Intermission 7.3

Colin Wallis

2002, February 14: Brockton Bay, NH

With Mrs. Simmons' death, it was all but confirmed that she was in fact Doubletime, the Black Panther cape best known for using her power to secure escape routes for her fellows during raids. She wasn't a combatant, but remained valuable to the Panthers, which was probably why she was targeted by Allfather. Without her to increase their mobility, the Panthers became exceedingly more vulnerable.

Her death also had the effect of lighting a powder keg on the criminal underworld of Brockton Bay. The Ryujin seemed content to make war with various Asian gangs in an attempt to secure the northern half of the city. Allfather took that as an invitation to focus on eradicating the Panthers.

Sixteen deaths, four drive-by shootings, nine Molotov cocktails thrown through store windows, and seven nonlethal racially motivated assaults were the result of this focus. Just two days after Mrs. Simmons' death, the city was at war.

"Console to Armsmaster, we've got a robbery on Kale and Fourth Street North," my communicator rang out. There was the slightest echo of static in the background, something that I'd been meaning to fix but didn't get the chance to thanks to the sudden gang war. Quality of life improvements such as these had taken somewhat of a backseat to more pressing adjustments.

"We're on our way, console," I told her. I recognized Office Drye's voice from an ethics and procedures seminar she ran. Good woman, sharp as a whip, though unfortunately retired from the field due to her age.

"Well, shit. Looks like it's going to be a busy night," my partner grumbled, his bike only a few feet behind mine.

"Likely."

When we arrived, it was to find one Hispanic and one black man cornering a third man of some indeterminable ethnicity. I wasn't sure if I should be happy that not all criminals had segregated themselves along racial lines or upset that they were taking advantage of the brewing race war to profit themselves.

"Freeze!" I yelled as I parked my bike and leapt out in a single, smooth motion. I allowed myself a brief smile. The classics were classics for a reason and there was a simple pleasure in yelling stereotypical one-liners and still forcing people to take me seriously.

"Shit, it's Armsmaster! We ain't capes, man," one of the men said.

That brief mess got wrapped up in only seven minutes and four of those were waiting for police. As he said, this was not a parahuman-related crime and so Cannonade and I had minimal jurisdiction. Barring exceptional circumstances, we weren't advised to act beyond restraining suspects and waiting for police to provide statements. In some ways, the Protectorate was an auxiliary force to local police, for better and for worse.

X

Tonight, it ended up being for the worse.

Over the past two days, Mrs. Simmons became a martyr to the racial equality movement, something the Panthers eagerly seized on. They organized a number of demonstrations and marches for justice, many of them peaceful, but some not.

Cars were set on fire. Shops with white owners were broken into and vandalized. That caused shop owners from both sides to climb their rooftops with guns, keeping vigil all night in a sort of improvised neighborhood watch that would have almost been impressive if not for their willingness to take shots at anyone not of their skin color.

It all reminded me worryingly of the LA race riots in 1992. I couldn't remember if those riots came before or shortly after Alexandria claiming Los Angeles as her home city, but I suspected they were why she held such an iron grip on the city. I wasn't a hero then, but I remembered hearing about it on the news and wondering how things could end so poorly.

I now knew. It wasn't any one thing. Mrs. Simmons' death was the spark that lit the powder keg, but it was only the straw that broke the camel's back.

It was impossible at times to distinguish between the grief-stricken and the criminal so Director Cooper's policy was to let them tire themselves out. Leave maintaining public order to the mayor and the police because the Protectorate and PRT had our hands full with the Empire and Ryujin.

I agreed and wished it could be that simple. Already, that distinction in responsibilities was breaking down. There was a violent confrontation between police and protesters yesterday and it was only through good fortune that no one died. Tonight, it seemed as though everything would come to a head. All capes were called back on duty and distributed throughout various potential flashpoints.

Cannonade and I met up with Brandish and Flashbang, the grounded members of New Wave, to respond to a raid led by Asatru, Krieg, and Brunhild on a suspected Panther safehouse. Rebellion of the Panthers responded with seventeen men armed to the teeth with bats, pistols, tire irons, and whatever else they could scrounge up.

