Chapter 47: Nightmares To Come

-Emily Piggot POV-

Emily was a rather cantankerous individual. Many would agree on that. She, herself, would agree, begrudgingly. So to say she was currently livid would not surprise anyone familiar with her.

But the extent of her fury would certainly take some aback.

“So Battery is gone?” Emily closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. Too much stress was bad for her, according to the doctors. 

No shit.

Unfortunately, this cursed city wasn’t exactly a place of fun and whimsy.

“Yes ma’am,” answered Miss Militia. Emily had always…not liked her, but tolerated her. She was one of the few good ones, straight backed and loyal to a fault. Emily certainly couldn’t imagine her retreating unless she was ordered to at least.

Currently, she wasn’t the picture perfect soldier she always presented herself as. The kindly eye wrinkles, something PR had apparently coached her on for months when she was a Ward, were completely absent. In their place was the cold, dead, stare of a defeated woman.

“Battery was ambushed while attempting to arrest the individual we assumed was Stormtiger. A member of the hostages revealed himself to be a member of the fallen and mastered her. Their current whereabouts are unknown.”

It had been a few hours since the incident, more than enough time to escape the city.

“And Assault?” Emily asked, already knowing the answer to her question.

“He’s gone AWOL and followed after them, against the orders he was given.” Miss Militia’s tone was carefully flat, as if afraid to give away her own thoughts on the subject. 

Emily snorted, the woman could be surprisingly empathetic for an otherwise cold and efficient subordinate - especially when it came to her coworkers.

“Brilliant, just brilliant. Is there any other piece of news I should know,” she griped. Oh, Emily knew why Assault had chosen to follow after his wife. The PRT’s track record of recovering past Fallen victims was not exactly stellar.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t a pain in the ass for her.

“There were a few more disappearances, likely targets of opportunity for the Fallen, and there are some disturbing reports coming from the docks.”

Piggot rubbed her forehead tiredly. When it rains, it pours.

“What disturbing reports?”

Miss Militia hesitated for a moment, never a good sign, before pushing on.

“New gang signs. Reports of gatherings with a distinctly…religious bent. Normally not something that would have been seen as too urgent but…” Miss militia trailed off, Emily already seeing where she was going with this.

“But with the Fallen having made an appearance it’s suspected there’s a connection?”

The woman nods, and the Director has to bite back a snarl.

They were already being pushed by the Empire, the ABB and a menagerie of minor villains. Ever since Armsmaster was called in the gangs had taken full advantage of the leader of the Protectorate’s absence. They had become more bold, advancing into more affluent areas, ones which the PRT typically patrolled.

The loss of Battery and Assault would only make things worse, and now they might have to deal with a slinger faction of the Fallen permanently taking up territory here?

No. Not on her watch.

“We’ll need to act fast, before this information gets back to the gangs. Investigate these groups, see if they have any genuine ties to the Fallen. If so we will need to act swiftly and expel them before they have the chance to dig their roots in. Hopefully a show of force like that will dissuade the rest of the gangs.”

Miss Militia nods.

“And if it doesn’t ma’am?” Her subordinate asks her.

Emily Piggot gives the woman a judgemental stare, she should already know the answer to that question. If the gangs continued to push, and if the Chief Director kept refusing to give her reinforcements, then the PRT -and the city- would be in dire jeopardy.

If things genuinely got to the point Emily may have to consider whistleblowing, going public with the state of Brockton Bay and the lack of help her department had been given.

That wasn’t a choice she wanted to make if she could help it. The Director had made more than a few questionable decisions regarding the safety of this city, had consolidated power in a way that was against the spirit of the rules of her organisation - if not the letter.

Going public would ruin her and her future prospects, but Emily Piggot was nothing if not spiteful. If this city was being dragged under she’d ensure that frigid bitch was dragged down with her.

After a few more briefings, Miss Militia departed on a patrol and the Director was left to stew in her quiet rage. What else could go wrong today?

An alert drew her out of her musings.

A quick check caused her eyebrows to raise in surprise. It would seem the prodigal cape had returned.

Piggot had been keeping a close eye on Colin’s work in New Fukuoka, it reflected on her after all. For the most part she was pleased, he had conducted himself well and earned the honours others had heaped upon him.

It was because of Armsmaster that the PRT had access to the ‘Miracle Drive’, a collection of all of the wonderful technology within New Fukuoka. Later he had played key roles in neutralising the warlord cape that had subjugated the islands near Japan and storming New Fukuoka. Then he was called away.

Which was when the complications began to pile up.

As one of the foremost Tinkers of the Protectorate he was called in to help arrest ‘The Architects’. That much was logical, Armsmaster would be a useful asset in such a mission. Unfortunately that was not what happened.

Instead Colin was at ground zero for an Endbringer’s reveal to the world, during which 99% of all capes sent to fight it died horribly.

And to make matters worse it was a Biotinker. The thought made me shudder, a cold sweat beginning to form once again. Nilbog was bad enough, but he was just human at the end of the day, his malice couldn’t compare to a being that had been compared, by some, to the Simurgh.

Now it was building another bastion of horrors, just like Ellisburg. Emily felt ashamed to admit she had only sparingly paid attention to what was happening to the husk of Hyderabad. Watching felt like it was too much, like she was making it real simply by observing the horror.

