Chapter 1208 - 20

Thursday 27th January 2011

Thursday brought with it a question: Did I want a dragon?

The answer to that question was pretty complicated, with a strong element of, 'Of course I want a dragon! If I'd had a dragon the last two years of torment from Emma wouldn't have happened!'. The question did, however, trigger a second question: 'Can I feed a dragon?', and that wasn't as clear cut.

I regretfully let my new Scheme, the delightfully-named Look Skyward and Despair, pass by without activating it.

My Power-selected card was great, as always. Thunder Lasso, for two and a white, was an equipment that would give me +1/+1 and the ability to tap a creature when I attack. It looked more like an electrified whip on the drawing than a lasso, but I wasn't going to argue; I just summoned and equipped it.

School was going normally, but then I got called the Principal's office.

Acting Principal Evans wasn't my biggest fan, and he actually seemed a little nervous about me. He gave a long, rambling talk about 'complaints', 'concerns', and 'suspicious activities' that made it sound like he really wanted to blame me for everything since the death of New Wave's Fleur. When I interrupted his waffle to ask what the purpose of the meeting was, he flinched. And said something vague about 'pushing certain unwritten rules' and that Winslow High would not tolerate bullying--

I laughed in his face at that. I laughed long, I laughed loud. It may have even been slightly hysterical. He wanted to get angry at the disrespect, but he was definitely scared of me and was mostly eyeing the door and how I was between him and it. Once I recovered from my amusement enough to talk, I told him of three separate bullying incidents that I'd seen that morning, and of what exactly Sophia was doing the last day she was at school. I told him that I had an apology letter from the PRT that explicitly stated that I had been bullied by Sophia and that Winslow High had evidently been very tolerant of it indeed.

He gave me a detention for disrespect. I asked him if he was going to put everyone wearing gang colours in detention for 'disrespect' as well and he threatened to make it a double-detention. I offered to sue Winslow High for everything that had happened, and he got very red in the face.

The farce of a meeting had gone on long enough, and I asked him again what the point of it was, and he explained my presence was 'disruptive to the learning environment' and suggested that maybe I should consider other academic options, and that the school board had contacts and would be happy to help facilitate such decisions if I was to make them.

I walked out at that point. He didn't call me back.

I didn't bother with detention.

I didn't want to go to Arcadia High, because I didn't want the bullies to win. That principle is what kept me going throughout Emma's hate campaign. I just didn't want hate to win. But, well, students were afraid of me. Quite a few of them had good reason to be, considering what they'd done to me before I became a cape. And I didn't like that I liked how afraid they looked when I glared at them. And it wasn't just the bullies who were afraid. And if people were scared of me and I stayed when I could leave for a better environment just to force them to live with me, did that make me a bully as well as an idiot?

Don't answer that question, I already know the answer.

Some of the football team were tossing a ball around near the front entrance of the school, after we'd been let out. One of them missed a catch, and the ball went flying towards me. I caught it one-handed, angrily, instinctively. My instincts were four weeks out of date. The ball popped with a bang that had heads turning and people flinching for hundreds of yards.

I looked at the deflated football in my hands, at the staring people, who looked away when they saw me looking at them, at the frightened jocks. I snarled and (gently) threw the rubber remains in a bin and stalked away. Everyone gave me a lot of distance.

I wanted to punch things, but I didn't really have that option any more. Instead I donned my costume, flew into the sky, and did some breathing exercises.

I didn't have much time for self-indulgence, though, so once I was no longer in a 'I should summon a few golems so that I can destroy them' mood, I flew back home. I summoned the Darksteel Plate and equipped it. If people were going to be scared of me, I might as well lean into it. It seemed as though I had a talent for intimidation, after all.

I felt a little ridiculous standing in front of the mirror in full Black Knight cosplay. The armour wasn't heavy, at least for me, and I could move far more freely than I expected. There was no clinking clanking noises, and I felt very safe. Thanks to the bullshit of my Power, I retained the benefits of all my gear, no matter which set I was wearing. I decided to have two different sets in my mind -- the Robe of Stars, the Mask of Law and Grace, and the Vectis Gloves as one set, and the Darksteel Plate and Thunder Lasso for the other.

I could probably set up a second identity if I wanted to...

Something to think about later.

"Hey, Dad," I said, "Was the apology from the PRT legitimate? Was the offer reasonable?"

"Hello, Taylor. Yes, the apology appears to be sincere, and the compensation offer is generous, as far as money for trauma is concerned anyway."

"Fine. In that case, I'm moving to Arcadia High. Could you please talk to them? The Acting Principal of Winslow High will be very on board with the move. Oh, and everyone at school now knows for certain that I am a cape."

"What happened?"

"I caught a surprise football. It didn't survive the experience."

"Gotcha. Do I need to worry about angry parents, peasants with pitchforks, or PRT emergency response teams?"

I glared at my father. He wasn't intimidated. "No, my only victim was a football. If they're going to complain about that then I'll give them ten bucks and tell them to be more careful where they're playing."

I had the time and didn't want to attract too much attention to Chez Hebert, so I took the Bootleggers' Stash tunnels past a patrolling scarecrow through to the Gold-Forge Garrison and out at the Wild Triome tunnel. And then back to the Gold-Forge Garrison.

It was there. The Stash's tunnel opened up to a long, tall, wide arched hallway laid out as an assembly line for war golems. The marble floor was shiny, the walls decorated in a steampunk Mesoamerican style, heavy with the gold and ominous lighting. The shells of dozens of golems stood in a queue in increasing states of assembly, with the last one looking entirely complete and only missing the gold and power that was needed to energise it.

This was a land. Not just a concept, this was the actual land from the card's image made real. I'd made a land. I'd made an assembly line for golems. I'd been completely out of it when I'd had to play the Garrison after defeating the Golden Guardian, overwhelmed by the deluge of life points, but I'd thrown it at the Stash, and it landed. I brushed a hand over one of the golem shells, and it was real. How the heck did that happen?

I looked around. The Garrison was neat and tidy, free from tools and mess. I hated to do it, but I walked up to one of the walls and punched it, breaking a tile. I picked up the shattered piece of tile and carried it outside to the Triome. It was still a piece of tile in my hand, with plaster on one side.

"Holy shit!" I whispered. This changed everything.

Then I realised that I was running late. I threw the tile into the river and leapt into the air. Flying high in my 'Robe of Stars' outfit, I headed out towards a building close the the PRT Headquarters (and also the Empire's territory).

It was a flat-roofed building, and the door on the roof was open. I flew in, down the stairs, and found Miss Militia waiting for me at a desk covered in military gear on a mezzanine floor. It was a pretty interesting building on the inside: a wide open factory space had been filled with temporary walls to make a series of connected rooms without any roof. There were walkways from the mezzanine floor that looked down on the fake rooms below. This was a training area for urban combat. Neat.

"Walker, thank you for coming. We've discussed your offer, and we'd like to work with you. Hookwolf's transport to the Birdcage is tomorrow evening. The people who are driving Hookwolf to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center do not know that you will be part of their protection detail, so we're hoping that it will be a surprise for the Empire if they do intercept. If we do this, you need to agree to our rules of engagement, and that means non-lethal and no brutality. Can you do that?"

"Thank you, Miss Militia, and yes, I can do that."

"Good. Firstly, let's get you familiar with your equipment." She waved a hands at the desk, "You're an untrained high level brute, so we want to minimize your physical contact with our opponents. That means tinkertech taser rifles, containment foam grenades, and pepper spray. Let's get started."

Miss Militia showed me how to use the rifle (it could fire six shots before being completely discharged, but it needed about twenty seconds between shots to recharge). It was easy to use, but had a limited range -- I wasn't going to be sniping anyone with this thing.

"This will knock people out, yes?" I asked.

Miss Militia snorted, "A common misconception. The taser will pass a powerful electric current through a person, generating intense localised pain and muscle damage. Most people won't be interested in fighting after that. It is a less-lethal method of temporarily incapacitating someone."

The taser rifle was fine. The containment foam grenades represented another problem. They were impact triggered, with a generous area of effect, but I was limited in how I was permitted to use them. My aim was fine, but when Miss Militia shouted--

"Behind you! Now!"

I spun, threw my dummy grenade at a wooden cutout of a soldier, and rather than hit the ground at his feet, it went clear through its leg at the hip, the plasterboard wall behind it, and didn't stop until it hit the cinder block backstop at the back of the warehouse.

"Under-arm tosses only, Walker," said Miss Militia after inspecting the damage. Being powerful was a problem.

"Now, let's talk about armour," said Miss Militia, "Your face mask is very impressive, but if we don't want people to know that you're there, you're going to need this." She tapped at a full-face helmet / gas mask.

"Uh, I have a different option, now," I said.

"Let's see it."

I switched from the Robe of Stars getup to the Darksteel Plate. Miss Militia took a cautious step backwards in surprise as she took in the overall effect. "Not bad. Intimidating. A bit too shiny for real stealth, but it'll do for this job. What's that at your hip?"

"Uh, it's called a 'Thunder Lasso'. It should be another non-lethal option for me, once a day."

"Uh-huh," said Miss Militia doubtfully. "Hold on."

She went to a corner of the room that was used for storage and pulled out a mannequin. She placed it in front of me and then took several long paces back. And then a few more. "Right," she called out, "Subdue that enemy agent."

