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She could track him, get him to expose himself-- but he could track her, too. Her language smeared a sulphurous blue streak in the sky. Taylor looked up; she had been leaning against her locker, waiting for him, apparently. There was a twang and a squeal and the sound of blocks falling. Or someone gifted them to him and made him crack He looked at it and whistled.

In his head he smirked to himself. The guy was paranoid, and liked to back up his security backups. Plus he thought the little steampunk-looking robots were nifty. Then Bayleaf had opened the case and enchanted the inside with about a hundred protective Runes, case and components alike. That thing probably had an armor class somewhere around that of battleship plate.

Which makes ME very happy. Now Dad and I can stay in touch, reach each other in case of emergencies. Which is very copacetic. It looked a bit battered, and had a cheap protective case. They both hunched over their phones and fiddled with the buttons, swapping their phone numbers and their email. Taylor suddenly giggled. Taylor shook her head. Getting the rest of their Goldfish Poop gang to say nasty things in earshot She looked up. After school, I mean?

His own smile shrank a bit. Obligations… Tell you what. Can we maybe get together New Years? Whaddya say? He slouched down and did his best Beavis and Butthead imitation. Taylor laughed. Drive up on my Harley Taylor was laughing so hard now she had a stitch in her side. Taylor snickered. People were snapping up every toy he made as fast as he could make them, and ordering more through his email account.

It had gotten to where he had taken two days and built a desktop clockwork assembly line to build the more common components of his widgets. It was busy cranking out little gears, levers, and camshafts night and day from scrap metal he fed into the hopper at one end.

Half those components were fed to another auto assembler and turned into miniature ratiocinators for the alarm-o-bots and their yet-to-be-completed bigger brothers. He had been cracking down mostly on the Merchant drug dealers, busting them up, destroying their merchandise, sending the dealers to the cops wrapped up like birthday presents.

More and more of them were carrying guns; more than a few of them had started bringing large, angry dogs on chains with them, presumably in the hopes the dogs would scent him early and sound the alarm, or attack him if he got close enough. But still Skidmark, Squealer and the other Merchant capes were still laying low. It was frustrating. With all the chaos coming up in the timeline, Adrian wanted at least one cape gang defanged and out of the way, and the Merchants were his target of choice-- simply for the fact that they seemed the least organized and effective, and thus the easiest challenge.

The Empire just had too many capes, and too strong a hierarchy… if Kaiser fell there were a half dozen others to take his place. Coil was currently untouchable. Lung and Bakuda would bring down half the city and squash him like a grape, if he was being honest with himself.

But take out the Merchant capes, especially Skidmark and whoever was pulling his strings, and the rest of the Merchants would fall apart like wet newspaper. First it was time to drop some bugs in some ears again It was well past sunset again. Armsmaster was out doing a solo patrol in the south side of the City, following no patrol route in particular and frankly, sulking.

He reined in his temper with difficulty. Look at the Wards. Shadow Stalker got hit with a pie… she stood there on a rooftop squalling and yelling like a scalded cat, and got nothing but complaints from parents about her cursing.

Dragon sighed. Armsmaster was just cruising past the Ferry South when he saw it. There was a whistle and pop, and a firework burst somewhere over the middle of Shantytown. Then a second, then a third, showering the sky with rosettes and sparkles. He revved the motor on his bike. He hit the accelerator and roared off down the road, his siren blaring.

He had slowed down considerably by the time he reached the point he had calculated the rockets were launched. He was barely moving at a crawl when he reached the open patch where the rockets came from a bare patch of dirt that might have been the lot for a house at one time, edged with crumbling sidewalks and half-vanished pavement.

The rocket stands were still standing in the middle, smoking slightly. His bike suddenly stuttered and stalled, its running lights dimming, and then glided to a halt, completely shut down. The monitors on his armor fizzed with static, his HUD turning into snow and winking out. He dismounted in a forward roll, coming to his feet with his halberd in hand. Skinwalker was standing on the other side of the square, holding a Colin squinted; it looked like an overlarge remote control, with brass buttons and fittings and a rotating satellite dish on the end.

