"…the children, just shoot. Doesn't matter your aim, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little bitch twice more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?"
Those were the horrible words that started this catastrophe.
They stuck with Taylor as she curled up and hoped someone—anyone—would distract Lung long enough for her to escape without being burned alive.
This was her fault. She knew it was. But in her defense—if there was one—things hadn't started off this bad. At first, things had gone almost perfectly. Her insects had swarmed his men in a suffocating tide, crawling into sleeves, biting exposed skin, stinging where necessary. The ABB soldiers panicked, pain and fear breaking their discipline. Even Lung himself had been helpless at the start, his frustration amounting to little more than swatting at bugs and incinerating handfuls of them at a time.
The adrenaline rush had hit her like a drug. The rush of control. The grim, almost shameful thrill of organizing an attack and watching it work. It felt so good she'd had to actively stifle her giggles at the beginning of her attack.
Because this was exactly like she'd imagined escaping her mundane, suffocating life would feel like. It wasn't just that either—this attack was proof that she wasn't helpless. That she wasn't just a victim. That Taylor Hebert, wasn't everything the three bitches said she was.
Then Lung set himself on fire.
Everything spiraled after that.
What had been a one-sided fight turned into a desperate scramble to survive his wrath.
Now here she was, trapped on that rooftop with no clear escape, Lung growing larger and more monstrous by the second as he cursed at her, demanding she give him something to aim at while she cowered.
Then—impossibly—a small drone appeared above her curled-up form.
It came out of nowhere. A round, angular thing hovering quietly, no propellers or thrusters in sight. Before she could even process it, it opened fire.
Shots punched into Lung's chest, tearing through silver scales and drawing blood. One shot caught the eye she hadn't blinded, and Lung howled, raw and furious, as fire burst from his palms, flying wide and missing the thing entirely.
The drone didn't stop. It kept shooting and dodging, methodical and relentless, dragging Lung's attention away from her before going low and shooting him in the knee. He howled in pain, forced to stop firing to catch himself before he face-planted.
Then the drone turned toward her.
"Grab. Jump."
Its voice was flat. Mechanical. No urgency. No reassurance. No command.
Desperate as she was, she didn't question it. She staggered to her feet, fear making her movements clumsy, grabbed the hook-like protrusions extending from the drone, and jumped.
The drone yanked her off the edge of the roof immediately.
Taylor screamed before she could stop herself. The rooftop vanished, gravity seized her, and her stomach lurched violently as they dropped. Wind tore at her costume, the world blurring as panic threatened to overwhelm her. She clenched her jaw, forced herself to breathe. To focus.
Below them, she threw everything she had left into motion. Every remaining insect responded, funneling into a dense, buzzing cloud beneath them. She pushed them to make as much noise as possible—wings beating, bodies colliding—anything to confuse Lung's enhanced hearing.
It didn't work.
The second her feet touched the street, Lung followed the sound.
He hit the ground in an explosion of fire and force that vaporized the swarm instantly. The heat slammed into her like a wall. She was thrown clear, hitting the pavement and curling in on herself reflexively, eyes screwed shut, bracing for agony that never came.
When she opened her eyes, she couldn't see herself.
For a heartbeat, she thought she was dead.
No—she could feel the pavement beneath her, the rasp of her breath, the frantic pounding of her heart. She was there. Just… not visible.
Something invisible pressed into her side—the drone, she realized—nudging insistently, trying to get her to move away from Lung. She froze instead, terror locking her in place. If she moved, if she made a sound, he'd hear her.
Lung stood taller now. Massive enough that she had to crane her neck to see his face. His body was broader, more heavily scaled, his silhouette warped into something barely human. His left eye—the one she'd blinded—was whole again, glowing with molten fury as he scanned the street.
The beginnings of a snout pushed at his face, teeth bared as he snarled.
"Coward," he growled, voice echoing off the buildings. "Bitch. I'll burn you out."
Flames gathered in his hands, brighter and hotter than before.
Taylor was just about to say fuck it and run—
When something fell from the sky.
The impact shook the street like a bomb. Concrete cracked.
It happened so fast she barely registered it before it was over.
A black figure slammed into Lung feet-first, driving his head into the pavement with devastating force. The sound was sickening, and if she hadn't nearly been set on fire by him, she would've been worried he was dead.
The figure straightened from his crouch and stepped away from Lung—toward her. Toward the place where she stood invisible and shaking.
