… Elias Mercer
The Undersiders were gone.
Taylor was sitting beside me on the ground, her legs pulled in. She breathed like pulling air out of the world itself was an act of resistance.
Her swarm had disappeared, pulled back to wherever the hell she'd ordered them to go.
I was standing now, held up by pure stubbornness, since the adrenaline had left my body a while ago.
The scene around us looked like a painting made by someone obsessed with urban warfare. Dried blood like varnish, twisted metal shaped into almost artistic forms, and soot covering everything like a filter of misery.
Brockton Bay would probably call that cultural heritage for future generations.
That's when the metallic hum arrived and Armsmaster showed up.
He came in on a blue-and-black motorcycle, heavily modified. It looked exactly like the kind of thing an eight-year-old would draw… and a billion dollars of government funding would bring to life.
He stopped with unsettling precision, and the man dismounted, his movements like military code hardwired into his DNA.
…Considering how many PHO theories I'd read about Armsmaster being a robot, I was starting to think they might be onto something.
He wore polished blue armor that reflected the broken light of the alley. The helmet had sharp, angular lines, and the halberd rested on his shoulder like a promise of pain.
Armsmaster stopped and looked directly at Taylor first, then at me. And in that look… I felt the weight of being evaluated.
Not person to person, but like someone scanning machinery.
"Good. You weren't stupid enough to run," he said, his voice more human than I expected.
Taylor tried to stand, but her body refused. Her knees buckled, and she sank back down.
I stayed still, purely for energy conservation purposes.
"Lung is alive?" he asked, straight to the point.
"Unfortunately," I muttered. "He's a tough bastard."
Armsmaster stepped closer to Lung's unconscious body, which was breathing unevenly, still surrounded by a few lingering flies.
The smell coming off him was awful. A mix of burned flesh, condensed testosterone sweat, and crushed ego.
Armsmaster crouched, and I saw his visor flicker. Some kind of internal scanner running its checklist.
"External scales collapsed. Respiratory system compromised. Possible lung failure. Indicators of multiple trauma. Internal toxins… insects?"
He turned his gaze back to Taylor.
She took a second to answer, just long enough to show hesitation… or maybe embarrassment, I guess.
"I… I used everything I had."
Armsmaster didn't praise or thank her, just kept inputting commands on the panel on his wrist, probably initiating some containment protocol.
The lack of recognition for what we did didn't surprise me.
"Identify yourselves," he said.
Taylor bit her lip, her hesitation almost physical. A much stronger reaction than when Tattletale had asked the similar thing.
"We haven't picked names yet," I answered for both of us.
Armsmaster looked at me, but it felt more like data processing than actual attention.
'Is he a man or a machine?' I wondered, finally understanding where the PHO theories about him came from.
Perhaps he was a bit of both, perhaps nothing of either.
"You are not registered," he stated, not accusing, just… really stating. "And you engaged Lung in a public area with civilian risk… you also triggered a direct conflict with the ABB."
"Things don't always go according to plan…" I shot back. "You get that, Armsmaster?"
Even with his analytical tone, I felt my chest twist with disgust at being judged by him.
Taylor practically sank even further into the ground. You could feel her discomfort vibrating in the air, like she wanted to disappear before I opened my mouth again.
Armsmaster took a step forward, the weight of his armor turning into authority made flesh.
"And you understand that, by law, unregistered capes involved in combat against known criminals, especially alongside villains, are committing a criminal offense?"
…So he knew about the Undersiders being there. Looks like even from a distance, he saw more than I expected.
Even if he didn't seem to have heard the conversation…
"Is that how it works?" I shot back.
Armsmaster continued like I hadn't even spoken. "And you understand that acting as a vigilante also constitutes a violation of the National Protection Agreement?"
"That's a thing?" I replied again.
I'm a teenager… of course I don't know my own rights!
He moved like he was about to step closer, but stopped, seeming to study my face and my tone. The tension between us tightened and for a second, I thought he might actually raise that halberd.
"The Protectorate will claim this capture, and Lung will be taken into custody."
"Of course they will."
"You two…" he paused, his helmet fixed on us. He looked at me, then at Taylor.
"Considering your possible age… I am obligated to inform you that there is a legal alternative."
For some reason, his intonation changed. It became softer, but it clearly sounded rehearsed.
"The Wards program is a national initiative that provides a path for young capes like yourselves. Structure, support, training… protection. You do not need to operate alone."
I didn't answer right away. I glanced at Taylor, who looked completely frozen.
'Does she have an issue…?' I wondered, trying to guess what was going on with her.
The obvious options were that she had a problem with authority figures… or a problem with dealing with other teenagers.
Considering her track record… yeah, I had my answer.
"We refuse," I said, looking back at Armsmaster.
My answer was simple. No room for doubt, no room for negotiation.
"I'm not interested in wearing a leash with an institutional design, and definitely not in filing weekly reports about my 'rehabilitation potential'."
PHO was full of probably fake info about how Wards spent most of their time when they weren't patrolling… which was almost always.
