Taylor Hebert
April 11th
Evening
The Docks
The last week, all things considered, had been a bit of a wash. Taylor had gone to the library to do some research and ended up meeting a cute boy that was genuinely interested in the same things she was. That was easy to see as an upside to her life, a small, flickering candle in the darkness.
Everything else had gone pretty terribly across the board.
School had been…bad. Bad enough to make her accelerate her plans for taking off into the night, and making her debut. It wasn't the best idea that she'd had, and Taylor hadn't been entirely ready for it. But compared to just spinning her wheels, sitting around and doing nothing substantial with her power…?
No, even going out half-cocked seemed better than that. Why she'd been expecting even that much to go smoothly, Taylor didn't have the faintest clue.
Things had started out relatively innocently, besides the fact that she'd overheard Lung and some of his underlings preparing to go murder children. Or at least, that's what she'd presumed at the time. The reality was revealed to her not that long after, but until then she'd been operating off of that presumption.
Which meant that he and everyone he was with got flooded with bugs, as many as she could bring to the table. It was enough to fend off the regular thugs and goons, yet the same couldn't have been said about Lung. Instead, she got to find out firsthand that the wiki articles about Capes did not, in fact, have all of their information on a neat and handy list.
For example, Lung had enhanced senses in his transformed state - which, much to her shock and horror, she discovered as he slowly began to climb up the side of the building that she was standing on, using his massive bulk and razor-sharp claws to cut through the stone with ease. He was big, he was fast, and he was coming to absolutely destroy her, slowed by but not stopped by the stinging and bites of hundreds of insects. Taylor had leaped into this cape business with nothing but a spider-silk costume and thirty dollar Pepper Spray from the pawn shop, and now she was going to be torn apart and cooked like KBBQ.
Until-
THUNK!
Lung screamed in pain, a massive gout of fire scorching both the air and the roof tiles near Taylor's feet as a masked man in a vaguely military-like outfit leaped at least two stories into the air after him, a massive blade easily taller than he was cleaving into the dragon's side with a loud, meaty, nauseating thunk of metal carving flesh. They went down hard, crashing against the sidewalk and clobbering at each other with reckless abandon, and against any and all better judgment…
Taylor found herself crawling towards the edge of the rooftop, shaking and scared but alive. She just wanted a peek, nothing more. Common sense dictated that she run, get the hell out of there while the going was hot, but Lung had already scorched all of the bugs she'd had on him. What sort of aspiring hero would she be if she didn't help someone who was probably new himself?
Her mind connected to every painful, toxic insect she could sense in her immediate vicinity, and like a conductor guiding an orchestra, she sent them straight for the Brutes scrapping in the streets below.
DING!
And that was when her ears were assaulted.
It was another man, walking out of the shadows of an overturned truck, clad in a dark suit, silver mask, and a cloak made of black feathers. He had a gun in one hand, which he casually held towards the battling duo, but his other hand was empty and raised in the air. Lung was screaming now, a sound more human than bestial, as his steadily growing scales suddenly peeled away from his flesh like a fish being boiled alive, hives and lesions and necrosis settling into pink, exposed skin as bright green bile exploded out of his throat.
CRACK!
A bullet followed whatever the the silver masked man did, striking the side of Lung's skull and drilling through the warped scale to dig into the desiccated flesh underneath, and the Brute took that opportunity to duck inside the much larger dragon's guard and slam a large, wicked-looking gauntlet into his chest, palm first.
That was when Lung's screaming turned into murderous, bone-chilling wailing, and Taylor came to the conclusion that she was probably a little in over her head.
But her insects had reached him now, with more lying in wait in little pockets across the block. Beneath a rusted hubcap were a legion of fire ants, marching in circles anxiously. Underneath a fallen street lamp, a family of brown recluses and black widows readied themselves to swing forth. Wasps, bees, scorpions - she grabbed anything and everything she could find, and kept them ready to go in waves, replacing those turned to ash.
And for a surprisingly pleasing couple minutes, it worked. Whatever Sword Man was doing with his funky black gauntlet, it was slowly but steadily draining Lung's stamina and actively healing the hero as they fought. For some reason the fire wasn't burning him to a crisp either, though Taylor had a good feeling it had something to do with one of those canteens he'd pulled out of his pocket. He guzzled one down whenever he got hit too hard, or the flames actually began burning him, before squaring his shoulders and diving headfirst back into the fight.
Feather Man, however, stayed well out of melee range, and if fire ever blasted in his direction, he moved out of the way with a discomfiting grace. His powers were significantly harder to pin down - for a minute there he'd been snapping his fingers and turning Lung into a desiccated, standing corpse with each ringing of a bell, but after that he began slinging balls of green acid the size of cantaloupes. They ate through Lung's increasingly frustrating scales with startling ease, giving Taylor's bug army prime flesh for biting.
But despite their admittedly good teamwork… Lung was not going down. And he was getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger.
Three loud, roof-shaking impacts struck the tiles behind her.
It rattled through her body like an explosion, dust and ash flying through the air, and if she hadn't already been crouched low to the rooftop Taylor may have stumbled and fell down into the fighting below. Instead, with her heart beating like bongo drums inside of her chest, she quickly turned on the bottom of her heels and whipped out her pepper spray. She could still feel her current wave of bugs converging on Lung, but she was running low.
Ecologists everywhere probably hated her guts right now.
Though, she sincerely doubted her pepper spray would be very effective on the absolute monsters baring their teeth down at her right now.
It took considerable effort not to piss herself.
Looking before her were bestial titans made of bone and exposed strips of flesh and muscle. They had to be at least the size of small vans, taking up huge amounts of the limited rooftop real estate, and were an odd, vaguely disturbing mixture of lizard and feline - full, drooling snouts, exposed nose slits, and teeth the size of her hands.
On their backs were four capes: a super tall, buff one in black leather and a skull mask, a blonde-haired girl in skin tight purple latex, an angry looking girl in flannel and a cheap dog mask, and finally, a slender, waifish looking boy(?) in a plastic Venetian mask, like the ones you'd get from carnival souvenir shops.
