Chapter 33
Armsmaster
The debrief in the PRT HQ conference room was scheduled for 10 AM sharp.
Colin had expected it to take place earlier, but the arrest coincided with Director's dialysis treatment, and the processing of the prisoners dragged on for hours. In the end, she decided it was more practical to hold the debrief at the start of the workday with the whole team present.
That arrangement suited Colin just fine. It gave him and Argent extra time to coordinate their stories.
Everyone was already gathered at the table, quietly reviewing reports, when Director entered carrying a stack of folders.
"Armsmaster," she said without preamble, "when I told you I wanted the report ready by morning, I didn't mean the Wards had to write theirs too. It could have waited."
"They preferred to finish while it was fresh," he replied. "It was almost morning, so sleeping was pointless."
The statement was true but also convenient. It had also given them a window to ensure every version of events agreed word for word. Fortunately, with the debrief already on the calendar, there'd been no reason for Colin to return to PHQ, and his remaining with the Wards hadn't drawn attention.
"Well, they've earned their day off, at least."
Day off? The thought caught him short.
Director lowered herself into the chair and snapped open the top folder. "Call them in. This concerns them too, so they might as well sit in on the debrief."
Outside of crisis situations, when coordination took precedence, inviting the Wards to these sessions served as both incentive and training. Listening to the Protectorate's internal reviews was supposed to encourage discipline and model professionalism for when their graduation came due. Realistically, it was more of a carrot: a little professional recognition, a chance to feel like peers instead of children.
The problem with inviting Argent and Armiger, however...
"They are at school."
Every head turned his way.
Assault's eyebrows shot up. "Really? They didn't cash in the late-night brawl with Lung for a few days off? If it were me, I'd milk that for at least a week."
Argent had floated the idea herself, suggesting her brother sleep in, but the boy just grumbled about being fine and needing to bring Vista her lunch before going straight to the kitchen while Colin and Argent finished the paperwork.
It was just a guess, but Colin thought that missed training bothered the boy more than going to school after a sleepless night. That mindset was intimately familiar; in this line of work fatigue was inevitable, but energy was much easier to recoup than missed training time. Still, Colin could relate.
The incident with the kitchen knife, however, had been much less relatable. One moment, Colin's custom nutritional mix had been ready for consumption; the next, the container had a knife lodged through it, spilling its contents all over the floor.
The subsequent breakfast had been satisfying. As was the spectacular scolding Armiger got from his sister about the importance of respect and the somewhat graphic metaphors of field execution.
Colin still managed to save half the mix before the boy came back with a mop.
"Armiger wasn't part of the fight and wasn't tired," he explained. "And Argent didn't want to break her perfect attendance record."
Assault clearly had something more to say, but Director interrupted him. "If they don't need a day off, then that's that," she said crisply. "I'll be sure to mention it to Calvert the next time he tries to call in 'sick'."
She shook her head in disgust.
"In any case," Director began, finally opening the meeting, "I'd like to begin by congratulating everyone. We've scored a major win against the gangs. Taking Lung into custody is as good as breaking the ABB's spine. Capturing the Undersiders is just icing on the cake." Her eyes swept across the table. "I expect each of you to do everything in your power to ensure that the fiasco with the Empire capes does not repeat itself."
Colin barely forced down a scoff.
He brought Lung and the Undersiders back. It was his victory.
Assault wasn't impressed. "Not to spoil your party, but the ABB's not exactly finished. They've got a new recruit, right? Taking Lung off the board is great, sure, but that just drops them from three back to two. Doesn't sound like a dead gang to me."
"Bakuda is a recent trigger," Director said crisply. "She is dangerous, yes, but she lacks Lung's experience, reputation, and—most importantly—his authority within the gang. The profile lists her as an unstable egomaniac. If the ABB doesn't fracture between her and Oni Lee, they'll be too busy fending off the Empire to bother us. We play this right, and both gangs will eat each other in a few months."
Colin considered Director's analysis. She wasn't wrong. There were practical reasons behind her confidence.
Bakuda was a new Tinker, barely out of the fledgling stage. Judging by the reports, the woman had already identified her specialization, but the timeline of her arrival to Brockton Bay didn't allow for a meaningfully established infrastructure. Even with ABB resources, meaningful development and production takes more time.
That meant the most she had available now were the same types of explosives the PRT had salvaged from Cornell University. They were powerful but essentially mundane in design.
