Meera, a young Indian girl in crime-ridden Brockton Bay, fractures during a vicious assault by neonazis and becomes the host of a shard of divine strength. She embodies the spirit and powers of heroes from a World far away, and uses that strength to try to hunt down and eliminate the scourge of Nazis from her city.
But there are darker forces beyond her understanding at work, both within and without.
Dying on Christmas just seemed so blasphemous, somehow. There were happy people, exchanging gifts, eating good food, entertaining themselves less than a hundred feet from where I was bleeding out. Such bad form, I thought, deliriously.
There was a small burst of flame from the kitchen window in front of me. The house groaned slightly. Not much structural stability left in there, with the deliberate damage done by the sledgehammers and the petrol fire. I looked up at my home, dully, from my awkward place on the grass.
Why had I come back home? Nobody was supposed to be here, my older sisters are at Uni, ma is at her in-laws, dad picking up lucrative long-haul contracts over the winter holidays. I had come to do, what? My thoughts were heavy, sticky, being pulled towards a void. There was an object I had to pick up, something inane. Was that worth dying for? The answer faded before I could focus.
A man stepped out onto the porch, a burst of heat accompanying him from the burning house as he closed the door. He looked down dispassionately at me, lying bloody and broken on the neatly trimmed grass, and pulled out a cig. He was alabaster white, the fire and the damage had seemingly not touched him at all. His eyes were the exact same as when he tossed me out by the neck from the upstairs window. No trace remained of the broken window glass on his fist or the crystal ball I had smashed onto his head. No emotion, no empathy. Less than human, a parahuman. A scourge on the world.
I coalesced. Hate, I noted, was a wonderful tonic to concentrate the mind. I snarled up at the unexpressive man, willing myself to fight. My body failed to respond. My hands were cold and far away, my legs belonged to someone else. I struggled and scrapped, the shards of glass in the side of my face digging deeper, the copper-rich tang of my own blood overpowering the fresh-cut grass smell. All of it, worthless. The man watched me squirm, unbothered, making no movement to stop me.
Two more men walked out of side-yard. Hooded and hidden, they were breathing noticeably hard, constantly glancing around them. More nazis, but these were only human. The world could still hurt them, so they had to be careful. They quickly found the man and made their way to him, standing close.
"Gotta go gotta go gotta go. We're losing time, we're behind schedule, we're gonna miss the Hashim house at this rate. Let's move move move boss," one of the men spoke in a fast whisper. Words tripping over one another. A middle manager nazi, I thought hysterically, a true Christmas miracle. He was focused on the parahuman, deliberately not acknowledging my broken presence. The other man stood ramrod still, eyes flicking onto the treeline and then the fences, tension apparent in his gait. He too avoided looking at me. Darkness closed in.
The parahuman, his name coming to me in a haze of pain - Alabaster, finally moved. He tossed his half-smoked cigarette back into the house through a broken window. He still hadn't uttered a word, not once since our fight inside the upstairs landing all the way till now. Nothing mattered to him, an endless, timeless brute of a man, disconnected from all human experiences. He stepped forward, grabbed me by an unfeeling leg, ripped the door open and tossed me inside the burning house. The home where I grew up, spent all 16 years of my life. Soon to be my crematorium.
I was going to die soon, I realized. But like this? What an insult. I was more than this, more than some pitiable meat, being sacrificed as a symbol by anachronistic nazis. I refuse to be just another dead Indian girl, yet another small step in the eventual cleansing of Brockton Bay. My rage blossomed as I spun in the air, the kitchen I knew so intimately well charring and warping, my limbs out of control.
As I landed, primed to die, I felt my blood shiver.
Somewhere far away, a great golden tree rose up and sang to me.
The world fractured.
Gods descended, vying for my attention.
This is an adaptation of a DOTA 2/Worm crossover quest I'm running over on SpaceBattles! I'm removing the second-person perspective, the quest choices and the more gamified elements, and telling it as a straightforward story of a roaring rampage of revenge. Fingers crossed the catharsis of killing nazis makes up for my shortcomings in writing!
The title is taken from my favourite Louise Glück poem, 'Nostos' - We look at the world once, in childhood.
The rest is memory.
Remains permanently invisible until the moment to strike - Riki stalks the battlefield, unseen by the enemy. He chooses his moment carefully and bursts forth in a puff of silencing/power-cancelling smoke, stabbing at his foes before they even know he's there.
A shadow draped itself lightly over me. The sight and smells of the burning kitchen faded away. I was more, now. Still Meera, still the girl who would fist-fight rowdy gangers outside school and get ill-considered tattoos from back-alley parlors, but Rikimaru had slithered into my soul. My body was my own again, no longer broken. My senses were sharpened, my muscles tensing, and I unconsciously took a step at right angles from the world. Between heartbeats, I disappeared.
Very little time had passed since Alabaster tossed me into the disintegrating remnants of my house. The slick blue flames hadn't even consumed the kitchen island yet. Outside, I was intimately aware of the three nazis starting to walk away, ignorant of my ascension. Do I wait? Do I try desperately, with Rikimaru's aid, to save my home? Do I hide away, to strike at the nazi when I am stronger, more aware of my strength?
NO, my entire being rebelled. They have taken from me, they have left me for dead in the ashes of my childhood. I will take from the nazis, everything. All that is theirs is mine, by right of vengeance. The nazis will die, and I will glory in their destruction.
But softly, softly.
I am no brute, not as I am now – my trade is deathcraft, I speak quietly and carry sharp knives. I will not rush out there like a fool to murder and to maim and give away who I am. Knowledge filtered into me gently, the tools of the assassin's trade. There are others waiting for the three outside. Killing them here, I have no guarantee they won't call it in. That I could end them easily was an ironclad fact. But, if they knew enough to come to my house, they most definitely know my name. No, a good assassin doesn't exist at all. I will track them. I will wait for the moment of greatest opportunity.
No need to risk Alabaster's wrath. The loathsome man hadn't survived as long as he had relying purely on his power. Overconfidence, assuming your target is weak, kills as surely as a blade through the back of the head. What was the name of their next intimidation target? Hashim, the man had murmured. With a burst of clarity, I recalled Zainab and Amina Hashim, the owners of a series of motel chains on the city outskirts. Good, conscientious, philanthropic people, the opposite of the Nazis in every way.
A plan came together. I will follow, noiseless and unseen. Get on their vehicle, staying wary of my weight. They must not suspect any survivors here. At the Hashim house, wait for them to get the people out, interrupt if they're about to kill, otherwise follow them into the dark. The shadows would be my playground, while I perform my killing work from outside in. I stroke the smoke bomb under my tunic and grinned – Alabaster might not enjoy my upcoming games, but I surely will. Any suspicion about parahuman intervention would remain far from my house.
I paused, how did they know that my house would be empty tonight? That's always been a rare occasion, Christmas or not. Even my party with Svetlana was planned late. Mother was – I shook my head; analyse later, act now.
I moved swiftly through the house, darkness and smoke no barrier as I leapt upstairs, running to the broken windows facing the front lawn. I saw the two vans parked and felt the beating hearts of the people inside. Alabaster was trampling nonchalantly over ma's flower beds, the other two following nervously behind. I waited, patiently still, until the vans quickly opened both their back doors. I stepped forward again at opposite angles to the world and in a blink, I was behind the one who opened the door to van that was further away. A woman, I noted idly, short and bulky, a beauty mark beneath her right ear. I stepped further back into the van, my steps sure and light. The van stayed steady. I was smoke in the wind.
The two men came over as the woman beckoned them in, Alabaster getting into the other van and pulling out. They had barely settled in as my van too moved out, fast on their heels. I crouched, listening.
"Fuck," the shifty looking man said, quietly.
"What went on in there, hm? This was supposed to be the quiet job, no bodies, no marks." The woman's voice was surprisingly melodious, belying her appearance. There was no anxiety, just calm competence, or as much of it as Nazi minions could ever have.
"There was a fuckin kid in there Heike, fucker tried to get the drop on Alabaster, got fuckin merc'd alrite? Kid's fuckin burnin to death in there right fucking now alrite?" Middle-manager nazi seemed a bit frazzled. I wonder why, Nazis have been slowly killing their way through the non-white population of the city for over a decade now. Man must have seen way worse.
"Hm," Heike seemed unimpressed. "This is why you don't rely on children for HUMINT, their gossip is far too often just that – unreliable and uninformed chat. You need to toughen up Lars. Remember why you're here, remember your target. A single dead coolie kid is nothing, compared to what has been done to you and yours. Remember."
Interesting. More tidbits of information to parse through, later. I paid no attention to Lars and his grievances, imagined or otherwise. Spreading calumnies about undesirable peoples has long been a nazi staple, and I saw no reason to indulge. These were all dead men speaking anyway, my blades hungered for their viscera. My smile sharpened. My body was shaped differently now, I noticed. Lower, more canine, a predator now, with horns curling up from my forehead. I leaned back, waiting.
X--------------------X
The vans parked further away from the Hashims than they did from mine. Their house was bigger, a low-budget McMansion. A perfect playground for me to hunt, after darkness descended. For now, the lights were on, people were happily home. The nazis approached in a group, everyone in the vans coming along. This was going to be a statement, so everyone present wanted their participation trophies. I crawled by their side, a silent doom.
Alabaster was, as ever, a man of few words. A large, double-barrelled gun in his hand, he strode over to the door and fired at the door's hinges. The report was terrific enough to rock the windows, while I winced as my sensitive ears took the brunt of the noise. There were screams immediately from inside the house. The rest of the nazi posse followed Alabaster in quickly. I was right behind.
"Your presence in this here city is no longer needed. I kindly request you to fuck off to parts unknown. No luggage allowed, I'm afraid." Alabaster spoke for the first time in my earshot. His voice was raspy, insubstantial. Like a man who's been smoking for 60 years, or maybe someone who had been choked to the edge of death and never recovered. He didn't even bother to point his gun, just made a gesture with his hand like the maître d' at an upscale restaurant. Oh I am going to enjoy killing him.
I looked at the family. Short Ms. Zainab, willowy Mrs. Amina, her two teenaged boys. Tall and handsome Khalid, who flirted outrageously with me at Sheila's wedding. Short and thoughtful Omar, who plays the violin so well, destined to go to Julliard. Without my interruption tonight, what would happen to them? Watching their home, their safe place, their castle burned to the ground? Executed by nazis soon after?
Well then, it's a good thing I'm here now. Whatever cosmic power changed me, no matter what else I accomplish with that strength, this one unambiguous good will always stand out. I followed the Hashims as they staggered out into the cold, Omar in only his socks shivering as he walked on the frozen driveway. The nazis made them kneel in the snow and moved back in, Heike mockingly putting a finger to her lips before leaving. Where would they go, who would they even call for to help? The nearest house was a half mile away in the cold and the dark. Helpless, they stared at their desecrated home.
Their saviour stood unnoticed by their side. I made sure they weren't likely to take permanent damage in the very near future. Then I turned and went for the breakers. I slashed through the box, my knives cutting through the lines like they were tender meat. The house went dark. I sealed the shattered front door behind me as I went in. It's time to hunt.
X--------------------X
There were 3 people in the foyer, turning to look at the door slamming shut on its own. I didn't recognize any of them, watching as surprise bloomed on their faces. These were the lucky ones, about to die unafraid. I shifted backwards, fading both out and in from the world. A flash, and I was behind the man looking down from the upstairs landing. My blade sliced through his back, starting from his right hip angling upwards through his ribs and through the left lung. He started to fall over, almost bisected, only the muscles of his stomach still connecting the halves. Before the blood had exited his body, I was behind the woman with an open can of gas. My blades went vertical this time, slicing up from the base of her spine through her head. The third man I decapitated. I stopped to put the cap on the gas can, no need to cause an accident. I waited.
The shifty looking man came out of the dining room where the Hashims were sitting earlier. I never knew his name and saw no need to enlighten myself now. He had his flashlight on, and his frantic movements froze as they lit up a bloodied head. I stepped over the head and walked closer, unseen and unheard.
"Please god please god please god please please please," the man was whispering under his breath. I reached up and gently traced a finger around his neck. He stopped, all motion and voice gone, eyes widening comically. I appeared, for the length of an eyeblink, and slit his throat. I left him gurgling on the floor, his torso halfway into the dining room, and moved into the study.
Heike and Lars were coming, her gun up and pointing, arms steady, eyes flat. There was red light coming from a small device on her arm, lighting up the room without poisoning night vision. Lars stood behind her and to the right, covering her off angles. A team, then. I smiled and spoke for the first time in hours.
"The veil is drawn, children. Your time has come." My voice was different, it was scratchy, lemon and raspberry. The timbre felt off even to my ears, as if it came from much further back than is possible in this room, yet every word audible.
"Shit. Cape. Stranger. Lars stay tight to my back. No access. Plug ears on my mark," Heike was quick. She would've made for a good understudy, if only she wasn't a nazi.
"We surrender!" she yelled out, suddenly. I froze, that was remotely not what I expected. Instantly, both Lars and Heike dropped to their knees, back to back, facing the two doors on opposite sides of the room. The next moment, just as I shifted back onto my haunches, they started firing rapidly, sweeping side to side methodically at 15 degree intervals. I barely had time to admire their efficiency before Heike's bullets smashed into me, knocking me back roughly.
Those are not regular pistols, I thought glumly, as I looked down at the dent on my chest and the hole in my right bicep. The duo didn't seem to have noticed their hit on me. They stopped firing, reloaded fast, and started moving towards the living room where I suspect Alabaster was. I considered, for a moment, dropping the smoke bomb here to blind them before striking, but no. I don't know the extent of Alabaster's immortality, and while Rikimaru had hunted gods before, it's safer to save my Trump card for him. I waited for a bit for my arm to heal up enough to move.
I thought about saying some pithy line to the two shooting nazis, maybe something about them being worthy of respect for drawing blood. But no. Fuck no. Nazis don't get good endings, they don't get to go out in glory. They get to die like their namesakes, choking on steel. I put thought to action. As they stopped in front of the door to open it, I blinked in between them. My daggers flashed out. I stabbed precisely up from behind their necks, through their mouths and then twisted, severing the spine. I left them leaning on the door, bloody and choking. Never to see what killed them.
Opening the door was liable to get me shot in the face, I knew. Considering the huge fuck-off gun Alabaster was wielding, my face was probably going to be in a lot of pain the moment I peeked in. I studied the door, a thick, polished slab of mahogany. Oh well, I am invisible, and not all assassins are subtle. I rose up to my full height and kicked the door with the entirety of my strength. The hinges shattered and the door flew backwards. There was a wet scrunch and then the tinkling of glass from the awards cabinet as the last nazi ganger joined his forebears in hell.
And then there was one.
X--------------------X
Alabaster wasn't actually readied up with his gun aiming at the entry points to the room, as I had expected. He was sitting on a comfortable-looking plush armchair, facing away from me. Gun on the table. I recognize this insouciance, immortals are all the same. They face no threats, have no interests, nothing truly matters. They think they've seen it all, right up until my blades end them. It's been my one great pleasure, since those days at the palaces of Tahlin. I paused. Shook my head to clear it: I am not Rikimaru, I am Meera, and I have a parahuman to kill. Reflect later.
"Think you can show me something new, kid?" Alabaster's voice floated out.
I frowned. He had noticed, after all. Had he warned someone? Torture was not my forte, nor was hacking. This could be annoying.
"Surprised?" A raspy chuckle. "You got a bit of steel kid. Congrats on the revenge. But killing those things out there, don't make you strong. You have to –"
I wasn't going to listen to a low rent nazi monologue. My smoke bomb flashed out and dropped on the table, its special contents filling the room within a heartbeat. A purple fog, leeching all light and strength. A blink, and I was behind Alabaster. My blade moved, seeking the point of greatest vulnerability. It went through the top of his head, stabbing down through his brain, obliterating the organelle that made capes stand out. I drew my blade out and cleaned it with a jerk, then stood back, waiting to see how it ends.
Alabaster twitched twice, while his leg wrenched upwards. His mouth opened, no words came out, just drool and a moan. Then he was still.
In 10 heartbeats the smoke dissipated and I picked up the smoke bomb. It'll recharge soon enough. I waited for Alabaster. I did not have the full measure of his immortality, but I know very well the difference between what's a corpse evermore and what's just waiting to come back.
Nothing. A pitiable end, no dramatic last word, no fight. Just dead. More than he deserved. I picked up his phone and looked through it, resigning myself to being unable to unlock it and not knowing if my cover is blown. But no, his was a basic flip phone, and he hadn't made a call or texted since earlier this evening. Everything before that was in a cipher I hadn't the time to decode. He could've contacted someone else while in the van, but my instincts were telling me that I was safe. He's no longer a problem.
I felt good. Like I finally completed a long and difficult professional contract, even though the task I saw to came from myself. Riki's strength seemed more present. I was healed, all my ailments and injuries gone. I rose, refreshed.
I walked out and picked up the only non-broken cell phone from the dining room, went to the front door and stopped. The Hashims were just outside, shaking in anxiety or fear. Khalid had his arm around his mother and little brother, eyes moving rapidly. Ms. Zainab looked shell-shocked. I thought for a second about revealing myself to them, then gave it up as a bad job. My reveal will be on my own terms, and the less the Empire get to find out from here the better. Invisible, I dropped the cell phone on the doormat, and as they startled, blinked behind them, and started running. My legend can only grow.
X--------------------X
Halfway to my house, I checked the time. I was surprised at how short a period it's been since my entire world changed. It's barely an hour and a half past when I left Svetlana's house. She and the others won't be freaking out yet, but it's time to make plans. I have to tell ma that the house is gone, have to figure out who's been leaking my information to the nazis, have to rebuild. I can't live at the mercy of my aunts, who I can barely tolerate in small doses. I paused, annoyed. Riki was good at a lot of things, but he's no builder, this is something Meera has to handle.
Razzil the Alchemist – Primary: Tinker; Secondary: Striker/Brute – Human
Create Potions to massively buff allies, weaken enemies and create zones of terror – Synthesizing extra resources from each and every kill, Alchemist has no trouble gathering the tools needed to destroy his foes. Ambushing enemies with corrosive acid and a host of unstable chemicals, he battles to ensure his greedy escapades can remain uninterrupted.
There's something wrong with me.
I'm too tall, too much hair, not enough shadows. The darkness, which had been a comforting friend was now no longer welcoming, full of unknown threats. My earrings felt too heavy, my hair moved in the wind like a snake. Whispers, whispers of metals melting down around me, whispers turning to screams of people under my … claws? I don't –
I knelt down in the grass, between unknown lawns. Where am I? I was going to call ma, call Svetlana, make decisions … a man's bisected corpse flashed in my eyes. I crouched lower, pressing my face into the grass, and breathed deep. Alabaster's corpse shuddered in death. His moans, as his shattered brain tried to function despite deadly trauma, mumbled furious secrets to me. I tried not to listen. I am the captain of my soul, I told myself.
Rikimaru is gone, for now, but I remain, and my grisly work in the Hashim house is the legacy left behind. My hands curled against the grass, bits of artificial turf sticking to my fingernails, just like all of the bones and viscera didn't. Though I danced through that charnel house, not a single drop of blood is on me.
I'm marked now, and no amount of scrubbing will out that damned spot.
Revulsion swept through me. All the collected calm, all of the nonchalant dealing with the business of murder had washed off with the soul of Riki, may he fucking rot. No, he's not gone, I can still bring him back anytime, all it would take is to be back in that kitchen again, paralysed and burning, a slow suffering ending with gruesome murder.
Never again, I whispered to myself, knowing it to be a lie even as my lips moved. There are nazis to ruin, and Riki, for all his evil nature, is a harbinger of all the terrible things in the night.
X--------------------X
"Ma I gotta tell you something important don't freak out."
"Meera Hazra, first of all you do not start talking that way to your mother. Second, I have morning-after pills in the master bedroom cabinet go take them right –"
"Sorry to interrupt ma, but please go outside to the veranda, this is way important."
