a black suit, though his was more like what those people at sports events would wear. A white snake started at his forehead, winding its way down his body with the tail coming to a tip at one ankle.
He was holding a VHS in one hand, and a gun in the other.
"Hello pet," said the cape. "My name is Coil. Given the state of things and the obvious evidence I doubt you'll try anything." He waved the gun around the room, keeping his trigger finger on the outside of the guard and avoiding the room's other occupants. "I intend for our working relationship to continue for some time, so I thought we should have a little bonding time first."
Taylor's first fear was a master power, but the man simply sat next her on the bed and handed the movie case to his henchman. The burly fellow put it in the slot before taking a ready position at the foot of the bed, in case his master needed anything.
"It's called 'Misery'," said Coil. "And as well as being a favourite of mine I'm sure you'll see the similarities between the characters and us."
She did.
She cried.
Colin's day was not off to a good start. He'd fallen asleep in his lab once again, waking up on the cold cement floor in an awkward position with a bruised face. He had spent hours pacing in the room, trying to decipher Script's last message. His immediate response had been to check on recent missing persons. The reports were on his desk, but he hadn't been able to find any connection or clue as to how they could "Only get worse." Phrasing, as always with the queen of vagueness, was paramount.
Disappearances. Plural.
Relying on his own instincts, meaning information coming to light might lead him astray.
Help would be hard to come by, could mean either no reinforcements or that he would be on his own for some reason.
He'd failed someone. His morality would doom him. The implications were not pleasant.
"Colin?" Miss Militia, Hannah, was standing in the door to his lab. She frowned at him, concerned, before she walked over to him. "You were asking about missing persons last night. We just got another one. Or, rather, a kidnapping."
Colin got up, rubbing his cheek, and grabbed for his coffee mug. A cursory glance showed nothing congealed on the inside, so he shrugged and poured himself another cup from the pitcher. It tasted like tar. He gulped it down anyway.
"Tell me," he said.
"We got the call from a man named Danny Hebert, he's the head of hiring for the Dockworker's Union, he said his home was invaded last night, around ten forty pm. He was knocked unconscious and his daughter was gone when he woke up. He has had issues recalling the specifics. He was..." Hannah stopped, her eyes glazing over. "He was very upset."
"We'll do what we can, I promise," Colin said. He moved to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped short. He let his hand drop and moved past her instead. "This might be related to Script's last message."
He pulled over his whiteboard, the surface already littered with notes.
"She said the disappearances would only be the beginning. That I would be powerless. I still have my powers, so that means she was referring to something either too far for me to intercept, or something that has already occurred...What?"
"Nothing," Hannah said, her mouth quirked and eyes smiling. "It's just that you were so sure Script was an enemy, even a week ago you were a sceptic. Now you believe her with no question. It's nice to see you trusting people again."
Colin looked at her, stunned. 'Have I really been so reliant on Script lately?'
"She hasn't been wrong so far, but that doesn't mean she isn't using me," he said. " I'm not naive, Hannah. Just grateful."
"Sure," she said, her smile didn't leave her face as she poured coffee for herself. She used Colin's spare mug, an old Christmas gift from Ethan, he didn't care for the frowny face. "About the Hebert case, I think we should take it on."
"Because of Script's warning?"
"Because he thinks the Empire was responsible."
'Never fucking easy is it?'
Lisa Wilbourne, Tattletale in certain circles, was afraid. Doubly so. Coil had gone after Script, he'd taken her from her home and violated the unwritten rules yet again. It really said something about her 'Employer' that even the Nazis and Drugged up creeps wouldn't cross that line. More than that, Script knew who she was. She'd heard the girl speak in her head but Brian hadn't heard anything, and Script had confirmed something Lisa had already suspected
"She'd told him, she hadn't said anything to him."
Coil used his power on her, probably not for the first time. Who knew how many of her secrets he'd already ripped out of her. How damn subtle would she have to be to escape the man? He had Script now, but he might not know everything about her power yet. He might not know she'd been contacted. Now that she knew for certain what to watch out for, she could move. Slowly, yes, very slowly but she would be free of the madman that had collared her. And if she had the chance, she'd help Script too. She owed the other girl that much at least.
Jacob was intrigued. In the greater populace that simple phrase would evacuate a city. He snickered at the thought. Around him his companions lay in repose. It was actually rather interesting how they excelled at being alone in a group. Mannequin was tinkering on himself, his arm split in half as he inserted more technological marvels into it. Shatterbird was singing; She'd liberated a CD-player from a store during their last romp and had taken to listening to various styles. Playing with the effects they had on her powers. She said that her next performance would be her best one yet. Good for her.
Crawler was lounging to one side, the flickering campfire reflecting off of his flank. The eyes and tentacles writhed in contentment as he munched on the carcass of a deer. Cherish was on her own, Jacob smiled at how true that was, he would see how long she could last but judging by her curled posture and wandering eyes it wouldn't be long.
Then his favourites. Bonesaw sat cross-legged on the ground, the young girl playing pat-a-cake with one of her spider-bots. The Siberian was behind her, running her hands through the girl's hair. His protege and his greatest weapon. He had great plans for them. But this new blood...
He smiled, running a finger along his knife.
'"The oncoming storm" eh? Well, I won't disappoint you my lady.' he thought. After all, Jacob was but a humble actor. Who was he to deny such an important role?
His continued chuckles gave no cause for concern, it was par for the course in his present company.
Danny was lifeless. Dramatic maybe, but between the physical drain of whatever had been injected into him and the emotional pain of losing his daughter, he could only sit like a wet noodle. Too exhausted to move.
He'd called the BBPD first, and spent hours in a room speaking to their people. First, a detective getting his story. Then came a counsellor, trying to get him to forget. He told the smarmy man to come back when he had children of his own.
Then came a hero. Or heroine really. Miss Militia of the protectorate. She'd listened to him, got his story and asked questions that the detective either hadn't thought of or was too jaded to ask. He'd told her about Taylor's problems with school, her lack of a social life. He'd begged her not to treat his daughter as just another runaway. She believed him. He could see how truly sorry she was to hear about Taylor's abduction. And she'd believed him when he said the Empire was behind it.
She'd offered him a ride to wherever he needed to go. With his home a crime scene, he went to the only other place he had meaning. The other Union members had been comforting, his boss had given him free reign of the break room for as long as he needed. He'd been back at work in under an hour. The normality gave him comfort. While he was signing papers and reviewing records he could almost trick himself into thinking she was safe at home, waiting for him.
Nobody asked about his puffy, red eyes. He was grateful for that. He eventually fell asleep in the office, applications and company newsletters littered the desk beneath his face. He couldn't help but feel like he'd missed something.
Crystal was bored. If she was being honest with herself she had been for a while. Her brother and cousins had taken to the hero life like fish to water, while she had felt out of place. Hunting down criminals didn't have the same thrill for her that it did for Victoria. She would never help people as easily as Amy could, though that might be a blessing considering how worn out the girl was these days.
And Eric? Well, he'd always enjoyed the attention. He should have traded Victoria for her name. Glory Guy.
She snorted, wouldn't that be a laugh.
Her studies were OK, though she really only cared for a few of her classes. Aunt Carol may be paying for her law degree, but was that really what she wanted? She stared into the depths of her coffee, stirring it slowly with one hand.
She wanted friends, real friends. People who weren't family, who didn't care what her last name was or that she had powers. Maybe that was why she liked professor Hilbert's class so much, he didn't make a big deal out of capes. She liked Taylor too, for much the same reason. Crystal felt a weight lift from her shoulders and she smiled, raising the cup to her lips. The awkward, quiet girl had some spunk in her. Cute in her own way. Crystal would enjoy getting to know her. It would be nice to have a friend she could trust.
The future was looking up.
The Hebert case was more complicated than he'd first thought. As if it wasn't bad enough that the Empire was implicated. It turned out that Taylor Hebert was none other than the 'Locker Girl' he'd read about in the paper weeks ago. This changed things. He signed the paperwork for the case to be transferred from the hands of the BBPD. They were not happy about it, but Colin couldn't care less at this point. Then he got ready for something unpleasant.
He had delayed his talk with Shadow stalker for far too long.
He made his way to the garage, signing out the keys to his civilian motorcycle. The touring model bike was nice, customised to his specifications. It was probably the only luxury item he owned. The growling sound that came as he turned the key still gave him the same thrill of joy that it had as a kid.
He strapped on his helmet and zipped up his leathers, Winslow high was about a half-hour away if he factored in traffic. He saw no reason to dally.
'Winslow is even shittier than normal today,' Sophia mused between mouthfuls of mystery meat chilli. It was a shithole all the time, but now it was a boring shithole. Emma and Madison had made sure that nobody had squealed on the locker prank, So Ass-master's visit the other day was either unrelated or something the dunce felt obligated to do.
"Sophia Hess to the Principal's office," The scratchy voice of the secretary said, repeating it once more before clicking off with a nasally "Thank you."
'You're welcome bitch,' Sophia thought as she scarfed down her lunch. 'The shit you put up with as a hero...'
Armsmaster was sitting in the guest chair. Colin, or Mr Wallis, since he was out of costume. He was leafing through a fairly hefty file and payed her no more attention than a flickering glance before turning back to his papers. Sophia recognised the face staring out from the photo on the page.
'Fucking Hebert. She must have snitched, fuck!'
"Hello Sophia," Wallis said, laying the folder on the table. "Principal Blackwell, could we have the room please?"
"I'm not sure it would be appropriate," Blackwell said. Wallis stared at her without saying a word. She left.
"Why didn't you say anything about Taylor Hebert?" he asked. 'Fuck'
"I didn't think it was important," she said carefully.
"Not. Important?" 'Shit, he's mad.' "Obviously, someone thought it was important. The girl's been kidnapped from her home. I don't know about you Sophia, but I'd call being the 'Winslow Locker Girl' worthy of a trigger event."
So he didn't know? Sophia felt a surge of relief before the words really hit her. Did someone go to that much trouble for fucking Hebert?
"Of course, that's speculation, but Hannah says that the abduction was perpetrated by a man with a tattoo. It was a bird of prey.
'Empire?' "You sure she didn't just run away? That girl was troubled, I wouldn't be surprised if she joined the fuckers."
"We have reason to suspect otherwise," Wallis said. "The more important thing is that you said nothing. No mention of a troubled kid being targeted. This is how villains are made Sophia! When we can't get to them in time!"
Holy shit, Colin "Straight-lace" Wallis was yelling at her? That was new. He didn't even look angry at her, that was the worst part, just disappointment.
'You're not my fucking father, jackass, you don't get to be disappointed in me!'
"Some people are just bad apples, boss, there's no helping them," she said as neutrally as she could.
"I will never believe that Sophia," he said, looking right into her eyes. "If I did I'd condemn myself."
'Wait, what?' Sophia screwed up her face in confusion, asking her question silently, but the man said nothing more. He rubbed at his temples, heaving the sigh of someone twice his age.
"What aren't you telling me Sophia?" There were those eyes again, piercing into her.
"N-Nothing Boss, you're being fu- very paranoid," she said, using all her self-control not to just blurt out the answer. He looked into her for a while longer, and she was frozen by the intensity of his gaze. Then he looked away and she could move, breathe, again.
"Tell me everything you learn about her," Armsmaster said, gathering up the file of the missing girl gingerly. "We need to find her Sophia, and soon. Dismissed"
Sophia managed to get down the hall before her legs gave out. She'd really underestimated the man. Hell, she'd only just met him for real, and he scared the shit out of her.
'That went well,' he thought as Sophia walked out. He'd been able to stress the importance of the situation to her, and he could tell she'd gotten the point. He really did hope she was telling the truth but honestly, he knew her better than that. Now he just needed to find out what she was hiding.
"From then on he would have to rely on his own instincts."
He wished that could be enough. But the law required more than circumstantial evidence. He waved away the last line of Script's speech, he didn't have the time to spend on that right now. He got what he had come for, now he had work to do.
Colin didn't find it in himself to enjoy the ride back to base. He couldn't enjoy anything at the moment. Script had been right, he'd failed someone last night. He wouldn't do so again.
March 10th, 2011
Taylor stabbed the keys viciously but they were only a stand in for her real target. Coil had made himself abundantly clear that first day. She was valuable, but not invulnerable, not irreplaceable. The Burly man, Minor, had been left in charge of her. He woke her up with the sunrise and ordered her to sleep at sunset. One of his men was always watching, in person or through the cameras, and he would collect her writings at the end of each day.
He never hit her, but if she'd written too little the next day's meals would be smaller. Every so often he would bring a command from his taskmaster. Small things, experiments. She had refused him the first time, and the second, but by the fourth forgotten meal she had slinked over to the typewriter and did as he said. Coil commanded her to write about him, and she did. Or she tried at least. She hadn't been able to frame him correctly yet, though thankfully that sort of failure was tolerated, expected even.
She'd kept some things to herself, though. Jacob's existence, though she hadn't learned any more about him, and Lisa's plans to betray him. She'd eaten the paper after writing that one, not willing to give the man anything more on the girl.
Coil asked for updates on Colin, twice a day, and after the first time, he included that she had to make it sound natural. Colin had gotten suspicious. Good.
Taylor watched, waited, wrote.
Eat, sleep, type.
Eat, sleep, type.
Freedom would come. It would. It had to.
Jules was concerned. Maybe it was Crystal's imagination, maybe she was just less jaded than her fellow students, but she could tell that something was bothering the man. He'd looked increasingly dishevelled every day for a week now. As shameful as it was, she tried to ignore it at first. She had enough 'Hero-time' with her family, she didn't want it invading her studies too. But she grew bored, and boredom turned to curiosity. She waited for the other students to file out before approaching him.
"Professor," she said, looking at the subtle signs of stress. "This might be overstepping my bounds here, but is something wrong?"
Jules Hilbert hardened, one finger raised to tell her off, and then stopped. His eyes lost any lustre, and his familiar laugh lines had turned sour, ageing the man well beyond his years.
"Is it that obvious Ms Pelham?" she didn't like the state of his voice, beleaguered as it was.
"Just to me," she said, turning up her lips in an attempt to cheer him up. "I am a hero you know."
"How could I forget," he said. He dragged his feet over behind his desk and sat. "It's a personal matter, daughter of an old friend."
"Taylor?" the name was out before Crystal could think. She hadn't seen her friend since... about a week actually. Taylor had run off after hugging her. She hadn't thought much of her absence , the younger girl was in high school so she couldn't skip all the time.
"You know her?" It was almost sad the way his eyes lit up again, not good either. Crystal had seen eyes like that before, in her political science lectures when they watched documentaries about the big threats. Survivors from the Endbringers, Nilbog, the Slaughterhouse. Seeing those eyes reflected even a little in Jules' eyes felt wrong. "Have you seen her?"
"Not since last Thursday." As suddenly as that terrible energy had been gifted to him, the man lost it, the vigour draining and leaving him draped on his chair.
"I see."
"We had coffee together, then she said something about me being a genius and ran off."
"Genius?" Jules' face now had a calculating tinge to it.
"We were talking about her book, and then I said she needed more roles, not just the hero. She thanked me and ran off. What's wrong... Is she missing?"
Jules chewed his lip for a moment, indecisive, but finally and startlingly broke his silence.
"Fuck it," he said. "She went missing last Thursday. No, she was kidnapped. From her house."
The professor stood and lunged at her, clasping both of Crystal's shoulders with considerable speed despite his age. He looked her straight in the eyes. Gravely, and that was indeed the word, he looked to ensure no one was listening.
"And she wasn't writing a book, she was writing reality," he said. "Taylor is a parahuman."
Oh, fuck. That changed everything.
The room was some unnatural union of an industrial holding cell and woodland cabin. The furniture, including the bed she lay on, was comfortable. The walls were a light grey, no windows, and sported a single metal door with a single unblinking lens perched atop it. Lighting panels on the ceiling filled the room with artificial sunlight, softly reflecting from the glossy wooden desk that sat against one wall. Her mother's typewriter was placed carefully in the middle with a stack of clean paper to one side and a fruit basket to the other. A dresser, bedside table, and bookshelf completed the room with a look of calming normality.
Perhaps that was the most distressing.
Taylor's heart accelerated as her consciousness returned, remembering the men in their suits. Remembering their guns. Remembering how helpless she'd felt as they dragged her numb, barely conscious self out of her home.
She panicked, rushing from one end of the room to the other, trying to find some way out, something she could use. She only succeeded in making noise. Glancing at the camera, she padded carefully to the desk. She slid a single piece of paper into the machine and turned the knob, feeding it into position for the first line. Mentally, she went over what she knew.
Someone had captured her. They'd tried very hard not to make much noise. They'd left her the means to use her power, and were watching her every move. They knew she was awake. She couldn't use her power to make anyone realise what had happened to her, but she had gotten off a warning of sorts to Colin. The part about morality didn't make sense to her, but then none of this did. Taylor hovered her hands over the keys, undecided on what she should do.
'Any trick would only work once,' she thought. 'I'll have to be careful.'
She stood up, walking to the door and staring up at the camera.
"What do you want from me?" she said. For five minutes she stood there, waiting. Then she sat on the bed, gazing at the door. Another half-hour passed with no change before a voice echoed through the room.
"Stand and face the back wall, put your hands on it," the man said over the intercom. She did as she was told, straining her ears to be ready when the door finally opened.
