Arcanum, Rough 1-3

How one responds to mind-numbing terror can be quite indicative of their character. There was only one thought in Shèn’s skull when every fear chemical her body could produce flooded her system, making it feel like she was standing inches away from a monstrosity, a negligent twitch away from leaving her to drown in her own blood.

Protect the others.

There were no delicate schemas, no filigree of brilliant genius to shape magic with. Only the roar of raw, unbridled aether burning from her breast. The heavy hand of the sky, the crushing pressure of the sea, the unfathomable weight of the earth. Piling down on everyone and everything as the Aethercharge dyed the air green, blue and amber. Boiling out of her body in thick ropes, strands weaving protectively around the patient at her back even as her Ahrimans shone like stars, rising elemental walls against the threat.

It was every scrap of strength in her soul at her fingertips, a rush of power that cleared the senses and sharpened the mind to a razor’s edge.

Esuna’s schema bloomed big and bright over the whole of the reception. The red of trauma, the orange of transformation, the yellow of sensory, the green of freedom, the blue of mind, the indigo of soul, the violet of chemicals.

Not that the wellspring of atavistic fear knew that, having started rushing towards Shèn the moment her aether had asserted itself.

Immediately, Miho was upon the new intruder, aiming a barrage of spells in an effort to force Glory Girl to abort her charge, only to blink in mild surprise as the flying brick managed to trip up at the last moment, running face first into a flurry of elementally aspected Ruins. Ice, fire, and lightning made their mistress’ wroth well known as she stepped between the bystanders and the hostile parahuman, “Stand down! Can’t you see that there are innocents you’re threatening with your actions?!” 

The rainbow of restoration chose that moment to shine down, washing away all ills. The fear was gone, no matter what the flying brick’s Shard felt about it.

“Vicky–” The mousy girl from earlier began, drawing the eye of one of Shèn’s Ahrimans behind the elemental walls. Whatever she wanted to say other than her sister’s name, and wasn’t that resurfacing memory a shock to the system, got drowned out by none other than Glory Girl’s yell.

“Did you just Master everyone?!” The flying brick roared as she rose, surprisingly injured for a supposed Alexandria package. Her costume was singed, even burned away in parts, showing Lichtenberg marks red and raw. Shaking off her injuries with almost admirable persistence, Glory Girl rose back into the air, staring down the people standing between her and Panacea, “Move.”

“I think not.” Miho’s curt reply almost made the situation worse, only for Tattletale to interject with the swiftness of a woman a wrong word away from being turned into chunky paint. 

“Glory Girl, Panacea is safe. She’s back there, with all the rest of the hostages. The ones you are risking by busting into a building filled with hostile parahumans.” The Thinker began shooting both Shèn and Miho a pleading look as she did so. With a silent twitch of the former’s aether, the wall of stone crumbled to sand, leaving only shimmering water and green wind standing. Enough for the hostages to be seen, “As Vista and I were just discussing, the hostages will be free to go the moment she and I finish negotiating. Which we did. Before you came crashing through the window like some idiot with delusions of grandeur.” 

Thankfully, Skitter didn’t add to that provocation… verbally. The swarm had taken the time to crawl in through the broken window and while largely sticking to the ceiling? They weren’t happy.

“Glory Girl. Stand down and get the fuck out the of the active hostage situation before I have to get your mother on the phone.” Like an answer to Tattletale’s silent prayer, Vista added her own two cents to the situation through a megaphone before the irate teenager with more horsepower than a mainline tank could do something deeply unwise in response to that taunt, “Tattletale, as per discussed, you are free to go the moment one of our troopers confirms the hostages are safe. We’ll be sending him in once this situation resolves itself.”

Shèn breathed out a sigh of relief for all she didn’t lower her guard for a moment, sparing just enough attention to command her healing Ahriman to give her visual feed behind her. Grue was fine. On his feet and tense as could be, but fine.

That was all the reprieve they got before Glory Girl did as any emotional teenager would and doubled down. “The one with horns and a tail MASTERED everyone! We have to con-foam her and put everyone in quarantine!”