"… … Tell me."
"So yeah I had to leave Svetlana to go get my inhalers cause I was getting a bit woozy, Mischa dropped me off and I ran the rest of the way. I was upstairs in my room when a bunch of fucking Empire gangers broke in. The cape Alabaster was with them. An initiation or some shit. I –"
I paused, no longer certain what to say, the cold pavement beneath me getting chillier. Ma was quiet too, for a long moment.
"Are they dead?"
"Ma WHAT? Listen that's –"
"Do not be foolish. You speak to me now and you are still alive. I did not raise a daughter to run from those come to destroy. So tell me truly. Are the men and women who came to attack us dead?"
"Yeah. Yes they're dead. Really dead. Ma I'm, I'm not sure –"
"Good. I applaud you. We will not continue this discussion over the telephone anymore. I am coming over."
"Ma stop, you can't. The house is gone alright? They burnt it the fuck down. FD isn't here yet, no idea why, I saw the Hutchinsons outside watching, they musta called 911. But you're like 2 hours away, no way are you driving so far this late …"
"This is not a debate. I will assess the situation with the house first. You will stay with the Ivanovas until I tell you. I will call your father. You will call your sisters and tell them only that the house was attacked. They will stay in their dorms until we have fixed a temporary place. Do you comprehend?"
"Yes ma, I will talk to Mischa and the others, they won't mind, I'm always there anyway. Still you sure about this? We're a target now."
"I am certain. Listen to me, and listen close. The Hazras will be going to war. We will call our allies and we will crush our enemies, as our clan has always done. You will be a soldier. I love you, my little ball of sugar, and we will fight with you till the end."
"Love ya too ma."
"Do not have intercourse with Svetlana."
"MA"
X--------------------X
I realized, as I stood outside the Ivanova house, that I did get an answer from the cacophony that had assaulted me earlier. Those little flakes of dirt and sawdust under my nails from when I grasped at the soil? I could, with a few more materials, create an explosive that would bring down Medhall. The medovukha that Svetlana was surreptitiously passing me earlier, I could use it to concoct a brew that would make me strong enough to fistfight Lung, and maybe even heal from the charred carbon Lung would leave me as, after the fight. There is no end to the miracles Razzil could alchemize out of almost nothing, his endless greed driving him to ruin.
There is an opportunity here, I think. Potions, for soldiers. Heals, so that if someone goes after family they can survive. Area denial, chemicals concoctions that recognize allies from enemies, buffing one and damaging the other. I –
"Mimi!"
I left my thoughts with a jerk. Svetlana was standing on the porch glaring at me, holding a glass of watery kissel. I smiled, happy for the first time in what felt like forever, and walked over.
"Sorry sweatie, some bad shit happened and I was processing. Let's go in yeah?"
"K first don't call me 'sweatie' and sec what do you mean something bad happened? Why were you gone for so long? You have any idea how freaking worried I was?"
"I'll explain to your mom and the others all at once, okay? Gotta get inside fast though, my tits are freezing off."
Svetlana squinted suspiciously at me, then reached out and wrapped herself around my biceps and pulled me into the warm house. She passed me another glass of kissel that she had kept tottering on top of the cabinet next to the shoe-rack, and yelled for everyone to come to the den.
Mischa came in first, wiping grease from his hands. He looked troubled. Their mom and dad followed.
"What going on Meera? Did you get bad news?" Alina, Svetlana's mom, spoke softly. She always worried. Over her daughter, over me, over the weather turning. But she had a big heart, and a lot of love to give.
I smiled sadly at her. "Yes, aunt Alina. I think someone targeted our house. It's burning down."
Svetlana gasped and clutched my arm so tightly that I felt circulation cutting off. I didn't shrug her off, the contact was comfort.
"I was late because I was talking to the Hutchinsons. They called the cops and the Fire department already, but nobody had come yet. They had seen people in unmarked vans earlier. I think …" I hesitated, a bit. Decided to go for the truth. They know, more than anyone else, the cruelties this city imposes on outsiders.
"I think this was an Empire hit."
Uncle Aleksandr got up. There was a deep, deep fury in his eyes. One that I recognized in myself, from earlier in the evening. He turned away. Mischa looked resigned. Auntie Alina was biting her lips, and then reached out to circle my hand in both her hands.
"We gotta fuck them up. We gotta get them right now. What are we waiting for? They hurt my Mimi, they hurt us all." Svetlana's voice was shrill. I turned to look at her, surprised. She was breathing heavily, her face was flushed with rage. She pulled at my arm. "Papa we – "
"Svetlana Aleksandrovna Ivanova. You will take Meera upstairs. Take some food with you." Aunt Alina's voice was sharp. "Now, Svetochka," she repeated as Svetlana hesitated.
"Ma wanted me to stay with you guys, at least for tonight. She's coming over, driving on Christmas night, you know how she gets. She might call later, I think we'll be looking for hotels."
"Of course, love. You just enjoy some treats with my girl, yes? Let us handle this."
Uncle Aleksandr, who had been entirely silent till now, spoke up. "We are family Meera. If there is a battle, we will charge by your side. Rest. We prepare."
X--------------------X
Blue eyes looked at me accusingly. "What happened to you speaking only the truth and nothing but the truth? You were lying like a Mynah."
"Didn't know I was giving a court deposition, nerd. I don't remember getting sworn in either. What's this, some kinda kangaroo court?"
Svetlana whupped her plush Godzilla at me. It was old, pre-Behemoth, and surprisingly hard.
"Where's the rest of the brats, by the way? Thought Carrie at least was going to spend the night.
She rolled her eyes. "Maybe she would've, if you stopped making fun of her name."
"I haven't stopped in 10 years, sure as hell not gonna stop now. I'm just waiting till she goes Carrie on me because of it."
She groaned and fell back on her divan. "You're awful."
"I know, that's why you love me. Speaking of which, mom banned me from sleeping with you, so your virtue remains intact tonight."
"Ew, I can do better than you, you brute. Someone with an actual color sense maybe."
I laughed out loud, and the tension of the evening finally drained out. I was a different person than the Meera who left Svetlana a few hours back, but maybe that's fine.
"Don't think I didn't notice you dodging my question earlier. What gives?"
I hesitated. "Sorry Lana, but ma said not to explain until I've had a chat with her face-to-face."
"Oh. That's fine then. Should've just said that, weirdo. You can't hide things with your dumb over-expressive face anyway. You'd make for the world's worst assassin."
I froze. A decapitated head, rolling in the beam of a flashlight. Blood, so much blood on the carpet. None of it on me. Never on me.
"-Mi? Mimi?"
"Sorry, nerves. Did everyone get home ok?"
She looked at me, her eyes piercing. She did always seem to know me better than I knew myself. "Yeah. Genna's obsessed with her new boyfriend, was texting all evening. Jose was moping, his mom came by to pick him up. The twins were pretending to be in a sugar rush, though they left before it could start to get annoying. We were starting to worry about you."
"Hey Lana? How the fuck did they know my house was gonna be empty tonight. I didn't know until two days back."
She looked disturbed. "Maybe they didn't? Not like they'd have stopped if there people inside anyway."
"Yeah, maybe." This is a discussion for ma, and maybe later with Svetlana. She's smart, she'll see lines that I don't.
Later that night, in my dreams, I had horns and arms covered in blood.
X--------------------X
I sat beside ma, refreshed and alert. Quietly thankful for my newly enhanced biology, which meant I didn't have to drink terrible early morning police station coffee. I eyed her surreptitiously, trying to judge her mood. She looked as she always did, utterly in control of the situation, ready to scramble for every opportunity. With her around, I could almost believe that everyone was going to be alright.
An officer came in. A thin black man with glasses, he would've slotted in perfectly at the library, or inside a chemical lab.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hazra. The morning after Christmas is always bad, but last night was worse than usual." He sounded tired, so tired.
"Who else?"
"The Xi family, who run a bunch of laundromats over by Captain's Hill. The Sullivans, they do roofing and wintering. You, of course. Finally the Hashims, who had the worst of it."
"Zainab and Amina Hashim? They are friends of the family. How are they doing?"
"I'm sorry ma'am, they're part of an active investigation and I can't disclose anything. You can reach out to them personally, though I would advise waiting. They've been through a severely traumatic incident and deserve time to recover. Besides," he grimaced, "they're in PRT custody anyway."
Your mother's eyes shone, but she didn't press. "Very well. What is the status of the investigation on our situation?"
"Ma'am, respectfully, all we've done is opened the file, and taken your daughter's report. The Fire Marshall will have her own report. Your insurance will start paying out based on that. Then we'll move into detective work. But you and I both know what that's like in this city. Still," he added with a smile, "I think, if you keep an eye on the news for PRT bulletins, you might get some good news. It won't bring your house back, but there might be some catharsis. Justice comes from odd places in this town."
Ma didn't smile, or respond in any way, but I could feel pride wafting off her like expensive perfume. I hid a grin.
X--------------------X
Later, in an expensive uptown hotel, ma sat me down in a posh leather recliner. She went around the room, checking for something. Wiretaps? Tinkertech listening devices? Then she came and sat in front of me, a notepad in hand.
"Speak," she commanded, "and do not stop until you have no more words left."
I bowed my head, and obeyed.
X--------------------X
Ma paused, looking down at her notes. It was in shorthand, and a particularly exotic dialect of it too, I could make out perhaps one word per page. "These … devas that have come to you. You are certain there will be more?"
"Yup, think of 'em as the strongest capes of an entire, alien, universe. There's gods, demons and common drunken brawlers, all mixed in."
Ma's lips pursed as I mentioned demons. Then moved on. "Rikimaru. He seems like a formidable asset, for the war to come."
I looked away, clenching my fist. I will do my duty for my family, but the blood will never leave me.
"You will not use him."
I turned to her, in shock.
Ma gave me a look. "Obviously, his mentality is corrosive and dangerous. I will not compromise the health of your mind for the sake of short term wins. If you are to use him, you will be trained. Brawling like a common criminal all your life has not helped you, but perhaps more structured training will. You say you recover faster. I will test that capability, until I am satisfied."
I nodded in relief. Fair. "Yea maybe after the new year. 2010 is going to see a fresh new me."
"Now Razzil is more useful. You said he creates elixirs that improve creatures, yes? We will test that, in secret, on animals. Then, on you, and finally on those of us who will be in the frontline of combat against the Empire. But we must be wary, the government heroes look down on those who produce chemicals that modify people too much. I will discuss this with your father and Aleksandr.
"For now, focus on creating a few of each type of elixir. We will need demonstrations. Make those that affect wider areas too.
"Finally, the most important of all. Your identity to the public. We must assume that the Empire, the Protectorate and all the other parahumans that infest our city are already aware of you."
I startled. There's no way I slipped up that badly already.
Ma raised a hand. "Not you, as in the girl sitting in front of me right now, but you as in the cape who slaughtered all those the gangmembers.
"We must put out a competing narrative, hiding you behind a different truth. Make you important enough to protect.
"Tell me," her eyes gleamed in the sterile hotel room light, "are there any healers amongst your zoo of godlings?"
Far away, a shard of the Radiant chimed in its tree.
Io, the Wisp – Primary: Trump; Secondary: Shaker/Blaster – Non-Human
Links to its allies to buff them – Io the Wisp is a Fundamental of the universe, a force older than time, a wanderer from realms far beyond mortal understanding. A benevolent, cooperative force, Io bonds its strange magnetism to others so that the power of allies might be enhanced. Its motives inscrutable, its strength unimaginable, Io moves through the physical plane, the perfect expression of the mysteries of the universe. Io has a talent for making allies more effective. A powerful companion, the wisp's tether speeds allies and stops enemies. Capable of linking to and teleporting across the battlefield with an ally, Io can make a dangerous ally even deadlier.
My voice was a wordless song, mesmerizing and ethereal.
I turned around, or thought I did. Physical directions have never really mattered to me. Only life and what is not life. And look! There was life coming close to me right now, while bits of non-life are touching me. I shifted away from the non-life slightly.
I had … limbs, now? How curious. A being of life touched me slightly. I was gladdened at the soft feel, and extended a bit of myself to it. I pushed through the link and started steadying the life. It's so fragile, a little self-sustaining bag of energy, always at the mercy of greater cosmic forces tearing it apart. I will protect it, while I am here.
I felt restricted, small as I am. Little bits of me left, and I delighted in their burgeoning symphony. They orbited around me, in mathematically perfect circles, and I cherished their cries. They echoed back, telling me more of what they see. All the non-life surrounding me with their stories, neat and square, mirror and sand, cloth and metal. Then life standing amidst them, beautiful and serene. I almost recognize the shape that life took. Almost. Almost.
Wait.
I gasped. I was Meera again.
"Ma?"
She stood there, staring at me, eyes wide.
"What's wrong? Ma?"
She looked scattered. I didn't like it. Ma is supposed to be the rock in the ocean, stoic and immovable. I felt an instinctive distaste for this wondrous new form I had taken, more so than even Riki.
Ma took a deep breath and then, in the blink of an eye, she was back.
"This one is named Io the Wisp, you said? Powerful, indeed. A pari, from myth." She smiled, plans within plans shifting beyond her eyes. "Powerful, and usable. We have a path forward.
"Go ahead with your plans, darling. Enjoy the day with Svetlana. We shall convene tonight, at the Ivanovas. I have strategies to consider."
I left. Ma was in her scheming mood and I knew from experience that she won't suffer me fooling around.
As I walked out, I thought I could still feel all the electronics around me, singing their unreal songs.
X--------------------X
Jose was waiting outside the ruined arcade. He held out a fist, I rolled my eyes and pulled him into a hug.
"You set up a course?"
"Nah I was just admiring this ruined post-modern deco and analysing how it highlights the post-Scion downfall of American mall culture. 'Course I set up a fucking course ya fucking meerkat."
I laughed. Jose tended towards melancholy, and if he's this pissed already then it promised to be a good day.
"Lana's late again." I said, theatrically loud.
"I am not. A witch arrives precisely when she's meant to."
"That reference doesn't work at all dork, considering you were already here and hiding."
Svetlana pouted. Which was very unfair, I thought, considering her pout is so criminally gorgeous that literally everyone falls over to give her what she wants. My little joke does not warrant bringing out the heavy weaponry.
I headed in, joshing with my friends, kicking at rocks and scraps. The sun was out, the air was lightly chilly, the inside of the abandoned mall pleasantly musky.
I was alive and happy, surrounded by people I love, and I knew this is how I wanted the rest of my life to go. No, I will make certain it does.
X--------------------X
Svetlana was being uncharacteristically polite and not laughing as I lay flat on my back, having wiped for the sixth time in a row. Jose had no such compunction and was snickering mercilessly, holding on to the high-speed camera. Without my newly developed fast bodily recovery, I was certain my ass would require replacement by this point.
"Alright that's it. I'm declaring that all these safety pads are holding me back. I going to have to do a power-up sequence to get over this hump."
I stood, took off my jacket and stretched, conscious of both Svetlana and Jose suddenly stopping and staring. I winced a bit, my physique had undergone a fairly radical improvement since yesterday, and they've seen enough of my body to notice the irregularity. I pulled my hair back into a bun, thought about taking off my earrings and decided not to. I liked how they contrasted against my skin, especially as I ran at speed across walls. Besides, Svetlana bought them for me as a joke, and it remains extremely funny that me refusing to ever take them off makes her so mad.
I sprinted back to the start that Jose had marked out – a broken down escalator with the stairs rusting and dangerous, but the plastic of the rails polished and gleaming.
I breathed deep, channelled the spirit of Sébastien Foucan, and ran.
Heavy steps over the rails, angling up. Lightly dancing across the exposed scaffolding for a theatre that'll never open. Fast, across the concourse paths. Into the stairwell. Tic-tac between the walls, conserving momentum, up three stories in a flash. On the roof, now. The sounds of Svetlana running to catch up. Coming up – an incomplete partition, no floor. Accelerating fast. Start diagonal. Shoes gripping the cement. One foot on the cinderblocks, pushing off forward and upward. Defying gravity. Across in a flash, Jose looking at me from directly below. The last wall now. Long strides, kicking straight up, a perfect passe muraille. Over the cliff and beyond. A smooth slope all the way down to the ruined fountain. Small steps now, keeping momentum. Gripping the pole, swinging down.
And over.
Breathe.
Svetlana whooping like a banshee, her face flushed, hair so blonde it's almost white surrounding her head like a halo. She's beautiful. Jose running in, belting out a grito that would've made a seasoned Mariachi proud. The camera swung from his hand. I raised a fist, no air left in my lung to laugh.
I'll be young forever, I thought.
X--------------------X
"Hey Jose~" I sang, hideously off-beat, to the tune of Hey Jude, while Jose skipped over some debris, carrying snacks.
I was sitting down on the tarmac, leaning against some unidentifiable plastic barriers that was supposed to be a maze for kids. I enthusiastically started devouring Jose's mom's tacos. Svetlana was juggling the aluminium foil wrappers that she had squished into small, shiny, metallic balls. Jose brought out a bag full of Jarritos, and I immediately grabbed for my favourite Tamarind flavour. The other two huffed simultaneously. Heathens, I thought, missing out on the best tastes.
Satiated, my eyes fell on a couple of perfectly sword shaped sticks near the gutter. I lit up.
"Lana! Up! Up! En garde!" I brandished my weapon.
Svetlana rolled her eyes at my antics and leapt up, tossing the balls onto Jose's head. She kicked at the other stick, making it fly up at the perfect angle and height. She snatched at it with that easy dexterity I've always envied. "Pret," she said, her back straight, her sword pointing diagonally up.
"Allez!" Jose spoke out loud from his place on the ground, camera once again ready.
I took a step forward and then, in a flash, it was over. Svetlana crossed the few feet between us in a blinding bit of footwork. She angled her sword down and up in a jerk that blurred her hand, sending my sword flying. Before I could move my hand, her point was at my throat. Her smile was steel. "Touché."
"Gods you're so fucking cool when you get like that."
Svetlana sighed and dropped her stick, a pleased blush on her cheeks. Jose stopped recording.
"So, Jose, any updates on the docu? Feel like we've given you enough footage."
"You know I can keep camming you two forever and still not have the perfect throughline. Being a perfectionist is hard."
"Bro that's not what camming means. You're going to cause a scandal. Look at this pure and angelic face, you want to expose her to the dark web?" I grabbed Svetlana's chin and wiggled it. She bore my insanity patiently.
"You know, your ma called dad today? She wanted a line on local importers of cheap tinkertech lenses. What's up with that?"
And just like that, my mood plummeted. "Brockton Bay happened man. Not gonna talk about it anymore, you know how it is."
He looked at me for a long moment. "Sure, okay, I get that."
"Hey Jose?" Svetlana's tone was considering. "What do you know about Genna's new boytoy? You dropped her off, right?"
"Stefan? Eh," Jose said, sounding dismissive. "Rich pretty boy. Blonde, handsome, perfectly gentlemanly. Looked at me like I was the help, condescending but polite."
"Hmm. Do you know his family?"
"You realize their type don't mix with us? Some bigshot at Medhall. Schulz, I think. The mom's name was Sabine."
Svetlana turned and looked at me. I clenched my fist. Little remnants of Riki's instincts churning.
"I think," I growled out, "we need to have a chat with Genna."
X--------------------X
Two hours later, Genna was single again. And I had a lot of information for ma.
X--------------------X
I floated in the dark.
It had taken me a while to find the abandoned grain storage-depot ma had texted me after I briefed her about Genna's paramour. I was on the far outskirts of the Bay, almost halfway to Newbury, before I found it. I had no means of fast locomotion other than Riki, so it's a good thing I could run pretty much indefinitely now.
The depot was unguarded, surrounded by decrepit chain-link fence whose only offensive capability was tetanus from rusted hooks. The doors were tightly sealed though, with a faded official-looking stamp. I did two full circles before realizing I wasn't getting in normally. I couldn't Wisp my way in either, since the whole point of the excursion was to learn how to control it. Besides, ma had made it very clear that Wisp doesn't exist, and hence cannot be seen, no matter how empty the area seemed.
