The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 12

If you told me a year ago, my first true ‘battle’ as a hero with other heroes would be with a bunch of mutated cats and dogs, I would’ve told my interlocutor that they should ease up on the drug use a little. If you told me after I triggered or became an SCP, I would’ve not changed my tune at all. Even if someone told me yesterday, I would’ve looked at them weirdly.

I misted immediately to avoid being practically buried by six dogs and three cats who were snarling and hissing in hungry anger.

A cat and dog died in the next moment when their fellow mutants accidentally bit them and in reflex tore and shredded whatever their teeth could bite down on.

I reappeared to the side, giving myself some space and in the process keeping my fellow heroes behind me.

I leveled ‘15 towards the pack of mutant animals. My thumb double tapped a specific bit of the pipe.

A mass of air, traveling roughly over ninety miles an hour blasted out of ‘15’s lower end. Concentrated as it was, and with the concentrated air pressure, it had the effect of blasting the pack apart and scattering them, flying through the air with wildly spinning arcs. Those mutants who bore the brunt of it directly were partially torn apart in flashes of blood and gore.

Others impacted against walls of the nearby house and some hit the nearby train. How ‘15 dealt with the recoil I should’ve felt, I had no idea. It only ever said that it ‘ignored’ the force.

I had no time to celebrate that victory as two Pit Bulls the size of a small car charged at me next.

Waiting until the last second, I misted and let them smash into each other.

I was about to pull the same trick, but Armsmaster had finished turning three mutants into gibbets with the smoothest, economical attacks that I’d ever witnessed and that included the well rehearsed bullshit that came from Hollywood. He then gave three long strides that put him in range of the Pit Bulls.

The first he hit with the reverse end of the halberd, delivering a painful electric shock that left it twitching on the ground, whilst in another twirl he beheaded the second with the plasma blade of the other end.

Assault and Battery also showed why they were a team.

She hit him with a punch, the energy of which he used to surge forward and practically dropkick two mutant dogs with such force that it looked like they had been launched out of a circus cannon. The dogs smashed against the side of the train so hard that they were pancaked into deformed meat piles that splattered blood and gore outward.

Assault used his fall to gain more energy, getting back to a vertical base, whilst Battery kicked two mutant felines to crash through the wooden walls of the nearby house.

I decided to keep myself misted for the moment, rising upward to get a better view of the battlefield.

Either this neighborhood loved their pets or the field had caught a lot of strays or maybe I had just never conceived of how many cats and dogs could be in 30 odd homes.

The three heroes seemed to have everything well in hand despite the frenetic pace of fighting the mutant creatures. I found myself rather hesitant to continue helping as I witnessed the teamwork on display. I was an untrained wildcard and anything I did while helping from my point of view might end up screwing up things for them.

I retreated a bit, opening up a twenty foot gap, then picked a random creature on the edges of the pack.

I demisted in mid-air, bringing down ‘15 in an overhead swing, using my weight and gravity to add to the strength and utterly pulped the head of a mutated rottweiler.

Every creature in the immediate vicinity turned and tried to attack me again, some even abandoning their attacks on Armsmaster to run for me.

“What bullshit!” I snapped in annoyance before misting. What on this earth did this SCP have against me? Henry had indicated that SCPs were generally ‘aware’ of each other, there was nothing that stopped them from fighting or a ‘type preference’, but neither did they decide to be so immediately antagonistic unless they were related such as SCP 073 and 076, the manifestations of the biblical Cain and Able. Perhaps because I was ‘helping’ what the SCP train saw as its adversary?

Armsmaster made immediate use of the opening I had provided, sweeping his halberd through two entire rows of creatures who had turned their backs on him.

“Escort, wait ten seconds then attack again!” he shouted, as he fended off the slavering jaws of a creature with the base of his halberd, pushed it off, then bisected it neatly.

I saw what he was getting at immediately.

My next target was what had probably been a German Shepard. It was at this point that the horror and heart ache of seeing these animals so utterly corrupted hit home.

I demisted and put the creature out of its misery.

My aim had been shit and I ended up slamming the thing across the back, breaking it and disabling its hindquarters.

I had no time to finish it off as the much thinner herd of corrupted creatures tried to rush me again.

Armsmaster and Assault both attacked this time, killing eight of them in less than two seconds.

Battery leaped up and grabbed a hold of a streetlight to pause for her ‘recharge cycle’ in relative safety.

I was back in mist form and after two more cycles of using their instant aggression on me to gain advantage, the last creature, what had been an oversized tabby was dispatched.

