Chapter 35: The Best Laid Plans…

The undergrowth cracked and crunched underfoot as Clint and I raced back through the copse, with Thera in hot pursuit. Our car awoke as we drew near, coming to life with a series of beeps and flashes, and as Thera and I threw ourselves into our seats Clint slid smoothly across its hood and leapt in acrobatically from the driver's side.

"Show off," I said reprovingly, and he grinned as he jabbed at the start button and slammed the gear shift into reverse. The wheels spun wildly as we swung around, carving a furrow through the ferns and bracken, and then burst onto the highway in a shower of leaves.

"See? That's S.H.I.E.L.D trainin' !" he said, "'Told you I still got it!"

"Okay, Hawkeye. Real smooth moves," I patted him on the leg. "Just promise me you'll never let Coop see you do that."

"Oh, I'm letting you teach him how to drive," Clint put his foot down hard, and the car surged forward with a rush of power. Even at this speed, though, the gatehouse seemed so far away, and I felt impatience gnawing at my insides as we all but crawled towards it.

"So, you think it's Bill?" I said tensely, "It has to be, right? Liv said he was called in at short notice!"

"What, you reckon he was called in to be a heavy?" Clint said, "Hah. He'd fit the bill, alright."

"Well, he had to have a reason for knocking that merc out, right?" I said, "Or maybe he'd heard that Keame terminated their contract!"

"Or…the merc was bein' an asshole. He could've just pissed him off."

"Whatever happened, I just hope he's okay," I said, nervously, "If there's more of them down there-"

"Then we'll deal with 'em. Like professionals."

"That'll be fun to watch," Thera said, "But just so I'm all caught up; who is Bill, and why is he worth ditching me on a bloody hilltop for?"

"He's Patti's husband," I said, "Remember? We were at her party while you were gatecrashing Helix International."

"Oh, yeah. You've mentioned her before," Thera said, "But…wait, he's married to her? Seriously?"

"Why're you so surprised?"

"'Cause that guy's huge! I just kinda figured that if he's married to anyone it'd be some six foot giantess who eats hammers and accidentally rips doors off their hinges! Vi said Patti was tiny!"

"Vi's not exactly a giant herself," I pointed out. Clint muttered something snide under his breath.

"You'd be amazed at the number of people who haven't figured that out," Thera said, "Okay, fine; clearly I need to reexamine my personal biases - but is there anything else? Aside from his devastating right hook?"

Right on cue, Inky crackled through the radio, "Operational update: Pinky reports that the individual designated 'Bill' has departed the gatehouse in an undersized green civilian vehicle. He appears to be heading towards the administrative complex, bearing zero-three-one."

"Really?" I said, "He's abandoning the gatehouse?"

"No point sticking around," Clint said, "He ain't gonna stop Blacknest all by himself."

"That's true."

"The other individual remains incapacitated. His condition appears stable, but Pinky is confirming now."

"Good. Have her stand guard until we get there," Thera said, "And then…I guess we follow Bill, right?"

"Right," said Clint, "If he's headed back to the main offices, chances are he'll lead us right to Keame."

The car fell into a tense silence as we drew closer to the gatehouse, and every now and then I caught Clint glancing furtively in the rear view mirror. Thera, too, seemed to be unusually focused, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I looked for any signs of danger. It certainly looked like we'd beaten Blacknest to the punch, but it was by no means a guarantee. I'd been unconscious for a while, after all, and who knew how quickly Pexley could rustle up an army?

"Road's clear," Thera said tersely, as we approached the turnoff, "No signs of a convoy or… any other road traffic, for that matter."

"It is quiet out here," I agreed, "You think that's good or bad?"

"Beats me," Thera shrugged, "Clyde'll let us know if anything turns up, but we'd better be quick. If we can, I vote we grab Keame and go."

"Not without the List," I said, "Remember, that's what we're here for."

"That and Pexley. That guy ain't leaving this refinery alive."

"You really think he'll turn up?"

"'Count on it, hon. I must've dealt with people like him a hundred times before. He'll be here."

"Really?" Thera also sounded dubious, "The guy's got an Avenger and Ronin breathing down his neck. If I were him, I'd be looking for a really big rock to hide under."

"Yeah, but even you have moments of lucidity. Pexley's just a walking ego. We stood up to him, killed his men…if he thinks there's even the slightest chance of getting even, he won't be able to stay away. His pride won't allow it."

"Sure, but-"

"Let's talk about this later, okay?" Clint said, "Game faces, people. We're comin' up on the gatehouse."

Despite Thera's assurances that the gatehouse was clear of mercenaries, or at least conscious mercenaries, Clint still pulled up a short distance away and watched cautiously for signs of life. Although the lights were still on, there were no signs of motion through the large bay window, and after a few minutes observation even he had to accept that the area was probably safe.

"I'm not being paranoid," he protested, in the face of Thera's increasingly impatient gaze, "I'm just being careful!"

"Uh-huh," Thera said flatly, "So, are we going to be equally careful with every building we come across? Only I didn't pack dinner, so…"

"Why don't you stop trying to be funny and make yourself useful?" Clint said, testily, "That barrier's still down. Go raise it."

"Probably safer to let Pinky do it. Hold on," Thera swiped his hands through the air, and then said, "Oh, c'mon! Seriously?"

"What's wrong?"

"She's off chasing a squirrel. A flying squirrel. I didn't even know they could do that," he said, and with a groan he put his head in his hands, "Yes, Pinky, it's very interesting, but you were meant to be watching the gatehouse!"

"Good thing at least one of us was being careful, eh?" Clint said, and Thera shot him a positively venomous glare, "Want me to go check it out?"

"No, I'll go. Guess I'd better double check that merc, anyway," Thera said, and with an irritated huff he reached for the door handle, "Wisps, eh?"

"Wouldn't know."

"No, guess not," Thera said. There was a click as he closed the door behind him and set off towards the gatehouse, muttering darkly all the way.

"Well, this is going to be fun," Clint muttered.

"Leave him be," I chided him, gently, "He's here, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but he's not gonna be much use if those little drones of his're just going to wander off whenever the feeling takes 'em," Clint said, "I'm tellin' you, all this magic and technology around these days is makin' people lazy. Back in the day-"

"I know, I know," I said, with a smile, "But be nice. He's clearly on edge as it is, so let's not push him over it. The last thing I want is to have to explain to Strange why he went nuclear on our watch."

We watched through the large bay window as Thera investigated the gatehouse interior. He scanned the room, gave us a brief thumbs up, and pushed something on the wall before kneeling down out of sight. A moment later, and with a squeak of unoiled hinges, the security gate rose ponderously to an upright position, and Clint wasted no time in slipping through before it lowered again. As we passed by the gatehouse, Thera reappeared at the door and quickly climbed back onboard.

"Easy peasy!" he said, earlier anger clearly forgotten, "Nobody's home. Well, there was that unconscious mercenary, but he doesn't count."

"Is he okay?" I asked. It wasn't like I really cared what happened to some Blacknest goon, but it seemed to matter to Thera.

