Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Priapus, Marethyu, Malcolm Tent, Beans
The Guild of Gamers: The Occult
Chapter 10: Shit hits the fan.
– Alexander Shaw (Ebonstar) –
Panacea is a ticking time bomb, ready to blow and cause a shitshow on a scale that Brockton Bay hasn't seen before. They've had heroes go villain. They've had heroes die. But such a beloved, and needed, hero like Panacea falling to levels of corruption and depravity that would impress Heartbreaker? That's new.
Naturally, it's in my best interest to make sure that I am nowhere near the blast when that timer hits zero and Panacea gets caught.
"Hello again, Ebon," Miss Militia greets as I arrive on the Rig for my power testing. I want an alibi for when things go south, and who better to confirm that I wasn't anywhere near Panacea than the PRT themselves. "Or is it Ebonstar? In truth, we've had trouble working even that much out."
"It's Ebonstar, but Ebon works just as well," I confirm with a confident smile. No Annie, interesting. I was sure they'd have her be the one to handle my testing. Has something already happened with New Wave? I've been stringing them along, and they think it's a power play on my part (they're right), but it also means that showing up in the dead of night with no real warning is equally seen as the power play of an arrogant, narcissistic man.
Again, they're right, but only half right.
I suppose Annie could simply not have been able to come in at the short notice that I gave them. I remember reading that Miss Militia is a Noctis Cape, so I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised that she's the one available to handle me on such short notice.
"Ah, I'll make sure it's put into your notes. You used Ebon last time we met, but Ebonstar online and in your communications so there was a little confusion over it," Miss Militia explains easily, her eyes crinkling to show the smile hidden behind her flag bandana. "I've been tasked with giving you a tour of the Rig while the lab coats finish setting up the testing room. We had it semi-prepared since you agreed to come in, but it's also used for other things, such as Armsmaster testing his creations, so it isn't quite ready."
"I do hope the late hour isn't too inconvenient. I wasn't sure how long this would take and I don't love the idea of being trapped in the Rig should the sun rise while I'm here," I explain easily, but she just waves me off.
"We expected as much, from what you told Starlight. Sunlight is a fairly unique weakness, but you're not the first cape we've dealt with whose power came with a downside," Miss Militia confirms. "Starlight mentioned that you were leaning toward the Protectorate but still hadn't completely decided?"
"Something like that. I've considered all my options, in both Brockton Bay and beyond, and the PRT seems the best fit. I did consider joining Faultline's crew as well, as they're on the greyer side of villainy and Faultline has a history of dealing with people with… unique circumstances, but decided against it for now," I admit shamelessly, seeing her eyes tighten at the casual mention of me becoming a villain, even just a mercenary one.
Faultline isn't really a problem for the local PRT since she doesn't take jobs in the local area, but she's still a villain who is well-established in their city.
"I suppose I could see the interest in Faultline. Are you a Case 53? That's something else we couldn't quite work out. You seemed to appear out of nowhere, and there's little record of you, but you also seem rather… put together for a Case 53," Miss Militia asks as she leads me inside.
"I have some memories, fragmented as they may be, and I don't have any strange tattoos on my body. Still, I can't say I know how I ended up in Brockton Bay either, or where I came from for that matter," I 'admit' softly, letting a momentary frown cross my lips. "But I pride myself on being adaptable. Settling in was not overly difficult."
I have had to use my powers to deal with the fact that I don't exist according to this world's system. I have no birth certificate, social security number or any of the other pieces of paper that would allow me to more easily work within the legal system.
"Fortunately, the PRT can help with that as well. As I said, you aren't the first cape we've dealt with that had special circumstances, and the protocols that exist for Case 53s can be extended to you, assuming we can't track down your origin ourselves," Miss Militia replies. "Did you consider other heroic groups, or just remaining independent?"
