A few Years Ago
Director James Hearthrow looked around his office, wondering how it had even come to this. Sure, it hadn't seemed like much back in college, but he almost regretted joining one of the most important secret organizations in the world. Almost, but not quite. He could barely imagine how confused he would've been if he hadn't been initiated in the secrets of his organization. Which brought him to the current situation, debriefing a trooper that had gotten into contact with the paranormal, and convincing her it had been a mere contact with a parahuman, all from the comfort of his Chicago Office.
"Officer Murphy? Come in please," Hearthrow said, putting on a smile for the distraught trooper.
"Director, sir," the woman said, giving him a quick salute with her head. "Is there a problem?"
"Nothing big, I prefer being personally informed about any new capes in the city. Have a seat," Hearthrow said, motioning at the comfortable chair in front of his desk.
According to unofficial PRT protocol, it was normal for the comfortability levels of a chair to be, at most, seventy percent of those of the director's chair. Something about playing power games with people you were talking to. Perhaps, he thought, some people just needed to have something in their life telling them they were powerful, especially when they spend their days working with people that could blow your head of with an idle thought. Hearthrow disagreed with the notion. First of all, he thought it rather childish and disrespectful not to allow his visitors some creature comforts. After all, he didn't even have to move for any of his meetings. Secondly, well, perhaps the overly comfy chairs would lure people into a false sense of security.
In this case, he just hoped it would calm the sergeant's nerves. She'd obviously seen something rather disconcerting, and it wouldn't do to annoy her further.
"What happened?" he asked as the young officer sat down. He'd quickly reviewed her file beforehand. She'd started in the police force, and gotten in trouble after being too capable for her own good. One of his own people had then managed to recruit her away from the den of corruption that was the Chicago PD. Unlike most of his veteran troopers, Officer Murphy and the others of her generation generally had no military experience, courtesy of cutbacks soon after Scion had started interfering in armed conflicts. However, there were a few notes about the officer causing general mayhem during CQC training, despite her diminutive size.
"I got a message from an old friend on the force sir, something about a kidnapping. He thought something was off about it, but his superiors disagreed. We were dropping by to see if we could help him out under the table when it happened," Murphy explained.
"The kidnapping, you're talking about the Astor case? They've been hounding me for PRT attention, I thought they were overreacting," he replied, letting her in on his side of the events.
"They were, sir, at least in part," the sergeant said. "Young miss Astor wasn't kidnapped, she simply ran away. We didn't know that though, so when we came across an unknown cape with the girl in tow, some of us reacted rather enthusiastically."
"Meaning you shot him?" Hearthrow asked, one eyebrow raised. He was proud of that, the ability to move his eyebrows completely independently. It had taken him some time, but it was worth it. It was one of the many skills that separated the good superior, from the great superior.
"Meaning Sergeant Johnson tried to shoot him sir, the cape did something with his staff, and Johnson disappeared into thin air," Karrin continued.
"Going by the fact that the flag out front is still raised, I presume that he did not, in fact, become thin air?" he asked. A cape with a staff, with the ability to make people disappear. Some sort of veil perhaps? He'd been quite sure there weren't any wizards in Chicago; maybe that had changed recently.
"No sir. The cape in question, he didn't give us a name, later released Johnson from his ability, some sort of pocket dimension he claimed.
"Some sort of blaster ability then? Shove people out of reality for a bit? Did you see anything about the mechanisms of his ability?"
"I'm not sure, but he waved around with his staff, creating some sort of glowing symbol in the air."
"When you say staff, you mean, like, wizard-style?" Hearthrow asked. "And if so, are we talking Gandalf or Dumbledore?"
"Gandalf, sir. I was about to get to that part of the story," Karrin Murphy said, continuing when Hearthrow motioned for her to. "We were talking to the new cape when the little runaway decided to, well, make a run for it."
"The cape, what was he like?"
"Let's see, early twenties I think, not ugly, but not necessarily attractive either. Thing is, he wasn't wearing a mask, just a big trenchcoat and a large wooden staff. Not even a hat or anything. I'm pretty sure the staff was made out of oak wood, but I'm not sure whether that's relevant or not."
