Kaiser

  The conference room atop Medhall’s tower was all steel and silence. No ornamentation, no distractions—only the long pane of reinforced glass looking out over Brockton Bay’s fractured skyline. The Empire Eighty-Eight’s senior lieutenants filled the room with presence rather than sound, waiting for him to speak.

  Kaiser stood at the head of the table, posture straight, arms folded behind his back. A morning haze blurred the horizon, but the docks were visible. Ash still clung to the streets in pockets—black smears along rooftops, gutters, and alleys. It wasn’t toxic. It wasn’t harmful.

  But it was terrifying.

  He let that truth hang in the air like smoke.

  “No reports of civilian fatalities,” he said at last. “Only minor injuries. Asthma attacks. Two sprains. Some traffic damage.” His voice was calm, clinical. “The chaos, however, speaks for itself.”

  Hookwolf leaned back in his seat, one boot up on the corner of the table despite the implied need for decorum. His grin hadn’t dimmed since the meeting started.

  “You say chaos like it’s a bad thing. ABB had runners scrambling like cockroaches. I say let the sky catch fire more often.”

  Kaiser didn’t glance at him, “We maintain control through fear, not confusion. The distinction matters.”

  “Tell that to the boys,” Stormtiger cut in, arms crossed, tone more even. “Most of them thought it was an Endbringer at first. They’re still on edge, even now.”

  Kaiser nodded at the pile of documents littering the conference room table.

  “They’re not alone. The community forums have been lit up all night. PHO’s flooded with rumors, I’m told. No one knows what happened—and that suits us. For now.”

  From her seat near the window, Purity said nothing.

  She hadn’t said anything since they arrived.

  Kaiser’s gaze slid toward her. She was staring past the glass, hands folded in her lap, the curve of her mouth tight with something unspoken. Not fear. Not grief. Something quieter. Reflective.

  Not here.

  That, more than any swarm, made his jaw tighten.

  “Kayden,” he said, voice sharp enough to cut.

  She blinked, refocused.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Then tell me,” he said evenly, “do you believe this was a one-time event?”

  Her brow creased. She hesitated.

  “No.”

  The word lingered.

  Kaiser watched her carefully, but she didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. He already saw it—the way she’d drifted since Christmas. Since the last time her daughter visited Medhall’s safehouse. Since she started hesitating during raids, always one eye on some imagined crossfire.

  He’d given her space. Loyalty could bend, as long as it didn’t break.

  But the fault line was forming.

  “Then we prepare,” he said, pivoting to the room. “That swarm demonstrated a parahuman with massive, scalable range. The winged figure demonstrated surgical, controlled destruction from the air. Whoever they are, they aren’t random. That kind of precision takes discipline.”

  “And restraint,” Purity added quietly.

  Hookwolf scoffed.

  “What restraint? They torched a thousand bugs in the sky.”

  “They avoided civilians,” she said. Still not looking at anyone. “They could have killed. They didn’t.”

  Kaiser didn’t correct her. She wasn’t wrong. But the fact that she’d seen mercy in a city-wide panic was telling.

  “We have two new actors,” he continued. “We do not yet know their affiliations. They may be rogue. Independent. The PRT hasn’t claimed them. Which means we have an opportunity.”

  “To do what?” Stormtiger asked.

  “To observe. To evaluate. And, if possible, to ensure that when they are approached, it’s by someone we can influence—or someone who shares our interests.”

  Hookwolf snorted, again.

  “You want to recruit a damn flying nuke?”

  “No,” Kaiser replied, “I want to know if someone else plans to. Coil, perhaps. Or the Undersiders.”

  That made the room quiet. Purity finally turned her head.

  “What if they’re not interested in recruitment? What if they just… keep going?”

  Kaiser stared back at her.

  “Then we remind Brockton Bay who holds this city’s spine together.”

  Outside, the fog was beginning to burn off, sunlight glinting on a line of parked cars below. The tension in the room seemed to settle, if only for a moment. Plans were forming. Observers would be deployed. Surveillance was already sweeping the east docks.

  Everything was being put back in order.

  And then the explosion hit.

