These include, but are not limited to:
- Gathering information from the PRT’s servers regarding their findings while the holes have yet to be patched (something that will eventually happen after Coil’s identity is revealed).
- Consolidating as much of the deceased villain’s assets as she could and spreading them out via a convoluted web of digital trails to cover her tracks.
- Keeping tabs on Calvert’s remaining pawns and contingencies that might activate with his death, which includes The Travelers.
- Getting a handle on the potential response of the other gangs once they inevitably learn about the new power vacuum, courtesy of the numerous leaks the PRT is known for.
- Trying to predict how the Undersiders’ association with Seraph will affect the future of the group’s dynamic and Brockton Bay, as a whole.
- Figuring out the people responsible for Taylor’s abduction and the impetus behind this whole sordid affair.
Suffice it to say, Lisa was not having a good time, and neither were her teammates. This was understandable as she blew off Brian’s concerns the moment she arrived to start working on the listed tasks, stressing how time-sensitive they were. Unfortunately, while normally level-headed, Grue is finding their change in circumstances more than a little stressful.
Understandable, considering who they’re now entangled with, as well as the consequences of the night’s activities and discoveries.
Unfortunately for Brian, he will simply have to wait. She simply couldn’t give him the reassurance he wanted, as things stood. Too many moving variables beyond her control made for shaky grounds.
And it was about to get worse.
Lisa had been wondering how quickly the PRT and the Protectorate would shore up their system’s vulnerabilities when the world was turned on its head. It happened when Armsmaster reported to Director Piggot’s office. Upon entering, the Tinker did something that immediately blocked all of Coil’s digital intrusions, thus preventing Lisa from eavesdropping.
Instead of risking discovery by persisting, she started cleaning up the intrusion points she used that might lead back to her. Before she could finish, however, alerts started pinging on every level of the PRT servers. Everyone was mobilized, both parahumans and regular agents.
The suddenness of the development caught Lisa off guard, causing her to freeze for several seconds before rallying in short order. After reading through the various notifications and what snippets of communications she could intercept, reality hit her in the face like an iron skillet swung with full force.
Dragon’s report was impressively comprehensive. A normally admirable trait that Lisa was cursing with every fiber of her being right that moment.
The image and video files were crisp. The analysis was spot-on. And the scope was beyond reproach.
Even so, it was difficult to reconcile what had been conveyed.
A mere 50 miles off the coast of Brockton Bay, where she was currently located, was the site of a battle between Gods and Titans. It was an ocean of writhing tentacles, razor-sharp claws, gnashing teeth, and undulating bodies. The air above the roiling waters was no better as clips showed impossible creatures scoring jagged patterns while in pursuit of a familiar figure.
How?
It had been less than an hour! The task couldn’t have been more straightforward. All Seraph had to do was rescue one girl trapped in an isolated facility in the middle of the ocean.
So, how did events devolve so spectacularly?
Lisa’s mind nearly jumped to wild conclusions involving ludicrous contingencies when her Thinker power kicked in, and she immediately groaned in frustration. Can those two never meet without setting off the apocalypse?
In some impossible, fucked up twist, Taylor can call on and control monsters of cosmic proportions. Like some sort of herald of forgotten deities buried in the depths of the human psyche.
Thankfully, unlike with Seraph, Lisa’s souped-up mental abilities still somewhat worked on the bug mistress. Glimpses of insight flowed over gulfs and valleys of missing information that painted enough of a picture to form rough guesses.
And the conclusions she came to were not at all encouraging.
Forcefully, pulling herself away from the spiralling maelstrom of chilling imagery that she couldn’t do anything about, Lisa shifted her focus to what response Dragon’s report generated. PRT branches all over the East Coast have been alerted, and hero teams, both Protectorate and Independent, are scrambling.
It would seem that the Canadian Tinker has already deployed one of her suits, with Guild members hot on her tail.
As far as she could tell, Seraph and Taylor’s spat had drawn the wrath of capes stretching from Montréal to Manhattan. Lisa gave even odds that Legend was coming, and he could drag Alexandria and Eidolon along, which could then lead to a drawn-out fight. One that would most likely result in devastating consequences.
The sudden shortness of breath finally brought Lisa’s attention to herself, at which point, other symptoms made themselves known. Cold sweat, clammy skin, shaking fingers, restricted airways, and lightheadedness.
