Author Notes:
Okay, we're really back this time. I have learned the ancient art of stockpiling chapters, so there will be no more huge waits between things. Next post is Saturday, where we'll check in with what Alexandria has been up to.
I've also started an original story on RoyalRoadL which you can find here The Law of Averages | Royal Road
It's about an average guy who is dropped into a world where superpowers are commercialized and commonplace, and deals with his attempts to acclimate to this new world. I would cross-post it on Spacebattles but frankly the original content section of this site seems a little bit dead. Let me know if you disagree, or if you'd like me to post it here as well.
As an aside, I am committed to finishing every story that I start. All three of my stories will have endings eventually, though some will obviously take longer than others.
As always, comments and criticisms are welcome.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Last edited: Aug 22, 2018
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Aug 22, 2018
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McSwazey
McSwazey
Aug 25, 2018
#3,218
Rebecca stood in front of a transparent window, gazing down at humanity's best hope against armageddon. One of Hive-mind's bodies lay at the bottom of a pit, chained to the wall by its wrists, ankles, waist, and neck. The twisted creature writhed against its bonds, screaming angry threats at the dark, empty space it inhabited. Bits of flesh peeled away from it and detached, wriggling away from the main body like worms, only to be incinerated by a criss-crossing grid of electricified wires.
The Number Man stood behind Rebecca, eating an apple. Each bite he took seemed to make the maximum amount of crunch, something that she knew he did to annoy her. She continued her vigil, despite this irritation, her face stoic and unchanging as the not-particularly-reformed villain slurped at his fingers and smacked his lips. Finally he finished his meal, a careless flick of his arm sending the apple core rebounding into a trashcan two rooms and forty feet away.
A moment passed as he joined Alexandria at the window. Rebecca watched him eye Hive-mind with unconcealed distaste. His gaze flicked to her for an instant, and the corner of his mouth curled up a fraction. He reached into his coat, withdrawing some sort of candy wrapped in cellophane.
Rebecca's hands slowly clenched into a fist as he unfolded it, the crinkling markedly louder in the small observatory, than even the test subject's screeching invective. He popped it into his mouth, letting out a low moan as it settled against his cheek. The crumpled wrapper went into his pocket, where every shift of his body caused it to rustle against itself.
Rebecca fought against the urge to grind her teeth.
Number Man's eyes roamed over Hive-mind's containment area. Rebecca knew his power was filling in the gaps, telling him how best to dismantle the entire thing with a pencil and some toenail clippings. It was why he was useful, why she tolerated his presence. He would find the flaws that Accord might have missed. He would guarantee that her plan was workable. If only he wasn't such a tremendous ass about it.
Number Man hummed to himself briefly, then started to chew. Crunch crunch crunch filled the room. Rebecca's already frayed patience snapped.
"Are you done?" she demanded frigidly.
He gave her a beatific smile. "Of course I am. It is quite the setup, I must admit."
"Accord does excellent work," Rebecca stated flatly.
"Yes, his designs are peerless, when he puts that ordered mind of his to work," Number Man agreed. "Did he pick the construction crew as well?"
"He provided a list," Rebecca replied.
"And you introduced them to the Slug afterwards?"
"Of course," she confirmed.
Number Man rubbed his chin. "So that avenue of escape is closed. No one knows that she,"—he indicated Hive-mind's body—"is here?"
"None outside of Cauldron." Alexandria crossed her arms. "Are you going somewhere with this?"
"Yes." Number Man turned away from the window and began pacing the small room. "Accord's designs assume perfection that no construction crew could realistically achieve. They came awfully close, though. There are no structural weaknesses that Hive-mind could exploit from within the pit."
Rebecca shifted her body language minutely, to indicate polite interest. She never relaxed her control around this man. She would always remember what he had been.
Number Man glanced at her, a small frown on his lips. "What about the PRT?"
"They believe that every clone is still on ice. Obviously there is a body in place, for anyone who bothers to check," Rebecca told him.
Number Man nodded at her words, but continued to pace. "No PRT involvement, no workers, Accord obviously knows no details... very good Rebecca."
He finally came to a stop facing her. A broad smile graced his lips. "Your plan is insane, but it is by far the best executed insanity that I have ever witnessed."