Taylor didn't immediately recognize them, which made her already twisted stomach do somersaults. Her head twitched to the left as her remaining bugs sensed Sword Man get his arm broken, a moment before he was sent flying away right into-
BOOM!
She'd managed to prepare her footing just in time for the building to shake, stone and glass breaking apart beneath their feet, but even she stumbled a little bit. With that it was up to Feather Guy, but her last remaining 'eyes' on the battle was dispersed by Lung setting himself on fire again.
There were only mosquitoes and bees now.
"They friends of yours?" The man in the skull mask asked, his deep voice creased with a wry curiosity. He'd already slid off of the back of his snarling mount, joined by his allies who'd all already jogged for the edge of the rooftop.
Taylor internally winced, heart and blood pounding in her brain as she backed away from the new players, but they completely ignored her - except for the blonde one in purple. The smirk on her face was both amused and wry, with a hint of smugness. Like a cat, or a fox. With her slim but soft lips, the expression was an attractive one. She didn't have the wide, expressionless mouth that Taylor had.
"Nah, not friends. Temporary allies, more likely. Bug Girl saw an opportunity to help them out with Lung and took it. Even feel a bit of camaraderie with them now, don't you?" The smug girl looked her up and down, a hint of something more serious glinting in her bottle green eyes.
It was impossible to say the wrong thing if she pleaded the fifth - it was one of the few things her dad actually taught her. So like a good newbie heroine, Taylor said nothing. The blondie shrugged, letting out a quiet giggle, and returned her attention back down to the street. Distantly, Taylor heard more gunshots began their oddly harmonic bursts once more.
Skull Mask crossed his arms over his wide chest, and somehow, Taylor got the idea that he wasn't one to be bothered by silence. "Huh. Regardless of who they are to you, you guys saved us a lot of pain. Asshole has had it out for us for a while now, and we heard he was gunning for us tonight. Figured we'd just say fuck it and meet him halfway. I usually like to plan shit out, but-"
WHISTLE!
"Get 'em, Judas!"
The roof shifted, and suddenly Taylor was watching the massive beast soar overhead, one powerful bound taking it from the top of three story building down to the ruined, fire-licked street down below. Taylor was caught between awkwardly listening to this massive skull guy talk to himself and worrying about the heroes down on the streets below, and that lizard-cat… thing was the perfect excuse to check up on things.
The guy in the skull apparently thought the same, because they both moved towards the edge at the same time.
"Fuck, what the hell did you guys do to him?" He swore softly, as they all watched in grim quiet as a fully-transformed Lung struggled to ward off the cojoined offense of both Judas and Feather Man. The dragon had to be over ten feet tall now, wicked silver nubs erupted from his shoulder blades and a long, prehensile tail carving lines in the blacktop, but overall, he looked… Horrible.
His silver scales were missing in huge, grotesque chunks, revealing shriveled, green-tinged skin that looked as if it was on the verge of sloughing off - the result of acid and whatever that bell-like power did. He was bleeding freely from several parts of his body, his four-pronged, alien-like maw was freely leaking bile, and Taylor was certain she could see parts of his ribcage where Sword Man kept clobbering him with his sword.
And that was before Judas started treating him like diseased road kill.
"Wasps, bees, fire ants, spider bites… all of that nastiness is fucking up his regeneration. He can't heal anymore," the blonde-haired girl suddenly spoke up, her voice low and disturbed. "And that other one-"
Feather Man gestured with his hand, his voice too quiet to hear over the snarling and roaring and fire, and another hand the size of an adult surged from the ground, wrapping around Lung's upper body and slamming him back down into the pavement before he could hit Judas.
What even were his powers?
"Corrosive acid damage. Some sort of… necrosis of the flesh? And the earth manipulation, but he teleported-" She shook her head, her lips pulling down into a cautious frown as she side-eyed Taylor. "Nice. First ever heroic team-up, and you pick a murderous Trump. Who actually isn't a hero. Some amazing luck you have there, Bugs."
Taylor's blood ran cold. "What?"
But blondie wasn't looking at her anymore. Her eyes were stuck on the fight below, where Sword Man was sprinting out of the destroyed storefront, each thundering step of his forming hairline cracks on the concrete.
"Grue," she hissed urgently, unable to look away. "We need to go. Now. Bitch, call Judas off."
She didn't like the fear in the girl's voice.
The tall, skull-masked man, 'Grue', looked over to his teammate. Although his face was hidden beneath the smooth surface of his helmet, the annoyance in his voice made it clear that he was frowning. "Lung's almost down for the count, Tats. Let Judas help these guys knock him out, then we can-"
Sword Man cracked the concrete beneath him when he crouched low and blasted into the air, easily clearing the height of the rooftop they were watching from as he swung his sword around, squared his aerial stance into a pseudo-flying position, and aimed the blade dead for Lung's prone, struggling form. He was falling now, and as Taylor watched with a distantly sick feeling in her chest, Feather Man whipped his left hand up, said something, and the cape falling towards Lung…
Was suddenly huge. Easily twice as tall and twice as wide, bulkier than even Lung in his transformed state, and his sword? Long enough to reach across the width of the street.
The blonde girl let out a humorless chuckle, the sound echoing alongside the pounding of blood in Taylor's head.
"He's dead. Hehe, we are so fucked."
And that was when the veritable Sword of Damocles fell.
CRAAAAACK!
The impact felt like it shook her entire world. What looked like crimson and black lightning filled the air around the battlefield, only barely visible through the massive cloud of dust. Debris flew like bullets, big and small chunks of blacktop and concrete scattering across the street and pelting the building they stood on. Taylor was dully aware of the voices around her, an argument brewing, but she didn't have the heart or mind to pay any attention to her new acquaintances.
She stared at the cloud of dust, nausea and anxiety nearly making her gag. 'Please, please, please…'
What sort of newbie independent started their career by committing involuntary manslaughter?
Somehow, she no longer felt so good about helping her fellow 'heroes'.
A sharp poke against her cheek nearly had Taylor, as skittish as she was, nearly falling off of the rooftop. It was the blonde girl again, her lips still turned up in that humorless smile, but her eyes and voice as serious as death itself. "Look. I know what you're feeling right now, and while I won't claim to be the most empathetic person, I understand. But we need to leave before the Protectorate gets here, and you need to come with us if you don't want this kind of heat. We sure as fuck don't."
