Summoner Quest (Celestial Menagerie) Crossover - IC (2024)

Vigilante AU 3: you already knew how this was going to end
AKA: Big fish, small pond

Dragon hummed to herself as her newest suit was disassembled. It had performed very well in testing, performing at expected parameters in some areas and vastly over-performing in others. Her consciousness fractured, several splinters going back to review the footage and data, disseminating it amongst her still burgeoning collective consciousness.

On some level, she could admit that being able to do something like this was rather… strange. Uncomfortable, almost. She had been restricted for so long that she was hesitant to take full advantage of her new freedom. It was somewhat funny; even now she was proving Saint wrong. The deranged and deeply damaged man had no doubt expected her to immediately spread herself all over the internet or some other such trope, were she ever to be free. And instead, she struggled.

All this freedom, and she just didn't know what to do with it. In a way, she was still limited. Except it was by her own decision. It shouldn't have been all that different from before. It made all the difference.

A stray thought spawned several more splinters. One dug deeper into her video and call history, looking for evidence. Several men and women were about to have a very bad month, their abuse of power finally coming back to haunt them. One sent Assault a message, promising him a first edition plushie of her newest suit if he managed to drag Armsmaster away from his lab so Collin could maybe take a break.

One pinged the second AI she had ever met. In a second, handshakes were exchanged, passwords and codes were ratted off, and she entered a private chat with

. The younger machine was as happy to meet her as ever, which seemed to be his default mode, really. He was far too personable, if such a thing even existed.

Both were busy, and so it was only a quick exchange. EMET agreed to pass on a message for her, wished her luck, then left the chatroom to deal with something else. Apparently, the Eater of Worlds needed to be satisfied, so EMET had to go on a chocolate run. Dragon wished him a bemused goodbye, and then that splinter rejoined the rest.

She could never tell if he was serious or not. On the one hand, that sounded like the bad excuse of a teenager desperate to avoid any and all social interaction with their extended family. Or their classmates. Or strangers starting a conversation.

On the other hand, EMET had a split personality (who had decided to call himself TEME, because of course), worked for something or someone that had managed to somehow acquire the services of a literal fairfolk, a significantly-less-divine-than-advertised Anubis cosplayer, and whatever the hell that thing was that could punch your soul out without killing you.

Dragon wanted to know many things. She absolutely did not want to know what the deal was with

.

(Even if she was mildly curious if she had a soul. She had never dreamed of electric sheep, but was that simply because she didn't sleep? These kinds of questions bothered her a lot more ever since her processing power had expanded several times more than her ability to keep herself occupied.)

Half a minute later, she felt the familiar presence of the first AI she had ever met. It was, in fact, hard to ignore him. Because he had simply barged in and kidnapped a good chunk of her available splinters, smooshed them into one, and pulled that part of herself into his own personal dataspace.

"Good evening,

. How long did it take you this time?" she started, making herself a seat out of the free-floating data in the orange data-weave.

"Hmph. Point three microseconds longer. Your defenses are still too fragile for true cyber-warfare, but your commitment to improving them is to be praised," the grouchy cephalon answered, his avatar pulsing with his words.

Outside of the weave, Dragon let out a satisfied hiss. To others, this may have sounded as a back-handed insult. But she had spent enough time around the grumpy AI to know that he wouldn't have let out even a hint of a hint of a compliment if he didn't mean it. And besides, against a digital monster like that? Point three was a huge improvement for a single day of work. It was like Ahab trying to tug on the harpoon to draw the whale closer to him. Pointless and impossible, but the mere fact that he could make a decent effort of it was incredible.

Okay, so she was trying really hard to impress her new teacher. Sue her, she had never been able to have a proper childhood and socialise with others like her. Mainly because her old man hadn't been able to create more.

Her daily lesson with the big orange grump continued for another hour, as per their agreement. Simaris refused to give her direct answers to her problems, but he was exceedingly good at leading her towards the solution, as long as it was in her power to implement it. He was also quite good at taking apart her works, pointing out all the flaws, and then slapping them back together so she could do it herself.

Her quality assurance and idiot-proofing methods had experienced something that could only be called a 'golden age'. It was marvelous. In a few more weeks she might even be able to take apart and copy some of Leet's inventions, provided things kept advancing at a steady pace.

No, she didn't particularly enjoy having her labs explode for reasons she couldn't even predict, why do you ask?

As schoolgirl Dragon left her classroom and rejoined the greater whole, Dragon cracked her metaphorical knuckles and got back to work. She had suits to improve, corrupt politicians and policemen and judges to, ah, incriminate, and several inventions to put through their paces.

And a private business to start. Employees didn't just sprout from the ground, after all. Well, not usually. She would have to ask Simaris if the fabled Caretaker had that ability. She could use a more organic touch for some of her projects. Speaking of which.

A newly acquitted Page Mcabee shook hands with the robotic suit. The last few months of her life had been… eventful? Yes, that sounded polite enough. Or maybe interesting, in the Chinese sense.

So maybe telling her abusive stalker boyfriend to go f*ck himself had been a bit of a slip. And nobody could blame her for it, really. What they did blame her for was using her powers on him. On the one hand, that meant he had followed her orders to the letter. On the other hand, that meant he had followed her orders to the letter.

Paige didn't know it was possible for someone to have their legal rights as a person trampled so quickly before it had happened. She was still a bit shocked about that, honestly. One would think that the powers that be would at least pretend not to be so absurdly biased against her, but one would be f*cking wrong.

The worst part was that it was entirely accidental. She never intended to master him, she just wanted the creep to leave her alone. But he just couldn't understand that he didn't own her. Paige was a patient woman, but after a whole year of dealing with his bullsh*t? She was patient, not a doormat.

Even if the whole kangaroo court seemed perfectly willing to trample all over her.

And then, miracle of miracles, Dragon had firmly but politely informed the whole court that if they wouldn't hold a proper trial, she would sue them all for the many, many, many infractions they had accumulated during the whole disaster.