A foolish thought, but not one she could shake. Just the thought of those things and their clawsandfangsandgnashingmputhsohgodtheywereeverywheresomeonemakeitstopwhyaremymendying?Wherearetheheroes,whyhavetheyabandonedus?

Searing pain, a crooning hiss.

Emily gasped, her face slick with sweat. The many medical machines attached to her whined like a disobedient pup, but she ignored them.

She was fine.

She should simply…consider different matters.

Armsmaster was one of the few survivors. In surviving what so many others hadn’t his reputation had skyrocketed, far surpassing her estimations.

Which was a problem.

During her tenure Emily had done all she could to consolidate her influence over the PRT and Protectorate. She had abused emergency situations, loopholes and hidden clauses to ensure all activities the PRT did ran through her first. 

Someone else would fuck it all up, after all.

It was why she had Armsmaster had no leadership over the Wards.

But now her position was at risk. Piggot held no illusions regarding her relationship with Armsmaster. It was a spiteful one, full of one upmanships from both sides.

With his newfound fame and influence it would be an understatement to say he was a threat to the careful balance she had maintained since she was deployed in this wretched city. Colin may well be able to completely upset the entire board.

Still, public acclaim was fickle. Give Armsmaster higher funding and remove the limit on how much the man can tinker and he could go weeks without leaving the Protectorate HQ.

Yes, that could work as a start. she would have to call her own allies in the PRT, maybe burn a few favours, but it could be done.

“Send him up,” she spoke into her microphone. 

It took him about four minutes to reach her, slower than usual. Perhaps that should have been the first sign that something was wrong.

When the door opened she was prepared to berate him, to grill him for details regarding his latest mission. Instead, as she looked at Armsmaster, her plots and schemes suddenly became oh so distant.

The man was the picture of haggard. Dirt crusted his usually immaculate armour, muddying the light blue and white. There were deep bags under his eyes and a stare that seemed both vacant and hyper aware at once.

It was a sight that sent chills down her spine, and a clammy feeling began gnawing at the back of her throat as memories began to claw at the back of her head.

She had seen that look before, oh so very long ago.

How could she not? She had worn it herself.

It was the look of someone who had given everything, someone who had pushed past their limits and still failed utterly. It was the gaze of a man who had seen so many die pointlessly, to be one of the few who survived – without rhyme or reason as to why.

Emily Piggot’s breathing increased as she tried to hammer down the memories of that awful day. The day she and her squad were sent in to combat those pale, hunched, freaks. The day she was abandoned by those who called themselves heroes. The day a sharp claw dug into her insides, intent on eating her kidneys in front of her – voracious and eager for her slow death.

“Director?”

Then, she was back. Back in her office, in her chair with her shitty coffee still in front of her.

Armsmaster was watching her, his expression one of profound tiredness – clearly trying to muster the urge for concern but failing in the face of numbness and bone deep exhaustion.

“Get out.” The words came harsher than intended, the bite of her words surprising even her. She had to rush the next words, to get an excuse out. “You’re clearly exhausted Armsmaster, this can clearly wait until you’ve gotten some proper rest.”

The man looked faintly shocked for a second. Then she can see the moment he, wisely, decides not to question his good fortune and lumbers out of the room – his every footstep conveying his tiredness.

The door closes, and Emily Piggot is forced to confront the fact that, now, Armsmaster is like her.

-Shuffle POV-

It was dark here.

Mary wasn’t sure when she had gotten used to that.

Her nostrils burned with the acrid stench of her own vomit.

That, she had also gotten used to.

What she couldn’t get used to, however, was the endless meaningless transfers she and the rest of her group had been subject to.

It was such an innocuous thing to hate, to despise.

Every morning, without fail, they would be dragged out of their rooms, blindfolded, and marched to a new set of temporary cells. Chubster, in the few times they had been allowed to talk, had speculated it might be a way to prevent escape. Couldn’t plan your way out of Jinzhou’s ad hoc prison system if you didn’t know the layout or where you were. The constant movements, then, were to prevent them from learning said information.

All it did was set her on edge and dredge up horrible memories. Times where she had been constantly moved around against her will. Bouncing from foster home to foster home, never given the slightest illusion of choice and always disappointed.

She could tell the others were becoming increasingly worried in the few times she saw them.

She was a mess. Her hair was tangled and knotted and her face was a pale nightmare that seemed to only ape at life. Her form was becoming thinner, a consequence of not being able to keep down her meals.

Fuck, there were so many times she was sure she had second triggered, had reached out to…something. But the dream would always end, and she would always be dragged back to this waking nightmare.

How much longer would this go on? Surely the PRT would negotiate for their release? She wouldn’t be stuck here forever, would she?

Shuffle began to tremble. The days were getting blacker and she knew, in her heart of hearts, that things would only get worse for her.

AN: I just got back from Corsica, I have been up way too long. Fuck travelling.

So, this is a bit of a set up chapter. It teases two events that will occur sometime in the future of this fic, one of which is obviously Alexander visited a very different Brockton Bay. The other is a secret, but I’m sure many of you may already know what’s up.

Also, I loled pretty hard when I realised that Armsmaster becoming one of the few survivors of an S-Class massacre might make Piggot see him differently. Not sure whether it’s a positive or a negative change just yet, but we’ll see.

Thaks for reading, please leave a comment!