1.2
Armsmaster
"I'm beginning to reconsider the certainty of Faultline's involvement with this scenario." I mused aloud, my statement punctuated by the staccato cracks of repeated small arms fire echoing through the stairwell. I half turned to check on Miss Militia's status behind me. She was standing at the edge of the landing above the flight of stairs we'd just ascended in our haste to escape from the nightmarish child, and was aiming her weapon down towards the door.
With a series of shrill screams, three translucent humanoid figures passed straight through the door, spotted us standing on the landing above them and immediately threw themselves up the stairs in a violent rush. Without missing a beat, Miss Militia fired three more times in quick succession and without further fanfare, each of the ghostly specters dispersed in a faint puff of smoke.
For a few moments we stood in silence as Miss Militia kept the large handgun she'd switched to up and ready for additional assailants. I glanced to my profiling software for an update on her stress levels. They were still fairly high, but had noticeably decreased since before our encounter with the "I'm sorry" girl. My guess was that having an enemy she could actually focus on and fight served as a sort of stress reliever for the patriotic heroine. It was fortunate than, that there had been no further signs of the little walking terror chasing us and instead we were besieged by small manageable waves of odd screaming ghosts. They at least disappeared when shot.
After nearly three full minutes of silence and no signs of additional attacks, Miss Militia half turned her head to give me her attention.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" With a sigh, I reflexively rubbed the forehead of my visor before gesturing to the wall opposite the stairs with my halberd.
"All of this is simply too far outside of the MO of Faultline's group. Even disregarding the array of new and potent powers, Faultline always went to great lengths to ensure her people were seen as mercenaries, not murderers or violent sociopaths."
Behind me on the landing was the first confirmed casualty of this bizarre and unsettling incident. Leaning up against the wall was a blackened and still smoldering skeleton. Around it, the walls and floor were covered in a soup of blood and other organic matter. It gave the impression that our victim had been caught in some sort of explosion capable of liquefying flesh but leaving the skeleton itself more or less intact. Additionally, scrawled across the blood stained walls, were a number of hastily written words that seemed to be accusations pointed at the corpse.
"Murderer. Rapist. Terrorist. Psychopath. Unforgiveable. Irredeemable."
"Do you think it's some sort of anti-hero vigilantism?" Dragon asked, observing the scene through the sensors in my suit. "Winslow is known to be rife with gang members and other, erm, undesirables." I frowned, considering the connotations.
"Dragon, how much of the student body has been accounted for so far?" I questioned, attempting to sort through the possible motivations of our suspect. Violent vigilantism was certainly not unheard of, but it was also possible that this was a case of more deliberate maliciousness using vigilantism as an excuse or cover. After a brief pause, Dragon replied.
"Well, thanks to the efforts of Assault, Battery, Velocity, and the PRT troopers on-site, most of the incapacitated individuals in the outer section of the school have been evacuated. If my numbers are correct, just over eighty percent of the student body has been accounted for, while only sixty percent of the faculty and staff have been located."
"Outer section?" Miss Militia asked. "Does this have to do with the Shaker effect we're seeing?"
"Exactly." Dragon confirmed before pulling two still images up in the center of my interface. With a few precise finger twitches, I activated a small projector in the left shoulder of my suit and turned to a relatively clean section of wall. The pictures were projected onto the surface for Miss Militia's benefit. "Take a close look at these two pictures. The one on the left is from the area just inside the school. Notice how clean it is, relatively speaking, compared to the second image. That one's from the section of hallway the two of you entered after passing through that strange, out of place door. The state of things appears to be much more worn down and dirty. Doors and windows are broken, the floor is littered with glass and debris, and there are signs of recent human presence and injury. Now, take a look at the stairwell you're currently in."
With a grimace, I did just that. Even without the grisly scene of the corpse, the pattern Dragon was pointing out was plain to see. While the hallway we'd just passed through had certainly seen better days, it's general state of disrepair could still easily be justified as the aftermath of a distressing incident involving a large number of people. Things had been broken and dirtied, but not more than could be done in a single frenzied incident. This stairwell on the other hand looked as though it belonged to a building that had been abandoned for years.
Everywhere I looked I saw the signs of weather and time. Paint was peeling, there were more tiles that were broken than whole, the metal railings were covered with a thick layer of rust, and a black coating of grime and mold dusted every surface. If the previous hallway were to be called damaged, this stairwell would be dilapidated.
"I can't say with certainty," Dragon began, her voice holding a tone of hesitance. "But I believe this situation bears the hallmarks of a newly triggered, and quite powerful Shaker, possibly a Shaker/Master. Now, before you ask questions, please hear me out.
"There are a number of records that could be viewed as a precedent for this kind of thing. All of the cases in question involved a powerful Shaker and the aftermath of their trigger events. From the point at which the Shaker triggered, a zone with fairly clearly delineated sections or a measurable gradient was documented radiating outwards. The most severe distortions appeared in the area directly around the new trigger, and they became successively less pronounced further away from the epicenter.
"In this case, we can't clearly see the evidence of the Shaker effect from outside of the school because of the obvious spatial warping that's occurring. However, within the boundaries of the school building, there are fairly obvious divisions between the condition of one section versus another."