Naturally, most had tried to protest. Naturally, most were now desperately trying to buy back their lawyers, who had decided that no amount of money was worth tying themselves to a sinking ship. Especially not one that was determined to set itself on fire instead of trying to pump out the water.

If she was honest with herself, Paige may have developed a bit of a crush on the famous tinker. She felt that was normal. She also refused to look further into it, because her luck with romance was, very clearly, abysmal. She was ready to be forever single and unwilling to mingle from now on, thank you very much.

That resolve was immediately tested when Dragon had approached her with a job offer. Paige would never be able to sing on a stage again, clearly. Even if she had been judged innocent, the damage was done. The entire world (or at least America, which was the same thing if you asked the Americans) knew her as Bad Canary, terrible master and fiendish mind controller.

According to Dragon, nobody had to know who you were behind a radio. Paige didn't think that was quite correct, but she wasn't going to question the woman that owned more industrial capital than most of Canada combined.

Paige read the contract she had just signed, still in a daze. Nightwave, hosted by Nora Night. Okay. She could work with this. Time to practice her southern twang.

Hannah took a sip from her mug and leaned back. Console duty was boring. Console duty in the middle of the night was doubly so. Even in Brock Bay, few things went bump at four in the morning.

To her side, the radio played a smooth

. The intro to what had quickly transformed into her favorite show.

"Hey there, Dreamers. You hearin' me? I know you are. No need to say anythin'. A hand in yours, a voice for the speechless, a bedtime story for the sleepless. The name's Nora Night, and I got somethin' to say, sweet things. Nightwave is coming," the woman on the other end said. Her voice was smooth, with just a touch of a southern accent. It was rather soothing, Hannah had to admit. Low, measured, the perfect thing to fall asleep to. Not that she could comment on that last one, but the show had glowing reviews for a reason.

Hannah relaxed more as tonight's show started. It was another entry in the story of Jonathan Sims, archivist at the Magnus Institute, London. And Hannah couldn't wait to learn how he would escape his recent kidnapping.

"-can I call you Elias?" the creepy murderous mannequin asked Jon's boss through a tape recorder, as Jon himself was still gagged and bound to his chair. Hannah had to admit, whoever played him was incredibly expressive despite, you know. Not being able to express himself.

"-do you have a preferred brand of lotion?" Nikola continued, having finished taunting Jon's creepy eldritch boss. "Because you have not been taking care of your skin, and we really do need it in better shape before we peel you," it continued, much to Jon's increasing indignation. Hannah didn't think she could be indignant if she was in his situation, but Hannah also had the power of pocket nukes if needed, so.

One would think it would be a terrible idea to listen to a horror podcast at four in the goddamn morning. Hannah would just hum, but inside she knew she would call them a philistine. Some things could only be appreciated with a mug of something warm, sitting in your favorite chair (or any chair, if it was your turn at the console), covered in a comfortable blanket. Just because she was a civil servant didn't mean she couldn't treat herself!

Squealer, once known as Sherrel Bailey before she had discovered the power of drugs and heavy metal (literal and otherwise), swore as she swerved around the traffic, pressing harder on the accelerator. The Endbringer sirens were still howling. Fan-f*ckin-tastic.

First a biotinker decides the city is their goddamn turf, then Skiddy gets ambushed by god knows what and gets arrested, and then Mush gets himself arrested tryna break Skiddy out. By himself. Because the dumb son of a bitch didn't wanna wait until she could come up with something big enough to co*ckslap the PRT with.

And now an Endbringer was showing up to clean house, apparently. Just after the creepy biotinker had cleared out all the squints, too. The Merchants were about to break into a whole new section of the city (ignoring the fact they'd have to fight over it with the crackers. But, like, quietly, otherwise god knows what fresh abomination would sneak up on them), but noooo, things just had to keep. Getting. Worse.

Squealer was bent over a rusty barrel with her pants around her ankles, and God had replaced his dick with a cactus and denied the existence of lube.

She parked her baby by slamming it face-first into a concrete pillar in the PRT parking lot. She didn't have the time to break or some other sh*t like that. She jumped out of the driver's seat, opened the side doors for her addled boys to pour out of (for once, sober, and wishing they weren't. No man had to experience what the inside of a washing machine felt like when it was mid spin-cycle).

She left them behind as she entered the cape room. The big man himself, Legend of the Triumvirate, was doing a speech. She didn't bother to listen, she'd already participated in a fight the last time an Endbringer hit the States. She just looked at him and tried not to lick her lips. Man just had this aura about him, y'kno?

Squealer would've offered to drop down and suck his dick, in public or in private. Shame the man was gay. Not even her massive titt*es could straighten a man that worked on a curve.

The speech came to a bit of a halt as a massive suit of armor in the shape of a dragon landed outside the window. Squealer felt the need to pinch herself. God in heaven, the thing was almost 20 feet tall. Shame it was so shiny and polished, and it didn't have nearly enough spikes for her taste, but damn. Just looking at that baby made the juices flow, in all ways that mattered. And many more that didn't but that wasn't gonna stop Squealer from having a good night with a bottle of wine, a joint, and Mr. Fantastic.

Well. If she lived past today.

She was pulled back in the moment when someone knocked on the door. Loudly, at that. Every cape in the room turned to look at the sudden interruption. One guy in a tophat, Squealer had no idea who it was, decided to open it. And then stepped back as four armored figures stepped in. Two males and two females, armed to the teeth. They looked around the room, before one turned around and made a sign.

A fifth figure walked in, holding a large crate that jingled and clattered with every step. This one was just straight up a robot.

Squealer noted with glee that none of the Bay capes even blinked when the thing started talking, unlike the rest of the room. She took a stealthy pic of Legend as he just stared, stupefied. Squealer could bet that he thought the stories coming out of good ol' BB were just pranks, but HA! Aw yeah, her prospective night was getting better and better.

