Herald Chapter Six

Herald

Chapter 6

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Colin?” Dragon asked gently from the large, wall mounted display dedicated entirely to her presence, but her best friend/colleague/not-boyfriend was entirely oblivious to her presence. She gave a soft sigh, a runtime of ‘exasperation’ running alongside ‘affection’. The two ran together rather frequently, she thought dryly to herself as she looked at the ranking officer of the ENE Protectorate where he was bent over his work desk. “Colin? Colin~?”

“Hrm?” he grunted in response to the almost sing-song tone of his name’s third repetition, and I rolled my eyes with a smile as he blinked over at me, looking remarkably owl-like as he remembered my presence. “Oh, Dragon, yes. I apologize, I was…busy.”

“Not to worry.” I verbally waved his apology aside, cocking my head and raising an eyebrow. He looked tired, as he always did, but he also looked (dare I say it?) stumped. “What is so fascinating about young Taylor’s pipe? Besides the fact that it seems like it would have quite the monetary value to it.”

“Hundreds of thousands of dollars from just the gems, yes. The gold and silver are unnaturally pure, what of them there is in the setting for the gems, but the majority of the trim is Palladium and the inlays are Rhodium. The carvings appear to have been done by hand, as Ms. Hebert claimed, but are too precise and clean for any hand tool that I know of. The bone has the appearance of ivory, but isn’t. I attempted to remove a microscopic amount for analysis, but failed to damage it in any discernable way.” he reeled off, a few twitches and sub-vocal commands sending files through the dedicated server he and she used to communicate, and Dragon frowned in confusion as the files were opened and perused in seconds.

“This doesn’t make any sense. The substance has no known comparisons or similarities to compounds found on Earth? Even Tinker-tech, however changed it is, has basic elements at its core. And these energy readings? It looks almost like some sort of…” she said slowly, and he interrupted her with a sharp nod.

“Resonance, yes. In fact, if you look at the long-term scan, you’ll note that the resonance remains almost constant with little deviation. Also, I can apparently hear this resonant note despite the fact that my instruments indicate the frequency it functions on approaches two-hundred and twenty kilohertz.”

“That’s absurd, Colin. Humans can’t hear past twenty kilohertz. Dolphins can’t even hear two-twenty! Are you sure you got enough sleep last night?” Dragon couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice, despite her faith in her friend, who gave her a rather unamused look. He punched a command into his computer, and suddenly her pickups in his labs were hearing it. It was like nothing she had ever heard before, beautiful and just as constant as Colin had said it was, but it felt…wrong. Like a song was playing, and she could only hear one of the notes. Magnificent, but unfinished. After a time that seemed interminable, but what her systems informed her was barely two minutes, he cut the sound off. “…I see.”

“Yes.”

They were silent for a time, each thinking in silence as they contemplated what this could mean, before Colin sighed and sent her more files, this time on the substance that Taylor had actually been smoking. He had run it through a battery of tests, an exhaustive battery of tests, but his spectrometer machines were at as much of a loss as they were regarding the substance the pipe was made out of. He hadn’t tested it on anything living yet, but as far as the admittedly limited information he had been able to gather it seemed entirely lacking in negative effects. Whether it had the positive, medicinal effects that Taylor claimed was another thing altogether, of course, and naturally had yet to be determined.

“Well, it seems that your future Ward is a very interesting young woman, Colin. Though I do confess to some concern at her more…aggressive approach to fighting criminals.” The disguised AI remarked after processing those files as well, a subroutine playing through the footage again. The brutally efficient takedowns, the psychological warfare, the flawless victory again and again…and then the most recent footage, of who many would have called a ‘terror hero’, cradling an unconscious Squealer and singing softly to her, a look of gentle comfort on her face and compassion in her burnt-orange eyes. “…how is Squealer doing?”

“Still unconscious, it was decided to keep her under as long as possible to help with the withdrawal effects. PRT Command is still debating what to do with her after that, but a suggestion was raised that, given the relative banality of her crimes, rehabilitation and recruitment might be a good idea.” He responded, sounding uncomfortable, and she considered a thousand scenarios in seconds.

