Toaru Majutsu no Taylor-chan: A Certain Mythic Archmage Chapter 10: The Inevitable Endbringer Fight Part 2, a worm fanfic

A/N: Yes, there was a huge delay. Unfortunately, some things changed at work and I had to find a new equilibrium before I could get back to writing. Then it happened again. Then it happened again. Then I got hit with gastoenteritis. Not fun.

….

Toaru Majutsu no Taylor-chan: A Certain Mythic Archmage

by Shadow Crystal Mage

Chapter 9: The Inevitable Endbringer Fight Chapters! Part 2 – Actual Fighting Happens. Still Australia Jokes Though

Disclaimer: Worm created by Wildbow. Pathfinder by Paizo. All hail Gygax!

….

This thing is really inconvenient.

Eventually, Taylor found someplace to throw up. Fortunately, no one was around, so she was able to get her helmet up from over her mouth. A small part of her idly noted that given the many deficiencies of the design, redesigning her helmet should probably be given greater immediate priority when she got home.

It was a small, insignificant part, akin to a single mousy secretary taking notes as the entire office building of her brain when insane in shrieking horror from someone in HR deciding to hold a mandatory team building Twilight marathon. The mousy secretary headed back to her bolt hole to sort her notes while the Taylor Building, HQ of Taylor Inc. suffered technical difficulties and had to ask people to stand by.

In the office building of her mind, helpless Taylor Inc. employees were trapped in the auditorium of memory, watching endless reruns of blood, gore and sheep. Oh, the sheep. The bloody, gory sheep…

Taylor's stomach convulsed, and what was left of her dinner was emptied even further. Her throat burned with the sting of regurgitated stomach acid, and she tasted the lasagna and mushrooms they'd had for dinner, except sharper. The mousy secretary dutifully noted the desire to never eat meat again, and to ABSOLUTELY never, EVER try lamb, all of which was overpowered by the shrieking, terror-filled orgy of disgust, revulsion and horror playing out in the rest of the company.

She couldn't handle this. She couldn't, she was just Taylor Hebert, useless, ugly Taylor Hebert! She was an idiot who'd kept setting parts of the city on fire and was so pathetic she lost when she argued with herself! She caught sight of her reflection in a broken window. Hunched over, body language exhausted. Some specks of puke on her legs. Blood coated her arms and vest. In the afternoon sunlight, her cape looked dull and orange. She looked nothing like a hero at all, just a girl too old for Halloween playing dress-up. If it weren't for the absolutely bullshit powers she'd used in making them, the image would probably be compounded by a shabby and homemade-looking costume. So instead it looked like an impostor wearing some real hero's clothes.

"I made everything myself either by hand or with powers."

But she'd made it, made every single bit of it. She'd done the designing, the leather work, the armoring, the dyeing. The boots on her feet, the scabbard on her hip, even the underwear she was wearing so that the bodysuit wouldn't show any lines. Literally the only clothing she had on that she hadn't made herself were her socks. All of it added up to a costume fit for a hero, because that was who would be wearing it.

"I'm a hero. I got the little card and everything."

What sort of hero gets sick and panics over… over…

Blood. Gore. Sheep.

For a third time, Taylor's stomach convulsed. Fortunately, there wasn't much to throw out, and so she was stuck dry-heaving.

What kind of hero just throws up from thinking about sheep?

Alexandria wouldn't have thrown up. Eidolon wouldn't have thrown up. Legend wouldn't have thrown up.

So she couldn't either. [1d20+24! 30!]

She took a deep breath, let it out, straightened her back, stood tall, mostly by getting on top of the roiling ocean filled with the screaming desire to run, hide and puke and jumping up and down on it. She needed to act like Legend, so no more puking. No more running away. Deliberately, she activated a 1st tier power and passed it over herself with a flick of her wrist, methodically cleaning out the blood and puke stains, getting her appearance in order. After all, Legend always looked immaculate. She washed out her mouth with water from one of her containers to get the taste of puke out, then washed it down with a candy. Only then did she settle her helmet back on over her head. The re-purposed plastic buckle snapped into place with finality, tying down the scared little girl who had no place here, who didn't deserve to have a say right now, who was drowning in blood and gore and SHEEP! and needed to be ignored. She wasn't needed right now. Solomon needed to be a hero.

Her horse-shaped projection was some distance away and about five feet off the ground. With shaky steps at first that eventually smoothed out, she strode towards the projection, then lifted off the ground and settled herself on its back.

It was time to get moving. Taking control of the projection, she ordered it to–

Solomon paused– heroically!– and first looked one way, and then another. "Where the heck am I?" Damn it, every street looked like the same suburb in this city!

….

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"Dustbringer down, SA-3. Nazo no Yuusha X deceased, RG-5. Miss Bond down, OO-7. Arc Knight down, JN-1. Miló Akoúo̱ deceased, PR-3."

01001001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110011 01101000 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100011 01101111 01110101 01101100 01100100 00100000 01101101 01100001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100010 01101001 01100111 01100111 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100110 01100110 01100101 01110010 01100101 01101110 01100011 01100101 00101110

"This is Skybreaker! Be warned, the sheep appear to be coordinating, I was nearly ambushed by two groups! Repeat, the sheep seem to be coordinating! Be– SHIT!"

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"Skybreaker deceased, OB-3. Lady Helheim down, GM-6. Säbelreiter down, FT-1. Lanzenreiter down, CC-3. Nazo no Yuusha X deceased, RN-9. Mystayrious Cape X down, TH-1. Mystayrious Cape X Alter down, TH-1."

