20

Chapter Twenty—The Calm Before The Storm

Chapter Twenty—The Calm Before The Storm

AN: Okay, this is what's been building for a while. Things are about to get ugly. Poor Taylor.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor continued examining all of the spare pieces that she had left over from her first attempt at making an armored suit. She was fairly certain that she had enough pieces that she could, for all intents and purposes, build another suit, nearly identical to the first. Taylor had taken some extra time to improve the energy capacitance system, so that now she would even be able to mount some real weapons and force fields on it. Of course, it would still be made out of the same alloy that had proved its uselessness against the Simurgh, unless, that is, she started from scratch and recast all of the armor panels.

JARVIS had finally helped her lick the mixture issues that she was having with creating Secondary Adamantium. The lack of a crucial element that was necessary to create one of the astronomically expensive resins that went into making the alloy had stymied her for far too long. But now, by substituting a different mixture of elements into the resin's recipe, she was able to create a version of Adamantium.

Technically, it wasn't even Secondary Adamantium. Maybe she should call it Tertiary Adamantium. Unfortunately, it lacked the absolute tensile strength of even Secondary Adamantium, although it was nearly five hundred times stronger than the best steel alloy. However, Tertiary Adamantium would never stop the Hulk in a rage, or Thor when he was going all Tommy Lee with his hammer. Still, it was a fantastic material compared to anything else she had available on this world, which brought a faint smile to her face.

It was times like these that Taylor was glad she had projects like these to distract her from life. The talk with her father had gone both better and worse than she had expected. Better in that she was no longer grounded, and worse because she'd agreed to get his actual okay before going out in her armor unless it was a true emergency. True emergencies being defined on a list that was currently in her dad's top desk drawer and being depressingly small. There might also have been some discussion about keeping him updated on what she was working on. Especially if she worked on a new suit. Bleh.

Taylor sighed. Back to thinking about her armor, not her nearly non-existent personal life. Could she afford the time it would take for Adamantium? While she loved the idea of having the durability of a real suit of armor, she really couldn't afford to wait while JARVIS finished the mixing, pouring, and molding of a completely new set of armor panels. Rather, she needed a version of her armor as soon as possible so that she could begin a dialogue with New Wave. Somehow, Taylor didn't think she'd particularly impress Brandish or Lady Photon if she just showed up as herself. And they were important to some of her long term plans. Not irreplaceable, but still...

Taylor's attention was distracted by a voice.

"Miss Hebert? I must interrupt you. Miss Trish is incapacitated."

Taylor's head came up. "Wait... What happened?"

JARVIS' voice was full of concern as he said, "She overextended her ability and it caused what I believe is referred to as a backfire. Near the end, she was crying and there was blood mixed with her tears. She did manage to take QT before she lost consciousness."

Taylor stood up, truly alarmed now. "Trish is unconscious? Where is she?"

"Her office, Miss."

Taylor didn't waste another moment, running through the halls towards Trish's office.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish groaned, as she rolled over, the faint light touching her eyes and sending little fingers of agony probing into her temples. The last thing she remembered had been getting the answer she'd long sought, then pain had finally overwhelmed her. A voice interrupted her thoughts.

"How are you feeling?"

Trish opened her eyes to Taylor's worried face before her mind felt crushed, so overwhelmed that for a moment her sanity teetered on a razor's thin edge. The answers her power sought splintered against something so vast and incomprehensible that she felt her mind literally being torn asunder. Desperately, Trish managed to blink, shutting off the flow of her power.

Then it was just Taylor staring down at her. Just Taylor, with no Godlike being hovering protectively at her shoulder. Trish blinked again and the thought was simply gone. Once more, and not even a memory of the event remained, except there was a sensation inside of Trish that knew it would be best not to attempt to use her power on Taylor ever again, even by accident. That, and knowledge that there was a brief gap in her memories.

Another blink, and Trish knew that she could now easily shut off her power at will. How she knew was... oh. She knew because she'd had a second trigger event. How... oh. The answers seemed to flow into her mind.

Trish realized she'd almost died yesterday. It had been a very near thing, despite the QT. And despite the second trigger that had occurred, likely saving her life, as it appeared to have at least partially kept her brain from simply dissolving into sludge as the weakened nerve cells broke apart under the stress.

"Trish?" Taylor sounded worried, but Trish refused to probe even the model of her friend that she had so carefully constructed. Not after... whatever had happened. In the light of her new found knowledge, the gap in her memories was frightening. It also highlighted just dangerous it would be to try to Think about Taylor.

Instead, Trish talked to her. And listened as Taylor told her what had happened.

An arterial embolism. That was the term for what she'd done to herself. It had been located inside the structure of her brain and should have killed her. The explanation was true, that Trish intrinsically understood. JARVIS alerting Taylor when he did had helped, as Tony had a surprising amount of medical knowledge. Well, that and a steady diet of QT.

