Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Mike God of Lore, Marethyu, Priapus, Beans
The Celestial Conquest
Chapter 04: Pharaoh's Bay
– Sarah Pelham (Lady Photon) –
Things had changed massively over the last month.
It wasn't that she wasn't used to rapid changes in the cape scene. She'd been active during Marquis' reign and in the chaos that had followed his imprisonment. She'd seen Brockton Bay's cape scene change a dozen times over, but never like this.
Her eyes went up to the bubble that was currently covering the entire city. Some tinkertech device made to keep the Black Pyramid from simply flying out of the containment zone. After everything Brockton Bay had been through, this was the final blow. The rest of the world had just locked them inside and called it a day.
She didn't blame them, in truth. Not after the destruction of the Rig; Pharaoh's constant escalation had to be stopped. He could turn the Black Pyramid invisible and simply crash it into any PRT headquarters he wanted, so they had to stop him from continuing his war on capes. It still felt like a bad dream that almost the entire Brockton Bay Protectorate had been wiped out.
It was a minor miracle that the Wards hadn't been called to the emergency meeting, having been at the Wards' base in the city instead of being in the Rig. As far as they could tell, all adult members had been within the Rig when the Pyramid had crashed into it, and there had been no survivors.
No villain had ever wiped out an entire Protectorate team in a single blow before. Not the Nine, not Nilbog, nobody. So, no. She didn't blame the PRT for simply locking Pharaoh inside America's newest containment zone, not even when it meant that she and her entire family were equally trapped within.
Still, it didn't change the fact that life had become extremely difficult for those trapped with him. The PRT made frequent drops of food and supplies into the city, and they still had power and water, but it was no exaggeration to say that anarchy reigned within Brockton Bay for the first couple of weeks.
The Teeth had moved in just before the containment zone was raised, answering a challenge by Pharaoh. Lung and the ABB had still been active and fighting at the time, but at the end of the day? It was a losing battle. Within a week, the Teeth had lost every cape except the Butcher herself. Oni Lee had been slain by the risen Allfather, and Lung himself had been killed by the undead Purity and Miss Militia. The Butcher was still alive, as far as anyone knew, despite repeated attempts to get themselves killed by Pharaoh.
Every gang member was killed and then raised as part of Pharaoh's undead army, and very quickly they'd learnt to stop wearing gang colours or anything that could identify them as a member of any gang. With the extinction of the ABB and the Teeth, an uneasy calm had settled over the city.
Undead soldiers and capes patrolled the streets at all hours of the day, never resting, but with no real gangs left, they left the civilians alone. The Black Pyramid itself hovered over the city, a constant reminder of their new overlord.
For most, they'd been forced to accept the simple reality that Brockton Bay was under the control of the Pharaoh. Some civilians even joked that the streets were safer now than ever before, as the undead only attacked criminals and capes. Who was willing to try looting when there were undead seemingly on every street?
But there was a resistance, the few surviving capes working on a way to bring down Pharaoh and free themselves from this place. Coil had reached out to New Wave almost immediately after the bubble had been erected, but of course… Carol had refused.
No matter the situation, Carol would not work with a villain. She'd refused for New Wave, without even discussing it with the rest of them. It had been short-sighted of her. Mark vanished first. Apparently, he'd just gone for a walk of all things, and never came back. That had led to arguments, as Coil had offered his hidden bunkers for the surviving capes.
Next, Crystal had been grabbed. She hadn't gone out in costume, but she'd heard some of her friends from college were in trouble and had gone to try and help, hoping that staying out of costume would let her move freely.
It did not.
The moment a cape poked their heads out of hiding, Pharaoh and his army were waiting. Pharaoh had even used Crystal as bait, parading her and some other captured capes (Squealer and some independents) through the streets, chained to pillars on moving platforms as they were led toward the Black Pyramid.
Coil had warned them not to take the bait. This time, it had been she who'd ignored him, not Carol.
That was how they lost Neil and Carol. Skidmark and Mush had also been caught in an attempt to free Squealer, and the Butcher was once again ignored. Well, that was an understatement. Pharaoh had her eyes gouged out and arms cut off, but had used Othala to keep the Butcher alive.
