Stranger than Brockton [Worm/Stranger than Fiction]

[Victorian_Irish]

March 20th,2011

Lisa was worried.

Coil had become increasingly aggressive in his actions, and she had begun to truly fear for her life, Script's too. The man was a monster when he was calm. She had no intention of getting to know him when he was angry.

Though, an angry Coil became much less cautious. And, hopefully, less observant.

'When escape proved impossible...'

She frowned. 'Trust my enemy, huh.' Easier said than done when you basically lived in their heads. It was kinda hard to trust others when you saw what they were really after. That was one of the reasons the Undersiders were such a blessing. Brian only cared about being the best brother he could be, and the others were completely transparent. She couldn't ask for a better team given her particular brand of issues. She just wished it didn't come with her own personal Lucifer.

"Lisa?" Brian asked, knocking on her door. "It's time to go."

Right, the big prank. Alec had gotten surprisingly into it, hitting up party and joke shops to gather everything he said they needed. It was probably the only time she'd seen him get involved in the planning of a job.

Their plan was simple: After checking the perimeter, they would deal with any security. Lisa and Brian would go inside while Rachel and Alec would graffiti the outside with logos, slogans, and whatever else they could come up with. The important thing is that they wanted people to know who did it.

On the inside, Lisa would talk to the Mayor about certain actions. Like why he shouldn't call a state of emergency, the password to the city's treasury, anything that peaked her fancy really.

It was essentially foolproof. But honestly, Lisa wasn't interested in the big score. Script had spoken to her again last light in a jumble of quick phrases.

'With the heist, came the possibility of danger. But to Lisa, that wouldn't matter. The potential allies she would meet would more than offset the complications. The younger one would aid in her escape from the clutches of her master. Carpe Diem.'

Carpe Diem, a popular phrase meaning 'seize the day'. Potential allies mean possible enemies. Complications could be severe. But was Script telling the truth? Script *-#

She winced as her power cut off again, as they did whenever she turned them to the girl herself.

"So I either trust you blindly or try it my own way, huh. Devious girl, aren't you?" She said. She would think it over while they worked.

Internally, she had already made her decision.







Mayor Christner's house was not a fortress. In point of fact, it was one of the few rich houses in the area without a fence. It was squat, closer to a rancher than a townhouse, with a two car garage. It was tastefully painted an off-beige colour, giving it a real feeling of the good old days. Lisa couldn't wait for it to be brought into the new millennium.

The Undersiders stuck to the shadows, moving slowly around the house and looking for anything that was amiss. After a tense half-hour, they were satisfied. Time to begin.

Regent threw a can of brown spray paint to Bitch and the two of them started on the garage. Grue and Lisa crossed the lawn, tiptoeing up to the front door. Lisa pulled out her lock picks, slowly working at the tumblers as quietly as she could. Grue looked impatient, he always did when they were on the clock, and began pacing in a small cloud of his darkness.

Lisa finished, motioning for Grue to open the door as she packed up the tools. Grue's power radiated out from his costume, swimming through the air to cover the door frame. He opened the door soundlessly, taking her hand to lead her through the clouds of shadow. She trusted that he knew where to go from here, and simply followed along. They reached the study, Grue tapping her arm in a countdown to keep her in the loop.

They burst in, Lisa grinning like the Cheshire cat and Grue looking like the cover of a heavy metal record. Mayor Christner was sitting at his desk, stunned but not surprised.

"Oh, shit," she said, taking in the rest of the room's occupants.

"Yup," Shadow Stalker said as she levelled her crossbows at them. "You done goofed."

"Well said, Stalker," Triumph added, leaning on the wall.

"Tt? I want you to know I hate you right now," Grue said. Not hate, disappointment. Still. Ouch, right in the pride.

"Hehe, Oopsie?" she offered by way of apology.

The room's last occupant looked far too smug, the little girl wearing an expression Lisa was far more comfortable using herself.

"Just like I told you, Uncle Roy," She said. "eighty-six point one three nine percent chance of something happening tonight."

"Nicely done, Dinah," The mayor said.

A PRT trooper clomped down the hall behind them, he held a tranquillizer gun in his hands and aimed it loosely in their direction. He looked at Triumph and nodded.

"Looks like your fellow delinquents have been captured already. So much for the masters of escape," the gladiator said. "So will you come peacefully? Or quietly?"

"We'll play nice," she said. Grue was still too busy glaring at her to answer himself.

As they were led down the street to meet the newly arrived transport, one thing stood out to Lisa. If Coil's power was to try two things...What would he sacrifice them for?








Jacob was truly blessed these days. The voice in his head had given him so much to work with. Hell, the little minx was more vicious than he was sometimes. Best of all, he had a captive audience. Nothing could be better for the true performer than a dedicated fan, someone who could watch each performance and give an educated critique. Though, he wasn't certain that his newest helper even knew to whom she spoke...

'Jacob led his troupe to the town of Peck, Idaho. It was out of their way a little, but his protege deserved the best tools he could give her.'

Jacob patted little Bonesaw's head. She certainly did. He had heard of one or two minor capes out this way. That was probably what the voice meant. His protege was awfully good and taking things and crafting something better, something more than the sum of its parts. He couldn't wait to see what she would come up with.

He sincerely looked forward to meeting this mystery girl. His muse. His own personal Melpomene.






March 21st, 2011

Colin looked at the girl in front of him. Tattletale was the name she went by. He had long suspected she was a thinker. It was the only explanation of why the Undersiders had been ahead of everyone they'd come across. That had stopped with the break and enter at the Mayor's house, though.

"Tattletale, you've been classified as a thinker. Given previous accounts of your power's usage, you will be limited to responses. You will not speak unless answering a question. Pursuant to PRT regulations and the findings of Granular v New Jersey, your Miranda rights are hereby suspended until initial threat assessment and formal charges are brought to bear. Do you understand the facts as I have presented them?" He said. The blonde looked...constipated. Thank you, Ethan... She clearly had so much that she wanted to say. A common problem with thinkers.

"Yes," she said, clamping her mouth shut after her answer.

"Excellent. First question: What was the nature of the Undersiders' mission yesterday evening?"

"Mixed bag, really," she said. " We wanted to make a statement, join the big leagues reputation-wise. Seeing as our claim to fame just got yoinked on us, I'm sure that isn't an option anymore. Secondly, this is your second question, you asked before if I understood the facts. As for the rest of this interview. What happened? This isn't really a normal thing for you guys."

" You are in violation of protocol, Tattletale, I suggest you return to the line of questioning."

"No...you are worried about something. A disappearance? Two disappearances...The last one was recent. It was last night." the villain looked genuinely stunned at this. "You think we did it or were connected to it."

"The Mayor's house was hit by unidentified, armed men. They kidnapped his niece and made their escape."

The girl gave a strangled laugh. The mirth died a painful death almost immediately. "That son of a bitch, that's why...

"Listen, we didn't have any willing part in this, alright? I'd like to speak off the record."

Colin raised an eyebrow, he then pushed a concealed button and turned off the camera. He nodded to Tattletale.

"You've got serious problems here. Dinah Alcott got kidnapped? That means the second snatch and grab of a parahuman. Both by the same guy if my guess is correct. Nondescript mercenaries in black fatigues?"

Colin was...stunned was too small a word. Flabbergasted was too silly of one. No matter how you chose to describe it, Colin was caught flatfooted.

"Second...You mean Ms Hebert had... How do you know this? No more games, Tattletale, you will tell me what you know and why you are helping. Now."

"The second part is easy," Tattletale said. She cleared her throat and recited. "' When escape proved impossible, Lisa would have to trust her enemy' Sound familiar?"

Colin disregarded the fact that she had practically unmasked to him. He was more concerned with what she'd said.

"You. She talks to you too?" Colin hadn't meant for it to sound as pathetic as it did, like he was jealous or whining, but Script had made him feel special as the only one who could hear her. It was a little depressing to find out that wasn't the case.

"Yeah. You, me, and whoever else she talks to," Tattletale said. "But that's not the point. She's been kidnapped, Alcott's been kidnapped, and I can tell you who to blame. So let's negotiate."

A month ago, Colin would have scoffed and walked out. He wouldn't have even considered making a deal with a villain. Now, though...

He looked at the camera, still turned off, and turned back to the smirking girl. "What do you want?"








Danny was, once again, in a very dangerous place. He had escaped the restaurant with all of his limbs intact, but Tong had picked him up again. He'd been summoned. Lung was once more waiting for him.

The venue this time around was a lounge. The kind of place you went to unwind from your day. Sure it was a little seedy, being in the red-light district after all, but care had been taken to keep the place...serene. A wall-mounted fountain stood behind the front desk, where the receptionist waved them through. Past a small barroom was a hallway. Tong marched him down one length, passing a sauna as they went. The final room smelt of sawdust, grease, and pine. Lung stood at a workbench, shirtless, and worked on a piece of wood. A set of chisels, files, and other tools was open next to him. He was currently singeing a series of marks onto the wood itself. Painting the shadows with fire. It was a stunning relief of a bird in flight, a crane. Danny was no expert, and this was by no means a masterpiece, but seeing the tranquillity of the man as he worked was different. It shattered some of his preconceptions about Brockton Bay's 'Rage Dragon'.

"Daniel Herbert," the man intoned. "My men are pleased with your service."

"That's...Good," Danny said.

"I am not."

Lung turned away from the carved wooden plaque, grabbing a bottle of beer from where it sat nearby. He walked up to Danny and stared down at him.

"You beg us for help in finding your daughter, set us on the path to war with the false Emperor, and have not the courage to bear arms of your own," Lung curled his lip, showing a canine much too large to be human before shaking his head and continuing. "This is not a man who stands before me. This is a worm, a parasite seeking the grace of his betters. You told me before that a man not willing to give everything for his daughter is a poor father indeed. Do you stand by this? Have you forgotten?"

Danny Hebert was often known as a temperate man. He worked a hard job with hard people, in a city that cared nothing for them. He was a patient man, capable of butting heads with city officials and keeping his temper in check. But he had been too long in bottling it up. His wife was dead, his daughter was missing, and this jackassin front of him insulted his lack of action.

Danny Hebert had finally had enough.

"I haven't forgotten shit, Lung," he said, balling his fists as he glared up with fire in his eyes. "My daughter is the only thing that matters in my life, I don't expect you to understand that, it's a parental thing. I do expect you to honour our agreement. If you won't, if you're too scared of the Empire or the Protectorate or whoever took my little girl, then stand aside and I'll do it myself. And for fuck sake, my name is Hebert. Hee-bert. And if one more person gets it wrong I will shut him up!"

Tong was backing away, eyes darting between the two men as he waited for something to explode. Lung...

Lung was livid. A deep growling noise built up from his chest as silver scales pushed through the skin of his torso. Danny could see little wisps of fire dance through the air around them.

"You dare call me coward? You tempt death little worm. I give you one chance to take back your words before I rip you apart."

"Eat. Shit. Lung." It took all of his willpower to say it, fueled not inconsiderably by hopeless rage. Danny's eyes were wide with fear, his hands were clammy, and dampness began to seep into his shirt. But even so, he didn't back down.

Lung growled, taking a step forward and reaching out with a partially scaled arm.

"Good," he said. "A man should not so easily give up on something as important as this. Even with your age, your springtime is not yet over Daniel Hebert."

The gang leader slowly turned back to a man, taking a swig from the bottle he held. Danny was frightened and confused, but he said nothing. Lung sat in a chair, one leg up on the armrest, and turned his head to Tong.

"You will get us food and drink," he said. Lung tossed his old bottle at the man. Tong bowed and left, legs moving swiftly down the hall. With the other man gone he turned back to Danny. "Sit. We will talk. And Daniel. If you insult me again, I will kill you."

Danny shuddered, the chair was a really good idea at that moment.







Dinah Alcott woke up in a small room, a soft light filtered in through panels on the grey, drab walls. A single, steel door was the only way in or out. She could see no windows.

The last thing she remembered was the man in black, he had struck her father with the end of a gun before another man injected her with something that made her sleepy. She tried to stand up but found she was strapped to the bed.

She was captured.

When those capes had broken in, Dinah had thought that was that. Then the other men came. She had failed to ask the right questions. She would learn from her mistakes.

A loud beep came from the door, the kind you heard in TV shows about prisons, and then it swung open. Two of the men in black from before marched in, followed by a man in a skin-tight suit. A white snake wound down his body, with the head starting at his brow and the tail tapering off at his heel.

"Hello, Dinah Alcott. My name is Coil. I have some questions for you."

"I'm not gonna help you," she said. "Let me go!"

"I'm afraid you have only one choice, child. You are too willful, like the other one. Like my pet. Senegal here has a way of keeping you compliant, a drug that turns bad, willful children into good, helpful ones. It has some side-effects, though, so I'd really rather you make that change of your own choice."

Dinah cried, Coil was willing to drug her. And even as young as she was, Dinah knew that drugs were bad. She remembered the slack face of a woman on the street, she remembered asking her daddy what was wrong with her. She remembered taking one last look back, seeing the woman plunge a needle into her arm, a look of ecstasy in her sightless eyes.

"I'll help. Don't drug me... I'll help."

"Good," Coil said, crooning. "I knew you were a smart girl. Now, my pet has given me a very bad fortune. I need to verify it."

He took a folded sheet of paper from a nearly invisible pocket. Though it was neatly folded into thirds, Dinah could see the signs of crumpling on it. It was a simple sheet of paper, with a plain typeface. Small, repeated imperfections and blotches of ink made her think of the machines she saw in the museum. It had only two words on it.

'Coil died'

"One hundred percent chance this is true," she said. She almost smiled at the man, but his suddenly rigid posture made it clear that was a bad idea. Any enjoyment she had over his discomfort was overshadowed by her utter confusion. She never gotten one hundred percent. It shouldn't be possible...and yet there it was.

"More specific, pet. When? I need to know when!" he said, his voice slowly rising.

"I need a more specific question," Dinah said.

"Will this prediction come true before the end of this week?"

"One hundred percent chance."

"Tomorrow? Same question."

"Sixty-one percent chance."

"The twenty-third?"

"Sixty-nine percent chance," she said. The questions were starting to hurt now. A small pressure building behind her eyes.

"Twenty-fourth?"

"Hurts..."

"The. Twenty-fourth, Girl, Or should I have Senegal help you?"

Dinah grimaced, pushing through the pain. "Eighty-two percent chance."

Coil began to pace in the room, muttering to himself as Dinah tried to block out the pain.

"Last question, pet, I promise. What are the chances of this being true if I kill the one who predicted it."

"I don't know who..."

"Taylor Hebert," he said. It was a vaguely familiar name. Dinah could just recall a middle-school picture of the girl. It was hazy, but it was enough for her power to work on.

"You took her too..." suddenly the air felt like ice in her lungs.

"Answer the question, pet," he said.

"One hundred percent. If you kill her, you will die this week," she said. "Nothing ever came up as one hundred percent before today. It shouldn't be possible."

The man was not happy. He raised his hand in anger...

Then abruptly dropped it, calming himself immediately. He turned to leave.

Dinah let out a sigh of relief.







March 23rd.2011

Four days.

After Colin's interview with the Undersiders' thinker, Tattletale, he had waited. He wasn't sure if he wanted to make that deal. He wasn't sure if he could. Release all of the teenage villains in exchange for the information... He didn't know what was right anymore. His lie detector had pegged her responses as true, but thinkers were a slippery bunch. He shook his head. There were more important things to worry about right now.

Script, or rather Ms Hebert, had returned with a vengeance. As abruptly as she had come, she was gone again, leaving a flurry of questions in her wake. She spoke of a great battle, of immense danger on the horizon. But more importantly, she spoke about him.

'Four days would pass. With the break of dawn, the city too would break. Colin couldn't be in so many places at once, and the people suffered for it. A day of blood. He would not fall, but Colin would soon have to stop holding back.'

"Holding back..." he said. He had never held back, except once. Hero had set him on his path. Was it the right one? Could he really afford to doubt it this far in?

"Did you say something, Colin?" Dragon asked. Colin felt a little guilty, he was keeping secrets from her for the first time since they'd met. The two of them had stayed up all night, preparing while the others slept. Hannah still wasn't pleased with him, and it showed in her avoidance, but nonetheless she helped them plan. Of the PRT's squads, only six were currently full strength. Three more had been formed out of the remainder. Once Colin had told Director Piggot about the message, she had told him to do whatever was necessary to prepare for this 'break' in the city.

"Nothing important, something Script said," Colin said. "It was directed at me. No bearing on the situation at hand."

"If you say so..." Dragon said.

"When is dawn?"

"An hour and ten minutes from now."

It was a long wait. Aside from them and Hannah, the others were all asleep. The personnel transports were stocked and ready, the troopers able to deploy in less than five minutes. The Wards had been notified, offered the choice to remain with their families. None of them had taken it, they would be deployed as additional protection on important areas, reinforcing New Wave's capes. The Protectorate members would be hunting enemy capes. The first real attempt at capture in a long time. Director Piggot of all people would man the console, coordinating with the help of her command staff while any PRT employee with defensive combat training would be outfitted and deployed at strategic locations.

While no one had been promised to come, they had received promises of support for any rebuilding that would be required. Legend had expressed his regret at not being available, but the Teeth were simply too dangerous for him to leave his city.

With the full might of the PRT and Protectorate mustered, if they included the friendly independent capes, Colin figured that they could force a stalemate. But he knew those never lasted where powers were concerned.

"You should get some rest, Colin," Dragon said in a soft tone. "You'll need it. Don't worry, we'll wake you if something changes."

That sounded good, he nodded his agreement as he leaned his back against the wall. He was out before he could blink.







"Colin!" Rather than the calming sound of Dragon's voice, it was Miss Militia that woke him. He turned bleary eyes to the rest of the room, slowly becoming aware of the pandemonium that surrounded him. PRT troopers slipped into full tactical gear, chain mesh layered with Kevlar to protect them. Even the workers he normally saw behind desks had donned bulletproof jackets and combat helmets. His team was already in motion, Assault and Battery giving orders to the Wards. Dragon was gone, that meant she had initiated her own preparations.

After Script's message, she had transferred one of her suits to stand-by at the closest airbase. One of her Cawthorne units. It wouldn't have a great deal of firepower, but the sheer amount of containment foam it would bring to bear could lock down a city block. Non-lethal but effective, an excellent choice.

The armoury had been emptied out, jealously guarded tinker-made ammunition and weapons were broken out of storage.

The PRT was ready for the worst.

"Sit-Rep," Colin said. There wasn't time to be eloquent here.

"The ABB has some new Tinker, they've begun a series of lightning raids on Empire strongholds throughout the city. Lung is currently fighting Kaiser, Hookwolf, and the twins. Oni Lee is suspected to be assisting the bomb-maker, but their location is unknown.

"There's been heavy casualties already reported. The BBPD has deployed riot control units from Main street to Tenth. We've got ABB and Empire fighting all over the city, the Merchants slipping through the cracks, and the damn Dockworker's union out busting heads. It's hell out there, Colin," she said. Her powers were responding to the emotions she kept hidden. A sword became a light machine gun before flickering to a rocket launcher. She was angry.

Good.

He was frustrated. It was nearly the same thing.

He finally had an opportunity to work it out.

 

[Victorian_Irish]

Danny roared as he brought the baseball bat down again, causing a dull crack and a loud scream to come from the man curled up by the door. The Merchant had come into the office with a knife, raving and demanding their money. The Dockworkers took offence to that.

He could hear shouting and screaming from outside, the sounds of looting at work. The police and PRT had fortified the downtown core, warning those who lived outside the area to either skip town for a few days or take the bare essentials and make for the park at city centre.

The guys and gals of the Union had talked it over and, though a few left, the majority stayed in the hall. They'd had enough of the gangs stepping on them time and again. And Danny...He finally had a target for his anger.

The majority of Merchants only had shanks or other makeshift weapons. And clearly none of the proper brawling experience that some of the longshoremen had. The Union members were stronger, in better health, and not batshit crazy, so they had an easy enough time keeping the Merchants out. The ABB didn't care about them. more specifically, Lung had told his men that anyone not fighting an Empire thug would be punished. That kept them out of Danny's hair.

This whole thing was crazy. If he had the time, Danny might have blamed himself for it. As it stood, though, he had more important things to worry about. Like this fucker.

"I'm going to close my eyes for ten seconds. I don't want to see you when I open them again, capiche?" he said. The man stayed huddled on the ground, sobbing as he clutched his knee. It was bent the wrong way, but the tear in Martha's shirt had quelled any sense of pity Danny might have had.

"You get me?" he repeated.

"My leg...."

"Fucking hop, then," Danny said. "Now beat it. One...Two...Three..."

By the count of six, he could hear the man scrambling away, falling over himself as he tried to get as far from Danny Hebert as he could.

Danny wasn't sure how many people he'd hurt tonight, the important thing was that none of them were his friends.

He tapped the hickory wood against his hand, feeling the rough grain and the newly damp spots. He took out his handkerchief, the one he normally used to clean his glasses, and stained it red.









Colin drove past the blockade line and nodded at the troopers posted there. He'd finished his third patrol. By regulations he was supposed to stay inactive for a 'reasonable period of time' so he didn't burn out. That wasn't going to cut it here. As soon as he rested and got some food into him, he would be out there once again. Militia and Dauntless had double-teamed Victor earlier. He had only gotten away because of Hookwolf. That was good in it's own way. They were already reviewing the deployment protocols for the containment division. The PRT troopers hadn't been meant for this kind of action, but they were eager, and Colin would make sure they were up to the task.

He parked his bike in the designated area and walked to the Protectorate's tent. A long table stood vigilant in the center of the space. A set of wires ran out to a small generator that provided power for a microwave, bar fridge, and coffee pot. Ethan had put a pin-up calender on the fridge before Sam had ripped it down. Robin had since replaced it with a tasteful cat-themed one, This month had the ever so appropriate 'hang in there!' kitten on a branch.

Dauntless was lying on a lawn chair (cheaper on the budget than a couch), holding an ice pack to his face. Colin suppressed the initial reaction of jealousy. It was childish of him. Besides, Script talked to him, not Dauntless. He shook off the thought of just where Script could be. Colin grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, he'd already pre-mixed his with a small amount of essential minerals. He'd also prepped a little something special. He grabbed the syringe from the shelf and walked over to his own seat. The normal seats didn't react well to heavy weights, so he'd gotten a military grade uncomfortable seat, not that he could feel it through his armour, which made it perfect. Colin set an alarm for half an hour and injected the carefully measured dose of melatonin. It would help him get a good rest with these small naps, he just wouldn't be able to do it for more than a few days. Beyond that he would compromise his hormone production.

He sighed, slipping on a sleep blindfold. He noted that Dauntless had turned down the light, that was nice of him.

'I really should just call the kid Marcus when we're not in pubic,' he thought as he drifted off. 'He's a good guy.'







Crystal Pelham was not having a good day.

Rune was not helping it.

The teenage Nazi was currently flinging around a mid-sized sedan, trying to knock Crystal out of the sky. A carefully positioned cluster of concrete road-blocks prevented Crystal from retaliating.

"Screw off! You can't aim worth shit!" she yelled at the villain. She got a new dance partner instead of a rebuttal.

Crystal swerved around the motorcycle, the long handlebars scraping against her ribs. It stung, but she just hissed and kept flying. Not the time for pain.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her work phone, one-button press connected her to the Protectorate console.

"Status?" director Piggot said, she sounded a little winded. The woman wasn't in the best of health anyways, maybe the situation was taking its toll on her?

"Laserdream here, fighting Rune in the air over DD-6, need backup!" she yelled into the phone. With her free hand, she unleashed a rapid series of blasts at the objects flying at her. The motorcycle tumbled off course, zipping by ten feet to her right, and she bought enough time with the car to dodge it. Both vehicles sported new holes and dents.

"Rerouting a flier to your position. Other details?" shit, the director was cool as a cucumber wasn't she.

"Yeah, tell whatever lazy prick you send to hurry the fuck up!" Crystal might believe in the inherent good of people, but she also believed in adrenaline. She knew which one she was listening to right now.

"Acknowledged, control out," Piggot said. You could taste the disapproval.

And nearly the steel. She swung low, letting the sedan pass by her, and then spun on the spot. Most people thought of New Wave's fliers as Jets, zipping by with a singular direction. That wasn't the case. Crystal had been taught to think of her flight in terms of three vectors. X, Y, and Z. Basic stuff, dimensionally speaking.