"This is console. Armsmaster, Cannonade, you are linked with Brandish and Flashbang. Your focus is on detaining the capes as quickly as possible and breaking up the fight. Priority, Asatru."

"Understood, console."

With the slide of a hidden trigger, I sent a pulse of low-frequency sound that mapped my surroundings. It had nothing close to the range of one of Bluesong's creations, but at two hundred yards, it provided plenty of data for my combat algorithm to work with.

Rebellion was the most violent extremist among the Panthers. He was suspected of being the one to heavily radicalize them from a civic organization to a gang. His crimes ranged from larceny to murder and his rap sheet was long enough that he began to blur the line between rebel and anarchist. For all his posturing however, he was a relatively simple changer-brute who had comically large muscles and could grow ram-like horns and an extra set of arms. Bulletproof, fast, and with enhanced senses, but ultimately predictable.

On the Empire side, I identified the biggest threat as Brunhild, the "valkyrie." The tall, heavily armored woman was a recent recruit by the Empire and thus not high up in their chain of command, but a power-granting trump was always a concern. She had the potential to be a force multiplier as potent as Paladin.

Krieg, the localized shaker and kinetic manipulator, was their direct combatant. He was problematic because his shaker field sapped all kinetic energy, making projectiles ineffective and close combat dangerous. He was also profiled as being particularly ambitious despite being middle-rung on the Empire ladder.

Comparatively, Asatru wasn't much of a threat. He was a fellow tinker with a specialization in drone technology, but insisted on styling himself after the Norse god, Odin. Everything he made was modeled after ravens and wolves and whatever stylistic choices he made for the sake of matching the Empire's motif, he made at the cost of efficiency and capability. He claimed he was all-seeing, a grand general who could control the battlefield.

I was happy to put that to the test.

Asatru was hanging back as he piloted his unkindness of ravens through a series of motion sensors on his hands. It was hilariously impractical, but I supposed it allowed him to play up his shamanic theme. The raven-drones flew about, distracting Panthers, pecking out eyes, and relaying orders.

At his feet were a pair of wolves, Freki and Geri supposedly. The two drones could only loosely be called such as each towered six feet at the shoulder. He almost never sent them out so that they could protect him from all comers.

Krieg charged forward and was wrestling with Rebellion. The two were locked in a grapple but Rebellion used his extra set of arms to hammer down at Krieg. Whether it had enough kinetic force after passing through Krieg's shaker field to do any damage, I could not tell at a distance.

"Follow me, warriors of the Empire! Purge the unworthy and claim for yourselves a seat in Valhalla!" Brunhild screamed out, her winged helmet standing out in the crowd. She waved her glowing banner, a spear with a flag wrapped around it, and charged. As tacky as that sounded, it had the desired effect. Behind her, fourteen Empire grunts charged in her wake.

Her brute rating was normally negligible, but she became stronger the more followers she had. And in turn, she empowered her followers with a lesser version of her brute powers. With no cape to occupy her, she would massacre the Panthers.

In moments, I came up with a plan. From arrival to analysis, it took me six seconds. Good, but still too long. I made a note to find a way to arrive with the scanner and combat algorithm already running.

"Flashbang, occupy Brunhild. Cannonade, separate Rebellion and Krieg. Then focus Krieg, you don't need to take him out, just keep him in place. Brandish to Rebellion," I barked out.

I heard their assent and shot out of our position, launching straight for Asatru. He had several men defending him, all shirtless and decked out in blue paint. Celt or Norse, I wished they'd at least pick a brand and stick to it…

"You cannot stop the higher powers, Armsmaster," their leader rambled on like a B-movie villain. At his feet, the two wolves began to stir. They opened their mouths and I noticed the flash of a gun barrel in their jaws. "We pure ones will cleanse the filth of this world!"

