Seizure 18.8

"Did he say why he wanted to talk?" I asked, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Quinn shook his head, "No, only that it was not an emergency. Should I contact him and agree?"

Did he know I left the city? I thought, trying to figure out what it was. Someone like Tattletale might have been able to figure it out, but her power was only as good as it was because of the fact that it was often wrong. More than that, though, any power like that should've slid right off me, if it worked like hers. Did they have someone tracking me, somehow? With the thousands of Parahumans in America alone it was certainly possible, if, however it worked, it got around my Blindspot nature. Or was it something else entirely?

I was working with Toybox, the illegal Tinker association. More than that, though. . . I wasn't actually doing anything objectionable. Well, objectionable was nebulous, I wasn't doing anything illegal. Then again, I hadn't done anything illegal when Tagg had jumped me, the 'heroes' attacking a civilian picnic in order to torture -

"Vejovis?" my vizier asked, concern evident in his tone.

"Yeah, contact him," I sighed. It doesn't matter what I've done. It matters what they're going to do to me, I thought, worrying being a useless action. When Legend was coming to talk about the Endbringer attack, I knew what to prepare for, but this nebulous 'I want to talk, I won't say why' shit did nothing but make me nervous. "Have him come over in. . . half an hour?" I suggested, getting a nod from the man, looking to the other two in the room.

"I'm sure it's no big," Herb said encouragingly, which, when translated, meant that he hoped it was nothing bad but wouldn't be surprised if it was, the guarantee the statement implied completely without foundation in reality. Taylor, lacking my experience with the man, nodded, smiling at his faux-reassurances.

"Have him meet me in an office topside, and clear out the area nearby, just in case," I ordered Quinn, Taylor's smile fading a little. "And Herb, track down Truth and any others that could stand up to Triumvirate level combat, and get ready, just in case. With Doormaker, we don't even have the luxury of seeing them coming. I know," I said, holding up a hand. "Chances are it's nothing, but Ziz shook up the Status Quo, and I don't know what this is about, nor did he deign to tell us."

"Who?" my teammate asked, looking confused.

"Truth?" I checked, getting a nod from him. "Your latest 'cousin' showed up. His 'brother' looks like the Cheshire Cat, and he looks androgynous as fuck."

Herb paled, "He did? But I didn't. . ."

I shrugged. "Maybe Smith was being an asshole. You can't say it's unlike your family to give warnings where they're not needed. Or to not mention need to know intel," I stressed, and he winced, nodding. "Other than the twin-speak, and being a smug prick, he wasn't that bad. Not that I have room to talk," I offered with a half-smile, which he didn't return. "Either way, Alexandria shows up? Tell me and I'll handle her. Eidolon shows up? Break, he's yours to counter." I wondered exactly how Mr. 'I have any three powers' would deal with someone who had 'any three powers, but better than you'. "Just remember to stay in range."

Herb hesitated, before nodding. "They shouldn't be startin' any shit, but, if they do, we'll end it."

I snorted, "I'm not expecting it to be that easy, but I'll take not suffering catastrophic losses." I looked to Quinn. "Anything else?" The other man shook his head, a message from him appearing on my phone, telling me the location of the meeting. "Alright, let's see what the best of the worst wants."

AB

Of course the man in question was on-time, meeting me in a furnished office that overlooked part of New Brockton Bay that was currently under construction. To one side, ruined buildings sat. The Anomalies had been either removed or corralled, a tree made of ice that would regrow itself in an instant sitting in the partially cleared wreckage of an apartment building.

It wasn't biological, Panacea had checked, and, unless pruned, slowly spread, though if it was pruned in the last 24 hours it stayed constant. The ice tree, which when we checked showed itself to merely be made from pure frozen water, had taken root in the debris, but, clearing the area out had shown it had grown from the corpse of a woman in a blue and white costume, who we'd identified as Droxta. We'd removed the body, sending it to her family, the woman having seemingly died of her injuries before being frozen, and thus unrevivable, but the Anomaly had remained.