First came the brute, thankfully, not the cape type. He was stocky, wearing a black under suit with matching body armour. He had a thick lantern jaw and a wickedly hooked nose. Eyes the colour of coal peeked out from beneath heavy brows.
He was pushing a cart with a Television on top.
Second came a man so thin he could give a broom second thoughts on its weight. He too wore a black suit, though his was more like what those people at sports events would wear. A white snake started at his forehead, winding its way down his body with the tail coming to a tip at one ankle.
He was holding a VHS in one hand, and a gun in the other.
"Hello pet," said the cape. "My name is Coil. Given the state of things and the obvious evidence I doubt you'll try anything." He waved the gun around the room, keeping his trigger finger on the outside of the guard and avoiding the room's other occupants. "I intend for our working relationship to continue for some time, so I thought we should have a little bonding time first."
Taylor's first fear was a master power, but the man simply sat next her on the bed and handed the movie case to his henchman. The burly fellow put it in the slot before taking a ready position at the foot of the bed, in case his master needed anything.
"It's called 'Misery'," said Coil. "And as well as being a favourite of mine I'm sure you'll see the similarities between the characters and us."
She did.
She cried.
Colin's day was not off to a good start. He'd fallen asleep in his lab once again, waking up on the cold cement floor in an awkward position with a bruised face. He had spent hours pacing in the room, trying to decipher Script's last message. His immediate response had been to check on recent missing persons. The reports were on his desk, but he hadn't been able to find any connection or clue as to how they could "Only get worse." Phrasing, as always with the queen of vagueness, was paramount.
Disappearances. Plural.
Relying on his own instincts, meaning information coming to light might lead him astray.
Help would be hard to come by, could mean either no reinforcements or that he would be on his own for some reason.
He'd failed someone. His morality would doom him. The implications were not pleasant.
"Colin?" Miss Militia, Hannah, was standing in the door to his lab. She frowned at him, concerned, before she walked over to him. "You were asking about missing persons last night. We just got another one. Or, rather, a kidnapping."
Colin got up, rubbing his cheek, and grabbed for his coffee mug. A cursory glance showed nothing congealed on the inside, so he shrugged and poured himself another cup from the pitcher. It tasted like tar. He gulped it down anyway.
"Tell me," he said.
"We got the call from a man named Danny Hebert, he's the head of hiring for the Dockworker's Union, he said his home was invaded last night, around ten forty pm. He was knocked unconscious and his daughter was gone when he woke up. He has had issues recalling the specifics. He was..." Hannah stopped, her eyes glazing over. "He was very upset."
"We'll do what we can, I promise," Colin said. He moved to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped short. He let his hand drop and moved past her instead. "This might be related to Script's last message."
He pulled over his whiteboard, the surface already littered with notes.
"She said the disappearances would only be the beginning. That I would be powerless. I still have my powers, so that means she was referring to something either too far for me to intercept, or something that has already occurred...What?"
"Nothing," Hannah said, her mouth quirked and eyes smiling. "It's just that you were so sure Script was an enemy, even a week ago you were a sceptic. Now you believe her with no question. It's nice to see you trusting people again."
Colin looked at her, stunned. 'Have I really been so reliant on Script lately?'
"She hasn't been wrong so far, but that doesn't mean she isn't using me," he said. " I'm not naive, Hannah. Just grateful."
"Sure," she said, her smile didn't leave her face as she poured coffee for herself. She used Colin's spare mug, an old Christmas gift from Ethan, he didn't care for the frowny face. "About the Hebert case, I think we should take it on."
"Because of Script's warning?"
"Because he thinks the Empire was responsible."
'Never fucking easy is it?'
Lisa Wilbourne, Tattletale in certain circles, was afraid. Doubly so. Coil had gone after Script, he'd taken her from her home and violated the unwritten rules yet again. It really said something about her 'Employer' that even the Nazis and Drugged up creeps wouldn't cross that line. More than that, Script knew who she was. She'd heard the girl speak in her head but Brian hadn't heard anything, and Script had confirmed something Lisa had already suspected
"She'd told him, she hadn't said anything to him."
Coil used his power on her, probably not for the first time. Who knew how many of her secrets he'd already ripped out of her. How damn subtle would she have to be to escape the man? He had Script now, but he might not know everything about her power yet. He might not know she'd been contacted. Now that she knew for certain what to watch out for, she could move. Slowly, yes, very slowly but she would be free of the madman that had collared her. And if she had the chance, she'd help Script too. She owed the other girl that much at least.
Jacob was intrigued. In the greater populace that simple phrase would evacuate a city. He snickered at the thought. Around him his companions lay in repose. It was actually rather interesting how they excelled at being alone in a group. Mannequin was tinkering on himself, his arm split in half as he inserted more technological marvels into it. Shatterbird was singing; She'd liberated a CD-player from a store during their last romp and had taken to listening to various styles. Playing with the effects they had on her powers. She said that her next performance would be her best one yet. Good for her.
Crawler was lounging to one side, the flickering campfire reflecting off of his flank. The eyes and tentacles writhed in contentment as he munched on the carcass of a deer. Cherish was on her own, Jacob smiled at how true that was, he would see how long she could last but judging by her curled posture and wandering eyes it wouldn't be long.
Then his favourites. Bonesaw sat cross-legged on the ground, the young girl playing pat-a-cake with one of her spider-bots. The Siberian was behind her, running her hands through the girl's hair. His protege and his greatest weapon. He had great plans for them. But this new blood...
He smiled, running a finger along his knife.
'"The oncoming storm" eh? Well, I won't disappoint you my lady.' he thought. After all, Jacob was but a humble actor. Who was he to deny such an important role?
His continued chuckles gave no cause for concern, it was par for the course in his present company.
Danny was lifeless. Dramatic maybe, but between the physical drain of whatever had been injected into him and the emotional pain of losing his daughter, he could only sit like a wet noodle. Too exhausted to move.
He'd called the BBPD first, and spent hours in a room speaking to their people. First, a detective getting his story. Then came a counsellor, trying to get him to forget. He told the smarmy man to come back when he had children of his own.
Then came a hero. Or heroine really. Miss Militia of the protectorate. She'd listened to him, got his story and asked questions that the detective either hadn't thought of or was too jaded to ask. He'd told her about Taylor's problems with school, her lack of a social life. He'd begged her not to treat his daughter as just another runaway. She believed him. He could see how truly sorry she was to hear about Taylor's abduction. And she'd believed him when he said the Empire was behind it.
She'd offered him a ride to wherever he needed to go. With his home a crime scene, he went to the only other place he had meaning. The other Union members had been comforting, his boss had given him free reign of the break room for as long as he needed. He'd been back at work in under an hour. The normality gave him comfort. While he was signing papers and reviewing records he could almost trick himself into thinking she was safe at home, waiting for him.
Nobody asked about his puffy, red eyes. He was grateful for that. He eventually fell asleep in the office, applications and company newsletters littered the desk beneath his face. He couldn't help but feel like he'd missed something.
Crystal was bored. If she was being honest with herself she had been for a while. Her brother and cousins had taken to the hero life like fish to water, while she had felt out of place. Hunting down criminals didn't have the same thrill for her that it did for Victoria. She would never help people as easily as Amy could, though that might be a blessing considering how worn out the girl was these days.
And Eric? Well, he'd always enjoyed the attention. He should have traded Victoria for her name. Glory Guy.
She snorted, wouldn't that be a laugh.
Her studies were OK, though she really only cared for a few of her classes. Aunt Carol may be paying for her law degree, but was that really what she wanted? She stared into the depths of her coffee, stirring it slowly with one hand.
She wanted friends, real friends. People who weren't family, who didn't care what her last name was or that she had powers. Maybe that was why she liked professor Hilbert's class so much, he didn't make a big deal out of capes. She liked Taylor too, for much the same reason. Crystal felt a weight lift from her shoulders and she smiled, raising the cup to her lips. The awkward, quiet girl had some spunk in her. Cute in her own way. Crystal would enjoy getting to know her. It would be nice to have a friend she could trust.
The future was looking up.
The Hebert case was more complicated than he'd first thought. As if it wasn't bad enough that the Empire was implicated. It turned out that Taylor Hebert was none other than the 'Locker Girl' he'd read about in the paper weeks ago. This changed things. He signed the paperwork for the case to be transferred from the hands of the BBPD. They were not happy about it, but Colin couldn't care less at this point. Then he got ready for something unpleasant.
He had delayed his talk with Shadow stalker for far too long.
He made his way to the garage, signing out the keys to his civilian motorcycle. The touring model bike was nice, customised to his specifications. It was probably the only luxury item he owned. The growling sound that came as he turned the key still gave him the same thrill of joy that it had as a kid.
He strapped on his helmet and zipped up his leathers, Winslow high was about a half-hour away if he factored in traffic. He saw no reason to dally.
'Winslow is even shittier than normal today,' Sophia mused between mouthfuls of mystery meat chilli. It was a shithole all the time, but now it was a boring shithole. Emma and Madison had made sure that nobody had squealed on the locker prank, So Ass-master's visit the other day was either unrelated or something the dunce felt obligated to do.
"Sophia Hess to the Principal's office," The scratchy voice of the secretary said, repeating it once more before clicking off with a nasally "Thank you."
'You're welcome bitch,' Sophia thought as she scarfed down her lunch. 'The shit you put up with as a hero...'
Armsmaster was sitting in the guest chair. Colin, or Mr Wallis, since he was out of costume. He was leafing through a fairly hefty file and payed her no more attention than a flickering glance before turning back to his papers. Sophia recognised the face staring out from the photo on the page.
'Fucking Hebert. She must have snitched, fuck!'
"Hello Sophia," Wallis said, laying the folder on the table. "Principal Blackwell, could we have the room please?"
"I'm not sure it would be appropriate," Blackwell said. Wallis stared at her without saying a word. She left.
"Why didn't you say anything about Taylor Hebert?" he asked. 'Fuck'
"I didn't think it was important," she said carefully.
"Not. Important?" 'Shit, he's mad.' "Obviously, someone thought it was important. The girl's been kidnapped from her home. I don't know about you Sophia, but I'd call being the 'Winslow Locker Girl' worthy of a trigger event."
So he didn't know? Sophia felt a surge of relief before the words really hit her. Did someone go to that much trouble for fucking Hebert?
"Of course, that's speculation, but Hannah says that the abduction was perpetrated by a man with a tattoo. It was a bird of prey.
'Empire?' "You sure she didn't just run away? That girl was troubled, I wouldn't be surprised if she joined the fuckers."
"We have reason to suspect otherwise," Wallis said. "The more important thing is that you said nothing. No mention of a troubled kid being targeted. This is how villains are made Sophia! When we can't get to them in time!"
Holy shit, Colin "Straight-lace" Wallis was yelling at her? That was new. He didn't even look angry at her, that was the worst part, just disappointment.
'You're not my fucking father, jackass, you don't get to be disappointed in me!'
"Some people are just bad apples, boss, there's no helping them," she said as neutrally as she could.
"I will never believe that Sophia," he said, looking right into her eyes. "If I did I'd condemn myself."
'Wait, what?' Sophia screwed up her face in confusion, asking her question silently, but the man said nothing more. He rubbed at his temples, heaving the sigh of someone twice his age.
"What aren't you telling me Sophia?" There were those eyes again, piercing into her.
"N-Nothing Boss, you're being fu- very paranoid," she said, using all her self-control not to just blurt out the answer. He looked into her for a while longer, and she was frozen by the intensity of his gaze. Then he looked away and she could move, breathe, again.
"Tell me everything you learn about her," Armsmaster said, gathering up the file of the missing girl gingerly. "We need to find her Sophia, and soon. Dismissed"
Sophia managed to get down the hall before her legs gave out. She'd really underestimated the man. Hell, she'd only just met him for real, and he scared the shit out of her.
'That went well,' he thought as Sophia walked out. He'd been able to stress the importance of the situation to her, and he could tell she'd gotten the point. He really did hope she was telling the truth but honestly, he knew her better than that. Now he just needed to find out what she was hiding.
"From then on he would have to rely on his own instincts."
He wished that could be enough. But the law required more than circumstantial evidence. He waved away the last line of Script's speech, he didn't have the time to spend on that right now. He got what he had come for, now he had work to do.
Colin didn't find it in himself to enjoy the ride back to base. He couldn't enjoy anything at the moment. Script had been right, he'd failed someone last night. He wouldn't do so again.
March 10th, 2011
Taylor stabbed the keys viciously but they were only a stand in for her real target. Coil had made himself abundantly clear that first day. She was valuable, but not invulnerable, not irreplaceable. The Burly man, Minor, had been left in charge of her. He woke her up with the sunrise and ordered her to sleep at sunset. One of his men was always watching, in person or through the cameras, and he would collect her writings at the end of each day.
He never hit her, but if she'd written too little the next day's meals would be smaller. Every so often he would bring a command from his taskmaster. Small things, experiments. She had refused him the first time, and the second, but by the fourth forgotten meal she had slinked over to the typewriter and did as he said. Coil commanded her to write about him, and she did. Or she tried at least. She hadn't been able to frame him correctly yet, though thankfully that sort of failure was tolerated, expected even.
She'd kept some things to herself, though. Jacob's existence, though she hadn't learned any more about him, and Lisa's plans to betray him. She'd eaten the paper after writing that one, not willing to give the man anything more on the girl.
Coil asked for updates on Colin, twice a day, and after the first time, he included that she had to make it sound natural. Colin had gotten suspicious. Good.
Taylor watched, waited, wrote.
Eat, sleep, type.
Eat, sleep, type.
Freedom would come. It would. It had to.
Jules was concerned. Maybe it was Crystal's imagination, maybe she was just less jaded than her fellow students, but she could tell that something was bothering the man. He'd looked increasingly dishevelled every day for a week now. As shameful as it was, she tried to ignore it at first. She had enough 'Hero-time' with her family, she didn't want it invading her studies too. But she grew bored, and boredom turned to curiosity. She waited for the other students to file out before approaching him.
"Professor," she said, looking at the subtle signs of stress. "This might be overstepping my bounds here, but is something wrong?"
Jules Hilbert hardened, one finger raised to tell her off, and then stopped. His eyes lost any lustre, and his familiar laugh lines had turned sour, ageing the man well beyond his years.
"Is it that obvious Ms Pelham?" she didn't like the state of his voice, beleaguered as it was.
"Just to me," she said, turning up her lips in an attempt to cheer him up. "I am a hero you know."
"How could I forget," he said. He dragged his feet over behind his desk and sat. "It's a personal matter, daughter of an old friend."
"Taylor?" the name was out before Crystal could think. She hadn't seen her friend since... about a week actually. Taylor had run off after hugging her. She hadn't thought much of her absence , the younger girl was in high school so she couldn't skip all the time.
"You know her?" It was almost sad the way his eyes lit up again, not good either. Crystal had seen eyes like that before, in her political science lectures when they watched documentaries about the big threats. Survivors from the Endbringers, Nilbog, the Slaughterhouse. Seeing those eyes reflected even a little in Jules' eyes felt wrong. "Have you seen her?"
"Not since last Thursday." As suddenly as that terrible energy had been gifted to him, the man lost it, the vigour draining and leaving him draped on his chair.
"I see."
"We had coffee together, then she said something about me being a genius and ran off."
"Genius?" Jules' face now had a calculating tinge to it.
"We were talking about her book, and then I said she needed more roles, not just the hero. She thanked me and ran off. What's wrong... Is she missing?"
Jules chewed his lip for a moment, indecisive, but finally and startlingly broke his silence.
"Fuck it," he said. "She went missing last Thursday. No, she was kidnapped. From her house."
The professor stood and lunged at her, clasping both of Crystal's shoulders with considerable speed despite his age. He looked her straight in the eyes. Gravely, and that was indeed the word, he looked to ensure no one was listening.
"And she wasn't writing a book, she was writing reality," he said. "Taylor is a parahuman."
Oh, fuck. That changed everything.
Hero's Journey 2.2
- Location
- Canada
March 14th, 2011
Ten days in the hands of that psycho, Coil. She actually missed Winslow, Sophia and Emma too now that she thought about it. She hadn't left the room since her incarceration began. Minor had brought in a man named Mr Pitter yesterday. He'd told her that Coil was growing restless. That he wanted her to use her power on him. She'd told him that she couldn't until she knew what kind of character he was. Mr Pitter had come back with a list of facts that Coil had deemed safe enough to let her read. He was a survivor. He was despicable. He was a symbol of everything going wrong in the Bay.
Something clicked. A symbolic character? Was it that simple? Taylor put a hand to her throat and winced. This was her home, no way in hell some guy like Coil was representative of it. And yet her power didn't lie.
She'd have to get rid of him.
Lisa was growing restless. Brian was OK, sure, but Alec and Rachel didn't really care about the Undersiders. They were in it for the money. Well, they all were really, but she could at least trust that Brian would side with her if she explained what was going on. She hoped.
Script had talked to her a few times, Using power to gauge me. But she didn't need her power to figure that one out. Coil was getting bolder, finally moving out of the shadows. Has another target. And wasn't that great. Lisa would be the first to say she was no upstanding citizen, but she did have standards.
Okay. Honestly, she just wanted the chance to shoot the fucker.
"She'd told him, she hadn't said anything to him." Coil's power a duology.
She thought about the times she'd spoken to Coil, both on the phone and in person. He'd acted decisively and without fear of consequence. Every previous interaction duplicated. Tested. Chosen.
That would certainly explain his actions.