"Now, I understand and agree with the reasoning behind the possibility of a newly triggered Shaker," Miss Militia cut in, rubbing her eyes wearily. "But when you're referring to a Master, you mean what we've been calling the 'Fear Aura,' right? Why do you think that's also the Shaker and not another individual?"
"I do still think it's possible that the 'Fear Aura' is a side effect of the Shaker power." I posited. "Some sort of sound or light wavelength that's on the borderline of human perception or some sort of electromagnetic radiation that the human body interprets strangely."
"Actually, I do have some evidence that served as the basis of that assumption." Dragon announced, sounding sheepish. "I hadn't brought it up before because, well, I found it while snooping around in your self-monitoring systems." I raised an eyebrow as Dragon's speech became rushed. "It's just that, you weren't exhibiting the same signs for the effects of the 'Fear Aura' as everyone else and I got a bit worried, so I wanted to make sure everything was alright and that you hadn't missed anything so you could focus on the investigation, but I was embarrassed about snooping and worried that you might get mad so-"
"Dragon," I cut her tirade off. "I gave you access to my suit's systems and you even helped me write a portion of the software. Why would I be angry that you were supporting me in the field? Despite my best efforts, I can't account for every error and discrepancy in my system, and I'm sure there will be things that I miss in the future. It relieves me to have a Tinker as capable and trustworthy as yourself double checking my work and supporting me while my attention is elsewhere."
There, that was a suitably placating statement. I often struggled in addressing social issues, especially when I couldn't understand the sequence of logic that led to the problem; but complimenting a colleague's work ethic and sincerely expressing confidence tended to be largely successful. Thankfully, it seemed to work.
"Oh, well, I'm glad you feel that way." She said, sounding relieved as her avatar smiled and seemed to turn away from me. "Yes, anyway, the evidence I mentioned comes from the monitoring systems of the prototype psionic inhibitors you installed in your suit's helmet."
"Ah yes, the psychic and empathic shielding suite. I'd hoped that they might serve some defense against the Simurgh or other Masters and Thinkers, but I haven't had much chance to test them yet, outside of some time with Gallant."
"Exactly," Dragon confirmed as I pulled the data logs from those systems up onto my HUD. "Though we don't know the true nature of the power displayed yet, I believe this data might be relevant." Acting quickly, I ran a simple program to compile the data into an easily readable chart as I searched for any pattern in the readouts. There did appear to be a significant amount of activity with the system, as evidenced by an elevated baseline readout littered with various spikes of feedback: one section having maxed out the defensive suite's capacity and stressed it to the point of slight damage to some of the more delicate components.
Dragon's avatar turned as though she were looking at the data on my HUD, before glancing back to me and nodding her head towards the growing data plot. "May I?" She asked.
"Go ahead." I confirmed, closing out the two hallway pictures and switching the projector to display the plot.
Quickly, the format of the graph began to change. It took on a facade that was much simpler for a non-tinker individual to make sense of. The chaotic display of data points was simplified to a barebones line graph: a Y axis measuring the feedback from the psionic inhibiting systems, and an X axis displaying that feedback over time. Displayed in this way, the gradual increase in the baseline feedback of the system was clear to see. As Dragon began adding time/event markers to the data, I had an unsettling realization.
"Dragon, if the shielding suite is working correctly, than according to this data, the ambient psionic activity began to drastically increase well before I even entered the quarantine zone." I thought back, considering where I had been when the sudden rise in activity began. "At that time I was... hell, I was on my motorcycle patrolling around the boardwalk at the coast. That's a potential range of miles!"
"That's correct." Dragon stated, her avatar sporting a concerned grimace. A chill ran down my spine and I felt as though my blood were going cold.
"Dragon, the energy dampening field isn't interfering with your signal is it?" Dragon hummed thoughtfully.
"It is, but mainly at the outer wall of the school building. I was able to get around it relatively easily by relaying the signal through a few drones all positioned in a doorway."
"Good. Forward a warning message to the Director. Tell her we have an unknown parahuman, possibly a new trigger, with an unknown ability, possibly a Shaker/Master or some kind of Trump, with a range that could possibly reach across a good section of the city, and relay to her an account of our observations and encounters within the school thus far. This could be an A class threat waiting to happen. I'd recommend patrols of PRT troopers equipped for riot control positioned radially from the quarantine zone. Have them keep an eye on the public and themselves, watching for any signs of psychological change: full Master/Stranger protocols. I'd also advise sending a warning to the local schools, advising them to be prepared to close early and have the Wards on standby."
"Understood, I'm contacting her now." Dragon confirmed as I continued to review how the spikes in psionic activity coincided with our activity within the school.
"I hate unknowns." Miss Militia groused sourly.
As I parsed through the data, I supplemented it by pulling stills from my visor's camera feed and data from my behavior profiling systems and matching them to the times of the spikes in psionic activity. The first set of possible correlations I found were connected to spikes once Miss Militia and I had entered the school. Several aligned exactly to unprovoked startles and increases in stress levels from Miss Militia: the most notable being when she screamed and then asked me if I had seen a girl in the doorway. After that, there were several more smaller spikes in activity, before the feedback from the defensive systems suddenly maxed out and several components nearly went critical.
I pulled up a still frame of the demonic seeming child framed by blazing flames and added it to that section of the graph. I felt another chill run through me at the sight of her and Miss Militia noticeably flinched away from the projected image.
