7.14 Fairy Tale
9th of June, 2011
After a rather lengthy explanation – and multiple reassurances that no, I wasn't trying to trigger a containment breach in Eagleton just for shit and giggles – Super☆Becky eventually saw reason.
With some caveats.
More specifically – and, I assume, to stop me from regularly dropping headaches on her doorstep – she agreed to give me her full support as long as I properly liaise with the local PRT chapter first to pitch them the idea. Something I'm not fundamentally opposed to, but I still felt the need to remind her that I wasn't exactly in the local Director's good books right now.
She merely assured me that Director Piggot had her orders, and that she'll smooth out any sharp angles leftover if need be, before wishing me a good day and hanging up on me, again.
The whole situation has me a little annoyed. On one hand, it's a waste of everyone's time, since the Cauldron executive already knows.
On the other hand, I kinda get it. Going through the proper channels to contact her and make my pitch 'proves' that I can play ball with the local PRT chapter as my status as a recognized independent hero requires me to, which would help tone down some of my reputation as a – extremely dangerous – loose canon.
I don't really like it, but I can see her point. The entire world watches me like a hawk since Leviathan, and a display of active cooperation, no matter how minute it is, will help a long way to clamp down on any slowly boiling over concerns. I mean, it doesn't take a genius to realize that the Department of Defense must be sweating bullets about what could happen if I ever went rogue. Reassuring the masses, if only locally, about my good intentions, actually makes sense here.
Still, I did manage to find one upside to all this.
"Eh eh!" I giggle to myself as Missy and I hop along rooftops on a beeline for the PRT Downtown HQ after school.
"Stop laughing like that, it's creepy," my friend scowls my way between uses of her power, turning what would've been a thrilling parkour run into a leisurely stroll.
"I can't help it! I'm going to your workplace with you! It's like being escorted to the local precinct by your cop buddy because you're an important witness!" I happily chirp back.
The look she gives me as she warps another chunk of space into irrelevance – to mouth-watering effects, but I promised to play nice – tells me everything she thinks about this.
"You're going to embarrass me in front of everyone, I just know it," she accuses.
"Me?" I faux-gasp, hand over my heart, "Perish the thought!"
"Oh yeah? Remind me again what happened with Dragon and the Triumvirate the last time?" she bites back.
"It was a very tense situation," I answer solemnly with a sage-like nod, "You clearly needed to loosen up before the fight."
Missy's eyebrow twitches.
"I officially meet Alexandria for the first time, and the very first thing she sees is two children squabbling with one another and the world's most beloved Tinker trying to break it up," she grinds out.
"Meh," I wave dismissively, "At least it reminds everyone that you're still human, casually awesome space-bending powers aside. Tell you what, I bet that with some perspective, she found it funny."
Her only answer to my attempted reassurance is a scowl and a pair of reddened cheeks, before looking away in a huff.
I wonder how she'll react if she knew that the woman in question is one of the lynchpins behind a multiversal conspiracy?
We reach the PRT Downtown HQ less than a handful of minutes later, the last part of our short-lived journey spent in a somewhat tense, but not completely uncomfortable silence. Like two friends who just had an argument and know perfectly well that the other one has something of a point, but don't want to admit it out loud.
The moment we hit street level, Missy and I trade a look, before grinning at each other. Between one step and the next as we make our ways toward the entrance, my friend reaches for her watch while I give Dell the mental go-ahead.
An eye-blink – and green-tinged light show for Missy – later, the both of us stand in our respective suits, to the appreciative 'oohs' and 'aahs' of the semi-permanent peanut gallery crowding the building's vicinity.
My friend's visor turns my way, her lips pursed together.
"No more green light for you?" she asks.
"I was starting to think I was stealing your shtick," I joke while gesturing her way, before answering more seriously, "I told you, I upgraded the SNOW OWL. I found a less bothersome way to store objects in a pocket dimension in passing, so I'll be using it from now on."
Which is admittedly putting it rather mildly. Since Dell's new Adamantine nanites are laced with powdered Lacrima, it gives the Ascended Machine-Spirit a very minor affinity for magic as is, which happens to be just enough for him to use Requip magic in my stead. And since my proximity casually recharges his swarm at all times, it's extremely easy to keep him topped off on Ethernano.
Honestly, this is more of a lucky find than anything else, since I fully intended to keep relying on my AC-derived hammerspace tech, but Dell took to Requip and Super Archive magic like a fish to water – better than I did in any case, though since both magics are extremely math heavy, I'm honestly not that surprised.
I'll see about making him a dedicated Lacrima core once the golden moron has been dealt with so that he doesn't have to rely on me to run at peak efficiency.
Missy makes a show of stopping in front of the two troopers flanking the entrance after giving my explanation a nod of understanding, and I come to a halt next to her.