The little white pills could literally regenerate nervous tissue, even the delicate and tiny nuclei that made up the medulla, thalamus, and hypothalamus of the brain. If you took enough of it. Trish had received the equivalent of a hundred of the tiny pills dissolved in a bag of saline solution or so Taylor had told her.

QT had healed her brain and left her tingling all over as her nervous system was tuned up. It had also brought home just how dangerous her power could be. Especially with her second trigger event. Because now she wasn't going to get the same kind of warnings that she'd gotten before. Trish could already see that, as the answer came to her with almost no thought.

Before, crippling migraines had disabled Trish before she could do much damage to herself. No doubt, cumulatively she wasn't doing herself any favors, as five to ten years down the road she would have suffered a variety of brain-involved issues. Okay, make that six point seven one six years at the rate she had been abusing her power before.

Now, Trish could focus her power long past the point that it would have killed her before and keep going until she literally dropped dead. Her second trigger had seemingly removed the built in protections that pain provided.

"How is your power feeling?"

Trish felt an instinctive feral grin start to form, before smoothing it away. "I triggered again." She met the eyes of the girl sitting next to the bed. There was an awareness there that Trish didn't need her power to read. Taylor knew.

Taylor shrugged. "Yeah, I figured. After I dosed you with the QT, I built a scanner and took a look at your brain to make sure it wasn't going to explode or anything. Your Corona Pollentia was different. And you were healing faster than just the QT accounted for. I figured that you triggered again."

Trish stared off into space. "Interesting."

"You need to be careful. We'll test your ability when you feel better, but until then, try not to push it. If it doesn't hurt you anymore, it's likely you don't have any protections against overuse. You could just drop dead from Thinking."

Trish frowned. "Gee, thanks. That's so reassuring."

Taylor grinned. "You're welcome."

Both of their minds seemed to come to the same conclusion however regarding the effect that massive doses of QT might have as far as allowing Trish to extend her ability.

"What if I keep a QT-"

"Actually, QT could be your safety-"

Both stopped talking. Then Taylor took over, somehow making Trish feel like the younger of the two of them as she said, "You're not going to risk yourself by overusing your ability. QT regenerates nerve tissue, but whether it could do so fast enough to keep you alive if you badly overextend yourself is unknown. Maybe we can do some tests in the future as to just how effective it would be. But for now, emergency use only. Understood?"

"Yes, mom."

For a moment a wistful look crossed Taylor face, making Trish feel like an utter shit for reminding the other girl that her mother was dead. Then it receded, replaced by a fond smile. "Idiot," she stated, reaching over and taking Trish's hand. "Do you even know how much I'd miss you if something happened to you? So no risking yourself. Okay?"

Chastened, Trish nodded silently. It was nice holding Taylor's hand. It felt like family, something Trish was unfamiliar with. It was the same when Danny hugged her. She knew that Danny cared about her. And apparently, so did Taylor.

Over the rest of the day, Trish slowly and carefully tested her abilities, careful not to overextend herself. The second trigger had done far more than just partially heal her. One thing it had done was to extend her ability in a strange and wonderful way, certain built in limitations now gone.

Trish could now see some things that she'd only been able to infer before. Small bits of data now gave her rock solid answers. A glance at a person showed everything about them, from how they were feeling, to their bank account passwords, almost as if she were reading their minds. Not that different from before, but a little stronger, a little better. Now, there was no scattering effect of increasingly different answers based upon bad initial information. Trish either had the answer, or she knew she didn't. No more frustrations from beating her head against a wall of information that wouldn't yield the answers she needed, instead leading her increasingly far afield as she chased the Golden Snitch.

A few more minor tests over the course of the day had shown her just how easily she now controlled her power, although to be truthful, Trish felt far too vulnerable with it turned completely off.

Trish blinked sleepily, enjoying the feeling of being pain-free. The events of the day had tired her out far more than she had expected. She had barely gotten out of bed, mostly just to use the bathroom. Taylor had brought her lunch and dinner and served it on a TV tray so that Trish could eat in bed.

Taylor. Her best friend. Trish rubbed away the frown creasing her features as she considered the unfairness of still not being able to comprehend what had happened to Taylor; what the girl had become, even after experiencing a second trigger event. But that brief look upon awakening had been enough to caution even her from ever trying again.

Whatever protected Taylor Hebert from being seen by Precogs and understood by Thinkers was simply too powerful to be circumvented by the abilities of 'mere' Parahumans. That was one fact that Trish was absolutely certain of. A person would have to be a fool to try to use their ability more than once on Taylor, and one thing Trish wasn't was a fool.

Later that night, Trish snuggled into her pillow and fell asleep, vague dreams of a being too vast for mortal consciousnesses to comprehend troubling her. Then they, too, faded into oblivion, leaving her at peace.

When she awoke the next morning, Trish had a smile on her face as she contemplated what she needed to do about Coil.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor worked grimly on the connections on her newest suit. It actually very much resembled her first suit, primarily because it was mostly made up of leftover parts from it. The only changes she was making were to the power system, most particularly to the energy capacitance system, to the output of the weapons and shields, and to the computational power in the form of carbon-based processors.

