When Dragon gives you a ride, you ride in style. Heads turn up and down the street as a small jet plane swoops down towards the empty parking lot where you're waiting. The nose tilts up and four engine nacelles decorated to look like stubby legs twist to point forward, killing its momentum. The 'legs' then turn back to point straight down, leaving it hovering perhaps fifteen feet off the ground.
The paintjob is suitably draconic, of course. The wings are painted to resemble bat-like dragon wings while the fuselage sports a metallic scale pattern, with a mouth and eyes in the appropriate places up front. The effect is only further enhanced when it starts to descend: The wings fold up onto its back and landing gear shaped like claws sprout from the 'feet'.
The whole thing is lit up to sorcerer's sight, but that sort of goes without saying. Of course it's all tinkertech, duh! Dragon being Dragon, she probably only sacrificed a few percent efficiency to make it look that good - well worth it in your opinion.
The plane touches down gently enough that you can't hear it over the (remarkably silent) engines. Folded up like that, it only takes up two parking spaces.
The mirrored canopy opens to reveal an empty cockpit. Remote controlled, then. No wonder, there's certainly not room for two people in there. No ladder appears to be forthcoming, so you grab the edge of the cockpit and (after a couple of embarrassing false starts) manage to to vault/scramble your way inside. Fenrir jumps up to ride on top of the plane, ignoring any and all physical and logical problems with this course of action.
The cockpit is certainly snug. You're somewhat regretting making Smith this broad-shouldered. You have no idea how Dragon fits in here - as far as you know she never leaves the house without power armor. With another couple of false starts you manage to figure out how to buckle yourself in, too.
There's a flight stick, but instead of the countless dials and meters you'd expect from a cockpit, the dashboard is made up of a single blank screen. Just as you're wondering what to do next, the screen lights up and Dragon's face appears.
"Smith! Hello."
"Dragon. A pleasure to meet you, in image if not in the flesh just yet."
Not even that, really. The face before you is no more real than your voice. It's clearly computer generated, and it elects to stop short of the uncanny valley instead trying to bridge it.
"Likewise. Are you ready to leave?"
"Certainly."
The cockpit seals shut and you hear the engines start back up. You carefully keep your hands away from the flight stick as the plane gently rises into the air. Dragon's face moves up into the corner of the screen as the rest fills with a lot of information you don't know how to parse. You briefly make out 'landing gear retracted' before you're pushed back into your seat by sudden acceleration.
That Fenrir remains entirely unperturbed by this sequence of events goes without saying. Air resistance is for tangible people.
"Is it even legal to land a plane in the middle of a city like that?" you ask.
"Ah." Judging by the sudden blush spreading across Dragon's cheeks, you'd guess her face is no less real than your voice either - computer generated, but based on a real video feed. "This vehicle is registered as power armor, which legally makes it a pedestrian when piloted within city limits."
Huh. You guess you can get away with a lot when you hold the majority of all Tinker-related government contracts on the continent. You say as much, and Dragon blushes again. Oh well, another one for the 'all heroes are corrupt' column. But at least in her case it's only traffic violations, and she even has the decency to be embarrassed about it.
"The trip should take 3 hours 23 minutes," Dragon says. "I'm afraid the entertainment options are limited, but I could play you some music?"
"Thanks, but I'll just take a nap. Haven't been getting enough sleep lately." You could stay up and study the tinker-tech surrounding you, but there's little point. You have no desire to build an airplane of your own, even should you somehow manage to procure enough orichalcum to do it.
"As you wish. Sleep well, Smith." The video feed vanishes, leaving more indecipherable instrumentation in its place. You close your eyes and let the engine noise lull you to sleep.
---
You wake up with the nagging sense that something is out of place. You blink groggily and look around trying figure out what it is.
As far as you can tell, nothing looks different. A glance outside shows that you're approaching a city, but you have no idea which one. The instruments are still unhelpful, but you manage to locate a clock. Hm, either you slept for less than an hour, or you've passed through a timezone or two.
Oh, there it is. There's a faint high-pitched noise underlying the soft roar of the engines. That could be bad.
Another hunt through the instruments reveals no flashing red items, at least.
