Note: Thanks again for taking the time to leave a comment or review. Worm is Wildbow's and Tomb Raider is Crystal Dynamics.
2.1
March 15, 2013 - 8:32am. Achievements: Complete each requirement to get the specified trophy. A Survivor Is Born - Complete the game. Silver - Adventurer - Complete a match in all multiplayer modes. Bronze - Archaeologist - Collect 75% of all relics. Bronze - Artilleryman - Kill 20 enemy players in multiplayer using a turret.
'Are you sure this is what you want to do?' Dad asked as we sat there in the car two blocks away from the PRT building.
I released a cleansing breath and shook my head. 'Not at all, but I have a feeling it'll only get worse if I don't confront them now.'
He didn't seem too pleased when we talked over dinner. The whole idea of Lisa popping up with all her information didn't sit well with him; he thought it was just as fishy as I did, but there was too much truth behind what she said. Given that the top capes in Brockton Bay had gone out of the way to set a situation up centered solely on me was scary enough.
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'I'll be more than happy to give Sara a call. Her father offered any sort of legal defense we needed for what you went through to save his little girl. I know I'd do the same for her if the situation was reversed.'
I nodded. 'It might come to that, but I figured if it's just me in there, without you or a lawyer, then they can't make me legally sign anything. They wouldn't have any leverage except for threats. If that happens then we can give her a call. I just want… his guns and to get them off my back.'
He pressed his lips together. 'We're locking those things up… you do realize that, don't you?'
The axe, the bow, the pepper spray, rape horn, and even the punch daggers he was completely fine with, but introduce pistols into the mix and all bets were off. I kind of understood his reasoning. He just doesn't understand mine.
'As long as I can clean them up first,' I tacked on the end of his ultimatum.
'Deal… in my presence, of course.'
With an eye roll I popped the door open. 'Wish me luck.'
'You know I do, kiddo.'
I rolled my shoulders to ease the tension out. My neck was cold. I wasn't about to walk up to the front desk wearing one of those stupid domino masks. Instead, I bound up my most distinguishing feature into a tight French braid with a couple of flat-ironed wisps of hair hanging on either side of my head. A pair of oversized polarized-lens sunglasses covered at least a third of my face. It was amazing how much that changed how I looked.
I suppose if there was anyone around that really knew me then they'd be able to pick me out of a crowd, but for the most part I was just another weirdo that wore sunglasses at night. With all my toys in my pack and my new ice pick hanging off my hip, I felt pretty decent.
It wasn't even a single block before I heard something, like gravel being stepped on from up above. I jerked back and the pick was in my hand as I saw a human shaped shadow swooping down from above and onto the sidewalk ahead of me. It spun around and formed into a solid.
Black outfit, black plating, a woman's face frozen into a stern image for a mask, and a pair of undersized crossbows holstered by her sides; it had to be Shadow Stalker, Brockton Bay's newest Ward.
'Hebert?'
What the hell? Does everybody know who I am? 'I'm not here to fight.'
'I figured,' she replied. 'What's up with the shiny axe a block away from the PRT building?'
Glancing down, I replaced it on the clasp at my hip. 'Protection.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Look, I'm heading to the PRT. They won't leave me alone until I talk to them, so I'm here to talk.'
She stiffened. 'Really? Crap. Uh, can you maybe do this tomorrow?'
'No. I want to get this over with.'
She looked back to the building and seemed edgy about something. 'Look, Piggot's already gone home for the evening. That's the Director. She's the one you really need to talk to.'
I shrugged. 'I don't really care who I talk to, just as long as it's done and over with. Any adult cape will do.'
Shadow Stalker sighed. 'Can I talk to you for a second over here, in private?'
That was kind of weird, but she was a Ward. They were supposedly the good guys, not that there seemed to be a whole lot of difference between the good and bad guys over the last few weeks.
'I guess.'
The alleyway was relatively clean. I mean there wasn't trash blowing down the way or any stinky dumpsters hiding kids with crack pipes behind them. Still, I kept my only real weapon well away from her, just in case.
'Look. You know about the unwritten rule about not exposing a cape's identity?'
I shook my head. 'They didn't cover that in class, no.' Pixatool 1 54 – create 8bit pixel style images banner.
Her hands went to her hips. 'You get in a fight with someone and beat them down. Even if you win, you don't unmask them. Hero, rogue, villain, you respect their privacy. Keeps cape's families safe, gives them a private life.'
'Okay.' That seemed reasonable.
She shifted, uneasily and looked around again. 'Thing is, I know your real identity.'
I had to raise an eyebrow at that lame revelation. 'I kind of figured seeing as you called me by my name and all.'
'Yeah.'
'I really don't have a lot of time tonight. I still have homework to do.'
Whatever she was worried about, it was starting to work on my nerves as well.
'I was a vigilante before. Did some bad shit, 'cause I didn't know any better. Nothing crazy… just… whatever. That's why I joined the Wards, to straighten myself out.'
Why was I having a cape telling me her life story in the middle of the night in a dark alley?
'Thing is, I was kind of a bitch in my private life too.' She paused. 'I'm changing that. I started this morning in school. Problem is that I burned a lot of bridges and it ain't exactly easy to rebuild them.'
'Why….'
It sounded like she growled as she ducked her head. 'Fuck this. Can I escort you inside? I'll cut through all the bullshit security stuff for you.'
'Uh… I guess?'
Okay, that was by far the weirdest conversation I've ever had. Shadow Stalker turned and started toward my destination, taking long determined strides for almost half the distance. The outside of the building was well lit and from the amount of foot traffic I assumed it was shift change or something. It explained why a hero was patrolling so close to her headquarters. She was probably on her way out to stalk things in some other part of town.
Oh my fucking god. 'You go to Winslow.'
Shadow Stalker came to an abrupt halt and spun on me with a pointed finger, but she didn't say anything at first. I could almost imagine her face behind the mask. The height was right; the build behind the costume was close enough from what I could see. Her choice of vocabulary was spot on. It had to be her.
'Like I said. I'm trying to be a better person.'
I was torn between taking my axe and splitting her skull open and rewinding to the morning when she told Emma to back off. Even the way she treated me in Strength class wasn't any better or worse than I've seen her treating Emma or Madison. It was probably her default setting or something equally as inane.
'You gonna use that?' she asked.
I looked down and saw that my knuckles were already turning white with the pressure I was exerting on the grip of the axe handle.
'You were the one that as watching me at school,' I snapped.
'Yep. Part of the job description. They wanted to make sure you were safe around the kiddies or some shit. After Strength class I figured you went through worse shit on that island than I did with my trigger, so I made my report and let it be.'
'You were a plant.'