The Butcher had managed to disappear in the chaos, and she'd been forced to fall back as Coil and his Undersiders ran interference. Her sister, daughter and husband were dragged into that Pyramid, and it took off into the sky once more, leaving her helpless to stop it.
This time, she accepted Coil's offer. All that was left of New Wave was her, Eric, Amy and a comatose Victoria, hiding in Coil's hidden bunker as they tried to find a way to bring down Pharaoh.
She knew Crystal and Carol were still alive, though she had not seen Neil since his fall. Pharaoh liked to give speeches, and at a recent one, he'd had Carol and Crystal in chains to show his power. It was a humiliating sight, especially given that they had only been wearing a thin silk loincloth and golden jewellery. He'd even had their nipples pierced and golden ring piercings placed on them, leaving them topless for everyone to see. The only comfort she could take was that they were still living.
Tattletale claimed neither had been sexually assaulted, and that the display was made to shame them and to try and lure the rest of New Wave out of hiding. She didn't like the extremely talkative blonde villain, but she couldn't deny that Tattletale was good at her job.
So, here she was, the 'leader' of New Wave, cowering in a villain's bunker, praying for a miracle.
– King Darius –
Sitting on my throne, I look over the city with a frown.
My skeleton workers have begun erecting monuments to me, tearing down the many abandoned buildings and rebuilding them in my image. Most of the capes of Brockton Bay have been brought down, though some still hide from my judgment like the rats they are.
With the points from taking down the few that were dumb enough to poke their heads out (meaning the entire roster of the Teeth, Merchants and the ABB), my Tomb is a thing of true beauty and power.
[Golden Cap]
The desert sun beats down without rest on the Nehekharan Empire. Why not take advantage of that ceaseless attack? Your tomb's outer shell has been specially made to absorb the rays of the sun and convert them into magical energy. A day's worth of the sun is enough to provide power for a few dozen combat spells, so it can store at a fair rate, and this rate will increase as the size of the tomb increases. You'll need something else to store this energy without limit, as the tomb can only store up to a week's worth of sunlight on its own.
[Reservoir]
Your tomb was constructed in such a way as to gather and store magical energy, allowing you to pour power in with no limit to what it could potentially store. A wizard, working over years and years, could save up for a truly frightening spell with this. If he had a way of gathering power beyond just his personal use, the tomb could become a near-endless wellspring of magical energy for him to utilise.
[Obelisks of Power]
Several of the effects that can be added to your tomb require you to be within the tomb to benefit from them. Not always the situation, and while this option will not get rid of that problem, it will serve to alleviate it greatly. Every purchase of this option adds a ring of stone obelisks in a circle around your tomb, each obelisk 5 kilometres away from the tomb. So long as you stay within the circle created by this ring of pillars, you will benefit from any effect that would require you to stay within the tomb, even ones you add or create yourself. Every additional purchase adds another ring of Obelisks, another 5 kilometres out from the first.
And my power has only grown further.
[Magically Charged]
This tomb was made with a wizard in mind, perhaps you yourself. Being present within the tomb will magnify the power of any within it. Whilst there is only one level to this option, given that the array of runes and formations can only increase your power so far on their own, it is enough to see a fivefold increase in your own power whilst within the boundaries of the tomb. The increased power will only affect the master of the tomb and those he allows to share in it; enemy wizards who have broken in will find themselves out of luck.
With my mastery of the magic of Nehekhara, even the mighty Lung fell to my curses (and the attacks of my undead slaves). The Butcher believes I refuse to kill her out of fear that she'd possess me.
She is wrong.
I refuse to kill her because this is a worse punishment for her. With each attempt, I take something else from her. Her Teeth have been broken and turned against her. Her gang is the one that set me on this path, and I want her to be there to watch my final victory, with her mind being her own.
Then, and only then, will I give her the mercy of death.
And yet, as the city is remade from a festering pit to a shining jewel worthy of Nehekhara, I am unsatisfied. My eyes turn to the bubble that they believe is holding me, and a scowl crosses my face. Do they truly believe that this will hold me?
