From beneath the wings of the Valkyries, hovering in the air at a distance, rockets armed with Zero Time warheads launch, and Siberian freezes for a moment—but immediately vanishes from one spot and reappears slightly to the left. What kind of power is that?! Even the Destroyer (Gubitel) was shaken and stalled (for a few seconds, but still!), and she… it was as if nothing happened at all.
Well… if ordinary methods don't work—time to use the unusual. Pain impulses, festering wounds—they don't work on Siberian either. Insects near the Plant die immediately due to the airborne tinker aerosol from Bonesaw (Amputation)… It seems like no physical attack can harm her. The history of fights against other capes shows that neither Alexandria's blows, nor Legend's rays, nor Eidolon's conceptual attacks work against this woman. Who is she?!
I recall everything that's ever been written about her online. She's unstoppable, irrepressible, invulnerable—but the same is said of me. The same is said about Alexandria… except, there are no true invulnerables. Everyone has their Achilles' heel, everyone can be brought down. Alexandria can be killed—even if no one knew exactly how. I can be killed. My real body, I—Amy Dallon—am sitting right now in an armored room on the thirteenth sub-level of the base, biting my lip, trying to think what to do; beside me, Lisa (Tattletale) grips her armrests, hunched forward, watching the high-res camera feed from my Valkyries.
"Experimental ordinance!" she snaps. "Quickly!" "Roger!" I-Taylor dodge yet another car thrown at me by Siberian and give the command. Two rockets with Tomoko's experimental bombs launch from under Valkyrie's wings. A swift white slash across the sky, the rockets travel their ballistic arcs, digging into the concrete on both sides of Siberian, swelling into semi-transparent bubbles, and I feel Taylor's body twist and contract, I lose control and plunge down, seeing nothing from the blinding wave...
"Fuck!" I-Amy force out through clenched teeth, curling up in the chair. "Lisa! Couldn't you have warned me?! Damn! Ow... fuck... oh... shit..." "The O-warhead's blast radius is higher than calculated," Tattletale nods, glancing my way, "but it doesn't matter. Look! We hit her!"
I-Amy look up at the screens. I'm shaking; my Taylor-bodies are scattered on the Plant parking lot, wrecked, unable to even lift their heads, convulsing and drooling… but the Valkyrie feed shows that Siberian is gone.
"Well, at least we can state the Orgasm-bomb works… although…" Tattletale leans over the keyboard and rewinds to the moment the O-warheads exploded, forcing Siberian to vanish.
I-Amy clench my teeth, curling tighter, waiting for everything to stop contracting inside and for that pleasant languor throughout my body to fade. Tomoko's Orgasm-bomb... horrifying thing. Not only did the six clone bodies collapse, unable to act consciously, but it affected even my main body... for a few seconds I was blinded and completely unaware of my surroundings, unable to control myself.
"Here!" Tattletale freezes the recording: "A fraction of a second before she disappears, look!" She jabs her finger at the screen. Siberian's face is distorted on the display.
"She's known for her composure. Her face is usually an icy mask," Tattletale observes. "Well, that's it, we got her. I got her, Taylor!"
"What? You know how to beat her?" I manage, fighting the urge to fall back and sleep. Or smoke. After something like that…
"She isn't invulnerable. Zero Time works on everyone. Her too. But… she vanishes the instant she takes the slightest damage. Then reappears. Siberian is a projection."
"A projection? So…"
"The O-warhead hit the area, catching her host cape. The O-warhead's radius was bigger than calculated, but just barely. The host creating Siberian's projection is within the strike zone right now! If it weren't for the Amputation aerosol, we'd already know who and where."
"Him? You're sure it's a man?" I-Amy try to pull myself together, clenching fists and jaw, driving out the afterglow. I'll have to change my underwear…
"One hundred percent. No woman's projection would be so vulgar. Siberian is like the unconscious drive for possession made manifest… she's naked and shameless, but her movements are masculine. At first, I thought it was a trans person, someone of today's generation who hasn't chosen a gender, but now I know. Siberian's master is a white male, around fifty-five to sixty. And he's here, at the Plant. If you didn't need Amputation intact…" She doesn't finish, but I understand. If it wasn't necessary to bring Amputation back alive and relatively unharmed—my Valkyries would be blitzing, dropping "Baby" bombs, annihilating the Plant and everything around for two miles… This area's already mostly deserted, I could evacuate everyone in half an hour. Half an hour and—boom! The Plant is reduced to dust and molten glass, and the Slaughterhouse Nine cease to exist.
But no, I need Amputation, damn her! I send some Valkyries back to base, hitting the selector button as I do.
"Tomoko?" I say, knowing that right now in the workshop, Bakuda is jolting, lowering her tools and turning to the speaker.
"Taylor-sama?" she answers.
