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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandoms:
Parahumans Series - WildbowVampire: The Masquerade
Characters:
Taylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverLasombra Antediluvian (Vampire: The Masquerade)
Additional Tags:
Canon-Typical ViolenceAlt-Power Taylor HebertCompetent Parahuman Response Team | PRT
Language:
English
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Published:2025-06-22Updated:2026-02-11Words:157,182Chapters:25/?Comments:650Kudos:1,403Bookmarks:540Hits:75,925
Abyssal Escalation
Zahariel_Scholar
Chapter 18: Contact
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Frank 'Sticky Fingers' Russo had never been a member of any of the gangs in Brockton Bay. Well, technically he'd spent a few weeks working for Uber and Leet as hired muscle, but the two villains had never been considered an actual gang, and for good reasons.
No, Frank considered himself an independent entrepreneur. Which was to say, he was a thief, a conman, a smuggler, and a professional burglar, who despite having been in the business for over a decade and been interrogated by the police more times than he cared to remember, had yet to spend any time in an actual jail (as opposed to the police station's cells, where he'd spent more than a few nights). That last one was less impressive than it sounded, given the state of corruption that had prevailed within the BBPD until very recently – it had just been a question of knowing which officers to bribe with the location of his stash in exchange for 'mishandling' the evidence.
Now, however, that time was over. With the fall of the ABB and E88, the BBPD was being purged of informants and corruption. Add to that the death of the Simurgh, which was certain to bring more capes to Brockton Bay, and it was a bad time to be a small-time criminal in the city. Frank had been considering his options since waking up from his own celebration bender, which was how he'd ended up where he currently was, breaking into a pawnshop in the middle of the night.
It had been three days since Lasombra had killed the Simurgh. Three days, and more importantly, three nights without a single appearance of the Endkiller in Brockton Bay. Unlike some people, Frank didn't think Lasombra was dead, but clearly fighting the Hopekiller had exhausted him. Presumably that wouldn't last long, but it meant that there was an opportunity for people like him to make some quick cash, enough to move to another town, one that didn't have the Endkiller in it.
Usually, a score like that would need a few more guys, or at least one to keep lookout while he worked, but he needed the full payout for himself if he was to get out of town. He was gambling that, so long as he stayed quiet, the police and heroes would be too busy keeping an eye on the parties that were still going on (people had gone back to work, but the nightlife was still celebrating the Simurgh's death) to notice him.
Turning off the alarm and cracking open the lock had been child's play. All that was left was opening the safe, taking the cash and any portable valuables, and then he would be home free. He knelt by the heavy metal box and prepared to put his ear against it –
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Frank froze, his hands already holding onto the safe. He had never heard that noise before, but he'd read people describing it, and listened to the rumors that circulated around town.
"Fuck," he whispered, and turned slowly, his heart racing.
There he was. Lasombra, the Endkiller, looking exactly like Frank had heard him described, standing in the door frame and backlit by the streetlights, staring at Frank without saying anything. His big wolf was nowhere to be seen, but from what Frank had read, that didn't mean anything, as Lasombra could call it in the blink of an eye.
Briefly, the burglar considered drawing the gun he was carrying (more because this was still Brockton Bay and nobody smart went out at night without a piece than because he'd expected to use it on his heist). Then his sense of self-preservation caught the part of him that was stupid enough to think of using the weapon, dragged it into a dark alley, and beat it unconscious with a hammer before stealing its wallet.
Yeah, he wasn't going to shoot the cape who had killed the Simurgh, thank you very much.
"I surrender," Frank called out with his hands raised. "Please don't punch me."
Lasombra cocked his head to the side. It was impossible to read the expression of a faceless manifestation of purest darkness, but Frank had the feeling the cape was amused by the absurdity of the whole situation.
Good. Frank would much rather Lasombra be amused at him than angry.
"PHONE ?" Lasombra asked, his voice seeming to come from all around Frank, who shivered in not-at-all concealed terror.
"I, huh, yes," he hurried to answer. "I've got a phone."
"CALL."
Slowly, Frank took out his phone and, with trembling fingers, input the number. It ringed twice before someone picked up :
"911," said the operator in a clipped, professional voice, "what's your emergency ?"
"Hello. I, huh, I would like to surrender myself into police custody for breaking and entering. I … I am currently looking at Lasombra." He quickly gave the store's address, never breaking not-quite-eye contact with the Endkiller.
"… A police car has been dispatched to your location. Sir, is Lasombra still present ?"
"Yep. Yep he is." Unfortunately.
Not that Frank intended to run even if Lasombra decided to leave before the police arrived. He didn't want the cape to have any reason to be pissed off at him and take off the kid gloves. Besides, as far as he could tell, Frank was the first person to see Lasombra since the Battle of Canberra. Part of him wished he'd a pen on him so he could ask Lasombra for an autograph – God knew selling it online would buy him more than enough money to move to another country.
"Hand him the phone, please," asked the operator.
"Alright," Frank replied, ignoring his initial impulse of telling the man to fuck off, and called out to the Endkiller : "They, huh, they want to talk to you – Jesus !"
Suddenly, Lasombra was right in front of him, having crossed the distance between them in less than a blink. Fortunately, Frank's grip on the phone had tightened in fright, so he didn't drop it, but he could feel the years that had just shaved off his lifespan as he handed the device over.
"SIT," said Lasombra, and Frank let himself collapse on the ground, back against the safe he'd been hoping to crack.
The sight of Lasombra holding his cell phone next to the shapeless mass of darkness that served as his head was surreal to the point of being almost comical.
"YES," said Lasombra in answer to something the operator had said. "UNDERSTOOD."
The Endkiller tossed Frankie's phone back to him, and he barely caught it before it hit the floor. Glancing at the screen, he saw that the call had been terminated.
"Right," he muttered. "I'll just … huh … just sit here and wait, then ?"
Lasombra wasn't looking at him anymore : he was back outside, looking up at the night sky, both hands resting on the pommel of his cane (the cane that had smacked the Simurgh through a building, Frankie's subconscious reminded him).
A figure landed in the street, wearing a costume Frankie recognized immediately from the countless times he'd seen her on the news or in merch stores across the country.
"ALEXANDRIA," said Lasombra with a nod.
"Lasombra," replied the member of the Triumvirate. "I'm glad to see you're well. We need to talk."
There was a moment of silence as two of the most powerful capes in the world stared at each other right in front of Frankie, who was trying very hard not to make any noise. Then Lasombra inclined his head, and said :
"YES. TOMORROW. NOON. PRT. ENOCH."
And then, just like that, Lasombra was gone, leaving Frankie alone with one of the most powerful Brutes in the world, whose body language looked rather frustrated at the moment.
Great. How much longer before the police arrived to take him to a nice, safe cell ?
Director Piggot felt at once exhilarated and very, very tired. The death of the Simurgh had been as much of a welcome surprise to her as it had been to everyone else on the planet, but it had also meant a lot more work on her plate. For once, that work hadn't involved massive property damage and human loss of life, which was no small consolation, but she still had to deal with a lot of national and international interest in her city once people had figured out it was the hometown of the Endkiller.