I ended up putting my parkour skills to good use. Climbing up a sketchy looking pipe, trusting my life to a dubious feeling parapet as I skipped across it, and doing a small wall run to get onto the roof of the cylindrical building. The top felt shabby, and a couple of kicks knocked off enough tiles for me to swing in.
I was surprised to find working ventilation, since there wasn't any power. Probably some of those older wind-powered vents were scattered around. The building was cacophonous as I made my way down the rafters, my headlamp spotting surprisingly few cobwebs. Too cold, I supposed. Then, finally, I was in the centre of the vast space. With my lamp off, only a small beam of light crisscrossed the ceiling from where I broke in. I smiled, and shifted.
Io saw the world very differently, I noticed now that I had at least some of my mind active. In fact, sight wasn't even the right word. Light was energy, and all energy was the same to Io. It existed on a scale much more fundamental, only on the charges that binds all of existence together. How such a force, one that is seemingly older than the beginning of time itself, can have consciousness was not a question I wanted to ask. It would be impolite.
I spread myself out again, little spirits dancing out around me. Through them, I could see, not just feel. And I saw everything. The dust on the ground, pipes underground carrying runoff and electricity, the ants in their vast dirt castles, the rats hiding from my light.
But most of all, I saw myself.
Ma hadn't actually told me what I looked like other than just calling me pari, a fairy, she was too flabbergasted for many details. Now that I can see my manifestation, I understood. I was a being of glorious, glowing light. The divine feminine, an angel. I wanted to weep at my own beauty.
I stopped. Swore to myself to never mention that particular thought to Svetlana.
Best of all, I was unrecognizable. There was no trace of my actual face, and as fond of it as I was, nobody was going to identify me that way. I floated upwards. Gravity wasn't a force I cared for, and I didn't need to build momentum to move. I dashed around the depot with a laugh, molecules of air brushing against me, instantly accelerating to high speed. I had to stop before I phased out of the depot altogether, metal no barrier to me if I wasn't cautious.
For my other abilities, I knew I could heal. I reached out a hand and a beam of glowing magnetism stretched out to touch a rat, which squeaked in terror, before I sent calming strength down the link. I supercharged the rat. All its ailments healed, no longer starving. I knew it could fight better now. Its attacks, if it had any other than claws, more devastating. It was shielded too, from the winter air, from enemies, physical or immaterial. I let it go, its little mind forever changed by a touch of the divine.
There was something else. Just as all energy was the same to me, all space was too. I could … feel ma, somewhere to the east of me. Svetlana, south-east. I could just choose to go to them, at any time, taking the ascended rat with me. Though I'd have to return back, after, but the rat didn't.
Hmm, I could be the world's prettiest personal teleporter.
Ma is going to be thrilled.
X--------------------X
I was nervous. A gathering like this, called by my mother, with neither my father nor my sisters present? It felt like a storm is coming, all of it centered on me, and I didn't know if I could navigate it safely.
Svetlana took my hand, gently, and pressed her lips to it. I relaxed. This is not combat, this is just parkour again, but with words and relationships. I can get through it with Svetlana by your side.
"Welcome Brigitte, welcome Gilles, thank you for coming by on short notice." Ma was smiling. The Renauds were old friends, just as long as the Ivanovas and the Haldars. I had some vague idea that they did import/export, particularly from the Aquitaine region. Since the oceans were no longer safe, their worth had only gone up with demand.
Gilles was a silver fox, middle-aged and hot, in that undefinable way that some Frenchmen were hot. Brigitte had been a nanny for me and Svetlana, and it was good to see her again. They were a childless couple and used that excuse to spoil us both rotten, despite ma's complaints.
"Isha my love you look radiant as ever. Have you been aging down, darling? Finally using your old contacts to cheat at life?" Brigitte was all smiles, hugging ma tightly, while Gilles kissed her cheek.
Before she could reply, Uncle Aleksandr and Auntie Alina came in with snacks and vodka.
"I am sorry, but the Haldars could not make it today. Sunil is aware of what we are here to discuss and will contribute in the future after we have made decisions. Jiten, as you all know, is still in Detroit, but he will support me in whatever I ask today.
"With that, please enjoy what dear Alina has prepared for us, speak with the children, drink. Our talks this evening will be heavy, and we must get what delights we can until then."
X--------------------X
"We have been attacked. Our home, desecrated. My daughter, my life and blood, assaulted. Tonight, we must decide what we intend to do about this. Before I open the floor, my proposal: war." Mother's eyes were flinty. Her gait stiff. She was angry, angrier than I had ever seen.
"Empire, yes?" Gilles' voice had an accent still, after all these decade of being in the US. I suspected it was put on.
Ma nodded.
"What resources do we have here in the Bay? This place is almost abandoned, and if your homes weren't here, we would've moved on long ago. No offense, Isha darling." Brigitte said sharply, tilting her head at ma.
"That is quite fair. We have companies in Boston, but most of our current operations are in the west, in Syracuse or Rochester. Gilles?" Ma turned to look at him.
"We still bring in stockpiles through Buffalo, and that's just down the road from Monroe County and Rochester. But sweetie, material has never really been our problem, has it. No, the question is, can you still bring in your people from the old country? Or has that door been closed permanently, after the mess in Philadelphia."
Ma grimaced, that expression strange to see on her face. I was confused, who were her people? The other Hazras, the in-laws, all the Haldars and Shahs – they weren't the sort you bring to fight nazis.
"Maybe," ma continued, "I will have to make compromises, offer incentives. Depends on how we approach this. Indiscriminate bloodshed, despite its appeal, will lead to questions.
"However, we do not need warriors, or assassins. We need defenses, people who would obscure us from Government and Enemy thinkers, we need intelligence. Those people are, generally, easier to get in here."
"You wish to fight the Empire without warriors? A PR campaign?" Uncle Aleksandr was frowning.
"No, because we already have our weapon. Meera, if you please." She turned her head towards me. I swallowed.
Svetlana gasped, her hands tightening painfully around mine. I looked at her, and her eyes widened in understanding. She teared up.
I got up, stood in the middle of the gathering, and shifted.
X--------------------X
"We cannot target their homes and families Isha, this breaks all the rules." Aunt Alina's voice was firm. She was the only one who hadn't drunk a drop of alcohol. Even I had sneaked a couple of sips.
"They already have, Alina. The only path here is to escalate. These people, they are entrenched in the population. They do not need to carry swastikas and tiki torches to prove themselves. Money, and influence does it for them."
"And how do you suggest tackling them dear Isha? Your old methods won't work here." Brigitte was calm.
"Why not?" Ma retorted. "We are waging what amounts to a guerilla insurgency, against another, entrenched opposition army. I have done this. I have won this."
I was stunned. What?
"This isn't Dhofar Isha. This isn't even Naxalbari. The Yanks aren't going to stand by and watch you commit atrocities. They will consider you a greater enemy than the nazis, because you're trying to upset the status quo." Gilles said, straight and to the point.
I was still reeling from the revelations about ma being, what, some kind of guerilla fighter?
"The PRT have never dealt with a homegrown insurgency. That is not how they operate. We have to watch for the FBI and, maybe, homeland security. But they are known quantities in our business, we know how to divert their attention."
"But they have dealt with powerful cape gangs. And what are you going to do when, following retaliation from the Empire, Legend comes to town? Or Eidolon?"
"Eidolon doing counter-insurgency? You much be joking Gilles."
"No Isha I'm deadly serious. You don't get to my position without considering the triumvirate dropping by on my business at any time."
I gulped. "How many times has that happened Gilly?"
His smile had no humor in it. "Once was enough."
Ma stood up and paced. "If we are not going to follow the shortest path, then we must get others to do it for us."
Uncle Aleksandr had the weight of experience in his voice. "Proxy warfare? That is nasty Isha, you know that better than us. The proxies always break their chains, and their goals won't be ours. There's already one hidden group hiring merc companies in this town. More would –"
"We do not need mercenaries Aleksi." Ma's eyes gleamed. "We have the protectorate."
Everyone paused.
Brigitte started laughing. "Oh Isha you really are a such a delight. Of course. We have us a cape. A brilliant, useful cape. And if the Empire targets her? Well now Eidolon shields us."
"You will not use my Mimi as bait." Svetlana spoke up for the first time in a while. Her voice was unyielding. I took her hand and squeezed it. She looked at me, full of fury.
"It's alright Lana, if I don't stand for my family, then who even am I, in the end."
"You are my family too!"
"I know honey. Always and forever."
I looked at ma. "I will do this. Besides, I will be safer in the Wards than you are now Lana, dancing along with their colorful little circus troop."
"A word of caution." Auntie Alina said softly. "The PRT might not know counter-insurgency, but they are intimately familiar with capes infiltrating them for cross purposes. Better than anyone in the world. We must be careful."
Auntie Alina turned to look at me straight in the eye. "I will train you, sweet Meera. You will need to pass their questions, their psychological profiles. They will lie to you, try to catch you in verbal traps. I will show you how to steel your mind. How to walk parallel paths. How to survive in the shadows, and smile at your enemies."
I nodded. She looked sad, like I was losing something important. Svetlana still hadn't let me go, the calluses on her fingers rubbing my wrists.
"Svetlana," mother commanded, "Can you please get back to Genna? She will need to contact her erstwhile Empire boyfriend again."
Both of us looked at her, confused. "What? Why?"
All the adults in the room smiled as one.
"Let me teach you something, sweetlings," ma explained, "of how to run a False-Flag operation."
The character of Isha (ma/mother) was heavily inspired by Mia Hurst, the protagonist (maybe??) of Wildbow's latest serial, Claw.
Hannah carefully turned right to get onto the off-ramp. She checked her corners constantly, maintaining 5 above the speed limit. Some drivers tended to accelerate awkwardly to avoid merges and they weren't always watching for motorbikes, even ones as distinctive as hers. New England drivers weren't the worst she had ever faced, that dubious honour belonging to Houston, but they had some strangely antiquated ideas about road manners.
Her radio buzzed.
"Console to Miss Militia. How do you read?"
"Read you loud and clear."
"This is just coming in. Possible 24-10 at 108 Sheffield Drive. LEO on site. PRT response holding."
"Is this confirmed?"
"Negative. Possible only. Potential subject is young Asian female. You're the closest. Cleared to respond."
"Affirm. Engagement status?"
"Non-hostile. Damage to residence."
"Affirm. Heading there now."
Hannah sighed, turned on her blues, and accelerated. Just another day in the Bay, another life destroyed. She knew the PRT procedures for this, word by word. Get the target out of the immediate situation, bring her to hospital or PRT holding. Isolate her from anyone other than family. Pitch the wards to family or guardians, if available. Bring a female member of the protectorate to her, if not. These were steps taken from hard lessons. To remember that what's best for her might not be what she wants. Despite the betrayal she might feel at that moment.
No, she won't let this girl down, if she really has triggered. The worst day of her life. Hannah's grip tightened on the handlebars. She will be on the girl's side, no matter what.
X--------------------X
She parked her bike in between two police cruisers and looked around the neighbourhood. Understated. Not nouveau-riche, this was old-money. Not the typical trigger environment.
She headed towards the house with a bunch of LEOs standing around, gossiping.
"Officers."
They inclined their heads, and let her pass, eyes following the shivering ball of energy at her hip.
As she walked up the driveway, she tallied up the damages. At least two bursts of gunfire, she could see the splinters and holes in the façade walking up and down. There was a … grenade? Flash bomb? That had been hurled through a shattered window.
She could smell some smoke, and the acrid tang of gunpowder. A hit, then? The dispatcher had said Asian girl. ABB? Doubtful, too far from Lung's turf, he didn't touch what he couldn't control. But there had been those attacks over Christmas night. The beast in the city is stirring again.
She opened the door and walked in, sliding past the police stenographer and photographer. One of them pointed her towards a room at the back, with a large glass sunroof. She looked at the décor in the corridors. Tasteful, but expensive.
She knocked, gently, on the open door. The family, two Indian and two Caucasian, looked up. A policewoman who was on her haunches talking to a teenaged girl got up, patted the girl's shoulder, and walked out giving Hannah a sympathetic look and a quick nod.
Hannah smiled wide, her expression obvious even through her bandana by long practice. Almost everyone sitting here, she noticed, had damages to their clothes. She saw charred holes, a little blood, rips near the stomachs. But, crucially, absolutely no injuries on their persons. In fact, everyone looked at the peak of health. Ah, she thought.
She looked at the middle-aged Indian woman who seemed the most put together. She was sitting in the middle, appearing to almost hold court. Her sleeves were torn off, and there were little wood splinters on her otherwise immaculate short black hair. Her eyes were calculating.
"Good afternoon everyone. I am Miss Militia, of the Protectorate. I know this has been a traumatic morning for you, and I'm sure you're all already tired of explaining everything, but could one of you please give me an idea of what happened here? My job is to help."
The woman huffed. "Morning? This is the second targeted attack against my family in a week. I am afraid you are not doing your job very well, Miss Militia."
Oh so this was going to be that kind of meeting.
She sighed.
X--------------------X
"The Renauds have long been friends and allies of our family. They chose to shelter us, while we recovered from the Christmas night attacks that burnt down our home. As you are perhaps aware."
Hannah nodded, noting the word 'allies.'
"This will sound harsh, but we decided that it would be safest for us to stay in a nominally White household. Especially since the Renauds do not stay here full time.
"The only people who knew we were here was my family, and some of Meera's friends."
Hannah looked up at that. "I'm sorry, but if could you please let us exactly who was aware of your presence here, that would be very helpful for our investigation. Even if it doesn't seem important. Not now, but later."
"We will. As I was saying, we stayed here overnight, and Gilles here came in early in the morning with some groceries, while Birgitte," she said, nodding at the statuesque woman with red hair, "came in just before noon, with spare clothes."
"Just after 3pm, Meera noticed two vans outside with unmarked plates." Mrs. Hazra continued, looking at her daughter.
Meera was an athletic girl, Miss Militia noted. Her expression was guarded, though not as shell-shocked as she would expect from a recent trigger. Her hair was mehndi coloured near the ends, and she had on bright fluorescent earrings. Both her sleeves were off, showing musculature she'd expect from a distance runner. Her voice when she started speaking was rough, almost vulgar.
"I saw similar vans outside our home on Christmas night, before I ran. I expected the worst." She grimaced. "I was right. I yelled out Empire, and we all moved to the study."
"That's the room with the thickest walls, and strong oak desks for protection." Mr. Renaud supplied.
"They shot at the house, and then threw bombs through the windows." Mrs. Hazra paused. "I am afraid my recollection after that is somewhat scattered."
She turned to look at Meera.
The girl swallowed, and continued. "There were three bombs, one blinded me, the other was smoke, and the third was, I dunno, a regular grenade? Big boom, lots of shrapnel. Ma was hurt," she looked at them with complex eyes, "So was Gilly and Bri."
"I know first-aid, I run around a lot and get hurt a lot, so yeah I patched them up a bit and called the cops," she finished lamely. "That's pretty much it, I guess."
"Meera, I'm sorry you had to go through that. No matter what, I want you to know that you did extraordinarily, in a situation where most adults would have frozen up. I'm proud of you."
And she meant it. Always, throughout her career, Hannah has been astounded at the courage of regular people fighting without the backup of powers. This young girl is one amongst a long line of heroes, no matter her power.
"I understand how hard it must have been for you to see your mother, people that you love injured so badly. It must have been one of the worst days of your life."
Immediately, Meera shivered and clenched her fists. She turned her head away from where there was a patch of blood on her shoes.
There it is, Hannah thought.
"Sometimes," Hannah continued, "during these moments of stress, we reach deep within ourselves, and we find the strength to fix the problem we're in. Did you do something similar, Meera? Used a power you didn't know you have?"
Meera was staring at her, eyes wide. She turned to look at her mother.
"Miss Militia, I understand what you are asking my daughter. Any answer she gives can be dangerous, to her and to her family. Are you committed to this?"
"I am." Hannah replied, quietly. She looked at the others, Mr. and Mrs. Renaud. They were solemn.
"I think. It's. I'm, yeah, I suspect I'm a parahuman, yeah." Meera stuttered out.
The she took a deep breath, and shifted.
For the first time in a long time, Hannah was transfixed.
X--------------------X
Emily tapped her fingers rhythmically on the little bit of empty wooden surface on her table. Renick was looking over her report, frowning. Hannah watched them, patient.
Emily broke the silence. "A friendly Trump. A friendly Trump healer. Quite a fine new year's gift."
"And her appearance?" Renick asked.
"Problem for Image. I understand the angel comparisons are poison, especially so soon after Madison, but from what you told me she's distinct enough yes?"
"She's mostly a glowing, vaguely feminine figure. No wings. Not pure white either. A point of contention might be that she doesn't speak while in her breaker form. She can make sounds, almost musical chimes, to make conversation. Frankly my closest comparison would be Scion."
"She'll be coming in tomorrow?"
"Yes, her mother is a formidable woman. Reminded me of you. I suspect you'll like her."
Emily grunted. "Not likely. A woman like me is going to wring every single possible concession out of us and give me an ulcer to boot."
Hannah hesitated. "It's her secondary powers that seem to be more … challenging to deal with."
Emily raised an eyebrow, "More powers than you mentioned in the report? She really is a little Scion."
"She can detect capes."
"What."
"As soon as she left her breaker form, she pointed to me and said, 'You're a parahuman.' Obvious, I know, but apparently her 'links' have different properties based on who she's enhancing, and that comes with a sort of Thinker power that lets her know who's a parahuman and who isn't. I … suspect she might even spot untriggered parahumans."
Renick looked stunned, while Emily was contemplative.
"This will be Classified to L3 and above. Need-to-know only. Consider it similar to Gallant's sensing for now."
"Along with her teleportation?"
"At least until Power Testing confirms whether or not it truly is global. We're not taking her word for it."
"Will you let her take a look at you, Emily? She's going to be under your aegis. She seemed like a good kid."
"They're all good kids, until they're not. I'll thank you for not mentioning anything about my ailments to her, if you please."
"What do we do about the Empire hits?"
Emily scowled. "As soon as she signs on the dotted line, I'm requesting WEDGDG support. This is an opportunity to push a little, they've been getting a little too bold about acting covertly lately. I was suspicious about the so-called autumn of peace no matter what fucking Thomas Calvert said, and looks like I was right."
"And the Stranger in the Hashim house?"
"We have a lead there. A couple of call-ins over the last couple of days about foodstuff and clothes going missing from upscale neighbourhoods. Right by where you went today actually. Analysis suspects a new trigger, possibly homeless, possibly targeting nazis over trigger trauma.
"Challenger will be patrolling some predicted locations tonight. We'll see. Nazi or not, the cape slaughtered 8 people. Capture, bring them in, and then offer terms."
Hannah nodded. She had looked at the crime scene personally, and it was a grisly horror show. Ruthless and amoral is a bad mentality for a new trigger. The cape hunted methodically, and the death of Alabaster suggests a Trump rating of some kind. But they left the Hashims alone, so there might be hope.
"Head down and let Colin know about incoming. Brief Jennifer too, I don't trust that man to introduce a new colleague properly."
"I will. I honestly think she'll slot into the team very well."
"Yes. Refreshing to finally have a new heroic cape without any ulterior motives."
X--------------------X
Hannah winced as she stepped out of the conference room. Standing by while Emily and Mrs. Hazra was negotiating was like being grilled during your own court-martial. She suspected those two might become friends if they ever met out of work. A terrifying thought.
The newly christened Wisp followed her out. "I'll be real with you Miss Militia, don't have the slightest clue what they're banging on about in there. You said there were more people for me to meet?" She looked frazzled. Hannah sympathized, Wards signing day can be a lot to handle.
