With Great Power: Sound Off
The setting sun warmed Taylor's bones as she swung through the city. The wind hummed a tranquil tune through her velvet-lined hood, whispering past her cheeks and neck as the cool breeze trailer down into the depths of her brand new suit.
And what a suit it was. Taylor's initial appreciation hadn't done Parian's work justice. Her costume fit like a second skin, stretching and forming around her muscles no matter how she flexed or bent. The golden webs along her shoulders and thighs caught the fading light, shimmering like threads of liquid fire.
And wearing it felt amazing. Spectacular, even.
“I’m telling you, Em, it’s not just the look,” Taylor said, her voice dropping into the small microphone Emma had threaded into the collar of her suit earlier that day. “It feels awesome too! It's like I'm wearing nothing at all!”
To illustrate her point, Taylor did a quick series of complicated moves that would boggle the most professional gymnast, ending in a low dive that left her only a foot away from splattering herself against the pavement. The web in her grip tensed, bringing her back up to a safe height, and she heard Emma take a shaky breath in her earbuds.
“While that's all well and good Taylor, can you try not to give me a heart attack? You know I don't do well with heights and all that flipping is not helping.”
“Sorry,” Taylor chuckled, returning to swinging normally, “But you get what I'm saying, right?”
“I get that you're freaking crazy,” Emma grumbled as Taylor landed on a pizza restaurant and draped her legs over the side of the building. Several people down below caught sight of her almost immediately, and she couldn't resist doing a cute little pose as they began to take pictures of her. “Ooh, and narcissistic too! Good combo.”
“Pictures are gonna wind up on PHO anyway,” Taylor shrugged. “Might as well make sure they're good ones.”
“You poor thing, thinking you can control your public image. Does it make me a bad friend to say I'm looking forward to seeing you fail?”
“Yes, actually, and you should feel ashamed.”
“Oh… Well I don't.”
“I figured.”
Taylor resumed her patrol, swinging through the city looking for something to do, someone to save. It was quiet today, not even a cat in a tree to rescue from certain doom. Taylor didn't mind as it gave her the chance to just chill out and talk to her best friend. She could hear Emma working on something in the background, tinkering, but the girl was more than used to splitting her attention by now so the conversation didn't suffer for it.
“Excuse me?”
“Look, all I'm saying is that you have a bias.”
“I do not!”
“You totally do! Why would you pick Glory Girl over literally anyone else? It doesn't make sense!”
It didn't make much sense to begin with, in Taylor's opinion. How would she ever be in the position where she had to fight the entire Empire and Lung at the same time? And why did she only get three teammates?
“Look,” Taylor huffed as she swung around a building, “you asked me for my opinion, and I gave it. Miss Militia, Armsmaster, and Glory Girl are my picks!”
“Your opinion sucks and you're biased.”
“Oh my god.” Taylor sighed, preparing to mute her friend to put her in time out, but zemma stopped her.
“Hey, look over there. That warehouse. Is that who I think it is?”
Glancing over, Taylor's eyes widened. She slowed her swing, landing silently on the edge of a soot-stained chimney as she looked at the figure standing on the rooftop of a cold-storage facility three blocks away. Even from this far, the blue and silver power armor of her once-favorite hero was unmistakable.
Taylor debated slipping away before he saw her, remembering her last interaction with the man, but curiosity quickly won out. She fired a line and swung over, landing ten feet behind the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate.
He didn’t turn his head immediately. He stood like a statue, the visor of his helmet glowing with a steady, clinical light as he scanned the harbor below.
“Your new costume is a significant improvement over the previous iteration, Widow,” Armsmaster said, as if he could see her without even lookihg. “Parian’s craftsmanship, I assume.”
“Yeah, I figured it was time for an upgrade,” Taylor said, stepping forward. “I assume you’re not just up here for the view.”
“I am conducting a sweep for strange signals coming from this area. So far, I haven't managed to place them,” Armsmaster replied, finally turning. The blue glow of his visor swept over her. “In the meantime though, I have been reviewing the evidence from the Empire Eighty-Eight dog-fighting ring that was busted two nights ago.”
