Victoria Dallon POV
The past few hours have been a slog for Vicky. Despite feeling like she just had the most relaxing bath of her life after waking up from a coma, everything else that followed absolutely sucked.
Don't get her wrong. She missed her family, terribly. Amy, especially. But, they would NOT give her space the whole damn day!
And she really needed space.
Or, at least, as much as she could have with Fragile never far away.
The PRT and Protectorate asking her a bunch of questions all the live long day only added to her stress. It took a direct demand from her mother, fueled by Vicky expressing her frustration, to finally make everything stop for the day.
Her questioning would resume another time, but that was fine. Vicky just needed the room to be less crowded right that instant.
The fact of the matter is that, while her body was unconscious, her mind was completely awake. Well, she says her mind, but she really wanted to say spirit or soul. Incredibly unscientific, but somehow, more fitting.
There really was no better way of actually putting it.
In the inexplicable place filled with what her mind identified as starlight, swirling nebulae, non-eucledian geometry, and shifting wormholes, Vicky had nothing but time to think. It was unbelievable how noisy everyday life can be, even when she's alone in her room.
Naturally, she absolutely lost her shit for what felt like the first few days. Time really wasn't much of a concept on that side.
Just as she felt like she was going insane, though, Fragile appeared. In the moment where despair had truly gripped her in its totality, desperately grasping for an escape from unshed tears and unvoiced screams, her power answered.
At least, what Vicky thinks is her power. Some part of her still wasn't completely sure.
Despite how others might perceive her, the Brute knew that this facsimile of her body was more than she appeared. Heck, when Vicky first met her, Fragile was about as expressive as a doorknob. She had to teach the entity how to act more human, more as a means of coping against the uncaring abyss than anything else.
It was a testament to her desperation and loneliness that she succeeded in an endeavor that, by all rights, should have taken years. But, that's the thing, isn't it? How would she know that they weren't on the other side for that long?
In the here and now, she'd only been in a coma for several days. Not that long, at all, in the grand scheme of things. Yet, it certainly didn't feel that way.
Vicky could still remember who she was.
The old her.
How she acted, how she talked, and who and what she loved. But as much as her affection for her family still lingered. As much as she still wanted to be a hero. Everything else felt so much… less?
All the little pet peeves that would set her off just seemed so, well, petty now. Just the thought of her overreactions over such minor upsets made her inwardly flinch.
Then there was Dean, the very subject that saddened her the most.
She had a lot of time to examine her undeniably unhealthy relationship with the boy she thought she loved. How she excused their tumultuous dynamic as somehow normal for teenage romance. The isolation forced her to confront the true reasons for why they were together, and it wasn't pretty.
In short, being with Dean was a means of validation for Vicky.
All the attention, drama, and anxiety that came with being a popular, public hero, combined with the fear that caused her Trigger, it all crystallized into an awful pile of shit. She wanted to have everything, and so she did.
The looks, the boyfriend, the power, and the money. She had it all. Without any regard for the price she was paying in the background.
Now, lying on the hospital bed with Amy as her only company at Vicky's own request, she reflected on details that either escaped her or she actively ignored before her forced slumber. With so many things vying for her attention, she couldn't devote the headspace to address all of them.
At least, that's what she told herself for so long.
This won't work anymore, though. Not if she wanted to keep what she truly valued.
"Amy?" Vicky prompted, looking at the ceiling.
"Yeah?" her sister responded in a raspy voice from hours of crying.
"Mom's been a real bitch to you, hasn't she?"
A shocked silence blew through the room, as Vicky expected. She didn't congratulate herself, though. That she waited so long to even confront this issue was a mark against her, without a shadow of a doubt.
"What?" Amy breathed and Vicky sighed a regretful sigh.
"I was a self-absorbed asshole," she explained with weariness, "but I still noticed something was weird between you two. I had a lot of time to think on the other side and realized that mom hasn't been treating you right."
And boy, did she. It took time, for sure. Made even longer because of her unusually long stint of drowning in denial. But when she finally confronted the truth, she couldn't look away.
"She's cold towards you, Amy. I never noticed because, again, self-absorbed asshole. Are you gonna tell me, I'm wrong?"
Her sister's silence stretched for so long that Vicky finally had to tear her eyes away from the ceiling tiles to make sure she was okay. She wasn't. Amy was hugging herself and sobbing in silence.
Not caring for the many sensors stuck on her body, she ripped them all off to wrap her arms around the mousy healer and cradle her close on the hospital bed. The wailing and beeping of machines went ignored. People sticking their heads through the door quickly ducked back out or risk medical implements thrown at them.
Even her family couldn't get through without Fragile looming menacingly over the frame and making shooing motions. The only thing that mattered was giving as much love, comfort, and reassurance to the girl she has long promised to protect and cherish.
Because that's what big sisters are supposed to do.
When the heaving sobs finally subsided to light whimpers, Vicky felt the tight knot in her chest loosen. Burying herself in self-recrimination right now won't help. She'd done enough of that on the other side. So, she kept holding Amy tightly until she herself let go.
"Vicky?" she eventually spoke up.
"Yeah, Amy?"
"Thank you."
"Anytime, sis."
They stayed like that for a few more minutes until Vicky was sure that Amy had regained her composure. What she said next could have waited, but after having thought about the matter for what felt like eternity while floating in empty space, she concluded that it would better to rip the band-aid off.
"Amy?"
"Yeah, Vicky?"
"Are you gay?"
Again, as Vicky expected, a new series of wailing and sobbing ensued. Several times, she had to wave down Fragile from interfering. The construct really wasn't all that good at following human cues.
Fortunately, she made up for it by being really good at controlling her powers. Amy didn't need to be further exposed to her aura. Vicky would make sure she never got a dose ever again, if she could help it.
Lisa POV
You don't really know the true value of a good night's sleep until you spend the most eventful 48 hours awake and absolutely swimming in adrenaline. Granted, the last few months weren't conducive to prolonged rest, either. What with being on the move after running away from home, then living off the streets, and ending with becoming Coil's unwilling stooge.
Even so, Lisa would never take her bed for granted ever again.
It had been a full 14 hours since her head fell on her pillow, conking out without delay. And while far from fully rested, she no longer felt like a zombie.
At the moment, she was sitting at the loft's kitchen counter, nursing a mug of coffee in her hand: black as motor oil, no cream or sugar, and potent as battery acid. Stands of blonde hair stuck out at odd angles, bleary eyes glared balefully at the linoleum surface, and tense nerves still shivered from being overstimulated for too long.
The late afternoon sun, casting orange beams across the walls and denoting the coming end of the day, only added to Lisa's self-impression of a cranky bat.
Sitting across from her was Brian, an impatient mien marring his sculpted features.
Despite no longer fearing headaches, she doesn't use her power. There wasn't a need to. The source of his agitation was written over every twitching vein. After one last sip, she set the empty mug down and gifted him her full attention
"All right, lay it on me." The invitation wasn't strictly necessary, but Lisa found that it was easier to start any conversation with the Undersiders' nominal leader this way.