"He'll have a hell of a headache when he comes around, and he'll need to be kept under observation for a day or so… but, yeah, he'll be fine," Thera said, and added brightly, "I left a note!"

"Of course you did."

"Operational update," Inky piped up, "The car taken by 'Bill' has come to a halt outside the largest building in the administrative complex. He has disembarked, and is currently proceeding towards the entrance."

"So he did go back to the head office," I said, "Keame's gotta be there, right?"

"Additional data is required."

"Sorry, Inky, I wasn't…never mind," I looked over at Clint, "I guess we should check it out, shouldn't we?"

"Better than waiting 'round here," he agreed. With a whirr of electrics he steered the car onto the wide, unmarked road that led to the refinery itself, and accelerated sharply. The scrubby grassland stretching off on either side blurred, and then gave way to dull, steel pipework and row after row of walled-off tanks. Clint shifted uneasily in his seat.

"Alright," he said, "Keep your eyes peeled for that Arachnid. Can't see a damn thing amongst these buildings, and the last thing we want to do is run into-"

"The Arachnid is six hundred twenty seven metres away, bearing two-seven-five," Inky's voice crackled, "It does not appear to be reacting to our presence."

"Well, what do you know?" Thera said, with a relieved smile, "We might not die after all!"

I raised an eyebrow, "Is that your way of saying 'Well done, Laura! I guess you were right all along!'? Because that's what I was, wasn't I, Thera. I was right."

"Sure, in the same way that a stopped clock is right twice a day," he said, "But if it'll make you happy…fine; one-nil to the Bartons. Treasure it."

"Oh, I will."

"Grand; Inky? Set a perimeter alert at four hundred meters. Let me know the instant that thing starts crawling in our direction."

"Confirmed."

Thera smiled briefly at the radio, and then settled back to stare out the window. A shadow passed ahead, and then another, and when I turned back to the front I saw we were driving through a mind-bending array of metal latticework and multi-coloured pipes. They snaked around and above us, twisting between buildings and reactors, and as the forest of steel thickened the light faded, becoming dark and dingy beneath the glinting stacks, far overhead. I shivered.

"You know, I bet a lot of people get lost in here," Clint said, apparently reading my mind, "What d'ya reckon the chances are that there's a long-lost tribe of refinery workers hiding out, biding their time and just waitin' for the chance to take over?"

"C'mon," I said, "What would they eat?"

"Other refinery workers, I guess," he said, "Tap off some oil, boil 'em up…good eating around the glutes, if you know what to look for."
"I don't even want to know how you know that, hon."

"Years of experience," he said, "Speakin' of which, we kinda need to think about what we're gonna do with or to Keame. Right now, I'm pretty flexible."

"Hold your horses, tough guy," I said, "You saw what he was like in St. Louis; there's no way we're going to be able to force him to hand over the List. We need a plan."

"Yeah," Clint agreed, "So…do you have one, hon?"

"What, a plan?" I gave him an incredulous look, "Why would I have a plan?"

"Because you're the one who knows what you're doin'," he said, bluntly, "This ain't my area of expertise, and since Thera can start a fight in an empty bar-"

"-can and has-" said Thera, as he watched a particularly complex piece of pipework go past.

"-that kinda leaves you. You broke him in half in St. Louis, so if anyone can do this-"

"Right. Yeah," I said, and smiled weakly, "No pressure, eh?"

"So what do we do?" Clint grinned, "Ma'am."

"Cut that out!" I slapped at his arm, "Let me think about this…"

Okay. So…what did we want? The List, obviously, but getting it away from Keame wasn't going to be an easy undertaking. The man had faced down Ronin without blinking, for goodness' sake, and for an encore he'd terminated Blacknest's contract on the spot despite a host of Pexley's goons. Whether it was bravery, honour, or bullheaded stupidity was entirely beside the point; if we tried to use force, he'd just dig in further. Besides, Pexley was the thug here, not us.

If not force, then how could we convince him to hand it over? Up on that stage, Keame had made it pretty clear he wasn't about to give the List to just anyone. At one point, not long ago, I'd thought that was because he was using it to grow a criminal and political power base. Now? I wasn't so sure. The man I'd met had been a Blip supremacist, and he'd happily riled up those rally goers, but blackmail? Extortion? Those felt like lines he wouldn't cross, or wouldn't cross willingly. Besides, he clearly loved his son, and it sounded like he cared about his employees, or at least he had before the Blip. Surely there was something in all of that I could use…

"You really think so?" said my little voice, "The guy's spent his whole career building himself up as a leader; a 'visionary CEO', the 'Voice of the Lost'. Even before the Blip, he clearly believed his purpose was to guide the great unwashed into a better future. Why would he give up the very thing that can help him fulfil his messianic ambitions?"

"Because he's wrong?"

"Obviously, but that's not helpful."

"Or…maybe it is," I said, as a thought suddenly dawned, "Keame believes himself to be an honourable guy, right? If we could show him that there was a better person for the job, then…"

"You think he'd step aside?"

"Out of a sense of duty? Sure," I said, "I mean, it's got to be worth a shot, right?"

"For you?"

"Why not me?"

"Because you're a random woman who's spent the last twenty years living off the grid, that's why! One pretty speech doth not a summer make."

"Mmm," that was an irritatingly good point. "Okay, but what if I didn't need to convince him that I was the best for the job? Maybe all we need to do is-"

"-is what?" Thera's voice intruded on my thoughts, and I looked up to see him staring curiously in my direction. "Sorry. You were muttering to yourself."

"She does that," Clint remarked, "You've no idea how many times I've thought she was on the phone, only to find her starin' out the window. I thought she was going insane."

"Vi does it all the time, at least when she's painting." Thera said, "Apparently, her psychiatrist said it was a sign of genius."

"That's exactly what I said!" I said, and looked archly at Clint, "Do you believe me now, hon?"

"Well, a shrink's a bit more compellin' than an article you printed off the Internet," he said, "But c'mon, you've got to admit that you're a bit nuts."

"I did marry you, I suppose."

"QED."

"So, Laura," Thera said, "Lovely though this is, does this mean you've come up with a plan?"

"The beginnings of one. I think," I said, "I'll need more time to think it over. Preferably without further interruption-"

Rather predictably, Inky's voice came blaring through the speakers, "Operational update: Blinky has located the Arachnid maintenance bay. It contains an additional five Arachnids, all in a state of dormancy."

"Really?" Clint said, "Can he destroy 'em?"

"Negative. A strike powerful enough to neutralise the Arachnids carries an unacceptable risk of reactor overload. Conventional explosives are advised."

"Damn."

"However, the Arachnids appear to be connected to refinery security through a communications hub. If severed, it may prevent future activation. Blinky is requesting permission to proceed."

"Seems like a good shout," Thera said, and Clint nodded, "Go for it, Inky."

There was a pause, and then, "Hub connection broken. Blinky is continuing to map the refinery."

"They're just loaded with tricks, aren't they," Clint gave the radio an amused look, "I'd almost feel threatened, if they didn't run off to chase down the local wildlife."