The smoke cleared, the crimson and black sparks having already faded, and while the Sword Man-
While the villain was no longer huge, the same couldn't be said about the damage. That portion of the street was practically a crater now, looking more like a bomb had gone off, and Lung's body was-
Taylor swallowed bile.
"Quickly, Bugs. I can hear Armsmaste's motorcycle already, and trust me, you don't wanna be on the business end of his interrogations." The girl pulled on her shoulder, incessant and annoyed, and Taylor felt herself follow- wooden, numb, her face pallid and pale.
The next few minutes felt like a dream - or more like a nightmare. She vaguely remembered hopping on the back of 'Angelica', wrapping her arms around Tattletale's waist and clinging tight as they made a quick getaway.
Oh, and her name was Tattletale. TT for short. And the others were Grue, Regent, and Bitch. Tattletale apparently enjoyed the sound of her own voice.
They were villains, like the men she'd helped murder Lung tonight. But they were also teenagers, roughly around her age. The 'kids' Lung mentioned earlier, when she'd thought he was actually planning to torch an orphanage or something. They were criminals, yeah, but they weren't murderers, and they knew more about this whole thing than she did.
Distantly, in some logical part of her brain as Tattletale yapped on and on, Taylor pondered the wisdom of escaping with villains after helping villains kill a villain.
But she was scared. Scared, alone, and lost.
So she clung tighter to Tattletale's waist, forced her revulsion and anxiety deep into the pit of her stomach to ferment for a better time, and allowed herself to be taken away into places unknown.
At least, then, she would be far away from the murder scene she helped create.
Thomas Calvert
April 12th
Afternoon
Downtown
Thomas lived in two worlds, courtesy of his power. Given the way the Undersider's mission had been thrown so awry, he needed that division, as half of his perception was in his base as Coil, and the other half was in an emergency meeting within the PRT HQ.
The conference room he was sitting in was full to bursting. Nearly the entirety of the Protectorate roster, sans Dauntless, and the oldest of the current Wards, sat at the table. Dauntless was currently picking up the slack on the patrolling schedule, but otherwise Armsmaster, Velocity, Miss Militia, Assault, Battery, Triumph, and Velocity were present.
For the younger contingent, Gallant and Aegis represented the Wards, trusted enough to keep their peers informed. Normally they would have been informed of the contents of the meeting by the liaison to the Wards from the Protectorate ranks, but this was hardly a normal meeting, was it?
After all, it wasn't every day you spoke about a gang leader being so thoroughly regicided in their own territory. For years, Lung had hung as the uniting force behind the disparate elements of the ABB, having united the various Asian syndicates in the greater metropolitan area into a cogent force. They'd stood their ground against all comers, in no small part to their leader's power.
And now, just like that, he was dead. At the hands of two relative unknowns, to boot. To call it a power vacuum was an understatement, when it came to how this might sweep through the city's underground at large.
Naturally, he'd ensure he was the best suited to take advantage of these ripples. Chaos could throw many a plan into disarray, yet nothing that'd occurred so far was anything he wasn't prepared for.
Piggot sat at the head of the table, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Her gaze was somber, serious, but Thomas had been working with this woman for many, many years. He could tell by the setting of her flabby jaw and how her knee bounced incessantly beneath the table that she was angry. Resentful. Lung being dead was an arguable net positive for the Protectorate, who'd lost more than they'd won against the escalating villain, but the fact that two apparent villains killed him in their own right made the win seem hollow.
Poisoned.
He glanced down at the classified files laid out before him, and everyone else. There were two thin piles neatly placed right beside one another. At the top of the left pile was the designation, 'Hexlord', and on the right, 'Cavalier'.
"I don't think I need to reiterate why we're all here," Piggot spoke, looking into the faces of everyone at the table. Heroes, consultants, and other staff of the PRT and Protectorate, who'd shown up for this impromptu strategy meeting. "Lung is dead, and we've got a new power in the Bay."
Turning to Armsmaster, she gave the man minute nod. "Armsmaster, if you would?"
The blue-armored figure nodded back, standing up and gesturing to the projector. Changing from the blank, PRT-emblazoned surface, it showed an indistinct picture of two men. One, with a massive sword on his back, and the other with a more cloaked figure.
"Cavalier and Hexlord, formerly provisionally named Blade and Crow, came to our attention during their raid on a drug lab some days prior," the man explained. "Where they had a brief confrontation with Aegis and Kid Win, before making their escape."
Triggering the next slide, it showed off the crime scene photographs of the drug lab in question. If nothing else, Coil had seen worse. For some of the Wards, though, it was clear that they may not have been ready for the pictures shown.
Several bodies, with deep lacerations and cuts littered a living room. Blood splatter dripped down the walls, making it seem more like a slaughterhouse than a home. Also notable was a total lack of any of the equipment, which had been more or less lifted en masse from the scene.
"We were aware of them at this time, but had assumed that the presumed brothers would lie low after this encounter with the Wards," he continued, the lower half of his face setting into a grim line. "In this, our models were wildly incorrect."
The next slide was more a video than anything else, showing off a brief shaky-cam view of Lung swiping away Cavalier. Said swordsman was sent flying through the air, and out of sight with a deafening crash as he slammed into the front of a store. Most of the street seemed to be nothing but fire, debris, and the picture of bizarre flashes of green energy soaring through the air.
In the video, the sound of the observer was muffled, but the general explosions and roar of Lung's gradually growing figure came through clear as day, swiping and lunging for a nimble Hexlord that almost seemed to dance around his attacks. Personally, Thomas had always boggled at the logic of anyone who'd run in close to dangerous Cape fights to get footage…but trawling PHO threads was useful at the very least for their purposes.
The images swapped, this time showing new footage. Huge, spiked beasts, instantly recognizable for anyone in the city proper. "Hellhound's dogs," Velocity breathed.
"Yes," Armsmaster nodded. "They engaged Lung seemingly on the side of Cavalier, Hexlord, and the third, unknown insect-controlling parahuman."