"And his personality? What kind of person are we talking about" Hearthrow asked.
"I'd say he was a bit weird, which the wizard-staff made clear, but I've met worse. That said, he wasn't a very serious person, joked around a lot. Weird thing was, he seemed to become less serious when things got tense. He seemed to be a nice person, and he was bringing the kid back home when we came across them."
"An independent hero then?" Hearthrow asked.
"Of a sort? He said he was working with a private eye, something about manipulating the fundamental forces of the universe not paying the rent. Anyway, when we chased down the girl, we met this, well, the only way I could describe it as a Troll."
"Someone being annoying on the internet?" Hearthrow asked, hoping that his nonsensical bit of levity was actually correct. The last thing he needed was a Troll infestation in the city.
"Sadly not, it was some sort of massive Brute, maybe a Case 53 or something. He was more than ten feet tall, hideously ugly, and he wanted to eat the Astor girl?" the officer said, questioning the last part of her sentence. She probably wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't been there to see it.
"Eat her?" Hearthrow asked, faking incredulity. Eating children, while horrible, was SOP for Trolls. One of the reasons you needed to stomp them out whenever possible.
"Yes sir, he had her legs dangling above his mouth when we caught up with her. It was rather disconcerting."
"I suppose you managed to stop that from happening?" he asked.
"We did sir, or rather, the wizard cape did. He banished the girl in the same way he banished officer Johnson. After that, we opened fire on the Troll."
"Define opened fire," he replied.
"Riddled him with bullets, sir."
"Not exactly what the protocols advice," he replied.
"No sir, but given its apparent activities, and a lack of information about our newfound ally's abilities, we thought it prudent to act with maximum force, especially since there was no-one near the line of fire."
"Very well, although you shouldn't make a habit out of it. So, what happened next?"
"The Troll, it, well, do you know about those spiders? The ones that, when they're pregnant and you squish them, a thousand baby spiders come out?" Murphy asked, the disgust obviously visible on her face. Hearthrow was quite happy with his office job, one where he would probably never meet one of those spiders, let alone a troll hatching the same way. "You're telling me we've got a couple hundred miniature child-eaters on the loose?" he asked.
"No sir, the other cape, he mumbled something, followed by fire flowing out of a smaller staff in his left hand, neatly burning all the tiny, well, hatchlings."
"Fire too? Seems rather versatile, do you know what he said?"
"He said he was casting a spell, wouldn't explain what he meant by that. Like I told you sir, he was kind of strange."
"Capes believing their powers are magic are hardly anything new. Did anyone ask him if he was interested in the Protectorate?" he asked. Wondering whether or not it was an actual practitioner they were talking about, or just a parahuman with a versatile power and some delusions. Mumbling spells and the staff foci pointed in the direction of actual wizard, but temporary extradimensional banishment? That didn't fit with what he knew, especially if it wasn't just some sort of veil.
"He said he would think about it sir, but I'm not sure he was entirely serious. Then again, I don't think he's the type of person to ever be entirely serious," Murphy replied.
"Well, with any luck, he'll contact us himself. If not, continued friendly contact seems to be the way to go. Officer Murphy, you can go now."
"Yes sir," Murphy replied.
***
A few years later.
"Mister Dresden, was it?" Hearthrow asked.
"Just Harry is fine," the young man replied.
Hearthrow looked at him. Brown hair, brown eyes, and rather tall. Not cape level tall, but someone who towered above others on the street nonetheless. He had a goofy smile on his face, and seemed to be in a good mood. The only thing that gave him away was that he kept looking away from Hearthrow's eyes whenever their sight met.
Which meant that he was either a wizard, or really shy. Going by his behavior, wizard.
"So, Harry, why are you here?" Hearthrow asked.
"Because I'm a wizard," Harry replied with a goofy smile on his face.
"What, exactly, do you mean by that?" he asked.
"That I have magical abilities. You know, fireballs, telekineses, tracking people by their hair, banishing them to different dimensions, conjuring the elements, that sort of thing," Harry explained.