Black armor. Gold trim. A silhouette burned into the public consciousness.
She recognized him instantly.
Who wouldn't? His team had been dominating headlines for months now, spoken of in the same breath as the Triumvirate.
Excalibur Umbra.
He was every bit as tall and imposing as the photos suggested—somehow even cooler in person.
The little drone decloaked and zipped over to him. As he petted its head, it whirred and beeped like a parody of R2-D2. Umbra nodded as if he understood perfectly—then looked directly at her.
Taylor froze, unsure what to say. Maybe thank him—
Her perspective shifted.
She was suddenly in the air, rising past nearby rooftops as an inhuman roar echoed through the streets and fire washed over the block. Fear spiked as gravity reclaimed her, arms flailing as she screamed again—
Only to be held steady by an iron grip on her lower back.
The landing was surprisingly soft despite the height. She was set down and nearly stumbled as she backed away from her savior.
Behind Umbra and the drone, an inferno raged. Lung had gotten up, sprouting like a weed—growing faster and larger at a rate she hadn't thought possible. Eight feet. Ten. Thirteen. Still climbing.
Umbra paid it no mind.
He looked directly at her and held out his hand, palm up.
She thought he was asking her to take it before light bloomed from his wrist.
A holographic message appeared above his palm.
Emergency Services en route now.
Evacuate civilians from surrounding buildings before fire spreads.
Shade will protect you while you do.
I will deal with Lung.
Do you understand?
Taylor swallowed hard.
Her heart was still trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her hands shook. But this—this was something she could do. This was what heroes did.
"Yes," she said quickly, voice hoarse but steady enough. "Yeah. I—I can do that."
Umbra nodded once.
Then he was gone.
One instant he stood in front of her, the next he was a blur tearing down the street, crashing into Lung with enough force to drive the dragon-man backward—deeper into the docks and away from the residential buildings.
Taylor stared after them for half a second as Lung tried to fight back and kept getting handled like an unruly child.
Then she remembered herself.
She turned, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted as loud as she could toward the nearest buildings.
"Everyone get out!" she yelled. "Fire—there's a fire! Evacuate now! Leave everything and go!"
Very few people heard her.
Car alarms blared nonstop. Windows rattled as the streets shook. The roar of Lung and the distant, thunderous impacts of Umbra beating him deeper into the docks drowned out almost everything else. Even when people did hear her, most didn't listen.
They thought this was TV—that the fight couldn't reach them all the way out here.
Some peeked out of windows. Others stood on balconies with phones raised, filming the glow of fire and whatever they could see of the fighting beyond.
Even as the fire Lung had set earlier began creeping outward—licking at building fronts, climbing fire escapes—people didn't move.
Taylor's chest tightened.
"Move!" she shouted again, hoarse. "Get out—now!"
Nothing.
She turned sharply toward the drone hovering nearby. Shade—she realized that was what Umbra had called it.
"Can you—" she started, then stopped.
The drone just hovered. Watching.
Umbra's orders replayed in her head, and she understood.
It's not here to save them. It's here to protect me.
"Fine," she muttered.
She reached outward.
Not to the street.
To the buildings.
And crawling things answered.
Spiders in basements. Ants in walls. Roaches under sinks. Centipedes in damp stairwells. She used all of them and more.
People screamed when the bugs came and she winced when it hit her ears. This was not heroic at all.
Even so she did it.
Insects poured into kitchens and living rooms. Out of bathroom drains and vents in writhing masses that sent residents bolting out houses and apartments into the street in blind panic.
When a few idiots stopped to film that, she redirected.
Bugs crawled up arms. Into collars. Across faces.
"GO," she yelled again as people ran past her. "Get farther down the street—away from the fire!"
A motorcycle engine roared.
Taylor spun just as Armsmaster skidded to a stop at the edge of the chaos, halberd snapping into his hand as his visor locked onto her.
"Stand down and remove your insects from the civilians" he ordered as he got off his bike. Halberd pointed at her.
Her heart jumped at being threatened by Armsmaster of all people but she forced herself to answer fast before he attacked or got it into his head that she was an enemy.
"I'm not a villain," she blurted out. "Umbra told me to evacuate civilians but they weren't listening."
His helmet tilted a fraction as if processing her words. "Umbra," he repeated flatly. "As in, Excalibur Umbra of Ten-Zero?"
"YES!" She shouted in relief while pointing sharply at Shade, the drone's optics locked solely on Armsmaster. "That's his drone. He told me to do this while he's fighting Lung."