'I was there either which way,' she said. 'I was supposed to get you to reveal your powers or get you into the Wards somehow, whatever. Bringing you in voluntarily pins a shiny gold star on my report card, so I can get off shit duties.'
Forcing my fingers to drop the axe was a little more difficult than one would imagine after that revelation.
'I don't owe you anything.'
Sophia didn't move. 'Yeah. I guess you're right.'
She turned and resumed at a much more sedate pace, and after a few moments I followed. When we reached the front doors they automatically opened and then closed as soon as I stepped through. I had a feeling that this closed space would make a good trap if unauthorized personnel decided to crash the place. I spotted little slits in the upper corners that could easily fall away and spit out containment foam to its heart's desire.
When the inner doors opened the person at the front desk looked at Sophia oddly for a moment before he saw me.
Rectangular shaped lobby; gift shop to the left; front desk dead center; some type of closed office to the right, from the darkness underneath the door the lights are off; doors saddling either side behind the desk, probably to different areas of the building, public and private; two guards not counting the guy behind the counter, armed, standard nine millimeter pistols, and tinker tech tasers; sprinkler system is fake, nozzles behind them are too thick for water, most likely containment foam sprayers as well, twelve in all on swivels, multi-directional.
Obviously, coming through the front door to assault this place would be a very bad idea.
'Shit,' the guard on the left whispered.
I heard a soft click from his direction. The alert's gone out. Sophia didn't even get a chance to say anything, at least not yet.
'Get Miss Militia. Tell her Juggernaut is here for debriefing.'
The guards shifted, one out in the open, the other taking the front desk as provisional cover. My hand hovered just above the axe, relaxed but ready. The sprayer nozzles closest to me swiveled quietly.
'Stand the fuck down before she turns this place into a slaughterhouse,' Sophia snapped. 'She's here voluntarily.'
Yeah, I could just imagine how this would have gone down if I simply walked in off the street. Sophia turned around, facing me, and crossed her arms.
'You've already got a serious rep on the PRT grapevine. Can you at least try to look like you aren't going to snap and kill everybody if someone farts a little too loud?'
Was I that intimidating? Maybe it was the outfit. I was just wearing cargo pants and a double cami. The scars at my shoulder and arm probably didn't send a soft and sensitive message, but still.
The door on the right almost slammed open and my hand twitched to grab a hold of my axe, but that would probably lead to bad things happening.
'Shadow Stalker,' Miss Militia said as she made her way out in full cape guise. 'Jugg… Miss Hebert. We weren't expecting you tonight. It's after business hours and the Director isn't here to speak to you herself.'
I glanced at Sophia and somewhere deep inside I knew I was going to regret doing this, but taking point to get me past security without expecting anything in return might have said something regarding her sincerity about trying to not be an irrepressible bitch anymore.
'A friend talked me into coming in. I insisted it be done as soon as possible, so we don't have anymore… incidents like this afternoon. She tried talking me into doing it tomorrow morning, but…'
Miss Militia nodded in understanding as she eyed Sophia. 'Well, if you don't mind talking to me?'
'You'll be fine. There's a condition though. I don't get what I want then I'm right back out the door and you guys can pound sand.'
Her eyebrows rose a little. 'I can't guarantee anything, but I'll listen.'
'My pistols the PRT stole from me in LA. They were given to me. I have the paperwork with me to prove it, all nice and legal. I want them back before I say anything tonight.'
I could see the wince. 'That's solely the purview of the Director. I don't have the authority.'
'Does she have a phone?'
It was obvious that she was uncomfortable for some reason. Maybe Lisa was right and there was a shit storm today at PRT central.
'Unless there is an emergency we try to let people have personal lives outside the office.'
I tongued the side of my mouth. 'Oh. Yeah, I get that. I tried to have a personal life myself a couple months back; took a vacation and everything, saw the world, killed a shitload of people. Then someone stole my guns. Would you please stop inching out of my line of sight!'
That last part was directed to the guard on my left at a little bit higher volume than normal.
Sophia spoke low enough for me to hear. 'I got your back.'
That really didn't fill me with a whole lot of confidence.
'Miss Hebert…' Miss Militia started.
'I thought it was Killdozer?'
Sophia snorted.
She seemed to deflate a little. 'Gains, see if you can contact the Director. Patch it through to the conference room. Miss Hebert, if you'd like to come this way. Perhaps some coffee while we wait?
2.2
It seems to be a common misconception that I don't drink coffee. I prefer tea; a lot of times it's just not available. Given that, the coffee at the PRT building could probably test my body's healing talent against strong acids. I could almost chew the stuff before I drowned it in one percent milk and five packets of sugar.
'Sorry,' Miss Militia apologized. 'The night shift prefers it a little strong.'
I shrugged. 'Probably why they're so twitchy tonight.'
She made a noncommittal noise before asking, 'While we're waiting for the Director's call, may I see the paperwork you spoke of, just to speed things along.'
Setting the cup aside I reached into my pack and pulled out the probate papers, sliding them across the table.
'Page fifteen, in the middle. I inherited all his personal property. The pistols are listed in the back, page seventeen, along with the serial numbers.'
Miss Militia flipped through the stack to the appropriate pages and made some notes.
'Do you mind if I ask what your relationship was to Mr. Roth?' Seeing my frown she clarified. 'You understand that are a mountain of questions regarding every aspect of the Endurance's mission to Yamatai, such as why a fifteen year old Brockton Bay resident was in attendance.'
I stewed for a few moments, but in the end knew I'd have to talk about certain aspects of the trip if I wanted things to go my way.
'He was an unofficial uncle, a very old friend of my mother. He didn't have any children and virtually everything he owned was tied up in Endurance. Since she died a few years ago, he made sure that I was taken care of when Dad wasn't able. He… spoiled me.'
The growing knot in my throat was almost unbearable by this time.
'I'd been having trouble at school with bullies. Roth – he didn't like to be called anything else – he, um, offered a place on the ship so I could get away from it all. Six weeks away from Brockton Bay and Winslow. I could be anyone I wanted to be and nobody would have to know who I was here. So, I was a deck hand.'
I snorted and took off my sunglasses to set them aside.
'Like I actually did any work. He…'
We were interrupted by the telephone shrilling an electronic ring that made me almost jump out of my seat. Miss Militia hit a button.
'Director, you're on speaker with myself and Miss Hebert.'
Before she spoke I could hear her clear her throat. 'Miss Hebert, on behalf of the PRT I want to apologize for the actions of the Protectorate this afternoon. It was an unsanctioned mission that I was not made aware of until after the fact. The person responsible has been punished and is still awaiting review from further up the line.'
It looked as if Lisa was right once again. 'Apology accepted.'
