Chapter 589 - interlude

Chapter 6: Bloodhound

Suffice to say, my departure was somewhat tense. Armsmaster and Miss Militia had repeated their recruitment pitch and I had flatly shot them both down. My power testing had only been a peace offering, something to convince the PRT, and their spies and puppet masters that I was a known quantity.

I was somewhat surprised they didn't try to play hard ball, but I suppose they judged it too risky.

As nice as PRT support would be, explaining why I had to take every full moon off would have been too difficult. Maybe when I was stronger I would be able to make a request like that without being questioned. Ultimately the PRT was run by pragmatists, I just needed to be strong enough to make demands.

Even more surprising, Panacea apparently certified my healing powers, deeming them generally safe. Not entirely sure why that happened after I nearly decked her sister, but I wasn't going to complain. It was a mess. I'd almost been ready to join the Protectorate then and there before her sister suddenly blew everything up. Better to stay on my own. Figure things out for myself.

So instead I asked the PRT to drop me off in the Docks and they did so, but not before compensating me for my time to the tune of $1000 for contributing to science's understanding of Parahuman phenomenon. You didn't think I was going to play 'lab rat' for free did you?

It was a decent chunk of money, but with my stomach already beginning to grumble about dinner I judged it wouldn't last very long with my new appetite.

After weaving through the Docks to lose anybody who tried to follow, I stood in an abandoned building, a large industrial frame overlooking defunct piers and jetties. Something to do with shipping or ships, I supposed. A sudden clattering sound startled me out of my reverie, and I spun around to see a flash of brown and an empty bottle rolling across the ground.

Sighing, I twitched the mental muscle which controlled my tail and brought it closer, grasping it gently and wrapping it around my waist. I swear that the thing has a mind of its own sometimes… I got the sense it was annoyed by being constricted throughout the testing. It had nearly busted out of my pants when Glory Girl put the whammy on me...

Cold wind whistled through gaps in the corrugated metal walls, carrying the scent of salt and decay. I meandered through the cluttered warehouse, the events at PRT headquarters still weighing on me. Glory Girl's aura had triggered something primal in me, something that felt distinctly not human. The surge of rage had been overwhelming, and for a moment, I'd felt my ki flare far higher than I'd thought possible. If Panacea hadn't been there to intervene, things could have gone very badly.

I moved deeper into the shadows, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. The floor was littered with debris – broken glass, discarded needles, crumpled papers bearing the faded logo of some long-defunct company. The irony wasn't lost on me; I had knowledge and power that could change the fate of this entire world, yet I was relegated to squatting in abandoned buildings, looking for a secluded place to sleep like any other powerless inhabitant of the Bay.

I distantly remembered that there was a random homeless guy who Scion decided to take orders from. Same thing… sort of.

Distantly, a siren wailed. My first instinct was to ignore it.

It was the smart play; already the sky was darkening and I needed to find a safe place to sleep and something to eat before night fell. The desire to plan around comfort and security was the culmination of a lifetime's worth of lessons learned as a human.

Something in the siren called to the new, alien part of me. The promise of danger and violence more tempting than a warm place to sleep and a hot meal.

I paused, weighing my options. Letting the alien feeling wash over me. The siren wailed on and on. Beckoning me towards danger.

I'd wasted an entire week pretending to be human when the path towards growing stronger was obvious. I needed conflict the same way a fish needs water. My Ki had remained dormant because I'd never truly called upon it. If I was going to grasp this new life, I'd need to go looking for trouble, as much of it as I can manage.

Time to stop clinging to my past, the old me is dead, erased in a moment between dimensions. I'm something new, something this universe has never seen before. A human mind in an alien body. Firstborn and fatherless. The Saiyan of Brockton Bay; taking on all challengers.

"Fuck it it," I said, letting my simmering Ki ignite, banishing the evening's chill and leaving me twitching with energy, "Time to see what this city's really made of."

—

The siren led me to a 24/7 convenience store surrounded by a pair of police cars, their lights painting the street in alternating red and blue. An ambulance was just arriving, and I could smell blood in the air.

The store owner was laid out on the sidewalk, an EMT rushing to press gauze against a wound in his chest. Gunshot I guessed from the sweet, acrid smell still lingering in the air.

I dropped down into the alley beside the store. This was exactly the kind of situation I'd been looking for.

"I can help," I said, stepping into the light with my hands raised. The cops turned, hands moving to their weapons. "I'm Polaris, independent hero, and luckily for that guy, I can heal." I continued, pointing a raised finger at the victim.

"Stay where you are!" one of the officers barked, drawing his weapon. "On your knees, hands behind your head!"

I kept my hands raised but didn't kneel. "I understand the caution, but that guy is probably going to die if I don't heal him. Call in and check – the PRT has me on file from this morning. I'm legitimate."

The second officer thumbed his radio, eyes never leaving me. "We have an unknown cape on scene claiming to be 'Polaris'. Claims PRT registration..."

"Confirmed," crackled the response after a tense moment. "Polaris is on the registry, brand new. Certified healing power."

The officers exchanged looks. The EMT working on the victim spoke up, "We're losing him!"

"Your call, officers," I said calmly, though my heart was racing. "But make it fast."

The first officer lowered his weapon slightly. "Do it. But we're watching you."

The police officers and the EMTs exchanged glances, but the shopkeeper's condition made the decision for them. They stepped back, letting me kneel beside the injured man. I placed my hands over his wound, letting ki flow into him. I noticed quickly that the bullet must have clipped something important. The familiar warm golden glow spread from my palms, knitting flesh and replacing lost blood. A minute later, the wound was gone.

The store owner's eyes fluttered open sightlessly. The EMTs took that as their cue to move in, setting him gently on their stretcher with a few words of eager gratitude. The fear and suspicion from a few moments ago was nowhere to be found.

I was too distracted to process whatever they said. My nose had caught something – the sweet tang of gunpowder, mixed with beer and… corn chips. Looking into the open doors of the store I could see the open till and an almost comical trail of chip bags leading out the door, scattered and stepped on.

"He'll be fine," I told the friendlier officer. "I need to take care of something."

I was moving before they could respond, following the trail deeper into ABB territory. A street down I found the leaking bag of "Corn Snacks" discarded on the pavement. But the trail led further. I followed the scent at what to me was now a light jog, still faster than an olympic sprinter. Every few bounds I stopped to test the air.

It was still bizarre, having a sense of smell that would put a dog to shame. The whole city was an assault on my enhanced senses: rotting sea life from the docks, stagnant water in the sewers, industrial chemicals from abandoned factories, and a thousand other less palatable 'human' stenches. Following the scent of the shooter was like trying to pick out a friend's voice in a room full of people talking. Fortunately for me the gunpowder smell was sharp and distinctive.

I slowed as I approached an apartment building covered in the garish red and green of ABB graffiti—Christmas colors. The scent grew much stronger here. They were close, probably celebrating their 'victory' while their victim was bleeding out. The thought made my blood boil.

Through an open second-floor window, I could hear laughter and boasting in mixed English and a language I guessed was Mandarin.

"Did you see his face when I pulled the trigger?"

"Old fool should have just bowed like we said."

Four distinct voices. The smell of gunpowder was strongest on one of them—the shooter. My ki surged with anger, and I had to force myself to calm down. I couldn't let the Saiyan bloodlust take over. These were still just normal humans, even if they were scum.

I crashed through their window feet-first, sending glass and splintered wood everywhere. In a glance I took in the room. A few old couches, an extremely large television, three—no four men, red and green bandannas around their necks, a case of beer and a few bags of chips dumped onto the coffee table. Bingo.

They scrambled for weapons, but in the confined space of the apartment, they might as well have been moving in slow motion.

The shooter went down first—a strike to the solar plexus that left him gasping on the floor. His friends fared no better. One managed to get off a wild shot that went wide, but a ki-enhanced burst of speed put me inside his guard. The last two tried to gain whatever distance they could. I clocked the one closest to me and stripped the gun from his limp hand, tossing it under the couch.

A single bound cornered the man by the door, he lunged with a knife but seemed to move in slow motion. I stepped aside, shoving him past me onto a reclining chair. I leveled a kick at his exposed side and sent him and the chair sliding backwards into the last gangster. As he scrambled for the gun I'd thrown down I caught his chin with a small kick, scattering teeth and knocking him out.

Five seconds, maybe six. Too easy.

I looked around for something to tie them up with, only to find they were all still quiet and unmoving — Oh fuck I've killed them — was my first thought. Leaning over the closest ABB member I reached out my hands to heal them I found something strange. Amongst the regular flows and loops of their bodies, tiny strands of my own Ki were reverberating like a plucked guitar string, disrupting their body in subtle ways.

It was exactly what I'd intended, non-lethal incapacitation, but I wasn't exactly sure how it had happened. Some kind of subconscious response to my intent? Or was it something intrinsic to Ki. It required more study.

A footstep startled me from my healing trance, and I spun around in an instant. Standing in the doorway to the apartment's kitchen was an older asian woman. One of the robber's mothers, I guessed. She was clearly terrified, holding a pistol pointed directly at me. Time seemed to slow as the hammer fell and the gun gave a sharp metallic click.