Equipping something gave me a basic understanding on how to use it, thankfully. I pulled out the lasso and threw the hoop at the mannequin, pulling it tight as it fell, trapping the mannequin's arms. I could see a tracery of lightning arcing all over the mannequin's body.

"Nice," said Miss Militia, "Now bring the mannequin down by yanking the lasso."

The mannequin exploded as the lasso tore through its body.

"That's a 'no' for the lasso, Walker," said Miss Militia, "Maybe with time, when you're in better control of your strength. I don't want a surprise to make you bisect some poor thug."

I couldn't argue with that, I was too busy dusting myself off with the shattered remains of my target.

The tinkertech headsets were cool. Miss Militia said that she'd be using a throat mike for comms, but she was worried it would brush against my armour's gorget. There was room in the helmet for a headset, though, so we went with that. It didn't take long to go through how they worked, and how the Protectorate used them.

We spent an hour going through the various Empire Eighty-Eight parahumans and potential agents. The presence of Stormtiger and Cricket were a given, if the Empire did intercept, but we could also expect capes like Rune, Crusader, Victor, and Alabaster. Possibly Krieg as well. We discussed their abilities and how to counter them. I surveyed my notes:

Rune -- Young woman in black and red robe -- telekinetic, but takes time to connect with objects. High weight capacity, moderate speed. Limited to two (or possibly three) items at once. Fond of floating weapon platforms.

Crusader -- man in medieval armour complete with long spear -- can create ghostly copies of himself, including equipment, that can pass through matter and interact with the living. They can carry him in the air, giving him limited flight. Limited control.

Victor -- Unremarkable man, probably wearing black and red military uniform -- skill thief. Should be considered at least 'competent', possibly 'masterful' at anything he does. Don't spend too long making eye contact.

Alabaster -- very white (hair, skin, costume, eyes, etc.) -- His body will 'reset' every four seconds, irrespective of any damage it might have received (including death).

Fenja and Menja -- young women wearing Valkyrie armour, can become thirty-five feet tall, tough, and strong.

Krieg -- will be wearing military uniform and a gasmask -- short-range kinetic damper for other people, and amplifier for himself. Anyone getting close to him will experience breathing difficulties.

I wasn't too worried as I scanned the list. "Not Kaiser?" I asked.

"Not for something like this. Too much risk of him being captured or exposed."

"And Purity?"

"She's broken away from the Empire. We don't know the details, but she isn't being seen at Empire cape gatherings. If she does show, protect yourself. We want a non-lethal fight, but if you believe your life, or that of PRT Agents, is in immediate danger, you are authorised to use necessary force. That doesn't mean 'punch her head off', but you may engage physically, and tools like your lasso are on the cards."

"Noted."

"Do you have any questions?" asked Miss Militia finally.

"Not a question, but I thought I'd better let you know: I'll be taking you up on that offer of a transfer to Arcadia High. You may have heard what happened at Winslow today."

Miss Militia eye's narrowed. "Walker, please be careful about what you say. The PRT respects the unwritten rules, but you all but outed yourself to me just then."

I took off my helm so that she could see my glare. And my face. "Please, I outed myself when that football exploded. Not that the rumours going around hadn't done the damage already. How do Brutes manage it?"

Miss Militia sighed, "Usually pretty badly, Taylor. But they generally have better control of their strength by now. You've had your strength for what, three and a half weeks?"

I shrugged. "My strength isn't constant. I keep getting stronger, and it's hard to keep adjusting."

"Is that going to continue?" she asked cautiously.

"Looks like it," I said with a shrug, "I boosted it some for the Hookwolf fight, but even if I don't deliberately do stuff to boost it, just getting new equipment often ups it a little. The lasso, for example."

"Wow, and you're this strong after less than a month?"

"I could be a lot stronger if I wanted. Anyway, I'll try to avoid boosting my strength more." I paused. "Until the next Endbringer fight, anyway. I don't want to let the side down there by being too weak."

"Walker, be careful, please."

I could only shrug, "I'll try. Oh, and I spoke with my Dad about the Hookwolf bounty?"

"Yes?"

"I'll take it on a Number Man card, please."

Miss Militia nodded. "I'll have it waiting for you tomorrow evening."

We agreed on when and where I would be tomorrow night, and then I flew home. I didn't bother trying to hide my route -- the PRT knew where I lived.

I did some basic maths on the way. The lasso had cost two mana to summon and equip, the Darksteel Plate cost five, three to summon, two to equip. I had twenty-one mana per day, through lands and mana rocks. That meant that I had fourteen mana left if I wanted to remain in budget. I finally had the free mana to Escalate!!!. My Escalation cost nine mana, leaving me with five to play with. I could leave that mana as treasure, or... I could give one of my summons a +1/+1 token.

I was trying to decide who needed it most when I thought to check the text describing my ability. It didn't say, 'target creature you control', it just said, 'target creature'. Well, that changed things.

I am young. I make mistakes. I don't think things through sometimes when a really good idea hits me. That's my excuse for why I woke my Dad up twenty minutes to midnight, dressed in menacing black armour that he hadn't seen before.

It wasn't a good excuse, and I felt very guilty when I saw the state of his fist after he punched my helmet.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry," I kept going as Dad ran a tap of cold water over his hand.

I could tell he was angry, but he was better at controlling his anger than I was. "Taylor, please be quiet."

I shut up.

Once we had both calmed down, the story came out. Dad was annoyed, but accepted that I'd forgotten to show him the Darksteel Plate. When I explained why I had woken him he had gotten more serious. He didn't have too long to think -- midnight was approaching -- but a single +1/+1 counter for him wasn't going to be anywhere near as bad as my situation.

He agreed, accepted the counter with thanks, took some Tylenol for his hand and went to bed.

I rushed to my own room with minutes to spare and Escalate(!!!)d.

Zihao Ren put his head in his hands in despair. He had for a week been searching for a cape worthy to take over the leadership of the ABB. With the ever-present threat of the Empire finding out about Lung's demise, he'd investigated every possible candidate in the United States and several places beyond. All for nothing. There were capes who were strong enough, but their Asian ancestry was in doubt, or they were too deeply entrenched in their own domains, or were already suborned by the cursed CUI. Other capes that were otherwise suitable were too weak or too hesitant to hold back the Empire.

The Oni had outright refused to talk about it, and Ren feared for his life if he broached the topic with Lee again.

Ren worked hard, and worked fast. He had reached the conclusion that he would not find someone two days ago. The last two days he had swallowed his greed and pursued a different path. If he could not find a cape suitable to lead the ABB, he would make one.

The ABB had many contacts. They hadn't needed services like this before, but he knew that it was possible. He also knew that a top flight power would be very expensive, expensive enough to put a sizeable dent in the ABB's finances. And even one powerful cape would likely be insufficient for their needs; the ABB would need at least two to counter the loss of Lung. The Bad Boys would need to put considerable pressure on their clients to recoup the cost, but they had no other option.

Thankfully, there were candidates for the 'vials' that he had heard of. A few members of the ABB had the right attitude, intelligence, and wisdom to take the leadership role, and Ren would happily bow to them. He knew his place, behind the throne.

It had taken some time talking to distant business partners and contacts, but he finally had the number for Cauldron.

Ren had notepad and pen in front of him. He had a spreadsheet of the ABB's finances. He had a list he had workshopped with the other members of the council of the Powers that they would consider. He was ready. Ren centred himself, picked up the phone and dialed.

The phone rang several times, and then went to an answerphone. "Dear valued customer, you have reached Cauldron. We are happy to inform you that due to anticipated events, we are closed for business. We wish you every luck in your future endeavours, and thank you for your custom which enable us to reach this point. Goodbye."

Ren swore.

Spoiler

Author's Note:

Sorry about the delay in posting this. Calculating the end of turn summary gets complicated with later chapters. I lost track of time.

Friday 28th January 2011

I was amused at how my system worked. Escalating would knock me out for the rest of the day, but the system didn't care if that 'rest of the day' was twenty three hours or five minutes. It still woke me up for the usual daily clean-up.

For my free Artificer level 3 artefact, I decided to copy Alpha-Six, the Shield-Wall Sentinel. I put Alpha-Five down in the basement, to protect the house along with the first Scarecrow. I had better protection golems, but I picked the Shield-Wall Sentinel for a very special reason: when he entered the battlefield, he would allow me to pick a card from my library with 'Defender', and I already knew the card I wanted - Grozoth. Stage two of my cunning plan was complete.

Grozoth was a nine-mana 9/9 leviathan with Defender. Based on its picture it was half sea-monster, half eldritch horror, and probably very hungry. Looking after him would be a chore, but I had a plan for that. The reason I picked him, though, was that when he entered the battlefield, he would allow me to get all the cards from my library with a casting-cost of nine mana. I wanted those cards. I just needed to stop Grozoth from being a problem once he was summoned; I had no desire to be accused of being a biotinker. As I say, I have a plan for that, but it might take some time.

My Scheme was a fun one -- Your Nightmares Are Delicious. It would cause my opponents to discard cards, and if not enough cards were discarded then I would draw three cards. I admit to having been tempted, but I didn't want to cause my allies and enemies nightmares, even if they didn't do any other harm. Slippery slopes were slippery, you know? Plus if it ever came out that I caused them, I'd probably get accused of assault with a parahuman ability. I didn't activate it.