We had plans to turn it into a nightclub.

To the right stood the buildings I had already erected. Dryad technically had, but it was the same thing, really. The spires of steel and wood were each unique, but worked together into a broader framework that was even now only starting to reveal itself, and sat, starkly, a dividing line between the ruined Old and rebuilt New Brockton Bay.

From the movement of the air, I could feel Legend approaching, being led by Overwatch personally, who would've used the opportunity to rifle through any device the other man carried. Tinkertech would block the man's Technopathy, but the devices that Quinn had built, combining his Radar and Repair specialties, let him create Tinkertech of his own that could access the Tinkertech of others to 'repair' it, which incidentally allowed him access to everything on the device to fulfill that purpose.

My vizier opened the door, telling me, "Legend, to see you, sir," as I stood, my back to them, looking out the window. I nodded as the Triumvirate member stepped inside, turning to regard him, as Quinn dissolved into static, gone physically, but I was sure he was watching us closely through the security camera in the corner of the room.

"Legend," I greeted, "I'm glad you survived the last Endbringer battle. I wish I could've helped but," I shrugged, "you told me not to."

"That we did," the man agreed without reservation, smiling sadly. "That won't happen again." I raised an eyebrow. "I had some words with my friends. It wasn't you," he declared. "Or, if it was, it was the warning which. . ." he trailed off.

"Which?" I prompted.

"Which some suggested you shouldn't give us," he completed. "But that didn't fly. If the next one's just as bad, and we don't have time?" he asked, before blowing out breath through pursed lips to indicate just how bad that would be. "Next fight, you, Break, and anyone else we can get are in. I've been made aware that you have intel on the Endbringers, as well. I've also been made aware that no one's asked what it is you know. If you don't mind, any information you could offer could save lives."

That. . . wasn't what I'd expected. "Oh, um, sure," I replied. "Did they tell you about the cores? And that there's actually twenty of them?"

Legend nodded. "Those were both shocks. The first? Explained some things. The second? Well, after The Simurgh, I'd started to wonder. What's the next one?"

"That's, kind of an issue," I replied. "Originally it was a floating, corrupted Buddha looking thing called Khonsu. It'd make three columns of accelerated time that aged everything in it to dust and ruin. The only one who didn't die when caught inside was you."

"Me?" Legend repeated, before he slowly nodded. "My Breaker state. I'd wondered. . . how many years did I spend in it?"

"No idea," I replied. "Long enough for modern building to turn to ruined wrecks, and for people to not only die, but turn to dust. For you though? You said it all just ran together. Worse than its attacks, though, is that it teleports globally. I. . . the vision wasn't clear, that far forward," because I was skimming the book, having gotten bored and just wanting for it to get good again, "but there was something about your group recruiting people from across the world to take it down after it'd been wrecking cities for several days without stopping. The Furies and the African woman with the shadow snake were there."

"The Three Blasphemies and Moord Nag?" the hero asked, horrified, and sighed when I nodded, vaguely recognizing the names. "Did that do it?"

"They weren't the only ones there, but, yeah," I replied, only vaguely remembering what happened at that point. "But here's the thing, it showed up because you finally killed Behemoth. Three days after you killed Behemoth. However, what took out that Endbringer was a time based attack from Phir Se, an Indian Villain, because Behemoth was on his way to take out Delhi."

"You think that made this. . . Khonsu," Legend declared, and I nodded again. "And after it?"

I frowned, "A paired team. Tohu and Bohu. One was a thousand feet tall, moved slowly, but turned the land within a mile or so into a deathtrap, and the other was any three parahumans, living or dead, but it couldn't change after the attack started. They didn't get killed until Golden Mourning, despite just hanging out. Maybe they were easier to fight off, so no one tried to kill them, for fear of what the next ones would be?"

"Wait, Golden Mourning?" Legend asked. "What's that?"