To my everlasting shame, I flinched badly, turning my head and closing my eyes…

When I opened them again the woman seemed as shocked as I was. We simply stared at each other for a moment before she began to frantically scrabble at the gun's safety. I was faster and disarmed her. I had reservations about beating a middle aged woman in her own home, but on the other hand she did just try to kill me in defense of her dirtbag son. On impulse I chopped her firmly on the top of the head, letting a spark of ki out on impact. It worked perfectly as she passed out instantly.

Well mostly perfectly—while I was marveling at how effective my "Stunning Chop" was, she fell sideways and headbutted the fridge as I forgot to catch her before she fell. Whoops.

After quickly healing the worst of the woman's bruises I left my… victims passed out and pulled out the phone Armsmaster had given me. Dialing a contact called "Console" I was met by a woman's smooth drawl.

"Console," Miss Militia's voice answered. "Do you need any immediate assistance?"

"Uh no. It's me Polaris. I responded to a shooting on Atlantic Street. Healed the victim and found the guys who did it. I've got four… five guys— people knocked out in an apartment building a block south of the shooting. Uhhh… Harbor Street—I think?"

A pause. "Understood. That would be Harbor Avenue. I'm going to organise a pickup with BBPD and one of our heroes. I would advise you to stay where you are and be ready to provide a statement."

—

After the police arrived they politely pulled me aside for a statement and got to work, collecting the unconscious gang members, gathering evidence: the whole shebang.

They treated me with a mix of respect and forced casualness. As if any second I might go nuts and start shooting beams out of my eyes or Lung might appear to duel me to the death. Reasonable enough I suppose. I was still pretty amped from the fight and the police tended to be good at paying attention to body language.

The entire process gave me enough time to calm down and begin to wonder about the exact legality of this kind of arrest. I was sure they would be able to match the ballistics on the shooter's gun to the bullets fired in the store, but beyond that… How does something like 'super sense of smell' play out in a court case? Would the mother be in any trouble for trying to shoot a vigilante? Would I be asked to go to court to give testimony? I doubted it.

The hero who arrived a few minutes later turned out to be Velocity, appearing as a red blur and greeting the assembled onlookers in a practiced way. I'm here, everything is under control—his behavior seemed to shout.

He even spoke multiple languages, calling out to the small crowd in English and what must have been Mandarin. A useful skill for a hero. When he finished his rounds he approached, giving me a single two fingered wave.

"G'day," I said.

"Polaris, right?" Velocity's tone was friendly but professional. "Quite the show for a first night."

I shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my civilian clothes. "Right place, right time. They shot a shopkeeper for some cash and a few bags of chips."

The adrenaline—or whatever the Saiyan equivalent was—was wearing off, leaving me feeling drained and embarrassingly, hungry again.

"Look," Velocity continued, "you did good work tonight. Clean takedowns, minimal property damage, and you called it in and stuck around to help sort everything out. But..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The ABB isn't going to take this lying down. They'll want payback."

"I can handle myself," I said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Never said you couldn't. But there's handling yourself, and then there's being smart."

There was no smile in Velocity's voice when he spoke next. "When the shit hits the fan, you're going to wish you had somebody watching your six. Trust me."

I could only nod at his advice.

He disappeared in a blur. This time I tried to track him with my eyes, but even with my enhanced senses he was like watching a movie at 10x speed.

The night air was getting colder, and my stomach was making its demands known with increasing urgency. Time to find something to eat and somewhere to sleep.

—

Hours later I was tucked in the office of an old abandoned factory of some kind. I judged it safe enough to sleep as the stairs on the upper floor had collapsed or been removed years ago. Around me were the detritus of my takeaway dinner, every crumb devoured, every container licked clean. I was still a little hungry, but oddly sated. I fluffed my backpack, trying to make something resembling a pillow out of my spare clothes. Something hard in the bag rattled against the floor.

Reaching in, my hand closed around cold metal. One of the ABB thugs' pistols—I'd nabbed it from the gangbanger's place. To my eyes it looked cheap, but I had only seen guns a few times before, mostly farmer's rifles used to shoot invasive pests like rabbits and foxes.

I stood up, examining the weapon in the dim light filtering through the broken windows. My heart was racing, but not from fear. This was scientific curiosity, I told myself. I needed to know my limits. My flinch when the woman tried to shoot me was forgotten, I assured myself.

"This is either really smart or really stupid," I muttered, checking that the gun was loaded. My ki was primed, rushing beneath my skin.

I pressed the barrel against my left calf, aiming at the edge of the 'meat', took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. For a moment, all I could hear was ringing. Then pain bloomed in my leg. It felt like being hit with a hammer, a deep throbbing bruise rather than the tearing agony I'd anticipated.

The bullet fell to the floor, flattened like it had hit steel. My leg was already bruising spectacularly, but the skin wasn't even broken.

"Well," I said to the empty room, grinning like a loon, "that's good to know."

I picked up the squashed bullet, turning it over in my fingers. Regular guns couldn't seriously hurt me. Although I judged being shot somewhere sensitive like my eyes would be extremely dangerous, possibly fatal.

I decided to leave the bruise to heal on its own, to see how my body recovered without actively forcing it to heal. I tucked the gun and bullet into my bag—evidence to dispose of later.

As I finally lay down to sleep, my mind was turning over and over. If a bullet could only bruise, what else could I shrug off? How much stronger could I get? The Saiyan part of me purred with satisfaction. I fell asleep a few minutes later on the cold, rotting carpet with only a backpack for comfort. I slept like a baby.

Chapter 7: Making Waves

The Docks - Two weeks later

A few weeks can change a lot. The docks were still a mess of abandoned buildings, poverty and criminal activity, but I'd carved out my own little corner of it. Word had obviously spread about the new cape staking out territory. The ABB's low-level enforcers had learned to watch the rooftops, and their protection racket had gotten noticeably scarce in my usual patrol area.

I'd established a routine of sorts. During the day, I'd train, pushing my limits further and further. Moving was becoming faster, with some of my longer jumps beginning to feel promisingly 'floaty'. My strength and durability grew steadily as I spent hours sweating, hefting huge pieces of scrap until my fingers began to dig into the rusted steel. Ki blasts still eluded me though, I'd gotten a few sparks, but nothing actually useful.

If I stood on the docks and 'charged' my Ki as much as I dared it made small waves across the water when I 'released', plus a small flash of light. But no energy blast. I even tried shouting and pushing the energy as hard as I dared, but at a certain point it felt like I was going to explode. I got the feeling I was missing something. Perhaps when I was stronger I'd be able to create proper blasts. Maybe.

It was the only guess I had to go on. If the show had ever explained how flying and Ki blasts were supposed to work, I couldn't remember it.

Other Ki abilities proved equally elusive. During fights I sometimes felt glimpses of awareness which might have been 'sensing' my opponent's energy. Otherwise I simply felt sharper with each victory. As easy as it was disarming and knocking out gangbangers, the regular confrontations were making me stronger somehow…

The less said about my attempts at learning telepathy the better. That poor seagull…

My healing was… somewhat stagnant, the PRT had arranged for me to heal at a local hospital. It turned out to be frustratingly boring. My powers limited me to mostly post-op and emergencies, and after being out on the streets chasing sirens, sitting around waiting for the ambulances to come to me seemed counter productive. The extremely icy reception from my fellow healer, Panacea, didn't help things. Clearly she blamed me for what happened with her sister and wasn't above being a total bitch about it.

So I swore off volunteering for now. I could save more lives doing my own thing and get more combat experience at the same time.

The worst part of my training was the dreaded, horrific self-torture I called tail training. I was not the kind of fool who would ignore such a glaring weak spot—or tell people about it, looking at you Alexandria—and I remembered that Vegeta managed to overcome the painful, paralyzing effect of having his tail grabbed via training. So I devoted ten minutes every other day to squeezing, pulling and otherwise abusing my poor tail. It was pure hell, but I'd made slow progress. Even if it left me aching for hours, for some reason my tail seemed strangely resistant to healing, the flow of energy inside of it was… strange.

Even with training and healing my tail was starting to rebel against its confinement. Weeks of keeping it hidden in my jeans had led to a constant, aching stiffness which was only temporarily relieved by swapping the direction it wrapped around my waist. For now I just ignored the pain, but I got the sense that ignoring it wasn't going to make the problem go away. The only relief came from letting it 'hang', which I only ever did when I was sure I was alone, camped out in the abandoned buildings I called home.

Sleeping rough was surprisingly easy with my new physique. I had no trouble falling asleep on cold concrete and my morning hygiene routine—a quick swim in the freezing water of the bay—felt like a refreshing shower instead of a date with hypothermic shock.

Evenings were for patrol. Nothing official, mostly running around, trying to sniff out trouble. I tended to end up near the edge of the docks, where it bordered onto homes and businesses. Mostly because that's where crackheads and gangsters could be found with any regularity.