01001001 00100110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101100 01101100 01111001 00100000 01101110 01100101 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100011 01100001 01101100 01101001 01100010 01110010 01100001 01110100 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01110000 01100101 01101111 01110000 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101000 01101111 00100111 01110011 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110110 01100101 01110010 00100000 01110000 01101111 01110111 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100011 01110101 01110100 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01101101 00100000 01101111 01100110 01100110 00100000 01100110 01110010 01101111 01101101 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101110 01110100 01100001 01100011 01110100 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01101100 01101111 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110000 01100101 01110010 01101001 01101111 01100100 01110011 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 00101110

"This is Othala, our medical station is being overrun, we need Movers! We're keeping them back, but we need evac!"

01010010 01100101 01100001 01101100 01101100 01111001 00101100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110000 01100101 01100001 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100011 01101111 01110010 01110010 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01100100 01100101 01100001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 01101001 01100110 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 01110011 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110101 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100001 01100010 01110011 01110101 01110010 01100100 00101110 00100000

"Heterodyne down, AG-1. Choudenshi Sanda deceased, YL-4. Stoneward down, WK-1. DaiRockuTenMao down, NB-1. Silence deceased, SS-6. Eromanga Beer Bruce deceased, RB-5. Ebony Falcon down, BR-9. Velvet Thunder down, BR-9. Argent Silver down, YS-4."

01000010 01100001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110100 01100001 01110011 01101011 00100000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01101000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00101110

"This is Sherringford from the Thinker group, the Simurgh has assumed control of all animal life in Canberra barring the insects! Repeat, she– SHIT! SHE GOT THE BUGS, SHE GOT THE–"

01000011 01101000 01100101 01100011 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01110010 01101110 01100001 01101100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01110100 01101001 00101101 01101001 01101110 01110011 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01100011 01101111 01110101 01101110 01110100 01100101 01110010 01101101 01100101 01100001 01110011 01110101 01110010 01100101 01110011 00101110 00100000 01001110 01101111 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110011 01100101 01100011 01110100 01110011 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110100 01100101 01100011 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110011 01101001 01100100 01100101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110010 01100100 01110111 01100001 01110010 01100101 00101110

"Sherringford deceased, MH-1. Nazo no Yuusha X down, GD-2. Redhawk deceased, JM-1. Blackhawk down, JM-2. Yellowhawk deceased, JM-1. Bluehawk deceased, JM-2. Whitehawk deceased, JM-1. Meltdowner down, SI-5. Frenda deceased, SI-5. Regend down, KS-7. Void Lizza deceased, US-1. Sciuridae Lass deceased, SG-3. Captain Hammer deceased, NF-6. Kill Puddle deceased, DP-3. Nazo no Yuusha X deceased, GD-2. Island Mask deceased, ES-3. Santa Kamen deceased, TS-1."

01000001 01101110 01110100 01101001 00101101 01101001 01101110 01110011 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01100100 01100101 01100001 01100100 01101100 01111001 00100000 01101110 01100101 01110101 01110010 01101111 01110100 01101111 01111000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01101101 01100001 01111000 01101001 01101101 01110101 01101101 00100000 01100101 01100110 01100110 01101001 01100011 01101001 01100101 01101110 01100011 01111001 00101110

"This is Eclipse Phase– !"

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"Eclipse Phase deceased, FF-6. Steelheart deceased, RT-1. Talent Breaker down, AS-6. Governor Philippines deceased, KR-4. Sky Ranger Gavin deceased, PH-9. X-OR down, FR-9. Zaido Pulis Pangkalawakan deceased, GM-7. Machineman deceased, SK-4."

01001110 01101111 01110100 01100101 00111010 00100000 01110010 01110101 01101110 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01101010 01100101 01100011 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101100 01101001 01101011 01100101 01101100 01111001 00100000 01100101 01100110 01100110 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01101111 01101110 00100000 01010000 01101000 01101001 01101100 01101001 01110000 01110000 01101001 01101110 01100101 00100000 01110000 01101111 01101100 01101001 01110100 01101001 01100011 01110011 00101110

"This is Elsecaller, everyone be warned, the sheep seem to be going after Endbringer shelters! Shelter 04-85 is under attack!"

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"Endbringer Shelter 04-85 has fallen."

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"This is Nazo no Yuusha X, yes, the one who seems to die a lot, I've sighted some kind of mutant dinosaurs coordinating with the sheep! Repeat, there are mutant dinosaur things with the sheep!"

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"Nazo no Yuusha X deceased, SQ-5. One Way Road deceased, RG-3. Arash deceased, BR-1. "

"This is Mang Aswang, can confirm that there are mutant emus coordinating with the sheep. They appear to be partially mutated, since some have ram horns and wool in some places, but are not completely converted. Be advised many of them no longer have wings, repeat, no wings, they have some kind of hoof claws instead. Likely other animals have been mutated as well. Where the fuck are they all coming from? Fuck this conti– "

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….

Bzzt

"Mang Aswang deceased, SS-7…"

Solomon tuned out the armband. The medical station was deserted. Tents had been knocked down and there were the fallen bodies of people and sheep and things in between wearing the clothes of the nurses and bits of singlet and shorts and barbecue sauce. Some had been shot execution style. There was a lack of unused medical supplies strewn among the mess, however, and Solomon hoped this meant people had been able to evacuate. At the least, her bag of paradrugs wasn't among the wreckage. She hoped that was a good sign.

A few of the sheep and what she now knew to be mutated emus had been lingering in the area. Perhaps the Simurgh's control over them wasn't as absolute as had been hinted at over her armband?

