Twisted and Accursed, Chapter 26

The chaos surrounding her was a blessing in disguise. People screamed, pushing and shoving, desperate to get as far from the carnage as possible. Taylor took advantage of the confusion, slipping through the crowd and moving with purpose. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her face remained calm. The hoodie she swiped from a passing stranger provided some cover, shielding her face and helping her blend in as she ducked into the throng of fleeing refugees.

Her mind raced. She had to get away before the inevitable. Someone was bound to contact the authorities, and once they knew what happened, the capes would come for her. They always did.

The air itself seemed to shudder before a sharp crack echoed overhead. Taylor froze. The sky was filled with capes, descending like a storm. Her stomach twisted. She didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t matter. They were here for her, and she knew it.

Alice drifted beside her, intangible, slipping through the bodies of panicked civilians. No one saw her, but Taylor could feel her Ghost’s anticipation, waiting for her command. Taylor quickened her pace, ducking her head lower, keeping her eyes on the ground as she threaded through the sea of people. More capes zoomed above, and her gut told her they already knew she was here.

Maybe they don’t, she thought, her jaw tightening. But they will.

More bodies surged around her, shoving her from side to side. Taylor moved with the flow, but her muscles tensed. The cape presence was suffocating. Too many of them. Far more than Brockton Bay was supposed to have. It reminded her of the day Armsmaster arrested her – all those capes, all that pressure. It made sense that they would throw even more at her now. She was the reason the city was teetering on the edge of collapse.

She pushed forward, her steps quickening. The crowd thinned as she neared the camp's edge, but before she could make her escape, someone landed in front of her.

The blue armor. The halberd.

Taylor’s blood ran cold. Armsmaster. Of course, it would be him. How they found her so fast, she couldn’t be sure. A Thinker, maybe. Her teeth clenched as she glanced at Alice and Liam, both waiting for her signal. She wouldn’t give it, not yet. The memory of Purity and Hookwolf’s bodies flashed in her mind. The mangled, twisted remains. She wouldn’t let that happen again, not unless she had no other choice.

Armsmaster pointed his halberd at her. The blade gleamed under the faint light from the campfires behind her. She turned her head slowly, taking in the scene. Capes filled the street around them, blocking every possible escape route. There were heroes, villains, capes she didn’t recognize. Robots hovered in the sky, likely Dragon’s creations.

Her mouth should have been dry. Her legs should have been shaking. But instead, Taylor felt nothing. She stood still, calm, as the weight of the entire cape community pressed down on her.

The capes weren’t as calm. She could feel their fear. It radiated from them like heat from a furnace. Some of them were downright terrified.

They don’t know. Taylor’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. They didn’t know about Sukuna, didn’t understand what had really happened in that fight with Lung. They thought it was her, a normal girl, who had fought and beaten the Dragon of Kyushu. They thought she had stood toe to toe with one of the most powerful capes in Brockton Bay and walked away unscathed.

Taylor sighed, shaking her head. What a joke.

Armsmaster’s grip tightened on his halberd. His voice was sharp, but controlled. “Taylor Hebert.”

The name sent a ripple through the capes surrounding her, tightening the tension in the air. Taylor could see it in their eyes, the way they braced themselves, waiting for her to make a move. She could even taste their fear, as if it had substance, something she could reach out and touch.

Taylor slowly lifted her hands to her hoodie, pulling it down to reveal her face. She wasn’t hiding anymore. There wasn’t any point. She undid her mask, tossing it aside carelessly. Her eyes met Armsmaster’s, unblinking. And then, the hero in the blue armor spoke. “Did you kill Purity and Hookwolf?”

Taylor almost scowled, but – ultimately – there was no point in denying the very obvious.

“Armsmaster, I’m not here for trouble,” she said, her voice low but clear.

As far as she knew, Armsmaster was one of the strongest Tinkers, but he was ultimately a normal human being underneath the armor and bereft of the weapons. She also used to have an Armsmaster themed pair of undies. “I just want to see my dad.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge. The hero stood his ground, even when everyone else seemed to back off just by the mere sound of her voice. “If you come with me, peacefully, then I’ll take you to him. I swear that your father is alive and well, unharmed and comfortable; he has been given proper accommodations. There is no need to escalate to violence, Taylor.”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed, locking onto the hero she’d known since childhood. Armsmaster. The man who had once been a symbol of stability, authority, and justice in Brockton Bay. Now, he was just another obstacle. She didn’t want to go to the Birdcage, but the reality was simple: none of them could hold her if she truly decided to walk away. Not with Mister Randall in the picture. They could lock her up, throw her in the deepest pit they could find, and she would wait. Hours, maybe days, but eventually, she’d be gone. They couldn’t contain her. She knew it. The capes probably knew it, too.

But still, she felt no fear from Armsmaster. No hesitation. He wasn’t like the others. There was no terror in his stance, only a cool, measured determination. He studied her with that same calculating gaze, no doubt analyzing the risks, deciding the best course of action to bring her in without triggering a bloodbath.

