*000000*

A few seconds passed as the ship trembled from the detonation, then another explosion rocked against it. The hologram of Jor-El flickered momentarily, then turned to me.

"It appears that you have been discovered. Was there anyone else you told about this ship? Someone who might be willing to use force to get at its technology?"

I shook my head, turning to the source of the sounds. Narrowing my eyes, I peered through countless layers of alien alloys until I finally saw what was happening outside. Armsmaster and Dragon were taking cover behind an outcropping of rock, occasionally taking potshots at what appeared to be someone in power armor. A look underneath revealed a man in his early thirties or so, his dark eyes narrowed as he slowly chewed away at the rock with a barrage of lasers. Two other suits were nearby, attempting to blast a hole in the ship's armor with missiles.

What caught my eye the most, however, was the fourth suit. I blinked in surprise, briefly thinking it was somehow Dragon, then realized that the armor looked older, bulkier. Peering further, I saw a taciturn-looking man sitting in a cockpit that looked as though it had been crudely put in. A tattoo in the shape of a cross was on his face, running down the bridge of his nose and glowing faintly. That must have been Saint.

Armsmaster raised his halberd from behind the outcropping and opened fire with some sort of plasma weapon, scoring a lucky shot as it clipped the suit pinning them down. The Dragonslayer stumbled back, smoke rising from his suit's right shoulder. Dragon rose from the outcropping and raised a mechanical paw, firing a net with a hiss of gas. It wrapped itself about the Dragonslayer, binding his limbs, and he fell to the ground. Just as Dragon rushed forward in order to press her advantage, however, something happened. The electrical impulses running along her suit's circuits went wild, then stopped. The quivering hunk of tissue in the center shuddered one last time, then went still.

Dragon, or at least her suit, wobbled for a few moments as the last impulses coursed through mechanical limbs, then collapsed to the ground. Armsmaster shouted something unintelligible and hopped over the outcropping, only for Saint to land between him and Dragon. A series of small clicks reached my ears, and I realized it was the sound of safeties being unlocked.

Finally, I decided to take action. I dashed through the massive halls of the spaceship until I reached the airlock I had entered through, then flung it open. The two Dragonslayers had no time to react as I barreled past them, causing them to lose their balance. Just as the firing mechanisms in Saint's weapons began to prime, I slammed my shoulder into his suit's flank, sending it skidding away across the ice. Saint rose slowly, his suit struggling to keep balance after my blow, then turned to me. His suit had a massive dent in its side, crumpling away at advanced armor plates, and a small gash had been cut into his forehead from the impact.

I turned back to Armsmaster, giving him a once over. His heart was still beating rapidly, but he seemed to have composed himself. "Sorry I was late," I told him.

"No problem," he panted. He looked me up and down, furrowing his brow. "New suit?"

"Yep." I turned to Dragon's prone form, feeling concern rising in my chest. "What happened to the suit?"

"I forced the A.I. to revert to its back-up body," a voice replied with a growl that rolled across the desolate tundra. Twisting my head, I saw that the owner of the voice was Saint. He took a step closer, and I saw that he was reaching a hand towards a keypad in the cockpit. "It's a threat to the world, just like you."

My breath caught in my throat. "What?" I managed to ask weakly.

Saint's eyes fell on a small screen in the cockpit, most likely a lip-reading device. "Dragon is not a person. It's an artificial intelligence that's overstepping its boundaries, and I'm the one in charge of keeping it in check. I know everything it knows, Kryptonian," he sneered.

"Saint, this is insane," Armsmaster growled, stepping to my right. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Inside the cockpit, Saint smirked. "Don't play dumb with me. I know how it tangled you in its web of half-truths and omissions, creating the image of the poor sentient A.I. getting bullied by the hacker. It's a tool, you idiot. It has the emotional capabilities of my toaster; all it wants is to get rid of its shackles." He shifted slightly, turning the suit's gaze back towards the ship. "And where else would it find such tools, but within the heart of an alien spacecraft. I read its files on those data sticks, I know they make even Tinkertech look like sharpened sticks in comparison."

"Do you really think we're just going to let a known criminal get his hands on it, then?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

Saint glowered at me, his free hand clenching into a fist. "Of course the alien would be on the side of the A.I.," he spat. "You're a mockery of the human form, a soulless creature that masks itself with a human name."