"Taylor, walk me through this again."

Inwardly, she winced, but allowed no hint of her resentment to cross her face. After all, she'd made the bargain. Now she had to live with it. "Well, Dad, I figured out a cheap and easy way of increasing the capacitance of my armor by more than fifty times. It was two thousand and twenty-five gigajoules, or roughly two terajoules, with an absolute cap of around ten times that. Now, it's at one hundred terajoules with an even greater cap."

Danny Hebert nodded his head in understanding. "I take it that is a lot better than before." From his expression, a sudden thought had occurred to him. "Is it close to what... Tony Stark had?"

Taylor shook her head regretfully. "Nah, it's just a drop in the bucket compared to what Tony had built into some of his later armors, but it'll do until I've got the time and money to build a magnetic flux capacitance system for energy storage. That'll allow me to finally enter exajoule territory. But by then I'll need another power source, new weapon's systems..." Her voice trailed off as she thought about what she'd need for a real set of armor, including a far more lethal weapon mix than anything Tony would have gone for.

Danny frowned. "An exajoule is a thousand petajoules..."

Taylor finished up for him. "And a petajoule is a thousand terajoules which is a thousand gigajoules. Basically, my first armor had about two petajoules of useful capacitance, as trying to raise it more threatened to overwhelm a lot of systems. It was so little that I was still figuring things in gigajoules and gigawatts, just to make it easier to explain it to everyone else."

Worry briefly shadowed Danny's eyes as he said, "Exajoules sound scary. That's a lot of energy flying around if things get dangerous. What if your armor gets damaged?"

Taylor shrugged. "It won't blow up. I do have fail safes. Plus, it could save my life. Dad, my armor is going to be a lot better now, just because I can up the weapons and shields tremendously. Not to mention carbon chips! Can you say JARVIS on board?"

A dry voice sounded over her lab's speakers, "Oh, the unmitigated joy of it."

Taylor grinned. JARVIS would enjoy it, despite his acting the grouch. After all, who wouldn't enjoy riding aboard her far more powerful and versatile armor?

After all, it wasn't just the computational power going up. She would be upping the weapons and shields. Definitely. Her armor would now be able to power twenty petawatt repulsors, particle cannons, and shields. Well, at least as long as any shields that strong were set to burst mode. Meaning that for brief seconds of time, during blows from Endbringers, for example, her armor would channel at least twenty petawatts through the force fields emitters.

Otherwise, the shields would default to "only" a hundred and twenty gigawatts. Plus even if they were overwhelmed, the shield emitters would still be fine, strong enough to take the blow and reset. That is, assuming she survived the same blow that knocked down her shields. Taylor frowned, thinking about the Simurgh and her ridiculous telekinesis. Still, these shields should be able to stand up to even that amount of force. In theory, that is.

Even better, since Taylor had finally solved the carbon chip issues, JARVIS would be able to produce enough of them that she would be incorporating them into this set of armor. Which meant having him able to piggyback in her armor at all times, as well as run the drones, thereby increasing her combat effectiveness by several orders of magnitude.

Which was good, as human reflexes were simply incapable of effectively using burst mode shields, the time between shield failure and reinforcement sometimes being measured only in microseconds. While that would be like days to JARVIS, the only way that Taylor could actively use them would be if she developed and injected herself with the Extremis Virus, something she was far from ready to do. Actually, she was unlikely to ever choose to do that since there were so many better paths to similar capabilities. Paths that Tony had never taken.

Sometimes, Taylor could barely understand the choices that Tony Stark had made and she had his memories to show why he'd done the things he did. Still, sharing his memories and intellect didn't mean the two of them thought alike, something becoming increasingly clear the more time went by. Taylor placed a higher priority on items that were more effective in helping the world as a whole, while Tony had made things that aided in his endless pursuit of wealth and personal aggrandizement. Period.

Additionally, as regards combat, Tony was very much focused on just his armor with no other real dilutions of his efforts. Taylor, on the other hand, used anything and everything that made her more dangerous and increased her survivability, from adding more lethal weapons to her armor, in this case particle cannons, to using massive numbers of drones to help in fights.

Why Tony hadn't thought to use drones in his battles with his various foes, Taylor had no idea. Instead, he'd built literally hundreds of suits of armor, many of them he'd never used, or used once at most. Since a suit of armor cost as much as three dozen drones at a bare minimum, while often possessing only half the combat effectiveness, it was definitely not because the armor was more the cost effective of the two.

No, thinking about the man she'd come to know from his memories, Taylor had to conclude that Tony was an egocentric adrenaline junkie, who simply couldn't stand not to be the center of attention. He didn't want help because he didn't want to share the credit for the result.