A pause in the conversation occurred as Rebecca fought against the urge to smear him across the ceiling.
Number Man, as if reading her thoughts, added, "Of course, I can't account for what might happen when you start feeding that monster down there. Who knows what sort of abilities she might manifest."
Rebecca allowed an iota of anger to appear in her tone. "My plan has flaws, I admit. That is why I've brought you in."
The talking calculator snorted. "You've brought me in because Doctor Mother will not sacrifice Contessa's time for this foolishness."
"The Doctor's time is occupied with studying Eidolon's little protégé, and Contessa has her own duties to attend to. They know that I can handle this on my own," Rebecca replied coldly.
"Well, not on your own." Number Man smiled. "Else I wouldn't be here, surely?"
"Correct." Rebecca spat the word like a curse.
The Number Man nodded to himself. "What contingencies do you have in place for the Simurgh?"
Rebecca, caught off-guard, had to stop herself from blinking. "...None, save for anonymity. I don't know how I would even begin to defend against her. Anything that I put in place would be subverted before she ever arrived. You know this."
"Anonymity did not help in Madison," Number Man pointed out.
"Madison was a fluke," she stated firmly.
He gave her an amused look. "How can you possibly say that?"
"Because if the Simurgh is aware of all of our operations, then we have already lost. I am not willing to entertain that line of thinking."
He looked surprised by her reasoning, but conceded after a moment. She quietly counted the gesture as a victory.
He pulled a pencil free from his front pocket and twirled it through his fingers. Long moments passed as the infuriating man hummed to himself. His gaze was somehow both vacant and calculating, and Rebecca fought against the urge to speak up.
She broke before he did. "Anything else to add?"
He snapped out of his daze, sighing. "I fear that you are trying to tame a force of nature here, Rebecca. Nothing we've seen of Hive-mind indicates a willingness, or even an ability to cooperate outside of its collective."
"If I fail, then I fail. What I will not do, is fail to try," she stated evenly, keeping that fervor, that desperate hope, concealed inside her.
"Yes, I can see that," he remarked. "Why are you so desperate to attempt this? You've seen the data on Catalyst. If we can develop her—"
"Any power that Catalyst has, is a power that Scion chose to release!" Rebecca interrupted, fury pouring into her tone. "She. Will. Not. Save us. Our only hope must come from an agent of the fallen entity."
She jabbed a finger at the pit. "Hive-mind's powers come from that source. They were not released by Scion. She can be our trump card in a way that Catalyst can never be! I refuse to believe that a natural trigger has the ability to kill its ultimate progenitor. We need an army to fight him, but an army consisting only of his agents cannot kill him. We know this. Everything that we have done, every horror that we have committed is because of this one fact! This is and has always been our Path to Victory!" The words tumbled out in a desperate snarl, reverberating in the silence, as Rebecca fought to regain control.
Number Man's face was blank. "You cannot control her."
"Not yet, but with time..." Rebecca felt drained, exhausted. She was so very tired.
But she was no stranger to the feeling. She met Number Man's eyes, composed once more. "Will you help me?"
Number Man matched her gaze. She couldn't read him. Not at all. Not a hint of his thoughts slipped onto his face. Finally, he shook his head.
"No."
"Why not!?" Rebecca demanded. "I have taken precautions, like you advised. I have, to the best of my ability, ensured that nothing can go wrong. You accepted this idea before!"
He spread his arms helplessly. "Recent events have caused me to change my mind. I no longer believe that the risk is worth it, or even necessary."
Rebecca almost reeled back incredulously. "Recent events? Did Jack's death weaken your stomach? Do you think that you can flinch away from what must be done, now that the last tie to your past is dead? Or have you simply enrolled yourself in the school of blind optimism!?"
"Neither my stomach nor my resolve has weakened. I've simply been down this path before and have learned my lesson." His voice was wistful and nostalgic.
He smiled at Rebecca's confusion. "But I can see that you don't wish to be convinced, so I won't waste my breath. I'll leave you with some advice, instead. Once you realize the futility of this, do not hesitate. Do not lament time wasted. Do not wish for what might have been. Destroy the creature, and move on."