Far from gaining any reprieve or breather, Armsmaster suddenly looked at his left foot and jumped immediately for the tarmac of the road.

“Stay off the grass!”

I blinked at his sudden order and sure enough there was something wrong with the narrow front lawn of the house.

Their color was… blue? I hovered closer and saw that every individual blade of grass had grown two inches and was now absolutely straight and seemed to flex and move. They were also hard, as if they were organic blades.

Armsmaster whirled to address his two fellows, “Leave, top speed, that’s an order!”

Assault and Battery obeyed, bouncing off each other, becoming blurs of speed and vanished down the road.

I reappeared next to him, “Why?”

“If this thing is capable of rewriting and reforming biology so quickly, Escort, think of the trees around us.” I stared up at the towering trees that surrounded us, thinking of what biological nightmare the SCP train could possibly change them into. “If something like that occurs, this will most likely be declared an A-class scenario, with a provisional S-class if it is determined that the trees will replicate beyond the 650 foot radius. Do you understand?”

I had a good idea. It meant that nothing was off the table for dealing with this, from outright quarantining the Bay, calling in the Triumvirate to utterly erase the suburb from existence, to nuking the whole city. Brockton Bay would go into the history books as another Ellisburg, a town who had been doomed by the cape Nillbog, who could rewrite biology of others with a mere touch to anything in his demented imagination.

He suddenly lurched towards me and I was so startled by it that for a moment he managed to grab me about the shoulders and pull me in an embrace with him.

My ears picked up thuds as I misted and shot up into the air.

“Escort, stay out of phase,” he ordered. His halberd pointed at the ground near his feet.

I looked at what lay there and understood. He hadn’t tried to ‘attack’ me at all.

On the tarmac were sharp barbed spines - that had been shot at me from the trees.

Even as I watched Armsmaster’s helmet closed up completely as more barbed spines lanced out of the air and bounced off his armor.

The trees themselves were shooting them.

I flew closer and saw that they had grown from their limbs cone-like pods that were somehow adapted to shoot those barbs. Anyone not wearing armor would be impaled on them at the speed they fired.

What more bullshit havoc was this SCP going to pull?

Armsmaster weathered the storm of spines stoically for another full two minutes before it ended at last. All the trees in range had let off hundreds of shots before they had run out of ‘ammo’ in their pods. The tarmac and road around him was absolutely covered by spines.

He twisted his halberd, adjusting some sort of setting on it and from one end flames began to billow, which he began to spray over all the spines on the ground. He had clearly recognized a danger from it and he was taking no chances.

Soon a small section of the road was in flames as the spines burned and he walked down the train wearily, waiting for the next form of attack it would try.

The next thing I heard was an actual gunshot.

Armsmaster turned and aimed his halberd at a new figure that actually stepped off the train into view.

A man wearing an orange jumpsuit with a pistol fired again.

I now saw the bullet spark of Armsmaster’s chest armor, scratching the blue paint off.

He twisted the halberd, and fired from the end a set of taser barbs that stabbed into the man, who began twitching violently before falling to the ground. The pistol remained in his grip, firing off rounds ineffectually into the train’s undercarriage.

Then a detail clicked in my head, something Henry had said about the Foundation.

I zoomed myself towards the house roof and demisted, lying prone to the rough surface with a wince to remain out of sight from the train. Then carefully scrutinized the shooter with true sight.

My hands fumbled briefly at ‘15 as I pulled out my phone and contacted Armsmaster.

He answered the instant I heard a single ringtone.

“Escort,” he acknowledged as he stopped tasing the shooter.

“Armsmaster, listen to me carefully. That is not a human. It might have all the trappings but it’s a trojan horse. It’s another vector for the train to influence things around it. In this case… look!”

“I see it,” he said grimly.

From all along the train’s possible exits, more human figures in orange jumpsuits were emerging. Now that there were more, some stepped into the glare of the overhead street lighting. They were a mix of men and women, but all the men shared the same face, whilst the women had a variation of three different faces and body types.

Of all the practices of the Foundation, this one ranked up there as the most heinous.

The secret organization carefully scoured from their Earth’s prisons, conscripting convicted criminals into disposable slave laborers and expendable test subjects. There they were forced to interact with SCPs to suffer the anomalous effects they induced in humans in experimentation, including handling any other dangerous work the Foundation required in their facilities that often incurred a high death rate. They no longer had names, reduced to being a number stitched on their orange jumpsuits.

They were the so-called ‘D-class personnel’.

