Seizure 18.3

Watching Legend leave my city, I sighed, letting my genial smile drop. "So I'm not fighting Ziz. Fuck. That. . . changes things." And now I was left with a decision. Did I pull a Boardwalk and show up in another identity, save people who told me to fuck off despite all the help I offered them already, or did I let the people who claimed responsibility for the entire world, to the point they'd kill any that got in their way without hesitation, suffer the consequences of their actions.

Hell, if I came as Boardwalk, I was likely to get attacked as soon as Ziz ran, if not before, just like I got attacked after I saved the Wards from Oni Lee. With time, it was obvious what'd happened. Oni Lee's rampage was the kind of thing that Thinkers should've seen, especially Contessa, so when she didn't, and they identified Boardwalk as the new factor, he became a factor that needed to be eliminated.

So. Did I save people who wanted to kill me, or did I leave well-meaning idiots to suffer the fate they chose? Intellectually, I knew the correct decision, even if, emotionally, it felt like I was leaving them to die. But I had no control over them, no responsibility for them, and while, with great power, came great responsibility, I wasn't the only one with either.

Clenching my fists, I let out a long breath, and, walking back inside, I nodded to the receptionist and re-entered the secure room. Teleporting to the Mark in my office, Taylor looked up with a smile, "So, what did Legend want?"

"You know how Quinn thought I might not be allowed to participate in the fight? How Cauldron wants me to stay put?" I asked back, annoyed, but trying to keep it from my tone. She wasn't the one I was mad at.

Her eyes widened, shock/offense coming through our shared connection. "What? No! But you're a Blindspot! You being there-"

"Did you forget how they're practically led by the nose by their precog?" I interrupted, shaking my head. "No, they don't know that I'm immune to Precog, and I've done my best not to let them know. Hopefully it's worked. They know that Boardwalk is a Blindspot, and they haven't retracted their bounty for his capture, which kind of tells you all you need to know. Legend asked about him, but that just screams trap to me, and I have no reason to trust them."

"But, the Endbringer Truce," she started to object, before cutting herself off. "Wait, you said Armsmaster broke it, and got away with it. But if Legend was there, that wouldn't happen! Once it starts, and goes wrong, because of course it will, he'll understand!" she argued, working her way through the issue, but her base assumptions were wrong.

"Legend was the one that covered it up," I disagreed with vehemence. I'd let him go with a smile, knowing arguing him wouldn't help. He'd made it clear he'd been outvoted, and, in doing so, absolved himself of all responsibility. Well, golden rule. "He weighed justice, versus the damage to the image of having one of their team leads breaking it, and chose to protect Armsdick. The only good thing that can be said is he didn't let the Bearded Blunder throw you under the bus to try and hide the fact that he knew you were trying to go undercover, and told no one, to the point of giving the guy helping him earplugs so you couldn't say so, though it was ostensibly to keep Tattletale from doing anything."

Taylor blinked, confusion/disbelief/denial underlining her statement of, "But. . . but he's Legend."

"And he's the best of the Cauldronites, to the point the others have to hide shit from him, but he is one of them," I shrugged. I should've seen this coming, but the man was just so freaking earnest, I'd assumed he would be the one that'd understood, but he hadn't, he'd just gone along with the others.

She didn't like that, but nodded, accepting it. "So, if not Boardwalk, who are you going as? The Lion guy you were in Maine?"

"I'm not going," I replied simply, and was met with a disbelieving stare. "Listen, Taylor, they'll have evacuated everyone. Everyone that might die has volunteered for that fight."

"But," she objected, gazing at me in confusion, her emotions a confused riot. "But, they're heroes. And it's the Simurgh."

Moving over to make some tea, a sun insta-boiling the water, I had to ask, "Heroes? You mean like New Wave are? And the Simurgh will be back, and I'll stop her then, when Cauldron, and by extension the entire PRT, isn't telling me to fuck off or die."

