04-28-2010, 02:03 PM
"I'm telling you, it'd make a lot more sense if they built a proper damn disposal center," the man grumbled as he grabbed one of the crates handles, grunting from the weight as he and his co-worker lifted, moving the metal crate from the back of the truck to the trolley. "Damn," he added as they dropped it with a crash. "We drive in, back up on a platform and just tip all this crap in," he continued, grabbing boxes of shredded documents and putting them next to the crate.
His co-worker gave him a bland look. "This is about your back again, isn't it?" he asked, picking up a box of what sounded like glass jars.
"No, it's not about my back," he shot back, rolling his eyes. "It's about the fact we have to drive to all these little places, all over town and use incinerators in supposedly abandoned buildings. It's inefficient, and well, kind of creepy."
Before he could continue, the older man waved a hand. "John, we work for Crey," he said. "We get paid well, don't we?" John paused, then nodded. "You know that there are things we throw in the fire that we want to know nothing about, don't you?" John nodded again. "If Crey wants to burn away their dirty little secrets somewhere no one is going to look, we keep our mouths shut, take their money and accept we're being sneaky about-" he stopped as the crate emitted a brief 'thud' and a soft grunt. "Um."
John blinked, looking at the crate, then at his co-worker. "Is this one of those things we ignore?" he asked, then stepped back as the crate shook with another, louder thud. There was a third thud, and then one of the corners pushed up, the nails starting to come loose slightly. The men looked at each other briefly, then jumped as a pair of tiny feet slammed into the crate lid, snapping timber and sending half of it flying.
As they watched, the feet vanished back into the crate and a young girl stuck her head up, smiling at them as she tried to smooth down her messy, knotted, light pink hair. "Hello!"
After a long moment that involved a lot of the two men looking at each other with rather shocked expressions, and the girl trying to deal with her case of crate-hair, John turned back to the girl. "Hello," he managed. "I... what were you doing in that crate?"
She smiled playfully as she climbed out, revealing she was wearing a power armor softsuit over her tiny figure, tears and burns visible in places. "Now now," she scolded, waving her finger at him as she sat on the top of the crate. "Remember, your job means you should take their money, and you really shouldn't ask questions." The smile faded slightly, becoming more serious. "Actually, that's really a good idea. Crey likes to keep their secrets, after all," she pointed out. "And mentioning a girl-in-a-box might be taken the wrong way." With that, she slid off the box and stood up, her tiny size and young features doing a remarkable job of continuing to freak the men out. She picked up the section of crate lid she'd kicked off and more or less shoved it back into place, then turned back towards them. "Drop that in the incinerator," she suggested. "You never saw anything odd, never really looked at what you'd been told to burn, and you never looked inside, so..." she shrugged. "Where are we?"
"Uh, Kings Row," the older Crey employee replied, looking slightly ill as his mind wandered towards the question of how many other girls in boxes he'd burned to ash.
For her part, she seemed to pay little attention to his distress, consulting her mental map. "You don't happen to know if there's a charity bin around, do you?" she asked.
Nodding jerkily, John pointed a hand back towards the closed roller door behind them. "Three blocks down, in the car park," he managed, and she smiled yet again.
"Thank you," she chirped, bowing slightly, then jogging towards the exit.
Both men watched as she hit the door controls and let the door slide up just enough to duck under, and the girl vanished into the night. There was a long, unpleasant silence, then both men turned towards each other. "So... boring night," John said. His friend nodded, and they grabbed the trolley and hurried the crate towards the incinerator.
***
The streets were deserted, a fact that Archer found herself incredibly grateful for as she jogged in the direction the men had pointed her. Even in Paragon, a young girl in a rather tight bodysuit would probably draw attention. The smile she'd shown the disposal workers faded as she ran, replaced by a lingering concern, almost fear. She reached the car park quickly enough, finding a large charity bin with the logo of the Salvation Army hidden a considerable amount of graffiti. Pausing to give the vandalism an irritated look, she pulled the hatch open and stood up on the tips of her toes, looking in. Then she made a satisfied noise and climbed up, sliding in feet first. "Yay for being small," she noted, smirking at the thought of someone like Violet trying this. Then she giggled at the thought of Violet breaking into a charity bin, before her smile briefly faded as she wondered just what had happened to the others. Before she really had time to consider it, her chest and head slid into the bin and she dropped onto the pile of clothes and other assorted items, and she found herself looking at a very surprised Clockwork Gear. "Hello!" she smiled, then giggled as the tiny automation tried to hide the phone it was dismantling behind its back. "Don't worry," she told it. "I'm here for pants. You can keep that."
Tilting its head to the side, the Gear considered that, then nodded and scrambled over to a corner, giving her some space. Snickering, she started digging through the clothes. As she held up a shirt and considered it in the poor light available, her mind wandered back to her friends, and the question of just what had happened to them. As she'd been trained, she stripped the events down, focusing on the key points. She remembered Violet vanishing, and Rider racing off to find her. Ruby had clashed with a Power Tank, Breaker had made a distraction, and then she'd personally had a run-in with a Volt Tank. After that, there'd been a brief moment of pain, before it suddenly ended, and there was nothing until she'd woken up in a box, on her way to being... She shivered slightly, realizing just how close she'd come to... she pulled her mind away from that, focusing on the task of clothes. She pulled a bra out of the pile, looked at it, then shook her head. One, it was clearly too big for her rather non-existent chest, and two, the concept of wearing someone else's dirty underwear was just plain disturbing.
A few items of clothing later, and she'd found a shirt at least, followed by a pair of battered white sneakers that were only half a size too big for her feet, something she considered quite a stroke of luck. She wasn't quite as lucky with pants, eventually finding a pair that had to have the legs folded up quite considerably, but she decided they'd do for now. Struggling into the pants proved to be an interesting exercise, as she squirmed around in the confined space, nearly kicking the Gear by accident before it buried itself under a towel for safety. But soon enough she was lacing up her shoes, then starting on the task of escaping from the bin again. It was a bit more awkward then sliding in, the hatch trying to drop shut on her without a weight on the outside, but a few minutes climbing and squirming gave her enough room to get a decent hand hold, pull her legs out... then lose her balance and fall a few feet to the footpath. "Ow," she declared, sitting up. "Stupid concrete."
The streets were still empty, and Archer wondered if this was normal for Kings Row at night. She was sure that there should at least be someone around. Still, at least she was dressed now. And assuming that the two Crey employees didn't want to risk anyone killing them or generally making them suffer, Crey would assume she'd been burnt into little pieces of ash, or whatever it was that Scimitars were reduced to after being dumped in an incinerator. So her situation was looking up, she decided. Now, she just needed food. And somewhere to sleep. And money, given she'd probably need to pay for the food and a place to sleep.
Frowning, she turned to look back in the direction of the warehouse with the hidden incinerator. "...No, it's probably a bit rude to go back and ask if I could borrow fifty dollars," she decided, picking a direction at random and starting to walk. She failed to notice the remarkably tall woman leaning against a chimney on a nearby rooftop, watching her carefully. The large feline ears sticking out of her hair twitched in brief amusement as she overhead the girls comment.
"I thought you'd retired from the mentor business," said a voice from the earbud she was wearing. "You'd grown tired of sitting on the sidelines, watching as others charged into danger?"
Neko Romanova smiled faintly. "You know how it is Silicon," she replied with a shrug. "Old habits die hard. And my old co-workers know it," she added with a chuckle. "'Oh, if you go here, you'll find a girl that could do with someone pointing her the right way' they tell me, knowing damn well I won't be able to just ignore it." She watched the girl pause to study her reflection in a window, fixing her messy hair a bit more. "And I think she's one of yours, actually." She could almost hear Sylia's attention sharpening. "No hardsuit, but she was wearing a rather battered Crey power armor softsuit and leaving one of their 'hidden' disposal sites."
"I see," the other woman replied after a moment. "What do you suggest?"
"Parnell told me about this girl," she noted. "He's of the 'cryptic, annoying manipulator with a heart of gold' school of mystical mentors. He would have had his reasons for telling me. Let me handle this for now, find out what those reasons might be."
"Very well. Good luck."
Neko was about to reply, when the sound of a woman's scream cut through the night. She straightened up, body tensing, and she glanced at the street to see that the mystery Scimitar had broken into a run, heading directly for the source of the scream. "She's got the instinct," she smiled, then began roof hopping.
***
The scream led her towards the back of a collection of old warehouses, and the sound of deep, angry chanting in a language she'd never heard, had her suspecting what she'd find, even as she ran around the corner. She wasn't disappointed. Crey may have held to moral beliefs that the young bumaroid, with her strong opinion of right and wrong, heroes and villains, had found herself unable to serve, but their training was good, and the robed, arcane looking men in front of her looked exactly like she remembered from a dozen briefing sessions and training operations.
The Circle of Thorns, she remembered. An army of ancient spirits, possessing the bodies of people with magical potential they'd murdered to use as puppets. The Crey Security officers had used other, longer descriptions, and had gone into detail on short term alliances with the Thorns in the face of other threats, possible test subjects for study... but none of that had mattered to her. They were murderers, and right now, they were standing in a circle around a woman that was floating inside a strange green fire. Crey had briefed her on that too. Again, there had been a lot of long, semi-scientific explanations and descriptions, all of it wrapped in a disgusting layer of unconcern for what it truly meant, but Archer had formed her own opinion, based around her own surprisingly strong morals, which led to more then a little anger as she realized that the Thorns were going to have one of their ghosts possess this woman and use her body as an unwilling puppet.
It never occurred to her to worry that she'd lost her armor in the escape. Nor did it bother her that she had only minimal training in hand-to-hand combat, or that she was unarmed, going up against nearly ten men with knives, crossbows and dark magics. There was an innocent in danger, and to her, that was all that mattered. One of the cultists heard the sound of her feet against the gravel and turned, just in time to see her make a flying leap and, with more luck then skill, plant both her sneakers into his nose. It drove into his face with a satisfying crunch, cartilage and flesh giving way under the impact, and he hit the ground even fast then her, with barely a sound. Archer hissed as her elbow sent a flash of pain up her arm as she landed in a clumsy roll, but she was already scrambling to her feet as the other Thorns turned towards her.