As a result, she'd spent most of the last three days behind her desk, taking calls and participating in video conferences. Half of the latter could have been emails instead, or skipped entirely, but there were far too many people who wanted to be involved with Lasombra, even if only peripherally.
She hadn't had time to join any of the celebrations, apart from the one the cafeteria staff had organized – and even, her injuries meant that she hadn't been able to drink any alcohol. It had nearly been enough to make her reconsider her decision not to ask Panacea to heal her kidneys – nearly, but not quite.
At least that meant she wasn't suffering from a hangover for this, unlike half of her staff. She was still nervous, but that was just a sign that she was still sane : very few people would be able to relax while sitting in a room next to one of the Triumvirate, after all, with another member, as well as the Chief Director of the entire PRT, attending through teleconference. Armsmaster was a reassuringly familiar presence, clad in his full armor and with his halberd in hand.
Alexandria had been in Brockton Bay since the quarantine of Canberra had been lifted, with plans for her to be replaced by another member of the Triumvirate on a rotational basis until Lasombra was found (or his death from his injuries against the Simurgh was confirmed, though nobody had said that part out loud).
The high-level Brute had been cordial and professional, taking the time to speak with Emily as well as Armsmaster, Velocity, and every cape on the Protectorate's roster who had met Lasombra, even in passing. She had helped deal with a few incidents amidst the festivities, all of which had been woefully beneath her usual activities, but as she had put it, as long as she was here, she might as well assist.
There was a part of Piggot that felt incredibly bitter about this. For years, she had asked for reinforcements to deal with the gangs. She had all but begged for one of the Triumvirate to drop by for a few weeks so that they could take some of the city back from the ABB and E88. And it was only now, with the gangs wiped out, that the Protectorate's mightiest heroes deigned to come to Brockton Bay.
She was professional enough not to let her feelings show, but she was pretty sure Alexandria knew them regardless thanks to her high Thinker rating. If she did, though, she too was professional enough not to mention them.
And then, last night, Lasombra had finally reappeared, during a frankly insignificant break-in that wouldn't even have registered on the BBPD's radar a couple of months ago. Mister Russo, currently in custody awaiting trial (and, according to her contacts, very relieved of that fact), was quite possibly the single unluckiest criminal she'd ever heard of.
Emily wasn't blind. The truth was, if Lasombra asked for it, he would be crowned God-King of Brockton Bay within the week, and the state probably within the month. Fuck, if that burgeoning cult of his managed to grow, he might end up taking over the entire United States eventually, and unless he really messed things up, he would probably have the support of a majority of the population. That was how much taking down the Simurgh had changed things.
Fortunately, Lasombra hadn't displayed any hint of such ambitions before. That didn't mean he wouldn't; killing an Endbringer was the kind of thing that made someone reconsider their plans. But Piggot was reasonably optimistic.
"We have a masked teenage girl in the atrium," reported Armsmaster, bringing her attention back to the present. "She's approaching the reception desk."
A teenage girl ? Was Lasombra … no, surely not. But then, what was going on ?
"She's given the password," Armsmaster continued. "The receptionist has directed her toward the elevator. Troopers Guy and Thompson are escorting her to this room."
Ah yes, the password. 'Enoch', a name straight out of the Old Testament, where it was the name of the son of Cain the first murderer, the name of the first city either said murderer or his eponymous son had built, or the name of a Patriarch from before the Deluge who had been 'taken by God, and was no more' (whatever that meant). At the direct order of the Chief Director, Watchdog had been asked to see if there was any meaning to that particular term being chosen as a password.
It had gone about as well as could be reasonably expected : at least this time nobody had started screaming about the hungry blackness looking back with a thousand eyes, or whatever nonsense had happened when the Thinktank had investigated possible ties between Lasombra and the Fallen. That particular possibility had been thoroughly debunked by the death of the Simurgh, which was some small reassurance.
Also, at least the Sun hadn't disappeared, and Piggot hated the fact that had been a real possibility. After entirely too much back-and-forth, they'd used one of Omen's daily questions to ask what the odds were of this meeting turning violent. For once, instead of returning a complete non-answer like every time they'd tried asking the precognitive child anything about Lasombra, Miss Alcott had been able to answer : 'zero percent if nobody on our side does anything stupid'.
Which wasn't how her power was supposed to work, and had led Piggot to think the kid was messing with them, feeling indebted to Lasombra for killing Coil before he could enact his plan of killing her parents and abducting her. Omen couldn't lie about her questions' percentages, not without triggering a painful and visible migraine, but Piggot had realized they'd never tested whether that was the case when her power ran against Lasombra's anti-Thinker effect.
Something to think about later. For now, Piggot would do everything in her power to ensure this went well.
The door of the windowless meeting room opened, and a young blonde woman with a domino mask strutted in like she owned the place (although Piggot had a feeling the bravado was at least partly faked) and sat down on the chair closest to the singular entrance. Behind her, the troopers who had escorted her stayed outside and closed the door.
"Hello, everyone !" she greeted them enthusiastically, her gaze sweeping those in attendance. "Wow, this is quite the gathering you have put together. The boss will be flattered."
"You are not Lasombra," said Armsmaster.
"Nope !" replied the young woman cheerfully. "As I'm sure your helmet's scanners already told you, I'm Tattletale. Lasombra sent me in his place because, well, he still doesn't trust the PRT with his civilian identity, and showing up as his cape self would both be intimidating and not conductive to proper conversation, what with him only being able to speak in one-word sentences to avoid overwhelming people."
Tattletale. A Thinker with a talent for figuring out the secrets of other people, in the same room as her and Alexandria. Brilliant. Alexandria's power might provide some protection against other Thinkers, and she knew for a fact Armsmaster had incorporated such countermeasures into his armor, but she didn't have anything of the sort. It was good, then, that she didn't have any hostile or treacherous intentions.
"What does Lasombra have to do with a criminal like yourself ?" asked Piggot, frowning, while also making a mental note that it seemed the analysts' theory that Lasombra's power included a Changer aspect were right – assuming Tattletale wasn't deliberately misleading them. Thankfully, figuring out whether that was the case would be the job of Watchdog once they watched the footage of this discussion.
"It's a long story, but to sum it up, me and the rest of the Undersiders were working for Coil as part of his plan to destabilize the city so he could end up as King of the Bay, possibly literally," Tattletale answered casually. "In my case, it was under threat of death by bullet to the brain. When Coil tried to get Lasombra under his control and got himself killed as a result, I got in touch with Lasombra to say thanks, and since we also could use his protection, the Undersiders pledged our service to him."
That was one theory confirmed, then. The thought that Calvert had been stupid enough to think he could control Lasombra of all capes boggled the mind; even if he'd yet to kill the Simurgh at that point, he'd still taken down Lung and Oni Lee, Hookwolf, and an Empire ambush involving most of their capes with almost insulting ease.
