Revision 13.y (Alexandria/Accord)
Chief Director Costa Brown signaled to her assistant that she wasn't to be disturbed, and the young woman nodded, leaving and sending the room into lockdown. Ten seconds later, Alexandria stepped through the glowing rectangle that unfolded in the middle of her office and entered her room in Cauldron's base. Two minutes later she was in the conference room with Doctor Mother, Fortuna, and The Number Man. Legend entered the room a minute later. Twelve minutes after that, Eidolon finally showed up.
"Good to see you could join us," Doctor Mother commented coolly as he stepped through a Doorway into the room.
"Killian's Krew had more parahumans than I thought, but they're all stopped," the man shrugged, disappearing and reappearing in his seat with a flash of light.
The Doctor looked like she wanted to say something, Alexandria easily reading the annoyance on her face, but she obviously thought better of it. Alexandria could empathize. David could sometimes be difficult, and had been getting worse. While his powers might've improved, his attitude had not.
"It's been two weeks since our last scheduled meeting," The older woman said, looking around the room. "And a lot has happened."
"You can say that again," Legend agreed. He was putting up a good front, as usual, but the man looked tired.
"I have some announcements to make, and some events you all need to be briefed on," she continued. "However, I'd like an update from you all. I've read your reports, those of you whom submitted them," Alexandria didn't need her expertise at reading micro-expressions to decipher the aggravated glance Doctor Mother sent Eidolon's way, nor did she need it to read the man's complete lack of caring in his body language, "but things have been changing fast enough that new information might cast those reports in new light. Alexandria, if you'd start us off?"
She nodded, standing up and addressing the table. "As I mentioned in today's report, the public support of the Parahuman Response Teams is growing. Recruitment is continuing to spike, and it appears to not be stopping. My hypothesis is that the events of the latest Endbringer attack are being laid at the feet of the Protectorate, not the Parahuman Response Teams. Furthermore, with greater societal awareness of the destructive potential for powers, normal citizens are looking for a way to protect themselves, and they are looking to the Parahuman Response Teams for that. I believe that the Chief Director can successfully push for greater leeway in her operations, which would allow us to better mitigate the rise in criminal activity that follows the failed defense of an Endbringer attack."
"Did we fail, though?" Eidolon questioned, obviously smiling behind his mask.
"Yes, we did," Legend rebuked before Alexandria could. "The losses alone. . ."
The Number Man disagreed. "Yes and no." At Legend's harsh look, he continued, unruffled by the laser-user's glare. "The losses of Parahuman talent were great, yes, but the civilian casualties, given the target, were absolutely miniscule. The advance warning provided resulted in less than one-thousandths the expected civilian losses. I believe that Break's value to us has been more than proven."
"If he can do so again," Doctor Mother nodded in agreement.
Legend looked over at her, surprise evident. "I'm sorry, if?"
Alexandria nodded. "Vejovis told me that the two of them had intel on events for the next few months. He knew my civilian identity, which he stated would come out in the next few months, but that he'd taken steps to stop. It stands to reason that he knew about Leviathan's attack."
"He knew it was going to be, that!" Legend yelled, tiredness disappearing under outrage.
She shook her head, "I don't believe so, no. He assumed Leviathan might fight harder, his exact words were 'They seem to meet the force presented. You got more warning, had more time to prepare. Is it any wonder he'd be going harder?' However, his stress responses indicated he was convincing himself after that first attack, not that he expected it in the first place. From his actions, if he had, he would have acted differently."
"What makes you say that, Alexandria?" Doctor Mother inquired, no doubt bringing up her reports on the man to see if she'd missed anything. She very well might've. Doctor Mother was now in her fifties, and the years had taken a toll on her.