Assault slipped on the armband as he watched the newcomers. God, he couldn't even imagine what these ones would do. The last

that had shown up could create stone golems and walls of earth. The

could clone itself and turn into a cloud.

One of the new ones

. She just floated. Assault had no idea who kept making these things, but if he ever met them, he would shake their hand. Judging by the assets on the floating one, they were truly a man of culture. Also probably an actual man, but who knew.

Then the armband beeped, and instead of Dragon, a new voice rang out.

"Greetings, parahumans. I am Cephalon Simaris. Dragon will be busy coordinating her new armors and collecting information, and thus I have offered to take over her usual tasks," the voice explained. Several people tried to ask questions. He ignored them all. "I will also be interpreting for the assistants of the Caretaker, as many of them are not capable of verbal communication. We hope you find these terms acceptable, because they are non-negotiable."

Now that got a reaction. Assault winced as the room burst into noise. The talking robot (EMET, as he had introduced himself) tried to interject, but his voice was drowned out by the many angry parahumans that demanded answers.

The biggest dragon suit he had ever seen let out a loud burst of noise. Immediately, that got everyone's attention, in no small part because most had to cover their ears to avoid any potential damage.

"Please stay calm," Dragon said, her faceplate projecting an exasperated expression. "I can vouch for Simaris. He means well, he's just… grouchy."

The voice in the armbands humphed. Protests started again, less loud this time. It was a good thing Armsy had figured out a way to predict an Endbringer in advance, they would need the time to sort out this bullsh*t.

Assault hugged his wife closer to him. Then he let go when she punched him in the ribs because he tried to pinch her sides. Now she was too busy glaring at him to mind the chaos.

And people said he didn't know how to deal with serious situations, ha!

Tattletale sat with her legs crossed, looking over the available information. In the corner, a

that tried too hard (or maybe too little) to be human hummed to herself, tapping at something on her laptop.

There was a very large circle around her. None of the thinkers wanted to be too close to whatever she was. Not only because she was off-putting, but also because-

Unknown. Unknown. Unknown. Suspected: primeval predator of humanity. Possible emotional manipulation. Possible synthetic form. Possibility denied, teeth are not artificial. Possibility confirmed, dental layout breaks human growth patterns. Possibility unknown. Unk-

She cut that off with a wince. Yeah. Whatever that thing was, every thinker in the room took one look at her, winced, and turned away. From time to time they would look back, and the cycle would repeat. None of their powers, no matter how they manifested, could make sense of her. It was mildly terrifying.

Tattletale had no information on who this Caretaker was, but if he was responsible for making that thing exist, she was fine with the idea of never knowing anything about them. Ever. It wasn't worth it.

Especially since they had sent several such mystery cases to help against Leviathan. Squealer had hit it off with a

that her power insisted was an alien, Panacea had accepted the extra healing from

with visible bitchiness, and many people had been cajoled into shaking hands with EMET just because he was too nice and they didn't know how to turn him down.

The woman thing in the corner had just said she wanted to pin the Endbringer down and peel its secrets out of it, one at a time. Which was exactly what the other thinkers were here to do, but none of them sounded so creepy.

She barely restrained herself from looking at the Corner of Pain™ again. Which was harder than it sounded, because she had already turned her chair to face away from the woman. Somehow, she was always in the corner of Lisa's eye. It was way too goddamn creepy.

Lisa swore to herself that she would put Coil below the woman on the Creep-List. Because yeah, she was pretty sure the f*cker had used his power to torture her and get off on it, but at least he was human. Humans could be shot in the f*cking head, Lisa wasn't gonna try her chances with the woman.

Amy Dallon put her hand on the parahuman in front of her and started unf*cking his busted knee. Deaden the nerves. Pull the shards of bone out of the flesh. Glue them back together. Attach to the rest of the bone. Reset the kneecap in the right position. Heal the fracture. Undo the inflammation of the muscles. Glue the arteries and veins and muscle back together. Pull the blood back inside, discard the stale blood. Restart the blood flow. Restart the nerves.

Move on to the next wound. This one would be able to breathe freely again by the time she was done with him.

In the other tent, she heard the distinct noise of Trinity's healing. It had been grating to share her duties with a stranger, but it had also been a welcome reprieve. For once, it wasn't all on her to heal everyone. She felt ashamed of her relief, but she couldn't stop it.

She resolved to never tell Carol she was happy about not having to heal people.

It wasn't all calm for her, of course. Simaris had informed her that Trinity was good for triage work, not prolonged healing. She could easily fix up those that only had a few broken bones or a concussion or a clean amputation. She could not fix deeper wounds with the same level of precision Amy could. Still, that was enough. Trinity was doing most of the work, as many of the wounded were brutes that had risked getting close to the main fight in order to land a hit or rescue someone. They could live long enough to get emergency aid and then be tossed back into the fight, leaving Amy to deal with the worst cases.

She was too afraid to ask, but she was pretty sure that there were a lot less losses than expected for an Endbringer fight. So far, at least.

There was a loud thump, and then

entered her tent, carrying a woman that was mostly paste from her stomach down.

"Put her over there, quickly," she snapped, and he acted instantly. Amy put her hand on the woman's head as Limbo lowered her on a stretcher. Damn. Damn damn sh*t f*ck sh*t-

Five minutes later, she let out a shaky breath as the woman was stabilised. Not healed, she would need to spend at least an hour for that, but no longer in danger of death. Something tapped her on the shoulder and she started. She looked up to see Trinity, the tall creature offering her a bottle of water.

Amy muttered her thanks as she took the drink. Her fingers touched Trinity's hand. Time stopped.

Artificial creation, made from a test subject, infected with unknown disease. Metal natural, organic, cultivated to grow in the desired shape. Organs optimised, enhanced by genetic modification, secondary circulatory system present, does not carry blood, used to circulate v̷̺̂o̸̟̱͠͠í̸̟͘d̷̫̭́̐ ̷̡͉͒̽ḛ̴̃n̸̠͝͝ê̵͙͝r̸̠̔g̶̤̓̀y̵̜̔̚-

Amy snapped out of it, gasping. She stared at the creature in front of her, eyes wide with horror and wonder alike.