"Dragon?" you ask.
Her face immediately appears on screen again. "Yes?"
"Do you hear that?"
"No? Hear what?"
"There's this faint high-pitched sound." You frown in concentration. "I think it's getting louder, and it's... warbling a bit? Yeah."
"Hm. Diagnostic telemetry does not show anything wrong, and I can can't hear anything over the audio link either. Are you sure?"
"Yes, it's definitely getting louder."
"Okay. I believe you. The range on the cockpit mike is not the best." As she speaks, the engine noise lessens and the plane banks and starts losing altitude. "I'm landing the plane. Once it's on the ground, I'll walk you through an inspect- oh no!"
The plane suddenly pulls into a spinning, twisting evasive maneuver. Through heroic effort, you do not puke into your mask as the world flips end over end.
"What's happening!? Dragon?"
Dragon yells something back, but the channel is sudden filled with static and you only make out the final word: "*crackle* *crackle* Simurgh!"
Oh. The noise - the scream - reaches a crescendo and you see a flash of white outside the cockpit, then there's the terrible screeching sound of tearing metal. The violent evasive maneuvers turn into an even more violent tumble and several different alarms start blaring through the cockpit. Three quarters of the instrumentation turns red in an instant.
Most relevant to your interests would be the large flashing letters spelling out 'EJECTION MECHANISM JAMMED', which is the last thing you see before foam fills your vision.
---
This time you're jarred awake by liquid hitting your face. Not water, you catch a faint whiff of solvent as it seeps underneath your mask. Your eyes are held shut by some sticky substance, but after a few moments it gives way and you get a look at your surroundings. The plane - or what remains of it - is on the ground, surrounded by greenery. It's too well-manicured to be a wilderness, though. You'd guess a park, somewhere in the city you were approaching.
The cockpit is filled with bright orange foam, which is slowly dissolving into liquid as a set of nozzles spray it with solvent. This must be Dragon's famous containment foam, the number one tool for non-lethal parahuman takedowns and, apparently, high-speed impact cushioning. Given the miraculous way you're still alive you rate it 10/10, would be encased in while falling out of the sky again.
When you try move, though, you quickly discover that your everything hurts. Note to self, upgrade Brute rating before crashing another airplane. Nothing feels outright broken, though.
Which is good, because you have to get out of here. You can still hear the scream in the back of your mind, though it's a lot fainter than it was before. Everyone knows what happens if you hear that for too long. Melt faster, foam!
Your phone chirps, indicating an incoming message. You have to wait a few seconds for the foam to recede from your pocket before you can check it. You don't recognize the sender, but Dragon is the only person who has Smith's number.
< If you survived the crash, you have until 1407 to get out of range.
The clock on your phone reads 1:54 PM.
The foam finally gives up its hold on your legs, letting you pull yourself out of the cockpit. You take all of one second to admire the wreck - one wing and three engines are unaccounted for, lost either in the initial attack or during impact.
Once that second has elapsed, you take off running in a random direction. That's the problem, you don't actually know where the Simurgh is in relation to you right now. Maybe sorcerer's sight shows a faint aura of her power all around you, maybe that's just your imagination. If it's there at all, it's too faint to make out a gradient.
If the scream grows stronger, you'll turn around and hope you didn't waste too much time.
Fenrir is nowhere to be found, either. He must have fallen off during the evasive maneuvers. You're sufficiently confident in his physics-ignoring bullshit that you're not really worried about him sticking the landing. Hopefully he'll turn up soon.
...Come to think of it, shouldn't you be panicking right about now? You're lost and alone and you're about to have your mind subverted by the scariest being on earth. That seems like the sort of situation that ought to induce panic.
Maybe you're in shock? If so, you don't see why shock gets such a bad rap. This detached, analytical mindset seems quite nice, if the alternative is sensibly freaking the fuck out, or maybe curling up from the pain you're curiously unconcerned about right now.
As you reach the edge of the park, your choice of direction is vindicated. The street is full of people fleeing in roughly the same direction as you were going. It's a relatively sparsely populated area, so the streets are not entirely clogged.
