Journeyman 3.6

The month of April had come, and the canon storyline was due to begin shortly. It was the eight, and Thomas was fairly sure it had been the night of the 11th that Taylor headed out to look for a chance to be a hero. Which would have lead her to encountering Lung, who was pissed off at the Undersiders for hitting his casino earlier.

Which had actually already happened, and the ABB had been on the warpath. The fact remained they had not found the Undersiders yet, though they were probably still looking. Taylor's first outing as a hero had been a nasty incident all things told, but the sheer amount of derailment that had been ongoing for months should have thrown things off track. Still, that didn't mean that the plot couldn't still try and reassert itself on this world, especially if Taylor's trigger event and subsequent fall into eventually becoming Skitter and then Kephri had been engineered by the woman with the fedora.

Given the effectiveness of her power in the final conflict, he could understand that, but at the same time he was reluctant to allow that to happen to her. Staying back for her to trigger was already a crime in his eyes, but he had not known how to prevent it and then prevent those three bullies from escalating to something that actually would kill Taylor instead.

The problem for Thomas lay in the fact that the others who were after him would probably know he would act to help Taylor, or could assume there was a high likelihood of him doing that, and would be watching. That would in turn mean that walking out there would be stepping into a trap.

All in all, he was fairly certain that going out there would be a mistake, but at the same time the thought of not going was just not tolerable. He was going to have to face facts, he was likely to go there, and trigger whatever trap the others would have laid for him. Hopefully he would be able to get out of there alive.

In the meanwhile, the Protectorate and PRT ENE were facing some PR issues and Glen Chambers had been probably tearing out his hair as recorded shots of heroes bullying regular citizens all around had been published not only on the net but in national television, including Armsmaster calling a black woman a word that had the Empire cheering, and a good number of populace in arms to lynch Armsmaster for that.

Official statement had been made that there was a group of Strangers capable of mimicking the appearance of others in the city causing trouble, and that the populace should be wary of any false heroes, as well as some points made clear like that Armsmaster rarely patrolled without his bike, while the copies had been seen walking around. Additionally, they had not displayed any signs of their armour actually being anything more than a knock-off costume.

Still, it had hurt, and the fact the bank had been raided by the same 'false heroes' had not increased people's trust in their supposed protectors. Though the fact that Miss Militia had been recorded 'shooting Assault' and watching that 'assault' burst into flames and vanish had convinced some that it was some sort of 'Legion plot', though not everyone, not nearly everyone.

VoidCowboy had got a week's ban for suggesting it was all part of a Simurgh plot, and further hypothesizing that Legion himself was a Simurgh bomb. The fact that some people had began to honestly consider it a possibility while others laughed and hurriedly reported VoidCowboy had shown the people were torn. They had to be, when that guy got people actually thinking he might be right.

The Undersiders had apparently managed to go to ground successfully for now, but if the canon was even somewhat recoverable, those stations of canon would be approaching in a short order. Which left Thomas sighing quietly as he watched the Hebert residence, invisible and standing on a rooftop under several protective spells.

Shaking his head quietly, he wondered about how this would work out. At least he had added a spell to his selection that had potential synergy with hers. Giant Vermin did what the spell name said, turning vermin into giant size. Only a couple of them, at his current level, but it should still help. Especially if he targeted spiders.

Creating a couple of giant sized black widows should see even Lung develop a touch of arachnophobia, and while he had no doubt they'd be taken down in a hurry, they would only need to bite lung once to deliver a rather sizeable dose of potent venom into his veins. Possibly sufficient to make Lung's own regeneration falter even without either Undersiders or Armsmaster.

Still, standing out there on the roof invisible did have him feeling more than a little awkward.

Legion had been enjoying the chaos he had created, and while the PRT was busy he had arranged for a prison break to occur at PRT ENE, having leaked some information to the E88 since Cricket had ended up in the PRT ENE's custody for a few days, and the Empire was glad to take the opportunity to attack while some of Legion clones were distracting people in the city.

He had actually had that one clone join the Empire 88 when rescued by them, claiming to be one of the people 'taught' by Legion. Said clone had even spun a tale about Legion being a power-granting trump, but one who could only split his power into 'so many' followers. As well as claiming that Legion would be looking to kill him so he'd help the Empire if they helped him.

Which had left his clone free from PRT custody and in the hands of the Empire, who were rather enjoying the fact they now had got their hands on a guy with powers similar to Legion. The fact that 'Legion himself' was known to be spreading mayhem across the city had sold the point.

Not that he planned to stay with Empire for long. Playing around with them for a bit was fun, but he found it distasteful to attack someone for the colour of their skin or their sexual preferences, and in all honesty he had a feeling that a lot of the older group members were in the E88 for various other reasons than the outright hatred and bigotry, but were quite keen on using it as a motivation to raise hell amongst the targeted folks.