“So, Ms. Hebert didn’t want to stop with simply making sure she was alright after the fight itself, then. And, of course, the opportunity to recruit another Tinker makes an excellent sweetner for the Protectorate.” She deduced, accurately judging by the slight grimace Colin promptly gave. She contemplated the two sides of this fascinating young woman for nearly a full minute, an extremely long time for one such as she. “Interesting. Did she have any apparent motives other than generosity and a belief in second chances?”

“She simply said that most villains never desired to be so, and we should see how Squealer feels and thinks after her mind is actually her own again. She noted that the influence of narcotics, especially the sort that Skidmark peddles, are not so different from a Master effect if one is willing to be honest.” He explained, looking somewhat confused but certainly not dismissive or disagreeable of Taylor’s logic. “And, yes, she did ‘sweeten the spice’ by pointing out the rarity of Tinkers and the potential usefulness of Squealer’s own sphere. She also, quite subtly, reminded us that the Merchant’s functionally stopped existing thanks entirely and solely to her own efforts.”

“Do you think that the Protectorate and PRT will play ball, go along with her ever-so-subtle demands?”

“I gather that its being discussed by the command staff as we speak. Its not terribly unreasonable, so I’m sure they’ll agree fairly quickly.”

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“Absolutely outrageous! Who does this girl think she is?” Director Amalita Wilkins, Head of PRT Division One in New York, looked as outraged as her words sounded as she shoved the papers in front of her away in disgust. “The PRT do not kowtow to arrogant brats who think they’re the next coming of Scion!”

Much like they had not so long ago, the Directors of the Parahuman Response Teams were meeting to discuss a shift in the proverbial playing field. Fortunately, it wasn’t for a reason that was as globally disruptive as Heartbreaker’s assassination, but instead the ‘requests’ of one Taylor Hebert. Of course, they weren’t meeting in person, given both the risk to a decapitating strike and the painful logistics of all getting them to the same place at once, but Tinkertech holographic projectors were honestly more efficient. Usually, one Ward joining up, regardless of city, wouldn’t be worth this many command-level people meeting, but when a teenaged girl wipes out an entire gang with multiple high-tier powers and starts making polite demands awareness could only be considered a net positive.

“No one is suggesting kowtowing, Amalita, but dismissing her requests out of hand would be premature at best, alienating at worst. While she seems…confident, she did manage to take down an entire gang alone, and the footage makes it quite clear that she wasn’t struggling.” Director Armstrong seemed more intrigued than anything else. Hardly a surprise, the man was fascinated by parahumans to a degree that had led to more than a few snide comments about his impartiality and leadership. “The rights to her name, final say on her costume, and getting to stay in her home city are all perfectly reasonable stipulations, and common ones at that. As for the pointed comments about Squealer? Well, I for one agree with her. We’ve rehabilitated much worse villains, certainly less useful ones, haven’t we? Madcap attacked Birdcagetransports on the regular and we let him rebrand. Squealer has a rap sheet a mile long, but it’s almost all fairly petty offenses. Easily handled.”

“I agree with Armstrong.” Tagg grunted, getting skeptical looks from the other directors, as the enmity that had boiled over between them after Heartbreaker’s death hadn’t decreased in the least. Ignoring both their looks and their disbelief, he continued. “Keeping someone like this Hebert girl under our control is better. It makes it easier to use her and to deal with her if she becomes a liability, and this vehicle Tinker will be easy enough to turn into an asset as well.”

“It’s honestly incredible how you manage to make yourself sound more like a sociopathic, mustache-twirling, ‘Obey Me Or Die’ militant dictator with every conversation we have. Do you practice, or is just an inborn talent for narcisstic cruelty that you’ve honed to a sadistic edge?” Heathrow asked almost wonderingly, gazing at the other man, his chin cupped in the palm of his table-braced left hand. Tagg shot him a dark glower, which had no effect whatsoever, and he looked over to the thus-far silent digital form of the Chief-Director. “What do you think, Rebecca? What’s the play?

“She definitely has her own motives, anyone with half a brain can tell that, but she is capable and seems to be genuine when expressing her desire for heroism and helping her home. Emily, what’s the local opinion on her?” Costa-Brown responded by way of a question, and Emily Piggot’s image frowned in response, folding her arms and leaning her not-insignificant bulk back in her chair as she formulated her answer.