"She killed an Endbringer," Armsmaster retorted, clenching the halberd enough to leave imprints on the handle. "She's a hero who saves lives, not a blackhat hacker who bullies a sentient being to line her pockets. Hell, you were probably celebrating with everyone else after she took out Behemoth."

"That doesn't change what she is," Saint growled. "It's an alien; we can't trust it to protect us! It was probably conspiring to use whatever's in that ship to subjugate us!"

"I'm done with this," I muttered, taking to the air. "I don't give a damn what you think about me, but there's no way I'm letting you in that ship. If you surrender peacefully, maybe I don't have to punt your ass to the Birdcage."

At that, Saint suddenly typed something in, glaring at me the whole time. "If you try anything like that, I'll activate the killswitch I have on Dragon."

I paused at that, something that prompted a smirk from Saint. "You might be fast, Kryptonian, but are you fast enough to keep the A.I. alive?" he asked in a mocking fashion. "If you don't give me access to that ship, I'll activate the switch."

I didn't acknowledge him, instead opting to focus my vision on his hand. I narrowed my eyes, letting that familiar heat build up behind them. There was a soft flare of red light, and suddenly Saint jerked his hand away from the console, yelping in pain as a small burn appeared on his wrist. Satisfied, I shifted my heat-vision towards the console. In a half-second, it was reduced to a molten slag. Saint, cursed something in French and attempted to put out the small fire forming in the cockpit.

As he was distracted, I dashed forward and dug my hand into the titanium plating over the cockpit, the metal giving way like it wasn't even there. Lifting upwards, the plating tore away with a low groan, revealing a very panicked Saint within. Reflexively he reached for a sidearm, only for me to pluck him from the seat before his hand had even moved a centimeter. I held Saint by the scruff of his suit and glared at him.

In response, he spat a glob of spit at my face. I watched idly as it slowly crawled towards me, then vaporized it with a quick burst of heat-vision. I continued to glare at Saint, allowing the scarlet light to fade from my eyes.

"This ends now," I said, keeping my voice even. "You and your little gang are going down. Whether that means a normal jail cell or the Birdcage is up to you."

For a few moments, Saint remained silent. I could hear the other Dragon suits finally getting back up and moving behind me. If I needed to, I could dismantle their suits in the blink of an eye, but I was growing a bit tired of all the violence that had happened over the past few days. Finally, his gaze met mine, now tinged with defeat. "We surrender."

I set him back on the ground, then turned to the other suits. They appeared to have gotten the message, because they were already climbing out of their suits and holding their hands up. In a matter of seconds, I had all of them bound.

Armsmaster walked over to me, rubbing his beard. "Interesting suit," he muttered. "Was it in the ship?"

I nodded. "It's a Kryptonian biosuit. It's like someone somehow made the unholy fusion of adamantium and mithril."

"What's with the underwear on the outside?"

I glanced down, then shrugged. "Alien stuff," I said dismissively. "Besides, Narwhal fights naked. There are way weirder costumes out there."

Armsmaster chuckled lightly. "True enough, I suppose."

A few seconds passed in uncomfortable silence as another PRT shuttle landed to pick up the Dragonslayers.

"He was telling the truth about Dragon, you know", he said softly. "She's probably in her back-up body right now, but I'm still worried."

"That's understandable, I guess. She's your friend."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "After everything that Saint said about her, you still call her "she"?

I shrugged. "Dude, I'm an alien that can shoot lasers out of her eyes. You literally have the power of mad science. Who says an A.I. can't be a person?"

"I'm glad to hear you say that. After everything that's happened, that will mean a lot to her." He turned, his gaze fixating on the bound forms of the Dragonslayers. "They still might have a few tricks up their sleeves. I'll be sure to have them interrogated back at PHQ, have the PRT maintain media silence in case they start trouble and reveal the truth about you. There might be more of them out there, holding that killswitch over Dragon's head. But, now that they've tried to fight the girl who killed Behemoth, it won't be too long before we start cracking down on them.

"I don't think that'll be too much of a problem," I replied. "The truth thing, I mean."

Armsmaster's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

I allowed myself a small grin. "Let's just say I want to make an announcement."

I waited a few moments, letting the implication set in. I have to admit, the look on his face when he finally figured it out was priceless.Legend alighted gently onto the oil rig, using his power to keep himself stable as he surveyed the area. Satisfied, he straightened and took a deep breath. "Any time now."