  A thunderclap of pressure and flame lit the skyline—just beyond the industrial zone. Kaiser and the others turned in unison to the window. A column of smoke rose behind the warehouses, flickering with an orange pulse.

  It wasn’t subtle.

  It wasn’t accidental.

  And it wasn’t over.

  Kaiser narrowed his eyes.

  So much for order.

  Velocity

  Velocity tore through the narrow back streets of Brockton Bay, a scarlet streak against damp concrete. His boots flickered over puddles, each footfall a calculated burst of speed that left onlookers blinking in disbelief.

  Above him, the chase unfolded in three dimensions—Seraph darting through the sky, leaving a green trail of light in his wake and three capes in swift pursuit.

  Lady Photon was in the lead, eyes fixed on the violet‐plated figure skirting between rooftops. Dauntless trailed behind her, his spear crackling with a charged arc, probing for an opening. But it was Glory Girl who stole the sky’s attention.

  She dove in tight spirals, intent on bringing Seraph down in a single, decisive strike.

  Velocity couldn’t fly. He couldn’t hurl energy or blunt wings with super strength. His gift was speed. As each blast and bolt rent the air overhead, chunks of billboard and fragments of light constructs rained down. He shuttled terrified pedestrians—an elderly woman clutching her purse, a group of teenagers staring wide‐eyed—into recessed alcoves and behind overturned newspaper stands.

  Every time debris rattled the pavement, he was there to usher the next person clear.

  He sprang back into the fray. Down the block, a utility pole cracked under Dauntless’s redirected impulse. Its base groaned, then snapped, spraying a cascade of shattered wires.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Velocity sped forward, swerving a group of office workers to safety just before the lines collapsed into a humming pile. The workers vanished inside a doorway, uncertain what had saved them but grateful all the same.

  Up above, Glory Girl’s latest dive had forced Seraph to bank sharply—and the shockwave from her punch knocked a streetlight free of its casing when it missed. The lamp tumbled, glass shattering in slow motion.

  Velocity caught a glimpse of the light’s descent, ran at top speed, and waved bystanders out of the crater it carved in the pavement. No one was hit. He exhaled and sprinted on, adrenaline sharpening his focus.

  He knew why the attacks were so fierce.

  Shadow Stalker had been hurt—severely enough that word had spread through cape comms. No one had the complete details, but Seraph was implicated as being the one responsible. Hence, Lady Photon and Dauntless weren’t holding back as much as they usually would.

  As for Glory Girl…it was more difficult to tell the difference.

  Unfortunately, looking up from the ground, the fight looked more brutal than would normally be expected from heroes. They were definitely taking a PR hit for this, but the takedown of Shadow Stalker by Seraph was apparently public enough that the decision to take the gloves off could be justified.

  Velocity slipped into a narrow opening between two low walls, ushering four frightened commuters ahead of him. One of them, a delivery driver drenched in rain, managed a shaky nod. “Thanks, man,” she panted as he guided her behind a reinforced storefront.

  He crouched, scanning for the next threat zone. A pair of office interns huddled at the corner, cellphones raised to capture the aerial spectacle. He waved them down and pointed to the opposite curb. They darted away, eyes glued skyward.

  “Stay low,” he muttered, more to himself than them.

  Then he sprinted into an open plaza where glass shards sparkled like black diamonds on the flagstones. A bolt from Dauntless streaked across the sky, missing Seraph by inches, and exploded against a brick fa?ade, sending a flurry of mortar flying. Velocity rounded the corner and waved a group of tourists into a recessed stairwell.

  “Velocity to Dauntless,” he snapped while holding his earpiece, “watch your shots! You and Lady Photon are raining bricks on civilians!”

  “I am!” came the response. “He must have a Thinker power. His reaction time is insane!”

  That was problematic. The Trump had already tried grappling the winged cape and got thrown into the sky for his troubles. It seems that the city’s latest parahuman headliner is a Brute on top of everything else.

  He glanced up. Seraph hovered just above the roofline, breathing hard, wings drooping like exhausted sails. If nothing else, the cape doesn’t seem to have unlimited stamina.

