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Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death

Fandoms:

Parahumans Series - Wildbow幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil - Carlo Zen (Light Novels)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil (Anime)

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EconomicsGame TheoryParanoiaPsychoanalysisGrief/MourningPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSDCharacter StudyThinker NonsenseAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceMostly MeetingsOriginal Character(s)Originally Posted Elsewherevery bad coping strategies

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English

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Published:2023-11-02Updated:2025-01-20Words:211,752Chapters:46/?Comments:136Kudos:598Bookmarks:229Hits:37,663

A Young Girl's Criminal Record

TorontoTowers

Summary:

Tanya & friends enjoy a well-earned early retirement in scenic, peaceful Brockton Bay. Well, relative to the Eastern Front, anyway. Returned to a modern world and freed from her military obligations, will Tanya finally achieve the peaceful life for which she's always strove? No. No, she will not.

CW: Major Character Death, Grief, Very Bad Coping Strategies

Notes:

Crossposted from SB.

I am the original author. I plan to post in both places simultaneously going forward. I'll try to keep any future edits in sync, too.

(The first few chapters are... pretty rough. First serious go at long form creative writing, and it shows. I've got plans to touch them up at some point, but who knows when I'll get to that? I like to think I'm still improving, of course, but the bulk of the jump in quality happens by 1.5 or so. Though 1.X is the first chapter I think is actually good.)

Original Opening Notes:

This is my first attempt at long-form writing. Constructive criticism welcome. I've got a decent amount planned out, and most of chapter 2 written, but no promises at all as to update rate since I'm still figuring this sort of writing out. I'm taking some liberties with YS's magic system, inspired by the excellent work done by jacobk and Gremlin Jack, since it's not very well fleshed out in canon, and what's there isn't that great. Italics for Germanian dialogue, <> for communication formula dialogue.

AU Notes: On the Worm side, the divergence point is a slightly different Leviathan fight. Dauntless avoided the time stop effect. Several of the Travelers died, setting Echidna off early. More details will come out as the story progresses. On the YS side... Well, you'll figure it out.

Chapter 1: 1.1

Chapter Text

-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

A flash of white, a muted pop, and I was somewhere else. Biting chill winds replaced with a subtle coastal breeze. Artillery-pocked Russy hellscape replaced with a city that to all appearances had hardly been shelled at all. A kilometer of altitude reduced to a mere 50 meters. No gunsmoke in the air. Less blood and rot steeping in stagnant water, though not none.

I took quick stock of the situation. My command platoon except-- My command platoon had made the transition with me (due to proximity?). A brief inspection of our surroundings bore out my initial assessment: some damaged buildings, some flooding, and... an area a few blocks north where the street, a street sign, most of a restaurant, several people, and a hideous centaur abomination looked to have been replaced with glass replicas? What? Shelving that, a quick spin revealed unfamiliar terrain in all directions. Ocean to the east, which could be Ildoa, Ispagna, Dacia, Albion, Asia, Africa, Australia, or the Americas, but certainly couldn't be anywhere within a thousand kilometers of the Eastern Front.

The crack of a gunshot below caught my attention. I was moving before I properly registered the sound, spinning in an unpredictable corkscrew while a pair of decoys broke out in other directions, inlays on my own rifle lighting with magic as I prepared an explosive formula. The gunshot itself was nothing impressive, tinny and quiet, pistol caliber most likely. No threat to an aerial mage unless the shooter was themselves a mage, but no point in taking chances. I noted with displeasure that my men had only just started to move, nearly a quarter second after the shot, which meant they hadn't yet spun up full reflex enhancement a full 3 seconds after our mysterious transposition. Below me, I caught sight of the shooter, fortunately not aiming at me.

A girl in a purple catsuit, of an age with-- a couple years older than me, gunning down a... naked, deformed teenage boy, half covered in bugs? Zombies, Being X? Are you truly so bereft of imagination? She took a second shot as I observed, then a third, though the first would have killed a normal man in half a minute. Next to her stood a tall teenage boy in some ridiculous jester's outfit, and another girl all covered in black and gray and more bugs was jogging in towards the pair from a couple blocks east. I came to a snap decision.

<"Maintain overwatch, but do not fire unless fired upon. This is not the Federation, and you are not to open a new front without a damn good reason."> I hesitated. <"But if you are fired upon, don't hold back. You are not to die while the Fatherland still has need of your services. Lieu-- Major Weiss, with me.">

We swept down towards the girl in purple (she had the gun, and so was presumably the most important), rifles slung but mage shells at full power, stopping at a hover a couple feet above the ground.

"Hello? Miss?"

She startled badly, turning quickly and raising her pistol. I felt no building magic, so I remained stoic. The boy, on the other hand, pointed a scepter of some sort at me and did start forming a weak spell, but the girl stopped him before I had to. Interestingly, both wore concealing masks, a custom I couldn't recall ever hearing about.

"Wait! They're real people, not clones or projections."

Well, that certainly raised more questions than it answered. Albish, which could be awkward. I really should have checked the street signs before approaching potential citizens of an enemy nation. Though, I thought the accent sounded more American than Albish proper. A port city on the East Coast of the Unified States? Even I'd recognize New Amsterdam, so... Baltimore? Boston? Probably not the right names in this world. No real reason to speculate when I could just ask, I suppose. Fortunately, I had studied English diligently in my first life -- it's an important business skill, especially for those coveted executive positions -- and I had even taken a course on it at the war college in this life, so no need to dissemble. As for the words themselves: Clones? Projections? Better than zombies, at least.

"Also, they'd kick our asses," she continued while I reflected.

"Yeah, they look it," the boy replied. "You really pull off the child soldier aesthetic. Nice touch on the makeup."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Makeup? Aesthetic?"

"Yeah, uh, Regent, that's not makeup. You've got a bit of dried blood kind of all over the right side of your face. And your costume. And your rifle."

"Ah. Well, I'm fine. It's not my blood."

I ignored Regent's muttered "didn't think it was."

"Hopefully I'll have a chance to clean up soon. As for my 'child soldier aesthetic'," I continued, a little acerbically. "I am Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, commander of the Salamander Kampfgruppe of the Imperial military. This is my subordinate Major Matheus Johan Weiss, of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion."

Her eyes had widened at first sight of my face -- because I wasn't wearing a mask? -- and continued to widen through my introduction. In the end, they were comically wide, almost like--

"We were just transported here from our station on the Eastern Front by unknown means. Perhaps you could shed some light on the situation? Or at least tell us our present location?"

She hesitated for long enough I nearly turned to the boy, but finally replied "I'm Tattletale, and this is Regent. And that's Skitter coming in."

Sobriquets, to go with the masks?

"This is Brockton Bay in Massachusetts on Earth Bet... which means nothing to you."

Brockton Bay didn't ring a bell, but I hadn't had much time in this life to spend on geography a continent away. If this is Massachusetts, this city is probably Boston. She was smirking a little now.

"Well, I don't think you'd want it sugarcoated. This isn't your Earth. As for how you got here..." She tapped her chin. "Ah, this guy. Wondered why his power didn't do anything." She gave the deformed corpse a little kick. "He was a clone of a cape named Scrub, whose power let him swap out regions of space for their dimensional alternates. Clones get variations on the original's powers, and this one got the power to pluck capes from alternate dimensions. Probably some nuance to it, but that's the basic rundown."

OK...

"Cape?"

"You know, person with superpowers, like you and me? 'Mages' in your parlance, I guess, though that terminology is going to get you laughed at here. Powers aren't magic."