"Hey, that's not fair on Pinky!" Thera said, "She might be a bit of a flake, but she always comes through in the end. And speaking of which…have you gotten in contact with Fury yet?"
"Gettin' closer," Clint said, "Hill said he was in the middle of something, but he'd call me back ASAP."

"The 'middle of something'?"

"'Best not to ask, buddy."

"Fine, well…when you do talk to him, tell him to tell Strange to come to us. The last thing I want is to be suddenly yoinked through a portal like that poor Loki. I've seen the videos."

"'Poor' Loki?" Clint's eyebrows shot up, "You know that asshole brainwashed me, right?"

"Really? I figured you'd be immune," Thera said blandly, "I'm just worried that that if he suddenly drags me halfway 'round the world while Inky's logged in Laura's brain, the shock'll snap my mind in two. I mean…it might not, but considering what that'd mean for the both of us I'd rather not put it to the test."

"Do you really think he'd do something like that? I know you don't like him, but-"

"Hold on; I might not like him, but I don't dislike him either," Thera said, "I respect him, but…he worries me. No, scratch that; he scares me!"

"What, 'cause he's on your case?"

"Nah. Compared to life under the Empowered Persons Act, he's a breeze. At least he doesn't make me wear a suppressor."

"So why?"

"Because he spends a lot of time playing fast and loose with forces that nobody, least of all him, should be touching with a ten-foot barge pole! I can feel what he's doing from here, Clint, and let me tell you - it feels wrong."

"If he didn't push the envelope, you'd still be dead," said Clint, "We only beat Thanos by takin' risks!"

"And taking risks is how he's going to 'accidentally' end up punching great big holes in the fabric of the universe!" Thera said, "Mark my words, Clint; if Wong and the others can't keep him in check, sooner or later he's going to do something he won't be able to smarm his way out of. I just hope he doesn't take us all down with him."

"Fine, I'll mark 'em. But what do you want Fury to tell him? 'Please don't yank me through a portal'?"

"That'd be nice, yeah. But…" Thera thought for a moment, and then a nasty little smile crossed his face, "Tell him that his contemporary cordially invites him to collaboratively push the boundaries of neuromedicine. As one of the foremost neurologists on the planet and a Master of the Mystic Arts, his unique insights into a case of particular complexity and utmost importance would be more gratefully appreciated."

"Jesus, Thera," I said, "I had no idea you could be so obsequious!"

"Yeah, no kidding," Clint sniggered, "You want me to say there'll be wine and crackers, too?"

"If you have some, sure," Thera said, "Look, I've been dealing with difficult consultants since I was a trainee; I know how to lure 'em in. But if you feel like a bit of sincerity would help, then…"

"What?"

"Tell him that I really, really need his help."

The sun was just beginning to set as we left the forest of pipework and smokestacks, and bathed the world in an unearthly crimson hue. The main offside stood dead ahead, its sweeping contours arcing proudly into the sky, and its expansive glass frontage glowed brilliantly in the light. About halfway up the front, and highlighted in striking neon-blue lighting, was the name 'Keame Refineries', presumably just in case anyone wasn't entirely certain where they were.

"Christ!" Clint muttered, and yanked down his sun visor, "Who thought this was a good idea?"
"It's very…bright," I agreed, shielding my eyes against the glare.

"No kidding. I gotta say, it's a bit…more than I was expectin'. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was trying to imitate Stark."

"You think?" I said dubiously. Sure, it was impressive in its own way, but it wasn't really up to Stark levels of narcissistic ostentation. Where were the fountains? The pools? The collections of vintage cars? Stark's buildings were clearly a monument to his ego and his wealth, while this was just…an office building. It was a nice one, but in the end I was pretty sure the only parties this place ever held were achingly awkward Christmas do's and the AGM.

Not for the first time, I was struck by the sheer banality of the situation. After all, this was Keame's HQ; the supposed lair of the man who was, ultimately, responsible for almost everything that'd happened to us since the Blip! Why wasn't this place underwater, or on top of some far-flung mountain? Okay, so Missouri was landlocked and it's collection of mountains was…limited, to say the least, but was it too much to ask him to put some effort in? Just a little? I caught Clint's eye as we turned into the empty parking lot, and from the faint grin and amusement dancing in his eyes, I could tell he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"Ay up, guys; green car," Thera said, and nodded to the small vehicle parked near the main entrance.

"I see it," I said, and looked at it disbelievingly, "That's not Bill's car, is it?"

"That is the only car that has transitioned between the gatehouse and the main office within the last hour," Inky said, through my phone, "There are no other candidates available."

"That was a rhetorical question, Inky," I said, "But how'd he fit?"

"That is unclear. Regardless, I have further updates from Pinky and Blinky."

"Pinky? Really?" Thera said, "What, did she run out of squirrels?"

"Correct."

"Oh. That was quick."

"She has now infiltrated the offices and has commenced mapping. A first pass indicates twenty-two individual neuroelectric signatures, including those attributable to both Keame and Bill."

"Well, it's good to know he's in there," I said, and there was a rumble of agreement from the other two.

"Blinky has located what appears to be the Blacknest armoury. It is deserted, and he is currently taking an inventory. Of note are several boxes containing high calibre rounds. If conflict arises, we may be confronted with anti-materiel weaponry."

"Hmm. That'd be inconvenient," Thera said, "Okay. Tell Blinky to weld the door shut when he's done and rendezvous with Pinky. Stay out of sight."

"Confirmed."

"Okay," Clint said, tensely, "I hope you're been able to think through your plan, hon, 'cause-"

His phone buzzed, suddenly, and as I steadied my rapidly beating heart he dug it out of his pocket and stared, wide-eyed, at the screen. A moment later, his face split open into a grin, and I felt a sudden surge of hope, deep inside.

"It's Fury!" He said, and Thera looked up, "Look, guys; I gotta take this-"

"We know!" Thera said excitedly, "Do it! Quick!"

"You'll need to get out of the car, buddy," he said, and then looked at me, almost apologetically, "You too, hon. You know what Fury's like."

"Unfortunately," I said, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, "No pressure, but my life is kind of riding on this conversation, so…"

"Don't worry. I got this," he said, and indicated Thera with a slight inclination of his head, "Besides, there's always Plan B."

Quickly, Thera and I scrambled out of the car and crossed the parking lot to the main doors. Our footsteps echoed noisily as we walked, and I felt a stab of anxiety as I searched fruitlessly for signs of life. The atmosphere was tense, almost electric; somehow, it felt as if the refinery itself knew what was coming, and it was worried.

"How're you feeling?" Thera asked quietly.

"About Keame?" I said, "Maybe I'm a little nervous."

He inclined his head, "Just a little?"

"Okay, a lot," I said, and blew a stray hair out of my eyes, "This feels important."

"It is important."

"And we could fail."

"We could," Thera said, and then he smiled ever-so-slightly, "I'd rather we didn't, though, if it's all the same to you."

In the awkward silence that followed, our gazes fell on the car. Clint was still inside, and I could see him gesticulating emphatically as he talked on the phone. Was that a good sign? Fury was nobody's messenger boy, but surely he'd be prepared to make an exception just this once, right? He and Clint went back decades, and he must owe Clint at least one or two favours. If nothing else, saving the universe and his life surely had to count for something!

