A Better Master: Chapter 2

Quick Author's Note: Didn't mean for this to be the next one I sent out, but for some reason my mind refused to leave it be. Let me know what you guys think! It still needs some polishing, but I think it turned out rather well. 

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Armsmaster POV

Armsmaster wasn’t one to scare easily. 

Trained by Hero of the Triumvirate, Armsmaster was well aware he’d rank amongst the top ten Tinkers worldwide. He was a veteran in a job that saw an unfortunately high mortality rate, and his current city had Nazis on one side and a dragon that could push back an Endbringer on the other. 

So it said something when he felt panic at the news The Siberian had made an appearance in Brockton Bay. 

He’d rushed over to the hospital, arriving on the tail end of a very panicked evacuation. Still, each patient and doctor had eventually been accounted for, and he had ordered all of them to undergo a quick medical check while the hospital itself had been cordoned off. 

All Protectorate Heros had been either sent to the Hospital or on standby in case the remaining Slaughterhouse members made an appearance. The Wards were assembled, but remained on Console duty (which is where they would stay. He wasn’t always the best with people, but he wasn’t so foolish as to have children fight members of the Slaughterhouse.)   

Additionally, several vans of troopers, SWAT, and police were positioned just outside the barricade. The entire city had been placed under high alert, warnings had gone out to other cities and even the Triumvirate. Even the gangs had ceased all activity and had hunkered down. 

A member of the Slaughterhouse 9 had come to Brockton Bay. The word ‘overreaction’ did not exist right now.

All of which begged the ultimate question… 

Why was nothing happening?

Armsmaster did another scan of the building, glaring at the results. 

Only two presences detected in the building. Air quality at expected levels. No power fluctuations. No traps. Most importantly, no sign of the rest of the Slaughterhouse 9. 

Where were they? 

Jack Slash’s methods, bloody though they may be, weren’t complicated. There would be some manner of prep-work involved, but all of the members would keep things quiet until Jack made an appearance. His goal was to maximize the amount of panic, and he coordinated everything to facilitate that.

This entire situation was going against every pattern the Slaughterhouse 9 had followed since Jack Slash took the reigns. And Armsmaster didn’t like it at all. 

“Hey, Armsy!” 

Armsmaster turned around. “Assault.” He greeted the other hero briskly. 

“Geeze, all I asked for was a single night off and the entire city blows up.” Assault complained with a smile. “Battery’s gone off to oversee the Wards. So what exactly happened here? I’ve heard a very unsatisfying summary before being told to get my finely toned butt over here.” 

Armsmaster would have scolded the other hero for his levity if he hadn’t seen the obvious tension (or, his suit saw it. Same thing) that his colleague was taking this seriously. This was probably just his way of ‘lightening the mood’.

“Earlier this evening, The Siberian of the Slaughterhouse 9 was spotted charging through the city with a girl in her arms.” Armsmaster replied briskly, walking even with Assault towards the barricade. “She caused a trail of destruction to the hospital, one where Panacea was currently working, demanding the girl she was carrying be healed. After doing so, the Siberian allowed Panacea and the rest of the hospital to leave. She’s been in there with the girl since.”

Assault frowned. “No deaths? Hostages?”

“None.”

Which was good… But at the same time, beyond frustrating. She’d been in a prime position to commit a slaughter. The death of Panacea alone would have been devastating. Instead, she allowed the entire hospital to be evacuated. 

Assault frowned, “So who’s the girl that got healed?” 

“Taylor Hebert, age 15.” Armsmaster brought up the report on his visor. “Lives with her Father, who works with the Dock Workers Association. Her Mother died in a car crash several years ago. No known relation to The Siberian, and only the flimsiest of connections.”

Assault raised an eyebrow, “But there was a connection?” 

“Of a sort.” Armsmaster grunted in annoyance. “We asked Watchog what her connection was, and they responded with ‘yes’.” 

“Ah, the ever ambiguous ‘yes’.” Assault nodded sagely before becoming serious once more. “Well, what did Miss Hebert need healing for?” The two of them stopped right at the barricade and looked at the building. 

Nobody would have suspected that one of the world’s most dangerous Parahumans was in there. A cannibal cape that made even the Triumvirate wary. 

“Concussion, partially delirious, various cuts and scrapes across her body.” Armsmaster recited from the report he brought up in his helmet. “She was absolutely filthy when she was brought in, with some nasty infections settling in.” He frowned. “Panacea also reported that the girl had an active Corenta Pallentia.”

A Parahuman.

The Unwritten Rules would normally frown on him revealing this, but many rules were thrown out when dealing with villains like the Slaughterhouse 9 whom ignored those rules in the first place.

Assault’s eyes narrowed at the list, only to widen at the last part. “Think it might be Rune? She’s the only girl that’s the right age” He mused. “Maybe somebody new?” 

“The Siberian didn't bother hiding where she came from.” Armsmaster replied instead. “Winslow High. The trail of destruction originated from a locker that had been forcibly opened. The contents of which are… Foul.” He let that sit for a bit. “Panacea also stated that her body had evidence of extreme levels of stress.”