Some of the local businesses had taken to leaving out food or offering their bathrooms for use after hours. It was a small but humbling show of support, even if they still hung red Chinese lanterns to broadcast their proper 'respect' to Lung's enforcers. The food was nice, but I was still hungry most of the time. My padding of fat was melting away and I knew I'd have to find a new source of food sooner rather than later. I didn't mind too much, the hunger kept me sharp, kept me focused.

I'd even run into a few daring 'cape spotters' who stopped me for a photo and autograph. It was strange but I managed to muddle through the encounters without dropping my proverbial spaghetti.

As time passed I began to recognize the rhythm of the streets. The homeless population had their own territories and hierarchies, and some had become useful sources of information, once I proved I wasn't hostile. Old Pete, who lived in a converted shipping container near the waterfront, always pointed me towards somebody in need of help or healing (or a beatdown). Despite my investigations, I hadn't found any leads on Skidmark and Squealer. Word was they were recruiting mules and muscle from the locals in the area, but limited their pushing to other parts of the city. I wondered if it was careful strategy or simple economics which kept them from shitting where they ate.

Most days I dealt with the ABB, who were always looking to expand their foothold in the docks, wherever I spotted their enforcers I made sure to send them packing. My durability was put to the test when an ABB gang member surprised me with a sawn off shotgun to the face. Turns out my newfound toughness did extend to my eyes, but it still hurt like… well it hurt like a poke in the eye.

I had only encountered the Empire once so far, when I randomly encountered a pair of skinheads shoving a dark skinned homeless man into a van, apparently as live bait for a dogfight. Fuckers. I'd made an example out of them, anybody who thought watching somebody being torn apart by dogs was a 'good time' deserved to walk with a limp.

Despite my harsh treatment, there were persistent rumors that I was associated with the Empire 88. Which I found extremely odd. I might be the right color palette, but Australia is a long way from Austria, ya'know? It was kind of darkly funny, since the Saiyans had apparently made the Nazis look like care bears while working for Frieza. I wonder what Kaiser's reaction would be if I told him the true 'master race' is actually a bunch of spikey haired space monkeys.

But success bred complications. The PRT had been watching more closely since I'd started making waves. Their patrols "coincidentally" intersected with mine more often than not, usually bringing another recruitment pitch and friendly warnings. The gangs were getting frustrated too—I'd heard from my homeless friends that both the Empire and the ABB were offering bounties for information about where I slept at night. So I started moving hideouts after every day or two.

More troubling were the signs that someone else had taken notice. Twice now I'd spotted the same unmarked van following me. Someone was mapping my movements. A certain Coily fellow perhaps? I was surprised he hasn't moved against me openly yet. But I suspected my Thinker immunity was giving him all sorts of headaches. I'd deal with him when the time came.

I should have been more concerned about all of this, the danger and uncertinty. But the truth was, I was loving every second of it. Each fight made me stronger, each challenge pushed me closer to what I knew a Saiyan could become. The human part of me recognized the danger in this growing addiction to conflict, but it was getting harder to care. No matter how careful I was, my future would inevitably include violence, why not have fun with it?

Tonight's patrol route would take me into new territory. I'd been avoiding the western edge of the Docks, where the old trainyard bled into abandoned industrial plots. Old Pete warned me that a cape had claimed that area as their territory—a cape who didn't take kindly to trespassers. Details were scarce but my vague memories suggested it was probably Bitch. I was confident enough that I could manipulate the Undersiders easily enough, even Tattletale. And if it came to a fight...

My Ki was practically humming at the prospect of a real challenge. These past two weeks had taught me that regular thugs, even heavily armed ones, barely qualified as a warm-up—I was just too fast, too strong, too tough; not to mention my senses which seemed to grow sharper day on day—a team of capes though? That could be interesting. I was pretty sure I could trade knowledge about Coil in exchange for a good spar or two.

I stretched, my tail adjusting its grip around my waist as I prepared to jump. The moon was waxing, nearly full. I was planning to hole up and wait out the full moon itself, since turning into a giant monkey monster would be bad, obviously. I recalled Vegeta could control his Oozaru form, but again the method eluded me. Maybe it's because he used that weird energy ball instead of the moon?

I'd considered cutting off my tail to avoid the possibility, but I'd grown attached to the thing, no pun intended. It was a part of me even if it was inconvenient sometimes. What's more I couldn't remember if there were side effects of removing the tail. Would it make me weaker? Or seal away my powers somehow? Gohan had needed his power unlocked by that huge namekian guy, was that because he lost his tail? I just didn't know.

—

The trainyard was a maze of rusted metal and long shadows. Abandoned carriages formed artificial canyons, their surfaces covered in layers of graffiti telling the history of gang conflicts through forgotten art. The air carried a strange mix of scents—oil, rust, and something else, a pungent chemical smell that made my nose twitch.

I moved openly, picking my way through the debris. I was pretty damn sneaky when I wanted to be, but Bitch's dogs and I would smell each other a mile off.

After nearly an hour of wandering I'd yet to catch more than the faded scent of dog, I was beginning to wonder if the tip was accurate. I took a deep sniff and failed to detect any of the lingering unpleasant smells that come with human habitation. Nobody lived here.

Frustrated, I was ready to return home when I noticed something promising. A piece of old railway equipment that looked like a piece of gym equipment. It was a train's axle and wheels, ripped away from a broken carriage with a large rusted chain hanging off of it. To me it looked just like a giant barbell. It groaned in protest as I lifted it slowly, testing the weight. Not bad, and easier on the hands than the scrap at the docks.

"One..." I began a set of curls, grinning at how natural it felt. Two weeks ago, this would have seemed impossible. Now it was just a good warm-up. "Two... three..."

A few reps turned into a dozen. Followed by some squats and overhead presses. I was building up a good sweat when a sudden whistle broke my concentration.

The corrugated iron fence to my left suddenly burst apart as a huge steel wrecking ball exploded through it, flying directly past me.

Completely on instinct I hefted the axel, holding it in a baseball grip and swinging it at the massive projectile. The impact caused my makeshift weapon to disintegrate in a scream of tearing metal and sent me flying backwards as the wrecking ball simply fell down in place, all of its momentum lost.

"Well what the fuck do we have here?" a nasally voice yelled out. I rose to see a figure emerge from between two train cars—a towering monster of iron and steel plates in the shape of a man, steam venting from blackened pipes and valves. Trainwreck. Definitely not who I'd expected to find here. Stupid mistake.

"Some thief stealing my shit?" He pulled his armor up to its full towering height atop a trainbed, and I watched as the 'wrecking ball' retracted into his mechanical arm with a pneumatic hiss.

"Sorry mate," I said, dusting myself off. "Thought this was someone else's territory. I'll just-"

The wrecking ball shot out again, this time curving through the air, its chain sweeping dangerously behind it, forcing me to jump out of the way. I landed lightly on top of a rusted train car.

"Nah, you don't get to walk away," Trainwreck's voice was pure anger. "See, I got this whole place set up just how I like it. Then some pretty boy in a hoodie just waltzes in, starts messing with MY stuff?". Another whistle as the wrecking ball was reeled in on a blackened chain. "That shit doesn't fly here. Time for a lesson in respect."

"Pretty boy?" I intoned incredulously.

Trainwreck grunted, reeling his flail back and picking up a rusted drum with the suit's other hand. In a clumsy toss he hefted it at me with a hiss of steam. I chose to bat it aside. I reached for my Ki, feeling the warm current of energy, marveling at how eagerly it responded.

"Alright that's it!" I said, dodging another shot from the ball. As the chain began to retract I grasped hold of it, jarring my shoulder but sending my hurtling towards the Trainwreck. He responded instantly, swinging his other massive hand to swat me like a bug. Ducking under it I struck the main body of the mech as hard as I could. I was rewarded with stinging knuckles and a nice dint in the thick metal plate. The impact caused Trainwreck to take a step backwards to avoid toppling over. He peered down at the damage incredulously.

"Fucking shit!" Trainwreck yelled, sweeping at me with his fully retracted flail.

I laughed as I jumped over it, landing lightly a few paces back. "Not bad, big guy. Let's dance."

Trainwreck's mech began to visibly heat up, steam and smoke pouring out from the exhaust pipes and as its engine chuffing faster. Suddenly he fired his wrecking ball again and sparks flashed between the links of the chain. Deciding not to touch the obviously electrified weapon, I dodged forwards, landing a few more solid hits before a sudden cloud of steam forced me back.

"Haha! Even better!" I crowed.

The fight continued for what felt like minutes, but was probably only a few seconds of short exchanges. Him trying to swat me like a bug or catch me with bursts of steam while I danced around his attacks, darting in to pound the heavy armor like a hammer.

As we fought I took note of several weak points on the mech's body, Hoses poking out in the joints, the conspicuous piping behind the armor plates. I was really starting to enjoy myself. Training and fighting were truly a Saiyan's dream. I was even considering dragging out the fight when my mantra went through my head.

Don't do a Vegeta!

The words I said every morning and every night. My personal prayer and solemn vow. If Saiyans demonstrated one consistent weakness: it was pride. How many times did they let a bad guy power up or change forms out of a sense of martial pride? Way too many to be a coincidence. Sayians were hardwired to seek out strong opponents. It made sense, that was how they became strong themselves.

