1.3. Fledgling
Monday January 10th 2011, 1:30 AM, Taylor's Haven
I was back in Haven, but my work for the night was nowhere close to done. In fact, it had barely begun. And I couldn't even begin with the workshop yet – not if I wanted to get it done soon.
I grabbed the bowl with ruby dust from yesterday and held it on my left hand, while my right wielded the wooden eagle I had crafted. A spell dumped two piles of snow in front of me. Centering myself, I took a breath and brought to mind the effect I wanted to create.
It felt somewhat horrible: I was about to create life (or a facsimile of it) for the sake of making them help me achieve my target of becoming a hero, because they were intended to stay here to craft the magical objects I would need in order to survive. I just hoped that my good intentions would not put me on the road to hell.
"Grant life to my creation," I stated, waving my holy symbol in the air as it shone. The ruby dust flew out of the bowl and over one of the snow piles before vanishing in a red fire, as I went over what I needed: the memories Habristiel had granted me of her husband, Marcus. How he looked, how he worked. His ability as a wizard, his skill with tools when he crafted an object. Even the residual of Habristiel's feelings that I had felt through my dreams. I was going to create an imitation of a person that had only existed in another universe, one that had never seen Capes nor Endbringers, but magic and monsters.
In seconds, the pile of snow rose and began to take form. First, it looked like a snow man. Then, the snow flowed to become arms and legs, and then hands and feet. The head's undefined features transformed and turned into a face, ears and hair. Everything below the neck turned into something akin to clothes. And, finally, the pure white it had started as became tan, red, blue, and a myriad of other colors. Where only snow had been, now stood a person.
I immediately noticed that I had not done a good job. To someone that did not know him, or that had just crossed paths with him, he could have passed as the real deal. To someone that knew him well enough, there were enough imperfections and differences that they would have noticed it was not him. Plus... there was something about his appearance, his presence, that set off something. It might be knowing that he was not actually human.
At least, he had clothes on. It would have been very embarrassing if he had been naked after I created him.
"Mistress?" the simulacrum – Marcus – asked, clearly worried. He was sentient, alright. He might not have all of the real Marcus' memories, though, but at least he could act like it.
"Sorry, I was just lost in my thoughts. Are you ready to help me with my projects?"
"Of course, Mistress! You created me to help you, after all."
Great. Awkward. I am certain he means well, but I cannot help but feel bad that his positive feelings towards me come from the spell I used to bring life to him. But complaining about it was not going to give me an automated line that could craft what I wanted without input. And I still had to do this a second time.
Turning to the second pile of snow, I repeated the spell. I noticed that the ruby dust had almost run out, but it was well worth it, particularly as I replicated another individual: myself. If only with a few differences in terms of skills and knowledge when compared to me, which would be useful in the future.
Magic was awesome. And kind of bullshit.
A few seconds later, an exact copy of myself was standing before me, wearing the same clothes I had, which I was doubly grateful for (yes, it was technically my body, but that did not make it less awkward).
"Are you well, Mistress?" my clone asked, confused. I was a bit surprised that I actually sounded like that.
"Don't worry, it's just the shock of seeing you. We're starting our work now, time is of the essence."
"Very well, Mistress. What should be my name? I look like you, but it would be confusing if you kept referring to me by your own name."
"Mom's middle name was Rose, I think she would have no problem with you being named after her."
"It would be an honor to be named after your mother, Mistress."
That feeling I got from Marcus earlier? Double that, and that was what I felt from hearing myself saying that. However, I shook off the feeling: it was not Rose's fault that I had it, and it amounted to making a mountain out of a molehill. Plus, I had to begin to work on my project.
Between Marcus, Rose, and I, we pulled what we would not need out of the pile of steel, scrap and other objects I had brought from the Graveyard. The steel itself I split off, putting it in several piles of different sizes, based on what they would become. I flexed my power and transformed the steel piles into the basic elements of my workshop: an alchemy stand, a workbench, a forge, an anvil, and several sets of high-quality tools.
Bringing out the other materials I had fabricated (such as diamond dust, gold thread or oils), the three of us began to work on the arduous process of turning the reformed steel into the wondrous objects they were meant to be. Runes and other symbols were scratched on the surface, and ingredients applied as needed over them.
As I worked, I went over the full power I had been granted by Habristiel – and how other people would react to it. My research on the PRT and the Protectorate had let me learn that they used something called 'threat levels' to label a Parahuman's powers and the appropriate response to their actions, following twelve categories.
By my own estimation, I merited a rating in all twelve categories. Just my newfound natural stamina and resistance to injury made me a Brute. All the objects I knew how to craft merited a Tinker rating. My short-range teleport trick was Mover. My skills with weapons possibly ranked as Striker. And the large number of spells I knew how to cast covered everything.
Seriously, if this were a story, people would think I was overpowered. Then again, maybe I was – as surprising as it may sound, most Parahumans were nowhere close to what Habristiel and her friends fought. The only thing I needed now was experience in knowing how to fight with my powers without, you know, killing people.
For Habristiel's group, death was an unfortunate part of what they had to deal with. Many enemies fought to death, others were just too far gone for them to consider surrendering, and more were just so alien and dangerous that no one in their right mind would believe giving them the option was a good idea.
In my case, though, it was not feasible. Save for very exceptional cases, even villains who thought nothing of killing, selling drugs, forcing women into prostitution, and a myriad of other crimes, were owed due process of law, and they could only be sent to prison. That is, unless they went so far that they earned a Kill Order.
But, right now, that remained in the future. Because I needed to debut before starting to consider that kind of situation. And that led to other thing: my image.
The first half, the costume, was going to be easy: the armor to cover my body, trousers and boots made of good leather, a helmet to cover my face, a pair of gloves – and a cape. A winged cape. That was going to be a given.