"You know Lasombra's civilian identity," said Alexandria suddenly.
"Yes," replied Tattletale, her smile dropping slightly. "I figured it out while still under Coil's employ, and I'm ninety-percent certain he used his power to torture it out of me in simulated timeline – that was his power, by the way."
Emily's eyes widened at those dual revelations (Coil's power, while interesting, was far less so than knowing the teenager in front of her had such incredibly valuable – and dangerous – information in her brain) while Tattletale's gaze remained fixed on Alexandria for a few seconds, before she continued :
"But I'm not going to share that secret with you. He wouldn't like that, and no offence, but he scares me a lot more than you. Yes, even you, Alexandria. The worst you can do is killing me; Lasombra can send me where he sent the Simurgh, although I'd have to really screw up to push him that far."
"We have no desire to anger Lasombra ourselves," Legend cut in from his screen. "Him keeping his civilian identity hidden from us is no problem, as long as we can establish a dialogue. Why exactly did he send you, Tattletale ?"
"To serve as a go-between," she explained, taking a burner phone from her pocket and putting it on the table. "I'm going to call him and put him on speaker so he can join the discussion; don't worry, we set things up so his natural voice won't cause anyone to freak out. And, Armsmaster ? Please don't try to trace the call, or have Dragon do it. I have no doubt that you could beat my countermeasures, but again, none of us want Lasombra to be pissed off."
"Understood," grunted the local Protectorate leader.
"Good." Tattletale fiddled with the phone for a moment, then slid it to the middle of the table.
"Hello. I am Lasombra." The voice that came out of the phone was flat and artificial, clearly a text-to-speech device. "Tattletale, what is your situation ?"
"Everything's fine, boss," the young cape replied. "We've got Director Piggot, Armsmaster, and Alexandria here in person; and Legend and Chief Director Costa-Brown remotely."
"I see. Is the room sun-proof ?"
"Yes, no windows anywhere. They are taking this seriously, it seems."
"Good. Before we continue, I will provide proof of my identity and Tattletale's claims. Do not panic."
"Do not panic ?" Piggot repeated, alarmed, while Armsmaster's grip on his halberd tightened and Alexandria … stayed exactly the same. "What does that –"
Before she could finish her sentence, an enormous black wolf emerged from Tattletale's shadow. It (no, she, Piggot remembered from the recently-updated PRT file on Lasombra) glanced around the room, then settled down behind Tattletale's chair. Piggot noted that, despite her bravado, the teenage villain was looking distinctly nervous about having such a huge, unnatural predator so close to her.
"I've lost the visual feed," Legend called out urgently. "Did Lasombra just show up ?"
"No," replied Alexandria, still sounding calm and in control. Piggot wanted to think that was because she was a Brute, but Lasombra had proven that was no protection against him. "Only Marchosias, his wolf. She is in the room with us, but hasn't taken any hostile action. She's just staying behind Tattletale."
"I trust this is sufficient proof of my credentials ?" asked Lasombra's artificial voice through the phone.
"Yes," said Alexandria. "In the interest of allowing the Chief Director and Legend to see what is happening, could you call back your projection ?"
"Marchosias is no projection," replied Lasombra after a short delay (probably him typing his answer; this was going to be annoying, but they could deal with it). "She is much more than that. But very well."
Seconds later, the wolf was gone, and the mere mortals in the room breathed a little bit easier. Piggot tried not to think about the fact that the beast could come back at any time, nor about the security implications. She failed, and asked :
"Are you capable of sending your projection anywhere, or does Tattletale's presence serve as some kind of anchor ?"
"The fight against the Simurgh forced me to break beyond my previous limits. I, and my familiar, can manifest anywhere I so choose. There may be restrictions, but if so, I haven't yet discovered them. Although it has only been a few days, and I haven't had much time for experimenting."
Well, that was terrifying. Apparently Lasombra had undergone a Second Trigger while fighting the Endbringer, which was hardly unheard of, but to have it happen to a cape as powerful as Lasombra already was …
And of course, Lasombra had already been capable of teleporting across the entire world to join the fight in Canberra to begin with. Piggot could only hope that the Protectorate Tinkers would be able to figure out some kind of counter to that Mover ability, otherwise a lot of very important people (as well as people who thought they were very important, which was an entirely different but, in her experience, far more annoying group) were going to scream at them until they did. Though nobody had told her about it, she knew for a fact there must be several groups trying to find such a method right now – every single major power to begin with, as well as groups like the CUI or Toybox.
"Not that he would do it without a good reason," Tattletale hurried to add. "The boss is very big on the whole heroic thing."
"Alright, that's enough," Costa-Brown cut in. "We have established that it is Lasombra on the phone. Let's begin our discussion. First, Lasombra, thank you for taking the time and effort to speak with us like this."
"You are welcome. I would have done it earlier, but there were reasons holding me back. With the events of Canberra, however, I judged it was in everyone's best interests to open a dialogue with the authorities."
"And we are grateful for that," assured the Chief Director. "But speaking of Canberra : the Prime Minister of Australia has extended an invitation for you to be present during the commemoration ceremony in Canberra on Saturday. They have arranged for it to take place at night."
"The fallen deserve remembrance. I will be there, but there is no need for a medal; I couldn't take it back with me."
"I will pass it on," said Costa-Brown. "Next question : what exactly did you do to the Simurgh ? Every cape who witnessed it is adamant that we don't need to fear her return, but we do need to ask whether getting the rest of her body back for study is possible."
"It is not. The Endbringer's body was destroyed completely. As for the nature of the place the portal I opened in Canberra led to, it is better for that to remain unknown. Simply know that it is a place hostile to all life, and it is only thanks to my powers I can access it in relative safety."
Not the weirdest explanation for someone's powers Piggot had ever heard, though it was close.
"Our main goal for this meeting was to establish a channel of communication between us," said Piggot, as politely as she could manage. "We've been trying to do this since you first appeared on the scene, but until now, it's been … difficult."
"I do apologize for that, Director Piggot. Personal circumstances, as well as the nature of my power, made that difficult. That has changed, however."
"Oh ?" asked Legend, his image leaning forward on the screen. "So you'll be available for contact in the future ?"
"Yes. If you need to contact me in the future, you can use this number. As arranging for this text-to-speech setup takes some time, please restrict yourselves to texts unless the situation truly warrants it. And I don't think it needs to be said, but do not let it fall into the wrong hands."
It shouldn't have been possible for a clearly artificial voice to sound threatening, Piggot reflected, and yet, here they were.
"In addition, I have created an account on PHO whose ID is known to Tattletale; I would appreciate if you could assist its validation. With my Stranger power, the usual requirements are impossible to meet."
"May I ask why you need it ?" asked Piggot, who had trouble imagining the cape who'd killed the Simurgh idly browsing PHO.
"I have no intention to spend time on PHO, but I might need to make a public announcement at some point in the future, if only to stop the people making cults in my name from breaking the law. Having a way to do so with my identity recognized by the moderators will help in that."