"Laura? We need to talk," Thera said, suddenly and seriously. "That neural breakdown event isn't going to wait forever-"

"I know!" I said, more sharply than I intended, "And I told you I'd think about it!"

"Which rather begs the question; what is there to think about?" He said, and I could hear the bite of frustration in his voice, as plain as day, "Do you actually want to die?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then what are you hoping is going to happen in the next hour or so? What miracle are you waiting for? If I could just understand…"

"Well, isn't this interesting?" said my inner voice, "Fury picks up the phone, and suddenly Thera's pressuring you for a decision! What're you going to do, Laura?"

"I don't know!" I said, half to Thera and half to myself, "Maybe I am holding out for a miracle! One where I'll be able to go back to a normal life, instead of one where I might accidentally die of thirst!"

Thera folded his arms, "So, what, was being resurrected and receiving my Goddess' personal favour not miraculous enough for you? You want more? You think you deserve more?"

"No, of course not-"

"Because there are people out there with nothing - less than nothing, in fact! You've met them!"

"I know! I'm trying to help them!"

"How? By dropping dead of indecisiveness?" He snapped, and then his eyes fell, "I'm sorry. That was too much."

"Yeah."

Thera took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he spoke, it was in a slow, measured tone that sounded as if he was talking to himself as much as me, "Your reasons are your own. I have to respect that. Goddess! This is exactly why we shouldn't treat friends!"

"'Friends'?" I raised my eyebrows, "Wait, did you just call me your 'friend', Thera? Did I hear that right?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, and exhaled heavily, "Honestly, Laura, I'm worried for you. Whatever you choose to do, I promise you I'll do everything I can to help, but…this hurts to watch. It'd be much easier if you'd let me help you."

"I know, and thanks," I patted him gently on the shoulder, "'Friend'."

"I'm going to regret saying that, aren't I."

"Aw, I think it's sweet. Does Vi know you have friends?"

"So that's a 'yes', then-" he paused, as the click of a car door echoed across the parking lot, "Oh, thank the Goddess. Here comes the lesser of two evils."

I looked back just in time to see Clint vault out of the car. As he came hurrying towards us, I caught his eye and was rewarded with a large smile. Deep inside, I felt a rush of relief; whatever he'd said to Fury, it must've gotten through.

"What's goin' on here, then?" he asked.

"I believe we're having what is referred to as 'a moment'," said Thera, "Please make it stop."

"Gladly," Clint said, clearly enjoying the mystic's discomfort, "So I talked to Fury…and he's agreed to get in contact with Strange."

"Thank you, hon," I said, "What'd you say to him?"

"Um, well…a couple of things," he said, with a shifty glance at Thera, "And, uh, he wasn't exactly happy about it, but I might've kind've possibly twisted his arm. A little."

"You twisted Fury's arm? We're going to pay for that later, aren't we?"

"Probably, but who cares, right? I'm retiring," Clint grinned, "So…I guess Strange will get back to us when-"

"-it's as inconvenient as possible, I expect," Thera said, "He's got a knack for it."

"No kidding," I agreed, "But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now? We're dealing with Keame."

"You got a plan, hon?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," I said, and then added, "I think so."

"Amazin'. Can't wait to hear it," Clint said, and chuckled wryly, "Y'know, back in the day, a 'plan' used to involve loads of gear and a HALO jump from a S.H.I.E.L.D. stealth plane onto a private island. Now, it means parking up the family SUV in the staff parking lot and walkin' in the front door."

"Do we have an appointment?" Thera asked, "Maybe we should phone ahead."

"Now you're just rubbin' it in."
"Not at all! This staid approach is way better than some ridiculously exciting, high-octane HALO jump! It's safer, comfier, and with that big boot you'll even be able to get the shopping in on the way home!"

"I know you're trying to be funny, but you're right," Clint chuckled again, "If Nat could see us now, she'd probably die laughing."

"Really?" Thera said, "I've heard you guys talk about her, and if she's half the woman you've made her out to be, I think she'd be proud of you. She gave you guys a second chance and you didn't bugger it up…much."

"Charming."

"What can I say? Silver medals all around," Thera grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder, "C'mon, mate. One last push, and we can all go home."

"Yeah," I said, with a smile of my own, "One last time. For Nat."

"For Nat," Clint said solemnly, "So…what's the plan?"

"The plan's simple."

A few minutes later, we were ready. Or, I supposed, as ready as we were ever going to be.

"We all know Keame. He's smart, honourable, and just a bit of an egotist. As long as he believes he's the true 'Voice of the Lost', he's never going to give us that List."

The large, glass doors of Keame Refineries HQ loomed before us, stained a deep blood-red in the light of the setting sun. This was it; this was what we'd been aiming for all along, and there was too much riding on it to back down now. Poppy, Alvin, all those people at the Blip Centre and more besides, abandoned and set adrift while Keame and Pexley played politics with their lives. They were depending on us, even if they didn't know it, and if we failed here…

"You okay, hon?" Clint said, and touched me gently on the shoulder, "You ready?"

"I'm ready," I said, "I'm just not feeling great about what we're about to do."

"Yeah? I'd consider it payback."

I cracked a slight smile at that and stepped forwards. The doors slid open silently at my approach.

"So what're we going to do? We're going to show him just how wrong he is."

The reception was a large, welcoming space that had clearly had a lot of thought put into its design. Directly ahead of us was a gently curved reception desk, painted in welcoming hues of blue and green, with the words 'Keame Refineries' emblazoned on the front. On one side there was a small canteen, and on the other large, comfortable looking sofas sat in private alcoves or amongst planters filled with brightly coloured flowers. The impressive foliage wasn't just restricted to the floor, either; lush displays of greenery covered every inch of wall, and for a moment I felt like I was more outdoors than when I was outdoors.

"Neat," Thera said.

"Showy," Clint snorted.

"That too, but plants are good for mental health," Thera said, "You have no idea how long I've been pushing for them around the hospital. These living walls would make a great addition."

"Sure. So where's Keame?"

"Pinky has located Keame on the fifth floor, in a room that is presumably his private office," Inky said, "He is with the individual from the gatehouse."

"Gotta be Bill," I said, and Clint nodded, "Gotta be."

"The other individuals appear to be clustered towards the rear of the building. I would recommend that we avoid contact until more information can be gathered."

"Sure. So how do-"

"Please proceed past the reception desk and take the staircase to the fifth floor. There do not appear to be any security measures en route."

"Great," I said, and took a long, deep breath, "Let's go, guys."

"We need to show him the suffering he's caused through his arrogance and negligence. Now he's seen Blacknest's true colours, he's got to be questioning every choice he's made since the Blip, and we're going to capitalise on that…"

We followed Inky's directions down a spacious corridor, decorated with a detailed timeline of the refinery's history. As we walked past grainy, black-and-white photos of the ever-growing site, I stole a glance at Thera. He was a complete mess; torn clothes, beaten black and blue, with scabs and angry weals where Pexley's goons had been extra vicious. Despite his injuries he soldiered on, his face a picture of grim determination, but when he caught my eye a faint smile played across his lips.