The Foundation had most likely fed these people to the SCP, they had died and now it was using them as mutated meat puppets, including using its mutation ability to create more of them from the flesh it had pulled in with its sleepwalking trick over the many decades it had been active. Where it got the orange jumpsuits from or the functioning pistols, more SCP bullshit.

“Armsmaster, how well can…”

“As long as they only have these 9mm Beretta, they can shoot at me all day and achieve nothing.”

His point was proved when the D-class clones raised their pistols and opened fire. I winced as the rapid blasts and concussion hit my ears. The clones employed no tactics and only those in the front shot towards the hero.

Armsmaster didn’t make it easy for them.

With bullets bouncing and sparking off his armor, he charged down the clones and body checked through them with his speed, mass and momentum, doing a fair imitation of a bowling ball knocking over pins. The meaty thwacks as bodies bounced against the exotic armor was awful to hear. Armsmaster also employed his halberd as the clones began to dodge his charge, either clotheslining them or delivering more disabling taser shocks as he went.

Then the obvious danger occurred, when clones from the other side of the train began appearing at the front of the train, trying to dislodge the exterior wall that had been placed there. I didn’t need to warn him at all, as his charge had already been heading towards the locomotive.

He unleashed a flurry of strikes with his halberd, using the taser function on one end and blunt force at the other, where instead of a plasma blade, it had now changed to a baton.

Clones either collapsed or went flying onto their backs as he went back and forth, defending the wall and preventing them from getting their hands on it. They occasionally managed to get shots off from their pistols, but his fighting prioritized not being an easy target and knocking the pistols out of their hands.

This fight continued for a full minute, but quickly it became obvious that the SCP was not going to run out of the clones that it was throwing at him. The disabled, wounded or unconscious bodies were beginning to pile up and the clones were slowly starting to push Armsmaster away from the locomotive by sheer numbers and using the piled bodies to limit his movements.

I wished I could help, but using true sight and poking mentally at the clones with my mind web it was clear that there would be no mastering these things. Their brains were rudimentary, no higher functions, just enough to energize and control the bodies, which were being directly puppeted by the SCP train. From its own point of view, the human clones were just another tool to use in its program.

“Armsmaster, you can’t keep going like this. These are not people. There’s no one home up stairs,” I hissed into my phone. “If this train gets moving again…”

He didn’t acknowledge me but after an agonizing few moments, I saw him change his halberd.

Two plasma blades now sprouted from either end and he began chopping and dicing. He also threw two grenades into the steadily approaching throng of clones on either side of the train. These expanded into containment foam grenades which eventually created a decent barrier and slowed them down.

“Escort, your aerokinetic weapon, I need you to do a little cleaning. Appear behind me so you’re shielded from their gunfire, stay unphased for as little time as possible.”

Tinges of fear and nerves shot down my spine at the thought of possibly getting shot. I could probably heal myself after the fact if it didn’t hit me in the head, but it was not exactly something I could test or relish the thought of doing.

“On my way,” I eventually managed to say.

I hung up and stowed the phone in its pouch, took a deep breath and misted.

I hovered overhead, watching as Armsmaster’s breathtaking display of power armor assisted martial arts continued. How long he could keep going was an open question, but he hadn’t yet shown any signs of faltering or fatigue. He was either fit as fiddle or his armor was greatly aiding in reducing the effort required to pull this stuff off. It was probably both in this case.

The moment came.

A swipe of his halberd including a kick and finally my instincts screamed that here was my chance.

I appeared behind him and knelt, aiming ‘15 toward the left side of the train.

The aerokinetic blast that issued forth had my ears popping from the pressure differential it suddenly imposed on the area. This blast was way more powerful than anything I had expected and clearly ‘15 was judging that the usual stuff we had practiced before was just not powerful enough. It wasn’t exactly like I had a convenient place to fire off near hurricane level wind blasts without letting the entire city know.

This blast was definitely nearing the 120mph level, because it picked up the clones and their bodies, truly scattering them like leaves in the wind. The energy imparted on the air continued and tore at the nearby house, breaking windows and sending the roof decking flying off.

I pulled ‘15 back and aimed to the other side, fighting against the urge to gape stupidly in surprise at what the sentient pipe had managed.

Another wind blast issued forth and I cried out in pain as I felt my eardrums start to bleed.

The blast picked up clones, various body parts and dead bodies, flinging them off to the other side of the road and into the trees. The trees themselves also weren’t spared from the wrath of the wind, with numerous branches snapping and entire trees bending over, partially uprooted.

“Phase yourself,” Armsmaster snapped in the aftermath.