The Tomb shakes with my annoyance, but I calm it. Once I break the barrier, they will attack with their full force to stop me. My [Ironclaw Cunning] warns me that their full might is stronger than I can currently handle. It infuriates me, but I will allow their arrogance to be their downfall. As long as they believe me imprisoned within this bubble, they will leave me to grow stronger until I no longer have to fear the full might of the PRT.
"Boss- I mean, your majesty," Squealer says, getting my attention from my pondering. I turn my gaze to the former merchant. Her foul-mouthed boss irritated me, which is why I made her watch as I fed him to my scarabs, but she proved useful enough to spare. I disliked the one called Mush as well; he was too pathetic to belong to my glorious empire. "It's finished, exactly as you requested."
She fidgets as I stare down at her, my gaze on her raggedy outfit. She is no Necrotect, dressed in tiny denim shorts and a dirty tank top that struggles to restrain her breasts. I briefly resist the urge to slay her for approaching me in such rags, rising from my throne.
"Show me."
Squealer nods rapidly, leading me to the space where she has been working. I gave her access to the [Auto-Factory] to help speed things up, and she's put it to great use.
"Gotta say, your highness, I kinda enjoyed this. Figured I was gonna get chained up with the rest of your trophies or killed and turned into one of your monsters," Squealer admits, laughing nervously at my stare.
"Remain useful to me, and you will remain alive. Your engineering prowess is impressive," I admit, watching as she leads me into the massive room where my commission is waiting.
"Useful, yeah, I can do that. No need to feed me to anything, boss-man," Squealer agrees rapidly, but my attention is drawn elsewhere, and she wisely remains silent as I examine her creation.
Towering over us, the first of my Warsphinxes stands proud. Despite Squealer's often ugly creations, the giant Khemrian Warsphinx is made to my exact demands, black and gold with my regal designs painted onto it.
– Taylor Hebert –
Her world had been turned upside down in such a small amount of time.
The bullying of Emma and her 'friends' had seemed so terrible until recently, but now she was wondering why she had ever cared about missing homework or juice being poured on her hair.
Her father was dead. She didn't know how it had happened, only that he'd been caught up in the chaos when the bubble had first been put in place. The Teeth had been rampaging, and he was one of the many casualties. Oddly enough, it was the apathy she felt toward the realisation that had pushed her over the edge, as she looked down at his corpse.
Winslow was gone. Someone had burnt it down. Probably a student, but it wasn't like there was an investigation given the lack of law enforcement. Sure, the police had tried to maintain order in the early days, but they quickly gave up. It just wasn't feasible; the closest they had to peacekeepers at the moment were the army of undead monsters patrolling the streets and killing anyone who disturbed Pharaoh's order.
We should be disturbing his order, you fucking coward.
Chaos reigned. As long as you were careful to avoid being caught by the undead, you could do anything to anyone without consequences. That was the current 'law' in Brockton Bay.
Some of the Empire fanboys from Winslow had tried to act on it, despite the Empire they loved having been wiped out and enslaved. They'd attacked Sophia at home, attempting to either rape or kill her. It hadn't worked because she'd killed four of them with her crossbows and knives. They'd thought they were going after a trackstar, instead they got a murderous vigilante.
Sophia's identity as Shadow Stalker had spread fast after they'd fled, and once again, Taylor felt numb. It made things make sense, why Sophia had seemed immune to consequences, why the school would cover up anything she did, but when the school and the PRT were both gone, she couldn't bring herself to rage.
Pathetic. We should hunt her down ourselves and skin her alive.
She, like most people, remained hidden in her house for most of the time. But even with her only needing supplies for one, her food ran out eventually, and she had no choice but to head to one of the food drops to try and get some more supplies. It was nearby, she thought she could make it there, grab enough to keep her going, and get home without any trouble.
And she was right, oddly enough. It was what followed that was the problem. See, food drops were chaos because it was one of the few times people would leave their houses. Everyone was fighting over the supplies, taking more than they needed, and while she'd been pushed, shoved and had to claw her way to the front, she had gotten enough of the simple food to last her another week or so if she rationed.
