5

5.0 – Arrangements

The chaos that had died down as the fighting stopped had picked up again when the PRT arrived. Men piled out of the vans, half clad in riot-style armour and half carrying guns that you knew to be containment foam; the go-to PRT tool for keeping capes under wraps. You weren't sure how well it would work on shakers like Kaiser or Iron Rain, or how it worked, but apparently it did.

Thinking back to the image of Kaiser's broken body on the ground, you wondered if they would even need it. If you were in his position, you'd be asking for sedation and not to be woken up until the healing was over.

Watching them mill about was exhausting. After your adrenaline had dumped out of your system, you'd been left feeling hollowed out and the only things you could sense were a dull hunger, a few aches from where you had probably pushed your body a little awkwardly in the fight, and the feeling of the blackness that was in the back of your head – apparently, all over your head, if the PRT's scans had any relevance – pulsing dully. You couldn't quite put a name on the feeling it was giving off, but there was a distant thing that felt a little bit like concern if you looked at it sideways. Perhaps some worry, but with some optimism. It was hard to interpret, and the longer you focused on it the more your head began swimming.

You watched as the PRT squad hosed down Krieg in containment foam, leaving his head exposed and lifting him carefully on to a stretcher before loading him into the back of a van. You hadn't noticed how much he was bleeding before, and while you were sure that he wasn't in danger of death or anything like that, he still looked on the wrong side of healthy.

Skýla, the one who had done it to him, had shrunk down most of the way. Still standing roughly the same height as Armsmaster, and with vicious claws and bony ridges across most of her body, she looked like a classic movie werewolf crossed with the Creature from the Black Lagoon. You wondered how people even got powers like that, but immediately realised how absurd the question was coming from someone with a mix-and-match list of powers like your own. How was the snake thing any better?

She looked pretty much unharmed though, which set your mind partly at ease. A few thin streams of blood coated her but she was moving easily and you weren't even sure the blood was her own. You were grateful for it; you didn't have many friends, and Skýla being one of them meant that you weren't sure what you would do if she had been truly hurt.

Absently, your brain reminded you of your other friend and if you had the energy you would have let out a curse. You hadn't told Vicky.

Of course, you had no chance to tell her either, which lessened the guilt. While she had been insistent on being included the next time something happened, you felt that if she had been given the choice you had – between placing a phone call or stopping Purity going on a rampage – she would have made the same decision.

That was what you were going to tell her, anyway, if she was actually angry.

You'd message her when all of this was over and you were home, or at least on the way there. Getting your phone out to place a call felt like very much the wrong move to make at that precise moment in time.

Armsmaster, still stood a short distance from you – the same spot he had told you good job, you dimly recalled, inordinately pleased by it – and giving him another once over you took in more detail.

Noticing that his suit was damaged was one thing. Anyone could do that. But the longer you looked the more you realised exactly how damaged it was. Thin scratches and pitting coated the material, something you could only assume was the result of Night's scrabbling claws – or limbs, or teeth, or whatever they had been. Perhaps all of the above.

Punctures ran in a parallel arc across his shoulder, as though as maw with twin rows of teeth had seized him and bitten deep, and you could see blood leaking out from one of them; Night must have gotten all the way through in perhaps one of the thinner parts of the armour. Something for Armsmaster to improve on his next iteration. How you knew he would be making a new iteration instead of just patching up the old suit, you couldn't quite say, but it was clear to you nonetheless.

Turning away, you scanned everyone else again to see if you had missed anything else the first time. Most if it was fine. Dauntless had a thin slice down the outside of his right forearm; you assumed that he hadn't quite angled the lance correctly the deflect some metal and had been scraped for his troubles. Iron Rain's coat, which you had previously noted for scorch marks, also had several bullet holes in it – Miss Militia's work, no doubt. You remembered seeing the shattered remnants of Krieg's gas mask and recognised her irritant fire well.

'Penumbra?'

The voice startled you and you turned, exhaling deeply when you saw Armsmaster. If he did that again you felt that you might have had a heart attack. You needed a rest.

'Yes, sir?'

'Do you remember where you put Othala and the others?'

Covered by the helmet, you didn't bother to fight the blush.

How had you forgotten? In the mess of everything that had happened, you had entirely forgotten about them. It wasn't something you were proud of, but you had to be honest with yourself; a pitiful Empire cape and two harmless children were hardly in the forefront of your mind given the events of the last hour. Had it even been that long?