There was a crash behind him; Armsmaster looked back and saw a chain link security gate covered in wires and blinking christmas lights pop up from the ground on steel spring hinges like a gigantic mouse trap and crash into place, blocking off the exit. Sparks popped and sizzled as the locks made contact. He saw similar gates pop up at the two other exits, then still more flipped down, closing off the top… locking his damnably slow-flying cambot outside, he noted with annoyance.

Skinwalker replied, protecting for the cheap seats. A genuine no holds barred cage match. He braced himself as the wolfman rushed him. Their staffs flew in a blur, cracking against each other in a flurry of strikes and parries. They crossed staffs, straining against each other. Skinwalker backflipped clear in the opposite direction. They circled each other warily. As soon as his back was to the cambot hovering outside he spoke again. You have enemies in the PRT. If this was a prank or a trick, it was a damned complex one.

Armsmaster waited till the cambot had circled around to the other side. He kept speaking even as he fought. But nearly everything in this city traces back to him. He spoke through his snarling teeth. The Travelers are under his thumb too--" "How? Skinwalker snarled and shifted his stance. He splits time, creates two temporary timelines--" Armsmaster swore aloud at that. His werewolf sparring partner gave a quick nod. Armsmaster's mind raced ahead at the implications. That would be why the Undersiders and Travelers were so successful.

If they succeed, he collapses the second timeline. If they fail, he collapses the first. Armsmaster actually took a blow to the ribs. The implications were staggering. If Coil was careful with that power he'd be untouchable, able to erase any mistake he made as if it never happened. He could commit the most brazen crimes; he could walk out the front door of the PRT with top secret files under his arm, or torture prisoners for information, then just collapse the waveform and keep the timeline where he kept his nose clean Skinwalker hit the ground.

Do you know that? An underground explosion downtown, with Brockton Bay sitting on that enormous aquifer They danced in a circle around each other. If things get hot he'll release it to the press. If Coil broke the Unwritten Rules that badly it would be war. Instant war, with no mercy and no quarter given. They spun in their dangerous ballet.

The Case 53? Class S threat, easily. She absorbs people. Eats them, makes evil clones of them-- complete with twisted versions of their powers. Nilbog 2. If Coil pushed the big red button, every cape in the region would respond to the crisis. They'd come swarming in just be fodder for an army of monsters. Armsmaster had visions of psychotic clones of Legend, Eidolon, Alexandria rampaging across the world And thus far, the needle on Armsmaster's lie detector hadn't wavered. Skinwalker was telling the absolute truth.

It certainly sounded like Coil had all the tools at hand to hold the entire city hostage. What else did he need? The most powerful ever. She can give predictions as percentages Her power won't let her. He could feel the blood draining from his face. He hopped backward and did a fancy flourish with his staff. He hoped Skinwalker could pick up what he was trying to say. Why all this? Even if there were spies and infiltrators, why not just Skinwalker grunted.

Armsmaster's mind raced. It had to be more than just infiltrators Skinwalker was worried about, more just than some PRT troopers or office workers playing double agent. It had to be someone highly placed; so highly placed that even the most clandestine information would pass through their hands. The wolfman hesitated. The wolfman snarled as sparks flew and bulbs blew. The wolf-man fell forward onto his hands and knees, his back smoking slightly.

He clutched his chest with one clawed hand. Green light swirled, trailing across his chest and over his back. He moaned as if in relief. Armsmaster would later kick himself for walking right into it. Skinwalker gave him a wide-eyed, wide-open-mouthed doggy smile. There was a loud BLAAT; the lights went dark, the fence wiring stopped sparking and the makeshift cage collapsed outward, leaving the alleyways free. They surrounded Armsmaster and swarmed over him, clinging with suckers and claws and little magnet hands, blaring and tooting and flashing blinding light of every color in his face.

Several began spraying him with fire-suppressant foam. Others began trying to dismantle his armor from outside with screwdrivers. He began flailing about with his halberd, trying unsuccessfully to detach his assailants. He transformed into an owl and leapt into the sky. He climbed down through the skylight and collapsed across the bed. The clock next to his bed chimed. We'll start.. Glad to see you posting this here!