Taylor’s stomach did a slow, nervous somersault. “I heard the police had a busy night.”
“Not only the police,” Armsmaster said curtly. “We found significant quantities of a unique synthetic polymer at the scene. An adhesive that matches the chemical signature of your webbing. Cricket was also reported to be in the area, and all signs point to a skirmish between her and someone else.”
He stepped closer, his armored boots clanking on the roof. “Cricket is a lethal combatant. If an untrained independent were to engage her alone, the results would typically be fatal. You are lucky to be standing here, Widow.”
Taylor looked away, the scab on her collarbone throbbing poignantly under the new fabric of her suit. “I know. I made a mistake. I thought I could handle it… I realize now how close it was.”
The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw and for a moment, the clinical edge in Armsmaster’s voice seemed to soften.
“Acknowledging the error is the first step toward avoiding a repeat of it,” he said. “But you’re still being reckless. If you continue to pick fights, it won't be long before you have more enemies than friends. The Wards would provide you with the training, equipment, and backup necessary to survive those encounters. You wouldn't have to face people like Cricket alone.”
“I appreciate the offer, Armsmaster. Especially after the other night,” Taylor replied, crossing her arms. “But I still prefer to work alone. I have my own way of doing things.”
Armsmaster, lips flattened into a thin line “Most people do, until they no longer have the option. Please take my advice and think about it; independents don't tend to last very long in a city like ours.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Armsmaster stared at her for another moment before nodding curtly and turning away. He pulled his halberd from his back and pointed it at the roof of an adjacent building. There was a hiss and an electric pop, before a hook attached to a thin line shot from his weapon and carried him upward.
Taylor watched him go, the blue glow of his armor fading from sight. She finally released the breath she had been holding.
“That was ominous,” Emma muttered in her ear. “Is he always like that?”
Taylor followed Armsmaster’s lead, leaping off the building and swinging into the air. “That's the longest conversation I've ever had with him but… yeah, I'm starting to think so.”
“What a buzzkill,” Emma clicked her tongue. “Still, he’s right about one thing—you need more than luck. Good thing you’ve got me.”
“Yeah,” Taylor smiled, “You’re the only team I need.”
Emma retched in her ear, “Gross. Don't say sappy crap like that. You'll make me barf.”
“I can hear you smiling.”
“...Shut up.”
~~~
After that encounter with Armsmaster, it took maybe another twenty minutes for Taylor's patrol to be interrupted again. Though this time, said interruption wasn't nearly as pleasant.
She swung through the city just outside the Docks, sticking to the shadows of the industrial warehouses and old abandoned factories, when a sharp series of pops echoed through the salt-choked air, making her freeze.
Taylor paused on a light pole, staring off in the distance with a tense expression. “Emma, did you hear that?”
Another series of pops, followed by a loud bang preempted Emma's response. “You mean the gunshots? Yeah, I heard them. I'm not seeing anything about something going on over in your area, so it must have just started.”
“I'm gonna go check it out.”
“Be careful.”
Nodding, Taylor launched herself into a high swing. The gunfire was coming from nearby, around a block away, further into the Docks. Taylor moved through them rapidly, running along walls and jumping across gaps, until she rounded the corner of a shipping container yard.
Around half a dozen ABB thugs were surrounding a single figure. The newcomer was clad in a bulky, industrial-looking suit of purple and black armor over a bodysuit. It was clearly tinkertech of some kind – heavy, reinforced plating. The most striking features were the massive, oversized gauntlets and boots that glowed with a pulsating yellow light.
The ABB goons were unloading into the cape, but the bullets seemed to lose momentum or veer off-course as they hit a shimmering yellow field around the armor. Taylor's teeth chattered in her skull and her bones pulsed, like the feeling that came from someone playing music far too loud just outside your house.
Sound-based weapons? Or maybe vibration. What's that yellow light? Taylor wondered as she watched the battle unfold
As the grunts stopped to reload, the cape in the purple suit raised a gauntlet.
BOOM.