Oh, great! She thought dimly. As if things weren’t bad enough, I’m now having a panic attack.
She needed to call for help, but her voice wouldn’t come out. In her state of agitation, Lisa surged to her feet, intending to reach for the door. Predictably, she stumbled and could already feel her face smashing into the hard floor.
This didn’t happen.
Instead, Lisa was suddenly engulfed in strong arms, steadying her flailing form. Rather than feel relieved, the girl’s anxiety only increased.
No one else was supposed to be in her room. The door was locked, and even in her distracted state, her power would have warned her if someone had entered. Moreover, she recognized absolutely nothing about the person who currently held her shoulders trapped in a tight grip.
Female, slim, dark hair, wearing a tailored suit and a white shirt with a black tie. All mundane points of observation, but every single detail filled her with indescribable dread for reasons she couldn’t seem to identify.
Then, as if prompted by an unseen force beyond her ability to resist, Lisa’s eyes went up to take in the full features of her assailant.
Pale skin, beautiful, with no obvious makeup.
And on her head was an item that came with implications she found impossible to parse, but still made her gut clench.
A fedora.
“Listen very carefully, Lisa Wilbourn,” she said in a melodious, distinctive voice. “If you do, you might just avoid becoming the world’s most wanted Thinker.”
Okay, I think it’s safe to say that things are now fucked beyond all reasonable hope of repair. Zipping through the stormy skies over the Atlantic, this was the distant thought that crawled out of the back of my mind.
Because, really…
How do we come back from this?
Taylor is currently wielding the unholy powers of the deep and dank, which by itself is already a major issue that no one would be able or willing to ignore. Whereas I was doing my best imitation of aerial ballet.
Making things worse is the uncertain fate of the very person I was here to rescue.
Was she somewhere in the collapsed and likely flooded underground facility? Did she get eaten by the gigantic, rampaging danger noodle? Judging by the persistent pursuit of her posse of puffed-up pests, she should still be alive.
So, there’s that, at least.
Speaking of which…
“Would you stop trying to eat me?!” I screamed after narrowly dodging mandibles with protruding suckers that ended with a gaping, slimy beak.
That was a flying cuttlefish, by the way.
A flying cuttlefish the size of a sedan, sporting two pairs of forewings and hindwings like those of a beetle. It was a violation of the laws of physics, a crime against nature, and a trampling of common sense all rolled into one revolting package, but there you go.
I had more important things to worry about, like the high-tech drone making no effort to hide, hovering about a mile away. No need to guess who it belonged to. This corner of the ocean is about to get more crowded than it already was, which only added to my growing frustration.
Why does it feel like I’ve been running against the clock for the past day? None of this should’ve happened! Taylor wasn’t supposed to gain this much attention. Heck, I wasn’t supposed to get this much attention. It’s too soon.
There was supposed to be enough time to prepare for the bigger threats. Clean up Brockton Bay first, then focus on the dangers beyond. That was the plan.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Yet, it seems like the whole of Bet was intent on keeping me occupied with ever-escalating bullshit!
And now, I’m once again pitted against Taylor, who was supposed to be my closest ally just as I was supposed to be hers. This absolutely reeks of Cauldron’s meddling. Such an elaborate series of events that would lead to such a stupidly improbable destination couldn’t be possible without Path to Victory.
I simply refuse to believe it could be anything else.
Swerving around a tentacle that could crush a full-grown redwood, my mind frantically raced for solutions.
What am I supposed to do here?
Attacking could irrevocably make me Taylor’s enemy. Calling out to her would be reckless with a Tinkertech drone so close, considering I couldn’t use her name. But continuing as I have been is just wasting time. Once the heroes arrive, we’d both be surrounded and I’d have to fight once more, which was the last thing I wanted.
Running away wasn’t an option, either, since it would mean abandoning someone who already has trust issues. So, in what has quickly become a pattern since my arrival, I’m faced with only bad choices.
How has it come to this?
Making matters worse, even Blue is straining against her draconic instincts. The calmest Dragoon Spirit in my arsenal does have limits. Having aquatic abominations snapping at our heels isn’t helping matters, either. Nevermind the far more aggressive Darkness, Red, and Violet.