'Hmm, I've been informed of your requirement for a briefing. I was told you have some proof of ownership for the items in question?'
Miss Militia broke in. 'Probate papers, Director. I've reviewed them. I need to confirm the serial numbers, but if they check out then they are hers through inheritance.'
'Copy the pertinent pages for our records and if the numbers check out, pass them on to her. I would prefer your father receive them, Miss Hebert or at least something in writing by him giving you consent. New Hampshire may have lenient carry laws, but they are very specific when it comes to minors. Your father has the final say.'
I nodded to the phone. 'I'll call him.'
'Very well.' There was a brief pause. 'While I would like to be there for this personally, I understand your reasoning for getting this out of the way. Perhaps if you have a chance to stop by during the day sometime… I'll leave you in the capable hands of Miss Militia.'
'Thank you, Director,' I replied.
Miss Militia stared at the phone, looking at it oddly for a moment; the line dropped after that and the speaker was disconnected.
'She was nice,' I observed.
Something obviously wasn't going the way she thought it would. I noticed by the minor shake of her head. 'Yes, the Director is… a people person, sort of.'
After reconnecting she arranged for whatever was needed to have the pistols processed and then returned her attention to me.
'Is everything satisfactory?'
I nodded. 'What do you want to know?'
She shifted a tablet in front of her and tapped a few icons. 'August twenty-fourth Yamatai incident debriefing; Taylor Hebert, temporary designation Juggernaut and Miss Militia present. Miss Hebert, do I have your permission to record the briefing?'
I shouldn't have been surprised, but it wasn't like there was a stenographer hanging out with us. 'Uh, yeah, I guess.'
'Thank you. The other survivors have given the details of the shipwreck and how it occurred. Would you mind starting on Yamatai where you were separated from them?'
After clearing my throat I began. 'I patched myself up from some injuries as well as I could. Then I got kidnapped… things… happened.'
Describing the next few hours, hanging upside-down, wrapped in some old fishing net, it wasn't something that I thought I could talk about.
'This is when you triggered?' she asked.
I just nodded.
'Okay, those of us that have experienced these things first hand already know how bad it can get. If you want to start after?'
'They were going to kill me. There wasn't much else I could do when I got out of the net. It was either them or me. I chose me.'
Letting that sit there on the table was pretty much the meat of it. It was the basis for virtually all my decisions, up until I found out Sam was kidnapped.
Miss Militia made an encouraging noise with her throat. 'The most recent body count is hovering in the 380 range. Can you give me any specific details about how you went about, um…'
'Taking them out?'
She nodded. 'Sure.'
'Well, at first I made a jury-rigged bow and arrow set.'
'Do you have much experience making your own weapons?'
I shrugged. 'It's a bow and some arrows. I mean how hard can it be?'
She made a notation and then looked up at me. 'For someone with no experience in weapons-making, quite difficult actually. Only certain types of wood are useable, not to mention something workable in regards to the string. You can't just use any garden variety that you happen to find. Sure you could feasibly get a shot or two off with little to no effect, but the bodies we found, they were killed with precision shots. Did the method you used just come to you? In other words, did you feel that you simply knew how to make something like this and did it?'
It was a bow. Granted, I knew a lot went into making good one since I started visiting Ken's recently, but still.
'I needed a weapon, so I made one.'
'Alright,' she said, making another note. 'What else?'
'Well there was my axe. I kind of put together a makeshift one until I came across something better. It was more of a knife tied and braced to a stick. Most everything else I took off the dead guys.'
'Okay.'
'Look, all I wanted to do was make it down to the docks and find a way off the island. If anyone got in my way I killed them, mainly because they were trying to kill me. When I met up with the others, there was always some idiot that had gone back in to retrieve something or whatever. Then Sam got kidnapped and… well, she was nice to me on the trip over.'
'Sam?' Miss Militia took a look at her notes. 'This is Samantha Nishimura?'
I nodded. 'She always showed me what they were working on during the trip. Sam wasn't snobby like some of the others. She really liked teaching me about everything. She made it fun. I wasn't going to let them just….'
'That's when you went back into the island, leaving the others to find the boat?'
'Right.' I shifted uncomfortably. 'Look, can we not talk about this part?'
Miss Militia seemed to measure me with her eyes for a moment. 'Alright. The parahuman you encountered. What can you tell me about her?'
I blew a relieved breath out and thought about it for a moment. 'She could control the weather. That's what made us crash in the first place. It was like a hurricane popped up out of nowhere. Lightening all over the place, and wind like you wouldn't believe.'
'Hmm, do you know why they kidnapped Sam?'
With a shake of my head I declined to answer with any details. 'She was doing something to her, the woman I mean. She was there in front of her when I got there. Sam was out of it and the woman looked like she was off in lala land. I just jammed the jagged end of my torch into her chest and she went down. Right after, the rain stopped and the storm went away.'
Miss Militia's brows moved in confusion. 'It was that easy?'
I snorted. 'Sure, if mowing through 433 people trying to kill you, fighting through hurricane force winds, and some crazy lady throwing lightning at you every few seconds would be called easy. Yeah, it was real easy.'
She held her hand up. 'I didn't mean… I meant to ask if she exhibited any other powers, once you got there. Many high powered capes are extremely difficult to defeat face to face.'
'Oh.' Well that made more sense. 'No, like I said, she was distracted with something.'
'Any idea what it was?'
A pretty good idea, yeah. 'No.'
She nodded, taking more notes. I looked down at the coffee which had probably gone cold by this point and sighed.
'433. Is that an exact number?'
I started to deny it, but that was somewhat unrealistic considering what I'd revealed so far. 'On my part. I had help for a few of them, and the others had their people to deal with.'
She nodded. 'And afterward?'
'Well, I carried Sam down to the boat and we made it out of there.'
'You carried her.'
I ducked my head. 'I'm kind of stronger than I was before.'
'I see. It's part of your power?'
With a nod I replied, 'Uh-huh.'
'Would you mind explaining what it is that you can do now that you couldn't before?'
This was the point I was definitely going to take some of Lisa's advice. I didn't want them trying to test me. 'I'm stronger, I said that.'
'How much?'
They don't make a bar long enough for sale at the local stores for all the weights I had at home, so I had to fib a little. 'I haven't really pushed myself, but I could probably lift three hundred or so pounds.'
She noted that and said, 'We know about your healing ability. I assume your stamina was also affected?'
'Well, I get tired, but I haven't really been exhausted. Usually when I eat or rest a little while I can keep moving.'
'Speed, agility?'
This is where I either had to lie a lot or stop the questions from coming. 'Average speed, but I can go on for longer… should I be telling you all of this? I mean, no offence or anything, but I'm not joining the Wards.'
