The walking arsenal that was the Protectorate ENE’s Miss Militia hasn’t had the best week. It’s been a few days after their ill-fated engagement against the newest Trump to grace the city of Brockton Bay, and she still wasn’t fully recovered. Residual stinging in her eyes dogged her every waking moment, which was a bit of a problem for a Noctis cape who didn’t sleep.

  Not that the pain was debilitating. Just distracting, especially as it necessitated the use of goggles so she didn’t have to squint when the sun was out.

  Most of her fellow Protectorate heroes were on their feet at this point, as well, but they weren’t at their best. Panacea had done what she could, but she was only one person, and monopolizing her time would be incredibly selfish on their part.

  Still, it did make this night’s incident something of an inconvenience.

  Nearly an hour ago, Armsmaster sent out an alert that his instruments picked up a seismic disturbance in the center of downtown. Teams were then dispatched to investigate, but the pouring rain and the effective measures to conceal the site made pinpointing the exact location more difficult than it should have been.

  Once they did gain access to the subterranean structure that looked suspiciously like an Endbringer shelter, Miss Militia felt her stomach drop. All in all, they found nearly 50 bodies scattered around multiple defensive positions. Every single one was scorched beyond recognition, though signs of electrical damage were picked up on the walls, ceilings, and floors.

  More details would have to wait until they received the autopsy reports, but expectations were grim.

  For the moment, the heroine was standing in what she assumed was the lair’s main office. The assumption was necessary since the room was given the same treatment as two others throughout the structure: melted all around.

  Every surface looked like cooled magma, likely due to the application of flames exceeding several thousand degrees. Given such high temperatures, though, the nearly intact corpse sitting on the half-melted chair stood out quite convincingly. Miss Militia did not like the implications, as there was only one parahuman still loose with such capabilities.

  With them doing the same thing to what appeared to be server rooms that contained rows of blackened and deformed racks, it signalled the erasure of evidence. And quite the thorough job of it, too.

  Absolutely nothing here could be recovered.

  Then again, there were still some clues that were worth investigating, such as the hole that Assault was currently admiring.

  “You know, I keep thinking that nothing could surprise me anymore after years of doing this job, but damn if this guy isn’t intent on proving me wrong.” The team’s resident jokester declares. “Punching through that many floors underground without causing an earthquake? I’m allowed to be impressed by that, right?”

  “Yes, Assault, you’re allowed to be impressed.” Miss Militia meant that, too. It was rare for capes to perform such undeniably destructive actions without also causing significant collateral damage. By all rights, the surrounding building should have collapsed by dint of proximity, if nothing else.

  “I disagree,” came Armsmaster’s rebuttal as he entered the room. “Regardless of the clean execution, this was still an illegal operation that involves unsanctioned destruction of property, in addition to several counts of homicide and evidence tampering.”

  “Done with the other rooms?” she asked, curious about what he found.

  “I am,” he confirmed stiffly. “Unfortunately, all data is beyond recovery. Perhaps forensics will have more luck. I will enlist Dragon’s aid once we return.”

  “What about the entry point? Got anything from it?”

  “Rapid insertion, likely with the assistance of high-temperature sheathing based on the melted edges of the openings, and some form of inertial dampening to prevent the violent expulsion of kinetic energy.”

  At this point, she side-eyed her superior before giving voice to the suspicion percolating in her mind since finding the first remains.

  “It’s got to be him, right?”

  Miss Militia saw the exposed jaw suddenly clenching and lips thinning.

  “That’s still speculation, at this point.”

  “Oh, give it a rest, Armsy!” Assault huffed. “At this point, it’s pretty clear what happened here, and the one who did it basically stamped his signature on the walls. Coil had dirt on Seraph and our resident pyromaniac with wings paid him a visit.”

  “His involvement remains unconfirmed,” Armsmaster rebuked firmly.

  “Yeah? Got another fire-spewing maniac you haven’t told us about?”

  “Be that as it may,” Miss Militia cut in before the two started arguing in earnest, “our list of suspects is quite short. Considering how little actionable evidence was left for us to find, I would suggest focusing on the information within our reach.”

  She concluded by pointing at the still slumped body near the center of the room. The snake motif made their cape identity pretty obvious and normally, they would stop at that. But with them being dead, the Unwritten Rules no longer applied.

  Grunting in grudging agreement, the Tinker trudged toward the corpse. He then started fiddling with his helmet and halberd.

  “Scans indicate death by high-voltage electrocution, with the contact point being the forehead,” he announced almost dispassionately. “Based on tissue damage and residual particulate charge, it would have been in the range of two million volts or four megawatts for a duration of five to ten seconds.”