What, exactly, was this man going for? Hearthrow asked himself. Was this Harry an actual practitioner, outright telling people he was a practitioner and offering his help? Was he a deluded parahuman? Was he both?
"And you want to join up? Become a member of the Protectorate?" he asked.
"Well, I was going to teach at Hogwarts, but as it turns out they just hired a werewolf instead!" Harry replied.
"And you are aware that magic is not, in fact, real?" Hearthrow asked him.
"I'm quite aware that most people believe so, but if it looks like a wizard, casts spells like a wizard, and has the greatest cat ever like a wizard, then its a wizard isn't it?" Harry replied.
"Or, as most would say, a parahuman," Hearthrow replied.
"Some people would say that, seems to me like its magic though, wouldn't you say?" Harry said. "I mean, I guess it doesn't really matter what you call it, I just think its a bit silly to deny the existence of magic."
Hearthrow thought about the statement for a bit, and its implications. Ominously, he saw the screen of his computer start flickering from the corner of his eye. That settled it, there was an actual wizard right in front of him, asking to join the Protectorate. That, or he was a parahuman with wizard-like abilities that just so happened to also include some sort of technology-destroying effect. So, in other words, he was a wizard. Given that, as well as his other hints, was it possible that the man was both a wizard and a parahuman? He'd never heard about it, and the Venatori Umbrum had quite a few sources spread around the world. Then again, though unlikely, it was bound to happen someday. Right now, the figure for urban environments was one in eight thousand for parahumans, and slowly rising. Thus, one in every eight thousand young wizards was likely to have powers. At least, discounting some sort dependence between the two.
That left another question, was Harry a member of the White Council? Probably not, if the Council had a parahuman, wouldn't they have notified their allies? Then again, if the Council had a parahuman, wouldn't they try to keep that a secret? Then again, if the Council kept their parahuman a secret, would they make him join the Protectorate?
The out-of-context nature of the parahuman phenomenon had meant that most supernatural actors were slow to pick up on it, with the exception of Mab, who had quickly updated her Accords when the Endbringers introduced themselves as a permanent fixture.
"All things considered, your views on the nature of your abilities aren't all that relevant to the case at hand," Hearthrow said, changing the topic. "What matters is the fact that you have them, and that you want to use them to help people. I do, however, have an important question. Being a part of the Protectorate means more than just being a hero, it means following orders, both those of your team leader, as well of those coming from the civilian oversight i.e. me. Will you be able to do that, even if you don't necessarily agree with them?"
The question, Hearthrow thought, was relevant in more ways than one. Sure, it was important that people could follow orders, especially in the heat of battle, but what mattered was how someone responded, because it told you a lot about them. Some people responded by saying yes immediately, either because they meant it, or because they were afraid that saying anything else would mean they couldn't join. Others, the ones that favored their own independence, would start with a no, after which Hearthrow would start negotiating in earnest. After all, if they really didn't want to, they wouldn't have applied to join the Protectorate. In many cases, it simply came down to people being afraid that they would be forced to go against their morals. Violent as their powers might be, most of the parahumans in Chicago didn't actually want to kill anyone, especially those with heroic intentions.
The third option was that people would give an answer somewhere in between, a 'yes, but' so to speak. That was where things got interesting most of the time, and where he could really get an insight into people's minds. Shuffle, for example, had said that he was technically willing, but unsure of his ability to do so. The man was intelligent, dependable and loyal, but only had limited control over his ability, something he kept informing any superiors about. Given what he had learned about the man's trigger event, he thought it had to do with Shuffle's tendency to take responsibility for everything happening around him. He'd gotten the power to enact change to a massive degree, but lacked control, exacerbating his issues.
"Yes, unless you want me execute Order 66," Harry replied, a rather annoying grin on his face.
A jokester then, and someone with an independent sense of morality. Not the type to take authority seriously. Given his track record so far, he would do what was asked of him, until he wouldn't. It wasn't a large problem, but it was something that would be put in the man's file. Fighting criminals? Yes. Fighting Simmurgh victims? Probably not.
