LOCATION: UNKNOWN
TIME: UNKNOWN
PLAN: SET IN MOTION
Along the dark hallway, a lady and gentleman made their way to the observatory office room, carrying a nursed patient with them — emaciated boy, forced to stalk the realm of dreams by a green concoction, hooked up to an IV drip-feeding him mushed sludge to stave off death. Time was strict to them, so they made sure to value its excess at the moment.
"You sure it's a good idea?", the faceless man finally breaks their mutual silence, lips gone into nowhere but his voice crystal clear as ever. "We keep him by the doctors for a reason. Unless you've messed with his range, I don't see what good this loose cannon will bring."
"Some re-calibrations were made," the lady with snowclad haircut states coldly, her singular functional eye unmoving from the point she's staring at. "to remove his inherent range limitation. He'll move far enough, in kilometres. He'll cover the whole city."
"She's letting you mess with shards without her permission now? After that?" His gaze sharpened around her, with his mind bringing back memories uncomfortable even for him.
"He was under my explicit warning. What happened next was his doing."
Their argument was over before it could begin, thanks to the double doors ahead of them opening automatically, flashing with bright, yet low hum of monitors displaying unfiltered data. It had everything a secret organization could ask for, including a comfortable table for negotiations and a coffee machine that just brewed up everybody's favourite drink. Punctuality was part of M's portfolio: the cog must be well-oiled to move on time, and unnecessary details are to be amputated. Soon, the two sat down, with the comatose kid left in the corner to absorb more of his favourite sludge, to discuss folders carefully arranged in a single stack. The reason why she summoned him here, was so he understood.
"Start with the first dossier."
Visage nodded, watching his partner-in-crime click through TV channels in an attempt to gather more information about some destructive incident unfolding within the city. Something about a crazed kobold? Nothing these days could bother a hardened man with a hundred faces. By unravelling the string holding this collection of papers tightly together, he happens upon a collection of familiar individuals — their pictures, their housing addresses, their medical numbers, everything that the government can legally give out without personally intruding on their life. And of course, the evaluation he must fill out:
| Name | Shard | Approval or Termination? |
|---|---|---|
| Horikiri Takeichi | "Kinetic". Efficiently transfers energy into pure force, capable of demolishing almost anything. | A/T |
| Mark Smith | "High Shifter". Capable of assuming the form of a true Endbringer with telekinetic ability, alongside grave-kinesis and energy kinesis. | A/T |
| Maeve Zimmerman | "Wave Queen". Direct copy of Hero's shard, allowing precise manipulation over fundamental wavelengths of the universe. Near limitless tinker specialization. | A/T |
| Singular Anomaly | "Eternity". The body has attained the properties of a black hole, allowing for the absorption of matter. Able to extend a human vessel from an inner crystal. | A/T |
| Kara Zabel | "Omni". "Kinetic" has imprinted on this shard, granting it a level of strength less impressive, and ability of flight. | A/T |
| Brand Yamamoto | "Goner". Extremely efficient form of dimensional phasing that makes him invincible to any available weapon. | A/T |
| Ark | "End". His shard rapidly imprints data of others onto itself and is seemingly capable of killing anything, living or non-living, through detecting a "fundamental" line in their existence. | A/T |
| Cletus | "General". Has created, and taken direct control of several superweapons of his machinations. His shard reduced him to a pile of food waste by accident. | A/T |
| Carl Ridgerton | "Destined King". Shard has impossibly fine control over probabilities, ensuring that the subject in question attains success in any matter. | A/T |
With a sip of his coffee, Visage finishes up her rapport. "I recognize them. Anomalies." That name carried weight for him more than he could realize - both of them were so-called "Anomalies", or possessors of "Apollyon" shards as she dubbed them. The third entity that, according to the riddles she was spinning to Contessa, made active work in causing chaos in the currently dysfunctional Cycle. And it was succeeding.
"I assume this is one of your "hit-evaluate-leave" jobs." He hits her with an immediate pre-emptive assumption.
"Correct. I cannot physically observe them - gathering and fine-tuning observatory shards will take away time from assisting in the repair of Eden's shardlings. Contessa's orders." The situation on TV was escalating. PRT squads were coming in to restrain the creature, and soon, some parahumans showed up. A spectacle, for those who cared.
"Contessa's also told that those shards are for destruction, that they introduce too much chaos. She can't observe what the hypothetical third space whale's gonna do—"
"Irrelevant." Her lighter snaps open, and lights up a ciggie already held by the mouth. A long drag of smoke followed. "Their shards are most compatible with them, maximizing results. Maximum results are required to eliminate the Warrior. Thus, it is needed to correctly assess which subjects we must keep, and which must be depowered permanently."
They're distracted again, by the outgoing dispute between PRT and the cute kobold, dubbed "Pun-Pun" by the reporters. Just in time, a neo-nazi flying superhero shows up to give the creature a taste of racial superiority. Visage could almost feel his colleague trying to write down "permanent depowering schedulement" on her papers, through the sheer force of will, when introduced with a miscalculation as this. The feeling subsided with time, but he knew she wouldn't stop there.
". . .I'll get to it as quick as I can." He pauses for his last sip. "Results in a week, at best. Getting close to some of these bastards oughta be difficult."
"I can wait. Quality of work is worth it."
"Yeah. It's always work with you, heh." He throws a sneer, as he prepares to leave the room in haste after a prolonged discussion. His snark only brought a confused side look at him, from a woman who saw human emotion as a mere illogical reaction.
"You had restraint this time. Interesting."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"You are yet to make an implication that I am inhuman, as you always do."
"Well, M, I'd say that the rumours don't matter. Even if you're a lackey for a space whale, you're still on our side. That's all that matters, I am sure."
". . .Right."
With that, the man made his way out, disappearing into the shadow and leaving the woman to her doubts regarding. . . well, all their work up to this point. For as much as this analysis promised her results, it also offered problems more than it's worth; this collection of outrageous abilities caused a strain on the reality of this dimension to an extent where triggers began to break. How long before the real problems start?
How much before heads start rolling for the sake of mankind?