The Operator stood over the bed in silence.
Riley slept curled on her side, knees drawn in, Buttons pressed against her stomach. One small hand was tangled in the dog's fur like she was afraid he might vanish if she let go. Her breathing was slow and even. No tension in her shoulders. No twitching fingers from old tinker muscle memory. No signs of a nightmare waiting to take her joy away.
For the first time since he'd started this mess, she was actually resting.
"…She did it," Ordis said softly over the comms, his voice trembling with barely contained excitement. "Operator, Ordis is pleased to report neural stability across all monitored parameters. Emotional volatility is down. Stress response is normalizing. For the first time since intake, she is not in a constant state of internal crisis."
Her parents realized she and her brother were finally asleep and began whispering to each other in low, exhausted voices. Words like school, doctor, therapy drifted through the room.
The Operator made a mental note to see what strings he could quietly pull to put Riley into therapy faster. Nothing overt of course, direct manipulation of the simulation was against the rules.
"Finally," he said quietly, relief threading through his voice. "I'm glad I didn't kill this run early."
"Indeed!" Ordis chirped. "Run thirty-nine has exceeded all previous outcomes by a statistically significant margin. Ordis would like to formally congratulate the Operator on this breakthrough."
"You did good too, buddy," the Tenno said aloud. Then, more quietly, to himself, "Now I just need to figure out how to dig myself out of this hole."
Because it was a hole. A deep one.
He had given Riley the life she'd always wanted after joining the Nine. A loving family. Safety. Stability. A future that didn't involve killing, screaming, or monsters wearing human faces. Even if she could intellectually accept that this world was artificial—as the Operator strongly suspected she already had—there was no version of her that would want to leave it now.
And that was the problem.
He had no intention of keeping her trapped in a gilded cage. Rehabilitation wasn't meant to be imprisonment, and the line between the two was already starting to blur in ways he didn't like.
Before he could sink any deeper into that thought, Ordis cut in, his voice sharp with urgency.
"Operator, we have an external development."
The Tenno's focus snapped away from Riley's parents. "Report."
"Shade, whom you assigned to monitor Ms. Hebert, has just sent a distress signal," Ordis replied quickly. "She is currently engaged in active combat with the leader of the ABB."
The Operator blinked, the words taking a second to land.
"…What?"
Taylor Hebert. Bug control. The same girl who, earlier that day, had been having a breakdown in a school bathroom because of a handful of teenage bullies. That Taylor was now fighting Lung—arguably the most dangerous parahuman in the Bay, a brute pyrokinetic whose powers hard-countered hers almost perfectly.
While disbelief was still catching up to him, Ordis pushed a live feed into his vision. The HUD overlay was unmistakable: Shade's optics.
A rooftop filled the display. Night sky. Thick black smoke rolling across cracked concrete as fire licked and crawled along the surface. Lung dominated the frame, half-transformed—scales creeping up his arms and neck, jaw distended, flame bleeding from his mouth as he roared and swatted blindly at the air.
Then the optic dipped.
There she was.
A girl in black with familiar dark hair, wearing insect-themed armor, clinging to the hook-like appendages of Shade's hovering form as it wobbled under her weight, descending toward the street in a desperate attempt to pull her out of Lung's reach.
Below them, the road had vanished beneath a living storm.
Insects. Thousands of them. A churning, screaming cloud filling the street from wall to wall, moving with purpose, drowning the night in buzzing noise—no doubt meant to cover their escape.
The Operator swore under his breath.
"We need to move fast," he said immediately. "Send Umbra now and get me out of here."
"Yes, Operator," Ordis replied without hesitation. "But what about Riley?"
The Operator's form began to dissolve as Ordis started peeling him out of the simulation, layers of light and data unraveling around him.
"Maintain stability," he ordered. "No deviations. No time acceleration. Keep everything exactly as it is."
He spared one last glance at the sleeping girl.