Instead of responding right that moment, Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Not an encouraging sign. He's likely been stewing on his aggravation since coming back from Coil's base. When he finally opened them, Lisa didn't have to be a Thinker to see the intensity behind those black orbs.
"I need answers, Lisa," he said, his deep voice going even deeper than normal. "Don't give me the runaround. How fucked are we?"
The blonde could only smile at his prescience, despite having been stonewalled by her. It couldn't have been easy putting together an approximate picture of their crummy circumstances from so few clues.
"The truth? Extremely."
Brian blew a sharp breath through his nose at Lisa's confirmation of his worst fear.
"We're in much deeper and more tumultuous waters than we initially realized," she elaborated, looking at the mug and twirling a finger around its rim. "Honestly, I'm not sure how much to tell you and the others. Right now, only I'm really involved in any meaningful way. You just happened to be around to get splash damage. But if you really want to know?" She looked Brian in the eyes to press her point. "There won't be any backing out. Not for you. Not for anyone even remotely close to you."
Lisa had to make the reality of their situation crystal clear. Unlike her, Grue has yet to be entangled in a convoluted web of intrigue, secrets, conspiracies, and power struggles. There was still a chance for him to walk away. If he chose to stay, he had to be made aware of the potential consequences.
Brian took his time to answer. The frown on his face indicated that he had some appreciation of just how serious things were.
"You know why I'm in this, Tats." Of course. The custody issue.
"I'm sorry Bri, but you're not really getting what I'm saying here." The sigh that escaped Lisa was equal parts frustration and resignation. "What good will getting custody of Aisha be when you're dead?"
His eyes sharpened at the insinuation. "Who exactly is coming after us, Lisa? Coil's dead and Lung's out of commission. Is it the Empire? Someone from out of town?"
A suffering groan escaped the Thinker's throat, rubbing her tired eyes with the heels of her palms. "Dammit, Brian, I already said I can't tell you! Not, and still give you the chance to walk away. This is it! This is where you get off to live your hopefully long life. Where you wait a few more years and get a good job so you can finally take in your sister. Your share of the spoils from Coil's slushfund would be more than enough for that."
This was the conclusion that Lisa came to on her way back to the loft after separating from Taylor. Having the Undersiders on her side would have been useful. There's no doubt about that. But the world just got a whole lot bigger than one mid-sized city by the bay.
Everything Alfred revealed about Cauldron could get them killed several times over, and the only reason she was still breathing was Alfred himself. From his own words, he could go toe-to-toe with all three members of the Triumverate, plus the scary lady with the fedora.
And she saw no reason to doubt him. Why else would this secretive organization, that effectively controlled the world, take such pains to avoid direct contact? Even her power agreed that he likely could kick their collective asses, though, it couldn't give specifics as to how.
Would he extend this protection over Brian, Alec, and Rachel? Should he even have to? Any operations they undertake would be much easier with fewer people to keep track of.
Taylor didn't really count because, clearly, she was an Endbringer-class threat, herself.
Lisa did consider the power enhancement angle, similar to how she and Taylor got a boost, but Alfred shut her down hard when she made the suggestion. He made it clear that they wouldn't be messing around with powers until they better understood how it worked.
Then, he flew off to fulfill the bug controller's ridiculous demands. Just because she didn't want to give him a straight answer, the indecisive bit–
Nope! No, no, no. She was not going to think about that for a while.
"What about you?" Brian asked, and Lisa was genuinely touched by the concern in his voice.
Their team wasn't exactly close, being brought together as Coil's deniable assets. Still, they were the only people she could trust at her back for such a long time. Even if their relationship was mostly business, it still counted.
"I'll be fine, Bri," she tried to reassure him. "Things are complicated, but I'm not entirely helpless."
Frowning thoughtfully, he then asked a question that she really didn't want to answer.
"Are you gonna keep working with Seraph?"
"Yes," Lisa admitted. "I kinda don't really have much of a choice."
"Is he forcing you?" Brian's scowl was surprisingly fierce, likely an instinctive response due to being an older brother.
"No, he's not," she quickly denied. "It's got to do with the things I can't talk about. Seriously, Bri. He might just be my best shot at getting out of this alive."
"And you can't just walk away?"
Lisa warily shook her head. "Too late for that, I'm afraid."
To be fair, she couldn't entirely lay everything at Alfred's feet, much as he seemed willing to take all the blame.
When it's all said and done, his only real faults were a result of factors beyond his control. From what he shared about his powers – spherical crystals embedded in his chest that have minds of their own, could act beyond his control, and had a variety of abilities that boggled the mind – Alfred was basically no different from any other freshly-Triggered cape.
Looking at events objectively, the swarm was due to Taylor freaking out, Shadow Stalker's injuries were her own damn fault, the steamrolling of the heroes was caused by their own overreaction, and the kidnapping, as well as everything that came after, was a direct result of Cauldron's machinations.
It wasn't as if Alfred set off those unfortunate incidents out of malice. Yet, the idiotic boy seemed hellbent on owning them. Making matters worse is Taylor fucking Hebert encouraging it! As if she were completely innocent of any wrongdoing.
Oooh! Look at me! I'm just a delicate damsel, waiting for Prince Charming to come to my rescue. I didn't, at all, unleash a flood of monsters straight out of Lovecraft's demented brain! Lisa thought bitterly.
If she weren't so scared of setting off another city-wide disturbance, she would have blown up at the ungrateful little –
Stop it, Lisa! Focus.
"Can you just answer one question before I decide?" Brian requested out of nowhere.
Bottle-green eyes regarded the young man with careful consideration. She'd really rather not, if her suspicions were spot on. Activating her power for the first time since waking up, she – yep, there it is.
"No, the city won't be safe for much longer," she answered the unvoiced concern. "In fact, if you're walking away, I would suggest moving out of the Bay once you get your money."
Lisa knew what telling the truth would lead to, but she couldn't bring herself to lie. What would be the point? Besides, she really could use the help to keep two immensely powerful, but unbelievably self-sabotaging, capes from destroying the world.
"Then, I'm not going anywhere." Oh, Brian… you chivalrous fool.
"Are you sure about this?" Lisa had to ask one more time, if only to ease her conscience.
"My mind's made up," he declared sternly. "Now, tell me what's going on."
And so she did, only leaving out details about Alfred's true name, his power, Taylor's name, her power, and the stupendously brainless quest that–
You know what? Why not?
Lisa couldn't be the only person to conclude that Miss I-bring-all-the-bugs is a complete moron. So, she told Brian about that, too.
Honestly, what exactly does Alfred see in her?!
Dragon POV
"No ma'am, that's all I have on the matter."
"Thank you, Dragon. Keep me posted."
"Yes, ma'am.
The call ended and Dragon released a digital sigh. Dealing with the Chief Director of the PRT was always a challenge. The Tinker was basically asked to pass on copies of all of her findings, observations, and even speculations. All because they really, really, really, wanted to know as much as they could about Seraph.