"God, I was hoping that was a hallucination." She muttered, loudly enough for me to hear even without my suit's audio enhancements. An alert from my behavior profiling suite alerted me to another shift in her body language indicating high stress related to fear. I decided to try giving her some words of encouragement.
"You reacted impressively quickly and competently at the time of the event, regardless of the effectiveness of your response. Had it not been for Dragon's prompting, I may not have come to my senses in time. Your composure was admirable." Miss Militia went very still before visibly forcing her muscles to relax.
"Admirable huh?" She asked with a bitter chuckle. "I had to learn how to act in the face of paralyzing terror a long time ago. I've never thought there was anything admirable about it."
Another alert from my profiling software led me to determine that the best way to respond to that statement was not to respond at all.
Switching mental gears, I turned my attention back to Dragon.
"Dragon, when you've finished delivering your warning to the Director, I'd like you to relay updated procedures to the other responding heroes and PRT agents. We're going to start assigning labels to the zones of delineated Shaker activity. The outermost area of the school will be zone one, the secondary area zone two, etc: proceeding from there at your discretion. For the time being I'd like to keep PRT troopers limited to zone one where they can maintain an interior perimeter and intercept anyone or anything leaving the higher level zones. Protectorate heroes are cleared to proceed into zone two and beyond at their own discretion, but they should be advised to continue inwards with extreme caution and to leave should they have even the slightest suspicion of being emotionally compromised. What's the current status of Assault, Battery, and Velocity?"
There was a delay as Dragon finished what she was currently working on and likely caught up with her audio logs.
"Velocity found a second entrance into zone two and attempted to perform high speed reconnaissance. However, he reported an increased effect of psychological disturbances when moving at higher speeds and was forced to pull out of the quarantine zone." The expression of her avatar shifted into an unhappy grimace. "Assault and Battery also attempted a foray into zone two and were accosted by the same phantasms that you and Miss Militia are now familiar with. Assault attempted to engage, but as soon as he made bodily contact with the phantasm, it inflicted a disproportionately large amount of physical harm on him for the contact made and Battery was forced to evacuate him from the area."
"We're on our own then." Tapping out a rhythm on the haft of my halberd, I attempted to sort out my thoughts and come up with a plan for proceeding forwards.
"My light defensive suit will be arriving in about five minutes Colin, and behind that one I've launched four more combat ready suits, just in case this does turn into a full blown A class. If you'd like to pull back for now, I can proceed deeper into the school with mobile armaments once they've arrived."
Before I could give Dragon a response, Miss Militia violently flinched, her pistol blurring into green and black energy before coalescing into the form of a shotgun, which she promptly swung up to point overhead. Her head frantically jerked back and forth, searching for some threat I couldn't see. Immediately, I deactivated my projector and pulled up a live data feed from my psionic inhibitor suite, confirming that there was indeed a current spike in activity.
"What? What is it?" I demanded, briefly contemplating deactivating the defensive measures so that I could observe the phenomenon, but deciding against it. My input as an unaffected and thus unbiased observer was too important.
"It's..." Miss Militia began before trailing off. "It sounds like a little girl. Crying. She's saying something but I can't make it out."
"Try. This could be important." I demanded. Miss Militia's eyes flashed to me and an alert from my profiling software flashed on my HUD indicating annoyance and aggression. My jaw clenched and I waited for her response. Perhaps I was being a bit indelicate, but what we needed the most in this scenario was information. Eventually Miss Militia closed her eyes and turned away from me, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again, sounding much calmer.
"It sounds like an apology of sorts. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't want this. I didn't mean this. It's not my fault. It's not me.' Something like that. She sounds distressed."
"Maybe," Dragon began before pausing and starting again. "Do you think she, or whoever, could have heard what I said about this being a possible A class threat? Maybe some sort of Thinker power that lets the Shaker observe what's going on in the affected area?"
"We'll try communicating." I stated, before turning my head up to shout at nothing. "If you can hear me, stop using your power and surrender yourself to us at once! This situation will only get worse if you-"
"Colin!" Dragon interrupted me, the eyebrows of her avatar knitting together. "I really don't think that particular approach is going to help, especially if they've just suffered their trigger event." I frowned.
"You shouldn't use my name if they truly can remotely observe our communications." Dragon sighed, her avatar's head shaking back and forth.
"Maybe you could try a more compassionate approach, Armsmaster." She amended. My profiling software pinged another alert marking Dragon as annoyed: odd, since it wasn't currently configured to monitor her communications. I sighed and tried again.
"If possible, we'd like to help both yourself and the remainder of the people still trapped within the school, but we can't do that if you don't work with us. Help us help you." Reaching out to the perpetrator as one human to another was a well documented crisis negotiating strategy. It should be closer to what Dragon thought would work best.
After a few moments of silence, I turned to Miss Militia.
"Anything?" I asked, looking to the data feed from my psionic inhibitor suite and noticing that the spike of activity had dropped off.
"No." Miss Militia announced with a sigh. "It's quiet again."
"Inconclusive then." I mused. "To be safe, try to avoid speaking sensitive information aloud when possible, but if it can't be avoided, proper operational communication takes precedence to secrecy at this point." I nodded to myself and met Miss Militia's eyes. "Priority number one at the moment is locating and securing the parahuman or parahumans responsible for this incident. I elect to proceeding with our search and Dragon can rendezvous with us when her additional equipment arrives. However, Miss Militia, if you believe your mental state is significantly hampered you should retreat for now and be screened for Master influence." She shook her head to the negative.