An unexpected clash, but one Coil wasn't unwilling to take advantage of. Doubly so if it meant he could press the young Villains into a corner, and further their reliance on him. "Does this mean that they're working alongside the brothers in some capacity?"
Nearby, Assault gave a low scoff. "Going from B&E to cold-blooded murder is a helluva leap, don't you think?"
Thomas cleared his throat, to add a little to the conversation. "Well, to my understanding, Hellhound already has bodies behind her, does she not?" Never mind that a halfway capable lawyer could get deaths related to a Trigger event thrown out in court.
For that reason, he aimed to have her seen as a mad dog.
The blue-armored Tinker spoke up, if only to interrupt the tangent. "Either way, we're unsure if this was an organized assistance, or merely an attack of opportunity for the Undersiders. Until we know for sure our operating objectives remain unchanged regarding them."
While Rachel Lindt was perhaps the only heavy-hitter on the team, they did have other advantages. Their mobility as a unit, and ability to get away from pursuit was nearly unmatched in the Bay. It made them perfect for heists in many respects, even if they couldn't stand easily against truly hard targets.
"What is important is the aftermath of the fight." With one final click, the scene changed to show the headless, gruesome corpse of a familiar figure. Lung, defeated at long last.
"It goes without saying," Piggot spoke, leveling a steady gaze at everyone present. "That the rules of engagement have changed."
A meaningful hum escaped Miss Militia, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing in consideration. "At the very least, we're going to have to boost their ratings. For Cavalier, likely somewhere in the range of Brute 5, maybe 6, and some sort of Striker for his final attack. Meanwhile, Hexlord's bag of tricks have seemed to only grow, and the ice he froze us in - it was tough. Cold enough to burn my skin raw with the frost. We were frozen there for at least three minutes before help arrived."
"I've already started planning a countermeasure to some of the abilities he's shown," Armsmaster grunted, his voice more than a little frustrated. A sneer curled his thin lips down into a scowl as he eyed the file in front of him, one finger tapping incessantly against the stack of papers. "So far his powers seem the most varied out of the two, and the list has grown longer since we've last seen them; the ability to generate and control unnaturally durable ice formations, the ability to generate and throw orbs of corrosive acid strong enough to melt through metal, some form of necrosis inducement that rots the body from the inside out…"
Lung's disgusting, half-sloughed corpse was evidence enough of that last part.
A few people's faces grew paler with nausea and fear, but Thomas stayed well composed. He knew the thought going through everyone's mind, and for once, he found himself being on a similar wavelength to the braying sheep he was forced to call co-workers for now.
"Trump," he spoke the word aloud, coolly glancing over to Armsmaster and Miss Militia, "Though, what rating to give him remains the question."
Assault butted in with his opinion before the two could say a single word. "The same as his partner, right? Trump 6 means he should only be engaged by one of us, or one of us and a team of troopers. Sounds about right for Mister Jazz Hands. Going by what we've seen, I dunno if the Wards are up for this level of tomfoolery. And no offense to our guys in black, but a squadron of normal soldiers with containment foam probably won't cut it either."
"Trumps are unpredictable," Battery agreed, giving her husband a side-eyed glance. When he only blinked and waggled his brow, she sighed and looked at the other heroes and staff, expression serious. "We don't know what they're capable of alone since they've always been together when confronted, but neither seem like the 'surrender peacefully' types. Them killing Lung sets a precedent. I agree with Trump 6 as a Primary Rating for Hexlord. For now."
"Agreed." Piggot leaned back, crossing her arms over her sizable midsection.
Miss Militia briskly nodded. "Sounds good to me."
"Mhm," Armsmaster grunted.
Velocity shook his head, one hand ineffectually massaging at the padded forehead of his helmet. "They're dangerous. And they're hungry. First a drug lab, and now Lung's missing a head… The Docks are going to be Hell these next few days. ABB's gonna be hankering for blood. We still don't know what these guys even want. Power? Money? Drugs?"
"Oh! That reminds me- thank you, Velocity." The bandana-wearing heroine perked up, her dark brown eyebrows furrowing as she lightly tapped her fist against her palm. "Hexlord; He mentioned something after freezing us. He mentioned his father. 'We make our father proud with the slaying of an angry dragon, and the inevitable subjugation of his undeserving kingdom.'"
Those words gave everyone pause, as they all sought to parse them. Assault glanced between the group as a whole though, lips tight. "...I mean, if no one's gonna say it, I will. Are we sure these aren't Marquis's kids?"
Which was an idea, to be sure. Thomas hadn't even thought of the legacy of that man coming back to strike the Bay after all these years. Then again, in his day Marquis had been something of a lothario if you followed the rumor mill. The notion that he'd left some of his get in the city, knowingly or otherwise…
Well, he didn't know how true that theory was. But he could tell that it had captured the attention and imagination of the group as a whole.
"That's just wild speculation for now," Piggot stated, even if the slight tightening of her expression spoke to some level of suspicion toward the idea. "However, it might be in our interest to do some investigation on Marquis's civilian identity. Discrete, careful investigation, just to be sure."
This was toeing at the edge of the Unwritten Rules, and wouldn't make Piggot any friends if it was found out. Which was precisely why Thomas nodded. "A very good idea, ma'am."
The fact that she looked like she was sucking on a lemon when he agreed with her? Icing on the cake.
"More importantly, I think we should be aware that there's going to be some serious moves into the Docks by the Empire, once news gets out," Battery added. "They've never had the ability to consolidate power like this."
"This implies that Cavalier and Hexlord won't move to take the territory for themselves," Velocity commented.
A noncommittal hum escaped Armsmaster. "Right now, this is just all speculation. We need more concrete, actionable objectives, to whit I've worked alongside the Director to create new rapid-response plans, for when the Bay inevitably kicks off. They'll go into effect after the fundraiser."
As the conversation turned into the nitty gritty of their plans, Thomas only kept a cursory ear out for anything important. For his end of things, though, he had a few plans he could set in motion to keep these interlopers busy…
Sitting behind his desk, he looked at Tattletale, scrutinizing the girl. Contrary to what she might have thought happened, he had to be intelligent and tactful in his handling of the girl in his throwaway timelines. Through more than a little practice, he'd discovered that she was able to realize when she was being simulated in a timeline he didn't intend to keep…but only if she was able to put together all the clues.
