Echoes in Brockton

Zena’s check in was substantially less troublesome, but more frustrating. She’d spent nearly the last full week wandering in the wilderness north of Mt. Rikuroa looking for Noa, putting the world saving quest completely on the back burner. That was certainly unfortunate, especially since there weren’t any Gobu Gobu or other humanoid enemies in the area.

She was getting a decent amount of experience from killing random monstrous butterflies and… magically animated pumpkins, apparently? However, even leveling up was starting to slow down as the threat posed by random encounters dwindled. She picked up several handy abilities like one that boosted her movement speed by a hefty 20% in short bursts and several suddenly inspired recipes for smoke bombs and simple poisons. Unfortunately, those recipes almost exclusively drew upon ingredients she didn’t know how to source.

He left her with instructions to help as best she could, and told her the missions for her world. Her needing to kill Master Zopu would probably be a bad thing, but Gil still held out hope it would be a narratively appropriate thing to do and would just kinda happen eventually.

“Oh, and tell Terra that Noa is probably still alive and I’m working on something that should let me track her.” Gil said, “If you do decide to split off from the glorious heroes, I’d suggest going into the mist with that copper thing and a seru active and then just leaving. See if that works.”

“She’ll appreciate it. Poor thing’s frantic. Also, tried it once already, boss.” Zena said. “I was hoping you’d say good job. I was kinda hoping that the seru not being a retinue member would count. You think I should go looking for a volunteer?”

Gil pursed his lips. He kinda did think that, but sending Zena alone to do a complex operation like that seemed a bit risky.

“We can probably swing it if we do it as a group.” He said, grumbling. “Do it if you can, but don’t get yourself killed.”

“Yes sir.” Zena said, and saluted.

••••••••••

The Land Shrouded in Mist

Mission: Save a non-retinue member from Seru possession by physically carrying them out of the mist and into a safe area.

Reward: 0 credits, Scroll of Wish (5th Edition)

•

Kill Master Zopu of the Biron Monastery

Reward: 1 credit, Gender Bend the Monastic order of Biron, making all members into women.

•

Arc Mission: Eliminate the source of Mist in the Drake Kingdom

Rewards: 10 credits, Binding Refresh, The Dungeon, Recast

••••••••••

“Listen, whore. You’re gonna stop messing around my man. He doesn’t need your skinny ass, and if you try to convince him otherwise…”

Squealer had Candress pinned against a wall, her face inches away from the elf’s. Her pupils were dilated to pinpricks, flicking around wildly. Candress had, indeed, been hovering in Skidmark’s vicinity. It hadn’t been for the reason Squealer seemed to assume, but it seemed unlikely that “your lover’s power itself is as good as a **** to me” would be an acceptable response. If anything, it would probably mark Candress for ****, or worse: Skidmark would find out and decide to leverage access.

She’d checked other people’s powers. Whirligig left some small amount of magic floating in the air, but even that much was rare. The “tinkers” created devices that smelled correct but in such trace amounts as to be irrelevant. The people who changed themselves, like Mush and Boomer, were even worse. Skidmark really was the only person that she could get a proper rush of magic from.

“I won’t.” Candress said, twisting away as best she could. “I wouldn’t try to take him if I could.”

That had apparently been the wrong answer. Squealer clamped down her hands on Candress’s upper arms and slammed her against the wall. She wasn’t superhuman in strength, but she was still a fair bit stronger than Candress.

“What’s that, slut? You saying you’re too good for him?! Prissy ass bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Then she was strapped to a table, with Gil pulling a bowl away from her face. Not her face; she could see her hands were blue. Keilnei’s face.

“Hey,” he said, casually, “I thought I could check on you. It’s the middle of the night so I hope you weren’t in the middle of anything.”

“I was busy being threatened.” Candress said, “The local warlord’s woman believes I’m a threat to her claim.”

“Oh shit,” Gil said, and he quickly tapped the panel a few more times.

