Guardian
a Worm/Destiny Crossover
Chapter 33: Mobilize
They gathered in the base, the five of them. Her, calm and still and cross-legged atop her desk. Lisa, doing many things with many pieces of technology with having a discussion with Super Assistant Kenneth over a hands-free in her ear. Sabah was drinking an unhealthily large coffee. Foil was pacing, long strides from one side of the base to the other. As she did she twirled her sword, tracing patterns in the air with the glittering blade. And then there was Roo, who looked like he hadn't slept much. There was a bulging canvas duffel that was never far from his side, and he had an air of nervous excitement to him. Her dad had wanted to come, had insisted upon it until a gentle reminder from her had him remembering that he had a job. Instead of his presence, he'd extracted a promise: no going to Vegas without talking to him about it first. It seemed kind of strange to get permission from her dad to go and do what every single fraction of the Guardian in her was screaming at her to do, but if it would make him feel better – she'd do it.
What they needed, and what she suspected Lisa was working on, was coordination. Doubtless, there were many questions to be answered in pursuit of that, but she – Taylor – was only interested in answering two. First, when was the PRT leaving? Second, how annoyed will they be when four extra people show up? Also, and somewhat unrelated: what was in the bag Roo brought with him? Unlike the first two questions, which didn't have answers (yet), she could get an answer to that last one. She got his attention by making eye contact and asked "Hey, Roo, what's in the – "
She was interrupted when Lisa clapped her hands together twice and shouted "Okay, campers! Gather 'round the fire. It's story time!" Nobody moved. She slumped in an exaggerated pout. "Or don't. Fine. Here's the skinny. Protectorate is treating this whole thing as an Endbringer event. One of the early ones, before the military stopped showing up. That means any cape who volunteers is part of the military chain of command. What that means for us is that, once we get to Vegas, we go and find Lieutenant Commander Susan Murphy and go from there. Everyone leaving from Brockton Bay has been asked to go to the official staging area, which is Fentry Park. From there, a bunch of indie teleporters are going to get us all there as quickly as they can. Any questions? No? Awesome."
Sabah stepped in. "Now we just have to decide who's going. I'm not." Foil raised a brow at that, but said nothing. Roo stepped into the silence, heaving his bag of stuff onto Lisa's desk with a grunt and a hefty thud .
"I'm not either," He opened the bag, zipper catching a few times, revealing the goodies hidden within, and started placing them on the table. "But! I'm kinda going with you, in that I spent most of last night putting the finishing touches on this stuff."
Taylor made her way over. There were silvery, egg-shaped devices had strips of sunny electric tape on them. Each and every one of them with the same thing written on it: LAST RESORT . T hey got their own little section of table, well away from the other things. On the other side was everything else. Thin, rectangular boxes in stacks of four, made of that same silvery metal. There were cylinders with vented cones on one end. Something with roughly the same dimensions as a cantaloupe with a seam around the circumference and two more on both top and bottom. It was all very interesting looking, and with the exception of the egg-shaped things – fucking grenades are you serious – she had no idea what any of it was.
So she asked. "Roo. Two questions. First, how explosive are those grenades and second, what the hell is the rest of this stuff?"
Everyone seemed to think she had some good questions. Except for Roo, who simply rolled his eyes. "The grenades and mines are perfectly safe until they're deployed. I'm not nearly crazy enough to bring unstable explosives anywhere, let alone here. As for the rest of it..."
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'The rest of it' was a system of sensors with vastly complicated tech stuffed in them. Once deployed, and the hub(the cantaloupe thing) was activated, they would make a real-time three dimensional map of their surroundings. The idea being that whatever building ended up being used as a base would be almost impossible to, say, tunnel up beneath. She liked the idea, as equally as she hated the idea of being surprised again. Once was enough. More than enough. Looking over this stuff was starting to make that unique, Guardian-ly itch reappear. The itch was to use the equipment in front of her, to protect those that needed it and make safe a place for fellow fighters to recuperate between battles.
But she did wonder... "Roo?"
"Yeah?"
"You said you're not a cape." She passed a hand over the laden table. "But this is...this all looks cape-made."
Roo scratched his scalp. The faintest stubble was starting to grow, as dark as his beard. "Well, it sort of is and isn't." She glared and he laughed, holding his hands up. "Sorry, sorry! I said that because the bombs were made by a cape, a friend of mine I met at Cornell. The sensor pack is the result of a collaboration between the geology and computer science departments from when I was at MIT. We were trying to make it easier to survey cave systems. It worked, but the amount of data the sensors made – no computer small enough to carry around could handle it, so we never used it. I'm thinking you hook this up to one of the generators Dragon's bringing in –" He clapped his hands. "Couldn't hurt."
Taylor's brows rose. That was an impressive amount of verbiage delivered very quickly, and what's more; he didn't stutter. She was about to thank him for bringing all of that with him from Boston when Sabah chimed in with, "That's some nerdy shit, man."