"Speaking of," said Alexandria. "We have already identified several groups claiming to be worshippers of yours, both in Canberra and in this very city. What do you intend to do about it ?"
"As long as they don't claim to be speaking for me or commit any crimes, nothing. Without resorting to means I would rather avoid, my interference is likely to do more harm than good. If they do cross the line, however, feel free to deal with them; I will if you don't."
That was a relief. Freedom of religion was one of the key principles of the country, but the advent of parahuman powers had complicated that matter just like it had everything else. The fact that Lasombra could potentially back up any claims to his divinity just made it even more of a nightmare to deal with.
"Back onto the list of subjects we need to discuss, there is the matter of the reward," said Costa-Brown. "Officially, there wasn't a bounty on the Simurgh, because, well … Nobody really thought she could be killed. But we've been contacted by a large number of parties wanting to reward you for your actions in Canberra. The Australian government, as well as every country that has ever suffered from a Simurgh attack, and many others who didn't. The collective amount is rather substantial."
"You can put the money together in a Number Man account, and tell Lasombra where and when to go get the card by text," Tattletale cut in.
"Is that okay with you, Lasombra ?" asked the Chief Director.
"It is. Out of curiosity, how much are we talking about, exactly ?"
"There are still new bounties coming in, but last I checked, the total was creeping up to a couple hundred millions dollars."
Tattletale visibly choked at the number, not that Piggot could blame her. It wasn't that the reward wasn't deserved, but even for someone who ran the entire ENE branch of the PRT, this was a lot of money.
"I see," said Lasombra after a slightly longer pause than usual. "I will make sure it is put to good use, then."
"There are concerns about what you did in Canberra," said Alexandria. "Specifically, the artificial night you created. It was you who did it, correct ?"
"It was. The light of the Sun is anathema to my power; I needed to blot it out in order to be able to fight the Simurgh."
"Do you intend to do it again in the future ?" asked Legend.
"Only if it is necessary. I understand that using this power casually would cause panic, if only because people will assume something on the scale of an Endbringer attack is happening, and do more harm than good."
"What exactly would 'necessary' mean ?" Piggot cut in.
"Immediate danger to the people of Brockton Bay ? I honestly cannot give you hard rules. Just assume that, if the Sun goes dark, it will mean something has gone very wrong."
That was … less helpful than Piggot would have liked, but she couldn't fault Lasombra. Unfortunately, just as Lasombra had said, everyone who saw it happen would assume the worst, so they'd have to deal with a panicking population at the same time as whatever crisis forced Lasombra's hand. She made a mental note to run everyone through the course on dealing with hysterical crowds and de-escalation tactics, just in case.
"There have been questions about whether you can help the victims of the Simurgh in the quarantined cities, given your success with Fog and Night," said Costa-Brown. "Do you think that is in your power ?"
"The curse of the Simurgh is deeply rooted into the mind of its victims. I do not know whether my power can free them, but I am willing to try."
"Thank you," replied the Chief Director. "We'll arrange to have a few of them brought to Brockton Bay, under heavy guard, of course, and contact you to arrange the details."
"What's your relationship with Tattletale and the Undersiders, exactly ?" asked Piggot. "She told us about them being employed by Coil, but nothing more."
"Tattletale works for me in getting Coil's ill-gotten wealth reinvested into the Bay. With the Simurgh's reward money coming in, I expect I'll require her services even more in the future. She and the other Undersiders are under my protection, so long as they commit no further crimes."
"Hellhound has a warrant out for murder," Piggot pointed out.
"Her cape name is Bitch, Director. And, having met her, I can tell you she is much less of a violent brute than the media and the PRT have depicted her as. Tattletale can tell you more about how the story of her so-called murder was warped. Besides, I know for a fact the PRT has made deals with worse capes for far lesser benefits."
Costa-Brown's silence was damning, not that anyone in the room was surprised.
"As long as she doesn't commit anymore crimes, we can let her go," Piggot conceded. "But the safety of Brockton Bay is still my job, so I have to ask : what are your intentions now ?"
"To continue protecting Brockton Bay, and deal with the other Endbringers and any other such threats to the world which may arise in the future."
There was something about the way Lasombra had phrased it that sent a shiver down Piggot's spine. Why had Lasombra felt the need to add that mention about 'other such threats' ? What did the cape know that the rest of them didn't ?
She looked around, but neither Alexandria, Legend or Costa-Brown were reacting.
"Then I believe that is all we need to discuss for the moment," said the Chief Director. "Thank you again for talking with us like this. We'll set up the PHO account and the money transfer as soon as possible; you should expect it to be done by the end of the day, tomorrow at the latest."
"Thank you. I look forward to working with you for the betterment of Humanity."
On that moderately ominous statement, the call ended. There were many, many more questions Piggot wanted to ask, as did they all. But they knew not to push it. The most important questions had been answered, and they had established a method for future contact.
"I trust any secrets discussed in this room will remain confidential ?" asked Alexandria, her gaze not quite burning a hole through Tattletale's mask.
"Sure," replied the Thinker. "I won't tell anything to anyone who wasn't already here."
Piggot didn't need years of experience dealing with bureaucrats to see the implication there, but it wasn't like they could keep her from talking with Lasombra.
Inside the empty apartment where Lisa had set up the computer and phone combination which had allowed me to communicate with the PRT, I let out a sigh of relief. That had gone about as well as it could have done, I thought. I still needed to debrief Lisa about what her power had told her, just in case she'd picked up on some sinister scheme, but that seemed unlikely.
Two hundred million dollars. That was … that was a lot of money. I had known, objectively, that the death of the Simurgh was a big deal, but I hadn't really expected to benefit materially from it. After the sheer desperation of the battle, the sacrifices of so many capes, it almost seemed obscene to be paid for it. But at the same time, it wasn't like I could turn it down.
I would have to tell Dad about it. As an adult, he could use it while drawing a lot less attention than me. The bulk of it would go to Tattletale's efforts to reinvigorate the Bay's economy, but I felt like I deserved to use at least part of it on my family.
We would have to be careful about spending it, though. Suddenly spending lots of cash would draw the attention of the IRS, and all jokes aside, while bounties were tax-free, explaining where the money had come from would require revealing my identity.
And preserving my identity had been the whole reason I'd decided to ask Tattletale to serve as an intermediary after my meeting with Alexandria, which she had gleefully accepted, even if it meant she'd be in the same room as Alexandria while being ostensibly a villain. Which had worried Dad, until I'd promised that I would make sure Lisa was safe, even if I had to blot out the Sun and go extract her from the PRT headquarters – at which point he'd gotten worried for an entirely different reason.
Not that it had been an unreasonable reaction. Now that I knew where the name Lasombra had come from, using it for myself felt … weird. Its legacy as belonging to someone worse than the worst villains of Earth-Bet made it uncomfortable. But that identity was already firmly established, and to the people of Earth-Bet, Lasombra was the Endkiller, the cape who had done the impossible. Trying to rebrand at this stage was, if not impossible, then impractical.