"No, this situation is time sensitive. There are still civilians trapped within the building and it's only a matter of time before the gangs start poking around, wondering what's happened to their younger recruits. Also, if getting close to those ghosts is hazardous it's safer for me to stay with you to take them out at range. Just..." Miss Militia paused and with a sigh rubbed at her eyes. "I'm really on edge, worse than I've been since I adapted to life here in America, so I'd appreciate it if you could make an effort to act with that in mind."
"Understood." I said in affirmation. "I'll attempt to avoid acting in excess so as not to startle or erroneously alert you." She sighed much more heavily this time and even Dragon echoed her expression.
"I guess that'll have to do."
Impromptu information review and strategy session over, we moved to continue our advance deeper into the potential-Shaker's territory. The general state of erosion and decay was ubiquitous throughout the stairwell and it wasn't long before we found ascending further unfeasible. Fortunately, the doorway on the landing we'd come to at the blocked section of stairs did not appear to be impassable. As we opened it and stepped back into the halls of the school building, it felt as though we'd crossed from purgatory back into the realm of the living.
This new section of hallway was pristine: possessing a level of cleanliness and polish I didn't think Winslow could have possessed even at the time of its construction. So jarring was the change that as we stepped out of the stairwell, Miss Militia audibly gasped.
"It's gone!" She exclaimed, her head jerking around, likely to take in the drastic change in condition.
"Yes," I agreed. "The decay is gone, but it seems likely that this high a level of quality is also unnatural."
"No, not that." She claimed, just as another notice from my profiling software came to my attention. It noted that her level of distress had fallen sharply and was still in decline. "The fear aura, it's just gone! It feels like stepping out of a smoke filled building into fresh air."
I frowned. Yes, the absence of the 'Fear Aura' was certainly good for Miss Militia's mental state, but such a drastic and sudden change could not have been without cause. Why was the 'Fear Aura' not affecting this area when it was prevalent well beyond the boundaries of the school building? There must be a reason and it was very likely that that reason was not good news for us.
As though responding to my concerns, a childlike giggle echoed through the hallway from a point somewhere to our right. Miss Militia and I snapped to readiness, whirling to face the source of the sound, and as my eyes focused on the length of the hallway, a surge of adrenaline set my heart to hammering.
Standing not fifty feet from us in the center of the hallway was the same hellish girl who had sought to fry me to a blackened crisp a short time ago.
I reacted on instinct, whirling my halberd up to a ready stance between us and taking a cautionary step back, wary of an attack. Miss Militia too was ready for conflict, dropping to one knee and shouldering her weapon, which had changed again from a shotgun into some sort of complex looking assault rifle.
"Wait!" Dragon called out to us over the coms. "Look closely. She's different and she doesn't appear to be acting aggressively."
Forcing a more open mindset through the adrenaline haze, I did as Dragon suggested and studied our adversary more closely. Indeed, without the startled appraisal of split-second recognition, the difference between the child standing before us and her murderous lookalike was quite clear. Though the outfit of short black overalls and a white shirt was the same, the shirt was an immaculately bleached white, instead of the ugly bloodstained red it had been previously. Her long curly hair was clean and well groomed, falling in waves behind her small form, and the broken glasses that had hung from one ear before sat pristinely on her face. In truth, the only clear sign that the little girl smiling playfully at us was anything but your average child, was the sickly yellow glow of her eyes.
"Yay, guests!" She exclaimed animatedly, startling me out of my silent mental comparison of her with her demonically red-eyed twin. "You're just in time for the tea party too! Oh, Ems is going to be so excited! Real live heroes are here for our party!" She bounced up and down in place, clapping her innocent-seeming little hands together.
It didn't fool me for a second.
"Identify yourself!" I called out, my voice echoing through the empty hallway. The girl ignored me in favor of continuing her obvious charade.
"I hope they like the tea! I wasn't expecting any guests, especially not famous heroes to come. They probably get to drink all sorts of fancy tinkertech stuff. I'm so nervous!" Twirling in place, she skipped off down the hall, taking care only to step on the dark tiles of the floor. After travelling in that fashion for a short distance, she turned and disappeared into an open door way. After a short pause she leaned back out, peering down at us as her eyes cast a yellow tinted gloom on the wall next to her. Reaching an arm out, she beckoned us forwards with a little wave before disappearing back into the room.
Miss Militia and I exchanged a look.
"It's a trap." I said.
"What choice do we have?" She countered.
"If you'd just wait a few more minutes my combat ready suit will arrive." Dragon offered, attempting to dissuade us from pressing onwards.
"Be careful and stay behind me." I told Miss Militia, accompanied by Dragon's resigned sigh. "My suit should offer me some protection no matter what happens but you are rather exposed."
"Right." She confirmed, falling into file behind me.
I was about to take the first step forwards when I paused, glancing down at the floor. After a moment of deliberation, I made a long step onto a dark tile, carefully avoiding the white ones surrounding it. It didn't hurt to be cautious.
The suspect classroom was only three doors away and luckily our short journey passed without incident. Reaching the open door, I signaled for Miss Militia to hold her position and carefully peered around the door frame.