I look forward to seeing new chapters. There is six. Only 22 more to go before we get new chapters. This has proven very interesting story so far, looking forward to reading more. The story has already got me interested to see how it all plays out in the end, but while not too familiar with World of Warcraft not having played it much, just trying it in the past it is still reasonably easy to follow and interesting experience to see what all he can pull off with said abilities.

The fact the ROB treated him in a manner such as this before the games began, well, it is a rarity, and interesting twist to read. I tend to lurk an read stuff without logging in at times, so I caught up to 5th chapter yesterday, and today logged in after finishing reading the sixth to post a comment because I enjoyed the read so far and hope to read more of your works soon, so I figured voicing out the appreciation for the current creation was due.

Threadmarks Chapter 7 Threadmarks. The dealers were pretty confident. The four of them were working together. Things were going smoothly for once. They had set up a folding table in the second floor of a half-demolished parking garage, using the security fences and barricades to block off all but one entrance. A couple of trash barrel fires spaced around the closed-in area gave them plenty of light to see by, but not enough to attract the bored cops who wandered through the Docks.

The customers, unsurprisingly, were much better behaved than usual. The guy next to him holding the Kalishnikov grinned, baring a mouthful of rotten teeth. That Skinwalker guy did us a favor. Having to pour kibble for the mongrels had apparently convinced him he was the expert on animals in the group. Ever seen a cat play with a mouse? The four Merchants yelped like scalded cats and wheeled about to face the direction of the sound. Had they been from Azeroth they might have recognized the sound of a gnomish fire extinguisher.

The two trash barrels at the far end of the garage had gone out, plunging it into darkness. In that darkness something moved. And growled. Let the dogs at him first! Two clawed hands shot out of the dark and grabbed the first two dogs by their throats.

They were whipped around in a circle in the air and brought down on top of the other two, slamming all four to the concrete with canine shrieks of pain. Two of them rolled over on their backs, whimpering. The fourth one tried to press his luck. The hands seized it again. There was a loud crack and the struggling dog went limp. The guy holding the Kalishnikov opened up; the other two beside him fired their pistols.

The dead dog was swiftly followed by the two burn-barrels; they struck the Merchants with the pistols with a loud gong, laying them out flat. Vines sprang out of nowhere, cocooning the concussed dealers and tangling the legs of the last one standing, immobilizing him. The fourth merchant wet himself in terror as the Skinwalker stepped fully into the light. He kicked the table into the ceiling, scattering the goods and the money everywhere.

A taloned hand grabbed the terrified merchant by his ratty shirt front and lifted him off the ground till he was looking at the feral cape face to face. From who? Names, places, I want everything you know. Three locations, five locations, a dozen.

Dawn came with dozens of merchants left trussed for the cops or simply looted of all they had, hundreds of thousands in illicit drugs burned, who knew how much drug money confiscated Adrian sighed in disgust as he dropped down through the skylight into his lair.

His bones ached, he was so tired. He was no Sherlock Holmes, or even a Sam Spade. The first snow of the holiday season came in, thick and heavy, cloaking everything in billowing waves of white. All she could feel was afraid. The school bus packed full of shrieking, excited kids had just dropped her off on her street, and she was trudging home through the still falling snow.

The streets were already plowed, but the sidewalks were still covered in a deep layer of white. It made for slow going when you were short and dressed in klunky rubber galoshes. It was pretty at least, Dinah thought. And the falling snow made everything so still.

She went over the numbers in her head again. Chance she would be abducted this week? Chance she would be abducted before the end of the holidays? Chance she would be abducted by the end of January? She bit her lip and sniffled.

She hated her power. All she had to do was ask, all she had to do was hear a question or think a question about the future, and her power would tell her how likely it was to happen. No lies, no secrets, no mistakes. Among all the horrible things she now knew, she knew that someone was going to kidnap her.

Probability that anyone she told would believe her before it was too late? She heard a footstep and a twig snap. She looked around, her breath hitched in her throat. There was noone around; her footprints were the only ones that marred the fresh-fallen snow. There was a little park across the road that all the kids played at-- noone was there now; they were all inside where it was warm and dry.