It took all of four seconds for Vista to respond, “Stand. Down. I won’t ask again, Glory Girl. I’m more than certain I can get the authorization to use force if you refuse to.” A brief pause filled the room, before, once more, the megaphone resounded, “And if dragon-girl did Master everyone in the room, well, I wonder how Tattletale is so fluently conveying all of the things you’re saying to me so well.”

“Speaking of. Tell her I’m happy to go into PRT custody and submit to power testing if that helps clear this clusterfuck. My only condition is that I want to finish fixing up Grue, shouldn’t be five minutes.” The dragon girl in question supplied. Whether it was her moral fiber or her perfectionism, she was loath to let Grue walk out with a lifetime crippling no matter how minor, not when she wasn’t done with him. “I just need a guarantee that–”

“You’re just in cahoots with the Undersiders.” The floating girl accused harshly, “I’m of half-”

“Stand the fuck down before I make you stand down.” Miho snapped, ears flat against her head as her eyes sparked with malicious intent. With a completely unhealthy and frankly terrifying level of cold rage in her voice, the other Arcanist continued her ultimatum, “Trust me, girl, if you want to throw down, just give me the fucking excuse already. I have had it up to fucking here with your immature nonsense. I woke up in unfamiliar surroundings, surrounded by unfamiliar people, away from everything I know and love.”

Breathing deeply, the fox briefly centered herself, aborting her oncoming rant, her eyes remained fixed on Glory Girl as if she was a particularly annoying rabbit that she had grown bored of entertaining, “Shut up, sit down, and let the adults finish talking and I won’t take out a fraction of my rage on you. Continue, and we’ll see just how long it takes me to utterly trash you.”

Shèn threw Tattletale a meaningful look as the fox let loose, glancing at the windows behind the walls of wind and water. The Thinker had seen her Earth Ahriman crumble the stone wall into sand, it didn’t take a superpower to put the pieces together. It did, however, take one to gauge on the spot whether Glory and Miho were liable to start something before the PRT could break this up.

At least she and Grue weren’t in as much danger as could be. Aegis-the-Ahriman had been taking the time to creep closer and closer. The not so little guy was hiding behind the sofa now, ready to spring barriers and healing at a moment’s notice. Between that and the invisible barrier around them, it should be enough to not get a free ticket to the ER the second the flying brick got in melee. 

Tattletale shook her head and that was that for using the Earth Ahriman. There was definitely some self-interest there, but Shèn didn’t feel like ignoring a Thinker’s advice. Which was also why she didn’t voice any objection as the teenage supervillain started to reach for her pistol while Glory Girl was busy having a staring contest with the she-fox. They both knew how the Alexandria Package’s power worked.

“You want an excuse?” The Brute said lowly, a hard edge in her voice. That was everything the dragon needed to hear to command her Ahrimans to shift to self-defense sans for Aegis, who instead built a palisade of shimmering light over her and Grue. Not that she needed have bothered, given that Glory Girl shot straight for Miho, fist drawn back in a picture perfect haymaker. 

This went about as well as you’d expect. First, a gunshot cracked through the room, shattering the flying Cape’s barrier. Second, a downpour of blacklight bolts like someone had turned the rain outside sideways crashed into the parahuman. They may be individually weak, but they were as simplified as Arcanima got, so barrage casting them was easy as breathing. 

Then she got swarmed by bugs.

A second. Five. Fifteen.

Finally, the writhing, chittering mass dispersed. Shèn honestly wasn’t sure if to commend Skitter’s restraint for not doing irreversible damage that she could see or groaning at having to remove god knew how much venom.

The brown haired girl from earlier dashed forward through the walls of wind and water, not even bothering to pretend to be cooperative anymore as she reached Glory Girl’s side. There were a few scattered shouts, but Tattletale shut them down right quick and by that alone Shèn relaxed.

“Vicky you absolute fucking moron,” She muttered harshly, sounding more tired than actually worried; perhaps understandable, given she was Panacea, “Why in the world did you expect that to go any differently?” Pausing as a swarm of bugs vibrated near enough to her to cause concern, she shot Skitter an annoyed look, “All I’m doing is ensuring there’s no lasting damage from Bug over there injecting god only knows how much venom directly into my sister. I’m not stupid enough to try and pull something while surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned, especially with innocents at risk.”

