The Girl

[RECONNECTION]

[SUCCESS]

If she rated the pain experience on a five-point scale, with three being the Amputation torture, four being almost vaporized by Scion's attack, and five - being exposed to Bakuda's pain bomb, she'd rated it about four and a half. Which is quite an achievement, considering everything that had happened. Her consciousness came back abruptly, as if by the flick of a switch. Again. Though, strictly speaking, it was impossible to call her current state "consciousness''. Not in the standard sense of the word, anyway. Of all the senses available to her, the most unconventional one had returned. Her memories from the moment the restraints were removed until her last conversation with Contessa were indecipherable, but there was nothing in them that prevented her from forming a more or less coherent picture of what had happened. All in all, it all worked out. Scion is dead, Mankind is fine, Earth Bet still stands. But the details... complicated things. Taylor had always considered herself a proponent of... not always ethical, but effective methods, but Khepri had made that rule so absolute that even she considered Khepri's deeds monstrous. But in the end, it worked. From this came... Some obvious conclusions. The possibility of someone from Earth Bet coming for her... existed, but the likelihood of such an event occurring was extremely low. Contessa's words could be believed. Even after she had put two bullets in her head. Especially after that. Reflecting on the past nearly drove Taylor into a melancholy state that she could not afford. Though she had survived, and in theory had even avoided the imminent threat of living in a vegetable state for the rest of her life, the rest of her problems were still there. The new world promised new troubles. And she had to be ready for them. And lucky for her, the good doctors gave her back her usual tools for gathering information. Swarm. Hospital she ended up in was a pretty clean place. No more than a couple of thousand specimens, and those were mostly at foundation and sewer level. The wards were surprisingly clean. The same could not be said of the surrounding buildings. Residential buildings, warehouses, and office buildings, a small square, a 24-hour supermarket, sewage drains, trash cans. All of these places were crawling with insects. Certainly, that was clearly not enough to be considered a major cluster, but for very basic reconnaissance it should have been more than enough. The suburbs of Washington looked... perfectly ordinary. No bustle, no destruction in the background, nothing that stood out at first glance. Given the Scion's strike on Washington, such a picture was simply not possible for her Earth. As a consequence, her previous conclusions had so far been confirmed Springfield was the perfect neighborhood for her. The square, with its slightly marshy pond, provided her with a near-perfect starting point for her swarm formation. Several wasp nests, ants, spiders, butterflies, flies, and a couple of dozen other species. Pretty much a complete set, except for the Black Widows, but it would have been silly to ask for more. It was a deep night outside, which meant it was time to act. The first thing she needed to do was find a base of operations. The search didn't take long. There was a tire shop a pair blocks away from her that fit all the criteria quite well. It was dirty enough that no one would notice a dozen other insect corpses and spacious enough to hide some of the swarm for the time being. But the main thing was to have a small office computer in a separate nook on the first floor. The machine looked rather dingy and a bit outdated, but it started up without any problems. Windows, immortal and alive even in parallel realities where even Scion did not look, greeted it with a familiar logo. Fortunately, there was no password on the computer, which made things much easier. After navigating the grimy keyboard, Taylor searched for information. Wasps pecked at the keys that worked, typing in the information she needed, while clusters of successive flies scanned what was written. There was an incredible amount of information for the query "Vought International". The search engine pages went into infinity, so Taylor decided to start with public knowledge. Wikipedia, also interdimensional, was a good fit. "Vought International is an American multinational corporation specializing in pharmaceuticals, protective equipment, multimedia, and superhero management. It is in the top 50 of the Dow Jones Titans." The article about the corporation was impressive in its monumental size. But specifically, Taylor's attention was tied to the "History" section. And here was where things got interesting. Having opened a dozen more tabs, she began to explore. The date of the corporation's foundation was one thousand nineteen forty-six when a certain Dr. Frederick Vaught after receiving a patent for the development of new drugs for the U.S. military opened his small research laboratory, which later grew into a huge transnational monster, swallowing such titans of the market as "Johnson & Johnson". Vaught's pharmaceutical research was indeed impressive. The article mentioned at