Armsmaster went very still.
For a second, she thought he was going to call her a liar.
Then his visor angled up more as he focused on the drone.
"…I see," he said finally. "You're telling the truth."
But before Taylor could say anything else, a deep, concussive boom rolled through the street. The sound of something big giving way. She couldn't tell for sure with all the smoke and fire around but if she had to guess what the source was…
It would be a building.
Armsmaster instantly focused past her as the civilians were just beginning to realize that this wasn't a safe place to be and began retreating further back even without the threat of bugs.
He took two steps forward, then added, "Stay here and keep civilians moving outward, try and avoid threatening them if you can. The PRT and fire fighters are inbound."
Then he charged straight through the smoke and flames, vanishing into the inferno without another word. Taylor lost track of him almost immediately, her bugs couldn't get close without dying from the fire, heat, or smoke.
Taylor wanted to listen to Armsmaster, she really did, but she couldn't wait here.Not with the fire spreading.
So she kept moving—circling the edge of the fight, pushing bugs through buildings just outside the fire radius, forcing people out one block at a time while shouting and guiding with her voice as much as she was with her bugs.
By the time the rain really set in, Taylor was guiding an old couple down the sidewalk, her swarm stretched thin and watchful out of habit more than necessity.
They hadn't actually been in danger. Their building was far enough from the docks that with the rain the fire would never reach it. But panic didn't care about distance, and neither did the shaking in the woman's hands as she clutched her husband's sleeve and asked if it was really safe.
So Taylor walked them anyway to make sure they got somewhere safe.
Two blocks down, she brought them to a small deli with its lights still on and its doors propped open. A loose crowd had gathered there—neighbors, late-shift workers, a few people wrapped in borrowed jackets—waiting for this whole thing to blow over. Someone passed around towels. Someone else fiddled with the radio.
Sirens were everywhere now. Police. Fire. Ambulances. The city finally catching up to what was happening. She realized faintly that she couldn't hear any more fighting so it must have been wrapped up by now.
Hopefully Umbra was okay.
Once she was sure the couple was settled, Taylor stepped back outside and leaned against the brick wall beside the shop. Her legs felt hollow. Her arms trembled faintly, that deep exhaustion setting in now that the adrenaline was fading.
Rain slid off her costume in smooth sheets.
She blinked, then frowned slightly.
She wasn't wet.
A faint blue distortion shimmered around her—barely visible unless she focused—like a warped outline hugging close to her skin. Shade. Some kind of protective field.
Useful.
Also a problem.
She looked up at her little companion, watching all around her like a sentinel.
How am I supposed to get home with a floating tinker drone following me around?
There was no way her dad wouldn't notice. Then he would start to ask questions she couldn't answer. And she was pretty sure Umbra had at least a dozen ways of tracking that thing. She'd practically be giving up her secret identity if she walked home now.
She slid down the wall a little, resting her head back, eyes closed a little.
Lightning cracked overhead.
Then suddenly, Umbra was there.
Right in front of her.
Taylor yelped, heart jumping straight into her throat as she tried to stand and nearly fell over, bugs flaring instinctively around her. She barely managed to stop herself from making this situation even more humiliating by attacking him.
Umbra didn't react at all.
Rain rolled off black armor and gold trim without sticking and the smell of smoke still clung faintly to him.
He raised one hand.
Light bloomed above his wrist.
A holographic message hovered between them.
Good work.
Not bad for a debut.
Taylor stared at it, breathing hard.
"…Thanks," she said finally. "And—thanks for saving me. From Lung."
He nodded in acknowledgment. Then the message shifted.
Why did you engage him in the first place?
You were clearly outmatched.
"I didn't want to," she said quietly, defensively. "I knew he was way out of my league. I wasn't planning on fighting anyone like that." Her jaw tightened. "But I heard him tell his people to shoot kids."
Her hands curled into fists.
"I didn't have a phone. I couldn't call anyone. And I couldn't just stand there. So I attacked."
Rain filled the space between them.
Then the hologram changed.
You have a noble spirit, one befitting a hero.
I believe you made the right choice.
Something in her chest loosened at that, even as the praise felt undeserved.
"I don't know," she said. "It still feels like this is my fault. A city block burned. People could've died."
The next message came slower.
Lung's exponential growth did not begin until I arrived.
Your engagement alone would not have escalated him to that extent.
Taylor froze as she replayed their first meeting in her head.