A wave of fluctuating energy slammed into a group of ABB thugs, throwing them into a stack of pallets like ragdolls. Some got up, some didn't, and Taylor decided it was probably time to stop this before it got out of hand.
Leaping high into the air, she dove into the fray. As she plummeted, she fired two lines of webbing, snagging the barrels of two rifles being leveled at the purple cape’s side. With a violent jerk, she ripped the weapons away, tossing them into the harbor.
“Sorry, boys! Mind if I cut in?” Taylor called out, flipping in mid-air and sticking to a container. Eyes turned towards her in confusion and panic, and even the cape in purple momentarily angled his gauntlets towards her in surprise
The ABB thugs yelled in confusion, before one of them pointed her way. “Kill that bitch!”
“How rude!” Taylor didn't even give them a chance to pull out their sidearms, leaping from the container and into their midst in an instant.
They reacted quickly, but she was already moving before their fists flew. She swept the legs out of one man and flipped over another, planting her foot into his back and causing him to stumble into his friend. They grappled for a moment, confusion and panic overtaking them, and Taylor webbed them together, taking them out of the fight.
“To your left.” Emma's voice came calmly, and Taylor’s danger sense buzzed in time with her warning, urging her to lean back and dodge a pipe aimed at the back of her head. The man swing again, but Taylor caught his strike in an iron grip.
“You know, I gotta admire the persistence, but you had to know this was a bad idea,” Taylor jerked the man with both arms, sending him head over heels as she stole his weapon from him and stuck him to the ground.
Another man lunged with a knife. Taylor caught his wrist, twisted it, and fired a fist into his solar plexus. He folded like an accordion, landing in a groaning heap by her feet.
A loud roar caught Taylor's attention and she glanced to her left. Four ABB goons piled into a black pick-up truck which screeched into gear the moment the door closed. It's tires scraped against the pavement as it picked up speed, heading right towards Taylor in an attempt to run her over.
Taylor prepared to jump out of the way but she didn't have to bother. The cape from earlier stepped in front of her and crossed his arms over his chest, clashing his gauntlets together.
A high-pitched, piercing shriek burst from the gauntlets and shattered the glass in every single building nearby. A visible ripple of distorted air slammed into the truck, buckling the engine block and sending the vehicle skidding backward where it breathed one last dying breath as the men crawled out of the cab on their hands and knees.
And just like that, the fight was over. The purple cape lowered his hands, and sighed as he relaxed. He glanced at her, expression completely hidden by his futuristic mask.
“Nice moves out there, kid.”
“It’s Widow,” Taylor corrected. “Are you alright? I saw you take a hit before I jumped in.”
“Nothing I can't handle,” he pounded on his chest, the armor dinking loudly against his metal gauntlets. Taylor eyed them, watching as soft yellow strips of light pulsed through the bulky machinery.
“I haven't seen you around before,” she said. “Are you from out of town?”
“A little ways up North, yeah,” the man nodded, holding out a hand. “The name's Shriek. Independent.”
“Nice to meet you, Shriek,” Taylor said. She looked around at the groaning men scattered across the pavement. “Not a fan of the ABB, I take it?.”
Shriek glanced at the men around them, “More like they aren’t fans of me. They were after my tech. I guess they figured the new guy would be easy pickings.”
Taylor chuckled darkly, “Yeah, they aren’t exactly the brightest.”
Shriek nodded, “Mind cleaning up for me? I don’t really want to be here when the boys in blue arrive. I’m not really the type to give statements, if you catch my drift.”
“I think I do,” Taylor nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll take care of it.”
“Good. Stay safe, out there, kid.” With a loud hiss from his boots, Shriek propelled himself upward, his bulky silhouette blurring against the darkening sky as he vanished over the roofline of a nearby warehouse, a duffel bag that Taylor hadn’t noticed before clutched tightly in his hand.
Taylor watched him go for a second before turning back to the task at hand. She moved efficiently, firing lines of webbing that pinned wrists to ankles and torsos to the asphalt. She hummed a little tune under her breath, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. Her first real mission in her suit, and she’d already helped another cape fend off a gang and stuck one to the ABB while she was at it.