“Despite what you might expect, Taylor,” Armsmaster began, his voice steady, “you’re not destined for the Birdcage. There’s no kill order on your head. But you are dangerous. And we can help you. You just need to come with me – safely and quietly. I don’t believe you’re a villain, Taylor. You’re Asclepius, are you not? You healed people of their ailments. Villains don’t do that.”

Taylor stared hard at him, her lips pressing into a thin line. Asclepius was long gone by this point. But a part of her appreciated the recognition. And, in a very useless way, she did help a bunch of people, mostly via Sukuna’s healing power.

But, none of that mattered anymore.

“Do you have my dad?” Her words were blunt, cutting straight to the point. She kept her eyes locked on his visor, searching for any sign of a lie.

Armsmaster nodded once. “Yes.”

Taylor sighed, her breath slow and controlled. If they were lying, she would slip out. If they were telling the truth, she’d see her dad and then slip out anyway. It didn’t matter what they told her. She didn’t believe for a second that she wasn’t destined for the Birdcage. Of course, they’d tell her that. Their goal wasn’t to beat her. It was to get her to comply, to avoid a fight. They would say whatever it took to get her to surrender. Lies were just part of the game.

“If you’re lying…” Taylor’s voice dropped, her tone icy and sharp. Her eyes swept over the gathered capes, taking in the fearful glances and uneasy shifting. She could feel their fear – tangible, thick in the air. Some even flinched when her gaze passed over them. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling, being feared like this. She wasn’t used to it. She didn’t like it. But there wasn’t much she could do about that now.

At the back of her head, Sukuna chuckled.

Her gaze lifted, and she spotted the members of New Wave watching from atop a nearby building. Panacea, the renowned healer, stood there, her face unreadable. Miss Militia hovered nearby, her presence unmistakable in the sea of capes. Taylor recognized a few others from the Protectorate, but they all seemed distant, like characters from a different life. Once, she’d been invisible, a nobody. Now, she was the center of attention, a threat the entire city had gathered to deal with.

She shook her head, her expression hardening.

“Then you’re going to regret it,” she warned, her voice carrying through the tense silence.

As if on cue, Alice, her spectral companion, glided forward, her translucent form rippling as she traced a single claw down the front of Armsmaster’s armor. The metal hissed and groaned, the sound sharp in the stillness. The claw didn’t penetrate deeply, but it left a clear mark, a warning. Armsmaster glanced down at the rent in his breastplate and nodded once, acknowledging the threat. Briefly, Taylor wondered how Armsmaster interpreted that or what exactly they thought her power was.

Taylor reached out with both hands, a resigned sigh escaping her lips. She figured this was where things were headed anyway—just like last time. Armsmaster’s voice cut through the air again, steady and official. “Taylor Hebert, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the Court of Law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow, watching as the armored hero produced a pair of advanced-looking shackles. They looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, sleek and metallic, humming softly with power. “I thought only cops were supposed to say that,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing as he approached.

“Brockton Bay is under martial law,” a new voice said. Miss Militia had appeared beside her, quiet and composed. “Thanks to you, the Protectorate now operates with the same authority as the police. But that also means we have to follow some of their rules and procedures. Like saying that line whenever we arrest someone.”

“Ah,” Taylor nodded, the pieces clicking into place. Martial law. It explained a lot. But still, shouldn’t the National Guard be here if things had escalated that far? She mulled over the thought for a moment before shrugging. It didn’t really matter. The shackles hissed as they clicked around her wrists, the tinker-tech cuffs tightening with every movement she made. “I guess that makes sense.”

“For what it’s worth,” Miss Militia suddenly said, her voice oddly soft. “What happened at Winslow wasn’t your fault. Trigger Events are messy and uncontrollable. Every single Parahuman can attest to that. And what So-... Sophia did was out of line. I’m not saying what you did was right or justified, but I’m saying that we-”

She gestured at herself and then at every other cape present, a few of whom seemed to nod her way. “We get it.”

Armsmaster nodded with a hoarse grunt. “It’s what happened afterwards that was... problematic.”

“I... see...” Taylor said. There were no other words left to be said. There were many things she wished she could’ve taken back, but none of them mattered. If only she hadn’t listened to what that doctor said, then... then maybe none of this would’ve happened. Or, maybe, something even worse would’ve happened. But, at the very least, what happened at Winslow definitely hadn’t been intentional. For it was in the darkest moment she’d ever found herself in that a demon came and saved her.

She flexed her fingers experimentally, feeling the cold, unyielding grip of the restraints. Advanced or not, they wouldn’t hold her for long. Alice could probably slice through it. Or a few of her other Ghosts could. Or Sukuna could if things became dicey. But for now, she’d play along. For now, she’d let them think they had her under control.

She wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.