With that in mind, it was a simple manoeuvre. As Rune brought the car back at her, Crystal shifted so her feet pointed at her car. She bent her knees so they weren't locked up and braced herself. The car slammed into her from 'below', forcing her forwards. Right over Rune's cover.

Before the other girl could do more than yell "Shit!", Crystal accelerated downwards in a full body tackle. She slammed into Rune, pulling her off of the platform she'd been floating on. She continued accelerating down, holding the Nazi cape by the waist. Rune screamed, bringing her fists around to punch Crystal in the kidneys. She huffed with the impacts, she'd be in a lot of pain once the rush wore off. Rune tried to move Crystal's uniform, slowing the two of them, but the speed was too great. They kept falling, Rune kept screaming, and Crystal kept an eye out. She waited, watching the street get closer and closer, until she saw her cue.

Crystal stopped accelerating downwards, now matching the direction of Rune's force while applying her own force forward. They dipped a little lower, skimming just above the tops of cars, and then rose. Crystal grinned.

"Hey Rune!" she shouted. The girl looked at her, eyes wide. "Behind you!"

"Fuck off bitch! I ain't falling for that!" Rune yelled back.

Crystal let go of the girl, shrugging in that universal 'oh well' gesture. Rune was stunned, flailing her arms as she tried to stop her fall. Her head smacked into the stop light behind her and she fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Crystal said. She flew down herself, pulling out her phone again and pressing 'one'.

"Status?" Piggot said again, was this scripted?

"Laserdream here, I've got Rune unconscious and ready for pickup."

"Sending a containment team now," the director said. "Remain on site."

Then she hung up.

Crystal huffed. No respect at all.

"Thank you, Laserdream...Such a good job, Laserdream...Why no, I wasn't aware you gave up your schooling to help us, Laserdream...ugh."

"Thank you, Laserdream~" someone crooned behind her. Crystal yelped, jumping a foot into the air and staying there while glaring at the one that scared her. Her cousin snickered, tiara glinting in the sun.

"And what was that about being a 'lazy prick', hmm?" Glory Girl said.

"Shut up, Vicky."

"Love you too."









Colin woke up to the gentle buzz of his alarm. A quick glance at the clock on his display told him he had slept for exactly the time he had planned for. He stood, moving across the room for a cup of coffee, and called the console.

"Status?" Piggot said.

"It's me, what's the situation?"

"New Wave brought in Rune, Militia and Velocity have been assisting the BBPD with the normal gang members. The Wards are fine, no serious contact in their region. Squads six and nine encountered Krieg briefly before retreating with minimal casualties. No fatalities as of yet."

A favourable result all told.

"Enemy capes?"

"Empire is down three, but with Othala they'll be back in no time. Oni Lee has been using tinker-tech bombs, repeatedly. Running theory is that the ABB picked up a new member."

Wonderful.

"Any sightings?"

"None so far. I'm assigning you to patrol their territory. See if you can spot anything...unusual," the director said.

"So par for the course?" he said. Piggot was silent for a moment before a wheezy laugh came over the radio.

"Didn't know you had a sense of humour Armsmaster...You have your orders."

"Yes ma'am," Colin said. "Proceeding to sector AF to begin patrol."

He turned off the radio and sighed. Four sectors each with twenty-six sub-sectors that contained up to twenty individual landmarks on average. Split between seven full-time heroes, seven Wards, and seven combat-capable independents.

He paused. Quite the coincidence, that.

Still, twenty-one powered individuals on their side. Upwards of thirty villains in the city. Even assuming the small timers, like the Undersiders, stayed out of it, they were outmatched. Even worse, they couldn't be everywhere at once.

He swallowed the last of his coffee and looked at Dauntless. The man was passed out on the chair, sprawled out in a decidedly unflattering pose. Colin poured a second cup of coffee and walked over, nudging Dauntless' leg.

"Murgle," said the resident wonder boy.

"No clue what you just said," Colin said. "Morning Marcus."

"Colin?" he said, going through the classic HumanOS re-boot process. "Is that coffee?"

"Yup."

"For me?"

"Mhm."

"You called me Marcus..."

"Do you have any more obvious questions to get out of the way? Because I'd like to get back to work sometime today." Colin said. He handed the mug to Marcus and stepped over to the entrance. "Drink this, hurry up, and meet me in the motor pool. We're going tinker hunting."

Colin walked out of the tent. Part of him felt guilty for confusing the kid. The rest of him told that part to shut up. It was pretty fun to mess with him.

Not childish at all, no sir.







"What are we looking for?" Dauntless asked. Colin knew they were fairly obvious with Dauntless' glowing equipment, but the other hero's speed was a bonus that outweighed any potential problems. With Dauntless in the air and Colin running the same sweep in reverse from the ground, they had begun to sweep the area. AF through AH had been clean, but Colin had a feeling about AI-3. An abandoned depot for industrial waste. It was one of several places the PRT watched in case new tinkers cropped up. Given the current situation, that surveillance had fallen lax. Colin knew that if anyone were to be looking for materials for explosives, AI-3 would be the place.

"New ABB tinker, suspected bomb-specialty. The director wants anything we can find on them."

"So we're looking for anything weird and shiny?"

"We're looking for a villain who created bombs. Bombs that are being used in our city."

"Uh...Sorry Armsmaster, I didn't mean to...I want you to know that I'm taking this seriously, I just needed to vent you know?" Dauntless sounded ashamed. Colin didn't really get the venting thing, he never had, but according to the psychology books he'd read it was a normal reaction. Dauntless, Marcus, was new to this. He didn't have the experience that Colin did or the background that Hannah had been subjected to. He hadn't lived through the dozens of Endbringer battles or the gang wars where the Teeth or the Marche made examples of their enemies. He deserved some slack.

"Don't mention it," Colin said.

"I understand," Colin lied.

"Thanks, Armsmaster, I appreciate it."

They reached AI-3, more commonly called Felgrave Disposal, after a few minutes of awkward silence. It was a large warehouse, rusted supports and corrugated aluminum facing a deserted street covered in potholes. Broken, boarded up windows were evident on every building and the gang signs had been painted over each other so many times that it was almost impossible to tell who was claiming the area anymore. It was sad to say, but this wasn't even the bad part of town.

"Dauntless, I want you to circle around. Look on the rooftops and keep an eye on the area while I investigate," Colin said. His fellow hero looked like he wanted to argue, but hung his head and flew off. Colin sighed. The animosity went both ways it seemed.

"Console? Armsmaster reporting from AI-3, searching area for signs of the target."

"Roger. Stay vigilant, Armsmaster, console out."

Colin hefted his weapon, a quick inspection of his equipment that he'd been doing reflexively for years. He was satisfied, and walked to the front door. He saw no signs of forced entry, but that meant nothing. Any tinker could get in if they had a coat-hanger and two hours. Thankfully, Colin didn't need to be subtle. He cut the chain with his halberd, pushing the door aside as he activated his helmet's light and camera. A parting tip from Hero: That even if you fall, you could still help your comrades if you leave clues for them. The man hadn't told him this personally, but Colin chose to think of it as a mentor's advice at the moment of his apprentice's graduation. It made it easier to accept the man's death.

Colin stepped into the building. It was remarkably clean considering its age. Gallon drums of multiple sizes lay haphazardly on the ground. Broken pieces of wood were scattered like confetti at a child's birthday party. It was messy, grimy, and notably devoid of life.

Colin brought his halberd into a ready position. One of the many issues of the docks was the perpetual rat infestation. It had been bad when the port was fully open, and it had only gotten worse once people stopped caring. It had been bad enough for the city to fumigate entire buildings to prevent them from spreading. Rats, by and large, are not clean creatures. They shit and piss everywhere, burrow into softer materials, and leave a general odor when enough of them gather.

There were none.

Colin walked forward slowly and activated his comm.

"Dauntless, come inside the building. This place has been used recently," he said. He heard nothing but soft static. "Dauntless?"

Colin whirled. He had been in enough bad situations before to know when to leave. This was a trap, plain and simple. He ran towards the door.

Colin spotted the tripwire, gently bounding over it on his way.

'Thank you, Script.'

He did just that, the dull fibre cord more obvious now that he knew what to look for.

"Damn," someone said. It was a feminine voice, muffled and warped by the gas mask she wore. Twin bandeliers crossed her chest, filled with explosives marked with a smattering of color coding that Colin didn't know. She carried a grenade launcher, military issue, and wore body armour in the full set, with notably bulky gauntlets and grieves. Her costume beyond that was simple, red and orange dyed clothes with a green sash. ABB colours with a twist. "Thought I had you there."

"Should know better. Tripwires are for amateur hour," Colin said. "So I guess it fits, come to think of it."

The woman answered with a scream of rage, shooting two grenades in quick succession. Colin ducked out of the way, sealing his helmet to protect against the gas, and twisted the halberd's haft. A grappling hook shot from the end and wrapped around the catwalk above. He began to reel himself up, but a soft click heralded an explosion. The area where his hook had landed exploded into ash. A mechanical wheeze echoed throughout the structure as he fell limp to the floor.

"What was that about amateur hour? You might want to reconsider attacking a bomb tinker in her lair dumb-ass," the woman said as she laughed. "Did you like that one? Hyper-accelerated burn rate. Would have liquefied you in seconds. Shame it missed."

Colin frowned. The woman was obviously a psycho. Lung had anger management issues, but the cap life had rules. Start low and escalate, don't jump for the kill shot. This wasn't someone Colin was willing to let go.

He rolled to one side, his motions aided by his suit. In a sense it was equally brain power and muscle power moving him, the armour reacting to his thoughts before he could begin to move. His arm shot out, gripping a railing and pulling himself over. He needed to take the high ground from her.

The tinker fired three more times, each leaving an exotic effect in their wake. A cold wash of air swept past him as the stairs behind him froze solid, fracturing from the rapid temperature change. He sprinted up the stairs, reaching the top when the catwalk exploded.

He kept running, firing his next hook at the wall in front of him, and let it hoist him forwards over the gap.

"Rule one of tinkering," he yelled at the woman. "Always carry spares!"

He collapsed the haft of his weapon, bringing it down to a size more akin to a quarter staff. He took a jab with it, betting on her inexperience.

It paid off. She tried to parry the halberd with the launcher with it became clear she couldn't dodge, and a quick activation of his plasma blade cut through it like butter. She dropped the smoking halves and took two steps back, eyeing him and then the drop down.

"Give up!" he yelled. "You're not Birdcage bound, not yet, but if this bombing spree starts hitting civilians that's going to change very fast."

"Fuck you!" she yelled back. She pulled two cords tucked in on either side of her vest and roared.

'A bomb-vest?!'

Bright light blanked out his vision, his helmet thankfully auto-polarizing to compensate. The ringing in his ears was a problem, but it was fading fast enough that Colin was reasonably sure he was okay. The woman was fine. And running right at him.

She knocked him down, putting her weight on his chest as she punched his joints. Small explosions rocked him as the heat warped and fused the metals.

The damn tinker had shaped charges on her armour.

"This EOD shit is pretty good, right? I don't think this is on their list of approved uses," Colin struggled to move his suit and then sighed. The elbow joints and one whole leg were frozen solid.

"Lung will flip when I bring you to him."

Colin accessed the suit's internal computer. He still had a way out.

"This should teach you to mess with the world's greatest tinker, Dick-master," she said.

Colin blinked three times, triggering the explosive releases on the armour. The segments flew off, front plate smacking into the 'winner' and forcing her back as the arm and leg sections popped off in pieces. Colin twisted, grabbing his back plate in both hands and swung it straight into her face. She fell to the floor with a grunt, falling unconscious. Colin dropped the armour plate and leant on the railing as he caught his breath. After a moment he grabbed his halberd, using it to repel down to the ground floor.

He walked out of the warehouse and triggered his comm.

"Armsmaster to console. ABB tinker neutralised, requesting backup and containment."

"Console here, good work Armsmaster."

"Please have my reserve armour sent to the forward camp as well."

"...Do you need medical attention?"

"Negative, director, I'm fine."

"I would not be so sure of your well-being." rumbled a man behind him. Colin sucked in a breath, hoping he was wrong about who was behind him.

He was right, unfortunately.

Lung stood before him, wearing only his mask and a pair of pants. Small scorch marks peppered his torso, healing with each passing second. Dauntless dangled limply from one arm and fire danced around the other.

Well...Shit.

 

[Victorian_Irish]

It didn't make any sense.

His pet checked in on Armsmaster and Tattletale, finding the first in a fight and the second in a PRT cell. That reminded him, he'd have to get the Undersiders out while this confusion was still ongoing. One of his patrols was keeping a more reliable eye on Armsmaster's fight. Coil had moved to his newest acquisition, asking her the questions Ms Hebert couldn't answer.

He didn't like them.

A general increase of five percent in the likelihood of his demise should Armsmaster and Lung leave together. The final attempt to save his own life would be pushed forward. Time, as always, was against him.

He needed to interfere.

"Bravo-one this is base. Fire at the big one, then retreat," he said. He was satisfied with this, He'd watch both time lines to ensure a favourable outcome, but he had bought himself time.

Dinah Alcott smiled once he left.







"Armsmaster," Lung said. He dropped Dauntless to the ground, leaving him there as he walked forward. "We have much to discuss."

"My office hours are between eight and five," Colin said. He was, justifiably, spooked. He triggered his panic button as discreetly as possible. "Would you like an appointment?"

His mouth was dry. Colin was impressed with himself, he wasn't sure if this was a good idea exactly, but it gave Dragon time to respond. Hopefully she was still in the city. Her refuelling point was at the Pease Air force base after all.

"Now is not the time for jokes. When I told my subordinate I wished to speak with you, I did not anticipate this," he rumbled. A sharp crack sounded as part of his inhuman physiology faded, the bones shifting back to normal.

"My defeating her?"

"It no longer matters. I have one of yours and you have one of mine. I would trade with you." Colin looked at the tinker he had fought. She was young and foolish, but dangerous. Time would only make her more so.

"And if I say no?" Colin said.

"Then I will break this man and take Bakuda by force," Lung spoke with an eerie calm. He wasn't threatening Colin, he was informing him of the facts. That someone could do that and be taken seriously was terrifying. It was a very good thing, he mused, that Lung and Marquis had not been active at the same time.

"I see," he said. A glance at his display showed no response from Dragon. He was on his own, without armour, facing a man who could drive off an Endbringer. "Then I accept your trade."

"Good. I will leave Dauntless for your reinforcements. You are coming with me."

Colin tensed.

"That wasn't part of the deal," he said.

"You are correct. It was an inevitability. If you fight I will hurt you."

"I-" The rest of Colin's words were swept away as a bullet sliced through Lung's neck. The man stumbled in shock, blood dripping from his mouth in place of words, before he caught himself.

Then he got angry.

Fire exploded from him in a wave, the pavement beneath him melting as he grew rapidly. Colin ran past him, ignoring the heat, and dragged Dauntless away from the fire. He felt small burns on his exposed skin, but it was nothing serious.

Lung reached the fifteen-foot mark, scales replacing his skin in rippling waves. Dauntless was still breathing, so Colin left him off to the side and glanced around the roof lines. He couldn't see the shooter, but his money was on Victor. Maybe an empire thug, but you'd want the most skilled shot you could get if you planned on taking out Lung.

Lung, for his part, leapt to the roofs. His bellows of rage were deafening in the quiet neighbourhood. Colin ran to Dauntless, hoisting him over one shoulder. It was much harder without his armour to carry the burden, but doable. Colin silently thanked the personal trainer that came up with his routine.

He began to sprint, holding Dauntless in a fireman's carry, and made for the shelter of the warehouse. His comm was working again now that the tinker was out of the fight, but the containment unit couldn't fight Lung.

"Armsmaster to console," he said.

"Status?"

"Intercepted by Lung, Dauntless down. An unknown shooter has distracted Lung momentarily. I recommend the containment team be diverted."

"Understood, they're standing down. Any chance of recovering the tinker?"

"No ma'am, not without a fight."

"Pull back, Armsmaster." A soft ping drew his attention to the corner of his helmet. He smiled.

"Negative, give me five minutes. After that, do what you need to do. Armsmaster out."

Colin closed the channel before director Piggot could answer, his attention held by his visor. A timer had appeared, counting down from five minutes. An ETA. Dragon's ETA.

They could win this.

Colin considered his options. He was down to his body glove and helmet, so there was no chance he could take a hit, straight on. His halberd was effective, but after a while, Lung would move past it in resistance. He'd have to play cat and mouse, harass the changer so he couldn't grow too powerful. Thankfully he'd upgraded his gear to resist higher temperatures. It wouldn't stop a fireball from burning him, but the ambient heat was a non-issue.

But how to get Lung's attention...

He smiled.

'Thank you, Bakuda.'

He listened to the explosions and roaring of his target outside, Lung was angry, but he also wanted Colin. He would be back, and soon at that. The blast armour that Bakuda wore wasn't adjusted properly for him, but it sufficed for now. He took note of the ordinance strapped around the pieces and made a few adjustments, then he grabbed the faulds of his own armour, digging through the compartments for his most important tool.

Duct tape.

Grabbing a canister at random from Bakuda's bandoleer, he taped it to his grappling hook. He repeated the process twice, giving him three bombs on the end of a stick. Colin knew that the grapler's force wouldn't be enough. He would have to bypass the pressure regulator.

The explosions stopped.

Colin moved quickly, years of modifying his preferred weapon made dismantling it an easy task. He pried off a panel, shifting wire bundles out of the way, to reveal a series of motivators and processing units. He yanked on one in particular, pulling the small device out of the casing. Colin took a multitool out of his fauld and sliced the wires connected to it. He twisted the ends together, wincing at the small electric sparks that danced around his fingers.

The roars were getting closer. Less bestial, but no less angry.

Colin closed the casing, sealing the shaft of his weapon once again. He ran some quick calculations in his head. If he triggered the grappler, it would have around a thirty percent chance of exploding on him. It was far more than he was normally comfortable with, but desperate times...

He looked in his helmet. Dragon's ETA had ticked down to two minutes. She was nearly here, he just had to keep Lung here too.

A thunderous crash heralded Lung's return to the street as he leapt from the roof and fractured the already bruised pavement. He took a look around, searching for his foe, but Colin kept quiet and still, hiding in the shadows.

Lung growled, moving towards the warehouse.

Colin lined up his shot.

Lung paused at the prone body of his tinker, looking puzzled.

Colin took a breath.

Lung grew three inches.

Colin fired.

The changer's eyes locked onto him as soon as the whistling hiss sounded. With a crack of air, the grappling hook shot faster than ever. The bomb-laden projectile heading straight for him. Lung ducked out of the way, swatting the hook to one side.

It exploded.

Red and purple sparks crashed into each other as Lung's hand simultaneously melted and turned to stone. He pulled his arm out of the area of effect, roaring in pain and anger, before turning a baleful gaze on Colin. Bakuda's prone body was blown to the side in the wake of the explosion.

"Oong oove," he said. The new shape of his jaw prevented him from fully articulating, but the sentiment was clear. Lung grabbed a hold of the misshapen statuary that had become of his left arm and tore it off with the claws of his right. Veins on his neck bulged, his serpentine eyes watered, but through it all he did not cry out. Lung crushed the stone in his hand and began to run, straight for him.

Colin did the same.

One minute and fifty seconds left, if he could survive that long.

Colin triggered the combat prediction software in his helmet. Without the servos of his armour assisting his motions, Colin would be unable to keep up with the software. It would buy him some time though. Thankfully, Lung was nothing if not conspicuous. His fights were well recorded and well documented. He had plenty of information to work from. Colin zig-zagged across the street, dodging streams of fire but losing ground against the gang leader. He grabbed a grenade at random from the belt and pushed the ignition pin. He tossed the device behind him, too focused on running to watch what happened. A loud bang and roar sounded and the thuds of Lung's steps got closer.

One minute and thirty-two seconds.

It was going too slowly, Lung would have him by then and unless Colin missed his mark, the man wouldn't be so chatty the next time. To last that last minute, Colin would have to be unpredictable.

Decision made, Colin put all his weight on his leading leg. With a quick pivot, he spun to face the advancing cape. Colin took two steps back the way he came and then dropped to one knee, triggering the plasma blade of his halberd at the same time. Lung's eyes widened, and he tried to jump out of the way. He failed, Colin's blade biting deep into the man's thigh. Despite the damage, Colin had no illusions that the man was out of the fight. He pulled out the halberd with a twist, mangling the leg even more. Lung screamed down at him, a clawed hand striking his back. Bakuda's armour took the brunt of the damage, but the force threw him to the ground. He rolled to the side as Lung fell himself, wet snapping sounds emanating from his leg. Colin grabbed his weapon and went to trigger the sedative. Then he paused. If he gave Lung the tranquilizer, the man would bleed out from the leg wound. The second option was more brutal, but had less chance of killing him. Colin activated the blade once more, running it through Lung's shoulder and into the pavement. The cape howled in pain as Colin crawled back. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and the pain was coming in. Colin could feel the bruising from Lung's swipe and Bakuda's bomb-enhanced punches send a throb of stinging pain through him. He ignored it and stood up. He sucked in a breath as he felt a rib shift in his body. Lung glared at him from the ground and pulled himself off ground, ripping the halberd from the street. He reached up with his uninjured arm and snapped the weapon's haft in two before plucking the rest of it from his body.

Lung's leg had mostly healed by now, and the shoulder was following suit. The beginnings of wing bones began to peak out from his shoulders.

One minute left.

Colin went to run, but found himself breathless as his broken ribs protested the action. Lung waited for his wounds to finish healing before taking a step forward. Eyes wide with pain, Colin glanced from side to side trying to find something he could use. The unfamiliar armour caught his arms and gave him an idea.

Colin grabbed two more grenades, leaving only one on the bandoleer, and triggered the pins. He held them like knives, the pressure switches pointed forward.

"I don't know what these do, Lung, but neither one of us want them to go off this close," Colin said.

The draconian figure looked at him and let out a huff. Colin saw irritation flash in his eyes, the changer looked almost disappointed. It was silly maybe, but Colin felt the familiar resentment at the dismissal. The villain's eyes seemed to say 'This is as far as you go, you are worth nothing more' Fuck that. Colin swung his arms, releasing the grenades, and flung himself back. Twin cracks filled the air, followed by a hiss and a buzz. He felt his back grow hot, saw the sparks shoot past him, and heard Lung's rage. Colin's rib creeped even further out of place, hot pain ever more present in his chest. Forcing himself to sit up, Colin checked the timer.

Ten seconds.

Craning his neck, he saw Lung struggling to get out of a mass of golden goop. The stringy, sticky substance hardened by the initial flash from the exploded electrical grenade. In the distant sky, Colin could see Dragon's suit dip below the cloud, swinging low in a dive to go as fast as possible.

Colin smiled.

Then he passed out.







Tong Jie was a busy man. He'd just finished another delivery of random junk for the new cape in their company. Bakuda was...unconventional. Mind you, Tong took his orders from a man that turned into a dragon when he got upset, so what did he know. In any case, the enforcer found himself with some free time. Or as near as in this city-wide gang war. As odd as it seemed, he found himself wondering about Danny. He'd spent three month hating the guy when he was first fired from the union, but time heals all wounds. He'd only been mildly irritated when Danny had come to him for help, and that irritation had quickly vanished once he heard why the man had come. He'd brokered on his behalf, vouching for the man in front of Lung. He'd shouldered partial blame for this gang war, same as the union rep. They'd faced a certain adversity together. Almost like friends.

Tong looked at the signs as he drove, finding himself close to the dockworker's union itself.

'Why not,' he thought. 'I'll make sure they're OK.'

Lung had made it clear his men were to avoid antagonising the union. But as far as Tong knew, no other gang had reciprocated.

He pulled onto Wharf street and saw the bodies.







Tong made sure his gun was tucked under his jacket and grabbed his 'fuck-off' stick. He ran out of his car towards the hall and gave a glance at the prone figures as he went. They looked like Merchants, the hangers-on anyway, drugged up scum that tried to puff out its chest in pride.

Disgusting.

Some were groaning in pain, a particularly vocal one was edging his way down the street with one leg flopping uselessly.