"She'll be fine," he said firmly. "We can afford to look away for a moment."
The world faded around him as the extraction completed, and the quiet of Riley's room was replaced by the living room of his base, same as he left it with Ordis's drone body hovering close nearby.
He cast a glance at his Isaac body the second it entered his sight, face contemplative. It lay slumped on the couch where he'd left it, breathing slow and steady.
I'll save that for another time.
Then he was gone without a word to Ordis. Speaking was unnecessary. They were both on the same page.
Void energy flared as he dashed straight through the wall, the roof, and into the open night while invisible and intangible under void mode. The house vanished beneath him in a blink. He climbed fast and high, the city shrinking away until Brockton Bay was just a grid of lights and dark water.
He stopped high above it all and hovered in the cold air.
Even from miles out, the Docks were impossible to miss. Fire painted the skyline in ugly orange streaks. Smoke spread and climbed into the clouds in thick columns.
"Seems Umbra hasn't finished this yet," the Operator muttered. "Lung must already be deep into his transformation then."
No more watching then, it was time to bring the Dragon down.
He reached inward and used Transference—not to Umbra, not to the body on the couch but to another warframe which he had available to him this week.
Khora Prime.
The Warframe coalesced in midair over the Operators form like a second skin.
Then a second call followed immediately before gravity could assert itself over her.
The Itzal Archwing deployed in a snap of energy, locking onto lower Khora's back. Engines whined once, then screamed as thrust kicked in.
The city blurred as he crossed miles in seconds, wind screaming past as the Docks rushed up to meet him. Sirens wailed somewhere far below, drowned out by roaring flames and something much louder.
Lung roar.
The Archwing didn't slow down as the Operator got eyes on the fight.
Lung stood nearly fifteen feet tall now, his transformation well underway. Spear-like wing stubs jutted from his shoulders, twitching uselessly as heat rolled off his body in waves. His frame was warped and stretched, muscle and scale layered together in a way that barely resembled human anatomy anymore.
His neck was long, thick at the base and tapering as it rose to a skull that had gone sharp and predatory. His face was almost feline now, the nose and mouth fused into a single X-shaped opening filled with jagged teeth that caught the firelight when he roared.
Umbra's work was obvious. One hand and a leg were gone, regrowing in uneven, twitching masses. His chest and stomach were carved open, half-healed wounds glowing red-hot. A deep gash across his neck was sealing itself in real time, scales crawling back together before the Operator's eyes.
All of this registered in less than a second.
Then he focused on Umbra.
He was no longer in a suit and tie, nor wearing a human face. He was all warframe again and facing Lung with Skiajati poised to strike again. No obvious injuries.
Taylor was nowhere to be seen but from what he saw the map said of Shade's location right now, she was still nearby. Doing what, he didn't know but as long as she wasn't dead, it didn't matter.
Right now, the priority is Lung.
Despite knowing he couldn't do it, the Operator still thought about how easy it would be to kill the gang leader if he used just his archwing weapons or abilities.
One miniature black hole with Gravity Crush or a volley from the Mausolon and the Dragon man would be reduced to less than ash.
But there was no kill order on him, so the Archwing weapons stayed silent.
Done thinking about the easy way out, the Operator cut thrust and dove.
With the combined mass of Archwing and Warframe, Khora fell like a meteor, flames peeling away from her as she punched through columns of smoke and heat. Mid-descent, the Archwing disengaged and vanished into storage, leaving Khora to fall under her built momentum alone.
She arched her back smoothly, arms raised in the air.
Twin blades appeared in her hands as if they'd always belonged there.
Dual Keres Prime, Khora's signature twin swords.
The blades flashed against the fire light as Khora came down hard, driving both swords forward with her full weight and strength behind them. They punched into Lung's chest with a wet, brutal impact, bypassing scale, muscle, and bone like it wasn't there. Sizzling, superheated blood sprayed across her armor in a hiss of steam as the sheer force of the strike knocked him flat.