My Power-selected card looked to be as handy as always -- Fighter Class. Just like my Artificer Class, it would give me knowledge and abilities, unlocking more as I put more mana into it. The text implied that it wasn't going to be as busted as Artificer was though.

'Fighter Class' -- cast for one red and one white. When this Class enters, search your library for an Equipment card, reveal it, put it into your hand, then shuffle. For one generic, one red, and one white, unlock Level 2: Equip abilities you activate cost two less generic mana to activate. For three generic, one red, and one white, I would unlock Level 3: Whenever a creature you control attacks, up to one target creature blocks it this combat if able.

The actual effects were not astounding, but the promise of combat knowledge that included, hopefully, knowledge of unarmed combat and non-lethal options, was enough for me to cast it straight off the bat.

The memories of another life flooded into me. Weapon skills, training drills, practice sparring with human and non-human adversaries. Weak points which could be attacked for massive damage. Weak points for many creatures, including, amusingly, giant enemy crabs (more than just eyestalks and joints, for the record, and if you can poke through its shell, I knew were it would keep its brain). It wasn't enough to make me an expert fighter by any stretch, but I'd be better in a brawl than I had been before, and it did include a few tips for taking people down without killing them.

I would have upgraded to level 2 then and there, except for a few things: one, the flood of knowledge had taken hours to process and breakfast time was fast approaching, two, I wanted to save as much mana as possible for the night, and three, I still needed to look at what Escalating did to me, and four, I still needed to select that item of equipment the first level of the Class gave me.

There were a lot of equipment cards. Hundreds. Several hundred. In all sorts of forms, and I had no idea what I wanted or needed.

Okay, so a lot of the equipment options were weapons. One, the Machinist's Arsenal, gave +2/+2 for every artefact that the player controlled. With my pile of treasure, that would put my power above two hundred. Considering how much trouble I was having with power twelve, it didn't bear thinking about. As flight speed seems to be proportional to power, I'd probably set the sky on fire if I tried to fly. Which still wouldn't be as bad as what would happen if I attacked a player with Worldslayer equipped.

Seriously, what was wrong with planeswalkers that this is an option?!

There were some other items I didn't need but kinda wanted. One was Auxiliary Boosters, which created a robot, and then gave that robot another robot that would let the first robot fly. It was 'an intelligent jetpack for those that find themselves lost in space', according to the flavour text. I mean, I had no use for them at present, but it'd be an awesome present for Prakash, Dragon, or even Kid Win.

Overall, I spent a good hour reviewing my options, and came to the following conclusion: most equipment I could summon were weapons. Lots and lots of weapons. I really didn't need a damage multiplier right now, so they were out. Of the rest of the items, most were useless to me -- I could already fly, I could already trample, I was already very resistant to damage, and so on. I'd hit the point of diminishing returns.

The options I had left could be divided into a few categories: heinous items that allowed me to Master other people (or replace people with doppelgangers that I would control), a few items that would shore up my few remaining weak spots (non-damaging abilities from white, blue, or green affinities, mostly), shiny toys (robotic jetpack, a wrist-mounted computer, that sort of thing), utility wear (stuff that would double up +1/+1 counters I might summon, for example), and...

Pre-War Formalwear. Which would return someone with mana cost three or below (like Yuriko) from the graveyard to the battlefield. I had no idea how that was supposed to work, but the person in the image looked suspiciously zombie-like. I almost took that option, to be honest, but, well, Yuriko didn't want me to call her back until the Empire mess was sorted out, and I could ask my Power for a nicer card once that was all done.

I decided to focus on surviving until then, not that I was in any great danger, but eh. I didn't really need any equipment, but I did need to make a decision.

Swiftfoot Boots. They could be summoned for two mana and equipped for one. They would grant Haste (which I did not need) and Hexproof, which made it impossible for enemies to target me with spells or abilities. Area of effect abilities would work fine, but this would block Thinkers from reading me with their power, precogs from anticipating me, or Masters from controlling me. I hoped.

I summoned and equipped them (purple leather boots with gold-coloured toe-caps? Good job they'd be hidden by the Robe of Stars most of the time).

I then finally looked at the impact the white affinity Escalate!!! had on me. Okay, nine mana was expensive, but it certainly delivered the goods. I had gained Lifelink (I'd gain life when I hurt people), an ability that read 'Other creatures you control gain +1/+1', I could control two more creatures (not that that limit was a problem for me at the moment), a single white mana had been added to my casting cost, and I gained 'One white mana to prevent the next three points of damage that would be dealt to target permanent this turn'. The card said 'prevent damage', but my Power was telling me 'heal'. And it didn't need to be damage done that turn. I was a full-on healer now. Wow.

I was getting used to cards and abilities doing more than they said in the text, but describing healing as 'preventing damage' was strange. It took some thinking, but I finally got my head around it. The cards were only interested in fighting. If an ability had uses outside of immediate combat, the cards didn't care. Maybe my swiftfoot boots would let me run faster, but because the combat benefits of that were not significant, the cards didn't mention it. Undoing damage taken within seconds of being hit would be useful for a fight. Undoing it the day after would mean nothing to the fight, it would just be a pleasant side-effect.

I wondered how closely the cards reflected what Queen Administrator was interested in, and if she differed noticeably from other shards. The idea was disturbing. Rather than dwell on it, I examined my card.

I was now 'Taylor Hebert, Righteous Fighter', my creature type was now 'Parahuman Planeswalker Hero' and the picture showed me rushing at Hookwolf. The text read, 'Fu--', with the quote attributed to Hookwolf, which made me smile. My next Escalate!!!! ability was eight generic and two black mana, and I was hesitant to activate it. Having reviewed a lot of cards recently, I knew that I was probably going to find black-affinity abilities to be distasteful. Something I needed to think about later, because I needed breakfast before I headed out to school.

Dad had bandaged his hand, but I could tell from how he was holding his coffee cup that it was still hurting.

"Hey, Dad, do you consent to parahuman healing?" I asked with a grin.

"What? You can heal people now?"

I laughed, "I 'Escalated' my abilities just before midnight. I can spend mana to heal people. I've got plenty of mana, so if you want..."

Dad looked worried, but nodded. I tapped a jewel for white mana and touched his shoulder. I could feel the mana flowing into my father, restoring order and harmony to his hand. He still sighed with relief when the damage was undone, but the mana flowed for a little longer. Maybe it was clearing up a few other issues?

"Thank you, kiddo," he said, removing the bandages and examining his hand. He looked at me. "I know you need to get to school, but we need to talk, sometime soon. You're getting very powerful, very fast, and that will make people nervous, and make some people want to control you."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll be careful. I might not be home when you come in, though -- Hookwolf's Birdcage transport is this evening."

"Be careful. I love you."

"Love you."

School. Lots of stares. Lots of whispers. Lots of fear.

I'd thought that it was bad before, but that football demolished all doubt. Everyone knew I was a cape, and didn't know the unwritten rules well enough to actually shut up about it.

I'd suddenly gone from school pariah to queen of the hill. When I walked down the hall, people got out of the way. If someone didn't see me coming, friends would grab and pull them out of my path. Even the teachers had heard -- I was never called upon to answer questions, never singled out, and when I raised my hand with a question, they immediately asked what I wanted to know.

After two years of bullying, I loved it.

I hated it.

I needed to get out of there.

When I asked to speak with the acting Principal, I was let right in. When I told Evans that I was planning on moving to Arcadia High, he literally sagged with relief and promised to do what he could to help. I wasn't sure how useful that would be in comparison to the PRT's efforts, but maybe it'd help.

He also suggested that I 'home school' until I could transfer. He promised that attendance wouldn't be a problem for me. He was really making me feel welcome. I told him that I'd think about it.

I went home early. No-one stopped me.

Things had been changing fast. I needed some tranquillity and calm.

I took my flute and a book of music, and went to the Triome via the Bootlegger's Stash.

I set the book down where I could read it and took the flute out of its case and tried to see how rusty I'd gotten.

The answer was 'very'. I couldn't get my fingering right, my embouchure was terrible, and my tone was all over the place. My endurance was through the roof, but my emotional control was less so. It was going to take a long time to recover what I'd lost thanks to--

Nope. Not going to think about it. I was going to play the flute. I went back to the beginning of 'Ode to Joy', and tried again. I wasn't feeling joyful, and it sounded terrible besides, but I kept going. I wasn't going to give up. Ever. If those bitches thought that they--

I felt the metal of the flute give under my fingers. I withheld a roar of rage. I breathed calmly, fed some generic mana into my flute to heal the damage that I'd done to it, and put everything back away.

I flew back home. Playing the flute wasn't happening today. I needed some stress relief, and while maybe I wouldn't be punching a Nazi tonight, I would probably get an opportunity to make them regret their life choices, and that sounded pretty relaxing to me.

I headed to the meeting point with plenty of time to spare. I really needed a transport option that wasn't a blatant demonstration of Power and wasn't the bus. I did grab a bag of fries on the way though, to ward off any hunger from a potentially long and boring wait.