  Glory Girl arced in for another pass, fist drawn back. Lady Photon and Dauntless flanked her, ready to squeeze him from two sides.

  Velocity’s jaw clenched. He raced toward the edge of a courtyard, herding a pair of late‐night shift workers behind a parked van. One turned to ask him a question—grateful and terrified—and he shook his head, signaling silence. There was no time.

  The chase circled above. Seraph drifted over a park fountain that was already cracked and leaking from earlier blasts. Velocity skidded in next to a cluster of bicycles, yanked free a baby stroller that had rolled into a puddle, and guided its apropos mother to dry ground.

  He felt the hiss of Glory Girl’s aura as she screamed skyward. Seraph banked, but only ever to evade, block, or parry—not to retaliate. The city trembled with each clash of powers, and Velocity’s heart strained against his ribs.

  Why wasn’t Seraph fighting back?

  A distant siren wailed as emergency crews arrived. But they weren’t trained for this. They wouldn’t step into a crossfire of capes.

  Velocity pressed on. Everywhere he looked, someone was in danger.

  He blinked and looked up one final time. Glory Girl dove again, but Seraph slipped the strike and shot skyward, vanishing behind a ridge of tenements.

  Unwilling to lose their quarry, the heroes stayed on his tail. The glowing, green streak made this easier than it otherwise would have been.

  The chase had stretched nearly a mile from the naval district to the north docks, weaving between warehouses, over freight containers, and through one shattered community plaza. Seraph’s violet form dipped and bobbed—still elusive but undeniably slowing. Each time Lady Photon, Dauntless, or Glory Girl landed a glancing blow, Seraph faltered for a heartbeat longer.

  Velocity stayed below, weaving among the shadows of overturned crates and crumbling crates of cargo. He funneled frightened dockworkers and stray cats away from the impact zones, staff of forklifts and steel-toed boots finding refuge behind shipping containers he directed them toward. The acrid tang of superheated light constructs mingled with diesel fumes—an urban battlefield.

  Up above, Dauntless twirled his spear, charging for another strike. Lady Photon launched a cascade of energy beams aimed at Seraph’s wings. Glory Girl pursued heel-to-toe, mounting frustration evident in the shouts accompanying her punches.

  Seraph slid past the onslaught, but his grace was fraying.

  Velocity crouched behind a stack of pallets as a blast from Dauntless’s spear seared the air overhead. Sparks rained down two containers away. He darted out and waved a quartet of new arrivals into the safety of an adjacent warehouse, then retreated, eyes on the sky.

  Glory Girl banked hard and closed the distance. This time, her fist curved backward—not to punch, but to trap. In one fluid motion, she wrapped her arms around Seraph’s torso in a powerful bear hug, pinning his arms from behind.

  For a split second, the night cityscape stilled.

  Then Seraph’s desperate scream cracked the air even as he tried and failed to pry open Glory Girl’s steel grip.

  “No, don’t!”

  Lightning arced in jagged filaments across Seraph’s violet armor, branching from the crystal on his chest. The glow intensified—white-hot and erratic—until the energy exploded outward like a live wire.

  Glory Girl’s arms spasmed. The brilliance pulsed and broke her forcefield in a shower of sparks. She stiffened, then started falling from the sky.

  Velocity sprang forward, speed flickering like strobe light. Dauntless pivoted overhead, spearlight winking out. He broke away from the chase and dove toward the smoking form of the young heroine.

  The speedster only had enough time to hear a howl of rage before the sky lit up with a shower of explosive light.

  Alfred

  I honestly don’t think I could have fumbled the ball harder if I tried. The afternoon’s events were a blur since Shadow Stalker found me on that rooftop. How she did that, I still didn’t know. She didn’t even let me explain, though, I’m not sure why I expected anything different.

  The girl was notorious among the fandom for being one of the most unlikable characters in the series. With this being a world that featured literal roving murderhobos and a living embodiment of all sex crimes, that says a lot about her.

  Naturally, I tried to make a quick getaway as soon as I saw the crossbow bolt heading my way. Brute, I may be, but I still didn’t want to test if my eye could resist getting poked by sharp objects.