Colin had reviewed her work extensively. Much of Bakuda's success at Cornell came from deception: her bombs didn't look like bombs. Beyond that, her devices were typical of early-stage Tinker output. Haphazard construction, inconsistent methodology, no coherent design philosophy.
Even Kid Win's early prototypes had been better. Between the two, Bakuda only came ahead because explosives were inherently dangerous, no matter how crude. Perhaps the gap would widen if she didn't stall at the starting line like the Ward, but for now, she was just another volatile amateur with delusions of grandeur.
"And then what?" Assault pressed, leaning forward. "Take down the ABB, and the Asians in the Docks are sitting ducks for Kaiser. It'll be a massacre. We'll have to move in to keep the Empire off them, and that means cutting our coverage somewhere else. We don't have the manpower for both."
Velocity nodded. "The plan to keep pressure on the Empire is still in place, right? I'm with Ethan—we can't split forces indefinitely."
After the riots, Director had called for a pause to deep incursions into Empire territory, giving the city time to settle.
The department's reputation had taken a beating. It might've been different if they'd successfully transported the prisoners out of the city, but as it stood, Krieg's capture—and the theater that followed—was all that kept back the public backlash.
Even that could've gone sideways when the footage leaked.
"Unless you're about to propose a different course of action," Director said curtly, "We'll handle that mess when it comes. In the meantime, our strategy toward the Empire remains the same. Once Lung is out of Brockton Bay, we'll carefully resume pressure. We can't afford another citywide crisis."
The plan was as ruthless as it was sound. With Lung gone, Kaiser faced a choice: leave the Docks alone to protect his own holdings, or divide the Empire's strength chasing the remnants of the ABB. The former didn't make the PRT's situation worse, while the latter increased chances of the Empire losing capes. Of course, it didn't make much sense for Kaiser to pick a fight on two fronts, but less probable things happened. It all came down to the man's strategic acumen and how much control he had over the ideologically charged gang.
There were other implications as well: without competition, the Empire dominate Brockton Bay's criminal scene. The real danger wasn't immediate—it was what came next: new capes, fresh recruits, and the resources to dig in defensively against the PRT without fear of being blindsided.
All in all, it was better to let the ABB remain a thorn in Kaiser's side.
The only alternative was someone new filling the void, and that was a problem Colin hoped to leave to his successor. With luck, his promotion would come through long before the next gang war.
"Moving on," Director said, slapping a folder down hard enough to echo off the tabletop. "I've reviewed your reports. There are... inconsistencies that need explanation."
Colin's muscles went tight beneath his armor. There shouldn't be inconsistencies. He and Argent had rehearsed every word, matched every timestamp, cross-checked every phrasing.
Director flipped a page. Her tone was neutral—dangerously so.
"It says here you encountered Lung and the Undersiders because Armiger built a handheld supercomputer for his sister," she practically hissed the word. "And the three of you decided to celebrate this tinkering achievement with takeout."
She stopped reading and looked up, pinning him with a long, level stare.
"Yes," Colin confirmed.
Director's stare could have etched glass, but the rest of the room reacted with varying degrees of amusement.
Assault leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Colin going for takeout! Never thought I'd see the day. Shit like this makes me want some tykes of our own." He shot a teasing look at his wife. "What do you think, puppy?"
"Not with that kind of language, we don't," Battery rebuked, though without much heat.
Dauntless nodded thoughtfully. "Celebrating milestones is important," he softly added his two cents.
A ripple of easy approval went around the table—smiles, nods, that brief surge of team warmth he could never quite relate to. Hannah looked especially pleased.
Colin frowned. Was the idea of him going out with two colleagues really that amusing? Assault's joke wasn't undeserved, but the reaction felt disproportionate.
His reluctance toward workplace socialization was deliberate. He'd tried being sociable once—long ago—before concluding that 'networking' was inefficient in a high-mortality profession. In the Protectorate, survival and competence advanced careers better than small talk ever would. The hangovers certainly hadn't helped. Nor had the other alcohol-related consequences that had caught up to him more recently.
Argent and Armiger wouldn't even be here if he hadn't gone out that one time.
And yet the table buzzed with amusement, far longer than it should have. Only Director remained still, her cold, unblinking eyes stared right at Colin from across the table.
"I see," she said with a voice dry enough to ignite the paper in her hands. "So, on your way to—" she peered at the text, squinting, "—Ichirou's," she looked up again, expression flat. "Am I to understand you were heading to a restaurant in ABB territory? In costumes?"