My rioting thoughts eventually cost me when I was bodyslammed from above, a fraction of a second after dodging two other creatures from my right and from below. Immediately capitalizing on the opportunity, my pursuers started dogpiling me mid-air from all directions. Such a show of tactics reminded me just who I was facing.
Taylor Hebert earned a reputation for using unconventional methods to defeat her enemies, especially those who underestimated her. And like a massive idiot, I’d somehow done the same. Despite knowing exactly who she was, I got caught up in my own hubris.
Fortunately, none of the fangs, claws, and stingers assaulting me could penetrate Blue’s armor. Then again, they didn’t really need to.
They just had to keep me in place long enough for a mountainous tail to finish its arc and splatter me with sheer mass and velocity. You know, like the one I could see through the gaps between scales and rubbery flesh swinging down from above.
It’s at this point that an odd sense of peace washed over my mind.
For a while now, I’ve let my doubts, fear, and paranoia dictate my actions. Granted, I did make a lot of mistakes. Caused pain, regardless of my intentions. Hence, my resolve to do better. And for a while, it worked.
With the incident involving Oni Lee being the exception, the last few days had gone quite well. I brought down gang members with just my bare hands, avoided causing widespread death and destruction, and successfully created an alter ego that didn’t immediately trigger alarm among the general public.
But then Taylor got kidnapped, which was arranged by Cauldron in a ridiculous effort to gain my attention, and now I’m about to be pancaked in a Kaiju fight.
Regardless of my desire to remain on Taylor’s good side. To be a friend, instead of an enemy. An ally who would always have her back. My tolerance wasn’t unlimited.
I wasn’t here to be pushed around.
To that end, a brief mental conversation with Blue about not hurting Taylor, wherever she might be, was all it took to let the Dragoon Spirit off the leash and…
…we were promptly interrupted by a field of violet-blue crystalline energy intercepting the descending limb. The collision exploded with a concussive wave of kinetic energy and sound upon impact. The transparent shield was shattered, but the tail was diverted enough to miss me entirely, splashing into the waters below.
Then, out of the gloom, a figure enshrouded in layers of crystalline scales floated into view. Standing on a platform made out of her own shield was Narwhal, leader of the Guild, and one of the most renowned heroes in the world.
Yet, very little of that registered in my mind.
Instead, I could only lament that my moment of manly determination and masculine resolution fizzled out like a fart in the wind.
A full Dragonflight was a rare sight outside of Endbringer battles, and yet this new, steaming pile of parahuman shenanigans merited their appearance. Cawthorne, Astaroth-Nidhug, Glaurung, and Ladon all flew over the monster-infested waters, unloading their ordnance in an attempt to thin out the herd, as it were.
Dragon really couldn’t afford to hold back, as it would mean risking coastal cities and communities.
While she was busy with the smaller creatures, often delegating their eradication via sub-routines where necessary, the rest of the Guild’s roster focused on the big one. Though it’s worth noting that only Narwhal could contribute in any meaningful way, owing to the lack of solid surfaces to fight on.
As it was, they mostly stayed inside her unnamed flight crafts, where they could use the onboard controls to fire lasers and missiles. Not much, but every little bit helped, considering her sensors detected nearly 300 lifesigns of unusual size within the perimeter.
But even with so many things taking up her attention, Dragon was still able to devote some processing power to try and analyze the strange elements of this incident. Namely: Seraph.
The whole time she observed his actions via the surveillance drone, not once did he attempt to fight back. In fact, he seemed to be doing his best to avoid inflicting harm on the creatures. His avoidance eventually culminated in his brief capture, forcing Narwhal to act.
Which begs the question of why.
A parahuman of his demonstrated power should have eviscerated anything that came within reach. This was a pattern that held even amongst capes known for having substantial self-control.
But not him.
Investing several microseconds yielded a few possible explanations, none of which were encouraging, given the Guild’s set of priorities. His presence over what records indicate was an abandoned government facility, his reluctance to engage with deadly force, and his lingering despite the presence of elite heroes known for taking in dangerous criminals.
All of it pointed to something or someone connected to the colossi that Dragon and her team were doing their best to eradicate. Whoever or whatever they were, Seraph deemed them important enough to risk bodily injury instead of engaging in self-defense.
Was this whole thing the result of an accident? A trigger gone wrong? An experiment that got out of hand? A trap?