The second half of debuting as a hero was a name. A cape's name was akin to a presentation card, and if you were not careful you could get saddled with something no one could take seriously. On one side, there were people like Alexandria, who had named herself after the Library to underline her Thinker power, even though she was mostly known for her flight, invulnerability, and super-strength – the so-called 'Alexandria package'. On the other side, there were capes like Chubster, a Los Angeles Protectorate hero whose name was widely mocked in PHO, although, according to some people, it was a name he had picked himself.
But, before that could happen, I had to craft my gear. Fortunately, we were able to finish working on the workshop, which was now surprisingly polished and clean, almost as if it had just come out of the factory. However, that was not the most important feature: once I burned a spell scroll in the merry fire within the forge, I would be able to use that spell for anything that was crafted in this workshop. And I was going to make a scroll that would embody the most powerful spell a cleric could wield, the Miracle.
While, even with Marcus' help, I was unable to finish before I hit the limit, the scroll was halfway done, which I considered a success. I finished the night by using the rest of my power to create the materials I would need for the next round of crafting, and I opened a Gate to my room. Before closing, though, I picked some of my books from the shelves and handed them over to Rose, so she and Marcus could enjoy them as best as they could in the meantime.
I would have to see about getting more things the two of them could use for entertainment. Just a few books would likely not be enough. Maybe a chess set?
With two hours ahead at home, I just meditated, picked my spells for the day, and created two ingots of very particular metals that I was going to need for my equipment.
By the time Dad was waking up, I was preparing breakfast, getting ready for a day that, depending on what else happened, might actually get a tad too long.
Considering this town, something weird was likely to happen.
9:37 AM, Brockton Bay Police Department, Brockton Bay, New Hampshire, United States of America, Earth Bet
"Good morning, Mr Hebert, Miss Hebert. I'm Detective Jacobs, the person in charge of the investigation on the attack on you."
I supposed it may have been somewhat influenced by years of watching certain movies and series, but Detective Jacobs did not fit the idea I had on what a detective should look like.
He was slightly shorter than me, quite on the thin side and of ambiguous ascendancy – if going by his tan skin, which might put him anywhere between light-skinned Afroamerican and Hispanic. Nonetheless, he had an air of quiet competence that felt reassuring, and he was likely stronger than he seemed.
"Thank you for receiving us," Dad said.
"I'm glad you were able to return home from the hospital, Miss Hebert. Considering what I read, it is a miracle that you managed to recover this early." He pulled out a voice recorder and placed it on the table, clicking on the 'record' button. "This is Monday, January the tenth, at 9:38 AM. I am Detective Raymond Jacobs of the Brockton Bay Police Department, and I am about to interview Miss Taylor Hebert, accompanied by her father Mr Daniel Hebert, in regards to the events that took place the past January the third in Winslow High School, between 8:50 AM and 3:43 PM, as described in Investigation 3598765. Miss Hebert, please begin by describing the timeline of the events."
Slowly, I told the detective what had happened last week, in the first day of classes after Christmas. I was able to maintain a certain level of detachment, which I guessed was good, because I could have just as easily become hysterical when trying to explain everything from that morning, as well as how I could have died in there. Dad managed to remain relatively calm about it, even if there were a few moments in which I feared he might actually try to find the three bitches and put them through the same thing I had suffered.
"That fits with what we have found," Jacobs said. "While there is still work for us to do, the proof we have is enough to continue our investigation. Now, was this an isolated event?"
"No, sir."
"Did something similar happen before?"
"Not... exactly. The three people I believe to be behind this last attack had never done anything like this, but by no means was the only thing they did. Ever since I began attending Winslow High School, they have been bullying me on a daily basis."
"Do you have anything that can prove this? Not that I don't believe you, but unfortunately witnesses might not be enough for a successful investigation."
"I... well, I have this," I replied, handing him the bully diary.
"Jesus Christ, this is huge. What is it?"
"An account of everything they have done to me since November 2009, and the only reason the stuff from the previous months isn't there is because I had expected the teachers would actually get off their asses and do something about it," I stiffly said, trying not to look at Dad, because I knew what his face would be. "I could also grant you access to all the email accounts I had to create because they kept sending so many malicious mails I couldn't keep up."
"I'm certain we can do much with both this book and the content in your accounts." Jacobs passed a few pages and read what I had written so long ago, and I saw him put a brief disgusted face before closing the book again. "If everything is similar to what I just saw, I'd say you would have a good case for a civil lawsuit, but that's up to you two."
"We will consider it," Dad said. It would be something hard, though: a civil lawsuit would require money we did not have (yet), and with Emma on the other side that meant her father Alan would oppose us. And, as far as I knew, Dad still considered him his friend: I really did not look forward to the fallout from that. "Do you know anything about the CDC's investigation?"
"Officially, I can't tell you nothing. Off the record, though, it's still in the air if whoever did this to your daughter will be accused of bioterrorism. Not that the guilty party is going to escape some serious charges if they aren't, what they did could have gone even worse than it did."
"Thank you for telling us, sir," I replied. "Is there anything else we should do?"
"No, not right now. Should we need more information, we'll call you, but until then you should attempt to return to as normal a life as possible."
"I'll... try that. Will you take care of that book?"
"Well, of course. It is now proof in a police investigation. I'll do my best to ensure it is well preserved. And when it is no longer required, you'll be able to do whatever you want to it."
"Thank you."
The detective guided us to the entrance, promising to stay in touch with news before leaving us to our own devices. Dad stayed silent as we got on his old pickup truck, but just before he went to start the car he sighed and leaned his head against the wheel.
"Dad?" I asked, worried. I had figured he would take things badly, but...