“The city is torn between awe and concern, which isn’t any surprise, but the fact that she was on her way to PRT HQ when Squealer attacked, and the fact that she came inside afterwards, has most people happy. They like the idea of a new Ward, my Wards are thrilled at the prospect of a new teammate, and most of the Protectorate members are pleased as well. There could be some issue with personality clashes, given Ms. Hebert’s boldness and cavalier attitude, but I’m reasonably confident that experience with others while being confined to procedure will smooth out her rough edges while pushing the people I already have to grow a bit.” She finally said, a reasonable and non-alarmist evaluation that doubtless would have surprised all those who called her ‘Piggot the Bigot’ behind her back. Just because she didn’t trust capes didn’t mean that she was too stupid or too hateful to ignore the facts, and honestly, she wasn’t even that bigoted. She didn’t hate all capes for no reason other than their nature as capes, she mistrusted them because each and every one of them had, tone one degree or another, suffered something not too dissimilar to a psychotic break. She knew what it took to Trigger as a First-Generation cape, she had read more than enough briefings and AARs to be well aware of how mentally and emotionally damaged someone had to be to get superpowers.

Take Hana, for example, probably the cape she trusted the most and the one whose company she could almost say she actually enjoyed. How had she gotten her powers? By being used as a living mine detector by religious fanatics that had killed her entire villageover a blood feud so old no one involved even knew what had started it anymore, as a child. As calm and reasonable and devoted to the law as Hana was, the possibility that she would snap if something hit her in the right way at the right time was plenty high, and the damage a woman whose super power was (to quote Ms. Hebert) ‘all the weapons’ could do before she was stopped was enormous.

“Very well then. The main issue will be keeping her aggression in check. She clearly has no qualms about putting criminals down hard, and the fact that she seems so enamored with personal amusement is concerning. I’ll agree to her requests, so long as she has a Protectorate member on her patrols. I don’t want her having undue influence over her fellow Wards. I’ll increase the Counselling rotation for your department as well, I want professional eyes on this.” Costa-Brown agreed, ignoring the stir that came with the final sentence. Parahuman Counsellors were extremely rare, both by lack of interest in a dangerous field (setting off a Parahuman’s emotional and psychological issues by digging into their heads was, for obvious reasons, not the safest thing in the world) and by the rigorous standards and procedures required. They had tried to expand the support base in the past, with the parahumans wearing their masks to hide their identities, but it had been measurably less effective.

Evidently, counselling someone was hard to do when they were quite literally hiding behind a mask, a mask that most of them had put on as a way to escape their problems in the first place. Who would have thought it?

At any rate, there were never enough Counsellors to go around and requests for an increased allotment of their time had always been uniformly rejected without deliberation or hesitation. For the Chief Director to voluntarily and without a prompting do so for the ENE Division told everyone in the room exactly how seriously she was taking this situation.

“Emily, I want you to perform testing on the substance involved in Herald’s interview. Thinkers are in agreement that she was being honest about it being beneficial, which means it might have some sort of modifications to it, or perhaps that it is a mixture of some kind. If it’s useful, good, if it’s some esoteric cousin of marijuana we don’t need to waste our time with it.”

Piggot stiffened at the word ‘modifications’, her ‘biotinkers are evil’ senses tingling instinctively, but she bit her tongue. It seemed absurd that Hebert would be one of the rarest possible capes anda grab-bag at the same time, but even if it was possible, she would wait for confirmation. Besides, as the Chief Director had said, there would be a lot of eyes on the girl. If she went too far, it would get noticed long before she could recreate Ellisburg.

“Understood, Chief Director. I’ll make sure that Armsmaster knows it is a high-priority.” She acquiesced, and Costa-Brown regarded the room contemplatively before ending the meeting and vanishing from her screen. One by one the others disappeared, until it was only herself at Tagg, who was staring at her intently. Frowning at him, she raised a brow. “What do you want, James? If you have some sort of dire warning or advice to pass on, please keep it to yourself. I’m already well aware of how poorly this situation can go, but I’m not going to browbeat her into moving out to your Division for your ‘education’ programs.”

“You might end up regretting that, Emily. Keep her under control, or you might find your city getting pulled out from under you.” He warned her (or was it a threat?) before cutting his own feed, leaving her alone.

