Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A/N: I must be insane. I already have two stories running!

Here goes nothing!

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)
Arc 1.1 Mom

Life sucks donkey dick and then you died. That is the undeniable truth of this world.

At least, that is how I saw it. This would help explain why my dad died of cancer when I was barely able to walk, or why my mom disappears for months to a year. Not surprising since Dad once mentioned he had found Mom when he too went on a long trip to some remote island and found her there. So the mom of Taylor Hebert is a mail order bride. Joy!

Yet Child Protection Services never got around to rescuing me from Mrs Hebert, deadbeat Mom extraordinaire. Maybe because she does some shady shit for them and their suit bosses. It’s like Mom thinks I’m blind and hard of smelling to not notice the smell of cordite from the basement, or the explosives she hides in the bags of baking flour. I will leave aside all those guns of various shapes and sizes or all the body armour.

Mommy dearest never really left me wanting though. Whatever the hell she was doing, it paid rather well, which is why were still able to keep the house despite having only one source of erratic income.

Having Dad’s old friend Mr Barnes pick up the slack on parenting duties helped a lot too, in keeping me relatively well adjusted. I only get into a few fights a year that actually required police intervention. A shame one of them involved his youngest daughter Emma who is also my former bestie.

So maybe I overreacted after she found a new friend and started to disassociate herself from me, publicly telling everyone I fear my mom’s a psycho merc. I probably should not have broken Emma’s nose with a punch, but no one gets to call my mom a raging psycho but me.

Mr Barnes was actually generous enough to post bail for me, after Mom skipped town again. He did mention in passing it was Mom’s money, so he isn’t that big a softie and he was pretty pissed over the surgery for his daughter’s nose, but it’s the thought that counts.

So after I ate a three day suspension for assault, provoked or not, no one in school really dared to start shit with the crazy half blond girl. There was one Madison who did try to superglue my seat, but after I smelled it- glue has that distinct smell and Mom uses stronger mixes for her traps round the house- I accidentally tripped next to her desk with my elbow aiming for her head.

I ate a week’s suspension, but the cops couldn’t get me to break and the cameras showed me tripping and I did injure myself. The Clements girl got a hospital stay and a concussion though, so it balances out.

I heard from the grapevine, meaning Mom bragged about it to me that she had visited the homes of the Superintendent of the School District and Principal Blackwell to persuade them to drop all charges. In a mask, at three in the morning, complete with many guns and a heated knife complete with a lecture on how much damage genitals can take from heated metal before it’s completely useless. She didn’t name me of course. Mom’s crazy, not stupid and she merely insisted they drop ALL investigations ongoing.

So in the end, only that Sophia Hess still wanted to bring me down, or had the guts to try. And I guess she has connections since those tranquilizers she used on me probably didn’t come easy. Nor were the zip ties she used to bind me as she dragged me to a dumpster and tossed me into it. Through the groggy haze, I swear I could hear Emma and the rest of her clique giggling at finally taking down that butch psycho.

I doubt they’re that dumb to be talking shit about Sophia to her face, so they must be referring to me. Mom once remarked I somehow missed out on all her good looking genes when she bothered to visit me once in a while.

My limp body was hurled into the dumpster with great glee before it was closed. Sophia made a crack about taking out the trash, but it was so bad not even the awkward laughter could cover it up.

“Hey Tay?” I could hear Emma in her honeyed tones from beyond the dark surroundings of the dumpster. “The garbage men are on strike, so you can expect to be in her, for oh a week? Have fun!”

I’d swear bloody vengeance on her and promised to rip out her silicone nose, but my jaw muscles weren’t working too well and the stench was making me gag while the bugs are making me jittery.

I had no idea how long I was stuffed in that hell, but I was finally able to move my mouth and took in a deep breath through my mouth before I got into a coughing fit. I suppose I went insane, or more insane considering who raised me.

So I did what Mom did when she was not on a psychotic high- sing.

I didn’t recognise the words, but it sounded beautiful like Mom is when she isn’t being a nutjob who resorts to violence at the slightest provocation.

Hajimari no hikari
Kirali... kirali
Owari no hikari
Lulala lila

The Light at the beginning, beautiful and shining. The Light at the end, burning out at the end of time.

Kaesan el ragna
Suna dokei wo
Toki wa afuren

The Gods who left at the end of time

The hourglass in which time overflows.

Utae... Utae
Ima futatsu no negai wa
Tsuyoku... Tsuyoku
Ten no konjiki to kirameku
Towa wo kataran

Sing... Sing, now, these two wishes
Strongly... Strongly shine of the gold of Heaven.
They speak of eternity.

Huh, someone is singing along with me in perfect synchronization. I squinted my eyes from the sudden light that invaded the darkness I was trapped in, and saw a face that was both welcome and loathed.

Golden blonde hair that flowed down to her hips, perfectly raised cheekbones and full, luscious lips with a natural gloss and ruby eyes. She gave me a wide grin, as if seeing her only child tied up and thrown in with the garbage was the most amusing thing in the world.

Considering her idea of a friendly greeting though, she probably thinks it is.

Crazy bitch.

“Hi Mom. How’s my singing?” I croaked out through my dehydrated and cracking throat. My mother gave a chuckle before she pulled me out by the arms from the dumpster, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she removed the zip ties.

“Good, which I cannot say for the rest of you. How the hell did you end up here anyway? Lost a fight?”

I shot a glare to my mother as I brushed away the bugs crawling around me and the garbage still clinging to me. Priorities are an alien thing to her it seems.

“Darts and tranquilizers.” Mom nodded at my explanation, before she proffered her advice.

“Told you to wear body armour.” She helped massage my legs as I laid on the floor to get the blood flowing, before she stood up and offered me her hand.

“Well, enough moping around. I was almost lynched by my sister once and I didn’t sit around crying my heart out! C’mon. Follow me and I will introduce Vilkiss and his new sibling to you!”

I glared at my mother, before sighing and deciding to go along with whatever shady character she wants me to meet after I went dumpster diving.

Ange Hebert, you’re a horrible mother.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.2

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As we approached the fences with barbed wire, I couldn’t help but notice the trashed cameras littering the place. Mom darted into a corner, before reappearing with a duffle bag bulging with goods. She pulled out two pairs of headsets, strapped on two bandoliers of grenades and a submachine gun. She pressed a button on her headset after putting it on and a red visor that blocked the upper half of her face rolled down from the headband. I grabbed a similar headset, rebreather with attached gas canister and-no shit- a handgun that Mom threw at me, and looked blankly at her while I was fiddling with her gifts.

The headset, not the gun. I grew up with them. I know better than to treat them like toys. Not sure what the rebreather was for though. Was my mom planning to gas someone? Wouldn’t put it past her though

“Put it on.”

Well, I guess I’m in the family business now. Mom didn’t wait for her daughter to get suited up before she began to walk through a giant hole in the fence nonchalantly, the gun’s strap slung over her shoulders. I hurried after her, alert for any sort of unwanted company. Even a shithole like Winslow had police alarms installed into the fences and I doubt they’d take kindly to someone wrecking the place.

Were it not for that red visor, Mom in her black jacket and jeans didn’t look like a cape. As it is now, she looked like one of the low-rentals that sold their services for a price. Which if my suspicions were true, she probably is.

But the powers of being a psychotic blonde female Rambo? What kind of lame power is that?

I followed Mom, and almost gagged at the stench on me once my sense of smell returned as the tranquilizers wore off.

“Mom, I need a shower.” My mother stopped mid stride and glared at me, acting as if wanting to wash off the stench of day old garbage was an unreasonable request.

“Funny, the knockout gas I’ve put into that rebreather ought to have worked by now.”

Knock what gas?

I felt limp as I fell towards Mom’s waiting arms before the world went black.

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Ange

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I grabbed onto Taylor as she fell forward into my embrace, cradling her like I used to do whenever I was able to stay on Bet for any amount of time. Could do without the smell though, but I’d take it as a reminder to really have my girl focus on her CQC and situation awareness training. She must be slacking off if she got caught unawares without a bratty sister stabbing you in the arm like it happened to me. Or a horny virgin pervert scientist with god powers for that matter. I carried Taylor to a grey sedan I’ve taken from some hapless chump who was picking up a street walker.

Well, actually he wasn’t a hapless chump. He was a pimp who worked for the ABB. Didn’t know the ABB started recruiting South Asians recently, but Asian is Asian I guess. Still a hapless chump after I headshot him and knocked his girls out though. I put my girl into the back seat, resting near the bags of tools I will be needing for the job. I drove into the Asian sector of projects, where waves of immigrants from Japan and other parts of Northeast Asia turned the place into a fertile recruiting ground for the ABB. Driving a car with tinted windows owned by one of their own helped as the ABB loitering near the street corners barely glanced in my direction as I drove near one of their workshops.

Well, they will certainly be looking once I’ve done what I came to do.

I opened up the window as the two posted sentries approached my car, their guns still holstered under their shirts. I threw a flashbang on the approaching duo before I followed with a couple of frag grenades which went off with a crack, killing off the approaching sentries. I then grabbed a rocket launcher from the backseat, went out of the driver’s seat using the engine block as cover before I fired off towards the garage door. The rocket streaked towards the metal rollers before it connected, going off with a bang that left a large hole in the door before a secondary ball of light formed where the rocket detonated and further tore open the rollers.

I just love dragonium based energy rockets. So useful! I almost kissed my weapon, but a stinging reminder of swollen lips when it touched heated metal dissuaded me from doing so.

Tossing aside the now expanded launcher, I sprayed pass the smoking doors with an entire mag full of submachine gun rounds and lobbed a few more frags in different directions for good measure before I reloaded with another full clip and moved in, my weapon scanning for enemies. I squeezed off a couple rounds towards some twitching ABB on the floor, trying to ignore that they’re not much older than Taylor was as I made my way to my hoverbike they kept inside. I heaved a sigh of relief that they haven’t dismantled the bike and I didn’t have to make one of the mechanics put it back together.

On second thought, it’d be pretty hard considering I’ve fragged and shot them all. Sorry Tusk, guess I still haven’t learnt your lessons on not needlessly escalating. Sorry, promising future scumbag criminals for gunning you down in a hail of explosions and gunfire. Go me for being lucky and all that.

My ring glowed and the hoverbike came to life, the lights on her console shining brightly even in the dimmed lights of the garage. I grabbed onto the handlebars and rode it towards the exit, before I came to a stop right above the grey sedan I’ve acquired, a frown on my face as I saw an ABB pointing a knife at Taylor’s throat while using her as a shield. The young Asian gangbanger began yelling at me in some language that I didn’t understand, and his hand was trembling so I guess he was probably upset I’ve shot his friends or family inside the garage. Or maybe it was the grenades. Don’t know, don’t really care.

On the other hand, I can’t have some random thug holding my daughter as a hostage, so I shot him in the chest through her.

I landed the hoverbike next to Taylor and the guy who took her hostage and separated them. I saw that the ABB was still breathing, even as the blood was staining his shirt.

“Human shields only work if your opponent is hesitant about shooting the shield. And pick a fat guy when you do.” I pointed to the tall, gaunt figure of my daughter. Why can’t she inherit my curves, only my hair and voice?

“Does she look fat to you?” I think he gurgled out something, probably to cuss me out or to thank me for the gem of wisdom. Probably the former, since if he was so smart he won’t be dying like a dog on the street shot by me. Also, he expired halfway while he attempted to give me the finger. Okay, so he was definitely cussing me out.

I turned to my daughter, her chest still moving up and down, but I could feel her pulse slowing as I felt it form her neck. Well, that won’t do. So I put another round into her chest to hasten the process, and started to count the seconds on my wrist watch.

One, two, three, four, five.

Hey, come on now. Don’t tell me the tech didn’t work?

Six, seven…and a flash of light as the wounds disappeared, Taylor’s cheeks regained colour and even the stench of day old trash no longer lingered on her.

Embryo if there’s a hell and you’re listening to it, I want to let you know. You may have been a creepy, rapist, genocidal, dirty old man whose real body died a virgin, but your immortality tech is really wonderful. Thank you for dying and letting me have the chance to implant it into my daughter.

Also, your dick’s still smaller than Tusk’s.

A cracking noise from my headset as I heard the soothing tones of Salako and Hilda squabbling away in the background while Vivian’s hyper greeting made me crack a smile.

“Yo Ange! You ready to come home or what?”

I cracked a smile at the redheaded DRAGON girl’s enthusiasm and confidence in my ability to get things done. Shuffling noises on the other end and I heard Tusk’s smooth voice warmly greet me over the communications.

“Hey love. How’s our daughter?”

Hmph, focus on the kid and ignore the old lady huh? Men!

“She’s fine, honey.” I could hear his wince from over the line as he heard the italics.” Please have the portal set over this coordinates. I’m bringing Taylor home.”

A whirlpool with arcs of lighting appeared over my hoverbike and pink and white dragons the size of the grey sedan I was clearing out shot out of them, their wings flapping in the air as they circled me to lookout for threats. I waved at my escorts before I turned to prepare the hoverbike for ascension into the portal.

Arzenal? I’m home!

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A/N: Ange of the Norma. Giving zero fucks since forever.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.3 Mom

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A/N: So apparently oestrogen is spelt differently in the Commonwealth. To think I’ve been following the American way of spelling so long. Since Tay’s a yank, Estrogen it is. Not going to budge on other spelling though.

For most people, the saline smell of the sea and the feel of the ocean breeze beating on your face is something to be savoured, memories of happier times. Most people are not me, because Mom usually takes me to the beach to do sit-ups in the rising tide. That’s if she isn’t making me learn to swim with a full pack of equipment in the Bay. To be fair, she’s always right next to me, and she didn’t swear at me unlike the movies she made me watch where the drill instructors always cusses out a storm.

Mom though? She usually laughs at the scenes where the recruits are getting put through the grinder. Not the mocking kind of laugh, but the kind where nostalgia is tinged with the bittersweet taste of times gone by. Though I’m sure most people don’t regard Apocalypse Now or Full Metal Jacket as family friendly fare like she does.

“Wakey, Wakey! Rise and shine, Taylor because it’s going to be a wonderful day!”

Oh God, it’s that sunny voice she takes when she has devised a new way to make me the perfect child soldier like she is. Fuck you CPS, you worthless sacks of shit. Too pussy to take on a real threat like Mom?

A sharp pain in my shoulder jolted my eyes open to the glorious sight of my mom pinching me and a flight of pink dragons the size of a medium size car surrounding the hoverbike I was riding shotgun on. I closed my eyes again, hoping whatever psychedelic drugs Mom had inserted into her homemade knockout gas was going to wear off before I opened my eyes again.

And there’s now a gigantic purple Dragon with a dozen eyes that’s the size of three of those yachts abandoned In the Ship Graveyard approaching us. Whatever Mom spiked me with, it’s some seriously strong shit. Since when did Mom sign up with the fine businessmen of Archer Bridge?

“Mom, is Skidmark your new boyfriend?” My mother’s ruby eyes glared murderously at me as she spat out her denial into the roaring wind. Guess she’s not the type to care much about spittle.

“Why the fuck would I get involved with that shitstain?” I pointed at the approaching crimson genetic throwback dreamed up by a Merchant approaching us, massive wings flapping lazily in the clouds.

“When the Merchants said they’re chasing Puff the Magic dragon, I never figured they meant it literally.” Mom looked at the gargantuan lizard coaxed out by my drug altered state, before she sighed and turned to look at me.

“Sweetie, I didn’t drug you and yes the DRAGONs are real.” I could almost hear Mom using the word for fantasy lizard like it was some acronym. I decided not to ask what it means in case it’s something really, really stupid. We descended below cloud cover and the saline smell got stronger as I saw a glittering ocean leading into an enclosed bay. I saw large crystalline structures sticking out of the ground and hills, with similar gargantuan dragons chewing on them while being surrounded by the smaller pink ones still surrounding our ride. I snuck a glance at Mom, her face beaming brightly at the scene. The geography of the place looks almost entirely too familiar, until I recognised the wilderness as a Brockton Bay as if it had never been settled.

“Mom, whoever sold you the meth crystals you spiked me with got ripped off. I’m totally tripping balls.” My mom sighed before she yelled out to one of the small pink dragons to the right of our hoverbike.

“Vivian! Taylor here thinks you’re something crazy she dreaming up because I gave her some drugs!” A high pitched cry of annoyance, before I saw the flying lizard swerve right next to me, her neck muzzling my face. Despite everything, I giggled and stroked the surprisingly smooth skin of the dragon. It cooed in satisfaction, before it withdrew the neck and licked me enthusiastically with her forked tongue. Okay, so this is too real and the dragon is way too cute to be a drugged out illusion.

Hmm, is this why people humanize their pets? I’m starting to think of this lizard as a girl now. Mom laughed lightly, almost giggling. It was something I don’t see much about her, this gentle almost regal side of her. If only she was more like this rather than psycho soldier of fortune I’d be more normal in my upbringing.

Maybe Emma wouldn’t have turned against me if I was more normal.

I felt the hoverbike we were on slow down for landing, as both our headsets squawked. Mom’s expression was suddenly all business and I felt my own posture straighten in response. Despite my denials, Mom’s training have left their mark.

“This is Arzenal Command. Command One, please come in, over.” I saw the hoverbike maneuverer above a rocky island with a hangar and several fortifications built into the stones. I estimated the island is the same distance from Brockton Bay as the Protectorate Rig was back in my world. From on high, I saw several figures gathered at the end of the open air runway, but it was too far for me to make out their features.

“This is Ange. Arzenal Command, am I cleared for landing, over?” Mom’s clipped, professional tone was something I rarely heard. Even when she was running me ragged there was an undertone of some kind of emotion rather than this clinical detachment she was displaying. It made me feel a measure of respect for her not related to her incredible physical and soldier skills.

She’s still an awful mother though.

“Roger that, Command One. Please proceed to Runway Seven-Seven for landing. Welcome back, Commander. Arzenal, out.”

The hoverbike landed without incident at the runway where the crowd had gathered and I was struck at how much estrogen was in the welcoming committee. I could make out only one man in the entire gathering- a strangely familiar man in his late twenties with deep blue eyes, chiselled face and extremely toned body that his olive green t-shirt and pants were doing a very poor job of hiding. I felt my face flush as he gave me a warm smile and hugged me before I pushed him off. Hunk or not, I’m not in the habit of letting strange men hug me for nothing. I felt my heart sink as he embraced Mom in a bear hug as she tore off her face cover visor before they exchanged a deep, passionate kiss.

Figures my blonde bombshell of a mom got the hunk over her roided up stick insect of mostly brunette daughter. I spotted a redhead with clear blue eyes and a figure that makes Emma and her equally curvy sister Anne green with envy glaring at Mom and her new boyfriend with barely concealed anger. She was dressed in the same uniform of a white vest beneath a white-red coat with black stripes running on the front and back, skirt and thigh high boots a four pointed star was sewn into the red patch on the back of her coat currently billowing in the sea breeze. Guess when the beefcake is also the only meat on the menu, people are less generous to people who hogs it all. But seriously, Mom’s hitting her mid-forties already. She should leave the younger men to us. My mother and her new squeeze broke off their PDA as she sauntered over to the fuming redhead, placing a hand gently on the cheek of the girl. Surprisingly, the feisty looking redhead didn’t resist as Mom spoke huskily to her, causing her cheeks to flush like her hair.

“Miss me, Hilda?” I resisted the urge to bury my face despite the burning embarrassment I was feeling as Mom pulled the other girl in for a deep kiss, the arms of both of them exploring each other’s backs before Hilda pushed my mother away and gave her a resounding slap.

“Fuck you Ange! You don’t get to disappear into another world, raise a family and then return only when you fucking feel like it!” I could see the tear brimming on her blue eyes as Hilda’s body shivered, before she turned her back away from us. A pair of the girls- one with orange-red and the other with blue hair- tried to approach the sobbing redhead but a raised hand from my mother stopped them in their tracks. My mom actually looked nervous as she approached Hilda, gingerly placing her arms around the waist of the crying woman.

“Sorry, Hilda. It’s for the sake of the Norma future that I had to leave you so often. I promise to make it up to you.” The redhead turned around, giving another resounding smack to the other cheek of my mother. Mom took the blow in stride as she looked into the eyes of her-sigh- girlfriend, I guess.

“I want you, alone, for the next week.” Hilda muttered as Mom rubbed her back. I looked at the hunk Mom was exchanging tongues and saliva not too long ago, gauging his reaction. From his sanguine look, Mom really gets around. Our eyes met and I turned away, cheeks on fire. I felt his body heat and smelled his cologne, heart pumping before my excitement died as he rubbed my head paternally, laughing softly.

“Hey, kiddo. Missed me?” I blinked in confusion, certainly someone like him would leave a deep impression on me. He did look very familiar though but even as I racked my brains I couldn’t match his face to a name.

Well, there is one. But it’s impossible. My memories when I was barely five are blurry, but even then the images of him wasting away from the effects of the radioactive medicine used to treat his cancer was vivid in my mind. The man standing here was too young, too full of life and vigorous to be Daniel Hebert from the pictures of him back home. But, I dared to hope against hope.

“Dad?” I squeaked out hesitantly, afraid again it was a very lifelike illusion I was seeing. He nodded as Danny-Dad- hugged me tightly again. My eyes brimmed, before I felt Mom hug me from the other side and I felt smothered by both my parents squeezing me in between. It is a good feeling, since I never felt it before in my living memory. Most people take the feeling of diving into the sheets of their parent’s bed for granted. Everyone gathered went silent, save for the fluttering of clothes and the whispering of the wind and sea. I don’t care if its cliché, but it is a magical moment. If it’s a drug addled dream, then let me dream a bit longer.

Please.

Reality refused to play along, as the sound of clapping caught our attention. I glared at a redhead wearing a doctor’s white coat, a red blouse and black skirt who was smirking at me. Even the mole on her chin only added to the allure of her smoky beauty as I saw a cigarette dangling from her lips while she smirked at me. Her brown eyes turned towards my father-I have a father now! - as she folded her arms.

“Shouldn’t you be telling your daughter how the hell you came back from the dead? Mr Daniel “Tusk” Hebert?” The woman in the doctor’s coat then rubbed her blouse, causing me to reach for the same spot and noticed the holes that were not there previously. I frowned as I recognised them as bullet holes and turned to my parents for answers. They both had the decency to look awkward at least.

“You’re right, Dr Maggie.” Dad finally answered after the moment of silence. “Taylor, follow us please.”

My parents both patted my back at the same time, prompting me to follow them into the interior of the island base. I saw more personnel inside the cavernous structure, some dressed in a pale blue version of the uniform Hilda and the rest were wearing and others in bright orange jumpsuits. I even saw a few in Japanese like clothes that bared their arms, sprouting the pink dragon wings that escorted our ride.

We filed into a conference room, with Dad taking to the front of the room next to white board. Mom sat next to me, with the redhead doctor to my left. An Asian looking woman, sprouting wings and a golden draconic design tiara and wearing the same pink bare-armed kimono walked in followed by a woman with reptilian eyes and orange-red hair in a white bodysuit and coat. Dad cleared his throat to call to attention everyone in the room and we as one turned our gaze and attention to him.

“Thank you, ladies.” Dad looked straight at me, his face grim as he continued in a controlled tone.

“Taylor, what I’m going to tell you will sound incredible even for someone who have witnessed the madness that is parahumanity and their impact on the world. But after my words, go around Arzenal and you will find the truth of what I told you.” Another silent pause, before my Dad continued speaking.

“To start with, I will tell you how I nearly died due to the effects of years of delayed reaction to Dragonium radiation poisoning, the attempts to save my life by your mother and more importantly.” My father’s face got tighter as he gripped the side of the table he was resting his hands on, the knuckles straining from the effort.

“You will also learn how an accident involving the Ragnamail Vilkiss in the year 1980 killed off the family of a young Daniel Hebert and his parents.”

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Armsmaster looked over the horizon as the sound of an approaching PRT armoured truck alerted him to its approach. He was gladdened at the sight of Miss Militia alighting from the vehicle as they both went into the ruined ABB workshop. Armsmaster may have been the expert on Tinkertech, but when it comes to more mundane ballistics and explosives, Miss Militia had an expertise on them par none. The bandana clad hero cast her expert eyes over the assaulted garage, looking over the blast sights and the bullet holes. The heroine paid special attention to the ruined metal shutters, gesturing for her partner to take a look.

“The shutter looks like it got melted or was hit by a HEAT round from a tank, but I did not spot any track marks on the way over here.” Armsmaster looked over the blasted shutter door, now laid onto the floor that was slick with grease and bloodstains and took special note of the almost too clean hole made by whatever weapon was used to breach it. Going by the signs, the BBPD was correct to activate the PRT for help.

“Looks like Tinkertech was involved.” The leader of the Protectorate concluded. “Still unable to prove if it was unpowered mercs or the Tinker himself.”

“Herself. It was a she that did all this.”

Both heroes turned around to a shivering middle aged Asian man flanked by two BBPD officers, holding a phone in his hands. The man held the phone close to his chest, glancing nervously at the shadows. Miss Militia made the first move, walking over to the shivering witness gently and slowly. Fearful eyes focused on the bandana clade hero, his arms going white at the knuckles as he held tightly onto the phone.

“Protection. A new name, money and new address far away from this shithole of a city if I talk.” Both capes looked at each other, before Armsmaster nodded his assent. The assailant had not just fragged the place for survivors. The weapon used breach the door had short circuited all the cameras inside the workshop, rendering them useless.

“We can protect you and meet your requests, but you need to prove you have something that can be of use to us before we take you into witness protection, Mr…” The nervously ticking man pointed to the phone in his hands as his haunted eyes darted between Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

“Lau, I live a couple blocks away, facing this place with a great view. The Asian Bad Boyz summarily execute anyone found recording this place and confiscated all recording equipment from the tenants. But I manage to smuggle this phone in and use it for my own…purposes. After this fiasco today, they will be searching everyone living nearby. I can’t stay here no more.” Miss Militia’s eyebrows dropped slightly at the revelation, but peeping toms are less a concern for the Protectorate.

“Some blonde woman in a pink visor drove up to the front of the shop with a young girl lying out cold in the backseat and the guards just waved her in. That car she was driving belongs to Sanjit, some Indian who is one of their more promising pimps. Guy has a habit of having the merchandise delivered to the doorsteps.” The nervous man handed the phone over to Miss Militia, who placed it in a Ziploc bag while the man continued.

“Damn bitch started small, rolling a flashbang to hit the boys placed on guard detail. Then she went crazy like she was some Russian hitman and lobbed frag grenades on the blinded guards. She then blew open the door with some kind of Tinker rocket launcher, went in after she fragged the insides some more and then came out with some hovering bike thing I’ve seen the ABB tow in from somewhere. “

“Any idea how they came into possession of this? The ABB has no known Tinkers in their gang.” Lau shook his head at Armsmaster’s interruption, his shaking dying down.

“Naw, that flying bike isn’t from a Tinker belonging to the Bad Boyz. I heard from one of the mechanics working there someone parked that thing in the Docks and it had some kind of invisibility cloak or shit. Some of the guys drove drunk and hit his car on it. The bike survived, but the driver and car certainly didn’t.” The witness chuckled nervously, “Guess she came back for her lost property. After she retook her flying bike, one of the younger punks taking a piss near one of the alleys won a fucking Darwin award by threatening the woman with a girl he found in Sanjit’s car. Bitch just shot through the younger girl.”

Lau started to shake again, taking calming breathes before he continued.

“I lost my nerve after that. I hid under my bed with my phone near the window sill still recording but I think the footage was kinda shaky after that. But I’m pretty sure that some kinda whirlpool portal opened up and fucking pink dragons flew out of it. Fucking! Dragons!”

“Thank you Mr Lau. Please follow Corporal Blake to the PRT van. We will assist your entry into the programme back in PRT HQ.” As the police guided the shaking witness to the van, Miss Militia turned to her senior partner.

“Potential Master, Tinker and if the portal is accurate, Mover as well. Worst part is the penchant for escalation without proper cause.” Armsmaster cast another glance at the ruined room before heading back to his motorbike.

“I do not think that Lau was the only person who got too curious for his own good. The ABB will be going through every last person with the next ten blocks if they’ve seen anything. Unlike us, they’re less likely to be concerned about the validity of the testimony or evidence.” Miss Militia shared the worries of her partner and the ease with which this new cape had engaged in lethal force dug up many unpleasant memories for her. Considering that this block was on the edge of Empire and ABB turf…

Gang wars have started for less.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1x Interlude-Earth Bet.

///////////////////

I saw Mom who was seated next to my right shift uncomfortably at Dad’s mention of this accident. Considering her usual devil may care attitude to most things, the discomfort my mother was displaying was jarring. Both Hilda and that woman in the doctor’s coat Maggie were also grim faced at the mention of the incident. Dad looked over the gathered crowd in the room, before he pressed a remote control that dimmed the lights and a projector hanging from the rooftops powered up. Dad spoke into a microphone, his voice tight and controlled.