Recalling the steely coating on Theo's hands, you weren't even sure if harmless was the right word. He'd punched a hole through Kaiser's metal dome as easily as Purity's final attack had erased his arm and – you cut yourself off. Not thinking about that again. The image kept trying to return but you were adamant on pushing it away.

'Yeah, I remember.'

Your voice came out dull and quiet. Not how you preferred it.

'Are you able to retrieve them?'

'Yeah. I can do that, of course.'

Nothing about that sounded as confident as you would have liked but you weren't going to make it worse by trying to say something bold to follow it up. Instead, you just paused for a moment, taking in Armsmaster's commanding presence – he looked as though he could fight Night another dozen times, and you wondered if that came with experience or if he was just that unflappable. Even as a small collection of fraying wires emerged from a particularly deep gouge on his vambrace, his aura felt unchanged. You wondered at how fine the wires were. Would his next design go even more minute?

You wondered how he managed to keep all of that in his head – the complexity of his designs, the intricacies of his armour. You wondered what might be the next step in his development; perhaps something even more densely featured. Always packing more into the same space, or squeezing a design down by even just ten per cent more. From what you knew, that was how he usually worked. Every time there was a major battle, he had something new to show for it, and you couldn't help but be impressed. In his own way, he had continued assembling powers just like you – but without any of the unfair advantages. Just his grit and ingenuity. Always adding one small piece that took things to another level. One of the top parahumans in the Protectorate for a reason, you thought to yourself.

Then you took off.

When you touched down on the rooftop, all three of them were still there, and they were muttering among themselves. Othala was sat, with Aster tucked to her chest, and Theo was stood next to her. They turned in almost perfect synchronicity when you landed.

'Fighting is over. We're going back.'

Try as you might, the command that you had in your voice earlier had dropped away a little and it felt less like a demand and more like an explanation. Which meant it was open to question.

'What happened?'

Theo's voice was a touch stronger than it had been earlier, in contrast. As though some time away from the danger had let him gather himself.

'The Empire has been routed. There will be no Empire left in Brockton Bay, after this afternoon. Hard to say beyond that, there are things that aren't obvious.'

'What kind of things?'

'Is everyone alright?'

Othala spoke up at the same time, and their voices were surprisingly similar in pitch. It took a moment for you to parse the words separately, but you did so without too much trouble.

'No. Krieg is hurt, Iron Rain probably broke something, and Kaiser is,' you paused. 'Not doing very well.'

Othala gasped as though struck, and you could see a tear in her exposed eye. The other, tucked away behind an eyepatch, made you wonder whether she actually needed it or whether it was a form of disguise. See through from the inside, perhaps – your helmet worked on a similar technology. From the outside it was as opaque as stone but from the inside it barely existed other than a thin frame around the very periphery of your vision.

'And Purity?'

Theo, by comparison, looked far less upset. You wondered why; Kaiser was his father, you thought, at least from what Purity had been saying. You'd have expected some kind of emotional reaction, though you figured it was always possible that the man had just been that bad as a father.

'Last I saw of her, she was okay. Tired, but not hurt.'

Theo's posture softened and you wondered whether he held something of a soft spot for her, despite her apparently disregard for him. You'd noticed Purity's general lack of regard for him almost every time she spoke, and you couldn't imagine it was news to the teen as well.

Either way, something for someone else who actually knew what they were doing to handle.

'We're heading back.'

Theo moved towards you, as though ready to get off the rooftop, but Othala hesitated.

'What are they going to do with me?'

You realised that giving someone a raised eyebrow through the helmet had very little outward effect but it made you feel slightly better to do it anyway, so you did.

'I imagine you're probably going to be arrested. Questioned at the very least. You already broke out of prison once.'

What skin she had exposed paled, something you weren't sure was possible, but she didn't protest further. Following Theo along, you scooped the two of them up before checking that Aster was still secure to Othala's chest. Noting that she was, bright eyes wide open, you pushed off the roof and made the short flight back to the scenes of chaos.

Once there, you brought the two of them to the cluster of individuals stood together near a large PRT van. Armsmaster was there, as expected, but Miss Militia had also emerged from her sniping spot down the road to join in the administration of affairs and to your surprise, a roughly masked Purity was stood next to them with body language that seemed halfway between contrite and obstinate; an uneasy alliance.

The moment she saw you, she burst into action.

Rushing over, she essentially shoulder you out of the way and reached eagerly for the bundle in Othala's arms, seizing the child away from the teenage cape.

'Get your hands off my daughter, you. . .' Purity's voice dropped away, as though there were nothing in her vocabulary sufficient to fill the gap left by her rage and indignation.