I rolled my eyes and cut aside one of the ravens as it came to peck at me with the sheen of poison on its beak. The problem with a raven theme was not that ravens were poor flyers, far from it. The problem was that they were big and when made of metal, they were depressingly cumbersome. Tinkertech could only excuse so much before physics took hold. I had hoped that they would be a good benchmark to test my combat algorithm against multiple vectors of attack, but Asatru's flock seemed limited to only a handful of weapons.

Still, he was a good target. He was a lieutenant in the Empire and as a tinker with an emphasis on surveillance, likely had plenty of valuable intel. Foolish that they let him out with so little protection; perhaps Allfather thought we heroes would be too busy to target him directly.

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The wolves began to fire just as I marked them as priority concerns on my UI. The combat algorithm took over and I stepped to the side with deceptive ease even as I tased a grunt who had underestimated the range of my halberd.

I all but ignored the ravens, striking them down when they made their harrying runs. When they tried to stay at range, I used my grappling hook to grab them, the algorithm easily calculating the vectors necessary, to toss them into one another.

Their only real surprise was when two of them formed positive and negative charged ions between their claws, firing ionized plasma my way. "Mighty Odin strike you down!" he roared as if he was truly calling down lightning.

Compared to what I saw in DC, swarms of laser drones or Legend's explosions that made the very sky tremble, he was utterly pathetic. I charged the end of my own grappling hook and swung it, gathering the ionized plasma like a lightning rod. With the same deft motion, I stuck the opposite end of my halberd into the ground harmlessly.

The half-naked fools were even less of a problem considering they wielded "traditional" weapons and warpaint. If anything, their presence kept the wolf-drones from attacking me freely.

Asatru clapped his hands then flung them out before pointing a finger towards the sky. "Odin take you!"

"Brandish, strafing run coming your way," I drawled. "Watch the drones."

He froze. "What?"

"You're predictable. You clap to change targets. The distance you spread your arms selects the weapon choice. The angle determines the number of drones you send. That pompous catchphrase is also your activation phrase."

"You…"

I rushed forward, adjusting the setting on my plasma blade to cut through the head of one of his wolves. Then I did as my algorithm suggested and allowed my knees to buckle, falling with the pouncing wolf and mitigating the impact before rolling away. My halberd rose up, extending with the thrust to bury its heated edge into the wolf's chest. I smiled victoriously as something in its internals exploded.

I was left with only a handful of Asatru's personal henchmen. One tried to grab me from behind and my algorithm recommended a strike to the temple to remove him from the fight. I opted to just trip him then step on him as I hopped by to wind him. I made a note that the standard program could use more refinement. There were times when swift, decisive strikes were necessary, but strikes like that could also cause permanent harm which could pose problems down the line.

I toggled through my helmet's UI and diverted some of the energy needed for my plasma blade into the center of my halberd's shaft. There, I'd embedded a small but efficient generator that could be temporarily charged to expel a localized EMP. It only had a radius of four yards, but it was perfect for disabling tinkers up close.

I'd taken the idea from Hyunmu's Blitzshield; he'd used it enough on me as our spars got more competitive. About a month in, hardening everything I made to a minimum satisfactory level was all but mandatory with him.

Asatru did not have the benefit of such training. When faced with an experienced close combat specialist, he folded like a house of cards. My EMP sparked and every one of his drones fell to the ground, leaving my allies to focus on their tasks. I'd be sure to come collect the drones for personal study. They didn't seem all that impressive, but perhaps there was some aspect of his specialization Asatru overlooked in favor of sticking on-brand that I could learn from.

"You'll pay, race traitor," he swore. "You think you can hold Asatru?"

I rolled my eyes. Talking in the third person? He practically filled out the cartoon villain bingo card all on his lonesome. I wondered how this fool became a lieutenant. More than likely, he was elevated because he was no threat to Allfather's rule. Reaching down, I plucked a knife and some sort of black orb that my scanner told me was tinkertech. After closing off all potential escape vectors, I read him the abbreviated version of his rights.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you."

"I know my rights," he smiled up at me viciously. "I'll be out within the week. You think any of this matters? Allfather will skewer you for this."

"Just procedure, you understand," I drawled. Then, more to get him to stop talking than because he was a flight risk, I injected him with a tranquilizer that knocked him out cold.

