Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hi guys! To those of you who know me, good to see you! To those who don't, welcome! To my first foray into Worm!

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I own nothing here except the OCs, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo, constructive criticism is welcome!

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Thanks to MentalForge and old man of the mountain for beatreading!

Come now, you surely must have heard of him.

Most know that he guarded the great monk, alongside his fellow disciples, to retrieve the sacred scrolls. For his actions, he was granted Buddhahood, and vanished into the mists of China. Others say that along the path, the imposter slew him and took his place, with none but the Buddha the wiser. Many say, that no such journey existed - a fable created for children and peasants by some lonely old monk.

Whatever the case, the story has long since ended. The monk ascended to the heavens, the disciples retreated to the earth, and the land itself forever changed by time.

Yet…

…could it be, that the tale didn’t end when the story should have?

All it took, as it had those millennia past…was a single stone.

Peizhi Luo brushed off the last traces of dust on the counter and wiped his forehead. A day's worth of almost nonstop labor, now bore fruit. The store was clean, free of rubble, and ready for customers.

The man slumped and sighed, his elbows pressed on the counter. Who was he kidding? For the next few days, he would have to use the food stamps until the heat died down - literally. Last he looked outside, he could still see the fires. But that's the life he got for working in Brockton Bay's Asian district. No guarantees except for constant checks for 'protection payment'. He still needed to check if he had enough left after the repairs.

'At least they don't demand too much. I could've ended up like Gao and his jewelry store. They'll shake extra from him, even if his store got trashed.'

Peizhi looked around the shop and sighed, scratching his greying stubble. It wasn't like there was anything here worth extorting; he hardly imagined Chinese kitsch, children's toys and knick-knacks to be an attractive prospect for gang members, even for the more bizarre members of the ABB. Most people who came here did so on the Chinese New Year when he had banners, lanterns and other holiday memorabilia to sell. Most days he was lucky to sell more than a handful of lucky cat statues and some 'authentic' scrolls for teenagers to hang on their walls.

"It's not like I can move anywhere else," Peizhi mumbled. Since his father left him the store a few years back, it was his only source of income. The only other way he saw getting cash was by actively joining the gang, but he had enough principles to resist that urge.

'At least I'm not like those poor folk fresh off the boats and trains. If my father hadn't moved here years earlier to provide for us, I would've been easy picking for them.'

He lightly slapped himself to banish those dark thoughts. 'No good thinking about it too much,' he thought, heading to the storage room, 'just get through it one day at a time.'

Peizhi opened the door, flicked the sole lightbulb on, and groaned at the stack of boxes in front of him. He still hadn't unpacked the new toys! He always kept fresh batches of Alexandria figures and merch, despite not fitting at all with the store's look. But they were among the few things that routinely sold, so he shrugged whenever people asked. Not to mention the dragon banners and kites; even the gang members took a shine to them and sometimes - rarely - they'd take one instead of completely squeezing him.  With that, the thirty-ish man rubbed his hands together and began moving the boxes out of the room. He reached the last box - a wooden one, unlike the cardboard ones before it - and picked it up only to stumble at its weight.

"Shénme guǐ?" he muttered, groaning as he carried the box out of the room, careful to avoid toppling the shelves. With a mighty heave, he threw the box on the counter with a loud thump.

He took a moment to catch his breath as he stared at the innocuous-looking package. 'I don't remember ordering anything this heavy,' he thought as he ran his hands over it and the red stickers slapped onto its surface, 'or fragile. Did the shipping company give me the wrong order?' He saw a sticker with his address printed on it, though it was addressed to his father. 'Maybe it's an order Dad placed that got lost in the mail and they remembered to send it.'

The excuse sounded flimsy in his head. His father, Ruzhong Luo, thankfully made sure to tie up every loose end possible before relinquishing Peizhi his store. He'd established a quiet yet firm rapport among other small business owners of Brockton, going so far as calling himself 'Rudy'. It was slow going at first - the Yangban and their parahuman army created enough horror stories about spies who subverted businesses or used them as fronts for espionage, especially in a port city like Brockton. Fortunately, Ruzhong was hard to dislike, always willing to lend an ear or advice, and the respect he gained was well-earned. His store wasn't the most successful, but it was his, and over and over Peizhi heard it on his father's knee and at his side.

"When you build something on your own, its value is worth more than the greatest of treasures."

Which was ironic, considering Peizhi's position now. How he had been able to juggle managing the store and taking care of his dying father for a year, Peizhi couldn't remember, but his father died content, with his son at his bedside.

Momentarily lost in memories, Peizhi shook his head. Come to think of it, the company that supplied him his wares liked sneaking in odd things as a surprise. Why they did that, he had no clue, but it felt nice. Not to mention they were one of the few shipping companies that still sailed out of China after Leviathan's debut. He was pretty sure they weren't supposed to do that, but he never registered a complaint.

'There's no sender's name. Where did this come from?' he read the address on the label. 'Lianyungang, Jiangsu?' His eyes widened as the address sunk in. That was Northeast China! 'I knew Dad occasionally got some odd knick-knacks from Taipei, but all the way from Jiangsu? There is no way the CUI would let that fly. The Yangban don't even allow bamboo stalks to be exported with permission.' 

Peizhi examined the crate for a minute or two before deciding to bite the bullet. He grabbed a crowbar from the storage and pried the lid open. It took a couple of tries, but he soon peered inside and saw…

"...a rock?"

The shopkeeper blinked in confoundment at the object. A simple rock, shaped like a jagged oval, bigger than his head. No marks of any kind.

…he threw his hands up in the air and bit back a curse. Sure. A rock. Why not.

Why the hell would anyone send a rock!?

"Okay, I am not dealing with this shit today." He grabbed the rock and lifted it from the counter. Strangely…the rock was warm. Were rocks supposed to be warm? Eh, it didn't matter. He went outside and placed the stone right next to the front door. 'At least it'll look nice outside. A little of that zen garden vibe tourists like.' If there were any.

He looked around and took a quick breath. Night had fallen and the streetlamps had come on. He could see some lights from the neighboring windows, but no one was out. The haze of the distant fires, courtesy of the latest in ABB escapades, had started to dim. What poor business had suffered their wrath now? Or maybe it was some starving family, who no longer see their sons and daughters, each confined to new and terrible fates. Rumors fly loose in bars, and the stray sobs of mothers and fathers through opened windows were unfortunate but frequent sounds. "I think I'll open up late," he mumbled, turning around. "Don't feel like I'll be getting more customers tomorrow."

He closed the door and made his way up the stairs to his modest apartment. As he heated a pot of tea, his brows furrowed at the thought of that stone. He hadn't upset anyone, to his recollection. He'd kept his head down, kept his store nice and tidy, and paid the 'tribute' whenever asked - despite the bubbling resentment at the punks who strutted about his store, threatening to break what little he had. The only thing he could remotely think of was that joke he made about Gao - and that man laughed at even worse ones to his face, even from ABB goons demanding their cut. Why would someone send him a stone of all things?

In the end, he shrugged and went to bed. Not that it mattered in the end. A stone was a stone.

The moon rose and enveloped the bleak city in silver. Gangsters started to prowl, civilians hid in their homes, and the darkest corners of Brockton slowly stirred.

A veil of light bathed the stone outside the trinket shop. Silence reigned in that lonely street as the rock sat, unmoving. After all, it was nothing but a rock.

But as hours passed, and the first motes of sunlight pierced through the clouds and touched the stone's smooth surface…

…there was a crack.

Just before lunch, there was an update from Console. Annoying, but that was in the job description.

Armsmaster dismounted his motorcycle and headed to the cluster of squad cars. Police had already cordoned the area off and he spotted some uniforms escorting gangsters away into vans. The police captain turned to him and didn't bother hiding his frown.

"What's the situation?" the hero asked.

The captain grumbled as he pointed to the broken remains of the grocery store. "Some ABB punks decided to shake down the folks here for cash. Someone called 911 and when we got here, they were all…" he waved his hand at a body lying on the floor. "Like that."

Armsmaster frowned as his helmet gave him a diagnostic on the fallen gangster. They looked to be in their late teens to twenties, as were most of the younger members of the gang. Heavy bruising all over, broken bones, even a broken leg. Alive, but beaten within an inch of his life.

"The owners?"

"Still inside. Shaken up, but otherwise fine."

He turned to the captain and stared into his eyes through the visor. "Anything else?"

The officer bristled at his words. He had no time to waste on petty rivalries, and they were the ones who called for PRT help. He just happened to be patrolling nearby so he was the first to arrive.

"They're in their fifties and the husband didn't have time to pull out his shotgun."

Ah, so that's why. He had already suspected, but best to eliminate any doubt. The armored hero gave the officer a curt nod and entered the store. The place was trashed; produce was scattered all over the floor, fridges were smashed and shelves lay toppled. Looking up, he saw that some of the lights had been smashed in. Sitting next to the register were the owners, huddled together under a blanket as the husband rubbed the wife's shoulders.

The hero cleared his throat and approached them. The couple looked up and tensed, making him settle his frown into a more neutral expression.

"I'm Armsmaster of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. I've been told the men outside tried to rob you. Could you give me an account of what happened?"

The wife sent a worried look to her husband, who went silent for a moment. Then, the husband spoke.

"We were goin' about our day when those punks came in. Said we were on ABB turf, so we had to pay so no one would 'hurt our pretty little white-ass store'." He scoffed. "We've been here for years and no one bothered us. We made sure to keep away from the gangs. I told 'em where they could shove their threats and one of them started smashing the store. I tried to get my shotgun from under that counter, but they drew their guns and threatened to kill us if we stopped them trashing our store." His voice dripped with vitriol at the absurdity of the statement, all the while Armsmaster kept his silence.

"They almost finished breakin' everything here when…" the husband's face scrunched up, hesitating. "Something crashed through the window and sent one of them flying."

"Did you see anything in particular?"

The husband shook his head. "It moved too fast, like a big black lightning bolt. The other gangsters tried to get a jump on it, but I just ducked down and held my wife so we wouldn't get caught. When we got up, it was all over. Those punks were down for the count, and whatever that thing was, was long gone. The cops showed up soon after and…here we are."

The hero scratched his chin and hummed. Didn't sound like any of the Wards, and there were no reports of vigilantes or Independents around here. But whatever that took the ABBs out, it was a cape, no doubt about it.

Eventually, he nodded. "Thank you for your time. If we have further questions, we'll contact you."

He left the store and headed to the prisoner truck, where the last of the conscious gangsters was loaded up. The uniforms that saw his arrival stepped back, not wanting to get in his way.

"You. What attacked you?"

The gangster gave him a wary look before he slowly replied. "We was just gonna scare the guy…then the others get whacked around like ragdolls. I shot the guy but he kept jumping all over the place. Fuckin' balled up my gun like paper."

'Brute rating, possible Mover,' he thought. "Any mask? Costume?"

Armsmaster saw the youth biting his lip and his eyes twitching. 'Confused. Unable to properly summarize what has happened,' his helmet relayed to him.

"..."

"Speak up. Don't hesitate. What did they look like?" He then changed to a softer tone. "Your cooperation will be noted during your sentencing."

The gangster finally relented, exhaling sharply. "Fine," he spat. "But don't say I didn't warn you. And I swear up and down, I know what I saw. It was a…"

"..."

Armsmaster blinked. For a moment he thought his helmet's audio sensors were fried.

Because there was no way he heard what he just heard.

"...what?"

"For your sake, leave out nothing when you speak to him."

The junior thug nodded as he tried to ignore his shaking legs. To think that when he first joined, he wanted to be here, to be acknowledged and seen by the top of the ABB…

It had to be the crack he was on at the time, what was he thinking!?

The door opened and he was pushed into the room. Scrolls and paintings from all over Asia, all in perfect condition, lined the walls. The floor was built like an old Japanese home, covered with tatami mats, dirty and bloodstained. Combined with the red lights, the room felt more like a gateway to hell. Considering who was sitting seiza before him though, it was fitting.

The dragon himself, flanked by his loyal demon.

He knelt and bowed before the absolute ruler of the ABB. To do anything less was to invite an early end.

"Speak."

He wet his lips. "With the new turf we took from the Merchants, some of the boys said to us all the shops were up for grabs. Kanada-san took us and-"

"I know how you got there," growled the dragon. "I know all in my territory. If Kanada wasn't in the PRT's hands, I would have torched him myself. What I want you to tell me is who dared attack my turf!?"

His roar made the thug quake as he prayed to whoever was listening that Lung had a modicum of patience. "It-it happened so fast…one moment we were doing business as usual and showing those white trash their place, then suddenly -" he smacked his fist and palm together. "It thrashed the place with us. Started throwing everything in the store and even one of the others at us like fucking darts. Another junior shot it, but I think he missed or the bullet didn't hit, and just balled up the gun and threw it away."

"Hmm…and this wasn't one of the Wards?"

He shook his head. "Don't think so. Didn't look like any of them, and there wasn't a big TV announcement for a new one. But it was definitely a 'he'. No bitch is that hairy. I got away while it used Kanada like a baseball bat, and then I heard the cops coming, so I came here."

The room was devoid of any sound but the tapping of the leader's fingers. Every tap seemed to still his heart, as though they were the ticking of a clock signaling his fate.

"...describe him to me. Every last detail. We must know who it was that attacked one of our own and pay retribution in full. Only then will this newcomer learn not to cross the dragon."

The thug took a deep breath and began recalling every detail he could. He knew his life hung in the balance…but with every word, he felt his chances drop ever lower. Because even in a world of capes and supermen, the description he gave sounded utterly insane.

"And I swear by every whore in the ABB that what I said was the truth!"

The rice cooker chimed and Peizhi gently opened it, inhaling the scent and letting it fill his body with warmth. That machine had proven worthy of every cent for the last year, and the bowl of rice never failed to cheer him up. Business was slow, as he predicted, so he woke late. Not even the brand-new rock could attract people to his shop.

Peizhi rolled his eyes at the thought. Was he truly that desperate, to rely on a rock? No matter, right now, his food was the priority.

Piling on two spoonfuls of rice with the heated stir-fried beef with veggies - a skill he had to master in his apartment's meager kitchen - on his plate, he allowed himself to relax. Putting the steaming wok to the side, he placed his meal on the table and pried open the wooden chopsticks.

'Here's to another day.'

The rice was nice and soft, the beef was cooked just right, and the peppers, onion and carrots were slathered in the rich sauce. A family secret, to the envy of his few friends.

"I say, this is quite the meal you made, kind merchant!"

Peizhi nodded at the compliment. "Thank you. I made sure the rice was fresh and I-"

He froze, the chopsticks still in his mouth.

When did someone come in?

He slowly turned his head to the sound of chewing, his very body protesting against the action that could lead to pain…or death. And in Brockton Bay, there was a contest on which was worse. The fact that this intruder spoke perfect Mandarin somehow made it worse.

At the sight of the intruder, however, the fear morphed into shock and total befuddlement.

It was seated cross-legged on the windowsill, garbed in a set of blue-and-brown baggy pants and a robe-like shirt, leaving its chest bare save for the belt around its waist. The clothes looked like something out of a period drama his family used to watch. But what really made him drop his food was the furry tail hanging out his pants and the bulbous mouth and chin, crowned with a mane of reddish-gray hair, scarfing down a bowl of his food.

A few seconds passed, with the stranger finishing the last pieces of food before reaching for the wok and eating everything there in one quick gulp, uncaring of the heat. He wiped his face with Peizhi's sole towel and met his terrified eyes.

The stranger flashed a toothed grin at the stupefied man. "That was quite enjoyable! So many years of meditation, and I awake to this! Tell me, do you know anything about this fabulous city? I took a walk earlier and there was so much to see! Mortals have learned much from the heavens to create such machines! And the people were so kind, though some of them kept trying to hit me. How rude, no courtesy at all, not even a declaration!."

As it rambled on, Peizhi Luo begged his ancestors, Scion, or whoever was listening that the neighbors did not hear the chattering from his window.

Because the last thing he wanted to do today was explain to the gangs and the police just what was a goddamned talking monkey doing in his room!?

Tada! Eh, what do you think?

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Black Myth Wukong is my favorite upcoming game. I am a sucker for lore and I've read Journey to the West. Might have to read it again to refresh myself. Then, after watching the new trailer and Netflix's Monkey King, I thought: I've read a lot of fics where Worm's crapsack world receives a 'wtf' to the face, and what better character to try it with than of the OG 'wtf' characters ever put to pen or brush, the Monkey King himself!

The monkey here is wearing the outfit from Black Myth, if you were wondering. Also, anyone knowledgeable about Chinese folklore, customs and language (especially!!!) is welcome to chime in suggestions and corrections.

​ I'm a member of the Shiro's Gaming Omniverse Discord (discord . gg/wd3tUYWVCd.) server and the Emerald Library (discord . gg/elibrary). If you want to hop over and chat, either about this story or anything else, feel free! I also have my own server Drake's Lair, at (discord . gg/2bD4UgyyPA).

If you enjoyed this story, check out my other ones and look at my profile for challenges!

Most importantly...

Chapter Text

YES, IT IS I!

I own nothing here except the OCs, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo, constructive criticism is welcome!

Thanks to MentalForge, storybookknight, NullenVoid, QA151 (both great Worm crossover writers) and old man of the mountain for helping me with this chapter! You guys are the best!

"Beyond the ocean, there was a country named Aolai. It was near a great ocean, in the midst of which was located the famous Flower-Fruit Mountain…there was on top of that very mountain an immortal stone that measured twenty-four feet in circumference…Since creation, it had been nourished by seeds of heaven and earth, by the essences of the sun and moon…One day, it split open, giving birth to a stone monkey endowed with fully developed features and limbs. Having at once learned to run and climb, the monkey bowed to the four cardinal winds, while two beams of golden light flashed from his eyes to reach the Palace of the Polestar."

-Journey to the West, Chapter 1

Peizhi idly wondered if there was something wrong with his sauce. It was a much better thought that he was imagining this whole thing. Unfortunately, thanks to a discrete pinch to his thigh, he was very much awake, and thus stuck as he watched the…intruder…munch on the stir-fried beef. Peizhi had put down his own bowl, which was getting colder by the minute, kept his arms low, and didn't take his eyes off the intruder for a second.

Only occasionally did his eyes flicker to the swishing tail, if only to confirm that yes, a talking monkey had barged into his home from seemingly nowhere and was eating his food.

As the monkey kept serving himself from the wok, Peizhi took in his features more closely, if only to abate the panic threatening to burst his heart. He had seen monkeys of various species on the internet and in books of course, even a couple in the old Brockton Zoo before Squealer tore through it during a high-speed chase. This one resembled none of them, with a narrow, tapered chin framed and covered by the mane of dark fur. His nose was thin and pressed, with the front of the face slightly bulging out, seeming more like a short snout. It seemed as though it was trying to imitate a human face, only to fall short. The hands were larger than his own, judging by how he grasped the bowl, and the claws did not seem decorative in the slightest.

Finally, the monkey put down the bowl and licked his chops. "Ah, a warm meal and steaming white rice! How long has it been since I ate you?" He turned to Peizhi with a fanged smile and bowed. "Once again, I offer my thanks to you, honored merchant. Surely, your ancestors smile upon you for creating such a fine dish!"

"Um…thank you?" And the way he spoke, despite the raspy voice…it was perfect Mandarin, no doubt about it, but it sounded…old. Formal, even. He'd heard a few elderly Chinese in the neighborhood speak similarly. "I…didn't hear you come in."

"Hmm? Ah, forgive my rudeness; your cooking so enchanted me, I forgot to announce myself," he flashed Peizhi a toothy smile. "But when I woke up, there was so much to see! Everything's different! Tell me, which province are we in?"

Peizhi blinked, his confusion ever-growing. "Province?"

"Ah, so the mortals have a new emperor now? He must refer to this place as his kingdom then. Then you may tell me the name of this kingdom, honored merchant."

There had to be a limit to how confused a man could get in a day - scratch that, an hour - because Peizhi kept blinking at the monkey. "This kingdom…? Uh…the United States of America?"

The monkey tilted his head. "Měiguó? Hmm…I cannot say I've heard of it. The emperor must be of a humbler sort, not to address his kingdom by his name. Which corner of the Middle Kingdom does it border?"

Peizhi couldn't stop his jaw from dropping; he didn't know what the USA was? That was…unheard of! Even the poorest of immigrants knew what America was! And why did he think it bordered China!?

"Uh…it doesn't." The monkey blinked and Peizhi continued, if only to prevent the awkwardness from returning. "We are not anywhere near China at all."

The monkey stopped his eating and his eyes briefly widened. A scratchy hum emanated from his mouth as brushed his chin. "A foreign land…well, that explains the strange buildings and odd-looking people. The ones behind masks - they were of a familiar kind, but the souls they had accosted; such round eyes and long noses! I would have laughed and thought them unfortunate guai were it not for their scent!" He giggled and clutched his stomach, teetering like a ball.

"Ah, but I dither. If we are not in the Middle Kingdom, then where is this Měiguó?"

Peizhi bit his lip as he struggled to provide an answer. This situation was getting beyond his control, and he needed a way to manage it. "I…I have a map downstairs. If you'll let me go and fetch it-"

"A map? Oh, joy! Yes, that would be most helpful."

The shopkeeper nodded, rose from his seat and slowly headed to the door. As he stepped out of the room, he saw the monkey from the corner of his eyes give him another toothed smile even as he kept looking around the modest room.

When Peizhi finally climbed down the stairs, he slumped against the wall with a strained squeak.

'What the fuck!?!?'

This was too much! Too much! A clothed, talking monkey was in his room!!!

Why? Is this karma for overpricing those Alexandria figurines? That unpaid drink at the bar? How was this happening, why was this happening, and why him!?

He took deep breaths, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. No, he couldn't afford to freak out here, there's no telling what the monkey would do. Should he call the cops? That was the logical thing to do…but a thought stopped Peizhi before he decided to proceed. What was he going to tell them? That a talking monkey had broken into his house and was eating his food? Best case, they'd laugh him off the line. Worst case - they'd call in the PRT.

'Yes…I'm thinking about this too much. That can't be a real monkey. It has to be one of those…how were they called again…Case 53's? Capes who turned into monsters and lost their memories? That's gotta be it. But now I know for sure the cops are off the table.'

If the monkey really was a cape, the PRT would come rolling in and the monkey didn't seem like one who would go quietly with the authorities. No, there would be a fight, and then more capes would show up, as would the ABB…maybe even Lung.

Out of the question. He didn't have a death wish, whether by collateral damage or by a more personal visit from the upper ranks of the ABB. So for now, he would have to obey his intrusive guest.

A few minutes of digging around later, Peizhi returned to the room with a rolled-up map under his arm. The monkey smiled at him and eyed the map with excitement as Peizhi unrolled it and placed it on the table.

"That is China," Peizhi said as he pointed at the country. He then dragged his finger over to Brockton's spot on the map. "And this is the United States."

Now it was the monkey's turn to pause. For the next minute or two, his eyes roamed the map and his grin faded into a more contemplative look. Peizhi saw the monkey's lips move wordlessly, as though he was saying the names - printed in Chinese - on the map to himself.

The gray-furred intruder sighed and a scratchy sound emanated from between his teeth. "I see…I must have been in meditation for quite a while, for me to not recognize these lands." He threw his head back and laughed. "Hah! If only Master could see me now! After all of our journeys, to be so lost!"

He looked back down at the map. "But from the sights out there, perhaps the Buddha has blessed me in secret. Not that anyone in the Court would, those crotchety fools…to think the Middle Kingdom, the so-called center of the world, was so small…"

As the monkey kept chattering, an odd feeling tingled in the back of Peizhi's head. The monkey's rambling struck a chord in him, like an echo from a hazy dream, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.

"Merchant!" Peizhi snapped from his idle thoughts and looked at the monkey, who was staring right at him. "The spot on the map you pointed to, is this perchance this city?"

"Y-yes, this is Brockton Bay."

"Bù luó kè dùn wān…" the monkey repeated. "Another odd name. I foresee this will be recurring. Oh well! Such is dharma!" he finished with a chipper note.

While Peizhi reeled from the mental whiplash and the steam coming from his ears, a breeze flew into the window and caressed his cheeks. The monkey turned to the window and took a deep breath, a content smile on his face. His tiny nose wrinkled and the hint of grimace seemed to start on his face before it vanished.

He turned to Peizhi again and moved to speak before his eyes suddenly widened, as thought struck. He then suddenly shot up, startling the poor man before lightly bowing. "Good merchant! I seem to not know your name! Forgive my rudeness, but you have been a good host to me and I should like to know it!"

Peizhi swallowed, ignoring the sweat trickling down his nose. "It's Peizhi. Luo Peizhi," he replied, using the eastern order of naming.

The monkey nodded, as though pleased. "A good name, Peizhi-xiansheng. And since you have been kind enough to give me your name, I shall give you my own."

He gave a flourished bow and straightened himself, his hands clasped together. "My titles are many, earned by deeds mighty and throughout lifetimes. Once I was crowned as the Victorious Fighting Buddha by Sakyamuni himself before I returned to my mountain. My Buddhist name is Sun, and the name given to me by my old teacher is Wukong. I am the Handsome Monkey King of Flower-Fruit Mountain, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Peizhi-xiansheng."

…

A thick silence enveloped them. The monkey stood tall and smiling, while the shopkeeper's jaw threatened to fall from his skull, as his eyes were in danger of popping out of it. If one could glance into Peizhi's mind, one would see the gears grind to a halt.

"Sun…Wukong?" Peizhi asked, his voice small and on the verge of squeaking. "You are…your name is Sun Wukong?"

"That it is. Ah! Are you familiar with my name?"

Peizhi chuckled nervously. "I've…heard of it before…"

Of course, he'd heard of Sun Wukong before! What Asian kid hasn't? The Immortal Monkey King!? From Journey to the West? His father had read the story to him countless times as a child. Half the kids wore a monkey mask with two feathers at the neighborhood's Halloween parties! And this monkey was claiming to be Sun Wukong!?

Absurd. He had to be an amnesiac cape.

The monkey - the self-proclaimed Wukong - snorted as he sported an amused smile. "I know I am amazing, such a reaction is understandable." He turned to the window and hummed. "While I would love to stay and converse with you, I wish to see more of this fabulous city, especially now that the sun is out and my appetite is sated."

Before Peizhi could respond, Wukong leapt through the window and down into the street. Startled by the sudden action, Peizhi dashed to the window only to see the monkey idly looking up and down the street with nary a care. Miraculously, there was no one around to gawk at the robed primate or him. Finally, a small miracle.

Wukong turned and waved at Peizhi from the street. "I hope to see you again, Peizhi-xiansheng! May karma grant you a blissful future!" And with those words, he bent his knees…

…and somersaulted into the air.

…

…

 …Peizhi slumped into the open windowsill and groaned, his vision swimming. A monkey just jumped into the air like a flea. The probably-cape monkey who, after eating his food, claimed to be Sun Wukong. A million and one thoughts chaotically bounced around in poor Peizhi's head, but only one penetrated the fog:

'I think I won't open today…maybe I'll just stay and read. Or get shitfaced drunk. Or both.'

'Hmm…were my words offensive to Peizhi-xiansheng? He looked rather put out when he spoke,' Sun Wukong, the seven-fold immortal thought and chuckled. 'Ah, but many have been rendered speechless by my presence. Not that I blame them; mortals get excited over the slightest of things, let alone me.'

He turned his gaze onto the skyline, enshrouded by morning fog. 'What strange buildings these are. Tall as pagodas, made with firm stone that doesn't crumble, with peculiar metal objects sticking out like tree branches. Not a single hint of wood, nor a single tiled roof.' He rubbed his hand over the surface of the roof he was on, the stone's rough texture scraping over his palm. 'Unlike any stone I have seen before, very durable. Yet rather…ugly. A home with such strong stone should be suitably dressed!'

He took a deep breath and grimaced as the scent of ash and grime entered his nostrils. 'Gah! I feel like I am back at the base of the Flaming Mountains! Not as strong, but the air is stuffed with soot and gunk! Have these mortals had their senses so dulled they cannot smell it?'

'Not to mention the blood…if the scent was any thicker, it would rain from the clouds back as liquid.' He hopped off the building and tumbled downwards. After landing, a cursory glance around him revealed he was in an alley, with strange murals painted on the walls and faded bloodstains, echoes not of battle, but matters of a more sinister nature.

'No glory or honor was earned here…nothing but sin and baser instinct.' He headed out of the alley and into the new street. A road crossed his path, emerging from the dense cluster of stone buildings to his left. Further to his right, the pavement morphed into a path of wooden planks as faint curtains of fog obscured an overlooking beach. He could see more of these strange mortals walking by, their bodies hunched and eyes round as plates.

'Men of the western lands bore similar features, but their skin was like bronze or ochre. Peizhi-xiansheng and his kin are of my lands, I would bet my hair on it. Hah, if only that pig could see me now, strutting around like a clueless maid!' 

He observed the horizon for several moments, and felt his thoughts grow pensive. "How long has it been…" he muttered. "To end up so far from my native shores? And how did I leave the mountain in the first place? I'm positive my meditations weren't that deep."

As he tried to summon up memories of his recent times, he was met with a fog, with only flickers of images playing before his minds eye.

Screaming.

Thunder.

Hands.

Stone.

The Monkey King shook his head and hissed. What had happened to him?

A sea breeze gently caressed his face, drawing him from his musings. Wukong looked behind him and upwards toward the horizon of tall buildings, wondering if he should leap again for another view, when a strong scent tickled his nostrils, one of oil and meat. Ignoring the drool spooling from his mouth, Wukong turned in the direction of the wafting aroma.

'What peculiar, yet tempting perfume is this?' 

There in the corner, was a shop, with a green sunroof reaching for the street. The sign above it was written in the scripture of this…Měiguó…which he didn't understand. His sharp ears picked out faint voices coming from within the shop, speaking the same tongue as the two mortals he saved last night.

'Looked terrified out their minds, they were. And I understood not a single mumble from their lips.' He rubbed his chin in contemplation. 'While it would be fun to mess with the humans now…I'd rather see what the source of that delightful scent is without being chased off.'

Nodding to himself, Wukong cracked his knuckles and twirled around. A puff of smoke enveloped his form, and from out of the smoke flew a golden cicada.

'Ah, Master Subodhi, the art of transformation was your greatest gift to me!'

The monkey-turned-insect flew into the store, unseen by anyone and landed on one of the empty tables. Behind the main counter, a portly, unshaven man wearing a stained apron was chopping something with a long knife. Flapping his tiny form's wings, the disguised Wukong flew to the counter and touched down on the glass sill. To his delight, he saw the man place shredded chunks of dripping meat between pieces of thick bread and top it with all manner of sauces and vegetables, including round red slices shaped like a wheel that were unfamiliar to the monkey.

'Oh, what a hearty dish this is! Any monk would faint at such a display of butchery. I myself do not partake much in meat but…I must say, my meditations have left me quite peckish. Heh, Master Tang would have fainted on the spot if he could be here.' 

A loud shout shook Wukong as he peered up at the greasy man as he placed the meal on the counter. Skittering to the edge of the glass, he watched as a young woman, with hair as red as fire dressed in a manner of clothing that would have made any court - or anywhere that wasn't a brothel - titter in outrage and scandal walk over and take the meat, placing a greenish paper on the counter. The cook took the paper and gave her some coins in return. 'Hm, I have heard some of the great cities started to use paper as money…that must be this land's version of it.'

The woman returned to her table where two other women sat, one of whom had skin the color of dark soil, greeted her and they began chatting, occasionally giggling like the maidens they undoubtedly were. While amusing to the Monkey King, his lack of understanding of their words frustrated him. Not to mention he didn't even know what that marvelous dish was even called!

'So what should I do to remedy this?' he pondered. His master was the one to handle most of the talking on their long journey, and most people and yaoguai spoke a shared tongue. 'Yet disciples of Buddha come from all lands and peoples, so there must be a - of course!'

The cicada flew out of the store and towards the stone buildings. After he reached a rather tall one, he transformed back into his original self and sat down in the lotus position on the roof. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and began to speak, the words flowing from his mouth like honey:

"Om Ami Dewa Hrih

Om Ami Dewa Hrih

Om Ami Dewa Hrih

Om Ami Dewa Hrih…"

Over and over the Monkey King chanted, feeling the energy of the universe flow up his legs and from the tips of his hairs to his ears and face. Voices and images flashed in his mind, at one moment lasting eons, the other lasting barely a whisper's length. When he repeated the mantra one final time, he opened his eyes and his vision flashed with gold.

Exhaling, Wukong shook his head and rose. He peered over the roof's edge and his sharp eyes caught a sign in the foreign script, stuck on the edge of a tall metal pole. For a moment, the engraving upon it was as unintelligible as ever, but then something clicked in his mind, as though a lake was cleared of muddy waters.

It was a name.

Wukong grinned as comprehension finally dawned upon him. The word engraved upon the metal sign was a name! His head then tilted with curiosity. What would a name be doing stuck on a pole?

'Is it the ruler of this city? No, there are many like these scattered around, and they bear different names. Hm…I do believe they refer to the street.' He nodded. 'Yes, a simple street marker. Truly, your genius is boundless, Wukong!'

He hummed a little tune as he jumped over to the next roof and gazed at the people below. More and more had left their homes and were bustling about, some of them bearing the familiar features of the Middle Kingdom. But as he kept watching them, he noticed a feature that stood out even among their clothes, faces, and even their hair: an underlying tension, a miasma that hung over the city, caked in the same blood and grime he had smelled before.

'For a city with such strange wonders, its people seem the opposite. What could they be so frightened of? Is it related to the bandits I fought?' 

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement.

Wukong hopped over to the roof's edge and looked down into the alley between the two buildings. There, lurking in the shadows, was a group of men, gathered around two dark-skinned folk - a boy and a younger girl. Judging from the clubs and metal rods in their hands, he doubted the interaction was friendly.

He transformed into a cicada again and flew down to better observe the situation. As he flew closer, Wukong heard the words of the would-be bandits in full clarity.

"...you know this part of town is Empire turf. What's a nigger and his skank doing here?"

The boy positioned himself so he shielded the girl, not letting the men out of his sight. "Just passing by. We don't want any trouble."

"Oh really? You should've thought about that before you entered these parts, struttin' around like you own the place."

"Kaiser will get you all one day, the chinks and kikes too," snickered another man, his arm muscular and tattooed with symbols.

"So unless you cough up some dough, we break every bone in your body and maybe leave you and the girl for the cops."

The boy clenched his fist as he looked left and right, his posture akin to a coiled snake. The bandits seemed to sense this and took a step closer, brandishing their weapons. Wukong took the scene in and mentally hummed. While their skills seemed lacking, their weapons were not, and he doubted the boy could hold them off.

'Master and the monk would want to save them, the horse wouldn't care, and the pig would want food or money…why am I considering what he would do?'

"Okay, time's up!" The apparent leader spoke. "Better hope you got some pocket change, cause I'd hate to leave with only a couple broken niggers as a prize."

As the bandits smacked their weapons against their fists and the youngsters looked ready to bolt, Wukong made up his mind.

'Eh, why not?'

A cloud of smoke filled the alley and one of the thugs fell in a heap, making everyone turn around. The other bandits swore and backed off as Wukong rose to his full height and looked down at the man he'd landed on. Idly wiping his feet on his back, the monkey took his time and looked at the assorted thugs. 'Their noses are huge! And eyes as big as dinner plates! Are the people of Měiguó all guai-borne?'

"Good day to you! I hope I wasn't interrupting!"

The language that sounded in his ears was queer, even as his own lips spoke in his usual tongue. Such mantras worked in strange ways, but he did not deny their effectiveness.

"Grange!" the leader shouted, nervous yet hateful eyes staring into Wukong's own amused ones. "Who-what the fuck are you!?"

"Me?" Wukong asked and placed a hand on his chest. "I am but a humble traveler who saw the plight of these poor youths. I confess I do not understand the names you called them, but I hardly think they were friendly, no?"

"How the hell did you get here!?" one of them said as he clutched his pipe.

"Ah, I was watching from up there," Wukong replied and pointed upwards. Everyone glanced in the same direction and the leader's eyes widened.

"The fuck? The chinks have a new cape?"

At those words, everyone seemed to draw in their breaths. Even the children seemed to freeze.

"Cape? I had a cape, but I seem to have lost it."

The tattoo-armed man huddled closer to the leader. "Hey boss, maybe we should leave. Hookwolf and the others can have a go at him."

Instead of doing the smart thing, the leader growled like a dog and banged his club against the building wall. "To hell with that! He's not Lung or Oni Lee! Just some chimp-ass-looking wannabe who the chinks like since they're all monkeys!" He glared at Wukong and clutched his weapon with two hands. "When I'm done with you, the slants will never mess with Kaiser and the Empire again!"

'Ah, they have an empire then? Maybe I'll meet him soon!' Regardless, Wukong tilted his head. "Before we start, there's no shame in surrendering. Greater men than you have tried."

While the bandits were nervous before, now they were plain peeved.

"Oh well…" Wukong reached up and placed a hand next to his ear. "I could use a challenge for today."

With a slight pinch, he pulled out a needle from behind his ear. He twirled it between his fingers and in a flash of light, what was once a needle was now a golden-capped staff. Twirling the staff around and grasping it in the middle, he pulled it behind him and raised his free arm.

The men froze and Wukong chuckled. How many times were his enemies frozen by that little trick? It never failed to amuse him.

"Oh? Where's your bravado? Surely this isn't enough to make you freeze?" at the sound of silence, the monkey tapped the staff against the ground, letting out a clear ding. "No? Well, be it far from me to be a bad host."

It all lasted three beats. Each blow was thunder.

A sweep took one down. The other received a bonk to the head. The tattooed man, to his credit, tried to approach Wukong, but a dropkick broke his ribs and sent him tumbling like a doll.

At last, only the leader remained, surrounded by the broken and moaning bodies of his defeated comrades. The anger on his face was replaced by widened eyes and a shaking form. Wukong simply twirled his staff again and pointed it at the now-pathetic thug.

"Well? Are you going to dance as well?"

Instead of replying or attacking, the man turned and charged…at the children.

Oh, that won't do.

Good thing that he had this.

With a gentle stab, the staff shot out and extended all the way to the man's back, sending him flying out of the alley and across the street, smashing his head against the opposite building. The children, having dodged in time, looked back and forth between the thugs and himself, with the same stare that Peizhi-xiansheng had given him.

"Run off to your parents, little ones! Alleys like these make excellent breeding spots for lowlives. Farewell!"

Wukong somersaulted into the air and transformed into a sparrow, flying out of the alley and out of the city. When he reached the clouds, he transformed back and walked upon the cloud. He gazed at the city below, filled with strangeness and blood, and felt his stone heart beat fast.

'What do you know, Wukong…this looks like it'll be a fun little trip!'

Ta-da! Here I am!

Wow, I did not expect this story to blow up this quickly. I'm so happy *sniff*

We have here our first glimpse at Wukong, both outside and inside POV. I'm using a combination of various adaptations, not just from the original book. Monkie Kid, Black Myth Wukong (GOTY for sure!) and the old Shanghai cartoon Uproar in Heaven (free on YT with sub) are the most prominent. I hope I did a good enough representation of his character.

I'm a member of the Shiro's Gaming Omniverse Discord (discord . gg/wd3tUYWVCd.) server and the Emerald Library (discord . gg/elibrary). If you want to hop over and chat, either about this story or anything else, feel free! I also have my own server Drake's Lair, at (discord . gg/2bD4UgyyPA).

If you enjoyed this story, check out my other ones and look at my profile for challenges!

Most importantly...

Read and Review! REVIEW!

Chapter Text

Guess who? It's me! Monkey Time ahoy!

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Huge thanks to MentalForge, storybookknight, QAI521 and bookie from the Cauldron server who helped me with this chapter!

So without further ado...

The Monkey King searched diligently for the way of immortality, but he had no chance of meeting it. Going through big cities and visiting small towns, he unwittingly spent eight or nine years on the South Jambūdvīpa Continent before he suddenly came upon the Great Western Ocean. He thought that there would certainly be immortals living beyond the ocean; so, having built himself a raft like the previous one, he once again drifted across the Western Ocean until he reached the West Aparagodānīya Continent. After landing, he searched for a long time, when all at once he came upon a tall and beautiful mountain with thick forests at its base. Since he was afraid neither of wolves and lizards nor of tigers and leopards, he went straight to the top to look around. It was indeed a magnificent mountain…As he was looking about, he suddenly heard the sound of a man speaking deep within the woods. Hurriedly he dashed into the forest and cocked his ear to listen…When the Handsome Monkey King heard this, he was filled with delight, saying, "So the immortals are hiding in this place!"

- Journey to the West, Chapter 1

A visual flashed in the visor, and he wasted no time responding.

"This is Armsmaster."

"Armsmaster, this is PRT Captain Dunlow, incoming report."

"What is it?" he replied, even as he kept tinkering with his halberd.

"Possible parahuman event. We got a call from Brockton P.D. about a few Empire thugs lying on the streets. They were beaten up bad and are at Brockton General right now."

"Are you positive?"

Despite the moment of quiet, he could hear the captain's frown. "If the state they were left in says anything? Yes."

If he was any less focused, Armsmaster would've paused. "Continue."

"All five of them had broken bones, and when I say broken, I mean almost shattered. From what the doc told us, two had their ribs almost caved in. One was found across the street and with a concussion, maybe a skull fracture. We got no eyewitness reports of another gang showing up, and while a couple of the guys think this is infighting, we both know what's likely going on here."

The armored hero placed the halberd down and moved to the gauntlet on his left. He pulled a tiny wire clipper from a nearby drawer and reached into the open armor piece. His tone changed from clipped to calculating. "No reports? We haven't heard of any movements from the Merchants or Oni Lee. What's the location?"

"Downtown, southeast. We asked them how they got beat around like ragdolls, and the only one conscious enough to answer said, and I quote:" A deep inhale sounded from the comms. "Some monkey-faced chink cape pulled out a stick from nowhere and whooped their asses."

Armsmaster pursed his lips as a low hum, akin to a growl, escaped his throat. That description was very familiar. "A monkey-faced cape?"

"That's what he said. When we asked how he knew he was Asian, the gangbanger said, and again I quote: 'He wore pansy-ass robes he'd seen chinks wear in those old cartoons.'"

For the first time in hours, Armsmaster paused his repairs. Rubbing his bearded chin, he contemplated everything the officer told him. "Did they say anything else? Where did the cape go or where did he come from?"

"Nope. They were too busy rolling in pain or sleeping with concussions to notice. They didn't seem cooperative about why they were even there in the first place, but it was no stroll down the road, that's for sure. We collected some knives, a pistol, and a few improv weapons at the site, so I'd bet my salary that it wasn't anything good."

He drew in a breath. Great. "I see…keep an eye out for any sighting of that cape and send any reports to the PRT. If this really is a new cape, we need to nip this in the bud, or worst case, get an idea of who we're dealing with." He paused, then cleared his throat. "And…thank you for the information. Keep me posted on any new developments."

"Yes sir." With that, he disconnected and the visor went dark.

"So soon, and it's barely been a day. Though it's less dramatic than most debuts we've seen."

Armsmaster nodded at the female voice's remark, his bearded jaw chewing on air. "Maybe this one values discretion, it makes no difference. What's important now is finding out everything we can about this new cape and who he's aligned with." He pulled up a map of Brockton onscreen. "First the store at the Docks, now Downtown, against two different gangs. Beats them up fast and disappears from the scene. If the Empire and ABB thugs' accounts are to be believed, then he's male, and based on his clothing, possibly Asian." The second screen flashed with lists and images of reports.

"There was a recent incident - two days ago - with Lung over a brothel. Miss Militia was on the scene along with Assault. Aegis and Stalker provided backup for evacuation and gangster containment. The whole building burnt down and while the fires were stopped from spreading further, there were civilian casualties. There were no reports of any unidentified parahuman activity though."

Armsmaster frowned. God knows why Lung decided to destroy one of his brothels; suspicion of traitors maybe? An insult? He was never one to take one lightly. Regardless, as sad as it was to say, it wouldn't be unlikely for incidents like these to produce a trigger event. He clicked on one of the reports and enlarged it.

"There's one thing that almost confirms that this new cape is the same one from the grocery store," The female voice made him shake his head and refocus. "The gangsters' descriptions of this Parahuman."

"Yes…'monkey-faced'." It was one thing for racist gangsters to call someone that. When two racist gangsters on opposite sides call them the same thing?

"Case-53 scenario?" he asked.

"Likely. Compared to some capes on the database, a monkey isn't an unlikely transformation."

More reports popped up on the screen. "There have been some rumors that Lung is looking to bolster his ranks with Parahumans. According to what little intel we have, some ABB members were seen in Boston, around its Chinatown district."

He sat down and tapped the desk, his mental gears whirring. "And you are absolutely sure he's not one of said new recruits? Their…initiations…" The disgust was obvious, even through the call. Not that he blamed her; he'd been to many aftermaths of those 'initiations'. "Don't rule out hazing by fighting other members."

"It wouldn't be so open and they wouldn't call the police - or let anyone else try to."

He nodded and typed in a command. "I'm opening a file for this new Parahuman. Everything we mentioned just now and any similar reports go there. No name yet, but I'll assign him ratings of Brute and Mover 3. He'll be treated as an independent until we figure out his affiliation or recruit him for the Protectorate. Any equipment, Dragon? The report says he had a staff."

"It also says he pulled it from his ear," Dragon stated.

"Noted. Adding potential Striker and Stranger to the rating."

"Not Tinker?" she asked.

"Tinkers don't usually have secondary powers. And we don't have any mention of additional gear or Tinkertech. It wouldn't make sense, especially if he's a new Case 53. Tinkers need time to produce their tech, and judging from the reports, I'd say he's been in the city for two, three days at most."

"Are you going to inform Director Piggot?"

Armsmaster gazed hard at the screen, his expression obscured behind his helmet's visor. "Only the absolute basics. We've encountered a cape of unknown alignment."

The screen flashed and a woman wearing green armor and long brown hair appeared, bearing a concerned expression. "Colin, if a new Parahuman is on the scene then the last thing you should do is keep this from the director. I know there have been issues-"

"This isn't about that," he interjected, a tad forcefully. "This is a professional matter. We don't have enough intelligence on this cape, not even a picture. Gathering data and determining his modus operandi is the priority here. The last thing we need is to deliver vague or false information."

Dragon frowned, then slowly sighed. "If that's what you think is right," she said. "How are you going to track him?"

Armsmaster scowled, but nonetheless acquiesced. "I'll pull up every street camera from Downtown to the Docks and run through the last 24 hours. I'll forward the intel to the response teams and the Protectorate and notify them to keep an extra eye out during patrols, the Wards too just in case."

"Rules of engagement?"

"Right now, no provocations. For the Wards, if encountered, they are to notify Console immediately and await a Protectorate Hero and a PRT squad. If they can stall him nonviolently until we pitch recruitment, they have permission to do so." He went to his halberd and tinkered with it some more. "If a meeting escalates to violence, restrain and delay until the capture team or a Hero arrives. If a Protectorate Hero encounters him, they are to do the same, but they have full permission to engage directly if hostile. In all cases, containment teams are to be notified. When we have more intel, I'll update."

With that, Armsmaster looked away from the screen, put down his tools, and looked at his weapon. "Are the upgrades all working?" asked Dragon.

"Everything seems in order, nothing's pinging the diagnostic scan." He placed the halberd back down and returned to the computer.

"Maybe he came from overseas…but he wouldn't be able to hide himself easily with his looks."

"Barring any power-related explanations, smuggled or stowaway?"

"Exactly." A map of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans covered with dotted and dashed lines appeared on the screen, each one labeled. Contrary to popular belief, the international shipping trade's decline was not due to the threat of Leviathan attacking ships; if anything, the Endbringer left them alone. No, its main casualties were the port cities where trade was received - along with their respective populations and Parahumans - and the increased risk of international shipping upped insurance rates, which, combined with the former scenario, dealt crippling blows to the industry. But it was far from dead, especially with the new Endbringer disaster protocols; Brockton Bay simply had it rougher than everywhere else.

Like always. Underfunded, crime-inflated, dilapidated, cape-flooded and one breath away from collapsing into total anarchy and pandemonium.

As those dark thoughts began to swim in his mind's eye, Armsmaster took a deep breath. One problem at a time. One way or another, he would fix this city, deal with the gangs, and show the rest of the world that Heroes like him would always stop those walking monsters called Villains. He would tinker and tinker until he had the best tools for the job; right now though, he would settle for looking into this new cape.

Maybe this would be minor stress relief compared to the usual bullshit this town pulled over him.

Sun Wukong was a curious individual.

His friends called him many traits: impulsive, reckless, mischievous, clever and utterly handsome, to name a few. Among all those, curiosity was among the last usually attributed to him. Yet did he not venture into the unknown for nine years in search of immortality? Did he not take the first leap into Water Curtain Cave, where he was crowned as king of his fellow primates? In fact, many of his early deeds were the result of naught but curious fancy.

Case in point, he was perched atop his staff, on the roof of a tall stone building, surveying the strange city of Bù luō kè dùn wān - Brockton Bay. To an observer, he would appear akin to a sailor in the crow's nest of a ship, gazing at the horizon. The sun had passed its noontime mark, beginning a quick descent into the skyline. He silently marveled at the spires of glass and metal, at the wrecked ships along the distant docks. He felt the wind caress his face, the whispers of a winter chill taking the stage from the autumn breeze. Soon enough, the rains and snow would grace the skies and kiss the earth. Faint birdsong tickled his ears, their foreign chirps producing brisk melodies. The growling of the metal carriages, the idle talks of the native mortals, the buzzing of lightning that emanated from every lamp and home - it was all so…different from the cities of Zhōngguó. Even Chang'an, the Tang capital of a million souls, where he visited with his master at the end of his journey, was unlike this one. It was less populated here, for sure, but it had an energy that he'd seen nowhere else. How queer, how exotic, how…foreign.

'And is that such a bad thing?' thought the Monkey King as he twirled around his staff, doing a tiny somersault and landing on its tip. 'Some of those old fools back home would huff at any foreign tales. Hah! So stuck aspiring for the heavens, they failed to see the vastness of the earth around them! Goes to show them that!'

The smug grin on his face however slowly melted into a troubled line. 'Yet…the differences here are stark, both for good and ill. The scent of muck and blood is strong in the air, and the fear I felt earlier seems to shroud this whole city.' He inhaled deeply and grimaced. 'Not just fear…negativity in all of its shades. Those thugs, with the different costumes, are they a symptom or the cause?'

Wukong grasped his staff and leapt over to a taller building. Reaching its roof's edge, he held onto it with his claws and dangled over it, his staff firmly in his free hand. He could see the woodlands creeping along the western hills, hidden behind rows of smaller buildings. Unlike the spire he was on, they were squatted, ugly, and worn. 'Not only that…'

For an instant, the world was awash with gold.

'The qi here is…warped. Tainted even.' The ever-present life force of the universe was abundant in Flower-Fruit Mountain and Master Subodhi's cave. They were auspicious places, blessed by the heavens, and he had cultivated his talent and prowess greatly there. On the long road to the Western lands such places were scarce, but he always felt the soothing ebb and flow of qi. 'Yet here, it is as though it has blended with the filth in the air! Only demonic strongholds or doors to the underworld were foul enough to taint qi in such a manner. True, it proves no issue for me, but I have seen neither hide nor hair of any yaoguai or spirit since awakening.'

He pulled himself up nimbly onto the roof and crouched, staring at the stream of people below. 'This Brockton Bay is hiding something behind these spires and towers. Crime and human degeneracy to be sure, but this mystery goes far deeper.' He scratched his chin and let out a raspy breath. "I should ask Peizhi-xiānshēng about this. As a native of this city, he would surely provide more insight. Maybe I could taste that delicious beef dish again." He nodded. "Yes, a good plan. Though I should examine every district here before-"

"Hey!"

Wukong was startled from his thoughts by a voice to his left. Turning his head, he blinked as he took in the individual who had spoken: a girl in white wearing a dress that only reached her knees, with hair spun like gold adorned with a small, golden crown. Her face was that of the locals, with round blue eyes and soft cheeks. By human standards, she was quite the beauty.

The girl idly floated toward him, her arms crossed and a curious look upon her face. She seemed to lean forward before her eyes widened and she jerked back. "Wow, that is one hell of a mask."

Wukong pointed at his face. "Mask? I wear no mask."

Her eyes widened even further and she leaned back. "Oh shit, for real? Sorry." Her stare returned to its inquisitive state before she flew around him. "I've gotta say, this is the first time I've heard of a cape turning into a monkey, and there are some weird 53s online. You even have a tail!"

While Wukong had no idea what that last phrase meant, he did notice the other thing she said. "Little girl, I am the Handsome Monkey King! Of course I am a monkey!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Handsome Monkey King? Pretentious much?" She bobbed in the air as she kept talking. The ability to fly was far from strange to Wukong - it would be easier to list the people he knew who couldn't fly.

'But I feel no qi gathering around her feet, nor do I sense it enveloping her or granting her wings. All mortal methods of flight use some variation of those. A xiān maybe? No, not with the qi here. Any immortal would heave and flee before willingly subjecting themselves to living with such tainted air.'

"I haven't seen you around before. You new in town?"

Wukong idly twirled his staff as he followed her line of sight. "I recently arrived. I awoke before dawn, had a good meal, and enjoyed the view. If only the company was politer, this would've been perfect."

"Yeah, the sunsets are nice high up - hold up," she stopped and shot him a glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

Her eye twitched, but she maintained her movement. "If you wanna make a good first impression, then being a smartass won't help." She then paused at her words before shrugging. "But if it helps you then go ahead. Not like I'm one to talk."

Wukong scoffed at the remark. 'I insulted every god in Heaven and got away with it, xiǎo gūniáng. A few mortals don't scare me.'

"Where did you wake up? I'm assuming it was recent?"

He slowly nodded. "I have. It was quite strange, I recognized almost nothing, but I was fortunate enough to meet a kind countryman who offered me food."

"And those clothes too?" she asked, gesturing to his robes. "Gotta say, pretty outdated."

Wukong snorted. "These are perfectly fine robes! I saw no need to ask for clothing."

Glory Girl blinked. "They were already on you?" She then rubbed her chin and her eyes narrowed. "You said a fellow countryman. Then…you're Asian? Chinese? Japanese?"

"I am from…" he took a moment to let the words translate in his mind and recalled the map Peizhi had shown him. "China, yes."

Whilst her words held simple interest before, now the girl seemed to tense at those words. Odd. Was it something he said?

The Monkey King looked up and down her form once more. Despite her rather…provocative wear and somewhat pale frame, her exposed arms revealed the musculature hidden beneath. Was she royalty? It would make sense, especially with the crown. Most peasants couldn't afford such finery. Then again, he'd barely seen anyone in patches or rags here. Regardless, this girl was a warrior, there was no mistaking that. She was primed to strike should she find sufficient reason.

"So, you decide to go solo or did someone already recruit you?"

Then perhaps…he should give her a sufficient reason.

'Hmm…Master Tang wouldn't have liked this…but I could use the exercise. Those thugs weren't much of a challenge.'

He tossed the staff over his shoulders and grasped it like a yoke, slowly walking in circles. "And why should I tell you any of my business, girl? I do not know you."

She smirked and placed a hand on her hip. Well, since you're new here, let me give you a little intro. The name's Glory Girl, and I'd think who's jumping from building to building would like some help knowing where he's at."

How cute. "'Glory Girl?'" He let out a raspy bark of laughter, "Now who is the pretentious one? What glory have you claimed to earn such a title?"

Glory Girl narrowed her eyes. "I told you to watch being a smartass. You're lucky I'm not a psycho like Hookwolf or Lung. They'd skip past the courtesy and move straight to ripping you in half."

'Odd names, but they have weight to them. Are they figures of renown in these parts?' Wukong thought. He then chuckled and stopped pacing. "Is that arrogance I hear?" He smirked at her as his tail swished. "Careful, you might end up biting the wrong peach."

The flying woman raised an eyebrow. "Don't you mean apple?"

"What is an apple?"

"...it's a fruit. You know, big, red, crispy? Seriously, you don't know what an apple is?" she mimed a round shape with her hands after getting over her shock.

"Hmm," he tapped his chin then shook his head. "Haven't heard of it! I'll make sure to try one later." The sight of her confounded almost made him giggle.

Wukong tilted his staff and fiddled with its golden tip, idly tracing the intricate dragon carved along its length. "While I appreciate the offer of help, I think I will manage fine by myself. But you carry yourself like a warrior, and I must admit, I am intrigued." He pointed the staff at her. "So why don't we have a little bout? A test of fist and weapon?"

"'Fist and weapon'? You wanna fight me?" Glory girl asked, her hands on her hips. "Wow, a smartass and a battle-maniac. Why?"

"To see if that title of yours lives up to its name. Your confidence is radiant, and I wish to see if it's true or a mask for arrogance." She narrowed her eyes at him again. "Though judging by the quality of thugs around here, I can see where that might come from."

"You fought gangsters already? Yeah, the rank-and-file don't have much going for them other than being utter wastes of humanity."

"Ah, so they are mere fodder." Wukong let a mischievous smile grow. She seemed a more cautious warrior than he thought. But if there was anything he knew how to do best, it was annoying people.

"Though I must say, you claim to be a hero, but your state of dress says otherwise. Are you sure you're not a harlot with some fancy tricks?"

This time, he got his reaction. The girl's eyes widened as the insult settled in before narrowing like a hawk. She cracked her knuckles and bent her knees. "So warnings go right over your furry head. Good to know. Alright, monkey-man, I'm game. How about last one standing wins? Any time you want to back out, I won't blame you. Unlike some goons, I'm no pushover."

"Ha! That is the best joke I've heard since I woke up!" The Monkey King twirled his staff before pointing it at her. "Then, by all means, Glory Girl, let me see the steel behind your words!"

Chapter Text

So soon? Inconcievable! What can I say, the muses were singing!

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Huge thanks to MentalForge, storybookknight, along with ridtom, QAI521 and bookie from the Cauldron server who helped me with this chapter!

So without further ado...

The bright moon and the cool, clear dew, Though in each corner not one speck of dust.

Sheltered fowls roosted in the woods; A brook flowed gently from its source.

Darting fireflies dispersed the gloom.

Wild geese spread word columns through the clouds.

Precisely it was the third-watch hour—

Time to seek the Way whole and true.

-  Journey to the West, Chapter 2

The girl moved first.

Wukong held his staff in front of him just as she threw a fist and hit what would've been his face. Scratches formed under his clawed feet as he withstood the blow, yet the Monkey King only tilted his head, with no hint of effort. 'A powerful blow, but an obvious one.'

A test of measures was what it was, one as old as time; her might against his durability.

It would be rude not to respond in kind.

A brief widening of her eyes gave it away; taking advantage of Glory Girl's lapse in focus, Wukong pushed her away. Letting her stumble in the air, he swung the staff and struck her back, sending her flying - but only for a moment, as she stopped herself right as she exited the roof's borders. Before she could react further though, he pointed his staff at her and it shot forward. She twisted her body and dodged it, if only by a hair's breadth.

She took a moment to stare in astonishment at his staff - not that he blamed her, the Rúyì Jīngū Bàng was a true marvel of a weapon, and its potential was wasted during its time as the pillar that measured the depths of the great ocean - but alas, it was one moment too long.

'Never take your eyes off your opponent, little girl…' Wukong smirked. With a twist of his body, he swung the stretched staff right in her face. 'Or else your fight will be cut short!'

The weapon smashed into her golden-tressed head and sent her flying again. Yet instead of being punted over the horizon, she barely passed by the next building before kicking the air like a platform and stopping herself, uprighting her posture with a spin.

'So she has control and experience. Aerial combat is no easy feat.'

The girl gritted her teeth and shot toward him again. In a flash, Wukong shrunk his staff to its regular size and blocked her blow again. This time, however, she did not relent and kept assaulting him with a flurry of kicks and punches that would have felled lesser mortals or guai. Wukong bobbed and weaved between each blow, occasionally guarding with his staff against a would-be direct hit. The girl remained focused, yet he could see the lines of frustration slowly forming on her smooth face, even as he felt her blows increase in strength.

Then she abruptly smirked. "Got you."

A minute glance to his side told him the rest. Roaring a battle cry, she rammed against him and pushed him over the edge, and into the street below.

'Clever too. Let's see how you deal with THIS!'

Just as gravity firmly enclosed him within its grip, Wukong's staff shot out and jammed into the building's wall. With a somersault and a twirl, he leapt onto the staff and stood upon its end with one foot, giving his opponent his own fanged smirk.

"You have strength in you, little girl. But if you think that is all it will take to force my surrender, you are sorely mistaken."

Glory Girl shook herself from her gaping stupor and pointed at him. "Okay, what the hell is that staff made of!?"

Wukong's smirk morphed into a ponderous gaze as he scratched his furry chin. "Hmm…iron I believe; I never bothered to learn how it was made. It matters little to me in the end." He walked along the staff's length until he reached the end jammed into the building.

"But if you still doubt its power…" he then walked up along the wall and pulled the staff out. Glory Girl kept looking, her form poised to counterattack.

In a burst of speed, the staff shrunk again and he charged at her, the sea air zipping through his fur. She seemed to freeze up but managed to raise her arms in defense right as he smashed the staff against them, sending her back. He jumped, the air forming a cushion under his feet for a fraction of a second, and swung again. The girl spun and kicked the staff away with a resounding clang. She immediately spun toward him like a spiraling arrow, to which Wukong shrunk the staff and swung it upward. But then, the winds churned as she twisted to the side and struck him head-on.

The blow sent him careening further down the great street, but Wukong managed to extend his staff again and jam it into the ground far below. As he grasped onto its golden cap, he looked up to see Glory Girl smiling at him with her arms crossed, floating with nary a care. As he stared into that smug visage, an odd sensation caressed his mind. A mental shake later, and it vanished.

Hmm…

'You have my attention, little girl. Time to see if you can keep it.'

The Monkey King crouched down and he felt the staff beneath his feet bend backward. He kicked it with one leg and the weapon shot him at Glory Girl. She bent and started to lower herself, but as he spun through the air, he twitched his finger and his staff shrunk and twirled into his open palm. The white-clad girl saw this and flew right at him, intending on no doubt disabling him before he could react.

But the moment her fist was about to reach him, he twirled midair and kicked her fist away. The impact distracted her for a second; within that second his staff grew thicker and twice as long. She tried to fly away, but he merely shifted his position and smashed into her side.

To her credit, the girl braced herself, the staff striking her arms instead as it hurled her into the paneled side of a nearby glass spire, shattering the clear substance and forcing her away from his view.

Wukong jumped again and peered into the hole he had inadvertently made. It was strangely decorated, filled with tables and weird boxy contraptions under square lamps that seemed fused into the ceiling. There were a few mortals there, who were cowering behind whatever they could find and looking at both him and the fallen form of his opponent in fear and confusion. Her dress bore visible marks now, with stains of black and brown. She lowered her arms and looked around, a grimace growing on her face with each second.

Feeling impish, he called out: "Do you need a hand? It seems your blouse has wrinkled."

The girl sent Wukong a dirty glare and she shot toward him again, to which he vaulted upward and stuck to the panel above him. She bolted in a streak of white and almost crashed into the opposing building. When she turned around to face him, he waved at her with a smile.

Her eyes twitched as she grasped air with her hands. "That staff is bullshit! Where did you even get it?"

"From the depths of the ocean, a gift from my friend Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the East Sea."

She stared at him silently for a few moments. "Okay…" she trailed off. "Amnesiac and has a few screws loose. Good to know."

"I do not know what that phrase means, but I will take that as slander." Wukong mock gasped as he laid a hand on his robed chest. "For shame, little girl! At least have the courtesy to insult me outright!"

"Oh, believe me, if I wanted to insult you, you'd know it."

Wukong shrugged. "Well, if your banter is equivalent to your fighting skills, then I will be greatly disappointed. I might as well ask a bird to mock me, at least its voice will be pleasant for the ears."

If the growl emanating from her lips meant anything, then he had needled her once more. 'Good to know I haven't lost my edge; insults are an art!'

Wukong snapped to attention when Glory Girl suddenly dove down at lightning speed until she reached the ground, then made a long about-face and flew upwards right at him, the sheer force of her speed cracking several windows as she passed them by. Wukong vaulted from the window just as she passed him by and shot past the building's roof, then leapt and spun midair to follow her. The girl tried to reorient herself but Wukong slammed his staff on her head and sent her hurtling through the air, crashing through another wall. He flew towards the new impact site and stepped into the mouth of the hole, but was mildly surprised when he saw no trace of her.

He sniffed the air and held back a wince. 'Bah, this city's pungency is tainting my precious nose! I need more time to acclimate to this new air, detestable as the task itself seems. But it shouldn't be a problem to find out where she-'

The Monkey King abruptly raised an open palm right and caught the sudden punch from Glory Girl, the force of the impact rippling through the air around them.

"Hiding in the shadows? How cunning. Doesn't it sully your title though, to sneak around like a bandit?"

Even as she tried to push him, the golden-haired girl scoffed. "Says the monkey who swings around the place like it's a jungle. Besides, in this city, fair play will get you nowhere but a one-way trip to the hospital."

"A city of vice? Then you should be familiar with this!"

Wukong twisted the fist in his grasp and sharply kneed his opponent in the stomach. As she flinched from the speed of the blow despite standing her ground, he spun round and round while maintaining his hold, gathering debris around him. Just as he felt her start to wrench from his grasp, Wukong threw her out of the building and across the street behind him. He leapt forward, staff raised high.

Unfortunately, Glory Girl forced herself out of the way by violently pivoting and letting the staff pass her, brushing stray locks of her hair. She then quickly crossed the distance between them and grasped his head and staff-holding arm. Wukong jerked back and forth, but her grip was like diamond, and despite his attempts, she slammed them both into another structure. Rubble and dust filled his vision and he squeaked in surprise as the girl kept slamming him against the wall. She pulled him back for one big slam, but Wukong fiercely slashed with his free arm at her face. His claws scraped across her features, distracting her and allowing him to wrench free of her grasp and ram his head into hers, sending her tumbling away again.

She righted herself up and shook her head, her narrow gaze directed fully at him, calculating and measured, yet to the Monkey King her frustration was as plain as the morning sun. The bruise on her face just made it even sweeter.

"Is that a wrinkle I see on that porcelain face? You should be more gentle with your gaze, little girl. You wouldn't want your suitors thinking you're an old maid already!"

He saw her take a deep breath, trying to quell her simmering frustration - or rage no doubt, it usually didn't matter. "Didn't I warn you what happens to loudmouths around here?"

"Yes, and when I've elected to care, I will fondly remember you," he responded cheekily.

Glory Girl's fingers twitched as she rolled her shoulders, seemingly reigning in her anger. "For someone who just came here, you sure know how to fight well."

Wukong raised a clawed finger. "Just because I am a stranger does not mean I am some helpless farmer. Combat is in my blood, 'tis an elixir I have perfected over my years upon the earth!"

Her focused stare rapidly morphed into one of confusion. "Years upon the - Wait, you're not amnesiac?"

"I have never claimed to be without memory. You merely assumed it."

The girl's eyebrow twitched for a moment before she bared her teeth and clenched her fists. "That's it, monkey-man. No more games. You'd better start telling me everything before I make sure you breathe through a straw for the rest of your life."

"Resorting to name-calling and threats already?" Wukong tutted. "Did your mother never teach you manners? And already poking your nose into a poor stranger's private affairs!" he gasped dramatically. "Perhaps I was mistaken about your age because I only thought I would hear such words outside a Mahjong house full of grandmas!"

He smirked as Glory Girl responded by trying the same trick with the about-turn as before, only by going upwards instead. This time though, he lightly jumped from the wall and used her speeding form to push himself up above the rooftops, and onto a low drifting cloud. To her credit, she proved her control once more by sharply avoiding a crash and shooting upwards. Instead of using herself as a battering ram though, she began to circle him at breakneck speeds until she seemed like a blur. While mortal opponents might have lost her in the blurs of white and gold, he was Sun Wukong; such speeds were nothing new to him.

So when she started to dive-bomb him from all directions with kicks and mighty punches, his staff was ready. Every kick, he blocked, every punch, he parried, even dodging her attempted grapples, all while never losing sight of his speedy foe and delivering strikes of his own between each attack. Yet with each counterblow he threw at her, he began to notice something unusual.

'She is more cautious than I thought, considering her strength. Every time I parry or block, she retreats to the skies. Is this simply vigilance or something else? When she wrenched free from my spin, my palm felt tingly. Are those related?'

He jumped over her attack and swiped her legs from underneath. It did not send her falling, but it tumbled her mid-flight, long enough for him to smack her multiple times with his staff. With each attack, he closely watched her reactions and movements.

'The blows do little to nothing…but she does defend herself if I maintain my rhythm.' Wukong noted. 'Instinctual or calculated?'

The girl finally dodged his staff, flew back and delivered a powerful spinning kick. Wukong ducked under the flurry of limbs and sidestepped as a leg cleaved through the sky. She looked at him right as he turned his staff and delivered a powerful blow to her chin. The moment she looked up, he spun the staff at her body and showered her with rapid hits. She then grabbed the staff as it was about to hit her again and attempted to wrench it from his grasp. To that, he pulled her inward and sent his fist flying to her face. At the last moment, she forced herself to headbutt.

For a moment they froze, having tumbled in the air so that the ground was almost to their side. Now that they were closer, he slowly took in her more detailed features. Her blue eyes and golden hair were unheard of, excepting the mortals from the northern lands, along with her tapered chin and cherry nose. Her flawless pale skin, achieved without a hint of rice powder, would have been the envy of many a lady in the emperor's court. Yet the bloodstained mark on her brow betrayed that former state. The scent of fresh blood tickled his nose, and her left leg seemed to shake. He even spotted a bruise or two. 'How peculiar. She took on some of my strongest blows head-on, but some of my weaker ones left their mark.'

Another thing to note was the strange sensation buffeting his mind. When the fight began it was a tiny thing, easily brushed off, but now it was a kiln of emotion, attempting to pierce his thoughts. Of course, such methods meant nothing to him, who had braved the true forms of gods and yāoguài kings alike and spat in their eyes, but still…

"Hey, where are you looking?" He looked up at the sound of her indignant voice to see her scowling. For a beat, he was confused, and then mischief filled his mind as he smirked.

"Doesn't it get a little breezy under there with such short…garments?"

She rolled her eyes. "Please, pull the other one, pervert. Desperate enough to hit on a teenager?"

He kicked her away and Glory Girl arced around him and lunged for his back. In a flash, he caught her outstretched arm and threw her downward, crashing her into another rooftop. She stayed there for a second before flying back up, her expression stormy.

"What is it with you and buildings? Don't you know there are people there?"

Wukong scratched his head in response. "Yes, but to be honest, other than the glass towers, they are rather ugly things; some craters and broken roofs would do wonders for their appeal!"

It was almost invisible, but he spotted the twitch in her eye. A smile crept along his face as realization dawned on him.

Kicking the air, he bolted to her, grabbed and threw her to another building. Its walls shattered and she rebounded. Flying low, he kicked off a roof's corner, sending chunks of stone at her, to which she simply weaved around them. She reached him and managed to grab him, evading his swat and dragging him up into the air.

"Why?" he cried, his tone morphing into one of false sorrow. "I wanted to see if those buildings could stack like bricks!" He wrenched his body free of her grasp and faced her. "They look enough like bricks to do so!"

He then mimed plucking the houses out and stacking them. From the corner of his ever-sharp eye, he saw her fists clench with urgency.

"Think again."

Thus once again they danced, the girl a scorpion and he, her prey. She would charge, he would dodge and counter, and she would dance around and strike again. On and on the dance went, until Wukong's curiosity reached its peak.

'What is the source of her durability? I have only seen such resilience from the greatest immortals. The qi here is so polluted that no xiān would willingly draw from it without purification, and she is far too experienced to be reliant on pills. Is she perhaps using her internal reserves, slowly purifying minute trickles into her body? Then why do some of my blows land true?'

He knocked away her arms and lightly jabbed her abdomen. 'Wait, why speculate? One look and I can have all the answers I want.'

Dodging an uppercut, Wukong somersaulted and delivered a powerful double kick, forcing the girl to halt herself. As she did so, he locked onto her and his sight flashed with gold…

…but what he saw stilled his breath, and his comprehension blanked.

Glory Girl floated there, her form lined with red as all living beings were with his magical sight. The tainted qi of the city and its land were dark green rivers in the background, in contrast to the pure white qi he was familiar with. What starkly stood out however, was the…thing hovering above the girl: a massive, shifting cascade of shapes, swarming together and through each other, akin to ghostly shards of glass or crystal tinted with every color of the rainbow and outside it. The shapes flickered and varied in size, appearing one second small and flat, the next larger than the surrounding buildings and hollow, folding within themselves. Some of the shapes streamed back and forth between Glory Girl's head and the thing, dyeing her in a shimmering golden aura. The sky had torn open behind it, revealing an endless, star-filled void.

As Wukong stared with his jaw hanging low, trying to comprehend the utter…anathema to creation in front of him, the shapes flashed and a form seemed to fade in and out of existence, resembling a gigantic female of misshapen glass, with fingers and limbs that seemed to multiply then vanish. The golden light seemed to shine through and radiate from it simultaneously, enlarging and shrinking its size in ways that made no sense. It was as though someone had taken the sculpture of a bodhisattva and perverted it by whatever ruled their twisted mind while plastering Glory Girl's face on it.

Before he could process the sight further, the girl vanished and he felt his head and body grabbed and dragged through the air. The world returned to normal, the apparition gone and replaced with the girl's open palm as he felt the winds buffeting his body. He cursed inwardly for the novice mistake; had he not espoused to the girl never to lose sight of her opponent?

'I feel like I've toyed with her long enough. It is time to end this charming bout, present incident notwithstanding.'

Right as she was about to drive him into the ground, Wukong transformed into a swallow with a puff of smoke and flew behind her, evading her grasp and sight. The moment the smoke dissipated, he transformed back and smacked her upward with his staff. He followed her high into the air as she righted herself and locked eyes with him, pulling back her arms for another punch.

"I thank you for this round little warrior, you have given me much to dwell on," he said, idly twirling his staff.

"You're not going anywhere, not without answering some questions," Glory Girl replied tightly. "You're starting to raise a lot of red flags. Why are you here, and what's your angle?"

Once more, he understood the words, but not the sentence they were in. This land was full of strange phrases, it appeared. "Life is full of questions, and only time will see if they are answered." His words made the girl crouch and splay her hand. "But I see that you are impatient, so why don't you just-"

The moment she charged him, he pointed his finger at her and yelled in a clear voice.

"STOP!"

And in a flash of gold, the girl did just that. Encased in a shimmering, yellow haze, she froze, her body poised to ram him through and her face fixed with that hawkish glare. Above her head floated the character 定.

Wukong looked at her and cackled loudly, satisfaction filling every pore on his body. "Ah, immobilization! How have I missed you so!" He then paced around her, stroking his hairy chin.

"There is indeed more to this city beyond its strange towers and people," he muttered, uncaring of Glory Girl's frozen presence; she could not hear him or anything else while under the spell. "But I could never have imagined such an…apparition to exist!"

He idly waved his staff in the air as he looked up. "It is not of the natural world, that much is clear; the gods would never stand for such a being to exist in their orderly creation."

Although he spat out those last words with venom, the point still stood. The form and structure of the thing would never be borne in the mind of a god or the universe. Even the underworld kings had familiar structures to their creations and corruptions.

"It is tethered to the girl, and is no doubt the source of her power…but what else? Does she know about it? Did she make some sort of deal with it, bartering her soul for power?" He thought about it for half a moment and shook his head. "No, I do not believe her to be this reckless. Something else is a work here, but what?"

Wukong mulled over what he knew as he fiddled with his hair, trying to fit the facts together. He was tempted to use his magic sight to spy on the apparition once more, but for some reason, he stopped himself. He knew nothing about this being and could discern little of its capabilities. For all he knew, it was watching him this very moment and became threatened when he gazed upon it the first time. He shook his head and screeched, his claws digging into his mane.

"Gah, if I'd known I'd run into such a headache today, I would've stayed with Peizhi-xiānshēng to eat more stew!" The monkey then took a deep breath and centered himself, his frown slowly fading away. "Riddles upon riddles…no, no, this is far too interesting to ignore."

He returned his gaze to the still-frozen Glory Girl, noticing that the character above her head was blinking. "Oh, already?"

He walked to her right and pulled back his staff. Gripping it tightly, he focused on its power until it began to heat up and glow. "I would love to stay and chat, but you've given me a whole soup of mysteries to explore. It's been a fun fight, little girl, but you have a way to go until you can last against me."

The staff flashed and hummed with power. "So out of courtesy, I shall make this quick."

He leapt high into the air and raised his staff, commanding it to grow to the size of a tree trunk. He was sure if the girl could move, she would be whimpering.

"Good…"

He swung the staff down…

"...NIGHT!"

…and the titanic impact sent the girl plummeting to the ground. Seconds later, there was a loud crash, and Wukong saw from above a large crater in the street. The tall poles surrounding it were snapped in twain, and the small metal wagons were flipped over. The ground soon gave way and collapsed under her, sending rocks and other debris tumbling down the hole and trapping the girl's dazed form beneath them.

The Monkey King snickered. 'Another triumph!'

He would have stayed to see the onlookers' reactions, but now he had more prudent things to investigate. He highly doubted the girl would be in serious peril, not after all the punishment he had dealt to her. So he turned into a swallow and flew away from the scene, up into the clouds.

He flapped his new wings and activated his sight. Upon closer inspection of the city, he berated himself for not seeing it before.

'There is more than one in this city. On the outskirts, there are a few. Toward the sea above that…strange island - is that a dome? - there are many, all clustered together. They are lanterns in this swamp of foul qi. Hmm, can they see me as I see them?'

Wukong turned his attention to the cluster of houses to the west. Unlike the ones where he fought Glory Girl, they were worn down and dilapidated, and the air reeked of despair. He saw several more of those apparitions, all shimmering and utterly alien. In fact, there seemed to be much more of them than he had thought! Steeling himself, he flew toward the neighborhood.

The monkey-turned-swallow flew over the humans who called these slums - for the air to reek of such fear and hopelessness, what else could it be? - and pondered all that he saw. Why were there more of these apparitions here, hovering over the flat tops or slanted roofs of houses? Were they drawn to sin and poverty, for it seemed riper here than in the district with the glass spires?

And why were many of them…muted?

'There are but flickering spirits compared to the one attached to Glory Girl,' he thought, passing next to one. A line of shimmering rainbow mist connecting to the person's head, it gave him no notice as he flew right by it. Even the shape it flickered into was…a mess. 'This mortal bears no strength at all. Are they simply lesser forms, like the Tiers of Immortals?'

He flew deeper and deeper into the neighborhood, watching the lesser apparitions and the mortals attached to them. He soon rested himself upon a tall pole and kept observing, his thoughts churning in the lake of his mind.

Sometime later, a large metal carriage with many windows rolled down the street. Wukong's fascination with the sight vanished when the fumes from the contraption violated his senses and sneezed. 'Are all of these machines so dirty?'

People began to disembark from it and he idly took in their features. Unremarkable, weary, fatigued -

What.

A waif of a girl stepped out of the carriage. Thin and bony, her messy back hair fell behind her shoulders. A frame carrying two glass pieces rested on her nose. Her posture was hunched and as miserable as the ones before her, fidgeting with the bag strapped to her shoulders. An unfortunate-looking maiden, but that was unimportant to Wukong.

Because what he saw made him, once more, utterly freeze.

An apparition was linked to her head. It was a weak one, though it shone a little brighter than the rest, 'twas a wisp compared to the radiant one attached to Glory Girl. That wasn't what halted the Monkey King's attention.

The spirit flickered between shapes, and Wukong loudly chirped, a false nut caught in his throat.

One of those shapes, shining in a mere fraction of an instant with the power of the sun…was a golden cicada.

Chapter Text

YES, IT IS I!

You know the drill, read review moo, yodelayheehoo. I own nothing except my OCs.

Huge thanks to MentalForge, QAI521, storybookknight and bookie for beta-reading/helping! So without further ado, read on!

"Where did you go, Great King?" they cried. "We never expected that you would acquire such skills!"

"The year I left you all," Wukong said, "I drifted with the waves across the Great Eastern Ocean and reached the West Aparagodānīya Continent. I then arrived at the South Jambūdvīpa Continent, where I learned human ways, wearing this garment and these shoes. I swaggered along with the clouds for eight or nine years, but I had yet to learn the Great Art. I then crossed the Great Western Ocean and reached the West Aparagodānīya Continent. 17 After searching for a long time, I had the good fortune to discover an old Patriarch, who imparted to me the formula for enjoying the same age as Heaven, the secret of immortality."

"Such luck is hard to meet even after ten thousand afflictions!" the monkeys said, all congratulating him. "Little ones," Wukong said, laughing again, "another delight is that our entire family now has a name."

"What is the name of the great king?" "My surname is Sun," replied Wukong, "and my religious name is Wukong."

-Journey to the West, Chapter 2

As Sun Wukong stared at the thin girl as the metal carriage left in a roar, no words came to him. Not even in his mind.

Being left speechless was for lesser beings. If anything, he was the one who robbed others of their words once they saw his magnificent self and prowess. He had only been rendered speechless one other time…and never again. Now twice in one day? Absurd!

But what he saw was unmistakable.

'How can this be?'

He locked his gaze on the girl's apparition even as she began to walk away. Its brightness was as before, only a smidgen stronger than the other wisps he had seen. He flew to a nearby tree with naked branches and perched on it, trying to glimpse the golden shape from before.

'That was no hallucination or trick of the mind. The power behind that form was no lie. But how? The Golden Cicada…here!?'

He changed his focus to the girl. Her overshirt was baggy and faded, with only faint traces of its original color. Her brown eyes looked downwards, occasionally flitting to their edges, as if she watched for some unseen foe waiting to snap its jaws upon her should she lose her focus. The strange glass pieces, connected by a wired frame and rested upon the bridge of her nose were an odd piece of jewelry, but he assumed it was a local favorite of the womenfolk here. She wore no dress, but rather a pair of dark pants. Combined with her hunched shoulders and withdrawn head, she painted a picture of a weary and scared girl to whom life was not kind.

Yet all of this remained a minor detail for Wukong, for he still focused on the sliver of an anathema connected to the girl's head, trying to glimpse the golden insect as it flickered between shapes.

'The Golden Cicada was a disciple of Buddha, reincarnated over ten generations until he was reborn as Master Tang. It is not unheard of for a man to be reincarnated as a woman, though some see it as a result of bad karma. Heh. Bad karma? From Master Tang? After he achieved nirvana!? I'd be howling with laughter now if I wasn't trying to comprehend the situation!'

Wukong kept staring at the apparition, and even as he glimpsed tendrils, wings, and even flies, the cicada didn't appear.

'When Master was granted Buddhahood he was liberated from the samsara cycle…Is this a sign? Is the Buddha telling me that he isn't done with me yet? The work of some god I offended deciding to mess with me using my master's memories? Or is this some cosmic joke, because if it is, it has gone past the boundaries of humor the moment it instigated!'

He chirped and ruffled his feathers. 'Bah! Focus, Wukong! Do not lose your head and cluck around like some farmer's hen after the chop!' He returned his gaze to the girl, who was walking further away. 'Hm. She hardly looks like a nun or a priestess. Why her?'

He followed the girl as she walked down the street, always keeping one eye on her apparition. The wisp took no notice of him, content to float above her head. In fact, Wukong doubted the wisp took notice of…anything, other than the girl. '

Can these apparitions perceive me, even though these mortals do not perceive them?' Wukong thought, recalling the warped bodhisattva-like phantasm from his earlier fight. 'Such spirits can easily hide from humans. Glory Girl certainly made no mention of it, and the fact that my Golden Eyes were needed to see it strengthens that theory.' He quickly scanned the area around him and frowned internally. Despite Glory Girl's phantasm being exponentially stronger, only this weaker apparition had reacted to him. Why?

'As if that wasn't enough, the foul qi of this city does not affect these beings at all. Gah, to call them 'spirits' is confusing enough…and why would this one shift into the Golden Cicada?'

The girl soon stopped in front of a shabby house. It squatted two stories over the ground and was made of that strange stone these people were fond of using. Said stone was cracked and patches of mold were scattered along its face. The red-tiled roof had lost most of its coating and the wooden roof over its porch looked a moment away from rotting. She took a few deep breaths and headed up the stone walkway until she reached the flaky wooden door. The girl pulled a key from her pockets and entered the house, closing the creaking door behind her.

Listening to the dull thuds from within the house, Wukong flew to the second story and perched near a dirty glass window. Peering inside, he soon saw the door creak and the girl enter the room. An assortment of strange objects was inside, but the, sheet-covered large bed and desk took up most of the space. She took off her bag and flopped onto the bed, a choked sob escaping her muffled lips. 'So this is what mortals sleep on these days? She is no noble, that is certain. At least it seems more comfortable than those dreary mats.'

But as the girl curled up on herself, Wukong spotted the apparition…bloom, for lack of a better word. For a mere moment, it swelled in size and luminosity, and its shape grew more defined as it cycled through -

'There!'

He swore he saw it; the wings, the legs. But there was no gold. Unfortunately, another shape took its place in the blink of an eye. Then more came, even faster than before. Calm, yet rapid. His feathers bristled as he observed it.

'It was not the same as before. Did I imagine it?' the monkey-turned-swallow tried to recall the moment and shook his head again. 'Eighteen hells, this has been quite a day.'

The apparition had returned to its normal, iridescent glow. 'So, negativity fuels these wisps, or at least makes them react…like èguǐ, in a way.' Wukong stared at the twilit sky, the strings of his thoughts weaving into tangled webs, yet always missing the final branch to latch onto.

'The fact that these aberrations exist at all is disconcerting. Those uptight fools in the Celestial Court would never allow such things to exist.' If he had a mouth, he would've frowned. 'Anything outside their precious order must be bound or slain. So why?'

He then shifted his gaze to the miserable waif through the window. 'We might meet again soon, xiǎo mìmì.'

With those words, he took to the skies. The bay was drenched in a crimson hue, and already he could spot the rolling blanket of darkness that would soon envelop it. Strangely, few stars had begun their nightly shine, with only the Evening Star - how long has it been since he spoke with that crafty old spirit? - taking his rightful place in the heavens. Lights of blue, yellow, and white shone from the endless windows of the glass spires, even to their metallic pointed rooftops. Wukong recalled the people scurrying away from himself and Glory Girl when he had thrown her through one of the spires. Were the towers the dwellings of the local nobles, and the people their servants? He spotted the glowing domed island on the Eastern Sea, allowing him to view it in all its strange glory; a fortress of metal, capped by a shimmering blue hemisphere. It was similar to some of the castles he had seen, surrounded by magical barriers. 'Many of the powerful apparitions are congregated there,' he thought. 'Is that the castle of the city's lord? Was Glory Girl his heir, or one of his sorceresses? Her crown spoke of royalty.'

He pondered the matter for a moment before mentally shrugging. 'Oh well. Hardly the first noble I've pissed off. Though if she was a sorceress, her methods still elude me, as well as this whole matter with the apparitions. She was no immortal though.'
More mortals were out on the streets, and Wukong took a few moments to goggle at their queerness. When he had awakened, he had only noticed the most glaring differences of these new mortals, but now, under a shower of lights and sounds, the colors and details each stood out. Their clothes were so different, for both the men and the women. Skirts, shirts, and coats in all manner of colors and styles adorned their bodies, even their pitiful tufts of hair were all arranged with different styles. And their faces! Their postures! Their skin colors! The mortals of his land all bore similar features, with small variations. But here, it was a smattering of moustaches, tresses, bald heads, the familiar slanting eyes of his homeland's mortals right next to long noses and square jaws. The languages too were varied; as he flew closer, the most prominent one was what he read on signs and spoke to Glory Girl with - Yīngwén, the mantra told him - but he also heard smatterings of other tongues, even some stray words and phrases of Hànyǔ, though they sounded a tad different to what he remembered.

Many people held strange metal cases in their hands or held them up to their ears. Looking at one, he saw a glowing panel on it with images and words that changed as the man holding it touched each one. A few even had peculiar strings connected between the boxes and their ears, occasionally bobbing their heads. A strange fashion accessory, like pocket mirrors? He flew past one and heard a voice emanating from the box. The woman holding the box spoke to it, and when the box answered back, his eyes widened.

'Extraordinary! Whatever is inside the box, she is talking to it - no, him! Are these machines…is that a spirit in the box? But she sounds so worried about it - a mortal then? Is she communicating with another mortal? He sounds young - a lover? Remarkable!' a chitter escaped from his beak. 'So much for carrier pigeons! The Court would chafe at lowly mortals having such divine means of contact! How are they made? How do they work? I must know more - what is that smell?'

He was hit by a spicy aroma wafting from a colorful bag carried by a child with black skin, clutching his mother's hand. 'Ah, this lands street food. Looks tasty! Hmm, should I…?'

He thought about it for a second before swooping down and snatching the bag from the child's hand. Chucking at the child's surprised squeal, he flew upwards, landed on a nearby rooftop, and tucked his head into the bag, nibbling a piece from the yellow snack. Immediately he was hit with a wave of flavors that made him transform back to his normal self.

"How piquant! The spices are…what an odd combination. Is that peppercorn?" His mouth puckered and his tongue darted around his teeth as he looked at the flake closely. "And sourness too, all in one! What unnaturalness is this?... I must have more!" He raised the bag above his head and proceeded to dump the entirety of its contents into his waiting mouth. As chewed on the snack with gusto, he looked at the towering buildings around him, with all their lights, colors and sounds. He could even see flickers of red and blue near one of the spires, dancing away in those tall windows. This city was unlike any city he had seen before, the food so fascinating, its people so different that twice they caught him by surprise, in two different ways. The Monkey King, the great traveler, felt his gut bubble as the smile on his face formed and grew bigger and bigger, barely noticing he dropped the bag. Eventually, the bubbling grew so great that he could no longer contain himself, so he threw back his head and let it loose upon the world.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh truly, I am blessed beyond the heavens, to walk the earth and experience such marvels! If only those fools in the heavens could see me now! If all my travels led up to this, then all the hardships and trials were worth every ounce of misery! HAHAHAHAHAAA!"

Eventually, his cackling died down and he picked stray flakes from his fur. "I must learn more about this land and all its wonders! The food, the clothes, the devices, the sorcerers, everything!" He then looked northward, following the coastline. "Time to go treasure-hunting, for the bounty here is endless!"

"You okay there?"

Peizhi blinked and turned to his friend, the stupor quickly vanishing. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Just the heater sending a hot flash."

The half-shaven man gave him a side-eye, yet accepted his excuse and sipped his beer. The bartender placed a small dish of peanuts in front of him and he murmured a quick thanks. "You've been a little jumpy since you came here. Somethin' bothering you at the store?"

The Chinese shopkeeper shook his head and glanced at his half-full mug, but ultimately put it down. He surveyed the bar around him, listening to the clinking of glasses and muted murmurs of the patrons. The bar was a well-known hangout for the local workers of the Asian district, and while Peizhi wasn't a frequent patron, there were times when he met up and chatted with his fellow working men.

"Not really. Mostly jitters from the last attack."

His friend hummed. "I heard. Was loading up the stock when it went down. Anyone we know got hurt?"

"Mr. Wu's sister. Wrong place, wrong time. I saw her last week; said she wanted to buy one of those lucky cat statues for her brother."

His friend chuckled sardonically. "Fat lot of good it did her. I've half a mind to think those things turn off in this city."

While his words were harsh, Peizhi knew the man meant no ill. "It's still a nice thought. Junjie, your peanuts."

"Hm? Oh, sorry." Junjie pushed the dish away from the counter's edge. "Not sayin' that," he continued, grabbing a peanut and chewing on it. "But it makes you wish for once that good luck they're supposed to bring actually happens, y'know? Otherwise, what's the point?"

"Getting through life in one piece, I guess," replied Peizhi. He eyed the faded characters on the paper lanterns and the musty old bottles decorating the shelves across him. Has anyone in recent memory opened one of them, the ones on the top shelves?

"Okay, what's the deal, Peizhi?" Junjie's coarse Mandarin cut his musings. "This is more than just casualty news. I've seen you through enough of those, and this ain't it."

Peizhi felt his lips grow clammy as he tried to think of words to tell his friend. While part of him wanted to tell Junjie about the sheer insanity of the morning, a smaller part whispered to him that it was nothing more than a particularly vivid dream, brought about by stress and rotten beef. Maybe if he kept thinking that, it would turn out to be one.

"Just…saw a cape fly over my store this morning, almost crashed against my roof. Still trying to get it out of my system."

His friend's eyes widened and he froze right as he was about to munch on another peanut. Startled by the strong reaction, Peizhi quickly continued. "Nothing happened! He took off before I could even get a look at him!"

Junjie looked at him for a few more moments before huffing, the folds under his cheeks creasing like paper. "Alamak, don't feel bad, that could make anyone jumpy. What did he look like?"

"Uh, he was too fast, but he looked kind of old," Peizhi replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. While his Hokkien was almost nonexistent, even he knew the swear words, laced with concern as they were. "Don't think I've seen him before."

"Old huh?" Junjie squinted then shook his head. "Nah, don't know of anyone like that. Don't think I've seen him on the news either." He tapped the counter with a slow, almost rhythmic pace. "You think he's from a gang?"

Now Peizhi had to force any overt emotion from forming on his face. "Dunno."

His friend hummed again. Looking at his peanut plate and then his empty mug, Junjie sighed and slumped forward, making the dirty stool underneath him creak. His smile was wan and laced with contempt. The bags under his hard eyes sagged further, and his strands of gray hair made him look older than his senior of a few years who Peizhi knew him to be.

"What kind of a place this city is, where we have to worry whether or not we'll get blown to bits by some psycho come morning?"

Sometimes Peizhi wondered about that too. He'd asked his father a similar question several times when he was alive. Business and the rewards of one's efforts meant little when your shop could get torched or cratered out of existence. But his baba had always chuckled and lightly rapped him on the head, telling him not to ask rhetorical questions. Whatever answer his father thought he already knew, Peizhi didn't understand. It was probably one of those 'it's my home, so I gotta stay' answers he'd pull from an old book. Although…he did say one other thing:

'When you've built a home with your own two hands, you don't just protect it, you strive to make it better. Otherwise, what is the point of building it at all?'

…he still didn't understand, even after all these years. What was the point of building a house in a city that could destroy it at a moment's notice?

"A shithole?"

Junjie guffawed. "You got that right!" His smile had regained some warmth, which crinkled the corners of his eyes. "So, anything else interesting happening or was that the highlight of the month?"

The two chatted their way over light drinks and more peanuts. Despite his earlier desire to drink himself silly, he refrained from ordering the stronger spirits and stuck to beer. Others who came and went were not so restrained; he'd spotted a bottle of high-grade sake, the one worth a good month's wage being delivered to a raucous table. Some acquaintances came and went, and the two bid them waves and farewells. Time passed and the streetlights came on, shining through the windows.