Somewhere inside, you wanted to point out that the odds of it being Othala herself who actually took the child were relatively low; Empire strategy rarely saw the Trump out on her own, she was far too valuable to them in the majority of circumstances. You were not, however, eager to enter an argument over something that you only vaguely cared about and was, in any case, ultimately without consequence; your head was still pulsing – not with a thinker headache but with the activity of the void, and you weren't sure why.

'You may hold her for now, but you will have to be separated when you're brought in.' Armsmaster said, snapping Purity's head up. With her mousy brown hair askew, she looked like a manic hedgehog.

'Brought in?'

Her voice was quiet and set back in her throat, as though she knew the meaning but was having difficulty placing it in context. After only a moment, she cleared her throat and nodded. They must have already spoken about the details; there was no universe in which Purity could get away with what she had done. Even if he was a villain, she'd nearly killed Kaiser and he had no kill order in place – at least not in your knowledge – and the destruction of property she'd committed alone ensured that even if she had zero criminal history at all, the powers that be would want to speak to her. And unfortunately for her, she did have a criminal history.

'What's going to happen to her?'

Your voice came out hoarse, and you took a moment to swallow the coagulated blood in your mouth. Fog's smoke may not have been able to do the damage to you that it might have done to someone else, but you still had open sores along the inside of your respiratory tract and breathing was tight. Perhaps flight was more exertion than you were ready for, being getting it looked at.

'Othala,' Miss Militia spoke, her voice soft but uncompromising. 'Would you please grant Penumbra some regenerative power? She was caught in Fog's cloud.'

Posed as a question, there was no misinterpreting things; Miss Militia was not offering something that the villain could refuse without causing drama and trouble for herself, and so she meekly acquiesced. You got the feeling that she was quite used to being told what to do.

Unlike your own boosting power, Othala didn't need to touch your skin directly, and after she brushed her hand along your arm you could feel the slow movement of flesh knitting itself back together all along your throat and mouth. Words couldn't quite capture the surreality of the sensation; halfway between pop rocks fizzing and the grimacing sourness of lemon juice.

It was almost pleasant, if it weren't for the sensation of blood drying up and then crackling free in small flakes along the inside of your throat. Suppressing a cough was the most you could manage.

'Thank you.'

Othala looked surprised, but nodded in a small motion, a single eye widened.

Honestly, she was acting as if you had threatened to punch a hole in her chest. You weren't entirely sure what you had done to justify the level of fear, at least, not sure what you had done beyond simply exist as an enemy cape. She didn't seem to have the same level of nervousness about Miss Militia, and she was equally as capable of killing someone if she had her mind to it.

'Did something happen?'

Purity's voice sounded light, but curious. She was looking down at Aster with her brow furrowed, and confusion writ in her eyes.

'What do you mean?'

'To Aster, did something happen to her? Is she alright?'

Her furious eyes locked on Othala. 'Did you do something to her?'

White flickered across her features and she rose half an inch off the ground, and you sighed, before reaching out and placing your hand on her shoulder, forcing her back to her feet. She squirmed, but your grip was unbreakable.

The moment was still, until you moved it.

'Well, did you?'

Othala shook her head, hair moving widely with the animated motion.

'Bullshit, she isn't doing anything! She's not even crying she's just,' searching for the word, 'looking. Off. Not even at me!'

A hysterical note coloured the older woman's voice, and you stepped in to take a closer look. Miss Militia did the same, you noted, though from the opposite side.

While you couldn't speak to Aster's usual state, the reality was that Purity had something of a point. Getting a better look in decent light, the child looked to be maybe a year old at the most, but hadn't cried since you had removed them from the dome, and her eyes – while looking entirely healthy and present – did appear a little unfocused. As though she was looking off at something that was entirely too close, despite there being only air between her lashes and the heavens.

'We'll get her looked at,' Miss Militia said. 'Come back with us, to headquarters. You need to be interviewed anyway, and we can have medical staff look at her while we talk. We can even stay in the same room, at least for some of it.'

The veteran cape took over, and you released your grip from Purity's shoulder; Othala seemed to be desperate to create the smallest silhouette possible, and you were happy to leave her to it. Armsmaster was there, and he could overcome any kind of escape attempt she made – probably even if he wasn't wearing the armour in the first place. Othala's power was entirely giving. She had nothing to herself.

Miss Militia led the panicked mother away, and you watched them go.

'What's going to happen to her?'

Theo asked nobody in particular. Oh, you remembered. Nobody had answered you. Apparently getting your throat fixed was more important.