Taylor winced, "Fine, they, Amy's family are dicks, but most heroes aren't. They're trying to help. Hell, they're fighting the Simurgh when they aren't immune to her powers like you are. Can't you at least respect that?" she demanded, feeling anger/confusion/hurt for reasons I didn't really understand.

"I can respect it, just as I can respect that they've decided to follow the PRT's lead, and the PRT, in case you didn't hear me the first time, told me not to come. No, the real question is who?" I asked, knowing people were going to die because of Cauldron's actions, but that fact, despite what Taylor was suggesting, wasn't my fault. "Who are you worried about? I talked with Legend, and none of the Wards are going to be fighting, nor is anyone from Brockton Bay. Old Brockton Bay," I corrected. "Who do you know personally that you're worried about?"

"So, you don't care. Like Æonic," the girl accused angrily, practically thrumming with it through our shared connection as she turned it on me. "He's mad at the government, so he won't help. You're mad at Cauldron, so you won't help. Doesn't matter who dies, doesn't matter who gets hurt, it's not you, so you don't care!"

"Excuse me?" I asked quietly, sure I'd heard wrong, feeling her righteous, offended anger pressing down on me. "You think I don't care?"

How could she not realize I did? Wasn't she able to feel how I wanted nothing more than go out and help, but I knew I couldn't? If she did, she obviously didn't care, as the Queen of Escalation doubled down. "Your brother wouldn't help, and now neither are you!"

"Chuckles wouldn't help when I asked him to help. I'm not helping when I was ordered not to," I stressed, my own anger flaring right back at hers, finding myself suddenly attacked from where I expected support, but I stomped the feeling down, mastering my emotions even as hers just escalated further. "They don't want me there, fine. They want a fucking disaster? Maybe it'll just be a normal Endbringer fight without me. Last time we literally had three separate targets, on top of the original reason Levi attacked. Or maybe it'll be just as bad. I am not, however, strong enough to fight the world, Taylor. Give me a year or two, I might be able to, but right now I can't, and if I go there, and get found out, it might end up that way."

I shook my head, able to feel as my words did nothing, the girl I thought was a friend glaring at me in outraged anger, without a hint of understanding. "If my people were there, for whatever reason, I'd say fuck it and go. If the fallout would screw us all over, I'd probably go. And you think I don't care? Fuck me, Taylor, I do, but I help people who fucking deserve it. When a group that's kicked you when your down, done nothing for you, and tells you to screw off when you try and help them are about to make a mistake, I go 'you, do you.' Or are you telling me if you saw Emma, Sophia, and whathername getting bullied, you'd step in?"

"That's different," she argued, undeterred, even as I felt her conviction falter, for a second, but instead of listening she just doubled down, again. "This isn't getting bullied. They're going to die, Lee!"

"And, if I'm not careful, they'll try and kill me!" I argued right back, wondering why she was being so blind. Taylor was normally logical and considerate, which is why this was coming completely out of left field! "Only, it wouldn't just be me, would it? Hell, I might be okay with that, and what the fuck does that say about me!? No, Tagg was going to kill you, and your father, and Amy, and every other person I cared about in the slightest. And why? Because I wouldn't submit!" I stressed. I'd explained what'd happened, and she'd listened, but apparently she hadn't. "So when the same fucking people tell me they want me to stay away while they get themselves killed, I say have fun!"

"Legend wasn't Tagg!" she yelled, riding high on hurt/anger/offense, "And you stopped Tagg!"

I stared at her in disbelief. "And that makes it better? Yes, 'Legend wasn't Tagg', he just worked for the man. Taylor, did you fucking forget what Cauldron does? If Contessa thought that raping and killing you would help them kill Scion they'd do it in a fucking heartbeat, and Legend would fucking help. No, he wouldn't do it himself, but if they lied to him about what was happening, he'd defend the building while they did it to you. Herb works for them because, in case you missed it, Herb's morals kind of don't exist! Not in the way that mine do. Not in the way that yours do. Every single red line I thought he had, every single agreement I thought we had, he's broken, and he fits in with them perfectly. If he wasn't loyal to me, in his own, weird, fucked up way I likely would've had to fucking kill him by now, and you want me to trust in that group's better nature?"