"Well, I should go back, otherwise I'll start drinking you under the table," said Peizhi.

"Hah! You wish!" Junjie replied, sending him a one-finger salute as he put on his coat. Peizhi returned the gesture and headed out of the bar.

The streets were quiet, with only a few people out and about. Peizhi pulled on his coat tighter as he briskly headed back to his shop. The streetlights did little to illuminate the darkened streets and musty alleys, with half of them flickering on and off. The shopkeeper didn't focus on the shadows, where a gangster or druggie might jump him. The thought alone made him retreat into his coat like a turtle in its shell and speed-walked the whole way, not pausing for a single moment. He didn't run though, that would attract attention - the last thing any sane person wanted in Brockton Bay.

Finally, he reached the familiar walls of his shop. Closing the door behind him and locking it tightly, he groaned and leaned on it. The unseen tons of stress from the whole day faded away within seconds.

"No point in cleaning now," he mumbled. "A light sweep'll be fine."

So he snagged a broom and dustpan from the closet and began sweeping. He idly hummed a tune as he cleaned the aisles and straightened the odd figurine on a shelf. The morning seemed a distant dream now…and maybe it was.

'It had to be the beef. I thought the expiration date looked fishy. I'll have to get a fresh packet from the market early tomorrow.'

When he finished, Peizhi put the tools away and climbed the stairs to his room. When he checked the time on his nightstand, he was surprised by how early it was. '7:30 PM? Huh, that felt longer.'

He threw his coat on the bed and was about to prepare for a shower when he paused. 'Maybe some tea will end this day on a better note.'

Nodding to himself, he went to the small kitchenette and prepared a pot of water. After he turned on the stove, he sat in his chair and sighed, all while a content smile blossomed on his face.

'Huh, maybe it really was a bad dream. Well, nothing to be done about it.'

When his mental timer went off he picked up the pot and slowly poured the boiling water into the teapot. Using the special blend Mrs. Bao gave him at the spice store, he blended the tea and poured himself a cup.

Peizhi lifted the cup, took a deep whiff of the tea's earthly scent -

There was a knock on his window.

"Peizhi-xiānshēng!"

-and went stock-still.

'No…no, please, no…'

He slowly turned, his face frozen in a rictus of surprise, terror, and a pinch of despair to the window, only for the memory of the entire morning to come careening right in his face, full-throttle.

There he was, perched cross-legged on his staff, with a plastic bag and a toothy smile, right outside his window.

The monkey cape who'd eaten his stew and almost sent him into a drunken fit, the self-proclaimed Sun Wukong.

"How lovely to see you again! I have had the most spectacular day, and I am brimming with questions! May I enter?"

Peizhi's eye twitched as the monkey stared at him, the smile never leaving his face. This had to be a nightmare, or the beer, because there was no way he was that unlucky -

Wukong rapped on the window. "Peizhi-xiānshēng? Hello? Can you hear me?"

'It's not a nightmare…' Peizhi thought, internally sagging with hopelessness. 'Why…why me?'

Maybe he could run? Fat chance. Make up an excuse? And risk offending the crazy monkey-man? 'Of course! Simply sign your name on the dotted line for an express ride to the morgue and we'll be all set!'

…it's no question, is it?

He slowly put his cup down and walked to the window. Slowly opening the latch, he lifted the panel, meeting the monkey's gaze head-on.

"Ah, W-Wukong, wonderful to see you too," he said with a smile that most certainly didn't tremble. From the corner of his eye, he thanked his ancestors that no one else was on the streets. If anyone saw this…

He stepped back and gestured to his room. "M-Might you come in? I've just prepared a p-pot of tea."

Wukong nodded, that smile ever-present. "I would be honored to join you. Pardon the intrusion!"

He hopped through the window and stood ramrod straight. Then, he reached out the window and tapped the staff, making it shrink until it vanished in his hand. The monkey tucked the now-tiny staff into his ear and bowed with his hands clasped before him. Peizhi stared dazed at the gesture - one he had only seen in some old Chinese dramas -and made a clumsy little bow of his own.

"Y-you should have told me you would be c-coming later," the shopkeeper said as he went to his cupboard and pulled out another cup, forcing his hands not to shake. Unfortunately, his stuttering remained unaffected. "I would have p-prepared more sub-substantial offering than this t-tea."

Wukong waved his hand. "Bah, the fault is mine. I was so wrapped up in my activities that I forgot to notify you. I shall have to partake in your stew another day."

Peizhi placed the new cup on the table and reached for the teapot before his eyes widened. He quickly gestured to his chair and Wukong sat upon it, his tail drooping between its wooden rails. The shopkeeper finally took the pot and, mustering every bit of his self-control, gently poured his…guest…tea.

As he poured it high like he had seen his father do with some guests, the trickling liquid sounded like sand tumbling down an hourglass, with each drop symbolizing a grain. What if he didn't like the tea?

Peizhi tried to push the worst outcome from his mind as he finished pouring and handed the teacup to Wukong with both hands. The monkey grasped the cup the same way and after sniffing it, gave it a sip.

To Peizhi's great relief, his guest smacked his lips and his smile grew wider. "Oh, how long has it been since I had a refreshing tea? Is this blend yours?"

Peizhi shook his head, some of the tightness loosening from his limbs. Wukong shrugged in response and after a couple more sips, set the cup aside.

"Now, I've been out exploring this magnificent city and I saw many intriguing things! Nothing like back home, dare I say it would make any lord there weep blood!" He raised the plastic bag he had been holding from the floor. "I stumbled upon some wares and goods of this fine city, but I confess I have no clue as to what they are and their purpose. When I thought of who to ask about their nature, I remembered you and your delicious stew. So, being a resident of this city, I humbly ask that you teach me all about it and its secrets."

For a moment, silence reigned. The shopkeeper's mind halted as he processed the unbelievable words.

"You…want me to…teach you? About Brockton Bay?"

Seeing Wukong's nod, Peizhi quietly drummed his fingers on the underside of his chair. This was…completely out of the blue, to be honest. "W-what exactly did you have in mind?"

Wukong reached into the bag and placed a small black object before him. "I've seen other mortals talk into these little black cases. What are they?"

Peizhi blinked and looked at the object. "Um…that's a phone." Maybe he really was a Case 53? Then why did he call himself Sun Wukong? "People use them to talk to each other?"

"How is that done?"

The man picked up the phone and slightly cringed. It was an older model, and it was stained with brown spots. No question as to where his guest got it from. Peizhi put down the phone and pulled his own one from his pocket.

He turned the device on and showed the screen to Wukong, who leaned in. "Every phone has a number. If you want to call someone, you just type in their number like this," he demonstrated. "Then you can save it under the person's name to call them again."

Wukong stroked his chin and nodded. "I see...yes, I had suspected so when I saw them, but now…and who can you call with this 'phone'?"

"Anyone in the world I want, as long as I have their number."

"Anyone in the world…" Wukong whispered, a gleam in his red eyes. "You are not being poetic, correct?" At Peizhi's nod, he laughed merrily. "Oh, how wondrous! To speak to a friend over oceans and mountains…" he trailed off and giggled, "If the messengers of the heavenly court would see this, I'd wager they'd either throw a fit or prostrate themselves before this device! And they are commonplace, yes? I hardly saw anyone without one on their person."

Peizhi nodded and saw the monkey's tail wag briefly. Why was he acting like a puppy? "So anyone can speak to anyone…how are they made?"

"They're made in…factories?"

"What is a 'factory'?"

"A giant house where people can make lots of things very quickly. As in, in less than a day, they can make hundreds of phones." Was he truly unaware as he claimed to be?

Wukong examined the dirty phone with the care of a jeweller. "I have so many more questions…but later! Can you make this work like yours does?" he asked, pointing to the cracked screen.

"Um, sorry. That one is broken."

"Broken?" he looked at the phone from all sides. "Hmm, yes, that does make sense, otherwise who would throw out such a treasure?"

Withdrawing the phone, he pulled out the next item from the bag. "What is this?"

"Um, those are boxers. Underwear."

Wukong looked at the dirty rag and took a sniff. His eyes widened and he recoiled before flinging it out the open window. Hoping no one saw that, Peizhi kept his eyes on the bag.

"I tried these and my tongue fell in love! What are they called and what are they made of!?"

"Those are nacho chips and I think they're made from flour and cheese…" and chemicals but Peizhi had no idea how to explain that to him. He watched with confusion as Wukong tore open the bag and shoved its contents into his mouth. Wait, where did he even get a bag of chips from?

"Blessed be the makers of this treat!" He threw the bag over his shoulder. "Where are they sold?"

"Er, in groceries, supermarkets." At his questioning look, Peizhi added, "Food shops. They have all kinds of flavors."

"Then I shall try all of them!" Wukong leaned forward and drummed his hands on the table. "The metal wagons outside, are they cart yaoguai that the mortals have enslaved?"

"Wha - no!" Peizhi replied with alarm. "They're machines! They work on gasoline - not plant oil - and we make them in factories!"

'The hell? Yaoguai? Like, from the old stories? Where the hell did that come from!?'

"Ah, the place you spoke of earlier…do you have one?"

Peizhi shook his head. "No, I don't really need one. And the good ones are expensive."

While the monkey pouted at first (pouted!?), he then nodded. "Understandable, that such marvels come at a cost, even if it is as superficial as wealth."

The man looked at Wukong as he hummed and scratched his fur. He didn't act like an amnesiac. He was too sure of himself, too casual, like he'd been doing this for a very long time.

'It's like he really believes he is Sun Wukong.'

Peizhi felt himself slack and leaned forward. The air had lost much of its former tension and felt less like a gang visit…and more like a casual meeting…between old friends.

'I've just met him and was nearly shitting myself a moment ago.'

His guest chuckled playfully and reclined on the chair. "Oh, what fun! This Old Sun hasn't learned so much in so little time!" His smile grew more relaxed as he looked at the lightbulb above them. "Even the sun has been tamed and stored in little bottles…the lord of your city is generous."

"Uh, we don't have a lord. A mayor leads the city, and the people elect him."

"'Mayor'? Odd title. Is that like a governor?" he asked. "Hmm. What a novel thought. My kin crowned me in a similar fashion. Did your leader fight a demon and display his corpse to the people to gain their favor?"

"Wha- no, he didn't!" replied Peizhi, though the thought made him chuckle internally. A politician who actually got off his podium, in Brockton no less? He might as well ask for pork chops to rain from the heavens.

"Then how did he gain their favor?"

"He made speeches and promises, and in the end, enough people believed him over the others."

"Did he keep any of those promises?"

"That's a…" Peizhi looked away. "Different matter."

Wukong chuckled. "Good to see officials stay the same, no matter the lands they're from. Still, he must be a mortal of great influence, to dwell in such a splendid magical fortress."

The shopkeeper blinked. "Fortress?"

"Yes, the one out on the water. I have never seen a barrier so obvious. Haven't your sorcerers more subtle means of protection?"

What on earth was he - oh.

The dread from before was starting to churn again. "That's not his…fortress. That's where the…" he bit his lip. How to explain the PRT, with all of his gripes toward them? "Heroes work."

Wukong tilted his head before his eyes widened. "Ah yes, that's what she called herself. Is this how the sorcerers of this land are referred to? Was she trained by a Celestial Envoy?"

The last question puzzled the shopkeeper. "Celestial Envoy? What do you mean?"

"You know, the powerful beings who descend from the heavens. They are numerous, but surely a few of them visited this city. I sensed a great deal of sorcerers in that magic dome. Judging by the poor qi around here, a Celestial must have taught them some secret technique. Awfully generous of them."

Peizhi tried to form a reply. So much weirdness was in that sentence that he didn't know where to start.

"Wukong…when you say a Celestial Spirit, do you mean like," he briefly hesitated, "the Jade Emperor?"

The monkey's eyes widened. "That lazy, upstart miser was here!? He actually removed his overweight self and descended upon the Earth!? Well, this explains many things -"

"No! No, he wasn't," interjected Peizhi, licking his lips with worry. "No Celestial Spirit ever visited this city or anywhere in the country." 'Or the world.'

"I don't think anyone believes they exist."

He knew there were people in the District who still prayed. They had small shrines with incense sticks and performed rituals during the Chinese New Year. But it was tradition, nothing more. How could you believe in stories like that considering the world?

"...'they don't exist'?"

Now Wukong really paused. He looked at Peizhi for a while in a manner that made him want to back away. He then pressed his hand over his mouth and hummed - or mumbled - something inaudible to him as his other hand tapped the table with its claws. Peizhi wanted to ask him more but he recognized that stormy look - no one wanted to be interrupted when they were thinking like that. So he kept silent.

Finally, the monkey removed his hand from his mouth and exhaled deeply. He then sniffed from the teacup and around him before meeting Peizhi's nervous gaze again.

"Apologies, Peizhi-xiānshēng. I was merely lost in thought. It shouldn't trouble you for now. Where were we?"

He smiled and Peizhi knew right away it was forced, at least partially. One learns to act polite around Lung's men lest they suffer. But he didn't want to antagonize his guest, especially when he seemed to have calmed down.

"We talked about Heroes -"

"Yes yes, of course. Rather pretentious, no? Especially with a name like hers."

"But that's what they are; people who use their powers to -" he paused as part of that sentence blared in his ears. "Wait, hers?"

Wukong nodded. "Yes, the girl. I had thought her merely bratty despite her skills, but I see her words hold truth."

No.

Oh no. Please…

"She still has much to learn if she wants to live up to her title. 'Glory Girl' is a tad presumptuous, no?"

Peizhi's jaw dropped and his throat squeaked. "Y-you m-met Glory Girl?"

The monkey didn't notice his distress and replied in the affirmative. "I challenged her to a spar to see if she was all talk. Naturally, I won, though I did uncover something vexing. With what you've said to me now, this only raises more questions…"

If Wukong continued, Peizhi didn't hear it, because the sound of shattered glass echoed in his ears. He'd heard the news of a cape fight involving the teen hero and how it left several buildings damaged. No casualties or injuries were listed, but the reporter claimed that 'eyewitnesses saw the New Wave member getting smacked around like a rag doll.'

'That was him!?'

Great. He was harboring a criminal now.

The table thudding broke him from his haze and saw Wukong putting down his teacup. "I still have much to learn about this land, Peizhi-xiānshēng. I can rest anywhere I please, but I'm afraid I must acclimate further to this city's pungent air. For all its wonders, you mortals really messed up with that. Foul air begets foul minds after all. Would you be willing to host me for the time being?"

Peizhi couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had to be dreaming again, he just had to.

"H-host you? As in, sleep here?"

"Yes. I have grown rather fond of your company and would like our lessons to continue with as little interruption as possible. I promise to cause as little disturbance to your business as I can."

…

…

He didn't know how long he stared at Wukong, mainly because he was wracking his mind for an excuse, any excuse, to keep the monkey out.

"A-ah, while I would be honored to host you Wukong, I-I'm afraid that, well…" he swallowed. "Remember the m-magical fortress? Th-the sorcerers there are called Heroes because they f-fight Villains in this city, and there are a f-few here in the neighborhood."

He gathered his breath to continue, but Wukong interjected. "You are afraid of repercussions if I am discovered with you? Hm." He leaned back again and rocked the chair back and forth, balancing it on one leg. "I am not surprised. There will always be ruffians who will use magic for evil. It is mortal nature and inevitable. I will pay them their due visits of course, but I would not wish to trouble you with their trivial reprisals…" he stroked his hairy chin, akin to a kung-fu master from an old movie. After a few seconds, he turned to look at Peizhi.

"Is this whole house yours?"

The shopkeeper blinked, then nodded. "Y-yes. My father bought the whole building along with the apartment."

"Your father, eh? Very well."

Wukong stood up and hopped through the window. Peeking his head out, Peizhi saw the staff pop into the monkey's hand, who then proceeded to drag it on the ground and go around the house. Bolting from the room, Peizhi went downstairs and through the doorway just as Wukong came around the other side, still dragging the staff.

The moment Wukong crossed his path though, the air flashed red.

Peizhi jumped back as he stared at the ground. There, resting below the tip of Wukong's staff, was a long black mark that shimmered with tinges of red. He looked back up and saw the monkey looking at him with satisfaction.

"There! As long as I will it, no ruffian or troublemaker will be able to harm this humble shop or anyone within the circle."

He twirled the staff and swung it over his shoulder. "Would that alleviate your worries, Peizhi-xiānshēng?"

The poor man looked back and forth between the line and Wukong, his mouth stammering as he tried to form words.

'Say no, say no, absolutely not! You still have a chance, Peizhi Luo. You can still avoid having the gangs be after your sorry little head if you just tell the self-proclaimed Sun Wukong no!'

…

"...thank you?"

Chapter Text

YES! IT IS I!

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Huge thanks to MentalForge, QAI521, bookie and TrajectoryAgreement for betaing this chapter!

Thick clouds in vast formation moved o'er the world;

Black fog and dusky vapor darkened the Earth;

Waves churned in seas and rivers, affrighting fishes and crabs;

Boughs broke in mountain forests, wolves and tigers taking flight.

Traders and merchants were gone from stores and shops.

No single man was seen at sundry marts and malls.

The king retreated to his chamber from the royal court.

Officials, martial and civil, returned to their homes.

This wind toppled Buddha's throne of a thousand years

And shook to its foundations the Five-Phoenix Tower.

-Journey to the West, chapter 3

Sun Wukong twisted and turned on the thick mattress as he played with the thin blanket his host had given him. It was a very soft mattress, which he learned was standard in this land. It couldn't compare in the slightest to lying upon spring clouds or the golden silks of the Palace of the Polestar, but much better than woven mats. He looked at the cracked ceiling, with its splotches of dirt and the empty lightbulb hanging in the middle. A simple mechanism, turning lights on and off with a switch and no magic. After fifty or so times though, the novelty wore off.

'This room could easily belong in a noble's mansion with a small clean-up. A new coat of paint wouldn't hurt as well. For all this ingenuity, these mortals love their drab buildings, glass spires notwithstanding. Even farmers colored their walls." He sighed and let out a chuckle. 'Look at me, mulling over details of a ceiling in bed like a sick man who fears slumber. I don't even need sleep!'

While that much was true - Wukong could abstain from sleep for three whole years - he still liked to sleep, or at least lay down and laze around. A habit from his peaceful days as ruler of Flower-Fruit Mountain that he had no intention of breaking.

'If only I could drift off with nary a care, but alas, more troubling matters have seized my attention.'

The Jade Emperor does not exist.

The gods do not exist.

The Great Sage sat up and ensconced himself in the blanket, draping it over his head and shoulders like a cassock. Those words, spoken as such a basic and obvious truth, jarred him greatly, and despite covering up his shock quickly from his host, Peizhi's claim did not recede from his mind in the slightest.

'The sheer absurdity of that statement…how is it possible?' Wukong thought, restraining himself from scratching the frail blanket. 'Every mortal knows of the gods and their power. They are part of the world and the order of creation, even if they deem themselves above it. Even the most remote villages and hamlets had local gods assigned to them, along with their own superstitions. The records of divine deeds are intensive and their remnants upon the earth are visible to all mortals. To say nothing of the feats and powers of the Buddhists. Heh, for all their claims of detachment from earthly affairs, they will revel in any praise from mortals, the lavisher the better.'

He stroked his chin and looked out the window, where a streetlight's faint halo bloomed in the darkness.

'Is it because this is a distant land with strange people, across a great ocean, that Peizhi-xiānshēng says his words with such surety? Yet distance matters little to the divine and enlightened. Why, the sons of Ao Guang swim and leap throughout the four cardinal seas and do not hesitate to puff and flaunt their ridiculous plumage to all mortals and spirits who see them.'

Steepling his clawed hands, a scratchy hum emanated from his lips.

'No, it is not that he claimed no knowledge of the gods, else how would he speak of the Jade Emperor? He claimed that they do not exist. As if they were a made-up fable.'

He fell and rolled in his mattress again. 'Bah, there are too many words missing from this riddle!'

He kept ruminating on this new knowledge, trying to find reasoning to counter it. Unfortunately, nothing came to him. Eventually, a soft knock drew him from his thoughts.

"Uh, Wukong? Are you awake?"

He shook his head and slowly stood, the blanket falling off him and landing beside him soundlessly. Looking to the window, he spotted the faint strokes of dawn dyeing the night sky. Was he so deep in thought? Using his tail, he opened the door to see his host standing there, his hands clasped together and a weak smile on his face.

Wukong gave a much wider smile and bowed. "Fair morning to you, Peizhi-xiānsheng. I thank you once more for your hospitality."

"Ah, good morning to you too. D-did I wake you?"

"No no, I was meditating on yesterday's events before you knocked. I enjoyed the mattress, very bouncy."

Peizhi's eyes flickered to the object in question. "I'm glad to hear that," he replied, his voice measured and tinged with confusion, though Wukong knew not why. "I have some tea and breakfast ready if you want to eat."

"Splendid! Lead the way!"

His host turned and Wukong followed him, immediately smelling the strong scents of tea and rice. When they came to the kitchen, a teapot and two bowls of rice porridge were laid out on the table, as were two empty cups.

"I don't have any stew today, so I hope you'll enjoy this," Peizhi said, gesturing to the table.

Wukong pulled back a chair, sat before a bowl, and inhaled. The aroma filled his lungs and his smile grew. "This smells magnificent! You are quite the accomplished cook!"

Peizhi blinked before slowly rubbing his head and ducking away. "It's nothing special. I eat it a lot in the mornings, helps me start the day."

The man sat before the other bowl and poured tea for them both. A quick bow later, Wukong happily slurped down his bowl.

"Ah, how long has it been since I've had a good bowl of porridge?" he asked, setting down the now-empty bowl. "You have a talent for cooking, Peizhi-xiānshēng. Take pride in it, for it is worthy of boasting. May I have another?"

His host's cheeks grew flushed, but the twitching lips he hid were plain as day to Wukong, even as he poured another serving into the Monkey King's bowl. The two resumed eating, though this time Wukong slowed his pace and savored the simple dish. The tea was the same blend as yesterday's and tasted just as good.

Wukong shifted in his place and the chair squeaked. Yet another odd detail. "Are chairs commonplace in this land? I've seen no mats for sitting or sleeping. The beds are also raised, why is that?"

Peizhi swallowed his food and hummed, his visage morphing into one of uncertainty. "That's just how it's done here and in most of the world. It's much more comfortable than a mat."

He looked at both chairs and rocked his own before grinning. "Quite right! No lumps or dirt landing in your clothes!" Peizhi idly nodded and returned to his meal, shifting his gaze between his bowl and Wukong. All the while, the Monkey King took another sip of tea, the brew flowing down his throat and soothing his mind.

'Hm, a simple meal and tea like this to start the day…what fond memories. The sand monk's brewing skills were superb among our little group.'

His smile dimmed momentarily as the issue that had plagued his slumber rose to his mind's forefront once more, nearly undoing the tea's work. 'Bah, can I not even enjoy a meal without falling into this spiralling pit!?'

He put down the cup and stopped his host from rising. "A most delightful meal Peizhi-xiānsheng, thank you. I'll go for a stroll around this quaint district of yours, so I shan't trouble you further this morning."

He moved to rise from the chair only to catch the color leaving his host's face. Odd, he hadn't done anything (thus far) to warrant such a reaction.

"Have I offended you?"

Peizhi quickly shook his head. "N-no, it's not like that! It's just, erm…" he gestured at the Monkey King, weaving his hands like he was trying to grab some object. "You are very, how to say, distinct. I'm worried that people will remember you and follow you back here," he winced as he finished the sentence.

"Ah, but I have placed this shop under my protection, don't you recall? No harm will come to it or you, regardless of my actions."

The man hesitantly glanced in the direction of the window. "Yes…but I'm not always here."

'Oh? Was that all?'

Wukong chuckled and gently waved at his host. "Your concern is understandable, Peizhi-xiānshēng, but you may put your mind at ease. If I do catch the attention of the masses, I will do my utmost to ensure I shan't be followed."

His host stammered wordlessly at his proclamation - no doubt enthralled by his generosity - before sighing and drooling his head down, giving him the slightest of nods. "...if you say so."

Wukong flashed him another toothy grin, and opened the window, letting the morning breeze caress his fur. He hopped out the window and landed outside of the circle. After he dusted off his blue robe, he turned around and saw Peizhi stick his head out the window with a worried countenance.

He gave the merchant a quick bow and somersaulted into the air, traveling barely more than a second before landing on a rooftop. Quickly hopping past a few more, he landed on a flat roof topped with white canisters and blocky decorations. Were they also a type of machinery, designed to aid whoever lived in this house?

He gazed at the field of gray stone and black tiles, casting their shadows across the streets as the Sun sent forth its first rays from the sea. Creaks and mutters began to trickle from the houses, its residents no doubt starting their day. Wukong took a deep breath and let the smell of the sea from afar and the wafting aromas of food from nearby fill his being.

'Not all that dissimilar from back home. Peasants and lords waking up for work, each all set about their course in life.' His nose wrinkled as a grumble escaped him. 'Ēmítuófó, this city's pungency is a fixture, is it? No, I shall have to get used to it, at least until I find a solution.'

Wukong sat down on the roof's ledge and idly kicked the air. Humming to himself, he looked up at the sky and felt his grin shrink until only the corners of his mouth supported it. Despite Peizhi's hearty meal, the topic from earlier still rattled around in his stone head.

"The bridge is too broken to cross this river," he softly said to himself. "Why is fact fable here?"

He looked to the sky and narrowed his eyes. He saw the past the sea of clouds and through the veil of fog, permeated with dirt and muck. The heavens morphed into inky blackness and the curtain of endless stars were displayed before him. Floating objects flew past his eye, dotted with flickering lights. He almost blinked and felt his tongue dart out of his mouth.

'These are no Celestial creations. Have the mortals wrought machines that reached the very heavens?'

He tried to focus on one such device, but a loud whirring from behind him broke his concentration. His sight pulled back from the sky and saw behind him a metal fan spinning inside one of the stone decorations. The air blowing from the fan blew past his nose and he grimaced.

'Gah, is this why the air is so foul?' He stepped closer and raised his hand, intending to rip the offending contraption out of the stone when he saw that it wasn't the only one; there were at least a few of them on every roof!

'What purpose could these possibly serve? Don't these mortals know that clean air provides a clean mind and body? What could be worth mucking up the air like this?'

Wukong snorted and surveyed his surroundings again. 'Is there a place worthy of meditation here? I do not wish to disturb Peizhi-xiānsheng so soon after leaving…' he trailed off as he kept looking until he spotted a flash of green tucked a few buildings away. His smile returned and he hopped across rooftops until he reached his goal: a small spot of grass, criss-crossed with stone pathways, standing starkly in contrast to the grey buildings around it. Benches and tables lined its edges, and at least half of the whole area was within the shade of a -

'A willow tree,' the Monkey King shook his head, his simple still present. 'Oh, how delightful.'

He moved next to the tree and rubbed one hand on its bark, the other gently picking up a golden leaf and caressing it between his fingers.

'Ah, if Lady Guanyin were to appear, she would weep in sorrow. No tree should be so enclosed by grime and rock,' he brought the leaf to his nose and sniffed it. 'Yet I smell care and resilience in this one. To grow and flourish in such conditions speaks well of its tenacity and the good nature of its gardener.'

He sat down at the base of the willow and settled into the lotus position. Taking a deep breath, he held the leaf in two hands and looked to the skies once more.

'If mortalkind has indeed breached the skies with these machines…why hasn't Heaven intervened? They are a jealous lot, I know better than most. Mortals remain below, and the gods and Buddhas remain above. An enlightened mortal or two, they would accept, but not this.' As he kept staring past the clouds and into the sea of stars, he spotted more of the objects flying past his eyes at breakneck speeds. 'There are quite a number of them…how long have these mortals been building them? And what are they doing up there, drifting above the world?'

He shifted his gaze from the sky to the south, humming as a gentle wind rustled the willow's branches. In a flash of gold that lasted a heartbeat, he spied the broken silhouettes peeking above the buildings, morphing and shimmering against the golden sky.

'These apparitions - and the so-called 'heroes' - are another enigma,' he thought. 'Peizhi-xiānshēng spoke of them as commonplace. I have yet to ask him if that is simply the case for this city or this whole kingdom of Meiguo, but even if not, they are far from subtle. One would think that the Celestial Armies would have stricken them down by now, and I've no doubt they most certainly would.

Then why haven't they?'

The Sun had begun its climb in the azure seas above. A few leaves danced as they fell from the willow's branches on the autumn wind.

'I could simply ask the local Tǔdì about the situation; they were always a helpful sort. Only I struggle to conceive of any Tudi who would live in this swamp of foul qi. Or…'

As Wukong thought of Heaven and its Hosts, his mood grew sour and his grip on the leaf tightened. He hadn't been averse to the strange murkiness within him whenever he thought of Heaven. He had suffered their distaste for him thoroughly and despite the friendships he had forged during his time there, he wasn't blind to their faults - not in the slightest. One would think his great journey would've put old grievances behind, but…

'There was a matter…and an argument. I remember the trees and rivers of my home, my children welcoming me with adoration. Then…'

Words.

Thunder.

Blades.

Screams.

Silence.

He held back a wince. The rest was naught but darkness and stone, until he awoke under moonlight next to a humble shop. 'Yet another riddle. Since I arrived in this city, I remember only those sensations. What happened to me, to have ferried me so far from my mountain?'

He felt himself sink deeper and deeper into his consciousness, trying to unveil the fog, when he felt a tap on his foot. Wukong's eyes shot open and a few paces away, wearing a blue shirt with white letters, was a little boy, barely a few winters old.

The child looked at him, his expression and countenance frozen in shock. Wukong looked down and saw an orange ball next to his knee. Looking back up, he took the ball and held it aloft.

"Hello there child. Is this your ball?"

The boy looked back and forth between him and the ball and slowly nodded.

"Do you want it back?" he asked. The poor child looked a moment away from running to the hills. Wukong gently rolled the ball to the child, watching him gingerly pick it up while never looking away.

Inwardly, the Monkey King shook his head. He may be a lot of things, but he would never make a child cry. Carefully raising his hand, he plucked a hair from his head. At the child's confused look, he blew on it and in a puff of smoke, the hair had transformed into a wooden rattle-drum.

The boy gaped at his magic and Wukong giggled loudly. He shook the rattle-drum before holding it out for the boy. The boy bit his lip, gripping the ball tightly, then tentatively began to approach Wukong. As he slowly stepped toward him, Wukong did his best not to move. Finally, once the boy was within arm's reach, Wukong placed the toy in the child's outstretched little palm. The boy quickly stepped back, still eyeing Wukong suspiciously, before he looked at the rattle-drum and gave it a shake. The two tethered balls struck the leather drum and thudded. He gave it a few more shakes and the toy rattled again.

"What is your name, child?" asked Wukong in the native tongue.

The boy froze for a moment before biting his lip. "Thao," he replied.

"Thao," Wukong repeated, rolling the name in his mouth. "That's a strong name."

The boy - Thao - stared at Wukong, drifting up and down his body. "Are you really a monkey?"

Wukong puffed up. "Why, of course I am a monkey!" He grabbed his tail and waved it in front of his face. "I wouldn't have this tail if I wasn't a monkey, would I?"

Thao looked at the tail in astonishment, his little eyes following its sway. "What kind of monkey are you? Mom got me a book with monkeys. There was one with a big red butt, another with a funny face, but I don't remember a talking monkey."

Wukong dropped his tail and grabbed another leaf, which he then twirled between his fingers. "I am a magic monkey!" He blew on the leaf and it turned into a small paintbrush.

"Cool! How did you do that?"

"Magic!" he exclaimed, handing over the brush. Thao took the brush from his hand and examined it.

"What brings you to this fine garden, Thao? Playing with your ball?"

"Y-yeah," Thao nodded. "Mom's over there sleeping and she said I could play if I stayed in the park. I kicked the ball away and it hit you…" he looked down sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

He waved him off. "'Tis fine, Thao." He gestured to the ball. "What game were you playing?"

"Um, I was just kicking it. My friends couldn't come over to play." He frowned. "Sister doesn't like playing with a ball."

"Hmm, most women don't like men's games," Wukong rubbed his chin then snapped his fingers, eyes comically wide. "That's it! I could play with you!"

"Really?" Thao asked, his eyes glimmering with hope.

"Of course! I haven't played a game in ages! I used to play all the time with my friends," Wukong rose and dusted his robes. "How do we play?"

The little boy smiled and was about to reply when he stopped and looked at his new toys. Seeing his expression, Wukong giggled.

"You can put your gifts right on the ground, little one. No one will steal them from you."

"Uh, okay!" he placed the rattle and brush next to him and moved the ball to his feet. "I kick the ball and you kick too. If I miss, I lose, if you miss, you lose."

"Then let us begin!" the Monkey King cried, bouncing on his toes.

Thao drew back, his pudgy little face scrunched up, and kicked the ball at Wukong. Said simian eyed the ball as it rolled toward him and batted it back with his tail.

Thao's eyes widened at the action even as the ball rolled back to him. "Cool!"

"I am very warm, but thank you for your concern. Do you need a coat?"

"Uh, no," Thao replied, looking at him strangely. "You're cool means you're…" he thought hard and squinted. "Awesome! You're awesome!"

Now that was a word Wukong understood. "Why thank you, little Thao."

Thao keeps staring at him, though he spots the boy flickering to his tail. "Are you a superhero? Like the ones here?"

Wukong tilted his head. "A super-hero? Funny title. I have been called something similar…" At Thao's continued staring, he flashed him a grin. "Let's make a little bet. If you win, I'll tell you if I'm a hero."

Thao nodded determinedly. "Okay! I'm gonna win, you'll see!"

"Hah! That's the spirit!"

Thus the two, a monkey and a boy, began playing their little game. Back and forth went the ball, with Thao kicking it and Wukong using his tail, hopping from side to side on one foot. While the boy was engrossed in the game, a smile of his own plastered between his plump cheeks, Wukong noted that some adults were watching them, through windows and doors. No one approached them - in fact, the few who passed nearby seemed skittish, but he spotted a couple taking out their…phones…and holding them high. 'How odd,' he thought. 'Peizhi-xiānsheng said they were used for communicating with each other and yesterday I saw people holding them next to their ears. To what purpose are they doing this?'

He mentally shrugged. 'I will ask him later. For now, I think the little one deserves a prize.'

As Thao kicked the ball at him with a yell, Wukong lowered his tail just enough for the ball to fly past him and bounce off the tree. The child stared for a moment before a triumphant grin spread across his face.

"Oh, woe is me!" Wukong exclaimed, gasping and pressing a hand to his chest. "I have been beaten by the mighty warrior! I thought I stood a chance, alas, these old bones have grown weak!"

He twirled his hand and gave a deep bow. "You have won this game fair and square, Thao. Let it not be said I am not a monkey of my word."

Straightening himself, he smiled at Thao's pumping fists, even as he waited eagerly. "You wished to know if I was a hero?" To his rapid nodding, he responded. "My travels have taken me far and wide across many lands and oceans. I have slain hundreds of yaoguai and evildoers and saved both peasants and princes. I have been called a hero, but I am much more than that!"

He raised his arm and inhaled, with the child watching in rapt fascination. "I am -"

"MEI!"

Wukong and Thao immediately turned in the shout's direction. At the edge of the park was a woman held back by two masked men. A third man stood next to them with his arms on his hips while a fourth man was holding the arm of a girl and dragging her to a large black car.

"That's my sister!" Thao cried out, his voice growing distressed. He looked around frantically before he returned to Wukong. "You've gotta save her!"

Wukong walked over and gently gripped the boy's shoulder. "Do not worry Thao, I was just about to do that. Stay back and I promise your sister will be fine."

With those words, he dashed across the park and leapt into the air. Twirling mid-jump, he brought his foot down on the third man's head and landed on his body. At once everyone turned to him. The thug under him groaned and Wukong kicked his back, silencing him.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Wukong said, his scratchy voice bright and jovial. "I would ask how are you doing on this fine day, but seeing as how you are so desperate for companionship you resort to grabbing women off the streets, I'd say you are sorely depressed."

The thugs tensed, their uncertainty plain even through their demon masks. The mother stared at him in shock and desperation, streaks running down her eyes.

"I, for one, would never shame a man for desiring company," he continued and gestured to the captive family, "so why don't you let these fair ladies go and I'll gladly help you court the women of your dreams."

The thug holding the little girl broke the group's silence.

"You think you scare us, cape?" he said, his grip on the girl tightening and causing her to whimper. "You touch us, you're dead meat. This bitch here," he gestured to the mother with his head, "didn't pay up, so her daughter's gonna serve the ABB. The dragon demands his tribute, and no one is exempted."

The mother let out a choked sob and Wukong hummed. "The dragon? Oh, do tell. It's been a while since I've seen the great long of the east."

One of the thugs drew a sharp breath. "He knows Lung?" one of them whispered. "Shit, maybe-"

"Shut up!" the apparent leader yelled before turning to Wukong. "Here's my offer. You walk away and Lung won't hang your burned corpse in the middle of these streets."

"Tempting, I do enjoy my fur in one piece," the Monkey King drawled and stroked his furry chin. "But seeing as how I made a promise to my little playmate," he lowered his hand and his smile morphed into a grin, baring his fangs for all to see.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

In a burst of speed, Wukong appeared next to the mother and the two thugs. Reaching out, he gripped the arms holding the woman and wrenched them away, eliciting from them screams of pain. He pulled them back, letting the mother stumble free. In two swift motions, he let them go and grabbed their heads. Not even looking down, he banged them together, cracking their masks.

"Hmm, did I hear a hollow note?" he asked as he dropped the now-unconscious thugs. "Must explain their lack of tact."

"Mei!"

The mother's pained voice rang out again and he saw the last thug pressing at the girl's throat. The mother raised her hands and spoke to her daughter in a calm yet shaky voice. "It's okay sweetie, Mommy's here -"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!" yelled the leader and pressed his knife closer. He turned to Wukong and snarled. "Take one more step and I'll cut open her throat!"

Mei whimpered and her eyes brimmed with tears ready to be released. The mother cried out her daughter's name again and the thug slowly took a step back, into the open car. As for Wukong?

"Your self-esteem is worse than I thought. A man whose only strength is threatening little girls would certainly not be husband material."

The thug froze and Wukong was sure that his brow twitched. Wukong kept grinning and slowly stepped forward.

"Come now, do you not wish to prove my words wrong? To show that your chosen dharma will bring you glory?" His voice lowered an octave, resembling a growl. The thug tensed and the blade pressed deeper, on the verge of cutting the girl's fair skin. "Or have you realized that it is hollow and false…as the space inside your skull."

The Monkey King spun around and his tail whacked the knife away. The thug cursed and loosened his guard, prompting Wukong to spin again and this time, his tail wrapped around the girl's waist and pulled her away, sending her into her mother's arms. The thug sharply turned to him and reached into his jacket, but Wukong pulled out his staff from his ear and threw it at the thug. The hair-sized weapon expanded into its usual height and struck the thug head-on, sending him tumbling into the car. The machine then rumbled and Wukong spotted a face in the window. Not wasting any time, he dashed to the curb, picked up his staff, and made it shoot through the car's inside and out its door, ripping a hole. Gripping the staff with two hands, he lifted it and with it, the vehicle and its two passengers, right before he slammed them back down to the earth. The street cracked beneath the force of the blow and metal flew out of the car to the side. Not stopping for a moment, Wukong retracted his staff and walked to the broken vehicle. He ripped open the front door and tossed the driver out, sending him tumbling.

He then went to the big door and picked up the leader - who was thoroughly battered and bruised - by the hem of his jacket.

"Too bad," he mock-lamented. "Had you accepted my offer, your karma might have turned."

He turned to look at the streets, where people began walking out of the nearby buildings, looking stupefied and mortified in equal measure. Whispers and mutterings began to fill the air as more people took out their phones and held them high. As he looked, he spotted a metal cylinder with an open top a few steps away. Upon reading the words on its side, he perked up and hummed.

"You need time to reflect on your actions, and I know just where to put you," he said to the leader, who was unable to respond with anything more than slurring. He walked up to the cylinder, lifted the man high and dunked him headfirst into it.

He took a step back to admire his work and dusted his hands. "Much better! At least these mortals attempt to clean up after themselves."

With that done, he turned to the family, who were now whole and hugging each other for dear life. He approached them as he twirled his staff and they quickly took notice.

"You were so cool!" exclaimed Thao, running up to him and bouncing in place. "You just jumped and BAM! And then you went WHOOSH! And then you did it like in Street Fighter and -"

Wukong laughed heartily and patted the boy on the head. "I am pleased to know you admired my actions. It was the least I could do for providing me with such an entertaining game!"

Thao kept running around him and proclaiming his admiration. Wukong kept smiling, then he turned to the two ladies he had rescued. He approached them with measured steps, startling the two from their embrace. The mother looked at him with teary eyes and he saw her tense, strengthening the hold on her daughter.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much. It was just one payment. They were going to take my little girl away to those -"

"It was no trouble; I could hardly stand back and watch such tragedy happen," he replied, waving his hand in reassurance. He then looked at the little girl and got down on one knee. "You must be Mei. Are you alright?" he asked gently.

Mei nodded and sniffed. Looking closer, she appeared older than Thao, with a green-white shirt and two small pigtails in her hair. He slowly reached for her face and paused when he saw the mother tense. She then nodded, and he carefully rubbed her neck, where the thug's knife was placed.

"She is unharmed, do not worry," he said to the mother. He looked at Mei again and traced her cheek with his knuckle. "You are a strong one, Mei. You did not shed tears before that villain. Take pride in your strength and the love of your family."

She nodded and whispered thanks to him. Thao came from behind him and latched onto his sister in a tight embrace, which she quickly returned just as strongly.

He stepped back and slammed his staff on the ground, drawing the attention of everyone on the street. "Hear me now!" he proclaimed with a mighty voice, looking around him. "Any who lay their hands upon children in this land will suffer the same consequences as these ruffians!" He gestured to the broken car and strewn bodies. "They claim to be led by a dragon, and to this I say: I do not fear him! I have faced his ilk before and will gladly do so again! If he wishes to fight, then he need only ask, and Old Sun will gladly show him his place!"

He returned his gaze to the family, who stared at him with slack jaws and wide eyes filled with tears and hope. "You asked me if I was a hero, Thao? Then ease your fears, for I am Sun Wukong! Yaoguai flee before me and the heavens tremble at my might! As long as I am here, none of you shall face such tragedy again."

Silence reigned and Wukong took in their stares and whispers. A fire burning in his chest, he nodded to himself internally.

'Heaven will surely take notice of my actions in due time. If they wish to reprimand me, then they shall come down here themselves! I need not pander to their whims, not anymore. And when they do, I will demand answers from them as to the state of this land!'

With that mental decision, he smiled at the family and held out his hand. "With all that unpleasantness out of the way, do you know where I could find some nachos?"

Elsewhere, in a kitschy store, a shopkeeper was doing his best impression of a strangled chicken as he slumped on his counter and stared at the headline on his phone.

LIVE : NEW CAPE IN BROCKTON BAY! ABB KIDNAPPING FOILED AND HUMILIATED! PRT EN ROUTE!

Chapter Text

YES, IT IS I!

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Huge thanks to MentalForge, TrajectoryAgreement and QAI521 for beta-reading!

Scarcely had the Jade Emperor finished speaking when the Long-Life Spirit of the Planet Venus came forward from the ranks and prostrated himself. "Highest and Holiest," he said, "within the three regions, all creatures endowed with the nine apertures can, through exercise, become immortals. It is not surprising that this monkey, with a body nurtured by Heaven and Earth, a frame born of the sun and moon, should achieve immortality, seeing that his head points to Heaven and his feet walk on Earth, and that he feeds on the dew and the mist. Now that he has the power to subdue dragons and tame tigers, how is he different from a human being? Your subject therefore makes so bold as to ask Your Majesty to remember the compassionate grace of Creation and issue a decree of pacification. Let him be summoned to the Upper Region and given some kind of official duties. His name will be recorded in the Register and we can control him here. If he is receptive to the Heavenly decree, he will be rewarded and promoted hereafter; but if he is disobedient to your command, we shall arrest him forthwith. Such an action will spare us a military expedition in the first place, and, in the second, permit us to receive into our midst another immortal in an orderly manner."

-Journey to the West, Chapter 3

"…and Miss Militia reports that the last few patrols with the Wards went without incident. She would've given it here but there was a sighting of an assault involving Krieg in the area, so she went to investigate."

The woman nodded as she read the computer. "What about the drug shipment tipoff?"

"Assault helped detain the rest of the gangbangers after fending off Skidmark. The rest we handed off to Brockton PD."

"At least something went right this week," she mumbled. "And this new Parahuman gang, the…" she trailed off, though not from a lack of knowledge.

"Undersiders, ma'am. From what intelligence we've gathered they hit another safehouse. Half the guns are missing and all of the cash."

"Only half the guns? Strange. Not enough time to haul off with everything?"

Colin shook his head. "Still trying to figure that out. I'll send you possible plans of action by tomorrow."

"See that you do. We don't know how long before they hit something bigger." She grabbed the remote on her desk and the plasma screen beside them lit up. "Next on the list: what am I looking at?"

Hidden behind his visor, Colin's eyes flickered to the screen. "A new challenger against the ABB, ma'am."

Emily Piggot, director of the PRT ENE branch, twitched. Though whether it was from his response or his deadpan tone, he couldn't say. "I'm aware of that, Armsmaster. He's made it quite clear in his little announcement," she said and gestured to the screen where the cape was displayed in full HD, standing smugly in the middle of the park with the destroyed van beside him. "What I'm asking is what can you make of this…Sun Wukong."

Armsmaster tapped a few commands into his gauntlet and a photo appeared next to the broadcast. "His first public appearance was actually two days ago. He foiled a robbery on a local grocery store and disabled the ABB gangsters responsible, but we weren't able to get a proper visual. The next morning he prevented an Empire mugging with the same results."

"And I wasn't informed?" she asked in a clipped tone.

"I needed more information before I could present concrete evidence," he said quickly, having planned out his reply the moment he chose to withhold information. "And after yesterday's incident with Glory Girl, we have a better idea of who we're dealing with."

Piggot frowned and Armsmaster stopped himself from doing the same. Thankfully though the fight had happened in broad daylight the collateral damage had mostly been structural - only a few injuries and no deaths. Compared to most cape fights, practically a blessing. Unfortunately, no one had been able to get a clear picture of him during the fight, on account of their superhuman speeds and the height from which they fought.

"So it was him," she said, scrunching her brows. "The monkey description makes sense now. Remind me, why did Glory Girl engage him?"

"She said he provoked her, but I have reason to believe there was fault on her end as well."

The director sighed and steepled her fingers. "I take they're trying to foot the damage bill?"

He replied in the negative and Piggot hummed, a hint of a calculating gleam in her eye. "I'll send a message offering PRT contractor repairs. If they agree, we can help spin the recovery efforts to our side, it'll help with PR." She looked back at him. "The information, if you will?"

Armsmaster entered another command, and the new image made Piggot blink. It was an old Chinese painting of a robe-clad man staring at a dancing monkey, wearing similar robes and holding a red staff.

"In Chinese folklore and mythology, Sun Wukong is a minor deity, famous for his prominent role in the 16th-century novel Journey to the West. He's described as a monkey born from a stone egg and a seeker of immortality. On his travels to find it, he acquired a number of magical powers and a staff similar to the one in the news footage." The feed changed to show the monkey extending his staff so that it pierced the van before he proceeded to whack it and the van on the asphalt like a toy hammer.

"I take it our Sun Wukong is a fan of his?"

"Most likely. His whole appearance, weapon, and mannerisms indicate more than a passing familiarity with the figure. It casts doubts on my earlier theory that he's a Case 53. Now, I'm leaning towards a Striker power, possibly tied to that staff of his."

Piggot drummed her fingers on her knuckles. "Did the PRT troops establish contact with him?"

"...no," he grumbled. "By the time they got there, he was gone. They interviewed local witnesses, including the involved family." A picture of a toy rattle popped up. "The youngest member said that this Wukong turned a leaf into that toy, and another into a brush."

That brought up a whole slew of questions. Transforming objects was not a common power, more so if those two objects hinted at a wide range. Was the change permanent? Did the objects exhibit additional effects? The rattle wasn't taken from the child, it would've caused too much of a scene, but the officer interviewing the family stated it appeared as nothing but an ordinary wooden rattle. The officer asked him if he should return and confiscate it, but Armsmaster declined. The rattle didn't look or act like Tinkertech in the slightest. The brush however was dropped by the child at the park, and that was taken to his lab for testing.

Nothing. It was nothing more than an ordinary brush.

"Was he sighted since the incident? It's only been a few hours."

Armsmaster nodded. "He was spotted in a nearby convenience store." The next image showed a social media feed of the monkey-man scarfing down a party-size bag of Doritos. Under it was typed '#MONKE FOOD ON THE HOUSE!'

She stared at the photo, a single brow raised. "I can see he's making an impression on the district already. What do you make of him, personality-wise?"

Colin rubbed his bearded chin and hummed. "It's too early for me to make a definitive impression, but from what we've seen, he doesn't seem the type to de-escalate a situation. The footage showed he's nimble enough to avoid collateral damage but doesn't mind causing it. Otherwise…I'm willing to reserve judgement until I see more."

"If we can integrate him into the Protectorate, we might be able to shift some of the Asian community away from the ABB's grasp," said Piggot thoughtfully.

"It has potential," he hummed. The lack of a figure to relate to the various Asian communities had always been a point of contention. It made it far more likely for elements of the community to flock to the umbrella of Lung to shield them from the Empire. Never mind that they were just trading one monster for another. "From my research, Sun Wukong is still worshipped as a deity in some of the Asian communities. We could use that unless they start decrying him for blasphemy."

She scoffed. "Hardly the first time. What I'm worried about is his little declaration to the ABB, and more directly -"

"Lung," Armsmaster finished. The mood grew somber at the thought of the monstrous leader of the ABB and how he would take that declaration. "He's not gonna take this lying down. An insult to him and his men, in broad daylight? It's a question of when, but when he does, we need to prepare."

The director nodded and rose from her chair. "We take preemptive measures. I want you, Velocity, and Miss Militia to focus your patrols around that area for the time being. You're allowed to take a Ward each, but only to assist with evacuation, rescue and fighting low-level gangsters." She walked away from her desk and headed toward the elevator and he followed. Once they arrived and entered it, she pressed a button and down they went. "Squads are to accompany you and whenever you're not in the area, they'll do circuits. I'll forward the Brockton PD the details so they won't get pissy."

"Understood." The two walked through a hallway and into a small kitchenette. Slipping a paper cup under the machine, Piggot began to pour a cup of coffee. "Anything else?"

Piggot looked at a nearby TV screen, where the news footage was still being played. "Has the E88 shown any signs of movement after the attack on their men?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, nor any signs of mobilization. I won't be surprised if Hookwolf or Stormtiger try and take a crack at him."

She sighed despondently. "Then make sure all available heroes keep an eye out and are ready to deploy the moment they get the call." She turned to Armsmaster fully and narrowed her eyes. "Lung is bad enough, but we cannot let this escalate into a full-on cape brawl. Understood?"

He sharply nodded, fully aware of the gravity of the possible scenario. Needless to say, it had to be averted no matter what. "I'll begin drafting alternate routes and see if I can tinker something. In the meantime, what if one of us encounters Wukong?"

She tilted her head, a low hum escaping her throat. "If you or anyone else in the area encounters this Sun Wukong, you have my permission to invite him here. If not to join the Protectorate, at least for power testing."

Armsaster kept watching the screen as the monkey whacked the van and the gangsters inside it. "If he refuses?"

"Ask again, and make sure he understands what kind of risk he's taking. A fight involving Lung could demolish an entire neighborhood before he gets bored or we manage to force him back. If he still says no, then do not engage," she stressed. "Like you said, we don't have enough of a handle on what he can do."

"And when Lung answers?"

She clenched her chubby fingers around the cup. "Get there ASAP and evacuate everyone in the area. It's not the first time he's gone on a rampage, let's hope we do better than last time," she chuckled mirthfully. "Like that's a compliment."

Colin frowned, in full agreement with her words. "I'll prepare the necessary contingencies and alert the Wards." He turned around and left Piggot with her coffee.

Piggot looked daggers at the screen, where more cellphone footage of the monkey laughing and pointing at a slushie machine showed. The poor shopkeeper looked one moment from ducking under the counter, and she didn't blame him. She sighed and sipped her coffee.

'Here's to hoping that this is dealt with quickly. I've got another meeting with Costa-Brown and I know how it'll go…damn it.'

The drumming of fingers echoed throughout the room. The red lights cast eerie shadows across the wall and posters. The men of the Azn Bad Boys before him stood rigidly, not moving even a muscle. While discipline might have played a part in their stillness, the tenseness of their frames and their held breaths all but hollered the true reason.

"You all know why you are here."

From his throne, Lung surveyed his troops behind his iron mask. Their fear was so strong he could almost see it as steam pouring out of them. Their heads were bowed and were determined to stay there, in the vain hope they would be spared his wrath.

How deluded they had become.

"My businesses run oiled, the heroes and Nazis dare not cross into my territory. The people know their place and the consequences of thinking otherwise."

His voice, low and rumbling like the mountains, rang through every nerve of their bodies.

"Do you know why?" he asked. No one answered, as expected. "It is because of me. My strength."

He rose from his chair and clasped his hands behind his back. "In this city, none are equal to me. The heroes fear me. The Nazi filth fears me. Brockton Bay fears me. Without me, you are nothing. I give you protection, offer you the opportunity to surpass your insignificant lives under my strength, wealth, and pleasure to sate your desires."

Not that he cared what they did. As long as they kept the money and whores flowing in, he wouldn't give a rat's ass what happened to them. He took a step forward and the floor seemed to quake. "All I ask of you is your loyalty."

A growl emanated from the mask. "How is it then, that within my turf," he took a deep breath. "I. AM. MOCKED!?"

He saw them flinch. The silence had almost shattered by their pitiful whimpers.

"For seven days, my name, my strength, has been utterly mocked, by an upstart newbie, and you do nothing."

Oh, he had seen the incident, on the news and from one of his men. He had no problem with the acquisitions his men made, nor their methods. As long as he had his due and they obeyed him, he cared not for his underlings. But to do it so sloppily, in broad daylight - had the cops not taken them away he would've roasted them on the spot. To make matters worse, they attracted this cape.

"Sun Wukong, he calls himself." The name was far from unknown to anyone in the room. "A fucker who thinks it's a good idea to taunt me every chance he gets." Lung slowly paced back and forth across the room. "He trashes my men and throws them into garbage bins like they were nothing. Within these past days, he swings around like he rules this district, and makes my enemies think I'm no longer in charge."

When he had first seen the news footage, he nearly snapped and burned down his hideout. That cocky Hero - Assault - from the Protectorate was one thing, there were consequences involved, and even during the odd times they fought, he rarely joked. This incident was beyond that.

"And what have you done? Nothing. The moment this newbie shows up, you run like fucking cowards. And you know what I did to the last pussy who ran." Lung's hands clenched and smoke drifted from within them. The burnt corpse was brought before them yesterday and chopped to bits. He made sure every one of his men got a good look at him. "He is no different from the Wards or the Protectorate. I don't expect you to win - I'd be surprised if any of you scratches another parahuman - but I expect you to fight. Instead, I get broken weaklings in hospitals and jails."

For he did receive news about members of his gang being sent to the ER by this monkey's hands. He had almost gutted that messenger when he told him of the failed collection, but his interest in the new cape dwarfed any rage over some grocery store. Now he knew, and that rage had returned tenfold. His hands shimmered and he felt the room draw in a collective breath. A second later, the smoke vanished and his skin became flesh once more.

"No more."

He stopped and stared at the men, and he knew they were taken aback by the sudden softness of his tone.

"Today, this ends. He named himself after the Immortal Monkey King, who trounced the very Heavens. I will go, and you'll see as I show him and this city how fake he is when I melt his furry flesh into sludge."

With one final growl, Lung raised his head and held a fist high.

"You cross the dragon, and you will pay. A simple rule. It's time he learns this."

Lung walked and his men parted before him. Before he stepped out the door, he stopped and addressed the man in the corner of the room.

"Lee. You've spotted new Nazi holdouts on the border of our turf. Destroy them, and make it loud. It will draw the heroes in and keep them distracted until I kill this monkey man."

Oni Lee stepped from the shadows, his demonic mask revealed for all to see. "Understood," he curtly replied.

Lung nodded and took off his jacket, leaving it on the floor. He walked outside, the footsteps of his men not far behind him. He stared at the street as he inhaled deeply and let the first winds of winter blow against his skin. The cold air was nothing before the blazing heat within his body. Determined, he walked down the street, watching as the minnows saw his advance and scampered back to their holes. Further and further he marched into the Asian district, and as he walked he took in the terror as he felt the stares of his men. Oni Lee should've started his attack by now.

"It would seem," he said, anger further lacing his voice. "We need to bait this monkey fucker out. If that's how he wants to play, then fine."

He drew power from within him and flames erupted from his hands. He lobbed a fireball at a store and it exploded, silencing anyone inside.

"Come out, Sun Wukong! Answer your insults to me with your life, or these people will pay!"

No voice responded and Lung gnashed his teeth. Did this wannabe hero not think him worthy!? His rational side argued that he could just be away in another part of the city. That was fine.

The people here need to learn their place anyway.

He raised a finger to his men and they went into the houses. A few minutes later, they came out with terrified civilians on the verge of crying. "Line them up."

The gangbangers did so and he slowly walked along them. "Sun Wukong was seen walking this street yesterday. Where is he?"

The civilians said nothing, trembling before him. He went to the first one, an elderly woman, and asked again. "Where is he?"

She shook her head. "I-I d-don't know," she blubbered. He stared at her long and hard, looking for signs of deceit before moving on.

"Where is Sun Wukong!?"

Every time he asked, they answered negatively. His anger swelled with each response. He knew that the monkey made himself comfortable in the district and was spotted by many people, but there was no way that nobody saw where he went! When he reached the last two, a frail old man and what was presumably his son, he felt the fire roar within his chest.

"Where. is. Sun. Wukong?"

The two shook their heads, but Lung saw the older man flinch differently than his son. He leaned closer to the old man and spoke, his words like an awakened volcano.

"Do not lie to me, old man. I see through your lies. You saw him, didn't you? Where is he?"

The old man responded the same way, even as his son held him and looked back and forth between Lung and the father. His eyes smoking red, Lung raised his arm, and a fireball the size of a man burst from it. The two civilians turned pale and huddled together, in some vain hope it would save them.

Pitiful. To not even face their death with dignity…they will burn in agony.

The leader of the ABB drew his arm back to throw the great inferno. Had it landed, much of the street would've been taken out. It would have, if not for the clawed hand holding his arm in place.

Lung sharply turned to his left and there he was, the one who had ridiculed him and his men and undermined his little kingdom, standing there with a cocky smirk full of fangs and holding him in place. In his free arm, he held a bag of dried banana snacks. He tried to pull his arm away, but to his surprise, the monkey didn't even budge. Twice more he pulled and the monkey jerked the arm back. With another snarl, he tried to pull with all his body, but then he felt himself bend over as he was suddenly forced back and the fireball dissipated. His head shot up to see the monkey with an outstretched leg.

"Now that's just rude," said the monkey-man. His scratchy voice was already getting on his nerves. "I was tasting this delightful snack on yonder rooftop when I heard someone rudely calling for me and throwing sparks around like a child who lost his toy. Don't you know better than to disturb someone when they're eating?"

He nibbled on another dried fruit slice as Lung's eyes twitched under his mask, idly noting the civilians running away. Glancing at his arm, he saw that the skin was replaced by shimmering metal scales. For a moment he grew intrigued, thoughts of the normals quickly forgotten. Was he so strong for his power to react so quickly?

"So you are Sun Wukong," said Lung in a gravelly tone as he flexed his fingers. "I am glad you accepted my invitation. I wished to discuss your payment for the dishonor you have dealt upon me."

Wukong tilted his head and fished for another slice. "I stated no dishonor, only truth. Men who are so desperate for validation they prey on little children are barely worth their names." He kept speaking as he ate. "You claim to be the shénlóng dàrén who leads them?"

Lung didn't react to the Mandarin, though it seemed to fit the monkey. He should've gone in for the kill right away, but the way the monkey spoke gave him pause. It reminded him of one of those old Chinese dramas his men sometimes watched. "Yeah, I am." He straightened his posture and bared his tattoos in full glory for his opponent to see. "And you've made an enemy of the dragon, Sun Wukong. I rule my kingdom, and not even the heroes mess with me. You won against the blonde bitch, so you think you're a big shot. My men promised you I would hang your burned corpse for all to see, and I will honor that promise." His arms blazed with fire. "But I offer you one chance; beg for mercy and I will make your death swift."

A hush fell over the street. Lung's men stared in silence and the odd civilian looked from a stray window. Let them watch, all the better for his satisfaction. The monkey just stood there, hand frozen in his bag.

Lung opened his mouth to ask when he saw Wukong's form tremble. Ah, so he had realized how futile it was to face him. He would have to punish his men later, for being humiliated by such a weak-willed cape. Not that he would keep his promise -

Then Wukong laughed. A great, raspy laugh that shocked Lung and those behind him.

"You!? You are the shénlóng dàrén!?" he dropped his snack and rolled on the floor with laughter, clutching his robe-covered belly. "All the blustering your pitiful lackeys blew was this!? A half-naked man with a painted chest and some parlor tricks!? Oh, joy! Thank you, for I had not heard such a good joke in ages!"

Wukong kept cackling and Lung felt the flames wrap around his legs and burn through his jeans. Never before…never had he been given this level of insult since he was reborn. All feared him and his power. And this monkey thought he was a joke!?

He bellowed fire toward the monkey and it swept over him in a tidal wave of crimson. The flames crashed against the building and burned there before parting to reveal the charred -

Nothing!?

Lung immediately tensed and looked around. He hadn't thought it was going to be easy, so where was the -

His head rang. The ground disappeared from under him. A sharp wind blew against his face.

He kissed asphalt as he rolled down the street before righting himself up and moving to stand, only to freeze as the gold-capped end of a staff, engraved with clouds and the very creature he bore a likeness to, poked his masked chin. Slowly looking up, he beheld Sun Wukong standing right in front of him, still sporting that toothy grin, but this time his eyes glimmered with an emotion Lung had seen many times in the mirror, and one he never dreamed of seeing in a human (or cape) foe:

Predatory.

"A lóng you claim to be, but all I see is a carp who floats in the lake and stares at the gate, thinking he has leapt up the fall," he said. "I offered the challenge, so I gave you the first strike. How disappointing."

Lung tried to move but Wukong jabbed him in the chin. He felt the scales slowly grow there and around his body. His muscled arms cracked the road and he charged forward, intending to tear the monkey in two. Yet again though, Wukong plunged the staff on his head and slammed him into the asphalt. Amidst the pain, he felt claws protrude from his fingers.

"Oh, is the màopáihuò hurt?" Wukong asked mockingly. "Perhaps he would like a treatment to soothe his ego? Here's a sample!"

In the blink of an eye, the staff stuck Lung under the chin and sent him rolling backward. He gripped the ground and shook his head, even as he felt scales grow over most of his body. This was too fast. Not even against the Heroes or the Empire did they grow this fast! He shook off the dizziness and sent a piercing, wrathful glare at the monkey, whose grin just grew wider. The insult from earlier had fully kicked in, and his vision flooded red. Lung roared and his whole body was coated in flames, leaving only the barest traces of his jeans on him.

But the monkey showed no fear.

"I must say, I have seen few lóng who command fire more than water. Do not think that impresses me, it just proves how far you are from your ideal painting, little carp." He twirled his staff and sauntered closer. He then stopped and pointed it at the ABB leader, staring him right in the eyes. "But if you wish to truly climb the waterfall…"

Wukong stomped on the ground and it cracked from the impact. Had anyone else been watching, it would've seemed as though an old scroll had come to life.

"Let's see if you are even worthy to attempt the first leap!"

Chapter Text

YES, IT IS I! HAPPY HANNUKAH! (and merry Christmas too, I suppose)

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Huge thanks to TrajectoryAgreement, QAI521, Ridtom, and storybookknight for helping me here!

"Dear Monkey King! He jumped to the bridgehead and employed the magic of water restriction. Making the magic sign with his fingers, he leaped into the waves, which parted for him, and he followed the waterway straight to the bottom of the Eastern Ocean. As he was walking, he suddenly ran into a yakṣa on patrol, who stopped him with the question, "What divine sage is this who comes pushing through the water? Speak plainly so that I can announce your arrival." Wukong said, "I am the Heaven-born sage Sun Wukong of the Flower Fruit Mountain, a near neighbor of your old Dragon King. How is it that you don't recognize me?" When the yakṣa heard this, he hurried back to the Water Crystal Palace to report. "Great King," he said, "there is outside a Heaven-born sage of the Flower-Fruit Mountain named Sun Wukong. He claims that he is a near neighbor of yours, and he is about to arrive at the palace." Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the Eastern Ocean, arose immediately; accompanied by dragon sons and grandsons, shrimp soldiers and crab generals, he came out for the reception. "High Immortal," he said, "please come in!" They went into the palace for proper introduction, and after offering Wukong the honored seat and tea, the king asked, "When did the high immortal become accomplished in the Way, and what kind of divine magic did he receive?" Wukong said, "Since the time of my birth, I have left the family to practice self-cultivation. I have now acquired a birthless and deathless body. Recently I have been teaching my children how to protect our mountain cave, but unfortunately I am without an appropriate weapon. I have heard that my noble neighbor, who has long enjoyed living in this green-jade palace and its shell portals, must have many divine weapons to spare. I came specifically to ask for one of them."

-Journey to the West, chapter 3

The staff shot forward and struck the fake lóng's head.

His head reeled and Wukong spun around until his extended staff slammed right into the lóng's chest. With the blow, he took flight down the street. In the blink of his eye, Wukong was under him and his leg struck his skull.

The lóng's mask stood strong against his Cloud-Treading Greaves, but Wukong got his satisfaction as his foe broke through a lamppost. Regrettably, the lóng quickly regained his bearings, even as the lamppost fell on his head and the glass bulb shattered. The shards of glass raining on his head only served to stoke his fire, literally, which he proved by throwing twin fireballs in Wukong's direction. The Monkey King simply somersaulted above them and landed on the tips of his toes.

He opened his mouth for a taunt but quickly vaulted back when the lóng charged him with burning fists. He was bobbing and weaving through the flurry of searing punches when the fake lóng let loose with a rising kick. Wukong leaned to the side as the flaming limb flew past his face, his nose wrinkling.

Did this man not wash himself?

Before his opponent could return to a neutral stance, Wukong shrunk the staff to fit in his palm and body-slammed the lóng in the abdomen. He'd barely gotten more than a wheeze out when he punched him three more times.

A sharp crack rang through the air with the last blow, asphalt screeching beneath the lóng's heels as he struggled to remain upright

The Monkey King's head tilted in curiosity, watching silver scales peel through the flesh of his foe. It didn't escape his notice that they formed when he first struck him, and they seemed to slowly replace the skin. It was as though a brush had painted them on with a single stroke, and they had come to life through the fleshy canvas.

'A useful technique, to adapt to an opponent's attacks through direct contact. Bladed weapons would be useless unless one could cleave through the body with a single stroke. Hm, I bet I could do that, given the right blade.'

He unshrunk his staff, twirling it as he beckoned the fake lóng with a charming smile and a wagging finger.

'But if the mountain stands strong, why not crack it open?'

A guttural sound rumbled from the lóng's throat, his eyes flashing dangerously.

The sun descended, and crimson flames roared.

The incoming flame would've incinerated rock and steel alike, much less any unfortunate mortal. But even as he felt the heat pierce past his fur, the Monkey King only smirked. He spun his staff with the force of a storm, and a loud whistling pierced the roaring inferno. The fire parted like water before a rock, passing by his sides without even a lick of flame touching his fur. On and on it raged, yet Wukong held firm. Finally, the flame ebbed and the air shimmered before the false lóng, unable to hide his surprise. Ignoring his feeble protests, Wukong looked around and saw the attack's vestiges had charred the road beneath him and the pavement beside him.

'These are potent flames. I recall very few lóng who showed such command over the element diametrically opposed to their nature. Fire is a tricky element to learn for sorcerers and spirits. One mistake and the consequences to both you and your surroundings are dire. I'll give credit, fate has blessed this one with natural control. Of course, that brat's mastery eclipsed anything a mortal could reach, especially this màopáihuò.' He wrinkled his nose as the scent of char and ash permeated the breeze. 'Fire always leaves such a mess. If I'm not careful, this Old Sun's robes will be a nightmare to clean!'

He glanced at the lóng, whose eyes were glowing with both fire and utter rage.

'After the one-thousand, three-hundred and fourteenth-time, the novelty starts to wear thin.'

He raised his free hand and fanned himself, gasping loudly while leaning on his staff. "My word, you didn't have to be so rough! The winter air is chilly, 'tis true, but you nearly singed my delicate fur! I understand maintaining a huŏkàng is meticulous work, but show some concern for your customers!"

The lóng roared savagely and charged him with arms aflame. 'Ah, now that never gets old.'

They clashed again, the sound of ringing steel reverberating throughout the street. His foe was relentless, pushing forward like an avalanche. Even when Wukong struck him, whether it was his staff or his limbs, the lóng refused to falter and his scales grew. Flames had coated his limbs perpetually and the street was awash in red, as though a volcano had begun erupting beneath their feet. The lóng's fires struck like scorpions, striking in a flash to smear their burning sting upon his skin. An impressive tactic that would have felled any normal warrior.

Alas for the lóng, Sun Wukong was never a normal warrior.

'He's no master of the fist, but a disciple of the wild. Raw, unbridled aggression with some hint of form. Combined with his iron scales and flames, it is little surprise how he maintained his rule.' He caught a punch midair and pushed it to the side, letting the stream miss him by several hairs' breadth. He wrinkled his nose again at the scent of smoke but pressed on. Digging into the limb with his claws, he unsurprisingly met resistance. 'These scales grow harder as we fight, and that last blow would have punched through a mortal clean.'

As Wukong kept parrying the lóng's blows, he didn't miss the red light shining from between the scales' cracks.

'Ooh, is he trying a new trick?'

Before he could politely ask the lóng, a man came rushing out of his home in abject terror. Wukong quickly darted to where he had come from and saw a shop awning falling apart and devoured by a small wildfire. A ponderous look came over Wukong as he distracted the lóng, kneeing him under his chin where flesh was still spotted.

'Ah, I suppose it would be inconsiderate for these folks' livelihoods if their homes were destroyed because of this Old Sun's carelessness. I doubt the màopáihuò cares…so let's change that, shall we?'

He ducked under a haymaker and immediately shot upwards, grabbing the lóng's neck. As his opponent let out a surprised gurgle due to the sheer force behind the grip, Wukong planted his staff on the ground, and with a mental nudge, it extended and shot upwards, carrying them high above the rooftops. Taking a moment to survey the landscape, Wukong looked around and spotted strange white bursts in the distance, next to flashes of light ranging across several colors of the autumn sky. The wind carried faint shouting to his ears, a dim cacophony of voices that were interlaced with commands and swears.

Before he could ponder this commotion, however, he cocked his head to let a fireball shoot past him. He quickly turned to the lóng and gave him the stare he gave to children who disturbed his after-meal nap.

"Now now," he chided. "I was hoping a change of scenery would improve your attitude. Let's see if that holds, shall we?"

The lóng violently shook in his grasp and started to curse, but in a split second, Wukong threw him in the air and shrunk his staff. He grabbed it like a club before jumping midair and swinging the staff at his opponent. He saw the lóng twist to face him and brace for the impact…then the staff expanded to the size and width of a tree trunk.

The smile on Wukong's face exploded into a full grin as the weapon collided with the scaly body of the lóng and sent him flying east. The monkey quickly shrunk his staff and transformed into a swallow, taking flight and following the flaming trail in the sky.

'Hm, was it too much?' he thought, then shook his head. 'No, he seems like a tough one. It's not as though I threw him through a mountain.'

He kept flying until he came to a shoreline filled with boats, but not the carved wooden barges and k'un-lun po he had seen traversing China's great rivers and oceans. No, like almost everything in this city, they were forged of metal. Decaying giants of steel floated along the coast, looking like a miserable mockery of the city's glass spires. The waters were murky and muddy from their corroded blood, and the salty scent of the sea carried rust under its gentle flow. The coast bordering it was just as derelict, with metal houses, metal boxes and scrap-filled lots scattered around. The winter clouds, obscuring the sun, cast the area in a greyish veil, seemingly robbing it of all but a scant sample of colors. It painted a tragic tale, a wordless lament of what no doubt had been a point of pride to this city.

Which was why it was the perfect choice for Wukong. He had flown by this desolate shipyard several times over the past few days and had marveled at the bizarre scene, which was how he also knew that no mortal came here. A crude but suitable arena, at least for this purpose.

'Had the Tang Emperor discovered that ships could be forged like this, no army on the seas could challenge him, save the Dragon Kings below the waves,' Wukong pondered as he gazed at the sight. 'Not just the ships, but even one of the cars I've seen speeding down the roads would be crowned an imperial chariot. Though I admit, I would like to try riding that red one. So much speed in a machine!' The trails of smoke and dust drew his attention and he flew toward a lot filled with empty crates and scrap. Naturally, they were metal. 'What is this obsession with metal these mortals have? It's as though they seek to isolate themselves from nature instead of harmonizing with it.'

He transformed back and landed in the lot in front of the smoking pit. From within the burning haze, shadows and mass shifted and squirmed.

"Alas, I must forgo indulgence for a while…" he mumbled. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and opened them again - and the world was awash in gold.

And just like with Glory Girl, a colossal apparition hovered before him. The fractured glass shards that enveloped its form flickered in and out of existence, appearing both massive and tiny in and shimmering all colors of the rainbow. The stars shone through the daylit sky and the space around it cracked. At its center, the spirit's form kept shifting with the viscosity of molten metal, yet it flowed with the smoothness of a river. No shape seemed to take permanent hold, but here and there he spotted serpentine features, cycling between limbs and appendages both bestial and demonic.

'This one is much more active compared to the other ones. Glory Girl's was a twisted bodhisattva, but this is more akin to a statue whose artist has yet to decide on a consistent form, with some features of a lóng. Is it controlling the mortal, or are the mortal's delusions influencing its shape?'

As the lóng's form became clearer through the crater, Wukong focused on the tendrils feeding into his skull. They pulsated with rapid light, traveling back and forth between the mortal and the apparition at speeds he hadn't seen before. 'If what I observed these past days is true, strong emotion fuels this connection, and what better example than rage?'

Out of the smoke stepped his foe, utterly clad in gleaming scales from head to toe. They had grown into spikes, bristling with heat, and had torn through whatever scraps of cloth he wore, leaving them hanging by threads. Red light and haze were shining through each crevice, and his mask had seemingly fused with his face - or had his face morphed into the mask's likeness? He stepped forward and the earth cracked beneath his clawed feet, his looming stature towering above Wukong.

'So, the change extends beyond merely his skin. A rather slow transformation, all things considered. Intentional or a result of inexperience?'

He tilted his head at the false lóng, who regarded him with a hatred as strong as the flames enveloping him.

"Feeling better now?" Wukong called out, his raspy voice the picture of innocence. "Those shrimp soldiers and crab generals of yours won't see this Old Sun knock those shiny scales out of your body. A brute you may be, but every opponent deserves a smidgen of dignity before their humiliation."

The sound emanating from the màopáihuò would have made armies tremble. Past the line of human rage, Wukong had heard yaoguai with equally fierce bellows.

"I will take my time with your corpse, monkey," he spat. "No one beats me. I am Lung. I rule here. And you will beg for death."

Crescent waves burst forth; fire so potent it rent the earth asunder. But even they couldn't break the Ruyi Jingu Bang. Bursting forth, the lóng spun and swiped, and thus began their dance once more. The monkey was a fluttering leaf, and the lóng a raging river. Punches, kicks and blows were once more dodged and blocked. Every fence and obstacle Wukong leaped over, his opponent ran through or blasted. The monkey jumped atop one of the giant metal boxes and waved.

"Is all that haze clouding your eyes? Show me something original!"

The false lóng roared and grabbed hunks of metal from the ground. Engulfing them in flame, he threw them with cracks of thunder. Idly watching them punch through the box, Wukong somersaulted high as the silver mass of scales collided below him. He cocked back the fist, and just as the lóng looked up, he shot down and felt steel give, and twin crashes rang out through the air.

Hopping away from the crate, the Monkey King idly checked his fingers. 'Hmm, those scales are indeed tough. I think one of my nails might be chipped, and after I found this lovely paper to clean them with. Reminds me of cheap-grade celestial steel. Do they replace his skin or merely coat it?'

He looked up as the side of the crate tore open and the flaming visage of the lóng stepped through. Sporting a taller physique and a small tail, he looked around until his eyes landed on Wukong, whereupon his flames climbed and melted the steel.

"You think I'm a joke!?"

Searing bolts flew and burning metal was swatted.

"You think I'm weak!?"

A smaller box, bigger than a car, was hurled. With a quick swallow transformation, Wukong flew around and turned back, watching it explode and rupture the nearby huts.

"I fought Leviathan! I built my turf here and killed everyone who stopped me! I sent heroes back in boxes!"

More waves came, riding a carpet of crimson. The staff rose high and Wukong braced, right as the lóng met him head-on. Twin battering rams struck the monkey and sent him rolling. With a grunt of mild annoyance, his staff spun as a red-hot stream flooded him once more. Black smoke soon filled his vision, and a light cough escaped his lips. The lóng rampaged with the ferocity of a bull, the burning hunks of rock in his hands seeking their furry target, not satisfied with cratering the ground and reducing walls to liquid.

"THESE ARE MY SUBJECTS! MY WOMEN! MY MONEY! AND I WON'T LET SOME FUCKING MONKEY PISS ON EVERYTHING I'VE-ack!"

A tail around his burning neck cut him short, and he felt a breeze under his skin as he was spun and struck, sending him through hut after hut…right into the very crater he first formed.

"A paper lantern that floats high is nothing but hot air," Wukong remarked, strolling into the lot as the false lóng slowly rose, his scales rippling across his skin and his fire dancing above it. "You spout names and deeds as if they were golden ink upon the scroll of your life, but the scroll is charred and worn, meant to crumble at the slightest gust of wind. Has that fire burnt up everything of value inside, leaving only hate and steel? As for what you believe are my opinions…"

He smiled and tilted his head, baring his fangs impishly. "Why would this Old Sun make such lies to what is clearly an obvious truth?"

A torturous creaking emanated from the lóng's fists. More flames gathered around his arms from seemingly nothing, heating the air until the glow seemed to warp his visage. The apparition's tendril flashed with even greater frequency as the glass shards enveloping it seemingly vibrated in place.

He raised his arms up and with a volcanic howl, slammed them on the ground. A wave of pure crimson exploded around him and violently rushed toward Wukong. The inferno spared nothing consuming both metal and stone in its newfound hunger.

As for Wukong? He merely took a step back, and let his spirit go.

What was once flesh, cloth and fur was now an ethereal mist. Even the Ruyi Jingu Bang he held had turned wispy and cloudlike. The raging flames passed by him harmlessly, not even tickling him.

The wave fizzled out, and Wukong stepped back. The lot was completely scorched, and the bits and pieces of metal scattered around were reduced to molten slag or even ash. The superheated air had cloaked everything outside the lot in a wavy mirage. The lóng snorted fire from his mouth and roared again, charging to Wukong's spot and rapidly punching the wispy monkey.

'How fortunate that's not really me,' Wukong smirked as he observed his opponent attacking his facsimile. The copy had leaned on its staff and kept smirking at the lóng as he rained blow after flaming blow, only for each one to pass through without a hint of harm. Wukong himself was no longer in the same spot and circled the lóng, unseen and unheard. 'He can rage as he pleases, but it will prove futile. A cloud is like the arrogant scholar: he thinks himself full of substance when he is full of nothing but air.'

As the false lóng, blinded by fury, kept attacking, Wukong paced around him and looked at the apparition hovering above him. Its form had begun taking a more consistent shape, with giant claws and a tail that blended with the shattered sky above. One instant it seemed to coil above the mortal, and another instant its head - or what passed for it - loomed over the very city, crowned with a halo of cosmic flame and the rest of its body swallowed by the heavens. The glass shards imitated rattling scales, further distorting it. The tendrils now resembled rushing waterfalls of kaleidoscopic light, flowing in and out of the mortal's skull.

Wukong clicked his tongue as the apparition kept morphing and shattering, unable or unwilling to stay in permanent form. Both fascination and confusion warred within him, and he took a silent yet calming breath before observing the source of much of his ruminations since he arrived in Brockton Bay.

'Those tendrils are intriguing; it almost looks like it's…drinking from the màopáihuò. Hmm, so combat fuels these apparitions as much as strong emotion does, or perhaps the emotions created from combat? The ones I observed almost confirm the former, but this is the first mature one I've seen up close since Glory Girl. Hmm, perhaps I should have spied on those so-called heroes more closely. If only the food here wasn't so tempting!' he drooled at the memory of the queer food and drinks he had sampled. The cup of red ice, which the vendor had called a slushie (what a funny name!) was sweet unlike anything he had tasted, and he had downed the whole cup when the cold had seeped into his brain. He would discover that the people of Meiguo put sugar into nearly everything, and he meant everything. Sugar was common even back in the Tang Empire but was far more widespread here.

'I admit, I don't dislike it, but earthly flavors are more to my taste. Though I wouldn't ever turn down a sweet if offered!'

He shook his head and refocused on the ever-morphing phantasm. The lóng under it had taken to pounding the ground beneath his misty copy, leaving red-hot craters where he hit. 'I've no doubt that the apparition is feeding the mortal his powers, or at least empowering him further, though I am skeptical about the latter. The city's tainted qi almost eliminates the notion of sorcery. But for what purpose? And how do they form this connection with mortals? By now I'm almost certain the mortals know nothing about them.' He stepped closer to the lóng, letting more fire pass through him with no effect. 'It bears resemblance to possession, except the mortals' wills remain their own. A form of blessing? Gods and spirits have blessed unknowing mortals before. There are also the wisps to take into account. From what I've observed, they reacted whenever their linked mortal showed stress, be it borne of anger or sadness. They could be a lesser tier or a less mature form. But if the wisps are caterpillars and the apparitions are butterflies, then what are the cocoons?'

Wukong looked upwards, gazing at the crystalline fragments surrounding the apparition. His eyes narrowed as his mind cycled through the myriad of questions he'd conjured. There were many unknowns to deal with, and he wasn't quite sure how to approach the whole matter.

'Maybe I should leave this matter alone, I'm the last monkey to be judging on appearances…but these apparitions do not fit into any conceivable order in creation, above or below, and demons have very twisted ideas when it comes to creation.' His gaze drifted to his trusty staff and he clenched it tightly. A stray idea had started to worm into his head, and he looked back and forth between the apparition and his staff with growing intrigue.

'I wonder…none of these apparitions saw me as I saw them, but I was on the mortal plane. In this state, however, I walk the lines of the heavenly and material realms. So, can they…?'

He took a few more steps and kept staring at the fragments flickering in and out of existence. A large one floated directly above him, fluctuating in size from large to massive.

'Master would scold me for this recklessness, but I must solve one line of this grand riddle if I ever hope to solve the rest.'

He raised his hand, reached out, and the tips of his claws scratched the -

Cosmos wheeling by.

Worlds of grey decaying.

Mandalas of creation forming and unraveling, in the center a locus of black.

Fire and cold colliding and vanishing, fading out of existence.

Chaotic forms, unbound by order soaring through the void.

Stars raining upon earth, seas of swords and blood.

A wheel spun by endless arms a thousandfold.

The stars warping and radiating, strings and drums playing a concert of pandemonium.

The drums stop. The stars thrum. Their coronas flare and their cores dim. They wheel and turn, opening like countless eyes, witnessing a new light  ETERNAL  -

A crash rang, and the world was no longer gold or wispy. Wukong found himself standing with his staff extended and back in corporeal form. The false lóng was several paces away, stumbling and shaking his head. Had he performed a Cloud Strike?

He blinked and stared intently above the lóng, where the apparition still lurked, hidden from him and the world without his Golden Eyes. Now, only the spires graced the horizon.

'By the Four Realms and Six Paths…what did I just witness?'

The sound of stamping feet caught Wukong's attention and he raised his staff to block a metallic slam that rang throughout the scorched lot. Fire washed over him and he looked up to meet the blazing eyes of the lóng. Three heads taller he stood, his bulk increased and burning spines decorating his arms and back. He breathed heavily on the monkey's face with puffs of smoke flying into his eyes, conveying the hatred of a thousand years into one stare. The snout stretching from his face seemed, for a scant moment, to truly resemble the faces of those fierce spirits from ages past, who ruled the sea and skies along the gods.

The image was shattered like glass. He lurched over and was forced away, clutching his stomach. Wukong retracted his staff and put out the flames on his robes with a wave of his hand. His mind was racing with the fury of the Samadhi Wind as the images hovered in his mind, but he had a more immediate matter to deal with before the situation could unravel.

Meditation and contemplation could come later.

"Well, this has been fun, but surely you can do more than stain my robes? The ash adds a veil of character I admit, but it's rather smelly."

The lóng's response was silence. Then, a comet at lightning speeds, with such force the ground beneath him burst.

In other words, the pace of a snail.

Wukong swept his staff upward and knocked him high. With the motion of a stirring chopstick, he rapidly jabbed the lóng's abdomen over and over. He tried to recover, but the Monkey King hopped back and his staff shot out and rammed the lóng on the chin. As he stumbled back, Wukong dashed forward and spun the staff around, striking him all over before twirling and smashing him again. The màopáihuò forced himself to stand and struck forward with twin punches, with Wukong dodging both blows with such grace a shadow seemed to stay behind him. The lóng opened his mouth to roar, so he shot his tail out and wrapped it around his face before bringing it closer and smacking him on top of the skull. The Monkey King threw his staff up, stepped closer and unleashed a flurry of rapid punches on metal skin, each fist encased in stone and struck with the force of a thousand. Dazed, the lóng shook his head to recover, but Wukong spun his arm and uppercutted him so hard he almost fell over.

Casually twirling his staff, Wukong watched as the lóng struggled to get up, swelling with flames that burst through every crevice of his body.

"I have heard of your 'exploits' from the people, màopáihuò. How you rule this district with an iron fist and a hook of fear. When you first revealed yourself, I laughed, expecting more than an empty name. For a moment, I even held out hope. But this?" he shook his head and sighed loudly, coloring his voice with pure disappointment. "The thunder may rumble loud, but the rain proves to be a drizzle. I would consider you pathetic, but that would have to make me…consider you." He looked him up and down with exaggeration. "Which is proving more of a hassle than this whole bout. Let me spare you the embarrassment and knock you out, so you may retain what little pride you have."

The màopáihuò responded by crossing his arms and releasing twin crescents. With two swipes of the Ruyi Jingu Bang Wukong cleaved through them, his expression placid before morphing into a fully-fanged grin.

As he stared into the lóng's burning eyes, he spotted that oh-so-delicious glimpse all his enemies had.

The dawning realization that the anthill they saw on the horizon, had become Mount Tai. And they were mere earthworms to his feet.

"All right then."

Blow after blow came, and his foe barely held up. The staff spun like a whirlwind, striking every part of the metallic skin. Wukong advanced without pause, wielding the staff with all the centuries' worth of skill he had. Every moment the staff did not strike, stone limbs did, shattering steel and moving through flame. The blows grew stronger and stronger until scales had flown off the body and dents had started to form. Yet even still, the màopáihuò's fire didn't quench. He was stunned and woozy from the blows, but the light kept pulsating and his form seemed to grow.

Then, Wukong reached out and grabbed the man by the throat. "Still, this was somewhat enlightening, and because this Old Sun is merciful, I will give you one more chance. I do hope you are no faker…"

With a mighty heave, he threw the man up and jumped high, expanding his staff and then striking the man past the lot and the coast. He leapt midair and appeared right above him, just in time to see the utter confusion in his opponent's eyes. A confusion that turned to shock as Wukong raised his staff over his head and the grin threatened to split his face open.

"Because every lóng knows how to swim!"

With a single stroke, he brought the staff down.

Leaping again to the edge of a nearby boat, Sun Wukong watched as the burning form of the false lóng plummeted through the air and into the murky water with a loud splash. A great steam plume rose from the splash zone as an orange hue lit up the water. The spectacle remained for a few seconds before slowly dimming and blending with the iron blood in the liquid beneath him.

Minutes passed, and the steam had faded. The faint bubbling that blossomed upon the surface had ceased. The glow of the lóng's flames had vanished, subsumed by the murkiness of the sea.

'A false one he may be, but he is tough for a mortal. At least his ego shall feast upon a nice meal of humility, fish and rice!'

Wukong nodded with satisfaction and reclined, only to quickly right himself back up. He looked over his shoulder and frowned at the steep incline of the boat, leading straight into the sea.

"Hmm, not a suitable spot for resting." He looked around and spotted a hill to the west, overlooking the coast. He jumped off the boar and leapt through the air, landing on the lush grass. Once he landed, he turned to face the decaying docks and sat down.

After he settled into the lotus position and placed his staff on his lap, Wukong sighed and dragged a palm over his face. Exhaustion filled his mind, and it was not from the false lóng's blows.

'Of all the possibilities that could have sprung from this bout, whatever it was I saw was far from anything I might have divined.' He gazed at the coastline and the city and drummed his claws on his staff. He tried to remember the vision, but the details were hazy. 'The images…they were beyond mere sight and sound. Even now, as I try to recall them, the details grow muted, with only the sensations remaining. What was that? A vision?' He frowned. 'If so, is it one of the past or the future? Hmm, it all went by so fast…gah, none of it makes sense! There is no pattern, no understanding! The symbols, swords, stars - what do they mean!? And the last one…'

He stroked his chin. The last image remained the most distinct, and he had a niggling suspicion as to what it meant. 'Did it see me? Did they all see me?'

That was an uncomfortable thought. Regardless of what that vision meant, it confirmed something for the Monkey King: the apparitions were not a natural part of the world. They were something new, something…other.

'Heh. Look at me, who had witnessed the true forms and splendors of heaven and hell, who stood before the Buddha himself on his palm, chewing my nails like some simpering maid!' He scanned the skyline again and returned his hand to his lap. 'Every riddle here leads to another. If this Old Sun truly has drawn the apparitions' attention, I need to be careful. I do not know what their nature is, and I have no idea how they - or the mortals they have bound themselves to - will react.'

He looked up at the sky, where streaks of sunlight pierced the grey clouds. 'What are they? What is their objective? And most importantly…how did they come here without drawing the ire of the Celestial Court? Questions I find myself asking again and again.'

He surveyed the city again, spotting flashing red-and-blue lights scattered around. He had learned they were the local police, this land's version of a city guard. Did his fight draw them in, or had the minions decided to act in their leader's absence?

Either way, he had no desire to deal with them now. More important matters required attention.

Taking flight on swallow's wings, Wukong soared away from the ruined dock. As he flew above the district, he noticed the streets bare again, no thanks to those ne'er-do-wells under the màopáihuò's banner. Yet even a snub-nosed rodent could have smelled the fear permeating the air. More than once, he saw a glimpse of a mortal peering from windows and cracks, only to quickly retreat into the confines of their homes, away from the chance of death and despair.

'If you hide from the problem, you hope the problem disappears into the ether. Heh, good to know another thing that hasn't changed. At least I ensured the màopáihuò would not throw his tantrums near their homes.' Wukong flew past the willow tree, its leaves waving in the afternoon breeze. The park remained tranquil and unchanged, an island of stability in the district's sudden tide of chaos. 'I wonder how young Thao and his sister are doing? Their mother hasn't returned with them since last time. Hm, I do not know where they live…' he mentally shrugged. 'I'll have to remedy that in due time.'

Finally, he arrived at the familiar store of his new friend and host. His circle, while appearing faded to mortal eyes, remained as strong as ever. As it should, for it was made by the prized student of Subodhi - as long as certain people didn't disregard his instructions. However, judging by the relative intactness of the street, the circle had yet to be tested. Transforming back into his handsome self, Wukong entered the shop and was greeted by the ringing of a small bell and the startled yelp of the shopkeeper

"Peizhi-xiānshēng!" he exclaimed in his native tongue. "A fine day to you!"

"A-ah, Wukong, good to see you too." The shopkeeper looked him up and down as he walked and leaned on the counter. "What happened to your robes?"

Wukong looked down and frowned. "Bah, an unfortunate consequence of putting an errant màopáihuò in his place. A shame, these robes are very comfortable."

"Màopáihuò…?" Peizhi muttered confusingly before giving him a worried yet wary glance. "Wait, was that why when I called my friends, they said something about a gang riot?"

"A gang - oh, you mean the shrimps and crabs!" Wukong chuckled and shook his head. "As relaxing as the thought is, this one was marginally stronger. In all the excitement, I forgot to address them." He turned to Peizhi with a curious stare. "Are your friends well?"

"Um…yeah, mostly." He took out his phone and rapidly pressed it. "They're shaken up, but that always happens when the gangs go wild in Brockton." He tapped more and frowned. Wukong took notice and leaned back, staring at the glowing screen. On it was a picture - a painting created with a push of a button. Wukong was delighted when he had first heard of it, especially when every one of those phones seemed to possess one. Such a novel and ingenious concept! A pity for painters, though Peizhi had told him the craft remained.

"Those cars belong to your city guard, correct?" he asked, pointing at the phone.

Peizhi nodded. "Yes, they're cop cars. They're surrounding a building that Oni Lee blew up. Some of the old-timers got seriously injured." His frown turned sorrowful and he sighed. "The heroes tried to stop him but he disappeared."

"Oni Lee…" Wukong rolled the name in his mouth, and his nose wrinkled. "I have heard that name mentioned once or twice. I assume he is a prominent member of this gang?"

"He's Lung's second-in-command, and just as vicious." The screen changed as he tapped and he showed the Monkey King another image, this time of a man wearing the mask of a demon, with red skin and sharp white teeth.

Wukong peered closer, his red eyes staring at the grainy image and he hummed. "A false yaksha…but no matter. If the màopáihuò was no challenge, then he shouldn't prove difficult."

Peizhi's head shot up quickly, the worry on his face multiplying tenfold. "Are-are you going after him?" he asked.

The monkey laughed and gently waved. "No need to concern yourself, my host. I might enjoy a good fight, but I do not seek trouble at every single instance." His smile thinned and he stared up at the ceiling, flashes of the earlier fight flickering in his mind's eye. "I…have other matters to contemplate."

"Like what?"

Wukong stroked his hairy chin for a few moments before answering. "My recent fight has given me insight into some…intriguing revelations. If I wish to clear my befuddled thoughts, I must decipher their meanings." He turned his gaze to Peizhi, whose confusion was inscribed in ink upon his face. Speaking of…

"Do you perchance have a scroll or a scrap of paper I can write on?"