It was a reasonable question. In Brockton Bay, Asian restaurant was practically a shorthand for an ABB turf.
But Colin had the answer prepared well in advance.
"A food stall," he replied without missing a beat. "Armiger likes oriental."
Argent had been the one to come up with their excuse for being in the Docks, but it was Armiger who'd supplied the name of the establishment they were supposedly heading to.
"That's true," Triumph said, nodding. "The guys talk about how Armiger cooks Chinese a lot. He's apparently pretty good at it."
Director silenced him with a single glare before turning her attention back to Colin, wordlessly demanding an explanation.
"It would've been in-and-out," Colin said evenly. "We were only going to stay long enough for the food to be prepared."
It wasn't as though the Protectorate avoided gang territories entirely. They couldn't. The law demanded response, no matter whose colors flew over the block. But maintaining a permanent presence there was another story. Every attempt at regular patrols ended the same way: gradual attrition and an eventual retreat.
Before Panacea, ever escalating skirmishes cost them too much. When they didn't lose capes or PRT personnel outright, the team became bogged down until other gangs realized the Protectorate's focus had shifted and escalated their own activity. Each time, the PRT had to pull back just to keep the city from burning somewhere else.
After enough failures, policy evolved into pragmatism of the new doctrine. Containment: limit damage, manage escalation, and let the gangs tear at each other while the PRT picked off the strugglers. Ideally, that would gradually shift the overall balance of power in the PRT's favor, but so far the results were far from ideal.
In the end, the real risk of walking into ABB territory wasn't to them—it was to the civilians running the food stall. A visit from costumed heroes could earn unwanted attention from the gang. Still, the point was academic. The entire trip was a fabrication anyway.
"How do you even know that place?" Assault asked. "As I'd said, you don't ever go out. Not when I call you out for drinks, not when I invite you home for BBQ, and not on your own either. You'd rather chug that weird sludge you live on."
Colin's jaw tightened. Why was Assault fixated on this? It made no sense.
If he didn't know better, he'd think the man was deliberately trying to poke holes in his story. Even if Assault did suspect something, Colin doubted he cared enough about protocol, or law for that matter, to report it. Blackmail, maybe—but public exposure? No. It didn't fit. Most likely, it was his usual idle curiosity and rumormongering. Colin accounted for every reasonable line of questioning—except the inane!
Colin would rather ignore it and move on, but Director was looking at him expectantly.
Why would he know a food stall at the Asian market by name? For that matter, why had Armiger?
He needed to come up with something believable—and fast.
"It was where I took his mother on a date," Colin said at last, the words leaving his mouth before his brain caught up. It was the first vaguely credible excuse that came to mind.
Director's eyes couldn't possibly get any flatter.
Damn it! Nobody in this room, not even Piggot, knew that his one and only meeting with the woman hadn't even taken place in Brockton Bay, but the statistical odds of the same food stall surviving in this city for thirteen years were—
"And it worked?" Assault asked in incredulity. "You actually pulled? It took me—"
Battery cut him off with a sharp elbow to the ribs.
They bought it?
His eyes darted back to Director to confirm
"Right," she drawled, sounding absolutely done with everything. She flipped to the next page. "On your way there, you spotted a fire in the Docks and moved to investigate. Aerial reconnaissance from Argent confirmed an altercation between Lung and the Undersiders. Specifically Grue, Regent, Hellhound, Tattletale, and a fifth, as-yet-unidentified member. Correct?"
Finally. A section of the report he could navigate without improvisation.
"Yes."
Director continued, eyes still on the paper. "You assessed the situation and chose to engage. You focused on subduing Lung, relying on the new anti-brute tranquilizer, while Argent moved to apprehend the Undersiders. She succeeded, aided by expanded power capabilities provided by…" her eyes flicked up from the page. "Sword of Paracelsus?"
Colin resisted the urge to sigh. "The name was Armiger's idea."
It was something of a tradition among Tinkers to give flashy names to their creations. Even he understood the benefits of a marketable name, not to mention how pride in one's work that demanded a good name. However, he preferred to let the quality speak for itself, or if the situation called for distinction to use names that reflected function. That's why his halberd was simply the halberd, and his new weapon was nanothorn.
Armiger's naming sense was pure flair. Even Kid Win was better in that regard.
"Pretty sure I know the guy," Assault said, scratching his jaw.
"Famous Renaissance physician of Swiss origin," Hannah supplied helpfully. "Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus—"
Assault shot her a deadpan look.
"—von Hohenheim. Paracelsus was more of an alias."