I would just have to make the name Lasombra mean something else here, something which would make the Antediluvian turn in his grave – if he had one. I didn't know what Gratiano had done with the Antediluvian's remains after his Diablerie, for obvious reasons, but somehow I doubted it had been very respectful.
Thinking about this brought back a whole bunch of other things to worry about. I knew where Lau-Som-Bheu's (I'd decided to use one of the Antediluvian's other names for my predecessor in my head, to keep the distinction between him and me clear) powers came from. It all derived from the innate power of the human soul, all the way back to when Lilith had Awakened Caine in the Land of Nod following his banishment by Adam for killing his brother. The Embrace had passed on that potential to Caine's childer, and then to their own childer, only for Lau-Som-Bheu to defile the gift even more than it had already been by the Curse of Undeath through his delving into the mysteries of the Abyss.
The whole Discipline of Obtenebration was derived from the way the Antediluvian's studies had seeped into his blood, and from that into his entire Clan. Every vampire of Clan Lasombra had a foot into the metaphorical door simply by being inducted into the bloodline, although that particular door was one that could be used in both directions, as many would-be Abyssal Mystics had found out to their detriment.
But parahuman powers were different. According to what Dad had seen in the Abyss, they were the result of some kind of alien monstrosities latching onto people as their hosts and bestowing them with supernatural abilities. It was possible that the Queen Administrator, as she had introduced herself, was just a construct of Dad's mind, his perception of his own sudden parahuman power reflected by the Abyss, just like the rest of the Castle of Shadows had been a reflection of my inherited memories. But I didn't think this was the case.
Figuring the truth behind all this was important, because parahuman powers had been slowly driving Earth-Bet closer and closer to ruin for decades. Sure, I'd killed the Simurgh, but there were still two more Endbringers out there. I might be able to deal with Leviathan the same way I'd the Simurgh, and Behemoth would be harder due to his powerset, but the real issue was, for all I and everyone else knew, there might be more Endbringers waiting in the future, ones who might possess powers I wouldn't be able to handle. Nobody knew where they came from : the most popular theory was that they were parahumans whose powers had grown out of control, but given the fact the Simurgh had been entirely soulless, I found that unlikely. Even Lau-Som-Bheu and his siblings had still possessed their souls, despite how far from baseline Humanity they had become.
And even if I could deal with the Endbringers, having the entire world dependant on my ongoing existence wasn't sustainable, no matter how much it would have pleased Lau-Som-Bheu. I knew what happened to false idols, after all – the memories of the Flood were some of the most powerful I'd inherited, though even they paled in comparison to that of the Mark of Caine, which was a downright memetic hazard.
It had taken me some time to come to terms with the fact that God existed, at least in the universe Lau-Som-Bheu came from, and was exactly the kind of vengeful bastard described in the Old Testament. The theological implications for Earth-Bet were … not great, to put it mildly.
I knew humans in this reality had souls, because they had reflections in the Abyss, but the idea that our entire universe had been literally God-forsaken wasn't exactly reassuring. And it wasn't like I could go talk to a priest about this; how would that conversation go ? 'Hello, I'm the cape who killed the Simurgh, but my powers come from the spirit of a millennia-old vampire from another reality where vampires were real and the descendants of Caine after he was cursed by God, and this is causing me to have troubles with my faith ?'
Either they wouldn't believe me, or they would, which would be worse.
While I recovered, we'd experimented a little with Dad's new powers, and it'd been obvious pretty quickly that whatever the arms he was conjuring were, they weren't linked to the Abyss at all. I couldn't feel anything Abyssal in them : they were just physical constructs that happened to be black. The only reason he'd been able to use them in the Abyss had been because we'd been on the metaphysical surface, and the laws of the physical universe still applied somewhat.
Also, whatever Queen Administrator was, she hadn't actually been in the Abyss; even as confused as I'd been at the time, I'd have felt an additional presence to Dad's and Marchosias'. But if the mirror gallery (which, if I'd pieced together the memories of the Antediluvian correctly, had been an arcane masterwork he'd commissioned from one of the greatest magi of Antiquity in return for returning his ghouled son to him – which he had done, but only after cutting off his tongue, eyes, and all ten of his fingers, because Lau-Som-Bheu had been a prick like that) had shown her, then it meant that Queen Administrator wasn't Dad's power, but the source of it, connected to him from … well. That was the question, wasn't it.
We had also briefly discussed the possibility of Dad accompanying Lasombra out on patrol, but dismissed it rather quickly. Unlike me, Dad would need to physically go out and risk himself, and his power didn't make him bulletproof. Fortunately, he was perfectly fine with staying at home and not going out looking for criminals, although I'd needed to talk him down from keeping watch all night, since he needed to sleep during the night if he was to keep up with his work in the DWU.
That still put him miles above the standard cape, who from my research all seemed to have the urge to go out and fight each other in the streets. Although, given what I now knew about the origins of parahuman powers, maybe that was a feature. The fact that Tattletale's power had shorted out the moment it had told her about Queen Administrator hinted that there were safeguards in place to keep parahumans from learning the truth about their powers' origins, and the existence of such safeguards hinted at the presence of other control mechanisms – like, for instance, something to push parahumans into seeking conflict. Parahuman research had countless examples of people's behavior shifting after their Trigger Event to become more aggressive, even though there wasn't enough evidence to prove it wasn't the natural result of trauma.
Lau-Som-Bheu had performed enough nightmarish social experiments (involving both humans and vampires) over the millennia for me to know that, if these powers had been given to Mankind on purpose, then I had to assume that investigating their origins in depth could trigger some kind of countermeasure, designed to prevent interference in whatever scheme was unfolding all across Earth-Bet.
At the same time, the memories of those same experiments told me that whatever was responsible was supremely unlikely to have the best interests of Humanity in mind, and the fate of the lab rats who'd outlived their usefulness was rarely kind.
My hands tightened into fists, and the shadows around me rippled. Whatever scheme had caught Earth-Bet, I would put an end to it.
Notes:
AN : Another chapter that got away from me and ended up waaaaay longer than I had planned. The discussion might feel a bit off, because I had to stitch together a number of snippets I'd come up with separately - something I really should try to avoid in the future.
Also, poor Frank. He definitely didn't deserve that. On the plus side, he'll have one hell of a story to tell in jail.
As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments.
Zahariel out.
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Fandoms:
Parahumans Series - WildbowVampire: The Masquerade
Characters:
Taylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverLasombra Antediluvian (Vampire: The Masquerade)
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Canon-Typical ViolenceAlt-Power Taylor HebertCompetent Parahuman Response Team | PRT
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Published:2025-06-22Updated:2026-02-11Words:157,182Chapters:25/?Comments:650Kudos:1,403Bookmarks:540Hits:75,925
Abyssal Escalation
Zahariel_Scholar
Chapter 19: Remembrance
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean wasn't sure why Arcadia's administration had decided it was worth it to order their students to get back to school on Thursday. Half the students were nursing hangovers (if there was ever a justification to waive age restrictions for alcohol, the death of the Simurgh definitely was it) and the other half either lacked sleep or were still shell-shocked from the sudden change in their world-view. For as long as any of Arcadia's students had been alive, the Endbringers had been this ominous unstoppable threat, always present in the background.