With my side of this battle dealt with, I turned my attention back to my colleagues. Flashbang was a man I'd come to respect in my three weeks in the city. He was measured and careful in everything he did, a direct contrast to his wife's more straightforward demeanor.

I wondered if it had to do with his powers. His power was intensely lethal, the creation of hardlight grenades with varying explosive yields. According to him, he taught himself to remove the thermal component and diminish the kinetic component of his power, creating a largely nonlethal, concussive variant that could be used on even civilians with minimal concerns. Even so, he always had to gauge just where his bombs went to avoid permanent injuries. That he was immune to his own explosions made things harder in some ways because he couldn't always rely on his own senses to judge the intensity of his attacks.

He had started by peppering Brunhild and her cohorts with bombs that were barely more than a hard shove, but quickly scaled up to bombs that exploded with enough force to toss my motorbike like a ragdoll. That was enough to incapacitate most of the lesser brutes and convince the rest that the fight wasn't worthwhile. Brunhild however was good enough to leverage her strength into better mobility and her armor protected her from the kinetic impact of Flashbang's grenades.

Across the street, Cannonade and Krieg traded ranged attacks. Cannonade had the decisive edge and was able to easily pin the shaker, but he was forced to run occasionally when Krieg tried to give chase or threw a rock his way enhanced by his own shaker field.

Brandish at least had Rebellion handled like an unruly child. She was by all accounts an exceptionally focused woman and it showed clearly in her combat style. She fought like nothing else existed but her and her opponent. With a hardlight longsword in one hand and kite shield in the other, I thought she could easily fit the "Paladin" moniker as well as my leader.

Rebellion clasped two hands above his head and brought them down in a hammer blow that would have caved in reinforced steel. Brandish dodged with impressive efficiency and parried another blow with her shield tilted just so before scoring a vicious cut on the brute's forearm. He howled in pain.

"You bitch! I'm going to kill you for that!"

"Unlikely," she snorted, her composure never breaking.

I saw that she had Rebellion well in hand and moved to support Flashbang. "ETA on unpowered support?" I barked into my mic.

"One minute, Armsmaster."

"Asatru is down and has been dosed. Prioritize securing him."

"Understood."

Brunhild ducked behind a car and picked up one of her own men before throwing him at Flashbang. The throw fell short, but it was enough to make Flashbang hesitate for fear of hitting the lad. That gave her the precious second needed to close the gap.

I dove forward, my servos groaning and grinding as I pushed my armor to its limit. My halberd interposed itself between Brunhild's spear and Flashbang in a rain of sparks and I made a note to thank Metalmaru for the chemical composition of that experimental steel alloy he sent me. It was roughly equivalent to tungsten carbide in durability but thirty-one percent lighter, which made me proportionately faster.

"Surrender, Brunhild. You're young. You don't need to go down this road," Flashbang warned earnestly. She likely reminded him of Fleur, the youngest member of New Wave and a capable heroine in her own right.

"Fuck you, race traitor! You think those fuckers hiding behind you are innocent? Who the fuck do you think killed my parents?" she shrieked. There was real pain there, the anguish of loss I'd become all too able to recognize.

She lashed out with strength born of desperation, but she was weakening. With her followers downed, the feedback loop of her trump power was drying up.

I parried a wild swing with my halberd before lashing out with a front snap kick that bowled her over. "Enough. Your personal tragedy does not give you grounds to seek violent revenge on an entire race of people."

"Fuck you! You don't know shit! You're not even from this city!"

I grit my teeth at that. She wasn't wrong. My childhood was less than ideal, but I never had to struggle with the death of a parent. No matter my parents' shortcomings, I never once doubted they'd be there for me, that they loved me in their own, aloof way."You could have done some real good in the Protectorate. You still can. I will make recommendations for therapy and a transfer."

"No!" She rose and lunged for me, spear pointed at my throat. I grabbed it and held it still as a weak concussive grenade from Flashbang sent her rolling away. "You think I'm going to work with that fucking nigger? I'd rather die!"