She let out a frustrated groan and rolled out of bed, impersonating a zombie as she wandered to her kitchen. Eggs and bacon jumped into her frying pan as she fumbled with the coffee machine. Her emergency stash at home wasn't as good as the java joint on the boardwalk, but going there hadn't felt right since Script's capture.
When escape proved impossible, Lisa would have to trust her enemy True. Enemy inconclusive.
'Goddammit Script,' Lisa thought. She wasn't exactly sure how the girl was doing this without Coil's knowledge, but it was probably dangerous. She silently promised to make the most of it. It wasn't the best foretelling ever, but since when was prophecy a good thing?
Her breakfast eaten, Lisa plastered her trademark smirk on her face. The Undersiders had work to do, she could plot later.
Four days later and she still couldn't believe it. Taylor had powers? She was the one who had Armsmaster freaking out a month ago? Assault had passed on some choice clips, and honestly, most of New Wave just thought he was having a stress-induced breakdown. Crystal hadn't really given any thought to it being real.
'She writes reality? What does that even mean?'
Whatever it meant, her friend was in trouble. She might not have known Taylor long, but that didn't matter to her. Crystal would help her friend. Period and full stop.
'I hope she's okay...'
Crystal adjusted her flight pattern, she had to make a detour.
Colin didn't understand why Hannah was so insistent on owning a Jeep. Sure it was sturdy and it fit with her image, but she could have done the same with a Harley-Davidson. A lot of his own bike's tech could fit in a WLA without wrecking the aesthetic. He privately thought it would make her entrances much cooler.
"We're here," the woman in question said. 'Here' was a dump, specifically the Inner City Refuse Collection Center. It was one of the several places capes considered neutral ground, if not the most pleasant option. It was precisely because of that fact that they were here. They didn't want witnesses.
Colin eased out of the jeep, patting down his sides to ensure all his gear was in place. This was supposed to be a peaceful discussion but as much as Kaiser played by the rules, Colin couldn't be sure of the other Empire Capes. At least a couple had body counts, double that had itchy trigger fingers and a chip on their shoulder.
"Why are we here, Colin?" Hannah asked, her power flickering between a colt .45 and a kukri. "Kaiser won't tell the truth if he was behind it."
"He wasn't." Behind her scarf, Hannah quirked a brow at him.
"Think about it. If Kaiser organised her kidnapping, there would be a show. He might be a conniving bastard, but his people don't do subtle. The house would have had E88 symbols all over it. He would have waited until she was fair game, in costume. No this doesn't fit his MO at all."
Hannah just looked pensive, "I still don't see why we need to work with them. We'd be better off-" Her power crackled through it's green, gaseous form and settled into a high-powered rifle. "They're here."
They didn't have to wait long for the man himself to approach. With his usual pomp, Kaiser strode through the garbage like it was a kingdom. Fenja and Menja flanked him, just a step behind and ready for trouble. The small glint of a scope in the sunlight betrayed the position of a sniper.
'Hello, Victor.'
"Greetings Armsmaster, Miss Militia, to what do I owe the pleasure?" True to form, Brockton's resident Hitler wannabe played it off as if he hadn't fully investigated the situation before arriving. Forcing the other party to explain themselves, classic power play.
"The missing girl, Taylor Hebert," Colin said.
"You think I have her?" Kaiser said, his voice raised.
"I know you don't. But someone has come very close to breaking the rules here, and I know you'll want to set just as much of an example as I do."
"Armsmaster?" Hannah said, surprised yet again. She didn't approve. Too bad.
"And what would I gain from joining your crusade, hero? The adoration of the populace?"
"The respect of heroes for defending the unwritten rules. You'll recall that the Empire was treated somewhat favourably after the Fleur incident."
The twin Valkyries looked at each other as Kaiser stroked his chin. The helmet somewhat tainted the traditional villain pose, but the point was clear. Colin had been around the block enough times to know how this was going to go:
Kaiser would say that it's not enough, that he'd need concessions. Colin would agree to listen to his demands, regardless of the fact that he had no intention of granting them. The two would bicker while their respective subordinates watched each other with tense eyes. Then they would agree to the original proposal, they'd already set the terms. The rest of the show was for appearances sake. A hero and a villain couldn't be seen agreeing so quickly, regardless of how well they knew the other party.
Sure enough, he was right. Kaiser's demands of laxity and the release of some goons were refused. Colin stressed the importance of the rules, citing how big the shitstorm could be if more people disappeared from their homes. They shook hands. The Twins relaxed. Hannah did not.
They left the garbage heaps behind and began a quick patrol. More publicity than anything else, to remind the people that the heroes still existed. For all the good it did the Heberts.
"What was that back there," Hannah said after a few minutes. Her hands were clenched around the steering wheel.
"Negotiations," he said. No sense stretching the truth here.
"That's for the worst of times, Colin. Endbringers, Nilbog. The truce isn't for every little thing."
"So it's 'A little thing' now?" Colin said. "I thought you wanted to help these people."
"I. Do,"she said. She pulled over to the side of the road and looked at him for the first time since the meeting. "But there's a right way to do this and it doesn't include making deals with Nazis!"
"It's not a 'deal' Militia, I'm telling him to keep an eye out. The villains want to stay on top of this as much as we do."
"This isn't the old days Armsmaster. There are no more 'gentleman thieves' and we can have our leader corrupting his own ideals." She paused for breath, turning her body to face him. "You're a hero, Colin, you inspire people. We'll find Taylor, I swear we will, but I'm not willing to lose myself in the process. Are you?"
Colin worked his jaw, 'a world where everyone can be happy', and got out of the car.
"I'll walk back from here," he said.
"Colin!" he heard her say.
He ignored her and kept walking. She was wrong.
He just needed time.
"Danny?"
He lifted his head, the stubble on his face pulling slightly as it came unstuck from the desk.
"Yeah?" he answered. He fumbled for his glasses, pulling them on to see who'd woken him.
"Come on man, time to go home," Kurt said. The man hoisted Danny up, helping him out to his car, and started back to his house.
"Lacey cleared out the spare bedroom finally, so you can stop sleeping on the couch at least."
Danny nodded.
"And, uh, we found someone. To talk to I mean, she comes highly recommended-"
"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.
"Danny," Kurt said, stopping as his voice cracked. "Danny, you're a mess man. It's been over a week and you haven't gone home. You should at least talk to her, she could he-"
"I don't want to talk about it, I want my Daughter back!" his voice was scratchy from disuse, but he didn't care. His outburst was enough to buy him a night of careful silence from Kurt and Lacey, that was enough. Until she came home. Until he got his home back.
Crystal flew over the university grounds, the small specks of people below shifting in an endless wave. A few were taking photos, of course, not used to her comings and goings. Freshmen.
Professor Jules' office was locked and dark, his classes for the day marked with the slip excusing him for personal reasons. She made her way to the faculty building instead. The secretary could give her his address.
Or not.
"I'm not allowed to give out that information. I'm. Sorry." the man behind the counter said for the third time, rolling his eyes. "Look, Jules is fine. He just needed a day to himself."
"If I need to press this, I will," Crystal said. She'd begun floating about two minutes into the conversation, and at this point actually had to reach down to slam her hands on the counter. "It's official business. I need to speak with him."
"New Wave, as appreciated as you are, is not an official group! You aren't police or federal officers, or even deputised! This is none of your business Ms Pelham, and if you continue to 'press this' I will have you brought before academic tribunal! Good. Day."
Crystal growled as she stormed off. Ass.
She had the professor's email, but the man only checked his account at the end of each week. He hadn't provided his phone number, and the school just refused to give her his address.
'How the fuck am I supposed to find this guy?'
He'd told her that Taylor had powers and then left. He'd been busy enough with tests coming up that his office almost always had a student in it, and she hadn't thought to go to his house. But things were getting serious now. Officially, Taylor Hebert had already passed the first forty-eight. The BBPD was essentially off the case, waiting for more information before proceeding. The protectorate wouldn't get involved, surely, so that left her. Maybe her family, but her mom and aunt would probably say "leave it to the protectorate, they'll find your friend." fat chance. They hadn't yet.
She was more surprised that professor Hilbert wasn't doing more himself. The man knew Taylor's mother for god's sake!
Wait a minute.
He knew Taylor's parents. Her mom might be dead, but her father was still alive. If he had ever met the professor, maybe he could tell her where he lived.
She flew up once more, heading. . . where was she heading anyway?
'Shit! I barely know anything about her,' Crystal realised. Looks like it would be the hard way then.
She started back to her house. She'd try the web, maybe she'd get lucky.
'dammit, why is this so hard? Those Police shows make it look way easier than this.'
Colin's walk back to base was hard. Not physically, of course, he had a specially prepared training regimen that kept him in good health.
No, it was hard on his ego. His sense of identity. He realised just how the people of Brockton Bay saw heroes and it wasn't what he'd expected.
Colin had pasted a smiled on his face, greeting passersby and acting like the PR department always wanted him to. He had his picture taken with tourists, and vacationers. But the hometown folk? They sneered. He realized that they never saw the work behind the scenes. Never saw the struggle to keep up, to find villains before they could strike. They only saw the heroes come too late. The jewelry already stolen, property damage done... People already dead.
The people he protected didn't see him as a hero, they saw him as a failure.
It hurt.
Colin wondered what his mentor would think of the organisation he'd helped found. The history books would say he would be proud of what they'd accomplished. Here and now, though, Colin thought Hero would find it wanting.
The PRT trooper at the dock directed him to a Jetty after running him through the entrance examination. A small boat waited to take him and whoever else was there across to the Rig.
He sat in a free seat and rested his head against the wall behind him. He was in no hurry to get back.
Crystal's web browsing had yielded results. The local dockside newspaper had printed a story on the kidnapping, referencing the Heberts' house by street name. They didn't provide a number, but the picture would be nearly as good. She'd also found some more interesting news. Taylor's disappearance had caused the best kept riot in recent history. The Dockworker's Union had heavily protested the BBPD's lacklustre handling of the case, demanding they re-open it. Apparently her dad was kind of a big deal in it. The head of the local chapter had tried, somewhat successfully, to organize a joint strike with the other unions in town. The Mayor was denying anything of the sort naturally, but there were four Unions holding their strike notices like the sword of Damocles over his head. Industry would continue to shamble on maybe, but it would be a pathetic cripple until the skilled workers returned.
Address in hand, Crystal made her way to the Hebert house in hopes of finding Mr Hebert. Instead, she found a house with the police tape still up and no lights on. She still tried knocking, just in case, but it seemed no one was home.
So she tried the next best place, the Union office. After explaining herself to the woman at the front desk the ambience had gone from subtle hostility to relief and an earnest desire to help.
'These people really don't put much stock in heroes, huh. Can't really blame them.'
The man in charge told her that Danny Hebert was staying at a friend's place, Kurt Weber's. He gave her the address and wished her the best of luck, as well as asking her to keep her aunt Carol out of any disputes between the Union and city hall. Crystal said she would do her best.
She flew over to Jansen Cr, where the Webers lived. After trying the bell, twice, she almost went home. Instead, she banged on the door.
"Mr Hebert?" Bang "I know you're in there!" Bang "My name is Crystal Pelham!" Bang, Bang "I knew Taylor!" Bang, Kick. She blew a lock of hair our of her eye and sighed. Maybe that was excessive.
The door slowly opened, the handle gripped by a corpse. Or rather, someone who looked like one.
Danny Hebert looked nothing like his picture in the Union Hall. His already slim frame had sunk into the dangerously gaunt territory. Crow's feet stabbed into the bags under his red-veined eyes. Mussed up hair and rumpled clothing completed the look.
In short, he looked like hell.
"You knew my daughter?" he asked, barely focusing on her.
"Yes," she said. "A little. We're friends. Or starting to be anyway."
'God I sound like a moron.'
"In any case, I'm trying to help her, Mr Hebert, and to do that I need your help."
Danny Hebert looked nothing like his picture in the Union Hall. He looked like hell. Like he would fall over in a stiff breeze. But his eyes, in that moment, could take on the world.
"What do you need?"
He'd deliberately avoided Hannah for the rest of the afternoon. He knew it was too soon, they'd just start arguing again. It was sad that he couldn't really talk to anyone about it. As much as Dragon was a close confidant, she would agree with Hannah. She always took the side of the law. It was her one fault as a person, inflexibility.
He'd never particularly felt close to the other members of his team, and although he had begun talking to them and getting to know them better the habit was hard to break. So without a social outlet for his frustration, Colin threw it into his work like usual. Time ticked by without any thought as he worked, fingers deftly picking through wires. This little project was something he'd thought up after Squealer had stolen his bike. A remote activated EMP. He'd toyed with the idea a bit more after the fact. Any tinker worth their salt would harden delicate systems against such an attack, even one constantly on drugs. But that only helped if the pulse came from the outside of something.
His current iteration, Mk-6, used a small limpet shell to attach to an object. A shaped charge would crack open the casing and allow the EMP to hit the internal systems directly. Mks 1 through 4 hadn't even left the drawing room, but that was normal for Colin. He preferred one superior gadget to three sloppy ones.
He was just putting the finishing touches on the prototype when Ethan and Sam ran in. He could tell at a glance that they were freaked out.
"What's the problem?" Colin had a feeling that he didn't want to know.
They told him, Ethan bringing up a video on the monitor as Sam explained.
He was right.
Jacob, Jack Slash if you preferred his nom de guerre, was having fun. The most fun, in fact, that he'd had in a while. It had taken some time, but he had persuaded his companions to come along on a special event. It was all well and good, he said, to be feared. But shouldn't we give back to the community?
The small hamlet had maybe fifty or sixty people in it, almost no law enforcement, and had its own little broadcasting studio. It had been trivial.
Shatterbird had made an explosive entrance and she had been right in her assessment. He watched the shards of glass weave and cut entrancingly through the air as she hit her crescendo. Baroque really suited her. Sadly, it seemed his opinion was in the minority, but art required sacrifice after all.
The Siberian and Bonesaw had gone to work immediately. The striped woman had quelled any thoughts of rebellion with ease, though if he could take a bullet to the face and casually snap a rifle in half Jacob was sure he could reproduce the effect. Bonesaw had something special in mind. Once he'd told the girl why they were here, her face had lit up like the fourth of July. Ah well, she took after him that way. Ever the artiste.
From there it was simple. Cherish, the dear, was all too happy to get the studio up and running, her powers of persuasion had been enough to get the camera crew in place, Jack's own entrance was enough to keep them there. Once Burnscar, Crawler, and Mannequin rounded up the rest of the survivors, they could begin.
"Showtime."
"Introductions," said the man on the screen. "Likely won't be necessary, but for the spirit of this exercise, I shall assume they are.
"My name is Jack Slash," he said with his most charming smile. "And I'm proud to be both host and speaker for the duration of this broadcast."
"First, I'd like to address a certain someone. My muse, if you will. You have my most sincere thanks for the inspiration you've given me. And I'm not one to let such a gift go unappreciated. So, in short, thank you for your glowing nomination. I will prove worthy of it, I promise you."
The villain gestured to someone off-screen, and the camera angle adjusted. Bound on the newsroom floor were ten civilians, hands tied and mouths taped over with duct tape.
'Oh god,' Colin thought.
"We'll leave the best for last, shall we? For now, a taste, in the spirit of primetime television I bring to you a quiz. The rules are simple: two teams of three will compete. Answer correctly and you get a point, answer incorrectly and you lose a point. Twenty questions will make up each round, ten to each side. At the end of the round the team with the least points will lose a player. Any volunteers? No? Well I'm sure we can persuade you."
"Turn it off," Colin said. His mouth felt dry, his imagination running rampant with what those psychos could be doing. "I said turn it off, Sam!"
She did. The three of them took a moment to collect themselves.
"How long has this been up?"
"I believe I can answer that, Colin," Dragon's voice said. He turned to face the monitor, seeking comfort in the presence of his friend. "The video itself was posted to social media half an hour ago. I've already surveyed the scene. Local coroners have yet to get back to me, but the early estimate puts it at close to noon. They're already long gone, Colin. I'm sorry."
He just shook his head.
"Anything on this 'Muse' of his?"
"No, though given his previous actions I wouldn't discount the dedication being part of some sick game. I fear this may only be the beginning of whatever Jack has planned."
Colin sighed, shoulders slumped. The Slaughterhouse nine were a disease. He hated that they still existed. Another man might have wondered why the Triumvirate didn't simply swoop down upon them and end them once and for all. Colin didn't wonder, he knew. They were afraid of them. Just like he was. It was rational, expected even given past encounters, but that didn't help the sour taste in his mouth. The nine killed Hero, and sometimes it felt like they killed hope in the same blow.
"I need some time," he said. "Alone. I'm packing it in for the night."
The others looked stunned. "What about patrols tonight? The gangs aren't going to catch themselves!" Sam blurted out. She was so concerned with that, arresting criminals, it made sense given her background.
"Talk to Hannah if you want to patrol. I need to think."
"Come on Puppy, we should go," Since when was Ethan the voice of reason?
He waited until they were gone, leaving him alone in the room with Dragon frowning at him.
"The Director would be more than willing to give you vacation time, Colin. If you're feeling too stressed-"
"It's not the stress, Dragon. It's just been a long day." He didn't mean to snap at her, he knew she was just trying to help, but he really just wanted to be done with today. Dragon flinched before looking at him with pity.
"Good night Colin, don't let it get to you," she said as she disconnected.