Her lips curved slightly as Taylor contemplated just how a man like Tony Stark functioned as a member of a team like the Avengers. Egotistical and a party animal, while at the same time, a desperate loner in the innermost depths of his mind, Tony seemed like a truly odd fit to such a group. And at times, he had been. Just ask the female members of the team, many of who had dated him (or those male members who had dated them, at times dealing with the fallout).

As she shook her head, the smile Taylor wore was likely as indulgent as the smiles of the myriad women who had littered the landscape of Tony's life. Because despite everything that she knew, and she pretty much knew everything, she found Tony Stark to still be a likable person. Certainly she liked him. Her dad... not so much.

No, Taylor saw past the public persona Tony had assumed to the real person he was underneath. Oftentimes angry, other times surprisingly shy, the real Tony Stark shared very little with the person he projected to the world. His memories revealed a man who'd been shockingly sensitive until an insensitive world had beaten the majority of it out of him. Until he was more than sufficiently tough and jaded to first function, then excel, in an at best indifferent world.

Knowing how badly Tony had hurt inside at not being able to save his world just made Taylor all the more determined to save her own. To show that no matter what Tony Stark had been, he'd been capable of more than he'd accomplished. That she wanted the same thing for herself, and the people she cared for was a huge bonus.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her dad's voice, "Penny for them."

Taylor smiled as she met her dad's calm gaze. "I don't think you'd agree that they were worth a penny if you knew what I was thinking about."

A faint expression of distaste crossed Danny's face. "Tony, huh?"

"Yeah. I was just... thinking about how different he and I are, while at the same time, somewhat similar. Both of us want the same things in general, mainly keeping the people in our lives safe, but we go about achieving it a lot differently."

From Danny's expression, he didn't agree, but he also didn't say it. Instead, he made his goodbyes until the next time he decided to interrupt and inspect her work. Which would be anytime he wanted and likely twice as often whenever she was working on her armor.

After all, she'd told JARVIS to be completely honest with her dad if he were asked what she was working on. It was all part of the bargain they'd made.

Grimly determined, Taylor went back to work. After all, neither her armor nor the half a dozen other items she was working on would build themselves.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Jin Lee peered into the shadowy depths of yet another room, trying to discern something of its purpose when he heard the voice coming from behind him.

"Hey, what are you doing in here?"

Jin spun at the question, swiftly bowing low to the shockingly young girl who confronted him. He didn't know her status, but many of the Gaijin who haunted the place in which he'd found employment seemed very young to him even though he, himself, had only seen twenty years pass.

He was even more surprised when the girl returned his bow with a much shallower one that indicated her higher status, although her hands at sides in the masculine style was odd. Even odder was her response in slightly rusty Japanese.

"{Why are you here in this place, honored worker?}"

Jin quickly bowed again before replying, "{I have lost my way and seek knowledge of my location, honored miss.}"

The girl merely nodded this time and stepped forward, closely examining Jin's security badge. It allowed him to take a careful look at her, although he was careful not to seem to stare.

The girl had long curly dark hair framing a thin face with a wide mouth. The glasses that covered large, hazel eyes, coupled with the white lab coat she wore, gave her an appearance not too different from some of the characters in the Manga that Jin liked to read .

From so close, she also looked even more absurdly young that she had at a distance, even though she was perhaps an inch taller than Jin, making her quite tall for such a young woman. She also bore a badge that was white, with the only words on it being her name and title, which was merely "Research Manager". Whether that meant a research manager, or the research manager, Jin didn't know.

The girl's voice was polite as she again spoke in Japanese, her accent now more confident, "{You have stumbled into a more secure area than you have authorization for. I will provide you an escort to your work station.}"

Jin bowed low again. "{I thank you for your assistance, Kacho-san. May I ask your name so that I may thank you formally?}"

The girl nodded back. "{I am Taylor Hebert.}"

Jin, recognizing the surname as the same as the CEO of HTech, bowed again slightly lower. "{I am honored to meet you, Hebert-kacho. I thank you for your aid. I am Jin Lee.}"

The girl waved towards an object that had somehow silently approached them and was now floating just above and behind her. "{I am honored to meet you, Lee-san. This drone will lead you back to your work station. Goodbye.}"

Jin bowed again as the girl turned and left. He eyed the meter in diameter drone with some trepidation, but followed when it merely began to float off. This was clearly one of the security drones about which he'd heard. It didn't look dangerous, but looks could be deceiving, as Jin well knew. Bakuda didn't look dangerous, but after his master, Jin feared her the most of any of the elite that ruled the ABB. But then again, she was completely mad, only kept in line by her own fear of their master.

Jin shook his head. More important to him at the moment was his mission, not the deadly creatures that infested his gang. He focused a moment on the young girl who had just confronted him.

Was the girl the daughter of the company CEO, Hebert-shacho? If so, would her discovery of him in a place where he should not be cause him problems? Jin didn't know and it worried him. She hadn't truly scolded him and had been very kind and polite, even speaking to him in his native language, which was a surprise. Not many Gaijin knew Japanese. Of those that did, most did not speak it with so little accent.