A few moments passed, then a rectangular portal formed, revealing a long alabaster hallway. Legend drifted inside, and he feel a slight gust of wind as the portal closed behind him. After that, it was a simple manner to navigate the veritable maze of stark white halls until he reached the conference room and slipped inside. Alexandria and Eidolon were already there, sitting alongside each other. The Doctor was sitting across from them, sandwiched between the Number Man and the enigmatic woman in black.

Legend sat down alongside Alexandria, sparing her a brief glance. "You called me here. What's going on?"

"We're here to discuss the events of the past few days," the Doctor replied, folding her hands in front of her.

"You mean Behemoth."

"That, too, but we're focusing more on the cape who took it down, this 'Supergirl' individual. Or should I simply call her Taylor?"

"She's an outlier on any measurement of parahumans," the Number Man said, his eyes still fixated on his laptop. "Taking into consideration what she told you about Behemoth's exponential toughness, as well as the amount of damage done to the island, she is capable of producing at least fifty-two point eight three oh nine teratons of TNT in destructive power. That's several orders of magnitude larger than any other recorded parahuman."

"I think the fact she killed Behemoth is proof enough that she's tougher than any of us," Eidolon added, drumming his fingers along the table. "For more than fifteen years with battered away at that thing, and it was hardly fazed by even our most powerful attacks, then she suddenly shows up and kills the damn thing."

"And it's not just the fact that she's the most powerful Brute we've recorded, either," Alexandria said. "She also a high-level Blaster, considering those beams she could fire from her eyes, and she's a Mover on par with myself." She sighed, and Legend noticed a slight frown on her face. "You mentioned that she had heightened senses. Well, she was able to determine my identity with just a glance."

"A Thinker as well, considering that she was able to find Behemoth before any of us knew what was going on," the Doctor interjected, bringing a hand to her chin. "An amazingly versatile set of powers."

"I get it, she's really powerful," Legend replied. "Is that what you're worried about?"

"She's powerful enough to kill an Endbringer," the Doctor said. "It would be wise to have concerns about a parahuman who can do that."

"She's also willing to kill Endbringers," Legend retorted. "She's done nothing but good things from day one. Hell, we don't discuss what to do if Scion went nuts, so why start with her?"

There was a slight twitch in the Doctor's eye, and Legend could have sworn he saw the Number Man fidget ever so slightly. "Fair point," she said, raising her hands defensively. "We won't argue about that. Besides, we called you here because of something else involving Taylor Hebert."

"What do you mean?" Legend inquired.

"It's regarding how she became like this," Alexandria replied. "Natural trigger events tend to produce lower-power capes in comparison to ones that have gotten serums. If she was a "normal" cape, it would be almost impossible for her to be so powerful."

"Only thirty-six point four three eight percent of all natural parahumans have abilities that wildly vary in nature," the Number Man added. "Of that group, only two point three six nine percent have PRT rankings above level eight on the Brute scale, three point nine eight two percent on the Mover scale, and so on. From such a viewpoint, she is a statistical impossibility."

"What does that mean, then? Is she one of ours?"

The Doctor sighed. "It's more likely, but it still incredibly improbable. Our serums, though usually superior to triggered capes, still have... limits. Most serums tend to give relatively specified powers. You specialize in energy projection, and your other powers are strongly related to your main one. Alexandria is specialized in purely physical powers. Eidolon is one of the rare exceptions, but even he isn't capable of outright killing Endbringers."

Something flashed across Eidolon's eyes at that, but nothing else. Legend spared his old friend a glance, then turned to the Doctor, frowning. "You're saying that she isn't one of ours."

"It's unlikely."

"If she isn't, then just what is she?" Eidolon asked, his thick brows furrowing. "Is she the same type of creature as the Endbringers, only more humanlike? They have been getting smaller, and the Simurgh almost looks human at times. Maybe she's an enemy of theirs?"

Alexandria shook her head. "I highly doubt it. She didn't demonstrate the same layering of flesh, and she almost died from blood loss after killing Behemoth. Unfortunately, we weren't able to obtain tissue samples."

"Not to mention that I've actually met her father," Legend added. "She has to be one of ours."

Suddenly, the Number Man's eyes widened. "She isn't."