Her pen came to a stop. 'Technically, no. You don't have to tell us, but you've seen the reactions of the guards downstairs. Do you follow the PHO boards?'
Surprisingly no. 'Not anymore. Not for a while now.'
Miss Militia's eyes softened. 'Understandable. Are you familiar with the rating system each cape is assigned?'
'Sort of. A one though ten thing. Ten is better?'
She shrugged. 'I suppose it's all in the way you look at things. It's not really a ranking system so much as it's a threat assessment system. Ten in certain categories would be a very high threat in certain situations. Take the parahuman on Yamatai for example. She could create, in your words, hurricanes out of nowhere. That is a major threat, so she would be rated quite high.'
I was mostly familiar with this, as much as any laymen would be. 'And I was able to kill her… and over 400 others. That's why they call me Killdozer.'
Miss Militia sighed. 'If they value their jobs they don't call you that, but we don't really have the ability to oversee their private lives. Your designation is Juggernaut unless or until you decide to change it to something else.'
It was my turn to look mildly exasperated. 'I'm not getting involved in any of this. I'm not a hero, a villain, or a rogue.'
The skin crinkled around the outside of her eyes. 'That's where you're wrong, Taylor. You are a hero; maybe not in the way that you mean, but in the way that counts. The real definition of the term: someone that uses their talents above and beyond the call of duty, who risks their lives to save others. That's what you did on that island. You may not wear the costume, but… well, you see where I'm going with this.'
When I didn't respond, she pressed on.
'That's one of the reasons we have the Wards program, to teach you about your powers so that you have the greatest control over them. I'm sure you're well aware by now how out of control things can be in the real world when lives are on the line. On an island out in the Pacific when people are trying to kill you, you have more leeway to do what you need to get the job done. If you were to do the same thing here in Brockton Bay, things wouldn't be so clear, and juries tend to react negatively to people that use deadly force to solve their problems.'
At least she delivered it in a polite warning tone and not a threat.
'Well, that's not going to happen to me.'
'Do you have a clairvoyant ability or maybe precognitive that I'm unaware of?'
'Well, no.'
'Then you don't know.' she stressed. 'There are parahumans in most of the gangs here in town. What if you came up against one of them and they threatened you or your friends?'
It was the same argument Lisa had earlier. 'You've made your point.'
'Look, why don't you give the Wards a try. I'm sure we can work something out with Director Piggot for you to train your powers as a preventive measure.'
I frowned. She made a fairly nice offer. No commitment? 'I need to talk to my dad.'
I could see she was smiling again under her scarf. 'Absolutely. We won't, or more to the point, can't do anything without his permission. If you'd like I could talk to him personally, to save you the trouble if he has questions you haven't thought about.'
'Can I call him?' I asked, pointing at the phone.
'Of course,' she replied while she stood. 'I'll give you some privacy. Just dial nine first.'
2.3
'Hey, Dad; it's me.'
His voice sounded like he was relieved. I guessed that this whole thing tonight was a little more stressful on him than he appeared in the car.
'Taylor. Is everything okay?'
I glanced up at the door. There wasn't any obviously large mirror on the walls or anything stereotypical procedural crime drama-like in the room that the PRT could listen to me with – well, other than the phone, and I suppose the active tablet still sitting on the table. Hell, the whole place was probably wired to blow; who was I kidding?
'Yeah, so far. They're going to release… his pistols. You need to pick them up though.'
'I can do that.' I heard the sound of a door closing and footsteps on concrete. 'Are you ready to come home?'
'Well, Miss Militia is pushing the Wards. I want to talk it over with you, at home.'
'We can do that too. There's no need to rush a decision like this.'
'Yeah,' I replied before I heard a soft electronic crackling over the line. 'Dad, what are you doing?'
'Leaning on the car, on the portable. As soon as we're done here I'm on my way to pick you up.'
The lights above flickered for a moment, making me look up.
Conference room, rectangular, fifteen by seventeen feet; acoustic ceiling tiles with two florescent fixtures, recessed; ballast problems in both lights, flickering. Four more sprinkler nozzles, two of which are real; other two are the same type as in the lobby; PRT are seriously paranoid.
I could relate.
'Dad, I've got to go.'
'Taylor?' was all he was able to get out before I hung up.
The door opened and I already had a grasp on my axe when Miss Militia stuck her head in. 'Security has been breached. I'm locking you in for your safety. Don't try to leave until I come back for you.'
'Wait!'
It was too late. The door closed behind her and I could hear a fairly heavy clunk in that direction.
'Fuck.'
Closed in space. Security breach – whatever that means. Me without any decent weapons. Yeah, this was a screamingly ideal situation for a full blown panic attack.
I blinked and looked around again. The near silent whisper of bearings being moved caught my attention. Looking up I saw the containment foam nozzles turning to me. I didn't even take a half second to think about the implications. I just jumped to the table and used it as a spring board through the acoustic ceiling. The sputtering and sudden rush of foam doused the area I was previously standing in and even managed to tag my shoe in the process.
Hanging from the steel reinforcement braces in the ceiling, I shook most of it off, but I could already feel the thin layer remaining hardening. I pulled myself the rest of the way up and cringed at the lack of space I was able to maneuver in.
If this was PRT standard protocols then Miss Militia and I were going to have a serious talk afterward.
Two shots rang out; small arms, then nothing.
I scrambled in the direction of the door, doing my best to keep my weight distributed evenly on the frame of the ceiling and not accidently fall through. Spending any time trapped in a mound of super-hardened foam wasn't my idea of a fun Wednesday night.
The sound of heavy boots thumped down the left as I got into position. Reaching back, underneath my pack, I slipped out a punch dagger and slid the tip under a single tile lifting it barely enough to get an idea about what was going on below. The hall was empty; down went the tile.
Looking around was somewhat difficult. There was barely any light, the sole source being the two foot square of missing tile that I busted out when I jumped up into the rafters. It was enough to make out the dimensions of the area, a few sections walled off, and ventilation conduits running all over.
I did run up against a valve that ran parallel with the sprinkler system. I wonder what that could be. Without wasting any more time I quickly closed it off and moved toward the front of the building, if my sense of direction was still working.
More footfalls and the occasional shot fired kept me moving until I ran up against a cinderblock wall. That pretty much stopped my forward momentum. Following it along, I came across a maintenance hatch. Taking the punch dagger, I slid the point into the seam by the lock and bent it to no effect. I'd break the blade before the lock gave. Instead I tried one of the corners and was able to move it enough to slip a finger inside, then two. Eventually a loud metal pop sounded and the lock broke.
That was probably my cue to disappear before someone got smart and chose to investigate.
'Crap.' Elevator shaft.