"In my report from the day after, page two, paragraph four, where I mentioned his ablative, invisible force-fields," the Brute commented calmly, "If he'd known what was coming, he either would've hidden them better, or gone for wider coverage. He'd been trying to hide them from the public, pretending he was merely durable, like a normal brute, and had been successful in doing so, so to use them so openly but so ineffectually suggests his choice to utilize them was an emotional one, born of panic. Panic not to save himself, but those around him, which included myself, though that might have been incidental"
"And if he knew, he wouldn't've panicked," Legend agreed, understanding her point. "But what about the Endbringer's meeting our attacks?"
"That's something we've suspected for a while," Doctor Mother informed him, The Number Man nodding in agreement.
The ultimate statistician explained, "With how quickly they attack, and how we can't afford to perform tests if it means the loss of a target, we haven't been able to experiment with them. If this Vejovis has information on the future, events might've happened that proved that."
"And on the topic of pushing for less restrictions for the Parahuman Response Teams?" Alexandria pressed. She though she should, but she only had access to so much information.
Doctor Mother looked to The Number Man, and Fortuna, who both nodded, before she sighed and nodded herself. "Go for it Alexandria. That will hopefully let us ride this wave. What of Brockton Bay?"
"With the dissolution of the city government, the East-North-East office is being dissolved as well. Director Piggot performed her job as she was meant to, and thus she will be moved to the newly formed department sixty-eight in Bozeman," she announced, in her position as Chief Director of the Protectorate.
"I'm sorry, where?" Eidolon laughed.
Alexandria looked to him, wondering why he found this humorous. "Bozeman, Montana. We're lacking a presence in the Mid-west, and Director Piggot will do well in establishing a presence there. She'll view it as demotion, but it's a reward for her work keeping the Brockton Bay experiment running. Boston will become the new East-North-East Branch and the new office in Salt Lake City will take over the designation of 24."
"I thought we couldn't do that because of the-" Legend started to say.
"With the greater powers, the public's support, and that organization's tendency for fire-based powers, we will have the ability to establish an office despite them," Alexandria stated calmly. "Even if I have to go there myself."
"I'm in!" Eidolon volunteered, scoffing when Alexandria shook her head. "Why not?"
"If they fight the PRT, the worst among them need to disappear, as if they never existed. Their unleashing their full potential will cast further fear and suspicion on the fire-based parahumans in our own ranks. You'd level any base of operations we find," she told him neutrally. This wasn't a debate; she was merely informing him of facts that he already knew.
Eidolon crossed his arms, but sat back, not arguing, not that he'd be able to. Doctor Mother moved the conversation forward, "Legend, how's the Protectorate fairing?"
The man sighed, shaking his head. "Not well. We lost a lot of good people, and I'd be surprised if one in five volunteers for the next attack. And yes, we need them, David," he stated, pre-empting the green-clad hero. "The only saving grace is that a lot of villains are among the dead, though that just means we've lost the ones that'd put aside their differences. I agree Rebecca, you should push for more power for the PRT. We're gonna need it."
Alexandria hid her surprise. She'd gotten into many a debate with Legend about how much power the PRT should have, just as she used to have with Hero. She's assumed he was holding his peace, knowing he'd be outvoted, not that he'd finally come to agree with her. The man continued, "Triggers are up, mostly Thinkers, Tinkers, Breakers, and Shakers, but for everyone one that joins us, one is joining an independent team and three are snatched up by the villains. I propose we increase vial distribution. Not among those that would join the PRT, as they'll be needed to, but among those who'd join the Protectorate. We're going to need everyone we can get."
Artificially increasing the number of heroes, more than they already were, wasn't a new suggestion on Legend's part. What was new was Doctor Mother's nod, and her statement of, "Maybe. We're looking into it." Legend looked as surprised as Alexandria felt, the answer having been a steadfast no for the past three years. The man gave her a hopeful, relieved grin, and sat back, done with his report.
"Eidolon, what do you have to report?" Doctor Mother asked, slowly moving around the table.
The man shrugged, a halo of actinic light forming around his head and vanishing like a popped soap bubble. "I'm back."