I also realized I might've said a bit too much... but it just slipped out. The idea of joining them simply made my skin crawl.
Armsmaster kept his gaze locked on me for way too long, and the delay in his response made me almost certain he was running some kind of internal program to generate an answer.
"You understand that the Wards are a way to ensure your legal safety? To avoid—"
"Don't strain yourself, robo-man," I cut him off. "If you can use laws to put a leash on two teenagers who just took down Lung and don't have any record of villainy… there's no way in hell I'm siding with you."
Taylor, still not looking at either of us, murmured quietly, "We need time… that's all."
Armsmaster nodded, but it was the kind of nod that already logged the answer as unacceptable.
To the PRT, the city never needed heroes. It needed numbers accounted for, names filed away, and pieces lined up for their fake peace theater.
'And they still call their contracted capes heroes… fucking bastards.'
…Yeah, sometimes it probably sounded like I was exaggerating and I'll admit, sometimes I probably was…
But listening to Armsmaster made me think I might still be underestimating just how deep their hypocrisy ran.
"Who will take credit for Lung?" he asked, circling back to that question.
I turned to him. My surprise was real, but it didn't last long. I almost snapped back with a few choice insults, but then he raised a hand.
"Hear me out first," he said. "What you did today was remarkable. You played a significant role in placing a major villain into custody. Now, you need to consider the consequences of that action."
"Consequences…?" Taylor repeated, like she was tasting the word for the first time.
I didn't even have the energy to argue.
Armsmaster kept going, not giving a damn how we felt. "Lung commands a large gang throughout Brockton Bay and neighboring cities. More than that, he has two powerful subordinates. Oni Lee and Bakuda."
Taylor shifted, catching her breath. "I know about Oni Lee, but I've never heard of Bakuda…"
'Actually… that's new to me too…' I thought, pushing my annoyance aside and focusing on getting whatever useful intel I could from robo-man.
Armsmaster continued, "That's not surprising. She's a recent addition. What we know about her is limited, but she made her first appearance and demonstrated her capabilities through a terrorist campaign against Cornell University."
A bell rang in my head, like I'd heard that name somewhere before. Still, I kept listening to robo-man.
"Lung apparently recruited her and brought her to Brockton Bay after her plans were disrupted by the New York Protectorate. We consider this a significant concern."
The way he delivered all this didn't feel like he was trying to scare us… seriously…
"What are her powers?" Taylor asked, and I mentally gave her points for that.
It was still weird how fast she switched gears, but at least she could focus when it mattered.
Armsmaster turned slightly. "Are you familiar with the Tinker classification?"
Taylor looked like she was thinking, so I answered for her. "Sci-fi engineering powers. Like you, right?"
He ignored me, of course.
"Most Tinkers have specialties," he explained. "Areas where their creations exceed normal expectations. Bakuda's specialty is bombs."
"…Oh."
A woman whose power lets her make bombs decades ahead of modern tech.
Yeah… no wonder robo-man saw that as a problem. In his place, I would too.
As if his visor could read our reactions perfectly, Armsmaster kept going.
"Now I want you to consider the danger involved in taking credit for Lung's capture. Based on their behavioral patterns, Oni Lee and Bakuda will be focused on two objectives."
…I could practically hear what they were without him even saying it.
"Freeing their leader and taking revenge on whoever is responsible. I assume you now understand… these are dangerous individuals. In some respects, more dangerous than their leader."
I saw some insects clinging to Taylor's costume twitch.
"That means… we shouldn't take credit…" she said, her voice tight.
Robo-man nodded. "You have only two options."
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing, already knowing exactly what he was about to say again.
"The first is that you register with the Wards."
Just as expected. Government employees were really good at following a script.
"Because nothing screams 'freedom of choice' like 'sign up or die on your own,'" I added helpfully… purely to clarify the situation and not because I wanted to piss him off.
He ignored me again, focusing on Taylor like she was the one he might still convert to corporate faith.
"The second option is to keep your heads down. No one knows what you did, and no one needs to know. The Protectorate can claim the capture, and you can disappear for a while and stay off the radar."
It sounded logical… except for the part where the Undersiders already knew about us… and dozens of ABB goons had already been attacked by Taylor's swarm earlier.
That information was going to reach the ABB. I had zero doubt about that.
I saw Taylor getting thoughtful again, so I gave a theatrical bow... or as close as my wrecked spine would allow.
"Ladies and gentlemen… welcome to the part where even the so-called heroes want to screw you over."
Taylor shot me a sharp masked face, full of questions.
"Think about it," I said, looking at her. "Strip away the polished language and fake concern, and you'll see exactly what he's really saying."
The Protectorate? Hah! It was Armsmaster who wanted to take credit for something he didn't do!
It might sound like help... but that's the problem! Brockton Bay is a city that only respects strength!
The Dragon stayed free because he was strong! Neo-Nazis walked the streets and preached their garbage ideology because they were strong!
By stealing our win… Armsmaster was making sure our strength never got recognized! And he still acted like that would stop Oni Lee or Bakuda from figuring out the truth! They'd come either way!