Roo grinned at her. "Thanks." The grin faded. "I just, you know, kinda felt bad that I couldn't go with you guys and help, so I did this."
"It'll help." Taylor said. "I don't doubt that." For some reason, he looked reassured by her words. Which caused no end of puzzlement that was ultimately put to and end by Lisa clearing her throat.
She held out a phone, a strange expression on her face. "It's Director Piggot. She wants to talk to you."
Frowning, Taylor took the offered device and put to her ear. "Hello?"
"Guardian, are you busy?" The Director's tone was clipped, her words hurried. A great deal of noise was in the background, hinting at a lot of activity.
Taylor looked around. Foil had started packing all of the stuff Roo had brought out back into the bag it came from. Sabah was watching, seeming oddly focused on the ripple and flex in the pale girl's arms. Lisa had gone to the gun safe and was standing in front of it, frowning at the contents. "Not especially, but I plan to be very soon."
"I imagine so. Before that, I want you to come in."
"Beg pardon?"
"You're the only cape in the city who's seen combat against these things. If you could come in, give these capes an idea of what they're up against, it will save lives."
Dirty pool , Taylor wanted to say. What she said instead was, "Give me five minutes. I'll get back to you."
"Call Kenneth. He'll put you through to me." Then the Director hung up. Taylor sighed.
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As luck would have it, the place this informational briefing was to take place in Fentry Park. After being reassured that Foil and Lisa and whoever else was going to Vegas would meet her there, Taylor headed out. Getting from the base, which was close to the Docks, to the park, which was not, generally took about fifteen minutes by car. Public transport added anywhere between five and ten minutes to travel time. Keeping to rooftops and alleys and going in as straight a line as possible, she managed to run there in 18 minutes. It helped, burning off any nervous energy she might have had on the way, so when she dropped off the roof of the brownstone across the street from the park she only felt warm and loose and confident.
Fentry Park was named for the Mayor who funded it. He was a heavy believer in the idea that 'kids today' were spending too much time indoors and that, given the proper incentive – a park, for example – his worry would sort itself out. To make sure it would be impossible for a child to walk past his park and not play on it, he spared no expense in its construction. Top of the line playground equipment, sandboxes, strategically placed benches for parents to keep an eagle-eye on their reckless offspring, and a wide, gently sloping field fit for any activity. The whole thing was ringed in carefully trimmed and maintained evergreens. Atypically for something built in the Bay in the 80s, when the city took a downturn, its opening was a rousing success. For the next twenty years it had a respectable, active patronage and was widely regarded as the best thing Mayor Fentry gave to his city.
The sight of so many capes, and with such a heavy tension in the air, felt intrinsically wrong. Like the park wasn't meant for anything other than a place for kids to run themselves into a tired pile of silly laughter. Or maybe it was because that this park was where Taylor as a young girl spent most of her Saturdays. She would arm herself with the mighty Sword of Trees(a branch or twig) and the Penny Shield(her mom's sweater) and go on wondrous adventures. Sometimes with a trusted friend and companion whose hair was the color of fire when the sun hit it. Sometimes...and sometimes it was just her against the all the evils her imagination could conjure.
She was met under the trees by a tall, broad man in a centurion's helm. A kite shield the color of brass hung from his back, and he leaned on a lance with a silver-metal point. She could sense the Arc within it, and once again found it lacking. He was clean-shaven, but his hair was long and dyed a deep violet. His costume was more armor than ornament, smelling of leather and polish and metal. Dauntless. "Guardian," His voice was quiet and hoarse. He shifted his lance to the crook of his left arm and offered his hand, which she took. "Glad you could make it. I was part of the clean-up team that went in after you."
"Oh." The handshake finished. She wasn't sure how to answer. "I hope I didn't leave too many for you guys." Not sure why she said that, either.
Dauntless snorted, his lips quirking up. "Just a few, and let me tell you, they were more than enough to make me very happy you agreed to do this."
"About that..."
"Yeah? Change your mind?"
"No. Just – how many people are here?"
He grinned. "Everyone who's going is here to listen to your words of wisdom. 'S a full house."
...Wonderful .
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They gave her a microphone and set up a projector screen. A little clicker to change slides. Then they left her alone – alone in the face of every single cape in the city. The Empire in full force, with Kaiser prominently displayed in their center. Dick. All two of the ABB capes were there. Lung was glowing slightly. She saw tendrils of flame licking from shoulder to elbow. The Bay's PRT team was in full attendance as well. Wards, too. And they were all looking at her. The moment stretched out as the weight of fifty gazes pressed down on her. She swallowed dryly. Then clicked the little clicker. The mangled body of a screamer appeared on the screen behind her. Out in the crowd, someone hissed in a breath.
"This is the bulk of what we're going to be up against." That didn't sound like Taylor. She sounded like her mom. Clear and cool and confident. "Screamers. You'll know they're nearby because of it – there's no mistaking it. They are very fast. I don't have specific numbers but they can keep up with me, and I can outrun some kinds of car. They're strong, too. Strong enough to dig tunnels in solid rock – which reminds me." Unbidden, the screen moved in on the splayed claws. "These things are razor sharp. I don't know how they fare against Tinker armor but they cut through Kevlar like construction paper."