Easy for him to say, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain enough to focus and mist.

In misty form the pain thankfully vanished as I rose into the air.

That had definitely bought the hero some time, as he strode forward to resume guarding the wall on the nose of the train.

The SCP seemed to pause for a moment, all the remaining clones stopping in their tracks but it just as quickly resumed, pumping out clones from the doors and hatches of the train cars.

There was an immediate difference now though. The clones weren’t attacking, instead they formed into a crowd of nearly one hundred, on each side of the train.

Two hundred odd clones rushing at once in a human wave would swiftly overwhelm even Armsmaster and all his gadgets.

The hero just stood there, his halberd still in plasma blade mode and seemingly staring down the crowd of clones without worry. He was like an unmovable bastion standing against a human tide of flesh and orange that wanted to see him fall.

Then wind and the muffled sound of rotary wings chopping through air reached my ears and out of the sky, almost looking like a large black wraith, a PRT helicopter descended to a level just above the trees. It presented its side towards the train and in the open doors was a heroine that would’ve had me shouting in victory if I wasn’t in misty form.

Miss Militia, in her costume of custom army fatigues with a scarf and sash patterned in the American flag glared down at the mass of clones. A green and black energy snaked around her body, seemingly acting of its own accord, before it abruptly seemed to expand, brighten and encompass her entire upper body and arms.

When it faded, she was brandishing a rotary minigun with an ammo backpack.

Armsmaster knelt down and that was seemingly the signal as the minigun began abruptly spinning and belching long tongues of flame.

The torrent of bullets heralded by the occasional tracer round, shot through the air like they were straight out of some sci-fi movie and tore into the crowd of clones.

The rounds were powerful enough to punch through and kill multiple clones with each shot.

Militia walked the minigun fire from right to left in bursts. First firing into the left side crowd, then shooting into the right side crowd.

The effect was ghastly and devastating to look at.

Blood and other human viscera began pouring out onto the tarmac of the road.

At the rate of fire Miss Militia was pouring out, it didn’t take long for her to run out of ammunition, which happened after just forty odd seconds of burst firing her minigun into the rapidly thinning crowd of clones.

More began walking out of the train, as the SCP just concluded coldly and logically that it could outlast its opponents.

The problem was I had a horrible thought that it probably could, given that it was an SCP with access to a dimension of infinite train cars.

Miss Militia’s minigun and backpack flashed into a writhing black-green energy, before it disappeared and the minigun was seemingly back?

The reason for this became apparent as she just calmly and professionally resumed fire.

Wait… Militia had technically infinite ammo!

The rhythmic bellow of the minigun spewing lead downrange was almost mesmerizing to watch. It also seemed that something had changed now as the bullets were penetrating through even more clones at once. Did she change her ammo type as well?

It was the only explanation I could think of.

She must also have been in communication with Armsmaster as she diverted her fire to focus left of the train, whilst he stood and rushed down the right.

My mind clicked with an idea. I rushed myself down the road and out of the train’s AOE and reappeared.

The pain of my ears hit me full force again and I had to spare precious seconds to stem the bleeding and start the healing process. I could still hear well enough though, so fished out my phone again and called Armsmaster.

“Escort, nicely done. Thank you.”

“Yes, yes, Armsmaster, inform Miss Militia that she is in this for the long haul, this train has access to higher dimensional internal volume than what we are physically seeing. I deduce that it’s been in operation on another Earth or Earths for maybe six decades at least. Imagine for a moment how many possible clones of its victims it could make as quickly as it mutated the animals. We need a quick containment solution.”

He paused for a moment to absorb my words, “From your tone, you have an idea?”

“Yes, it’s a short term solution and we can do it right now. We need containment foam grenades and set them off at each of the exits the clones are using.”

“I’ve used my own allotment of such grenades, Escort. Stand-by.” He paused for a few seconds and the area resounded with a deep mechanical roar as Miss Militia’s minigun resumed firing. Another few seconds passed and finally, “A trooper on the helicopter is gathering all the grenades they have on-board. I’ve called on an armored PRT riot tanker that can disperse mass amounts of foam. This vehicle will take at least thirty minutes to get here from its staging point.”

It didn’t take a genius to guess his idea, “You think you can cover the entire train?”

“Containment foam has mild radiation shielding properties.”

“Is there anything this stuff can’t do?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s very versatile, Escort. Now get those grenades, the trooper is waiting.”

“On it.”

I eyed the hovering helicopter, misted and shot myself up into the air.