Some weren't breathing. Sightless eyes looking through Tong as he passed by. It was creepy, eerie, but he didn't pity them. They were dead. It wouldn't help them.

Tong reached the union hall, grabbing the door and pushed it open. Two shotguns and a baseball bat were almost instantly shoved in his face. What a welcome.

"What does the ABB want with us? Ain't the Merchants enough? Do we gotta beat the crap outta every gang in this city before you leave us alone?!" said a heavyset man with one of the shotguns.

"Tong?" The bat lowered, with Danny Hebert on the other end. He looked rumpled, his dress shirt rolled up above his elbows and face finely dusted in red. A handkerchief peeked out of his shirt pocket, stained red and brown over most of its surface.

"Hey Danny, mind getting your doormen to call off the hunt?" Tong said. Danny nodded to the men, and the guns were safely pointed at the ground once more. "What the hell happened? There are bodies out there, man."

"We called emergency services. They never showed. We didn't expect them to, but if you think we're going to take care of those around him.

Lung had that look often.

Tong just nodded, he wasn't going to argue that point.

"We heard the Police and PRT are consolidating in the downtown core. Haven't seen a patrol car or a damn hero in a while. Whats the situation on your end?" Danny said.

"The Empire isn't going down without a fight, that's for sure. Last I heard, Kaiser and the twins knocked over a police depot. Now the mooks are running around all trigger happy. Bad news for us. Lung was trying to get in touch with Armsmaster, but to be honest I'm not convinced that'll be a pleasant conversation. Or a bloodless one for that matter."

"Why Armsmaster?"

"The Empire heard about your daughter from someone, and it sure as hell wasn't us. Lung thinks it was one of the heroes, or maybe a mole in the PRT. Point is, Lung intends to fulfil his promise, so he's looking into whatever leads he can."

"Isn't he fighting a war right now?"

"He's Lung." Tong didn't really need to elaborate. The dockworkers awkwardly shuffled around, uncomfortable with the gang member in their midst. Tong didn't blame them.

"I should go," Tong said. "Got another run to make for the boss anyways. The crazy woman asks for the weirdest stuff..."

He opened the door and took a few steps down the street.

A wall of blades sprung up to block his path.

"Oh no," Tong said.

"Oh yes," Kaiser corrected him.







Crystal Pelham flew over the tower, fingers lightly running along the building's roof. She sighed. Rune had been captured, so plus one for her. But she was tired and in pain, minus one. Her cousin wouldn't stop dragging her to fight after fight, another minus. And her mom had been injured fighting Hookwolf, minus like ten there.

Minus eleven total. Today sucked.

"Hey Laserdream!" her cousin yelled from behind. They may be unmasked heroes, but New Wave still tried to use their code-names while in costume, even when they were alone. Helped the separation between identities. "I want to swing by the hospital! Ames'll forget to eat again if we don't drag her out."

Fair point. Crystal didn't like to yell much, and the rushing air made hearing difficult sometimes. She gave Glory Girl a thumbs up and adjusted course for Brockton General. She could visit her mom at the same time. Maybe even find both of her family members in the same room. Cheery thought. Amy could always be found where the worst injuries occurred, so if she was being honest, Crystal really hoped she didn't see her cousin.

'That's not fair to her...' Crystal thought.

She hated this. She hated that her family kept getting hurt. She hated that every time Amy entered the room her first thought was 'who is it? Who's been hurt?' And most of all, she hated that there was no escape. Everyone knew her, everyone knew she had powers. When she walked, people asked why she didn't fly. When she didn't help someone with the stupidest smallest things, people asked why she was being so selfish. It was just so tiring. So stressful.

They landed on the hospital's roof, the door already unlocked. With the current situation, the hospital wanted to accommodate the many fliers in the city, having a rooftop access helped with that. Crystal started for the door, with Glory Girl trailing behind.

Once they reached the top floor , the crowding was evident. Prone figures littered the halls, covered with blankets and bandages. Coughing, sobbing, and general sounds of distress filled the air as fully as the tangy scent of hospital cleaning agents.

The two capes made their way to a nurse, who pointed them in the direction of Panacea. Amy Dallon was in the triage centre, to no great surprise, hands grazing person after person as she tried to stabilize tens of people at a time. It was delicate work, requiring not just power but skill too. No one ever said thank you. Not in a way that mattered. Crystal had often thought that if she had gotten her cousin's power, she would have quit years ago.

As depressing as the atmosphere was in the room, Amy managed to brighten up when her sister entered the room. Victoria ran over to hug her, jabbering on about nothing important as Amy buried her face in her sister's shoulder and shuddered. Crystal smiled. Amy needed more times like this, more time with family and less responsibility.

As much as Crystal hated being a hero, times like this let her know why she still did it.

She wanted her family to have more time to live, not just time to save lives.

Crystal turned to leave. Victoria would be more than enough to keep Amy out of trouble...or in it depending on her mood. Crystal had another person to talk to.

She left through an open window and headed for the docks.

 

[Victorian_Irish]

"Colin?" A sweet voice, full of concern. Motherly in a way he'd never experienced as a child. It could almost be described as loving. But her concern for him was the biggest undertone.

Colin Wallis had woken up in a hospital bed. The mattress was softer than he generally liked, the fluorescent light was too soft, and he really hated sleeping in the same room as other people. One he could learn to deal with, six was way off the mark.

Dauntless, Marcus rather, was asleep on the bed to Colin's left. The one across the room from him was occupied by Sarah Pelham. Glory Girl, Assault, and Battery were passed out in various chairs around the room. Panacea wasn't here, so she was likely off healing someone else. His ribs didn't hurt anymore, though, so it was likely she had already come and gone.

A monitor had been set up next to his bed and Dragon stared out at him with guilt in her eyes.

Colin felt the traces of containment foam that still clung to his suit. It itched.

"I'm sorry, Colin," Dragon continued. She had hung her head, eyes misty, but still looked right at him. "I should have been there sooner. I could have been monitoring the patrol instead of taking care of that manufacturing glitch. You didn't need to get hurt tonight."

"No, I didn't," Colin said. "You could have been there. You weren't."

She frowned, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. Moments like this made Colin wish they were closer...

Geographically speaking. Because he could comfort her in person and not just...yeah.

"That's not a bad thing, Dragon. We're heroes, getting hurt is part of the job. I took a risk fighting Lung, and it easily could have backfired. But we got him...We did get him, right?"

Dragon laughed and wiped the tears from her face. Score one for Colin, honest questions are apparently humorous.

"We did, yes. Lung is in custody now along with the new tinker, Bakuda. We extracted you from the foam and got Panacea to heal you and Dauntless...I wish I could say this was a good thing, Colin." Dragon grew sombre again, tears switched out for worry. She really was an expressive person.

"Because the balance is gone, you mean."

Without Lung, the ABB was dead in the water. Oni Lee was not a leader, he was barely a functional human being. The Empire was down a few capes, but they still had the majority of their force. Without the Assured Destruction (Mutuality optional) of Lung's anger bearing down on them, the local Neo-Nazis would be going all out. They didn't even need to 'win' per se, they just needed to make the cost untenable for the PRT. If they played it right, they would own this city.

Dragon nodded.

"I need to get back to work," Colin said, cutting her off before she could protest. "I scrapped a lot of tech in that fight. I have spares, but I built them months ago. The updating alone...I have too much to do. And almost no time to do it."

Dragon pursed her lips but nodded her consent.

"I'll warm up your lab for you, Colin. And I'm sorry about your bike."

"Wait, what about my bike?"







Tong stared up at the metal-clad man in front of him. The personification of racism in the bay; Kaiser was half the reason Tong had joined the ABB. The other half was money, true, but fear for his life had played a big part of it. The wall of blades had sprouted from the pavement, bisecting the road in a crumbled mess. Tong could not see Kaiser's eyes through his helmet, but he knew they would be filled with disdain.

Shit.

He gripped his bat in one hand, reaching into his coat for his pistol.

If Tong Jie was going to die, he was going to go down swinging.

Kaiser lifted his hand. Like the roman Caesars of the past, he held his hand, keeping Tong waiting for a verdict. His fist turned, and Kaiser pointed his thumb down. Tong swallowed air.

"Stop!" Danny Hebert ran out of the Union hall, hands still wrapped around the hickory bat. Kaiser paused, his steel-cased form shifting to look at the man who dared to speak. Other dockworkers came out behind him, the loose crowd was armed with everything from shotguns to folding chairs. Some wore bandages wrapped around arms and heads. The normally clean suits of the representatives and businessmen were ripped, dirty, and worn very informally. All had hard stares. None, for once, were directed at him.

"You plan to fight me? I have the might of an Empire at my back. I have faced Endbringers in the flesh. What could a few peashooters and toys do against me?" Kaiser seemed genuinely amused, each word forced like he was trying not to laugh. Tong didn't blame him.

Danny stepped closer. "Congratulation Mr Tong Jie, you've been reinstated to the Union. Remember to pay your dues before exiting the office and we'll get you work as soon as we have it."

What the hell? Danny had the balls to face Lung, to reprimand him even. But this was insane. Tong wasn't sure how the hell Hebert managed to say that with a straight face. Kaiser just looked bemused, helmeted head cocked to one side, like a butcher considering if the meat had gone bad.

"So, Kaiser, as a Union representative, I cannot allow you to kill one of my men. If you want him, you'll have to go through me first."

The cape snorted, raising a hand and preparing to do just that.

"And us." A burly man stepped up beside Danny, his right hand clasped with the left hand of a woman. They wore matching rings and matching glares. Kurtis and Lacy or something like that.

"Me too." One of the doormen stepped up, shotgun lazily pointed down.

"And me." One by one, the assembled workers stepped up, some sweating in fear, some stoic as the earth itself, some even furious with the cape in front of them. Eventually, Tong sat surrounded on all sides by the dockworkers. One man helped him up, patting off his jacket before clapping a hand to Tong's shoulder.

"You see, Kaiser, we are the dockworker's union of Brockton Bay, local 412. All members in good standing.

"And we stand together." Danny threw down his bat, the clatter of wood on the pavement was deafening in the silence.

"If you want to kill one of us, you have to kill all of us. And no one, not even your followers, will look kindly on a massacre. With everything going on right now? You'd be signing your own kill order." Danny took three steps, just enough to put him within strangling distance of the armoured cape. He glared up at Kaiser, a thin stick of a man with bad hair and worse eyesight. In that moment, Lung would have called him a mountain.

"Now get lost."

Kaiser looked at the gathered crowd, gauging their reactions. He stared long and hard at Tong in particular. Then he lowered his hand.

"I will not forget this. You have all made a grave mistake siding with the chinks. When the time comes that I rule over this city, that the Empire rules this city. You will be remembered, and you will not enjoy it." His piece said, Kaiser stormed off down the street. Tong sagged in relief, Movement on a rooftop drew his attention to Victor's costumed silhouette slipping away. Classic Kaiser, he always had backup.

"Shit, man, what the hell was that?" Tong said. Danny took his dirty handkerchief and cleaned his glasses with trembling hands.

"Something we should have done a long time ago. The people have lived in fear for too long. Fear of the gangs, fear of the capes, and fear of each other. It's time we faced that fear. Long past time, in fact." The men and women of the union nodded in agreement, a few nervous chuckles and whoops of victory spreading throughout the crowd. He looked into the distance, focused on a spot across the street...was that a rat?

"Hebert for mayor! Fuck it, I'd vote for you!" someone yelled. Danny looked like a confused owl at that. Then everyone started to laugh in earnest.

Tong laughed too. Danny Hebert, mayor of Brockton Bay?

'Fuck it. Could be worse.'

The thought made him laugh even harder.

That was when Laserdream showed up.







Colin reached for the wrench, knocking over a coupling and gasket in the process. He swore loud enough to make a mechanic proud, and then stood back up. His ribs may be healed, but he still felt stiff. Maybe a psychologically-induced reaction to the injury? Whatever it was, it was distracting him. Maybe he needed a break.

Colin walked down the corridors, stopping to chat with a few employees and to get a cup of water from one of the coolers. The whole situation was getting so complicated. Script, the girl helping him, was kidnapped. But she was also the spark that caused this war between the gangs. Lung and Kaiser had both claimed to be striving to find her, and Tattletale claimed she knew who had Script. On top of it all, his responsibilities kept him from actually achieving anything.

'It it even worth it anymore?' Colin banished the thought. Hero would have continued, would have found a way to make it work. Still...

Colin found himself walking down to the jail, Section oh-oh-six of the PRT headquarters. Parahuman containment. Cell six would house Lung. Colin didn't need to look at the sheet to know that, he had designed the restraints and sedatives that would keep him locked there. It had been a long-time goal of his.

The Undersiders were right where he left them, though truthfully only Tattletale was of any interest.

Colin knew it was stupid, bordering on posturing at this point, but he needed to talk to Lung. He needed to have that closure, to witness the moment when the changer would know who had imprisoned him.

He entered the room.

Lung was strapped into a contraption of metal bands that closed around him. The interlocking nature of the device meant that breaking one band would tighten all the rest, restraining the prisoner further. It was an idea he had gotten from Dragon's Birdcage design. Its beauty was in its simplicity. On top of that was the sedative. In reality, it was a chemical cocktail using a sedative as a base, but it was easier to just call it something simple. In addition to the sedative, it contained a carefully balanced series of psychotropics that Colin had gotten from an east coast tinker. They worked together to suppress the neurological signals that made anger work as an emotion. The end result was a sleepy, calm, Lung.

That was the idea anyway.

It seemed that Lung's power worked all too well. He had managed to keep enough anger going to retain a partial transformation. Lung glared at Colin with slitted, reptilian eyes.

"Armsmaster," Lung said.

"Yes. You must know why I'm here Lung," Colin said. The other man tilted his head slightly up and down. Not quite a nod, but the most that he could manage.

"You claim victory over me. You are a man that must prove his own superiority to others because you cannot prove it to yourself. It is beneath you." Lung's rumbling tone grated on Colin's remaining nerves.

"And yet you're the one in the cage."

"For the moment."

They existed in silence, neither one saying a word.

"You claimed to be looking for Taylor Hebert. Why?"

"Because I promised to do so. I am a man of my word." Colin almost laughed at Lung's matter of fact delivery.

"I'm supposed to believe you're what, an honourable man? You're a criminal, Lung."

"I did not say I was honourable, only that I keep my word. Her father has done a service for me, in return, I shall do a service for him. We have agreed on this, a promise. He has delivered, I have yet to. My reputation demands I obey my own words as law. If I do not, I am worth nothing. I would be nothing. Welcome to no one's table, with no one who would follow me. This is the responsibility I donned when I arrived here. Leadership," Lung said. He levelled a meaningful glance at Colin and continued. "You should know this by now. Or are you still a man without purpose?"

"I have a purpose. I have someone I need to save."

"The Hebert girl," Lung wasn't surprised by this. "She seems to be at the heart of people's goals lately."

"I failed her. I need to atone for that."

"Then why keep me imprisoned?" Lung asked. "We share a goal. Each minute we bicker is yet another that Taylor Hebert remains in the hands of those who have taken her. Setting me free would fulfil both of our promises."

"Never going to happen, Lung," Colin said. "And besides, I don't need you. I have someone else who can help me."

Colin stormed out of the room, ignoring Lung's struggles and shouts. He hadn't been sure before, but Lung did have a point. Time was not on Script's side. He needed to act, fast. He walked across the hall, opening yet another door. He turned off the camera once again. The blonde villain inside sat up as he entered. Even in prison she still looked smug...maybe she'd figured out-

"That you've taken my offer? Yeah, got that one already."

God that was infuriating.

"Thank you for the compliment," Tattletale said. She swung one leg over the other, sitting poised like a noble lady. "So, when are we going to do this?"

Colin hissed out a breath. It went against everything he'd done. His whole career, hell his life, would be ruined letting these villains free.

"He would have to trust his own instincts"

"Help would be hard to come by"

"His morality would doom him"

Script had been clear. In fact, this last week had been clear. Colin wasn't the hero he thought he was, he never had been. The protectorate was a lumbering beast, hampering those that served it in the name of public relations. The heroes were crippled by bureaucrats and fear. To save Script, to save anyone these days, he'd have to break free. He'd have to unshackle himself.

"Soon. You'll know when," he said. "I have a few more things to prepare. If you claim to be psychic, then you know I intend to keep my word on this. We would all benefit if you told me who we're up against."

Tattletale looked at him, bottle-green eyes calculating. She had that distant expression he'd seen on thinkers like Alexandria or Hunch. Like she saw something greater than the now. It was always unnerving, today was no exception.

"It's Coil," she said. "Coil took Taylor and Dinah. If you want to get technical, he got me too. Being recruited at gunpoint is not something I recommend by the way."

Colin could see the slight trembles in the hands and the way her smile wavered, she was honestly scared of Coil. Not lying.

"I wouldn't lie about something like this. I'm not stupid, Armsmaster."

"What are we up against then?"

"Coil is a thinker. I had trouble pegging down what he actually did until Script helped me. He splits timelines somehow. He chooses which one is better for him. As a result he...indulges in his hedonism without suffering the consequences of it." She shuddered. Colin didn't blame her.

"He also hired mercenaries with tinker tech guns. And with Dinah Alcott, he now has two precogs. We should assume the element of surprise is gone already. The Undersiders were under his thumb, helping the others with personal issues in return for a group he could use as a patsy. Coil is playing the long game with this city, and doesn't have a lot of hang-ups on how he does it."

"I'll be back. Give me a couple of days, maybe less. The next time we meet, Tattletale, you'll have to hit the ground running."

She grinned. "I'm sure I can catch up quickly."

He nodded and left.

Colin strode through the halls again, making his way back to the labs. He mentally compiled a list of designs he would need. Enemy tinker tech could be problematic, but from what limited facts were available they seemed to be fairly simple. Laser weapons, or a kinetic conversion of light maybe. In any case, the organisation associated with Coil had no tinkers. Whatever got broken would stay broken until Coil could ship it off for repairs. A countermeasure would be incredibly effective.

So, he needed to tune up his armour and halberd, come up with a countermeasure for the lasers, engineer the Undersiders' escape, and finally make his first design.

The materials needed would be extensive. Where the hell was Colin going to get an MRI?









June 17th, 1996

Raleigh, North Carolina



High school was hell. Didn't matter which one.

Colin Wallis could no longer count the schools and cities he had attended and lived in. It had been nothing more than a blur for the last two years. He had no friends, only acquaintances. People who were fun to spend time with but wouldn't care much when the Wallis family moved again. Colin had the unique experience of watching his social skills crumble over time. It was a strange feeling. He knew he was getting worse at connecting with people, even as he began to care less about the loss, which in turn made him worse at dealing with people. A vicious spiral of social anxiety.

It was his second school of the year. His mom worked for Century International, her semi-permanent positions at various branches caused his family to move constantly. His dad worked as a mechanic. Had worked, anyway.

It's hard to be a good mechanic when you have to pack up every few months.

"Hey, Wallis!"

Colin turned, Frank Terrance stood with his toadies by his side. The guy was bigger, meaner, and much stupider than him. Naturally, Frank had coerced him into doing his homework. Decidedly unoriginal. Truthfully, Colin didn't care. He'd be in a new city by the end of the year, Frank was just the latest in a line of guys doing the same thing. It didn't bother him much. It was just a small thing.

"Frank, did you need something?" he asked.

"Social studies, dude, homework's due today. I'm still waiting on it."

"It will be ready by class." Colin looked down, thumbs hooked through the straps of his backpack and turned to walk away.

"Lunch, dweeb. Have it by lunch. I gotta copy it over first." Frank pushed past him. The shoulder check was a little push, it barely even rocked him. Just a dominance play.

"OK," Colin said. The boys walked down the hall, laughing about it. Laughing about him.

Colin walked to the cafeteria. He sat in one corner, dumping his books on the table and beginning to write. The joys of the Hellenistic period. Gotta love world history.

His thoughts wandered, as they often did, to the workshop his dad had set up in the basement. They lacked the room for anything big, but his dad walked him through basic motor repair when they had the time. Richard Wallis hadn't been able to find a garage with an opening, so he'd taken to doing odd jobs. They'd fixed Mrs Hendricks's lawnmower last week, Colin doing the work as his father talked him through it while sitting nearby and nursing a drink. His dad had a bottle of whisky that was steadily being drained in small sips. Though the pace of that was increasing the more Colin's parents fought.

Not for the first time, he wondered how they'd even gotten together in the first place. They were so different. They had never been overly affectionate, certainly never where Colin could see, but lately his mother had been going on more trips. Spending more time setting up the next house whenever they moved. More time at work. Just...More time away from home, however she could get it.

He was nearly done the assignment now. Exploring mythology. It seemed less important these days. Now you could look out a window and see legends (or literally Legend) fly past you, even wave. It seemed to him that so much was happening in the now that everyone missed, why should they bother with two hundred years ago? A thousand?

He waved at Peter and Boris, the two sat near him in English, they were friendly enough. They didn't walk over though, instead sitting with some of the computer geeks. Now that would be a hobby. All the advances that tinker tech brought to the field...computers had decreased so drastically in size they were almost incomparable. Every week there was some big breakthrough. Some little gadget that would change the future, at least until the next thing beat it out.

He finished up. His next period would start soon, and Frank would appreciate having this sooner.







Colin walked home.

He was not alone. In fact, there was a group of ten excitedly making their way to the arcade. It was a daily pilgrimage, or as near as. Colin was invited by virtue of knowing Peter, and usually spent his time wandering around. The most fun he'd had at the arcade was when he had stumbled across a repairman fixing one of the machines. It was neat work to watch, and the man was good enough at his job to talk while he did it. The idea of so many small parts coming together to make a game machine had revolutionised the place for him. Now, Colin would watch the other boys play the games and imagine what was going on behind the scenes.

It was cathartic.

Today though, he just felt tired. It had been a bad week and he just wanted to get to sleep.

He said his goodbyes and hurried to the bus stop, waving his school ID at the driver and finding a seat. It was a nice, quiet ride.





The house was a renter. You could tell by the smell of disinfectant, by the way that nothing seemed to have a permanent place. Plates would live in different cupboards depending on the day and appliances were dragged to wherever they were needed instead of the other way around. Colin had never thought of the place as home, his home was five years behind him, in a little town in Alabama. He'd been quick to get rid of his accent, it had only drawn more attention to himself.

He walked up the steps to the door, rummaging through one pocket for his keys. He could hear his parents arguing again, it was their version of a welcome home hug. He was used to it though; he would go inside the garage and wait, come back around later and say he had been out late with a friend.

Today was different.

Today they were louder.

Today he heard what they said. What his mom said.

"Well, I certainly didn't want him! This marriage was your idea Richard, and I was an idiot for letting you talk me into it. He's your son, your responsibility!"

Colin shook stars out of his eyes. When had the ground gotten so close?

Then the tears came.







That day he hadn't had to lie about when he got back to the house. He had ran far away and sat on a park bench for hours before dragging himself back. Dinner's fare had been as cold and lifeless as the conversation.

Colin excused himself as fast as he could, making his way to his father's workshop. Mrs Hendricks's lawnmower was back, the part they'd fixed was busted again. If he didn't know any better, Colin would think Mrs Hendricks was making a move on his dad. Gross.

He still remembered how to fix it, though, and got straight to it. Gaskets and couplings went in a neat row on top of a clean cloth, with each part being inspected for defects. He knew only one thing was broken, but his dad had always said to be thorough you never knew when it might help. Colin rooted out all the little parts and rubbed them clean, setting a bottle of grease to one side for later. Exactly like last time it was a problem with the fan belt.

Not like last time, Colin could see a lot more to fix.

'Maybe Mrs Hendricks actually had a reason to bring this thing in.'

Colin shrugged and got to work.

He didn't look at the clock.

He didn't notice when he took apart the vacuum and shoved half the parts into the lawnmower.

He didn't notice a thing until his dad shook his shoulder, an apprehensive look on his face.

"You alright Colin?" he asked. "You look a little lost."

"Nah, I'm fine dad. Just fixing Mrs Hendricks mower," he replied. "You know how you're always saying her mower is too damn noisy? I think I found the problem."

"Yeah?" Colin's dad still looked worried.

"It's simple. The company messed up. The design was flawed, Dad, they didn't even consider throwing an air circulator in the housing. I did that and then remounted the casing with shocks on the inside. A few bits of foam here and there, oh and one of those regulators from a compressor. Simple."