"Right, my old pal Phil Bombastus," he said, rolling his eyes. "Sure. Come on, Hannah. You really think anyone but you can memorize that name? Didn't take you for a history buff."
She shrugged. "He's also a popular figure in media. An alchemist, more or less."
Assault snapped his fingers. "That's it! Acid Tinker from Oregon!"
Colin's eyes flicked across his HUD as he ran a quick query. He'd already reviewed every PRT-registered chemical Tinker while developing the tranquilizer for Lung. Had he overlooked one? Specialization in acids would have been very useful.
Name: Paracelsus
Affiliation: Independent Villain
Specialization: Hallucinogenic agents
Location: Corvallis, Oregon – primarily operating near OSU
Record: Multiple civilian deaths (2006), including one minor; apprehended by Portland Protectorate; pled manslaughter, sentenced for murder; scheduled for Birdcage transfer; escaped in transit with third-party assistance.
Status: Deceased – Leviathan, 2007.
Colin didn't need to ask how Assault knew him. He could guess.
Director slammed her fist on the table. "I don't give a damn what a teenager calls his new toy! Armsmaster—explain why an untested piece of tinkertech was deployed in my city!"
Colin had expected this. "Ma'am, the reasoning is detailed in my report."
"I'd like to hear it from you," she narrowed her eyes.
"The Undersiders engaged Lung with completely inadequate force," Colin said evenly. "He exploited their mistake and faked a struggle to build momentum and ramp up unchecked. Once they realized their mistake, retreat was inevitable, but Lung's transformation was already approaching a Mover classification. If we hadn't intervened, we would've been facing a pursuit engagement across the city between two highly mobile parties. The potential for collateral was catastrophic. The only viable solution was to end the fight immediately."
He was repeating Argent's reasoning word for word, presenting it as his own.
When Colin got the call from the girl, he dropped everything and went straight to her coordinates. He didn't know what to think when her signal rapidly changed positioning by nearly a mile; he just gritted his teeth and moved to their new location, pushing his motorcycle to the limit.
He was still too late.
Lung was sprawled across the pavement, unconscious and missing legs, while Armiger stood over him with an axe. The prize Colin had worked toward for months—the clean arrest that would cement his promotion—was lying there, naked and defeated, claimed by someone else.
Colin was furious.
He fired the tranquilizer anyway, mind racing for a way to bargain, trick or pressure the children into giving him the credit.
That's when Argent dropped from the sky holding a sword and immediately started talking about what a professional achievement Lung's capture would be, what it could do for his career—as if Colin didn't know that!—and the safety of Brockton Bay.
All he had to do, she said, was help cover a small infraction: one unauthorized tinkertech deployment.
Caught on the back foot by this turn of events, Colin did the only thing that came naturally—he started asking technical questions.
According to Argent, Armiger had "projected" a "quantum computer" for her on their way out of the lab. This, she explained, caused an "uncharacteristic lapse in composure," for which she was "deeply ashamed" and which she swore "would not happen again."
In plain language, she'd gotten overexcited about her newfound ability to fly freely and immediately took her brother on a joyride over Brockton Bay. At some point, they'd spotted Lung and the Undersiders, and from there, reporting to the PRT was unavoidable.
Once she'd finished the rest of her account—an almost farcical attempt to dodge responsibility that somehow resulted in six unconscious villains—she'd made him an offer.
Colin would take credit for the arrests. In exchange, he'd give the siblings an alibi.
He couldn't believe his luck. Literally couldn't.
If only he had his lie-detector. Unfortunate that the project wasn't operational yet. The prototype should have worked, but further live testing produced erratic 'partial truth' readings even with the simplest, verifiable questions.
He'd double-checked the system himself. Triple-checked. The data didn't lie. The lie-detector, apparently, did.
Colin took pride in his work, but there was no arguing with objective reality. When name, age, race, gender, nationality and height returned a 'partial truth' result, he had a choice to doubt either his tech or his eyes.
In the end, Colin had determined it had been overtrained on Dragon and himself. Further recalibration just made things worse. Before long, all four test subjects spoke in 'partial truths.'
And that meant that he had to figure it out on his own.
The use of unapproved tinkertech was technically a serious infraction, yes, but the device wasn't hazardous in itself, and the capture of both Lung and the Undersiders was a massive victory for the PRT.
They'd get a slap on the wrist, a few stern lectures, and glowing commendations.