The inside of the classroom had been heavily modified, appearing closer to a scene out of a children's story book than a place of learning. All around, the various materials that you could expect to find forming the construction and apparel of any classroom had been twisted and deformed: supernaturally sculpted into the likeness of flowers, bushes, small trees, and even a deer or two. The various themed decorations were probably intended to give the room the atmosphere of a fairytale or some other fanciful story, but instead the unmoving and oddly patterned statues only managed to seem ominous and unsettling in the unnatural environment.
In the center of the room a space had been cleared. In it sat a table that appeared to have been made from several other pieces of furniture fused together in the same manner that the various decorations had been created, if the blotchy segmented colors and textures were anything to judge by. Two chairs sat pushed up to the table and sitting in one was an objectively attractive teenage girl with red hair. With the way she was hunched forward, shaking so badly that her chair rattled on the ground, I didn't even need my profiling software to realize that she was absolutely terrified.
The little yellow eyed child was standing off in a corner of the room, happily humming and fiddling around with a teapot that also seemed to have been twisted from some other material. Not seeing any obvious traps I stepped fully into the doorway, motioning for Miss Militia to follow behind me cautiously. As I crossed the threshold she half turned, craning her neck to beam at me with an encouraging smile. All I could focus on was the unnaturalness of her eyes.
"You can both just have a seat." She announced with a bubbly tone. In response, two chairs suddenly flung themselves from the nearby wall, their metal legs screeching across the tile floor before they came to a stop next to the table: some sort of telekinesis most likely. With her free hand, she pointed at the terrified redhead. "That's Emma. I call her Ems." She announced with a giggle that sent my spine crawling. Emma appeared to share my unease, as she hugged herself more tightly and hunched so far forwards that her face nearly touched the table. "You guys can get to know each other while I finish the tea. She's always been super into heroes so I'm sure talking to you will make her day!"
It was with an epiphany of sudden insight that I realized I knew who this redhead was. Emma Barnes was a classmate of Sophia Hess, our missing Ward: Shadowstalker. I knew her name and description only because I had read the reports Sophia's disciplinary case worker gave to me about her progress in school. She'd named Emma as a close friend, which was odd but encouraging for someone with antisocial tendencies like Sophia. Her caseworker had viewed their friendship as a reassuring sign of improvement in Sophia's attitude. I had yet to see that improvement reflected in her interactions with the other Wards, but change didn't happen overnight.
I decided to take this opportunity to subtly fish for information.
"Who are you and why are you here? Are there any other students or staff around?"
Emma's choked sob did little to reassure me.
"Ah! I'm sorry!" The yellow eyed girl exclaimed, whirling around with her teapot and hurrying over to set it on the table. "My mom always said it was rude not to introduce yourself. My name's Taylor!"
"Running a search now." Dragon announced at a barely audible volume. Meanwhile, the girl now identified as Taylor hopped up into a chair, kitty-corner to Emma and opposite to the two chairs presented for Miss Militia and myself.
"I haven't seen anybody else." She announced with an exaggerated shrug, before tilting her head at us expectantly. "Aren't 'cha gonna sit down?" I frowned as I consulted my profiling software. One of its main functions was to serve as a nearly infallible lie detector, but for some reason it seemed to be having trouble getting a read on the unsettling child in front of me. Perhaps additional questions would help it self-adjust.
"Why are you here?" I tried instead. She blinked at me owlishly.
"For our tea party, why else?" As the software fed me nothing but gibberish, I turned to Miss Militia in frustration. She offered me a slight shrug before moving to step around me, her power once again taking the form of a shotgun. She approached the table slowly, adopting a guise of confident ease that belied the tense set of her muscles.
"Hello Taylor, Emma, I'm Miss Militia." Emma didn't react, but Taylor shouted a happy exclamation and clapped her hands excitedly. "I'd love to join your tea party, but Armsmaster and I are busy with a very important assignment at the moment." Taylor's face took on a crestfallen expression that was spoiled by the sickly yellow tint her eyes cast on the lenses of her glasses. Miss Militia put her finger to her lips and made a show of thinking. "I'll tell you what though, we can stay for a little while if you and Emma will help us out by answering a few questions. It just might help us get to the bottom of the case we're working on. You'd be honorary heroes!"
Taylor gasped and turned to excitedly pull at Emma's sleeve. The redhead noticeably flinched away at her touch, but didn't pull her sleeve from the small girl's grip.
"Do you hear that Ems? We could be heroes! Isn't that great?" Emma's head jerked partway up. Briefly, she made eye contact with Miss Militia and then myself before lowering her gaze back to the table and frantically nodding. For a moment, Miss Militia regarded the redhead with an appraising gaze before turning back to Taylor and offering her most obvious masked smile.
"Then if that's okay?" The masked heroine asked to clarify. Taylor offered her an enthusiastic nod and with an overly careful motion, Miss Militia sat herself in the chair closest to Emma. She glanced briefly over her shoulder at me.
"Armsmaster?" With a poorly concealed grimace, I made my way over to stand next to her chair. Even if this wasn't a hostile environment where I needed to be ready for combat, most chairs would struggle to support the weight of my powersuit making sitting unfeasible. I rested the butt of my halberd on the ground next to me and crossed my left arm over my chest. Miss Militia was better at social interactions than I would ever be, even with the help of my software. It would be best to allow her to handle this for now.