"Keep it up, Thera," I said, encouragingly, "You look like crap."

"So do you," he pointed out, "Are you sure you don't want me to-"

"I'm sure," I said, my fingers going briefly to my badly swollen cheek, "I want Keame to see us like this. It's his goons that hurt us, after all."

"Mmm. Point," he said, "You think I should add a limp?"

I shook my head, "No. Just…no. Stick to the script. Remember-"

"-cold hearted bastard," he said, and there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, "Yeah, I know."

"...through you, Thera. He abandoned you! You called for help, and no-one came! You gave everything you had, literally everything, while he just sat on his laurels and looked good for the camera! If there's anyone here who has a right to be angry, it's you, so tear into him, break him down, and be a relentless, cold-hearted bastard. There's no crowd to save him here."

If any part of this worried me, it was that. Thera could be chilly and aloof with the best of them, but he wasn't malicious. He'd tried with Caleb, or at least put up a front, but when the torturer had broken down and begged he'd folded on the spot. What would happen if Keame did the same? Would he have it in him to keep on twisting the knife, or would I have to step in to finish the job? Something told me I already knew the answer.

"He'll come through, hon," Clint murmured, just loud enough for me to hear, "Don't second-guess yourself now."

I gave him a long, lingering look, "How do you always know what I'm thinking?"

"'Cause you just told me," he said, with an easy grin. For once, though, it wasn't his smile that had my attention. After I'd outlined our plan of attack, he'd gone straight back to the car to change. When he'd reappeared, dressed head to toe in his matte-black commando leathers, Thera'd taken one look, shaken his head, and gone to work with impressive efficiency. Within a matter of moments, the bruises he'd received from Vi vanished under a gentle golden glow, and the end result was nothing less than the walking, talking personification of my Hawkeye-based dreams. Had the situation not been so pressing, my self-control probably would've buckled on the spot; as it was, my mind was already taking notes for later…

"Um, yes…of course," I said, absently. Was it hot in here, or was it just me?"

"You okay, hon?" Clint said, and looked a little worried, "You said to dress the part, right?"

"I did, and you're perfect!" I said, and hastily corrected myself, "I mean it's perfect! I-"

Thera grinned, "Yeah, I think it's safe to say we've hit the mark."

"Hey!" I objected, and felt my cheeks prickle, "I'm just, um…"

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Laura; we're all adults here. Personally, I think it's adorable."

"You would," I said acidly, and quickly changed the subject, "Inky? Where're the stairs?"

"The stairs are through the fire doors immediately to your right," Inky said, "Please ascend to the fifth level."

"Thank you."

"Breaking Keame is only half the battle. We also need to convince him that we're his natural successors, and that's where you come in, hon. Thera and I are both random nobodies, but you? You're Hawkeye! Just having you in the room will show Keame how serious we are, but that means you've got to look the part. You need to be every inch the self-made Avenger who brought him back from the dead, and that means we need to do something about those bruises…"

Without another word I strode purposely through the doors, hoping against hope that neither of them had spotted just how red my cheeks were. On the other side, the stairwell led upwards in a wide, sweeping spiral, shaded once again in calming tones of blue and green. I took the stairs two at a time, and as I climbed Thera's voice floated up towards me.

"You know what? Vi was right," he was saying, "When you dress like this, I can almost believe you're an Avenger. Almost."

Clint snorted, "That means a lot, comin' from a guy who's been dressed by a hurricane."

Thera laughed warmly in response, and I smiled despite myself, "You know what? I like lippy Clint. He's so much more fun than that gruff, brooding bugger who takes himself way too seriously!"

"Hey, I can be fun!"

"Really? Because I thought you were just a repository of bad Dad jokes!"

"Funny you should say that, actually," Clint said, "'Cause I thought up a new one on the way here."

"You did?" Thera said eagerly, "C'mon, let's hear it!"

"You sure? It's pretty bad."
"They're all bad, mate. That's the appeal."

"Well, okay…" Clint paused. "Why didn't Thor's brother want a big birthday party?"

"I dunno," Thera said, "Why didn't Thor's brother want a big birthday party?"
"Because he's Loki!" Clint said triumphantly, "Get it? Loki? Low-key?"

There was a momentary silence, and then Thera laughed again, "Goddess, Clint; that's terrible! I mean, I love it, but it's terrible."

"Add it to the list?"

"Add it to the list, and, um…"

"What?"

"If you've got any advice about…well, y'know…" Thera hesitated, and plunged on, "Look, for some crazy reason your kids seem to absolutely adore you, and I don't meet many dads socially, so…"

"Oh, that? It's simple," Clint said, "Most of its about settin' boundaries-"

"We have reached the fifth floor," Inky said, suddenly, "Keame's office is across the hallway, through two sets of double doors. Please proceed with caution."

"To be continued, I guess," Thera said, as they came up behind me, "What's the matter, Inky?"

"Pinky reports that the large individual from the gatehouse, designated 'Bill', is still armed and appears to be in a state of heightened arousal. I would recommend a nonaggressive approach."

"Way ahead of you, Inky," I said, "Remember, guys, we're just here to talk."

"We all know what's riding on this. If we don't get that List, Keame'll use it to divide us all. Poppy, Bulgakov, Flora? They'll just be the beginning. We have to stop him, and I know we can, because ultimately…"

With a deep breath, I pushed my way through the fire doors into yet another large, airy corridor. Unlike the lower floors, the carpeting here was a deep red, and the walls were lined with large pictures of the Keame family, set within ornate, sculpted frames of wood and metal. Directly ahead were two oaken doors, next to which was a small, surprisingly plain sign:

REGINALD KEAME

CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER

"Well, here we are," I smiled weakly at the others. "We're ready, right?"

"'As we're gonna be," Clint said, and Thera nodded in agreement. "No backing down now."

"Good," I said, and raised my hand to knock. "Well, no matter what happens…"

"…we're a team. I think we've been a team longer than any of us realise. Sure, we don't have matching uniforms, or a group pose, and our ride is an environmentally-friendly SUV purchased on credit, but you know what? None of that matters! We're not here to kick ass; we're here because we want our kids to grow up remembering the Blip as something that happened to them, not something that defines them. That's what Nat would've wanted, and it's how we can truly honour her sacrifice. Not a memorial, not a scrapbook, but by making sure the world she left for us is one worth living in."

"That's the plan."

My gentle tap echoed hollowly up and down the corridor, and I mentally braced myself for a burst of panicked gunfire. Nothing happened, and I wavered between tapping again and trying the door handle.

"Try again," Clint suggested, "Maybe they're just hidin' under the table."

"Okay," I raised my voice, "Keame? Bill? Are you there? It's Laura. Laura Barton? We-"

The door creaked open, just a crack.

"Laura? Oh my god, it is you! It's-" I jumped backwards as the door burst open, and Bill came barreling into the corridor with an enormous grin plastered beneath that bristling moustache, "It's you, and Clint, and…good lord! What's happened to you?"