"A hero?" one of them wondered. Archer charged, ducking under a dagger and driving her fist into the wielders stomach. It hit with more power then one would expect from such a small girl, and he doubled over in unexpected pain. The girl reached up towards his head as it came down, grabbing it and guiding it towards her rising knee. He let out a choked, pained scream as his blood stained her pants and she released him, letting him fall to the ground and clutch at his face.
"Pretty much," she replied with a grin as she lowered her leg back down. "Now, let's get on with-" she squeaked as they all charged at once, and she scrambled backwards, trying to stay away from the knives. Behind them, the woman they'd been planning to murder dropped to the ground, looking rather surprised, before she scrambled to her feet and fled. She was fast enough to keep her distance, and there were enough Thorns coming at her that they were almost tripping over each other to get at her, but that wasn't going to last long. Archer may have been brave, she may have been dedicated, but the honest fact was, she was a young girl in ragged clothes, not quite five feet tall. Hardly an intimidating sight to a group of ancient body-stealing ghosts, a part of her mind pointed out to her, even as she leaned back and kicked, slamming her foot into the closest Thorns knee. He screamed and started to fall, but the one next to him lunged past, knife gleaming as he aimed for her chest -
- and then the space between them exploded. The blast was surprisingly focused, with a directed shockwave slamming into the Thorns and throwing them back, several of them hitting the warehouse wall with painful sounding cracks as they bounced. Enough of it washed back over Archer to knock her off balance and she tripped, landing on the ground with a slight wince. For a moment, there was nothing but the groans of injured Thorns, many of them experiencing pain and injury again for the first time in centuries. Then, the dust cloud blocking her view was dispersed by the breeze, and the Scimitars eyes widened. Between her and the ghosts in their stolen corpses stood an incredibly tall woman, her back to Archer. She wore a simple brown suit, and in her right hand, she held the hilt of a Vanguard Sword that powered up as the girl watched, a bright blue light launching out and forming into a seemingly solid blade. The buckler on her right arm unfolded and emitted the same light in a curved shield. Archers eyes were drawn to the long, sleek tail that waved behind the woman as she walked towards the Thorns with casual ease. "I suppose you must be some of the newer ghosts your friends stole bodies for," she commented, amusement tinging her voice as the remaining cultists managed to get to their feet. "Clumsy, poorly trained... and the sort of cowards that can only attack a child with a dozen extra parasites to held them." The amusement in her voice had vanished, replaced by cold steel. "What else would one expect from the servants of demons?" she asked, coming to a halt and raising her sword to a ready position.
Archer stared at the woman, surprise on her face. For a brief moment, this new arrival had her stunned. Why was there a giant catwoman standing in front of her aiming an energy sword at a group of body stealing ghosts? Then her brain caught up with the situation and, even as the Thorns got their bearings and charged, she realized that she recognized her, from several of the countless briefings that Creys black-suited security agents had given their newly created Scimitars. Purrfect Shield, a sword/shield scrapper (Obviously, the back of her mind snarked), and a member of Riot Force, who were considered by Crey as an alpha-one threat, mostly due to the fact that was where most escaped Scimitars seemed to end up. She was apparently some sort of teacher or mentor, and one rather grumpy agent had stated she'd used to be a cat sitting on Purrfect Archers shoulder, although she didn't know what to make of that.
And right now, she was seeing proof that the reports on her skill level were, if anything, understated. The Thorns charged towards the tall woman, and she merely waited for them to get close enough, then exploded into action. Her shield smashed into a face, her blade drove deep into a bicep, she turned, putting her shield between her and an incoming blade, before using her size and strength to shove the attacker in question off balance. Before he could regain his balance, she ripped her blade out of the other Thorns arm, and brought it up in a wide arc that cut the cultist wide open. He dropped, arcane energy consuming him as the ghosts anchor to its stolen body shattered, and the woman moved on, cutting out the next Thorns legs from under him before bringing up her shield to deflect a crossbow bolt.
Two of the Thorns seemed to be coming to their senses, and they turned and fled even as Purrfect Shield ripped their colleagues apart. She turned to see them vanish around a corner, and tensed as if to give chase, but then shook her head and relaxed. For the first time since her sudden appearance, she turned to where Archer was still sitting on the ground, having watched the action with a stunned expression. The tall woman studied her for a moment, then powered down her equipment, her blade vanishing and her shield folding away. "Well, you certainly have courage," she said quietly. "Mind you, courage alone won't achieve much, as you may have just noticed." Archer blinked, looking up at her. "You charged straight in, unarmed, with no protection whatsoever. Reckless of you." As Archer frowned, the woman turned to look at some of the scattered Thorns. "Still, you've had decent hand to hand training," she mused. "Nothing too flashy, aside from the initial entrance, and that used the advantage of surprise well," she said, using her foot to roll over the first Thorn that the girl had taken down, looking at his crushed face. "In a one on one fight with any of these idiots, you'd likely have won. But it wasn't that kind of fight, was it?"
"No," Archer admitted as she got to her feet, watching the seeming amazon cautiously. "It wasn't."
"And yet, you charged right in," Purrfect Shield said. "You would have been killed, or even worse, given some of the powers of these scum. Why? Why did you come here, why did you fight?" she asked, her voice hard. "Why did you almost throw your life away?"
"Because someone was in danger," the smaller girl shot back. There was no doubt in her voice, no uncertainty. "Someone's life was in danger, and I had to help them. I couldn't ignore it or walk away. That's not the sort of person I am." There was a fire in her voice as she stepped closer to Shield. "Call me reckless if you want, but that's who I am. I run into danger, I face the challenges, I embrace the risk!" She glared directly into Shields eyes, irritated that moving so close to the woman meant she was giving herself a sore neck from having to look up so high. "I've paid the price to be who I am. My family paid that price. I won't insult their memory by abandoning that path now."
There was a long moment of silence, with Archer glaring up at Shield, the taller woman merely looking back down with that same calm, disapproving expression. It ended with Shields face suddenly shifting into a small, but approving smile. "Good girl," she said softly, and Archer blinked, her righteous glare being replaced by sudden confusion. "You're off to a good start, assuming nothing goes wrong," she continued. "You've got fire, a sense of justice and the willingness to listen to it. We'll have to work on your common sense, it seems," she noted, her smile becoming a little more playful, "but that's hardly an unusual thing around here." Archer continued to stare at her, utterly confused, and the womans amusement grew. "Just let me get these zombies sent off to the zig, then we'll talk properly, over some food."
Archer had been about to protest and demand some answers now, but those last three words drew her attention to the empty void in her stomach. The last time she ate was... well, before everything went to hell, honestly, and she had no real way of knowing when that was. And so, she nodded with only slight reluctance.
***
"...Heh."
"What?"
"Just thought of something."
"Oh yeah?"
"Damn shame, throwing away a perfectly good white girl like that."
"... It's taken you this long to think up a smartass comment like that? And what part of 'we know nothing' has slipped your mind?"
"Well, yeah, but-"
"Shut up and grab a box John."
***
They made a brief stop at an Up 'N Away, ordering a good sized amount of food, before Neko guided Archer towards one of the many elderly apartment buildings that were scattered all over the Row. Their destination was a rather sparse apartment, relatively well maintained, but clearly not lived in. It was one of a series of safe houses that Sylia Stingray had secretly established across Paragon City and beyond, serving as a backup to the hidden Riot base and teleporter network... just in case the situation for the Sabres and their allies went south. Even Sylia considered it unlikely, which said a lot about how much she had grown from the original Sylia Stingray countless universes away, but the founder and leader of the Knight Sabres was the sort of woman that planned for any an all possibilities.
Walking in silence had dulled the girls temper, and the food on offer had done a remarkable job of countering any lingering paranoia. Now, Neko watched with faint amusement as she watched Archer, who didn't even break the five foot mark, virtually inhale her food. Burgers, chicken strips, fries... all of it was devoured in seconds. Had Neko not lived with the likes of Sammy and Nene Romanova, she might not have believed it possible for such a tiny figure to eat so fast, not to mention so much. In fact, she still found herself slightly concerned about the second fact. A stomach could only hold so much before it became strained, after all, and if she was right about the Scimitar, this was probably her first time binge eating.
But then the girl paused, taking a breath before picking up her milkshake, and the taller woman caught a glimpse of long, gleaming fangs, and understanding flickered in her mind. This girl HAD been injured, she realized with a sudden burst of horror. The self-repair systems that were standard in all 33-S Bumaroids were active, ready to seek out any materials suitable to assisting in overcoming injuries. But even as she realized that, her lifetime of experience and innate instincts told her that the girl was in perfect health. Neko considered that for a moment, before looking at the Scimitars pink hair and the lines of her face, and a working theory formed in her mind. "So," she said calmly, dipping one of her chicken nuggets in the sauce. "What powers do you have?"
Pausing, Archer chewed, swallowed, then shrugged. "Class Three rengeration and self-repair," she replied. "At least, that's the official version." Neko raised an eyebrow. "I think it might be stronger then that. Class Two at the least." She returned to her food for a moment, and Neko mentally nodded in satisfaction. This girl was based off the same template as Utena, Edge Sabre. Her enhanced self repair systems would have dealt with almost any injury, merely needing more conventional resources then the custom made bio-repair gels, or human blood, that the hollow fangs were actually designed to collect. The woman still made a mental note to have Sylia take a look at the girl as soon as possible, just in case, before she noticed that Archer had paused again. "You... You know what I am, don't you?" she asked carefully, her voice suggesting she might not like the answer.