Encouraged by the sign that you're going in the right direction, you put on a burst of speed. You should be getting winded too, but if anything you're feeling lighter on your feet than when you started running. Your stride is lengthening with every step, and-
The sight of dust and grit rising out from between the slabs of pavement clues you in just in time. You lunge for the closest lamppost and wrap your arms and legs around it.
All around you, people slight slower on the uptake are shouting in panic as they start rising slowly into the air. A lucky few manage to grab onto a street light or the side of a building on the way up.
It's not just the people who are affected, it's everything. Dropped objects are following their owners into the sky, garbage is rising out of a nearby trashcan... Even the cars are lifting off. Though your grip on the lamppost is secure, you feel your clothes striving to pull away from you. Good thing your glasses are securely attached to your mask.
You suppress a giggle as the phrase 'I went to a Simurgh fight, and all I got was an atomic wedgie' flashes across your mind. You unnatural calm notwithstanding, you realize that hysteria is right there, waiting for you to take a single step in its direction.
Good news, the levitating force does not seem to be getting stronger. You could easily hang on here all day. Bad news, you really need to be running away right now. As if in response to your thoughts, the scream gets ever so slightly louder.
Why is she doing this, anyway? She's supposed to rip entire buildings from the ground and throw them at people. Why haven't the heroes shown up to distract her from bullying the civilian population yet?
The scream changes pitch briefly, making a sort of interrogative noise. 'Ah-hah?'
You count as part of the civilian population, all right? You're not here to fight, you don't have any powers that would even scratch her. You don't want to be here at all!
The scream changes again, and you're probably literally going crazy but you swear it sounds reassuring. 'There, there.'
Could this please not be happening?
The scream rises in volume, seeming to build towards something, before it abruptly cuts out completely. The levitating force vanishes at the same moment, causing you to fall on your ass.
You get off easy. Shouts and sobs turn into wordless screams as people plunge out of the sky to splatter against the pavement. Most of those who found a handhold on the way up suffer the same fate, as they were not prepared for gravity to return to normal. One poor bastard manages to land safely, only to be crushed beneath a falling car.
You're numb to the horror of it, preoccupied by a much more cerebral horror: Soul's price just went off.
Simurgh wants daddy to spank her more often.
So. Either that really counted as a conversation, and the Endbringers are alien kids acting out for attention... Or she's already hacked your brain enough to spoof your powers. Even though - you check you phone - you still have nine minutes left according to Dragon.
You're reevaluating the pros and cons of hysteria when Fenrir shows up, running full tilt towards you. Not only is he unharmed, he's still carrying your dematerialized luggage. See, you knew he'd stick the landing.
Right, focus. You can do this. You can still get out in time. In time? The scream is gone, which means that your escape has already either succeeded or failed. No, don't think about that. You still need to get out of the city before the barricades go up.
Just take it one step at a time. Next problem: Cameras. You take a look around, ignoring what's on the ground, completely ignoring what's covering the ground.
Your gaze fastens on a young woman who survived by wedging herself in a doorway. She looks a bit like you, when you don't look like an old man. Not so much the face (no glasses, either) but the hair is similar.
You make your way over, trying not to step in anything too horrible. She's - understandably, given the circumstances - hugging herself and crying, but her face lights up with hope when she sees you approaching and she manages to get control of herself.
"A-are you a hero?"
"A rogue, technically, but close enough. What's your name?"
"Uh... Marie. It's Marie."
"And what city is this?"
"You don't know? It's Ottawa. Uh, in Canada. On Earth Bet."
"Have you lived here long, Marie?"
"Why? Why are you asking so many questions? Get me out of here!"
"All in good time."
"Three years! Please! I moved here three years ago. Help me, please!"
"Shhh, everything's going to be all right." You place a finger against her lips.
Marie wants to be saved from the Simurgh.
Yes, you guessed that already. But you have to hear it, or the magic won't take.
You hand her the scarf you used in place of a mask earlier today. "Here, wrap yourself up in this. No matter what happens, don't let anyone see your face."
"O-okay." She wipes eyes with her sleeve, and some unladylike snorting noises indicate that she's trying to avoid getting snot on your scarf.