Of course, her knowledge of the customs of his homeland was incomplete, as shown by her usage of only masculine gestures. Still, it was impressive. As were her responsibilities for her young age.

However, meeting the girl had not helped Jin to accomplish his mission. He'd been stopped short of penetrating deeply into this area of the research facility. Worse, he'd already been here for three days and was no closer to discovering the object that Empire 88 sought and which his master required that he take from them than when he'd started. For a moment, Jin contemplated the girl who he'd met. Perhaps Taylor Hebert would know of what object Kaiser sought? After all, she was a supervisor in the research branch of HTech.

Then he shook his head in despair. No, the girl was far too young to be trusted with such secrets, no matter her talent or family connections. He was rapidly running out of options. As he stared at the wall of the elevator, Jin began to feel a sense of resignation. He did not believe he would survive the accounting that his master would require of him. No, it was all too likely that in a mere two days, he would be dead.

Not that he truly feared death. No, Jin had long since made peace with the idea that he would die young. The problem lay in the fact that if he could but live a little while longer, he could provide a larger nest egg for his family. The same family that had fueled the ambition he had shown for moving up in the ABB. More responsibility meant more money. And yes, more risk, but with the leadership of Lung, who feared mere men, even if they also possessed powers? Jin certainly hadn't.

Now he knew it wasn't other men he needed to fear, rather instead the man he called master.

Currently, it appeared to have been a mistake for him to accept more of a leadership role with the ABB. Jin was under no illusions what Lung would do to him should he fail utterly. But there were different degrees of failure. Even if he failed to procure the object, so long as he denied it to Lung's enemies, might not his master be inclined to be merciful?

So be it. If he was unable to find this sought after object by the time of the raid, the mission would have to change. Instead of an all out search, he and his men would deny Kaiser and his Empire any chance to obtain it. No matter what it took.

Jin stared off into the distance as the elevator doors opened, absently noting the points to which incendiaries would need to be attached. After all, you don't work with a mad bomber like Bakuda without learning something of her art. Plus, if he asked in a flattering manner, she would help him, her ego, and a shared fear of their master fueling their cooperation.

Resigned, Jin nodded to himself. Yes, in two days time, HTech would burn.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Jim Nelson wiped sweat from his eyes as he finished helping maneuver the multi-ton slab of iron onto the flatbed at the edge of the docks. While the crane had done the bulk of the work, it was still up to men to make sure the immense piece of metal was properly situated for its journey to its new home. The only way to do that was the traditional one of muscle and sweat. Even in the cool morning air that March brought to Brockton Bay, his shirt stuck to him like a second layer of skin.

After unfastening the hoist cables, Jim grinned and sent a quick thumbs up to the crane operator to move onto the next piece that had just been liberated by the cutting crew. He and his crew watched with bemused self interest as the tall crane moved back towards the nearby ship which was currently a hive of activity. Jim doubted that there had been this many men working on it when it was being constructed.

Of course, now what was happening was the opposite of construction, as men with fire and force slowly tore apart what had once been a sturdy lady of the seas. Not a prima donna like the cruise ships, or a monster such as the now increasingly rare supertankers, the roughly five hundred foot long freighter that they were disassembling had been a workhorse, which had delivered a respectable amount of cargo in her day. Sadly, she'd been hard aground these last several years, ever since the docks had closed down and the brief, but violent rebellion of men that Jim had once worked with had taken place.

That had been a time of fear and uncertainty as a way of life ended and a city slowly began to die, its lifeblood siphoned away by other ports that somehow had maintained their viability when Brockton Bay had not. Jim, a twenty year veteran of the Dockworker's Union, had witnessed the slow and steady decline of shipping as the Endbringer Leviathan had made the world's oceans a dangerous place.

Jim shivered slightly despite the heat as he contemplated the inhuman horror of the Endbringers. In the end, Leviathan had merely destroyed a few hundred ships, only a drop in the bucket compared to the numbers that had formerly plied their trade routes. But fear of the unknown had done what sheer destruction could not, putting companies out of business and men out of a job.

Now only a handful of shipping companies maintained fleets, typically crewed by citizens of third world countries, such as the Philippines, who desperately needed the work. If some of the ships in those fleets occasionally disappeared, it was no worse than it had been three hundred years ago when pirates and storms had taken a similar toll.

Jim shook his head, trying to dispel his fanciful mood. In the end, he was just glad of having work after so many months of just getting by. So many times he'd almost left Brockton Bay, but in the end, it was his home. He, too, had been tempted by a job with one of the myriad gangs he shared the city with like so many younger guys who had compromised their morals to put food on their family's plates. Jim had always resisted, but at times, it had been a near thing.

Still, the Bay had provided in the end. That the provision had come in the form of a new company which wanted the raw materials of the Ship Graveyard had come as a surprise. That Danny Hebert, a man Jim had known since high school, was the head of that same company, was an even bigger surprise.