Pulling your punches might work out in a universe which runs on shonen battle logic, where the good guys always pull through in a pinch. But the last few weeks had proven time and time again that Earth Bet is no place for heroes and happy endings.

Don't do a Vegeta!

Enough fucking around, time to end this.

Trainwreck seemed to be having a similar train of thought, face twisted in a scowl of concentration. He suddenly exploded forwards, pulling back his flail arm for a tremendous swing. As I prepared to dodge, he pivoted, kicking up a huge wave of dirt and gravel with a wheelbarrow sized boot. I ducked back, covering my eyes only to find Trainwreck had also retreated at the same time.

He ran into the corridor between two trains, standing atop an open flat bed wagon, completely filling the space between. Smart move. The position limited my approach to a penned in frontal assault or a precarious sprint across the edge of the open topped wagon 'walls'.

I took a breath, cycling my Ki and gathering my strength. I burst forwards, crossing half the distance between us in a moment. Trainwreck's surprise showed through the gaps in his metal grille helmet. He swung his hand. Too slow, I thought as I judged the distance, I'd be under his guard before he could hit me. There was a heavy mechanical clunk, as his swing connected with a track-switch lever incongruously attached the wagon.

The metal beneath my feet suddenly erupted in a shower of sparks and steam—A trap!—I tried to jump away, but wasn't faster than the electricity that arced through the metal grid. My muscles seized as the current ripped through me.

A massive mechanical fist closed around my torso, lifting me off the ground. "Not so fucking tough now, are you?" he snarled. "All that muscle, and you still went down like a little bitch."

I struggled against his grip, but my body wasn't responding properly. Through the pain, I could feel my ki surging, trying to heal the damage even as it was inflicted. Worse still—my tail was crushed awkwardly against my back, paralyzing me with lances of burning pain.

"See, that's what you assholes never get," he continued ranting, steam hissing from his joints as he started to squeeze. "You think just 'cause you've got powers, you can go wherever you want? Take whatever you want? Nah. This is MY territory. And I've got something special for little pricks who don't show proper respect."

The pressure was becoming unbearable. I could feel my ribs creaking under the mechanical grip. In desperation, I managed to shift just enough to free my tail from where it was crushed against my back. It lashed out instinctively, smacking against Trainwreck's pimpled face and drawing a startled curse.

"What the fuck?" His grip loosened slightly. "You've got a fucking tail?"

"Yeah," I wheezed out, playing up my gasps for air. "Woke up … like this … a few weeks ago…"

The pressure eased further. I could practically hear the gears turning in Trainwreck's head. "You're a Case 53?"

I shrugged as best I could in his grip. "I can't remember anything, ever since I woke up in this shithole of a city with a monkey tail and powers."

"Shit." Trainwreck said contemplatively. Gradually lowered me to the ground, though his grip remained tight and the jerky motion of his armor caused my head to whip back and forth. "Why didn't you fucking say so?"

"I didn't want people to know. Not many cunts with tails running around ya know?" I let my accent come to the front, playing up my fear, "I didn't want to end up in a lab somewhere."

Trainwreck looked at me suspiciously, greasy lips mouthing silently.

"Look mate, I was just looking for somewhere to train. This stuff," I jerked my head towards the train parts, "It's the first decently heavy thing found that doesn't break or give me metal splinters."

Steam hissed from Trainwreck's joints as he leaned in to study me. "You really don't remember anything?"

"I know I'm from Australia… or maybe New Zealand with this accent. But before waking up in the Bay?" I shook my head. "Fuck all."

"Fuck." Trainwreck's posture shifted, becoming less aggressive. "That's rough. The memory shit... yeah, I get that."

There was an awkward moment as we considered each other. I could probably finish him off, despite my injuries. But the thrill of battle had faded as quickly as it came, leaving me feeling oddly saited.

I slowly got to my feet. "I'll clear out, find somewhere else to-"

"Hold up." Trainwreck's mechanical hand raised. "You said you need heavy weights? Stuff that won't break?" He made a snort of something resembling mirth. "Maybe we can help eachother out, you get some shit for me and I'll build something nice and heavy"."

I blinked, surprised at his sudden turn of mood then gave a careful nod. "That would be perfect."

"Just don't touch anything that looks important, and we're good." He turned back toward his workshop, then paused. "And next time? Fucking knock."

—

Six days later

Trainwreck's requests proved to be fairly pedestrian. Alcohol, wet wipes, other sundries. No food, but I soon learned that his amorphous body produced its own energy, sustaining him and acting as a power source for the mechanical shell he'd built around himself. Visiting his 'workshop' became part of my routine. Partially to make good on our deal, partially because behind the jerk persona, Trainwreck was surprisingly good company... Well, good was an exaggeration, but we had enough in common to get along, plus he was about as subtle as a brick to the teeth. If he was planning to fuck me over, I'd see it coming.

As I approached the workshop I made sure to knock loudly on a metal container to announce myself, Shave and a Haircut—Bang Bang.

"Asshole," Trainwreck growled from his workbench as I entered, his human face scowling above his cobbled-together mechanical body. Various parts were spread out before him, it looked like a pile of scrap to me. "You bring the stuff?"

I dropped a plastic bag on the bench. "Whiskey, wipes, and weird copper polish."

"Good shit man." He fished out the whiskey with one of his smaller mechanical hands, his form shifting slightly within its metal housing as he drank. I was polite enough not to stare at the occasional glimpses of his true body through the gaps in his armor. "Are you staying for a session?"

'Session' was our word for the peculiar arrangement we'd developed. He would tinker, while I'd exercise with the equipment he'd slapped together, occasionally trading insults and observations about Cape life in the Bay. Sometimes we'd spar and sometimes I helped him salvage particularly delicate or fiddly parts. All in all it was a lot better than my old workout routine—hefting crates of rotten fishing nets in a rusty warehouse while breathing asbestos dust probably wasn't good for my health.

"Yep," I said. "Had another run-in with Armsmaster last night."

That got his attention. "That stuck-up prick? Tell me you finally decked him."

"Nah, just the usual… condescending advice and a recruitment pitch." I started my warm-up with a train axle turned barbell, using it for shoulder presses.

"Fucking heroes," he spat, his real face twisting in disgust as he turned back to his work. "They think they own the whole damn city."

I didn't point out the hypocrisy of him criticizing territorial behavior. Instead, I watched him work while continuing my exercises. His creations were fascinating—crude-looking but surprisingly sophisticated, all powered by his own body's energy… somehow. Despite his thuggish personality, he was always strangely careful and methodical while tinkering, almost reverent.

"Speaking of territory," he said suddenly, "Heard Skidmark is pushing south. Might want to keep an eye out."

This was the other part of our arrangement—information trading. Trainwreck knew an awful lot for a violent recluse who lived in a trash heap, and he seemed to enjoy playing the role of informant.

"Thanks for the heads up." I moved on to using a smaller wrecking ball as a medicine ball. "You need anything else this week?"

"Nah, I'm good. Don't come back before Friday. I'm busy." He paused, then added, "Watch yourself though. Skidmarks been recruiting. Word is he's got some new cape, a big guy."

I nodded, filing that information away. Mush probably. Strange as it was, I trusted Trainwreck's intel—even if I knew he was almost certainly passing information about me straight back to Coil and the Merchants. Well they say all war is deception…

"Are you still planning on heading North?" He asked with all the subtlety of a… him.

"Yep." I breathed out between lifts, "As soon as it gets—a little warmer—Boston—probably—well… anywhere really."

It was a fabrication I'd been telling him since we met. I figured Coil and the gangs might be more reluctant to move against me if they believed I was going to move away on my own. Their loss—by the time they realised I was sticking around, they would be in no position to stop me.

"You ever remember anything?" he asked suddenly, his face showing a rare moment of vulnerability. "About before?"

The question caught me off guard. "Not really," I lied smoothly. "Dreams sometimes, but nothing solid. You?"

"Same." His mechanical shell creaked as he shifted uncomfortably. "Fucking sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed quietly, feeling a twinge of guilt about the deception. "Yeah, it does."

We lapsed into comfortable silence after that, broken only by the clank of weights and the hiss of steam. It wasn't friendship exactly—we were both too paranoid for that—but it was... something at least… I might have been lying about being a Case 53, but I knew what it was like to be ripped away from everything you knew, transformed in body and mind without consent. Behind his crude persona was a human being who had been completely and utterly fucked over by the world. It was easy to judge him as an outsider, see all the ways he could change for the better... but if I was in his non-existent shoes—I'm pretty sure I would be just as bitter.

Besides, I thought as I watched him assemble a new machine which looked like a torture device for an Autobot. It didn't hurt to have a friendly tinker who owed me a favor.

—

As the week rounded out I found myself growing anxious and uneasy. I was fairly sure that Taylor's debut was imminent, but I suspected the feeling was more from the influence of the moon.