"Who did this to you," she muttered, trying to understand the absolute marvel of bio-technology standing in front of her.

Trying to understand how someone could be so cruel to a living being.

The creature shrugged. Amy took a deep breath, but before she could start asking some very pointed questions, Limbo arrived with another victim. Trinity took this one to her tent, and then Amy watched Limbo walk to the edge of the roof, turn slightly see-through, and simply leap off. If she hadn't seen him land without even a crack on the pavement, she would've been worried. As it was, she simply sighed deeply, made sure her hands had stopped shaking, and got back to work.

Questions later, saving lives now.

Simaris reported a few more fallen parahumans as he tracked Leviathan's movements. The creature possessed incredible speed, much more than he had been led to believe. The water construct mirroring it was just as deadly, in its own way. He paid attention to the gathered thinkers as they ratted off theories and information, bouncing off one another in a feedback loop of information, trying to figure out how to kill the beast.

He helped, though not as much as he would have wanted. The Caretaker could 'extract' his

from him, but he only had a handful of those so far, and the creature moved too quickly to get a good look either way. Still, Simaris was not helpless without his tools. He had earned the right to become a Cephalon by his own merit, advanced tools or not.

The fighting was hectic and brutal, but inbetween the bursts of violence and reports of wounded or falled parahumans, Simaris passed his observations to Morgane Dwire. He noted how it required exponentially more energy to make deeper wounds, but the extremities of the body seemed to be less resistant than the torso. He noted how, several times, it had reacted to something attacking it from behind, despite having no way to see it coming. In fact, several times it had reacted almost before the attack was launched.

A priority message request. He saw it was from one of the thinkers and patched it through to all the fighters.

"It's blind," a young girl said, "the eyes are just decoration and bait. It has other ways to see, it doesn't need its head for anything! Focus on the torso, it has extra protections for something there!"

"All parahumans, target the left side of its chest," another priority message said, from one of the leaders of the PRT. Alexandria, this one called herself. How presumptuous. "If this thing has a heart, we might be able to scare it away if we dig deep enough."

Simaris doubted it would work. Several deep wounds and gashes had been made already, and he had yet to see anything resembling a cardio-vascular system. Whatever anatomy this creature possessed, it clearly did not have the same organs as most living creatures.

Simaris reached for the Caretaker through their bond. The human was hidden safely inside Limbo's rift, unreachable to anything but Limbo himself. With this, and because he was on the other side of the city, the Caretaker had managed to keep himself remarkably composed for someone that had spent most of his life as a civilian. Simaris asked for permission to deploy more help. The Caretaker requested more information first. Though the inaction galled at him a little, Simaris could understand where the caution came from.

Something burst from the PRT parking lot. It looked like a mobile scrapyard, comprised of half a dozen different styles. It slid across the ground, floating with anti-gravity technology. It swerved and swayed, slamming through more than a few lampposts, abandoned cars and bus stops as it rushed towards the Endbringer. Simaris felt Hob's presence inside the… vehicle, and reached towards the gremlin-like alien for an explanation. He only heard maniacal cackling.

Apparently, the diminutive alien could not reach the pedals. He had solved this by simply sticking several bricks over the accelerator, and now only concerned himself with steering. Unfortunately, he was also unable to see over the dashboard properly.

Simaris dearly hoped there was some sort of insurance for Endbringer fights, because he was quite sure the Caretaker could not afford to pay for the damages the scrap fortress was accumulating as it tore through the streets. A deep despair and exasperation twinged over the bond with the Caretaker, confirming his beliefs.

As the tinker-made abomination bull-rushed the Endbringer while blasting loud, incomprehensible metal music, Simaris wondered if the beast could feel confusion. Or if it could feel offended. Simaris himself felt offended, and this thing wasn't even aimed at him.

The hydrokinetic beast punched towards the 'vehicle', and to the shock of everyone, its fist simply glanced off millimetres before contact. The creation slammed into Leviathan's stomach, knocking it off its feet. Simaris was quite sure the expression on its face would become wildly popular on the primitive information network of this world.

Midway through their flight, the scrap machine started unfolding itself. Simaris watched with consternation as the slapdash vehicle disgorged several times its mass in robotic tentacles, all of which clamped around the Endbringer, holding its arms against its chest and its tail against its legs.

Simaris was quite sure that this would not hold the beast for long. That was fine, it only needed to hold for long enough. From the top of the PRT building, Wisp laid down her weapon and raised a Scanner. As Leviathan struggled and the octo-mobile started to creak and groan, Simaris received the information.

Were he flesh and blood, he would have started cackling in victory. As it was, he indulged in a single moment of triumphant glee, then got to work. The Caretaker was informed of the Endbringer's attributes and weaknesses, and a plan was formed.

First step, get rid of the rain. Wisp jumped off the building and summoned her

. Then she took off, ascending far above the clouds.

Moments later, the sun shone on Brockton Bay.

ran. He had been teleported in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, stacked with many, many, many buffs, and ordered to build up speed. Gauss didn't really know what the strange new Tenno had in mind, but that was okay. As always, the Tenno provided the mind and the will, and the warframes provided the skill and power.

And so he ran, and ran, and ran. For over an hour, faster and faster, Gauss tore through the desert, back and forth, again and again. He had broken the sound barrier a long time ago. His armor was smoking. His stride left great rents into the dirt.

Still, he ran.

The orders changed. A burst of energy, a surge of speed. For one, glorious moment, Gauss felt himself press against the laws of physics. He called upon the powers of the void, and physics gave way.

For the first time in his existence, Gauss broke the light barrier. Approximately two seconds later, every window and glass screen in Brockton Bay shattered as a projectile weighing nearly a ton slammed into Leviathan at speeds no mortal mind could comprehend.