“Playing video clip Sierra Charlie Kilo Four: Opposed Dimensional Jump Experiment number 477 hex 57.” The other lights in the room went completely black and saw the screen started playing a camera footage that was crystal clear, shot from the top down. I saw a man in an armoured red-black pilot suit, leaning next to Mom inside the cockpit of some kind of enclosed, armoured motorbike except the bike was located inside the metal box. I wonder what’s going through the mind of the Tinker who made a bike that’s actually inside a box and makes the box move. Some kind of pale blue holographic screen played numbers, symbols and some kind of alphabet that I didn’t recognise along with English was between the handle bars of the bike. Mom, looking much younger, was herself was clothed in a pink white pilot suit that showed ample amounts of cleavage and I subconsciously reached for my own, feeling inadequate again. She was however wearing the same headset with the pink face covering visor and I can hear Mom berating the man about something. To be honest, I didn’t pay too much attention what she was yelling about since her speech was like a stream of consciousness diatribe almost drowned out by the roar of the engine. One sentence however did make it through the din and caught my attention though.

“Honestly, Tusk! Your sperm sample getting Salia pregnant on the first try as compared to me still not getting a bun in the oven when we had sex for three days and nights!” And it still feels weird hearing my Dad’s middle name though it pales in comparison of the mental image of my dad being the sperm donor of another one of mom’s possible girlfriends.

I was glad for the darkness that hid me, since it saved me the trouble of finding a hole to hide in from the embarrassment hearing the wave of amused laughter from the assembled staff. But seriously? Three days and nights? My parents are animals!

An alarm went off inside that cockpit and a smaller window appeared next to the holographic screen before the screen started to scroll rapidly with red text. Mom and Dad both stopped their lover’s tiff as I heard the roar intensify. Dad then went onto the bike behind Mom, strapping himself to the seat before I saw blazing white light peering in from the tiny slits of the metal cockpit. Mom pressed a button on the console and began to speak into a microphone that appeared. It was the same clipped professional tone she used when she sought permission to land and after seeing Mom being mostly devil may care on most matters, it drove home how much different Mom was when she’s on the job. Though what is the job is another question I hope this video would help me to understand.

“This is Ange of Norma Command. Beginning dimensional quantum breaching in three, two, and one!”

A flash of red light, as the holographic screen turned into a ruby red and the light outside the enclosed cockpit switched from white to red. Mom leaned forward in her seat, her face the portrait of professional detachment. Dad retracted the visor into helmet and I saw his clear blue eyes looking at Mom with concern.

“Engaging Michael mode. If any of the local wildlife tries to jump us, they’re in for a nasty surprise.” Mom spoke in a clipped tone to the microphone. The red glow outside the cockpit grew in intensity as I saw the footage shake, the vertigo I felt from viewing it made me feel like I was there. The numbers on the holographic screen continued to scroll down the holographic screen like a waterfall, before an alarm sounded again as Mom started pressing the buttons frantically.

“Proximity warning? And the external cameras are damaged by the breach!” Mom slammed her fist onto the console, “Vilkiss, you piece of junk! And you call yourself a world destroying machine!”

The ring on her hand glowed, and I saw more windows pop out as Mom gave a satisfied grin at her repair work. Seriously, self-repairing machines are something that most Tinkers will give their master hand and their firstborn invention for. I saw Mom and Dad both looking intently at the numbers that have ceased pouring down the screen, before both of them gave a satisfied nod.

“Atmosphere analysis is complete. Both air composition, gravity levels and radiation levels are safe for humans,” Mom said with satisfaction before she turned to Dad with a gentle smile on her face as she dismissed the visor. I felt a tinge of jealousy as my parents squeezed each other’s hands since Mom almost never showed me that kind of maternal gentleness she was showing so freely for Dad. “Maybe we can let you recuperate from the effects of long term dragonium exposure here in peace? Along with whatever kids we have in the future?”

Guess she used up all her nice girl points for her boyfriend. Mom then clicked her tongue in annoyance as she looked at another one of the smaller windows and her face paled before she pressed another button that caused the cockpit to open up. Grabbing a rifle each, my parents walked out of the cockpit and looked out of the machine they were in. Mom strained her neck for a better look at the scene outside of the craft they were in, before she sighed and turned to Dad.

“Honey, you know the estimated projection of this Earth being uninhabited by human life? Fucking bullshit!” Dad immediately brushed past her to take a look at the scene outside the cockpit, one I wasn’t able to see. I heard Dad mutter expletives off screen before he turned to Mom, apprehension clear on his face.

“Not much of a house left, but let’s try to see if there are any survivors alright Ange?”

////////////////////////

The projector turned off at that point and the lights in the room went on, causing my eyes to blink from the sudden change in lighting. A holographic screen then lit up on my desk, displaying some kind of bipedal robot, white with gold and blue trimmings and a red visor on the head. A figurehead of a winged woman made of silver was prominently displayed on the top of the head of this machine. Two white wings with blue ends on the bottom flared out like a bird of prey preparing to take flight and a massive sword was strapped to the back of the machine. I turned my attention to Dad who cleared his throat to get my attention.

“This is the Ragnamail that we were testing on that day, 10 December 1980 if we are going by the calendar of Earth Bet.” I flipped the screen and scrolled through the other pictures on display, most of them were of a wreck of wood and roofing tiles and what looks out a half torn barn, while the other pictures showed a two storey farm house and the barn restored. I also saw pictures of my parents retrieving some document from a safe that seemed to be melted through and I continued to scroll through the pictures until I froze at seeing a pair of severed feet in a pair of red sneakers. Mom must have noticed my face paling because she actually squeezed my shoulders silently, while Dad remained silent for a moment before he continued in that calm, lecturer’s tone.

“The pair of feet you saw in the file photos are what remains of Daniel Hebert, a native of upstate New York. He was ten at the time of death and the only one of the inhabitants of that home who had any remains left behind.” I snapped my head up and looked intently at my dad who called himself Daniel Hebert, demanding an explanation silently. My father obliged.

“We were at that time experimenting with the technology that the Demon of Heisenberg, the former scientist who calls himself Embryo left behind. One of the technologies were the ability to traverse dimensions and also alternate Earths.” I felt Mom’s grip on my shoulder tighten, prompting me to shake them off on instinct. Tightened grips from her never meant anything good. My mother’s eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened, but she did nothing more and continued to sit next to me, keeping her hands to herself.

“The projected scenario for what we now know as Earth Bet was that it was an uninhabited dimension where no intelligent life had developed. As it turns out, the prediction was wrong. We breached the dimensional barrier above the house of the Heberts, one Daniel Hebert and his parents, David Hebert and Ruth Allen Hebert.” I saw the pictures in my screen start flipping until it stopped at the same robot I saw earlier, now in a red glowing colour scheme.

“The AWCBX-007 Vilkiss, in the Michael mode, where a red hard light barrier surrounds the machine and makes it invulnerable to almost all known attacks, where solid matter, wave, particle or energy based. It also has a side effect of turning it into a shear that rips apart anything it touches.” I let the moment sink into me as I digested the revelation. My parents had engaged in a dimensional jumping experiment and it ended up killing off a family of innocents, before my dad decided to steal their identity. To be honest though, I found my lack of real revulsion at what my parents did more disturbing than the fact they had basically replaced a family like some deranged band of serial killers.

“Why?” My father was about to speak before the mic was cut and I saw the redhead doctor and the strange woman with the orange hair and lizard eyes walk to the whiteboard. Dad seemed to understand what’s going on, unlike me as he made way for the pair. Under the bright lights of the room, I noticed that the lizard eyed woman had a bald patch under her hair and her eyes were almost bulging out like the eyes of an iguana.

“Allow me to answer that question, young Taylor. As you’ve probably deduced from your parents conversation with me, I am Maggie, chief physician of the Arzenal Norma. I will answer your undoubtedly burning question on what the hell are the Norma and why this island seems to be women’s only, your fine specimen of a dad notwithstanding.”

I found it troubling that I actually laughed along with the others in the room at the joke made by Maggie, despite learning of what had happened. At what point do I stop blaming my parents and start thinking there’s something wrong with me? On second thought, forget about thinking what’s wrong with me. That would be a lot of introspection. I will just file this under the “Things To Blame Mom For” category while I shot my mom a dirty look. I was soon drawn back to the white board by the squeak of markers as the doctor began drawing a human diagram and several graphs that I didn’t really comprehend.

“Please ignore the diagrams, graphs and the human anatomy I’ve drawn here. They’re just to get your flighty teenager attention and to get my own thoughts in order.” The redhead shot me a grin at my annoyance as she continued. “Your parents had experimented with dimensional jumping partially because of your father’s body reacting badly to dragonium radiation that’s everywhere in this world, as in he’s slowly dying badly and we needed a new world to inhabit.” Another flipping of the photos on my screen and this time it landed on a document with my name on it.

“The other reason would be yourself. After your parents found out you were conceived, they realised if you’re going to remain somewhat human rather than undergoing DRAGON augmentation like the Aura Peoples we had to find a world similar to the old Earth where your father hailed from. “Well, there’s some glaring mistakes in the dates here. I raised a hand to get the attention of the room.

“The experiment started only in 1980. I was born in 1995.” Both Maggie and the lizard eyed woman cracked smiles at my question, and the picture of my file zoomed into the details of my birth.

“Your parents actually conceived you a few weeks before this experiment. You were extracted from your mother’s womb while you were only three weeks past conception, than kept in a time loop while we worked on your gene splicing. It took us fifteen years before we managed to recreate Embryo’s genetics and quantum technology and augmented you with it.” I glared at Mom, who was apparently the one who approved me being some kind of science experiment. “It was that or you ended up a DRAGON like my partner Gecko here,” Lizard Eyes waved at her introduction, “Your mom was adamant that the first generation of Norma would be as close to human as possible, and surprisingly most of the DRAGON wanted you to be human mostly as well. Sadly, we weren’t able to get make the augmentation work after you were born, and we had to keep you on Earth Bet so that dragonium poisoning won’t kill you before the changes we made to your genes will make it safe for you to stay here.”

“Fair enough,” I accepted grudgingly their explanations that I was born of parents from some radioactive draconic utopia, but then pointed a finger at my seated father. “What about him?” Dad winced and was about to stand up to speak before Mom halted him with a wave and turned to face me, taking a chair and seating right in front of me, face to face. Finally, Mom is going to confront me.

“Despite migrating to Earth Bet, the dragonium had done its work on your father. By the time you were four, Tusk was dying of cancer, just not the type doctors in Earth Bet were expecting.” Mom gave me a hard glare which I returned, “I had to grave rob my own husband’s tomb to bring his body back to Arzenal where they put him in cryostatis, frozen like a popsicle until the tech was ready to bring him back.” More holographic screen appeared around me, each showing a different room in our house in Brockton Bay.

“Despite jumping dimensions regularly, running a growing nation and sometimes doing dangerous wetwork so I had money to keep you from the streets and the authorities off my back, I never really left you alone. How did you think every time we met I knew what to train you in?” Mom’s explanation only made me feel disgust at her attempting to handwave away the years she left me alone.

Sorry Mom, if you think some sob story is going to get me to forgive you for the treatment you gave me most of my life.

“When I needed a mother, I got a drill instructor.” I hissed out bitterly. Mom actually looked stricken at my reaction, but I figured it was good that she learns exactly how I feel about how she treated me. A silent moment where we exchanged stares, before I shrugged and walked out of the room, ignoring my mother’s shouts for me to stop. I was curious to learn more about this new world, the jargon I’ve heard today and also where the fuck those bullet holes came from, but I felt some form of vindication at one-upping Mom in her treatment of me.

After all, not like she ever stopped for me before. Let her have some of that tough love she likes so much.

///////////////

I felt several pairs of eyes on me as I walked aimlessly within this cavernous facility. The corridors were a uniform shade of olive green walls, undecorated stone roofs with utilitarian doors that more resembled cell doors. The exits and entrances of one path to the other blurred as I found myself walking into yet another identical set of green walls and stone roofs. I suppose I could wander around the place some more or even knock on one of the rooms to ask for directions, but considering the glares I felt sizing me up I doubted things will be quite so simple. From my peripheral vision I saw a young woman, probably slightly older than me walk towards me as I ended up in some kind of hall where powder blue moveable walls like the ones used to set up cubicles in an office blocked off the rocky surface of the cliff this place was built into. The approaching woman had short blonde hair tinged with some red, slight freckles and a sly look that raised alarm bells. Dressed in the same strapped red shouldered strapped uniforms that Mom’s girlfriend wore, she instantly ticked me off as she reminded me of a buffer Emma. Other than Ms Friendly approaching me, I saw other girls, some around my age, others older dressed in a sky blue version of the uniform browsing around merchandise being displayed in racks around the place.

I resisted the urge to punch her even as Emma-Two invaded my personal space, her blue eyes gazing up and down me before focusing on the bullet hole on my shirt. She tsked as she fixed me with a glare, and the urge to deck her increased tremendously. Not-Emma spoke with a smarmy tone, one that raised my hackles and got my hands clenching into fists. To complete the setup, two other girls hung behind her, a brunette with orange tints and a mole on her chin, sharp features and a look that hinted she’s not the sharpest knife in the webbing and another girl with silver-blue hair, wide eyes and a reserved demeanour that reminds me of a scavenger riding on the belly of a shark. All three of them were dressed in a similar fashion, complete with a holstered pistol above their skirt.

Guess this place isn’t called Arzenal for nothing. Everyone here’s packing some kind of heat. I growled as the Emma clone put out her hand for a shake.

“Hi, I’m Claudia!” The bright, faux-friendly tenor of her voice got me reaching for my holstered gun, causing her two hanger-on to reach for their own sidearm. Not-Emma, or Claudia however remained unfazed despite my fingers resting on my holster inside my jacket. Her right hand remained stretched out, until I slapped it away. This got her two lackeys stepping forward before Claudia halted them with a raised hand.

Good doggies! Obey your mistress like good little whipped bitches.

“You really got the worst of Mama Ange’s genes, didn’t you?” Claudia hissed as she got within inches to my face, faux cheeriness disappearing as her eyes bore at me with contempt. Well, fuck you too my apparently unwanted bastard sister. “Can’t believe you’re my older half-sister. Must be all that genes from that whipped beta Tusk.” I felt something snap as the insult against Dad struck home. “I’m glad I only got superior stock from Mama Ange and Hilda.”

The sound of fist hitting face never sounded as satisfying as it did when my knuckles found Claudia’s cheeks, making her stumble backwards. Another crucial difference from Emma, she didn’t crumple into a crying heap but glared at me with a mix of hatred and glee like Sophia does when she jumps me in the corridor and we have mutual accidents that sends both of us into the infirmary.

Unlike Winslow, my punching of another student? Trainee? Whatever the girls here are, violence does have swift, immediate consequences when conducted openly. As Claudia’s two bitches drew out their sidearms, whistles blew as several women dressed in camo green shirts, helmets bearing that golden diamond sign, and flak jackets burst out from the crowd of gathering girls bearing long batons with arcs of electricity cracking menacingly and some kind of red energy shield. All four of us were tackled from behind, cuffed and I felt myself pressed against the floor as I heard three more bodies hitting the floor next to me.

Well at least they’re indiscriminate in punishing those involved in the violence.

Heavy footsteps prompted me to look up from having my head pressed into the ground, with the hand that was doing the pressing obligingly letting me do so. A tanned woman with a scar below her left eye glared down at us, her arms folded in annoyance.

“Claudia, Trish and Millia, You girls again” The girls gave sheepish grins as their names were called in order. “Hi Captain Scar, on guard detail again. Did you mess up at the simulator tests again?” The older woman cocked her head at the brunette’s cheek, before the guard holding her slammed her face into the ground, eliciting a yelp of pain. Yeah, definitely not a sharp one.

The scarred woman then tilted her head towards me, meeting my glare with her own.

“You’re Taylor, Commander Ange’s girl aren’t you?” I snorted at her question and remained silent. Not that it’s a secret by this point. Mom probably told everyone here in this place about it by now.

“Punching out one of your sisters on the first day. You’re a piece of work just like your old lady.” I hissed in pain as Scar grabbed my hair and looked into my eyes. “Well, you’re not getting any special favours just because your Mom runs the place. Into the cells with you lot. Maybe sharing a nice cramped cell with your half-sister can make you hash out any issues you might have.”

Lady, I’m more likely to commit fratricide, I thought as I was hauled up and marched to wherever their time out room was.

“

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1x Interlude-Earth Bet.

//////////

Alan Barnes looked at the Hebert house with trepidation, before he decided to risk it and pushed open the fence gingerly. He heaved a sigh of relief as the white painted door opened without setting off any kind of traps or worse- mines. At least, he never heard of Ange using actual mines before. Just some improvised ones that shot fireworks instead of ball bearings. Doesn’t make them any less painful when a Roman candle goes off in your face though.

The redheaded lawyer walked a zigzag path to the front door, taking care to avoid the booby-trapped first step. Making sure to step in the light cast by the automatic lamp on the veranda, he waited for a moment in case someone inside is watching before going to the door.

“Taylor? It’s me, Alan. Are you home?” He followed his loud calling with several knocks on the door and considered calling Taylor’s phone again. But after calling her phone seven times within an hour had left him with a feeling sense of dread that something had happened to his charge. He didn’t particularly like the young Hebert, but she was pleasant enough when Zoe was looking after her or playing with Emma. The lawyer was proud of his daughter for actually managing to reach out to the moody girl, an accomplishment in itself. Then she had to screw it all up by antagonizing Taylor by doing…well whatever it was it got his daughter a broken nose. Small blessings considering the target.

“Ange’s going to kill me.” The divorce attorney muttered while rubbing off a sheen of cold sweat from his face. He never really got why his high school and college buddy Danny ever decided to marry Ange of all people. He knew the blonde was his sweetheart that he brought back after meeting her when doing some shady stuff in Colombia prior to college, but hot as Ange Missouri was, the woman was unhinged! Not to mention shady as shit, considering how much she pays him to look after her when she’s missing for long spells of time. After Danny died, there was no one left to hold her back. The aftermath and bizarre resolution of the incidents with Emma and later with the Clements girl had left him convinced that pissing off Ange was as bad as getting targeted by one of the parahuman gangs. Emma however believed that her friendship with the Ward Shadow Stalker will protect her.

Alan snorted in derision at his girl’s naivety. The unwritten rules only applied to capes and their families. And Ange was never one to give any fucks about rules in general. She restrained herself for the sake of her daughter and kept her nose mostly clean when it comes to her behaviour in the US and wreaked havoc only away from North America, but the lawyer was certain the widow of his friend was not above doing somethings in costume.

Turning away from the door and carefully going back the same path he took through the lawn, he whipped out his phone and dialled the number of his daughter. Alan prayed fervently that Emma wasn’t feeling particularly stupid today.

“Hi Dad!” Hmm, his girl was certainly in a cheery mood, going by the loud music and cheering girls in the background.

“Emma, where’s Taylor?” He could hear his daughter’s smile disappear when he mentioned the name of her former friend. “I have no idea, Dad. Isn’t watching after Miss Doom and Gloom your job?”

The older Barnes pulled the phone away from his face as he let loose with a particularly inventive expletive, before he spoke into his phone again.

“Emma, where’s Taylor? You can answer now and we can let this slide with only a grounding of two weeks and half allowance for a month, or we can go to the police.” Better the police or even the PRT take his daughter in case Taylor triggers instead of Ange working her particular brand of vengeance on her.

“What the f…fine!” Alan heard his own daughter yelling at her friends how much of a yellow bastard her dad was. Better a live yellow bastard’s daughter then some the scion of some dead hero.

“She’s tied up and tranquilized in the school dumpster. Now go get her before big scary Ange gets you!” Alan sighed as the line went dead, rubbing his tired eyes as he went into his car and began the drive to Winslow.

The Barnes patriarch was never particularly religious but if he was he’d ask why God was making it his personal agenda to shit on him using Ange as the asshole.

//////////

Tattletale looked at the blonde woman that Coil had told her she’d be working with more often moving forward. The other party had offered to meet at one of her employer’s hideouts, this one being the lobby of a disused shipping company. Her powers revealed something disturbing of the woman in the expensive suit and sunglasses seated across her on a foldable chair. And it wasn’t the bulge of the guns she had holstered under her jacket either as Tattletale helped herself to the tea offered to her in a cup and saucer.

“Carries herself like ex-military. Sense of sophistication and eye for expensive treats and luxury. Novae rich? No, has sense of aesthetics that hint of old money. Fell from grace and entered hard times after enjoying a life of luxury. Leads group of mercs who are seasoned and competent professionals. Likely has Tinkertech and other tricks up their sleeves rather than restrained to mundane tech and equipment.” Tattletale cut her power as she realised it was going off a tangent. That her obviously lily white prospective partner had a Japanese last name like Misurugi and Western first name didn’t add to her portfolio of useful info on a potential ally or threat when she makes the move on Coil.

“Had fun cold reading me, Miss Tattletale?” Hmm, so Coil is placing enough importance on her to give info on my powers. Another reason to kill him.

“Oh yes, Your Highness!” Tattletale said in a particularly cloying sweet tone, enjoying the slight stiffening of the blonde woman’s shoulders. “Older siblings can be such a hassle.”

A hit and a homerun! Cold reading even without using her powers can be really fun. Tattletale couldn’t help the vulpine grin on her face, even as she noticed Sylvia’s bodyguards’ language become openly hostile as they holstered their rifles. Grue and Bitch both prepped for trouble as the dogs began to growl. One of the mercs standing next to Sylvia, a slender woman with long, dark and curly hair put out her palms at the dogs, and before they could react three pyramids of green hard light had trapped the dogs within. Snarling, the powered canines attempted to smash open the barriers, but they held firm even as they grew into the size of an SUV made of muscle, horns and teeth.

“Bitch, stand down.” Grue ordered as his darkness swirled around him. The dog masked villain looked ready to jump their prospective partners right there and then, but in the end she depowered the dogs. As the three dogs began to shrink in size, the blonde merc leader seated opposite her looked over her shades at her bodyguard, blue eyes twinkling with triumph.

“Ms Rose, please remove the Light of Mana from the doggies?” Tattletale took the opportunity to turn on her power and studied the silent sentinel.

“In her mid-forties, history of entanglement with radical groups and parahuman extremists, fanatically devoted to her cause. Source of powers are external. Recharge via Tinker methods are needed? Source of power from her employer?” Tattletale turned off her power as she felt the beginning of a Thinker headache. The secrets behind that Light of Mana strained her power in a way few things can. Sylvia leant back in her seat and raised a finger, causing that green light to move several sugar cubes into Tattletale’s tea cup. As the light started to stir the cup with her spoon loudly, the merc leader gave a vicious smile.

“Allow me to introduce myself and my assistant. She is Annette Rose, formerly of Lustrum.” The suited woman stood up and gave a slight bow as the teaspoon removed itself from the masked villain’s cup.

“I am Sylvia Ikagura Misurugi. We are the People of Manna. A pleasure to meet you.”

///////////

A/N: No, Manna is not a typo.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.5 Mom

///////////////////

Ange

//////////////////

I laid back against the backrest of my chair as I turned to face the flag that hung on the wall to the back of my desk. It never fails to make me crack a wry smile, this banner of Arzenal. A plain green background with a sword running through a coiled dragon proudly displayed, I appreciated the irony of keeping this particular symbol of my people even as we became sister peoples with the people of Aura.

That it got the more uptight members of the ruling Auric Priestesses in a tizzy was a very welcome bonus. I looked down on my Commander’s uniform, a white sleeveless blouse, grey skirt and white knee-length boots. A mantle, white on the outside and red on the inside was held together with a chain of gold crafted into diamond shapes. For a despised underclass, the Mana humans were very generous in supplying us with material support to keep us fighting. But I suppose even those dragonium addled addicts were pragmatic enough to realise the Norma served a necessary function in their false utopia. I glanced at the mountain of paper work that awaited my perusal on my desk, dread forming in the pit of my stomach. I briefly considered having Emma Bronson deal with the pile, considering that over the years she spent living with us the former supervisor had developed a knack for administration work. But I decided against it ultimately, feeling a sense of guilt over neglecting my work. I was going over the reports of our scout teams back on the Mana Earth’s report of missing dragonium deposits when a sharp rapping against my office door got my attention.

“Come in.” I said without lifting my head, still buried in my paperwork. Heavy footsteps caught my attention, making me lift my head as I heard the creaking of the heavy wooden door being pushed open. I squinted my eyes at the unfamiliar, but oh so nostalgic scarred tanned Norma with hip length brown hair, before the grinds clicked and I matched a name to the face wearing the green uniform of the Arzenal guards.

“Scar! You’re the Captain of the Fourth Squadron Scar!” I grinned as I gestured for her to take a seat opposite me. The tanned Norma grimaced as I spoke her name even as she took a seat and removed her hat.

“My name’s not S….you know what, Ma’am? Never mind. No one remembers my name anyway. “The stout Norma took her seat and handed over a file which I took, brushing aside the crumbs on the cover. The bread remains brought a smile to my face, reminding me the first time she entered my radar when she pounded Rosalie and Chris after a failed attempt to spill food on me ended up on her instead.

“You’re on guard detail today, Scar?” I mentioned in an attempt to break the ice, but that remark caused Scar to grimace. “Don’t mention it, Ma’am. Lost a bet to Mary of the Third Squadron.”

I hummed in response as I gazed over the end of detail report from Scar, my eyes narrowing as I saw two familiar names among those thrown into the detention cells. Taylor Angel Hebert and Claudia Schlievogt Misurugi. My jovial mood evaporated as I pieced together the likely reason for the two of these names to appear on the same page. I waved a finger over my desk, prompting a hologram with Tusk’s face to appear. The splotch of machine oil made me feel a tinge of nostalgia at my husband working on his hobbies, likely tuning up the Mails but I got down to business.

“Where’s Vivian? I told her to watch over Taylor.” My husband wiped away the oil from his face as he looked at me, a sheen of sweat visible on his face. Watching his perspiration made me feel the balmy heat as well. Arzenal always seemed to end up in a tropical location no matter where she was moved to.

“Her mother Lamia paid us a visit tagging along with Salamandinay. They both were last seen flying in their DRAGON forms around the airspace.” Well, that’ll teach me to ask Vivian to watch over a surly teen. I thanked my husband and dismissed the screen before turning my attention to the patiently waiting Scar. If only I had more people like her, then things would be much easier.

Well, there’s Salia, but she’s a real stick up her ass type. Getting her to watch over Taylor would have her reacting like I did. Not well. Lucky her kid Medea is as competent while not half as uptight as she is.

“So Cadets Taylor and Claudia are kept in the same cell?” Scar nodded and brought up a screen that showed both my girls in a cell, glaring at each other while sitting on their beds. I saw two guards dressed in full gear with energy shield and shock baton at the ready. I gave a hum of appreciation at the thoroughness of Scar and made a note to thank her properly. Maybe an extended holiday to the DRAGON settlements, or even a matchmaking session with the many willing DRAGON girls who are interested in us Norma? Scar’s face shone with professional pride at her work as she pointed to the guards on standby.

“I had the girls standby in full gear with orders to intervene if any of the inmates were to cross the line I had drawn between them inside the cell.” My eyes followed a spray painted red line that cut the already cramped cell in two. “The only blows they’d be throwing at each other will be strictly verbal.”

Well, at least the two won’t be committing fratricide anytime soon. I prepared to visit my spawn over in the cells before Scar asked me to wait.

“Ma’am, permission to speak.” I turned away from the door and motioned for her to speak. “Ma’am, with due respect,” Ah, that phrase when telling a superior anything they’ve done goofed. “I believe having your presence there would only inflame any lingering antagonism the two cadets have for each other.”

And of course Scar is discreet enough to avoid mentioning any hard feelings they’d have over Mommy. Well, Taylor would have plenty of hard feelings. Claudia would have feelings of a completely different kind, mostly along the lines of very unhealthy hero worship. Most of the Norma and even some of the DRAGON think of me as some kind of saviour, but whenever I get a rare chance to spend some time alone with her, Claudia’s fixation on me goes way, way over mere hero worship into something creepy.

“Thank you, Scar. You’re free to go!” The tanned Norma nodded and snapped a brief salute before leaving me to stew over my failures as a parent. I pondered over my next step before deciding to seek help from someone I’ve relied on my entire life for such matters. I turned on the screen again, cracking a smile as I saw a dark haired, bright eyed woman in a wonderfully kept frilly white uniform and apron.

“Momoka, I have a favour to ask of you.”

////////////

Those guards were honest when they said the cell was cramped. One wooden plank on each side of the wall about a foot and half wide with a bed sheet and a thin pillow, bare grey walls and iron barred windows starring into the sky. The Emma clone Claudia laid on her bed slash plank with her back facing me. At least the facility is sanitary though, which is more than I can say for Mom’s room when she bothers to show up. Funny how she cleans up the rest of the home when I’m not around though, but I put it down as one of her eccentrics along with the singing and the ability to act like a functional human being once in a while.