"Well, where should we begin." Miss Militia started, but stopped as Taylor hopped up to stand on her chair and lift her teapot. At the same time, the material of the table began to swirl and distort. Four vaguely teacup like shapes formed themselves out of the hodgepodge of materials, one set in front of each of us. Happily humming, Taylor leaned over to pour us each a glass. I had a moment to wonder if there was anything actually in the pot, before it was tipped over a cup and confirmed to be completely empty.
After making a show of filling each cup, Taylor set the pot down in the middle of the table and hopped back down to sit in her chair, before flashing us an encouraging grin.
"Tell me how it is! This is my favorite Tea; it's the same kind mom always used to drink at night." Miss Militia hesitantly reached out to take her cup, while Emma and myself refrained. She seemed to fix the empty cup with a suspicious reluctance before bringing it slowly to her nose for a few experimental sniffs. After another moment of deliberation, she brought the cup to her lips and made a show of taking a small sip through the scarf that covered the lower half of her face. With a gasp, she set the cup back down on the table and brought her free hand to her mouth in surprise.
"This is delicious!" She exclaimed with a surprised sincerity that was confirmed by my lie detector. I frowned, as Taylor happily bounced in her chair.
"I know! It's always been my favorite. Ems never really liked tea but if she tries this I'm sure even she'll be amazed!" Miss Militia raised the cup to her lips again and took another experimental sip. Blinking in wonderment, she turned to face me.
"Armsmaster, you should try this. It really is deli- cious." Her excited exclamation trailed off into hesitance as she noticed my deepening frown. "What's wrong?"
"You honestly believe that." I announced, not asked. My lie detector was almost never wrong. When Miss Militia said the "tea" was delicious, she meant it as a true statement of opinion, not as a feigned exclamation to play along with a small girl's game.
"What?" She asked, her eyebrows creasing together in confusion. "What do you-"
"There's nothing in the cup." I cut her off. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped before the words came out. For a few moments, she merely studied my expression, before going suddenly tense. Her eyes ghosted back to the cup, regarding it with a new found caution.
"Hmmmmm?" The flat, drawling hum sent a shiver of apprehension through me. My eyes snapped up to the small girl across from me and my entire body locked up. Gone was the seemingly bubbly and excited little girl. Her smile had been replaced by a lazy frown as she tilted her head to the side, fixing me with her judging sulfurous eyes. "How rude, to call my tea 'nothing.' You haven't even tried it. You might be surprised."
My mouth felt like sandpaper when I opened it to respond.
"There is no-" My denial was cut short as a lance of pain shot through my head. Reflexively, my eyes slammed shut and my free hand shot to the side of my head.
"Oh god." Dragon whispered through my helmet. Fighting through the already fading pain, I peeled an eye open. My sight was met by a litany of errors flashing across my HUD. It took only a glance to realize what had happened. The entirety of my psionic inhibiting technology had just been fried: overwhelmed by a single concentrated pulse of energy. After another few moments, the pain vanished as quickly as it had come. I fully opened my eyes, cleared my HUD so that I could see, and felt my breath hitch in my throat.
The teacup on the table in front of me was full: filled to the brim with a dark steaming liquid. I could even smell it, the rich herby fragrance enough to entice even the most tepid tea drinkers to try a sip.
Slowly, I peeled my eyes away from the cup to find Taylor. She was smiling again, but it was not a nice smile. It was one that I was intimately familiar with, able to recognize it in spite of my shortcomings with social cues, as though it had been torn directly from my memories. It was a smile of condescension and derision: one that could pick me apart and tell me exactly how little I was worth.
And then the moment passed and the bubbly innocent seeming girl had appeared again.
"You're silly Armsmaster." She declared happily. "I thought you'd be all serious and super cool, but you kinda bumble around a bit don't 'cha?"
Clenching my teeth, I fought to keep my body from shaking. I was compromised now as well, vulnerable to the same hallucinatory affects that Miss Militia and others had reported. That was something of a setback, however it seemed fairly safe to assume that the unsettling child in front of us now was the culprit of this volatile incident. Learning that was a step in the right direction and if we could manage to learn more, we may yet diffuse this powder keg without further casualties.
"You agreed to answer some questions." I announced as a reminder to get the conversation back on track.
"You haven't tried my tea yet." Taylor retorted with a childish pout. Miss Militia shot me an uncertain look, unsure of how to continue. With an impatient huff, I scooped up the cup and brought it to my lips. As it was illusory tea, it was unlikely that it would affect me negatively anyway. With one final glance at the girl, I threw my head back and attempted to drain the small cup in a single gulp.
Immediately I was forced to pull the cup away and spew out its contents, as the seemingly steaming hot liquid scalded my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Coughing indignantly, I turned an accusatory eye on the child, who was giggling at my imaginary plight.
"You have to be careful, it's still really hot! You can't just gulp it all down at once."
As I silently fumed to myself, considering how perfectly realistic all of the sensations had been, I turned to Miss Militia for support. Clearing her throat, she turned back to face our suspect.
"Taylor,"
"That's me!" She was interrupted. Miss Militia gave a patient smile.
"We have some questions about what's been happening here around the school. Is there anything you can tell us about that?" Taylor nodded enthusiastically.