"Damnit," he whispered. "Your mother is going to kick my ass when we meet in the afterlife."
I reached out to grab his hand and squeeze it.
"Didn't we already speak about this, Dad? We both messed up when we didn't actually talk with each other. And it's all those three's fault."
"I know, kid. But, hell, it's just... I just got hit again about how bad I've been as a father these past two years. If I had managed to get through it all sooner, I'd have been able to do more."
"If we keep thinking about 'what if's, we'll never actually get through with fixing what's wrong." I gave Dad a one-armed hug. "I know how much it sucks, but the best thing we can do right now is to keep going and get better. Though, I wouldn't say no to seeing those three get their punishment."
Dad gave out a weak chuckle and returned the half-hug for a moment before directing me to putting on the seatbelt and starting the car so he could take me home and then go to work. The traffic at this time was light, so we arrived quite soon.
"What's your plan for today, then?"
"I'll try to study for a while on my own, clean up a bit and maybe go out for a walk. I need to get better, after all."
I felt a bit bad about lying to Dad about this. Not that I was not planning to do all of that, but for implying I needed it to get better: considering the health boost I had received from my powers, I seriously doubted I could get sick at all. Running was just to get back on the hang of things.
"Well, don't overtire yourself, Little Owl. Take a rest if you need it, and call me if there's a problem."
"I will, Dad. Take care of yourself as well, please!"
"Thanks, kid."
11:12 AM, Hebert Family House
When we arrived home, I unhooked the security belt, Dad leaned over to kiss my forehead and waited in the curb until I got in the house safely (at least from his point of view) before he left for work.
The rest of the day went pretty much like I had expected. I cleaned up what little needed to be done – Dad had not spent a lot of time at home these past few days, so there was only some dusting to be done. I began to review the schoolwork I had available, knowing that, sooner or later, I would have to return to schooling. Maybe I could just work on getting a GED? I would have to run that by Dad.
After breaking off for lunch, I decided this was the perfect moment to begin crafting my primary equipment: sword, armor, and shield. I made sure the curtains in my bedroom were closed – no sense in letting everyone see me do this – and then picked up the metal and diamond dust I had already created.
Grabbing a piece of adamantium, I prepared for the first piece: my weapon, the one that would become the symbol of my crusade (so to speak) against criminals. Adamantium being a very tough material that could cut through most anything, meant it was perfect for the task. And, with all the training I had done with Habristiel, I knew I wanted a weapon like the one she had used – its weight, its balance, the sounds it made when cutting through the air, the feeling of deflecting an enemy's attack before countering... that was what run through my mind as I prepared to cast this spell.
"Grant me an armament of this," I said. The diamond dust vanished into a gold light that flew into the piece of adamantium, which began to grow and twist itself in knots before flattening and reaching the appropriate length. Soon, I had in my hands an adamantium bastard sword: it was not exactly crafted by a master blacksmith, but that would change. Right now, all I cared was that it could do its job, and when I tested it, I noted that the balance and weight were correct.
Carefully laying the sword on my bed, this time I picked some mithral. While adamantium was renowned (in Habristiel's world) for being heavy and able to be turned into very sharp weapons, mithral's claim to fame was that it was incredibly light, yet strong enough to resist most strikes – which made it perfect for armors and shields.
First came the shield. The form was important, of course: a balance had to be struck between covering my body and allowing me to move freely. In the end, I picked a heater shield, since I felt it was the best option. Mithral made it lightweight, sturdy, and good for what I needed. Practicing with sword and shield told me that I had the muscle memory, but that I was still not able to wield them with efficiency – just needed some practice.
Making the armor proved to be a bit harder: regardless of my advanced skills, I realized there was always a chance for failure. When the spell was done, the chain mail left behind looked like it had gone a few rounds with a woodchipper. Fortunately, magic came once more to the rescue, and a repairing spell allowed me to turn it into the mithral chainmail I needed.
With everything saved up, I picked up paper and pencil: if I wanted to get everything I needed, I had to plan out the entire process, to be as efficient as possible. I had weeks' worth of work ahead of me, and I wanted to be sure I could meet everything head on.
Tuesday January 11th 2011, 11:50 PM, Taylor's Haven
A few hours later, I was watching the scroll I had written burning in the fires of the forge. This was actually the first I had done as soon as I had entered my Haven, and it was just a matter of time before the scroll was fully consumed, causing the entire workshop to shine with a brilliant light.
Now, every object I crafted, I would be able to use pretty much every spell I could normally cast. That would save me quite a lot of magic that I would be able to channel into other ventures, like obtaining more materials for the future.
"Is it done then, Mistress?" Marcus asked. And no, it had not stopped being weird, being called Mistress.
"Yes, it is."
"Excellent. I am glad we can begin our work. Should we begin with your first accessories, then? We have a good night ahead of us."
"Indeed," I replied. "I think it'll be good to begin with the sleeves. I should be done fast, and it would allow me to wear my armor when outside home."
One thing I had quickly noticed was that, somehow, my ability to craft magical objects was different from Habristiel's. She could only work on one object a day. Which was weird: you could be one hour away from finishing an object, and once you were done the other seven hours went into the dustbin. Meanwhile, I did not have that limitation, so I was able to work faster
"It is a good point to begin with. I do not trust the villains of this world to remain silent for much longer."
"A good choice. I trust not the villains of this world to remain silent for much longer."
"We live in a place the bands have not come around in a long time. I think I'm safe for the moment," I replied.
"Perhaps. But better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it."
I grimaced. That was true, no matter the universe one lived in. Particularly when said universes had multiple deadly threats waiting to pounce on you. So I began to work, and a few minutes later I had two sleeves of thin cloth that made it look like I was wearing any clothes I wanted, while I was actually wearing something else, like my armor.