As the sense of disquiet mounted, I found it began to affect me in other ways. My Ki would surge and splutter at seemingly random times and my sleep was plagued with vague nightmares of catastrophic destruction—Not Leviathan I told myself, It's too soon.

I felt a steadily growing, insatiable hunger—which wasn't unusual, vigilantism saw me skipping meals pretty regularly. But I'd learned that this type of hunger equated to Saiyan bloodlust, or at least my new hunger for battle.

The day of the moonrise I found myself sitting on a rooftop, eating lunch while intently double checking the calendar on my communicator. Moonrise was 2:15PM, a bit over two hours away.

I thought it was a little strange. In stories with werewolves and magic involving the full moon, it always seemed to rise at night. But of course the full moon was just as common during the day, even if it was less visible. Could Oozaru even appear in the daytime? I'd rather not find out.

Better safe than sorry.

I jumped down off the top of the building, landing easily five stories below, smiling to myself. That never stopped being cool.

I cut my way across the docks, heading to a building I'd picked out for the moonrise. It was an old warehouse of some kind that I'd slept in a couple of times. The interior was in good shape, plus there were cargo containers inside which I could seal myself in. Two layers of protection against the moon.

When I arrived the hairs on my neck prickled as I picked up an unusual scent. Cigar ash and herbal incense. I'l smelt the same scent on ABB members a few times before, and now it was faintly present in the yard outside the warehouse.

Fuck.

I couldn't stay here… if they attacked me during the full moon…

I left the yard, checking the time. I still had over an hour. I could easily go somewhere else but their presence here concerned me deeply. How had they known?

I decided to hole up somewhere new. They couldn't find me somewhere I'd never been before.

I ended up at a tall, barbed wire topped fence surrounding a dusty worksite. The sun bleached sign outside named it "SCC. Ship Construction Company" and it seemed abandoned for many years. Amongst the rusted trailers and rubbish there was a large windowless quonset hut I assumed was once used to keep sunlight away from off the fiberglass resin as it set.

The door to the huts were locked but a little bit of forceful persuasion opened it quickly.

Looking around the interior I judged it was pretty well suited to waiting out my condition. There were no windows and the door closed smoothly. I could easily pile some junk up in front of it to prevent any visitors. Not perfect, but better than somewhere my enemies might find me while I was vulnerable.

Good enough for tonight. I'd need to find a better solution before the next full moon.

—

Hours passed as I irritably waited out the moon. It was hot and stuffy in the shed and there was little to distract me. None of the detritus in the shed was intact or heavy enough to use as weights, and my own roiling Ki, paired with the knowledge that moonlight was just outside the very thin walls kept me from meditating.

For an hour or two I browsed the PHO. Checking to see if there were any new posts about Brockton Bay—Definitely not scouring old threads for any mention of the name Polaris. But even my once beloved pastime of doom scrolling was ruined by this damned universe. I'd been spoiled by the technology and culture of 2024. The internet of this Earth was painfully slow and the phone/communicator Armsmaster had loaned me was a poor tool for mindlessly consuming slop.

As the sun began to set, a new problem presented itself. The shed, while windowless, wasn't exactly airtight. Thin strips of fading daylight penetrated through bolt holes and gaps in the corrugated metal, drawing patterns on the dusty floor. What if moonlight could get through those same gaps? How did the transformation even work? Did I need some level of skin exposure or was just seeing the moon enough? I wrapped myself up in whatever I could to cover my skin anyway. Couldn't hurt.

My tail lashed anxiously against the floor as I paced. The sound of sirens in the distance made my Ki spike involuntarily. Somewhere out there, people needed help, and here I was, hiding in a shed like a… I caught the smell of smoke on the wind. There must be a fire somewhere, I thought.

I longed for some action. I'd gotten used to crushing criminals and kicking Trainwreck's metal ass around the trainyard. I'd give anything just for a distraction.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, pulling out the phone again. The PHO thread about Polaris is still open. For a moment I was tempted to make an account and get it authenticated, if only for the distraction, before deciding not to. No advantage to be gained—I'd only be feeding thinkers like Tattletale.

More sirens joined the first. Something big was going down. My fingers drummed against the concrete floor, leaving small cracks. The Saiyan part of me was screaming to go out there, and I ruthlessly pushed it down.

Then I caught it—a scent creeping in through the cracks in the hut—several people approaching, their sweat tinged with smoke and nervousness. But among them... my nose twitched. Expensive tobacco, cigar-ash, and something else. Something that made the air taste like metal and ozone. And there was another scent, burnt plastic and floral soap.

A man's voice rang out, commanding and lightly asian-accented, "Your informant is certain the healer uses this place?"

"Yes, sir. Very reliable source." Another man responded nervously.

My hands shook slightly as I pulled out the phone. Keep it simple.

To: Armsmaster: Lung + ABB at SCC building. I am trapped. NEED HELP NOW

I could hear many feet crunching the gravel, picking their way through the lot, surrounding the hut. A new smell appeared, the overwhelming stink of gasoline. A moment later the distinctive 'crash-woof' of a molotov cocktail breaking and igniting.

A woman scoffed indignantly and Lung growled in response.

Through gaps in the wall, firelight began to cast dancing patterns in the hut. They were going to burn me out.

I guess we're doing this. Sorry tail. I gripped my tail with both hands and pulled as hard as I could. Excruciating pain filled me and I stopped after a few seconds, falling to my knees gasping. That wasn't going to work. I couldn't pull off my tail any more than I could pull off my own arm. I started looking around the hut for anything sharp enough to use as a blade. Impromptu amputation it is.

"Polaris!" Lung's voice boomed across the compound. "You have caused my people much trouble. Attacked my men. Disrupted my business." A pause, punctuated by the crackle of flames. "But I am reasonable. Surrender now, and you can make amends. Your power... it could help many people. As my servant, you would want for nothing."

Haha, no thanks bro. Giving up on my search for a blade, I yanked off my hoodie, quickly tore a sleeve. A blindfold. If I can't get rid of the tail I have to keep the moonlight away.

"Remember," Lung rumbled, closer now. "I want him alive"

After one last glance at my phone—no response—I tied the makeshift blindfold tight, plunging myself into darkness. The heat was already growing. I had to move.

"Last chance," he called out, voice growing more inhuman. "Submit to usss, or we will take you by forssse."

"Now or never," I muttered, gathering my unruly Ki. I couldn't fight Lung blind, but I could run. I tried to remember the layout of the yard. A bunch of crap here, a rusted fence there. I judged it to be about 30 meters to the back of the lot and freedom. From there I just needed a hole to hide in for a few more hours. Assuming I didn't transform as soon as the moonlight touched my skin.

As the flames began to crinkle the metal walls of the shed I unleashed my gathered energy, bursting blindly through the side wall, away from where I heard Lung's voice. For a moment, I thought I'd made it.

There was a strange sound, a pneumatic hiss, followed by a "thunk". For a single, timeless moment I could clearly hear the sound of something whistling through the air towards me before a sharp metal tink.

The pain hit like nothing I'd ever experienced. Every nerve ending screamed at once. I fell gracelessly, tumbling through a pile of scrap and landing face down. I didn't feel the sharp metal digging into me, or the dirt and smoke in my eyes. Only the burning, all consuming echo of complete agony. I could smell my clothes beginning to smoulder but I could do nothing but stare down into the dirt, unable to even close my eyes in the aftershock of the pain weapon.

Tinkertech pain grenade, I thought numbly. Bakuda.

Heavy footsteps approached and scaled hands grabbed me, casually strong. I was lifted and thrown bodily, landing hard on my back beside the burning building.

Lung appeared above me, looking down callously with a serpent's smile on deformed lips. He was a giant—easily eight feet tall—metal scales glinting in the light of the flames. And above him…

The full moon hung perfectly overhead behind him, its light flooding my eyes.

There was no time.

There was no escape.

There was only the moon, and what we became.

Interlude 2.1 Starfall

Kenta - T + 0 minutes

Lung watched with satisfaction as the healer writhed in pain. Good. Let him learn the price of defiance. This moment of defeat would make him more... receptive to reason.

Flames cast dancing shadows across the yard as Lung lifted the prone rogue. His lieutenants had described Polaris as a capable warrior, and Lung believed them after seeing his speed. But holding the man in his hand he felt his superiority, there was no need to stretch things out. Lung was stronger, Lung was always stronger.

This man—Polaris—had another power, healing. A power the ABB lacked, something which the dogs of the Empire lorded over him at every chance. Such a gift would cement the ABB's dominance. Restoring his loyal troops to health quickly and cheaply was an obvious boon. And simply knowing they would be healed would make his soldiers fight harder.

His newest soldier, Bakuda, watched silently, fingering the trigger of her grenade launcher. She had potential, both as a follower and perhaps even as a leader under him one day. Oni Lee was a capable follower but never a leader. This lesson was for her as much as it was for the rogue.

He threw the healer down harshly, but not brutally, letting him feel what awaited him if he continued to resist. Eight feet tall now, and growing. Metal scales gleaming. The dragon ascended. This Polaris was wild and soft. He would learn fear and become tame, all that was needed was a lesson.