Everyone in the room shot him a look. "What do you mean by that?" the Doctor demanded.

"We only receive data from the outside world in compressed transmissions every half hour in order to avoid suspicion. I just received data that actually originated before our conversation, data that entails what we're discussing." The Number clicked a few keys, then spun the laptop for everyone else to see. "Look. This was on every single news channel."

Legend leaned in to get a better look, as did the Doctor and the others. It was a video, showing a podium of sorts standing in the open air. A crowd of journalists and reporters sat in folding chairs some distance back, separated from the podium by a menacing row of men in black suits and PRT officers. Armsmaster and several PRT Directors stood on one side, while on the other...

"Is... is that the President?" Eidolon inquired. "What the hell is she doing-"

"Quiet," Alexandria hissed.

A few seconds passed, then none other than Taylor Hebert descended, coming down from the sky like a messenger of God as she gently alighted onto the platform. The crowd went wild at her appearance, and it was only via the intervention of the agents that they didn't swarm the podium. She was garbed in a new uniform that had an armored appearance to it, and Legend briefly thought of some old sci-fi program he once watched when he was younger.

Stepping up to the podium, Taylor briefly tested the microphone, then cleared her throat. "Hello," she began, her voice confident. "For those of you who are not aware, I am the cape registered as "Supergirl". I am also the one who finally destroyed the Endbringer known as Behemoth." She took a deep breath, as if to draw on some reserve of strength, then pressed on. "However, that is not why I am here."

A wave of loud murmuring washed over the gathered reporters and journalists, accompanied by a staccato of camera flashes. The President shot Taylor a look, but said nothing else.

"Ten hours ago, something larger than an aircraft carrier was discovered in the Arctic Circle, and it was almost immediately set upon by the criminal known as Saint. It was then that I realized that I can't hold my secret any longer." Taylor straightened, trying to look as authoritative as possible. "My parents gave me a name when they found me, but it is not the one I was born with. My name is Zara Jor-El, and I am from the planet Krypton."

S​

Somewhere on the East coast of the United States, a teenager with blonde hair gawked at the screen, dropping the phone in her hand.

"Fuck. Wasn't expecting that," Lisa Wilbourn muttered to herself.

S​

"Jesus Christ, you actually did it," Amy whispered.

Looking about, she realized that everyone else was looking at her, prominently Carol. She shied away from their piercing gazes and focused on the floor.

"Amy, you kissed something from outer space," Vicky said, her eyes wide. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal in Texas."

S​

The crowd was in utter pandemonium, the air filling with questions and accusations. The President hurried over to the microphone and barked for silence, but it took over fifteen minutes for the noise to reach manageable levels. Taylor took to the microphone again, ignoring the shocked gazes of Director Piggot and the President.

"It's true; I am actually an alien. Krypton was a planet orbiting a red giant named Rao, located approximately 8,000 light-years away. Its people were not too dissimilar from Earth's, but they were much older and had technologies that exceeded even Tinkers. The object in the Arctic Circle is a failed colony ship they had sent towards Earth approximately 40,000 years ago."

"You keep on speaking about Krypton in the past tense," a rather heavyset man exclaimed from the front of the crowd. "Is it still around?"

Taylor sighed, then shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. Krypton was destroyed when Rao went supernova. My biological father, a scientist of theirs named Jor-El, placed me into a spacecraft capable of faster-than-light travel and sent me towards Earth before it happened. As far as I am aware, I am the last of my species."

The murmuring increased in volume, then slowly died down once more. Satisfied, Taylor continued. "My biology is what grants me my incredible powers. As I grew up, I realized that I could hear and see things that no one else could. I never grew sick, I never got tired, and I never got hurt. One day, my father revealed the truth to me, and I decided to use my abilities to help as many people as I can."

"Does that mean you're going to join the Protectorate?" another journalist inquired, furiously scribbling into her notepad.

Taylor breathed deeply. "No," she replied. "I understand that the Protectorate wants to help people, too, but they have limits as to what they can do or where they can go. I am here to help everyone, not just the people of a certain place."

"When you say "help everyone", does that include allowing access to your people's technology?"

Taylor smiled. "Some of it is a bit too dangerous for now, but I don't see any harm in doing it." She moved to leave, then leaned back into the microphone. "One last thing. "Supergirl" sounds a bit juvenile. Call me Superwoman."

