Armsmaster’s gauntlet flexed against the haft of his halberd, the heads-up display across his visor scrolling with data streams from the girl’s rocky form, and comparing them with similar Case 53’s to get a baseline assumption of her capabilities.
It was fascinating, dangerous, and as stated before, unprecedented.
But data alone wasn’t enough. He needed control of the situation.
The girl—Taylor—stood across from him, flames ebbing and flaring in uneven bursts across her head, and her posture stiff with anxiety. She wasn't hostile yet, but emotionally unstable. Which, given the circumstances, wasn't unwarranted.
He replayed her words in his head. She had pressed the watch down, and it had transformed her. Simple trigger, if true. Which meant…
“I have an idea,” he said.
Her ember-bright eyes snapped back to him, and despite lacking pupils, they were too wide and too hopeful.
“You said you pressed the device and it activated.” Without waiting for a response, he continued, “Then, by the same logic, pressing it again should deactivate the watch. Most competent Tinker constructs include failsafes in their devices, so whoever built this”—he gestured toward the green-lit faceplate embedded in her chest—“wouldn’t design it without a reversion protocol.”
Taylor instinctively raised her hand to the watch before dropping it back down. “You… you think it’ll work?”
“There’s only one way to confirm.”
She nodded, psyching herself up, and then raised her hand to the device. Her fingers trembled against the faceplate before she pressed it.
A flash of emerald light enveloped her, bright enough that his visor’s filters scrambled for half a second to compensate. And in that second, the volcanic bulk was gone, leaving only a thin, pale girl stumbling on unsteady legs. She wore a sweater, jeans, and even a backpack slung across her shoulders.
Armsmaster let out a slow, controlled breath. Even after years in the field, even after meeting the greatest Tinker of his generation in Hero, he couldn't help but marvel. For all intents and purposes, Taylor had been a being made entirely out of plasma and volcanic rocks. Now, she was perfectly normal again.
Instantaneous biological restructuring with no lingering signs of strain and no observable damage. It was practically unheard of.
And if the Simurgh wanted it…
His chest tightened. If one of the most terrifying strategic intelligences on the planet considered this technology a priority, then the watch wasn’t just remarkable. It was probably more dangerous and useful than he thought.
“Colin.” Dragon’s voice cut clean through his thoughts. “The Triumivirate, Myrddin, and several others have arrived. Evacuations are underway, with most of the city either in the shelters or far from the attack zone.”
He cursed inwardly. In his fixation on the capsule and the girl, he’d let himself forget that there was an Endbringer battle to be had.
He glanced back at Taylor. She looked pale, hugging her arms to herself, and shivering not from cold but from lingering fear. She hadn’t asked the obvious yet: why were the streets empty, and why was he so urgent? She didn’t know.
He almost wished she never would.
“The Simurgh,” he finally said, the words weighing more than they should, dragging at his chest, “has descended on Brockton Bay. She’s after the watch.”
Her face crumpled, panic overtaking confusion. “The—what? Why? I—”
He raised a hand, cutting her off, and spoke in the calm tone he used when de-escalating Wards in the field. “Listen carefully, Taylor. If you give me the watch, you’ll be safe. I can secure it, and I can keep the Simurgh from taking it. But I need you to hand it over now. For your sake.”
For a moment, he saw relief in her eyes. She nodded quickly, as if glad to be free of the burden, and her mouth opened to agree. Then she looked down at the watch on her arm, and her shoulders sagged.
“It’s… it’s like it’s bonded to me. I can’t get it off. I’ve tried, I swear.”
He narrowed his eyes behind his visor. “Convenient.”
Her head snapped up. “You think I’m lying?” Anger and desperation cracked through the panic in her voice, and she clawed at her wrist, wincing as the device refused to even budge. She tried again, harder this time, until her arm shook with the effort. But though her skin reddened, the watch stayed unmoved, as if grafted into her very flesh.
Finally, she stopped, chest heaving, and looked back at him. “See? It won’t come off.”
The lie detector pinged back negative. She wasn’t lying.
Armsmaster’s heart sank.
There was only one obvious solution: remove the limb and extract the device manually. A clean sever at the forearm, cauterize, and replace later with prosthetics. The cost of a hand was insignificant next to the risk of an Endbringer acquiring this technology, and killing a child. Logically, and strategically, it was the correct call.
But morally…
He couldn’t do that, not to a child, and definitely not when she stood there looking at him like he could help her.
He cursed inwardly, and shoved the thought down. There had to be a better way to save the day. A more heroic way. But before despair could settle, Taylor spoke again, still hesitant, but with a spark of determination he hadn’t expected.
“If the Simurgh wants the watch,” she said slowly, “then… doesn’t that mean if I leave Brockton Bay, she’ll follow me? She’ll… she’ll leave the city alone?”
The logic was admittedly naive, but not entirely wrong. Endbringers rarely broke established patterns, the Simurgh especially, but if her trajectory was fixed on the device, then moving it could redirect her. After all, she had descended specifically for the watch, and not for the quarterly Endbringer battle.
Armsmaster studied her carefully. “It’s possible. But Taylor, if you do this, you’re making yourself the target. You will die.”
Her hands clenched, knuckles pale. Her voice steadied. “I know.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “But I always admired heroes. People like you. And now… now I have a chance to actually be one. If this is what it takes to save the city, then… I’ll do it.”
For the first time in years, something cracked through Armsmaster’s composure. Guilt. The kind he usually drowned beneath duty and data. A child shouldn’t have to make this choice, shouldn’t stand on the edge of sacrifice while grown men weighed cold strategies. But here she was, braver than many adults he knew.
In the distance, multiple explosions sounded above the buildings. The battle had begun, and Taylor Hebert—an unremarkable, unpowered girl who had stumbled into what might be the greatest tinkertech invention he’d ever seen—was ready to give her life to save Brockton Bay.