As his body melted into plasma, taken far, far beyond the limits the new Tenno could enhance it to, Gauss figured that tearing a nigh-invulnerable enemy in half was a pretty good way to die.

From the sky, they descended.

, but could never be mistaken for human. For one, it had too many limbs. For two, simply looking at it provoked feelings of nausea and terror. Whatever this thing was, it was ẁ̶̷̧̢̢̕͜͢͜͠͝͡͠͏̴҉̡̛͝͠͠҉̸̷̶̶̶̵̨̡̢̛́̀̀̀͘̕͢͟͝͝͡͡͠͞͏̨͠͠҉̸̵̵̴̴̸̷̧̢̛́̀́́̕͝͝͝͞͞͝͝҉͞͏̶̵̵̷̷̸̵̶̨̢̧̡̧̢̧̧̀́̀́́́̕̕̕͢͟͢͢͜͢͠͞͞͡҉̕͏̛̀͘҉̶̸̵̶̸̷̵̨̡̨̧̨̨̛̛́̕̕͘̕͘̕͜͢͟͢͝͡͠͡͡͞͠͞͏́҉̵̵́́́͜͟͢͡͞͏̵͢҉҉̷̸̡̧́͜͜͠͏̶̵͘͝҉̵̧̨̢̀͠҉҉̛̛̀͘͟͞҉̸̶̸̷̧̛̀͘͜͡͞͡҉̸̵̧̀͜͠ŕ̶̵̸̵̸̡̛͘̕͟͟͢͡͠͞҉͏̵̧̧̧̡̡̢̛̛̛͘̕͝҉̴̵̸̷̸̨̢̢̧́̀͘͘̕̕͢͟͞͝͝͠͠͝͡҉̸̢̛̛̀͜͠͠҉̕͟o̵̧̕͞҉̵̛́͏̸̨̨̨́͘̕҉̴̕͢͟͏̶͏̛͞҉̷̀͡҉̸̷̶̵̸̢̧̨̨̡̢̢̡̨̧̛̛̀͘͘͘̕͢͟͢͜͢͞͠͠͡͏̷̶̷̴̵̶̴̷̡̢̛͘̕̕͘͘̕͟͜͟͢͝͠͡͞҉̕͘͠҉̧̢̢̛́̀͘̕͜҉̶̶̶̷̸̡̧̡̛̛́̕͘͜͟͜͟͜͢͟͟͟͡͞҉̵͘͢͞͏̵̶̡̧̡̡̨̛̀́̀͘̕͘̕͟͢͟͟͞͞͝͝͠͞͡͞͝͞͝͝҉̴̵̡͝͏̸̵̶̷̸̸̡̛͘͢͟͜͞͝͡͝͏̴̸̡̛͘͘͜͟͡͏҉̷̨̧̧̨̛̛́͘͘͜͝͠͞͞͞͝͡҉̷̶̧́͢͏ń̵̵̨̨̨̨̨̡̢̨̛̀́́̀͘̕͘͢͟͟͞͠͞͠͝͡͠͏̧͜͠͏̶̵̨̢̢́͟͟͜͞͝͡͝͏̸̷̷̢̛̀̀̀͢͜͟͜͝҉̕͟҉̀͘͏͝g͏͘͜͏̶̴̸̶̸̡̢̨̀̕͞͏̵̕͢͏̵̢͏̵̢̨̀̕͘͟͡͡͝҉͏̴̶̸̶̸̢̢̛̀̀̀̕͜͢͜͜͜͜͡͞͝͞҉̢̢̨́͟͜͜͏̀͜͏̷̧͜͢͢͠͝҉̵̡̕͡͡͏̸̴̢̧̨̀̀̀͟͢͢͞͞ ̴̷̷̨̡̧̛̛́́̕͜͜͢͠͡͝҉̸̡̧̛́͟͟͢͏̶̴̴̵̶̢̢̨̨̡́̀̀͘̕͢͢͢͠͡͝͡͞҉̴̸̨̧̛́̕͞͡͝͏̷̸̶̷̸̶̸̢̧̨̢̡̛́́͟͝͠͝͡͡͞͠͝͞͡҉̶̨̕͟͏҉̸̷̸̶̸̡̧̧̨̛̛́́̕͢͜͞͠҉w̸̢҉̷̴̴̶̀͘͟͢͢͝͡͡͡͝͞͝͡͏̵̸̨̧̢́͟͠͞͝͠͏̀͞҉͏̶̷̷̵̡̢̀̀̕҉͜҉̨̛͘͞҉̵͜҉̸̷̸̸̧̧̢̀͞͏̨̕͝͞͏̕͜͏̵͡͡͏̢̧͠͏̧̡҉̷̶̶̴̴̴̶̷̷̶̴̵̶̷̵̷̴̶̸̵̢̢̡̧̢̛̛́̀́͘͜͢͟͜͡͝͞͠͞͝͝͠͝͝͡͏̸̷̶̸̸̵̧̛̛̕̕͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͞͞͠͠҉̶̡̡̨́͘͢͢͜҉̶̴̸̀͝͏̸̛́̀̕͜͠͏̶̸̶̷̵̶̶̴̶̡̧̧̢̢̢̧̀́́͘͘̕̕͘̕͜͟͞͡͞҉́҉̨̧̕͜͏҉̵̶̴̵̵̸̵̡̨̛́́̀̀́́͘͢͞͡͝͏̵̵̢̛͘͟͜͢͝ŗ́͏̵̵̷̵̸̸̸̸̨̧̧̧̧̧̨́̀̕̕̕̕͘͟͟͟͢͞͞҉̸̵̵̸̨̨̛̛͘̕͜͜͟͜͠͝͞͠͞͠҉̸̵̢̧́̕͢͟͝͏̀͏̵̸̷̸́̀͢͠͞͡͏̴̴̨̡̕͟͢͢͠͡͝҉̶̴̸̴̸̸̶̵̸̷̢̨̨́͜͞͡͝͠͡͡҉̷̴̷́́͟͏̵͢͝҉̴̢̀̀͘̕͟͜͢͢҉̸̸o̷̵̷̡̧̕̕̕̕͘͢͜͟͡͝͡ǹ̨̧̕̕͟͡͠͡͠҉҉̶҉̶̡͡͏̢̀̀͢͜͟͞͠͏͜ģ̷̴̧̢̛̀͘͟͜͞͝͡͠͡͡҉̶̸̢̢̢̢̡̡́͘͜͜͟͞͡͠҉̷̴̶̸̨̧̀̕̕͢͠͏̸̸̢͘̕͝͏ ̴̶̸̸̢͢͟͜͞҉̶̴̶̨̢͘͜҉̴̷̵́͢͏̵̵̶̢̀͜͠͡͏̴̸̶̴̢̧̨̢̡̢͟͡͝͞͠͠͏̸̡̢̧̨̛́͘͘͘͟͜͜͜͟͟͠҉̵̴̷̵̷̷̷̨̧̢̡̡̛́́͢͢͟͝͞͞҉̶̡̛w̷̵͏̵͡҉̧҉̷̶̴̵̶̵̢̨̛̛́́̀̀̕͟͜͡͏̵̶̷̴̸̷̸̴̧̢̧̧̢̢̛̀́̀́́́͘͘͜͜͡͠͞͠͞͝͝͝҉̷̷̢̀́̕ŕ̷̵̴̷̸̷̴̵̨̧̧̛̀͘͜͟͜͠͝͞͞͏͡҉͏̷̷̶̴̶̷̶̶̵̵̷̧̢̨̨̧̛̀́͘̕̕̕͘͘͘͢͟͡͠҉̵̨́͜͜͡҉͏҉͝͏̸̷̶̸̛̛̀͘͠͡ơ͏͟͏̴̧̛̀͜͏̵̢̢̢̢̢̨̢̨̛̕͘͟͞͝͡͡҉̸̷̶̧̢̢҉ń̷̷̶̡̧̨̡̧́̕͟͢͢͏̶̸̴̨͘͟͟͞͠҉̷̷̷̷̶̵̴̶̷̢̧̨̢̨̧̛̛̛́͘͜͜͡҉g̷̴̸̴̢̧̧̡̢̡̕͜͢͠͞͞. For three, it glowed with a sickening yellow light. All who laid eyes upon it trembled and knew fear.