"Pexley happened," I said, and brushed my fingers against my face, "'Turns out he hits like a goddamn truck."

Bill's lip curled in disgust, "That man's an animal, strikin' a defenceless woman like that. If I ever get my hands on him, then I swear-"

"Yeah, that's not happening," Clint said, in a chillingly matter-of-fact tone, "'Cause between Ronin and myself, I'm pretty sure there won't be enough of him left to fill a thimble."

"Hah, don't I know it," Bill said, "I saw that fight in St. Louis! Everyone here did! Christ, I knew you look familiar, but I never dreamed you were actually…"

Clint's eyebrows went up, "Actually…?"

"Hawkguy, of course! You even brought the gear!" Bill gestured at his bow, "My little lady's gonna flip when she hears that we had a real life Avenger at our party, and when I tell our neighbours-"

"Don't, please. Let 'em work it out for themselves," Clint said, "I'm not in it for the accolades, Bill, and I don't want people following me around or making life difficult for my family! It's hard enough keeping my kids' feet on the ground as it is!"

"Yeah, I get it. You want to keep your identity secret," Bill winked conspiratorially, "If you ask me, it sounds like one of Allegra's shows, but…I won't say anything."

"Thanks, Bill."

"No, thank you. You brought back my Arietta," he said, thickly, "Sure, it ain't all sunshine and rainbows, but when I see 'em all playing together…there's no words for what you've done for us, Hawkguy. There just ain't."

"But you saved the universe! Half the people at that party were only alive 'cause of you!" Bill protested, "You brought back my Arietta! It's been confusing, sure, but when I see 'em all playing together…there's no words for what you've done for us, Hawkguy. There just ain't."

"I don't need words, Bill. I got everything I ever dreamed of."

Thera stepped forward. "Hey, guys? This is all lovely, but we need to speak to Keame, and we need to do it now. Can you let us in?"

"Who're you?" Bill said, and then his eyes narrowed. "Wait, you're that Brit! The one who got up on stage with Keame!"

"Um…" Thera looked to me for help, and shrugged. "I guess?"

"So what's your story? You an Avenger, too? You got a callsign?"

"C'mon; do I look like an Avenger? And no, I left my callsign behind long ago."

I looked at him incredulously, "You had a callsign?"

"We don't talk about it much," Thera grimaced, "Honestly, it was a PR disaster."

"Well, whoever you are, just know you're walkin' on thin ice 'round these parts," Bill said darkly, "A lot of the boys weren't happy with your accusations."

"I'll be sure to bear that in mind."

"Keame's a good man, y'hear? A good boss!" Bill went on, "He's always taken care of us, an' we ain't just gonna stand here an' listen to you claimin' that he's sendin' hitmen to do his dirty work! He ain't got any dirty work!"

"I'm surprised you're so loyal to him. Really, I am," Thera said, "Especially considering that he's literally advocating for people like you to be tossed out on the street so the people who got Blipped can pretend it never happened!"

"Of course he is! He's grieving for his boy! We're all struggling, Terry-"

"-Thera-"

"-so why doncha cut him a little slack and give him space to work through it?"

The air crackled dangerously as the two men stared at each other. Thera's gaze, normally a mixture of anxiety and amusement, was now cold and unyielding, his eyes hard as agates. They bored mercilessly into Bill, and while I wasn't the subject of his attention I still felt my hairs stand up on end.

Before anyone could move, Keame's voice rang through the door. Considering everything he'd been through recently, his tone was surprisingly calm, "Are you okay, Bill? Who is it?"

Bill glared at Thera and then turned away, "It's Laura Barton, boss! She's brought Hawkguy with her, and…that Brit."

Thera's lips quirked, ever so slightly.

"Really? Right on time!" Keame said, "Let them in! Quickly!"

"You sure, boss? Even-"

"Even Thera, yes. We have a lot to discuss."

"But…" Bill wavered for just a moment, his lip curled in anger, but then he stepped aside to let us through, "Just watch your tone with the boss, Terry. Any more stunts like St. Louis, and you'll answer to me."

"Uh-huh," Thera said, and flashed me a brief look, "Well, this is your gig, mate. Ladies first?"

My first thought on entering Keame's office was 'finally!'. Here was the ridiculously extravagant display of wealth that I'd been looking for all along! It was enormous, with an impressively curved ceiling, extravagant wood-panelled walls, and a spectacular view of the refinery through huge, floor-to-ceiling windows. To my right was a U-shaped boardroom table, fashioned from finely polished oak, over which a large, black monitor loomed ominously. The only other piece of furniture was a glass-fronted sideboard, standing against the wall. It looked suspiciously similar to the one I'd seen in the Playground, but instead of single malts and expensive liquors, the only drinks I could see was a jug of water and some stacked plastic cups, sitting on the top.

On the left-

"Whoa," Clint muttered under his breath.

-was a desk so large it might as well have been a throne. Carved from a deep red wood, possibly even mahogany, it was designed so that anyone sitting in its large, leather armchair would be staring down across the room. It was domineering, a clear power move, and…curiously unused. In fact, it looked as if it hadn't been used in quite some time, with the only item of note being a large name plate that declared, in bright gold lettering:

DR. WILFRED KEAME PhD MSc (Hons)

CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER

Compared to that enormous desk, the rest of the furniture seemed comparatively simple, almost out of place amongst the finery. Nearby, on a rather well-worn rug, stood a circular table surrounded by a large, comfortable looking sofa, and in the far corner was an 'L' shaped desk that looked suspiciously as if it'd been assembled from a flatpack. Although it was partially obscured by Wilfred's monstrosity, I could see from here that it, at least, was seeing some use. Tidy stacks of papers covered almost every inch of available desk space, and what wasn't covered by paper was taken up by an expensive-looking curved monitor. Presumably that was Keame's real desk, but what message was he trying to send by using it?

"And once again I feel like I picked the wrong career," Thera sighed, "Not that I had much of a choice, but-"

There was a cough from somewhere behind the monitor, and then Keame's voice floated across the room, "From what I've heard, sir, that couldn't be further from the truth."

The mystic tensed, suddenly, and when he spoke icicles hung on every syllable, "I'm very glad to hear that, Keame. It means a lot, coming from you."

"Hey!" Bill growled, "I told you to-"

"Bill, Bill! It's okay," Keame said, quite calmly. There was a squeak of a chair on wood, and then he slowly unfolded to his full height, "Besides, how often is it that we have guests come to our humble refinery?"

"Humble, yeah," Thera nodded stiffly at the desk, "That's the first thing I thought when I saw that. 'Humble'."

"Indeed," Keame said, and laughed briefly, "I apologise wholeheartedly for the decor. It's a little anachronistic, I agree, but then Father had a very anachronistic view of how this company should be run. He always viewed himself as a king, but I never understood why; in the end, we're all on the same team, after all."

"Yes, boss," said Bill, loyally.