"Vista," the rightmost trooper calls, and I can almost hear a genuine smile in his voice, "You brought a friend along today, I take it?"
"The simultaneous entrance certainly made a show," his counterpart comments somewhat gruffly, "The crowd is eating it all up. Keep at it, kid, and you'll have Image in the palm of your hand in no time."
"Ar ar," my friend drily fake-laughs at him, before looking at the first speaker while gesturing my way, "Nictimène is here to discuss a proposal with the PRT. Can you call it in, Trooper Anderson?"
I have to make a conscious effort to keep my own smile placid and even, because I totally want to call her out about how super serious she sounds right now.
"Will do," the now-named Anderson gives a clipped nod, "Come on in you two, before the sharks decide to pounce."
I can't help but raise a bemused eyebrow behind my helmet at the relaxed attitude on display while Missy thanks him, something I echo a beat later while walking in lockstep with her.
Something must have betrayed me because my friend is prompt to explain the situation.
"The entire PRT chapter, top to bottom, is in a good mood these days," she says quietly, only pausing to nod back at the receptionist when the unremarkable brunette indicates the number three with her free hand, "Between the efforts of the BBPD, the Protectorate, the PRT, and the IRS, we're nearly done for good with the Empire. It means a lot to, well, a lot of people here, to finally see them going the way of the dodo."
Considering they work in law enforcement, and that the white supremacists have had a stranglehold on the entire city for way too fucking long–
"They all know someone the Nazis hurt," I say aloud while letting my eyes roam over the base's personnel, quickly confirming that they are indeed in a good mood.
"Or worse," Missy says quietly, her tone a little grim as we make our way deeper inside the building, "Let's just say that not a lot of people in the building were genuinely angry when the Blue Devil happened to Victor and Crusader, or–" she gives me a look through her visor, "–when Nightflyer put their four most homicidal capes six feet under."
"It's a time-honored American tradition to kill Nazis, I've been led to believe," I reply with a perfectly straight face.
"What do you know about the American way?" she shoots back in faux-confusion, "You're French, all you're supposed to know about war is how to wave a white flag."
For the span of an instant, I'm torn between cursing her out and just staring.
Then I laugh, and she follows soon after.
"We're here," Missy says a few moments later, her hand gesturing at a nearby door, "Conference room number three. Now, you obviously don't need me to hold your hand–"
"Even if I ask nicely?" I bat my eye behind my helmet, something that goes entirely unnoticed for obvious reasons.
"–so I'll leave you to it for the time being," she carries on unperturbed, "Someone will be here shortly."
"Alright," I throw a smile her way, "Thanks, Missy."
"It's Vista in costume," I can hear the frown in her voice as she starts walking away, before stopping on her feet.
A pause.
"...If you want to swing by the Ward common room once you're done, you can," she says while giving me a look over her shoulder, "I'm on Console duty this afternoon. It can get a little boring at times."
I blink behind my mask, then beam her way.
"Will do!" I chirp, before entering the conference room, "See you later, Vista!"
I barely catch her mumbling something about 'already regretting this' as she starts walking away, and only refrain myself from openly smirking because I just know it'll be caught on camera otherwise.
***
The door of the conference room opens barely five minutes later, and I promptly dismiss my current simulation while straightening in my chair.
I'm honestly not overly surprised that Armsmaster opens the march, since it makes perfect sense for a Tinker to be present when another Tinker reaches out. His countenance remains as stiff as the last time we saw each other for the farce of a power testing I willingly went along with regarding the M-Polymorphine – Leviathan doesn't really count since we didn't exactly get the time to trade words then. He's quick to step aside to flank the door, and I just know his eyes are roaming all over the room just in case I'm trying to pull something.
I probably should feel insulted by the paranoia on display, but the next individual to enter the room shines all the needed lights about why he is acting like this.
It's officially my first time meeting with the Director of the PRT ENE, and I find myself quietly amazed that she looks a lot better than I'd ever thought. Because this is going to bother me to no end otherwise, I can't help the extremely quick scan I aim her way.
I almost fall out of my chair in sheer disbelief; while still dangerously close to the morbidly obese threshold, the stern-faced blonde currently busy pulling a chair for herself in front of me is the very picture of perfect health. Almost too perfect, in fact.
She used the Panacea, I realize a little numbly, now that's something that I didn't see coming.
The last person to close the march after trading a few discreet words with Armsmaster finally turns my way, sends an entirely too punchable smirk in my direction, and proceeds to saunter her way to a chair flanking the Director's right side.
Great, I mentally grumble, between one notable hardass who doesn't like me very much, and two lie detectors with Hallbeard and Definitely-not-Tattletale, this is going to be a hassle and a half.