Was she letting her desperation for heroic help in the city get the best of her? God knew that she was desperate. The Empire alone outnumbered the heroes of Brockton Bay, regardless of their status (vigilante, independent, etc.), and Lung had taken on the entirety of the ENE Protectorate and won when he had first arrived in the city. New Wave wasn’t as involved as they used to be. Laserdream and Shielder were preparing for collage, the adults all had their own careers and parenting to take up their time, Panacea was a Healer, and Glory Girl was (charitably) a loose cannon. A useful one, and one that she would admit was wholeheartedly devoted to heroism, but the girl’s definitions of heroism and villains had no nuance or contextual shift to them. Absolutism was honestly just as dangerous as anarchy.

Still, she didn’t think she was letting desperation push her into signing up a ticking time bomb, or at least not one who was more so than any other parahuman. She had already resolved to keep a close eye on Hebert, to have the Wards and Protectorate members watching her, and now there would be professional shrinks watching her. Hardly an uncontrolled situation! This was far from her first rodeo, and it certainly wasn’t going to be her last, whatever Tagg seemed to think about her ability. No, she wouldn’t be reactionary about this, she would wait and see what Hebert did before making any decisive moves in either direction.

Emily Piggot hadn’t made it as far as she had in the Strike Teams because she had been impatient and foolish, and she wasn’t about to dive headfirst into stupidity now.

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It was another beautiful night in Brockton Bay, with shining stars and a crisp, clean breeze swept in off the Bay itself, the gentle sound of the shifting tides soothing in their rhythmic sway. It was easy to forget that somewhere around them, at this very moment, crimes were occurring. Muggings, beatings, harassment, lootings, drug dealings and forced prostitution. Even rape and murder were all too common place here, no matter how hard the ‘forces of Good’ tried.

The young woman leaning against the seaward railing of the Bradford B. Brockton Memorial Park was a beautiful one, one that would normally be considered a target for her looks, her nationality, or both (depending on what criminals stumbled across her) acknowledged it without concern. She had no reason to fear, either in the short or the long term, because she was secure in the knowledge that the city would be purged of its infection soon enough. Those that wanted to live in a better world would follow the example that would be placed before them, and those that would resist or inhibit that change would find themselves eradicated, driven out. Chaff before the flail.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it, Karandras?” a familiar and loved voice spoke softly behind her, and she turned her head as one of her sisters stepped up besides her to lean against the railing. They must have been quite the sight, two tall and athletic girls dressed in armor that looked far too delicate to shrug off direct hits from modern anti-tank weapons. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

“Oh? What flattery, Jain Zar!” Karandras faux-gasped, placing a hand to her cheek like a blushing maiden, eyes gleaming with amusement as she regarded the other girl. “So, what is it that you want from me tonight, hmm?”

“You wound me, sister. Why must you forever think that I want something from you? Perhaps I simply wish to compliment you and enjoy your company?” Jain Zar pouted, drawing little circles on the railing with a finger. Karandras merely raised an eyebrow, and was rewarded with a gusty sigh and a groan of disappointment. “Fine, don’t accept a perfectly legitimate compliment. See if I ever help you come up with a new routine again! And after the last one went over so well, too!”

“A routine is nothing without the requisite grace, flair, and poise to carry it out.” Karandras tossed her dark hair with a superior smirk, and her companion scoffed dramatically and flapped a hand in dismissal of her point, getting a shove in return. They chuckled softly for a long moment before Karandras turned to face Jain Zar directly. “All joking aside, what’s up? I figured you would be out helping to finish off the Merchants, not water-watching with me.”

“The Merchant’s are finished, except for the shouting. No reason to bother slapping around what’s left of them. The dregs of the dregs, not worth my time. Law enforcement will mop them up without our help.” Jain Zar shook her head, crimson hair swirling slightly with the motion, a deeply thoughtful look on her face. “I wanted to ask you about everything that’s happened, that ishappening, what will happen. We’ve seen the skeins, learned her wisdoms, but I still worry. I worry about our sisters, I worry about our friends, I worry about our families. I worry about the memories that came with her gifts, and how they are changing us.”