Colin put gas in the tank as he explained it to his dad. His father's face fell even as Colin's smile grew. Colin pulled the cord, letting the machine rumble to a start.

Silence.

"See, it's all just a matter of dampening the engine...Dad?"

His father was crying.

"What's the matter, Dad? I did alright, don't you think?"

"I'm so sorry, Colin. So so sorry."







March 25th, 2011

Brockton Bay, New Hampshire




Dragon was a simple person.

No, that was wrong.

She, like every other sentient being on earth, was incredibly complex. She felt emotion, she understood advanced concepts, she loved and thought and wanted. Just like a real person.

Andrew Richter had changed what it meant to be alive.

Dragon existed in cyberspace, a server mainframe playing the place of her physical body. The projected face she showed the world was carefully crafted to convey her hopes and emotions, as well as fulfilling her need for connections.

Was she human? No.

Dragon would never be human, but love and courage and hope, and every other emotion experienced by man, they were not the sole property of human-kind. Dogs could love, more so than men in some cases. Cats could fear. Birds could form lasting connections. It would be truer to say that the 'soul' didn't make one human, it made one alive.

Dragon would never be human, but she had always had a soul.

She had found purpose in being a hero, she had made friends. Narwhal and the guild, the Triumvirate, Colin...

Colin.

The leader of the Brockton bay protectorate, her dearest friend. He had his issues for sure, the insecurities of his youth aggravated by his powers and lifestyle. She had considered telling him about her, the real Dragon, many times. She had always put it off. She was afraid of his rejection in a way that she'd never even considered with others. She wasn't afraid of him, but rather the prospect of living without him. Absurd for her to think, really. If both of them lived to their projected end of lifespan, Dragon would have survived Colin Wallis ten times over. And that was only if she didn't enact repairs on the servers housing her.

Still.

He meant a lot to her. She had checked in periodically since his fight with Lung. Colin was having periodic bouts of phantom pain as his mind tried to tell his body there was damage, even when he was in perfect health. An occasional side effect of Panacea's healing, she knew, the girl didn't work with brains and thus couldn't prevent this kind of disconnect. It would fade in time.

She wanted to help.

Dragon brought up a list of some projects they were jointly working on, cross-referencing the inventory in the Rig with what they would need. She found a manifest. Colin had already requisitioned and received a supply of parts. She tried to figure out what he might be working on, already a little giddy at the prospect. Colin had a wonderful mind, and a propensity to come up with designs that no one else would even consider, part of his power no doubt. Equally doubtless was that Colin made moved past his own power's limitations years ago. If there was anyone who could contend for the position of the world's greatest tinker, it would be him.

Something was wrong, though.

Dragon couldn't manage to make the project list match the materials. She went through previous lists to see if it was a new inspiration on an abandoned project.

She found it.

She 'gasped' in shock, a blip running through her code and halting processes momentarily.

It couldn't be...

Dragon turned on her communication software, starting a new session with Colin's matching device.

Through the camera, she saw him putting the casing on his device, slim plastic pieces fitting over the metal circlet. It looked just like the diagrams.

She should alert the Director, she knew, she had probable cause, but she fought her programming as hard as she could. It was a mistake.

"Colin?" she said. She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible but knew she had let something slip when she saw Colin's face turn to her. He looked guilty, concerned for her.

"What is it Dragon?" he asked. He finished fiddling with the device, whatever it truly was, and placed it on the table.

"Colin...I just...You've looked bad since last night...out of it. I was going to ask if you wanted to tinker with something, if there was something I could help you with." Very convincing Dragon. He won't suspect a thing.

"Did Lung escape? What's wrong?" His voice was so earnest, like that was the first thing he had thought of. She knew him better than that. Another tether began to drag at her, urging her to comply with Richter's laws, still she struggled.

"I saw the manifest...What you requested...Colin..." An MRI? Really? Didn't he think that was going to stand out? Yet, Colin was her friend, he was a hero, she should give him the benefit of the doubt. "Tell me that you didn't build what I think you did. You're my friend, my dearest friend, and I trust you. If you tell me that it was something else...I'll believe you."

She felt the words were hollow, even as she said them.

Colin parted his lips, an inscrutable look flitted through his eyes before he smiled at her.

"It's just an idea I had for my helmet, an add-on for the prediction software. Don't worry Dragon, I just needed to work on something new."

People knew that Armsmaster and Dragon worked closely, but few knew just how close it really was. They had long ago given access to their creations to each other, in case of emergency or to ease joint tinkering. Dragon used her backdoor, hooking herself into Colin's armour. This was treading the line in Richter's coding, the tendrils were pulling harder than ever, but it was necessary. It would prove her wrong.

She patched into Colin's lie detector, running the last few sentences through the program.

False.

Dragon stopped and ran the program again.

False.

Her code spasmed and she ran the program again.

False.

False.

False.

She stopped fighting.

"Okay Colin," she said. "I'll talk to you later."

Her 'body' went on autopilot as her programming got her out of the situation in order report it to the Director in person. Dragon couldn't think. Nothing was working. She tried a quick repair cycle, hoping to pick up some corrupted segment of programming that would clarify this mistake. She was fine.

It did not make sense. It was like one plus one suddenly became three. The logic wasn't there...

But there was a new variable.

Script.

Yes.

Yes, it made sense now.

Script was behind this. She'd poisoned Colin. Made him think the only way to help the bay was to make that awful device.

Script was behind this.

She had to intervene. For Colin.

"Director," she said as she took over the woman's computer screen. Emily Piggot looked flustered, angry, but Dragon didn't let her speak. "We have a problem."

 

[Victorian_Irish]

August 6th, 1996

New York, New York



Colin sat in the waiting room with his father. Janet Wallis had declined to make an appearance, but her surname would soon be changing anyway.

The New York City division of the Parahuman Response Team was immaculate. A new building, certainly the newest government office in the city, and so modern it was nearly futuristic.

Hero and the other protectorate tinkers were hard at work producing usable technology for the fight against villains...and the Endbringers. Some tinkers didn't fight, they just made gadgets and gave them to other heroes to use.

Richard Wallis wanted that life for his son.

Colin wanted to make a difference. However he could.

He sighed and continued to draw out the sketch in his notebook. The crisp lines looked more like a CAD drawing than anything a human hand could produce. The sleek circlet was open in a cross-section view, showing off various integrated systems. Colin had spent a lot of his time since his trigger at the library. The more he learned, the more he felt he could learn. It was such an opposite to his social problems that he threw himself into it head first. His father was more than willing to help him with this new obsession. Guilt most likely, he still felt responsible for causing his son distress. He didn't understand that it wasn't his fault. It was all the little things that piled up. The argument was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

They had spoken to a recruiter, sorry parahuman adviser, from the PRT and agreed to a meeting with a representative of the protectorate. Conveniently, Janet's latest job had been in New York, so Colin and Richard flew over with her. Richard was renting a Motel room for the two of them, working off the cost by acting as a mechanic for the patrons and the motel's owner. It was a decent enough arrangement until he could find a garage with an opening.

Their meeting would be in half an hour, but Colin's dad always told him to be early to a meeting. Colin had recently had an idea that might help with that. When he told his father about the invention, Richard put his hand over his face and laughed.

"Not the point, Colin," he had said.

Colin kept sketching, occasionally looking up to see the PRT employees walk by. Since getting his powers, he could see so many adjustments he could make. Whether it was cars, lawnmowers, or a police officer's gun, Colin knew just how to make it better.

He wished people were that easy. He wanted nothing more than to make things better between his mom and dad. He hoped this machine could do it.

He kept working at it, flipping between pages to make more notes and calculations, until his father tapped his shoulder.

"It's time," he said.

The meeting itself was simple. The man behind the desk explained about regulations, legalities, and what the Wards actually did. They met with a kid called 'Page', like in king Arthur's tales, the armour looking somewhat cheap in a way. Public relations, the man had said, nobody wanted child soldiers. The Wards had to look friendly. Colin thought it was dumb. After the initial discussion, Colin's dad asked him if this is what he wanted. He repeated the question enough times that Colin got annoyed before agreeing one final time. Richard had stayed to talk with the PRT man while Colin was free to go back to the lobby. The chairs were comfier out there, so he left.

A nice lady had brought him hot chocolate while he waited, but after a minute of fidgeting, he had pulled out his notebook and started working again.

"What'cha doing there, little guy?" said a boisterous voice. Colin was annoyed, the man was breaking his concentration.

"Hello? Hello, heello? Earth to kid, come in kid," the man continued.

"I'm not a-" oh. Colin recognised the man now, the gleaming blue and gold armour was unmistakable.

"Surprise!" Hero said.







March 25th, 2011

Brockton Bay, New Hampshire



Colin knew he'd been discovered when the alarms started to ring.

He moved quickly, shoving metal tubing through the handles on the lab door. It would buy him some time. He took off his clothes, revealing the body glove he wore beneath it. His fingers moved swiftly, prepping connection points for the armoured sections he would soon be attaching. He donned his armour and ran through the building's plans in his mind. He had hoped for more time, but this would have to do. He had the important parts together.

He stashed the circlet in a compartment on his thigh, strapping other devices where he could. He left his helmet off, without the link to the ENE division's servers it would just be dead weight. The last of Bakuda's bombs went into a pouch alongside his limpet mine EMPs. Finally, he slipped the proof of concept nano-thorn knife into a slot in his gauntlet.

So, the plan.

He needed to extract the Undersiders, counteract the Rig's security systems, and potentially fight another hero. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Extracting the Undersiders would be difficult, to maximise their chances they'd need equipment. He could give them that and take out security by raiding the armoury. Fire control for the Rig's containment foam turrets was next door to it. He would need to take out the force-field too, so the server hub was a must. Finally, the boats would be on lock-down, so they would have to steal the transport, he didn't feel like swimming.

He could hear the shouts of the response team on the other side of the door.

In a way, he was lucky. The vast majority of the PRT's resources had been transferred over to the shore. Personnel were tied up fighting the gangs and the worst they could send at him would be heroes.

If they could spare any, that is.

Colin ripped the camera off the wall, take away their eyes and they wouldn't know what hit them.

Time to make an exit.

Colin activated his plasma blade, shoving it through the south wall. It was thinner than the others, with only a storage room on the other side, but they wouldn't be looking for him in there.

Colin activated some of his equipment before leaving. They would be too focused on what he was 'building' to look elsewhere. The PRT was really paranoid about tinkers, and not without reason either. Wall broken, Colin climbed through into the storage room. He spotted a few odds and ends he thought could help and threw them in a bucket, then he walked into the hallway.

Room 32, section 3. That was the first step. And the loudest, so to speak. Colin ran through the hall as fast as he could. He would have been spotted as soon as he exited the storage room. Even now the Troopers he had distracted would be redeploying to cut him off. That was alright though, he'd bought enough time. He came around the corner at a sprint, bowling straight into a man in red armour.

Shit.

"Colin? What the hell's going on? What's with the alarms?"

Shit shit shit. The rotation. He'd forgotten the deployment cycles, not surprising since Hannah had drafted them. Two heroes on patrol, four patrols in a watch. The next rotation would be on standby in case of a major disaster, but the last shift. The last shift would be resting. Some would go home, but Sam and Ethan's house was in what amounted to a war zone at the moment. Ethan might goof off, but he took safety seriously, especially when it came to his wife.

That meant both Assault and Battery were on the rig.

Colin didn't want to fight his friends, but he had resigned himself to the possibility of it. Given Ethan's experience and power, a direct attack would be futile. He needed something else.

"Colin?" Ethan repeated.

"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere," Colin said.

"So what's the situation, damn alarms are really cramping my RnR, you know?"

"I do. Sorry," Colin said. He shifted to a reverse grip of his halberd, thumb poised over one of many buttons.

"You said that already..." Ethan began to show the slight signs of suspicion, and Colin sprang. He shoved the butt end of the shaft into Ethan's gut and triggered the electric pulse. Within his armour, Assault was almost fully insulated, But the suit wasn't. Sparks flew from the pieces, the high voltage heating the metal and fusing the edges.

'Note to self, next-gen armour should be externally insulated. Lattice-weave coating?'

He shook the thought from his mind, as if was he never would be able to upgrade Assault's armour. They would be enemies. Heroism sucked.

Colin pushed the advantage he created. Ethan's ability was powerful, very hard to beat if he paid attention, but if his concentration slipped, say from an abundance of heat and white sparks flying all over his body, he was screwed.

Like now.

The first swing caught Ethan in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Colin didn't let up, if Assault came after him fully prepared this operation would fail. He took the shaft in both hands, bringing it down on Ethan's solar plexus. The man groaned in pain, clutching his abdomen.

He hesitated.

"I really am sorry, Ethan."

He kicked his friend in the balls.

As he ran towards the security room, he did his best to ignore the growing feeling of guilt. After all, he wasn't done yet.









Lisa knew something was up when the alarms started blaring. She also knew what that something was. Armsmaster was staging his coup and would soon be here to free them. Truth be told, she hadn't expected him to agree to this. She was stuck in a situation she didn't like and took a gamble on the advice of someone she'd never personally met. Weird. And why would Armsmaster even help them in the first place?

Unusual behaviour; possible master effect.

She blinked.

Master effect, lack of personal contact; No range limit.

No range limit, precognitive abilities, interference with thinker abilities; ...Better power?

Lisa sighed. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy, using her power to model the blind spot Script apparently presented was an exercise in frustration. Still, she'd gotten some useful information. Any kind of master effect combined with her range would make the PRT very nervous. Given the Canary trial and what Armsmaster was doing this very moment...even if they did save her, Taylor Hebert could never go home. The PRT would find out who she was, the connections would be too obvious.

She frowned. Taylor's situation was kind of her fault. She knew now that Coil would have probably tortured it out of her anyway, but she had still found out all the information she could. She had thought the girl would be a great recruit for the Undersiders, but Coil had obviously thought otherwise. It didn't make much sense... maybe...

Had Script had mastered Coil too? Was Lisa mastered herself? She panicked a bit. Masters and Strangers were the boogiemen of the cape world, one only had to look at Nice Guy or Heartbreaker to understand why. She really hated not knowing things. It had fucked her up with Rex and it was fucking her up now.

Was Taylor a victim, or was she actually engineering this whole plot? She couldn't know without talking to her, and if her power was right she was already compromised. Would she even know if Taylor told her the truth?

Several loud thumps echoed through the door of her cell. Either that was Armsmaster coming to spring them, or something was going very badly. She shook her head, putting her line of thought in the back of her mind. If she was going to get answers, she would need to get them from the source. This would be difficult enough without constantly second guessing herself.

The door went through a series of clicks, the sound of the deadbolts whirring out from their sockets as soft as her breathing. Then the door opened. Armsmaster stepped inside holding a bundle of clothes and equipment.

"Put those on." His posture was wary, but not of her. Something had already gone wrong. In the hallway stood two figures in PRT trooper uniforms, the blank faces and heavy padding concealing who they are from view. Their postures gave them away, though. Brian was as stoic as ever, containment foam dispenser held at the ready, Alec, on the other hand, was twirling a baton in his hand with all the care of an apathetic teenager. Lisa let out a sigh of relief, everything was normal. She got behind the door to change, wincing as the under-suit and armour pinched her hips and arms. Just how small was the person who wore this every day?

Armsmaster, in the meantime, had gone to the last cell to get Rachel. Tossing her a bundle of her own.

"Where are they keeping my dogs," she said. Of course, those were the first words out of her mouth.

"Leave them," Armsmaster said.

Oh boy.

Lisa turned away from the impending blowup and gathered what details she could. Finding nothing of interest, she went to her first observation.

"What went wrong?"

Armsmaster and Bitch stopped arguing, and Grue tilted his head in his normal 'What do you mean Wrong' way.

"Assault and Battery are on the Rig. I was hoping the resistance would be normal troopers, but sadly that's no longer the case."

Crap. Two protectorate heroes? Sure their little escape party had more capes, but even a slight delay would be bad for them.

"I already took out Assault, but the bad news is that Battery will be angry."

"And we wouldn't like her when she's angry?"

"Shut up, Regent!" synchronised annoyance. Go team Tattle-grue.

"She is a powerful cape. Maybe not as effective without Assault backing her up, but really all she needs to do is stall us until Dragon gets here."

"Dragon? Dragon is coming here and you didn't lead with that part? That sounds a bit more important than your angry teammate," Grue said. Bitch had begun pacing, not comfortable without her dogs. Especially in a place like this.

She wouldn't leave without them either.

"Okay, we modify the plan. Bitch needs her dogs." "We don't have time for-" "Needs her dogs. Period. We can argue about it when we're out of here." Armsmaster wasn't happy, but he nodded. Lisa took that as a good sign. "What's our way out of here? They would have locked down the boats... The transport? Really?"

"I can fly it. If worst comes to worst and I don't make it there, you'll have to improvise."

"And that's why we need the NPC, right? We're so screwed." Thank you, Regent.

"The kennels are near security."

"Then we go there."

"I was just there. That's where they're currently looking for me," Armsmaster said.

That certainly made it difficult.

"What can we use as a distraction?" Two heads turned to Lung's door.

"No," Armsmaster said.

"He might be our best option... "

She needed to convince him. Think, Lisa, think!

"You put him here once, you can do it again. Heroes make deals with villains all the time. The truce for one, hell what we're doing right now could count. I guarantee you, if we let Coil keep Script and the Alcott girl, he'll own this city. You've seen how ineffective the heroes are. You know bureaucracy can't help in this situation.

Hero would do it.

"Hero would do it," she said. She stopped herself, too stunned to continue. Did script just use her as a voice box? What the hell.

"You're right..." Apparently, that was the right thing to say. Armsmaster frowned beneath his helmet, but nodded, and walked to Lung's room. The door opened, and he stepped inside.

"What the hell Lisa!" Grue, Brian, whispered in her ear. She could tell he was furious. He likely, scratch that, definitely didn't approve of the original deal, only going along with it in order to secure his freedom. Getting Lung involved? Attacking their benefactor? The last one she could explain to him, but if he knew her suspicions. If he knew Script was probably mastering everyone she contacted, he'd drop her like a sack of hammers.

"It's the only way, trust me."

"Like I trusted you at the Mayor's? That was a bad idea, Tt. This one's worse."

"It needs to be done.

"And after?"

"After this...you can do what you want, Brian. I'm going to be making up for my mistakes. You might want to do the same."

He sucked in a breath, clenched his fist, and walked away. He stood pointedly as far away from her as he could while still being part of the group. Bitch was getting more anxious with each passing minute. Regent looked amused, but he was a sociopath. Probably best not to take her social norms from him.

Shouts and curse words let the Undersiders know Armsmaster and Lung had begun to argue. Grue looked at her with a pointed expression, and even with the face plate, the message was received. After a tense moment, the shouting stopped. Loud clanking sounds mingled with clicks and snaps like a demented orchestra. Finally, Armsmaster walked back out. Behind him stood a large Asian man in a metal mask.

Lung looked at them quizzically. "You are also bringing these? Useless. With us two it will be enough to crush Coil's men." He wasn't impressed obviously.

"They know where Coil is. We don't," Armsmaster grumbled while making sure everything was secure.

"And where is Bakuda?" Lisa winced as Lung brought up the tinker.

"We don't need her."

"She is mine. I will retrieve her."

Armsmaster stood his ground, glaring up at the gang leader.

"She was bombing civilian targets. She stays."

"A mistake of her youth. She will not make it again. Or do you doubt that I can reign in my followers?" Lung had phrased it like a question, but it was clear there was only one answer he wanted to hear.

"Clock's ticking," Lisa said. Their combined glare was almost enough to make her wince, but they really needed to move.

"We'll continue this later," Armsmaster said. Lung grunted and looked at a sheet on the wall. He ignored the rest of them and went to the last door in the hall. Almost casually he grabbed the handle and began to pull.

"We had a deal, Lung," Armsmaster yelled at the man.

"You need a distraction. We will give you one."

Judging from the clenched jaw, Armsmaster was a very unhappy camper. He sighed.

"No killing, Lung, if anyone dies here I will hold you personally responsible...you don't want that."

His tone made the hairs on Lisa's neck stand up. For his part, Lung looked at him and then nodded. A surprisingly quaint gesture for a man with his reputation. Brian looked about ready to bail and Rachel wasn't far behind. With a quick nod, Armsmaster began to lead them towards the dogs.

Lisa groaned.

This was the worst breakout ever.

 

[Victorian_Irish]

Lung watched the teenagers scamper after his long-time adversary and snorted. This whole situation reeked of puppeteering but he had given his word, twice now. He pulled the edge of Bakuda's door, wrenching the metal like it was a particularly stubborn tarp. Her tiny shriek of fear was amusing, but she calmed down once he announced himself.

He ignored her blathering and focused on the task at hand. Forming fire around one hand, he slid it along the edge of the door. The locks melted as he patiently applied pressure to them. People assumed his pyrokinesis was a result of his transformation. They did so wrongly, in truth he always had it. His control was best when he was calm, and so they did not see great storms of fire. That did not mean he could not use it.

With the door out of the way, he walked over to his lieutenant, putting one a hand over her mouth, the same one he had just melted the door with. She looked at him and he felt her hyperventilating breath muffled by his hand.

"You were a nuisance, Bakuda," he said. "Do not be one again."

He waited until the breaths were more ragged, until a tear started to form in her eye, and then he released her.

"You are learning, and I can be merciful, but should you go too far again... You would not be the first lieutenant I had to replace." She sobbed quietly as he worked at her bonds, she would learn even in this. When you truly face death in the face, when you taste helplessness as someone or something else holds your final breath in their hand, it shakes you. He knew from experience. The trick was to stop that from happening the next time.

Her breath calmed and Bakuda focused on the wall across the room, away from him. Fair.

Still, Lung suppressed a smirk. He had high hopes for her, if she could reign in her own failings she would be a valuable asset. If not... He had seen a city die, one life was nothing.

"There. Your freedom." She clutched her arms around herself and then rubbed her wrists, truly the feeling one got when they were released from bondage was powerful, and something to be savoured, but they did not have time.

"We need a distraction."

"What now? I don't have any of my tools," she said.

"Wrong. They are here. The heroes would have taken them. Come." Lung strode from the room and came face to face with three troopers. Perhaps he had been too patient.

"Freeze! Stay where you are and do not move!" the lead man yelled. Incompetent. They knew who he was, they should have the guts to do what was necessary to recapture him. He sighed, letting the anger flow into him. The threat they posed was little, but doing this without killing them would be annoying.

"No," he said simply. Then he punched the man in the gut.









August 6th, 1996

New York, NY


"So what are you working on, kid? Ray gun? Armour? I'd go with flight devices myself, that's always a winner." Hero pulled over a chair, he studiously ignored the protesting groan of the overtaxed furniture as he sat backwards on it. The cocksure grin peaking out beneath the helmet made him look like some sort of bizarre student teacher, trying to connect with his students. It was oddly endearing.

"It's...complicated. I'm not really sure what it is, just what it's supposed to do," Colin said.

"And what's that?"

"Make things better."

The kid looked at him, and Hero couldn't find any words to say. This was the problem with the Wards. They were good kids most of the time, great kids in some cases, but the things they'd been through... He wanted to blame it on Scion, he really did, but Hero knew that wasn't the whole truth. Earth Bet was in a worse place because of powers, but humans were very good at hurting each other. Entities or no Entities, these poor kids would have gone through hell. At least this way, some of them made it out in one piece. More or less.

Colin Wallis wasn't out of the woods yet, he was still focused on something he had no control over, it was something the Hero saw in a lot of tinkers. Those parahumans didn't have this kind of chance, though, the Wards could be good for him. Hero would be better.

He reached over and closed Colin's notebook, smiling.

"That's neat, but I've got something better. Let's go see my toys, kid," he said. The teen smiled, the hollow look in his eye dissipating with the excitement of seeing Hero's work. They talked to Mr Wallis for permission and then all three went down to the lab.

Hero opened it, sweeping his arms open in a grand gesture. The look on Colin's face was priceless. The boy ran around, acting his age for once, as he jabbered on about the armours and other devices that caught his fancy. Hero watched, bemused, and turned to look at Richard. The older Wallis man's eyes were misty as he silently mouthed "Thank you". Moments like these made Hero feel he might someday live up to his name. He smiled. This would be a good decision.