Concrete exploded beneath Lung's back as Khora rode him down, the impact crater spiderwebbing through the street pavement. He howled, the sound mangled and distorted by his half-draconic throat, flames still pouring from his body as he thrashed wildly. Claws scraped uselessly at melting asphalt, gouging deep trenches but failing to find leverage.
Khora ignored his wet, gurgling screams. She just planted a knee against his torso and leaned in. The blades were buried deep—deep enough to pierce his spine clean through his heart and lungs. She twisted them deliberately, grinding metal against bone and scales, tearing ruined flesh apart.
"Filthy mutt," she snarled, voice cold and venomous. "You'll pay for spilling your mongrel blood on me."
She twisted again, harder and this time Lungs' roar of pain was followed by two massive, clawed arms bursting from the smoke and fire, slamming inward to crush her between them like an insect.
Umbra moved when he did.
He surged forward so fast that his body seemed to blur, after images marking where he had been rather than where he was before both Lung's arms detonated into meaty, metal-laced chunks before they could even complete the motion.
But Umbra didn't stop with just that.
He flowed up Lung's writhing form, dismissing his exalted blade mid-motion and drawing Skiajati from his sheath in a reverse grip. Then in one smooth motion plunged the blade into the base of Lung's neck, sliding between vertebrae and punching straight through his spine.
The dragon gurgled. Flames sputtered. His half-formed arms flopped uselessly to his sides as his body spasmed and locked.
Even then, he wasn't defeated.
Lung detonated.
A shockwave of fire, pressure, and raw power erupted outward, blasting both Warframes away. Umbra was hurled through a nearby building, crashing through glass and steel in an explosion of debris. Khora smashed into the side of a rooftop, skidding through concrete and rebar before coming to a stop in a cloud of dust.
"Tsk," she clicked in irritation, already pushing herself free from the wall. "Damn fire eximus. They follow wherever I go."
As she finally pushed free, Lung was standing again.
He was bigger now—towering, over twenty feet tall. Wings were tearing free from the useless nubs on his back, wet and half-formed but growing fast. His arms were regrowing faster too, thick cords of muscle knitting together under scorched scales. More intense fire rolled off him in waves, the heat oppressive enough to warp the air.
Khora could see her twin blades were still embedded in his chest. A rookie mistake that Umbra hadn't made because his nikkana was missing from Lungs' neck.
Aiming to claim her swords back, she kicked off the wall hard enough to cave it in, rocketing back toward him.
Seeing Khora coming, Lung leapt to meet her.
The jump was smooth and powerful, not only letting him inadvertently avoid Umbra right as the swordsman lunged low for his legs but it let him lash out midair with a kick. The impact hit Khora like a freight train, sending her crashing through another building, burning floors collapsing as she tore through them and slammed down hard on the ground floor.
Her shields showed it was near red, flickering dangerously low.
That kick had not been particularly fast or graceful. If the Tenno hadn't underestimated Lung's mobility, damage could have been avoided with a simple double jump. But from this mistake, one thing became crystal clear to him.
They needed to take Lung down fast.
The Operators Khora Prime wasn't modified to take the kind of punishment a highly armoured warframe could. It was even purposely stripped of most mods to weaken it to the point the Operator wouldn't have to worry about accidently killing someone.
Even so, the fact Lung could damage her shield so much with just one hit meant letting him grow further wasn't an option if they wanted to take him in alive.
So the Operator made the call to lessen the restraints on potentially lethal attacks. It was time to get messy.
As this was decided, the burning building on top of her began turning molten as Lung began bathing it in sustained flame, intent on burning her out completely.
But a howl tore through the docks, the sound followed—raw, furious, and unmistakably Umbra's.
Another roar followed, this one Lung's, twisted into agony as he was blinded by Umbra's howl and forced to stop his attempt at cremating Khora in favor of clutching his snout of a face.