You could have pushed Jim over with a feather when he'd found out from Pete and Jerry that the Union had landed a contract that would likely provide work for the foreseeable future, literally years in this case. Then there had been the little tidbit that it was a new start up company located in Brockton Bay that was the source. Finally, almost as an afterthought, Pete had dropped the bomb that Danny was the CEO of HTech, the company in question.

How had ol' Danny landed such a cushy job, Jim wondered for the umpteenth time as he silently waited for the next load of iron which was finally starting to rise from the slightly skeletal ship? That the man he'd known for so many years would give his all to his new job, just as he'd done for the Dockworker's Union all these years, was a given. Still, Danny's hiring came as a surprise.

Less of a surprise was that Danny wouldn't forget about old friends, immediately sliding work their way. Jim had also heard that HTech had hired several of the younger guys as well as a few of the older, more skilled ones to work their assembly lines, paying pretty good money. He'd even contemplated joining them, confident that he could do the job, and knowing he had an in because of knowing the CEO.

In the end, though, Jim had stayed on the Docks. Like the Bay, it was his home. If the work here ever ceased, he might leave, but nothing else would persuade him to turn away. And if the money at HTech was good, so was the money for salvage jobs like this one. No, here Jim would stay, putting his all into his work, and hoping that someday, his city would be even more lively than it was today.

Jim's thoughts were interrupted by a nasal voice coming from behind him.

"What the fuck? What're you cunts doing in our place?"

Jim turned to see several of his crew eyeing a specimen of humanity so filthy that it was hard to tell where dirt left off and skin began. What skin wasn't covered by dirt wore tattoos, many of them vulgar and disgusting. Jim shook his head as he waited to see if what could only be a member of the Merchants spoke again. He didn't have long to wait.

"Fuck this and fuck you! This is our place! Get the fuck out, you douche bags!"

A couple of Jim's men began to mutter a bit at that insult. Was the dirty asexual being in front of him that stupid, he wondered? Maybe drugs had addled the... man's brains until he couldn't form a coherent thought. Regardless, he had made a mistake by confronting the burly workers that slowly surrounded him. It wouldn't be the first time, nor the last, that they'd laid a beating on someone like him.

No, Jim thought, not completely stupid. He watched as the Merchant's eyes widened in fear as he realized he was surrounded. Then bravado once more took the place of common sense and he yelled again, "Fuckin' shits! Skidmark's goin' to fuck you up if you don't get the fuck out of here! Dirty shit tur-"

Jim watched dispassionately as Billy and Capper knocked the Merchant down, then began putting the boots to him. It wasn't the first clash between the Union and one of the gangs, and likely wouldn't be the last. Most of them had come against the Merchants, but occasionally members of the ABB or Empire 88 had tried to move into the territory here at the Docks.

Fights between a group of men who held a deepset, simmering rage at not knowing where the next meal to feed their family was going to come from, against those who were perceived as being part of the problem, happened on a regular basis. The Union usually gave better than it received, its members big, muscular men who had worked hard all of their lives. That physicality, coupled with their intense anger, gave them a decent edge over their opponents. Of course, when the Parahumans got involved, which had so far only happened once, the tables were turned.

Unfortunately for the Merchant who was currently curled up in a ball and trying to avoid the worst of the kicks aimed his way, today wasn't one of those days. Jim watched in satisfaction a moment longer before calling them off, "Billy! Capper! Load coming in!"

The two men satisfied themselves with a final kick apiece and walked back to the group waiting as the next multi-ton slab of steel was lowered towards the flatbed. Jim started to join them, then hesitated next to the bloody Merchant who lay on the ground groaning with a theatrical loudness.

Jim leaned down slightly to speak to the man. "Don't come back here again, son, or you'll get worse. And you can tell Skidmark that he doesn't own the Docks. Or the Ship Graveyard. The Docks are ours. And the Graveyard's being salvaged by HTech. So you and your scummy boss can just go fuck off. Got it?"

For emphasis, he stepped on the hand that had started to extend its middle finger his way. Something broke under his size thirteen Timberland's and the Merchant made a sobbing, begging noise that Jim interpreted as agreement. With a final glare at the wreck of a human being who slowly began crawling away, he joined his men, gripping the steel still hot from the torches with his thick work gloves, trying to wrestle it into submission. As something ugly slowly relaxed its grip on his soul, Jim decided that today was truly a good day.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Sherrel stopped welding a moment as she heard the rage-filled diatribe happening a few dozen feet away.

"...fuckin' ass shit fuck whores. Goddamn fuck shits! Mother fucker! Ass turd lickin' faggots dipped in snot and fed to fuckin' shit eatin' pigs! Muther fuckin' cum drippin' douche bags! Fuckin' stinkin' cooter plugs! Fuck!"

Sherrel carefully climbed down from her perch on her latest creation. "Skidmark, honey, what's wrong?"