I looked the man in the eye, his Aura spiking with worry. "When The Warrior decides to stop pretending to be a Hero. Things get bad."

"But, we win, right?" he pressed, and I gave him a bland look. "Oh."

Technically, humanity survived, but in anything more than the 'we completed our express goal, damn everything else' way, Cauldron lost. With global-level precogs playing Nth-dimensional chess, one could argue that that's what they meant to have happen, but, given the number of 'Blindspots' that participated in the fighting, I'd call bullshit on anyone that tried.

"David held off the Warrior, until the entity used a Thinker ability to figure out what to say to win. It told him the Endbringers were his fault because 'he needed worthy opponents'. Given what we saw from the last fight, you can see how wrong that is, but Ziz kept sandbagging originally, so he bought it long enough for Scion to kill him," I revealed. "Glaistig reaped him, which helped, but it wasn't enough."

I could point out how they'd won, but I'd be damned if I told Cauldron that Mass Mind Control was the way they'd won the day.

Legend nodded. "I, I could see why that'd work on him. And you're sure the Entity was lying?"

"As sure as I can be," I shrugged, having Seen the man's powers. "The fact that Eidolon believed the first thing Scion said in years, in the middle of the apocalypse, when it has access to millions of Thinker powers, was kind of odd," I remarked.

However, the hero shook his head. "No, Eidolon. . . He'd want it to be true. Which Scion knew. Because Thinker powers. Anything else?"

"Becky mentioned your identities were compromised?" I questioned right back, and he nodded. "The Case 53's were. . . less than happy. They had a member, Mantellum, looked a bit like a Manta Ray but could make anti-precog fields-"

"Already taken care of," Legend grimaced. "Not how I'd like to, but Break identified him."

"Well, with him they invaded your home-base, and then let Scion in," I revealed, having even vaguer memories of this than the Khonsu fight. "He found the Eden and. . . took exception."

While normally I'd not want to help my enemy, Scion going nuts and destroying everything before I could make use of it was the opposite of what I desired. We were getting the reject vials, and I was turning them into useful powers. I didn't want them destroyed, I wanted them to be mine.

Who knew what I could do if I could get my hands on the good stuff?

Besides, my own status as a Blindspot, along with my brother's, meant that directing them to stop breaches that would've normally happened instead of making breaches harder in turn meant that, when the time came, I could exploit their weak defenses.

"I. . . I suppose it would," Legend muttered. "I almost hesitate to ask, but, what else?"

And now the hardest one to explain. "They fought Scion."

". . . what."

"The Endbringers fought Scion," I repeated. "I don't know how, or why, but, when Scion started killing everyone, they came to the defenders and helped them. I don't know why, or how, or anything else, but, when the chips were down, though it wasn't enough, they fought Scion. I mean, let's kill the absolute hell out of them if we can, because I'm not sure what they'll do afterwards, and they're still trying to kill us, but they fought Scion."

The Triumviteer rocked back on his heels. "I. . . I don't know what to do with this."

I shrugged, "I don't either, and until Goldenrod goes nuts, it doesn't matter. It originally happened in about two years-"

"Two years!" Legend shouted.

"-but I've already been ripping apart the setup that led to that future the best I can," I continued. There was some speculation that Cauldron had pushed everything into going off early, as everything was already degrading, but the actions that had led to that event had, again, involved so many Blindspots, including Scion himself, that it seemed like another 'oh, I, uh, meant for that to happen' from Contessa. Honestly, I'd probably changed enough that it wasn't going to happen, the only surefire way to do so would've been to kill Jack Slash, but the Slaughterhouse Nine had gone dark these past few months, after their attack on Philadelphia.

The Protectorate leader visibly considered my words. "Why didn't you tell us this earlier? Is it really because we didn't ask?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "It's because it didn't matter. Tell me, would you have done anything differently if you knew?"