Of course, it was just an illusion, so, if someone touched me, they would be able to notice the discrepancies. But, on a day-to-day basis, it was perfect.
I spent the rest of the night crafting more objects: a diadem that improved my ability to discern the world, a belt that boosted my endurance, and finally I started on my shield. I had no idea how the former two actually worked, but I chalked it to 'it's magic' instead of breaking my mind attempting to comprehend the mechanisms that made one smarter and hardier just by wearing accessories.
I would be done with the shield tomorrow, and after that it was my armor, my boots, my helmet, the rings... at least a couple of weeks of non-stop work, just to finish the basics of my costume, but I knew I could do it.
Tapped out for magical object crafting for the day, I left my tools on the bench and let Marcus and Rose do whatever they wanted. Rose decided to brew a potion using some of the materials I had brought and berries from the bushes in the small forest, and Marcus chose to help her with it.
I was not done for the day, though, as I still had a ritual to do: I was going to awaken my sword.
Habristiel had explained that, through my blood, I could turn any object into a magical object that was actually alive and intelligent, capable of speaking and helping me. I was going to do this trick with my sword, because it would always be with me – and, let's be honest, a talking sword was awesome.
The fact that, by my own account, it would be smarter than me, was not much of an issue. It simply meant it would be able to help me with things I would have a harder time with.
Just as I began, the eagle that had found me yesterday landed on my shoulder and pecked me on the head: she was clearly unhappy with the fact that I had ignored her for most of a day. I gently caressed her chest and looked with an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, love. It's... kinda hard to deal with everything that has fallen into my lap lately. I would let you out near my home, but the city is no place for you. When I'm finished, I'll open a gate to the mountain and you can hunt to your heart's content, alright?"
She gave out a cry and rubbed her head against mine, which I took to mean she was welcoming the option.
"Say, do you want to help me? I'm going to grant life to this sword."
Looming at me, then looking at the sword, she promptly decided that it was not something she wanted and took off, flying for the nearby trees.
"Fine, be that way," I grumbled good-naturedly as I started the ritual.
The first step of the ritual was the most painful: I cut the palm of my hand with the sword, just enough to draw blood, and covered the blade with it as I whispered a few words of power. When the sword shone, I channeled some divine power to heal myself and began with the next part, which consisted of further chanting as I concentrated on what I wanted.
This was not going to be any normal sword. It was going to be a legendary sword. When I finished, it would be a bit better than the norm, but eventually this would become the most powerful sword in the world. That was going to take a lot of diamond dust, though.
Maybe I could check if artificial diamond dust was useful? Each time I used my magic to create it, I just got ten grams of it. Creating the workshop had cost me the equivalent to slightly below twenty times that. If I could buy the dust by kilograms, then I would be able to use my magic for other things.
And, if that failed... well, there was bound to be some plane made entirely of diamonds. If I built some golems, they could mine it for me.
Hmm. Better to leave the experiments for the future. Right now, there was one thing that concerned me, and that was my sword. With slow, deliberate moves, I poured magic into the sword, watching as it formed many small runes on the blade, runes that spoke of life, strength, mind and body working together. The blood burned as more and more runes appeared, until I made the last step of the ritual: a blast of light covered everything, and when the light vanished, I saw that the runes were now emplaced so as to resemble a word in Elvish: Sorennama.
"Huh? What's this place? Who are you, and why are you holding me?"
I smiled: my sword was now a living entity. The surprising thing was the voice: rather than the neutral tone I had assumed, this was a female voice, rich and strong, just a tinge of metal akin to a bell ringing.
"My name is Taylor, and I just granted you life, intelligence, and power. We are in my refuge, where only those I approve of can walk in. As for why I hold you... I hope you are willing to help me in my quest."
"Well, thank you! I'm glad to be here! What kind of quest do you speak of?"
I quickly told her about the state of the world: Capes. Heroes and Villains. Crime and (lack of) punishment. Endbringers and death. And my wish to do what I could to restore justice, even if it were just a little.
"Say no more! I can see in you the values of one who wishes to do good, who accepts the law but doesn't fully bow to it. I'll be glad to aid you in your quest, My Lady!"
"Thank you! Do you have a name? Your blade is marked Sorennama, Eagle's Talon, but I'm not certain of what you would prefer."
"Talon shall suffice, My Lady! In your hands, I'll bring down every enemy that faces you!"
"Fantastic. Now, allow me to grant you greater power! You will be stronger, and those who deserve punishment but not death will simply become unconscious."
"Great! But... will there it be targets we can kill? It's just... it doesn't feel like I'll be doing all I can if no one dies. I can sense it causes you distress, My Lady. Why is that?"
Wow. Looks like I gave Talon a tad too much bloodthirst. I just explained that there were limits to what we would be allowed to do to villains.
"There will be those who are so irredeemable that the authorities have already condemned them to death, so there will be no need to hold back against them. But, for most people we fight, we can only arrest them."
"It doesn't matter, we shall mete justice unto those that deserve it."
"We will, Talon. Now, I don't think I have the time to grant you your first powers, but I will later today, alright?"
"No problem. You do that when you can!"
I smiled, and tested one of Talon's powers, nodding as she transformed into a bracelet: this would allow me to always keep her with me without people noticing. And then I went to seek my eagle companion.
I had a promise to fulfill, after all.
----
List of spells used in this chapter:
- Miracle
- Simulacrum: creates a double of a person, but with a maximum of half the levels of the original.
- Fabricate
- Create Armaments: crafts a non-magical weapon, shield, or set of armor. Requires a Craft check: if failed, the item is created with the broken condition. You can create items with rare or unusual materials by including some of that material as a component.