I looked sideways at the guards watching the both of us fully equipped to deliver a beatdown if needed. My redheaded stepchild of a sister’s two remora were hauled off somewhere for their share of discipline, meaning Lil’ Sis isn’t getting any backup if the guards slacken their watch and we can finish what I started. But that Scar woman was correct that having to share a cramped cell with a surprise sister had hashed out the issues between us. We both realise we loathe one another without having to speak and have reached a mutual understanding to enter an arms races of seeing who can have the other meet an accident first. The foaming seas and rocky shoreline sure look mighty deadly.

Damn it feels weird to think of an obviously older girl as my younger sister.

Voices travelled down from the distant corridor, followed by the squeal of iron hinges opening a heavy gate. I turned from glaring a hole into the bare-backed top that Claudia wore beneath her jacket, watching as the shadows cast by two approaching figures get larger on the floor outside the room. Both guards stationed outside my room snapped to attention, their batons presented in attention to the approaching duo. One of them was the redhead girlfriend that Mom didn’t introduce properly to me- Hilde or something like that. The other was a smaller Asian woman, or girl. Her petite frame makes it hard for me to tell, considering her short, dark bruise coloured hair. Yeah, the people in this place have some weird hair colours when one of them have colour that resembles a bruise-all black and blue.

The redhead’s arrival jolted the Emma clone out of her plank bed, as she gave a disgustingly bright smile at the appearance of my mom’s girlfriend. Hmm, I can kind of see the family resemblance here. Well, now that I’ve had a closer look and comparison, Claudia is a lot prettier than Emma actually is, not to mention her body’s more muscled than Sophia. Probably due to all that combat training and the few years of development she has over Hess. Based on our mutual first impression though, she’s as much if not more of a bitch as Emma was, but unlike her Claudia can take a punch like Sophia. All in all, a nasty overall package.

“Mama Hilda!” My cellmate and hopeful future murder victim squeaked out a cheery greeting to her mom in a sweet tone that made me gag. To her credit, Mom’s squeeze glared at her kid, not seemingly buying the innocent act. Arms folded in annoyance, I saw the redhead bear down on Claudia, who kept her innocent act going.

“Trish and Millia spilled the beans, Claudia. I guess Rosalie and Chris taught their girls who’s on top since they started to sing before I really applied the third degree on ‘em.” The face of an angel was replaced with the scowl of a scorned bully as Claudia realised her two suckerfish had quailed in front of a large predator than herself.

“Seriously, shit talking Tusk of all people. He’s kind of a goof most of the time, but that horny bastard’s survived shit I doubt I would be able to walk away from.” The redhead shushed her kid by placing a finger on her lips when Claudia tried to speak. The younger girl’s face was twisted into an ugly snarl, but she gave a mocking salute and went back to moping on her plank bed. Hilda’s face softened, as a melancholic look evident as she looked at the muscled back of her child.

“Sorry Claudia. But I can’t bail you out of this one. We’ll talk later at home once you’re released tomorrow evening. Sad blue eyes turned judging as she locked her gaze upon me, and I stood up to my full height not wanting to be stared down by her. Her eyes focused on the mysterious bullet hole in my chest, before she looked at my face, causing my ire to rise at her probing, predatory eyes. Her cheeks widened as a cocky grin cracked open her face, her licking tongue on her full lips making me shiver. If only the guards haven’t removed the handgun Mom gave me.

“Piss off you paedophile bulldyke! Go eat out Mom’s carpet if you’re feeling horny.” Her eyes and mouth both widened in shock, before Hilda bent over laughing. Wiping tears from her eyes, the older woman looked at me again, this time without the barely concealed stripping of me with her eyes. Why is it the first person I remember looking at me like this is a lesbian at least three decades my senior? I mean she’s hot and all, but I’m not really into girls.

Well there’s Greg Vader, but he doesn’t count.

“God, you’re really the princess’s kid.” Hilda kept chuckling while she started to catch her breath from the laughing fit. “Sure you’ve never taken lessons in swearing from Chris?” I looked at her, annoyed at the private joke that she’s not sharing with me. Well, I’m actually more annoyed that I’m locked up in a strange place where Mom apparently keeps her bisexual harem. Hilda nodded, before she turned back to her kid and said some pleasantries that I’ve since tuned out as I focused on the other woman with her. The petite Asian woman with the bruise colour hair, lace white headpiece, white frilly blouse, blue full length skirt, pristine, well ironed apron with zero wrinkles and detachable white sleeves. I smelled a faint whiff of perfume as the Asian woman smiled pleasantly at me and I felt my heart being set at ease. An end to the conversation between Hilda and Claudia caused me to refocus on them and I saw Hilda gesture to the two guards watching us.

“Both of you, follow me. Momoka here’s more than enough to keep this two brats from killing one another.” I strongly disagreed as I watched the two guards follow Hilda out of the corridor leading to my cell, but the whiff of alluring aroma from the wicker basket she carried quickly dispelled any notions of taking the opportunity to lump Claudia for that insult against Dad. I suddenly remembered I haven’t had anything to eat for god knows how long. Claudia was thinking along the same lines as I was as she looked hungrily at the basket. The Asian woman giggled lightly and began distributing loaves of bread and plastic bottles of water to both of us. I greedily bit into the confectionary, barely noting the array of flavours of sour, savoury and sweet baked into it. I choked on a third loaf that I grabbed from the pleasant woman and noticed the hint of lemon and a slight tangy sweetness from the ice cold water in the bottle which I chugged down.

I burped in satisfaction, prompting a sharp look of disapproval from the prissy princess Claudia that encouraged me to give a particularly loud, draggy one. “Waste of good genes.” Claudia stage whispered even as the food lady gave a quite laugh, her mouth hidden behind a pair of perfectly manicured hands. For someone who’s apparently good at cooking, her hands are really smooth.

“Lady Claudia,” the woman bowed towards my cellmate who nodded with a smile in return. The smile seemed almost genuine, so this woman must be some kind of saint to have her showing respect to.

“Lady Taylor,” I felt really awkward as the bruise haired girl paid me the same courtesy, “I am Momoka, chief maid to your mother Angelise Ikagura Misurugi. By order of your mother, I have been tasked to resume assisting you in your daily needs.”

“Mama Ange did what?!” Both Momoka and I turned to look at Claudia’s outburst. She pointed a finger at me, her face flushed with anger and her hands trembling to contain herself. “What did this over muscular stick insect do to warrant the attention of the saviour of Norma’s personal maid?!” Momoka gave both of us a blank look, cocking her head.

“What seems to be the problem here? Lady Angelise has arranged for the both of you to be roomed together while you undergo simulator and Iaria training.” My redhead sister seemed to calm down at the mention of training on some kind of simulator and I guess is probably a sport as she shot me a smug look. Smarmy bitch.

“I see. Mama Ange wishes to tell which of us the rightful successor to her legacy is.” The maid gave another confused stare at Claudia as she started to pack up the empty bottles with some kind of green light while also wiping our mouths with some wet napkins. I noted idly that the light was just away from skin contact with us. Perhaps the light is deadly?

“Lady Claudia?” Momoka hesitated as she spoke to us.

“Lady Angelise has dicated that both of you are to undergo the Iaria and simulator training as a paired unit. If one of you fail, both of you fail.”

I laughed when my half-sister grabbed her right fist in pain when she punched the metal bars of the cell.

//////////

A/N: Probably one more scene in the detention cell, then some mecha action! Also Chris has some very creative swearing.

Heh, whoregoblin.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.6 Mom.

/////////////////x/////////

I saw it again, that golden vision of her back.

Mom walking ahead effortlessly, carrying a full load of camping equipment and a whole array of firearms in a bulging duffle bag when we went hiking. The distance she kept from me is always seventy-seven steps away. Always at a steady stride, rapid and unyielding as she walked ahead of me while the sun cast her rays on my mother and the light danced amongst the golden strands of her windblown hair held together with a simple blue bow. The only time I ever saw a moment of weakness from her was when Dad died while I was little, when she broke down in the arm of Dad’s old buddy Alan. The glances I ever saw of her after that moment of emotion and humanity was the soldier lacking a war living on the knife’s edge, bored to tears in a time of peace. The manic energy that animated her movements, as if driven by a flame in her heart that compelled her to never sit still, as if she would drown like how a shark would drown if not constantly moving. It showed whenever we were walking together. When we did anything together.

On those precious few moments when we actually were together, when we walked in the wilds outside of town as if there was no one else left in the world, Mom was still distant. Ever forward, just barely enough distance so she can turn back and spur me on if needed, carry me if I could go no longer. I clung to her when she carried me after I could move no more, my arms grasping on her neck and fingers digging into flesh. I greedily took in the scent of her sweat mixed with the hint of shampoo on her hair when she carried me, basking in the strength of her arms and listening intently to the beating of her heart.

Of course, good things didn’t last since it didn’t take her too long to find out that I would wear myself out on purpose just so she can carry me again. Mom began to pace herself, slowing down so I didn’t wear out so easily. My mother would stay that same distance of double seven if she saw me stopping. We would play the waiting game, long after my strength had recovered I still sat there in the dirt and rock of the mountain trail. It always ended with me breaking, standing up and brushing off my dust to follow her back once again. To chase the back that never turned

Then one day, the golden vision turned.

The sky went from clear blue in the afternoon till tea brown tinged with red at twilight, when I again played the waiting game with my mother. Then my mother Ange began to walk more steps away from me widening the distance. Seventy-seven. Seven eight. Seven nine. I watched as the numbers went up while the golden vision of her back left me, her hair strands almost blending in with the dying light while her towering figure distanced from me.

I broke and ran, leaving my own bag as I raced for her.

I made three steps before she swept me up in a hug of her own when she closed the distance in a mere moment. A strong hand held my head firmly on her shoulder as she refused to let me see her face. I felt her chest heaving from the exertion while she took in deep gulps of air, choking occasionally. I saw the olive green duffle bag left in the dust, a long shadow cast by the dying light.

Mama carried me down the mountain that night as I fell asleep in her arms. I refused to leave her side for three days after that, holding onto her hand even as I fell asleep on my bed. Two mornings I awoke and found her there, seated outside my room looking in. She lulled me into sleep always with that song. I didn’t understand the lyrics, but these words stuck in my head. It was the first time that I’ve heard it sung to me before, her singing voice following me into my sleep.

Ima futatsu no negai wa
Tsuyoku... Tsuyoku
Ten no konjiki to kirameku

I dreamt of her hair that resembled stalks of wheat awaiting harvest, swaying in the afternoon sun flowing down her back. My own strands of brown and black hung just above my vision as my hands reached out to her when I ran before she turned to face me, her face covered by a blinding light. Twice I awoke, with my arms outstretched towards the roof and saw my mother sitting outside my room, legs crossed her ruby eyes closed. Twice, she will arouse and close the distance to my bed when my feet touches the floor.

Twice since Dad died, I woke to my mother waiting for me.

Then on the third morning, she was gone. I traced a hundred steps from where she was seated before I gave up on her. I sang the only words I remembered to that song till my throat was hoarse and Alan told me to stop. When we met three months later on my tenth birthday, we both never mentioned that walk on the golden sun drenched path again. I didn’t want to remember that day again. It taunted me with what I had gained and lost.

So why am I remembering that shining day now that I see my mother seated outside my cell, her eyes closed with her legs crossed?

///////////x//////////////

I felt my t-shirt with the hole in the front and back stick to me as my mind returned to reality, roused from sleep by the stifling humidity and heat. Even the worse dog days of summer in Brockton didn’t conjure in my mind the unholy spawn of a steamer and oven cooking me alive as the oppressive heat did now. Such a massive difference from the roaring sea wind and breeze of the more open areas of Arzenal. I raised my head from the jacket I used as a pillow, my nose wrinkling at the sour smell of Claudia and my own sweat, while the taste of the lemon water and bread lingered in my mouth. I sat up on the plank bed, looking sideways at Mom as she sat outside the cell, the guards nowhere to be seen. It was still dark out and Mom’s seated frame cast a shadow into the light that filtered in via the bars from the corridor.

Mother looked imposing in that uniform of hers. White cape with a red interior, gold chain formed into lines of diamonds, and that white blouse, grey skirt and white boots with black stripes ensemble made me think of the times when I imagined my mother as a hero making the world a better place rather than a mercenary who worked for those shady figures who paid the best coin.

At least now I know she probably didn’t really need the money, though how this island fortress actually on a barren rock produced anything is beyond me. Claudia awoke at this time as I was looking at the seated, slumbering figure of our mother. Blue eyes locked onto me as my cellmate once again sized me up, before she spotted Mom’s slumbering figure and focused her attention on her. Claudia’s fingers started to slide into the top of her skirt, raising alarm bells in my head as images of a rather private activity played through my head before I saw her pull out a finger sized figurine from a hidden pocket in the interior of her skirt. Heaving a sigh of relief I wasn’t going to see a side of my half-sister I was totally not wanting to see ever, I spied using the light shining in from the corridor the details of the doll. Blonde hair down to the lower back, white cape and white uniform with black stripes. A haze of red over the eyes. Claudia began to rub her left cheek with the doll, looking at Mom with a worshipful look in her eyes.

“Mama Ange…” she cooed while her eyes glazed over in bliss. I shivered as I tried to tune her out, thankful she wasn’t making any sounds while she experienced an almost religious ecstasy in the presence of Mom. Our mother stirred and the doll promptly disappeared as Claudia sat up straight on her bed, straightening the edges of her clothes. She even went as far as to put on her jacket over the sleeveless blouse she was wearing before Mom’s eyes snapped open. Stretching as she got up, Mom stifled a yawn as she looked at the both of us, walking to the bars of our cell. Claudia immediately rose to her feet, performing a crisp salute while I remained seated and indifferent.

“Commander. It is good to see you again.” I could almost feel my eyes roll out of their sockets from the workout I was giving them.

If Claudia is playing the model student to the hilt, let her take the role of teacher’s pet.

Mom gave a wry smile at this display by my half-sister, reaching between the bars to pull down the hand raised in salute.

“None of that, Claudia. I’m not here for that.” Despite myself, I felt a small smirk as Claudia’s efforts backfired but felt annoyed at Mom’s gentle smile. My mother then turned her gaze towards me, that smile still etched on her face while I lowered my head away from her. I ignored that tightness in my chest as my head replayed that scene of Mom and Claudia’s interaction. I heard the shuffling of feet, angry whispering from Claudia and even softer, but firm instructions from Mom. I turned to face the wall, intent on ignoring this display until I felt hands I’ve not felt in a long time rest so gently on my shoulders. I rubbed my eyes to get the tears forming due to my drowsiness as I heard Mom greet me in a voice so low and gentle it sounded like she was speaking to me from beneath the covers.

I don’t ever remember sleeping in the covers with Mom and Dad…

“Hi Taylor. Sorry for not being able to welcome you properly before.”

Another firm squeeze, then the hand moved away as I rubbed my eyes and even my nose which was itching. I turned to face the cell doors, and saw Claudia still smiling in the presence of Mom, but the smile no longer reached her eyes. If I was petty then my own smile certainly would reach all the way to my eyebrows in a bout of schadenfreude, but it didn’t so I totally wasn’t gloating. I saw Mom’s maid Momoka walk out of the shadows, her face still having that pleasant smile holding two mugs. Her hands stirred slightly and I heard the clinking of ice cubes in them.

“Momoka, open the gate.”

That green light again, as the cell doors swung open as Mom took both the mugs and handed them to us. I drank the beverage, black tea lukewarm from the ice and felt energized as the slightly sweet drink filled my stomach. With her back against the light, it almost looks as if my mother was blushing but I quickly dismissed that claim. Ange Hebert is incapable of blushing, or feeling guilt. Must be that warm feeling in my chest messing with my perception. Mom then stood up and turned around. Once again, I saw her back facing me as she started walking out of the cell. I was about to turn to face the wall again before I saw Mom turn her head back to the left facing me, that manic and familiar grin clear on her face.

“Walk and take your drinks with you. It’s time to go home.”

As Claudia traced Mom’s departing figure eagerly, I paused for a beat before grabbing my jacket and mug to follow the departing light.

////////x///////

The walk through this Arzenal was refreshing, a warm breeze accompanying us as we strode down the endless maze of corridors that made up the place. We entered the hall where I had first encountered Claudia, the memory of the feeling of her skin against my fist rousing a smile on my face. My half-sister probably sensed it, glaring daggers at me in between making worshipful eyes towards Mom. Even in the presumably very early morning, where the stars still lit up the sky that was visible through the large windows twenty feet above ground in the rocky walls of the place the hall was bustling with activity, Groups of girls milling around, many with their jackets hanging from their shoulders or their hats removed for the case of the guards. With the exception of several adult women, most of the girls hanging out were around my age give or take a year or three. The differing clothes signalling different cliques, several alphas posturing among their peers and the smell of teenage hormones and cheap packaged food from the opened, unfinished food boxes that laid ignored by the girls having a good time.

I had a feeling I was in a single sex version of Winslow, except instead of gang colours and hormonal, edgy teens hiding weapons being herded and watched ineffectively by worn out adults, it was differing uniforms of green, red and blue with hormonal teenagers openly packing arms and adults that seem pretty competent in their jobs if their takedown of Claudia’s little group and me were any indication. As we walked through the gathered girls, several of the older ones gave a salute to my mother, but most of them were too engrossed in whatever gossip or inane activity to really pay attention. Compared to Claudia’s display of military deference earlier, the whole place seemed a lot less regimented than I had envisioned based on my first impression of the place.

“It’s technically lights out, but since we got several expedition teams returning from Earth Mana’s settlements in shifts bearing dragonium deposits and refugees, Command is looking the other way while families catch up.”

Hey waddaya know! Creepy Claudia can pretend to be normal and not a bitch! I saw my half-sister give me sideway glances while she info dropped on something I wasn’t really interested in. Probably just to rub it in my face how much she was better than me in every way. Ways I couldn’t really give a shit about as I pointedly ignored her and gave a turn of my nose. I could almost hear her glowering at my snub as I followed Mom. Momoka then chose this time to intervene, cutting between us as she blocked Claudia from my peripheral vision. Well, she’s surely a more pleasant sight.

“So Lady Taylor?” It still feels wrong to have someone address me like this, “Have you been eating right? Or are you still relying on those frozen junk food when the fresh produce in the house runs out?” I paused at the maid’s statement, my eyes narrowing at the implication as I fixed her with a glare.

“You seem to know a lot about how things are at home?”

“Of course!” The bruised hair girl’s chest puffed with pride as she gave me a proud smile. “I was the one who stocks up the pantry with fresh produce from the farmer’s market after all! If Lady Angelise were to be in charge of that, she’d have the whole kitchen filled with nothing but dried rations, canned food and freeze-dried fruits.” Momoka’s face then fell as she muttered under her breath.

“Though I wish Lady Angelise would stop stuffing plastic explosives into the bags of flour though.”

Figures that it was too much to expect Alan or Mom to be the ones actually stocking up the kitchen or even cleaning the house. I looked at the mysterious guardian who apparently served me from the shadows most of my life, a burning question that I had to get off my chest.

“So you have been looking after me when Mom vanishes to God knows where? Why didn’t you ever show yourself to me before?”

“Lady Angelise told me to watch and serve you hidden from sight, so I did.” The matter of fact fashion with which she answered me threw me off for a beat before I pressed on with a more urgent question.

“Where the hell did you sleep?” With a wide smile plastered on her face, Momoka’s dainty hands were surprisingly strong as she clamped onto my arm while ignoring my query, dragging me towards a waiting elevator where Mom was watching us with a slight smile while Claudia looked at Momoka with a sullen, betrayed expression. As Momoka and I entered, I could hear Claudia muttering about how she never got a maid looking after her needs.

Bitch, at least you got a mother who cares about you. I looked at Mom as she stared at the closing elevator door, wondering how it’d be like if I had grown up here instead.

////////x////////////

The elevator opened the doors to reveal a glassy field on the top of Arzenal, the star lit sky slowly changing from black to a deep blue as the first signs of the dawn began creeping forward. Mom walked silently towards a two storey house made of grey stone carved like a miniature European palace while the three of us trailed her. Two massive wooden doors, polished with gracefully crafted designs on the individual panels and gold plated handles gave way as Momoka used that green light to open it. We walked into a large living room, filled with elegant furniture that looks like it was freshly hauled from a mall’s showroom. In fact, the place barely looks lived in at all. Mom looked around while I basked in the relief from the strong air conditioning in the place. My mother spent a few minutes scanning the place with an irritated face before she turned to her maid.

“Momoka, where’s the rooms again? Haven’t been here since I last took Misty hostage here.”

“Of course, Lady Angelise. Please, all of you follow me.” More doors, smaller than the main ones we entered from but no less expensive looking opened with that green light while we followed behind the petite servant guiding us. We finally reached the end of a corridor, where two white doors swung open revealing a large suite with two king-sized beds complete with individual curtains on their frames laid on opposite ends of the room. Even Claudia looked suitably impressed by the opulence of the display before her, blue eyes taking in every carpeted floor and furniture that looked like it was ripped from a museum display depicting the lives of kings. The two beds had their own fitted wardrobes and polished wood dressing tables with mirrors that are bordered with gold. Mom pointed to a white door at the end of the room, right in the middle between the two beds.

“I will be sleeping there. The walls are not that thick, so if the two of you get up to any funny business I will know.” Red eyes looked at Claudia and me in turn, causing my half-sister to look giddy at the prospect of living so close to her idol. Seemingly satisfied, Mom then focused on me as she removed my jacket and smelt it, before wrinkling her nose in disgust at the sour smell. I simmered as Mom handed the jacket to the waiting arms of Momoka while looking at me like I was caught playing in the garbage. Which I totally was, but it was more being thrown in like a sack of potatoes rather than any actual fun times.

Speaking of clothes, my fingers played with the bullet hole still evident on my t-shirt as I looked at the most likely culprit of my ventilated shirt. I removed the piece of clothing and shoved it into her face, folded chest first so Mom can have a good look at the small hole In front and the larger exit behind.

“Explain.”

Mom blinked at my demand, before a look of realization dawned on her.

“Oh that! Some ABB took you as a hostage when I blew up one of their workshops after they stole your father’s hoverbike. So I shot him through you.” She held up her fingers In a V-sign. ”Twice!”

I gave my crazy mom a flat look, before turning towards my less than impressive chest and looked beneath the bra. Hmm, beige skin over too tight and muscled a chest. Nope, no gaping bullet hole there.

“Fine, be that way.” I can’t believe that I let the few moments that Mom actually acted like a proper parent think that she is anything more than unhinged. Mom frowned at my dismissal, but before she could do more Momoka’s hands clamped onto my mother’s own, a strained smile on her face.

“Let’s not have this place of rest become a firing ground, Lady Angelise.”

My mother gave a confused look to her maid. “But I let Salia...”

“Captain Salia isn’t around, Lady Angelise. And no, I didn’t approve of you letting yourself be the guinea pig for the quantum resurrection experiment either.” Mom visibly deflated, while my heart soared with joy. Finally, someone who can actually keep Ange Missouri Hebert under control! Maybe I should have her as my mother instead. Momoka then summoned a holographic watch and gasped at the hour.

“Lady Angelise! Look at the time already. We shouldn’t be keeping Ms Hilda waiting.” Mom let out a squeak as Momoka dragged her by her forearm out of the room, the twin doors swinging open to the green light. God, where the hell has she been all my life. I might even be well adjusted if she was around to reign in my crazy mother.

“But I want to spend time with my girls!” The doors slammed shut, cutting off the whine of my mother. I sighed in disgust and resignation at Mom’s display, before I caught Claudia’s wistful look at the closed doors.

“Mama Ange was never this happy when she’s with me and Mama Hilda.” Hmm, trouble in paradise for little Miss Creepy? I turned around, lest Creepy Claudia starts playing with her doll again when I felt someone pull down my jeans from behind. My legs instinctively swept back in a mule’s kick followed by a swinging backhand behind me. Claudia parried and rolled away from my attacks before she leapt quickly to her feet, her arms held up in surrender. I kept my fists up, wishing I had my guns with my chest was heaving and my face was flushed at the sudden assault. If Creepy Claudia thinks she can pull something, I’m totally going to drop her off into the sea.

“Calm down, big sis.” Even when she’s evidently deflated and downcast, Claudia’s ability to be a spiteful bitch in a single sneer isn’t diminished. “I was just checking your Port, no biggie.”

“Port?” My half-sister sighed before she turned around and lowered her skirt, exposing what looks like a scar right above her buttocks. I had one just like this since I could remember, so it never struck me to check on its origins. How did she get one?

“It’s what allows us to control our Mails without the use of a complicated AI or OS...” A scowl at my questioning look, Claudia continued. “You know, like the giant…ugh I can’t believe I’m using the term, robot you saw in the video.” It seemed to cause Ms Creepy physical pain to use the word robot, so that’s how I’m going to refer to them exclusively. Hello, Mr Robot. Let’s work to make my bitch of a sister’s life a living hell!

Claudia gave one more wistful look at the doors, before she trudged back to her side of the room. Not bothering to look up from removing her boots, Claudia droned on about tomorrow’s program that I’ve no intention to follow.

“Formal training’s suspended for the week since the People of Aura’s embassy will be here tomorrow on an official visit.” Some fired returned to her blue eyes as Claudia stared past me into the ceiling.

“Mama Ange’s having an exhibition match against Priestess Salamandinay of the DRAGON. The Vilkiss against the Enryugo!” Well, she’s certainly recovered quick, going by her starry-eyed expression.

“Maybe Mama Ange can sing again…” I cocked my head as Claudia rubbed her throat at the mention of one of Mom’s few redeeming factors- that voice of hers. What’s singing got to do with anything? I shrugged as Claudia pulled the curtains over her bed frame, keeping a close eye on Ms Creepy before I turned to my own.

As I sunk into the soft embrace of the massive bed, I dreamt again of the golden vision. But this time, there were two of them, one of flesh and one of metal, burning brightly in heaven till the end of time.

/////////////

A/N Figured I’d get this out since getting into mecha action appears to distract from the tone of this chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it.

Should be out by tonight, the next chapter.

All comments welcome.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.7 Mom.

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Tusk

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My eyes darted around the corridors for signs of a certain orange-headed lizard scientist looking to drag me off for breeding experiments as I approached Hilda’s apartment. Ange’s other spouse had a rather sizeable house in the expanded settlements built on reclaimed land in the back of the island, but she barely uses that after Claudia turned eighteen a year ago and began official cadet training. I heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that I wasn’t going to be hauled off to impregnate a whole gaggle of Auric dragon girls once I dashed into a corridor guarded by two Norma in green, their eyes shooting me an annoyed gaze while their rifles twitched at my unexpected intrusion. None of the other Auric People barring Salamandinay were allowed access into the Arzenal Officer’s Quarters, which meant I was safe as I gave a wink and salute to the two guarding Norma.

Hmm, they’re rolling their eyes while waving me in. Guess being dead for almost ten and a half years really does a number on my charm. That or they’re exclusively gay. Quite a number of them among the ranks of the Norma. I knocked on the door of Hilda’s apartment, where Ange was supposed to be spending the night at. Spending almost two decades on Earth Bet had given me a number of complex feelings regarding Ange’s penchant for polyamory, even if she’s mostly restricted herself to Hilda, maybe Salamandinay and if rumours are true- Ersha.

Though I’m sure Ersha’s definitely not to my wife’s taste. Too maternal, eleven kids from different partnering DNA donors and with a streak of possessiveness that’s driven off a couple of partners she’s had already.

“Come in, Tusk. Hilda’s sound asleep.”

The metal door slid open, revealing a spacious room, decorated rather gaudily with lots of purple and pinkish red. I saw Hilda’s prone figure on her large bed, covered in her orange sheets snoring away, oblivious to the world. My wife laid in the hot tub at the corner of the room, looking over a tablet computer while her face was locked in a worried frown. I removed my boots as I entered, laying on a shoe rack before walking over to Ange who laid the tablet aside as she smiled at my approach. The minute I got within two feet of her, she leapt out of the tub, her body dripping wet while she locked lips with me and pressed me against a sofa that laid beneath an open window. Ange’s wild streak never failed to get my motor running, even as she began to undo my belt with damp hands. I struggled to keep my libido in check as I grabbed her busy fingers, prompting a puzzled stare from my wife.

“I know you’re hungry for seconds, dear.” Her lewd smile in response nearly got me to forget what I was here for. “But we need to talk about Taylor.”

Ange’s worried frown returned in full force at the mention of our daughter. She let go of my pants and belt, reaching for a bathrobe and began to towel her wet hair.

“What a coincidence. I too was worrying over our child.”

Ange continued to wipe her damp mane as she handed me the tablet she was engrossed in not so long ago. I scrolled through the report, looking at the last medical report from a month ago about the stability of Taylor’s genetic modification and her general health. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding after I finished the analysis by both Doctor Gecko and Maggie, signed off by Aura herself. Seems like Taylor’s modifications and implants of Embryo’s technology has finally been completed, with no plausible chance of a horrendous mutation or even quantum blowback. The latter especially makes me shudder, considering the horrifying effects the last time I saw it happen on Taylor during her early years. Now I know why science fiction writers are so adamant of the theory that failed teleportation is a messy affair.