The meeting spot was another one of the PRT buildings. It was a semi-public building for civilian outreach, I think. Or at least I could walk through the doors in my civilian identity and explain that I had a meeting with Miss Militia in half an hour, and was it okay if I waited here? The receptionist called someone, and then a trooper walked into the room and led me to a conference room and told me that I could wait there, no problem. There was a water cooler in the corner, so I declined any drinks. He said that 'the others' would be there soon.

As soon as the trooper left I switched to the Black Knight armour and lay back, floating a foot off the table, staring at the ceiling tiles. It was pretty relaxing, just being there and doing my breathing exercises.

"Oh!" said a man's voice, and I turned to see Sere, the desiccating hero, staring into the room. He was wearing finely-pattered pale robes and a full face mask that was a white blank except for blue lenses for his eyes. I immediately wanted to ask him if he was cosplaying as a Fremen, but maybe that question could wait. He was in a combat stance, and I was suddenly glad that 'lying on your back, staring at the ceiling' was a pretty non-confrontational posture.

"Hiya," I said, floating down to meet him as he eased into the room, "I'm Walker."

"Of course you are," teased a voice from behind Sere, and saw Assault behind him, "I could tell from how you are walking right now."

"Keep moving, bozo," said a woman's voice, and the men walked into the room to allow Battery to enter with them.

"Hmm. That is not Walker's usual costume," said Sere.

I tried to click my fingers (yeah, not easy while wearing gauntlets). When that failed, I just switched to the Robe of Stars getup, complete with the bright Mask of Law and Grace enchantment. "I get that. Miss Militia suggested that I switch to something less noticeable for reconnaissance work."

"That flashlight face mask isn't the most subtle, is it," agreed Assault. Point made, I switched back to the Black Knight setup. "Ah, much better. Less painful," he said.

"Thank you," I said with a voice laden with sarcasm, "'Not physically painful to look at' is a standard that all girls aspire to."

"Hello, Walker," said Battery, stepping forward to shake my hand, "I'm Battery, the idiot is Assault and the desert man is Sere; he's a roving member of the Protectorate, on loan to Brockton Bay for this exercise. Good to meet you."

I offered a fistbump rather than take the handshake, "Sorry, I'm not used to my strength yet, especially with gauntlets."

"No problem," said Battery, bumping fists with me, to be followed by Sere and Assault.

The three confirmed their powers while we waited for Miss Militia, who was held up with some administrative work of some kind. Sere had his dehydration ability, and could use it to both exhaust people to unconsciousness and kill them. Battery could charge-up for several seconds, after which she had considerably boosted speed, strength, toughness, and some 'minor powers'. Assault could manipulate the kinetic energy of himself and anything he touched. He could absorb the power of any hits and use that power to boost his own speed, or that of something he touched.

It was fascinating to talk Powers with heroes like an equal, and the potential of Assault's power was staggering. We were talking about me potentially hitting him full-force prior to an engagement to give him an early boost when Miss Militia entered the room, laden down with the gear she'd trained me in the day before.

"Please don't punch Assault just before an operation, Walker, even if he does deserve it," she said.

I hurried to relieve her of her burdens.

"Thanks, Walker," she said, "This is your gear. Oh, and I need you to sign for your Number Man card." She pulled a document and an envelope out of a pocket and offered them to me.

While I was gearing-up, card in pocket, Miss Militia scanned the room. "Good, we're all here. The transport will be leaving in half an hour, escorted by Armsmaster on his cycle and Dauntless in the air. It will be a convoy of five vehicles, with three containment transports and troopers in the rearmost vehicle. One of the containment transports has Hookwolf in it, and will be picked at random by Armsmaster before setting out, the other two are decoys. It will be heading north for the Canadian border where we will hand Hookwolf to the Guild, who will take him the rest of the way. We will be following in a new tinkertech flying vehicle designed by Aviator, Armsmaster, and Dragon, and piloted by Aviator."

Huh, I didn't have that artefact on my interface. Interesting. Presumably the combined effort of the two non-controlled tinkers to the design was enough to free it from my control. I wasn't bothered by the revelation, I had plenty to keep track of as it is.

"Question?" I asked, and when Miss Militia nodded, "Why not just fly him to the Guild, or direct to the Birdcage?"

"Good question," said Miss Militia, "We don't have enough fliers to give us a clear advantage during an aerial battle, and we don't want the transport to be shot down with a barrage of rockets -- Hookwolf would likely survive that, most of our people would not."

"Thanks," I said.

"We will escort the convoy as far as Canada," said Miss Militia, "Overnight facilities are waiting for us there; we'll return in the morning." I raised my hand, "Walker?"

"If you don't anticipate any problems on the way back, I'll just warp home rather than fly back, if that's okay."

"That's fine. We weren't aware of that Power?"

"It's a new one," I said with a shrug, "Oh, and I can now do a little healing as well, if it's needed."

Assault gave a low whistle.

"Healing as well? You're growing new Powers at an alarming rate," said Miss Militia.

"It's not free for me, but it if emergency healing is called for, I can help. As for new powers, I get the feeling that I'm actually going pretty slow. There are lots of silly tricks I could be doing to grow faster, it just doesn't seem necessary."

That earned me a surprised raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, it is a little scary. But I do control the pace, mostly. There's just a lot going on right now, and I don't want to get too far ahead or fall behind."

"A commendable attitude, but don't try to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, Walker. You're still young, and others can help."

"...Thanks."

Miss Militia nodded, and scanned the room. "Any questions?" There were shakes of heads all round. "Good, let's get on board the 'New Start'."

The New Start was a strange mix of Prakash's earlier thopters and the Dragonsuits that Dragon favoured. Most of its surfaces were bronze and glass tubes, but there were black support struts and what clearly looked to be Earth Bet rocket thrusters for forward thrust. The main body was bulbous, with many adjustable wings sticking out at strange angles. It looked far too ungainly to fly, of course, but it was also hovering in the air. Prakash, or rather, Aviator, was waiting for us with a broad smile, the top of his face hidden by a goggled mask.

"Welcome, welcome! Come on board, heroes all, and we shall be off!"

He looked well, which I was grateful to see. I nodded to him as I approached with the other Protectorate heroes. Prakash wasn't going to leave it at that. "My benefactor! It is a delight to see you again!" He bowed low. "Thank you, ma'am for this life you have given me. This is a world of wonders and despair, and it is a singular honour to fight for it, in my own way!"

"Hello, Aviator," I said, "You are welcome. I'm glad that working for the Protectorate is going well for you."

"As am I! I would love to talk more, but I can see that the formidable Miss Militia is keen to be off. If you'll forgive me, we shall depart." He actually waited for my nod before letting us all on his new flying machine.

The passenger cabin had seating for eight people, and had a meeting room table in the middle. The chairs were luxuriously soft, the lights low, and there were cabinets along the walls. There was a door at the back with the sign of a unisex toilet.

Prakash took the controls with confidence, and we were soon in the air. There was no sudden surge of movement, and the flight was amazingly quiet and smooth.

Assault leaned back in his chair and sighed in comfort. "Definitely the best flight I've ever been on. Five stars, A-plus service."

"Thank you!" called out Prakash, "Making her has been almost as exhilarating as flying her!"

Assault couldn't sit still for long, and happily rummaged through the cabinets until he found snacks and some non-alcoholic drinks. "Seriously, this thing is the best."

"It's amazing what three tinkers working together can do with sufficient resources," agreed Battery seriously, adjusting her seat.

Prakash flew us high over the PRT Headquarters, and I could sense the PRT's Confoam Spotter Thopter a little to our side, also watching over the oil rig. It wouldn't be fast enough to keep up with the convoy once it hit the open roads, but it would be extremely useful if the ambush was in town.

Fifteen minutes later, a hole opened in the oil rig forcefield, a forcefield road extended to the mainland, and the convoy departed, with us shadowing it from on high. The spotter thopter's telescopes let me see the convoy in detail, with Armsmaster's blue Armscycle easy to spot, but Dauntless was harder to see.

"Should we be worried about anyone attacking the PRT, or somewhere in town, while so many capes are escorting the convoy?" I asked.

Miss Militia shook her head, "It's under control. The Wards are on high alert with Velocity to lead them, and New Wave are out in force. The Empire won't be interested in anything other than the convoy, and the other groups have been quiet recently."

New Wave were a public hero group whose members lived without a mask. It had been an attempt at a new way of being a hero, but they stalled when a member of the Empire murdered one of their members in her own home. They still numbered nine capes, including famous people like Glory Girl and her adopted sister, Panacea. They were well able to tackle most threats represented by the Bay.

The convoy made its way through the city and towards the interstate. I was expecting the Empire to attack at any moment, but it didn't happen.

The interstate was quiet at night, and the convoy sped up as soon as it left the city.

I was looking out the windows at the ground far below as the city gave way to roads, scrubland, and woods. And a feeling was building up in me that something was changing. It was rising fast, and I suddenly realised that I was leaving the Brockton Bay battlefield. That was good for my 'I have the Power!' plan, but really bad for my 'I want to teleport home at the end of the night' and 'I want to be helpful in the upcoming fight' plan because I didn't have any mana sources with me.

I quickly tapped all my mana rocks, the Garrison, and seven Treasures. I didn't know what colour mana I would need, but the cards and abilities I was most likely to want to use were white and blue. I might have done a better job of picking my colours if I'd sat down to work things out in advance, but what was done was done. I now had six white, six blue, two green, and one red mana waiting to be used. Fifteen mana. Hopefully it would be enough.