So far, I've admitted to considering becoming a villain and that I'm essentially an illegal immigrant, which also means they know I've been working around my illegal status this entire time since I have no doubt they know my real identity. And she has barely reacted.
Either she's not very good at this, and doesn't realise she's showing the PRT's desperation a little too much, or she's the good cop for the soon to appear bad cop.
"I did, but New Wave has a simple problem. It's a family unit, and even if they are willing to accept a new recruit, there is always going to be that distance between an outsider and the family," I say, making her nod in acceptance of my point. "The Guild also came up, but they're a long way from Brockton Bay, and travelling can be difficult when the sun is your enemy. Besides, I didn't really want to leave Brockton Bay; I feel a calling to this place. Finally, staying independent? It's a possibility, but there's always a limit to the effectiveness of people working alone."
The tour is interesting enough, but again, it reveals more than they likely intended it to. You can find virtual tours of some PRT headquarters, including New York. New York, even in the video, is clearly a state-of-the-art facility with brand new everything. The Rig is more worn down, with computers that look like they're getting to the end of their lifecycle. The paint isn't fresh, and there's barely a skeleton crew around, despite the fact that crime is more active at night.
Underfunded, understaffed.
Brockton Bay is not a priority for the PRT, and that just won't do. I'm not going to settle for substandard funding and equipment. If I'm to join the Protectorate, I'll have to ensure that this place is brought up to my standards. Miss Militia is happy to answer any questions I have as we continue the tour.
Credit where it is due, they finish preparing the power testing room in short order. Or it was prepared this whole time, and this was their own power play.
The testing starts with them testing me strength, speed and endurance, while some egghead in a white coat peppers me with questions. I think Miss Militia notices my growing annoyance and steps in to take over the questioning.
"So, your powers just keep developing?" Miss Militia finally asks, the question that has been on her tongue the entire time. Trumps that increase their own power aren't unheard of, but I put Dauntless to shame with his little empowerment trick. In a fraction of the time, I've caught up with him and surpassed him.
"It seems to coincide with my thirst for blood. Often the bursts of growth come after a feeding. Blood isn't just food for me, it's a source of energy. Some of my powers need blood to fuel them," I explain, seeing no reason to hide this. "But they are also developing as I use them, and over time as well. My Thinker powers came out of seemingly nowhere, for instance."
"And they just keep growing? Most powers would have settled by now," Miss Militia asks, clearly fishing for more.
"They do. The more I use them and the more I feed, the more my powers grow. If they have an upper limit, I know I am nowhere near it. I have an instinctive understanding of my powers, and I can tell they are far from fully developed," I boast easily.
My strength is impressive, but I don't have the actual Discipline for strength yet, unlike my speed and endurance. I am mildly annoyed to find that Velocity is apparently faster than me, but he cannot interact with the world while moving at superspeed, and I can.
As it turns out, I don't necessarily need super strength when I'm hitting things at over a hundred miles per hour. My strength when not boosted by my speed is enough to get me a minor Brute rating, but the fact that I'm given a minor anything makes me plan to hunt down a Brute soon and fix that. Fortitude is enough to increase that Brute rating. Again, it's a lower-level Brute rating, which tells me that I need to be more careful than I thought. If I'm a minor Brute, then I need to be prepared for when I encounter someone stronger.
My speed, however, gets me a far nicer rating.. The fact that I'm almost as fast as Velocity, but I can actually interact with the world at that speed, makes me a major threat to most things.
Not many people have a plan for someone ripping off their head at super speed.
Essentially, with my speed and endurance, there's not much that could stop me from just running through most unpowered people or non-brute capes.
It goes without saying that I don't show off my Master or Stranger powers. I've done my research, and both of those classifications come with a mountain of restrictions. I do show off my Presence, but my [Awe] and [Dread Gaze] effectively do what Glory Girl's aura can do but with more control, and they do exactly what I expected and put them down as 'Shaker' powers. Same as they've done for Gallant, same as they've done for Glory Girl.
