A/N: And now, back to the main plot!

Also, seeing as how we're dealing with Cerilian races this time around, I suddenly realize how similar to Warhammer Fantasy Birthright is at times, if Warhammer Fantasy had something resembling the ability to permanently change the world for the better. So, even more like Worm than I realized. Awesome.

Aspirant 3.3

By now, the stare-off between Yamada and Tybalt had grown rather uncomfortable.

Which was remarkable, given how I wasn't in the room, just getting stuff over the familiar bond. I could tell they were staring at each other blankly, with Tybalt being completely unsure of what to say.

Truth is, she wasn't happy when she realized I had been pressuring him to get therapy himself. She knew about him, of course (she was overjoyed and relieved upon realizing he was a separate existence from me, with his own thoughts and feelings), but she really didn't like that I was, and I quote, "pressuring him to do something he doesn't want."

The fact that I had arrived with the scowling cat sith under my arm and asking for him to have an appointment probably had something to do with that. I accepted the blame.

Didn't apologize, though. I saw there was a lot of issues rolling around in Tybalt's mind, issues that could easily drag us both down. Why he refused to acknowledge another name of his was a big one, but the sheer amount of guilt in his past...I was honestly worried about his sanity, now, especially given how calm he tried to present himself as, normally.

She relented though, when I pointed out how he reacted to Cordelia's threat. Or that I didn't detect a lie when she mentioned wondering about a potential danger. If Tybalt had something that he would snap over, I needed to smooth that over before he hurt someone during a breakdown.

I really shouldn't have been listening via the empathy link, either, but I justified it in that there really wasn't that much I could get over the empathy link.

As of now, I realized just how accurate that was. Either Tybalt was not a very emotional person or he was deliberately trying to hide...no, it was the first. I doubted it was possible to control emotions that well.

Particularly if the control was from "unhappy" to "defensive" to "defensive and unhappy," then to "unhappy" again. The silver lining, such that it was, was that I suddenly understood why Yamada wasn't eager to treat an unwilling patient. Now only if I didn't feel frustrated that I couldn't listen in and guilty I tried.

Thirty minutes later (she really didn't have the time for a sudden appointment), a depressed-looking Tybalt and a confused Yamada came out.

Before I had a chance to ask: "I don't have a frame of reference," she bluntly stated. "He's not human, and I don't have a good baseline for what's considered normal for his species."

...I should have seen that one coming. But still; "He doesn't act that alien."

"His emotions aren't. But he...let him explain. If he wants to," she quickly added.

Tybalt's anger at being dragged into therapy had cleared up, leaving him looking just glum now. "I do. I've needed to, but…"

He inhaled.

"Agathions are naturally selfless. Our empathy is, by human standards, overactive and self-destructive."

A few seconds as I thought on this, and double-checked with the snakes.

"...Please don't say that you're naturally superior to us," I replied, a little pained. I had enough of that from bad science fiction and fantasy, especially when the person claiming that was right (in-story).

"No, no, not that at all. I…" He sighed. "I mean that literally. It's considered a sign of mental illness in our culture to put yourself ahead of a total stranger, for instance, or avoid trying to understand the viewpoint of a person you know or even a rival. In fact, the reason I defaulted to supportive behavior when I met you was that, on a basic level, I can't consider not trying to make other people happy. Unless I'm mistaken, humans actively decide to do so in a peaceful setting."

It took me all of five seconds to understand why that would be troublesome to a human therapist focusing on self-esteem issues, depression, and parahumans. "...Ah."

"And until I get a better handle on how an agathion thinks, I can't even begin to unravel how their depression works. Feelings of being unworthy compared to other people may be considered healthy and normal. Given how he states the familiar bond is willingly giving up a lot of autonomy, and he apparently doesn't see any issue with this…" She shrugged. "Most of what I have is just...not applicable."

She locked eyes with me. "And why you assumed I could help him with his issues in one session, I have no idea." The sin-scent happily chimed in the obvious implication; don't force the issue again.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to catch my emotion reading. I suspected she would have..words for that kind of attempted further control over the life of a friend.

I looked down. "I'm sorry. To both of you," I quickly added. Lie, my sin-scent chimed in. I was honestly more sorry to Yamada than Tybalt.

Apparently Yamada had a bit of scent of her own. "Taylor...why is it that you believe his problems affectyou?"

"Because we're a team," I stated, bluntly. "He's the source and medium of a lot of my powers. The thing is...he's not very open as a teammate, is he?" I glared very pointedly at him.

He did nothing except inspect his tail. And as it turned out, the emotion circuit is excellent for making one feel bad when the guilt came over.

"...Next week, you're sharing an appointment with Dr. Lloyd. And please don't spring this kind of thing on anyone else?" Still holding her head, Yamada went back to her room.

I turned to Tybalt, trying to think of something to start a conversation with. He obviously wasn't in the mood for it.

"...Boy, I'd hate to be one of you when con men are about," I began, strained. And now I probably insulted his species. Great.

If he was offended, he brushed it off before the link picked it up. It did snap him out of his funk, though. "Funny thing is, the more trusting someone is, the better they are at smelling rats. Scientific fact - we've had more experience at being burned, so we know what the danger signs are."

That...made a lot of sense, actually. "Huh. That would explain conspiracy theorists acting like sheep."