'Depends on whether she co-operates or not. We won't know until later.' Armsmaster responded, relieving you of the responsibility of handling things. Theo probably needed some support – things were upheaving, to say the least – and you thought that you might check on him in a day or two, but for that precise moment you felt as though you were just as likely to make things worse than to help.

'You'll need to come back to headquarters too,' the older tinker continued. 'Just so that we can get your statement. Come.'

He started moving and both you and Theo followed.

Debrief didn't last long, and you handed over responsibility for almost everything to your senior officers. You checked on Rachel, but she seemed tired too – desperate to return to her nest of blankets and pillows.

You could feel your head still beating with your heart, and you were ready for bed. Trudging through some sign off paperwork and explaining your reasoning – as best you remembered it through the fog of fatigue – to a visually implacable Director Piggot was done on autopilot. Armsmaster added some detail but you didn't commit it to memory, instead eager to update Vicky and see your own house again.

It was strange, having such a heavy day with so much done and yet, as you left the foyer you noted that it wasn't even yet five in the afternoon. The sun was still up, and there were questions as to whether Dad would even have made it home yet when you arrived, even with the ongoing reductions to his work schedule.

He had been, as it turned out.

You had flown home in a meandering line, taking a route low to the rooftops and ambling like a heavy bumblebee between the taller peaks that rose up into the sky. Most days, you would have jetted through at a higher altitude but the idea of rushing anywhere felt like a recipe for disaster; you could seen an inadvertent recreation of the hole the twins had made when they had launched you through the apartment block, if you weren't careful.

And so you took your time, and called Vicky on the way home rather than waiting until you were already there.

It picked up after only a single ring.

'Hi Vicky - '

'I saw it on the news. What the hell, Taylor? Why didn't you call me?'

You winced at the combination of her volume and her indignation, and explained the situation as best as you could.

'I was just scouting. We weren't supposed to do anything, it was all about waiting for backup so that the Protectorate could take over. I swear, nothing was planned. But then Purity showed up and started blasting and it's not like I could just ignore it. You would have done the same in my position, and you know it.'

Her silence over the phone was distinctly unimpressed, but you let it sit. The nerves didn't deter you. Vicky was a person of passion and if she was going to yell, she probably already would have done so; you just hoped she wouldn't be quiet angry, either.

'So you're saying there was no other choice?'

'Not really. Not unless I wanted to let her just level half the city.'

A high pitched sound that made you think of air being drawn in through clenched teeth whistled down the phone, and you allowed the quiet to sit again as you soared over another building.

'Okay, I get it. One more though, if there's one more incident where things go down and you don't call me, I'm going to flip. I'll throw you in the ocean or something. You got that?'

You couldn't help it. You snorted, a short laugh surprising even yourself with how forcefully it came out; the image was just comedy. Whether Vicky would be able to or not wasn't even the point, and whether the ocean even represented any kind of real inconvenience to you while in costume was another issue entirely, but the image of yourself being boomeranged into the horizon was the tipping point on a day that already felt too close to incredible to withstand another image.

She laughed too, and the tension fell out of the call quickly.

You were making good time on your journey home, and the call didn't have much time to go elsewhere. Nevertheless, you took the opportunity to ask about her day and make sure she was okay. While Glory Girl got a lot of attention, and you were sure that Vicky got enough at home too, you did always wonder how she held up to being so watched by so many people who knew who she was out of costume but frankly didn't care. It was a strange sort of fame; like an actor who was beloved as a character but that nobody cared about in the street. You couldn't imagine that was too common.

Catching up felt nice, and some of the hollow feeling left; even the chaos of the squirming in your head died down after a little while, and you felt the conversation progress naturally to the elephant in the room.

'I just don't know how she's going to take it, honestly. She comes off as a tough cookie but she's sensitive, really. I don't want to upset her.'

Vicky's concerns over her sister were touching, and you had to admit that you shared them a little too. Amy hadn't gotten off on the best of feet with you, and there was still no roaring camaraderie, but you felt like there had been an uneasy alliance between you established. Something that was solid enough to at least call her an acquaintance, rather than an enemy. You weren't sure whether that was going to survive the confrontation that was scheduled for the next day. You idly wondered whether Amy knew there was something scheduled at all, or whether it was going to be sprung on her as a surprise.

'Are you sure you don't need me there? I can always hang around the area if you want?'

'Honestly, take tomorrow off. Gallant and I will handle it, and you need the rest. I'll call you if something happens that we need help with, okay?'

'Sure, I'll keep it off silent. Let me know if it went well too, though. Just so I don't worry.'