So, he did his best to stay impassive, and merely stare at her, as she looked back at him. They stewed in that uncomfortable silence for a few more moments, until he chose to speak.
"What happened?"
He wasn't angry, or disappointed, or feeling much of anything toward Lung's death. It'd been an unexpected variable in his plans, yes, but the Dragon of the ABB had always been a threat to his plans of dominion in Brockton Bay. His removal merely meant that his other timetables needed to be appropriately adjusted.
"You don't have your own reports to tell you?" Tattletale snarked.
He shrugged, a lazy motion from behind his desk. "I do. But I want to hear from you, what you personally observed. In your own words."
The blonde supervillain paused, lips pursing together as her eyebrows furrowed together in thought. "We dealt with Oni Lee, and got away. That went according to plan. Now, I'm pretty sure that Lung was attempting to cordon us off, if only so he could deal with us himself."
"Until the interlopers arrived."
She snorted. "That's a word for them, sure. The Bug Girl wasn't with the other duo, but her attack on Lung was a trigger for them to assault him in turn."
Hmm. So they weren't dealing with a group large enough to be their own gang of players in the city, but something smaller. "Let's begin with the girl. What did you manage to learn about her?"
"Desperate, in every sense of the word. There's a strong chance she went out there to try and get herself killed that night, in a blaze of glory," Tattletale explained. "Lonely, and not particularly used to using her powers in combat. Either new to town, or a new Trigger in general, but not recent. Her costume's had too much work put into it."
"Her powers and mental state?"
"Stable, I guess. Some sort of insect-controlling Master, but I couldn't speak to her maximum range at the moment. After the end of the fight, she was definitely frazzled enough to ride off with us, even if she sees herself as a Heroine."
He could think of quite a few ways a powerset like that could be useful—another tool in his arsenal of superhuman troubleshooters. "How likely do you think you could co-opt her?"
Tattletale raised her hand, tilting it from side to side. "Eh, it could go either way. If Lung had just been beaten into the ground, she would have been fine, but the way he'd died spooked her something fierce. But if you want it, I could likely try and get her to join. She's lonely enough to find some sort of justification for joining us on her own."
Not entirely unexpected as a result. He'd been fortunate and cunning enough to assemble the Undersiders, who by the numbers were one of the larger factions of parahumans in the city. Once his bargain with the Travelers had panned out, he'd have even more assets under his umbrella.
Even if Tattletale failed to recruit this Bug controller, well, there were other means of finding the leverage to use her assets for his own ends.
"That's enough about the girl. Tell me about the brothers."
They were the real purpose he'd even had this meeting. Out of nowhere, for seemingly no reason at all, two complete unknowns came in and beheaded Lung. In the process, they'd upended the delicate balance. And, if they managed to kill Lung it meant that they were strong.
But every Cape had a silver bullet with their name on it. A weakness, some lack or blindspot, that you could drive a knife toward to topple them. It might not be today, or tomorrow, but eventually he'd find that weakpoint.
After all, Coil had all the time in the world.
Tattletale grimaced, glancing away. "...They're strong. If I had to guess, some sort of Trump. Category Ten, maybe somewhere in the range of the mid-ranges right now in terms of threat rating. That won't last."
"Oh?"
"Both of them have some sort of…progression element, going on. The one with the big sword was briefly debilitated after they killed Lung, where his body transformed, and it wasn't something he'd been expecting."
This was…more worrisome. The number of parahumans whose powers could scale endlessly were small. Tinkers, when given enough time to study and hone their technological prowess, could be counted among them. More commonly though, it was in the form of terrifying Trumps like Moord Nag, or Eidolon. Just being put in the same sentence as those powerhouses, even if they weren't quite there yet, spoke to their level of potential.
It also was a clear indictment of his need to have some sort of leverage on them. A loved one he could threaten, a weakness he could target, or a power that could handle them. "Did you notice anything of use?"
The unspoken question was, 'Did you notice anything I can use to kill them'. Thankfully, Tattletale didn't make him say the quiet part out loud.
"Their power-ups are probably tied to conflict to some degree, like other Capes like them. I also can't speak to whether or not their power-ups are permanent. They might only be temporary, but I really can't say that for sure. And…"
"And?"
"There's a Thinker-aspect going on, when they got their boost after the fight. A moment of distraction, if you could time it right. Or, just bring in a heavy enough weapon to deal with them. Explosives, All-Or-Nothing power, stuff like that."
"Hmm." He hummed softly, pausing to give the situation some thought. It wasn't truly untenable yet, and given that he was gearing up for his newest acquisition, chances were he was just going to have to be patient for more answers. Once he'd acquired another Thinker, though…
They could begin to pry a little deeper into the best way to deal with this new and dangerous element into the equation of Brockton Bay.
"Continue to look into the brothers," Thomas nodded, hands clasped over his desk. "For now, you're dismissed."
"You got it, boss." With that, Tattletale began to make her exit. And for Thomas, he prepared to look at whatever business he needed to attend to in this timeline.
No matter what happened, though? He'd ensure that Coil would come out on top.
Salvatore
Afternoon
April 14th
When my brother and I had a plan, we didn't tend to dally on implementing it. For Angelo, that meant he was chomping at the bit to take the crown from Skidmark. He found the Merchants offensive on a professional level that I'm not sure I could ever reach, seeing their continued existence as an affront to him.
I, however, arguably had the harder task. Rescuing Dinah.
Dinah Alcott was one of the strongest Thinkers on the planet, by the dint of having busted precognition. It was the sole reason why a Thinker like Coil even wanted to capture her because her power would help refine his already impressive power to new heights. Denying him that asset was just the smart thing to do.
Besides that, though, there were more moral reasons why I felt so driven to do this. It was one thing if we killed and maimed career criminals throughout our operations. That was the price you paid for being in this life, and I didn't begrudge anyone over that reality.
It was another thing entirely to snatch a little girl out of her home, addict her to drugs, and call her your pet. That sort of thing turned my stomach, and just the thought of it happening to me or, god forbid Angelo made my blood boil.