"Precisely. When someone is afraid of the world, they look for someone to protect them from it. If you pretend to do so..."

I wasn't used to seeing people with chains in their skin happily tour the corridors of the PRT, but as they grew used to their surroundings over the week, the kytons started to get...normal.

Not coincidentally, I had the revelation that "normal" was kind of a bullshit concept to begin with.

Truth is, it seemed that whatever really cheesed off Tybalt about kytons, it wasn't their manners. Cordelia was about the most resolutely easygoing adult I had ever met in my entire life.

"No, no, nononononohshiiiiit!"

Unless there was a beaker about to explode due to my incompetence.

Thankfully, both of us had something other than goggles to protect ourselves with.

"And that, kids, is why we don't put sulfur in before extract of aconite." My teacher's chains lowered, shaking out the glass. "Need tweezers?"

"No, my wings have tanked worse. Glass bounced right off of them." I checked. "Mostly," I amended, noticing a particularly large bit had gotten stuck in a joint. I quickly took the hemostats and gingerly started to pull it out.

"Before you ask though, I'm not mad," she continued, plucking out stray bits of glass from her chains and running them through a reader. "Frankly, symbolic logic is fun to absolutely nobody - by all rights, the actual items should be toxic, but not only is this an agonist for healing injuries, but apart from the, uh, obvious, this isn't even toxic." She sighed. "This is why intuitive knowledge of magical chemistry is considered a proper hex rather than a natural knack."

"Guess the quick option of arcane...ergh.." Man, that thing did not want to leave. "...Wasn't the cheap one. Wonder how many wizards...gah…" I suspected overactive regeneration may have been involved. Happened before, with Chubster - I remembered a horror story Amy told me about trying to negotiate his instinctive mass manipulation with her own power to remove a bunch of shotgun pellets. "...blow themselves up."

After that particular embodiment of all that was sharp and painful in the world was yanked out, I looked back at Cordy. "Doesn't mean you should be doing this without some protection." Hell, I only went in without wing protection because I couldn't find anything apart from some towels.

"I have these, don't I?", she said, smirking as she tapped the chains and goggles. "Everything else is where you consider, oh, flesh wounding. Especially given kyton 'build a nervous system' bodies."

"Uh...huh," I replied, skepticism as clear as I could make it. "Doesn't mean the beaker is less toxic for it. In potential," I quickly corrected.

"Eh, but you're immune to toxins anyway," she said, tossing me a cleaning rag. "So what hypothetical deadly poison so made is my issue, not yours."

"...We were using wolfsbane. Do you know how it got that name, here on Earth?"

She paused in the middle of getting another beaker. "...No?"

"Well, once upon a time, a bunch of farmers had some trouble with the wild, largely carnivorous relatives of dogs…"

An impromptu history of pest control later, the normal cheer of my tutor abated. "...poor wolves.'

The cheer returned. "But, I'm a scientist. If I want to understand something fully, I need to experience it." With that, her chain fetched a stoppered vial of a yellowish liquid. "Universal antidote, right here. If I start feeling the effects of poison, survival to use my new wisdom is only a sip away."

I rose an eyebrow. "...Thank you for giving me that perspective on the parts of Baator that are underwater, radioactive, or still smoking."

She snorted. "Yeah, I suppose that is rather reckless to a person who doesn't have access to 'goddamn miracles' levels of medicine." She shrugged. "But, I digress. Now, class, let's begin with the purification of the beaker again…"

What was not normal, even given how increasingly odd that term was given the alien ship parked in the bay and various crew running errands (mainly drills - there was a big stink when a portion of the park was cordoned off for their war games), was the fact that some of them...kept popping up. More specifically, a single "type" of baatezu.

The greenish humanoids, the ones that came in many sizes and many coverings of body hair, kept on appearing near me, in specific. I mean, crime didn't stop just because there were aliens about. The E88 was held back by Kaiser if I heard the briefings (and did the odd screen-reading jobs for Officer Bennett on the lookout for crimes in preparation) correctly, but according to the ABB, this simply meant there was less contestants for the territory that the vanished Merchants left (I supposed Lung knew a free lunch when he saw one. Might actually be good for the poor place, at least in comparison). So, mostly them for me, plus muggers and the occasional complete idiot (also known as alien hate criminal).

Such as the one the "friendship building team", as I and Dennis snarkily called any attempt to mend the rift between Sophia and me through mutual team membership (it had to happen eventually) were pursuing now.

"Goddamn...fucking…molotov!" I screamed, mending the broken glass repeatedly to fix it into a form that did not involve shrapnel in my currently-useless leg. "Clock, can you handle this?"

My teammate nodded, his fingers dancing around the panic button of his cell (utter heat immunity or not, it was sheer luck that bottle was aimed at me), leaving me to fully extract the glass. Unfortunately, I had already used my other, more directly useful (and easily depleted) healing spell on one of the bomb victims. Didn't want to spoil one of my better tactics on helping me.

"Tybalt? Need a little help here-"

"On it." Paws rubbed together, then with a flash of light, a bit of sensation came back to my leg, followed by him willing the blood flow to stop. "Found crow, it said that the bomber is trying to double back. We prepare that illusion jugglery?"