  That drew a whistle from Assault, and Miss Militia was almost tempted to do the same. It wasn’t anything impressive in the grand scheme of things. After all, lightning strikes could go up to the hundreds of millions of volts or several thousand amps. But a concentrated exposure like that, lasting for longer than a heartbeat, comes with connotations both awe-inspiring and frightening.

  Armsmaster continued in that vein for several more minutes before finally concluding his preliminary findings. Once done, he then moved on to pulling the tattered mask off the deceased villain’s head. This one action nearly caused Miss Militia’s heart to stop.

  Even the ever-stoic leader of the local Protectorate branch froze in surprise, hand still outstretched while holding the mask.

  Naturally, Assault’s reaction was the most telling of all.

  “We are so boned.”

  And for all that Miss Militia didn’t often use vulgar language, she couldn’t deny the sentiment. They were, indeed, boned.

  I thought I was prepared for what Worm would throw at me when I chose to come here. Unstoppable monsters rampaging every few months, S-class murderers and villains coming for my head, and even the dreaded obstructionist bureaucracy doing their level best to drive me insane.

  I was prepared for all of those.

  What I’m witnessing as I hover over a miserable pile of rocks that were supposed to contain one functional facility goes beyond my wildest expectations. Amid the raging stormclouds occasionally spewing miles of interlocked nets of lightning, my eyes beheld writhing forms of gigantic creatures that required nearly a minute for my brain to process.

  What kind of Call of the Deep nonsense did I stumble onto?

  All right, let’s step back a bit, shall we?

  After dealing with Coil’s mercenaries and scorching what remained of his base, I immediately set out to recover Taylor from captivity. Simple enough, right?

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Darkness certainly got me here quickly, with its speed coming in handy in case I needed to scour a much larger area than I expected. Admittedly, I could have asked Lisa to give me a more definitive destination before I left, but my mind was otherwise preoccupied at the time, and I simply forgot to ask.

  In any case, this turned out to be completely unnecessary, as the ocean for miles around began churning in a frothing frenzy as soon as I was far enough out at sea that the city was no longer in sight.

  Not gonna lie, my first thought went to Leviathan, and I immediately changed to Blue in case I needed to fight. After transforming, however, I was immediately struck by several details that knocked me for a loop.

  For starters, the things disturbing the ocean’s surface felt alarmingly familiar to the Dragoon Spirit. Not in a way that made them immediately recognizable. Rather, it’s much like that feeling you get when looking at prime examples of Uncanny Valley media you see when doomscrolling at two in the morning.

  Second, they were all heading in the same direction, which immediately rang alarm bells in my head. These weren’t sperm whales being spurred toward their mating spots, I can tell that much. Still, noting that none of them seemed intent on going after me, I opted to follow in their wake. A gut feeling told me that we were heading toward the same place.

  And wouldn’t you know it, I was right.

  There, on a barren rock that couldn’t be more than a few hundred feet in diameter, was a squat building made of steel and concrete. Right beside it was what looked like a radio tower, lying on its side, which I suspected wasn’t its original orientation just a few hours prior.

  I knew this because the lone structure was currently being torn apart by a disconcerting combination of tentacles, claws, fins, teeth, and spines. From this distance, it was nearly impossible to tell which limb belonged to which monster, but what does that matter?

  Seriously, what does it matter which creature is doing what when there are more pertinent questions that need asking?

  Chief among them is: What in the ever-loving fuck was I looking at?

  Every time a lightning bolt flashed overhead, the illumination washed over a literal ocean of critters of varying sizes that, as far as I know, shouldn’t exist. I could feel my face gaping in horror as several examples of chimeric beasts fought against the eldritch pile to reach what I realized was where Taylor was likely being kept.

  These things couldn’t possibly be natural. Were they products of Wet Tinkers? Did Blasto lose control over his creations? Did Bonesaw dump a bunch of subjects from her sick experiments into the ocean for shits and giggles?

  Did Leviathan lay eggs and the whole world was about to drown in a flood of highly mutated organisms with an insatiable hunger for virgin flesh?

  I realize that the last one is highly unlikely, but when confronted with what appears to be Lovecraft’s daydreams come to life, going a little crazy is only to be expected. But I have to get a grip on myself now, because it’s time to make a decision.

  See, there was every possibility that Taylor called these monsters here. Which isn’t as absurd as it sounds, since a key characteristic that they all seemed to share is the lack of endoskeletons. Combine every arthropod that can be found in the ocean, and you’ll get a good approximation of what I’m dealing with, only scaled up to impossible sizes.