A ringing pain in Candress’s forehead greeted her. Her vision fuzzed, but the image of Squealer staggering back with a bloody nose resolved quickly enough. It was replaced almost instantly with Squealer coming for her with a wild haymaker that Candress could dodge easily enough. The tinker had seen combat, but mostly from the inside of one vehicle or another; she wasn’t actually very good in close quarters.

Candress bolted, eventually slipping into the room she had been assigned, which she shared with Whirligig and another female Merchant she knew as Schlick. Not even the merchants were daft enough to assign new female recruits to rooms along with their male peers. Several such arrangements existed voluntarily, but it seemed that most of the powered women that were still single passively banded together to avoid being harassed. The inner circle put in the bare minimum effort to appear as a unified front before the smallfolk, but the Merchants were no more dignified behind closed doors than one might expect.

Schlick didn’t wake up to Candress slamming and locking the door behind her, but did sit up in bed when Squealer started smashing her wrench against the wood to break in.

“Fuck, Candy.” She said in a detached monotone, “Are we gonna lose another door already?”

The woman was quite pale, with an oversized black shirt and a substantial amount of blue inexpertly dyed into her long hair. She wore black jeans, belted onto a frame as slender as any elf. Her eyes held a perpetually distant, almost slack expression that Candress had been informed was evidence that she was “stoned.” Candress knew better; she could half remember elves with a face quite like that. Mostly sole survivors.

“Hopefully not.” She said, though the cheap door did indeed dent inward. “Squealer thinks I’m trying to steal Skidmark. Or that I don’t think Skidmark is worth stealing. Something to that effect.”

“Oh.” Schlick said, yawning. “Are you?”

Schlick’s power, something about flying away when struck, meant that she was in little to no danger here. It didn’t really surprise Candress that she’d be cavalier about the situation.

“Obviously not.” Candress snapped, “To avoid this exact situation, if nothing else.”

Schlick rubbed her eyes and looked at the door, halfway through being beaten down. “Good job.”

Candress saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, a woman waving at her, and prepared to be joined. She didn’t exactly notice when she was possessed, but she suspected that it happened when a sense of irritation and calm settled over her in two equal parts. The wrench smashed into the door again, finally creating a hole, and Candress angled her eyes to look through the door at Squealer.

They locked eyes, and Rose must have done something because Squealer was suddenly taken aback. She stopped swinging her wrench and stared at Candress instead, a flush creeping up her collarbone. Candress in turn suddenly saw Squealer’s generous, barely contained cleavage as something enticing rather than merely present.

“How about this,” Candress said with irritation, “If you sell me your soul, I promise I won’t touch Skidmark. Even if he comes to me, I will refuse to sleep with him. I’ll also let you touch me however you like tonight.”

Candress felt a surge of vindictive glee in the petty vengeance against… herself. That’s what she got for interrupting herself while she was in the middle of something.

“Y- yeah, yeah let’s go, you dumb whore.” Squealer said, “You’ll need to do a real good job.”

The vindictive glee was confusing, as Squealer was certainly pretty enough to be worth a roll in the hay, until the exact moment Rose’s presence vanished. At that point, Candress remembered two things. One, she had very little desire for sex compared to the average human, contrary to Rose’s substantially above average desire. Two, what little interest she did have for carnal pleasure revolved nearly exclusively around men, preferably those named Gil.

She sighed. Squealer looked slightly confused, but committed, as if she couldn’t countenance the idea of backing down. Candress, on the other hand, couldn’t afford to lose Gil a moderately powerful tinker by pulling out of the deal now. The contract was only for her to stay away from Skidmark, since her desire for Candress was mostly magically induced, but there was no way that Squealer would back down now.

••••••••••

Rose straightened her back. She’d dozed off against a wall briefly, but she’d been fairly safe doing so. No one would have been stupid enough to **** her on the borders of Dolltown.

“You ok, Flechette?” Weld called over his shoulder, “You spaced out there for a few moments.”

