Lisa and I race through the night streets on my black motorcycle, she presses against me from behind, hugging me tightly around the waist, and maybe in other circumstances this would turn me on, but not today. Because today, despite the nighttime hour, people have poured onto the streets, hurrying to reach shelters, because flying capes streak overhead, because the roads have instantly filled with cars that came out of nowhere. And that's exactly why Lisa and I jumped on the motorcycle - there's no other way to get there, cars are stuck in traffic jams, honking angrily. I can see some people abandoning them in panic to walk, which only makes the traffic situation worse.
People in panic, people on the streets, people hurrying, bustling and thereby hindering each other. If everyone were like my insects - obedient to my power - I would have packed them into shelters in twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour...
Rain pours from above and this is very bad. Leviathan is a hydrokinetic, he gains advantage in water, and Brockton Bay already sits on the bay shore... and now there's water from the sky too.
"Go right! We can't get through here!" Lisa shouts in my ear, pointing ahead: "Traffic jam!"
"Got it." I lean into a right turn, ride onto the sidewalk, miraculously not hitting anyone, and gun it when I see a gap between the cars. We race toward the main base. I'm worried about Dad but not too intensely - after all, immediately after the siren, the team that was stationed at my house evacuated him. Now they're heading to the same place.
I steer the motorcycle toward the entrance of an inconspicuous parking garage. Metal doors open before me. Lights turn on. Now down the ramp and another turn. Done. I jump off the motorcycle, Lisa follows. Elevator door. Down button.
"I never thought this would happen to us," I say: "I mean, Brockton Bay... how many people live here total? Four hundred thousand?"
"Three hundred fifty, according to the latest data from two years ago," Lisa tosses back: "and I'm sure the numbers have decreased since the last census. Brockton Bay, jewel of the coast... hardly the most attractive city in the country."
"I thought Endbringers usually choose larger population centers... though, yeah, Newfoundland..." I say. The elevator stops and the doors open with a short musical sound. We enter the corridor of Coil's main base. No commotion here - people with focused faces move cargo on carts, they recognize me and nod.
I grab Rodriguez by the sleeve as she pushes a cart with elongated green boxes together with some grim-looking man. The boxes are labeled "Handle with Care!" with arrows indicating which way is up.
"Mama! Where's my father?" I ask her. She looks up from her box and nods further down the corridor.
"Arrived five minutes ago," she says: "Sorry, boss, but I'm busy. We still need to take positions, and rocket launchers don't deploy themselves."
"Rocket launchers?" I look at the elongated boxes. Anti-tank guided missiles. Any other time I would have been outraged - such weapons in the city limits, obvious overkill, too much and all that. How can you fire rocket launchers in a city?!
But not today. Today I look at the green boxes approvingly and nod. For all his faults, Coil always followed special forces tactics and never skimped on an extra grenade or a control shot to the head. Having large caliber weapons in reserve never hurts, because you can never have too much firepower. It's always easier to refrain from using weapons you already have than to use weapons you don't have.
I look around. Lisa has already gone ahead, I hurry after her. The briefing room, of course. In the room sit my father and Coil, aka Thomas Calvert currently. Instead of a cape costume or usual office jacket with tie and white shirt, he's clad in black tactical armor, with spare rifle magazines on his chest, a nine-millimeter SOCOM on his belt, a knife, spare clips and some pouches... grenade pouches? I've never seen him in such an outfit and have to admit it suits him. He's like a fish in water... well of course, what did I expect? He's a veteran, a former Tier 5 operator of the PRT's special assault unit.
"Dad!" I rush to Danny and hurriedly hug him: "Are you okay?"
"Miss Hebert," Thomas Calvert says dryly: "Please help me convince your father to evacuate from the city immediately. We have everything ready."
"Evacuation? Not a bad idea." The city of course has shelters for just such occasions, but honestly, it's like the basement at our school - more for show. Not to mention that Coil's main base itself is built on the foundation of such a former shelter... for a second I feel a pang of guilt, because civilians could have been placed here... but now isn't the time to think about that. Nothing can be changed now, Coil's base has long been converted and civilians have no place here... especially if you remember Kyushu. An entire island sank, and that's the third largest of all Japanese islands, almost ten million victims, seven major cities... what the hell shelters. After Endbringers there remained scorched wasteland if it was Behemoth, a crater filled with water if it was Leviathan... and quarantine zones if it was the Simurgh. No shelters ever helped. What are they for then? Very simple - so there's no panic. People need instructions, like those Cold War pamphlets about what to do in case of nuclear war. For example - hide under a desk, or if you're in the open - lie with your feet toward the explosion... but it's all just so that in their final minutes people are busy with something and don't panic or get underfoot. So a shelter against an Endbringer is trying to hide from a storm behind a sheet of paper.