"No," he chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "No I don't think we would. Did you have anything else? Maybe about Nilbog, or the Machine Army?"

I shook my head, as I didn't have anything to tell him about the Goblin King. "Containment held until Golden Mourning for both, and, well, afterwards? It didn't matter." Because the book was over.

"And have you heard from Boardwalk?" Legend pressed, confirming my suspicions about their suspicions.

"A few times," I admitted. "But I," as Vejovis, "haven't heard from Boardwalk," officially, "in weeks. He's still mad at the Protectorate over Miss Militia shooting him in the back with an RPG. We had a bit of a disagreement actually. I wanted to focus on local issues, pacifying the Zones and rebuilding, while he wanted to be more proactive. 'Stop shit 'fore it starts', were his words. You think he's done something?"

The Triumviteer hesitated, before nodding, taking his phone out of a belt-pouch, bringing something up on it. Passing it to me, it was video of my performance, burning out the Goblin King's kingdom. From the perspective, it was a camera from the wall, which made sense. The black mass of Boardwalk was nearly invisible until he darted forward to grab Lasereyes, catching him before he could fall into the crimson vortex below, the Shadows pulling off of him as flew to the wall, dropping off the Protectorate parahuman.

Away from my visual range, the Golem's motions were just a little jerky, the flight a bit unsteady as the Golem, which was managed by the Golem Creation power, tried to adapt to my shitty 'flight' method of holding him up with bits of compressed air without looking.

"You see it too," Legend noted, when I looked back up at him, "the motions? We have reason to believe that Boardwalk has been Mastered by the parahuman in red. Do you know who that is?"

"Never seen him before in my life," I truthfully lied, fallaciously honest. "And if he comes to New Brockton Bay, I'll have some words with him, carefully of course, Masters are no joke. More than that, though. . ." I trailed off, waving to the window, indicating the city I wasn't allowed to leave.

The other man accepted the phone, nodding. "That's all we can ask. There is one more thing. The real reason I'm here," he stated ominously. "The PRT would like to know where they should set up their office."

I stared at him, uncomprehending.

"In New Brockton Bay," he explained. "From what our Thinkers can tell, you've hired a small army of city planners, and we'd like to know where we should set up our East-North-East office."

Realization dawned. "Oh, that's easy," I replied blandly. "Fucking don't."

"Excuse me?" Legend asked, as confused as I was a moment ago.

"Wherever you have your office right now? The one I broke out of? Keep it there and keep your people the hell out of my city," I replied, a bit of heat sneaking into my tone. "That place had a ludicrous number of basements I had to get out of while your people tried to kill me and the Protectorate team when they wouldn't extrajudicially assassinate me, after holding me unlawfully and, oh yeah, fucking torturing me," I almost growled, before taking a deep breath, and centering myself, pushing my anger down. "Keep it there."

"I, that's a serious accusation to make!" Legend replied hotly, visibly caught off-guard. "The PRT doesn't do things like that!"

"Yes, they do," I insisted. "Wait, how is this surprising to you at all? You work for Cauldron! Hell, I told you about Tagg the last time we talked!"

"Who?" Legend asked, pretending to be confused. It was such a bad lie, so completely impossible, despite his seeming honesty, that I opened my eyes fully and Saw him. His Aura was rippling in the way I'd come to understand confusion, and anger, but. . . there was none of the tight control that should be there if he was lying.

"Tagg," I stressed. "Used to work Madison, was promoted after Piggot got transferred. Shit, what's his first name?" I muttered to myself, only for Quinn's voice in my ear to whisper, "James. Be careful Vejovis."

The worry in my number two's voice served as a cold bucket of water to my confused indignation. "James Tagg?" I asked Legend, who looked to the side, obviously trying to dredge something up from memory.

"James Tagg. . ." the man repeated, his Aura going crazy, before it suddenly stilled, almost unnaturally so, returning to a lower level of confusion and offense. "I think I remember the name, but. . . I can't remember where. But. . . No, I'll look into it. If what you're saying is true, Vejovis, and I'm not saying it is, amends need to be made."