Try as he might, he couldn't see the angle other than a childish instinct to avoid punishment at any cost. Naivete. They didn't understand just how much they were giving away.
Colin took the deal.
They'd shaken hands and constructed a story that served everyone's interests: Colin took down Lung single-handedly; Argent apprehended the Undersiders. He'd considered claiming both takedowns, but the Undersiders were too likely to cooperate in interrogation and expose the lie.
Armiger didn't care if he got any credit, and was more preoccupied with dogs trying to maul him. His contribution to the lies was shaping a bundle of swords and debris into a believable facsimile of a sidecar for Colin's motorcycle.
As for the PHQ's surveillance and sensor logs, even Dragon would have trouble finding signs of tampering. Colin had full access to the system and was the person who maintained critical hardware.
"You could've just sent both siblings after the Undersiders," Director said coldly. "Why was it necessary to authorize the sword at all?"
Hannah spoke up before he could answer. "Ma'am, that would've been sending two Wards into a two-on-five fight. One of them unknown."
"The Undersiders are approved for Ward-level engagements," Director shot back.
"Ma'am…" Hannah tried again, but was cut off with a sharp wave of a hand.
"They've handled worse odds," she said dryly. "To the point where we had to convince the public that the poor Nazis weren't bullied by our Wards."
Triumph snorted. He wasn't the only one.
From what Colin gathered, the whole department only learned about the leak after receiving a frantic call from New York. Chambers had called Director with "emergency instructions" to Argent and Armiger, and a demand to "deal with this shit now," before the story escaped Brockton Bay's infosphere and affected the national image of the Wards program.
The following day, Williams, their own head of Image, received an email from Chambers commending her for her 'creative response to a delicate situation.' It was followed by another email, informing Williams that her yearly bonus was slashed.
Director wasn't happy her department missed the leak.
Assault recounted the story to Colin over the coffee machine, while Colin debated whether sacrificing lab space for his own unit would be worth it.
Still, his curiosity was piqued. In the same timeframe, Colin's analytics software flagged a sudden uptick in his own name searches and popularity metrics. He'd checked the PHO thread himself to see what kind of spin had been put on the video, and by the time he finished reading it became obvious to him that whatever "script" Chambers had prepared, Argent and Armiger had gone completely off-book.
As the former coordinator for the Wards, Colin knew exactly how situations like this were supposed to be handled. At the very least, he was well-versed in the standard procedures and precedents.
With a child like Argent, the formula was simple: lean into her age. Play up the innocence, the vulnerability, the "just a frightened girl doing her best" angle until the audience started to feel guilty for judging her. The goal was to convince viewers that the footage captured a misleading moment, or at worst, a frightened child reacting to a dangerous situation. This approach had its downsides, and Argent herself was the furthers thing from a frightened child, but it was still the tried-and-true method in most cases.
Armiger's treatment would have followed the same playbook with a few minor adjustments.
But that wasn't how it played out. Argent went on the offensive instead.
The girl brutally tore into Krieg's public persona with the dry, cutting wit that felt both humorous and unsettling coming from a child. The way she highlighted the villain's inadequacies, paired with her vocabulary and surprisingly deep knowledge of military history lent the entire scene a surreal air that, paired with public disdain for the Empire, deflected attention from her own conduct.
Colin had to admit—it was masterfully done. The girl had taken Krieg's reputation apart on live broadcast, piece by piece, until the entire encounter, and the man himself, looked like nothing more than a farce. She had even deflected accusations toward the PRT and directed some positive comments to Colin, which explained the metrics.
Armiger, for his part, had done the bare minimum—and even that, Colin suspected, was only because Argent literally breathed down his neck. Ironically, that made the whole thing more believable. The contrast between her polish and his reluctance turned the exchange into an unintentional routine. It worked precisely because it didn't feel rehearsed.
Because it wasn't. Colin had heard enough of their banter to know that the siblings were acting naturally.
Williams' commendation was entirely undeserved.
In the end, the outcome had been positive for the PRT's image, even if Argent herself wasn't pleased with how it played out.
Colin shook off idle thoughts, and proceeded with the explanation.
"I don't see how the siblings would win that engagement. Leaving out Hellhound's dogs, Grue and Regent complicate close-quarters combat. And it would have to be close-quarters, since the Undersiders were on a nearby roof. Argent can't fly and attack simultaneously—she'd have to pick one. Armiger's ranged options are minimal and could only be used for a swift takedown if set up an ambush, which wasn't feasible with Lung escalating by the second. The fifth member—a Master with insect control—made it worse. The swarm that attacked Argent would've been lethal if not for her sealed forcefield. Which, again, prevents her from using other powers at the same time."