Once inside the cabin, I struggled to find a relatively safe spot to reappear as the helicopter was also packed with eleven burly PRT troopers all armed with battle rifles.

The only spot I found was literally next to Miss Militia who was hooked into a harness system whilst she was firing out the open side door.

When I appeared, I frantically grabbed an overhead handhold to maintain my balance.

Miss Militia and the nearest troopers flinched in surprise despite their advanced warning of my coming. Yes, I was probably the most out of place I’d ever felt in my life - a naked girl in a Blackhawk helicopter, filled with armed and armored troopers. I struggled to find a place to put ‘15 comfortably and failed.

“Grenades?!” I shouted over the whine of the engine and rotor wash. It was still surprisingly low even here. Either they had tinkertech bullshit or the sound canceling that I’d read some military choppers had was that good.

The closest troopers shook off their incredulity and soon I was handed a small backpack that looked fit to burst with the cone shaped confoam grenades. The only way I could carry it was to use ‘15 and thread it through the shoulder straps, so the backpack slid down, over my hand and onto my arm.

“Thanks!”

I misted and reflexively turned right on the way towards Armsmaster, just as Miss Militia let off another series of bursts with her minigun to keep thinning the clone horde.

Armsmaster had taken to the defense on the right side of the locomotive. To my surprise he had forgone the use of his signature halberd entirely and had from somewhere produced two very futuristic looking machine pistols in both hands that he was firing with near perfect accuracy into the clones.

A single burst from one pistol, seemed capable of hitting the clone in the chest and head simultaneously. Each burst felled a single clone and he was firing his left and right pistols alternately. I restrained my curiosity at the off-brand weapon usage and reasoned it was probably something he only brought out in exactly this situation. There were a number of villains who had duplicator or clone powers.

I folded my legs to kneel behind him and demisted.

“Grenades!” I shouted as I pulled ‘15 free of the backpack and dumped it at his feet.

“Do you know how they work?!” he asked between the firing of his pistols.

“Pull the pin and throw?!” A bullet from the clone horde sparked off his legs and I tried to narrow my body profile more.

“Yes, 5 second delay, but just drop them in front of any door that leads off the train, the expansion is large enough to seal it off. Be careful.”

I nodded and fumbled with the backpack’s release. I really needed both hands free for this and I glared at ‘15 before putting it down… I’d have to be quick.

With two grenades in either hand, I misted and headed to the first train door in sight - the ones on either side of the locomotive, which the engineers would use to get on and off. Thankfully, I had the energy to burn for this and only materialized my hands whilst hovering right above.

I pulled the pin, thankful that I currently didn’t have a physical heart at the moment, and dropped the grenade.

A quick zoom to the left, pull pin and drop.

I misted completely and gained altitude to watch the result.

A thump and hissing heralded the grenades going off and billowing out the foam which rapidly expanded in the air. It ended up catching a number of D-class clones who were charging down the train or emerging from the locomotive, but it did the job and within seconds the foam hardened.

I zoomed back behind Armsmaster, reappeared, grabbed two grenades and vanished.

The next car was a coal bed, so I skipped past that to the passenger car behind that. Two grenades later and I had sealed the front, but there was another set of doors at the rear of that car.

I zoomed back, grabbed grenades, returned and… bombs away!

I gained a bit of altitude and watched as the foam hardened with multiple clones inside, wincing as the splitting cracks of Miss Militia’s stream of bullets passed nearby.

It was working, but I couldn’t stand looking at it for long. The sight of so many dead clones, blood and spilt guts was going to haunt me for a very long time and in that moment I was rather glad I didn’t sleep anymore.

So I continued, steadily sealing off the train’s exits.

The amount of time it took, I would later not be able to articulate. It became a blur of chaotic memory. I became utterly numb to the sights and sounds of it.

All I knew was that at last, I was busy sealing off the last train car and zooming back to the front of the train.

Miss Militia was also now there along with the eleven PRT troopers and the helicopter was circling steadily overhead, shining a spotlight around the area in a search pattern.

The troopers passed me and headed down the length of the train, gingerly stepping around the haphazardly strewn bodies and viscera.

Militia herself looked somewhat haunted around the eyes and I saw her emotional aura was in distinct turmoil as she stared at the killing field she had helped create.

“No clones are trying to exit via the windows of the passenger cars,” Armsmaster commented as he handed me ‘15. I inwardly groaned and closed my eyes, just about avoiding slapping my own forehead for not thinking about such an obvious issue. “Sergeant, report.”

“All hostiles inside passenger cars are not moving, sir.” The report came from a radio on Miss Militia’s belt.