That's what he said last time, I realized. That's almost exactly what he said last time. Staring at the man, Seeing him, he was being honest, but he seemed honest last time.

And then I understood.

I knew that Cauldron had a Parahuman who could erase memories, the unfortunately named Slug, who blanked out the minds of their Case 53's. However, for some reason, I never thought they'd use it on their own people.

But, in retrospect, I shouldn't be surprised.

After all, hadn't I told Taylor that, if saving the world required them raping her to death, they would? That they'd turn on their allies in an instant if their half-blind Thinker said to? But this, for them to, however slightly, cause personality death by removing the memories from their own people? To destroy in them one of the key things that made you, you?

They probably didn't even blink.

And then there was the real problem, the one I didn't know the answer to.

Did I tell him?

. . . no.

I took a deep breath, half to calm down, and half to cover my suddenly shaking hand, as I wondered if Herb would leave, only to come back missing memories. Had he already been compromised? I wondered.

No, with his power copying, Herb would erase the Slug and start killing his way out, I thought. However, in my head, my mental designation for the man before me changed from 'Misguided Hero' to 'Master Victim'. On one hand, that meant I deeply, viscerally wanted to help him, but on the other hand I couldn't, not without declaring war on Cauldron, which, as I'd told Taylor, was a war I didn't know if I could win.

But that also meant I could not work with him. Ever. Because every agreement I thought we had, every understanding I thought we'd reached, any basis of trust we'd built could be destroyed in a day, if not an hour, and that was assuming that the Slug couldn't also add memories. They never used that function on the Case 53's, but that didn't mean that he couldn't. Hell, they might just have another Parahuman that could do that.

Hell, I could've had someone who did that, but I'd Walked a different Path with that Vial, giving the user the ability to implant technical knowledge only, and read, but not remove, it from others. They could still be wrong, of course, but they couldn't implant things they thought were wrong, and, in return, their range and speed had increased tenfold, the power changing from a Blaster to a Shaker in expression.

The difference was, there were lines I wouldn't cross. Things I would not do.

In pursuit of Cauldron's goal? Everything was permissible.

That meant Legend wasn't a possible ally, that could be turned to actually help the cause, he was, ironically, a Ziz Bomb to be managed, only it wasn't the Simurgh who had done this to him, it was his friends.

"However, even if that happened, that doesn't mean your city doesn't need a PRT office," Legend argued.

"No, the fact that we're handling things without them means we don't need a PRT office," I shot back. "We don't have that many people right now, and, when we do have enough, the Penumbral Defenders will take care of things."

The PRT lackey frowned. "I know you're trying to help, but that's not your decision to make."

"I think you'll find that it is," I replied, not getting mad at the man before me. Given what he was, all I felt was sad. "The same laws that meant the land went up for sale? The same laws that meant we didn't receive a cent to redevelop the area? They mean that, legally, Brockton Bay doesn't exist. They it isn't even part of the state. They mean that, to put it simply, it is my decision to make."

Legend frowned at me. "Vejovis, that doesn't sound very heroic."

The implied threat of deeming me a Villain, and thus Fair Game to attack, would've hit harder before Tagg, before I'd been told to butt out of an Endbringer attack, and before I'd realized how meaningless that moniker was. "You come here, informing me you are moving in, that I have no choice in the matter, and now, what? If I don't do what you want you'll make things hard for me? No, Legend, if one of us here is acting like a Villain, it's not me."

"I didn't mean it that way," the man quickly backpedaled.

"Then what way did you mean it, Legend?" I asked, calmly staring at him. Part of me wanted to do what he wanted, to go along with this, rather than make things an issue here and now. But, like a vampire, if I invited them in, then they'd take that as permission to do more, to control more, and it would never end.