"Good plan." I pointed the spear at the bombers, willing a rather thick fog, filled with half-shapes, into being. Tybalt then followed it up by willing a couple balls of light to appear in the hands of the figures.

In other works, a faked smoke bomb with faked flashlights. True to form, my attacker and a couple of his buddies stormed out...right into the alley Stalker had camped. A few arrows later, I felt a surge of vindication as the would-be terrorists fell over.

The tangential part of my mind briefly wondered if the evolution of that healing ability, combined with demonstrated telepathy with nonsapient animals, had anything to do with agathions' inherent selflessness. I put it out of mind, on the basis I hadn't heard the all-

"Got the last dumbass," Clockblocker's voice came over the radio. "Thought he could take the time stopper in hand-to-hand combat."

And this was why I didn't think highly of the Roaring Xenophobe Brigade. Frankly the people who reacted to new things with 'I MUST EXTERMINATE' were not the people to think things through. Or at all.

So, now to the victims.

A few were human, of course. I didn't really expect these people to actually care about defending we Earthlings except as a concept.

The target though, was the green humanoids. One of the smaller ones looked to be in critical condition - not enough to need my last more powerful spell though. My hand glided across his forehead, a spell discharging itself into his cut muscles and flesh. A reddish-brown eye with yellow sclera opened.

"Hey, listen, I know I'm probably not the best at bedside demeanors, but you're okay, can you-"

"You healed me."

The tone was...not what I was expecting.

"Um...yes?"

"You healed me," he said, in that same, shocked, wondering tone of voice. The kind of voice you'd expect from someone in the middle of a religious experience. Expression much the same.

Pins and needles started to erupt from my back.

"But...I am but of common stock." He looked directly in my eyes. "Why?"

And now I pitied him. Class structure was not kind to whoever this guy was.

"I would do it for anyone," I recited from memory. "I don't care how low you were born, what class you're in, you're just a person who was the victim of a criminal. All victims are equal in my eyes, and each life saved is equally valuable," And it was just as corny in real life as it was in Glenn's "stock pamphlet." Oh well, at least it would cheer him up-

"The princess has spoken!" a voice shouted from behind me.

"Praise be to Adrasteia!" a third responded. "Praise be to the kindly one, the Sheltering Hand of Shadow!"

"We shall show ourselves worthy of Azrai's love!"

...Azrai!?

"What the hell do you-"

The question died. My mouth had stopped working right.

The green humanoids were all prostrating before me, bowing and kneeling on the ground, with at least three limbs touching it per homid.

...This had to be some kind of buttering up, I mean, it was flattering and all but seriously they didn't need to go through this-

The Medusa I let out of the helmet tasted the air.

Want you to have good impression of your servants. Excessive praise to prevent abuse by deity figure.

Minutes later, Clockblocker put it better than I ever could, especially given how I had temporarily forgotten how to use the English language, and Tybalt was having just as much trouble.

"...I..wha...the hell?"

"And I have no idea why," I finished.

Even if there wasn't a stipulation to reporting me attracting cults in Tybalt's accepted conditions for membership, this was the kind of thing that I, in particular, would report to the director.

Thankfully, Piggot hadn't been faced with anything particularly disastrous over the past couple months, so her mood was merely sour rather than the borderline murderousness I had come to associate with her over the past few meetings.

Or maybe because she realized that, sudden Master power or no, I personally did nothing wrong. In any case, she looked the way I felt - confused, aggravated, and perhaps a bit nervous.

For her however, the nervous bit was probably more due to the green tide trying to negotiate the wall of security. A fact made harder by one of the bigger humanoids getting pissed off enough to attempt to bullrush the agents, and got turned into an impromptu foam roadblock for his fellows, as shown on the outside security camera. The nervous bit for me was wondering if I was going to deal with that throughout my career-and worse, if I made them like that, a la Teacher.

"Sorry I'm late. Being Chambers' pet project," a familiar voice voice interrupted.

A man that I could only describe as "generic" slid into the room wearing a trenchcoat - the kind of lack of any real distinction for the area that makes it nearly impossible to recall someone accurately. Truth is, I doubted that was actually possible without deliberate effort, and indeed, Nex went back to his true form pretty quickly.

Colin nodded in sympathy. "He can be a really obsessive stickler for the proper way of things, can't he?"

"You said it, not me." The coat was quickly untied, revealing a more colorful spandex costume of a magnifying glass inspecting a planet, as Nex began to scratch at it rapidly. "I don't know what I'm allergic to, the nylon or the name. When I meet the focus group who thought 'Saturnine Inspector' was a good alias…"

Piggot coughed. "Was there a reason you showed up, Mr. Nex'rik?"

"Ah, yeah, my bad." He pointed at the camera feed. "Those guys on the screen aren't baatezu, despite what the guy who's writing the press release thinks. Those are goblins, an Aebrynis-native race like dopplegangers."

...Okay, that was new. "How can you tell?" I blurted out, more out of spur of the moment than anything.

The rather deadpan expression on Nex's face said everything.

"Yeah, stupid question. But...why am I their new celebrity?"

"Why I showed up." The doppleganger pulled out a chair, slouching in it while he apparently figured out what he was going to say next.

"...To goblins, awnsheghlien are as gods."

My thoughts grinding to a halt was going to be a thing with Nex's explanations, weren't they?