I also show off my new Protean skills. I want to make it clear that I have a lot of powers and they shouldn't look too deeply at any one power if it happens to resemble something a missing cape happens to have had. That's part of why I've shown off my Presence since it looks so much like Glory Girl's aura when we've never actually interacted.
The more powers I show off, the more I muddy their attempts to identify the source of my powers. Protean lets me gain webbing to swim faster, grow claws, alter my eyes to give myself perfect night vision, lower my weight to nothing, and sink into the earth. As expected, they basically shrugged and gave me a generic, fairly low Changer/Breaker rating.
As for my Obtenebration, I had to show it off because some of the girls from the Farm saw me in action, and they saw the ropes made of shadow. Luckily, my own Shadow powers are very different to Grue's boring mist, so even if they realise the Undersiders are missing, they shouldn't be able to link me to Grue.
And finally, my healing…
As I admit that I've recently developed two different healing powers, the room basically grinds to a halt. Even with my explanation of my two healing powers, the ability to drain my supply of vitae to heal another or myself, and that my saliva has developed healing properties, it becomes clear that healing is tested far more thoroughly than the usual, more laid-back testing that I'm currently going through.
But they can't call Panacea over to the Rig this late at night, it's past midnight at this point. This isn't an emergency, but at the same time… they don't want me to leave without testing this power.
Which is why I'm not overly surprised that Miss Militia calls a brief pause to the testing to prepare for this next stage. What I am surprised to learn is that the Director is still in the building this late at night.
Sitting in front of her, I have to hold back a scoff at the not-so-subtle power plays on display. My seat is shorter than hers, but even still, I'm looking eye to eye with the corpulent bloated excuse of a woman. [Auguring the Sickness] reveals her missing kidneys, and the fact that the Director of a branch with direct access to Panacea is still crippled tells me everything I need to know about her mental state. She hates capes.
"Is there a problem, Director? I can't help but sense you don't like me," I say, lounging in my seat. I stop myself from putting my feet on her neat desk, but that's as much mercy as I give her. My posture, my tone, and my expression are all designed to look superior and dismissive.
"I dislike when capes carelessly upend the delicate power balance I work to achieve," Emily Piggot finally responds.
"Oh, have I inconvenienced you by saving all those girls from being forced into a life of sexual slavery by the ABB?" I ask, matching her disdain with my mockery. "Or was it the defeat of Skidmark, a joke of a gang leader that you couldn't keep in prison before I… disarmed him, that stings so much?"
She doesn't respond for a moment, much to my surprise. Despite her clear distaste for me, she's not easily taunted.
"You're powerful, but uncontrolled. You run around the city doing as you please, uncaring of the chaos you leave in your wake. Shutting down the Farm was undeniably good, and yet the Empire has run amok over the ABB territory because Oni Lee hasn't been seen since. Lung is still missing after being driven away from New York, but he never remains quiet for long. The Merchants have gone to ground, and it seems the defeat of her partner has sent Squealer down a far more brutal path," Piggot responds. "Every action has a reaction. That's the job of the PRT, to prepare for those reactions."
"While taking no action. I've done more for the city in a month than you have in years, and it stings, doesn't it?" I ask, uncaring of her reaction. She's ugly and weak, two things I find distasteful. "Or is it the fact that your higher-ups will value me more than they do you, despite your years of service, because I happen to be powerful?."
She goes silent at that, eyes narrowing.
"I think you're an arrogant narcissist who thinks that power means he can do whatever he wants," Piggot finally responds. "But you're right. I hate that you are, but the good guys are laughably outnumbered by the villains, and you're too strong to be left to your own devices, with so many gangs sniffing around you."
"Only the weak complain about power, only the ugly complain about the narcissism of the beautiful," I shrug, doing nothing to hide my disdain. I'm not going to kiss her ass, she's the one who wants me, I have options. I could just leave Brockton and join another branch, and while a part of her would like that… can she risk letting me go?