How Lung had exploded in power. How he'd gone from gaining a few feet over the course of the fight with her to gaining meters in less than a minute.
"…You're right," she murmured. "He didn't start growing that fast until you showed up."
The hologram flickered.
Correct.
The blame for this incident lies solely with me.
If I had not intervened, the conflict may have been resolved with less collateral.
She looked up at him sharply.
Was he saying he should have left her to chance?
"Do you regret it?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Helping me, she didn't say.
The response came immediately.
No.
I would make the same choice again.
Another line followed.
And so should you.
The vindication hit harder than she expected.
Her shoulders sagged, eyes burning as tension bled out of her. Something warm bloomed in her chest to replace it.
He didn't regret helping her. Didn't even consider turning away because it would've been easier.
And she'd done the right thing.
Someone like him was telling her that.
The hologram changed again.
We could use someone like you among our ranks.
Her breath caught.
Under her mask, her eyes went wide. Exhaustion vanished for a heartbeat, replaced by a sharp, electric jolt of disbelief.
Is he inviting me to join?
Excalibur Umbra. One of the most talked-about capes on the planet right now. Inviting her to be a part of Ten-Zero.
Before she could choke out a response, the light shifted once more.
Do not answer now.
Tonight has been arduous. You need rest.
She swallowed the answer she wanted to give and nodded as exhaustion rushed back in.
"I—yeah. I do," she admitted. "I have… a lot of questions, though."
Save them.
There will be time.
She hesitated, wanting to push anyway. But a low rumble of thunder reminded her it was past midnight and still raining hard. Now wasn't the time for a Q&A.
Still, she allowed herself one question. "Then… how do I get in touch with you? After tonight?"
Contact Ordis on PHO.
Use the phrase: "The Tempestarii is calling."
He will know it is you.
From there, we can arrange a meeting.
Taylor's mind scrambled to lock it in.
Tempestarii. Calling. Ordis. PHO.
She almost laughed. "I really wish I had a pen and paper."
You will remember.
She nodded, trying to match his confidence in her with some of her own. "I will."
The final message appeared.
Safe travels, young hero.
Get home. I will handle the PRT for us.
Before she could say anything else, lightning flashed again—and between one moment and the next, he was gone.
Taylor stayed where she was for a long moment. Then, slowly, she waved her hand through the space he'd been occupying, just to see if he'd gone invisible.
Nothing.
Then she noticed she still wasn't getting wet.
Her eyes snapped upward.
The drone hovered above her.
"…Great," she muttered. "He forgot his drone."
It rotated slightly to look at her, as if offended.
Someone tapped her shoulder.
For the second umpteenth time that night, Taylor jumped, spinning around as bugs buzzed in agitation—
Umbra again.
He stood there holding out a plain black umbrella.
Her heart pounded before she forced it to calm.
"Thanks," she muttered as her pulse slowed and the bugs retreated. She took the umbrella and opened it immediately.
He nodded.
This time, the drone drifted over to him. Rain splattered unevenly across the umbrella as it passed. Umbra patted its head. Shade beeped and whirred before flying upward, cloaking and vanishing into the night.
He gave her one last look.
Then he disappeared again.
This time, Taylor had a bug on him before he left. Hoping the man wouldn't scare her another time if she could keep track of him. Her power barely registered movement before the bug she stuck on him was out of range.
She nearly whistled in awe, straightening under the umbrella as she walked home and thought about the future.
If I join, will I get cool armour like that?
____________________________________________
Khora hadn't needed to move far from where Lung had fallen to find her twin blades.
Lung's regeneration had done something almost helpful. The blades embedded in him had been forced out during one of his growth surges, expelled into the boiling street. When the rain came and flash-cooled the pavement, the asphalt sealed around them.
Normally, finding them could have taken precious minutes. Time he had no desire to waste.
So instead, he brought up a scanner charge—normally reserved for Helios—to locate them. Once identified, the solution had been simple.
Khora straightened her fingers and stabbed down into the street. The asphalt cracked and split as she pulled them out. In her grip, they felt right at home. Satisfied, she pushed them back into storage before turning her attention back toward Lung.
The dragon was already mostly reverted to a normal human. What remained of his transformation was rapidly collapsing, his regeneration finally slowing now that the threat had passed. If the extensive damage to his body was any indication, he would still be very limbless and weak for quite some time.
So with Lung no longer a concern, the Operator had sent Umbra after Taylor—to check on her and plant the seed for a meeting later.