A long moment passed before Doctor Mother, visibly annoyed, prompted him to "Explain."
"My powers are back to what they used to be. Better even. Powers I'd lost are back, and I can use them for longer. I don't know what happened, but I'm glad it did. I think that boy was right," Eidolon nodded to Alexandria. "I was stronger, and Leviathan fought harder in response. I didn't have as good a grasp on them during the flight, with them flooding back like they were, but next time one of them attacks, they're going to die," he stated, a viciousness that he'd lost over the years back in his tone.
Alexandria had known David had been getting depressed. It'd been obvious, even to the others, but with that depression had come a sense of calm consideration, closer to the mindset that she cultivated. She remembered what they were all like when they began. She'd been blunter, Legend had been more idealistic, and Eidolon had a chip on his shoulder, a need to be known to all that'd pushed him forward into danger more than once.
Eidolon was different from then, which combined with the way he still moved without the energy of youth, negated any theories she'd had about him being de-aged, and thus regaining his powers. However, his need to be known as the strongest had been re-invigorated right alongside his powers.
People had started to notice his waning abilities. Not enough to be publicly accepted, but enough that the idea had been on its way there. With his regained strength, David was working twice as hard to show why he was the strongest human on the planet, and he was obviously weighing everything against that goal.
"With Eidolon's regained power, the path has changed. However, he is still unable to find information on those that evade my ability," Contessa announced, David's shoulders stiffening slightly at the semi-public announcement of his own lack of ability. "However, with the discovery of Boardwalk and subject 2601, I, along with Number Man, have tracked down and eliminated fifty-six others that were unaffected by my power directly. More exist, I'm sure, but those were the individuals that held positions of power, and thus able to affect the course of events directly. Doing so should help negate any other deviations from the path, and has slowed down its shifting perceptibly"
Alexandria nodded, having not been aware that was an issue, but glad to see it was being addressed. Legend appeared to be a little pained, but he understood the necessity of Fortuna's actions. Eidolon just looked bored.
The Number Man added his contribution: "The aftereffects of the Endbringer attack, as usual, are economic depression. Due to the televised nature of this one, the effect has been magnified tenfold, and is extending globally. I'm doing all that I can to mitigate the effects, but people that would never be threatened by an Endbringer attack are being effected emotionally, creating knock-on effects. In the future, if you hear of plans to broadcast such events, or see camera drones, destroy them immediately. The aftereffects of doing so will pale in comparison to what we'll be dealing with if this happens again."
"But you can slow it?" Doctor Mother pressed.
"Slow? Yes. Stop? No," The average looking man, in a white dress shirt and khakis, said without emotion. "I can shift the effects around, alert the authorities or heroes in key areas of certain areas of interest to mitigate the expected rise in crime which has already started, but it won't be pleasant. As I have stated previously, this can only go on for so long. The effects have been slight, 'boiling the frog', despite the inaccuracy of the statement, but this will be a shock to the system. If events follow the models, violence will rise, GDP will drop, and while it will appear that more is being done to help, things will deteriorate an accelerated rate until it all stabilizes once again, or another inciting incident like the previous Endbringer attack occurs again."
"I suppose I am somewhat vindicated that my models of the situation were correct," he stated, smiling slightly, "though my timetables were off. That can be attributed to the unforeseen severity of the attack, however. This kind of economic and societal degradation will become common in a decade, but for now the effects will peter off in a few months. Barring, of course, further events of this nature."
The Number Man sat down, his report finished, and all eyes turned towards Doctor Mother, who nodded to herself. "And now for my announcement. Scion's been acting strange. Even for him."
The woman typed into her tablet computer, and on the screen behind her displayed an image of a golden man, floating above the waters of either an ocean or a great lake, the waves stretching out to the horizon behind him. Given that she hadn't had reports of Scion loitering around Michigan, Alexandria assumed it was the former.