Healer's eyes went wide with fear, just as planned. Lung had seen fear before—he cultivated it, relished it. But… This was different. This was…

The Healer began to scream and transform rapidly, Lung glanced at Bakuda, thinking it had been one of her more exotic bombs that caused the sudden change. Bakuda looked as surprised as him.

Polaris' bones cracked and reformed. Muscles tore free from skin as it bulged impossibly. The healer's body convulsed violently as it expanded. Dark fur erupted across bulging skin as his face and teeth elongated. The transformation didn't slow as Polaris rose to his feet unsteadily. Ten feet. Twenty. Forty. Even larger.

Lung's own transformation accelerated, responding to the mounting threat. Scales sprouted, faster than they had ever before. The scale of the threat and danger is always related to the speed of his inner dragons' emergence. But even when facing the Leviathan it was never so fast. Fire bloomed in his chest, and he unleashed a torrent of heat which could wilt steel—

The creature that had been the Polaris ignored the flames even as they blackened his fur. Ninety feet of twisted animal, like a giant mutated macaque. Its maw was long and full of fangs the size of cars. It threw its head back and beat its chest as the moon above haloed its head. He—It glared down at Lung with eyes glowing red as hellfire. Its maw opened in a roar that shook Kenta's bones.

"Kill him!" Lung commanded, unleashing a torrent of flame.

It didn't even seem to notice. Lung lept back, his strength allowing him to cross the yard in a single bound.

His soldiers fired their weapons to no effect. One of Bakuda's bombs exploded half way up the monster's chest, encasing its arms and torso in an enormous iceberg. The beast simply shrugged, shattering the ice and sending it flying in car sized chunks. Its tail, thick as a bus, swept across the yard, crushing the soldiers who hadn't retreated far enough.

Too slow, Lung realized. His transformation was too slow, even at the unprecedented speed of his current growth. He needed time to grow stronger. He sent another stream of fire at the monster's face as his own mouth split into multiple jaws and giant, scaled wings emerged from his back.

The beast reared back as the flames washed over its face. The monster's chest expanded, and Kenta recognized the movement from his own pyrokinesis. He danced backwards as a blinding glow erupted from its mouth, but he wasn't fast enough. Not nearly fast enough.

I'll never die, Lung thought. I might fall, but I'll come back again and again. I might falter, but I'll return with twice the fury.

The blast caught him mid-leap. Scales melted and flesh vaporized in a flash of pain. His heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest drowning out the roar of the beam attack. His heart pounded faster and faster, he felt his arms and legs dissolving, he had never been burned before and the pain of it shocked him. Suddenly he remembered the day he had become a dragon and the vow he had made choking on his own last breath.

I'll be more careful of who I fight in the future—

Two Entities danced across a sea of distant lights, diving through the waves between dimensions.

They were traveling, Kenta realised, and his mind traveled with them. The pace seemed incredibly slow, but the destination was simply so distant that even their lightning pace appeared glacial. The distant lights were stars, he realised, the ones closest rushing by like leaves in a river.

A third entity approached, crossing their planned trajectory. An unexpected threat, or opportunity…

—Kenta felt the dragon inside him suddenly rage against the blinding energy, his limbs reformed and he grew to full size in an instant. Larger than ever before, even larger than when he fought Leviathan, but still not even half the height of the apelike titan.

He took to the air, avoiding a crushing swipe. His claws raked up the chest of the thing, drawing rivers of dark blood. As he reached the face of the monster he dove forwards, clawing at the creature's face and eyes. An enormous fist caught him in the chest, shattering bones and scales and sending him tumbling back to the dirt.

Lung scrambled blindly, standing on all fours. One of the monster's legs was now encased in a black, glowing mass with veins of magma glow. It clawed at the mass, pulling away long stretchy ropes, like melted cheese.

Bakuda was retreating across the yard, using the remaining building as cover. Wise of her. Lung felt his body finish healing and took to the skies again. As he considered his next move a new sound filled the night air.

A wailing siren coming from a hundred different speakers.

—

Armsmaster

Armsmaster was already moving, responding to a string of arsons when a message came through. His HUD highlighted the text overlay as his motorcycle carved through the streets.

Polaris: - "Lung + ABB at SCC building. I am trapped. NEED HELP NOW" -

-Console, this is Armsmaster. En route to 47 Orlent street. Lung confirmed on site, engaging independent cape Polaris. Requesting immediate reinforcement.-

He'd given the new cape an emergency communicator for exactly this scenario. Independent heroes rarely lasted long without support, especially in Brockton Bay.

ETA 2 minutes.

His HUD began picking up thermal signatures well before visual range, the ambient temperature rising steadily. Lung was already transforming. Then something changed. The thermal reading spiked so dramatically that his sensors flagged it as an explosion.

The roar hit him like a physical wave. His audio dampeners kicked in automatically, saving his eardrums, but the sound still rattled his teeth. Around him, car alarms triggered in cascades. His motorcycle's front wheel lifted slightly from the concussive force.

-Console, be advised, major parahuman event in progress. Investigating- he cut off as he rounded the final corner.

Where the boat building facility had once stood, something was rising. His helmet's visual enhancement struggled make out the figure amidst the smoke and flames, automatically adjusting magnification and reference points. Whatever it was, the figure was bigger than Lung.

A lot bigger.

-Dragon?- he subvocalized, activating their private channel. -Are you seeing this?-

-One moment. Ok I'm here- She replied a moment later. -Colin, what is that?-

The creature opened its maw. The thermal reading peaked again as a stream of plasma swept across the yard. Concealing the massive figure in a plume of ash and fire.

-Console, this is Armsmaster. Override all channels- Armsmaster said, forcing his voice to remain clinical. He paused…

"Giant" was too generic, and had a chance for confusion with Lung. "Colossal" had too many syllables for radio chatter. "Simian" - was too clinical. The creature bellowed again, and Colin made his decision.

What else do you call a hundred-foot tall monkey? He thought.

-We have an emerging situation. Lung and an unknown cape are fighting in the south docks. The unknown cape, designation 'Kong' displays titanic size, extreme brute abilities and energy projection. Height is approximately 100 feet.-

The figure's tail swept through a warehouse. The steel and concrete building disintegrated as if it was made of matchsticks. The creature's speed defied its massive bulk, each movement filled with obvious agression. Those burning red eyes…

Dragon's voice cut through his analysis. -I'm launching my nearest suit now. ETA 37 minutes. The Guild has been notified. Just... please stay safe until I get there.-

Armsmaster continued, addressing every PRT agent and cape currently active. "Kong resembles like a giant ape with the face of a wolf. If you see a hundred foot tall wolf-monkey, you're looking at him. The tail is a weapon, along with the rest of his body. Current behavior indicates aggressive destruction of buildings and population centers." He paused for a moment "Activate the Endbringer sirens. Get people into the shelters. That's an order."

The beast bellowed again, a sound of primal fury that made the hair on his neck stand up. Its massive form moved with swiftness, despite its size. It took obvious pleasure in knocking down the buildings it passed as it chased after Lung. Sweeping its tail and stomping to ensure nothing was left but rubble.

He watched as the creature's fur bristled, moonlight gleaming off its massive form. It was far bigger than any parahuman changer on record. If this was a new Endbringer, they needed every second of data they could gather. Even if the cost of it might prove fatal.

"Beginning engagement."

He opened the throttle of his cycle, speeding towards the ongoing fight. His current weapon was sorely lacking in size compared to the monster, even if fully embedded the cutting blade would probably only barely pierce the skin. He wished that he had completed his nanothorn weapon, that would have been useful here.

Instead he thumbed a switch as he unfolded his halberd, a long specialised needle extended from the end of the blade with a click. He held the halberd like a knight's lance, tucking it beneath his elbow and steering with his free hand.

The ground was littered with rubble and chunks of melting ice. Armsmaster had no idea where the ice had come from, but it made the ground treacherously slick. He felt his bike tilt and jerk underneath him, automatic stabilizers keeping him upright.

Lung was flying above Kong, hovering just out of reach while sending torrents of fire down. Armsmaster was nearly at Kong's heel when it hunched down and suddenly leapt into the air. A cloud of concrete dust engulfed Armsmaster and he swerved to avoid the new crater left in its wake.

He circled his bike out of the dust. Kong had completely cleared the ship construction yard with his jump and landed in a truck depot across the street, some 300 feet away. Lung was still airborne and sending more streams of fire.

Armsmaster saw a bright glow appear in the wolflike mouth of the titan, Lung must have seen it too as he spiraled away desperately. A static charge filled the air and his visor began glitching.

The light erupted in a blinding blue beam which lit up the sky. Kong swept his head, tracking Lung and catching one of his wings with the trailing end of the laser. Lung flapped desperately but began to steadily lose altitude.

-Console be advised, I'm confirming that Kong has an extremely powerful Blaster attack, watch for a blue glow in its mouth. Do not get hit!-

Armsmaster took the opportunity to close the last few yards and drive his halberd into the soft flesh behind the monster's ankle. He knew that people had a cluster of veins there, and he was betting that this thing did too. The pressurised syringe filled with tinkertech tranquilisers detached from the rest of the assembly, remaining behind to finish injecting its payload as he spun his vehicle around to make his escape.