I blinked as my secondary interface changed. I was now out of the Brockton Bay battlefield. I lost contact with all my stuff, including the massive pile of treasure, and all my summons except Prakash and my equipment. This was a problem, but thankfully if I needed to pan for gold, I was still good. Phew.

"Aviator, how far from Brockton Bay are we now?" I called out.

"About three miles, my lady," he replied.

"Thanks!" Good to know.

I soon found a problem with the Black Knight suit -- it didn't have a mouth-hole for food or drinks. I had the choice of unmasking to effective strangers, going without food, or switching to my Mask of Law and Grace which, as an enchantment was insubstantial but also painfully bright.

It wasn't the easiest decision; I liked the people in the New Start, and I'd already unmasked to Miss Militia, so the PRT already knew everything there was to know about me. The others had probably read the full briefing pack that probably included that photo from sixth grade when I had braces and really ugly glasses. Unmasking would be an improvement from that, surely?

I wasn't hungry hungry, but those nuts that Assault found did look tasty and they weren't lasting long with both him and Battery sharing them.

I had almost made up my mind to doff my helmet when Prakash called out, "Visual contact!"

"I can't see anyone," said Rune quietly, watching the highway and the approaching convoy. "Just Armsmaster on his stupid bike, and the convoy."

"Dauntless, above and to the left," said Victor with confidence. Rune shifted her binoculars and could just make out the cape.

"Are we sure that they're not in the APC at the back?" asked Rune.

"Ja," said Krieg, his voice slightly distorted by his gas mask, "Intelligence is clear. Soldiers are in APC. Capes in other, unknown vehicle."

"I can't see it," said Victor, "Stealth, maybe-- Wait-- Something blocked the stars. High up, eleven o'clock. Stealth craft, flying, high elevation."

Rune couldn't see a darn thing, but she wasn't there to give orders. The convoy was getting close to their agreed ambush point. She had two large reinforced concrete blocks hovering high above the road. Both weighed several tonnes and would stop anything short of a main battle tank.

"Someone's spotted something," called out Victor, "They are slowing."

"Go!" said Krieg, and Rune let both blocks drop. The feeling of free-fall was always a thrill. She focussed on using her Power to keep the blocks level and on target. She'd suggested crushing the lead vehicle, but no-one wanted to risk killing Armsmaster and pulling the Triumvirate down on their heads. Just stopping the convoy in the right position would be enough, Victor assured her.

She could see the convoy slow. She thought she could definitely aim for the lead truck in the convoy without hitting the big blue nerd with everything stopped, but Victor hated it when she didn't follow the plan, and Krieg was even worse.

She started slowing the manned block that they were all on, but forced the other block to fall faster and it hit the road with a resounding crash. She brought the other block to a halt a dozen yards above the roadway, just like they'd practised, and held it steady so that Victor could use it as a sniping platform. Krieg jumped to his feet, ran, and leapt off the platform, relying on his Power to let him land gently.

Victor's rifle was far too close to Rune's ears and it hurt when he fired it; she should have worn ear defenders. Even worse, the bullet from Victor's rifle sparked on a tinkertech shield of some kind that was protecting the lead vehicle -- a wasted shot.

Othala, who had been lying on the block next to her husband suddenly cried out and convulsed, no longer touching him.

Victor cursed, rolled onto his back to look upwards, there was a clink, and then the world was yellowish-white. And smelt kinda plasticy.

Rune wanted to curse too, but opening you mouth when you were surrounded by containment foam was a bad idea.

When Prakash had called out, I'd automatically focussed my attention on him and I could see what he was seeing. Which was a couple of massive concrete slabs that had been spray-painted dark grey, hovering dozens of yards above the road. I should have been paying attention to the battlefield UI. There were four people on the blocks -- one small one wearing robes, one woman in a skintight red outfit, and two in weird pseudo-military uniforms, one with a sniper rifle and the other with a sword at his hip.

"Rune on a large floating concrete block," I said, "with Othala, Victor, and Krieg," and then I teleported to Prakash. Only, when I teleported to him, I deliberately overshot a little, and ended up outside of the New Start. From there I could fly quickly above the block and assess the situation.

"Walker! Do not engage until shots are fired!" said Miss Militia on the headset.

Othala could boost the strength of anyone she touched, possibly enough for them to be able to tear out of containment foam. I needed to get her to stop touching Victor before I foamed them up.

I aimed my rifle with my main hand and pulled a confoam grenade with the other. I waited while the blocks dropped like rocks. One slammed into the road, kicking up a cloud of dust, and the occupied one slowed and stopped mid-air. Only when the sniper fired did I zap Othala to stop her from touching her partner, and then drop the grenade on them.

It did it's job moderately well. Victor was only three quarters-covered in foam -- he had a free arm and a free foot, but he wasn't going to be sniping again tonight. Othala and Rune were entirely covered. Unfortunately, Rune was still in control of the concrete slab despite the foam, and that meant that she could still pilot it, even if she couldn't see. The slab veered to one side and started moving away at a fair pace.

I scanned the rest of the battlefield.

There was a mess of Empire thugs with guns charging the convoy from under a hide that had been set up on the other side of the road. They were well spread out, but the confoam turret on the APC was doing a fine job in hosing them down with yellowish gooey confoam goodness. Not a problem.

More of a problem were the other Empire capes, who were attacking the convoy from the nearside of the road. Clearly the thugs were doing their job of keeping the APC occupied while the villains freed Hookwolf.

Three flying ghostly figures were attacking Armsmaster which meant that Crusader was hiding somewhere. Crusader's ghosts could pass through solid matter without any problems, and packed enough of a punch that Armsmaster couldn't discount them. He could avoid them, but they were working with Krieg to keep the Tinker fully occupied. I wasn't worried about Armsmaster, the man was legendarily capable, but he wasn't able to protect the convoy.

Dauntless had a different problem -- Alabaster with a confoam grenade launcher. It was probably tinkertech, because Alabaster was getting some impressive shots off. The first one had hit Dauntless, the second got Armsmaster's cycle, and now he was targeting the APC wheels.

Dauntless was mostly foamed-up now; he hadn't been able to get his shield up in time.

All this meant that Cricket and Stormtiger could attack the three prisoner transport vehicles. Disturbingly they both ignored the closest vehicle and attacked the second one, with Cricket placing an explosive charge to breach the rear doors while Stormtiger attacked the cab.

Aviator had the New Start swooping in on an attack run. The nearside passenger bay door was half-open and Miss Militia was braced against it, firing something at Cricket. I couldn't see what the others were doing.

I had a few choices on how to help, but the biggest problem I could see was Alabaster, so I flew over him and tossed a confoam grenade at his feet. The man was immune to just about everything, resetting to his default state every four seconds or so, undoing any damage done to him, making my taser rifle useless.

Alabaster's grenade launcher had stopped firing.

Krieg had a poor view of the field of battle, but things were not going well. He and Crusader could keep Armsmaster busy, but the man was far too dangerous to ignore. Victor and Rune should have been providing oversight, but Victor had shouted, 'Confoam' and then gone silent.

They'd been holding forces in reserve to deal with Walker; their informant had been clear that the new cape was a significant threat and he had offered a generous bounty if they managed to kill the bitch. Someone should have called out a sighting--

"Black Knight, flying, coming towards me," said Crusader over comms. Crusader was in the hide, alongside their reserves. Krieg had no idea who the Black Knight could be, but it hardly mattered. They needed everything they had.

"Purity, full force!"

So, my highest priority was taking out Crusader. With him gone, Armsmaster could focus on Krieg, Miss Militia, Assault, and Battery could handle Cricket and Stormtiger. Seeing as Crusader was keeping out of the fight, it struck me that they'd stash him in the obvious location -- the large hide that the Empire thugs had coming charging out of. He didn't need to be close to the action to do his thing, after all. The confoam grenades wouldn't do much to him, seeing as his 'ghosts' were doing all the work, so it was time for the taser rifle to shine.

I flew over to the hide, gun at the ready, and earned a face-full of blindingly bright plasma for my trouble. I felt like a rank amateur – if I had been a normal cape, I would have been a normal crispy-fried ex-cape. As it was, my mask was protecting me from the damage. It did nothing about the embarassment though.

The blast that hit me made a massively loud noise and was painfully bright. By the time I'd cleared the spots from my eyes and shook my head to clear my mind, I was hit by another, far stronger blast. At least this time I managed to close my eyes in time, and I was better braced. I was trying to dodge, but it was hard as I couldn't look directly at whoever kept shooting laser beams at me.

Purity. It was Purity who was shooting me with bright white light. She was famously powerful, a fast flier, and clearly better at aerial manoeuvres than me, because it took me ages to escape her deathbeam.

As soon as I'd stopped my 'child's balloon being sprayed by a fire-hose' impression, I took to the air fast, and had the joy of seeing the third blast, which looked pretty similar to the second one, shoot out beneath me.

