Kenta stomped through the door, flicking on the light as he closed it with a bang, then turned right and headed through his living room to the small kitchen his apartment had. He ripped open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Asahi beer, flicking the cap off with his thumb and putting it to his lips as he closed the appliance again. Three large swallows later, he felt slightly less furious about the sheer incompetence of the flunkies that surrounded him.

In the middle of taking another draw on the bottle, he suddenly frowned. Replaying the last few seconds in his mind, he froze, then slowly turned his head to look into the living room. His eyes fixated on his favorite chair.

Which had an occupant, who was watching him calmly, her hands folded in her lap and her head tilted a little to the side, her long curly black hair around her shoulders.

Just for an instant he felt relief that this intruder wasn't a different woman, one that featured in his nightmares even now, before rage welled up. He turned to face her and opened his mouth.

Before he could get out the words, she smiled slightly. "I think not, Nomura Kenta," she said in perfect Japanese, although she looked Caucasian, probably Southern European if he was any judge. Raising a hand she flicked a finger and his mouth slammed shut without his intent. More than a little taken aback, and now very wary, Kenta stared at her. "I am here to talk, not listen. That is your job." She indicated his sofa with the same hand. Not entirely sure why he was going along with it, he slowly moved into the living room and took a seat. "Good. Now, I will tell you what is going to happen next, after which you may ask questions. Calmly."

There was something about her face that abruptly made him nervous in a way he really didn't enjoy at all. In a completely different way from the woman in a hat, the one he'd never forget, but also in a way that was at least as worrying.

"You are planning on moving to Brockton Bay," she stated, in a manner that wasn't a question. He twitched, as that wasn't something he'd mentioned to anyone else, but it was certainly true. His plans for the combined Asiatic gang he was steadily assembling by eliminating all the other, lesser, gang leaders led inexorably to that coastal city, a hotbed of criminal and Parahuman activity that was almost a legend. It was where the Slaughterhouse Nine had vanished without trace, and likewise the Teeth. Both groups, the worst of the worst, had paid a visit, caused trouble, and… no one knew their fate.

Such a thing caused most people in his position to consider Brockton Bay a place to avoid. Most people. But there were those who appeared to have managed to thrive there. The Empire Eighty Eight was still active in the city, even though their patriarch Allfather had disappeared mere months ago. The word was that his son had made his move and taken over the gang, eliminating the older man in the process, which seemed perfectly plausible for those degenerate Nazis. They did tend towards infighting more often than not, Kenta knew from past experience.

Marquis had also been very successful there for years until the Brockton Bay Brigade had taken him down a year or so ago. Recently renaming themselves New Wave, the independent group had certainly made an impression, but in a sense he was almost looking forward to finding out if that impression was valid.

Kenta was sure that he could fill the gaps the lack of the Marche had left in the structure of the city with his own organization, Nazis or no Nazis. From what he'd heard the E88 was currently in some level of turmoil after whatever had happened, which meant it was the ideal time to make his move. So he'd been plotting for a couple of weeks now, working out the best time and method to transfer his group to that city and establish the ABB as a force to reckon with. The Protectorate and PRT ENE, the so called 'forces of good,' were widely known to be understaffed there and he was virtually certain would pose little real threat. By the time they managed to call up reinforcements it would be too late, he'd be far too entrenched to dislodge without vast effort. And the PRT seldom put in vast effort on almost anything. Barely adequate effort was far closer to the truth in most places, never mind somewhere as run down as Brockton Bay.

But somehow this woman, someone he'd never seen before and who was clearly a cape, had found out and dared to beard him in his own den? It was beyond foolish on her part, although…

There was that look in her eyes.

He hesitated, feeling his power roiling under the surface as it always was, but somehow… reluctant.

"I am paying you a courtesy visit to tell you that while, if you wish, you can do what you're planning, it would be wise not to," the woman went on after a few seconds, almost as if she'd been waiting for his internal thought processes to complete. "At least insofar as causing trouble goes. If you want to play tourist, by all means, indulge yourself as much as you desire." She leaned a little forward in his chair. "But we already have more than enough criminal gangs infesting the city. We do not require more. Especially ones that come with such a tendency towards… collateral damage."

He opened his mouth to retort, spotted something in her face, and found himself closing it again with the comment unsaid. For some reason he felt a chill go down his back, not something he'd experienced since Kyushu.

She smiled faintly as if she knew exactly why he'd aborted his reply.