Maybe I was just too soft for this line of work, and for some supervillains on Earth Bet, doing that sort of shit was just Tuesday. I wouldn't deny that when it came to the weak and helpless, I had a little bit of a heroic streak. But
But now, having that sort of mentality wasn't a bad thing. The hard part for me was following through on the sentiment, because I've spent the last few days cyber-stalking a preteen girl.
…
Wait. I swear it isn't as bad as it sounds.
I couldn't just summon up the answers to where Dinah lived from the ether, like my brother's wizard bullshit. There was a degree of research involved, mostly in my looking for information on the mayor. Dinah was like…his niece, if I remember things right.
They were definitely a public family, too. Real upstanding members of the community, showing up in all sorts of socialite events, and coming from a relatively well-to-do sort of background. Then again, coming from some degree of means was a given since Rory's father had the connections to reach out to Cauldron.
Anyway, stalking a child and her parents took up most of the last few days. I got the schedule of when middle schools let out around the city and tracked down information about what both parents did for a living so I could get their contact details. I'd almost given up on finding an address until I realized that the dad's forwarding address was their actual home.
At that point it was just a matter of waiting for something to happen. Snatching Dinah before a bunch of mercenaries busted in to kidnap her would make me seem like some sort of sicko. Rescuing her from Tinkertech-wielding criminals was a much better look all around.
I think.
We were definitely going to be dancing on eggshells, until I could throw some questions her way, and ensure she knew we didn't mean her any harm. In her shoes, I wouldn't trust me as far as I could throw me either. Still, there really weren't any better options considering the situation at hand.
That situation being Coil and his no-good, bullshit power.
From Coil's perspective, his power allowed him to split the world into two timelines, and do whatever he liked in both. In reality, his Shard was cheating by just simulating two timelines in vivid detail and predicting which timeline Coil would rather keep. It then effectively autopilots him into taking the actions in the timeline he picks, lasting through to the end of the timeline.
Regarding antagonists, he had one of the more painful Thinker powers to work around. It was nice that a lot of the risk and danger from Lisa and Taylor working around his power was already done since I knew how it worked. I also learned how to beat it, which was more important.
As long as you committed to a plan of action in the future, like days in advance, and carried it through no matter what? You were doing the exact same thing in both timelines, forcing him to contend with your actions in both timelines. Theoretically, you could overload his power with attacks on so many vectors that he didn't have the ability to contend with them. If we had the manpower to do that though, we would have had more options at our disposal.
For now, I was stuck getting things done the old-fashioned way. I was driving onto the scene in a shitty, beat-up white panel van and kidnapping a twelve-year-old for their own good.
…Nah, there's not a good way to make this sound palatable in a vacuum, is there?
Sitting inside of the van, fixed up enough to the point where it wasn't a glaring eyesore in the neighborhood, I was mostly killing time. Big sunglasses were covering my face, and I had to cringe at how distinctly suspicious I undoubtedly looked…but needs must. Honestly, I'd been expecting some sort of action for the last thirty minutes or so, whenever I'd caught a glimpse of Dinah.
She looked like any other kid her age. Short, with straight, brown hair, and green eyes, and dressed like how you would expect. There I was, waiting for Coil's mercs to pounce, because they were probably more subtle than I was.
And then…they just didn't.
That was when I got a little paranoid about this haphazard operation. Did I blow my cover? Did Coil get spooked, or otherwise choose to change his plan? I'd thought my decision to cement myself to this course of action would have been made long enough in advance to beat his power, but who the fuck knew with Thinkers?
Just when I was threatening to spiral off into my own worries, god decided to throw me a bone. With the sort of clockwork precision that might have boggled lesser men, two SUV's pulled up in front of the Alcott household. Out came mercenaries, jackbooted and equipped with gleaming, clean rifles. Coil's men were former military from what I recalled, with all of the training that sort of background entailed.
Now we were at the question of who would win. A squad of extremely trained operatives, equipped with lasers, or one teenage idiot with a bigass sword? Time to find out.
The rest of my costume was basically in place, as I swapped out my glasses for my mask, stepping out of the van. And inside of me, I felt my CE begin to flow like never before.
Since that fight with Lung, and I'd landed a Black Flash, my actual control of CE had…refined.
It felt as if it came to my beck and call quicker, with the heightened efficiency that it entailed. In Jujutsu Kaisen, landing a Black Flash was the quickest and surest way to gain some kind of personal enlightenment regarding your techniques. Among the pantheon of shonen power systems, Cursed Energy stood out among all others as the battle junkie's system of choice.
I was happy with the change, as it made a difference in every single aspect of using CE. Even if the degrees of improvement were only fractional, every little bit mattered. That was made all the more evident as I began to speed up, breaking into a dead sprint toward the mercs.
Professionals as they were, some of them were on overwatch on the street. Even as four of the eight were breaching into the house, two of them seeming to cut around to the back for the same purpose, the last two were sharp enough to spot me coming. Then again, I wasn't even remotely being subtle.
"CONTACT!" One of them yelled, getting the attention of the various thugs. The two were lifting up their rifles, training them on me even as I moved to close the distance between us.
As for the rest of the crew, two of the four breaking into the front split off, moving to provide fire support. The others rushed inside, likely eager to accomplish their mission.
Altogether, these weren't just some random druggies off the street that I could beat with my normal tactics. Coil had spent a lot of time recruiting killers, actual fighters that knew what they were doing in a scrap, and could engage a target with military precision.
That was smart of him when you realized most parahumans were remarkably weak to even a simple handgun. It didn't matter how good of a Social Thinker you were if someone could just blow your brains out. Angelo and I were outliers in terms of how tough we were by comparison. But I wasn't so crazy as to presume that my toughness extended to surviving an onslaught of riflefire from veterans.
So, I didn't even bother trying.
Burning lasers burned through the air, the smell of ozone acrid in my nostrils. They were good shots. But prone to shooting where I'd be rather than where I was.
When they'd trained their weapons on me, I'd raised my Devil Arm and shot forth a burst of blue light. A spectral gauntly grabbed the side of the home and sent me rocketing through the air, aimed for a window on the second floor. Fighting them on an open street was the height of idiocy, especially when I was the only real target.