Again, I just called her weak and ugly, but beyond a scoff, she doesn't react. She's self-aware, she knows what she is and that I'm speaking the truth. Despite my distaste, I can't help but be slightly impressed. She wasn't sitting around waiting for me; she was genuinely working well into the night.
"Protectorate capes are expected to follow orders, to act responsibly. Can you do that?" Piggot asks, making me smile.
"I'm sure the world will find me to be the perfect paragon. A living example of the word 'hero'," I reply lazily, not answering the question. Annie will have passed on that I have problems with authority, and I can almost see her trying to work out if I'm worth the effort.
A knock at the door breaks our uncomfortable silence, Miss Militia telling us that the next stage of the training is ready. With barely a word, Piggot dismisses me and Miss Militia spends the walk back reassuring me that Piggot isn't as bad as she seems.
— Emily Piggot –
She really wanted to kick Ebon out, but that wasn't an option.
She knew what Watchdog had said about him and why the Chief Director wanted him on board, but he was a problem. The Thinktank claimed that he was a hyper-narcissist and would thrive as a hero because he was too much of a gloryhound to fail. He lived for the spotlight and becoming a famous hero was the best way to gain it.
But his eyes…
They weren't the eyes of a narcissist. They were the eyes of a predator. She could almost see the bloodlust behind his arrogant mask. Ebon was a monster, but damn it all, he was a monster they needed on their side if he was going to keep developing more and more powers. She'd been deliberately antagonistic to try to break his mask, but he wore it well. If it wasn't for the look in his eyes, she'd have seen him as just another glory hound with delusions of grandeur.
He reminded her of an older, more composed Shadow Stalker. That violent little psychopath was making zero progress in her mandatory therapy; her violent tendencies were only growing with every… unscheduled patrol she disappeared on. Hess thought she was a genius, but did she really think that the reports of Empire and ABB thugs showing up in the hospital with crossbow bolts in them hadn't reached the PRT?
And yet, she was deemed too useful to throw away, so Hess remained a Ward. A violent, angry Ward, who argued with everyone and barely hid her psychotic tendencies. The issue was that Ebon was smarter than Hess. As much as she wanted to call him an arrogant fool, he clearly knew the game. His little verbal debate with Armsmaster showed that.
Ghoul was an old case that even they had to go digging for, and yet there it was. The original Case 37, a cape whose dietary needs had changed due to their powers. Ebon had done his research, and he knew how to weaponise the Birdcaging of Ghoul, a mostly harmless cape whose only crime was robbing graves and morticians to feed his horrific diet. He knew the rules, he knew which of them he could bend and which ones he could freely break without consequences. Managing him would be far worse than handling a little psycho like Sophia Hess.
He'd freely attacked women in the streets to feed on them, dismembered Skidmark, and she would eat her dialysis machine if he didn't have a mountain of other crimes hidden away, and yet… the PRT would welcome him with open arms because of his growing powers. His blasé remark of joining Faultline and her crew was basically a challenge, a mockery that he'd become a villain if they didn't match his 'standards' and the Chief Director would crucify her for letting him slip away. A constantly growing Trump who could heal? Yeah, no shit the PRT would value him over a mere mortal like her. He knew his value and she hated him for it.
By willingly coming in, he'd tied her hands. If they fucked up the recruitment, and he went villain, she'd look like she drove him away. So, despite how much she couldn't stand that smug, superior smile, they'd have to pucker up and kiss his pale ass to get him onboard and bound by the Protectorate rules.
– Hana (Miss Militia) –
Ebon was rather arrogant, but she'd been warned by Annie that he had an ego. Honestly she was surprised that things had gone as well with Piggot as they did, because she was practically radiating displeasure when Hana came to collect Ebon.