The woman swallowed the mouthful of food and nodded. "You're a modified 33-S series Bumaroid," she said calmly. "A near-human artificial lifeform, with a similar range of capabilities and weaknesses, and fully sentient. Crey Industries stole the technology from a rather divergent alternate reality about two years ago, and began a project intended to create a deniable superhuman black ops force, following public exposure of the Protectors. This is backed up by advanced power armor, based both off local designs, and some elements stolen from the same reality as the Bumaroid information. The project is apparently showing acceptable results to the Countess, given the numbers of Scimitars going into service, even despite the many cases of a Scimitar going rogue and breaking away from Crey control." Archers eyes were slightly wider then they had been, and Neko suspected that parts of what she was saying was new information for the girl. "Despite their best attempts, Crey can't seem to properly define a Scimitars personality as well as a Protectors. To the best of my knowledge, at least fifty women have escaped from the program-"
"Fifty?!" she squeaked, shock rippling across her face, clearly having not expected that little detail.
"At least," she shrugged. "I suspect there's more. But most of them tend to vanish into the general population. Crey often gives people rather good reasons not to stay in the superhuman community." She leaned forward, looking at Archer. "So, I know the general details. What I don't know is about you personally." The girl raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here?" she asked. "Why did you break out, and how?"
Archer frowned, looking towards her food, then she took a breath. "About a month ago, Seiba said she'd discovered what happened to the Scimitar candidates that... that failed their tests," she said quietly. "She wouldn't tell us all of it, said that all we needed to know was that she wouldn't let it happen to any of us..." she shook her head. "But the look in her eyes, her expression, they said it all. Especially when she looked at me. We all knew I wouldn't pass," the girl added, as if explaining it to Neko. "I'm not Scimitar material. I don't like Crey, I don't like what they do. I haven't been alive long enough to know everything about them, but I know that what they do is..." she searched for the right words, then shrugged helplessly. "Evil," she finished, her expression indicating she didn't like using such a simple, almost cliche description, but Neko merely nodded, her own expression showing her agreement with the words. It was more complicated then that, the swordswoman had found, but for a young girl created to serve Creys illegal acts, it certainly fit.
"She didn't want it to happen to any of us, so she had a plan to get us out of there. All of us, with our hardsuits. And it was working." Her expression had shifted again, from unease and distaste to actual anger. "Then it all fell apart," she hissed. "They'd known about it all along, and were waiting for us. It just all fell apart. One by one, they took us down. We fought, we ran, we gave it everything we had, and it wasn't enough." She exploded to her feet. "I don't know how many of them there were, how many we killed, but it wasn't enough, nowhere near enough!" The snarl escaped her lips conveyed her rage perfectly, and the gleam in Nekos eyes confirmed that it was a sensation she understood all too well. Then the girl paused, the rage visibly fading. "Then came the Volt Tank. He'd kept his distance, waiting in a side hallway. Seiba was distracted, and he went at her from behind. I could get an arrow off in time," she whispered. "So... I lunged. I couldn't let him hurt her. Not Seiba." With a shudder, she seemed to shrink in on herself. "It, it hurt so much, but just for a moment. Then it was gone. Everything was gone, and I just... faded away." The tears were running freely down her face now, as she looked up at the hero. "Then I woke up in a box, and those men were taking me to an incinerator. I didn't know where I was, or how, not at first... But Crey must have thought I was dead. So they disposed of me. If I'd woken up a few minutes later..." she shuddered again, and Neko reached over, taking her hands gently.
"Anyway, that's what happened. My family, my big sisters... they all died to save me," she whispered, failing to hold back the sobs that followed her words. Neko slid around the table, pulling the girl into a gentle embrace, holding her against her, and letting the grief of her survival and loss flow out.
"Let it out," she whispered. "Don't worry about holding it in. No one else will see it if you don't want them to. I promise you." The girl made a noise that might have been a sentence, lost to her sobbing, and Neko shook her head sadly. "There's no shame in grieving for them. They were your family. You loved them." Archer wailed now, the last restraints on her grief shattering with those words, and she clutched at Nekos jacket as if it was her only lifeline. "Take all the time you need... I'm here, and I'll stay here. You won't be alone, I promise."
***
Checking her reflection in the mirror one last time, Archer nodded in faint satisfaction at the lack of tear tracks on her face, then turned and left the bathroom, stepping back into the living room to find Neko leaning against the back of the couch, waiting patiently. "Feel better?" she asked softly.
"Somewhat," she replied. "Thank you." Neko nodded with a gentle smile, and Archer decided to press on, rather then dwell. "Why are you helping me?" she asked. "Against the Thorns, and now...?" Neko raised an eyebrow curiously, and she shrugged. "I was briefed on you. Your connection to the Knight Sabres is well known, and you know more about Project Scimitar then I do, I suspect. What are the odds of my being saved by you, just by chance?"
Ears twitching in faint amusement, Neko shook her head. "In Paragon, it's a lot more likely then you'd think. I could tell you that it was an automatic response to someone being swarmed by scum like the Thorns, or that I recognize the softsuit you're wearing under the clothes you took from the charity bin." Archer frowned slightly, tugging the bottom of her shirt down automatically. "They'd even have the benefit of being true. But they're not the entire truth." She pushed off the couch and stood up straight. "Tell me, what do you know about magic?"
The question drew a slightly confused blink from Archer. "Um... not much," she admitted after a moment of thinking back to her training. "I mean, my instructors told me a little about it, but that was mostly just 'these guys will do this thing'." She frowned, remembering those particular instructors. None of them had been among her favorite people at the facility. Angry, bitter people that would snap out their instructions, actually offended at having to teach 'metal dolls' anything. Every time she heard the cold contempt in their voices, the disgust in their eyes, her fury settled deep inside, alongside her distrust and her innate sense of right and wrong. "They never really explained anything," she added, shrugging slightly.
Shaking her head, Neko rolled her eyes. "Typical Crey," she noted. "Still, probably for the best. They don't know much about that field, and it's better that way. Gods only knows what they'd do with more knowledge." The tall woman stepped closer to Archer as she continued. "It's like science really. There are rules, theories, standards... There are more spiritual elements then most attitudes towards science though, and in this case, that's important. I was a teacher. For longer then I care to remember, it's been my purpose in life to take those that we know have the power and potential to be heroes, and make certain that they have the training, the guidance, and the support they need, if they want it."
Eyebrows raising, Archer walked over to the table and spun a chair around, taking a seat. "How do you know who you're looking for?" she wondered. "It's not like people walk around with big signs over their heads saying 'potential hero.'" She paused, then raised an eyebrow even further at the smile on the womans face. "Magic does that?" she asked, skepticism in her voice.
"Not literally," the catwoman chuckled. "But it does give certain hints, for lack of a better term. There are forms of magic that allow the viewing of souls, and other magics that allow glimpses of events yet to happen. Those little hints, along with some from other magical fields, and more conventional methods of investigation, can be rather effective guide to those with the training and experience to know what they're looking for." The smile faded, as her expression became more serious. "It's not an exact science, and we can be wrong... but we're good at finding Heroes. Yesterday, I got a call from an old friend who still serves as a mentor. He gave me an address and a time, and made it very clear that I should be there." She shrugged slightly, even as Archers mind raced at the implications of what she was hearing. Time travel and souls. Her experience at Crey made it seem so crazy, but here, now, she believed it. "Which is why I was there to see you leaving one of Crey's hidden disposal sites," the woman added, and Archer looked up at her.
"It was obvious what you were, and I could easily guess the general details of what had happened to you," Neko continued. "I've dealt with escapees from Project Scimitar before... Although I had to wonder why Parnell went to the trouble of pointing you out to me."
Considering that for a moment, Archer felt a wry smile forming on her face. "Maybe he just wanted you to save me from the Thorns kicking my butt," she pointed out.
Neko snorted and rolled her eyes. "The thing about Parnell is that he believes he has a purpose. He may catch a glimpse of the future from time to time, but he also has this attitude of 'seeing the big picture'. Just because he discovers a crime will be committed, doesn't mean he'll do anything about it." She snorted again, louder this time, and with a touch of anger. "I respect the guy, but he is a heartless monster. He speaks of the Greater Good, and treats everyone he interacts with as pieces on a chessboard. He makes me think of a magical Nemesis sometimes, although I have to admit, he's less annoying them the Steam King. No, if he bothered to tell me about it, he had his reasons."
The woman looked directly at Archer, her expression intent, her eyes almost gleaming. "But whatever the reasons he had for telling me to be there, I know what I saw. There was an innocent in trouble, and you didn't even hesitate. You were unarmed, unprotected, and you still charged in to save a life. You said you want to be a hero. I believe you have the potential. But you have a lot to learn. If you're willing to put in the effort and the time, I can teach you." Archer felt her eyes widen in understanding, and she started to speak, but the woman raised a hand. "Before you say anything, you need to understand this. You won't be getting a registered hero licence right away. You'll be given a provisional status, under my authority. My training will be hard and, at times, painful. And if you fail to meet my very high standards, I won't just fail you." Her eyes were hard, displaying her brutal honesty. "I will make certain you're never approved as a hero. Better to stop you now, rather then have you throw your life away in a pointless act of would-be heroics."
Archer frowned very slightly. "And if I say no?" she asked.
"Then you're free to go and apply for a license yourself," Neko replied with a shrug. "I won't stop you, even though a part of me would want to. But I won't help you any further either. That's the price of my assistance."
The frown deepened as Archer stood up and walked to the sink, fetching herself a glass of water. She took her time drinking it, using the time to think. Placing the glass in the sink, she turned to look at Neko again. "I could consider that a form of blackmail," she said, irritation in her voice. "I've spent my entire life inside a Crey training facility. Regardless of my beliefs and what they did teach me about the world, I have no real practical experience, and the mental gaps are probably going to get me into a lot of trouble... And I don't have my armor, or any weapons," she mused. It occurred to her that stopping to think about such things suddenly made them seem a lot more terrifying then they would be if she simply reacted on the spot. It was an interesting little revelation actually, something that she'd never actually considered before.