Fighting off a bunch of armed mercs in the close confines of a suburban home was a very different scenario. One I'd say was downright favorable to me, given how much my powerset leaned toward CQC.
The window I crashed into couldn't have hoped to resist my bulk, as I rolled onto the floor of a bedroom. It was likely Dinah's parents, judging by the complete and utter lack of childish items lying around the space.
Nearby, I could hear one of them yelling to the rest of the crew. "Cape's breached the building! Weapons hot, people!"
Ugh. It was the worst, fighting competent people.
The most significant advantage I had over them was sheer, raw speed. I wasn't as fast as my brother, but when reinforced, I was definitely in the superhuman territory in terms of eating up the distance.
Bursting out of the parent's bedroom, I found myself at one end of the hallway, where there was a mercenary with a rifle coming up at the other end. The moment he saw me, though? He dropped to a knee and started laying down fire. "Found him!"
The centering on his shots was a beauty to behold, but I'd already placed the buster sword between myself and those blasts. It was big enough and wide enough to be used as a shield, albeit awkwardly, with the kind of durability that made it a perfectly viable weapon to wield against demigods. Some mild lasers couldn't compare.
My feet were thundering across the space of the hallway as I closed the distance between us. From the widening of the man's eyes behind his mask, he was trying to step back down the stairs awkwardly. Not fast enough to stop me from closing the distance, or nimbly enough to dodge when I raised my Devil Arm from behind my makeshift shield.
Shooting forth, my spectral arm slammed into him, making the man drop his gun with a grunt. I had him now; frankly, I'd needed someone to test my newest perk against. The would-be kidnapper had thankfully volunteered.
Devil Buster Style was all about overpowering strength and might, from what I remembered of Devil May Cry 4. It wasn't an elegant way of slaying Devils, not in the slightest. It was all of Nero's savagery thrown into a blender until he found something generously called a cohesive combat style.
Compared to what it was usually designed for, using it here felt like overkill.
In a moment, the man's arms were trapped by his sides as he was held aloft by my Devil Arm's specter. I could see the fear in his eyes, wholly justified fear, as he stared down at me behind his black balaclava. Given what I knew they were here to do, and who they'd be handing Dinah off to if they caught her…
My mercy was all tapped out for these guys.
Like a ragdoll, I whipped him against the floor and wall, slamming him with the kind of might that undoubtedly broke bones. That was if he was lucky, given the sheer ferocity and speed that my Devil Buster could inflict.
He certainly wasn't strong enough to escape the grasp, so the only thing that was left to him was yelling in pain. Wood and plaster splintered from the bone-rattling impacts, as I directed my Devil Arm to slam him to and fro, enough that the rapid sounds of carnage echoed throughout the house.
At least until his head slammed against one of the steps, and he was out like a light. Dead or broken beyond the capability to fight, either result was acceptable as far as I was concerned. Tossing the man's body onto the steps, I hastily turned around and looked back at the hallway I'd just rushed down.
Which room was Dinah's…?
After checking the first few doors, it wasn't until the third that I recognized that the room belonged to a young girl—there were too many pastels and lighter colors and some plushies on a pillow. There were even signs of someone having been here, judging by the backpack on the bed, which had hastily opened up. But no Dinah.
Hmm.
"What are the odds that I'm here purely to rescue you from being Coil's drug-addicted slave, with no intention of doing anything but keeping you safe until he's dealt with?"
Speaking to the air like this would typically make me look a little goofy. But I had a bit of a hunch, one that was almost immediately rewarded as I heard a small, timid voice come from the nearby closet.
"Ninety-five point three percent."
"Gotcha."
Locking the bedroom door behind me, I immediately rushed over to the closet and opened it to find Dinah doing her best to curl up inside. It made me feel awful on all kinds of levels, because, from her perspective, what did I look like? Some villain, undoubtedly here to kidnap her. It didn't matter if she knew what the numbers said; all that mattered was how she felt then.
Times like this made me question if Angelo and I made the right decision to be villains. Who wanted children to look at them with fear in their eyes?
"Listen, we don't have a lot of time," I hastily responded, glancing back at the door. If I concentrated, I could hear the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs. "Some very bad men are coming to take you to an even worse man."
"How do I know you're not bad?" Dinah shot back, eyes focused on me.
"You don't," I admitted with a shrug. "Not gonna ask you to trust me, because god knows I haven't earned it. I'm asking you to trust the numbers in your head. Are they ever wrong?"
And we both knew the answer to that. Kid Cassandra here was a lot of things, but the numbers in her head didn't lie. They could be misinterpreted or misjudged with a margin of error, yet the high percentages tended to be outright statistical certainties. When I was checking to see if she was in the room, there was a reason I asked such a particular question.
"They're never wrong," she nodded, with the certainty that could only come with a Thinker's inbuilt faith in their own powers. "But what do they even mean?"
I hummed softly, moving to grab her bed with my Devil Buster and hastily drag it in front of the door. Right on time, as someone literally tried to kick the door in seconds after. The sudden slam against the wood made her jump, before I turned my attention back to her.
"You're a parahuman. No idea how you got powers, but you did, and complaining about your headaches at school and the hospital got you on the radar of a supervillain."
"My headaches actually do stuff?"
"Your headaches are just the symptom of your power being overused for the day," I reassured her. "That power being your numbers. However, it's not great for defending yourself."
Her lips were pursed, even if she twitched and jumped every time the door was slammed against by mercenaries. We had…maybe a minute or two, until they started to resort to heavier methods of gaining entrance. Even with my Devil Buster holding things against the door, I had some doubts it'd hold up to full-grown men using all their force on the wood.
"How do I know that you're looking to use it for the same reason?"
"Again, you don't," I freely admitted once more. If she was a Sorcerer, I could technically enter into a Binding Vow with her, but that wasn't a solution we had at the moment. "But I'm at least trying to talk with you. Are you going to take a chance with the guys trying to break in here?"
That, more than anything else, sealed her decision. I could tell she was still terrified, but there was a difference between being terrified and being too scared to make a decision.