The shopkeeper, while startled at first, looked under his counter and pulled a small square block topped with a hard blue paper. Taking it in his hands, Wukong lifted the blue paper to reveal layers and layers of white paper, each one marked with blue lines. "What fine paper! So thin and white! Was this also made in your factories?"

"Um…yes, I think so. It's just a notepad, I keep a pack around."

"Notepad…well, this certainly beats a rolled-up scroll!" Wukong exclaimed and flipped through the pages. Giggling at the action he flashed Peizhi an even brighter smile. "Many thanks to you, my friend!"

The man blushed and averted his eyes. "N-no problem, it's just a notepad." He reached for a thin blue object lying next to the machine that held the shop's money - a register if Wukong recalled correctly. "I've also got a pen so-"

"What's a pen?"

Peizhi startled for a moment, seemingly lost. "It's a…writing tool." He pulled out a small blue cylinder and pressed its cap, whereupon a point came out of the other end. A slight whiff told Wukong there was ink inside.

"The tool already holds the ink? Useful, saves the need for a stone. But no need," Wukong cut him off. With a flick of his wrist and a flash of light, his staff fit neatly into his palm and had sported a thin brush tip, soaked in ink.

Peizhi's eyes goggled at the little feat of magic but soon slowly nodded. "Uh…sure."

Wukong gave him a quick bow and returned to the notepad. Taking the brush in hand, he quickly began to scribble inside it, his thoughts slowly trickling from his mind and onto the paper.

'Whatever the vision I saw meant, I must get to the bottom of it, and these apparitions are key. I do not know their intentions, but what I saw did not bode well. Like the sculptor forming his creation from rock, I shall chip away at the secrets and mysteries until the truth is cast before me and the heavens. Know mine enemy as I know myself, and only then shall I win a thousand more battles. Heh, so much excitement!'

And so Sun Wukong kept writing and pondering thoughts of spirits, food and battles. Wherever this road would lead, he knew not. One thing was as sure as the rising sun though, he had a feeling it would prove an equal of one of his journeys.

'Heh, Peizhi-xiānshēng has that look Master Tang had! Those mumblings resemble all those prayers, there's the widening eyes, the paling of the face and-'

The chicken choked on his feed as his device fell upon wood.

"YOU FOUGHT LUNG!?"

'Oh, what fond memories!'

Chapter Text

IT IS I DARKSCYTHE DRAKE! HERE WITH MORE MONKE!

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Huge thanks to TrajectoryAgreement, Ridtom, and QAI521 for beta reading!

Neither sky cares, nor earth will hold,

By liquor's laugh, bold spirits unfold.

In drunken dreams, a cosmos wide,

Wake with worries cast aside.

Rare was the revelry for the minor guais who patrolled the mountain paths, their delights not granted but taken in human guise, thieving sustenance from unsuspecting townsfolk. The charade proved fleeting, for the villagers grew wise to their deceit, and the guais, oft caught mid-bite, were met with the town's rugged justice, deterring their mischief.

Among them was a wolf guai with a penchant for drink, who, on a day of indolence, lay beneath an ancient tree. Suddenly, an elder wolf, cloaked in feathers of a crane, appeared to him asking, "Why forsake your patrol for idleness?" The wolf guai sighed, "I long for drink, but the townsfolk see through me; I'm left to quench my thirst only in my dreams." The elder chuckled as he whispered a secret, "Seek the shrine. Conceal yourself behind the curtains, and the sacred spirits' liquor shall be yours to drink." Then, with a shift of form, he vanished.

Wavering in doubt, the wolf guai transformed and hurried to the town's shrine. There, veiled behind curtains, a sacred effigy stood, its origins unknown, the altar laden with delectable offerings and fine spirits. As advised,he nestled himself between the curtains, indulging in the liquor until his belches betrayed him to the gathering crowd in the shrine.

Trapped between the curtains, the wolf guai listened as a voice rang out, "The wine jar I offered is empty. Our tributes were received." A chorus of prayers erupted, beseeching favor from the Immortals.

From that day forth, folks from miles around flocked to the shrine, affording the demon endless drink. But as days passed, the once delightful treat turned bitter; and those prayers, be they piteous or greedy, weighed heavily upon him with helplessness.

One day, unable to endure the bitterness any longer, the wolf guai burst from behind the curtains, hoisting the jar and smashing it on the altar amidst the screams of onlookers. With a deafening crash, he suddenly awoke beneath the tree: no shrine, no incense, no crowd around. With a tired sigh, he took up his axe and set off to patrol the mountains once more.

-Wolf Stalwart, Lesser Yaoguai, Yaoguai Journals

Peizhi Luo thought that he could get used to his strange houseguest. That, despite the talking monkey-man barging into his life from out of nowhere, he could maintain some semblance of normalcy in his daily life.

Yes, he knew he was hosting a cape, and yes, everyone knew they got into trouble one way or another, but he imagined something more along the lines of beating up gangsters or joining the PRT. And that it would happen far away from his shop where it wouldn't get destroyed. He didn't trust the supposed magic circle yet and had little desire to test it.

Sure, he got into a fight with Glory Girl - he had to clamp down on his lips every time he saw her on the news - but after the self-proclaimed Sun Wukong had agreed to lay low, he'd thought he'd reached a breakthrough. He still felt like walking on eggshells whenever he was around, but the monkey-man didn't strike him as a bad sort.

Then his public thrashing of the ABB went viral and he felt his heart almost give out, which shouldn't happen since he was barely 40! Still, Wukong promised not to draw any attention to his store, and realistically he knew he had no options when it came to stopping the monkey. Since then he was spotted around the Asian district, popping in and out of food stores and trying every conceivable snack, drink, and junk food they had in stock. Peizhi almost asked if they were handouts or if Wukong actually paid for them, but he held his tongue.

Besides, everyone on social media was making jokes at him and not freaking out, so it wasn't that bad, right?

Looking back, Peizhi cursed his past self to the deepest hells for even thinking such naive thoughts.

"You fought LUNG!?"

The monkey-cape paused writing in the notepad, tilting his head. "Lung…yes, that was his name. He doesn't even know how to pronounce what he imitates properly."

The strangled animal in Peizhi's throat crooned as the man slumped on the counter, his eyes rapidly twitching. "H-how-when-wh-WHAT!? HOW DID-" his eyes darted to the door to ensure it was closed. "How did that even happen!?"

Wukong hummed and lifted his chin, tapping it with the brush… that he transformed from his staff. Yes, as if that was the most glaring issue right now. "Well, I was busy munching on this delicious new dried fruit - a banana, what a peculiar name! - a kind vendor offered me when I heard this blustering wind blowing down the streets of this fair city, calling out my name. I swing over and see a half-naked man with pitiful shrimps and crabs threatening to immolate some poor townsfolk. Being the good-natured Buddhist that I am, I hopped over to see what was all the fuss about. He introduced himself and told a rather funny joke. Heh, I haven't laughed that hard since that pig fell into a pool of courtesan spirits and got the beating of his life!" He mock-sighed and shook his head. "Unfortunately, the gods deprived this man of a sense of humor, so he proceeded to throw a tantrum like an angry child, so this Old Sun took him aside and gave him a good whipping. Then I returned, with a singed robe to show for my efforts, to your welcoming presence."

…

…

…what the f-

What.

"You…whipped…Lung?" Peizhi croaked, unable to process the monkey's words.

"Well, I threw in a few cuffs on the head for good measure, but I think it was sufficient enough to teach him not to go preying on poor innocent mortals."

This was a fever dream, it had to be. Or maybe the leaves in his morning tea went rotten because Peizhi's brain short-circuited with every word coming out of his houseguest's mouth. He desperately wanted to check his phone, to confirm or deny the monkey's words…but a minute voice, likely from the decaying remnants of his fraying sanity, whispered pleas of mercy, begging him to avoid the outcome should he see the actual news.

It wasn't possible. It went against every facet of his life!

"Peizhi-xiānshēng? Are you well? You seem to be doing a proper charade of a fish. Is this some strange new custom of Meiguo that I have yet to learn?"

It took him a minute, but Peizhi finally managed to unclog his throat and allow normal-sounding words to exit his lips.

"Ah…I…forgive me, Wukong, I was taken by surprise. No one's ever been able to take down Lung, not since he came to Brockton Bay."

Wukong hummed while twirling his small brush. "The mortals have told me in hushed whispers about his iron grip, but they were reluctant to say much else. Was he truly so formidable?"

Peizhi nodded and his voice took a graver tone. "We had gangs in this part of town before, but Lung came to power by beating and killing his way through them, and the rest he assimilated into the ABB. Triads, yakuza, Vietnamese - if they were Asian, he came after them and gave them an offer: join or die. Everyone in the district had to pay for 'protection', but Lung made it organized. When his thugs came, you paid, one way or another." The shopkeeper grimaced as he recalled the few times he was privy to one of the ABB's more violent 'collections'. "Baba's old neighbors had a grandkid, and one day his friends convinced him to join. I don't know the exact details, but he made a mistake and the only thing the police could find were his arms. They had enough money to leave Brockton, but most aren't that lucky."

"His men fear no repercussions, so they share his brutality. Not unexpected," Wukong commented, his rasp lowering into a growl at the last words. "And the…heroes…couldn't stop him?"

"They tried at first, but he was just too strong. Every time, he left them with molten flesh and severed limbs, not to mention the damage he left wherever he rampaged. A couple of heroes didn't listen to the PRT's warnings and tried to go after him independently, and he dealt with them, so no one would think he was kidding. He mounted one of their heads in the middle of the street." He'd almost thrown up when he saw the footage, along with half the people in the bar. The other half got so drunk they passed out and stayed the night. "He hasn't been that brutal these past few years, but make no mistake - he didn't and wouldn't hesitate to make anyone into an example."

Another hum escaped Wukong's lips. He still retained that curious look, but Peizhi noticed the barely imperceptible steel that entered his gaze. "I suppose, with such infamy and brutality backed up by his abilities, it would make sense for you to fear him. Still, he shan't be bothering you for a while now."

Peizhi idly nodded, his brain not in sync with movements. In some ways, he still didn't believe him. "Where is he now?"

"Eh, I gave him once last chance to prove he was a true long. Even if he could control fire, all long were masters of navigating waters. The only thing left is to wait and see if he passed the test." The monkey's forehead scrunched up. "He did strike me as a tenacious fellow, so it wouldn't be a decisive blow…bah, no matter!" He waved dismissively. "I know his type; his pride will take a blow greater than any wound I inflicted. The Rhinoceros King remained a husk of his former boastful self after I disarmed him and thrashed him around by his nose. Come to think of it, I have only seen him once since that time."

As Peizhi tried to piece together what exactly Wukong did to Lung, his jaw chewing on air, the last couple of sentences caught his attention. "The…Rhinoceros King?" he asked, memories unbidden of his childhood floating to the surface. In the stories, Sun Wukong fought many foes and while he didn't remember all of them - he didn't think anyone he knew did - there were some notable ones. "The demon who stole your weapons?"

Wukong's eyes widened and his lips curled upwards, revealing his fangs. "Ah, you've heard of that adventure? Yes, he was a troublesome one; required a touch of finesse that I lacked in my youth. Who regaled you with the tale? No doubt your father or the town elders spoke of my adventures to their youths! Even when I visited the Tang court, my adventures were already on every noble and beggar's lips!" A raspy yet hearty laugh escaped Wukong's throat, while Peizhi hesitantly smiled. Wukong nailed it pretty much on the head. Storytime in the parks and friends' houses was one of the few good memories he had of Brockton, and Journey to the West, with all of Wukong's misadventures, was a favorite. Even now, the memory remained vivid; the scents of chicken, fresh bao, pho and gyoza, the warm light of the red lanterns, and the excited chatters of his friends…

Heh, the way his houseguest talked about it…it almost made one believe he was the actual Sun Wukong. But that was impossible.

Tang Sanzang, or Xuanzang, might have been real, but Wukong, Zhu Bajie, the Demon Kings, and all the other fantastical figures?

Characters in a good story, nothing more.

"So…you're saying Lung will come back?"

"He didn't seem like the type to go down easily but if he does crawl his way back here, I will ensure his punishment is more…lasting." A growl laced the word. "He shan't trouble anyone in this city again, you have my word as the Monkey King of Flower-Fruit Mountain."

The shopkeeper nodded, despite his returned nervousness. Lung was relentless, and if he did shake off whatever Wukong did to him, it wasn't gonna be pretty. "There's still Oni Lee - he can still rally the rest of the gang behind him."

"If the false yaksha knows what's good for him, he will slink back into whatever pit he came from, lest he suffer the fate of his master."

Peizhi blinked at the casual reply and was about to comment on how Oni Lee would be unlikely to do that…but in the end, he sighed and picked himself up. He had a feeling trying to stop the monkey from getting into trouble was like asking the E88 to stop being Nazis.

"If you say so. What are you planning to do now?"

Wukong chewed the end of his brush while scratching his furry cheek with a knuckle, mulling over his question. "The matter I discovered during my fight with the false lóng merits direct investigation. I should have started earlier, but more urgent affairs occupied my notice." Why did Peizhi have a feeling those 'urgent affairs' involve giving food vendors heart attacks? "I admit, I have little idea on where to start, but further exploration of this city will suffice for now."

Further exploration of the city…which meant a chance to run into a hero or a gang…which meant more fights…

"Uh, do you need any help with your…investigation?" the shopkeeper hurriedly asked, scratching his coat. Wukong blinked at the question and chuckled.

"Ah, I would not wish to burden you further, Peizhi-xiānshēng. You have already been a most gracious host to this Old Sun, and you asked me to avoid drawing attention to you and your humble shop. Besides, this is a matter that only I am equipped to deal with."

Peizhi reluctantly nodded. Even so, he still felt like he had to add something. "Just…whatever it is you're investigating, could you try not to flip the city upside-down looking for it?"

Wukong cackled and Peizhi felt both trepidation and amusement at the same time. Well, he tried.

"I shall be as delicate as the butterfly, my host, but when troubled times loom, the foundation of such promises are as fragile as dirt." He tucked away the notepad and brush and clapped. "So, is there food nearby? I'm afraid I have grown rather peckish."

A new day had dawned, the sun rose and the birds chirped with joy.

Wukong slurped his noodles and resisted a giggle as the exquisite broth ran down his throat. "Once more, my friend, your cooking exceeds the kitchens of emperors! If my monkeys could drink this fine soup every morning, no soldier of heaven would ever match them, for they would fight with fire that only a full stomach and a hearty meal could stoke!"

The poor man retreated into his woolen jacket like a turtle as he blushed like a maid. "It-it's nothing special, I'm telling you. I know lots of people who cook better than I do, and they can make way more than just some soup and stir-fry."

"Pride may be one of the five poisons, but knowing your accomplishments only strengthens your resolve. Better cooks labor in the kitchens of the heavens, but I would take this dish over a feast on the Jade Emperor's table. Were my two previous servings not enough proof?"

If the man blushed any harder, he would resemble a ripened peach. In his infinite mercy, Wukong chuckled and put down his bowl. "Now, while this Old Sun would greatly desire to further partake in your company, I must be off." He rose from his chair and opened the window. "I do not expect to be gone all day, so I shall return by supper. Pleasantries and good fortune to you and your shop!"

With those words, Wukong hopped out the window and bound through the air until he landed on a rooftop. Once his feet touched the ground, he whipped out his notepad and brush.

'Today's my first day of properly investigating the apparitions that haunt this city of Brockton Bay, unseen and unnoticed by all but me.' He looked at his notes and chewed his lip. 'From what I have witnessed so far, they are tethered to this realm through some form of possession. This means if I wish to understand their nature, I must observe them, and to observe them, I must spy on the so-called heroes. Yes…yes, that would be the correct course of action.'

With that thought set, Wukong transformed into a swallow and flew off. The world flashed gold and to the west, he saw not one, but two apparitions floating side by side. With a beat of his wings, he soon found himself perched on a leafless branch and staring at two oddly-garbed women. They were staring down at a group of thugs, strewn on the road, next to a ruined shop.

"Really, you thought robbing a store in broad daylight would be a good idea?" the younger one asked and shook her golden-haired head, her face hidden behind a green helmet. "New low guys, new low."

"Piss off, Ward!"

The girl tilted her head and stomped her feet, and in an instant the ground sunk below the thugs and they dropped inside, yelling profanities.

Wukong hummed and looked at the girl's apparition, formless and surrounded by crystalline fragments. The moment she used her power, the spirit seemed to collapse in on itself and expand back to its original size. It was rather jarring, he had to admit, especially when the spirits apparently had no permanent form. More than that…the surrounding buildings also stretched, though in reality, no such thing had occurred.

"Vista," chided the older woman. In utter contrast, she wore dark green clothes with many pockets and her mouth and nose were obscured by a red and white scarf. A sash bearing the same colors and a cluster of stars on a blue field was tied around her waist.

The girl mumbled under her breath and tapped her feet a second time, causing the ground to swell back up and lift the tied-up thugs. Another round of profanities later and the older woman stared down at them before pressing a finger to her ear.

"Miss Militia here, there's been an attempted robbery on Grayson Street. Vista and I intercepted successfully." She paused, then nodded. "Roger, we'll wait for them."

The defeated ruffians bemoaned their misfortune, and Wukong giggled internally. 'Ah, now that is a sight that brings warmth to this Old Sun. Crime bears bitter fruit my friends, and now you shall fully savor its taste!'

Miss Militia - what was it with these strange titles? - looked over the store before her eyes narrowed at an alley to her right. She took a step forward and called out: "In the alley! Come out with your hands up!"

Another thug dashed out of the alley and away from her like a man possessed. Before Wukong could blink, the woman's apparition sprouted limbs, and a greenish energy formed around her hands, morphing into a long black device. Hmm, some of the ruffians had such things on their person before I knocked them into the dust, but what could they possibly be?'

She took aim and -

Wukong jumped from his branch and cheeped in surprise as the cracking sound rang through his little skull. What fiendish contraption was that!?

Even through his ringing ears, a thud drew his attention and saw the thug clutching his knee in visible agony.

"FUCK WAS THAT YOU BITCH!? YOU ALMOST KILLED ME!"

"Don't be dramatic, it's just rubber," she replied, pulling the man's hands behind his band and tying them together with a queer white cord. As she pressed a finger to her ear once more, Wukong gazed with rapt attention at the weapon - for what else could it be? - in her hand.

'What manner of innovation is this? Something hit his knee…and it came from that weapon. What could cause it to travel so fast that I couldn't see it? Granted, I wasn't paying much attention…' He shook his head. 'Is this the weapon common to these lands?'

The sound was akin to thunder, and he remembered spotting a flash of smoke from the end of the weapon. It reminded him of back when he was welcomed in Heaven, when he visited old sage Laozi and watched his alchemical experiments. Many of them involved burning and exploding materials, and those little spectacles bore great resemblance to what he'd just seen and heard. And during a stay in some alchemist's hut on the Journey, their host had babbled about some reactions he'd caused when purifying the Four Yellow Drugs, even demonstrating some. The pig of course, in his stupidity, had leaned too close to the alchemist's furnace and burned his eyebrows, and they all had a good laugh. He might have seen more should he have stayed in the Court's good graces, but alas, eating the old sage's supply of golden pills noticeably soured their relationship.

'Hmm…have they advanced their alchemy to such a point? I must ask Peizhi-xiānshēng about this…' He mulled over it some more before shaking his head. 'Focus, Wukong! Strange mortal weapons can come later!'

He returned his stare to the woman's apparition, whose limbs now sported strange grooves running along them, and a flame of jade burned in each of its hundred palms. When the woman lowered her weapon, the fire dimmed, but the arms remained as they were, holding them aloft as though offering an eldritch prayer.

'A bodhisattva without a face…first Glory Girl, and now this. Is this merely what the Golden Eyes show me? Or is there a deeper link here? And the power the girl wields…I'd say an Earth-warping technique if I'd ever seen one. The space around her though…maybe something more.'

Vista sighed and the woman turned her head. "What's wrong?"

"It was Kid Win, he's with Armsmaster right now. They busted more ABB goons trying to steal a car." She crossed her arms and shrugged, causing the green cape hanging over her shoulders to bounce. "This is the sixth arrest in the past day, these guys are running wild."

"Lung kept them together. Oni Lee's still MIA, and until he comes back, the ABB is leaderless," replied Miss Militia. "BBPD's been working around the clock trying to bust their drug dens while fighting off the Empire thugs, and then capes are thrown in the pot. Assault had to fight Stormtiger not a few hours ago. Until we can coordinate our forces, we're running damage control."

"Where is Lung anyway? Didn't they track him to the docks?"

The woman side-eyed the tied-up bandits and stepped away. Wukong flew over to a nearby crevice on a wall and perched there.

"The salvage crew didn't spot him," she replied softly, far too quiet for the thugs to hear her - but not the sharp-eared Wukong. "We're combing the shoreline to see if he swam somewhere nearby."

The little girl grimaced. "Great. So we've gotta shut the ABB down before their capes come back. That's gonna be annoying." She then perked up. "Wait, what about that new cape who called him out? You know, the monkey-man? What're the chances he took him out?"

Her…instructor? Teacher? Gave another glance, this time in every direction. "We'll debrief you all when we're back at the Rig. If we do run into him, you know what to do?"

"Yeah, stay calm, try and talk to him, and you give him the pitch, Armsmaster made us say it five times yesterday 'till we got the point. He wouldn't even let Stalker leave until she did it."

Flashes of red and blue shone against the buildings where the road turned. A moment later, black-and-white cars drove by and stopped before the heroines. Men wearing blue uniforms and flat caps climbed out of the cars and after talking to them, gathered the ruffians and loaded them into one of the metal chariots. Vista raised her arms and the rubble began clearing away from the collapsed store, parting like a wave of earth. Residents streamed out of the neighboring houses and were directed to the side of the street by Miss Militia, answering their panicked queries calmly.

When the rubble was cleared and the heroines began questioning the store's owners, Wukong decided he had seen enough from them. With a beat of his wings, he took off with none the wiser. 'So, the heroes are looking for this Old Sun are they? Hmm, perhaps I'll indulge their desire for conversation over tea sometime, but not today.'

And so the Monkey King flew around the city, spying on the mysterious phantasms and the mortals 'blessed' by them.

A bearded man, wearing blue armor and a halberd that could change size, much like Wukong's own staff; his spirit, shimmering blue and whose fragments spun around its body like the great rings of planets, held great spiked chakrams of steel that rotated in place and contrasted inwards and outwards.

At his side was a younger lad, his red armor worn and scratched unlike his companion; behind him the apparition grasped a gargantuan cube and took it apart piece by piece, only to rearrange it in a new shape, long and narrow with a hole at the end, like Miss Militia's loud weapon.

Further southwest, a pair stood side by side and addressed a crowd holding phones and strange fuzz-covered devices. The red-masked man smiled and waved jovially at them and answered questions, sporting a calmness that utterly contrasted his apparition; spinning, vibrating, and surrounding the air with afterimages. At times, they appeared to engulf the city itself with their size and frequency.

The costume the woman next to him wore was…bizarre, to say the least. For what reason did she need those blue lines? They were neither elegant nor colorful, as he had seen on many a robe, including his master's kasaya. Thankfully, her phantasm looked a great deal more intriguing, surrounded by storm clouds and crackling lightning bolts. Only…there was something off about it. Unlike the other apparitions, there was something…off about this one. Where the others housed an ever-present light that shone incandescently, this one's light appeared…tarnished, akin to a flickering candle, burning through the last threads of its wick.

Yet another puzzle.

Watching their apparitions from afar, he observed them. When they finally finished talking to the various people, Wukong decided it was ample time to stop and gather his thoughts. After grabbing an apple from a nearby fruit stand - much to the outrage of its owner - Wukong flew high to a distant roof and transformed back.

'From what those two demonstrated, the powers and apparitions are tied even further than I anticipated.' He thought as he munched on the fruit. 'The power does not stem from any path they develop but is specifically linked with the apparition. Some things such as strength and endurance are repeated, but there is a more individualistic aspect to these apparitions, and the heroes reflect that.'

Staring at the street below him, he watched the people milling about their daily lives. Above their heads floated the golden wisps, strings that flickered like ephemeral fireflies. A father pulled his son by the arm, and the wisp above the boy's head flickered as the father squeezed.

'To react to negativity like this…nothing good can come out of it. Any spirit that thrives on such emotions is never so benevolent. But assuming these wisps are connected to the greater apparitions, what exactly is the bridge they must cross? Are they drones or chrysalises?'

Wukong cheeped with frustration, or as much frustration a swallow can display, and ruffled his feathers. 'No, I need more information than this. This time the wisps must have my attention, but there are a great many of them in the city. Perhaps it's time to pull out the old hairs for a little -'

Oh. Hold on.

He could survey the wisps of utter strangers and analyze from there.

'Or…I could observe the one wisp that actually caught my attention. Oh, Old Sun, your genius boggles my mind!'

Giggling to himself and lauding his genius, Wukong changed into a swallow again and headed further west, into the dirty and worn districts, away from the glass spires. Paying no mind to anything else, he kept flying until he reached a familiar house. Landing on its porch, he perched silently and stared at the worn and dirty street.

The sun had passed its winter noon mark, and Wukong did little but observe the road, occasionally preening his feathers. A few mortals passed him by, but they were nothing of note, even if one of them had a wisp.

'Hmm, I wonder if I should grab another fruit…that vendor had some juicy melon slices in little boxes…and there were those red fruits right next to the cucumbers…tomatoes? What a funny name. But if they are fruits, why were they placed next to a vegetable?'

Footsteps drew him from his daydreams of fruits and a reedy figure came from down the street. If a swallow could do it, his grin would resemble the waning moon.

'Hello there, xiǎochánnǚ. What a surprise to see in this dreary neighborhood.'

She appeared the same since he last saw her; the overcoat was different, but her posture, her gangly frame, and the weariness in her eyes remained unchanged, and so did her wisp. No trace of that vexing insect shape appeared in that ever-shifting strand of light, but the flashes of light it emitted were brighter.

Walking up to the porch, the waif passed him by with nary a glance. That wouldn't do.

Gathering a touch of air in his little lungs, Wukong cheeped sharply. At once, the girl turned to him and blinked from behind her glasses. Hand in her pocket, she stared at him with genuine befuddlement, as though she'd never seen a swallow on her porch before.

Her head started to turn away, and Wukong chirped again. Freezing briefly, she looked at the Monkey King again. To further grab her attention, he cheeped for a third time and made a show of hopping on the wooden rail.

"Uh…" the girl bit her lips, her gaping eyes darting between the door and himself until her brow creased. "Hi?"

Wukong tilted his beaked head at her, eager to see her reaction. Finally, the girl's shoulders slumped as an incredulous laugh escaped her. "Great, now you've gone off the deep end, Taylor. First a sparrow, next thing you know you'll be talking to the bugs under your floor!"

Taylor…so that was her name.

Savagely reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a key and jammed it into the lock, opening the door. Flying behind her, Wukong went through and into her living space. It reminded him of his hosts' quarters, with the table in the middle and the small kitchen in the corner, even a white icebox that could keep food fresh.

"Wha-hey!" she yelled as he circled the table before perching on top of a chair. The girl - Taylor, he reminded himself - met his eyes with a frustrated look.

"Go-go on! Shoo!" she bit out, waving in the air. "I don't have any food!"

Wukong stared at her and then around the room. Shabby on the outside and inside.

'Ugh, bad enough the qi in this city is polluted, but it flows here crooked. Barely any harmony. No wonder she seems so miserable.'

Then, Taylor huffed and shook her head, muttering under her breath. "What am I doing?"

Throwing her bag on the floor, Taylor walked to the little kitchen. After frowning at a little note stuck on the icebox's door, she searched inside a cupboard and pulled out a bag. "I don't have any seeds, but this can work."

Wukong chirped at the white slice she held and tore apart in her hands before placing it on the table. Approaching it, he took in its scent. 'I've seen this in the stores and Peizhi-xiānshēng's cupboard. Grain, yeast, a hint of sugar…reminds me of those flat pastries from India.' He pecked the scrap and gobbled a morsel. 'Other than the unneeded presence of sugar, it's a bit dry but otherwise palatable. Kāidòng!'

As he kept pecking away at the treat, Wukong felt Taylor watch him while eating the rest of the slice.

"Must be nice, being a bird. If you feel life's shitty, you can fly away and never look back."

While surprised by her sudden speech, Wukong couldn't help but agree with her. To soar through the clouds with neither worry nor care, with only the wind caressing your body, was the greatest sensation any being, mortal or immortal, could experience—pure freedom coursing through your body, greater than any pill. There was a reason his current form was one of his favorites.

"I wonder how the heroes feel, like Alexandria," she continued, lifting her head to the worn ceiling. "Most people would kill to fly like her, feeling nothing can get you and nothing can stop you."

Alexandria? From the tinge of admiration in her voice, she must be quite the prominent one. Was she like Glory Girl?

"But then," she chuckled and smiled bitterly. "Life grabs you by the legs and drags you down. You find yourself back on the ground and your face in the mud, just so life can remind you how shitty it is."

The wisp glowed brightly above the girl's cloud of misery, and the Monkey King frowned. 'Is it merely devouring her negativity or also generating it? Regardless, this does not bode well. Either case, I've seen the grasp of misery on people long enough to know it has quite the grip on her.'

When he had finished the last of his treat, Taylor stood up with a huff. "Welp, it's been fun, but I've gotta go shopping. Dad'll be coming late from an emergency meeting and there's nothing in the fridge."

She rolled her shoulders and headed for the door. Wukong flitted from the table and onto her messy head of hair, tangling the strands between his claws. 'Such unkemptness! A good bit of grooming would do marvels for her look.'

Dodging the hand coming toward him, he took off out the door, ignoring her yells of protest. Out of the corner of his eye, he inwardly grinned at her pointed glare, which quickly morphed into surprise once she felt her scalp. Landing on the high reaches of the nearby tree, he caught her whispered words.

"Did it just…" she paused and shook her head. "Get a grip, Taylor."

Wukong puffed his chest. 'All monkeys and birds are superb groomers, xiǎochánnǚ. How else do you think fleas never stay long in our fur and feathers?'

Locking the door behind her and heading to the street, Wukong followed her from afar. Above her head, the wisp remained as it was, though the light kept pulsating. Not with the same intensity during her little speech, but present all the same. She kept walking and turning until she came to a store and shopped there for a few minutes. To pass the time, Wukong went back to observing the street. It was nothing remarkable, maybe wider than others in the neighborhood, and the odd car or group of people passed by. One group that lingered by, glaring at something or other looked like monks - at least head-wise. No self-respecting monk would dress like…that!

When she was finished, Taylor walked out holding a white bag, stuffed with goods. The walk back would've been uneventful…

…but the paths of karma were as mysterious as they were absolute, and at times they were laden with chaos.

A shout came, then more.

Thunder cracked a second time that day. Two groups of youths began duking it out on the street, fists flying and weapons cracking. Blood was soon drawn and that infernal thunder rang through the air a third time before the weapon was bludgeoned away from its grabby hand. What scant mortals there remained fled the scene, as more ruffians, yelling war cries and obscenities, joined the fray.

As for Taylor? She grew rooted to the earth, almost dead to the world, were it not for the rapid beating of her heart, which to Wukong sounded like a raging drum.

One of the thugs got struck by a club and fell on his back, bracing against the blow. The jeers and hollers of his 'comrades' and enemies mixed with raining blows on flesh. Fortunately, it was then that the girl finally gathered some nerve and ran from the scene while clutching her bags.

Just as she entered the crossroads, two thugs ran past her and sent her sprawling, along with her bags and all their contents. She tried to get up, be it to run or gather what she lost, when a horn blared and a mass of steel came speeding towards her, unable to stop. Her eyes widened as it drew closer and closer -

Wait.

There it was.

Legs, wings, gold.

'This won't do at all.'

Steel crashed and glass shattered…but not a single drop of blood was spilled.

For there, with his staff lodged in the black rock and the car utterly broken against it, was the Monkey King.

The noise immediately drew the thugs' attention. While the bald ones looked confused, the familiar ones appeared to have stumbled upon the walking corpses of their ancestors.

"Salutations, ruffians!" Wukong called with a wave. "I know you are all eager to shed blood amongst each other, but would you kindly leave? Unfortunate mortals are quite disturbed by your little tussle over there."

A bald one poked his friend in the ribs. "Hey, wasn't this guy on the news?" he whispered.

"Yeah, I think he was with the slants."

"Fuck, we can't fight a cape right now! Where did Hookwolf go!?"

In contrast to their frantic whispers, the other group went pale as Peizhi-xiānshēng's sheets. A gangly boy raised a shaking finger and pointed at him. "Y-y-you-you're-"

"Yes, it is I! I know, I know; it is natural to be speechless before this Old Sun, so I shan't fault you on that." Wukong waved them as if chiding a gaggle of simple-minded children. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you lot the false lóng's crab soldiers? Haven't you learned your lesson when I fed your leader his dish of well-earned humiliation?"

The bald thugs seemed to possess some modicum of intellect because a tattooed one's eyes widened and his shoulders tensed. "Shit. Guys. I think it's him. Fuck the slants, we need to book it, like, now."

His comrades look back and forth between him and Wukong, fear and uncertainty written all over their brutish frames. Sighing, Wukong pulled his staff from the ground and away from the car - the owner had wisely elected to run off while they were chatting - and took a step forward, causing all of them to flinch.

"It's good to see some of you have preservation instincts; those are rare amongst your breed. Now then, I'm in the mood for a morning exercise…" He twirled his staff around and pointed it at them. "So unless you are willing to volunteer, I suggest you take whatever grievances you have away from the poor mortal folk of this town.

Do you have any misgivings with my suggestion?"

Rodents came to Wukong's mind, for the bandits made spectacular impressions of those troublesome pests. At that moment, they put aside their differences and scurried away with fire on their heels; all but one, who held the thunder-weapon in his hand, utterly shaking and pale.

"Ah, I knew you were a brave sort!" He tapped the staff against the ground, leaving a tiny but noticeable crater. "Shall we?"

Squealing like a newborn pig, the youth spun around and ran. A pout overcame Wukong's face as he threw his staff at the retreating thug. In a flash of light, the staff grew and struck his head, causing him to collapse. With a wiggle of his finger, the staff snapped back into his palm.

"Well, that was a nice stretch. Barely had any nerve that one, he should try breathing deeply if he ever gets the chance." Ignoring the groan of the thug, Wukong dusted himself off and turned to the girl he'd saved, who lay as before, panting. The mask of shock she bore was so comical he held back a guffaw. 'She does resemble a crouched cicada from here.'

"Apologies for the unpleasantness, little one. I'm sure that must have been a harrowing experience." He crouched down while leaning on his staff, and offered her a hand. "My name is Sun Wukong, and I noticed you were in trouble.

It might be silly of me to ask this, but are you alright?"

Chapter Text

YES, IT IS I!

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Huge thanks to TrajectoryAgreement, Ridtom, and QAI521 for beta reading!

From below the Immortal Elder Ge, the Celestial Master, 8 also brought forth the report. "Your Majesty, the Minister of Darkness, King Qinguang, supported by the Bodhisattva King Kṣitigarbha, Pope of the Underworld, has arrived to present his memorial." The jade girl in charge of communication came from the side to receive this document, which the Jade Emperor also read from the beginning. The memorial said:

"The Region of Darkness is the nether region proper to Earth. As Heaven is for gods and Earth for ghosts, so life and death proceed in cyclic succession. Fowls are born and animals die; male and female, they multiply. Births and transformations, the male begotten of the procreative female—such is the order of Nature, and it cannot be changed. But now appears Sun Wukong, a Heaven-born baneful monkey from the Water-Curtain Cave in the Flower-Fruit Mountain, who practices evil and violence, and resists our proper summons. Exercising magic powers, he utterly defeated the ghostly messengers of Ninefold Darkness; exploiting brute force, he terrorized the Ten Merciful Kings. He caused great confusion in the Palace of Darkness; he abrogated by force the Register of Names, so that the category of monkeys is now beyond control, and inordinately long life is given to the simian family. The wheel of transmigration is stopped, for birth and death are eliminated in each kind of monkey. Your poor monk therefore risks offending your Heavenly authority in presenting this memorial. We humbly beg you to send forth your divine army and subdue this monster, to the end that life and death may once more be regulated and the Underworld rendered perpetually secure. Respectfully we present this memorial."

When the Jade Emperor had finished reading, he again gave a command: "Let the Lord of Darkness return to the Underworld. We shall send our generals to arrest this culprit." King Qinguang also touched his head to the ground gratefully and left.

-Journey to the West, chapter 3

The previous evening…

Colin swung the doors open and strode into the PRT briefing room. Director Piggot sat in her chair, her arms steepled and bearing a heavy-set frown. Under the soft-blue fluorescent lights, several more heroes sat around the table, and they all bore marks of exhaustion similar to his: tenseness, the odd mark or injury on their suit, and a drumming finger here and there. They all eyed him but made no move to give their usual greetings hello's and waves. Triumph gave him a brief nod but was frowning under his lion-shaped mask.

He didn't blame them. The past three hours were intense, in a different way than usual. Colin had been riding his bike in proverbial before he got the call. And if what he'd gathered was accurate, then it was only going to get worse.

Wordlessly, Colin slipped into the chair between the director and Triumph, his armor clunking against the armrests. Piggot also flickered her eyes in his direction and checked her phone before her frown grew deeper. A quick check inside his visor confirmed the reason for her displeasure.

"Are we waiting for the others?" asked Battery, looking at the entrance. "We need to get back out there soon. There's been flare-ups all over the city."

"Miss Militia and Clockblocker are still out helping with rescue efforts and Velocity is helping Dauntless with wrangling a sudden Empire break-in," replied Colin. "I'll debrief them when they get back."

Piggot nodded and stood up. "Right. I thank you for coming so quickly, but there's been a recent development that we need to address. Armsmaster?"

Colin straightened himself and cleared his throat. "At 16:30, Oni Lee conducted a raid with some ABB members on what we suspect was an Empire safe house. Miss Militia and Clockblocker responded to the Console alert and moved to engage and capture until he managed to teleport away. The BBPD arrested the gangbangers that accompanied him. The casualty count is currently seven injured, with three undergoing further treatment at Brockton General." He tapped his wristpad and images of the ramshackle building appeared on the big screen. "Minor damage has been dealt to the supposed safe house from gunfire and Lee's whereabouts are currently unknown."

"PRT troops are spread throughout the area and on the lookout for Lee," added Piggot. "We've told the Wards to keep an eye out on patrols as well, with standard encounter procedures."

Assault raised his hand. "I'm not trying to sound callous here, but this doesn't sound unusual for Lee. He pops in, stabs people and disappears. Why call a general meeting over this?"

"Because the attack was a ruse to keep us distracted," said Colin, typing in another command. "From this."

A video clip appeared on the monitor and everyone's eyes widened. The shaky clip looked like it was shot from a nearby window. Battery leaned forward, her blue helmet focused on the hulking tattooed figure standing before a line of kneeling people.

"An execution? What the hell is he trying to-"

Lung was about to hurl a fireball at two of the civilians when something grabbed his arm. The camera zoomed in at the would-be saviour and Assault pointed at the screen. "Hey, isn't that the new cape you told us about? The one that was making all the news with the ABB thugs?"

"He calls himself Sun Wukong." Colin paused the clip. The quality wasn't the best, but even through 360p everyone could see the monkey holding Lung's arm while munching on a snack. "Evidently, Lung decided to answer his challenge. We anticipated that a reprisal would come sooner or later, but we hoped the increased patrols would intercept one of them before it could escalate."

Assault's eyebrows rose from behind his red domino mask. "What kind of a name is Sun Wukong?"

"Chinese deity, from local folklore. Our new cape appears to be a fan."

"Lung sends Lee to keep us busy and he goes to make an example of a threat to his turf," said Triumph, crossing his arms. "We should've seen it coming. He likes taking the direct approach, but he's not a complete hothead. What happened next?"

Colin resumed the clip and the room watched as Lung spoke to the monkey-faced cape in Mandarin. He made a mental note to translate and add subtitles for record purposes.

"Okay, he's got serious balls on him. Even I've never done that in a fight," commented Assault, his lips twitching as he watched Wukong roll around in hysterical laughter. Even with the language barrier, he knew it was an insult. Naturally, Lung didn't seem to share the sentiment and started blasting.

"More property damage. Is that where Miss Militia is right now?"

Instead of replying, Colin stared at the footage, taking in every detail he could. The fire cleared with no sign of the cape…

…only for him to knock Lung backward in the blink of an eye.

"Okay, he's got some muscle," Battery said as she leaned forward. Sun Wukong then whipped out a staff from…somewhere and began to beat the tar out of one of Brockton Bay's most feared capes. "This isn't edited, right?"

"I ripped it straight from PHO, and the scans so far confirm it's raw footage," Colin replied. "I haven't taken anything more than a cursory glance yet."

The screen flared and shook again as Lung no doubt used his pyrokinesis even more. Colin winced as the focus was lost and with it further information. Yes, he knew he shouldn't rely on amateur video for intel but this was the best he had since the news broadcast. Fortunately, even through a blurry shaky-cam they could hear the roaring of fire and shouting.

"Uh, does this get better? Or did someone else film this?" asked Triumph.

"We're combing through PHO and social media for possible uploads. Until then, this is what we have."

The hero frowned and Colin found himself sympathizing; getting half-baked information like this was grating, but at least it was better than nothing. Image and audio enhancement should fix some of the problems.

Finally, the video seemed to clear up and show the monkey-man standing with his staff before Lung's growing form and fire all around him. He spoke again, to the same predictable result.

"He's nimble, I'll give him that," remarked Assault. "Did that fire even touch him?"

"Inconclusive for now, but I'll add it to our current intel." Mover 3. Brute also extends to fireproofing? The footage is too blurry to make out signs of damage. Doesn't seem to extend to his clothes. Civilian wear, though why a robe? Leaning into the monk aesthetic?

Then, Sun Wukong grabbed Lung by the neck and -

"What the fuck?" Battery collectively voiced for all of them. Even Colin had to make sure he didn't imagine it the first time. The staff grew to the height of a tree. Redwood? No, shorter, but the camera perspective shook him off. "Did he just-"

"Is he a Tinker?" Assault blinked, chewing on air.

"Unlikely. I haven't seen any evidence for Tinkertech. I've put him down as a Changer, though the specifics of the power are too muddled to make an accurate conclusion. Seeing this, I'll up his Brute rating."

The camera panned up, trailing up the length of the suddenly-tall staff…then fell. The owner picked it up, only to find empty air and the sound of ringing steel. Everyone stared at the empty screen with varying measures of disbelief, visible even through their masks. Even Colin, despite keeping his composure, tried very hard not to twitch. Lung was a tough cape, his power making drawn-out combat virtually impossible. He'd fought against Lung many times trying to prioritize quick capture, and it always ended the same way: both sides retreating.

But this?

Assault's eyes widened and he pointed at the screen. "Uh, since when can monkeys do that?"

"Monkeys climb things, so maybe it's related to that?" replied Battery, albeit weakly.

Director Piggot, who'd remained silent throughout the entire showing, finally spoke, her voice guarded and her stubby fingers tapping the table. "Armsmaster, are you absolutely positive this footage hasn't been doctored?"

"Positive," replied Colin with finality. "Ignoring editorial touch-ups, there's nothing to indicate this was a fabrication. It matches reports I've been hearing of sudden bright disturbances coming from that block."

"And no one here can tell me where they ended up?"

"PRT troops are conducting searches of the nearby area and the entire district. I'll spread the search area to the docks if need be. At the rate he was transforming, it would take a while before he cooled down. It'll be hard to miss him."

"And if he's still transformed?"

"Every hero and myself will be immediately notified and move to capture. With luck, he might be too wounded to resist. I have backups prepared for the worst-case scenario."

She nodded, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. The heroes glanced at her, though their eyes flickered to the screen.

"What kind of fallout are we looking at?" she asked, opening her eyes.

Triumph frowned and looked down at the table. "There's no way the E88 is gonna ignore this. The moment they look at what we just saw, they're gonna declare open season. Problem is, Kaiser knows we know that. He might order small incursions or a full-blown assault to grab as much turf as he can, or to weaken the ABB at least."

"Not just the Empire," commented Battery. "The minor gangs might try something, but I wouldn't count on it being as severe." She turned to Colin. "The problem here is how the low-rankers will act once they realize Lung is gone. Either they'll lay low if they're smart, or go wild with nothing to hold them back. And we don't know where Lee is?"

"Same situation as his leader," he replied, not that he liked the answer he was giving. "He might keep issuing orders from wherever he's hiding. And we don't know Lung's current condition."

"I never took Lee as anything more than an enforcer," said Triumph.

"To be fair, I don't think any of us pictured he'd have to be anything more than that."

Assault made a strong point, thought Colin. In the ABB, Lung was at the top, followed by everyone else. Lee was at the top of the ladder, but only due to his parahuman status and loyalty. The internal structure of the ABB was semi-organized, with gangbangers and collectors, but they all reported directly to Lung.

And now Lung was MIA.

A variant of a phrase he had trouble believing would come to pass.

Piggot stood up, drawing the attention of the entire room. "I want all PRT forces on high alert for Empire capes and Skidmark. All Protectorate Heroes are on full alert, from the look of things we'll be running damage control." She glanced in his direction. "I want updated patrol routes on my computer in thirty. Pair up Wards like before, they'll be assisting with rescue efforts. Expect engagement with enemy capes. Contact BBPD and tell them they should brace for a gang war."

Colin swiftly nodded and moved to leave, but then Assault raised his hand again. Piggot rolled her eyes. "This isn't a classroom, Assault. What is it?"

"I think we're forgetting the main reason we came here. You know, the monkey in the room?"

Battery cuffed him on the back of his head and he yelped. Piggot's eyes narrowed at the statement and she addressed him again. "Bring him up on the screen." With a tap, the unfocused image of the new cape, munching on his snack, appeared. The director eyed the picture for a minute, her beady eyes searching for some unknown clue before continuing. "Armsmaster, has no one yet made contact with this…Sun Wukong?"

He shook his head. "Negative. He hasn't been spotted on any patrols, and by the time social media catches wind of him, he's gone."

Piggot's jaw twitched and she gritted her teeth. "So you're telling me, that the cape who just made Lung - one of the biggest pains in our collective ass for years - look like a total idiot, is just…gone? I asked you to find him a week ago!"

Colin barely managed to hide his scowl. "He's evaded all our efforts, ma'am. Most of our resources went to trying to avert this exact confrontation."

"And look how that turned out?" she bit out. She inhaled again and Colin could see the blood pressure rising. While he still struggled with reading faces, the armored hero could imagine her thought process. They couldn't divert any more resources than necessary from the upcoming gang war. Containment was priority one, as much as it grated her and himself. If this Sun Wukong kept provoking other capes like he did Lung, there's no telling the kind of damage he'll leave in his wake. The footage basically confirmed that de-escalation was not in his thought process.

"We need him on our side, or at least show the public he's friendly with the PRT. That video will spread and people will know it's not us. The moment this mess calms down, I want to find him. Give him the full pitch, and make him come for power testing. This could be the biggest break we've had for this city, and we're not going to let it slip by us."

Colin nodded in full agreement. The PR implications alone were huge.

"What if he doesn't want to come?" asked Triumph. "What if he's just trying to replace Lung and this is all a stunt to get the Asian district to trust him?"

"If he refuses power testing, insist again and if he still refuses, then leave with an open invite," replied Colin. "That was the directive before and there's no need to change that, just make it more urgent."

The director hummed in approval and her eyes hardened. "If this really is a ploy…we'll need to prepare appropriate countermeasures. Do you have anything off the top?" She asked Colin.

"Nothing right now," he said, another dose of frustration seeping into his voice. "I'll need to gather a better measure of his powers and mindset. It might need to be a coordinated attack; so far we've seen he can take out multiple opponents, but when it comes to capes he's only fought them one-on-one. That could be a weakness to exploit…but I can't say with certainty. Not unless he actually challenges the Empire and they send out their capes to deal with him." Which was exactly what they hoped to avoid.

Piggot stayed silent and looked at the empty screen. The heroes all mulled over his words; even Assault was scratching his head with a small frown.

"I think we should focus on damage control for now," said Triumph. "That seems to be the more immediate concern. Not saying we should dismiss this, but like Armsmaster said, we shouldn't try anything before we know more. And Assault only posed the question as a what-if scenario."

"Part of the job is dealing with what-if scenarios, but you're right about the immediacy." Piggot rose and the rest did the same. "For now, you'll all patrol in shifts. Armsmaster has additional tasks, so he's exempt from this. One will patrol inside the district and two outside. The rest will follow Armsmaster's recommendations, and I'll have Miss Militia pitch in ideas. Let's try not to have the entire city collapse from under us, shall we?"

Assault chuckled even as his partner sent him a warning glance. They and Triumph left the room shortly, leaving only himself and Piggot. She watched them leave then turned to stare at the, quite frankly, bizarre frozen image.

"Who are we dealing with, Armsmaster?" she asked, frustration evident in her tone. "He makes a show of himself beating up those thugs, fights Glory Girl, then goes to town on Lung? And not showing himself in between?"

"A cape who's drunk on his own success, ma'am," Colin replied, his mind racing with implications. "But whether he was always intending to go after Lung or this was a domino reaction, I don't know. I'm more worried about what Kaiser will do once he decides to act against him."

"Or if Sun Wukong decides to act against Kaiser," she retorted gravely.

"There's nothing to suggest Wukong is aiming to attack the other gangs, Triumph is off the mark with that hypothesis. Other than the Glory Girl incident, he's stuck to the Asian district, even though he appears at random. Other than the food shenanigans, the civilians aren't sure what to think of him. For all his recklessness, he doesn't seem to provoke those reactions. He went after those ABB thugs because they threatened a civilian."

"A proper hero, is he?" she remarked and snorted. "I thought teenagers were the ones who acted immature."

He acted like a carefree teenager alright…but looking at the photo, Colin wasn't sure. He could be really leaning into the 'role' of his inspiration, what with the archaic speeches and words. Still, even if he was an adult, it didn't change anything, except sour his opinions. The idea of him being a Case-53 was starting to lose traction, thanks to his investigation and Glory Girl's limited testimony. He might have to ask her to retell it for clarity's sake, at least until they encounter Sun Wukong face-to-face.

Who would've thought a monkey could cause this much trouble?

Piggot gave him the side-eye "You can go now. Tinker whatever you need to prepare for this."

Without another word, Colin turned and left the meeting room. As he entered the elevator and pressed the button, he felt his frown finally grow.

Seeing Sun Wukong beat Lung with such apparent ease grated on him. He knew he should be above petty jealousy, and a part of him wanted to thank Wukong for the ease with which he'd dealt with the gang lord. But when a man tries for years to take down a monster like Lung, who'd committed almost every crime imaginable and even got away with killing independent heroes, it would be understandable that he would feel resentment when an unknown individual with little regard for the consequences of his actions does it in one fell swoop.

Years of effort - gone in a flash.

And people will know who to thank.

No, that wasn't the case yet. Lung was MIA, not captured. No one knew where he was. He could still find him and if the story was spun right, the PRT would come out looking spotless with his name as the victor.

The elevator stopped and he headed to his lab, mental plans of weapons and a new drug cocktail to deal with the gang lord starting to draw themselves. His halberd needed to be outfitted with that micro-thin tip he'd been building to penetrate Lung's scales and the cocktail imbued inside. A good dose should tranquilize twenty elephants in a few seconds, so it should work on Lung.

Regardless of whether he brought Lung to justice today, tomorrow, or even next week, Colin Wallis acknowledged one thing. One way or another, he would meet with Sun Wukong. If he kept acting out like that, he'd draw the other gangs into a bloodbath.

He just hoped this monkey-man was mature enough to see it.

Chapter Text

YES, IT IS I!

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Thanks to Ridtom and TrajectoryAgreement for beta reading!

Again they heard the monkey yelling, "Further still! Further still!" So Tripitaka and the others went still further until they had left the mountain. All at once came a crash so loud that it was as if the mountain was cracking and the earth splitting wide open; everyone was awestruck. The next moment the monkey was already in front of Tripitaka's horse; completely naked, he knelt down and cried, "Master, I'm out!" He bowed four times toward Tripitaka, and then, jumping up, he said to Boqin respectfully, "I thank Elder Brother for taking the trouble of escorting my master. I'm grateful also for your shaving the grass from my face."

When Tripitaka saw that the monkey was truly a person of good intentions, someone who truly resembled those who had embraced the Buddhist faith, he called to him, "Disciple, what is your surname?" "My surname is Sun," said the Monkey King. "Let me give you a religious name," said Tripitaka, "so that it will be convenient to address you." "This noble thought of the master is deeply appreciated," said the Monkey King, "but I already have a religious name. I'm called Sun Wukong." "It exactly fits the emphasis of our denomination," said Tripitaka, delighted. "But look at you, you look rather like a little dhūta. Let me give you a nickname and call you Pilgrim Sun. How's that?" "Good! Good!" said Wukong. So from then on, he was also called Pilgrim Sun.

-Journey to the West, chapter 14

Is this a dream?

To say Taylor Hebert's day was shitty was a bullseye. First, the whole of Winslow High was paranoid because the ABB and the E88 decided to have another fight, and it was sending anyone allied or identifying with each gang's views at each other's throats. Two fights had broken out by lunch - and not broken up - and the whole debacle might last until the end of the week. On top of that, she had to endure the usual torment of her eternal trio of bullies, led by her (former) childhood friend Emma. This time it was a heap of mud on her desk just before class, and Ms. Gladly had read her the riot act for damaging school property, all while Emma and Sophia's smug faces laughed at her silently from outside the classroom.

As if those desks weren't one kick away from ending up in the junkyard.

After hours of listening to droning, enduring more insults and whispers, and acting dead to the world, Taylor finally managed to escape her hell for the past year…and the bus almost came late.

Dark clouds, silver linings, right?

She was about to repeat her usual routine of heading home and collapsing on the bed - maybe doing some homework if she mustered the energy to care - when a bird chirped on the porch. Taylor didn't think anything of it, but something felt off the third time she tried to enter her house and the bird chirped again.

To think she actually tried to talk to it! Talking to a bird! Was she that desperate!?

To top it all off, the stupid bird flew into her house and wouldn't leave until she gave it some food! Which she didn't have because her Dad forgot to restock and he was away at an emergency Dockworkers' meeting, most likely because of the gang war. It looked happy with that bread chunk though, so that was a plus.

Just when she thought the day would end in peace…the street exploded.

Gunshots. Blood. Roars. And all she did was stand there.

Somehow she fled. Her foot slipped and she kissed the pavement. Tried to grab the fucking groceries like they even mattered but her Dad wouldn't be hungry -

Car horns. A sound she could never forget. How could she?

Helpless to move, she could only watch as they came closer and closer until they were rightinherfaceandsheddielikemomnadEmma-

But no pain came. She remained as it was instead of flying across the asphalt. She felt glass fly around her, the horrid screeching of the vehicle ripping her ears to shreds…but nothing hit her.

Someone was talking above her. Their - no, his - words were muddled but sharp. A ping came from next to her and that of all things snapped her to attention, and she looked up.

No way. It had to be a dream.

How else could she explain the sight of a talking monkey offering her a hand?

"...to ask this, but are you alright?"

She blinked, stammered silently, then shook her head. This was…she reached to adjust her glasses and - yep, there was still a talking monkey.

He tilted his head at her, his brownish fur swaying in a breeze she couldn't feel. His smile was full of sharp teeth, but strangely, it didn't seem mocking or hurtful, waiting to let loose a hail of taunts. Instead, it looked…almost tender. Reassuring.

When did she last see a smile like that?

Taylor finally found her voice, even if it sounded miles away. "I-I'm fine."

The monkey - he looked familiar for some reason - looked her up and down and chuckled. "No need to be so modest, my dear. You almost took quite the hit." He gestured with his clawed hand again and she tentatively reached out and grasped it. His palm was coarse, but he held her gently as he slowly pulled her up. When she almost made it, the ground gave way and -

"Easy now."

When did he grab her other hand?

He pulled her up fully and felt a few quick brushes along her back. "There, that's better now, isn't it?"

Taylor glanced to her side and felt her blood rush away from her face. That could've been her bleeding corpse right there, lying on the road. Dad would get a call, rush from work only to hear that his daughter ended up in a -

No. She couldn't think like that now. She was still alive.

Not like Mom. Not in a coffin.

"Y-yeah."

She turned to the monkey who kept grinning at her. She wet her lips and spoke again, her voice still jittery. "Th-thanks…for saving me. I didn't see the car coming and -"

"Now, now, no need to apologize. You were treated to quite the disorderly sight, all those ruffians going at each other like mad roosters in a cockfight; 'twas only natural that your body failed to heed your mind." He glanced at the smashed car and briefly frowned. "For all their convenience, these metal carts are hard to avoid. With all the ingenuity I've seen in this city, I thought they would have done something about that." He then shrugged. "Bah, no matter. You are safe and they are gone."

…

…

…

It must have been the shock of the blow because Taylor felt like her mind was swimming inside a whirlpool and a broken jacuzzi. Did he just call cars 'metal carts'?

At least it wasn't a dream. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Umm…ok?"

The monkey looked around before flashing another smile at her and looking down at her feet. "A pity for your errands though. Food is a terrible thing to waste."

"Food?" Taylor paused to try and make sense of his words and her eyes widened. "Oh shit, the groceries!"

Everything in the bag was spilled or destroyed. The few vegetables she bought were scattered around the car and the milk carton was crushed under the broken car's wheel. Taylor chided herself even as she gaped in dismay at the scene. It was just some groceries; that milk carton could've been her!

Another chuckle and a firm tug drew her away. "Yes, quite unfortunate, but a small price to pay in comparison, no?" The monkey pulled her to the sidewalk and into a nearby alley, a fair distance from the site. "The paths of karma are strange, but in the end, they can lead to great fortune. What greater fortune there can be than your own life?"

"If…if you say so."

She discreetly took his features in. Charred blue-and-white robes - undoubtedly Asian, but she couldn't place from where - bare clawed feet adorned with red…greaves - yes, that was the word - a long tail sticking out of his butt and she could've sworn there was a stick - no, a staff next to him. Where did it go?

More importantly, where had she seen him before?

"Um…I'm sorry if I'm being rude," especially since you saved me right now, she thought. "But I didn't really hear your name."

Her savior seemed startled before he quickly nodded. "Ah yes, I suppose my little speech was the last thing on your mind." He took a step back, clasped his hands together, and bowed. Wait, why was he bowing!?

"I am the great Sun Wukong, King of Flower-Fruit Mountain, and a humble traveler to this great city. Might this former pilgrim ask for the fair lady's name?"

Taylor blinked in surprise at hearing herself being called a 'lady'. She never felt like one.

"T-Taylor Hebert and you don't need to bow!" she hurriedly cried and waved her hands. "Y-you saved my life, not the other way around! Should I bow? Shake hands? Can I -"

Her mind froze when the name he gave finally settled in. "Did you say your name was…Sun Wukong?"

"Ah, so the name of this old traveler has reached your fair ears?"

That was…one way to put it. This was the cape that was all over the news! Even outside of PHO, he was all the city could talk about for the past few days, and his brazen challenge of Lung, which was still a proclamation she couldn't believe. The PRT has made numerous statements like that before, and they never got close to capturing him. Even Winslow wasn't exempt from the frenzy; she'd seen people try and organize bets on who was going to win. The last time she heard Greg Veder shout it in the halls, it sounded like a 50-50 chance, but maybe it was because of the novelty of a new cape. Punches were thrown of course, but she managed to steer clear of that.

Not only that…where else did she hear that name?

"Sort of. A lot of people are talking about you and what you said to Lung."

Sun Wukong - or was it just Wukong, because he was Asian, with the last name first? - snorted, looking somewhat amused. "The status your people give to the false long is woefully undeserved. In the end, a carp remains a carp if he leaps solely within his pond, much less a carp that hardly leaps. Swatting minnows with your fin is hardly an accomplishment." He placed his hands on his hips and puffed his chest. "But this Old Sun was glad to provide him instruction in the ways of modesty. I somewhat doubt the lesson has sunk in, even if his body did. Hm, did he ever manage to surface?"

Taylor, by that point, had recovered a good portion of her mental faculties and had understood the cape's words. But it took her a few moments for the actual meaning of what he was saying to sink in.

"You actually fought him!? Lung!?"

Wukong looked at her with a confused expression. "I have seen this reaction amongst you folk quite often whenever I bring that subject up. First my dear host and now you. His grip on your minds must have been greater than I anticipated."

Again, the words didn't register properly in Taylor's slowly panicking brain. She'd heard some of the Asian kids in school whispering about an 'epic-grade beatdown' that got released on PHO and 'ownage' and 'get wrecked, scrub!', but she didn't pay them any mind. There were dozens of cape fight videos on PHO, and while she saw the major highlights, she didn't think of logging in yesterday. She would have logged in today…no, she was going to do it the moment she returned home.

"Young Taylor? Are you alright? Did a piece of metal find its way to your soft little skull?"

If anyone asked, she did not yelp when she felt a finger pressing her cheek.

"Ah-no," she replied, closing her gaping jaw and trying to compose herself. "It's just…like you said, he has a reputation." Had. Did he really not know? Everyone in the city knew about the ABB and their monster of a leader.

'Wait, he said he was a traveler', she thought. 'Flower-Fruit Mountain? Never heard of a mountain like that. Is it one of those towns with really weird names?'

"Well, I hope the people of Brockton dream at peace. He shan't be bothering you in the meantime…unless he finds the last morsels of his pride, in which case I will gladly repeat the lesson."

"Oh…okay." A well-known wailing rang in her ears, one that everyone in Brockton was accustomed to. She peeked over Wukong's shoulder and her eyes widened again at the flash of red and blue.

Wukong also noticed, because he turned around and hummed. "I do not fancy a talk with the local city guard, and neither it seems, do you." He offered her his hand again and flashed a smile that, if it were on a normal face, might've been charming. It still was, but the whole monkey look he had kind of threw it off. "Would you allow this Old Sun to escort you home in case more ne'er-do-wells disturb the remainder of your evening?"

Taylor just looked at the hand with total confusion. Was he…was he really offering to escort her home?

Normally, she would listen to her father's insistent advice of not accepting offers from strangers to take a walk, doubly so when the chances of getting kidnapped or shanked in an alley were high enough for it not to be a creepypasta, yet…he saved her life. And he was a hero. Not a Protectorate Hero like Alexandria, and maybe a little dramatic, but still a hero.

Also, a small part of her, long dormant for years, was desperate for company.

"...sure."

The girl took his hand and he led her out of the alley and down the road. What few people that walked outside at this hour were now long gone. They walked at a leisurely pace, even if Taylor's heart beat like a machine gun when she heard the police cars come screeching behind her, but Wukong kept gently tugging her arm. It wasn't like the forceful and nasty jerks Emma and her cronies sometimes pulled; it was urgent, yes, but she could feel he was trying not to hurt her.

Once the crime scene was well behind them, the monkey cape decided to chime in.

"So, in the spirit of pleasant conversation, would you mind telling me about yourself?"

Taylor jerked up before looking away. "Um…there's not much to tell."

Wukong chuckled good-naturedly. "Come now, every person bears a story, no matter how small it may appear to them. Even the shortest scroll can contain great wisdom, and you seem like an intelligent lass." He gestured to himself with a flourishing wave. "Tell this Old Sun a chapter of your life."

She couldn't help but huff, though it came out as more of a snort. "There isn't much excitement or wisdom here, I'm pretty normal. I live with my Dad and I go to school." A school where everyone hates me and a Dad who's like a ghost.

"School? Ah, is your father a man of great riches? To afford his daughter an education is a true mark of love."

If she wasn't so thrown off by the first part of his reply, Taylor would've gone into hysterics. If Winslow was a school for wealthy people, then Arcadia was for multibillionaires. Or maybe it was wealthy in wannabe gangbangers and queen bitches, then it was practically Forbes' Top 10.

"N-no, it's a school. Everyone goes to school."

Wukong blinked and he looked at her with visible shock. Was it something she said?

"Everyone goes to school? Even the peasants?"

Taylor nodded, though it was more out of reflex and she felt her eyebrow twitch. Did he really call her a 'peasant'? Who the hell uses the word 'peasant' nowadays? A talking monkey, that's who. One's who's looking a little too invested in his cosplay.

"Then, that would mean…" his smile suddenly returned and he threw his head back, laughing merrily. "Oh, this is a delight! Old Sun, you have found a true treasure!"

As he kept laughing and clutching his robed chest, Taylor was left utterly bewildered. Yeah, she could think of more than a few kids in Winslow who honestly didn't deserve the efforts of the American education system, but this was a little too much, no?

"Uh, are you okay?"

Wukong's laughter died down and he propped himself back up, his fanged smile still present. "Pardon this one's humorous outburst, my lady; I recalled an acquaintance of mine, quite the old wooden plank, who would grow constipated at hearing your words. I find it a joy, education is paramount and essential for the young ones."

"Okay…" she trailed off, even as she blinked again at the 'my lady' comment. Where did he come from that the mention of a school seemed so funny? It was like that all over the world. And 'old wooden plank'? "Where did you say you were from again?"

"The Great Flower-Fruit Mountain, beyond the eastern sea and west of the land of Aolai." He rubbed his chin as he started walking again. "The land it resides near is called China in this tongue."

That…made some sense. Taylor didn't know a lot about the CUI, what with its isolationism and hostility to the US, but what little she'd heard didn't paint a nice picture. She almost asked how he came to Brockton but held her tongue. A journey like that couldn't have been easy. Still, an unusual name for a mountain, and she didn't know of a place in China called Aolai.

"But regardless, what else do you do?"

"...not much," she replied, looking away. What little hobbies she had seemed to have been whittled away this past year. "I had a flute once…it was my mother's."

Before they broke it.

Even as she chided herself for letting that slip, Wukong's eyes softened and his rasp grew smoother. "Ah, my condolences, dear child. How long?"

"...two years."

"Was she a musician?"

She blinked the incoming tears away and forced down the rising clouds of depression. "She played for fun, but she was an English Professor."

Wukong moved to ask something before his eyes widened again. "Ah, a scholar! Quite the achievement! You must be very proud."

A bitter smile came on Taylor's face, the memories ripping at her heart bit by bit. "Yeah, she was the best." She kept them together, Dad actually used to smile…but it all went downhill from the moment that damned call came.

"You share an interest in the scholarly world as well?"

"A little. I loved when she read to me." She didn't mind the questions, but the way he asked them was…old-fashioned. Taylor didn't think she'd hear that kind of talk outside of old movies.

The monkey tipped his head, still bearing that smile. "She has raised quite a daughter, to pass on and nurture her talents. Take pride in that."

Red finally came full force to Taylor's face and she averted her gaze. It wasn't flirting - she would've bolted the second he tried - but so genuine she couldn't help herself. 'Like some of Dad's coworkers at the Docks the times they came over. Ruffling my hair and laughing at whatever I did.'

Familiar houses soon came into view, and the police sirens were well behind them. She panicked at first at the thought of a neighbor spotting her and the monkey-man beside her, but no one seemed to be outside, and the faint lights streamed from shuttered windows. A draft flew down the street and Taylor pulled her hoodie tighter. Yeah, it didn't look like anyone wanted to be outside. Wukong didn't seem to react at all to the chill, instead, he kept looking around as he walked, smiling and chirping seemingly at random. It had to be all that fur. That robe wasn't in the best condition.

"This Old Sun apologizes if he is intruding, but I sense dark rainclouds hovering above your bright mind. I know that nasty encounter with those ruffians was far from your idea of a pleasant evening. Yet something else seems amiss. What seems to trouble you?"

Taylor winced at the polite yet nonetheless blunt question. Was she that obvious? Did she become so used to being invisible that she didn't think anyone would pay attention?

"It's…" The desire to just spill it out was there. To this total stranger, even if he saved her life. But what could he do when no one else noticed? In the end, she sighed and her shoulders slumped. "Life isn't great. Shitty even. Not since Mom died."

Wukong solemnly nodded at her words. She wanted to continue, but her vocal cords failed her. That was it. The root of all her problems, neatly summed up in a singular sentence.

Everything stemmed from that. Thanks to the frigging car crash that came rollingandscreamingdownandnoonecouldstop-

Taylor chewed on the inside of her cheek and shook her head. It all had to come and smack her in the face, didn't it?

When she didn't continue, the cape took up the proverbial mic. "A candle's absence is felt even in a room full of lights, for its flame made the room a little brighter. That pain surpasses the deadliest warrior's wound in its bite, for the soul cannot be mended as the flesh can." He met her eyes, and little of the joking monkey from before was there. Instead, there was wisdom in his visage, the kind she only saw in some of her dad's oldest friends. "Your father must have felt her loss most keenly."

A grimace passed over her features and a pang went through her heart. "...yeah, he did." One crowning understatement after another.

She expected him to add: 'It's good you have your father', or 'Have you tried talking to him' - advice she'd tried again and again - but to her surprise, Wukong said none of that.

"I'm sure her spirit would weep with joy at seeing her husband and daughter still alive and well. I have seen families torn apart and destroyed from far less."

Alive? Yes. Well? Not really, neither of them. She couldn't bring herself to refute him though, not after all he's done, so she just attempted a smile. Wukong returned the same, fangs poking from under his lips, but there was an odd…knowing…in his eyes. It sent a shiver down her spine, but she didn't let it show. He listened to her enough, there was no need to burden him further.

But why was he looking above her head? Was there a bug?

She shook herself to shoo whatever it was off, messing up her hair even more. Wukong tilted his head and scratched his chin again, clearly curious. What was it?

"Forgive me if this sounds unusual, but have you noticed any golden strands above the heads of your fellow townsfolk?"

It was her turn to look at him strangely, with a raised eyebrow even. "No…" she trailed off. What kind of a question was that? Golden strands? Was this a cape thing?

He seemed to chew her response for a moment before chuckling and dipping his head. "Apologies if this Old Sun's ramblings confuse you, my sight grows muddled at times. It must be all the smoke spewing from these houses that are harming my delicate pupils." He waved in front of his face. "A good bath should clean things up, I have yet to properly try the ones your people use."

…okay, that was a thing. There wasn't much smog in Brockton though.

Probably cape bullshit.

Taylor nodded and the two resumed walking. She pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed. This was turning out to be her most peculiar day of the past few years. She needed a drink…then a nap. Yes, a nice, long nap would be great. Cocoa or tea would also help…right, the groceries were somewhere between the sewers and the asphalt.

"Ah, have we arrived?"

Taylor stopped and took a moment to register his words. True enough, her house was right there, broken step and all. The lights were out, so Dad wasn't home yet. Thank goodness for that; the last thing she wanted to do today was explain to him why she looked so worn and a talking monkey was accompanying her.

She saw the monkey look it up and down and a flush of shame ran through her body. "Yeah, it's not much but…it's home." Full of memories and ghosts, but it was theirs.

"A gold nest or silver nest, none are better than one's home. A good hammer is what it needs and shall become a true wonder." He turned to her and bowed again. "It was a pleasure to have your company, my lady. I would offer you this token of our new friendship." Friendship?

Before Taylor could react, Wukong plucked a few hairs from his arm and blew on them. To her shock, they glowed gold before turning into a brush and a stone.

He held them out to her with both hands, as though he was offering tribute. "A fine brush and inkwell with stone, a worthy gift for any young and aspiring scholar."

Taylor blinked, freezing in place. The usage of his powers, while certainly bewildering, seemed minuscule compared to what he did with them. A gift for her? Why? She opened her mouth to try and refuse, there was no need for him to give her a gift - if anything she should be thanking him again - but she stopped when she saw his eager and welcoming smile.

Yeah, there was no way he was going to let her refuse.

She reached out and gingerly took the items from his waiting hands. She didn't know much about art, but they both looked exquisite. The brush's dark handle was smooth, the dark grooves adorning its length ghosting under her fingertips, ending with bristles that swelled at the hilt and gathered into a point at the tip. The well was polished and fit neatly into her open palm, ringed with swirled carvings, and divided into two: one half was sunken and oval-shaped, and in the other, smaller half was a rectangular pitch-black stone. Upon touching it, she realized the stone was removable.

For a whole minute, she didn't move from her spot. She shifted her gaze from the gifts to the monkey. Finally, she managed to utter a single word.

"Why?"

Why her?

His smile widened and his red eyes sparkled with amusement. "Do I need a reason?"

When she didn't answer, he pulled back his hands and bowed. "I would love to enjoy your company again, Taylor Hebert, but alas I must leave for now. I hope to meet again soon, you are quite a fascinating young lass."

No, she wasn't crying.

The brush was itchy, that's all.

"Thanks. I-I'd love to talk to you again."

He rose and turned around, his tail swaying in the faint breeze. She was about to do the same when he spoke one more time.

"Do not let the darkness of the world snuff out your light, young Taylor. If you can find the fire to light your spirit, then you will soar."

With those words, he bent his knees…and jumped high into the air, disappearing beyond the skyline.

What.

After standing there open-mouthed and feeling her eyes were going to pop through her glasses, Taylor finally managed to swallow and head to the door. She stared at the two gifts, and warmth bubbled in her gut and rose up her throat. For the first time in ages, she enjoyed talking to someone. She'd have to look up how to use these on the internet, no way was she going to let them lie in a drawer.

I could soar?

Taunts, pain, and misery haunted her life. Tomorrow, Emma was definitely going to do something that would further sink her into the mud. Dad would come home, and they'd talk and laugh at some joke, all while feeling hollow, yearning for a presence that would never come.

Who was she kidding?

This had to be a reprieve, and only a brief one.

It's almost funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

Chapter Text

YES, IT IS I! Who wants Monke!?

You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Thanks to Ridtom, starlit and TrajectoryAgreement for beta reading!

Soon after the drum and the bell had sounded, the Dragon Kings of the Three Oceans got the message and arrived promptly, all congregating in the outer courtyard. "Elder Brother," said Aoqin, "what emergency made you beat the drum and strike the bell?" "Good Brother," answered the old Dragon, "it's a long story! We have here a certain Heaven-born sage from the Flower-Fruit Mountain, who came here and claimed to be my near neighbor. He subsequently demanded a weapon; the steel fork I presented he deemed too small, and the halberd I offered too light. Finally he himself took that piece of rare, divine iron by which the depth of the Heavenly River was fixed and used it for mock combat. He is now sitting in the palace and also demanding some sort of battle dress. We have none of that here. So we sounded the drum and the bell to invite you all to come. If you happen to have some such outfit, please give it to him so that I can send him out of this door!"

When Aoqin heard this, he was outraged. "Let us brothers call our army together," he said, "and arrest him. What's wrong with that?" "Don't talk about arresting him!" the old Dragon said, "don't talk about arresting him! That piece of iron—a small stroke with it is deadly and a light tap is fatal! The slightest touch will crack the skin and a small rap will injure the muscles!" Aorun, the Dragon King of the Western Ocean, said, "Second elder brother should not raise his hand against him. Let us rather assemble an outfit for him and get him out of this place. We can then present a formal complaint to Heaven, and Heaven will send its own punishment."

"You are right," said Aoshun, the Dragon King of the Northern Ocean, "I have here a pair of cloud-treading shoes the color of lotus root." Aorun, the Dragon King of the Western Ocean said, "I brought along a cuirass of chain-mail made of yellow gold." "And I have a cap with erect phoenix plumes, made of red gold," said Aoqin, the Dragon King of the Southern Ocean. The old Dragon King was delighted and brought them into the Water-Crystal Palace to present the gifts. Wukong duly put on the gold cap, the gold cuirass, and cloud-treading shoes, and, wielding his compliant rod, he fought his way out in mock combat, yelling to the dragons, "Sorry to have bothered you!" The Dragon Kings of the Four Oceans were outraged, and they consulted together about filing a formal complaint, of which we make no mention here.

-Journey to the West, chapter 3

Sun Wukong was no stranger to discovery. In his centuries of living, he was treated to new sights every time he ventured forth from his beloved mountain. From the physical constructs of man and nature to the immaterial essence that composed knowledge, he treated every newfound revelation with the care it deserved. If it wasn't for this trait, he would've never found the woodcutter who led him to his first master, who bequeathed upon him a new realm of knowledge with the secrets of the Dao and immortality. His Great Journey reignited that spark of discovery, encountering new yaoguai and oddities while helping him further understand the realm upon which he walked. The Celestial Court might care little for the workings of mortals and espouse the greatness and perfection of the heavens, but his time among the Jade Emperor's courtiers had taught him something few knew, and even fewer were willing to acknowledge if they were aware:

Heaven was…boring.

It was stagnant, like a statue abandoned in an old temple. Everything was perfect and everyone had a role in maintaining a cosmic balance that, while important, left little room for anything else, including innovation. There was no need for new things or to improve old things, so why should they try? Venerable Laozi with his alchemy was one of the exceptions. The constellations and spirits he befriended were all kindly folk, but they were unable to grasp beyond the realm of the heavens. Parties, banquets, duels, decrees…it grew repetitive. Yes, he had many of those back with his sworn brothers and simian subjects on his mountain, but there was always an element of…freshness to them. Like eager and curious children, ready to take on the world.

The mortal world was ever-changing, and some might call it chaotic. At times, it was true, but chaos always birthed the most fascinating and original ideas. And nowhere did Wukong find himself more enamored with that fact than in the city of Brockton Bay.

A marvel a day. Discovering a new delight in this foreign and queer land every time he ventured from his gracious host's home—food, people, more food, machines, clothing, more food. Even the 'heroes', their sorceries, and the mysterious apparitions left him burning with thousandfold questions, despite the disturbing nature of the latter…which still warranted further investigation…but he digressed.

'Already the sun has risen, and I am positively enamored with this device!' he thought, feeling water cascading down his fur. He guided the 'nozzle' around his body, letting the jets of water spray him. Steam filled the room and floated above the pale curtain drawn around him. 'This 'shower' is such a convenience I don't know why I haven't seen it before!'

The Monkey King shook the nozzle over his head and giggled. 'Like a miniature rainstorm over my head or any other part of my body if I so wish!' He then grabbed his tail and generously sprayed the furry appendage. 'It beats constantly using buckets and hands to clean! Especially those tricky crevices that need additional washing…'

He snatched the blue bottle from the nearby stand and squirted the viscous liquid over his head. 'And this cleaning fluid works wonders! It lacks the scent of the leafy mixture my monkeys used to make, but it's so much more fun to play with!'

Vigorously scrubbing the liquid over his head and body, Wukong was sure he would make a funny sight to any who knew him, with his flattened fur mixed in white. 'The Handsome Monkey King, drenched in milk and smelling of flowers! All who behold him shall suffer an agonizing death by laughter!'

An idea crept into Wukong's head. He tilted his head back and swallowed the incoming torrent, letting it fill his mouth before gargling it down…mostly.

'Though I must note, there's something in the water that tastes odd,' he thought as he lowered his jaw and excess water flowed out like the raging Water Curtain. 'Hardly a suitable taste for drinking, it's too metallic. Water must be kept pure!'

He lifted his tail and was about to guide the spraying nozzle to a rather tricky spot when the scent of glorious dajiang drifted into his nostrils. 'Hmm…I might've missed a few more spots…but Peizhi-xiānshēng's food would be treason to miss!'

Giving his body one more spray-over until the white left his fur, Wukong turned the handle to shut the water off and pulled back the curtain. He looked at himself in the small mirror nearby and slicked back the fur from over his eyes, nodding with approval at his slicked-back mane. "Yes, quite the improvement! Were Master Tang here, he would lecture me about my vanity, but even a monkey like me must strive to look his best!"

He'd bathed in better waters before. The healing springs of Heaven replenished the soul and washed away all illnesses from the body. A single drop could free a man from all worries and rejuvenate an elder on death's door. None could compare in quality…but this?

This was…novel. And he'd oh so missed the sensation of novelty.

Grabbing the fluffy towel from the rack next to the mirror, he wiped himself until he was sure every drop of water had dried from his body. Once he felt satisfied his fur was nice and dry - disregarding the steam of course - he looked toward the door, where a chair sat to its left. Draped over the backrest were his robes, and when Wukong picked them up, he felt a frown creep up on him.

'Speaking of looking my best…I'm afraid my robes no longer reflect that truth.'

The robes weren't anything remarkable; a set of pilgrim's robes like many he had seen on the bodies of monks and travelers, but he hadn't worn one since his days with Master Subodhi. His monkey subjects and friends provided him with fine clothes, his dear friend Ao Guang gifted him his greaves, Golden Suozi Armor, and phoenix-tailed crown; and both Lady Guanyin and Master Tang helped him acquire new ones after his release. 500 years under a mountain did not do well for one's clothing or hygiene. He did not need spare clothing back then, and if required, he would go nude; he was still a monkey, and he had fur! Not like the pale, defenseless skin of mortals.

'I don't believe it would be polite in these circumstances, I'm afraid.' He examined the robes from top to bottom, passing over the burn marks on the sleeves and rubbing the fraying strings of the hems between his fingers. 'When did I even get these robes in the first place?'

He was sure his armor was on him before his slumber…so where did it go?

Talking. Finality.

Screaming.

Thunder.

Hands.

Stone.

…

…Wukong shook his head. 'No matter. It still does not change the unfortunate fact that the false lóng had the nerve to damage my only robe. That must be rectified at once!'

He quickly put on the robes and headed to the kitchen, where his dear and gracious friend was stirring a pot of…oooh, delicious dajiang!

"Ah, a warm soup brightens this Old Sun's morning, Peizhi-xiānshēng!" he exclaimed and hopped into his usual chair.

"Wha - oh, Wukong!" Peizhi turned to the Monkey King, clutching his ladle. The poor man must get a handle on his nerves. "D-did you finish with the shower?"

"I feel as though I have cycled through samsara into the realm of the bodhisattvas!" Wukong replied, leaning back and staring at the ceiling as utter contentment exuded from his stone body. "My list of your people's fascinating inventions is growing li by li! A new monkey has been born, and he sits before you!"

Peizhi raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Uhm…I'm glad you liked it?"

"I most certainly have! I shall endeavor to use this shower every day!" Wukong leaned forward and flashed his most charming grin. "Though your towel feels a bit dated, I must add. Is it normal for the hairs to fall out after you wipe yourself?"

The shopkeeper let out a chuckle as he poured a helping of soup into a bowl. "That's good, I try to keep a clean house, even if - wait." He froze with the bowl in hand, the ladle still dripping soup over it. "What did you say about the towel?"

"Well, I found some hard-to-reach spots that the water didn't dry off and I had to scrub them vigorously, and your towel performed a splendid job." Wukong hummed and scratched his chin. "Perhaps I might have been too eager in drying my fur. But that bottle of cleaning fluid worked wonders! Certainly better than the acacia leaves that old mandrill by the springs brewed! It even made funny squeaks when I squeezed it all the way!"

Well, there was already a hairless strip on the towel, so it was at the end of its life anyway.

Hm, why was his friend's eye twitching like that?

"Did you say something?" he asked. What did dollars have anything to do with his shower? Wasn't that their currency?

Peizhi jerked up, spilling droplets of their precious breakfast onto the floor. "N-no! Just…it's nothing. Enjoy your breakfast!"

He quickly slid the bowl over to Wukong and poured himself one. A moment later, Wukong was happily slurping down the soup. His host wasn't as invigorated, instead taking small spoonfuls and sipping them measuredly. His eyes darted to the door with every sip; for shame, he should enjoy the salivating fruits of his morning labor!

"Well…what are you doing today? Will you go out to explore the city again?"

Finding the last slurp of his bowl, Wukong moved to answer when he caught sight of his sleeves. It had fortunately not bathed itself in the delicious dajiang soup, but…well, better not to delay it.

"'Twas my plan when I awoke, but there is actually a matter in which I would require your assistance, Peizhi-xiānshēng. I would not disturb the tranquility of your humble establishment, but fate has ordained that I act, and I must seek your advice."

Peizhi blinked. He gently placed his spoon into his half-empty bowl and drummed his fingers on the table's edge. The poor fellow needs to get out of his shop more, he looks so pale! "Eh…what exactly do you need help with?"

"I am afraid the màopáihuò left a severe mark on my body that I have neglected, and now I can no longer ignore its effects."

His host's eyes widened and concern began to mar his face. "What do you mean? Where did he hurt you?"

Wukong took a deep breath…and lifted his arm high, showing off the char-ridden sleeve. "That dreadful ruffian had the nerve to dirty my robe! Not only that, but the sheer rudeness he displayed in my lessons frayed it apart! At this rate, this Old Sun fears he will be left wearing scraps!"

…

…

"…he burnt your robe? That's the severe mark?"

"Unfortunately so. Right after I grew attached to it! Good robes aren't easy to find, no matter what the monks say!"

'Yes! There's the twitch! Does Peizhi-xiānshēng have an illness that damages his eyes? Oh dear, it might take me a while to brew the proper remedy…'

Peizhi then shook his head and mumbled further. Before Wukong could inquire further, his friend's eyes returned to normal, and he trailed the length of the sleeve. "Is it just the sleeve?"

"The false lóng left his vile flame all over. And I wouldn't be wrong to assume that a good scrub would further exacerbate the damage, correct?"

"Can you show me?"

Wukong hopped on the chair and tugged the charred ends of the robe. The once-vivid blue had begun to fade into a dull gray, and the white was dotted with small patches of black. "Just look at this! This is no way for a monkey to properly dress!"

Peizhi looked Wukong up and down and a weak grimace overcame him. "I mean…it's not that bad…but yeah, it doesn't look like a wash and dry will fix it."

The Monkey King exhaled loudly. "I feared this, yet I dared hold onto hope." He hopped back into his chair and clapped his hands with a chipper smile. "Then would you mind telling this Old Sun where might acquire new robes? For all my talents and skills, I am no tailor."

Peizhi rubbed the back of his head and scrunched his brow. "I mean…I have some spare clothes, but I don't know if they'll fit."

Wukong studied his host's clothing. A faded brown blue shirt with a folded collar, with tiny buttons lined below the neck. Peering under the table, he saw his pants were of a hard black and lined with peculiar stitching, held at the waist by a belt with a metal clasp.

…no. 'Twould be amusing, but…wrong.

"I would not wish to further impede upon your hospitality, my friend. Though I am sure your clothes are worthy of kings, I do not think they will properly accommodate my handsome self. Nor do they have any room for my precious tail to stick out!"

Wukong's tail waved in the air and Peizhi followed it. "Ah, right, the tail. Yeah, I don't think cutting open a hole will do." He hummed and glanced outside before a spark of revelation glimmered within his eyes. Wukong looked on with curiosity as Peizhi bit his lip and sighed.

"I…might know someone who can help you. She's an old soul around this neighborhood, and she owns a tailor shop not far from here."

Wukong perked up. "Oh? The local seamstress? Capital! Tell me where she is and I'll be on my way!"

Peizhi quickly turned to him and stammered. "Um…I think it's best if I took you to her."

"Why is that?"

The shopkeeper paused, and his face made a remarkable impression of a hall of asuras before returning to its previous state. "Well…she might not…react well to just you coming in. Parahumans tend to put off people, especially when they're…" he gestured at Wukong wordlessly.

What could he possibly be -

"Ah, you are afraid she might be awestruck by my presence!" Wukong nodded and gestured at himself. That shower did wonders for his body, so he felt he was allowed some measure of vanity. "I do tend to have that effect on mortals. Very well, lead on!"

"Uh, good! That's good…" Peizhi nodded, though he still looked unsure. "Just…can you stay out of sight until we get there?"

"Hm? Oh, our deal. I'd wish you would have a little more faith in my circle, but it would be troublesome for your daily life if those ruffians seek to avenge their shamed master." Wukong rose and cricked his neck. He smirked at the hint of curiosity flickering within Peizhi's eyes. "Ease your worried mind, for discretion is an art this Old Sun has long mastered!"

Leaping into the air, a puff of smoke enveloped Wukong…and a tiny cicada flew out.

"What the f- Where did you go!?" Peizhi asked as he looked around for any sign of the Monkey King. Wukong giggled inwardly; that never got old! He flew until he was right in front of Peizhi and circled his face three times before coming to a stop. The shopkeeper followed the insect with visible confusion before realization settled. He slowly stepped back and raised a shaking finger.

"Are…did you just…?"

Wukong responded by looping in the air. Peizhi's mouth opened and closed until he forced it shut and his hands fell limp by his sides. "Huh…"

Wukong's internal giggle threatened to roll over into laughter. Seeing mortals react to transforming guai, much less his 72 Transformations, always brought levity to his day.

Peizhi pinched his nose and took another deep breath. "Okay, okay…not now, deal with it later." He opened his eyes and raised a finger, albeit with hesitation, and gestured for him to follow. Wukong did just that and followed his friend down the stairs and watched him put on his puffy jacket. For such material to keep one warm without fur…he wondered if the seamstress sold similar cloth.

Landing gently on Peizhi's shoulder, Wukong buzzed as the shopkeeper headed out the door and turned over the 'open' sign to 'closed'. 'I haven't seen many people come to his establishment…the life of a merchant can be fraught with risk, especially in a district filled with hoodlums.'

They walked together in silence, the monkey-turned-cicada observing the streets and Peizhi looking ahead, though occasionally his eyes flickered to the bug on his shoulder, with him muttering unintelligible words each time. People were out in their colorful clothes, manning their shops and doing whatever it was their daily life constituted of. Peizhi gave the occasional nod and greeting, but otherwise, his hands were tucked in his coat pocket as he walked with great strides. One thing that stood out to Wukong, though he didn't notice it at first, was that the…tension, if that was the correct word…from days before, seemed to have lessened. Not gone, as evidenced by the hunched backs and darting eyes, but some people's gaits were…less wound. As if ice was no longer forming under their feet.

If Wukong was a gambling monkey, he wouldn't have taken the bet as to the reason.

After several minutes - the lesser divisions of hours, as Wukong learned - of traversing the worn grey-stone streets, Peizhi finally came to a halt and Wukong snapped out of his musings. Before them was a closed door, twice as wide as Peizhi's girth, embedded with a window flanked by two wooden pillars. Above the door hung a sign with red han characters over a field of white, reading as 秀英裁缝店. Below it was written in the Yingwen script but smaller, Xiuying's Tailor Shop.

Peizhi took a deep breath and opened the door. A lone bell rang in welcome, and Sun Wukong was treated to the sight of countless folded garments arranged in neat piles upon rows of polished wooden shelves. Color exuded from every corner and cranny, even when bathed by the yellow glare of the bulbs, under which stray specks of dust danced to the tune of spinning fans. Five mannequins stood between the shelves, each garbed in a different manner of clothing, from an ensemble resembling his dear host's to a low-collar black overshirt with a red ribbon fastened in a peculiar manner around the neck. There was even a dark jade hanfu with pale-white linings!

'The vibrancy, the passion! Amitabha, how long has it been since I was treated to such a shop?'

Past the shelves stood a great lacquered desk, topped with spools, paper sheets, and cloth pieces. At the center was an odd metal device, shaped like an upside-down foot with a long needle almost touching the desktop. A rustling came from underneath the desk, and a weathered voice called out in their shared native tongue.

"Just give me a moment -ah! There it is, I knew I put it next to the cotton…"

A suntanned woman rose while scratching her cheek. Her dark yet greying hair was tied in a neat bun at the back of her head while strands framed her not-too-wrinkled face. The red overshirt she wore was woolen and dyed crimson. Her hand, which held a spool of orange thread, was marked with faint cuts and calluses that told years of practicing her craft. When she turned from inspecting the spool, her eyes widened and she quickly put the tool away.

"Ah, Xiao Peizhi! How long has it been? Come come, let Su Xiuying have a look at you!" She exclaimed and gestured to him with an open palm.

Peizhi smiled and bowed to the woman. "It's good to see you, Su-jie. Sorry I haven't been around."

He approached the desk and Xiuying grasped his chin, turning his head side-to-side with an appraising glint. "There's less fat in your cheeks. I'd say you've been taking care of yourself, but I'll bet my poor nainai's crockpot you've been holed up in your store and munching on those half-cooked meals instead. And your skin! If I was any older, I would've mistaken it for makeup! I told your father, ancestors preserve him, to open a window to the harbor but no, too expensive he said, and now look at what's become of his son! Pale as a sheet!" She fingered the lapels of his shirt sticking out from the coat. "That poor shirt! Ài ya, I gave you this for your twenty-eighth birthday, and you've treated her as such! The thread's an inch away from a cat ripping it and the whole shirt off! I've half a mind to kick your sorry excuse of a behind out of here!"

'Ooh, a fiery one!' Wukong thought with an inner grin. 'This ought to be amusing.'

If Wukong was expecting his host to fluster at the tailor's chastisement, he was sorely mistaken. Instead, only a light flush dusted his cheeks and his smile never wavered. "I've been doing just fine, Su-jie. It's just been hard to go outside with all the recent troubles."

Xiuying scoffed and released his shirt, though Wukong could see her jaw tense. "Bah, there's always trouble around here; that's no excuse to not look after yourself. Your father always exercised in the morning, right before he got to business, you should follow his example." She crossed her arms and sat down on a white stool. "So, what can I help you with?"

"Hmm, about that…" Peizhi quickly glanced at the door and continued with a whisper. "Is there someplace private we can talk?"

The old seamstress quirked an eyebrow.

"I'd rather tell you where people won't barge in, it's important."

She hummed before her brown eyes narrowed in the same direction. She then hopped from her stool and ventured to a space near the counter, and Peizhi followed. They entered a narrow space with boxes stuffed with fabrics to the left and a pull-back black curtain hung by brass rings on a pole to the right.

"Alright, Xiao Peizhi, what's this all about? Did you finally land a nice girl and are looking for a nice suit for a date?" She quickly shook her head. "Nah, Yamato would've told me about it and I would've prepared your measurements."

The shopkeeper almost averted his gaze, but he steeled himself and took a deep breath. "You know how Lung was defeated a couple of days back?"

Xiuying didn't reply with words; her flattened lips told them everything, ranging from 'Yes, are you stupid or did your father drop you as a baby?' to 'Good riddance to that walking rubbish.' Wukong had seen many a stare like that in the Court, and this seamstress was proving to be a master of it.

"Well, I've…" he tried to form the right words, but only silence escaped his lips. In the end, he sighed and raised his hands. "Do you promise not to freak out?"

"Young man, I've kicked the ABB from my store with this slipper," she gestured to her left foot, where a cream slipper was worn over a woolen sock. "And a needle. Whatever's going on in that addled head of yours, it won't be enough to scare me. Why are you involved in that nasty business anyway?"

'Showtime!'

Peizhi looked hard at her before nodding and gesturing to his shoulder. Xiuying tilted her head as the cicada rose and flew into the space behind her…

…and leaping from a cloud of smoke, vaulted the Monkey King.

"Lao tian!" the seamstress stumbled back until she collided with the boxes behind her, clutching at the wall. Wukong smiled and moved past Peizhi before bowing similarly to her as his host did.

"A most blessed day to you, seamstress!"

Xiuying stared at the monkey with eyes the size of dinner plates. She briefly glared at Peizhi, who actually seemed to be embarrassed this time. She didn't move for a minute, then shuddered and slowly pulled herself up, her eyes never leaving Wukong's bowed form.