"That advice is unnecessary. With your help or not, I will succeed," Rebecca stated coldly. "Any monster can be tamed, with time."
Number Man shook his head and leaned towards her. He spoke quietly, as if imparting some great secret. "You don't tame monsters, my dear Alexandria, you kill them."
He turned to leave.
Anger flared in Rebecca. As Number Man opened the door she remarked, "We tamed you well enough."
The Number Man froze, halfway out of the room, his foot hovering in the air. With great deliberation, he lowered it to the ground. He turned to face Rebecca, hints of Harbinger peeking past his polite facade. His posture cast dark shadows over his face, obscuring his eyes. He considered her for a moment.
"I think that Jacob would be pleased to know that his ideology lives on." Each word was precise, vicious, perfectly calculated. He could be nothing else.
He exited the room, leaving Rebecca to her thoughts. She considered his words, turned them around in her head, examined them from every angle. She couldn't not. Her powers made it impossible to overlook the comparison being made.
Still, she waited. She stood in place for ten full minutes, until she was sure that the Number Man was long gone.
Then she turned the room into rubble.
All the sacrifices that she had made, all the terrible choices, they would mean something. In the face of extinction, she could not afford to be weak. Every difficult decision that she had ever made had led her here. This was the only path, the only way that she could see to justify herself.
He was wrong. He had to be wrong.
And if he was right, it didn't matter.
She could only move forward.
Author Notes:
Hey look, it's a chapter with Alexandria!
I'm aware that the Number Man has been named in Ward, but I felt that Rebecca, my Rebecca at least, would not see him as 'Kurt' in her mind.
Next week we'll check in with Taylor and Lisa.
As always, comments and criticisms are welcome.
Hope you enjoyed it!
Last edited: Aug 25, 2018
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McSwazey
McSwazey
Sep 1, 2018
#3,351
It was fascinating to watch Amy sculpt living creatures. Taylor focused on a dragonfly that was currently growing a pair of spinnerets at the end of its tail. She couldn't quite feel the muscles growing into place, her power wasn't that precise, but she gained a good idea of the little critter's new capabilities.
This knowledge grew by the second, as Amy created new muscles and instincts for the dragonfly to access. The stalwart bug was designed as a 'carrier' for her spiders. Its spinnerets would weave a net of silk for other bugs to hitch a ride on, and powerful wing muscles allowed for long flights without risk of permanent damage.
Amy did good work. Too good, really. Both Taylor and Lisa had suggested that she include some sort of inefficiency in her creations, both as a sensible precaution and as a way to ensure a reliable income. Amy had agreed in principle, but had struggled with the actual implementation. Once the girl got to designing, she just couldn't seem to help herself. Her creations were hardy and strong, and more than worth every penny.
"I think that's enough for a baseline," Taylor told the bio-kinetic in front of her. The pair sat inside Jaya's apartment, on her comfiest couch, with a pile of bugs spread across the coffee table. Lisa lazed in Jaya's recliner, caught somewhere between dozing and browsing the internet. They were all out of costume, having seen the futility of hiding their civilian identities while working out of Jaya's apartment. Lisa lived literally next door, after all.
Amy's focus didn't waver a notch. She continued to squint at the dragonfly in her hand, as it morphed further and further away from its roots. Another pair of wings sprouted from its torso, going from nascent bud to full-fledged in seconds. Taylor gained the impression that its flight speed had somehow doubled.
"Okay that's nice and all, but you should probably stop now, Amy," Taylor insisted again, reaching out to poke the healer's shoulder. Amy was dressed casually, wearing baggy sweatpants and a loose jacket. Her hair was unkempt, hanging in careless disarray around her shoulders. Despite her messy appearance, her eyes were alert, focused, and filled with interest.
Also, completely incognizant of her surroundings. Taylor's pokes were ignored as easily as her voice. A mental twitch and her new 'carrier' zoomed off Amy's hand and latched onto her face. The girl yelped at the sudden motion, flinching backwards and breaking her focus. The carrier zipped off towards the ceiling, out of reach of Amy's flailing limbs. Taylor giggled as the healer graced her with an affronted look.
