In Which Rebecca Costa-Brown Develops a Headache
***
"She's insane," said Rebecca Costa-Brown, chief director of the Parahuman Response Team. She had just finished reading the last report from Brockton Bay on the actions of Queen Administrator during and after the Slaughterhouse Nine attack on the same city.
Across from the imposing woman sat a board-room's worth of bureaucrats, directors, and a few representatives from the Protectorate, including Legend who had just passed a very shortened version of the Master Stranger protocols. Eidolon, the only other member of the Triumvirate present, was sitting across from him and between two screens with the images of Directors Piggot and Hearthrow. Armstrong was at the far end of the boardroom table, next to a pair of deputy directors.
It wasn't normal for this much attention to be placed on a single cape, but if there was ever someone that fit the definition of Class-S threat, it was Queen Administrator.
"Now now, Rebecca, she's not... insane. She just has a very unorthodox way of thinking," Legend said. He looked at the others in the room with a charming, if hopeful smile, and only won a bunch of blank looks for his effort. "Look, she's powerful, but so far, other than in self-defence, there have been very few incidents with her."
Rebecca had one eyebrow climbing up into her hairline at that, but she let one of the other directors answer in her stead. "You're kidding, right?" Armstrong said. He lifted a tablet and waved it at the Protectorate leader as if to prove a point. It kind of did when the tablet was opened to a list of incidents perpetrated by Queen Administrator. "She's a walking disaster."
"Yes, she's disruptive, but it could be so, so much worse," Legend said. "With the amount of firepower she's toting around she could be demanding just about anything, instead she's having tea parties and spends time cleaning the city or chatting online. She's very reasonable in person. Before we do anything rash, it would be far safer to just ask her to try and live with us."
"Fine, we'll take what you said under advisement," Costa-Brown said. "Now, our first matter of business, and these are in order of most dangerous to least. The Simurgh. She appeared, helped Queen Administrator, then started following her around the next day. Opinions?"
There was a long beat of silence around the table. Finally, SOMEONE bit the bullet. "What can we do? It's the Simurgh. We can't exactly wall off Brockton Bay without Queen Administrator noticing, and as reasonable as Legend claims she is, I doubt she'll agree to live in a ghost city."
"We could fight her. She'll be weighted down by having to protect the girl," Eidolon said from the far end of the table. It was the first thing the caped Triumvirate parahuman had said after greeting everyone.
Hearthrow snorted. "There are words for people who would attack two Endbringers at the same time. Those words aren't for polite company."
"Or, she could ask one Endbringer to keep her safe while the other one fights without holding back, as they've clearly been doing for the past twenty-odd years," Piggot shot back. In the woman's mind was an image of the crater that her city would become if a fight of that magnitude took place in it. And to think that a few weeks ago she was merely worried about nazis.
One of the deputy directors coughed. "We could always ask the Simurgh what to do," he said as he lifted a phone up. Just about everyone recognized PHO's layout. "She's doing an AMA."
Rebecca pressed her face into her hands. "Is there any way we could contain it?"
"It's on the world boards. She's started answering questions in other languages and from just about everywhere. Most of her answers seem to be pretty... uh," he flushed. "Pretty troll-y."
"We'll watch," Rebecca decided. "And we'll find a way to get her on our side. She was brought in for questioning, correct?" she asked. "Very well, who's the one interrogating her?"
"Director Tagg," someone answered.
Rebecca wanted to wince. Tagg was a very good director. He wasn't a terribly charismatic man, though, and could come off as aggressive at the best of times. She leaned back into her chair and clenched a fist under the table. Things were quickly spiraling out of control. Or at least, she noticed, out of their control. The Hebert girl had yet to really do anything horrible. In fact, as Legend had said, she was fairly non-threatening given her powers. The problem was she didn't answer to the Protectorate, Wards, or any other organization. Even if she joined a gang it would have been better than this... nothing.
Queen Administrator, as a cape, didn't fit into any of the neat little boxes. She was an outsider, someone outside the range of anyone's control. And if she had some silly, simple power, like being a super-mime or being a lizard-Changer, then they would let her do her own thing.
The problem wasn't that Queen Administrator was ridiculously strong, it was that she was strong and yet didn't have any of the organizational restraints that the PRT and government were built to pull on.
"Send a message to Tagg to wear his kid gloves for this one. We don't need to antagonize her. As for the Simurgh, I want a constant watch on her. Ask Dragon if she'd be willing to help, but get some of our Tinkers to see if they can track her and Queen Administrator too." Rebecca waited until all the right people had noted what she said, then moved on. "Our next point, the... Friendship Cannon."