Tybalt sputtered for a bit himself. "W...W..What?"

"See you've never been to Aebrynis. Yep, our goblins view awnsheghlien as more than parahumans - they're the small gods who walk the earth, children of the divine and mortal who deserve veneration for existing."

I pulled out the butterfly pin. This was going to be long.

The Director and I were of one mind as we reached the end of the latest round of exposition; Oh dear sweet merciful God why me!?

I swore, if I wasn't immune to it, the heat from the friction of rubbing the pin would have burned me.

"...Slaves?" Piggot echoed.

"Status symbol. Goblins see everything in terms of master and servant. The more you've mastered, it stands to reason to goblins, the better leader you are," Nex continued. "The thing is, they absolutelydespise the idea of any other race enslaving a goblin, after the way the elves treated them."

He leaned back a little, sighing. "Thing is, individuals aren't races in the goblinoid view of things. A person who proves him or herself worthy of being a master through strength or cunning is willingly followed. Which is exactly what Azrai did, to the extent where they now regard any of his descendants as being divine figures in their own right. Yes, Hercules and Samson, Colin, that's a good metaphor-sorry, simile."

Everyone not Nex cradled his or her head. "I appear to have discovered the realm of Platonic forms after all," Tybalt muttered. "This is the form of 'more than one can conceivably handle'."

"...So," I began. "Due to the Azrai cells, there is now a culture of slavers who literally worship me as the self-made descendant of a megalomaniac." I inhaled. "I have never felt more ashamed by popularity in my entire life."

...Nope, that didn't break the tension.

"Don't ignore their fear of contacting you," Armsmaster continued. "From the sound of things they were both frightened of how you'd react, but regarded it as your right to abuse them - hence why they were trying to gauge how you would likely treat them in the future-"

"Boss?" I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. "Stop explaining things."

Tybalt looked thoughtful "...But if you understand their psychology, it's possible to begin reforms-"

"No," I said, drawing myself back up. "I am not a politician, stolen power be damned. I just do my job, I catch the criminals, restore order - I don't try to change laws, I enforce them, and maybe provide an example of a better way. What I am not is a puffed-up feudal warlord with a starving ego who gets off on control."

I retrieved my spear. "Now if you don't mind, I need stop this cult before it forms-"

"Have we heard anything from Panacea?"

I looked back at the Director. "Hm?"

"It's well-known that Chimaera's death is responsible for her mutation. Even if the goblins haven't been viewing the news before their arrival, if they know anything about how awnsheghlien power inheritance operates, it's likely they've figured out Ms. Dallon is one of their demigods as well."

...Oh.

Without saying anything, I reached for my civilian cell.

A couple rings, and-

"Taylor? Oh thank god I've been needing to talk to someone-"

Her voice sounded a bit strange - not quite the growing hiss of stress reversion, but definitely a bit static and distant.

"Amy?" I cut her off.

"...Yes?"

"This wouldn't have anything to do with green humanoids following you wherever you go?"

A pause. "..How did you-"

"Can you come to the PRT building, please? Nex has something he needs to tell you."

A long pause. "Er...can he come to me? I'm kind of hiding in the Shadow World right now, and I don't know how to navigate from here to a specific location."

The doppleganger in question groaned.

From what came over the phone speaker, half an hour later, Amy had been shown the ropes of using minute Shadow portals to triangulate her relative position and Nex explaining symbolic logic, and ten minutes after that, she and Nex portaled into the gym.

"You know," she said, dusting off a greenish, glowing mold of her costume, "I've noticed I don't really think about the implications of powers very much. You'd think I'd be able to at least smell my way over here through those things…"

"Eh, don't be too hard on yourself," Nex grunted as he put his portal bird's wings back into their "off" position. "Took me a couple days to figure out the navigation trick myself, and I had a native guide." He smirked a little.. "Of course, I didn't have the ability to make portals by breathing either, so take that with a grain of salt."

Amy said nothing, only looked rather annoyed as she texted back in sane world, at PRT to Glory Girl. "So, what did you want to tell me, and please, can you tell me why I had to hide in R'yleh's national park for the last three hours?"

One explanation later, the younger Dallon even less enthused than I did about our shared religious role.

"So, not only am I a giant snake, I have attendant minions. Minions with absolutely no ethical quarrel with slavery." She buried her face in her hands. "Fuck my life. Just...fuck it where it hurts."

"If it makes you feel better, you can escape them," I said, trying for levity and probably failing. "I can't fly forever, after all."

"If only the place I have refuge in wasn't trying to kill me if I give it an inch." The healer began to collapse to the ground. "Typical. Just...typical."

Nex suddenly looked very concerned. "Um, er, I'm sorry for the intrusion but...what do you mean by 'father's daughter'?"

There was a very loud crack, and as my eyes caught up with the reality, I noticed that Nex was stumbling back from a large wing. A large wing that was quickly absorbed into an arm.

"...I probably deserved that," he muttered, rubbing his cheek.

Amy began to sink into the ground again. "It's just...I can't escape it, can I? Now...literal goblins. I have literal goblins as my fanatical soldiers, seeking only to please me." She looked up. "Maybe fate...wants to tell me something…"

Tybalt spoke before I did. "You could show them a better way. A way without slaves, without debasing themselves."