Whether it's publicly acknowledged or not that we took down Lung!
'…Of course, we're not strong enough to beat Lung.'
I definitely couldn't have done it alone… and maybe Taylor wouldn't have lasted long enough for the venom to kick in.
And in the end, it was Bitch's demon dogs that landed the final blow!
But the logic still stands.
Even if it's just out of spite, I'm not letting robo-man profit off what we did! Not a chance!
...
After the long discussion that ended up going nowhere for robo-man, the sound of his bike had already faded a couple of blocks away.
Taylor and I walked in silence, step by step through the alleys. She stayed a little behind, like she wanted the world to forget she even existed.
But her silence was worse... it felt packed with questions she didn't have the courage to say out loud.
"The words might've been real, but the intent was a lie," I said.
Taylor turned her head, listening closely.
"Robo-man, I mean," I continued. "He said it was for our own protection, but it wasn't. He was trying to take advantage of us being in a bad position."
She didn't answer right away, her eyes behind the mask fixed on the ground.
"He… sounded like he believed what he was saying," she said.
"That's exactly what he's supposed to do," I let out a short laugh and looked at her.
Somehow, I didn't see the creepy costume... I saw the hunched figure in the school hallway.
"You know, swarm girl…" I said, searching for the right words. "Brockton Bay is hell. You know that, right?"
Taylor glanced at me from the side and gave a small nod.
"So think about it," I went on. "If this city is hell, then what's the rest of the world like? And what about the written and unwritten rules that allow this hell to exist? How can we trust them? The people who are supposed to be protected by those rules keep suffering every single day."
I felt that hollow ache pulse in my chest as the thoughts came creeping in.
"The rules… they are only successful in proportion to the amount of people as believe in them…" I explained, seeing Taylor's full attention locked on me. "If you know they don't work, what do you do? Do you keep following them, or do you choose the path your own morals and feelings push you toward? Because the guilt is still gonna hit you… even if you're just 'following the rules', you know?"
…As conscious people, how are we supposed to listen to a moral code created by a minority to control everyone else instead of listening to ourselves?
Is it really okay to be a hypocritical asshole just because the rules say it's allowed? Yeah, no—fuck that!
"The way this works is obvious!" I said, more venting than actually explaining my point. "We're not the ones who are wrong! It's the world!"
"…The heroes… this world…" Taylor took a deep breath, forcing the words out. "Is it really like that? That sounds… really bleak."
"Oh, yeah. It's exactly like that," I answered.
It sucked… but you learn to accept it over time.
"If that's true… what am I supposed to do now?" she asked, sounding completely lost behind the costume.
I could've answered in a bunch of ways, some dumber and more poetic than the last, but I kept it as simple as possible.
"Survive long enough to figure out your own rules to follow…" I said, not looking at her, "but for that, there are a few things you need to understand."
She lifted her head, a little surprised by how direct I sounded.
"Having a power doesn't make you invincible, but it does make you a target. And the more noise you make, the more dangerous people start noticing you… at least on that, robo-man wasn't lying."
She swallowed, but didn't stop paying attention.
"And also… don't trust anyone until you've seen what they do when no one's watching," I went on. "Doesn't matter if they're a Cape or not. Whether they wear a shiny badge on their chest or a skull mask. Everyone lies, even our 'heroes'."
Taylor seemed to flinch. I kept thinking she should be more cynical, but she still looked like someone who needed to believe in people.
I mean… the way she almost bought Tattletales pitch was just ridiculous!
"And one more thing…" I said, looking up at the cloudy sky between the buildings. "I think we need to pick a Cape names."
"Cape name?" she asked, almost laughing. "Is that really important?"
"It really is," I looked back at her. "It represents what you want to be… or at least what you want people to think you are."
I shrugged and added, "You should try. Even if to choose something dumb, like… 'Bug Girl'."
I couldn't see it, but I felt like she rolled her eyes behind the mask. "That was awful, Clap Boy."
"I told you it was dumb."
Somewhere between our laughs, the city felt a little less like it was drowning in its own shit.
"Last thing," I added, shifting back to a serious tone. "Always— always have an escape plan. You're gonna screw up eventually… and when you do, you better have somewhere to run."
With a Mover-type power, that part was basically covered for me… but for her, it was different.
Taylor listened in silence as we walked through the alleys.
The sounds of the city slowly crept back in, and then, between one step and the next, she broke the silence.
"Have you picked one?"
I turned my head just enough to look at her out of the corner of my eye. "What?"
"A Cape name."
The question was simple with no hidden meaning behind it.
I paused to answer... but was I already had one. Ever since I realized I could keep getting stronger as long as I kept earning achievements.
The name came on its own. No needing for brainstorming or marketing team bullshit.
"Hoarder," I said.
Taylor looked confused, but didn't ask what it meant.
Because a name is the essence of a Cape and as a Cape, I'm a hoarder of wounds, scars, and bad decisions… but also feats, victories, achievements, and powers.
A name that didn't signify what I wanted to be, but what I was already becoming.