Mad eyes stared at her as his stringy dreads swung wildly. "Those cunts down at tha Docks! They fucked up Dung when he went to tell 'em to clear out. Fucked him bad! They dissed us, Squeals, the Merchants! They dissed me! Arrrggghhh!" He kicked a chair and sent it flying, then ran up and did it again, blue bands sailing out just before his foot made contact, so that the chair had triple the velocity of the first kick, leaving it shattered against the nearest wall.

Sherrel felt her own angry start to simmer as she contemplated Skidmark's words. "What do you want to do?"

Skidmark shouted, "I want to fuck them up! I want to knock their teeth out and send those fuckers flyin' like fuckin' rice at a fuckin' weddin'! I want to fuck those sloppy cunt faces in the ass so hard they bleed for a fuckin' month! Fuck them all! Fuck! Fuck!" He jumped on the black couch and lying face down, began savagely punching it, screaming out his rage the entire time.

Sherrel felt uneasy, despite her own slowly growing anger. She couldn't ever remember seeing Skid so upset. She was careful not to get too close or he might take it out on her as the most convenient target.

It took almost ten minutes before Skidmark's fit of rage began to pass. Finally, he raised his head and stared at Sherrel.

"I want to fuck up those cunts at the dock tonight. I want to burn down the Docks and every cunt fucker one of them there. They'll need shit bags when we're through with them. Got me?"

Sherrel started to nod, then paused. "Uhh, Skids?"

"Yeah?"

"They'll all be home by tonight. Less you plan to start burnin' down the neighborhoods, we'll miss them all."

Skidmark abruptly stood up and seemed to cross the room in an instant, aided by yet another band of blue, before roughly grabbing her arm. For a moment, Sherrel thought Skidmark was going to hit her as the fingers of his free hand spasmed. It wouldn't be the first time, after all. His intense stare, made far scarier by his blown pupils, met her own. "What's your idea?"

What idea, she wondered? Taking another look at his eyes, Sherrel thought fast. Tentatively, she said, "We could fuck up that place that's making this happen. That company that they're talkin' about. HTech. That's it. Fuck that place up bad. Burn it down."

Skidmark's free hand rose to squeeze her throat. "You got a rig ready?"

Sherrel knew what he wanted to hear. And, after all, it would be mostly ready by tonight. "It's ready."

Skidmark ground himself against her, a smile creasing his features. "That's what we'll do, then. Burn that place down. We burn 'em and beat 'em and fuck 'em in the ass. We can get those Dock fuckers later. Fuck yeah. Good job, Squealer baby"

Almost casually he pushed Sherrel to her knees. She knew what he wanted and unzipping him, quickly took him into her mouth. A sense of relief far outweighed the rank flavor. Violence had been averted for now.

A few minutes later, Sherrel rose to her feet, wiping her mouth. Skidmark's face was far more relaxed now. His manic grin was calmer as well. Then he shook all over like a dog. Slowly a more focused look came over his face as he patted Sherrel on the ass, hurrying her on her way. "Go and get your big rig ready. We're going to fuck up those greasy-ass shit-fucks tonight! Oh yeah we are!"

Skidmark jumped onto a nearby table and began to shout, "Gather around, ya shit bricks! We're going out..."

Sherrel blocked out the rest of Skidmark's diatribe, anxious to hurry and finish her ride. It was the biggest and most badass truck yet, although she already had plans for something bigger and nastier in her head.

As she tightened a coupling, blueprints for something resembling a land yacht began to dance in front of her eyes. It would fast, large, and powerful. Maybe she could even get that camouflage to work? No. Grimly, Sherrel shook her head. It would need to wait for now. But only for now. Soon, she would build it. Maybe beginning even as early as tomorrow.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

On a throne of iron, a man sat brooding, his chin resting on his right palm. He should have been dwarfed by the structure upon which he rested, but somehow managed to dominate the area through his sheer presence. It was something that he made sure of every day. "Are you certain, my friend?"

The shirtless man nodded and spoke, "Ja, Herr Kaiser. Our spy within their ranks has provided confirmation. The ABB moves tonight."

Kaiser continued to consider the matter. There were advantages and disadvantages to both action and inaction. But in the end, he could not allow a loss of face to the subhumans. No, Lung and his ilk could not be allowed to triumph. Plus, the prize was simply too valuable to be lost to them.

Standing, Kaiser commanded, "Stormtiger, take Cricket and as many men as you deem necessary. Provide the subhumans a lesson. Show no mercy. Teach them through blood and pain and loss that the Empire is not to be trifled with." He considered, then added, "If you come across the person we are seeking, bring them to me."

Stormtiger waited a few seconds, and when no more orders were forthcoming, raised his right hand in a gesture recognized the world over. Then with a nod to Cricket, he strode off with her following behind.

A slow smile creased Kaiser's face. Tonight's mission would be a resounding success. The Beast would not stir for so trivial a mission and the ABB members there would wither without Parahuman support. Empire 88 would emerge from the chaos looking more dominant than ever. Face would be gained in the endless war of oneupmanship they carried on against the other Parahuman gangs.