- Make Whole, Greater: repairs non-magical objects (repairs 10d6+10 points of damage to an object or construct), can fix destroyed magic/technological items and restore their properties if caster level is at least equal to the item's.
List of magical objects:
- Great Forge: Based on the Figurine of the Dwarven Forge, this forge lets the user "store" a spell in it by burning a spell scroll, and from then on the crafter can use that spell as a pre-requisite.
- Sleeves of Many Garments: transforms the appearance of one's garments into that of non-magical set of clothing.
- Headband of Inspired Wisdom: adds +2 enhancement bonus to Wisdom.
- Belt of Mighty Constitution: adds +2 enhancement bonus to Constitution.
- +1 Heavy Metal (Mithral) Shield: magical shield, adds +3 shield bonus to AC, no AC penalty
- Mithral Chainmail: adds +6 armor bonus to AC, -2 AC penalty
- Eagle's Talon (Legendary Weapon):
+1 Bastard Sword: can be wielded with one (as exotic weapon) or two (as martial weapon) hands, adds +1 to attack and damage.
Adamantine: can ignore hardness less than 20 (mithral hardness is 15).
Intelligent Item:
Int 20, Wis 20, Car 20
Darkvision 60', Blindsense
Shape Change (can transform at owner's will), Telepathy
Returning: spend 1 mythic power to bring the item to hand
Undetectable: while invisible and in physical contact with this object, the wielder can't be detected nor scryed by any method
Unstoppable Strike: spend 1 mythic power to attack against Touch AC, 2 mythic power to bypass deflection
Upgradable: can be improved through an 8-hour ritual by spending half the difference between the new and current weapon in diamond dust.
EDIT: Foe-Biting sucks in here, long live Undetectable!
1.4. Juvenile
Sunday January 16th 2011, 5:12 PM, Hebert Family House, Brockton Bay, New Hampshire, United States of America, Earth Bet
"We live in a place the bands have not come to in a long time, I think I'm safe for the moment."
Magic may not have existed here before Habristiel showed up, but I was thinking I may have been cursed the moment I said that.
For the past five days, I had been working non-stop: by day, I studied, kept house, kept an ear for news on the investigation about the attack I had suffered, read, and took my eagle companion – whom I had decided to name her Sorontari – to the mountains that were her usual stomping grounds. By night, I crafted my equipment, trained to wield Talon, and came up with ways to use my magical powers and skills to fight crime.
Hell, I had even planned out my debut! Given how much crime there is every night, I thought I could just go out when I had all of my gear ready, sweep in with Sorontari, stop the criminal(s), wait for the police, and presto, new independent hero at the ready.
But then reality had decided it was the perfect moment to ruin that and laugh at me. It reminded me of a poem Mom recited a couple of times: "The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley."
Cliff's Notes: two gangs full of assholes were fighting a couple streets away from home.
Slightly longer summary: Empire 88 goons (the local Nazi gang) had decided to add the Docks to their territory by tagging buildings with their dumb swastikas and beating anyone they disliked, and the Azn Bad Boys (the local all-Asian gang) had reacted by having the same 'brilliant' idea and sent more goons into the same zone, leading to a fight between them the moment they met.
Needless to say, I was not happy. They were attempting to kill or hurt my neighbors, would probably force those who did not leave into paying 'protection', and, if the rumors I had heard were correct, girls could run the risk of being kidnapped and forced into prostitution.
So, unless the police or the PRT acted soon, the Docks would become the frontline of this new gang war.
"One more day. I was one day away from finishing the wings. Why couldn't they have waited one day for me to finish my wings?"
"We will have to make do without them, My Lady," Talon stated, and I sighed.
"Yeah. I'm going to need to bring Rose here to ensure everything stays locked down and hope Dad won't return before me." Locking the last window and pulling the curtains, I opened a gate to Haven and called for Marcus and Rose, as Sorontari flew for me, clearly having noticed something was amiss.
"What is the problem, Mistress?" Rose asked, worried. The fact that I was breaking my usual timetable was a clear reason to believe something was wrong.
"Gang attack in the neighborhood, I need to step in before they cause too much damage!" I replied, taking off my shoes and pants. "Help me put on my armor!"
Quickly, Rose and Marcus stepped in, and within half a minute I was fully kitted out with armor, shield and sword, as well as what objects I had managed to craft in the past few days, including a helmet I was going to use to hide my identity.
"Rose, I need you to stay at home. If Dad calls or returns home before I do, do your best to ensure he doesn't suspect you aren't me, and wait for my signal so we can swap. And, if someone attacks, hide or use the back door to escape, I'll fix anything that's broken and I'd rather not lose you."
"I will, Mistress," Rose promised, and the two of us got through the still open gate, which closed behind us.
"My faith protects me," I chanted, and the air surrounding me flickered and shimmered, as the shield of pure faith settled. Any help I had in this first real fight as a hero would be welcome. Sorontari landed on my shoulder as I applied a basic spell to disguise my identity, in case I lost my helmet – just for kicks, I gave myself blond hair and blue eyes – and, above that, an invisibility spell.
That reminded me that one of the things I would have to craft was a ring of invisibility.
Now that I was ready, I concentrated on the particular spell I wanted to use now: I pointed with my hand in the right direction, picked a distance, and cast the spell.
"Open a door through the aether."
In the blink of an eye, I moved from my house's living room to a point tens of meters above the fighting, as Empire and ABB thugs punched or used blunt objects against each other without restraint: already, there were several of them lying on the ground, some bleeding. I had to act quickly, before it became too much of a blood orgy or someone pulled out a gun.
Yes, Lady Taylor! Talon exclaimed, and I could hear in her voice how eager she was to enter the fight. These knaves will taste defeat before the day is through!
