How do you survive an Endbringer?
Taylor had seen the question online before, back when ‘Endbringer attack’ was just a headline, something tragic that happened to other people in other cities. The answer, according to every website, every official PSA, and every grim bit of advice, was simple: don’t be there. Or, if you couldn’t manage that, get out before the fighting started.
But neither option was on the table for Taylor Hebert.
Out of every cape that appeared, out of all the fliers in the air and on the water, the Simurgh had decided she was her target. Even now, as the Triumvirate hammered her from all angles with enough power to vaporize city blocks, the Endbringer barely seemed to notice. Her gaze, or whatever passed for it, was locked entirely on Taylor.
That left her with one option.
She had to kill the Simurgh.
It was a ridiculous thought, the kind of suicidal optimism that only existed in last stands shown in comic books and children's cartoons. Killing an Endbringer wasn’t just an impossible notion; it was unthinkable. The strongest capes, the Triumvirate, in the world had tried, and the best they’d ever managed was to make them leave. If anyone could kill one, it would’ve been them.
And yet… when there was nowhere left to run, the mind started to consider everything.
If anyone else could have seen her right now—so small in the vast open sky, with the Simurgh’s shadow looming behind her—they might have thought she was insane. But Taylor didn’t have the luxury of sanity. She was alive, she was determined, and she was tired of running.
Still, even resolve had limits. The Simurgh should’ve retreated by now. She’d taken more damage than in most of her appearances, and still she remained here. The analysts and so-called Endbringer experts would have a field day dissecting this change in behavior (and from standard engagement parameters) later, but Taylor didn’t care about such now. She only cared about living long enough to hear them argue about it.
So, how did you kill something that had survived every attempt before?
The answer might have been on her wrist.
According to knowledge she had gotten upon transformation, the watch was some kind of portable library of intergalactic genetic data that allowed the wielder to alter their DNA at will. It allowed said wielder to become other species with their own abilities, instincts, and even weaknesses.
And if that was true, and there was no reason to think otherwise, surely one of those forms could hurt something like the Simurgh.
It was a fragile kind of hope, but it was all she had left.
Though, to be fair, it wasn't like she could test that knowledge now. She was still puppeting Armsmaster’s armor, the suit’s systems overlaying her vision with constant status updates. And speaking of which, one of those readouts told her what she already suspected: the damage that should’ve killed the man inside was gone. The Medi-Gel system had done its job, fully regenerating his tissues and lost blood.
Which meant she could hand him off.
It felt almost callous to think like that, but guilt was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She couldn’t fight properly while dragging a half-conscious hero along. He’d only slow her down, and if she was going to test the limits of the watch—if she was going to fight—she needed freedom of movement.
As if on cue, a warning ping snapped her out of her thoughts, one of her many sensors detected movement below. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was. The dragonic design aesthetic was unmistakable.
Taylor opened the comm channel once more. “Dragon?”
“I’m here,” came the immediate reply. And again, Taylor couldn't help but think that Dragon’s voice had that synthetic smoothness that reminded Taylor a little too much of her own modulated tone in this form. But to be fair, Dragon was a Tinker, the Tinker, undoubtedly the best in the world. She probably had half a dozen virtual assistants monitoring every signal and alerting her the moment someone tried to reach out.
“Armsmaster’s okay now. I can hand him off.”
There was a pause on the other end, slight but noticeable. “You can… hand him off?” Dragon repeated carefully.
“Yeah,” Taylor confirmed. “I can disconnect from his armor.”
A longer silence followed this time. “Taylor,” Dragon said slowly, “why are you doing this?”
Taylor took a breath that didn’t quite steady her nerves. “I think the watch has a way of dealing with the Simurgh,” she said. “From what I can tell, it’s… a library of hundreds of alien DNA. So maybe there’s something in here that can stop her.”
More silence. Taylor could almost hear Dragon’s thoughts whirring, the possibilities she must’ve been analyzing, and the disbelief she was undoubtedly suppressing. “You think you can kill her?”
“I don’t know if it can,” Taylor admitted. “But it’s the only shot I have. And if I’m going to try, I can’t do it while I’m still linked to Armsmaster’s armor. I need to transform back, and I can’t risk him getting injured again.”
Dragon didn’t argue. She could’ve, easily—she could’ve tried to stop her, or at least delay her—but she didn't. Despite not believing her, though that wasn't surprising, she knew better than to try to convince Taylor otherwise, especially since the girl was the one in trouble.
“Alright, Taylor,” Dragon said. “I’ll send two retrieval suits.”
The plan came together quickly after that, thankfully without a hitch.
A pair of Dragon’s mechs intercepted Taylor mid-flight. Taylor slowed her speed, detached herself from Armsmaster’s armor, and handed him (suit and all) over to one of the retrieval mechs. Once he was secure, she fell into the other one, the metal shell closing around her with a hiss of hydraulics. Pressing the faceplate on her chest, she felt the alien form dissolve, her body shrinking and reshaping until she was human again.
“Transfer complete,” Dragon said over the speakers. “I’ve got Armsmaster. You’re clear.”
“Thanks,” Taylor murmured, looking down at the watch.
“Taylor,” Dragon began, voice serious, “whatever you’re planning, please be careful. We don’t know what that device is capable of. And the Simurgh—”
“I know,” Taylor interrupted gently. “But I can’t keep running. If this thing can do what I think it can…” She hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment press against her chest. “Then maybe I can stop her. Maybe I can actually be a hero.”
She didn’t wait for Dragon’s response.
Taylor’s thumb found the button almost instinctively. The watch responded immediately, the faceplate splitting apart as the small tower rose, and a new silhouette appeared. As she turned the dial with trembling hands, it shifted through forms too alien for her to recognize, each one stranger and more monstrous than the last.
She swallowed hard, and whispered to no one, “If you really understand me… if you really know what I need—”
Then, before she could second-guess herself, she slammed her hand down.