I saw her fists clench. "Yeah. While we're at it, Russia looks rather sad under the czars-"

"Amy! Please. Calm down," I interrupted. "He's not trying to upset you."

I KNOW! "I know…" And then she collapsed. "I just…"

"I'll help you," I blurted out.

The beginning of her cry stopped. "Huh?"

Mentally kicking myself, I continued. "They've already latched on to me as their healer, and they know I don't have biases in healing spells. So I'll help you redeem them, help you not be corrupted."

Nex did a double-take. "But I thought you said-"

"I changed my mind," I said, glumly. "I can get the PRT to help me drive them off and convince them I'm not interested. She has all of two people, one of whom makes people worship her by sheer accident and if she tries to help it'll just redirect the problem."

I sighed. "This way, on the other hand? This way we can at least face the problem together and keep each other from going power mad."

"...Not to mention that this way, the goblins will break free of their societal abuse cycle," Tybalt started. "This way, there's a permanent change, teaching men how to fish instead of giving fish."

...Someone was pretty insistent about reforms.

As I began to unmuzzle the Medusa, Tybalt held up a paw. "I admit it, I have an agenda - I hate slavery as an institution. It is something anathema to the agathion mindset, something our instincts don't allow."

Ah. A bit pushy, but well-intentioned. I refastened the muzzle.

And opened the empathy circuit, for a second.

A sense of duty flowed over. Duty and hope. Okay, so maybe he wasn't that deceptive.

Amy appeared to be considering this. "...You don't think you'll be corrupted by power to and we end up in a state of amoral groupthink?"

"Not with me breathing down her neck, no."

I flinched as Piggot came out of the door behind me. Forgot she was there.

...And this probably was considered "suspicious cult-like behavior," wasn't it. Damn, here comes the Rant.

The Director shivered, before drawing to her full height.

"I will see if this can be allowed as part of both our outreach and to see if the goblins have any intelligence on their baatezu allies. Ialso expect to both of you to be completely open about all goblin-related activities.Do I make myself clear?"

...Uh.

"Er...Thanks?" I replied, quashing the inner Dennis before I asked how Nex got there without me noticing.

"You are welcome," she said, curtly. "Make no mistake, this is only because the goblins are going to serve as auxiliary members of the PRT. We require extra bodies, and an insight into the inner workings of Baator, however tangential. So do not squander what generosity I am giving you."

She turned to leave. "Also, Ms. Dallon? As a request from the Guild, I ask you to, at the earliest possible convenience, to please confer with Dragon, in my office, about your own experiences with the Shadow World."

Amy blinked, just as confused by Piggot's sudden permissive attitude as I was. "Er...I can do that tomorrow, after my shift, actually."

"Good."

As she walked off, I heard Nex snort. "Becoming overlords because friendship. That's a first."

There were dozens of things I would rather be doing than public speaking with a speech I had to help write myself in the past day or so. Attempt to innure myself to pain by eating primed grenades, for one. But frankly, I thought it would be more genuine if it came from me.

Mostly.

In concept.

With the input of three other people.

"You sure about this, Taylor?" Dad said. For the third time.

"No," I admitted. "But, sooner or later, these things have to be made. You know, connecting with the employees, and all that."

"I still fail to see how my original idea didn't pass inspection," Glenn said, the videophone's distortion making him sound even more disgruntled. "I mean, studies have shown-"

"That people who have been living all their lives in a culture where slavery is viewed as the evil it is respond affirmatively to its removal?" Tybalt finished. "Sorry, but the goblins will likely immediately slot Taylor into the 'noble exile' role, insightful but definitely not a font of great wisdom. Trust me, I've dealt with cultures like goblins before."

"Then how do you suppose we reform their social system?" a caustic Glenn replied. "We have to startsomewhere, especially before they get the idea of 'mastering' bits of Earth Bet."

"Subtly," my familiar replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We start with the idea of civil rights, then to indentured servitude and term limits, then move to compensation-"

"Then a civil war?" Glenn shot back.

"...Hopefully we can avoid that," Tybalt admitted. "But from what Nex told me of goblins, their culture is not so obsessed with primacy of their species over lesser ones so much as fear of being enslaved themselves, by someone they do not respect. Quite unlike your Confederacy."

"It's still slavery," Dad muttered.

"And you are perfectly right to think that, any form of it is an evil that must be eradicated. I merely wish to allow your daughter to wade into this toxic environ and not be swept up in it."

"Too late," I interjected. "God-queen, remember?"

"...Okay, I will admit that being born into power isn't a situation I'm familiar with, but I have learned over the years that it's infinitely wiser to do things gradually when dealing with societal reforms of any kind. Taking things too quickly tends to result in vicious counters by the powerful, or in this case rebellion. This is also a place where slavery probably can be reformed out of existence, since it seems to be a luxury product as opposed to an entire economic system founded on parasitically sucking the life and labor from a convenient minority. And to be completely frank, the PRT also want the goblins as intelligence assets, and doing things too blatantly will alert the baatezu."

He stood up and stretched. "Besides, we aren't trying to reform an entire culture, are we? Just this shared tribe between Ms. Hebert and Ms. Dallon. And to do that, and what my ultimate plan was, we foster trust between it and the outside world - far easier when both rulers are outsiders."