But she'd failed to understand the true danger. See, why risk getting into a fight for the food when you could just watch for whoever got some and follow them home. She'd gotten all the way home, feeling proud of herself for achieving this minor victory.
But people wouldn't risk robbing her on the streets, where the Pharaoh's monsters could be watching. No, they'd waited until she was inside and just broken in through the back door. She'd been asleep, awoken by the crashing downstairs, and foolishly she'd gone downstairs to investigate.
She was a skinny teenage girl. The large man raiding her fridge was bigger, stronger and armed with a crowbar and a knife. Maybe he'd have just left with his prize if she'd stayed put, and she could have risked another food raid, or gone to Kurt and Lacey to see if she could stay with them, something she probably should have done already.
She'd screamed for him to get out, and he'd hit her over the head with a crowbar.
Things were understandably blurry after that, but she remembered hearing arguing, though the words sounded so distant. He had a friend, an accomplice. She vaguely remembered one of them leaving, her old school bag full of stolen food. The other picked her up, manhandling her with ease as blood blurred the vision in her left eye from the wound on her head.
Despite everything, she'd been briefly relieved when she'd been thrown back onto her bed, naively thinking he was going to leave. That had lasted all of a few seconds before her flannel pyjama bottoms were yanked down to her knees along with her plain grey panties.
You could do anything to anyone as long as you didn't get caught by Pharaoh's forces.
The panic had sent her into full flight-or-fight mode, and she'd had nowhere to run. She gathered the strength to turn over and try to kick him away, despite her spinning head. She was still a skinny little girl faced with a much larger and stronger man. Her foot connected with his stomach, making him gasp, but he just grabbed her ankle before finishing pulling away her bottoms as she struggled, kicking and scratching.
Her top was torn open, the buttons popping off as her chest was exposed; she didn't wear a bra to bed. Her panic only made her fight harder, for what good it was worth. She even bit him, hard enough to draw blood, as he yelped and backhanded her. One large hand choked her as her vision darkened, the other forced her legs apart.
She remembered seeing him fumbling with his belt through her darkened vision, knowing she was going to pass out. The sound of a zipper, the way his foul stench stung her nose and the weight of his body as it pinned her under him as he tried to line himself up.
She didn't remember what happened next, only coming to her senses standing over a mutilated corpse.
Her room was… changed, the walls having shifted, the floor having risen up to grab him. This was her room, this was where she was in control. The bricks, the floorboards, the wiring, it had all come to life to rip her attacker limb from limb.
Only, he wasn't the only one, you fucking bitch.
Oh, stop whining, it wasn't like your body was doing us any good anyway.
Yeah, he wasn't the only one. Her entire street had come to life, and it turned out, a certain crippled bitch had been nearby at the time.
Fuck you, Fifteen. Well done, you managed to crush a blind, armless woman. Do you want a fucking medal?
Hey, give the girl credit. Not many can stack a kill count that high within the first minute of getting their powers. I kinda like her.
The cacophony of voices in her head jeered and mocked Quarrel as Taylor stared blankly at the wall.
She'd felt so alone this morning, now she had fourteen 'friends' to keep her company. As she looked to her window, seeing the twisted remnants of her street, she felt the bile grow in her throat, moving to the toilet to vomit (luckily, the toilet had also come to her room to beat her would-be rapist to death).
Aww, are you gonna cry?
Like I said, she's off to a great start. A couple hundred dead civvies on day one is a great start.
This is going to be fun.
Aww, she thinks she's a monster. That's cute.
You're right, you're terrible. You should kill yourself right now. Just go and find Pharaoh, and he'll take care of the rest.
– Rebecca Costa-Brown (Alexandria) –
Trapping Darius inside the new containment zone had had the expected result. Pharaoh was too powerful for most capes to survive being trapped in there with him, and normally, the loss of so many capes would anger her, but their experiment had proven that this was the right decision.