"That is not funny," she muttered, now prone on the couch. The girl made a half-hearted attempt to sit up but eventually surrendered to the softness.
"It's a little funny," Taylor disagreed, not bothering to hide her amusement. Lisa contributed a few light chuckles to the conversation, but couldn't be bothered to open her eyes.
"I can make it better, still," Amy protested, reaching weakly up towards the carrier. The thing hung upside down on the ceiling, well out of reach.
Taylor wiggled its tail in Amy's direction with a laugh. "It doesn't need to be better. Bugs are supposed to be cheap and disposable. They don't have to be perfect."
"But I wanna!" Amy's eyes seemed to finally refocus. "Er, I mean, I need the money! The better I make 'em, the better you guys pay me, right?"
"You can't just keep adding features and expect us to pay for them," Taylor replied with amusement. "And what happened to cautious, low-key Amy? You weren't nearly this gung-ho at first."
"Momma's got bills to pay," Amy stated, her voice gaining a bit of enthusiasm. "I'm thinking about getting a car."
"Cars are good," Lisa chimed in from her spot on the recliner. "Do you have a license yet?"
"I've had my learner's permit for long enough," Amy said with growing cheer. "Ooh! I wonder if I can get a permit for emergency lights!"
"Write the Mayor about it. I'll lend you our stationary," Lisa cackled.
"Why are you getting a car, Amy?" Taylor inquired curiously. She had never seen the need, herself. Buses worked just fine, and she kept a costume both at home and in Lisa's apartment.
Not at Jaya's, though. Who knows what that girl would do to it.
"It just seems like the thing to do," Amy replied with a shrug.
Despite her calm reply, a hint of melancholy entered her voice. "I wasn't allowed to drive much, before. Too unnecessary, to expensive, too many things that could go wrong. I didn't need a car when my sister could fly me wherever I needed to go."
"You've got little-to-no driving experience, so your solution is to buy a car?" Lisa questioned incredulously.
Amy scooped up a handful of nearby bugs and lobbed them in Lisa's direction. The blonde yelped and tumbled out of her seat as Taylor sent the insects scurrying across her shirt.
"Rude!" Lisa bellowed from a heap on the floor.
"You should probably talk to the hospital, too," Taylor mentioned, ignoring her friend's plight. "I bet they'd give you a reserved spot. Parking can be a bitch, I hear."
Amy perked up. "Yeah, that should work. It'll make my shifts more tolerable at least. Lately I've had to plan around the bus."
"I still think you should be charging for healing," Lisa said, finally finding her feet.
Amy shifted her head, her frown barely visible from Taylor's angle. "No. It doesn't cost me anything to heal people. I won't charge them."
"Costs you time," Lisa pointed out.
"I've got time to spare," Amy replied acerbically. "It's not like I've got anything else going on. Just the hospital and this." She gestured towards the pile of modified bugs.
"You could try having more fun," Taylor offered hopefully.
"I already eat out with you a couple times a week. What else is there to do?" Amy muttered.
"Oh you sweet summer child," Lisa said mischievously. "You have no idea the kind of high jinks three bored super-powered teenagers can get up to when we put our minds to it!"
Amy grimaced. "Not interested. I can't afford any bad press. I got enough from... that clone thing." Her voice trailed off towards the end, her expression turning somber.
Taylor watched her with concern. "How are your sessions going?"
Amy didn't like the word therapy. Maybe it made her feel weak, or pathetic, or somehow less, Taylor wasn't sure. She didn't like the word, so sessions it was.
"Doctor Yamada is very kind," Amy replied carefully. "They've— Well, they are helpful."
Her frown lightened a shade, as she added quietly, "Thanks for telling me to go."
Taylor shrugged cheerfully. She could've easily been in just as dark a place as Amy, had events gone just slightly differently. There was no shame in getting help from friends nor from professionals.
"I don't think your reputation is as bad as you're making it out to be," Lisa interjected, clearly brushing past the uncomfortable subject.
"That's only because Catalyst is a lunatic, and you two aren't much better," Amy said, rolling her eyes.