"But Legend doesn't know! You just said the others were lying to him! So, fine, don't save him, but there are good people in the Protectorate!" She yelled, just repeating herself, her arguments stupid as she made a bad situation even worse for, as far as I could tell, no reason at all.

"Name. One," I bit out, having to pull back from her, walling myself off from the inferno of emotion opposite of me, as my own feelings crystalized into cold fury.

"Chevalier!" she threw out, and, even as she did, I could tell she realized it was a mistake.

I gave her a look of exaggerated surprise. "Gee golly whiz, Taylor! I didn't know you knew Chevalier personally. Tell me, where did you meet him? Even better, what is his real name, since you know him so well, to know what he's really like." She didn't respond, so I pressed on, eviscerating her statement which was more about winning than it was understanding, "Oh, wait, you know what the PRT PR says about him. Just like you knew what Armsmaster was like. Tell me, how did that turn out for you? If I wasn't there, what would've happened?"

Taylor was quiet, and I turned my back on her, to finish making my tea. Some part of me wanted to reach out to her through our shared power, but long experience had taught me that reaching out to the person that attacked you unfairly just made them do it again later. As I sat down, she whispered, "That was mean."

Oh you don't get to play that card when you started this shit. "Less mean than comparing me to a Villain? Less mean than making me somehow responsible for the deaths of people that'd kill me if I got in their boss' way? Less mean than making me somehow responsible for people who I have no control over, when I'm trying my best to save the god-damned world, when it seems dead-set on stopping me?" I demanded, shaking my head. "I guess I forget how young you are sometimes."

"What-what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, angry, but there were tears in her eyes.

For a second, rage burned in my chest, but I crushed the feeling. I was too used to manipulators, who'd cry to get their way, letting emotions run rampant and expecting me to take responsibility for them, while, when my own were hurt, telling me it was my problem. Taylor, until right now, hadn't been like that, which meant it was probably genuine. That didn't mean I'd apologize for something that wasn't my fault, though. "I mean, you seem to think that, because I have the power to do something about this, it is my responsibility to do something, and that, if I don't, it's somehow my fault. Tell me, did you think every crime that happened in Brockton Bay, from the time you got out of the hospital, to the time you fought Lung, and almost died, was somehow your fault?"

"No, I wasn't ready! But this is different, you could win!" she objected. "and if you don't, people are going to die!"

"And people didn't die in Brockton Bay? You couldn't've won against three idiots with baseball bats while controlling bugs two blocks away, instead of the one guy who regularly fought the entire Protectorate team and won. Ya know what, fine, could I win against the Simurgh? Probably," I nodded. "Against Cauldron? Fuck no. Hell, one high-level infiltrator could've killed most of you, if we hadn't found her before she decided to move. That's the problem, Taylor. We're getting to the point where we've graduated to the highest level of danger, and, if I'm not careful, we all could end up dead, and some of our people did die. We've been lucky as shit, even with my stupid levels of power, and getting Cauldron to agree to an informal, one-man quarantine was, quite frankly, the best thing that could've happened to us. But you don't realize that, and that's why you're young. You're looking at the next battle, I'm trying to look at the war, and even then I might be fucking that up. But more than that, it's the double-fucking-standards."

"Double standards? I don't have-" she started to object, but I cut her off.

"Really? You are literally holding me to the same standards which you didn't hold yourself to, before we met. Actually, you know what, riddle me this: when you were being bullied, would you've stood up for your teachers if they were getting harassed themselves? Your principal? By your logic, they weren't the ones making your life hell, they might not even have seen it firsthand and were just being lied to by those girls and their friends," I mused. "And yeah, the Protectorate parahumans might die, but when it's death on the line, that's less of an excuse to turn a blind eye, not more of one to suddenly open your arms to people that might stick a knife in your ribs. Or, to put it differently, remember the ABB? Remember what they were doing to kids? Didn't stop you from killing each and everyone one of them, did it? After all, some of the people there might not've known what was going on. They might've been mislead," I pointed out with ice cold tones.