"Uh-huh," Glenn said, sounding as skeptical as he could. "Just don't complain to me when the chains come out. Or the rebellion starts anyway despite you trying for soft reforms."

"I won't. I'm many things, but I don't think I'm a coward when it comes to responsibility for my actions."

I had asked for the PRT to not attend the so-called "acceptance speech" meeting, on the basis of stage fright. I just got a camera to record it.

Because fate is a hateful, evil creature, the ethnic diversity of goblins made the rapt crowd, if anything, seem bigger. It was extremely easy to note where one goblin ended and the other began, mainly because they didn't really seem to feel the need to keep to their own subrace.

The smallest ethnicity (true goblins, Nex said was the popular parlance) was both the greenest and the least hairy as well, with the odd distinguishing feature of a significant minority of them having calloused hands - results of being the caste of craftsmen and farmers, I assumed. The tall, mostly yellow ones (hobgoblins) stood proudly and strongly, for the most part armored in either weathered-looking mail or bits of hard material they had scrounged together (I had heard one raising a big stink about not being allowed a bulletproof vest earlier). The largest, almost completely furry ones (bugbears, a name which made exactly 50% sense) almost looked like repeated steroid abusers, were it not for the natural symmetry of their muscle - almost like living statues of Olympic athletes - and a calm confidence to their body language that did not speak of the infamous roid rage. I resisted the urge to sin-scent them (it would probably tell me nothing I didn't already know) as I took the impromptu podium.

A few seconds, ostensibly to clear my throat, realistically to calm my nerves and rub my pin.

Then;

"Righteous...loyal...disciplined...brethren."

Nex said they loved that kind of opening, the respect they felt they collectively needed from a master. Which was really good for Tybalt's more subtle plan of abolition, seeing as how they already weren't fans ofchattel slavery.

"Far you have traveled," I continued, submerging myself in the overly dramatic identity of Adrasteia as far as I could go. "Far, and without knowing where you were headed, only that you knew it had to be a better life. But now you are the adopted children of Earth Bet, a beautiful world free of the past which chains you to a cruel master indeed."

Brief check of the written speech while I inhaled.

"As the first native Daughter of Darkness born, I welcome you, and am grateful to be your guide-"

"WE WELCOME THE SHELTERING HAND!"

"WE ARE NOT WORTHY OF HER CHARITY!"

And just like that, I became both amnesiac and illiterate.

"I...I…"

What was I doing?

I didn't want to be some kind of living idol! I wasn't a divine princess sent to protect and rule a people as, I don't know, Pharaoh of Goblinkind! I wasn't even at all good with people, let alone a reformist leader! How was I supposed to give order to an entire tribe of aliens with a values system completely estranged from that of many humans, when I didn't even understand my country's owngovernment?

Okay...I was going to have to let them down gently, had to find a good excuse, except no Amy was dependent on me-

"Hmmm-mm-hmm…"

Who was humming?

"Hhhmmm-hmm-hm-hm-hm…"

Sounded female.

"Mmm-hm, hm-hm, hmm.,,"

And...calming. Really, strangely calming.

As my thoughts returned to me, I suddenly remembered something else Nex said. Something very core toawnsheghlien in general.

You're all born politicians.

I may not have been a social person by any stretch of the imagination...but whatever genetic instincts Azrai worked into his creations was.

A cough, to cover for my sudden panic attack. "Pardon me, I have...allergies. No, no, I don't need a tissue, just need a second to compose," I finished, in reply to several of the goblins holding up portable boxes.

Okay, how to provoke the instinct...maybe if I thought about the heart hello.

The sheer feeling of electricity that surged through Me suddenly refocused everything. Whereas before I was trying desperately not to screw up in front of strangers, now I felt in My element, surrounded by adoring Servants and Disciples of My Regality, carrying out My right and duty to protect and govern My Subjects and Family. I was Strong. I was Divine. I was home.

Then I noticed I was internally capitalizing a lot of words, glorying in the feeling of power over My Follow...the tribe. The dissonance was not pleasant, but it worked.

I strode forward with new confidence. "As I was saying, I am grateful to be your exalted guide to Earth Bet. I, myself, am unworthy of this gift of mastery, but I truly and earnestly believe that my own legend will be more than equal to Azrai's, may he forever reign in the place beyond the Veil, in time. Make no mistake, as the voice of the newborn court, both for we scions of the House Above All Houses and for the consolidated might of the Magma Gorger Tribe, I will ensure that there will be a new home carved for you in this bountiful, beautiful, and unspoiled world."

A whoop of joy and elation. Again, the dissonance; Taylor-me was even more frightened by the notion of making promises I had no idea I could keep, awnshegh-me basked in the sound of approval and applause, feeding on it to fuel the passions that heated my blood and fueled my voice.

"This I promise you. And this I would rather shed my powers than break."

Naturally, the me who was far, far more in her element was the dominant one.

"She has come to save us!"

"The Lost was speaking truth!"

Awnshegh-me smiled broadly, overjoyed as the simple honesty of doing what was both the right thing and the expedient thing at the same time.

This, of course, allowed Taylor-me time to fully comprehend that statement.

Come to save them?

As awnshegh-me launched fully into the prepared speech about symbiosis with Earth Bet and concessions to a world that meant goblins no harm, Taylor-me noted that at no point in the written speech did I actually put the Magma Gorgers' name in, or why I seemed to know it. Or the part about coming to an unspoiledworld.