She didn't hang around to fight them creatures, instead just dropping a bead that exploded into flames behind her, growing into a sphere of heat and concussive force that was more than enough to deal with the things as she turned her projection northward. She outran the nauseously delicious smell of cooking lamb and poultry as she willed her projection forward towards the Simurgh for lack of anywhere else specific to go to. She had ridiculously overpowered abilities she needed to use on it, because no one else could.

Then she heard the cries.

She should have hesitated. After all, the Simurgh was north, right? But no. A hero saved everyone. She turned toward the cries, her projection flying over buildings as she made straight for the source of the sounds. She reached down to the scabbard on one hip, drawing out a length of black metal with a grip at one end. The club fit in her hand like it belonged there, as if speaking to some kind of Neanderthal instinct to splatter the brains of her enemies to death with a stick. It was a feeling that was disturbingly neutral about whether it was heroic or not. It shouldn't be, but…

Ahead was a group of sheep clustered around something. From her approach high above the street, Solomon could make out three figures, two of whom were down on the ground. One was apparently unconscious, since they weren't moving. Another seemed unable to get up, lying on the ground and trying to keep the sheep back with what seemed to be sprays of corrosive sparkles that ate through flesh like glitter from hell. Only the third was still mobile, but obviously tiring. They moved with an eerie, paranatural smoothness, evading the sheep by the barest margins, the knives in their hands stabbing with pinpoint precision to deliver instantaneous death through eyes and necks. By the way they were slumping and swaying, they were also clearly exhausted. Or possibly infected and mutating, given all the blood and other bodily fluids on them.

Solomon charged, a power already preparing itself. She made her horse projection head up, out of range as she went down, letting gravity take her the last twenty feet and hitting the ground near the three in the approved 3-point landing. Her knees told her how much they hated her as she unleashed lightning in all directions. The lightning curved unnaturally– or perhaps paranaturally– around the three parahumans as they lashed out at every mutated sheep within thirty feet. The air filled with the smell of charred meat and death and annoyingly well-cooked mutton as lightning blasted them all. Body fat fried and burned, and bodily fluids flashed to their gaseous states as the sheep all died.

The bare handful of sheep just beyond the perfect sphere the lightning encompassed 'baah'd in shock, stumbling back in surprise. The one with the knives threw them both, each taking a sheep in the eye in what Solomon would have called a total bullshit move if she couldn't also do the same thing herself. Corrosive glitter tagged a few more as Solomon sent more lightning at the survivors, the energy arcing from one to the others around it. The area around them was soon filled with dead ovines with surprising suddenness. It was all very quick and methodical, with no wasted movement, as smooth as if she'd planned it over a table complete with little figurines and arrows pointing at targets.

Taylor Hebert's stomach would have clenched at the fresh waves of char and meat assaulting her nose, would have heaved despite previous spirited attempts to void her stomach. Solomon ignored all that as irrelevant to heroics that needed to be done and turned toward the girl covered in blood and other intimate fluids.

Who... seemed to be shaking and heaving, before hastily pulling down the hood she was wearing over her head and pulling off a portion of the mask on her face. Solomon smoothly stepped aside as the girl heaved and made spirited efforts to void her stomach. From the smell, it seems she'd eaten lasagna recently.

Leaving her to her own devices for the moment, Solomon turned to the other two, taking quick note of their costumes. Sparkles was clad in a combination of purple and magenta, including a purple visor and long two-tone hair, with some kind of six-pointed starburst on her chest, so Solomon tentatively pegged her a hero of some kind, since villains rarely did the chest insignia thing. It seemed vaguely familiar. Probably part of some advertising campaign. Most likely corporate instead of PRT, if only because of the hair. One foot was pointing entirely the wrong way. The unconscious one was just a kid. Either she was really small for her age or she was just 10. Her costume was vigilante off-the-rack chic, consisting of steel-toed boots, thick socks, knee pads, cargo shorts, a blue jacket she'd zipped up to the neck, one of those black cloth mouth masks bikers wore and visor-like ski goggles. Long red hair was partially obscured by a bandage around her head. Any blood on it was mostly implication.

There was no instinctive leeriness at the girl being a redhead. That was Taylor's hangup. Solomon knelt down, tapping into the medical Thinker knowledge granted by her equipment to examine the girl. Part of this involved prying up the goggles over one eye to check for a reaction. She tapped her limited emulator, before touching her with a striker power specifically geared to simultaneously heal any injuries, remove any infection of hellsheep virus and purge tiredness.

As Solomon stood, the one in purple was just starting her own dry heaves, with extra pained overtones from the misaligned limb. The other one– dark body suit made of some material she couldn't readily identify so probably either high-end armor or Tinkertech, belt with throwing knives and daggers (which are not the same thing), hood, cloak that looked like someone had run it partway through a shredder– was wiping her mouth with the end of one of her cloak tassels, looking in concern at the blood on her hands and basically everywhere else.

"Are you okay? Do you feel feverish? Itchy? In pain?" Solomon asked.

The parahuman looked at her, nonplussed at the questions. "What?"

"Those seem the likely symptoms if you have been infected by whatever the sheep are carrying," Solomon said. "What with you being covered in infected blood and all."

Solomon was mildly surprised to see them sigh. "Of fucking course it's infected. And here I was only worrying about poison. Silly me." They nodded to her. "I'm Foresight, by the way."

"Solomon," she replied. "If you want, I can heal any infection but I'd need to touch you. And possibly scrub the blood and bodily fluids off you, or else you'll just get infected again."