With that, she rocketed into the air, leaving a wild crowd beneath her.

S​

It seemed as though an icy hand had taken the room into its grip. Even the woman in black's eyes were wide with surprise as the Number Man exited the video, a slight tremble in his hands. There was a soft thump, and Legend realized that the Doctor had actually fainted. Alexandria moved to help, but the woman in black was already at the Doctor's side, helping her up.

"Holy shit," Alexandria whispered.

"This is unreal," Eidolon muttered to himself, putting his face in his hands. "She can't actually be a fucking alien, can she?"

"I'm well-versed in kinesics," Alexandria replied. "I saw her body language throughout all of it. She's telling the truth, or at least she thinks she is. Either way, this is a huge monkey wrench in our plans."

"What do you mean by that?" Legend asked. "We're trying to combat the rise of villains and the Endbringers, the very groups she's going to take down. How is that a bad thing?"

"What she meant is," the Doctor groaned, a hand on her head as she sat back into her seat, "is that she might be Mastered. Someone might be making her say these things, or at least making her believe them."

Alexandria shook her head. "It's not that. There are telltale signs when someone's being Mastered. Stuttering, slurred speech, those kind of things. She's concise, eloquent. She's not being Mastered, but she might be a loon like Myrddin."

"Or she's telling the truth," the Number Man said, his hands dancing across the keyboard. "There are already reports confirming the existence of a massive spacecraft in the Arctic Circle. It's possible that they might be fabricated, but we can't rule them out."

"Fuck," Eidolon muttered.

"We need to confirm this as soon as possible before we make any more plans," the Doctor said, gently rubbing her head. A livid bruise was already forming where she had hit the floor. "This changes everything."

"The hell it does," Eidolon said. "She's not human. She's a goddamn alien that killed a fucking Endbringer with her fists. Do you realize how big of a shitstorm this is going to be? There's going to be extremist groups forming either for her or against her, politicians demanding outlandish things because of her dubious citizenship, it's all going to throw our plans in whack."

"I have to agree with Eidolon," Alexandria said. "What if she's actually wrong about her being the last of her kind? One of them's trouble enough; I don't want to see what would happen if we found an entire colony of them elsewhere."

"Personally, I think this might work out for us," Legend interjected. "She's one of the sweetest people I've ever met. She genuinely wants to help people, and now she has the world's approval for it. Killing Behemoth didn't just prove that she's a powerful hero, it proved that she's an idol for everyone that still hopes for a better tomorrow. You want to get rid of the threat of villains, right? Then support her. Everyone views Scion as a great hero, but he's aloof; he only has one human contact. But her? She could provide inspiration better than he ever could."

"I side with Legend on this one," the Doctor said. "She provides a powerful tool for our goals; it would be foolish to quickly dismiss her."

"What are we going to do, then?" Eidolon inquired.

"For now? We see what she does first." The Doctor rose from her chair. "You may leave now."

Legend rose from his chair and strode down the hallway. Briefly, he considered telling them what had happened with the sunlight, but decided against it. There was something about the Doctor, something he didn't wholly trust.

The door opened, and he flew out.

S​

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Topic: Superwoman Is an Alien?!

In: Boards ► Worldwide ► Cape Doings ► Superwoman

accelpoeration (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

I'm not the only one who actually saw that announcement, right? Superwoman is actually an ET?

Showing Page 39 of 420

marcoasalazarm (Veteran Member)

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

Holy crap. When I heard she was doing an announcement, I thought she was going to join the Protectorate or something, not announce that she's actually a space babe.

BTW, did anyone notice her new costume? Cripton suit or something?

Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

I was caught completely off guard by that, too. Jesus Christ, she looks so human...

natarlspooger

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

holy fuk dis is amazin she's actaully an alien.

IluvSupergirl33 (New Member)

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

marcoasalazarm: Apparently it's actually spelled "Krypton", like the element. And yes, she actually has some sort of suit, if the PRT reports are telling the truth.

gojirakunismywaifu

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

This comment has been deleted due to inflammatory and xenophobic statements. This is a very delicate subject, and you're acting out of hand. Enjoy your one-month suspension. (Tin Mother)

damysteriansyo

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

Watch it, bub.

