-2 weeks after BBQ-
‘Why now? Why come after me now?’ Taylor asked herself as she ran through the back alleys. 2 ABB members of Japanese descent and one Korean were following her through the maze of Brockton alleys. They had shouted in rapid-fire Japanese, broken for the Korean to each other. ‘I know Emma wouldn’t sick the ABB on me after what almost happened. Shit, I don’t know anyone else who could have done it.’ Taylor thought to herself as she climbed on a dumpster to jump over a chain fence.
“You fucked up white hair.” a third Japanese man said as he waited on the other side of the alley. “Nice and exotic; CUI would pay good money for a exotic sex slave like you.”
“Shit.” That was all Taylor could say as the three chasers closed in, blocking any chance of escape. ‘When you can’t run, fight. Kick, claw, bite, kill, and even my death is preferable.’ Taylor thought to herself as she settled into a fighting stance. A mix of MMA and MCMAP from several dockworkers.
“Oh, white hair wants to fight. Get her.” the man in front of the alley said to the chasers. The Korean drew a knife, while one of the Japanese guys pulled a gun, and the third got into a ready stance, clearly not formally trained. Taylor marked the guy with the gun as the most dangerous, knife as second, the Blocker as third, and idiot as fourth. Lunging for the closest, she punched Knife in the throat before grabbing and pulling him close as the Gunman squeezed a shot off. The bullet hit Knife and missed Taylor, as chunks of his lung and ribcage spewed out of the new hole in his torso covering Taylor. The idiot started puking his guts out as parts of knife landed on him. The gore temporarily blocks Taylor's vision of the knife.
‘Shit, where is the knife? No time, go for the gunman.’ Taylor thought to herself as she tossed the body to the side and sent a kick to the gunman's knee. Missing barely, but distracting the gunman focused on Taylor's legs, not her hands. As fast as she could, she grabbed the gun, rapidly twisting it towards the wielder and disarming the gunman. She barely got control of the weapon when an ice-cold feeling suddenly washed over her back. Adrenaline spiked as the perception of time slowed almost to a crawl. Casually she pulled the trigger, ending the gunman's life via a 9mm lead implant, before turning around to meet the idiot with the knife, blood on his hands, her blood. She casually leveled the gun before her brain realized she was dead and collapsed onto the pavement.
On a rooftop, Sophia noted the body of Taylor as it fell to the ground like a puppet without strings. “Damn shame, you could have been a great predator.” She whispered to herself. Turning around and stopping only because she heard… something.
“May she find extraordinary luck in her service.”
“What the hell?” Sophia questioned.
“She is the most decorated warship in the fleet.”
The two ABB members down below were panicking as well.
“I swear when I am done, the Japanese language will only be spoken in hell.”
A gunshot was heard, and like Concord before; it was heard around the world as Taylor stood up, a rifle tucked into her hands and a scowl upon her lips. The man stabbed her dropped dead as his torso evaporated, and a pair of Dauntlesses crashed behind him.
Across the city, in a Shinto Shrine, a large Japanese man and the shrine's caretaker sat drinking tea when all of the bells started chiming.
“A Kami?” The Japanese man asked.
“No, an old Ghost.” The shrine maiden corrected.
Inside the PRT building Strike team rooms, several men and women were running around, the rocks in their hands glowing while the alarms were blaring.
“Director Piggot to STF. What the hell is going on!” Was heard through the radios.
“SGT Riz to Piggot. Soup contingency, and a large one.” One of the men called into the radio.
“Radar to Console, I am getting a large contact in the city. Can you confirm?”
“Console to Radar, all I have is reports of gunshots in the alleys around Smith and Davidson.”
“Radar to Console, that is where the radar anomaly is.”
“CPT Angel to Piggot, Bump that up to Code Ghost.”
Constitution stood up as she felt a large pulse, similar, no, the same pulse on that January afternoon. Quickly pulling out her phone, she dialed the Director's number and, without hesitating, informed the director.
“Enterprise is awake, and she is angry.”
“Well then, find who made her angry and put their head on a pike. I am pulling you off Bermuda Incidents and conducting a full sweep of HOSV Brockton Bay. I want to have the problem dealt with before SECNAV has to be read in. Understood.” The director said as calmly as can be. But Constitution could hear the fury underlying his tone; hell, she practically groomed him for the role. Not that she understood the anger as she felt it too.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Constitution succinctly replied as she hung up.
In Japan, Mikasa enjoyed tea at a shrine dedicated to Susanoo, that she was quite fond of. When the bells started ringing in a foreboding tone Mikasa and the shrine maiden took note.
“Do you think the depths have broken free? Because the bells are ringing in a rather grim manner,” Mikasa asked the shrine maiden.
“No, the tone is only foreboding to you. It was melodic, yet fading, like a ghost in the mist.” The Shrine maiden responded as she got up. Leaving Mikasa to ruminate on what the bells mean.
Enterprise felt the thrum of her nine Babcock & Wilcox boilers turning four geared steam. Her radar turned on long enough to ensure it worked. Looking at the final gang member who cornered her, Enterprise looked him up and down. ‘He has a dancer physique; let's test that.’
“My dear Chicago Piano’s, play him his last song,” Enterprise said with a scowl. The staccato of 1.1-inch guns turning the last guy into chunky salsa. ‘That was a waste of ammo, but getting a Dauntless to pepper him with .30 cal would take too long.’ Suddenly she felt ravenous, to an almost crippling degree. Her quartermasters were demanding supplies, and she needed to fill them. Especially since she accidentally wrecked two scout bombers. She walked out of the alleyway, not noticing Sophia turn into a shadow and run.
“Fuck me, Dad; of all the times a cellphone would have been useful, now is one of them,” Taylor swore to herself as she walked out of the alleyways. One of the lookouts called out ‘Flying Blond’ to her aft quarter. Turning around and noticing Victoria flying overhead, she felt a childish need to get even for the shopping trip. “VICTORIA, AURA!” Taylor yelled out.
Victoria froze up and went rigid in attention, temporarily reining all her powers, including flight. As she went to attention, she fell ironically towards the person who called out to her. Crashing to the ground at highway speeds, she bounced once before being saved by Taylor.
“Wow, Victoria, I just knocked you out of the sky with my words alone,” Taylor said with a cheeky smile.
“Oh my god Taylor! Why are you covered in blood? When did you get a gun? What is that shield on your arm? When did you get that freaky backpack? Are you ok? Do we need Ames?” Victoria shouted in a rapid-fire manner.
“In order. Most of the blood isn’t mine; it's mostly ABB blood. I would prefer my bow, but the Springfield is a good rifle. That shield is a runway, you know, for things that don’t have vertical lift capability. That backpack will take a lot to explain. I am ok, and no, we don’t need Amy. But I would appreciate it if you could take me to Fuglies. I am starving.” Taylor responded with a severe tone.
“Umm, should we call the PRT? I think you triggered?” Victoria questioned, giving Taylor a look over. “Don’t give me the Spock Brow; I recognize parahuman triggers when I see them.”
“Brat, this is not even close to the worse day of my life,” Taylor responded with a grunt of frustration.
“Now you are talking like my grandmother.” Victoria snarked.
“Ha, I am probably older than her. But seriously, as much as I would like to explain, I must satisfy my quartermasters. If you take me and pay for it, I will agree to a 4-hour shopping trip.” Taylor responded.
“Deal!” Victoria responded all too eagerly.