"Hello…" she said cautiously before directing the glare of a thousand suns at his host. "Peizhi…explain. Now."

He swallowed and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, a little more than a week ago I…found him in my shop. He said he was a traveler and that he needed a place to stay and I…kind of accepted. He's been sleeping in my apartment ever since. I didn't know he was going to do everything he did in the news, I swear!"

Xiuying's face morphed into incredulity, and she slowly turned to Wukong. "Is this true?" she asked, her voice just as stern and her fingers trembling.

"Pray, spare my dear host your admonishment, noble seamstress. This Old Sun was captivated by Peizhi-xiānshēng's cooking and found he could not resist! I assure you, whatever exploits you have heard of me, I shall not allow the karma of my actions to harm him." Wukong replied, still bowing. Taking a good long look at him, Xiuying finally nodded, and the Monkey King stood upright.

"This is Su Xiuying. She's the tailor for most of the district, other than old Yamato and Tang Fu. My father and I used to buy all our clothes here," Peizhi said. He gestured to the monkey. "Su-jie, this is Sun Wukong. He's…you know." He said nothing else and Wukong agreed. What else could he say that she hadn't seen and heard?

Xiuying hesitated for a moment before steeling herself. She slowly approached Wukong and looked him right in his red eyes. There was still caution in her gaze, but she raised her hand and cupped the air next to his cheek. Her gaze trailed along his body until she returned to his face. "So, Sun Wukong, you beat the crap out of the big man of the ABB, eh? I have to say, I didn't think you were an actual monkey. Thought it was a really good costume; I would've loved to talk to whoever did the outfit." She crossed her arms again and took a step back. "Why are you here?"

Wukong dipped his head. "I am in need of your services, good seamstress."

"My services?" she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.

"My fight with your Lung, while ending in my triumph, has left irreparable scars on my robe," he replied and gestured at the charred garment. "When I asked where I might procure a new one, Peizhi-xiānshēng extolled your virtues and guided me to your most magnificent store."

The seamstress squinted. "Guided…you can turn into a bug? I saw you flying from his shoulder."

"A useful trick I mastered many years ago." Among many other forms. The swallow came a close second as his favorite.

Xiuying turned to Peizhi with a wordless question, and he shrugged. "That's pretty much what happened."

The seamstress nodded and started to pace around the monkey, closely examining his robe, occasionally rubbing it with a well-trained finger. "Silk…camel wool…Qinghai province…good make…" she reached a burn mark and frowned. "Considering who you were fighting, I'm surprised this wasn't burnt to a total crisp. You say you want to buy a new robe?"

"Yes," replied Wukong and waved his arm. "Though if you can spare this robe the fate of an ignoble end, I would be most grateful."

Xiuying stepped back and hummed. "Can't make any promises regarding this one, the best I can do is patch up the burnt parts. I never made something for a monkey-man, even if your proportions seem more or less like a normal person's…but what exactly are you looking for?"

"Something similar to this one or the hanfu draped over that doll."

"Old-fashioned type, eh?" She sighed and glanced at her stocked shelves and at the hanfu. "Well, other than the hanfu I don't have anything that fits the style. It's not really meant for everyday wear, I made it as an experiment." She then returned her gaze to Wukong and touched her chin. "But…I might be able to make you a new robe."

"A commission then?" Wukong asked and shrugged. "I see no problem with it. How much will it cost?"

"Hmm…a job like this? I'd say around…" she chewed her lip. "One thousand dollars."

Peizhi squawked at the mention of the price, and Wukong hummed. It didn't sound cheap.

"I'm guessing you're not footing the bill, eh?" Xiuying asked his host, who stammered incoherently. "Sorry, but that's after the discount I'm giving you. Making a robe like that isn't easy."

"We were implying no such thing," replied Wukong. "To craft art, time and dedication are needed, and the works I see here are indeed art."

She chortled. "Flattery won't lower the price."

Peizhi looked back and forth between them in distress, desperately trying to say something to soothe the matter. 'Such dedication is admirable, my friend, but unwholly necessary at this time.'

Wukong flexed his fingers and reached inside his robe. He fumbled there for a beat before he smiled and pulled out a small pile of the Meiguo paper currency. Xiuying's and Peizhi's eyes goggled at the sight of the money and turned as one to Wukong with dumbfounded expressions.

"I trust this will suffice?"

While tentatively at first, Xiuying took the bills from Wukong's hands. As she rifled through them, Peizhi hissed in his ear. "Where the hell did you get that money?"

"Hm? Oh, a few of the ruffians had them in their pockets. I'd seen people use this paper as payment, so I thought I might liberate some of their spoils for more proper means than ruining helpless lives. A grain of rice from the enemy is worth twenty of yours, after all."

Peizhi did another impression, this time of a fish flopping on the riverbank, while Xiuying finished counting and bit her lip. Then, she took a few bills and handed them to Wukong.

"I don't know if that's illegal…but I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that last bit." She pocketed the money and put her hands on her hips. "Okay, I'm game. Consider it thanks for knocking that monster down a peg. Just a couple of things to ask. One, are you going to fight in what I make you?"

Wukong paused for a moment and raised his finger, but she quickly cut him off. "Never mind, you parahuman types always end up scrapping with each other. I'm concerned that whatever I make you won't last very long."

"Leave that to me," Wukong replied reassuringly. "I have means to ensure the cloth won't be damaged easily." He plucked a hair from his head, blew on it, and handed it to her. "Weave this into the robe and it will grant the garment a measure of protection."

Xiuying took the hair, an unsure look crossing her face. Seeing her doubt, Wukong bowed again. "I swear by the four cardinal winds I am not deceiving you, wise seamstress!"

"...very well." She tucked the hair into her pocket but kept looking at him skeptically. "Did you have a design in mind? I like to get a vibe of what my customers want. I won't put in anything that makes me look bad or stupid, so no tacky logos."

While he had no idea what kind of emblem would be considered 'tacky', Wukong stroked his mane and nodded. "I do have several ideas now that you mention it. I hope they will satisfy your requirements."

Xiuying nodded and went to her desk, where she pulled out a thick notebook, bursting at the seams. She pulled out from under the desk a pair of glasses, much like the ones young Taylor wore, and placed them upon her nose. "Let's hear it."

Wukong hopped over to her, an eager smile on his simian face. "I would like to mention that the final result must have room for my gorgeous tail," he said and pulled the appendage from behind his robe's folds. "It can't stand being suffocated!"

"Ah…you have a tail…" Xiuying dazedly stared at the tail before shaking her head. "Okay, I should've expected something weird but…" she stared at his robes - more specifically, where the tail was sticking out. "I think that can work."

And so Wukong and Xiuying sat down and discussed what his future robe should look like. It took some talking on the monkey's part, but the unseen tension burdening the seamstress slowly dissipated. She sketched in her notebook and they argued back and forth on designs, and Wukong could feel a semblance of enjoyment rising from her.

"You'll freeze to death without the right padding and the robe will snag on practically anything that touches it!"

"Pah, rain and cold matter little to me! Though I am amenable to shortening the sleeves, but only by a finger's length!"

She occasionally pulled out a yellow tape and tied it around him; one time she even strangled his poor tail!

'"All part of the process," she says. Have mercy on this poor monkey!'

Eventually, Xiuying told him to feel samples of the fabric he'd like to use. Wukong chuckled as he felt the smooth black silk under his fingers, but kept in mind his claws. Xiuying looked a breath away from slapping his hand.

"You possess fine silk, seamstress Xiuying," Wukong commented. "Your name must be of high renown if the merchants traverse the ocean to supply you. Such a journey down the Silk Road is not for the faint of heart."

The woman stared at him as though he was speaking riddles. "...it takes me a month to get a new shipment."

Wukong's head jerked up and astonishment filled his features. "A month? Surely you jest!"

Xiuying turned to Peizhi who quickly scrambled from his idle staring, waving his hands. "Wh-what Wukong means to say is that he comes from one of the rural villages in China! They didn't get much trade there from…you know why."

No, he did not. Was something amiss? Never mind that; a mere month to acquire silk? How far have these mortals mastered transport, to ferry such expensive wares!?

"...right. That does explain it," she replied after nodding to Peizhi. She then looked at her notebook and muttered some more before addressing him.

"I was honestly expecting something a little more outrageous but this…this is doable." She closed the book with a loud slap. "I'll get started the moment my other two orders are freed up. Xiao-Peizhi, I assume I'll be contacting you for this?"

"Yeah…Wukong doesn't have a cellphone."

"Ah yes, the talking boxes!" Wukong chimed in as he kept feeling the silk. "I have yet to acquire one, but I do not yet see it as pressing an issue as my robe."

"...talking boxes?" she muttered, then shook her head at Peizhi's gestures. Why was he pointing at him? "Okay. I'll let you know when it's done. Now shoo! I'm a busy woman! Xiao-Peizhi, you should leave that cave of yours and breathe in the fresh air! All that sitting around is making your bones floppy!"

Peizhi rubbed his head again as she waved them off. "Eh, I'll try to, Su-jie."

Her comment drew Wukong to the door and he scratched his chin. That was an idea…

"Hmph, we'll see. As for you…" she pointed at Wukong, faltering for a moment as she scrunched up her face. "I hope you know what you're doing, getting yourself involved in this mess of a city. The ones who only think they do end up as more pictures on their family's shrine."

Wukong gasped with a hand on his chest. "You wound me, dear seamstress! This Old Sun is always a cautious monkey! And if the situation deteriorates, then I am a master at improvising!"

She gave him a stare so flat it would have leveled mountains. Eventually, she sighed and went under the table. "Cosplayers…"

"What is a cosplayer?"

"Ah, nothing! Nothing!" Peizhi exclaimed hurriedly, shooting the desk a withering glare. "I think we should leave, no need to disturb Su-jie while she's working!"

…fair point. Wukong bowed again, hands clasped before him. "May the spirits bless your hands and craft, Lady Xiuying! I eagerly await your craftsmanship!"

"Yes, yes, you're welcome," she shouted back. "Now leave!"

Wukong and Peizhi exited the store to an empty street and the shopkeeper sighed in relief. Wukong, for his part, inhaled deeply and smiled at the sunny sky. "A most industrious morning my friend, wouldn't you agree?"

"Three thousand dollars…" Peizhi nodded, his voice farther than Thunderclap Monastery. Was he taken aback by her wit as he was?

"How well did she know your father, if I may ask?"

"My father…?" Peizhi blinked and cleared his throat. "Oh, quite well. He asked her for help in designing parts of the store. It's not clothing, but she has a good eye for detail. From then on, he always went clothes shopping at her place. Once I got old enough she became like the family tailor. I haven't bought anything from her in a while, didn't see the need."

"And how did she come to this fair city?"

Peizhi hummed and scrunched his brow in thought. "She was here before baba, but that's all I know. She knows a lot of the old traditions, so I don't think she was born here…I haven't asked."

"A woman of mystery as well! I thank you for this opportunity, my friend!" Wukong giggled. "But I've had my fill of the indoors for now, so I must bid you farewell for the day."

Before Peizhi could utter another word, Wukong jumped high to the rooftops. He leapt from building to building, humming a nameless tune. This Su Xiuying was quite the snappy speaker! He should endeavor to visit her more often; his host was a kind man, but at times, he seemed too timid. It would be good to sharpen his wit on targets other than bandits. Those were a one-and-done deal, unsuited for verbal sparring.

He surveyed the skyline and enjoyed the sights until he spotted a familiar tree against a small patch of green. Quickly pivoting his random route, he perched on a rooftop overlooking the park and, to his delight, a group of little ones were playing with an orange ball.

Lo and behold, who were those two black-haired cubs scampering through the grass?

'I keep running into interesting children as of late,' Wukong thought with amusement, the image of a waif of a girl with frizzy hair flashing before his mind's eye. 'Hmm…perhaps a gait of silliness is a welcome change from all this serious business.' The obvious parents of the group sat idly chatting on a wooden bench, even as they maintained vigil over their children. Wukong hummed in approval; all mothers should watch their cubs before they leave their den, and woe be unto the one who forgets!

'Maybe a touch of finesse is in order?' He thought, then nodded to himself. 'Yes, a very light touch.'

Wukong jumped from the roof and right to the edge of the park. The children stopped their play and turned to him in shock, and from their shared seat, panic started to overcome their parents' faces -

"Wukong! Wukong!"

The monkey in question grinned at the excited voice of the boy running his way. "Ah, young Thao! What a pleasure to see you here on this glorious day!"

Thao stopped before him and beamed, strands sticking from his combed head. "Did you really fight Lung!? Did your clothes get burned because of him!? Suzaku from school showed me this cool video his brother showed him. There was fire, and you grabbed him and hit him again and again-" The rest was lost amidst a storm of chattering and miming.

"Haha! Calm down, young warrior! You are confusing this Old Sun with your enthusiasm!" Wukong exclaimed joyfully.

"Er-um, sorry?" Thao asked, rubbing his arm as he blushed.

"Oh do not be, I am glad to hear word of my deed has spread!" He glanced at the other three children, who were standing there wide-eyed. "And who might these fine companions of yours be?"

Thao looked behind him and pointed at the girl Wukong had saved not long ago. "That's my sister Mei, you know her!"

The twin-tailed girl shyly walked up to her brother. "H-hello, Mister Wukong. It's nice to meet you again."

Wukong crouched down and dipped his head. "How could I forget such a blossoming flower? May the Celestials strike me down if my memory fails me so shamefully!" Mei giggled at his compliment and turned to the two new children.

"It's okay, Wukong's a hero, he saved me," Mei coaxed them. The first one to step forward was a girl around Mei's age, if a little older, with long black hair crowned with a pink bow. Her shirt, tucked beneath a black jacket, had the emblem of a white cat with cute little eyes.

"Did you really beat Lung, like everyone's been saying?" she whispered.

"Indeed I have. For now, the false long shall not trouble you, and your days of playing with each other unmolested are as sure as the rising sun." Wukong tilted his head at her. "And what might be your name, fair maiden?"

"Um, I have two names," she replied while playing with her fingers. "My name is Lily, but my family calls me Bǎihé."

"Two names? Ah yes, one must learn to address their peers properly." However, he did wonder why the two names were simple translations of each other. Also, she looked too young to have a courtesy name…must be a new custom his mortal countrymen adopted. Oh well.

"What about Oni Lee?" asked the other child, a lad bearing messy black hair and wide eyes. "I heard my dad say no one's caught him yet, not even the heroes. What if he comes back? I'm Rin, hi. Thao sits next to me at school."

"The yaksha you name Lee would do well to learn from his master's defeat, ere this Old Sun give him a good whacking!" He pumped his fist in the air and the children burst into giggles. Flashing a grin at them, Wukong saw the parents on the bench maintain their vigilance and narrowed eyes, but the nervousness they sported moments earlier had slightly abated.

Wukong bowed his head at them while taking a knee. "It warms my stone heart to see a group of fine friends as yours. What game were you playing, if I may ask?"

The group stared at each other before Thao replied. "We played soccer, but then Bǎihé said she was getting tired. We then just kinda passed the ball around until you showed up."

"Soccer?" Wukong asked, relishing the novelty of a new name. "How does one play?"

"You see those two rocks?" Thao pointed to the twin stones sticking out of the grass. "We have to kick the ball between them while someone tries to block us. My mom calls it football, but -"

"It isn't football!" Rin whined. "It's soccer! Suzaku said football is where you run into each other and the ball looks like a nut!"

"But you don't even kick the ball!" Thao whined. "Why is it football?"

Rin opened his mouth to retort, showing his little canines, but Mei interjected. "Didn't you argue about this already?"

"Mei told me Mrs. Hamilton made you apologize to the class for being so noisy," Bǎihé said, a smile flickering across her face. The boys' faces grew ripe, and the red only further intensified when Wukong chuckled.

"It sounds like an exciting game!" Running into each other sounded much more fun, but he didn't think the children's parents would appreciate it if he tried something of that nature. "Can I play?"

They froze and stared at him, confusion and shock alike glowing from their bodies.

"Uh, you wanna play soccer with us?" asked Mei.

"Of course! I love playing games!"

"R-really? Don't you have…hero stuff…to do?" Bǎihé pointed out.

"I did that yesterday, and I'm sure the fine heroes of this city can cover any stray ruffians that crawl out of their hole. Do these heroes ever play with you children?"

"N-no," replied Thao. "We had a hero come and talk at school, but he didn't stay for very long. He was…" The boy's cheeks puffed up as he tried to recall the name. "He had a red mask, and there was this really funny joke he told us-"

"Assault!" Rin exclaimed. "Yeah, he's part of the Pro…Protec…Pro-tec-to-rate!"

Wukong humphed with amusement. "Well, unlike them, I always have time to play. How about I will serve as the blocker while you all try to kick it past me?"

The children looked at each other, uncertain of if they should accept. 'Hm, perhaps my approach wasn't as delicate as I thought…might I offer food?' He pondered the matter before his eyes widened. The park of ingenuity was alight once more.

'Or…a much better, more enticing reward.'

The Monkey King's grin grew wider and he rose from his kneeling state. "How about this? If you manage to get the ball past me…I will tell you a story!"

They all blinked. "A story?"

"Oh yes, this Old Sun has travelled far and wide, and has seen many mysteries and wonders!" He swept his hand in the air and they all followed it like fish on a line. "Heroes, warriors, great battles and sinister demons…I would be happy to tell you about one of them…if you can win."

The girls still looked hesitant, but the boys' fire had kindled. "We'll win!"

"Hoh hoh, we shall see!" Wukong sauntered to the twin rocks and stood between them with his arms behind his back. His eyes swept over them and gave a light flourish. "Come then! Show this old monkey your skills!"

Taking a deep breath, Thao was the first to try. He kicked the ball at Wukong, who batted it back with his tail, much like he did on the day they met. He moved to the left and kicked again, only to meet the same result. The right? Another bounce.

"Come now, where is that brave warrior I saw?" Wukong asked with a tilt of his head. Thao pouted in frustration and wound himself up for another kick -

"Hey!"

But Mei beat him to it, sending the ball flying…albeit with similar results.

"If you hope to succeed, brute force alone will not avail you, little ones." Wukong wagged his finger in the air.

Rin took advantage of his speech and made his own attempt -

"Ooh, almost!"

The ball passed to Bǎihé, who gave both it and himself scared faces…and predictably, her kick was weaker than the rest. When he kicked it back, Wukong loudly yawned.

"Is this all? Heed my words! Show me your warrior's spirit!"

Bǎihé looked at the ball again, and then her eyes widened. Oh hoh, is the wheel beginning to turn?

She pulled back her leg…and passed the ball to Thao. Confusion flashed across his features, and his gaze swapped back and forth between the ball, the girl, and himself before his eyes also grew wide. The ball flew toward Wukong at the same speed, but he pulled his tail so only the tip would strike it and pass it to Rin.

"Ah, thank the Heavens! Were I slower, I would have fallen by your blows!"

The other two children quickly caught on, and from there, the game continued: they would pass between them and kick, and Wukong would block. Sometimes they went straight for the kill, other times they passed it between themselves to try and confuse him. With every 'near-miss', their resolve strengthened and Wukong slowed down. The parents had grown fully relaxed, watching their children with amusement and befuddlement. Around them, trickles of people had stopped and were 'filming' them with their phones and whispering, yet none dared venture close. The four cubs didn't notice or didn't care, too engrossed in their game.

'Such enthusiasm! If my monkeys had balls like these, they'd never stop playing!' He thought. 'Perhaps it's time these young souls be rewarded.'

After a series of passes and shuffles, Mei struck the ball with all the might in her small leg. It flew right in the path of Wukong's tail…

…and ricocheted behind him, right past the stones.

…

…

…

"YAY!"

The four children cheered and jumped in the air. Wukong looked behind him and gasped with a hand to his chest.

"How the mighty have fallen! Before such intrepid youths, this Old Sun stood no chance! Oh, ancestors, spare me this shame!"

They giggled loudly at his moans as he knelt on the ground, his head almost touching the dirt. He then reared back and let out a merry laugh.

"What joy! A splendid game from all of you! And yes, I do believe football is a good name." Thao grinned at Rin, who pouted and kicked at the ground. Wukong snickered at their antics and sat cross-legged. "Such valor like I have witnessed today is worthy of reward! So gather 'round, and hear this grand tale!"

Thao and Mei appeared to Cloud Step from how fast they sat down while Rin dragged a protesting Bǎihé by the arm. Once they all settled down, Wukong plucked a handful of grass blades and rubbed them between his hands.

"Long ago, in a land where yaoguai, fierce demons, roamed the earth, preying on innocent souls and brave warriors struck them down, there was a village called Changuang. In that village lived a butcher named Wang."

He blew on the grass and let them dance in the wind, enchanting the cubs.

"Having lost his father when he was a babe, his mother needed a way for her son to grow. He had no father to teach him a craft, and they had no other relatives. So she sent him to apprentice with an older butcher, and over the years Wang honed his craft well, establishing his name throughout the village."

Thao and Mei nodded along. Rin held back a deluge of questions but Bǎihé's hand on his shoulder kept the dam closed.

"One day, a wealthy family from a nearby town wished to celebrate their son's birthday and paid Wang to slaughter pigs and sheep for them. With the strength and precision only years of dedication could grant, Wang helped prepare a meal so sumptuous, the crowd was left drooling long after the food was devoured. As thanks for his work, the head of the family rewarded him with a leg of pork."

Drool began to spool from Thao and Rin's lips and the girls made disgusted faces at them.

"He didn't wish to partake in the leg alone, so Wang set out from the town and back to the village to visit his mother. Along the worn and trodden path he walked, holding the bundled leg tight in his arms. Darkness had fallen over the land and the stars manned their vigils amongst the heavens. The fireflies had begun their evening dance, drifting between the bamboo stalks and kindling the evening with their beautiful glow." Wukong blew out a gust of air that sparkled in the sun, drawing awed cries from the children.

"Halfway on his route, where the light of the village lanterns bloomed from above the treetops, Wang spotted a young man lying by the roadside, holding a spear. 'Hello there!' he called out. 'Why do you sit by the road as Chang'e shines?'"

Wukong heightened his pitch to form the young man's reply. "'Greetings brother! I am a hunter for the village, trappings rabbits by the mountain's slope. I wish to return, but I fear the ghosts that haunt this road at night. May I accompany you?'"

Bǎihé shivered at the mention of ghosts, while Mei puffed herself up, hiding her fright.

"Wang agreed and they headed off. After a while, the hunter decided to start a conversation. 'Brother, have you heard? Yaoguai have come to roost in this mountain. The villagers hear their roars and laughter throughout the night.' Wang laughed. 'What is there to fear from yaoguai? I have a sharp knife at my waist and a leg of pork in my hand. If any guai comes at me…'" Wukong smacked a fist into his palm. "'I will smack it with this pork leg and chop it with my knife!'"

Another round of laughter came from the group. Did some of the surrounding people get closer?

"The hunter smiled at Wang's boastfulness. 'You must be a skilled warrior if you do not fear those demons.' Wang laughed again, 'Warrior? Hardly! I've been slaughtering animals since I was a child. One strike can hit the vital spot, and one chop can break bones and tendons.' The hunter raised a brow. 'How can you compare yaoguai to animals?'"

Wukong took a deep breath and his tone grew firm. "Wang turned to the young hunter with iron in his voice. 'There are no true demons in this world. Those who uphold justice are heroes; those who bully the innocent are simply foul beasts.' The hunter grew silent and trailed behind Wang, unsure of what to say."

The children were hooked on his every word, leaning their faces in.

"When they saw the village gates, the hunter asked, 'Since you show no fear, why don't you turn around?' As the hunter's grip on his spear tightened, Wang had realized from that question the truth of this hunter's nature: he was no man, but a shapeshifting demon!"

Bǎihé and Thao gasped.

"Wang nodded. 'Would you come forward then, so I might have a better view?' The hunter did as he was asked, and just as he was within arm's reach, Wang slammed the pork leg into his face! With a mighty thud, the hunter fell to the ground and Wang raised his knife to strike. At the sight of such sharp steel, the hunter panicked and in a puff of smoke, transformed into a hideous bat guai!"

Wukong mimed the appearance of large ears and bared his fangs. Bǎihé 'eep'ed and shrunk within herself and Mei and Thao reared back. Only Rin didn't move from his spot, looking even more excited.

"The bat demon spat to the side in rage over losing such easy prey. 'Bah, you were a tough one, butcher. Bad luck, bad luck for this azure bat!' He then sprouted wings and flew into the night sky. Smiling at his courage, Wang sheathed his knife and headed back to the village, where he ate with his mother a delicious leg of pork."

Rin whooped and punched the air. Wukong smiled and reclined. "Ah, they say the soft persimmons are easier to squeeze, hence it's better to be strong. Stand firm, and even yaoguais will fear you a bit."

"And thus, my dear friends, this tale ends."

…

…

…

"That was awesome!" Thao exclaimed, clambering to his feet and jumping like a grasshopper.

"Heh heh, I trust you liked my little chronicle?"

"It was amazing, Mr. Wukong!" said Mei. "It was like…like…" Her poor mind was too awestruck to form words.

"You're better than Mrs. Simmons at reading class!" Bǎihé said, wonder in her voice. "It's like I was really there in that village."

"Why thank you, my dear! Storytelling is an art my monkey friends taught me when I was a young cub like you. It was always fun to share such tales in the great hall of our cave."

"Can you tell us another one!? With an even scarier demon!?" Rin nearly hollered.

Wukong sighed and stood up. "Alas, I must bid you farewell for today, my little ones. This Old Sun must attend to his personal business." They all looked dejected and pouting, and Wukong couldn't help but chortle. "Do not worry! I hope to return soon, and I shall bring with me a story that will amaze you like never before!"

The glow of happiness on their faces could have brightened the underworld. Wukong dipped his head and crouched down. "Farewell, dear children! May your fortune and friendship hold for a thousand lifetimes!"

He leapt into the sky to the sound of goodbyes and whispers of surprise. He bound from roof to roof until the willow tree was no longer visible.

'That was…my word, has it been that long since I told a proper story? Ah, the sight of joyous children will never cease to satisfy me. In such a district ruled by foul bandits, levity on the streets is bound to be scarce. If a little story can help bring more wonder into their growing lives…'

For the third time today, the spark of inspiration struck the flint of the mind.

'...hmm. Yes…but…why just one story?'

Chapter Text

Now we must tell you that the Great Sage, after all, was a monkey monster; in truth, he had no knowledge of his title or rank, nor did he care for the size of his salary. He did nothing but place his name on the Register. At his official residence he was cared for night and day by the attending officials of the two departments. His sole concern was to eat three meals a day and to sleep soundly at night. Having neither duties nor worries, he was free and content to tour the mansions and meet friends, to make new acquaintances and form new alliances at his leisure. When he met the Three Pure Ones, he addressed them as "Your Reverence"; and when he ran into the Four Thearchs, he would say, "Your Majesty." As for the Nine Luminaries, the Generals of the Five Quarters, the Twenty-Eight Constellations, the Four Devarājas, the Twelve Horary Branches, the Five Elders of the Five Regions, the Star Spirits of the entire Heaven, and the numerous gods of the Milky Way, he called them all brother and treated them in a fraternal manner. Today he toured the east, and tomorrow he wandered west. Going and coming on the clouds, he had no specific itinerary.

-Journey to the West, chapter 5

The warehouse stank to high heaven, but this was often the case when it came to spare hideouts. They needed to be discreet and, in this particular case, spacious. Comfort was rarely a priority.

'Nevertheless,' thought Kaiser as he stared at his assembled forces. 'An air freshener would do marvels. At least the sweat and sewage would be replaced by something a little more bearable.'

Such as the odour of sweat emanating from the quivering subordinate in front of his throne of blades, who avoided all eye contact with either him or his lieutenants. Othala stood at his right side while Krieg and Alabaster were further down left. The rest of the assembled men were minor enforcers and gang members, with some wielding machetes and bats, all standing on catwalks and the warehouse floor. Anxiety emanated from them like a mass fog machine, tinged with confusion and a small measure of eagerness. A small portion of their forces, and one that he wouldn't normally summon. He would be content with addressing only the lieutenants. Recent events, however, prompted a more direct display.

"So…let me get this straight," he stated, looking directly at the trembling gangster. "You and your fellow brothers got into an altercation with the ABB over some insult, attempted to 'defend the Empire's honor', and someone opened fire?"

"Y-yeah," the peon replied. "We were going at it real tough, and Hookwolf said to rough up any chink who got in our way."

Yes…that did sound like Hookwolf or his way of phrasing the command Kaiser gave him. The orders he gave were specific enough, but his bestial cape always found ways to turn them bloody. At times, it was a useful trait, though not so much now. "Which then led to a proper retaliation?"

The peon nodded, though he still averted his eyes. "Hal was beating the crap out of one of the chinks and was about to cave in his sorry head. Then I- I- we don't know. There was a-a car, yeah, I'm guessin' it saw us and wanted to bail. We heard a loud crash a-and -" he swallowed. "The monkey was right there."

Kaiser raised an eyebrow at the emphasis but immediately understood what, or rather who, the underling was referring to. "The monkey…you mean this Sun Wukong?"

"Y-yeah, I think that's his name."

The head of the Empire 88 tightened his steepled fingers and his metallic throne creaked beneath him. Alabaster's eyes narrowed, his pale skin wrinkling around his lips before they returned to their pristine state. Krieg's jaw tensed, even as his eyes remained obscured by the simple domino mask.

"...continue," he said, his biting voice colder than ice. "Did he attack?"

"Uh-ah, no. He said we were scarin' the locals and told us to scram." The man's perspiration glinted against the dim light of the warehouse. "And…we kinda…did?"

"You ran away," said Kaiser. "From the monkey." There was no hint of accusation in his voice. It was a simple statement, equivalent to 'fire was hot'.

The peon meekly nodded and clutched his jacket. "W-what else could we do!? That's the monkey who trashed Lung!"

Alabaster scoffed and crossed his arms, and even Kaiser felt the corner of his lips twitch. The sheer incredulity of that statement would've prompted a swift termination were it any other situation, even in a world of capes.

"I take it Hookwolf was absent during this incident?" the Empire leader asked.

"Y-yeah. He split us up into groups and took only one with him. I think he wanted to fight another cape."

Kaiser tapped a finger on the throne. Once again, Hookwolf's bloodlust was proving…annoying. Still, he had done as instructed and was currently leading some men to ensure some of their territory didn't get any bright ideas.

"So he's interfering in our operations?" asked Krieg. "We should send a strike force. This is a prime opportunity to spread our turf and take out the competition." He turned to Kaiser with a hint of eagerness. "I'll need Othala and Hookwolf for this, and I can have my men ready in-"

A raised hand froze the man, and no words further left his mouth. "Your dedication is admirable, Krieg, but we must take stock of the situation first. Regardless of what you think of Sun Wukong's appearance, the fact of the matter is that he still took out our strongest competitor for the Bay. We cannot underestimate him, and I'm sure the PRT is increasing their efforts to approach him if they haven't already. But first…" Kaiser addressed the peon once again. "Three days have passed since that incident, and I'm only hearing about it now. Why is that?"

The bald man silently stammered as his fellows looked at him with tensed feet.

"Your esteemed leader is addressing you," Alabaster said airily. "Speak." The consequences should he remain silent were clear to all.

"W-we wanted to finish Hookwolf's orders!" the man squeaked and shrunk into himself. "T-then the cops came and we had to lie low, we really wanted to tell, but Nick got the idea of going radio silent until everything cleared out-"

"Spare me your rambling," Kaiser interjected, his voice tightening even further. He flexed his fingers and the blades on his throne rattled, the sound of steel echoing throughout the warehouse. The soldiers stared at him in fear, while the peon looked a moment away from soiling himself.

Eventually, he sat upright and gave his verdict. "Such pertinent information is never to be delayed in any manner. Hookwolf may give you orders, but you - all of you - heed my words. I would normally consider your presence here a failure of your mission."

Dread painted the gangbanger's visage, with his sweat rolling off him like a waterfall.

"However…" he froze. "The fog of war is a treacherous hazard, and you had no hope in engaging a cape without the firepower of a lieutenant. I'd be inclined to let you rot in jail or dispose of you had you acted like fools and tried to attack a foe beyond your caliber. For that, you have my mercy."

A collective sigh came from the audience, and the peon's knees quaked as he almost collapsed to the floor. Thankfully, he had enough willpower to nod and salute before retreating into the ranks.

"What is our current status?"

Krieg stepped up. "We've claimed areas south of the boardwalk and lower Uptown, with plenty of businesses ripe for the taking. The foot soldiers have tagged areas west of the Docks, and if we maintain our momentum with a layer of stealth, we should recoup the losses of our safe house after Lee's attack."

Kaiser nodded. "Ah yes, Oni Lee. Has he been sighted since Lung's little romp?"

"No signs on the streets, and the PRT issued another call for his arrest."

"My eyes in the Trainyard haven't reported anything," said Alabaster, the barest hint of frustration seeping into his casual tone. "We'll keep an eye out, get some police scanners. If Lee makes a move, we will know."

"I think he hightailed it out of the city," snickered Krieg. "A coward beneath all of his fire and bluster, and his men are much the same."

Othala smirked at his right-hand's remark, and Kaiser waved a hand. "As delightful as the thought might be, we've forgotten one important fact: Lung is simply missing, neither captured nor dead. Else, the news would have spread across the city days ago. If I have learned one trait from Lung after these years, it is that he never forgives an insult. He will try and reclaim what is his, especially after such a humiliating defeat. The question is whether or not Oni Lee is aware of this. What is the state of the ABB right now?"

"They are scattered and desperate…but there are signs of them retreating into their burrows," replied Othala as she took out her phone and scrolled with her thumb. "Fewer riots or sudden robberies than expected, and one of the storehouses we claimed from them was cleared out recently."

"Hmm, so Lee could be directing the group from a safe location, or more likely, relaying Lung's orders." Kaiser tilted his helmeted head upwards and stared at the steel-clad roof in rumination. "Not too dissimilar from his previous style of rule, but remarkably more cautious."

"Maybe Lee decided to take over?" she asked, shifting in her skin-tight suit. Kaiser shook his head in response.

"Lee never struck me as much of a leader and he'd never follow someone who isn't a cape. No, the likely scenario is that Lung is alive yet battered and is directing his gang from the shadows while he recovers, no doubt to reclaim his turf and defeat the upstart who usurped him." He lowered his head and steepled his fingers. "Lower the intensity of our excursions. Stick to simple intimidation and tagging; that should give us enough breathing room to strengthen the hold on our new territories while leaving us room to expand should the chance arise. Hookwolf and Cricket will double down on those, and I'll have proper assignments for the lieutenants based on how the situation develops."

His three capes nodded, and then Alabaster spoke up. "What about the monkey?"

Ah yes, the monkey. The most intriguing aspect of these past few days. "He hasn't made any public appearances since his victory, correct? The encounter with our brothers notwithstanding."

"There's been a sighting of him playing with some local children in the Asian district," replied Othala. "The video's been uploaded to PHO and is receiving a lot of attention."

"Possible leverage then. Has he fought other criminals or even heroes?"

She shook her head. "So far nothing. He didn't even respond to our incursion into the western Docks."

"That doesn't correspond with the word on the street," Krieg said and tilted his head. "I've heard rumors on the street he's looking to take over their operations."

"Unsubstantiated rumors do not provide a good base of intelligence, moreso with what we know of this cape. He was mainly sighted in the Asian district itself, correct?"

At Othala's nod, he continued. "Then his lair or hideout is within that area. We have residents in the district who owe us debts and favors. If we are fortunate, they might be able to narrow down a more specific location of his haunts."

Othala blinked with her uncovered eye and turned to him. "But isn't that breaking the unwritten rules?"

"Only if we attack him in his home. Besides…" he smirked, even though no one could see it. "With a face like his, any civilian identity would be…pointless."

Snickers and mocking laughter arose from the crowd. A good jab at the men's perception of subhumans always invigorated their limited minds. Their levity ground to a halt when Kaiser rose from his throne, and the whole room seemed to stand at attention.

"You have your assignments, and those who don't will receive them from their superiors. Krieg has spoken a valuable truth; this opportunity will not come to us easily again. The ABB has suffered a devastating blow, and if we play our cards right, we could deepen their wound to the point where they will never regain their former strength, even with capes. Spread the word and our influence everywhere you can. If territory cannot be taken over, ensure they know who their new neighbors are. It's only polite to introduce ourselves, no?"

His lieutenants and his men nodded. They had a plan of action, and the rest was semantics that could be dealt with later. Kaiser moved to dismiss them, but Alabaster chimed in.

"What about Sun Wukong? If he's not taking over, then what do you think is his angle?"

Kaiser's eyes flickered to his pale lieutenant and held his arms behind his back. "His idiosyncrasies aside, he likes to play hero, so engineering a situation where we could force him to act would help in gaining insight into his abilities, but he is an unknown factor. A man who could take down Lung is not to be trifled with, and his jokester persona might be a mask to hide his intelligence. Mouse Protector is one such example with her destruction of many a cape's dignity. I have some contacts in the Gesellschaft who might deliver us some clues as to his whereabouts before his debut here, but until then, maintain a respectable distance and gather what intel you can."

An unlikely scenario, considering their limited means of ferreting out information from the Far East or related circles, but it would be remiss not to investigate a little.

"If he interferes, I'll respond accordingly. Hookwolf wouldn't be averse to bolster his reputation."

He raised his hand in salute. "You have your orders. Dismissed! Sieg heil!"

"Sieg heil!" They replied, all obedient and fervorous. So useful. If only it didn't make his eye twitch.

Even as the underlings dispersed, Kaiser's mind lingered on Alabster's question.

'Should I deal with him as if he were another meddlesome hero?' thought Kaiser, 'From that video on PHO, he was no bullhead. There was tactical thought in his actions, like Armsmaster with a sense of humor. Pushing his enemy's buttons seems to be one of them.'

The throne receded behind him as he left the warehouse, his lieutenants following his footsteps.

'There is also his fight with Glory Girl. Was that a test of the local cape scene? Once he felt he could take her out, taking out potential competition wouldn't be off the table. I'll have to prepare contingency plans, maybe even a direct head-to-head, just to establish boundaries. The question remains…how will he act? Contentment with the docks like his draconic predecessor? Or expansion? He's avoided the PRT's efforts to communicate with him, per Victor's word, but that doesn't invalidate the possibility of an alliance with them. Eliminating him right now isn't feasible, but he has shown handles we can exploit.'

Kaiser recalled both the grainy video on PHO and the news report. This monkey cape was strong, no doubt about it, but there was a key piece missing in the puzzle of his character. He'd observed many capes over the years and learned to get a general feel of their disposition; at times, it was a survival tool. Then what could be different about this one?

'What could be going through your head, Sun Wukong? What is your goal?'

"So what controls these lights?"

The woman blinked at Wukong's query and looked above her. "I…think there's a control tower somewhere?"

"A 'control tower'?" Wukong stroked his furry chin. "Does it control every light in the city? How? There must be a great many eyes in this tower to monitor this multitude of lights. Your city is rather fond of them. Is the tower in one of those glass spires over yonder?"

"Uh…" the hapless woman scratched her cheek. "I actually don't know. Maybe there's a computer…wait, don't tell me you've never seen a traffic light before?"

"Never even once! Signal lanterns and signs were not unheard of on the roads or in times of war, but nothing of this scale and complexity! When I first saw these, I thought you dipped fireflies in dye and prodded them whenever you wished for them to bloom!"

The 'traffic light' changed from red to green and cars rolled down the black road, while the cars in the intersecting lane rumbled in place. Wukong clapped his fingers and giggled raspily. "Under the moonlight, the chariots dance!"

The woman gave him the same look Xiwangmu's maidens gave him when they caught him…enjoying the fruits of his labor, a cross between jaw-dropping disbelief and the feeling of fecal matter running down their garments. "What rock did you crawl out from?"

"I was born from a rock, thank you very much. An egg from a rock, but I sometimes forget."

She stammered, then threw her hands up and left, muttering "capes" under her breath.

'How rude! This Old Sun was asking a simple question? Is curiosity not rewarded here?'

Wukong snorted as he crossed the road, admiring the painted white lines. He'd taken to walking the odd street instead of leaping from roof to roof. The locals gave him a wide berth, only greeting him when he waved and occasionally pointing their phones at him, but he always darted around a corner or leaped up a building before they could. He had considered entertaining their nosiness - he even had a little jig prepared - but Peizhi-xiansheng croaked out the funny strangled noise when news of his playtime with the children leaked. Considering how fast the news of his triumph over the false long spread, Wukong felt that he should alleviate a portion of his poor host's worries.

'I don't understand the reason for his anxiety. The circle will hold up against any threat these mortals can conjure, strange sorcery included. Perhaps a more practical demonstration would ease his mind? Hmm, no, that could draw even more attention to his shop. I might need to ask him directly, though it would shame me as a guest. He looked amused when I told him of the children's reaction though so…bah, trifles and troubles, Old Sun! You will overcome them in due time.'

Two days had passed since then and he'd gone through the same routine of walking through the streets or flying through the farther districts as a bird. One would think he would have searched the whole city by now, and it was well within his abilities, but Wukon took his time to admire the shapes and lives of the common folk around him, bizarre as they might seem. He didn't even turn on his Golden Eyes, for he had no desire to tangle with the heroes of ruffians just now. It might have delayed his efforts at investigating the apparitions, but he felt a short break would help refresh his eyes.

Also, the seeds of an idea were planted in his head, stemming from his enjoyable time with the mortal cubs. Alas, they required nourishment before they could bloom, and these strolls would help the clouds of his doubt shower them with raindrops of knowledge. And such precious water came from none else than the very people he wished to interact with, despite their oddness.

'The youths here are quite fond of piercing their ears, like the wild folk of the north. What fashion lies in metal stuck in your ear? The Buddha's ears are long for he hears all suffering and has gained wisdom from them, not because of metal rings and jeweled nibs!'

A group of young people approached his direction as they chatted with each other - one had rope dangling from her ears! - when they saw Wukong walking toward them. The Monkey King smiled and inclined his head to them, and the youths' faces blanched as they did the same. Before he had a chance to enquire about the rope, they swiftly turned around and scurried off, leaving Wukong open-mouthed. He closed his jaw and tilted his head, baffled by the sudden rush.

'Have I caused some offense?' he pondered. 'The people in the first village I visited when I left my mountain reacted similarly, but I was naked and had no notion of proper clothes.' His red eyes widened and he snapped his fingers.

'Of course! They think I'm a vagrant, come to beg them for alms!' He looked down at his robes and huffed. 'With all due respect to generosity for all beings, I do wish seamstress Xiuying would finish her craft soon. These robes are beginning to itch, and Meiguo garments look ridiculous! The shirts are adequate, especially with their strange pictures, but the pants! My poor tail moans in agony!'

He'd tried one of Peizhi-xiansheng's shirts when the man was absent, and to his surprise, it was quite comfortable. It would never beat a good robe, but he could see their usefulness. Hmm, perhaps he should've cleaned out all of the hairs before he left…

The scent of wood pulled him from his fashion-induced musings. Wukong blinked at the sight of a small shop, tucked within the confines of the stain-rock building and under a dark-striped cloth awning, upon which was painted the faded image of…

'What in the six paths could that be?'

Under the image was an image of an open scroll with the words "Used Books" written upon them in English.

"Books?" he muttered. The word…didn't translate fluidly in his mind. Story? Register? The mantra did a splendid job of translating so far, but some words didn't process as well when he converted them into his mother tongue.

'Color me intrigued. Time for another discovery!'

With those words, he marched into the store. The woody scent, along with that of paper, struck his nostrils as he gazed into rows of dark shelves. Dust motes danced under the faint rays of sunlight streaming through the windows, settling on the exposed shelf edges and wooden planks of the floor, and a plush leather chair sat next to a spiraling staircase. A covered lamp hung from the ceiling, faintly illuminating the shadowed corners of the store. A counter lay sequestered in the far corner of the shop, despite it being empty. Shuffling came from behind a closed door, no doubt belonging to the shopkeeper. What intrigued Wukong were the peculiar objects that filled every shelf around him. Curved, almost leather-like objects with words written along their length. The woody scent wafted mainly from them, and he would later find it was no surprise why.

He plucked one of the objects from the shelves. The inside was filled with sheets of paper, all of equal size and bound together by string and, what he suspected, glue. Lines upon lines of words were inscribed upon each and every page, both front and back, arranged in a neat, methodical manner. Pictures and illustrations were placed along every few pages, with smaller lines describing them.

He stared at the object long and hard, feeling the texture of the binding - which was more parchment than leather, though he had spotted visibly harder bindings on the shelves before it finally hit him.

'This is a scroll,' he thought in wonderment as he closed the…book…and stared at the cover, showing a boat with white sails, coming into the port of a green and lush land, filled with all manner of trees. At the top of the cover, in big red letters, was written: A Short History of the United States.

'Instead of being written in one length of parchment or etched in stone or wood, the paper is cut and bound in a single collection. No need for strewing out and cumbersome rolling,' thought Wukong as he opened the book and gently gripped a page. 'And this describes the history of this land! Oh, joy of joys!'

Wukong hopped into the empty seat in the corner and felt the leather rub against his backside. Taking a moment to enjoy the softness, he opened the book to the first page and began to read. The horizontal direction of the words didn't bother him, not after he had seen many examples of both Hànyǔ and English on the street signs. For a few minutes, he dived into the origins of the land he found himself in, detailing how mortals crossed over the Eastern ocean from the far northern lands, when the world was frozen and a great bridge had formed. How they dispersed and settled every region they could, from mountains to deserts to the lush forests on the cover. Every time he turned a page, he giggled. The convenience of it…woe unto Heaven for not discovering this method!

And this wasn't some scholar's or nobleman's private collection to be hoarded, gathering dust and attracting rats! This was a shop for the public, free to pursue knowledge!

'Unthinkable, they would never stand for it, for knowledge to be traded with petty coin… I should begin tallying points!'

The sound of the door opening almost broke his concentration, but Wukong kept on reading. He would have continued, if it wasn't for the sight of a little girl with wavy amber hair, darker than Glory Girl's, entering the store. She looked about Mei and Bǎihé's age, wearing a green shirt. Her gaze, which wandered around the shop, landed on him before her eyes widened and her little jaw dropped. He'd thought she would scream, but instead, she swallowed and whispered, "H-hi!"

Wukong gently smiled back and closed the book, placing it in his lap. "Hello, little one. Are you alright?"

"Er, I'm fine, thanks. Just…" she glanced at the shelves. "Looking for a good book."

"Well, don't let me keep you! To have all this knowledge at your fingertips, there surely is a treasure!"

She flickered back to the shelves before taking a deep breath. "You're that monkey from the news, right? The one who took down Lung? Son Wukong?"

"Sun Wukong, actually, but that is my name, yes." He scrunched his brow. "Hm, should I add 'Champion over false yaoguai' to my titles?" he asked himself before shaking his head. "Needs better phrasing."

The girl looked at him strangely. "What are you doing here?"

He held the book up by the spine. "Reading!"

She blinked and looked at the floor, red splashing her cheeks. "Oh, right."

"And what might be the young lady's name?"

She hesitated momentarily but nevertheless answered. "I'm Missy."

"A fine day to you, Missy," Wukong said and bowed his head. He opened the book and started to read again. He had gone halfway through a page when the girl cleared her throat.

"Um…was it scary, fighting Lung?"

"Scary?" Wukong asked. "Hmm…no, I had nothing to fear! His flames were…passable at best, but he was naught but a lantern, floating on his own hot air. He denied it until the end, but the truth, like the sun and moon, will always reveal itself."

"Oh…okay…" she looked briefly over to the counter before returning to him. "What are you reading?"

"The history of your land. I must say, I've never seen a history this blunt! No poems or flowery language, waxing on the nature of the world and the lineages. One would reason that such a manner of presentation is dull, and I enjoy a good poem, but it is…refreshing to view history in such a blunt manner."

Missy peered closer. "A history book? Not really my thing. But don't they have history books in…wherever you're from?"

Wukong shrugged. "Flower-Fruit Mountain, for all its treasures, wasn't a bastion of literature and knowledge. And, I admit, I was not the most ardent of scholars after I parted ways with my first master."

He lightly rapped on the book with a knuckle. "Had these books existed, I would have hollowed out a cave just for a collection of them!"

"Hollowed out…?" she whispered and shook her head. "Well, what's it like in…Flower-Fruit Mountain?"

Wukong leaned back, and a soft sigh escaped his fanged mouth. "Oh, it is a beautiful mountain, unlike any in the world!"

He began to hum, words of ancient times flowing from his mouth, passed down from his monkey friends in his youth. When he was a newborn learning the ways of the world before he leapt through the Water Curtain and was crowned their king:

"Its majesty commands the wide ocean;

Its splendor rules the jasper sea;

When, like silver mountains, the tide sweeps fishes into caves;

Its splendor rules the jasper sea.

When snowlike billows send forth serpents from the deep.

On the southwest side pile up tall plateaus;

From the Eastern Sea arise soaring peaks.

There are crimson ridges and portentous rocks,

Precipitous cliffs and prodigious peaks.

Atop the crimson ridges, phoenixes sing in pairs:

Before precipitous cliffs, the kirin singly rests.

At the summit is heard the cry of golden pheasants;

In and out of stony caves are seen the strides of dragons:

In the forest are long-lived deer and immortal foxes.

On the trees are divine fowls and black cranes.

Strange grass and flowers never wither:

Green pines and cypresses always keep their spring.

Immortal peaches are ever fruit-bearing;

Lofty bamboos often detain the clouds.

Within a single gorge the creeping vines are dense;

The grass color of meadows all around is fresh.

This is indeed the pillar of Heaven, where a hundred rivers meet— The Earth's great axis, in ten thousand kalpas unchanged!"

He lowered his head and met Missy's dumbfounded stare. "That is Flower-Fruit Mountain, my dear. If the splendour of heaven could exist upon the earth, it would be there!"

Missy stared at him for a minute before she managed to formulate an answer. "Okayyyy…" she replied, her skepticism thick. "Dragons? Phoenixes?"

"Yes, noble creatures, all of them. Not like the imitation that had so rudely threatened the mortals here." He snorted. "If they could hear this Lung's claims, they would strike him down with one fell blow!"

She tilted her head and leaned against a shelf. "How did you end up here then? Brockton Bay isn't the most inviting of cities."

This time it was Wukong's turn to pause. How should he explain this, when he didn't quite know himself? Much less to a child.

"I have always been a traveler, and I long desired to leave my mountain to explore new lands. I ended up sleeping on the boat and the next thing I knew, I awoke in your fair city!"

"Well, you've got a whole lot more options than just Brockton. I think that book will tell you that," Missy said as she gestured to the book. "There's gotta be more exciting places than this dump of a city."

"Now, now," Wukong replied, wagging his finger. "There is wonder to be found in every place you go! From the feeling of stone on your palm to the scent of exotic food cooking in a stall, every walk can be an adventure, every street an exciting valley! My mountain has not even half the marvels I've seen since coming here, and I relish every moment I explore! Inventions, people, even the heroes who safeguard your lives against the thugs who prowl the dark! I agree that your Meiguo is vast, and I will learn more about it, but that will come in due time. For now, I am content with this city, for its secrets have yet to be discovered."

He then chuckled. "Forgive this Old Sun's ramblings, but I have yet to let you speak, young Missy! What goes on in your life?"

Missy flinched at the question and pointed at herself. At Wukong's eager nod, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well…not much. I go to school, I play games, I have friends I hang out with. One of them got a big assignment from the…teachers, yeah, and he wasn't able to hang out with us lately."

"Ah, studies never cease. Do you still consider him a friend?"

"Yeah!" she replied. "Of course, it's just…I dunno."

"Then rejoice in his success, and if he is a true friend, he shall always find time for you. Treasure your friends, Missy, for true friends are rarer than jade."

"Um…thanks," she mumbled. Her gaze returned to the shelves, and her little finger traced the spines of the books. "I like mystery novels, but I don't know which one to read next."

"Novel?" asked Wukong, and then his eyes widened as the word's meaning entered his mind. "Stories, of course! Why limit such a method to histories alone?" He leaped from the chair, closed his book, and placed it there. "I would like to read one. Would you recommend this Old Sun your favorite tale?"

"My favorite?" she asked and looked at the shelves, scrunching her brow. "I don't know if they have them here, but I could find some classics to get you started." She peeked through the shelves, eyeing the numerous books. "There's Agatha Christie, always a classic, Sherlock Holmes, wait, here's one…"

Wukong smiled as the amber-haired girl searched for books, the nervousness in her voice vanishing bit by bit. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the shopkeeper, a graybeard with a big red nose, staring at him warily, so he waved. The elder raised a wrinkled eyebrow but nodded curtly and rested on the countertop.

The Monkey King let his eyes wander the shelves, rifling through the various titles…and there, hidden between great blocks of paper and words, a title peeked through, with characters of Hànyǔ inscribed along its spine.

'Hoh, what is this?' He bent down and stared at the protruding book. The spine was blue, thick and leather-like, about three-quarters of a finger thick. He ran a thumb along the spine, feeling its texture, and tracing the three characters written in gold:

西遊記

'Xī Yóu Jì…

Why does this name send a tingle down my spine?'

He grasped the book and pulled it out -

Snap.

The room echoed with the sound of the break.

It didn't come from the store, from any shelf or chair. The break echoed through Wukong's head and soul, alerting him through the tether he had infused into the item. Through the link, the emotion rammed into him.

Sorrow. Despair. Anger.

"...and Girl With the Dragon Tattoo should do it. Maybe it's too much for a first time, right?" Missy peered over him while she held a stack of books. "You found something?"

He shot up and bowed to Missy. "I thank you for the recommendation and apologize a thousandfold for my rudeness, but I must depart for an urgent matter. I shall return and peruse through your tales, do not worry!"

Missy looked at him with surprise and took a step back. "Wait, what do you-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Wukong bolted from the store and jumped to the rooftops. Turning into a swallow, he flew to the south, past buildings and spires, straight to the source of the severing. He soared deeper into the city until he saw it: a two-story building with a dirty yard…and a great number of youths swarming in and out of its doors like flies.

'Why am I getting the sensation I have done this before in ages past?'

Chapter Text

BAM! That was fast! I know you're all waiting for this!

You know the drill now.

Huge thanks to TrajectoryAgreement, starlit and storybookknight for beta reading!

绝智弃学。 I will cast out Wisdom and reject Learning.

游心于玄默。 My thoughts shall wander in the Great Void.

绝智弃学。 I will cast out Wisdom and reject Learning.

游心于玄默。 My thoughts shall wander in the Great Void.

遇过而悔。 Always repenting of wrongs done

当不自得。 Will never bring my heart to rest.

垂钓一壑。 I cast my hook in a single stream;

所乐一国。 But my joy is as though I possessed a Kingdom.

被发行歌。 I loose my hair and go singing;

和气四塞。 To the four frontiers men join in my refrain.

歌以言之。 This is the purport of my song:

游心于玄默。 "My thoughts shall wander in the Great Void."

— 'Taoist Poem', Ji Kang. On the nature of enlightenment

The snap seemed to echo down the hall, along with the last scraps of her heart. And all Taylor could do was lie on the dirty floor and stare.

"Aw, what's wrong, Taylor? Did you drop something?"

Every word was a stab in her ear, shattered glass raking over a chalkboard. She didn't dare look up, not when cold eyes stared at her. The few students who dared to brave the halls at the time stood to the side, watching and unmoving. Teachers? As if. They always knew when and where to strike, away from anyone who might give a damn.

The same song and dance every day, though this one started tamer than usual. No hate mail, no sharp whispers, only the lone spitball in class. For a moment, she had even dared to hope.

Maybe that was why the abyss felt deeper. It closed by a margin, and she'd latched onto the edge like a lifeline…only for the maw to open wide and swallow her whole again.

This time, it wasn't the mocking eyes full of cruelty of her former friend, nor the barbed words of the rest of the Trio, or even the apathetic gazes of her schoolmates that rent her innards apart.

It was the little pieces of wood, once finely polished and admired by the light of a desk lamp, scattered across filthy floor tiles.

A blur came down and another snap rang in her ears, and all she could only watch, even as the new piece of wood rolled right into her face.

"Oops, was that important?" Madison's voice raked the proverbial nail across her brain. A sob or a whimper would've been natural, but instead, all Taylor could feel was the abyss drowning her again, dragging her to depths she hadn't even thought possible before.

It was stupid. She didn't want to bring it to school. She knew this might happen. Their sole purpose was to ensure her life was as miserable as it could get. Nothing and no one was sacred. If her mother's flute wasn't safe from their hands, why would a stupid little brush be spared?

Why did she do it then? Why grab the brush from her desk and not leave it next to the inkstone? Why not wait until after school to read about calligraphy, to finally have the courage to put it to paper? It wasn't anything special; hell, she'd looked up fancier brushes.

"Wow, I didn't think you could get more pathetic, Hebert. A brush? That's all it takes to break you?"

Maybe…she wanted to feel it in school, where the demons came out to play and torment her. The warm tingling she got when she held the little piece of wood and hair. The greys of the world around her, blooming with a smidgen of color. The invisible chains dragging her limbs down lost a few links.

She just had to take it out as she hid behind her locker door. Right as they saw it.

A silly little gift.

Given by the first person who actually bothered to stop and help her.

It wouldn't stop; she'd accepted it long ago. No one would help her, and she was powerless. Taking the blows was routine at this point. They gave her their daily dose of humiliation, she'd endure, pick herself up, and slog forward until the day ended.

Was it so wrong to feel that lingering warmth with her in that abyss?

But in an instant, it was gone. Scraps for a fire or the garbage.

Like everything else.

She ignored the kick. The snickers, the whispers, they all began to fade. Even as everything grew grey and blurry again, her body moved. She didn't even realize it until she held the broken brush in her hand. It was only the end of the handle and the hairy tip.

An anchor in the otherwise roaring sea of despair that was her life.

The boot grinding against her fingers drew her out of her stupor, and the smug face of Sophia Hess staring down at her made her feel like an ant. Emma slowly walked around Taylor's prone form and smirked, brushing a strand of red hair away from her curved face.

"You're right, Sophia. You know those rats that scurry around in the science lab and grab the little pieces of cheese? I think I'm looking at one right now."

"She has the hair for it," giggled Madison. "We just need more grease and a dash of that smelly deodorant from the gym. Then she'll fit right in!"

If Taylor could shrink into her hoodie like a turtle, she would have. It made her harder to spot in a crowd. Whenever she did the action after their antics, it gave them a feeling of victory, and they'd leave her alone faster. It worked before, even if it burned whatever little dignity she had left.

Sophia's boot kept grinding on her closed palm, and the rubber scraping against her knuckles would have made her drop the brush's remains…but her palm remained closed. If anything, the grip grew tighter. The logical part of Taylor's mind, worn and scarred by the Trio's relentless campaign, chided her for resisting. If she let the now-useless brush go, maybe they'd leave faster. Then she'd wait school out, endure everything else, and return home. A cold, empty home that held on with an illusion, but at least it was safe. Away from them. Sure, the routine would repeat ad nauseam, but she grew used to it.

And yet…she didn't let go. A vestige of herself she thought had died in that summer camp, pleading wordlessly to cling to any speck of comfort she could find.

To not let a precious thing get stolen from her again.

Why was she listening to it? Why was her fist still closed?

Before she could process it further, two hands reached down and grabbed her, one by the jacket and the other by her outstretched hand. She was slammed against the wall and winced at the sudden motion. She looked back to find Sophia staring right into her eyes with a half-sneer on her face.

"Oh, that's just cute, Hebert. Think you've got a spine now?"

This was bad. She never got this violent.

Madison stood behind Sophia with a smirk of eagerness, and Emma's perfect eyebrow was raised. Pressed against the peeling paint, Taylor glanced at the hallway and just like before, the few students that were present looked away. She even spotted one or two giggling at her misfortune.

Unfortunately, Sophia noticed her flickering eyes.

"You think someone's gonna come help, geek? News flash, it ain't gonna happen. They know their place, and you need to know yours." She tightened her grip on Taylor's arm and began to twist. "No one will believe your spineless ass, and that's how it'll always be."

Her arm began to burn and Taylor felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She wanted to look away, but Sophia's fist gripping her hoodie and pressing against her prevented that. The abyss felt wider and wider, and it wasn't a fast fall. The air felt cloying and thick, and the shadows grew from the corners of the hall. A choked sob almost escaped her, but she forced it down. If she gave a reaction, they'd push even more.

Despite all that, despite the utter hopelessness of her situation, she didn't let go of that broken gift.

"Make this fucking easier on yourself…" Sophia leaned forward, and her voice dropped into a cruel, bloodied whisper. "And take what's coming to you, you pathetic little queef."

Her arm was a vice, burning her thin flesh. Amidst the snickering and silent goading of the rest of Trio, Taylor watched with frantic trembling as her grip loosened bit by bit. Any moment now those pieces would fall, Emma would throw them away where she could never find them or break them completely, and that little gift would be gone. Gone in body like her mother, gone in spirit like her father, gonegonegoneawayalonewhywhyWHY -

Chirp chirp.

White. No, smoke. It filled her vision, then it was gone. Wait, was that a hand?

"Now what do we have here?"

No. No way. She was dreaming again. Hallucinating from asphyxiation, or she was so far gone that her mind was trying to cope.

Because there was no way in hell that the very one who gave her the stupid little brush was here, holding Sophia's right arm with a hand of pointed nails.

"While I do not blame children for acting rambunctious, such is their nature, this Old Sun believes you are treading the thin line between play and blood."

Yet there was no mistaking that raspy voice, nor the furry mane crowning his very distinct face and fanged smile.

"Why don't you let go of the young lass and we can have a calm and reasonable conversation about this, oh dark-skinned one?"

It was an image that was seared into Taylor's mind. Sophia Hess, her tormentor and the source of her misery for over a year, who tried to break her down piece by piece. Her former friend Emma, who pushed everyone away from her and crucified her on the social gallows with her crony Madison, filled with schadenfreude at every act of degradation against her. The students of Winslow, indifferent to, and at times rejoicing in, her misery.

All of them staring in absolute shock at Sun Wukong.

A moment this perfect couldn't be real.

The monkey man tilted his head with amusement and twisted his palm. Sophia yelped and both her grips loosened, letting Taylor go. She quickly brought her fist to her chest and rubbed her wrist, even as her knees buckled by the sheer incredulity of the situation.

"Wha-what the fuck!?" Sophia yelled, her eyes widening as she looked him up and down. "Wait, aren't you -"

"Sun Wukong, Monkey King of Flower-Fruit Mountain and slayer of ten thousand demons, yes, yes, I know." He gave a little flourish with his free hand and bowed. "Awe is natural in my presence."

She didn't know who whispered Lung, but they voiced the collective thoughts of everyone in the hall. More students peeked out from behind corners and doors, their faces matching the other in a mosaic of wide eyes and gaping jaws.

"H-how the hell did you get in here!?" Sophia asked, her voice growing nervous and bewildered with every word, a feat Taylor didn't think was possible.

"Hm? I came through the window of course, where else would I enter?"

He pointed to the window at the end of the hall, and everyone turned to it. Wait, it was always broken?

"I was just strolling through this lovely quarter of the city and spotted this institution of learning. The feng shui is lacking for an environment of studying and education; no color or cohesion, the design is inconvenient, and the smell!" He waved a hand in front of his nose and his red eyes scanned the halls, causing his smile to grow thin. "I see this applies to the gardens and the palace. I was pondering the reason for such untidiness when the distress of a fair maiden reached these old ears. Being the good-natured monkey that I am, I hopped over to see what all the hubbub was about."

Fair maiden? A strangled guffaw finally rolled out of her throat. Sophia turned to her and snarled with a stare that could melt through steel, only for Wukong to clamp down harder and bite out a curse.

"Imagine this Old Sun's surprise to see three young ones conduct themselves with such poor manners! Haven't your mothers taught you how to behave amongst your peers?" he tutted and wagged his finger. "For shame!"

Sophia tried to wrest herself out of his grip, but he didn't budge. Her free hand twitched next to her pocket as if it was reaching for a weapon that wasn't there but didn't move otherwise. With every attempt, the bully bared her teeth until she resembled a panicked animal.

"Umm, Mr. Wukong, sir?" asked Emma in a saccharine-sweet voice, stepping up to him. Taylor's heart sank at her pouty lips and faux-concern. "We were just helping Taylor up. She's my friend, you see, and she doesn't watch where she's going, always stumbling into other people, so we make sure no one trips on her."

Every time Emma used that voice, the teachers and the few students not in the know believed her and told Taylor to 'mind herself'. It was another reminder that Taylor had no power, that people would always believe Emma's version of the story over hers. Emma and her friends: the perfect students vs. Taylor: the troublemaker.

Wukong stroked his mane and hummed in thought. Taylor's head lowered. He was going to believe them, like everyone else, and she'd be left alonealonealone -

"Wait, where have I seen you before?" he asked, then snapped his fingers. "Ah yes, you were at that food vendor some weeks ago. All that fat is too much for your frail body, girlie. I already see the pores and wrinkles forming on your little face. Lying so blatantly only worsens your condition by rotting your teeth! Dark words stain the mouth, and not even the ponds of Guanyin can cleanse them."

Emma gaped at the insult, but she had nothing on Taylor, who felt the world record scratch.

Did-did he just-

"That mask of jade might work on mortals, xiǎo mǔ zhū, but this Old Sun has seen past both guai and mortal lies far craftier than yours. At least in their case, I bought into their falsehoods, even if it was for scant seconds! You do have a career in the traveling theatre, so do not despair!" He gestured to Madison, who'd taken a step back and adopted the same hunched posture Taylor had all those long months. "Even now, I spot a performer willing and able to join your troupe!"

One of the Asian kids who was watching mouthed whatever word Wukong called Emma and laughed into his hand. His friends looked at him in confusion before he whispered in their ears, no doubt the meaning of the word. Their laughter, unmuffled by limb or flesh, drew Emma's attention, and she turned to them, ready to lash out. The corners of Taylor's lips twitched upward, yet another feat she didn't think possible.

Sophia tried once more to pry off Wukong's grip with both her hands, but all it accomplished was returning his focus to her.

"Now, why don't we all put this past us and you apologize to young Taylor?" His fangs jutted over his lower lips as he smiled again. "I know this will be difficult for you, your type are hardly ones to regard those they deem lesser, but to climb Mount Tai one must place their foot upon its slope!"

Sophia stammered silently, her face performing a mime act all by itself before finally settling on anger.

"If you don't get your hands off me right now," she growled. "I will make sure you regret it the rest of your fucking life, chimp."

Wukong kept smiling and turned his grip sideways, and she hissed in pain.

"You think I'm joking!? You have no idea who you're fucking with!" she glanced at Taylor and her hateful eyes made Taylor flinch back. "Why the fuck do you care about Hebert anyway!?"

She wasn't even denying it now. Not that it'll change anything, the darkness of her mind whispered.

"Well, I barely know her, true, but even from those scant moments, I deem her company pleasant and her conversation impeccable, unlike some present, nameless individuals," replied Wukong as he looked around. The warmth, which had vanished from the broken brush in her hand, fluttered in her stomach again. Wukong gave her a wink

"As to who you are…heh, I've been asked that question time and time again, all by beings far scarier than you, thinking they could lord themselves over the unfortunate, and do you know what I said to them?"

He leaned closer to Sophia and a shiver went up Taylor's spine at the sight of his bared teeth and upturned smile.

"It didn't matter. They all went down in the end, proving themselves weaklings."

Emma's breath hitched and Wukong slammed Sophia into the wall, holding her just like she did to Taylor. While Taylor thought she should be concerned at a cape being so rough with minors, she made a crop harvest, weighed the grains and surveyed the ground, and found that her field was fresh out of fucks to give.

"So why don't we break our little delusions and start playing nice? You and your little troupe of tiger-eyed scavengers apologize to young Taylor for inconveniencing her, and I'll apologize for my roughness?" His tone was so polite it was mocking, just like Emma's. He tightened his grip on her shirt and Sophia choked on air. Quivering ran through Taylor's body as she attempted to process the whole situation, and sheer catharsis paralyzed her to the ground. This was…she had no words. It was something she didn't even consider anymore in her wildest fantasies. If she could snap out of her shock and laugh, she wouldn't know if it was from relief or insanity.

But why was his gaze flickering to her head? That panel above them hadn't collapsed in years, not that the school or Blackwell would fix it.

"That way the scales will gain balance, and we can all go on our merry way. Or is that too much for your brutish little mind to comprehend?"

As Wukong tightened his grip, Sophia's breathing grew more and more erratic. He wasn't choking her, but the way he was pressing her body against the wall did not look gentle in the slightest. Her eyes, once so puffed up with superiority, were displaying naked fear and rage, in the very position she was held in a moment ago. By now, half of the floor seemed to gather and even a teacher had come out. Being the useless adult that he was, he stared with a hung jaw and didn't bother to do anything else. The Asian kids looked downright eager, and Taylor remembered that the Asian district was where Wukong was known to haunt. They must've seen him more than anyone else here.

Still, what was he even doing here? There was no way he came just for her.

"I am not hearing an apology. Did you go deaf?"

Emma tried to speak up, but Madison, of all people, held her back and hissed at her. Yeah, nobody wanted to fuck with a cape, and she had to recognize him.

Then, Sophia lowered her head and mumbled.

"Hm, what was that?" Wukong asked and put a hand to his ear. "These ears haven't aged well, and I think the interested parties would like to hear your words. Come on, speak up. You have nothing to hide anymore, yes?"

Sophia's eyes widened again and he pulled back, no doubt ready to slam her into the wall again. One of the teachers (why for her?) swallowed and took a step forward, but Wukong slammed Sophia back as her arms trembled -

And she faded through his fingers in a dark haze.

No.

Her tormentor stumbled backward and scrambled up from the floor, total panic overriding her features. Wukong stared at the girl and gasped so loudly that no one could mistake it for genuine.

"Hark, little ones! This Old Sun has found the reason for this brutish female's superiority!"

But it made so much sense. That's why they let her do whatever she wanted.

"Do you have any idea what you just did?" Sophia hissed and reached for her pocket, the black haze still surrounding her. The stares were directed at Sophia and the whispers began to run rampant.

Wukong tapped his finger on his chin and nodded enthusiastically. "I revealed the true colors of a she-thug and her minions to the world and tore open your veil of superiority. Am I missing anything?"

The teachers, the principal, Emma…they were so confident because they knew.

Taylor's throat began to clog, and her knees finally gave in. Everything shattered as each piece slid into the puzzle.

They wouldn't bend for any regular cape, then the PRT would come gunning. The only reason no one came…is because all of them knew.

There was muffled shouting, and she thought she saw Wukong turn blue or white for a moment. Banging, a yell of pain, that didn't matter. Her mind was racing like never before, and the thumping in her head grew louder and stronger.

Kids like us can't be heroes. Ward first, then heroes. And there's only one Ward who can phase like that.

She felt fingernails digging into her skull. Her hair blocked whatever was left of her vision, and everything crumbled away as the memory of a photoshoot on TV and snippets on PHO formed the last, neatly carved piece.

A female Ward that could phase through objects.

Sophia is a cape. Sophia is a Ward. Shadow Stalker can phase through objects. Sophia Hess just phased through his hands. Sophia Fucking Hess is  Shadow Stalker .

Of fucking course. Nobody wanted to mess with the PRT, the heroes who defeated the villains. So what if she was a bully? So what if she and Emma ruined her life?

Sophia mattered. Taylor didn't. Why should the poor little girl who lost her mother matter? Compared to a  hero , who needed a punching bag, why should she matter?

Taylor never mattered. Taylor never -

The void was endless. A sea of stars scattered across infinity. Planets above and below, deathworlds and paradises, so grand and majestic.

Dust specks compared to the…thing before her.

Words could not do it justice. Vast, incomprehensibly so. A human is vast to an ant, a mountain is vast to a human, and a galaxy is vast to a star. None of them came close. Its body, trailing so far behind it, was an endless river of glass and light. It shrunk and grew, a thin line one moment, then the next replacing the void itself, even subsuming her pathetic, meaningless form. Everywhere and nowhere at once. The glass along its body spun, morphed and warped in endless ways, forming shapes so fast and incomprehensible they blurred into one another, before breaking apart again. They echoed stories in the silence of space, of blood, fire, and death. Epochs and sagas, just one could fill every library in the world, gone in the blink of an eye and replaced by the next.

They fell, like the scales of a snake, down through the void and the ocean of suns. Innumerable as grains of sand on every beach. Comets that hovered in existence in their grandeur and sped faster than light in an instant, leaving trails of the cosmos in their wake. One flew right toward her, growing in size until it shadowed the continent below her. An amorphous asteroid of glass that could wipe out all life, falling down, down, down until it collided -

Cease.

The golden hand was as immaterial as the glass, an insignificant speck before it. Yet it held it back, even as the skyscraping needle touched her forehead. Ethereal voices chanting in a tongue unknown, yet every syllable was transcendent.

This mind is not yours to take.

Her gaze flitted to the side. An incandescent form, blazing with aureate fire. A mane of fur and pointed ears under a twin-feathered crown, resembling an insect. Clawed hands and feet, garbed in armor so rich and fine. A long tail, swishing back and forth, protruded from its rear.

Whatever you are, whatever form you take, dissuade yourself of foolish notions.

The scale's form fluctuated and a spike both thinner than a needle and wider than the Nile shot toward her. Another hand stopped it with the same ease, right as it touched her eyes. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak. Only stare at the chronicle unfolding.

A rainstorm of glass descended, sprouting from that paradoxical shard. Blotting out the stars and shadowing the planet, all reeling toward her.

I have spoken once, apparition. I will not repeat myself.

A gong rang through the empty air. Heat and fire enveloped the void, yet she remained unharmed. Her heart shrank at the creature looming over her. The same ears, armor, and tail, only its legs reached the earth below and its head pierced the atmosphere. A radiant halo encircled the titanic body. His arms were in the thousands, sprouting from its back and clad in gold, reaching out impossible distances and grabbing every single drop, directed by three heads, arranged on the neck in a circle, facing all angles.

No battle or war in history could compare.

I do not know your reason for existence. Yet I deny it all the same. You, with no place above and below, to latch onto mortal minds. So I ask: whence do you hail from? What is thy purpose in creation?

The needles spun, drilling into immutable flesh. He bellowed a challenge, and the chorus crescendoed, both chanting and shrieking. Every drop was broken or grabbed, and the drums rocked the stars from their orbits. The scale shimmered in an iris of colors she didn't even know could exist, with more images dancing across its eldritch structure.

Eternal am I, who faced down the heavens and stared into samadhi. So vast you appear, yet so small from the whole. Begone, and I shall spare you.

Red. Darker than blood. A black dot, a mere flaw at first glance, appeared, flying at her. Another arm swatted it aside. The stopped needles only needed the slightest push to break her skin.

One needle branched. A hand grabbed it, so resplendent it blinded her. But the tip jutted out again, bathed in that heavenly flame. Right between the eyes.

You dare-!?

The world blurred, swirling into the horizon and leaving no trace. An epic forgotten within seconds.

A garden lies tranquil, filled with ponds and flowers. The song of birds and the trickling of water fills the air. A weeping tree casts rippling shadows on the emerald grass below. A man sat cross-legged on a polished stone. Serene is his bearing, unburdened by the world. More gold, fluttering around her.

What a gentle smile.

Om.

Ma.

Ni.

Pad.

Me.

Hum.

With those words, she knew pain.

The construct swept at him, and Sun Wukong blocked with his forearm. Golden light clashed against the stone limb for scant seconds before he forced it away. As the last of his ethereal cloud state returned to material form, he grimaced at the sight of the construct jutting out of the girl's back and carving up the wall behind her.

'This was…unexpected.' His Golden Eyes flared to life and focused on Taylor's head. Where there once was a faint wisp, now hovered a full apparition, ever-shifting and changing. He held himself back from advancing as it passed through the walls and floor, only to shrink on itself and repeat the motions. 'Yet it proves my assumptions were not far off. These wisps are chrysalises which spawn these apparitions, blooming when great sadness floods the heart to let the weeds of rage and hatred fester. A dangerous loop; emotion that fuels magic is not unheard of, but for emotion to birth magic…curses are borne similarly, and seldom are the results pleasant.'

Taylor's silent howl of despair didn't go unnoticed, and he only had a moment to comprehend before the wisp suddenly expanded. Despite warning himself not to repeat his attempt at interaction with the apparitions as he did with the false long, his limbs reacted before his mind could catch up. He closed his fist around the metamorphosing spirit but after that…

'There was a battle…a spirit, the likes of which I have never laid eyes upon…the girl was there too, and then…' Wukong pinched the bridge of his nose and snorted. 'Ten hells, what are these creatures? Such chaos and disjointed structure…how can they even exist!?'

He stared at his hand and let it flicker into an ethereal state. 'Even the immaterial planes follow certain rules, laws of nature that are shared by all of them. I felt none of those in that vision. Those attacks…'

Words failed him as he closed his eyes and tried to recall the battle. 'Gah, the images are blurry. Even now, the colors are fading from the canvas. The result of my haphazard attempt at intervention.'

He raised his head and directed his gaze to the hall. The children had chosen the path of least resistance and fled from the scene at the moment of Taylor's…awakening. The only ones to remain were the troupe which - and he would bet ten lifetimes' worth of fruit on it - helped instigate this incident. The red-haired one and her minion were huddled in the corner and clutching each other, fat tears marring their makeup as they alternated their stares between him, their victim, and the downed form of their compatriot.

'Mayhap I was a tad rougher than the norm. She is a child…but I am familiar with courtly antics, and the lengths people will go when they feel invincible. She has the makings of a warrior, ' The brutish one's apparition, resembling a faceless cloak and hood, its fabric wreathed in shadow, hovered above her and inky clouds swirled around them, alternating at speeds of tempests. Fortunately, any gales would only be felt in the immaterial plane, and she was most certainly surprised when his Cloud Step bypassed their veil and his palm struck her neck.

'Bah, 'twas only a tap. She'll wake up after a good sleep. If she needs another reminder not to prey on her peers, this Old Sun will oblige her desperate request.'

Two brave cubs peeked from behind their doors, and they soon turned to Taylor, whose constructs were stuck in the wall. They sent each other fearful gazes, no doubt ruminating on their fellow student's new…circumstances.

'I might have acted too hastily. In front of such a crowd…there will be consequences for her.' He slowly approached her, and while the constructs shimmered, they didn't attack him. He gently poked the girl on the shoulder, and the constructs broke free of their trappings and splayed themselves. They resembled the wings of an insect, each ending in a pointed slant. There were two pairs, with the larger pair originating from the shoulder blades spanning further than his outstretched arms and a smaller pair a hand's length below them, with only half the wingspan. Instead of a membrane, the wings appeared composed of tiny, scale-like shapes that shimmered with her shallow breathing.

'How much of this newfound power is hers and how much is due to the spirit's…blessing? Does it influence her thoughts, or is it content to merely observe?'

He knelt down and stared at her face, smiling sardonically at her half-lidded eyes and matted hair.

'To withstand this grief and remain awake, even if briefly, after such a drastic transformation…she has spirit, this one. Greater men's wills have crumbled in the face of similar circumstances. No, her hasty rescue I don't regret, only my lack of self-control.'

He stared at her wings and noticed motes of light gathering around them like fireflies. Wukong almost dismissed them, deeming them a side-effect of the awakening until they entered the constructs, and travelled down their length and into Taylor's prone body. An aura flickered around her, and Wukong felt his mouth open.

'Hold on…was that…?' He grabbed a mote and held it in his palm, feeling its candlelight warmth. 'Amitabha…is this my doing?'

"Don't move!"

Wukong sharply turned to his right and blinked. Standing in the hallway, in front of the brutish girl's body, was the blue-armored 'hero' he'd spied on, pointing a metallic spear at him and his mouth set in a thin line.

"Step away from the girl."

The hero shifted his stance and fully hid the girl from sight. Right, there were younger heroes accompanying the adults the time he spied on them. Disciples, no doubt about it. But wasn't this one's disciple a young lad?

No matter.

Wukong slowly rose and crossed his arms, fully focusing on the man. "Why would I do that?"

"I said, step away." The hero repeated, an undercurrent of anger audible. Most people would have complied, Wukong had to give the man that. Alas, Wukong was as far from 'most people' as the heavens were to the bowels of the underworld.

"You have some nerve, issuing demands from me when your disciple instigated this whole mess and attacked this poor girl."

"Disciple?" the hero muttered, his expression hidden behind his visor, before his frown returned. "Then you admit to attacking and unmasking a Ward in front of civilians?"

"Well, there was no mask to remove, but it's apparent she has learned no restraint, and I am not partial to sorcerers who abuse their status to prey on innocent children for their amusement." Wukong flicked his finger at the hero accusingly. "As her master, the fault lies with you as much as her."

He saw the hero tighten the hold on his spear. "What are you implying?" he asked with rising anger, albeit still restrained.

"I imply nothing, only state the truth."

Warbling noises and the red-and-blue lights from the city guard's - police, Wukong reminded himself - metal carts blared and shone through the broken window, accompanied by the calls and shouts of people. Once again, he had to give them credit for their response time, much faster than any city watch he encountered…though considering the current circumstances, he wasn't sure if it was praiseworthy.

"Even if what you're saying is true, you went too far with your response," said the hero. "If you want to clear this up, I suggest you accompany me to PRT headquarters."

The corner of Wukong's mouth twitched. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I'll place you under arrest for assault, reckless endangerment, and damaging public property. At least."

Wukong threw his head back and laughed, which only served to infuriate the hero further. "Oh, that is rich! You do not lack courage, at least! I admit, I have seen you ride around the city in that two-wheeled contraption of yours, and my interest is piqued. If you wish to receive a lesson from this Old Sun, then whom is this monkey to refuse?"

He reached up to his ear and the hero shifted his legs to a combat stance. His spear whirred in the air, and Wukong grew intrigued. A magic weapon? Or was it another child of machinery?

His priorities shifted again when he spotted Taylor falling to the ground. In a flash, he stopped her descent and held her by the shoulders as she let out a soft groan. The golden wings on her back began to disintegrate, flaking off section by section until they'd completely vanished, leaving a torn jacket's back as the only sign of their presence. A mote of light passed by him and danced on an unseen wind. Taylor's eyes had closed shut, and sweat coated her pale forehead.

'This day took quite the toll on her,' Wukong thought as he adjusted his grip around her waist and shoulders and gently hefted her up. 'Resilient as she may be, I fear for her mental state should she remain. Those above her will demand questions, the heroes will take offense at the damage to one of their own, and with witnesses to her awakening…'

A bad situation all around.

The hero slightly lowered his spear but took a step forward. "Put the girl down, she's a witness and needs medical treatment."

"And leave her in your tender mercies?" Wukong shot back. "While I doubt all your disciples have sullied their reputation like the brutish one has, I shall exercise caution and take responsibility for her recovery. As matters stand, my trust is a treasure you have yet to earn."

Wukong turned to the wall with the broken window and approached it while carrying Taylor, ignoring Armsmaster's repeated calls to desist. When he was within arm's reach of the wall, he pulled back a fist and struck. Rubble flew outwards and exposed the hall to the elements and the lights of the police cars encircling the school. Joining their ranks were black cars wider and thicker than their metallic brethren with the letters 'PRT' painted on their sides. The men below looked up in shock and pointed their thunder-weapons at him while screaming various orders. 'Hm, what did Peizhi-xiansheng call them again?'

"This is Armsmaster, hold your fire!" he heard the man yell. "Cape is extremely dangerous and has a civilian hostage! Containment foam only!"

'Armsmaster? Yes, that fits his apparition well. A hostage? Hah, for shame! Twisting my words already?'

Gathering his breath, Wukong clutched Taylor tightly and leapt through the hole and onto the roof past the institute's boundaries. Not stopping for a moment, he bounded across the rooftops and away from the school, savoring the panicked cries fading into the distance behind him. At least the girl didn't vomit at speeds faster than a horse. Why was his master chosen for an arduous journey when he had motion sickness, Wukong never found out. He clutched the girl's head to his chest and shielded her from the sharp winds as they approached the coastline. Spotting the familiar dark silhouettes of ships in the distance, he changed his direction and kept bouncing until he landed on a green hill, the same one he rested on after his triumph over the false long.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he sat himself down and took in the sight of the ruined metal ships floating near the coast. In contrast to the scene he fled from, filled with confusion and pandemonium, quiet reigned in the scrapyard below, with only the calls of gulls and the rolling of the sea to disturb it. The sun had begun its descent, dyeing the sky in a vermillion cloak.

He couldn't help but chuckle. 'What an eventful day this has been…once more, this Old Sun is filled with questions and answers. It feels like a dance at this point.'

A shifting motion on his lap pulled his attention to the girl he had brought along. She was latched onto his charred robes and fully resting on his crossed lap, whimpering and moaning as perspiration covered her pale face. Carefully removing his arm from her waist and holding up her head, Wukong looked her up and down and grimaced at the rising heat against his palm.

"Quite the revelation you have endured, little one," he said softly. "What karma have you gathered in your past life to throw these ordeals at you?"

Predictably, Taylor only curled in on herself in response. A shiver ran up her body and Wukong gripped her tightly.

"Peace, child. You are safe, away from those who would do you harm. Listen to the sea's song, and let it wash your troubles away as the tide washes the shells."

The Monkey King gently placed his free palm on her forehead and closed his eyes.

'I am no healer, and there are no materials in arms reach…hmm, there are no physical injuries to speak of beyond a scratch or two… this should do for now.'

Qi gathered in his palms, and a golden haze spread throughout her body…faster than he anticipated. Within a minute, her breathing grew steadier and the heat had dulled. Pulling his arm back, he saw a calmness had settled over her features, yet a touch of unrest remained.

The girl was fine for the time being…but what now?

'Going for walks might be a tad difficult for the coming days. I shall have to watch my toes. But what of this one's fate? She mentioned a father, but I do not know if it is safe to bring her to him right now. This Armsmaster witnessed her powers, as well as her fellow students…what misfortune would befall her if she returned? Hm, troublesome. Yet I said I would bear responsibility for her recovery, and I do not intend to go back on my word.'

Another chuckle rolled from his mouth. "And all those times I complained about rescuing Master Tang or the pig…I guess this is my karma. Regardless, 'twould be an injustice if I ignored her opinion, so waiting for her to wake up is the best step from here."

He gathered the girl in his arms again and slowly stood up. As he stared at the horizon and felt the sun's rays caress his fur, the smile returned. 'Whatever the case, this Old Sun has a feeling your life will grow exciting from here on out, just as mine has. We both have questions that need answering, and who knows?

…maybe a girl and an old monkey could help each other out.'

Chapter Text

The rich Tang ruler issued a decree,

Deputing Sanzang to seek the source of Dhyana.

He bent his mind to find the Dragon Den,

With firm resolve to climb the Vulture Peak.

Through how many states did he roam beyond his own?

Through clouds and hills he passed ten thousand times.

He now leaves the throne to go to the West;

He'll keep law and faith to reach the Great Void

We shall now tell you about Tripitaka, who, on the third day before the fifteenth of the ninth month in the thirteenth year of the period Zhenguan, was sent off by the Tang emperor and many officials from outside the gate of Chang'an. For a couple of days his horse trotted without ceasing, and soon they reached the Temple of the Law Gate. The abbot of that temple led some five hundred monks on both sides to receive him and took him inside. As they met, tea was served, after which a vegetarian meal was presented. Soon after the meal, dusk fell, and thus

Shadows moved to the Star River's nearing pulse;

The moon was bright without a speck of dust.

The wild geese called from the distant sky,

And washing flails beat from nearby homes.

As birds returned to perch on withered trees,

The Dhyana monks conversed in their Sanskrit tones.

On rush mats placed upon a single bunk,

They sat until halfway through the night.

- Journey to the West, chapter 13

If anyone asked Armsmaster if he was an emotional man, he would answer in the negative, and they'd agree. It served him well and kept him composed, and as a Tinker hero in the Protectorate, composure was key. He preferred to do his tinkering in the seclusion of his lab, where he could devote the entirety of his efforts to his creations. Improving his gear, crafting better weapons…emotions were unneeded for these acts. While others would despair at setbacks, he'd persevere, adapt, and continue his work. If you keep a cool head, you can solve any problem. A mantra he repeated to himself every day after his Trigger.

"The PR department is flooding my phone with calls, and I have officials and news crews seconds away from breaking into the building and tearing out tongues. I've had to cancel three different meetings, Renick is scrambling up and down this rig putting out fires, and I'm this close to declaring a state of emergency. I'm going to ask this just this once. What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On?"

Times like these were solid proof of how useful this mindset was. Otherwise, he would have driven either his fist or his head through the nearest wall several times over by now.

"The short version? A disaster on almost every level."

Director Piggot bit her lip as she pressed her fingers to her knuckles so tightly they looked ready to sink into her hand. The Protectorate heroes sitting around bore worried looks, glancing at either him or the director. Even Triumph was present, despite his transitional status between a Ward and a full Protectorate member. He would help deliver the news to the rest of the Wards after the meeting.

"I think we'd appreciate the long version," said Miss Militia. "Maybe that will explain the growing riots outside our doors."

At the director's nod, Colin inhaled and typed a command into his gauntlet. "A little more than an hour ago, we received multiple calls from the BBPD and civilians about a cape attack at Winslow High School. I was closest to the scene, so I moved to intercept."

Light filled the room as the main viewscreen flared to life with images of panicked students being directed out of the school by teachers, taken directly from his helmet camera. Despite the wave of teenagers gushing from the entrances, no signs of damage were present on the outside of the building beyond its dilapidated state.

"One of the teachers outside told me a cape had broken into the school and was attacking a student, so I called for PRT backup and headed inside. I went up to the floor of the attack and encountered the cape in question…along with this."

The feed changed, and the breath of everyone in the room hitched. A few feet away, down on one knee, was none other than Sun Wukong. A name that was slowly becoming synonymous with 'headache'. In front of him was a girl, likely a student, her face obscured by her long hair. Four golden wings were attached to her back and jutted out into the wall behind her. Through the high-quality audio processors, her faint breathing filled the room, tinged with the sound of crumbling. Yet it was neither the girl nor the monkey-faced cape that drew the majority of the heroes' shock; rather, it was the strewn black teenage girl lying before Armsmaster's feet.

"Is that…Stalker!?" Triumph stood up and stared with alarm at the now-paused feed.

The armored hero's mouth pressed into a grave line. "I confess, I couldn't formulate a clear picture of the situation at first, so I tried to defuse the tension by getting him away from the girls. This is what he had to say."

He unpaused the video, and the ensuing conversation played out, each word causing the director's jaw to clench tighter.

"You have some nerve, issuing demands from me when your disciple instigated this whole mess and attacked this poor girl."

"Disciple? Then you admit to attacking and unmasking a Ward in front of civilians?"

"Well, there was no mask to remove…"

"Holy fuck," whispered Velocity with wide eyes as the video continued. "Did he just…?"

"I'm pretty sure he did," Assault nodded, matching his expression. Piggot's phone rang, but she slammed the mute button and kept staring intently at the screen. The other heroes followed suit, and their microexpressions and tense muscles betrayed their understanding of the gravity of Wukong's act.

"After his confession, I attempted to contain the situation by offering to escort him to PHQ, but he laughed me off and prepared to enter hostilities."

Velocity tilted his head as Wukong quickly stopped the cape girl from falling over and cradled her. "Who is she?"

"According to the few testimonies I've gathered, her name is Taylor Hebert. I will return to her in a moment." Armsmaster took another breath and resumed. "I asked him to let of the girl so I could send her for treatment, but he refused again. I ordered the PRT troopers present to advance, but he took her and left the building before they had a chance to act."

"Yeesh, talk about a dramatic exit," muttered Assault as the monkey smashed open a hole in the wall and leaped through it with the girl in his hands. With the press of a button, the feed froze on the image of Wukong landing on a rooftop.

"By the time I called Velocity to give chase, I lost him. I ordered the PRT troops to search within a ten-block radius just in case. After that, I stayed to help with the relief efforts and coordinate with the police. Shadow Stalker is on her way for treatment at Brockton General, but she should be fine. From my initial diagnosis and from the paramedic on-site, she was merely knocked unconscious."

Militia exhaled in relief and nodded. "Good to hear. I'll pay her a visit as soon as she wakes up."

"I'll join you," added Triumph. "We can figure out a plan to detain Sun Wukong after that. We can't let this attack go unnoticed."

Instead of replying in the affirmative, Armsmaster's frown grew deeper. The heroes noticed his silence and slowly turned to him, their unease breaking through whatever facade of calmness they tried to maintain.

"There was something else, was there?" Piggot stated, her eyes narrowed and teeth bared with high restraint. "Otherwise, it wouldn't feel like the whole building is about to collapse on us."

A slow breath escaped his nostrils, and he felt as though his gauntlets had tripled in weight. Not one part of this situation was ideal - hell, it was a disaster no matter which way one examined it - but the PRT could still maintain a semblance of control if the events were limited to just what his helmet camera showed.

If only life were that easy. And life went through a meat grinder in Brockton Bay.

"I'm afraid the director is correct." He tapped another button on his gauntlet. "Not long after, I was forwarded an amateur video that was uploaded online. The poster is likely a student who was present at the scene before I was called in to help."

The screen lit up again, this time with Wukong grappling a startled Sophia Hess. Next to them was Taylor Hebert, lying wide-eyed on the floor. Students were gathered in the background, staring at the scene with all the excitement high schoolers could muster. A redheaded girl spoke to Wukong, saying it was a misunderstanding, before Wukong laughed and insulted her. Armsmaster frowned at Sophia's attempted threat; he understood her position wasn't ideal, to say the least. Did she not understand the situation she was in? Better to lower tensions than threaten a known and dangerous cape, especially when she wasn't in costume. He saw Triumph gripping the table and Militia's eyes narrow as Wukong slammed her against the wall and spoke in his raspy tone.

"That way, the scales will gain balance, and we can all go on our merry way. Or is that too much for your brutish little mind to comprehend?"

"What does he think he's doing?" hissed Triumph with disbelief. "In front of kids and in a school to boot?"

"When exactly did you get the call?" Battery asked, prompting him to check the timestamp in his helmet display.

"The call was routed to me 95 seconds after it was made…so my estimate is around this moment in the video. When Shadow Stalker's civilian name was mentioned, I doubled-timed it."

Wukong pulled back to slam Stalker again…and a hush settled over the room as she phased through his arms. This was the part that caused an icy cold to wash over Colin's bones.

Stalker phased again and turned to run, but Wukong suddenly turned translucent and dashed over to strike her on the neck, instantly knocking her out, all within the span of a second.

"Since when could he do that!?" Battery exclaimed.

"This wasn't anything he showed before," muttered Colin. "Breaker three - no, four. A shadow state like Stalker's that can interact with other Breaker powers. Trump maybe?"

Whispers broke out in the video's background, and just as it looked like it couldn't get worse, bright lights exploded from the Hebert girl's form and caused the video to saturate. A faint wisp darted toward the light, but then the feed blurred, and the last few seconds showed students running down the hallway, including the phone holder.