Not that she could blame them.
Far too many things are happening around that boy, and he is definitely just a boy. Her cameras essentially confirmed what was previously just speculation. 18 years of age, at the oldest, too. His headgear did much to obscure his face, but Dragon's sensors were some of the most advanced in the world.
With that said, she did have mixed emotions over such a violation of the Unwritten Rules. Secret identities could be uncovered using so many ways, that it's often more a matter of discretion than a lack of means that preserves a cape's private life.
In this case, however, it's become a matter of national security and international interests. Had Seraph remained a big fish in a small pond, he wouldn't be getting as much scrutiny as he is now. However, the incident over the Atlantic Ocean effectively blew whatever anonymity he still had out of the water (pun, very much intended).
That's why she currently had several of her suits patrolling over the skies of Brockton Bay.
Suffice it to say, the city had become a hotbed for governmental scrutiny, both local and federal. Scrutiny that only intensified after Seraph woke Glory Girl from her coma, proving that he could heal, on top of the other abilities he'd already shown.
From what surveillance cameras were able to capture, he did this with a new form that had a silvery white color before switching to another, which made him harder to track.
His classification as a Trump had already drawn a lot of attention from organizations with Parahuman interests. After taking everything he has displayed together, seemingly without limitations, it seems that everyone now considers him on par with Eidolon.
And, with all things being fair, they wouldn't exactly be wrong.
Taking control of a suit gliding over the western edge of the city, Dragon considered the situation while also running sub-routines to keep an eye on her surroundings. Right now, the goal was to get in touch with the winged parahuman, in hopes of establishing a dialogue.
The PRT's unusually restrained response to his actions is, in large part, because they hoped to gain his cooperation. A hope that's ostensibly supported by his seeming adherence to avoidance, rather than violence, if given the choice.
His thrashing of the local Protectorate team and New Wave certainly proved that he could have set himself up as a warlord or gang leader if he wanted to. That he hasn't signaled a possibility of a more peaceful interaction.
Now, if only they could actually find him.
Bouncing from suit to suit, Dragon kept a vigilant eye on the ground and skies. From this high up, very few things could escape the Tinker's gaze, which is how she managed to catch a brief flash out in the distance.
Focusing on her sensors, Dragon zoomed in on an elevated road hugging the cliffside leading out of the city via the northern route, about a mile beyond the city limits. She took a few microseconds to understand what she was seeing before engaging her thrusters at maximum burn.
There was no way she was letting him get away, this time.
"Dragon to all channels, I have eyes on Seraph. I repeat, I have eyes on Seraph!"
Rattling off the location of her quarry, Dragon sent instructions to her other suits to converge on her destination. While she did that, the Tinker dedicated some processing power to analyzing the scene playing out in front of her, with the details becoming clearer as she got closer.
There were several figures scattered on the road. Projectiles were being hurled at Seraph before a miniature sun seemingly bloomed mid-air.
Dragon had just finished looking through her records of capes fitting the powers on display when the RV exploded. What came out gave her a sense of deja vu.
What is with this boy and monsters?! She couldn't help but scream in her mind.
"Dragon to all channels, we have a possible A-Class Parahuman threat. I repeat, a possible A-Class Parahuman threat."
Several confirmations and cries of alarm flooded the comms before a cold, authoritative voice cut through the noise.
"Dragon, Director Piggot. Report."
"Seraph is fighting what looks like a blob of flesh with shifting parts, possibly several tons in mass, and – oh, dear god – it just ate someone!"
Dragon is rarely ever caught by surprise outside of Endbringer fights, but seeing one of the capes fighting Seraph get gobbled up was a horrifying sight to see. And it was about to get worse.
"Director, you need to close down the highway." Even to the Digital Entity, her own voice sounded faint as she watched something else pop out of the creature's flesh. "The subject is capable of self-replication."
There was a sharp gasp, quickly followed by bellows of fury from the irate survivor of Elisburg.
"All channels, get to the location, now! Do not let whatever it is spread or enter the city!"
Dragon pushed her engines to move even faster. What started out as a quiet night has just become a race against time.
Assault POV
Never a dull night in this city.
Speeding through the streets of Brockton Bay are several dozen black SUVs, all of which were full of PRT agents and heroes, which included the Protectorate cape, Assault. The normally jovial man wore a grim expression under his helmet, with equally grim thoughts filling his head.
Only to be expected, considering what they were burning rubber to reach.
Another one. This time within walking distance of a populated area instead of in the middle of the ocean.
When did this place become the monster capital of America? Didn't they have enough to deal with?
Humor was typically Assault's main means of coping with stressful situations, but there has been a marked increase in those over the last month. Criminals, he could deal with. Villains, he could pummel all day long.
But when the things that go bump in the night suddenly start crawling out of the woodwork, the reformed jailbreaker can be forgiven for asking questions. Questions like "What the fuck?", "How the fuck?", and "Why the fuck?", in that order.
There has got to be a limit to how much crazy their team is forced to deal with. There's just gotta!
Watching the footage of those oversized creepy crawlies out at sea made him thankful that they got there too late to do much other than help collect samples. But now one of them is here, in their own backyard.
Was this city built on top of an Indian graveyard, or something? Their luck couldn't possibly be this bad.
"Assault, do you read?" Battery's voice interrupted his descent into panic.
"I read you. Whatcha need, puppy?"
"We're closing in on the AO," she said, flooding Assault's chest with ice. "Updated ROE puts us on perimeter duty. Apparently, only blasters can engage the main target. Otherwise, they risk getting assimilated and cloned."
What?
"Where are we getting this intel?" He listened to the briefing while on the move, just like everyone else. There was no mention of this.
"Seraph."
What?
"He can talk?"
Assault wasn't sure why he asked that question. It must've been the constantly changing situation that's making his head spin.
"Why wouldn't he – No, not the time. Look, he says we're basically dealing with a rampaging Case 53. Code-named Echidna. Striker/Changer/Mover/Brute and Master. Rapid regeneration, monstrous strength, exponentially increasing mass, and can create a twisted copy of anyone who comes into physical contact with her. Apparently, you don't even need to get swallowed, and the clone will have some twisted version of both your personality and powers."
"Christ!" Forget A-Class, this was a full-blown S-Class emergency!
"Exactly," Battery confirmed. "Dragon's already briefing everyone else. The two of us will be hunting down escaped copies, along with Velocity, while the heroes not engaging Echidna will create a net about half a mile wide. The area inside of that will be our hunting grounds."
Well, that sounds simple enough. There's got to be a catch, though.
"What about the clones? Anything we need to watch out for?"
"Confirming," came the reply, before the comms clicked off. After a minute, which Assault spent trying to calm his jittery nerves, it came on again. "Seraph says their threat levels are variable. The clones could either be completely harmless or incredibly dangerous, both for others and themselves, but every single one is insane. A teleporter's already been subsumed, along with a paraplegic with dream projection."
Okay, that didn't sound so bad.