The change in people's emotional auras compared to last week was impossible to miss – not that he needed his parahuman power to see it. This morning alone, Dean had seen two students burst into tears as they were suddenly reminded that yes, the Hopekiller was dead. At least the teachers were playing it cool, though given that most of whom were in the same state as the students, that might be for other reasons that simple kindness. They knew what was on everybody's minds, and were keeping classes relaxed while waiting for the day's classes to end and everyone to go back home for the weekend.
Dean was grateful for that, since he too wasn't exactly operating at one-hundred percent capacity. The last few days were something of a blur; the only thing he was certain of was that Vicky and him had gotten back together earlier this week, after the news of Canberra had hit and a bunch of people had gathered at his family house to party. His father had broken out the good wine from the cellar, and it would have been impolite to refuse to at least toast – then one thing had led to another, and he'd eventually woken up with a few hickeys and a deep-seated sense of happiness that had briefly caused him to worry they'd gone too far while inebriated (they hadn't, which had been a relief).
Apart from the half-asleep, headache-fighting students, there were also a lot of students wearing patches, armbands and other decorations honoring Lasombra. Some of them were simply a black disk, representing how the cape had blotted out the Sun above Canberra; others were more elaborate, with iconography of crowns and sceptres. In other circumstances, Dean would have been as worried about the possible cult affiliations of the latter category as the teachers looked to be, even though nobody had said anything yet – presumably they were waiting to see if this was a temporary fad or something more permanent. But he had something more important to worry about.
Specifically, Lasombra himself – or rather, herself.
The girl, Taylor Hebert as he'd discreetly found out after seeing her for the first time, hadn't been at school yesterday, while Lasombra had been out of action. Given that far fewer students had been present yesterday than today, that hadn't drawn any undue attention. Now, however, she was back, and her aura looked more ominous than ever. The size of the black circle had grown significantly, and the darkness appeared to pulse like a heartbeat, expanding and contracting in a regular rhythm, but never breaching the corona of light surrounding it.
The nervousness he'd read in the corona which he assumed represented Taylor's own emotions was still there (he suspected it would never completely go away whenever she was inside a school), but it had decreased. Instead, there was a newfound sense of self-confidence, as well as an undercurrent of a whole bunch of mixed colors, which his mind couldn't help but compare to a whole bunch of colored skittles thrown together randomly.
Dean wasn't sure what he should do. Oh, he wasn't going to tell his superiors he knew Lasombra's civilian identity, fuck that. But he wasn't sure whether he should tell the teenage girl he was aware of her identity. From what little information had trickled down to the Wards about the meeting yesterday, Tattletale had figured out the truth and Lasombra hadn't killed her to keep it a secret. Although she had ended up becoming Lasombra's minion, and that … wasn't really an option for Dean. For one thing, while it had been some time since he'd read his Ward contract, he was fairly sure there was a clause in it about not becoming subordinate to an independent cape, even one powerful enough to kill an Endbringer.
Fuck it. He wasn't going to decide anything today, with his head still hurting. He would take the week-end to think about it calmly, and make a decision one way or another by Monday. For now, he was going to enjoy the general lifting of everyone's spirits while it lasted.
"Maniacal violence,
It all ends in silence
Here we reclaim our balance.
Free from the slaughter
Where blood flows like water
With him we'll have our vengeance.
Things will be different now. (x3)
Now here comes her fall
She shan't be absolved
For her song would spread
Through us all.
Now it takes hold
Til her dying breath
For he is life and he brings
Death.
Things will be different now. (x3)
Cursed our sons and daughters
Trapped like lambs to slaughter
No exception
For her song spread all the same.
Things will be different now. (x3)"
Song overheard in the streets of Canberra, February 28th, 2011.
For the past week, every part of Canberra that hadn't been occupied by working crews clearing the streets of the rubble of the Endbringer fight had been partying non-stop. Trucks carrying alcohol had been brought in from elsewhere in the country to meet the demand, which had very nearly caused an incident at the edge of the quarantine before the situation had mercifully been resolved without violence (if not without a headache-inducing amount of paperwork for everyone involved).
Across Earth-Bet, the Australian capital had earned a new title : Canberra was the City of Reclaimed Hope. Nobody knew who had first used the nickname, but it had taken root and spread into the public consciousness, quickly picked up by various news organizations entirely too glad to talk about the single greatest piece of good news anyone on the planet had ever received.
People had taken guitars and other musical instruments out of the attic to play in the streets of Canberra, forming impromptu bands that had drawn large crowds, a few of which were looking into going pro. For so long, there'd been so few reasons to sing, to celebrate; the only purpose of music had been to drown out the terror in packed nightclubs, or to forget about the slow decay of the world and pretend that nothing was wrong.
Canberra's quarantine was over now, far faster than on previous attacks of the Simurgh due to a mix of practicality and political necessity. Every person in the Australian capital had been declared clear of the Simurgh's influence, and it was time for the more official (and thus more boring, but no less important) celebration. Presidents and Prime Ministers from all over the world had come to be present, and pay homage to the champions who had given their lives to help kill the Third Endbringer.
The streets of Canberra were packed. Hundreds of thousands of people had come to attend the ceremony, from all over Australia and beyond. Men and women who had family and friends in the cities lost to the Simurgh had travelled from all across the world to be here.
Usually, such a ceremony would take place during the day, but this time, it was taking place at night. Everyone knew why : it was in the hope that Lasombra, the savior of Canberra, would be able to show up without needing to blot out the Sun. The Protectorate had informed the Australian government that they had made contact with Lasombra in his hometown of Brockton Bay, and that the cape had promised to come, but the news hadn't been made public, to avoid disappointment if it turned out false.
The Australian Prime Minister gave his speech first, followed by the current leader of Canberra's hero team, and then Legend. All three members of the Triumvirate were in attendance, but neither Eidolon nor Alexandria were as good with public speaking as Legend, and they weren't the top heroes being honored today.
Once the final speech was done and the applause had faded away, there was a brief pause, as everyone looked around expectantly. And then –
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He was there.
A hushed silence fell upon the crowd as they beheld Lasombra. The Endkiller had come, suddenly appearing out of nowhere in the shadow of the stage. Security jumped at his appearance, but nobody was stupid enough to try to stop him as he slowly walked up to the newly-unveiled memorial.
Countless cameras flashed, even though Lasombra's Stranger effect was well-known. Hundreds of different models had been brought, including a daguerreotype camera that had been pulled out of an attic and feverishly repaired over the last week by an enthusiastic amateur.