"You might well consider it that. And you might not be wrong," Neko admitted. "But those very reasons that would make it difficult, almost impossible for you to establish yourself as a hero on your own, and avoid Crey when the time comes, are some of the reasons that I'm including the threat with my offer." The pink haired girl felt her shoulders tense, and Neko smiled, ever so slightly. "Because Crey will realize you survived sooner or later. Sometimes, depending on circumstances, they will ignore you, let you go on your way and be someone else's problem. But other times, they decide they need to send a message, retaliate for past insults, or they simply believe they're taking there property back." She tried to hide the sudden flush of anger at being considered property, but the taller woman clearly noticed it. "I know that you believe in right and wrong, in justice. I know you're willing to fight for others. But what about yourself? When Crey comes for you, most of them will have no idea of what you really are. Some will be told the truth, others will be lied to. Some will be men beyond redemption, the sort of filth that would take pleasure in dragging a young girl into Creys hidden labs. Others will be men that believe the company PR. They'll probably be told you were an experimental robot, or a thief that stole company secrets, or any one of a hundred possible stories. Those men will not be evil. Will you fight them? Can you kill them, if need be?"
"I'm not naive," Archer shot back, anger running through her. She stepped towards Purrfect Shield, never breaking eye contact. "I want to be a hero, but I know it's not that easy. There were people in the facility I liked, people I called friends. They treated me like a person. But for what I want to be, what I need to be, I had to fight some of them when the time came." She tried to keep her voice level, but there was a slight catch in her throat at that last sentence. "I might have killed some of them. If that's part of the price I have to pay, then so be it." The anger that had surged through her died down again, and she pulled her gaze away from the other womans. "That's the problem with fighting for a dream. There's always little details when you wake up."
Neither of them said anything for a long moment, then Archer spoke again. "You think I have the potential. We both know that I'm not ready. I need to learn more. I need to be able to fight better, to know what I'm dealing with and why. You say you can teach me that?" she asked, turning to look at Neko again. "You can show me how to live in the world as I want to live, free to choose my path, free from Crey?" Neko merely nodded slightly. "Then you have a deal... Teacher." The catwomans ears twitched in surprise at the title, then a smile appeared again, this one much warmer then before.
"Excellent," she said, patting her on the shoulder, then pulling a key out of her pocket. "This is for the front door," she explained as she dropped it in Archers hand. "I want you to stay here for a little while. Get some rest. I need to make some arrangements for you... which will include introducing you to the Sabres," she added, and Archer felt her shoulders tense again. The Knight Sabres. She'd known of Nekos connections with them, but now that she actually spoke of meeting them... Crey had told her family all about the Knight Sabres. The Scimitars that went wild, turned on their creators like ungrateful children, out to destroy everything Crey built. There had been countless briefings, dozens of training simulations against mechanical duplicates and holograms, and more then a few painful lessons when they failed those simulations. She had some unpleasant memories of a Street Sabre duplicate getting its hands on her and twisting her arm until it snapped... and despite the fact she knew Crey had been lying, despite the fact she'd been able to read between the lines and determine most of the truth on her own, there was still a stab of fear, memories of recordings of the many different Sabres in action.
Some of her returning tension must have shown on her face, for Neko patted her gently on the shoulder. "They're good people," she reassured her. "And a number of them know more about Bumaroid design and repair then Crey ever will. You've been through quite an ordeal. Your body may seem to be in good condition, but I'd like to have you get a proper checkup, especially before I start putting you through a rather stressful training program," she added. "And Silicon will either be able to find your old hardsuit, or build you a new one." Archer considered that for a moment, then nodded slightly. She was pretty sure it was just Creys lies lingering in her brain anyway that made her uneasy, and Neko seemed unconcerned, aside from how she'd react, so... "Good girl," Neko smiled, patting her on the shoulder again, then walking to the door.
For a moment, Archer stood there, alone in the apartment, then moved to the door and tested the key she'd just been given. A quick turn of the handle confirmed that it belonged to this lock, and even though she doubted it was the only key cut for it, she wouldn't be locked in. With a nod of satisfaction, she went to the bedroom and dropped onto the bed. Ten minutes later, she admitted she wouldn't be sleeping just yet, and went to try out television for the first time.
***
Sylia had been expecting her. It didn't really surprise Neko, given their conversation earlier that night, but the fact that the woman had prepared a nice cup of tea for her, just the way she liked it, still brought a smile to her face. "So, given you came here so soon, I expect your girl of interest is a Scimitar?" Sylia asked with a faint smile.
Placing her cup back on the saucer, Neko smiled with genuine amusement. "I'd never call this girl a Scimitar," she noted. "Crey's attempt to properly manipulate Bumaroid brains still seems to be as troublesome as ever. She has a very strong sense of right and wrong, which Crey could never have hoped to hide their true nature from." She shrugged lightly. "I can't see them designing her like that if they could avoid it, honestly." Sylia nodded, her own smile widening with a similar amusement. "She's virtually a natural at hero work, from what I've seen so far. Which is actually a problem, given her lack of experience. I'm going to be taking her on as a student... It's really the only way to make certain that she doesn't get herself killed within a week for punching above her weight level." Her expression shifted back to a frown. "Actually, based off what she's told me, and from what I have access to in regards to the Sabres, I think she may not be alone." Sylia raised an eyebrow slightly. "Her family staged an escape attempt that went wrong. From the way she described it, they were picked off one by one. She was the one of the last two... her sister and leader was the only other one left. She called her Seiba."
The other woman didn't react at all, a testament to her self control, but Neko merely waited. After a moment, Sylia spoke. "I take it you've heard the name used in regards to a Sabre... and been certain it wasn't simply mispronouncing the word 'Sabre'?" she added. Neko nodded, and Sylia paused to consider the situation before replying again. "Sovereign Sabre." Neko nodded again. "She's spoken of her family only briefly. I can understand that, especially since I suspect she blames herself for their deaths during the escape attempt that she planned."
"Did she ever mention Archer?" the feline asked, and Sylia nodded. "Small, cute, barely a teenager, pink hair?" Sylia nodded again, her eyes now much more intent. "She remembers the escape attempt, getting between a Volt Tank and her sister, then a sharp burst of pain followed by waking up right before she was going to be thrown into an incinerator."
"That's... incredibly impressive timing," Sylia said after a moment. "Especially given that Sovereign escaped from Crey several months ago," she added with a thoughtful frown. "To spend so long unconscious, only to awaken potentially moments before being killed... and for Crey to not realize that she was merely injured as well."
"Two lifetimes of luck, at least," Neko agreed. "Assuming that's the truth, or the whole story." She grinned wryly at Sylias expression. "Oh, I believe her. The girl doesn't really know how to lie, but she can't tell us what she doesn't know."
Sylias eyes gleamed as she considered. "You believe she may be a sleeper agent?"
"Or someone inside Crey made a few arrangements to get her out," Neko replied. "It seems much more likely. If it's the former, better we find out now. If it's the later..." she shrugged, and took a sip of her tea.
"There are factions within Crey that disagree with the Scimitar program," Sylia mused. "Some for ethical reasons, others are more personal. I have spent quite some time recruiting the former group, or at least making potential allies of them. If they knew that a Scimitar that had attempted to escape was still held, they would have likely informed me in some manner."
Her eyes studying the patterns in the fine china cup in her hands, Neko nodded slightly. "Your information retrieval abilities in the past would make for excellent evidence that there was no actual leak," she said wryly. "And the Sabres rescuing a reluctant Scimitar from Crey control is so normal no one would even find it odd. Even those not allied with you may well attempt for provide you the information, given the circumstances." Placing the cup back down, her ears twitched in bitter amusement. "As for the type interested in personal gain, they would tend to favor one of two approaches. Steal her and use her, or kill her off."
"It is possible they attempted to kidnap her, and the operation suffered a critical failure somewhere," Sylia noted. Neko nodded. "Still, that possibility can be resolved later. What we have to be concerned about is the possibility of a sleeper personality." She leaned back, rubbing the thumb and forefinger on her left hand together thoughtfully. "And after that, what we do with her. You said you were taking her on as a student. How would you describe her?"
"Brave, intelligent, idealistic, adaptive, loyal to her family and with a determination to make sure their deaths aren't for nothing," she replied instantly. "She's also impulsive, naive, idealistic, reckless, emotional and with a number of issues regarding her escape chewing her apart. And yes, I know I listed idealistic in both pros and cons," she added as Sylia opened her mouth. She snickered slightly as her friend closed her mouth again, then continued. "With time and experience, she'll do well, but right now, I need to handle her carefully. And that includes telling her that her 'big sister' may have survived." Sylia raised an eyebrow in question, and Neko shrugged. "If she concludes that more of her family may still be in Crey hands, she won't wait. She'll go charging straight back in to find them, and the odds will never occur to her."
There was a pause, and then Sylia nodded in agreement. "Sovereign, assuming we're right about her, and I believe we are, may well be the same way. Her survivors guilt is obvious to those that know what to look for... the chance to save her family after all would be an irresistible target. She wouldn't stop to think and come at the problem correctly." Despite the nature of their conversation, an almost whimsical expression passed over her face. "She'd pull a classic Priss, as Nene would say."
"And Priss would sulk about for hours in response to," Neko snorted. "So... medical checkup as soon as possible, with a full search for sleeper programming included?"
"Until I'm certain she can be trusted, the Sabres involved will need their identities hidden," Sylia reminded her. "I'll put together a team for the project, and we'll have it done before the end of the week. At the same time, we'll need to take a closer look at the nature of her survival."
Ears and tail twitching in amusement, Neko leaned back in her chair. "I'll see what I can wring out of a certain owl," she promised. "For whatever reason, he wants us looking into Archer's situation, and that worries me. The last time Parnell dragged me into one of his schemes, my charge ended up in a wheelchair for the rest of his life," she said, eyes darkening at the memory.
Sylia frowned. "And this Parnell remained a friend?" she asked, slightly surprised by her own experience of the woman's temper when those close to her were threatened.