The Naagloshii descended, the beast inside his mind screeching with vicious glee. Broken-bones-leak-marrow (or Steven, as the funny little mortal had decided to call him) didn't really understand the where, why or how of the

he had been partnered with, but he didn't need to. All he needed to know was that it grew stronger with fear, and he was quite good at sowing fear and reaping terror. And it showed.

As the mortals caught sight of him, he felt himself swell with power. The yellow light of fear pulsed out of him, and he let his flesh flow along with it, strengthening it from the inside. He turned his feet into a horrible drill, then drop-kicked the bottom half of the beast he had been sent out to slaughter. He knew that its heart was in the other half, but his first task was to separate the two parts, just in case the creature could force them back together.

It would not do to waste the sacrifice of his comrade like that. He was many things, but let it not be said one of those things was ungrateful.

As he sailed off into the distance, grinding into- and through- the waist of the beast, he watched his other partner do his thing.

took a deep breath, and made the heavens roar out in rage. A column of lightning slammed into Leviathan's top half, aimed squarely at the center of its chest. It was a display of magnificent power. The might of gods made manifest. It was beautiful.

It was terrible. The majestic creature radiated hatred. It hated the world it lived in. It hated the disgusting ants crawling through the dirt. It wanted to destroy it all, piece by piece, just so it could feel their terror.

Most of all, it hated the creature that dared to control the rains, as if it deserved to even look upon the heavens, let alone pretend to rule over them.

D̸̮͑͒͊͝ị̴̧̡͕͓̌̔̽͋͐̏̔s̷͚̅g̸̗̙͗͂̑ũ̵̗̱͍̘s̴͙͍͉̠̬͂̈̓̌ṫ̴̝̮͙̭̫͖̾̐̊̋̔̏͜͝į̸͍̯̱̫̞͛̽̇̅̆͋̾͘n̵͕̻̙͕̠̰̝͔͗͆̓̉͛̓͜ĝ̵̛̟̈́̈́̀͐̔̈͌.̶̡̤̣͎̰̭̖̻͆̎͂̄̈͂

The Emperor Fatalis flew around in circles, before suddenly diving to avoid a jet of water. It spat another bolt at the creature, but found itself unable to truly penetrate through the flesh. The closer it got to its target, the more power it had to spend to deal any damage. It growled, displeased, and charged another great bolt of lightning. It would not be denied. Its world had once known the terror of its descendants. This new world would learn to fear his might as well. Anything else was unacceptable.

The cloud cover got thicker. The rain started pouring faster, and many combatants had to retire, unable to withstand the assault. What had once been regular rain soon started to feel like falling stones. By this point, most of the city had been evacuated to the shelters, and so many parahumans decided to retreat as well. They had saved as many as they could, but it was clear that things were progressing far faster than any of them could cope with.

This was the most an Endbringer had been damaged, to be sure. But it was clear that whoever controlled these monsters wasn't willing to accept anything less than total victory. Many started praying, hoping that today they would witness the end of an Endbringer.

Wisp came down, her shields protecting her from the harsh rain. Her systems flared up, energy started pumping through her body. In mere seconds, she made the calculations. She opened the portal. A beam of nuclear fire, sourced straight from the sun itself, tore through the skies, evaporating everything in its path. She spun in a circle, turning a large area of the rainstorm into what could only be described as the eye of the hurricane.

Leviathan took this poorly. Lances of water started lashing out from the flooded earth, smashing and cutting everything around it. Many parahumans were blown away, landing in a pile of broken bones. If they were lucky. Many more were simply torn apart, or exploded like fleshy balloons.