The fight was getting uglier by the moment as I kept descending, and there was yet no sign of law enforcement anywhere nearby: either they were just putting together enough officers to have the numbers to deal with this, or they were hoping the Protectorate would stop it.
I would have to jump in and hope my presence did not make this fight worse. At least, I was certain I would be able to knock them out without causing grave injuries.
And so I did: when I figured I was close enough to land without hurting myself, I deactivated the boots and dropped the rest of the distance, aiming for an empty space in the fight.
A second before I landed, a skin-head entered the same space, and suddenly had to act the life of an improvised landing pad.
Despite the rough landing, I was able to remain standing on my feet.
The same could not be said of the goon underneath me, as he was face to the ground, stunned and possibly nose-bleeding from the impact of his face against the asphalt. The fight around me quickly died down as the fighters noticed me: landing on the goon had triggered the invisibility spell's ending condition, meaning that I was now visible somewhat before I had hoped.
Well, spoilt milk. I just had to scare enough of these dumbasses into surrendering, and this could help me a lot.
"Alright, I don't know what went through your minds that you believed thrashing this place would be fun, but all you cause is pain and damage. Just drop your weapons and surrender. Or, well, go back home, rethink your lives, and actually become useful members of society? You're causing too much rot, already."
Meh. All the skills I got, and right now I realized I had to train up my people speaking skills before I got to Habristiel's level in oratory.
"CAPE!"
Look at that, he's actually surprised a parahuman showed up.
This time I could not underestimate the situation: instead of a bunch of drug addicts, here I was surrounded by more than thirty people, all armed with blunt weapons and possibly handguns. However, this time I was better armed and protected, and had the ability to deal with them. I probably would not even have to use other spells.
With the goons starting to react to my interference, I unleashed a storm of swings on the nearest idiots. The first was a Nazi that only took a slash to drop. The second required two cuts to be brought down. After that, I was able to hit another, but he was able to stay on his feet.
That was when they went on to counterattack, clearly eager to overwhelm me with numbers. But they would find me a tough target to beat, even as they flanked me.
A length of pipe came at me from my left, but I put my shield in front of it and deflected it with a CLANG!
Two tried to tackle me in an attempt to force me into the ground. The one at my right, I felled with a quick cut to the shoulder, while the other actually flew past me thanks to a quick jump to the side, tripping over the guy I had accidentally used as a landing pad.
The one that I had attacked earlier pulled out a knife and attempted to stab me with it, but he was wielding it so badly I barely had to move to avoid it reaching me, much less actually doing the stabbing. The other knife-wielding idiot did manage to reach me, but the tip of the knife just clinked against my chainmail without even nicking me.
That left the three ABB gangs behind me: one tried to straight out punch me, with zero luck. The next tried to bring out a tire iron, but once more my shield was enough to deal with it. And the last one pulled out a katana from his back and tried to slash me. Unfortunately for him, the katana had to be a very low quality one, because when I parried it with Talon, all that was left was a gangster with a stub of a sword and a dumb(er) face.
Sorontari dived in just then, and landed on the knife guy that had nearly hurt me: ripping at him with her talons, she forced him to drop the knife as he tried to push her off, but that just left him open to me whipping Talon around and knocking him out.
I felt quite optimistic about my chances as I continued to slash and parry with Talon and my shield. I was outnumbered, yes, but the gangsters were unable to capitalize on that. In fact, they were actually going back to fighting each other, as I noticed a skinhead hitting an ABB guy with a tire iron, only to be tackled by a larger Asian ganger who began to punch the daylights out of him.
On one hand, it kept them distracted. On the other hand, I really had to stop them before they ended up killing each other. So, I kept fighting.
It felt a lot longer than it actually was, but a minute later, I had managed to take out more than twenty people, and the guys at the edge of the fight were actually taking the chance to just run away: possibly, they had decided that the fight was no longer fun and took advantage of less of their pals being around to beat it.
Over the minute, I had learned that nothing these guys could do could actually hurt me. A couple of them had managed to hit me, but my armor had easily absorbed the hit, ensuring I suffered no actual injuries. Everybody else, I dodged, parried, or blocked.
That was when something else came at me – something that was an attack, but not a weapon. I was unable to dodge this one, so fast it was, and I was certain it would leave a big bruise unless I used a healing spell later.
Given the lack of an explosion, it was clear that this was not a gunshot. In fact, given how the attack felt, I was certain this was a Parahuman power. The number of Parahumans with the skill to fire this kind of attack was small. And there was one Nazi cape that could actually do what just happened.
"Attacking someone on the back? Well, just what I expected from one of your lot," I fired, turning to see Stormtiger, a Parahuman with aerokinetic powers, landing just a few metres away. The few non-powered fighters of both sides backed off, clearly unwilling to get in the middle of a cape fight.
Alright, step one – stopping the gang fight – was done. Now, step two – stop Stormtiger.
"Given what you did to that poor fellow over there, I wouldn't cast any stones."
"You mean, the one I landed on? Completely accidental. I was actually trying to set foot on an empty place, but he had the bad luck of entering before I could react. Also, poor fellow? He was attacking the people living here for kicks."
"Clearly, you were getting involved in matters that don't concern you."
"They do, actually. Your goose-stepping morons were prancing about the place until they found the other morons over there, so I chose to intervene before the moron current drowned the neighborhood in stupidity."
I might be getting better at this part. At least, the one about distracting the 'morons'.
It did not seem to work overmuch on Stormtiger, though. He was probably too experienced to let some basic taunting anger him. I would have to learn how to step it up, eventually.
"So, you kill them?"
"You'll find they're all hale and hearty. Nothing that a good night's rest in jail won't cure."
"That sword... it's Tinkertech, isn't it? You can either surrender it to me, or I can take it from your bleeding fingers."