He paused, then added, "As for why I ordered them to engage the Undersiders; we couldn't risk them interfering. Their approach to Lung had already demonstrated dangerously poor judgment."
Director grunted in reluctant agreement. Her face practically screamed 'idiots'.
Colin couldn't disagree. Lung's power was public knowledge. If Argent's account was accurate, the Undersiders' approach could only be described as suicidal stupidity.
"So, to prevent one scenario with catastrophic collateral, you decided to create another?"
Colin frowned. "Ma'am?"
"I'm asking why you thought breaking tinkertech authorization protocols by giving Argent a device that could level the city was a good idea. For that matter, why was it there at all?"
"Armiger created a copy on-site. And Sword of Paracelsus is an advanced computer. It has no offensive function on its own."
Besides being a sword.
"And yet," Director said, her tone razor-sharp, "the girl can use it to access her full power. Did you think it was coincidence I've never authorized anything more advanced than a calculator for her?"
"Wait," Assault cut in, "you're crippling her? On purpose?"
Director slammed a folder down. "Rapid fire high-yield explosive barrages, long-range precision lasers strong enough to cut steel, wide area napalm bombardments and supersonic maneuverability; all in the hands of a nine-year-old," she stressed. "That's not even the full list. Do I need to elaborate?
Assault held up his hands. "I get it, but it can go bad the other way too. What if she gets hurt because of that?"
Director glared daggers at him. "What if she puts a hole through a residential block? Giving A-class tinkertech to a child might protect her but endangers everyone else. That's not how the PRT operates."
"Director, calling it A-class is categorically wrong," Colin argued.
"I don't care about nomenclature, Armsmaster! As far as I am concerned, anything that gives Argent her full power is automatically A-class!"
"I thought Armiger's weapons were labeled as totemic items," Dauntless said, trying to deescalate tensions.
"Miller marked them as such," she huffed, flipping through her folder, "but given this new development, we'll have to reclassify. Azur Wand could have been described as—"
"Azoth Sword," Hannah corrected, almost reflexively.
Director's jaw tightened. "Thank you, Miss Militia," she said, teeth audibly clenched. "The Azoth Sword can't be cleanly categorized as tinkertech. It doesn't fit our definition of technology and wasn't constructed with any kind of fabrication tools. As such, it was registered as a Trump-derivative, power-amplifying totemic item, despite Armiger's profile listing him as a Tinker."
Back in February, Colin would have classified Armiger as a Trump and left it at that. But Armiger's ability to reproduce tinkertech blurred the line considerably. At this point, Colin supposed he could be considered a Tinker 0 purely by virtue of having access to his own equipment.
"But it's hard to file the paperwork for a totemic item when the item in question is a computer," Director concluded.
Triumph lifted a hand. "Wait, if you're deliberately limiting her, why give her a power booster at all?"
She shot him an irritated look. "I'm not trying to keep her helpless. I'm trying to keep her from glassing a city block. The Azoth Sword only boosts her output slightly, so it's manageable."
Then she turned toward Assault, tone dry as sandpaper. "For the record, I even have a nice portable gaming PC in storage for her. Should we ever reach a point when a nine-year-old Blaster Eight is considered acceptable."
"It won't work," Colin cut in.
Every head turned toward him.
"According to Armiger," he explained, "the reason Argent's calculators melt isn't overheating. The issue is energy build-up that destabilizes the material structure. He also warned that using stronger components without adequate capacitors would lead to explosive failure."
"And he knows that how?" Director pressed. "For that matter, how do we know Argent's new sword isn't a bomb? Did you check?"
No. He hadn't. But admitting that was out of the question. His side of the deal was to reinforce the fiction that everything had been tested and cleared. That was why the report stated the sword had been created in his lab and verified for safety. On paper, it wasn't a completely unknown potential hazard—just an unregistered computation device.
At least that was Colin's logic. He hadn't predicted the Director would treat Argent herself as the real hazard.
"I did," he lied. "Armiger appears to have a measure of insight into the mechanics of Argent's power. I would say, any new equipment for her should probably pass through him first. Though," he added, "his explanations don't always make things clearer."
Director raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"It looks like he understands the underlying mechanics of his own work, as well as his power," Colin said, "but he's terrible at expressing it. Either he goes quiet or starts describing things in—" he hesitated "—esoteric terms. Symbolism and occult references."