Too late.
He shut down his equipment, turned off the lights, and walked to his quarters.
He didn't sleep much that night.
Ten days in the hands of that psycho, Coil. She actually missed Winslow, Sophia and Emma too now that she thought about it. She hadn't left the room since her incarceration began. Minor had brought in a man named Mr Pitter yesterday. He'd told her that Coil was growing restless. That he wanted her to use her power on him. She'd told him that she couldn't until she knew what kind of character he was. Mr Pitter had come back with a list of facts that Coil had deemed safe enough to let her read. He was a survivor. He was despicable. He was a symbol of everything going wrong in the Bay.
Something clicked. A symbolic character? Was it that simple? Taylor put a hand to her throat and winced. This was her home, no way in hell some guy like Coil was representative of it. And yet her power didn't lie.
She'd have to get rid of him.
Lisa was growing restless. Brian was OK, sure, but Alec and Rachel didn't really care about the Undersiders. They were in it for the money. Well, they all were really, but she could at least trust that Brian would side with her if she explained what was going on. She hoped.
Script had talked to her a few times, Using power to gauge me. But she didn't need her power to figure that one out. Coil was getting bolder, finally moving out of the shadows. Has another target. And wasn't that great. Lisa would be the first to say she was no upstanding citizen, but she did have standards.
Okay. Honestly, she just wanted the chance to shoot the fucker.
"She'd told him, she hadn't said anything to him." Coil's power a duology.
She thought about the times she'd spoken to Coil, both on the phone and in person. He'd acted decisively and without fear of consequence. Every previous interaction duplicated. Tested. Chosen.
That would certainly explain his actions.
She let out a frustrated groan and rolled out of bed, impersonating a zombie as she wandered to her kitchen. Eggs and bacon jumped into her frying pan as she fumbled with the coffee machine. Her emergency stash at home wasn't as good as the java joint on the boardwalk, but going there hadn't felt right since Script's capture.
When escape proved impossible, Lisa would have to trust her enemy True. Enemy inconclusive.
'Goddammit Script,' Lisa thought. She wasn't exactly sure how the girl was doing this without Coil's knowledge, but it was probably dangerous. She silently promised to make the most of it. It wasn't the best foretelling ever, but since when was prophecy a good thing?
Her breakfast eaten, Lisa plastered her trademark smirk on her face. The Undersiders had work to do, she could plot later.
Four days later and she still couldn't believe it. Taylor had powers? She was the one who had Armsmaster freaking out a month ago? Assault had passed on some choice clips, and honestly, most of New Wave just thought he was having a stress-induced breakdown. Crystal hadn't really given any thought to it being real.
'She writes reality? What does that even mean?'
Whatever it meant, her friend was in trouble. She might not have known Taylor long, but that didn't matter to her. Crystal would help her friend. Period and full stop.
'I hope she's okay...'
Crystal adjusted her flight pattern, she had to make a detour.
Colin didn't understand why Hannah was so insistent on owning a Jeep. Sure it was sturdy and it fit with her image, but she could have done the same with a Harley-Davidson. A lot of his own bike's tech could fit in a WLA without wrecking the aesthetic. He privately thought it would make her entrances much cooler.
"We're here," the woman in question said. 'Here' was a dump, specifically the Inner City Refuse Collection Center. It was one of the several places capes considered neutral ground, if not the most pleasant option. It was precisely because of that fact that they were here. They didn't want witnesses.
Colin eased out of the jeep, patting down his sides to ensure all his gear was in place. This was supposed to be a peaceful discussion but as much as Kaiser played by the rules, Colin couldn't be sure of the other Empire Capes. At least a couple had body counts, double that had itchy trigger fingers and a chip on their shoulder.
"Why are we here, Colin?" Hannah asked, her power flickering between a colt .45 and a kukri. "Kaiser won't tell the truth if he was behind it."
"He wasn't." Behind her scarf, Hannah quirked a brow at him.
"Think about it. If Kaiser organised her kidnapping, there would be a show. He might be a conniving bastard, but his people don't do subtle. The house would have had E88 symbols all over it. He would have waited until she was fair game, in costume. No this doesn't fit his MO at all."
Hannah just looked pensive, "I still don't see why we need to work with them. We'd be better off-" Her power crackled through it's green, gaseous form and settled into a high-powered rifle. "They're here."
They didn't have to wait long for the man himself to approach. With his usual pomp, Kaiser strode through the garbage like it was a kingdom. Fenja and Menja flanked him, just a step behind and ready for trouble. The small glint of a scope in the sunlight betrayed the position of a sniper.
'Hello, Victor.'
"Greetings Armsmaster, Miss Militia, to what do I owe the pleasure?" True to form, Brockton's resident Hitler wannabe played it off as if he hadn't fully investigated the situation before arriving. Forcing the other party to explain themselves, classic power play.
"The missing girl, Taylor Hebert," Colin said.
"You think I have her?" Kaiser said, his voice raised.
"I know you don't. But someone has come very close to breaking the rules here, and I know you'll want to set just as much of an example as I do."
"Armsmaster?" Hannah said, surprised yet again. She didn't approve. Too bad.
"And what would I gain from joining your crusade, hero? The adoration of the populace?"
"The respect of heroes for defending the unwritten rules. You'll recall that the Empire was treated somewhat favourably after the Fleur incident."
The twin Valkyries looked at each other as Kaiser stroked his chin. The helmet somewhat tainted the traditional villain pose, but the point was clear. Colin had been around the block enough times to know how this was going to go:
Kaiser would say that it's not enough, that he'd need concessions. Colin would agree to listen to his demands, regardless of the fact that he had no intention of granting them. The two would bicker while their respective subordinates watched each other with tense eyes. Then they would agree to the original proposal, they'd already set the terms. The rest of the show was for appearances sake. A hero and a villain couldn't be seen agreeing so quickly, regardless of how well they knew the other party.
Sure enough, he was right. Kaiser's demands of laxity and the release of some goons were refused. Colin stressed the importance of the rules, citing how big the shitstorm could be if more people disappeared from their homes. They shook hands. The Twins relaxed. Hannah did not.
They left the garbage heaps behind and began a quick patrol. More publicity than anything else, to remind the people that the heroes still existed. For all the good it did the Heberts.
"What was that back there," Hannah said after a few minutes. Her hands were clenched around the steering wheel.
"Negotiations," he said. No sense stretching the truth here.
"That's for the worst of times, Colin. Endbringers, Nilbog. The truce isn't for every little thing."
"So it's 'A little thing' now?" Colin said. "I thought you wanted to help these people."
"I. Do,"she said. She pulled over to the side of the road and looked at him for the first time since the meeting. "But there's a right way to do this and it doesn't include making deals with Nazis!"
"It's not a 'deal' Militia, I'm telling him to keep an eye out. The villains want to stay on top of this as much as we do."
"This isn't the old days Armsmaster. There are no more 'gentleman thieves' and we can have our leader corrupting his own ideals." She paused for breath, turning her body to face him. "You're a hero, Colin, you inspire people. We'll find Taylor, I swear we will, but I'm not willing to lose myself in the process. Are you?"
Colin worked his jaw, 'a world where everyone can be happy', and got out of the car.
"I'll walk back from here," he said.
"Colin!" he heard her say.
He ignored her and kept walking. She was wrong.
He just needed time.
"Danny?"
He lifted his head, the stubble on his face pulling slightly as it came unstuck from the desk.
"Yeah?" he answered. He fumbled for his glasses, pulling them on to see who'd woken him.
"Come on man, time to go home," Kurt said. The man hoisted Danny up, helping him out to his car, and started back to his house.
"Lacey cleared out the spare bedroom finally, so you can stop sleeping on the couch at least."
Danny nodded.
"And, uh, we found someone. To talk to I mean, she comes highly recommended-"
"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.
"Danny," Kurt said, stopping as his voice cracked. "Danny, you're a mess man. It's been over a week and you haven't gone home. You should at least talk to her, she could he-"
"I don't want to talk about it, I want my Daughter back!" his voice was scratchy from disuse, but he didn't care. His outburst was enough to buy him a night of careful silence from Kurt and Lacey, that was enough. Until she came home. Until he got his home back.
Crystal flew over the university grounds, the small specks of people below shifting in an endless wave. A few were taking photos, of course, not used to her comings and goings. Freshmen.
Professor Jules' office was locked and dark, his classes for the day marked with the slip excusing him for personal reasons. She made her way to the faculty building instead. The secretary could give her his address.
Or not.
"I'm not allowed to give out that information. I'm. Sorry." the man behind the counter said for the third time, rolling his eyes. "Look, Jules is fine. He just needed a day to himself."
"If I need to press this, I will," Crystal said. She'd begun floating about two minutes into the conversation, and at this point actually had to reach down to slam her hands on the counter. "It's official business. I need to speak with him."
"New Wave, as appreciated as you are, is not an official group! You aren't police or federal officers, or even deputised! This is none of your business Ms Pelham, and if you continue to 'press this' I will have you brought before academic tribunal! Good. Day."
Crystal growled as she stormed off. Ass.
She had the professor's email, but the man only checked his account at the end of each week. He hadn't provided his phone number, and the school just refused to give her his address.
'How the fuck am I supposed to find this guy?'
He'd told her that Taylor had powers and then left. He'd been busy enough with tests coming up that his office almost always had a student in it, and she hadn't thought to go to his house. But things were getting serious now. Officially, Taylor Hebert had already passed the first forty-eight. The BBPD was essentially off the case, waiting for more information before proceeding. The protectorate wouldn't get involved, surely, so that left her. Maybe her family, but her mom and aunt would probably say "leave it to the protectorate, they'll find your friend." fat chance. They hadn't yet.
She was more surprised that professor Hilbert wasn't doing more himself. The man knew Taylor's mother for god's sake!
Wait a minute.
He knew Taylor's parents. Her mom might be dead, but her father was still alive. If he had ever met the professor, maybe he could tell her where he lived.
She flew up once more, heading. . . where was she heading anyway?
'Shit! I barely know anything about her,' Crystal realised. Looks like it would be the hard way then.
She started back to her house. She'd try the web, maybe she'd get lucky.
'dammit, why is this so hard? Those Police shows make it look way easier than this.'
Colin's walk back to base was hard. Not physically, of course, he had a specially prepared training regimen that kept him in good health.
No, it was hard on his ego. His sense of identity. He realised just how the people of Brockton Bay saw heroes and it wasn't what he'd expected.
Colin had pasted a smiled on his face, greeting passersby and acting like the PR department always wanted him to. He had his picture taken with tourists, and vacationers. But the hometown folk? They sneered. He realized that they never saw the work behind the scenes. Never saw the struggle to keep up, to find villains before they could strike. They only saw the heroes come too late. The jewelry already stolen, property damage done... People already dead.
The people he protected didn't see him as a hero, they saw him as a failure.
It hurt.
Colin wondered what his mentor would think of the organisation he'd helped found. The history books would say he would be proud of what they'd accomplished. Here and now, though, Colin thought Hero would find it wanting.
The PRT trooper at the dock directed him to a Jetty after running him through the entrance examination. A small boat waited to take him and whoever else was there across to the Rig.
He sat in a free seat and rested his head against the wall behind him. He was in no hurry to get back.
Crystal's web browsing had yielded results. The local dockside newspaper had printed a story on the kidnapping, referencing the Heberts' house by street name. They didn't provide a number, but the picture would be nearly as good. She'd also found some more interesting news. Taylor's disappearance had caused the best kept riot in recent history. The Dockworker's Union had heavily protested the BBPD's lacklustre handling of the case, demanding they re-open it. Apparently her dad was kind of a big deal in it. The head of the local chapter had tried, somewhat successfully, to organize a joint strike with the other unions in town. The Mayor was denying anything of the sort naturally, but there were four Unions holding their strike notices like the sword of Damocles over his head. Industry would continue to shamble on maybe, but it would be a pathetic cripple until the skilled workers returned.
Address in hand, Crystal made her way to the Hebert house in hopes of finding Mr Hebert. Instead, she found a house with the police tape still up and no lights on. She still tried knocking, just in case, but it seemed no one was home.
So she tried the next best place, the Union office. After explaining herself to the woman at the front desk the ambience had gone from subtle hostility to relief and an earnest desire to help.
'These people really don't put much stock in heroes, huh. Can't really blame them.'
The man in charge told her that Danny Hebert was staying at a friend's place, Kurt Weber's. He gave her the address and wished her the best of luck, as well as asking her to keep her aunt Carol out of any disputes between the Union and city hall. Crystal said she would do her best.
She flew over to Jansen Cr, where the Webers lived. After trying the bell, twice, she almost went home. Instead, she banged on the door.
"Mr Hebert?" Bang "I know you're in there!" Bang "My name is Crystal Pelham!" Bang, Bang "I knew Taylor!" Bang, Kick. She blew a lock of hair our of her eye and sighed. Maybe that was excessive.
The door slowly opened, the handle gripped by a corpse. Or rather, someone who looked like one.
Danny Hebert looked nothing like his picture in the Union Hall. His already slim frame had sunk into the dangerously gaunt territory. Crow's feet stabbed into the bags under his red-veined eyes. Mussed up hair and rumpled clothing completed the look.
In short, he looked like hell.
"You knew my daughter?" he asked, barely focusing on her.
"Yes," she said. "A little. We're friends. Or starting to be anyway."
'God I sound like a moron.'
"In any case, I'm trying to help her, Mr Hebert, and to do that I need your help."
Danny Hebert looked nothing like his picture in the Union Hall. He looked like hell. Like he would fall over in a stiff breeze. But his eyes, in that moment, could take on the world.
"What do you need?"
He'd deliberately avoided Hannah for the rest of the afternoon. He knew it was too soon, they'd just start arguing again. It was sad that he couldn't really talk to anyone about it. As much as Dragon was a close confidant, she would agree with Hannah. She always took the side of the law. It was her one fault as a person, inflexibility.
He'd never particularly felt close to the other members of his team, and although he had begun talking to them and getting to know them better the habit was hard to break. So without a social outlet for his frustration, Colin threw it into his work like usual. Time ticked by without any thought as he worked, fingers deftly picking through wires. This little project was something he'd thought up after Squealer had stolen his bike. A remote activated EMP. He'd toyed with the idea a bit more after the fact. Any tinker worth their salt would harden delicate systems against such an attack, even one constantly on drugs. But that only helped if the pulse came from the outside of something.
His current iteration, Mk-6, used a small limpet shell to attach to an object. A shaped charge would crack open the casing and allow the EMP to hit the internal systems directly. Mks 1 through 4 hadn't even left the drawing room, but that was normal for Colin. He preferred one superior gadget to three sloppy ones.
He was just putting the finishing touches on the prototype when Ethan and Sam ran in. He could tell at a glance that they were freaked out.
"What's the problem?" Colin had a feeling that he didn't want to know.
They told him, Ethan bringing up a video on the monitor as Sam explained.
He was right.
Jacob, Jack Slash if you preferred his nom de guerre, was having fun. The most fun, in fact, that he'd had in a while. It had taken some time, but he had persuaded his companions to come along on a special event. It was all well and good, he said, to be feared. But shouldn't we give back to the community?
The small hamlet had maybe fifty or sixty people in it, almost no law enforcement, and had its own little broadcasting studio. It had been trivial.
Shatterbird had made an explosive entrance and she had been right in her assessment. He watched the shards of glass weave and cut entrancingly through the air as she hit her crescendo. Baroque really suited her. Sadly, it seemed his opinion was in the minority, but art required sacrifice after all.
The Siberian and Bonesaw had gone to work immediately. The striped woman had quelled any thoughts of rebellion with ease, though if he could take a bullet to the face and casually snap a rifle in half Jacob was sure he could reproduce the effect. Bonesaw had something special in mind. Once he'd told the girl why they were here, her face had lit up like the fourth of July. Ah well, she took after him that way. Ever the artiste.
From there it was simple. Cherish, the dear, was all too happy to get the studio up and running, her powers of persuasion had been enough to get the camera crew in place, Jack's own entrance was enough to keep them there. Once Burnscar, Crawler, and Mannequin rounded up the rest of the survivors, they could begin.
"Showtime."
"Introductions," said the man on the screen. "Likely won't be necessary, but for the spirit of this exercise, I shall assume they are.
"My name is Jack Slash," he said with his most charming smile. "And I'm proud to be both host and speaker for the duration of this broadcast."
"First, I'd like to address a certain someone. My muse, if you will. You have my most sincere thanks for the inspiration you've given me. And I'm not one to let such a gift go unappreciated. So, in short, thank you for your glowing nomination. I will prove worthy of it, I promise you."
The villain gestured to someone off-screen, and the camera angle adjusted. Bound on the newsroom floor were ten civilians, hands tied and mouths taped over with duct tape.
'Oh god,' Colin thought.
"We'll leave the best for last, shall we? For now, a taste, in the spirit of primetime television I bring to you a quiz. The rules are simple: two teams of three will compete. Answer correctly and you get a point, answer incorrectly and you lose a point. Twenty questions will make up each round, ten to each side. At the end of the round the team with the least points will lose a player. Any volunteers? No? Well I'm sure we can persuade you."
"Turn it off," Colin said. His mouth felt dry, his imagination running rampant with what those psychos could be doing. "I said turn it off, Sam!"
She did. The three of them took a moment to collect themselves.
"How long has this been up?"