"You can heal?" Foresight said, surprised.

"Yes," Solomon said mathematically. "May I?"

The Foresight warily held out her hands. Accompanied to the sounds of dry-heaving, Solomon used her really useful 1st tier power to clean the blood off of her costume, and spent the next few seconds trying to get all likely infected material off before finally reaching forward and taking the girl's arm, activating her lesser emulator. The girl shuddered suddenly as her body was abruptly healed, any latent diseases purged as her fatigue suddenly vanished. "Whoa," she breathed as Solomon let her go. "That's… new."

"Take a moment to get used to it, and if you can keep an eye out, please?" Solomon said, before turning towards the last person there, who had just finished having her own upward gastrointestinal episode as the redhead next to her began to rouse. She took the initiative and figured they wouldn't object too much to having a power used on them to get puke off their chin and front. Or get her leg back on straight too, for that matter. "Hello. Do you want me to heal you?"

One more burn through the limited emulator later, and the one in purple had both feet properly pointed in the right direction and was no longer in pain. Solomon also had to new names to know now. The girl in purple was Sunset Dust (Hero, Corporate, Hasbro), and the redhead was Move Point (vigilante, heroic, way underaged, would probably be nabbed by the Wards or equivalent as soon as this was over if she lived that long).

"Well," Foresight said, "Thanks, I suppose. How lucky and convenient someone with grab bag lightning and healing infectious diseases powers just happened to come by right when we needed it."

Solomon sensed that Foresight might be a smartass.

"You're welcome," she said graciously, because she was a hero. Sure, Taylor might have suggested drenching this one, but heroes didn't do that sort of thing unless the person in question was on fire. "We should probably get moving. I doubt we'd enjoy being surrounded by sheep again."

"Obviously," Foresight said with the sort of atmospheric humidity usually found in the heart of the Sahara. She turned to Move Point. "You up for another jump yet?"

"Give me a sec to check where we are," Move Point said in a strange, surprisingly granny-like voice and tone for someone who seemed to be on the hormone-deficient side of puberty as she checked her armband device. "I guess we don't need to go to the medical station anymore, so… "

"It's closed anyway," Solomon said. "Sheep attack."

Foresight swore. Sunset Dust grimaced. Move Point sighed. "Fuck this place, the Simurgh can have it."

"Over my cold dead corpse and nuclear contingency," Solomon said evenly.

The three stared at her.

"Ooo-kay, pump the edge brakes a little there," Foresight said. "You're not some kind of crossbow-wielding manic with a deluded predator obsession, after all." She paused. "Are you?"

"What's wrong with crossbows?" Solomon said, offended. She was good with her crossbow, if she said so herself.

"Er," Sunset Dust said, inching away slightly, "you don't actually have a…"

"Not right now, no," Solomon said, aware of the uranium sample she'd picked up on the way here, technically stuffed in an adjacent dimension. No point in getting radiation damaged, after all. "But I'll figure out something just as good when I get to her."

Move Point boldly stepped behind Foresight, using the taller girl as a human shield, as if she expected Solomon to fission react and explode right then and there anyway.

Bzzt

"T-this is Mystayrious Cape X at Canberra Hospital. The hospital and attached Endbringer shelter is under attack by sheep and weird dinosaur things and… rabid koala? ARGH! Shit, they're climbing the walls, they're climbing the walls! We need backup! Send help!"

Bzzt

Move Point sighed again. "I repeat: fuck this place," she said, sounding like a granny complaining about the kids playing on her lawn as she checked her armband. "It's not far. I can get us there. I just need to make some calculations…"

She meant that literally, pulling out a magnetic compass, a scientific calculator, a protractor, some string and chalk from a hard case on her belt. Sunset Dust, apparently used to this, helped hold the other end of the string.

"Huh," Solomon said, tilting her head, bemused. "Actual calculations. With math and everything."

"I know, right?" Foresight said. "Every time Henshin says stuff like that she's just pulling stuff out of her ass. I sort of respect Move Point more for actually doing math. "

Solomon stared northward for a moment, where there were flashes of light and color high in the air and a small white shape in the middle of it all.

"Did you have somewhere else to be?" Foresight said as she checked her knives. There was an implication of raised eyebrow. Bitch.

Solomon waved a hand negligently. "I was heading to punch the Simurgh in the face, but that can wait. This is more important." Remembering her projection, she looked up and let herself drift upwards.

"Hey, where are you– is that a flying horse?" Foresight said, hands pausing. The other two looked up as well. Move Point's chalk froze.

"Don't be silly. It's a projection that looks like a flying horse," Solomon said as she brought it down to ground level. "There's no such things as flying horses, after all."

"Ah, of course. Silly me," Foresight said blandly.

"Damn it, I've lost my place!" Move Point cried.

….

Move Point's teleportation apparently used herself as a reference point when teleporting beyond line of sight, which was why math needed to be involved when teleporting blind at a distance. They arrived within sight Canberra Hospital and it's attached Endbringer Shelter with appropriate heroic aplomb. Meaning they showed up fifteen feet off the ground and only Solomon's quick reflexes managed to save Foresight and Sunset Dust from a fall that could have broken their ankles. Move Point, upon realizing they weren't at ground level, merely teleported again and put herself there instinctively. Then teleported again when she realized she was surrounded by sheep.

