Chapter Text
It was nearly a week after the destruction of Ellisburg, New York and Chief Director Costa-Brown was in yet another secret meeting. The whole incident was already under significant security seals, especially when it came to the Parahuman response to a reported wave of monsters. The death toll, both in terms of civilian and PRT staff, was horrific and had led to many people in power asking some extremely pointed questions about the whole thing. The leader of the PRT had been run ragged soothing the right people while threatening the wrong people to be thorough. While punching out the suspected asshole behind the whole disaster would have been much more satisfying, he was already dead. So now she was left to find out exactly what the hell happened and if it could be turned to their advantage.
To that end, she had reviewed countless reports from the experts and appropriate Thinker assets. Their conclusions were a mixed bag. "So, we've confirmed that the target is dead, but he left something behind? Do we have any proof of that besides gut feelings and strange energy patterns?"
Doctor Franca White, a specialist in advanced medical research and biological development, opened a folder. Inside were several pictures of something that looked like dandelion fluff only bluish purple. "At the moment, most of the evidence we have has come from the final survivor's report. However, we WERE able to recover something during our sweep. This was isolated approximately two hundred yards from the northern edge of the Ellisburg crater. While our tests are still ongoing, initial results indicate that it's a spore of some kind."
Costa-Brown made a point of reviewing each and every word with inhuman precision. There was a better than average chance she would be required to transcribe everything from memory later for Kurt and Doctor Mother. With the relatively recent death of Hero, PRT security protocols were more inflexible than ever. Which made keeping Cauldron in the loop much more difficult than before. "I see. Do we know anything about the base organism in question? What kind of threat does it represent? The Wet Tinker's other work was rather... concerning."
The scientist seemed to debate for a moment before replying, her expression a mess of contradictions. "Forgive me ma'am, but based upon the descriptions I've heard about his so-called goblins...this is just at another level. We had trouble even determining if it possessed anything like genetic material at first. The information storage is so dense on a chemical level that the closest comparison I can make right now is that a normal human's DNA is a single book while this spore is the Library Of Congress. Without more samples or further testing, we just don't know what it will create. But that is not the biggest thing we should be worried about."
With a raised eyebrow, her audience reviewed the paperwork again, now focused on something that had seemed trivial before. "I see...tell me, are these measurements accurate?"
"They are. The spore is roughly the size of an eyelash. The deceased Parahuman villain behind this whole disaster expressed his power by manipulating and shaping biological matter. Given the reported size of the suspected source of the spawn, along with the scope of the explosion, initial estimates have these things spreading up and down the eastern seaboard. Depending on how durable they are long term, prevailing winds could spread them as far as Montana and Iowa within the month. But we don't even know what rules govern their theoretical life cycle yet, and probably won't until another incident happens."
The thought of a thousand more Ellisburgs, no, probably closer to a million, was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat regardless if her powers allowed it. Instead, she let herself to focus on the fact that Contessa was actively working on a management path to handle the fallout. Not that Doctor White would ever know that. "I'll assign more dedicated Thinker assets to the problem, as well as initiate stronger hazard measures, but at this point it's probably a case of closing barn doors after the cows ran away. Still, better safe than sorry."
Unsatisfied, but unable to come up with anything better, Doctor White made a note.
Shuffling the paperwork for an obvious distraction, Rebecca turned to another subsection of the report. "Now, we have confirmed the loss of every man, woman and child in the city. We also lost every set of PRT boots on the ground save one. I am getting some very pointed questions about that final death toll, so I need you to clarify this next issue clearly and concisely. Did Emily Piggot survive or are we looking at yet another fuck you from a manchild madman?"
"That is...a touch more complicated."
-----
After the last week, Emily Piggot had come to one, inescapable conclusion.
Quarantine was boring as hell.
Not that she was in a traditional example of the practice with limited visitors and a small selection of paper products that could be burned later. No, that would be too easy. She was in the PRT approved, high end, extreme low contact version. Where she was forced into restraints, a blindfold and a gag every time someone came in to take samples. Where she was only spoken to through a digital, time delayed voice simulator to minimize cross contamination from possible implanted memetics. Where the only stimulation came from incredibly ancient, heavily filtered movies from the forties to the seventies, all while under observation for possible signs of hidden programing or atypical reactions. Hell, every meal so far had been paste in a tube that was retrieved to perform even MORE tests.
The last few years had taught them valuable lessons about just what Parahuman powers could accomplish if given anything to work with.
At least the people in charge had the heart to avoid military dramas or anything based upon a true war story.
Emily might understand why she was being treated like this, but it did not help keep her occupied. The containment room was too small for any sort of workout. She was not allowed anything to write with so paperwork was out and honestly? She kind of wanted to know what exactly had been done to her already. The anticipation made her survival feel like a double edged sword and she was fucking sick of it.
Besides, she just knew that the second those cheap assholes ran out of movies they would switch to television dramas and she hated that crap.
"Agent Piggot?"
The now familiar cracking voice filled the air, sending spiders down her spine. That did not stop her from standing at attention, just in case. "Yes, that's me."