Assault gave a snort of laughter. "What, he's one of those Myrddin fanboys?"
"If Argent's to be believed," Colin replied, nodding slightly, "interest in such things isn't uncommon for their age group these days. According to her, every classroom has one. Her theory is that her brother just lacks formal grounding in engineering and falls back on language he understands better."
At least that's what the girl told him while Armiger was trying to drive away the dogs.
In Colin's experience, plenty of Tinkers lacked formal education before triggering. It didn't matter. Their powers compensated, and immersion did the rest. They learned by doing, by proximity, by instinct.
But even with vastly different specialties, there was usually some shared language—mathematical, procedural or mechanical. Just looking at someone's work helped.
With Armiger, there was none. No, that's not entirely correct. If the boy's power didn't provide enough information for replication, he asked for clarifications. But Colin could tell that Armiger understood him only to a degree. It was more important for the boy to know what something is and how it works, and only surface-level understanding of how it was built.
Parsing Armiger's own explanations into something coherent took more effort than he liked to admit. It served to remind Colin how easy everything felt with Dragon.
Another point for Armiger not being a Tinker, except...
Every Tinker Colin had ever met could design some form of advanced computational system—whether electronic, organic, chemical, or extradimensional. They were a requirement for the operation and construction of complex designs. Statistically, computers are among the first projects of most Tinker.
And now it was the first original piece of technology that came from the boy.
It could have been that the sword was simply a derivative from Colin's tech, but no. Unless the boy's description of it was false, there wasn't a functioning example of quantum computation technology on-site.
It was a promising line of research, certainly. In practice, Colin's own specialization already produced microprocessors powerful enough for his requirements. Pursuing quantum architecture would have been redundant, or hard to justify at the very least.
Still, now that he had a working example right in front of him, curiosity itched at the back of his mind.
In the end, Colin had insisted on using a more general term in his reports. Armiger's overview of his device had been, at the very least, opaque, and labeling it a 'supercomputer' was just the most convenient fiction. If that turned out wrong, so be it. No one could accuse Colin of lying about examining the sword in his lab.
"I can confirm that," Hannah said. "I was present when he made the Azoth Sword for Tanya. Chris was curious, and Shirou described it as 'ground gemstones alchemically infused into steel.' He did make an effort to put it into more scientific terms for Chris afterward."
Dauntless nodded.
"Don't Tinkers usually understand each other when they talk?" Velocity asked Colin.
"Usually," he admitted. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Hannah turned to him as well. "By the way, Colin, did you ever talk to Tanya about self-har—"
"We are getting off topic," Director lost her patience with the chatter. "Miss Militia, after the meeting, you'll head straight to the Wards quarters and retrieve the sword. Once tested, it goes straight into containment. Effective immediately, it's classified as A-class tinkertech. I don't want the girl anywhere near it without my direct authorization."
Her tone left no room for interpretation.
Hannah gave her a look. "Ma'am, Armiger can just make another one."
"Then impress it to him that going against my orders will land him in a world of trouble."
Hannah exhaled quietly and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
There wasn't anything else she could say.
"Moving on," Director said, flipping to another file. "Beyond the unauthorized tinkertech deployment, we have an issue with the Undersiders. Grue, Regent, Tattletale, and Hellhound are refusing to cooperate with interrogation. The new cape, however, started singing the moment she woke up."
Velocity leaned forward. "Anything useful?"
Director's expression flattened. "According to the temporary designation Five, she's a hero. Claims the whole arrest was a big misunderstanding."
Colin frowned. "You believe her?"
Director looked at the file. "Her story is that this was her first patrol. She stumbled onto Lung in the middle of ordering to double-tap kids. The 'kids' turned out to be the Undersiders, but she didn't know that and attacked Lung to stop him."
Battery leaned forward. "Hold on. You said she's a bug-controlling Master? Does she enhance them somehow?"
She shook her head. "No enhancement, just control. Though a lot of it. Argent's report mentions an impressive swarm. According to Five, she tried to poison Lung by pumping him full of venom—bees, black widows, anything she could muster. She claims it worked. Made Lung sluggish and disoriented. But not fast enough and she still would've died if the Undersiders hadn't stepped in."
"That can't be right," Colin objected. "I've got extensive data on Lung's biochemical resistance. The amount of venom needed to noticeably slow him would be lethal to a normal human."
Especially if he'd reached the transformation stage Argent described.
Director raised an eyebrow. "So? The girl had a lot of bugs."