Any cape Darius murdered would be brought back afterwards, and these undead capes did not lose their powers. No, in most cases, they became even more dangerous as his undead didn't need to sleep or eat, they had no need for civilian lives and no fear of dying as they'd been observed taking undeniably fatal damage only to rise again with seemingly no long-lasting consequences. Lung had ripped Allfather in half during their attack on him, and his body had been pulled back together, flesh and bones being knitted back into place.
Now, Lung was an undead as well. Lung had gone blow for blow with Leviathan once, and now he was even stronger.
The fate of Brockton Bay displeased her, but when dealing with the fate of countless worlds, she couldn't shed tears over the lives lost. No, instead, she had to take advantage of the opportunity before her.
They had no delusions that the bubble could actually hold Pharaoh and his Black Pyramid. It wouldn't even stop Purity, and now she was amongst his numbers. No, the bubble was there to calm the people outside of the Bay. They were playing a dangerous game because Darius was only getting stronger (as they wanted), but there was every chance they'd lose control of him thanks to his rapid growth.
Contessa's paths had to be recalculated on a daily basis, especially after any major victory that Pharaoh claimed. He'd caused a considerable amount of triggers with the chaos he'd spread in that first week, before things had calmed down somewhat, and they'd smuggled certain ones with potentially useful powers out of the city, altering their memories.
She had her eyes on the newest Butcher, but they'd decided to leave the Butcher in the bubble. It was the same reason they'd left the increasingly unhinged Panacea inside it as well. The conflict would cause Pharaoh to grow stronger, and when he killed them, he'd bring them back anyway, so Cauldron wouldn't lose their powers. Contessa was certain that there was no real risk of Pharaoh becoming the Butcher and going insane.
…more insane than he already was.
The issue came with how they needed to point Darius at the true enemy. Contessa believed Darius was the secret weapon they had been looking for, but he couldn't be brought into Cauldron because his ego wouldn't allow him to be a part of an organisation that he did not rule, and she wasn't willing to put a literal lunatic in charge of the secret resistance against Scion.
Of course, there was also Eidolon and his growing anger at Darius' seemingly endlessly growing powers. Doctor Mother had suggested that Darius had Scion's version of Eidolon's own shard, but they didn't know for certain. Contessa didn't even think Darius had a shard.
She wasn't sure who to believe. Could their weapon against the enemy truly come from the enemy himself? It would make sense if their silver bullet was not a shard-based power at all. But if that truly was the case, if Darius had gained powers from something other than the entities, then what was it? To her, for as long as she could remember, the entities had been the end goal. Scion and Eden were the only sources of powers. That felt like a hard rule that could not be changed. If it wasn't true, then it meant there were other threats out there.
The point was that for now, Pharaoh remained an uncooperative asset to be worked around and weaponised when the time came. For all his anti-cape hatred, Pharaoh seemed to wish to rule, and he couldn't rule a world that Scion destroyed. It was in their best interests to let him grow.
However, she couldn't deny that Contessa's current plan made her hesitate just for a moment. Brockton Bay was cut off from the rest of the world, the bubble stopped people from seeing inside, and they were blocking outbound connections to stop anything from leaking, but if this got out?
Emptying the Birdcage into a containment zone was not something that could be swept under the rug.
What she knew for certain was that if they didn't stop his growth, they were going to have to give him Earth Bet. He was a weapon that they were actively loading, fully knowing it would shoot them given half the chance.
She was not stupid. The 'spell' that had left Glory Girl a cripple would be just as dangerous to her. She needed to breathe; if he used his ability to cause her lungs to be filled with burning sand, it would incapacitate her. And that was when he was just getting started, his power and control had clearly skyrocketed since.
The PRT was already under intensive scrutiny over the decision to seal Brockton Bay, locking so many people, including an entire Wards team, within the bubble with Pharaoh. If it got out that they were able to get people out but had left the Wards inside, or that they were willingly feeding troublesome villains into the bubble to feed Pharaoh's growth…
She paused, an idea striking her. She didn't disagree with Contessa's plan, in principle, but the issue was that the Birdcage was meant to be one-way, and even a single Birdcaged villain being seen outside was going to cause a scandal that could destroy the PRT. But there were plenty of other villains that could be just as easily pushed into the Brockton Bubble, using Pharaoh as a way to put the more troublesome ones under control.