None of them worked. Even the daguerreotype only produced a blur of black and white, although it would still sell for several thousand dollars online as a collector's item.
The security cordon parted before Lasombra, and soon the Endkiller was standing before the memorial, not paying any attention to the score of politicians who were torn between desperately wanting to draw his attention and being terrified by the sheer presence he exuded.
The memorial was part of a tradition that dated back to the first Endbringer attack. it was an obelisk made of black marble around a core of reinforced steel, on which were engraved the names of every cape who had died in the fight. All dead capes were remembered by the name they had given to their Dragon armbands; some, the ones whose civilian identity was known and for whom they had received permission, also had that name added next to their cape name.
There had been talk about making this monument special, to mark the fact that the Simurgh had died there. In the end, it had been decided that such would be disrespectful to the capes who had fought and died in previous Endbringer battles. A compromise had been reached : the monument was identical to the ones dotted across Earth-Bet, except for a small plaque near the base, with the words 'Here fell the Simurgh' engraved on it.
Before the gathered crowd, Lasombra knelt at the foot of the monument and bowed his head, one hand pressed against the listed names of the martyred capes. He ran his hand down the monument, across the names of the dead capes, before stopping on the name of Blue Knight.
For a few seconds, Lasombra stayed immobile. Then he turned from the memorial and looked at the crowd (or at least people assumed he was doing so, given his lack of visible eyes).
There was a long moment of tense silence. Then Lasombra inclined his head, first to the ranks of the assembled capes – heroes and villains alike, though few of the latter had chosen to take the Australian government's offer and promise of Truce for the duration of the ceremony – and then back toward the memorial. The darkness at his feet rippled, and the immense wolf that had, according to the stories, wrestled with the Simurgh, appeared behind him, staring at the crowd with black, soulful eyes. Lasombra raised a hand and ran it through the great beast's fur, even as his other held on to his cane.
"TOGETHER," Lasombra said. "VICTORY."
After the shock of hearing his voice come out of every shadow at the same time, allowing every single attendant to hear him, it was like a dam had broken.
"Endkiller !" the crowd roared. "Endkiller ! Endkiller !"
Soon, the chant devolved as men and women shouted, and screamed, and wept, in grief and joy and relief all mixed together, one giant outburst of emotion that shook the very streets. And everywhere in the world where the sound of the ceremony was broadcast, others joined in, adding their own voice to the send-off of Canberra's martyrs.
Through it all, Lasombra remained immobile, head bowed. And far away, laying on her bed in her room, Taylor Hebert remembered the man whose sacrifice had inspired her to go beyond her limits, and mourned him.
Despite it being relatively early on a Sunday, all members of the Undersiders were up. Tattletale, Regent and Grue were sitting in front of the TV, while Bitch was brushing her dogs. Not that she was missing much at the moment, of course.
Watching hundreds of journalists suddenly lose their live feed as Lasombra showed up was hilarious. They had been told about the effect the Endkiller had on cameras, but that hadn't stopped them bringing them in the hope of getting a shot of the most celebrated cape worldwide.
Audio transmissions still worked, so every news channel had gone back to their anchors, who were listening to phone calls from their people in Australia. Lisa could only imagine how smug every radio channel journalist in Canberra was feeling right now.
"Fuck me, that was intense," Alec said as the anchor cut the audio feed and the roar of the crowd in Canberra faded. Glancing at him, Lisa saw that he was actually shivering, with visible goosebumps on the exposed skin of his arms. "You think we could be there in person next time ?"
"What do you mean, next time ?" asked Brian.
"Well, there are still two Endbringers left, right ?" Alec shrugged. "And I don't think the boss is going to skip the next time one of them shows up."
No, Lisa thought as she silently shook her head. Taylor wouldn't miss an Endbringer fight, not for anything. She wasn't sure how the powers of the teenage shadowy overlord would fare against Leviathan or Behemoth (especially the later, as the Herokiller's fire would eat at her projection), but that wouldn't stop Taylor from joining the fray. The younger girl had an almost painful level of altruism – she needed to help others, because nobody had helped her. If not for her overwhelming power, that attitude would either have made her the greatest hero the Protectorate had ever seen, or (far more likely) dead within a year.
"… I guess we'll see what happens in three months," said Brian. "For all we know, the other two are going to be too scared to come out. If one of them does show up … it would be Leviathan next in the rotation, right ? Well, if one of them shows up and Lasombra deals with it, we've got enough money that taking a trip shouldn't be too much of a hit, and there are enough people doing it that we won't draw attention either. What do you think, Tats ?"
Lisa was about to answer when she froze. Moments ago, there had been four people and three dogs in the apartment.
Now there were five people and three dogs, yet she hadn't heard the door open.
"Good evening, Undersiders," a voice that couldn't have possibly been more calm called out.
"What the – fuck !"
A woman was standing in the middle of the hideout's living room. She was wearing a black suit and dress, with a fedora completing the look of just another office person. Except there was no office worker in the world who would have given off as threatening a vibe to Lisa's power.
Bitch stood up, one hand on Brutus' collar. The dog was already growing. Meanwhile, Brian was already calling on his darkness, while Alec's face was contorting as he prepared to activate his Master power.
"Stop !" Lisa shouted. "Don't attack her !"
Is perfectly in control of the situation. Can take down or kill everyone in the room with minimum effort. Is used to being in control.
Miracle of miracles, the other three young adults in the room actually listened to her, and froze in place.
"Tats ?" Brian asked, his voice low.
"We can't beat her," she forced herself to say, ignoring the terror she felt as her power informed her how completely outclassed they were.
In a way, it was worse than being in Lasombra's presence, because then she could at least pretend that her power was being fed bullshit data and coming to bullshit conclusions – and after meeting Taylor and talking with her face to face, a lot of the fear had gone away. But in this woman's case, she knew, with absolute certainty, that a fight between her and the entire Undersiders could only end one way.
"She has some kind of combat Thinker power, or at least something which can be used like it," Tattletale said aloud. Then she forced herself to grin : "but it doesn't work on Lasombra, does it ? That's why you have come to us, or rather to me, because he's using me as an intermediary, and because you know I work for him. Also because right now, he's in Australia getting a medal from the Prime Minister, so he won't show up here to stop you."
Which was a big assumption on the woman's part, since while Lasombra might be in Canberra right now, Taylor was still in her home. But it was a logical assumption, since everyone thought Lasombra was a Changer rather than a projection.
"You are correct," the woman said. "I need to make direct contact with Lasombra, without passing through the PRT. You know his civilian identity. You will give it to me."
"No, I won't," Lisa riposted. "You scare the crap out of me, but I'm more scared of Lasombra being mad at me than I'm of you. And even if you could do all kinds of horrible things to me and my friends, you won't, because you don't want him to be angry at you either, and Lasombra is a real hero and doesn't take kindly to that sort of thing."
Lisa wasn't exactly bluffing, but she sure as hell was rolling dice, betting that she'd read the situation correctly.