He dares! Punish this knave, My Lady! To think he believes himself worthy of touching me! Hmph! Talon demanded. Stormtiger's arrogance had clearly rankled her, and her bloodthirsty side was eager to taste Nazi blood. I smirked underneath my helmet and pointed at him with my sword.
"How about I pick option three, Nazi scum? You surrender and I take you quietly into jail?"
I could see his eyes twitching, and he chose to stop the banter by firing his air claws as I charged. The projectiles harmlessly exploded against my shield, and I soon stood next to him, giving a powerful slash across his tattooed chest (seriously, going half-naked in the middle of battle was almost like carrying a sign saying 'easy target, open fire'), with the air distortions caused by his power causing little impediment to my strike.
Stormtiger yelped in pain, and attempted to retreat and put some space between both of us.
"Running away? Already?" I asked as the Nazi flew away. I knew the fight was far from over: he was trying to move into a position that benefited him, since, as far as he knew, I could not fly.
"Hardly." Stormtiger began to accumulate air in his hands forming a pair of claws once more. This was a trick I had read about in PHO: the longer he drew air, the bigger the explosion would be once released.
His mistake was that he thought he was safe in the air. Unfortunately, the boots were not able to provide real flight, I could only go up and down. If I had my wings, I would have just deployed them and attacked. So, that left one of the spells I had prepared, even though I had not expected to be using it. It would be a bit overkill – it was meant to be used on multiple people – but it would not be something that would go to waste.
"To those I choose, I grant the power of flight," I recited. The holy symbol hanging from my neck shone for a second, and as I jumped, I felt like I was pushing against air, feeling like a rocket without a propellent.
The shock in Stormtiger's face as he lost his main advantage was obvious, and I went in with a Mage Strike to slash with a flare of power, just as Sorontari dive bombed him. The distraction caused Stormtiger to let loose his air claws in my general direction, failing to hit me at all as Sorontari pecked his face and I slashed again.
I could not be certain if he had just underestimated me, if I was just that good or a combination of both. There was word that Stormtiger had been a pit fighter before Triggering, and years of fighting had only made him more experienced. And here I was, beating him like a drum.
And his goons noticed it, because even more of them were peeling off from the fight, although just as many were cheering on Stormtiger. As for the ABB, they were mostly silent, although some were supporting me in this fight.
That was something I would have to deal with later.
The Nazi in front of me decided that, since he could not escape my grasp, then he would go out swinging, so he used his power to push himself forward and attempt to grapple me. Unfortunately for him, not only was I better at flying (Habristiel had taken her lessons very seriously) but I knew how to counter that with my sword.
"I knew you were a Nazi, but a pervert? Tsk, tsk, shame on you," I taunted the man. I could not see his face, but I was certain the veins in his forehead were about to pop out in anger. Still, Stormtiger did not lash out: he kept control over his emotion and ramped up his attacks, with the relentless assault of a fighter that knew how to fuel his attacks with his anger.
If he were not a massive racist asshole, he could go far in Habristiel's world.
But he had a problem. Most of his life post-Trigger, he had not had to face stronger opponents. Save for Lung, a few Protectorate members and possibly Purity or Kaiser, anything he could have fought here was small fries compared to what Habristiel and her friends had dealt with. Granted, he did hurt me a couple of times, but the injuries were minor, nothing compared to what Sorontari and me were dealing to him.
Thirty seconds later, he was on the ground, wheezing and struggling to remain awake as blood from the multiple cuts Sorontari had inflicted on him slowly pooled under him.
"Who... who are you?" he coughed out, almost unwillingly. I had the feeling that he just could not believe I had defeated him and made it look easy.
"Me? I'm the one that's going to clean up the mess you and the other gangs keep leaving behind," I replied, giving one last swing and knocking him out for good.
The Empire 88 goons seemed torn between running away or attempting to recover their Cape, but one glare from me was more than enough to put them on the run. If it were not for the fact that I had to make sure the unconscious idiots did not escape, I would have gone after them. Bird in hand, after all.
Meanwhile, the ABB goons heckled their Nazi counterparts: while I couldn't understand their languages, even I could tell they were calling the Nazis' masculinity into doubt. This ended when I clang Talon against my shield.
"Alright, you now have two options. Leave the same way those idiots did, or I'm getting you all knocked out and arrested. I'd rather you pick the latter, every one of you idiot out of the streets makes for a better place, but, hey, your choice." Forcing my power to surge, I flared and gave myself a fierce aura, causing several of them to step back in fear. With police and PRT sirens now shrieking closer, they decided that their chances were better if they left.
As they ran away, I wondered if the law enforcement was actually just arriving or if they had decided to wait for me to finishing the fight before intervening.
Whatever the reason, it was only a few seconds later that I was left the only person standing in the street. Everyone else was either kissing asphalt or knocked out, the latter category including Stormtiger. A quick check-up of the unconscious gangers revealed some of them had several injuries from Sorontari: I would have tried to heal them, but a cursory glance told me nothing was life-threatening, and by the time I was done the cops had finally arrived.
"Attention, unknown Parahuman! Drop your weapon and step away from those men!" one of the police officers called out, using a megaphone. Before Talon could complain, I returned her to her bracelet form and did as bid.
"Sorry for not dropping my sword, but I'd rather not leave it near the hands of someone who just attacked me," I shouted back. "Do you mind if I stick close to Stormtiger? He's unconscious, but he could wake up at any moment."
"Remain at least ten feet away from him and do not act in a threatening way! Await for the arrival of the Parahuman Response Team and Protectorate members!"
"Fine."