Sunset Dust released corrosive particles as soon as she got her bearings, hanging awkwardly as Solomon kept her out of the ground. Foresight, she threw. She moved like she already knew it would happen, shifting her balance back and forth as if they'd done this before, long knives glinting in her hands as she arced smoothly through the air. With measured, confident smoothness, she landed in a conveniently clear area surrounded by sheep and began to cut their throats open, dodging the spurts of blood and attempts to attack her with all the casualness of someone walking in their own home. With her tiredness purged she was moving as smoothly as a CGI nightmare, stepping between and around sheep as if it were all a choreographed dance she'd practiced for weeks. Blood flowed freely.

"Thinker?" Solomon asked Sunset Dust, still dangling from her hand as various flavors of mutated sheep screamed in pain beneath them, dust eating through their bodies as the pavement remained unmarred.

"Definitely some kind of Thinker," Sunset Dust agreed. "Could you find somewhere to put me down?"

Metal shutters had rolled down over the hospital's windows, and they weren't the only parahumans who had arrived on the scene. There were Blasters on roof, shooting down into the sheep for technicolor fire and exotic also-technicolor energies, along with some Tinkers doing the same. Some of the windows where open, with security guards, nurses and volunteers shooting down with shotguns, but the sheep-koala mutants had made them seal up windows lest they get in. Some had cracked, but the insides had been secured by some kind of steel shutters (Solomon wondered if that was standard. From what she'd seen of this continent, it probably was). A Brute in tights with a military camo pattern had uprooted a traffic sign and was swinging it at the sheep, sending them flying, but the sign was clearly breaking, and the Brute had a desperate look in his eyes. Someone in a blue bodysuit who looked like they were made of wood seemed to be making more headway, and seemed less afraid of getting overwhelmed. A figure in power armor with a red scarf at the neck was wielding what looked like two cartoon drills stuck together to form an outrageous double-ended spear... thingy and laying around them enthusiastically. From the sound of it, there were other defenders on the side of the hospital she couldn't see.

She didn't hesitate now, joining in the defense enthusiastically as Sunset Dust joined the blasters on the roof. Solomon threw herself at a particularly thick knot of sheep-mutated wildlife as she activated a tenth-tier power she had been afraid to touch back in Brockton for fear of being accused of arson.

She was kind of surprised nothing happened to her vision. It didn't darken or brighten. No aspects like motion or color became more or less prominent. She wasn't suddenly seeing in infrared or ultraviolet, or some other exotic wavelength. Her vision stayed completely normal, despite every inch of her body and equipment for all intents and purposes bursting into flame. It felt like a mildly warm but refreshing breeze blowing over her body.

To the sheep she was landing on, it felt exactly like a body-sized mass had just burst into intense flame as it dropped onto them: really fucking hot. Those who didn't catch fire on contact with her tried to stumble back, seemingly blinded by the light she emitted. Her body seemed to move even smoother as she dashed rapidly through the sheep, striking them barehanded and setting them on fire with a touch, bodies combusting from their wool's own oil and body fat. She moved with the dexterity of a flame dancing on a wick, as opposed to her usual dexterity of a fish flopping on a deck, striking at the sheeple with every part of her body she could, furiously ignoring the cringing, heaving part of herself that wailed and cried at the fire and death she caused.

Unexpected help arrived in the form of Foresight, who moved to pincer the sheep, giving them a choice between death by incineration or death by surgical strike. There was no time to be envious of the smoothness and archetypal deadly grace of the other parahuman's moves, of how she moved like this was a dance and had been the only one to practice there moves. Issues of inadequacy was Taylor's hang up. Solomon was a hero. She didn't have them.

Sheep burned and died. They died screaming. They died panicking. They died trying to slam her with their hooves or ram her with their horns or tear her apart with their hybrid wool-covered emu-raptor claws. Her protective field kept her from feeling a thing. They died massing against her with sheer numbers. They burned en masse as she punched back, her fists breaking bone and making roast on contact. The ground beneath her blackened and charred, what little blood that fell drying and turning black. She moved systematically, keeping the hospital to her left as she took out the sheep, launching explosive beads at distant sheep, sometimes dropping them straight at her feet if she needed some space. The force and heat of the explosions was strangely refreshing. Other parahumans began to close in, using her as an incinerator, pushing the sheep towards her as they could. The sheep had the option to burn or… whatever alternate means of death the other parahumans had.

Before her fire ran out, the hospital was clear of danger but for ruined and smoldering plants and the strong and completely inappropriate smell of delicious well-cooked mutton. Because of all that throwing up, she was now hungry, ugh.

There were no cheers, only relief as many people almost collapsed where they stood, tired.

Solomon didn't let herself be one of them as she floated herself over the burning ground, swaying slightly, her head buzzing with the adrenaline rush of the fight. She firmly locked down on any heaving, stomach clenching, or unseemly desires for a mental breakdown. It was getting easier now after her… what, third, fourth real fight? Did mutant sheep count as a real fight? At least with the cloak on she couldn't see her own hands shaking.

Up on the roof, one of the Blasters let out a warning, sending a gout of… well, it was some kind of energy that moved through the air like glowing water, striking something down the street out of her view. She heard the now-familiar sounds of mutated hooves on pavement, heard cries as the other defenders on the ground got each others attention.

She still had more fire.

Solomon charged out into the street, following the direction of the blaster powers flying overhead, taking care not to set anything on fire by passing it. She could hear footsteps behind her following suit but keeping a safe distance back as she met the mutant sheep of various sizes– there were a bunch of cat and dog-sized ones mixed in with this group– and once more dove into their midst, disconcertingly delicious smells briefly wafting into the air once more…

….