“If you’re worried about the armour Mastering us, I wouldn’t be. After all, how many people follow her without being able to wear the armor of a Tuisich Novasmair? We have sisters in arms, yes, and brothers too, but our sistersare few and far between. She has no need to twist our minds, Emma. Besides, unless she Mastered us when she was still a child, you and I at least are safe!” Karandras lay a hand on the other girl’s shoulder reassuringly, squeezing gently. The use of her fellow’s real name underlined her seriousness, and it wasn’t as if anyone was near enough to overhear them. Sneaking up on two Pheonix Lords, even young ones still growing into themselves, wasn’t something ninety-nine percent of humanity could manage. “I won’t say that we aren’t changing somewhat, that we aren’t influenced by the things we’ve seen and learned, but so what? Change isn’t bad, and this change will let us save the world. Aren’t we so much more than we used to be, what we could have been? Aren’t you glad you won’t experience that future that she showed us?”

“Of course I am!” Emma snapped defensively, glaring with an anger that was at least partly shame and confusion, folding her arms and squaring her jaw sharply. It wasn’t a surprise to Karandras, of course, given that she and Emma had probably had the worst natures out of those currently serving their Mistress, something that the fire-haired teen still had something of a complex over despite Taylor’s reassurances. At least she wouldn’t have been a mass-murdering lunatic, just a back-stabbing Queen Bee bitch that would have turned out fine if her father had actually been a father and gotten her some goddamn counselling.

Yes, it was safe to say the Alan Barnes of that no-longer-possible future was not a popular man amongst the Ynnari.

“Then stop worrying about it. If you can’t do that, stop tearing yourself apart over it.” Karandras advised, heartfelt. “I was going to be a monster fit for the Birdcage, released only to be used as an attack dog in a desperate and hopeless battle. When I lost everything, when I was going to just give in to my hate, do you know what happened?”

“A preschooler randomly showed up in front of you?” Emma said dryly, her question just as rhetorical as Karandras’ own, more a statement than anything else. Karandras nodded, dark eyes darker still with emotion.

“Yes. A four-year-old girl appeared in a flash of light and greeted me by name. She told me my fate, told me of Zion’s threat, told me of the Corpse-Garden and Cauldron. The nature of powers, the cause behind the mindless cruelty of the Endbringers, and what did I do? I laughed in her face. Mocked her for her imagination, doubted her for her youth.” Her voice was tight, her tone shamed, and it was her turn to be comforted by gentle hands. “She showed me the truth, then. I couldn’t deny it any longer, I couldn’t ignore her sincerity or lie to myself. I was a pathetic wreck when the visions ended, sobbing and feeling the damning weight of my ancestors condemning me. I begged her to tell me why she would want someone like me, someone who could do all those things. I asked her how we could possibly win against such a monstrous creature as Zion. What did she say?”

“’She who sees her own doom can better avoid its path. She who sees the doom of others can deliver it.’” The two said together, the words engraved on their hearts and minds. How could they not be, when they had been delivered by the person most precious to them at the moment of their greatest despair?

“So I swore myself to a girl a decade my junior, took up a new name and a new purpose in a new home.” She concluded, tilting Emma’s face up until their eyes met squarely. “Keep to the faith, Emma, and be kept in turn. Don’t ignore your questions, your struggles, but don’t let them consume you either. We all question ourselves, our worthiness, but we strive to prove ourselves worthy. Keep doing that, every day, and you’ll find your peace of mind. And if you ever need to talk, come find me.”

With that, the young woman that bore the mantle of Pheonix Lord of the Striking Scorpions vanished into the shadows, leaving Emma alone in a silence just as contemplative as the one she had interrupted. She wasn’t all that sure that any of her worries and doubts and been assuaged in any way by that conversation, not yet, but it might be a start. And it seemed she wasn’t the only one who still struggled with the dual nature which they who ranked highest amongst the Ynnari struggled with.

“It looks like I’m not the only one still looking for peace of mind, Kaiya.” She murmured to the endless waves of the Atlantic Ocean, before flickering into away with inhuman speed, leaving the waves to continue their endless cycle of soothing motion.

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I apologize for the delay, but my father died last week. Evidently, when the rest of the family went on vacation, he decided to just stop taking his insulin. At any rate, I am able to write once more, if not to my usual standard, for which I apologize.