"More like an associate... and that was only after he was done with the stay at the vets his 'for the Greater Good' bullshit had earned." She snorted. "Son of a bitch nearly put himself right back in afterwards when he accused me of being too intimate with those I was bound to teach. Idiot." The Knight Sabre didn't reply to that, merely looking thoughtful as she leaned back in her chair. Neko gave her a slightly bitter smile as she picked up her tea again.
***
His co-worker gave him a bland look. "This is about your back again, isn't it?" he asked, picking up a box of what sounded like glass jars.
"No, it's not about my back," he shot back, rolling his eyes. "It's about the fact we have to drive to all these little places, all over town and use incinerators in supposedly abandoned buildings. It's inefficient, and well, kind of creepy."
Before he could continue, the older man waved a hand. "John, we work for Crey," he said. "We get paid well, don't we?" John paused, then nodded. "You know that there are things we throw in the fire that we want to know nothing about, don't you?" John nodded again. "If Crey wants to burn away their dirty little secrets somewhere no one is going to look, we keep our mouths shut, take their money and accept we're being sneaky about-" he stopped as the crate emitted a brief 'thud' and a soft grunt. "Um."
John blinked, looking at the crate, then at his co-worker. "Is this one of those things we ignore?" he asked, then stepped back as the crate shook with another, louder thud. There was a third thud, and then one of the corners pushed up, the nails starting to come loose slightly. The men looked at each other briefly, then jumped as a pair of tiny feet slammed into the crate lid, snapping timber and sending half of it flying.
As they watched, the feet vanished back into the crate and a young girl stuck her head up, smiling at them as she tried to smooth down her messy, knotted, light pink hair. "Hello!"
After a long moment that involved a lot of the two men looking at each other with rather shocked expressions, and the girl trying to deal with her case of crate-hair, John turned back to the girl. "Hello," he managed. "I... what were you doing in that crate?"
She smiled playfully as she climbed out, revealing she was wearing a power armor softsuit over her tiny figure, tears and burns visible in places. "Now now," she scolded, waving her finger at him as she sat on the top of the crate. "Remember, your job means you should take their money, and you really shouldn't ask questions." The smile faded slightly, becoming more serious. "Actually, that's really a good idea. Crey likes to keep their secrets, after all," she pointed out. "And mentioning a girl-in-a-box might be taken the wrong way." With that, she slid off the box and stood up, her tiny size and young features doing a remarkable job of continuing to freak the men out. She picked up the section of crate lid she'd kicked off and more or less shoved it back into place, then turned back towards them. "Drop that in the incinerator," she suggested. "You never saw anything odd, never really looked at what you'd been told to burn, and you never looked inside, so..." she shrugged. "Where are we?"
"Uh, Kings Row," the older Crey employee replied, looking slightly ill as his mind wandered towards the question of how many other girls in boxes he'd burned to ash.
For her part, she seemed to pay little attention to his distress, consulting her mental map. "You don't happen to know if there's a charity bin around, do you?" she asked.
Nodding jerkily, John pointed a hand back towards the closed roller door behind them. "Three blocks down, in the car park," he managed, and she smiled yet again.
"Thank you," she chirped, bowing slightly, then jogging towards the exit.
Both men watched as she hit the door controls and let the door slide up just enough to duck under, and the girl vanished into the night. There was a long, unpleasant silence, then both men turned towards each other. "So... boring night," John said. His friend nodded, and they grabbed the trolley and hurried the crate towards the incinerator.
***
The streets were deserted, a fact that Archer found herself incredibly grateful for as she jogged in the direction the men had pointed her. Even in Paragon, a young girl in a rather tight bodysuit would probably draw attention. The smile she'd shown the disposal workers faded as she ran, replaced by a lingering concern, almost fear. She reached the car park quickly enough, finding a large charity bin with the logo of the Salvation Army hidden a considerable amount of graffiti. Pausing to give the vandalism an irritated look, she pulled the hatch open and stood up on the tips of her toes, looking in. Then she made a satisfied noise and climbed up, sliding in feet first. "Yay for being small," she noted, smirking at the thought of someone like Violet trying this. Then she giggled at the thought of Violet breaking into a charity bin, before her smile briefly faded as she wondered just what had happened to the others. Before she really had time to consider it, her chest and head slid into the bin and she dropped onto the pile of clothes and other assorted items, and she found herself looking at a very surprised Clockwork Gear. "Hello!" she smiled, then giggled as the tiny automation tried to hide the phone it was dismantling behind its back. "Don't worry," she told it. "I'm here for pants. You can keep that."
Tilting its head to the side, the Gear considered that, then nodded and scrambled over to a corner, giving her some space. Snickering, she started digging through the clothes. As she held up a shirt and considered it in the poor light available, her mind wandered back to her friends, and the question of just what had happened to them. As she'd been trained, she stripped the events down, focusing on the key points. She remembered Violet vanishing, and Rider racing off to find her. Ruby had clashed with a Power Tank, Breaker had made a distraction, and then she'd personally had a run-in with a Volt Tank. After that, there'd been a brief moment of pain, before it suddenly ended, and there was nothing until she'd woken up in a box, on her way to being... She shivered slightly, realizing just how close she'd come to... she pulled her mind away from that, focusing on the task of clothes. She pulled a bra out of the pile, looked at it, then shook her head. One, it was clearly too big for her rather non-existent chest, and two, the concept of wearing someone else's dirty underwear was just plain disturbing.
A few items of clothing later, and she'd found a shirt at least, followed by a pair of battered white sneakers that were only half a size too big for her feet, something she considered quite a stroke of luck. She wasn't quite as lucky with pants, eventually finding a pair that had to have the legs folded up quite considerably, but she decided they'd do for now. Struggling into the pants proved to be an interesting exercise, as she squirmed around in the confined space, nearly kicking the Gear by accident before it buried itself under a towel for safety. But soon enough she was lacing up her shoes, then starting on the task of escaping from the bin again. It was a bit more awkward then sliding in, the hatch trying to drop shut on her without a weight on the outside, but a few minutes climbing and squirming gave her enough room to get a decent hand hold, pull her legs out... then lose her balance and fall a few feet to the footpath. "Ow," she declared, sitting up. "Stupid concrete."
The streets were still empty, and Archer wondered if this was normal for Kings Row at night. She was sure that there should at least be someone around. Still, at least she was dressed now. And assuming that the two Crey employees didn't want to risk anyone killing them or generally making them suffer, Crey would assume she'd been burnt into little pieces of ash, or whatever it was that Scimitars were reduced to after being dumped in an incinerator. So her situation was looking up, she decided. Now, she just needed food. And somewhere to sleep. And money, given she'd probably need to pay for the food and a place to sleep.
Frowning, she turned to look back in the direction of the warehouse with the hidden incinerator. "...No, it's probably a bit rude to go back and ask if I could borrow fifty dollars," she decided, picking a direction at random and starting to walk. She failed to notice the remarkably tall woman leaning against a chimney on a nearby rooftop, watching her carefully. The large feline ears sticking out of her hair twitched in brief amusement as she overhead the girls comment.
"I thought you'd retired from the mentor business," said a voice from the earbud she was wearing. "You'd grown tired of sitting on the sidelines, watching as others charged into danger?"
Neko Romanova smiled faintly. "You know how it is Silicon," she replied with a shrug. "Old habits die hard. And my old co-workers know it," she added with a chuckle. "'Oh, if you go here, you'll find a girl that could do with someone pointing her the right way' they tell me, knowing damn well I won't be able to just ignore it." She watched the girl pause to study her reflection in a window, fixing her messy hair a bit more. "And I think she's one of yours, actually." She could almost hear Sylia's attention sharpening. "No hardsuit, but she was wearing a rather battered Crey power armor softsuit and leaving one of their 'hidden' disposal sites."
"I see," the other woman replied after a moment. "What do you suggest?"
"Parnell told me about this girl," she noted. "He's of the 'cryptic, annoying manipulator with a heart of gold' school of mystical mentors. He would have had his reasons for telling me. Let me handle this for now, find out what those reasons might be."
"Very well. Good luck."
Neko was about to reply, when the sound of a woman's scream cut through the night. She straightened up, body tensing, and she glanced at the street to see that the mystery Scimitar had broken into a run, heading directly for the source of the scream. "She's got the instinct," she smiled, then began roof hopping.
***
The scream led her towards the back of a collection of old warehouses, and the sound of deep, angry chanting in a language she'd never heard, had her suspecting what she'd find, even as she ran around the corner. She wasn't disappointed. Crey may have held to moral beliefs that the young bumaroid, with her strong opinion of right and wrong, heroes and villains, had found herself unable to serve, but their training was good, and the robed, arcane looking men in front of her looked exactly like she remembered from a dozen briefing sessions and training operations.
The Circle of Thorns, she remembered. An army of ancient spirits, possessing the bodies of people with magical potential they'd murdered to use as puppets. The Crey Security officers had used other, longer descriptions, and had gone into detail on short term alliances with the Thorns in the face of other threats, possible test subjects for study... but none of that had mattered to her. They were murderers, and right now, they were standing in a circle around a woman that was floating inside a strange green fire. Crey had briefed her on that too. Again, there had been a lot of long, semi-scientific explanations and descriptions, all of it wrapped in a disgusting layer of unconcern for what it truly meant, but Archer had formed her own opinion, based around her own surprisingly strong morals, which led to more then a little anger as she realized that the Thorns were going to have one of their ghosts possess this woman and use her body as an unwilling puppet.
It never occurred to her to worry that she'd lost her armor in the escape. Nor did it bother her that she had only minimal training in hand-to-hand combat, or that she was unarmed, going up against nearly ten men with knives, crossbows and dark magics. There was an innocent in danger, and to her, that was all that mattered. One of the cultists heard the sound of her feet against the gravel and turned, just in time to see her make a flying leap and, with more luck then skill, plant both her sneakers into his nose. It drove into his face with a satisfying crunch, cartilage and flesh giving way under the impact, and he hit the ground even fast then her, with barely a sound. Archer hissed as her elbow sent a flash of pain up her arm as she landed in a clumsy roll, but she was already scrambling to her feet as the other Thorns turned towards her.