Which meant that staying on the scene to meet them the PRT was his job.
Ordis was explaining to the PRT console the situation and lying about Ten-Zero just passing through. So everything should wrap up smoothly.
All's well that ends well they say but the Operator was annoyed that things had turned out this way.
Announcing Ten-Zero's arrival to the Bay like this hadn't been the plan. He also doubted PRT ENE would be pleased that he hadn't even checked in before upsetting the city's balance of power.
Hopefully they wouldn't be too upset. If they were, he could always redirect credit for Lung's capture toward them as a conciliatory gesture. A move like that would also serve his long-term goals in Brockton Bay.
If word spread that Ten-Zero members were operating here, the rest of the ABB, Coil, the Empire, and any minor parahuman organizations would likely go to ground until they left. Making it more difficult to train up any future Echo Zero members in this city using them.
Over the months, Ten-Zero's reputation had reached the point where mere presence acted as a stronger deterrent than even someone like Eidolon. After all, with the Protectorate, losing a fight didn't mean your bank accounts got drained or your dirty laundry posted to PHO for the world to see. The public apology may have done its work to calm the regular civilians, but the smart criminals knew not to test their luck. After all, who was going to shed a tear for a group like the Elite? No one.
"Operator," the Cephalon chimed suddenly, voice tight. "I have come to a worrying realization. Armsmaster, a member of the local Protectorate, is not present."
The Tenno paused, performing the mental equivalent of raising an eyebrow.
"And that matters because…?" he prompted internally.
"According to Shade's feed," Ordis continued, "he arrived on the scene around the climax of the fight and rushed past Ms. Hebert to join it. However, he never engaged you in battle, and none of the—TRASH—suboptimal local surveillance equipment indicates that he exited the area. Ordis would have assumed he was performing search and rescue, but PRT communication channels are currently requesting that he check in."
"That's bad," the Tenno murmured.
If a hero had been seriously injured—or worse—because he'd been prioritizing Lung's survival, that was unacceptable. It didn't matter to the him if that was the job they signed up for.
"Yes, Operator. It is," Ordis replied. "Especially since Umbra may be inadvertently responsible."
He didn't need Ordis to elaborate. Umbra's howl had a wide area of effect. Even if Armsmaster had been a full block away, it could have hit him.
Sirens were growing louder.
"Which direction did he approach from?"
"Up this very street, Operator."
Khora didn't wait for him to finish. Her signature whip was already in hand, lashing out to connect with the living metal wrapped tight around Lung's inert body. Once secured, she took off at a sprint, dragging the ABB leader behind her like a sack of rocks.
The Operator didn't care how many bumps Lung suffered. Someone worth a damn might be dying.
Khora found Armsmaster seconds later.
He was face-down in the street, closer to the fight than expected. His armor sparked intermittently despite showing no visible structural damage—clear signs that Umbra's ability was still interfering with its systems.
She skidded to a stop beside him and dropped into a crouch. Trying to roll him over proved futile; the armor was locked solid, its joints seized as though rigor mortis had set in. Forcing them would risk destroying the suit's joints entirely and injuring him.
So Khora simply lifted him and laid him on his back.
The lower half of his face bore superficial burns—likely from lying against superheated asphalt before the rain cooled it—but nothing life-threatening. His eyes were the real concern. She couldn't see through the visor, but the likelihood of severe damage was high. Smoke inhalation only compounded the risk.
Khora leaned closer, rain running down her frame as she knelt. Green light gathered in her raised palm, thickening into a swirling, cloudy mist that spilled downward. It flowed over Armsmaster's armor, seeping into vents and joints, into his nostrils and mouth. It purged smoke from his lungs, repaired scorched tissue, stabilized oxygen saturation, and even reversed the damage Umbra's howl had caused the armor—forcing locked systems to unlock one by one.
But as this was happening, something else registered at the far edge of Khora's vision.
He didn't turn her head. He didn't need to.
Warframe perception extended far beyond human limits.
On a nearby rooftop—one that had escaped the worst of the fires—something large was moving.
Several somethings.
At first they were difficult to make out through rain and smoke, but the closer they crept toward the edge of the building, the clearer they became. Three creatures, each roughly the size of a van, crouched low in a parody of stealth. Their forms were wrong—vaguely reptilian, vaguely feline, but fully neither. Where skin, scales, or fur should have been, there were tangles of exposed muscle and bone, anatomy twisted into something functional but deeply unsettling.