That almost made sense, weird semantic quibbles aside, but I certainly didn't know of any spells like the ones ascribed to this Scrub. And Tattletale hadn't used any formulae that I could detect, even when shooting the clone. Skitter was doing something, probably related to the swarm of bugs following her around. Oh, and attacking that clone, probably. Nonetheless, I nodded my understanding. I glanced at Weiss to check how he was taking all this. Lips a little thin, but stoic on the whole. Good. Better than I took my first dimension hop, though the circumstances were a little different.

"Sad to say I don't know of any way to get you guys home. Don't think any variant on Scrub's power would do it, and I think we got them all now anyway."

My nascent smile died without me having to suppress it. To my surprise, I felt pretty conflicted about my sudden retirement from military life. Losing out on my pension and saved wages stung, naturally, but my personal safety is paramount. Can't spend a pfennig of it if I'm shot dead defending some shit hole village while our useless nationalist 'allies' failed to even distract-- I blinked a couple times. Ah, that's it: I just regret missing out on the opportunity to kill communists. I'd fulfilled my promise already, but killing communists is its own reward. Not that I hadn't killed... rather a lot of them, recently, but I'd hardly run out. Not when you factored in my functional range as an aerial mage of several hundred kilometers, at least. And it hurts my professional pride to leave a job half done, especially one so noble as the total destruction of... as that. Well, going back wasn't an option at the moment, anyway, so I could examine the pros and cons later. But of course, the Argent Silver couldn't just leave it at that.

"And abandon my duty to the Fatherland in its hour--" A cough from behind and to the right. "decade of greatest need? But I suppose I can leave that discussion to the proper authorities. Do you know..."

It was only then that it occurred to me that I should not have heard a cough from behind and to the right. I glanced back and saw... Weiss. Obviously. Though that was not where he was supposed to be hovering. I barely restrained myself from snapping at him. Not the time.

"Excuse me. Do you know who involuntary dimensional travelers are supposed to report to? A 'Bet' implies an 'Aleph', so I assume there's a process in place. Oh, and there isn't a mask-wearing custom on our Earth. Could you please explain--"

Explosion above me, then another in close succession. Not aimed at me, clearly, so no need for immediate need for evasion. I sent out a couple decoys regardless as I rapidly accelerated towards Granz, mage shell broken by the second attack. Koenig had already primed an explosive spell and fired by the time I saw the attacker: a helicopter. I... really should have noticed the modern cars. Barely been on this world for a minute and I'm already making mistakes. But this one wouldn't doom me. The helicopter exploded without any further fuss, fragments raining down onto the street below. The bulk of the fuselage hit a gas station, which at least didn't immediately go up in flames. But that wasn't the end of the attack: a mage charged straight at Granz's decoy. He was dressed as appears to be custom in this world, in a ridiculous Ancient Greek getup, boots, shield, and spear writhing with white lightning. He stabbed the decoy without hesitation but seemed taken aback when it flickered and faded. Is aerial mage training truly so lacking even in the 21st century? Well, I can't really complain about my enemy courteously waiting for me to kill him. I sent my own decoy charging in while I slipped around behind him, priming both an explosive spell and a mage blade. I made my decoy juke his stab (So slow! Surely no one would send an aerial mage incapable of full reflex enhancement into combat?) only for him to manifest an active barrier from his shield. What? It was a strong barrier, I'll admit, certainly better than I could manage when I was just starting out, but mage blades are made to break barriers. If I had just gone in the decoy's place, he'd already be dead. Hope he enjoys his bonus 4 seconds, I guess.

I fire the explosive spell first, timed such that it barely impacts my own mage shell as I rush in behind it and bisect the... mutilated corpse? He... didn't even have a mage shell up, did he? I can't even enjoy this victory. I feel like I just beat up a little kid playing with Dad's boxing gloves. Then again, he, a grown man, showed no hesitation in trying to kill me, to all appearances a little kid. You reap what you sow, I suppose. Well, no further threats were presenting themselves, and it looked like Tattletale and Skitter were getting into a heated argument. Better square things away here before my convenient information source gets too distracted. Regent was looking up at me and clapping, so there was that.

<"Good job, everyone. Granz, status?">

<"I'm fine, ma'am. Shell back up in 3. Careful of the rocket artillery, though. They're guided somehow, and have proximity fuses; I'd be dead if they'd had a third.">

<"Noted. No attempt at communication before engagement?">

<"No ma'am. I attempted to hail the aircraft as soon as I saw it, and they responded with artillery.">

<"Very well. You're free to destroy any artillery platforms, anti-air guns, aircraft, or aerial mages you spot. As for the shells, you ought to be able to take them out with optical formulae if you see them coming. And you will see them coming, now that you're aware of the threat. I will not accept any excuses on the matter. Same rules of engagement for other ground targets, for now. I'm going to try to get more intel out of the locals. Weiss, stay here to provide support in case of further attacks. Oh, and fill the others in on what we've already gotten out of Tattletale.">

<"Ma'am, what if you're attacked on the ground? Shouldn't someone be in place to provide direct support?"> Granz chipped in.

I hesitated. It was the right tactical call. It was the call I'd made in the first place. But... No buts. I can't let... recent events throw me off my game.

<"Very well. How's your Albish, Granz?">

<"Not good, Ma'am.">

<"Well, it looks like we're stuck here, so you'll need some practice. Come on down.">

If I was taking anyone, it would be Granz. If there'd been a third... Well, there wasn't. I briefed him on the situation as Tattletale had explained it as we came down. I caught the tail end of Tattletale's argument before they noticed us.

"... but they're also soldiers, Skitter! Of course they shoot back! It's on the PRT for not checking first!"

I coughed to gain their attention. "You know why we were attacked without warning?"

Skitter glared and the bugs around her buzzed ominously. Not that they could anything at all to a properly trained aerial mage, but it was still a little creepy. She didn't deign to respond.

Tattletale did: "They assumed you were projections, almost certainly. One of the Genesis clones can make several weak Alexandria packages, though they don't look quite human and the uniforms and guns would be new." She took a long breath. "Not that that matters anymore since you killed Dauntless and wrecked a helicopter containing 3 PRT agents."

I tried to restrain myself. I really did. Skitter looked angry enough as is, and she constituted a full third of people I met on this world who hadn't attacked on sight. I blame stress and sleep deprivation.

"Dauntless?" I snorted. "Dauntless is the name of a battlecruiser, not a mage so incompetent he'd compare unfavorably to a Free Francois colonial conscript."

Well, it got a laugh out of Regent at least, though I'm getting the impression that's not too hard. Skitter had a hand on her knife and the bugs were getting distractingly loud. Tattletale just looked put upon. I tried to pivot back to a productive line of conversation.

"But I suppose it's not my place to question your customs, at least until I fully understand them. Who was Dauntless? Who are the PRT? And what sort of follow-up should I expect?"

This time Skitter did respond. "Dauntless was a hero. He protected this city for years. He survived Leviathan and Echidna and he would only have gotten stronger if you hadn't killed him for no reason! And then you come down here to mock him for it!"

By the end, she was nearly shouting. The bugs 'speaking' in time was a nice touch. Nonetheless, I shot her an unimpressed look.

"No reason? He tried to kill Granz. He might even have succeeded if not for the decoy. Oh, and he tried to kill me too, but there was never any chance of that. You can't go into battle and expect your enemies to spare you when you won't grant them the same privilege." I paused, then forced myself to continue. "I... apologize for the mockery. I've been under a lot of stress lately, and I was unaware of his service to the city."

Her response was less appeased and more deflated, but close enough.

Tattletale jumped back in: "Well, what's done is done. What's important going forward is that you've permanently burned your bridges with the heroes. Lucky you met us, right?"

I turned my unimpressed look on her.

"You still haven't answered my other questions. And 'heroes'?"

A suspicion was sneaking up on me.