"How many clones can she make?" Assault asked.
"Momentary contact will only produce one copy," Battery said, causing him to relax a bit, which was a mistake. "But, she can make as many as she wants of those inside her."
Dear god.
The blue-clad hero was almost too afraid to ask, but knew that there was no avoiding it.
"How many are there now?"
"Nearly a hundred," was the distressing response, "and counting."
"Shit."
Miss Militia POV
There comes a point in a hero's life when they need to make the hard choice of taking a life in order to safeguard others. This was not such a time.
In fact, the gun-toting Star Sprangled parahuman found that this was not at all like any time she had ever experienced. The closest she could compare it to was records of Spree, a member of the Teeth, who could produce multiple versions of himself.
Except Spree's copies didn't come with their own individual powers that varied to a staggering degree. The Blaster had literally lost track of how many she had already put down, and they hadn't even made it to Echidna's location yet.
Sounds of explosions echoed in the distance, a searing glow emanated from around the bend about 50 feet ahead, which was then followed by waves of heat that were quickly raising the ambient temperature of her surroundings. The night air was riddled with cracks from gunfire, many of which came from PRT agents who were ordered to go for lethal shots from the start.
Travel by motorcycle was made impossible due to the corpses clogging the road, forcing her to make the rest of the way on foot. A sudden bang rang through the air, before the sound of tearing metal preceded one of Dragon's suits spinning through the air, and crashing to the tree line below the cliff in a spectacular conflagration.
From her elevated vantage point, Miss Militia had a full view of the surrounding landscapes. The scattered patches of groves were teeming with law enforcement personnel and clones, both sides doing their absolute best to destroy the other.
Helicopters dot the night sky, some from various government agencies like the PRT, and others are media.
It felt like every other minute, new capes were popping up, and it was becoming difficult to ascertain whether they were heroes or villains. The adults from New Wave came in from the south side, but were quickly diverted to hunt down a large group of clones trying to skirt the perimeter.
And this is just the start.
National Guard troops were already on standby due to the Tiamat incident and the presence of Seraph in the city. Mobilization began the moment Dragon reported the S-Class threat, and they would arrive in an hour.
A barrage of lasers impacting multiple spots announced the arrival of Legend, which was then accompanied by a helical streak of light that detonated the target area. Purity has come, and the E88 is likely not far behind.
Brockton Bay's outskirts have well and truly become an active warzone.
Taylor POV
Things have been incredibly awkward at home since Taylor came back two days prior. Walking up to the house in borrowed clothes and looking like she'd been taken to the cleaners was the final stretch on a journey of dread.
Even knowing that she wasn't technically at fault for everything that happened, there was no convincing Taylor's heart to stop beating a mile a minute.
She was so preoccupied that she forgot about the rickety step, which promptly announced her arrival. Stomping then thudded inside the house, before the door was swung open with considerable force.
Frame by the entryway was Danny Hebert, disheveled as all hell and with wild eyes flitting about before they finally landed on her. When it finally registered that, yes, he really was looking at his daughter, the balding man moved to engulf her in a fierce hug.
"Taylor, oh thank God, Taylor," he cried. "I thought I lost you! I thought – Jesus, I didn't know what to think!"
"It's okay, Dad," she said in a quiet voice, returning his embrace with equal fervor. "I'm okay, I promise. Things just got a little out of hand."
"Out of hand?" Slowly releasing Taylor, Danny held his daughter far enough to look her in the eyes. "Kiddo, you've been gone for nearly three days! I'm gonna need more than that."
Sighing in defeat, Taylor wordlessly took his hand and pulled them both inside. Once seated on the sofa, she laid everything safe to divulge. Some of the things she learned would definitely put her father in danger.
This proved to be the wiser course of action, as the freak-out that followed would've been a lot worse if she had added details like global conspiracies into the mix. Naturally, Taylor was grounded, and Danny even called the school to inform them that she wouldn't be attending for a few days due to a family emergency.
She was so exhausted by that point that she didn't even argue.
It's been two days since then, and while Taylor understood her father's reaction, she couldn't help but feel resentful. Making matters worse is the state of her power.
After her first encounter with Seraph, the boost to her range went dormant. The same went for the enhancement of her minions. With practice, she was able to gain finer control over the insects under her thrall, allowing her to do things better than she did before.
Seeing and hearing through insects became second-nature, and she was even able to overcome a few weaknesses to some extent, like the rain, cold temperatures, and even bug repellents. Since waking up after her episode over the ocean, though, it was like her power was muted.
It's still there, as far as she can tell. She just can't use it.
Unfortunately, Taylor only realized this after sending Alfred off. Lisa was there to help her calm down, as well as put things into perspective, but it was still incredibly disconcerting.
True to the blonde Thinker's prediction, it has been getting better. She's already started feeling the bugs in her immediate surroundings. No control, still, but an encouraging sign.
Another point that completely skipped her mind was the wound she sustained from the bullet ricochet while trying to escape with Lisa. It had completely skipped her mind because of so much going on at the time, but even back when she woke up in her cell, there was no pain or feeling of blood loss.
When she brought it up with Lisa, the other girl went eerily quiet and still for a few seconds.
Then, after coming out of it, she got really evasive and insisted that Taylor should go home. She promised to get in touch once everything settled down. But since they parted, there's been no word.
She'd since spent her time looking things up on the clunky home computer. At Lisa's advice, she avoided all mentions of the Atlantic incident. That was fine. There were other topics to browse, such as Glory Girl's apparent miraculous recovery.
Good.
No word about Shadow Stalker getting the same treatment, though.
Even better.
This was the one aspect of Taylor's current powerless state to be thankful for. Otherwise, she would've sent a biblical plague to the hospital where that bitch was being kept.
She was already in enough hot water, as it is. There's no need to add attacking a Ward to her rap sheet. It was damn tempting, though. Especially consider her apparent influence over Seraph: a topic that she's done everything she could to avoid thinking about since they split.
Right now, she just needed to wait until she heard from either of her two new… acquaintances? Co-conspirators? Certainly not friends.
Taylor was in the middle of preparing dinner, a few hours after ending her net surfing session, when the landline rang. Wiping her hands on her apron, she picked up the receiver.
"Hebert Reside –" she started.
"Taylor!" Danny didn't even let her finish, voice loud and frantic. "I'm coming home. Do not leave the house, do you understand? Do not leave the house."
"Leave the – what's going on?"
"No time! I gotta go. Be home in a bit. Stay there!"
The other line went dead, leaving Taylor staring incredulously at the phone.
"What the fuck?"
Just then, her burner went off. Blowing out an air of exasperation, she flipped it open to see Lisa's name. Brow furrowed in consternation, she pressed answer.
"Lis –" Once again, she was interrupted.
"Taylor, please tell me you're home!" came the panicked greeting.
"Okay, what is going on? My dad just called me to ask the same thing."
"Haven't you – never mind. Don't go anywhere. We're coming over."
"What?!" she squeaked. "Lisa, no! My dad's on his way home. You can't be here when he does!"