While it wasn't an ideal escape route, it would get me away from the floor I was on.
'I thought these things were supposed to have useful ladders that lead to the bottom of the shaft where there's a street level access hatch conveniently placed.'
Obviously, the people that built the PRT building didn't watch the same movies I did. Looking down, I saw the car only about ten feet away. I had made longer jumps on Yamatai. The thing was I needed to stay quiet and not attract any attention.
Flipping around I dropped and hung as far down as I could before letting go and absorbed my fall against the side of car with no more than a low thud. Waiting for a few moments I didn't hear any movement, so the hatch on the roof of the car was my next obstacle. Thankfully, there wasn't a lock this time and the car was empty.
There weren't any elevators in the lobby, so this either led out into the hallway to the right side of the front desk or it was in the closed room from before. I was betting it was the hallway, so that meant the possibility of a fight.
Switching the punch dagger to my left hand, I considered pulling my axe, but Miss Militia's words came back to haunt me. I actually stood there and considered ignoring them, doing the whole pros and cons thing. Instead I reached back to my belt and withdrew the ASP instead. I could always drop it and pull the more serious tool out to finish the job if absolutely needed. Breathing out, I hit the button to open the elevator doors. I didn't hear the traditional ding sound that accompanied most of these things, and it looked as if I was right about the hall.
I saw the rifle swing around before the color of the uniform registered in my head. It wasn't a PRT uniform and at the moment, that was all that mattered. Blocking the barrel with my left forearm, I snapped the ASP as hard as I could against his elbow, hearing the crack of a broken bone and minor squeal of pain as I charged him against the opposite wall.
The helmet he was wearing thumped and I drove the punch dagger up and into his underarm, sinking it in as far as I could. That actually elicited a scream from him that lasted until I swung the ASP upside his head and he hit the floor unconscious.
Fifty foot hallway; multiple doors; not enough room for melee combat without risk of serious injury. Heckler & Koch HK416N with 419 mm long barrel, 30-round STANAG magazine, two extra mags.
The dagger and ASP went back in their sheaths and I picked up the HK, covering the door closest to me while I fished out and then stored the extra ammo in my cargo pockets. I didn't even get a chance to stand before a door slammed open, which was probably a good thing. A three round burst went just above my head and into the wall, before I returned fire right below waist level, just under the guy's body armor.
So much for non-lethal take downs. That lasted all of seventeen seconds. Well, I tried.
The door was kicked shut. To me that screamed out low numbers on the other side. Bringing the HK up properly, I shot two bursts to the left high and low, through the door, and ran at it, kicking it open. Someone whimpered to the left and shots went wide as I reared back.
Lobby; front doors and vestibule foamed shut; three PRT guards behind the desk, dead; one enemy throat missing from right side, left femur shattered.
He went still two seconds later.
I seriously considered just collecting all their extra mags, finding a vantage point, and just waiting this one out. There weren't any acoustic ceilings in the lobby and I didn't know if the foam sprayers were active on this level or not.
'Attention hero in the lobby.'
Internal PA system; male thirty to forty-five years old.
'Lay down your weapons and submit to being foamed and you might just survive the evening.'
I scanned the area, but couldn't find any cameras. This was the PRT though. Probably tiny tinker-tech things.
'Do you know who I am?' I responded, hoping they could hear me.
There was a lengthy pause. 'It doesn't matter; one hero is just as useless as the rest. Submit.'
I considered that for a moment. Instead of drawing this out I attempted to stall him instead and give me a chance to hunt him down. 'Since you have access to the PA, I assume you have access to the computers as well?'
Moving over to the door on the other side, I checked the hall. Empty. Where the hell was everyone? Where was the damn Protectorate? They're just right across the damn bay.
'Very well.' He sounded exasperated.
Small strike team; attacked through the internal defenses; staff and heroes most likely trapped in containment foam.
'Fucking hell,' I whispered.
Each door I came to I checked to see if anyone was inside that knew what the hell was going on. By the third one, I finally found some sort of dispatch office. Four PRT officers, I think, were buried under the hardened foam. Not even their heads were sticking out. I spared a second to hope they could still breathe before moving on to the next.
'Ah yes, here we go. The facial recognition software here is quite nice. Taylor Hebert. Fifteen year old High School student. Are you joining the… oh.'
The next door finally bore fruit. One person out of seven had her head above the foam. I didn't bother with pleasantries.
'Where is this voice coming from?'
The brunette looked scared, but holding together. 'You're her!'
'The voice,' I insisted.
She looked over to the one of the desks. 'Go over there. Touch the mouse and type in Sierra34829$kLLy.'
Doing this while keeping at least one eye and one ear on the door was somewhat difficult.
'Done.'
'Access internal systems, upper right.'
I clicked, and clicked again as she walked me through it and realized what she was leading me to. 'Wait this isn't….'
'It's the counteragent to the foam. Let us do our jobs, J-Juggernaut.'
With a frown I hit the activation key and stood back as the real sprinkler system was set off. At first it was just water and then seconds later the clear liquid turned yellow, covering the entire office. I stood against the wall, trying my best to stay out of the worst of it and in less than a minute the officers were free.
The brunette held out her hand and approached. 'Give me the rifle.'
'Fuck you,' I snapped back. 'Get your own. Three people tried to kill me tonight.'
She obviously weighed her chances against me and backed off. 'Fine. Wait here. You'll be safe. Grimes, Hernandez, you're with me.'
'I'll be safe; riiight.'
Back up into the ceiling I went.
2.4
I am sooo skipping school tomorrow.
I could just see the excuse I would turn in to the front office:
Please excuse Taylor on Thursday August 25, 2011, because she was involved in preventing an overthrow of the PRT building the previous night. Don't worry, she took care of things, but she is rather tired at the moment and will probably shoot you if you don't.
~ Sincerely, Miss Militia
I wondered if she'd write me a note.
Crossing my arms on the conference table, I set my head down and sighed. Waiting sucked. It was understandable. They had to make sure the bad guys were all caught and that there weren't any surprises left behind, but seriously – three hours?
There was a low clunk in the direction of the door before it opened and Miss Militia strolled inside looking frazzled. At least she had a chance to change into some fresh clothes. I still looked pee-stained from the foam counteragent. I hoped that stuff washed out… well, that and the blood stain all down my left forearm.
'How are you holding up?' she asked with genuine concern.
'Meh. At least I'll have something new to talk to my therapist about.'
She winced and then took a seat. 'We have a few things to go over and then your father can take you home.'
Fun fact: if you're involved in a shootout on American soil, specifically a government building, it really doesn't matter what age you are. They can still hold you for questioning. A parent or lawyer should be present, but I declined. Dad really didn't need any more nightmares about his little girl toting around automatic weapons.