Khora escaped the rubble to see Umbra a few feet in front of the towering form of the now fully regenerated Lung, exalted blade raised with killing intent. He swung his sword and light flashed from its edge. The slashes flew, carving Lung apart with terrifying rage fueled efficiency—first they hit the feet, severing them at the ankles. Then his legs and abdomen were separated from his torso, guts spilling out as the dragon beat his wings to escape the swordsman's wrath.
It didn't.
Umbra swung again and Lung's arms were chopped off, followed moments later by the wings being clipped. The would-be dragon came crashing to the ground after that, roaring and writhing as he intensified the heat and boiled the street. The only thing that stayed Umbra's hand from delivering the finishing blow—for daring to harm his child—was the order to take the lizard alive.
And Lung, despite being reduced to little more than a torso crowned with a draconic head was still regenerating and growing. Exposed flesh writhed, desperately trying to rebuild itself, to continue fighting, to win no matter what.
The Operator would not allow that.
Khora strutted forward through fire and smoke with mocking grace. Her signature whip snapped into existence, living metal hissing hungrily as it scraped along the scorched ground, promising agony. She had tried to avoid using it—the torture it would soon inflict wouldn't look good in the report to the PRT later—but she lashed it forward anyway.
"Heel beast," she demanded imperiously, as if the world was supposed to bend to her every whim.
The Whipclaw cracked against his mutilated body, flaying him, and from the point of contact, serrated metal erupted outward, wrapping around his body and stabbing deep into his flesh. It ignored the flames erupting of Lung entirely, binding him tight as it anchored itself through muscle and bone.
Lung howled in agony as his regeneration went into overdrive against the living metal. Yet no matter how the flesh bulged, or blood sprayed, or how many scales it tried to layer, the bindings only tightened, causing even more pain.
He tried exploding again but it didn't help. Khora and Umbra were prepared this time and anchored themself to the floor to prevent themselves from being blown away by the intense waves of fire and pressure.
And just like them, Lungs true target stayed hooked into him no matter how many times he tried to melt the chains.
"Are those your death throes mongrel?" She shouted mockingly over the booming roars. "Silence them. My ears grow weary of hearing it."
She cracked the whip again, this time into the air. A Strangledome bloomed into existence—a spherical cage of interconnected living metal rising overhead, crackling with arcing electricity. Barbed tendrils shot out, wrapping tightly around Lung's elongated neck and snout like a sadistic parody of a muzzle while linking to the metal around his torso. The bindings constricted and electrocuted him relentlessly while lifting him off the ground.
But even armless, legless, wingless, and in agony, the dragon-man tried to fight. Yet the more he did, the tighter the bindings wrapped until roars of fire turned into choking gurgles. Then soon, even that stopped entirely.
Still, he didn't revert.
So Khora held him there, unyielding and uncaring of the pain she was inflicting. Umbra stood beside Khora as they waited for the fight in him to give out, his blade of light raised and ready to kill Lung at the slightest notice.
But there was no need.
The Dragon had finally lost.
His neck and inhumanly broad torso shrunk as it went limp in his bindings, his scales receding.
So Khora finally willed her metal to release him. The Whipclaw and most of the chains dissolved into energy, leaving the broken half-man to collapse onto the pavement, restrained now by simple, non-serrated bindings
His gory state was a disgusting sight for all but the most hardened of stomachs. The man looked like a mutilated corpse.
If the Operator had any pity for scum like him then he might have felt bad for putting him through such an agonizing experience.
But he didn't.
Right now, he had bigger concerns. Like finding his twin blades and putting out this fire.
Hiiiisssss.
As if the world was rewarding him for his efforts. A slow drizzle began, quickly building into a heavy downpour. Flames hissed and died under the rain, reducing the inferno around them into a soon to be dying blaze.
The sound of more first responders getting closer to the area was apparent now that the rain was dousing the loud flame.
Well.
At least that was one problem taken care of at least.