She paused to gather her thoughts, then continued grimly on. "Between the dead Endbringer, the Teeth, and the Slaughterhouse Nine, news cycles have been a little full. That doesn't mean people have forgotten that I'm not just a healer, nor what those fucking clones did while wearing my face."
"It's still in the back of their minds, sure," Lisa acknowledged, "but another month or so and it'll be forgotten. Public perception has a short memory."
"Well, then I'll just have to stay low for another month," Amy decided.
"Ugh, caution," Lisa scoffed.
"We don't all have a demi-god ready and willing to go to bat for us, Fidelis." Amy's voice wasn't bitter, so much as longing.
"Jaya likes you," Taylor insisted. "She wouldn't have tried to recruit you otherwise."
Amy's brow furrowed. "I thought that was your idea?"
"Well... yeah, it was," Taylor admitted. "Jaya pushed me to spend time with you, though! She wouldn't have done that if she wasn't worried about you."
Lisa made a strangled noise, somewhere between a snort and a cough.
"I guess," Amy said slowly. "She just acts a little odd."
"You get used to it. I thought she was crazy too, at first," Taylor replied happily.
"Still do," Lisa croaked, raising her hand. Her shoulders shook with repressed mirth.
"Jaya comes on strong, but she means well," Taylor said seriously. "She's always trying to help people. She even recommended that fancy restaurant we ate at last weekend!"
Lisa fell back to the ground, howling with laughter. Taylor stoically ignored her.
Amy sighed and snuggled back into the couch. "Fine, maybe she likes me. Whatever. What's next?"
"No more bugs for today," Taylor told her sternly.
"Oh, oh!" Lisa gasped weakly from her spot on the carpet. "I've got something you can look at!"
Amy frowned. "I can't tell if you're trying to make a dirty joke or not."
"Then I'm doing my job," Lisa replied snootily. "But this is something real. Jaya somehow got a sample of Newter's bodily fluids. She wanted you to take a look at 'em, see if you could synthesize more."
"Newter?" Taylor inquired, as Amy bounced up off the couch.
"Mercenary, his fluids are massively powerful tranquilizers," Amy blurted out with excitement.
She made grabbing motions with her hands at Lisa. "Gimme gimme!"
"They're somewhere in Jaya's closet of crap," Lisa replied languidly, pointing a dainty finger towards Jaya's bedroom. "I try not to go in there. The mess hurts me."
Amy stormed into the bedroom, completely disregarding Lisa's words. The sound of crunching plastic and shattered glass reached their ears.
"What the hell is wrong with this girl!" Amy shouted from across the apartment. "This is— Oh god! She can clean things with her mind! Why wouldn't she just, ewww."
Lisa smiled merrily. Taylor sighed to herself, and sent a task force of roaches towards the room, dragging a dustpan and brush.
More crashing, more cursing. Something chimed like a bell.
"I think I see the closet," Amy called weakly. "I just have to— YEAAAAGH!!"
The scream startled Taylor, and Lisa even bothered to sit up. Neither of them moved, however. They weren't brave enough to venture into death trap that was Jaya's living space.
Amy shuffled out of the bedroom, pale as a ghost. She glanced around at the two girls, then back from where she came.
"Uh, Taylor?" Amy murmured dazedly.
"You okay Amy?" Taylor asked. She wasn't entirely sure what sort of junk Jaya kept in her room, but she was certain that it was traumatizing.
"No. No I am not okay," Amy replied, her voice slowly regaining life.
She took a deep breath, settling her hands on her waist.
"Why is the Siberian trussed up inside Catalyst's closet!?" Amy demanded furiously.
Taylor blinked. "So that's where she put it."
"What."
"That's not the Siberian," Lisa explained, relaxing back onto the floor.
"It looks an awful lot like her," Amy insisted.
"The Siberian was a projection," Taylor picked up the conversation. "Jaya stole it."
"What!?"
"She does things like that," Taylor admitted awkwardly.
Lisa giggled.
Amy stared.
Taylor snorted.
Amy stared more.
Lisa escalated into laughter.
Taylor joined her.
Amy couldn't help but follow.
It was a good day.
Author Notes:
Lisa and Taylor have been inoculated to the madness. Amy's gettin' there slowly.