They said they weren't going to do anything silly like pressing charges for killing three guys that were trying to kill me. Yeah, that first guy out of the elevator didn't make it. There's a major artery that runs up under the arm, brachial I think. Sliced that puppy clean through with the punch dagger. He bled out in minutes. It totally made me look bad when I explained how I took at least one of them down non-lethally.
'That's fine.'
'First thing,' she said as she produced a new pad. 'How did you get from the conference room over to the elevator?'
I flicked a finger up toward the ceiling. 'Through the walls. There's a maintenance hatch in the elevator shaft in there. I dropped down through the emergency hatch in the elevator and then out the door.'
'So you tried hiding first?'
With a shrug I said, 'I tried getting out of the building, but large guys with guns got in my way and tried to kill me.'
'Right. So, it wasn't your intended purpose to go hunting for them.'
'No. I wanted to leave.' So much for her hero comment from earlier.
I felt a little bad for that, but they're the ones that signed up for this. I didn't want anything to do with it.
'Oh, can I have my ASP back?'
Even with her scarf up I could see the grimace. 'It's being held as evidence for the moment, but I'll see what I can do about getting it back to you once the necessary paperwork is finished with legal.'
When I frowned at her she brought up her next question.
'How did you disable the foam sprayers?'
'Turned the knob.'
She shifted slightly. 'Yes, you said that earlier. But how did you know which knob to turn?'
Looking up again I pointed out two sprayers. 'See those to poorly masked sprinkler heads? When I got up there I noticed that they ran right along with the real ones. It doesn't really take a rocket scientist to figure it out. I didn't know it would knock out everything, but I wanted to lessen the odds of me getting sprayed on the way out of the building.'
Miss Militia made a note and had another question lined up. 'You seemed very familiar with the rifle you picked up.'
'Shouldn't I be? I've used similar ones before on Yamatai. Point and pull the trigger.'
She looked at me for a second and then nodded with a resigned look in her eyes. 'I'll escort you out.'
That surprised me. 'What about the guy on the PA. He knows my name.'
When Miss Militia opened the door she turned to me. 'He won't be talking to anyone any time soon, Taylor. We take attacks against our own very personally.'
'But who was he? I mean shouldn't I at least get to know his name or see his face? Isn't that fair?'
With a minor shake of her head she added, 'That's need-to-know information. If you were to take me up on that offer to join the Wards then you'd have the security clearance to know, but for now you'll have to trust us to make sure the next time he sees daylight will be when he's geriatric age.'
'Trust you…. Right. Like when you said I'd be safe locked in that room?'
Well, technically I suppose I would have been safe being drowned in gallons of containment foam. I probably would have had a psychotic break as well – physically, I would have been fine.
~O~
'I hid up in the ceiling after,' I explained to my dad for the tenth time after he saw the dried blood on my clothes. 'I promise.'
'Kiddo,' he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 'I swear; one of these days I'm going to have a heart attack.'
He looked pale, frail, and weak, even more than he did when I stepped off the boat from Yamatai.
'You know I can take care of myself.'
Dad snorted and stood from his chair, almost chuckling. It really looked like he was holding back. 'You shouldn't have to do these sorts of things. You're still…'
He stopped and looked over at me. We'd had this conversation a few times before. The Taylor he knew and loved, the meek little girl that used to take crap from anyone and everyone, was gone the moment Endurance cracked in two equal pieces across the middle. I never made excuses for the people I killed, just a simple explanation. While I liked to rationalize things back then, that just wasn't me anymore.
'Do you….' He stopped and apparently reworded his question. 'I know I haven't asked this before, mainly because I've seen the difference before and after, but… do you feel anything anymore, I mean about… killing those men?'
My therapist is seriously fond of asking me questions like this: how do I feel about blah, blah, blah. Dad has always avoided the issue. He did his job and loved me as best as he could. He made sure I got the support I needed and had my back when people annoyed me. However, he's never basically asked if I've turned into a sociopathic killing machine.
It's a tricky question to answer if you take the time to consider the issue.
There were human lives lost, which in itself is a tragedy. They were murdering scum that didn't think twice about killing people for whatever reason. The second part, well, ending their existence is a service to humanity. To me, what they did gave me more than enough reason to put them in the same league as the Slaughterhouse 9, or even the Endbringers. They all murder tons of people for really lame reasons – if they had reasons in the first place. So yeah, I felt something.
Satisfaction.
It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling in knowing that the people whose lives I've ended won't ever be able to do anything to anyone ever again, period, end of sentence. There won't be any plea deals. There won't be any parole, or community service with anger management courses. There won't be any Cannibals Anonymous or Abused Henchmen support groups. They – simply – end.
He shouldn't know. It would only make things worse.
'Yeah, Dad. I work it out in therapy through.'
His lips twitched with a worried smile. 'It's not that I think you're wrong for protecting yourself. As far as I'm concerned anyone that did what they did needed to be taken out. I… I'm just worried because it's mad you so… hard.'
I really didn't have a reply to that. 'I'm sorry.'
Dad shook his head. 'You've got nothing to be sorry about. Sometime the world changes you and there just anything anyone can do about it; it just is.'
I shifted a little, uncomfortably, before he ended the torture session. 'Get cleaned up and try to get some sleep. Leave the gun cleaning for tomorrow until after I get home.'
I nodded and did exactly what he told me to do… the dutiful daughter.
When I settled in bed and let him check on me one last time before closing the door, I reached over on the nightstand and snagged a receipt from Ken's. After dialing a number I leaned back on my overly soft pillow and closed my eyes, listening to the ringing in the receiver. After the fourth ring it was answered.
'I swear, I didn't knowingly set you up,' Lisa said without any kind of greeting.
Straight to business.
'Lisa, I have one question for you.'
There was a lengthy pause in the conversation before she answered. 'Okay.'
Tomb Raider A Survivor Is Born 1 2009
'Did your boss have anything to do with tonight's assault on the PRT building?'
Another pause, I assumed so she could figure out the proper words. 'I haven't talked to him since this afternoon.'
I didn't say anything in response, so we just sat there not talking.
'Fuck! I don't know!' she finally said. 'I called to tell him that I talked to you and that you seemed responsive. He knew you would be going to the PRT like I suggested, but not when.'
I still didn't say anything, because she still hadn't given me any answers I liked.
'He could have. He has resources. He might have done it as a preventative measure so you wouldn't have reason to join the Wards… so you wouldn't trust them with your safety.'
With a cleansing breath I thought about what that meant. There were so many reasons I wouldn't join the Wards in the first place. It really didn't make any sense to take the chance that I'd find out it was him behind everything, unless he was that confident in his position that he thought he was untouchable.