Bzzt

"The Simurgh has been repelled. Biohazard quarantine is still in effect. Please stand by for further information. The Simurgh has been repelled. Biohazard quarantine is still in effect. Please stand by for further information. Nazo no Yuusha X deceased…"

There was no room for a ragged cheer. There certainly didn't seem to be anything worth cheering about.

No one in the impromptu group that Solomon had found herself in broke formation at the announcement, besieged as they were. Behind them, the ambulance that had been pressed as emergency transport rocked slightly as some of the children pressed toward the windows to look, only to be pulled back by the adults, as if not being seen by the sheep would keep them from being hurt. The unconscious form of Nazo no Yuusha X of the many false alarms had been tossed onto the roof to wait out her 'death', the front of her costume stained with the blood she'd thrown up before she'd collapsed.

The villain Party Time stood amidst a small crowd of her clones, her pink party dress pristine compared to theirs, which were covered in gore. Gore was the latest fashion in Canberra, apparently. Everyone was wearing it. Her clones, made of air and latex and powers, weilded various long blunt instruments scavenged around them, mostly well-used tree branches, although one had a stop sign ripped from out of the ground, and another had a fire axe. For some reason, the fireaxe had a built-in bottle opener and a sticker by a local beer manufacturer reminding users not to beer and fight fires at the same time. She and her clones made up most of their muscle, although meat shields they weren't. For one, they popped pretty easily, so balloon-wave tactics were used to take advantage of the time they had before one hit made them explode in a burst of disgustingly flesh-colored rubber. They rushed at the sheep, pushing them back by sheer numbes and swinging their weapons recklessly to get one or if they were lucky two hits in. When the clones at the front inevitably popped, the ones behind them would catch there dropped weapons with practiced ease and step right into their place. It was a not-surprisingly loud form of combat as many human-shaped ballons exploded every few seconds.

Sunset Dust had stayed with her, using her powers to spray sheep from the roof of the ambulance and keeping Nazo no Yuusha X from sliding off. Her corrosive dust could be set to either eat through living matter or non-living matter (some kind of Manton effect thing) but not both at the same time, so she carefully made sure the real Party Time wasn't in her range as she blasted the sheep around the immune balloon clones.

Standing next to the Ambulance was the nuisance villain who called himself The Gentleman, who handled their defense. His striker power caused air to briefly seemingly harden into an elastic, allowing him to singlehandedly protect a large area by creating a pseudo-wall of rubber-like air.

Among the sheep, trying to draw them away from the ambulance were some guy named Imperia who projected a Shaker effect that caused anyone caught in it to move towards him no matter which direction they went, and his partner, Gladius, who used a sword that seemed to transfer a disproportionate amount of kinetic energy to whatever it touched, which caused a lot of interesting slice, splat and splash, as appropriate.

Solomon was with them, making sure no one got behind Imperia, the greatsword in her hands cleaving through the sheep with only mass and muscle and, okay, tinkerteh-enhanced strength, but all the slicing was on the sword! The quarters were too close for her area effect powers, the targets too many for her precision ones. It would be something she'd need to correct when she got home. She wasn't built to fight an army too stupid to be afraid or surrender, not when she couldn't be indiscriminate. She fell back on her seemingly limitless energy, an forcefield too strong for anything short of military explosive ordinance, and a body that can benchpress quadruple digits.

Eventually, they ran out of sheep, clearing the area around the ambulance. There was no fire this time, so no one was assailed by disturbing barbecue smells.

Time… hadn't passed in a blur. Things hadn't all flowed together to make her lose track of time, leaving her with only flashes of memory. Yet that seemed exactly what had happen, like the perverse evil twin of time flying when you were having a good time. Things had just kept happening, and found herself once more being caught by the flow. It seemed like she was watching things from outside herself as they escorted the ambulance towards the nearest shelter, where they momentarily had to clear the sheep that had gathered in the front.

The others stood guard as people got out of the ambulance, Solomon checking them for signs of infection or any open wounds before letting them through. Even the children. Especially the children. The announcement had come through that the infection took hold very fast in prepubescents. Taylor Hebert would have shuddered at the thought of how they'd found that out. Solomon didn't have that luxury.

Night was falling, and there was a distinct lack of streetlights. Power hadn't been restored to the city yet, though it looked like the Tinkers would be able to work on it now. The hospitals were running on generators and were overcrowded to boot. Unfortunately, with the sheep still around it hadn't been safe to turn off the lockdown measures and set up emergency facilities in the parking lots.

Already, some parts of the horizon were glowing with the undulating orange light of fire (Which she definitely hadn't caused, no sir, it must have been some other parahuman with incendiary grenades! You can't prove anything!). Despite this, it was strangely quiet. Sirens and other noises tended to attract the stray sheep.

Bzzt

"Um, is this thing on? This is Mang Bruce calling for help, we were just having a karaoke victory party in the park when these susmariyosep sheep showed up around the time we started setting off the fireworks– "

Solomon facepalmed. Seriously, fuck this continent.

With a groan, she checked the location on her armband and began to float her way towards it…

….

It was a commonly known but commonly ignored fact that the PRT was not an international body, having jurisdiction only in the United States, Canada, Puerto Rico and the Conch Republic (don't ask). Still, responding to Endbringers required an international response, and as the oldest organization with the most infrastructure, the most resources, the most Tinkers and being based in the US, the PRT generally took charge of the aftermath of Endbringer attacks until they could be safely handed off to the local authorities of whichever country had been attacked.