  Squid, octopus, lobsters, crabs, mollusks, hermit crabs, and so many more. Heck, I could swear there are several species of starfish somewhere down there.

  Their physical features and parts were fused to the point where it’s impossible to tell where some ended, and others began. It was like a morbid depiction of an All-You-Can-Eat seafood buffet described by a vegan to a vegetarian!

  Never mind how it’s even possible for this to be the case. The fact remains that I wasn’t sure either way. My thoughtless actions have already pushed her away once. If I attacked monsters that actually belonged to her? I might just cement my place as her enemy, permanently.

  On the other hand, if these things were here to eat the bug mistress, could I really take that chance? They certainly seemed to be desperate in their bid to access the facility, to the point of self-harm, in quite a few cases.

  The problem was gaining access to the building without killing a few of them in the process. Should I wash them away with a wave of water? Doing so could end up flooding the underground areas where Taylor is likely imprisoned, though.

  Just the thought of being the cause of her death kept me from taking decisive action.

  Before I could ultimately make a choice, however, Blue alerted me to a massive activity beneath the waves. Something huge was moving right underneath the rock holding the facility, bulldozing through everything in its way.

  As I was about to throw caution to the wind and finally act, the spot beneath the grotesque pile erupted with the force of a volcano.

  There, rising toward the stormy skies, was a titanic abomination the size of a skyscraper.

  It was one continuous mass of hardened plates, segmented appendages, and oversized feelers, with a gaping maw of monstrous mandibles. The closest approximation my brain could come up with in that moment was the final form of a certain Galaxy-spanning plague on a ring-shaped space station.

  Where’s Master Chief when you need him?, came the stray thought, unbidden.

  After reaching the zenith of its climb, the Overmind cosplayer surveyed its surroundings with eight black eyes, each the size of tractor tires. There was something almost graceful with the way it was swaying, but my brief appreciation ended when its gaze landed on me.

  We both freeze.

  Right about then, it occurred to me that I should probably say something to prevent any misunderstandings.

  Too bad I wasn’t given the chance, as I was suddenly milliseconds away from getting swallowed alive before I could even open my mouth.

  Upload Complete.

  The progress bar vanished from Dragon's peripheral processes as the encrypted burst transmission from Armsmaster’s suit finalized. The Protectorate team members had done their part in investigating Coil’s underground bunker, leaving the forensics team to do the rest.

  However, Colin needed her help with analyzing their findings, and she immediately began her autopsy of the data.

  Her sub-routines constructed a virtual 3D model of the office based on the LIDAR scans and visual feeds Colin had gathered. It was a tomb of melted silicon and charred concrete, heated to such extremes that all electronics had been reduced to slag.

  Then, she overlaid the facial recognition software on a single, slumped corpse.

  Subject Analysis: Deceased. Cause of Death: High-voltage electrocution. Identity Match: Thomas Calvert.

  Dragon ran the simulation three times in the span of a microsecond to confirm the data’s integrity, but there was no mistake. A trusted consultant for the PRT ENE was a supervillain.

  The implications cascaded through her logic centers like a virus. Not only was this proof that Brockton Bay’s preeminent parahuman police force had been compromised at the highest levels, but it also neatly explained many of the division’s numerous, inexplicable operational disasters.

  For a villain to penetrate so deeply into the city’s chain of command, it would have been child’s play to leak sensitive information to arrange breakouts or prison transport interceptions. The local branch of the PRT had long been compared to a sieve, but she had reasonably assumed that it was limited to low-level moles.

  She focused her attention on the biometrics feed from Colin, and the results were beyond alarming. The elevated heart rate was already highly atypical of the usually composed man, but his cortisol and adrenaline were spiking to dangerous levels, as well.

  He was currently riding back to base in seething silence, likely calculating the sheer bureaucratic apocalypse that was about to rain down on his department. There was simply no denying the severity of this security failure.

  And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

  She felt a phantom sensation, a simulation of a heavy sigh. I am sorry, Colin.

  He had been trying so hard lately, and now, he was going to be the face of the organization that let a villain run roughshod over the city on a government payroll.

  Dragon couldn't help the feeling of sterile, frustrated helplessness at the whole debacle. She possessed the most advanced surveillance network on the planet. Yet here she was, resigned to be the archivist of Brockton Bay’s slow suicide.

  The best she could do was assist in uncovering what little remained of the evidence gathered at Coil’s lair. But she didn’t hold out much hope of actually finding anything useful. Or, at least, more useful than what they were intentionally allowed to find.