She could be talking about the director or Paladin. It didn't matter; I doubted we'd get through to her. I could already guess what most likely happened. A tragic casualty of a firefight, one of Rebellion's random rampages, or perhaps a mugging unrelated to the gangs. A trigger that was discovered by the Empire, only for them to seize on the opportunity to twist her vulnerable worldview. They gave her a home, adopting her into their warped community and offering her a circle of friends who validated their beliefs.

Or maybe her father was as racist as she was.

It didn't matter. I had a job to do. She'd see her day in court.

Without her spear and followers, she was barely more than a teenage girl throwing a tantrum. I grabbed her and cuffed her with Petricite shackles before handing her off to Flashbang so he could lead her to the now-arrived PRT transport.

He took her wordlessly and began to frog-march her away as I turned to support Cannonade against Krieg.

My intervention proved unnecessary.

Cannonade had caught on to the nuances of Krieg's power. He dodged out of the way of a thrown brick and dashed for his bicycle. He unclasped the miniaturized fire extinguisher I'd given him and used his power on the foam that came out, creating a sizable distraction and breaking line of sight.

I saw what he did next through my new sonar system. He picked out the bike chain and lock he used when we had walking patrols and whirled it over his head before launching it at Krieg like a bola. The chain, each link as thick as two fingers, now grew to the size of my thigh while retaining momentum.

Krieg's shaker field augmented or dampened inertia as far as we could tell. It did little to nothing to hamper mass. And with a chain, one link would enter the field first, slow, and transfer some of that force to the other links, making the field overall less effective. Even if the chain was moving at walking pace, it was still a set of metal links as thick as my leg. Weight alone would impart considerable force.

"Gah!" I heard the Empire cape yelp in pain as he was caught off guard. The link struck his shoulder, whirled around him, and dragged him to the ground with the snap of broken bone, pinning him under the increased mass.

Cannonade was no tinker, but he had a certain roguish cunning befitting his captain's motif. I approved.

"Is that everyone?" Brandish asked as she tossed an unconscious Rebellion at my feet. With his loss, the gang members following him scattered into the wind. I frowned. It would have been good to capture more of them, but I suspected the police would bother with only a few token arrests given the circumstances.

"It is," I said. "Thank you for your help, Flashbang, Brandish."

"This is our city, too."

Flashbang placed an arm around his wife. "She's right. We have a lot of work to do."

I nodded curtly. "Cannonade and I will escort the prisoners to the PRT cells."

"You do that, Armsmaster. I think we'll patrol the neighborhood for a while longer, make sure Mike and Jess don't need our help."

"Lightstar and Fleur," his wife corrected.

"Right, sorry. In the field."

"But it is as he said. We'll be seeing you. And welcome to Brockton Bay."

Author's Note

I wasn't born during the LA riots, but my uncle lived (still lives) in LA at the time. He'd tell me the craziest stories of neighbors standing on the roof of their laundromat business with shotguns all night. For a few months, it was honestly worse than Wildbow's depiction of Brockton Bay. In Brockton, there's a clear bad guy, a literal villainous group of Nazis. During the riots, it was everyone for themselves. Koreans, Mexicans, blacks, with the police being just another gang.

Asatru is the name of a modern religion that seeks to bring back pre-Christian Norse beliefs. The faith itself is not in itself racist, but white supremacists sometimes identify with it because it is a "warrior religion" and places a cultural emphasis on tribes, folklore, and (white) culture.

No, Brunhild was not my attempt at writing a "sympathetic Nazi." She's a bitch. Deluded bitch, but a bitch. I like to give OCs I make some personality and that's just what came out. Asatru is a chuuni who's halfway convinced himself that he's really Odin's messenger. Brunhild is a very angry teenage girl with a hell of a misspent youth.

Armsmaster is really strong when he's not being pit against Lung, the S9, or similar. In canon, he was consistently among the most prominent heroes in the country (Triumvirate, Rime, Myrddin, Chevalier, Exalt, Cinereal, Armsmaster, and someone else I can't remember).

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.