For a heartbeat, he thought it was the Infestation.
Then he dismissed the idea.
This wasn't the Origin System.
Chances were they were parahuman creations, and the figures riding atop the beasts all but confirmed it. Their silhouettes were barely visible through the darkness, rain, and smoke, making it hard to tell just how many there were.
Lightning cracked overhead, and for a single instant the rooftop was lit stark white.
That single flash allowed him to see them clearly—if only for a moment.
A blonde girl wearing a domino mask, staring keenly in his direction.
A figure in a motorcycle helmet with a skull motif, an unnatural darkness flowing around him like a living shadow.
Another girl, broader in the shoulders, auburn hair visible beneath a dog mask. Likely the parahuman responsible for the mounts.
A fourth presence lingered further back, indistinct even in the flash, but he caught the outline of a long object—some sort of staff—held at the ready.
Then darkness reclaimed the rooftop.
Khora continued healing Armsmaster, posture steady, attention seemingly fixed on the task at hand. If they were content to watch while she worked, she would let them.
"Ordis," the Operator said over internal comms. "Can you identify them?"
There was a brief pause.
"Yes, Operator," Ordis replied. "They visually match a relatively unknown group of hit-and-run teenage thieves. Designation: the Undersiders."
"Thanks, bud," he acknowledged.
If no further information was forthcoming, then they really were obscure. It was a shame they were villains. If they weren't, he might have flagged them for recruitment next.
Then again, perhaps he shouldn't dismiss them so casually. For all their vaunted honor, Tenno were not above theft—or even killing for profit. Even Maroo had been nothing more than a thief before she was folded into the Tenno cause.
But that was neither here nor there.
Wanted villains were right in front of him, and as a partner of the PRT, their enemies were his enemies. He would have to bring them in.
Besides, drawing further scrutiny from the PRT by attempting to recruit from the villain population would only impede his true goal. Better to capture them—both to soothe the PRT after operating in their stomping grounds and to keep Ten-Zero's presence here quiet a little longer.
Khora's hand dropped to her side. The green mist stopped flowing. Armsmaster was fully healed now, the damage to his suit repaired. He remained unconscious, but not for long.
Before he woke, she would Ensnare the entire group with her Whipclaw before they could react—and kill the beasts.
Khora slightly turned to—
"BITCH, GET US OUT OF HERE!"
The feminine shout tore through the rain, sharp with panic.
The beasts scrambled to turn as black smoke spilled out from the midst of the group, flooding over the rooftop and then pouring down into the street below. Not knowing what it could do, Khora chose caution. She tightened her grip on her Whipclaw, grabbed Armsmaster, threw him over her shoulder, and leapt clear of it, bounding down the street in a single powerful motion.
Behind her, Lung crashed unceremoniously into the pavement with a crack of bone—ignored like it was no more than the wind.
Damn.
It seemed these petty thieves were better than he'd thought. Or they'd simply gotten lucky tonight. Their head start put him in a difficult position. With Armsmaster still down, he couldn't just dump Lung on him and give chase. And with no Liset in the sky tonight, Ordis couldn't track them remotely. Umbra was occupied, and even if he abandoned his current task to search, his speed wouldn't let him cover every possible escape route.
This was their perfect getaway.
Their win.
If he wasn't a sore loser.
A deep, feline purr manifested beside Khora. Orokin gold armor and bioengineered, scale-like hide brushed lovingly against her leg. The Operator—and what little remained of the woman Khora had once been—returned the sensation of affection through their link as she looked down.
Her affection for the creature only increased as she gazed on it.
Venari, her eternal companion.
As much as Khora had wanted to let her out earlier to fight side by side again, it had been too risky. If the PRT saw—or if Lung reported it—they'd know, or at least strongly suspect, that Ten-Zero was engaging in "bio-tinkering."
But now, with Lung and Armsmaster unconscious and the black smoke cloaking the street, this was the perfect moment to let her stretch her legs.
Without words, Khora gave Venari her mission.
Avoid detection while tracking the Undersiders to their base.
If discovered—flee.
Do not engage.
The armored kavat stretched like a common housecat rather than a bioengineered machine of war, then straightened. She meowed softly at her master before dashing forward and up the building. The rain did nothing to hinder her tracking ability thanks to her modification, so she should track the group to wherever they went without issue.
Lightning flashed again as her armored tail vanished from sight—
—and Armsmaster began to stir.