A few collapsed buildings, shattered streets, and assorted craters. The place is mostly empty, with scattered groups of mostly humanoid monsters roaming and trying to escape the guarded fence around the city. The most instantly noticeable change is an ongoing wordless singing in the back of the mind of anyone present. By itself it's just a sound. An unpleasant sound, and almost but not quite predictable as if someone were trying to attack the listener's sanity without saying anything, but possible to ignore. But along with it, any time a listener closes their eyes they get flashes of memories. Not their worst memories, but whatever negative ones can stick with them unforgettably. It builds up associations between the feelings in those images and almost anything else. Sometimes there's a recognizable common thread and other times there isn't.
An angel fights off teams of opponents. She's fifteen feet tall, extremely winged, with more wings than is strictly necessary for an angel. Even some of her wings have wings. All of them are asymmetric and varyingly sized. A spherical halo of weaponry surrounds her, firing at her more distant enemies from across the battlefield. Her opponents cycle in and out: a golden man, a man surrounded by a bubble, a woman in a dark costume, all flying. Others make certain to stay away after taking their turn, on rare occasions spending too long hearing the angel's music. Those ones voluntarily self-destruct.
A small group of ordinary humans takes refuge in a house as far from the battle as they can reach. The song is quieter here, and, they hope, less potent. Some of them run away from and back to the house, occasionally calling for help. They haven't found any.
And of course most of the Internet is pseudonymous anyway.
Kithabel makes a brief post that she would very much like to hire some person but is a little too busy to conduct a lot of interviews and if the Internet would like to condense the relevant credentials - a lot - she may get around to looking into them.
Credentials are the one thing groups of people who talk under pseudonyms are least able to assess. But the masses do what they can. One frontrunner is a forum regular who is thereby as trustworthy as possible under the circumstances, another is a newcomer with inordinate amounts of research and the best track record of having Kithabel adopt their suggestions, and so on.
Well, getting it down to two people isn't that bad. Kithabel gives them both her email address and invites them to send her their pitch. Briefly, please.
The first person is perfectly happy with their current job and just got a raise, and is flattered their Internet compatriots nominated them but no thanks.
Second person gets a trial run. What would they like to be paid in? Kithabel probably shouldn't be counterfeiting fiat currency.
Or if Kithabel doesn't like the idea of picking jobs based on who happens to have money, objects transmuted into rhodium are still valuable.
Kithabel doesn't mind picking the occasional job based on who happens to have money, as long as she can't just do literally everything. She notifies the PA of her variety requirement, quietly asks Amy about the value of a dollar because adding a little more blackmail material here isn't likely to hurt anything, names a generous salary, and leaves it to the PA to make sure that at least that much is coming in.
Over time she'll continue doing less in Brockton Bay, and start making occasional forays as far as New York for particular tasks. She may end up gradually migrating around New England without having a well-defined center of operations at any given time.
That's fine. She doesn't sleep anymore and doesn't need to worry about dragging a sluggish flying castle after her. She's started occasionally trying to teleport, although she hasn't managed it yet.
The cape world continues to mostly just politely coexist with Kithabel, but Director Piggot does ask if she's planning to participate in the next Endbringer fight.
"Yes, I think so, although I might have to leave briefly if it goes on a long time and my tactics wind up repetitive."
It may even be worth backsliding some, in an Endbringer attack where each minute means lives."
"I can afford hours, longer with a couple of breaks, and I can rotate between healing and fixing infrastructure and attack and transport and defense and go longer that way, but if I slide back too much I might get killed. I'll hold up better defensively if I know in more detail" or any detail "what to expect to be facing."
If it's Behemoth, the lightning and radiation are his main weapons as well as his most obvious ones. The more people you can protect the better. There exist capes who can let others go into his radius safely, but if you can give the defenders a sufficiently absolute defense, you'd be the only one who could do it in any numbers. And don't bother trying to blind him; the eye is a decoy.
There isn't very much that's known, of course. They usually have a goal, that's something we don't tell the public, and if anyone figures out what it is then we have an advantage. Last time we didn't guess it was Professor Haywire until too late."
"Okay. I'm not at an information-gathering advantage, but I can help with the obvious combat and collateral damage."
Well, mostly normal. One night she does run into some capes engaged in in their preferred activity. In retrospect it was only a matter of time; would have been strange if that never happened. One is that plant-themed supervillain, surrounded by half-bear-half-tree monstrosities. They aren't very controlled, damaging anything less tough than a brick wall as often as they strike at their enemies. The only potential target who doesn't get attacked is their creator.
Their opponents are a pair of even more villainous-looking capes. One has a suit loaded with spikes and barbs, and doesn't appear to have any qualms about wielding deadlier weapons. On second glance, five fit that description, then fifteen. Some kind of a duplicator power. The duplicates fare poorly against the monsters. The third cape is both wearing and wielding chains, with some power not immediately obvious allowing him to make progress against the drop bears one at a time.
Kithabel turns invisible on noticing that this is going on at all. She double-checks that these people are all villains on the Internet.
The guy with the ambulatory whatevers is; Blasto singlehandedly took over East Allston last spring. The duplicator is Spree, one of the more visible and violent members of a local gang, but his ally is harder to find information on in any reasonable time.
Of course this still leaves the non-people running rampant, as both bears and trees are harder to put to sleep than humans. They keep destroying whatever comes closest to hand until stopped, and for some of them this means their opponents.
Those can... float in midair unable to move, then, she isn't sure if they're the sort of thing she wants to destroy. And then she fixes all the everything, including the injured capes, and then she beads the nearest PRT director who has a bead with the location and situation.
Director Armstrong can't claim to have been expecting this, but it's a welcome surprise. He'll have a containment van there in minutes.