"Of course, the other problem is that nobody can actually work out how to get rid of it, short of smashing through the windows. Nobody knows how Father even got it in here in the first place. One of life's little mysteries, I suppose - but good heavens, where are my manners?"

With surprising speed, Keame stepped around his desk and positively bounded across the room towards me, arm extended in greeting. Caught off guard by the sudden burst of energy, I reciprocated, and tried not to wince as he caught my hand in a bone-grinding shake.

"Laura. Laura Barton! Such a pleasure to see you again, madam, especially all that…unpleasantness in St. Louis. May I say, your speech today was truly excellent! While I might not have agreed with…everything you said, I certainly admired the way you spoke with such conviction! And unrehearsed, too!"

"I, um-" I stuttered, unsure of how to respond to that. By the time I'd recovered, he'd already moved on to grasp Clint's hand, leaving me to shake some feeling back into my poor, abused fingers.

"Hawkeye! You know, you and your fellow Avengers have caused me no end of trouble. Do you have any idea how much compassionate leave I'd had to approve so people can spend time with their Blipped loved ones? There's barely anyone here!"

"It's…" Clint hesitated, "It's nothing. Really."

"Of course, of course! How modest!" Keame leaned in, "Between you and me, sir, you've always been my favourite Avenger. No technology, no serums, no magic; just skill. Skill and guts! What an inspiration to us all!"

"I'm no inspiration; I just wanted my family back. That's all."

"I know. I understand exactly how you feel," Keame's smile faltered for a second, "But it doesn't matter why you did it, or who you did it for, the fact of the matter is that you have done us all a great service."

"Layin' it on a bit thick, don't you-"

"And finally, last, but not least…the indomitable medic!" Keame said, passing right along to Thera. Interestingly, he made no attempt to shake the mystic's hand, "I must say, you're quite the enigma. I've followed you up, you know, and there's nothing! Just 'Blip' and here you are, doing God's own work keeping an entire Blip Centre on track!"

"Goddess' own work," Thera corrected him, "I worship a goddess."

"Of course," Keame nodded magnanimously, "Keame Refineries is a local champion of diversity and inclusivity. We welcome all cultures and religions, right, Bill?"

Bill nodded, silently.

"Even so, I've heard some very interesting things about you, Thera," Keame went on, "Not least, a claim you were having a shouting match with none other than Dr. Strange! I must say, it's a brave man who tells a sorcerer to…oh, what's that term…sling his hook! Is that right? Did I say it correctly?"

"I couldn't possibly say."

"Well, be that as it may, please - make yourselves comfortable!" Keame said, indicating the small table and its sofa, "I'll join you as soon as I've talked to Bill. Bill? A word."

As we headed for the table, I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. How could Keame be so completely unperturbed by everything that had happened? Uncharitable though it was, I had been hoping for him to be a confused, quivering wreck, trying desperately to understand how he'd been driven into a corner…but he seemed as energetic and full of life as he had back on the stage? How had he bounced back so quickly?

"Stay the course, hon," Clint whispered, as we settled back onto the sofa, "You don't survive as a leader unless you're good at playin' the game. This is just a front."

"If you say so," I said dubiously.

"I do," he said, and then held a finger to his lips, "Listen to what he's sayin' to Bill."

"Okay, okay…" with a slightly dramatic sigh, I relaxed against Clint as I strained to hear what the two were saying. From the sounds of it they were standing somewhere near the door, conversing in low tones, and I could hear a definite thrum of tension in Keame's voice as he spoke.

"Okay, Bill, I've just heard from Team B," he was saying, "They've locked off and purged all the gas lines, and the tanks are fully sealed. They should be back here in a couple of minutes."

"That's a relief," said Bill, "I was startin' to get worried."

"Don't be; we've done everything we can to make this place safe, and now…" there was a soft jangle of keys, "...I want you to take everyone and get out of here before Blacknest arrives."

"But boss-"

"Don't use the main road," Keame ploughed on, "Take my fob and have everyone drive up past the manor. If you keep going, there's some back roads that'll get you safely to Springfield. Give my regards to Patricia."

"Sorry, boss, but we aren't going anywhere," Bill said, "Me an' the boys're all in agreement; we're not just going to leave you to Pexley!"

"You have to, Bill. This is a problem of my creation, and so I should be the one to resolve it."

"Why? We could all leave, and-"

"-and what would happen then?" Keame said, "He'd destroy the refinery, for sure; destroy everything we all worked so hard to build! I can't let that happen."

"And you think you're gonna stop him? Alone? C'mon, boss; he's going to kill you!"

"If he does, then so be it," said Keame, "But I will not stand by and let you pay the price for my actions. You deserve to be with your family; Allegra, Arietta, and…you've had a third, haven't you? During the Snap?"

"Yeah," said Bill, gruffly, "Samuel."

"Congratulations. I hope I get to meet him one day," Keame said, "But right now, I need someone I can trust to get everyone else off the site before Pexley arrives."

"But boss-"

"Bill; I'm not asking as your 'boss', I'm asking as your friend, if I can still call myself that. Please, make sure everyone gets home safe."

There was a pause, and then Bill swore, "Goddamnit! Fine; I'll round up the boys and let 'em know what's going on. You'd best not do anything stupid, y'hear?"

"I think it might be a little late for that," Keame said, "For now, what will be, will be."

With a final, bad-tempered grunt Bill stumped off through the door, and a moment later the sound of it slamming tore through the room like a gunshot.

"You'll have to forgive him, I'm afraid. He's nothing if not loyal," Keame said, as he joined us at the table, "So… here you are. My greatest detractor, an Avenger, and the fiance of my son's murderer. What an interesting group you are."

"What's interesting is that you're not surprised we're here," I countered, "'Right on time'?"

He smiled, "Yes, well…let's just say I had a feeling you'd be along. I certainly didn't expect Pexley and his men to slow you down very much."

"I'm glad you have so much confidence in us."

"Not at all," he said, and looked almost hopefully at Thera, "Tell me, will your betrothed be joining us?"

"My 'betrothed' is currently reading bedtime stories to the children at the Blip Centre," Thera said, icily, "They're a little shaken up right now."

Keame nodded gravely, "I can imagine. Please accept my wholehearted apologies for all of Pexley's…reprehensible actions, and if there's anything I can do-"

The temperature dropped even further. "Oh, there's a lot you can do. You just didn't do it."

Keame looked like he was mentally steeling himself, "I see you still think uncharitably of me, Thera. You have to understand, I was merely defending myself against your unfounded accusations. I had no idea the crowd would react like that-"

"Even if I did believe that, Keame, do you really think that's why I'm upset?"

"No, I suppose not," Keame said, "But as you know, I do pride myself on listening to people's concerns, so…please, go on."

"My 'concerns'?" Thera's voice was almost a whisper, sibilant and deadly, "Do you have any idea what it's like at my Blip Centre? They think everyone's abandoned them! They're lost, alone, and angry, but every day they gather around a radio or watch your interview on those little phones of theirs, because every day you keep promising you're going to create a better world for them. They've pinned everything on you, out of sheer desperation, and how have you repaid their faith? You've left them there to rot!"