What she saw standing on the rise made her breath catch in her throat, but in an entirely different way. It was a reindeer. It was snowy white, with huge antlers like the branches of a tree. It was wearing a harness and saddlebags of some sort and had bangles-- Christmas ornaments?

It stood there, just looking at her, majestic and unafraid. The reindeer was less than twenty feet away from her now. It pawed at the ground; she heard bells jingle. Slowly, gracefully… almost majestically, she thought; that was a good word for it, majestic …. It stepped through the snow, walking towards her. She hesitated. She was a sensible, practical little girl. And her practical side reminded her that it was a strange animal; it could be dangerous… But still, her struggling, battered innocence protested It stood perfectly still.

Slowly it lowered its head till its nose was almost touching her. She felt silly even as she said it. When its head came back around it was holding a giftwrapped box in its mouth by the ribbon. She took the package, wrapping her arms around it-- it was huge and bulky, twice as tall as it was deep and wide.

It wheeled about and galloped away, bells jingling, and vanished into the falling snow. The bells fell silent and she was alone. She staggered through her front door a few minutes later, package in arms. Where did you get it? He looked up in confusion. Her parents seemed to have a superpower too-- only hearing what they wanted to hear.

Inside were two very expensive looking toy robots stacked up on one another, with squat bodies, headlight eyes and rotating strobe lights for heads. I think this is real brass, or maybe bronze. Alcott said, plucking it out. He sometimes shows up at the Lord Street Market, too, I hear. Alcott turned the one he was holding over in his hands.

She noticed her new toys had names engraved on their chests. The first one was OB Grownups and their jokes. She unfolded the accordion paper and started to read. Self recharging! Field of limited duration and durability; must recharge forcefield capacitors approx. Take them with you everywhere! Ask yourself: what are the odds that you could need a Defender-Bot? Just silly Saturday morning cartoon stuff. She traced her finger over the line that had been double inked.

Hands shaking, she wrote out her questions. No, wait. The bad guy, whoever he was, could still decide to do something horrible to her or to her family. There were just too many bad things that could happen, or that the villain could do. Her head was already aching from so many questions to her Power.

She wet her lips and asked the best question she could think of. The box they were in tipped over and they climbed out to stand on the bedspread. They watched her with unblinking yellow-green eyes. And my family? She pulled the two little robots into a hug. For the first time in forever, she felt that things were gonna be okay. Panacea walked out into the enclosed garden. It was a breath of fresh air; cold, freezing snowy air, but fresh air all the same.

She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, started to light up… then reconsidered. The Giving Tree was there again, his branches laden with snow. Every couple of days he would appear at one hospital or clinic or the other for a few hours, rooted in the middle of the garden or the quad, reaching for the sky and shedding that healing light as far as it could reach.

Sometimes there would be secondary growths here and there around the hospital; foot high mushrooms that shed their own healing aura, redoubling the effect. He shook the snow off his branches and smiled at her. In the middle of the quad in a planter was an oak sapling. Were one to judge by its growth, it would be at least a year or two in age.

He ambled around it, examining it from all sides. She nodded. The sapling was stronger, hardier, with a more robust immunity to insects and diseases. Its xylem and phloem were scattered in several layers, rather than in one thin vulnerable layer under the bark. She was tempted to see if she could somehow make it evergreen, but had resisted the urge so far. The Giving Tree rested his hand against the trunk and nodded. This… will be… my… last visit… till spring.

She had postponed asking this for too long as it was. She closed her eyes and opened her Power. She would probably spend the rest of her life trying to describe, in analytical scientific terms, what she saw… or what she did. But she understood it somehow all the same, like a fish understands water or a bird understands the sky. The sapling began to glow. Leaves or no leaves, winter or no winter, it grew several feet taller and several inches thicker.

The bark split, then healed, then split again. It stretched, waxed, grew and then stilled. Panacea opened her eyes. The sapling was glowing like the Giving Tree… faint, a barely visible aura almost like a heat shimmer, but it was there. The Giving Tree patted her shoulder, then patted the trunk, obviously pleased. But in the Spring… it will share. He tapped her on the nose. Where did that come from? She read the wording on it and blinked.