"The local cape scene is divided into heroes, basically cape police, and villains, those of us who don't get along with the heroes for one reason or another. Oh, and Parian, who's neutral. The PRT is the heroes' unpowered support. As for follow-up, the local Protectorate, the government hero team, is out of fliers, and it'll take a while for them to get in touch with New Wave, the local independent team. Getting anywhere fast via ground transport in this city is a dicey proposition right now. They've got one more helicopter, but they're not going to send it out alone after what you did to the last one, and they're not going to pack a bunch of vulnerable capes onto it for you to take out all at once either. So long as you find somewhere to hunker down within the next hour or so, you're good short term."

...Suspicion confirmed. I live in a comic book world. I can't leave. This is my life now. Being X, I thought you were going to torment me with trials, not cliches! Oh, and three minutes in and I've already killed Superman, permanently estranging myself from law-abiding society. I glanced at Dauntless's top half, which had landed in a bush nearby, ridiculous crested Greek helmet still poking up proudly. Well, not Superman. Maybe Spiderman? No one too important. But fuck, why didn't I at least try to capture him alive? Sure, he could have detonated his orb, but that's hardly a serious threat if you know to watch for the signs. And this is a modern world, presumably built on the principles of reason and prosperity through free exchange like that of my first life. There's no reason to assume my enemies here would be possessed of the same insane fanaticism with which I've become so familiar. Not killing an enemy just... didn't occur to me. I suppose even a rational, peace-loving person like myself can develop some bad habits after half a decade of war. Just another step in Being X's plot, in the end. Well, as Tattletale said, what's done is done, and as much as I wish I could just stop taking this absurd situation seriously, the danger was real enough.

"And the reason you 'don't get along with' law enforcement is crime, presumably?"

She shrugged.

"Maybe. Never killed a hero, though."

Well, fair enough. If I couldn't integrate into law-abiding society, criminal society will have to do. I'm not happy about it, but I've borne greater insults to my dignity and principles for the sake of security.

"Anti-air assets? Magic detectors? Missile platforms? And couldn't they just bring in reinforcements from outside the city?"

She narrowed her eyes at me for some reason.

"No anti-air the way you're thinking, though maybe Kid Win could put something together. Nothing too impressive, and it'll be nonlethal. I don't know what a magic detector is, but I'm certain they don't have any. As for reinforcements, they just don't do that too often. I have a few ideas about that, but they'd take a while to get into. For now, just assume they're stuck with local capes and maybe 3 or 4 permanent transfers to replace their losses unless you really piss them off. I think the only platform they have for those small air to air missiles is the other helicopter, which can only carry two, which isn't enough, apparently. They had some cruise missiles at the rig, not sure whether they survived Leviathan. They can call in a strike from another city if it comes to it, though, and they will if you make too much of nuisance of yourselves."

I hid my wince, but Tattletale's eyes still narrowed further. I almost asked about helicopters and cruise missiles, since Tanya had never encountered those concepts, but I sensed that would be a mistake. Instead, I went on the offense.

"You claim to be a mage, but I've yet to sense you cast a single spell through two fights. What can you do, exactly?"

That was met with a wide smirk for a second, as though to let me know she knew what I was doing.

"'Parahuman' or 'cape,' never 'mage.' No one casts spells, because magic doesn't exist."

"Oh, sorry." I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her. "What can you do with your superpowers, then, because that's so much less ridiculous than magic?"

Another snort from Regent, another piercing look from Tattletale.

"Enhanced intuition. You know, like superpowered Nancy Drew."

"Who?" I asked, a beat late.

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Work Header

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death

Fandoms:

Parahumans Series - Wildbow幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil - Carlo Zen (Light Novels)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil (Anime)

Characters:

Additional Tags:

Language:

English

Collections:

Why...(°ロ°) ! (pages and pages of google docs links)░(°◡°)░

Stats:

Published:2023-11-02Updated:2025-01-20Words:211,752Chapters:46/?Comments:136Kudos:598Bookmarks:229Hits:37,663

A Young Girl's Criminal Record

TorontoTowers

Chapter 2: 1.2

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

-- Lisa Wilbourne --

"Who?" she asked, already knowing she was caught out, rising panic obvious.

Oh, she had a good poker face, but not good enough to fool my power. Not nearly. I capitalized on the moment of weakness.

"Cut the crap. You're not what you pretend to be."

My power charted the panic as it peaked and fell, subsiding into resignation. I started to slip into a predatory smile when my power finally elected to fill me in on her thoughts instead of her feelings.

Willing to murder you and your team to silence you. Certain she can kill you before you say anything too incriminating. Will not allow you outside of her effective range alive unless she's certain of your silence.

What the fuck, power? What the fuck, Tanya? Who thinks like that?

Alexandria, Coil, Kaiser, T--

OK, not a productive line. What great company you keep, Tanya! Well, fuck. I glanced at her silent compatriot.

Very poor grasp on English. Grieving. Intensely loyal to Tanya. Will back Tanya's play without question.

Double fuck. Why'd I have to poke at her? It's not like I didn't already know how dangerous and unstable she is.

Chronic need to prove intellectual superiority via--

That's enough of that. Not the time to retread old ground. This isn't working. I need a new direction to send my power in. I let in a trickle of insight. Why is she willing to kill me to protect this secret? Haven't I been helpful?

Clinging to military hierarchy as a source of stability and security. Believes secret threatens subordinates' loyalty.

OK, orphan, adoptive family(?), abandonment issues, recent loss, basic stuff. Still a bit extreme, though, but I guess that fit neatly into the whole Tanya package. I glanced at the 'intensely loyal' subordinate. Probably not even true, but it's not a rational judgment. Not going to convince her here and now.

Noticed your panic. Surmised that you understand her intentions. Impressed by your power. Considering what assurances she'd need to let you live. Considering how to secure your loyalty.

OK, definite improvement.

"Pretend to be?" she asked, giving me an out.

I didn't miss the way her hand tightened on her rifle stock.

"You know, the soldierly professionalism thing. Let out that sassy bitch we both know is your true self."

That actually offended her. Really? Miss 'Dauntless is the name of a battlecruiser' doesn't like being called sassy? But she didn't kill me, so good enough. Now, to arrange a private conversation. I reduce the trickle of insight to the barest drip-feed. Need to conserve as much as possible for that conversation.

"Well, no reason to hang around here. How about we all come back to my hideout, maybe get something to eat?"

Taylor didn't like that.

"What the fuck, Tattletale? She murdered Dauntless right in front of us!"

Now is not the time for your issues, Taylor!

"Self defense, not murder. I'd happily turn myself in and await my vindication in court, but unfortunately the Empire maintains exclusive jurisdiction over its soldiers even in foreign nations in absence of a Status of Forces Agreement, so the local justice system has no legal authority to prosecute me."

Taylor scoffed. I gave that line all the attention it deserved.

"They get kidnapped from their world and immediately get attacked with lethal force. What were they supposed to do?" I sighed. "Look, it's a fucked up situation, I get that. But they're about to get screwed over by the system for something that isn't really their fault. Besides, we need all the friends we can get if we're going to succeed in our plans."

Was that laying it on a bit too thick? Nah, not for Taylor. Her resigned "fine" confirmed my judgment.

"And why your hideout? We finally find a fun one and you're just going to steal her away? I want the sassy Nazi magical girl."

I flinched away from anticipated blood splatter, but none came. OK, her fuse isn't quite that short. Still, Alec, don't test the landmine by stepping on it!

I glance back at Tanya. Yeah she does not look happy. But she's... yeah, pretending not to know what a 'Nazi' and/or 'magical girl' is. Actually, her need to keep that secret might be what actually saved Alec's life. Eh, I need every drop of my power for myself right now. Good luck, Alec.

"I'd be happy to, Tattletale."