The 'hero' looked at me, earnestly stating, "We just want to help. You can handle it now, but soon you won't."

I stared at him. I think I understand, I thought. They keep him earnest, keep him honest, let him make promises and gather others, while they never deliver and stab others in the back. Normally, such a thing only lasted a short while, until the 'face' found out, or had enough suspicion that they had to keep themselves willfully ignorant, but either way it would show. Either way, it wouldn't work.

With the Slug? That wasn't an issue.

"Tell you what," I sighed. "Look into Tagg. Look into what happened to the new ENE office. Look into what happened to Clockblocker, and Vista, and Assault & Battery. Look into those, and then have this conversation with me. Because, right now, you're asking me to let the Fallen into my city, and I'm telling you no, but, as far as you know, you're Dragon's Guild. I'm not against the possibility of working with the Protectorate, if there is a large enough need, but never alone, and always with a plan in case you decide to ambush me. Again."

"The Protectorate doesn't-," Legend started to say, and I could practically her the 'do that', but he stopped himself. "I'll look into it. If we clean house, if we remove the corrupt, would you trust us then?"

Considering that would require them arresting Alexandria? "Yes," I agreed easily. "I'd need to look into it myself, but if you no longer had people flagrantly breaking their own rules, let alone the law, then yes. But not before that."

The mind-wiped Triumviteer stared at me, before sighing, and nodding. "Then I have my work cut out for me, don't I?" he smiled, self-deprecatingly, and I couldn't help but like him a bit more, even as I knew it wouldn't last.

"Yes, yes you do, and I really hope you succeed," I agreed, mentally adding, or remember this conversation a week from now.

The man held out a hand to shake, and I hesitated, for a moment, but my costume could not be pierced, and I was immune to poisons. Taking the man's hand, he seemed to relax a little, shook it, and let go, walking out the door.

Once he was gone, I created a purple star around my arm, not bothering to tamp down on the heat, my own Immunity keeping me unharmed as I cooked anything that might've been left behind. Dismissing it, cooling down the superheated air in the room, Overwatch shimmered into view.

"He's left," my Vizier stated. "You said they had a cape that could erase memories?"

"First step in making Case 53's," I agreed, glad I wasn't the only one who was think that way.

The Parahuman Lawyer nodded slowly. "That could've been handled better."

"Probably," I shrugged. "Would you have allowed them to put a PRT office here?" The other man nodded. "Then that's why I'm in charge. From there, they'd try to poison the city, and it would only be a matter of time before they tried to take over, declaring us all Villains. They'd find proof, and make any they needed if finding it was too hard."

"And they aren't going to do so already?" Overwatch asked, his tone saying he disagreed with me, even if his words didn't go that far.

I, however, nodded. "They will, but it'll be harder for others to buy their accusations if they're not allowed in. And, I know, that wouldn't stop them, but it will slow them down. Eventually, things will get worse, I know. Like all totalitarians, they cannot allow any serious opposition to their rule, but they will have to learn to back off here. This place is mine."

The other man stared at me, for a long moment. "Legend was correct, you aren't sounding like a hero."

"And he was?" I asked, a touch of ice in my tone.

"No," Quinn replied. "It is just a habit you need to be made aware of. You weren't incorrect, but you overexplain what should be giving vaguely positive statements. Telling him you needed to talk to me and the others could've bought you weeks. You yourself told me how you aren't ready to fight Cauldron, but you seem to be keen on provoking them."

"That. . . you aren't wrong," I admitted, looking away. "I. . . I just. Everything about Cauldron disgusts me. They excuse their evil, and if they were competent I might understand it, but they aren't 'hard people making hard choices', they're. . . they're 'weak people making evil choices, calling themselves good, and absolving themselves of any responsibility'. It's like Legend said, 'I don't want to, but we voted'. Just like I'm sure he'd go 'I don't want to, but Contessa says it needs to be done', before committing atrocities. It makes me wonder about Newter."