And if Danny is taken far from here... Coil has a helicopter! Roads are clogged, solid traffic jams, but there's a helicopter. Load him in there and take him inland, and after the battle...
"No," Danny says, straightening up: "Maybe I can't help many, I'm an ordinary person, but... I understand correctly - you're all going to fight?"
"Yes, but... everyone present here has abilities. Except you, Mr. Hebert. Our people have received special training. And still, operators won't participate in the battle with the Endbringer, it's meaningless. And suicidal. Their task is coordination, rescue and evacuation." Calvert deliberately omits the fact that operators are already placing rocket launchers on building rooftops in the city limits near the Bay. And I agree with him - no need for Danny to know about that.
"My daughter will fight the Endbringer, and I'll run to save my ass? No way. You have enough weapons here, I can help. I served in the army once. Marines. Separate Thirty-Seventh."
"I see." Calvert looks up from studying the map and glances at me quickly, hesitating for a second. I don't understand what exactly he wants...
"In that case, you're under my command, Private Hebert," he says: "Get uniform and weapons from the armory, third door down the corridor. Report to Sergeant Pokacki. Clear? Move out!" He pronounces the last word in such a way that I myself want to stand at attention and salute.
"Yes sir." Danny straightens up and puts his palm to his temple: "Will comply!" And he swiftly exits the room. Thomas raises tired eyes to me.
"He needs to be evacuated," he says: "I'll give orders to put him on the helicopter's machine gun... then let them make an emergency landing in the mountains to the north. We don't need the helicopter right now anyway."
"Thank you... Mr. Calvert."
"Just Thomas is fine, Miss Hebert."
"Then just Taylor."
"Absolutely not," he shakes his head: "That won't do, boss. Chain of command exists for a reason. In any case... and here she is!" Bakuda enters the briefing room. She's nervous and clenches her fingers in fingerless gloves.
"Everything's ready," she says: "Everything I managed to make this week. As you requested, boss - everything small, except two. No bigger than a pea, your insects can definitely carry them. But the last two items... there's no way to make them smaller." Behind her, several boxes roll in on carts.
"Items twenty-one, seventeen and forty-two. Red ones stop time in a radius of several meters. Blue ones are acid converters... it's not even acid, I don't know what to call it. Everything turns to glass and quickly crumbles to pieces. Brown ones are meat grinders. And finally purple and green ones - disintegration. They work differently, but the result is roughly the same," she says, opening the boxes. The boxes look like they're filled with colorful M&Ms, only sorted by color first.
"Disc shape is better than just a sphere," she says somewhat defensively: "And it's easier to carry and won't interfere aerodynamically as much..."
"Charge initiation?" I ask. My insects are already studying the small discs - well, they're small to me, but to them they're their own size.
"No control mechanisms. Detonation occurs when the casing deforms. There are spots on the side where the casing is lightened, just right for mandibles to squeeze," she says and I nod. Excellent.
"And..." She takes another step toward the next cart, stepping carefully, trying not to step on my insects - they still frighten her.
"These two items. 'Fat Man' and 'Little Boy'" - on the second cart is a large box. In the box are two objects. One looks more like a sphere, the size of a soccer ball, and the second resembles an American football in both shape and size - lenticular shaped.
"The insects can't deliver these," she says: "I... made them in my free time... just in case, you understand?"
"Your guarantee?" I examine the objects. They're metallic with some technological hatches and tool recesses. The one that looks like a rugby ball - I can throw quite far and accurately, the shape itself suggests a throw like American football, spinning it around its axis. The second will be more difficult, but I have the Butcher's strength, so I'll manage.
"No, that's not true!" she shakes her head: "I like it here with you. Everything's good, and no one... hurts me. You gave me time and a laboratory. I've even made friends with people here. This really is just in case... like I felt Leviathan would show up."
"Good. What do these things do?"
"It's... a very powerful explosion, boss. 'Fat Man' and 'Little Boy.'"
"Nuclear weapons cannot exist on this planet. Scion would immediately know and blow everything to dust," I say, examining the "items." Bakuda's reference to the nuclear bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki is completely transparent. She's Japanese, after all, it matters to her. Maybe that's why Lung tormented her - Chinese don't really like Japanese after Nanking.
"These bombs aren't nuclear," Bakuda assures me: "But they have no less power. Maybe even more - I was forbidden from field testing."