least ten Nobel Prizes in medicine received for the development of a number of revolutionary drugs in the widest medical spectrum. But the main reason for the transformation of a large and successful, but still simple pharmaceutical company into a transnational monster, was their reliance on the support of superheroes. Once Taylor got to this information, the number of open clutches in her browser increased by a good two dozen more. And frankly, she found it extremely hard to believe what she read. Superheroes on this Earth... let it be Earth-V, appeared in the forties. More than a quarter of the century earlier than on Earth Bet. Hell, even before Contessa and Dr. Mother found Eden. Before Zion and Eden got here. Something like that shouldn't be possible. Time on different Earths was a synchronized entity, and as a consequence, there was no way the Passengers could have ended up...here earlier than they did on Bet. It was simply impossible. On the other hand, with the Entities involved, to rule out any possibility would simply be a foolish decision. Perhaps Phir Se's Passenger wasn't the only one? However, even Khonsu didn't show something like that. The strangeness grew more and more the further she progressed in her reading material. All of the superheroes that existed and still exist today were born in the United States. Yes, there was some analogy to the notion of a trigger event awakening superpowers in an extremely small percentage of people, but the wording was so vague that nothing could be understood precisely. The next thing was that she couldn't find any references to the existence of supervillains. Yes, the tabloids loved to muse about superheroes for their small and not-so-small sins, but there was not a single headline about serious crimes committed by superheroes. No high-profile murders, no massacres, nothing, a clean slate. Fines at most, press conferences with apologies on rare occasions. All of this together created an extremely suspicious situation. Superheroes showing up in one single country? It sounded like complete nonsense. Not to mention the fact that in sixty years there hadn't been a single mention of a freaking super murderhobo. Her knowledge of parallel worlds was enough to be sure that people everywhere remained human, whichever parallel Earth they were born on. With all the advantages and disadvantages that entailed. It didn't make Taylor believe one bit that the people on this Earth had a greater sense of responsibility and justice than those on Bet. And that's not to mention the fact that there were no Endbringers or other natural S-Class threats here. And that was probably the most paradoxical thing to her mind. At all times, action begat opposition. Human nature, fueled by the purpose of passengers, demanded a conflict. Where there is a hero, there must always be a villain. Because otherwise there is no point in heroes. "Extraordinary threats require extraordinary responses." This quote is attributed to Eidolon, who said this during an interview in the early eighties. And despite all personal animosity, Taylor couldn't agree more with these words. Strictly speaking, the puzzle didn't seem to be anything particularly complicated. Superheroes suddenly appear on the scene near the end of World War II, when the tipping point has already happened. "Vought" was founded just a year after the end of World War II. And almost immediately got government contracts to develop medicines. Add to the equation the small fact that Sard and those behind him were able to cure her of some pretty nasty wounds with a single serum, and the puzzle begins to take shape. Someone, it is impossible to say for sure, was able to develop some analog of the Cauldron Vials. As if there was some unholy abomination created by mixing Teacher, Lab Rat, and Blasto's powers. She could not yet prove the principle and the fact of the Passengers' involvement in this scheme, but Taylor literally saw these obvious patterns. Perhaps it was the fact that in the maternity ward two floors below her body position, there were several baby boxes where babies were injected with some strange drug by drip. Leaving aside the superhero situation, most of the world's history was quite consistent with what happened to Aleph. Certainly, there were differences, purely due to a different geopolitical situation. It's one thing to have nuclear weapons and nothing else, but it's another thing to be a "God Chosen Nation" and have a regiment of super-soldiers of varying degrees of usefulness under your command, a decent portion of whom can withstand machine-gun fire, regenerate and have some other nasty ability on top of all that, besides being a superpower with one of the largest nuclear reserves. Returning from her excursion into world history to Vought's history, Taylor began to look more closely at the part of the company's history that has to do with the capes. If Wikipedia is to be believed, the first confirmed contacts between the capes and Vought were established in the mid-sixties, when the company began its active growth phase thanks to a new batch of government contracts. According to a legend, Frederick Vaught was attempted to be robbed and an unknown superheroine