"Oh, a whole bunch! I wouldn't have to tell you half of it though, if you kept a teensy bit of a closer eye on your psychopathic Ward."
My thoughts ground to a complete stop. What had she just said?
"I mean, it's not entirely your fault." She continued. "You have your own responsibilities so you couldn't possibly keep a personal eye on every little problem. Instead you delegate such things to other people down the totem pole, and let me tell you, they really dropped the ball on this one."
"I'm sorry Taylor," Miss Militia began, sounding uncertain. "I'm not quite sure what you-"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Taylor interrupted, all childish pretenses vanishing from her facade. "Don't try to deny it. You can't hide anything from me, not anymore. No one can, and I wonder whose fault that is." Emma whimpered and somehow managed to shrink further into herself. "It's really telling that the moment I said the words 'psychopathic Ward' your thoughts made the obvious and entirely correct conclusion. Sophia Hess was an absolute terror on this school and specifically turned my daily life into a living nightmare." She gave a bitter chuckle. "Ironically, that's exactly how the school is now, isn't it?" Miss Militia began to respond, but Taylor simply continued on, speaking over her.
"There were a lot of people, a lot of failures, that came together to make it possible. I submitted a number of complaints of bullying to the teachers and to Principal Blackwell, but they were all ignored. Blackwell didn't want to lose all the money she was taking in from the PRT for supporting a Ward on campus, so the PRT and Protectorate never heard a single word about Sophia's activities. Her case worker, if she can even be called that, barely even gave the most minimal of efforts in looking into Sophia's daily activities, so already the meager checks the PRT put into place had failed."
"Taylor," Miss Militia finally cut in, her voice tense. "Where is Sophia Hess?" Taylor responded with a hysterical laugh, hanging her head until her face rested in one of her palms. For a few moments she simply stared at the surface of the table, shaking her head back and forth in denial of something we couldn't see.
"She was a psychopath you know? A real honest and true psychopath. Her brain was just wired in a different way, probably fucked up by her Trigger. You people didn't know this, but she would sneak out on nights when she didn't have patrols to hunt down criminals: as in, actually hunt criminals. She killed two people, and tried to kill at least sixteen more. The kicker is that she didn't give a shit. That's how far gone she was: not a single shred of remorse. In her eyes, what she was doing was perfectly acceptable and justified. There's no rehabilitating that kind of crazy, not without actually physically changing the composition of their brains."
"She's dead." I cut into her tirade solemnly. Taylor didn't respond, still staring at a spot on the table. "You killed her."
"I didn't!" She snapped, glowing eyes shooting up to meet mine through my visor as they seemed to burn more brightly. "It wasn't me, well... not this me, okay? I've been trying to control things, keep all of this from getting out of hand. I twisted the school to keep her-" she abruptly cut off, blowing out a long shuddering breath. "To keep us from getting out, but there's only so much I can do!" Miss Militia held up a placating hand.
"Slow down Taylor, you're not making any sense. What do you mean 'her' and 'us'? Who are you talking about?"
"The red Taylor." Emma spoke for the first time in a hoarse whisper, drawing everyone's attention. Tears were beginning to trail down her face. "She's going to come and kill me too, just like she killed Sophia."
"Emma." Taylor snapped, her voice taking on a cautionary edge. The redhead flinched in response, but the reproach only made her desperate to speak faster.
"This isn't the real Taylor!" She exclaimed, eyes twitching this way and that with a crazed fervor that set me on edge. "The real one's still trapped in the gym locker!" Taylor's hands shot up to grip at the side of her head. She was trembling now. "I'd filled it up with used tampons and pads from all the girls and garbage from the bathrooms and left it to sit over break, and then today Sophia pushed and locked her in."
"Stop. Stop! Please stop." Taylor whimpered into the table, clawing and pulling at her hair.
Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention and my eyes snapped over to it. All around us, the room was starting to change. On the walls, paint began to peel and chip off in flakes, drifting to the ground like dark burgundy snow. In the wall opposite me, smooth and pristine windows were marred by sudden fractures spider webbing throughout the panes. The cheap metal of the frames and legs of the various school furniture rapidly decayed, rusting and crumbling as though several hundred years had just passed before my eyes.
Miss Militia leapt to her feet, fleeing her chair moments before one of the legs gave way and it clattered over backwards. Emma was not so lucky, tumbling to the floor when her chair cracked and toppled several moments later. She continued her rushed confession in spite of this.
"It was horrible: the worst thing you've ever smelt and crawling with bugs and we just left her there!"
A wave of vertigo hit me and I stumbled, reeling over backwards before the autonomous systems in my suit compensated for my sudden lack of balance and took control of my movements to hold me up. My vision blurred, and when I reflexively blinked to clear it, suddenly I was no longer in the classroom. Instead, I was standing in front of an open locker, thoroughly lined with fermented garbage, crawling with insects, and smelling more foul than anything that had ever assaulted my nose before. I doubled over, gagging and fighting down the urge to vomit. As my eyes began to water, I blinked again to clear them and the scene vanished as suddenly as it had come.
"No... No!" Taylor whimpered from her position on the opposite side of the table. "Gotta keep it together. Need to be in control. I'm the only one-"
The sound of violent retching drew my attention and I turned just in time to see Emma Barnes vomit on the floor where she lay. The sound of her ragged gasps and gags began to distort, twisting and becoming choppy like a corrupted audio file, before overwhelming me with a thunderous chittering sound. I whirled around, desperate to find the source of the immense cacophony and nearly dropped my halberd at the sight that greeted me.