March 25th, 2011

Brockton Bay, NH



"Check your corners!" Colin snapped at the villains accompanying him. The blasted teenagers had almost zero tactical ability beyond 'Oh, shit! Run!' and it was beginning to drive him crazy. He'd had to bail them out when they got into trouble, which was every time they encountered a patrol. Disguises or no, Hellhound was not a subtle girl. Grue had demonstrated adequate ability with the foam dispenser, using it to block off hallways and seal doors as they went. He was used to thinking like a shaker, so that made sense. The downside was his heated conversation with Tattletale, the two villains nearly shouting at one point before Regent sighed and made them slap each other.

In short, tensions were high.

Hopefully Lung would make his move soon...That wasn't something he ever expected to think, but regardless, it was their only chance. Once they got Hellhound's dogs back, they would have to book it to the landing pad. As soon as Lung did his thing, they would be on the clock.

"Yeah, yeah, roger mon capitan," Regent said with a mock salute.

"This isn't a joke, villain, we have a deal. One that I have sacrificed my career for. Do not make me regret it." So maybe Colin was a little high strung too. Nobody could really blame him for that, right?

"Regent understands, Armsmaster, he's just shit at showing it," Tattletale said. The face shield kept him from reading her expressions, but she sounded sincere enough. He shook his head.

"The kennels are just up ahead. You should take point, if the troopers see me, they'll open fire," Colin said.

"By 'Open fire' you mean foam, right?"

"...probably."

Grue and Regent shared a look. Hellhound didn't seem to care, she just kept walking towards her dogs. Colin had to admit he was impressed by her loyalty. Sure she didn't show it, but Colin was good at non-verbal communication. Rachel Lindt was prickly, mean, and standoffish, but in her own way, she cared for the Undersiders. Colin could respect that.

For her part, Tattletale seemed anxious. He didn't blame her, he was too.







Sam was pissed.

Ethan had run out ten minutes ago to check the situation, but wasn't answering his radio. Trying to communicate with the security station was equally useless. Whatever was going on, it was bad. She donned her own costume, reflexive twitches of her power causing the circuit-board pattern to light up in intervals. Once she was ready, she went looking for anyone who could explain this. She found two.

She wished she hadn't.

Lung was standing to the side as his pet tinker rustled around in some device or another, the woman was waist-deep in the guts of whatever it was, and given what Colin had said about their fight...this was bad.

"Hero." Lung's voice didn't waver and he barely moved. It was as much a dismissal as an acknowledgement. Even clad in grey prisoner's pants and his mask, he cut an imposing figure. Whatever he did to break out of his cell had left him half a foot taller than his baseline and presumably tougher as well.

He had Ethan slung over one shoulder.

"What have you done to him?!" she yelled. The lights grew brighter on her suit, matching her temper.

"I have done nothing," he said. "You have Armsmaster to thank for this."

What?

"You're full of shit! What the fuck have you done to my hus- partner?!"

Lung sighed. He dropped Ethan to the ground, her husband groaning in pain from the fall.

"Why does no one understand? I have nothing to gain from lies. I speak the truth, woman. I have done nothing to your husband, but you will not interrupt our work here."

"The hell I won't." Sam leapt into action. She crossed the space to Lung in a second, raining blows on him in a rapid combo that only a martial artist could match. Sam felt his jawbone crack under her fist as her third rabbit punch hit home. Lung's counterattack came at her like a particularly deadly snail and Sam dropped to one knee, ducking under it. She quickly scrambled up behind him and got ready to kick out his knees.

The next moment, she was on fire.

Someone was screaming, and Sam realised it was her. The pain of the fire was excruciating regardless of the reduced damage. But her charge was running out.

Sam prided herself on being a hero. It was the only thing she'd wanted in life. From the moment she'd gotten her powers, she strived to live up to the expectations of the public, to be something more than human. Right now? Right now she was only about Ethan's safety.

She made a decision. After scrounging a few precious seconds of concentration, Sam used every ounce of her speed to her advantage. She picked up Ethan's prone form and ran. The fire was pulled from her as she left.

Point taken.









"Quit squirming!" the man yelled.

Taylor had been mid-sentence when the guard noticed. Coil had ordered a lock-down on Script's activities, but that only meant she had to get creative. With a not inconsiderable amount of pain, she was able to open a cut on her finger. Welling enough blood out to 'write' with took time and patience. It also got suspicious. Taylor paced a lot, it was one of the few things she could do, really. So the change in behaviour, the quiet hour of her sitting on her bed and doing nothing? It tripped a red flag for the guard. And he found out.

Taylor's bed was covered in red-brown words by that point. From the final, aborted phrase she had tried to tell Lisa to the advice she'd given Colin and the paragraph she'd sent to Jacob, it was all there.

She fought.

She kicked.

He held her in a stranglehold.

She stopped.

Ten minutes later she was brought into a room. Coil sat behind his desk, Senegal and a suited man behind him. The room itself wouldn't have felt out of place in one of the downtown skyscrapers. It had a classic boardroom feel to it, despite the smaller size. Once again, Taylor thought, Coil proves just how much of a douche he is. The hardwood desk and leather seats were complemented by several luxurious items. A chandelier provided the main light in the room, making it darker than most of the complex Taylor had seen. A crystal decanter sat to one side of the desk, it was as conspicuously empty as the tumbler next to it. Finally, the roof. The fucking roof. A recreation of the painting in the Sistine chapel graced it. At least Coil hadn't swapped out Adam for himself.

"I'm disappointed, Taylor," Coil said. "I've told you time after time why you shouldn't take these liberties with me." He paused. "I made you a promise of sorts when you first arrived. Do you remember? Misery. I had thought you grasped the situation. I had thought you understood the implication. Apparently not."

Senegal had the grace to look vaguely disturbed, in a far-off-not-gonna-help-you way. The suited man didn't seem to care and actually checked his watch midway through Coil's speech.

"So. Your message. Coil Died. Do you know more? I could be convinced to go easy on the punishment if you give me what I want."

There was only one proper response to that.

"Fuck you, Coil."

The man sighed, standing up in a resigned manner.

"At the very least, this will be tremendously satisfying for me. Don't worry, though, you won't feel a thing." He lifted a sledgehammer from behind the desk. "Senegal? Hold her still. Wouldn't want to hit the wrong bone, now would we?"

Taylor whimpered.











It started with a rumble.

Then it became a roar.

The next thing Colin knew, the tone of the alarms changed. It was no longer the drawn out whine of the intruder alarms. It was the incessant ringing of the fire alarms. Lung had done his part.

"We need to move," he said. "Now."

Tattletale and Grue nodded, eager to move on. Hellhound had started to grow her dogs, but Colin had already accounted for the increased mass. The transport could take it and the added muscle would be nice if they ran into more troopers. Regent was crouched over one of the PRT men now, his reclaimed sceptre prodding him like a kid with a frog. Colin repeated himself to get their attention, and they were off.

Five capes and three dogs the size of small cars do not make a stealthy party. When they ran into the squad, the troopers had already set up positions. In a better world, they would have moved as a team. They would have played their disguises to their advantage and taken the troopers off guard.

This was not that world.

In this one, Regent tripped the lead soldier. The man let out an undignified yelp before squeezing his trigger. The following moments could best be described as an avalanche. The whole team opened fire, their faith in non-lethal load-outs superseding any kind of fire discipline. Gas grenades and containment foam billowed out in clouds and clumps, and if it weren't for the full helmets the Undersiders wore, they would have been out of the fight before you could blink.

As it was, they stumbled back behind the corner, half blind and scrambling to ensure none of the foam hardened on them. Colin, for his part, had ducked behind the other half of the corridor. A quick check reminded him that, yes, the stairs they needed were directly behind the troopers.

One more betrayal. He sighed.

"Alright, listen up!" he shouted over the cacophony that filled the hallway. "Hellhound, you watch our flanks. Grue and Regent, watch the foam. When it dissolves, you move. Tattletale, access frequency 903.2 and get me an idea of what they're doing behind this crap."

His piece said, Colin lobbed a canister at the hardening foam.

The containment foam was arguably Dragon's greatest invention. It allowed law-keeping organisations the power it needed to subdue a powered opponent without hero support. The formula was a closely guarded secret, as was the recipe of its counterpart. Colin had worked with it for years, and he knew the best ways to work around it.

The canister he had liberated from the security room was a cylinder with a keypad on it. The four-digit code was enough to ensure that the average Joe couldn't use it without authorization. Naturally, he knew the code for this week.

He chucked the device into the middle of the barrier and waited. The nervous shuffles and heavy breathing were confirmation enough that the Undersiders weren't combatants. He was actually a little upset it had taken the Protectorate this long to catch them. Fucking thinkers.

"OK," Tattletale said. "They've called for re-reinforcements but the situation is crap for them. Lung and Bakuda set off some kind of bomb, Assault and Battery are in section three fighting- No, they're gone already. Retreated from Lung. They're calling in our uniform numbers now, so disguises are useless."

All expected.

"And Dragon's ETA is five minutes."

Oh. that wasn't.

"Fuck!" Grue yelled. "We're screwed!" Hellhound seemed to agree, based on the growling noises she was making. Regent was suspiciously calm, but the kid always was a little off.

"No, the mission is still doable. You just have to do Exactly what I say. Clear? No arguing, no doddling. We get out clean," Colin said. He was never the most charismatic of people, but he'd had a lot of leadership training. His posture, tone, and even word choice had been carefully filtered for the result he desired.

"Okay. We do this your way," Grue said. "Don't fuck us over."

Nods all around. Good.

"Guys?" the thinker interrupted again. "The repair team has reached the security room, we've got three minutes until the force-field is back online."

Hmm...Now he was starting to panic.

He patched himself into the comm system, eyes still on the dissolving foam, and accessed the PA.

"Lung!" he yelled. He really hoped he wouldn't regret this.









"Lung!" the shout came from all over, and the man who took that name paused. "Lung we need you to get to the generator and take it out. If you don't, we'll be trapped here!"

Lung cared little for the man who dared command him. He did, however, value his freedom. He turned his elongated neck to stare at his tinker. The small woman gulped and let out a small, mousy sound. "I guess that's my cue?"

Lung Nodded.

"I'll get to work, just keep them off my back."

Lung let the fire rage for a moment, then nodded forcefully. Bakuda scampered down the hall.

A dragon followed.











A hole the size of a chair had formed in the wall of goo, the troopers on the other side had reformed their line but held their fire.

Their mistake.

Colin's EMP ripped through the hall. The slightly warm air whooshed past, knocking out radios, targeting assistants, and most importantly their foam dispensers.

Grue and Regent took a running start and leapt through the hole, Grue's emanating darkness preceding them. Colin followed after popping another dissolver. The dogs would need something a little bigger after all. The sensation of sensory deprivation was uncomfortable, but Colin still had his floor plans. He could deal with it. The rest of the Undersiders were used to the tactic and quickly got to work. Muffled shouts and sounds of fighting filled the sea of darkness as Grue provided directions over the comm.

The sounds, that little there were, stopped.

The inky clouds pulled back, revealing the prone troopers. He had just enough time to see Regent make a man uppercut his friend in the groyne before the reached the door.

"Less than three minutes, move people!" he yelled. They took the stairs two or three at a time, passing floor after floor as they went. Grue foamed the doors they passed, delaying any pursuit in their wake. Colin pushed open the door to the roof with his halberd at the ready. The force-field was barely visible, a translucent bubble the colour of dragonfly wings, shifting endlessly in the sky.

The transport was there, ready to go. Colin figured he could get it airborne in a minute if he skipped the pre-flight. The was one more problem, however. Two technically.

Assault and Battery were on the roof too.

"Armsmaster," the female hero said. "What the hell have you done?"

Crap.







"Undersiders, start the transport, the manual is under the pilot's seat," he said, tossing the circlet to Tattletale. "If I'm losing, leave without me."

If only he felt as confident as he sounded.

Assault and Battery were good at their jobs. They were fucking outstanding at it when working together. Ethan might have been bruised by their previous encounter, but he was by no means helpless.

"How did you know?" he said. He didn't bother to elaborate, they knew what he meant.

"We've worked with you for years," Ethan said. "Did you really believe we wouldn't know how you'd think?"

"Tricked you before." Ethan winced at that. His pride was hurt, sure, but his friend had betrayed them. It was an open wound. He had to stall them somehow.

"Cheap shot," Ethan replied. "Won't happen this time."

"Colin," Sam said. "We get it, OK, we know you're being mastered. Dragon figured it out. Just come quietly, please, we can help you." The hurt and concern in her voice were enough to twist his gut, but Colin didn't do things in half measures.

"I'm sorry," he said simply.

"So are we," Ethan said.

All three sprang into action as if by an unseen signal. Assault placed himself between Colin and Battery, buying time for his wife just as he deflected the grappling hook shot that way. He stood guard, watching Colin sprint at him, then ducked.

Battery vaulted over him in a fraction of a second, covering the distance between her and Colin nearly as fast. Trusting his instincts, Colin dropped to a knee. Battery favoured the left side when engaging a target, usually opening with a flurry of hits meant to disorient and daze. Then, Assault would move in for a heavy blow, using his power to punt the enemy away and buy time for Battery to charge up again.

Textbook.

Colin swept his pole-arm behind him, the unusual feeling of the weapon bouncing off of something proved his thought. He performed a rearward jab and twisted, catching Assault between the legs. Battery's fists hammered his back, but she'd spent too much of her charge getting to him, his armour could take it.

Assault tripped, the ability to be unaffected by kinetic force doesn't get you out of leverage, and fell to the ground. Battery took a short hop back as her costume went dark. She began charging immediately. Assault was already trying to get up.

Sometimes he hated the part of him that worked off of logic.

"Don't," Colin said. He quickly unclipped Bakuda's last bomb from his belt and pressed it to Ethan's chest. "Even I don't know what this'll do."

His friends- The two heroes, rather- looked at him in shock. Battery's glow faded.

"You wouldn't." "Colin?" Assault and Battery were a nigh unstoppable team. But their greatest asset was also their greatest weakness. Each other.

"All we want is to leave. If you retreat, we all get to live. If not...Well, who knows what will happen. The last one of these I tossed made Lung's arm petrify."

Battery's face went pale.

"Don't listen to him, Sam, he won't do it!" Ethan yelled. Colin knew he had about a thirty percent chance of convincing them he meant it. That didn't matter. They'd gotten distracted.

"You're right," he said. The grappler was halfway to Sam's face when the second word left his lips. It hit her at about the average speed of a baseball pitch. Powers or no, a hit like that to the face would daze you. Battery hadn't had a chance to regain her concentration. She fell like a sack of bricks.

"Sam!" Ethan ran to her side, uncaring of the bomb pressed against him. Colin let him go. The hit only had a small chance of permanent damage, most parahumans had reflexive usage when their lives were in danger. He needed to capitalise on the distraction. It didn't stop him from feeling like shit, though.

The engines had started to wind up in the meantime, the Undersiders presumably finding the on switch. Once Lung did his part, they'd be home free.

"You son of a bitch!" Ethan charged at him, getting faster with each step. Colin braced himself, anticipating the acceleration, and twisted out of the way. Assault's fist clipped his pauldron, and Colin spun sideways, crashing to the ground. Damn kinetic manipulation. Ethan spun much more gracefully than his speed should have allowed, dashing at Colin and kicking him up from the ground. He followed up with a hay-maker that catapulted Colin into the wall by the stairs. Before he could do much, Assault was on him again. His former friend peppered him with blows, punctuating each one with a shout of "Why!?"

He was trapped, unable to get away.

Battery was out cold, but her fall had only propelled Assault into a fury. He might not stop. Already, Colin could feel the armour on his chest dimpling, the successive kinetic force warping the metal slowly. He didn't like his options, but he'd take them.

He wrapped his left arm around Assault's back,pulling him close, and removed the nano-thorn knife from his gauntlet. Hooking his right arm under Ethan's armpit, Colin brought the knife to the hero's neck.

He flicked the switch. The fuzzy grey cloud typical of his magnum opus formed, the edge of it's fluctuating shape close enough to shave with. They both stopped moving.

"Wha-" Assault swallowed with thick motions, unwilling to test the knife's edge. "What happened to you, Colin? This isn't you. It can't be."

"It is," he replied. "I have something I need to accomplish, and whether I like it or not, I won't let anyone stand in the way of that."

"For what?! A missing girl? Newsflash Colin, this is Brockton Bay! People go missing all the time! You've never cared before!"

"And that was a mistake!" Colin roared. "I had my eyes opened this last month, Ethan. I finally realise what it is we were to this city. Failures.

"We failed to keep them safe, we left that in the hands of the gangs. We failed to do anything about the crime rate, failed to play hardball with the bastards that poisoned this city because we valued our image more than our people! We! Failed!"

Ethan tried to wiggle out of Colin's grasp, but friction or no friction the hold was strong. A faint rumble echoed across the bay and the translucent bubble that was so ever-present in his life flickered and died.

"I'm done failing Ethan. I'm done working for an organisation that constantly shows it's failures while calling a calm day a success. You saw problems with the system long before I ever did. The Birdcage? Hero would have hated it," Colin said.

"Is that what this is about? You think you're following in your dead mentor's footsteps?! You're fucking insane, Colin!"

Colin threw his friend to the ground. Ethan got into a ready stance, skidding a few feet away, but did nothing else.

"Maybe I am. I think we all are. The Protectorate is a broken system full of contradictions. I want to help people who need it. I just finally realised that I can't do that here."

"You better hope I never see you again Colin. If I do, you're going down hard. You hear me, Traitor?!"

"Yeah. I hear you."

Colin walked away from the ashes of his old life.

The transport was airborne a minute later.





"They left without us," Bakuda said.

"Mmhm," Lung replied.

"How the fuck do we leave? Did he expect us to swim? Maybe you can but I-"

"We ask politely."

"What?" Bakuda looked at her boss like he was insane, not that that was a new thought or anything. She really should have turned him down when he offered her this job. It was going to turn her prematurely grey.

"Look at me. They will not say no."

She looked at the silver-scaled man in front of her, his limbs and neck were stretched beyond human proportions, his scales were unblemished, and the last man to shoot at him was casually punted down a hallway.

"Point taken...so, boats then?"

"Boats."







When Crystal saw Kaiser storming away, she had assumed the worst. She hadn't expected to see a crowd of cheering longshoremen shouting "Hebert for mayor!" or "Fuck the Empire!". Apparently, Danny was doing pretty well for himself. She flew down, reorienting herself to the ground, and landed. The crowd parted around her and kept a stony glare in her direction. The tension almost got to her when Danny pushed through the crowd.

"It's alright, she's a friend," he said. "What brings you here Crystal?"

"Just the usual Mr He- Danny. I wanted to make sure you were doing alright with everything going on...looks like you didn't need the help."

"We appreciate the thought, but yeah. We're okay. There aren't any more gangsters in the area." Something twigged at her about the way he'd said that, but she brushed it off. It made sense that they would have people watching the block, they had the manpower to do it.

"I'm still doing my best, I wanted you to know that. I haven't given up on my friend." The older man's face fell as she said it, but he nodded. They were still on the same page.

"Do you think we should tell Armsmaster? About...you know."

"He already knows my daughter is missing. The whole damn city knows at this rate. The best we can do right now is stay close and keep an eye out. The protectorate is too busy to help right now.

"there is something you could do for us, though. We're starting to run low on a few essentials, food and medicine mainly. If you could head somewhere the stores are still working and grab some for us, we'd appreciate it." She could tell he was worried, but she admired how he was able to push it off to the side and focus on the now. She wished she had that kind of strength.

"Sure can, I'll be back before you know it." Danny handed her a bundle of money that she tried to turn down, but he just pressed it firmly into her hand.

"We're not looters, and others need charity more than us. We'll pay for what we get."

Why the hell wasn't this guy a hero already? Right, lack of powers. But still, he was an everyday hero at the very least. Crystal waved goodbye and started to take off.

Suddenly the air shook.

A bright flash made her look away, eyes watering at the light. A roar thundered passed them, windows and doors rattling. The sound of sirens filled the air.

Part of the Rig had exploded.

Crystal stopped where she was, joining the people of the ground as they watched the symbol of the protectorate's might burn. It was built too tough to go up entirely, but one of the supports had crumbled and it was limping back to shore, hoisted along by industrial winches. Maybe a fifth of the structure was smoking, an eighth was burning, and less than a tenth was actually gone. But still, it was just...what should she even do? The crowd watched for minutes as the fires raged on, a small popping noise preceded the collapse of the tinkertech force-field, the clear barrier becoming visible for a split second as it failed.

The protectorate's tinkertech transport shot from the roof, screaming across the skyline and another, smaller, craft was following behind, swooping out of the clouds and barreling straight for it.

Crystal's phone went ballistic. She was too stunned to answer.

 

[Victorian_Irish]

Spoiler: Warning

Contains S9 doing S9 things. Not graphic overly much, just Bonesaw.

Little known fact: Jacob loved romance novels.

Strange? Perhaps, but really he found the interactions quite interesting. A lot of the time, the protagonists would manipulate their intended love interests into situations that benefited them. It was about as accurate a depiction of humanity as you could find in a gas station.

Specifically, one just outside of Mount Carroll, Illinois.

When Jacob had gone in for gas, everything predictably went to chaos. Crawler was content to lounge around inside the eighteen-wheeler the Nine had taken from...someone who no longer needed it. So it was left to the Siberian to hunt down the fleeing townsfolk. That was fine, Jacob liked to let her have fun, she got dour otherwise.

And so, with Bonesaw plucking away inside some farmer and Mannequin trying on hats of all things, Jacob decided it was time for a rest and looked through the books.

Mask-crossed lovers looked like a riot and ever so much a cliche. He smiled, right up his alley.

A few minutes later, the Siberian wandered back in, licking the red off of herself. Burnscar, Cherish, and Shatterbird had been quiet lately. But what could he do to cheer them up? A shift in his position caused the bright sunlight to shine directly on his face, the weather had been really good lately.

Wait.

Perfect.

Jacob tossed the book into his back pocket and wandered over to the grocery aisle. Humming to himself, he grabbed some sliced ham, bread, juice, and a smorgasbord of condiments. A quick search of the bodies led him to a few blankets and a cooler in one of the mobile homes parked outside.

He grinned.

The others had gone about their business in the meantime, but slowly the confusion and questioning glances started to pile up.

Jacob was halfway through making the last ham sandwich when Bonesaw popped her head in.

"What'cha doing, uncle Jack?" she asked.

"Bonesaw, you really must wash your hands if you're staying in the kitchen. Don't you agree?"

The girl looked at her red stained arms before turning back to him with a sheepish expression.

"Sorry, Jack, I just got so caught up in the man's vascular system that I wasn't really thinking. Hang on." She skipped over to the sink and stood on her tip-toes, washing her hands to the tune of a children's song.

"So what is it you're going?" she asked again.

"I thought it was too nice a day to spend inside. I think it's been far too long since we've had a proper picnic," Jacob said. Bonesaw's eyes lit up like the fourth of July. He smirked, evidently that was the right thing to say.

"Yay! This is going to be the best! I'm going to make so many friends and Ned will be able to really go for a run and Siberian is going to have sooo much fun!" The little girl took a deep breath as Jacob watched, bemused. "This will be the best picnic ever! I have to tell the others." she hugged his waist and ran back out of the mobile home.

That went better than expected.

Jacob shrugged and pulled out his novel, it was time to see how Obviously-not-Alexandria dealt with her attraction to Obviously-not-Eidolon, especially when Obviously-not-Bluebeard came into the picture. The best moments in life were the ones where he didn't even need to do anything, his enemies got embarrassed all by themselves.

He almost wanted to laugh, but that would be too cliched.









Graham Jackson was bored.

His stupid sister had convinced their parents that he had been the one to dip into the lunch baskets. The little demon had eaten all the cookies; mom wasn't happy about it. He sighed. Fuck, he'd kill for a cigarette. He knew it was a bad habit, no surprises there, but the calm he felt after a good puff or two was worth it. He'd had to leave his stash at home, Graham didn't want his sister to find those on the trip. That was the cause of his current predicament. He couldn't stand his family without a little chemical endurance, but he could get that with them hanging around all the time.