"Scion has been floating over a single point in the Pacific Ocean. We're not sure why, and so far no one has approached him," Doctor Mother announced. "He has not moved, and, as far as we can tell, has not been looking at anything specifically. As far as we have been able to gather, he arrived at the attack a minute after Leviathan was ejected from Brockton Bay, and twenty seconds after The Simurgh flew above the cloud-line. He then inspected the location Leviathan had previously occupied, the airspace four hundred feet above downtown, the remains of the conference center you three gave your briefing at, the medical area, Panacea, and you, Eidolon. Panacea was injured, though not critically, and from the reports he merely stared at her, only glancing at those around her. Did he say or do anything you'd like to report?" she asked the man in question.
David tilted his head in thought, before shrugging. "He didn't say anything, but he looked. . . confused? Normally he glares at me like I kicked his dog, and he started to, but then he cocked his head like a puzzled pooch and flew off. We don't know what he's doing?"
"As far as we can tell, he appears to be thinking," Doctor Mother answered. "What that means for us, or how long he'll spend doing so, we can't be sure. I would have asked you to see if your powers would give us an insight, Eidolon, but if you still share the same Blindspots as Contessa, I won't bother."
Typing into her tablet again, the image was replaced with a view of Brockton Bay's ruins from above. "As to what we're doing with Brockton Bay. The short answer is nothing. Whatever power is countering Contessa is localized there, and we want to keep it there. We assume it's Boardwalk's presence, so if you can, capture him. If that's not possible, eliminate him, though I'd much prefer having him work on our side. One of our sources has been able to pull information about him, though it is limited, suggesting his power is not the full nullification subject 2601's was. If we could bring him into the fold," she started to say.
"Path to Scion's defeat shortens by seventy steps," Contessa finished for her. "At least."
"What about Break?" Legend asked. "We know he's been in contact with Boardwalk, he's admitted as such. With what Vejovis apparently said, he might not be able to warn us next time? And then there's whatever he turned into at the end."
"Leviathan," Alexandria supplied.
Legend glanced over at her. "He didn't turn into Leviathan, he turned into a giant snake," he disagreed.
"Leviathan from Jewish mythology, likely based in turn on the Canaanite's Lotan," she clarified. "A sea serpent of prodigious size, similar to the Norse Jörmungandr. That said, its ability to fly was more akin to an Asiatic dragon."
"He turned into Leviathan to fight Leviathan," Doctor Mother stated, smiling ruefully. "That fits with what we've seen of the man's character. Our best guess based on what data we've gathered is his ability to change increases with his time spent in a fight, like Lung's did, and that his cousins share a similar ability. Has anyone seen him or his cousins?"
"I have," Alexandria stated, having called the man in question several hours prior. "He sounded. . . different, but had the proper codes. He stated with confidence that he will be able to warn us next time as well. He further stated that, should it be Behemoth, that he and his cousins will 'beat it like it owes them money, then shank that bitch like he's in prison, and keep it from irradiatin' the shit out of everythin' when it goes out with a bang, though it'll be whimperin'.' Whether that's true, either the warning or his boast, is unverifiable at this time."
"And can we find these cousins?" Doctor Mother asked Contessa.
The younger woman furrowed her brow in thought. "I can find Boojack tomorrow. The other two that were spotted with him will take eight days for one, and twenty-two days for the other."
"Why?" the older woman asked reflexively, but they all knew the answer.
Contessa told her, as she'd told them all when they'd first asked that question, "I don't know, that's the next step. For Boojack, it is wait nine hours. For the dark one it is wait seven days, nine hours. For the last one it is wait twenty-one days, and nine hours."
"That's awfully specific," Legend commented, a statement which Alexandria agreed with. "Can you find Vejovis?"
"I can direct you to a village where you'll find carvings of the Roman god of the same name," Contessa stated. "They're in quite good condition. That's all I can tell you."
"If you don't know your next steps, how could you-" Eidolon started to say, but stopped himself. "You checked?"