Today was a good day.
She approached the black pickup truck, where the driver was still struggling to untangle himself from the steering wheel. As she reached down to pull him out and secure him, the man looked up at her, his face a mask of bruised, bloody desperation.
“You…” he spat, a glob of red landing on the charcoal fabric of her boot. “Why are you working with that asshole?"
Taylor paused, her hand hovering over a web-nozzle. “I’m stopping a gang of thugs from jumping a lone cape. That’s what heroes do. Maybe you should try not attacking people because you want their stuff.”
“Attacking him?” The man let out a wet, wheezing laugh that turned into a cough. “We weren’t jumping him for his gear, idiot! That cunt hit one of our businesses! We were trying to get our shit back!”
Taylor felt a cold spike of doubt pierce through her earlier satisfaction. “He said you were coming after his tech.”
“Are you fucking dense? He stole from us!”
“Emma,” Taylor whispered, her stomach turning. “Did you hear that?”
“I heard,” Emma’s voice came back, and she sounded uncharacteristically subdued. “Hold on a second. There's some stuff popping up on the boards about loud bangs coming from a pier near you. Pier… thirteen–no, fourteen.”
That pier was uncomfortably close to the Union’s head office. Her dad was still at work.
Taylor didn’t even wait to finish webbing the driver. She turned and sprinted toward the edge of the containers, launching herself into the air with a violent pull of her webs that sent her rocketing into the air like a bullet.
She swung with a ferocity that made the air scream past her ears. The city was a blur of gray and black below her, the orange of the sunset long gone, replaced by the harsh, artificial glare of the Dock lights.
When she arrived, the scene was significantly worse than the first fight.
The air was thick with the smell of smoke. Two cars had been flipped onto their roofs, their frames twisted like discarded soda cans and the main wall of a rather large storage warehouse had a massive, jagged hole blasted through the brick and steel. The concrete of the pier was buckled and cracked in radiating circles.
Men lay scattered across the ground. They weren't wearing the colorful jackets of the ABB. They were wearing reflective vests and dirty jeans. Taylor didn't recognize any of their faces, but she knew their type. The same as Kurt or any of her dad's other friends. They were just regular workers.
Taylor's eyes narrowed in silent fury as Shriek stepped out of the gaping hole in the warehouse, his duffel bag bulging with ill-gotten gains, only to pause as she landed in front of him
“I thought you said you had problems with the ABB,” Taylor's voice was low and threatening as she blocked the man's path. “These people don't exactly fit the bill, do they?”
“They got in my way,” Shriek said, slowly setting his duffel bag on the ground. Taylor's hands clenched into fists. “They should have minded their own business, and so should you. Walk away, kid.”
Taylor smiled thinly under her mask. “Hate to tell you, but this kinda is my business.”
Quick as lighting, Taylor slung both her hands out, attaching a thick spray of webs to Shriek’s front. He stumbled before he was lifted bodily off of his feet, flying in an arc around Taylor as she used her webs as a tether to sling him away from the unconscious dock workers.
He flew a rather large distance, slamming into the side of an empty shipping container hard enough to rock it. He fell onto his hands and knees and shook his head, before raising his head to watch as Taylor ran toward him.
Shriek shook his head and got to his feet, pointing his hands at Taylor as his gauntlets began to vibrate. There was a screech, and then a yellow-ish shockwave shot across the distance between them, visibly distorting the air as it moved.
Taylor leapt into the air, dodging the sound wave which continued past her and even further beyond, dissipating somewhere over the waters of the bay with a splash. Taylor swung through the air, attached to a tower crane lingering nearby, and Shriek followed her with his hands, keeping her in sight.
“You shoulda just left it alone, kid!” He called as he charged up another attack. “I don't want to hurt nobody I don't have to!”
“It's way too late for that!”
Another pulse of energy blasted out of Shriek's gauntlets. This one was wider than the last, rippling like water as it passed through the air. Taylor webbed the roof of a building below her, zipping down and landing on the edge as it passed harmlessly through the air behind her.