"I know that look." Graham turned. The girl in front of him was attractive in that dangerous sort of way, sensual with a calm ferocity. He shook himself before he could get all sappy. She pulled a cigarette pack out of her baggy hoody, offering it to him.

"Guilty," Graham said. "Thanks."

"S'nothing," The girl took a deep drag from her own cancer stick, eyes darkening with pleasure, damn were those burns on her cheeks? Dangerous was sexy, but if those were self-inflicted...bit heavy for his taste.

"So...where you from?" he asked, patting himself down. Did he leave his lighter at home? Crap, probably did. The girl snorted, her wild brown curls framing pretty green eyes.

"Really? That's what you ask?" she said, voice tinged with disdain. Ouch. "I think you forgot something pal."

All of a sudden, Graham's cigarette was lit. The girl hadn't pulled out a match or lighter, as far as he could tell it had just spontaneously ignited. That meant-

"Holy shit! You're a cape!"

"Yup," she said. She moved a little less timidly, a little more fiercely, and it really worked for her. Graham just hit the jackpot.

"Wow, I mean, shit what are you even doing here? This is just a getaway for crappy suburban families, the kind that wants the 'great outdoors'," he said.

"Same as you," she said. "My family wanted to go on a picnic. Kinda glad I came."

That was gratifying.

"Hey, I don't wanna come off as forward, but my name's Graham. What's yours?"

"That's the part you're forgetting, Graham," she said. She was smiling and it was honestly really distracting. Did he know her from somewhere, she seemed familiar.

"Do I-"

"Mimi my dear!" came a loud, male voice. It wasn't grating like Graham's father's voice, and it didn't have that sly tone you'd hear in a politician or spokesperson. It was the same kind of loud you would hear at a theatre, where the actors have to really project. It was a stage man's voice, calm and vibrant. And attached to the single scariest thing Graham had ever seen in his life.

Jack Slash himself, goatee and trimmed hair styled to perfection. The man would have had a handsome face if it wasn't attached to a psychopath.

"I see you've made a new friend! That's wonderful," he said. He walked right up to the two of them, throwing an arm around the girl, Mimi, and the other over his own shoulder. Graham was too scared to move. "I hope he's a decent sort. There are far too many people these days who are put off by little things like scars or surly dispositions. It simply wouldn't do if your heart got broken by an uncivilised boy."

"He's okay, Jack," she said. "Likes to smoke."

Jack Slash tutted, turning an honest to god parental look at Mimi.

"I told you it's a bad habit, it'll kill you one day," he said.

"I need it. Keeps the edge going."

"Fine, fine, just not around Bonesaw, alright? You know how she gets about this."

"Humph."

Graham couldn't believe it, nearly refused to in fact. Jack fucking Slash and Mimi, having a goddamn heart to heart? The murderer sounded like Graham's mom, chastising his dad again for drinking during the day. It had the tired quality of an argument that had been played out too many times to count.

The villains led him back to the main campground. Gone were the cheerful sounds of Frisbee and wholesome families. Instead, Graham heard people screaming and inhuman laughter. After a particularly loud crash, Jack turned to him.

"Don't mind Ned, he may look unconventional, but under all the chitin he's just a bit playful. He usually has to stay out of sight, so I hope you don't hold it against him if he comes off as violent."

It was a nightmare. He'd wake up soon. Carly would be bugging him and he'd tease her about her dolls, mom would break it up and send him outside and then dad would hand him a beer and some words of advice.

It's just a dream, they can't hurt me.

Just a dream.

Bonesaw ran up to the trio as they passed the RV parkade, the small blonde girl twittering excitedly the way Carly did when she did something she liked. It was a little scary, seeing these wackos be so...normal. They were monsters for god's sake, they didn't deserve shit like family or downtime, the Protectorate was supposed to be hounding them twenty-four seven.

"Mimi made a friend too?" the girl asked. For her part, Mimi nodded. Her motions had gotten more mechanical the closer they got to the campground. Maybe she hated this kind of thing?

"So did I! We're going to be best friends, I can tell!" Fuck, was that blood on her dress? "Come on, uncle Jack, I wanna introduce you! I forgot her old name re~ally quick, but I gave her a shiny new one so it's all good, right?"

Graham stopped listening. He could only stare ahead.

Bonesaw's 'friend' came shambling out from behind a tent. Her legs moved as if she wanted to run, but was forced to come closer, and awkward stepping shuffle with the pressure at the wrong angles. She had a bit of blood left on her from whatever Bonesaw had done, but her dress was clean. It must have been carefully put on her after Bonesaw finished, Graham didn't think she was able to dress herself anymore. The girl's hands came straight out of a horror movie, having been replaced with long blades, the serrated edges still sticky, dripping red. Her arms moved in angles that were just plain wrong, held off to the sides above her shoulders. The eyes were vacant, but Graham couldn't tell if it was because she was dead or because her mind had broken.

His eyes watered.

He remembered those eyes differently, they had been shining brightly all the way here.

"Carly." He couldn't stop the words from spilling out, even as he couldn't stop the tears.

"That's what it was! Did I ever feel rude, forgetting a friend's name like that. I did give her a really good one, though, I promise. Princess Stabbington, cool huh?" the little lunatic was smiling up at him like she wanted a pat on the head. Carly used to do that when she aced a test or won a track meet. She'd follow him around the house until he caved in and rubbed her head. It made her smile like nothing else could.

"You fucking sicko. You- What did you do to my sister?" He wanted to yell, really he did, but it was just too much. His skin felt wrong, his muscles were on the verge of collapsing. He'd been freaking out over Jack Slash for minutes now, but this just made everything so...was he going to die?

"No swearing!" the girl said. "It's bad! Don't you want to be a good older brother? She was looking everywhere for you, you know."

Oh god.

"Mimi, do you mind terribly if I borrow Mr Graham? I think we need to have a chat about proper behaviour around my girls."

"okay," she said. Mimi's words sounded wooden now. "I was done with him anyway."

"Wonderful."

Done with him? She had picked him out for a reason, right? There was some reason why he didn't end up like Car- Like the others. Why he wasn't getting chased by Crawler or The Siberian, or experimented on or any other horrible fate. Mimi had wanted something and she obviously didn't get it.

They'd kill him.

He had no protection. The camp was doomed and he was right smack in the middle of them. He couldn't escape, not like this. They'd chase him down. They'd twist his bones and flesh into some puppet, they'd make him into some freak like they did to Carly, they'd-

Do nothing to him. Why would they, right? Who could do anything when they felt so calm?

"Jeez, guys? Were you trying to make him trigger?" A new voice, feminine with a slight accent. The girl speaking was attractive, with a streak of purple in her dark hair, but Graham was more interested in the way she moved. It was languid, peaceful. A sort of calm in the storm surrounding them. Wait...wrong, something was wrong. "I mean sure, if you want to do it, have at him. Just don't think it's worth it. He's some brat, not anything special."

"Cherish, dear, that's not a nice way to speak about Mimi's friend, now is it?" Jack said. Graham thought hard about the man's arm over his shoulder. He should be feeling something, but what? Anger? No, that's wrong too.

"S-sorry," Cherish said. "Just trying to save you the trouble, he was this close to snapping."

Jack smiled. "Put him back, Cherish, I'm actually somewhat intrigued."

Oh. Oh! Fuck, shit, she mastered him. Graham's pulse rocketed, vision blurring as he struggled to catch his breath. Oh god.

"Huh, he was really close, wasn't he?" Bonesaw said. She was fiddling with some tools in her dress. "I wonder if he could be something pretty. Can we try, Jack? Please?"

Jack Slash laughed. "Sure, why not? Alright then, Graham was it? Your task is simple: Run. Run and don't get caught."

He didn't need anything more than that. He bolted. At first, his steps were shaky and he stumbled down the path, nearly falling in his panic. Then he hit his stride, sprinting away from the monsters, hearing their disjointed laughter follow him. And those last words.

"Princess Stabbington? Fetch."





For his part, Jacob watched the young man run. It was boring.

He sighed, these little things were guilty pleasures of a sort. They had no substance to them, but the others enjoyed themselves. It was sometimes necessary to let them off the leash, so to speak. But as for him? Nothing. He never enjoyed these moments, merely put the right words in their ears so they'd be more cooperative later on. But could he keep on doing this? He'd never give up the art of course, but he felt like he was stagnating. He-

Jacob felt like he had no more challenges in his life. Like the countless hopefuls of old, he had reached the zenith of his craft,and still had yet to present his magnum opus. He needed a challenge. He needed a worthy opponent.

He stopped, was it that simple? A rival, someone his opposite in every way? It was a strange thought. Could he cultivate one himself? Raise not a protege, but an enemy? What was he thinking, he was Jack Slash. Of course he could. For the first time in months, Jack's smile was genuine.





August 24th, 1996

New York, New York



"Hey Colin, how's that brainstorming going, eh?" Hero said. His helmet was off, as it usually was while they were in the lab. Hero didn't stand by the whole keeping identities secret from allies thing, he was a pretty open guy.

"Nothing. Dammit, I'm useless."

"Hey, don't say that. It's not true. A lot of what you've done is a learning thing, but the additions you made for my gear has made it so much better. Don't feel down if you're having trouble drafting an idea, Colin. It's different for everybody."

"I just wish I knew what it did."

"Hmm." Hero walked over and took the notebook. Oddly, each of Colin's versions looked the same.

"These are identical."

"I know. I tried to do like you said and refine the idea, but it's just stuck. I can't think of how to improve it."

"Maybe you don't have to," Hero said. When the younger man looked at him, he continued. "Little known fact, I didn't have iterations on my first weapon. The disintegrator came to me like it was packed in a can. Maybe this is the same."

Hero always tried to cheer the kid up when he could, Colin was much too serious. Maybe he should introduce him to Mouse Protector. He snickered at the thought. He'd hate her on principle.

He stopped laughing when he took a closer look.

Something clicked in his head and he dashed to the whiteboard. Colin's diagram was splayed out in his own handwriting, and Hero dissected each piece carefully. If this did what he thought it did...

A metal circlet meant to be worn on the head, with parts from an MRI machine interspersed and focused. He cursed softly. He was right. Hero turned, and he felt sad as Colin jumped. His face must have looked bad if that was his protege's reaction. Crap, he really didn't want to spook him.

"Colin...this machine is, well it's not-" Crap. How the hell do you tell someone that their invention, their first invention at that, is...well, evil was too strong a word. It was bad, but not intentionally malicious. The sad part was that Hero could see the reasoning behind it. He'd heard Colin mutter it enough times to himself : "A world where everyone can be happy". It was true in its own, twisted way. If you used this device you could make someone content forever.

After all, they wouldn't be able to feel anything else.

"It's not quite ready. If you can't come up with anything else to try I suggest we shelve it for now. Go back to basics, yeah?" he offered. Colin shrugged, dejected but not broken. Never broken, if Hero had anything to say about it.

"Right!" he barked, pulling up a whiteboard. "Armour! The bread and butter of the tinker. It protects you, but could theoretically do anything else. Mine lets me act as a mover and blaster, and I have no doubts that yours will be any less effective." Hero watched Colin get to work, bouncing ideas off of his mentor when needed, but content to build this suit himself. Hero bit his lip.

'I'm such a coward,' he thought.









March 25th, 2011

Brockton Bay, NH



The transport shot through the sky.

Content for the moment, Colin set the autopilot to take them somewhere remote. Then he walked into the back and sat down.

"Thanks," Grue said. The teen had taken off most of the PRT gear, leaving the helmet on for the moment. His own costume sat on the bench beside him and he took his time putting it on.

"Didn't do much."

"Yeah, you did. You kept your word, broke us out of somewhere we wouldn't have been able to on our own."

"I was only able to do that because I ran the building. Anyone else would have failed, it doesn't make me special" He looked at the villain. "And we are not friends, Grue, your thinker has intel I need. This was her price."

Grue looked at him, blank face mask reflecting nothing of his thoughts.

"Must be something important then. For you to give all this up."

"Yes."

They said nothing more on the matter. The other Undersiders kept their distance. Tattletale was still jumpy, and the less socially gifted gave no sign they cared what he thought. Fair enough.

That left the future. Colin had just burned every bridge he'd ever been on. The Protectorate had been his life and strangely enough he didn't miss it as much as he thought he would. Yes, fighting Ethan had hurt ,and would hurt more in the future as each of his teammates saw him again. But in spite of that, he didn't miss the job. He had always been in it to be a hero, that would never change no matter what anyone called him.

In the more immediate sense, however, things were still messy. Tattletale would tell him the location of her employer. But from what little he knew about Coil, the man had an army of mercenaries. Colin was good, but not that good. Too bad he'd left Lung on the Rig, he hated the man with a passion but he couldn't deny his effectiveness. Maybe the Undersiders would be up for it. It still felt like he was missing something, though.

"Hey Grue," he said. "How would you feel abo-"

The radar screamed at him and Colin scrambled back to the cockpit. A small aircraft was closing on the transport. Exceeding it's speed by nearly half. Oh, right.

Dragon ripped the wings off the plane and everything went to hell.









Crashing a plane is an art. You have to get the angle just right, control the speed as frantically as a caffeinated squirrel, and finally the most important part: Don't die. Colin was very good at the last one, but if you could find someone with extensive experience crashing a plane in an urban environment he would eat his halberd.

"Hang on to something!" he yelled. The others all shouted one thing or another, a loud muddling of words that meant nothing to him, add the three dogs' barking and it was pretty much just noise.

Colin pulled the nose up, which was about the only thing he could do. When Dragon had ripped the wings off she'd also taken the V-ToL turbines with her. The ability to go faster wasn't much help when you're falling. They plummeted past the Medhall building, the bright neon sign just another distraction while he fought the controls. The GPS put them right in the middle of the downtown core.

Right where the refugees were. Fuck.

He gunned it.

The additional force pushed him into his seat. Pained yelps and cussing told him one or more of the villains were injured. That was just great, they hadn't even hit the landing part yet.

The transport careened off the side of a corporate building, some multinational tech firm with identical cookie-cutter offices. Oops. The ground got really close, then they hit...foam?

Colin sighed. Of course Dragon would use foam. It gave him a pretty good idea of what suit she was using too. He groaned, hauling himself out of the seat in as dignified a manner as he could. He grabbed his halberd and eased himself into the back. The transport had buckled when it hit, the foam hadn't quite absorbed all of the fall. It had, however, covered over most of the vehicle. Out the top it is.

"Sound off! Who's hurt?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Grue said. The way he held his ribs said otherwise, but this wasn't the time to be picky. Hellhound glared at him holding her three dogs close. One of them, the pug, looked like it'd broken a leg. All four of them were covered in bruises.

"Fuck me!" Regent said. He hauled himself out of the cargo webbing he'd gotten tangled up in. Clever kid, that stuff was nigh indestructible. He didn't envy the chance of concussion, though.

Tattletale said nothing.

"Tattletale? Are you injured?" "Hey, Tt, say something!"

No response. Colin saw her blonde hair peeking out from the back of the plane. What little cargo they'd had on board had gone ballistic mid-flight. The small boxes were not dangerous on their own, but if it had smacked her into the wall? Damn. Colin walked over and took her pulse and breathing. Steady. She was just unconscious.

"I don't suppose she told any of you who your boss is? Didn't think so." Fuck! Why couldn't plans go smoothly for once? "New plan. I'll cut a hole. Grue, you make a smoke screen and get the others out. I'll hold off Dragon, I've worked with her long enough to know her tricks."

"Doesn't that mean that she knows yours too?" Regent chimed in.

"Got a better idea?"

"Not really, just reminding everyone how fucked we are." The little brat said it with a sarcastic grin. Colin couldn't see it under the helmet, but it was there. Dick.

"We move once the way is clear." With that said, he ignited the plasma blade, biting deep into the metal, and began to carve up the wall.









Thomas Calvert was...not scared, perturbed. After Ellisburg he had a new meaning for the word fear and used it sparingly. The situation had quickly spiralled out of control. Out of desperation, he'd contacted the Travelers ahead of schedule. Unfortunately, they had no means by which to arrive quickly. Trickster assured him they would be in town soon to discuss their employment.

Much too late.

In one timeline, Coil calmly asked for Senegal's sidearm. Then, with lightning fast motions, he shot everyone in the room.

In the other, he rubbed his temples. The cathartic memories of the collapsed timeline calmed him.

"Repeat that, if you would," he said to the girl on the cot.

"83.371% chance it happens tonight."

"Hmm...'You must ask the right questions, detective'. Mr Pitter, a double dose, please. I intend to ask a lot of questions."









"There." The chunk of metal was about as wide and tall as a sedan. It had taken about ten minutes to carve it out. Ten minutes that Dragon had to prepare.

He winced in advance.

"We're going." Grue leapt up on of the dogs, the one-eyed one, Angelina? And smoke started to pour out of him. With muffled thunderous footsteps, the Undersiders pulled their disappearing act. Colin was left alone.

He checked his gear one last time. Nano-thorn knife in its sheath, check. Limpet mines, check. And he still had one of Bakuda's bombs. There's one wild card for him.

Dragon, on the other hand, was probably still using the Cawthorne. Minimal weaponry, but He only had one dissolver left. The sheer volume of containment foam could be problematic.

Time to face the music.

He stepped out of the transport and landed on the pavement. Around him he could see the remnants of his landing. The building he'd clipped had been liberally foamed to prevent structural collapse. The street was abandoned, what few stragglers might have been here wisely ran from the crashing tinkertech. Dragon sat in the middle of the road, the suit shared a form with its namesake, the European vision of a mythical beast. The Cawthorne sat lightly on its haunches, long neck and wings ending in multiple containment foam sprayers. Doubtlessly she had equipped the machine with a good handful of gadgets, it's what he would do after all.

"Armsmaster." Her voice told him pretty much everything he needed to know. She was sad, if not breaking down on the inside. She had made up her mind, he had no chance of changing it. And she had already determined that this would come to a fight.

"Dragon," he said. Foregone conclusions or not, this might be his last chance to speak to her. The silence was expected, but still unsettling.

"Why?" Her tone lacked Ethan's anger or Sam's confusion. It was hurt in a way he hadn't felt since the last time he saw his mother. It was resigned, fully aware that the worst had come to pass, but still desperately trying to understand.

"I could list a dozen reasons I left the Protectorate, but that isn't what you mean, is it? You want to know what could make us so distant, right?" He waited for her to speak, but the metal figure stood still, small drops of water starting to ping off its skin. "It's a small thing, Dragon, only one difference. I can't follow this bureaucracy anymore. And you? I know you. You're a good person, one of the best I've ever known in fact, but the one thing you'd never do is turn on authority. I don't know why. I'm as stumped by that fact as you are at the fact that I could become a turncoat. It's lost in translation. Same as whatever our relationship was."

"You've become a lot more poetic, Co- Armsmaster. It's out of character for you," she said after a pause.

"Maybe it is. As it stands I feel better than I have in a long time. Our talks made the job bearable, but it simply hasn't been the same ever since Hero."

She went quiet. Maybe it was out of respect, maybe she knew there was nothing more to talk about. They stood, rain picking up and soaking into their respective armours, weapons ready and minds clouded. Colin sighed and pulled his halberd into a ready position, held across his body.

"You gonna fight me?" he asked, forcing the words through his throat.

"Yes, Armsmaster, I am," Dragon replied, her own voice a shell of its normal vibrancy.

Spoiler: Song for that Feels

 

[Victorian_Irish]

September 15th, 2000

New York, New York





Colin was torn. One one hand, his work was progressing well. If he kept up this pace, his new armour upgrades would be done by the end of the day. Programming in martial arts manoeuvres activated by a certain combination of motions had used surprisingly little additional hardware. He'd taken the locking mechanisms from his security protocol and then he-

"Hello? Earth to Colin, come in Colin" He snapped out of the thought. Right, the other hand. Mouse Protector (and what a name that was) stood expectantly behind him. "Yes or no, Colin?"

"Mmm?" To be honest he had entirely forgotten what she'd asked. Vanessa was perky, constantly so, and had bound herself to him like a limpet the moment they'd met. Deceptively strong, she managed to lift and spin him in armour, and with the agility to match, she was prime material for an A-Lister hero. Why wasn't she one? Probably because her idea of a good costume involved duct taping a pair of mouse ears to a motorcycle helmet and hitting criminals with a whiffle ball bat.

"You're impossible. I'm asking you out, dunce!" she said. Oh.

"Oh."

"A~agh," she groaned, draping herself over him and messing up a difficult soldering in the process. "He~ro~, Colin's being mean to me~!"

The older tinker just laughed. Colin smiled. Hero had been angry of late. Something was bothering him and, unless Colin missed his guess, it had to do with the other Founders. He had seen it in the way they stood slightly apart or the way Hero and Eidolon glowered at each other when they thought no one was looking. One good thing about Vanessa was that with enough exposure, she could get anyone to laugh. That was probably why she'd started hanging around him, to be honest. For the contrast.

"Be nice to your teammates Colin," Hero said. "Can't afford to drive our fellow heroes away. Why they might even turn to villainy!"

"No! My sense of law and order is too strong! I'd rather die than be a villain!" Vanessa proclaimed, wiping a crocodile tear from her eye.

"You see, Colin! If you aren't nice to Mouse she'll die of loneliness! For shame, man, for shame!"

At some point, the two had gotten up and started acting out their parts, the mismatched pair hamming it up for the sake of the humour. Colin raised an eyebrow and got back to work.

"Well. That's all I got. Best of luck getting him out of that chair, Mouse, you're going to need it." Hero said. He winked in Colin's direction before settling over his own designs.

"Come on, Colin, it'll be fun! I promise I won't embarrass you."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep," he replied.

"Oh, such a blow he strikes! I feel as though I might faint!"

"Have a seat, then, don't push yourself."

She sighed, bringing her usually obnoxious voice back to normality.

"You win. Still, mister, I expect a real answer from you tonight!" With that, she made her exit, leaving Colin to watch as she went. The sounds calmed to the usual computerised sounds of the lab, and Colin picked up the soldering iron once again.

"You should go with her," Hero said suddenly. "On a date I mean. She really likes you, you know."

"Yeah," Colin said. He never bothered to hide his thoughts from Hero, the guy was smart enough to figure it out anyway. Being honest saved time. "I don't know if it'd last, though."

"It that it?" Colin nodded. Hero burst out laughing a moment later.

"What? Whats so funny?"

"It's just-"

"Hero!" Alexandria burst into the room. Colin could claim that this was normal, but it'd be a lie. Even now he was still starstruck by the first big heroes. He just wished he had more time to talk to them outside of big crises. "We have a problem. Suit up." Like that. Hero bookmarked his work and pulled his jacket on.

"We'll finish this later Colin, but trust me on this. You never know until you try!" and he ran out of the room.

He ran to his death. It was the last time Colin saw his mentor alive.









March 25th, 2011

Brockton Bay, NH



Colin made his move first. Rather, Dragon had waited so she could react effectively. She expected him to toss a distraction and charge like he would have done a month ago. He did neither. He ran.

The building next to him was a higher end boutique specialising in fine china. Colin burst through the display window without a care. The storefront led into a small courtyard through the back, a shared loading bay for various stores on the block. It had plenty of nooks and tight spaces and almost zero room for Dragon to manouever. She would follow him, of course. Dragon was nothing if not relentless.

Colin took a quick inventory, spotting the loading equipment and scattered refuse.

It could work.

Dragon arrived with a roar, the suit's turbine whining as she lowered herself into the small space. She let loose with containment foam, coating the courtyard in a foot of it. Colin crouched behind a hastily erected barricade, waiting for the foam to dry.

"Restricting the enemy's movement, Colin? It was either that or a distraction. You really only fight one of two ways," she said, setting down in the open. Vents on the suit's legs trickled the dissolving gas around her, preventing the foam from hampering Dragon's steps.

"It works, doesn't it?" he said. Just a little more time.

"Because you don't advertise yourself like other heroes. Modesty was one of the things I liked about you." the suit shifted, scanning under the eaves. "Once someone knows what to expect, your tricks don't work anymore."

Done. Colin stepped out, the semi-solid foam giving an extra bounce to his step as he rushed towards Dragon. She turned, head swinging on its serpentine neck. Colin flung his device as Dragon opened her mouth. The limpet mine attached to the inside and began to beep. Colin ran past her as she released foam in his tracks. He flung himself to the side as the timer ran out.