in a cape rescued him, after which the inspired professor decided to create the country's first privately funded superhero group. Vought's goal was to "Support brave men and women who put their amazing abilities at the service of the American Society." Bullshit of course. Even if Vaught had nothing to do with the production of supers (which Taylor legitimately doubted), such a decision could not have been dictated by anything other than mercenary interest. Capes, backed by money and talented PR people, quickly became show stars with huge fan bases who were literally ready to throw money at anything that had anything to do with their idols. Given the superhuman abilities, the capes were not shy about demonstrating, the effect was only stronger. Two years after assembling their first team, Vought launched a second. And then a third. And fifteen years later, almost every state had at least one team formed from Vought-funded supers. Such a resounding success has certainly spawned envious people who wanted to get into this undoubtedly successful and super-profitable business. But to all appearances, there were either too few successful competitors or something very interesting happened behind the scenes, but the fact remained that by the eighties Vout had become a virtual monopoly in the sphere of superhero services. In the early 2000-s, after a series of terrorist attacks occurred around the world, Vought announced the creation of a new team, which would bring together only the best of the best - the most famous and strongest supers. The resulting group of supers was called "The Seven". A local equivalent of the Triumvirate, but with a slightly expanded lineup. The squad, to be honest, was not very impressive. Lamplighter. Pyrokinetic Shaker, but judging by the description - not too strong. Not even close to the level of Burnscar or Lung, but clearly more capable than Circus or Spitfire. Low Mover and Brute. A problematic opponent, but nothing impossible. Translucent. Stranger Brute combo with impenetrable invisible skin. The combination is generally unpleasant, but with the right sensory network, he won't be able to get close to it undetected. Deep. Master controlling marine life, able to breathe underwater, low Brute, low Mover. Situational enemy. Easy to be denied access to his minions. A controversial issue of conflict between the two Passengers, in the case of a crab battle. Marathon. Running Mover. Low Brute. A nasty opponent in the open. If fighting is unavoidable, prepare a closed, controllable environment. Black Noir. Abilities unclear, presumably another Brute-Stranger package. Unknown opponent. Reconnaissance is required, confrontation undesirable. From his description, he's currently in one of the chambers next to hers, waiting for something. Queen Maeve. High-end Brute, Low Mover, possibly low Thinker. Dangerous opponent, but not Alexandria-level. Confrontation is undesirable. If inevitable, Alexandria's scenario. Homelander. High-end Brute, High Mover, Medium Blaster, Medium Sensory Thinker. Actually Alexandria, but slightly weaker, but with extra abilities. Confrontation is highly undesirable, but nothing really impossible. Whoever the creators of the capes in this universe were, but a Mover-Brute package was included as a baseline option. Opponents are generally unpleasant, but capes have almost always been unpleasant opponents. But Seven is no match for the Triumvirate's destructive power, let alone more... serious threats. Time flew by while gathering this simple information, and before Taylor knew it, the clock showed six in the morning and it gradually began to get light on the horizon. The workshop was due to open in two hours, so Taylor decided it was time to call it a day. Especially since, by that time, she'd finished placing bugs all over the hospital and could begin a full-fledged probing of the ground. As for the results of the reconnaissance... In general, the layout was pretty standard, except that in the basement there was some kind of vault with a very serious-looking security system. Apparently, the strange serum the children in the boxes on the third floor had been injected with was stored there. The presence of a member of the Seven was somewhat... unnerving to Taylor, also complicating the hypothetical escape plan she had begun to formulate. The least known of the group, which in fact meant "the most dangerous until the full range of abilities is ascertained." The surveillance of Noir bore no visible fruit, except that the character resembled a puppet rather than a real person. During the surveillance, the character moved only a few times as the nurses passed near the ward. By eight in the morning, Dr. Sard finally appeared within her radius, arriving in a private executive-class car. Once in his office, the doctor changed clothes and sat down at his work computer, only to jump up in a few minutes and walk quickly toward her room, summoning a nurse as he went. "What happened during the night, Hastings? Any irritations?" "Nothing, sir. It's just that in the middle of the night, her brain activity levels went up... and they've been up ever since. As if she were awake." The doctor just nodded in response, letting