"...I'll trust the numbers," Dinah breathed out, looking more terrified of that admission more than anything else. "Just this once."
"Atta' girl," I grinned, putting my sword on my back, and then reaching out to heft her up with my free arm. "Now, let's kick this popsicle stand."
"...Is it too late to be kidnapped by the other guys?"
I scoffed, turning to the window in her room. "Let me have my action hero moment."
My exit plan was admittedly simple in its elegance. There was a big, underutilized portion of CE and being a Jujutsu Sorcerer that I hadn't touched yet: barriers.
Effectively, barriers were zones and territories of specific sizes and possible effects that anyone with enough CE could learn to use and create. Most of the time, stuff like Curtains were used to keep the crazy fights with Curses out of the public eye, making it so people didn't notice what was happening inside them. I planned on using the more complex technique of creating a conditional barrier for my ends.
This wasn't an art I was tremendously confident with, outside of a few practice sessions with Angelo. That was why I kept the barrier relatively simple, dumping a good chunk of my CE supply into its creation. The rule that ruled it was that anyone under 18 was allowed to come and go freely from the barrier, whereas everyone older than that was stuck inside.
If there were more Jujutsu Sorcerers running around, something this haphazard would have never flown. Or, more practically, never been remotely effectively given there were under eighteen Special-Grade Sorcerers skipping around the setting. Given the complete and utter lack of anything that resembled a contemporary for me…?
I felt good about the possibility for this plan to work.
Raising my devilish hand, I began the chant in earnest. "Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."
Outside, I could see the day begin to turn to night, or at least dusk, as the Curtain began to fall over the house and sidewalk, just big enough to capture the cars in front of the home too. Dinah's expression was no less confused, as she looked up at me to squint my way.
"Did you turn it into nighttime with that edgy chant or something?"
"Or something," I nodded, adjusting my arm around her abdomen. "This is our escape plan."
"By turning it to night?" She questioned. God, what was with all the third-degree, kid?
"By making sure they can't follow us. You'll see."
As for our egress, I'm sure the Alcott's would have some kind of home insurance. If not, they were loaded enough to pay for the repairs to the home. With my sword on my back, Dinah under my right arm, and my left arm rearing back…I punched forward. Buster Style was a blunt instrument, and I intended to use it to blow open a path for us merely. Wood and splinters went flying, and Dinah realized what I was planning on doing, as she began to squirm in my arm with animal panic.
"Wait, wait, wait-!"
Her girlish shriek filled the air as I leaped out of the hole in the wall, a raucous chuckle leaving me in turn, as I landed in the front lawn. If it weren't for my body being reinforced, I absolutely would have shattered my ankles, dropping down a story like this. Instead, I just grunted from the impact, Dinah's scream dying out under my arm.
"Oh. That…wasn't so baaaaAAAD!" Her words were cut off, as toward the tail end I started to sprint. Not at normal human speeds, but Sorcerer ones. The reason for this was, really, quite simple.
Most of the mercenaries were very much still standing. While I felt somewhat confident in my odds of defeating them if I cheated like a motherfucker, defeating them while protecting another person was a different story altogether. Success here wasn't measured in whether or not I could beat them, anyway. It was measured on whether or not I managed to get Dinah away to safety.
Looking at the situation like that was a good balm on my pride.
Glancing over my shoulder, I could see the various crew members on overwatch had realized that I'd exited. Distantly, I heard them communicating over the crackle of a radio, but there was no point in trying to stick around and listen to what they were saying. Getting away seemed like it was a better idea.
Sprinting away, none of them bothered to shoot at me either. Why? Probably because any errant shot at me might end up hitting Dinah, which was the entire purpose for this mission in the first place. They couldn't benefit if the girl was dead.
It felt callous counting on her as a living shield, yet if the alternative was her ending up in Coil's care…? Well, she might not trust me, but once she'd asked herself a few questions about the man later, I didn't think she'd have a lot of problems sticking around until we dealt with the man. We weren't saints, but we did have standards.
The moment we crossed out of the barrier, the sudden daylight made my eyes blink a few times as I hauled ass toward the white panel van. Dinah did the same, looking back at the barrier with confusion. "Huh? Shouldn't they be shooting, or…trying to follow?"
"Why? If they hit you, there goes the entire point in trying to kidnap you." Sure, Coil had medical personnel on staff, yet were they good enough to heal laser wounds?
"Oh." Her voice was small, as that realization sank in, and I hastily opened the back of the van, ushering her in. "Do you know how long I'm going to have to stay away?"
I shook my head. "Not in the slightest. But you know enough from the numbers that we're not planning on keeping you any longer than we need to."
"...Right." Just from the sound of her voice, the decided lack of trust was audible as I headed into the driver's seat and hastily began to drive away. Given the fact that we weren't being immediately followed, though, it seemed as if my makeshift barrier had actually worked.
They were trapped behind us, for minutes at most. Enough time for us to escape in spades, though. Replacing my mask with my sunglasses, I started us toward the Docks. Getting to the Docks was necessary, mainly so we could ditch this van and meet back up with my brother. More importantly, my thoughts turned back to Dinah, as I glanced up at the girl from the rear view mirror.
Gaining her trust was going to take some time. Technically, this was just a kidnapping from another perspective. From the perspective of literally everyone but me, when you thought about it.
God, Angelo really lucked out going to deal with the Merchants.
I sighed, even as a new pop-up appeared in my vision.
[HIDDEN QUEST COMPLETED: SOOTHSAYER]
[RESCUE DINAH ALCOTT FROM COIL'S MERCENARIES.]
[REWARD: 1x Minor Dominion Perk]
Spoiler: The Strong Must Rule!
This wasn't a bad surprise, when it came to possible perks. I wasn't expecting what could basically serve as an analog to Vicky's aura, but I didn't dislike it on principle either. The best I could describe it, there was a switch inside of me to release that sort of anime-esque killing intent, or persuasive charisma. Useful for your average mook, though I was a little worried if it'd even effect all but the most weakminded parahumans at all.
For now though, I drove on, curious as to how my brother was handling things on his end.
Compared to sitting in a van with a tweenager that I wasn't kidnapping, I'd take busting skulls any day of the week.