'I will. Gallant's coming over at like, ten in the morning so you'll probably find out by lunchtime. If you don't hear from us by five, come and search for the bodies.'

She laughed at that but you couldn't find the humour in it, and you could tell even her own chuckle was delivered with a grimness to it. You didn't believe that Amy would actually hurt either of them, but you didn't entirely believe that she wouldn't flip out.

People didn't generally react well to being confronted with sensitive stuff like that, even if it was for their own good. Frankly, you didn't think you'd enjoy it either, even if you might be able to recognise weeks or months later that it was for the best.

As you drew home, the conversation petered out and you ended up hanging up just before you got in sight of your own house, having extracted yet another assurance that Vicky would be in touch before the day was out tomorrow. Even you felt paranoid by the end of it, enough that you considered asking a thinker question to see how well things were likely to go, but you brushed the thought away. You'd asked enough that you were considering taking a painkiller, and it was a ridiculous concern anyway.

Vicky could take care of herself, regardless of how well it went, and if there was some emotional fallout you would be there for her. That was the most that would happen – you didn't think Amy even could hurt Vicky, if she wanted to. Gallant maybe, but since they would be in a pair you imagined the worst that could happen was a tantrum and maybe some thrown pillows.

Tucking your cell phone back into your utility belt, you considered the thing. Honestly, it was very inconvenient to have to hold it all the time; you wondered if there might not be some way to build something like it into your helmet, maybe as an addition. There was a comms system already, though it didn't quite work on the same principles phones did, and you were sure that there must be some kind of way to connect the two things together; the phone parts would have to be smaller though, probably. Small enough that they could fit in your helmet without adding anything uncomfortable. A hard ask, as Rhizome's work fit relatively tightly – enough room for some cushion and not to pinch, but snug enough that there was never a possibility of your head rattling around in there.

Pushing the front door open, you noticed that the truck wasn't in the driveway – no Dad.

You took the opportunity for a shower, getting washed up, and when you came back down into the kitchen in your pyjamas, fabric worn thin by use, Dad was just pulling up – you looked at the clock and saw the time. Six fifteen. A late night, by current standards.

The door opened and Dad walked in. Eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and you felt yourself go red. You weren't home that often lately, especially not before he was, but he didn't have to act like it was such an anomaly.

'Hey Dad, missed you.'

'Hey, have a good day?'

'It was okay, hung out with some other Wards, spoke to Vicky, defeated the entire Empire, gave some reports, nothing too crazy.'

'Oh that's good,' he said, putting his bag down on the table. 'It was pretty similar for me too, last minute reports. You know how that can be.'

He continued unpacking, arranging his now empty lunch box – a piece of plain, off-brand Tupperware that contained a piece of foil ready for the trash – alongside his diary, humming a tune spectacularly out of key. Then he stopped, hand in the air.

'The Empire you say?'

'Mhmm.'

'Hmm. I see.'

He had gone red, and you let the idea sink in for a moment. Nothing was forthcoming.

'Anything?'

Nothing, again.

'Dad?'

'Oh, don't mind me. Just trying to figure out when the world went mad.'

You wrapped your arm around his shoulder and squeezed him as gently as you could, still eliciting an audible exhale of air.

'Probably some time around the early eighties, I think.'

He leaned to the side, his head resting atop yours.

'Probably not far wrong there, Taylor. Not far at all.'

Actions Remaining:

- Do First Aid training with the PRT on April 8th

- Try your thinker power on Endbringers (after the Empire is done with)

- Get in touch with Dragon to talk about the Birdcage

- Follow up with Vicky after she and Gallant talk to Amy

- Be in the area for Amy's intervention

- After everything has settled, check on Theo and Aster

- Speak to Theo and find out what he wants

So there we are, the beginning of Arc 5! I had intended to pick this up starting on April 2nd, the day of Amy's intervention, but there were a lot of votes for actions in the immediate aftermath of the Empire clash, so I had to start it there and get through that. Now that's out of the way though and we can get into some new actions. As you can see there's a lot of actions pending - some of which we will do immediately, some of which will have to wait a little. What else do we need to do? Take a look at our goals and consider the options or just come up with new ideas for things you think should fill the next few updates. How does Taylor use her precious last few weeks in Brockton Bay?

Note: Taylor is also a Tinker now, so if you think you have figured out her specialty (or at least have some idea what might get us closer to knowing what it is), please leave your guesses below. You may suggest an action that could lead to pursuing one of these ideas, and if you're right, that will speed Taylor along. Hints were given in this update about what it might be!

No suggested actions today, for the open-ended reasons up above.