"Come forth," you whisper once she's done. Let there be wolf.
Marie shies away from Fenrir when he appears. "Up you go," you tell her. When she doesn't react, you gently but firmly push her in the right direction. She doesn't resist, but just looks back helplessly when she fetches up against the wolf.
Fenrir obediently lies down at your gesture, and you manage to coax Marie to get astride him. You mount up behind her with considerably less hassle.
"Now, what's the fastest way out of the city?" you ask.
"Back that way." She points in the direction everyone was already going, and Fenrir takes off at a sprint. Marie yelps in shock and flails about, but between your arms around her waist and Fenrir's bullshit riding wolf magic she doesn't even come close to falling off.
"You're steering," you tell her. "Just tell him which way to turn."
Aside from her directions, you ride in somber silence. Don't think about what's on the ground. After a couple of blocks you leave the killing fields behind. You're not sure whether the levitation field was localized around your particular area, or if it covered the entire city out to here. Don't think about it.
"How can you stand it?" Marie asks.
"Is not that uncomfortable a ride," you reply, vaguely insulted on Fenrir's behalf.
"Not the wolf, the scream!"
Oh. She can still hear the scream. It only stopped for you, personally.
"Hearing protection in my mask," you lie, tapping the metal covering your ears. "Is it getting fainter?"
"...yes." She brightens up. "We're escaping!"
You emerge onto the freeway, which can best be described as a giant traffic jam interrupted by occasional pileups. And most of the space not taken up by cars is taken up by pedestrians, as everyone abandoned their car and started running the moment they realized that they weren't going anywhere. Fenrir has to slow down significantly to avoid trampling people.
This isn't working. You could try to double back and find another route, but you're on a timer here. "Fuck property damage," you tell Fenrir. He stops avoiding the stalled cars and starts going over them instead, buckling metal and scratching paint as he leaps from one to the next. The ride becomes a lot less smooth, but he is able to maintain an unreasonably fast pace nonetheless. You silently say a prayer to whatever gods might be listening, giving thanks for bullshit physics.
A majority of the people you pass call out to you, trying to get you to bring them with you. You can't afford the time to stop and pick anyone up, though. You don't know how quickly the quarantine goes up when the Simurgh attacks a city, but you can't take any chances. Saving Marie is your absolute priority.
You get your phone out, mostly out of curiosity - you've entirely lost faith in the official guidelines. Four minutes, by that count. Probably a bit more for Marie, assuming Dragon started counting from when you first called her about the noise.
The road crests a small hill, and you look behind you to see if you can make out anything useful from this higher vantage point. What you see is a second sun in the sky. An angel-shaped... you frantically shut down sorcerer's sight. It may be closing the barn doors after the horse already burned down, but you're not giving her another high-bandwidth channel into your brain.
Between the distance and your bad glasses, you can't make out much in the way of details. She appears to be hovering upside down, with her wings flapping and fluttering erratically. She has, in fact, started throwing buildings at people.
Probably because she's being engaged by the Triumvirate. You think. There's a small black streak that's probably Alexandria, a blue streak emitting giant beams of light that's unquestionably Legend, and a glowing green dot that's almost certainly Eidolon.
Large jagged black shapes are forming in the air around Eidolon. As each one grows to be half the size of the Simurgh, he launches it at her. Most are blocked by flying buildings, or deflected by the flick of a wing.
Then one of them strikes her right in the torso, and sticks there. Instantly her wings go still, her arms and legs splay out and her back arches as she throws her head back.
Yes, daddy! Harder!
The black shard falls out of her chest a moment later, and she resumes her previous pose as if nothing happened. That's the last thing you see before Fenrir's path down the other side of the hill cuts off your vision. But you're not really thinking about the fight anymore.
That came in over soul's price. Again. You are undoubtedly compromised, and the Simurgh is using her all-access pass to your brain to mess with you instead of (or, you know, in addition to) making you go nuts and murder your friends and family.
Is it some weird dominance display? Look at what I could do to you, should I desire? You've never heard of her doing that before.