“Danny.”

I peeled my eyes away from the tablet, giving my wife my full attention. Ange only calls me by that name when she’s speaking about Taylor. After Taylor was removed from the artificial womb and implanted into her own, Ange calls me that almost exclusively when we were living on Bet. The memories of that world are bittersweet, with people like Emily, Thomas, Annette, Alan and James shaping my life almost as much as the Norma, my own parents and Embryo did. Ange herself looks like she aged decades at the mere mention of that world. Considering I spent most of the past six months since my revival in and out of a medical induced coma while the genetic treatments did their work, I didn’t get much of a chance to speak with my wife regarding her life on Bet after I had passed on. I pulled her in for a hug, her head resting on my chest while we set the tablet aside. Silence passed, as I basked in a quiet moment with the woman I had nearly given my life for several times.

“Ange.” Red eyes glittered with uncertainty as my wife looked at me.

“What happened to Taylor? I can tell she’s messed up despite seeing her for only a few hours.”

Ange flinched at my question, raising alarms in my head. Ange never flinched.

“Danny, I…” She squeezed my shoulders hard as she shuddered. My heart sank, both at her despair and the dread at her answer.

“I think I broke Taylor, Danny. I broke our daughter.”

“Explain.” My wife flinched, much like the time when I blew up at her when she trashed the Libertus revolution against Embryo which my family had perished for.

“I was having some pillow talk with Hilda just now, regarding the situation of our girls.” The cloth of my t-shirt strained under Ange’s strong fingers as she pulled at them. “I’m sure you’ve seen how Claudia is, but when Hilda mentioned that Taylor reminds her of me before Momoka and you were around, that really scared me.”

“What happened, Ange?” I found myself barely keeping my tone and emotion in check. I remembered the damaged girl I picked up from the wreck of the Vilkiss, how dangerous and scarred in mind and body she was. Just what the hell happened to make Taylor follow in her footsteps like that?

“You remember how we discovered Embryo’s technology would do…things to Taylor when the unchecked quantum technology rearranged Taylor randomly.”

I nodded in response, not wanting to mouth the words as if it was a jinx. Those damn time warp effects started happening when Taylor was about a year old when the gene splicing started to mature. Seeing how her body would be transformed into mutant horrors due to the implanted technology backfiring thanks to the Norma genes interfering gave me nightmares. I sometimes wondered if Embryo got a brainstorm regarding a child born between a Norma and one of us Ancient Humans after seeing me, leaving behind a particularly sadistic trap for us in case of his death.

Find a way to kill me off? Congratulations. Your children can not use my tech and die slowly of dragonium poisoning, or you can attempt to use it and have them suffer.

Embryo, if this is your revenge for me going all the way with Ange before you, fuck you. You still got creepzoned.

If there was any consolation, Taylor never remembered anything about these episodes, her mind a blissful blank post incident. Small blessings, considering what memories of what happened to her might have done to her psyche. Ange was now hyperventilating, her hands balled into fists as she remembered the times when we realised that a post Embryo world presented us with a horrible choice of choosing Taylor’s death. I rubbed her back to soothe her, recalling the helplessness when we were presented with the stark facts of Taylor’s life.

“After you died from the radiant dragonium poisoning, I brought Momoka along with me back to Earth Bet.” Ange bit down a sob as she looked into the window, visualizing those days.

“Things got worse. A lot worse. We had developed dragonium receptors and implants by then, so that Momoka could use the Light of Mana on Bet. Turns out that having an active source of dragonium and use of Mana makes the quantum technology even more unstable.”

A fire burnt in Ange’s eyes as she retold her story of how she dealt with things after my passing. That wild, unquenchable fire that allowed her to defy the God who made her species and drove him wild for her.

“Removing an active source of dragonium didn’t do anything. Anyone who’s a Manaist would aggravate Taylor’s condition, making it worse. It took me many tries before I found a safe distance for Momoka to watch over Taylor when I scoured all three Earths for something that would cure her.”

It must have stabbed Momoka to realise she was partially responsible for making her young mistress suffer.

“How about mixing DRAGON DNA with Taylor? That resolved the issue with Medea.” Ange gave a bitter laugh at my suggestion. Medea was a good kid, helpful when I first met her this afternoon in the hangar. Despite the fact she’s already in her early twenties, not counting the years spent in the artificial incubators the young pilot had a steady head on her shoulders and according to her peers and seniors a good judge of character.

“Aura herself told me that it was more likely to cause further harm than help. Mixing the D-type Genotype with Norma and Ancient Human DNA had to be done in-vitro to produce the required dragonium resistance. Between the quantum healing tech and Taylor already being too old, it wouldn’t do much good.” My beloved laid back into my shoulder, utterly exhausted.

“I was even tracking Gray Boy when I finally received word from Aura that she managed to find a solution to stabilize our girl. Thank God Momoka and I were able to apply it on Taylor by mixing it with her food.” I pulled Ange in for a tight embrace at that revelation. Who knows what might have happened if Ange had successfully tracked down the most dreaded of the Slaughterhouse Nine.

“Five years, Danny. For those five years I had to live alone in dread of a call from Momoka when I was elsewhere on Earth Bet, the Mana Earth or the Auric Earth looking for a cure, overseeing the building of Arzenal here or a thousand other things. I lost count of how many times I had to face a wailing mass of flesh that was my daughter, caught in some horrific time loop of mutation and mutilation, having to mercy kill her so she can be reborn on my return to Brockton Bay.”

A dull sheen overcame her ruby eyes, her voice a dull monotone.

“The worst part of this? I stopped feeling guilt after who knows how many times I had to put her down. I would dismiss Momoka and do the deed mechanically, like I would dispatch some random thug or club wielding militant in a jungle war I was caught up in back on Bet.”

Ange fixed me with a haunted stare, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I was killing her like I was doing with Embryo, Danny. I had given up and was thinking of a way to permanently end her suffering until Aura told me she had a way to fix it, that she would be okay eventually.”

I stared silently at my shaking wife, speechless before Hilda’s husky voice cut in and reminded me why Ange is also in love with her.

“For the love of….give me a break. Next you’re going to be a blubbering wreck over how you started to view killing and then re-killing your kid like a chore.”

Hilda walked over from the bed, clad in a layer of sweat and not much else. I averted my eyes, despite being intimately familiar with the redhead’s body. The two of them liked to experiment sometimes. Hilda pulled Ange’s face to face her, glowering at my wife. Salamandinay once remarked if Momoka and I brought out the sweet side of Ange, Hilda brought out the decisive, take charge facet of my beloved.

“Raising kids are a chore! The kind that breaks your back, your heart and your fucking mind. So that pencil dick Embryo left a flaming bag of dog shit in the form of a genetic fuck you? Screw him like you didn’t. Taylor’s broken, but so is Claudia. We will do both of them at the same time.”

Despite everything, I faced Hilda with a frown to express my disapproval. From the corner of my vision, I could see Ange doing the same.

“Did you just use a double entendre while talking about our kids?” Speaking in stereo with the missus. That’s when you know you’re an old couple.

“Sure did, Princess!” Hilda boasted with a smirk. “We’re all antisocial, violent, non-human Normas after all.”

Ange gave a light laugh at that, her mood lightening. She picked up her tablet, bringing up a video window showing a streaming live feed of the former Rosenblum estate.

“Well, Claudia probably won’t be using her night clothes too much, all things considered.” Hilda actually looked proud as she commented on her daughter.

Yeah, considering the two sets of clothing strewn outside her bed, Trish and Millia have decided to pay their friend a visit.

“Tusk, Hilda?” Ange pulled us both into a bear hug, planting light kisses on our cheeks.

“Let’s go spend some time with our kids.”

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The moments after waking up for me has always been a rather…dreary affair after the home invasion and Dad died. Waking up in a bed usually alone, surrounded by furniture that’s neatly positioned for ease of access to cover and concealment in case of a firefight. Where improvised weapons and later as I grew older, actual firearms were placed in hidden spaces that would allow me to give any burglar a nasty surprise. Not that anyone ever tried to break into my home after some gangbangers tried to raid our place at the height of the gang war between the Teeth, Marquis and the Empire. Hearing about the crazy merc who keeps an entire arsenal in her home, it was probably too tempting a target.

Heh, Arsenal. Mom never really left home in hindsight.

So much blood spilled, but I missed out on most of the violence since the only thing I heard was gunshots and screams after some of them triggered one of the booby traps Mom left in the backyard.

Mom killed the lights, bundled me into a prepped panic room she made herself, and then she went hunting. In the aftermath when the paramedics were treating her own wounds including a gunshot to the shoulder that somehow missed shattering her bones, Mom told me to stay away when I approached.

“Sorry, honey. Too much blood on me to give you a hug and kiss.” Well, if she was wisecracking and giving me a wink, I guess she’s probably not too badly hurt, so I ignored her instructions and hugged her anyway. The paramedics used so many drugs to calm her blubbering, bawling ass down, a rock band from the eighties will stage an intervention.

But I guess I didn’t mind the blood too much, even if getting the stains off was difficult. Who knew she had so much bottled up?

When I was browsing PHO forums one night, one of the old timers who claim to have been a former crew member of Marquis said the crime lord would use that house as a cautionary tale as to why raiding homes for supplies was forbidden.

Waking up in Arzenal on the other hand was quite a different experience. For one thing, when I woke up this time round I wasn’t tightly wound up like a spring ready to burst. No school awaiting me, no audible whispers by groups in class and the hallways. No glances of pity laced with fear from the staff. No having to tell another gang to piss off from their recruiting attempt.

Not having to deal with the drudgery of daily life really does things to lower your stress levels.

Freshly washed sheets, silky smooth blankets in deep purple laced with silver and so many pillows. The air smelt of washed, sundried sheets and perfume, rather than oil, cordite and metal. Not a single pillow, cushion or bolster with a baton, less a firearm sewn inside. A soft mattress I can lose myself in like the warm waters of a pool, the light beige curtains dimming the piercing sun so it’s a gentle dim glow than a piercing harsh light. The soft touch of a silky white negligee on my skin along with comfortable cotton underwear that cupped my growing chest. Well, this place is certainly luxurious at least. I purred as I indulged in the creature comforts provided, turning over to lie on the hard, sculpted bare chest of Dad.

Through the bleary haze of my mind, I started to recount how many things are wrong.

Going to sleep as an A-cup and waking to a B overnight? Check. Went to sleep in a bra with pants and woke in an expensive frilly underwear and sleepwear I would never, ever in a million years look at much less wear? Check. Dad that died of cancer and was brought back with bullshit super-science after he was turned into ice-sculpture, looking so, so ridiculously hot and bare chested and I totally do not want to go there lying next to me? Motherfucking check!

Wait? No, bad Taylor. Do not think of fucking when in the presence of a mega hottie who’s also your father! Do not go down that route!

Okay, let’s distract myself from thinking of Dad! Let’s think of…Alan. Yeah! Old, grumpy and forever strung out Alan whose nerves are shot to hell dealing with Mom. Yeah, nothing desirable about him. Only a muscled physique, really cute freckles on dimpled cheeks and fire engine hair with blonde highlights. That oh so smoky look she gives when being a complete bitch and you want to push her down and do….Damn it! Goddam teenage hormones making me confuse my stabbing wants with my other wants!

Fantasizing about Creepy Claudia of all people! Someone fetch me a bucket, I need to hurl.

Muffled moans piqued my morbid curiosity as I gingerly crawled over the slumbering, sculpted figure of my father, taking care to avoid looking at his rugged, poster boy looks. Despite my cheeks burning up, I thanked whichever deity that decide to feel charitable today that my parent was wearing proper pants at least. I reached for the canopy that hung over the bed frame, and heard the muffled moaning that came from the other end of this massive suite. I saw a skirted shadow walk to the side of the bed, her hands placed on her apron. Well, at least the silent guardian service is as effective as ever.

“Momoka. Why are there moaning noises coming from Creepy Claudia’s bed?” Despite only seeing the shadow cast on the drapes, I could make out my family maid’s eyes blinking in confusion.

“Mom’s kid from her lesbian relation, Momoka.” I could almost hear her lips turning down into a frown. “Please don’t tell me it involves my mother?” The thump of a body hitting the floor came from Claudia’s bed, and a slight opening in the bed’s curtains was pulled as I saw Momoka looking in from the gap.

“Perhaps you’d like to take a look, Lady Taylor?” I crawled over to the opening and peeked out, just in time to see that brunette with tinged orange highlights who got her face slammed into the ground by the guards. Specifically, I got a chance to see her rubbing her butt while stark naked at the foot of Creepy’s bed, while Claudia was looking bored with the blue haired lackey of hers doing something that’s thankfully blocked by the canopy. Though from Claudia’s bare shoulders, I can guess they’re probably in their birthday suits as well. .

“That would be Ms Trish and Ms Millia having their ménage a trois with Lady Claudia.” Momoka said in a small voice, apparently used to being discreet at her employer’s children’s dalliances. “Ms Millia apparently is still as….clumsy as before when doing the nightly visit.”

Hmm, so the dumb looking brunette with orange is named Millia and the chick with the blue hair is named Trish. Good to know who I’m eyeing with disgust in the future. Claudia probably caught me looking in, as her face split into a lascivious smile while pulling Millia back into her love nest, her eyes fixed towards me. I hastily pulled the canopy in again when I saw my half-sister pull hers further apart to let me see her debauchery in full glory.

“Shameless!” I spat out after my heartbeat stopped threatening to burst from my chest at the wanton display Claudia had put out for me. Dad of course chose this time to slowly rise from the covers, causing me to cover my face in embarrassment. Claudia’s laughter rang out as she enjoyed my display of common decency, before the sound of the canopy being pulled enticed my curiosity enough for me to sneak a peek through my fingers. Dad had already begun tying up the drapes to the edge of the bed frame, still clad only in a pair of cotton pants. I stared at the impossibly youthful figure of my father as he began preparing for the day, throwing a punch at Claudia as she tried to sneak up on me.

Figures. Ms Creepy parried my fist while backing away, giggling through every second of our short, violent bout of friendly sisterly violence. She was dressed in the same frilly sleepwear that I was while her two suckerfish had changed into a pair of sports bras and shorts.

“Frustrated you didn’t get a peek?” God, the way she was wiggling her eyebrows at me makes me want to pluck it out.

“Not really. Considering that everyone on this rock has went spelunking in your holes, I’m not really into well-worn tourist traps.” Oh yeah, that’s what I’m going for. That look of surprise and rage that someone considered beneath you just bit back! Dumb and Quiet of course took this affront to their mistress like the good doggies they are as they began to posture menacingly from behind her, while I got to my feet, my fists raised for a fight.

Three on one odds? Good for a morning workout.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Dad said in a resigned tone before he and Momoka used the distraction I provided to circle behind the two stooges, sweeping them off their feet and pinning them onto the floor face first with an arm lock. As the two yelped in pain, Dad shot a warning look to Claudia, who was glaring at Dad for interfering.

“You’re not my parent, Tusk.” Chilling. I should learn to hiss like an ice queen from her one of these days. Or maybe not, since I can’t really stand her.

“No. But Ange is.” Dad and Momoka got up and released the two from their grip, the two goons quickly rushing to the side of Claudia.

“You have a busy day ahead of you, Claudia.” Another hateful glare coupled with a sniff before Old Creepy turned to stomp out of the room, her remora following behind. As the doors slammed shut with a bang at their departure, Momoka alternated between looking at the departing trio and me, before she turned to look at Dad.

“Go ahead, Momoka. I will take care of things here.”

Another warm smile from the maid at both Dad and myself before she hurried out of the room, calling for my half-sister. The awkward silence now that I was alone with my too young father was seriously uncomfortable, especially since my body was reacting all weird like. Cheeks burning, I looked away from Dad while scanning the room for his shirt before finding it lying on the bed frame. I grabbed the article of clothing and hurled it wordlessly at my father, while taking the opportunity to think of other things than how good the young Danny Hebert looks and the way his pecs…

Okay, stopping there right now.

“Alright, Taylor. You can turn around now.”

I turned around, to see Daniel “Tusk” Hebert, looking at me with warm eyes, wide open arms and a lopsided grin. I returned the warm vibes by walking over to him, hugging tightly my father who was dead for so many years. I pulled away from our embrace, and gave him a grin that saw his own becoming very nervous.

I head-butted him, sending him crashing to the floor. I looked over the groaning form of my father, hands on my hips. Still, my dad’s a tough bastard considering he was sitting up right after a blow that laid low several guys much bigger than him.

“Why are the women in my life all so violent?” Despite the whining tone, I could see his lips curled into a smile as he looked up at me. I rolled my eyes even as I tried to keep the smile of my face and failed. Helping him up by his arms, we sat at one of the couches before I fixed him with a death glare.

“Talk.” I growled at his questioning look. “Let’s start with how long you’ve been dead for and why you didn’t let me know you’re alive again.”

“About ten years, spent the past six months drifting in and out of medical comas and therapy.” Dad really impressed me with how nonchalant he was discussing coming back from the dead here. “It was really touch and go.”

Okay, now I feel like a heel for head butting Dad. Not his fault he’s dead and only just brought back with super science. I will chalk this up on the list of things to blame Ange for.

I patted my suddenly respectable chest, my cheeks blushing furiously.

“Ok then. Now we can talk about how I ended up in frilly underwear I’d never look at, how you ended up shirtless in the same bed as your daughter and my boob job.”

Dad’s smile got a lot more uncomfortable as he started to scratch the back of his head, laughing nervously. One of the small actions I vaguely remember him doing when Mom was mad at him.

“Let’s start with the second one. Ange helped remove your clothes and changed you into something she figured you’d like. She’d help Claudia, but her girlfriends and she were already having their…fun times so your mother let Hilda deal with them while she changed you.”

I blinked at Dad’s revelation that my mother actually helped me into my night clothes. Night clothes that didn’t include some kind of hare brained training involving fighting even when you’re asleep.

“Bullshit.”

“Nope.” My father rebutted with a smile. “Ange’s as violent as can be. But she does care for you…in her own way.”

Oh yeah, I’m very familiar with her special kind of affection alright. It involves field stripping a carbine and putting it back together twenty times after a five mile jog. And Lemon Chicken rations. Fuck lemon chicken rations and the sadist who came up with the idea with a bayonet.

“Ange changed you herself, and I think Momoka has a video of it somewhere.”

I wound my fist back.

“You better not have seen that.” I warned.

“No, of course not!” Nervous laughter from my dad again. I lowered my fist and pointed to my chest.

“The boob job and you sleeping shirtless in my bed?”

Dad’s smile became more confident and natural as he pulled me in for a hug. I kinda enjoy having him stroke the back of my head.

“Your body’s reacting to the ambient dragonium radiation. When you were first conceived, we had to retard your growth in some areas due to some medical issues you had. One of the many drawbacks of being a child of a Norma and Ancient Human I suppose.”

I filed the two unfamiliar terms away for future reference.

“And the sleeping shirtless with your fifteen year old daughter?”

Another grin that’s somehow ticking me off.

“Can’t a father want to spend some quality time with his own girl after spending so many years dead?”

I punched him in the shoulder and spent a minute fuming.

“So you said you’re an Ancient Human and Mom’s a Norma. I heard Dr Maggie mention those terms when I met her yesterday, but what exactly do they mean?”

Dad’s grin disappeared as his lips thinned.

“That, will be a rather long and violent tale.”

Story of my life, hottie dad.

“You noticed the green light that Momoka was using for well, everything? Have you wondered why she never let it touch you or Claudia with it?”

“I’m all ears Dad.” My father nodded and went over to my dresser, pulling out a remote control. I heard the curtains being closing, blocking out the light from the windows before a large flat screen monitor descended from the ceiling. The screen flickered to life, showing a vaguely Asian woman with long brown hair in a grey suit. She stood in front of a cyan globe set on a plain white background, a robotic smile etched on her face.

“Taylor, please say hello to the Disaster Relief AI Himawari.” The simulated face of the programme gave me a wide smile, making me uneasy at how similar it looked compared to the canned pleasant expressions from service staff all over the world.

“Himawari, please display the records of World War Seven for Taylor.”

////////////x/////////////

I sat in stunned silence, looking at the ceiling while the curtains pulled apart, letting the late morning light flood in. My eyes idly roamed the large room, wandering at how it’s unfair this single suite was larger than my entire house back in Brockton Bay. All this rambling thoughts, just to avoid facing what I’ve just learnt, thanks to a video and Dad’s lecture.

“So the world ended in an apocalyptic war some five hundred sixty-eight years ago, and Mom’s ride is one of those machines that ended it?” I asked rhetorically to Dad, more concerned at the lack of horror I felt Mom piloting a doomsday weapon.

“Pretty much. Also, the whole mess that’s the Norma and the Mana people.” My father looked me over, gauging my reaction to learning about how yet another world so advanced can’t seem to get over the same issues that plagued Earth Bet.

Norma are violent, antisocial, irrational creatures. All female. Sounds like a bad sexist joke writ large made into official government policy. Until Mom came along and crashed the party anyways.

Was it bad that I found myself not caring that much? One group of bigoted assholes despite the blessings of a technology that would solve almost all the problems back on Earth Bet got what’s coming at the hands of a violent underclass they created. Sounds like a karmic punishment to me.

“That Embryo guy sounds like a major creep.” I finally said after thinking of how to break the silence. Dad’s easy grin appeared, as he leaned forward and whispered in a low voice.

“You know what your mother said about him when he tried to rape her in his dimensional stronghold?” Dad looked around, as if wary of Mom popping out of nowhere. He should be more wary of Momoka though, sneaky as she is.

“That he doesn’t know how to get it up or get the correct hole even when he got her naked and tied up. Because he’s a sad, perverted, shut in dirty old man who lived for what’s effectively a thousand years, yet was obsessed with an Ange that never was and was so mad another man got her virginity first.”

I laughed, even if I felt kinda bad about it. But only Ange Missouri Hebert would make a joke about the time she nearly got raped.

“Would that be before or after you got a face full of my naked crotch when rescuing me, Danny?”

Oh hi, Mom. Only my mother and Momoka ever managed to get the drop on me, barring the time Sophia used a goddam tranquilizer dart on me. Mom was wearing a white flight suit that showed off her cleavage for some reason. My eyes were drawn to the cable with some kind of plug at the end, hanging off her hip like a tail, Mom pinched Dad on the cheeks, growling about inappropriate behaviour regarding teenage children. The irony of Ange Hebert disapproving of someone’s parenting methods.

My mother gave me a bright smile in greeting, clearly feeling at home here on this rock before she turned her complete attention to Dad. Good for her, since I didn’t really get a choice in this matter. She can play happy family with Ms Creepy all she wants.

I snuck towards my bed while my parents were having their lover’s tiff, grabbing a fresh set of clothing laid out on the dresser that consist of the red and white uniform worn by Claudia, a pair of white knee length boots and more importantly, a holster with a pair of automatic pistols. I reached for the webbing, feeling the comforting weight of the guns and the four spare magazines full loaded in them. Pulling open one of the drawers, I grabbed seven fragmentation grenades that filled up my pouches on the webbing, and grabbed a combat knife that came with a sheath that fitted well on my belt. Next to my wallet that was had stacks of unknown currency stuffed in them was a plain envelope filled with more of these unfamiliar money and a gold ring with a brilliant green gem.

Waste not, want not. I grabbed the money and stuffed the envelope into my jacket and slid the ring onto my right hand’s ring finger.

I snuck a peak at my still bickering parents, who were now seated on the sofa with Mom straddling my father. I gagged at the public display of lovey dovey by my parents before I left the room, keeping to the walls to avoid drawing attention. I went over the SERE training in my head that Mom made me undergo as I made my way out of the mansion.

If I’m to escape, I will need to get familiar with this place after all.

///////////////x/////////////

In the late morning light, Arzenal regains a foreboding atmosphere that makes you tether on the edge. After taking the elevator down to the bottom floor, I found myself lost in a crowd of unfamiliar faces, dressed mostly in Arzenal colours. No one really paid attention to me now that I was wearing their uniform, barring a curious glance or two from the guards in their green uniforms, vests and those nasty shock batons. I even managed to learn the differing ranks among those wearing the red uniforms. The gold diamonds sewn onto their backs signify their rank. The younger lower ranked ones have a basic design, while the older women and presumably officers have extra points on the diamonds, going up to a maximum of four extra points, forming an eight pointed star-diamond hybrid symbol. Of course, Mom’s girlfriend Hilda had a basic diamond design on her jacket, but it was a brighter shade of gold compared to the others I’ve seen so far. Special status perhaps?

Wearing the basic dull diamond on my jacket allowed me to play the role of a dumb recruit to the hilt, as I gave a practiced blank look and stammering nervousness when some of the guards and older women asked which squadron I belonged to. A couple of the more nosey ones even told me to go to the second floor for processing or to find my mother, since fresh Norma from outside Arzenal gathered there. I gave a goofy smile and snapped a properly stiff salute, which usually satisfied the nosey parkers who would then tell me to run along while they attended to other business.

Apparently, I was in luck. There was something important going on, so the older Norma were not able to properly supervise a stray teen like myself. The other would be there were other sources of Norma other than Arzenal. Of course, the former was far more important to me. I reached for my guns, patting them to feel the reassuring weight before I continued to the fourth floor, where the main hangar and runway was located. I casually mingled among the gathered girls wearing red like me, giving pleasantries to a few of them to keep up the masquerade by using their names I caught from glimpses of their conversations. One thing that stood out for me was that despite the military chic Arzenal was going for, none of the girls used a recognisable last name. Very unusual for an aspiring military.

I inched forward towards the hangars, where several Norma dressed in orange overalls and white helmets were running around doing checks on several craft that resembled a hybrid of VTOL gunships and transports. The belly of the craft opened, and streams of dishevelled people in tattered civilian clothes trudged out onto the tarmac, where the guards began to separate them for processing.

“Why are there refugees here?” I muttered to myself while eyeing the awaiting transports, their engines still running. I scanned the guards that were divided between sorting out the refugees and guarding the craft, but found no opening for me to slip in. In any case, those plane like fighters in some of the hangars nearby appeared sleeker and faster, bristling with guns and possible rockets if those tubes sticking by the sides were any indication. No way in hell would I be able bust out successfully on those slow looking gunships.

I winced when I felt someone land a hand onto my right shoulder, angry at myself for failing to notice someone approaching me. I slowly got up from my crouching positon I was observing the refugees from, my hands up to show I was unarmed. I turned around to face whoever got the drop on me, and thanked my lucky stars it wasn’t a familiar face. The woman who caught me was a taller, lanky but well-built woman probably in her mid-twenties. Dark hair tied in a bun that was almost a shade of purple, sharp eyes with irises the same colour as her hair and a pair of red rimmed glasses. She stood in an easy stance, almost slouching to the side with a lazy smile on her face. I looked at the six pointed star on her chest, and started on my startled, nervous recruit act.

“Sorry Ma’am! I was just looking at the refugees to see if any of my relatives were among them!” I quivered my lips as I finished my sentence, making sure to let my tears pool up for maximum effect. It seemed to work, since Glasses Officer’s expression turned from grinning smugness to earnest sympathy. Thank you Mom, for the acting classes you insisted I attended!

“No harm done, Cadet. Name’s Medea, daughter of Salia of Mykonos Settlement.” She grinned, before pulling down my arm which was still held in a stiff salute. “What’s your name?”

“Hebert, Taylor Hebert Ma’am!” I didn’t hide my grimace as I realised I just gave out my real name to someone who might just have me locked up and thrown into a cell, but thankfully my name didn’t seem to trigger any form of recognition with this Medea. The dark haired Norma rubbed her chin, alternating glances between me and the gathered and growing refugee crowd as more transports landed and disgorged more people. As the guards moved to separate some of the girls and younger women from their families, which consisted solely of the elderly and some adult women, several shouting matches broke out. One of the refugee women was pushed to the floor, prompting her daughter who was barely eight years old to rush out from the separated children and attempt to cover the woman from the guard. I felt my rage rising at this display of brutality and almost jumped in, before I found myself being held back.

“Don’t be so eager to play hero, Taylor.”

“The name’s Hebert.” I hissed out while shaking off her hand. Medea frowned at my aggression, but merely shrugged and gave one of those all-knowing grins which I started to hate.

“Whoa there, Ms Edgy. No need to curse yourself by using your last name. Weren’t you briefed on the taboo on using last names for us Norma?”

“Name’s Hebert.” I repeated as I started to stalk towards those little fascist goons before cheesy carnival music started blaring out. I stopped at the unexpected soundtrack being played, watching in wonder as three costumed mascots approached the gathered refugees and guards. Three large teddy bears that looked like riot of green, orange and purple stitched together haphazardly with the stitching still plainly visible and a large pink tongue sticking out. The one in the middle saw the looming Norma guard standing over the fallen mother and rushed over, knocking the guard over with a single kick to the knees. The other mascots followed behind, grabbing the dazed guard by the arms and dragging her towards the side where one of the more senior guard commanders had rushed out on hearing the commotion.

The first mascot looked at the offending guard being taken in, satisfaction apparent in her pose before she knelt down to pat the head of the sobbing refugee child.