Many people, officials bidding for re-election (who were probably people, but given the stuff they often managed to sink to, it was depressing to think of them that way) and national pride groups objected strongly to this 'post-globalization American para-imperialism' and felt they should take charge of their own destiny, show they were just as good or better than an organization that just happened to be based in the US, we don't need no stinkin' foreigners! The ones who tried inevitably ended up bitching at the lack of aid from the international community and either had to establish a media black out around the circumstances of the aftermath of the Endbringer attack, or were completely unable to due to lack of manpower, money, food, supplies, shelter, order, OH GOD HELP US, WE'RE SORRY FOR CALLING THE PRT NAMES, PLEASE GIVE US FREE STUFF SINCE WE HAVE NO MONEY!

And grumbles aside, the PRT was experienced at dealing with the aftermath of such situations. The cities in ruins, the dead, the homeless resulting from the city in ruins… they had experience patching together the quick publicity stunt band-aid and leaving the long, hard work to the local government, whatever was left of it, while they dealt with whatever exotic mess had been left behind.

In this case, that had been a fast acting, multi-vector mutagenic virus that mutated any vertebrate and some invertebrates that came into contact with it into sheep, released during the confusion of the attack. The invertebrates ended up acting as carriers, and given how it was near physically impossible to make sure you've gotten to every infected ant and flea in an area the size of a city, someone was already pulling up plans to seal off Canberra, scorch the earth around it, and pray that Australia's typical lethality would do the rest.

In other words, the typcal response for something getting to Australia and going out of control, again.

The Australian government had sighed about losing a nice area that was green and had water and resigned itself to moving the center of government to what was left of Sydney. After all, that's where people already thought it was anyway.

In the meantime, decontamination procedures were set up on top of the usual procedures to cursorily check that no one (employed by the PRT) had obviously gone nuts from being around the Simurgh (villains were out of luck on that score, but who'd notice?). In most cases, the tracking information from one's armband, and the fact it hadn't blown you up for being around the Simurgh too long, sufficed to act as proof that you were as sane as you were likely to get.

There had still followed a series of distressingly chemical showers and standing around in a too-hot and then too-cold room getting decontaminated, which hadn't taken place until the next day, and only after her armband had notified her it was needed. Solomon hadn't slept, instead wandering the night like some kind of edgy anti-hero who had sworn eternal vengeance against evil after their parents had been shot on the way home from the movies. Why sleep? She had a power to remove fatige and exhaustion, and what kind of hero would she been if she stopped to take a nap when people were suffering under the onslaught of evil mutant biotinker sheep?

She didn't find much. Apparently even evil mutant biotinker sheep had to sleep. She killed the ones she found, reproting how much larger and distressingly anthropomorphic they'd gotten. She spent an hour watching one fall asleep and slowly get bigger as it rested, like some kind of hellish balloon. She used a power to call up a darkness that devoured to kill it and those around it when they started developing concerning armor plates.

Solomon had eventually found her bags, both completely empty of paradrugs, sticky and smelling faintly of Mountain Dew, blood and other organic things. There was a sheep's head in one of them. The other held a six-pack of beer, a six-pack of Mountain Dew, and a sheet of paper filled with various messages of thanks.

She threw out the head and did her best to decontaminate the bags. Someone was happy to take the beer and caffeine drinks off her hands as PRT troopers wearing armored space-suit-like bio-warfare armor began to roll into the devastated city and took over the evacuation and extermination. Smoke had begun to rise and gunfire echoed through the air as she was cleared to return to Brockton Bay, asked to quite firmly so that she wouldn't get in the PRT (and local PRT affilate's) way. Clutching the sheet of paper in hands that definitely didn't shake, she headed home.

The basement of the house seemed strangely mundane when she appeared in it. Stepping partially through the portal to her pocket dimension, enough for her telepathic links to her projections to activate, she threw in the bags and told them what to do with them. Then she headed upstairs, shedding her costume piece by piece. Outside, the bright, noontime sun seemed obscenely cheerful, the suburban quiet ominously still. The TV was on, the local news giving an update about the Endbringer attack.

She found her dad passed out in front of the TV, a cup of cold coffee next to him. She paused, before turning away and heading upstairs to the bathroom. She shed her wetsuit-like underlayer on the tiles before she stepped into the shower and turned the heat up full blast.

Finally bereft of every trapping of heroism, no longer Solomon, Taylor Hebert collapsed into a ball of nerves and started to shakes as the water tried to wash away a city's worth of filth, blood, gore, and the linger sell of sheep barbeque.

A small, insignificant part, akin to a single mousy secretary taking notes remembered to shut the door properly so her dad wouldn't walk in on her as the Taylor Building, HQ of Taylor Inc. finally had too much of his shit and shut down for the day.

….

- To be continued…

….

A/N: Yes, I know it took too damn long. Yes, I know you're disappointed at the lack of a Simugh fight. Yes, I know you're going to loudly proclaim about all the spells that should totally kill an Endbringer in one hit. Congratultions, you have the plot for your own Taylor fic. PM when you write it, hmm?

….

OMAKE!

….

All right people, let's do this one more time…

My name is Taylor B. Hebert, I was stuck inside a disgusting locker, and got weird powers out of it. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

You see I saved the city, fell in love with a girl, we started dating, saved the city some more, maybe too much, my relationship got testy, made some dicey money choices (don't invest in a zombie-themed restaurant), weeks have passed, blah blah blah, I broke my back, my head got bitten off, a drone flew in my face, I buried my emotions, my girlfriend and I split up but I handled it like a champ. I maybe cried in the shower a little. Okay, a lot. Now, no matter how many hits I take, I always get back up. I had some time to work on myself. Did you know that sea-horses mate for life? Could you imagine a sea-horse meeting another sea-horse and then making it work? She wanted me and I... got scared. I think I broke her heart. Flash forward, I'm in my secret base doing some arts and crafts, Tinkering, gettin' strong. When suddenly this weird thing happened. And I gotta say weird things happen to me a lot but this was really weird. I was in Brocktonport, but not my Brocktonport. And then out of nowhere this girl tried to decapitate me. Not the first time that's happened. Hi, I'm the Whispering Tyrant!