No, think positive. It's possible that the official numbers are right, and she only managed to hijack the verbal channel of soul's price in the time she had. Except for that part where she seemingly read your mind... No, you paid attention in computer class. Read access is not write access! You'll just keep telling yourself that.
"I can't hear the scream anymore," Marie says. "We made it!"
"We still need to get out before the quarantine goes up," you remind her. Fenrir doesn't slow down.
"There!" Marie shouts a little later. People in military uniforms have set up across the freeway up ahead. They are clearly preparing to block it off, but they don't try to shoot you as you ride past. You made it!
You take out your phone again, just in time to see 2:06 PM change into 2:07 PM. You type out a quick 'made it' to Dragon. Actually, better get some independent verification on that. Overexposure can result in summary execution. Another little technically non-secret fact that PHO doesn't want you to talk about, that you uncovered back when you were researching parahumans.
You direct Fenrir to turn around and approach one of the soldiers.
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Yes?" He regards you with a certain caution. Well, you are riding a giant wolf.
"Parahumans Low Key and Smith," you tell him. "Please log our presence outside the danger zone at 1407 hours." Marie, having no idea what you're talking about, sensibly remains silent.
"Ah." Understanding dawns across his face. "Will do!" He finds a pen, scrawls a note on his hand. But he verifies the time on his own watch first.
"Thank you. Now, which way to the rallying point?"
"Clear on the other side of the city, I'm afraid. You'll have to circle around." He indicates a clockwise direction. "Or I could radio for someone to come pick you up once it's all over."
"We'll get back to you on that."
A nudge of your knee has Fenrir turning away. You guide him several blocks away and out of sight before you dismount and help Marie do likewise.
Just some minor administrative details to take care of. You turn sorcerer's sight back on to verify that yes, Loyalty is in place.
"Ok, here's what happened," you tell her. "We never met. You never saw a wolf. In fact, you weren't even in the city. Through sheer dumb luck, you happened to be gone on some errand or other when the Simurgh attacked. The names Low Key and Smith mean nothing to you."
"Uh... okay? Sure. I don't know what's going on, but I won't tell anyone. It's the least I could do." She hugs you, squeezing tightly. "You saved my life, you know? Thank you."
You do know. You were counting on that enhanced gratitude to keep your secrets all along. You gently peel her away from you and accept your scarf back. That's definitely incriminating evidence now, so it joins your shoes and panties in the evidence bag. A quick "begone" and the bag vanishes along with the wolf.
You leave Marie behind and stroll back towards the military blockade. You hear shots ring out before you arrive. Looks like quarantine is in effect now, and someone didn't listen when told to turn back.
The soldiers look a lot grimmer on your return - no wonder, they just shot their first maybe-a-Simurgh-bomb civilian. It's unlikely to be their last.
"You're back."
"Yes. The young lady elected to make her own way, but I think I'll take you up on that ride. Just between you and me, sitting on a wolf was not all that comfortable." Fenrir gives an invisible snort of disgust at your vile slander. It's all right, he knows you didn't mean it.
"I'll call it in."
"Thank you."
You find a comfortable piece of concrete to rest your back against, and sit down to wait. You're sort of half expecting an emotional collapse now that everything is over, you've heard that's a thing that happens.
No? Nothing? Guess you're just a natural-born stone-cold badass. Yep, that's you. Smith the Tinker, born with brass balls and definitely not wearing a padded jockstrap. A small giggle escapes you. You try to clap your hands over your mouth to stop it, but of course end up bashing your hands against your mask - which just makes everything even funnier.
You just can't seem to stop giggling. You fumble for the audio cutoff switch on your mask. Mustn't disturb the nice men gunning down unarmed civilians. The, the funniest part is that none of that is sarcastic, they really are nice men, and they're- no, stop, that's not funny, it's horrible. Why is it so funny?
A small detached part of you notes that you are in fact having that emotional breakdown you were worried about. At least you're having fun with it? Yes indeedy, nothing like watching hundreds of people die horribly and having to spend the rest of your life worrying about whether you're a psychic bomb just waiting to go off and kill the people you love.
And now you're crying. Good job, Taylor. Some badass you are. Guess you lack balls after all!