“Don’t worry about that meanie guard, little girl! Perolina won’t let anyone harm the little children!” The whimpering child looked up at the mascot that rescued her with a comical display of martial prowess, wonderment in her eyes. Children apparently aren’t too picky that their hero looks like the result of an explosion at the paint and garment factory.

“You promise, Ms Perolina?” The mascot nodded vigorously, the shaking head making some of the gathered children squeal in delight. Perolina stuck out her right paw towards the sobbing child, making me wonder why the kid wasn’t crying in fear from that hideous bear visage bearing down on her. Children have weird tastes.

“Pinkie swear!” The girl giggled in delight as she attempted to hook the finger of a stuffed costume bear, while I stood confounded as I finally linked the falsetto voice to a name.

“Claudia’s willing to go out dressed like that?” I muttered under my breath as I felt my worldview shatter at the sight of Ms Creepy gleefully playing with a powerless refugee girl while being swarmed by the kids. Guess she has some redeeming qualities after all, though it still doesn’t change the fact she’s a creepy, shameless libertine who’s into lesbian orgies and obsessed with her mother. I quickly walked away from this surreal sight, just in case the head on one of those costumes popped out to reveal Mom playing along with the children. One worldview shattering is enough for the morning, thank you very much.

“Hey Taylor, wait up!”

I turned around as I cleared the hangar into one of the many corridors, looking intently at Medea as the older Norma ran up to me.

“I thought you’re looking for your family?” She gave me a curious look, scanning me from head to toe as my hands reached for my holstered weapons. Medea’s eyebrows raised at my action, but remained silent as she continued to study me before fixing me a glare.

“You’re planning to bust out, aren’t you?”

I pointed one of my guns at her face, daring her to do something. Funny, I expected more fear of impending death from her.

“Not going to shoot, Taylor?”

“Don’t tempt me.” I grit out. “No one will ever find your body if it goes into the shoreline here.”

“Touché. But listen to me. Those transports you see there? They’re capable of going far distances, but unless you know where the hell you’re going, you’d just crash into the sea, assuming the Paramail patrols don’t disable your engines and haul you back. The Mails themselves probably can get you really far if you get the newer long range models, or even a Ragnamail. But what’s waiting for you back wherever you came from.”

“Nothing.” I spat out. “The weather’s awful most of the year. School’s hell and I’ve probably burnt my chance of a proper future with my history of violence. The people there can’t give a rat’s ass about me with only one strung out old friend of my father who’s fucking terrified of my crazy mom who sort of cares about me. Maybe.”

“So why do you want to go back there?” A good question from Medea.

I undid the safety on the pistol.

“Because my mother didn’t give me a goddam choice when she dragged me here, I played along because I wanted to see what the hell she’s been up to, and now I decided that it really has got nothing to do with me.” I kept my gun trained on Medea even as I looked around for any approaching threats, dismissing the still fresh images of the huddled, terrified masses I’ve seen being taken in by the Norma.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I want to go back to Earth Bet. More probably that I’d end up doing some kind of work here on this weird, fucked up world. At least I made the choice this time around.”

Despite the loaded weapon I had pointed at her, Medea appeared unconcerned.

“Commander Ange was correct. You really are headstrong as she is. Captain Naomi and I are going to have so much fun with you and Claudia.”

So fucking tempting to cap her. She knew all along!

“I prefer the term stubborn bitch.”

Medea shrugged, apparently unconcerned at the high velocity lead poisoning that was imminent in her future.

“In two weeks, we have an expedition back to Earth Mana where we’d be patrolling allied settlements and doing search and extraction missions on suspected Normas in the Junkie lands. During that time, you can join us on the mission, piss off back to Bet or go somewhere here on Earth Aura. Choice is yours. Only condition is that you learn to pilot a Mail by then.”

No freebies huh? Not even a ride home or elsewhere from this bunch of stingy cunts.

I glowered at the retreating form of Medea, turning her back to me who’s pointing a gun at her. I slid my trigger finger into the trigger guard.

“Looking forward to see you at the simulators or even the Mail training grounds, Taylor.”

I barely began to squeeze the trigger before a large pink tail slapped my hands, sending the rounds I’ve fired straight into the armoured walkway of the corridor, dully noting that the bullets all flattened against the metal plates instead of ricocheting.

Good to see that safety is of paramount concern here. Not. A dozen or so of the guards had by now appeared on both sides of the corridor, attracted by the sounds of gunfire with their shock batons and energy shields ready. I considered using my grenades to clear the path before Medea laid a hand on the guard commander’s shoulder before she gave the order to subdue me. I cast a wary look at the pink tail and leathery wings she was now sporting, glaring into her now reptilian eyes. Goddam DRAGON.

“It’s fine. Just a young girl going over her many, many issues with firearms and attempted violence.” I bristled at the sideway glance she gave me, reaching for my still fully loaded spare gun before several rifles aimed by the guards in my direction convinced me otherwise.

“Girl’s a Norma through and through.”

Piss off Medea! Once I get into one of those giant robots, you’re the first one I’m stomping into paste. Maybe I will wear your wings on my figurehead.

//////////////////////x/////////////////

Zhao Mei is a fine mechanic. As a matter of fact, she was the finest goddam mechanic there was that’s still alive, especially when it comes to the Mails. Only that DRAGON scientist Kaliya who built the DRAGON Ragnamails had more knowledge on Ragnamails and Mails in general, but she underwent a fancy education. Mei had to learn everything from her deceased sister and later by herself. To challenge herself, Mei routinely took apart and rebuilt Paramail parts blindfolded, just so she could get used to maintaining them in the dark.

This meant the pint sized Norma mechanic was seriously annoyed when one of the younger mechanics ran to her in a panic, babbling something about the Pegasus Ragnamail they were assembling based on the salvaged parts and blueprints of the Hysterica.

“The assembled parts have started to assemble themselves and the head is glowing!”

Ling, the mechanic who ran to her was a good kid. Hardworking and smart, but her old injuries and trauma at the hands of the Junkies back on the Mana Earth had left her with an addiction to painkillers. She was eccentric, and had last tried to install five positron cannons into a single Paramail frame, resulting in the whole machine tipping over and ending up in the ocean.

“I swear Ling. One of these days, you’re going to uncover the running engine of an active Paramail and be vaporised by two million Kelvin’s worth of dragonium energy because you’re high on medication.”

Mei entered the sealed hangar at the rear end of the reclaimed Arzenal Island, far from the main fortress Arzenal. The mechanical prodigy found herself trying to snap her jaw shut when she saw the disassembled parts of the Pegasus prototype Ragnamail strain against the chains used to restrain them, the torso and head of the machine glowing a brilliant gold.

“Someone inform the Commander. Pegasus may have just found her new mistress.”

////////////////////////////

A/N: So Taylor gets a first-hand experience of waking up next to a handsome, mysterious half naked guy in Hotel Sunrise!

Next up! Someone drops into a cockpit- or maybe not.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.7 Mom.

/////////////////x/////////

Tusk

//////////////x////////

My eyes darted around the corridors for signs of a certain orange-headed lizard scientist looking to drag me off for breeding experiments as I approached Hilda’s apartment. Ange’s other spouse had a rather sizeable house in the expanded settlements built on reclaimed land in the back of the island, but she barely uses that after Claudia turned eighteen a year ago and began official cadet training. I heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that I wasn’t going to be hauled off to impregnate a whole gaggle of Auric dragon girls once I dashed into a corridor guarded by two Norma in green, their eyes shooting me an annoyed gaze while their rifles twitched at my unexpected intrusion. None of the other Auric People barring Salamandinay were allowed access into the Arzenal Officer’s Quarters, which meant I was safe as I gave a wink and salute to the two guarding Norma.

Hmm, they’re rolling their eyes while waving me in. Guess being dead for almost ten and a half years really does a number on my charm. That or they’re exclusively gay. Quite a number of them among the ranks of the Norma. I knocked on the door of Hilda’s apartment, where Ange was supposed to be spending the night at. Spending almost two decades on Earth Bet had given me a number of complex feelings regarding Ange’s penchant for polyamory, even if she’s mostly restricted herself to Hilda, maybe Salamandinay and if rumours are true- Ersha.

Though I’m sure Ersha’s definitely not to my wife’s taste. Too maternal, eleven kids from different partnering DNA donors and with a streak of possessiveness that’s driven off a couple of partners she’s had already.

“Come in, Tusk. Hilda’s sound asleep.”

The metal door slid open, revealing a spacious room, decorated rather gaudily with lots of purple and pinkish red. I saw Hilda’s prone figure on her large bed, covered in her orange sheets snoring away, oblivious to the world. My wife laid in the hot tub at the corner of the room, looking over a tablet computer while her face was locked in a worried frown. I removed my boots as I entered, laying on a shoe rack before walking over to Ange who laid the tablet aside as she smiled at my approach. The minute I got within two feet of her, she leapt out of the tub, her body dripping wet while she locked lips with me and pressed me against a sofa that laid beneath an open window. Ange’s wild streak never failed to get my motor running, even as she began to undo my belt with damp hands. I struggled to keep my libido in check as I grabbed her busy fingers, prompting a puzzled stare from my wife.

“I know you’re hungry for seconds, dear.” Her lewd smile in response nearly got me to forget what I was here for. “But we need to talk about Taylor.”

Ange’s worried frown returned in full force at the mention of our daughter. She let go of my pants and belt, reaching for a bathrobe and began to towel her wet hair.

“What a coincidence. I too was worrying over our child.”

Ange continued to wipe her damp mane as she handed me the tablet she was engrossed in not so long ago. I scrolled through the report, looking at the last medical report from a month ago about the stability of Taylor’s genetic modification and her general health. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding after I finished the analysis by both Doctor Gecko and Maggie, signed off by Aura herself. Seems like Taylor’s modifications and implants of Embryo’s technology has finally been completed, with no plausible chance of a horrendous mutation or even quantum blowback. The latter especially makes me shudder, considering the horrifying effects the last time I saw it happen on Taylor during her early years. Now I know why science fiction writers are so adamant of the theory that failed teleportation is a messy affair.

“Danny.”

I peeled my eyes away from the tablet, giving my wife my full attention. Ange only calls me by that name when she’s speaking about Taylor. After Taylor was removed from the artificial womb and implanted into her own, Ange calls me that almost exclusively when we were living on Bet. The memories of that world are bittersweet, with people like Emily, Thomas, Annette, Alan and James shaping my life almost as much as the Norma, my own parents and Embryo did. Ange herself looks like she aged decades at the mere mention of that world. Considering I spent most of the past six months since my revival in and out of a medical induced coma while the genetic treatments did their work, I didn’t get much of a chance to speak with my wife regarding her life on Bet after I had passed on. I pulled her in for a hug, her head resting on my chest while we set the tablet aside. Silence passed, as I basked in a quiet moment with the woman I had nearly given my life for several times.

“Ange.” Red eyes glittered with uncertainty as my wife looked at me.

“What happened to Taylor? I can tell she’s messed up despite seeing her for only a few hours.”

Ange flinched at my question, raising alarms in my head. Ange never flinched.

“Danny, I…” She squeezed my shoulders hard as she shuddered. My heart sank, both at her despair and the dread at her answer.

“I think I broke Taylor, Danny. I broke our daughter.”

“Explain.” My wife flinched, much like the time when I blew up at her when she trashed the Libertus revolution against Embryo which my family had perished for.

“I was having some pillow talk with Hilda just now, regarding the situation of our girls.” The cloth of my t-shirt strained under Ange’s strong fingers as she pulled at them. “I’m sure you’ve seen how Claudia is, but when Hilda mentioned that Taylor reminds her of me before Momoka and you were around, that really scared me.”

“What happened, Ange?” I found myself barely keeping my tone and emotion in check. I remembered the damaged girl I picked up from the wreck of the Vilkiss, how dangerous and scarred in mind and body she was. Just what the hell happened to make Taylor follow in her footsteps like that?

“You remember how we discovered Embryo’s technology would do…things to Taylor when the unchecked quantum technology rearranged Taylor randomly.”

I nodded in response, not wanting to mouth the words as if it was a jinx. Those damn time warp effects started happening when Taylor was about a year old when the gene splicing started to mature. Seeing how her body would be transformed into mutant horrors due to the implanted technology backfiring thanks to the Norma genes interfering gave me nightmares. I sometimes wondered if Embryo got a brainstorm regarding a child born between a Norma and one of us Ancient Humans after seeing me, leaving behind a particularly sadistic trap for us in case of his death.

Find a way to kill me off? Congratulations. Your children can not use my tech and die slowly of dragonium poisoning, or you can attempt to use it and have them suffer.

Embryo, if this is your revenge for me going all the way with Ange before you, fuck you. You still got creepzoned.

If there was any consolation, Taylor never remembered anything about these episodes, her mind a blissful blank post incident. Small blessings, considering what memories of what happened to her might have done to her psyche. Ange was now hyperventilating, her hands balled into fists as she remembered the times when we realised that a post Embryo world presented us with a horrible choice of choosing Taylor’s death. I rubbed her back to soothe her, recalling the helplessness when we were presented with the stark facts of Taylor’s life.

“After you died from the radiant dragonium poisoning, I brought Momoka along with me back to Earth Bet.” Ange bit down a sob as she looked into the window, visualizing those days.

“Things got worse. A lot worse. We had developed dragonium receptors and implants by then, so that Momoka could use the Light of Mana on Bet. Turns out that having an active source of dragonium and use of Mana makes the quantum technology even more unstable.”

A fire burnt in Ange’s eyes as she retold her story of how she dealt with things after my passing. That wild, unquenchable fire that allowed her to defy the God who made her species and drove him wild for her.

“Removing an active source of dragonium didn’t do anything. Anyone who’s a Manaist would aggravate Taylor’s condition, making it worse. It took me many tries before I found a safe distance for Momoka to watch over Taylor when I scoured all three Earths for something that would cure her.”

It must have stabbed Momoka to realise she was partially responsible for making her young mistress suffer.

“How about mixing DRAGON DNA with Taylor? That resolved the issue with Medea.” Ange gave a bitter laugh at my suggestion. Medea was a good kid, helpful when I first met her this afternoon in the hangar. Despite the fact she’s already in her early twenties, not counting the years spent in the artificial incubators the young pilot had a steady head on her shoulders and according to her peers and seniors a good judge of character.

“Aura herself told me that it was more likely to cause further harm than help. Mixing the D-type Genotype with Norma and Ancient Human DNA had to be done in-vitro to produce the required dragonium resistance. Between the quantum healing tech and Taylor already being too old, it wouldn’t do much good.” My beloved laid back into my shoulder, utterly exhausted.

“I was even tracking Gray Boy when I finally received word from Aura that she managed to find a solution to stabilize our girl. Thank God Momoka and I were able to apply it on Taylor by mixing it with her food.” I pulled Ange in for a tight embrace at that revelation. Who knows what might have happened if Ange had successfully tracked down the most dreaded of the Slaughterhouse Nine.

“Five years, Danny. For those five years I had to live alone in dread of a call from Momoka when I was elsewhere on Earth Bet, the Mana Earth or the Auric Earth looking for a cure, overseeing the building of Arzenal here or a thousand other things. I lost count of how many times I had to face a wailing mass of flesh that was my daughter, caught in some horrific time loop of mutation and mutilation, having to mercy kill her so she can be reborn on my return to Brockton Bay.”

A dull sheen overcame her ruby eyes, her voice a dull monotone.

“The worst part of this? I stopped feeling guilt after who knows how many times I had to put her down. I would dismiss Momoka and do the deed mechanically, like I would dispatch some random thug or club wielding militant in a jungle war I was caught up in back on Bet.”

Ange fixed me with a haunted stare, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I was killing her like I was doing with Embryo, Danny. I had given up and was thinking of a way to permanently end her suffering until Aura told me she had a way to fix it, that she would be okay eventually.”

I stared silently at my shaking wife, speechless before Hilda’s husky voice cut in and reminded me why Ange is also in love with her.

“For the love of….give me a break. Next you’re going to be a blubbering wreck over how you started to view killing and then re-killing your kid like a chore.”

Hilda walked over from the bed, clad in a layer of sweat and not much else. I averted my eyes, despite being intimately familiar with the redhead’s body. The two of them liked to experiment sometimes. Hilda pulled Ange’s face to face her, glowering at my wife. Salamandinay once remarked if Momoka and I brought out the sweet side of Ange, Hilda brought out the decisive, take charge facet of my beloved.

“Raising kids are a chore! The kind that breaks your back, your heart and your fucking mind. So that pencil dick Embryo left a flaming bag of dog shit in the form of a genetic fuck you? Screw him like you didn’t. Taylor’s broken, but so is Claudia. We will do both of them at the same time.”

Despite everything, I faced Hilda with a frown to express my disapproval. From the corner of my vision, I could see Ange doing the same.

“Did you just use a double entendre while talking about our kids?” Speaking in stereo with the missus. That’s when you know you’re an old couple.

“Sure did, Princess!” Hilda boasted with a smirk. “We’re all antisocial, violent, non-human Normas after all.”

Ange gave a light laugh at that, her mood lightening. She picked up her tablet, bringing up a video window showing a streaming live feed of the former Rosenblum estate.

“Well, Claudia probably won’t be using her night clothes too much, all things considered.” Hilda actually looked proud as she commented on her daughter.

Yeah, considering the two sets of clothing strewn outside her bed, Trish and Millia have decided to pay their friend a visit.

“Tusk, Hilda?” Ange pulled us both into a bear hug, planting light kisses on our cheeks.

“Let’s go spend some time with our kids.”

////////////////////x//////////////////////

The moments after waking up for me has always been a rather…dreary affair after the home invasion and Dad died. Waking up in a bed usually alone, surrounded by furniture that’s neatly positioned for ease of access to cover and concealment in case of a firefight. Where improvised weapons and later as I grew older, actual firearms were placed in hidden spaces that would allow me to give any burglar a nasty surprise. Not that anyone ever tried to break into my home after some gangbangers tried to raid our place at the height of the gang war between the Teeth, Marquis and the Empire. Hearing about the crazy merc who keeps an entire arsenal in her home, it was probably too tempting a target.

Heh, Arsenal. Mom never really left home in hindsight.

So much blood spilled, but I missed out on most of the violence since the only thing I heard was gunshots and screams after some of them triggered one of the booby traps Mom left in the backyard.

Mom killed the lights, bundled me into a prepped panic room she made herself, and then she went hunting. In the aftermath when the paramedics were treating her own wounds including a gunshot to the shoulder that somehow missed shattering her bones, Mom told me to stay away when I approached.

“Sorry, honey. Too much blood on me to give you a hug and kiss.” Well, if she was wisecracking and giving me a wink, I guess she’s probably not too badly hurt, so I ignored her instructions and hugged her anyway. The paramedics used so many drugs to calm her blubbering, bawling ass down, a rock band from the eighties will stage an intervention.

But I guess I didn’t mind the blood too much, even if getting the stains off was difficult. Who knew she had so much bottled up?

When I was browsing PHO forums one night, one of the old timers who claim to have been a former crew member of Marquis said the crime lord would use that house as a cautionary tale as to why raiding homes for supplies was forbidden.

Waking up in Arzenal on the other hand was quite a different experience. For one thing, when I woke up this time round I wasn’t tightly wound up like a spring ready to burst. No school awaiting me, no audible whispers by groups in class and the hallways. No glances of pity laced with fear from the staff. No having to tell another gang to piss off from their recruiting attempt.

Not having to deal with the drudgery of daily life really does things to lower your stress levels.

Freshly washed sheets, silky smooth blankets in deep purple laced with silver and so many pillows. The air smelt of washed, sundried sheets and perfume, rather than oil, cordite and metal. Not a single pillow, cushion or bolster with a baton, less a firearm sewn inside. A soft mattress I can lose myself in like the warm waters of a pool, the light beige curtains dimming the piercing sun so it’s a gentle dim glow than a piercing harsh light.

The soft touch of a silky white pyjamas on my skin along with comfortable cotton underwear that cupped my growing chest. Well, this place is certainly luxurious at least. I purred as I indulged in the creature comforts provided, turning over to lie on Dad.

Through the bleary haze of my mind, I started to recount how many things are wrong.

Going to sleep as an A-cup and waking to a B overnight? Check. Went to sleep in a bra with pants and woke in an expensive silk sleepwear I would never, ever in a million years look at much less wear? Check. Dad that died of cancer and was brought back with bullshit super-science in my bed? Motherfucking check.

I crept over my father's sleeping form. At least he's fully clothed. I would hate to kick him out of my bed otherwise.

Muffled giggling piqued my morbid curiosity as I gingerly crawled over my father, Despite my cheeks burning up,I reached for the canopy that hung over the bed frame, and heard the noise that came from the other end of this massive suite. I saw a skirted shadow walk to the side of the bed, her hands placed on her apron. Well, at least the silent guardian service is as effective as ever.

“Momoka. Why are there weird noises coming from Creepy Claudia’s bed?” Despite only seeing the shadow cast on the drapes, I could make out my family maid’s eyes blinking in confusion.

“Mom’s kid from her lesbian relation, Momoka.” I could almost hear her lips turning down into a frown. “Please don’t tell me it involves my mother?” The thump of a body hitting the floor came from Claudia’s bed, and a slight opening in the bed’s curtains was pulled as I saw Momoka looking in from the gap.

"Best not to see what's going on, Lady Taylor. I will inform Lady Claudia to uh...finish up. " Momoka's face seemed uneasy, despite the easy smile she still wore effortlessly.

"Ms Trish and Ms Millia. It's time for you two ladies to leave." I sneaked a peek beyond the canopy, to see Momoka addressing the orangehead Millia and the girl with the blue hair Trish by their names while helping them put on their t-shirt and shorts. Claudia sat on the side of the bed, her shirt unbuttoned while smirking at me.

“Shameless!” I spat out after my heartbeat stopped threatening to burst thinking of Claudia's behaviour. Dad of course chose this time to slowly rise from the covers, causing me to cover my face in embarrassment. Claudia’s laughter rang out as she enjoyed my display of common decency, before the sound of the canopy being pulled enticed my curiosity enough for me to sneak a peek through my fingers. Dad had already begun tying up the drapes to the edge of the bed frame, dressed in cotton pants and an old, ratty t-shirt with dried oil marks on them. I stared at the impossibly youthful figure of my father as he began preparing for the day, throwing a punch at Claudia as she tried to sneak up on me.

Figures. Ms Creepy parried my fist while backing away, giggling through every second of our short, violent bout of friendly sisterly violence.

“Frustrated you slept through the show?” God, the way she was wiggling her eyebrows at me makes me want to pluck it out.

“Not really. Considering that everyone on this rock has went spelunking in your holes, I’m not really into well-worn tourist traps.” Oh yeah, that’s what I’m going for. That look of surprise and rage that someone considered beneath you just bit back! Her two goons who had just reached the door came rushing back in defense of their mistress.

Three on one odds? Good for a morning workout.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Dad said in a resigned tone before he and Momoka used the distraction I provided to circle behind the two stooges, sweeping them off their feet and pinning them onto the floor face first with an arm lock. As the two yelped in pain, Dad shot a warning look to Claudia, who was glaring at Dad for interfering.

“You’re not my parent, Tusk.” Chilling. I should learn to hiss like an ice queen from her one of these days. Or maybe not, since I can’t really stand her.

“No. But Ange is.” Dad and Momoka got up and released the two from their grip, the two goons quickly rushing to the side of Claudia.

“You have a busy day ahead of you, Claudia.” Another hateful glare coupled with a sniff before Old Creepy turned to stomp out of the room, her remora following behind. As the doors slammed shut with a bang at their departure, Momoka alternated between looking at the departing trio and me, before she turned to look at Dad.

“Go ahead, Momoka. I will take care of things here.”

Cheeks burning as my mind thought of my half sister's debauchery, I looked away from Dad while scanning the room to avoid looking at him. I took a pillow and hurled it wordlessly at my father, while taking the opportunity to think of other things than how good the young Danny Hebert looks.

How did I miss the good looks from both sides of the family?

“Alright, Taylor. You can turn around now.”

I turned around, to see Daniel “Tusk” Hebert, looking at me with warm eyes, wide open arms and a lopsided grin. I returned the warm vibes by walking over to him, hugging tightly my father who was dead for so many years. I pulled away from our embrace, and gave him a grin that saw his own becoming very nervous.

I head-butted him, sending him crashing to the floor. I looked over the groaning form of my father, hands on my hips. Still, my dad’s a tough bastard considering he was sitting up right after a blow that laid low several guys much bigger than him.

“Why are the women in my life all so violent?” Despite the whining tone, I could see his lips curled into a smile as he looked up at me. I rolled my eyes even as I tried to keep the smile of my face and failed. Helping him up by his arms, we sat at one of the couches before I fixed him with a death glare.

“Talk.” I growled at his questioning look. “Let’s start with how long you’ve been dead for and why you didn’t let me know you’re alive again.”

“About ten years, spent the past six months drifting in and out of medical comas and therapy.” Dad really impressed me with how nonchalant he was discussing coming back from the dead here. “It was really touch and go.”

Okay, now I feel like a heel for head butting Dad. Not his fault he’s dead and only just brought back with super science. I will chalk this up on the list of things to blame Ange for.

I patted my suddenly respectable chest, my cheeks blushing furiously.

“Ok then. Now we can talk about how I ended up in frilly PJ I’d never look at, how you ended up in the same bed as your daughter and my boob job.”

Dad’s smile got a lot more uncomfortable as he started to scratch the back of his head, laughing nervously. One of the small actions I vaguely remember him doing when Mom was mad at him.

“Let’s start with the second one. Ange helped remove your clothes and changed you into something she figured you’d like. She’d help Claudia, but her girlfriends and she were already having there so your mother let Hilda deal with them while she changed you.”

I blinked at Dad’s revelation that my mother actually helped me into my night clothes. Night clothes that didn’t include some kind of hare brained training involving fighting even when you’re asleep.

“Bullshit.”

“Nope.” My father rebutted with a smile. “Ange’s as violent as can be. But she does care for you…in her own way.”

Oh yeah, I’m very familiar with her special kind of affection alright. It involves field stripping a carbine and putting it back together twenty times after a five mile jog. And Lemon Chicken rations. Fuck lemon chicken rations and the sadist who came up with the idea with a bayonet.

“Ange changed you herself, and I think Momoka has a video of it somewhere.”

I wound my fist back.

“You better not have seen that.” I warned.

“No, of course not!” Nervous laughter from my dad again. I lowered my fist and pointed to my chest.

“The boob job and you sleeping in my bed?”

Dad’s smile became more confident and natural as he pulled me in for a hug. I kinda enjoy having him stroke the back of my head.

“Your body’s reacting to the ambient dragonium radiation. When you were first conceived, we had to retard your growth in some areas due to some medical issues you had. One of the many drawbacks of being a child of a Norma and Ancient Human I suppose.”

I filed the two unfamiliar terms away for future reference.

“And the sleeping in the same bed with your fifteen year old daughter?”

Another grin that’s somehow ticking me off.

“Can’t a father want to spend some quality time with his own girl after spending so many years dead?”

I punched him in the shoulder and spent a minute fuming.

“So you said you’re an Ancient Human and Mom’s a Norma. I heard Dr Maggie mention those terms when I met her yesterday, but what exactly do they mean?”

Dad’s grin disappeared as his lips thinned.

“That, will be a rather long and violent tale.”

Story of my life, hottie dad.

“You noticed the green light that Momoka was using for well, everything? Have you wondered why she never let it touch you or Claudia with it?”

“I’m all ears Dad.” My father nodded and went over to my dresser, pulling out a remote control. I heard the curtains being closing, blocking out the light from the windows before a large flat screen monitor descended from the ceiling. The screen flickered to life, showing a vaguely Asian woman with long brown hair in a grey suit. She stood in front of a cyan globe set on a plain white background, a robotic smile etched on her face.

“Taylor, please say hello to the Disaster Relief AI Himawari.” The simulated face of the programme gave me a wide smile, making me uneasy at how similar it looked compared to the canned pleasant expressions from service staff all over the world.

“Himawari, please display the records of World War Seven for Taylor.”

////////////x/////////////

I sat in stunned silence, looking at the ceiling while the curtains pulled apart, letting the late morning light flood in. My eyes idly roamed the large room, wandering at how it’s unfair this single suite was larger than my entire house back in Brockton Bay. All this rambling thoughts, just to avoid facing what I’ve just learnt, thanks to a video and Dad’s lecture.

“So the world ended in an apocalyptic war some five hundred sixty-eight years ago, and Mom’s ride is one of those machines that ended it?” I asked rhetorically to Dad, more concerned at the lack of horror I felt Mom piloting a doomsday weapon.

“Pretty much. Also, the whole mess that’s the Norma and the Mana people.” My father looked me over, gauging my reaction to learning about how yet another world so advanced can’t seem to get over the same issues that plagued Earth Bet.

Norma are violent, antisocial, irrational creatures. All female. Sounds like a bad sexist joke writ large made into official government policy. Until Mom came along and crashed the party anyways.