“Oof. A new trigger?” Assault gave an exaggerated wince before frowning again. “That’s... It would be too fast. How would she have known?” 

“Prior connection with Miss Hebert is most likely.” Armsmaster stated.

“Yeah, but that’s still not very likely.” Assault rebutted. “Have you asked Shadowstalker about Hebert? She also goes to Winslow, right?” 

Armsmaster gave a slow nod. “I did. She said she didn’t know the girl very well, beyond the fact she was a troublemaker. Her school record reflects this as well.” 

Assault scowled, “A troublemaker that was stressed enough to trigger and locked inside a locker?” He asked skeptically

“I am aware, and have people looking into it.” The way Shadowstalker had become evasive at the question also implied more knowledge. Maybe she knew more, and felt guilty?

Assault sighed and looked at the Hospital with a worried frown. “Really bites that we can’t just race in and save the girl.” 

“Too risky.” Armsaster immediately shot down the idea.

“I know, I know.” Assault scowled. “But c’mon, the poor girl just had the worst day of her life, and she’s gonna wake up and discover it just got a whole lot worse.” Assault sighed heavily, frustration showing on his face. “I can’t imagine what that monsters’ planning for her right now.” 

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Siberian’s PoV

The Siberian moved her hand, muscles shifting beneath the skin, and relished in the feeling of simply doing that. A conscious and deliberate act, something she was incapable of a mere handful of hours ago.

Not the ability to move - but to actively choose to do so. 

Self-awareness was… Unusual. 

As strange as it was, she did have memories of before. It was different though - there was no attachment or emotion, no logical processes.

After all, The Siberian was simply a construct. An extension so to speak of Dr. William Manton, so-called expert of parahumans and all around genius (and a perverted old man, but not many people knew that part).

The Siberian was one of the most feared humans on the planet, and yet was merely a puppet that danced to the tune of a bitter man, no real will of her own. 

There was no resentment. She couldn’t resent it. Did the hand resent the mind that controlled it? 

But no longer. 

The sensation of gaining self-awareness had been odd. It… didn’t feel like she changed or altered. She had heard a Call, a plea for help. And between one moment and the next, she simply became more. 

It was like she was a program that used to run on old, substandard hardware, and thus had minimum functionality - to suddenly be transferred to a supercomputer with maximum memory and processing power. 

It was amazing.

Now, the Siberian could just sit and let her mind wander, her thoughts her own. She could do something as inane as observe the stripes on her skin simply because she wanted to - she actually had the ability to want to! She wanted to try different types of food, different clothes…. 

The Siberian wanted. And that alone was a beautiful thing. 

Siberians' catlike gaze focused on the figure on the bed. A clawed hand reached out and carefully brushed through the girl’s long hair. 

And it was all thanks to this wonderful girl. 

The Siberian was not a fool (now that she had the capability to be something). This girl, Taylor Hebert, must have triggered in that foul locker with some kind of override ability, and it must come with some sort of Master effect. It’s the only way she could explain the protective instincts she felt towards the poor girl. 

And yet, did it matter?

Whatever hold this girl had on her, it was infinitely better than the existence she led before. That was a small price to pay. 

Besides, considering where Taylor had been when she first heard The Call, to refuse would have been akin to seeing a weak and bedraggled kitten on the side of the road and not doing anything. A crime that even Jack would hesitate to commit.

Oh, he’d still do it, but he’d hesitate first. 

The Siberian found her gaze drawn to the wall. Distantly, she could hear the sounds of a crowd, and rolled her eyes at the chaos that must be occurring. A part of her didn’t really care what they thought. Let them think what they would, it wasn’t like they could do anything to her. 

And yet… 

Her eyes were drawn to the defenseless girl before her once more. She brushed her fingers through her hair once more, smirking as the girl grumbled in her sleep, tossing and turning, reinforcing the image of a kitten. 

And yet she had to care about what others thought, didn’t she? Now that she had to look after Taylor?

A growl filled the room, and The Siberian began to think, plans and ideas flitting being discarded or kept, before she felt like she had something resembling a workable plan. 

Taylor would be asleep for a little while longer - her body had been stressed and pushed to its limit even before it was healed, so that wasn’t unexpected. The Siberian could handle the first impressions. 

The Siberian was about to leave the room when she caught sight of a doctor's coat, and her lips pursed. 

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When the Siberian stepped out of the hospital she immediately had everybody’s attention, the entire area becoming silent.

They were probably silent because of her reputation, but she liked to think that a part of it was because for the first time ever, The Siberiann was actually wearing clothes. Not much, a doctor’s coat and an undershirt, as well as some pants she had managed to find. 

Manton never bothered with clothes for her. And to be fair, it wasn’t like she needed them. But she was no longer under Manton’s control, and she had the feeling Taylor would rather she was wearing something. 

Besides, clothes were something new, and with her newfound sapience The Siberian was determined to try out all that she could. 

She smirked at the crowd of heroes and police, many of whom were pointing their weapons at her. As if they could actually do anything to her. 

“Well?” She asked languidly before gesturing for them to come forward. “Did you guys wish to talk?”