The video cut to black, and the silence reigned even stronger. Despite his composure, Armsmaster could feel his teeth grinding unconsciously.

"You weren't kidding," Assault weakly muttered, eyes still on the screen. "Total disaster."

Piggot remained silent, her facade a Roman statue. Even so, her lack of words spoke volumes.

Triumph violently rose from his seat and looked utterly murderous, even through his helmet. He barely took three steps when Piggot halted him in his tracks.

"Sit down, Triumph."

He whirled at the director, his hands grasping at air. "Sit down? He outed Stalker as a cape! Not only that, he did it inside her school, in front of her friends! No one does that! And thanks to that video, the whole city is gonna know! Not just the gangs and the Nazis - every criminal who has an axe to grind with us is going to come gunning for her head!"

"Yes, we saw that," she bit out, her fingers tightening over her knuckles. "But the last thing we want is to act like idiots and pour more fuel on this firestorm, so sit down."

He bit his lip, and for a worrying moment, Armsmaster thought he would have to physically restrain him from leaving. Thankfully, the teenager took a deep breath and slowly returned to his seat.

"Our top priority now is to mitigate the fallout. I need interviews with everyone at the scene and a full timeline of the incident. Teachers, the principal, students, the redhead who spoke to Wukong - they're all on the table. He said Hess attacked Hebert? Full investigation into her, her handler, and anything that stinks even the slightest. I want to know exactly why a cape thought it was a good idea to barge into a school and attack a student, and why said student thought it was a good idea to bully her classmate."

"You don't actually believe him?" Triumph asked, looking back and forth between the screen and the director. "I mean, Stalker can be a bit…aggressive, I won't lie, and she's had problems before, but I don't think she'd actually bully someone! If anything, this guy's even more suspicious than what he's accusing her of!"

"Oh?" Piggot raised a heavy eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

"The guy kicks Glory Girl and Lung to the curb, then muscles in on a Ward? It's a power play. He's shown off what he can do, established a territory, and now he's challenging anyone who wants to stop him. What better way to do that than by attacking a PRT cape?"

Armsmaster pursed his lips as he mulled over Triumph's words, which drew narrowed eyes from the rest. While there was logic to what he was saying, and he agreed with him on the fact that this was a rather blatant power move, there were rather noticeable holes in his theory.

Fortunately, the director saw those holes as well.

"You're forgetting one thing: Nothing in the video proves Wukong knew about Hess and her identity as Shadow Stalker. Hess used her powers while fully aware that people would see her. That wouldn't normally be a problem; she felt she was in danger, and she reacted accordingly," said Piggot. She nodded to Armsmaster, and he replayed the footage. Wukong was antagonistic to Hess, yes, but he didn't spot anything that could hint at his knowing of Shadow Stalker. Anything overt, at least. His lie detection software didn't go off, although he wasn't sure of the cause. Was Wukong really truthful, or did his simian features fail to trigger the program? He'd dissect the footage down to the millisecond in his lab later.

"The issue is the accusation itself. I know her record, and the accusation of bullying isn't far off from how she's behaved recently: excessive force against non-capes is just one example. I tolerated it this far because she got results, but if that behavior led her to this, then she's in hot water. If anything, I'm tempted to read her the riot act myself, but that can come later. We need a full grasp of the situation if there's any chance of minimizing the blow. Especially since it led to what looks like a very public Trigger Event. Am I wrong?"

Armsmaster shook his head. Not only was Shadow Stalker outed as a cape, but so was Taylor Hebert. Even if people didn't recognize her right away from the video, gossip and hearsay would do the job.

Piggot pinched the bridge of her pudgy nose and sighed. "Fantastic. Has the girl's family been informed?"

"The only relative listed is her father, Daniel Hebert, head spokesman of the Dockworkers Union. I sent over a PRT squad to the Union HQ for protection, and they're waiting to give him the rundown."

"Good. First thing you do after this is head over to him. You were the only cape on the scene, so you'll have a better time than anyone. Explain the situation and the need for his cooperation. Maybe we can help smooth this over before the Union decides to involve itself."

At his nod, Piggot continued. "In the meantime, we ask BBPD to send an APB looking for the Hebert girl. I don't want another freshly Triggered cape with some kind of beef with a Ward running loose." Assault opened his mouth, only for her to swiftly cut him off. "This isn't an arrest; I want the police to notify us the moment they catch sight of her so we can bring her to PHQ quietly. That way she won't run headfirst into the arms of a gang, and maybe we can clear some of this mess up with her and the father. Militia, the moment Stalker is awake, she is to stay within HQ boundaries and not talk to anyone beyond this room and the Wards unless I give the explicit go-ahead. I want her monitored at all times and her family in protective custody. That should deter the paparazzi and any lynch mobs trying to bite off a pound of flesh."

"Done," replied Militia. "She'll try to sneak out, you know that?"

Piggot gave her a thoroughly unamused look. "Either she stays put in the base, or I help her get secured in a cell. Tell her I'm not picky. This goes for the other Wards as well. I don't want them getting any funny ideas."

At Militia's unperturbed stare, she continued. "Now we need to address the general reaction. The PR department will have to work overtime to see what parts we'll have to confirm, what we can spin, and what parts we can hide from the public. Which, to be frank, isn't much for the last two. That video has the potential to deal us more damage than any failed gang bust or cape fight. I might have to ask Glenn Chambers for help." She uttered the name with venom. The feeling was mutual with Colin; the PRT's head of image was a…grating individual. "And we'll have to deal with the Youth Guard on top of that, those uptight…" she inhaled and hissed sharply.

"I'm more concerned about the E88," Velocity said. "A black teenager who happens to be a Ward, accused of bullying a white girl? They'll have a field day, parades and all. I'm surprised we haven't seen one of Kaiser's rallying speeches yet."

"If he does release something, he'll do it by tomorrow at the latest, but there is a sliver of chance he won't," Armsmaster replied. He didn't look up from his typing, even as the other heroes looked at him questioningly. "Mind you, the odds are still low; this is too much of a golden opportunity for the Empire to ignore, but the whole intervention is thanks to Sun Wukong, who is either of Chinese ethnicity or heavily influenced by Chinese culture. That puts a dent in any recruiting pitch Kaiser might plan, unless he wants to answer some awkward questions from his supporters."

"Isn't that a reach?" Assault frowned. "One, he might find a way to omit that fact, and two, he's a villain. Those don't usually care for opinions."

"Maybe, but we'll take what we can get at this point," Battery replied, holding her helmeted head in one hand, "and Kaiser has the other Empire capes to consider."

"Agreed. We're in full crisis mode now; one slip-up could cost us everything we've built over the past years. If you're not patrolling, then your asses are here helping to snuff out this clusterfuck."

Armsmaster nodded again and finished typing his notes. Tinkering in his lab would have to wait, but it was unavoidable. He was about to close his holographic keyboard, but instead hit one last button, and the screen flared to life. "Before we move out to our respective assignments, there is one final issue to address."

Even when he wasn't looking at a camera lens, that monkey still looked insufferable.

"What are your suggestions?"

If the hush from before was quiet, now it was deafening, layered with an ever-growing tension. Triumph bit his lip hard and struggled not to leap from his seat again. Piggot bared her teeth, and her nails almost dug into the wooden table. Colin didn't fault their reactions; if the blame for the disaster could be laid at anyone's feet, then Sun Wukong's were the first ones that came to mind.

"I want a warrant out for his arrest."

Colin and the heroes turned to the director all at once. Was she really going through this?

"The official reason is that he broke into a school and assaulted a minor, and kidnapped another one. But it's like you said, Triumph. He unmasked one of our Wards in public, and that cannot fly, no matter the reason. If we stay silent, every cape in Brockton Bay is going to attack both you and the Wards in your sleep. They'll think we've grown too soft, or that we'll start doing the same thing to villains. One way or another, they'll pick their reason and use it to escalate attacks against the PRT and the general populace."

"And it's not just the criminals inside the city we'll have to worry about," Militia whispered, her eyes widening with every word. "If there's enough incentive, we could have criminals from outside the city rushing in. Butcher might even send the Teeth from Boston to claim back old turf."

"And even if we wanted to, we can't return the favor to him because Wukong doesn't even have a mask," said Assault, and then he chuckled. "Not that it would do him any good. That tail is a dead giveaway."

Piggot sent him an unamused glare and focused on the picture of Wukong, leaning on the table and hiding her mouth behind steepled hands.

"Armsmaster, had Wukong chosen to engage in combat, how would you have fared?"

The armored hero rubbed his bearded chin in thought. "It's hard to say. If we're talking strictly about raw physical strength, he easily has one of the highest Brute ratings in the city. I'd rate him between five and six, as evidenced by his defeat of Glory Girl and Lung. But other than that…I still feel like we're not getting the full picture, or at least something we can properly use. The only full fight we have of him is against those ABB gangsters, and compared to the opponents I mentioned earlier, that was child's play."

He forced down the flush of rage as he remembered how Wukong mocked his halberd, as if some random cape knew anything about how much time and blood he poured into his weapon. The monkey was skilled, he acknowledged that much, but the insult stung deeper than he thought it would.

"Then you'd better go over every scrap of footage we have of this cape. We won't get caught off guard by his antics again." Director Piggot slammed her hands on the table and became the proverbial center of the room. "Do a full search of the city. Start with the Asian district and ask everyone who's seen or heard of Wukong walking around. We know it's his favorite haunt and he has a thing for entertaining the local children, so I'd bet a year's salary that's where he'll be hiding. Armsmaster, I assigned you this case first, so you'll remain in charge of it. Make it clear that there's no refusal; either he comes with us peacefully or in the back of a PRT van."

As she spoke, Armsmaster clenched his fists, a tingle rising up his spine. He'd wanted to find Wukong beforehand but was sidetracked with patrolling and putting out the fires after the cape's stunt with Lung. His earlier observations were spot on; Wukong's concerns for escalation and collateral damage were nonexistent, and if he kept it up, he'd end up doing more harm than good.

More than that, Wukong's actions gave them all a black eye that would take years to recover. Even in other cities, no one ever let a Ward's civilian identity get outed as a cape. If that happened, what would it say about the heroes mentoring them? Incompetent, they'd say. How can we trust him with more responsibilities if he can't protect his trainees?

No more. This time, the full might of the ENE PRT branch was coming after him, and he'd lead the charge. He needed to reach out to Dragon, see if she could spare more drones for the search. And when he found him, he'd show the monkey-man exactly how good he was with his halberd.

"Let me make one thing clear; our collective asses are on the firing block here. We're running two fronts - against the public and against the villains. We inspire the former and throw the latter into prison. We can't let either of them drag us down, or else this city goes kaput. We'll need full patrols, a press conference, and all PRT troops at full readiness if we want a chance of even starting to fix this mess. You'll have a lot on your plate, but it's necessary for now. But the moment you get the chance…"

She rose from her seat and pointed to the smiling image of the monkey.

"Find Sun Wukong!"

Of all the first impressions to receive when waking up in a strange place, the first one that came to Taylor's mind when she slowly opened her eyes was…ordinary.

Dark paint faded with age, a single ceiling lamp, and a small crack showed the wooden beams hidden beneath. She squinted at specks of dust flying against faint rays of crimson sunlight. Her palms twitched, and the sensation of linen pressed against them. A slight tilt downward revealed the thin blanket lying over her.

'Wha…what happened?'

Reaching groggily to her face, Taylor adjusted her glasses so they sat comfortably on the bridge of her nose. With a dried-out huff, she forced herself to sit upright and look around. The walls were in a similar state to the ceiling, with a layer of dust coating the length of the baseboard. A closed window hung behind her, letting the meagre sunlight through cracks in its shutters and right onto a featureless door.

'Emma, Sophia, Madison…they were all laughing at me…there was yelling…a lot of people…and something hit me…'

She tried to dig deeper and untangle the mental cobwebs, only to get a splitting headache as a reward for her efforts. Holding back a string of curses, Taylor shook her head and gripped the blanket tightly between her fingers.

'I-I was at school, yeah, in the hallway…then how did I get here?' She looked around the room again as confusion further muddled her dazed head. 'And where is 'here', really?'

Concern began to trickle into Taylor's mind. She had no idea what this place was, and her memories were scrambled. She checked under the covers, and to her relief, she was still wearing her clothes and jacket - even her shoes were still on her feet. A small comfort in a clearly concerning situation, but a comfort nonetheless.

'Still, Brockton Bay is the last city where you want to wake up in a stranger's house.' Her gaze settled on the door, and she felt her stomach twist. 'Okay, calm down, calm down. I should see what else is here…I mean, who'd even want to kidnap me?'

It wasn't the best idea at the moment, but it felt better than sitting around and waiting for…something to happen. Ignoring her body's protests, Taylor pushed herself up. With a measure of trepidation, she approached the door and pressed the handle, bracing for failure…only for it to give.

'Huh, unlocked? Barely closed even.'

The door creaked open, and she winced at the sharp noise, her body freezing up. After a few seconds of silence, she mustered her breath and fully pushed the door open. The hallway was bare, with plywood floors and more faded paint. Three doors lined each side of the hallway, with a picture hanging between two of them. The entrance in front of her was half-open, revealing a white-tiled floor reminiscent of a bathroom. A staircase lay on the opposite end of the hall, extending upwards and downwards.

Taylor lifted her glasses and rubbed her eyes. 'Okay, so there's no exit…this is getting better and better. Maybe downstairs?'

She was about to take one more step when her nose picked up an unusual fragrance. It wasn't overpowering like the expensive perfumes Madison boasted, but instead it smelled herbal…and was that whistling from a kettle?

It came from the opening right of the staircase, and more sunlight streamed through it.

Wetting her chapped lips, Taylor felt her mental impulses warring. Alarm bells were going off in her head, if only because of how peculiar the situation was. Trying to recall what happened to her still hurt her head, and for a moment, she envisioned herself as a fish, swimming towards a juicy worm on the end of a hook. On the other hand, her throat was drier than a desert, and the smell was incredibly enticing. The last time she ate was the crappy lunch at the cafeteria, and…how long ago was that? How long was she out of it?

'I'm nuts…yeah, that's the only explanation. Desperate too.'

Taking a deep breath, Taylor slowly walked toward the open door, bracing for whoever or whatever was lying in wait behind it. She reached the side and peered over to see a small kitchen with -

What.

Her eyes felt like popping out of her skull. Were her hands less clammy, she would've lost her grip on the wall.

A completely justifiable reaction to Sun Wukong, clad in ashen robes, sitting on a chair and being poured a cup of tea by an unknown man.

"Qīn'ài de zhǔrén jiā, zhè guǒrán shì chá xiāng sì yì, qìnrénxīnpí! Hēle júhuā chá, wǒ zhè lǎo gǔtou kě zhēn nuǎnhuo qǐláile." [1]

The memories, held by a thick fog mere minutes ago, began flashing before her eyes in HD.

"Xiè la, kě wǒ háishì bù míngbái nǐ wèishéme zhème xǐhuān wǒ de chá. Sū-jiě kěyǐ yòng gèng chà de huā pào chū gèng hǎo de chá." [2]

The taunting, being pushed down, the brush - oh god, the stupid little brush - Sophia's poisonous barbs dripping in her ear, her superiority so obvious now that she knows the big and ugly truth, and then…

And then…

"Húshuō a lǎoxiōng! Lǎo sūn bù míngbái nǐ wèishéme zài shìshí miànqián hái yào jiānchízhe qiānxū!" [3]

He saved her. Sun Wukong, the monkey-faced cape who beat up Lung for dinner, saved her.

The monkey-man turned to the door and his smile grew into a joyous grin. "Ah, it seems we have an honored guest, awoken from her well-earned slumber!" He waved at Taylor and patted the table. "Come, come, sit and drink with us!"

True enough, a spare chair was parked next to the small table, and an empty cup rested on the spot in front of it.

She turned to the man, who stared at her with visible surprise before offering her a small, yet shaky, smile of his own. He was an adult, no doubt about it, with cropped black hair and slightly chubby cheeks, and stood a head or two above her, holding an old teapot.

Her legs trembled, and she forced herself to swallow. Her mind was almost totally blank, focused only on that innocuous teacup on the table. If she allowed herself to think any further, she'd throw up. So, with monumental effort, Taylor detached herself from the wall and shuffled over to the offered seat, never taking her eyes off her two…hosts, she supposed. Once she sat down, the Asian man poured a good portion of tea into her cup. The floral scent from before hit her sinuses full-force, and she was briefly reminded of her mother's old teas, the kind her dad only used during her birthday. It was…homey, for lack of a better term.

Taylor gingerly grasped the teacup in both hands, letting the warmth travel through her palms. It was a tad stinging, but she discovered she didn't care much. The hardness of the ceramic, the scent of the tea, the warmth flowing into her body; it was grounding, reassuring her that what she remembered maybe wasn't a dream…with all the good and shittiness that came with it.

Holding back the shaking in her arms, Taylor took a small sip of the tea. The liquid scalded her tongue at first, but the floral and mild sweetness of the tea quickly washed down her throat.

"Um…thanks," she said, though it came out as more of a squeak. Was she that parched?

"So she speaks! I must say this Old Sun has had quite an interesting day with you, my dear," Wukong chuckled and took a sip from his cup. "I am thankful that my paltry treatment helped you. My dear host was quite nervous when he glimpsed your condition, but I assured him you were a strong one."

"Host…?" she asked, turning to the man.

"Hm? Amitabha, where are my manners?" Wukong then twirled his palm and gestured at the man. "This is my dear friend, Peizhi Luo. He owns the humble shop below us and has agreed to host me during my stay in your fair city."

"Oh…you're staying here?" She kept her stare on the man - no, Peizhi, she'd have to get it right - and tilted her head.

'I don't know what I expected for his…hideout…But I don't think anyone guessed that he was staying in someone else's home.'

"Yes, and he has been ever the gracious host. I did not wish to disturb him with your condition at first and asked him for the nearest healer, but he acquiesced and allowed me to place you in my room as you recovered.

'So he brought me here from Winslow…but why? How? When was this!?'

Slotting the new information into her messed-up timeline, she dipped her head while clutching the teacup. "Um, thanks again…for the bed. And the tea. I'm sorry if this bothered you."

Peizhi blinked and shook his head. "It's- It's nothing. I admit, I was really confused when he brought you here, but when he told me a little about your situation, I couldn't just ignore it."

Taylor goggled at his admission. He didn't know her; she was a total stranger, even if she was brought here by a cape who he'd been hosting. Why would he let her stay here?

"And with our help, you are awake and hale! Although…" Wukong leaned forward and rested his chin on propped knuckles, his tone dropping into a gentle rasp. "My fears are paltry compared to the turmoil which you endured. How do you fare right now, young one?"

Taking another sip of tea to try and calm her fraying nerves, Taylor bit her lip as the mind-numbing revelation played once again in her mind's eye.

"...it all happened, didn't it? It wasn't a dream." Or a nightmare; she hadn't decided which one fit better. "Sophia…was a hero all this time?"

Wukong snorted in derision. "Hmph, anyone who takes their frustration out on the helpless and undeserving hardly deserves any such title." He then sighed. "Alas, that was no dream."

Her breath hitched as she lowered her head. Tears slowly welled up in her eyes as the trembling, momentarily alleviated by the tea, returned without mercy.

"They knew…all this time, they knew…" she whispered. "The p-principal, th-the teachers, E-Emma…they all knew." A near-hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. "No wonder no one stepped up. Emma b-blindsided th-them, turned everyone in the school against me, and fucking Shadow Stalker herself p-probably took care of anyone who spoke up."

Taylor's grip on the teacup tightened, and the tears began trickling down her cheeks.

"It didn't matter what happened to me. Emma could say she was friends with a hero, Blackwell could say she hosted and taught a hero. All they had to do was m-make me their…punching bag." She bit out the last words with such force she thought blood would spurt from her mouth.

Goosebumps tingled along her skin, and a stinging sensation prickled her back. Something rustled behind her, but she didn't care because all she could see was that abyss opening under her feet, jumping at the chance to drag her down until there was nothing left.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, why, why, whywhywhy-

"Peace, Taylor, peace."

Everything froze as she felt a gentle grip on her arm. Blinking some of her tears away, she turned her head sideways and met Wukong's red eyes. Looking closer at them, the outside of the pupil was ringed with gold, and there was so much compassion in that stare she had to stop herself from sobbing again.

'When was the last time anyone looked at me like that? Not through me like Dad. The Trio looked at me when they wanted to make my life miserable for their shits and giggles.'

She sniffed and quickly nodded. "I'm-I'm fine now, you can let go."

Wukong nodded and withdrew his grip. She almost reached to wipe her face when she realized she was still holding onto the teacup…

…which, by how strongly she was gripping it, was really hot.

And was that a crack?

"Fuck!" she hissed, quickly placing it on the table and rubbing her hands along her shirt. She blew on her fingers a few times for good measure, and once the pain was manageable, she quickly looked up to see Peizhi staring at her with even more confusion than before.

God, if you're there, just kill me now.

"I-I'm so sorry," she muttered and ducked her head again, the shame causing heat to pool in her cheeks. "I don't know what came over me. I-I can pay for that if you want to-"

Wukong laughed and threw his head back. She lightly glared at him, but he didn't seem to laugh out of malice. And…the laugh itself wasn't grating like Emma's.

'It sounds like…bells.'

Fortunately, Wukong must've seen her glare and waved placatingly at her. "Forgive this Old Sun's outburst, dear Taylor, but you do not need to worry. I suspect that reaction was a long time coming. When considering these rather troubling revelations, no one here blames you for such a minuscule outburst."

"It's just a cup anyway," Peizhi added with a reassuring look. "I can always get a new one."

Taylor nodded reluctantly, then leaned back in her chair -

"Agh!" She swiftly turned around…and felt her jaw drop.

Golden leaves, dancing in the wind. They shimmered for a few seconds and flew around the room before fading into nothingness. A sharp pain drew her attention behind her, so she looked over her shoulder and saw…more of those golden leaves?

Her left eye twitched, and she felt her throat dry up as though she'd never sipped any tea.

'I…I have powers? I'm a cape?'

She shifted herself to get a better look at whatever the hell was growing out of her back when they swiped at the back of the wooden chairs, leaving scratch marks.

"Oh shit!" she leapt out of the chair and. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! It just- the things came out and-"

Wukong appeared in front of her in a flash, grasping her by the shoulders. "Dear girl, breathe. You are scared and confused, and rightly so, but I need you to calm down. Repeat after me: breathe in…" he took a deep breath.

"And breathe out." He exhaled on her, blowing away a strand of hair from her face. "Can you do that?"

Taylor hesitated at first, her thoughts still bouncing around like a washing machine. She wanted to scream, yell, anything that would provide explanations. It was only Wukong's grip and his piercing gaze that pushed those impulses to the side.

So she did as he instructed and drew air into her lungs. Breathe in…

Release. Breathe out…

"Again," he said.

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

Once the third breath left her lungs, Wukong nodded. "There. Feeling better now?"

No. There was still so much she wanted to ask. Even so…

"A little."

His smile twitched and he pulled back, releasing her shoulders. "I suppose that is good enough progress." He looked her up and down and stroked his furry chin. "Hmm, perhaps fresh air will help. The feng shui in your institution was horrid and I doubt you enjoy the sensation of being stuck inside four walls. Peizhi-xiansheng, do you have a coat the lass can borrow? It wouldn't do for the evening chill to sink its fangs into her skin."

Fresh air? Yes, fresh air sounded great.

Peizhi grimaced at the cape's request. "Um, Wukong, I'm not sure that's a good idea. What if-"

"It is fine, this will help her." Wukong turned to the man and bowed from the waist. "I apologize for these inconveniences, but the girl is my responsibility. I shan't shirk her off to anyone else unless she wishes it. To that aim, I require your help, and I swear upon my honor I shall reimburse you for any offense you might have taken from this."

'Wow,' thought Taylor as she took in the peculiar scene before her: a monkey wearing robes, bowing to a man in a collared shirt holding a teapot looking like he saw a fish tap-dance. 'Why did I think of that analogy? Okay, what the hell is my life right now?'

Peizhi stammered silently, his gaze flickering to her on occasion, but eventually, he sighed through his nose and put down the teapot. "I think I have something that fits her. I'll go get it."

He left the room, and Wukong turned to her again. "He is a virtuous man, my host. A bit odd-mannered, but his heart is in the right place. I shall have to think of a way to thank him."

Taylor bit her lip and took another quiet breath. A breeze from the open window flew in and made her shiver. At once, Wukong grabbed her teacup and held it out.

"Drink, lass. Your nerves need calming."

She gently took the teacup from his hands and ran a finger over the crack she'd caused, causing another rush of shame to run through her. 'It's not as hot as before…'

Nonetheless, she did as the monkey asked and finished drinking the tea in big sips. The flavor was still present, and she felt the chaos in her head settle somewhat. She was almost done when Peizhi entered, holding a small puffy winter jacket.

"I don't know if this'll fit, but I used to wear it as a kid."

Muttering a quick 'thank you', Taylor grasped the jacket and slipped it on. Wearing an adult's clothes felt weird, but it was much warmer than her shirt.

'Why am I feeling nylon on my back?' She shifted the coat around her until she realized the problem and swallowed a groan. 'Great, my clothes and my jacket have holes in them. Wait, did they see anything?''

Actually, the coat was perfect.

"All better now?" Wukong asked. At her nod, he clapped his hands. "Splendid! Let us be off!"

He headed out the kitchen door, and Taylor wordlessly followed him. They headed down the stairs, and she was soon treated to the sight of, just like he said, a shop. Kitschy was the first word that came to her, seeing the Chinese knick-knacks and toys lined up on the shelves. Lucky cats, masks, banners, even a few kites. Thankfully, no one else was present to see her or Wukong.

'Huh, is that an Alexandria figure?' The happiness she would've felt from seeing one of her favorite heroes felt muted, obligatory even, rather than from any sense of joy.

Wukong opened the door and they stepped into the empty street. The streetlights were on, and sunset was slowly giving way to night. From neighboring windows, she heard faint sounds of conversation and chatter. A cool wind blew down the streets and made her tighten the coat around her.

"Would you take my hand?"

She blinked as Wukong held out a hand to her.

"Um…why?"

He saved her, that was true when no one else did, but she couldn't help but rely on age-old instincts she learned from the school of hard knocks. A stranger - he saved you he's not a stranger - offering to take her someplace she didn't know? Red flags all around.

"I want to show you something. Besides, if venting your frustration is still in your plans, it would be rather awkward if we woke up the neighbors with our inconsideration, no?"

Good point.

It still rang a few alarms, and the voice that tried its best to keep her sane throughout the horrible days at Winslow screamed at her not to trust him; he was using her like the rest and would throw her away like trash.

And yet…

'Maybe just this once…I can take a chance.'

She pushed the voice away back into the dark and took his hand. His smile morphed into a grin, and suddenly he pulled her close to him and hefted her legs up.

"W-wait, what are you-"

The monkey laughed. "Do not fear, young Taylor, this will be a short trip!"

Taylor opened her mouth to protest again, but Wukong bent his knees…and they soared.

Forcing her mouth shut to stop herself from screaming, Taylor closed her eyes as she felt the air cutting her face. Every other second, a thud rocked her in Wukong's arms.

This is what trust gets you!

Then, they stopped.

"Open your eyes, dear girl." Wukong's raspy voice called out. "Deep breaths. You have nothing to fear."

Inhaling and exhaling over and over, Taylor drew in the little courage she had left and opened her eyes, staring right into Wukong's grinning face.

"Look over yonder," he said and gestured with his head. She turned her head…

And felt her breath taken away.

They were on a rooftop, she realized, several stories high. In front of them was a park, one of the few scattered through the city. It was the size of a small block, with grass, faded-paint benches and worn-down paths. Right next to them, a tree towered over the park, its leaves swaying in an unseen wind. All around them, she could see other roofs and the glass skyscrapers of downtown reaching for the twilight sky. The sun had fully disappeared from the horizon, and the moon and stars were shining from behind the clouds against a slowly darkening sky.

And the lights. So many lights. From streetlamps, from homes, from neon signs. None of them felt clogging or messy, but instead, they appeared almost kaleidoscopic. Under their bloom, the grass seemed to shine with an emerald hue, the wonderful aroma of oil and bread from the little bodega in the corner was tantalizing, and the chitchat of the couple walking down the street while holding hands sounded like little drops of water.

This is…

She didn't think it was possible to see something like this in the city.

Brockton Bay was a shit place to live in and one good kick away from collapsing into a sinkhole. Her dad knew it, she knew it, even the criminals knew it (which was why they were there). If she asked any Brocktonite on the street, they'd tell her the same thing.

Yet it was her home. Her mom's home. And those same Brocktonites would share the sentiment. More than once, she asked her dad and his friends at the DWU why they didn't leave after creating the Boat Graveyard. There was nothing left for them.

It's our home. We're not gonna leave it just because it looks bad now.

She didn't understand then. Hell, when she asked herself the same question, she'd answer the same thing, but how much of that was reflex, out of stubbornness not to abandon the only home she'd ever known?

What was worth sticking around for?

But now, looking at the lamplit skyline, with the tree a green canopy in a sea of concrete against the rising moon, despite knowing the awful reality they hid…

This was home.

Maybe there was something in that answer.

"I hardly believe it at times," Wukong commented, snapping her out of her musings. "That mortals could accomplish so much through ingenuity alone. Then I come to the rooftops and see this…" he chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, this Old Sun is blessed to witness such wonders."

Wonders…was that how he saw it? And what did he mean by 'mortals'?

Wukong let go of her feet and gently put her down. She yelped as her feet got reacquainted with the ground, but she managed to balance herself.

The cape put his hands on his hips and nodded with satisfaction. "A much better view than a kitchen, no?"

"Um, y-yeah, I guess." She looked around and rubbed her forearm. "What now?"

"Now? Well, I reckon that you desire some answers. Tell this Old Sun what you wish to know and I shall reply to the best of my ability."

No kidding.

She bit her lip and braced herself for whatever came next. "What happened?"

Two simple words. Out of all the questions threatening to burst out of her skull, it was the simplest one that she managed to voice.

"What happened, indeed." He stroked his chin hair again. "How much do you remember?"

"...most of it," she grimaced. "I remember the Trio up to their usual shit again, and this time they…broke the brush you gave me…ah shit, the brush!" She dug through her pockets, but to her dismay, she couldn't find the broken fragments. "I swear, I know I still had the pieces -"

"Ah, so you enjoyed my gift?"

Taylor clammed up and ducked her head. "Y-yeah. I was looking up how to paint with it, but I never got the chance to actually use it."

"Yes, I saw the punishment they doled out to the poor little brush. Whatever insult did it give to warrant such injury?"

Taylor couldn't help but giggle, even if it turned sarcastic. It made me happy.

"But you should not have been deprived of a chance to draw." Wukong plucked a hair from his head and blew on it. Just like last time, the hair flashed gold and turned into a brush.

"I do not recall the exact shape I used, but I only hope this token effort alleviates your loss."

"Uh…"

Words failed her as she took the offered brush and ran a finger along the polished wood. He just…gave her a new one, like that?

"Th-thank you. Thank you so much."

"No trouble at all," he replied with a wave. "Now, you were saying?"

"Right, the Trio. Sophia was about to attack me, and then…you came. You saved me."

The words still sounded absurd as she said them.

"You mocked Sophia," she continued. "Emma tried to lie again, but you didn't let her. You called her out on her bullshit, in front of all the teachers and the students..." She bit back a curse and gripped her forehead. "How many were there?"

"Hm, a couple dozen at least…so I wager your whole school knows by now. Gossip can shame lightning with its speed, I'm sorry to say."

Well, if the day couldn't get any worse, then she was proven wrong.

Taylor pinched her nose and forced herself to breathe, if only to tear off the band-aid. "Okay, that's great. Wonderful. So you grabbed Sophia and wanted her to say sorry…fat chance of that ever happening. And…then she used her powers."

She cursed herself and Sophia for the umpteenth time, and how neatly the puzzle pieces fit. How she could get away with everything, how she seemed so cocky, the bitch.

"She was a hero this whole time…" she muttered.

"Oh? You mean you didn't know she was empowered?" Wukong asked.

Taylor's head shot up and looked at him. "No! No, I had no idea that Sophia was Shadow Stalker! It makes so much sense now, but there was no way I could have known that beforehand."

"So the scroll grows ever longer…" he muttered. "I would imagine your peers would be thrilled to have a self-proclaimed 'hero' among their ranks and boast about it to all who would hear."

"That's the thing; no one is supposed to know about a hero's real identity." She wasn't a cape fanatic like some of her classmates, but this was basic knowledge. Why did he look so surprised? "But I know the teachers knew, that Emma knew. She must've told them. And yeah, they were real happy to have a hero as a friend."

Wukong huffed and shook his head. "When an honored disciple graces their presence, why bother with mere commoners? The same story repeats itself over and over, and then people are surprised when karma strikes true. Continue."

Taylor furrowed her brow and tried to remember past that horrid truth. But there was one problem.

"I don't…I don't know. It's all blurry from there."

And the crazy thing was that she knew something else had happened. But whenever she tried to remember, all she got was static.

"The next thing I know, I'm on that mattress."

She looked at Wukong, who stared at her while still rubbing his chin and tapping his foot. He mumbled under his breath, but she couldn't make heads or tails of the words.

"You are positive you remember nothing else? That you witnessed the brutish one reveal her true colors and then find yourself in the bedroom?"

Mentally laughing at the title he gave Sophia - Brutish one, she had to remember that - Taylor shook her head and gripped the brush tightly. The cape stared at her for a few more moments before nodding.

"Your memory is indeed spot-on. The reason why you failed to recall anything is that you passed out right after I administered some discipline to the brutish one. I could not leave you in good conscience to suffer interrogations and tribulations after such shocking news, so I brought you here."

Fainting in the school hall…she shuddered at the thought.

Yeah, maybe it was a good thing he took me. If Emma or any of the teachers found me…

She didn't think they'd kill her. At least she hoped not. But they might threaten her not to spill, or they'd go after her dad -

"Dad!"

He didn't know. No, he must've heard by now. Are they going to arrest him? Did they look through her house? Her journal, chronicling every misery the Trio inflicted on her? They'd throw it away, they'd come after her, go after Dad, who was still broken by her mother's death and didn't pay attention to his daughter anymore -

Hands fell on her shoulders again, and Wukong's red eyes stared into hers. "Breathe, young Taylor. Remember what I said. Breathe in, breathe out. You will be of no help to your father if your panic controls you."

Breathe…okay, she could do that. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out, in and out, in and out…was something poking at her back?

Oh right.

Throwing the jacket off, Taylor looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, those golden scales returned, and they were spawning from her back, extending outward and outward until they reached a couple of feet away. No longer little scales, they now resembled giant golden wings.

She had powers. She had powers.

"When? How?" she asked in disbelief.

"Right before you fainted. It gave your peers quite the scare," he replied, still holding onto her shoulders. "Relax. I swore to you no harm would befall you while I'm present, and I do not break my word easily. Your powers cannot harm you. Release your frustrations, and they will disappear."

Trigger Event. A term she frequently saw on PHO, over evenings spent on the computer. Capes got their powers through a Trigger Event. Was that what happened to her?

Wukong's raspy voice, reminiscent of bells, pierced through the fog. She kept inhaling and exhaling, and soon enough saw that the scales were detaching themselves from her back and flying in the air. Within a few seconds, her back had returned to normal, and the air around them was filled with motes of golden light.

She remembered her old summer camp, before Emma had decided to ruin her life. How they spent nights in the woods and caught fireflies, when she actually felt happy.

'They look prettier,' she thought, staring at them dancing.

A gentle shake pulled her back to Wukong's smiling face. He looked her up and down before asking a question that made her freeze on the spot:

"If you don't mind this Old Sun asking…why did the brutish one and her minions target you?"

…

…out of all the things he could ask…why this?

And why was he the only one to ask?

"If you do not wish to speak, that is fine. It is inconsiderate of me to open what is certainly an old wound."

"...no, it's…I have to say this."

So Taylor told him. All about Emma and the friendship they once held, once even calling each other sisters. How, after her mother's death, the world turned grayer. Her friendship with Emma was the only thing that kept her from breaking. Then, one day, her dearest friend backstabbed her, turning everyone, teacher and student alike, in the school against her, leaving her at the tender mercy of her new tormentors. Trashing her locker, tripping her in the hall…nothing was spared if it could make her life even the slightest bit happy.

"They broke my mother's flute…" she whispered, her voice on the verge of breaking out into sobs. "Just like the brush. Emma knew how important it was to me, but that didn't stop her."

No one believed her; they called her a troublemaker. The one time she involved her Dad, nothing was proven, and the pranks grew worse.

The only thing she could do was take the blows and endure…just until she left.

"But it doesn't matter, does it?" she cried, the tears finally breaking through. "Even if I did try something…it would never have worked."

Nothing she'd try would matter. Compared to a hero, Taylor would never matter.

Before she knew it, more than three years' worth of frustration, sadness and misery, starting at her mother's death and culminating at today's events, came spewing out. She sounded nasty; a dying dog sounded nicer than her. Her eyes were waterfalls and her glasses felt like they'd fall off any second. Her back tingled again, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The only thing keeping her from sinking to the floor was the firm hold Wukong had on her shoulders.

She didn't know how long she stayed there, crying. It felt like hours, but it really couldn't have been more than a minute or two. When the sobs finally died down, and she dried her eyes, Wukong was still there, with the same comforting smile.

She almost broke down again.

How could a  monkey  look at her with more kindness than any person she'd met?

"You have indeed endured a great deal, young Taylor," he said, his fingers massaging her shoulders. "A betrayal can be worse than any injury or disease, for it is the very soul that becomes wounded. Flesh can heal, bones can mend, but the spirit is not easily fixed." Every word sent warmth through her chilled body, much like the tea she had drunk earlier.

A breeze flew by, and the scent of a forest tickled her nose. And…it was a brief moment, but she felt…lighter.

"I have seen greater men succumb to despair over far less and end up paying the ultimate price. The fact that you are here and with us is a feat worthy of songs. Take pride in that, and know you are strong."

…god, he sounded so corny. But she couldn't stop her treacherous lips from curving up.

She wanted to relish in that moment, to know that one person actually listened to her and believed her, but like always, dark thoughts reared their ugly heads.

"The PRT is going to come after me, aren't they?"

Wukong's smile dimmed and he withdrew his hands, to her frustration. "I imagine they won't take kindly to one of their own being humiliated in such a manner."

She grimaced and hugged herself. "What am I gonna do? I don't know if I can even go back home. The PRT's probably got their hands on Dad, and they're waiting for me to show up so they can haul me off to prison. Maybe even the Birdcage." She glanced at him with worry. "And they're going to try the same thing with you."

"Possibly," he replied and shrugged. "Let them try; I shall grade them on their effort."

Taylor blinked at the sheer nonchalance he showed to the prospect of being hunted down by an entire branch of the PRT - I'm dead, I'm dead - but continued.

"And then there's the gangs, the police, the whole city, they'll all come gunning for my head." She clutched her head and felt her knees start to give way. "What am I going to do?"

There was no escape. She didn't even know if she could leave Brockton Bay now. Everyone would be watching the roads, and it was only a matter of time before she found herself in a cell or at gunpoint before a gang leader. Maybe even Kaiser, the fucking Nazi bastard.

More golden scales began to fly around her, scattering in the air above them to the choir of her incoherent mumblings. A scream began to build up inside her, but Wukong's voice snapped her out of her stupor once again.

"What do you want to do, young Taylor?"

She slowly turned to him, confused. 'Didn't he hear me just now?'

The cape shrugged and pointed at her. "Indeed, the current state of affairs is not ideal. You thought the whole world was against you then? It is nothing compared to now. But I ask you to disregard these troubles for a single moment and answer me this: what do you want to do?"

No answer came to her.

'What do I  want?'

Some part of her wanted to run away. To forget about the city, and start somewhere else. She had a grandmother in New York, maybe she could work something out. It was a sensible thought, it was a logical thought.

But…

This is my home.

Taylor stared at the great tree and its swaying leaves. She stared at the park, spotting a young couple walking hand-in-hand. She saw the skyline, not of the skyscrapers and glass towers, but of the lights shining through windows and the distant chatters and laughter.

This is my home.

A golden light floated in front of her. She remembered how she accidentally damaged Peizhi's poor chair. Raising her arm, she watched as the scale floated down and touched her palm. It didn't cut or hurt her; instead, it stayed until the wind blew it away.

I have powers.

Was running away what she really wanted?

This is my home.

"...I want to help."

Wukkong raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Elaborate on your words for this Old Sun."

Swallowing her protests, she took a deep breath and began to speak.

"...what happened to me, never should've happened. What Emma, Sophia and Madison did to me, and the fact that the school covered it up is fucked up on so many levels I can't even count them. I couldn't do anything back then. But now that I can do something…" she willed herself to continue; she'd come this far, and she wouldn't let it slip. "I want to help people. I want to make sure no one ever goes through what happened to me. It's a stupid idea, and maybe I should find a way to leave. But no one else is going to do it, I've seen that much now, and I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror again, knowing that I could have helped and did nothing instead."

Her fists clenched as she stared at Wukong, who remained impassive.

"Screw the PRT and screw the gangs, they're not getting their hands on me. This city needs help, so why not me? If I can help someone not feel helpless like I did for over a year, so that no one would come and save me…then that's all I need."

Just like how you helped me.

Seconds stretched, and Wukong kept staring. Inwardly, Taylor began to panic. Was he going to laugh now? Call her stupid? She knew that, but that's what he asked for. And it wasn't going to stop her from -

His grin returned, sending a rush of warmth through her.

"A fine goal, dear lass. Worthy of any legend. And I have no doubt you will succeed."

The stupid smile kept trying to creep up on her, and this time, she let it. He believed in her. Sun Wukong, the crazy monkey-man who'd rescued her twice over, believed in her.

"But, forgive this Old Sun for asking, what is your plan for this newfound quest?"

…

…shit. She really didn't think this through.

She stammered, trying to come up with at least a starting point: a hideout, a costume, money, anything that could help, when he guffawed again with a hand on his ash-stained robes.

"I admire your enthusiasm, but rushing out there will only land you in a pile of bones and behind iron bars."

"W-well, what about you?" she said. "They won't let you go that easily."

He paused and rubbed his mouth again, humming as his tail swayed behind him. Then, his lips twitched in an almost teasing manner.

"It is written that Venerable Laozi - or was it the Buddha? I don't recall - once said, 'when the pupil is ready, the master appears.' I believe I have a way we can both help each other."

Taylor tilted her head. "How so?"

"Simple: while my dear host Peizhi has taught me much about your city, I feel he is lacking in perspective. I want you to teach me all that you know about the world, Brockton Bay, these supposed 'heroes, ' and everything you deem me worthy of learning. In exchange…" he gestured to himself. "You become my disciple."

Taylor's shoulders dropped in shock. "Disciple?"

Was he…was he offering to…?

"I do not boast lightly when I say that I have travelled the world for many years and have learned all manner of secrets and arts, from combat to philosophy, even magics which bear similarities to your powers. I wish to instruct you in these ways and in the dharma so that you might fulfill your quest and live a long and happy life to tell about it."

Taylor could only stand there slack-jawed, words failing to come to her. Maybe this was a dream?

The breeze from before caressed her face. No, this wasn't a dream.

Here stood a cape - not just any cape, her savior, her hero when no one else came - and he not only admired her goals, but he wanted to teach her?

"...why? Why me?"

He sent her an admonishing yet amused look, as if questioning her sanity for even asking such a question.

"Well, this whole mess is partially the result of my impulsive actions, and I offer a thousand apologies for it. I do not regret your rescue, far from it, but I acted with less finesse than what the situation called for. I swore I shall take responsibility for my part in your troubles, and thus I shall."

Taylor frantically moved to interject, to say he owed her zilch, but a raised palm halted her.

"I told you when we first met, young Taylor: I believe, even now - nay, especially now - that you can soar. I want to help you grow your wings…literally and metaphorically, of course. Heh, funny how karma works." He let out a snicker before resuming. "I have an eye for potential, and if you will allow this Old Sun, with the heavens and the earth as my witness…

…you will soar. And all those who laughed at you? They will weep from the ground where they belong."

…It was too good to be true. She had half a mind to refuse; this was her fault, she shouldn't involve him in this mess. She could survive on her own, she'd done it for some time now, in a manner of speaking.

And yet…

She could trust him. He helped her then. He saved her from the Trio, he rescued her from the PRT, gave her food and shelter when the whole city was looking for her. He wanted to help her now.

A leap of faith? A true leap?

The nod she gave was all the answer he needed.

"Excellent," he said, his fangs glistening against the golden lights. "I have a feeling you and I are going to have quite the time together, young Taylor." He balled his fist into his palm and held out his arms. "This Old Sun is honored to have you as a disciple."

She didn't stop the laugh escaping from her lips. In a rather clumsy attempt, she tried to imitate him, holding out her arms with a balled fist. "And I'm…happy to learn from you…"

What she was about to say was corny, but hadn't that been what Wukong had been like ever since she first met him? Corny, but sincere. And she wanted to be sincere about this, more than anything else she'd stepped into.

He really liked those old Chinese kung-fu movies, right? So…was this what she should say?

"...master Wukong."

He let out a bark of laughter. "Hah! It is settled then! I warn you, though: I am a harsh instructor. If you wish to learn from me, it will not be easy or painless. I expect nothing more than your best."

To that, she said one thing, formed by surviving everything the shitty city of Brockton Bay had thrown at her:

"Bring it."

And so it was, with only a willow tree and the moon as their witness, that a master and disciple swore an oath and found their fates bound in ways that neither of them ever expected…and that none of them would ever forget.

Not in a thousand lifetimes…

…and certainly not in this one.

[1] "Ah, now that is the scent of tranquility, dear host! I already feel the chrysanthemum warming these old bones."

[2] "Thanks, but I still don't get why you enjoy my tea so much. Su-jie makes a far better brew with worse."

[3] "Nonsense, dear fellow! It is this Old Sun who doesn't understand why you insist on such humility, even when confronted with the truth!"

Chapter Text

Water trickled along rocks and pebbles. Crickets chirped on branches of blossoms. Pink flowers, blooming into crowns, drifted on the river's pulse. The grove drank from the waters, its multitude of roots embedded deep within the rich soil. A canvas of green and yellow, highlighted by a stroke of clear blue.

Perched on a branch of a tall tree was a bird, and beside her were four hatchlings. Blue-feathered and green-breasted they were, shimmering, living jewels under the incandescent light. The mother chirped and took flight, diving and gracing the water's clear surface with her wing. Up and down, round and round, under branches and over roots. Her children, filled with curious nature and rooted instinct, cultivated by ages past and through ancestors' labors, watched their bearer's every flap, soaking all the knowledge they would need to take to the blue canvas above them.

The mother landed on the branch, and a chorus of chirps joined the symphony of nature. An eager flock they were, and they would fly to their own fates one day. Until then, she would guide and teach them. Not just in flight but in food, foraging, and building; as all mothers do and should.

A jerk of a plumed head signals the trial's start.

First Brother - for only when they leave their nest do they gain proper names, befitting of their new status as adults - leaps and spirals down, wings fluttering and catching the air until they finally spread and he pivots upward. He circles the stream and triumph is in his call. First born, first to try, first to live, first to die. Cycles upon cycles, all in the balance of the world.

First Sister sees her elder brother and trills with wonder. Air flows between her pinions as she hops off the branch and flits above the lily pads, elegance and finesse with every beat of her resplendent wings.

Second Brother's heart swells with pride, acknowledging his senior siblings' rightful position as first of flight. Even if he lacks his brother's swiftness and his sister's beauty, his flight proves steady, and his eyes are sharp, spotting comfortable branches to rest on amidst the nearby willows.

Finally, there is Second Sister. Her call is the peal of wind chimes, and her head a crest of flowing jade. Beauty on par with her sister's, sure to attract any mate wishing to court her in the future. She longs for the skies as the rest of her family does. However, when she looks down at the river from the branch's height, hesitation grips her fragile bones. The wings that she had spent hours practicing with, watching her mother leave and return to the nest with food, are chilled by an unseen frost. Her tail feathers, preened by her mother daily, seem to retreat into her body. It is not a pleasant fall for a bird, and she was no crane or heron, who took to the waters as they did to the air. If she fell into the water, would she ever see the skies again? Would her dear mother, who nurtured her, save her? Her siblings, whose warmth she had known all her life?

Would they deign to risk their new freedom for the plight of a failed daughter?

The mother sees her daughter's fear and chirps. Her second daughter was always the fragile one among her nest, and she had worried for her ever since her hatching, so pale and lustreless. An extra portion was doled out to her, hidden within her breast feathers, so she might grow healthy and strong like her sister. With time, her plumage grew to match and even surpass the others' radiance, and her wings had filled out and grown to their proper size. However, despite all the care she was given, the spectre of fear still loomed over the youngest.

The time had come. She could no longer wait or let fear take hold of her. It pained her as a mother to do so, but the call of the ancestors was not to be ignored.

Second Sister kept staring at the water, and suddenly -

Her mother's mournful trill.

Her siblings circled above her, calling out for her to join them, growing further away with each second.

The wind did not carry her. Her wings were weighted with stone.

The trickling of water growing louder and louder, and a face matching her own growing closer and closer -

"Ah!"

Oh? What's this?

Not the water's cold and unfeeling touch, but one of warmth and comfort.

"Do not fear the skies, little one. Your fear deceives and binds you."

Second Sister chirped, nine toes gripping delicate fingers.

"Destiny's call is not the chains in the deep, but the freedom of the heavens."

Another finger brushes her head.

"Your family calls for you. They fear for you and love you; never doubt that."

Birdsong filled the sky and joined the river's chorus.

"Go and join them."

Second Sister looked back at the river, and this time, her breast swelled with courage. With a dainty jump, she leapt off the hand and finally joined them above, to their jubilation.

Footsteps rustled the grass behind her.

"Was it truly a kindness you showed it? Perhaps it was meant to fall if the waters had claimed it."

"Just because the first step might be uneven, it shouldn't signal the journey's end," she chided. "Sometimes a helping hand is more important than the step itself."

"Perhaps. But if one does not learn to take the first step by oneself, how can one hope to endure the journey ahead? The helping hand will not always be present to guide, and might be viewed as a crutch."

"A cold view of the world. Do infants not walk with their mother's help?"

"Even babes must take their first steps unaided. Otherwise, no one would call them 'first steps', for who is it that does the walking?"

She sighed. "A pillar we claim is central, yet so few are willing to bear it upon them."

"It is central and it is followed, but the other virtues cannot be neglected." He sat down beside her. She did not mind; despite their debates, his presence was always a welcome one.

A leaf drifted upon the river, making tiny ripples as it moved.

"Your presence has been sorely missed. Our friends note your mien has grown downcast as of late."

A finger dipped into the river, the ripples pushing the leaf aside.

"I feel little cause for levity these days. If others would notice, they would share in my sorrow. How can I make merry, when vestiges slither past and remind me of my purpose?"

He grunted in understanding. "A cruel position, to be sure. This change you cannot ignore, yet willing hands are stayed, and this garden is your retreat."

"I questioned the decision many times, and even others saw the truth behind my words. But at the end of the day, it was futile."

"Futile might be a strong word; friends and opponents revealed their true colors in those days."

The closest approximation to a snort escaped her lips. "As if I needed those to divine their nature. They forget at times who I am, despite their reverence."

The birds swooped down, circled them, and sang songs of gratitude. The mother took charge, and the family flew into the golden rays of the sun. Smiling at their performance, she raised a handful of pebbles from the stream, each flat and smooth, and began stacking them.

"A strange rush swept my consciousness earlier during my morning bouts - as though a snowbank shifted from the face of the mountain. When I attempted to find it, nothing was amiss."

"Balance always shifts and rights itself; otherwise, it wouldn't be called balance. A challenge, an insult, then a change in the scales, and finally, reconciliation." She placed the last pebble atop the mound and bowed. "One stone might cause a ripple, but the river's course remains steady."

He bowed his head as well, then gestured to her lap. "Is that a new flower? I've never seen its like in the gardens."

"Oh yes, it's fascinating." She plucked it from the vase and held it aloft, her smile growing genuine. "A dear friend of mine gifted it to me from his travels. He claims it's from a land where the scent of wine glides upon the sea breeze, and where thought and ideals were forged on beaches and mountains."

She brushed its purple petals and held it against the sun's light. "In their culture, it symbolizes change. A surprising change, at times unwelcome, but we both know that such change can often result in better times."

His grumble was an avalanche, but she didn't miss the upturning of his lips. She offered him the flower, and he grasped it between his calloused fingers. It bore an intriguing look, far different from the cultivated orchids and blossoms boasted on many a table. The petals were creased together and folded like paper. A chaotic mess that would shame many arrangements…though it wasn't unappealing to the eye. Instead of order, he glimpsed patterns and found himself drawn to them, his eyes roaming along their twists and turns.

"The water flows smoothly to the fish, and to the eagle, it is naught but a blue line, scribbled in the ground with no purpose but to join the sea. Neither dreams of the other, so why question?" he murmured. Bringing the flower to his nose, he took in its fragrance.

"A beautiful specimen," he exclaimed, his voice flush with warmth. With a careful grip, he returned the flower. "A new spot for the garden?"

"Of course."

"I imagine the envy already. Who needs the titter-tatter of the peacocks when such a lovely swan graces my presence?"

Her smile, though one of amusement rather than joy, was brighter than all the stars, and pride filled his heart. Few else were truer friends.

"Your silver tongue, while polished to a shine, is better suited elsewhere. Nonetheless, I thank you for your attempt."

Ah, much better. Gloom and melancholy did not suit her nature nor her position. If he could offer an open ear or a strong grip, only his fading body would stop him.

Hah, beaten again!

She returned to watching the river and he bade his leave. Not a moment later, though, his voice called out in question:

"I saw the young one hiding within the green and engaged in contemplation. A path trodden fine alone, yet in absence I felt a presence sorely missed. The other one, where has he gone?"

She picked up the topmost rock and turned it over thrice in her palms. Unlike the others, jagged were its edges, and rough was its skin. "Even hidden amongst the garden, a closed bud feels lesser to the blooming ones. He masked it well, but it was soon written upon his face. And I cannot stop their gazes, no matter how much I shield him. The loss of a loved one pulls at the heart worse than any claw or weapon, and few could compare to the emptiness clawing at his. He was going through the motions, more out of gratitude and obligation than desire. I feared one day, the knives in the dark would strike and disaster would ensue. I could protect him, yes, but his emptiness would expand and consume him."

Placing the rock on the emerald bank, she laid soft blades atop it until it was hidden from their view.

"Thus, I asked him. And when he replied yes, I showed him the way. Do not search for him; he is far beyond your sight now."

The meadow danced to the wind's tune, whispering on hidden revels, ignorant of his astonishment.

How?

"Your reach is truly beyond this lowly one's. Such stealth is unexpected, I must confess."

A coy smile was her response. "I do not enjoy it in the slightest, but even I know the value of the hidden lips and the deft hand. Such tools are to be used lightly, and only then do their edges stay sharp."

A breeze passed between them, carrying the drifting leaves from under roots and atop the highest branches. Far away, the familiar calls rang.

Another bow came from him. "Once again, you stand atop us all. Would you permit this humble one to invite you to partake in the company of our trusted confidants later?"

"I can think of no greater honor. Safe travels, dear friend."

"And serenity upon your weary spirit."

And thus, he left her to her musings on the riverbank, with the trickling of the water and the rustling of the trees as her companions. Her smile, moments before full of life, dimmed as disquietude crept its bony hands into her mind.

"Guidance…it seems that we are all in need of it, and still unwilling to give it. For how can you give what you do not have?"

She raised her head, and Second Sister, once fragile and stricken and now vibrant and cheerful, darted from the treetops, her siblings trilling behind her before the family delved back into the green, leaving naught but echoes in their wake.

"If others seek to fly, I hope you will be that helping hand…so they may guide you to happiness as well."

Chapter Text

We shall now tell you about Pilgrim Sun, who asked Tripitaka to mount his horse. He himself, stark naked, carried the luggage on his back and led the way. In a little while, as they were passing the Mountain of Two Frontiers, they saw a fierce tiger approaching, growling and waving its tail. Tripitaka, sitting on his horse, became alarmed, but Pilgrim, walking at the side of the road, was delighted. "Don't be afraid, Master," he said, "for he's here to present me with some clothes." He put down the luggage and took a tiny needle out of his ears. One wave of it facing the wind, and it became an iron rod with the thickness of a rice bowl. He held it in his hands and laughed, saying, "I haven't used this treasure for over five hundred years! Today I'm taking it out to bag a little garment for myself."

Look at him! He strode right up to the tiger, crying, "Cursed beast! Where do you think you're going?" Crouching low, the tiger lay prone on the dust and dared not move. Pilgrim Sun aimed the rod at its head, and one stroke caused its brain to burst out like ten thousand red petals of peach blossoms, and the teeth to fly out like so many pieces of white jade. So terrified was our Chen Xuanzang that he fell off his horse. "O God! O God!" he cried, biting his fingers. "When Guardian Liu overcame that striped tiger the other day, he had to do battle with him for almost half a day. But without even fighting today, Sun Wukong reduces the tiger to pulp with one blow of his rod. How true is the saying, 'For the strong, there's always someone stronger!'"

"Master," said Pilgrim as he returned dragging the tiger, "sit down for awhile, and wait till I have stripped him of his clothes. When I put them on, we'll start off again." "Where does he have any clothes?" asked Tripitaka. "Don't mind me, Master," said Pilgrim, "I have my own plan." Dear Monkey King! He pulled off one strand of hair and blew a mouthful of magic breath onto it, crying, "Change!" It changed into a sharp, curved knife, with which he ripped open the tiger's chest. Slitting the skin straight down, he then ripped it off in one piece. He chopped away the paws and the head, cutting the skin into one square piece. He picked it up and tried it for size, and then said, "It's a bit too large; one piece can be made into two." He took the knife and cut it again into two pieces; he put one of these away and wrapped the other around his waist. Ripping off a strand of rattan from the side of the road, he firmly tied on this covering for the lower part of his body. "Master," he said, "let's go! Let's go! When we reach someone's house, we will have sufficient time to borrow some threads and a needle to sew this up."

-Journey to the West, chapter 14

"Hurry up, you fucks!"

Kei ushered his friends into the room while he kept an eye out behind them. Once the last of them passed the door, he slammed it shut. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he leaned against the worn door and glanced at the ceiling. The windows were shut, boarded up even, but he didn't dare to tell anyone to remove them. Not even the barely functioning lightbulb was on, and he wanted it to stay that way. The others shuffled around in the darkness, their labored breaths echoing in the room.

Too loud, too loud.

"Um-"

A dull smack cut off whatever the idiot was about to spew. Kei gritted his teeth and felt his blood kick into high gear as it rushed down his veins. They couldn't afford one screw-up.

He pressed his ear to the door, and he heard everyone take a collective breath. No sound came. A minute passed and he allowed himself to speak again. "How much did we grab?"

Someone unzipped the bag - god, why did it sound like a chainsaw!? - and dug inside it. "We got the emeralds and the jade - wait, I think it's the sapphire."

Fucker, we needed to grab the jade! Kei almost roared, but swallowed down his rage and nodded, despite knowing no one could properly see him, or anyone else in the room. "And the cash?"

"...maybe? Let me get the flashlight-"

"No!" he hissed, in tandem with the collective inhale of his associates. "No, just…leave it. Once we're back home, we'll do a proper count. At least we'll have something to show Lee."

"You think he'll accept it?" one whispered. Kei bit his lip, unwilling and unable to provide an answer. Since Lung got his ass whooped and his beatdown was spread across the internet, the ABB was running around like headless chickens trying to retain their turf from the Empire and every gang seeking to profit off their shame. If that wasn't bad enough, dissension was quick to follow, with one captain splitting from the ABB and forming his own gang.

It didn't take a professor to know their days were numbered. Lung's presence protected the ABB from itself as much as the other gangs. With him gone, it was only a matter of time before the gang would break into factions and devour itself.

They were on the verge of losing everything when the captains were summoned via text to one of the older hideouts, including Kei, the youngest among them. Much to their surprise, Oni Lee stood in the middle of the room, holding a burlap sack. Kei thought he hightailed it out of the city the moment their leader was kicked to the curb.

Whatever questions the captains had were silenced when Lee tossed a severed head out of the sack: it was none other than the traitor captain. His rictus was forever frozen, with eyes wide and a hanging jaw. His left side was completely melted, exposing the skull underneath. As the captains gazed in terror, Lee said one thing:

"The dragon lives. He will return to reclaim his kingdom. His army must wait and persevere. All traitors will perish by his hand or mine."

Needless to say, anyone with funny ideas got the message.

But while the ABB survived an internal fracture, that did little to stop the encroachment of the other gangs and the PRT. The other captains lost chunks of territory or had to straight-up abandon them. Thankfully, the heat died down and the criminals of Brockton Bay reduced the intensity of their attacks, enough for ABB crews like Kei's to return to their usual routine…on a lesser scale. Brothels and tax collection were done under the table. Acquiring new turf and open crime were a no-go unless they got an OK from Lee.

Like the heist they just pulled: valuable gems in a low-security store with some bonus cash on the side. Grab in, get the goods, get the fuck out, lay low. Oni Lee's happy, the boys get a cut, and they go home for food and bitches.

It went down like clockwork -

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Until he came.

The room became so silent that Kei could hear himself sweat. Eyes trailed to the door behind him. He slowly looked down and saw a shadow blotting out the light beneath the door. Through the musty darkness, Kei saw one guy's knees buckle and another snap to his semi-auto.

Casually munching on a bag of party-sized ranch nachos.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

They all wanted to bolt or go guns blazing. Kei channeled all of his 'shut-your-fuckholes-or-we-die' energy into his stare and prayed that his idiot crew would get the message.

Desperation birthed speed, and Kei thought his legs would fall off from how fast they carried him. One of them had an actual good idea and they ditched the van midway, carrying all but one of the goods.

When they reached the hideout and locked the door, Kei honestly thought he'd lost him.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck his past self and his drug-addled fantasies.

Silence. No further knock came from behind the door. The guys stared at him, completely lost on what to do. Kei wanted to scream at them, to rave about how screwed they were, when he noticed something beneath his feet.

The shadow below the door…had completely vanished.

And a deep inhale rang in his ears.

Fuck me sideways.

Kei flung himself forward right as a tearing sound and light flooded the room. He kissed the ground hard, but he righted himself up and felt his stomach drop to the deepest pits of hell.

For standing there, holding a door by the side with one hand like a twig, was Sun fucking Wukong, and positively happy to boot.

"Salutations, bottom-feeders! I am here to liberate the ill-gotten spoils of your burglary!"

The fucking monkey stood there, chip bag in one hand and door in the other, with a fang-filled grin on his face.

"I'd hoped we could discuss the acquisition of your misplaced wealth in a civilized manner, but you displayed such rudeness when I called out to you! This Old Sun's honor was gravely wounded by your insult!"

He pitched his head back and dunked a heap of nachos into his mouth. The crunches sounded like the cocking of a thousand guns aimed right between their eyes. Or a countdown clock.

"An offer of peaceful negotiation was on my mind's table, but even monkeys must respect schedules and I have an appointment to keep." He swallowed and licked his lips. "That being said, recompense of honor is owed to the poor jeweller and me, so…"

He tossed the bag aside and leaned forward, red eyes glinting and his smile growing a tad too wide. For the first time in years, a certain thought voiced itself in Kei's mind:

Maybe the ABB isn't worth it.

"Please resist."

-x-

Sun Wukong whistled a merry tune as he walked down the street. His tail swished back and forth, and he breathed in the morning air.

'The sun is shining, the sparrows are singing their dulcet tunes, and the moans of reprobates tickle my ears!' he thought. 'Oh, what a wonderful day!'

He hadn't planned on knocking some manners into the local ruffians; they just had the unfortunate luck to encounter him as he tried a new flavor of nachos. The sheer variety of flavors offered…'twas more intoxicating than incense.

'This 'ranch flavor' was not of the spicy variety. Tingly and laden with herbs, with a strong dash of garlic. And the kind vendor said there was even a 'ranch' sauce! Ooh, I must try that.'

Regardless of his continued appreciation for Meiguo cuisine, Wukong knew he wouldn't be a proper Monkey King if he allowed those ruffians to go about as they pleased. Robbing the poor people of their livelihoods, shame on them! Yet he was also a magnanimous king and offered them a chance to lay down their arms and apologize to the jeweller when he returned from his meal.

Fortunately, they refused.

Chuckling, he shook his head in fondness. 'Ah, Master Tang would lecture me on compassion and showing mercy to misguided souls like them. Alas, when your opponent is of an unpleasant disposition, it is proven that the gentle palm's lesson lasts for a year. The lesson of the iron fist lasts for a lifetime.'

Wukong paused, contemplating the overzealousness of his punishment on clearly weaker beings before shrugging. That was then, this is now!

A few mortals nodded at him as he strolled by, with one eager child waving and calling out his name. His parents pulled him back, but there was no fear in their eyes when they glanced at him, only caution. As a parent should.

'It speaks much of the people that they do not flee in my presence, or deny it to their children,' he thought, glancing at a faded poster for some strange thing called 'insurance'. 'My poor heart couldn't bear it if I could not entertain young Thao and his band of cubs. Buddha knows the unpleasant attention this Old Sun brought upon their lives.'

"Halt!"

Speaking of unpleasant attention…

He turned around to the police officer who shouted those words. Wukong thought the city watch's uniforms were funny. Blue as the summer sky and strewn with pockets and baubles. Not even a hint of armor; how would they defend themselves?

The man grabbed a box next to his breast and spoke into it, while his other hand held the strange thunder weapon the Meiguo folk favored. "Dispatch, this is Officer Jenkins. I have eyes on the villain Sun Wukong. Requesting PRT backup immediately-"

Wukong huffed as the man kept jabbering. It was a repeating occurrence since the school incident a week before. The police regularly tried to stop him when he was doing no harm or enjoying his day. Apparently, the higher powers didn't take kindly to the rescue of a wounded girl. Called it 'kidnapping', 'property damage' and other nonsensical words. The nerve! The Celestial Court could craft better trumped-up charges by spilling ink!

Without waiting for his tirade to finish, the Monkey King leaped into the air. He bounded across the rooftops, determined to avoid any further confrontation.

'I wouldn't mind giving them a good verbal thrashing, but this Old Sun swore to Peizhi-xiansheng he wouldn't disturb the law enforcement too much.' He stopped on another roof and surveyed the street below. 'Besides, as amusing as it would have been to mess with him, I have an appointment to keep. Let it not be said that Sun Wukong is a tardy monkey!'

Jumping from the roof and landing on the street, Wukong turned to the shop behind him and opened the door. He took a moment to appreciate the colors and scents of cloth and yarn before the owner's voice cried out from behind the counter: "Hold your horses, I'm right -" She rose and turned around before her eyes widened. "Oh, it's you."

Wukong grinned and curtsied to the old woman. "A fine morn to you, seamstress Xiuying!"

Xiuying huffed a lock of hair from her face and sent him a flat glare. "Close the door. Did anyone see you come in? I don't want the cops tearing through my merchandise."

"You wound me, my lady!" he gasped, clutching his breast as though mortally struck. His tail reached out and pushed the door closed. "I am the pinnacle of stealth, a whisper in the wind! Have you no faith in this Old Sun?"

"And what happened at that school is your stellar example?" she shot back, her aged eyes narrowing at him. "If that's what you call the pinnacle of stealth, then my nainai lying in her grave is square dancing!"

He shrugged. "Fair, but there were…extenuating circumstances behind that incident."

Xiuying snorted, not at all convinced. She held her gaze for a few seconds before sighing. "Just watch where you're stepping. There are enough headaches in this city without you doing," she waved at him. "This…whatever the hell you do."

Wukong dipped his head in acquiescence. A sharp tongue hiding a caring heart. Such folks always spouted gems worth heeding. "I have come to care for the people here as much as you do, so do not fear."

"We'll see. Now, you're here for your order, right?"

Clapping his hands, a wide grin split his face. "Oh yes! I am most eager to see your creation! I rushed over the moment Peizhi-xiansheng told me!"

"With a snack stop on the way?"

Wukong blinked. How did she know? Was she secretly in possession of mental magics?

She pointed at his face. "You left a little party on your chin."

He ran his hand through his chin fur and sure enough, yellow crumbs stuck to his hand. Chuckling, he bowed his head. "Apologies, Lady Xiuying. I shall clean myself the moment I return."

Xiuying huffed, then reached under the counter and pulled out a large paper box. "This was a tough one, I'll admit it. You're not my conventional customer, and I haven't done a hanfu for everyday use in," she smacked her lips. "Many, many years. Not to mention you're gonna be doing much more than walking around town in this. But I think I managed."

Wukong giggled and zipped up to the box. Grasping the lid, he almost tore it off. A faint gasp left his lips. "My word…"

"The curtain in the back doubles as a changing stall," she gestured to the side room on his right. Wukong immediately dashed to the room in question and cast off his old robes, leaving only the armwraps. He put the box down and unfurled the new robes, fully taking in Xiuying's craftsmanship.

At first glance, it was little more than a traditional shan with a youren - a right-hand lapel, yet that was where its simplicity ended. A thin line of fur lined the lapel's edges, and along the seam, he spotted a familiar hair strand embroidered to blend in with the rest of the seam. The fur was peculiar, and its scent did not remind him of any beast or creature he'd ever encountered. Its texture was akin to…paper, if he had to compare. How odd, yet not unwelcome.

The shan's ebon silk almost gleamed under the artificial light, the color of kings standing prominent amidst its cluttered surroundings. Rubbing it, he marvelled at the softness of the fabric, matching that of the finest tailors of imperial courts. Layers of silk caressed his digits, thick enough to defend him from the elements, yet not as coarse and heavy as leather peasant garments.

'And the threads!' he thought, tracing the cloth with delicate fingers. 'Multitudes of them, and each one with the exact length as its sibling! No hint of creasing or even a hint of impure yarn! This is pure silk! The good lady was not exaggerating as to her abundance! Such uniform stitching…no mortal hands could achieve this level of finesse. How did she do it?'

Throwing the robe around his shoulders, he put his arms through the long, wide sleeves and shook them. 'A perfect weight balance. I feel the cloth's presence, yet not so cumbersome as though loaded with stones.'

Wukong reached down and grabbed the next garment, a pair of baggy trousers, or ku. As he did before, Wukong basked in the near-perfect construction of the garment. To his delight, an opening was formed at the hindquarters for his dear tail. The shan also parted a third of the way from the bottom hem to allow it greater wiggle room. The ku's pockets were deep enough to hide a quarter of a forearm, perfect for hiding things. Donning them and rolling up the ends so they would just crest over his greaves, he turned to the accessory that would complete the set: a thick ochre sash, embroidered with white geometric patterns and lined with the same strange fur, dyed in black. Atop it was a thin belt. Naturally, they were all pure silk.

Folding and fastening the sash and belt around his waist respectively, Wukong fixed the last touches to his new outfit. 'Now, if I had a mirror…perhaps one of the large glass panes on the city spires will do. They're more polished than any handmaiden's mirror.'

He saw something glint behind him, and he swiftly turned around. Was that his reflection, peeking from beneath cluttered boxes?

Pushing them aside and letting them fall in a heap, he ignored the now-bestrewed floor as he gazed upon his full reflection, resplendent in his new robes.

'...perfect. Beyond my wildest expectations.'

It wasn't just the visual flourishes, like the open collarbone. There was no chafe or itch, nor were there signs of patched-together scraps dyed to appear uniform. No, the whole of the shanku was woven from only three rolls of the finest silk he beheld upon the Earth; one for each component of the shanku themselves, and one for the accessories. Evenly weighted, fitting his size with no needless sag or wrinkling, and layered thick enough to give some padding.

Unbelievable.

His form trembled. The corners of his lips curved higher and higher.

"Oi, you okay back there?" Xiuying called out. "If you need help, just say it! I don't want you wrecking my closet like some -"

Wukong threw his head back and bellowed out a peal of laughter. He couldn't help himself, it was too much. Here he was, garbed in a robe that would draw the envy of the heavens themselves, worthy of being an imperial heirloom. And the dear lady's concern was that he didn't know how to dress himself.

"Oh, joy of joys! How blessed is this Old Sun, to clad himself in such raiments! Mistress Xiuying, your efforts have exceeded my wildest hopes!"

"Eh?" she asked in slight confusion, which only made his laughter grow. "Well, come out here and let me get an eyeful! And quit the cackling while you're at it!"

He slapped his knee and walked out of the back room, his laughter slowly receding. Xiuying scanned him and down, her narrow eyes boring in on every fold and detail.

"Hm, not bad."

A guffaw lurched from his mouth. "'Not bad?' You mortals and your humility! Acknowledging a successful creation is no shame, and 'successful' is the least I can call this!" he said, gesturing to the robe.

"Bah!" she waved him off. "If I got excited over every little victory, I wouldn't bother sewing clothes. There's always room for improvement." She paced around him, occasionally prodding and pulling the silk. "But I'll admit, you have some nice design ideas. The traditional styles aren't common these days, even for the holidays. And it's the first time I've done clothes for a cape, much less one with a tail."

"I merely gave suggestions, dear lady; as the seamstress, you chose which ones to implement."

Xiuying grunted and stopped before him. Crossing her arms, a glimmer of amusement shone from behind her flat stare. "Whatever you say, monkey. How does it feel around the arms? Too loose? Is the collar too tight?"

"No, no, it is perfect! Wide sleeves have plenty of uses! The youren as well, all quality!" He then gestured to the fur lining the collars. "Pray tell, what manner of beast is this?"

She blinked and her eyes widened by a fraction. "Huh, you really do know your hanfu. I haven't heard anyone use the word youren in ages. And that's fake fur, real ones are a pain to weave into clothes."

Fake fur? "What do you mean by 'fake'?"

She gave him that puzzled glance he was used to receiving by now. "It's not from any animal, it's fibers dyed and mixed to mimic fur. Much easier to work with and it doesn't smell as much."

Blinking for a moment, he didn't stop the chuckling.

Xiuying's eyebrow twitched. "What's so funny now?"

He swallowed the remaining laughter and composed himself, wiping a stray tear from his eye. "Nothing, just counting my blessings."

"...Capes," she muttered, shaking her head before looking him in the eye again. "This should keep you warm in any weather outside of a rainstorm or blizzard. If you feel sweaty under there, you can always pull open the collar. I wove the hair you gave me into the youren, so if what you said is true -"

"I wouldn't lie."

"We'll see," she swiftly replied. "If you're using a washer, then set it to delicate, and be careful with what goes in with it."

"Washer?"

Her eyebrow twitched again, and she waved him off. "Never mind, ask Xiao Peizhi when it gets dirty. If that's all, I've got other orders to deal with, so shoo! You can leave your old robes in that room, I'll give them a look over. Don't expect miracles, though; I'm surprised it's still in one piece."

She hunkered back to her desk and began writing in her notebook. Wukong paused, then shook his head, though the smile never left his face. 'No miracles, she says. What else would you call these fine creations?'

He returned to the back room and gathered the few items left inside. Once he did, he moseyed back to the door. Stopping at the threshold, he bowed deeply to the old woman.

"Ten thousand thanks to you, Mistress Xiuying! This Old Sun will treasure these robes for eternity hence! May the spirits above and below shield thy shop from all harm and misfortune!"

She grunted and he rose, a hand reaching for the door -

"Hey, monkey."

He turned his head. Xiuying hadn't raised her head, but her pen had stopped writing. "That girl from the school…is she with you and Xiao Peizhi?"

Hoh?

"Yes, she is. Part of her recent misfortune is my doing, so I've decided to help her."

She raised her head, fixing him with a stare that held unknown emotions and feelings. Finally, the seamstress gave a curt nod and returned to her work. Smiling, Wukong bowed his head and left the store.

'A soft heart indeed. No shame is needed, clever Xiuying.' Anticipation churning in his gut, he bounced in place. 'Let's see how these robes fare in my usual environment.'

He leapt to the nearest roof and began jumping around, from roof to roof to street. All the while, he watched the raiment on his body flowing with the wind.

'No snagging or uneven weight. Even the sash doesn't dangle that much.' A breeze sailed into his open collar and he shivered with delight. 'Hah, even better! Worthy of the heavens indeed!'

After a few more minutes of jumping about, Wukong landed on the rooftop overlooking his host's store. He would normally somersault his way down, but a few people were strolling down the street. So like any good monkey, he would honor his host's wishes of obscurity. He transformed into a cicada in a puff of smoke and flew down. A small window was fixed above the door, cranked downward, and rather inviting.

Flying through the window and into the shop, he beheld Peizhi lounging behind his counter, smartphone in hand and utterly focused.

One flash of gold later -

"Hello, Peizhi-xiansheng!"

The shopkeeper yelped and dropped his phone. Stumbling back, his head swerved to Wukong, who stood in his shop with open arms.

"You really should improve your awareness, my friend."

Peizhi clutched the countertop as his labored breath slowed. "W-Wukong! Why did you do that?"

"I intended to knock on the door, but you instructed me to remain discreet regarding our friendship," Wukong replied, scratching his chin. "The mortals outside would certainly take notice."

Peizhi's eyes darted to the door before they widened in realization. "Right. Yeah, good call." He nodded. Clambering up, he dusted himself off. "Just…warn me before you pop in like that. I know you can transform."

Wukong shrugged in acquiescence. His dear host had the nerves of a rabbit at times, but who was he to argue?

The shopkeeper moved to address him again, only for him to pause.

"Are those your new clothes?"

Wukong pulled his sleeve, showcasing it with pride. "Aren't they magnificent? Xiuying has made this Old Sun weep with exultation over her craftsmanship."

With careful steps, Peizhi approached him and examined the robe, eyes trailing over the fur-lined youren down to the ochre sash. His hand reached out, silently requesting permission, which Wukong granted with a nod.

A low whistle blew from his lips as he rubbed the cloth between his fingers. "I can see why she charged a thousand bucks for it. This is high-quality, even for her."

"She has earned her pay a lifetime over, and a new loyal customer."

Releasing the sleeve, Peizhi leaned against the counter. Wukong sauntered into the aisles, eyeing the baubles lining the shelves.

"A lack of customers yet again, Peizhi-xiansheng?"

He sighed. "Someone came in to buy a doll, but that's about it. More customers come during the holidays, but slow days are common."

"Shame. This store is quite charming." He picked up a girl's doll and focused on the stitches along its neck. What technique could produce such even stitching? "Was there anything interesting in your magic box?"

"Sort of. It actually concerns you."

Wukong turned to him, the doll still in hand. "Oh?"

Peizhi snatched the phone from the counter and turned it around, prompting him to draw closer until he could make out the picture.

Ah yes, there were phones raised at the school…

"Hmph, I look ridiculous." He snorted. "I prefer the one where I saved young Thao." He gestured to his robes with a flourish. "Honestly, I understand why the city folk avoided me back then. A gutter vagabond when compared to this resplendent state!"

"...right. Because of the robes. Of course," Peizhi muttered. "Well, it's another article painting you as a clear-cut villain. They claim you assaulted students with no remorse, kidnapped another student, and that the PRT should lock you up before any more innocent children get hurt."

Scoffing, Wukong flippantly waved him off. "Please, I informed you there was nothing innocent about that thuggish girl. I am well acquainted with your police's efforts to catch me; they will stumble and sink as the rest did."

His host paled. "Wait, don't tell me you -"

"No, I keep my word. I avoided any altercations." He stared at the ceiling and giggled. "Honestly, I find their frustration more amusing than any notion of fighting them."

"...oh. That-that's good." Peizhi's eyes flickered to the window before biting his lip. A relaxed silence descended upon them as Wukong examined the threads on his new robes.

"How is young Taylor doing?"

Peizhi's eyes flickered to the stairs. "She's still upstairs doing those exercises you told her."

Wukong perked up. "Excellent! I shall show her my new raiments! Any master must look good before his disciple." He removed himself from the counter and dipped his head. "Thank you for the compliments."

He bade to leave -

"Um, Wukong?"

"Hm? Yes?"

Alternating between him and the stairs, Peizhi tapped his fingers as uncertainty marred his features. "Taylor…she's not going home?"

'Ah. Yes, that is a good question.'

"...she hasn't expressed a desire to return so far," Wukong replied, crossing his arms. "And I have concerns of my own. It is no secret I rushed to defend her; you've shown me more than one image. This Old Sun fears for her safety should she venture out untrained. For now, she stays with me, but I will ask her opinion nonetheless."

"That's…okay, you have a point. I still can't believe a Ward bullied her; no wonder she doesn't feel safe." The shopkeeper grimaced. "But…she's staying here then?"

Wukong tilted his head. "Where else?"

Peizhi rubbed his neck, and whatever words he wished to speak chained his tongue.

"What troubles you, dear friend?" the Monkey King asked, leaning closer.

"It's just…well, I've actually wanted to talk about this before, but I never had the chance to bring it up…" he swallowed and his gaze wavered.

A matter from before? But what could he possibly refer to? There weren't any urgent -

"Ah!" Wukong cried out. Peizhi grew startled as he slapped his forehead. "Of course! Forgive this Old Sun's neglect! I should have addressed this matter sooner!"

Peizhi blinked. "You…you know?"

"I have been the most inconsiderate guest!" he exclaimed and bowed. "Here I am, bringing my problems upon your doorstep while leaving you high and dry! Did I not say I am a monkey of my word?"

"Um, yes, you said - wait, what are you referring to?"

"Your chair and cup, of course! Prized heirlooms, broken because of a fit!"

Peizhi paused, open-mouthed. Any wider and a fly would claim it as a new home.

"My…chair and cup?"

"Do not blame young Taylor for their damage; she had undergone harrowing tribulations and her emotions were unbalanced."

"I-I know, I told her that, but that's not-"

"Do not fear! As her master, I have prepared reparations!"

Wukong reached into his sleeve and pulled out a stack of paper money, almost as thick as his little finger. He presented it before his honored host on both hands and lowered waist. "I know this amount is meagre compared to their value in your heart, but this should provide enough for new ones."

…

…

"...Peizhi-xiansheng?" Wukong asked, lifting his head. Had he erred in his delivery?

Lo and behold, another impression of a fish! 'Does Peizhi-xiansheng hail from sea folk?'

"...w-where did you get that?" he shakily pointed at the money.

"'Twas liberated from unworthy hands. Pockets are deep only when the soul is clean of clutter."

"Liberated," he repeated. "R-right." His head swerved back and forth between the door and Wukong. "How much is that?"

"I haven't counted, but many are marked with the number one hundred." Wukong rifled through the slips. "Shall I place it on your counter?"

"NO!" Peizhi shouted, hands in the air. His eyes were glued to the cash, and his lips trembled. "Um…thank you, Wukong. I appreciate your…offering. Could you put it on the…kitchen table? I want to take a look at it later."

Wukong smiled. "Of course!"

Finances required the utmost attention! A task suited for the study rather than a shop's front! But the kitchen table would do in these circumstances. With that sage advice in mind, Wukong headed up the stairs.

'As always, your wits save you again, Old Sun! To leave your host speechless with joy is one of life's great honors!' As he reached the second floor, Peizhi's mumblings reached his ears. Something involving 'hundred', 'where', 'laundering' and 'why me?'

Oh Peizhi-xiansheng, may your happiness remain abundant.

After leaving the money in the kitchen, Wukong headed down the hallway until he reached his room. Hearing panting on the other side of the door, he knocked thrice and switched to English, for he had spoken with Peizhi and Xiuying in Mandarin.

"Young Taylor?"

A feminine voice squawked and seconds later, the door swung open to reveal his young disciple. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she wore a gray shirt with black pants, courtesy of Peizhi's generosity. 'He said the vendor told him it was for women's exercise. Infinite blessings upon the bachelor to ask for women's garments.'

"Master Wukong!" she exclaimed, her countenance brightening. "You're back! I mean, you said you weren't gonna take long."

Chuckling, Wukong entered the room. A pile of clothes lay folded beside the mattress, and her wooden brush was placed atop them. Wukong had graciously offered his room to Taylor, much to her protests. He waved them off, of course; sleeping on rooftops unnoticed wasn't new for him, and the night air wasn't that chilly.

"Good to see you retain your enthusiasm, disciple. How go the exercises?"

"I was on squats before you came, but I finished the breathing exercises and the stretches."

Wukong nodded. "With proper rest? And plenty of water? You nearly fainted the one time I didn't stop you."

She looked aside with obvious embarrassment. Driven was one way to describe his errant disciple. When he started her on physical exercises, she approached them with great zeal, stopping only when he told her to. When she couldn't complete a set of exercises, she looked torn between curling up and violently screaming. Thankfully, he calmed her down, telling her it was fine to fail, especially at this early stage.

"To know thy body, you must learn your limits, o disciple," he had said. "Only then can you strive to surpass them."

Time would pass before she took his words to heart. Stubbornness was a trait Wukong was very much familiar with, and it was another word he could use to describe Taylor Hebert.

"Are those new clothes?" she asked, gesturing to his robes.

"Why, yes, they are!" he twirled around and struck a pose, his left hand gripping the golden sash while the other was splayed downward. "Tell me your opinion. Is it not the most resplendent piece of clothing on Earth?"

Taylor blinked, doing as Peizhi did and looked him up and down. "It's…beautiful. They look like fancy versions of your old robes."

"Much more suitable for a monkey of my status, no? Seamstress Xiuying is the most skilled mortal weaver I've ever seen. A shining example of her talent, these robes are. While I will miss my old ones, the old must give way to the new. Also, they were starting to itch."

Wukong then clapped his hands. "But enough about robes. We can admire their quality later. For now, I wish to see your morning progress." He laced his hands behind his back and straightened his posture. "Draw an arrow."

Taylor nodded and took a wide stance. Closing her eyes, she inhaled and extended her right hand, while raising her left to her chest. His disciple then swept the extended hand and turned right, before slowly drawing it toward her heart and extending the other hand in tandem, exhaling until her right arm was cocked to her side.

"An arrow's draw must be swift, yet haste can break the string. Steady your right hand as it draws near your chest, and maintain an equal pace for both hands. Left side."

She did as he said, facing left and pulling with her other hand.

"Relax your knees. The breath will be released more easily with less stress. Right side."

Lightly bending, Taylor drew the arrow again.

"Impeccable breathing, disciple. Match it to your arrow."

He resisted the urge to giggle at Taylor's barely hidden smile. He was reminded again of a rabbit, perking up at the scent of food. Other masters might have offered only criticism, with scarcely the slightest acknowledgment of improvement. Wukong found that kind words were as good motivators as sharp ones. He hated lashing out at his monkeys, yet even they needed discipline in training.

They repeated the exercise a few more times, along with two additional ones. The faint din of the city blended with Taylor's breaths and his instructions, weaving into an atmosphere he'd heard only in this strange land. Unusual, but not unpleasant.

"Um, Master Wukong?"

"Yes, disciple?"

"When can we start training with my powers?"

Ah. He'd expected her to ask that question on their first day.

"Remember what I told you when I first gave you the exercises?" he asked. Her forehead scrunched up in thought.

"...yes. First body, then mind, and last spirit?"

"Correct. Any spiritual skill is reliant on the body and the mind. Learning the foundation of any skill is always strengthened by honing the body. It clears the mind and calms your emotions. Your powers are tied to your emotions, as Peizhi-xiansheng's chair can attest."

Another wave of embarrassment came over Taylor, and she averted her gaze.

"It is my hope that by strengthening your core foundations, control over your powers will come more easily. Not to mention that if you intend to combat the evildoers of your city, a fit body is a minimum requirement. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah, you have a point. I'm not exactly an athlete," she said, gesturing to her arms. Her body was not spindly, but she would barely qualify for any fighting sect.

"Do not despair," he replied with a comforting tone. "If you stick to my regimen, I'll have you lifting mountains in no time, just like in my youth!"

"...lifting mountains?" she asked, her voice dripping with the sauce of skepticism. "Really?"

"Hm, maybe stone pillars. A better fit for your build." Taylor's eyebrow twitched, but he cut her off from any questions. "Let us not worry about the ifs and focus on the nows. Arrow, again!"

'And there are a few things I wish to confirm before delving into her new abilities,' he thought and activated his Golden Eyes. The shapeless golden apparition hovered above Taylor, warping and distorting space as it thrummed. Yet Wukong focused on the golden motes of light that floated around the girl, drawing closer and farther with every breath she took. 'A peculiarity which is the result of my interference. 'Tis better she has the physical and mental strength to withstand any unfortunate side effects from this.'

Not to say that there were no side effects already. Her progress, even after a week, was…faster than he anticipated. Not at the rate of speed he achieved during his youth, far from it, but when it came to her purely physical traits, there was a higher margin.

I wonder…

"What now?" she asked, straightening her glasses.

Eager and driven. All good traits for a disciple. Yet there was an issue he needed to address, and Peizhi was right to bring it up.

"Taylor, do you wish to speak with your father?"

Her eyes widened and he saw her body tense up. 'I suspected as much. She hasn't brought him up since she agreed to stay.'

Wukong walked up to Taylor and placed a gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder, snapping her from her stupor.

"I know that your father is a sensitive subject for you, but from what you have told this Old Sun, he does care for you. I offered you shelter here, and you are welcome to stay as long as you please. But I am sure he would cherish hearing his daughter's voice and to know she is well."

She bit her lip, her brown eyes avoiding his red ones. With clenched hands, she struggled with herself for a few moments before answering.

"...I don't even know if he's home. The PRT might've gotten to him by now."

"I will guarantee your safety no matter what. If discretion is what you desire, then no one but us will know of your meeting."

She blinked. "You can do that? But they're probably holding him in their headquarters."

"Your point?" He'd never visited the island fortress of the PRT (and they also had a glass spire inland), but breaking in to extract her father shouldn't be harder than sneaking through the gates of the underworld.

"...thanks," she replied, after overcoming her bewilderment. She then rubbed her arm. "But…can we wait a little before I decide?"

Stubborn indeed. A lesser scholar would chastise her lack of filial piety, but Wukong knew enough of the world beyond the sacred teachings to understand familial issues weren't always clear-cut.

"As you wish."

But there was a deeper issue here, one that he wouldn't pry into…for now.

She gave a tiny nod of thanks as her distressed face softened. That wouldn't do.

"So!" he exclaimed, returning his hand behind his back. "I think we should start with a stronger set of exercises. Breathing and stretches are all vital, but you must accustom your body to greater motion."

He looked around the room, noting its small size. Perfect for sleeping and private meditation, but less so for the wider range of exercises he planned. And when the time would come for sparring, it would never suffice.

"Hm, disciple. Do you know of any place in the city suitable for training? One where we shan't be intruded upon?"

Taylor grasped her chin and hummed. "Um, I'm not sure. I don't really know where capes can train if they're not with the Wards or the Protectorate. There's the boat graveyard, but it's the most obvious place to look for new capes."

Ah, the scrapyard with the metal ships. 'Plenty of room and targets…yes, rather obvious.'

"That won't do at all!" he exclaimed. "My disciple deserves the best conditions to train in! Stay put, I shall find us a location befitting us!"

He went to the window and swung it open, allowing the noontime breeze to flow into the room. "Meditate in silence for now until I return. I won't be long. Oh, and tell me your favored flavor of nachos."

"Wait, nachos?"

Before she could continue, Wukong leapt out the window and back to the rooftops. He hopped again from roof to roof, trying to pinpoint any possible location. There were many houses in the city and great swaths of land; the trouble was, he didn't know if any of them were abandoned or uninhabited.

It still baffled him how so many mortals could live in one city, and according to Taylor, this city was on the smaller end of the scale! One city had a population of 8 million! How was that even done?

But as Wukong pondered the quandaries of absurd mortal populations, he reached the end of the district, and a peculiar sight caught his eye.

A group of thugs was engaged in a clash with another group. One group he recognized as the bald ones, belonging to the same group who threatened the dark-skinned lad on his first day. The Empire Eighty-Eight, per Peizhi's words. Among their usual crimes, they enjoyed preying on Peizhi's countrymen. Foolish men, to use such an auspicious number for nefarious goals, no doubt hoping its luck will bless their endeavors. Shame on them. But they were commonplace, and he'd slapped a few of them silly days hence.

It was the group fighting them that drew the majority of his attention. Smaller in number, five compared to eight, they bore the garments of the false long's men, including horned yaksha masks tied with bandanas. But something was unusual. The way they moved: precise, sharp, silent…these were trained men, not street thugs like the ruffians from earlier.

Wukong perched on the roof and observed as the battle continued. A younger bald one drew his thunder-weapon against one of the false long's men and fired. Wukong winced at the sound, his sensitive ears ringing. To Wukong's surprise, no grievous wound appeared as he'd seen on other men. The masked man was very much injured, but he managed to use his own thunder-weapon to blow a hole in the bald one's head. Only then did he collapse hard against the black road.

His Golden Eyes detected no magic or apparition power. Armor then? One that could halt thunder-weapons?

Once they beat the last one down, the remaining four brought their legs down on each of the remaining bald thugs' arms, breaking them and leaving the thugs crying in agony. Then they deprived the thugs of whatever was in their pockets before one tucked something in the bald leader's jacket.

Finally, the warriors, for that was their nature when compared to the bald bandits, gathered their injured comrades and climbed into a big black car before driving off. Wukong rubbed his chin, curiosity welling up in his mind. Did the sudden loss of their leader embolden them to train? If so, why had he not encountered them? Surely they would seek revenge against the humiliation of their group.

How odd. And he hadn't even found a proper training ground yet.

'Never a dull day in this queer city of Brockton Bay, eh?'

Chapter Text

Now we were speaking of the Handsome Monkey King, who, having received his name, jumped about joyfully and went forward to give Subodhi his grateful salutation. The Patriarch then ordered the congregation to lead Sun Wukong outdoors and to teach him how to sprinkle water on the ground and dust, and how to speak and move with proper courtesy. The company of immortals obediently went outside with Wukong, who then bowed to his fellow students. They prepared thereafter a place in the corridor where he might sleep. Next morning he began to learn from his schoolmates the arts of language and etiquette. He discussed with them the scriptures and the doctrines; he practiced calligraphy and burned incense. Such was his daily routine. In more leisurely moments he would be sweeping the grounds or hoeing the garden, planting flowers or pruning trees, gathering firewood or lighting fires, fetching water or carrying drinks. He did not lack for whatever he needed, and thus he lived in the cave without realizing that six or seven years had slipped by. One day the Patriarch Subodhi ascended the platform and took his high seat. Calling together all the immortals, he began to lecture on a great doctrine. He spoke:

With words so florid and eloquent

That gold lotus sprang up from the ground.

The doctrine of three vehicles he subtly rehearsed,

Including even the laws' minutest title.

The yak's-tail waved slowly and spouted elegance:

His thunderous voice moved e'en the Ninth Heaven.

For a while he lectured on Dao;

For a while he spoke on Chan—

To harmonize the Three Parties is a natural thing.