Was it bad that I found myself not caring that much? One group of bigoted assholes despite the blessings of a technology that would solve almost all the problems back on Earth Bet got what’s coming at the hands of a violent underclass they created. Sounds like a karmic punishment to me.

“That Embryo guy sounds like a major creep.” I finally said after thinking of how to break the silence. Dad’s easy grin appeared, as he leaned forward and whispered in a low voice.

“You know what your mother said about him when he tried to rape her in his dimensional stronghold?” Dad looked around, as if wary of Mom popping out of nowhere. He should be more wary of Momoka though, sneaky as she is.

“That he doesn’t know how to get it up or get the correct hole even when he got her naked and tied up. Because he’s a sad, perverted, shut in dirty old man who lived for what’s effectively a thousand years, yet was obsessed with an Ange that never was and was so mad another man got her virginity first.”

I laughed, even if I felt kinda bad about it. But only Ange Missouri Hebert would make a joke about the time she nearly got raped.

“Would that be before or after you got a face full of my naked crotch when rescuing me, Danny?”

Oh hi, Mom. Only my mother and Momoka ever managed to get the drop on me, barring the time Sophia used a goddam tranquilizer dart on me. Mom was wearing a white flight suit that showed off her cleavage for some reason. My eyes were drawn to the cable with some kind of plug at the end, hanging off her hip like a tail, Mom pinched Dad on the cheeks, growling about inappropriate behaviour regarding teenage children. The irony of Ange Hebert disapproving of someone’s parenting methods.

My mother gave me a bright smile in greeting, clearly feeling at home here on this rock before she turned her complete attention to Dad. Good for her, since I didn’t really get a choice in this matter. She can play happy family with Ms Creepy all she wants.

I snuck towards my bed while my parents were having their lover’s tiff, grabbing a fresh set of clothing laid out on the dresser that consist of the red and white uniform worn by Claudia, a pair of white knee length boots and more importantly, a holster with a pair of automatic pistols. I reached for the webbing, feeling the comforting weight of the guns and the four spare magazines full loaded in them. Pulling open one of the drawers, I grabbed seven fragmentation grenades that filled up my pouches on the webbing, and grabbed a combat knife that came with a sheath that fitted well on my belt. Next to my wallet that was had stacks of unknown currency stuffed in them was a plain envelope filled with more of these unfamiliar money and a gold ring with a brilliant green gem.

Waste not, want not. I grabbed the money and stuffed the envelope into my jacket and slid the ring onto my right hand’s ring finger.

I snuck a peak at my still bickering parents, who were now seated on the sofa with Mom sitting on my father's lap. I gagged at the public display of lovey dovey by my parents before I left the room, keeping to the walls to avoid drawing attention. I went over the SERE training in my head that Mom made me undergo as I made my way out of the mansion.

If I’m to escape, I will need to get familiar with this place after all.

///////////////x/////////////

In the late morning light, Arzenal regains a foreboding atmosphere that makes you tether on the edge. After taking the elevator down to the bottom floor, I found myself lost in a crowd of unfamiliar faces, dressed mostly in Arzenal colours. No one really paid attention to me now that I was wearing their uniform, barring a curious glance or two from the guards in their green uniforms, vests and those nasty shock batons. I even managed to learn the differing ranks among those wearing the red uniforms. The gold diamonds sewn onto their backs signify their rank. The younger lower ranked ones have a basic design, while the older women and presumably officers have extra points on the diamonds, going up to a maximum of four extra points, forming an eight pointed star-diamond hybrid symbol. Of course, Mom’s girlfriend Hilda had a basic diamond design on her jacket, but it was a brighter shade of gold compared to the others I’ve seen so far. Special status perhaps?

Wearing the basic dull diamond on my jacket allowed me to play the role of a dumb recruit to the hilt, as I gave a practiced blank look and stammering nervousness when some of the guards and older women asked which squadron I belonged to. A couple of the more nosey ones even told me to go to the second floor for processing or to find my mother, since fresh Norma from outside Arzenal gathered there. I gave a goofy smile and snapped a properly stiff salute, which usually satisfied the nosey parkers who would then tell me to run along while they attended to other business.

Apparently, I was in luck. There was something important going on, so the older Norma were not able to properly supervise a stray teen like myself. The other would be there were other sources of Norma other than Arzenal. Of course, the former was far more important to me. I reached for my guns, patting them to feel the reassuring weight before I continued to the fourth floor, where the main hangar and runway was located. I casually mingled among the gathered girls wearing red like me, giving pleasantries to a few of them to keep up the masquerade by using their names I caught from glimpses of their conversations. One thing that stood out for me was that despite the military chic Arzenal was going for, none of the girls used a recognisable last name. Very unusual for an aspiring military.

I inched forward towards the hangars, where several Norma dressed in orange overalls and white helmets were running around doing checks on several craft that resembled a hybrid of VTOL gunships and transports. The belly of the craft opened, and streams of dishevelled people in tattered civilian clothes trudged out onto the tarmac, where the guards began to separate them for processing.

“Why are there refugees here?” I muttered to myself while eyeing the awaiting transports, their engines still running. I scanned the guards that were divided between sorting out the refugees and guarding the craft, but found no opening for me to slip in. In any case, those plane like fighters in some of the hangars nearby appeared sleeker and faster, bristling with guns and possible rockets if those tubes sticking by the sides were any indication. No way in hell would I be able bust out successfully on those slow looking gunships.

I winced when I felt someone land a hand onto my right shoulder, angry at myself for failing to notice someone approaching me. I slowly got up from my crouching positon I was observing the refugees from, my hands up to show I was unarmed. I turned around to face whoever got the drop on me, and thanked my lucky stars it wasn’t a familiar face. The woman who caught me was a taller, lanky but well-built woman probably in her mid-twenties. Dark hair tied in a bun that was almost a shade of purple, sharp eyes with irises the same colour as her hair and a pair of red rimmed glasses. She stood in an easy stance, almost slouching to the side with a lazy smile on her face. I looked at the six pointed star on her chest, and started on my startled, nervous recruit act.

“Sorry Ma’am! I was just looking at the refugees to see if any of my relatives were among them!” I quivered my lips as I finished my sentence, making sure to let my tears pool up for maximum effect. It seemed to work, since Glasses Officer’s expression turned from grinning smugness to earnest sympathy. Thank you Mom, for the acting classes you insisted I attended!

“No harm done, Cadet. Name’s Medea, daughter of Salia of Mykonos Settlement.” She grinned, before pulling down my arm which was still held in a stiff salute. “What’s your name?”

“Hebert, Taylor Hebert Ma’am!” I didn’t hide my grimace as I realised I just gave out my real name to someone who might just have me locked up and thrown into a cell, but thankfully my name didn’t seem to trigger any form of recognition with this Medea. The dark haired Norma rubbed her chin, alternating glances between me and the gathered and growing refugee crowd as more transports landed and disgorged more people. As the guards moved to separate some of the girls and younger women from their families, which consisted solely of the elderly and some adult women, several shouting matches broke out. One of the refugee women was pushed to the floor, prompting her daughter who was barely eight years old to rush out from the separated children and attempt to cover the woman from the guard. I felt my rage rising at this display of brutality and almost jumped in, before I found myself being held back.

“Don’t be so eager to play hero, Taylor.”

“The name’s Hebert.” I hissed out while shaking off her hand. Medea frowned at my aggression, but merely shrugged and gave one of those all-knowing grins which I started to hate.

“Whoa there, Ms Edgy. No need to curse yourself by using your last name. Weren’t you briefed on the taboo on using last names for us Norma?”

“Name’s Hebert.” I repeated as I started to stalk towards those little fascist goons before cheesy carnival music started blaring out. I stopped at the unexpected soundtrack being played, watching in wonder as three costumed mascots approached the gathered refugees and guards. Three large teddy bears that looked like riot of green, orange and purple stitched together haphazardly with the stitching still plainly visible and a large pink tongue sticking out. The one in the middle saw the looming Norma guard standing over the fallen mother and rushed over, knocking the guard over with a single kick to the knees. The other mascots followed behind, grabbing the dazed guard by the arms and dragging her towards the side where one of the more senior guard commanders had rushed out on hearing the commotion.

The first mascot looked at the offending guard being taken in, satisfaction apparent in her pose before she knelt down to pat the head of the sobbing refugee child.

“Don’t worry about that meanie guard, little girl! Perolina won’t let anyone harm the little children!” The whimpering child looked up at the mascot that rescued her with a comical display of martial prowess, wonderment in her eyes. Children apparently aren’t too picky that their hero looks like the result of an explosion at the paint and garment factory.

“You promise, Ms Perolina?” The mascot nodded vigorously, the shaking head making some of the gathered children squeal in delight. Perolina stuck out her right paw towards the sobbing child, making me wonder why the kid wasn’t crying in fear from that hideous bear visage bearing down on her. Children have weird tastes.

“Pinkie swear!” The girl giggled in delight as she attempted to hook the finger of a stuffed costume bear, while I stood confounded as I finally linked the falsetto voice to a name.

“Claudia’s willing to go out dressed like that?” I muttered under my breath as I felt my worldview shatter at the sight of Ms Creepy gleefully playing with a powerless refugee girl while being swarmed by the kids. Guess she has some redeeming qualities after all, though it still doesn’t change the fact she’s a creepy, shameless libertine who’s into lesbian orgies and obsessed with her mother. I quickly walked away from this surreal sight, just in case the head on one of those costumes popped out to reveal Mom playing along with the children. One worldview shattering is enough for the morning, thank you very much.

“Hey Taylor, wait up!”

I turned around as I cleared the hangar into one of the many corridors, looking intently at Medea as the older Norma ran up to me.

“I thought you’re looking for your family?” She gave me a curious look, scanning me from head to toe as my hands reached for my holstered weapons. Medea’s eyebrows raised at my action, but remained silent as she continued to study me before fixing me a glare.

“You’re planning to bust out, aren’t you?”

I pointed one of my guns at her face, daring her to do something. Funny, I expected more fear of impending death from her.

“Not going to shoot, Taylor?”

“Don’t tempt me.” I grit out. “No one will ever find your body if it goes into the shoreline here.”

“Touché. But listen to me. Those transports you see there? They’re capable of going far distances, but unless you know where the hell you’re going, you’d just crash into the sea, assuming the Paramail patrols don’t disable your engines and haul you back. The Mails themselves probably can get you really far if you get the newer long range models, or even a Ragnamail. But what’s waiting for you back wherever you came from.”

“Nothing.” I spat out. “The weather’s awful most of the year. School’s hell and I’ve probably burnt my chance of a proper future with my history of violence. The people there can’t give a rat’s ass about me with only one strung out old friend of my father who’s fucking terrified of my crazy mom who sort of cares about me. Maybe.”

“So why do you want to go back there?” A good question from Medea.

I undid the safety on the pistol.

“Because my mother didn’t give me a goddam choice when she dragged me here, I played along because I wanted to see what the hell she’s been up to, and now I decided that it really has got nothing to do with me.” I kept my gun trained on Medea even as I looked around for any approaching threats, dismissing the still fresh images of the huddled, terrified masses I’ve seen being taken in by the Norma.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I want to go back to Earth Bet. More probably that I’d end up doing some kind of work here on this weird, fucked up world. At least I made the choice this time around.”

Despite the loaded weapon I had pointed at her, Medea appeared unconcerned.

“Commander Ange was correct. You really are headstrong as she is. Captain Naomi and I are going to have so much fun with you and Claudia.”

So fucking tempting to cap her. She knew all along!

“I prefer the term stubborn bitch.”

Medea shrugged, apparently unconcerned at the high velocity lead poisoning that was imminent in her future.

“In two weeks, we have an expedition back to Earth Mana where we’d be patrolling allied settlements and doing search and extraction missions on suspected Normas in the Junkie lands. During that time, you can join us on the mission, piss off back to Bet or go somewhere here on Earth Aura. Choice is yours. Only condition is that you learn to pilot a Mail by then.”

No freebies huh? Not even a ride home or elsewhere from this bunch of stingy cunts.

I glowered at the retreating form of Medea, turning her back to me who’s pointing a gun at her. I slid my trigger finger into the trigger guard.

“Looking forward to see you at the simulators or even the Mail training grounds, Taylor.”

I barely began to squeeze the trigger before a large pink tail slapped my hands, sending the rounds I’ve fired straight into the armoured walkway of the corridor, dully noting that the bullets all flattened against the metal plates instead of ricocheting.

Good to see that safety is of paramount concern here. Not. A dozen or so of the guards had by now appeared on both sides of the corridor, attracted by the sounds of gunfire with their shock batons and energy shields ready. I considered using my grenades to clear the path before Medea laid a hand on the guard commander’s shoulder before she gave the order to subdue me. I cast a wary look at the pink tail and leathery wings she was now sporting, glaring into her now reptilian eyes. Goddam DRAGON.

“It’s fine. Just a young girl going over her many, many issues with firearms and attempted violence.” I bristled at the sideway glance she gave me, reaching for my still fully loaded spare gun before several rifles aimed by the guards in my direction convinced me otherwise.

“Girl’s a Norma through and through.”

Piss off Medea! Once I get into one of those giant robots, you’re the first one I’m stomping into paste. Maybe I will wear your wings on my figurehead.

//////////////////////x/////////////////

Zhao Mei is a fine mechanic. As a matter of fact, she was the finest goddam mechanic there was that’s still alive, especially when it comes to the Mails. Only that DRAGON scientist Kaliya who built the DRAGON Ragnamails had more knowledge on Ragnamails and Mails in general, but she underwent a fancy education. Mei had to learn everything from her deceased sister and later by herself. To challenge herself, Mei routinely took apart and rebuilt Paramail parts blindfolded, just so she could get used to maintaining them in the dark.

This meant the pint sized Norma mechanic was seriously annoyed when one of the younger mechanics ran to her in a panic, babbling something about the Pegasus Ragnamail they were assembling based on the salvaged parts and blueprints of the Hysterica.

“The assembled parts have started to assemble themselves and the head is glowing!”

Ling, the mechanic who ran to her was a good kid. Hardworking and smart, but her old injuries and trauma at the hands of the Junkies back on the Mana Earth had left her with an addiction to painkillers. She was eccentric, and had last tried to install five positron cannons into a single Paramail frame, resulting in the whole machine tipping over and ending up in the ocean.

“I swear Ling. One of these days, you’re going to uncover the running engine of an active Paramail and be vaporised by two million Kelvin’s worth of dragonium energy because you’re high on medication.”

Mei entered the sealed hangar at the rear end of the reclaimed Arzenal Island, far from the main fortress Arzenal. The mechanical prodigy found herself trying to snap her jaw shut when she saw the disassembled parts of the Pegasus prototype Ragnamail strain against the chains used to restrain them, the torso and head of the machine glowing a brilliant gold.

“Someone inform the Commander. Pegasus may have just found her new mistress.”

////////////////////////////

A/N: So Taylor gets a first-hand experience of waking up next to a handsome, mysterious half naked guy in Hotel Sunrise!

Next up! Someone drops into a cockpit- or maybe not.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Interlude 2- The People of Mana

/////////////////x/////////

Sophia looked out of the window while that doofus Gladys went about droning on about how Parahumans have changed humanity blah something Scion something Endbringer. The track star didn’t bother being soft as she yawned loudly before looking at the grey overcast pall that’s the Brockton Bay sky. Idly, she traced circles with her finger over the surface of the desk she had requisitioned. Being held back for winter class over the break had been a real pain, but at least she got a chance to scrap with Taylor again.

Taylor Hebert. The pile of firewood that tries so hard to prevent itself from becoming the glorious bonfire she was meant to be, but for some reason harbours some delusion that she can ever be normal. Like those disgusting sheep beneath their feet. Fighting with her had been fun. The way her stealthy punches in the corridors would get blocked then returned all in a single move before she’d try to key her face. It sends a chill down her spine when anticipating their next bout. Most of the small time criminals she had taken down and tagged were desperate men, driven to petty crime and not so petty crime for a sense of inflated self-worth for their pathetic lives. Prey who pretended to be predators.

The Hebert girl on the other hand was the rarest of creatures- the predator who denies her own nature and tells the others to fuck off, like she does with the gangs. She never fails to have a smile on her face when she once observed Taylor take a loose piece of asphalt to the face of an Empire recruiter who called her a race mixed mongrel and her mother a coal burning whore. The other Wards tend to give her weird looks when she daydreams about that scene during some particularly boring briefings especially that sanctioned jailbait Vista.

“Soph, Mr Gladys is calling for you.”

Sophia turned her half opened eyelids towards Madison, a particularly annoying hanger on she has little use for. Gladys was now flapping his gums about something education and respect for others. Bitch, you want respect, show that you deserve it. Sophia had once met Hebert’s mother when she attended a PTA meeting on the insistence of the school administration. She never saw Blackwell shake before like she did in the presence of the blonde woman. Despite attending the little meet and greet in a grey jacket, skirt and heels combo complete with a pearl necklace, no one mistook the older Hebert for some hard done single mother.

Taylor’s mom gave her the same vibe she felt from the likes of Oni Lee and Hookwolf. Dangerous people who have plenty of blood on their hands and aren’t afraid to cake on some more.

Oh, Gladys is trying to assert his non-existent authority on her. Boo fucking hoo.

“Ladies. Gonna take a piss now.”

Most of the class broke into laughter at this while the off costume Ward slouched out of the class. The usual rift raff in Winslow were just not worth her time to be having her adrenaline running. And to think she’s gone for only less than two days. As Sophia approached the main gate of the school for a day of truancy, her phone- the other none PRT monitored phone buzzed with an unfamiliar ringtone. Sophia’s eyebrows raised as she realised someone had hacked her personal phone and wasn’t afraid to show her.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Straight to the point I see. But I suppose I can hardly expect more out of some lowborn who is not far removed from the Norma.”

Sophia decided the pompous bitch with that annoying accent on the other end needed to die. But getting more information out of her before she pumped her full of crossbow bolts is always a good idea.

“Again, I repeat in case having your nose stuck in the air had cut off the oxygen to your brain. Who. The. Fuck. Are. You.”

An alarm beeped on her PRT phone, prompting her to look at the latest text message. Sophia scrolled through the message and the attached files and links to the internet within.

“You bitch.” Sophia growled at the attached evidence of her involvement in the Taylor Hebert case and several other vigilante mishaps gone wrong, in sum more than enough to have her charged in an adult court. The video with her family surrounded by armed men didn’t help either.

“Hardly the way to be speaking to your new employer, Shadow Stalker. I have your family and gear all packed up and ready to move as we speak. You can either follow my associate waiting outside the school gates, or you can wait for the PRT squad van to escort you to a nice holding cell.”

“Goddam shit cunt!” The black parahuman swore as the line went dead. Sophia swept out of the hall in a hurry, surveying the scene outside Winslow’s unhallowed halls before she saw a fancy black SUV parked outside the school. A white woman with severe features, thin lips and long wavy black hair in a suit looked at her, her face obscured by a large pair of sunglasses. The now wanted Ward glared at the suited goon as she opened one of the doors for her, before she made her way into the waiting vehicle. As the doors clicked shut after her escort entered the vehicle, Sophia’s body tensed as the woman took out an auto injector gun with a syringe filled with some kind of green liquid.

“It’s not for you.” The suited woman said as she injected the green liquid into her neck. “The dosage of liquid dragonium is too strong for your body to adjust to.”

Sophia felt a tad queasy as the face of the woman changed, with her hair becoming straight and lips turning full. The sunglasses went off as the former Ward saw her irises changed from brown to purple. The transformed woman took out a cosmetic mirror and nodded in approval at her changed face.

“It honestly galls me to wear the face of a dead woman, but this form does have certain advantages.”

The suited woman stretched out her hand for a shake, wearing a shark like smile.

“When I’m wearing this face, call me Jill.” Sophia felt the hand of Jill clamp onto her own, the grip feeling like a vice.

“Tell me Sophia. Have you piloted a giant robot before?”

/////////////////////////////////////x///////////////

Emily Piggot hissed as she pressed down on the cut delivered by some kind of praying mantis stingray hybrid had delivered to her gut, lying flat on her back. An entire company strength of PRT troopers- gone. And the damn capes had fled, leaving them to die to Nilbog’s creations. The blonde agent stared at her expended submachine gun, reaching for more ammo before realising she had spent the last one. Her vision fading from the lost blood, Piggot eyed the gathering monsters that were stalking her position before she checked her weapon again.

Well, apparently not all rounds are spent. Still one more left in the chamber, perfect for herself. The agent pressed the still hot nozzle against her chin and squeezed.

Nothing. The round had jammed. Emily’s steel blue eyes glared at the gathering abominations in contempt, wanting to be defiant to the end. Then she heard the roar of turbines overhead coupled with the screams of machinegun fire. Concentrated gunfire poured down on Nilbog’s creatres, ripping them to pieces before a streak of light that glowed red and white tore into the disoriented monsters. Piggot felt the heat from the weapons even as her hearing was drowned in the noise of gunfire and machine and the brilliant glow of the energy weapon made her temporarily blinded. As she blinked out the dancing sparks in her vision, Piggot felt a strong pair of arms drag her onto a seat of some kind of bike. Her recovering vision soon revealed a woman dressed in grey fatigues and a pink face covering visor. Golden blonde hair down to her shoulders were stuffed under a green beret, while she felt her saviour inject something into her. Immediately, she felt her breathing ease up and a surge of energy as she sat up. The woman removed her visor, revealing deep red eyes and fashion model good looks underneath.

“You’re Ange of Tusked Angel. Why are you here in North America?” Emily had heard and seen of the duo back when she was in boot camp. Emily felt her heart sink as she considered the incredible tech used. “You triggered?”

“Emily, considering how cross I am all the time, the only triggers I have are the ones I pull to collect my pay.”

So Ange remembers her from the days she acted as a liaison in the military .Good to know. Also good to know humans didn’t have to rely on capes all the time.

“I’ve got a dozen or so survivors I’ve picked up on my way to rescue you. Someone up there paid good money for you people.”

Emily felt a seat belt tighten around her waist before the hoverbike she was on began ascending.

“You owe me big time for this Emily. The money paid doesn’t even begin to cover the cost of the weapons I’ve used for this mission.”

//////////////////x//////////////////

Director Piggot’s eyes snapped open as she realised she had dozed off while undergoing dialysis. An unusual enough experience considering the unpleasant nature of the treatment.

“For me to remember the past like this. Ange, you create a lot of trouble for me to clean up.”

That the PRT and the US government used freelance Tinkertech mercs were not something that’s widely known or even discussed. Emily however considered them to be a step above parahumans. Especially teams like Tusked Angel who were active before the advent of Scion since they served as a reminder when things used to make sense. The director then flipped the pages of the file she had over the latest incident. A single suspected Tinker had raided an ABB workshop to recover what’s likely her equipment. Piggot had directed Armsmaster and Miss Militia to concerntrate on policing the likely fallout, while she would work behind the scenes to have any investigation of the “Tinker” buried.

“This had better count a hell lot in covering my debt to you, Ange.”

The obese PRT director closed her eyes again, placing the file on the side, Between cleaning up after Ange and dealing with the shit storm from Shadow Stalker being both outed AND revealed to be involved in a lot more excessive violence than expected, she needed all the rest she can get.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.8 Mom

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Failure really gnaws at you, especially when it’s in a place like Arzenal where the atmosphere feels like it’s actively doing its best to break you down. I made my way down to bottom floor of the base, following the crowd of refugees and several of the DRAGON girls that walked like they owned the place. Changers and Case 53s were unusual even in a cape heavy place like Brockton Bay, so their tiny wings on their backs and pink tails caught my interest. Anything really other than a reminder that I was again swept up in events beyond my control, whether it was life back in BB or here in Arzenal.

As I cleared the guard posts beyond a massive cave, my eyes squinted at the sudden onslaught of sunlight once the rocky roof gave way to a clear blue sky. I felt the beginnings of that sticky layer of sweat forming on my skin and removed the jacket, allowing the breeze to caress my exposed arms and back. As the crowds thinned the further I left Arzenal base behind, I used my hands to shield myself from the sunlight. Despite the glare, the heat from the sun wasn’t oppressive, especially when combined with the gentle breeze. My pace slowed as I wandered further from the maddening crowds, towards massive green meadows that seemed to stretch forever while ignoring the concrete paved road that lead into a built up town in the distance,

I ambled aimlessly within the rolling green grass that swayed in the wind, allowing the wind and sun to envelope me. It was quiet, in contrast to the bustle of Arzenal where there’s always someone in a corner, kept on edge by the regimentation of the place. Compared to the average shiftless student at Winslow, the Norma were focused in their movement, direct in their manners. Even Claudia when she’s being a brat, wannabe bully or a creep is refreshingly blunt and direct compared to the innuendo and backbiting of Emma or her clique. I laid down my jacket into a makeshift pillow, before lying down on the soft, inviting turf. I realised at the back of my head that this was the first time I’ve felt the touch of grass without engaging in some form of simulated warfare or training, but the grass in Brockton would probably be stained with all kinds of litter from syringes to spent casings. Not to mention the ground is hard as hell and the colour is all off, so not fertile ground for spending an idyllic day.

“Hard to imagine that this world would be deadly to most humans back on Bet.”

I brushed aside my musings and closed my eyes, basking in the inviting combination of rustling grass, soft ground and warm light, until I felt a damp, cold metal can press again my forehead. My eyes flicked open, gazing into the smiling face of my mother as she pressed a soft drink can against me as she plopped herself next to me on the grass. From here, it almost looks as if she was simply a caring but unwitting mother rather than someone whose response to slights would be to blow up a place with C4. To be fair, I’ve never seen her blow up any place but she certainly is very proficient with explosives for someone who allegedly doesn’t use them on a regular basis.

Behind mommy dearest stood the sulking form of Claudia sans her two followers, with Momoka nowhere to be seen. But she’s probably somewhere just out of sight, lurking. Claudia was wearing some kind of dancer’s outfit, all glittery beige, tight and body hugging a hue of hot pink with sashes hanging from it while her face was caked with makeup. This being Arzenal, she still had a leather holster with a pistol and a sheathed bayonet. Girl sure can change fast at least, considering she was in that ridiculous mascot costume not long ago. Mom herself was still in the pure white pilot suit, boob window and all, grinning while she laid down next to me. I frowned at her intrusion into my personal time, but sighed as I took the drink from my forehead.

“So what is it this time? CQC? Dashing across the open field under simulated fire? Bomb making and disposal?”

Mom’s grin remained plastered on her face.

“None of that today. Just some quality time with my girls with some home videos if you’re up for it.” I snorted as I pulled on the fabric of her pilot suit. “Aren’t you supposed to be putting on a dog and pony show featuring giant robots today?”

Huh, Creepy’s face twitched as I mentioned the R-word. Good for her. Mom of course takes a lot more to actually rattle.

“Salako and the main entourage got delayed because Aura apparently found some newly mutated species of otter and wants to study it. So the event’s delayed.”

“Huh.” I answered while trying to get my mother to take the hint I wanted to be left alone to sulk in peace. Somehow, Claudia seems to be feeling the same way by the look of her face. She must be really moody if she’s not thinking of humping my mother’s leg.

“Commander, permission to resume my duties in assisting in the processing of the new refugee arrivals.” Mom yanked her down by the arm, prompting a yelp of surprise from my unwanted half-sister.

“Denied. Look Claudia, when we’re not on duty, call me Mom alright.” My redheaded step child of a sister’s face stiffened, as if calling her mother something other than her job title in her presence would kill her. Hey, maybe I can get her to say it! C’mon Claudia. Mooom. That’s the M sound, drag the O sound and then the M again! Mooom!

“I…I can’t. Sorry Commander.” Geeze, Claudia actually looks pitiable and mousy when she doesn’t have her two fucktoys backing her up, standing there rubbing her neck. Something happened that gave her some trauma? Failed to disarm a makeshift bomb and got a face full of ink to remind her how she’s a bad little terrorist for failing to disarm a simulated IED like I did? Maybe the bomb Mom made for her spawned some kind of boxing glove that nailed her in the throat! That would be fun to see.

“Never mind, Claudia, “Mom patted the empty space next to her side with a gentle smile, which I never saw unless I was delirious with fever. At least, I think it is. Could just be a hallucination from my mind frying sunny side up due to the fever though, since Mom would be next to me in that dream, face sick with worry while yelling at doctors to cure me.

Claudia sat down, folding her legs inside as she did. Somehow, I think I preferred her when she’s barely restraining herself with religious ecstasy in the presence of my mother, rather than being all sullen and nervous. Was whatever she was supposed to do giving her such a major case of the nerves? I cast a sceptical eye at my mother as she laid down between the two of us, wondering what her angle is. I swear if she’s thinking of a grappling session, I’m so shooting her.

Mom laid down, her hands behind her head. I thought of just getting the hell out and find some other corner of this island, but in the end I laid down too, curious to see what hare-brained scheme my mother came up with this time round. The ensuing silence for the three of us was comfortable, but tt didn’t take too long before Mom shot us a question.

“Taylor, Claudia. What do you know of the Light of Mana?”

“Something Momoka uses to do the chores with.”