"Call me Hannah, Meera. And yes, your schedule is unfortunately very packed, which is why we started so early. You'll be meeting two officers of the PRT, who'll be letting you know what they expect from you, and giving you some idea about the distinction between them and the Protectorate. Dr. Lefèvre will have a short chat with you to decide your power testing schedule. You'll be going to Image for a preliminary inspection after that.
"Finally, to end the day on a high note, you'll be meeting with Atalanta, and some of your colleagues down in the Wards room. As Wards lead, she has been briefed on your capabilities, but it's your choice how much you want to open up to the rest of the team."
The poor girl looked overwhelmed as they walked. "Good for ya I'm a morning gal then. Sheesh. Also you bring the kids in on New Year's eve? Driving them, or well us now I guess, a little hard yeah?"
Hannah laughed. "They like being here Meera, and I hope you will, too. A small party at the Wards rec room before going home is tradition."
They came to one of the smaller, more utilitarian office rooms. A place where people worked, not just did meetings. A short, squat brick-house of a woman opened the door instantly at her knock and glared at Wisp. Inside, a tall black man was drinking coffee, looking amused.
"This is where I leave you for now, Wisp. I'll place you in the experienced hands of Sergeant Sylvie Carter and PRT strike team lead Commander Thomas Calvert."
X--------------------X
It was almost 5pm, already dark out, before Hannah got her hands on Meera again. She was surprisingly energetic, considering the day she must have had. She raised an eyebrow at the girls exuberance. Meera laughed.
"I figured out something cool at power testing – whenever I shift back, I'm pretty much completely reset back to normal. Or well, whatever's normal for me I guess, I'd be pretty upset if I lost my gains." She flexed.
Hannah tried to look appropriately wowed. "That's wonderful to hear Meera. Did they give you a Noctis classification?"
She frowned. "Not sure, what's that about?"
"It's for those of us who don't need to sleep anymore. It's an uncommon condition, some people with specialized Brute or Breaker ratings get it, and also me."
"Hmm well I don't need to sleep either, but I can. Not really liking sleep these days to be honest. Bad memories."
Hannah stared at her. Could she –
"Do you remember?"
Meera froze. "Again, not sure what you're talking about. Remember lots of things I wanna forget, you know? Anyway, I had a bit of a sensitive question."
Hannah recognized the diversion and allowed it. There's plenty of time to talk about her vision, and she didn't want to spook the girl. "Sure, let's just get into this office here."
Meera hesitated a bit.
"Uh, you know how I can tell parahumans even in civvies when I'm shifted? I can also tell their intentions towards me. In, like, a really broad sense. Like if they're my enemy or my friend, and not much more than that."
Hannah stared at her. This girl. "I see. And you have spotted someone who your power said was your enemy?"
Hannah went through a quick list of the people she would've met. She knew Nicole was in a bad mood, and Colin could come off as standoffish. Either of them could confuse a weak Thinker power into considering them an enemy.
"Uh you know the two PRT officers I met? It was the man – Calvert? He's a cape, and he really hated me, though he didn't show it. Can't lie to Wisp though."
That is a problem. A major problem. "I see. Was there anything else about him that you'd like to point out. We'll have a formal discussion later, this is just off the top of your head."
Meera frowned. "Well he was startled when I first shifted. Like, more than anyone else, even more than Director Piggot. He was kinda off the entire time I was Wisp, but he was nice after. I was kinda wary of him after that, y'know? Him being an enemy and all that. But yeah that's all I have."
Hannah sighed, and reached for her PRT phone. A quick code, sent to the Director and Head of Protectorate ENE. Possible Breach, spotted by Ward. This is going to be a long New Years. Thankfully, neither Emily nor Colin had any idea what holidays were.
"Alright Meera, we'll follow up on this later. Let's not keep Jennifer waiting, yes?"
Jennifer was juggling breakfast tacos still in their wrappers, in the break room where they were to meet. Hannah sighed. "Why do you have those out in the evening Atalanta?"
She snorted. "Hey it's not like they go to Charlie's Chocolate Factory when it's no longer morning, why can't I eat em now. This is America."
"Why the fuck would they go to Charlie's Factory. Narnia's a way better example. And it's Willy Wonka's factory ya weirdo."
"The fuck, what kinda nerd criticizes someone's metaphors? And it's Charlie's factory by the end of the movie you poser."
"Don't call me nerd ya dork."
"Stinky."
"Jock."
"GIRLS, please." Hannah had never been happier for her bandana for covering up her grin. This is a good start. "Act your age."
They both squinted at each other. Meera started first. "Aren't you supposed to graduate out of the Wards soon? Shouldn't you be more mature?"
"Girl how old are you? Shouldn't you be hosting tea parties with your cat?"
"Yo it's not polite to ask a lady her age."
"Good thing I'm not asking a lady then yeah?"
Meera tried to step on Jennifer's feet as she twirled away. Both of them burst into laughter.
Hannah sighed and grabbed them both by the shoulder. "Atalanta, please introduce the latest member of the Wards to her colleagues, and mediate any differences they may have. Wisp, please be on your best behaviour. You will be working with them for a long time, and initial impressions matter."
"Yes ma'am."
"Yes ma'am."
"Good, now go enjoy your party."
"You too, Hannah."
"Later skater."
X--------------------X
"Fucking had to be Calvert, didn't it."
"Emily please."
Colin had been quiet since the start of the meeting. "Director, I have some preliminary analysis. May I begin?"
"Go ahead."
"To start. We have been given a report, emerging from a verified Thinker power of a Ward, that PRT officer Thomas Calvert is both a parahuman and has an adversarial relationship with said Ward. We have audio-visual evidence of the only meeting between the two, which corroborate the Ward's report of the situation. PRT Officer Thomas Calvert has not yet been given a reason to respond.
"Analysis of his behaviour suggests one of three capabilities – either Thinker, Master or Stranger, in order of probabilities. As such, pursuant to Protectorate Regulation §3.1.1, possible Master/Stranger infiltration with no immediate hostilities, I have decided to place electronic bugs on his person and belongings, as well as tap his personal and PRT phones. I will require your signature to also tap into his PRT and personal computers. This will continue for at least 3 days, extending up to a week. Do you have any questions so far?"
Hannah and Emily both blinked. That was an impressively fast investigation, and the report had low enough jargon that she suspected Dragon had a hand in it.
"You have permission. Have you begun investigating Calvert's priors? I want a report on what exactly he's been doing since Ellisburg. Day by day, if possible."
"That should be doable. Do I have the authority to bring in Dragon as a personal aide?"
"You do, but this stay between the 4 of us, until we move in."
"Of course, director." He got up and walked away immediately.
"Fucking Calvert."
"Emily, please."
The infiltration has begun. But really now, who's infiltrating whom?
If you're wondering why Calvert/Coil was meeting up with our heroine it's because Emily Piggot was being petty and giving him the most annoying tasks, like chatting with the new Ward. Coil accepted because it's good information. Such a shame Io can't be precogged. Emily has never felt more vindicated in her life.
Io, the Wisp – Primary: Trump; Secondary: Shaker/Blaster – Non-Human
Links to its allies to buff them – Io the Wisp is a Fundamental of the universe, a force older than time, a wanderer from realms far beyond mortal understanding. A benevolent, cooperative force, Io bonds its strange magnetism to others so that the power of allies might be enhanced. Its motives inscrutable, its strength unimaginable, Io moves through the physical plane, the perfect expression of the mysteries of the universe. Io has a talent for making allies more effective. A powerful companion, the wisp's tether speeds allies and stops enemies. Capable of linking to and teleporting across the battlefield with an ally, Io can make a dangerous ally even deadlier.
Visiting a creepy hospital in the middle of a jungle wasn't as much of an adventure as I had hoped.
Armsmaster was beside me, deploying his gadgets and thingamajigs while muttering furiously under his breath, completely spoiling the mood.
I looked around. Molokai was fabulous, as was the rest of Hawai'i. Sadly I wasn't here for vacation, not that I could with my power. I was here to visit the old Leprosy center in the Kalaupapa National Park, which housed the Protectorate's Research Center for long-range teleporters. I was sure they had good, scientific, reasons to set up shop in possibly the most gorgeous island paradise I had ever seen, but I had my suspicions.
Can't blame them, really.
"Survey of the remnant energy discharges is complete. An all-spectrum investigation will begin soon. This does not require your immediate presence, Wisp. You are free to proceed to Test Center 2-A for your next appointment. Good day."
Armsmaster was great, I decided. There was never any ambiguity in what he says or does, nor in what he wanted from you.
More people in my life should follow his attitude, except maybe Svetlana.
X--------------------X
Test Center 2-A had the biggest and glossiest display screens I had ever seen. And all of them were showing Jennifer balancing precariously on the tip of her index finger.
"You know if you keep showing off too much, I will make the executive decision to only heal you if you're literally delimbed."
"Yeah and then Alexandria will literally descend from heaven to smite you down for breaking Wards policy."
"Excuse you, Brockton Bay is way far north of LA."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"So she won't be descending from heaven, rather rising up from hell."
"Huh yeah that makes sense."
"Both of you are insane." The bored looking PRT technician commented, listlessly typing at a terminal near the entrance.
Both of us gave him the finger in perfect synchronicity.
Unfortunately the chief director of the institute, the associate research scientists and Armsmaster chose that exact moment to walk through the door. The woman raised a single perfectly manicured eyebrow.
I coughed. "Sup Armsmaster. Thought you needed more time to check something."
"It seems the energetic emissions you leave behind to mark your teleportation point dissipate in a similar manner as certain noble gases, based on some condition we've yet to determine. Perhaps proximity, perhaps intention tied to your Thinker ability. I'm here to collect more data points."
"So," Jennifer said, thoughtfully, "you're saying Wisp leaves some sort of gaseous emission every time she leaves a place, which slowly dissipates over time." She turned to look at me. "You need more fibre in your diet."
I glared at her. "Keep yapping and you're going to join Artemis on the Moon, Atalanta."
"That would not be a good idea. While your breaker form might allow you to survive the vacuum of space with little discomfort, Atalanta has no such defences and might incur severe injuries to her eyeballs and deleterious expansion of the lungs."
I stared at him for a long moment, and looked back at Jennifer. She shrugged. "Yeah that's our Armsmaster all right."
The chief director clapped her hands. "Alright ladies, we have 2 hours before Strider is scheduled for pick up, so let us not waste any more time. We have a sequence of teleportation tests to go through, and both Wisp and Atalanta are needed for them. Please get ready."
The tests were interesting. Turns out, I was already much faster in attaching and teleporting compared to when I tested my abilities under ma's supervision. Seems the longer I spend with a hero, the faster and more natural their abilities get in usage. That had disturbing implications. I didn't want to think about how bad slipping deeper into Rikimaru's mindset can be.
For the final few tests before getting Strider-ed, they had me look at live views of various cities around the world and then check if I could "grab" the space. It felt sort of like just leaning over an edge, but not committing to the jump. I got good at it, fast. This meant I could check if I could teleport somewhere without actually knowing the area or having a trusted person there. I really was learning a lot.
The last test, however, was strange. It took them a long time to get the connection, but they eventually got a live view of Washington DC, looking out over the Memorial Pool towards Lincoln Memorial. It was unexpectedly grainy, and something about the city felt off. Too many people maybe? Or maybe the crowd looked richer, happier. I shrugged, and tried to connect to a space without any tourists. I shifted back.
"Huh. Something's peculiar."
"Are you unable to reach the location?" The scientists were looking unexpectedly tense. Were they testing some sort of anti-teleporter tech?
"No I definitely can. It just feels way far away, you know? Like, further than even the Moon. But … yeah, I got it now." I said with satisfaction as the connection firmed in my mind.
That was weird, like I had to reach through an oily film to grasp a particularly slimy eel. What is up with that? I swore to never visit DC if I could help it. The city's probably haunted.
The chief director and Armsmaster both looked stunned. Armsmaster recovered first. "Can you demonstrate? Please transfer just me, for no longer than 5 seconds, just inside that alcove over there."
The chief director looked sharply at him. "This is a possible treaty breaking violation. I cannot condone your attempt." She paused. "You are going to be doing this as a senior Protectorate Member, and only as a check to block further infringement."
"I accept." He began setting up some instruments on his armour. I looked at Jennifer, and she looked as baffled as me.
"Now."
Other than that initial weirdness, the trip was regular. Only, while I was in DC, my sense of where ma and Svetlana was faded like they were beyond that same oily filter. Some top-secret Government thing, I decided. Going to report to ma later and let her worry about it.
Strider came soon after, and I was back in the Bay.
X--------------------X
Testing my power boost was over quick. Challenger, who introduced herself to me as a grumpy middle-aged woman called Nicole, hometown 'hero' Dauntless, a couple of new Protectorate members who transferred in called Assault and Battery. I wrinkled my nose at the tastelessness of their names. One of them even fancied himself a jokester. Ugh.
Exactly as I had claimed, it made them faster, stronger and hit harder. According to the scientists, it gave everyone a Brute 3/Mover 3 rating as well as upping their nominal capabilities by 2. But only while I was attached to them, and I could only attach to one person at a time. I had a feeling I could eventually manage to link more people, but didn't give any indication of my power growing. Aunt Alina had taught me that much at least.
Finally, the part I was looking forward to the most – my healing.
Amy Dallon stood 20 feet across from me in the physiotherapy lab. The giant fans blew cold wind between us.
I drew first. "This town ain't big enough for two healers Dallon."
Amy crossed her arms. "Well then, Hazra, looks like one of us is going to have to skedaddle right out of here."
"Ain't gonna be me, partner. I've got deep roots in this place."
"Oh, you think you can just waltz into my business and call the shots?"
"I got the law on my side Dallon. And the law's got the biggest guns."
"The only law that matters is who's quicker on the draw. And ain't nobody in this town faster than my Vicky."
"We'll see about that. High noon, at the Arcadia corral. Be ready. We'll settle this once and for all."
"I was born ready Hazra. Just make sure you've put your affairs in order."
"You ain't as invincible as you think. When the dust settles, only one of us will be left standing."
The wind got stronger. A tumbleweed blew across the room between us two.
Both of us froze.
"VICKY"
"JENNIFER"
Panacea looked distracted as I healed my second pig with an amputated left foot. It regrew smoothly. "You're pouring energy into the body and forcing the cells to absorb it like blood sugar. Kinda like insulin maybe? This is fascinating but makes no sense biologically."
I chirped out a questioning beep.
Amy startled a bit and looked at the monitoring doctor and the nurse. "I mean, yeah, this looks safe. It's not pure enhancement, which might stimulate cancer growth or start endocrinal problems. It's just … energy, circling each cell in the body to prevent further damage, and producing new biomass out of nowhere to repair them. It can't improve anything, but as for healing it's about perfect."
I chimed out a burst of happiness.
X--------------------X
To my slight annoyance, neither my family nor friends were allowed to be in the audience at the press conference where I was going to be announced as a Ward. Baba was coming home and ma wanted to have some time with him to catch him up. I felt slightly hurt that she wasn't as excited, but to be fair, I wasn't all that hyped either. Atleast Svetlana said she'd record the conference so that we could laugh over it later.
My costume was fine. Svetlana was mildly enthusiastic. It was a white and electric blue lehenga, with an armoured shawl crossing my front and back. I wanted a shorter blouse to show off my abs but Image vetoed it, much to Svetlana's disappointment and ma's relief.
For the mask, my favourite part of the costume, I had a deep-purple lacy veil covering from just below my eyes and falling straight down. I liked the Scheherazade vibes it gave off. Couple of strategically placed magnets along my jaw meant I wouldn't have a wardrobe malfunction even if I was upside down for some reason. Besides, the costume can't be seen when I shift, so it's only for my regular runarounds.
Not that I could do much running in it, which was a deliberate decision, disguising my normal athletic butch civilian identity with an overly feminine, dainty healer look. I didn't enjoy playing into gender tropes, but if it kept my family safe I could live with it.
Fortunately I didn't have to answer a single question, PR still having Clockblocker shaped nightmares. Instead, I gave out a couple of happy sounding beeps as Wisp after Director Piggot introduced me, rotated my little spirits in a dazzling lightshow, and flew out.
Now, finally, after two weeks of this circus, I could go out and do the job my family entrusted me to do.
X--------------------X
To my slight surprise, my first patrol was with Challenger. Nicole was an intense woman, had an air of been-there-done-that that reminded me of ma.
"You'll be doing PR patrols later, when the tourist season starts and boardwalk isn't a frozen popsicle. Remember when you're with me, you follow my lead. In case of a conflict between my direction and console's, you go with me always. You will maintain your tether to me for the entire period unless I explicitly ask you to break it. I do not expect trouble, but if there is, prioritise evacuating civilians over healing them in-place or fighting back. Are these instructions clear?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Shift now, and let's move."
The patrol took me around the commercial district and towards the warehouses where the bulk of the frozen food supply of the city is stored and transported. Lots of big rigs, food tankers and refrigerated trucks on the road. To my amusement, Challenger drove her motorbike in and around them like a complete madwoman, the giant axe and rifle on the side of her bike barely missing the passing vehicles.
We had just crossed the big chain store warehouses and moved into the long-term storages when I felt three parahumans inside a locked-down storehouse. I made one of my pre-planned beeps, and then three more. Armsmaster's translation software inside Challenger's headset should let her know what I meant. She turned instantly, her front wheel lifting off the ground and the back burning rubber and headed straight for the storehouse. She revved the engine loud enough to wake the dead.
There was no negotiation. One of the top windows shattered, and a chunk of ice six feet long flashed towards me, hitting me in the arm and tearing it off.
I stumbled in the air, almost breaking the tether, before recalling the lost energy of my arm and recreating it. I turned to the attacker and crossed my arms, glaring at him. As if I could be hurt by something so mundane as a physical block of ice.
Before either of us could move, there was an explosive report and the man stumbled and fell from the window, bloodied and broken. Challenger had her rifle in her hands and spoke for the first time since the engagement.
"Console, elements of Dawnfire sighted at 8 Shephard Drive. Fired upon Wisp. One member down. Moving to engage."
"Copy Challenger. Advise – is Wisp injured?"
"Negative. Moving in now."
The inside of the warehouse was full of large, chilled drums covered in tarps. I couldn't really smell while shifted, but I could guess at the component elements. Paint thinner? Insect Repellent? I got Challenger's attention and pointed at the manager's office on the third floor.
She didn't hesitate and threw her axe straight through the walls. I looked at her, wide-eyed. That could've bisected someone if it hit. A shameful reminder of my first kill as Riki.
Suddenly, oily chains leapt out of the shadow surrounding Challenger, wrapped around her thighs and started pulling. I overcharged my tether in response, and Challenger didn't even bother to look at the chains. She took her gun and fired again at the office, the loud explosive sound in the closed storehouse feeling like an earthquake. The chains dissolved, and I felt blood, a lot of blood.
"We surrender," yelled out a woman, desperate. "Please, we surrender, please."
I moved towards the office, cautiously, remembering the last time someone tried to surrender to me.
I needn't have bothered. There was a short, well-built man in biker leathers, lying on the floor, both his legs missing from beneath the knee. Challenger's rifle really was a cannon. The woman was frantically trying to tie a tourniquet around his thigh. She was sobbing. The man was turning so white he could've been albino.
There was thunk as Challenger leapt onto the metal floor. She peeked in, and picked up her axe from where it had broken a thick oak desk in half. I chimed a 'Heal?' beep at her. She thought about it and shook her head.
Then she got down, shoved the woman roughly away, and took out some tinkertech compression bandage and blood clotter and applied it none too gently to the shaking man.
"Tether long enough for you to check the man outside?"
I thought about it, and chirped an affirmation.
"Alright go see if the fucker's still alive. If he's dying you have my permission to break tether and stabilize him."
I nodded and went outside. The man who shot at me was lying leaning against the outside door. He was breathing heavily, his front covered in glass shards. I looked at his legs and sighed, there was no blood, but his right knee was bent in completely the wrong way, his feet almost touching his groin.