The leader of the Brockton Bay wards was a large young man in a simple suit, reminiscent of a jersey and cargo shorts. He needed no special markers of status, for his flesh was made of steel covered in a thin, dark layer of impurities. The metal that made up his face flowed and contorted naturally as he smiled gently at her.

“Lily, you’ve been seriously out of it recently.” He said, “Basically ever since I got to Brockton.”

“Yeah, well, shouldn’t I be?” Flechette said, “Also, names.”

“Sorry Flechette.” Weld said with a sigh. “You know you can talk to me, right? Not just as your team leader. If this is personal drama, I’d be absolutely thrilled to hear about it for my own peace of mind.”

Of everyone in Brockton Bay, the original Lily had known Weld longest. His former post and hers had been sister teams, regularly meeting up for socialization and joint training. Objectively he deserved an explanation more than most involved in the PRT. Such a shame Rose had no such explanation to give. No true ones, in any event.

“I’m changing teams.” Flechette said, “I want to do more than the Wards allow. Is that so strange?”

“It’s reckless, at best.” Weld said seriously. “New Wave are on the back foot and barely functional right now. It’s crazy they are even entertaining your application, but we both know that if you’re joining up with them it’s because you want to run wild with a team that can’t keep track of you.”

Rose looked down at a thick white line painted along the road, the border into dolltown. She weaved her feet as she walked, balancing easily along the edge of the line.

“I’m an adult.” Rose said, bitterly. “I know my limits better than some PRT procedure. Even better than you do, as hard as you try.”

“Those procedures are to protect us.” Weld said, “Not just from the villains. From ourselves.”

This argument continued until a voice called out to them sheepishly from down a dark street.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Lily looked up and smiled at her friend, a woman in some manner of overdesigned dress she’d made herself. Parian amused Rose, as she’d chosen to dress herself like the kind of lady in Barovia who never did anything of note the very moment she’d decided to secure territory. Lace gloves, expansive skirts, and puffy sleeves abound, making absolutely no gestures towards the overt sexuality so common among Capes. Her boots were relatively practical, fit for riding, but the mask and golden wig she wore went firmly in the opposite direction.

It was not as if she needed to be exceptionally practical, for she lounged upon the back of a patchwork bear the size of a compact car. Dozens of strips of fabric from torn shirts and window curtains wove together into a powerfully built creature that looked nowhere near as deadly as it was. A dozen smaller creatures resembling stuffed toys formed a pack around the bear, each at least as large as Blackpaw and each made of colorful swatches of fabric woven together.

Lily was still uncertain if Parian controlled the beasts like a puppet master, commanded them in a manner similar to Skitter, or if they obeyed commands autonomously. Her friend was terribly coy with outsiders about her capabilities, even with Lily, but she knew for a fact that a handful of these creatures had managed to check even Leviathan’s **** for several seconds.

“No, no it’s fine.” Lily said, “It’s just a new argument that’ll probably become an old argument eventually. I applied to join New Wave, and they’ve invited me to an interview in a few days. Weld here thinks I’m just doing it because I want to go rogue.”

Flechette and Parian exchanged a meaningful look. When Flechette had been only Lily, there had been conversations. They’d started by trying to get Parian to join the Wards or PRT, but that had largely been torpedoed when the PRT classified Parian as unfriendly for policing the borders of her neighborhood, allowing in no outsiders. By the time Rose entered the picture, Lily had already started dancing around the idea of coming out to live with Parian. Mostly as a joke, or a romantic dream. Rose felt a certain fondness for the woman beneath the porcelain mask, but Lily had been quietly besotted with Sabah.

“I don’t mean to sound greedy, but…”

Weld held up a hand, cutting off the rogue cape.

“The supplies Flechette has been securing for your people have already been earmarked for the next two months.” He said, “I’ll make sure they get to you for at least that long. Supply lines should be in much better shape by then.”

“New Wave is working on getting back into the action.” Rose said, “No one blames them for being on the back foot, but if we can get another team out here full time that should help a lot.”