"I believe I can answer that, Colin," Dragon's voice said. He turned to face the monitor, seeking comfort in the presence of his friend. "The video itself was posted to social media half an hour ago. I've already surveyed the scene. Local coroners have yet to get back to me, but the early estimate puts it at close to noon. They're already long gone, Colin. I'm sorry."
He just shook his head.
"Anything on this 'Muse' of his?"
"No, though given his previous actions I wouldn't discount the dedication being part of some sick game. I fear this may only be the beginning of whatever Jack has planned."
Colin sighed, shoulders slumped. The Slaughterhouse nine were a disease. He hated that they still existed. Another man might have wondered why the Triumvirate didn't simply swoop down upon them and end them once and for all. Colin didn't wonder, he knew. They were afraid of them. Just like he was. It was rational, expected even given past encounters, but that didn't help the sour taste in his mouth. The nine killed Hero, and sometimes it felt like they killed hope in the same blow.
"I need some time," he said. "Alone. I'm packing it in for the night."
The others looked stunned. "What about patrols tonight? The gangs aren't going to catch themselves!" Sam blurted out. She was so concerned with that, arresting criminals, it made sense given her background.
"Talk to Hannah if you want to patrol. I need to think."
"Come on Puppy, we should go," Since when was Ethan the voice of reason?
He waited until they were gone, leaving him alone in the room with Dragon frowning at him.
"The Director would be more than willing to give you vacation time, Colin. If you're feeling too stressed-"
"It's not the stress, Dragon. It's just been a long day." He didn't mean to snap at her, he knew she was just trying to help, but he really just wanted to be done with today. Dragon flinched before looking at him with pity.
"Good night Colin, don't let it get to you," she said as she disconnected.
Too late.
He shut down his equipment, turned off the lights, and walked to his quarters.
He didn't sleep much that night.
Hero's Journey 2.3
- Location
- Canada
March 15th, 2011
Danny pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. After stopping by the Heberts' for his truck, he had driven Crystal to Jules Hilbert's house. Crystal considered telling him she could get there faster on her own, but seeing how the man's face lit up when he said he could help had changed her mind. The professor's house was almost exactly like the man: Short, almost angry looking, and completely unfazed by the state of the neighbourhood.
"Thanks for the ride, Mr Hebert," she said.
"Anytime," he said. "I can wait around if you'd like, I've got the time."
"I-" she took another look at her friend's father. He'd drive himself crazy at the Webers' place. "I'd like that."
He nodded, fiddling with the radio. Crystal got out of the car and walked to the door. The knocker was shaped like a lion's head, and the grain of the light wood was clear through the varnish. It was easily the nicest house on the block. It wasn't much of a contest.
The professor answered on the third try, bustling over and squinting at Crystal from behind his glasses. He wore a burgundy housecoat over green flannel pyjamas, with a pair of light blue fuzzy slippers on his feet. His face was flushed with fever, and a sheen of sweat made his pallor gleam in the sun.
"Ms Pelham?" he asked, plucking his glasses off to clean them. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to talk to you about Taylor," she said. The older man looked at her before squinting to the beat-up truck in his driveway.
"Very well," he said. "And tell Daniel he may as well come in. I think he ought to hear this too."
"You'd out Taylor to her dad?"
"Crystal, this goes beyond having a secret. I haven't been able to contact him myself, otherwise, he would already know." It made her uncomfortable, a secret identity had always been a guilty fantasy of hers, but he made a good point. He was her dad, he should know why Taylor was kidnapped.
"I'll go tell him," she said.
Jules Hilbert was apparently a man who enjoyed colour in his life. Red and green tints dominated everything from the drapes to the tableware, the odd combinations somewhat dizzying to look at. Danny was unfazed as he entered behind her, actually looking more lively as he glanced around the room.
"Still the same, I see," he said to Jules.
"Yes, Nora may no longer be with us, but I can't bring myself to get rid of her things. You know how much she loved Christmas."
The two men shared a look of sadness, remembering lost loved ones.
"Now then, before we get to the matter at hand could I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"
"Coffee please," Danny said.
"Same, thank you," Crystal said.
Jules bumbled about his home for a moment, gathering cream and sugar in a fine china set, the winter scenes out of place but still homey. He filled a pot from the brewer and carried the ensemble over on a tray, dipping a tea bag into a cup for himself. Once everyone had their drink on hand, he continued.
"Now then, worst news first, I think that's for the best," Jules said. "Daniel, your daughter had a trigger event. She's a parahuman." Mr Hebert took a long pull from his coffee, grasping the cup in both hands.
"I thought something was wrong. Hell, I probably should have expected it in this town."
"S'not wrong," Crystal became aware of both men looking at her questioningly as she realised she had said that out loud. She cleared her throat and continued.
"It's not wrong. Sorry, Mr Hebert, I know this is hard for you, but having powers. . . It's not bad or abnormal, we might get them from bad experiences but I can't stand people thinking of parahumans as having a condition. We aren't wrong."
The men were floored, taking a moment to compose themselves. Shame was present on professor Hilbert's face, Danny's was more subdued. Thinking of Taylor, no doubt.
"I'm very sorry Ms Pelham, I should have minded my phrasing. No doubt your public identity has led to some unsavoury debate amongst your peers."
She started to say something but bit it off. It wasn't the time for this talk. Jules waited a moment to see if she had anything to say and seeing that she was done he continued.
"In any case, Taylor has an ability. It's a bit unconventional. Given my area of expertise, she sought out my help in controlling it.
"In effect, she is writing a story. The character's, however, are real people. Armsmaster is her main protagonist, for example. We were experimenting with alternate points of view before she was. . . taken. Ms Pelham mentioned that something in one of their conversations had resonated with Taylor, but I didn't get to see the results of whatever was said."
"She's writing Armsmaster's life?" Danny said, his coffee long forgotten by this point as he absorbed the information.
"Not quite," Jules said. "She is writing about all of the events surrounding her point of view subjects. The focus, however, is on Armsmaster as the hero of the tale.
"Her powers lend themselves to precognition as well, through the literary device of foreshadowing, as well as a few other tricks. We have yet to try a lot of the other skills and tools that could potentially work with her ability."
"That's a lot to take in," Danny said. Crystal was beginning to feel like a third wheel at this point.
'This was my idea in the first place!' she didn't let her internal pouting show on her face, though, that would be childish.
"So what do we do now?" she asked. "I think we should tell Armsmaster."
"No," Jules said. "I've met with the man, but I can't say for certain whether he would help us."
"He's a hero. Why wouldn't he help?" Danny said.
"Consider this: Your daughter is a powerful parahuman, capable of seemingly speaking in a target's mind. This gives an uncomfortable parallel."
"The Simurgh," he said. Crystal shuddered a bit at the name.
"Precisely. Whether or not she actually speaks in their mind, that is the observable effect. This would justify a high master rating,and given the courts' current treatment of master-class abilities I'm sure you can see the issue."
"You're afraid they'll see Taylor as the second coming of an Endbringer?"
"Third actually, I'm fairly certain the tabloids are currently calling Canary by that title." That rankled her. It had been a topic of debate in her law course. She had argued that Canary's incident was clear-cut. A mixture of self-defense and accidental use of a parahuman ability. Her opinion had been in the minority, overwhelmingly so, and the professor had taken her aside after class to explain why she of all people should know better. And her family wondered why she hated that class.
"So we do nothing," she said, glaring at the man.
"That's not what I'm suggesting at all," Jules said. "I'm saying we need to be careful. There are cases emerging where young parahumans are being sentenced to the birdcage for the crime of being 'Potentially dangerous'. There is a serious issue with how the law is treating your kind, Crystal, and I don't want the next target to be Taylor."
"Right," she said. "But we need help. We can't keep on investigating with just us three. I'm raising concerns with my family already, and you know that if I tell them they'll tell the Protectorate."
"I'm trying to do what's best for Taylor," the professor said.
"So am I!"
"Shut up!" Danny shouted, speaking up for the first time in minutes. "We all want to help my daughter. That's why we're here. We aren't doing anything by arguing over who wants to help more. So the protectorate and New Wave are out. Ditto for the Guild, way outside their expertise. So we turn to the only ones who can help us."
"You're suggesting-"
"Villains, yes. I have a few boys I can talk to. Gerry works for Uber and Leet, and I know at least a few who pay Homage to the ABB. They aren't great options, but they're there."
"And how do you think they'll react to a new parahuman, they'll want her too," she said.
"Not like this. They won't keep her from home. If I end up in debt to some bastard, so be it. Not like the straight and narrow has done so well for my family."
There wasn't really anything she could say to that. Jules fiddled with his cup for a moment before sighing. His nod ended the argument.
'Laserdream, Villain extraordinaire. God, I really hope this isn't a mistake.'
Coil died.
Thomas Calvert sprang out of bed, slipping boots onto his feet and rushing to his car.
Thomas Calvert sat in his bed, unnerved by his pet's words. He would wait until his other self could speak to her in person. Then he would act.
The early morning traffic was a pale shadow of its rush-hour self, the few cars he passed barely lighting up the street between lampposts. His base was an even ten-minute drive from home.
His minion met him at the garage, Mr Pitter handing him a fresh suit as they climbed into the hidden elevator. The minute-long descent was long enough for him to get changed.
Mr Pitter and Coil left the elevator, joining with Minor and one of his men, Senegal, as they walked towards his pet's room.
"Status?" Coil asked.
"Nothing until ten minutes ago, sir," the mercenary said. "She got up, wrote something, and then started laughing."
'Laugh at him, would she?' he thought angrily. His pet was acting out. That wouldn't do.
They finally reached the room in question, Minor and Senegal drawing weapons before opening the door.
"Hello, pet," he said.
"It's true," she said. She had no need to ask why he was there.
"I need more information," Coil said.
"I don't have any."
"I Really must insist," he said. Behind him, Senegal raised his sidearm and took aim at her head.
"I. Don't. Have anything," she said. "You know how this works by now. I can only write for future if it's true! 'Coil Died' I don't know anything else." Disappointing. In his anger, Coil made a small nudge of his left shoulder.
Senegal fired.
'That was incredibly irritating,' Thomas Calvert thought to himself. He reached over to his bedside and picked up an unmarked, black phone. He pressed '1', and waited through two dial tones before Mr Pitter picked up.
"Put Script on the line," he said. He waited while Mr Pitter did just that.
"It's true," she said from the other side of the line.
"Tell me the minute you have more information. You will not sleep until I have my answers, am I clear?"
"It doesn't-"
"Work that way? Yes, pet, so you say. But this isn't a negotiation." She was silent for a moment, and he could hear her shaky breath through the phone.
"Fine." then she hung up. So damn willful. He really needed to fix that.
Crisis over, for the time being, Thomas Calvert went back to bed.
Taylor Hebert handed the phone to Mr Pitter and waited until the man had gone. Once he had, she put a hand to the left side of her face.
"He shot me," she said quietly. She remembered the pain, the sudden overwhelming sense of nothing. "He actually shot me."
She would remember that. And Coil would pay.
After dropping Crystal off near her house, Danny had driven to what most people considered China town. Then he drove a little further. He pulled into a side street and parked in an alley, making sure to put the lock on his steering wheel. He walked a few blocks, trying to remember the layout of this part of town, before finally reaching an old apartment building. He took the steps two at a time until he got to the third floor.
He hoped Tong still lived here. The man had worked for the Union once, but sadly a lack of work got him bumped by a senior member. Danny hoped the man didn't hold a grudge. The last he'd heard of Tong was that he'd joined the ABB. Meeting with him was potentially dangerous, but if he could get even a few more eyes searching for Taylor it'd be worth it.
Even if he became indebted to the Dragon.
He knocked.
Tong Jie looked the same, more or less, but the pitch-black sunglasses he wore made him seem so very different from the smiling man Danny had known. His brown eyes were now hidden, and his shaggy black hair was slicked back and gathered at the nape of the neck. The loose fitting dress shirt and slacks were both a midnight blue, contrasting with a white tie. A dragon-shaped pin clipped the tie to his shirt.
As Tong took in Danny's beleaguered appearance, he raised his brows. Then he cocked back his fist and gave Danny a right hook. Danny rocked back on his heels, he wasn't as strong as he used to be, hell he wasn't even as strong as he was last week, but he knew how to brawl, and more importantly,how to take a punch. He considered getting into a row with Tong, but his decision was made for him.
"You look like shit, man," Tong said as he stepped back into his apartment, leaving the door wide open. "Want a beer?"
March 17th, 2011
For Lisa, the last two days had been incredibly taxing. Coil was up to something, but she wasn't sure what it was just yet. He was pushing the Undersiders to do something big. Front page news big. Brian wasn't having any of it. Rachel was on the fence, making it two for and two against the idea. She needed to persuade one or the other. She had no illusions that to Coil, this was a non-negotiable job. No matter what his official line to the group was. They would do this, or she would pay. Lisa really didn't want to consider what Coil would do as an incentive.
Rachel was at first blush the easier of the two. Appeal to what she cares about. Dogs.
If Lisa stressed how much easier it would be to take care of them with the money, she might cave. She would have offered her share if it didn't come off as so suspicious. The problem was that Rachel hated her, and basically wouldn't listen to a word she said.
That left Brian. As devious and powerful as his costume made him appear, Brian was cautious at heart. Coil had already promised him what he wanted, so aside from speeding up that deal he wasn't wanting for anything.
That might just work. She'd have to talk to Coil about it.
Back to the hard part, though. What to do. They could hit the Ruby Dreams, but she didn't fancy pissing off the resident rage monster. No, they had to do something...classic.
The Undersiders were known as the break and enter masters here in town. They could do something important, to assert their power, like rob a bank. Nearly a rite of passage, that.
Or maybe something goofy, play upon their age to get the public less worried. With the Bay like it was, the second option might be better. So what could it be?
Lisa grinned. She had just the thing.
"You want us to what?" Brian asked, eyebrows raised high.
"Break into the mayor's house," Lisa said.
"His house? Lisa, are you insane?" he said.
"Must be. There's no money in it," Alec said from his sprawled out position on the couch. Rachel was sitting cross-legged on the stairs, quietly grooming Brutus as she glowered at them.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, Alec's right," "Hey!" "There's no money, no rep, and no reason!"
"That's where you're wrong~" Lisa sing-songed at him. "We get away with this? First ones to go face to face with the mayor since the Marche dissolved. Rep? Easy, we're breaking into the home of the man with the Protectorate on speed-dial. While he's home."
"This makes it less insane how, exactly?" Brian said. As much as he was the leader, he tended to defer to her ideas. He really didn't want to do this.
"Because, look at the bay. We've got a missing person, we're three seconds away from a riot, and the E88 and ABB aren't just skirmishing anymore!" Yesterday had marked the first big battle between the factions. Kaiser and his crew had been 'Searching' for the missing girl 'in the interest of the public good'. Which boiled down to his thugs shaking down minority communities and taking their stuff. Lung had been, surprisingly, better about it. He went around, by himself mostly, and asked questions. Pointedly. He had had a decent amount of success, who was going to lie to Lung of all people? But his investigation got derailed when the Empire walked into his territory.
Two bruisers yelling at each other had escalated into a straight up brawl between Lung and Kaiser's Valkyries. Thirty-two bystanders had been sent to the hospital in various states after Menja (or Fenja?) had thrown Lung into a construction yard. He had retaliated by using the crane as a hammer. The street didn't survive the impact.
Whatever the original argument, the two sides were at war, and most people were waiting for the other shoe to drop. The Protectorate was out in full force, both as a PR stunt and in case another Cape fight broke out. The PRT was doing considerably more, and Lisa had read some internal memo's saying that the mayor was in talks with the governor to declare martial law if things escalated further.
That wasn't something anybody wanted.
"Pulling a major crime right now would be suicide. Hell, we might not get work for a while if this keeps up. The boss is offering us a month's pay, each, to be a nuisance. We can do that with a big prank, maybe make a statement," Lisa said. Alec was snickering on the couch, Planning pranks mentally. He's in. Rachel was looking that unique combination of angry and confused that she was so good at. Lisa wasn't so great at gauging her, so she decided to err on the side of caution.
"And if someone wanted to tell the mayor to increase funding for the local animal shelters, they'd have a captive audience," she said. Brian gave her a glare. Knows what I'm doing. Not happy.Rachel frowned deeper before relaxing. "Fine."
"Excellent," Lisa said, clapping her hands. "I'll get to planning then."
Brian gave her a look she was very familiar with. They would be talking, soon.
Lisa was more concerned with letting Coil know her head was off the chopping block.
'For now,' She thought. She made the call.
Tong had come for him at work.
After Danny's meeting with the ABB, they'd agreed to help. . . If he reciprocated. They were trying to move more contraband in order to push out the Merchants. The Docks, dilapidated as they were, were still the best way to do that. They had asked him to waive some customs on a few shipments.
God help him, he did it.
Next thing he knew, the Empire and ABB were at each other's throat. The massive destruction of yesterday wasn't what scared him the most. It was the ABB's new found firepower. Automatic weapons had begun to replace the semi-auto pistols they had favoured. They could have been in those sea cans Danny had waived through. He shuddered at the implications.
And now the man who had introduced him to the crime bosses was waiting for him in the lobby. When Tong saw him walk down the stairs, he walked over and grabbed him by the arm.
"We need to talk, Dan," he said.
"What about?" Danny said.