"Brockton Bay is my home, you see, and I prefer it… less turbulent… than it has at times in the past been. Family friendly, one might say, although I realize even as I say that how silly it sounds, considering our history." She chuckled in a low voice as he listened. "I suspect my definition of family friendly is somewhat unusual, all things considered. Still, there is a level of disturbance beyond which it becomes annoying to have to deal with, and I'd much prefer that level not be reached. I'm sure you understand."

He didn't, at all, but he couldn't for some reason bring himself to say that. The longer he listened to this woman the more disturbing she became. And was it his imagination, or were the windows past her too… dark? He was also somewhat concerned that something very unusual seemed to be barely visible under the chair she was sitting on, something he abruptly found himself very much not wanting to get a clear look at. Sweat was running down his back as he stared at her.

"So all in all, it would be best for everyone if you avoided bringing unwanted chaos to Brockton Bay, I think. We have more than enough normal chaos to be going on with and the addition of another Parahuman gang would be excessive. Just a friendly warning. You won't get another one, I fear, should you decide to ignore my advice." She smiled, her teeth glinting in the dimness of the room in a frankly eerie manner, although for the life of himself he couldn't put his finger on exactly why he thought that.

"You would probably simply meet either my mother, or my husband," she added somewhat reflectively. "Assuming I was otherwise engaged, of course. I'm not entirely certain which one you would find less pleasant, but I am certain you would fail to consider the experience enjoyable." She made a small motion with one hand in the air. He twitched at the effect this had on the darkness, his eyes widening for a moment. "Mind you, they might. Anyway, that's for the future, one way or another." Looking at her wrist, on which a slender watch glittered, she raised an eyebrow. "Ah. I'm afraid I'm nearly out of time. My daughters will be wanting a bedtime story soon. Do you have any questions before I leave?"

Kenta, the great Lung, licked his lips, then said very carefully, "May I know who I am speaking to?" He felt, very strongly, that being polite was critically important at this juncture.

"To whom I am speaking," she corrected him with a small smile, adding "Annette," while standing and bowing slightly. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He nodded. Sweat was pooling around his ass on the sofa, an unpleasant feeling. "I have heard your advice and will take it into consideration, Annette."

The woman smiled gently. "That's all I ask. Goodbye, Kenta. One hopes that should we meet again it is not due to unfortunate circumstances." She bowed again, then abruptly wasn't there any more. He blinked several times, before standing slowly, then walking over to inspect the chair. The cushion bore the slowly fading imprint of someone sitting in it, so clearly that hadn't been an illusion of some sort.

A faint sound made him twitch, then quickly look down. A darker zone under the chair looked back at him, causing him to step back with a pale face.

Something winked, then there was only normal darkness.

Kenta swallowed, looked at the half finished beer he was still holding, disposed of the remainder very quickly, and left the living room without a glance back. Shortly he was making new plans.

His nightmares from that point onwards featured two women, and he couldn't work out which one was worse. And the worst of it was that he had absolutely no idea why 'Annette' had left such an impression on him.


"You have to be kidding me," the man groaned, holding his hands over his face. "Why there? Why me?"

"We need someone level headed and sensible, with a good track record, to run the local Protectorate branch after Killjoy retired last month," his direct superior said calmly, although sympathetically. "Poor man was right on the edge, I think. He looked like he was about to fall over the last time I saw him. A few months of staying out of the business will probably do him good. But I suspect he'll be back sooner or later."

"Not if he's sane, he won't," Myrrdin mumbled. "At least not there." He scrubbed at his face, his costume's cowl around his neck, then looked at Legend who was regarding him closely. "Can't you find someone else? Anyone else? I really, really don't want to go to Brockton Bay."

The other man spread his hands in a gesture of mild annoyance. "Unfortunately, no, I can't. Not at the moment. We've got far too few people with your experience and power who aren't already absolutely slammed with work. Chicago is one of the few places that's currently calm enough and stable enough to allow us to redeploy someone of your level. And Brockton Bay is… well, it's a very weird place even in our world."

"You think I don't know that?" Myrrdin growled. "Trust me, it's weirder than you know. Or can imagine. And it's about the single most hazardous place on the entire continent if you're not careful and lucky."

"Well, in that case once again I can't think of someone better to take over the Protectorate ENE than you, Mike," Legend grinned.

"What about Armsmaster?" Mike, as he was known when he wasn't being a superhero, tried hopefully. "Yeah, he's young, I know, but he's got promise, right? Surely this would be a good time to give him his own command…"

The other man slowly shook his head, seeming mildly sad. "Not yet. Yes, he's a phenomenal Tinker and in time he's going to be one of our best assets, I'm sure, but right now he's… not quite what we need. Not enough practical experience, for a start."

"Best way to get experience is to dive right in," Mike replied immediately. "He'd pick it up in no time."