“A technology based on perfect information replication that solved humanity’s problems but is also a symbol of oppression for us Norma.”

Huh, trust the teacher’s pet to give the standard textbook answer. Mom raised her left hand in front of her, staring at her ring with the green gem embedded on it. I snuck a glance at the ring I found this morning that looks like a replica of Mom’s and saw that Claudia wore one as well.

“The Light of Mana blessed all of humanity. Perfect replication of information that resolved hunger, energy and the long issue of scarcity.” Momoka chose this time to make herself known to us, carrying that wicker basket that carries all the goodies. The maid laid down the basket in front of us, before she spread her right palm at it.

“Light of Mana!”

That same green light again engulfed the basket before it another ball of light split from it and produced yet another wicker basket. Mom opened both of them, plucked out grapes from each basket and tossed one from each bunch towards me and Claudia. I hesitated before I bit down into the fruit from the duplicate basket, then tried the other original grape.

“I can’t tell the difference.” I marvelled at this display of technological prowess.

If this technology were to be revealed in Earth Bet, a lot of the problems plaguing humanity would vanish overnight.

“Perfect information replication is just as the name implies. Everything that made up the object, from the past, the myriad futures it could be and everything that was used in making it is discovered, manipulated and duplicated by the Light. When one can make a perfect copy of resources, then fighting over something that’s perfectly infinite seemed silly doesn’t it. But of course, the Light didn’t just solve the problem of scarcity. It also solved the issue of people not understanding one another. The Light of Mana allowed two people to understand each other perfectly if both parties would just connect. No more misunderstandings, no more fights and quarrels because both sides understands the other perfectly well.”

I heard familiarity breeds contempt and thus beg to differ but eh, whatever.

Mom’s left hand came down, her voice laced with bitterness as she continued.

“A gentler, kinder humanity. One that does not desire war and conflict, seeking only to better the future of mankind thanks to the perfect protective shell of Mana society.” Momoka’s face was decidedly uncomfortable while Claudia’s face was twisted into an angry scowl. Seems like this is something that’s a sore point for Normas. Dad’s lecture barely touched on how exactly Norma-Human oppression worked, since he never spent any time within Mana society.

“This was the kind of society I was born in.” Mom’s red eyes fixed on me, making me feel self-conscious. She was very good at doing that, “What has Tusk told you about my past.”

“Dad said you were some kind of princess.” Even my father seemed to have vague information on her life before Mom met him.

“To be specific, the Imperial Princess and next heir to the throne of the Empire of Misurugi.” Momoka took out a tablet computer from her apron, handing it over to her mistress. The maid pointedly looked away before turning her back to us and leaving. Whatever was inside, she wasn’t supposed to be seeing it. Or maybe it was something that really upset her.

“Claudia, pay attention to this video. You’ve never seen it before.”

Mom opened a video file, laying down the tablet on the ground for the two of us to have a closer look while she closed her eyes. There was a parade and there was an open air car that floated off the ground with glowing rims at where the wheels were supposed to be. A much younger version of Mom sat in the middle of the vehicle, wearing a purple and red robe, with a headdress with gold sewn into it. She waved at the adoring crowds, while her full name and portrait was strung over the streets in large banners congratulating her on her coming of age at sixteen years old.

Mom’s eyes remained closed as she continued speaking. From her pained expression, it looks as if she was reliving the day. I’ve never seen her quite so solemn. Furious, yes. Hysterical and broken down, yes like when Dad died. But this grim resignation and stoic behaviour? Never. Claudia’s pensive look signals to me she’s feeling the same way. .

“Of the six people in that car with me on that fateful day, all but three are dead and I’m not sure if my sister Sylvia is still alive. The older woman and the older man with blonde hair? Jurai and Sophia Misurugi. My parents who hid the fact that I was a Norma from me all throughout my life by having Momoka do everything for me and the taboo on the royal family’s heir using the Light before their coming of age. This taboo incidentally was the reason why my brother Julio, that fop in the video was disinherited.”

An alarm went off in the video, and Mom looked lost before the older woman opened the glass case she was kept in beneath that massive structure while chaos broke out in the gathered crowd. The camera then switched to the main entrance of the palace, where Mom and the older woman, Sophia, were surrounded by armed police. Mom pulled out a knife and charged one of the guards holding a rifle who fired, before her mother cast a wall made of that green light, which shattered on impact and the round went through.

Well, it is not everyone who gets to watch their grandmother get shot and bleed out like me. I almost wanted to avert my eyes as I saw Mom being cuffed and pulled away from her mother’s corpse yelling hysterically, the blood of the fallen body staining the pink dress beneath the purple coat.

“In hindsight, it is almost karmic, the fate that befell me. Mother pushed me behind her when she blocked the bullet, and my being a Norma may have very well caused her shield to break.” Mom stood up and brushed the grass from her suit, red eyes flicking open while staring into the sky.

“Karmic?” I almost didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Just a day before, I met my first Norma in my entire life. She was a child, barely a year old. I saw swarms of police snatching it away from the mother, placing it into a transparent plastic box.”

“It?” I growled out at my mother’s choice of pronouns.

“Staying in character, Taylor. Also to ensure I do not forget or distance myself from what I did on that day.”

Mom’s face changed, to an expression that was both serene and worshipful. The words that left her lips however, were anything but.

“This child is a Norma, violent, anti-social by-products of human Mana society and a soul untouched by the Light of Mana.” I trembled in fury as Mom’s hands clasped in prayer, while I saw her soulful, doe eyes fall on me much like how it fell on this woman whose child my mother hand condemned for the misfortune of her birth.

“You should have another child. A proper human child and forget about this one.”

I didn’t notice my fist until it had connected with her face, drawing blood and sending her sprawling.

“Claudia, stop!”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Claudia pointing her pistol at me, trigger finger resting within the trigger guard while her body shook and her eyes spoke of murder.

“Cadet Claudia Schlievogt! Stand down!” Mom’s command voice travels well despite her being face deep in grass and turf.

“Yes Ma’am.” My half-sister grudgingly holstered her side-arm, still sending murderous glares coming my way. Mom took no chances, removing the pistol from Claudia as she recovered from the blow I gave her.

Mom rubbed the swelling cheek and bloody lip I had given her as she retrieved the tablet I had flipped over on my way to punch my mother, opening another file.

Norma #1203-77- Ange (Processing)

“Just say stop if you want me to.”

The file began to play. For the first time, I understood what historians were saying when using the term dehumanisation.

I ran over a distance away and began hurling when the video showed my mother’s clothes torn up with a knife and she was pressed down on an inspection table. As I never said stop, I heard Mom’s screams and the sound of metal meeting flesh interspersed with the roar of thunder while the video kept playing. I turned back to face my mother and sister once the noise ceased, trudging back to seat at the spot I had abandoned seconds ago due to being sick at a display of wanton cruelty. What kind of fucked up system did she suffer under?

“So Mom, what’s the point of all this? You want me to show some sympathy for how you became such a mess?”

I glared at my mother who remained silent. Not just the normal I didn’t hear you silence. It was the “I just realised I messed up big time and I’m at a loss for words kind”.

“Well, you’ve got my sympathy. Now what?” Is this the part where we are supposed to kiss and make up?”

“I showed you all this, so that you may learn the kind of world I was born in and a glimpse of how things were before you were born. I never taught you your heritage, nor informed you of my past. You deserve to know the truth. Your father and I once contemplated living on Earth Bet quietly, raising you there. But circumstances and Claudia being born didn’t allow me to do so.”

Mom looked haggard as she looked at me, her usual vibrancy and manic energy gone while her tone was soft.

“For all it’s worth, Taylor. I’m sorry I was not there for you.”

I stood up and grabbed Mom by her suit, yanking her to her feet before yelling into her face.

“I don’t want your sorry or know your past! I want my mother back! I don’t care if you’re unhinged and cannot function in normal society! I don’t give a rat’s ass your method of dealing with the school involved midnight visits in a mask and threats of bodily harm! I don’t even care that you didn’t tell me about your fucked up past till now when you tried to dump it on me! I can’t even give a single, flying fuck that you’re involved in two, three, and infinity relationships with men, a woman or some kind of freaky lizard human hybrid!”

I wound back my right hand and delivered another backhand while I continued yelling. Mom remained silent at my barrage.

“I only want my mother back! I want the Mom who carried me down the mountain and sat outside my room! I want the harried, manic Mom who taught me the song in a language I don’t even understand! The one who has nostalgic laughter when seeing recruits in old army videos being run ragged by their DI! I want the mom who swam with me in the goddam freezing waters of the Bay and did sit ups in the rising tide! I want my mother Ange Hebert who took a fucking bullet to the shoulder while driving off some home invaders! I want to know you won’t just run off to god knows where and disappear on me again!”

My right hand closed into a fist as it wound back for another go. Mom then broke my grip on her suit and shoved me behind her, before I heard sharp metal tear fabric and flesh, a warm liquid suddenly flooding my chest.

Mom collapsed like a puppet with strings cut, red blood over the white fabric of her chest with the handle of a bayonet sticking out of it... Claudia stood there, stunned and mouth agape with her hands still stained with Mom’s blood before she turned tail and ran.

Oh fuck no! You’re not dying on me until you’ve atoned for all you’ve done! I didn’t try running away only for you to die on me! You don’t die on runaway kids, you stupid bitch! You chase them!

“I just said to not leave me, damn it! Can’t you understand something so fucking simple!” I panicked as I saw the blood bubble around the blade, signalling possible damage to the lungs. I screamed for Momoka even as I tried desperately to stem the flowing blood and recall all the first aid lessons Mom had taught me. What’s that she mentioned about stab wounds to the heart with the blade fully inside the victim’s chest?

Prepare to inform the next of kin if help is not available. Find a good undertaker. Something about the knife.

My heart fell as I saw the breathing of my mother slow, and in a panic I plucked out the knife and realised what a horrible, horrible mistake it was as the blood loss got worse and the colour of her lips paled. I pressed against the wound, crying out for Dad and Momoka as I felt something build up inside me.

The dam broke, and I felt it leave me towards Mom.

A glowing light, and the blood flowed back into the chest wounds which disappeared as it closed. The red stained bayonet lost the fresh coating of crimson before my eyes as I literally saw a lethal wound delivered to my mother get undone. All the technobabble that the redhead Maggie was throwing at me finally made sense, along with my Mom’s unusually bizarre, even for her, behaviour. I fixed a stare at Mom as her eyes regained focus before they landed on me. My mother smelled of oil, sunlight and grass as she hugged me.

“So you really did shoot me? In the chest?”

I felt my mother stiffen, before she nodded, her chin knocking against my shoulder. Well at least she isn’t repeating it with a literal cheer this time round. Maybe this island is making her sane? Arzenal. Come for the dragons, robots and gun wielding sci-fi Amazons. Stay for the therapy.

“So why did you take that knife for me if you know I’d just come back?” It’s telling that Mom took a longer while than usual to answer. I was expecting her to shoot from the hip and revert to form. Her crazy, bomb throwing form.

“I… honestly don’t know.” Mom pulled away from the hug and looked at me, her cheeks stricken with tears. She was rubbing my face with a handkerchief she pulled out of her suit when she continued.

“I guess, seeing my mother die again did the trick.”

Sophia Misurugi? Thanks for brining my mother to the verge of sanity! Though you presided over a society full of sheep-like racist cuntbags so I’m deducting most of your saintly grandmother points. Can’t really enjoy a platter of your cookies if the ovens are fuelled by the fat of six million deceased Norma after all.

Wow, a holocaust joke! Nice one, Taylor. I’ll fit right in at Arzenal.

“I’m…not going to forgive you for capping me, though I am grateful your decision to implant this time power thing in me allows me to literally come back from the dead by undoing it.” Hey, what can I say? Shit’s useful as hell. One minute some scrub had double tapped me, the next bam! Scrub gets headshot because I respawned! Of course, Mom team-killing me really hurt.

“But…” Wow, Mom actually flinched when I was telling her I didn’t forgive her.

“It’s a start. A tentative one, but it’s one.” Fair’s fair. You shoot me to “save” me from some goon and my power brings me back to life by reversing it. You take a stab in the heart aimed at me and I reversed it. Evens Stevens. Except for the time you took a bullet to the shoulder when driving off those gangbangers, but you probably forgot about that little episode.

“Thanks Taylor.” A sloppy kiss in the forehead from mommy dearest and another bear hug. Now you’re scaring me Mom. Most times you hug me to get a better grip for some kind of leg lock or over shoulder throw onto the mat during CQC training. After she was done showing affection, Mom let go of me while I wiped my cheeks stained with her tears.

Yes, her tears. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

“Momoka.” Just like that, Mom’s maid appeared from behind a ridge with that holographic display still visible in front of her. That Light of Mana thing sure is useful.

“Lady Angelise. I’ve informed Ms Emma about Lady Claudia’s…mishap. Ms Hilda and Mr Tusk has been informed through her, as have Ms Vivian. No one else knows about this.”

I felt a twinge of buried anger resurface at the mention of my former bestie, but decided that Emma’s a common enough name to not have a visceral reaction over it. After all, dead Nazi grandma who died protecting the equivalent of a Jewish daughter had Sophia’s name and she isn’t black. Great, now I have the mental image of Sophia fucking Hess in the black SS officer’s uniform.

Mom nodded, before she turned to me with a ghost of a smile. Mom, stop doing that. Subtlety isn’t really you.

“Taylor, I know it’s very difficult, but can you let me settle the issue of Claudia?” Oh boy. Is this going where I think it’s going?

“Mom, I know you took the knife for me and all, but she was aiming for me. I can’t have someone who tried to kill me running around free.”

My mother froze a bit, before she let out a sigh.

“Taylor. Claudia wasn’t aiming for you.” She picked at the whole in her pilot suit as she spoke. “Going by the speed she charged and the fact she unsheathed her bayonet after I had shielded you, I think she was primarily going for me.”

“What?” I felt my brain locking in confusion. “But Creepy worships the ground you walk on. She has a little doll of you that she carries around!”

“Doll?” Mom groaned as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Well at least she knows something that might have set off Ms Creepy.

“This explains a lot actually. Thank you Taylor. I have an unstable daughter to bring to heel now.”

Which one are you referring to, Mom? My mother’s ring began to glow and I saw a white and gold fighter jet and bike combo appear right above her. The Vilkiss in her jet form, though she appears a lot bigger than I imagined. Guess perspective matters a lot. The sealed cockpit retracted, revealing a bike seat which Mom hopped onto. I was about to walk off when Mom began revving the engine before she yelled out to me above the hum of the mech’s engine.

“Word of advice on dealing with people who tried to kill you, Taylor. If I had went after everyone who tried to kill me one time or another, you’d have never been born.” Mom’s expression then changed to a pensive one again after dispensing that pearl of wisdom.

“You going to be home for dinner?”

Wow Mom, projection much? I’m more afraid of you running away. /Or doing something crazy again but that’s a given really. I looked at her apprehensive look, one that appears very foreign when it’s on the face of Ange “El Loco” Missouri Hebert.

“Sure, have Momoka set the table for me.” Mom’s look of joy had my heart skipping a beat. Why can’t she be like this more of the time?

“Great! See you tonight honey!” I watched as the transformed robot took to the sky, flying off in the direction where my stabby sister had ran off to. I gazed at my red stained uniform and hands, the blood of my mother still warm. Guess the reversal effect doesn’t affect everything, or maybe it’s something to do with the state of my mind? Did I somehow want a reminder of the time Mom took a stabbing for me? I shrugged off the question regarding the effects of my power, walking towards the paved road leading to the settlement in the distance before I heard soft footsteps trailing behind me.

“Momoka, I want some time alone.” I continued my walk towards the paved roads, watching buses that looked like they’ve been salvaged from a scrapyard, refurbished and given a fresh coat of paint travelling through and fro the town and Arzenal base. The sound of footsteps had vanished, but I still felt Momoka’s presence at the back of my head. Hey, guess my situational alertness has improved if I can track a ninja maid!

“Just…don’t interfere unless you deem it an immediate threat to me,”

“Yes, Lady Taylor.” I spun around to catch a glimpse of my mom’s elusive maid, only to see nothing but grass, blue skies and mounds and ridges around me. Where the hell did that damn maid hide herself?! I shivered briefly before walking towards the paved road, intend on hailing down one of the buses travelling towards the town.

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Despite the age of the buses, the ride was comfortable as I boarded the vehicle and paid for my fare out of the currency I had requisitioned from the drawer this morning. The reaction of the driver was amusingly blasé considering an armed teenager had just walked onto his vehicle. Maybe Norma sporting blood on their clothes isn’t that unusual a sight around here? What was unusual was that the driver had been, of all things an adult- a male adult. Advanced in years and wizened for sure, but a male adult nonetheless. Other than my dad, I didn’t spot another single male child, much less an adult in Arzenal thus far.

“Just an old man well past his productive years wanting to live out his life in peace, Ma’am. Considering that I have two Norma daughters born into my family and the state of the old Earth, living there isn’t an option for me.”

Further questions to him were ignored as he pointed to a sign above his seat telling passengers not to speak to the driver while he’s on the road. Annoyed at the display of overworked grouchiness from him, I settled into for a rather uneventful ride into town. A few of the more curious passengers sneaked furtive glances at the Norma in the bloody uniform, but the rest of them pointedly ignored me. What was clear is the sense of dread from the rest of the passengers on-board. All of them were dressed in civilian clothes, most of which were visibly worn and sewn up. A few children even cried when they exchanged glances with me, hiding in the embrace of their mothers. Among the adults, the only men were also very old men like the driver was. Where had all the younger adult men gone to?

I approached one of the mothers with two young girls and didn’t get any closer when I saw the family shake in fear as I got nearer. Is this how being a feared and despised minority feels?

“Hey.” I almost regretted the gruff greeting on seeing the two girls bury their heads deeper into their mother’s bosom. Their mother, a woman in her thirties with stringy brown hair and a harried look gave me a very strained smile. I extended my right hand for a shake, giving what I hoped was a friendly enough smile and not simply showing my teeth. The mother took my extended hand shakily, before hastily withdrawing from me.

“Hello, Ms Norma.” She gave a pointed look to my blouse and bloody hand, her grip on her kids visibly tightening. “My two girls have been tested by Ms Bronson. I’ve already given up my eldest daughter since she is one of you. Please, don’t take my other two kids away.”’

“Firstly, I’m not Ms Norma. I’m Taylor and I’m a human just like you.” I said testily, causing the woman to tremble while muttering a string of apologies. Okay Taylor, calm down. Just because the local racists act like you’re the goddam bogeyman doesn’t mean you have to blow up at them. They just literally don’t know any better.

“Secondly, what do you mean give up? Did Arzenal take them from you?” I swear if Mom allows this shit to go down on her watch, I’m so shooting every last one of those sci-fi prison lesbians. The woman looked at me quizzically, like a lion just expressed a preference for tofu over munching on fresh carcasses.

“No, my eldest was a Norma. She can’t live with us anymore, so we gave her up to you people when a troop of Norma raided our town so she can be with her own kind.”

The sound of hissing as the bus brakes were applied drowned out my growling as I looked upon these Mana people with contempt. There were at least ten other women and five older men on board, but not a single one of them dared looked in my direction while the mother and her children started pleading as I allowed my anger to show. These are the pathetic sheep that so oppressed Mom and the Norma for generations?

“Hey!”

I turned to the source of the voice, seeing a woman in her mid-twenties dressed in blue overalls over a white t-shirt. Long flowing pink hair tied up in twin side ponytails dolled up to resemble cat’s ears, fair skin and blue eyes. Ms Kitty looked at me from the entrance of the bus.

“This bus is for the Manaist families of the newly discovered Norma. You’re not supposed to be here.” Kitty then turned her glare to the driver. “Next time, don’t stop for every wandering Norma on the island okay?”

I stomped out of the bus, pushing past Ms Kitty before I did something crazy. I was barely ten feet from the bus before I heard her shout a warning.

“Taylor, Duck!”

I dropped to the floor and rolled further into the sidewalk, just in time for a pink dragon with a backpack tied to the neck to swoop down past where I was standing only mere seconds ago. Up close, the pink dragons look pretty big, far larger than the medium sized sedans I had initially pegged them for. The lizard landed on the hind feet, just a few feet away from me while its long neck and snout sniffed the air before it looked down at me.

“Kyuu?”

Oh come on! Pink dragons have no reason to sound so goddam adorable. The way it cocked the head while looking at me with golden eyes that brimmed with curiosity before it extended the head towards me. I pointed my gun at it, but the lizard ignored my weapon, licking me with the forked tongue before nuzzling me with her snout.

“Hey, quit it!” I recognised her as the dragon Mom called Vivian whom I first met during my initial arrival on this world. I felt another hand pulling me up while the lizard was busy nuzzling me, making me giggle. Kitty hair gave me a friendly smile as she helped me up from the ground, while I continued to stroke the neck of this dragon. I wonder if Mom will let me keep a pet dragon. The lizard kept screaming that high pitched screech that sounded impossibly cute, making me laugh some more. This genuine, spontaneous friendliness was delightful. Kitty hair unstrapped backpack from the dragon’s neck as she lowered her head, pulling out a red pilot’s uniform before she patted the scaly head of Vivian.

“All right, Vivian. You can transform back now.”

Seeing an almost eighteen feet winged pink lizard transform into a woman with short red hair, sun kissed skin and yellow reptilian eyes was fascinating, seeing how the mass just seemingly disappeared as it shrunk. Vivian rapidly put on the uniform, before she took latched onto me in a leaping hug.

“Quiz time! Who is Vivian’s most adorable, most surly and anti-social kid but still loved favourite niece anyway!” That smile she wore and the sense of boundless optimism she exuded was infectious, as I felt my chest warm up by her cheerful presence.

“Not me.” The redhead’s cheeks puffed up, before she blew me a raspberry. Despite myself, I laughed at her antics.

“Bzzt! Wrong answer! It’s you! Taylor!” Her smile was so wide her eyes disappeared into slits, but I found myself returning it as the sour mood I was carrying evaporated at this bundle of joy made flesh before me. Strange to think I’ve laughed more since arriving here in one and a half days than the entire past year and a half after Emma fell out with me. The redhead then turned her bright expression towards Kitty hair, who gave a long suffering sigh as she stuffed the backpack towards Vivian.

“Naomi, I’m hungry! Let’s go to your place so Ersha can prepare something to eat!” So she’s that smug bitch Medea’s boss? Figures my luck was unlucky enough to run into her.

“Freeloading again? You’re horrible, Vivian. Not even the three kids I have with Ersha are this shameless.” Vivian’s hungry smile suggested that she’s eaten all the fucks she has to give and is now hungry for more. Naomi then looked at me with a more welcoming smile than she had previously when she took me off the bus.

“Taylor, right? You wanna join us? On the house and we can probably wash that blood off your uniform too.”

“Not my uniform.” I replied testily.” It was the only clean clothes available, and it helps me to blend in.” I looked Naomi straight in the eye, but her expression remained as cheerful as before.

“Just so you know, Captain. I’m no Norma. I’m human. Hue Man.”

“Whatever you say, Taylor.” Kitty hair nodded, as if humouring a kid throwing a tantrum. I almost told Naomi to go fuck herself and shove that condescending attitude of hers up her ass, but Vivian’s gleeful eyes at the prospect of eating the dear captain into the poor house made me decide to stay with the duo. Vivian’s good company anyway as I followed the two down the neatly lined streets.

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So, no falling into cockpit of mecha this chapter, since it got longer than expected and IRL issues delayed my writing. Next up, a perspective switch and a bit of focus on Ange’s other troublesome daughter. Also, more on the Pegasus. Just to pre-empt. Someone did advise Ange to let her girls know her past. The revelation will be on the next chapter.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Daily Life of Taylor Hebert.

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Taylor approached the fence of her home, before coming to a stop upon noticing the gate was latched two inches deeper than she had left it when she left for school. The half-blonde’s body tensed up as images of that home invasion that turned her home into a fortress played in her head. She crouched down and leapt over the fence towards a pre-prepared spot in the garden, which allowed her cover and a concealed path towards the house. Taylor retrieved a handgun hidden in a bed of flowers, removing the plastic wrapping and checking the weapon for signs of jamming or dirt inside. Satisfied, the teen then darted from the flower bed to below the windows outside the living room. Trained eyes scanned the floor for tell-tale signs of intruders, looking for dirt, sand or footprints left behind by sloppy assailants. Most gangbangers can’t do tactical movement and small squad tactics even if you prodded them with a bayonet, but that just gives Taylor that needed edge over potential OPFOR since she’s likely to be outnumbered.

“Hmm, dust layer on the front porch is barely disturbed by animals, and only one pair of footprints other than my own. One possible assailant, unless the enemy has climbed the roof and accessed via the windows. Based on shoe size and disturbance to the dust layer, probably a female intruder.”

With the gun out front, Taylor crept to the side of the house, swiftly climbing over a fenced door to reach the backyard. The teen was ten steps away pass the side gates before she felt herself yanked up by the feet and she was staring at the world upside down, swinging from side to side. As the young Hebert regained her bearings, she saw a pair of ruby eyes glaring at her, their owner dressed in black pants, grey top and wearing a black ski mask. The masked figure pulled out a pistol, aimed it at her face, before pulling the trigger and her world went black.

Inky black to be precise, as streams of cold squid ink sprayed her face. The masked figure pulled off her mask and began to straighten her golden hair, tutting in disapproval at Taylor. Ange pulled out a phone and snapped a shot of her hanging upside down, her face marred with splotches of ink. Taylor thought it would go very well with the other pictures on the fridge detailing her failure to pass her mother’s tests.

“I’m disappointed, Taylor. How could you fall for such a rudimentary trap I set up in only less than two hours?”

Taylor Hebert glared at her mother then attempted to reach to for the knot that is hanging her mid-air by the left ankle. Fortunately, despite her muscle mass Taylor wasn’t too heavy. Taylor froze as she felt the cold touch of steel on her back, before she saw the smiling face of her mom as Ange handed her a bayonet. The blonde sat down cross legged on the floor, pulling out a stopwatch as she watched her daughter struggle to cut herself loose.

“Okay honey, let’s see if you can cut yourself free in less than thirty minutes this time round. Or before you pass out from all the blood rushing to your brain.”

Taylor wanted to scream in outrage at her crazy gun nut of a mother, but she was too busy trying to cut herself free from the rope. Maybe she will practice some bayonet fighting with her mom later on. Their last practice session a month ago when she returned was fun!

“After that, we can talk about how I got Blackwell and that Superintendent to drop all the charges on everyone last night!”

The young Hebert froze at her mother’s celebratory remarks, then looked at the blade. The metal does looked kinda singed. Taylor then looked at her grinning, crazy mother.

She didn’t bother to hide her screams of outrage this time round.

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Detective Keyes of the Brockton PD had seen plenty of broken families in his decade in the force. Especially since his section specialised in dealing with juvenile related crimes, so families as fucked up as anything a soap opera writer can come up with are a dime a dozen. Add in the myriad refugees from Asia and Africa, mixed with the collapsing economy of Brockton Bay and you got the potent mix of exploding youth crime. But he had never seen a family quite like this.

On paper, this was one of the milder cases of neglected youth lashing out for attention from distant parents. Taylor Angel Hebert, just past fifteen and in the second year of high school at that mob training academy that’s Winslow seemed like a low risk example. About five fights in school with fellow classmates, two which were ruled accidents in the end. Two cases of aggravated assault which were not pursued as the victim were known gang members and didn’t want to go to the police, but ultimately, no known signs of any gang affiliation. Taylor Hebert seemed like a case of a school shooting waiting to happen, but so far, CPS had not flagged anything thus far on the Heberts.

The veteran detective suspects it may have been due to the widowed Mrs Hebert. Ange Missouri Hebert, childhood sweetheart of her husband the deceased Daniel Hebert. The older Ms Hebert had plenty of money and is a known donor to several gun rights groups and arch-conservative political lobbying groups. Gun rights in the United States had been bolstered with the advent of parahumans, making self-defence a major selling point for any rabble rousing politician. Her buying of influence with them and their current ascendency within the American political system allowed her plenty of political cover, despite her staying generally aloof from politics. Tusked Angel Services- a security firm founded by the late Mr Hebert was also rumoured to be connected to several figures in Langley and the Pentagon, which explains why the investigation into the large arsenal uncovered in the Hebert home was also stillborn with pressure from on high.

Closing the manila folder on the Heberts, Keyes gave a tired look at the Heberts as Taylor was released from custody after she had lawyered up. Her mother was dressed in a black pantsuit and heels, face dashed with light make up that accentuated her stunning features complemented with an easy smile. Her daughter on the other hand was all surly, her hands in her pockets and a fighter’s twitch clearly visible. The only time Keyes had seen teenagers like that was when he saw tapes of CPS interviewing former child soldiers from Africa and the Middle East as they arrived in the USA. The detective stood up as the mother and daughter approached his desk, a bright smile visible on the face of Mrs Hebert while Taylor looked disinterested. What caught his eye however was how both Heberts gaze would wander around the precinct office, studying exit points, cover and concealment locations as well as casting a passing glance on their weapons. He found himself unconsciously reaching for his gun when their gaze rested on his service revolver.