One word's elucidation filled with truth

Points to the birthless showing nature's mystery

Journey to the West, chapter 2

Sun Wukong relished, among other things such as a good napping spot and some tasty fruit, challenges. Ever since he was a young monkey frolicking about Flower-Fruit Mountain, adversity was a familiar face. To overcome and endure the tribulations of the world was the only path to greatness, to truly know thyself and the world around you. Was it not through the dare made by his simian brothers, to leap through the great Water Curtain, that he discovered the grotto and was crowned king for his bravery? Creation would have been a sadder place had he not taken that dare. Through the multitude of challenges thrown his way - or he caused himself - in the course of his long life, Wukong always faced them head-on, and had a good laugh by the end.

That being said, there were moments which were…not impossible per se (a word in his vocabulary which he seldom used, if ever), but irritating. Finding the solution to a challenge did not come in a flash of inspiration most of the time, as children would read in the stories. It often involved copious trial and error, and a great deal of prior consideration.

And that was where Wukong found himself, perched upon his host's roof and staring into the distance, contemplating the logistics of what appeared to be a rather trivial task.

'How hard can it be to find a proper training ground within this city?'

Reaching into the bag in his hand, he withdrew a handful of candied orange peels and scarfed them down, hoping the sugar would provide a revelation.

'Were it just myself, I could easily find a spot within the city and perform my meditation, or even leap to a random mountain nearby.' He stroked his chin and helped himself to another serving. 'The main issue, of course, is Taylor. I am…loath to withdraw her from the city so soon, even for training. If she wishes to become its protector, my disciple must live among its people and become known to them. She is not like my monkey subjects; she is too fragile. Yet fending off these heroes and bandits seeking her will prove…disruptive at this stage. No, she is a beginner, and this Old Sun must build her foundations.'

He tossed a single slice into the air. With a flick of his tail, he punted it right back into his gaping jaws, chewing happily. 'Hmm, perhaps these mortals' fondness for excess sugar is not too off-putting. If only I had some fresh peaches and pomegranate seeds on hand. A nice bowl and I'd have the most delightful snack!'

Swallowing the last piece, Wukong fiddled with the empty bag as his thoughts returned to the pressing dilemma. 'It needs to be a wide space with plenty of room for exercise. Plenty of air and correct feng shui for proper meditation is a priority as well. That already rules out a great deal of places in this city. The ones left are rather…visible, for good and ill - but mostly ill in these circumstances.'

There were large plots of land adjacent to wealthy-looking houses on the western borders of the city, near the forest and woodlands. Were these the manors of the local nobility? These were viable options, but Wukong had enough experience with mortals to know that when nobles or wealthy merchants saw 'lessers' encroaching on their property, it became everyone's problem and ended with platoons of guards ready to string fleshy beads out of the intruders.

A snort escaped his nostrils as he crumpled the bag into a tiny ball.

'Bah, while I sit here and balance hollow weights, precious time slips through my disciple's fingers!' He rose and dusted off his robes. 'This Old Sun cannot dally while she strives to improve herself! As a Master, I should be ashamed!'

Fine thoughts, but Wukong knew he couldn't bury his rather valid concerns. Tossing the rolled-up bag between his palms, he ruminated on the matter for several minutes, weighing and judging the various locations of Brockton Bay he'd scouted so far. None of them were perfect, but at this early stage, he didn't seek perfection. Just somewhere he could impart his teachings without disruption.

No, without too much disruption. Knowing his luck, he was sure an incident would occur sooner or later.

'Well, no use dawdling around.'

With that thought in mind, Wukong transformed into a cicada and flew back into the house, upon which he returned to his normal self. Opening his disciple's door, he smiled amusedly at the sight of Taylor sitting cross-legged and performing his breathing exercises.

"What did I say about proper rest, my disciple?"

Her eyes shot open and a squeak escaped her lips before she met his gaze, surprise and embarrassment flooding her.

"Ah-um, Master Wukong! I know what you said, but I felt like I could really improve what you showed me and-"

"To overcome your weakness is a virtue," Wukong cut her off. "But not at the expense of your health. What else did you repeat?"

"Just the breathing and some of the stretchings." He stared into her eyes and she grumbled, a hint of sulkiness creeping through. "I swear, just those!"

He chuckled and waved at her to calm down. "Do not fret, dear girl; in fact, I wish to pose several questions regarding this city."

At her nod, Wukong continued. "Recall how this Old Sun stated that he shall find a place suitable enough for you to train in? Well, I seem to have hit a snag. Much of this city is unknown to me, and so far the locations I have scouted, including the boat graveyard you mentioned, are somewhat lacking. Are you sure there are no other locations?"

Taylor pursed her lips, and Wukong could tell her mind was racing. "Well, I don't really know that much. If we're avoiding the gangs and the PRT, then they'll find out sooner or later." She shrunk in on herself at those words. "I know there are warehouses on the southeast side of town, but I don't know if anyone else is using them. There's also the Trainyard but -"

Wukong's ears perked up.

"Train yard? Where?"

Taylor blinked at his grin. "…the north. West of the docks. I haven't been there, but it's not that far."

How fortuitous! Karma had provided them with a prime opportunity! A training yard, and not far from their doorstep!

"Splendid!" he clasped his hands eagerly. "We must inspect it at once!"

Before his disciple could utter another word, he rushed out the door. "Come come, no time to dawdle! The sun is up and the rats hide in their tunnels!"

"Wha-wait up!"

Wukong rushed down the stairs and stopped before the shop's entrance. Peizhi, hunched over the counter, took one look at him and returned to his phone, attempting to break it with his stare.

"I am venturing out with Taylor for a while, Peizhi-xiansheng. We should return by dinner."

"Uh-huh." A rather dull reply. Hmm, and another twitch in the arm. His host's twitching had increased since he'd gifted him the cash. His eyes also kept darting to the stairs, as though some unspeakable horror was lurking on the floor above. Why, last night, Wukong spotted him in his room, clutching a wooden box and muttering in a mix of tongues and dialects with such speed he couldn't keep up.

'Ah, his gratitude has left him in a stupor! This Old Sun must really sit down and provide him with insight into the moderation of humility and pride. He seems to have trouble balancing them.'

Taylor then came down the stairs, wearing a dark 'hoodie'. A funny name for a dull garment…though it was rather popular with the youth. Utilitarian as well!

"W-we're going there now?" she asked, adjusting her glasses.

"Yes!" He kicked open the door and grabbed his disciple. In an instant, Wukong was atop a nearby rooftop, carrying Taylor in both arms. He held back a chuckle at her bewildered gaze, flickering back and forth between himself and the street below.

He knew he shouldn't surprise a frail one such as her…but it was too much fun to ignore.

"C-could you at least warn me before you do that?" she exclaimed before her mouth clamped tight, with strands of her now-frazzled hair caught between her lips.

"Life may carry you to unexpected places, o disciple. You must always be ready to stand your ground, no matter where your feet might end up." She tilted her head, the bafflement remaining.

"Now, where did you say this Train Yard was?"

She scanned her surroundings gingerly, first at the sea to the east and then to the west before raising a finger and pointing behind him. "If the ocean's to the east…that way."

Wukong turned his head in the direction of her finger, focusing his gaze on an area where no glass spires rose. The midday breeze didn't blow eastward, but Wukong's sensitive nose caught traces of rust and iron emanating from that direction. Hmph, so much dereliction in this city…he would endure, but it was mildly unpleasant. The wealth of the mountains for some good incense!

"Hold tight!"

Gripping his disciple tightly, Wukong hopped on rooftops, with Taylor's panicked yelps filling the air. As they ventured out of the district, he spotted a large PRT car - a 'van' - rolling around. Maybe a quick hello…no, priorities!

After a minute or two, Wukong finally landed in the middle of a…well, derelict was certainly the proper word for it…enclosure. Iron lines ran parallel to each other along the ground, stretching into the westward distance. Metallic boxes, reaching twice his height, with paint so faded it melded with the rust, maintained a silent vigil among weeds and trash. Between them, he spotted a fence encircling the yard, not of stone or wood, but of even more metal, laced in diamond patterns. Wukong sniffed the air and frowned as an odious scent violated his nose, a mixture of human waste and other unknowns whose true nature he'd rather remain ignorant of.

'By the eighteen hells, do these people have aversions to cleanliness? And such a waste of metal! Honestly, are there no forges around that can melt down and reshape this clutter?'

"Disciple, are you sure this is the place?"

Taylor blinked at his question, still held in his arms and frazzled. Regaining her bearing, she looked around in discomfort, no doubt sharing his reaction. "Um…yeah. There isn't anywhere else in the city where trains can go. They don't run through much anymore but…this is it."

Wukong held back a scoff. Absurd! Such disorder and jumble…how could anyone train in such squalid conditions? At least the shipyard had a view of the sea -

Wait.

"Trains?" he stared at his disciple. "What are trains?"

Was there something in her words that he missed? Did she not refer to this place as a Training Yard?

If the confusion Taylor displayed in Peizhi's house was a candle, then the sight of her dropped jaw and choking noises was a volcano erupting with enough force to destroy the Polestar Palace. Wukong remained where he was, still holding onto his disciple, partially because he feared she would collapse if he released her right away.

Eventually, Taylor reached into her core and found her voice again, though the befuddlement remained.

"A…a train is a…car, or a series of cars…that move along rails…like the ones over there."

Wukong stared past her at the iron strips and metal boxes on the ground. Indeed, one of the boxes had wheels affixed to the bottom, inlaid with a wide groove. So these…carts ran on these tracks, as cars would run on the black stone?

Fascinating, but what did that have to do with -

"…ah."

It should be noted that despite sampling from the knowledge of the six realms and cultivating from the eternal font of Sukhavati, even the fabled Mantra of Amitabha, when bestowing the understanding of tongues, suffered from translation errors regarding the more…plebeian aspects of language, such as expressions and homophones. While Wukong experienced a similar lapse beforehand, the wonder of the moment afterward had caused it to slip his mind.

It would've proven a moment of great dishonor and shame, for failing to interpret such a simple rule, but fortunately, the Monkey King cleared his throat and set Taylor down, maintaining dignity befitting of a former official of the Heavenly Court.

"...yes, thank you. Forgive this Old Sun, his ears aren't what they were in his youth."

Of course, within the confines of his head, he was smacking himself repeatedly while cursing and begging for the Lightning of Tribulation to strike him down and spare him the embarrassment of shaming his disciple with his ignorance. After all that talk of setting an example! Master Tang would disown him outright; this time, for good! Not even Guanyin, the merciful lady herself, would excuse his behavior!

Nonetheless, he must endure. He gave the area another scan, stroking his mane in the same dignified manner. He still thought it unsuitable for mostly anything…but it was feasible, at least until he found a better alternative. All they needed was a spot where the fence and the cars would obscure them. The ground might require some tidying up and he'd have to move a cart or two to allow better feng shui…

…it couldn't be worse than the Pig's stomach.

"This will suffice for now. Follow me."

He marched ahead between the carts, avoiding broken bottles and clumps of rotten garbage. Taylor followed him like a duckling, though he could feel her puzzled eyes linger. The scent of mortals was nearby, but it was mixed with so much foulness and neglect he didn't bother. If they came, he would turn them away. Anyone who chose to dwell here was either beyond desperation or beyond regard.

Eventually, Wukong found a patch bereft of weeds or trash. Spotting four metal cars lying nearby, Wukong walked over to one and hefted it up, holding the metallic construct with both hands.

'Hm, a few thousand or so catties [1] heavier than my staff. Crude yet effective light training implements for the future.'

The metal creaked under his palms as he walked around Taylor and placed it on the ground behind her. Ignoring her sputtering and wide eyes, he repeated the motion with three more carts of identical size and arranged them along the four cardinal directions. Satisfied, he walked into the makeshift square and clapped.

"I am flattered by your awe, my dear, but there shall be plenty of time for that later. Before we begin, I want to try something different."

Despite her earlier mystification, Taylor quickly recovered and listened intently. "Like what?"

"Your powers."

For a moment she froze, and then a slow but eager grin overcame her. "You mean…you want me to use them? But you said that I should focus on my foundations first."

"Indeed, and you will still do that. However, during my rooftop meditation, it occurred to me that we should at least infer their basic functions before we commit to further plans."

The barely audible 'finally' under her breath didn't escape his ears, though he pretended not to notice. She nodded tucked in her arms, ready to use her newfound gift -

"Ah, I recommend you discard your jacket, disciple of mine. You wouldn't wish to damage Peizhi-xiansheng's generosity, no?"

Wukong held back a chuckle as Taylor nearly tore off the jacket, revealing her long-sleeved shirt. Ah, the joys of youth! Not that he would act differently; at least he apologized to the guai whose homes he wrecked when trying out his staff for the first time.

Taylor closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. The moment her breath left her body, her fists clenched and a thin veil of anger marred her features. A shimmer bloomed from behind her, and the fusion of clinking glass and rustling leaves filled the air.

'She's been practicing in secret…how far did she go?'

The golden leaves began streaming out of her back, coalescing into the twin pairs of wings that steadily grew longer with each leaf that joined the end. But once the wing reached past her head, her knees buckled.

A heartbeat later, Wukong was in front of her, raising his arms reassuringly and speaking in a gentle tone.

"Taylor, remember the breathing. Are you in pain?"

She forced herself to breathe again before wincing. "It's…yes, no…it stings…and when I use it…I remember…"

Wukong's lips twitched downwards before he composed himself. He feared this would happen, which was why he asked her to abstain beforehand. Emotion played a big factor in her powers…but from where? Was she recalling the incident?

"I want you to focus only on your back. Do not open your eyes, do not think of anything else. Those jade-masked pigs? The swords of their scorn and jealousy can no longer stab you. You are safe with me; I give you my word as the Monkey King."

Steadily, Taylor's breathing evened out, the raspiness of her breath smoothing into a wavy gust. More golden leaves streamed around her wings, spiraling around them and joining at the tips. Thus, it continued, with each breath lengthening the glowing appendages. The chiming and rustling of the leaves drowned all noises around them, singing a tongueless ode to the winds. Finally, his disciple released one more breath, and the shaking that plagued her ceased.

Wukong stepped back, admiring the wings at their full size. Their size was the same as when they first appeared in the school, more than a bu [2] in length for the primary set, extending above her head, and half a bu's length for the secondary set reaching below her elbows. The leaves had melded into the wings perfectly, arranged in flowing, wave-like patterns.

'Such a simplistic ability at first glance, one used by celestial maidens and spirits to preen and vaunt. It evokes no fear or dread before the forces of evil, nor inspires hope to legions…yet the same could be said regarding my staff. A simple pillar wasting beneath the sea became renowned across the realms in my hands.' Wukong didn't stop the creeping grin from splitting his face. 'And I would bet the Garden of Immortal Peaches that your power will receive the same reception in your hands, dear girl.'

"Um, did I do it?" Taylor asked, opening her eyes. Her firsts were still clenched at her sides, but the aura of dread from her dark memories had abated.

"Turn your head and see for yourself, disciple."

Taylor did as he told, slowly craning her head until she glimpsed the aureate shape.

"That…that's my power?" she whispered. "I…I didn't know…I thought it was just the leaves. What are they? Wings? Can I fly?"

"All excellent questions, and we shall endeavor to answer them. For now, try walking. Control your breathing, and do not release your concentration."

Taylor did so and took tentative steps around the yard, eyes constantly flickering to her wings. They shimmered and gleamed with every step, and every vibration sent the faint sound of rustling leaves into the air.

"Try moving them around. Keep your arms against your body."

A puzzled look crossed her face as she tried to figure out his instructions. She rolled her shoulders and brought her arms closer to her chest. Her wings shifted with the movement of her arms, drawing both closer and further apart depending on how she moved. Strangely enough, they bent and curved whenever Taylor drew them closer, in contrast to their rigid appearance. The leaves rippled in place in tune with the motions, akin to mahjong tiles flipping with perfect synchronicity.

'Flexible. Intriguing. Hundreds of those leaves, linked together and woven like cloth.'

His disciple, bless her inquisitive mind, began experimenting on her own, albeit with limited success. She tried bringing the wings over her face but they refused to pass her shoulder level. Rapidly moving her shoulder caused them to flap, but not at the pace she desired, if her furrowed brow meant anything. When she tried to reach for the lower wings, they pulled away at the last second…but so did she.

'Reservations and hesitance about her own power? No, the memories involved? Understandable, for now at least.'

She directed her gaze to the northern cart, and Wukong spotted her fists clenching again. What was she bracing for?

That question was answered when she sharply turned her elbow and the wing slammed against the metal box. The scream of iron rang through the yard as the glowing appendage bounced off and sent Taylor stumbling back. Wukong hopped over and grabbed her arm, preventing her from meeting the dirt.

"Careful, child. Are you alright?" he asked.

Despite being shaken by the attempt, she quickly nodded. "Y-yeah. I just thought that…well, these…wings…have to do something."

"Patience, disciple," he gently chided. "A thousand miles cannot begin without a single step. We have only beheld a fraction of this power's capabilities; it is presumptuous to assume that is its limits." He then gestured with his head to the crate. "And we are already seeing results."

Right at the ledge where the wing struck, the metal had dented deep, about a hand's length inward. Focusing on the newly formed cavity, Wukong noticed that some of the metal appeared…sheared.

'A blade and a club,' he thought, eyeing the dent and the wings. 'Hmm…versatile indeed.'

"Try again. Strike the crate twice, using the same motion," he said and stepped back.

Taylor looked at him with nervous eyes, a shiver running through her thin frame as a winter breeze flew by. Wukong gave her his most reassuring smile and gestured at the crate. Steeling herself again, Taylor swung her shoulders in succession, and steel rang twice more.

Two more dents appeared, slanting downward, and each groove bore a narrow cut within. Her golden wings shimmered behind her, illuminating the faint rising of her lips.

"Excellent, o disciple. With every drop of sweat, the cloak of mystery shadowing your powers unravels. Now, repeat the strike, but visualize a blade. Instead of a blunt stick, imagine a perfect line, parting all under it. Do not seek to bash the metal, but to cut."

"Cut?" she asked, then she narrowed her eyes at the dents before an 'oh' of understanding escaped her. She tucked in her arms, and with a barely-hidden grunt, she swung her shoulder, a far sharper motion than last time. The wing swung toward the cart, bending as it trailed through the air before swiping the metal. Metal shrieked once more under the sun, and a tear had indeed appeared on the crate's side. Compared to a man's wound, it was naught but a shallow cut…

…but the shaky laugh of his disciple elevated it to the parting of an ocean.

"A mighty blow indeed!" Wukong exclaimed with applause. "How do you feel?"

"...strange. It's like an arm is coming out of my back, but I'm not feeling it. And…I don't know how to say it, but I feel a bit…lighter?" her nose wrinkled at her words. "I thought I'd feel tired but…it's like air was pumped into my lungs."

Taylor swung her wings several more times, and to his surprise, the wings adjusted themselves as they sailed through the air, with the edge always facing forward. Then, without any input, his disciple narrowed her eyes and tried again. This time, however, the flat side of the wings struck the ground, leaving a thick imprint.

'Heightened limb control. Impressive,' Wukong thought as the girl lightly panted, staring at her handiwork.

"How are you feeling?"

"Still not tired," she replied. "I mean, I was for a second, but it's gone now."

Wukong raised an eyebrow. That was odd. Weariness did cling to her, but he had little way of knowing how much was emotional or physical. And she should feel at least a tad winded, considering her skill level. However…

He activated his Golden Eyes, observing the world beneath its material shell. The fragmented, ever-shifting form of Taylor's apparition hovered before him, expanding and contracting amidst a river of green and black. He held back a grimace, lest he upset his student; there were some truths he would rather not be reminded of every time he used his eyes. Investigating these apparitions was far more unpleasant because of it.

The flashing thread linking Taylor to her apparition pulsated in tandem with the shimmering of her wings. As Wukong observed the hidden spectacle, gleaming sparks hovered and flitted around his disciple, drawing ever nearer.

'First my sorry attempt at healing, then her impressive recovery time…and now she claims to feel rejuvenated?' His eyes followed a mote of light as it flew from the river of miasma and into her wings, vanishing in a flicker. 'I had my suspicions at first, but seeing this…'

"Disciple!" he called out. "Draw your arrow. Repeat until I give the word."

Taylor immediately nodded and began the exercise, settling into her stance and swiping her arm across her torso. As her arm finished the crescent motion, the motes of light rushed down her wings and into her body. And when she drew back the arm and extended the other, a pulse of gold flashed around her.

Wukong felt his jaw drop before forcing it shut. He was aware that his…interference with her apparition's awakening had caused changes, but this?

She repeated the exercise, and the phenomenon continued. Every breath drew in those fragile lights from around, and every exhale suffused them.

'…my word. There can be no doubt.'

A blink later and the world returned to normal. "You may stop now," he said, not bothering to hide his excitement.

"What's wrong?" Taylor asked. "Did I mess up?"

"Far from it! Observe your arms."

Taylor looked down and yelped at the sight of the faint shine enveloping her arms. A moment later, it vanished without a trace.

"What the f- what was that!?" she exclaimed, frantically looking over her shoulders at the wings.

"Peace, dear child. This Old Sun believes we have witnessed another aspect of your abilities."

"My…what do you mean?" her eyes threatened to bulge from her glasses.

Wukong chuckled and strolled up to her. "Tell me, when you performed the exercise, did you feel the same lightness in your chest? "

The inquiry halted whatever questions Taylor had as she bit her lip in unsurety. "A little? I still emptied my lungs like you said, but I didn't feel the strain like before."

He let out a bark of laughter. "That settles it! Rejoice, dear Taylor! Your wings are more than mere constructs!"

Raising his finger to the heavens, he then pointed at her dramatically. "They are conduits! What you can manipulate, my disciple, is qi!"

A gust of wind flew by as Taylor gaped at his proclamation. Wukong smiled patiently, letting her digest the information. It was a momentous feat, for sure; a practitioner would require years of meditation and study before they could even begin to gather qi at the rate she showed. No doubt her elation would soar even further. Oh, the excitement of the young, he'd witnessed it countless times -

"Qi? What's qi?"

…

…

…

"...you have never heard of qi before?"

Taylor shook her head in the negative. "Not really. I've seen it mentioned in Chinese places like those acupuncture salons near the boardwalk and on the net, but that's it."

"...oh."

Wukong's eyebrow twitched. That explained a great deal, even though he struggled to believe it. This was absurd! When he wandered the lands in his youth, even the simplest of peasants were aware of qi and the importance of maintaining its proper flow! It was a basic principle, passed down from father to son, from elder to child since the first days! No wonder the qi was so foul in this city, there was no effort to cultivate it! How could an entire city - nay, maybe further - not be aware of qi?

"Um, Master Wukong? Are you okay?"

He blinked and flashed his concerned disciple another grin. "A stray thought, dear Taylor; nothing you need concern yourself. Do not fear, for this Old Sun shall elucidate!"

After using his tail to swipe some of the trash away, The Monkey King sat down in the lotus position and gestured for Taylor to do the same. Once she made herself mostly comfortable, he cleared his throat and began to recite from distant memory:

"In all of creation, there flows a vital energy which connects all living beings. It is in the air, the water, the mountains, and the sun. It runs within the rivers, sails on the breeze and flows through the body. It shapes the world as much as the world shapes it. Without it, life could not exist. That energy, disciple mine, is called qi."

Taylor was utterly focused on his words, though he detected rising skepticism. Even after all she's seen?

"When you breathe, it is not just air that enters and leaves your body," Wukong said as he gestured to himself. "Qi circulates through you, in and out until you leave this earth. To maintain a healthy body, it is important to maintain a steady flow of qi through your meridians. Most mortals go through their lives knowing only these basic facts…but you are my disciple, and thus a cut above most mortals."

He held back a giggle as she grew flustered, trying to retreat into the jacket which wasn't even on her person.

"With proper training, one can increase the flow of qi circulating through their body. When the flow passes a certain threshold, the qi begins to affect the body acutely, improving its functionality. Does that sound familiar?"

"... everything you just said sounds a lot like those yoga scams on the internet," she hesitantly said, though her gaze flickered to her lungs. "I mean, they're wings. Maybe it's solar power, and the wings are like panels that turn sunlight into energy?"

Solar power? Yet another strange term, but thankfully easier to discern than 'train'. "So mortals have discovered a way to harness the sun's light? Interesting, but no. Few are as knowledgeable about qi as I am, and this Old Sun sees the qi coursing through your body."

Taylor's eyes narrowed briefly as she rubbed her chin. Her focus flitted between the wings and him again, and more mumblings rolled from between her lips, spewing strange words. What was infrared?

"Solar power gives off heat. I think that's what you're seeing."

If her skepticism was any louder, the sky would have shattered under its reverb.

"I know heat when I see it, child. The energy that courses through your arms radiates it, but it is far more than mere heat."

…how baffling. How ignorant were these people? Qi was as fundamental as air and water.

Tearing away from her wings, Taylor's focus was now entirely on her arms, where the sun's light shone upon the faintest aura of gold.

"...say you're right…what else can…qi…do?"

"Oh, the list is beyond measure. With proper cultivation, qi no longer merely sustains the body but improves it." Wukong plucked a hair from his head and turned it into a knife, bringing it down on his other hand immediately after. Taylor jumped back in surprise…

…only to see a bent blade and an unharmed palm.

Taylor leaned closer, searching for a wound. "That wasn't your powers?"

"Qi at its simplest application, my dear; and that demonstration was a parlor trick compared to the vast repertoire of a master." Of course, being a magic stone monkey meant that Wukong was naturally resilient against most mortal weapons, but he spoke no lies. She opened her mouth to ask but Wukong brought his hand up. "Do not rush to expectations, my disciple. To even reach this rather simple stage requires great dedication and effort. Your powers provide you an advantage that most practitioners would kill to have, but it is no instant solution."

Taylor was mollified by his words, and her wings vibrated in place. For a moment he was reminded of a dragonfly perched on a branch, watching a babbling brook. The leaves within the wings rippled again, and the construct wobbled in an unseen wind.

'Hm, there is more at work here…but what else?'

"Can you retract them?" he asked.

Taylor paused and grimaced. "I…think so, yes."

She closed her eyes and exhaled. The wings vibrated but otherwise didn't budge. After a few seconds, her knuckles turned white. Wukong reached over and gently grasped her shoulder.

"Relax," he whispered. "Release your fears and doubts to the wind."

His disciple's scrunched-up face loosened with his words, and moments later, the wings slowly broke off, dissipating into golden leaves that blew into the azure sky. When the last one vanished from her back, Taylor opened her eyes and reached backward, trying to feel the nonexistent constructs, but only touched bare skin.

"I did it…" she whispered. She then looked Wukong in the eye. "What now?"

Wukong caught a stray leaf in his fingers and rubbed it, his curiosity growing as he felt texture in his hands. 'Solid?'

"Now?" He rose from his position and offered her a hand. "We adapt. There are several more exercises I wish for you to try, and you must get used to moving around with your powers. If you have any hesitation, voice it."

Taylor accepted the offered hand and rose, her determined look returning. "I'm not backing down."

Wukong grinned, and he snickered internally at the slightest widening of her eyes. "Oh, we shall see."

He then gestured to the makeshift cart circle. "For now, run around these carts until I tell you to stop. When I clap my hands, you will stop and activate your wings again, then resume running. I clap again, you stop and retract them."

Allowing her a little time to process the task, Wukong crossed his arms behind him as Taylor looked at the four carts.

"Can I try to hit the boxcars when you clap?"

Wukong perked up and nodded. "Excellent suggestion! If you are to use your powers in combat, all scenarios must be examined!"

Taylor smiled, despite a lingering hesitation. Aeons - or was it a few seconds - passed, and Wukong snapped his fingers.

"Idle water does not flow, disciple! Pick up your feet!"

"Yeah, sorry!" With those words, Taylor took off to the edges of the circle and started running. Wukong sat down on the ground and pulled out a bag of dried bananas from his robes. Opening it, he savored the faint scent of fruit before popping one in his mouth, watching as the girl he'd plucked from shadows, amidst a canvas of disrepair and neglect, run vigorously in the sunlight.

'I should figure out a solution to the clothes problem. Peizhi-xiansheng's generosity shouldn't be abused.' Wukong finished munching on the banana piece and raised his hands to clap. 'As for her training, I have some ideas. But oh, what fun this will be!'

"Is this accurate?"

"I want to say no, but nothing else makes sense."

Kaiser leaned back, a restrained sigh escaping his lips. "I admit, this wasn't in the range of my predictions. With their leader gone, the Asians have no lynchpin or shield. How good were they?"

Crusader, or Justin in his current guise, shifted in place, a frown marring his otherwise handsome features. "Too good, almost military-style. The guys who made it back described them as, and I quote, 'something out of a bad Vietnam movie'. Rifles, vests, demon masks, the whole shebang. By the time I went there to investigate, there wasn't any sign of them."

"Transportation as well…" he mumbled and idly stared at the statue to his left. It was a beautiful piece, gifted to him as thanks for Medhall's contributions. But right now, its twisting steel branches almost seemed mocking, mirroring the sudden problem dropped onto his lap.

"I presume the assailants didn't spew out anything useful?" At Justin's shake, he frowned. "This makes little sense. The ABB was a rabble held by a cautious brute. To suddenly get both nerve and proper training to match…and nothing else was claimed? No proclamation or warning even?"

"No, they just came in, fists and guns blazing, then left. A few hours later, I got reports of another attack on Somer's street. Chinks wearing the same masks stopped them on the sidewalk and beat the tar outta them before slitting one boy's throat. Next thing they knew, they were gone."

Kaiser tapped the table, his vista showing no signs of discontentment, yet the gears were spinning fast. For a fallen gang to recover so quickly…

"This debacle reeks of outside help. A blow such as the ones they suffered is not shaken off easily."

"Maybe it's Oni Lee?" Justin asked. "We haven't spotted him in a while. He could've trained them."

"That is…not beyond the realm of possibility," he acquiesced. "It is also likely that either he or the remaining captains of the ABB scrounged up whatever was left in their coffers to hire trained muscle. Perhaps it is even a combination of the two."

Justin crossed his arms and stared out the panoramic window. "We can't let them get away with this. Attacking our men in broad daylight? We need to hit back."

"I agree," Kaiser said. "But certain facts don't add up. When you visited the locations where our men were attacked, there were no signs of any ABB men moving in?"

"Nothing. No tags, not even a chink loitering around."

"Then these attacks are meant to send a message: to show they were alive and active. But why did they not attempt to reclaim any territory? There were no reports of attacks on the turf the Empire claimed following Lung's defeat, and Alabaster reported no unusual activity on the streets."

A ping sounded from his computer. He glanced at the screen and moved the mouse to close the annoying notification, but the subject of the email made him pause.

Gilded renovation - URGENT

The sender was one of the wealthier citizens of Brockton and had a vested interest in supporting the Empire's cause. He'd met Max Anders at a fundraiser and they'd ended up discussing the sorry state of their beloved city. Once Max whispered the correct words in his ear, on how the Empire could bring order and quell the rising chaos within the city, Kaiser and the Empire had gained a new backer. Nothing to draw prying eyes: a small donation, a tip about undesirable persons encroaching in the neighborhood. A small step towards spreading their control away from the PRT's prying eyes.

Most news from such backers was dropped by personal meeting, but in certain cases when face-to-face was too risky or unfeasible, an email could be sent to a private address, with a code word in the subject field.

Never before did that backer attach the word 'urgent' to the subject.

Max opened the email and felt his eyebrows rise as a picture, captured by a high-quality phone camera, popped on the screen.

"You okay, sir?" Justin asked. Instead of replying verbally, Kaiser turned the screen around and his lips twitched as he beheld his subordinate's expression overtaken by surprise.

"Where was this taken?"

"Captain's Hill, I believe. It appears the newest cape in Brockton Bay is doing some sightseeing."

The image showed who else but Sun Wukong, perched on a tall roof and scanning the horizon with a hand over his eyes. His robes were different, far cleaner than the tattered ones he wore on the news articles and social media feeds.

Justin leaned forward, his brow creasing. "This can't be a coincidence."

"Oh? Explain."

"It makes perfect sense," he said and began listing off the reasons with his fingers. "First he gets chummy with the slants near the docks. Then he takes out Lung, scares off Lee, then shows the rest who's boss. When they're all in line, he sends the gang under his control to get payback from us."

"Except for the fact that barring a couple of encounters, Sun Wukong has stuck to the Asian district and nearby," Kaiser replied. "And from what we've gathered of him so far, he prefers a more personal style of confrontation."

"Doesn't mean he isn't doing it," Crusader retorted, steel seeping into his tone before he dialed it back. He knew his position well; even if he returned from his little vacation with full honors, the others doubted him. "You still didn't say what we should do about him after that video with the Ward got posted."

Kaiser allowed himself to smile at the memory of the video. A Ward - and a black one apparently - with known violent tendencies bullying a hapless student, and from what his sources at the PRT whispered, she was bullied to the point of Triggering. It was as though God himself had gift-wrapped them the perfect propaganda video. Alabaster was ready to contact the Gesellschaft to spread the word, and he'd begun drafting a speech of his own…but he'd barely typed three lines before the entirety of the video registered in his mind. Yes, a black Ward, bullying a white girl…stopped and exposed by a Chinese cape. Or a sinophile. It was hard to tell from his simian face. Regardless, it would spoil the purpose of the rallying cry. He could edit that part out, but it wouldn't take much to find the true story on the internet.

He sent men to find the girl of course, and offer a spot within his ranks, but they've had no success tracking her so far. Unfortunate, but not a pressing matter. No, the serious issue was indeed, what to do about the monkey who brazenly challenged everyone in the Bay with his antics. So far, Max was content to observe and prepare for the inevitable clash between his forces and the newcomer. Even his dear Kayden had reached out, voicing her concern. Not enough to rejoin, but she sounded far more open than their last conversation. Others like Justin followed when the rumors of Purity's return flittered through Medhall, further bolstering their forces. He wished he'd more time to further hone their dulled edges, but alas, it would seem fate would force him to act.

Leaning into his plush chair and steepling his fingers, Kaiser hummed in contemplation as he juggled the facts in his head, and then threw in the balls of theory to see which one would drop.

"While I have doubts as to Wukong's involvement, you are correct that something suspicious is afoot. We lack the full picture, so I believe it's time we investigate the lair of our enemies." His gaze hardened and he sat straighter in his chair. "If they insist on hiding, we might need to draw them out. Prepare accordingly and take one of the lieutenants with you. Once the PRT forces arrive, you'll need backup."

A smile crossed Justin's lips. "I'll get right on it. And the monkey?"

Kaiser tapped his chin and then gave his reply.

"If he shows up, you may test his mettle, but do so with caution. A lesser breed he may be, but one does not take down a cape like Lung and evade the Protectorate and the PRT without a few tricks. Prepare a contingency should the situation go south."

An unfortunate precaution, yet a necessary one.

He sat up straight and lowered his voice to a tone sharper than any steel he could create. Theatrics aside, it helped that he truly meant every word he was about to say.

"One way or another though, we will have answers. We were dealt a cowardly blow and such insults cannot be ignored. If the ABB are indeed trying to make a comeback, it's time we remind them where they belong: either they crawl on the ground to serve us, or sleep in it."

Chapter Text

"Relax, great father~in~law!" said the son~in~law with a laugh. "Since his youth your foolish son~in~law has mastered the rudiments of the martial arts. Within the four seas he has, moreover, met quite a few stalwart warriors. Why fear him? Let me go out now and fight three rounds with him. I promise you that that fellow will bow his head in submission, not daring even to look up!"

When the monster-spirit Nine-Heads found no reply, he shouted once more: "Who is the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven?" Giving his golden fillet a pinch and his iron rod a bounce, Pilgrim replied, "Old Monkey's the person."

The fiend asked, "Where do you live? Where did you come from originally? How did you get to the Sacrifice Kingdom to become the guard of the pagoda for that king? How dare you capture my captains and work further violence by provoking battle on my treasure mountain?"

"You thievish fiend!" scolded Pilgrim. "So, you don't recognize your Grandfather Sun! Come up here and listen to my recital.

[...]

When the son-in-law heard these words, he smiled scornfully and said, "So, you're a monk on your way to fetch scriptures. Don't you have anything more important to do than to meddle in someone's affairs? You're to seek your scriptures from Buddha, and I am the one who steals treasures. What has that to do with you? Why must you come here to fight with me?"

"This thievish fiend;' said Pilgrim, "has very little understanding! Of course, I'm not a recipient of the king's favor, nor do I feed on his water or rice, and thus I'm not obliged to serve him. But you stole not only his treasure and defiled his pagoda, you also brought suffering to the priests of the Golden Light Monastery. They belong, after all, to the same community as we. How could I not exert my strength on their behalf and bring their injustice to light?"

"In that case," said the son-in-law, "you must want to do battle. As the proverb says, 'War is an unkindly act.' When I raise my hands, I fear I'll not spare you. I may take your life all of a sudden, and that may upset your scripture enterprise!"

Journey to the West, chapter 63

Evening, the same day…

"Are you done yet?"

"Asking won't get results faster. What are you, five?"

Crusader bristled at the remark. "You've been staring at that shell casing for hours. Unless it has the goddamn Bible written on it, or whatever the hell the chinks worship, I don't understand what else you're looking for."

Flipping the aforementioned shell casing between his fingers while holding a flashlight in his other hand, Victor sighed dramatically. "So impatient. For your information, it's barely been ten minutes. If we want to deliver the best results to Kaiser, we cannot rush any part of this. These things take time."

Crusader crossed his arms and held back a growl, feeling his fingers tighten over his gauntlets. "Remind me why did I ask you for help?"

He knew the answer, but it didn't make it less insufferable to hear.

"Because you know you and everyone else is hopeless at actual investigations."

When Crusader failed to reply, on account of holding himself back so he wouldn't curse his asshole of a comrade, Victor flashed a smug grin and returned to examining the casing. "I only wish O could come, at least the small talk would've been pleasant."

"Too bad," retorted Crusader. "But Kaiser wants to keep this on the down-low, there's too much uncertainty going around. Sending three capes is pushing it."

Victor ignored his words with a noncommittal shrug. Crusader looked around while he worked, sneering at the posters of Asian musicians hanging on the wall. The rest of the room was dull, with grey walls long stripped of any paint, a table that was one hit away from crumbling, and a kitchenette that hadn't seen a sponge in years.

"What makes you think this safe house is special?" Crusader asked.

"I have it on good word that this one was abandoned only a few days ago. Most of the known ones were ditched when Lung was taken out of commission," Victor replied. "The police have their eyes on the crime scenes and we can't just waltz there, so this is the next best thing."

Placing the butt of the flashlight in his mouth, he withdrew another shell casing from his pocket and held it beside the one he found. After a few seconds, he pocketed them both and removed the flashlight from his mouth. The tactical vest over his bodysuit sagged as he took a few quick breaths. Not part of his usual attire, but these weren't normal circumstances.

Crusader looked at him expectantly, but Victor shook his head. "They're not the same. Wherever the ABB got their new gear, it wasn't here."

"How'd you figure?"

Victor withdrew the longer casing and held it between his fingers. "This here's a 5.56x45mm NATO round, used with M4 rifles, among other carbines. As in, the kind of rifles the Marines have access to. A bit tricky to acquire, though not beyond belief, but it's a few steps beyond the ABB's usual roster of weapons. They stick - or, stuck - to blades, nailed clubs, and handguns. Maybe a couple of Uzis, like the 45 ACP I found here. Tell me, in all the time we've fought them, did they ever use carbines or assault rifles?"

Crusader paused as he processed the question. He'd clashed with the ABB for years, and like every other gang that came to roost in Brockton Bay, they'd settled into patterns when it came to their assaults. While Lung and Oni Lee's presence formed the bulwark of their gang, the group managed to develop a force from its regular members alone. Utterly inferior to the E88's forces, of course, but still. Enough to enforce their rule and just shy of staying the hand of constant incursions. Carbines and other heavy-duty weaponry?

"No," he replied begrudgingly. "If they had that kind of firepower beforehand, we would've known."

Victor nodded. "Meaning either they were spotless in their clean-up of this place, or they're receiving supplies from elsewhere in town." He rubbed his chin and his voice dropped to a murmur. "It would need to be somewhere they can receive supplies and train with them, where we and the law enforcement wouldn't think to look. Maybe out of city bounds? No, there was that robbery yesterday, and it wasn't local…"

Crusader put his hands on his armored hips. "Look at you, playing detective. And since when did you become a gun nut?"

"Since one Detective Lionel Valdez interrogated me as a bystander. A dull man, even for his breed, but he had useful enough skills."

He snorted, then looked to the door behind him. "So, did you spot anything else? Some brand of noodles or rice they don't usually eat?"

"Not even that, I'm afraid." Victor rose from the floor and pocketed the casing and the flashlight. "This dump is useless. We'll have to hit the streets."

With those words, Victor strode past him and left the room. Crusader followed him until they left the building, a squat two-story dump with a broken sign in Chinese or whatever language that used the chink's weird letters. Waiting for them on the curb was their van, stripped of any symbols and indications of the Empire's Medhall front. As Victor slipped into the driver's seat, Crusader climbed into the back and shut the door. Riding shotgun was a little difficult when one was in full plate armor. Inside were a group of seven men, with shaven heads and black coats, which hid the bulges and protrusions of hidden weapons. They turned to him expectantly, but said nothing as he took the empty seat. At his feet, his spear lay ready, all ten feet of it, tipped with sharpened steel. A turn of the engine later and they were off.

A few minutes passed in silence, with only the bumping of the road and the sound of the engine rumbling in Crusader's ears. He shifted in his seat and stared through the tinted windows at the passing houses. Victor's humming trailed through the window behind the front seats, as if he wasn't feeling uneasy enough.

"Do you have to do that?" he asked. Although he didn't see it, Justin was sure Victor was smiling, the ass. He loved to showcase his powers even for the smallest of things, and you wouldn't know if it was natural or not.

He knew that bringing him into this situation was a lesson in masochism, but what the ass said was right: Victor was the best of them at handling subtler affairs. Krieg came a close second, but he was busy with Gesellschaft business. He considered Hookwolf, before the little voice of reason hollered at him for considering it. A cape with his temper, running loose in the chink's district? Fine and welcome, but not now.

Crusader's thoughts slowed as the van did, and when he peered outside and saw the street sign, his frown grew.

"This is the middle of the district. Why'd you stop?"

"First, this is just an alley next to the main street. Second, I reason we have a better chance at catching the scum by searching their actual territory. If we start sniffing around too many hideouts, someone will take notice." Victor peered around and looked Crusader through his helm's visor. "We're going to conduct a more…personal search."

A smile crept on Crusader's lips. Finally, some action. "What do you have in mind?"

"We know that the ABB is scurrying around these parts despite being underground, and the locals hold no love for them." He then addressed the soldiers and raised his voice.

"Gentlemen, this attack on your comrades cannot stand. As loyal men of the Empire, we must find these vermin and enact our retribution. I know that consorting with the foreign invaders is distasteful, but alas, needs must. You will leave one at a time and question everyone you see regarding the ABB's recent appearances. If they refuse, you can impress upon the urgency of the situation, but do not draw overt attention. We are here to gather information only, not to claim turf. Understood?"

They all nodded, sporting eager smirks and thumbing their weapons at the thought of rustling up the Asians. Enthusiasm was good, but Crusader wished that Krieg could spare a couple of his men. A measure of professionalism wouldn't hurt their chances.

"You heard the man," Crusader reiterated. "We need to keep this on the down-low. If shit goes south, get ready to scatter."

The men nodded again and with a dismissive motion from him, they slowly exited the van from the back. Once they left, Crusader turned to Victor. He still didn't like how he essentially took command of the operation from him…but damn if he didn't know how to motivate.

"And what'll we do while they rouse up the chinks?"

Victor's charismatic smile sharpened to a grin. "How aware are you of your duplicates' actions?"

"...I don't know what they do every second they're out, but enough to know if they hit something," he slowly replied.

"And they know everything that you do?" Victor pressed. Crusader waved his hand in response, understanding slowly coming to him.

"I give them orders and they follow them well enough." Victor's grin almost split his face, but Crusader cut him off before he could continue. "I get what you want to pull. And yeah, I can tell them to search the area. If they find the bastards, I'll know."

Victor's eagerness matched his own as he clasped his hands. "Perfect. Then let's get this ball rolling, shall we?"

Crusader exited the van and surveyed the immediate area. The street was right around the corner, lit up with neon signs and streetlamps. Asians were swarming the place, strutting around without a care. He could see some of the men asking vendors questions, and judging from the hostile looks, things weren't running smoothly for them. Not bothering to hold back his sneer, he clenched his fists and inhaled deeply. A twinge ran down his spine and ethereal clones began to swarm from his body like he was a smoke machine, all clad in wispy versions of his armor. If one was to look through their visors, they'd see two pale eyes staring at them, but no traces of skin or hair. He'd tested them out many times without his armor, and they always felt off-putting, like translucent window mannequins.

As each clone left, he issued a single command in his head, which was sent to the clones instantly.

'Find the masked bastards who wrong us. They have heavy guns and military gear. If you can drag one to us, then do so.'

The clones each nodded and left the alley, either phasing through the walls or flying to the rooftops. When the tenth clone left his body, he re-entered the van and smacked the backseat.

"They're moving. Are we gonna stay here?"

"Depends. What's their range?"

"Hm, a few good blocks. They can't cover the whole district, but they'll know if they're getting out of range."

"Alright then," Victor replied and started the vehicle. They slowly drove out of the alley and back onto the main street. The sun had already set, and the lamps and signs blared in full neon force. Victor began to drive around in circles, barely stepping on the gas. Crusader closed his eyes and focused on the clones. Faint images flashed through his head, of basements, shop pantries, kitchens and attics. One clone even went underground to the sewers, unless dark and damp tunnels were some messed-up new fetish the ABB conjured up for their brothels. Minutes passed, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation. Not even two months ago, a man couldn't walk in the Docks without bumping into one of Lung's gooks or japs. Not that he'd ever set foot in this part of town without a good reason. Some of the regular soldiers and underlings liked to do so if only to remind the aliens where they stood. It always brought a cheer to the men whenever they caught wind of the slants getting put in their place. Sure, the men might've gotten a stint in jail or a few broken bones, but it was worth it to ensure the cockroaches stopped strutting around like they owned the city.

So where the fuck are they?

Whenever the ABB caught wind of the Empire marching in, there'd be threats, taunts, insults, and then the punches. The gooks couldn't stand to be reminded of their true place in the world. So why weren't they showing up? Kaiser's intel said they were still lurking nearby, too cowardly to peek their heads out except for kid-level crime…and training like marines to shoot Empire men.

His lips twitched upward as a panicked chink flashed through his mind. That was an idea; scaring them to death with ghosts. He'd have to bring it up with Kaiser sometime…maybe when things cooled down.

A commotion from outside briefly fizzled his concentration. One voice he recognized as a youngblood who came along and the other was some old man, barking like a dog. Crusader couldn't make out the words, but it was clear the soldier was experiencing the same setback. He'd half a mind to run outside and beat the old man senseless for daring to yell at his betters, but he restrained himself. When they caught the sons of bitches who drew blood, he'd dish out all the disrespect to them, nothing held back.

"Any luck?"

"If I know, I'll tell you. Shut up if you please."

"Temper, temper," Victor tutted. "I thought you would show more respect, considering how you returned from your little break with nothing to show for it."

"Kaiser welcomed me with open arms," he replied tightly. "And I'm not gonna waste any time showing my gratitude."

"Haste makes waste, Justin. Try and remember that before you end up in a ditch."

Victor flashed another insufferable grin and returned to driving. Crusader grumbled but nonetheless resumed his task. He'd make Victor and rest eat their words, he'd show 'em.

More time passed, and he felt an itch growing on his scalp, in tandem with his growing frustration. What would they do if they came up empty-handed? Kaiser wouldn't be pleased, and there's no telling when the chinks would strike again. And he'd be damned if more men died on his watch.

The relative silence was broken when suddenly, a burst of static filled the air, accompanied by a scratchy voice. "Boss, we got one! Corner of Rosenhurst and Samuel!"

"We're coming!" Victor yelled into the receiver and immediately turned the van around. "Crusader, keep those clones on standby and have them surround the street. If the PRT comes, we'll have to interrogate him somewhere private, so we'll need a quick getaway."

"Got it."

The van soon stopped and Crusader stormed out the back with his spear in hand. Victor joined him and they stood before two of their men, holding a bandana-wearing chink by the arms. Even in hiding, they still held onto their colors. Victor forced the restrained one's chin up, revealing a slant-eyed teen with a bruised lip.

"Well, look what we have here, boys. The city's gone to the dogs if they let rats like this one scurry around and ruin honest people's day."

The men cackled as the teen cowered before Victor's piercing gaze.

"But that's the problem with his sort," he continued, scanning the ABB thug up and down with a mild interest. "No matter how much you stomp, they always seem to pop their ugly little heads out of the mud they call home. And that can lead to…dangerous consequences."

Crusader smirked as the gook looked one second away from pissing himself.

"You know, when your illustrious leader was kicked off the face of the earth, I had hope that you possessed a modicum of intelligence and buried yourself in whatever tunnels you carved up over the years. It would've saved us so much effort, and saved you a lesson in manners." Victor shook his head with rueful mockery. "But no, instead you committed a grave sin, by spilling the pure blood of our brothers with your filthy hands."

The gook's brow furrowed for a second, as though he didn't understand the words spoken. Didn't he know English? Why even live in America?

"Since we're on a tight schedule, I will give you one chance to talk. Otherwise, we'll move this conversation somewhere more… accommodating. SWAT interrogation techniques are better suited for closed doors."

Victor pulled out a switchblade and pressed it to the teen's neck. His eyes shot open (as much as they could) and he glanced at Crusader with a silent plea. He merely tapped the butt of his spear on the pavement.

"Now, the men who killed our soldiers. They wore masks similar to your Oni Lee. Where are they? Where did they get new weapons? Your comrades must be braying about it to high heaven."

Cries and mutterings rose from around them from the few bystanders who chose to watch. A couple even tried to get close, but Crusader saw his clones brandish their phantom spears in warning and they backed off. The teen shivered at the cool touch of the blade on his neck, and the grins of the men holding him grew wider with every second. Victor pressed the knife deeper, just enough to draw a drop, and when the gook saw his blood tainting the knife, he began to stammer.

"I…I don't know…we didn't do it. We heard about the attacks but we didn't know…"

Victor stared deep into his eyes, his muscles bulging with every broken word. Othala always said his mask made him look like a hawk, and in that moment, Crusader found himself agreeing—a hawk who'd caught his prey and was deciding if it was worth eating.

"You know," he drawled. "I wish to revise my earlier words. You could be so low on the totem pole that your bosses, whoever's in charge now, didn't tell you zilch. That's an option…but I suspect you're hiding something from me. And I do hate it when people try and hide information."

He withdrew his knife and gestured with his head to the van. "Bring him in. Perhaps a one-on-one will loosen his tongue."

The Empire soldiers grinned and forced the boy into the van's back as he yelled and cried out in the gibberish that was his language.

"You think he really knows something?" Crusader asked.

"Maybe not about the men, but he's definitely hiding a secret, that much I could tell. Not a personal thing, but one related to the ABB. Either way, it'll give us a lead and keep Kaiser happy." He glanced around them, and Crusader spotted another soldier looming over a terrified Asian couple. A few cars drove by, none of them BBPD, and chose wisely by minding their own business. "Let the men keep prying for a little while. I'll tell them to rendezvous near the market."

"Good call."

Picking up his spear, Crusader approached the van with Victor at his side. He was barely three feet away from the door -

Gone.

Every joint in his body froze as he felt a cord snap in his mind.

"What's wrong?"

He bit back a curse. "One of my clones got popped. West of here, around-"

Gone.

"Shit, another one. Brace yourself, we've got company." Crusader readied his spear while Victor pulled out an assault rifle from the shotgun seat.

"Your clones can be popped?" he asked, loading a magazine from his vest, then pulling back the charging handle.

"I don't know. I've tested them, but I haven't found anything that could actually pop them." And that was worrying as hell. They could go through inorganic matter and nothing organic he'd tested - he asked Hookwolf for a favor - could harm them. So what the hell could -

Gone.

A third one? "Okay, something is seriously wrong here-"

Before he could react, a shriek pierced the air.

"Hey, what d'you think you're doi - AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGH!"

Something flew toward them, sailing through the air and rolling to their feet.

It was one of their soldiers and he looked like a meat tenderizer played whack-a-mole on his face, then finished with a round of polka. He twitched and groaned while Victor glanced at him, eyes narrowing in rapid thought.

"I say, for all his bravado, he was much more fragile than I expected."

Crusader swung his spear in the direction of the raspy voice, but he felt it freeze as something grasped the tip and held it in place.

A very furry something, clad in black robes.

"Now that's plain rude!" replied the monkey, showing off his teeth. "I am aware ruffians tend to stab first and ask later, but is it too much to ask for some basic courtesy?"

Victor stared in shock while Crusader tried to pull back his spear, but the monkey held it between his fingers and tilted his head.

"Hm, well-made for a ruffian's weapon, by mortal standards. A shame it is in the hands of reprobates as yourselves."

With a flick of his wrist, Wukong released the spear and sent Crusader stumbling. He righted himself up as the monkey looked at him with bemusement.

"So, you're the cape that's been causing all the ruckus these past few weeks," said Victor. The grip on his rifle tightened despite his curious tone. "I admit, I thought social media was exaggerating a tad when showing you off, but looking at you now? What an unfortunate power you've landed."

Crusader found himself agreeing; it was one thing to see him on a screen and another in real life. The hair, the face, the body structure…he was a literal monkey; he even had a tail swishing behind him! Crusader knew the chinks were monkeys, but this was bordering on a joke!

"And who might you be? Friends of this rude fellow at your feet?" he asked, pointing at the down gangster.

"I'm Crusader and he's Victor: loyal lieutenants of the Empire Eighty-Eight."

"And I am Sun Wukong, Handsome Monkey King of Flower-Fruit Mountain and Lord of the Water-Curtain Cave," he replied with a dramatic bow. Crusader couldn't help but blink. What was up with those titles? Was he into roleplaying games like those annoyances Uber and Leet? God, he already felt the need for an aspirin.

Wukong rubbed his chin as he examined them, while the two capes braced themselves. Kooky or not, you don't let your guard down around a cape.

"Empire Eighty-Eight…now where have I heard that before?" he muttered, then snapped his fingers. "Ah yes, the bald ones! This Old Sun was wondering when I might encounter their sorcerers. The bandits I knocked out in days past were quite noisy about your presence. Shame their bluster didn't match their prowess."

Right, he scared off a whole squad of Hookwolf's men. Crusader bent his knees and raised his spear while Victor aimed his rifle to blow out the monkey's heart.

Despite the weapons pointed right at his chest and ready to hear him into kibble kebab, Wukong didn't seem bothered. In fact, he crossed his arms and stared them down, sporting a grin that irritated him more than Victor's, and that was saying a lot. Then again, he took down Lung. A guy like that wouldn't go down easily.

"Now that pleasantries are over and done with, may this Old Sun inquire why your merry band of ne'er-do-wells decided to bother these poor folk?"

Victor was the one who replied in a tentative tone. "The ABB attacked and killed some of our men. We demand retribution."

"Ah, revenge! A classic and honorable notion, but for bandits, 'tis necessary if they wish to maintain a reputation. How else would the common folk fear them?" He shook his head and sighed with regret so heavy and mocking Crusader felt it press against his armor. "Pointless in the long run, but an amusing show while it lasts."

This shitstain…

"Now, I could not care less as to the petty disputes between bandit gangs, but I find it troublesome when you bleed and bruise innocents for the sake of whatever spite is brewing between you." He stepped forward and Crusader forced down the urge to jump backward. Nothing had changed in the monkey's expression, save the tiniest narrowing of the eyes. Why did he feel the urge to bolt?

"Besides, this Old Sun has been waiting for some proper exercise." He reached into his ear, and in a flash of gold, a long wooden staff appeared in his hand, capped with golden dragon carvings.

"Back off, monkey," Crusader barked, ready to strike in a heartbeat. "The chinks have it coming. One way or another, we'll get our due, so save yourself the trouble and walk away."

Wukong reared his head and laughed. It was more of a cackle, one that rang through the streets. From the corner of his visor, he saw Victor flinch.

"Oh, to gaze into the pools of your addled mind and behold the delusions that swim its murky waters!" He leaned on his staff and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "If you think that any recompense is owed to you by these people, then this Old Sun fears your helmet clouds more than your vision. Does your leader, whoever he is, invite all of his followers into his fool's paradise?"

… This monkey was dead. Kaiser said to test him, but he was gonna fight him anyway. Nobody called him or Kaiser insane.

Without another word, Crusader leapt into action. He thrust his spear forward with blinding speed, but Wukong bobbed back and he missed by a hair. Swinging sideways, steel missed fur once again. The Empire cape growled as he advanced, his spear a masterwork of stabs, thrusts and slashes. He never slacked off during his break and was confident he could go toe-to-toe with Armsmaster.

But the monkey just kept weaving and dodging, occasionally tapping the speartip with his staff. His robes swayed with his fluid motions, with sleeves fluttering in the wind, yet Crusader couldn't even take advantage of the loose cloth; when he tried, the sleeve blurred and only air was pierced, while the monkey looked on with amusement.

He swiped this time to the left, and when the monkey hopped back to dodge, Victor saw the cue and opened fire. Thunder echoed around them as shell casing flew out of the HK's ejection port. It was heavy ordinance for a cape fight, but if this guy could take a beating from Lung, then restraint was low on the priority list.

A grin crept on Crusader's face as the monkey grimaced with each strafe and the moment Victor stopped, he lunged right at that furry head…

…only to halt with such force he almost relinquished his grip.

Again with fucking fingers!

He glanced downward, hoping that Victor at least drew blood, but there was nothing! Not even the clothes were scratched! And was that rock covering Wukong's stomach?

"Now that was uncalled for. The fair seamstress toiled long and hard on these raiments! This Old Sun must further educate you in proper respect!"

Gravity suddenly took hold when Crusader almost fell back-first to the floor. He righted himself up amidst another hail of gunfire and was met with the sight of Wukong jumping left and right, zigzagging as Victor tried to riddle him like Swiss cheese. A click betrayed the rifle's lack of bullets and Wukong dashed toward him as the mag was ejected. Victor dropped the gun and ducked right as Wukong swiped at him with his staff. Pulling out a machete from his thigh holster, Victor swiped upward and the monkey dodged. The same pattern repeated, this time with Victor and the machete as Wukong's partners. Unlike Crusader's bout, his movements were sharper, lacking the flowing grace from before. When he tapped the machete with his finger, an act that drew no blood despite its tinkertech origins, Crusader had enough.

This shitty monkey was toying with them. First, he practically spits on their faces, insults him and the Empire then acts like he's taking a walk in the park. Crusader uttered a string of swear words and clenched his spear. He wouldn't go back to Kaiser empty-handed, not after rejoining.

He heard the chinks weren't afraid to die. Time to see if the monkey was like the rest of his filthy race.

Crusader roared as a clone shrouded his body and carried him upward. Wukong blinked in surprise as the cape came down swinging right as another clone flew downward, holding a phantom spear. The clang of steel ran through his arms as the monkey poised his staff to intercept both blows. Clever, but not enough.

More clones flew out from Crusader's body and they began swarming Wukong, descending upon him in an ethereal cluster of spears and armored fists. Taking advantage of their distraction, Crusader fell back to Victor's position, who'd sheathed his machete and retrieved his rifle.

"Any luck swiping something from him with your powers?" he asked.

Victor bared his teeth as he loaded another mag. "I've been trying since the start of this fight, but either this monkey's completely scatterbrained or he's a Thinker. One moment I was getting words in old Chinese and the next I was learning about different kinds of peaches. When I tried attacking him, I couldn't even get a scrap." He aimed his rifle at the frenzy of ghosts, which Wukong was twisting through with nimbleness. "Even now, he's moving way too fast to get a bead on."

"Shit. We gotta think of something. Do you think we can make it to the van?"

"If you create more clones, then maybe. We can still make it to a safehouse with the gook. The van will have to go, but I have a C4 charge ready for action. No evidence and a big distraction for the BBPD. Kaiser won't care for the damages when we gift-wrap him the chink."

Right, the cops. And the PRT will be hot on their tail. Crusader opened his mouth to agree when Victor spoke again, this time with audible confusion.

"Crusader…weapons can't hit your clones, right?" He lifted a finger from the gun and pointed forward. "Then could you explain that?"

What was 'that'?

That was Wukong spinning his staff around and blowing away his clones like ragdolls. Two more tried to jump him from the back, but he then jumped high and spun-kicked the clones into the asphalt. It might've been his imagination, but for a moment, Crusader thought he saw the monkey turn see-through. Seconds later, they were adrift in the winter chill.

…oh shit. He took out the clones from earlier?

Almost on reflex, another round of clones emerged from Crusader until an entire ring of them surrounded the monkey, spears at the ready. Even with the presence of Crusader's phantom army, Victor's smugness was completely gone by now, with his finger back on the trigger. Crusader felt similarly, with his coiled muscles ready to attack or retreat in any direction.

Yet the monkey remained utterly relaxed, if a bit fascinated. Being stared down by an army of phantom warriors was not enough to deter him, it seemed. No, instead, he circled an arm around his staff…and applauded.

"Bravo, bravo, such spectacular abilities you possess. Misused like your weapons, but rather creative." He glanced at both Crusader and Victor with a knowing smile. "I take it the armored one is the body while you are the mind? A good balance of yin and yang, yet your ratios are uneven."

Crusader had no clue what fortune cookie nonsense the monkey just spewed, but it was no compliment.

"You talk big for a slant," Crusader called out. "I don't know if all that hair is blinding you, but you're outnumbered. I don't know how you hit my clones, but that doesn't matter with these numbers."

Wukong guffawed again, clutching his belly. "Oh, the river of fantasy flows ever onward! I thought the màopáihuò bore the crown of comedy in this town, but it seems the title hops between heads like a rabbit!" He finished his laughing and tilted his head, still sporting that fucking grin. "But I'll humor you and take your word that alone, I cannot vanquish your little ghost army. Let's equalize the field then, shall we?"

Equalize the field?

What was he on about?

Before the Empire capes could reply, Wukong plucked a fistful of hairs from his shoulders and held them aloof in his open palm. He inhaled deeply and blew, sending them flying in an unfelt wind.

"Change!"

The scattered hairs flashed gold and smoke filled the street, lingering for scant seconds before dissipating, and Crusader felt his jaw drop so hard his helmet rattled.

Because where there was one monkey before, now there were ten. Each was wearing the same robes and holding the same staff. Unlike his clones though, the monkeys appeared perfectly solid, utterly indistinguishable from their creator.

A quick glance at Victor revealed rapidly paling skin and a litany of curses held back by a bitten lip. If Crusader saw himself in a mirror right now, he was sure his expression would shame that famous painting.

Because what. In. The. Actual. Fucking. Hell!?

"Much better, don't you think?" Wukong tapped his staff on the ground and swept it in an arc. The clones smiled in unison, sporting identical fanged, lunatic grins. When he spoke, excitement dripped from his words. Like a cat who'd found a whole den of mice.

"Now, as the vagrants once uttered on the rocky slopes of Heishan…have at 'em, boys!"

Chapter Text

YES, IT IS I!

You know the drill. Read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo. Constructive criticism is welcome!

Huge thanks to TrajectoryAgreement and my other beta readers for going over this chapter!

Each displaying his divine powers, the Third Prince and Wukong battled for thirty rounds. The six weapons of that prince changed into a thousand and ten thousand pieces; the golden-hooped rod of Sun Wukong into ten thousand and a thousand. They clashed like raindrops and meteors in the air, but victory or defeat was not yet determined. Wukong, however, proved to be the one swifter of eye and hand. Right in the midst of the confusion, he plucked a piece of hair and shouted, "Change!" It changed into a copy of him, also wielding a rod in its hands and deceiving Nezha. His real person leaped behind Nezha and struck his left shoulder with the rod. Nezha, still performing his magic, heard the rod whizzing through the air and tried desperately to dodge it. Unable to move quickly enough, he took the blow and fled in pain. Breaking off his magic and gathering up his six weapons, he returned to his camp in defeat.

-Journey to the West, chapter 4

Taylor Hebert had seen a great deal in her short life. Happy moments with her parents and her friend were now stained black by the physical and metaphorical deaths of both. Living in the cape capital of the USA had tempered her reactions to extreme moments, be they comic, tragic, or just plain bizarre when explained out of context. And then she discovered her bully was a hero-in-training, had powers, and was offered a chance to become a real hero by a monkey.

Yes, it was completely baffling when she thought about it…but like every other curveball life had thrown at her, she could power through it.

But as she peeked her hooded head out from behind a street corner, the last coherent thought passing through her mind before it bluescreened was that she might've spoken too soon.

Because there was no rational way to explain the spectacle unfolding before her.

With trembling fingers, she rubbed some dust off her glasses and pulled back strands of messy hair…yup, a small army of monkeys was fighting off an army of knights.

She knew her teacher was weird. Be it his old-timey way of speaking, the strange comments he threw about whatever was around him, and the fact that he was a…well, a talking monkey. Probably a Case-53 like Trainwreck from the news. It wasn't what she expected when he offered to teach her - though to be honest, she had no idea what to expect.

Yet this…

Where the fuck did  that  come from!?

This was a completely different level of weirdness.

It was a localized typhoon of phantom and fur on the street. Crusader's clones swarmed inward and tried to pierce, slash, and dismember anything that wasn't them. Wordless howling echoed through the street in an eerie battle cry. Victor fired into the pandemonium from the side, causing her to wince at the staccato of gunfire. She could barely discern anything from the mess, not knowing whether or not any of the bullets struck true. More than once did a clone ram their spear into a furry body…

…only for two things to happen: either the monkey clone pivoted and twisted at the very last second, or the phantom weapon shattered against their skin.

Whatever the outcome, the result was the same: the clone (or was it Wukong himself?) would whack the clone over the head and, causing it to vanish without a trace, only for another to take its place.

Which made absolutely no sense. Taylor thought her tongue would roll into her throat from how low her jaw dropped.

'How can ghost weapons even break? How can ghosts break, period?'

Admittedly, Taylor didn't know much about Empire capes beyond Kaiser. The news reports of the Protectorate or the Wards' triumphs and losses - whenever their PR people attempted to save face - always included the villains they fought against. If she had any recollection of Crusader, it wasn't screaming at her with familiarity. Victor rang a bell, and she'd seen photos of him in the paper, but there was nothing about his powers. From what she could remember from her time on PHO, there was a lot of speculation about it.

'...well, whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be helping.'

Indeed, even as he reloaded and kept on firing, nothing changed. Monkeys bashed and smacked phantoms around, howling and chanting as though they were in the jungle. The beating of their staves reminded her of tribal songs from the radio, but these were disharmonious and savage. But even amidst the hullabaloo, Taylor swallowed at their movements. Sharp, deadly, and remorseless. If Crusader's phantoms were real people, she didn't doubt the body count would've been astronomical.

When he realized nothing was working, Victor started yelling at the real Crusader, who stood beside him with an iron grip on his spear, even as clones flew out of his body.

"Are you even trying!?"

"Screw you! I'm making them as fast as I can! I don't know which one is real!"

"Why aren't they turning him into cheese?"

"How should I know? This is next-level cape bullshit! Just nail him in the head and get this shitshow over with!"

"Which one, for fuck's -" Victor roared and unleashed another hail of ammo. Against the streetlamps, his frown almost seemed demonic, with bared teeth and his blonde hair matting a sweaty brow. As Taylor directed her gaze to the clone brawl, a crazy thought wormed its way into her consciousness:

She could help.

Sneak up close while they aren't looking, then use her wings to smack them. They were preoccupied, so she had a chance.

First, she needed to find handcuffs, something to bind them with until the authorities arrived…and they were away from the scene. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything around that could work as a pair of handcuffs. Maybe one of the shops nearby had zip-ties.

What am I thinking? Every store within a block's radius is locked tight. No one is going to stick their head out when this is happening. Did someone call the police - who am I kidding, every cop and hero out on patrol is going to see this!

She bit her thumb as her mind raced through various scenarios, thinking of any way she could help. Any bystanders were long gone, so that took care of the civilian angle. A good hit from her wings could take out Victor, but then she'd have to deal with Crusader, and she was pretty sure that she couldn't damage any clones he would summon. But what else -

A howl broke through her thoughts as a monkey threw a Crusader phantom into the air and swatted it like a baseball, sending it careening above their heads and far away down the street, until it disappeared from view.

… On second thought, maybe I should just stay here. Tucked away behind this nice, solid, brick wall that's not in the line of fire between two rampant Nazi capes, a legion of ghosts and a horde of angry monkeys.

She forced down her welling irritation at standing by and spectating, but…there was little she could do right now, untrained as she was. Wuking might hit her by accident.

Taylor focused back on the fight, where the monkeys kept beating off every spectral knight. She bit her lip as she failed to follow the mayhem, trying to pinpoint which of the clones was the real Wukong. Each clone spun and swung their staves like miniature twisters, hopping around and dispelling Crusader's clones with movements too fast for her to track.

Victor finally roared, his voice hoarse and slicked with sweat as he loaded and fired off another magazine -

And then, silence.

It was a blip, missable in the haze of screaming and limbs, but a monkey's head swung to the side, as though slapped hard. Taylor felt her breath hitch, still uncertain of who was who. Did the Nazi finally shoot the real one?

Wukong blinked and rubbed his cheek in befuddlement, tracing his unblemished cheek and dragging a clawed hand through his mane. As one, the monkey troupe turned to Victor with wide eyes, holding back the struggling phantoms with ease. The cape in question stood with a finger on the trigger, eyes darting to and fro from behind his mask.

"Rude."

Gold flashed -

And a brown flash shot out of the mess of limbs and right at Victor. Taylor barely saw him gape before the blur collided with his torso and pushed him out of sight. Barely an instant later, the brown mass zoomed back into the pile. Without even offering a second of mercy, the monkey army returned to massacring the ghosts.

Oh right, his staff could do that.

As the poor girl tried to recover her fraying rationality, one monkey somersaulted high into the air and landed right before Crusader. The armored cape reacted fast, his spear soaring toward the monkey's abdomen. Wukong tilted his staff, letting the sharpened tip clash against the wood with a resounding clang.

Isn't that staff made out of wood?

With a great sweep, Wukong swung at Crusader, fully intent on scoring a home run as he did with Victor. Then, Crusader flew backward as a shimmer enveloped him, pointing his spear at the asphalt. Three clones flew from his body and Wukong batted them away, shaking his head ruefully.

"Is that all? The novelty is losing its luster fast. And your constructs are shoddy! I've seen scarecrows endure rougher punishment than these wisps!" As if to prove his point, he rammed his staff through a clone, causing it to shriek in silence before fading. "You will naturally be punished, of course, but this Old Sun can show a token of mercy if you stand down."

Two phantoms broke away from the chaos behind the capes, rushing silently at the monkey. Taylor didn't even gasp as their phantom spears drew closer, closer -

Right at the neck.

Joined by a third.

A horrible vision passed before her. One of blood, gagging and triumphant Nazis.

The spears were firmly stuck in the monkey's neck, and at any moment they would jut out and splatter blood all over the pavement -

Wait. What was going on?

Crusader snarled; a near bestial growl that sounded like one of Hookwolf's rampages on the news, and pushed the spear further into the monkey's furry neck. His clones worked in tandem, jabbing and skewering every inch of their opponent's crouched form…

…but nothing gave.

The knife bent, leaving unmarred skin.

Oh.

An incredulous giggle threatened to escape her lips. This was too much.

"Why…" Crusader growled and swung his spear at Wukong's head, sending slash after slash while the clones kept on trying to skewer him. Wukong's staff, held loosely in one clawed hand, didn't so much as budge in response to the onslaught. "Why don't you fucking die!?"

He cocked his spear back, intent on ending the cape once and for all -

"Adorable."

The staff glowed, flew upward and -

Even she crossed her legs. Taylor would have paid a lottery's worth to see Crusader's expression right now, because no human being could ever make such a sound of absolute defeat.

The staff vanished and Wukong spin-jumped, the wind swirling around him and blowing the phantoms away like stray leaves. With one hand, he grabbed Crusader's helm…

…and slammed his forehead with the force of a battering ram.

Holy shit.

In the recesses of her mind, Taylor imagined a gong, its ringing shattering whatever trace of composure she had left.

Crusader swayed on his feet, his spear threatening to fall out of his hand at any second, while Wukong dusted himself off. When his hand reached his neck, he paused and tilted his head at Crusader, looking at his armor up and down.

"With all the metal you clad yourself in, I expected you to endure more punishment than this. Alas, even the sturdiest shield fails in the hands of feeble men with feebler wills." He sniffed at the cape. "By the setting sun, your lot all cast the same shadow: one of cowardice and savagery, masked by pretty clothes and false bravado. A troupe's display, fractured the instant other folk see you for what you are and stand up to your chest-thumping." He waved his hand and gestured to the street, now almost devoid of people. From her position, Taylor spotted several people huddled behind corners, not daring to raise their heads lest they be dragged into this whole mess.

Crusader kept wobbling in place and leaning on his spear, even as he tried to raise his head. Judging from how he shifted his legs, it wasn't going too well.

Wukong (and Taylor had a sinking suspicion he was the real deal and not a clone) glanced behind him. Crusader's phantoms were long gone now, the last of them being…driven into the ground by a monkey jumping up and down on it.

She didn't laugh. No matter how much her lips and stomach were threatening to burst.

"I've witnessed scarecrows with better durability. Though you do earn merit for producing them so quickly. That is the sole acknowledgment this Old Sun shall grant you; treasure it, for I doubt you shall receive another." He briefly looked above Crusader's helmet with a raised eyebrow before returning his gaze to the Nazi. "You seem tired. Children should take naps."

With a fluid motion, he kicked Crusader's legs from under him and slammed his head into the road. Taylor winced at the sight of the impact and a tiny part of her grew concerned…but then she heard Crusader's groan before his body went fully slack.

…

…

…

It took every ounce of strength in Taylor's grip on the wall not to let go. The image was practically seared into her brain from the sheer incredulity of it: Wukong standing above Crusader's fallen form, and an army of his clones cheered and hollered at the back, breaking into frenzied dance and somersaulting up and down. The monkey turned and bowed thrice to his personal cheering squad - because what else would you call it - then snapped his fingers. A golden haze enveloped each of the clones, and they vanished into nothingness, leaving neither hair nor cloth to show they were ever present. Returning his gaze to Crusader, he gently rapped on his helmet with his staff. The faintest of groans returned in response, and Taylor even spotted a finger twitching.

Ducking back into the alley, Taylor clamped a hand over her mouth and held back…whatever was threatening to spew. Laughter, a cry of disbelief, or a general WTF that would've woken up the neighborhood. Possibly a combination of all three. She'd seen cape fights before, both on TV and the internet, occasionally glimpsing them when they broke out on the street. But this was completely different; the sheer ease and theatricality Wukong displayed would do proud any Shakespearean performance.

Screw one-liners, he spat out entire soliloquies!

More than anything though, were the questions about his powers that burst like a geyser in her mind. And one rose above them all:

What was his power?

And how does being a monkey fit into it?

"Did you enjoy the performance, disciple?"

Taylor yelped and sharply turned around, meeting Wukong's twinkling red eyes and amused grin. She peeked at the street again, and sure enough, he was no longer there. All that remained was the twitching Crusader.

"How did you-?"

Wukong chuckled and twirled his staff. "Patience, o disciple. I see the curiosity threatening to gush out of you, but let us take this conversation somewhere private, shall we? I'd rather avoid confrontation with the local authorities; I have no time to deal with that sort of nonsense today."

Sure enough, the blaring of police sirens rang out from behind them and drew ever closer.

"R-right. Yeah, I don't think sticking around is a great idea."

Tapping the staff against the ground, Wukong didn't react to the flash of gold as it shrank in his hand. He tucked it into his ear - okay, now she had even more questions - and held out a hand. Taylor grabbed the offered palm and was pulled against his chest, causing her to squeak. He leapt above the rooftops and began bounding away.

A few minutes later, he stopped, and Taylor glimpsed the knick-knack shop below and across. The sun had fully set by now and the moon was shining its luminous rays upon the sleepy street.

"Much better now, yes? Let us take this inside and discuss your imminent questions over tea."

Again, Taylor was silenced when Wukong, still carrying her, jumped off the roof and landed right in front of the store. They entered and Peizhi sat behind his counter, staring at his phone.

"A fine evening to you, Peizhi-xiansheng! How was the remainder of your day?"

The shopkeeper's head shot up and his eyes darted to them. Once he made eye contact with her, he slouched with visible relief.

"Oh…Wukong. I'm-I'm fine, thanks. You were gone for a while." He shifted his attention to her. "What did he do to you?"

The way he phrased it made it sound like he planned to torture her with hot iron nails. Granted, her body felt like that when they finished the round of training…but nothing.

"We tested my powers for a bit while I did a bunch of exercises." She said and rubbed her shoulder after Wukong put her down. "It hurts like hell, but I'm fine."

The worry, however brief, on Peizhi's face felt a bit jarring to Taylor, even after more than a week of staying with him. He was a complete stranger to her, and Wukong basically foisted her upon his house, but he never displayed anything other than a detached concern. He rarely approached her directly, mostly to ask what she wanted to eat or if she was comfortable, but it didn't feel forced.

Taylor wasn't sure how to approach him herself, or if she even should. Even now, he seemed skittish around her…or maybe it was just Wukong's presence.

"Where exactly did you go?"

"The Trainyard," she replied. Peizhi blinked, his mouth dropping for a moment before he forced it shut.

"That…makes sense. Plenty of room and things to hit, right?"

"A strange place to dump metal boxes, but they served an adequate purpose." He sniffed and shook his head. "The smell was unfortunate, though. Rust makes for an unattractive perfume."

Peizhi nodded, then bit his lip. "You didn't…meet anyone there, right?"

"Hah! Ease your mind, my friend! Some vagabond lingered in the far edges of the yard," Peizhi might as well have turned into stone with those words. "But they dared not approach. Too drunk in their own misery and swill, that they were."

The shopkeeper's sigh almost made him slump on the counter. "Right…, makes sense, Junjie's told me plenty about the druggies who hang around there…"

"I shall take note to dissuade them gently. Do you have any of that fabulous chrysanthemum tea left?"

"Um…yeah. In the counter above the sink to the left." He pushed himself up and opened the counter door. "I'll boil a pot-"

"No need to trouble yourself, Peizhi-xiansheng!" Wukong interjected. "It's been a while since this Old Sun brewed a proper pot myself. I wish to do so now and provide an offering to this household as you have graciously done to me."

Peizhi moved to protest, then contemplated something in his mind that Taylor couldn't quite make out…before slowly nodding, albeit with extreme reluctance.

"Just be careful with the teapot, please?"

"I shall treat it with the care reserved for the finest of heavenly silks," Wukong said, smacking a fist against his robe. He then dashed upstairs, leaving Taylor and Peizhi alone.

For a short while, none of them moved. Peizhi's gaze flickered to the girl, words on his tongue, but he swallowed them, while Taylor averted her gaze and looked at the various knick-knacks on the shelves. Finally, when faint whistling came from the floor above, Peizhi broke the silence.

"Are you…really okay?" he asked. "I mean. Not just with him, but with everything that's happened…" he trailed off.

Taylor pursed her lips and looked at her shoes. "I'm…still processing it, I guess. All that training kind of pushed it aside, but…it's kinda fucked up. The PRT's after me, I haven't been home in a week-" Didn't even talk to Dad. "All because a Ward decided to use me as a chew toy."

Emma pointed the way. She had to; otherwise, how else would Hess notice?

She forced down the rushing tingle in her back. No, she didn't need to tear another hoodie.

"Wukong's training helps keep my mind off it, but I can't forget it."

Peizhi crossed his arms and leaned slightly forward. "I'm not gonna say I understand what you're going through because I don't. Yeah, what you went through is…he, shitty is an understatement. No offense." He shrugged and looked at the stairs. "Could be you're handling it better than I would've. Or you're flipping out hysterically and I just can't see it."

His gaze then returned to her, and despite his uncertainty, the corners of his lips twitched.

"But…you're here now. You have powers, and Wukong tells me you really want to be a hero, so he'll help you. Not saying it invalidates everything, but that has to count for something, right?"

… This time, it was Taylor who couldn't help the faint smile.

It didn't erase what happened, far from it. She didn't know if she was ever going to get justice for what happened…but right now? This wasn't so bad.

"Um, I have a question, if you don't mind?" she asked.

"Ask away."

Taylor paused to formulate the question. One of several, really, but this one didn't feel polite to ask Wukong directly.

"Where is he from? The way he talks about some things makes me feel like he's never seen a city before."

Peizhi chuckled with exasperation. "You don't know the half of it. When he first asked me about it, I thought he had amnesia or something similar. Most of those Case-53's have that, I think." He then lightly grimaced. "But…it doesn't feel like that. And his Mandarin is perfect, way better than some of the old-timers here. That's not a skill you can get online or with a tutor."

"So he's really from China?"

"I have no clue, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was." He rubbed his head. "He always talks about Flower-Fruit Mountain. Maybe he's from one of the villages near it…but Jinshanling isn't that rural. Maybe it's somewhere deep in the country where the locals call one of the nearby mountains by the same name. I've heard stories that a few of those villages barely stepped out of the 20th century, and the CUI's regime isn't exactly forward-thinking; that would explain why he asked about nachos, of all things. All I know is that one morning, he showed up in my kitchen, robes and all, eating my food. I…didn't ask him much about his home."

The geography escaped her for the time being, but the gist was understood. That would explain his fascination with nachos. Taylor didn't know if an American snack like that got past the CUI. But why didn't he know about trains, of all things? She imagined they'd have that, at least!

A humming snapped Peizhi's attention away and he opened his phone. He scrolled through it, then his expression morphed into a positively haunted one, complete with rapidly paling skin.

"...after your training, did you come straight back here?" he asked with a faint tremor.

Ah.

Taylor shook her head. Yeah, no prizes for guessing what he was reading. "There was a…hiccup."

"Hiccup. I see…" Peizhi took a deep breath, set his phone down and pressed his fingers to his nose. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Taylor took the opportunity to mosey away and back up the stairs quietly. Whatever he was mumbling under his strangled breath, Taylor suspected she didn't want to know.

She made her way to the kitchen, where Wukong was pouring the finished tea into cups.

"Ah, here you are! Come come, sample this Old Sun's brewing!"

She approached the table and gingerly picked up the cup. The earthly scent tickled her nostrils and she felt the nerves from earlier calming down. When the first drop landed on her tongue, she winced at the sudden heat -

Huh. Actually, it wasn't  that  hot.

"This is…really good." She stared at the liquid with curiosity. "I mean, the tea's good and it's not too hot, but I don't think it's very different from what Peizhi does. Um, no offense-"

Wukong let out a bark of laughter. "None taken, dear girl! On the contrary, this Old Sun couldn't receive a better compliment, especially from his disciple!"

Ignoring her blush, Taylor sat herself down in the offered seat while Wukong did the same in his, calmly sipping his tea. His smile softened from the sharp grin as she stared at the tea, and when he breathed in the smell, it was as though he used all of his lungs for that sole purpose.

"Exquisite indeed. It warms this Old Sun's heart that the art of cha has not left his old bones. Now, what is it you wish to ask of me? You go first!"

Where to even start?

Taylor returned the cup to the table and took a deep breath. "That…clone power. How can you do that?"

"Ah, my Body Beyond Body Technique! Yes, a crown jewel of my arsenal!" He plucked a hair from his mane and held it aloft. "With one breath, I can transform my hair into anything I wish! My clones are some of my finer examples."

She peered closer at the hair, and against the lightbulb, she swore she saw a faint halo shimmering around it. "Anything you want?" she asked. Sounded overkill…but this came from the cape who seemed to drink five liters of drama juice with his morning tea. Still, even if he was hamming it up, that sounded like one useful power, especially with those clones. Was that why he looked like a monkey? Because of those hairs?

"Are the clones real?"

"They are as real as you and I, child. They do anything I can do, with all my spells and skills, though they are a fragile lot, and their gift of verbosity is rather limited compared to my own loquacious spirit. I tend to have them vanish after a few hours, saves me the hassle of keeping track of them."

That was nice. "And you can make-" Wait. Taylor's eyes widened. "You made my brush from your hair. Does that mean it's gonna vanish?" She hadn't even properly tried it out yet!

"Hah! Fret not, child. Mundane objects like your gift aren't bound by those constraints. They are simple constructs, a far cry from my clones, and require no effort."

She exhaled and banished that brief worry from her mind. "That's a relief, thanks," she pointed to his ear. "So does that mean your staff is also like that?"

"My staff?" Wukong laughed again. "A good guess, but far from it!" He reached into his ear with two fingers and pulled out the needle-sized staff, which expanded to full size in a flash of gold. "My Ruyi Jingu Bang can change size at my command. I could create staves, but none of them could match this one. A prized weapon capable of matching any foe above and below the earth!" He twirled the staff around for a few seconds, deftly avoiding the cups and furniture. "It was gifted to me by old Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the East!" His fingers caressed the staff as fondness seeped into his voice. "It has been a loyal weapon ever since. A match not even the heavens could pair."

Dragon King of the East? Was that code for something? A cape from China, one of the Yangban?

Did that mean he tangled with the CUI? That still didn't explain even half of the bizarre things he said or didn't know about.

Nevertheless, it was an impressive staff, that much she could admit. The shaft was polished so well that it glistened like glass, the tips were capped with the most elaborate golden carvings she'd seen, depicting dragons and swirls. Along the shaft, Chinese characters were inscribed in gold ink.

Apparently, gold being a soft metal never crossed his mind…but to be fair, it was a very heavy metal as well.

"I believe it is this Old Sun's turn to ask questions now, my dear. We did promise an exchange, didn't we?" he asked and set the staff aside. "I'm curious about the group those ruffians claimed a part of. The Empire Eighty-Eight, yes? Could you tell me more about them?"

Taylor shifted in her spot as she felt sourness creeping over her. "They're the biggest gang in the city, and they've been around since my dad's time. The biggest neo-Nazi group in the country backed up with cape muscle. The heroes and PRT have been trying to kick them out for years, but they're in too deep. The fact that their leader Kaiser is a powerful cape himself doesn't help."

"A group of thugs so persistent they became leeches. I would call that impressive if it wasn't so pathetic." Wukong took another sip of his tea and tilted his head. "What is a 'Nazi'?"

…okay, how did he not know what Nazis were!?

"Nazis are…" she tried to find a good description of the group who through terror, war, and blood tried to conquer the world, how their ideology condemned a slew of different people - one to near-extinction - and that their legacy and continued existence was a blight upon society that should never have been allowed to grow in America or anywhere. There was a reason why "fuck the Nazis" would get nods and praises everywhere civilized.

"The worst kind of people. If you're not their kind, they hate you. And if they won't kill you for that, they'll ensure you wish they did."

Wukong took it all in with a sagely nod. "Hate-filled parasites, then? Truly undeserving of the number they flaunt. Vandals such as they deserve not even a thimbleful of luck. Why haven't the heroes removed them?"

"Numbers for one. Every neo-Nazi hiding in the country flocks to them in one way or another. Also, the Empire has capes, and the heroes don't want to risk innocents getting caught in the crossfire of a cape war," she replied with a frown. No one said it outright, but everyone knew it. That was why they could recruit from dumps like Winslow; as long as it wasn't blatant, the cops and heroes didn't dare touch them.

"And I presume the two I encountered were only a tasting of their full forces?"

"Crusader and Victor, yeah. I don't remember all of them, but there's also Hookwolf, Krieg - shit!"

"Now that is a fitting name!"

"No, not that!" Although a Nazi being named 'shit' was hilarious as hell. "Victor, where is he?"

"Limping back to his master, no doubt. I admit, my enthusiasm allowed him a chance to slither away, but it is of little concern."

Taylor's eye twitched as she calmly gripped her teacup. She desperately prayed not to break it.

"Why isn't it a concern exactly?"

"Because it is not just this Old Sun they'll contend with." He raised an eyebrow and smirked behind his cup.

For the second - or maybe millionth - time today, Taylor's brain crashed. Was he implying -

"Comprehensive training revolves around more than pummeling boxes and exercising. Only living opponents, ones more suited to your level, will truly help you grow. Fortunately, karma has provided us with the perfect tools to aid you. Low-level crooks, captains and even a chieftain! Right at our doorstep, no less! By the time I finish training you, this false Empire will fall at your feet!"

Most of Taylor, still in shock and denial from earlier events, wanted to scream in protest. How the hell was she going to beat someone like Kaiser, much less a whole gang of capes? She barely knew how to throw a punch!

…but another part, slowly growing, made itself known from the tingle in her back. One that whispered soft words of drive, temptation and excitement.

Are you really gonna chicken out now? What happened to being a hero?

"Let me get this straight," she said with a small voice, tossed and scrambled with so many emotions she couldn't keep track. "You want me to take out the Empire? By myself?"

Wukong leaned back and kept flashing that smirk, the amusement radiating off him like a star. "First steps, dear disciple, first steps. You have plenty of room to grow, but 'tis always good to have short-term goals in mind. And truly, can you not think of a better one? A full yard has been bestowed upon you, and you should utilize every tool inside."

He took another sip, clearly enjoying his tea. Taylor didn't even think to drink hers.

The brain could only do so much when it was stuck in a paradoxical state of "okay", "how?" and "are you fucking kidding me!?"

In the end, one word escaped her mouth.

"Tool?"

"How else would you describe an army's worth of training dummies?"

Chapter Text

We tell you now about two worthies who lived on the banks of the river Jing outside the city of Chang'an: a fisherman by the name of Zhang Shao and a woodman by the name of Li Ding. The two of them were scholars who had passed no official examination, mountain folks who knew how to read. One day in the city of Chang'an, after they had sold the wood on the one's back and the carp in the other's basket, they went into a small inn and drank until they were slightly tipsy. Each carrying a bottle, they followed the bank of the Jing River and walked slowly back.

"Brother Li," said Zhang Shao, "in my opinion those who strive for fame will lose their lives on account of fame; those who live in quest of fortune will perish because of riches; those who have titles sleep embracing a tiger; and those who receive official favors walk with snakes in their sleeves. When you think of it, their lives cannot compare with our carefree existence, close to the blue mountains and fair waters. We cherish poverty and pass our days without having to quarrel with fate."

"Brother Zhang," said Li Ding, "there's a great deal of truth in what you say. But your fair waters cannot match my blue mountains."

"On the contrary," said Zhang Shao, "your blue mountains cannot match my fair waters, in testimony of which I offer a lyric to the tune of 'Butterflies Enamored of Flowers' that says:

In a small boat o'er ten thousand miles of misty waves I lean to the silent, single sail,

Circled by sounds of the mermaid-fish.

My mind cleansed, my care purged, here lacks wealth or fame;

Leisurely I pick stems of bulrushes and reeds.

Counting the seagulls is a pleasure to be told!

At willowed banks and reeded bays

My wife and son join my joyous laugh.

I sleep most soundly as wind and wave recede;

No shame, no glory, nor any misery."

-Journey to the West, ch. 10. The lives of the commoners contrast with the life at court, yet even the lowborn measure themselves to each other. Unlike those at the top, who scramble at every crag to ascend the mountain's peak, they are content with enjoying the fruits of its base.

"An army of monkeys? You're joking, right?"

When Triumph came into the Wards' common room to tell them about the latest antics of Brockton's newest cape, a short list had already formed in Vista's mind. But she had to admit, an 'army of monkeys' was not among them.

"What do you mean exactly?" asked Kid Win, lifting up his visor as he reclined on the burgundy sofa. "Like, civilians dressed up like him, or-"

"Nope, I'm talking about an actual army of monkeys," Triumph stressed, disbelief coloring his words even as he spoke. "An onlooker showed me a video he captured on his phone. Crusader and Victor paid a visit to the Asian district, and Sun Wukong decided to greet them. He stopped recording, but then the next clip he shows me is that of a dozen monkeys identical to Wukong going to town on the Nazis."

"Okay, where the hell did he pull that from?" asked Aegis, fiddling with his red helmet. "How does an extendable staff and being a monkey translate to clones?"

"Maybe he's a power copier or some kind of Trump. He sounds like he gets around," suggested Clockblocker. "But I'm not seeing a link. Or it could be that his whole powerset revolves around monkey business and driving people bananas."

Vista stifled a giggle, though she did a terrible job of hiding it. In her defence, Nazis receiving a beatdown always warranted laughter. "Can we see? I've been looking for something funny, and YouTube doesn't do it these days."

Clockblocker sent her a brief look, but didn't bother hiding his interest.

"When it gets cleared by the evidence, I'll show it. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you'll see it by the time tomorrow's news rolls out."

"Great, then we'll make a movie night out of it," Clockblocker snickered, but then his smile dimmed. "It's not like we couldn't use a few laughs, considering…you-know-who."

Whatever brief levity that existed in the room was thrown out of a slingshot. Vista wrinkled her nose and felt her hands tighten on her arms. Yes, considering the sheer fuck-up their fellow Ward had gotten herself into, an excuse to laugh didn't sound so bad.

"I'm still not sure we're hearing the real story," Aegis muttered, his brows furrowed as he played with his red helmet. "There's gotta be another angle no one is telling the public."

"Another angle?" Vista scoffed. "What else is there to know? Shadow Stalker was a bitch, and we all knew it. The rest of the PRT knew it. Hell, even a blind and deaf man would know it! A bullying campaign isn't so out of character for her."

Aegis flinched, but a rebuttal didn't come right away. Since Triumph was due to join the Protectorate soon, he'd been trying his best to act as a mediator between their disputes as their next leader. He had to break up insult-fests between Shadow Stalker and the rest of them more than once; he had to know better than they how bad she was.

"Then why didn't anyone speak up? I mean, sure, no one knew her identity, but if she was that bad, she wouldn't have lasted so long without someone reporting her."

"Winslow's a shithole, Aegis," replied Kid Win. His statement was uttered with the same surety as 'water is wet' and 'the Slaughterhouse Nine are psychos'. "I've never been there, but even I know that. Either no one gave a damn, or she made sure no one did."

"That's still being investigated, Kid Win," a stern voice said from the corridor. The Wards turned as Armsmaster stepped into the room, with Miss Militia in tow. "I'd appreciate it if you don't speculate about this matter further. We don't need any 'what-if' statements leaking out of the building."

Kid Win nodded, mollified as he pulled his visor back down. Triumph quickly joined the heroes' side, trying to imitate their authority. While sometimes he pulled it off, right now Vista thought it made him look like an ass.

"Sir, where is Stalker right now?" Vista asked.

"In our custody while we investigate this whole matter. It goes without saying she won't be patrolling or rejoining your routine for the foreseeable future."

Vista wanted to inquire more, but the hero's rigid posture made her back down. She couldn't pry it out of him even with a crowbar.

"Regardless, what Triumph has told you all is true; we've confirmed reports that Sun Wukong engaged Victor and Crusader yesterday evening. We thought Crusader had left the E88, considering there were no sightings of him for several months; according to his words, he was on 'vacation'. He's currently in our custody, having sustained various injuries through his armor thanks to Sun Wukong. He'll be tried and, god willing, on a one-way transport to prison within a few days. Unfortunately, Victor was not present at the crime scene when PRT forces arrived."