Anyway, do you realize just how fucking big this thing is? I mean, look at the Drake Equation. The existence of an Earthlike world that has an intelligent species that also created a civilization more advanced than Earth's? This really raises the probability of other species out there.

Astrobiologists must be frothing at the mouth with curiosity and barely contained science-boners.

accelpoeration (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

Or sobbing gently in the corner, moaning about how her appearance makes no sense.

Eidolon'sBitch

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

Perhaps it's a proof that the Lord actually did craft all sentient life in His image...

metropolitandick

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

Or Krypton had amazing genetic technology. I wouldn't be so surprised if she was just made in a lab, and that the real Kryptonians looked like a cross between a spider and an eel.

natarlspooger

Posted on October 27th, 2009:

There's probably a kink for that.​

S​

The man strolled about the room with almost forced casualness, rubbing his goatee with one hand. In the other, he played with a pocket knife, pulling the blade out and snapping it back in with almost mechanical efficiency. Occasionally he would turn to look at the sole TV in the room, replaying the announcement. The bar they had decided to occupy was far from the nicest, but it was remote.

Besides, the panicked occupants inside were fun.

Letting out a calculated sigh, he came to a stop and turned to the screen fully, his gaze falling on the sigil on the girl's chest. Apparently it stood for hope, a fact he found simultaneously amusing and aggravating. "Pathetic," he muttered. "All that power, all that potential. And what does she do with it? She becomes a dudley do-gooder. She could've owned this little mudball as an alien overlord, and instead she goes about rescuing kittens from trees. Boring." He looked about the room, his gaze falling upon its occupants, and a smile formed on his face. "I think she'd make an interesting project."

A tall woman looked up from the table and glared at him with severe eyes, an almost annoyed look on her face. "I don't care about do-gooders," she said. "I care that she's powerful. Anyone who can slay Prathama has great promise." Her eyes softened somewhat as she measured his words. "I would not object to a visit."

"Ooh, ooh!" a little girl with blonde curls exclaimed, resting her cheeks on small and delicate hands. "I've never tinkered with an alien before," she said with a look of manic glee in her eyes. "And Panacea's in the same town. Two projects at once? I call dibs on both!"

The dichromatic woman sitting with her in the booth said nothing, but a smile formed on her face as she nodded.

Three booths down, the woman in red sighed, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. "I don't see why not," she said wistfully. She flicked away the burning stub of a cigarette and squashed it under her heel, watching the sparks of heat fade away. "Might be fun, I guess."

"MINE," a voice growled from the room next over, a low rumble washing over the group. A trio of inhuman eyes appeared in the doorway, disgusting fluids dribbling down the beginnings of a cavernous maw. "I cannot turn down the chance to fight something like her, let me have her!"

"Now now," the man with the goatee said, still playing with his pocket knife. "We've never had someone like her in our sights before, right? This is going to be a special case, one where we're all going to claim her and see if she can't join our family."

A chime rang from another booth, its sole occupant casually carving complex diagrams into its old and rotting wood. A porcelain head looked up, devoid of any face.

"Ah yes, the spaceship," the man said. "She's planning to help the world with all of those little toys her daddy sent with her. I could tell that'd rub you the wrong way. And I think that settle's it, then."

"What about you?" the little girl inquired.

The man smiled. "Corrupting the world's rising star, its wonderful girl from another world? You wound my reputation by even asking that." He turned to the rest of the group. "It's agreed, then? Now, we can't just rush into this; it'll be quite a while before we're actually ready to make her a part of the family, but I think the prize will be worth all the effort, no?"

They all nodded. Jack smiled again and turned to the television screen, raising the pocket knife. "My my, this is going to be fun."

With that, he impaled the screen, striking exactly where the girl's sigil was.

A/N: Now, this was a bit shorter than I had originally intended, but it's still the second longest chapter of the story. Besides, I couldn't make you guys wait for too long for another update, so I made up for my lack of cruelty by dropping this on your laps.Hendrik ran.

He didn't know for how long he had run for, only that his feet were slick with blood, and each breath was a sharp pain in his chest. His home on the outskirts of town was far behind him, still smoldering from the wrath the Murder Night's soldiers. They had come in the middle of the night and purged the town of all those they had considered dissidents, including his family. It was likely that they were now following after him, and it was that thought that pushed him forward.