Keyes wondered what kind of security Tusked Angel provided to his government. He decided it was probably safer he didn’t know.

“Mrs Hebert. We wish to inform you that upon reviewing the video footage of the incident and based on the collective testimony, we decided that no charges will be pressed on your daughter. She is free to go.”

As the smile on Mrs Hebert’s face relaxed, Keyes found himself letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. The young Taylor merely gave a shrug at the news she wasn’t facing possible time in juvie, but her mother had clasped his hand in gratitude.

“Thank you so much, Detective for bringing this wonderful news.” The older woman turned to her daughter, prompting a defiant look from the younger Hebert.

“Say thank you to the nice police officer, Taylor.” A rolling of eyes from the teenager was the answer. Keyes felt a chill down his spine when the eyes of her mother hardened.

“Now, Taylor.” There was no doubt about it, despite it being far more soft spoken than he was used to. The Command voice that the instructors back in the academy used to break in new recruits. Immediately, slouching teenage rebellion was replaced by sharp military precision and posture as Taylor looked him straight in the eye and gave her thanks.

“Thank you sir.”

Just a simple expression of thanks, but delivered in the clipped precise tones of a trainee fresh out of the academy after the system was done breaking them in and reshaping them. Expected for someone ready to serve and protect fresh out of the system, Highly disturbing for a high school girl barely fifteen.

Just what the hell had she gone through at home?

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A/N This little snippet was thought up by me to give a glimpse into the daily life of Taylor back when she was in Brockton. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but I will just throw this out here. It's just a draft for now, and would like anyone to give comments if it fleshes out Taylor's life back in BB sufficiently.

Chapter Text

Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.9 Mom

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Dancing Dragonflies. (Worm/ Cross Ange: Rondo of Angels and Dragons)

Arc 1.9 Mom

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Ange

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Tracking down Claudia is difficult even during the best of times when she doesn’t want to be found. Despite the fact that she’s on foot and I am riding on the Ragnamail, I could not track her down as I flew over the wave of Norma and refugee alike streaming towards Arzenal town. Sometimes, I wished for the old open air design, but the Auric peoples have been insistent that we install sealed cockpits and the simulated cameras that allowed us unhindered view of all directions. Very useful, but it simply doesn’t feel the same without the wind blowing in my face. My HUD on my dashboard flashed a small window in the top right corner, a red light blinking on the borders. Hilda too had gone on radio silence after Inspector Emma had informed her of her daughter’s attempted matricide, the only silver lining being that her IFF was still flashing on my list of friendlies which implies she had yet to decide to hightail it out of Arzenal. Despite the air control system tracking all of the island, it could not single out individual personnel out of the crowd, allowing Claudia to blend in.

Not that she’d last for long hanging out alone within the crowd without arousing suspicion. Girl’s too high profile, and her dancer’s costume makes her stick out since she’s supposed to be helping the new Norma and their Manaist families to settle in. No, if Claudia’s going to run, she’s too well trained to stick around for too long before she makes a break for it.

Of course, tracking a Ragnamail still within Arzenal is another matter altogether.

I scrolled down the list of active Mails in the air right now, gritting my teeth at seeing Hilda’s Theodora IFF listed as On Patrol. I didn’t have to be psychic to know that Hilda’s probably going overreact and use the Ragnamail to make an escape attempt with Claudia using it. Fortunately, tracking down a friendly unit while they were in the airspace of Arzenal wasn’t too difficult. I flew towards the cemetery located at the back of Arzenal base and saw the Theodora in flight mode parked within the graveyard while my cameras zoomed in on a pair of redheads yelling at one another. Well, Hilda looks like she was yelling at Claudia, who was holding onto a combat knife and pointing it at her own throat. I approached the airspace above the cemetery at a slow speed so as to not alarm Hilda who’s likely really jittery right now, seeing our daughter breakdown like that. Sadly, Hilda turned up to see Vilkiss descend upon them and she panicked, swiftly closing the distance between Claudia and herself and taking a slash in the side of her torso before disarming our kid. My wife quickly pinned down Claudia before hauling her towards the awaiting Theodora. I opened direct comms with my partner, speaking in as soothing a tone as I could muster despite my simmering rage and disappointment at the pair.

“Hilda, it’s me Ange.” Hearing mother and daughter screaming at each other in between choked sobs both raised my ire and broke my heart. Frustration that my wife think I’d be seeking retribution on my own kid, sorrow at two of the most important people in my life tearing at each other.

“Hi Princess.” Despite the laugh in her voice, I can still hear the tension between the two of them and me. Theodora’s beam rifle pointed her nozzle end at me, causing my alarm levels to spike as I banked to the left hard when it started to glow. I yanked the handlebars of my control console, transforming Vilkiss into her Destroyer mech form while the green pulsing beam pass me by only a few feet, I frowned as Hilda’s mail started to glow a bright red, the frame of Theodora turned from black with red outlines to a bright burning red. With a flourish, the Theodora powered her beam sword, covering the metal blade in a glowing red light as the air shimmered around it before she flew towards me, wings blazing with the rainbow glow of superheated dragonium.

Better be on my toes. Between the Michael mode stirring Hilda’s emotions into a rage and the Theodora’s superior output and movement in melee, Hilda could very kill me.

I broke to the right, ignoring the jerk and whiplash I felt as my Mail’s cockpit shook from the sudden movement. I parried the beam sword with the beam shield on my Mail’s left arm, the clashing energies of sword and shield sending a shower of sparks falling towards the graveyard below. I swung Vilkiss’s own sword towards Theodora’s left arm, hoping to create an opening for me to disarm the Mail safely but Hilda saw my attempt and moved to stab at me furiously, forcing me to burn my thrusters as a distraction and fly backwards. I jerked my Mail into a hard roll as my machine spun below the Theodora while my wife’s Mail upped the ante when another shimmering beam sword appeared on the left hand as well. Orbs of red light appeared around me, and I began darting about, avoiding and blasting with my own beam rifle the unending wave of red beam lancces that shot out of the appearing portals.

Damn, love. You’re not making this easier. I took to the skies above Hilda’s machine chased by the swarm of beam lances from the Theodora’s Archistrategos system, luring her to swipe at me with her beam blades and felt my head spin when vertigo almost overtook me after my wife obliged and sent two glowing crescents of crimson light with a single swing, crashing into the frame of the Vilkiss and causing angry red warning signs to burst all over my HUD display as the Vilkiss’s light barrier got shaken by the impact. I grit my teeth and willed the Vilkiss into the Ariel mode, the frame turning into metal cold blue and I teleported behind the blazing wings of the Theodora.

I kicked the back of the Theodora which sent her crashing to the ground and fired several volleys from my beam rifle in rapid bursts of green light towards my wife’s descending machine. I then unloaded the entire payload of thirty six anti-ship missiles from the rocket pods located on the waist of the Vilkiss towards the Theodora, knowing the light barrier will absorb the impact of the projectiles without any damage to pilot or Mail’s frame. All this while, I ignored the searing pain I felt as the right leg I used to stomp on the light barrier protected frame of the Theodora was blown wide open.

Emphatic machines. Can’t win without ‘em. Hurts like a bitch when you push them to the limits and blow up a limb or ten. At least Hilda had turned off the Archistrategos system upon seeing one of my legs get blown out, since the mass of beam lances had disappeared and was no longer pursuing me like a swarm of angry hornets.

I watched as the Theodora started to reassert herself, the thrusters of Hilda’s mail slowing the descent and allowing her to look towards me again. I prepared to fire another volley of supercharged beam as I dumped the beam rifle onto the graveyard and switched to the positron cannon hanging from the rear of my frame. I heard a choking sound that sounded like Hilda over the still open comms channel to her machine as she saw me pulling out the big guns and I briefly wondered what’s going through her mind as I fired a massive red and wide beam that arced with red bolts of lightning towards Theodora. Just in time too, as I noticed several ominous glowing red circles forming next to the Vilkiss disperse, thanks to the Theodora being shot by a beam of antimatter light.

Maybe Hilda’s thinking something along the lines of Ange’s gone off the deep end, since the positron cannons were used by the Ancient Humans to terraform landscapes and moon surfaces in their abandoned space programmes prior to World War Seven. But I’m sure the Ragnamail’s Michael system is capable of tanking even the nastiest attacks like mountain splitting, island sinking attacks.

Maybe.

Since I wasn’t aiming to reduce my wife and daughter into clouds of antimatter I had set the cannon to the lowest possible strength. I seized the chance provided by the disoriented pilot of the Theodora as Hilda reoriented herself from the shock of the beam attack crashing against Theodora’s light barrier and her not being reduced to dust before I charged towards my wife’s Ragnamail, my anti-personnel beam machinegun built into my torso pelting the still glowing form of the Theodora. Through the shimmering heat waves generated as the air around our duelling Mails heated up, I saw the bright ominous red glow of Theodora’s eyes slits and I yelled out, the eyes of Vilkiss in Michal mode meeting her sister machine’s own and daring Hilda to stop me as I rushed head on towards her beam sword that was pointed at me.

“You suicidal bitch!!!” That’d be Hilda yelling at me as the beam sword pulled away from my flight path with only several feet to spare before I was skewered. I spread out the arms of the Vilkiss and grabbed the Theodora in a bear hug, the sound of metal pressed against metal rattling my cockpit with its scream while sparks from the clash of our mutual light barrier flew. I once again tried to open comms with Hilda, hoping she was shaken enough to see reason.

“Power down and land, Hilda. Same goes for you Claudia.”

Despite the incoherent shouting between the two of them, Theodora’s red light barrier powered down and the frame reverted to the original black while I gently set down my wife’s machine, keeping the Ragnamail in my embrace all the time. As we made landfall, I opened my cockpit and stood up, my arms folded as I glared at my wayward family. Hissing as air escaped, the sealed cockpit of the Theodora soon opened, Claudia climbing out with her hands in the air with her eyes puffy and the makeup marred by streaks of her tears. I forcibly bit down a shouting attack I was about to unleash on my daughter, choosing instead to get back into the cockpit of the Vilkiss.

“Change into Flight mode and disembark.”

As we got out of our respective machines, I felt a surge of frustration at Claudia as she again came out of the Theodora’s cockpit face downcast with Hilda’s knife in her right hand, pointing downwards. I stomped over to my daughter, my fury boiling over as I slapped her with a resounding thwack on her right cheek, stunning my youngest daughter into silence.

“Ange!” Hilda jumped out of the Theodora, throwing a panicked swing at me which I caught and pulled her face first into my shoulder, pressing down. I gestured to Claudia who was staring at me wide eyed in bewilderment.

“No stabbing this time round, okay? Drop the knife and come here for a hug.”

The knife fell blade first into the soft soil as Claudia staggered over in a daze.

“Commander, I…”

“Stop that!” I snapped, causing Claudia to wince. “I’m your mother first, your commander a very distant second! Four hundred thousand Norma on spread out on Earth Aura and on Earth Mana, all of them potential soldiers, but I have only two daughters!”

I pulled at my white pilot suit, causing Claudia to avert her eyes as she noted the tear where her bayonet had entered.

“Do I have to give up my positon as Commander before you’d call me mother again?”

Her eyes widened in shock, her lips quivering as she struggled for words. I gave her a smile as softly as I could, gesturing again for her to join het two mothers. As she closed the distance and I placed her head in my free shoulder, I held onto her head, gently stroking her hair before I ventured a question.

“It’s about the time when I gave you that doll, isn’t it Claudia? After you took the test to see if you could sing the True Star Song and control the Ragnamails.?”

I felt Claudia stiffen at the mention of the doll, the test and I knew I hit the jackpot.

“You nearly died saving me from the blowback when the Space Time Continuum Cannons misfired because I could not control the resonance of the Song.” My daughter whispered as she trembled. I patted Hilda on the back before I turned my full attention to Claudia.

“If Mama Ange hadn’t rushed to pull me from the distortion blast in the blast lab, I would have…” The distant gaze in her eyes told me she was looking at a scene far away while her words died, remembering the time when our attempts to find a new generation of Ragnamail pilots nearly killed off a whole generation of promising Norma leaders. I could hear the alarms blaring in my ears, the flashing red lights before I ripped open the sealed cockpit of the rebuilt Victoria and pulled out my screaming daughter from the carnage as I leapt into the burning hulk of the Mail…

“The Ragnamails rejected me, Commander. How can I call myself the daughter of the Saviour of the Norma if the True Star Song rejects me?” Haunted eyes confronted me as Claudia looked at me while I held her. Despite my best attempts, legends and myths grew among the younger ones about my exploits. It says a lot of me if Claudia knows more about my rumours than she does me. Mostly, it says I’m a shit parent, but I didn’t need to see it from Claudia to know of this. I already have my other daughter for that.

“Claudia, I don’t give a damn what the Song says about you. You’re my daughter, borne out of love between Hilda and me. “

My youngest fixed me with a questioning stare that was unsettling, mostly due to the lack of resentment in them. Taylor when she was riled up had eyes that burned with the fires of bitterness and longing. Claudia’s gaze on the other hand…

“But even when you’re back on Arzenal, you still were focused so much on Taylor and Tusk. Despite her rebellion and obstinate attitude you still chose to go back for her.”

Ouch, she got me good here.

“I’ve seen it, Commander.” Claudia murmured while she laid in my embrace. “How you were viewing her life on that alien world. How you risked so much travelling and putting yourself in danger. How when Mama Hilda slept in your lap you were viewing Taylor’s life remotely, ensuring she’s provided for, communicating with Momoka daily.”

I didn’t need to look at Hilda to feel her hot gaze on me. My wife can get very vocal when she’s upset that I don’t spend enough time with her and Claudia. But Claudia? She tells me nothing. Even Hilda has a hard time getting our girl to tell us things.

“The fact that the Song rejected me proves only one thing. I am unfit to be Mama Ange’s daughter unlike Taylor because she can sing the True Star Song and be accepted by it, while I cannot. That’s why you chose Taylor over Mama Hilda and me isn’t it?”

My throat felt dry as my mind blanked out from this realisation. Hilda joined me as we placed our daughter between us, sandwiching her in the embrace of her parents while I tried to comprehend how badly I’ve failed.

Both my daughters are broken, except Claudia cannot even comprehend that I’ve fucked up her sister’s and her own life.

“I’m sorry, Claudia. You and Hilda both deserved better.”

“Commander, I…”

“Listen!” I snapped as I cut my daughter off. “I failed you as much as I did Taylor. She resents me because I could not be there for her, that I cannot be a mother for her because I have no damn clue how it is to be one and I can’t have Momoka raise her without putting her under more torment.”

Claudia went still, her breathing slowing down.

“But for all the wrong I did her Taylor at least knows to be bitter for my faults. I’m terrified for you Claudia. You can resign your position, stay forever rotting away if you so wish in your room tomorrow like a goddamn leech, and I’d still provide for you for the rest of my life if I have to. But more than a future pilot for the Ragnamail I want my girls back. That means the daughters who would spit in my face how I’ve wronged them because I did. Not someone who shrinks away from me when I approach her like you do.”

I winced as my daughter began to struggle and kicked me in the shin. Thank God I’ve removed my sidearm and knife when I approached Claudia.

“Mama Ange did no wrong! I’m the disappointment who made my mothers cry!” I ignored the throbbing pain in my shin, my daughter’s screeching while Hilda and I held our girl together. I let her dammed up emotions overflow as she bawled, waiting for her crying to stop before I broached the next question.

“Is that why you stabbed me, Claudia?” Hilda gave me an alarmed stare, her eyes pleading as I brought up the subject that us shooting and stabbing each other mere minutes ago. “When you realised how much I’ve failed the both of you, how I spent so much effort and focus on your sister? How I got nothing in return, how it could have been you that got all that attention and then your bottled resentment boiled over?”

Claudia remained silent, her eyes a blank and vacant stare. I rubbed her hair, prompting her to look at me again while I smiled at her.

“I suppose even you’re at a lost to explain why you knifed me, huh?” I kissed her forehead, before I noticed a woman with short orange hair and a mole beneath her right eye standing at the entrance to the graveyard looking at us. Behind her stood her daughters, Trish and Millia.

“You want to take a break for the rest of the day, Claudia?” My daughter looked at me, uncertainty clear on her face.

“Commander, I…” She bit her lip as I let go of her. My youngest child stood still, before she gingerly placed both her arms around my waist. I saw her lips moved as she tried to mouth the words Mama but no sound except a choked rattle came out. I slowly returned her hug, rubbing her hair gently.

Claudia still can’t bring herself to call me Mother. No miracles here sadly.

“Baby steps, Claudia. Baby steps. We’re going to take this nice and slow like how it’s going to be with Taylor, okay?”

Mumbled whispers beneath her breath answered me and I decided not to push further and let my girl sort things over slowly with Hilda. I kissed her hair before I looked at Hilda, my eyes meeting hers before they looked towards the entrance to the graveyard. My wife nodded in understanding.

“You take the rest of the day off, Claudia. Follow Aunt Rosalie and your two friends.” Hilda walked over to her old friend and her girls, whispering to them before they nodded and the two younger Norma rushed over to my daughter.

“C’mon C. Drama’s over. Let’s get something nice. My treat!” Millia, bless her is as dumb, friendly and oblivious as ever as she and Trish took Claudia by the hand and led her away. Their orange headed mother approached me, whistling in appreciation.

“Hilda told me what Claudia and Taylor did and that Mail fight drove home the point. Damn do your daughters take after you!” I glared at the grinning Norma, who’s gleefully taking the opportunity to rub in my face my failures.

“Tell you what, Rosalie. When Trish and Millia tries to shiv you, I’ll laugh in your face too.”

“Deal!” God, it will only be a week before all the Norma and Auric peoples know I had a Mail fight with my wife and daughter. And to think “Dumber than a box of hair” Rosalie of all people will be carrying the news. I let Hilda handle her old friend while I looked at the small cloth doll I’ve swiped from my daughter’s hidden skirt pocket on her dancer’s outfit. Sure enough, the small doll, with misshaped red eyes and long blonde hair of me in my white Commander’s uniform is the very same one I made for Claudia when she was eight, after she clung to my blouse, refusing to let me go back to Earth Bet. I felt the touch over the worn fabric of the doll, remembering the time Claudia’s face lit up at my gift after Hilda managed to convince her to let me go in exchange for Mama Ange’s handmade gift.

I had intended for her to grow out of it once she reaches maturity, much like how I eventually grew out of the dolls I had when I was a child. I never expected it to become a substitute and a centrepiece of an altar for me. I sighed as I handed the cloth doll over to Hilda, who stuffed it into her webbing. I stared at the gash on the side of her stomach, which she got when disarming a rattled Claudia. Luckily, the bleeding didn’t seem too bad.

“Ange.” Hilda’s voice broke me out of my thoughts as I looked at my wife’s uncertain expression. Words died in my mouth as I let several awkward moments of silence pass between us.

“The things you told to Claudia and me today? You gotta tell it to Taylor too. “

The slight blush on her cheeks as she gave me that advised warmed my heart, given how adorable she looks with that slight pink glow on her face. Hilda pressed down on the cut, wincing as the adrenaline wore off and she started to feel the pain. Hilda gave me a small smile as she went off to join Rosalie and get her wound treated while a cracking sound from the Vilkiss radio caught my attention. I went over to the console of my machine, frowning as I saw who exactly was hailing me on the radio.

“Hello, Salako.” I paused for a moment before deciding that being bitter was the best reaction.

“You dumb lizard, this is the last time I seek your advice in raising kids! Trust me I have five children already my ass!” I snarled over the radio at my Auric friend and rival. “Your advice got me stabbed by Claudia and started a Mail fight with my wife!”

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“Café Ange. This is the place that you’re talking about?”

This establishment bearing my mother’s name on the entrance overlooked the beach and a distant view onto the mainland that’s separated from Arzenal Island by a choppy channel of green seawater. The humidity and the increasing heat of the sun was starting to wear on me, making me more irritable by the minute as I gave the wooden house painted white with a black roof and a raised platform and veranda a quick evaluation. Groups of children gathered in groups around the wooden building, either playing with one another or listening to some of the Normas wearing the blue uniforms regarding some topic. What’s interesting is that the children are a mix of Norma children wearing mini versions of the Arzenal uniforms of red and blue and other children wearing patched up civilian clothing.

I turned to my hosts who brought me to this weird establishment that my mother apparently decided to grace her name with and promptly fucked off and forgot about it, if the fact she’s not here is anything to go by. Besides, this place totally doesn’t suit Mom’s style.

“Doesn’t look like something Mom would set up. Where’s the barbed wire, armed sentries and minefields?”

Both Kitty and Vivian looked at me blankly, as if I had said something that doesn’t make sense. What, Mom wouldn’t set up a place without turning it into a death trap. And the idea of Ange Hebert in the service industry is darkly hilarious. As in pouring hot coffee over an obnoxious customer hilarious.

“Coffee? Get it yourself.” God, I can even hear her saying those words in my head!

“Just how was the Commander like on Earth Bet, Taylor? Because you make it sound like she was always on the edge of exploding into a shooting spree.”

Huh, Mom isn’t a paranoid gun nut when she’s here on an actual stronghold packed with armed sci-fi Amazons and military hardware? Well, you asked for it Captain Kitty Naomi! As I related to the pink haired Norma how my mother turned the house I grew up in into a death trap, the expression on Naomi’s face grew steadily more disturbed until it descended into full blown alarm. Funny how it takes an actual alien soldier lady to take my claims that my Mom has enough guns and explosives to start a war seriously and be shocked by it. Most people back in Brockton either didn’t believe me or mysteriously never did shit about it when they actually asked and I obliged them.

“That’s horrible!” Hey! It almost sounds like the good Captain Naomi is actually shocked at my Mom raising me on a pile of guns. “It’s like you grew up on an FOB in hostile Manaist territory instead of a proper home.”

I narrowed my eyes at the impending signs of condescension, since I’ve met a few do-gooders and the occasional Jehovah’s Witnesses who somehow didn’t get the memo not to knock on the door of the local gun nut who behaved in the exact same way she is doing now. Better nip this in the butt.

“I swear if you start going on about old poor little child on me, I will totally pistol-whip you.”

“No, of course not. Despite everything, you grew up into the person you are now. It would be horribly insulting of me to insinuate you’re anyway wrong or defective.” Huh. Tact, diplomacy and understanding the concept of giving space to people. I think I like you Captain Naomi. Dragon girl Vivian on the other hand, was going stir crazy as she started to pout since we were standing outside the café instead of going inside to clean out the pantry and then some as she had suggested. Well, I did skip breakfast so…

“Naomi, where’s Ersha! I’m hungryyy!” That whine from the sun kissed draconic girl seemed more suitable to a middle school, alternate version of me that’s got a proper upbringing rather than surly, bag of issues and zero fucks actual me.

“Soon, Vivian.” Okay, scratch the middle school part. She’s more elementary school considering how Kitty hair is actually patting Vivian on the head. “Matter of fact, Ersha should be arriving home right about…now.”

Hey, why are you looking to the sky? Is this Ersha riding some kind of helicopter to holy crap!

“Is…is that a giant robot. Is that an actual, humanoid war machine that’s standing at twenty over feet flying down towards me?”

I’m totally not geeking out over a giant robot. Nope, twenty over feet of mechanised steel in a kickass humanoid shape, painted bright orange with twin howitzer pieces on the shoulders, bright jets located at the back with bright gouts of brilliant rainbow flame allowing several tonnes of steel to hover in mid-air like a gigantic, ironclad angel of death is totally not freaking sweet! And holy crap, the cameras that look like eyes on the head of the robot is glowing while it’s looking at me!

Too bad about the shopping carts it’s holding in its right hand though. Totally ruined the look. Should have gotten a fuck huge bazooka or axe which shoot lasers out of it. On the other hand, shopping with a giant robot as a ride is totally rules! I hope their supermarket so big it allows me to ride this baby in.

The children that were gathered around the café’s compound ran towards the landing spot of the robot, barely being held back by the Norma adults while the kids yelled out Mama Ersha. Well, I guess I found out who’s going to be eaten into the poor house if Vivian’s drooling is anything to go by. The ground shook as the orange robot landed on the sand, but surprisingly the large machine didn’t sink into the sand when several tonnes of steel laid onto the ground. Something inside the machine must be distributing the mass and weight of the frame. A woman with hip length pink hair stood up and waved at us from the torso of the robot as the sealed cockpit opened up, prompting cheers from the gathered children and Vivian. She clambered back into the machine and set down the shopping cart and then the robot transformed into the fighter craft I had seen back in the hangar in Arzenal before it landed onto the beach.

Transforming robots. I simply must get one of my own. I’d be able to tell all the gangs in back in BB to fuck off permanently with this.

As the cockpit opened to disgorge the pink haired Norma in an orange version of the boob window suit Mom was wearing, another passenger with red-framed glasses and a white and purple uniform unlike the Norma ones also clambered out of the cockpit, her long skirt almost tripping over the edge of the machine. Many of the children giggled at her undignified exit, prompting the green haired woman in the white cap bearing the diamond symbol of Arzenal to yell at them which caused even more giggling from the brats. Of course, despite her pristine and impressive looking uniform, what with the red officer epaulettes and all on the shoulder and collar, the impression I got from her was…ineffectual. The grey headphones she was wearing didn’t really detract from this unflattering impression I got from her.

“Hey, it’s Officer Emma! Hi Emma!”

“Gah!” Ms Emma looked in our direction, her face looking like a harried rabbit while she adjusted her headphones and tapped at them before heaving a sigh of relief. She marched over to us and glared at the grinning face of Vivian who yelled at her, attempting to bore into the redhead with her eyes.

“Ms Vivian, for the last time you know how yelling by Auric peoples can harm the mental health of us Manaists!” I arched an eyebrow at this little titbit and looked over the civilian dressed children. Sure enough, quite a number of them have this glazed over look on their faces. Vivian simply gave a short laugh at Ms Ineffectual Emma’s plea not to be Mastered before she rushed over to Ersha who happily welcomed the draconic girl with a hug. The headphone wearing woman growled in the general direction of the departing dragon before she turned towards me, her face the epitome of professional pleasantness.

“Taylor I presume? I’m Emma Bronson, Chief Administrator of Arzenal and also the Chief Liaison for the Manaist people. A pleasure to meet you.”

I gave a stare at her extended hand and her smiling face, alternating between them before she finally got the hint from my surly disposition. Hey, she didn’t even show one iota of strain on that professional smile of hers. Nice! Emma walked closer to me, her smile still on her face as she conjured up those floating light screens Momoka uses. Rite of Mana or something I think. The green haired woman gave a pointed look to the ring I was wearing before she pointed to it.

“May I take a look?” I shrugged and held out my hand for her to have a good look at the jewellery I swiped from the dresser earlier this morning as Emma brought the projection closer to my extended hand. The screen hovered over my ring, strings of numbers and characters raining down on the screen before I felt an intense burning heat in my chest when the jewel on the ring began to glow a brilliant green. I yelled out at the sudden pain and swung my hand backwards, the back of my hand slapping onto the screen and causing it to literally shatter into shards of green light complete with the sound of glass bursting. I heard screams of panic from some of the gathered children as they saw the screen break, while the teachers attempted to console the kids. Jesus, I broke a project screen, not engage in blue murder. What the hell is wrong with these Manaists?

Emma was about to speak again, when I heard a loud rumble from across the island. Immediately, several beeping sounds came from the pockets of all the gathered adult Norma as they pulled out their mobile phones. Emma of course, being the oh so special Manaist simply conjured up another projected screen. Her smile seemed to waver as she looked at the numbers again scrolling down her screen rapidly, sending looks at my still glowing ring which is somehow causing me what feels like a serious case of heartburn. The Manaist gave one more look to my ring, before she sighed and dismissed the projection.

“Taylor, I know you’re probably hungry and tired. But there’s been an emergency. Would you mind taking a detour to our sealed hangars? Both Pegasus and Chrysaor have awakened.”

Despite the glowing rock on my finger and the heartburn, I still felt my hunger pangs. Greek mythology can wait.

“Sorry, but I’m not really into winged horses and his inexplicably human brother with the golden sword.”

Oh, that long suffering look on Emma’s face. So much nostalgia as I remembered the overworked and underpaid Winslow counselling staff looking just like her before they burnt out and stopped giving a single shit.

“They’re not actually Greek mythology figures, their origins being from the remains of a defeated evil aside. They’re actually our new Ragnamails.” Hey, Ragnamails are those giant robots like in Mom’s video right? “We think you and Claudia are their chosen mistresses. We just have to figure which is which.”

Hey God? I know I haven’t actually attended church or generally gave much of a shit about you? But if you allow me to get a dimension travelling super robot, I promise to not use your name in vain for the next ten phrases I utter out. Oh, and can you like have Claudia meet with an accident involving her machine when we ride? K, thanks!

“Please lead the way, Administrator.”

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A/N: Finally, I got it out. I was getting stuck over the fight scene, trying to get it to work. Well, please leave me your comments. Thanks for reading.