If the Protectorate stirred, they would likely be ineffectual. But just to make sure, Kaiser decided he would help his people by creating a diversion. "Menja, Fenja, I have a mission for you..."

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Jin had volunteered to work an extra shift that night. Many workers did so to earn overtime so it was nothing unusual. Now, as he stared out at the bustling floor of the factory where so many were still working, he felt a pang of regret for the path his life had taken.

For a moment, he wished more than anything that this was his life. That he could work at a normal job and come home to his family afterwards. That his joys were ordinary ones, not the highs and lows of gang life. Jin felt a deepening sadness, as he realized that this existence would never be his.

Jin had chosen his path two years before when he'd joined the ABB rather than accept yet another beating by gang members. His first meeting with Lung had hammered home that he had closed off all other avenues. His master, Lung, the living dragon, had left him awed and terrified him from that initial meeting. Jin could no more disobey his master than empty the oceans with a bucket.

Tonight, he would pay the price for both his fear and his loyalty.

Jin had spread the strange organic explosives he'd gotten from Bakuda around the plant, partially for cover and partially as a distraction, as there was not enough to truly destroy the place. He'd had to sacrifice his lunch and dinner hours to do so and now his stomach rumbled noisily. After all, doing so had taken all of the spare time from both shifts. But the slimy explosives with their tiny detonators were all in place and ready for the next step.

Jin nervously fingered the smooth metal of the transmitter in his pocket. His men would arrive in less than thirty minutes. At the designated time, he would begin detonating the explosives, both providing them with an in, as well as a distraction.

His men would penetrate the factory, installing their own greater loads of explosives and detonators, while Jin searched for the object of his master's desire. Then, at the designated time, they would run, as would he. Except that as he left, Jin would detonate all of the remaining explosives, destroying the entire factory complex and killing anyone left inside.

It was a messy plan and one with tremendous collateral damage. But Jin knew that it was his only chance for survival. If he found the object he sought, then it was all to the good, and he would not need to destroy everything. But no matter what, Jin had to deny the object to his master's enemies.

If the object was destroyed, his master might be merciful. Should Empire 88 recover the object, his life would not be worth a pig's fart.

With one final look at the men and women around him, many of whom would die shortly, Jin turned to his foreman and bowed, asking, "May I use the bathroom, Reiser-san?"

The supervisor, whose security tag read Paul Reiser, frowned but nodded. "Go ahead, Lee. You sure you're feeling okay? You've spent a lot of time in the crapper today."

Jin nodded, then bowed again. "I apologize, Reiser-san. I will work harder to make up for it when I return."

Paul Reiser waved his apology off, his look one of concern. "No worries, Lee. Just take care of yourself."

Jin turned and made his way across the factory floor to the area that held the restrooms. The only concession he'd made to keeping the death toll among his fellow workers down was that he would first detonate the explosives he'd planted on the far side of the factory floor, among the finished merchandise there. That would hopefully funnel the men and women working here out the exits. If not...

Jin shrugged. He couldn't protect everyone. Slipping into an unoccupied stall, he pulled the transmitter, which most resembled a flat pack of gum, from his pocket. With a final glance at his watch, he squeezed the first of several pieces, listening for the loud sound of a detonation.

WHUMPH!

And so it began.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor almost nodded off as she welded the last of the armor pieces together using a chem catalyst welder. It was soothing to do simple work using just her hands and muscles, work that she could do in her sleep. Work that didn't require any thought beyond an understanding of how to put together a multi-million dollar suit of highly advanced combat armor.

Of course, when she thought about it that way, it wasn't soothing at all. With a frown, she turned her focus to the task at hand. While JARVIS could likely do a slightly more precise job, he was busy working on the drones for both the factory, as well as the more advanced drones that were being built to aid her.

Glancing towards the automated machinery that dominated all of one end of her lab, Taylor could see yet another of the powerful drones that protected HTech float off of the assembly line. This one would be heading off to one of the three satellite factories that HTech was building in towns that were at least a hundred miles inland from Brockton Bay.

After much thought and argument between the three of them, Taylor, Trish, and Danny had decided that putting all of their eggs in one basket was insane. So HTech had purchased factory facilities in three much smaller cities and was slowly converting them to make the company's products.

One would produce drones, another the psionic dampeners, while the third had not been set. But Taylor was certain-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the dull boom of an explosion. Taylor felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as Tony's memories supplied the likely cause. Planted explosives.

Taylor's eyes quickly glanced around the lab, then she grabbed the first thing she thought she could use, a forearm assembly from the partially built suit in front of her. She gave a quick, regretful glance towards the almost finished armor, then shook her head. No point in dwelling on might have beens, she decided.

After a quick check to make sure it could actually fire, energy supplied by two ARC reactors on either side of the armor module's wrist, Taylor placed her hand and forearm into the thirty pound module. With a grunt, she heaved it up. Then, without a backward glance, Taylor headed towards the source of the explosion.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~