Contessa nodded. "Yes, and any time I try to find him, my first step is to ask for a doorway to the carving's location."
"Are we even sure he's alive?" Eidolon asked. "He might've died in the fighting."
"According to Director Piggot, he's alive," Legend disagreed. "He's just recovering."
Alexandria saw through that in an instant. "With Panacea on his team? The girl who rebuilt an almost limbless Ward in an hour? He's laying low after what he revealed."
"I could go track him down," Eidolon offered. "He might be too near Boardwalk for direct Thinker powers to work, but I'll find another way to run him down."
Doctor Mother shook her head. "I appreciate the initiative Eidolon, but we're pursuing a different avenue. We've found a Thinker that is unaffected by Boardwalk's power."
The man folded his arms, and, almost petulantly, asked, "And who is this Thinker?"
"Accord."
Roger Drake Kelly, or as he preferred to be known as, Accord, sat in his office, considering his ruined plans. He'd had a great many plans, with dozens upon dozens of contingencies and variables, all in the service of expanding his hold past Boston and the surrounding towns and into Brockton Bay. It would be another step in his greater plans, a larger path that would lead to him implementing his original plans and making the world a better place, despite humanity's attempts to reject them.
While there were some of a higher nature, like himself, far too much of humanity were little more than muling babes, acting against their own interests and lacking the discipline to do anything worthwhile. They did not understand that some sacrifices had to be made, and their inability to see that, and to restrain themselves, required even greater sacrifices in turn. It was to help humanity, even though it couldn't comprehend his help, that he worked so tirelessly, that he made so many intricate plans.
His current plans, however, were wrecked, even more thoroughly than the city itself was. It was only due to his other plans, plans that had a low chance of ever being used, that he was able to recoup most of the assets invested in his now defunct schemes. It was only his dedication to covering every detail that had turned a devastating financial wound into a glancing monetary blow. Now, it was time to create more plans, to determine how he should capitalize on the circumstances presented to him now.
Did he invest in Brockton Bay once more? There were a number of opportunities, from funding salvage operations of the safest zones, to sponsoring scientific research teams. The first was more of a guaranteed Return on Investment, the second was riskier, but had a higher ROI if successful. They were both risky, mostly because of the massive conglomeration of unknowns present in the city itself.
Accord hated unknowns. One could plan around them, to some extent, but too many rendered any successful project too costly to implement or too complex for any but his best men, his Ambassadors to a better tomorrow, to follow.
People liked to think of themselves as unknowns, Accord had found. Liked to believe there was something inherently special about them, to the point they could foil his plans due to some ineffable uniqueness that made them different. By and large, they were wrong. People were a collection of traits that interacted with each other in predictable patters, and thinking oneself unique was, ironically, one of the more common patterns.
It was those easily identifiable patterns that let Accord pick his Ambassadors. Some were more easily spotted to the common eye, their accomplishments providing proof of their worth, but it was the 'unknowns' that Accord took the most pride in selecting. Those that had all the traits needed for greatness, but whose patterns hadn't aligned properly due to other factors. Some would say that it was Accord's attention that made those people great. While others might find such statements flattering, to Accord it just proved those people were idiots, lacking in the traits that created the patterns of greatness themselves.
One such person was of concern to Accord at present. One Thomas Calvert, or Coil to the parahuman community. The man was supposed to only be a temporary guest in Accord's territory, trading favors, both past and future, for the protection given while the man made plans of his own. However, the man's territory was gone, his schemes wrecked magnitudes of degrees more completely than Accord's own, and now he must be dealt with.
Plans whirled about across Accords thoughts, but they almost all aligned themselves in three distinct paths.
The first would be to integrate the man into Accord's own hierarchy. He'd never be an Ambassador, his discipline came from his power, not from himself. It was a Thinker power, of the 'what if' variety, possibly precognitive in nature, possibly merely informational. It could be both, though if the man had power on the level of that woman, and was still at his current position, he was a lost cause.