"They- the ABB deserved what they got, and to defend them, what's wrong with you!?" she demanded.

Raising an eyebrow, I replied coldly, "Oh, I'm not defending them. I'm right there with you, and didn't feel bad about it. At. All. No, I'm not defending them, Taylor, you are. Because that's what you're saying, Taylor, if I decided to ignore context like you suddenly decided to."

"I'm not!" she argued, and I took a sip of my tea, waiting for the rest, which only led her to repeat, "I'm not! It's different! You're different! You're a hero!"

"You keep using that word, I don't think it means what you think it means," I remarked scornfully, and she glared at me, but I didn't care. "When I say I'm a Hero, I mean very specific things. Defending the innocent. Trying to help others. Fighting evil. Acting with honor. What I do not mean, is that I must work with every misguided idiot, who's one lie away from stabbing me in the back with zero warning whatsoever. It doesn't mean I have to protect people who tell me to leave, having to go out of my way to hide who I am for fear of what they'd do to me and mine if they knew who was really saving them."

I shook my head, "I do what is right over what is easy, but I can't help people if I'm dead, Taylor, and Heroism should be a goal you aspire to, not a slave collar, held by idiots who, at best, wouldn't lift a finger while they demand you break your back, or, at worst, actively hurt you while demanding you help them. Armsmaster betrayed you. Eidolon Mastered me. Miss Militia shot me in the back with an RPG, less than a minute after I'd saved Vista and Gallant, because someone, probably Cauldron, realized Boardwalk was a Blindspot and wanted him in Custody, probably to offer him the choice of enslavement or death. Time after time after fucking time, Taylor, I've met the 'heroes' of this world, and they've been little better than the nicer Villains."

Taylor stared at me for a long moment. "So, what, fuck them all?" she asked, opening her arms wide. "No one helped you, so you won't help them?"

I opened my arms in return, "Have you missed everything I've done up until now? I've been told not to leave this city, on heavily implied pain of death, so I've been helping the people here. More than that, have you seen anyone outside of Brockton Bay helping us? You have heroic ideals. It's one of the things I like about you, and if this was a better world, I'd be right there with you. But it's not, Taylor. This isn't the America you think it is, and, deep down, you know it. Apply the same standards you're trying to bind me with, and see if they apply to anyone else with power in this world that claims the title of Hero. Here's a hint, the only people it does are either not adults, or maybe independent actors, and I'd be skeptical about the second."

"So no, Taylor, this isn't 'fuck everyone else', and the fact that you think it is makes me wonder how much I actually know you, and you me," I sighed. "I'm trying to help people, I'm trying to make things better, and acting like I'm a terrible person for not pissing off the nicer, subtler, and more powerful American version of the fucking CUI by saving them when they've told me to fuck off is not the actions of someone who is being fair, or a fucking friend. Overwatch, a word please."

Quinn appeared in the office, expression mild, and paused, looking between the two of us. "Yes, Vejovis? I can't help but feel that I'm showing up in the middle of something."

"You're showing up to the end. Legend told me not to leave the city for the upcoming fight with the Simurgh. Lady Bug is telling me I'm a bad person for not sneaking in anyways. I'm done with this, and going to go punch something with too many legs off in the Yellow Zone," I informed him, standing and teleporting to one of the Marks I had on a crumbling building.

I sighed, glad to be away from her, no longer able to feel her stupid, useless, outrage, her anger at me for nothing concrete at all. In the distance, a bolt of lightning struck down from the clear sky, and I wondered what got close enough to trip it. Soon enough, my thoughts turned back to Taylor. She's of this world, and she's sixteen. I. . . might've been harsh. I just. . . hadn't expected the attack, and it was an attack. I'd expected maybe an eyeroll and an 'of course', or a 'that's bullshit' and an agreement to stay out of it, but not. . . that. But, from what I'd seen of the media of this world, and from how people talked. . . it made a certain, sick kind of sense.