Legion himself considered himself to be an equal opportunity butcher and gamer. They were all NPCs without a meaningful existence, serving the purpose of making the game they were all playing entertaining for him and the other hunters. Heck, he was pretty sure their 'prey' was an NPC too, an end-boss of sorts.

After all, the alternative of this being real was just not worth thinking about. Not after all he had done. Nope, it was all just part of a weird, bizarre little dream and if he actually got the real powers out of this dream then damn, it was not as if this fictional world of illusions was going to survive for long anyway. Not with Scion intent on starting up the Golden Morning eventually, and that was a good enough reason to accelerate his plans a little, certainly.

Still, he was pretty sure that he had a few years before then, and was not in that much of a rush. Especially as one of his foes was a kid, and a Ward. Blowing up PRT ENE and the Wards might be fun. Take down one member of the competition too. Hey, stealing a nuke and blowing up the entire city might be too.

But that would be difficult to pull off, especially with how things were secured after the advent of metahumans, capes, the powers. He had come to town with military gear, but most of the explosives too were relatively 'low yield' for military, stuff he had stolen from military stockpiles and secured armouries, but still, old and less powerful. The new and good stuff was locked away somewhere else and he had not got enough time to look for it earlier.

His intellect had grown as had his physical abilities but the world was different from the one he was born in, and a lot of things were kept secret and the opposition had Thinkers on their sides to help conceal and lock away evidence of some materials he was rather sure would be out there, just buried under too many locks and keys for him to acquire in any reasonable amount of time.

Which meant that it was a better bet to stick around in Brockton Bay and raise merry hell till he'd flush out that rat of a prey they had to chase, and eliminate him once and for all. Though he was starting to get a bit paranoid and feel a need to keep moving. Being shot by that bitch Shadow Stalker, being blown up by the bomb bitch Bakuda, being torched by Lung, being ripped apart by Bitch's dogs, being fucking splattered under Squealer's tank of a car, he had died a lot, but he had come back stronger and smarter.

And yet there had been someone hunting him, still was. He had lost a few clones being shot in the back of the head, but unable to track the one behind it. His magic had failed to give him any proper leads about them either.

It was frustrating little game of cat and mouse, and he preferred to be the cat, the monster, rather than the prey. He played his games to take down bigger monsters, but he preferred to be the one that they were all afraid of in the end, because being afraid was no fun. He wasn't a fan of horror games for a reason, though as he was, he had little to fear when death could only make him stronger and better each time.

Even if the drive to kill and eviscerate, to paint the walls red with blood were a bit concerning at times, but then again it was him living up the villain persona, following the geas he was under, and it was all part of the damn games they played anyway, right? It was not as if he was ever going to be held accountable about his actions to anyone, yeah?

Taylor was showering at home and washing the last remnants of the juice dumped on her head earlier that day out of the dark hair. Her art project was safe, she had put it away in time, but her books had been soaked, and while she had kicked the door open and sent Emma sprawling across the floor in the bathroom, she had ended up a worse mess herself. Still, stepping on the bitch's back while walking out of the bathroom like she hadn't even been worth walking around had given her some payback.

She knew her mother would have been so disappointed at her, she should have been better than them, to stand above that level of common street thug, but Emma had thrown her away and then acted like she was something she'd scrape off the sole of her shoes. Being stepped upon might just be doing unto Emma what she'd done to Taylor before.

She was still restraining herself from just swarming them all under a rush of insect bites and injections that would have left them dead or at least hospitalized, and she had used a few hornets and bees sparingly in those cold months. Winter and spring did not make using too many insects a viable option, but thankfully Winslow was such a rotting old piece of crap that having a few infestations here and there meant she had access to some nasty insects there that could easily enough be brought in when she could accomplish it stealthily enough. Not too often, not too obviously.

Her outfit was ready though, well other than the colours. As it was it had a little villainous look about it, but at the same time it was good for moving unseen in the night. It would hopefully serve her well. Besides, heading out there she would be able to prove she had worth. After witnessing the destruction around her fair city, Taylor had already began to consider the real threats in life, and that had made Emma's bitter, poisonous words seem inconsequential in some ways, while they were hurtful they were not tearing at her as much as they once had. Because at some level, Taylor had reached the point where she considered Emma dead, and the thing that walked around with her face twisted into a sneer and laughing coldly and mockingly a twisted reflection of Sophia Hess, the one that had taken her old friend away.

Still, she was ready to head out, or she could work on the mask a bit more, a few more changes, but either way she would be out there. If not tonight, then tomorrow or the day after at latest. It was time for her to step out and become a hero.