Landing on the ground, she closed the distance in a blur. Shriek raised his gauntlets for a close-range burst, his palms glowing a blinding, sun-bright yellow. “Eat this!”
Taylor didn't veer away, stepping right into the blast as the small buds in her ears began to vibrate an opposing tune.
Shriek let loose. As the blast hit her, the dampers screamed. Taylor felt the pressure in her chest, the air being pushed out of her lungs by the sheer weight of the sound, but she weathered it as she stride forward and closed the distance between them in an instant.
She grabbed Shriek's glowing gauntlets, her superior strength forcing his arms down and away. He struggled, the armor hissing as he tried to trigger another pulse, but Taylor was too close. She slammed her knee into the midsection of the suit – a part unprotected by armor – and heard a satisfying oomph from inside the helmet.
She spun him around, using his own bulk against him, and slammed him face-first into the concrete. As he reeled, she grabbed his hands, pulled them behind his back, and fired a continuous stream of webbing, wrapping his gauntlets together in a thick, reinforced cocoon.
“Stay down,” she hissed, pinning him to the ground with a knee in the center of his back.
Shriek groaned, the yellow light of his boots flickering and dying. He squirmed in his bindings, trying to find a way out, before seemingly realizing there was no escape. He let his face fall back into the ground, chuckling wearily. “You really are good, kid.”
“I’d appreciate the compliment a lot more if it didn't come from a filthy liar,” Taylor hissed. “Why were you attacking this place? These people are civilians. I thought you were a hero!”
“I never said that. You just assumed,” Shriek rasped. Taylor's knee dug into his back harshly and he coughed. “Don’t take it too personally, kid. This is just another job for me. Don't matter who I have to hit, I don't mind breaking a few knee caps for some high-grade tech and a fat paycheck.”
Taylor reached over and yanked the duffel bag open. Inside were several high-end processors, a crate of military-grade servos, and a variety of specialized circuit boards.
“Emma, look at this,” Taylor whispered.
“I’m looking,” Emma’s voice returned, filled with a hungry, technical awe as she watched through the goggle-feed. “That’s some seriously high-grade stuff.”
Taylor reached into the bag and pulled out a small, palm-sized piece of tech – a dense collection of gold-plated circuitry that seemed to sparkle in the light. She examined it, before moving back to Shriek and kneeling down, showing him the evidence of his crimes.
“This is the third time that I've heard or seen something involving people stealing tech,” Taylor said. “Trainwreck, the break-ins, now you. Mind giving me the inside scoop before they haul you off?”
Shriek let out a dry, metallic laugh. “I don’t ask questions, kid. And if you’re smart, you wouldn’t either. The people paying for this stuff clearly don’t like being in the spotlight. They paid for me, after all.”
Taylor went to press, but suddenly, the webbing around Shriek's gauntlets began to vibrate with a violent intensity. A low, subsonic hum started to build, making the very ground under Taylor’s knee shake. The webs began to fray and Taylor reached down to stop him but wasn't quite able to make it in time.
It wasn’t a shockwave this time. It was a pulse of pure, raw sound designed to liquefy the inner ear and scramble the brain’s equilibrium. Taylor felt the world tilt. Her vision went white, and for a split second, that same primal terror she felt against Cricket returned, the feeling of her brain being turned into static.
But then the dampers kicked in even harder. Taylor felt her earbuds vibrate with an immediate, aggressive counter-frequency. Emma’s tech met Shriek’s wave head-on, neutralizing it in a pocket of eerie, distorted silence. Taylor didn’t stumble or fall. Just like before, she could barely feel it.
She lunged forward, her palm slamming into the front of Shriek’s purple glass mask. The impact snapped his head back, his helmet hitting the concrete with a final, definitive clack.
The sound cut off and Shriek went limp as he was forced into the land of dreams.
Taylor took no chances this time. She spent the next three minutes webbing him to the asphalt, creating a cocoon so thick he looked like a sculpture of white marble. She stuck his boots, his gauntlets, and even his helmet directly to the pier, though she made sure to turn his head so he wasn't face down.