I obviously let none of my annoyance show – even though I find myself peeved of having elected to go for the half-mask version of my helmet for this meeting, since it leaves the bottom of my face exposed and will inevitably give a certain annoying blonde way more ammunition that I intend to – and pleasantly smile the trio's way as Armsmaster takes a place at the duo's back.
"Director, Armsmaster, Insight," I politely greet, "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."
The portly blonde doesn't answer, apparently perfectly happy to keep staring me down with a look that could – and probably did at least once – curl milk, and neither does the famous Tinker looming stoically behind her.
"Aww, no need to butter us up," the social Thinker, on the other hand, does, "We're only too happy to move mountains for such an esteemed guest as yourself."
Welp, if I still needed a confirmation that she's still pissed at me for making her look like a fool, here's one.
Wordlessly, I let my cognition kick into overdrive.
Alright, I let my eyes roam behind my helmet, what's the angle here?
A quick look with my Eye rapidly confirms what I expected.
Ms. Piggot really doesn't like me on a personal level and wants me to be perfectly aware of that fact. On the other hand, she's been told to play ball with the preteen-shaped WMD by her boss, and mentally acknowledges that I've probably done more good by successfully taking down one of the murder-kaijus than cumulated harm during my bouts of 'material acquisition'. She'd love nothing more than to prosecute me and send me to juvie, but that's now firmly out of her hands, and will tolerate my continued presence in her city as long as I manage to take down the other two.
Definitely-not-Tattletale's own annoyance is overplayed. She's still bitter over the fact that she got outsmarted by a freshly triggered cape, but knows that pissing me off isn't exactly conducive to one's good health; she's trying to antagonize me to get a better baseline for her power to work, since our last verbal spar got cut a little too short for her taste.
As for Armsy, he's only here because he got asked to, is a little curious about why I'm here, and wants to talk shop about the latest prosthetic idea he had with me since I'm a better soundboard for this than Kid Win.
I can work with this, I mentally crack my fingers while letting time resume its natural flow.
"As a matter of fact, Insight," I answer easily, letting the backhanded insult wash off me like water off a duck's back, "You'll find that this is very much a case of what I can do for you here."
"Oh?" she faux-wonders, though the slight tightening of her eyes gives her interest away.
"Indeed," I keep to the affably polite act as I nod, "You see, I made a few recent breakthroughs regarding my anti-Endbringers–" and anti-Scion, "–weaponry. The preliminary tests I concluded are very promising, but I'd like the opportunity to gather some combat data prior to the next attack."
"What's wrong with your previous suit?" she asks, punctuating her query with a head-tilt, and I find myself utterly unsurprised that she caught on to that, "Seemed to have worked well enough against big, mean, wet, and scary."
"It did," I nod in agreement, a smile on my face, "But if it is at all possible, I'd prefer not to have to turn myself into a battering ram the next time. The adrenaline rush really isn't worth the risks."
She blinks, then lean back deeper inside her chair with her arms crossed over her chest with a considering hum.
Next to her, the Director is still drilling a hole inside my skull with her eyes, remaining almost eerily still.
"So you made a long range version of the weapon that took down Leviathan," the Thinker comments to the benefit of the room, "And want to test it on a target that behaves in roughly the same way to see if it works. You're not asking us if you can treat the Simurgh as a clay pigeon, are you?"
I snort a little at that, before shaking my head in the negative.
"I'd rather let that particular sleeping tiger lie for the time being," I glibly answer, "No, you see, what makes an Endbringer extremely difficult to put down–"
"Is how their flesh is a bit like an onion, with each layer being twice as dense as the previous one until you reach the core, we're aware," she smiles politely my way.
"Indeed," I smile back, making a big show of not being bothered by the interruption, and her features tighten very minutely in annoyance, "But there's a way to bypass that; dimensional shearing. One shot, over a multitude of dimensional vectors, aimed straight at the core."
"Still not hearing what you want from us here, Nictimène," the Thinker muses.
"My new suit should be able to imbue this dimensional shearing effect in each shot," I carry on with my explanation, "But, like I said, I'd like to gather combat data during a live-fire test before I find myself forced to use it during the next attack. I got a little stumped about what would justify the use of a weapon able to simultaneously hit through multiple dimensions at the same time, until I recalled a particular fact about one of USA's issues."
I smile, and spread my arms.
"I'd like to be allowed to take a shot at the Machine Army and see if I can't solve the Eagleton situation once and for all." I conclude.
Armsmaster straightens in interest, Insight's jaw drops a little, and the Director opens her mouth for the first time since the meeting began.
"Absolutely not." She clips, her features set in a powerful frown.
Inwardly, I find myself smiling, because I know how all of this is going to end already.
And maybe I'm going to enjoy it just a little.