"About why you got the fuckin' Empire involved. Shit, man, I knew you were desperate but they're bad people. And I'm saying this as a guy who busts knees for a living. I'm the one who OKed you to the boss, so if you're a double dealer I get in the shit too."
"I didn't talk to them, Tong."
"That's for Lung to decide, man. Good thing you wore the brown pants."
Tong took Danny to his car, an old Ford Siesta, and gave him what he probably thought was a sympathetic look. For his part, Danny just tried to stay calm. It was too late to back out now.
"Coil Died"
The words had echoed through his head since his pet had said them. Coil wasn't sure what that meant, and Taylor had been uncooperative. For now, Minor's men took turns watching her from inside the room, making sure his orders were obeyed. He needed answers.
And therein lay the problem. He needed answers. And despite what he had hoped, his pet was more than useless, a broken Cassandra, when it came to predicting the future. He needed a more reliable source.
He had to accelerate his plans quite drastically.
"Be swift, Tattletale, I am not a patient man," he said as he hung up the phone.
The timing couldn't be worse. Between the Protectorate and the gangs, half the city was out and looking for the Hebert girl. An overt action such as what he needed would draw a lot of attention.
Thankfully for him, his power made timing a breeze.
"Mr Pitter," he addressed the man standing, as always, nearby and ready to assist. "Get me whatever information you can on the Alcotts."
Danny pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. After stopping by the Heberts' for his truck, he had driven Crystal to Jules Hilbert's house. Crystal considered telling him she could get there faster on her own, but seeing how the man's face lit up when he said he could help had changed her mind. The professor's house was almost exactly like the man: Short, almost angry looking, and completely unfazed by the state of the neighbourhood.
"Thanks for the ride, Mr Hebert," she said.
"Anytime," he said. "I can wait around if you'd like, I've got the time."
"I-" she took another look at her friend's father. He'd drive himself crazy at the Webers' place. "I'd like that."
He nodded, fiddling with the radio. Crystal got out of the car and walked to the door. The knocker was shaped like a lion's head, and the grain of the light wood was clear through the varnish. It was easily the nicest house on the block. It wasn't much of a contest.
The professor answered on the third try, bustling over and squinting at Crystal from behind his glasses. He wore a burgundy housecoat over green flannel pyjamas, with a pair of light blue fuzzy slippers on his feet. His face was flushed with fever, and a sheen of sweat made his pallor gleam in the sun.
"Ms Pelham?" he asked, plucking his glasses off to clean them. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to talk to you about Taylor," she said. The older man looked at her before squinting to the beat-up truck in his driveway.
"Very well," he said. "And tell Daniel he may as well come in. I think he ought to hear this too."
"You'd out Taylor to her dad?"
"Crystal, this goes beyond having a secret. I haven't been able to contact him myself, otherwise, he would already know." It made her uncomfortable, a secret identity had always been a guilty fantasy of hers, but he made a good point. He was her dad, he should know why Taylor was kidnapped.
"I'll go tell him," she said.
Jules Hilbert was apparently a man who enjoyed colour in his life. Red and green tints dominated everything from the drapes to the tableware, the odd combinations somewhat dizzying to look at. Danny was unfazed as he entered behind her, actually looking more lively as he glanced around the room.
"Still the same, I see," he said to Jules.
"Yes, Nora may no longer be with us, but I can't bring myself to get rid of her things. You know how much she loved Christmas."
The two men shared a look of sadness, remembering lost loved ones.
"Now then, before we get to the matter at hand could I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"
"Coffee please," Danny said.
"Same, thank you," Crystal said.
Jules bumbled about his home for a moment, gathering cream and sugar in a fine china set, the winter scenes out of place but still homey. He filled a pot from the brewer and carried the ensemble over on a tray, dipping a tea bag into a cup for himself. Once everyone had their drink on hand, he continued.
"Now then, worst news first, I think that's for the best," Jules said. "Daniel, your daughter had a trigger event. She's a parahuman." Mr Hebert took a long pull from his coffee, grasping the cup in both hands.
"I thought something was wrong. Hell, I probably should have expected it in this town."
"S'not wrong," Crystal became aware of both men looking at her questioningly as she realised she had said that out loud. She cleared her throat and continued.
"It's not wrong. Sorry, Mr Hebert, I know this is hard for you, but having powers. . . It's not bad or abnormal, we might get them from bad experiences but I can't stand people thinking of parahumans as having a condition. We aren't wrong."
The men were floored, taking a moment to compose themselves. Shame was present on professor Hilbert's face, Danny's was more subdued. Thinking of Taylor, no doubt.
"I'm very sorry Ms Pelham, I should have minded my phrasing. No doubt your public identity has led to some unsavoury debate amongst your peers."
She started to say something but bit it off. It wasn't the time for this talk. Jules waited a moment to see if she had anything to say and seeing that she was done he continued.
"In any case, Taylor has an ability. It's a bit unconventional. Given my area of expertise, she sought out my help in controlling it.
"In effect, she is writing a story. The character's, however, are real people. Armsmaster is her main protagonist, for example. We were experimenting with alternate points of view before she was. . . taken. Ms Pelham mentioned that something in one of their conversations had resonated with Taylor, but I didn't get to see the results of whatever was said."
"She's writing Armsmaster's life?" Danny said, his coffee long forgotten by this point as he absorbed the information.
"Not quite," Jules said. "She is writing about all of the events surrounding her point of view subjects. The focus, however, is on Armsmaster as the hero of the tale.
"Her powers lend themselves to precognition as well, through the literary device of foreshadowing, as well as a few other tricks. We have yet to try a lot of the other skills and tools that could potentially work with her ability."
"That's a lot to take in," Danny said. Crystal was beginning to feel like a third wheel at this point.
'This was my idea in the first place!' she didn't let her internal pouting show on her face, though, that would be childish.
"So what do we do now?" she asked. "I think we should tell Armsmaster."
"No," Jules said. "I've met with the man, but I can't say for certain whether he would help us."
"He's a hero. Why wouldn't he help?" Danny said.
"Consider this: Your daughter is a powerful parahuman, capable of seemingly speaking in a target's mind. This gives an uncomfortable parallel."
"The Simurgh," he said. Crystal shuddered a bit at the name.
"Precisely. Whether or not she actually speaks in their mind, that is the observable effect. This would justify a high master rating,and given the courts' current treatment of master-class abilities I'm sure you can see the issue."
"You're afraid they'll see Taylor as the second coming of an Endbringer?"
"Third actually, I'm fairly certain the tabloids are currently calling Canary by that title." That rankled her. It had been a topic of debate in her law course. She had argued that Canary's incident was clear-cut. A mixture of self-defense and accidental use of a parahuman ability. Her opinion had been in the minority, overwhelmingly so, and the professor had taken her aside after class to explain why she of all people should know better. And her family wondered why she hated that class.
"So we do nothing," she said, glaring at the man.
"That's not what I'm suggesting at all," Jules said. "I'm saying we need to be careful. There are cases emerging where young parahumans are being sentenced to the birdcage for the crime of being 'Potentially dangerous'. There is a serious issue with how the law is treating your kind, Crystal, and I don't want the next target to be Taylor."
"Right," she said. "But we need help. We can't keep on investigating with just us three. I'm raising concerns with my family already, and you know that if I tell them they'll tell the Protectorate."
"I'm trying to do what's best for Taylor," the professor said.
"So am I!"
"Shut up!" Danny shouted, speaking up for the first time in minutes. "We all want to help my daughter. That's why we're here. We aren't doing anything by arguing over who wants to help more. So the protectorate and New Wave are out. Ditto for the Guild, way outside their expertise. So we turn to the only ones who can help us."
"You're suggesting-"
"Villains, yes. I have a few boys I can talk to. Gerry works for Uber and Leet, and I know at least a few who pay Homage to the ABB. They aren't great options, but they're there."
"And how do you think they'll react to a new parahuman, they'll want her too," she said.
"Not like this. They won't keep her from home. If I end up in debt to some bastard, so be it. Not like the straight and narrow has done so well for my family."
There wasn't really anything she could say to that. Jules fiddled with his cup for a moment before sighing. His nod ended the argument.
'Laserdream, Villain extraordinaire. God, I really hope this isn't a mistake.'
Coil died.
Thomas Calvert sprang out of bed, slipping boots onto his feet and rushing to his car.
Thomas Calvert sat in his bed, unnerved by his pet's words. He would wait until his other self could speak to her in person. Then he would act.
The early morning traffic was a pale shadow of its rush-hour self, the few cars he passed barely lighting up the street between lampposts. His base was an even ten-minute drive from home.
His minion met him at the garage, Mr Pitter handing him a fresh suit as they climbed into the hidden elevator. The minute-long descent was long enough for him to get changed.
Mr Pitter and Coil left the elevator, joining with Minor and one of his men, Senegal, as they walked towards his pet's room.
"Status?" Coil asked.
"Nothing until ten minutes ago, sir," the mercenary said. "She got up, wrote something, and then started laughing."
'Laugh at him, would she?' he thought angrily. His pet was acting out. That wouldn't do.
They finally reached the room in question, Minor and Senegal drawing weapons before opening the door.
"Hello, pet," he said.
"It's true," she said. She had no need to ask why he was there.
"I need more information," Coil said.
"I don't have any."
"I Really must insist," he said. Behind him, Senegal raised his sidearm and took aim at her head.
"I. Don't. Have anything," she said. "You know how this works by now. I can only write for future if it's true! 'Coil Died' I don't know anything else." Disappointing. In his anger, Coil made a small nudge of his left shoulder.
Senegal fired.
'That was incredibly irritating,' Thomas Calvert thought to himself. He reached over to his bedside and picked up an unmarked, black phone. He pressed '1', and waited through two dial tones before Mr Pitter picked up.
"Put Script on the line," he said. He waited while Mr Pitter did just that.
"It's true," she said from the other side of the line.
"Tell me the minute you have more information. You will not sleep until I have my answers, am I clear?"
"It doesn't-"
"Work that way? Yes, pet, so you say. But this isn't a negotiation." She was silent for a moment, and he could hear her shaky breath through the phone.
"Fine." then she hung up. So damn willful. He really needed to fix that.
Crisis over, for the time being, Thomas Calvert went back to bed.
Taylor Hebert handed the phone to Mr Pitter and waited until the man had gone. Once he had, she put a hand to the left side of her face.
"He shot me," she said quietly. She remembered the pain, the sudden overwhelming sense of nothing. "He actually shot me."
She would remember that. And Coil would pay.
After dropping Crystal off near her house, Danny had driven to what most people considered China town. Then he drove a little further. He pulled into a side street and parked in an alley, making sure to put the lock on his steering wheel. He walked a few blocks, trying to remember the layout of this part of town, before finally reaching an old apartment building. He took the steps two at a time until he got to the third floor.
He hoped Tong still lived here. The man had worked for the Union once, but sadly a lack of work got him bumped by a senior member. Danny hoped the man didn't hold a grudge. The last he'd heard of Tong was that he'd joined the ABB. Meeting with him was potentially dangerous, but if he could get even a few more eyes searching for Taylor it'd be worth it.
Even if he became indebted to the Dragon.
He knocked.
Tong Jie looked the same, more or less, but the pitch-black sunglasses he wore made him seem so very different from the smiling man Danny had known. His brown eyes were now hidden, and his shaggy black hair was slicked back and gathered at the nape of the neck. The loose fitting dress shirt and slacks were both a midnight blue, contrasting with a white tie. A dragon-shaped pin clipped the tie to his shirt.
As Tong took in Danny's beleaguered appearance, he raised his brows. Then he cocked back his fist and gave Danny a right hook. Danny rocked back on his heels, he wasn't as strong as he used to be, hell he wasn't even as strong as he was last week, but he knew how to brawl, and more importantly,how to take a punch. He considered getting into a row with Tong, but his decision was made for him.
"You look like shit, man," Tong said as he stepped back into his apartment, leaving the door wide open. "Want a beer?"
March 17th, 2011
For Lisa, the last two days had been incredibly taxing. Coil was up to something, but she wasn't sure what it was just yet. He was pushing the Undersiders to do something big. Front page news big. Brian wasn't having any of it. Rachel was on the fence, making it two for and two against the idea. She needed to persuade one or the other. She had no illusions that to Coil, this was a non-negotiable job. No matter what his official line to the group was. They would do this, or she would pay. Lisa really didn't want to consider what Coil would do as an incentive.
Rachel was at first blush the easier of the two. Appeal to what she cares about. Dogs.
If Lisa stressed how much easier it would be to take care of them with the money, she might cave. She would have offered her share if it didn't come off as so suspicious. The problem was that Rachel hated her, and basically wouldn't listen to a word she said.
That left Brian. As devious and powerful as his costume made him appear, Brian was cautious at heart. Coil had already promised him what he wanted, so aside from speeding up that deal he wasn't wanting for anything.
That might just work. She'd have to talk to Coil about it.
Back to the hard part, though. What to do. They could hit the Ruby Dreams, but she didn't fancy pissing off the resident rage monster. No, they had to do something...classic.
The Undersiders were known as the break and enter masters here in town. They could do something important, to assert their power, like rob a bank. Nearly a rite of passage, that.
Or maybe something goofy, play upon their age to get the public less worried. With the Bay like it was, the second option might be better. So what could it be?
Lisa grinned. She had just the thing.
"You want us to what?" Brian asked, eyebrows raised high.
"Break into the mayor's house," Lisa said.
"His house? Lisa, are you insane?" he said.
"Must be. There's no money in it," Alec said from his sprawled out position on the couch. Rachel was sitting cross-legged on the stairs, quietly grooming Brutus as she glowered at them.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, Alec's right," "Hey!" "There's no money, no rep, and no reason!"
"That's where you're wrong~" Lisa sing-songed at him. "We get away with this? First ones to go face to face with the mayor since the Marche dissolved. Rep? Easy, we're breaking into the home of the man with the Protectorate on speed-dial. While he's home."
"This makes it less insane how, exactly?" Brian said. As much as he was the leader, he tended to defer to her ideas. He really didn't want to do this.
"Because, look at the bay. We've got a missing person, we're three seconds away from a riot, and the E88 and ABB aren't just skirmishing anymore!" Yesterday had marked the first big battle between the factions. Kaiser and his crew had been 'Searching' for the missing girl 'in the interest of the public good'. Which boiled down to his thugs shaking down minority communities and taking their stuff. Lung had been, surprisingly, better about it. He went around, by himself mostly, and asked questions. Pointedly. He had had a decent amount of success, who was going to lie to Lung of all people? But his investigation got derailed when the Empire walked into his territory.
Two bruisers yelling at each other had escalated into a straight up brawl between Lung and Kaiser's Valkyries. Thirty-two bystanders had been sent to the hospital in various states after Menja (or Fenja?) had thrown Lung into a construction yard. He had retaliated by using the crane as a hammer. The street didn't survive the impact.
Whatever the original argument, the two sides were at war, and most people were waiting for the other shoe to drop. The Protectorate was out in full force, both as a PR stunt and in case another Cape fight broke out. The PRT was doing considerably more, and Lisa had read some internal memo's saying that the mayor was in talks with the governor to declare martial law if things escalated further.
That wasn't something anybody wanted.
"Pulling a major crime right now would be suicide. Hell, we might not get work for a while if this keeps up. The boss is offering us a month's pay, each, to be a nuisance. We can do that with a big prank, maybe make a statement," Lisa said. Alec was snickering on the couch, Planning pranks mentally. He's in. Rachel was looking that unique combination of angry and confused that she was so good at. Lisa wasn't so great at gauging her, so she decided to err on the side of caution.
"And if someone wanted to tell the mayor to increase funding for the local animal shelters, they'd have a captive audience," she said. Brian gave her a glare. Knows what I'm doing. Not happy.Rachel frowned deeper before relaxing. "Fine."
"Excellent," Lisa said, clapping her hands. "I'll get to planning then."
Brian gave her a look she was very familiar with. They would be talking, soon.
Lisa was more concerned with letting Coil know her head was off the chopping block.
'For now,' She thought. She made the call.
Tong had come for him at work.
After Danny's meeting with the ABB, they'd agreed to help. . . If he reciprocated. They were trying to move more contraband in order to push out the Merchants. The Docks, dilapidated as they were, were still the best way to do that. They had asked him to waive some customs on a few shipments.
God help him, he did it.
Next thing he knew, the Empire and ABB were at each other's throat. The massive destruction of yesterday wasn't what scared him the most. It was the ABB's new found firepower. Automatic weapons had begun to replace the semi-auto pistols they had favoured. They could have been in those sea cans Danny had waived through. He shuddered at the implications.
And now the man who had introduced him to the crime bosses was waiting for him in the lobby. When Tong saw him walk down the stairs, he walked over and grabbed him by the arm.
"We need to talk, Dan," he said.
"What about?" Danny said.
"About why you got the fuckin' Empire involved. Shit, man, I knew you were desperate but they're bad people. And I'm saying this as a guy who busts knees for a living. I'm the one who OKed you to the boss, so if you're a double dealer I get in the shit too."
"I didn't talk to them, Tong."
"That's for Lung to decide, man. Good thing you wore the brown pants."
Tong took Danny to his car, an old Ford Siesta, and gave him what he probably thought was a sympathetic look. For his part, Danny just tried to stay calm. It was too late to back out now.
"Coil Died"
The words had echoed through his head since his pet had said them. Coil wasn't sure what that meant, and Taylor had been uncooperative. For now, Minor's men took turns watching her from inside the room, making sure his orders were obeyed. He needed answers.