I hope my American readers are having a fun long weekend. I know I am.
As always, comments and criticisms are welcome.
Hope you enjoyed it!
Last edited: Sep 1, 2018
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Threadmarks Chapter 56
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McSwazey
Sep 14, 2018 Awarded ×1
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David floated high above the city of Omaha, surveying its slow recovery process by the light of the evening sun. The city had seen better days for certain. Vast furrows of earth had been gouged out by Crawler during his rampage, and a dozen city blocks remained blackened and burnt from Burnscar's festivities. Reconstruction was slow but steady. Roads were flattened and repaved, buildings were inspected and refurbished, lives were rebuilt as they always were in the aftermath of tragedy.
Unfortunately, there was little David could do to aid in these efforts. He wielded immense power, true, but he did not command it. He had both hated and loved that aspect of his power over the years. It responded to his need, bringing him choices that he may not have thought of himself, but the powers rarely lingered for long. They shifted about near constantly, drifting beyond his reach unless he exerted a tremendous amount of effort to hold them.
He'd gotten better at it as the time passed, but in his youth he had never seen the need to help with more menial matters. In those first few years, when he stood at the height of his power, David might have been able to create miracles for society. Unfortunately, he had been rather consumed by the desire to battle the more physical threats of the world. By the time it had occurred to him to build with his power, it had lost the precision needed for such endeavors. David was still strong, none could contest that, but he was no longer precise. Not, at least, for the duration needed to accomplish anything of value. He had lost too much of what he had been, even with Doctor Mother's injections. What strength remained had been deemed too important to waste on anything other than S-class threats.
It was ironic, David often mused, that his replacement had only arrived after he had lost the ability to do good elsewhere. He could fight. It was what he knew, it was what he was good at, it was all that he was good for. That might have been a outrageously depressing thought, had circumstances been slightly different. Fortunately, he could train Catalyst to see what he had ignored, and that made all the difference.
But until such time, he would do his duty and act like the monstrously intimidating threat that he was. The city needed a guardian while it was being rebuilt. Armsmaster would have been ideal, as it would firmly cement his new status and popularity, but the younger hero was occupied with rebuilding his Protectorate. He did not have the time nor the mobility to handle the multitude of new threats born from the ashes of the Nine's attack.
David was not especially thrilled to act like a city-sized flyswatter. And, make no mistake, that is what he was. Fresh triggers were dangerous to the police and PRT. Unknown powers and grievous trauma made for a volatile combination, one that non-powered men and women were unable to effectively deal with. Even more complicated was the fact that many of the troublemakers that would and had popped up over the past week were simply children enamored by their new powers. David felt for them, truly. It was impossibly difficult for a teenager, or even an adult, to moderate themselves in the beginning. It was human nature to experiment, and damaged people rarely made smart decisions.
Still, tasteless as his duty was, he would perform it. It wouldn't do to set a bad example now, not when the eyes of the country and a cynical teenage girl were upon him at all times. So he floated, high above the city, and waited. Eventually the two sensory powers that he was holding would pick up on hostile parahuman activity, then he would swoop in and save the day, while simultaneously terrifying any assailants. He had that effect on people, somehow.
The point was, he was doing his job and doing it well. His senses were tuned and ready; he could not be surprised. So, of course, Catalyst surprised him.
"Whatcha doin'?" the girl's cheery voice sounded from directly behind his right ear.
He flinched in the way a cat might when confronted by a pail of water. The instinctual reaction jerked him into a sort of pirouetting front flip that might have been impressive on flat ground but simply looked ridiculous in the air. He righted himself in moments, spinning about to glare at his cackling student.
"Sneaking up on someone like me is very dangerous," he remarked, once his heart-rate had slowed.
She shrugged. "Also funny."
David sighed lightly. "Why are you here, Catalyst?"
"I asked first!" she replied with an outrageous pout. Her face contorted into a convincing impression of guileless innocence that was utterly spoiled by every other fact about her.
David, knowing that he would never win this fight, acquiesced. "I am keeping an eye on the city for the next week."
Catalyst raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Does Armsy know you're here?"
"Of course," David replied with confusion. "He was the one who put in a request for assistance."