“Thank you, Panakeia.” Shèn didn’t say so much as sigh out, meaning every word. This car pileup of a hostage situation had gone on for long enough already. Still. “Aegis, keep the barrier up in case this godawful day has something else to throw at us. Grue, I don’t even care about you laying down anymore, just stand there and let me work.”

She was well beyond caring what it may look from certain angles as she took a knee to get on eye level with the damage, Physik’s green schema glowing in her hands already. Seeing as the motorcycle and old text game enthusiast didn’t feel like gainsaying her, she got right to work.

“Yītiān de làn shì.” <Translation: Rotten piece of shit of a day> Shèn muttered under her breath, indulging in her grandfather’s language for a moment, “Ugh, I don’t even get to find a dark room and a pillow to faceplant into after this, Lord alone knows what nonsense I signed myself up to with that offer to the PRT.” This time she was running her mouth for her sake rather than Grue’s. Even if there was a bit of both columns, poor guy was trying his best to suppress the twitches as he felt her magic sink into his gut and rearrange things. “Shàngtiān liánmǐn <Translation: heavens above have mercy> on my scaly ass if someone decides me being a healer is a reason to bottom bother me until I join just to make ‘em shut up. I’d rather not have to hold my healing hostage to make some paper pusher with an agenda crawl back into the cesspools of bureaucracy. Ah, Christ, some may get into their soft skulls they have to scare me straight.”

Grue, either due to politeness or awkwardness, didn’t offer anything more than vaguely commiserating grunts. Probably busy watching the proceeds, sounded like Tats and Vista were back on track.

“Oi, Floozy, do you drink?” Shèn said over her shoulder for all her head didn’t do more than tilt, voice just a hair shy of a holler.

“On occasion, but don’t expect to have more than one or two at most.” Miho replied back, the eyeroll communicated perfectly through pitch and inflection alone.

“Fuckin’ A. We’re going to a bar and I’m going to drink thimble glasses and bitch until I find something that doesn’t taste like rubbing alcohol and electrical sockets.” The dragon decided unilaterally. An imperious pat on the most reasonably dressed of the Undersiders and a twirl of her tail and he got the picture, turning over for her to check over his back, one hand holding the Physik and the other a diagnostic schema. “Done and dusted. Do me a favor and use that money for something fun, big guy, that way at least one good thing came out of this shitshow.”

With an amused snort, Grue nodded noncommittally, stretching out as he lumbered over to Tattletale quietly chatting with the Thinker. Shèn’s knife ears could’ve probably made it out if she really strained them, but she couldn’t be arsed.

Especially not with Skitter’s swarm kicking up a fuss again. She had no idea if the girl had already learned how to push her emotions into them or if this was just her voicing her displeasure in a deniable way.

“So! Who wants to hear the good news?” Tattletale interrupted that brewing mess with fifty pounds of smug, even if it was slightly plasticky.

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AN: 

Nihilo: Writer of Shèn here. To head off any misunderstandings at the pass, I will explain really quickly. My maternal grandfather is a Chinese immigrant. He tried to teach me some of his mothertongue and even calligraphy when I was a kid. I was an hyperactive PoS and that didn’t go anywhere. I’m going to fudge things and say that for my SI, this wasn’t the case, and thus Shèn is fully fluent as that’s more interesting. However, I don’t exactly have my grandpa around for checking translations and sayings anymore, so I’m just using google translate.

I’m trusting you lot to not act like twitterinas, okay?

Miho: While “Miho” won’t exactly be making use of judicious Japanese, as while it is one of my two mother-tongues, I haven’t spoken it in an immersive environment in ages. There will be times in the story, however, that Miho does think and speak in Japanese, as there are moods I get into where I feel especially nostalgic and revert to it for a bit. For an authentic SI experience, Miho will only speak and think in somewhat fluently broken Japanese. If you don’t know what I mean by that, talk to a 2nd grader from Japan who hasn’t been in Japan for ages but still remembers a good portion of what she learned, and you’ll get an approximate experience.