She muttered a few sentences in German. Tinker tech radios? That'd be a huge deal in World War 1. (Or whatever the equivalent and her world is. The rifles are distinctive, and limit the 203rd's origin to a pretty narrow window in time if firearm development continued in their world as in ours.) And her battalion got 4? The dead one probably had one too. Lot of a very limited resource to spend on one unit. Elite unit? I involuntarily glance at Dauntless's upper torso, intestines spilling out of the bush and onto the street. God, I hope they're the elites. If not, I don't want to meet them.

"I have things to do. We'll talk later."

Yeah, Taylor would need some handling later. If there was a later. Well, maybe it will work out on its own. Best I point them at Coil before he realizes they're in play, and Taylor will forgive a lot for Dinah's saviors.

We start walking and I realize Matheus and the other one aren't planning on coming down.

"Uh, Tanya? Are your men not coming?"

"Oh, I told them to follow."

"In the air?"

"Obviously. I'm not going to just cede local air superiority without a fight." Seeing my continued confusion, she elaborated "A mage in the air has a far greater capacity to observe and target both air and ground assets, and in turn makes a much harder target due to their speed and additional axis of movement. Further, I've instructed them to fly low enough they should be able to sense any grounded mages spinning up their mage shells, flight spells, or reflex enhancement formulae and with a little luck eliminate the threat before they're ready. Grounded aircraft are even more vulnerable."

Excellent tactical reasoning, Tanya... for a war zone.

"Eliminate? Look, the heroes are going to figure out Dauntless's death was mostly their fuck up sooner or later. You kill another hero, though, and they're not going to hold back."

"Oh? You think they're reasonable enough to forgive that misunderstanding so long as I don't exacerbate it?"

Yes. They wouldn't be happy about it, but they'd give up more than that for you four.

I snorted. "Would you forgive someone who killed one of your comrades, whatever the circumstance?"

Her rifle stock creaked. Loudly. I was a little afraid it would shatter in her hand. OK, that was the right lever, but let's not pull it any further just yet.

Who was this girl? Well, 80% sure it was a girl. It's an important question. More important in her absence than she ever was in life, for sure. Through all my interactions with the 203rd I've been building a profile, a portrait painted in negative space. It wasn't enough, not yet. I let up on my power, just a bit. Who was she to Tanya? Love interest? Favorite pet human? The first killing machine she assembled with her own hands, and took pride in maintaining ever since?

Her friend.

Ouch. Way to make me feel like a heel, power. Back into the dark with you. I glanced over at Tanya, still lost elsewhere, and then over to the silent one, who still had no clue what we were talking about. A step behind and to the left, this time. Matheus probably clued him in on his fuck up so he wouldn't repeat it. Had I misjudged her? I had Tanya pegged as a sociopath from her second sentence. Exceptional self-possession and remarkable charisma, (even, as when she mentioned her duty to her 'Fatherland,' she in fact cared not a whit about the subject,) all combined with a frankly frightening intellect for a 12 or 13 year old, but the kind of person who cracked an economics textbook when she wanted to learn how to understand people, and stunningly ruthless in a fight. And disturbingly casual about it, too. She went from civil conversation to murder and back in about 20 seconds, and nearly half that was updating her team's orders. Oh, and she's still half planning to murder me over some secret. Definite mark against her.

But she was taking this loss hard. It didn't fit. Perhaps she was simply damaged by years of war? Toss an 8 or 9 year old into the trenches, and what comes out? Probably a corpse most of the time, cape or not. A lot of parahuman researchers like to reduce a cape's personality to their trigger event, but I really doubt that was her greatest trauma. And then there was the secret. Knowledge she shouldn't have. Important things, like cruise missiles and Nazis, but also trivia, like kids' detective novels published most of a decade after her time and translated into German who knows when and the magical girl genre, which had only really existed for a few years in the 90s. Precognition, on top of all her other powers? Maybe something subtler, like a thinker power that allowed her to learn about things from the behavior of nearby people? A decent ace in the hole, but why would that bother her men? Maybe something wilder, like time travel? But why send a child back to fight in a war? I really couldn't afford to burn more of my power on the question, not while my life depended on the outcome of our next conversation, and possibly on whether I could convince her I didn't know the details. The curiosity still burned in me.

By the time she responded, voice flat, I'd nearly forgotten where I'd left the conversation.

"I take your point."

More German muttering, then silence. I let it sit.

Notes:

A\N: So, uh, sorry if you didn't pick up on those hints about Visha last chapter. Lisa's not going to dance around the issue in her own head. But don't worry! Soon the 203rd will be holding auditions for a substitute Visha! I'm certain the resulting relationship will be completely healthy for all involved!

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A Young Girl's Criminal Record

TorontoTowers

Chapter 3: 1.3

Chapter Text

-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

We soon arrived at Tattletale's 'hideout.'

"A disaster relief shelter? Not very hidden, is it?"

She startled at the sound of my voice. She'd been kind enough to let me stew in silence the last several minutes of our walk, despite not knowing the reason for it. Well, maybe she guessed. No secret that soldiers die in war, after all.

"Ah, but that's what makes it perfect. What sort of supervillain spends her off hours providing shelter to the dispossessed?"

I again reflected that I didn't want to live in a world where that sort of reasoning made sense, but since when has that mattered?

"Very well. One moment."

<"Weiss, Koenig, we've arrived. Come down discreetly a couple blocks away, then walk over. Everyone, disguise your uniforms with illusions. Don't drop your mage shells and maintain low level reflex enhancement.">

Of course, if Tattletale was lying about the lack of magic detectors, these 'disguises' would in fact draw a great deal more attention. If so, better to learn that now. If she was lying about that, she was probably lying about other things, but the authorities almost certainly wouldn't move straight to shelling a relief camp, and, if Dauntless was indicative of the quality of the local 'heroes,' we could deal with whatever else they might send.

If it came to that I resolved to kill Tattletale first. If she can truly read my intentions, the one bright spot was the ease of making credible threats. I looked over at her and noted a gratifyingly wide eyed stare. Well, gratifying in the moment. The implications were disturbing. How could I negotiate with someone who could effectively read my mind? If I depended on her for information, how could I ever be sure she wasn't just telling me what she needed to get me to do what she wanted? Maybe she wasn't worth the--

"Let's eat! The cafeteria here is nothing special, but I get the impression 'nothing special' would be an improvement for you."

Well, I could always kill her after lunch. Soon enough the five of us entered the campus. Tattletale lead us past the reception area into a sparsely occupied outdoor cafeteria. I immediately noted a pair of... ugh, I guess I have to call them 'henchmen.' Henchmen with slung assault rifles. No masks, so probably not mages. Rapid fire, even from the relatively piddly intermediate cartridge those guns fired, certainly could break a mage shell. It would take 2 seconds, maybe? I had to interpolate because guns of that sort hadn't yet been invented on my previous world. Regardless, plenty of time to react.

Of course, hiding your mages as normal soldiers to stage an ambush is an obvious tactic. I felt no magic from them, which at this distance meant they could at most be hiding only some very light internal spells. Given that we're keeping our spells up, we should have a decisive advantage if they began any serious casting. I watched my men and made sure they noted the threat and came to the correct conclusions regarding it. They wouldn't know the particulars of those guns, but they should still be able to draw the right answer. Thankfully, I could practically see the same thoughts pass behind each of their eyes. I gave them a nod and a smile.

From the regular patrons, we attracted some glances, but really not too many. I'd disguised my uniform as a nondescript, somewhat grimy hoodie and a pair of similarly grimy jeans, as appeared to be the dominant local fashion. The rifles were a little unusual, but not too much; most of the people here were armed in some fashion.