The lawyer frowned. "The mercenary?"

"The Case 53," I specified. "His story I know. He was about to die in a war in another dimension, and Contessa stepped in, offering him a choice of stay, and die, or come with her, and live, though she didn't tell him what was going to happen to him. That's bad enough, but I wonder how many Contessa actually did that for, and if, after a while, it was just easier, more efficient, less steps, to start grabbing people willy nilly. Hell, that'd be one hell of a way to get rid of anyone that got too close to the truth. With the physical changes untempered Vials make, no one would recognize them. And there's enough random death no one would notice, or those that would might get grabbed too, and Cauldron would get more test subjects." I chuckled darkly. "They're recycling."

Silence stretched between us. "This. . . This is beyond my field of expertise," the other man said slowly. "I, I don't know what's the right call to make here."

I opened my arms, "Welcome to the club. Who's used to working against the Illuminati? Well, who would you trust, I'm sure there's some homeless people who might've been doing so for years." I sighed. "Break works around me, trying to protect me, and just hurts me in the process because he doesn't think. His 'cousins' are a crapshoot. Lady Bug apparently still believes in the system, deep down, and refuses to take off the ladybug colored glasses. Mouse has made it clear that she's a street level Heroine, who will come in and scrap, but doesn't like the level of fucked up she thinks we're working under. I haven't seen Panacea outside of a team meeting in weeks. I haven't seen Glory Girl in longer. And the others? Too many divergent loyalties, too many people who don't know enough, and who I can't trust to tell the truth."

I turned to look at him. "I'm not sure if I told you how it went, during Golden Mourning. The Protectorate tried to fight, emptied out the Birdcage, and they met the Warrior, and held him. Then Eidolon died, and everything fell apart. They managed to get the Endbringers on their side, with Tattletale's help, weirdly enough, but it wasn't enough. Everyone shied away, hoped someone else would save them, refused to stand up and lead, or even fight, and it took a newly mutated power, a stupidly powerful combo, and the deaths of their users to force the others to finally fight, and, because of it, the Parahumans died in the tens of thousands, but it worked, mostly. And I look around, and I see it all over again. 'If I just ignore it, it'll go away', and the people who push others around get to pick off the others who they can bully, and isolate, and overpower."

I smiled sadly, "And others have the power to stand up, to take responsibility of even a small area and make it better, to lead, to help, but they don't, because it's hard. So, here, it falls to us." I paused, fixing him with a gaze as I Saw him. "Unless you want to back out as well, because then it will just be me. You can, you know. I don't make people fight, or help, but without you this entire thing becomes much more difficult."

Quin Calle regarded me. "The standard you are holding them to is high."

"The standard I'm holding them to is what I'm holding myself to. Theirs might be lower," I replied evenly. They didn't have the ability to gain Master powers, and thus couldn't abuse them, like I could. "And you've managed it without issue."

"I'll talk to Lady Bug," he stated, and I blinked at the seeming non-sequitur, before I realized what he meant.

"Agreed, she needs to know about Legend," I sighed. "And I don't think she'll believe it from me."

"The recordings of your last two meetings should be sufficient," he mused, and I shrugged, hoping he was right.

I looked back out at the city, taking strength in it, seeing something good that I had done, with the help of others. "Is there anything else?" I asked my vizier. "I have a few buildings in Dryad's queue I'd like to get to."

"Nothing pressing," he replied.

I nodded, walking out the door, pausing to grip his shoulder in thanks. "I appreciate your help, Overwatch. I really do."

He said nothing as I walked out the door.

AB

With the next set of building grown into being, and more service tunnels created to help run utilities, I felt a lot better as I returned to my office, called dinner up, and started looking over more proposals from Quinn about various projects, requests, and everything else that the man had passed on to me to make the final decision for, complete with write-ups on his opinion on the matter, and why.