Observing the man in question, he was still inside the mass of grotesques. It reminded Dragon of how certain species of bees would use thermoballing to kill attacking hornets. An unusual behavior for the various mollusks, crustaceans, and cephalopods making up the biological cage, to be sure.
According to her scans, he was still alive and gave no indication of distress. Impressive, considering most would have given in to hysteria in his situation.
A situation that gained more and more perplexing peculiarities with every passing second, chief of which is the lack of aggression toward Narhwal and Dragon’s aircraft. With how thoroughly they were exterminating the potentially bio-Tinkered creations, a proportional response should have already appeared, at the very least.
Yet, Seraph seemed to be the only target of note for the force behind the creatures.
Case in point, Narwhal has had to deflect blows from the building-sized entity, temporarily code-named Tiamat, several times. Each strike was aimed at the winged parahuman who still, for some reason, hasn’t escaped his imprisonment.
On the one hand, this was to the heroes’ advantage as they could focus on eliminating the threats and only defending one person. On the other hand, this presented a complication that implied details they had yet to identify and comprehend.
“Dragon!” came Narwhal’s voice over the comms. “I need you to run a deeper scan on Tiamat. There has to be a reason why it’s only targeting Seraph.”
After a brief pause of self-recrimination for not having thought to do so on her own, Dragon complied. Initial scans only found expected, though atypical, physiological signs. Endoskeleton, flesh, and extremities that belonged to various sea-dwelling species that had no business being on Tiamat.
Pushing her equipment to look deeper, she finally penetrated several tons of meat to acquire a faint heat signature in the center of the titan. Right where the heart should be.
This immediately put Dragon on high alert and dedicated even more of her processing power to analyze her findings, leaving the operation of her suits to sub-routines. In a matter of milliseconds, she finally came to a startling conclusion.
“There’s someone inside Tiamat,” she declared over the line, prompting exclamations of surprise among those listening in. “I’m not getting anything other than a heat signature, but it’s definitely consistent with human bio-signs.”
“Are we dealing with a Changer or Bio-Striker?” Glyph asked.
“Too soon to tell,” Dragon answered. “Seraph’s actions, so far, indicate that something else is going on. For all we know, they could have been a victim of a Wet Tinker and Seraph was trying to rescue them.”
“That doesn’t explain the creatures’ atypical behavior,” Narwhal noted while intercepting yet another strike from Tiamat. “They are inordinately focused on Seraph and ignoring us. We might have jumped the gun, here.”
Dragon couldn’t help but agree, yet protocol demanded swift action against anything even resembling parahuman creations capable of self-replication. After coming out of nowhere and numbering in the hundreds, the creatures simply presented too much of a risk.
“Maybe the person trapped is a hostage,” Wieldmaiden’s voice suggested, “and used as bait to draw out Seraph. These things might be under the control of someone else.”
“But why ignore us?” Glyph cut in. “If this was a trap meant for Seraph, whoever’s behind it should’ve known that it would attract the PRT, the Protectorate, and the Guild. Using giant monsters to kill just one cape? This is prime Kill Order material. An indiscriminate attack would make more sense if they’ve given up all pretense of subtlety.”
At this point, the team had shifted to keeping the monsters away from Seraph instead of shooting them down at random.
“That’s enough,” Narwhal ordered. “We don’t know enough about what’s going on and until we do, we act accordingly. Dragon, what’s Seraph’s status?”
“He seems to be doing well,” Dragon replied after checking her scans again. “He doesn’t seem to be in any danger, despite the circumstances. No damage of note, proving his high Brute ratings. He’s just letting himself be encased for some reason.”
“Then we shift priorities. Tiamat is regenerating too fast for me to move from my position without leaving Seraph vulnerable. Do you have anything that could safely cut through its flesh? We need to retrieve whoever’s trapped inside.”
A quick review of footage capturing Narwhal’s counterstrikes against the various limbs attacking Seraph showed a remarkable healing factor. Cuts, meters deep, closed in seconds. Whatever appendages the Guild leader managed to sever grew back just as quickly. This, in addition to the storm and the high amounts of moisture in Tiamat’s body, Dragon concluded that she simply did not have the firepower to accomplish the task.
Upon relaying this to the team, various curses sounded out.