The food was about what you'd expect: dry cereal, gruel, canned goods. And Tattletale was right, it was incredible. If I never see another sausage in my life it'll be too soon. They even had coffee, though it turned out to be so abysmal I couldn't finish my cup. And to my muted surprise, I discovered I was famished. When had I last ate? The recent past was a bit of a blur. Not the complete blank I'd expected, but little details and the precise chronology were hard to pin down. I suppose I'll have to keep closer track myself, now that-- now that no one's going to do it for me.

After we'd taken the edge off, I restarted the conversation.

"If we're to integrate into this community, we need to know more about the local distribution of forces. Tell me about these 'heroes' and 'villains.' Who is Leviathan, and who is growing these clones?"

And so she launched into a frankly bizarre series of explanations. Mages dressing up in silly costumes and calling themselves things like 'Miss Militia' and 'Laser Dream?' Well, it's a comic book world, I suppose there's no way out of the basic conventions of the genre. Though even if Being X had arranged for our kidnapping to the most absurd world he could find, surely there must still be some internal logic to its absurdity? I couldn't bring myself to care enough to ask.

More odd was how she described their 'superpowers,' as though each mage could cast only one or two spells. And most of these spells I'd have no idea how to recreate. I'm no expert in magical theory, but I like to think I have a good grasp on the fundamentals. And on the practical application of magical violence I can claim without too much boasting to have been among the very best on my previous world. But turning dogs into elephant sized monsters, and then turning them back? I hadn't the faintest clue how to accomplish that.

Well, this world has had several additional decades to research obscure spells, I guess. But why would you even want to? If you can perform complicated biological transformations at range, surely it would be easier to just turn your enemies into corpses directly? Or outside of combat, wouldn't an animal more used to labor, like a horse or donkey, make more sense? Though, frankly, a modern world shouldn't have much use for beasts of burden of any sort. And these 'Undersiders' used them as their principal means of transport? Why not just fly? Well, I had an idea about that. I cut off Tattletale's meandering digression into the Pelhams' relative capabilities with the four simple spells that apparently comprised their whole repertoire.

"Oh, I think I get it. All the A and B rank mages are conscripted, right? You're talking about the dregs, who are forced to specialize and practice intensely to manage a couple combat viable spells? Perhaps you have specialized orbs, too?"

It made a lot of sense. It explained the deplorable state of training I'd observed in the local mages, the variety in their 'powers,' and the comparatively tiny amount of magic I'd felt from Regent and Skitter. Well, I'm still not sure why someone would choose to specialize in some of these spells, but I guess people make odd choices sometimes. In a capitalist society, it's naturally up to the customer to decide what they want, and the magical researchers and orb developers simply provide in return for a tidy profit.

The expense would have been exorbitant in my last life, but perhaps computers could streamline the process into something manageable for a wealthy individual or small organization to sponsor a promising young C rank mage or two. Tattletale had said something about corporate teams, hadn't she? All and all I felt pretty pleased with my deduction. Weiss's increasingly baffled expression had also morphed into understanding. Koenig still looked confused, but I think his Albish just wasn't good enough to keep up. Granz wasn't even trying, electing instead to focus on our surroundings. I approved, though we'd really need to all master the local language sooner or later.

But surely they could leave a few true mages behind to maintain order? The quantity and relative success of magical criminals Tattletale had described to me couldn't be good for the war effort. Well, Dauntless was probably B rank. Absolute bottom of the barrel in terms of skill, but shuffling off the worst of the lot to man the home front made some sense. Of course, it'd make more sense to do the opposite: award some tiny number of safe peacekeeping roles to the best of the best. You lose some aces that way, but the bulk of your conscripts will work their hardest in training, instead of slacking off for a chance to get out of the war they want no part in, only to find themselves thrust onto the front lines anyway. But I know better than anyone that military bureaucracy simply doesn't think that way, so it wasn't evidence against this theory. Oh, and this could solve my Tattletale issue neatly, too. I obviously couldn't trust her not to use her 'power' on me, but if she could surrender her orb while we spoke, I wouldn't have to trust. Actually, if I can get that specialized orb and learn to use it, I wouldn't really need Tattletale at all.

Tattletale just stared at me while I mentally patted myself on the back.

Finally, she responded "No, I think you actually don't get it. I'm not sure what a lot of what you just said means, but I'm still sure it was wrong in every particular."

Hmm. Perhaps she picked up on my last thought and now wanted to dissemble. I quirked an eyebrow and waited for her to elaborate.

She took a few seconds to put her thoughts together, then continued "OK, I'm going to walk you through the absolute basics so we can figure out where we lost common ground."

And so she did. Scion, the triumvirate, the endbringers, the (virtually nonexistent) role of parahumans in the military, trigger events, and prt power classifications. A lot of it was incredible, but a lot of it was also easily verified.

"Ser-- Weiss, go speak to some of these people. Try to confirm some of these details. Maintain your cover as a local, but it's fine to let them think you're weird or dumb."

Weiss gave me a put upon look. Koenig clapped him on the back.

"No need for that look, my friend. You were going to do it anyway, so it's good to get permission."

Weiss shook his head and got up as Granz guffawed and I suppressed a smile at the familiar antics. Good to see them in high spirits, after all the grim seriousness lately. I guess the prospect of a whole new world to put their mark on had the lovable war maniacs fired up. Tattletale just rolled her eyes.

"Why would I lie about things you could easily check?"

I snorted "You wouldn't, but only because you knew I would check. Therefore I have to check, even knowing your story will be confirmed."

Was that a bit of frustration I saw on her face? Confirmation my strategies to limit her advantage were working? I was considering the possibility of a double bluff when she interjected, now just looking irritated.

"You know we're not enemies, right? I want things from you, and you want things from me. Why not just collaborate for our mutual benefit?"

I considered her words while Koenig interjected this time, accent thick.

"Clearly. You are too lively to be enemy to the colonel."

The reply was essentially automatic while I continued to think.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, but I assure you I can handle threatening Tattletale myself."

"Yes ma'am."

It was... disturbing that Tattletale had to be the one to propose the commonsense arrangement. I put my suspicions aside for the moment. When had I begun to default to violence and threats to solve my all problems? Of course, there's no place for that sort of thinking in war. War is a matter of mutual detriment, not benefit, and my job as a soldier was just to ensure the enemy hurt worse. It's the role of diplomats to try to extract something of value out of the whole sordid mess, and the Empire didn't send A rank children off to become diplomats. But I'm free of the war now, and I'm not truly this child, who's known little else. Of course, Being X would not just allow me to put aside this persona and return to living in accordance with my principles, my first minutes on this world had already proven that, but... when did I stop trying?

I let that thought sit in my mind for a moment as I finally collected myself... and turned towards the cause of this little identity crisis. I could practically feel the smugness radiating off her. Oh, her poker face wasn't bad, but I'd played cards with-- Well, the smugness faded rapidly as she took in my expression. I'd known she was dangerous. I mean, obviously, I'd be an utter failure of an officer if I didn't understand how you could exploit intel to hurt someone. But this... even knowing she planned it, even knowing her words were a tool to control me, I couldn't make myself dismiss my realization.

We'd exchanged what, a hundred words? And she'd found a fault line in my mind I didn't know about, that I'm certain no one knew about. And was this the only one she found, which just so happened to work out to her benefit? Doubtful. What would the others do? I almost killed her then, before she could say another word, reflex enhancement rapidly building from the low level I was maintaining constantly to full combat readiness, little mage blades appearing over my fingernails.