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
"You mean the giant rainbow beam that came out of nowhere this afternoon?" Armstrong said. "We could see it from Boston."
A few eyes turned towards Piggot and the woman nodded. "The... cannon was used against a ramped up Lung, the leader of the Azn Bad Boys. We captured him a week ago. Mannequin of the Slaughterhouse Nine did something to him over the course of an hour. Judging by the report from CSI, Mannequin operated on both Lung and Fenja from the Empire Eighty Eight. The latter died during the operation. Armsmaster suggested that somehow Bonesaw and Mannequin developed a way to transfer powers from one cape to another, or to combine them."
Piggot coughed. "Lung's usual ability to ramp up combined with Fenja's ability to grow exponentially larger and stronger turned him into what would easily be an S-Class threat in the middle of downtown Brockton Bay. I know Legend tried to subdue him to little success."
Legend nodded. "His regeneration was rather incredible, and he seemed to grow harder and harder to hurt as the battle progressed. When Leviathan doused the fires he had set, I had a few moments to ask Queen Administrator for help." He waved at Piggot to continue.
"Yes, and she, in turn, asked the Simurgh to... fire the Friendship Cannon. That's when the beam came down after a short delay. It left a hole. It's two thousand meters deep, twenty wide at the widest point, and shaped exactly like a heart."
"A heart?" Eidolon said. "Like, an anatomically correct one?"
Piggot shook her head, then made a heart symbol with both hands. "No, a girly heart symbol."
"Lung was hit?" Director Hearthrow from Chicago asked.
"He was. A direct hit, if Armsmaster's report is to be believed. Leviathan caught him before he fell into the hole." Piggot closed her eyes to prepare herself before delivering the next lines. "He's since recovered and is in our custody. He's... changed."
"Changed how?" Rebecca asked.
"He exhibits friendly behaviour. Is more open, and won't stop smiling. He tried to hug some of my Troopers, saying that hugs... look, I have footage."
The Director focused on her computer and soon everyone in the room received a ping on their tablets. A dozen videos started playing at the same time.
The video opened to the inside of a PRT holding cell, white walls with a cot in one corner and a toilette in the other. A tall man covered in asian dragon tattoos stood in the middle of the room, face barely concealed by a domino mask.
A voice filled the room, calm and placid, the voice of a typical interrogator. "For the record, you are the Parahuman known as Lung."
"Oh yes, that's what all my friends call me!" Lung said. He was smiling, showing off twin rows of perfect teeth.
"Very well, thank you. My name is Richard, I will be interrogating you. Now, Lung, could you tell us what happened this afternoon between the hours of 1000 and 1200?"
"Oh boy, can I ever!" Lung nodded, his smiling never changing. "I was in this wonderful little cell, just like this one, in fact. And I was eating my lunch. Did you know that veggies are part of a balanced diet, Richard?"
"I... yes."
"That's great! You'll grow into a big strong boy if you eat your veggies."
"I -- thank you, Lung. Could you continue to recount the events that transpired after you ate your lunch."
Lung grinned. "Yuppers. No problem, Richie my buddy. Now, here I was, eating my yummy yummy balanced lunchy, when this mean, mean man came in. He did some mean mean things to me, and he interrupted my lunch! Do you know, that's a terrible thing, Richie.
"Could you describe the man?"
"Oh, he looked like a bunch of bits and bobs, all stuck together by noodles. I used to eat a lot of noodles. Oodles and oodles of noodles, but I know better now. My, I remember a time where if I didn't eat my noodles, I'd go boo-hoo-hoodles! Oh, but that mean mean man wasn't so bad! If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have met the great and stupendous Queenie Administratie again!"
Piggot paused the video. "It's like that for hours. He keeps trying to hug PRT personnel. And he sings childish rhymes in Japanese. And he... he dances and tries to convince others to sing along with him. But at least he's cooperative."
Armstrong was the first to speak. "That's even more terrifying than if she'd just killed him outright. Has he been checked out by our Thinkers? Has Panacea looked at him yet?"
"Not yet, it's only been a few hours. And no, she's taking care of those hurt during the incident."
Eidolon raised an arm like a student in a classroom. "Any idea of where the beam originated?"
Piggot sighed. "Space. I asked Dragon and she traced it back to somewhere past the moon. The beam... curved around the moon, then crossed four hundred thousand kilometers or so to hit Lung. We don't have a visual on the cannon yet. We might never get one unless it moves out of the moon's shadow or we send out a probe of some sort."
The room went silent again.
Rebecca really wished she was alone in the room so that she could rub her temples in peace.
***