"Then, you better freakin' give him a heads up before we get there!" she retorted with steel in her voice. "I'm not fucking around, Taylor. We'll keep you and your dad safe, especially given your current state."
It hurt to admit that she was right. While not completely helpless, the temporary absence of her power does make Taylor more vulnerable. On that note, she still hasn't gotten an answer.
"Can you at least tell me what everyone's freaking out about?"
Just then, a plume of fire rose into the sky, high enough to be visible from Taylor's living room window.
God damn it!
"What's he gotten himself into now?" she groaned, having a good idea as to the culprit behind that tower of fire.
"Funny you should mention that," Lisa's sharp reply caught Taylor off guard. "He's just following orders."
Oh, crap.
Victoria Dallon POV
Vicky has never felt more alive.
Though it was unfortunate that it took a literal S-Class emergency to get her out of the hospital, she was still grateful for the opportunity to escape the stifling confinement. She was even more grateful that she could finally take Fragile out on a test run.
And boy, did she deliver.
While she retained much of her original strength and durability, Vicky now had an expanded repertoire of tricks – namely, the ability to create extendable limbs that she can launch from practically any direction.
They acted less like arms and more like sharp spikes or spears. In addition, they can move independently since they also respond to Fragile's commands.
In short, Vicky now has near 360-degree coverage and can turn into motherfucking hedgehog!
Quite the upgrade, and just in time, too. The number of batshit crazy clones she's had to dispatch in the last few minutes absolutely boggled her mind. The Brute never could have imagined being involved in shredding living, thinking beings as a hero.
Yet, that's exactly what's happening.
Surprisingly, the culprit for this newest batch of insanity isn't Seraph. Well, he's involved, but someone else was causing the actual problem.
Apparently, the crazed Case-53 he's currently fighting could produce hundreds of clones, each of which would then possess an offshoot power of a devoured parahuman. Many of the copies that Vicky had to put down, so far, had some form of projection, teleportation, or physical enhancements.
So, it's safe to say that only a few capes have been eaten, as of this point.
That's why Brutes like her were told to stay away, as well. It would be too risky to get involved.
"Glory Girl!" someone called out.
Looking over, Vicky saw Armsmaster briskly walking toward her, a decapitated body lying on the ground behind the Tinker.
"Armsmaster," she greeted. "How're things going on your end?"
"Well enough," he said. "But we have updated orders. Apparently, some interlopers are taking advantage of the chaos to sow more discord. Members of the Ambassadors have been sighted in the city, and it would appear that they are involved in unleashing Echidna."
"Say, what?" Vicky gaped in astonishment.
But before Armsmaster could say anything else, a loud cackling was heard in the distance. A deafening explosion then came from the ridge where the rampaging monstrous parahuman was being corralled, immediately followed by a towering pillar of fire.
"Did Seraph finally lose his shit?" she blurted out.
"Unlikely," Armsmaster denied immediately. "He –"
"This is Dragon to all channels. Bakuda is on scene. I repeat, Bakuda is on scene. She's a Bomb Tinker, and she just launched some kind of vortex induction munition that created a high-velocity thermal updraft."
"Oh, for the love of –" Vicky groaned.
"All channels, this is Director Piggot. Bakuda is unstable and extremely egotistical. Exercise caution when dealing with her. Dragon, can you locate her?"
"Negative, director. Oni Lee delivered the payload. Seraph confirmed her presence, but we're too preoccupied with Echinda and – look out!"
Vicky's heart nearly froze at the panic in the Canadian Tinker's shout.
"Dragon! What happened?"
"Bakuda's attack provided enough of a distraction for one of the clones to snatch Purity!" Dragon reported. "Echidna has just assimilated Purity. All channels, I repeat. Echidna has assimilated Purity!"
Not hesitating for a moment, Vicky took to the skies at maximum speed. She might not be able to help with putting down the Case-53, but she could certainly hunt down clones of the nazi bitch.
She heard Armsmaster call out, but she didn't stop or slow down.
Having to fight multiple versions of the Blaster 8 is a nightmare scenario. One that can be alleviated with a sensible application of controlled carnage.
Who better to deliver that than her?
Alfred POV
I just can't freaking catch a break, can I?
Wake up Vicky Dallon from her coma? Got caught and was forced to escape, sharpish.
Track down The Travelers and bring them in quietly? Botched that almost right away.
Actually, talk to the heroes without causing a major incident? Well, I said stuff to Dragon, who then said it to others during an incident that I certainly did not start. Does that count?
I realize that, at this point, people are probably not gonna believe me when I say that this wasn't my fault. But, to be absolutely clear, this was not my fault. Noelle had already been losing her shit by the time I found the Ziz bombs. If that asshole, Trickster, had just kept calm, we wouldn't be in this mess.
He didn't, though. And now, we're here. Having to contend with a pissed-off proto-Endbringer who'd just gobbled up the strongest Blaster in Brockton Bay because the fucking Cornell Bomber just had to get involved!
So now, I am beyond livid.
Especially after I had to tank a shot from one of Purity's clones. Fortunately, it's ground-bound, so I only really needed to hit it with a lightning bolt, leaving charred meat on the highway. Using Violet for this fight made sense due to how accessible its magical attacks were. The only problem was the smell that had begun stinking up the air.
Way too many cooked bodies down there, now.
A few other clones of the Blaster tried harassing maneuvers or breaking through the perimeter, but Legend, Dragon, and Dauntless all pitched in to keep them corralled. My main focus was still on Echidna, who kept trying to skirt around and escape.
Last I heard, many of the other local fliers and ranged capes were doing the same thing, but I've long lost track of who was where doing what.
Going for another dive, I sent another bolt at Noelle, who was trying to run down Sundancer and Ballistic, knocking her back several meters. It almost felt like half the time I spent fighting was just to keep these two uneaten. Frustration was the main emotion of the day, mostly because the clones that kept popping up seemed to really want the free members of The Travelers to no longer be so.
Now, I could have just flash-fried the monstrous cape with a truly massive bolt of lightning from the start. But two things stopped me, and were still stopping me even now.
First, Taylor gave explicit instructions to avoid killing anyone. Second, going after these guys was intended to both remove threats set up by the Simurgh and to give the Protectorate and PRT a peace offering.
From everything I knew about the group, events shouldn't have devolved so quickly.
Noelle was still supposed to have kept her mind. Trickster was supposed to be desperate for a cure. All of them should've been.
Instead, I find them trying to escape Brockton Bay; the girl/fleshy monstrosity was already having a fit, and the rest of The Travelers were hellbent on getting away from me. Had this happened at any other point, I would've blamed Cauldron, but that didn't make sense.
Not after they, in their own fucked up way, actually put in the effort to avoid directly antagonizing me.
So, what the hell was going on?
Hovering over the duo of villains, I sent out a wave of highly-charged particles and made several approaching clones explode from the inside out. I then dropped down, grabbed both by the waste, and flew away at top speeds.