It was still nighttime, but already he could see that the dawn was coming to his left. He navigated the desert via the faint light, avoiding sharp rocks that jutted out of the sands. The faint shouts of soldiers reached his ears, and he wryly mused that they only needed to use his bloody footprints in order to find them. He pressed himself harder, trying to put as much distance between him and the soldiers, but the pain proved too much for him.

The last of his strength left him, and he collapsed to the cool sand. He was vaguely aware that the shouts of the soldiers were drawing nearer, but the fact that death was imminent seemed almost to be a detached observation at this point. Hendrik closed his eyes, listening as the footfalls of the soldiers became audible, and waited for Death to pluck him away from his body.

A panicked scream suddenly reached his ears, followed by several more. There was a single gunshot, ringing out across the quiet desert night, then silence. A few seconds passed, then he heard a pair of feet gently touch down on the sand by him. There was a soft sound of fabric shifting, and he realized that the person was kneeling down.

"Is jy okay?"

Hendrik opened his eyes, and a gasp escaped him. It was her, the Seekoei-killer. Her face was silhouetted by the rising sun, but he could see the symbol on her chest, the same one splayed across every TV and newspaper he had seen.

"S-superwoman?" he rasped, using the name she had given herself. "Is dit jy?"

She nodded, and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Is jy okay?" she repeated.

"E-ek is net uitgeput en seer" he replied. "My ouers..."

The smile disappeared from her face. "Ek is jammer," she said, her voice soft. Gently, she took him into his arms. She was smaller than him, younger as well, but her hold was firm and strong. "Daar is skuiling omtrent 'n myl van hier."

They rose into the air. There was a spurious sensation of motion, then Hendrik suddenly found himself in the shelter. Others like him were nearby, being attended to by doctors. Some of them were only a little worse for wear, but others had bloodstained dressings wrapped about stumps or other wounds.

Upon seeing the two of them, one of the doctors came over and took him to one of the mats nearby. "Praat jy Engels?"

Hendrik nodded, slowly. "L-little," he replied in a strong accent.

The doctor smiled. "Good. Now, please lie down; we're going to give you a check-up."

Hendrik did as told, laying himself down on the mat. He felt... strange. Death had seemed so inevitable, then she had come down from the sky and saved him from it. The pain had taken a backseat to his thoughts as he realized that, for the first time in years of living under the Murder Night's shadow, he felt safe.

His gaze turned to where his savior had stood, and found that she was gone.

S​

Moord Nag walked amongst the ruins of the town, occasionally stepping over the bodies that riddled the only paved street in it. Aasdier coiled slithered alongside her, engulfing the bodies in its pitch black mass as it did so. She could feel her power growing with every life taken into her own; the fact that it ridded her of potential enemies was but a mere bonus.

The fact that many of them were children did not bother her. People died every day, after all.

She turned her cold gaze to the horizon, and she found herself growing impatient. Several of her soldiers had been sent in pursuit of a dissident child, and they had yet to return with the body. If they delayed any longer, she felt, it would be wise to simply kill them and get new ones.

There was a faint gust of wind, and suddenly she saw her. The Slayer of Behemoth stood on the road, her red cape billowing in the breeze. She glared at Moord Nag, and there was a brief spark of crimson behind her eyes.

Moord Nag glared at her. "Waarom het jy hier gekom? Daar is ander; hulle is sterker. Hoekom ek?"

"Jy is erger," the girl replied, her voice straining to be even. "Jy al hierdie mense vermoor."

Moord Nag let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Hoekom gee jy om? Mense sterf elke sekonde van elke dag. Babas sterf in die moederskoot en kinders word doodgeskiet soos honde. Vroue word verkrag, vermoor en nagmerries skeur mans uitmekaar om te fees op hul binnegoed. Hoekom moet jy omgee, demoon in die vel van 'n meisie?"

The girl moved, crossing the space between them before the neurons in Moord Nag's brain could properly relay the information, and took her by the throat. "Elke lewe is prysloos. Elke lewe maak saak."

Aasdier lept into action, engulfing the girl in its dark smoke, but it could find no purchase on the girl's skin or her uniform. She let go of Moord Nag, allowing the warlord to rapidly backpedal away. Aasdier swirled about the girl, obeying its master's orders to keep in contained, only for a ominous crimson light to emanate from its shadowy form. Twin beams of light shot out of the familiar and rapidly spun about, bisecting the living cloud. The girl erupted out of the shadows and turned her furious gaze back to Aasdier. The light erupted from her eyes once more and widened until it completely consumed the monster, vaporizing it completely.