Eh, this wouldn't kill him. I went back to Challenger and waited for the PRT. The other woman was sitting on the ground next to the delimbed man, looking at the blood on her hands, shaking.
I felt nothing at all.
X--------------------X
The next morning, the last weekday before school restarted, Miss Militia pulled me into an interrogation room after I checked in. She looked sombre.
"Meera, you said the Hashims were friends of your family, yes?"
I felt ice grip my heart. "Yeah more so with the kids, but yeah we run in the same circles, you know how it is."
"We were transferring the Hashims from PRT Civilian Defence to Local Police Witness Protection when suspected Empire hitmen assaulted them. Unfortunately, there weren't any Protectorate guard and –"
"What happened, Hannah?"
She winced. "The elder son, Khalid, and Amina Hashim were both shot and killed. The younger son Omar was badly injured, but Panacea was available at Brockton General and healed him. Zainab was unhurt, except from minor sprains."
My voice was cold. "I see. Are the gangers who attacked still alive? Was there Empire cape support?"
"They took fire and injuries, but they managed to get everyone away from the responding forces. They have Othala to heal up anyone who survived. We don't suspect cape support, but it's possible Stormtiger was covertly present based on how return fire struggled to hit them.
"I'm sorry, Meera. I know how much this hurts. You don't have to work today, you should go back home to your family. We'll be stepping up defences of all the families who were targeted on Christmas.
"I swear to you, your family will not be harmed, not while I still breathe."
My heart was ice, and my voice was steel. "Thank you, Hannah. Could I please spend a few minutes here, alone?"
Her voice was soft. "Of course. This is an unmonitored room. Nobody will come in unless you ask. You can leave whenever, I'll let the Director know."
She took my hand and squeezed it gently, then left, closing the door behind her.
Khalid, I thought, oh sweet Khalid. With his loud laughs and terrible jokes. He will never waggle his eyebrows in the way that made Svetlana laugh. Never again do the debke with his brother. Never again make outrageous innuendos with me to make Svetlana jealous. A good life, an honest life. Gone. No matter my power, no matter how much I sacrificed with Riki, I cannot bring him back.
No, if they want to come for me and mine, I will hit them back a hundred times harder. I will maim, I will mutilate, I will make sure that the Empire burns.
As I swore my oath, a red shard broke off from a Mad Moon.
It splintered within my mind.
Demons laughed.
Not very happy with the tone of this chapter. Turns out I'm not as good at writing humour as I thought. Gave up and published it.
Anyway, all the light-hearted shenanigans are over, now we're heading into the meat.
Strygwyr, the Bloodseeker – Primary: Striker; Secondary: Thinker/Brute/Trump – Human
Tracks and chases down his enemies, the lower their health the faster his speed - Bloodseeker forces difficult decisions on his enemies. Able to drive his foes to a retreat by bathing a large area with a damaging ritual that outright cancels powers, his gruesome ultimate power asks his opponents to hold still, or die.
I crouched low in the shadow of two wrecked vans, my face pressed against a storm drain. Carefully, I reached out and licked the metal grate. Rust, muddy rainwater, insect slurry, dead plant matter … and there – the faintest taste of iron and copper. Blood. The Flayed Ones gibbered in my mind, and knowledge bloomed.
I smiled, looked South-southwest to where my quarry still dawdled, slowly healing. Not slow enough. Blood called to blood.
I crawled out, my perception speeding up, my blood beginning to boil. The ratty hoodie I was wearing should've provided no defence against the cold, and yet I felt feverishly hot. I wanted to move, to open their veins, to make them haemorrhage and dance in their blood, offering their lives to the Twins.
I paused. Closing my eyes, I lifted my wrist to my mouth and bit down hard. No, I am not the Bloodseeker, high priestess of Bloody Gods from a realm incomprehensibly far away. I am Meera. Even though the voices of the Twins whisper in my ears sometimes. Even though I look at humans, and I see sacrifices. No, I am strong. I will kill my targets, and forget Strygwyr ever existed.
I headed home.
Astronomers and Thinkers worldwide noted the full moon appearing especially red that night. An out of season blood moon. They paid no further attention.
X--------------------X
Baba wrapped me in his arms as I got in. "Hey, baba." I forced out from under his hug, my voice raspy, somehow thirsty.
"Come come, did you find your friends, did you have a good time, did you get the charcoal?"
I rolled my eyes and dropped the small bag of charcoal on top of his feet, making him yelp good-naturedly. My father was a big man, always with a smile and a pat on the head, an endless font of made-up stories. The flowing water to ma's rock. I felt myself relax, the whispers getting further and further away as I listened to him babble.
Wait. What was – "What was that baba?"
"Oh an old friend of your mothers' from back home is here. A silly little man, I knew him back in the day of course. Retired now, probably doesn't know what to do with himself anymore hah."
I stared at him. His smile didn't waver. "Go go fresh up, we'll be in the map room with sweets and lassi."
I was still unused to this house, missing the coziness of the home I grew up in. Gilly and Bri had done their best to fix up their second home for us, but there are no memories here. No marks where I and Svetlana ran full tilt into the drywall, no stains where I decided to paint the corridor with ma's precious mehndi. Perhaps, in the fullness of time, I would come to love this box of brick and mortar, but not yet. Not while my vengeance remains unfulfilled.
I cleaned up, and came back to where ma and baba were chatting amiably with a bald, slightly chubby, middle-aged man. He was … thoroughly ordinary. Nothing about him stood out. His voice was unexceptional, his manners benign, his smile and gait pedestrian. I wanted to just ignore him and go for the plates stacked with sweets.
The whispers rose to a scream in my mind, and I jerked to a stop. I stared at the man, my eyes narrowed, dangerous.
He laughed. "You were right, Isha-didi. Your girl really is something special. Hello there Meera, I am Kishore, a one-time subordinate of your mother."
Suddenly the man, Kishore, was more present, now actually in the room. The constant pressure on my mind trying to make me ignore him vanished. My hackles rose, I leaned forward, ready to pull the blood out his body like a cloak. The man raised his hands in surrender. Ma looked on, nodding in approval.
"Good instincts," she said, "but you shall have to work on deliberate detection without relying on external input. Strangers will not wait around for you to pierce their veil."
"Now, if you will, Kishore, we have matters to discuss." She gestured at me to sit at the laminated table.
As soon as I did, Kishore lent forward and placed a hand on the table. In a fraction of a second, the table became the only thing in existence, the rest of the world darkening to a void.
I almost leapt back in alarm, but soon after, ma, baba and Kishore also appeared, sitting at the table. Kishore was frowning. "It is rather interesting," he said, "that I do not have to include you to the durbar Meera. You were already here as soon as I created it."
At my questioning look and mother's nod, he explained. "This is a secure place. No power, past or future, can look into what we discuss, what decisions we come to. No power can force us to recall what we talked about here. We are safe, for now."
"You're Protectorate? Rogue?"
Kishore laughed. "No my child, I am of no organization at all. Though, I suppose I do work with some. Tell me, little one, have you heard of the Thanda?"
My eyes widened. The cold capes of the Indian subcontinent, the ones who nobody knows, no cape identity, slipping through life as normal, and taking out threats to the region before anybody hears of them. As opposed to the Garama, the hot capes, the superstars, the ones with fans and Bollywood movies, the apples of the public eye. Wait.
"Durbar? You're Court, I've read rumours about you on cape-wiki.com. I thought the Thanda don't exist on any document."
He smiled. "I am the interface, the point of contact. I could make it so nobody can ever find me, but that defeats the purpose of my work does it not?"
I looked at ma. "Ma, not to be crass, how in the hell did you get a member of the Thanda in our house?"
She looked at me crossly. "You must maintain decorum in your language Meera. As for your question, like he said, Kishore was an employee of mine, back when I was working for the Indian Government."
I squinted at her. "And what were you doing the Indian Government, ma? And is it even legal for the Thanda to operate here in the US?"
"You will be told when you need to know, and not until then. What the government does not know will not bother them. He is not the only one to come.
"There are some powerful, hidden global bodies Meera, who are almost certainly already aware of Kishore's presence here. If they have not interfered, then we have their tacit permission. The Protectorate and the PRT is not my concern."
"Ma, I'm part of that group. Shouldn't it be my concern?"
She gave me a look, and I stopped complaining out loud.
"Let us begin. Meera, please tell us what you have found about the gangmembers who killed poor Khalid and Amina, and what you intend to do about them."
I hesitated, looked at Kishore. "Does he –"
"He is fully aware. Please continue."
I took a deep breath, and started to explain my plans.
X--------------------X
My cloak was red, red enough that the splashed arterial blood of the man in front of me didn't show up on it at all.
Kishore had touched the cape, making it, and me, harder to notice out of the corner of someone's eyes. I'm not Riki, but I don't need to be. The Bloodseeker has their own haunts. The smell of meat, wet and bloody, was a map letting me navigate the city invisibly without thought or sight.
I stood outside the small two-storey apartment complex, having drained all the lookouts outside. This wasn't the Empire's most secure stash house. This wasn't where one of the Hashim's killers were, I was here to spoil the search. No capes. Ma's words were exact, there must never be a line between your work and your cause. Dead gangers, no connection to any specific job, just to ruin the Empire's day.
I leant into my Gods-given knowledge, welcoming the whispers in. I wielded the blood like a paintbrush, drew a giant eye over the entire block, the blood splashing inaudibly on the roofs. I closed my eyes, red-shrouded peaks growing distinct in my mind. I felt my skin rippling open, my tongue making alien sounds, the air around me growing hotter, more pungent. My heart beat once, twice and in the third beat, the ritual completed.
From inside the apartments, screams.
The Flayed Ones smiled, satiated.
I lay prone over a low angled rooftop, hidden in the shadows between an AC vent and an old TV dish. Below me, three homeless people gossiped. They had just stepped out of a shelter providing hot food and medications, but still seemed uneasy. I leant in, my biology enhanced enough to pick out a few words here and there.
" … muerto de miedo … … acojonada …"
"… sangre, sangrehelada …"
To my shame, my Spanish was fairly terrible. Svetlana and Carrie had tried tutoring, but the language always felt like it was slipping through my mind. They were talking about something being scary? Someone dying of fear, or a heart attack? Might be the result of my work over the last two nights. Might be someone else. Capes sprout in this city like mushrooms.
And mushrooms only grow on dead things.
Ma's plans sounded simple, but execution is complicated. Counter-insurgency, as perfected by the British in Malaya, requires three distinct operations, she told you, with Uncle Aleksandr nodding along. Clear, Hold and Build. You will Clear the Nazis, the Protectorate will Hold, preventing other gangs from moving in, and we will Build, bringing industry and work to the town.
So now I'm out here, cleaning more filth from the cities. Sometimes literally, with Razzil potions melting drugs and guns and skin in warehouse after warehouse.
Tonight though, tonight would be special. Aunt Alina and ma had looked through all my reports of where the Hashim's killers had scattered, and they found a nexus. Tonight, I will offer the Flayed Ones cape blood.
I was stronger, this night. One of my targets was weaker, close to death. The nearness of his demise almost sending me into a frenzy.
But I must be calm, calm. The Twins' work demanded dexterity, the promise of pain requires subtlety. I circled the building, checking out the lookouts, noting how often they responded. They were wary now, my games finally getting to them. Still, there was little sophistication. They used no codes, their responses were lackadaisical, getting through the motions. They expected little trouble tonight, considering who were inside. My stomach growled in anticipation.
Gilly had come through with raw intelligence from the ground, and Bri taught me how to read it. Hookwolf, the Empire's strongest enforcer, was out of town negotiating with other neo-nazi groups south of Boston. His lieutenants, however, were making a show of force in response to blatant attacks on their territory. They suspected a new trigger, hot-headed and independent. They were planning, gearing up to make an example. I was here, then, to grant them their opportunity.
I won't have much time for setup, this will be a brawl, and I will need to be seen. Make the survivors think it's Riki, make them never have a peaceful nights' sleep for the rest of their lives. My muscles contracted, I sped up and moved, a blur to the eye.
My blades went for the necks and the thighs, the thick arterial blood spray almost distracting. I didn't wait for them to die, pulling out their essence before they even hit the ground. One, two, three, four and five, done. I have less than a minute before check-in. Plenty of time. The ritual didn't take as long as it did the first time, the Twins chomping for their share of the action, almost anxious.
There was a sound as the ritual completed, and before the screaming began. I thought it was disgusting the first time I heard it – a deep bone-rattling squelch, moist and sticky somehow. Now though, I was coming to enjoy it, the noise giving me purpose. Maybe worshipping the Flayed Ones had some sense to it.
I leapt in through an open skylight, blades gleaming and thirsty.
I found my first group of nazis splayed across a table, the cards splattered with blood. They were moaning, praying to the wrong god for salvation. I took a quick look at the cuts and determined two who would live, the cuts mostly on their flesh, no veins or arteries opened. I sliced up the others, their blood covering me like a blanket, delicious and comfortable.
In the center room, a tall, muscular man stood alert, blood from his scalp covering his face, cuts across his pecs and back surely painful, but not debilitating. Others lay along the floor, their equipment discarded. He saw me and raised his gun immediately. I could've dodged or blocked, but I wanted a show, so I walked forward provocatively, arms spread wide.
He fired twice, three times, nailing me in the face with every shot. My eyes were pulverized, half my skull blown away, my blood blooming like a flower. The remnants of my face smiled. I knelt and sliced a woman by my feet in two. Her blood joined the coating around me, while I healed back, immaculate once more.
The nazi didn't despair or give up, for all the good it did him. Actually, maybe letting him live is a good idea, let them think I was insane, that I was vulnerable. My face wasn't even Meera's right now. I dashed into him, so close it was almost intimate. My hands circled around his back, and before he could yell, my blades moved into the gap between the C6 and C7 vertebra, pulling the spinal fluid out. He would never walk again, but he would breathe, and speak. That's all I needed him for. I moved on.
Inside the inner chamber, the most defended place in the house, were six people. A bare chested man, covered in nazi iconography, was groggily getting up to his feet, moving his arms awkwardly expecting something to happen. A woman, her face covered in a metal mask, flexing her arms over and over again, blood dribbling from scars all across her chest and legs. Stormtiger and Cricket. The two capes. Their powers still disabled by my blood rite. I disregarded the others. They were dead meat anyway.
I spoke out loud, my voice low and scratchy, like a campy vampire from a 20s movie. "I claim your blood," I giggled, while the two capes startled, "I'll drain you dry. Your veins, run empty." I enjoyed the disrespect.
Cricket vaulted over the table towards me. As fast as I was, she still almost got me. A respectable opponent. But her fighting prowess was weakend, her limbs not responding to her mind. She opened her mouth, and nothing happened. She looked confused. I leant in, my face close to hers. She jerked back, her kamas opening my throat as she sideflipped towards Stormtiger, who was still dizzy and dry-heaving.
I tittered, and sliced the shaking man to my left through the heart as I walked on. My throat healed. I waited, for Cricket to try something, a gun, a phone-call, anything to give her blood some flavour. But no, she crouched, protectively, over Stormtiger. I sighed, and accelerated. Dodged a hair's breadth under her slice and rammed my shoulder into her back. She tumbled away. Now I crouched on Stormtiger, with a wide grin on my face.
Cricket's eyes widened, and she jumped towards me. But she was weakened, slow, and inevitably too late, as my blades sliced through meat and bone.
Cricket watched in horror as the top of Stormtiger's head, brains and all, went left, and his jaw and neck went right. His torso collapsed downward, on my feet. She opened her mouth in a silent howl, and the very air responded. A sharp, high-pitched noise exploded from her, making the gangers who still remained alive scream and throw up. She came at me, kamas raised high, no self-preservation left, fury overtaking her.
Now, finally, the fight was approaching even. Her movement was smoother, her muscles, despite being almost drained dry, working unnaturally well. There was no waste in her actions, all she wanted was me dead and her power and self was bent to that will. I could've watched her dance forever, truly a fit priestess for the Flayed Ones, but alas, my vengeance looms above all.
I moved closer, deliberately making a wide sweeping move with my blades, my heart open to her. She accepted the bait, knowing it would leave her open to my counterstroke, looking only to kill. Her kamas sliced through my rib cage, cutting apart my heart and lungs, snagging on my spine. I laughed, lips close enough to kiss her, and drove my blades through the sides of her stomach, up in to her lungs, and cut off her spine.
She froze, impaled on my blades, desperately hoping for me to draw my last breath. I stepped back, her kamas being pulled by my ribs from her nerveless fingers. She collapsed, her breath hitching. I stood over her, bloody and grinning, as she breathed her last, gasping and wheezing and fighting fruitlessly till the end.
Her blood rose up, and I was pristine again.
I looked around the room. A man and a woman, looking more like accountants than gangers, remained alive. They looked at me, eyes dull in fear and pain, as I walked up. They were dying, I saw, and that wasn't to be. I leaned in, and the shroud of blood around me flowed into them, healing them to perfect health. They were possibly now healthier than they had ever been in their lives, I thought with amusement.
I raised a finger to my lips, pulled Kishore's cloak tightly around me, and moved. Disappearing into the house. Killing any left alive, other than the ones I had already chosen to spare, the ones who would carry my story.
Oh, and what a story it is to be.
The Twins, you could tell, were pleased.
X--------------------X
I woke up the next morning, weak and feverish. I had been throwing up all night, after getting back. Svetlana had come over, and held me close, cleaning my hair and clothes over and over again. Even now, she was sprawled on the bed, our arms interlocked.
It felt worse than Riki somehow, my body rejecting the changes the Flayed Ones made to it, even as my mind processed the events. I wasn't quite as shellshocked, I knew what I was going into better, but my muscles, and blood, disagreed. I cleaned up and walked downstairs gently, taking care not to wake Svetlana up.
"First day of school is cancelled, Meera, you can go back to bed." Ma was up, reading the papers, while baba was watching the local news.
"What's going on ma?" Gang fights shutting down the city had gotten lesser over the years. Then again, the city had never had to deal with me before.
Ma smiled. "Empire took the bait. The Dockside is burning."
"WHAT?"
"That is their recruiting pool, Meera. Hardworking men and women, unable to get jobs through no fault of their own? That is where Empire hunts, giving people enemies they can be aimed towards. Anyone who is not white, anyone who does not present as straight, or able-bodied.
"Now, they think those people are harbouring the cape who has been slaughtering them. So they turn on the largest population block of the city, cutting off their ground power, breaking their propaganda." She looked triumphant.
I looked at her in dawning horror. "Ma, there are thousands of people living there, tens of thousands. Winslow is there. Empire kills people in their rampages."
"For every one of us they kill, we will kill twenty of them. They cannot sustain these losses. They have no more base, their upper class supporters will not be in the streets throwing Molotov cocktails. They –"
"Goddamit ma, it's not us they're killing now are they? It's always easier to sacrifice people, when they're not our people."
Ma's eyes were cold. "Need I remind you of why we started our war? About our house, about the Hashims, newly dead and buried?"
I stomped my feet, frustrated. "Ma it is so easy to choose who we destroy to kill our enemy, when we are not losing our livelihoods and homes. If someone burnt down our house just to advance some random agenda, won't we do to them what we're doing to the Empire now?
"We are making so many enemies, even if they don't yet know we are their enemies. What is the point of my power, if I cannot protect everyone who matters?"
Ma's eyes softened. "Meera, my love, you cannot have a bloodless war. I learned that that lesson a long time ago. The most you can do is keep those you love safe, and push your losses to those far from you. It is cruel, and callous, but it will save you much heartache."
"I cannot accept that ma, I just cannot. After the war, how will I look at those people in face, and say I did my best to save you?"
She looked sad. "You will tell them that they were necessary sacrifices, and that the present we have built is better than the future they would have had. I'm sorry, Meera." Her gaze was far away. Baba came up and put his arms around her.
I got up and walked away.
There must be a better path. I will find it. I will save everyone.
A small shard of light pulsed gently in my mind.