By making the heroes of this world 'Lawful Stupid' instead of 'Lawful Good', it'd kept them controllable by official institutions. It'd meant that those who questioned things, like Mouse Protector had, got sidelined and limited, not able to join a larger group and becoming a danger to the status quo. But even then, we'd talked about this, and I thought Taylor agreed!

No, some small part of me corrected, we agreed about not using kid-gloves with Villains, and about the corruption of the PRT. We agreed about how normal people were conditioned not to step up to Villains. We commiserated about the stupidity of starting romantic relationships while keeping secret identities. We never talked about how helping a treacherous ally was more dangerous than working together with a known enemy. About how leaving the 'heroes' to die, when they were actually trying to help, is sometimes an real option when they aren't actually heroes. About how, to the most powerful people in this world, there is no real morality, only power and survival.

And there was the sticking point. If Eidolon and Alexandria, who I was sure voted to keep me out, were just two of the highest-ranking members of the Protectorate, I would've ignored their wishes to help out. Hell, if this were the DC universe, and holy shit how bad was it when I thought that place was a step up, I might ignore what Batman or Wonder Woman wanted if it meant saving people, because I knew that they had lines they would not cross.

But these people had no lines, and they'd put someone who went after families, breaking the unwritten rules like they were nothing, in charge of the office overseeing me. A man who attacked a family gathering to get what he wanted, and the 'Heroes' went along with it. But Taylor wasn't there, didn't know what it was like, didn't understand. Part of me was glad it had happened to me instead of her, but because of that she still had her delusions, not having been confronted with reality.

Until now. When I refused to play ball. Because no one else was.

Maybe she just didn't internalize it, or didn't understand the implications, so kept the remains of her old worldview safe from what she knew was happening with a thick layer of cognitive dissonance.

Or maybe she thought I was somehow 'better', which, I mean, I was, but mostly because not attacking people for the crime of not submitting and torturing them was a really low fucking bar.

Or maybe I just didn't know her as much as I thought. The longer Worm had gone on, the less. . . personality Taylor had had, so had I just read what I wanted to see onto her increasingly Tabula Rasa? I'd already figured out why that'd happened, her pushing her emotions into her swarms instead of feeling them, but. . . had I not understood the rest of the implications of that?

Regardless, this situation wasn't one of equals cooperating, where everyone bore equal responsibility. People came from all over to fight the Endbringers, but it was the PRT that organized things, that led things, that made the decisions, and that, if they really wanted to, could do terrible things, and the others would go with it without more than token resistance.

When I first got here, I might not've believed it, excused the Armsmaster sabotage as a one off, but I'd taken the tenor of things now, and the parahumans of this world, even those that called themselves heroes, would back down rather than stand up for what they believed in. Yes, I was sure they wouldn't turn up to the next Endbringer fight, running from their problems, just like everyone would ultimately run from Scion until Khepri made them fight. But that result wouldn't make me any less dead, thinking myself safe when I was anything but.

Pulling my phone, I brought up one of my brother's reports, looking for something to do that was productive, instead of arguing with a naïve teen who I thought I could trust. I looked for a creature nest that needed taking care of. Finding a colony of spiders that spun near-monofilament wires on the border between the Red and Yellow Zones, I snorted, knowing my power made no distinction between true insects and arachnids.

"Too easy."

AB

It was eleven forty-five at night, and the team had gathered to watch the fight. Quinn had handled informing the others of Legend's dictum from Cauldron, and my non-participation in the fight, and the others hadn't said much to me about it at all. The closest anyone got was Herb, who'd come up to me as I ate dinner in the cafeteria, alone, and asked, "Legend really told you not to?"

"Orders from your employers," I'd returned, picking at my fettuccini, not really that hungry. "And if they don't want me, I'm not going to get someone else to go in my place. Lady Bug had some words about that."