Purity was a woman dressed in white who was too bright to properly look at. She clearly hadn't been bothered by the Skyblinder Staff, but maybe her Power had the necessary secondary powers like blindness-resistance; her light blasts wouldn't be too useful if she blinded herself every time she shot them, after all. Either way, the bright light she was putting out was in my favour, because it meant that I could easily track her as we circled each other. She was building up charge for another shot, and I was trying to--

Great. My taser rifle was now a bit melted. I dropped it, pulled out the Thunder Lasso, and tried to close in.

Purity was fast, but I was faster. She was more experienced at aerial dogfights, though, and clipped my leg with her fourth blast before I could close the distance. I was trying to dodge her attacks, because ignoring them was just stupid, but thankfully they didn't hurt. I dropped to the ground to dodge her follow-through, and then I pushed against the ground to launch myself forward as a me-propelled missile, and shot past her. I'd given myself plenty of clearance for the move, because the last thing I wanted to do was shoot myself straight through her, even if she was a racist Nazi thug.

She tried to turn to face me, but I was able to stop while still in Lasso range, and Purity got lassoed, and then stunned. She screeched as the electrical arcs danced over her twitching body, and then started falling.

Ugh. I needed to catch her, didn't I? I sighed mentally, but still caught her in a princess carry and dumped her on the ground almost gently. See, Miss Militia! No brutality! Purity didn't just have 'localised pain and muscle damage', she was out like a light. I was confident that she wouldn't wake until midnight. I had no idea what time it was, but it was definitely hours away.

What next--

"Walker!" said Miss Militia on comms, "Cricket and Stormtiger are escaping with Hookwolf. Bring them back!"

Right. "On my way!"

Maybe Andy Hurwell hadn't been thinking too clearly when he joined the PRT. Normal people couldn't fight capes; it was common knowledge. He'd joined up because villain capes had already cost him too much and spite was one heck of a motivator.

Only, when they trained him, he found out that it wasn't as one-sided as it sometimes seemed. Sure, every cape, ever, had at least one trick up their sleeve, but otherwise? Most of them were normal people. They could be handled. Don't let a Thinker talk. Don't fight a Tinker in their lair. Don't go against a Brute without a dozen friends and the right equipment. If a Blaster saw you first you were probably dead, but if you saw them coming then it could be a very different story. And there was one other advantage that normies often had -- capes were arrogant idiots.

Andy was getting close to six years in the PRT, and he was now thinking of it as a career, not a suicide run. Sure, volunteering for the protection detail of Hookwolf's transport was dangerous, but with the right preparation, it was also survivable. He was in the APC anyway, and that meant that he was behind the best armour in the convoy.

Andy was leaning against the rear door of the APC, waiting for Mo on the foam cannon to finish off the last of the E88 goons. They were idiots, but they were idiots with guns and there was no point eating a bullet if you could wait twenty seconds instead.

"Group Aleph ready!" shouted the Sergeant, "Covered hide on our left, other side of the road, no sightseeing! On my mark! Go! Go! Go!"

Andy slammed open the door and charged, circling the small knee-high lake of containment foam that encased the E88 footsoldiers. He knew that Krieg was fighting Armsmaster at the head of the convoy, but Krieg was out of Andy's weight class -- a man needed to know his limits, and Shaker 8 without special equipment and a clear plan was well past Andy's. He raced across the road and slid into the drainage ditch on the far side.

"Purity sighted!" came over comms, a couple of seconds after the blinding light and a thunderclap let the world know. That was bad news, but at least Purity's blasts weren't aimed at him. He did catch sight of her out of the corner of his eye, but Purity was moving too fast for him to stand a chance of hitting her with his taser, and he needed his night vision. When you were fighting capes there was no room for mistakes. He wasn't looking in her direction when another, louder and brighter, beam shot out.

Trying to mix speed with stealth, Andy, Joe, and Frank were rapidly crawling along the ditch to where Purity had come from. Andy stuck his head above the bank of the ditch, and-- and he couldn't see anything. Smoke? The tent was full of—

"Fog! Fog sighted!" he whispered urgently into his comms, and ducking back out of sight.

Fog was a man who could turn himself into a bank of acidic fog that ate living material, causing wounds that only Panacea could cure; breathing him in was a death sentence. He was Changer 8, but the bigger threat was his wife, Night, and they were never seen apart.

"Priority on Fog," replied Armsmaster calmly, "Confirm location of Night."

"Hold position, Aleph," replied Miss Militia, sounding out of breath, "Flare incoming. Be ready."

Andy glanced at Joe and Fred. The full-face PRT trooper helmets made reading people hard, but Andy could manage. Joe was holding his grenade launcher close, and Fred has his confoam sprayer set to maximum range. They were both as nervous as he was, then, but they'd do their part.

There was the*thunk* of a flare pistol firing, and a flare arced through the air and into the tent.

Andy rose to his feet, Joe and Fred beside him, and he looked through Fog by the light of the flare.

"Night confirmed, centre. Crusader, getaway vehicles behind Fog."

Night was a finely-dressed woman with sharp features and blonde hair, so long as someone could see her. If no-one could see her, because she was hiding in her husband, for example, she was an inhumanly fast ink blot of razor-sharp shadows with strength and speed close to that of the Siberian. Breaker 9, Taking all eyes off her was the recipe for a swift death. Thankfully, Miss Militia's flare was enough light to see her by, and Group Aleph had time to act.

"Eyes on Night," said Joe.

"Firing," said Andy.

They hadn't had time to agree their targets, but that was why they trained. Andy didn't taser Night, and Fred didn't foam her – her breaker state would do any damage they did, and she could tear through containment foam with ease. Instead Andy went for a better target.

Night and Fog were heavy hitters. But Crusader? Master 6, with his ghosts all involved with pestering Armsmaster? That he could manage.

Crusader spasmed as the current from the Tinkertech rifle passed through him, falling to the ground and curling into a ball.

Fred had sprayed a double line of foam across the windscreens of the getaway trucks, enough for it to expand and block them entirely. Once Crusader was down, though, he directed his sprayer onto him.

The Canadian Tinker, Dragon, had designed the PRT's full-face helmets, and they were photoreactive enough to block Night's favourite toy for blinding onlookers, flashbangs. Night knew this, and instead she raised her cloak, obstructing Joe's vision for one key moment.

Joe had been waiting for that, and fired his grenade launcher, which was loaded with a flare. It caught the cloak, knocking it aside and forcing Night out of her Breaker state a moment after she entered it. The woman shouted, "Scheisse!" as her cloak caught fire.

"Back away!" shouted Andy. They'd done as much as they could, now they needed to survive the next thirty seconds.

Backing away into a ditch without taking your eyes off a homicidal woman was slow work. Slower than Fog would need to reach them.

Andy was getting worried, and it was only a matter of moments before one of them would lose balance and fall.

"Eyes on Night," came Sere's voice over comms, and a wave of relief washed over Andy.

"Go!" he shouted, and Group Aleph turned as one and ran.

They pounded up the side of the ditch, towards the APC.

When you joined the PRT, you quickly realised that the trainers were the most sadistic assholes on God's green Earth. When you spent a few weeks on patrol you found out that they were angels in human form, because you needed every second of endurance and every ounce of strength they had given you to keep up on the PRT's chosen battlefield. Those bastards were asleep in their beds, but they saved another three lives right then by giving Aleph the speed to get out of the ditch before Fog reached them.

"Bet, Gimel," came Derry's voice over comms, "Get out there! More eyes!"

There was a bright flash behind them, and a shatteringly loud *crack*.

"Fuck!" swore Sere. The PRT helmets protected against flashbangs; Sere's contact lenses wouldn't do the same.

Andy needed to turn fast, and he let his momentum carry him to the ground when he did so. He was fast enough to catch sight of Night, mere yards from eviscerating him. That was too fucking close.

He tried to scramble away and to his feet, staring at the woman glaring at him. She'd lost her cloak, she'd left her husband behind him, and they were too close for flashbangs. She would slaughter him the moment they took their eyes off her, but he had a moment's grace to gasp for breath.

He drew his sidearm. Before he could take aim, hands grabbed him under his shoulders and he felt himself lifted up. He didn't take his eyes off Night even as Joe and Fred dragged him away from her. Night was looking left and right for somewhere to hide—

"Eyes on Night," said Jessica, Bet lead, swiftly followed by Howie who echoed her, and then more voices blending into each other. The other groups were by the APC.

Night skittered back to Fog, juking left and right to disrupt firing lines, but Aleph was between the APC and her, so they probably didn't have a shot anyway, and he was being jostled too much to take aim. Soon she was lost back in the Fog, and it was moving inexoriably towards them.

Andy looked around. They were in the middle of the road. They could head to the APC, but none of the troopers had anything that would touch Fog, and once he reached the APC then his wife could tear it open like a bear ripping open a picnic basket. There were no safe spaces to hide in.

They had nothing that could touch the Fog.

"Stop," said Andy loudly, and Joe and Fred stopped pulling him. They were out of options.

Andy did as he had been trained to do. He pulled a grenade from his belt and threw at at his feet.

Soon he, Frank, and Joe were helpless and encased in foam. Inorganic foam that Fog couldn't eat. Night could cut through it, but she was ruthless and unemotional -- she didn't hold a grudge.

This was the most important thing Andy had picked up from his training -- know your enemy. Group Aleph had taken down one cape and distracted two heavy hitters for a couple of minutes, without taking casualties. It gave the friendly capes time that they would hopefully use wisely. He tried to relax his breathing as the foam slowly hardened around him.