An enraged scream from behind nearly scrambled my sense of balance from sheer volume, but I powered through and kept going. At the same time, I screamed in Dragon's general direction, knowing her equipment would hear me.
"Dragon! I'm taking Sundancer and Ballistic to safety. Maybe they can tell us what the fuck's going on. Keep Echidna busy!"
In lieu of an answer, one of her suits flew by and launched several missiles toward the direction I'm heading away from.
Satisfied that I at least had a few minutes, I flew toward a cordon full of flashing lights, tents, and PRT personnel running around. My approach didn't go unnoticed, and a few had gathered near the center, which I took as my landing zone.
After touching down, one of them stepped forward.
"Seraph?" he asked gruffly and, in my opinion, unnecessarily. Who else would I be?
"That's me! Sorry, in a bit of a rush," I panted, while setting down my passengers. Once the two found their feet, I then grabbed their shoulders. "Look, I don't have a lot of time. If you want to see your friends again, you'll tell me why Noelle's acting out of control."
The same PRT officer who addressed me cleared his throat, catching my attention. "Thinker support raised the probability of interference from Accord." What the shit? "Ambassador sightings have been confirmed, and agents have been sent to intercept. We've been instructed to give you a comms unit," he concluded by offering a black earpiece.
I had to shake the confusion muddying my thoughts, because there was way too much to unpack there. After taking the earpiece and thanking the officer, I put it on.
Nothing happened.
Looking at the agent, he told me that I needed to tap it. So, I did.
"Seraph?" a voice came from the wireless earbud. It was a firm vibrato, no-nonsense, and sound absolutely done with the world.
"Director Piggot, I presume?"
"Yes. It's good that we're finally talking."
"Yeah, uh, likewise. But we'll have to save the pleasantries later. Your agent just told me that Accord's involved in this whole mess?"
"That's what our Thinkers have told. We still don't know why, exactly, but odds are good that the villain is after something in Brockton Bay."
Shit. I bet I knew what or who he was looking for. Unfortunately, I couldn't just blurt that out. Time was running out.
"Understood, ma'am. I'll cooperate with your people to wrap things up here quickly. To that end, I'll have to drop this call to speak with the surviving members of The Travelers."
Sundancers and Ballistic were off to the side, having a heated discussion in whispered hisses and wild gesticulations.
"Copy that. My agents will be listening in."
Well, I had no objections to that and let her know. Soon, I was walking toward the arguing pair.
"Right," I loudly declared, letting them know of my presence. "I have even less time now than before, so I'll make a few guesses, and you'll confirm whether I'm right or wrong. Feel free to fill in the gaps, though, make it quick. Got it?"
After getting nods, I started. "After losing contact with Coil, Trickster freaked out. Accord then got in touch with you somehow and made an offer. It's either to cure Noelle or get you out of the city, or both. In exchange, he had you follow a particular set of instructions to the letter. How am I doing, so far?"
"Partially right," Ballistic scoffed. "It wasn't so much an offer as an ultimatum. We did what he said, or we'll have Kill Orders written up."
He didn't elaborate on how a villain was supposed to make that happen, and I didn't need him to. The Travelers tended to make a mess wherever they went.
"And Noelle?" I pressed.
"They gave us something," Sundancer said in a voice so low that I had to lean forward just to catch her words. "Said it would help keep Noelle's urges suppressed until we got out of the city. Accord promised safe passage until we reached a Wet Tinker who could supposedly give her a new body."
The poor girl was shivering in sobs by the time she stopped talking, and Ballistic ended up giving an awkward half-hug as a result.
As for me? I was beyond enraged. Violet was absolutely clamoring for me to file a complaint directly to Accord, involving thunder and plasma. Red wasn't far behind, and even White-Silver and Blue were expressing extreme dissatisfaction.
Somewhere in the depths of my soul, an awareness stirred. Old, immense, and prideful.
I had to get a handle on my emotions right quick, or I'd blow up on some undeserving folks nearby. Nodding in confirmation, I looked at the pair and said, "Thank you for the information." I kept my voice as steady as I was able. "Stay here, for now, and tell the PRT everything you can. I'll do my best to save your friends."
So saying, I turned, preparing to fly off. But, before I could, I heard Sundancer call out to me.
"If – if you can't fix her," she said in a tremulous voice, "please – please end it. She's been suffering for so long." Falling on her knees, the girl fully let go and cried her heart out. Ballistic could only kneel beside her, offering what support he could. "Noelle doesn't deserve this. She's in so much pain. She never meant – she never meant to hurt anyone! Please, believe me!"
Looking at the sobbing teen, I couldn't help but think back to how the fans favored her with so much sympathy. She ended Noelle's rampage in the story, choosing to incinerate her friend, rather than let her continue causing death and suffering.
"I understand," was all I could say before taking to the air.
The echoes of heartbreak followed me as I coaxed as much speed out of Violet as I could. It was time to end this.
"Dragon, are you there?" I asked, tapping the earpiece.
"Seraph?" she answered.
"It's me. Listen, I just got some intel that Accord gave Noe – um – Echidna something. I bet that's why she went berserk. I'm going to try something, but if it doesn't work, we'll need to put her down. Permanently."
There was a pause on the line, then someone else's voice went through.
"Do what you have to do, Seraph."
Legend. The Cauldron member I had the most complex feelings about.
"Copy that."
I can deal with that sticky issue later. For now, I focused on my last hope of everyone coming out of this fine. Should this fail, I wasn't sure how I could keep going.
White-Silver, please, I mentally called out in desperation. Please tell me I can make a difference. That this world isn't completely hopeless. Help me be a beacon of light in the darkness!
At this point, I already knew that the Dragoon Spirits' abilities didn't work exactly as they did in the game. I got burned by my ignorance with Astral Drain. I was given hope when Rose took over and showed me how Darkness should really be used.
Now, it was time for me to prove, if only to myself, that I wasn't just in this world to make everything worse.
The transformation came as smoothly as it always does. Purple organic armor was replaced by elegant, golden filigree and silver plates, as smooth as ivory. By the time the lightshow was done, I hovered over the recovering form of Noelle.
My choice was Moon Light. The White-Silver Dragoon's starting magic spell, capable of providing 100% HP recovery for living allies, or 50% after reviving them. It also removes harmful status effects.
I wasn't sure just what it considered harmful. But, after conveying my thoughts to White-Silver, I'm hoping that it knows exactly what to target.
A bow appeared on my left hand, the same one that Shana and Miranda were shown to use in their artwork. It was an ornate piece of art, made of what looked like polished, silver-white metal or bone. Easily a third of my height in size.
Pulling back the string, an arrow of light materialized. Instead of pointing it at Noelle, however, I flew higher into the sky and faced upward.
There, right beside the first, a second moon appeared. One that I only ever saw in low-resolution graphics or in-game cutscenes. A celestial body that certainly should not exist in this world.
But I couldn't focus on that. The spell was reaching its crescendo, and I wasn't sure what would happen if I stopped now.