"A hero?" one of them wondered. Archer charged, ducking under a dagger and driving her fist into the wielders stomach. It hit with more power then one would expect from such a small girl, and he doubled over in unexpected pain. The girl reached up towards his head as it came down, grabbing it and guiding it towards her rising knee. He let out a choked, pained scream as his blood stained her pants and she released him, letting him fall to the ground and clutch at his face.
"Pretty much," she replied with a grin as she lowered her leg back down. "Now, let's get on with-" she squeaked as they all charged at once, and she scrambled backwards, trying to stay away from the knives. Behind them, the woman they'd been planning to murder dropped to the ground, looking rather surprised, before she scrambled to her feet and fled. She was fast enough to keep her distance, and there were enough Thorns coming at her that they were almost tripping over each other to get at her, but that wasn't going to last long. Archer may have been brave, she may have been dedicated, but the honest fact was, she was a young girl in ragged clothes, not quite five feet tall. Hardly an intimidating sight to a group of ancient body-stealing ghosts, a part of her mind pointed out to her, even as she leaned back and kicked, slamming her foot into the closest Thorns knee. He screamed and started to fall, but the one next to him lunged past, knife gleaming as he aimed for her chest -
- and then the space between them exploded. The blast was surprisingly focused, with a directed shockwave slamming into the Thorns and throwing them back, several of them hitting the warehouse wall with painful sounding cracks as they bounced. Enough of it washed back over Archer to knock her off balance and she tripped, landing on the ground with a slight wince. For a moment, there was nothing but the groans of injured Thorns, many of them experiencing pain and injury again for the first time in centuries. Then, the dust cloud blocking her view was dispersed by the breeze, and the Scimitars eyes widened. Between her and the ghosts in their stolen corpses stood an incredibly tall woman, her back to Archer. She wore a simple brown suit, and in her right hand, she held the hilt of a Vanguard Sword that powered up as the girl watched, a bright blue light launching out and forming into a seemingly solid blade. The buckler on her right arm unfolded and emitted the same light in a curved shield. Archers eyes were drawn to the long, sleek tail that waved behind the woman as she walked towards the Thorns with casual ease. "I suppose you must be some of the newer ghosts your friends stole bodies for," she commented, amusement tinging her voice as the remaining cultists managed to get to their feet. "Clumsy, poorly trained... and the sort of cowards that can only attack a child with a dozen extra parasites to held them." The amusement in her voice had vanished, replaced by cold steel. "What else would one expect from the servants of demons?" she asked, coming to a halt and raising her sword to a ready position.
Archer stared at the woman, surprise on her face. For a brief moment, this new arrival had her stunned. Why was there a giant catwoman standing in front of her aiming an energy sword at a group of body stealing ghosts? Then her brain caught up with the situation and, even as the Thorns got their bearings and charged, she realized that she recognized her, from several of the countless briefings that Creys black-suited security agents had given their newly created Scimitars. Purrfect Shield, a sword/shield scrapper (Obviously, the back of her mind snarked), and a member of Riot Force, who were considered by Crey as an alpha-one threat, mostly due to the fact that was where most escaped Scimitars seemed to end up. She was apparently some sort of teacher or mentor, and one rather grumpy agent had stated she'd used to be a cat sitting on Purrfect Archers shoulder, although she didn't know what to make of that.
And right now, she was seeing proof that the reports on her skill level were, if anything, understated. The Thorns charged towards the tall woman, and she merely waited for them to get close enough, then exploded into action. Her shield smashed into a face, her blade drove deep into a bicep, she turned, putting her shield between her and an incoming blade, before using her size and strength to shove the attacker in question off balance. Before he could regain his balance, she ripped her blade out of the other Thorns arm, and brought it up in a wide arc that cut the cultist wide open. He dropped, arcane energy consuming him as the ghosts anchor to its stolen body shattered, and the woman moved on, cutting out the next Thorns legs from under him before bringing up her shield to deflect a crossbow bolt.
Two of the Thorns seemed to be coming to their senses, and they turned and fled even as Purrfect Shield ripped their colleagues apart. She turned to see them vanish around a corner, and tensed as if to give chase, but then shook her head and relaxed. For the first time since her sudden appearance, she turned to where Archer was still sitting on the ground, having watched the action with a stunned expression. The tall woman studied her for a moment, then powered down her equipment, her blade vanishing and her shield folding away. "Well, you certainly have courage," she said quietly. "Mind you, courage alone won't achieve much, as you may have just noticed." Archer blinked, looking up at her. "You charged straight in, unarmed, with no protection whatsoever. Reckless of you." As Archer frowned, the woman turned to look at some of the scattered Thorns. "Still, you've had decent hand to hand training," she mused. "Nothing too flashy, aside from the initial entrance, and that used the advantage of surprise well," she said, using her foot to roll over the first Thorn that the girl had taken down, looking at his crushed face. "In a one on one fight with any of these idiots, you'd likely have won. But it wasn't that kind of fight, was it?"
"No," Archer admitted as she got to her feet, watching the seeming amazon cautiously. "It wasn't."
"And yet, you charged right in," Purrfect Shield said. "You would have been killed, or even worse, given some of the powers of these scum. Why? Why did you come here, why did you fight?" she asked, her voice hard. "Why did you almost throw your life away?"
"Because someone was in danger," the smaller girl shot back. There was no doubt in her voice, no uncertainty. "Someone's life was in danger, and I had to help them. I couldn't ignore it or walk away. That's not the sort of person I am." There was a fire in her voice as she stepped closer to Shield. "Call me reckless if you want, but that's who I am. I run into danger, I face the challenges, I embrace the risk!" She glared directly into Shields eyes, irritated that moving so close to the woman meant she was giving herself a sore neck from having to look up so high. "I've paid the price to be who I am. My family paid that price. I won't insult their memory by abandoning that path now."
There was a long moment of silence, with Archer glaring up at Shield, the taller woman merely looking back down with that same calm, disapproving expression. It ended with Shields face suddenly shifting into a small, but approving smile. "Good girl," she said softly, and Archer blinked, her righteous glare being replaced by sudden confusion. "You're off to a good start, assuming nothing goes wrong," she continued. "You've got fire, a sense of justice and the willingness to listen to it. We'll have to work on your common sense, it seems," she noted, her smile becoming a little more playful, "but that's hardly an unusual thing around here." Archer continued to stare at her, utterly confused, and the womans amusement grew. "Just let me get these zombies sent off to the zig, then we'll talk properly, over some food."
Archer had been about to protest and demand some answers now, but those last three words drew her attention to the empty void in her stomach. The last time she ate was... well, before everything went to hell, honestly, and she had no real way of knowing when that was. And so, she nodded with only slight reluctance.
***
"...Heh."
"What?"
"Just thought of something."
"Oh yeah?"
"Damn shame, throwing away a perfectly good white girl like that."
"... It's taken you this long to think up a smartass comment like that? And what part of 'we know nothing' has slipped your mind?"
"Well, yeah, but-"
"Shut up and grab a box John."
***
They made a brief stop at an Up 'N Away, ordering a good sized amount of food, before Neko guided Archer towards one of the many elderly apartment buildings that were scattered all over the Row. Their destination was a rather sparse apartment, relatively well maintained, but clearly not lived in. It was one of a series of safe houses that Sylia Stingray had secretly established across Paragon City and beyond, serving as a backup to the hidden Riot base and teleporter network... just in case the situation for the Sabres and their allies went south. Even Sylia considered it unlikely, which said a lot about how much she had grown from the original Sylia Stingray countless universes away, but the founder and leader of the Knight Sabres was the sort of woman that planned for any an all possibilities.
Walking in silence had dulled the girls temper, and the food on offer had done a remarkable job of countering any lingering paranoia. Now, Neko watched with faint amusement as she watched Archer, who didn't even break the five foot mark, virtually inhale her food. Burgers, chicken strips, fries... all of it was devoured in seconds. Had Neko not lived with the likes of Sammy and Nene Romanova, she might not have believed it possible for such a tiny figure to eat so fast, not to mention so much. In fact, she still found herself slightly concerned about the second fact. A stomach could only hold so much before it became strained, after all, and if she was right about the Scimitar, this was probably her first time binge eating.
But then the girl paused, taking a breath before picking up her milkshake, and the taller woman caught a glimpse of long, gleaming fangs, and understanding flickered in her mind. This girl HAD been injured, she realized with a sudden burst of horror. The self-repair systems that were standard in all 33-S Bumaroids were active, ready to seek out any materials suitable to assisting in overcoming injuries. But even as she realized that, her lifetime of experience and innate instincts told her that the girl was in perfect health. Neko considered that for a moment, before looking at the Scimitars pink hair and the lines of her face, and a working theory formed in her mind. "So," she said calmly, dipping one of her chicken nuggets in the sauce. "What powers do you have?"
Pausing, Archer chewed, swallowed, then shrugged. "Class Three rengeration and self-repair," she replied. "At least, that's the official version." Neko raised an eyebrow. "I think it might be stronger then that. Class Two at the least." She returned to her food for a moment, and Neko mentally nodded in satisfaction. This girl was based off the same template as Utena, Edge Sabre. Her enhanced self repair systems would have dealt with almost any injury, merely needing more conventional resources then the custom made bio-repair gels, or human blood, that the hollow fangs were actually designed to collect. The woman still made a mental note to have Sylia take a look at the girl as soon as possible, just in case, before she noticed that Archer had paused again. "You... You know what I am, don't you?" she asked carefully, her voice suggesting she might not like the answer.
The woman swallowed the mouthful of food and nodded. "You're a modified 33-S series Bumaroid," she said calmly. "A near-human artificial lifeform, with a similar range of capabilities and weaknesses, and fully sentient. Crey Industries stole the technology from a rather divergent alternate reality about two years ago, and began a project intended to create a deniable superhuman black ops force, following public exposure of the Protectors. This is backed up by advanced power armor, based both off local designs, and some elements stolen from the same reality as the Bumaroid information. The project is apparently showing acceptable results to the Countess, given the numbers of Scimitars going into service, even despite the many cases of a Scimitar going rogue and breaking away from Crey control." Archers eyes were slightly wider then they had been, and Neko suspected that parts of what she was saying was new information for the girl. "Despite their best attempts, Crey can't seem to properly define a Scimitars personality as well as a Protectors. To the best of my knowledge, at least fifty women have escaped from the program-"
"Fifty?!" she squeaked, shock rippling across her face, clearly having not expected that little detail.
