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Glam talks to Armsmaster about the possibility of maybe being given access to confidential files on the Slaughterhouse Nine and is, somewhat predictably, completely shut down, on grounds that the rules are there for a reason. They try sharing their strategies, Armsmaster thanks them for it and assures them he'll look into the raised matter, but they still need to wait until they're a full member of the Protectorate to take advantage of these resources.
And is that supposed to make them more likely to want to stick around? Ugh.
The three following weeks are fairly quiet and peaceful for a change. No major engagements, the Empire Eighty-Eight has been keeping quiet, the various Asian gangs reduced once more to fighting each other, the Teeth haven't yet rebuilt. Blasto, Lung, and Oni Lee are still awaiting trial, though it's likely the tinker will be given a lighter sentence in some parahuman containment center while the other two will be sent to the Birdcage.
And then, somewhat earlier than would normally be expected, telltale seismic activity is registered in Pretoria, South Africa. The capes wishing to help must make their way to New York, to depart in an hour—small aircraft is waiting at the PHQ for the trip there.
Well, you don't stop hitting an Endbringer just because people are dying. Go Siberian Go.
Now that he's down, the Siberian can actually turn him into a paper weight, completely limbless (even if for less than thirty seconds given his regeneration rate near the core), and he starts demonstrating his ability to cause damage without limbs. He can create lightning out of anywhere, apparently, using his claw was only for show, and the hundred-feet limit to his kill aura was apparently an entirely self-inflicted limitation, as its radius starts expanding. The Siberian continues tearing through him, and he continues causing more damage than he ever has, demonstrating gravity-manipulating powers no one ever suspected him of having and dropping capes around him like flies.
The bot suggests over the comms that it might be expedient to have the Siberian solo him at this point unless people who are sure they're categorically immune to everything he can pull out want to close.
Radio silence. The Endbringer fried all electronics around, much farther than he usually does, and has started glowing ominously while the Siberian continues clawing his flesh off, covered head to toe in his ichor, shrugging off the fire and radiation and everything he tries to throw at her.
Lorica murmurs and murmurs and murmurs about what the Siberian is going to do. She is going to disintegrate him faster. She's going to keep up and then some with his regen. She's going to kill him.
—Scion appears—
—a second too late, as the Endbringer goes off in a mushroom cloud detonation, consuming everything in a rapidly expanding radius—
—not rapid enough for Scion to fail to contain it then, the blinding glow of the explosion being reduced to stillness, the sonic boom reduced to silence, the radiation quickly decaying.
And even with Scion's help, a crater centered where Behemoth was, a swath of emptiness and desolation, with smears where people who didn't get cover fast enough had been standing, and the Siberian right in the middle.
Scion looks at her, and she disappears. He flies away.
- Lorica decides that this is the right moment to wake Glam up. Up you get, Glam, ten nine eight seven six five four three two one.
Glam wakes up and blinks, slowly. They look around, and the first thing they see is the place where Pretoria used to be, in the distance. "What—what happened?"
"You killed Behemoth. He exploded really fucking dramatically."
...they don't look super thrilled about it, watching the cleared battleground where the surviving capes are celebrating.
" - he escalated a lot, first, this looks super bad for a given attacked city, but it's one city and not a dozen more he'll hit, he's, you know, exploded."
"I—not really? I wasn't expecting to—I mean, the first thing I wake up to is—it doesn't look like victory, so maybe I'm a bit in shock. Because what I see is one of the worst days of fight against Behemoth and, what was even the casualty rate?"
"I—no? I don't think so? I mean I don't think I'll be able to cheer with—whoever's left, in the plane." Pause. "We should probably start gathering survivors and stuff. Is the area contaminated?"
"No, Scion came by just in time to contain the explosion, we're down to negligible rads. We can do evac, gimme some bots." She lets them go to float on their own.
...Lorica doubles back to hug them, but then she zooms away to evac people. Bots disperse, except a few hovering near Glam.
There's not that much to evac, but there's some, and the bots tirelessly look for it.
And at one point, they'll ask their shoulderbot: "Was this my fault?"
The voice switches. "I was directing you. I didn't know you'd have this reaction to the way he scaled up - I wanted to kill him -"