"Yeah, I know, I heard," he'd admitted, and I'd looked up, wondering how that had happened. "Talked to her, a bit. 'Bout how goin' where you're not wanted works if you're gonna kick the crap outta 'em, but not if yer supposed to work with 'em. Like cops in the hood. Or domestics."

Domestics? I'd thought, before my Herb-to-English translator kicked in, filling in the rest of the words, to know he meant domestic disputes, which were notorious for having the person you were trying to save turn on you to defend their attacker. That fit, more than I thought it would. I'd nodded, "And?"

"And she already kinda got it. 'Watch helped. She just, kinda, looks up ta ya, you know?" he'd told me, as if that explained everything.

"Not enough to try to understand me, apparently," I'd remarked dryly.

"C'mon man, it's not like that," he'd argued. "It's just, girl's not good with surprises. I mean, like, fightin' wise, yeah, but ya come at her like that, she's gonna go fightin wise, yeah?"

"I'm waiting to hear how that's my problem," I'd pointed out, and the black man had shot me a 'you know what I mean' look. "But I get it," I'd told him, "she's young, just. . . wasn't expecting that. On an unrelated note, I found a colony of super-spiders that I took over. It's something she could use, but. . ."

"But ya don't wanna look like yer apologizin'," he'd nodded in sage agreement. "Domestics."

A month or two ago, I would've gotten mad at him, as I wasn't in a relationship with her, and didn't appreciate his insinuations. But now? Now I'd just felt tired, and let it go without a word, the man looking at me oddly as I waited for him to offer actionable suggestions.

He'd paused, and when it became clear I wasn't going to say anything else, he continued, though he started slowly. "O-kay. Right, so have Amy tell her 'bout them. That way it's a thing you found, and had Panacea look over, like ya do for everything, 'stead of something you got for her."

Thinking about it, I'd nodded. I wouldn't trust this man with a secret, or anything of importance other than a pure combat situation, but sometimes he offered a good perspective. There was a reason we were once friends. "Will do," I'd told him, going back to my dinner, and after a long moment, he left.

Now all of the PD had gathered around the main conference table, holographic screen showing multiple windows, each with a different video-feed as the parahumans got ready for battle, and, with several hours of warning, the entire world seemed to be watching.

What we got, was a shit-show.

The Simurgh came down, towing satellites, and, according to what the cameras picked up from the chatter between fighters, made not a sound. The Simurgh's cry was always psychic, not picked up by any kind of external sensor, but now there wasn't even that. More than the lack of its signature attack, though, there was something odd about the entire situation. It wasn't until Taylor spoke up that I realized what it was: "Why isn't anyone looking at the cameras?"

It was the first thing she'd said since she arrived, sitting down next to Amy instead of by me, as she normally did. Looking at the feeds, I realized she was right.

Having some, like the Protectorate members, not glance their way made sense. They were used to being on camera, and would focus on the threat of Endbringer, but even before Ziz showed up, no one had so much as glanced at them. More than that, the alphabetical nature of the deaths that occurred screamed fuckery.

"Overwatch, where are these feeds coming from?" I asked, as the fight played out, the leadership meeting on camera, which we got a close view of.

"It's streaming online, the source is. . . unknown," the technopath said, frowning. "I'm trying to trace it, as are others, but. . . I have no idea."

"It's the Simurgh!" Herb blurted out, and I looked at him questioningly. "No, listen," he insisted. "The gamer bros showing the last one fucked people up, right? Like war footage from 'Nam. And her entire thing is fuckin' with people."

I had to nod, as one of the Simurgh's powers was Tinkertech, so it was completely within her capabilities to make invisible cameras. The fight continued, a complete one-sided beatdown, as Ziz toyed with them, in a way that she hadn't in previous fights.

The Protectorate finally decided to leave, which was smart, and I leaned back, relaxing. Seeing the deaths, knowing I likely could've stopped that, tore at me a little, but my reasons for not stepping in were still valid. The Protectorate ran this show, the Protectorate told me to screw off, this was the Protectorate's fault. "Seeing them cut and run's gonna hurt morale, but their losses are light, and they got everyone out," I mused, happy it was almost over. "Maybe next time they'll let us help."