"At least," she shrugged. "I suspect there's more. But most of them tend to vanish into the general population. Crey often gives people rather good reasons not to stay in the superhuman community." She leaned forward, looking at Archer. "So, I know the general details. What I don't know is about you personally." The girl raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here?" she asked. "Why did you break out, and how?"
Archer frowned, looking towards her food, then she took a breath. "About a month ago, Seiba said she'd discovered what happened to the Scimitar candidates that... that failed their tests," she said quietly. "She wouldn't tell us all of it, said that all we needed to know was that she wouldn't let it happen to any of us..." she shook her head. "But the look in her eyes, her expression, they said it all. Especially when she looked at me. We all knew I wouldn't pass," the girl added, as if explaining it to Neko. "I'm not Scimitar material. I don't like Crey, I don't like what they do. I haven't been alive long enough to know everything about them, but I know that what they do is..." she searched for the right words, then shrugged helplessly. "Evil," she finished, her expression indicating she didn't like using such a simple, almost cliche description, but Neko merely nodded, her own expression showing her agreement with the words. It was more complicated then that, the swordswoman had found, but for a young girl created to serve Creys illegal acts, it certainly fit.
"She didn't want it to happen to any of us, so she had a plan to get us out of there. All of us, with our hardsuits. And it was working." Her expression had shifted again, from unease and distaste to actual anger. "Then it all fell apart," she hissed. "They'd known about it all along, and were waiting for us. It just all fell apart. One by one, they took us down. We fought, we ran, we gave it everything we had, and it wasn't enough." She exploded to her feet. "I don't know how many of them there were, how many we killed, but it wasn't enough, nowhere near enough!" The snarl escaped her lips conveyed her rage perfectly, and the gleam in Nekos eyes confirmed that it was a sensation she understood all too well. Then the girl paused, the rage visibly fading. "Then came the Volt Tank. He'd kept his distance, waiting in a side hallway. Seiba was distracted, and he went at her from behind. I could get an arrow off in time," she whispered. "So... I lunged. I couldn't let him hurt her. Not Seiba." With a shudder, she seemed to shrink in on herself. "It, it hurt so much, but just for a moment. Then it was gone. Everything was gone, and I just... faded away." The tears were running freely down her face now, as she looked up at the hero. "Then I woke up in a box, and those men were taking me to an incinerator. I didn't know where I was, or how, not at first... But Crey must have thought I was dead. So they disposed of me. If I'd woken up a few minutes later..." she shuddered again, and Neko reached over, taking her hands gently.
"Anyway, that's what happened. My family, my big sisters... they all died to save me," she whispered, failing to hold back the sobs that followed her words. Neko slid around the table, pulling the girl into a gentle embrace, holding her against her, and letting the grief of her survival and loss flow out.
"Let it out," she whispered. "Don't worry about holding it in. No one else will see it if you don't want them to. I promise you." The girl made a noise that might have been a sentence, lost to her sobbing, and Neko shook her head sadly. "There's no shame in grieving for them. They were your family. You loved them." Archer wailed now, the last restraints on her grief shattering with those words, and she clutched at Nekos jacket as if it was her only lifeline. "Take all the time you need... I'm here, and I'll stay here. You won't be alone, I promise."
***
Checking her reflection in the mirror one last time, Archer nodded in faint satisfaction at the lack of tear tracks on her face, then turned and left the bathroom, stepping back into the living room to find Neko leaning against the back of the couch, waiting patiently. "Feel better?" she asked softly.
"Somewhat," she replied. "Thank you." Neko nodded with a gentle smile, and Archer decided to press on, rather then dwell. "Why are you helping me?" she asked. "Against the Thorns, and now...?" Neko raised an eyebrow curiously, and she shrugged. "I was briefed on you. Your connection to the Knight Sabres is well known, and you know more about Project Scimitar then I do, I suspect. What are the odds of my being saved by you, just by chance?"
Ears twitching in faint amusement, Neko shook her head. "In Paragon, it's a lot more likely then you'd think. I could tell you that it was an automatic response to someone being swarmed by scum like the Thorns, or that I recognize the softsuit you're wearing under the clothes you took from the charity bin." Archer frowned slightly, tugging the bottom of her shirt down automatically. "They'd even have the benefit of being true. But they're not the entire truth." She pushed off the couch and stood up straight. "Tell me, what do you know about magic?"
The question drew a slightly confused blink from Archer. "Um... not much," she admitted after a moment of thinking back to her training. "I mean, my instructors told me a little about it, but that was mostly just 'these guys will do this thing'." She frowned, remembering those particular instructors. None of them had been among her favorite people at the facility. Angry, bitter people that would snap out their instructions, actually offended at having to teach 'metal dolls' anything. Every time she heard the cold contempt in their voices, the disgust in their eyes, her fury settled deep inside, alongside her distrust and her innate sense of right and wrong. "They never really explained anything," she added, shrugging slightly.
Shaking her head, Neko rolled her eyes. "Typical Crey," she noted. "Still, probably for the best. They don't know much about that field, and it's better that way. Gods only knows what they'd do with more knowledge." The tall woman stepped closer to Archer as she continued. "It's like science really. There are rules, theories, standards... There are more spiritual elements then most attitudes towards science though, and in this case, that's important. I was a teacher. For longer then I care to remember, it's been my purpose in life to take those that we know have the power and potential to be heroes, and make certain that they have the training, the guidance, and the support they need, if they want it."
Eyebrows raising, Archer walked over to the table and spun a chair around, taking a seat. "How do you know who you're looking for?" she wondered. "It's not like people walk around with big signs over their heads saying 'potential hero.'" She paused, then raised an eyebrow even further at the smile on the womans face. "Magic does that?" she asked, skepticism in her voice.
"Not literally," the catwoman chuckled. "But it does give certain hints, for lack of a better term. There are forms of magic that allow the viewing of souls, and other magics that allow glimpses of events yet to happen. Those little hints, along with some from other magical fields, and more conventional methods of investigation, can be rather effective guide to those with the training and experience to know what they're looking for." The smile faded, as her expression became more serious. "It's not an exact science, and we can be wrong... but we're good at finding Heroes. Yesterday, I got a call from an old friend who still serves as a mentor. He gave me an address and a time, and made it very clear that I should be there." She shrugged slightly, even as Archers mind raced at the implications of what she was hearing. Time travel and souls. Her experience at Crey made it seem so crazy, but here, now, she believed it. "Which is why I was there to see you leaving one of Crey's hidden disposal sites," the woman added, and Archer looked up at her.
"It was obvious what you were, and I could easily guess the general details of what had happened to you," Neko continued. "I've dealt with escapees from Project Scimitar before... Although I had to wonder why Parnell went to the trouble of pointing you out to me."
Considering that for a moment, Archer felt a wry smile forming on her face. "Maybe he just wanted you to save me from the Thorns kicking my butt," she pointed out.
Neko snorted and rolled her eyes. "The thing about Parnell is that he believes he has a purpose. He may catch a glimpse of the future from time to time, but he also has this attitude of 'seeing the big picture'. Just because he discovers a crime will be committed, doesn't mean he'll do anything about it." She snorted again, louder this time, and with a touch of anger. "I respect the guy, but he is a heartless monster. He speaks of the Greater Good, and treats everyone he interacts with as pieces on a chessboard. He makes me think of a magical Nemesis sometimes, although I have to admit, he's less annoying them the Steam King. No, if he bothered to tell me about it, he had his reasons."
The woman looked directly at Archer, her expression intent, her eyes almost gleaming. "But whatever the reasons he had for telling me to be there, I know what I saw. There was an innocent in trouble, and you didn't even hesitate. You were unarmed, unprotected, and you still charged in to save a life. You said you want to be a hero. I believe you have the potential. But you have a lot to learn. If you're willing to put in the effort and the time, I can teach you." Archer felt her eyes widen in understanding, and she started to speak, but the woman raised a hand. "Before you say anything, you need to understand this. You won't be getting a registered hero licence right away. You'll be given a provisional status, under my authority. My training will be hard and, at times, painful. And if you fail to meet my very high standards, I won't just fail you." Her eyes were hard, displaying her brutal honesty. "I will make certain you're never approved as a hero. Better to stop you now, rather then have you throw your life away in a pointless act of would-be heroics."
Archer frowned very slightly. "And if I say no?" she asked.
"Then you're free to go and apply for a license yourself," Neko replied with a shrug. "I won't stop you, even though a part of me would want to. But I won't help you any further either. That's the price of my assistance."
The frown deepened as Archer stood up and walked to the sink, fetching herself a glass of water. She took her time drinking it, using the time to think. Placing the glass in the sink, she turned to look at Neko again. "I could consider that a form of blackmail," she said, irritation in her voice. "I've spent my entire life inside a Crey training facility. Regardless of my beliefs and what they did teach me about the world, I have no real practical experience, and the mental gaps are probably going to get me into a lot of trouble... And I don't have my armor, or any weapons," she mused. It occurred to her that stopping to think about such things suddenly made them seem a lot more terrifying then they would be if she simply reacted on the spot. It was an interesting little revelation actually, something that she'd never actually considered before.