Wheezing and grimacing as she lay back in the medical back at PRT ENE, Shadow Stalker was holding an oxygen mask to her face and grimacing. Her latest attack against Legion had left her struggling for breath, after she had turned to shadows and smoke only to have a damned lightning bolt put through her figure.

The doctors had commented one of her damned lungs was scorched, and they were intent to bring in Panacea in a hurry. The fact she had been out on patrol with Clockblocker had seen her irritated enough to rush in and engage Legion on spotting him out there in disguise, pretending to be her of all people, really riling her up.

Clockblocker had got backup on the way and then rushed in to help since Shadow Stalker had engaged. It was humiliating that she would have been dead if not for Clockblocker dropping in and freezing Legion clone of her in place.

They'd had to retreat, and the PRT squad that had hosed the time-locked figure had later reported the clone had apparently bit through its tongue as soon as the time locked state had ended, before they could issue the tranquilizers for a live capture.

Which meant she was in for another harsh talk about thinking before acting and that she should have just put a tranquilizer in the guy in the first place. The damn bastard had acted like her, mocking her! She should have put a damn broadhead through the bastard's skull, or a tazer into the skull. That had been a riot that one time. Except Armsmaster threw a fit she had wasted anti-brute bolt like that on Legion. Wasted. Apparently the man considered shooting Legion in the head with that shocker a waste. Fucking dick, that's what Armsmaster was.

Still, until Panacea dropped in she was struggling to breathe properly, and the doctors were of the opinion that she was damn lucky that Legion's attacks didn't seem to work like regular energy physics taught, or she should have been dead rather than just having burns all over the inside of her lungs.

"Guys, the ABB has been looking for us all day, and while I'm sure they have not found us yet, they are closing in on us. Boss hasn't answered the phone when Tats called, so we are on our own right now. We need to consider whether we stay together here in case of an attack and fight our way through, together, or if we should split up and go quiet for a while." Brian spoke up seriously while looking at the others.

"The couch is here, the console is here, the television is here, I'm staying either way." Alec had already dismissed his concerns and returned his attention on the game he was playing. At least it had been on pause while he spoke, that was improvement in itself. Probably because it was a single player game for a change, rather than one of those on-line shooters.

"Stay. Stronger in pack." Bitch's response was more or less what he expected. Rachel preferred to be called that even if she had given her actual name. She refused to accept what the PRT was trying to call her thought. That in itself had taught Brian just how stubborn she could be.

"Legion's activities should have distracted Lung and Oni Lee more, but he has gone back to taunting and annoying the PRT and Protectorate again. Even if his PR nightmare attempt is falling apart after several shows of capes fighting their copies but without their powers, he has managed to make the people more wary and suspicious of the actual heroes too." Lisa frowned slightly.

"Not your fault, you did say your read on the man was weird." Brian squeezed Lisa's shoulder as she sighed loudly.

"Not as weird as Blackjack, but the information that I did get seemed impossible. I am still not sure if there's some stranger out there with power to troll thinkers. First Blackjack, then whatever it was boss was after in those few places he wanted us to check, and then there's that Legion guy."

"Asshole." Bitch nodded slightly. The guy had sent one of his clones to try and fry her and her dogs one time when she was hitting an E88 dog-fighting ring. She had her three primary dogs bounce on him and tear him apart. Tougher than he should have been, and he had hurt her dogs too, before perishing.

Then again few things could take two of her enhanced dogs ripping their head off another chewing through their neck at the same time, with teeth driven through the eyes to make the jaw hold tight while pulling said head off those shoulders. Gruesome, brutal, but then again Legion was on a kill-order.

Legend let out a long breath as he approached the Protectorate Rig, starting his descent. It had taken a good while to set everything in order and make his preparations to arrive to Brockton Bay. He came with a simple travel bag with him, but depending on how long this would take, his better half might follow, for a temporary stay at least.

The other members of the Cauldron were wary of the city, especially after Legion had arrived there. In Legend's opinion it was a high time for someone to remove the man. They knew he was running around in Brockton Bay, and taking him out was long overdue. Then again, Legend had fought and immolated Legion several times already, only to witness the man return once more.

Still, Legend had been practicing, and there had been some observations recently that the man's ability to return to life might have a proximity setting to it.

Perhaps he should seriously consider freezing the man and hauling him to orbit. Throwing his body towards the sun would have him either thawed out in the void of space or close enough to the sun to die over and over again while falling into the star.

That might be wishful thinking, but Legend was starting to think it was a possibility. The problem was that if he rose that high he would possibly risk running into Simurgh, and she had been quite successful in swatting anything actually headed towards space before. Granted, this was a man rather than a satellite, but still.

Ah well. Either way, he had a meeting with Armsmaster, followed by the PRT Director, Piggot he thought, and then he would get some sleep.