And therein lay the problem. He needed answers. And despite what he had hoped, his pet was more than useless, a broken Cassandra, when it came to predicting the future. He needed a more reliable source.
He had to accelerate his plans quite drastically.
"Be swift, Tattletale, I am not a patient man," he said as he hung up the phone.
The timing couldn't be worse. Between the Protectorate and the gangs, half the city was out and looking for the Hebert girl. An overt action such as what he needed would draw a lot of attention.
Thankfully for him, his power made timing a breeze.
"Mr Pitter," he addressed the man standing, as always, nearby and ready to assist. "Get me whatever information you can on the Alcotts."
Hero's Journey 2.4
- Location
- Canada
March 19th, 2011
"Colin...Colin!" Colin jolted up, banging his head on the overhead lamp. He yanked off the magnifying goggles he wore and turned to stare at the screen. Dragon's normally calm, but kind, face was puffed up as she tried not to laugh. He didn't think it was funny, and neither did the lump on his head.
"You didn't have to yell..." he grumbled.
"I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes, Colin," she said.
"Oh, uh, sorry. I got caught up in adjusting my suit's actuators, but then I had to adjust the power ratios and- What?" She had stopped laughing now, but she had a bemused smile on her face.
"Nothing, I'm just glad you're enjoying your work again. Despite what's happening."
Ah, yes. The Empire and ABB had gone to war, and the Protectorate was stretched thin just trying to minimize casualties.
"Any word yet on those reinforcements?"
"No one has volunteered. The Chief Director had increased the ENE division's operational budget to help, but-"
"We both know that's a token offering," Colin finished for her. Dragon nodded with a tight-lipped expression. She wouldn't have phrased it as harshly as he did, but Colin knew she had the same opinion. He sighed, going over the numbers in his head. He brought up the relevant files and read for a few minutes, Dragon's face shifting between looking at him and at something off screen. She was, as always, supremely busy. It was a comfort to know she willingly spent what free time she had with him. Even if it was more work.
"It's not nearly enough," he said. "We might be able to field one or two more squads of troopers, but they'd either have to be trained up or transferred, and that would take time we don't have. Is any of it earmarked for the Protectorate?"
"About twenty percent, why?"
"I'd like you to contact your suppliers. I have a list of materials I need."
"Colin, I'd be more than willing to give the materials to you..."
"And we've had this argument before. My project, my funds. Will you help?"
"Always," She said. Her eyes flickered around, glancing at some of the no doubt countless monitors she must have. "Alright, I commandeered what I could in available shipments and redirected it to you." He gave her a look. "And I already ordered replacements out of your budget."
"Thank you Dragon," he said.
"May I ask what it is you have in mind?"
"Something to make me less flammable," he said.
March 17th, 2011
When he finally met Lung, Danny was first struck by the surrealism of the setting. They had met in a Chinese restaurant, a genuine one run by an elderly couple who had fled when the CUI took over. The red and gold decorations were beautiful, he had to admit, and framed Lung rather dramatically.
The gang leader had taken a seat in front of a statue, at a round table. The statue was a surprisingly graphic depiction of an oriental dragon ripping into a large tiger. From out of the tiger's chest it pulled the world, which it held in it's claws.
Point taken.
Tong Jie led him over, smoothing over imaginary creases in his shirt. The man looked about as nervous as he did. Lung was accompanied by a formidable cast. Four men in suits sat in various states of repose. The oldest was of an age with Danny himself, he wore a suit without the blazer and held a clipboard clasped between his hands, resting it on his lap. Two of the younger men had differing features, but dressed the same. Plain, black clothes. Simply made and easily replaceable. The last man didn't fit his suit, his hair was limp and greasy looking, and his wild singular eye whipped back and forth. A single woman casually sipped at a glass of wine, long-fingered hands twitching spasmodically. Her dress was long and slit on the sides, but she wore tight-fitting trousers beneath. She looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else, and glanced at Lung with trepidation. Finally, an unremarkable man stood stiff behind Lung's chair, he face barely twitching with his breath. Dead eyes looked at the world from his face. He wasn't in costume, but Danny would bet this was Oni Lee. He adjusted his collar, and coughed to clear his throat.
Point very taken.
"Daniel Herbert," Lung said. Danny almost corrected the man, but held his tongue. "I have questions." The older man glanced at his watch, but the others looked bored.
"Sit," the Cape said. He sat, Tong taking the seat to his right. "I have already ordered for you. You have no allergies."
A nonsensical statement in any other context, but Lung was telling him plainly 'I know you'. Not for the first time, Danny questioned his decision to involve the ABB.
"The Empire searches for your daughter. I search for your daughter. Is there no one you have not begged?" Lung said it casually, but his eyes tore into Danny viciously. He had no doubt that his hands would do the same if Danny didn't give him the answers the Cape wanted. But Danny was not one to lie about his motives.
"What kind of father would I be if I didn't," he said. Tong gulped a breath beside him, and the two plainly dressed men gave each other a grin.
Lung snorted, staring into his eyes. Danny swallowed air, but otherwise held his ground. The Cape gave a bark of laughter, and relaxed.
"A very poor one," he said. "You have made a fine point."
"But you want to know if I talked to the Empire, right? I didn't," Danny said.
"It matters little who contacted whom now. The only thing of importance is that the Empire has attacked me, and I must retaliate."
Danny let out a sigh of relief, then Lung continued. "Of course I would have punished you if you had indeed gone behind my back." And abruptly the tension returned.
"This is not the case, though, and that is good," he said. "I will, however, need to impress the cost on you once more." Tong Jie gave him a quick glance, sweating enough to dampen his shirt. The older man looked up at something behind Danny, and a sweet smell wafted over to him. A man in an apron came over with four large plates balanced on his arms. He set them down in the middle of the table and bowed deeply, holding his position until Lung waved him off. Two other staff came next, placing dishes and cutlery down for them. A bottle of wine was placed on the table, followed by a smaller bottle of sake. Lung gestured to the meal in front of them and spoke.
"Eat now, Daniel Herbert, this is my gift to you. Afterwards we will discuss your debt to me."
Danny shuddered and picked up the chopsticks.
'Not the last meal I was expecting,' he thought.
March 19th, 2011
"All done?" Dragon asked.
"Yeah, I just need to fine-tune the motors to account for the increase in weight," Colin said. He was sitting on a long bench with his armor lying prone atop it. The internal computer was hooked up to his workshop system, the OS open and ready for re-calibration.
"I can do that Colin, you've been here all day," she said. "Go for a walk, get something to eat, and I'll be done by the time you get back."
He mulled her offer over in her head for a moment, but it was his growling stomach that made his decision.
"Thank you Dragon," he said as he gathered his things.
"Why don't you see if any of the others are hungry?" And there she was, mother-henning him again. He knew she meant well, but she was slavishly determined to make his life better, whether he wanted it or not.
"I might at that," he said with a polite smile. "Later, Dragon."
The halls of the Rig were nearly empty at this time of day, with only the troopers on duty and essential personnel still present. He walked down to the barracks, looking for the rest of his team. If he remembered correctly, Robin and Ethan should still be around. Hannah was supervising the Wards tonight, and that aside they still weren't back on the best of terms.
He found Ethan resting on a bench, he'd found a harmonica somewhere and was doing a decent job of playing some jailbird tunes. Cute. He stopped when Colin walked in, giving him his best shit-eating grin.
"You like?"
"You're hilarious," Colin deadpanned. Ethan was satisfied, though, and stood up to give Colin his attention.
"What do you need, boss?"
"Nothing, really," he said. "I was going to get dinner, wondered if you or Robin wanted to come along."
"Dragon put you up to this, didn't she," Ethan said, smirking at him.
"Yes. She brought it up. I thought she made a valid point," he reasoned. Ethan looked blankly at him for a moment before his grin wormed back onto his face in full effect.
"Whi~pped," he sang.
"What?" Colin said. How did a whip come into this? Ethan hung his head in shame.
"You are hopeless," he said. "Alright, For that epic social crime you're paying for my dinner."
"You're broke again."
"I'm broke again," he said, smiling.
They ended up going to a bistro on the boardwalk. It was nice, relaxing even. Colin wondered if Dragon would like it. He would have to take some pictures for her. She may not get out much, but that didn't mean she couldn't see the world. He was almost finished his sandwich when he saw it. Two of the boardwalk's enforcers were dragging a struggling teen along behind them. At first he thought nothing of it, but after a year of reading cues off of a social emulator he had begun to pick up on certain things.
She was terrified, a bit extreme for being brought in on petty thievery. Her protests were loud, but the crowd seemed to almost melt away, ignoring the spectacle. He had a gut feeling.
"Ethan," he said.
"Yeah?"
"Look." The other man did, a frown settling onto his face once he saw what was going on.
"Shit. They're really going overboard here. We should probably report them."
"Wouldn't help," Colin said. He may be socially challenged, but he knew people. You had to in a city like this. He knew that this sort of thing was common, to the point that even the tourists seemed uncaring. He knew that if they reported this to the police, the enforcers would get a warning. No investigation. He also knew that the teen would be hurt by the end of the night if he did nothing. Maybe she'd even turn up missing. 'Not this time'
"Come on." he started to follow them, keeping up with their brisk pace as they dragged the girl into an alley behind one of the strip malls. Ethan kept up, shooting glances at him when he thought Colin wasn't looking.
The enforcers had her on the ground now, one of them had pulled out his baton. He had to stop this.
"That's enough," Colin said as he stepped in behind them. The two men spun, scowling. The girl stayed down, and her teary eyes didn't hold hope. The city had taken its toll on her, it seemed.
"This is none of your business, sir," the taller one said, pulling out his own baton. "Walk away."
The girl closed her eyes. She knew he would leave. Anyone would. Brockton Bay didn't have any heroes.
Wrong. "No," Colin said. He put his arms by his sides, hands loose, and waited. Ethan looked at the situation and then put on a serious expression. He did the same.
"I'm only going to say this one more time. Fuck off, man. You don't want-"
"To be here? You're right, I don't. I don't want to see pricks like you walk like you have a right to be monsters. I don't want to watch as my city turns into more of a shithole than it already is. I dowant you to leave this girl alone and walk away. But we both know you aren't going to do that."
He put up his hands, sliding one foot in front of the other.
"So shut up and fight already." You could have heard a pin drop in that alley, until Ethan let out a shaky laugh. Then the two enforcers charged at them.
The taller man, the leader of the two most likely, went after Colin. The other, confident in their abilities, went running past him to fight Ethan.
That didn't happen, though.
Colin shifted his weight, moving his lead foot out to the side. As the man ran into his leg, Colin put a hand on his back, shoving him to the ground face-first. To his credit, he had brought his arms up in time. But that didn't stop Ethan from getting on his back and pinning him down.
One to go.
The tall one lost his confidence about halfway into his swing. It was a combination of factors really. Like any professional bully, he expected to see fear in the eyes of the person he fought. There was none. He expected that his buddy would pair off on the other guy so he could wail on the interloper. Instead, his comrade face-planted and was sat on. The man he fought didn't flinch when he saw the baton coming towards him, instead he moved into the enforcer's reach, raising his left arm to take the force of the swing away.
In short, the enforcer freaked out and Colin disarmed him easily. He rooted around in the man's pocket, grabbing the handcuffs stored there.
"You know, it's illegal for you to have these," he said as he clamped it on one thick wrist. "You aren't an officer of the peace, you're a security guard. You aren't even allowed to make arrests."
He secured the other half, binding the man's arms behind his back. Gesturing for Ethan to do the same. His fellow hero did so, tossing Colin the key once he was done.
"And this? This stops. Now. I really don't want to see this kind of behavior the next time I'm down here." Colin took both keys in one hand and give them a baseball throw, the keys jingling right into a pile of trash in the corner.
"Fetch."
He turned to the girl, seeing Ethan already helping her up. She looked scared of them, so Colin put on a smile.
"Are you alright?"
"I think so," she said. She rubbed her arms where the men had been grabbing her, shuffling her feet uncomfortably. Colin kept his hands visible, no need worrying her.
"Do you want us to call someone? A cab?"
"I-I can find my own way home. I'm a survivor," she said. Odd choice of words.
"If you're sure..." He really wasn't keen on it, but this was her decision to make.
"I am."
"So," Ethan broke in. "My name is Ethan, this is Colin, and we are delighted to make your acquaintance." She giggled, the sound dipping into the realm of a sob once or twice. But she was smiling at least. 'Thank you, Ethan.'
"I'm Emma," she said, pushing her red hair behind her ears. "Likewise."
After seeing the girl, Emma, off, Colin and Ethan started back to the Rig. They were silent, which was disconcerting where Ethan was involved. Colin didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
"I'm glad," Ethan apparently wanted to say something, though.
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad you did that," he elaborated. "A month ago I'm not sure you would have."
Colin thought about it. Ethan was right, he wouldn't have stepped in. He would have called the police, leaving them to do their job even though he knew they would mishandle it. He'd had a lot of time to think about his actions, lately, especially when they were brought up by Script.
"Don't mention it to the others," he said. Ethan looked at him, surprised, but then nodded.
"Relax, boss man, I'm not going to get you into trouble," he said. "I will, however, compose a grand ballad to celebrate your deeds."
"Wonderful," Colin deadpanned. The rest of the walk back was friendly, but Colin had a thought.
'Where is Script?'
Dragon met him in his lab, running him through all the re-calibrations she had done. They argued over efficiency stats for a while before agreeing that the battery rendered it a moot point. The claims over who was right continued long after, though. Eventually they fell into companionable silence, working on separate projects a thousand miles apart, but still together where it counted. He wished Dragon's presence was enough to quell his uneasy feeling.
"Dragon..."
"Yes, Colin?"
"When was the last time we heard from Script?" Dragon looked at him with a curious expression.
"The last time you said anything to me about it was about four days ago. Have you not heard from her since?"
"No, I haven't," he said. He shook himself out of his funk, Script was probably fine. She had always come and gone as she pleased after all. "I'm probably over thinking things again. Anyway, so that's the Lung countermeasures dealt with. Now how about the Empire capes?"
"So," Lung said, he lounged in a large chair full of cushions. Others might accuse him of being soft or opulent with the rich textiles and paintings that graced the walls of his sanctum. They were welcome to say that to his face, though no one ever did.
He faced a young woman, dressed more casually in this private meeting than she had at the restaurant. Her features were unmistakably Asian, but truthfully Lung had always used that as a gimmick. He did not care what race served as his soldiers and emissaries, he only cared that they proved worthy.
"So?" the woman said. She was nervous, he knew, her heart was beating quickly and her throat swallowed periodically. Lung did not deign to answer, instead waiting for her to stop wasting her breath. "OK. Fine, I'm in."
"Good," he said. Of his immediate rivals, only the Merchants had a tinker. He used the term lightly in her case. Squealer was merely wasted effort. He snorted in amusement. Wordplay could be entertaining on occasion. "Then we will begin. You will require a costume. I do not need armor, but even Oni Lee dons protective gear. You shall too. We will bring you whatever materials you need, speak to Tong Jie about procurement. You shall be paid equal to the time you put in."
"I get super powers and still end up a nine-to-five wage slave?" she said.
"You will be as required." Lung narrowed his eyes to push the point across. "Lastly, you will need a name."
"I have one," she said. Lung raised an eyebrow. This was the first sign of forethought she had seemed to put into anything other than her power itself. "Call me Bakuda."
Lung grinned.
Crystal was tired.
It had started yesterday with a yawn and progressed until it reached an all-consuming ennui. Ever since the meeting with Mr Hebert and Jules she had been itching to do something. She had gone on patrol with Victoria, who seemed oddly subdued. Her cousin usually liked patrolling. Maybe her and Dean were on the outs again... Crystal spent time with Amy at the hospital, making sure the girl didn't work herself to death. She bothered her brother, but that got less entertaining every year.
Then she finally ran out of things to do and had to face reality. Her friend was still gone, her father had sold his soul to find her, her professor had washed his hands of the mess, and Crystal was doing nothing.
It was understandable, she didn't actually know what she could do to help. That thought hadn't comforted her though. It was funny that she cared this much. She had only just met Taylor. She wasn't even connected to her like Armsmaster was. She just felt like there was some sort of connection between them, something she dearly wanted to explore.
"Crystal, honey?" her mom called from downstairs. She almost considered ignoring her and pulling herself deeper into her blankets. 'Real mature, Crystal'
"Yeah?"
"Could you come down, please? We have some team decisions to make."
Crystal sat up. Team decisions were basically when something was too big for Lady Photon to arbitrate herself. She had an idea of what it might be.
She had been right. Once she had gotten downstairs, it was only a minute or two before the other half of the family showed up. The topic was the gang war. The nearly unanimous response was to assist the PRT and Protectorate wherever possible. Amy had abstained by virtue of already being involved. The hospital was playing host to a menagerie of maladies. With the mobile being foisted off to relatives and clinics in order to make room for more critical patients.
Crystal would inform her teachers of a hiatus, assuming a full-time patrol gig.
New Wave would join the fray. They would remind Brockton Bay why they had been capable of taking down Marquis.
'We will find Taylor,' Crystal promised herself. 'and stop this madness before it goes any further.'
When the guard stepped out, Taylor made her move. She would have very little time and much to say. Thankfully, she'd gotten very good at multitasking.