I opened my true sight towards the train and gazed at the closest passenger car. “Something’s changing it’s - ”

“Sir, all hostiles have disappeared, I repeat, all hostiles are gone.”

“Escort?”

I squinted my eyes down the length of the train and blinked, rubbed my eyes and checked my memory just to make sure I was certain.

“Armsmaster, how many cars did this train originally have?” I asked, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach.

He didn’t answer for a moment, his helmet briefly flickering with light. “Nine.”

“I count ten at the moment.”

He exploded into action, his power armor’s normally silent servos and actuators whining as he sprinted past me and down the train. I winced as he even somehow managed to keep his footing despite the awful amounts of blood and guts he was wading through.

I let out a weary huffing breath and leaned on ‘15.

“If you are feeling tired, Escort, you’re free to leave. You’ve done a lot of good work tonight, get some rest, the Protectorate can take things from here,” Miss Militia had a pleasant voice, though it was understandably strained at the moment.

I fixed my gaze on her face, it was a welcome relief to avoid looking at the fucking SCP and its mess. “If only I could,” I gestured wearily to myself, “Noctis.”

Her green eyes widened, “Truly? That is unfortunate. How have you been coping?”

“Reading, schoolwork, research, exercise and the Internet, at the moment.” I definitely wasn’t going to mention that sex and my feeding habits also helped.

“Those are good uses of your time,” my fellow Noctis cape nodded. “However, what have you found to destress or relax?”

“Reading fiction and video sharing sites.”

Her minigun and backpack of ammo vanished into a blur of black-green energy before turning into a holstered hand cannon pistol on her shapely hip. “I suggest you look up some meditation techniques, find something that works for you.”

“I didn’t think that could work for Noctis capes either,” I shrugged.

“I’ve found some benefit from some of them over the years, give it a try.”

The sound of heavy caliber rifle fire and Armsmaster’s pistols echoed up towards us.

“Great.”

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My resolve to remain on site with the SCP train withered over the next hour as more and more troopers and heroes arrived. Especially as Armsmaster indicated that the entire situation had provisional A-class status, which allowed for resources and personnel to be called in from all over the country. Even Dragon, the premiere heroic Tinker known throughout the world, who primarily resided in Canada, was piloting one of her draconic remote suits down towards Brockton and she was already in consultation virtually with the PRT and Protectorate.

When the train had manifested its eleventh car to keep bringing forth its nightmarish creations, the situation had finally reached that level. Self-replicating anything was extremely bad news in the PRT books. They had also confirmed that Panacea was well able to reverse the mutations induced by the radiation field as well, though she had determined a time limit of one and a half hours for anyone to remain in it. That was the point of ‘no return’ - where the damage done would begin affecting the brain.

Panacea’s power had a limit of not being able to work on human brains, which sounded rather odd to me. Parahumans sometimes had what was known as a ‘Manton limit’ - which was generally thought to be an expression of ‘self-protection’ naturally built into a parahuman’s power - preventing them from accidentally using their power on themselves in a manner which would cause harm. For example, Vista couldn’t expand the space inside her own stomach to eat more food or expand the space that people occupied in a way that would harm them. Panacea couldn’t use her own power to heal herself. Every parahuman had a certain expression of the ‘Manton limit’.

It was all very arbitrary between each cape. Something to bring up with Henry to see if he had any ideas.

“What about the plants, animals and insect life?”

Armsmaster was busy making the external wall a slightly more secure fixture in front of the train, working in concert with a number of troopers to bolt it in place, so that it would require actual machinery to dislodge and couldn’t be carried off by the train’s clones.

“We have teams around the perimeter, Escort, they’re busy creating a firebreak zone by uprooting trees and we’re also erecting quick fencing. Modular walls will be coming soon as well. Insect life will be handled by Dragon, she’s bringing in the same devices we use around Ellisburg to prevent Nillbog from using them as a vector to spread his altered organisms. The PRT is well versed in quickly quarantining things.”

He put down his tool and stepped up to me. “You did well, Escort. Without your on point advice and help, I see how this could’ve easily become something we’d lose the entire city to. Your commitment is to be applauded but…”

“Now go home? I’m distracting the work?” I groused.

“We have things in hand. Thinkers and resources from across the country are now pointed at this thing. We are procuring enough lead shielding to cover this train twice over and Dragon has already designed the structure. If you are worried about recognition, rest assured- ”

“I don’t care about that,” I waved him off. Getting my nude ass all over national news was not on my list of things to do.