the nurse go. The next destination was the room in which Black Noir sat. Once inside, the doctor said without further ado. "The patient had exhibited powerful brain activity during the night. Did something change?" "She started breathing more frequently. Her blood pressure changed." - The superhero wasn't much of a talker. The doctor nodded, agreeing with what was said. "I think we should contact the Vice-Director." Black Noir took a cell phone out of his belt pocket, then dialed the number and handed the phone to the doctor. The wait didn't last long. "This is Sard. Subject Zero has come out of her coma and is showing remarkable brain activity, comparable to being awake, but has not yet regained consciousness. " "Can she be awakened?" "We haven't tried yet." "Try, doctor. Time is of the essence." "Roger that." That ended the conversation, and Sard and Noir left the room, heading in her direction. Focusing on how she felt, Taylor tried to estimate her chances of coming to her senses. At the moment she was still technically unconscious, at least with her ears and eyes she couldn't perceive anything, but given the possibility of all the other activity... the odds were quite high. And indeed. It wasn't even ten minutes before something stark-smelling burst into the empty lacuna of her own senses, yanking her back to reality with a mighty jerk. "Rise and Shine, miss Ann. Rise and shine"

***

She was freezing. The thin blanket was not enough to keep her warm, which made her feel goosebumps. Other than that, there was no other change in the room. With some difficulty, when she opened her eyes, Taylor was astonished at the unnatural clarity and detail of the surroundings she could see with her own eyes. She clearly didn't need her glasses anymore. Since she didn't really believe that she had undergone laser vision correction surgery between her previous waking period, it was likely that the miraculous injection that had brought her back on line was also to blame for her suddenly improved vision. She could no longer doubt that she was back on track because, unlike the last time, she felt her body perfectly, including all the discomfort of the catheters in her remaining arm, her stiff back, and other not-so-pleasant physiological details. As for the arm... Taylor wasn't expecting a miracle, so she wasn't disappointed. The stump of her arm was virtually unchanged, except that the muscles looked a little more defined. Sard coughed, catching her attention. Taylor looked up, eyeing the long-studied doctor meticulously. "Rise and Shine, miss Ann. Rise and shine. Can you speak?" Taylor tried to answer, but suddenly realized that her throat was terribly dry so that instead of normal words came out only a hoarse hiss. "Wa... ter…" That caused the reaction. "Yes, of course. Nurse!" A jug of water appeared in her room just a few minutes later. The nurse helped her drink by holding the glass. After completing this rather embarrassing process, the nurse quickly withdrew, looking apprehensively at Black Noir, who was ensconced at the far end of the room and, judging by the direction of his gaze, watching and perhaps recording all her reactions, using a small breast mounted camera. "So, miss. How are you feeling?" Taylor grimaced. "Terribly, Doctor. But much better compared to my previous condition. Sensation returned along with mobility" -as proof, she lifted her arm slightly, so as not to strain the catheter connected to the IV. The doctor nodded and smiled slightly. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, Miss Ann. Your employer and I were very worried about your condition." Taylor was even offended for a second. Such cheap manipulation, who do they think she is? However, the Doctor was clearly not an expert in interrogating superheroes... As for her legend, she didn't have many options. Of course, outright lying in front of someone as obscure as Noir was dangerous. Considering her reactions being recorded - this footage definitely be reviewed by specialists, that she was sure of. If Vaught had even the faintest resemblance of a Watchdog in their employ... it would not be pleasant. But she had no other options. Revealing information about herself would be foolish. "My employer?" - She tried to put on a puzzled expression. Her facial muscles were still somewhat clumsy, but she could literally feel herself getting better by the minute. Sard looked a little surprised but quickly regained his composure. "Miss, what's the last thing you remember?" Good question. Convenient one. No need to lie, and the events themselves without context won't tell you anything. "I remember... a woman. In an office suit, with a tie. We were in the middle of a field. It was night. It was night and the moon seemed so big and bright. There was... there was nothing around. I was... hurt and my head was... bad. She said I had done a good job and had outlived my usefulness. After which she shot me in the head twice." Contessa said something slightly different, but the gist boiled down to something similar. Sard looked astonished at what he heard. "Miss, I can safely say that you are one of the luckiest people I have ever met in my life. Surviving not one, but two