Kong clearly noticed the mosquito bite, as it violently stamped its feet, causing the ground to fissure and erupt across the street.

Armsmaster gunned it, as the titan abandoned its attack on Lung to pursue this new prey. Each thunderous footstep behind him sent tremors through the ground that threatened to throw his motorcycle off course.

-Console. I've engaged Kong directly and administered sedative C9. Target is in pursuit. He's fast and he can jump approximately 500 feet.-

-Copy that. Reinforcements are inbound. Hang tight.-

A massive shadow fell over him as Kong's fist crashed down behind his rear wheel. Armsmaster gunned the engine as the ground bucked up below him. Tossing him and his motorcycle up into the air. Once again gyroscopes and stabilizers jerked the bike, righting it mid air and straightening the wheels before he landed.

"Armsmaster!" Dauntless' voice crackled through the comms as he swooped in. His arclance extended, crashing into the titan's face with no obvious effect.

"Stay high and keep mobile!" Armsmaster commanded, "Don't give it a stationary target and don't fly between it and the city."

"Affirmative."

Kong looked like it was about to begin charging another blast when Lung swooped in from behind, looking like a demon from the cover of a heavy metal album. His rear claws dug into the shoulders of the titanic ape and he reached forwards over the top of its head, scratching and tearing at its face.

Kong roared in rage, grabbing Lung with shocking speed and throwing him down into a building which immediately collapsed.

A cloud of dust covered the street and Armsmasters visor struggled to produce a visual from his various sensors. "Can you see him?" he asked Dauntless.

Dauntless coughed as he replied, "I can't see anything, there's too much smoke."

The wind finally cleared the obscuring cloud of debris and Armsmaster saw the giant ape was standing in the middle of the street almost motionless. Lung was still moving, tail partially visible as he worked to free himself from the ruins of the building. Dauntless hung motionless overhead, watching the tableau.

For a moment it looked like Kong was going to unleash another beam attack. His enormous mouth opened wide but there was no accompanying glow. Instead there was a massive, jaw-stretching yawn that revealed rows of fangs the size of telephone poles.

"Console, the sedative is taking effect. Kong shows signs of motor impairment and fatigue." He accelerated out from under the creature as it swayed slightly. "Gallant, when you arrive, I want you to hit it with every calming effect you can project. Amplify the sedative."

"Copy that," Gallant's voice came through, steady despite the circumstances. "We're almost there. I can see him. That thing is… big."

"Focus, Aegis put Gallant down somewhere with a good line of sight, not on top of a building. Dauntless, provide aerial support but maintain distance. Do not engage directly."

"Yes, sir." Three voices replied at once.

The massive creature's aggressive posture relaxed slightly, its red eyes growing heavy-lidded. It took a stumbling step, then another, clearly fighting the growing drowsiness. A hand reached out to steady itself against a building, breaking through and demolishing the building's corner.

C'mon big guy. Time to go to sleep, Armsmaster thought desperately as the creature's eyes drooped shut.

Armsmaster did the mental calculations quickly, estimating the creature's weight to be over a hundred tonnes.

-Console, patch me through to Kid Win and Shadow Stalker immediately.-

"Kid Win here," came a nervous response, followed by Shadow Stalker's terse "Copy."

"Kid Win, I need you to retrieve the C9 tranquilisers from my lab. Vials and Injectors. As many as you can carry. There's a spare injector halberd in the armory already loaded, CW-N6, bring it as well. Shadow Stalker, I need you here now. How many tranq arrows do you have?"

"Twenty four, three heavy-duty," Shadow Stalker replied. "On approach now."

The beast was slowing but still advancing, each step taking it closer to the residential areas beyond the docks. Its movements were sluggish now, almost drunk, but its size meant even stumbling steps covered enormous ground.

Aegis arrived, hovering besides Dauntless in the sky.

"Ok, here goes." Gallant said.

A barrage of blue bolts flew up at Kong's head, disappearing in sparking blue splashes as they sunk into his flesh.

One of Kong's hands came up to wave away the bolts, as if they were an annoying swarm of gnats. Another huge yawn came as the creature slumped to its haunches. Further down the street, Lung emerged from the rubble, pulling himself upright with a flap of one of his sets of wings. His snakelike head surveyed the scene cautiously, swaying side to side. He began to back away slowly.

I'm going to get hell for triggering the Endbringer alert, Armsmaster realised as he watched the scene. Oh well, it was completely justified. Those beams were no joke… He consoled himself before suddenly realising. How are we even going to arrest this guy?

He was pondering the logistics of detaining a hundred foot tall cape who could casually tear apart buildings when a figure strode into the street from the ruined ship construction lot. A dark haired woman in a gas mask wielding some kind of firearm.

Lung saw the woman and hissed threateningly. He sounded like a crocodile rumble mixed with a steam engine.

The woman in the gas mask considered Lung, tilting her head almost mockingly before hefting the weapon—a grenade launcher—and deliberately chambering a round with a thunk sound. She squared her shoulders and pivoted towards Kong.

Armsmaster twisted his bike's throttle as the trio of flyers above swooped in to intercept. They had no chance of reaching her in time as the woman didn't even hesitate before firing the grenade towards Kong.

There was a pneumatic thud as the silver cylinder was ejected.

His visor tracked it as it flew, striking Kong in the back of his neck. It exploded in an eye watering corona of color, unfurling and collapsing all at once. Armsmaster felt his bike shift oddly, trying to compensate as the explosion formed into a black sphere a foot across. He felt his stomach turn as a wave of vertigo washed over him. Trash and loose debris began to tumble across the ground towards Kong on their own.

A sudden whistling roar filled the air, like a high powered water jet cutter.

It's a naked singularity. The analytical voice he'd come to recognise as part of his power supplied. Highly Dangerous. Inefficient. Temporary.

He began to shout a warning, but the flying heroes were already pulling away from the gravity of the singularity instantly. Aegis was being pulled by the Dauntless and they were slowly making distance.

The singularity shredded the back of Kong's neck in an instant, revealing muscle bone.

Impossibly fast, one of his hands slapped the orb, like a person swatting a fly. Kong's eyes snapped open and he growled as he rose to his feet.

Kong inspected the mote of destruction in his palm, as parts of buildings and vehicles began to slide towards it. He visibly struggled with the orb, fighting to prevent his fingers from forming a fist around it. Armsmaster saw the leathery flesh of Kong's palm rupture, blood and viscera tearing free to join the increasing mass.

"Fall back, get clear." Armsmaster commanded.

Kong looked around as he stood, clarity and anger returning to his eyes. His gaze swept over the heroes, pausing on Lung before landing on the woman in the gas mask. Bakuda—Amsmaster remembered her name suddenly from her confusing manifesto a week earlier.

Bakuda was staring with obvious awe in every line of her body. Looking up at the growing singularity as it began to consume the giant cape. She stood legs spread and arms wide like a prophet seeing the face of god.

With a rumbling growl Kong's fist clenched causing the roaring air being sucked into the singularity to change tone, whistling sharply between his fingers.

Impossible. Amsmaster thought. The relative mass of the singularity is over 1000 tonnes.

Kong cocked his hand back slowly, dragging the singularity with it and causing the buildings closest to bow over and crumple inwards, their guts spilling out to join the whirlwind of trash and pebbles.

Bakuda seemed to realise that running away was a good idea.

It didn't matter.

Kong struck, diving forwards and dragging the singularity with the inevitability of a boulder rolling down a mountain, slow at first but shockingly fast as he built up momentum. At some point in his swing, the singularity detonated, causing a trumpeting boom which leveled the ground around the punch in a fifty foot radius. Whether Bakuda died from the punch or the explosion, Armsmaster could not say, even with the benefit of slow motion replay in his helmet.

Kong's shoulders heaved as he drew his mangled hand back, clean white bone and tendons were all that was left of the individual digits, while the palm and wrist were a mess of torn muscle and ligaments. Kong beat both his hands against his chest, roaring in pained triumph. Blood poured freely from the ravaged hand and splattered all across the street. Kong's shoulders heaved as he huffed steam from his mouth and nose, forming a cloud above him that lingered in the cold night are.

As they watched the torn muscle and skin on his hand began to regenerate, visibly reforming and knitting itself together as Kong turned back to face them. At the same time Armsmaster realised that the burns and cuts from Lung were also gone, though he couldn't say exactly when they had healed. He had been too busy running away to notice.

The Protectorate ENE didn't have anything as destructive as a singularity. Nothing even close. And even that had only just injured Kong.

Armsmaster locked eyes with the titanic cape… if it was a cape at all… For a moment, he thought could see something resembling intelligence under the animalistic fury of the titan's red eyes.

He held up his hand, placatingly as he began to speak. "You don't—

Kong snarled and his mouth began to glow. Armsmaster strangled the throttle of his bike just as the beam began to erupt.

Interlude 2.2: Gestation

Taylor Hebert - T + 5 minutes

Taylor was 'patrolling' when it all started.