Catalyst blinked uncertainly. "That really doesn't sound like him."
Ah yes, David could understand her confusion. Colin Wallis was not a man who asked for help lightly or often. Handling the growing crime problem within the city was a full time job that would grant a huge amount of public visibility. David had fully expected the newly redeemed hero to soak up as much of the limelight as possible, despite the tremendous time investment. The stoic, career-driven man that David had known would have requested a PRT supervisor for the Wards; a babysitter of sorts, who could take the burden of training off of Armsmaster's shoulders. But people changed with time and experience. David was no stranger to this.
"Perhaps," he mused, "he has discovered the joys of teaching."
Catalyst looked unconvinced.
"He really does know that I'm here," David insisted, feeling oddly defensive.
She shrugged. "I'm here to visit him anyways. I'll get the story from the horse's mouth, I guess."
Now that was interesting. What did Armsmaster have to offer her? He was talented, certainly, and possessed a broad specialty, but there was little that he could actually do for the younger girl. The pair had hardly spoken, so far as he knew, though every interaction had been in times of great peril.
Oh no.
"A crush?" David postulated hesitantly. He hoped not. He was long past hormones, and had zero experience besides. There was little he could advise on such matters of the heart.
Thankfully, Catalyst's face twisted into an expression of disgust. "Oh, gag! Dude is like twice my age! Besides, he's taken."
"Really?" David couldn't help but ask. There were few people in the world willing to gossip with Eidolon. He'd take what he could get.
She looked at him like he was an idiot. "Dragon."
"Ah," David replied simply. That there was a hornet's nest he wasn't willing to explore.
They both paused briefly as something tugged at David's senses, pulling his eyes downwards towards the city. Catalyst floated beside him, following his gaze. Far beneath him, two parahumans threatened the cashier of a small electronics store.
David sighed at the sloppy robbery. He glanced to Catalyst.
"Duty calls," he announced. "Care to help take them in?"
Catalyst cocked her head, still staring down at the disturbance. She smiled, all teeth.
"Sure."
"Non-lethal," David ordered immediately. He didn't think it was necessary, but it couldn't hurt to say. It was all too easy to kill, especially at Catalyst's level of power.
She rolled her eyes and flashed him a thumbs up, then dropped out of the sky like a stone. David followed her with exasperation, his flight power nullifying wind resistance to keep up with Catalyst's own fall. They landed silently, across the street from the store.
Bailey's, the small sign said. The building had seen better days. It was missing most of its glass, and the lights flickered uncertainly. The road leading to it was cracked and filled with loose rubble, and most of the shelves were empty. On the other hand, these circumstances were fairly standard for the city at the moment.
Inside, David could see two unfamiliar capes, brandishing weapons at the young cashier as he filled a bag with money and electronics. The first was male, dressed in a tweed three-piece suit with a dark red tie. His face was concealed by a large domino mask that fell just past his nose, and on his head sat a black bowler hat. He would have looked somewhat professional, had any part of his outfit actually been fitted to him. As it was, everything looked about half a size too large, and it showed in every movement. He held a shiny silver pistol loosely in his hand. It was a comically large firearm, the kind best used as a practical joke against people who had never fired a gun before. A weapon was a weapon, however, and it needed to be dealt with.
His partner was a girl who looked like she had just walked out of a military surplus store after stealing every item of clothing within. Thick-layered pants, steel-toed boots, a long-sleeved shirt beneath a Kevlar vest beneath a heavy jacket, and a paintball mask to top the whole ensemble; David was surprised that she hadn't keeled over from heat exhaustion. She held a riot shotgun on the cashier with worrying familiarity. There was very little sway in her stance, and not an ounce of mercy in her posture.
David's face hardened but he hesitated. After a moment of indecision, he turned to Catalyst.
"What do you make of the situation?" he asked calmly, as a new power slotted itself into place. An invisible plane of force sprung up in front of the cashier, walling him off from danger. The two capes continued to threaten, but the cashier's face rapidly twisted into confusion as the sound of their voices dulled from the obstacle.
"Quickly now," he insisted.
Catalyst glanced at him, then back to the store. After a moment she replied, "You can drop the field. I jammed the guns."