The walls and ceiling of the classroom had become covered with a carpet of insects so thick that none of the original color could be glimpsed between their immense numbers. They skittered about, pushing and clashing together in their scramble for room to move and many were thrown from the wall in the conflict. The ones that fell hit the ground, vanishing with a dull wet splash. Looking down, I found myself standing up to my calves in a sea of thick rancid blood, fermenting and bubbling up into a dark red frothy foam that was creeping ever higher around me. The stench was overpowering, and this time I couldn't hold on to the contents of my stomach. I doubled over, adding my vomit to the putrid sea and then, just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, I felt the solid ground drop out beneath me. With a garbled cry, I sank beneath the bloody tide like a rock. The blood swept over me, forcing its way up my nose and down my throat like a living thing trying to tear me apart from the inside out. I lashed out, thrashing around in an attempt to break its hold over me, while I desperately reached up, trying to find something, To my nearly euphoric surprise, my hand made contact with something solid. I clamped down on it, gripping with the fervor of a drowning man and heaved, dragging myself from the ruthlessly grasping sea. As my head finally broke the surface I coughed violently, heaving and choking in my overwhelming need to dispel the putrid fluid that sought to suffocate me. I shook my head and blinked my eyes, desperate to clear them so that I could search for any way to flee this nightmarish hell. When I found my sight, I very nearly let go of my only lifeline. The object that I was clinging to, that had allowed me to claw my way free of certain death, was the body of my deceased mother, hanging by the neck from the very same noose I'd seen in our apartment two decades ago. As I trembled in shock, her eyes snapped open, fixing me with a glare filled with hate and loathing. " " " It wasn't my fault! Everyone thought I was being combative and belligerent, but I just didn't understand them! I I closed my eyes, desperately trying to blink back tears, and when I finally opened them I was met with the sight of two demonic red orbs. The bloodstained child stared down at me with wide eyes of crazed indifference as her hands tightened further around my neck. All around me, a chorus of a thousand voices spoke at once. " I felt my body going numb, my consciousness slipping away from me as I was slowly strangled to death. 'No! Not like this. It can't end like this. There's still so much I have left to do.' My internal pleas fell unheard into the void of my soul. As my vision began to darken and thick bitter tears trailed from my eyes, for once, self reflection came remarkably easy. As I looked back on my life, I realized that it was never my successes and accomplishments that brought me pleasure, but the recognition I received from the people whose opinions truly mattered. Why should I care for empty praises sung freely and without meaning by the mayor when I could receive Director Piggot's rare but sincere words of thanks and honor. Why should I care for a grand title and position of power, when at the end of a hard fought battle I could be the recipient of one of Miss Militia's relieved and infectious smiles. Did it truly matter what anyone else thought about my personality or my looks, when nearly every day It was in that moment that I realized that the thing I would regret most in death, was being unable to spend just one more session, tinkering and talking with Dragon, straight through the night.
"Colin!"
Sluggishly, my eyes fluttered open. I felt like my head was wrapped in a thick cloud that clung to my thoughts and blurred my vision.
"Colin! Please wake up, please answer me!" I recognized that voice: light, slightly electronic, and with an obvious Newfoundland flair.
"Dragon?" I croaked out. My voice was hoarse and my throat unbearably sore. Distantly, I felt my body shifting and suddenly a robotic face filled my vision.
"Colin! Oh thank god. I was afraid I wouldn't make it in time."
As I fought against the fog that clouded my thoughts, I struggled to get my bearings. I was sitting on the ground, my torso propped upright as I leaned against Dragon's form. It wasn't the real dragon obviously, as far as I knew, she never left her home workshop in Canada. The Dragon supporting me was one of her humanoid remote suits, that accompanied the larger draconic variety into battle to help soften her public image.
"You were on your back and then you started having a seizure and vomiting... I was so scared that you'd drown before I got here. Just... sit still for a minute, and I'll figure out a way to get you, Miss Militia, and Miss Barnes out of here at once."
As I felt Dragon begin to lower me back onto the ground and pull away, a surge of panic gripped my chest. Clumsily, I reached out, trying desperately to grab onto her before she could go. She paused in her attempts to help me lean back and reached out to take my hand. I squeezed down frantically, clinging to her as though she were the only thing tethering me to life.
"Don't leave me." I managed to choke out, once again blinking tears from my eyes. "Please don't leave me." She hesitated for a moment before pulling me closer and giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Don't worry, I won't leave you, but I do need to check on Miss Militia and Miss Barnes. If you need anything, just say the word and I'll be back by your side, okay?"
Right, I wasn't the only person here. Miss Militia might need help as well, but still, I was reluctant to let go of her hand. Memories that I dearly wished had remained buried were still cycling through my mind and I was gripped by a mostly irrational fear that visions of them would return the moment I let go. Eventually, pragmatism won out over selfishness and I reluctantly let her go. She gave me a warm reassuring smile and reached out to tap the corner of my visor.
"I'm never far away if you need me Colin. Try to rest for now and I'll be right back over as soon as I can." With those final words of encouragement, she finished laying me back on the ground and disappeared from my sight.