They had done well.

It had been touch-and-go at one point, but now Armsmaster was feeling a lot more confident. He had an organic spray module for his halberd that he'd tried out against Crusader's ghosts, but it wasn't very effective. The ghosts weren't too dangerous, but could not be touched by non-living material which made most of his weapons useless. Coupled with Krieg's telekinesis, he had been steadily pressed back and in constant danger of being surrounded. If he'd been on his cycle then neither would have been a problem, but Alabaster's starting volley had immobilised it.

Then Crusader's ghosts had retreated back to their master, thanks to the work of some troopers, leaving him to duel Krieg, who was looking more and more desperate. Then Assault and Battery had joined the field, easily taking out the Crusader's ghosts from behind. He signalled that they should help the troopers rather than get involved with Krieg. Krieg was his.

Krieg was formidable and was surprisingly skilled with his sword, but the man's telekinetic presence that dulled strikes, deflected bullets, and degraded his enemy's ability to breathe was not the perfect defence. Armsmaster kept Krieg busy, his plasma-halberd keeping the man at bay and eating away at the man's sword, and then Miss Militia fired a smoke grenade at Krieg's feet. Armsmaster's armour included air filters, and an independent air supply that was good for fifteen minutes, of course, so the gas was no problem for him. Krieg was wearing a gas mask, so the smoke wouldn't harm him either, but that wasn't why it was there.

Armsmaster casually tossed his own 'grenade' at the man's feet, and Krieg didn't notice thanks to the smoke. This grenade was a surfactant dispenser. It had no special qualities apart from making surfaces extremely slippery, which was useful against a surprising number of non-fliers. Krieg's telekinesis wasn't enough to save him from a fall, and then Armsmaster could close in and jab him with the tranquilliser attachment to his halberd.

Krieg was down.

Armsmaster could finally get a view of the battlefield. No sign of Purity. Night and Fog were both attacking Sere. Sere was holding his own, keeping them both back with carefully placed conic dehydrating blasts while Groups Bet and Gimel kept gimlet eyes on Night from a safe distance. Fog was particularly susceptible to Sere's attack and the pair were falling back. Both villains would surely run soon once they realised that the PRT and the Protectorate had won the field but lost the fight: there was no sign of the prisoner transport that he'd put Hookwolf in.

The plan had been hashed out over several days. Stormtiger had no idea how the rest of the fight was going, but he'd done his bit just fine. He and Cricket had secured Brad's transport, and driven it from the convoy. The PRT had Brad sedated, of course, the man was too dangerous to transport otherwise, but Cricket had an adrenaline injector that should stand a chance of waking him, or at least triggering his transformation, which should do the rest. So he drove the transport to the all-terrain vehicle they'd prepared and then went to the back to help Cricket drag the still unconscious Hookwolf into the Jeep Wrangler.

Cricket stayed in the back while Stormtiger floored the Wrangler, driving across the fields to the nearby road that would take them to the safe house that they'd set up.

Cricket urgently banged on the frame of the car, and Stormtiger peered through the rear-view mirror. He couldn't see anything, but Cricket wasn't--

There was a person in black medieval armour flying at them at race-car speeds. Cricket was screaming at the figure, but they seemed to be immune to her sonic attack. Stormtiger tried to evade, but the flier was far more manoeuvrable than the car. Before he could come up with a plan the armoured figure punched through the passenger side window, sending fragments of glass flying, and dropped something inside the car.

Fucking containment foam!

The grenade was designed to spread the foam over a large area. Trapped in the car like this, they were swiftly encased. Stormtiger still had his foot on the accelerator. He couldn't do much else, but he was damned if he was going to make things easy for anyone. He floored it.

Miss Militia turned her back from where Armsmaster and Sere were fighting Night and Fog -- her Power wouldn't be much use against either one. The last fight was under control, so Miss Militia hurried to help her allies. The great advantage of the Empire's chosen ambush location was that there had been no bystanders to get hurt. That, coupled with the Empire having vastly underestimated Walker's abilities, had kept the casualties low but not zero. The two troopers who had been in Hookwolf's transport were in a bad shape -- Stormtiger had not been gentle. Trooper Giichi was having a tourniquet applied to what was left of his arm by Assault while Battery desperately tried to staunch Lieutenant Perry's bleeding. Miss Militia ran to help.

Thankfully that was the extent of the damage, but there was no way Perry would make it back to Brockton Bay General Hospital and Panacea.

"The flying concrete slab with three people on it has crashed," reported Aviator on comms, "Should I approach?"

"Negative, Aviator," said Miss Militia, "Hold position and keep an eye on them. If they split up, follow the small one wearing robes." Rune would be the most valuable capture of the three, the Empire had been far less manoeuvrable before she joined them.

"Understood."

They needed-- there was the roar of a car's engine being driven to destruction, and she turned her head to see Walker flying back to the convoy, dragging an off-road vehicle by its tow bar while its tires span trying to get away and doing little other than throwing up a spray of ice and frozen mud.

Once Walker had dragged the car to the road, she casually tipped it on one side, relying on the foam to protect its contents. It was fine -- containment foam was an excellent shock absorber, and putting the vehicle on its side stalled the engine.

"Walker! We need a healer!" shouted Miss Militia, and the woman flew up with commendable speed. Militia didn't want a young girl to see this sort of thing, but if she was going to be a healer, or even just work with the PRT, the sight of people dying would be commonplace for her soon enough.

"Ick," said Walker quietly, but she reached out to touch Perry, and flesh and bone started to reknit themselves. The gaping hole in his chest closed up, and the wide-eyed man who had been as pale as death soon had a healthy flush to his face as he patted himself down in disbelief.

"Aihara could do with a hand as well," called out Assault.

"No problem," said Walker and hurried over.

Assault laughed as Trooper Giichi's arm regrew. "I said, 'a hand', not 'a whole arm', Walker, but good job."

Walker snorted, and Giichi used his newly restored hand to smack Assault's shoulder before going on to thank Walker and Assault both.

It wasn't time to slap each other's backs yet, even if the worst of the night was past.

"Good job, Walker," said Miss Militia, walking up to the girl. "Is there anything in your bag of tricks that might help with that?" She asked, nodding to the area where Night and Fog were executing a fighting retreat. Armsmaster and Sere knew what they were doing and were leaving the villainous duo a clear escape route, but ending the fight sooner would only be for the better. They wouldn't be keen to leave Purity behind.

"Maybe," said Walker, "Let me try this."

She flew closer to the melee, and then there was a flash of light. A sudden squall of wind and warm rain pushed hard against Miss Militia's back, and an owl wreathed in lightning rode in on it, swooping down on the fight. It deftly swerved around Sere and shot past Night and Fog. There was a flash of lightning that blinded Miss Militia for an instant, and then, where there had been a dark life-eating fog lay a woman wearing black and a man wearing grey lying unconscious on the ground.

"Neat!" said Walker happily, "I wasn't sure if that would work!" The lightning owl banked sharply and flew back to it's mistress, landing on her outstretched arm. The remnants of the lightning that had come in with it quickly dissipated, just leaving a slightly odd-looking bird. "Hello, new friend!" she said with a smile in her voice.

Miss Militia shook her head; Walker's Power was just ridiculous. Still, they could now start securing their captives. Purity was lying not far away, so Miss Militia went to secure the woman. "Assault, Battery, Aviator has eyes on Othala, Victor, and Rune. Take a transport and secure them, please."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Battery, and she and her husband went to do that.

I wanted to help, but most of the remaining stuff was PRT stuff I wasn't trained in. They were securing their prisoners, getting containment foam off the road, collecting evidence, and generally looking busy doing things that I couldn't.

I pulled out my phone to tell the Dad that I'd probably not be home until morning and tell the Bards not to worry about me being out of range or anything.

Once I'd hung up, Miss Militia had another job for me.

Miss Militia leaned against the convoy lead vehicle as she watched Walker approach the massive concrete slab that Rune had used to block the road and stop the convoy. It was three feet thick and crossed most of the road.

First Walker lifted the edge of the block and hefted it to judge its weight. She tilted the side, lifting it above her head, and walked her hands underneath to try and carry it. She clearly had the strength, but the block was too large and unwieldy. Every time she tried to position it under her so that she could support its weight, it toppled in one direction or another. She walked herself from back under the block and let it fall to the ground with a massive *thud*.

Armsmaster took a step towards her, but Miss Militia caught his eye and shook her head. He changed direction and walked to Miss Militia.

Walker stood back to reassess the slab. She then walked up to the slab and kicked it, hard. The slab moved half a foot, and several chunks of concrete went flying. She'd gouged out a section from the top of the slab, but reinforced concrete wasn't so easily broken.

"I can do it," said Armsmaster.

"Yes, but she needs to learn how to use her strength," said Miss Militia.

"I can tell her how to do it better."

"Let her keep trying a little more, Colin," said Hannah quietly, "Consider it Power testing."

"Fine." said Armsmaster, grumpily. He was not one to sit idly by and watch when someone showed anything less than extreme competence.

Walker tried kicking the slab a couple more times, sending more chunks flying but not really making much of an impact on the thing. Then she seemed to have an idea. She lifted the edge of the slab above her head and walked herself back underneath it. She hunched down a little, positioned herself with care, and then punched upwards into the centre of the block. Fragments of concrete rained down on her, and she punched upwards again and again. She soon had hollowed a small hole through the concrete slab.