“You know,” Taylor panted, leaning against a shipping container as she wiped sweat from her brow. “It’s a really good thing you made these dampeners.”
“I’m a genius, I know. I didn't think you'd need them this soon, though,” Emma's voice glowed with pride Taylor could feel through the comms. “As payment for saving your life, grab the duffel bag full of goodies. It’s better off in our hands than with the ABB or collecting dust in lockup, right?”
Taylor looked at the bag of high-end parts. Emma was right; letting the ABB get this back or letting it go into a police evidence locker where it would likely be stolen again was a waste.
As she shouldered the bag, the low, powerful roar of a high-performance engine broke the silence of the pier. Taylor turned, her eyes honing in on a single, bright headlight approaching fast from the main road.
A high-tech motorcycle, silver and blue, skidded to a halt twenty yards away.
Armsmaster stepped off the bike, his halberd unfolding into its full, intimidating length in one smooth motion. He looked at the downed dockworkers, the hole in the warehouse, and finally, at Taylor and her webbed-up prize.
“Did he follow you?” Emma whispered, as he walked up.
“We were making a lot of noise, Em,” Taylor whispered back. “I guess I rang the dinner bell.”
“Armsmaster,” Taylor called out, trying to sound casual despite the heavy bag on her shoulder. “You’re late to the party.”
The hero walked forward, his boots clanking on the concrete. He stopped by the dockworkers, leaning down to check their vitals. “I was occupied with the cleanup at the harbor. You left behind a pretty big mess.”
“It was mostly his fault,” Taylor said, pointing at the purple cocoon. “He tricked me into thinking he was a hero. I had to stop him before he leveled the pier.”
Armsmaster walked over to Shriek, looking down at the unconscious Tinker. He frowned, his visor dimming as he ran a database search. “Shriek. He's an independent mercenary who's been active on the East Coast for around three years now. This is the first time I've heard of him visiting Brockton Bay.”
He looked at Taylor, his disapproval palpable even through the armor. “You did a good job containing him, but you also managed to do quite a bit of property damage in the process. You should have left it to the authorities.
There’s no pleasing this guy, Taylor thought.
“Well how about I do that right now?” Taylor said, “Since you’ve clearly got it from here, I think I’ll call it a night and leave you to handle the important stuff.”
“One moment,” Armsmaster said, holding up a gauntleted hand. His gaze fixed on the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. “The stolen property. I will take it into evidence.”
Taylor felt Emma’s frustration flare in her ear like a sunspot. No! Don’t you dare give it to him! Taylor, tell him it’s yours!
Taylor hesitated, before sighing.
“Fine,” she tossed the heavy bag to the hero’s feet. “It’s mostly all there. According to him, that's what he was hired to steal so I'd look into that.”
She knew she was going to. Yet again, she'd run across someone keen on stealing high-grade tech and she knew the saying: once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern. Something was going on here.
Armsmaster picked up the bag, weighing it. “I’ll file this as recovered evidence. You will be credited for the recovery in the official report, provided you submit a full statement later this week.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll look great on my non-existent resume,” Taylor muttered. “I’m out of here. Goodnight, Armsmaster.”
She fired a line and swung off into the darkness, leaving the hero alone with the mercenary, and the cleanup. And her alone with an irate friend her again.
“I can’t believe you gave him all that loot!” Emma yelled as soon as they were a few blocks away. “Thats the second time you've done that! Do you just hate me or something? You can tell me if you do.”
“Emma, chill,” Taylor said, a small grin spreading across her face as she landed on a quiet rooftop. She reached into her belt and pulled out the small, gold-plated module she had swiped. The circuits shimmered under the moonlight, looking like a piece of jewelry.
“I said it was mostly all there,” Taylor held up the piece to the camera in her goggles. “You can make something with this, can't you?”
Emma was silent for a long moment. “...I'm still mad at you, but just a little bit less now.”
“I'll take it.”
“Get home now,” Emma said, clacking away at her keyboard. “I want to see that thing in person. If it's what I think it is, I'm going to have a very productive weekend.”