"Agent, my name is Director Rebecca Costa-Brown, Chief Director of the PRT. You'll be happy to know that you have been cleared of malicious intent as well as signs of implanted, Parahuman based effects. However, at this time, we need to talk about next steps. Please prepare to exit your cell for decontamination and debrief."
The prospect of feeling properly clean instead of relying on wet naps and industrial strength sanitation gel was enough motivation to get her by the door in a blink.
Two agents, both wearing basic hazmat gear instead of multiple layers of kevlar and rubber, led her to a shower that was just on the verge of being too hot, but deliciously thorough. A fresh set of sweats and she felt like a million bucks...until someone handed her a fruit smoothie with actual flavor. Then she was in actual heaven.
After she was somewhat presentable again, her escort led her to an interrogation room. There, wearing her own air mask and sitting behind a sheet of security glass, was Chief Director Costa-Brown in the flesh. Understanding just how serious this was, Emily stood at attention immediately. "Ma'am."
"At ease and be seated, Agent Piggot. We have much to discuss and a limited window to do so in. I have read your interview transcripts but have some questions of my own. Hopefully, you will have the answers I need. Then we can discuss what happens next."
Emily accepted the order for what it was. She had already gone over every, mind numbing detail in triplicate over the course of the week. What could some pencil pushing political appointee do that professional PRT interrogators had not done already?
Two hours later, the answer seemed to be quite a bit.
Costa-Brown was relentless. She picked apart every single step they had endured in their trek through hell, including the various ways her teammates had been torn to pieces. Every monster, trap and shift in terrain was discussed in excruciating detail. What was worse, she seemed to fixate on minutia, ignoring the lost lives as a mere numbers game. These people were Emily's friends, allies and those she trusted to have her back. Yet this bitch was treating them as just an unfortunate sacrifice in the name of Parahuman control. It was infuriating, and only the knowledge of how weak she was kept her from punching something.
By the end of their talk, the blonde was furious and her boss was thoughtful. "I see...that fills in a few gaps I was concerned about. However, we need to finalize our evaluation of your overall health. Please follow your escort to the testing area. Dismissed."
Good.
She needed to work off some steam.
-----
Almost an hour later, Piggot went from furious to freaking the fuck out.
Regular exercise was a common aspect of her life on the job. After all, the stronger and faster you were, the less likely some jackass having a bad day would splatter you like a jar of pasta sauce. So she was used to hours in the weight room, running drills in full kit and making sure she had no real reason to watch her diet besides maintenance plans. She also knew enough to make sure she did not hurt herself exercising like some brash beginner. Not after her own years as a rookie.
Yet the PRT scientists had put her through a routine nearly twice as bad as anything she had ever attempted...and it felt like nothing! No burning muscles, no straining joints, not even any trouble breathing! Just going beyond Olympic levels of fitness and finding herself more than ready for more! It was terrifying!
Had she...had she been turned into a Cape?
Were the tests wrong?
Was she just something that thought it was Emily Piggot?
The answer she got was surprisingly...not exactly.
Someone named Doctor White finally spoke to her about it the next day. After another shower, a proper MRE and a restless night's sleep in a normal room. It figured that the scientist had to be a fucking drama queen.
"Agent Piggot, your condition appears to be more or less stable. However, we have determined that there are clear side effects from what you were exposed to. Namely, this substance here."
A small picture of what she recognized as blood cells was pushed across the table. However, unlike her high school biology textbook, this one had small, blue smudges filling between the various cracks. "Wait...this stuff is inside me? It kind of looks like..."
The Doctor shifted, expression uncomfortable. "Correct. This appears to be the so-called blue liquid that you described in your report. Our tests have been inconclusive because of its astounding rate of decay, but we can determine a few key things. First, it seems to react as a non-Newtonian fluid, which would explain how it shielded you from the majority of the explosion. Second, it works in a fashion similar to stem cells, matching the natural cells around it and replacing them with copies over time. Third, it also acts to rapidly rejuvenate and repair biological systems it comes into contact with. Such a combination leads to something along the lines of an artificial power set outside traditional Parahuman standards. In practical terms, you could be considered a Brute one now."
Hearing that...Emily did not know what to think. The PRT had become her life, but she knew the score. They did not let Capes into the clubhouse and she might as well be the next worst thing now!
"Why...why did that asshole make something to give people powers?"
"Well, we don't think that was his intention. Its original purpose was to act as feedstock."
Those words made her blood run cold.
"Feedstock? Feedstock for what exactly?"
-----
"Report."
Back at her official offices in Washington, the Chief Director reviewed the latest intelligence report with a frown. They had suspected that Ellisburg would just be the beginning, but no one wanted that to be more than a theory. No one sane anyways. But now, at the edge of a Pennsylvania cornfield, their theory had become fact.
An entrance to a formerly collapsed mine had reopened, radiating an escalated heat signature that could not be ignored. Especially when two separate Thinkers started hyperventilating at the video feed.
However, THIS time they were not screwing around with B listers in need of proper experience.
No, instead they were going in with the big guns.
"Tell Eidolon he has a go. Find out what we are dealing with and get us samples. I want to know what we have unleashed on the world and how to bring it to heel."