So, after drawing the bow to its fullest extent, I let go and watched the light arrow speed toward The Moon That Never Sets. It only took half a second, all things considered, but the effects were spectacular.
After hitting the surface, the pale disk glowed with impossible brightness. Then, a beam of light came crashing down. Not at me, the user, as it happened in the game. Instead, it bathed Noelle in intense luminosity, drawing a howling shriek of pain from the monstrous cape.
However, it wasn't just her who started screeching. All over the surrounding landscape, a discordant choir of wails arose, followed by pinpricks of brightness suddenly lighting up within a radius of several hundred meters.
I watched as one by one, the pinpricks were snuffed out in no particular order. Finally, only Noelle still stood. A singular player under the spotlight – all eyes were on her.
Eventually, the beam began to sputter and die down. When it fully faded, I watched as Noelle Meinhardt lay on a puddle of melted flesh, half-naked from the waist down. Had it ended there, I would've been overjoyed.
Here was a character I wasn't sure I could save, and yet, I did.
Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one to start wriggling around in a macabre soup of discarded meat. There were the recently devoured capes, of course. Trickster, Genesis, Purity, and, uh, there was a fourth. But, for the life of me, I couldn't place him.
Aside from the quartet, though, several dozen figures were also trying to get up. Screams began tearing through the silence left by the miraculous event, once more, and I could only stare at the scene in disbelief.
"Seraph, what did you do?!" Dragon's voice came on the comms.
I subconsciously tapped the earpiece, but then realized I didn't really know what to say. How the hell do you explain the revival of, from what I can count, over a hundred people?
"Uh, whoops?"
Eh, as good a response as any.
Alfred POV
Well, this is a right mess.
Things were moving at a rather annoying pace at the moment. Shortly after accidentally reviving upwards of a hundred people, Dragon told me that I needed to stick around. Not wanting to cause more trouble than I already had, I complied.
Of course, I also made sure to call Lisa to give her a heads up on what's going on, only for her to then inform me that she was already at Taylor's house. Apparently, Danny was freaking out, Taylor was fuming, and the rest of the Undersiders were extremely confused.
Not having the time to get into that can of worms, I shared what I could about the Ambassadors' presence in the Bay and Accord's possible motivations for getting involved. I could immediately tell that she wanted to ask more questions, but refrained from doing so once I told her that I would be meeting with the heroes and the PRT.
The last thing she told me was that they were moving the Heberts to a safer location, which seemed to be an uphill battle from what I heard in the background. All of this to say that I'm in a bit of a hurry, but everyone else seems intent on moving at a snail's pace!
Okay, that might be unfair of me.
I did just drop a huge problem in their laps. Who knew that processing so many formerly-dead-but-suddenly-alive people could take so long?
So, here I was, sitting on a reinforced steel chair at the very end of a portable table, inside a tent where PRT officials and heroes were gathered: both Protectorate and Independent.
No one approached me.
Though there were a lot of stares.
Most of them I recognized, with New Wave collectively glaring at me from across the tent. Understandable, considering how much I hurt them during our last encounter. Not to mention what I did to Glory Girl, unintended or not.
Strangely enough, Victoria didn't seem particularly angry, though the translucent figure of Fragile floating behind her was worth noting. As far as I knew, there were only a few ways that could have happened, even when discounting the potential side effects of White-Silver's healing.
A Second Trigger was the most likely.
Shit.
Other capes were present, as well, though I couldn't identify any of them by appearance alone. Was Sere or Dovetail among them? I wasn't sure.
Fortunately, the Protectorate heroes were a lot more professional. Unfortunately, this professionalism didn't really extend to the Wards that were here, for some reason. Aegis and Weld were easy enough to spot, but both kept shooting me surreptitious glances.
My face was hidden by White-Silver's headgear, which included a white headband studded with large, white crystals and a visor of the same color. So, there's no fear that I'll be exposed. However, it didn't make the gawking any less uncomfortable.
Finally, Legend entered, with whom I assumed was Emily Piggot following close behind. Her appearance is pretty distinctive, given how she was described in fanfics.
"Good evening, everyone," she greeted before taking her seat at the head of the table. "As some of you will already know, I'm Emily Piggot, Director of the Parahuman Response Team, East North East. We won't keep you for long. Our only goal here is to establish a clear timeline of events, as well as to clear up the various aspects of this incident that are still unclear. To that end, Seraph."
I was startled out of my sense of surreality at Emily Piggot speaking by being so abruptly addressed. For some reason, hearing this woman talk in person felt more fanciful than anything else I've experienced since coming to Bet.
Let's unpack that later.
"Can you lead us through the events that led to your confrontation with The Travelers?" she prompted.
Oh, this wasn't good. Public speaking! My one weakness!
It's fine. Just play it cool, Alfred.
"I gained intel on The Travelers' presence in the city, which included details on a particularly dangerous member," I explained in as straightforward a manner as I could get away with. "That was Echidna. Upon consulting with an associate, I eventually tracked them down and discovered that they were trying to skip town. I held off on confronting them until they were out of city limits to prevent collateral damage. Unfortunately, by the time I got there, the vehicle they were using had already on its side."
"If I may," Armsmaster suddenly cut in. "Can you tell us where you got your intelligence?"
That got me staring at the Tinker really hard. He wasn't even trying to be subtle, was he?
"Not my secret to share," I firmly rebuffed, hoping that would be the end of the matter.
"And not particularly pertinent to this matter," Legend added with a meaningful look at his colleague, much to my consternation.
Can these people be any more obvious? Did Cauldron send this guy to suck up to me or something?
"Please continue, Seraph," Piggot urged.
For a moment, I was tempted to contest the name they gave me, but decided that it didn't really matter and simply conceded to the request.
"I attempted to establish a dialogue, but the cape known as Trickster instantly became belligerent. From there, contact devolved until Ballistic and Sundancer attacked. Even then, I tried to talk them down, but that's when Echidna tore out of the vehicle and went on a rampage." Laying out the facts like I was doing helped settle a few things in my own mind. I couldn't have known that Noelle was already primed to go berserk, so I didn't feel the need to change my approach.
"Trickster attempted to calm her down, but got eaten for his efforts," I continued. "From my observations, Echidna was no longer conscious of her surroundings, nor could she recognize her own companions. At that point, I had to switch my priorities to protect the rest of The Travelers. The appearance of the clones vastly complicated this goal, and in the end, I was only able to secure two."
"These would be Ballistic and Sundancer, correct?" Piggot asked.
"Yes," I confirmed.
"What happened then?"
"At some point, Dragon arrived and began assisting me in taking out the clones. I shared what I knew about the threat, which she then shared with you. Unfortunately, by that point, there were so many of them that containment was impossible with just the two of us. Having to eliminate the copies, while also keeping two people safe, occupied most of our attention until backup arrived. The rest, Dragon should already know."
There! Clean and clinical. No unnecessary details added.
"Thank you, Seraph."
I nodded in response.