Later, after the instincts died down and awnshegh-me subsided back into my modified, genetically narcissistic subconscious, I checked the video.

Off to the side, a woman in a PRT uniform moved past the corner of the viewscreen after the humming stopped, nothing visible of her head except long, black tresses...and a strange device on her hand I recognized as a text-to-speech converter.

First thing on my agenda: Report what happens when an awnshegh lets instinct dictate her emotions before I grew addicted to the feeling.

Secondly;

"Well, she is obviously mute. I do not think people who can speak wear those ungainly things."

Getting nowhere with investigating the mysterious hummer.

"Thank you for the good intentions, Tybalt," Colin muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Sadly, I doubt if someone capable enough to hide in an auditorium unnoticed and intelligent enough to realize she had to get there before the goblins did to avoid being noticed by Hebert would keep wearing such an identifying item."

"...Wait, how did we-"

"It's a working hypothesis, Hannah," he continued, still out of the corner of his mouth. "The camera was placed directly behind the audience, and there was a lot left untouched. My guess is that our mystery cape was crouched behind the tables while waiting for the speech to start, ergo not having to worry about evading notice if she came in at a later time, or facing the camera."

"All well and good," I interrupted, "but here's the thing - I already scented what's likely to be her hiding place."

"And?"

"Nothing."

That got Colin's full attention.

Hannah's eyes narrowed as she began to pace. "...That ability of yours doesn't pick up things you approve of, does it?"

I caught on. "...You think she was trying to help?"

"Presumably," Colin continued. "If this woman is a recent one, it might be that she's still massively upset over the...circumstances, and has socially withdrawn herself. Especially if that's the reason she's now a mute."

"Possibly," Piggot suddenly chimed in. "Or she's the infiltrator from a couple months back, and her lack of a scent is due to a Stranger component to her power."

"Good point, Ma'am," I replied, narrowing my brow. "You don't infiltrate a meeting and then use a power on the speaker out of the goodness of your heart." What agenda she did have, though, was beyond me. Aggravating, and worrying - if her hummingcould send me into a narcissistic episode, she could probably do the opposite and provoke utter depression. Among various other things.

A few seconds passed, no sound except for the clock's ticking as we tried to figure the cape out.

Colin broke it. "...Maybe she's an awnshegh? From the sound of things, they seem to have a good deal of emotional connection with each other."

Hannah began to nod. "Actually...Panacea did mention that Seadrake claimed there were 'friends' of his on Earth Bet."

"...You think she was bolstering a cousin?" Tybalt said.

"Precisely," Colin replied. "My guess is that she felt honor-bound to assist her family member in taking control of the Magma Gorgers - she probably believes awnsheghlien ruling over goblins is the natural order of the world, and wished to help it along. Mandate of heaven, and the various bad things that happen if it is not followed, to use a native example."

I thought on this. "...Think she may want a favor later?"

"Possibly," Colin replied. "Or maybe she actually was purely ideologically motivated, in which case she's even more unpredictable. We know absolutely nothing about awnsheghlien culture, and if she defaults into this for a complete stranger, it's likely she has never even considered the possibilitythat Hebert doesn't understand her honor code. And she's liable to be upset when we succumb to statistical inevitability and break it."

Hannah held her head, muttering something in Arabic. "And she wears an agent uniform. Hiding in plain sight. Director, I think we need to do an inventory of all...mute...Director?"

Piggot had suddenly frozen, eyes wide.

Colin whipped into action before Hannah did. "Madam Director? Did you remember someone who might be our mystery cape?"

"...Not that."

I swore the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. I noticed Tybalt suddenly shiver as his coat fluffed out.

"...Is Ms. Dallon still in the middle of Dragon's Shadow World experiment?"

Huh?

"...She is, Director, but-"

Colin was cut off by Piggot suddenly dialing the videophone.

A couple rings later, Dragon's CGI avatar materialized on the screen.

"Yes, Ms. Piggot?"

"Earlier, Panacea remarked about the odd nature of the Shadow World around places where your technology has a current presence in the mundane counterpart?"

"...Yes?" Dragon asked, looking confused.

"Do you think it's possible to send a probe to Vancouver's counterpart and examine the effects around your home?"

Dragon blinked. "Um, Ma'am, that appears to be an invasion of privacy-"

"Please? I believe it may be a threat to national security, either of Canada or the United States."

Dragon's face chewed on a CGI nail. Right, she was an agoraphobe when it came to her physical body, being put on the spot like this couldn't be comfortable.

A few seconds, and she shook herself. "...sorry for the delay, I just was caught unprepared. I'll direct the probe there right now."

About fifteen minutes later, Dragon called back. "Shadow World probe is almost at destination, Nex's directions combined with clear trail of my technology's influence has what the hell!?"

The view switched.

The Shadow World looked as bizarre as Amy claimed it to be. Trees that grew into perfect geometrical shapes surrounded a lake that shifted into Platonic solids as it hovered in the air.

It was also pretty easy to see Dragon's influence - cables and wires made of earth and thatched together with vines and woody plants sprawled across the landscape in right angles and squares, covering the ground and extending into the air. At least one branch seemed to be following the camera probe around.