Her mindset was simple. Ebon may be arrogant, but he had an incredible amount of potential. He'd taken down two major villains. Well one and a half since she didn't want to give Skidmark that much credit, given how many drugs were in his system when they'd taken him into custody. His actions in freeing the girls from the Farm had won him a lot of wiggle room in her books, because actions spoke louder than words.
Yes, he was arrogant, but with his strength, she could see why he'd be that way. He was perfectly affable before Armsmaster butted in, and he'd simply matched Armsmaster's lack of tact with his arrogance. When she'd met him during the aftermath of the Farm, he'd been far more relaxed and frankly, heroic.
She didn't miss the way Queen Maeve was watching Ebon. Director Piggot had called Maeve back from her patrol, and Miss Militia couldn't help but suspect it wasn't for the sake of recruitment. She wanted a strong cape around, just in case something went wrong.
Maeve's posture told her that Maeve was ready for combat. Ebon could tell as well, and his posture went from the relaxed way he'd acted during the first round of testing to a far more dismissive stance. Again, he reacted to the way people treated him, and she couldn't help but think Piggot was going about this wrong.
But it wasn't her place to disagree with the decisions of her superior officers.
Ebon's healing was exactly as he described. He seemed to have an unnatural understanding of his powers that she almost envied. His saliva truly was a healing reagent, though they'd bottled some up to be tested by Panacea later. Youth Guard would string them up if they woke her up at 3am for the sake of testing. She already knew that Brandish and Youth Guard squabbled over Panacea's 'working hours'.
His second form of healing was far stronger and faster, but it required him to consume the energy he gained from drinking blood to use. They'd tried to give him a blood bag to help recover, but he found the taste disgusting and explained that blood lost much of its 'power' shortly after leaving the body. It was apparently similar to the difference between a fresh meal and rancid,
days-old meat. He evaded the question of where he had been getting his blood, only joking that someone as good looking as him had never had trouble getting willing partners before.
His evasive response only made Maeve stiffen more, her stance becoming more defensive. Maeve had been happy to hear that the Farm had been taken down, and had requested permission to hunt down Lung while he was away from the city, but that had been denied. At the same time, she wasn't pleased by Ebon's previous actions of feeding on civilians, as all the victims had been young, beautiful females.
Still, it would be very good to have a healing cape on their roster, freeing them from their reliance on Panacea. More healing was never a bad thing.
Given how tonight was going, she was barely surprised when a brief alert sounded through the rig, calling for all active heroes to respond to a situation. Maeve went off, ordering her to remain with a mildly curious Ebon, who simply returned to demonstrating his healing.
— Amelia Dallon (Panacea) –
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
She should have been more careful, the haze leaving her mind at the sheer direness of her current situation. Nude, sticky and coated in sweat and other juices, she cursed herself. All she'd had to do was be a bit more cautious, and she could have stopped this from going so wrong, but she'd been too enamoured with the power and freedom she was enjoying.
"Amy-" Annie trailed off, a mixture of horror and disgust on her face as she looked down at Amy and her… parents. "What have you done?"
Also nude, Carol moved in front of her defensively, two blades in her hands. Then, there was her… father. Mark was also standing in front of her, but… well, he didn't look like Mark, did he?
A near-perfect replica of Victoria, except one… addition, Mark didn't show any worry about his new look as he prepared one of his orbs of light, ready to attack
She could have undone this, hidden the evidence before the morning came. She hadn't expected Annie to visit, but she should have. Vicky was closer to Annie than most of the family, Vicky would have called Annie after Amy had Carol send Vicky away. Damn it.
She should have called Vicky back, she could have fixed- she could have prevented this from happening.
"I didn't- I just-" Amy tried, but she knew that nothing she said would matter. She'd been caught having a threesome with two very obviously mastered people. What could she possibly say that would fix this?!
"Amy… I- Order them to stand down," Annie, no Starlight, said, glowing with energy. "Please, don't make this any worse than it already is."