Dinner was delivered, and eaten, as I sunk into the paperwork, firing off emails to my vizier for clarifications where needed. He didn't respond, spending the evening with his family, something I didn't begrudge him in the slightest.

"Burning the midnight oil, I see?" called a voice from the door, and I glanced over only for a second, focused as I was on trying to consider the criteria we were going to present for Parahumans that wanted to operate out of the city, but not join either the Penumbral Defenders or Arachne Assemblages.

"Finished with the GISS corpse already, Flamel?" I asked absently. The original draft had had a 'No Villains' policy, but considering how freely that designation was thrown around I'd shot it down. The new version I'd been presented had narrowed it down to any that had been convicted of a Parahuman crime. However, that would also include anyone who'd been convicted of a Parahuman crime and served out their sentence.

The legal system was supposed to function in such a way that, having finished being punished for your crime, you were supposed to be done. To continue to punish them, in perpetuity, with no possibility of redemption?

Fuck that.

Changing the line to convicted and broken our of prison, I glanced up towards Flamel, to, instead, see a very attractive Hispanic woman, pale-faced, staring at me.

"H-how?" she demanded. "How did you I wa-gurk!"

Band of air tightened around her, choking her, as I stood, pulling the blade I kept under my desk as I formed invisible defensive layers between us, my eyes fully open as I Saw her. Alchemical Tinker burned brightly, if it billowed with fear, but the Off-White & Blue Flames were clean, with no hint of crack, veil, or any other indicator of being the Infiltrator.

No, this. . . woman, was indeed Flamel. I'd recognized him by his Flame instead of his voice or appearance. But how could. . . right, Alchemical Tinker. Potions.

Letting all but one of the defensive screens down, I sheathed the sword and mimed pressing something under the desk, the bands of air slowly lowering her to the ground, and loosening to nothingness, letting her breathe in great big gasps of air.

"My apologies," I told her, still guarded. "But someone should've mentioned that we had a Stranger that pretended to be other people, and it's made us a bit. . . jumpy."

The woman massaged her throat, trying to glare at me but too confused to do so properly, as she reached into her purse and pulled out something that, leaning on her power, turned out to be a Concentrated Greater Healing Potion, the discoloration on her neck disappearing as she drank it, bloody marks where she'd caught herself with her own nails as she struggled to breathe closing and vanishing. She closed her eyes, and carefully articulated, "How did you know I was Flamel."

You have the same power. "You sound the same," I answered easily enough, which was also true, though not how I'd ID'd her. At her skeptical look I added, "Not your voice, your pronunciation. It was too close, and the number of people that have clearance to open that door is limited to the PD, the members of AA, which you are here as, and a select few others. That narrowed it down."

"Oh. . . well, that makes things easier," she replied, smiling sultrily. "It's nearly midnight, and I've finally preserved as much as I can, along with everything else you'd been dumping in my lap. Not that I mind. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm very grateful, and a little ouse told me you were single. Now," she said, striding forward.

Tensing, I didn't feel anything carried on the wind, nor was there any kind of extra quality to the sound of her voice, so there wasn't a Master effect, just the natural reaction to her being an attractive woman. Hesitating, I dismissed the outer defense, creating another shell directly around myself.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, and I think we both deserve some. . . play," the eighty-year-old man in the body of a twenty-year-old woman practically purred, and a fuse in my brain was tripped.

"Um, Thanks, and I appreciate it, but no," I replied, politely, but firmly. "Ask said Mouse why."

The man? Woman? Flamel shook. . . let's say her head, smiling. "I understand not wanting to sleep with someone whose life you saved. It can get messy. But I'm making us both a profit, so I'm doing this because I want to."

Thoroughly uncomfortable, I quickly stated, tapping my computer to lock it, "Let's put a pin in that and give me some time to figure out how I feel about May-December romances. I appreciate it, I really do, but, um, no."

Before anything else could be said, I quickly teleported as far away as I could. Standing on the dark side of the moon, I only had one thought.

What. The. Fuck?