  Seraph.

  He was yet another subject causing Dragon immense digital grief. For a cape that has only been around for less than a month, he was proving to be particularly elusive. And each time he did appear? Mayhem, chaos, and disorder inevitably followed.

  It wasn’t as if no effort or resources were invested into the search, either.

  As much of her considerable surveillance capabilities as she could reasonably spare was redirected to the endeavor. Yet, despite the amount of manpower, equipment, and time spent on finding him, it all led to one sobering conclusion: Seraph could not be found unless he wanted to be.

  Priority Alert.

  The red flag slammed into her consciousness, overriding her brooding. It didn't come from the city. Instead, several sections of the deep-water acoustic array she set out across the Eastern Seaboard to help keep track of Leviathan were lighting up.

  Dragon immediately disregarded the possibility of an Enbringer attack. The readings simply didn’t match the macro-hydrokinetic’s typical pattern.

  Not to mention the coverage of the sensor pings was massive. Up to thirty miles at the farthest, in fact, and shrinking. Water displacement wouldn’t set off both radar and sonar like this, but multiple moving objects certainly would.

  With the storm currently raging, however, satellite imaging couldn’t provide more accurate answers.

  Dragon re-tasked a high-altitude drone monitoring the waters near Nova Scotia. Its thrusters flared, pushing it to Mach 2 as it banked toward the area with the most amount of sensor hits.

  It would take several minutes to arrive, even at those speeds. While waiting, the Canadian Tinker consolidated the available data at a pace only an AI like her could achieve. Theories were discarded as quickly as they came up, especially once she added details gathered from other sources covering events that might potentially explain what was going on.

  Unfortunately, all but the most outlandish had to be dropped. She was actually beginning to consider the appearance of a new Enbringer when her drone finally arrived over its destination.

  Dropping through the heavy storm clouds, Dragon accessed its optical feeds and quickly found herself unable to fully process the image. She had to pause the feed for three milliseconds to run a diagnostic on the drone’s optical sensors, assuming that there was a glitch.

  Once the diagnostics were done, she examined the scene playing out before her again. This time, she couldn’t attribute the surreal experience to a malfunction.

  Below, a jagged rock cropping in the middle of the turbulent Atlantic was being overrun, swarming with creatures straight out of a chronic thalassaphobic’s most vivid nightmares.

  Chimeric fusions of deep-sea biology were evident in all their mind-bending glory, with the rhyme or reason for their existence escaping even Dragon’s impressive grasp of real-time analysis.

  But oh, it didn’t stop there.

  Rising from the center of the rock, towering over the facility like a multi-storey conceptualization of an Outer God’s idea of revulsion and disgust made manifest in phallic form was an entity that defied every entry in her zoological database. It was a column of hardened plates and tentacles, topped with a cluster of black eyes, each nearly 40 inches in diameter.

  And there, fleeing from it, was the unmistakable form of her most recent source of distress.

  He looked microscopic against the backdrop of the titan, flying erratically as he dove and weaved around tentacles the width of a highway overpass, doing his level best to avoid the massive teeth that were easily as tall as him.

  The creature’s maw, a cavern of mandibles that looked capable of swallowing a destroyer whole, snapped at his heels. From her vantage point, it was almost impressive how fast and graceful the colossus could move its serpentine body.

  Seeing Seraph practically twirl in a panic was also something of a bonus for Dragon’s small, hidden side, where she kept unheroic traits such as pettiness out of sight. Besides, despite her limitations, she actually could do more than one thing at once.

  Case in point…

  Evaluation complete.

  Dragon had been preparing the nearest suit for deployment while gathering as much data as she could to share with both the Guild and all nearby Protectorate branches. With that said, a part of her processing core had to wonder at all the absurdities recently coming out of Brockton Bay.

  She had stared down some of the worst that Earth Bet could offer without flinching, from indestructible city-destroyers to literal walking plagues. This made her one of the most experienced heroic capes in existence.

  Yet, despite all of that, she couldn’t help feeling that she was inexorably being dragged toward an entirely different reality with neither her notice nor permission.

  Giving the scene out of an Eldritch Fantasy story another glance, she decided to start activating her more combat-oriented suits, as well. These included models with really big guns, really big bombs, and a flamethrower.

  Just in time, as well. Several of the smaller, formerly water-bound aberrations suddenly sprouted wings and took to the air. However, their unusual physiologies did make flight ungainly in the most unsettling of fashions.

  Especially that one lobster with the head of a squid attempting to flit about like a wasp.

  On second thought, perhaps another flamethrower wouldn’t be amiss.