"So you can Birdcage me, for what? Fixing these… broken fools? All I did was make them love me, like they were supposed to from the start," Amy finally spat back, her stubbornness rearing its ugly head. "This wouldn't have happened if they just- No. No, I'm not backing down."
For the first time in her life, she felt free, and they wanted to take it away from her. She should have gotten Vicky as well. She should have moved their… fun to the bedroom, so Annie wouldn't see it the moment she entered. She should have waited to get the entire family and cover her tracks. But she didn't, and now she had to clean up her own mess for once. It was almost freeing. She wasn't fixing Vicky's fuck ups, she wasn't being pimped out to the PRT by Carol. No, this time it was all her.
"Love? Amy, this isn't-" Starlight said, going quiet. She went to speak again, but she waited too long as Amy nodded, her mind made up. She knew the PRT well enough to know that other heroes would be coming their way. They had to end this quickly.
Mark moved at her command, tossing two orbs at Annie, both exploding with far more force than she'd expected. Maybe she thought her uncle would hold back against her, but she thought wrong. She was learning what Amy had learnt years ago, family didn't mean a damn thing.
The explosions of light made her wince, bright enough to hurt her eyes despite the distance, and they sent Starlight spinning away before she recovered, scorched but alive. Amy turned and ran back into the house, her mind racing as she tried to come up with a plan to survive this.
She could hear the fighting outside, Carol and Mark finally standing up for her as they fought off Starlight, but Amy was busy elsewhere. Any biological material would suffice, and right now she had quite a bit on her to work with. Within seconds, semen, saliva and juices shifted and became something new entirely and ate through the floor. This was not exactly what she'd call the best plan, all things considered, but it was the best she had on short notice.
Vicky had once demolished the ground-floor bathroom in something the family had only jokingly referred to as the 'incident', and she'd seen the sewers beneath. They were hardly big enough to walk through, but she could crawl. More importantly, nobody would follow her down there.
Within seconds, her new creation had eaten through concrete and dirt to expose the sewers, and she didn't think twice, past the point of caring about anything but clinging to her freedom. As she landed in the refuge, it shifted and changed. Let them come for her, let them chase her. She had all the biological material she needed down here. Her latest creation rose behind her, blocking the way and ensuring that anyone who wanted to follow her would soon regret it, and she ran. Well, crawled.
She crawled until it opened up enough for her to run. She didn't know where she was going, only that it was as far from those who would lock her up as possible. She didn't deserve…
No, she did deserve to be Birdcaged but she just didn't give a fuck anymore. She wasn't their slave anymore, she wasn't going to endlessly work herself to the bone as their little heal slut. Tonight had ruined everything, and she regretted nothing except that she hadn't covered her tracks well enough.
In the sewer tunnels, she could hear the sounds of movement, making her grimace as she prepared to turn the waste she was pushing through into a weapon against her pursuer.
"Man, you really made a mess, huh?" a lazy voice asked, making her stare at the figure that had just… appeared. Not a teleporter, the mess they were in moved too much. He was just that fast. "I caught the light show, figured I'd come see what all the fuss was about. Almost worth wading through all this sewage."
"Who-" Amy tried, gasping as a swarm of emotion overwhelmed her mind, feeling like every emotion was dialled up to eleven. She'd been hit by Gallant's blasts before, and this felt similar in a lot of ways. The man, boy really, dashed forward and grabbed her with an amused smile on his handsome face. In an instant, she prepared to turn him into a ball of misshapen flesh. In an instant, that plan died as her eyes snapped open. "You… you're…"
"Dead? Cool, right?" her attacker said. "Man, I hope the boss man doesn't kill me for this, but you're way too funny to let get grabbed. Hang on tight, Pan-Pan, I'm getting us out of this shit. Literally, I have enhanced senses and this mess is bad."
"Who the fuck are you?" Amy demanded, making him grin.