That wasn't what I noticed first, though.

What we noticed first was the metal spider crawling across the earthen network.

A giant, steel spider, with ruby lenses for eyes. Even as the camera affixed on it, a spike-covered limb almost casually tore open one of the wooden cables, releasing dark red data which it briefly stopped to drink. A green hourglass symbol glowed, flickering with something that looked like Morse code before the spider began to slowly walk over to a new cable.

"...I was watching my data storage while it was biting on that cable," Dragon's voice whispered over the intercom. "While it was 'drinking', my storage was being accessed, but as soon as it stopped, there was no records at all."

"...Reconnaissance drone, you think?" Colin whispered back.

"Too big," Dragon replied. "Not economical enough to make something that big for espionage, since drones are supposed to be disposable."

She inhaled. "I have to figure out a way to trick this thing into the real world-"

"Kill it."

Dragon's face reappeared to stare at Tybalt. "Pardon? This thing is a sign of aggression by someone-"

"There should be a brand of its master contained in its forehead, and it won't dissolve. The power supply for its eye rays should be where the spinnerets on a normal spider should be."

"You know what-" Dragon began.

"It's called a retriever, woman, and by the Lady of Pain herself will you please kill it before it kills you!?"

There was a brief jump in Dragon's avatar before it resolved itself back into her shocked expression.

Right on cue, the spider apparently noticed the suit. A readout of ENERGY BUILDUP DETECTED appeared as the retriever's eyes began to ignite with different colors of energy.

"Point taken."

The point of view rapidly dropped as a stream of lightning jumped out of two of its eyes, distorting the digital lens even as they sailed over Dragon's suit.

Thankfully for the drone, Dragon was a lot quicker with her engines than the retriever was. The suit rapidly rocketed forward into its abdomen, dodging a couple more beams along the way. In a few seconds, a splurt of a black substance that I hoped was oil hit the suit as Dragon, metal cutters still whirring, tore out four objects that looked like differently colored gears made of gems, and the "fire" in the retriever's eyes flickered out. Two minutes later, the head was torn off too, and the body froze in mid-stride, before toppling.

It wasn't a fair fight, especially not with Tybalt barking out design flaws in the retriever. Copacetic for Dragon, though.

"What was that thing?" Dragon asked as her avatar stopped glitching - probably because she had stopped moving so quickly in the real world. "I mean, it was obviously some kind of robotic drone with defense capabilities at all, but…"

"A retriever," Tybalt said, floating up. "A tanar'ri enforcement and assassination construct, one of the most infamous and frequently used models for both their relative cheapness and intimidation factor."

"Tanar'ri?" Piggot echoed. "You don't mean-"

"Yes, this thing was likely a vanguard for a future incursion for its master." Tybalt was furiously pacing again. "I don't know why this one was repurposed for spying or scouting, however - they're mainly found in areas where the tanar'ri have already established their power, because their core purpose is essentially to hunt down traitors and deserters, hence the name. Agathions have dealt with them dozens of times when sheltering political refugees and defectors."

He sat. "Trying to refit them for other purposes, however, usually necessitates removal of the primary magic generators, leaving their primary weapon vulnerable to being disabled, and from there easily destroyed. Hence why they're usually on the home front."

Dragon nodded as she began to cut into the spider's head. "But they're cheap and can take advantage of the first blow if they surprise an enemy, am I correct?"

"Precisely. I think the only reason this one's lord will notice it's gone is because the data stream has been cut off." Tybalt began to pace again. "Still, the majority of tanar'ri aren't known for this kind of risk-reward scouting. They don't have a great deal of loyalty to one another, so there has to be something that personally motivated the owner to send a scout. Maybe they-"

"All well and good," Colin interjected, "but what the hell is it doing around Vancouver!?" He sounded a little scared now, which already sent me on edge. Colin lacked many things, but an unflappable disposition wasn't one of them.

"I don't know, that's why I wanted to see the ownership sigil. I also recommend we not tell the baatezu, they'll take it as a reason to establish control-"

"Is this it?" Dragon interrupted.

The suit held up a grey ball of metal with a golden sigil in it. The symbol itself was rather abstract, resembling nothing so much as two differently-shaped fish hooks merged together with a handle.

"...Oh. Oh dear."

"...please tell me that aside is due to this retriever belonging to a conscientious objector to the Blood War and this is all a huge misunderstanding," I murmured.

"I would wish. That's the seal of Prince Haagenti, the Whispers Within. One of the greatest scientific minds, and more importantly, weaponsmiths in all of the universe, let alone the Abyss."

It didn't take long to realize exactly why a weapons researcher might want Dragon's data.

"...Should I go start preparing precautions in case he manages to crack my own tech now or-"

"You are dismissed, Dragon. You probably need all the time you can have."

"On it." Call disconnected.

A very long silence followed, only broken by Hannah.

"If it helps at all, he at least can't replicate it directly! ...I hope."

A/N: Not pictured: Everyone in the room breaking into hysterical laughter/sobbing because of this on top of everything else in this chapter.

Just be glad Haagenti didn't meet Bonesaw. Odds are that Jack Slash would be overjoyed to find she has a new friend...who likes science-offs with her, and whose hobbies include explosions, war profiteering, arts and crafts (alchemy of the flesh)...