"I need O-warheads for rockets. All you have. Also, four 'Baby' bombs. And... ammo for the Jackal. If there's anything effective over a huge area, but non-lethal, like the O-bombs…"
"Uh… sorry, Taylor-sama. The ammunition that causes spontaneous orgasm was made at Tattletale's request, and there's not much. Didn't think it'd be useful." Tomoko scratches her head, then immediately lowers her hand.
"That's your plan?" Tattletale asks, head tipped. "It's raw. I need more data…"
"We've got the Plant area covered in insects. No one gets in or out. By bombing the area with O-ammo, we'll pin down the host cape creating Siberian. Then we hit with Zero-T or something stronger."
"Taylor, you'll need help. Stop trying to do everything alone," says Tattletale. "Enough heroics."
"Alright. You're right," I say. At that moment, red lights flare across the base and a siren blares. Battle alert! I see, at the same moment, my operators spring into action, running, boot soles hammering concrete halls, moving fast but not frantic—assembling weapons, checking chambered rounds, buckling straps, donning helmets, masks dropping over faces, I see Hellhound grinning, Grue sighing as he lowers his visor, Trickster flinching with Sundancer beside him, Ballistic smiling… many people and capes ready now to back me up. I'm not alone.
"The Slaughterhouse Nine are in the city!" I announce over the base loudspeakers, also posting to the net for our people on the outside: "Plant warehouse district! Goal—block any attempted breakout!. Only three left—Jack Slash, Siberian, and Bonesaw! Bonesaw must be taken alive! Maybe missing her arms and legs, but alive. The rest… expendable. Free use of any powers or force authorized. Capes will report directly to Tattletale. Civil defense team leaders act as they see fit for their objectives. Good hunting, everyone!" I release the selector and turn to Tattletale: "You'll do a better job commanding the capes than I will. And Dmitri is better than both of us with his men."
"Dmitri, not Jane?" Tattletale jokes, raising her hands in mock surrender: "Okay, okay, not the time. Break a leg out there, Taylor."
"You break a leg," I shoot back. "Get everyone in position, I'll…"
While six of my Taylor-bodies are sprawled out on the Plant's lot and Siberian's vanished, Taylor-89 makes her way inside. The distance from the lot to the cold-storage chambers inside is nearly a mile. The O-bomb wave didn't reach here. Some kind of aerosol… or a force field, I don't know, but none of my insects can get in; they die instantly, even though they don't breathe, don't need oxygen. Even in autonomous mode, they drop dead. I have no other way, so a few of my Taylors infiltrate from different angles. The first runs into a man sitting in a room. The man himself—leather jacket, bandana on his head, thinning gray hair poking out from under it. He's sitting on a chair, legs crossed, flipping a sharp knife in the air, catching it.
"Administrator!" he grins the moment he sees me. "What a meeting! I've been waiting for you! Riley! Riley! Come see who's here!"
Without a pause, I hit him with a pain beam and try to trigger festering wounds, and swing blood blades! And… miss. I go for a direct attack, Jack swings his knife and…
Another Taylor enters the same room, seeing Jack on the chair and a body lying before him. Augmented. Upgraded. Fast, almost invulnerable, with such regeneration it could regrow a hand and even a head—in the end, I've got Tactician's danger sense! In close to mid-range, I'm still deadly and almost invincible, even without my Swarm. And yet… Jack swung the knife and one of my bodies hits the floor at his feet. Dead. Truly dead. Crown Gemma region is severed. That body—only good for the organ-gel recycler.
"That was rude," Jack says. "Really. Do you always greet guests this way in Brockton Bay?"
"Usually not," I answer, holding off on attacking. The first failed attempt showed that it's better to gather information. After all, Jack's talking to me. Maybe we can negotiate. Or not? So far everyone who's talked to Jack—either died or joined the Nine.
"Riley!" he calls, and the door to the room opens. A girl enters, and I feel a lump in my throat. She's identical to the girl whose hand I grabbed in that van.
"Jack?" she asks, glancing my way. "What is it?"
"Riley, be a good girl and meet our new girl. This is Taylor, she hasn't passed the trials yet, but I have a very good feeling." Jack's bright and cheery.
"I don't like her," Riley retorts, looking aside. "She killed Ned. And Alan! And…"
"Riley!" Jack raises a finger, wagging it side to side. "Really now. You'll have your chance to punish her during the trial. For now—say hello."
"Hello," the girl bows obediently. "Too bad you killed Megawatt and Barrier. I would've made them into dolls. But… still, I managed something…"
"Right," Jack grins. "Gifts for guests. Did you prepare yours?"
"Of course," she nods. "I knew Taylor would join us."
"If we're talking amicably…" I-Taylor say, finding a chair and dragging it to the middle of the empty room, "…then maybe you'll hear my proposal?"