Gauge stiffened, likely looking forward in time, and paled. "Um. Vejovis? That's not what happens."

I felt a chill run down my spine, and shot the boy a questioning look, but he just waved at the screen, as the leadership broke up, going around and spreading the word. Soon enough, they made a run for it, only to be stopped as the hidden Tinkertech activated. The golden barrier came down, the fighters were trapped, and I started to see how the Simurgh wanted things to play out. She's not going to let this end, is she? I couldn't help but think.

Suddenly, the feed split into two. One continued as normal, but the other, from outside the dome, showed everyone moving far quicker than they should be, as if everything inside was a tape running on fast forward.

"Fuckin' copycat bitch," Herb swore, and I nodded, thinking of the Time Endbringer, which would age people to death, but we could still make out what was happening, even sped up, years not passing in seconds.

"Not to the extent of the next one," I agreed, "but still bad. Gauge, what happens next?" I demanded, the boy using his power once again.

"Dead," he whispered, his mother reaching an arm over to pull him in for a comforting hug, which he went along with automatically. "A lot of dead."

Fuck, I swore internally. It still wasn't my fault, but. . . "How many?" I questioned and the boy shrugged. Frowning, I grabbed my phone, and took a second to figure out who I should contact. Knowing my brother, he'd already've had his precog use her power on everyone nearby because 'why not', and even if he hadn't, waiting for him to pussyfoot around to try and get an answer because he didn't give a shit wasn't a luxury I had.

I dialed my father's, Medhu's, number.

It rang, and rang, and went to voicemail. "Really?" I couldn't help but ask the phone.

The second time, he didn't pick up either, nor did he the third. Herb started to say something as it rang the fourth, where it was picked up with a pained, "What."

"I need a look forward, eight hours from now," I said. "Things have gone off the rails. What happens if we don't intervene?"

"Not exactly in condition to do that," my father growled for the other end, literally growled, in the way he did whenever he was upset. When I was younger, it'd unsettled me. Now? Now, I didn't care. Yes, his power hurt to overuse, but these people were dying, and he'd slid through the last Endbringer fight without a fucking scratch.

"If you can give me shit, no, you're not," I shot back. "I need to know. Who survives?"

There was silence on the other end. "Excuse me?" Medhu snarled, and if there was any thoughts about my father being somehow lost in the Indian man's personality, that got rid of them.

Right, this is why we don't talk, I thought. "You're excused," I sneered right back. "I'm not asking you to fight, but I need to know. Whatever you tried didn't work. What's the damage?"

Again there was silence, and then a gasp, and then a pained, "Triumvirate survives. No one else."

And then he hung up on me.

Dick, I thought, but I had what I needed in a fraction of the time I'd get something from Charlie. "Overwatch, contact the PRT. We need to launch an attack and break them out. I'll-"

"The PRT has quarantined the area," Quinn interrupted. "Per the chief director's orders."

"The Chief Director is Alexandria, who's right there," I shot back, some of those assembled gasping in shock. "Really?" I asked them, shaking my head. "So Ziz got busy. Fuck. What kind?"

"Full deployment with Anti-Air," the lawyer replied quickly. "They were ready in case things went bad. They did."

"So, one of Becky's plans that got co-opted, or did Ziz set this up? Fuck, doesn't matter. Fuck!" I swore, already knowing what I was going to do. It was a good plan, but the Simurgh fucked with even my plans, apparently.

"Lee," Taylor said, looking at me, begging me to do something.

"I know!" I replied. "Okay. Fine. I'm. . ." I trailed off looking around the table, trying to figure out who I trusted. The answer, right now, was Quinn, and I felt simultaneously alone, and grateful that I could at least depend on him. "I'm gonna go burn some favors. A lot of favors. I can't leave this fucking city, but no one said I couldn't make some fucking calls."