Was I overreacting? Was I falling back on violence because it had become comfortable? Probably, but could I trust that judgment? To what extent could she plot out the course of my thoughts? Granz and Koenig, ever faithful, followed suit an instant later, not understanding the threat but trusting my judgment. But even so, something made me hesitate. Was I really going to kill some civilian, some kid because of how she spoke to me? I'd... killed civilians and kids before, but I'd had orders. My own back was to the wall. Well, maybe not always on orders. Things got chaotic in battle, and I can't guarantee there was never any collateral. Especially recently... the pursuit was a confusing mess, whole units turning on their commissars and fleeing into the Russy night. But I couldn't regret that, could I?

Still, this? No orders, no ambiguity, no promise, no noble cause to wipe away all stains. Just murdering a teenager over words. No, not yet. My safety and personal autonomy comes before my principles, always, but I could afford her one more chance to let me have both. I let my mage blades fade and slowly relaxed my reflex enhancement, causing Granz and Koenig to do the same. But I kept enough enhancement to watch Tattletale's poker face break in slow motion, only speaking to interrupt her as she tried to correct course.

"Every parahuman power is a weapon, isn't that what you said? Do that again and I will kill you. No more chances. Now, I think we need to have a brief conversation in private."

"I-"

"Don't speak. Just lead the way."

"Koenig, Granz, gather Weiss and position yourselves around the main building. If you feel me spin up my full combat suite, kill the guards and fly. I'll join you shortly. This shouldn't take long either way."

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A Young Girl's Criminal Record

TorontoTowers

Chapter 4: 1.4

Chapter Text

-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

She led me through a room stuffed to the brim with computers and henchmen (are they still henchmen if they're just doing office work for the supervillain?) and then into a bedroom. Actually, it was quite nice. I imagine the shelter's other residents were unaware of this luxury behind closed doors. Well, not my concern.

She turned to me and started, "W--"

Still reacting inhumanly fast, I immediately cut her off.

"I will let you know when you may speak."

She stopped, and for the next several seconds we just stared at each other. This isn't working. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, reaching for my lost equanimity. In half a minute I had found it, and half a minute later, I had the right line, the single way to thread this needle. I agonized over the choice for another half minute. It was worrying that despite it all, despite how very close her words had brought her to death, they had in the end been just the right thing to say. Was I still dancing to her tune?

Surely not, right? There was no way someone who could do that would waste their time scrabbling over territory in a disaster area. No way she would need to rely on me for her schemes when she could have suborned any of the local powers with a few minutes conversation. Being X may hate me personally, but Tattletale was just picking on me because I'm convenient. Well, it was probably Being X who had dropped me right in front of her. Still... I like to think I'm not the kind of person to jump at shadows, but she'd rattled me. And the matter was so easily resolved! All she can do is talk, and I can make sure she could never speak again. It wouldn't take a quarter second. I suppose in the end the only way to be certain whether this threat actually existed was to kill her, which would prove it to be simple paranoia, and wouldn't that be pathetic? One way forward, then.

"Mutual benefit, right? Very well. But the transactional relationship you seem to want is untenable. War is the continuation of diplomacy by other means, right? It follows that diplomacy is itself combat, and it's an arena in which I can't beat you, and why should I take a fight I know I'll lose? But if I move the fight to the grounds favorable to me, you die and neither of us benefit. So, let's not fight at all. Tie your fortunes to mine. Join my team."

I extend my hand. She did not move immediately to take it.

"You may speak."

"Tanya, what the hell? That's insane. You're insane. You can't go from promising my death with abso-fucking-lute conviction to offering to take me on as your protégé in 2 minutes."

I quirked an eyebrow, hand still extended.

"Perhaps you can't."

She reached up and rubbed her temples, eyes closing.

"Look, I see the logic. Ensure our incentives align and we both know we can trust each other's motives. But that's not enough. The position you're offering me is as a subordinate, not an equal partner. How can I trust you'll make the right calls?"

Well, fair enough.

"A major world power entrusted me with a battalion each of infantry, artillery, and aerial mages, plus a medium tank company. I did not disappoint them. My former command, the 203rd, enjoyed the lowest casualty rate per engagement of any mage unit in the war. On all sides, I'm told, but take Imperial Intelligence with a big grain of salt. I assure you I am more than qualified to manage a five person cape team."

She did not look impressed.

"New world, new threats. Even you can make mistakes in unfamiliar situations. What if the next person you decide is basically the Simurgh is Gallant? You kill him without provocation and we all get kill orders."

"Good reason to recruit a thinker, wouldn't you say? If I know I can trust you, I'll take your advice seriously."

"And the other option? I can refuse, right?"

"Of course. If you say no, we go our separate ways. You will not contact us and I won't hurt you. Simple. If I enslaved you, you'd naturally work against me, undermining me in subtle ways I can't counter. Exactly the situation I'm trying to avoid." I shook my head. "What sort of idiot would I have to be to put myself in that situation?"

Strangely, that was what did it. She grabbed my hand and gave it a good shake with a chuckle.

"Yeah, what sort of idiot?"

"So, first order of business, who is it that you need me to kill?"

She gave me an exasperated look.

"When did I say I needed you to kill someone?"

This time I allowed myself to roll my eyes at her.

"You said you wanted something from me. You know where my talents lie. Unless you wanted me to do your taxes?"

"No, you're completely right. But that's not the first order of business, boss."

"Oh?"

"I've got a working shower in here. All the hot water you could want."

My eyes narrowed. Now, this was serious.

"Where?"

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A Young Girl's Criminal Record

TorontoTowers

Chapter 5: 1.5

Chapter Text

-- Lisa Wilbourne --

An hour later, I sat at my desk, taking notes on my laptop as Tanya paced and dictated. I'd changed into my civvies while she washed up, surmising she wouldn't appreciate me making a big deal about unmasking. I'd offered my real (fake) name, and gotten a distracted nod in return.

Freshly scrubbed and swimming in some of my clothes, rifle propped up by the wall, she looked a lot less Bonesaw, thank God. Though her attitude had always kept that association mostly in check. She looked kind of adorable, almost, if you ignored the calluses on her hands, her coarse, gravelly voice, and the pitiless, unnatural intellect lighting her ice blue eyes. Well, maybe she'd look adorable if I didn't know what she'd done, what she was ready to do at any moment. And only saw her from a distance. And didn't use my power. Oh well. She at least didn't bother pretending to not know what the computer was, which I appreciated. Even if she wasn't willing to talk about it, she knew I knew something, and that made things go much more smoothly.

"... weight and recoil aren't nearly as important for aerial mages but don't overdo it. But the most important factors are sturdiness and reliability. Even with a mage blade formula to ease the passage and a good cleaning afterward, circumstances permitting, getting shoved through a rib cage or skull at a relative speed of several hundred kilometers per hour is rough on a gun. All steel construction, ideally, with a hefty bayonet lug. Even then, buy extras. You'll also need to find someone capable of performing a silver inlay from the top of the grip up to a half-circle over where the projectile sits in the chamber and all down the sides of the barrel. In the meantime, get a couple thousand rounds of 7.92×57mm Mauser to tide us over."

Thousand? Tide us over? Just how many people are you planning to kill, Tanya?

"That many, boss?"

"Ammo is cheap, but running out of ammo is not. And you go through far more rounds in training than you ever will in combat. Well, off the Front, anyway. And we'll want submachine guns for inside work. Same considerations, just smaller and smaller caliber. Get yourself one, too. A handgun is fine if you need something concealable in your civilian persona, but the cape costume already marks you as dangerous. Might as well have the firepower to go with it."

That's... not how that works. I'd already considered and rejected the notion of trying to explain the role of guns in cape culture, and how I can only really get away with the pistol because I'm a squishy thinker. I didn't need my power to tell me there was just no possible way to convince this little girl to give up her security blanket/murder implement. Which was lucky, because I'm just about tapped out, pain already making it a little hard to focus. Because I spent all my reserves on a 'conversation' that, it turned out, for the most part, neither required nor permitted my participation. And somehow emerged from the experience with even less understanding of the thinker headache in human form than when I started. And an agreement to follow the orders of the insane tween literal fucking gun-wizard from another dimension. But hey, Coil is so fucking dead. Got to take my wins where I can find them. My old plan of just tossing Taylor at him seems kind of anemic in retrospect.