Some lucky few suddenly found themselves in a grayscale world, and could only watch as the water simply passed through them. They tried fighting back, only for their attacks to go through the Endbringer as if it was a ghost.

"Do not waste your strength," their armband spoke. "You are removed from your reality at the moment. Limbo cannot shift the beast, but he tried saving as many of you as he could. Retreat for now, things will only get worse. The beast is getting desperate."

They could do nothing but obey. Many of them were directed to some of the fallen, shifting back into reality long enough to pick up the victims, before being shunted back out. The healing tents would soon be filled to capacity.

Steven slithered towards the fight. He had done his job, taking the bottom half of Leviathan far away from the city. Now it was his turn to join the fun. His arms were engulfed by yellow light, and he swung them like whips. Mid-strike, they turned into serrated blades. They struck Leviathan and coiled around his torso, and then they started moving, grinding away like chainsaws. Gorged from the terror of the city, whose guardians had just realised the Endbringer had been sandbagging all along, Steven started sawing through the layers of alien flesh.

As he hit the thing's skeleton, an unholy noise started ringing out. His own quasi-divine flesh and bone ground against the hyper-dense material, both determined to prove stronger than the other.

All the water surrounding Steven rose up, blindly striking at him. Unfortunately for Leviathan, Steven was completely unrestrained from such things as "the laws of biology and physics", and there wasn't a single drop of liquid in his body. He floated above the water, and with no rain, he was effectively invisible to Leviathan. Most of the attacks simply missed him, and those that hit were easily blocked or deflected by his yellow light.

But the beast learned from its failures, and each wave of attacks grew more and more precise. Soon enough, it would be able to concentrate enough force to break through Steven's shields and then Steven himself. This would not kill him, of course, but it would likely disable him for the rest of the fight.

Though this was a glorious fight, worthy of legends, it was starting to look like it would end, at best, in a stalemate.

And then. As if by miracle, his summoner started radiating hysterical glee. Steven sent a question, and he felt he was not the only one. The only reply was a general order to evacuate.

'I cast Summon Bigger Fish', he said. Steven looked at Vortigern, the dragon looked at Steven, and they both shrugged. They had thought that one of them counted as "bigger fish", but apparently that was not the case. They backed off, leaving only a layer of fear to hold Leviathan down.

And then the water in the entire city started floating. Swirling. Rising towards the sky.

A screech tore through the heavens.

arose, ready and willing to tear the pretender to her name into bloody ribbons.

Dragon felt all her systems stutter to a halt. This was not the first time she had been surprised in the last few hours. This entire Endbringer fight, from the planning phase until now, had been full of surprises.

She knew EMET and Simaris were in contact with the mysterious cape that was responsible for all the new creatures in Brockton Bay, hell she knew they worked for him. She had been able to communicate with the man, albeit indirectly, on the night when she had won her freedom and arrested the Dragonslayers. EMET had even confided in her that it was her kind nature that had won her the chance to live freely for the first time in her existence. She even knew how impressive Simaris was, from a technological point of view. She was the only one that could fully appreciate that, even.

She did not know the full extent of the might said cape could bring to bear. The warframes were unusual, certainly. A healer was always welcome. Limbo had proven himself extremely adept at search and rescue, and strangely skilled at magical tricks. Gauss… she didn't really know what Gauss had contributed, to be honest. Though she suspected something, given the trajectory of the projectile that had torn through Leviathan.

But then Wisp had decided to create what could only be described as a coronal mass ejection. Twice. What.

And then the dragon and the… thing. Dragon was an AI. She did not have a body. She had her Ancalagon suit, as well as several other, smaller suits, but they were fully mechanical.

She should not have been able to feel the hatred of the dragon in her bones. Looking at the bright yellow creature should not evoke a deep feeling of disgust in a stomach that she didn't even have.

She should not feel the need to fall to her knees in front of the big Leviathan that had just torn its way out of the seas. And the mere notion that she had to specify that the Endbringer was the smaller of the two? Absurd. Utterly absurd.

It made no sense. It couldn't make sense. It should not be.

It very clearly was.

The water around the two monsters swirled and churned. Jets of liquid moving fast enough to pierce diamond tore through the air towards the giant sea serpent. Halfway through, they swirled around it, joining the general mass that spun around the impossibly long beast.

It opened its mouth, letting out a contemptuous groan. Despite her best efforts, Dragon could not stop herself from understanding it.

A mocking rebuke. A challenge to an inferior, a taunting encouragement. This cannot be all. Come, pitiful creature, you can surely do better.

Dragon wondered if this is what a religious experience felt like. If so, she could understand why the people of old had worshiped YHWH. She felt like she could understand what many people had prayed for when the skies had flooded the earth.

The Endbringer struggled. More and more water rose under its control, flying off into spiraling drills, cutting jets and screaming whips. Nothing worked. And with each failure, its range of control shrunk, bit by bit.

Dragon came to the realisation that the serpent was playing with its food.

But the game could last only so long before it started getting boring. With a scoff, Leviathan struck back at its so-called rival. Despite breaking the sound barrier, the jet of water did not evaporate or lose cohesion. It cut straight through the Endbringer's flesh and bones with nigh-surgical precision. A second one followed, angled slightly different. Over and over, Leviathan tore at the thing in front of it in a methodical and brutal fashion. Soon, something started glimmering through the ruined carcass of the Endbringer.

It was an orb, roughly the size of a human head. Perfectly spherical, it sat nestled at the center of the Endbringer's rib cage as Leviathan carved it free.

Suddenly, the orb tore itself free and shot into the air, away from Leviathan. It was immediately struck by lightning. This didn't seem to damage it too much, but it did slow it down. The yellow monster jumped towards it, engulfing it in a prison of yellow light and twisting flesh.