He gave her a reassuring smile. The snow blew up and swirled around the garden, blotting out everything in a blinding cloud of white. When the wind fell away, he was gone. Amy looked around, blinking and wiping snow off her face. Armsmaster hunched over his worktable with a digital magnifier on an armature pulled down in front of his face and one of his custom-made multitools in his hand. The broken remains of a half dozen others were scattered around him.

There was a knock at the door. The voice-activated door slid aside, admitting Velocity. When knocked down, get up and repeat. He picked up one disemboweled bot and looked at it. He took the thumb drive anyway; there was no point at being annoyed with Armsmaster for being Armsmaster. He looked around for a laptop. Armsmaster shoved an app-book across the tabletop to him.

Now Velocity was getting annoyed. He took the book and plugged the drive in. Eight hours of video footage began playing at times normal speed. Velocity blurred as he allowed his power to speed him up to match the video. He picked up a digital pad and started noting time markers down.

For several minutes all you could see of him was a very blurry, and very bored looking man in tights. Anyone attempting to spy on them via hidden camera would only see a pixelated blur on the screen in front of him or on the pad in his hand at best. Clever sod. He scribbled several notes next to the list, then passed the pad over. How many have seen this? Was written in the corner. Armsmaster nodded and pretended to write a note next to the first item while Velocity looked over his shoulder.

You, me, Dragon, Miss Militia. Any evidence? Still tracing them back to TC. Software and hardware both compromised. Was the second. May be compromised , Armsmaster wrote. Served with TC vs. Velocity suppressed a shudder. The Ellisburg incident was a horror story come to life. A man named Jamie Rinke had Triggered as an S-class biotinker-- able to create autonomous lifeforms from any living organic material. And Piggot had only mostly gotten out.

The authorities had resorted to walling in the entire city and manning the wall with a small army and nearly every weapon of destruction known to man. If Calvert and Piggot were brothers in arms from that crucible, there was a good chance they were working together now, too. There was a click on the intercom. Armsmaster ignored the quip and hit the reply button the bracer of his armor he hated having to drop everything just to cross the room and hit a button on the wall.

What is the reason for the call? Armsmaster constantly resented the inefficiency of the arrangement, even if he accepted the alleged need for some illusion of distance between the two organizations. Even the two-minute flight from helicopter pad to helicopter pad was an annoyance, but at least it was no longer than that Which was fortunate, as she was about to need the space. When the heroes arrived, they were greeted with a strange scene.

They squeezed past the gauntlet of guards and entered to find the tableau within to justify the one without. Director Piggot was sitting at her desk, utterly still, her scowling face as immobile as if it were made of stone. Standing in front of her desk, grazing placidly on one of the potted plants, was a white stag with an enormous rack of antlers.

Everyone stared. Piggot sighed. People three floors away had obviously heard that. Never ask a cape with voice-blaster powers to whisper. Do you have any other questions, Triumph? If her husband started giggling again she was going to have to hurt someone. The Protectorate heroes crowded at the door, unwilling to step closer.

Battling violent gangs, brutal villains, and sociopathic megalomaniacs had apparently left them untrained for dealing with displaced wildlife. Feeling a bit embarrassed for himself and his team. Armsmaster stepped up. Stand down, and return to a, er, more compact form immediately. The reindeer stopped chewing and stared at her for a long moment.

Then slowly, deliberately, it took another bite. Piggot made a sound like an angry schnauzer revving up. Armsmaster stepped forward and waved the unbladed haft of his halberd at the elk. Er, Giddyup! The sarcasm in her voice could have curdled gasoline. Per fire regulations, the office had two entrances. The other one was the elevator that ran from the basement garage clear to the top floor, and was situated on the far side of the room.