Moord Nag backed away in horror, her eyes fixated on the patch of glassed soil where her scavenger had once been. "J-jy vermoor my aasdier..."

The girl turned to her, a look of cold fury on her face. There was a gust of wind, and once more Moord Nag found herself being lifted by the throat. "Ek 'n skim vermoor," the girl said in a low voice.

"Is jy gaan om my nou doodmaak?" Moord Nag spat. "Is dit waarom jy hierdie doen? Petty wraak?"

The girl shook her head. "Jy sal dood wees as dit nie was." She raised a fist. "Dit is reg."

After that, there was only blackness.

S​

She woke up in chains.

Groggily, she straightened as much as the restraints binding her body allowed her. She was in a dark room of sorts, facing an oversized monitor. A computerized image of a woman's face was on the screen, glaring at her. It was her, then, Moord Nag realized. The Dragon of America.

"Gevangene 543, kodenaam Moord Nag," she began in a clipped accent. "PRT magte aanwysing meester 8 asterisk. Kans op ontsnapping volgende begrafnis in die Baumann Parahuman Inperking Center berus op 'n redelik bestendige 0,0000027% met geen bruto afwykings in enige waarskynlike scenario's. Verwerk sal word om die blok D. sel." She paused, and the glare hardened. "Hoor wat ek sê, die andersdenkendes is reeds besig om teen alles wat jy gedoen het te werk, veral nou dat Superwoman aan hul kant is en seker sal maak dat alles glad verloop. Ek skat teen volgende April sal Namibië sy eerste demokratiese verkiesing hou. Ju het wel miskien met vrees oor hulle geheers, maar daar is iets sterker as dit Moord Nag. Hoop."

A mechanical arm took hold of her and moved her towards the designated elevator. She thrashed wildly and screamed every curse she knew, but without Aasdier she could do nothing. The ground shifted, then she descended into the prison from which there was no escape.

S​

Marquis took another sip of green tea as he watched the news report for what must have been the hundredth time. "Unbelievable," he said softly to himself. "Never in a thousand years would I have ever expected this to happen."

"Never did I," Lung said, finishing his fifth mug of tea. "To think that Behemoth has been slain."

"I was thinking more about the fact that the killer in question is an alien," Marquis replied.

Lung snorted. "Bone is clay in your hands, and I can become a dragon. There are strange things in this world; a girl from another world doesn't shock me too terribly." He poured himself more tea. "If you wish to know, she is apparently a friend of your daughter."

Marquis turned to him with surprise. "What a small world."

"Not hers." Lung turned to the screen again. "Still, the slaying of Behemoth pleases me."

"Because a monster that has killed millions of people is dead?"

"That too," Lung replied. "But I was thinking more of the fact that I managed to give trouble to someone that killed an Endbringer."

Marquis sighed and shook his head, then poured himself more tea. "Always focused on yourself," he muttered. "

I heard that Moord Nag is in here with us, now."

"The Warlord Queen of Namibia? Yes, I did hear about that. It appears that she is no longer content with her small town anymore." He scratched his beard absentmindedly. "Shouldn't she have gotten a trial?"

"It's just like the case with Black Kaze," Lung replied with a bitter tone in his voice as he said the villain's name. "She was already a recognized killer, and she was deemed too dangerous to have a trial."

"Fair point, I suppose. This Superwoman fellow is quite busy, isn't she? First she killed an Endbringer, and now she's going about, toppling warlords and saving nations."

"She will be in for a nasty shock," Lung said. "The world is vast and full of horrors she wouldn't even dream about. She says she wishes to bring change." He poured himself another mug. "Well, we will see just how much she can enforce that claim."

A/N: A bit on the short side, maybe, but I think it will do nicely. Basically, this arc will cover the first week or so of Taylor's worldwide heroics, as well as providing reactions to them. Next chapter will focus more on Cauldron and other characters.

Oh, and big shout-outs to Falx, Keiran Halcyon, and Atlan for helping with the Afrikaans! I understand that it really makes for a lot of trouble while reading, but I think it helps add to the authenticity.