“This is a provisional A-class scenario, which will in high likelihood be confirmed. At the very least, your name will feature heavily along with mine and Miss Militia as the reason Brockton Bay is not becoming the next Ellisburg. As you are an Independent and a native of this city, expect at least that the Mayor’s office will be getting in touch, if not the State Governor.”

Oh, that somehow felt even worse. I knew there were some civilian awards that the governments at various levels could give out, but no specifics.

I sighed and looked up into the night sky. There was no way I could explain how… personally responsible I felt. How every Void Event which brought SCPs were centered around me. Nor could I open the very big Pandora’s Box about SCPs themselves to the Protectorate. I just had to accept that the scale and danger of this one made it something that couldn’t be solved just by little ol’ me, dad and Henry.

“Okay, I’ll get going. Thanks for listening.”

“You were telling the truth,” he said with certainty. “I’d normally say ‘Sleep well’, but in this case, rest well, Escort. You earned it.”

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♦ Topic: The Tinker Train from Hell

In: Boards ► East Coast ► MA ► Brockton Bay

Bagrat  (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Feb 21st 2011:

Getting reports of a steam train, yes, STEAM TRAIN, that is somehow tearing through the city. This is an ongoing incident as I type this!

EDIT: Protectorate response is already there, somehow.

EDIT2: Confirmed, its Armsmaster and Escort.

EDIT3: No further news, situation is described as 'dynamic'.

EDIT4: The entire PRT ENE has been mobilized. Situation has been escalated to possible A-Class. All BB residents advised to prepare for evacuation to shelters. Perimeter is being established around the Tinker Train, which has been immobilized for the moment.

EDIT5: A-Class situation confirmed. National assets are mobilizing. Dragon is flying a Suit into the city. PRT teams are preparing a localized quarantine of affected area of the city. BB airspace is being closed to all traffic. No word yet on possible suspect Tinker who created the thing. So far, three deaths and twelve injuries from traffic collisions during its initial rampage.

EDIT6: Reason for quarantine is being stated as 'high levels of ambient radioactivity from the technology'.

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►Robby

Replied On Feb 21st 2011:

Well, who else could it be then?! Squealer is the one with the vehicle tinker rating! What's to say she didn't produce this monstrosity while high on whatever drug the Merchants are peddling these days?

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 21st 2011:

While yes, we can't rule that out, but making it radioactive is not exactly conducive to her own health! Crazy doesn't equal suddenly going on a suicidal rampage, unless she's snapped from bad news or she's dying from something incurable.

►Xyloloup

Replied On Feb 21st 2011:

Okay, you've made your case. Let's look at the other Tinkers in the Bay then, that we know of. L33t? Doubt it, he'd be streaming the entire thing. Kid Win? Unless he's been moonlighting in the abandoned Trainyards and the PRT dropped the ball massively keeping an eye on its Wards, no way. It's also not exactly in his Tinker specialty AFAIK. This screams to me someone new, a Tinker who wanted to burst onto the scene in a big way, and he or she's either villainous or the creation went out of control.

►L33t (Verified Cape)  (Villain)  (On Forum Probation)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I've negotiated with the mods to get on here in the interest of everyone who calls this city home and most definitely clear any doubt.

The PRT was pretty good about scrubbing and containing things, but I managed to beat them. [LINK] Here's a traffic cam picture of the train in question. No way I build something that ugly and dilapidated. There are many train simulator games out there - but gosh are they boring. This is certainly one way to make them more exciting, but I act out games that exist and none of the train simulators have a train acting like this!

►Mac's Dual Rocket Propelled Grenades 

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Wow, that's a thing. Is PHO going to let villains actually communicate to the public? How can such a thing ever go wrong?

►L33t  (Verified Cape)  (Villain)  (On Forum Probation)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Every word I type is being moderated, hence the tag. Care to take a bet on how many villain sockpuppet accounts there are on PHO?

►TinMother (Moderator)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I can confirm that L33t is indeed being allowed this privilege and he has not hacked PHO.

►Reave  (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

As this is an A-Class event, villains can be consulted in dealing with the threat. L33t as a local Tinker has been cleared of any potential responsibility for the train and is being approached by the PRT and Protectorate for help in the matter.

►L33t (Verified Cape)  (Villain)  (On Forum Probation)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

What he said.

Took their sweet time about it. This thing is no joke and fully deserves that rating. That's all I'll say.

►Morgan Sinister 

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@L33t, Any details please?

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(Showing page 24 of 26)

►L33t  (Verified Cape)  (Villain)  (On Forum Probation)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

No.