Well, I guess if I'm going to be running around with a team loaded down with all the highly illegal military hardware I can afford, I really might as well have some myself. And how had I ended up on the hook for all this, again? Oh, right: "What, you're willing to bet your life on this team, but not your money? Insanity. Or is that you think I'm trying to rob you? Naturally not. You'll receive a double share of all team dividends until your outlay is made whole, plus some reasonable compensation for the use of your capital."

"Language tutors for Granz and Koenig. We need them up to speed as soon as possible, at least on the basics. Trying to give orders in multiple languages during a firefight is a recipe for disaster."

Where had the orphan child soldier developed her fixation on economics? I think I had a good theory on the why and the how of it: poor little Tanya must have found people so confusing, reptile that she is, and economics purports to describe human behavior in terms that cold reptile brain can understand. She'd have jumped in with both feet, and rapidly built her whole world view around it. But she didn't just reinvent it from whole cloth. She's hardly that smart, and, anyway, she uses all the right terminology. In English, no less. So where? Did the orphanage that couldn't afford to properly feed her stock a copy of The Wealth of Nations in their extensive library? Was civilian economics a focus at the Kaiserreich's militarized Hogwarts knockoff? Or, as I was beginning to strongly suspect, did it come with her mysterious future knowledge? If so, that was an important clue. It implied she had some control over the knowledge she'd received. But fuck, for all I know she just disemboweled a chicken and used her no-shit actual magical powers to just divine the secrets of Market Capitalism from its innards.

"A harness for you, with handles by the neck and lower back. Though, make sure either one can take twice your full weight in an emergency."

I winced. My new look was going to be a recipe for disaster.

"And see about acquiring some of those bottled superpowers you mentioned."

"What? Why would you need... Oh."

"Right. The four of us are not parahumans. And if we ever get to the point of mass testing for magical potential, any mages we find probably won't be parahumans, either."

If there's anyone who doesn't need more powers...

"Well, I don't really have any clue how to get in touch with the evil shadow conspiracy that sells them. Unless you want me to shoot Alexandria an email, I guess."

Her silence made me glance over. Oh, uh, should not have offered that. Not even as a joke.

Fortunately, she eventually responded, "Not just yet. I'd rather remain below her notice until I've worked out a counter."

I breathed a sigh of relief. A counter to Alexandria? Good luck with that, Tanya.

"Probably outside our budget, anyway."

"Hmm. What about stealing them from other groups? Foolish to keep a stockpile around, but even one could be a big help. Look for highly profitable organizations with commensurately many strong, loyal capes."

So, groups we definitely don't want to steal from? Sure, I'll get right on that.

"Spare uniforms are a must. I understand it'll be hard to replicate them exactly, but do your best."

Er, what?

"Uh, boss? Why do you need uniforms? You... are planning on getting a real costume, right?"

If anything, she seemed more confused than me.

"No? Oh, you can keep yours, of course. You are not an Imperial soldier and it would be inappropriate to dress you as one. Though I still don't really understand why you'd want to keep dressing up as an eggplant."

Bitch, eggplant? Oh, God, purple bodysuit plus blonde hair... Well, I'm certainly not shaped like an eggplant, thank you very much! But, no costumes? I gave her a closer look. Blank expression, so something she doesn't want me to see. No power, but I shouldn't need to cheat on this. Well, not any more than I already have. Still 'clinging to military hierarchy as a source of stability and security' perhaps? The uniforms don't matter, Tanya! There's no war here to give it meaning, no military police to back your authority, and no treaties between the Empire and any Bet nation to protect you. But I've learned my lesson about prodding her issues directly.

"Will you wear masks, at least? If you don't at least make a token effort towards anonymity no one will hesitate to bother you over cape business whenever they like. It's an important custom."

Now her expression morphed to a more natural distaste.

"I suppose it's a reasonable compromise."

"And you need cape names to go with them, or there's no point."

Full on disgust now, but still not the fear(?) she'd been hiding earlier.

"Very well. I'll be 'Argent,' I suppose. I'll let the men pick their own, though I'm already regretting it."

As if on queue, the sounds of the shower cut off and Weiss emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. He gave us a nod and moved over to the couch on the other side of the room, replacing Granz as he got up for his own turn, and joining Koenig in playing with the TV remote. They'd worked out how to keep the volume down pretty fast, at least, after a single pointed look from Tanya.

("You know the hot water isn't actually unlimited, right? It's actually quite expensive to get all the clean water and butane shipped in."

"Nonetheless, you will share it freely with your new comrades. Or do you want their first interaction with you as a teammate to be marred by denying them this simple comfort?")

"We'll need a watchmaker or precision machinist of some sort for replacement orb parts or whole new orbs. Not soon, but it might take a while. I have... a spare."

She produced an elaborate device, a glass half sphere filled with clockwork set in a metal ring, but did not look eager to hand it over. She must have taken it from her uniform pocket before changing.

"Bear in mind this is irreplaceable. For the moment, I mean. I expect you to find someone capable of documenting and replicating each part before returning it in perfect order."

She still was not letting it go. I was very careful to keep my thoughts off my face.

"Don't you have two? Perhaps we could use one of those instead."

"Ah, no. My second orb is something else. I need both."

Her voice was firm and inflectionless, leaving no room for questions. Did I really manage to stumble over some brand new issue while dodging the last? Damn, Tanya, you think someone needs a thinker power to get to you? Maybe they need one not to! Well, let's leave this minefield of a topic as gracefully as possible.

"I'll look into it. I don't need the orb right now."

She put it away quickly and continued as if nothing had happened.

"Well, that's all I can think of right now. Longer term, we'll have to see about reinventing magic detectors. I can guess at the principles by which they operate, but I've never tried taking one apart. But it can wait."

I nodded, beginning to review the list.

"Oh, and one last thing. If you've been holding things back or lying to me about anything important, now's the time to say. I won't blame you for acting in your own interests while you were a free agent, but for all our sakes I need an accurate picture of the world now."

OK, that sounds very reasonable and all, but will she actually let it go if she figures out I exploited her loss to manipulate her? And there really isn't anyway to clue her in without her figuring that out. Well, she managed to reason her way out of her little paranoia fit earlier, right? Excellent self control. Then again, that wasn't this. I get the sense that self control hasn't been doing the Red Army much good, poor bastards. Well, it's going to come out sooner or later. The heroes might even reach out themselves, once they see what she can do. Nothing for it...

"Well, I couldn't tell you about Coil until I knew you'd help. I may have exaggerated a bit how hard a time you'd have making up with the PRT. Dauntless was well liked and the other heroes will probably hold a grudge, but the organization as a whole can be pretty cold and pragmatic. Also, I know a ton of little things about most of the capes in the city, like, Armsmaster let Merchandising print his face on kids' underwear for a while. And Panacea totally wants to bang her--"

She raised a hand. I shut up. She just stayed like that, staring at me, motionless. It would have been super awkward if it wasn't terrifying. I was really tempted to let up on my power, pain or not, but what good would it do? Finally, she just turned and left, grabbing her rifle on the way out.