His superior gave him a look, making him sigh faintly. "Unfortunately on top of the lack of practical experience he's also… how do I put it without being rude?"

"A robot?"

Legend snickered, then controlled himself with a look of momentary self recrimination. "That's not entirely fair, Mike," he said sternly, although his lips were twitching. "His personality is… admittedly a little stiff… I have to admit, but he means well. He's just not good with people. That's something else he'll learn in due course."

"He's also a bit over-impressed with his own brilliance sometimes," Mike pointed out, a small smile coming and going and getting a sigh of amusement from the other man.

"That is indeed a thing, yes. Unfortunately not an uncommon thing, though. We've all been through that phase at one time or another."

"I remember," Mike chuckled, giving his friend a look and a raised eyebrow, which wiggled up and down a couple of times meaningfully causing Legend to flush a little. "You were…"

"We are not here to discuss my shortcomings in the past," Legend hastily said. Mike smirked. "Nor yours, which I need not remind you were rather memorable too."

The smirk narrowed, causing Legend to grin in turn for a second. "No, Colin isn't quite ready for leadership of that nature. A year, maybe two, under the tutelage of someone qualified and experienced…" He stared at Mike, who sighed heavily.

"And you're determined to sacrifice me to that blasted place, I see," he grumbled.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad," Legend said cheerfully. "Stories tend to get overblown all the time. Especially in old port cities. Some of the things I've heard are so ridiculous no one could possibly believe them."

Myrrdin fixed him with a dark look. "We are talking about the city with the highest per capita Parahuman presence in North America. The city which ate both the Nine and the Teeth, so thoroughly that no one has ever seen a trace of anyone involved in the last two years. Gone, just like that." He snapped his fingers with a sound like a gunshot making Legend, whose smile had faded somewhat, twitch. "Not to mention Allfather, who seems to have evaporated if what I'm hearing is right. And at least half a dozen other evil bastards in the last decade." Leaning forward he glowered. "That is Brockton Bay. I would personally believe almost anything you could tell me about that damn place. And a lot of the things that I know about it are worse."

Legend was silent for a few seconds, then deliberately smiled again. "Sounds like a city that needs a strong Protectorate leader to me," he said lightly.

Pinching the bridge of his nose Mike leaned back in his chair and sighed yet again. "You're not going to give up on this are you?"

"Probably not." His companion shook his head, the smile fading. "Look, Mike, I know you have problems with the whole thing. I do to, in some ways. It's short notice, for a start. But you've built a really strong team here, which is testament to both your leadership and the competence of everyone involved. Revel is more than capable of taking over at least until we can find someone else, if we need to for that matter. We can move a few people around without too much trouble. But Brockton is a completely different situation than Chicago is. We need someone like you there to keep a lid on it, and we have far too few people of your ability that can be spared from their own work."

"I really don't want to go," Mike commented eventually.

"I know. I don't fully understand why, but I do appreciate that," Legend replied quietly. "I'd consider it a personal favor if you'd agree. And I genuinely think you're one of the only people who could do the job."

"You could send Alexandria," Mike said almost humorously. Legend shivered.

"Oh, God no." The other man shook his head quickly. "That would be a terrible idea. She would… not improve the situation. No, it's probably best that she stays well away from that city. It and her would not see eye to eye in any way at all, and I'm really not certain who would come out on top in the end. Probably best to avoid finding out all things considered."

Mike studied him, then nodded. It was a valid point knowing the woman as he did, and knowing what he knew about the city which she definitely didn't.

"Anyway she's far too busy in LA and we really don't have anyone who could take over for her there." Legend gestured at the map on the wall, showing Brockton Bay in all its dubious glory. Mike followed his hand to look at the image, before finally sagging.

"Fuck it. Fine, I hate it but fine. I'll do it."

"Fantastic." Legend smiled widely. "Thank you."

Mike pointed at him. "But only because you asked. And you owe me one hell of a favor."

"Of course."

"And I want a free hand in adding to the roster there. From this it's way down on what it should be for some reason." He picked up the folder that was sitting at his elbow and waved it at the other man.

"Agreed. I'd suggest Armsmaster as one of them, as I said. With your leadership he'll blossom into a very competent member of the Protectorate in no time, just like everyone here did."

"Stop flattering me," Myrrdin sighed. "But I'll take him. He's got promise. I want Miss Militia too. She's one of the only people who can deal with him, and she's got a highly useful ability. Not to mention she's one of the sanest capes I've ever met, especially considering her background."

Legend thought it over, then nodded. "All right. It helps she's one of Colin's friends, too."