Walker then adjusted her stance to let the slab rest on her shoulders and pushed her hands against sides of the hole, tearing the slab apart. It was sagging now from the cracks she had made, mostly held together by the reinforcing steel rebar rods.

Walker kept working the sections apart. *Thunk* *Thungg* The rebar rods snapped as the sections of the slab were forcefully separated and fell to the ground. Walker had broken the slab into four sections, which then became seven with a repeat of the trick. Most of the pieces were about the size of a pool table, but the last one was twice the size of the others. She could now heft the first section and throw it onto the verge on the side of the road, just past the drainage ditch.

The second section landed next to the first. The third on top of the first, the fourth on top of the second. Walker was getting more accurate with her throws, and the fifth and sixth landed neatly on top of their respective stacks. Walker then lifted the largest chunk, struggling a little to keep it balanced, and threw it to land across the two stacks, forming an impromptu arch.

She did an adorable little dance at getting the parts where she wanted them, until she realised that Miss Militia and Armsmaster were watching her. She straightened and tried to stroll nonchalantly towards them.

"Done!" she said cheerily.

"You sound happy," said Miss Militia before Armsmaster could speak.

"Yeah," said Walker, slightly cocking her head, "I finally found a problem I could solve with punching!"

Miss Militia laughed with her. "Good job. But you've left some chunks of concrete on the road..."

She looked back over her shoulder and said, "Darn it!" and walked back to tidy up the mess she'd made.

"She learned quickly," said Armsmaster, "Not bad. Not great, but not bad."

"What should she have done?" asked Miss Militia.

"Asked for help. I could have cut the concrete neatly with my halberd."

"Out of curiosity," said Miss Militia, "When did you last ask for help from someone who wasn't Dragon?"

"Do as I say, not as I do."

Miss Militia sighed. "By the way, we have a problem."

"Are you asking for help?" asked Armsmaster, which was a complete misread of the conversation.

"We have a problem, Armsmaster," she said, "Purity wasn't wearing a mask, and I saw her face."

"I don't see the problem there. Her face doesn't tell us her civilian identity. She can be tried under her cape name."

"In this case, it does give me her real name. She and I have met at charity events and that sort of thing. And from recognising her face, I realised Kaiser's identity."

Armsmaster turned to stare at Miss Militia. "You know who Kaiser is, with certainty."

"She's his ex-wife. It explains a great deal," said Miss Militia, "Empire's funding, Purity's split from the Empire, a lot of the Bay's history. But it's not proof."

"No, but if you tell me, we can get that proof."

"If I tell you, it breaks the unwritten rules."

"Hardly," said Armsmaster, "Purity chose to abuse her Power in her civilian identity. Or at least unmasked to a Protectorate official. Her identity is no longer protected by the unwritten rules."

"I somehow don't think that Kaiser will see it that way."

"If we can nail that bastard's hide to the wall, he'll have bigger problems. Especially if we find proof by other means. Tell me."

Miss Militia wasn't happy about it, but she spoke.

When Legend arrived, Armsmaster and Miss Militia decamped to the New Start for a debrief. Aviator had been dozing on a pull-out bed, but made no complaints when asked to make himself scarce.

"Firstly," said Legend, "Well done! Very well done! Eleven caped villains captured from an ambush that they set up is a great achievement."

"Thank you, Sir," said Armsmaster, standing straight. Miss Militia was worried that he might salute. Not that she was unaffected by the praise, far from it.

"Now, before we start, how did Walker perform?"

"Walker, Sir?" asked Armsmaster, deflating and sounding slightly offended.

"I was told that she was part of the escort. The young woman has been attracting a lot of attention recently, I'd like to know how she did during a complicated engagement like this one."

"Not perfectly, Sir," said Armsmaster, "She jumped into the fight without waiting for orders. She could have taken care of Crusader's ghosts before hunting him down, which would have allowed me to handle Krieg more easily. She was incautious when approaching Crusader's hide and if she was any less tough then Purity would have outright killed her. Her aerial combat skills need a lot of work -- she got hit by three of Purity's blasts."

Miss Militia, nodded, "All that is true, but she was still our MVP. She neutralised most of the ambushers, and healed our wounded."

Legend nodded along with both assessments, but stopped at the last statement. "She healed them?"

Miss Militia, "Her Power seems to self-augment over time. She has become a faster flier since the Hookwolf capture last week, has learned how to teleport, and can heal with a touch, although she says that it is not unlimited healing. She saved Lieutenant Perry's life without any doubt."

"Interesting. It is imperative that she cooperates with Power testing as soon as possible. We need to not only know her current capabilities, but what she might be capable of in the future."

"She is very distrustful of the PRT, Sir. Without breaching confidentiality rules, that distrust is not without cause."

Legend looked Miss Militia in the eye, "Where does that come from, Miss Militia?"

"She has unmasked to me. A PRT employee was responsible for her trigger event, and considerable further abuse besides. Another one covered up the illegalities."

"That is unfortunate. Still, if she was comfortable unmasking for you then we may yet regain her trust. Please treat that as a priority."

"Yes, Sir."

"Thank you," said Legend with a nod, "And now a more important question -- how much information did they have, and how did they get it?"

"Sir, they knew everything," said Armsmaster, "There is no way they could have known which transport had Hookwolf, but they went straight for it. They knew our route, too."

"Who knew that information?" asked Legend.

"The route? Five people: me, Director Pigot, Miss Militia, Dauntless, and Dragon. The transport that had Hookwolf in it? Only me."

"Only you?"

"Yes, Sir. I personally loaded Hookwolf into the transports. There were no witnesses, not even Hookwolf. The transport was chosen randomly, based on a radioactive decay randomiser. The other vans had fake loads equal in weight and heat output to Hookwolf. There is no way anyone other than me could know which transport he was in."

"Some new parahuman with X-Ray vision?" suggested Legend.

"Maybe," sighed Armsmaster, "But that doesn't explain how they knew the route ahead of time."

"Possibly a powerful precog," suggested Miss Militia.

"We'll need to consider the possibilities. Armsmaster, please submit a full report to Watchdog, see what they can come up with."

"Yes, Sir."

The convoy remained stuck where it was for hours. First we were waiting for local Protectorate branches to send us help in handling our unexpected prisoners, and then there was a lot of talking and debriefing. I was cooling my heels and watching my Tempest Owl (provisional name: Towel) hunt through its senses when my phone bleeped to let me know it was close to midnight.

Oops.

I had been prioritising keep as much blue and white mana available during the fight, because those were the colours of the spells I thought I would be most likely to use. That meant that I had used up all my red and green mana with my teleport and with summoning Towel. I had nine mana left, but it was all white and blue. With no green mana, I couldn't dispense any +1/+1 counters. No-one needed more healing. With no red mana, I couldn't upgrade my Fighter Class.

That severely limited my options. I had one spell I could cast -- Contact Other Plane. It would roll a twenty-sided die, and if it rolled 1-9 I would draw a card, 10-19 would allow me to scry two cards and then draw two cards, and a 20 would let me scry three cards and then draw three cards. I liked drawing cards, so it was an easy decision to cast it.

I really needed to think before casting spells. 'Contact Other Plane' wasn't just a name. As soon as I cast it, my mind left my body and I found myself looking at a dizzying, incomprehensible thing that I did not understand but made me think of lotus blossoms and neurons and membranes dancing like guitar strings and--

It was all very confusing. I didn't have a direction in mind, and couldn't tell what I was sensing, and I had a feeling of momentum without control. I needed a target-- Yuriko. The original, in Kamigawa. I could check in on her!

I honestly think that I almost found her before the spell ended. I could have found her if I'd been focussed from the start. As it is, I had the impression of vast, swirling spirits, green trees, wooden buildings, and figures in dressed in black before I was sucked back into my body and the worst headache of my life.

All that didn't make sorting through my drawn cards any easier.

Apparently I'd rolled a 19.

Scrying cards to see if I wanted them first: Deputized Protester? A man with a hatchet and a burning torch. Pass. Shivan Fire? A dragon burning a person to a cinder. Also Pass. Both cards went to the bottom of my deck.

Then I drew cards: Muscle Burst -- a short term boost to a target's power and toughness, not a vicious attack like it sounded. Numbing Dose -- a means of permanently rendering someone helpless that also damaged their 'player'. Which was also a Phyrexian card -- there was no way I would ever activate that one; even looking at the image made me want to throw up.

I looked at my phone. Three minutes to midnight.

I had a headache. I had enough white mana in hand. My Robe of Stars had 'Astral Projection', which for one generic and one white mana, would make me cease to exist until the next turn. I'd been meaning to test the Robe for ages. I had a splitting headache, so opting out of my head could only be a good idea. Looks like it was time. I activated it.

Being incorporeal felt dreamy. Like there was no headache. No stress, no pain, no urgency. It was quite nice, actually.

Without a body, I was no longer constrained to a single battlefield -- I could experience through the senses of all my summons, both here and in Brockton Bay. I could use any of them as focii for spells, if I wanted. I couldn't teleport myself to any of them, though, because I had no body to send. Still, it was a useful experience.

Midnight struck.