Vista's nose wrinkled at the mention of Victor. Most Empire members were racist thugs, but they were usually vocal about it, even if gangsters like Hookwolf took it to an extreme. Victor was a different kind of scummy: the condescending, nose-in-the-air kind. If you weren't up to the "Aryan Ideal", you were trash. Vista only engaged with him once, and the bastard had the gall to pull a Palpatine speech on her. Saying it was a shame that 'a child of proper breeding willingly consorted with undesirables'.

Orders from console and Militia be damned, she wanted to pull the space between them and punch him then and there.

"We've combed all exits to the neighborhood, even searched the truck they used, but we were unable to track him down," Armsmaster continued, and Vista shivered at the slightest hint of frustration in his voice. "We need to be ready for a retaliation attempt, either against us or the Asian community."

"Another one?" Kid Win groaned as he threw back his head. "It feels like that's what we've been doing for months now! First Lung, then Stalker, now this! I mean, I know they're Nazis, but you'd think they wouldn't so easily fall for bait like that!"

"Win's got a point," nodded Clockblocker. "Kaiser's not a hothead like Lung was."

Armsmaster frowned and looked one second away from delivering a pointed lecture combo on them when Miss Militia cut in. "We can't afford to ignore it. If we don't put our presence out on the streets, then the gangs will take that as a sign of complete neglect. Even if our control over the situation is limited, it's better than no control at all."

None of the Wards looked happy with that statement, but they still nodded.

"Since you're down a member, we'll have to increase your patrolling schedules," Armsmaster continued, causing everyone to stifle groans. "It's not optimal, I know, but necessity demands it. Browbeat is with Assault right now while the rest of the Protectorate is covering their assigned areas." He tapped the holo-display on his gauntlet as he talked. "The new schedule will even out your patrolling times and consider your school time. Rest periods will be tighter than usual, but I've done my best to ensure a balanced workload between all of you. If the schedule feels overwhelming, talk to me so we can recalibrate."

"Does this count as overtime?" Kid Win muttered, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Seriously, we've been stretched like rubber bands for a while now. And now you're telling me we've gotta pull double shifts now?"

He has a point, Vista thought. Her schedule was relatively lighter compared to the rest of the Wards because of her age, and the pressure was growing tangible. Nevertheless, she welcomed the challenge. Give her a round of back-to-back patrols any day; anything to keep her away from her home.

"Blame the gangs. They don't care if it's overtime or not." Armsmaster shot back. Miss Militia glanced at him and interjected before Win could complain more.

"It's more of a change in routes than actual increased shifts. We know how difficult these past few weeks have been, and so it won't be too strenuous. It won't conflict with your school time or personal time too drastically. Again, if you feel overwhelmed at any point, don't stay silent."

A small comfort, they supposed. Vista inwardly grimaced at the thought of increased patrol time, but Militia and Armsmaster were right; until they could get new Wards or heroes transferred in, there wasn't much they could do. At least it was better than being home for another session of scream-a-thons.

"What about New Wave?" Gallant asked with some hesitation. When every head turned to him, he flinched, but nonetheless continued. "They're patrolling too. Vi-er, Glory Girl's been telling me how she's been flying over town every day, and the whole family's pitching in."

"We've already reached out to New Wave about the current situation and came to an agreement. They'll assist PRT and Protectorate efforts in maintaining order and quelling the rowdier gangs. Your new routes have taken their presence into consideration."

Small mercies then. Armsmaster lowered his gauntlet and faced the door again. "Kid Win, you're with me. Gear up and meet me downstairs in fifteen."

Win sighed and hopped off the couch. "Sure thing." He stretched a bit and adjusted his visor as Vista and the others wished him luck. Before anyone left, however, Vista voiced the words she'd held back since Triumph came in and delivered the news.

"I'm guessing Wukong wasn't there when Crusader was picked up?"

Armsmaster froze mid-step. Triumph bit his lip, holding back a reprimand, but even he couldn't help but glance at the hero like all of them. For a moment, she saw Armsmaster's fingers twitch despite his rigid posture.

"Efforts are being made to discern his location as we speak," he said. Vista was sure if he wasn't…him…the hero would've snarled. "I've sent a request to Dragon for some of her drones, but so far he's proven… elusive."

"You mean he's being a constant monkey on your back?" Clockblocker joked.

The Wards collectively groaned, and Triumph pinched his nose.

"Not the time, Clock," Vista muttered. Clockblocker just flashed a grin, though it quickly tapered off after her follow-up question. "Did any of you run into him?" she asked.

Gallant raised his hand. "I saw him sitting on top of a lamppost downtown a few days ago on a patrol with Dauntless. He just sat there cross-legged, watching people and eating from a giant bag of nachos. We barely had time to move before he saw us, waved, and jumped over the building behind him. The ten-story tall building… and the ones behind that."

Oh right, Wukong apparently had a taste for nachos, of all things. That could explain why she saw more kids eating nachos at the school cafeteria lately. "What about the police or PRT troopers? I saw on Console duty one of them reported him at a bank."

"He always gets away before any sort of backup arrives," replied Gallant, looking at the screens hanging on the walls. Currently, they were on CNN, with the long-faced anchorman jabbering about some political bullshit. "I was with Battery, and we inquired around the Asian District about his whereabouts, but no one could tell us. Personally, I think they're covering for him."

"And every tip we get is long-expired. That monkey really knows how to get around." Another chuckle came from Clockblocker and Vista braced herself for another lame pun. Or worse, a dad joke. "Talk about swinging around in a concrete jungle, am I right?"

…okay, not death penalty level, but still a felony.

"There's also that girl, Taylor," Aegis said. "We haven't spotted her since Wukong took off with her. I hope she's alright."

"I don't know if being Stalker's top bullying pick leaves a person 'alright'," Vista remarked, but her snark vanished after that. "But I hope she's at least better than before."

"Her father is currently under our protection and he's assisting our efforts to track her down. Our prediction is that, barring any unexpected circumstance, she'll stick to the current source of her security. When we find Sun Wukong, we'll find Taylor Hebert," Armsmaster said resolutely. "And you're correct, Vista. Wukong has shown a pattern of sticking close to the Asian District. We're formulating a plan of attack and coordinating with the police, so we'll find him soon enough."

Vista wanted to believe it, but she had a feeling that 'sooner' wasn't as soon as the Protectorate or Piggot would like. Unless…

"...I think I know how we can find him faster." The youngest Ward bit her lip. Armsmaster shifted his gaze to her, along with the room's attention, but most importantly, Miss Militia's.

"Absolutely not!" the heroine shut her down with narrowed eyes.

"But I know where he'll be!" Vista protested. "He won't suspect I'm a Ward or even a cape-"

"You don't know that. As things stand, we barely know anything about him. Stalker's unmasking might've been a fluke, but one time by accident is already one time too many. And you want to meet him as a civilian?" Militia shook her head. "It's too risky."

"I didn't say it wasn't, but it sounds a whole lot better than playing tag with him all over the city!"

"Um, sorry if I'm missing the context here," Clockblocker chimed in. "But what exactly is Vista suggesting?"

Even from behind a visor, Vista could tell Armsmaster wasn't too pleased with her idea. "An hour or so before Shadow Stalker's incident, Vista encountered Sun Wukong inside a bookshop while in her civilian guise. She's proposing to use his familiarity with her to pin his location."

Aegis's head shot up. "Wait, so you actually met him face-to-face? Why didn't you tell us before?"

"I told her to keep that encounter on a need-to-know basis," said Triumph, arms crossed and looking none too pleased. "I informed Piggot and the Protectorate, but we needed to be methodical. Using that information to lay a trap could damage our efforts in arresting Wukong, especially since he's proven he can evade us with little effort."

Clockblocker leaned forward without shame or heed of the room's atmosphere. "He was in a bookstore? What did he want?"

"He was reading a history book and…he wanted recommendations. For reading." And wasn't that a bizarre request? Hell, she still had the list.

"What did you recommend?"

"A few mystery novels-"

"Not important right now," Armsmaster cut them off. "Regardless of how the encounter went, we're not sending a Ward alone to confront a dangerous cape like Wukong."

"What about the park he hangs out in?" asked Kid Win. "There's footage of him playing with the local kids there. Couldn't we place a stakeout nearby to alert us?"

"We have, but there's too great a risk of collateral damage involved with such a public space. And…" Armsmaster's frown grew. "It's not just a matter of location, else we would've planted ambush sites in the park moments after he unmasked Shadow Stalker."

"It's PR, isn't it?" Aegis asked with frustration. "You're trying to avoid another scandal."

Armsmaster and Militia didn't reply, but everyone knew the question was rhetorical.

"We're losing a great deal of goodwill from the public," Miss Militia started. "We've been fending off calls and accusations for days on end. Right now, we're on damage control while we try and resolve the whole Shadow Stalker incident without attracting any more press than necessary. We need to show the public that the Protectorate, the Wards, and the PRT who manage them aren't incompetent fools like half the public is already convinced we are. And despite our efforts and warnings, Brockton's Asian community perceives Wukong as more of a hero and a fixture among them than any of us, and we don't have much support from them on account of the ABB's interference."

More like letting them rule the area unchallenged, thought Vista as she recalled her previous stints in the district. Before the whole mess started, any patrols and appearances in the Asian District always bore the Sword of Damocles that was Lung's presence. Any crime they stopped, any ABB member they arrested, and any extended presence there always ran the risk of the half-naked dragon-man trashing the joint. Granted, unless it directly interfered with his business Lung didn't care too much…but it burned her to stare at the people whom they were supposed to protect and think: we can't help you too much, or we'll make things worse.

"Now enters a new cape, just as powerful as Lung, but has the one thing the ABB never had: actual community support. If we rush this, we risk damaging far more than bystanders or anyone on the front lines." Militia shook her head, and the ruefulness in her voice pained Vista. Militia was practically her mentor in the Wards, and she'd never seen her back down in a fight…unless it was to save a life. Which, in a way, is what she's doing.

It didn't sit right with her to play a game to save face and reputation; people constantly changed their opinions. One day, they heaped praise upon praise on the heroes, and the next, they were yelling at them for God-knows what. She'd faced the court of public opinion more than once, and she'd hated every second of it.

"Wukong and Taylor Hebert are top priorities, but he must be handled in a controlled manner," Armsmaster continued. "Right now, your focus should be on saving lives and stopping criminals. Kid Win, remember; ten minutes."

With those words, Armsmaster left the room, his boots clanking down the hall. Militia sent Vista an apologetic glance before joining him while Kid Win ran out of the room, mumbling under his breath.

The girl crossed her arms and certainly did not pout. She understood what Armsmaster and Miss Militia were saying, but it felt unfair. She saw an opportunity and they didn't want to take it because of politics!

"Whatever you're thinking, don't," Triumph warned.

"I wasn't," Vista replied with a tinge of bitterness.

"Good. The last thing we need is one of you pulling a stunt that could get us into even more hot water."

"One of 'you'?" Clockblocker glared. "Wow, did I miss the Protectorate ceremony, Triumph? 'Cause last I checked, you were still one of us."

Triumph held back a hiss, and then his shoulders slumped as he sighed. "Sorry, Clock. It's just…things have been wild recently. First, the whole ABB mess and then Shadow Stalker… meanwhile half the time I'm running to the PR department and stopping them from trying to "rebrand" my costume, like that's gonna help us. Remember the press conference Piggot gave after the incident?"

"I thought they were gonna barbecue her with an industrial furnace," he shivered. The Wards were kept from the conference itself, but the TVs broadcast it live for all to see and hear. The reports held nothing back, along with whatever noisemakers and 'concerned citizens' that tried to steal the show.

"I was arresting some gangbangers when some paparazzi started hounding me, questioning my competence as a leader." He looked down and bit his lip, the golden aura of his armor seemingly dulling. "I should've done better. We all knew Stalker was problematic; if I'd just kept a better eye on her-"

"She would've found a way to get past you," Vista said. No, that bitch did not get to drag down Triumph with her. "She slipped past the Protectorate's and the PRT's radar; it wouldn't have taken much to shake off your attention."

"That's not exactly encouraging," he replied wryly.

"It isn't meant to be. But it's not like we ignored the problem; if anything, Piggot ignored us! We told her Stalker was acting crabbier than usual and how she was always in a hurry to leave somewhere."

"Vista's right," said Gallant. He rose from the sofa and walked over to Triumph, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "We can't let this get to us. You're a good friend and a great leader, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

A smile came over Triumph's lips and he nodded to his fellow Wards. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."

"Don't sweat it, man," Clockblocker said with a reassuring wave. "Wanna take a picture? We can save the embarrassment for posterity! 'The future leader of the Protectorate, in his darkest moments before his ascension, was supported by his ever-loyal teammates-'"

"Don't, or I'll tell the tech support to paint your suit pink for the rest of the year," he replied. Clock immediately shut his mouth and they all shared a laugh.

"That…felt good, not gonna lie," Aegis said, still fiddling with his crimson helmet. "Yeesh, how long has it been since we actually laughed at something that's not one of Clock's corny one-liners?"

"Too long," replied Triumph. "Say, Vista, if Armsmaster really did let you go to that bookstore undercover, what would you do?"

"Hmm…I dunno. I don't think I would try to capture him, if I'm honest," she tilted her head. "None of us are that good without serious backup. Maybe get a better read on him? I mean, I know everyone's telling us he's a villain and shouldn't get a pass for unmasking Stalker, but he didn't feel that dangerous to me. He looked really excited when I told him I read books. When was the last time that happened?"

"You shouldn't let your guard down because of that," Triumph said. "I agree, maybe he isn't all that bad, but approaching a rogue cape like him is begging Murphy to slap you."

Vista raised her hands placatingly. "Okay, okay. I swear, I'll drop the Wukong issue. It wasn't like I was gonna camp out at that bookstore and wait for him."

"Good. We're already on thin ice, and I'd really love to spare everyone more lectures."

The rest of the time until they were called on patrol was passed with easy banter and discussion on their patrols. Velocity was partnered with Vista for her next shift, and their area was downtown. With luck, things shouldn't get too chaotic if Kaiser didn't overreact like Lung.

Then again, they were Nazis. Enough said.

Yet as the chatter dragged on, Vista couldn't ignore that niggling feeling in her gut. It felt…wrong to ignore the opportunity. Wukong was stirring up a lot of hornet nests; if they could get an insight into what he was planning, they should take it regardless of the cost! Sitting around and waiting for him to screw up wasn't going to happen, and if he did, then the situation could grow far beyond their ability to deal with.

Besides, it wasn't like she planned to follow Wukong into an alley and press the walls against him. No, if she wanted to do this and not get caught, she needed to be extra sneaky. Like Stalker - eugh, she felt like puking just from the comparison. No, like…Oni Lee? Even worse! No, research stealthy heroes later; what she needed now was a better plan.

I  did  say I wouldn't camp out at the bookstore…but if he comes back to the park to play with the kids again…he won't mind another one joining in, right?'

Chapter Text

Whether tall or not, Its top reaches the blue sky;

Whether deep or not, A stream with depth like Hell down there.

Before the mountain Are often seen rings of white clouds rising

And boiling waves of dark fog; Red plums and jade-like bamboos;

Verdant cedars and green pines;

Behind the mountain Are soul-rending cliffs ten thousand yards deep,

Behind which are strange, grotesque, demon-hiding caves,

In which water drips down from rocks drop by drop,

Leading to a winding, twisting brooklet down below.

You see also fruit-bearing apes prancing and leaping,

And deer with horns forked and zigzagged;

Dull and dumbly staring antelopes;

Tigers climbing the hills to seek their dens at night;

Dragons churning the waves to leave their lairs at dawn.

When steps at the cave's entrance snap and crackle,

The fowls dart up with wings loudly beating.

Look also at these beasts pawing noisily through the woods.

When you see this horde of birds and beasts,

You will be stricken with heart-pounding fear.

The Due-to-Fall Cave faces the Due-to-Fall Cave;

The cave facing the Due-to-Fall Cave faces a god.

Green rocks are dyed like a thousand pieces of jade;

Blue-green gauze enshrouds ten thousand piles of mist.

-Journey to the West, Chapter 40

"Widen your stance, disciple! Weak pillars support no castles!"

Taylor drew in a sharp breath as he asked. Her golden wings shimmered under the sunlight and followed her body's motions, jutting from the two tears of her shirt. A thin layer of sweat coated her brow, and although her limbs slightly trembled, she showed no signs of stopping.

"Not so easy after several laps, is it?" Sun Wukong asked. "Breathing cools the body, but the body still suffers from the aches. If you do not breathe properly when exerting yourself, your breath becomes harsher and your body recovers more slowly. Like the flowing waters of the river, you must maintain a steady pace, lest you encounter the rapids."

She offered no verbal acknowledgement of his words; instead, she maintained her breathing and continued the exercise. Her limbs flowed close and away from her chest, and her legs remained planted upon the rubble-strewn grounds of the Trainyard. A water bottle stood nearby, half-empty from previous drinking.

As for Wukong, he was perched upon his staff and idly nibbling from a large bag of what claimed to be 'extra-spicy' nachos.

'The bite has a modicum of harshness, yet this Old Sun feels no searing…bah, compared to the old Bull's winter stew, these might as well be morsels of well-seasoned porridge!' His nose wrinkled as he looked inside the bag. The bright red of the chips almost glowed in the darkness of the crinkly material, as though the chips' maker needed to emphasize the spiciness with a visual stroke. 'Foolishness; the best spice hits the taste buds hardest when you are unaware!'

A winter breeze blew past him, whistling between the four metal crates he chose as markers for their impromptu training field. Under the cloudy sky, the bloom of Taylor's wings cast long shadows, dancing on the ground in tandem with her movements. The wings sliced through the air, the golden leaves that composed them breaking off and reforming with every step.

Taylor began to enter a new stance, and suddenly her breath hitched and a grimace twisted her features. Wukong raised an eyebrow, but she took several calming inhales and her breath evened out again. With bent knees, she rolled her arms inwards and let them settle at her hips. She then punched the air with her right fist before rolling it up and pulling the air. Once the arm returned to her side, she repeated the motion with her left.

Activating his Golden Eyes, Wukong beheld the influx of qi streaming through Taylor's wings and into her body, the ethereal stream of energy pulsating with every move she took. Motes of light sprouted from the earth around her, unseen and unfelt by all except him.

"Your wings are truly remarkable, dear girl," he commented. "To draw qi with such ease at your stage…truly, my former-former master would kill for a student such as yourself. Do you feel it? The lightness in your muscles, the cleansing tingle in your lungs?"

She slowly nodded with a furrowed brow, seeking out the qi's warmth in her body. "Yeah…it feels like water under my skin." Another fist. "Every time I throw a punch, something…rushes forward. When I pull it back…" she performs the stated motion sharply. "It's calmer. Barely a tickle. I can't seem to hold it."

Wukong chuckled. "Patience, o disciple. Even with your…unique advantage, summoning qi is no easy feat. It is meant to cycle through the body, to enter and leave. To hold it in and bring it forth on your will? Ah, now that is far trickier." He finished off the last of his nachos and crumpled the bag into a tiny ball. "For now, focus only on that sensation beneath your skin. Allow your wings to move freely and unrestrained."

Taylor nodded and continued, though he didn't miss her eyebrow twitch with impatience. Alas, such was the nature of youth; he could not change it any more than he could his own curiosity.

Over a minute had passed, and Taylor's breath grew sharper with every punch she threw. Her wings, while losing their rigidity like he'd requested of her, began to flash with greater pulses. Wukong opened his mouth to gently reprimand her when a flash of black flickered in the corner of his eye.

It was a cluster of motes, floating toward his disciple much like the rest. Yet while the other sparks of qi radiated with life and warmth, these were…hazy. Warped. Trailing like sludge and leaving a thick, purple miasma that tickled his nose -

Rotting flesh. Spoiled earth. Foul sky. DecayDEATHROTROT -

The Monkey King bared his fangs as he noticed more of them appearing around them. 'By the Dao…how did I not consider this?'

"Disciple, cease at once!"

Alas, his cry came too late. Just as the first word left his mouth, the foul lights struck Taylor's wings. At once, they flashed a deep, purple hue, and the sound of screeching metal filled the air. A choked gasp escaped Taylor's lips, and her posture collapsed like sand. Her hand flew to her chest, and she clutched her shirt tightly, her glasses almost dropping off her nose.

Wukong leapt off his staff and ran to his disciple's side. He firmly but gently placed his palm on her cheek and sent a pulse of qi into her body. She gasped again and almost fell over, but Wukong's grasp of her arm halted her descent.

"Calm yourself, dear girl. Focus on the warmth I am giving you. Breathe, allow it to flow through your veins and cleanse you. You are safe, have no fear."

Taylor sobbed, tears pooling from her eyes, but she managed to nod and power through the pain. Her breath came out ragged and scraping, yet she maintained a measure of evenness. With every heave of her chest, Wukong felt his qi flowing into her body. The glow from the wings began to alternate between the eerie purple and its normal gold, disintegrating and reforming at its tips. More than once, she nearly collapsed from the strain, but Wukong's grip held strong, as did her willpower. Finally, after several torturous minutes, the wings returned to their normal golden shine, and the foulness that had invaded her body no longer remained.

Wukong glanced at the apparition floating above them, shifting and fluctuating with every passing second. Unlike its host, it had shown no visible reaction to the sudden change. If it did, then it was so subtle not even his Golden Eyes could discern it…which was worrying in and of itself. The false long's apparition had reacted to his distress, so why not this one?

Taylor leaned against Wukong's grasp, still dry-heaving. She took a large gulp of air before Wukong used his tail to grab the water bottle and offer it to her. Swiping it from the appendage's hold, she hastily screwed it open and took several large swigs. After a bout of coughing, she finally regained the constitution to speak.

"Wha-what the fuck was that?"

"An excellent question, my disciple, yet one I fear bears an unfortunate answer. Tell me, what came over you?"

Taylor bit her lip and Wukong felt a shiver run down her body through his hold. "It…I was breathing like you told me, trying to focus on the…qi under my skin. At some point, I started to…lose it. Couldn't feel it anymore." Her lips pressed into a flat line as frustration marred her words. "When you told me that…qi…was everywhere, I tried pulling in more. And it worked. It came rushing in and…" A bark of laughter escaped her, borne of elation and disbelief. "I kept pulling and pulling. But then-"

She shivered violently, and she looked down at the ground, her face growing pale. "It was horrible," she whispered. "It was Sophia all over again. It felt like the garbage dump of garbage dumps. I was crawling through mud and I felt vomit crawling up my - oh, shit."

Wukong rubbed her cheek and crouched low as she dry-heaved again. "Yes, it is a grotesque experience, one that a novice like you shouldn't have gone through. I hope you accept this Old Sun's apology, dear girl. I should have foreseen this - nay, I knew of it when I gazed upon this city with my Golden Eyes." He shook his head, and a low hiss trailed through his fangs. "I was too enthralled at the possibilities that your power may grant you, I failed to consider the curses that would follow with the blessings."

"C-curse?" She looked at him with bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

With a heavy sigh, Wukong gently raised Taylor onto her feet and gazed at the lot. Even now, he could still see the purple motes darting around them, their trailing miasma twisting in macabre patterns.

"The relationship between qi and the universe is not one-sided. Qi may form its underlying foundation, yet even the foundation is shaped and altered by the materials laid upon it. Take the structure I have placed around you, for instance." He gestured to the four crates. "Do you know why these carts are arranged in such a manner?"

"So I can run laps around them?"

"Partially, but its primary use was to help you control your qi flow. The carts each face the four cardinal winds. An auspicious formation, aligned with the sixiang bagua, to bring harmony to the environment and allow for a better flow of qi. Consider a river: if it flows along a level path and its bends are smooth, then the waters shall be tranquil, to the point where one can gaze upon its surface like glass."

The confusion within Taylor only grew, even as her eyes flickered to the carts.

"Harmony and balance with nature: when those conditions are achieved, when the land is healthy and hale, so is the qi. And when the river of qi is allowed to flow as intended, it soothes the land and helps it heal through the seasons. Conversely, however, if the land is…tainted, then qi cannot properly flow. Negativity, blood, violence…all of these can corrupt qi and turn it foul. Such dark energy heals nothing, only corrupts. And to absorb such tainted qi…"

He shook his head. "The mortal form cannot handle such corruption. And for all the wonders of this city, the qi here is absolutely rancid. Barely any harmony with nature; only chaos and filth. Now that I dwell upon it, I am surprised that we have practiced for this long without you succumbing to its effects sooner."

Taylor tilted her head, still mired with skepticism. "So…you're saying that because of…bad qi…I almost threw up my organs?"

"Be thankful to the heavens it was merely a bout of sickness, disciple. I have seen what happens to those who have fallen to the haze of foul qi." He narrowed his eyes. "Pray you never do."

She gulped at his words. Good. Better she fear now than witness later.

His gaze switched to her wings, watching as they thrummed with light. 'What I said before was true enough; she should have displayed such aversion much sooner than a mere three days.' More specks of qi flew at them and phased into the wings. 'Puzzling.'

"Taylor, did you intentionally draw in more qi?"

She ducked her head, though it did little to hide her flash of embarrassment. "I just…I didn't feel anything change. It's always lying there, like it's waiting or something, but I can't get it to work." She rolled her shoulders and the wings moved. "And I can barely do anything with these. They can't just be glorified solar panels, there's gotta be something else, and I can't put a finger on-"

Wukong couldn't help himself. He threw back his head, and a joyous cackling burst from his lips.

"So impatient, young one! A flower does not bloom overnight! Of course you haven't reached your goal!" He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye and stared fondly into her wide eyes. "Do you not recall what I said when we first came here? It takes months, even years, to use qi beyond the body. And your power is a mystery to me as much as it is to you; I know many mysteries between heaven and earth, but this one is a secret we both must unearth together!"

Taylor winced at the words months and years. Wukong's smile softened and he patted her shoulder. "Chin up, dear girl. Even the greatest heroes needed time to learn, if not master, their unique talents. I am no exception to this rule. Though I freely admit, I have a more…natural advantage than most. Even so, take pride in what you have accomplished. To draw and channel qi in a mere three days is a feat that would turn you into the envy of any disciple."

For the first time since their session began, a tired smile graced Taylor's lips. Her posture straightened ever-so-slightly, and some of the weariness seemed to fade from her visage.

"Thanks. It…means a lot."

Ever the skeptic? Well, only her results would dissuade her illusions.

"It is a teacher's duty to support his students, even if he must point out their failings." His tone turned cheeky. "But in the future, do try and restrain yourself from pulling in too much qi; your body cannot yet handle it, and this Old Sun doesn't believe you would like to repeat this experience again, no?"

She shook her head and took another swig from the bottle, while Wukong stared at the wings again. "As for why you didn't feel the effects sooner…perhaps there is some form of filter in your wings, like a mosquito net. When you tried to draw in more qi, it could not handle the sudden influx." His eyes narrowed. "I also fear sensitivity; such attunement goes both ways, and a violent reaction on first contact proves it."

"But if this qi," she paused and muttered. "I can't believe I'm saying this," before returning to her normal tone. "Is…corrupted by pollution, then it's gotta be everywhere, right?"

"Beyond the city limits, and the conditions outside aren't ideal either." He rubbed his chin and paced around, his tail swishing back and forth behind him. "Alas, we lack other options. Considering the circumstances, this yard is the best option for you." He tisked and sighed in resignation. "Amitabha, this is a conundrum. At the very least, it saved you from a breakdown on the battlefield. Perhaps this could serve as endurance testing."

Surprisingly, Taylor only seemed mildly startled at the prospect of facing such an ordeal again. Hah, my disciple's resolve is firmer than god-forged steel! I pray it lasts for as long.

"But for now, I think some rest is in order." He snapped his fingers, and his staff flew into his hand before shrinking to its travel size.

Taylor blinked. "But I can-"

"I must silence your protests, disciple mine," Wukong cut her off. "I will not risk your health for further training. Unlike this Old Sun, your body requires rest. Or have you forgotten your first week?

"...fine," she grumbled, though a hint of relief wormed through her mask. Her wings dissolved with her mental command and she picked up her hooded jacket. "So we go back?"

"Yes, and with no detours this time. The ruffians shall await their discipline tomorrow." He offered her a hand, which she quickly took after donning the jacket. "Let us sally forth then!"

He picked her up from under her legs and leaped back to Peizhi's home. Once they waited until no pedestrians were present to witness their return, Wukong dropped down from the roof and quickly kicked the door open.

"A merry day to you, Peizhi-xiansheng! All has been well in your humble shop?"

Peizhi, sitting behind the counter, blinked and snapped his head toward them. "Oh, Wukong. You're early."

"Taylor needed a break," he said, setting the girl down. "She has proven diligent in her studies, but even the most steadfast of students require destressing."

"Oh…okay. Good to know..." He sent a weak and unsure smile toward her, to which she responded with an awkward wave. "No trouble this time?"

"I believe such adventures wouldn't help Taylor today. It was a smooth journey home, so do not fear for trouble brewing." He then pointed to his host's head. "By the way, what is that in your ear?"

Peizhi blinked again and reached into his ear, pulling out a white nub that dangled from a long cord. "Um, that's an earbud. I use it for music."

Wukong tilted his head. "Music? Whatever do you mean?"

Peizhi scratched his head, his coat rustling with his movements. "Well, you can listen to music on a phone. But you don't want to annoy people by playing it out loud, so you use earbuds."

"Listen to music?" Wukong's gaze drifted to the black device on the counter, where indeed, the white cord was connected to. "But who plays it?"

"It…depends on the song," Peizhi replied. Taylor was staring all the while, looking at him like he had proclaimed Laozi a duck who danced with Yama. "Singers and bands record them so other people can hear them. They use discs, but nowadays many just make it available for streaming."

Such funny terms! What does music have to do with rivers?

"Were you listening to a song right now?"

"Y-yeah. It's from the early 80s, before capes came into the picture-"

Wukong swiped the phone from the counter, dragging the 'earbuds' with it. He popped them into his ears - they were soft, but hardly cotton - and looked at the phone. A picture of a wild-haired woman with a pink scarf against a blue background was on the screen, and beneath her was a grey rectangle. At its center was a triangle enclosed within a circle, and flanking it were two opposite-faced arrows.

A rather obvious cue. One which he pressed...and nearly shrieked as noise filled his ears.

'A yayue band, a button's press away! Not even the sages could conjure such an idea! And this music!' Drums beat harshly to thunderous clapping, accompanied by the vicious strumming of a zheng. If a zheng was imbued with lightning and the pull of a great bow, and set within the bowels of the deepest cave under the heavens. And the woman's voice! None of the softness of a court singer or the high-pitched croon of a xiqu actor. Nay, it was raw, savage, belting out every passion within her soul, her passion to this…rock and roll?

This was no story of heroes, no epic saga or weeping tragedy. Nay, this was…personal. The lamentations of a poet set to the tune of chaos and churned in a divine storm.

It was unlike any song or tune that had graced the Monkey King's ears…and he didn't stop his tail from bouncing to every clap.

"Oh, joyous day! Why didn't you tell this Old Sun of such wonderment before?" he asked as he danced. His body twisted through the dusty aisle, kicking the air and clapping along to the beat. Leaping between the aisles, he spun and looped in the air, barely grazing the ceiling. "When I visit my children again on the mountain, they shall dance to this tune for generations to come!"

Both Taylor and Peizhi's eyes had grown so wide, he feared for the safety of their skulls. Ah, they were in awe of his acrobatic genius! Well, he couldn't blame them; at every feast, he was the envy of his fellow kings for his prowess on the ballroom floor. The dances he led his fellow monkeys in; none could compare!

"Um…can I have my-"

Ooh, another rush!

Sun Wukong danced into the evening, cavorting around the house with wild abandon, laughing and hollering all the while. Peizhi constantly tried to get his attention, yet always backed away when he stopped. He really needed to work on his decisiveness, the poor fellow! Others with less-than-noble intentions could abuse it! Taylor just leaned on the counter, her expression caught between phases he couldn't decipher, yet more than once, he caught her lips twitch upward.

Yet as he danced, played song after song on the miraculous device, a stray thought lingered on his capricious mind. One that vanished the moment he recalled it, but came to him when night had fallen and he rested his eyes within the hallways of the house he'd come to call a new home.

"When I visit my children again on the mountain."

It has been many years.

It is not the first time I have left. They are fine, they've weathered all threats. I always returned.

There is much to do here. But a visit is not impossible, not with my powers.

So why haven't I?

The answer did not come to Wukong, and the tightening in his stone heart did not reassure him in the slightest.

Chapter Text

Fifteenth, a lovely night and feast;

Spring hues blend with the first full moon.

Floral lights o'erhang busy shops

As people sing the songs of peace.

You see only bright lights in the six streets and three marts

When a mirror rises in midair.

The moon seems like a silver dish the River God pushed up;

The lights look like brocade carpets woven by divine maidens.

The lights in moonlight

Add one measure of light;

The moon shines on the lights,

Enhancing their brilliance.

There are countless iron chains and star-bridges to see,

And endless lamp wicks and flaming torches to watch.

The snowflake lantern

And the plum-flower lantern

Seem to be chiseled from spring ice.

-Journey to the West, chapter 91

"I say, Peizhi-xiansheng, this is quite the surprise! I was completely unaware this was a time of festivities!" Wukong sipped his tea and turned to his disciple, who was doing the same. "Dear girl, did you know about this?"

Taylor blinked, then her gaze drifted to the circular bushel of leaves hanging on the wall. Two green banners hung above it, sporting colored drawings of bells and snowflakes.

"Christmas…oh, right," she said. "It's Christmas." She slowly nodded and continued speaking, though her tone grew bewildered. "Huh, I actually forgot it was Christmas time. That's a first. I mean, I saw decorations and kitschy ads on the street, but it didn't…" she kept mumbling as she fiddled with her cup.

His dear host nodded sympathetically, garbed in a thick woolen shirt he called a 'sweater'. With that much wool, it would make even a skinless yaksha sweat!

"I get it. Everything's so wild that the rest of the world kind of zones out, right?" He scratched the back of his head and chuckled. "I actually missed this year's Thanksgiving because of that. Didn't even know the holiday happened until one of my friends called in to wish me a merry Turkey Day." The chuckle that followed wasn't all humorous. "Your life gets turned upside-down and thrown around like you're in a washing machine, and things like holidays don't really register until the last second, if at all."

Wukong felt a pang of understanding at his words. During his journey, he often longed to celebrate festivals like the Ullambana and Summer Festival with his subjects and brethren at Flower-Fruit Mountain, but the journey took precedence. And usually a new guai tried to eat his master during those times. There were a few villages and towns whose company they enjoyed whenever a festival struck, so it wasn't as though the days passed without merriment. In either case, feasts always presented themselves at the end.

He gazed outside at an empty street and a sky covered in grey. "Rather bleak for festival time. Is it the standard for the season?"

"Here in Brockton, definitely. Winters aren't much fun here. Last time it snowed was two years ago, and everyone was happy for a white Christmas."

At the mention of the word 'snow', Wukong perked up with a grin and leaned forward. "Snow? Does it snow in these lands? Where?"

Peizhi blinked, hand hovering above the teapot. "Uh…anywhere north of Florida and east of Texas in winter, I guess. Brockton Bay's a weird case. We don't get much snow in the winter, if any."

While the names his host uttered were unfamiliar to the Monkey King - yet he did recall seeing them on Peizhi's world map - the intent was not missed. With a dejected sigh, he slumped in his chair and returned his gaze to the window, eyes swimming with forlornness. "A shame. I miss the sight of white carpets upon rooftops and mountains. Alas, one cannot choose the natural whims of the weather. This Old Sun smelled no true dragons here either, so he could not ask them for a quick favor. The paperwork alone would be worth even a single snowfall."

As he finished that sentence, he scoffed. 'Amitabha, when have I ever before conceded that the Court's infernal bureaucracy would be acceptable?'

"...right," Peizhi trailed off, the same befuddled stare he'd seen many times before on his face. Was he unclear with his words? It couldn't be simpler! Well, he had no desire to delve into the intricacies and migraines of the Celestial Bureaucracy; one explanation from his attendant was enough to last his entire immortal lifespan, and if a conversation killer could be summed up in a single topic, that would prove the sharpest blade.

"So, dear disciple, what does this… Christmas… celebrate?" he asked, snapping the girl away from her mumbling. Her brow furrowed again, giving the impression of an owl staring at a fallen leaf who couldn't decide whether it was a stray rodent or a flat rock.

"It's supposed to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but these days it's an excuse to get together with friends and family and exchange gifts with them." Her mouth flickered in a faint grimace before she schooled her expression. "There are a lot of other traditions too, but that's the basis of it all."

Wukong scratched his chin. "Jesus…Jesus…the name rings a distant bell, but not a loud one. Who is he?"

Taylor gave him another befuddled glance and slumped in her chair. "This is gonna take a while, isn't it?" she mumbled, then straightened up. "Okay, I'm not religious in the slightest, but here's the cliffnotes version."

She launched into a hurried explanation, and Wukong listened attentively. This Christianity, apparently the chief faith of Meiguo, was not a faith he'd seen before, but some of Taylor's descriptions shook memories in his head. Of caravans and traders along the Silk Road, sharing meals and stories with Master Tang and his friends over a fire. Some of their wares and origins were not too dissimilar from what his disciple was describing. Curious.

Shelving those memories aside for the moment, Wukong kept paying attention to her lecture as Peizhi boiled more water, and every so often, the Monkey King would chime in with questions.

"A crucified god? Well, that is rather peculiar. What good could a crucified god do for his people? Seems like it'd be rather difficult to move around while nailed to a wooden post."

"The Bible said that by dying on the cross, he sacrificed himself to absolve mankind of its sins. Okay, now that I'm saying it out loud, it does sound kind of weird."

"Hm. Admirable ideals, but martyrdom seldom means total mercy. And he was the son of this almighty formless god? How could he be born if he was formless?"

"Well, there's the whole thing with the Virgin Mary and the Holy Spirit, how he's both the son of God and God himself… and I'm not sure how to explain it without messing it up."

"Oh no, on the contrary! Reincarnation through avatars is a common occurrence, though you require special permission for it. The whole virginity issue is the puzzling factor. How could a woman give birth without a male seed? Even Shakyamuni had a blood father in Suddhodana, despite being a reincarnation. That rubbish story with the Yellow Emperor was also nothing more than an exaggerated omen. I have it on good authority that Fubao was leaving a rather exotic party with her husband when the lightning struck."

That remark earned him another round of twitches, though he'd caught a glimmer of recognition from his host towards the end.

'Though I suppose my own birth would be considered an unnatural conception…but neither mother nor father birthed me. I wonder…ah, the nature of birth is not a topic I'd thought would be in debate today!'

Taylor then segued into more of the actual rites of Christmas, and Wukong found them rather endearing. Huddling near a fireplace before a decorated tree, singing songs, and eating good food were always welcome traditions. And once again, he lamented that no snow graced this city today; from her descriptions, such celebrations draped in the pale cloak of winter would have been a marvel.

"Chestnuts over a fire… hah, the mere mention already waters my lips! Do you enjoy them?"

"Eh, I'm more partial to turkey. Mom… she cooked up a great cranberry sauce."

"Peizhi-xiansheng mentioned that word. What's a turkey?"

"...a type of chicken. Don't they-" she cut herself off. "Right, no turkey in China."

"Even a wise monkey such as myself always has more to learn."

A few more explanations on the various meals and sweets - 'so that was the striped candy I saw hanging on stores as of late!' - later, Taylor moved to the gift-giving tradition. When she mentioned a 'Santa Claus', a figure that children believed entered houses and left presents, Wukong asked for a description. With every feature he described, his smile grew and grew until it threatened to split his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked with confusion. "Okay, now I know you're messing with me. I'm pretty sure they've heard of Santa Claus in-"

Wukong clutched his belly and howled with laughter, almost tipping over as his legs kicked the air. From behind the veil of joyous tears, Peizhi and Taylor remained ever-befuddled.

"Oh dear Budai, what a hobby you have found!"

Peizhi blinked. "Budai? Wukong, Taylor just said-"

"Come now, Peizhi-xiansheng! Do you not see? A jolly fat man with white whiskers, carrying a bottomless bag filled with gifts to children who leave him offerings of milk and sweets? And I would've never come up with it myself! Oh, joyous day indeed!" He wiped a tear from his eye and leaned forward. "Though I do ponder his choice of animal companions. I've never heard of these 'elves', and these 'rain deer' hardly sound fit to blend into a snowy environment. I wonder if his disciples help him read all those letters the children send him."

"I said reindeer, not rain deer, Master Wukong," Taylor deadpanned.

Peizhi, meanwhile, bore a ponderous look as he clutched his mug, mumbling under his breath. "Huh, they really do look alike. Why didn't I see it until now…?"

"Well, that makes more sense. He always loved to travel, and I knew he'd get tired of hobbling along mountain roads. A snow chariot sounds rather novel, but horses are preferable in such cases. His sack is also a great deal smaller and more comfortable; he wouldn't need to hoist it over his shoulder if it were bottomless."

Taylor took a deep breath and a long sip from her mug. She wordlessly pushed it over Peizhi with a limp hand. Yet Wukong noticed, even with her exasperation, her lips always twitched upward, and the heaviness in her voice seemed lighter.

"I am curious, dear Taylor, where did all these traditions come from? It sounds rather hodgepodge, and I do not believe you are certain of some of them yourself."

She opened her mouth, then paused before rubbing her chin. rubbed her chin. "Well, it came from two sources, and over the years, they were mixed up together. Back in medieval times, people used to celebrate the winter solstice with evergreen trees and bushes like that wreath. I think it's originally British or Celtic…"

Wukong nodded along as Taylor began explaining the festival's origin. A foreign celebration seeping into another culture and transformed by it was a common sight; many local festivals were fused with Buddhist and Daoist traditions, adapting and changing to suit the times. From what his disciple was describing, this festival of Christmas underwent quite the transformation indeed.

And so they kept talking, and even Peizhi chimed in with his own commentaries from time to time. Brief stories of past celebrations were exchanged, each with their respective fathers. When the subject threatened to sink the atmosphere into melancholy, Peizhi eventually asked about Taylor's progress. She was reluctant to share at first, no doubt in fear of stoking his ire, but Wukong waved her worries aside and said she was progressing smoothly for a beginner.

"I still don't get why I had to spin around fifty times with my wings out. It's not like I can see anything I want to hit."

"For balance, of course! Unsure footing leads to treacherous slippage!" And on a completely unrelated note, spinning tops were delightful toys, and a glowing aura added quite the visual punch to their whirling.

The sky outside retained its veil of gray, but Wukong could tell the sun had greatly shifted its position. A warm merriment filled the room, borne of the most peculiar circumstances and blossomed into a truly unique bouquet, if still a tad awkward. Were his questions so odd?

'Hm, a thought for another day,' Wukong mused, then smiled at his mug. 'Now, I must finish savoring this magnificent drink!'

He took a long sip from the foamy brew and smacked his lips. What a treat!

"I say, this 'eggnog' is spectacular! I've never drunk eggs in such a fashion! And is that cinnamon dancing on my tongue?" He raised his mug and dipped his head. "Once again, I am blessed by the touch of your enchanted spoon!"

"Th-thanks. I'd pour in some alcohol, but I'd rather avoid tempting the minor," he replied with a gesture to Taylor, who shrugged.

"Pah, a shame. I miss the taste of good rice wine."

Wukong's sensitive ears twitched as the pealing laughter of children echoed down the street. Glancing outside, he saw two boys chasing one another with fake swords, lost in the jungle of their imaginations.

"Hmm, correct this Old Sun if he's wrong, but I recall seeing toys with motifs of Christmas in your shop." Peizhi nodded. "Have you sold any?"

He waved in a so-and-so gesture. "Yeah, just the usual holiday kitsch and deco. I try to stock up on more exciting options when I can, but supply is always a tricky issue in this city. It's gotten a little better, but it might take a few more months for bigger shipments to come in. The ABB had a stranglehold on most of the income revenues here, so with them… scattered, we might see an upswing." He hummed noncommittally. "Guess I should be happy that kitsch still sells."

"Which one's your favorite?" Taylor asked, though she slumped when Peizhi turned to her in surprise.

"Hm, I never really thought about it… one sec." He put down his mug and left the room in a hurry. A couple of minutes later, he came back holding something in his hand and two parcels tucked beneath his arm. Curious, Wukong tilted his head but held his tongue.

"Believe it or not, but people still buy these, even if it's just for decoration," Peizhi said as he placed the item on the table, drawing the eye of the monkey and his disciple. It was a tiny metal tent, hosting tinier statues of horse-riding children under its red canopy. As he pressed a button on the side, the shopkeeper stood back and the toy suddenly lit up with beautiful lights. The horses rotated around the tent as ringing bells played a cheery tune from within the contraption.

'Oh my, how delightful!' Wukong thought as he peered closer with a smile. It was indeed a toy, but he found no shame in admiring a trinket used to entertain children. It bore no gilding or precious gems, and the metal was not a rare ore harvested from a mountain's heart. Nay, it was the equivalent of a simple puppet, sold to children during the Lantern Festival.

Yet if it brought a child happiness… then all the jade and pearls in the earth and seas would be worth it.

As Wukong kept his curious gaze on it, he heard Peizhi chuckle awkwardly again. "To be honest, I don't know why I like this one. It's kinda cheesy, and the kids around here don't care for these kinds of toys. Action figures or video games are usually the go-to choice, but I can't bring myself to drop them from the supply list. Baba always liked them, though; he used to always bring one to any holiday dinner we were invited to."

"...it's cheesy, but it's got that old-timey vibe to it," said Taylor, who also leaned in for a closer look. Wukong gingerly traced a finger along the rotating tent, feeling his tail wag like a dog's. A hardly fitting display for a monkey, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The idiots of the Court laugh at much subtler failings.

"Pray tell, how does it work? Where does the music come from?"

"You turn it on and it runs until you turn it off. The music comes from the speakers on the side," Peizhi tapped the bottom half of the toy, dotted with needlepoint holes. "I think Baba had a wind-up version stored somewhere, but the electric model's just as good."

"Electric…" the word danced his tongue and rolled over his taste buds. "I have heard that word often since coming here, but I am still unsure of its meaning. Could you elaborate, disciple?"

"Uh… it runs on electricity? You know, what lights up everything here?" He directed his full attention to her, eager to learn more. To his dismay, her jaw was one twitch away from dropping and her eyebrows were on the verge of bursting into dance. She turned to Peizhi, who bit his lip and gave her a tight smile, before turning back to him.

"Okay, how the hell do you not know-"

"Um, I'm all for a science lecture, but before you start," the shopkeeper hurriedly intervened. "I'd like to show you something else."

Wukong's curiosity rose further as Peizhi placed the two packages on the table and pushed one toward Taylor. "I know this is kind of out of left field, but it wouldn't be much of a Christmas without presents. It's not exactly glamorous, but…" he gestured to the box. With a bit of surprise on her face and a measure of tentativeness, Taylor pulled open the package to reveal a stack of thick, yellowish rice paper. "It's for calligraphy. There's an arts and crafts store two streets west of the park. They keep a small stock of calligraphy tools that the old folks like to use. I noticed that brush and inkstone you have, and I figured you'd want something to actually draw on. It's better suited for ink than regular paper."

Taylor blinked with some incredulity. "Are you… are you sure? I mean, I'm basically freeloading and we're total strangers."

"It's fine. I figured a normal celebration with your family wouldn't be feasible, and like I told you, I'm fine with you staying here." His smile was uncertain, yet contained as much warmth as he could muster. "Besides, Baba would rise from the grave and school me hard if I left a troubled kid to celebrate Christmas alone."

"...thank you," she whispered, holding back a sniffle as she closed the box. Wukong smiled warmly as she brought the gift close to her and held it tightly. She deserved a measure of happiness as much as any child, regardless of her circumstances.

"Now for you…" Peizhi turned to Wukong and huffed uneasily. "I didn't know what to get you. But I remembered that I want to keep using my phone instead of begging for it every day, so I'm sparing myself some future headaches." He pushed the box to Wukong, who eagerly tore open the cover. Inside rested a small rectangular device next to a pair of cord-tied earphones and a small cable.

"Pray tell, what is it? It bears resemblance to your 'phones', but I do not understand this wheel."

"It's a music player. It's like my phone, but it only plays music. Figured you should have one before you do anything rash. You use the wheel to scroll through the songs and press the button to pick one."

The Monkey King felt his breath taken away, the device in his hand feeling heavier all of a sudden.

"My dear friend… I cannot accept this. You already host me and my disciple under your roof and offer us your food. But to receive this gift worthy of emperors? This Old Sun is ashamed and unworthy of your kindness!" He rose and bowed deeply to his host, gratitude filling every fibre of his stony being.

"Whoa whoa whoa, it's fine! It's fine!" he exclaimed, waving his arms. "Just be careful when using it, I'm pretty sure they weren't built to withstand Lung-level button mashing."

Wukong nodded fervently. "I shall treat it with the care reserved for the Jade Emperor's finest porcelain!" Wait, didn't he break those?

"That looks kinda expensive," Taylor noted as she peered over his shoulder, further compounding his shame.

"Well, I had some good sales…" Peizhi replied with a high-strung chuckle. His disciple flashed him a skeptical look, but didn't comment further. The two mortals then showed him how to use the device and connect the earphones, and once he placed them inside his ear, he pressed the button and his world was filled with flutes and drums.

'Such music! It's as though the forest came to life!

A few seconds later, a light-hearted male voice began to sing, and Wukong guffawed heavily.

'Oh, Peizhi-xiansheng, this Old Sun bows to your taste!'

The next hour passed in a blur as Wukong danced around the kitchen, a lineup of music playing vivaciously in his ears with the touch of a button. Oh, how he reveled and frolicked in the house, even as his dear host tried to calm him down. But he couldn't help it; what else could a monkey do but allow his body to dance to such novel tunes!

'Wherever this Be-la-fon-tay is, may Ling Lun and Di Ku bless his hands and his descendants for ten thousand lifetimes!'

But just as a new song readied itself for another bout of rapturous dancing, a tap on the shoulder drew him back to the waking world. "Hm? Is something the matter, my friend?"

"Um, Taylor left a few minutes ago. I thought she was in her room, but she's not even downstairs."

Wukong blinked and plucked the earphones out. That was unusual indeed. "She left, you say? Did she say why?"

He shook his head. "I figured she wanted to put her gift next to her bed, but I… didn't pay much attention, sorry."

Wukong nodded and stroked his chin. "I see. Well, this Old Sun better find her then, no?"

Stuffing his device into his ebony robes, he opened the kitchen window before Pezhi could get another word in. He jumped out the window and transformed into a swallow, flying into the chilly winter sky. Lights shone from every house, and faint laughter tickled his ears. Even against the grey clouds and bleakness of the city, the world seemed a tad brighter.

Now, in a maze of buildings such as this, finding any mortal would be difficult alone. Fortunately, Wukong was a resourceful and sagacious monkey; Taylor's scent and her apparition's warped visage were well-known to him by now, and after a quick flight at swallow's speed, he spotted the girl running through the streets with her hood drawn over her head, avoiding the main roads.

Now, what could she possibly be doing? He had half a mind to swoop down and inquire, but his spirit of inquiry demanded he shadow her first. So that's what he did. A few minutes later, rows of familiar houses appeared on the street, and Wukong knew exactly where his wayward apprentice was headed.

Hmph, I should have expected this. The ladle of remembrance does not sieve the good and ill from the sea of the mind. He flew to another rooftop, transformed back into his normal self, and plucked a hair from his head. Upon blowing on it, a clone appeared before him in a flash of light, robes and tail swishing in the wind.

"Would you kindly scout ahead and remove potential disturbances to my disciple's spontaneous journey, my extraordinarily handsome friend? This Old Sun would rather spare her from further distress on this day of merriment."

The clone clapped his hands with a cackle and leaped away. The moment he vanished beyond the skyline, Wukong turned into a swallow again and caught up to Taylor, who had slowed down and proceeded with a cautious gait. He reminded himself to bestow her lessons on discretion; she appeared more like a lurking guai searching for a meal than an innocent girl!

He was broken from his thoughts when even more familiar houses showed up on the road. Up ahead, a howl reached his ears and he saw a silhouette carrying something large and black over its shoulder as it disappeared into the neighborhood. Hm, perhaps he should've asked for a lighter hand?

Bah, it was their folly that they chose to lie in wait for my disciple.

One stretch of the road later, Wukong saw the girl running towards her house. It was as gloomy and miserable as the last time he visited, if not more so. The grass around the house had grown thick as a beard and sported weeds. A small pile of letters lay on the porch, which creaked with every trembling step Taylor took.

Landing on the wooden platform, Wukong chirped loudly, drawing her attention. After a moment of staring, she gave him a sardonic smile. She then took a deep breath and knocked on the door thrice.

The only reply was silence.

Three more times she knocked thrice, and the response was no different than before. A pained look crossed her face before she shook her head and reached for the woven mat in front of the door.

A key? Ah, clever.

The house was empty as before - nay, it bore some semblance of life last time. Now it reminded Wukong of the many abandoned huts and manses along the road to India. Not ransacked or pillaged, but discarded, bearing ghosts of a life once lived. Sometimes literally. The House of Hebert had bare traces of life - his nose could tell that much, even as a swallow - but it was clear no one had been here for days.

A despondent Taylor wandered the house, searching aimlessly. Wukong followed her up to her room, where the bed was made perfectly and the desk was covered in dust. After staring at it for some time, her fists clenching back and forth, she took a piece of paper and a pen from her desk drawer and began writing. The words did not flow without pain, and more than once, a sob leaked from her hunched form, and the writing tool threatened to snap in her grip. But in the end, she put down the pen and carried the newly-written missive to the living room, where she laid it upon the table.

Wukong flew over and thought of looking at the paper… but it was not his place. Whatever words she left for her father, they were hers and hers alone.

And so as the girl hurried back into the labyrinth of cracked roads, grey walls, and festive cheer, Wukong mused over her actions. This was clearly a deeply personal matter with her father and he understood her not telling him… but to hurry out without even telling his host?

'Stubborn as the pillars of the universe, that girl. Heh, she would've snuck off even if I'd stopped her. Yet I must acknowledge that she cannot venture into dangerous waters in her current budding state. The novelty of constant rescue has worn itself out long ago for this stone monkey. Perhaps some discipline is in order…hmm, I was considering introducing the basics of combat in our next session. I wonder if she'll enjoy the Ordeal of the Scorching Foot as much as I did?'

Chapter Text

Now we were speaking of the Handsome Monkey King's triumphant return to his home country. After slaying the Monstrous King of Havoc and wresting from him his huge scimitar, he practiced daily with the little monkeys the art of war, teaching them how to sharpen bamboos for making spears, file wood for making swords, arrange flags and banners, go on patrol, advance or retreat, and pitch camp. For a long time he played thus with them. Suddenly, he grew quiet and sat down, thinking out loud to himself, "The game we are playing here may turn out to be something quite serious. Suppose we disturb the rulers of humans or of fowls and beasts, and they become offended; suppose they say that these military exercises of ours are subversive, and raise an army to destroy us. How can we meet them with our bamboo spears and wooden swords? We must have sharp swords and fine halberds. But what can be done at this moment?" When the monkeys heard this, they were all alarmed. "The great king's observation is very sound," they said, "but where can we obtain these things?"

-Journey to the West, chapter 3

As surprising as it was for some to hear, Sun Wukong was no stranger to teaching. Shortly after he was crowned the Monkey King by the simians of Flower-Fruit Mountain, many of them came to him in the hopes of learning some of his greatness. Naturally, he always obliged; he could never refuse his delightful subjects. When he trained under the venerable Master Subodhi in the Cave of the Slanted Moon and Three Stars, he gained a new appreciation for the role of the educator. His old master managed many disciples, not all of equal rank and skill - especially when compared to him - but held them all to the same standards. Even through the menial labour, the endless repetition, and the absolute perfection Master Subodhi demanded of him, Wukong held nothing but respect for his teacher, even after he was told to leave. A healthy dose of fear, too, but may the heavens turn him into a brothel dancer before he admits it. He still had nightmares of the old sage coming to whack him ten thousand times on his red arse for telling others he was his student.

It wasn't his fault that the 72 Transformations weren't exactly common poems sung by street bards! Where else could he have learned them? Denying it further would only prove foolish.

Combined with his experiences under Master Tang and his fellow pilgrims, Wukong gained a profound understanding of why the role of the teacher was so revered. The honor and duty of passing down knowledge taught since ancient days, the joy of watching your disciples slowly finding their path, and their wide eyes of delight at pulling a trick they never knew about were only a few treasured examples.

But above all those reasons and duties, one stood atop the mountain:

'I now understand why guilty pleasure is a teacher's privilege!'

"Recover and strike, disciple! An enemy will give you no pause to breathe, and neither should you! Press onward!"

The reply to his pearl of wisdom was a pointed glare and a flaring of nostrils. After inhaling, Taylor resumed punching the wooden dummy before her. His own creation, made from his hair. Her mortal fists pounded the sacks of rice he had… borrowed from a local vendor, and her focused gaze returned, overshadowing her irritation.

And right as her punches settled into a rhythm…

The dummy snapped forward and struck her in the face. She fell back with a pained yelp, clutching her forehead and rubbing the small bruise. A hiss crept from her lips as the irritation returned twicefold, as it did throughout the day.

Naturally, he ensured his giggle was loud and clear.

"Remind me again why you rigged the dummy like this?" she grumbled, picking herself up.

"A real opponent is flesh and desperation, dear girl! Not an immobile hunk of wood that accepts your blows! Foes react and counter, and you must adjust the moment they do!"

"...I still don't like this thing," she replied and pointed at the wooden device. In addition to the tied-up rice sacks, sets of stubs jutted from its back. If one were to look closer at its base, they'd spot that it was resting on a wooden sphere rather than a flat surface.

"Whether you like it or not is immaterial. I admit, it pales in comparison to the more complex mechanisms my Master Subodhi kept in his palace, but I know this one's workings well enough to replicate it. I used to train my subjects with devices such as these for years, and they all turned out fine warriors, so you have no excuse." Wukong leaned backward, crossing his arms as he observed her from atop the westward crate. "Now, repeat! And add some kicks!"

Holding back what he was sure was a curse, despite the brief mollification on her face, Taylor followed his instructions and resumed punishing the apparatus. In the meantime, Wukong nibbled another nacho from his bag and stared at the music player in his hand. Indeed, a gift beyond measure from his generous host and he had enjoyed its musical fruits for days on end. Yet it was not the harsh strumming of strings or thunderous beating of drums that garnered his attention, but rather the glowing blue screen.

"The 'electricity' is contained fully within the device, yes?"

"It comes from the battery inside, yeah," she replied as she kept punching. "It travels through paths in the circuit board into the chip." The dummy shuddered under her kick.

Wukong nodded and looked at the small pile of scrap next to him. It was a collection amassed from the dumpsters and cast-offs that littered the Trainyard, given a newfound educational purpose. On top lay a faded green card inscribed with copper lines, flowing to an empty square spot near the middle. It reminded him of the old bagua formations Venerable Laozi kept experimenting with in his lab, only far more simplified and no hint of ink.

"And when I press the button, a pulse of electricity is sent to this chip?" He asked and pressed a button to open the menu. The novelty of the action never faded, and Peizhi-xiansheng had to coax him from constantly pressing it, lest it break. "And how does it work with our dear host's device? He only presses a glass screen."

"Pretty much, and…" Taylor's face scrunched up in thought. "I'm not sure. I think the screen has tiny sensors that can pick up if someone presses it, and they're connected to the chip…"

Rice shuddered under her blow, after which she shook her hand.

"Sorry, I never studied it that much."

"Fascination to no end," murmured Wukong, another nugget of insight deposited within his mind. So many new terms and concepts that no mortal alchemist or scholar he knew could conjure up, and not even many immortal ones. "This Old Sun has a great deal to learn - focus on the sides, not just the front. Wings out."

His disciple narrowed her eyes and, after summoning her golden wings, shifted her stance, trying new blows and attacks while staying light on her feet. Allowing himself a smile of satisfaction, Wukong returned to his musing and picked out two frayed wires from the pile. Its colored casing had grown stained and withered to near nonexistence, but the faint gleam of copper was still visible.

'Copper pots cook faster and trap heat for longer. The same principle seems to apply for electricity.' He brushed his fingers against the wire. 'Specks of charged matter moving around the wire, traveling at divine speeds. Piecemeal fragments of creation, harnessed not from arrays and sorcery but from pure understanding of nature. Lightning stripped down to its purest and basest form. Heh, I suppose when one cannot grasp the higher mysteries of the realms beyond, they instead gaze upon the reality of the earthbound and lay it bare.'

As an enlightened being, Wukong was very much aware that the material world worked through forces unseen by most. It was part of his instruction and a key component of learning the Dao: to listen and feel the changes of the world. But his foundations were based upon abstract conceptualization and the mechanisms of the heavens. While he had a decent grasp of the more physical aspects of cultivation and the Dao, he never once had thought of delving into the whys and hows of it.

It was… humbling, in a way. 'And under my nose this whole time. I never bothered to observe, and why would I? When the power of qi, magic, and the heavens are at your fingertips, you need not concern yourself with the workings of the lower realms.' He glanced at a streetlight on the edge of the makeshift training yard. With his sharp ears and Golden Eyes, he honed in on the object and listened to its resonant hum. Fireflies trapped in glass cages, he once thought, but what a fool he was. Flickering specks, spiralling around cords of metal, up and down their destined path. Electrons, he remembered Taylor calling them, particles revolving around a unit of mass so small even his Golden Eyes couldn't perceive them, called atoms. Nature's essence in its smallest form, wrenched from the order of the cosmos through nothing more than understanding and clockwork precision, and used to engineer devices ranging from a simple lamp to his wondrous music box.

'I will know more. Nay, I must know more. When the gods and demons turn their noses up at the lesser beings, I shall learn from them and cackle at their awe and despair.'

"Gah! Fucking-stupid wooden-ah!"

Understandable. "Carry on. This time, apply my other lesson. Do you recall the Ordeal of Fleeting Impressions?"

"You mean when you turned your hair into basketballs and threw them at me like a pitching machine?" she deadpanned as she rose, the fall dispelling her wings. "Or was it the time you made me jump from side to side, and if I stopped, you'd smack me with your tail?"

"Do you desire a refresher?" he asked in his most innocent tone. "I have this exciting new technique I learned from observing some of those ruffians -"

"Ah, no! No, it's fine." She hurriedly exclaimed with widened eyes. "I just don't know what else to do. You didn't place a timer or anything on this thing, and I can't react fast enough to it."

"That is precisely the point, dear girl!" He raised his finger high. "If you cannot predict the unpredictable, you must brace for it! Most times, foreknowledge of your foes will only reveal itself throughout the fight and not before. Match them not with a defence or offense beyond your grasp, but with their own actions! Push them aside, force them to exhaust their strength if need be, and when their guard is down-" He punched the air with a single, unwavering motion. "End it."

Taylor's frustrated rictus slowly dulled as he spoke, then she turned to the dummy with hesitance. Wukong smiled, though not out of malice; her fear was natural. A lesson rarely sinks in the first time it is taught. Before he could throw in a few supportive words, she steeled herself, stepped forward, and renewed her assault. Wings flaring behind her once more, they hummed with every flow of her limbs. Her attacks were methodical but relentless, her pace increasing steadily. Wood buckled under her blows, but remained ever-steadfast.

The dummy tilted back, the barest crawl of a pinky, flew forward -

-and flew to the side, courtesy of Taylor's crossed arms. She then spun in place, using the wings to slash at the dummy fourfold. It tilted back, creaking loudly before snapping into place with a wobble.

"Much better," Wukong said, his smile breaking into a full grin. He leaped from the crate and walked over to Taylor. "May I?" he asked with outstretched arms. Taylor blinked in surprise, but then quickly nodded. "Adjust your arms so they do not lock in immediately, but slide for a bit." He grabbed her arms and positioned them as he said. "Spread out your palms to catch the incoming blows." He pushed her fingers apart and then lightly pushed her legs. "And your knees must become the bamboo stalk; flexible yet implacable. This will direct your opponent's momentum into the ether instead of entirely into your body." Finally, he stood behind her and pulled back her elbows. "Once a foe is trapped by his body's impulses, the opportunity to strike will reveal itself."

Bafflement never left his dear disciple, but understanding slowly dawned above her cliffs of ignorance.

"Are you ready to try again?"

"Yeah… I think I am," she replied. Wukong smiled and, with a wave of his hand, the dummy began to bob back and forth.

"Catch and parry, O disciple. Let the stream flow around you. Oh, and do not neglect your qi; keep its flow slow and steady."

Taylor nodded and began reacting to her opponent, slowly improving with every hit and miss. As she swatted and palmed the dummy, Wukong fixed his Golden Eyes on her wings. Qi flowed from their tips into her body, sending out brilliant pulses in the hidden realm. Her apparition hovered above her, shifting with every pulse of qi. Its form had not taken on anything beyond the barest resemblance of an insect, and Wukong couldn't help but frown internally. The apparitions were still a quandary he had yet to solve, and he lacked the means to do so in-depth. Direct observation of the one before him was much more promising than spying on others from afar, though the one belonging to the bandit with the thunder-weapon - no, the gun - was peculiar. Long, thin arms with needles thinner than hair strands, it was quite intriguing. The spirit had actually stung him in combat, though he felt only a minor discomfort. A draining power, perhaps?

'Eh, irrelevant for now. If that was the extent of his abilities, Taylor should have no issue dealing with him.'

The dummy's speed began to increase, and with it, Taylor's deflection grew harsher and fiercer. Qi rapidly circulated in her body as her wings drew more and more of the quintessential force in, along with the ritten, vile cloud -

"Cease!"

Taylor froze as Wukong grasped her arm and halted the dummy with the other. Her breath came out lurching, and Wukong sighed in relief as the foul qi circled them but never touched Taylor's golden wings.

"Disciple, have you been practicing qi circulation without my knowledge?"

Taylor ducked her head, but steadfastness remained even in her diminished glare. Wukong tutted and let her arm go.

"A master only walks across water when he knows he will not sink. I know you are eager to progress, disciple, but you cannot allow that desire to blind you to the consequences of rushing through the practice."

"But I feel it all the time now!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms. Her wings shuddered with her words. "Every time I punch or do anything, I feel it around my skin. If I lose focus, it goes away. I'm never gonna be able to beat the Empire if I stay at this level."

"Already taking on my quest with gusto?" Wukong chuckled. "Admirable, but you will do little good if you charge headfirst into the snake's den while poison runs through your veins. It's unfortunate, but you must take care to regulate your circulation. I doubt you wish to succumb to another attack."

She shivered at the reminder, but maintained her frustrated stance as she kicked a stray pebble and her wings dissipated into golden leaves. "I'm just tired of sitting back and doing nothing. I've got powers and you're training me, and I know I can't fight for shit right now…" She sighed and brushed back her hair. "It's driving me kinda insane."

"When you encounter a real enemy, you will peer through the fog of memories and wish to return to these simpler times. Dump your insanity in the sanctity of the training yard and reserve a cool head for battle, for the world is not so forgiving in such circumstances."

His disciple exhaled again and sent him a pointed side-glare. "I like riddles and similes, but you lay it on way too thick at times."

"How else would you learn such valuable lessons?" he retorted. Riddles and proverbs were essential to any foundational education, and may King Yama trap him in the 18 Hells before a disciple of his failed to answer a riddle!

Wukong stepped back and let the dummy sway. "Again, no wings. Parry with your feet as well, and focus only on the half so the rest may act."

Her shoulders slumped as the yoke of tiredness weighed upon her, but nonetheless, she returned to her practice with fierce abandon while he hopped back on the crate. An hour or so later, when the winter sun had begun to set, Wukong was scrolling through the assortment of songs Peizhi had prepared for him when he took notice of the time.

'Already?' he thought with alarmed eyes widening. 'Old Sun, you must whack your awareness back into shape!'

"Disciple!" he called out, leaping in front of her. "We are done for today. Gather your things so we may leave posthaste!"

Taylor blinked and glanced at him inquisitively, but donned her jacket without complaint. Once her water bottle was back in her hand, Wukong snatched her up and they leaped right back to Peizhi's shop. Once there, though, he only dropped her off at the doorstep rather than going inside.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"An urgent appointment!" he replied and jumped to the rooftops. He hopped across buildings, cursing his ignorant self for not noticing the time. A few jumps later though, he landed right atop a streetlamp, gazing at the Willow Tree Park.

Peizhi and Taylor had told him its official name, but he didn't care. He named it Willow Tree Park, and so it was.

'This Old Sun is not too late, thank Amitabha,' he thought as he stared at the mortals lounging around, even under the cloak of the winter evening. 'They should be here any minute now.' Now, this would normally be a moment where he would devote his complete attention, but alas, for all his wisdom and keenness, Sun Wukong was still a monkey, and such creatures get distracted by the most minute of things. Case in point, he looked down at the streetlamp he was perched on and listened to the humming of electricity. Bending down and using his tail to ensure his footing, he felt it rushing underneath the flaked metal, in and out of the lightbulb.

'The current and power are far stronger than the music player. This much power, cycling through a simple lamp…far weaker than a lightning bolt, but nothing to scoff at; a current this strong can kill a mortal several times over if exposed, and I've witnessed enough of them struck by the heavens to know. Yet, for all its marvel, this is still energy.' His hold clenched and he reached out with his senses. 'Lightning is beyond my skillset to produce, but I have guided flames. I wonder…'

Wukong felt his qi flow from his palms and into the lamp. The rush of the lightning current seemed to thrum in his palms, despite touching only metal. With gentle care, he slowly began to coax it; an ebb here, a wave there. Nothing too strong, but just enough to grasp and pull.

'Oh, how exciting for this Old Sun!'

He reached out again, the metal creaking under his hold, going for one more pull -

"Wukong! Guys, it's Wukong, he's up there!"

The excited voice broke his concentration and the lightning slipped past his ethereal fingers. After blinking, he looked down and smiled at the sight of young Thao pointing upwards, drawing his favorite gaggle of children around him, all bundled up in winter clothes and jackets. With additional company as well!

"Hello and a fond evening to you, dear children!" he exclaimed and jumped down before the willow tree. The moment his feet touched the grass, the children rushed toward him with wide, happy smiles.

"Did you really fight the Nazis?" asked Thao. "I saw it on Mom's phone! She tried to hide it, but it was so cool!"

"Yeah! You whacked 'em and whacked 'em like-" Rin mimed a staff over his friend's head. "And there were those ghosts, they were everywhere-"

Mei, adorned with a woolen cap that smothered her twin-tails, shoved her brother aside and stared at him with starry eyes. "How did you summon those clones? I thought your staff was your power!"

"It was like the stories Nana told me," fair Bǎihé uttered softly. Her blue earmuffs gave the impression of hair buns. "I was scared when they s-stabbed you, but it didn't work and you kicked the bag guy's b-butt."

Thao mock-gasped and pointed at the girl. "Rin! She said butt!"

"Girls can say things like kicking butt too!" Mei argued, almost shoving her face into her brother's. "She can probably kick your butt!"

"She's got a point," said Rin with a toothy grin. "Remember when you wanted to watch Ward Adventures and fought you for the remote? You were all-"

"I had something in my eye!" Thao yelled, red-faced. Mei gave a triumphant look and the other children giggled.

"Are you a hero, Mr. Wukong? Did the cape hurt you?" asked a child from the back. There were a small handful of new faces, effectively doubling the young retinue's usual crowd. They all bore the same cautious and excited look he'd seen on Thao before their little game of ball. No doubt their parents had cautioned them against approaching him.

"Well, this Old Sun has certainly been called a hero many times in his past, and I will say that ruffians have the most unfortunate luck of crossing my path, but such is their karma for their misdeeds, which I am only too happy to deliver." He bowed with a hand over his chest and fluttered his robes dramatically, causing their gold linings to glint against the manmade light. "As for my health, do not worry your young minds, dear children. This Old Sun did not face the Heavens just to fall to some armored thug with cheap tricks. Why, I merely toyed with him until my Rising Bamboo technique struck him where every man hurts!"

A wave of giggles erupted from the youths, though he caught Rin and another boy crossing their legs at the reminder of the, ahem, injury he'd inflicted on Crusader.

"But remember, children! All's fair in war, but friends should preserve each other's dignity!" He sent a pointed but amused glare at Mei, who blushed at the apparent calling-out. 'Ah, so she'd planned something similar against her dear brother?'

"But for Nazis it's good, right?"

He perked up at the familiar voice and snapped his gaze to the park. His smile grew wider as he waved the newcomer over. "Why, greetings and blessings to you, dear Missy! What brings you under the willow tree in this fair corner of the city?"

"I was looking for some food when I saw you show up," the straw-haired girl replied as she walked over, drawing the attention of the other children.

"'Tis always important to remember your meals. Did any dish hook your nose yet?"

She shrugged, crinkling her dark-green jacket. "No, but I was thinking of some dumplings. There's a great place down the street that makes them, and they also sell pork buns."

"Oh, sounds lovely! I admit, meat is not my preferred dish, but I cannot deny the appeal of piping hot baozi with steamed vegetables!" He licked his lips as memories of campfires began to swim before him. 'Oh, the treasures of Heaven for a dish of Wujing's baozi…'

"Who are you?" asked Thao, narrowing his eyes at her. Rin crossed his arms and puffed out his chest, while Baihe and Mei glared at the boys for their rudeness.

"How rude of me!" Wukong exclaimed and gestured to the girl. "Children, this is my friend Missy. Missy, these dear children are my friends and game partners."

"How do you know him?" asked Mei, a great deal more polite than her brother. "I've never seen you around when he comes here."

"We met at a bookstore," Missy replied. "He asked me to recommend him some, but he ran off before I could show him." She crossed her arms and looked at him sternly. "For a hero, that was really rude, y'know?"

Wukong chuckled and rubbed the back of his mane. "Yes, that was rather rude of me." He pinned his arms to the sides and bowed low from his waist. "This Old Sun deeply apologizes for his behavior. Alas, an urgent matter had come up which I couldn't ignore. I would not have left such a riveting conversation otherwise. I beg your forgiveness."

"Yeah, I heard. It was all over the internet. My…friends couldn't shut up about it." A shadow passed over her face, but left as quickly as it came. "I knew Shadow Stalker was shady for a Ward, but I didn't think she'd go so low as to bully someone. Is the other girl okay?"

Wukong smiled, touched at her concern. "Put your mind at ease, dear Missy. The girl you speak of is in full health, I can personally attest to that. Her trust, however, is another matter, and hers alone."

"I can't believe a hero did that," Bǎihé whispered, clutching at her coat. "Mom didn't let me see it, but everyone said it was really scary. But why?"

Wukong sighed in dismay. He would've preferred to avoid such topics, but alas, life was never so kind. "Unfortunately, one who sits atop a throne may become so allured by the sky, they forget the earth below their feet. Shadow Stalker, as you call her, had grown drunk on the wine of power and believed it gave her the authority to tread on those she deemed lesser. The girl might not have even been the first to suffer her attention."

"B-but heroes can't be bad!" a boy cried out, wincing at the sudden attention. "M-maybe she did something wrong, but that doesn't mean she's all bad!"

"Heroes are as human as you or your friends," Wukong replied with a firm yet gentle tone. "And humans can be disposed toward good or evil, regardless of whether they have powers or not. But do not blame power, dear children, for it is akin to blaming a hammer; it can be both a weapon and a tool. The only thing that matters is the hands that wield them."

Thao and his friends let out a collective 'oh' at his nugget of wisdom, Amitabha bless them. Missy stared at them with similar amusement, though he didn't miss the way her eyes flickered to him.

"Well, enough sage wisdom!" Wukong clapped, breaking the contemplative silence. "I believe we are all here for something far more cheerful! Can anyone tell me what?"

"Ooh! Story, story!" exclaimed Thao and Rin simultaneously. "What are you gonna tell us this time? Is it another wolf? A new monster?"

Wukong couldn't help but laugh merrily at their pure enthusiasm. Even the new children, cautious as they were, clearly looked interested. "Patience, patience! This Old Sun has plenty of stories hidden in his robes, do not fret!"

"So you really tell stories?" asked Missy. "What kind?"

Gesturing to the ground before them, Wukong gave her his most inviting smile. "Why don't you come and join us? All will be revealed then."

Missy hummed loudly, looking back and forth between himself and the streets, then shrugged. "Okay. Sounds kinda fun, actually." She sat herself down, and the rest of the children quickly followed. Thao and Rin took the front, as they always did. Mei and Bǎihé found themselves drawn to Missy, while the rest sat behind them. An eager crowd worth more than any Imperial court.

Wukong took a moment to savor the sight of the young ones, sitting before him and eager to learn. His monkey subjects were always thrilled to hear of his adventures, and these children were no different.

'Time to set the stage.'

He picked up a bundle of fallen willow leaves and blew on them, sending them dancing in the air with golden trails. Awed cries left the children, and Missy stared at them with her own muted wonder.

"Deep in the misty highlands, where the mountains meet the plains, there lived a widow and her daughter in a woodshed. Her husband had died moons ago in a great battle, leaving them to fend for themselves. The mother sold pancakes in the nearby village, leaving the girl to the responsibilities of the household. She cooked meals, fed their sole chicken, ground grain and gathered firewood. They still clung to hope for a better future, though dark days would come."

He exhaled and from his mouth, mist streamed out and surrounded them. Bǎihé and another girl flinched at the sight of his magic, but the others gasped in amazement.

"Ceaseless rains had worn their humble wooden shack, long neglected despite the daughter's meagre efforts. The father was no longer around to fix and teach, and they were worried for their home. They were right to do so, for after a particularly rainy night, the ceiling beams rotted through and their roof caved in." He smacked his palms together and hissed through his teeth, causing the audience to gasp. "They were left homeless, surviving only thanks to the mercy of the nearby village."

Mei began to frown, and Wukong snatched another leaf from the ground. "One day, when the daughter searched through the ruins of her home, she spotted a beautiful mushroom, vibrant and capped with dew like a shining porcelain bowl." He blew on the leaf and it transformed into a pure red mushroom, with a cap that almost covered his hand. Sheer surprise overcame the group and they all leaned in to look closer, save Missy, who stared at the mushroom with wariness.

"She could not bear to pluck such a precious plant, so she sheltered it with straw and tended to it daily. Her mother had returned to making pancakes for their livelihood, but she required the daughter's help more than ever, leaving her no time for friends or play. So all of her secrets, her dreams and fears, she whispered to her mushroom under its little straw hut."

He laid the mushroom down with careful hands and gathered earth around it so it would not fall, enchanting the crowd with every motion.

"Alas, as weeks passed, the widow's health had taken a turn for the worse. She needed money for medicine, and time was running out. She summoned her daughter, and with heavy hearts, they decided to sell what remained of their house, hoping that whatever meagre price they would receive would be enough. Fortunately, a wealthy neighbor, who a friend of the deceased husband, offered to buy the house. However, his wealth had turned him stingy and he tried to exploit the widow's illness to lower the price. He spread lies and falsehoods about the women, scaring away potential buyers and harassing them. The grief and anxiety drove the daughter to hide in the woodshed and cry, spilling her heart and soul to the mushroom."

Missy's fists clenched at her side and Wukong held back a smile. Yes, she would feel strongly about it considering her earlier words.

"Yet days later, something strange occurred at the greedy neighbor's house. Overnight, mushrooms had sprouted all over the walls and floors with no apparent reason. He was most dismayed to see his precious home defiled by the lowly plants!"

He blew on the mushroom again and it sprouted into a three-capped mushroom and clapped his cheeks in faux-despair, eliciting more giggles.

"When he ordered his servants to clear them away, they discovered a large, eerie mushroom clinging to the main beam of the house, neither green nor yellow, reaching over a chi in height!" Wukong lifted his hand high up and their eyes followed. "When they tried to cut it down with sharp sickles, the mushroom rose into the air, opened its cap, and floated above them like a paper lantern!"

More leaves danced above, and Rin tried to catch one in his hands, only for it to slip away.

"Once it hovered above the greedy neighbor, it shook itself in the air and fell upon his head," he smacked his fist again. "Crushing him on the spot!" They gasped again and he continued. "From the mushroom, countless spores filled the air and knocked the servants down to the ground, sending them fast asleep."

He tapped the mushroom and faint dust popped from it. Thao scooted back while Bǎihé clung to Mei.

"Then, to everyone's surprise, the mushroom began to crawl out of the ground, sprouting gangly limbs. The mother and daughter froze when they approached, but instead of attacking, the newborn guai directed them to their house. There, the mushroom bloomed under straw still gleaming with dew. The guai helped the two women pack their scant belongings and left the village, disappearing into the mountains in search of a better life, never to be seen again."

Taking a deep breath, the storytelling monkey sat down cross-legged and raised a clawed finger. "So do not demean or insult your neighbors, no matter how ragged or rich they are. You know nothing of them and the hardships they face. If their ire is directed at you, then always keep a good mushroom near you."

The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter, all traces of hesitation erased. Wukong dipped his head over and over as they heaped their praises unto him, enjoying every peal of joy that rang in his ears.

"Okay, that was impressive. No, that was amazing!" exclaimed Missy, sporting a huge grin. "You can do that with your powers? But how?"

Wukong scoffed and waved his hand. "Twas nothing impressive. Mere parlor tricks I picked up. Not much useful in combat, but very entertaining, wouldn't you agree?"

"Heck yeah! Wow, you'll put every school reading time out of business if you keep this up."

"When one has traveled beyond the seas and across the earth, it would do well for him to never forget such tales, so he must recite them until they appear before him with every word."

The children began peppering him with questions, asking about the monsters and wanting to see the mushroom again. But as Wukong began to answer, a sharp movement caught his eye from the edge of the park. He gazed at the small line of concerned adults, who held phones or stared with worry, going down the line until he came upon a rather nervous-looking man with rural features. A scarf was wrapped around his neck and a heavy brown coat settled on his shoulders. When their eyes met, the man's countenance widened and nearly jumped out of his clothes before running away.

Not an unfamiliar reaction to the Monkey King. But while others in this city merely shied away, greeted, or attacked him, he hadn't had anyone actually run for the hills. He reasoned it had to happen at some point…

'But why does it feel like I've seen that terror before?'

Perhaps on the faces of the ABB criminals? 'Could he be an agent, reporting to his masters of my whereabouts? Hmph, if they try to harm these children to get to me, I shall deliver unto them a punishment worthy of the 18 Hells!'

But there was something… not fond per say, but knowing about the man's gait and shock. For the life of him, he couldn't tell what it was.

"So, uh, Mr. Wukong?" he blinked and saw Missy standing before him, confused. "You good?"

He smiled and rose from his seated position, gently prying a child's hand off his robe. "Just lost in memories, my dear. So, I take it you will join us again for the next telling?"

"If you can keep telling more stories like that? Da-er, darn straight I will!" she replied, covering up her swearing as Mei sharply turned to her. "I think I now owe you a year's worth of book reports. My friends are gonna drill me to the ends of the earth when they see the ten A's I'm gonna get."

Book report? "Ah, the study of literature! This Old Sun is honored you would consider his humble tales worthy of literary study! If you come by again, then I shall grace your ears with stories unheard by mortal ears!"

She whistled and crossed her arms. "Wow, you go all in on the cosplay, don't you? You must've aced all your drama classes. But yeah, you can count me in for storytime."

"Cosplay? I've heard that word several times now, but what does it mean?" Wukong asked curiously.

"Uh, what you're doing right now? Playing dress-up and acting out lines based on someone or something?"

"I shall take that as a compliment! I have played many roles and worn many different faces, all of them fooling even the sharpest eyes! But know that this Old Sun before you fakes nothing! The monkey you see is as genuine as the moon and stars on a clear night!"

Missy rolled her eyes, but her smile never dropped. Then her eyes widened and she reached inside her coat pocket. "Oh, that reminds me!"

She pulled out a folded note and handed it to him. Opening it, he saw a list of names.

"When I saw the news report, I felt kinda bad for getting angry at you, so I wrote down all the recommendations I wanted to give you, even ones I saw you dig out but you just dropped. They're all stocked in that bookstore, so if you want to buy them or go to the library, it shouldn't be a problem. We can even go back to that old bookstore and read some of the stuff together. I talked to the owner and he seems pretty chill about the whole thing."

A library? In the city? Oh, wondrous news! The last library he'd visited had kicked him out! How was he supposed to know those scrolls were silk?

He read the note, taking note of the names. Indeed, they were all fascinating titles, though he knew not to judge them solely on that merit. His fingers brushed over another name and he paused, reading it in its entirety. It was written in messy, tiny Hanyu, with a small note in English next to it.

西遊記. Journey to the West. The bookshop's owner helped me translate the title, just in case.

…how odd.

Stuffing the note in his robes, he bowed again to Missy, this time out of pure gratitude. "This Old Sun thanks you again my dear, and shall endeavor to repay your mercy and kindness tenfold!"

"Um, thanks! You don't need to bow!" she stammered, shooting glares at the giggling children behind her. But Old Sun didn't listen, excited at the thought of learning more books and sharing his findings with his disciple, who was bound to know more about these tales of her homeland.

What a fun day this had shaped up to be! Brockton Bay, you hide true treasures beneath your mired skin, and this Old Sun shall learn them all!

"Are you certain of this information?"

"My sources are rather thorough. Provide me with an email address and I'll send everything over."

"Forgive me if I don't immediately consider your generous assistance."

"Is not believing in 'the cause' and wanting to assure the prosperity of my city a good enough reason?"

"Not when done with such anonymity and accosting one of my men."

"Apologies, but you don't exactly have a direct line and this information has to be heard by you alone. The courier did his job well enough."

"You are treading on thin ice. You've given me no reason to believe the credibility of what you're offering. I risk losing even more than what I have."

"Do you not wish to act even if there's a small chance that it's true? Two of your best men were humiliated in public, with one sitting bound in a padded cell. The rivals you thought vanquished are still scurrying around, not knowing their time has ended. I dare say you have very little to lose before you find yourself ousted. I'm giving you a chance to end those problems here and now, if not gain further insight on when and where to strike, considering your remaining eyes and ears have fled the district."

"...what is your price?"

"Nothing but a guarantee that if you choose to act on this information, you do it with extreme prejudice. The distraction will already be prepared for you courtesy of the other wronged party. Consider it a donation from a concerned citizen, if nothing else."

"...you better hope we never meet face-to-face. I've killed for far less disrespect than your jibes, and I do not appreciate such veiled insults."

"Then I shall send it to your address and retreat into the comforts of my home, where we hopefully shall never meet again. Once again, I thank your efforts to cleanse the city and establish order. With luck, both of your eyesores will disappear and things will only improve."

"Hmph. On that, we can agree."

Chapter Text

The bright white moon shines from the window upon the south corner of my room.

The crisp autumn wind hails the season's arrival; the hot wet summer ends.

The cold wind rises, only then do I realize the thinness of my summer clothes.

It is not that I have no thick blankets — only that there is no one by my side to endure the cold together.

In this cold season there is no one by my side, and yet the moon still hangs in the sky, bright and blurry.

Awaking from my restless sleep I gaze at the pillow, the blankets, the emptiness of the mattress.

On the empty bed there is only dust; in the vacant room there are only sorrowful winds.

Would that I had the power to bring back her spirit, to even get a fleeting glimpse of her again.

I sigh and smooth my collar, my clothes wet with silent tears.

How can the tears stop? Unrestrained grief wells up from within me.

On the bed I still see her shape, in my ears I still hear her voice.

I shame the memory of Dongmen Wu and Zhuangzi, they who could see peace in death.

I write my anguish into words, and yet nothing I compose can express it enough.

Against the implacable will of fate, I am left to grieve as a common man.

-Three Poems Lamenting Her Death, 2nd poem, Pan Yue, Jin dynasty. Translated from Chinese by TrajectoryAgreement

Danny Hebert knew he had a temper. It was a sad inheritance from his bastard of a father, and he'd done his best to rein it in once Annette helped him truly start his life. That restraint had proven itself when he became the Dockworkers' Union representative for one of the roughest cities on the East Coast. When your union's main source of income was on the verge of dying, you needed a frankly unhealthy amount of patience to deal with the vultures who tried to snatch what little your friends had left.

On the flip side, there were times when he was glad to have it. The more cutthroat businessmen and criminal elements of Brockton Bay rarely took 'no' for an answer, and when they came knocking with veiled threats and knives in their pockets, he wasn't ashamed to say his rage had left them scurrying away.

"I'm telling you, I don't care if they're in a meeting!" he slammed his hands on the desk and leaned into the secretary's face, who did her best to pull back while clawing at her desk. "I've cooperated and helped however I could, but this has gone far enough! I won't be jerked around like this anymore!"

The secretary swallowed and adjusted her collar. "Mr. Hebert, we understand your frustration, and the PRT's using every resource at their disposal-"

"'Every resource at their disposal'? Don't make me laugh!" he almost snarled. "If these are the results all those 'resources' can produce, I'm surprised the gangs haven't taken over the city years ago!" His nails dug into the polished wood, and he felt blood rush up and down his neck. "I'll give you one chance to open that door, or I'll kick it down myself."

She paled and he tried hard to ignore the flush of shame in his cheeks. He knew she was just doing her job and equally helpless before the powers above her. She didn't have the same feel as the greasy reps who tried to drag the DWU down; she looked like any old office secretary, but with an extra dollar attached to her suit.

But he couldn't help it. His daughter's well-being was on the line, and this was dragging on for too long.

Thankfully for both of them, the intercom crackled to life.

"Would you kindly step away from Ms. Waller's desk, Mr. Hebert? We were just about to ask for you."

Danny's shoulders slumped in relief as the doors clicked open. Pulling away from the desk, he muttered a quick apology to the secretary and entered the room. Waiting for him were a set of faces he'd become uncomfortably familiar with during his stay under PRT custody, and he was torn between begging and tearing into their utterly neutral facades.

"Care to take a seat?" Director Piggot said, gesturing to the empty chair. Part of him wanted to say 'no' out of spite, but he relented and slowly sat himself down.

But he wouldn't let them lead. Not this time.

"I came to ask if there was any progress regarding Taylor," he said. "The liaison you put me up with didn't have much to say other than the usual."

"We promised you would be the first to know if there was an update regarding your daughter's whereabouts, Mr. Hebert." The director replied. "But so far there haven't been any-"

"Three weeks. Three whole weeks since my daughter dropped off the face of the earth," he interjected, every word hitting him in the gut. "I've done everything you've asked of me. I've told you everything about her. Every place she might go to, anyone she might know." Both of those, to his dismay, weren't extensive lists, and the few items he did know were half-formed at best. "So I have to ask…what the hell have you been doing?"

He was sure that his voice rattled the windows, but Piggot didn't even twitch.

"Mr. Hebert, we're just as frustrated as you are," Deputy Director Renick said, his voice unchanging in timbre, though Danny didn't miss how he stepped back a moment ago. "And believe us when we say that we've been searching for your daughter nonstop. We've asked citizens to keep an eye out for us, and we're tracking every camera in the city in coordination with the BBPD. All we can tell you with certainty so far is that she hasn't fallen into the hands of any of the gangs or left town."

"Small mercies," Danny shot back darkly. "But all I'm hearing is where she isn't, not where she is."

"We're exhausting every effort we have to track her, Mr. Hebert. A clue should have come up by now, yet we have nothing." Armsmaster said, standing next to Piggot with arms behind his back. "It's almost as if she's hiding from us on purpose."

If Danny's own thoughts were punches, then Armsmaster's were 12-gauge slugs at point-blank range.

It must've shown on his face, because the hero quickly dipped his head. "Apologies. I'm just as anxious to find her as you are, Mr. Hebert, and you aren't the only one who feels we're chasing ghosts. All I can give you, for now, are the facts."

"...apology accepted."

Piggot then cleared her throat. "Yes, facts are crucial at this stage, Mr. Hebert. Running purely on speculation won't help anyone in this room." She steepled her thick fingers and stared him in the eye. "Have you been able to deduce anything else from the letter we found at your home?"

The letter. God, that letter. Right after Christmas Day, no less. When the PRT gave him the scraggly piece of paper, inscribed in shaky ink, he'd held it so tightly he almost tore it in two. Hours upon hours he stared at her words, replaying them over and over. Her handwriting was shaky, and many letters had pressed-down ink points as though she was forcing herself to write them. Most of it was rambling; how she couldn't take it anymore, how horrible her school life was, and repeated apologies for worrying him and how she couldn't be with him. But it was that last line that drained the blood from his body.

I'm not going to let that happen to me anymore. I can actually do something now. I can't come back until I do.

Love, Taylor.

She sounded so…angry. In so much pain. Annette used to write little poems whenever she felt constrained, and Taylor wrote just like she did. And he couldn't help her.

"No," he muttered with a drooped head.

The worst part was…from her words, she truly didn't want to come back.

Armsmaster then continued. "We're currently performing a new pattern of search routes to try and determine her location. The Protectorate and the PRT are working in tandem around the clock to map down possible locations and paths. Once our request for additional surveillance comes through, we'll have the entire city under watch. We'll return your daughter to you, we swear it."

God, how he wanted to be reassured by the hero's words.

"But there's a problem, isn't there?" he asked wearily, addressing the director. "Please don't drag my tail, ma'am. I've worked in this city for almost my entire life; I know the figures and charts that the news anchors love rattling off on TV and in the papers. Better yet, I know what people whisper in bars, the stories left unsaid in the news. I've attended enough Union meetings and realized what some empty chairs at the table meant."

It used to be far worse when both the E88 and the ABB came en masse and unimpeded, before the authorities could devise proper responses. His friends often bunked in the DWU headquarters, too afraid of going out after dark unless they wanted to end up as fish food or nailed to a wall with lead.

"We couldn't even hold funerals for them because the police rarely found the bodies. The city was half-convinced we'd end up like one of the cape-run territories in Africa, with a warlord at the top, chewing us up and spitting out the bones."

He bowed his head low and his voice trembled. "Please, don't let my Taylor end up as one of those chairs."

He glanced upwards to meet Piggot's stony visage, though he didn't miss the ever-so-slight pursing of her lips.

"Mr. Hebert," she began, chewing on every word with the grace of an experienced politician who was searching for the right words to bullshit with. "I understand this has been a trying time for you, and I don't wish to, as you say, 'drag you by the tail' any longer than necessary. Unfortunately, there is very little we can say for certain regarding your daughter's situation and possible location. However, we have managed to narrow down points of interest where she may be staying. Our objective right now is to formulate an extraction plan that won't get your daughter and other innocents harmed in any potential crossfire. Like Renick said, the BBPD is helping us narrow down locations where we can both find your daughter and retrieve her."

Crossfire. Right, because Taylor was apparently a prime target for the gangs. 'A ripe parahuman up for grabs,' they said. It almost made him puke; less so because of how they said the words, but more on the implication that other gangs viewed his daughter like a commodity.

"It's not just the gangs, isn't it?" he asked. "It's that…other cape who actually saved her."