bullets to the head is really worth it." "Unless, of course, you were shot without intention to kill" mentally commented Taylor. Given the circumstances of Contessa's personality, there was no doubt in that. The doctor turned towards Noir, who shook his head. With a sigh, the Doctor continued. "Miss Ann, despite my best wish to leave you to rest, Vaught International is in dire need of any information you can provide. If you'll allow me, I'd like to ask a few questions." Not that Noir's studying gaze left her much choice. Turning her head slightly, Taylor tried to relax as much as possible, trying to look natural. "Ask away, Doctor." "Your full name?" "Anne Wilbourne. - In her mind, Taylor apologized to her friend, whose last name she had chosen at random." "Date of birth? "June nineteenth, Nineteen ninety-three". - This was the way to make up for the discrepancies in the timelines. The data didn't make sense anyway; officially she wasn't supposed to exist. "Do you have any relatives?" "I don't know." - She didn't know if her father had survived the fires of Golden Morning, her Khepri Crusade. "Are you a super? "I don't know, please elaborate" "Do you have extraordinary powers?" "Yes, I do." "Please, describe them" "I provoke conflict." - At these words, she couldn't help but smile faintly. Contessa's words were still echoing in her head. After all... perhaps even without her powers, she was right. "Explain." - The obviously interested doctor answered quickly. She waited for a brief dramatic pause, gathering her thoughts and ideas. "There is always a path of greatest resistance. A series of events, actions, conversations, movements that guarantee the most dramatic outcome of events. My power unconsciously pushes me along this path. Even what you and I are talking about right now is the path of greatest resistance." Not that it was her only ability, but even Contessa acknowledged such an accomplishment. Besides, in theory, it should sound scary enough, but also useless. Sard turned pale. The doctor seemed to realize what such a skill could mean in theory, but he continued. "Any other abilities? Something to do with portals, perhaps?" "No, nothing like that." Sard turned to Noir again and was again commanded to continue. So did Noir himself, who appeared to be receiving commands from someone else. She hadn't yet managed to plant enough insects on the hero to listen in on radio conversations. "Okay, Ms. Wilbourn. You talked about how we don't have a common employer. In that case, who is your employer?" "I don't know." "Why?" "I can't remember." "Did you have any teammates? Anyone that you could remember?" "Team... I had a team. Not a lot... Just a few people, but I can't remember anything about them. Just... just vague images. " "And that woman you were describing. Was she with you? What about her?" "We... We met before that. Several times. She... wasn't a good person. More like... an agent. I think she worked for someone, but I can't remember who..." Contessa's loyalties, in general, seemed very vague to her. With power like the one she had, anything was possible. "Could she open portals?" Taylor shook her head. This circus had to stop, and she'd given Vought some food for thought. "No... She can't do it herself. It's... someone else. I can't remember who. Can we... Can we call it a day?" - She looked straight at Black Noir. The hero didn't move for a few seconds before he nodded. Sard, clearly delighted by this fact, rose from his chair. "Yes, that's more than enough for today. I'll get the nurse and we'll give you a full examination…"

***

Madeline Stillwell. A few hours later. "No... She can't do it herself. It's... someone else. I can't remember who. We... we can call it a day." - At the last words of "Wilbourn," the recording cut off, leaving the room in sepulchral silence. Madeline, who was watching the tape for the fourth time, not counting her remote presence during the original dialogue, looked expectantly at her subordinates who were staring mesmerized into the projector screen, which froze the image of a young girl with black hair. "So, gentlemen, I'd like to hear your thoughts on what you've seen before Peters presents a report from our in-house smart guys. Reynolds? Serizawa? Bouski?" Silence reigned in the room. "Ma'am..." the head of the Superanatomy Research Department began gently, "Frankly... it's hard to believe. I've never had a super with this kind of ability in my experience." "That's what your predecessor said about Mesmer, Serizawa. Do you think the Subject is lying?" The woman nodded. "Yes ma'am. Certainly, I don't rule out the possibility of such a mutation, but it sounds too fantastic. Such an ability is... too conceptual if you will. Not to mention a non-contact readout. Mesmer is one thing, but remote telepathy is another, and it's so... strange." Madeline partly agreed with Sirizawa's assessment, for the theory sounded fantastical. "I don't quite agree with you, Dr. Sirizawa. It's rather obvious that Miss Wilburne wasn't likely to be completely frank with us, but all things considered... it seems to me that she might not have lied about this ability." - Reynolds spoke thoughtfully. "What do you mean?" The man chewed his lips. "See for yourselves. We know for a fact that Wilbourn fell out of the portal with two bullets in her head, both of which struck the strange tumor rather precisely. Based on the trajectories we assume, it was actually an execution. But the Subject survived. Now imagine for a second that what she said was true." " Are you saying they wanted to get rid of her because she interfered with their plans?"