'Pass on a message for me.'
There was sound of relief on the other end of the line. 'Sure.'
'Twenty-two seconds,' I said flatly. 'It took me twenty-two seconds to kill everyone that I came across tonight, and that's only because we were in different rooms. That brings my count up to 436. I started off the evening with an ASP – one of those collapsible batons. Can you imagine what I could do if I started fully prepared and had a target to focus on? If I find out that he was behind it… well….'
This time I didn't have to wait. 'Consider it already passed.'
'Sweet dreams, Lisa.'
Thumbing off the handset I set it on the nightstand and turned off the light.
~O~
Dad eyed me over breakfast. My mood was generally the same as it had been over the previous six weeks: cautious, moody, hungry.
'You're going to see Doctor Phelps today, right?'
I made some kind of humming noise as my mouth was otherwise occupied with a bite of an all grain waffle. Once I swallowed I focused on cutting another piece.
'Therapy: that's pretty much the plan for today,' I said. 'You're calling Winslow for me?'
He nodded. 'As far as they know, you have a doctor's appointment and nothing else.'
'Cool. I'll be going for a run first and probably hang out at the shops too.'
'That sounds like a great plan: normal girl things.'
Once he left I made a beeline to my room and braided my hair, slipped on the sunglasses, grabbed my backpack, and sat down to spin the hundred grain, two blade arrowheads on their new shafts, placing them one at a time into the leather quiver.
Yes, therapy. Today should be quite relaxing.
The quiver and bow fit all snuggly in its own padded case so as not to scare the locals while I took the bus down to the Boardwalk. I backtracked a block on foot until I noticed someone exiting one of the supposedly secure apartment buildings. Grabbing the door before it close properly, I took the first elevator I could find to the top floor.
From there it was simple enough to hunt down the roof access and get my bearings from above. I had a good view of Ken's and the coffee shop Lisa took me to for our little chat. It was a longshot, but it was either sit there all day and see if she shows up to do some shopping or spend an hour in therapy telling Doctor Phelps about my night with the PRT. Guess which one I chose?
Interlude: Sophia
Sometimes I think I'm cursed.
I run around this piece of shit town, even on my nights off, and I'm lucky if I come across a decent throw-down. It's like everyone who is worth anything is hiding their scared ass under the bed or something when I'm around. You'd think that whoever passes out the karma chips would have tossed a few my way for the way I handled Hebert outside the PRT building. Hell, I had her nearly eating out of my hand, all gracious and shit.
It was a longshot revealing my public identity, but it paid off in spades. She would have eventually found out. I know my luck and most of it is bad. The way I played it, I just cut that shit off before it had the chance to come back and bite me in the ass later. Now I got fucking Killdozer in my corner.
Once Piggot sees how quick everything went with Shadow Stalker on board, Easy Street, baby.
So, does somebody up there want to tell me why yours truly was out fucking around with the lame-ass criminal element when shit was going down back at the base? I'll tell you why – karma. I used all of my shit hooking Hebert up with Miss M. That's why I wasn't here to see my new bestie in action. I got to see it after though. Bitch is hardcore.
The holding room, where they keep the stiffs before processing, isn't watched too hard. The halls are monitored, but not the room itself. That gave me some alone time to see firsthand what Hebert was capable of. A flick of my lenses let me know where to avoid the electric shit in the walls, so I could pass right through without bothering anyone with official crap. They wouldn't understand anyway. They don't get why someone like me needs to see it up close and personal.
Stories change when they go from person to person. Shit gets made up and stretched so thin that you don't know who to believe. The stiffs don't lie. All the truth of life can be found right there where it ends.
PRT had them tagged one through three – the order of her kills. I already heard the preliminary report through word of mouth around the base, and knew when I uncovered stiff number one what I'd find. Rigor was already settling in, but this one lost a good portion of his shit anyway. Face was caved in and blood was all dry from the hole in his pit. Number two brought a smile to my face. Fucker was almost cut right in half. Number three was the best though.
Whoever picked him up hadn't bothered closing his eyes. TV shows all got it wrong: a person dies with their eyes open, they close a little, maybe half way. I could almost picture him in the lobby. Hebert blew his leg up and then took a chunk out of his throat. She was probably the last thing he saw before feeling it all fade away – lucky bitch.
I slipped off my glove and reached out to touch his throat where she shot him. You got to have contact in the end or it's not as real. You hear some hunting stories at school; dumbass boys going out in the forest wearing orange vest and shit, hunting with their pops. One kid I overheard drank some of the blood from the deer he took down.
Gross fuckers.
All you need is the feel of it between your fingers to know it was real. A life was taken tonight. The apex predator took out a threat to her concrete jungle. Doesn't get more real than this unless you're doing it yourself.
~O~
I had to know more. The less than informative meeting we had when Assault called everyone back to base was missing a lot of details. Alls we got was that Vista had been foamed at the comm, and Taylor pulled some serious Hollywood bullshit and set the counteragent sprinklers off, killing three of the invaders in the process. Miss M was supposed to be in some meeting with Piggot. That's where I'd find my answers.
Working my way outside I entered my shadow state to move through the wall and follow a well-traveled route to the Director's office. Being on probation means I needed to know what was going on, where I was concerned, as much as possible. This wasn't the first time I spied on her. Every week Miss M gave Piggot the lowdown on the Wards and I was there to hear every world.
Most of it was boring as shit. I really didn't need to know that Kid Win was spending way too much time in his lab during the off hours, or that Clockblocker had his internet privileges revoked for obvious reasons.
When I arrived, I settled myself in, keeping an ear to the ceiling tile directly above her desk.
'… of them are on their way to containment as we speak,' Miss M said rather officially, like she was reading from a script.
'How did Dragon not pick up on this before the Trojan hit?'
'Wireless communications were being scrambled, and the main and secondary trunks for the land lines were physically cut. They'd been hooked up with dummies, apparently at the same time, so everything would appear normal. She recorded a slight disruption that could have been a minor power surge which isn't out of the ordinary given the age of the lines.'
I could swear I heard the old lady actually growl. 'Then the foam was activated.'
'Two men dressed in civilian clothes entered the atrium and took out security. We lost the feed from there. Once I took two of them down on the lower levels, I was pinned and protecting Vista from the other three. Right around that time was when the sprinklers went off and they surrendered without any fight. Whoever they worked for knew our protocols inside and out. They knew which offices were manned and I wouldn't put it past the realm of possibility that there was someone already on the inside at the time.'
There was a nice dramatic pause. I swear, I think Piggot just waits for these times for maximum effect. She's such a drama queen.
'You're suggesting someone within our own ranks is a traitor?'
'It's what I would do, Ma'am.'