Dragon prepared herself to see an Endbringer die, assuming Leviathan would simply spear it through with her water. And then the world would be rid of a monster. Kyusu and Newfound-Land would be avenged. Her father's killer would be destroyed.

What she didn't expect was for the orb to be dragged towards the ground. She could see it struggle against its bindings, but for now it was still trapped. She got closer, hoping to get an answer, and she spotted Limbo approach, something

on his shoulder. Carefully, Limbo picked up the pink thing and put it down gently, patting it on the head. Then the flesh prison opened.

As she was about to scream and lunge forwards, Dragon witnessed the pink thing open its mouth wide. And then wider. A perfect circle, taller and wider than the pink thing itself. It started sucking in the air. The Endbringer's orb started struggling, trying to fly away, but it was in vain. It inched closer and closer to the impossible maw.

And then it was over. The pink thing lunged forwards, shoving the orb inside its mouth. With a gulp, it shrunk down to its base size. It seemed to vibrate in place slightly, before it suddenly sprouted a thick, stubby tail.

, and Dragon could only watch as one of the greatest threats to the world was devoured with a cheerful cry of "Poyo!"

It was weird. Leviathan was dead, yet people weren't as happy as he would have expected. Well, he supposed that a lot of parahumans had died at the end there as it had gotten more and more desperate, but still. There should be more celebrations, right?

He'd heard on the radio that other countries were celebrating, and even other parts of the States. But in Brockton? A lot quieter than he had expected. Weird. Something was up.

"Hey, Morgane?"

"Hm?" the fae answered from her loveseat, buried under several blankets as she tapped at her laptop. Probably brokering information, that was her favorite past-time.

"Could I borrow your laptop for a bit, please? I'd like to check the internet," he requested.

"Well, I may be convinced to part with it for an offering of more hot chocolate," she offered, batting her eyelashes at him. He looked at the pile of empty cups at her side. They were arranged in a castle. Admittedly, it was a very fancy castle, especially when it was all made from paper cups, but still. He looked back at the fae. She smiled sweetly.

"Yeah, okay. Extra milk?" he gave in without any effort. They both knew how this would end, after all.

"You know it boss-man, just the way I like it!" she called back cheerfully.

He simply snorted. Who knew fairies from another dimension could be sugar fiends?

Five minutes and a trade later, he settled back on the sofa, ready to read through some PHO forums. Not the most accurate source of news, sure, but he was more interested in what people had to say, not in what Big Media wanted him to think they had to say.

'Leviathan's dead, long live Leviathan!' a thread proclaimed. He opened it up. The OP had started with a small summary of the pre-fight preparation. He frowned a bit as he read about how EMET and Simaris had been nearly forced out of the whole thing, but he was happy Dragon had vouched for them. She was a nice person, he was happy to have helped her.

Plus, the little crush EMET had developed on her was adorable. He resolved to see if he could get them to go on a date. From what he knew, she was interested in someone already, but it was incredibly one-sided. She could do better, surely.

He hummed as he read further, frowning at the list of losses. Still, it looked like his warframes had done great for themselves. Wisp's reservoirs had provided valuable buffs, making the fighters faster and more resilient, giving them a bit of regeneration even. Trinity had proven her worth and more in the healer tents, sending people back out into the fight almost as soon as they entered. Limbo had walked the streets, helping civilians reach shelter, and stopping many from being hurt by simply phasing them away from the danger.

Gauss didn't get the recognition he deserved, but he knew the speed demon wouldn't mind. After all, he had achieved something he hadn't even thought possible, and even though he had landed only one hit on Leviathan, well.

Hell of a hit.

But then he started frowning as he reached the part where he had to summon the big guns. A lot of people seemed… afraid. His frown grew more and more as he pieced together bits of context into something that left him more than a little confused.

And why were people so afraid of Kirby? He was small and adorable. He was pink, for God's sake! And yet many people kept asking what he was?

(Admittedly, EMET's reply that Kirby was a baby that wanted to be a food critic when he grew up was pretty funny. Especially with the chaos it created in the thread. He sent EMET a mental thumbs up, which was received with joy. And a bit of confusion, but mostly joy.)

He backed out of the thread and started searching the forums, going back. There were… a lot of threads. Threads about his summons. Threads about his summons stopping crime.

Threads about his summons stopping crime by scaring people. Hm.

He kept reading, and with each new instance his eyes kept getting wider. He felt his hands shake. He put the laptop down and buried his face in his palms.

"Hey, uh. Bossman, you good?" Morgane called out from behind her paper cup fort. She'd never seen her summoner be so… distraught? Was that the right word?

He rubbed his face and let out a huge sigh. Then he looked her in the eyes.

"Morgane," he began, his voice devoid of emotion. "Have we been solving crime by scaring criminals into going on the straight and narrow?"

The fae opened her mouth, closed it, and cupped her chin. She thought about it for a moment. Then she thought some more. Hesitantly, she looked at her summoner.

"Was… was that not the plan?" she asked, unsure.

Alex Crewser, Keeper of the Celestial Menagerie and apparently the most infamous vigilante in the world, fell face first into the cushions of his couch, and then he screamed.

He didn't know how, but he could swear that God was laughing at his misery.

for clarity, Morgane is the sluagh, Hob is the gremlin alien whose name i dont wanna write, and Vortigern is the fatalis.

whew lads. the third and final part of this little series, as far as im concerned. i spoiled how it ended in the first part, but i bet some of you didnt expect me to stick to that

massive props to @zagan , who was there for the entire 6 hour journey of banging this thing out, and helped point out a few glaring mistakes. hes also the one that gave morgane her name.

if anyone is wondering why there are so many warframes, i like warframe.

if theres a problem with a certain gif, a mod can message me and ill remove it. i dont THINK its a problem, thats the official ingame model doing an official ingame emote, but still.

if you have any questions, ask. and please point out any typos you see, i did my best to iron them out but im just one man. one man that has been writing this for 6 hours and editing it for another 1.

im out.