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Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death

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Parahumans Series - Wildbow幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil - Carlo Zen (Light Novels)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil (Anime)

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Published:2023-11-02Updated:2025-01-20Words:211,752Chapters:46/?Comments:136Kudos:598Bookmarks:229Hits:37,663

A Young Girl's Criminal Record

TorontoTowers

Chapter 6: 1.6

Chapter Text

-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

I touched back down some 40 minutes later. I felt... frustrated and restless. Even in flight I couldn't relax. Which I suppose shouldn't be surprising; I've rarely had the opportunity to fly without the threat of attack. As wonderful as it is, I must have conditioned myself to view flight as a prelude to combat. Even as I'd slowly ascended in a lazy spiral, my eyes had automatically scanned the peaceful city, on the lookout for nonexistent anti-air guns, aerial mages, fighter planes, tanks, even just a hint of a Federation uniform. Hell, I'd nearly shot a man going about his day in a brown hat and drab green coat with a couple unfortunately placed stripes before my conscious mind reminded my hands that he couldn't possibly be Russy infantry.

There was another moment of excitement when I felt a flare of magic over in the more intact section of the city and saw a figure ascend into its own aimless flight. My lips drew into a snarl as I charted out a course that would allow me to approach the figure with the sun at my back. My speed tripled as I poured manna into the flight spell, simultaneously pushing my reflex enhancement just that little bit passed the standard combat level. Expensive, both in concentration and manna, but when you're fighting for your life, an edge is an edge. I'd nearly committed to the attack run, the poor dead fool somehow having completely failed to notice me, when I forced myself to at least ascertain their identity first. An annoyed flick of thought shaped the air just inside my aerodynamic mage shell into a pair of lenses.

It took a couple accelerated moments, but I finally recognized Glory Girl from Lisa's description. A 'hero,' though not one of the government ones. A sanctioned vigilante. I... wasn't supposed to kill heroes. Even the independent ones. It'd alienate the others. Turn cold distaste into unrelenting antipathy. I found myself struggling to care. These local heroes, by Lisa's descriptions, were decidedly unimpressive. My 203rd could take them all at once, no problem. Hell, I could take them all at once, and the 'villains' too, prove my strength and skill to this ignorant world with the corpses of the 'protectors' they loved and the 'monsters' they feared. They didn't understand yet that I wasn't someone they could fuck with, could take from. I had to show them before they got any ideas because afterward, no consequences would ever be enough. I discovered that I was crying.

I broke off and ascended at top speed, blowing right past my operational ceiling, the height at which my flight spell could no longer reach the Earth below to push against. Momentum carried me upwards as my flight spell sputtered and failed. I dropped my mage shell, letting the wind hit me at full force, the thinness of the air balanced against my high speed. Immediately, I began to tumble, my body decidedly un-aerodynamic compared to my mage shell. Body reinforcement and reflex enhancement let me experience the wildly spinning view and the utter confusion of my inner ear in relative comfort. A mental 'chime' from my altimeter formula alerted me when I had fallen back below my operational ceiling, a modification to the spell I'd been quite proud of in training, before even that fateful day in Norden.

A long moment later, I held my rifle close to my chest, elbows in, legs together, and reformed my mage shell, manifesting magical fins to slow and finally stop my tumble. To my shock I saw Glory Girl rushing up towards me, arms spread. Was she... trying to catch me? How'd she think I got up here if she thought I couldn't get down? And if she actually caught me at our relative speed, absent body reinforcement, she'd in fact just splatter my body across her forcefield. But I guess it's the thought that counts.

I let out a wild laugh as I finally spun my flight spell back up, allowing me to dodge her without any real effort, and continue to accelerate down passed her. I leveled out just above the tallest buildings, slowing down just enough to let her think she might be able to catch up to me. She obliged, and I briefly amused myself by staying 'just barely' outside her grasp, appearing to not even notice her as I relied purely on my magic sense, able to clearly map out her forcefield at this minuscule range. Then she started trying to talk, shouting into the wind. Ugh. I accelerated again, half again then double her max speed. After another minute of fruitless chasing, she gave up and went home, evidently frustrated. A couple minutes later, I did the same.

I stared at Lisa.

"Seriously? I mean, I appreciate your faith in me, but what made you think a few soldiers could deal with that?"

"Oh, give it up. There's hardly a point to false modesty after you told me you think you can 'work out a counter' to Alexandria. You already have ideas."

My stare briefly transitioned into a glare, from which she gratifyingly quailed. I'll instill discipline in you yet, just you wait.

"Fine. Can't he use his power to get around Dinah's question limit?"

"No. Her thinker headaches transfer over from the dropped timeline, somehow."

"Does she have to observe the outcome with her own senses in the future to report on it?"

"No."

"Around when does he ask Dinah about the next week? Is there a gap?"

"No, he's smart enough to overlap it a bit, every six days. Well, I say 'he,' but I suspect he tortured the idea out of me or Skitter in a dropped timeline."

"Does he ask about Dinah's continued captivity, or just whether his base will be attacked?"

"The latter."

"Who decides what counts as an attack? Dinah?"

"Not consciously, maybe not at all. Powers have to make that kind of determination all the time and no one's really sure how they go about it. A rescue mission without any fighting or major damage probably wouldn't count."

"Hmm. Well, that still wouldn't be easy, and it doesn't get us Coil himself. If we take Dinah in both timelines and prove he can't beat us in the one where he tries to fight it out, what does he do? Go to ground?"

"Yes, but not forever. He'll try to gather strength and strike back from ambush, using his power to try as many times as he needs. I think he has a cordial relationship with Accord. Maybe he could convince him to lend him some heavy hitters."

"And we'd have no way to track him down or otherwise respond proactively. You don't know his civilian identity, and he'll close any timelines where his attack fails."

"Yeah, pretty much. If you can get me onto the base's intranet during the rescue mission, maybe I can figure it out from there, but don't bet on it."

"if Dinah tells him his base will be attacked, what does he ask next?"

"Whether his forces will succeed in the defense, and then he tries to figure out who. Shows Dinah pictures and asks her if the people in them are involved."

"So her power does sometimes depend on her knowledge?"

"I think her power is visual. She or maybe just her power actually watches the futures to determine the answer to the question. Either way, she can't remember anything about them afterward but the number. She doesn't have to actually see something with her own eyes in that future, but it does have to be visibly recognizable."

"That's something. So if I wear an illusion of Alexandria while I break down his door?"

"Dinah will report that Alexandria is responsible for the attack. I think. But don't do Alexandria. His PRT informant is high up. High enough they might be able to figure out she actually has other things to do. Maybe Dragon? Lot harder to get someone in the Guild, and he's never hinted he has anyone there. And she can effectively be in multiple places at once. And he'd probably blow a lot of questions narrowing it down since there's really no reason to suspect her."

"OK, so Dinah tells him Dragon will break down his door tomorrow. He clears out, presumably? If he can't win the fight, no reason to leave assets in place to be seized."

"Yes."

"How about this: we plan to break down his door disguised as Dragon tomorrow, but we also stake out the base today. If nothing unusual happens, we do nothing until tomorrow, but if he tries to clear out, we attack immediately."

"That's... Yeah, that's the one. And I do know where all the exits are for his secondary base. You'd have to do the attack tomorrow too, even if we already won, but that strategy works. Dinah doesn't see the results of her own predictions, so he'd have to ask again about earlier attacks. Which he wouldn't, because he's an idiot when he can't torture good ideas out of other people. And you said you couldn't do it."

"I said no such thing. And we're not quite there. That gets us Dinah and the rest of his stuff, but if he stays away from the evacuation in one timeline, we're back to the last scenario."

"He won't. He'll feel secure 'knowing' the attack isn't coming until tomorrow. He'll sit in his base organizing the evacuation while he spams his power trying to find just the right approach to get Accord to send help or something like that."

"If you're certain... The scenario where he gets away seems very annoying. And probably fatal for you, sooner or later."

"I'm certain."

Her grin was positively feral.

I gave her one of my own. Somehow, I felt a lot better.

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Chapter 1629 - criminal