After that, others were asked to give their own accounts. Most weren't all that interesting, unless you count the systematic massacre of sapient clones. A few did catch my attention, including Glory Girl chasing after Bakuda.
It would seem that the mad bomber finally crawled out of her hole in an attempt to make a big splash. Well, she certainly succeeded. Her interference made things a hundred times more difficult with Purity getting gobbled up.
With that said, her opening move did answer the mystery of where she's been this whole time, and I did not like it. The egotistic brat had been building bombs based on my Dragoon Spirits' abilities.
The fire tornado was obvious enough, but she apparently threw lightning grenades at Glory Girl, too. Hell, she even tossed out bombs that created swarms of super hornets out of thin air! Like, how does that even work? Did they get teleported, or was it some fucked up version of a Poké Ball?
I already knew that Tinkers were bullshit, but come on!
Fragile's presence came in clutch here, since she absolutely shredded the attacking cloud of stingers. So, Vicky managed to survive, but Bakuda and Oni Lee got away.
Good news, though? They technically violated the truce that I wasn't even aware was in effect by using an attack when Dragon and I were in the AOE. It didn't matter that the Tinker was remotely piloting her suit and that I was able to protect Sundancer and Ballistic from the flames.
Everyone's gonna be gunning for the idiot, now.
A few more questions were tossed around, including my testimony regarding Accord's meddling; information that surprised more than a few people. But we eventually got to the elephant in the room.
"Now, about the seemingly miraculous healing of Echidna, and the revival of the 152 victims of her uncontrollable hunger." Piggot's delivery was so dry, it made Death Valley sound positively flooded. "According to what we've managed to get out of her, so far, the former monstrous cape, who has since identified herself as one Noelle Meinhardt, supposedly ate these people. And yet, we now have them filling an entire block of emergency triage tents with no recollections of their demise." Fixing me with an irritated look, she then asked, "Can you explain to us how you managed to do this?"
So, here's the thing. I don't really know for sure how I pulled that off. At most, I hoped that White-Silver could fix Noelle's abnormal status – that is to say, her deformation. But I never could have imagined that it would bring back people who should have long been digested.
That they were suggests a new level of fuckery.
My current theory is that they weren't actually dead while inside Noelle. At least, not in the traditional sense. They simply became a part of her greater whole. That's why she was always hungry.
So, when she was subjected to Moon Light's healing effects, not only did it remove her abnormal status, but it also attempted to revive her as a singular entity. Except, she wasn't just one being at all, was she? At that point, she became an amalgamation of more than a hundred.
Now, here's the problem: I didn't intend to revive anyone when I set out to capture The Travelers.
At most, I would have healed Noelle. Perhaps even Genesis, since, well, I was already there and it would be incredibly douchy of me if I didn't. But since I did show that I could absolutely bring people back from the dead, I had enough common sense to know that my life was about to get a lot more complicated.
This was made evident enough by the amount of interest the people in the tent were showing after Piggot's question. If I'm to dissuade the plans already forming in their heads to take advantage of me, I had to use desperate measures.
"I don't know," I bluntly confessed to a shocked reception.
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"Are you kidding me, right now?"
"He's lying!"
"Can you revive people or not?!"
Complaints, invectives, accusations, and demands were hurled at me from all directions. Which is fine, since I already expected them.
"That's enough!" Legend roared. "Get ahold of yourselves! We're not getting anywhere bombarding him like this."
Once quiet had been restored, the Protectorate's big boss then turned to me. "Can you please clarify what you mean?"
I was now at a crossroads. The rest of my stay here will be dictated by what I say next. A heavy decision, to be certain, but one that needed to be made.
"Look," I sighed with an appropriately regretful amount of remorse. "It's been made abundantly clear to me that I'm not the sharpest stick in the warehouse. Every decision I've made since that night with Lung has had, err, unfortunate results." I ducked my head and avoided looking at the heroes who were definitely glaring at me. "Talking about verifiable facts like how I encountered The Travelers is one thing. Speculating, however, isn't something I can do without risking potentially severe consequences."
"Then work with us!" Miss Militia exclaimed, causing everyone to stare at her in surprise. "You've been running around the city causing chaos. By working with us, we can avoid any further misunderstandings."
Despite Piggot, Armsmaster, and Legend regarding the heroine with consternation at such a brazen act, they didn't contradict her, either. Nor did I doubt the sincerity of her plea. With that said…
"If it were up to me, I would," I shook my head sadly.
This caused the heroes and PRT personnel to freeze on the spot, including Legend.
"Seraph," Piggot began, voice trembling slightly. "Are you being controlled by someone else?"
"I can't say any more," I replied. "But, if you really want my cooperation, then you'll have to…"
I pause just long enough to raise the tension.
"...get in touch with Tattletale of the Undersiders. Okay, that's it for me. Gottagobye!"
Not waiting for the energetic response my parting statement was bound to induce, I flew through the nearest flap and rocketed toward the sky. As fast as I left, though, I could still hear Carol Dallon's unpleasant shrieks of rage.
Once far enough in the air, I quickly switched to Darkness and really pushed my flight speed.
Eventually, I made it to the Docks area, where I then landed on the rooftop of an abandoned building. Shedding my Dragoon Form, I took out my phone to call Lisa.
It hardly rang before her voice came through.
"Pizza!"
"...Pineapple."
I may have forgotten to mention that the Thinker's paranoid ass started insisting on passwords whenever we talked on the phone. Said I'm so stupid, I'd exchange my burner for a pebble or something. I could only hope that she was exaggerating.
"Good," she breathed out in relief. "Is it done?"
"Yup! How 'bout you?"
"We're fine. Guests are a bit rowdy, though."
…
…
…
"This is ridiculous!" I complained. "No one's listening in on our calls!"
"You don't know that!" she shot back. "Or did you forget who gave me a housecall?"
"They don't need to tap our phones! If they wanted to know, they'd know!"
"Every bit of security helps, especially with your himbo ass always shitting the bed!"
"Shitting the – I'm not that bad!"
"Oh, yeah?" she challenged, sarcasm practically spilling through the burner's speaker. "Your meeting with the PRT went perfectly, did it?"
"Absolutely!" I said with pride. "Didn't give anything away that might get us in trouble. I even told them that if they wanted to work with me, then they should call Tattletale."
The pause that followed stretched for nearly a minute.
"Hey, uh, you still there?" I asked.
"Me?" she repeated faintly. "You told them to call me? Known small-time thief, villain, and suspected Thinker. That's who you told them to call?"
"I mean," I tried to explain weakly. "It's better this way, isn't it? Not like I could give them Tay – uh, you-know-who's number. And I'm clearly no good at this whole planning thing, so it had to be you."
An even longer pause followed. This time, I didn't bother to prod, since I could hear labored breathing on the other side.
"When I get my hands on you," she eventually said with a voice that sounded disturbingly blank, "I'm going to open your head, scoop out what passes for your brain, and put it in a pickle jar."
Okay, so I might have messed up.
Coulda happened to anyone!