- Stillwell clarified. Reynolds shook his head. "Not exactly. I mean, yes, but actually, no. What if she's a virus? A Trojan horse in the guise of a supervisor, generating trouble where none exists. It's the perfect ability for a saboteur. That said, it's impossible to use it anywhere else because…" "It always takes the path of greatest resistance, I get your point, Reynolds." - The picture the CTO painted also had merit, even if it presented a very unpleasant outcome for Vought. " Do you have anything to add?" " No, ma'am. The subject gave us no specifics as to the origin of her suit, let alone information about the portals." "I see. Serizawa? Bouski? Anything to add? The PR Director, who had been silent until then, decided to speak up. "Regarding the supposed abilities of our guest... I think we've taken the wrong approach. Assuming that our unknown competitors use simple human logic, shouldn't we first look at the costume Miss Wilbourn used, and then make assumptions about how much of what she said is consistent with the facts we already have…" " Fine idea, Aaron! - exclaimed Peters, then turned to the Director, "will you allow me to begin now? " Stillwell looked around at the others and nodded. Matthew rose from his seat and cleared his throat and began. "When we got our hands on the tape, we asked ourselves exactly the same questions as you have now. In a slightly different order, but that doesn't change the point. To begin with, we checked the Facility again against all the card indexes available to us, and as you may have guessed, nothing has changed. No, we found a few matches in first and last names, but three of them have been dead for forty years, one is over sixty, and the rest are still walking under the table. No date of birth matches. The girl we know as Anne Wilbourn doesn't exist. Our second potential clue was the agent's words and description of the woman. The criteria again were rather vague, and we have no way of knowing even a rough list of Intelligence Agency agents, but if you compare the words about "Maximum Resistance" with recent headlines…" "Peters, are you really saying now that our Subject is a waste of some kind of secret CIA project? And this is all about Assange?" "I know how that sounds, gentlemen. But frankly, this version has a right to exist. First of all, the dates. How long has it been there from the time our guest appeared until that Guantanamo data was published? Two weeks. And judging by the latest data, that's not all Assange was able to get his hands on. If our guest is indeed the spawn of some CIA project, and she's not lying about "the greatest resistance," then the very fact of her existence is a huge operational risk. The wounds are explained simply - our guest sensed something wrong and decided to escape, but was caught and finished off. The CIA simply decided to clean up their tails and throw us a Trojan horse at the same time. Of course, that doesn't explain the portals and nanotechnology, but if anyone has such toys, it's the military and very deep in secret laboratories." Peters looked extremely pleased with his conclusions. Madeline, on the other hand, was beginning to feel a growing headache. "Peters, are you really telling me that this... nonsense you call a working theory is the best you've come up with all this time?" The head of analytics is frowning. "Yes, ma'am. Either that, or we're dealing with an alien from a parallel reality who came after our souls." Stillwell sighed doomfully. And these people were the best that Vaught had to offer. Sometimes she doubted her choice of profession. " I see. Bouski, single out someone in your department who can talk and keep his mouth shut. Because Sard isn't doing a very good job. Peters and Reynolds will prepare a list of questions to be answered. Also, coordinate with Sirisawa and try to at least guess how much of what Object said is true. This concludes the meeting." After waiting for her subordinates to leave the office, Madeline leaned back in her chair and simply stared at the ceiling. This whole thing with Wilburn, whoever she really was, was making the vice-director awfully nervous. Especially when Stan Edgar's trust was at stake, and a huge pile of money poured into a single dose of the Compound. All in all, things were going badly. Unwilling to deal with the pile of problems on her heavy head, Madeline decided to relax. Finding the phone in her jacket pocket, she dialed a number from the speed dial. " John, honey, it's me. Are you not too busy right now? Oh, great. Why don't you come over to my place and we can talk about a couple of personal topics? I'll wait for you." Knowing that her hero was already moving toward her, ignoring the sound barrier, Madeline let herself sink into her chair, anticipating some good relaxing sex.