So, where were the Slaughterhouse Nine currently located? They'd served a purpose, but that purpose could be replaced with Darius himself, the newest boogeyman with his endless hordes, once the bubble finally popped. A small part of her, that tiny voice that still thought she was a hero, pointed out she was hoping that Siberian or Pharaoh would die in the fighting, removing a threat or avenging Hero. The much louder, more realistic part was ready to grab a shovel and toss Hero's body into the bubble for Pharaoh. Hero was the best of them, the shining beacon of what a hero should be. He was one of her closest friends, and none of them had recovered from his death. The little voice mourned him. The louder voice said to desecrate his grave and let Pharaoh puppet around his corpse for a 0.01% chance increase in their chances against Scion.
She knew which one she'd listen to in the end. It was the one that always won.
– King Darius –
In truth, it happened while I was distracted. I was rearranging my trophy room, ensuring that everything remained up to the standards of a Great King. I don't normally pay too much attention to the individual patrolling forces, there's too many of them for me to micromanage them all and they'll alert me if they encounter a cape.
Because even if they get attacked, it doesn't matter, right? My forces will just recover after the battle is over, rising from the dead to serve me again.
That was my mindset, and as I feel my connection to an entire squad of my Tomb Guards, I realise that I was mistaken. They weren't just destroyed, their very bones were rotted in an instant, turning to nothing but useless dust. My mind runs over every single cape I can think of that could do such a thing, my many undead heroes and villains having shared their knowledge of the cape scene, but I come up empty. This doesn't feel like a new trigger, this is targeted.
Looking over the map I had made of the city, I look around the area where they died, scratching my chin in confusion. My confusion turns to rage as another squad just… dies. No attack, no flashy battle, they were fine one moment and seemingly dissolving the next. I had thought that the capes of this city had learnt not to challenge me, but it would seem I was mistaken.
Someone is going to die for this insult.
– Amy Dallon (Panacea) –
Deep beneath the earth in Coil's base, she smiled.
The test-run was complete and confirmed her theory, her virus running its course. It died out, the life-span miniscule by design, but it had done its job. Most of Pharaoh's forces were skeletal, with no flesh to speak of, so she'd needed something that could destroy bones.
Such as a calcium-eating bioweapon that was neutralised by flesh and saliva. It wouldn't hurt the living, but for the skeletal monsters it came across? Amy smirked darkly as she imagined Pharaoh's rage at losing his men. Tattletale claimed he was extremely prideful, and she could only imagine how furious he would be at this attack, with no-one to blame. She just hoped he was angry enough to do something stupid.
Holding hands with Vicky, she stroked her sister's face as she removed the latest signs of muscle atrophy, and once more resisted the urge to work on Vicky's brain. She wasn't sure she could fix it without wiping out Vicky herself, but as she used her other hand to make the next batch of her virus, she felt her power sing.
Soon. She'd bring Vicky back soon. She had to.
— Bonus Scene — Missy Biron (Vista)
She still felt numb, even a month later. The Rig was gone, sunk to the bottom of the bay along with all the heroes she'd looked up to. It felt like just yesterday that Assault was teasing her, that Armsmaster was demanding in-depth after-action reports over irrelevant patrols. That Miss Militia was comforting her after she saw a civilian get blendered by Hookwolf.
The Protectorate had been more of a family to her than her real family, and now they were gone. Well, not all of them. It was dumb luck that meant that none of the Wards had been on the Rig at the time, and the fast actions of one of the few surviving PRT members, Commander Calvert, that had gotten them to safety before Pharaoh's men could find them.
Missy let out a dry laugh, wondering if fate had a sense of humour. How long had she hoped that something would separate Dean and Glory Girl? Well, she'd got it because Vicky was a vegetable. How long had she wanted to be taken more seriously and be allowed a weapon? Again, she'd got it because PR meant absolutely fucking nothing anymore and Commander Calvert had given her a tinkertech baton to defend herself with.
She was their best chance at getting into the Black Pyramid, after all.