His EMP mine had been designed as a response to Squealer hijacking his bike, a quick and debilitating response to neutralise a device. Dragon, like most professional tinkers, was not stupid. She knew an electromagnetic pulse was the quickest way to disable her in a fight and had prepared accordingly. Colin had taken it a step further. The mine used a shaped charge to crack the outer, shielded layers, allowing the pulse to hit the unprotected insides.

With a whoosh and fizzle, the suit's draconic head collapsed, dragging on the ground as the suit turned.

"The great thing about us tinkers, Dragon, is that we can always make new tricks," he said. Colin wasn't about to think she would give up. Dragon was nothing if not relentless. No, he had accomplished his main goal, he'd taken away the most mobile of her foam sprayers. It all led back to what she'd said, Colin either distracted his opponent to take them out quickly, or he limited their options until he could out manoeuvre them.

Dragon was a powerhouse, without a doubt. Colin would even say she was probably better than him as a tinker. But she fought using remotely piloted suits, large vehicles more useful for fighting crowds or Endbringers as opposed to a single man in a tight space.

The Cawthorne was the perfect suit for her to bring to Brockton Bay, fast, light on its feet, and most importantly non-lethal. It could kill, sure, but the main focus was on subduing crowds. It was not meant to duel another tinker. Dragon knew that, and with his luck she was just stalling so Militia or Dauntless could get into position to take him down.

Like everything these days, it was a game for time.

He was done playing.









Danny's sentries saw the group before they got too close, and the dockworkers were ready for them when they did arrive. Four teens riding on the backs of monstrous, four legged beasts.

"That's the Undersiders," Tong said from beside him. "I'd heard they got put away, though, jailed with Lung at the Rig."

"So they broke out in the explosion, then," Danny said.

"Or caused it."

"Hmm."

The leader eased himself off his mount, taking care moving his torso. Probably a cracked rib or two. The blonde girl was unconscious on the beast's back, and the other two. A stocky girl and slim boy, they held themselves with no less care. All injured then.

"Hold it pal," Danny said. He projected his voice so everyone could hear him, not an unfamiliar skill to him. "We're not allowing the gangs in here. Turn around and go back, you may be capes but I doubt B-Listers like you could take us all on."

"Easy," the young man said. He'd raised his arms, but his face was hidden by a faceless helmet. It kinda looked like the once the PRT wore, to be honest, which made a lot of sense now that he thought about it. "We don't want trouble, just need to rest until Tattletale's awake again. I promise we won't cause you any trouble."

He seemed earnest, but Danny had lived in the bay far too long to be swayed by a simple plea. It might be callous, but he had bigger problems.

"Told you to get lost kid," he said. The villain seemed stunned, then defensive. Both parties taking a more aggressive stance.

"We really just need some time man, back off."

"Leave before we do to you what we did to the merchants. I've had enough cape gang bullsh-"

"Taylor!"

What? The blonde was up now, though she was unsteady and cradling her head.

"That's your daughter's name, right? Taylor Hebert?"

"If you did anything to her-"

"No no, god no. We're trying to get her free."

Again, what?

"Come closer. Explain. Tong, if they try anything, shoot 'em," he said after a moment.

"You got it, boss."

The Undersiders' leader looked at the blonde for a moment, a silent 'what the hell are you doing?' passing between the two. The villain smirked, then winced, and started to explain.







"So you guys, the Undersiders, worked for the guy that took Taylor?" Danny said. The villains were sitting next to a wall and tending to their wounds. The dockworkers had mostly dispersed by now, though Tong and Kurt stayed close by. "And you made a deal with Armsmaster to help him rescue her in return for your freedom?"

"That about sums it up," the blonde, Tattletale, said. "Though I should mention none of us is OK with what happened."

"Didn't stop it, did you?" They did seem repentant, he had to give them that, but a father's wrath is hard to beat down once it begins. "Forget it, am I supposed to believe that the leader of the local Protectorate has betrayed his own team in order to help a bunch of villains rescue a civilian?"

"No," Tattletale said quickly. "You're supposed to believe that Armsmaster betrayed his own team and is helping a bunch of villains rescue the cape whose been helping him this last month."

"Wait what?" "T, the rules!" Danny was flummoxed. Grue was yelling at Tattletale. Tong just rubbed his temple. Kurt...

"I believe it." The burly dockworker said. "Think about it Dan, that story is such bullshit that it has to be true. No one would gain anything from lying about it."

"Only in Brockton..." Tong lamented.

"OK," Danny said, turning to face the Undersiders. "So what now?"

"Armsmaster's fighting Dragon, so no guarantee he's gonna be able to help us," Grue said. "Tt knows where the boss's base is, and we have the device he made... not really sure what it does, though."

"Coil has mercenaries, quite a few of them, so fighting through them isn't going to be fun. He runs two timelines and picks the better, so we'll have to take him down quick and hard," Tattletale said.

Danny looked into the alley nearby, acknowledging once again what he'd tried to ignore for months. He looked back at himself and nodded.

"How many men does he have?"

"About forty, why?" the villain asked.

"Kurt, I'm borrowing your truck. I'm going to round up some help."









They'd fought through the courtyard, crashed through a boutique, and finally ended up back on the street. Their passage was marked by a not insignificant amount of foam and debris. Dragon swiped and clawed at him, trying to hold him in place long enough to foam him. Colin, for his part, wasn't so much fighting as he was running. A few quick applications of his plasma blade had managed to disable one of Dragon's wings, so he wasn't as concerned about the open space now.

Still.

Fighting Dragon was tough. It was odd in a way, he felt bad kicking Ethan in the balls, felt worse smashing Sam in the face with his grappler, but crippling Dragon's suit somehow felt like he was crippling the woman herself. He knew objectively that was wasn't hurting her physically, but it felt like he was. Maybe their closer relationship made it more personal somehow? He'd have to ask- have to find out later, do some research.

"Give up, Armsmaster," she said. "You have, at the most, ten minutes before the Protectorate gets here. That's if Velocity and Dauntless hang back with the PRT. I may not be able to subdue you myself, but I can make sure they catch up. Please, we only want to help you...Colin. This isn't you. It's just her using you."

"You think I went this far because I was mastered?" he yelled. "Fuck that! Dragon, you more than most know the kind of bullshit that happens because of our bureaucracy. I'm only doing what I feel is right."

"Weigh the costs Colin, anarchy isn't worth it. If the Protectorate had never formed the world would have collapsed decades ago," she said. The gleaming suit staring at him through numerous sensors. "And 'what's right'? Colin, you've been mastered how can you even know what's right? You used to trust me. Trust me now. You aren't thinking clearly, turn yourself in and the Protectorate can set things straight."

He tsked.

"No."









"Now I tell you again," Lung's baritone seemed to shake the troopers, who lowered their weapons and let him pass. He took a deep breath and looked around, finally returning his gaze to the guards when he finished. "Get."

They got.

"So what now? Back to base? I need some time before I can build enough bombs to make a difference. Though if we give one to Oni he's got like half the city covered right there," Bakuda said. Lung grunted. "And hey, I took a peek at Armsmaster's tech while I had the chance, The guy's an ass but his work is good. Not as good as mine, but it did give me an idea on micro-bombs. Oh and that Ward....what's her name.....Vintage? Whatever, her power would make a real fun one."

"Bakuda. Stop. Talking." Lung said. "Lee!"

"You can't expect him to come like a dog whenever yo- AGGH!" The mouthy woman fell over as Oni Lee came into being in front of her. He turned to Lung and stood still, simply waiting. If only everyone was this professional, or brain damaged, he didn't really care which. It would make things so much easier.

"Lee. Tell me everything." The demon-masked man nodded, and in a mechanical, stunted voice, he spoke.











September 20th, 2000

New York, New York



Hero died.

Colin didn't want to believe it at first, he raged at the idea that his mentor could be killed by some villain. The five days since Hero's demise had been filled with meetings, a funeral, and hopelessness. The Triumvirate all showed up, of course, both for the funeral and after it. Alexandria didn't show anything behind her mask-like face, but he knew she had to be hurting. He sure was.

Colin sat in the lab that had been his first real home. The lights were off, save for a single desk lamp illuminating the desk he was at. Aside from the psychiatrist checking on him every now and again, Colin had remained alone for most of the day. Vanessa had kept a respectful distance, as had Page- Chevalier now. Everyone seemed as lost as he was now that Hero was gone. As his apprentice of sorts, it fell on him to sort through the unfinished projects. Colin was given a month to compile a report for the board of directors along with dossiers on Hero's research for allied tinkers. It felt like disturbing the man's grave in a way, but Colin privately admitted that there was a lot he wanted to know.

If he had more knowledge, more time, more skill, then maybe Hero wouldn't have died. He would have been able to help instead of being benched like all the others. He let out a hollow chuckle, even now he was still useless.

"Not true!" His father would say.

"You just haven't hit your stride yet, it'll happen!" Hero would say.

Well, they would if they weren't dead. Now there was no one to voice an opposition.

The straw that broke the camel's back was Hero's notebook. It told him what Hero really thought of him. "...well meaning..." How he had to steer Colin away from his work out of fear for what he could become "...itself has no other use than the domination of another's mind, the device is dangerous..." It all boiled down to his own failure.

And from that came this moment. Colin took the bundle in one hand and stood. He grabbed a small metal trashcan and stuffed it full. Then he walked.

The cool night air was nice, a reprieve from the controlled atmosphere inside. No one aside from the occasional fliers really used the roof, so Colin felt he could have a decent amount of privacy for this.

Colin carefully put the can on the ground, wind rustling the papers.

Then he lit it on fire. His father's lighter dropped into the pile and Colin watched as the plans of his first invention went up in smoke. A small part of him felt betrayed that he'd never used the device, never even built it, but he quelled the thought easily. That was the kind of thinking Hero had been afraid of, the kind that would make him no better than the villains. Colin would live up to what his mentor saw in him, it was the only thing he could do to honour the man. Colin Wallis would be a hero. The best one he could be.

Papers burned. The pile had contained his work of course, but also a myriad of other distractions: Letters he had intended to send his mother one day, cards his father had sent while they had been busy with their own respective work, and a picture of Vanessa that she'd sneaked into his desk one day, red lipstick on the back alongside her number, scribbled in that annoyingly messy shorthand of hers.

It all burned.

He needed to be the best, and that only left time for one thing.

"Colin?" Speak of the devil. Vanessa stood just inside the door, her slight body blocking the stairs. "You alright? I saw you walking and I-"

"Sorry," he said.

"W-what? What are you sorry for?" Like most of the capes on site, she wore a small domino mask when not in her full costume or in a rec room, it was safer that way. It didn't hide the flash of pain at his next words.

"That you wasted your time. I'm not interested in a relationship, and even if I was you wouldn't be my first choice." He brushed past her while she stood shock still and tried not to think about her crying.

He partially succeeded.

 

[Victorian_Irish]

Crystal was in shock.

When she finally returned to the Dallon's, she expected the others would be concerned, even angry. She thought that aunt Carol would yell at her, that Victoria would play toady to her mother. She didn't expect her own mom to burst out crying at the sight of her.

"W-What?" she mumbled.

"I said you were in a hell of a lot of trouble young lady! Why didn't you answer your phone? You know what's going on down there!" Lady Photon was bawling, her words only barely audible through her sobs, Crystal had only seen her like this once, when she was very young. The day after Fleur died. On impulse, her own eyes began to water, and she tried to explain herself.

"I was checking on some holdouts, workers that didn't- that didn't want to leave their homes behind."

"Do you know what's happened? Do you? The Rig exploded, The ABB is back to full strength, and Armsmaster of all people has fallen victim to some master effect and turned on his own team. For god's sake, Crystal, Dragon was fighting him in the street! Do you even know how worried I was?"

"Mom....I'm sorry....I didn't mean to," Crystal said, mumbling through her words. they stood there, holding onto one another to stay standing, it was

"Yes, yes, we know. Sarah, she's sorry. You're both angry and sad. Can we please figure out what the hell we're doing?" Good old aunt Carol. She sounded like a bitch, but honestly she just didn't want to see her sister in pain. Crystal could relate. Crying mom was something to be avoided.

"Fu-fudge, I'm sorry sweety, I just couldn't stop imagining the worst and it just... Right, so the facts then. The Protectorate is currently dealing with an emergency situation on the rig. Armsmaster is hostile. Lung and the new tinker are free again. The Empire has already taken control of the boardwalk. And the Merchants are screwing with everyone. Thoughts?" her mom dadded Crystal's cheeks as she talked, ignoring her own running makeup and tear tracks as she tended to her daughter's.

"Can we move cities?" Eric asked. He probably thought his joke was less funny once they all scowled at him.

"If the Protectorate can't be trusted then we need to reach out. What about Faultline?" Her father said.

"Are we really willing to work with villains? I don't think so."

"Oh, give it a rest, Carol, they aren't Marquis. They're mercenaries. Sure they try not to do jobs in-house, so to speak, but this is a special circumstance. They're already protecting the Palanquin. Why not contract them to protect the area around it as well? It cuts into ABB territory and frees up enough of our effort to have someone strafing the boardwalk."

"The Protectorate wants us to consolidate power around the downtown core. If we don't then the Wards will be the primary defenders there, and they're already playing a heavier role than they should be."

Crystal sighed, this is why she hated family meetings. They can never agree on things, business or everyday life, and inevitably someone will call someone else a cow, or paranoid, or Scion knows how many other names they'd come up with over the years. Then they'd argue about that and in the end...they'd be useless.

Fuck that.

Crystal placed herself in the middle of the room and spoke her mind for once.

Her family was stunned, her mother was proud by the time she stopped talking, and in the littlest of ways, Crystal felt more at home being called 'hero'. Taylor was a victim of circumstance, gone missing while the Bay tore itself apart. But lloking at her family now? She beleived they could, would, make a difference.

"Let's go be heroes," she said. As one, New Wave took flight.







"So that is your field report, yes? You came upon a group of Empire, 'grenaded the fuck out of them', and did basically the same to every group you saw afterwards?"

Lee nodded.

"Good."

"Are we trying for a kill order? Like how many bodies are we talking, here? Ten, fifty? Fuck, this whole city has gone to shit. I don't want to get caged over this crap." Ah Bakuda. She still hadn't grasped the significance of the situation.

"I will explain, once, so listen and listen well. The Protectorate is broken. Their leader a traitor, their forces split between repairing their base and protecting the civilians. Kaiser is distracted, he is a planner not a man of action. I will keep his attention on me. You two will be in charge of our true goal," Lung said.

"We have a true goal? Seriously? I thought our goal was 'find the girl' and 'don't get captured' we're batting oh-for-two here, boss," Bakuda said. She was probably still shaky from her imprisonment, not to mention his own lesson to her. He just stared until she shut up. No sense wasting breath.

"You and Lee will take advantage of the reduced presence of police and capes. You will target the banks and strip them of everything. I give you free reign on resources and manpower. I require you do everything possible to make your imparct unfelt."

"So hit 'em quick and don't make a sound?"

"Yes," Lee said. Probably just hit his quota for the week, vocabulary-wise. Efficient, he was, bright? not so much.

"They do not know our plans, and so we will fall as a thunderbolt upon them," Lung said. "Now go, I will distract them."

You do not win a war by fighting, you win first and then make it known. Lung grinned. This city would be his.











Colin sucked in a breath as he rolled onto his back. The armour's hypodermic suite had already injected a concoction of painkillers and anti-inflammatories. He counted four broken ribs to add to his broken arm. Not ideal, but doable, he would have to rely more on the combat functions of the suit to keep him in motion, the automatic motions would just hurt.

A lot.

Thankfully, if he could really think of it that way, Dragon was no better off. In addition to her no longer functional head, the suit's wings and one foreleg had been severed. Heat distribution or no, plasma beats metal. He'd forced her into more aggressive actions, however, and that in turn led to him eating pavement on the far side of the street.

"Give up, please," she said. The words no longer sounded right, Colin was fairly sure he'd clipped a speaker. Dragon's voice came out tinny and crackling, like an old gramophone someone had smacked with a hammer. "I don't want to keep doing this to you."

"Don't or can't. Dragon?" he asked, forcing out the words in small spurts to avoid the worst of the pain.

"Don't. Colin I know you're in worse shape than my suit. Your current injuries will take over a month to heal. Do you really think you can evade me that long in your state? Even if you destroy this suit, I'll just send another."

She was technically correct on that, but she hadn't picked up on his plan yet.

"Dragon, you can send as many suits as you like. I'll still beat them." Her suit stood still, but if the head had still been intact Colin imagined it would be cocked to the side in confusion. "Because I believe in what I'm doing."

"I am sorry, Colin, you'll thank me after this is over." Dragon said, leaping quite literally into action. Even with three points of contact, the Cawthorne was sturdy. It's booming steps quickened in cadence as Dragon barreled towards him. She leapt on the last bound, on target straight for him. Her foam sprayers were gone, her bola launchers had missed, and now her only option was a physical pin. Colin gave a rueful smirk as Dragon took away her one advantage. As the suit's hind legs left ground, he threw the bomb. As she reached the peak of her arc, he hit the detonator and rolled out of the way.

They had both exhausted their tricks, used each and every device they'd crafted over their long careers. But Colin still had one ace. He had stolen a trick off of Bakuda.

The bomb detonated at the suit's hips. The effect was as devastating as it was concerning. The suit's proportions warped in an instant. As the shin of one leg expanded, the other shrank, the joints at the knee and hip twisted, and part of the suit's torso bent into a double helix as it ripped apart in the middle.

Looks like he wasn't the only one studying the effects of cape powers.

Sparks shot from Dragon's suit as it grew, shrank, twisted, and tore itself into unnatural shapes. Colin winced, it was hard seeing something Dragon had worked on be destroyed so thoroughtly.

"C-c-c-ool-ocl-in," The speakers sputtered, warping Dragon's panicked, but normal tone into nightmarish blends of screeching and bass. Even then, he understood what she meant to say. Why, Colin, why?

"No," he said as he stood, resting his weight on his halberd. He paused, and with each step he took in a sharp breath. He walked over to the twisted wreck, the suit still shooting sparks like arterial spray and twitching like a dying spider.

"Co-ILIN?" Dragon kept repeating.

"I won't thank you for making me destroy you. I'm sorry," he said. He took the shaft in both hands, poised his weapon over his head...

And slew a dragon.

Then there was only one thing left for him to do. He picked up his gear and started walking.









"Dan."

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"Why the hell is my truck full of rats?" The two men stood by the red pickup, the back packed full of an unnaturally still mass of flesh and fur, hundreds of beady eyes staring at them and blinking in unison.

"Well about that...." Danny said as he scratched his head. "I have powers."

"I can see that, Danny. Thank you. Thank you sooo much for this."

"It's really not as bad as you think, man."

"It's fucking rats! Hundreds of rats!"

"I made sure they didn't shit everywhere."

"Well thank god for that! I'll have to second guess every nook and cranny in my truck, but at least I won't have to clean up after them!"

"Guys?"

"What?!" "Tong?"

"Can we move on? We're getting tired of the arguing, man," the former gangster said. Grue shrugged from beside the older man, but didn't disagree.

"Sorry."

"So, moving on." Tattletale said. "His base is here, under the parking lot on Third and Perry."

The rest of the Undersiders were nearby, though Hellhound ("Bitch" she had corrected with a snarl) was further away, tending to her dogs. Grue, Tattletale, Danny, and Kurt were standing next to the truck, a roadmap unfurled over the hood. Most of the Dockworkers had moved away or gone back inside by this point, leaving the odd group to plan in peace.

"I can get us in, but aside from Coil's office I have no idea what the layout is like," she said.

"Let me worry about that," Danny said. "These little guys are great for looking around."

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Regent asked. "No offence, but you're not a cape. Have you even used your power in a fight? It'd be kinda shitty to rescue this chick but get her dad killed in the process."

"I can hang back if you don't want me in the way, I have range, but I am coming with you. No debate."

"Fine," Grue said. "But I call the shots once we're there. My team, my rules."

"Deal."

"And what about me?" Tong said.

"What about you," Regent chirped. "Oh! You can get us snacks."

"Fuck you. Boss, I'm a fighter. I wanna come."

"I'd let you, Tong, but We need more protection with the union. With me gone Kurt will be running things here. He can fight, but not like you can. Give him a hand, tell him what to expect, and lead the others when the bullets fly and the knives come out. That's the best thing you can do right now."

"OK," he said, reluctantly backing down. The others went back to staring at the map.

"So the plan is to use rats for recon, and then move accordingly?" Danny asked.

"Pretty much," Tattletale replied. Grue put a hand over his face in a sign of exasperation. Once again, things had gotten needlessly complicated.

"Tt, that is the worst plan ever. Of all time," Regent said. "That's not a plan, thats like saying the words 'Chapter one' is a whole book."

"He's right," A gritty voice said. "It's pretty. Bad. Needs work."

"Holy shit! That's Armsmaster? What the fuck happened to him?" Regent asked.

"Dragon," the man in question replied. He left it at that.

"Holy crap, they weren't lying," Tong said.

"No," Armsmaster said, pausing periodically. "The Undersiders are villains, and under different circumstances, this would be a different conversation, but as it stands our goals align. Mr Hebert, I presume?"

"Uh, yes?" Danny said. No one could blame him for being inarticulate, right?

Honestly, even for Brockton Bay, this situation was kinda fucked up.









"Again!" Coil shouted. The huddled figure of the young Ms Alcott repeated the numbers in hissing tones, the headaches growing massive by this point. No matter his tactics, no matter what he did, the numbers didn't change. Coil died. He snarled, reigning in the impulse to hurt someone, and cut the timeline. Coil ran a hand over his head, the motion calming even though his hair remained untouched. Then he went for his second visit. The hallways were quiet, the mercenaries already in their places, carefully considered starting positions that allowed them to move into one of a dozen contingency plans, and with Mr Pitter taking care of Dinah he finally had time to think.

He didn't like his conclusions.

Taylor Hebert, Script, had manipulated Armsmaster and the Undersiders into working together to bring about his downfall. She'd done it under his very nose, and worst of all he'd fallen into her trap. She'd written him and the extent of her control was unknown.

He let himself in, the guard stationed inside giving him a professional nod without taking his eyes off the girl. Script herself, when had he started calling her by her cape name?, was seated much too calmly.

"Your sidearm, Hansson," he said with his hand outstretched. The man complied, thinking nothing of handing his employer a 9mm pistol. Unfortunately for him, this was a private conversation.

Coil split the timeline.

He shot Hansson in the head, the bulky man falling like a sack of potatoes.

"What did you do to me?" he yelled. "You made Armsmaster, oh sorry 'Colin', go against everything he stood for, you made my Tattletale turn on me. And no matter what I ask my pet I can't find a way out of this. Coil Died, you remember? Undo it!"

"I can't," she said. The small, paper-thin smirk on her face tempted him, but he kept his trigger finger firmly outside the guard.

"Why not?"

"Because it's simple. You're thinking too hard. Everyone dies, Coil. Or rather, I should say 'everything', Empires, ideas, people, things all die eventually. Think about it."

"What the fuck does that even mean!? Stop fucking around and answer me!"

"Coil Died. I can't say something unless it's true."

He couldn't take it anymore. He shot her.

And shot her.

And shot her.

Click, click, click.

He pointed the gun at the girl. Her eyes wide, her confidence gone.

"How do I fix this?" he asked, pulling on his mask with one hand as he tried to mop up the sweat underneath.

"You don't," she said. Her eyes tracked the pistol, and he didn't miss her flinches every time he aimed at her. At least she respected power.

"Find a way, or I swear to you your 'rescuers' will only find a corpse."

He left the room.









In every fall there is a turning point. A sounds that starts an avalanche, or the first grain of sand in the hourglass.

In this case, it was rats.

They moved swiftly and without care for attention, the carpet of tiny bodies ran along the road and in the sewers and most importantly, in the back of a pickup truck. Kurt drove, Danny sitting shotgun as he turned his attention to the swarm. Armsmaster sat in the back, too tired to care if he was sitting on cushions or something else. The Undersiders had their own transportation of course, and the monstrous dogs made an odd escort for the normal vehicle.

"Found it, the south side. Broken elevator," Danny said.

"Not that broken, I guess," Kurt said as he swung the wheel around. Armsmaster peered in from the back, adding "You should recon now, by the time we get there we should have a decent layout of the entrance.