"Alec. Let's just say I know a thing or two about shitty parents. Trust me, you'll want to meet my boss, but first, why don't you go to sleep?" Alec asked, making her furrow her brows in confusion. Why would she want to slee- "Man, he's gonna beat my ass for this one, isn't he? Ah well."
Alec's lazy, uncaring words were the lullaby to her dark dreams as she passed out in his arms.
– Alexander Shaw (Ebonstar) –
I don't know whether to kiss or kill Alec. After putting so much effort into making sure I was nowhere near the scene of the crime, my curious childe decided to go and stick his fucking nose into it?
Still, this isn't the end of the world as he squirrels away Panacea and I direct him back to the manor, where he was supposed to be. I can't blame him that much, he's still on that Toreador high mixed with his own muted emotions coming back in full force. He's a younger, more careless me.
As long as my part goes well, it isn't like I can't recover from-
My musings are interrupted as Armsmaster arrives at the training area, fully armoured up and with a truly fierce look on his bearded face.
"Armsmaster? We're just finishing up the testing-" Miss Militia starts, cut off by him brandishing the halberd he's so known for.
"Alexander Shaw, Ebonstar, you're under arrest," Armsmaster says, making me pause and stare at him in disbelief. I'm not the only one, because everyone else in the room seems equally confused.
"On what charges, Armsmaster? Hurting your feelings?" I ask, my tone mocking as I rise to my full height.
"Murder, torture, rape, kidnapping, mastering civilians and capes. The orders come from the Chief Director's office, you were truly arrogant to assume we wouldn't learn the truth," Armsmaster says, his halberd sparking with energy. "Surrender. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."
As he speaks, any look of amusement on my face vanishes and is replaced with a dark, dangerous glare. In the back of my mind, I remember the last time someone listed out the charges right before my imprisonment, awaiting execution.
Miss Militia looks between us, shock clear on her face despite the bandana, her weapon shifting through several forms before it takes the form of some kind of revolver. She picks her side, moving away and taking aim at me.
"Ebon, I don't know what is going on, but if you're innocent, don't do anything foolish. This is the very heart of the PRT. If you're innocent, the system will prove it," Miss Militia says quietly, but she's a follower at heart, and she's just been told that the head office wants me taken down.
"Surrender?" I ask, looking down my nose at the pair. "You expect me to just roll over for this farce? I came here, willing to cooperate with the Protectorate, to join up, and you think you can unmask me and demand I surrender to such ludicrous charges? I think not."
"Last warning, Ebon. Give up. You can't hope to win here," Armsmaster repeats, watching as I look around with a disdainful stare.
In that instant, I go over every single option I have available to me. Every possible choice and every outcome that would follow. I… he can't have proof, right? How could he? Maybe I should bend the knee, play the part of the beaten dog…
Then I see the look on his face, mostly hidden behind his mask. The way his lips twitch, just for a moment, triumphantly. He thinks he's won. He thinks he's better than me.
I'm going to rip out his throat.
— Bonus Scene — Rebecca Costa-Brown (Alexandria)
Her plan had gone to shit, and she knew exactly who to blame.
She'd wanted to get Ebon into the Protectorate, because his ego would be easily soothed by making him some grand hero, and they could take advantage of his growing powers and ability to spread those powers to others. She didn't like him, it hurt the part of her that still saw herself as a hero to recruit Ebon instead of putting him down when he was essentially a much stronger Heartbreaker, but she was good at ignoring that part.
No, she planned to have him rise to the top of the Protectorate branch, using his fame as a chain. He'd play nice as long as playing nice kept him in the spotlight, that was Number Man and Contessa's analysis.
But Contessa couldn't path him, and more importantly, neither could other Thinkers.
Coil's powers were being crippled by Ebon, and he'd taken the chance to take Ebon off the board. The snake she'd left in the grass had finally risen up to bite her, because she'd expected him to continue hiding under a rock.
Watching as everything went south, she considered her options for a long moment before she made up her mind. Alexandria was needed in Brockton Bay.