"You might well consider it that. And you might not be wrong," Neko admitted. "But those very reasons that would make it difficult, almost impossible for you to establish yourself as a hero on your own, and avoid Crey when the time comes, are some of the reasons that I'm including the threat with my offer." The pink haired girl felt her shoulders tense, and Neko smiled, ever so slightly. "Because Crey will realize you survived sooner or later. Sometimes, depending on circumstances, they will ignore you, let you go on your way and be someone else's problem. But other times, they decide they need to send a message, retaliate for past insults, or they simply believe they're taking there property back." She tried to hide the sudden flush of anger at being considered property, but the taller woman clearly noticed it. "I know that you believe in right and wrong, in justice. I know you're willing to fight for others. But what about yourself? When Crey comes for you, most of them will have no idea of what you really are. Some will be told the truth, others will be lied to. Some will be men beyond redemption, the sort of filth that would take pleasure in dragging a young girl into Creys hidden labs. Others will be men that believe the company PR. They'll probably be told you were an experimental robot, or a thief that stole company secrets, or any one of a hundred possible stories. Those men will not be evil. Will you fight them? Can you kill them, if need be?"
"I'm not naive," Archer shot back, anger running through her. She stepped towards Purrfect Shield, never breaking eye contact. "I want to be a hero, but I know it's not that easy. There were people in the facility I liked, people I called friends. They treated me like a person. But for what I want to be, what I need to be, I had to fight some of them when the time came." She tried to keep her voice level, but there was a slight catch in her throat at that last sentence. "I might have killed some of them. If that's part of the price I have to pay, then so be it." The anger that had surged through her died down again, and she pulled her gaze away from the other womans. "That's the problem with fighting for a dream. There's always little details when you wake up."
Neither of them said anything for a long moment, then Archer spoke again. "You think I have the potential. We both know that I'm not ready. I need to learn more. I need to be able to fight better, to know what I'm dealing with and why. You say you can teach me that?" she asked, turning to look at Neko again. "You can show me how to live in the world as I want to live, free to choose my path, free from Crey?" Neko merely nodded slightly. "Then you have a deal... Teacher." The catwomans ears twitched in surprise at the title, then a smile appeared again, this one much warmer then before.
"Excellent," she said, patting her on the shoulder, then pulling a key out of her pocket. "This is for the front door," she explained as she dropped it in Archers hand. "I want you to stay here for a little while. Get some rest. I need to make some arrangements for you... which will include introducing you to the Sabres," she added, and Archer felt her shoulders tense again. The Knight Sabres. She'd known of Nekos connections with them, but now that she actually spoke of meeting them... Crey had told her family all about the Knight Sabres. The Scimitars that went wild, turned on their creators like ungrateful children, out to destroy everything Crey built. There had been countless briefings, dozens of training simulations against mechanical duplicates and holograms, and more then a few painful lessons when they failed those simulations. She had some unpleasant memories of a Street Sabre duplicate getting its hands on her and twisting her arm until it snapped... and despite the fact she knew Crey had been lying, despite the fact she'd been able to read between the lines and determine most of the truth on her own, there was still a stab of fear, memories of recordings of the many different Sabres in action.
Some of her returning tension must have shown on her face, for Neko patted her gently on the shoulder. "They're good people," she reassured her. "And a number of them know more about Bumaroid design and repair then Crey ever will. You've been through quite an ordeal. Your body may seem to be in good condition, but I'd like to have you get a proper checkup, especially before I start putting you through a rather stressful training program," she added. "And Silicon will either be able to find your old hardsuit, or build you a new one." Archer considered that for a moment, then nodded slightly. She was pretty sure it was just Creys lies lingering in her brain anyway that made her uneasy, and Neko seemed unconcerned, aside from how she'd react, so... "Good girl," Neko smiled, patting her on the shoulder again, then walking to the door.
For a moment, Archer stood there, alone in the apartment, then moved to the door and tested the key she'd just been given. A quick turn of the handle confirmed that it belonged to this lock, and even though she doubted it was the only key cut for it, she wouldn't be locked in. With a nod of satisfaction, she went to the bedroom and dropped onto the bed. Ten minutes later, she admitted she wouldn't be sleeping just yet, and went to try out television for the first time.
***
Sylia had been expecting her. It didn't really surprise Neko, given their conversation earlier that night, but the fact that the woman had prepared a nice cup of tea for her, just the way she liked it, still brought a smile to her face. "So, given you came here so soon, I expect your girl of interest is a Scimitar?" Sylia asked with a faint smile.
Placing her cup back on the saucer, Neko smiled with genuine amusement. "I'd never call this girl a Scimitar," she noted. "Crey's attempt to properly manipulate Bumaroid brains still seems to be as troublesome as ever. She has a very strong sense of right and wrong, which Crey could never have hoped to hide their true nature from." She shrugged lightly. "I can't see them designing her like that if they could avoid it, honestly." Sylia nodded, her own smile widening with a similar amusement. "She's virtually a natural at hero work, from what I've seen so far. Which is actually a problem, given her lack of experience. I'm going to be taking her on as a student... It's really the only way to make certain that she doesn't get herself killed within a week for punching above her weight level." Her expression shifted back to a frown. "Actually, based off what she's told me, and from what I have access to in regards to the Sabres, I think she may not be alone." Sylia raised an eyebrow slightly. "Her family staged an escape attempt that went wrong. From the way she described it, they were picked off one by one. She was the one of the last two... her sister and leader was the only other one left. She called her Seiba."
The other woman didn't react at all, a testament to her self control, but Neko merely waited. After a moment, Sylia spoke. "I take it you've heard the name used in regards to a Sabre... and been certain it wasn't simply mispronouncing the word 'Sabre'?" she added. Neko nodded, and Sylia paused to consider the situation before replying again. "Sovereign Sabre." Neko nodded again. "She's spoken of her family only briefly. I can understand that, especially since I suspect she blames herself for their deaths during the escape attempt that she planned."
"Did she ever mention Archer?" the feline asked, and Sylia nodded. "Small, cute, barely a teenager, pink hair?" Sylia nodded again, her eyes now much more intent. "She remembers the escape attempt, getting between a Volt Tank and her sister, then a sharp burst of pain followed by waking up right before she was going to be thrown into an incinerator."
"That's... incredibly impressive timing," Sylia said after a moment. "Especially given that Sovereign escaped from Crey several months ago," she added with a thoughtful frown. "To spend so long unconscious, only to awaken potentially moments before being killed... and for Crey to not realize that she was merely injured as well."
"Two lifetimes of luck, at least," Neko agreed. "Assuming that's the truth, or the whole story." She grinned wryly at Sylias expression. "Oh, I believe her. The girl doesn't really know how to lie, but she can't tell us what she doesn't know."
Sylias eyes gleamed as she considered. "You believe she may be a sleeper agent?"
"Or someone inside Crey made a few arrangements to get her out," Neko replied. "It seems much more likely. If it's the former, better we find out now. If it's the later..." she shrugged, and took a sip of her tea.
"There are factions within Crey that disagree with the Scimitar program," Sylia mused. "Some for ethical reasons, others are more personal. I have spent quite some time recruiting the former group, or at least making potential allies of them. If they knew that a Scimitar that had attempted to escape was still held, they would have likely informed me in some manner."
Her eyes studying the patterns in the fine china cup in her hands, Neko nodded slightly. "Your information retrieval abilities in the past would make for excellent evidence that there was no actual leak," she said wryly. "And the Sabres rescuing a reluctant Scimitar from Crey control is so normal no one would even find it odd. Even those not allied with you may well attempt for provide you the information, given the circumstances." Placing the cup back down, her ears twitched in bitter amusement. "As for the type interested in personal gain, they would tend to favor one of two approaches. Steal her and use her, or kill her off."
"It is possible they attempted to kidnap her, and the operation suffered a critical failure somewhere," Sylia noted. Neko nodded. "Still, that possibility can be resolved later. What we have to be concerned about is the possibility of a sleeper personality." She leaned back, rubbing the thumb and forefinger on her left hand together thoughtfully. "And after that, what we do with her. You said you were taking her on as a student. How would you describe her?"
"Brave, intelligent, idealistic, adaptive, loyal to her family and with a determination to make sure their deaths aren't for nothing," she replied instantly. "She's also impulsive, naive, idealistic, reckless, emotional and with a number of issues regarding her escape chewing her apart. And yes, I know I listed idealistic in both pros and cons," she added as Sylia opened her mouth. She snickered slightly as her friend closed her mouth again, then continued. "With time and experience, she'll do well, but right now, I need to handle her carefully. And that includes telling her that her 'big sister' may have survived." Sylia raised an eyebrow in question, and Neko shrugged. "If she concludes that more of her family may still be in Crey hands, she won't wait. She'll go charging straight back in to find them, and the odds will never occur to her."
There was a pause, and then Sylia nodded in agreement. "Sovereign, assuming we're right about her, and I believe we are, may well be the same way. Her survivors guilt is obvious to those that know what to look for... the chance to save her family after all would be an irresistible target. She wouldn't stop to think and come at the problem correctly." Despite the nature of their conversation, an almost whimsical expression passed over her face. "She'd pull a classic Priss, as Nene would say."
"And Priss would sulk about for hours in response to," Neko snorted. "So... medical checkup as soon as possible, with a full search for sleeper programming included?"
"Until I'm certain she can be trusted, the Sabres involved will need their identities hidden," Sylia reminded her. "I'll put together a team for the project, and we'll have it done before the end of the week. At the same time, we'll need to take a closer look at the nature of her survival."
Ears and tail twitching in amusement, Neko leaned back in her chair. "I'll see what I can wring out of a certain owl," she promised. "For whatever reason, he wants us looking into Archer's situation, and that worries me. The last time Parnell dragged me into one of his schemes, my charge ended up in a wheelchair for the rest of his life," she said, eyes darkening at the memory.
Sylia frowned. "And this Parnell remained a friend?" she asked, slightly surprised by her own experience of the woman's temper when those close to her were threatened.
"More like an associate... and that was only after he was done with the stay at the vets his 'for the Greater Good' bullshit had earned." She snorted. "Son of a bitch nearly put himself right back in afterwards when he accused me of being too intimate with those I was bound to teach. Idiot." The Knight Sabre didn't reply to that, merely looking thoughtful as she leaned back in her chair. Neko gave her a slightly bitter smile as she picked up her tea again.
***