"If you want to talk to Lasombra and can't go through the PRT channels, then I can arrange that," she conceded. "Give me a phone number, an email address, or hell, a PHO profile, and I can ask Lasombra to contact you. But I'm not going to out him to whatever organization you're working for."
The woman stared at Lisa for a long time, then finally nodded.
"Acceptable. Here." She produced a piece of paper on which was written a string of characters – the address of a PHO chatroom – and put on the table. The fact the woman carried it in the first place indicated that she'd expected the conversation to go the way it had and had merely played a part to get to this point as quickly as possible.
The woman looked directly at Lisa as she thought this, and the younger Thinker understood that this realization, too, had been part of her plan. God, was this how other people felt when she used her power around them ? No wonder she'd pissed off so many people since her Trigger.
"With that, my business here is concluded. Goodbye," said the woman, and she walked out of the hideout – despite the fact that Lisa was certain they had locked the door and the keys weren't anywhere near it. Sure. Fine. Why not ?
Once the door slammed shut behind their visitor, Lisa let herself collapse on her chair, trying not to start hyperventilating.
"Tats ?" Brian asked urgently. "Talk to me, Tats. Who the fuck was that ?"
"I have absolutely no clue," she replied with complete honesty. "But I do know that she could have killed us all without breaking a sweat if she wanted. Also, she somehow plotted our entire conversation and arranged it to end the way it did, which isn't something I thought anybody could do since Lasombra killed the Simurgh."
"So … you gonna tell the boss about this ?" asked Alec.
"I'm going to have to," Lisa sighed, her heart rate beginning to slow down. "He isn't going to be happy about it, but he's reasonable. He'll see we aren't at fault, and that I didn't spill his contact info even under threat."
"I got a question," Bitch called out.
"What ?"
"Who the fuck was dumb enough to risk pissing off the cape who killed the Simurgh by going after his minions ?"
"That's … a very good question, actually," Lisa admitted. Sure, the woman in the fedora had a scary as hell power, but she was still 'just' a parahuman, and she knew her power didn't work on Lasombra. Why would she take the risk of provoking the wrath of the single most powerful cape in the world (except maybe Scion) ?
Hesitantly, she activated her power, remembering what little she had seen of the woman before she left for it to extrapolate from.
Came to the Undersiders while Lasombra was observed in Canberra. Isn't aware of Lasombra being a projection. Doesn't know Lasombra's civilian identity. Has tried to find it using Thinker power without success.
So far, nothing she hadn't already deduced for herself. She kept going.
Knew allegiance of the Undersiders to Lasombra. Knew of meeting between Lasombra and PRT using Lisa as intermediary. Has contacts within the PRT; has high-level contacts within the PRT; has contacts with members of the PRT that were present at the meeting.
Ah. Now that was worrying. Finding out that Alexandria was Rebecca Costa-Brown and using a body double had been a surprise. Finding out that Legend knew about it and was in on the plot had been an unwelcome surprise.
Taylor hadn't been happy to hear about it either, but hadn't given it much thought. She'd had more pressing concerns on her mind when Lisa had met her after the discussion with the PRT, though Lisa's power had been, as usual, unable to figure out what those were. She knew it was related to her sudden headache back at Taylor's home, though.
In any case, the woman in the fedora was associated with Alexandria. So if all she wanted was to send a message to Lasombra, she could have used the point of contact established at said meeting – unless she didn't want the PRT to know about it. But Lisa had trouble believing the woman couldn't have figured a way to make sure nobody found out. There was more at play here.
Her power kept going, almost without her prompting.
Has access to resources far in excess of the Undersiders. Still couldn't find Lasombra's identity. Used to rely on Thinker power for solutions to problems; Thinker power completely blind where Lasombra is concerned. Had to resort to leaning on the Undersiders to make contact.
Broke the Unwritten Rules by intruding on the Undersiders' base. Not worried about possible consequences. Is part of the ones responsible for enforcing these consequences. Is part of an organization with vast power and influence.
Organization takes secrecy very seriously. Revealing existence may lead to termination. Knew that Lisa would figure out the organization's existence. Warning to not reveal it implicit in leaving Lisa alive.
"Oh," Lisa said aloud, as she collapsed back onto the sofa. "Oh, fuck."
"Emily,
I've got confirmation that the Teeth have left the Boston area and are on their way to Brockton Bay. I understand you still have Alexandria there, but remember that she won't be able to help against the Butcher, as per the protocols for dealing with the Teeth. If you've got a way to contact Lasombra, I'd advise doing so immediately so he knows about the risk.
I don't want to imagine what a Butchered Lasombra would look like, but I do know that idea has already given nightmares to several members of my analysis staff, and at least one of them had a mental breakdown as a result. No matter what, he needs to stay clear of the Teeth.
I know it's a repugnant idea, but you might need to sacrifice a cape to the Butcher in order to contain them. Under normal circumstances, I would never mention that possibility, but when the alternative is the Endkiller possibly being turned against us … well. I'm sure you have had your own nightmares about that possibility.
I am sorry. I know you will do the best you can, no matter what. Attached to this mail are all the notes we got on the Teeth's current parahuman roster, as well as recommendations for dealing with them. If you need anything else, call me.
Good luck,
Kamil."
Email sent from PRT Director Armstrong to PRT Director Piggot, March 2nd, 2011.
"The parahuman gang known as the Teeth are currently on their way to Brockton Bay.
According to the intelligence we got from Boston, the Teeth currently have six parahuman members, including the Butcher, and are accompanied by approximately thirty unpowered members. All of them present a clear threat to civilians : familiarize yourself with the attached files describing their powers and tactics as soon as possible.
Due to the presence of the Butcher, all the Wards have been sent to New York until the situation is dealt with. Omen will also not be providing support, as, given that a Tinker was previously possessed due to selling the weapons used to kill a previous Butcher, there is a possibility that her help might lead to her being a candidate for the inheritance should Butcher be eliminated.
We are coordinating with the BBPD, New Wave, and our out-of-town reinforcements to deal with the situation.
And yes, we have informed Lasombra."
Extract from an email sent to all PRT-ENE members, March 2nd, 2011.
"Understood.
I will deal with the Butcher myself.
Don't worry; I believe I have a way of dealing with the inheritance problem."
Text message sent from the phone number registered in the PRT database as 'Lasombra', March 2nd, 2011.
Notes:
AN : Despite being French, the Author of this fic does not condone underage drinking. That being said, "The Simurgh just died" is one hell of an excuse to make an exception.
The song at the start of this chapter is "Things Will Be Different Now" by Colm R. McGuinness, available online, with some minor change to the lyrics. I stumbled upon it while writing this chapter, and I couldn't help myself.
I've been struggling with figuring out how to deal with the Butcher. Oh, I have plenty of options, but I want to find something which fits with the metaphysical mechanics of the story so far (and for the future), if that makes sense.
Still, my plan is to finish this story by the end of 2025. Wish me luck.
As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments.
Zahariel out.
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