The futures opened to me.
Fractals of possibility danced.
This chapter was real bloody. If you get the urge to sacrifice your neighbours to eldritch gods, please do not tell the cops about me.
And our first schism with the family! Surely this will all end well.
Nerif, the Oracle – Primary: Thinker; Secondary: Master/Trump – Non-Human
Predicting and shaping the future, alters the fates of heroes with his buffs and nukes – From the first, Nerif's prophecies were unusual. They seemed not merely to portend the future, but to shape it. The weird soothsayer croaked out advice no one had requested, and suddenly people found themselves immersed in conflicts with newfound enemies. By carefully combining his intricate abilities, Oracle controls the destinies of both friend and foe. Shrouding threatened allies with his false promise, he can grant an hour of absolute protection to destroy an enemy, or even reverse a grisly fate.
Gregor's past was unbound. How curious.
I leaned in and touched his upper arm, tracing the brand on him. Potentialities lay bare.
A man swims in a trench, touching two rock outcroppings. The water is clear and cold. The man is happy.
"G-2-7-0-1" A man cleans and guts a giant seal. His daughter will eat well tonight. The man is fulfilled.
"F-0-1-1-4" A man is dying. His breath is rotting. Wet gangrene has carved him up. His daughter sobs. The man is despairing.
"T-1-7-0-5" A man is given a choice. He looks at his daughter. He drinks the potion. The man is no more.
"J-0-0-0-9" A girl dies, alone.
The three capes stumbled away, holding their ears, the hotel room ringing from my voices.
Faultline recovers first. "What … what was that? What are those codes? I couldn't make them out, you were speaking them all simultaneously."
I ignored her, looking at Gregor the snail and his disrupted, unfinished body. At what he lost to gain it. "Eir Valdemarsdóttir was her name," I told him, my voice echoing. "You miss her touch, her whistles as she guided you home, her carvings as she remembered her mother. You miss her so."
Gregor stared at me, his face full of pain. "Please. Please, I do not understand of what you speak."
Faultline and Newter stared at me, hints of anger beginning to show on their face.
"Patience, VALDEMAR/GREGOR, will grant understanding."
He shook his head, "What did you call me?"
I stood up and stretched to my full height, my head brushing the 9 foot ceiling. Before I could speak up, the future fractured.
A gun, from a portal in the air, killing everyone in the room. Denied. An explosion, perfectly constructed to emit the symptoms of gas buildup. Denied again. A raid, from Empire cape forces told their killer was here. Lung, told of an insult in the past, paying a visit. Alexandria, hunting for an apocalyptic Master, splattering all our heads. A news story, denouncing the crew as babykilling monsters. A single ordinary woman, implacable and unstoppable, demolishing every single cape in the city on her way to us. A phone, with an open video call, dropped in front of Mama Mathers. A note, to Ciara the Fairy Queen, asking her to claim – I stopped, and denied all of her realities, and constructed my own Path. She stumbled.
In that moment of false promise, an astral orb flashed out, tearing through timelines, disrupting the parasite's connection to her body. I make an edict, unbreakable. Her fate, for an hour, is to be mundane. None may touch her, and she may touch none. I smiled, and let ordinary fate resume again.
Faultline's crew stood ready, having noticed nothing.
"Cauldron," I told Faultline, "is your quarry. Be wary, for as you are now, you are no threat to those who control the world. You need one who can create her own."
I pointed to a folder that had fallen out of her bag, hanging from the back of a chair. I smiled again. "Philadelphia looks good, this time of the year."
Faultline frowned but before she could speak, Newter interjected. "Alright enough of the cryptic bullshit. You're a fucking carny, promising shit that we can never prove. Give us something real. Give us a bite. What the fuck did you call Gregor?"
He really was angry, I noted. Fair. I turned to face Gregor.
"Valdemar Snorrason, fisherman, faithkeeper, father, is dead. Gregor is alive. Do not chase phantoms, Gregor, for they are vicious when cornered."
Newter looked between me and Gregor, still angry, tail twitching. Gregor stood apart, eyes closed, face full of pain. "Eir. Was she … is she …"
I said nothing, face promising neither truth nor lies.
"Thank you." He said in a whisper. "Pardon me," he spoke to his teammates, and walked out of the hotel room.
Faultline looked at me, her calmly professional façade back on. "You have given us two names, a code and a location. If any one of them pan out, we will consider your part of the contract to be discharged. We will be on retainer for two jobs, with the right of refusal. Is this agreeable to you?"
"It is."
"Then I thank you for your time. Good day."
Newter still looked disgruntled but let me leave without harassment. "Fake-ass prophet," I heard him mumble as I left. I grinned. Meera would've loved his attitude.
People looked away from my giant form as I strode into the hotel lobby, heading for a table in the corner. A woman in an immaculate business suit sat there, a cup in hand, idly browsing through a paperback. She didn't look up as I walked over.
"May I?" I was perfectly polite, each syllable echoing in precise metronome.
She looked at me and gestured at the chair opposite her. I picked up a fedora from the seat and placed it on the table between us, covering a napkin with some writing on it. Both of us sat in silence, for a bit.
"How long?"
"An hour, here in this city. 24, if you portal out."
She turned a page. "I accept your rebuke. Build your anchors. We will not interfere."
"And Faultline?"
"She has her role."
"Very well. Though you really should prepare more," I said with some amusement, "for outside context problems."
She inclined her head minutely, and went back to her book. I noted its title, The Oracle At Stoneleigh Court.
What a terrifying woman, I thought, as I walked out.
X--------------------X
I had told myself firmly I was not going to cry. This is not my first argument with ma, nor will it be the last. Breaking into furious tears helps nobody.
It didn't work.
My throat felt raw, the shouting having inflamed something. My eyes were wrung out, ribs aching from holding in sobs. I have seen the path I have to take, but walking it is oh so hard.
Ma held me close, her arms around my neck, my face buried in her shoulder.
"I cannot do this without you ma," I whispered, broken, "please don't make me choose that road. But if you make me I will. I will."
Ma squeezed me tighter. A silent surrender.
X--------------------X
"I understand, ma'am. I accept your sanctions, but an appearance won't be just PR, it would be actual tangible help. Without major Protectorate elements present, how can this be seen as a provocation?"
"You are attributing a logical response to an emotional outcry, Wisp. You think the Empire cares about game theory when they strike at unarmed and uninvolved people? They are hurting, and like all baser animals, they want to hurt back."
"Ma'am, again, this doesn't have to be a fully-sanctioned official PRT-ENE response," frustration leaking into my tone, "this can just be one non-violent Ward trying to help out her city. I'm sure PR can spin it into a good enough story."
Director Piggot raised her eyebrows, "Are you dictating Image policy now, Wisp? Do you wish to change your deployment category?"
"No ma'am. I apologize for overstepping. I'm just … frustrated."
She looked at me straight. There is never a single moment of weakness in the woman. Her decisions were always final, no room for misinterpretation. I admired that about her. Possibly the only reason why she and Armsmaster worked so well, despite their interpersonal antipathy.
"You will be given specific crisis centres you can visit. You can choose the order in the field. You will have a Protectorate quick response element with you. You will prioritise stabilization, over full healing of anyone. You will leave immediately if any hostile cape is sighted. You will withdraw to PRT defence if you suspect gang members among the injured. They will still be treated, but only under supervision. You will make contact with and support any civilian leaders in the field, but you are ultimately under PRT guidance.
"Are you capable of working under these rules?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good. Dismissed."
Velocity somehow managed to make lounging look sexy. As soon as I stepped into the motor vehicle pool, he left his easy parade rest and seemed to almost teleport by my side. His bearing was, in some undefinable way, straight out of boot camp.
"Wisp." Serious tone.
"Velocity. Vello – citty. Vel – ocity? Man that's a real handful of a name ya know?"
"No it isn't."
"Ok let's shorten it a bit yeah? Can't be taking too long to call you out in the field. You don't mind if I called you 'itty' right?"
"Yes. Yes, I do mind."
"Alright itty let's get to the city and save some pretties!"
He turned and vanished into the road.
"Perfect." I turned to our PRT accompaniment. "Do you have a copy of our acceptable crisis centres? I want to start from outside in."
I pointed to two camps. Purity had strafed a small building complex, crushing power poles and breaking into the sewers. Lots of injuries, few fatalities.
The team lead, his name tag reading 'Giveni,' frowned. "That's close to or overlapping suspected ABB territory. Might be dangerous."
I agreed. My steps were clear. "Yes, and there are possible ABB members mixed among the civilians too. Which is why we start there, showing we have no animus with gangmembers, and then move further away, preventing any temptation of forcing us. This will let us avoid any ambushes."
He nodded, "I will need to clear this with upstairs but I see no reason, in principle, to oppose. You will be following my lead in the field, yes?"
I nodded back.
The operation started.
X--------------------X
There were too many people per triage tent. People with crush injuries, lacerations and fractures placed together with people suffering traumatic brain/spinal cord injuries and amputations. A complete mess.
I took charge.
I landed in the middle of the camp, my glowing form making everyone look up with instinctive awe. A series of soft, reassuring beeps calmed down the patients and their families clustered around, while the first responders looked relieved.
I shifted back, and walked to the EMT who seemed to be in charge. "How are patients being triaged? Which tents have the most life-threatening injuries?" PRT responders started to flood into the camp as I spoke.
The doctor looked at me tiredly. "Honestly, the organization here is pitiful. We don't have the equipment to move people once they've been triaged, and evacuation to St. Trina's is out of the question for now. First Aid and Basic Life Support is all we've done. We're running short on AEDs too."
"Alright, I'm here and ready to help, we won't need any more defibs. But we need to implement some basic classification if we don't want people to die while I'm healing sprains."
"There's able-bodied people here, but getting them to help out is not a responsibility I have, unfortunately. Nor do I have the power to."
"Lemme deal with that yeah, you start triaging everyone."
I walked up to three people lounging about nervously in front of one of the tents. Two women and a man, young, maybe about my sisters' age.
"You lot, get busy. I need a survey of injuries of the folks inside all the tents on this side. Chop chop."
One of the women glared at me. "Not your fucking handyman bitch."
"Shut the fuck up and do as I say. Not gonna repeat myself."
I turned around and walked away, my eyes cold. Behind me, I could hear grumbling as they moved into the tent. I sighed, and repeated the procedure with the second and third lines of tents.
Finally, I had a reasonable queue I could start working on. The doctors and PRT would be providing additional help around me.
I looked at the woman, Choi, who had snarked at me earlier. "Get your ganger friends to make sure people stay in line. Let 'em know I'll get to every single person here if it's the last thing I do. I can't speak when I'm shifted, so I won't have time to give out instructions."
She frowned at me. "You think all Asians are the same? That all of us are fucking ABB? Fuck you."
"Choi, buddy, don't bullshit a bullshitter yeah?"
A older, red-faced doctor holding onto a bunch of saline bags, sniffed loudly. "I'd expect a Ward to behave with some sort of decorum. What kind of language are they teaching you kids these days?"
"Eat my entire ass big man."
Choi snorted out a laugh at that, and the atmosphere relaxed a bit. I grinned, and shifted.
I was done in less than an hour. I looked around satisfied, all around people were happy and hugging their relatives. Things were good. Choi and her sister Seo came up to me.
"Is there a catch to this? We don't get you fucking heroes being all over our business any other time. We still don't have power or heating in the fucking cold."
I huffed. "This is my city as much as it is yours." I gestured at all the folks slowly starting to leave. "They are my people as much as they are yours."
"Can you fix the cables then with your power, it looked like fucking electricity, just slide into the cables or something."
"Choi-unni please stop antagonizing the nice hero."
I laughed. "Nah don't worry I prefer people speaking to me straight. Sorry Choi, my power only works on living matter. I could maybe supercharge a cable but it'll stop working as soon as I leave." I shook my head. "I'll contact the Protectorate to make sure heating and power is prioritized, but they are kinda shaky about deploying crew to areas with active trouble y'know?"
Choi looked thoughtful. "And if the area is completely calm? No ABB, nobody fucking around?"
"Then I'm sure the power companies are going to get off their ass, if only 'cause I'll be yelling at them."
She nodded. "You're okay kid. I'll bet you last a couple of months 'fore the heroes ruin you."
"Yeah I'll take ya up on that bet. Try not to get eaten by Lung till then."
Seo came up to me and hugged me tightly. Then turned and ran away, her face bright red.
I raised an eyebrow, while Choi rolled her eyes. A nod of mutual respect, and we turned and walked away.
Velocity appeared by my side out of nowhere. "Do you have a preference as to which direction we're moving next?"
I did, and I said so. He moved away to handle the logistics.
I looked towards the ocean. The golden Path beckoned.
My anchor awaited.
X--------------------X
The next camp was surprisingly well-organized. A lot of burn victims, and slashing injuries. I saw blood bank vans, and doctors treating correctly triaged people. People were moving with purpose, very little chaos. The dockworkers had a reputation for self-sufficiency according to ma, and it seemed to be well-earned.
I floated over to the medical area, my glowing form drawing glances, but there was little excited awe as in the last camp. These people seemed more tired. I landed next to the group of people who looked be in charge, and chimed out a welcome.
The doctor lady looked my angelic form up and down, and reached out a hand. "Thank you for coming Wisp. I am Dr. Panatier, of the Brockton Bay Emergency Medical Response Team. This is Mr. Hebert, representing the Dockworker's Association, and this is Mr. Demichelis, from the local Houseowner's Association. I assume you're here officially?"
I shifted back, shaking her hand and nodding to the two men. They seemed slightly surprised by my changing form. "I'm here as part of a delegation from the PRT, yes. The rest of the team, as well as Velocity are moving in and getting set up. I'm just here to heal."
"I've looked at your PRT bulletin. Fairly similar to Panacea in effect, though your actual treatment mechanism is different, yes?"
"Ayup."
"Thank you. As you can tell, the medical tents are fairly empty because of the lack of stretchers to move people into them. I would prefer if you started here, and then moved to where the rest of the injured are. Treat them in-place. I'm sure Mr. Hebert and Mr. Demichelis can guide you to them."
The tall, thin man, Mr. Hebert, commented. "I have my daughter here too, though she is thankfully uninjured. She has been helping out, perhaps I can ask her to be your guide." He looked at the other man, who nodded.
"Fine with me. Let's get a move on here then."
This is where my Path led me, and the future from here splits too many ways for me to pluck one into reality without adverse consequences. Someone here in this camp is a true anchor, heavier than even the Endbringers, and I'll need all my guile to find whoever it is. I smiled. Being a detective is going to be fun.
I discovered something mildly unpleasant. Unlike Panacea, my healing does not automatically expel any foreign materials trapped with the flesh. Bullets, splinters and bits of oddly sharpened metals had to be dug out before I could work my power. This meant there always had to be a qualified RN by my side, especially if I was working on people with TBIs. This slowed down the process, though now I felt guilty about if I had healed everyone correctly at the ABB camp.
As I walked out after finishing the last medical tent and signing the PRT consent forms, there was a girl waiting for me outside. Tall, indeterminate age, might be younger than me or older, she was giving me an unimpressed look.
"Yo."
"Hello. You were supposed to be ready 20 minutes ago."
"Medical complications, you know how it is."
"No I do not. Follow me"
Girl's bit of a bitch, I thought. Then sighed. She's probably been having a really shitty day, and it's not fair for me to judge. "You Mr. Hebert's daughter?"
"I am."
"Can ya give me an outline of where we'd be visiting, need to let Console know."
She looked at me, frowning. Then she shrugged, and handed me a complete bulleted list of locations nearby where injured people were being kept. It even had triage marks indicating levels of hurt. I whistled.
"This is nicely done. The EMTs didn't have a system this detailed. This your work?"
"Yes it is." She sounded defensive, for some reason.
"Great work, then. This is very useful, and I'll ask other sites to do the same." I smiled at her.
She squinted at me, as if expecting a prank, said a begrudging thank you, and started walking faster.
"Damn girl, you're fantastic at organizing shit. Your attitude kinda sucks balls though."
Taylor, who gave me her name after 15 minutes of increasing prodding, sighed. She had been sighing a lot, dealing with me. I felt proud about that.
"The Smiths have reported that flashbangs gave them tinnitus, and they've been getting migraines. Might be concussed too, but they're not priority. Do you want to skip them for now?"
"Nah we're here so might as well rock and roll."
This was going surprisingly well. Velocity had stopped by twice, the camp infrastructure was now fully up-to-code, with the help of the PRT. It's been a couple of hours past noon and I was almost done. Now just making house calls all around the neighbourhood.
We sat in the shadow of a water tower, having cold sandwiches as lunch. Taylor looked contemplative.
"Why are you here?"
"What? You know why I'm here, I'm healing people."
"No I mean, gangfights and injuries happen so often it's background noise. We don't get full-on hero response every time. What's so special about this fight?"
"You get houses burned down and entire neighbourhood ruined all the time? Ya do know I live in this town too?"
"I am exaggerating for effect. Don't dodge my question."
I looked up at the clear afternoon sky. My cheekbones itched where the veil lay over it.
"I wasn't a cape before. I don't care what the heroes used to do, when I'm around things are gonna be different. It's our fucking fault this shit's happening anyway."
Taylor looked at me severely. "What do you mean it's your fault?"
"Fucking Empire rats attacked me and my family, twice. Burned down our house, injured my mom and uncle and aunt. Killed a close friend. Wouldn't have been able to do shit about it before. Now I can, so now I'm here.
"In response, some insane killer cape hunted down and ripped apart a bunch of nazis. Then the nazis escalated in response. Maybe if we weren't here, none of this would've happened."
Taylor looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry."
"It's all good my dude. Dudette. 'sides, you're doing your part. Not many of us your age can work around so much blood and guts and carry on. Feel like I should take you to the Bahamas or something as thanks."
She took a deep breath. "I know how to deal with people I love dying. Perhaps not well, but I can deal."
I reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
"Wait, what do you mean, take me to the Bahamas? You have a private jet? You're rich?"
"Uh I mean we're kinda rich, but we don't have a private jet, that shit's expensive as hell to maintain. And I can teleport you with my power, duh."
"You can teleport? Your official pamphlet said you're a healer and booster, it didn't mention anything about teleporting."
I froze. Fuck. "Uh so I was just joshing. Just uh … … testing if you knew my powers haha."
Her eyes were flat. "Uh huh."
"OK so maybe I can teleport. But uh that stays between us good pals, yeah?"
Her lips twitched. "So we're friends now?"
"Fuck me Taylor we just spent an afternoon holding together bloody injured people and bringing them back from the dead. We're practically soulmates."
She smiled softly, sadly. There's a story there, I could tell. I quickly scribble a number and email. "Look here's my personal number. Hit me up sometime yeah? We'll be tight."
Taylor took the paper and looked at it for a long time. Then she tucked it carefully in an inside pocket. "Now what? We've completed the list. Will you be moving on to other camps?"
I felt slightly dissatisfied. I either hadn't located my anchor yet, or found it so early that I missed it. "Now, I give you a boost to get you back to full hitpoints, and then we take a tour through the camps checking to make sure we haven't missed anyone."
"I'm fine," Taylor said defensively, "I don't need any healing."
"Girl do I look like I'm running out of healing juice. And you haven't seen yourself, you look like a starving owl and deathly exhausted to boot. Now up, up, up."
She grumbled a bit, but I could tell the healing lifted her spirits. I did the full circle through the tent city, and left a slightly smiling Taylor with her father at the end.
I left for the next crisis center, feeling like I had missed something.
X--------------------X
It was evening and completely dark out by the time I finished. I went into the Wards quarters to dump my bloody costume. No way am I even trying to wash these at home and then destroying thousands of dollars' worth of tinkertech armouring. The Director would personally shoot me.
Dennis was the only one present, lying supine on the couch, gaming at an extremely awkward angle.
"Hey carrot top."
"Hey yourself jockstrap."
I grimaced. "Do you even know what that means."