…

All right people, let's do this one more time...

My name is Taylor C. Hebert, I was stuck inside a disgusting locker, and got weird powers out of it. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

You see I stepped on the school, then kinda stepped on the city, then killed the Simurgh then ate the Simurgh then everyone tried to kill me, then I kinda accidentally mindraped a bunch of people who were trying to kill me, then I punch Alexandria to India, weeks have passed, blah blah blah, I broke my school, moved to Arcadia, a drone flew in my face, I buried a supervillian by accident, my dad and I split up but I handled it like a champ. Now, no matter how many hits I take, I always get back up. Mostly because I kinda don't notice them unless Alexandria goes for my head or something, and then I fall over. I had some time to work on myself. Did you know that sea-horses mate for life? Could you imagine a sea-horse meeting another sea-horse and then making it work? Ugh, who'd want to be stuck with sea-horse drama for life? Flash forward, I'm in my apartment planning to find Leviathan and eat him, gettin' strong. When suddenly this weird thing happened. And I gotta say weird things happen to me a lot but this was really weird. I was in Brocktonville, but not my Brocktonville. Also there was this creepy zombie.

My name is Taylor Hebert, and I'm the S-class Pseudo-Endbringer called the Endslayer.

…

All right people, let's do this one more time...

My name is Taylor G. Hebert, I was stuck inside a disgusting locker, and got weird powers out of it. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

You see I saved the city, messed with some villains minds, saved the city some more, maybe too much, my home life got testy so I Mastered my dad and now we're okay, made some dicey money choices (don't invest in a Gazebo-themed restaurant), weeks have passed, blah blah blah, I broke a nail, my Gazebo bit some heads off, a drone flew in my face, I buried Emma alive. Now, no matter how many hits I take, I always get back up. I had some time to work on myself. Did you know that sea-horses mate for life? Could you imagine a sea-horse meeting another sea-horse and then making it work, instead of the first sea-horse betraying the other sea-horse for a bitch and eventually getting buried alive? Me neither. Flash forward, I'm in my Gazebo, patrolling, planning to mess with Tattletale so she tries to make out with Faultline, gettin' strong. When suddenly this weird thing happened. And I gotta say weird things happen to me a lot but this was really weird. I was in Brocktownsville, but not my Brocktownsville. Also there was this giant monster and a zombie. Obviously I had to do something! So of course I tried binding them to my will. Hi, I'm Persona!

…

All right people, let's do this one more time...

My name is Taylor S. Hebert, I was stuck inside a disgusting locker, and got weird powers out of it. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

You see I stomped the Merchants, worked on reconnecting with my dad, saved some playground equipment, went abroad, saw some sheep, made some dicey money choices (Don't invest in Mountain Dew-flavored beer), weeks have passed, blah blah blah, I died, I woke up, a drone flew in my face, I buried Emma in legal fees, made a minion of this girl I met in the mall to keep her out of trouble. Now, no matter how many hits I take, I always get back up. I had some time to work on myself. Did you know that you could generate rolling nuclear explosions? Could you imagine, a nuclear bomb that kept exploding over a period of time instead of all in one go? Flash forward, I'm painting some playground equipment and hoping to get done before the food trucks arrive, doing good in the community. When suddenly this weird thing happened. And I gotta say weird things happen to me a lot but this was really weird. And that's when a giant, a zombie and a gazebo complete with a tea table and someone to drink it fell on me.

…

The phone in PRT Agent Gregg's office rang.

"Agent Gregg speaking," he said, not looking up from the report he was typing. "Oh, hello Solomon, what can I do for you? Ah, doppelgangers from another universe need to fill out Form 2814-GLNNH. No, it's not something you can usually ask for at the front desk. Don't worry, I'll have someone get some ready for you. How many do you need? Huh, that many? Wow, sounds like a busy day. You're welcome. Good bye."

…

My name is Taylor F. Hebert...

My name is Taylor K. Hebert...

My name is Taylor W. Hebert...

Ich heiße Schneidrin D. Hebert...

My name is Taylor P. Hebert...

My name is Taylor Y. Hebert...

Watashi wa Hebert Saihoko desu ...

My name is Taylor R. Hebert...

My name is Taylor 5 Hebert...

Ako si Taylor T. Hebert...

My name is 74`/|_0R |-|E8Er7...

My name is Taylor A. Herbert...

- -.- -. .- - . .. ... - .- -.- .-.. - .-. -.-. ... . -... . .-. - ·-·-·- ·-·-·- ·-·-·-

01001101 01111001 00100000 01101110 01100001 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01010100 01100001 01111001 01101100 01101111 01110010 00100000 01000001 01001001 00100000 01001000 01100101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110100 00101110 00101110 00101110

We're pretty sure you know the rest.

…

Super Taylor Taisen:Into the Taylor-verse

Starring Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert,

Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert,

Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert, Taylor Hebert

featuring Taylor Anne Hebert

and Introducing Taylor Hebert as Foresight

Coming Soon To a Fanfic Near You.

….

Please review, C&C welcome.

Until next time, this is Shadow, signing off.