The typewriter was blurring back and forth as she frantically wrote. She spilled words down the page like a broken mug of coffee. She wrote to everyone she could, words mixing on the page but separate in her mind. She had to condense as much as she could here. She knew Coil would kill her if her wanted to, hell he already had in one reality. She paused, and wasn't that a surprise. She knew her power was weird, but she didn't expect any kind of trump aspect. Something to look into when she was out of here. She penned a few more lines.
Almost ready.
"Colin...Colin!" Colin jolted up, banging his head on the overhead lamp. He yanked off the magnifying goggles he wore and turned to stare at the screen. Dragon's normally calm, but kind, face was puffed up as she tried not to laugh. He didn't think it was funny, and neither did the lump on his head.
"You didn't have to yell..." he grumbled.
"I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes, Colin," she said.
"Oh, uh, sorry. I got caught up in adjusting my suit's actuators, but then I had to adjust the power ratios and- What?" She had stopped laughing now, but she had a bemused smile on her face.
"Nothing, I'm just glad you're enjoying your work again. Despite what's happening."
Ah, yes. The Empire and ABB had gone to war, and the Protectorate was stretched thin just trying to minimize casualties.
"Any word yet on those reinforcements?"
"No one has volunteered. The Chief Director had increased the ENE division's operational budget to help, but-"
"We both know that's a token offering," Colin finished for her. Dragon nodded with a tight-lipped expression. She wouldn't have phrased it as harshly as he did, but Colin knew she had the same opinion. He sighed, going over the numbers in his head. He brought up the relevant files and read for a few minutes, Dragon's face shifting between looking at him and at something off screen. She was, as always, supremely busy. It was a comfort to know she willingly spent what free time she had with him. Even if it was more work.
"It's not nearly enough," he said. "We might be able to field one or two more squads of troopers, but they'd either have to be trained up or transferred, and that would take time we don't have. Is any of it earmarked for the Protectorate?"
"About twenty percent, why?"
"I'd like you to contact your suppliers. I have a list of materials I need."
"Colin, I'd be more than willing to give the materials to you..."
"And we've had this argument before. My project, my funds. Will you help?"
"Always," She said. Her eyes flickered around, glancing at some of the no doubt countless monitors she must have. "Alright, I commandeered what I could in available shipments and redirected it to you." He gave her a look. "And I already ordered replacements out of your budget."
"Thank you Dragon," he said.
"May I ask what it is you have in mind?"
"Something to make me less flammable," he said.
March 17th, 2011
When he finally met Lung, Danny was first struck by the surrealism of the setting. They had met in a Chinese restaurant, a genuine one run by an elderly couple who had fled when the CUI took over. The red and gold decorations were beautiful, he had to admit, and framed Lung rather dramatically.
The gang leader had taken a seat in front of a statue, at a round table. The statue was a surprisingly graphic depiction of an oriental dragon ripping into a large tiger. From out of the tiger's chest it pulled the world, which it held in it's claws.
Point taken.
Tong Jie led him over, smoothing over imaginary creases in his shirt. The man looked about as nervous as he did. Lung was accompanied by a formidable cast. Four men in suits sat in various states of repose. The oldest was of an age with Danny himself, he wore a suit without the blazer and held a clipboard clasped between his hands, resting it on his lap. Two of the younger men had differing features, but dressed the same. Plain, black clothes. Simply made and easily replaceable. The last man didn't fit his suit, his hair was limp and greasy looking, and his wild singular eye whipped back and forth. A single woman casually sipped at a glass of wine, long-fingered hands twitching spasmodically. Her dress was long and slit on the sides, but she wore tight-fitting trousers beneath. She looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else, and glanced at Lung with trepidation. Finally, an unremarkable man stood stiff behind Lung's chair, he face barely twitching with his breath. Dead eyes looked at the world from his face. He wasn't in costume, but Danny would bet this was Oni Lee. He adjusted his collar, and coughed to clear his throat.
Point very taken.
"Daniel Herbert," Lung said. Danny almost corrected the man, but held his tongue. "I have questions." The older man glanced at his watch, but the others looked bored.
"Sit," the Cape said. He sat, Tong taking the seat to his right. "I have already ordered for you. You have no allergies."
A nonsensical statement in any other context, but Lung was telling him plainly 'I know you'. Not for the first time, Danny questioned his decision to involve the ABB.
"The Empire searches for your daughter. I search for your daughter. Is there no one you have not begged?" Lung said it casually, but his eyes tore into Danny viciously. He had no doubt that his hands would do the same if Danny didn't give him the answers the Cape wanted. But Danny was not one to lie about his motives.
"What kind of father would I be if I didn't," he said. Tong gulped a breath beside him, and the two plainly dressed men gave each other a grin.
Lung snorted, staring into his eyes. Danny swallowed air, but otherwise held his ground. The Cape gave a bark of laughter, and relaxed.
"A very poor one," he said. "You have made a fine point."
"But you want to know if I talked to the Empire, right? I didn't," Danny said.
"It matters little who contacted whom now. The only thing of importance is that the Empire has attacked me, and I must retaliate."
Danny let out a sigh of relief, then Lung continued. "Of course I would have punished you if you had indeed gone behind my back." And abruptly the tension returned.
"This is not the case, though, and that is good," he said. "I will, however, need to impress the cost on you once more." Tong Jie gave him a quick glance, sweating enough to dampen his shirt. The older man looked up at something behind Danny, and a sweet smell wafted over to him. A man in an apron came over with four large plates balanced on his arms. He set them down in the middle of the table and bowed deeply, holding his position until Lung waved him off. Two other staff came next, placing dishes and cutlery down for them. A bottle of wine was placed on the table, followed by a smaller bottle of sake. Lung gestured to the meal in front of them and spoke.
"Eat now, Daniel Herbert, this is my gift to you. Afterwards we will discuss your debt to me."
Danny shuddered and picked up the chopsticks.
'Not the last meal I was expecting,' he thought.
March 19th, 2011
"All done?" Dragon asked.
"Yeah, I just need to fine-tune the motors to account for the increase in weight," Colin said. He was sitting on a long bench with his armor lying prone atop it. The internal computer was hooked up to his workshop system, the OS open and ready for re-calibration.
"I can do that Colin, you've been here all day," she said. "Go for a walk, get something to eat, and I'll be done by the time you get back."
He mulled her offer over in her head for a moment, but it was his growling stomach that made his decision.
"Thank you Dragon," he said as he gathered his things.
"Why don't you see if any of the others are hungry?" And there she was, mother-henning him again. He knew she meant well, but she was slavishly determined to make his life better, whether he wanted it or not.
"I might at that," he said with a polite smile. "Later, Dragon."
The halls of the Rig were nearly empty at this time of day, with only the troopers on duty and essential personnel still present. He walked down to the barracks, looking for the rest of his team. If he remembered correctly, Robin and Ethan should still be around. Hannah was supervising the Wards tonight, and that aside they still weren't back on the best of terms.
He found Ethan resting on a bench, he'd found a harmonica somewhere and was doing a decent job of playing some jailbird tunes. Cute. He stopped when Colin walked in, giving him his best shit-eating grin.
"You like?"
"You're hilarious," Colin deadpanned. Ethan was satisfied, though, and stood up to give Colin his attention.
"What do you need, boss?"
"Nothing, really," he said. "I was going to get dinner, wondered if you or Robin wanted to come along."
"Dragon put you up to this, didn't she," Ethan said, smirking at him.
"Yes. She brought it up. I thought she made a valid point," he reasoned. Ethan looked blankly at him for a moment before his grin wormed back onto his face in full effect.
"Whi~pped," he sang.
"What?" Colin said. How did a whip come into this? Ethan hung his head in shame.
"You are hopeless," he said. "Alright, For that epic social crime you're paying for my dinner."
"You're broke again."
"I'm broke again," he said, smiling.
They ended up going to a bistro on the boardwalk. It was nice, relaxing even. Colin wondered if Dragon would like it. He would have to take some pictures for her. She may not get out much, but that didn't mean she couldn't see the world. He was almost finished his sandwich when he saw it. Two of the boardwalk's enforcers were dragging a struggling teen along behind them. At first he thought nothing of it, but after a year of reading cues off of a social emulator he had begun to pick up on certain things.
She was terrified, a bit extreme for being brought in on petty thievery. Her protests were loud, but the crowd seemed to almost melt away, ignoring the spectacle. He had a gut feeling.
"Ethan," he said.
"Yeah?"
"Look." The other man did, a frown settling onto his face once he saw what was going on.
"Shit. They're really going overboard here. We should probably report them."
"Wouldn't help," Colin said. He may be socially challenged, but he knew people. You had to in a city like this. He knew that this sort of thing was common, to the point that even the tourists seemed uncaring. He knew that if they reported this to the police, the enforcers would get a warning. No investigation. He also knew that the teen would be hurt by the end of the night if he did nothing. Maybe she'd even turn up missing. 'Not this time'
"Come on." he started to follow them, keeping up with their brisk pace as they dragged the girl into an alley behind one of the strip malls. Ethan kept up, shooting glances at him when he thought Colin wasn't looking.
The enforcers had her on the ground now, one of them had pulled out his baton. He had to stop this.
"That's enough," Colin said as he stepped in behind them. The two men spun, scowling. The girl stayed down, and her teary eyes didn't hold hope. The city had taken its toll on her, it seemed.
"This is none of your business, sir," the taller one said, pulling out his own baton. "Walk away."
The girl closed her eyes. She knew he would leave. Anyone would. Brockton Bay didn't have any heroes.
Wrong. "No," Colin said. He put his arms by his sides, hands loose, and waited. Ethan looked at the situation and then put on a serious expression. He did the same.
"I'm only going to say this one more time. Fuck off, man. You don't want-"
"To be here? You're right, I don't. I don't want to see pricks like you walk like you have a right to be monsters. I don't want to watch as my city turns into more of a shithole than it already is. I dowant you to leave this girl alone and walk away. But we both know you aren't going to do that."
He put up his hands, sliding one foot in front of the other.
"So shut up and fight already." You could have heard a pin drop in that alley, until Ethan let out a shaky laugh. Then the two enforcers charged at them.
The taller man, the leader of the two most likely, went after Colin. The other, confident in their abilities, went running past him to fight Ethan.
That didn't happen, though.
Colin shifted his weight, moving his lead foot out to the side. As the man ran into his leg, Colin put a hand on his back, shoving him to the ground face-first. To his credit, he had brought his arms up in time. But that didn't stop Ethan from getting on his back and pinning him down.
One to go.
The tall one lost his confidence about halfway into his swing. It was a combination of factors really. Like any professional bully, he expected to see fear in the eyes of the person he fought. There was none. He expected that his buddy would pair off on the other guy so he could wail on the interloper. Instead, his comrade face-planted and was sat on. The man he fought didn't flinch when he saw the baton coming towards him, instead he moved into the enforcer's reach, raising his left arm to take the force of the swing away.
In short, the enforcer freaked out and Colin disarmed him easily. He rooted around in the man's pocket, grabbing the handcuffs stored there.
"You know, it's illegal for you to have these," he said as he clamped it on one thick wrist. "You aren't an officer of the peace, you're a security guard. You aren't even allowed to make arrests."
He secured the other half, binding the man's arms behind his back. Gesturing for Ethan to do the same. His fellow hero did so, tossing Colin the key once he was done.
"And this? This stops. Now. I really don't want to see this kind of behavior the next time I'm down here." Colin took both keys in one hand and give them a baseball throw, the keys jingling right into a pile of trash in the corner.
"Fetch."
He turned to the girl, seeing Ethan already helping her up. She looked scared of them, so Colin put on a smile.
"Are you alright?"
"I think so," she said. She rubbed her arms where the men had been grabbing her, shuffling her feet uncomfortably. Colin kept his hands visible, no need worrying her.
"Do you want us to call someone? A cab?"
"I-I can find my own way home. I'm a survivor," she said. Odd choice of words.
"If you're sure..." He really wasn't keen on it, but this was her decision to make.
"I am."
"So," Ethan broke in. "My name is Ethan, this is Colin, and we are delighted to make your acquaintance." She giggled, the sound dipping into the realm of a sob once or twice. But she was smiling at least. 'Thank you, Ethan.'
"I'm Emma," she said, pushing her red hair behind her ears. "Likewise."
After seeing the girl, Emma, off, Colin and Ethan started back to the Rig. They were silent, which was disconcerting where Ethan was involved. Colin didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
"I'm glad," Ethan apparently wanted to say something, though.
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad you did that," he elaborated. "A month ago I'm not sure you would have."
Colin thought about it. Ethan was right, he wouldn't have stepped in. He would have called the police, leaving them to do their job even though he knew they would mishandle it. He'd had a lot of time to think about his actions, lately, especially when they were brought up by Script.
"Don't mention it to the others," he said. Ethan looked at him, surprised, but then nodded.
"Relax, boss man, I'm not going to get you into trouble," he said. "I will, however, compose a grand ballad to celebrate your deeds."
"Wonderful," Colin deadpanned. The rest of the walk back was friendly, but Colin had a thought.
'Where is Script?'
Dragon met him in his lab, running him through all the re-calibrations she had done. They argued over efficiency stats for a while before agreeing that the battery rendered it a moot point. The claims over who was right continued long after, though. Eventually they fell into companionable silence, working on separate projects a thousand miles apart, but still together where it counted. He wished Dragon's presence was enough to quell his uneasy feeling.
"Dragon..."
"Yes, Colin?"
"When was the last time we heard from Script?" Dragon looked at him with a curious expression.
"The last time you said anything to me about it was about four days ago. Have you not heard from her since?"
"No, I haven't," he said. He shook himself out of his funk, Script was probably fine. She had always come and gone as she pleased after all. "I'm probably over thinking things again. Anyway, so that's the Lung countermeasures dealt with. Now how about the Empire capes?"
"So," Lung said, he lounged in a large chair full of cushions. Others might accuse him of being soft or opulent with the rich textiles and paintings that graced the walls of his sanctum. They were welcome to say that to his face, though no one ever did.
He faced a young woman, dressed more casually in this private meeting than she had at the restaurant. Her features were unmistakably Asian, but truthfully Lung had always used that as a gimmick. He did not care what race served as his soldiers and emissaries, he only cared that they proved worthy.
"So?" the woman said. She was nervous, he knew, her heart was beating quickly and her throat swallowed periodically. Lung did not deign to answer, instead waiting for her to stop wasting her breath. "OK. Fine, I'm in."
"Good," he said. Of his immediate rivals, only the Merchants had a tinker. He used the term lightly in her case. Squealer was merely wasted effort. He snorted in amusement. Wordplay could be entertaining on occasion. "Then we will begin. You will require a costume. I do not need armor, but even Oni Lee dons protective gear. You shall too. We will bring you whatever materials you need, speak to Tong Jie about procurement. You shall be paid equal to the time you put in."
"I get super powers and still end up a nine-to-five wage slave?" she said.
"You will be as required." Lung narrowed his eyes to push the point across. "Lastly, you will need a name."
"I have one," she said. Lung raised an eyebrow. This was the first sign of forethought she had seemed to put into anything other than her power itself. "Call me Bakuda."
Lung grinned.
Crystal was tired.
It had started yesterday with a yawn and progressed until it reached an all-consuming ennui. Ever since the meeting with Mr Hebert and Jules she had been itching to do something. She had gone on patrol with Victoria, who seemed oddly subdued. Her cousin usually liked patrolling. Maybe her and Dean were on the outs again... Crystal spent time with Amy at the hospital, making sure the girl didn't work herself to death. She bothered her brother, but that got less entertaining every year.
Then she finally ran out of things to do and had to face reality. Her friend was still gone, her father had sold his soul to find her, her professor had washed his hands of the mess, and Crystal was doing nothing.
It was understandable, she didn't actually know what she could do to help. That thought hadn't comforted her though. It was funny that she cared this much. She had only just met Taylor. She wasn't even connected to her like Armsmaster was. She just felt like there was some sort of connection between them, something she dearly wanted to explore.
"Crystal, honey?" her mom called from downstairs. She almost considered ignoring her and pulling herself deeper into her blankets. 'Real mature, Crystal'
"Yeah?"
"Could you come down, please? We have some team decisions to make."
Crystal sat up. Team decisions were basically when something was too big for Lady Photon to arbitrate herself. She had an idea of what it might be.
She had been right. Once she had gotten downstairs, it was only a minute or two before the other half of the family showed up. The topic was the gang war. The nearly unanimous response was to assist the PRT and Protectorate wherever possible. Amy had abstained by virtue of already being involved. The hospital was playing host to a menagerie of maladies. With the mobile being foisted off to relatives and clinics in order to make room for more critical patients.
Crystal would inform her teachers of a hiatus, assuming a full-time patrol gig.
New Wave would join the fray. They would remind Brockton Bay why they had been capable of taking down Marquis.
'We will find Taylor,' Crystal promised herself. 'and stop this madness before it goes any further.'
When the guard stepped out, Taylor made her move. She would have very little time and much to say. Thankfully, she'd gotten very good at multitasking.
The typewriter was blurring back and forth as she frantically wrote. She spilled words down the page like a broken mug of coffee. She wrote to everyone she could, words mixing on the page but separate in her mind. She had to condense as much as she could here. She knew Coil would kill her if her wanted to, hell he already had in one reality. She paused, and wasn't that a surprise. She knew her power was weird, but she didn't expect any kind of trump aspect. Something to look into when she was out of here. She penned a few more lines.
Almost ready.