"Nope, and don't care to. It rhymed, and that's good enough for me."
"Should be more respectful to me man. You know my power lets me steal souls right?"
"No it doesn't, I was standing next you when you gave your formal results to Armsy and Piggot."
"You're remembering wrong."
"What, no I heard it with my own ears."
"Who you gonna believe, your lyin' ears or my perfectly reasonable voice huh?"
Things devolved from there.
I went through the extremely uncomfortable mental process to switch to Nerif, the Oracle. It always left me sobbing and bereft in the dark, trapped and dying in a burnt down kitchen. I had asked ma and Svetlana to not be near me for a bit after.
I got up, arms shaking, phantom fires burning my skin. I breathed in, and lost myself among potentials.
Faultline will be heading towards the asylum soon, her destiny still in flux. She will be an anchor to guide my Path, not the heaviest but still essential. My family, and Svetlana, are safe, guided to points beyond anyone's control. My golden path still existed. Sometime soon I will be strong enough to manifest, guiding the world to an ending I chose. Still, I must be subtle. Carefully weaving my way through Contessa's bulldozer of a Path remains a challenge. But Nerif has never been one to let a challenge go unanswered.
The purpose of today's paths though, has remained unclear all day. Annoying. I rolled around backwards through all the people I met. Nobody stood out.
Then I came to Taylor, and the futures exploded out of me. Possibilities spun, two golden gods warring, worlds burning.
A name, whispered by a thousand mouths.
Khepri.
Well, shit.
Meera gazed deeply into the dark, and someone looked back.
I fully wrote out the Meera/Ma confrontation, their arguments, the shouting back and forth, but it just didn't stick. I couldn't find the hook to make scene work, it kept turning into a telenovela. So it's gone, and you only see the aftermath. Apologies.
Hey that Taylor girl sounds important. Wonder what that's all about. Eh probably nothing.
Razzil the Alchemist – Primary: Tinker; Secondary: Striker/Brute – Human
Create Potions to massively buff allies, weaken enemies and create zones of terror – Synthesizing extra resources from each and every kill, Alchemist has no trouble gathering the tools needed to destroy his foes. Ambushing enemies with corrosive acid and a host of unstable chemicals, he battles to ensure his greedy escapades can remain uninterrupted.
I was unprepared for how much fun slitting my own wrists could be.
The skin of my arm rippled, flexed oddly and was whole again. The healing itself too fast to make out. Svetlana was looking on in horrified fascination.
"I think I'm getting you to a shrink soon. This cannot be healthy."
"Please, your mama is the best shrink we'll ever meet and she said this is fine."
"Which part of 'safely testing potion strength on live subjects' included extensive self-harm hmm?"
"Listen Lana the best discoveries are found on the frontier, we can't do science being safe."
"That's the opposite of the scientific process since like the 50s, have you been watching those old sci-fi movies again? They're rotting your brain."
"Nuh uh they're rotting your brain."
"… what."
X--------------------X
The Herren clans had no major compounds outside of Mississippi and Alabama. Unfortunately for us, they have been growing like kudzu and have started to infest our little corner of New England. Baba and Brigitte sat down with me, and pointed out 3 known camps in and around the Green Mountain National Forest, already spreading their tentacles throughout New Hampshire and Vermont. An explanation for the recent surge in Empire activity, even before I begun cutting down their elements.
I will not let this stand.
Ma has taught me the basics of counter-insurgency. She has taught me about Generals Westmoreland and Abrams, and the mistakes they made in Vietnam. I know what to do when the safe clear-and-hold techniques fail. I will search and I will destroy.
But not alone. Oh no. I've learned what happens when I overreach with my singular, terrible violence. I hurt those I am meant to protect.
I looked at the maps baba had laid down earlier. Brigitte had annotated the camps carefully, their ingress and egress points, security stations, sleeping quarters. They had anti-stranger defences, chokepoints to hold off brutes. Not as shabby as I had expected. Though, I smell an opportunity. I looked up at her.
"Can I infiltrate these camps, posing as one of them? Will they be missed if destroyed?"
Brigitte looked amused. "You darling, most definitely cannot. Your complexion is too delightfully dusky. I, on the other hand, can. Easily so, I'd expect."
I shook my head. "Be serious Bri, this is dangerous. They'll have codewords. You've read Uncle Aleksandr's summaries. These are all giant, interlinked families. They'll spot outsiders instantly."
She laughed. "Be serious, she says. Tell me, ma chère, before your two misadventures last week, how many armed guerilla camps have you infiltrated?"
"… Bri you and ma keep saying the most ominous things, you know?"
"Ah us old women have to keep our mysteries, hmm?"
"I'll tell ma you called her an old woman."
"… Let us focus on this charming little enemy camp, yes?"
"You will not be doing this alone, Bri. We need a support group. We need enhanced agents, preferably. I think we need Razzil now, more than ever."
Ma and Brigitte looked at each other, and then turned to Uncle Aleksandr, who was looking contemplative.
"What were the results of your tests, Meera? How much damage could the animals take?"
"Ah well, I felt kinda bad about the animals you know? I mean they didn't really give us consent to perform mad alchemical experiments on 'em. So uh we sorta –"
"You experimented on yourselves." Ma looked heavenwards.
Brigitte was delighted. "You really are your mother's daughter, love. Now, since you managed to not be in a coma this time, I presume your tests went well?"
"I will also be having a word with Svetlana. I gave her the responsibility to make sure you didn't overestimate yourself yet again and cause an incident." Uncle Aleksandr sounded unhappy.
I felt compelled to defend Svetlana. "Hey she was mad at me too, it's not her fault I kinda went off-script. Anyway, let's focus on results."
I consulted the notes Svetlana took. "The basic enhancement formula let me lift 1250 pounds, which was all we had in the basement. I suspect it goes higher. It also let me heal from slashing and stabbing wounds instantly."
"Now, the so-called Berserk formula amps everything by at least 5x, possibly more. They also distort musculature and stretch the body out. There is a considerable boost to reaction time and movement speed – not quite catching bullets, but close. The skin gains a form of selective elasticity which makes any kind of slashing wounds almost impossible and possibly provides falling immunity. Blast trauma is negated entirely. All of this comes at the cost of minorly diminished higher reasoning capabilities and much higher sensitivity to light." You looked up. "Getting flashbanged in this state is pretty much going to knock you out."
"The other formulas we already used during the previous strike against the Empire." I paused, still angry at what ma inadvertently made me contribute to. "The strongest acids are powerful enough to melt metal and skin, but they can discriminate between most known materials if prepared correctly. I can give a counter-agent to our allies. When they step closer, the acidic fumes won't hurt, instead forming a minor armour around their skin."
"Explosive formulas are legion. Flashbangs that will stun and disorient groups of people, bombs which are pure shockwave that will pulp internal organs, shrapnel fuelled mixture that will take out all but the strongest brutes, confusion bombs that will stop friend-or-foe identification. All of these have counter-agents, of course, which will be administered to allies to avoid danger close."
I stopped, slightly out of breath. Razzil is deadly, in a way completely unlike the Bloodseeker and Riki, and I knew the more time I spent creating his potions, the less I will ever want to do anything else.
Shivering, I forced aside the idea of converting this entire house to gold. I looked at Brigitte. "I don't like the idea of sending people to a fight where I'm not risking myself. Can you promise me everyone'll get out unharmed?"
"No." She was blunt. "No certainties in battle love. But these aren't conscripts. Me and dear Isha will vet everyone I bring, and there'll be no laggards."
I leaned back and closed my eyes. Ma had been eyeing me carefully.
"Alright, let's begin planning Operation Dragoon."
X--------------------X
I was surprised at how many of the 'operatives' I had met before, working completely mundane jobs. Some were with the Renauds, some with the Haldars. One Sikh gentleman was a retired truck driver, an acquaintance of baba's – though he wouldn't be going in, only resting as a secondary getaway driver.
I looked at the equipment ma and Gilles had gathered. Silenced weapons. Several tinkertech EMP grenades – unstable, dangerous, liable to stop all electronics from flashlights to pacemakers. Elaborate periscopes with tinkertech lenses attached to cameras for surveillance from treetops. Radios specifically modified to tap into all RF spectra but emitting no signals. Peer-to-peer communication devices relying on an insular mesh network that was theoretically airtight against eavesdropping. Lightweight digital jungle camo to be worn over regular clothes.
Despite all good reason, I was intensely jealous. This is the kind of job I should be leading, not being the voice in the ear. But no. No. I will have self-control. I will not be a peacock, strutting about on the largest stage. I knew ma was grooming me to be someone like her and despite my anger, I couldn't help but try to live up to her expectations.
I laid down very specific ground rules – teenagers and below to be left alone to the best of their ability, no outsiders to be touched, no torture. The teams were surprisingly blood-thirsty, and I felt like a hypocrite trying to slow their roll considering what I had been doing to the nazis. At least I must try to be better. Who knows, I might convince myself to not go immediately lethal next time in combat.
Though not an active participant, I was still crucial. School still being off, I spent the day studying the terrain around the camps. Some of Uncle Aleksandr's hunting friends sent back images, having set up drones to fly around autonomously at random times. I leaned into the locations, testing them, making certain I could teleport in and out as needed.
I had spent the entire night preparing my deadly concoctions, and packaging them into ampoules that Aunt Alina had ordered and packaged. During the day, I grabbed two people at a time and dropped them at random locations around the sites. Their exfiltration zones were marked on maps and I had visited them to make sure there were no people around. They weren't carrying any identifying documents, and the only electronics were the secure comm devices. One excited woman wanted cyanide tablets, but I vetoed them over ma's objections. Everyone knew junglecraft – how to read maps and navigate via starlight.
Operations within the camps themselves were lightly planned. Start at 3am sharp. Hit all camps at the exact same time. Basic enhancement potions before entry. EMP grenades over the walls. After entry, improvisation would be key. No parahumans were known to be present, but there were a lot of heavy weaponry on site. These armouries would be the first targets for the acids. Moving on to detonations in the sleeping and dining quarters next. One of every duo would quaff the Berserk potion on being detected, the other's job to guide their companion. Shock and awe on the responding forces, dumping all remaining grenades, save for the acid rain brew. Run to exfil.
A message sent.
I shivered in anticipation.
X--------------------X
It took exactly 7 minutes for events to start going catastrophically wrong.
"Be aware Mémère, we have unidentified hostile parahuman on site at Camp Abed."
"Disengage. Report visible power effects."
"Rapid ballistic impacts from large debris. Possible telekinetic control. Have no visual on parahuman."
What? I rapidly went through a mental list of Empire and Herren clan parahumans. They had no telekinetic movers on record. A new trigger, or a loan from Europe. Bad news, either way.
"Report status of allied teams."
"Several initial injuries and dismemberments all negated by regeneration. All teams are locked down and currently in hiding."
I almost looked at ma for help. Not yet. Not yet. I cannot teleport in, I am too obviously identifiable as Wisp. And Wisp anyway is not a major combatant, any damage I would do would either be inconsequential or utterly Earth-shattering. No, I will put my trust on the men and women on the ground.
The nazis only respect violence. So I will deliver onto them, violence.
"Mémère to all teams on channel Phi. Everyone Berserks. Rush the parahuman. Use the acid rain."
"Copy."
There were several moments of almost unbearable tension. Good news was the other camps were passing perfectly. The voice that got back to me was strained.
"Telekinetic parahuman deceased. Young female, uncostumed. Warning, secondary parahumans present."
Fuck.
"Report powers."
"Unknown. Possible flying artillery. Heavily accurate gunmen."
A second voice joined in.
"Reporting, parahuman enhancement effects on the field. Atleast two speedsters, one pyrokinetic, possible one high-level brute."
More external support? This does not resemble any reported Herren clan parahuman. If they had a Galvanate-lite then the Empire would've been near-unstoppable. A new trigger then, possibly during the attack, precisely countering all the advantages I've given the Team.
A third voice now.
"Mémère, reporting failure to exfiltrate. Team D through G being corralled towards the center. Damage starting to get through regen … more reports coming in, the brutes are invincible. Suspected healer among group, several acidified targets are functioning again, at low capacity. If escape no longer viable, suggest self-termination."
Oh absolutely not. Not while I drew breath. Thank fuck Brigitte wasn't in this camp, she'd have stopped me.
"Permission denied. Bunker up. Help's coming."
I turned around.
"Ma, take over comms. I'm going in."
She said nothing, but gave me a look of fierce pride. I stood up straighter.
I appeared in a copse of trees I had picked out specifically for emergency transport, the dense foliage hiding my glow. I immediately shifted back. The sounds of gunfire was loud, crackles of explosions shaking the leaves. I could smell the acrid tang of burning gunpowder, and the heady pungent odour of my potions. I closed my eyes, sank down into the mushy forest floor detritus.
A nudge.
I was in the kitchen, again. I was dead. No, just dying, my neck broken, my arms cold, broken glass in my eyes, in my cheeks. My home is burning, burning. Fire surrounds me, but it's dark. So dark. Just another statistic. Fight. Fight back. Remember who I am. Remember the tree.
And then I'm back. I'm calm. I know what to do. It's as if Rikimaru never even left.
My blades bounced off the back of the man holding the doors of a warehouse closed. Interesting, true invincibility is rare. The smoke bomb is not needed, no boost is permanent. I'm patient. I can wait. The man is already dead.
Few others were invincible. I took down the flyers first, leaping onto their backs, decapitating them and riding their torsos back to the ground. The attacks from my side had stopped, my mother coordinating them perfectly. She knew I thrived in the paranoia of the quiet following the chaos. A woman after my own heart.
Where would they put their parahuman? Their most defended building? No, a camp like this is no fortress, they would know my bombs would bring them down eventually. The smart thing to do, and these nazis were smart, would be to use their speedsters to take her out somewhere distant and mobile, possibly amongst the vehicles and trailers. Bring the ones to be boosted to her, and take them back to the battlefield.
As I walked behind the largest concentration of nazi forces, a speedster surreptitiously grabbed one of the men by the shoulder, and they blurred. But not fast enough for my eyes to miss the direction of travel. I smiled. Rikimaru comes for you.
It was disappointingly easy, in the end. A young girl, not much older than me. Shaking, crying silently. One of her eyes a mess of blood and fluid. Two older men, sitting around her protectively. Others crouched hiding behind the trailer's wheels, guns at the ready. The surviving women and children in a different trailer. Delicious.
The last thing the girl saw out of her remaining eye was the tip of my blade. I flicked her brain matter onto the men guarding her, smiled wide and went unseen. Now to see how long the enhancements lasted without the parahuman providing them.
The men were screaming, shooting rapidly at all angles inside the trailer, hitting their allies under the floor. Oh this is good, this terror, this is what I live for. Less than a hundred heartbeats, the old men are mundane again.
Soon after, they're all dead.
I scattered their viscera around the trailer where the noncombatants moaned and hid. 'tis only right they get to appreciate the fates of those who died guarding them.
As I moved back into the camp, the shooting had started up again. My allies were aware, without me telling them, that the boosts were over. The fighting was desperate now, the nazis realizing their doom and deciding to not go quietly. A toast to them, but Rikimaru is here now. Like a whisper, I moved through them, dealing my deathly custom. Soon, too soon, the camp was quiet again.
The heavy warehouse door was pushed open. 8 men and women stepped out. I appeared in front of the leader of the trapped teams, and bowed. "Rikimaru, at your service."
The woman startled, and then her face went tight. The Berserk potion had run out, but the regular potions had kept any injuries at bay. She looked around the carnage inside the camp, my blades having dealt bloody devastation to all survivors. Her eyes were wide, her breathing deliberately controlled. "Grand-père says," she stopped. Swallowed. "Grand-père asks you to remember that Lana waits for you tonight, that she'll be disappointed if you're messy."
I froze. I looked down at myself. There's no blood on me. There's never any blood on me. I've danced my ruinous dance and yet again I emerge, pristine. I am never messy.
I blinked and was lying on the ground, face against the burnt grass. Someone picked me up, gently, carefully. I wanted to tell them I don't deserve their gentleness, never again. But I didn't have a voice. I didn't even have a body. A loud rumbling, crunching sound. A massive truck, familiar, paternal. I was in the dark now, comfortable.
I remembered little else.
X--------------------X
Svetlana was cuddling with me. Lightly tracing her fingers on the old scar on my jaw. I was drinking a glass of cold lassi. My arms were steady now. They hadn't been, for almost a day. Ma had called in to the PRT, saying I needed a break after my work helping the crisis centers. She hadn't lied, not really.
Switching three times in a day has been a torture. Not an experience I was keen to repeat. My mind still felt … fragile, in a way that scared me. Svetlana had, loudly and venomously, made it very clear to ma that she would be putting limits on my 'wet-work.' I was too exhausted to protest, not that I wanted to. I drifted off in her arms.
When I woke up, Aunt Alina was there on the opposite couch. Her lips were thin. I didn't like seeing her angry. Ma was sitting beside her, looking chastened and guilty. Another look I didn't like.
"What happened, ma? How did I miss two parahumans?"
She was hesitant, looking at Aunt Alina before replying. "You can never have perfect information in combat Meera. The enemy always has agency, and piercing through the fog of war is an unsolvable task. You did … well enough, for your first operational command."
Ma flinched slightly at the looks Svetlana and Aunt Alina were giving her. I didn't turn my head. "We will, of course, not be undertaking any operation this extensive any time soon, if ever. Right now, our focus would be developing Brockton Bay, making sure the people hurt from the Empire's rampages have support, and contributing to infrastructure building. You should … focus on yourself now, Meera."
Aunt Alina got up and softly took my face between her hands. "You will go outside with my Svetochka and your other friends now, sweetling. Forget this business." She turned and gave a look at ma that I couldn't see. "Go now. Me and the other adults will be having a major meeting. We will be rethinking our strategy, and your mother and father will be busy."
I nodded, gave ma a hug, and headed out with Svetlana.
I sat on a lightly rusted shipping container, my legs dangling out almost 70 feet over the breakwater. Svetlana leaned against my back, juggling shiny pebbles from the beach. Sunlight was reflecting off them onto my stomach, a sparkling kaleidoscope.
The roar of the ocean was calming, almost dreamy.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the gleaming shield of the Protectorate HQ. An abomination on the calm waters of the bay. The legs of the converted oil rig a dull red. I couldn't take the rig, I thought. Not with how I am now. I know so little of the grand strategy of war. My blades, deadly as they are, cannot determine all conflict.
I put an arm around Svetlana and squeezed. She startled, dropping the pebbles. Two of them bounced off my thigh into the sea far below. She gave me an annoyed smile. "Oh is miss melancholy turning back to miss misdemeanour now?"
I laughed despite myself. "Lana that makes no sense. What misdemeanour did I even commit there?"
"Idiot stop analysing my jokes. I just wanted to make you laugh."
A seagull swept its wings right by the both of us, messing up my hair. I glared at it. These damn birds can see everything and go anywhere, and yet they always choose the places to irritate me the most.
If only I could be a bird. Or any critter, really. If I could've peeked into those nazi camps before sending my people in, then maybe … maybe …
A violet crystalline bird shattered, its fragments burying deep inside the branches of a tree that spanned the world.
An unseen wind rustled the leaves.
From within, came answers.
Meera didn't want to be Otacon. Unfortunately she enjoyed being Solid Snake even less. What is a poor girl to do.
More Empire capes (and one 'potential') murked. The nazis are straight up not having a good time.
Fifteen minutes into setting up her first cell phone, Taylor Hebert discovered she had become a technological luddite.
It was not a comforting realization.
She looked at the polished glowing glass slab, all metal and mystery intertwined. Originally a gift given to her father, now bequeathed to her like a royal heirloom. Wrapped in guilt and fear.
The attacks had shaken them both. Bright lasers lighting up the sky, the old wooden beams of their house shaking, power flickering all night. They had both retreated to the basement. She had felt like a little girl, cowering under her dad's embrace. They were a family again, thanks to rampaging monsters.