"Possibly she knows how to program him," Mike muttered, making Legend suppress a smile again. "I'm going to have to think about who else I need. How long do I have?"

"Ideally we'd like to get you installed there by the end of the month, so a little less than three weeks," Legend replied.

Feeling trapped but knowing there was nothing to do about it but go along with things, Mike shrugged. "Fine. I'll get you a list of candidates by the end of tomorrow, and we can discuss it. It's Director Osmond at the PRT ENE, right?"

"Yes. He's been there for…" Legend thought for a moment. "Four years so far. If he can stick it out for another three he'll be rotated out and someone else will get the spot, so hopefully by then you can have the place humming along nicely." His expression was amused when Mike glowered at him.

"If I'm very lucky indeed I can stop it exploding. I won't promise more than that." Standing, he dropped the folder on his chair. "I need a drink."

"I won't keep you any longer then," his superior replied. As Mike put his hand on the doorknob, Legend added, "Thank you, Mike."

Myrrdin paused and looked back over his shoulder. "A really big favor," he said with a growl, before yanking the door open and leaving the room.

Behind him Legend shook his head, smiling slightly, as he sorted out the paperwork and made some notes.

Half an hour later Mike was sitting at his favorite bar sipping his third glass of spirits, trying to work out where his life had gone wrong and dreading how it was likely to go in the next few months.

"Mal Linwood," he whispered almost under his breath, shuddered, and tipped the remaining liquor down his throat. "Gods. I'm so fucked."

He glanced out the window as he refilled the glass and spotted a tall dark-haired young woman walking past. As he did, she looked sideways at him, smiled, and nodded, before vanishing around the corner.

For some reason he felt a little better, even though the interaction quickly faded from his mind and he got on with the serious business of getting outside too much alcohol.

It was that sort of a day.


Amy concentrated, her eyes fixed on the tiny plant in the pot between her hands. Next to her Taylor was watching intently, and across from the two girls Emma and Vicky were doing the same. On her other side her mother was gently encouraging her.

"That's it, dear. Be gentle, urge it on, don't force it. You're nearly there…"

The small girl nodded absently, most of her attention on the two little leaves emerging from the brown earth on a slender stalk. She was frowning a little, following the advice she'd been given, and determined that this time she'd do it.

A few more seconds passed then the seedling quivered almost unnoticeably. Vicky sucked in a breath, but didn't say anything. Taylor nudged her sister encouragingly.

"Nearly there…" her mother said virtually silently.

The plant shook again. Then, almost without fuss, it began to grow. The leaves writhed a bit as they expanded, the stalk lengthening, and more leaf buds appearing above the first set. Amy's eyes widened and she smiled, but held her breath and kept doing what she was doing. As everyone watched, the little bean plant grew taller and taller, like a speeded up time lapse movie, reaching a solid foot within thirty seconds.

"Excellent work, Amy," her mother congratulated her warmly when she relaxed. "Excellent work. You definitely have a gift for this sort of thing."

"It was really hard to get it started, Mom," Amy said as she grinned at her bean plant.

"That's not surprising at this stage, dear. But you're picking it up very fast. It will get much easier with practice. Most things do, after all." Her mother stroked her hair. "Trust me, you did very well indeed."

"Better than I did," Vicky commented excitedly, looking at the bizarrely shaped plant in the pot near her. Everyone followed her eyes, Taylor nodding with an impressed look and Emma giggling.

"I don't know where the teeth came from," Taylor put in. "But it's really cool in a weird way."

"It bit me," Emma pointed out, showing her finger.

"Only a little. You scared it."

"It's a bean plant, Tay, it's not supposed to bite people," the redhead complained in a good-natured manner, while Amy and Vicky laughed.

"Hey, maybe bitey beans will be useful one day," Vicky said with a giggle. She poked the plant, whipping her finger out of range quickly.

"Not sure how," Emma said doubtfully, staring at the thing.

"We should probably keep that here, I think, Vicky," Amy's mother said calmly. "I think your mother might have a minor problem with it."

"She'd freak out," Amy suggested with a grin. Vicky nodded happily.

"So much," she replied agreeably.

"All right, then, I think it's Emma's turn," the older woman said. Everyone looked at the redheaded girl, who smiled broadly and pulled her own seedling closer.

"This is so cool," she squeaked, before attempting the same feat the other two had managed. Amy leaned on her sister and watched, silently urging her friend along and as happy as anyone could be.

All in all she felt she was right where she was supposed to be.

"Oh, cool, how did you make it turn blue?" Taylor sounded impressed. Emma shrugged but kept working.

Amy grinned to herself.