Parian let out a sniff, implying that she could, would, and did blame a small, rich, suburban family for neglecting their duties when needed most. Nearly every person in Brockton Bay had lost people, and somehow the Pure and that bug girl were doing more to keep people safe than one of the super teams. She was too soft spoken to say anything aloud, but Lily was hyper aware of Sabah’s minor quirks.

“If I can get permission, I’ll still come by and check the border here.” Flechette said, “I don’t think it’ll be a problem unless there are jurisdiction issues.”

She glanced at Weld, who shrugged. He could make requests, but the lines on the map were entirely out of his hands.

••••••••••

Prudence Herren rode a bike reasonably well. That was a bit of a surprise, given that she’d never done so in this world. So many other skills were entirely absent when she tried to call upon them, but apparently the entities who ruled her existence felt that bicycles were an acceptable means of conveyance for her to remember.

Othala would never be so bold as to travel this deep into Pure territory, oh no. An anonymous pretty white woman, on the other hand, was protected by an implied threat in this territory. A man who chose to **** such a woman may find himself splattered across the pavement from on high. Purity was a blunt instrument, erratic, and no better than Hookwolf in several ways, but she saw herself as a guardian. That helped.

Othala parked her bike in front of a very specific apartment, locking it up with a chain that might preserve her ride home as long as she didn’t take too long. She strolled in, nodding and smiling at the harried doorman. The cotton pad she kept over her missing eye drew some attention, but not as much as her eyepatch would have. One implied that she was recently injured, perhaps during or after Leviathan, while the other showed her to have adapted to the loss suspiciously well.

She made her way up the stairs, remembering her conversation with Victor. He’d been ****, but easy enough to persuade.

“You know Hookwolf is a brute, and unfortunately the Chosen just aren’t going to follow you blindly. This whole organization is going to fall apart. We need to salvage what we can, and I think I can make that happen.”

That had been the easy part. Convincing him that they could found a new splinter faction and distance themselves from the more brutal aspects of the Chosen? Also not too difficult. With Stormtiger dead and Menja gone, Hookwolf only really had Cricket backing him. Rune, also known as Prudence’s cousin Tammi, would definitely go for a rebranding as some kind of feudal guardians working with the Pure.

Of course, that meant convincing the Pure, and finding a better figurehead than Purity to point at for the more militant elements of the Chosen. She was powerful, but she was erratic and everyone knew she’d hated Kaiser. Krieg would have been ideal, a nice balance of professional and warleader, but he’d run off to Europe after Leviathan.

Othala knocked on a very specific door, and smiled at the peephole as pleasantly as she could. Someone walked up to the door and looked through, then backed away. A young woman’s voice called “who is it?” and Othala smirked at the loud “shhh” she could just barely hear from just on the other side of the door.

“I’m only here to talk.” She called through the door, “I’m here to discuss peace terms.”

She waited, estimating about thirty seconds before she’d get a response. It was thirty five. The door opened just a crack and a 16 year old boy peeked out. He was a bit chubby, but had broad shoulders and a face that could be handsome if he didn’t look so defeated. Behind him, close enough to see, was an acne ridden young lady with mousy brown hair and hazel eyes. Othala suspected that she was 18, much like Othala herself, Rune, and damn near every female cape in the city. She also suspected, with a shudder, that she knew why.

“What do you want?” Theo Anders, son and heir apparent of Kaiser, said. “If you’re here to speak to Kaden, she’s out getting groceries.”

“Yeah, you can wait there if you’re so **** to talk to her,” added Aster Anders, Theo’s half sister and the daughter of Purity.

Either one of them would make an excellent figurehead if they developed powers, and Othala knew enough about this kind of story and this kind of magic to know that one of them would eventually. It was practically guaranteed.

“I’d actually like to speak with you two.” Othala said, “I think Kaden might react poorly to my presence in any event, so it seems best to discuss my idea with people a bit more stable. I swear not to try anything. My power requires that I have a friend to use it on in any event. I’m no threat.”