Well that's convenient. He did so, noting the look of bewilderment on the cashier's face as the sound fluctuated once more.
"Well done," David acknowledged with a nod. With the immediate threat neutralized, he could afford to actually discuss the situation with Catalyst. He felt slightly guilty for the brief fear that the cashier must feel, but knew that it would be fleeting. The man's safety was all but guaranteed.
Although...
David drifted downwards, falling just into the sight line of the young worker, and hovering there. Catalyst followed him with bemusement, but snorted when she realized his plan. The cashier's eyes glanced past David as he bagged the electronics, and the man stiffened. Another quick glance, and David positioned a finger over his lips, making the universal gesture of silence. Tension eased out of the worker, and he piled the store's product into the bag with renewed fervor.
David smiled, and quietly spoke, "In hostage situations with parahumans, it is sometimes better to let things play out, especially when dealing with unknowns. If there is no immediate threat, and you cannot guarantee a civilian's safety in a fight, then take the fight elsewhere."
He floated back up, out of sight and above the store. Catalyst followed like a specter, an amused smile playing on her lips.
"I could've just dragged them out here, ya'know," she remarked.
"As could I, as could many. The point is to know what you should do in order to maximize success, not what you can do because of your ludicrous capabilities. You often default to a straightforward approach. You need to think." David was in full mentor mode, stern voice and all.
"So, again, what do you make of them? Experienced or green? Legitimately dangerous or posturing? What are their goals, their means, their powers?" The girl had nearly unparalleled sensory abilities, if only she bothered using them.
"I think they're green as grass," Catalyst said with a smirk. "That boy was a techno-path. He was interfacing with the electronics inside, but keeping it passive. He also disabled the outer cameras instead of using them as a sentry. He would've seen your little show, if he had bothered to look. Sloppy as hell, even if his power is pretty neat."
David nodded at her assessment. He had noticed the disabled camera outside himself, but had chalked it up to a lack of power, rather than a power. Electricity was hard to come by, recently.
"And the woman?" he inquired. "She was awful steady for a fresh trigger."
"Her power," Catalyst replied. "Basic brick package. Her muscles are way denser than they should be, and she's got more control of them than what's natural, but that's all there is. Her heart is pounding right out of her little head. Probably wears all that padding to disguise her brute rating, too. It'd be clever if it wasn't, like, a hundred pounds of thick clothing."
Catalyst's nose wrinkled. "I can't really smell her, but she must reek. Sweatin' like a pig under there."
Eidolon nodded. "I agree with your assessment. Options?"
She blew out an irritated breath. "They have literally no way of fighting back against us."
"Yes," David acknowledged. "But you can still consider the safest way to bring them down."
Catalyst considered his point for a moment, then grinned. "I've got just the thing."
She explained her plan, much to his amusement, and they settled in to wait. Catalyst monitored the pair, while David slotted in a danger sensing power in place of his flight. He stood ready to intercede should things somehow go wrong.
His preparation brought him no joy. Something truly catastrophic would have to happen for Catalyst to require his help capturing this pair of small-time villains. He pondered that thought for a few horrible minutes, now certain that he had jinxed the whole damn city.
Fortunately, the pair left the building unimpeded. Nothing exploded, nobody died, and the Simurgh did not drop out of the sky on top of them. Catalyst watched them exit with narrowed eyes, and the moment they stepped into the street she struck.
With a simple snatching movement, the two were dragged into the sky, screaming. Their guns and bag of pilfered goods were torn from their grip and tossed back inside the store, while the villains spun violently upward. Their clothes tightened and lengthened around them, shifting with Catalyst's will. Their masks adhered to their faces and grew past their eyes and ears, blocking their senses. Shirt sleeves slithered around hands and tied themselves taught, pant legs morphed together, forming into a single rigid sleeve. The pair were bundled together, at the mercy of their own clothing.
Another flick of Catalyst's hand and the two were ripped towards the roof, landing in heaps next to David, completely helpless and thoroughly discombobulated. Catalyst laughed freely at the chaos, her eyes glittering in the fading light.
David shook his head, fighting against a smile himself. If it looked stupid, but it worked, then it wasn't stupid.