Taylor gave up fiddling with the phone, stood and started pacing her room. Her eyes fell on the newspaper clippings that she and dad had been working on all morning. One showed her dad holding up a piece of masonry while paramedics stretchered out a casualty, which lead to a lot of friendly ribbing between the two of them. The memory of them talking again, laughing and joking, made her think for a little while that the world was starting to be alright.
The other clippings though, brought her a nervous sort of gratification. She was crouching in the rubble, her shirt splattered with blood, holding the hand of an old woman whose name she never came to know. The glowing, angelic form of Wisp next to her was almost an afterthought. One where she was holding up one end of a stretcher with a small boy lying on it, as a nurse held a saline bag above his head. Another where she was standing tall, her shirt stained and her face covered in concrete dust, leading Wisp to one of the temporary shelters.
There had been a fierce hint of pride in her dad's eyes as he brought the papers home. She hadn't even noticed the photographers or the news cameras, the first few hours on site being such a blur. So, when dad started pointing out her face on the front page of the daily papers her first reaction had been to somehow deny it and hide in her room. Dad's laughter brought her back out, a sound the house hadn't heard in months.
Lacey had come over with a casserole and she pointed out that Taylor had even appeared on the local ABC26 news reports. Her second time on TV, while she brutally suppressed the memory of her first appearance.
Dad had been spooked enough by the sudden outburst of gang violence that he brought back one of the cell phones given to him by the volunteer parties and gave it to her to configure. "Just, try to keep in touch no matter what, alright?"
Taylor went back to the phone, and decided that it was good as it is. All the software in it probably wasn't important to her life anyway. The only part that really matters are the contacts. She put in the house number. Dad's DWA number. Mom's office numb–
She closed her eyes. Grief washed around her and passed her by.
She hesitated, then, and put in the Barnes' number too. It was embedded in her mind. Who else? She had no friends, no relatives save gram, and she didn't know her number. All her friends were Emma's, and now there were none. She really hadn't realized how lonely she had been over the last few months, after Emma.
But no, there was a new number, wasn't there?
Taylor walked to her closet, searched around and brought out the little card Wisp had given her. It was an official Ward card, one that she'd have been thrilled to find even a year ago. Mom would have rolled her eyes at her excitement, Emma would have bragged about it to anyone who'd listen. Now here she was, no mother and no sister, nobody to share her joy with.
For a moment, she felt a flash of anger towards Wisp. What right did she have to bring back these memories?
She turned the card over. Wisp had written a number, and an email. For some reason, she had drawn a pair of skull and crossbones around the note too. There could be a deeper reason for why she drew those but considering what her personality was like, Taylor guessed Wisp did it just to confuse her.
Wisp wasn't what she was expecting a Hero to be like. Pretty far from it, in fact. A Hero should have gravitas, should be able to silence a room when steps into it. The way everyone would visibly stand straighter when Alexandria came into a room. Wisp was a clown, and a fairly rude one too. Though they did have something in common – when Wisp spoke, everyone listened. Even though she was a teenager who looked barely older than Taylor herself in costume.
Enough procrastinating, she decided, and entered Wisp's name and number into her contacts. Her personal number. Do Heroes do that? We're practically soulmates, Wisp had said. Before she could psyche herself out of it, Taylor sent a quick message. She felt painfully out of touch while compiling it, but if she didn't it would hang over her head forever and she'd like to close this chapter quickly. Fangirling over Heroes had lost a lot of its charm post Emma.
She almost dropped the phone as it suddenly buzzed loudly and angrily.
Wisp was a menace.
X--------------------X
"Hey dad." Taylor felt like a ball of awkwardness, later that evening.
"Hey sweetie." Dad looked slightly amused about something. "Already addicted to your phone, are you?"
Taylor grimaced. "Not really. It's a bit too much, honestly."
"I trust you to be careful with it, Taylor. I wouldn't have given it to you, otherwise."
Taylor looked at her dad steadily. This crisis has rejuvenated him, brought him out of his funk. He was living now, not just going through the motions of humanity, barely even interacting with her.
"So a friend of mine contacted me. School's still off for the week, so I was thinking if I could meet up with them tomorrow?" She finished somewhat tentatively.
Dad frowned. "Taylor the city isn't in the best state right now. I'm guessing it's not Emma?"
"No."
Dad looked slightly taken back by her brusque answer. "Where would you be going?"
"We'd be downtown, at a new food market that's just opened up. And maybe visit the Roman Exhibition near Captain's Hill."
"That's far. Safe, but far. Are you taking the bus?"
"No, my friend's um brother would be picking us up. He'll drop us off too, but I might take the bus for that."
"What's her name? I want to talk to her parents at least once, if you'll be spending time with her."
"It's Meera. Meera Hazra, I think. And yeah sure, let me just ask for a number."
Dad had a thoughtful look on his face. "Hazra? Any relation to the Hazra Transport & Logistics folks?"
Taylor was slightly taken aback. "I don't know. Her dad drives a long-haul I think."
"Hmm. Well let me talk to them and see."
X--------------------X
Taylor's first impression of Meera, as opposed to Wisp, was not good. The car, large and expensive, already put her in bit of a foul mood. The way Meera leaped out of the car before it even stopped, stumbled, and recovered by doing a roll was too daredevilish for her liking. She didn't like people who fooled around right by moving cars.
"Yo Big T! How's it hanging?"
Taylor turned to look at her father and gestured at Meera to indicate what she'll be dealing with. "See, I'll be fine. I'll probably be the only adult in this troupe."
A girl with white-blonde hair leaned out of the back window, "Hey there Mr. Hebert, Taylor. Thanks for letting us hang out!"
Meera waved her hand impatiently, "Yeah yeah great to see ya, now come on T we're burning daylight. You all ready? Put on your bulletproof vests? Your armoured pauldrons?"
Taylor rolled her eyes at Meera's antics, and turned around to say goodbye. To her surprise, dad leaned in and gave her big hug, squeezing her tight. "You'll be good?"
Taylor squeezed back. "I'll be good."
There were 4 people in the car already, and Taylor got the back window seat. The heater was on, some trance music was playing, and the car smelled of tacos. She looked at a grinning Meera, squeezed in between her and a Hispanic boy who she guessed was Jose. "So um is everyone here aware–"
"Oh yeah this is my personal cabal y'know? They know me to my bones."
"Literally so," the pretty girl in the front passenger seat, Svetlana, said. "Considering the number of times you've broken bones in our company."
"Anyway listen T, we've got tons of food and do you actually wanna visit the Roman Expedition thing after the Farmer's Market or do you wanna go on an adventure?"
Taylor looked at Meera for a long moment and decided to completely ignore her. "Hey everyone, I don't know how much Meera told you, but I'm Taylor."
There was a chorus of greetings, with the tall boy in the driver's seat, muttering a short howdy.
Jose spoke up. "Meera was honestly gassing you up a lot, telling us about how you were running around helping people all day during the aftermath."
"I saw the pictures! Everyone on PHO and Facebook was sharing them. You really did look badass." Svetlana chimed in.
"I wasn't trying to be badass!"
"Gods Lana you should've seen her order me and all the EMTs about. Like even her old man would snap to attention when she spoke. Our own little Alexandria."
Despite her best wishes, Taylor flushed scarlet. "What would you know about Alexandria, have you met her?"
"Oh yeah for sure for sure, me and Lexy, we're tight."
Taylor frowned at her. Svetlana gave a loud and theatrical sigh. "No she has never met Alexandria. She just listened to a canned speech from her that all Wards get to hear at orientation. I'm sorry Taylor, my Mimi isn't fully house-trained yet, we're still working on that."
"Hey!"
"Yeah we weren't actually sure if you were a real person or a squirrel that she got super attached to and confused with a human being."
"HEY!"
Taylor laughed. Everyone joined in, while Meera gave an exaggerated pout.
Maybe she'll get to enjoy this day out after all.
"Aight Big T c'mon let's ditch those losers, we'll take the proper way up."
Taylor looked up at the scree-filled slope, with occasional slabs of granite and metal poking through. Behind her, water collected in a murky, stagnant pool. She peered at the perfectly square cut granite walls of the abandoned quarry on either side, and wondered what lunacy made her agree to this.
She stepped gingerly through the jagged shards of broken chunks of rocks and made her way to where Meera stood looking up, hands on her hips. Svetlana and Jose were halfway up the stone-cut stairs. Jose had his camera pointed towards them. A chilly January wind blew across the slope.
Taylor sighed. "Very well. Let me start, catch me if I slip."
The rubble was surprisingly steady. Her worries of creating a landslide to bury Meera beneath her was slightly overblown. She wouldn't want to admit it out loud, but the feeling of climbing, jumping from slab to slab avoiding rusting machinery, her leg muscles straining, was exhilarating. She scrambled up the last few feet, the palms of her hand scratched and red, and jumped over the concrete lip. She raised her hands in triumph, an Everest climbed.
"Hold that pose!" Jose yelled at her, still on the stairs.
She immediately felt self-conscious. What was she doing pretending to be Rocky Balboa with her skinny arms and gawky figure. Before she could cringe into herself, Meera jumped up the last few feet with the grace of a ballerina and swept her up in a spinning hug. Taylor squeaked in fear as they swung dangerously close to the edge they just climbed over, before toppling over on the concrete. Meera was laughing her head off.
Svetlana, chuckling, ran in to save Meera from Taylor's smacking.
There was a red barn-like structure on the hilltop overlooking the quarry. It seemed wrong somehow, like someone plucked a building straight out of a large grainfield in Iowa and dropped it here. Meera caught her staring.
"Yeaaaah we don't go in there anymore, it's an actual deathtrap. Found that out the hard way," she said, lifting her shirt up scandalously high to point at a long, deep scar beneath her ribs. A tattoo partially covered it.
Svetlana frowned at her. "You know I still haven't forgiven you for that. If Carrie didn't know proper first aid who knows what would have happened."
"I would've called for a Medevac; I had the emergency radio." Jose chimed in, still laying out the food on the grass.
Taylor looked towards Brockton. From up here, even Medhall looked small. The waters of the bay almost glowed a brilliant blue. Her home. As infested with horrible things as it is, she still loved the city.
Meera followed her gaze. "We're working on it, T. Soon enough the city will be fully nazi-free. I'll stake my life on it."
Remembering Winslow's probable and growing Empire contingent, Taylor doubted it. "A lot of people just, like, support the Empire passively. You'd be surprised at how few are actively calling for the murder of minorities or whatever. They're not all bad people, it's just easier to pretend that your neighbour, your friend isn't evil."
Meera snorted. "They have a saying in Germany. If there's a nazi at the table and 10 other people are sitting there talking to him, you got a table with 11 nazis. The only good nazi is a dead nazi."
There was a venom in her voice that Taylor hadn't heard before. "That's … surprisingly bloodthirsty of you."
Svetlana reached over and pulled Meera into a hug, tucking her face into her shoulder. Taylor looked away, it felt like a private moment.
Jose sat down next to her. "There's a quote from Burke I always like to use about the Bay. When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle. If we never speak out, if we never fight, no matter how low the scale of the injustice is, then we will lose the world."
"Okay this is getting too philosophical, where's the goddam good cheer huh? Ya nerds are going to scare T from joining us ever again." Meera had shuffled her way out of Svetlana's hug.
"Oh Mimi if we can't be dramatic on top of an abandoned quarry, a monuments to man's hubris in trying to conquer nature, then we should give up on metaphors as a concept. Come on Taylor give us a good line too. Summarize our beloved Bay for us."
Taylor closed her eyes. Mom's office drifted in her mind's eye. That one poster she'd stare at whenever she was there. She looked at her new friends, her gaze firm.
"Do thine eyes not bleed, at the sight of injustice? Do thine hands not tremble, at the burden of thy brother? Doth thine heart not cry out unto breaking, at the pain of thy sister? Then who are you to preach peace and restraint?"
Everyone stared at her and for just a moment she wanted to disappear into the ground, never to be seen again. Then Meera whooped, Svetlana clapped, and Jose cheered.
"Holy shit fuck yeah T. That boils the blood don't it. Didn't take you for an anarchist though."
"I'm not, it's something my mom had up. Always resonated with me."
"So any problem you've been facing where you don't wanna preach peace and restraint? A problem where you just wanna go apeshit?"
Meera could be a clown, but she was unusually perceptive at times. Taylor looked down at the ground.
Svetlana reached out and put a hand on her knee. "I know we haven't known each other long, but if there's something you want to vent to us almost strangers, we'll listen. No judgement."
There is, of course. Taylor hasn't talked about the bullying, about school, about Emma, to anyone. Not even a complaint to school, in case it blows back on her and Emma both. But being passive, waiting for Emma to just change back, hoping for someone else to notice and help, hasn't worked for her so far.
Maybe it's time for the good to associate.
Taylor was utterly exhausted by the time she went to bed. For the first time in a long time, she slept the dreamless sleep of the innocent.
There was a smile on her face the whole night.
X--------------------X
"Alan called me last evening."
"Hmm?" Taylor tried to not let any emotions show. Uncle Alan and Aunt Zoe had been almost part of the family.
"He was worried about us. Saw all the nonsense about how the docks had been destroyed and wanted to check up."
Taylor scowled, privately. Now he checks up. But that's unfair, the Barnes had been there strongly for her family after mom.
"He invited us over tonight for a dinner and a chat. Do you want to come? Emma will be there."
The urge to say no was immediate. Then again. This is probably her last chance to talk. In her own room, Emma will feel in control, not threatened. If there's ever an opportunity to fix this wall between them, then she can't not take it.
"Sure dad, I'd love to be there. We haven't talked in a while, maybe we can catch back up."
She had missed Aunt Zoe's pasta. She had missed being a family even more. Anne was still in college, so it was just the three Barnes and the two of them. There was even a facsimile of the old Emma, talking lightly and excitedly at the table. Aunt Zoe was so concerned about if she was hurt during her volunteering. Uncle Alan talking about how proud mom would've been.
It felt like a stage play. Everyone acting out the roles of a friendly family.
Dad and the Barnes retired to the drawing room to chat. She followed Emma up to her room. A path she knew better than her own home.
Emma smiled, faux sweet. "Congratulations Taylor. For once in your worthless existence you're not a parasite. I'm sure this'll be the highlight of your entire life."
Taylor sighed. "How have you been doing Ems? The final few attacks weren't that far from here, must have been scary."
Emma was right in her face, suddenly. Painfully poking her in the chest. "You think I get scared? You think you get to tell me how I felt? Just because some fucking Hero took you in as a charity case?"
The old Taylor would've cringed, and dropped it. Not again. She was here to fight. She looked into Emma's eyes, her face flushed red with anger. "Everyone gets scared Ems. The strong keep working despite their fear."
"Fucking fortune cookie bullshit Tay? That's all you are now? A wreck of a girl spouting self-help bullshit? I know how the world works and it has no place for weaklings."
Taylor stared at the girl who was her sister in all but name. How had she not noticed how much Emma was hurting? "Oh Emma. I'm so sorry. Tell me who hurt you so badly, and we'll make it right. I swear to you."
Emma's voice rose. "I don't need your fucking pity you dumbass bitch. I am better than you'll ever be."
"Of course you are Ems. You've always been stronger than me. You're the one who put me back together. I should've been there for you too. I'm sorry I –"
"Stop fucking talking about things you don't fucking understand. I don't need help."
There was a faint squeak outside, from when someone coming up the stairs puts their hand on the banister. Taylor raised a hand and Emma fell silent instantly. A known ritual.
They paused till Aunt Zoe picked up whatever she had come for and went back downstairs, waiting for the short click of the stairs light turning off.
Emma turned around, fuming. All composure from the dinner lost.
"Ems if someone hurts you they hurt me too. You're all I got in this world. C'mon, I'll fight back with you no matter –"
Emma turned her lips up, her smile cruel. "You think someone comes after me and gets away? They're fucking done alright? I fought back. Sophia took care of the rest."
Taylor frowned. Sophia again. She didn't want to think well of that girl, violent, uncontrollable bully that she was. But if she helped Emma, then…
"I'm glad Sophia was there for you Ems. I wish I was too. I can be, still."
"Sophia put you in your place bitch. Cause I told her to."
Taylor took a deep breath. "I can deal with whatever she dishes out, if she's that important to you Ems."
Emma stared at her now, her eyes wide. She looked stumped, rather than angry, for the first time this night. "What the fuck would you know about how important anyone is to me you friendless loser?"
"I've got friends Ems, we've been hanging out. They're not you, but nobody else can be."
"Someone took pity on you Tay? They're gonna dump you as soon as they how weak you are."
"Maybe. I met them while volunteering. If they dump me, well, I'll find others. Life's so short. Forgetting is so long."
Emma went back to her bed and sat down with all the violence she was capable of. She was panting.
"I could've done what you did in the camp. You're nothing special." Emma's voice was quiet now. Defeated, almost.
"I'm not," Taylor agreed. "We were though. Me and you."
They were both silent, for a long while.
"Would you want to meet my friends Ems? You'll like them, I think."
"Why the fuck would I want to meet anyone who bothers with you?" The venom was gone from her voice. She was just reciting lines, now.
"One of them's very pretty Ems, almost as gorgeous as you."
"There's nobody like me."
"Yeah the blood sacrifice is still working."
"You bet your ass it is."
"I told them that my best friend is a model, and a damn good one too."
Emma was looking confused. The conversation was not going as she had expected it to, earlier this evening. The small bit of banter had left her off-balance.
"Her mother is an executive at Courrèges. She mentioned they're always looking for models with your body-type Ems. You know how rare that is."
"So that's it? You want to bribe your way into my life? That's pitiful, even by your standards."
"I don't need a reason to look out for you Ems."
"I don't need your handouts."
"You do. I remember your handwriting Ems."
"Oh fuck off."
"How's your algebra Ems?"
Emma grumbled.
"Want me to take a look?"
"Fuck off." But she didn't move to stop her. Taylor picked up the math notebooks, which Emma always put in the same place. She sat down at her customary chair by Emma's desk, and turned to look at her.
There was an ugly look now on Emma's face. Still, she hesitantly moved forward and took her seat. The wind had been taken off her sails.
The rest of the evening was a throwback to years past. When there wasn't this flaming gulf between them. When life was still good.
When they left, late at night, the smiling, painfully fake Emma from the start of the evening was nowhere to be found. She was completely silent, her face tight. When Taylor turned back after putting her shoes on, Emma almost moved forward to hug her on autopilot before abruptly stopping.
As she walked back to her dad's truck, Emma's gaze was burning a hole on her back.
X--------------------X
School opened on Monday, a full week's delay. For once, Taylor wasn't dreading her return. She walked in, head held high. She couldn't quite tell, but people seemed to be looking at her and whispering. She wasn't scared though. The pranks had lost their power over her.
Sophia came out one of the girl's changing rooms, sweaty and panting even this early in the morning. She spotted Taylor and looked at her steadily. Taylor stared back, curious. If she started something, Taylor was ready to hit back. But no, Sophia gave her a nod, almost respectful, and walked away.
Taylor shrugged, and moved on.
Taylor was slightly late to lunch, Mr. Quinlan wanting to talk to her about possibly trying for the Math Olympiad team. When she got to the cafeteria line, she groaned. For the first day of class they had her favourite summer squash pudding as dessert, and the odds of her getting it this late was slim. She really really loved those puddings.
She sat down at her table in a nook close to the doors, grumbling slightly. As expected, the pudding was gone, she had to do with some terrible jell-o. As she was about to tuck in, a shadow fell over her.
She turned around and Emma was right there, her face pinched, holding a tray. Taylor raised an eyebrow. Emma shoved past her, and used her spoon to scoop two squash puddings from her tray onto Taylor's. She turned and walked away immediately after.
Taylor smiled.
School went on.
Hopefully I grasped Taylor's 'voice' and her stubborn nature well enough. This is her a year before canon, so she hasn't been broken down quite as harshly, her nature not quite as cynical.