Well 'patrolling' was a bit of a grandiose term. It was her first outing as a cape and in reality she had been aimlessly wandering the streets, hoping to stumble upon a crime in progress. She was hoping to start with something easy, stop a mugging or help someone in trouble. That sort of thing.

She'd been making her way through the industrial district, her swarm spread out in a wide net around her when suddenly all the bugs in range had immediately gone into a panic, freezing and due to something that terrified their simple brains. With her power she easily overrode their instincts, but she didn't understand what they were so afraid of. They hadn't heard or smelt anything, they had all just panicked simultaneously.

Then she heard it.

A roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the city, so deep and primal that it bypassed her ears and went straight to some deeply buried animal part of her brain. Every insect her range radius went catatonic in terror. She had to force their brains to ignore the fresh wave of panic and start crawling and flying again.

A few moments later the sirens started.

Endbringer, was her first thought.

This is way above my pay grade, Taylor thought, even as she ran towards the sound. I should turn around. Go home. Make sure Dad is ok.

Taylor was glad she'd started training her stamina, her lung burned from the exertion. She ran towards the roar, using her bugs to scout ahead as her feet pounded the pavement.

The roaring happened again and again, interspaced with bright flashes which must have been explosions. The sirens continued to wail, adding to the horrific intensity of her sprint.

Eventually the leading edge of her power reached the site of the disruption. What her bugs found beggared belief.

Ruined buildings and burned smoldering trenches as long as football stadiums. Entire streets and blocks were simply gone. She knew that this part of the city was mostly abandoned, but it didn't take long for her to find bodies amidst the rubble, broken and sticky with blood. The destruction stretched out, as far as her bugs could sense. Broken concrete, twisted steel and flames.

Then she saw it, illuminated by the hundreds of small fires. Something massive was moving through the docks. A hundred feet tall at least, built like a monkey but with the elongated snout of a wolf. Its eyes burned red in the darkness, and its body was covered with thick black fur, as dark as coal. She noticed that its form was irregularly shaped, quat and barrel chested compared to a person's. It mostly resembled a gorilla, except for the canine snout and long, prehensile tail.

The monster opened its mouth, and light gathered there like a miniature star. The beam that erupted was impossibly bright, a lance of blue-white energy that carved through the air curving above Taylor's head—

And kept going.

Taylor watched in horror as the beam arced over the industrial district, and struck a cluster of apartment buildings in the distance. The structures simply ceased to exist in a ball of blue light, reduced to glowing slag and superheated air.

People live there. Families. Children.

Her swarm compressed around her as cold fury settled in her chest. She gathered every insect within five blocks, calling them with desperate urgency. Wasps and bees, roaches and beetles, flies and gnats and spiders—anything that could fly or crawl responded to her summons. Overcoming the paralyzing fear of the demon monkey.

The swarm darkened the air as it moved, a living storm converging on the titan.

Hit the eyes, she decided. Blind it.

Despite how close the massive creature seemed, it was still a few minutes before she was close enough. Her swarm reached the monster just as it was charging up another beam attack. Millions of insects descended on its face, stinging and biting and crawling into every opening they could find.

The giant's head jerked back, roaring as its hands came up to swat at the bugs. The charging beam attack died as its concentration broke. More bugs swarmed in, pushing into soft membranes and open orifices, biting and stinging. Its flesh was absurdly strong, even Taylor's strongest bugs felt like they were chewing vulcanised rubber.

Then its fur began to glow.

It started as a faint shimmer, then it intensified, becoming a corona of blue-white flame that clung to its massive form before rising into the air above in wisps of dancing light. The fire didn't seem to burn it—if anything, it stood straighter, more alert and roared in triumph.

The insects that touched the flame simply died. They didn't catch fire or burn, they were extinguished. One moment they were there, the next they were gone, their life-force snuffed out so suddenly that Taylor gasped in shock.

She tried to pull the swarm back, but the titan was already moving. He shook himself like a wet dog, and the corona of flame expanded outward in a pulse that killed every insect within fifty feet of his body. Nearly three quarters of her swarm died in that instant.

The monster had already lost interest in the scattered remains of her swarm. His burning gaze swept across the battlefield, past the flying heroes darting around him like gnats, and fixed on something in the distance. He stomped away, enormous strides taking him out of Taylor's range in a matter of moments.

Suddenly a hand tapped her on the shoulder.

"Are you ok?"

She spun around to see a man dressed in a red, helmeted costume. The racing striped pattern made a distinctive 'V' on the costume's chest. Velocity.

Taylor struggled to speak, her head spinning. "I was—I had to—"

"You've gotta get out of here," Velocity said. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Taylor didn't know how to answer that, so she shook her head and began to gather a swarm to begin replacing the one she'd lost.

Velocity clenched his fists, taking a fighting stance as he noticed the growing swarm. "Look, I don't know who you are. But if you've got a grudge to settle, tonight's not the night. They've declared Kong an S-class threat, so if you attack anybody, hero or villain you'll get a kill order. No exceptions." He sounded like he was forcing himself to sound intimidating.

Taylor blinked, startled by the implication. "I'm not—I'm a hero! I was trying to help!"

Velocity's eyes flicked over her dark costume, taking in the gray and black design with yellow lenses. "Could've fooled me with that costume…" he took a deep breath, "Ok fine. What's your power, something to do with bugs I'm guessing?"

"I can control them."

"How many?"

"All of them, for about three or four blocks…"

"What's that in feet?"

"800 feet, but sometimes it's more. Right now it's a bit more."

"Ok… that might be useful. Right now we're just trying to keep him away from the city and lead him down the peninsula out towards the ocean."

"Why not kill him?" She barked angrily.

"We've tried, it just pissed him off." Velicity said bluntly. "Right now we're waiting for reinforcements, but it's going to take time. So all we can do is stall. Are you sure you want to get involved? If shit hits the fan there's no safety net."

"Yes," Taylor said firmly, smothering her anger. "I want to help."

Velocity nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Alright then. There's a couple of Protectorate capes gathering at a FoB, just follow Harbor Avenue till you hit the railroad then follow it north up to the hill with the trees on it. I'll let them know you're coming. You got that?"

"Follow Harbor to the railroad, then north to Park hill."

"Roger that. Good luck out there."

Before she could respond, he was gone in a streak of red.

—

A quarter of an hour later Taylor found herself jogging up a small hill overlooking the harbor. The hill was rocky and windswept, dotted with loblolly pines. She remembered coming here a few times with her dad. The dockworkers union used to host barbecues and Fourth of July parties up there and she had vague memories of digging in the dirt and playing with other young kids.

As she ascended she could see the full scope of the battle unfolding below. Kong stood among the ruins of the docks, his massive form silhouetted against the flames of burning warehouses. Dauntless darted around him midair like a wasp harassing a bear.

Her bugs found four figures in unusual clothing standing at the lookout. She jogged over to them and soon found herself standing awkwardly before the heroes. As she identified them she realised why they were waiting here. These were clearly the ones who couldn't fly, didn't have a ranged attack or weren't fast enough to engage Kong directly—the support team, relegated to watching and waiting for an opening.

Triumph stood closest to the edge of the hill, his costume was torn with dark stains that could only be blood seeping through the fabric. One arm hung much lower than the other, and there was a gash across his forehead that someone had hastily bandaged with what looked like torn material from his own cape.

Aegis looked even worse, if that was possible. His red and silver costume was shredded, revealing pale skin mottled with bruises. Taylor could see what had to be broken ribs poking against the fabric of his suit, creating unnatural ridges across his chest. But he stood straight and alert, saying something quietly to Triumph.

Clockblocker was pacing back and forth, his white, clock-themed costume surprisingly clean compared to the others. He kept glancing between Kong and his teammates, hands opening and closing with nervous energy.

In the shadows near the corner of the lookout stood Browbeat, silent and motionless. The hulking Ward was almost inhumanly muscular. Towering a foot taller than the already tall Triumph. He hadn't moved since she'd arrived, just stood there staring down at Kong with an intensity that was somehow unsettling. If it wasn't for the faint movement of his chest she could feel via the bugs landed on him, she would have mistaken him for a statue. His skintight costume was deep navy blue and covered with a distracting horizontal diamond pattern.

"Nice to meet'cha," Triumph said, his voice slightly hoarse, "I'm Triumph. Velocity said you're a bug controller. That's... useful for reconnaissance… I guess?"

Taylor nodded, then realized he was waiting for more. "I can control insects in about a four-block radius. A little more right now."

"And your name?" Triumph asked.

Taylor opened her mouth, then closed it. She hadn't thought this far ahead. She couldn't give her real name, but she hadn't picked a cape name either. "I'm... I dont—I don't really have a—"

"Scoutfly," Clockblocker interrupted, not missing a beat. "Obvious choice, really. Bugs, scouting, flies looking at things." He shot her a quick look of confirmation.

"Right," Taylor said gratefully. "Scoutfly."

"Names are my specialty," said the young hero, grinning at her. Taylor realised he was making fun of her somehow, but couldn't piece it together.