"Desperate? Now just hold on a minute," Keame said, quite calmly, "While I was being…escorted back here, I read the report for your Blip Centre. I read it from cover to cover, in fact, and it's either meeting or exceeding every target set by the government!"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then you should probably start asking questions. Questions like 'who wrote that report?. After all, we've never had an inspection."

"But…" Keame's eyebrows knitted, "You must've done! I even spoke to the person who signed it off!"

"Have you spoken to anyone at the Blip Centre? No. Have you ever visited? No! Because if you'd done either of those things you'd know that report is a pack of lies!""

"I was busy-"

"-too busy to visit a Blip Centres you've taken responsibility for? Seriously?" Thera gave him a contemptuous look, "Clint and Laura made time to visit! Hell, Laura even came back to try and help out! Why? Because they're good people who actually give a damn about those poor bastards, while you just see them as…as things! Things to be used up and discarded when they're no longer useful!"

"Sir, you go too far!" Keame's calm air faltered, "I understand that you're upset, but-"

"No, mate, you don't. How could you?" Thera said, his icy tones cutting effortlessly through Keame's protestations. "In the end, you're just like Strange. You live far away, safe and sound in the lap of luxury, and make sweeping, self-congratulatory proclamations whilst us idiots on the front line grub around in the dirt for scraps! When I hear you being introduced as the 'Voice of the Lost', all I can think about is how utterly you're failing the very people you claim to stand for! You haven't sent us any support, any specialist care, and I can't even tell a crying child that their parents are coming for them because you won't help us reunite them!"

By now, Keame's expression was strained, "As I told you before, I cannot just hand over names, but if you can just be patient-"

"No! I am done being patient!" Thera slammed his hands down on the table, shocking Keame into silence, "But how about I share some names? Flora Barrington, suicide! Manny and Jacinta, acetaminophen poisoning! Poppy Anderson, kidnapped! Peter Bulgakov, tortured to within an inch of his life! Every last one of those happened on your watch, so don't you dare give me your 'wholehearted apologies' until you've given them the justice they deserve!"

Thera sat back, eyes flashing with anger, and his gaze scythed across the table as if daring anyone to comment. I had to admit, I was impressed; if nothing else, this seemed like the first time that Keame was genuinely lost for words. He stared at the mystic, jaw moving, and his fingers drummed lightly, but nervously on the table as he thought.

"I thank you for your candour, sir," he said hollowly, "It's been a while since someone has spoken to me so honestly."

"Then it was probably long overdue."

"Unfortunately, you're also correct. I've made many mistakes, both in my judgement and my actions, and people have…suffered. Greatly."

"It's not too late, Keame," I said, urgently, "We can still fix this."

"I'm afraid not, Laura," he sighed, "I wanted revenge, or at least I thought I wanted revenge, and I completely lost sight of what was important. I abandoned my principles, gave that thug Pexley the kind of power he previously could only dream of, and now he's coming here to tear this place apart brick by brick unless he gets what he wants. It's over."

"But you just told Bill-"

"-what he needed to hear. They aren't soldiers, Laura, they're refinery workers. Blacknest would cut through them like a hot knife through butter. Best they're as far away from here as possible."

"Seems like you should be takin' your own advice," Clint said, "If you come with us, we can be long gone before Pexley-"

"No!" Keame brought his fist down on the table, hard, "This refinery has survived earthquakes, tornadoes, fires, and floods! As long as I still draw breath, I will not allow it to be destroyed by Pexley and his thugs!"

"Oh great. That should delay its destruction by…" Thera counted on his fingers, "...exactly zilch! Seriously, Keame; hasn't the Blip taught you anything? You can rebuild, but you can't rebuild if you're dead!"

"Look out there, Thera," Keame gestured at the windows, and the expansive view of the refinery beyond, "Tell me, what do you see?"

Thera twisted to look, and stared in silence for several moments, "An insurance claim waiting to happen?"

"Clint?"

"I have to admit, I'm kinda with Thera," he said, "It's very impressive, but it ain't worth dying over."

"Really? I'm disappointed," Keame said, and turned to me, "How about you, Laura? Surely you recognise its true worth."

His stare bored into me, and in that moment I got the strangest feeling that this was some kind of test. I looked out at the refinery, at the twisting pipework and now silent stacks, and wondered exactly what he wanted me to say. What was it about this place that he considered it worth dying for? For that matter, what was it about this place that Bill considered it worth dying for? After all, it wasn't like it was his family's refinery, and yet Keame thought he had to lie to him to make sure he and the rest of the workers didn't throw their lives away futilely attempting to prevent a Blacknest rampage. Why was it so important to them?

I looked at Keame, who looked back encouragingly, and then looked over his shoulder at his desk. His small, ugly, flat-pack desk, crammed into a corner behind Wilfred's mahogany monstrosity. It still seemed like a strange thing to do, but at the same time…what was it he'd said? 'We're all on the same team'?

Then it hit me, "It's the community, isn't it? You're trying to protect the community."

He seemed to relax, just slightly, and a smile flickered across his face, "Exactly! This refinery supports almost two thousand local families with highly-paid, highly-skilled work. Some of those families have worked here over multiple generations; this refinery is as much a part of them as it's a part of me. If it's destroyed, where would they go? What would happen to the towns who depend on them? Pexley's thuggery could destroy the entire region, and he wouldn't even realise it."

"Thuggery paid for by the Keame family fortune, of course."

"I know," Keame said quietly, "Believe me, I'm fully aware of my part in all of this. I told myself that I wanted to get justice for Simon's murder, but what I really wanted was revenge. I was…obsessed with it. I let Pexley in, gave him power, and now…"

He broke off and stared out over his refinery, a forlorn expression on his face. In that moment, I remembered something Vi had told me, in what now felt now like a different life:

"Revenge has this habit of getting away from you. It just builds and builds, each action justified by their response. You give up your principles, make deals with people who you shouldn't even be giving the time of day to, and then one day you're looking down at a burning city and wondering how the hell it got to this point, and how much of it is your fault."

Thanos had taken us from Clint, and created Ronin. Ronin had taken Simon from Keame, and created Pexley. If we let Pexley drain the lifeblood from this region, who, or what, would he create? With a jolt, I realised that Clint and I weren't just bystanders in this story; we were responsible for what was happening now. If we didn't step in to break the cycle, where would it end?

"I know I have no right to ask this of you. Of any of you," Keame said, in a voice that was almost a whisper, "But…please, I need your help. Please help me stop Pexley, before my mistakes destroy everything we've built here?"

"You want us to fight Blacknest?" Thera said incredulously, "Seriously?"

"Help me drive them off. Maybe there doesn't need to be any bloodshed."

"Well, why not just buy them off? I thought Pexley was coming for your fortune!"

"There…is no fortune," Keame said, "My son frittered it away during the Blip, and I…also frittered it away, creating and arming Blacknest. What's left could barely pay off a squad, never mind an entire mercenary army. Pexley knows that."

"Well…if he knows that, why's he coming here? What else could he possibly want?"

"The same thing you want, of course," Keame said, "He wants the List."