If Accord would bring him into the fold, he'd give him some piece of territory to control. Coil would be ultimately answerable to Accord, but free to act if he kept to Accord's restrictions. If he were to do so, Dorchester would be best, the Doxies having broken Accord's rules enough that it would allow Accord to solve several problems at once. Accord would likely need to either kill one of Coil's pet travelers, possibly Trickster, and/or take another for his own group to establish dominance, which was necessary for those of Coil's mindset. Trickster had seemed to work well with Accord's plans, but his later actions had shown his chaotic nature, and as such his elimination would be beneficial on multiple levels. The dancer, on the other hand, had the potential that Coil lacked, though she'd need refinement.
Some degree of infiltration into Coil's organization would be required to keep Calvert in line, and there were certain prepared buildings the man could be guided into occupying that would give Accord an easy way to end the Thinker, if, or more likely when, such things would be needed.
The second route would be similar to the first, though without as much direct oversight. Accord could easily set Coil somewhere else up, perhaps Portland, Maine, in return for favors owed. To understand the balance of power, Trickster would die, and the dancer would stay, but Coil would be free to do as he wished while Accord looked south towards Providence. A single infiltrator would be sufficient, and while Coil could be pointed in the direction of the prepared buildings that Accord had in Portland, the chances that he'd choose one without suspicion were slim.
The third was much simpler in the long run, but more complicated and without the possibility for profit. Accord could just kill the man. The secondary location that Coil had skittered off to while still appearing to stay in the building Accord had lent him was one of Accord's as well, and thus Accord had information on everything the man had done there.
Killing Thinkers was simultaneously quite simple and quite difficult, a paradox that reflected the abilities they had. Any thug with a gun could likely do so, but getting the right agents in the right place was a tricky proposition. Coil had already shown his hand, utilizing information that could be easily found in Accord's secondary office without having seen it directly in the first place. Such information was, of course, a trap for such Thinkers, and had given Accord key insight into the man's capabilities.
He had some kind of ability to detect danger, though it seemed like it required conscious usage, the man reacting to immediately dangerous situations, but doing nothing to avoid longer plans, several of which Accord had already ran almost to completion before being called off with Coil seemingly none the wiser, nor reacting to the information that such plans, if ran to completion, would've given the thinker. The information revealed to the potential precognitive in those key moments, before the target's death, were of course tainted as well.
Killing precogs took great planning, but if there was one thing that Accord was great due to, it was his planning. There was, of course, the possibility that such powers only activated when the target was actually about to come to harm, but that merely meant that the target's information gathering was greatly diminished, and his multi-tiered plans would handle Coil just as they had the other precognitives that Accord had eliminated.
In the process, the three parahumans that Coil kept nearby, Circus, Zhulong, and Nicotina would need to be suborned, and Circus eliminated, for her previous actions against Accord. The other two were artists, though rank amateurs, but they had potential, and would be spared if possible, though they would owe Accord their lives. If the Travelers were present, they could be handled as well.
As Accord considered the dozens of different permutations each path presented, his phone rang. His personal phone. Smoothly taking it out of its special pocket, he did not bother glancing at the number, only one number played Dvořák's The Noon Witch.
"Hello Doctor, to what the do I owe the pleasure of your attention?" he greeted her cordially.
"Hello Accord," she replied in kind, tone wonderfully formal. "My organization has need of your services once more."
"I will, of course, listen to any offer from an esteemed business such as yours," Accord assured her, promising nothing. He listened to her request, her stipulations, and her rationale. If he were a more vulgar humanitarian, he'd have done it for free, discovering there were such people in the world. As it was though, he bargained, as was custom.
With the price settled, he smiled to himself, able to promote an entire embassy's worth of ambassadors once he completed this task. Such providence was unplanned for, but not unappreciated. The man many called villain, but who all would eventually call savior, grinned broadly.
"Thank you, Doctor Mother. I believe we have reached an accord."