"Why not!" Jack almost laughs. "Go ahead, let's hear it. Riley? Gotta pay attention to the girl who made Siberian back off! When's the last time that happened? Oh, right—never. You see why I have a good feeling, Riley? Taylor is very strong. Plus… in this room, only one of her bodies. Her main's hidden somewhere safe, no doubt. But we're not shy. I'm fine dealing with a vat-grown body, as long as I get to talk to Taylor. Proxies, bodies, phone lines—it doesn't matter. So... what have you, Scourge of Destroyers, Mistress of the City, Babylonian Whore and Grim Priestess of Brockton Bay, got to offer the Nine?"
"Pretty pompous," I sit, looking at a body of mine lying on the dirty floor before me. My bodies all look the same. Perfect proportions, the tactical suit makes my look even more attractive—but… I've noticed how death turns people into trash, just rotting meat… My own body, when I took it from the Plant, was just that. Broken, dull white eyes staring at nothing, a hideous rictus in a half-open mouth, frozen in such a pose they had to break the bones to get it in a body bag… They say if you don't tie the jaw right after death the corpse will always have that silly gaping mouth. For an open-casket funeral they'd have to break your jaw. Glue your lips with medical glue. That's how it was with Eric and Niall.
Death changes people. Now, lying on the floor before me is not a girl with perfect form, pretty face in tactical armor, but just a pile of flesh and bone… how fast a person becomes garbage. Jack's knife, one swing… and what did Lisa say? She will humble the proud and exalt the humble? My-Taylor's body lies on the dirty floor between me and Jack as a reminder: don't get cocky. My rise was too quick, I climbed too high among the country's strongest capes, my threat rating soared to SS plus. Only Killers (Destroyers) are higher… but that rating is about threat to civilians and infrastructure… and in those terms, I can inflict more damage in a minute than Siberian… or Jack. Because I have Panacea's powers… that makes me an existential risk. Making a virus to cause humanity's "D-Day" isn't hard at all. But humanity-threat ratings don't reflect actual combat ability. Numbers, ranks—they're not linear, can't give even the faintest hint of "can a whale take an elephant?" Powers and abilities work more like "rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock"… only there are hundreds, maybe thousands of options. Seemingly universal and always effective Tomoko bombs with Zero Time—worthless versus Siberian's projection. Pain pulses, festering wounds, blood blades—worthless against Jack.
"You just can't hit him," Tattletale comments. "He… I can't see his powers. Don't know, it's like fog in my head. I... hold on!" She cuts out, and I know she's boosting her power again… falls unconscious, her body defending itself from the strain. I glance at Jack again, who's rocking his leg, lazily tossing his knife in the air and catching it. So I can't hit him, huh? Why? What's wrong with me? Swara's power not working?
"Oh, it works!" comes Swara's voice from inside. "It always works!"
"All or nothing, that's Swara's rule. This time, looks like—nothing," muses the Fifth. "Tough opponent. I… can't see his weakness. Hmm… makes it more interesting. Let me at the chat? You're not attached to him, are you?"
"No. Not to him. I'm more wary of you," I answer.
"So, Taylor's proposal? But first…" Jack turns to Bonesaw, standing with hands together, picture of an obedient girl: "Riley, maybe you'll give Taylor her present?"
"Oh! Absolutely. Just a second…" Bonesaw steps aside. "We don't know each other well, Taylor, so it's all hurried. I know you were bullied at school. Bad girls. You don't like them. But you love your dad. So I made this for you. Even though you killed Ned! And Alan! And…"
"Riley!" Jack raises a finger. "What did we agree on?"
"Oh... sorry." She lowers her head. "Sorry, Taylor, I shouldn't hold grudges. Killed and killed. It happens. I'll definitely find a way to resurrect them all. Like you… I'm already getting there! Anyway…" She perks up, dashes to the door, flings it open. Metal spiders roll in hospital beds, covered by sheets. My heart skips when I see the covered bodies. No way?
"There!" Bonesaw whips off the sheets, and I—jump back. My father?! Danny?! But—how?!
Instantly, my Taylor that's by Danny grabs his hand, checking. No, that's my dad, yes—he's okay, but… who are the other two? I suddenly realize the bodies on the beds are much smaller than my dad… and overall smaller. Arms, legs have no muscles… Who are they?
"I made them for you," Bonesaw says. "I took those pesky girls you never liked and made them into the ones you love! Look! Now there's no Madison Clements, no Emma Barnes, but you have two more dads!"
"What?!" I say, peering at the bodies on the beds. One of the 'Dannies' opens their eyes and gives a quiet moan. Moan of pain and despair. Their eyes… her eyes. I recognize her. Emma Barnes, my former best friend—lying on the bed, mutilated and altered so much you'd mistake her for my dad at a distance.
"And to make it easier for you—I'll add that all the operations were done without anesthesia. They felt everything… but didn't die. It was hard… especially when I had to saw through the bones. But it all turned out fine! There! That's my gift for you, Taylor! And don't ever say I'm not a gracious hostess!"