"Two flyers in one day? They're getting way too common."
"It's worse," the commander informs them, "South Karlsland got hit with three at once. We're taking Lytee's express and sleeping there. You can sit out if you absolutely need to, but Freya's still recovering so we could use you as a comms relay."
"No, I'll come. I just reserve the right to complain about it."
The 42nd United Forces Witch Wing takes off and assembles into a perfect synchronized formation as Lytee charges her teleport power.
...This is not South Karlsland wilderness.
[note: halfway through this thread I created a unique account for Grendyne. Do not be alarmed by the change in account. -Rockeye]
That's apparently enough to stop worrying about whether the suspect knows he's suspected. Armsmaster switches to more direct questions, followed by arresting the guy and calling in Gren and the Deputy Director.
Gren keeps herself stony-faced, only allowing the tiniest smirk to come through at what she hopes is her impending justice/revenge.
Acting Director Renick is easily convinced, between Armsmaster and Gren, but they don't have Coil himself yet. "We can't just accuse him publicly. It would be the worst PR move imaginable. But he isn't threatening anything or anyone right now, and we can arrest him more discreetly with no risk."
"I'm normally not a vigilante, you know. I just have a grudge for Coil. I won't be trying to step on your toes."
"I found out that he was still active somehow during a discussion with the Travelers after that incident with the clones in Horten. After that a borrowed Thinker power plus some good old-fashioned research connected the dots. Armsmaster has the full story."
A phone beeps. "He's gone. Left the building, tased McKay, disappeared. Copycat, can you get us to him?"
If they say 'yes,' Copycat, Armsmaster, the Deputy Director, and any officers present are surrounding Calvert from all sides except below within seconds.
Calvert waits for a conversationally excessive amount of time. Eventually he asks his former second in command, "I take it I'm under arrest?"
"Extremely."
Gren is the one above him. "Hi. Remember me? Isn't it interesting that there's a ninety-nine point nine seven six one percent chance you won't be getting away?"
He doesn't resist while Armsmaster handcuffs him for the cameras.
"I could have sworn he didn't have a power, though. Whatever... Kinda-vaguely-precog thing he has, It's really annoyingly massively complicated and I can't copy it."
She stays just long enough to give whatever statements and clarifications are required, leaves a note to Tattletale, and offers to repair a couple of sections of sewer for Skitter just because.
Skitter takes her up on the offer for the same reason, and is to all appearances happy about her suspected former boss being arrested.
And Copycat disappears to the site of a volcanic eruption and cools a lava flow approaching a town into rock then evacuates a sinking fishing ship, then heals a batch of people in a trauma ward in France, and basically goes back to running around heroing.
Places, meanwhile, is wondering if she managed to dodge being classed as a villain for bringing the Travelers to Terra.
Over time she'll be as sure as she can be short of offering a customer satisfaction survey asking "were you aware I was peripherally involved in an incident that led to the deaths of two New York Protectorate members and do you consider me a villain."
She can get back to making large amounts of money and learning interesting secrets when the chance comes up.
"Door to Ostmark, Earth Gimel."
The door opens to what looks like an endless sea of ash. It blows through, propelled by the storm in the sky beyond, but the winds are surprisingly calm given the sheer scale of the clouds above. The whole place looks dark and reddish, despite it supposedly being 11 am in that time zone.
It's not actually inconceivable that different earths could have their rotations line up differently, but under the circumstances it's probably not that. Eidolon flies toward the storm.
The storm: Is stormy. He might hear a faint metallic screech, but it'd have to be pretty loud to beat all this wind and rain and sticky wet ash pelting him from all directions.
If his information is correct, there should pretty much only be one thing up here. He heads toward the still-faint sound.
The rhythmic flashes of light might be a language of some kind. Oh, and some kind of mental effect is pressing against him. It's not much like the Simurgh's scream, or any other mental powers he's felt, really.