“We can’t keep going like this!” Stonewall spoke up for the first time. “How long until backup gets here?”
As if waiting for someone to ask this exact question, Dragon detected fast-moving objects approaching their position from the air. One of which was moving much faster than the rest. Several heartbeats later, the shape of Legend dropped in from the stormclouds.
“Everyone, sorry for the delay,” he said by way of greeting. “The weather made travel quite difficult.”
“It’s good to see you, Legend.” Dragon’s voice might be artificial, but the relief in it certainly wasn’t.
“The feeling’s mutual, Dragon. What’s the situation?”
She explained everything that had happened, so far, including their shift in priorities regarding whoever was trapped within Tiamat.
“I see.” The visible parts of the hero’s face scrunched into a frown. “I take it you need me to cut them out?”
“Yes, please.”
Without another word, Legend flew toward Tiamat at speed. Like with everyone else, with the exception of Seraph, he was ignored.
Right until he was in front of the titanic serpent and held out a glowing hand.
Two things happened simultaneously.
First, Tiamat cast its gaze on Legend as he held out a glowing hand.
Second, Narwhal called out a sudden change with Seraph.
Dragon was only just able to train a camera on the winged parahuman’s position before the world went dark.
Taylor Hebert had always known that the mind was a complex machine, but she had never truly appreciated how fragile it was. The hospital stay following the locker incident did leave an impression of how easily the brain could just shut down. Learning to control her powers also gave her a decent idea of how far she can push her mental faculties.
With that said, nothing could have prepared her for the tidal wave of information currently assaulting her psyche.
It was as if the whole world had become a Euclidean puzzle intended for beings existing beyond the four dimensions that humans inhabited. Corridors that looped into themselves. Tunnels that went on forever, yet also ended right where they started.
Doors that occupied the same space in three separate states of closed, shut, and halfway in-between were practically shoved into her face – even as they were so far away that she could barely see them.
All of it escaped her comprehension, but she was still forced to suffer the show. Making matters worse was her dim awareness of events going on outside of her incoherent state.
At one point, Taylor saw the unmistakable figure of Seraph after escaping her cell, the process of which she refused to acknowledge at that moment. It was such an unexpected sight, immediately following her new accommodations, that it instantly drew a visceral reaction, which caused things to get even more out of control.
She was pushed to the back of her mind, and her last, subconscious thought gained primacy. Being a spectator to actions not entirely her own would have been bad enough. Getting treated to visions that seemed to bend space and time only added to an already mountainous pile of misery.
The strain on her mental faculties was such that Taylor was forced to ignore the implications of her new minions in favor of trying to stay sane: a task that the constant bombardment of flashing lights and nausea-inducing panoramas made practically Sisyphean.
At least, this was the case until Dragon and the woman whom Taylor recognized as Narwhal arrived.
A surge of fear momentarily allowed her to regain control, but she was only able to give instructions about not hurting the heroes before she was yanked right back. This resulted in the frustrating limbo where Seraph was still being attacked, but Taylor couldn’t make the new creatures do anything else, including asking for help.
The situation was beginning to feel hopeless when the universe decided to really put the screws to its favorite punching bag.
Legend, one of the world’s greatest heroes and an immensely powerful Blaster, was here. Taylor didn’t even notice his arrival. One moment, her immediate vicinity was empty, and the next, it was occupied by a cape reportedly capable of levelling entire blocks with one attack.
Taylor watched the Cape raise his hand almost in slow motion and point it right where she was being kept. It was then that everything crystallized in her mind.
Of course, he was here to kill her.
The monsters were hers. As much as she tried to shy away from that fact, reality couldn’t be denied.
She called them. They answered. And now, she needs to die.
Taylor didn’t want to die, though. She still didn’t know if her dad was alive or not. Lisa had been shot. Had she already gone to the hospital? Did she escape Coil?
She was finally making a difference as a hero, too.
She finally mattered.
Is this really where it ends?
Without her noticing, the dizzying arrays of images and vistas had long frozen in place. What seemed like a cavernous abyss stretching out for eternity had contracted to a shell, inches away from her skin.
Unheard screams of terror and whispered pleas hushed, turning a churning ocean of the damned into a tranquil lake.
Taylor Hebert didn’t even need to give the command.
Her task was done.
The bridge had been formed.
And something started crossing over.