Welp, time to wait. I kept myself busy with checking on Sorontari – who was perfectly fine, thank you very much – and my armor as I planned what to say and the police handcuffed the goons I had knocked out. Given that my first event was so public and that I defeated a lieutenant of the city's oldest gang, the Protectorate was bound to send someone important to check on me.
A few minutes later, a loud motorcycle engine began to fill the air. PHO was a decent source of information about certain people, and in Brockton Bay only two Protectorate members ran around on a bike. That meant either Armsmaster or Miss Militia. And, given how Armsmaster tended to use the noise to intimidate, it was likelier to be Miss Militia – which proved to be the right option, as the American-motif motorcycle rolled through the clear parts of the street.
"Are you the Parahuman that helped stop this fight?" she asked, parking her bike nad hopping off at the same time. Her power manifested in the form of a shotgun she kept aimed to the floor: she was clearly preparing for a potential fight, but did not want to look threatening.
"Yes. I even got you guys a Nazi, fresh off the market," I replied, pointing at Stormtiger. Miss Militia looked around, counting the number of bodies on the ground and that of arrested goons, before turning back to me.
"I'm quite surprised you managed to do this all on your own. And that few of them have actual injuries."
"Oh, I think one or two of them were actually from the gang fight, and Sorontari accounts for a few more of them. The others are mine, yes."
"I assume that your projection is responsible for the ones with claw marks on the face."
"Projection? You mean... Sorontari?" I asked, mystified, as Miss Militia put a pair of handcuffs unlike any I had ever seen on Stormtiger's wrists. Did those cuffs block powers in some way? That would be interesting. Maybe I could make a set of my own.
"She's real? You do realize that bald eagles are a protected species, right?"
"Yeah, I know that. It's just that, well, I think Sorontari adopted me as her chick and decided she had to protect me." Sorontari proceeded to answer by pecking me – thank goodness for the helmet – before taking flight. I knew she would be waiting for me, though: while she could get home on her own, her actual refuge was only accessible if I was there. "Looks like she thinks I can handle this myself."
"Aren't you afraid she'll get in trouble?" she asked, tracking the large bird's flight with an expert eye. I chuckled.
"I pity whoever thinks they can mess with her, actually."
"While we wait for the transport, would you mind answering a few questions in the meantime? We are going to need your testimony for the investigation."
"Sure."
"In first place... how should I call you?"
My cape name had been something I had pondered for some time, and I had the perfect answer already prepared. It fit me and what I could do, yet it was exotic enough to look like a proper, heroic name. Granted, the moment this hit PHO, the 'secret' behind that name would be lucky to last more than twenty-four hours, depending on how long it took people to decipher the word combination.
"Asëamahtar. You can call me Asëamahtar."
----
By the time the prisoner van arrived to take Stormtiger away, I had given an account of the fight. Fortunately, as I had not used much of my magic, I could keep the actual extent of my powers a secret. Then, she had issued an invitation to join the Protectorate, citing the benefits of membership, as well as the problems independent heroes could usually encounter.
I politely refused the invitation, stating that I wanted to do some more time as an independent hero before potentially joining, and took off flying, thankful that the spell I had cast still had a few more minutes of time. Ducking between buildings, I waited for Sorontari to perch on my shoulder and returned home – where the first thing Rose said was that Dad had called and was on his way home.
I quickly took off my armor and all non-essential objects, and ushered Rose and Sorontari with them back to Haven just as Dad reached our street. I barely had the time to freshen up and put some clean clothes before Dad opened the door, and as soon as he saw me coming down the stairs, he hugged me for all the strength he could summon, trembling as he assured himself that I was alright.
"Dad," I gently told him, returning the hug, "it's alright, the fight didn't come anywhere close to home. Someone stopped them several streets away from here."
"I know, we heard it on the radio. Still... for all I knew, any of them could have peeled off and started to wreck things in this zone."
"Well, looks like they didn't. Did you hear who stopped them?"
I had to admit one thing: I was fishing for compliments for my hero persona. It was the first time I did something, and I wanted to know how I had fared in everyone else's eyes.
"They mentioned someone – some new hero – fought them all on their own. Got an Empire cape and thirty-some gang members, but everyone's waiting for the official report before they begin to speculate."
Not as good as I had wished, but I would take it. At least, they had acknowledged I was a hero.
"A new hero? Not someone from the Protectorate?"
"They'd be saying it from the top of every building if it had been that way."
"Yeah, checks out. PHO's must be full of people talking about it."
"So, you weren't checking it?"
"I was kinda busy with other stuff." Such as being the one saving the day, for starters.
"Well, they'll probably mention more tonight at the news. Say, do you want to have pizza tonight? After the scare of the fight, I don't think any of us is in a situation to cook anything without burning."
I would be able to do it, and even if I could not, I actually did not need food... but, hell, pizza night is always good.
"Sure! Sergio's?"
"You've read my mind. Let me get a shower and clothes and then we can discuss what to buy."
I smiled, and Dad left to do his stuff, while I brought out the pizzeria's menu from the place where we usually hid it. And, as I did so, I resolved several things.
For starters, tonight I would finally finish the wings. I needed to finish this stuff. Survival was the name of the game, and my tools were what I could make.
----
Spells used here:
- Invisibility: for 1 minute/level or until you do something like attacking or casting an offensive spell, you are invisible.
- Dimension Door: short range teleportation. You can aim at a certain point, or say a direction and distance, and you are suddenly there.
- Fly, Mass: 1 creature/level can now fly at a speed of 60' (about 20 ft/s) during 10 min/level.
Magical Objects:
- Boots of Levitation: allows the user to cast the levitate spell at will (levitate allows the user or another creature or object to go up or down at 20 feet per move action).
Other:
- Name: The reason behind Taylor's cape name will be explained in the next chapter. Contains mild authorial self-deprecation.