"Of course," Thomas joins the conversation: "Where would I find her a testing ground for such a thing? They'd hang us all by the balls. 'Little Boy' is just very powerful, and 'Fat Man' triggers a chain reaction of disintegration."
"Bakuda, you did good," Lisa says, approaching the box and placing her hand on the "Little Boy" item: "We didn't recruit you for nothing after all. And don't worry, you won't participate in combat."
"But..."
"No buts. You're too valuable an asset. Coil?" Lisa turns to Calvert. He grimaces. He doesn't like when she addresses him so familiarly, but can't do anything about it. Chain of command is in his blood, and by my order Lisa is above everyone in my group, even above him. So... he has to endure.
"Miss Hideoshi, you report to Sergeant Pokacki, get everything necessary and evacuate from the city by helicopter. Execute," Calvert says curtly and Bakuda involuntarily straightens and nods. It's not for nothing that Coil has behind him not just service in PRT special forces, but service specifically in a command position - commander of an assault unit is no joke.
"Now about us," he turns to me: "I suggest keeping Miss Wilbourn as far from the battlefield as possible, but transmitting maximum information to her. Command post would be perfect."
"I wasn't planning to charge with bayonet fixed anyway," Lisa responds.
"However, we all need to register as capes who will participate in the battle and get identification and communication bracelets," Coil says: "The Travelers and Undersiders are already in place. We still have time, change clothes and take equipment. As soon as the helicopter with Mr. Hebert and Miss Hideoshi takes off - it's our turn." He takes a helmet with armored mask from the table and holds it under his arm. He looks us over.
"Miss Hebert. Boss," he says: "Break a leg."
"Same to you, Coil," I respond. Break a leg? Seriously? Like we're going to an amateur play. But I shouldn't expect sentimental nonsense from him. This man is capable of terrible things - he tortured Tattletale in other realities and not just Tattletale. He was going to kidnap the mayor's niece and keep her on drugs to make her manageable. As for adults, capes or not - he felt no mercy. A fanatic. A man who won't spare himself or others on the path to his goal.
Excellent. That's exactly what I need. As long as our goals align - I don't need to worry about him. He's a snake, that's a fact. But he's my snake.
"Miss Wilbourn," he nods his head. A mocking smile crosses Lisa's lips.
"Coil," she nods. He swiftly exits the room. She turns to me.
"Well then? Getting changed? Need help? Buttons on the back to fasten..."
"Lisa! Now's not the time!" I say. Here are the boxes with brand new "Ronin," ultra-light assault armor. I shed my clothes and change, catching a mocking glance. I don't pay attention - it's her being nervous. Lisa's worried, and when Lisa worries - everything turns into sarcasm and mockery. I'll endure it. Nothing terrible. We have ahead of us - battle with an Endbringer.
"Mortality rate during battles with Leviathan averages twenty-five point eight percent," Lisa says: "Every fourth person... please try not to die, Taylor."
"I didn't have such plans," I straighten up and take the helmet with armored mask: "And you still owe me, Lisa. As soon as I return - punishment awaits you."
"For what?!"
"And who posted a photo of my chest on Parahumans Online?!"
"It'll give you popularity, you'll see!"
"When I return, young lady, we'll have quite a lengthy conversation..." I say and put the helmet on my head. Fasteners, power, I check range of motion by tilting my head left and right.
"Break a leg," she smirks crookedly: "But only a leg! Please."
"You talk like I might die. I'm Butcher Fifteen. If Leviathan kills me - then I'll become Leviathan. You'll have a girlfriend who's an Endbringer."
"This isn't a joke, Tay-Tay. I'm afraid it won't work that way with an Endbringer. But... yes, indeed. You're Butcher Fifteen after all. And also Seventeenth of the line. And of course - Administrator. Hah."
"Exactly. Put on your costume." I watch as she dons her tight lavender outfit and wonder - what the hell is she wearing leotards for? We have plenty of armor sets at the base, if she likes the color so much, paint one lavender and that's it. Let her wear it.
She catches my look and coquettishly moves her shoulder, pulling the top of her costume over it.
"Oh come on," she says: "I'll stay here in the command post. I'll watch you all on screens. The most that threatens me here is boredom."
"Next time I'm definitely putting you in armor," I say: "You're too valuable an asset, Lisa."
"Yeah right," she squints: "Go on, Coil is waiting for you there. The containers with insects have already been loaded aboard. Kiss before you go?"
"Yep." I take a step and kiss her goodbye. Her lips are dry and smell like fresh apples.
"Break a leg, Lisa," I say, pulling away: "But only one."
"Will do, boss." The mocking smile returns.