  It was just my luck that dearest Sophia proved to be tenacious - or maybe pigheaded would be a better word.

  Looking back, maybe I should have expected things to go this way. Being so close to Winslow was just one taunt too many for Murphy.

  After jumping off the roof, I got ready to shift into Dragoon form. This was where the universe decided to take another massive dump on me.

  See, I wanted the Darkness Dragoon Spirit. Its speed would have allowed me to escape faster. What I didn’t count on was for the Spirits to take the choice out of my hands. I’ve had time to examine the whys behind the clusterfuck since then even as I played the most dangerous game of tag over Brockton Bay’s airspace.

  Fans of Worm would have known Shadow Stalker’s weakness to electricity. I did, and was actually planning on using that vulnerability in the future. It would seem that the Violet Dragoon Spirit had other ideas. This development had so many terrifying implications that I didn’t know where to begin.

  But I digress.

  Caught by surprise as I was, my reaction time was hampered when Sophia decided to try and tackle me just as I finished transforming. What made her decide on such a stupid approach currently escapes me, but this was where the trouble really started.

  In an act supremely contrary to her character, the girl apparently called in to report her discovery of me before engaging. This went against everything I knew of Shadow Stalker.

  She was an abrasive, irredeemable bully who clung to faux Darwinian philosophy to justify her lone wolf pretence. Trying to take down the city’s newest ‘villain’ without telling anyone would be just like the professional coward and hypocrite.

  Unlike Taylor, who could rationalize working with her for the greater good, I had no such hangups. Sophia’s death or removal from the picture was already set in stone.

  The same went for Emma and Madison.

  I would have just appreciated having the chance to avoid being implicated in the crime/public service.

  Well, it’s too late now.

  Even though it was through no fault of my own, Shadow Stalker getting zapped and then falling ten stories before hitting the edge of a dumpster was still pretty damning. That Dauntless and Lady Photon arrived in time to witness that exact moment…do I really need to elaborate?

  So, yeah. I got chased through the skies of the Bay, once more. This time, it was by a trio (where the heck did Glory Girl even come from?!) of heroes who had no trouble inflicting damage on me.

  Don’t get me wrong. I dodged most of their attacks - more than I expected to, if I were honest. But these were capes who had more experience with aerial combat than I did. Two of them knew each other’s attack patterns quite well and could seamlessly work together. The third had really good aim.

  As the pursuit dragged on, with me finding it impossible to break away, the heroes gradually got better at fencing me in. In contrast, I came close to losing my head a few times, both figuratively and literally.

  Victoria was NOT pulling her punches.

  Oh, and the damage to both people and property. Can’t forget about that. Though I’m doing my best to push certain screams of pain and fear to the back of my mind, at the moment.

  Survive first, drown in guilt later.

  I did my best to lead the heroes away from populated areas, but they were playing a much rougher game than I expected. Seeing what happened to Sophia must have lit a fire under their butts.

  With that said, there was a reason why I liked to plan my encounters. I’m really, really bad at improvising.

  Against just Dauntless or Photon Mom? I could win, no question.

  Against all three? With no sleep, hardly any food, minimal prep time, and virtually zero training with my powers? I should have been lathered in Containment Foam and on my way to PRT custody by now.

  When I felt Glory Girl’s gorilla arms wrap around my torso, I finally lost my shit. I already had one accidental electrocution today and was not looking to add another.

  But of course, Vicky just had to swoop in—Collateral Damage Barbie herself—armed with the judgment of a caffeinated toddler and the subtlety of an asteroid strike. Why settle for being a cocky flying brick when you could be a self-propelled concussion dispenser?

  And who was going to pay for her being a reckless little shit?

  Me. As proven by the storm of laser beams that an enraged Lady Photon was sending my way.

  By this point, some people may rightly ask why I’m not fighting back.

  At first, it was because I didn’t want to deal with the hassle. I knew how these things would go. Escalation is the name of the game in this here neighborhood and ol’ uncle Sam might get roped into the mess, along with the local deep state doodoo heads.

  Now, though? With one of New Wave’s more level-headed adults attacking with lethal intent? I had to make a choice.

  So, I did just that.