Colin exhaled through his nose. "The anti-brute tranquilizer only works because it suppresses metabolic pathways tied to regeneration. My previous attempts at tranquilizers failed because I couldn't breach Lung's resistance threshold. So I designed a workaround. The regeneration-suppressing aspect of the tranquilizer is actually secondary—the key function is its ability to bypass and shut down Lung's resistance."
Although at a certain stage of transformation even that wouldn't be enough.
She cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. "And? I don't need the full dissertation, Armsmaster. Get to the point."
"If Five's telling the truth, then right now Lung should be dying from toxic shock and massive tissue necrosis. His system doesn't automatically purge toxins on entry; it only neutralizes them."
Hannah immediately followed the logic. "If your tranquilizer's still active—"
Colin shook his head. "It should've worn off by now, but it doesn't matter. Lung has a baseline regeneration and toxin resistance but it scales with his growth, and he had spent an hour without. With this amount of venom in his system, Lung should be awake and screaming from unimaginable pain."
The room went quiet for a beat.
Director broke it, looking at her phone. "Since our medics aren't screaming for Panacea, I think we can conclude Five's lying. The question is why."
"To get out of trouble?" Battery offered.
Director was skeptical. "How would that even work? If she's lying about not being one of the Undersiders, all it takes is one of them talking to prove it. And if she's telling the truth, then she still attacked Argent with potentially lethal force."
"Lethal?" Dauntless asked.
"We just went over what a swarm of poisonous insects can do to a full-grown man with regeneration. Argent is a slip of a girl."
Hannah leaned forward. "Director, is that really fair? Argent attacked them first. If this girl's actually a hero, then we're the ones in the wrong. And there is also no indication that Five attacked her with poisonous variants."
"There is no indication to the contrary either. We'll have to ask more questions. And yes, Argent potentially attacking a hero is a concern, but circumstances are on our side. It's a fact that Five wasn't fighting the Undersiders. With Lung escalating, there wasn't time for careful identification. And her attack on Argent came after she was ordered to surrender. By all accounts, Five was the only one who fought back."
She closed the file with a dry huff. "So unless the Undersiders start complaining that they caught flak for an unaffiliated party, we're in the clear."
Hannah didn't look pleased.
"Maybe that's why she's lying about Lung?" Battery suggested. "If he was already on his last legs, it makes our response look excessive. Gives more weight to any complaints about excessive force."
Director considered it for half a second before shaking her head. "Possible. But those complaints only matter if she's actually a hero—and I doubt she's that calculating. Anyone who thought soloing Lung was a good idea isn't playing the long game."
Hannah spoke up. "What's our plan for her, Director? Even if she's with the Undersiders, she's a recent addition. There's no evidence that she's tied to their older cases."
"She's under investigation," Director said. "Keep her for a few days. If none of the Undersiders confirm her affiliation, we'll offer her a choice—probationary enlistment or juvenile detention."
"And if she's a villain?" Battery asked.
Director shrugged. "The same offer goes for the others, with the exception of Miss Lindt, who's wanted for murder. Grue's power's too distinctive, so if he takes the deal, he'll be transferred out of state. Regent and Tattletale are relatively clean and might qualify for rebranding. I doubt we'll keep both, but we'll see."
"Director," Hannah said carefully, "if Five really is a hero, maybe we shouldn't come down so hard."
"If her story's true, she didn't come to us—she tried suicide by Lung, then suicide by Argent, all in one night. She's reckless. If we don't rein her in, she'll be dead in a gutter within a month. Just like all other idiot teenagers who think they can play lone wolf."
She leaned back, expression hard. "And unlike Shadow Stalker, Five can't phase through bullets."
The rest of the meeting concluded quickly. When the others filed out, Colin was told to stay.
"I don't know why you're bullshitting me, Armsmaster," she said without preamble. "I just know that you are." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Taking down both Lung and the Undersiders is exactly the kind of win this department needed after the fiasco with the Empire capes. So I'll let it slide." She leaned back slightly, tone hardening. "Once. But don't you ever go over my head like that again. Am I clear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. I want the full gamut of tests done on the sword and every entry signed by you personally. Dismissed."
Colin hesitated for a heartbeat, then let it go. Not worth the argument. Tinkertech analysis was familiar ground, and useful besides. He'd still be looking over Kid Win's projects, too, if the boy hadn't stagnated for so long.
Why make an exception for Armiger's sword?
He got everything he wanted anyway.
A/N
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