A man's voice, thick with some kind of Slavic accent, rang out. "What about ranged capabilities?"
Taylor shook her head. "None, for these guys. They're strictly close range, and they're built for it. They come at you in hordes, never less than ten."
Then came a woman's voice. "How smart are they?"
"Smart enough to set traps." That set a rumble of conversation through the gathered capes. "They ambushed me in a cavern by putting something shiny right beneath a light where it would catch my eye. They only look like mindless beasts. As for specific weaknesses? Guns work. Blades work, if they're sharp enough, but I wouldn't recommend melee combat unless you're extremely good or extremely durable. They don't like being set on fire, but I'm not sure anything does."
There was a small ripple of laughter. It wasn't a joke, and it wouldn't have been funny even if it was, but there was a tension that was released. Nerves were settled. She clicked the clicker. A headless shooter came up. " These guys are the ones with ranged capability. Their arm is some kind of biological cannon that shoots this purple plasma or fire or something. Hot enough to scorch rock, but not melt it. For the record, they do have heads. They kind of look like skulls, but with a third eye above the other two, and they glow this kind of evil-looking green. They like to hide behind a group of screamers and shoot into them, and they don't care about killing their own. Also..."
And so the briefing went. Information was given and questions were answered. As the morning wore on, and the departure time drew near, Taylor saw the capes gathered begin to realize the magnitude of what they were up against. While she was talking herself into a very dry throat, she spotted Foil and Lisa – the former carrying a familiar canvas duffel – find a spot not far from where the PRT were milling. She finished explaining, or maybe failing to explain, what the nest itself looked like and what defended it, and was about to ask if anyone had any more questions when she caught a sign of movement on her periphery. A flash of blue.
Armsmaster approached, mouth turned down into a grim slash of a frown. He gestured, reaching out for the mic, which she handed over without question. If he had something he wanted to say, she was not going to stop him. Surprisingly, he turned it off for a moment and spoke only to her. "Guardian. I want to thank you for doing this."
It took her a moment to find her voice. "I – um – you're welcome. I was, uh, I was happy to help."
He nodded, face softening for a moment, before turning away and turning the mic back on. "This briefing is now concluded. In fifteen minutes, transports will be arriving to take us to the Las Vegas staging area. Please use this time to make any last minute preparations and, should you choose to leave, do so now."
Having said his piece, Armsmaster went back to his group. As the various groups turned their attentions away from her and began conversing among themselves, Taylor was left to reflect that he had a gift for hiding how uncomfortable public speaking made him. She only saw it because she made a great effort to do the same thing.
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She met Lisa and Foil by a bench in the shade of an old, gnarled tree. They were a good distance from the other groups, and could easily see each and every one without much difficulty. Also, Taylor noted, their backs were to the open city. It was almost as if – and her lips twitched upwards at the thought – the spot had been chosen on purpose. There was a familiar canvas duffel with the twin layers of protection that were being beneath the bench and behind Lisa's feet. In direct comparison with Lisa's studied patience, Foil was a tightly wound coil of energy; pacing in long strides and shredding a plucked leaf between her fingers.
Taylor was somewhere in between. She had what she was by now sure were the inborn battle instincts of a Guardian keeping her on the level. Alongside that she had experience with the enemy they were about to face, which did a lot to ease any anxiety about the unknown. On the other hand, because she had that experience and was also a sane, thinking human being, she felt a small knot in her stomach that had to be apprehension. She longed for the weight of her pistol on her leg, ran the fingertips of her hand across her sheathed knife. It was a comfort in the small of her back, and would see no small amount of use in the coming hours. She knew it would drive her dad up the wall – perhaps literally – but the idea of her being anywhere but the front line was like sandpaper scraped on the tip of her tongue.
"Hey." Lisa's voice drew her from her thoughts. She reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Taylor's ear. "So it turns out that my powers work better when I'm in the same time zone as what I'm looking at. Which means I have to go." She gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "And I had such plans."
Taylor caught her girlfriend's hand as it fell, winding their fingers together. She stepped a little closer. It would be easy to play along with the breezy banter, but this was too...too big to do it. "I'm not sure I want you to come."
Lisa sighed, genuine this time. "So much for lightening the mood. Look, I'm not sure I wanna go. But – I don't know. It seems shitty to let my girlfriend go to war without me. And I don't trust those analyst guys the Protectorate's dug up for this. They might – they might get something wrong, or miss something. I won't."
"Okay." Taylor nodded. "Okay."
"I brought your gun."
"Thanks."
The time came. Transports, looking kind of like buses that learned to fly, swooped into Fentry Park a half-dozen at a time. Still holding Lisa's hand, Taylor led the three of them onto one to Vegas, and to war.
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