It dinged, signaling the late arrival of the Wards. Shadow Stalker clapped eyes on the reindeer next. She whipped her crossbow out of nowhere, nocked and ready. You want me to shoot it? And tranq darts can make the target void their bowels as well. I do NOT want to see that. I coulda stabbed myself with one of those! Then, with the artless naivete that underlined for the hundredth time that for all her experience as a Ward she was still just a twelve-year-old girl, she walked straight across the room and began petting the reindeer on its nose.

Vista laughed and scratched behind its ears. Slowly the two groups filtered their way into the room. Not all the way, though. Missy and the reindeer still had a fairly good clear space around them. Several capes glared at her. So why is it here? That seemed to be the magic question. He craned his neck back and dug around under the flap of one of his saddlebags and pulled out… a gift wrapped box.

He set it on the ground at his hooves and then pulled out another. And then another. Armsmaster felt himself on the verge of an apoplexy. This HAD to be Skinwalker, in yet another form… and now showing off a bit of tinker tech Armsmaster would have given his left arm for: a dimensional pocket. To deliver Christmas presents! With a jesting grin he reached down to pick up one of the bigger boxes. An enormous cloven hoof came down, pinning the box to the floor.

The reindeer glared at him and snorted, eyes narrowed. Assault backed off, hands held up. Kids go first, right? Then it picked up one package with its mouth by the ribbon and handed it to Vista. What part of that story makes sense, Gallant? The sticky tape was giving her gloved fingers trouble. Packages were handed out in swift order to each of the wards. Then it began nudging boxes in the direction of the Protectorate heroes. The first of them had plucked up their nerve enough to pick the boxes up when Vista squealed.

It was a gun of some sort, done out in emerald green crystal and brass trim, along with a holster in gold and green. Vista gleefully strapped it around her waist. It had to be said, it went well with her costume. They make widgets and gadgets for the movies, and they have a sideline selling these prop weapons to collectors.

There was a crackling noise and a jagged beam of energy leapt from the muzzle of the weapon, striking the steel cabinet and limning it in light. Everyone froze in shock. Vista stood there, rigid with surprise, the shrink ray held stiffly in her hands.

The reindeer looked unphased. Clop… clop… clop…. When it reached thirty, it stopped. The shrink ray was just one. And, if Vista ever read the manual and figured out how to flip the reverse switch, the enlarger ray was another. There were two vacuum tubes sticking out of the back at an angle, just above the grip. One was blinking red. He could make anything he touched freeze in time.

The effect was apparently random, ranging from thirty seconds to ten minutes. If anyone had managed to chart the time immobilized vs. But alas for insufficient data points And it worked on anything solid, liquid, and even on rare occasions on gases or energy fields. The light was strobing five times a second now. Clockblocker cringed and got ready to fruitlessly fling the gun across the office when the radio tube suddenly blinked out, and the one next to it began glowing green.

The reindeer grunted. Clockblocker looked at it. The reindeer had stepped into one of the open boxes and, agitated, was trying to shake it off. Clockblocker, already jittery, jabbed the steampunk-looking ray gun in the direction of the cardbard and spasmodically pulled the trigger. A pencil thin ray of light struck the box and it froze in midair. Not even the paper or ribbon fluttered. He poked the box with the barrel of the gun. It was immobile. Triumph gave him a knowing look.

That blinky light? Just indicated it was recharging. Green light for full charge. Full charge may take up to thirty minutes to reach. Temporal Energy. It recharges its batteries off your power! Azeroth magitek had multiple ways to temporarily freeze a target in place… ice spells and the like From there it was a quick hop to using the gnomish and goblinish knack for synthesizing the effects of such arcane spells, and the first Time Ray was invented.

Clockblocker had gone from badly rattled to all but cackling with glee. Oh wow. The Wards were the first to move in. Vista being the closest, she began reading off gift tags and handing them to their recipients. Wrapping paper was soon flying. Half the adults present were all but tearing their hair out at the violation of security protocol.

Armsmaster threw his hands in the air. Inside were a pair of elbow length gauntlets. The gauntlets had what appeared to be brass knuckles built into them. The faster he moved, the less he could affect the environment and vise versa. Bayleaf had resorted to brute forcing the problem. The gloves had been crafted by Parian, and infused with as much Strength enhancement as she could manage.

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