It's times like these that Miss M shows her true colors. Bitch is lethal when she wants to be. Why she wasn't in charge before Armsmaster, I have no idea. Would have been a nice tight ship – granted, we would have been singing Kumbaya and giving each other hugs on a daily basis. At least the place would have been safe.
'Where was Juggernaut during all of this?'
Miss M cleared her throat. 'In the walls, Ma'am. She went up into the ceiling, turned off the main valve for the containment foam, and made her way down the elevator shaft.'
Piggot sighed. 'Tell me she doesn't have the technical plans for the building in her back pocket.'
'Not likely. That's why I've assigned her with a Thinker 4 at the moment. She shows an innate ability to assess the situation as she moves along, unnaturally taking steps along the way to improve her chances of victory in whatever fight she chooses to engage.'
I almost laughed at the low classification. They needed to take the time and actually watch her when she walks into a room or when she's staring someone down. Chick has more going on in that head of hers than they think. I mean she had to have some sort of major talent to survive on that island without getting killed.
I can tell when someone is looking at me and thinking about how many different ways they can kill me. I used to see that shit all the time before I joined the Wards. Up until we hooked up out on the street I might have agreed with the rating. When I saw how hard she was gripping that axe of hers, and probably thinking about exactly where she could put it into me for maximum damage and pain – well, then I understood. I could almost tell she was taking my shadow powers into account and how best to counter them. If she wants you dead, you're dead. Not that I'd make it easy for her.
Thinker 7 maybe 8: she can see too damn much.
'Tell me you were able to at least get her thinking about the Wards.'
'At the moment of the attack she was on the phone with her Father asking him to come down. I was right there, but…'
'But what?'
Miss M blew a breath and I could already tell it was bad news. 'She wanted information about the intruders, names, faces.'
Piggot's chair creaked as her weight shifted. 'She would have killed them?'
'Unknown. The one thing I'm fairly sure of, Juggernaut reacts to threats against her person; given the status of Samantha Nishimura I would assume to those she cares about as well. Their leader specifically told me that he knew her name and asked for protection. It made sticking him and the rest of his people in the deepest hole imaginable, at least for now much easier.'
'How did he find out?'
'Accessed her file through facial recognition.'
Something loud popped against Piggot's desk. 'Damn! We almost had her!'
'If I could have permission to approach her…'
'Absolutely not! Where's Shadow Stalker? Two days and she's accomplished what the PRT and the Protectorate couldn't in over six weeks…'
Fuck!
I scrambled backward until I was two offices over, a place that I knew was empty at that time of night, and then went into my shadow form before dropping two floors down. Landing on the lower level I let my power go in time to feel my phone vibrating.
'Stalker,' I said with a nice even tone.
She would know I'd check my caller ID and that it was her, so the pleasantries were ignored. 'Are you still on site?'
'Just going for a walk around the base and seeing all the damage, Chief. What's up?'
'Director Piggot needs to see you.'
'On my way.'
After dropping the call, I didn't exactly take my time heading to the elevator. When I got off Miss M was waiting at the open door and eyed me when I approached.
'Weren't you off duty an hour ago? Why are you still in uniform?'
I shrugged. 'Figured it's best to be on guard at all times, Chief; too many surprises around here lately.'
'At least someone around here is thinking tactically,' Piggot said from inside her office.
Putting on my best kiss-ass expression, I walked past Miss M and to the front of Piggot's desk. 'You want to see me, Director?'
She was dressed a little down for the evening. By that I mean every single hair wasn't in place. I think the chick slept in those nappy business suits of hers.
'First of all, excellent work bringing in Juggernaut. I would have preferred a morning meeting, but I understand she insisted on getting it over with. Either way, you made it happen and a deal is a deal. You're unofficially off probation. The paperwork will take a few weeks, but consider yourself an active and equal member of the Wards.'
I gave her a routine nod. 'Thank you, Ma'am.'
'Are you ready for your next mission?'
This was the part I wasn't exactly looking forward to. 'Yes, Ma'am.'
She laced her fingers together and leaned forward on the desk, pinning me with her eyes. 'I want Taylor Hebert in the Wards.'
My lips hadn't even open yet to tell her she was shit out of luck, before she cut me off.
Tomb Raider A Survivor Is Born 1 2017
'I had my doubts about you when we brought you in. You were brash, violent, and not much of a team player. In only a few short weeks you've changed my initial assessment. That doesn't happen very often.'
It was officially the perfect moment to lay it on extra thick.
'Sorry, Director; I was an ass. I was the same way in private too. Lately, I figured it out. I'm trying my best to change. It's an ongoing thing.'
She huffed. 'Being an… ass can be a good personality trait, if properly applied. I should know.'
Was I supposed to agree with her? Why don't they teach shit like this at school instead of lame things like Geometry?
'I think you have what it takes to make this happen. This girl obviously has a connection with you. Take advantage of it. Deepen the friendship, whatever it takes. We need to get her on board and under our direction before she decides she's better off with one of the local gangs.'
Tomb Raider A Survivor Is Born 1 2019
I stopped looking straight ahead and then dropped my eyes to hers. 'She won't do that. Taylor can't stand them.'
Piggot leaned back. 'Well, that's something at least. Still, I'd feel much safer with her on board. She has a very aggressive power set: Thinker 4, Tinker 1, Brute 3 at Miss Militia's initial assessment. Any one of those isn't cause to panic, but the direction she's chosen to apply it has already proven lethal. Her kill count as of tonight is 436.'
Fucking hell, I knew it!
Tomb Raider A Survivor Is Born 1 2000
'Miss Militia has already taken note that she's not fond of her current designation,' she said. 'Perhaps encouraging her to choose a different one might be a way to start the ball rolling. Something to get her in the proper mindset; something heroic. I'll notify Public Relations and get them to email you a list of suggestions by tomorrow morning.'
I nodded. While I might had a very small in with her at the moment, I knew it wouldn't be enough. It was time to play on a little information that I picked up while I was listening in.
'I know Taylor, Director. The name might help, but she's going to want something, something extra, especially after what went down here tonight. No offense, but we grabbed our ankles pretty bad.'
She looked over to Miss M for a second and then back at me, like we had a meeting of the minds.
'Drop some hints that you might be able to get more information about whatever she wants to know.'
'Director!' Miss M didn't look too pleased.
'If she's a Ward then there's a standard that must be lived up to, Miss Militia. We'll feed her scraps and then let her see what happens to those that attack us on our own turf. If she wants satisfaction I have no problem with delivering it on my terms. In the end, she'll be satisfied, we'll have a potential threat off the streets, and another addition to the Wards.'
She swung back around on me. 'Proceed, Shadow Stalker. Don't let me down. Dismissed.'