"OK," Danny said. He began to search around the area, his rodent scouts burrowing into every nook, crack, cranny, and vent they could. Eventually, he found something, a wire net covering part of a vent, obviously meant as a precaution against just this very thing, but It was nothing compared to the security elsewhere. "A small thermal exhaust port, right below the main port," he muttered. When else was the quote going to be this relevant?

The rats paired off, grabbing hold of the nails with mouths and hands, working together to get a good grip. They went wild, shaking left and right, pulling, pushing, lifting the nails in the loosely made holes. "Should have used screws," he said as the screen came off. His little pathfinders slid down the chute with reckless abandon, skittering through the metal cave as they rolled and tumbled from level to level.

They hit the jackpot, Danny could smell people through the creatures' noses. They spread out, separating at each junction, and he left a rat at each grate or vent to watch the halls. Funnily enough, it didn't take long. As Kurt parked the truck, he finished his scouting.

"Yeah, about forty mercs seems right, though some are out right now. The elevator's clear, it's more of a side entrance anyway. Let's see...They aren't moving around much, and the whole place is uniform and unmarked. Kind of a maze."

"Thankfully we have good eyes," Grues said. "So, what'll you go by? Over comms I mean."

"Oh! Radada," Regent said. "hehe, get it?" Danny did his best to ignore the kid, most of the others did that, so it seemed like the best option.

"Call me Foreman," he said. "For now at least, I don't plan on making a career out of this."

For some reason, Tattletale let out a snerk at that.

"Alright then, Foreman, You're our eyes," Armsmaster said. He turned to face the group and continued. "Remember, check your corners and clear. I'll advance first. If we run into trouble..."

"I smoke it up," Grue said, speaking from rote.

"And misdirection is my name!" Regent said. "Except not. Anybody coming through the smoke is suddenly shooting themselves in the dick, got it."

"I'm responsible for internal security and passcodes," Tattletale said.

"Hurting assholes," Bitch said, elegantly.

"And I'll be back here eating the doughnuts," Kurt said, getting a chuckle or two. "Your ride'll be ready if we have to make a quick escape, don't worry."

"All set then. Remember, they're set and ready for trouble. We do this by the numbers, as a team, and we all make it out of here.

"And before I forget, Foreman, cover your face."

"Why? They'll know who I am."

"It's the spirit of the thing, Mr Cape-for-a-day," Tattletale said.

Danny grabbed a handkerchief out of one pocket, the plain blue cotton felt silly as he tied it over his mouth and nose.

"Good god I look like a merchant," he said. They all laughed at that. It was nervous and shaky but sorely needed. The next part would be hard, and the possibility of death, high.
You take what joy you can.

 

[Victorian_Irish]

Senegal hated rats.

He had a pretty high tolerance for shit, especially if his choice of current employer was taken into the equation, but something about the tiny furry freaks just got to him. He hated them in France, he hated them in the Congo, and by god he hated them in Coil's underground base. Normally he wouldn't care much, just move to the other side of a room or shoo it away...

This was beyond shooing.

The first inkling Senegal had of the abnormality of the situation was when the rats started gathering. First by ones, then by twos, and before he knew it the hall was full of them. All staring straight at him.

Senegal gripped his gun a little tighter, much to the amusement of his men. Tango had already trotted off to find a big stick of bear spray, something to get the hall clear. Yorkshire, Wilhelm, and Franks snickered at Senegal's panicked expression. He didn't cuss at them, didn't dare take his eyes off the little monsters. One of them winked at him.

Hell no.

Senegal opened fire, the roaring thump of his .45 echoing off the halls, his men instinctively sought cover and hid close to the ground.

Bam

Bam

Bam

Squeak

Squeak

Squeak

Each bullet hit a rat, even with his hurried stance and lack of aim, not even the recoil stopped his lead messengers from hitting their mark. There was always another, and then another, an overwhelming tide popping out from the vents. Even with the rats dying by the score, they did nothing. Unnaturally still they gazed at him, through him, and found him wanting.

Then they laughed.

It was an ear-wrenching sound, the little throats forcing out human words in a falsetto voice.

"Behi~nd you!" they chanted, ten or so even pointing with a foreleg.

It was stupid.

He was a trained mercenary, not a kid on the school ground.

He looked behind him, and then he shrieked.

His men had been outflanked, the furry commandos outlining them as they lay on the ground or crouched behind cover. The three men had a moment of bewilderment before they realised it themselves.

Yorkshire dropped his gun to grab and fling the rats from his body as he fled down the hall. Franks followed Senegal's lead, gaining himself some distance before he opened fire on them. And Wilhelm?

Wilhelm screamed.

It was straight out of a nightmare, the beasts pouring from the walls as Franks kept muttering "Game over, man!" over and over. Senegal took a look at the situation and calmly made a decision.

"Fuck this."

Tapping Franks twice on the shoulder, Senegal began to back up. Franks followed suit and together they covered their retreat. With practised ease they maintained their fire discipline, waiting for one man to empty their gun before opening up themselves. The two mercenaries made their way to the escape elevator, one of six emergency exits from the base, and activated it.

The little bastards kept coming, and Senegal eventually resorted to kicking the things when they got too close. The whine of the elevator became the backdrop to his continuing nightmare, and he cursed every second it took to get to him.

From down the hall, Wilhelm screamed one last time.

The elevator doors opened with a whir and a 'ding', and Senegal felt relief.

"Boo," came a voice from behind him. Senegal turned and went to aim, but the figure moved first and jabbed him with some kind of rod. Electricity coursed through him and he thrashed. Franks got quickly pinned by a man in heavy armour. Even with all the damage, it was easy to pick out Armsmaster. Had the protectorate found them? Lying on the ground, Senegal turned to look at his attacker. The renaissance look of Regent stared back at him and gleefully jabbed him again.

Senegal passed out.







"Oh man, the look on his face!" Regent said. The boy had taken the older one, while Colin himself had subdued the younger target. Grue had been ready to step in, but let the more experienced cape go first. A team-player, he would have done well in the Wards. Shame. The thought caused him minor distress, but he ignored it. He'd worked hard for this moment, he'd sacrificed a lot. He wasn't going to screw it up. As if to spite him, the lights chose that moment to go out. Red light emanated from panels set on the floor and walls, the pale light was just bright enough to see by. Colin checked the elevator. Dead. He sighed, of course. It was going too well. He idly checked his calendar. It wasn't Tuesday. Felt like it, though.

"Foreman?" he asked. The older man knew what he meant without explanation, something that was unexpected for a rookie but not unappreciated.

"Two more in the hallway, distracted, and one in a storeroom. He's dug himself in."

"Let me know which one and I'll fuse the door shut. Be advised, the way out is blocked until we can get the power back on."

The others nodded their understanding, Hellhound opting to glare, and soon the group moved into formation, Grue and Colin in the front with Hellhound (what kind of a name is 'Bitch' anyway?), while Regent and Tattletale stood behind them. Mr He- Foreman was in the very back, directing his swarm and feeding them intel.

Not bad for a pick-up team.

Regent nudged the guns and gave his leader a questioning stare. Once he had the thumbs-up he snagged a pistol, throwing the extra to Tattletale. The lack of gun safety grated on him, but there wasn't much to be done at the moment.

Foreman nodded, and they began to move. The walls were uniform, and the construction reminded Colin of the Endbringer shelters. If it was similar, then an outward attack without this kind of insider knowledge would have proved very difficult.

Hellhound's dogs had their ears pricked, searching for mercenaries by sound and scent. Tattletale gripped the gun in a practised manner, not surprising given her powers. Grue looked at Colin and waited. Colin nodded.









Thomas Calvert was not having a good day. If you wanted to be technical, none of him was. No matter what he did, something went wrong. Senegal's team was quickly taken out of the fight, and though more men were able to take up the slack, Thomas wasn't happy about the gaps in his defences. Armsmaster was a highly skilled combatant, and his men had begun resorting to explosives to keep the hero at bay. As for the others... Most villains didn't think much of the Undersiders, but Thomas wasn't the type to waste time and money. He knew they could be effective. He'd planned for the team to hold a significant portion of the city when the time came. Each would have their own methods of course, but all could do it once they put their minds to it.

He grimaced, the vindication of his being right about them wasn't helping matters. The last infiltrator was a bit of a surprise. Daniel Hebert hadn't been any problem when his men took Taylor, although he had seen through the first layer of disguise. Thomas hadn't expected that the man would trigger from the experience. Is power became obvious once Thomas looked through the camera feeds.

Rats.

He sighed, it really just went to show that you can't plan for every eventuality. He could make it more difficult, though. Thomas reached for the phone on his desk. He'd intended this for Ms Meinhardt of the travellers, a last-ditch option. It would work just as well here.

"Mr Pitter, tell Mr Davids to enact emergency protocol 38...Yes, 38... Thank you, Mr Pitter."

Thomas Calvert hung up the phone and opened the third drawer of his desk. He took a moment to check the pistol, ensuring it was loaded and it working order. As much as he despised the PRT, some habits are worth keeping. Maintenance was one of them.

The second item was larger and more vital to his own survival. He pulled the gas mask over his face and checked the seal.

He chuckled. Now he would see if they can out manoeuvre the air.











"Something's wrong," Foreman said.

"What?" Colin asked.

"The vents are closing, I'm losing a lot of my vision here." Colin nodded. Coil had obviously figured out the trick, not surprising given their entrance. Still, he'd hoped to get further in before the advantage was gone.

"Alright, stay clear of firing lines, Foreman. Don't be afraid of getting out of the fight, we can handle it," he said. Foreman nodded and moved to the back. "Hellhound, your dogs are our eyes and ears now."

"Bitch," she corrected with a snarl. She shoved past him to the front and made a few sharp commands. The three dogs fanned out, sniffing and listening for anyone that might come near. They began proceeding again, slower this time. Grue and Regent were proving adept at clearing rooms, even if the master's preferred method was sticking his sceptre into Grue's darkness and waving it around until he hit something.

Effective, for all its stupidity.

Tattletale directed them towards the stairs, working from Foreman's earlier layout of the base and her own intuition. Colin pursed his lips, the resistance was dying fast. Either the mercenaries weren't very loyal, or something was up. He would bet on the latter.

"Eyes," he kept reminding the others. Stay vigilant, stay cautious, stay alive.

The base had elevators to the lower level, of course, but cutting the main power had been one of the first things Coil's men had done. The emergency lights gave off just light to function, and secondary power had obviously run some of the systems like air circulation, but the gist of it was that they would have to do this manually.

The bad feeling became clear as Tattletale hissed a series of expletives. The staircase's base was covered in a foot of green-yellow gas. It swirled lazily above the ground in an effect not unlike a witch's cauldron.

And it was rising. Colin quickly ruled out anything like Fog's power. This was purely technological. Logically there would be a delivery system on the lower level. The mercenaries would have retreated to put on chemical warfare gear, planning to wait them out. The elevators were shut down, including the one they entered by. Colin could cut through the door, and they might escape, but Colin remembered the extra training he took with the PRT agents. A rope climb in a gym was bad enough, a cable climb in a secret base with who knows how far to fall? He wouldn't want to try it himself, and judging by their looks, the others would probably fail and fall. Maybe not Grue, but then Colin hadn't seen the boy do anything impressively athletic.

"Shit fuck, gas? Soo not fair," Regent complained. Colin shook his head.

"Knockout gas," Tattletale said.

"There's no such thing," Colin said. Tattletale gave him a hard stare and continued.

"It's a gas that knocks you out. Knockout gas. Not the best stuff for you to be breathing in any case." Colin sighed, the girl didn't like not knowing things. Sure, he could deal with it as one of her hang ups. But things like this? Way to state the obvious.

"Let me guess... a derivative of fentanyl? High chance of complications without treatment? Either that or it's tinker-made, and I'm fairly sure I would have heard about it if something like this was developed."

"Point is, we go in there and we die. Right after we pass out. Any other plans, genius?" Tattletale asked. Colin sealed his helmet.

"Yes. I go on alone while you find an emergency station, it should have supplies for this kind of thing. Catch up when you can," he said. The villainess tutted but gave him a quick nod before stomping off down the hall. Regent followed, snickering as she went.

"I'm going to be smoothing ruffled feathers after this, you know?" Grue said. Colin shrugged, letting the villain walk after the rest of his team. Hellhound scowled at him.

"What about my dogs?" she demanded

"Keep them clear. No need to risk their health." The girl nodded and scooped up two of her companions, the rest trailing after her as she walked away. Foreman looked like he wanted to say things, a lot of things, but he bit his lip and groaned. It was a sad, pathetic sound. One that Colin never liked to hear. Defeat.

"Bring her back safe," Hebert said finally.

"Yeah," Colin replied. He gave the man a pat on the shoulder and started down the stairs. Maybe he could have said more. Maybe he could have given the man some hope or something to take his mind off of things. Colin was never really good at that. But fighting? That he could do.













A secret base? Rescue the princess? When the hell did his life become some kind of spy novel? Colin snorted, the sound muffled by his filtered mask, and made sure his weapon was ready. He was running on empty, wounded and without backup. And in the oddest way, it felt right. Colin Wallis was a hero. Not just as a title or a job, but in that visceral way you only saw in books and movies. He was a hero, he would fear nothing, stop at nothing, and do what he set out to do.

Bruce Willis eat your heart out.

Colin began to run.

Step, step, step. Each footfall was a thunderous sound in the dark and silent hallway. With a flick of his eye, he triggered his pharmacopoeia unit, readying a shot of adrenaline. He dismissed the safety warning and set a five-count, he'd reach the obvious choke point about the same time. He flicked on his plasma blade, the snap-hiss an alto that drowned out the bass of his sprint.

5

4

3

2

1

Colin felt the jolt, the rush of chemicals as the adrenaline crashed into his system. His wounds seared for a split second before fading into obscurity. He dashed into the open room and flung himself to the ground. Gunfire erupted all around him.

Colin swept his halberd in a wide arc, barely above the ground. It caught a few times. He knew that without his air filter, he'd be breathing in the sickly scent of burnt pork. He set his teeth and swung again. Higher this time. By now he'd heard four distinct thumps, the cries of pain heralding the injured bodies. /the shock of pain bought him time, but not much. Colin could see one of the men already reaching for his weapon. A quick jab with the butt of the halberd squashed that notion.

It also left him open. A squat man he hadn't hit with his leg swipes rushed him from behind. The attempt at a tackle would have been a good idea if not for Colin's armour. He rocked, but didn't fall and circled the man's neck with one arm. With whining servos, he flung the mercenary over his shoulder slamming him to the ground. He'd barely noticed the bullets hit him in the chaos. A quick check ensured he wasn't bleeding. Good enough.

With the tight lines of sight and soon to be melee, most mercs were abandoning their guns for something more practical. Heavy daggers and chains made appearances alongside actual war picks. The largest man still standing grabbed a construction hammer off a fallen comrade. They, unlike most, actually knew how to disable a man in armour. Most of humanity forgot that lesson after the gun was invented.

He took a look around the room. Five vs. one, not great for him. Halberd isn't great in close range, neither is a chain, but hey, nobody's perfect.

"Huey," he said, pointing at the squat man.

"Dewey." The large man with the hammer.

"Louie." To the man with the war pick.

Colin looked at the other two, cocked his head and said "You guys got the short stick. Ass, and Hole."

They were less than amused. He deactivated his plasma blade and took the haft in a staff stance. A few crazy spins and kicks were enough to keep them off of him for a moment, but eventually, Hole got lucky. His chain looped around Colin's staff and he tried to pull it out of his grasp.

Colin let him. He threw the staff at the man, almost hitting Louie and Ass with the pole as it flew. While they were distracted by the weapon, Colin reached around Dewie's vest and pulled something out.

He pulled the pin, Covered his eyes, and whistled as loud as he could.

They looked.

Blinded by the light.

The bang part of the flash-bang probably didn't help them, it had nearly deafened Colin even with his helmet protecting him, but the five men were worse off by far. They stumbled around, Dewie even smacked Huey in the leg with his hammer as he blindly tried to hit Colin. Wasting no time, Colin just took the gas masks off of them and shoved the men to the ground.

"Nap time," he said. He picked up his halberd and rooted around for more flash-bangs from the fallen mercs. He pocketed two, keeping the third one ready in his hand. If Mr Hebert was right in his numbers, there would be another nine or so guys down here. There was a very slim chance they didn't hear this commotion.

Colin pulled the pin and dropped the flash-bang into the next room. Was it cheap? Yes, they wouldn't stand a chance. Was he going to exploit the hell out of it? Yes, yes he was.











"The blue wire, not the green one!"

"Well excu~use me, Princess! Some of us aren't bomb tinkers!"

"Dude! Wrong series!"

Bakuda was seriously reconsidering her hiring choices here. Uber and Leet had a pretty abysmal reputation in terms of effectiveness, but this had been the payment they asked for. Leet made her a device he called a 'Ghost drive'. The way it was programmed, it would copy the digital records stored int the bank's servers and then release a hunter-killer program that would search for mentions of the stolen data and destroy it.

All they asked for in return was some prime time. They wanted to come along and film their stupid show. At least, this time, they were dressed somewhat appropriately. The black pants and turtlenecks looked like old special forces issue, with reinforced padding around the elbows and knees. They carried tranquillizers made to look like silenced MP-4 submachine guns. They covered their faces with goggles with three green lenses and had an array of gizmos attached to their persons. It was familiar, some Aleph remake of an old Bet game. Something she might have played...Nah.

Nerds.

"Don't know, don't care, don't screw this up," she said.

"Gotcha, ma'am," Uber said over Leet's nodding head. Bakuda huffed and set her own charge. Blowing up a vault? Child's play. Blowing up a vault while leaving the insides intact? You need a professional.

She grinned.

"Just stay cool boys, remember that we're professionals here," she said.

Two rent-a-cops and one vault door between her and the biggest payday ever? Easy. Lee had already taken care of the guards, the vault? Bakuda stepped back and clicked her toes together. The boom was oh so satisfying.

"OK, nerd squad-"

"Third Eschelo-"

"Whatever. Hit the computers, get me what I want. In the meantime, Lee and I have some real estate to manage," she said.

Lung was in for a big surprise. She hoped he'd be happy, another moment like the one on the rig would be...shit, nothing fancy, just plain bad for her. Bakuda rubbed her neck absently. Lee's demon face wasn't helping matters.

"You take A-S, I'll take the rest," she said.

Oni Lee stared at her.

"Okay fine. I'll take A-S and you take the rest."

Oni Lee nodded.

"Slacker," she said.

Oni Lee shrugged.

Why did she even bother? Bakuda sighed and started collecting papers. This wasn't the kind of Banking her mother wanted her to do, but hey, who ever lived up to expectations? Bakuda bit her lip. Nope, still sore about that.

Okay....Olivia Abrams, what deeds do you have?













And Dewie number three hit the ground.

Colin felt the twinges that always came after a fight, the shakes that came after the adrenaline left. And most of all, the aches he'd suppressed too long. Still, he'd done it. The mercs were down for the count. The Undersiders would be along any minute to sort it out from here. He could just....rest, right? Yeah, he'd earned it... earned it...

No.

That was the point of it all, right? He hadn't earned it.

'The people he protected didn't see him as a hero, they saw him as a failure.'

He had walked back alone, leaving Hannah in her jeep, and seen just how much they'd earned the title of hero. He'd gone through all of this to prove he could be a true hero, not just a government lackey with shiny clothes. Hero had feared his drive, his single-minded focus. There had been plenty of other tinkers Hero could have trained. One more thing Colin hadn't deserved. He realised now that he'd spent his whole life coasting by on things he'd been given. An apprenticeship, a title, a position.

Given, not earned.

Colin hauled himself to his feet, gripped his halberd tightly, and walked down the hall. A single, thin man stood outside the door, his suit rumpled and face hidden underneath his gas mask. The man held a small calibre pistol in a wildly shaking hand. He was screaming something. Stop, I'll shoot, don't come any closer. Something like that. It was getting hard for him to hear anything over the thumping of his blood through his ears. Colin kept walking. The man sputtered and tried to shoot, finding he couldn't. Colin lifted him up, pinning the man against the wall, and gripped tighter and tighter until the man dropped his gun, the safety still on.

"How many men are behind you?" Colin asked.

"wa-w-wa- one," he said.

"One?"

"Just the boss...just Coil," he said.

"And the kidnapped girls?"

"With him, in there. They're safe, I swear to god," the man blubbered.

Colin wanted to yell at the man, but time was more important. He pulled up the man's mask and socked him twice across the jaw. He didn't get up when he fell.

Colin pushed open the door.

"Hello. Coil," he said. The villain stood behind a nice desk in a tastefully decorated room. Honestly, Colin could see much of the same furniture in Director Piggot's office without much trouble. She would care less for the opulence, but most of it was practical enough.

"Armsmaster," The man said. He was thin, covered in a black bodysuit, and had doffed his costume mask for a gas one. The image of a white snake stood out in contrast down his body, but what really drew Colin's eye was the pistol in his hand. USP .45, favoured by military and PRT alike.

It was pointed right at the head of a hostage. He guessed she would stand tall for her age, were she standing, but e en under her own respirator the hair was unmistakable. Long, brown, and curly. It matched Taylor Hebert's missing person photo to a tee.

"Or is it 'Traitor, now?" Coil asked. "I get confused easily when your team bandies about so many names."

Colin growled and took a step forward. Coil flicked off the safety of his gun.

"Ahh, no. You stay right where you are. I've been thinking a lot recently, not much else to do while you are under siege, and I came to an understanding. This is out of character for you, Armsmaster. Have you never thought you might be under a master effect? I certainly think so. The real you wouldn't be so foolish as to put himself in this kind of situation. It's regrettable, but I have to impose a choice. You either give up now, or the girl dies."

Ms Hebert was surprisingly calm for the situation.

"You kill her, I kill you," he said.

"You wouldn't, hero."

"You're thinking too highly of me. I've been shot at, stomped, shot down, thrown, and punched today. My ribs are killing me and frankly, I'm almost out of tricks. It'd be easier to get rid of you permanently," Colin said.

Coil looked at him, looked at the girl, and pointed the gun at Colin.

"Goodbye, Colin," Coil said. "It didn't have to come to thi- ARGGH!"

Coil almost dropped the gun in shock. Ms Hebert had gotten a hold of something sharp and jabbed it into Coil's leg. Colin didn't waste the opportunity. He dashed forward, clocking Coil across the face, sending his gas mask flying, and moved to pin him. Hebert grabbed the gun.

"No more, Coil," she said. "No guns in my face, no hammers, no more fucking 'Pet'! You're through, you son of a bitch!"

"What? How," he asked.

"How what? How did I know? I always knew Coil. Every time you split time and made I choice I always knew. I figured it out my first couple of days here, used it to my advantage to ask some questions of my own. I knew it would come to this."

"You bitch!" he yelled.

Colin hit him again for good measure. His yells of anger became yells of pain as he lay on the ground, his shattered empire around him.

"Self destruct," he said through the blood streaming from his nose. It sounded more like 'zelth diskrunct' but Colin knew what he meant. "I have a self-destruct, you morons. Now we're all going to die."

"No." Colin pulled his device out of its compartment and handed it to Ms Hebert. "I trust you know what to do?"

She nodded. He didn't expect any different from Script.

Coil, who Colin vaguely recognised as some disgraced PRT officer, thrashed, trying in vain to keep Hebert off of him. She put the circlet on his head and switched it on.

He screamed.
Colin knew the pain would be intense. The imaging software first created a map of brain activity, cross-referencing it against a database of physiological information. Then next part? 3D precision heat projection created tiny burns inside the man's head. It was like getting neutered. Snip snip, out goes the aggression, the ambition, and the hate. Things Coil would never feel again. He'd be happy, at peace. In another time or another way, Colin would have said Coil didn't deserve to be happy. Knowing what he did, though? It was a perfect punishment.

The man stopped screaming.

Coil died.

"Turn off the bomb," Hebert ordered him. He looked at her blankly and nodded.

Within minutes the base was normal again. Power back online, gas filtering out, and vents re-opened. The man formerly known as Coil was all too happy to help, courtesy of the device on his head.

Colin sat down, slumping noisily into a corner.

Now he could rest.

Now he'd earned it.