Stay away from the quarantine zone.

►Panacea (Verified Cape)  (New Wave)  (Independent Hero)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Can't believe I'm agreeing with L33t like this...

STAY AWAY!

►Procto the Unfortunate Tinker (Not a tinker)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

And that folks, should terrify you. Excrement has definitely hit the rotary impeller unit.

►Spiritskin  (Skyclad)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I hope Armsmaster and Escort @ReaderMonster are okay. If they were the first responders to a radioactive train and it's not like she wears armor.

►GstringGirl

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Well, she's lucky she lives in the same city as Panacea.

►Thatdude 

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

It'd really depend on how long she was exposed and what level of exposure the train was giving off. There's also different types of radiation, which also makes a huge difference.

►Poit 

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

What possible difference could she make anyway? Is she gonna break her hands on the train?

►WhedonRipperFan

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Dude. Teleporter. Grab bag. There could've been tons of ways she helped. Getting people out of the way in an instant. Helping to evacuate the area... just looking at the map, it looks like a fair few homes fell into the quarantine zone. When it comes to radiation, every second counts.

►Nod

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

There's a question, can she even teleport other people?

►TinMother  (Moderator)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Speculation on Escort @ReaderMonster 's power/s goes to her cape thread or similar speculative threads, not here.

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(Showing page 25 of 26)

►Sothoth (Banned)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

[USER Banned for violating TOS]

Such language is not part of a civil discussion on these boards - enjoy a year off. - TinMother.

►AverageAlexandros (Cape Husband)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

What a time to enter the discussion. Anyone know if this 'national response' will also include West Coast capes?

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

As part of the official response from PRT ENE. I've been authorized to speak for the local branch. Thus far the radiation and the train has been successfully contained, its doubtful we'll have to call on capes from so far a field. Its more likely that a national level Tinker response will be needed, in keeping the train contained and possibly moving it under controlled conditions out of the city.

►AverageAlexandros (Cape Husband)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@Reave

Whew, thank you for the prompt reply.

►Laser Augment (Banned)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@Poit

You dare impugn on the perfection of Escort!

►Poit

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Uh, what?

►Laser Augment (Banned)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

[USER banned for violating TOS]

Wow, a bit too lurid and NSFW in your praise for Escort there. Take a cold shower please and see you in a week. - TinMother.

►Miss Mercury (Protectorate Employee)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

PRT ENE would advise Brockton Bay residents to remain beyond the two mile outer perimeter of the quarantine zone. Things are difficult enough without sending BBPD and PRT personnel off on foot and car chases.

►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

People are gonna be people. C'mon folks, busted up train like that ain't worth losing years off your life and risking higher chance of cancer. That's exactly what the bastard who built that thing wants.

►ReaderMonster (Verified Cape)  (Brocktonite)  (Independent Hero)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@Spiritskin

Thank you for your concern. My radiation exposure has been taken care of and I am in good health.

I can reveal that I was busy dealing with a group of E88 gangers who had resolved to commit a bit of arson, among them was Alabaster. After dealing with them all, I called in the Protectorate and it was Armsmaster who responded. It was at this point that we first witnessed the train teleporting in and beginning its rampage.

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►WhedonRipperFan

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

You solo'd an Empire wrecking crew and Alabaster?! Damn.

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Was part of that callout. Alabaster is sitting nice and comfy in our cells. That was good work, @ReaderMonster.

►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I doubt he's gonna be sitting there long. This is his third stint in PRT ENE custody. He's always broken out in transport to out of state prison by those E88 assholes.

►ReaderMonster (Verified Cape)  (Brocktonite)  (Independent Hero)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

I sincerely hope that doesn't happen again.

Back to the train, please. I'd also like to sincerely thank Miss Militia and PRT ENE Squad Charlie who was also instrumental in stopping it. I played a bit part at best.

►Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

@ReaderMonster Is there anything more you can share? Any juicy details? Please!

►ReaderMonster (Verified Cape)  (Brocktonite)  (Independent Hero)

Replied On Feb 22nd 2011:

Whilst I am not beholden to the PRT gag orders, rules and classification. I have to be able to work with them. Something that will be much more difficult in the future if I break trust.

Trust that I live in BB, this is my home. I don't want to see it quarantined or harmed even more. The full truth in this case, will not help anything or anyone at this stage.

The train is secured and many people are working to keep it contained. It is still active and any mistake at this point could cause more disaster. Let the PRT and Protectorate do their jobs, Brocktonians.

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A/N: No new SCPs in this chapter.