Renick frowned while the others remained impassive, but the sharp moodfall of the room was obvious.

"...our efforts in researching Sun Wukong are parallel to finding your daughter," Armsmaster said with arms crossed behind his back. "It's more than likely that wherever he is hiding, so is she."

Danny had grown jaded by the city's capes, though he respected the Protectorate's efforts in keeping the more insidious villains and psychos at bay. They could stand to make a great deal of improvement and deserved their fair share of criticism, he wouldn't deny that. Unlike what most of his colleagues thought, he knew that for all their faults, they were trying. It was… Sisyphean, as Annette would say, but if it wasn't for them - the other hero capes came after, so he didn't really count them - Brockton Bay would've become the American equivalent of an African warlord's territory. That didn't stop him from resenting some of the absolute bastards out there, like Hookwolf or Lung. The less said about them, the better.

When the monkey cape came along, he didn't pay him much attention, even when he trounced Lung. Sure, he was relieved, but it was a relief marred by years of cynicism. But when he heard that the same cape had kidnapped his daughter, he nearly collapsed in despair and almost bled his knuckles raw. The chances of the PRT getting her back…he didn't dare speculate at the time. But he still dared to hold onto hope; Annette would never forgive him otherwise.

And then came the letter. What was she thinking!? It was unlikely she escaped. She was staying with the cape. She wanted to stay with the cape.

Why? Why didn't she want to come back?

"...is there anything else?" he asked, all the fight gone from his voice.

Piggot hummed for a moment. "When we do find her, will you help us convince her to come in peacefully? The last thing we wish to do is cause further discord between us."

"I…yeah, I can do that." Anything for her safety.

"Thank you, Mr. Hebert. You may go."

He slowly trudged out of the office until the doors closed behind him with a harrowing thud. With sluggish steps and a sheepish wave to the secretary, Danny slowly meandered through the halls of the PRT headquarters. The staff, familiar with his face after three weeks, gave him a wide berth, though a few sent him looks of concern. He couldn't even muster up the strength to smile back. The sheer falsehood would've melted his face off.

Finally, he reached an open door that led to an empty room, furnished with a small table, a phone, and some chairs. A small meeting room that the staff barely used, so he'd made the most of it. Whatever work he could do over the phone, he did it here. Otherwise, he would've stayed glued to the bed days after Taylor's disappearance.

Taylor. His girl. His little Owl. Gone. Somewhere out on the streets, when the whole city was going to hell.

He pulled out the letter from his shirt pocket and unfolded it, eyes watering at her scribbled words.

I'm sorry.

And she didn't want to come back.

It had to be that cape, right? There's no way she wouldn't want to come back to him otherwise. All he had to do was sit tight, wait until the heroes found her, and then…

…she'd come back. She had to. Right?

Danny covered his mouth and a tremble shook his bony frame. He knew he wasn't Parent of the Year. After Annette's death, the world turned gray and joyless. Life seemed more like a chore than something to enjoy. Work took the edge off, but it was a muzak that kept him distracted from the bleakness. But in the process, he'd left her behind. The only thing left of his beautiful wife, nearly abandoned in his grief. If it wasn't for Alan, Zoe, and Emma…

Emma. Her name came up in their reports, but it had to be a mistake! If she were really…involved in this clusterfuck, Taylor would've told him! Alan would've told him.

Wouldn't she?

The paper crumpled as his hands clenched it tight. By the time his friends pulled him out of his funk, Taylor was barely there. She'd have this…empty look in her eye he'd seen in the mirror once too often to ignore. Dinner conversations were awkward, and questions were answered with single syllables. And every time he wanted to reach out, to take her by the shoulders and ask her about her day…he stopped.

A coward, that's what he was—one who feared upsetting his daughter so much that he blinded himself to her pain. Give her time, he thought. She'll open up soon. Then everything will be back to normal.

It never was.

It never will be.

And now she was gone. Out in the dark, searching for something that he was never able to give her.

He knew he shouldn't stay like that for too long. He had work to do, and the Dockworkers still needed him.

But he needed this moment. If only to never let himself forget the anguish inside of him.

Thus, between linoleum-covered walls and varnished doors, Danny Hebert wept.

Wept for a past so bright that the world was dark without it.

For the one remaining spark that he'd failed to nourish.

"So the speckled band was a snake all along?" Wukong barked in laughter. "Oh, how obvious! This Old Sun should've guessed it the moment the lord spoke of a menagerie!"

Missy raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't have to pretend you weren't stumped, you know. It's a point in the story's favor that you didn't catch on until the end."

"But I have encountered many serpents, especially down in India!" Wukong crossed his arms and pouted. "Had I deigned to properly meditate on the mystery, it would've come as no surprise!"

"You visited India?" she asked, lowering the book in her hands. "When was that?"

"Oh, a long while ago. A fascinating land with equally fascinating mortals and beasts. They were quite fond of snakes, and many dwelled in the jungles and temples alike. A speckled snake would be rather commonplace. So commonplace there it wouldn't have stuck out, I admit." He leaned into the couch and stared with admiration at the open book he held. "Nevertheless, the tension, the buildup…I never thought it possible for a murder to be written with such intrigue. This is no detached poem; nay, this is a proper story worthy of any shuōshū rén! You have a keen eye for literature, dear girl!"

She smiled and ducked her head, hiding her flush in vain. "It's Sherlock Holmes," she said. "Of course he's the best. I don't think anyone wrote better than Doyle, other than Christie. I've read a few of the newer mystery books, and they could learn a thing or two from the old masters. And don't get me started on capelit."

Wukong tilted his head. "Capelit?"

"Oh, cape literature, if you can call it that. Since capes first appeared, every other book has the main character or someone close to them be a cape with a hidden power that solves the story. It's cheap, stupid, boring, and makes me wanna break a wall every time I read one." She scoffed, her cheeks slightly puffed out. It was rather adorable. "Honestly, can't people try and be a little creative?"

"True creativity requires effort and is oft unrecognized," Wukong replied sagely, nodding his head. "I had the…partial misfortune of spending time in the circles of higher echelons, and they sneer at even the slightest form of originality. All parties and giggling maids, and woe be unto the one who suggests anything different!" He scoffed. "Rather glad I was kicked out, to be honest."

The girl looked him up and down with incredulity. "You? In high society?"

Instead of being insulted as a lesser being would, Wukong merely chuckled. "Yes, many had the same reaction. It wasn't my preferred circle either, but there were some good grains in that rotten bowl of rice."

"...whatever you say," she uttered, then cleared her throat. "So, onto the next one, I'm guessing?"

"Naturally! As if I would drop a chance to read another thrilling tale like this one!" He turned the page and rolled the name of the next story on his tongue. "The Blue Carbuncle…ah, gems! The downfall of many a maiden! What intrigue will you stumble upon this time, keen-eyed Holmes?"

Missy rolled her eyes and returned to her reading, her amused smile glowing brightly. Wukong's eyes landed on the first sentence, and he began whispering it under his breath to help etch the memory of the story into his mind.

"I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown…"

The creaking of wood broke his focus, and he gazed upon the old storekeeper trudging up the stairs. His weathered face flashed with uncertain ponderousness as their gazes met, but then he turned to Missy and the ghost of a smile flickered.

"You doing okay up here? Last I checked, there wasn't a sports channel on."

"We were just discussing the books, sorry," Missy apologized. "It kinda got heated."

"Just make sure to keep your voices down, okay? The walls aren't exactly soundproof." The shopkeeper turned to Wukong and his smile wavered. "I take it you're enjoying yourself?"

"I most certainly am, good sir! This shop of yours holds many treasures, and this Old Sun is honored by yourself and dear Missy for showing him such wondrous stories!" Wukong replied. "To think that this great trove is available to any mortal who pays a pittance, and in such quantity and quality…a marvel reaches the peak only for another to take its place!"

The shopkeeper raised a questioning brow and glanced at Missy, who chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, he talks like that all the time. You'll get used to it."

He huffed and rubbed his forehead. "I wouldn't bet on it. It's not every day a cape walks into a bookstore, much less this hole in the wall." He then sent a stern glare at Wukong and jabbed his finger. "But the moment you start anything, you're out. I let you two use this room to keep you from scaring away customers, so don't."

"I would never dream of it, good sir! It would be the highest of insults!"

"Hmph. We'll see about that."

Wukong took another moment to observe the shopkeeper. Jethro Dumont, as he introduced himself, was a man of many winters, evidenced by his ashen hair, yet he was well-groomed, with his scraggly beard cut to a sharpened point. A velvet robe was draped over his shoulders and held by a sash, appearing quite heavy, yet he didn't slouch in the slightest. His great nose, which Wukong previously thought red, was flushed with the winter cherry rather than the telltale deep-red of drunkenness. Heavy calluses were etched on his palms, signifying years of toil beyond a mere bookshop.

"Were there any customers today, Mr. Dumont?" Missy asked.

"A few. Bookstores ain't exactly big sellers in these parts, especially used shops like mine. These days, people would rather buy online than drag their lazy asses away from the desk." A scowl flashed over his face. "But there are enough who do, and that's what's important."

Wukong still couldn't fathom how people could simply request items of their choice from anywhere in the world and have them delivered with ease. Peizhi and Taylor had explained the concept to him several times, and while he understood the mechanisms behind it, comprehension eluded him withal. Again, all with mortal means. It boggled the mind.

Will wonders never cease?

"However, I've been seeing a good number of new faces lately. Turns out when you aren't so afraid of getting mugged on the street, you get the urge to explore." His glare was brief but pointed, yet any accusation it held was false. "I'm in no danger of selling out, but it's nice to hear the register ring in the double-digits."

The Monkey King smiled and dipped his head. "This Old Sun is pleased that your fellow mortals appreciate the treasures of your store." Such changes wrought from swatting a carp…how amusing, yet fulfilling!

Mr. Dumont's beard twitched at the remark, but Wukong didn't miss the ephemeral twitch of amusement on his lips. "Spreading the extra-greasy butter, ain't you?" He then shrugged. "Whatever, you won't hear me complaining. If it helps me repair that crumbling hole in the basement, then I can handle a larger crowd any day." His eyes then drifted to the stack of books resting on the stool to Wukong's left. It was a modest pile, barely surpassing Wukong in height. "You gonna read all that today? The store closes at seven."

"I admit that was my plan at the start, but I fear that my riveting conversations with young Missy here shall draw my attention away." His furry tail reached out to the pile and, with surprising dexterity, opened the Empire of the Eye: Landscape Representation in the 19th century. It was a tad trickier to open books with his tail than scrolls; more than once, Missy's disapproving stare scolded him for dropping the tomes and risking their integrity. "I shall have to double my efforts!"

"Well, I ain't gonna save those for you, if that's what you're hoping for; this isn't a library or one of those newer bookstores downtown." The graybeard crossed his arms. "If someone buys them, then that's that."

Wukong shrugged in response. A shame, but who was he to deny a merchant his income? He still possessed 'bills' he liberated from the clutches of the lowlife ruffians, so buying these books was definitely an option… but he enjoyed the shop's feng shui, and it provided a discreet location to chat. He'd introduce Missy to his disciple in due time, but it was best not to overwhelm the poor lass.

As he began admiring the landscape artworks and the luck of Peterson for finding such a valuable gem, however, Mr. Dumont's voice drew him away from the literary world. "History of the Han dynasty? Funny choice."

"Hm?" Wukong glanced at the pile until he spotted a title tucked in the middle. "Oh yes, I couldn't resist. I admit, I'm curious as to how you mortals perceive these events, especially across such vast seas. I never bothered with the Han, but tales of the mayhem that rocked the lands during their fall reached my mountain, with every side damning the other. A few of my sworn-brothers sent leal soldiers to scout and report back, but yaoguai always have a habit of embellishing tales. Amusing at banquets and around fires, but inadequate for historical record-keeping."

Not to mention that whole mess with the Three Kingdoms when he was trapped. 'Quite the epic saga, if Yuchang's tales held their merit. A nice god, as far as they went, and a renowned warrior, but had a flair for embellishment which rivaled yaoguai at times.'

"...okay, I'm gonna assume every other word that comes out of your mouth is cape bullshit, 'cause I don't think my liver's gonna handle all the hooch logging it up." The old man deadpanned, then sighed in remembrance. "Heh, takes me back, though, to when I last visited the place."

Missy tilted her head. "You've been to China, Mr. Dumont?"

He smiled and slightly leaned against one of the shelves. "Twice, and both of them felt like a lifetime ago. The first time, I barely had a hair on my chin and was stuck in some hole doing guard duty in Pearl when I was shipped out to Hebei to help clean up the mess the Japs left behind. Missed out on most of the war, but apparently there was plenty left to do. Spent two years there and in Shandong swatting PLOs before General Howard pulled us back home. The idiot younger me hated missing out on the action, but I'm glad I did. Saw how different the world they don't show in the papers could be."

Wukong, books in hand and tail, rubbed his chin as his curiosity welled. Had Meiguo invaded China? A great number of years ago, from the greybeard's reckoning. Now he knew why Dumont's bearing remained strong at his age. A warrior never forgets his training.

"Second time was in '81, I think. The country opened up for tourists a couple o' years back. One of my old platoon buddies landed himself a cushy job in Pan Am and sent me and Rita free tickets for my birthday. I always had the notion of going back, but never had the time or money." Dumont chuckled as nostalgia filled his voice, hearkening to times of joy and sadness. "One of the best months of my life. The country went through some serious issues, but it was like the government splashed a coat of the shiniest Home Depot paint over everything when we landed. We barely understood what anyone was saying, but I picked up a couple of words from the locals during my tour. Amazing food, great scenery…god, those were the days." His countenance then darkened and his hands gripped his wrinkled biceps. "A crying shame what it's become now."

Wukong couldn't help but smile knowingly. The expression the greybeard sported was unmistakable: a journey away from home can truly shine the brightest light on the bleakest of circumstances. Sometimes one needed a different view of the world to appreciate it better.

But what did he mean by 'what it has become?' Had misfortune fallen upon the Tang and they lost the Mandate of Heaven? He had been absent for many decades after Master Tang returned to Emperor Taizong, and had paid little attention to matters beyond the Court and his mountain. If so, then he hoped Taizong's dynasty had lasted a few more generations before his descendants failed in their duties. The man deserved that much for his friendship with Tang Sanzang.

'Nevertheless, I sense a deeper meaning in the elder's words…even Peizhi-xiansheng danced on butterfly's wings whenever I asked about our homeland.'

Dumont then snorted and lightly slapped his face. "Bah, enough trips down memory lane for today. Don't forget to pick up the books after you're done. Leave 'em on the stool if you don't know where they're supposed to go, as long as they're not lyin' on the floor."

He shot a quick smile at Missy and began to head out of the room. Before he stepped beyond the threshold, however, Wukong cleared his throat. There was one thing he needed to ask, and the elder's 'trip down memory lane' - a poignant idiom, indeed! - sparked a niggling reminder in his brain.

"Yes?" the greybeard asked with a smidge of annoyance.

"Forgive this Old Sun's impertinence, honored Dumont, but I was wondering if a certain book remains in your possession. I laid eyes upon it during my first foray into your humble establishment right before my urgent leave of absence." He reached into his robe, fiddling around in its inner pockets before pulling out Missy's folded note and opening it. "Xi You Ji is its title…and I believe the translation is Journey to the West in your tongue?"

'Thrice more do I ask, why does that name make my fur stand on end?'

Dumont held out his arm and Wukong passed him the note. He read through it and hummed in thought, careful not to wrinkle the paper too much. "Journey to the West, you say?" His eyes widened in recognition, and he snapped his fingers. "Right, I remember that one. Had it tucked away here after an old Asian couple moved out of the city half a year ago and sold everything they couldn't fit in their trunk. Didn't think much of it at the time, just another couple hightailing it out of this dump of a city. Sorry, but that one sold not long after your first time here." He stroked his beard and furrowed his brows. "Funny you asked, 'cause I've had a few Asian visitors asking for that book these past few days."

Wukong's shoulders dropped. "A shame. I shall have to try my luck elsewhere. Will this library hold a copy?"

"No reason to think they won't, but it'll probably be in English."

"Maybe you should finish going through that pile first?" Missy suggested with a small wave of her palm. "A backlog's nice and all, but I wouldn't recommend building up a big one."

"One must never eschew knowledge, dear girl," Wukong swiftly replied. "Thank you nonetheless, honored Dumont."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved him off. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" he turned and left the room, leaving the monkey and the girl in peaceful silence.

"An interesting man," Wukong remarked as he stroked his chin. "I take it he is more than a familiar face?"

"Mmm, kinda," Missy replied. "He lets me stay around as long as I keep quiet. The place helps me relax."

A kind soldier indeed. "Understandable. Now, where were we?"

She opened her mouth to respond when faint shouting tingled in Wukong's sensitive ears. Right outside, as a matter of fact.

"One moment," he said, returning the books to his pile in the blink of an eye. Turning into his ethereal state, ignoring Missy's startled yelp, he phased through the shop's walls and outside, where a van of the PRT was parked on the curb across from him. Three men holding thunder-weapons and dressed in armor had cornered another shopkeeper, who shouted at them with a reddening face.

"I'm telling you, I don't know shit! Now go harass someone else!"

"Sir, please calm down," the leader of the men said, unbothered by the shopkeeper's rage. "We understand your frustration, but this is an emergency. If there's anything, no matter how small, that could help, we'd greatly appreciate it."

"After you lot tore through my shop? Hah, fat chance!" The man raised a fist, which held a piece of paper. "The hell kind of a warrant is this anyway? This shit even legal?"

"Yes, the warrant is legal and signed by a federal judge. We have reports that the villain was sighted nearby, even on this very street. Given his track record, the PRT has been given the authority to search locations of interest. Please, sir, his presence is putting your friends and neighbors at risk."

"Risk?" The shopkeeper let out a humorless bark of laughter. "Like you're the paragons of safety yourself, eh? Where was all this ruckus a few months ago when every other block was burned to cinders? All you people did was stand by and let that kusoyaro play patty-cake with your heroes with our homes as the dance floor? And now, when everything's starting to calm down, you suddenly start paying attention?"

"Sir, regardless of the side effects of his actions, Sun Wukong remains a high-priority villain." The leading soldier continued, though Wukong detected frustration seeping into his voice. "He unmasked and attacked a Ward in broad daylight, endangering dozens of civilian lives in the process, as well as causing reckless property damage. There's no telling the kind of damage he can do if he's allowed to roam free."

"Well, let me tell you something, fed! You and the rest of your hit squad don't mean shit here!" The shopkeeper leaned in close until he was nose-to-helmet with the soldier. "So, for the ten-thousandth time, I know shit. I never saw any monkey-man come past here and I never talked to one. So, unless you've got better proof hiding under that vest, I suggest you skedaddle."

Wukong smirked at the shopkeeper's spunk. Even when confronted by force of arms, his will matched his girth!

Naturally, such an inspiring moment was destined for ruin.

"You know," one of the soldiers, a young'un, drawled. "Something tells me you and the rest of the folks here aren't being 100% cooperative. Considering the shit we face every time a cape decides to have a field day, that really grinds my rails. So here's my offer: unless you start coughing up some real information and not blustering threats in the next ten seconds, we'll book you for aiding and abetting a known criminal. What's it gonna be?"

The chubby trader suddenly paled, and his knobbish little knees began to quake. No doubt filled with dread at what an arrest could mean for him and his business.

'That won't do at all.'

In the blink of an eye, the soldier was sent flying and struck the wall before collapsing in a pained heap. The other two immediately turned with their weapons raised, only for their eyes to widen at the magnificent presence of the Monkey King.

"Good afternoon, ignoble fellows!" he greeted them, arms crossed behind his back and ebony robe swaying in the wind. "This Old Sun was taking a pleasant hop and stroll when he heard you threaten this poor, upstanding gentleman with his livelihood over mere speculation." He tilted his head with a playful smile. "Quite rude of the supposed vanguards of the city, no?"

The soldier's friends snarled and snapped his weapon upward. "Sun Wukong! You're under arrest -"

Alas, he never finished his sentence, for he crumpled down thanks to a well-placed chop to his neck. The leader barely had time to blink before he was foisted upwards by his collar and staring into Wukong's red eyes.

"As much as I would love showing you and your compatriots the error of your ways in intimate and lengthy detail, my experience concludes that disciplining fodder like yourself is meaningless in the long run. If you would kindly direct me to your commander or whatever misguided soul is in charge of your operations, we can clear up this egregious misunderstanding in no time. What do you say?"

The silence stretched for a few seconds. Wukong never broke his stare into the soldier's tinted visor, and his grip was solid stone. 'Hmph, a tough one? Hmm, no matter. I have special tongue-loosening techniques that would surely -'

"...he's on Markinson and Rudger's, northwest from here."

Wukong blinked, startled by the soldier's quick, yet resigned, admission, then scoffed. "So much for loyalty. Truly, the epitome of a protector's spirit. I thank you for your insight, but I cannot have you harass these people further, so…"

Another chop to the neck, and he went down. Before he even touched the ground, Wukong gathered up all three bodies and tossed them inside the van, then locked them inside with a metal bar he transformed from his hair. The Monkey King then turned to the shopkeeper and lightly bowed. "Apologies for bringing such unpleasantness upon your domicile, shopkeeper. You have my word that these men shall trouble you no longer."

The man in question gaped at him, his jaw twitching and eyes dumbfounded. "Uh…thanks?"

"Wonderful!" Wukong pulled the collar of his robes and leapt high. He bounded from roof to roof, idly noting the other vans rolling along the district as bystanders eyed them with suspicion.

'So the mortals have upped their game to find me, eh? Well, this Old Sun shall not disappoint them!'

His eyes soon landed on the intersection the soldier referenced, where not one, but three vans were waiting. With a graceful somersault, he landed right before them, cracking the road under his feet.

"Rejoice!" he yelled, outstretching his arms. "This Old Sun has heard you desired an audience! Why don't you come out before I decide to inspect your vehicles myself? I'd hate to ruin such pristine creations."

Silence was his answer. Not even a flicker of movement or a whisper from behind the tinted windows. Wukong's lips twitched, and he activated his Golden Eyes, piercing through metal to reveal…nothing?

When something clanked to his left, the Buddha's wisdom shone again.

Ah, an ambush. I was wondering how long before they'd resort to such measures.

Smoke erupted from the canister, filling the air around him. Men all around him barked orders and sprays of liquid flew at him from behind the smoke. Sidestepping two such jets, his eyebrows rose as they expanded into giant globs of foam, sturdier than any seafoam or bathfoam he'd seen.

Interesting capture measure.

But useless in the end.

Even if it was meant as a distraction.

Wukong twirled on his leg as a halberd ran through where he stood, crackling with light- no, electricity. The armored figure who'd charged into the smoke immediately turned in his direction and attacked, unbothered by the loss of vision.

"Exemplary tactic," he commended the man. "Would have blindsided lesser guai. But if we are to properly fight, then we should at least address each other properly, no?"

He took a deep breath and blew. A gale erupted from his mouth, scattering the smoke to the four corners and allowing the afternoon sun to shine upon them again. Before him stood the bearded hero he'd encountered at that filthy school, clad in his shiny blue armor. His stance and spear were poised at the ready, showing no signs of faltering despite the sudden change in the battlefield's environment. Surrounding them were more of those armored soldiers with weapons pointed right at the monkey.

"Infinitely better, would you not agree, oh armored one?" he asked.

"We have you surrounded, Sun Wukong," Armsmaster replied, his tenor as rigid as Wukong remembered. "You've caused enough damage, no matter how well-intentioned your actions are. The city has enough to deal with without your antics. Surrender now and we can resolve this without further violence."

"Hah! Bold claims, Armsmaster," he drawled and smirked at the soldiers, who tensed up every time he moved. "But surely you do not expect this paltry force to stop me?"

"If you're referring to your powers, I've taken precautions. This entire area is cordoned off and we have snipers posted everywhere with orders to use maximum force. You've shown too much of your hand when you showboated in front of the whole city. One wrong move and you'll end up in a wheelchair for the rest of your prison days."

'Sniper…another new term. Sharpshooters?' His Golden Eyes revealed more soldiers crouched on the rooftops above. 'Irrelevant.'

"Forgive this Old Sun's skepticism, but promises have yielded little from you and your cohorts. The people refer to you as heroes, but I hardly find harassing innocent mortals for my whereabouts heroic. Was that a momentary lapse of haste, or another notch in the stick of failures?"

"It got you here, didn't it?" Armsmaster shot back, confirming one of Wukong's earlier suspicions. "Last chance. Surrender and divulge the location of Taylor Hebert, and we can work out a deal."

"Oh, now you remember the poor lass? How convenient when she is involved with one of your charges." Wukong tutted and rubbed his chin fur in mock contemplation. "No, I don't think I shall. As I have stated before, I have no reason to trust you with her well-being, and she is rather flourishing under my tutelage. If she wants to talk with you, that is her choice alone, but until then…" he shooed at him. "Spare what thimbleful of dignity you have left and retreat. Or is that not 'heroic' enough? There is no shame in withdrawing, as I'm sure you've experienced many times."

That one comment made Armsmaster's teeth grind, and without another word, he charged with blazing speed, more than enough to overwhelm a common criminal. He thrust his halberd and Wukong caught it with his bare hands, admiring its sleek design for a second before pushing him away.

"Remarkable craftsmanship. A shame such a weapon is used by such a misguided warrior." He stared at Armsmaster, and for a brief instant, the shade of a tall, resplendent man overshadowed the hero.

Heh, of all times…

"I once knew a warrior who wielded a weapon like yours; an unrivalled master in his art, and one of a privileged few whom I deemed equal." He reached for his ear and in a flash of golden light, the Ruyi Jingu Bang appeared in his palm. Grabbing and slamming the staff on the ground, he bared his fangs and motioned with his hand, as though his opponent was an arrogant senior who'd crossed a line.

"Let's see how well you can hope to match him!"

Chapter Text

When the Great Sage saw him, he lifted high his golden-hooped rod with gales of laughter and called out, "What little warrior are you and where do you come from, that you dare present yourself here to provoke battle?"

"You must have eyes but no pupils," shouted the Immortal Master, "if you don't recognize me! I am the maternal nephew of the Jade Emperor, Erlang, the King of Illustrious Grace and Spirit by imperial appointment. I have received my order from above to arrest you, the rebellious Bimawen ape. Don't you know that your time has come?"

"I remember," said the Great Sage, "that the sister of the Jade Emperor some years ago became enamored of the Region Below; she married a man by the name of Yang and had a son by him. Are you that boy who was reputed to have cleaved open the Peach Mountain with his ax? I would like to rebuke you roundly, but I have no grudge against you. I can hit you with this rod of mine too, but I'd like to spare your life! A little boy like you, why don't you hurry back and ask your Four Great Devarājas to come out?"

When the Immortal Master heard this, he grew very angry and shouted, "Reckless ape! Don't you dare be so insolent! Take a sample of my blade!" Swerving to dodge the blow, the Great Sage quickly raised his golden-hooped rod to engage his opponent.

What a fine fight there was between the two of them!

-Journey to the West, chapter 6

The first blow determines the flow of battle. An axiom that has stood true throughout the ages. Colin had every intention of landing that first blow.

He jabbed his spear forward, aimed right at the cape's sternum. Wukong parried the blow with his staff and tried to push him aside, only for his rocket boots to kick in and push him forward. When Wukong's gaze diverted to the clashing weapons, Armsmaster pulled out another halberd and jabbed it right below his ribcage, its tip crackling blue with 10,000 volts. A tail whipped out and halted the weapon a hair's length away from his black robes.

"Please, expanding weapons are a tiresome repetition; attempt something original," Wukong tutted, even as his knees buckled. Armsmaster didn't rise to the taunt; truth was, he didn't expect a strong reaction from Wukong, considering his own weapon. With a press of a button, smoke erupted from the first halberd's point, surprising Wukong just enough for him to jerk back the spear and charge him again. A sudden gust of wind buffeted his armor as the monkey-man spun wildly and deflected both his blows, dispersing the smoke in his wake. Armsmaster quickly settled into a ready stance as Wukong rubbed his eyes with a furrowed brow. He would normally press his assault, but the circumstances were different with the new cape.

With a final shake of his head, Wukong opened his eyes and mock-glared at Colin. "Such trickery in an honorable duel?" he gasped. "Appalling to think one who is deemed a hero would rely on such dishonorable tactics!"

"It's called being pragmatic," the hero in question retorted. "I'm not taking any chances with you, and if it means using every weapon available in my arsenal, then so be it."

From his observations, Wukong didn't seem like the type to espouse honor, of all things, but for some reason, Armsmaster wasn't surprised. If Wukong really was buying into his own cosplay, then it would make sense for him to adhere to some chivalric code, albeit one rooted in a Chinese mindset. His displays against the gangsters were rough and savage, yet with Shadow Stalker, Glory Girl, and even the occasional Ward he encountered on the street, he merely knocked them unconscious with a singular strike or left without a word. Glory Girl's powerset might have required him to deal her a few extra bruises, but nothing to the extent he showed the ABB or the Empire.

Could he use this to his advantage? Insufficient data.

Yet again, however, the monkey replied in a manner opposite that, not by disparaging his actions, but with a mere shrug and dip of his head. "Wise words. A truly great warrior never allows the shackles of scripture to deny his choices in a fight." The corners of his lips twitched upwards. "What you should ask yourself, armored one, is whether or not you will have enough tricks?"

Plenty.

The rocket boots ignited again, launching Armsmaster with blinding speed. He spun his halberds in a flurry of stings and swipes, weaving through Wukong's parries and attacking every opening he could spot. As the sounds of steel rang in the air, Colin had to begrudgingly admit: his earlier assessments of Wukong's prowess with the staff were woefully understated. He wasn't just skilled; he was a master. No inch of the staff was left to waste, either by blocking his moves or clanging against his armor. Every pointless flourish kept him away, a slight graze meant destabilizing his balance, and each time he ducked under a swipe, his kinetic sensors screamed from the force behind it. While he was confident in his armor's ability to handle high-level Brute strikes, the sheer strength behind the swings alone would knock him back and put him at a disadvantage.

Such finesse couldn't be the result of powers alone. But if a cape of his skill was active for years, how come Watchdog didn't find any trace of him?

Two more strikes failed to connect, but they forced Wukong to grip his staff in front of him. A graphene blade extended from his halberd's tip and he slashed at the staff, trailing sparks as metal scraped metal. The blade, no thicker than an atom and capable of slicing titanium like butter…left only the faintest of scratches.

Metallic alloy of unknown composition. Scanners indicate a high percentage of iron. Black coloring is possibly the result of oxidation. Other elements…scan failed, anomalies detected. Treatment and creation likely the result of tinker power.

Armamster frowned as the scanner's results flashed before him, fed from the nano-sensor embedded within the tip. The staff's tinkertech nature wasn't news, but it still left more questions unanswered. Did Wukong create the staff himself, or did he acquire it through other means? There weren't many tinkers who could create materials strong enough to withstand monomolecular graphene, and there'd still be at least some damage. But barely a nick? Based on regular iron, no less?

Energy signature detected.

The hydraulics in his suit roared as he jumped high, right above the staff that extended through where he once stood. Wukong vaulted toward him, fangs bared with bloodlust and claws unsheathed. The moment he was within arm's reach, Colin thrust a halberd forward and a burst of air exploded from the tip, striking his opponent square in the chest. His eyes wide, Armaster took a microsecond to revel in Wukong's stupor before activating the PRT commlink.

"Phase 2, open fire!"

The neighborhood erupted with the staccato of gunfire and the spraying of liquid. Anti-brute rounds battered Wukong as he landed, with containment foam expanding all around him. Wukong was a blur of black and brown outlined with gold, deflecting bullets left and right and dodging the jets of foam. But the onslaught Armsmaster had prepared beforehand was proceeding like clockwork; the storm of bullets and foam was too much even for parahuman senses, and the moment he would try and summon those clones of his, a few seconds' worth of opportunity would open. If that happened, Armsmaster was ready.

He meant every word he said to the monkey-man: one way or another, Wukong's antics would end today.

And just as he predicted, a stream finally coated the back of Wukong's mane. He barely had time to reach for it as more liquid foam coated his body and expanded until a gigantic bubble of yellowish foam stood in the middle of the street.

"Cease fire!" Colin shouted into the comms. He heard the order being relayed to the rest of the troopers, and the heavy noises of firearms left the scene as echoes. But even as soldiers smiled and discreetly bumped fists, Armsmaster readied his halberds again, preparing a specially-treated graphene needle. The tip hummed and crackled with dangerously high voltage, enough to kill an elephant thrice over.

Because if his predictions were correct…

A clawed fist punched through the foam, causing the rooftop soldiers to shout and ready their weapons. Chunks flew and shattered against the asphalt as Sun Wukong began to tear and claw his way through the makeshift prison. Thunder and cordite returned in full glory, impacting Wukong even as he shrugged them off. But their ineffectiveness didn't matter. Because the moment a round exploded against Wukong's face, Armsmaster seized his chance.

Cranking up his hydraulics to full power, he charged right into the center of the storm…

…and thrust the weapon into Wukong's exposed sternum.

He jerked in place and convulsed, the flow of electricity seeping through Colin's halberd and into his skin. A strangled cry escaped his mouth and Colin held back the welling of satisfaction in his stomach. Both needles held firm; one for the super-taser and the other for the paralytic seeping into the bestial cape's body. A mental command to his scanner displayed a quick scan of Wukong's vitals.

'A few seconds more should do the trick. I calculated the precise voltage and cc's of paralytic needed to shut him down. Lung served as a good benchline, but it won't be long now before we can transport him to the high-security cells until -'

Hold on.

The X-rays…they weren't working. An electric discharge, even of this caliber, shouldn't have disrupted them. But he couldn't even see bones.

'Where are his organs? There's not a trace of real flesh. His fur is real, but the follicles are almost nonexistent. All I'm reading here is…stone?'

Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled forward. Switching off the scanner, his visor returned to full view…as he stared right into the gold-and-red eyes of Sun Wukong, crowned with an absolutely feral grin.

Before he could react, Wukong flung him to the side, sending him crashing into a wall. Silencing his alarms, Armsmaster groaned and slowly got up as Wukong tore through the last remnants of his foamy trappings. He stared at his arm for a moment before slowly turning his gaze to his staff and clenching the fist that held it.

"All teams," Armsmaster barked into the comms. "Open fire and do not -"

"STOP!"

Gold flashed across the sky. Following Wukong's outstretched finger, it took all of Colin's remaining control for his jaw to stay locked as the entirety of the PRT team, on the rooftops and hiding behind windows, was enveloped in a golden haze. Their faces and stances frozen in time as a Chinese character shimmered above each of their heads.

'The Chinese character for 'stop'...Glory Girl mentioned that he somehow stopped her movements…but to affect multiple people simultaneously as well?'

"Much better!" the cape exclaimed, idly dusting his robes free of pieces of foam and dirt as though they weren't subject to a military-grade barrage. "These riff-raff were amusing the first time, but a monkey's face can only endure so many insults before action must be taken!"

He then turned to Armsmaster and his grin stretched wider, causing his canines to glisten with saliva. "You are a cut above the rest indeed! Atrocious manners and misplaced priorities aside, you possess a flair for tactics on par with the Heavenly Generals! This Old Sun commends you on the mastery of Venerable Sunzi's teaching, for you have implemented them like few others!"

Sunzi? Sun Tzu? Oh great, more theatrics.

"But for all my chatter about manners, I must apologize. You have taught me so much in this fight, and I have yet to impart a single lesson!" Wukong jumped away and landed atop a telephone pole, then stared at his staff and raised it high. "And while the delivery was rather rude, you have offered me the most intriguing of gifts!"

The air slowly began to hum. Car lights and store signs flickered with increasing frequency. Spark flew from the fuse box on the pole he was perched on. Armsmaster's visor flashed with more alerts, each one bearing the same warning.

Ambient electricity levels in air exceeding normal baselines…climbing to 25% above normal levels...35%...65%...warning, high risk of electrocution without proper protection. RECOMMENDATION: Evacuate all non-cape personnel. Initiating armor insulation protocols.

Wukong brought his staff down, and it burst into a flare of light. Bolts of blue flew in from all around him, even trailing up from the cape's body himself, pouring into the staff. Seconds later, the hum of electricity almost drowned Colin's speakers as coiling streams of lightning ran up and down the gold-tipped staff.

Current reading: WARNING: LETHAL VOLTAGE.

Even though he maintained his stoic gaze, Armsmaster resisted the urge to swallow. Because if the theories on Wukong being a Trump were true…

…then he needed a new plan, stat.

Lightning.

The celestial arrow.

Since the first clouds shrouded the earth, mortals looked above and trembled in awe at the searing-white horns that descended from the clouds, splitting the darkened skies. Their awe transformed into joy as the first rains descended shortly after, and lightning was heralded as the bringer of crops and bounty. When evildoers and yaoguai preyed upon the masses, the Mother of Lightning, Dianmu, marked them with shimmering mirrors for her husband, Righteous Leigong, to strike down with his thunderous hammer. Should a mortal dare cross the boundaries of Heaven and Earth, the lightning of heavenly tribulation would smite them where they stood. Had Wukong not mastered the 72 Transformations at his master's behest, his newfound immortality would be rendered moot.

Yin and yang in equal measure. Herald of salvation and damnation, infused within a single act of nature.

A manifestation of pure celestial power, beyond the Five Elements, wielded only by the privileged few. Apart from blue-faced Leigong and his wife, only the Dragon Kings with their calamitous storms and the sworn swords of the Jade Emperor could claim to wield it.

And these mortals have bridled it to their will.

Sun Wukong slowly spun his staff around, watching as streams of blue and white coiled around the weapon. His hands tingled with every stray spark, yet the novel sensation did not slacken his grip. An ashen scent tickled his nose, waxing and waning with every second the newfound energy flowed.

'This requires greater focus than my previous experiments. There is no appliance to direct the flow, save my own qi, containing it around the staff.' He swiped the air and a blue trail arced behind the staff's golden tip. 'Wild and expanding…certainly a challenge, even for masters.'

He diverted his gaze toward the armored hero, who'd pulled himself out of the new indent on the building's side. 'A blustering brute, he is not. There is a heaping of pride there - I'd be a fool not to recognize it - but tempered with a tactical acumen belying his appearance. To damage the Ruyi Jingu Bang, even with a tiny scratch which has already faded…Old Sun, do not underestimate him.'

Above Armsmaster's head, his apparition warped with riotous frenzy. Spoked wheels spun at blinding speeds, shrinking and aligning into endless patterns. Each new wheel differed from the last: new patterns, the number of spokes, the size…even the minute details only his Golden Eyes could spot.

'An arsenal of a hundred stored within his armor and some spears…he doesn't produce them on the spot, but prepares them in advance. A smith more than a shaper. Heh, the old tiger would love to sit down and swap trade secrets with him.' He spun his staff again and pointed it at the hero.

"There is no shame in surrendering. Unlike the false long and his ilk, I will leave you be if you promise to do the same."

"Fat chance," the hero retorted, pulling out another halberd from his armor. "You think I didn't plan for this? I'm not leaving without you in a cell."

'Ah, the classic bluff. Too bad, my blue-clad adversary, but hatchlings cannot pull the wool over this Old Sun's eyes. At least you hold your composure better than the pig-faced girl who preyed upon my disciple.'

He sighed, the smile on his face betraying any hint of true remorse. "Very well, if you insist on this path…"

Thunder clapped, and in a blur he stood before the hero, staff held high.

"Then be it far from me to disappoint!"

Staff struck spear, and lightning engulfed them both. A chorus of chirping and sparking pops rang out with each strike as they resumed their dance. Wukong stole the advantage and held it as he assaulted the 'hero' with a barrage of strikes, each one discharging searing blue flares. His opponent handled himself well, displaying skill by dodging and diverting his attacks as much as possible. Yet Wukong could tell his rapid attacks and electric discharges were doing their damage; a shaky limb, a delayed reaction, even a flaming boot took a breath longer to activate. However his armor was enchanted, it was no divine construct, and thus had its appropriate limits.

He swung his staff and, with a mental command, the Ruyi Jingu Bang expanded to the width of a tree trunk. Just before the weapon could knock Armsmaster into the next province, a glowing blue shield popped out of his gauntlet and he somersaulted over the staff, with the shield taking the brunt of the blow, enough to prevent most of the damage. Yet the arc of lightning that followed the swing flared and blew him back. Shrinking the staff, Wukong saw that the coils of lightning had vanished, and he felt little trace of the massive well of energy he'd absorbed.

'Hmm…yes, that's what this Old Sun expected,' he thought. 'Channeling and generating are different realms of skill, and I have no aptitude for the latter. If I were on the road with Master Tang, I would have to conserve my use of this newfound power.' He barely had to glance to see a streetlamp shining above him. 'How fortunate I stand in an orchard rather than a barren plain!'

Wukong smacked his staff against the lamp and pulled. The bulb and the ground under it lit up with sparks as electricity coursed through the metal and around his staff, enveloping it once more. Sending a pulse of qi around the staff, Wukong's lips twitched downward as the lightning flailed against his will for a second before it settled into a proper flow.

'Temperamental as well. Not a power to be used lightly, indeed. Lady Dianmu has my infinite respect for mastering it. Considering her attitude toward me when I first joined the Court though, her domain matches her personality rather well.'

The groaning of his newest sparring partner drew the Monkey King from his musings. He stared at Armsmaster as he drew himself up and extended his halberds, the tip of the left one vibrating faster than a dragonfly's wings.

"A resilient one, aren't you?" Wukong called out. "I don't suppose any more calls to surrender would be effective, would they?" He pinched his robes and brought them up, showcasing a spot Armsmaster had previously stabbed. The only hint of damage was a faint indent in the cloth. "I must book an appointment with my seamstress to repair these elegant robes. So if you would kindly come to a decision, this Old Sun is certain karma shall repay you."

The man's jaw set as he ground his teeth. Ah, there was the pride! With a wordless snarl, he thrust his other halberd forward. An orange ball was released from its tip, sailing toward him. Wukong tilted his head and the ball flew past him, barely grazing his mane before exploding into foam behind him.

…well, he did intend for him to pay for that nasty little shock.

"Alright then."

With a quick step, Wukong appeared before the hero and rapidly jabbed his staff in his direction. Armsmaster leaped back, but arrowheads of lightning shot out of the golden-hooped staff, hammering against his blue armor. Each shock elicited a grunt from him, yet he still pushed through the pain and stabbed at Wukong. Sidestepping, Wukong extended his staff and Armsmaster jumped high into the air, evading his attack yet again.

'Keen instincts. Or is it something else?'

Before the armored warrior could pull another trick from between his plates, Wukong pulled his arm back and threw the staff in a wild spin, the speed forming a discus of lightning. Armsmaster summoned his shield again, but Wukong dashed as the weapon struck true, grabbed the staff midair and swung at the hero, sending him careening down the street. With another step, the world blurring past him, Wukong lashed out with his tail and wrapped it around the man before pulling him closer. A strangled cry erupted from Armsmaster's mouth as Wukong kneed him in the stomach and tossed him high up in the air. A mental command later and the staff extended, almost rivalling the electric pole in height.

From behind the translucent visor, Armsmaster's eyes widened as he desperately tried to right himself for a defensive posture, but Wukong knew he'd caught him off guard. The moment the hero's flailing body was level with Wukong's eyesight, the Monkey King unleashed a rain of fists, each one cracking the blue chestplate with the sound of an avalanche. Every time the blow would've sent the man flying, Wukong's tail pulled him back in. Finally, when the man's armor was on the verge of resembling crumpled paper, Wukong hopped in the air, grabbed his staff and raised it high, the heightened weapon now radiating with the force of a storm.

And thus, down came the thunder.

The ground trembled. Windows shattered. Birds cawed in alarm as their sight momentarily left them.

A gust of wind cleared the smoke, revealing the outcome to all. The soldiers who ambushed him remain frozen on the rooftops, untouched by the shockwave. Armsmaster, the proud warrior who conjured a foolproof plan for victory, now lay groaning in a scorched crater, his fabled armor rendered useless. Beside him, his halberds lay broken and fizzling.

'Quite the blow, Old Sun! An ounce of strength more and his ribs wouldn't even hold up his skin!' Wukong thought, rising from the ground unharmed. He walked over to Armsmaster's broken body and looked over the damage he'd dealt. 'Remarkable armor indeed. A shame his pride could not bolster his protection.'

He knelt down and gently prodded the man's head with his staff. "Can you hear me, or did this Old Sun rattle your brain too hard in that bone cage?"

Another groan was his reply, yet Armsmaster's head shifted ever-so-slightly to angle his visor right at Wukong's eyes. Had he possessed divine eyes, Wukong was certain he'd be dead on the spot.

As if.

"I tip my head to you in respect, warrior. Your cunning and prowess on the field are worth commendation. I've heard whispers of your prominence among the ranks of the local so-called heroes and I can assert that your actions live up to the stories." He tilted his head in amusement, gauging the limited response Armsmaster could give.

"However, your dogged pursuit of me and my disciple is proving rather annoying and disruptive to both her routine and the lives of the common folk here you claim to protect. The soldiers have the barest shred of discipline and composure. I would suggest reevaluating their positions amongst your ranks if they deem harassing shopkeepers a legitimate response to inquiring for my whereabouts." His voice hardened and he shook his head. "But if your ignorance or willful malice blinded you to the torment your own disciple inflicted upon mine for months, I should hardly be surprised. The actions of a master reflect on those under him as much as they do upon him."

Reaching out, he grasped Armsmaster by the helm and brought him closer to his face. "So here is my proposal: you leave me to my business and I shall not have to punish you and your men again. Perhaps if you act in a manner befitting of the heroic persona people claim you to hold, and the conduct of your subordinates proves righteous, my disciple shall approach you for assistance. Until then, I encourage you to reflect upon your actions. Are we in agreement?"

Armsmaster groaned, but he managed to straighten himself, ready to relay a response…only for a wave of lightning to flow from Wukong's hand and stun him into silence.

The Monkey King blinked, realizing what had happened to the excess electricity he hadn't transferred to his staff. "Oh dear, I must be more careful," he said with a hint of sheepishness. "Well, I believe I've made my point clear. Let's try not to repeat this fun yet tedious exercise, shall we?"

He patted Armsmaster on the cheek and gently laid him down. Summoning his staff from its jammed position, he shrank it back behind his ear and turned around. Glancing one last time at the defeated retinue, he idly waved.

"I hope the rest of your day shall prove more pleasant! Don't worry about your men, the spell will break…in a few hours."

Kicking the ground, Wukong leapt away from the scene and hopped across the rooftops. When he reached his dear host's shop, a patch of soot on his ebon robes caught his eye and made him frown.

"Hmm, a visit to seamstress Xiuying might truly be in order…" he rubbed the patch of cloth between his fingers. "Is there cloth that can mitigate damage from electricity? I'd rather avoid an accidental shock, lest any children be hurt."

After thinking about the matter of potential padding for his robes, he shrugged and entered the shop. He opened his mouth for a jovial greeting, but it stopped in his throat as he beheld the sight of Peizhi-xiansheng slumping over the counter and mumbling with such incoherence that he'd almost mistaken it for a sutra, and his dutiful disciple staring at his phone on the countertop with glassy and twitching eyes.

"Disciple, is there a problem?"

Taylor jumped out of the chair and sharply turned her head, a kalpa's worth of emotions cycling through her face.

"Master Wukong…did you really fight Armsmaster just now?"

"Yes, I did. I assume it was witnessed?"

"Uh…we saw the fight on the phone," Taylor said with a wavering voice. "Someone must've filmed it and posted it. When you started to…shoot lightning, Mr. Luo just…" her brow furrowed as she gestured with her hand to the dazed shopkeeper. "Shut down."

Wukong rubbed his chin. "That is concerning. His odd reactions have never proven so severe. I shall whip up a pot of tea. A dash of ginger will help enhance the flavor. That will surely rejuvenate him!" He made to head upstairs before stopping. "Would you care for a cup as well?"

"A cup?" she asked, before staring at the phone again, sounding more lost than Master Tang in the cliff roads of the mountains. "Um, okay, yeah, tea sounds good. Extra hot. Actually, I might need an entire pot."

'Such humor from my wonderful friends! Oh, what an exciting day this has been for you, Old Sun!'

Chapter Text

The two head demons were sitting there and drinking wine when the little fiends faced them and knelt down. Pilgrim alighted on the door frame and listened. "Great Kings," said the little fiends. "Have you returned?" said the second demon, putting down his cup. "Yes," said the little fiends. "Have you caught Pilgrim Sun?" he asked again.

The little fiends began to kowtow, not daring to make a sound. The old demon asked again, but they did not dare reply; all they did was to kowtow. Questioned again and again, they finally prostrated themselves on the ground and said, "Please pardon your little ones for the crime of ten thousand deaths! Please pardon your little ones for the crime of ten thousand deaths! When we took the treasures and reached the middle of the mountain, we ran into an immortal from Penglai Mountain. He inquired where we were going and we told him that we were going to catch Pilgrim Sun. When the immortal heard this, he said that he, too, was mad at Pilgrim Sun and wanted to give us assistance. We told him that there was no need for his assistance and explained how our treasures could store up humans. That immortal also had a gourd most capable of storing up Heaven. Moved by vain hopes and illicit desires, we thought we should exchange our treasures, which could only store up people, with his, which could store up Heaven. Originally, we wanted to exchange gourd for gourd, but Wily Worm decided to make good the deal by adding the pure vase. We had no idea that his immortal object could not be touched by the hands of the profane. Just as we were experimenting with it, it disappeared completely with the man, too. We beseech you to pardon our mortal offense."

When the old demon heard this, he was so aroused that he bellowed thunderously, "Undone! Undone! This has to be Pilgrim Sun who masqueraded himself as an immortal to dupe them. That ape has great magic powers and vast acquaintances. I don't know which clumsy deity has let him out, and he has wangled our treasures."

Journey to the West, chapter 34

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Topic: MONKE STOMP
In: Boards ► BBay's Monkey Business
Bruce Lao (Original Poster) (Cape Groupie)
Posted On Jan 4th 2011:
Okay, to anyone who's wondering what's all the ruckus, you are not gonna believe this.

Here I am, doing random shit on my PC and enjoying a gang-free day, then I crap myself when the PRT's steamrolling through the neighborhood, asking everyone to remain inside and close all windows. Closed down everything NE of Lord Street and Gulvin's.
I look outside and see PRTroopers take positions everywhere, and not long after...guess who's here but their newest embarrassment, Sun Wukong!

So I take out my phone and get to work.

What happens next...well, here:

[PLAY MEDIA FILE]

This is not CGI. This is not a staged event. This, my friends, is epicness unfolding before your very eyes.

...pfft. Hehehe...

What in the ACTUAL FUCK?!

Asspulling shenanigans and the biggest middle finger I've ever seen.
There is ownage. Then there's ownage. And then, there's ownage.

ALL HAIL THE MONKEY KING!

(Showing page 1 of 12)

►k0sr0n
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
Holy crap. He humiliated Armsmaster. You could see the guy's pride snap in half.

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
Reminder that recording and distributing footage of active PRT operations is a federal offense.

►Mr. Fabuu
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
lmao bro shut up. Arms got dropped like an old Nokia.

►Tumbles
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
ABB couldn't even touch this dude. And Armsmaster tried to hit him with the "smart plan" angle. Got turned into a cautionary tale instead.

►BadSamurai
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
He told Armsmaster off about "ignoring the torment of his disciple." What the hell does that mean? Who's his disciple?

►GangCruncher75
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
He's talking about that bullied girl from Winslow! The one who he kidnapped after the Shadow Stalker thing! I was there!

►LordOfBananas (shitposter)
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
"This Old Sun commends you on the mastery of Sunzi's teachings!"
LMFAO my man out here quoting The Art of War while turning Brockton Bay into a Dragon Ball episode.

►Noveltry (Armshead)
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
Let's not forget Armsmaster was holding back to avoid collateral damage. If he wanted to, he could've easily captured that villain.

►BaguWinner
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
Could've? Even after the beating he got from the glorious monkey god? Man got hit with his own attack and lectured on virtue. Sit down and save yourself the embarrassment, simp.

►Feychick
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
Man, first Lung, now this? And Wukong publicly humiliated Armsmaster on camera too.
At this rate, the poor guy's ego needs a containment field.

►Weld (Verified Cape)
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
I'm not supposed to say this but…yeah. That was rough to watch.

►Bruce Lao (Original Poster) (Cape Groupie)
Replied On Jan 4th 2011:
All I'm saying is: if the Monkey King ever drops merch, I'm buying three shirts.

►EyesoEars (Cape Groupie)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Okay, but can we talk about that golden freeze thing?
The character for "stop" literally appeared over everyone's heads.
That's some next-level Trump power, or some kind of weird reality warper stuff.

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
After reviewing the footage multiple times:
– Wukong displayed extreme mobility, deflecting small arms fire while under containment foam pressure.
– Physical resistance beyond normal Brute levels.
– Energy absorption and redirection.
– Temporal or neurological arrest effect ("Stop" seal).
...I don't think we're dealing with the average cape here

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 10, 11, 12

(Showing page 2 of 12)

►3kCaoCao (Mythomaniac)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
To my fellow Western posters losing it over "lightning monkey man":

He's literally acting out Sun Wukong, the Monkey King from Journey to the West. You know, the one who fought Heaven, stole peaches of immortality, and bullied gods?

Every line: "Old Sun," "Heavenly Generals," "staff from his ear," all in archaic Chinese...are straight out of the myth.

If this guy's for real, Armsmaster basically tried to outfight Buddha's problem child.

Spoiler: That didn't work for Heaven either.

►Tin_Mother (Moderator) (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Public service announcement:
The PRT-ENE is currently investigating the incident involving Armsmaster and Sun Wukong earlier today. Please refrain from spreading or downloading unverified footage.
Attacking a Protectorate member, regardless of circumstances, is a federal crime.
While we understand the community's curiosity, glorifying or encouraging such behavior only makes future cooperation between parahumans and civilians more difficult.
Thank you for your understanding.

►Point_Me_ _The_Sky (Verified Cape)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
…He was holding back?

I'm a little scared. On one hand, I got off lucky.

On the other hand, I want a rematch

►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Oh shit you actually fought him? That wasn't a rumor?
Spill the deets. How bad did he beat your ass?

►Logs
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
VoidCowboy, shut up. No asking for capes to spill deets.
Do you want me to call Tin_mother again?

►Ryus (E88 Hater)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Hey, uh, not to ruin the party, but word is the E88's been sniffing around again. Couple of white vans parked near the East End noodle shop, no plates.

If the Monkey King's really watching (and I know he is, man's everywhere), maybe swing by and give them the same treatment you gave to those Empire capes? They've been getting bolder since Lung went down.

Please. People here are scared.

►PRT_ENE_Official (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
This is an official message from the PRT ENE branch.

We are continuing to investigate the whereabouts of Taylor Hebert, a known associate of the cape "Sun Wukong." Any information on her location or current activities should be submitted directly through official channels.

Harboring or concealing a villainous parahuman is a federal offense. Citizens are urged to cooperate fully with ongoing Protectorate efforts.

►JDOnUBooks BB
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
PRT_ENE_Official You mean like how your troopers "cooperated" with my store earlier?

Because if "cooperation" means breaking my front door and threatening to drag me into a cell for not snitching, I'll pass.

Wukong just came by to read and left without breaking anything. You guys nearly cracked my shelves.

►MKChamp
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Yeah, seconding JDOnUBooks BB. Some of us saw what happened.

That bookstore's been here since before the ABB was formed, and now the owner's getting grilled because he allowed a 'wanted' customer in? Nice job making everyone real eager to help.

►AM16o
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Careful what you post here, folks. The brass is reading these threads.

But between us? Half the troopers weren't happy about that raid either. Orders came from upstairs, and everyone knows who gave them. There's talk about "containment optics."

►BadSamurai
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
You people come to our streets, break our doors, threaten our neighbors, and then act surprised when nobody talks.

If you want to find the girl, maybe start by treating the community like people and not suspects.

And if Old Sun's reading this: the people of East End remember kindness when they see it. You kept the gangs off our backs for weeks. That matters.

►Deadman
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Funny how the PRT talks about "public cooperation" when everyone knows what happens if you do talk: you either get "randomly inspected" or "brought in for questioning."

If I were that Taylor girl, I'd stay with the monkey too.

►ILovePie:3
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
No craters near my store, thanks.

But if he does show up again, I'm putting out incense.

►FruitSu
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Is it true Wukong reads stories to the neighborhood kids?

My son came home a few days ago talking about a "golden monkey uncle" who told them about a girl and a magic mushroom. Thought he was watching too many cartoons, but the other parents said the same thing.

►PeikLinLAH
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
We thought he was trouble when he first came to the park. But when the children laughed, and he laughed with them, even protected them from those ABB goons when they tried to kidnap one of them.

PRT calls him dangerous. The children call him Sun-shu-shu. Monkey Uncle.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 10, 11, 12

(Showing page 3 of 12)

►Temutai
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
My kids never liked bedtime stories; now they won't sleep without asking for "uncle Monkey's stories."

And honestly? I don't blame them. If someone like that's walking around, making the city a little brighter while the rest of us just try to survive, then let him.

Better a laughing monkey than another gang with guns.

►ArchmageEin
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Wait, so this guy goes from beating capes like it's nothing to babysitting neighborhood kids?

How does this dude have better PR than half the Protectorate?

►Chilldrizzle
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Because he actually shows up. Protectorate runs patrols, sure, but Wukong? He's at the markets, the parks, and I even heard he dropped by a local preschool. Don't ask, won't tell which.

He's just there, confirms what is really happening, and acts.

►BaoziEnthusiast (foodie)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Yeah, the kids call him "Sun-shu" now. Uncle Sun. He plays with them sometimes, shows them tricks and tells amazing stories.

Half the parents are nervous, half say it's the first time the kids smiled since Lung.

►AmanDY
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Okay, but has anyone actually told their kids not to talk to strange men with superpowers?

I get that he's friendly, but this is Brockton Bay. One bad day and "Uncle Sun" turns into a headline.

►JMingYu
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
AmanDY Believe me, we tried. But it's not easy when he's literally bouncing across rooftops and beating up thugs like an Asian vigilante.

He told my daughter, "be brave like me [him], the monkey who defied Heaven." No idea what that means, but she's been drawing monkeys ever since.

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
For the safety of all citizens, please discourage any direct contact with Sun Wukong.

While he has not demonstrated hostility toward civilians, his unpredictable abilities pose an ongoing risk. Please report any sightings to the PRT immediately.

Reminder: Harboring or encouraging interactions with unregistered parahumans remains a criminal offense.

►Temutai
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
Reave Yeah, good luck with that. You think the neighborhood's gonna rat out the guy who tells their kids bedtime stories and keeps the gangs off their doorsteps?

He's already more popular than Santa here.

►PeikLinLAH
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
We will stop when you stop scaring the children.

Old Sun protects them more kindly than your soldiers ever did.

►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:
So basically, the Asian district has its own superhero who babysits kids, tells them magic stories, and wrecks the gangs that come a-knocking.

Man, this city's wild.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ... 10, 11, 12

Director Emily Piggot's experience with pleasant days in Brockton Bay could be counted on two hands. There was always some crisis or bloodletting occurring in the cesspool of a city she'd been assigned to. Not just the latest body count from the gangs or the havoc from the Wards and the Protectorate, but the internal politics and low-key pandemonium festering within the ENE branch. There were calmer days, to be sure. A few small cases landing on her desk before sending them off, with only a phone call for an extra reminder. On rare occasions, the PRT's bureaucracy engine actually moved a case along without her needing to interfere beyond sending emails: monotonous and boring days, the dream of any director.

Most days were busy ones, usually involving sitting behind a desk, grilling Armsmaster or Miss Militia and being on constant standby in case bodies started dropping. Most men would've bailed, but Piggot held firm. Even if no one higher on the totem pole gave a shit, she'd hold down the fort as best she could.

Then there were those days. The sort of days where the metaphorical hammer came battering down the walls, resulting in migraines that not even three bottles of whiskey, two bottles of vodka, and all the liquid tar coffee pots in the Eastern Seaboard could ward off.

Unfortunately for her, this was one of those days.

"No one should have been recording anything," she stressed. "We issued warnings to close all windows and remain indoors until we gave the OK -"

"Clearly that failed, Director," replied the dark-haired Hispanic woman with a cutting edge. Even though not a single feature on her face twitched and she spoke through a webcam, Piggot knew her immediate superior wasn't happy in the slightest. Next to her, the icon of Dragon hovered, shimmering in green. "Otherwise, my computer's server wouldn't be in danger of crashing from the tsunami of emails inquiring about the ENE's operational status."

Piggot inhaled and fought hard to maintain her composure. A meeting with Director Costa-Brown was not what she wanted to go through at the moment, but the situation was spiralling out of control so much that she could no longer hide it behind half-baked excuses and 'mind your own business'.

"I attempted to apprehend a new and rising threat in this city. Using information the PRT had gathered over months of observation, I coordinated with Armsmaster and our Protectorate branch on a surgical strike designed to capture and remove the new threat from his territory. Apparently, our intelligence was…lacking."

"Severely lacking, if the video posted on every social media site means anything right now. And not some grainy footage we can quickly scrub and dismiss as a hoax, no, this was recorded in 720p high-definition." Costa-Brown leaned back and steepled her fingers, causing Piggot to clench her fists briefly. "So tell me, straight from the top, the chain of events that led to Armsmaster being royally humiliated and treated like a boxing dummy."

Renick straightened his tie and glanced at her worryingly while Ms. Militia stood with her hands behind her back, her posture tightening at the mention of her colleague's current condition. Thankfully, it was nothing irreparable with Panacea's help, but Armsmaster would be on medical leave for at least a week. Bones could be repaired, but the trauma of having them almost pounded into fine powder and a chest cavity in danger of sinking in didn't fade away instantly. The report was graphic enough to make her wince, which almost made her hesitate in confronting him with some of the...questionable orders he relayed. Almost.

Pressing some buttons on the small screen beside her, an image of Brockton Bay's newest migraine-inducer entertaining local children popped into view.

"Sun Wukong is what our latest cape calls himself. He made his debut three months ago by foiling an ABB robbery, although his first recognized appearance came later after calling out the entire gang and Lung with the subtlety of an air horn at a sports game."

"Which prompted Lung to attempt retaliation, only for Sun Wukong to display a level of strength you didn't anticipate and essentially oust him from his position over the ABB," Costa-Brown said. "I've read the reports. Do you have no new information on Lung's current whereabouts?"

"Unfortunately, no, Chief Director," Dragon replied. "We've sent underwater probes and cameras into the bay area where Sun Wukong took Lung before his disappearance, but so far, he hasn't been sighted within miles of the coast or the city. We have ears to the ground, but as far as we can tell, he's gone dark."

"But not dead?"

"We haven't ruled out the possibility, but what little evidence we managed to gather points in a different direction," Miss Militia chimed in. "We keep receiving reports of organized ABB activity, including several retaliatory strikes against the E88, but they've gone to ground as well. Our profile of Oni Lee doesn't indicate a desire for leadership, but he's the only one who has enough power and influence among the gang's ranks to corral them effectively. It helps that the gang hasn't made any overt power grabs or attacks against their rivals since their leader was humbled."

"So either he suddenly developed a craving for authority-"

"Or he's still taking orders," Piggot finished grimly. Personally, she hoped that son of a bitch was dead or permanently cowed at least. He might not have had a Kill Order slapped on him, but he wouldn't need much incentive to cross that line. His killing of two fresh Protectorate heroes from a few years back earned him an immediate Birdcage order and the enmity of every PRT branch on the East Coast. If he really was alive, then he wasn't just alive, but also pissed. And a pissed off Lung who's had months to stew, combined with the cape who knocked him down a peg openly strutting on his former turf, could only lead to bloody disaster. He even equipped his men (or instructed via Lee) with heavy-duty firearms that he normally couldn't access or didn't use, yet the big huzzah hadn't come. Yet."

"I'll alert our branches in Boston and New York, and maybe reach out to the Guild through Dragon. If Lung pokes his head out, we'll know," Costa-Brown said. "But we're getting off track. What else have you gathered on Sun Wukong? From what we've seen, your assessment of him is woefully incomplete."

Piggot pursed her lips and withheld glaring at the image of the monkey on the screen.

"I went over the leaked footage and sent it to our analysts in R and Watchdog, along with recordings from Armsmaster's equipment," Dragon said. "They've confirmed he possesses multiple powers, but they don't seem to have any internal consistency or theme between them. We first thought he was a Grab-Bag Changer, since most outward displays of his power involved pulling strands of his hair and transforming them into objects. His staff might be a more refined example, but then there's his cloning ability he used against Victor and Crusader, and a display of electrokinesis that wasn't shown anywhere else. Furthermore, he froze the entire PRT regiment surrounding him before engaging with Armsmaster, similar to Clockblocker but without the need for direct contact. The closest theory we have is that he's actually a Trump, with his hair strands serving as some kind of catalyst for his powers. There's also enough evidence to support our earlier theory of him being a Case-53, but there are inconsistencies which we cannot ignore."

"None of which you have been able to figure out yet." The Chief Director pointed out, to Piggot's chagrin. "If you are referring to his lack of an omega symbol and lack of amnesia, our own analysts suggest that his inhuman features are a side effect of his main power, not the primary link itself. Regardless, unless he shows a clear limit, his threat assessment will be increased accordingly."

Finally, a modicum of sense.

"Have your efforts in tracking him down yielded any new results from this fiasco, or is that another 'x' on the list?"

"...I'm afraid not, Chief Director." Renick glanced at her pleadingly, but her narrowed eyes warded him off.

"With all due respect, Director-" the Chief Director said.

What little of it that remained went unsaid.

"How can you not track down a talking monkey? One who regularly gets his picture taken?"

"He's avoided all of our surveillance and tracking attempts." The words tore through Piggot's teeth. "And he's shown great aptitude to avoid being seen when he doesn't want to. Dragon's been trying to get a bead on him, but her drones can't lock down his location, and the moment one of them spots him, he just disappears without a trace."

"We've used multiple cameras and detection softwares," Militia chimed in. "Full electromagnetic spectrum, motion, even a predictive algorithm. We actually got close with that one and managed to trail him for a minute before he destroyed the drone in midair."

"Destroyed one of Dragon's drones? How?"

"By throwing his staff at it, Chief Director. While sitting next to a nearby tree."

Costa-Brown turned her head and raised an eyebrow. "And you said he was subtle?"

"When he chooses to be, Chief Director. Otherwise, he doesn't seem to care," Dragon replied. "I'm working on drones with Tinkertech stealth modes and higher maneuverability, but unless you want me to send in proper mech suits, I don't know how they'll hold up against his rather uncanny ability to sniff out surveillance."

She nodded, then turned to Piggot and uncrossed her fingers. The blank look she sent her grated on the ENE director's nerves far more than she cared to admit. She knew she was being judged, and quite frankly, a small part of Piggot wanted to rub the facts in her face.

"How's Shadow Stalker?"

"We're waiting on the final process of her transfer," Piggot replied with a clipped tone. "For now, she's being detained with limited contact with the outside world. Her incident with Taylor Hebert and Sun Wukong renders her a flight risk and potential target for the gangs."

"And the wronged parties themselves," Costa-Brown added. "Good. Better we avert a future catastrophe. Alexandria will be disappointed that one of her recruits turned out to be a bad apple, but a posting in Alaska might help her rethink the error of her ways."

As if. She's a deranged little psycho all the way through. A useful psycho, but the point still stands.

"Deputy Director Renick, what's the fallout prediction on your end from Armsmaster's defeat?"

The bald man straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "We'd normally expect incursions from the gangs and a surge in crime…" his stern visage wavered. "But considering the last two incidents, we're not sure anymore. Wukong has made power plays on virtually every major gang in the city except Coil, and he's gone silent as well. We may see spikes in black-market smuggling and other under-the-table crimes, but predictions are up in the air as to whether any gangs will actually attempt to make a power move. In short, we're prepared for outbursts, but nothing beyond what we've already seen."

"And you would consider that a small mercy?" The Chief Director asked pointedly. "Our Boston branch intercepted scouting parties from the Teeth and the Elite seeking to probe Brockton Bay just an hour after the video was posted. Social media is a wildfire, painting your branch as incompetent thrice over, and the other Directors are considering pushing for an inquiry."

An inquiry? Oh, those fucking…

"If they have a problem with how we're running this operation, by all means, I'll roll out the red carpet!" Piggot exclaimed, her hands tightening. "I'm holding down this sinking ship of a city the best I can with what little I have! It takes a shitstorm like Stalker to actually kick someone out, but all my requests for reinforcements are denied! And the cherry on this manure-covered cake is a monkey who's done nothing but throw eggs on our faces! He unmasked one of our Wards, for Christ's sake, even if her conduct was unbecoming! The kind of situation that in any other circumstance would have every member of the Protectorate and the PRT declaring him persona non grata!"

"The situation is not ideal, that much I agree," Costa-Brown replied without so much as twitching at Piggot's rant. "Shadow Stalker would normally be protected by the Vikare Act, and many consider this provocation to be a breach of it. There have been talks about approving a joint task force to capture this wayward cape." A grin almost broke Piggot's composure, only for it to fall at her next words. "However, both footage from Armsmaster and online was examined, and several directors have rightly pointed out that Shadow Stalker unmasked herself. Wukong had no apparent knowledge that she was a parahuman and acted in the - while excessive - defense of an innocent, particularly in light of the testimonies gathered from Winslow's student body. Findings you yourself approved, in writing."

"The gangs don't care about those semantics!" Piggot countered, her face flush with rage. "Yes, I agreed that Stalker's unmasking was mostly self-inflicted, but the Empire and anyone else who's looking to undermine us will use the incident as an excuse! The unwritten rules go both ways, and we risk losing out on crucial parahuman manpower for Endbringer fights if we allow this incident to go unresolved. I'd prefer to avoid a repeat of Baltimore of '03, especially in this city."

Miss Militia and Renick flinched at the last remark, and for good reason. In 2003, an independent hero called Highlander, who'd grown friendly with the local Wards, decided to publicly unmask and beat up a villain. Unfortunately, said villain was a high-ranking enforcer of the Crips, one of the stronger gangs in the area. When the PRT offered Highlander protection, the Crips and Bloods acted in a rare display of unity and nearly burned the city to the ground, hunting down Wards and managing to cripple one, a young heroine of 15. The incident's infamy was used as further pressure to abide by the unwritten rules, lest even worse pandemonium occur.

"Wukong's victory over Armsmaster-" Oh, how it burned her to acknowledge anything that monkey did, least of all humiliating one of their heroes- "Might embolden villains, even ones outside Brockton, to force their way in with more than just probing parties. I wouldn't be surprised if Accord decided to offer his assistance to any of them."

The Chief Director's gaze remained impassive as Piggot heaved. The branch was running overtime to keep up the appearance of control, both on the streets and in the court of public opinion. 'She and the rest of the brass have to understand, Wukong's shenanigans were breaking dams that held firm against a flood of problems. Hell, even reckless idiots might decide to try and unmask villains by using Wukong as a standard, and no amount of legalese and status quo could protect those dominos from falling once tipped over.'

"Director Piggot makes a grave point, Rebecca," Dragon pointed out. "This sort of situation attracts huge vultures. If this is left untreated, it could swell out of control and fast."

"I see. What do you suggest for a course of action, Director Piggot?"

The heavyset woman straightened herself. "I stand by my view that if Sun Wukong is dealt with, the tensions in this city derived from his actions will disappear with him. We analyze exactly what went wrong with Armsmaster's tactics and plan a new ambush." She pressed a button on the screen and a video replaced Wukong's photo, showing him beset on all sides by PRT-issued containment foam sprayers. "Our troops managed to trap him, even for a moment. Before Lung's defeat, Armsmaster shared with me he'd been developing a weapon originally meant to subdue Lung within seconds. It's unfinished, but when he's released from the hospital, he can finish it. We'll need additional support from the Protectorate to ensure the plan's success, so ideally we'll have several heroes specializing in agile captures on standby. If we can trap him long enough, the weapon can be deployed to apply a high-level paralytic to Wukong, one that even his enhanced physiology can't shake. Then we can move him to a secure facility where stronger containment measures can be applied."

This time, Piggot's stare held an unwavering resolve, as did Renick's. Miss Militia seemed hesitant at first, but soon joined the two officials in unity. Throughout her speech, Costa-Brown hadn't moved a muscle, giving the impression of a Renaissance painting.

"...director, I understand that the stress of the situation may have gotten to you, and considering the scope of this debacle, I don't blame you. Nonetheless, it's my duty to ask: are you out of your mind?"

A choked noise escaped Piggot as her surprise morphed into indignation.

"Excuse me?"

"No, I won't. This whole plan seems like nothing more than a high-schooler's revenge scheme. You are asking me, and by extension, the entire PRT, to risk our already-fragile reputation on an all-or-nothing gambit against a cape who has proven time and time again he is more than capable of facing our best and the villains' worst. If this fails, and it has a high chance of doing so, that will be the blow we'll never recover from."

"Weren't you listening to a word I said!?" she shrieked. "If we take him down, the rest will follow! I've looked over the facts and determined this is the best course of action to move this city's expiration date away from the doomsday clock! Lung, Stalker, everything major that's happened in this city for the last three months ties back to Sun Wukong! With him out of the picture, we can regain the trust we lost to the public!"

"And that right there is where I realize you're utterly blind," Costa-Brown retorted. "If you go through with this, you'll do the exact opposite of what's dancing in your fantasies." She took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. "Since we're on the subject of public trust and goodwill…Miss Militia, you've reviewed footage from PRT troopers' bodycams with the squad captains. How cooperative were the civilians when the troopers asked them about Wukong's whereabouts?"

"Uncooperative, Chief Director," Miss Militia replied with veiled frustration. "Most of them claimed they had no knowledge of Wukong's present location, which I believe to be truthful. But when asked about further points of interest, they either responded in the same manner, evaded the question, or became downright hostile."

"I thought as much. The sweep was conducted in Brockton Bay's Asian district, correct?" At Militia's response, she turned to Piggot. "Can you think of any reason for the community's refractory behavior?"

"We've always had friction with the Asian community, even before the ABB assimilated or purged every Asian gang in the city," Piggot said tightly. "I'd hoped with their diminishment, the populace would prove more accommodating to our efforts, but I was mistaken."

The Chief Director finally broke her calm facade and sighed. "It appears you lack the insight to understand the landmine you're stepping on. Fortunately, I anticipated this and asked a specialist in these matters to help you. He was supposed to join us at the start, but he encountered an unexpected delay at work. I'm told he'll be with us any minute now."

A specialist? Piggot frowned. But who could even-

Her eyes widened and she felt her teeth gnash together. Oh no, you didn't.

Another window popped up on the screen, showing an obese man with gelled-back hair holding a can of energy drink. His square glasses and bulbous chin served to highlight his smug little grin as he stared at Piggot with a near-ravenous countenance.

"Sorry I was late, Chief Director. There was a junior who thought implementing his fantasies into a Ward's costume design was a valid assistance tactic. He'll be working at McDonald's for the foreseeable future, and the Ward has been fitted with a more appropriate costume. Hello to you too, Dragon. The new logo is stunning." After taking a swig from the can, his eyes flickered to the screen's corner. "And a good afternoon to you, Emily. Quite the pickle you're in, if what our Chief Director says is true."

"Glenn Chambers," Piggot hissed at the sight of that eyesore of a man. "What a pleasure."

The PRT's head of Image and Relations dipped his head. "Likewise. I've gotta say, Brockton Bay's always been a nightmare in the making, but you're one step closer to actually realizing it by setting off a powder keg we've been trying so desperately to put out."

"If you're done with the office banter," Costa-Brown cut in, looking thoroughly unamused and silencing Piggot's vitriol-infused choice words. "I feel like we all need a refresher on why the Asian community's reaction to the PRT was unfavorable."

"It'd be my honor, Chief Director. To tell you the truth, I've been looking for a good time to slot this in the memo of the day, and now it's been upgraded to a full presentation. I'll send the recording of this meeting to the other directors, with your permission. This matter concerns far more than one branch." He put aside the can and laced his fingers together.

"What's the socioeconomic status of the Asian-American community of the United States as of the year 2010?"

Director Piggot's eyebrows quirked at the question, but she tempered her reaction. "I'm not aware of the specifics. Demographic research was pushed in favor of more immediate and pressing matters."

"Coming from the city with one of the densest and most volatile of said communities, one would think that it should be a pressing matter," Glenn retorted. "Fortunately for you and the rest of the brass, that's why I'm here. Image and PR isn't just thinking about how to grease the wheels of parahuman acceptance; it's taking a long, hard look at the people and their habitual milieu, seeing what makes them tick and basing your plans on those findings."

"I've done plenty of research!" she protested. "Awareness campaigns, cyber counterintelligence, everything short of provoking capes into open warfare! It's part of the reason why the Empire hasn't been able to sink its claws as deeply into the city's white population more than it already has! The only reason the Empire has so much manpower is that it draws neo-Nazis from outside the state through Kaiser!"

"Yes, and kudos to you for that, I mean it," he replied, though his chiding tone further grated on her nerves. "Let me expand upon that statement: have you performed similar outreaches with the Asian community, or has Lung and his cronies scared you into considering them a lost cause?"

Piggot opened her mouth to retort, only for her to clamp down hard as she drew up a blank. There weren't as many outreach programs toward the Asian community, despite being listed as a high-risk population. There were a few PR stunts, including some Wards meetings, but they all faded into the annals of Brockton Bay's bloody history. The risk of angering Lung and Oni Lee by essentially flaunting themselves in their territory, thus leading them on even bloodier rampages, was deemed too high.

Glenn nodded with mock-sagging, a heavy breath escaping his nostrils. "Enough said. To put it simply, without rattling off numbers and statistics - that'll be in the report I'm emailing the branch directors - it's bad. Not Civil Rights Movement bad, but bad enough that if it's not addressed and treated with the appropriate care, we'll be dealing with a significant chunk of our populace with an axe to grind." He typed on his keyboard, and a chart was faintly reflected through his glasses. "The Asian-American community's been on a downward slope ever since they started emigrating to this country en masse. Every time it appeared they'd be accepted, fear, racism and paranoia reared their ugly heads."

Piggot's fingers drummed against her knuckles. She remembered enough from her history lessons to know what Chambers was referring to. The Chinese Exclusion Act, swiftly followed by the Japanese internment camps in WWII. The situation moved from worse to better to bad with the Vietnam and Korean Wars, adding new ethnicities to the melting pot of distrust, right alongside McCarthyism's crusade against all things communist, like the up-and-rising People's Republic of China.

"I've witnessed protests and read articles, Chambers, it's not new that national ideals don't run along to reality."

"Then you know just how badly this situation devolves. Flash-forward to 1990, and we have the fall of the Communist Party and the rise of the Chinese Union-Imperial."

A flag appeared on the screen, dyeing the room in vivid colors. An eastern dragon encircling a mountain under three yellow stars, atop a blue sea, on a halved field of red and yellow. Even Piggot, who wasn't versed in Far Eastern symbolism, didn't miss the blatant signalling. A mountain over sea and under sky. Zoomed out - the world.

"The Phoenix Empress of the CUI is quick to denounce the Maoists, claiming the Mandate of Heaven and declaring the Imperial lineage reborn to lead China from the ashes of shame. However, rumors spread quickly in this day and age, and stories of the Yangban are soon everywhere. Whispers of brainwashing, forced conscription of parahumans, and secret takedowns of leading politicians in neighboring countries. Then, the Lima bombings happen. All of a sudden, the eyes of suspicion turn to the CUI. If they could send agents as far as South America, what's stopping them from trying to infiltrate the States? They wouldn't even need to actually infiltrate the government or the PRT; they could simply ally with the growing parahuman gangs, most notably the Asian ones. Wariness and distrust flood the streets, and alienation soon follows, which leads to violent riots, ergo, more criminals and triggers. The problem endures for years, and just when the dust begins to settle…Kyushu happens."

He reaches under his desk and opens another can, drinking down its contents within seconds.

"An entire island, sunk beneath the waves like a modern-day Atlantis. Floods of refugees stream from Japan into the rest of the world. And like with any sudden influx of refugees, there's trouble processing them, and they congregate en masse in urban centres. There's sympathy at first, but sympathy's a fleeting coin. The same sneers and nasty whispers the Chinese received when they landed on the shores of San Francisco are now being dealt to the traumatized Japanese. Combined with the CUI and the Yangban's tales of horror, it leads to marginalization. Shopkeepers hike up shipment prices for Asian businesses, police place calls from Asian districts low on the list, rampant bullying of Asian children, the whole nine yards. The new refugees, not even citizens, desperate for a sense of belonging or to feed their families, turn to crime. New triggers arise and new gangs are formed, the most prominent being the Yago-Kai of Boston, who have carved for themselves a nice, fat chunk of the city. The PRT and the Protectorate react in their usual manner, and the higher echelons, wanting to avoid stirring the pot too much, push their issues away from the cameras. Your ABB is actually a perfect microcosm of this whole tide of events, now that I think about it. Thus, we end up with our current situation." Glenn scoffed into his can. "And people say history is a worthless subject to learn in college."

Piggot had sat down by then, her irritation toward Glenn Chambers now replaced with growing wariness. The Asian district was one of the least-frequented areas of the city by law enforcement, and while she was conscious of the simmering tensions between the two groups, she'd lumped it together with Lung's presence as the chief deterrent.

"Again, you're not saying anything new. I've repeatedly addressed the police about the crime response rate in the district, but I was stonewalled or given an excuse not worthy of a propaganda flyer. Since we're separate branches, there isn't much I can do beyond that. So as enlightening as this lesson is, what does that have to do with Wukong?"

Glenn hummed and tapped a finger on his table. "Rebecca, would you kindly show us that video of Wukong you sent me? The one where he's sitting with the kids?"

Costa-Brown nodded and a silent video clip soon appeared on the screen. In it, Wukong was sitting in a park, surrounded by children of elementary and middle school age, talking and moving animatedly. He blew into his palm, sending out yellow sparks around his audience, causing them to clap and cheer. In the distance, she spotted a couple of would-be parents watching the little act, with much less fear and suspicion than she expected.

"What do you see here, Emily?"

"...Wukong sitting with kids. He sometimes comes to that park and plays around with them, telling them Chinese folk tales," Piggot replied. "We know he does that, which is why I ordered the ambush to be staged far away from there to avoid needless casualties."

"Silver linings, indeed," Glenn said, to her consternation. "You know what I see? I see perhaps one of the greatest PR masterstrokes in the past ten years."

Piggot felt her jaw drop as she stared at the obese man incredulously. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I confess, I'm lost too," said Renick.

Miss Militia also didn't appear to catch the joke either.

Glenn rubbed his hands eagerly and a glint flashed in his eye. "Strap yourselves in, boys and girls, this is a good one. Imagine this: you are an Asian-American living in Brockton Bay. Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, it doesn't matter. You might have a wife, a kid or two, or even just friendly neighbors. Living under the silent shadow and iron fist of a powerful villain, paying tribute in hopes that his minions, which he regularly recruits from the youth around you, don't ruin your life any more than it already is. The cops don't care, the heroes walk on eggshells and treat your problems as a non-issue in fear of stepping on that madman's toes, all while a gang of neo-Nazis headed by an army of villains live right next door and would like to do nothing more than wipe out you, your friends and family from the face of the Earth. By day and by night, you keep your head down, pay your dues, struggle to eke out a steady living and pray that any of these powers that be don't decide to rain hell upon you and yours, be it to show off or as collateral. A shitty life in a system that keeps taking and taking, masquerading as pastel comic-book salvation."

"Then, one day, a brand-new cape shows himself and proceeds to shatter the hold the villain had on you within a day. No burning half the city, no squads of PRT commandeering every building and street to try and score a point on the eternal villain-hero tallyboard; the cape simply spins his staff and serves him so much humble pie he chokes on it."

He raises a finger. "It gets better: this cape, who, despite acting like a nutcase and a troll, spends time with the children you feared would end up on a tombstone or in a drug house and entertains them. Not borne from a staged event or a PR ploy so obvious even naked mole rats could look and tell it's fake, but from a simple desire to entertain and bring happiness. Take a look and tell me if any of his performances are staged. I've been in the business long enough to know when something is makeup on a pig and when something is genuine."

The video played again, but this time it was with sound. Laughter and giggles blasted from the speakers as Wukong told his story. His laughter, reminiscent of his mockery of Armsmaster, raised Piggot's hackles, but even she couldn't deny that it bore far more passion and excitement than most PR events the Protectorate held and not headed by Assault.

"...it seems convincing enough. It could be just an act."

"Doesn't matter," Glenn retorted. "What's important is that the Asians believe that, finally, a hero is in their camp. He doesn't just kick the bad guys into orbit and call it a day; he hangs around, brings them joy, and understands them. Literally." Several images of Wukong hanging around the Asian district popped up on the screen, mostly of him goofing off with the locals reacting with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "And he's Asian, just like them! Speaks native-level Chinese - multiple dialects, mind you - Japanese and English with a fluency I don't witness in professors who study these languages for years! To top it all off, he literally could not have chosen a more perfect persona to don."

"Persona? You mean his cape name?" asked Renick. "Armsmaster debriefed us that Sun Wukong is the name of a Chinese deity and the main character of a famous Chinese novel, both of them anthropomorphic talking monkeys. So what? There are plenty of capes that derive their names from mythological sources."

Glenn sighed deeply, a touch of irritation leaking into his frazzled visage. "Have you done any research into the name 'Sun Wukong' other than reading the first paragraph of a Wikipedia synopsis?"

Silence suffocated the room, and Piggot held her ground against the stares drilling holes into her forehead. When reflecting on it, she had to admit it was a shortsighted move. Researching every aspect of a potential villain was standard operating procedure. But there was too much on her plate, and she'd been so focused on Wukong's antics and his batshit powers, she pushed to the side every other aspect of him.

"Thought so. Then allow me to elucidate: Sun Wukong is one of the most beloved figures in all of East Asian folklore, and even outside of that sphere. A monkey trickster god, he became prominent in the 16th-century novel Journey to the West and in the centuries since then, he's become a household name. Countless media portrayals have been made of him, both here and on Earth-Aleph. You won't find an East Asian who hasn't heard of his exploits in one form or another."

"The same could be said for other mythological figures, like Odin, Ra, and Zeus," Militia pointed out. "Plenty of people have heard of them, and outside of misused Nazi propaganda, no one pointed out issues when facing villains who took their likeness or the likeness of any figure related to them."

"Yes, but the difference in this case is that Sun Wukong isn't a pop-culture figure from a dead culture we extoll and fantasize about," Glenn countered. "In many Asian communities, he's still actively worshipped and revered. It's the equivalent of a cape calling himself an avatar of Shiva, bearing blue skin and a Trishula, appeared in the Hindu-American communities and started basing himself there." He paused, then shook his head. "No, too religious. Wukong manages to straddle that fine line between folklore and actual worship."

"If that's true, won't that offend the same people he's surrounding himself with?" Piggot asked. "The PRT's received a lot of flak for styling capes similarly. If recall, there was an uproar from the right-wing against a Protectorate hero's debut when he chose an angel motif and his name was revealed to be 'Raphael'."

She couldn't help but smirk at Glenn's slight bristling. "I admit that was not one of Image's finer moments, but in our defense, his powers gave us limited wiggle room and he was a devout Christian. But Sun Wukong straddles the line between actual figure of worship and folk hero enough for him to avoid misappropriation, as long as he does it right. And from what I've glimpsed? He's doing a pretty bang-up job. I've half a mind to come down there and ask him to give lectures to the men in my department." He then snorted. "It's not like he has much competition. There are barely any Asian-American heroes under both the Protectorate and the Wards, so of course the disillusioned populace is going to flock to the first one who doesn't look like an obvious boondoggle. You'd expect that a city with a prominent Asian gang would have an Asian hero to serve as a proper counterexample, but I'm willing to chalk that up to shitty luck and Lung eliminating or recruiting future threats before they could reach out to you."

Piggot drummed her fingers on the desk as she processed Glenn's dissection. The burn of not properly researching Wukong stung even harder. Armsmaster mentioned the figure's prominence in passing, but she surmised it was limited to some posters and little figurines on desks. Clearly, her presumption was proven wrong in the worst way possible. To hear that Wukong had the moral and spiritual backing of a huge chunk of the city's population was not optimistic in the slightest.

"So the situation is precarious beyond belief. What do you suggest we do?" Renick asked.

"Simple: absolutely nothing," said the Chief-Director, fully glaring at her audience.

Piggot's jaw dropped again, and her blood boiled. "Nothing!?" she yelled. "Our reputation was thrown in the trash and you want us to sit back and take it?"

"I find myself agreeing with the Director, Rebecca," Dragon said, her voice tighter than usual. "Armsmaster is a central pillar of Brockton Bay's Protectorate branch. Allowing a villain who trounced him so badly to walk scott-free won't look good, no matter whose eyes they belong to."

"As Glenn kindly pointed out, Sun Wukong has maneuvered himself into such a position that another attempt at his capture would backfire horribly. We'd lose what little trust we have with the Asian community and it could escalate to full-on economic strikes and riots, which would inflame the E88 and invite other gangs to partake in the chaos. The best option currently is to gather intelligence and observe from a distance. Barring an actual emergency, direct all PRT and Protectorate efforts away from Wukong and the Asian district. Once the PR landscape has cooled down and we've addressed any issues arising from Armsmaster's defeat, we can reassess our strategy, perhaps even extending an olive branch of cooperation to salvage some cordiality. Until then, handle Sun Wukong with porcelain tweezers."

"You're talking about giving up," Piggot whispered harshly.

"I'm offering you the path of least suffering, and I hope you tread it lightly. It's not as though I'm asking you to collaborate with a hardcore gangster; for all of the headaches he's caused you, he hasn't committed any truly serious crimes compared to the ABB. If anything, his presence serves as an active deterrent against them. With such a low crime rate, he could be knocked down on the priority list, and you could devote your efforts to curbing the E88's influence for good." Costa-Brown leaned forward with hardened eyes. "Am I clear on this matter?"

Piggot squeezed her fist so hard she thought she'd drawn blood. This was spitting in the face of everything she'd sworn to uphold. Not even with the other gangs, past and present, was she told to completely back down.

This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

But right now, her hands were firmly bound.

"Crystal," she spat. Costa-Brown locked gazes with her for a few moments longer before nodding and reclining in her seat.

"Good. For now, focus on curbing retaliation and expansion efforts from the Empire and Coil. If their response is as uncertain as you claim, your vigilance cannot dawdle." She turned and dipped her head to the left of the screen. "Thank you for the lecture, Glenn. I'll ensure your findings on this subject are forwarded to all relevant parties."

"Always a pleasure, Rebecca," he replied with faux-modesty before addressing Piggot. "I hope I won't have to come and help you put out another wildfire, Emily. Also, did you even read the novel starring our simian cape's namesake?"

"No, I was busy reading up on the latest reports in Casualty Magazine and the Sunday special on Racial Riots," Piggot deadpanned.

"Shame. If you or Armsmaster had even bothered to read the first few chapters, that ambush could've gone down far more differently and we wouldn't be having this riveting conversation," Glenn riposted, then shrugged. "Oh well. I wish you luck for next time, if there is one."

His feed disconnected and the Chief Director's glare morphed into a glower.

"Don't screw this up, Emily. We can't afford to lose this city."

With those words, her feed was cut off. The lights came back on, and the only sound left was Piggot's controlled breathing.

"Um, Director?" Renick asked, edging away lest he be caught in the outburst. "Should I update the orders?"

Piggot's head swiveled with a venomous edge, but she reigned herself in with a deep breath. "Yes, do that. Update the rules of engagement and hammer down the 'observe-only' part to our informants in the district. Redirect all resources as necessary."

The bald Deputy Director straightened himself before giving a firm nod. With some tension leaving her shoulders, Piggot headed out of the conference room with the two heroes in tow. As they walked down the halls, Miss Militia made another concern known.

"Director? What do we do about Taylor Hebert?"

Piggot froze before cursing inwardly. Neither she nor Costa-Brown addressed that issue in the meeting. Not that there was much she could do, outside of informing her father about their attempt. Toned down, of course, with the standard boilerplate, even though it wouldn't fool him for long. As long as the girl was with Wukong, she was out of their…reach…

'Hm…I'd have to consult our Image staff here…but if this could work…'

The gears began whirring in her mind. "Maintain our usual efforts. Locate only. I might have a solution to salvage some of this mess."

"What solution?" Militia asked, keeping up with ease.

"If we can frame this right, we might be ready to welcome a new Ward. A redemption story on our part, eager to help and support a youth jaded by the system by restoring her faith in it," she rattled off as she marched at a quick pace to her office. "With luck, we'll be able to glean some information on Wukong from her. I'll need Legal to whip up a knockout pitch for the father, but if we emphasize her being a prime target for the gangs, including out-of-town ones who've watched the leaked video of the Stalker mess, he should prove compliant."

"Are you sure about this?" the heroine beside her asked as they entered the elevator. "We don't know anything about Taylor's disposition outside of her father's testimony, which is questionable considering how our analysts point out the distance between the two since her mother's death."

"It could kill several birds with one stone. We gain a new Ward, either here or to be traded with another city, acquire more intel on Wukong, deny the gangs a cape, pacify and shut down those annoying Youth Guard reps camping at our doors on both sides of the spectrum, and show everyone we aren't some Saturday-morning government screw-up."

The elevator stopped and they soon arrived at Piggot's office. She marched ahead, prepared to draft several emails to the relevant departments and draw up a revised Ward contract. Her secretary perked up as they approached and stood from her chair.

"Director, there's a package waiting for you inside. It's from the Chief Director."

What? Already?

She opened the doors and noticed a cardboard box on her desk. Miss Militia immediately stepped forward and approached the package with careful steps. Once giving it a look-over, she nodded.

"It's clean. I recognize her handwriting."

She removed the top and peered inside the box. Piggot watched as Miss Militia blinked before an unreadable expression crossed her scarved face. "...director, you should see this."

Slightly confused, Piggot nonetheless obliged the heroine and approached the box. Militia took out its contents and placed them on the desk: a bundle of four books, wrapped in twine. On each spine, the title read:

Journey to the West, Unabridged English translation.

In four volumes. Each one is as thick as her arm.

"There's also a note from her."

Militia handed her a piece of paper, which she almost ripped from her hands. It was dated just days before she gave Armsmaster the green light for his ambush. As her eyes trailed down its length, she fought the urge to rip it in two.

Director Piggot,

I've read your reports regarding this new troublemaking cape in your district, and I thought you should peruse this recommended reading material. Glenn Chambers went through those same reports and reinforced my decision. I'm unaware if this book is available in the local library, and it's limited in stock, so I took the liberty of purchasing the full set. You should find some useful information inside. I suggest you read through the entirety of the set before sending me your findings.

Signed,

Rebecca Costa-Brown,

PRT Chief Director

She glared at books, willing them to spontaneously combust. Who on earth even had time to read this much!?

"...would you like me to scan the books, ma'am? Send them as a PDF?"

"That…would be highly appreciated."