"Well, unless there's space wizards in the city, I don't think that will be much of a problem. Now, we've got some paperwork to go through, but welcome to the Protectorate!" Hearthrow said, extending a hand to the young man in front of him.
***
Several months before Leviathan
Chicago, Hearthrow thought, was a shithole. But, it was his shithole.
Unlike most cities, Chicago's underworld wasn't ruled by groups of capes running around and throwing fireballs at each other. Sure, there were gangs and villain teams, but the real problem wasn't with them. The real problem was the amount of corruption in the city. Cops looking the other way, projects running out of funding at inopportune moments, people that would swear they hadn't seen anything. Director Hearthrow was quite sure that his was perhaps the least corrupt governmental body in the city, even the parks department had shady deals going on.
What that meant, was that a man calling himself Gentleman Marcone had an almost free reign of the city, with interdepartmental tension stopping him from acting against the one criminal organisation without obvious parahuman support.
Sure, there were other groups active. Topsy was leading a group of smaller organizations, claiming to be the new king of the Folk. Bianca, leader of the local red court presence, was rapidly spreading her influence through the brothel industry of the city, and the Latin gangs had an ongoing civil war over who would lead them. His contacts within the Venatori Umbrum told him that the White Court was in possession of a rather large estate just outside the city, and a vampire of the Black Court had tried taking residence a while ago, before a Knight of the Cross had driven her off. But those were problems he could deal with. Marcone however, was practically immune to anything he could throw at the man.
Until this whole Three-Eye affair at least. Marketed as an enhanced tinkertech drug, it was a magical substance that opened the Sight of anyone taking it, leading to extraordinary hallucinations that stayed with whoever was taking them. In addition to that, the creator was using thaumaturgy to murder his way through Marcone's people.
Which meant he could start investigating these obviously parahuman murders in depth. If that meant he accidentally uncovered some rather problematic details regarding Marcone's operations, then nobody could blame him for going outside of his mandate.
Of course, the man sitting in front of him had a completely different opinion about the whole deal.
"Of course mister Marcone, but please understand that that is simply not how parahumans tend to operate. Why would anyone attempt to take down your business empire like that? Any Rogue would just be asking for attention from Watchdog, and villains are generally more varied, given that they tend to operate in teams. No, the most obvious possibility here is that someone is trying to take over your organization from within, eliminating your inner circle until they are at the top," Hearthrow lied. He was about ninety percent sure that the man responsible was a low-level sorcerer going by the unimaginative moniker Shadowman, and he had done everything he could to send the investigation into a different direction. It was a risk, but a calculated one. Sells would quickly burn out, or be caught by one of the White Council's Wardens. In the meantime, he could gather as much information as possible about Marcone's real organization.
"You insult the honor of my men. This is an external threat to my life and my people and you know it. I don't care what you are insinuating about me. Ask the Chief of Police, ask the Mayor, ask anyone in the city but your merry band of lunatics and they will tell you that I am an upstanding citizen that has nothing to do with any of this," Marcone said, oddly calm for someone talking about a threat to his life.
"I know, and I would never deign to insult your honor. I am simply doubting the integrity and moral values of your underlings," Hearthrow said, smiling at Marcone. Sure, Marcone was a hardass, but compared to director Costa-Brown, talking to him was almost relaxing.
His phone flashed, and Hearthrow saw a sign flash on the screen of his computer.
"I'm sorry sir, but I seem to have an active situation. If you wanted to talk some more, I'm afraid it will have to wait for another day," he said, leaving Marcone behind him
Go ahead, he thought. Spy on my papers, it's not like I have tinkertech bugs monitoring every little thing you do in there.
"What's happening?" he asked, as he met Shuffle standing in the hallway.
"He's done it sir, the madman's actually done it!" Shuffle said, overly enthousiastic.
"Explain?" Hearthrow asked.
"The murderer, the guy producing the three-eye, Myrddin tracked him down right to his doorstep. Revel told me to inform you that she's going in, it seems like they're busy with some sort of ritual."
Fuck. Sure, they'd caught their target. But they'd done so before Marcone's heart had been ripped out of his chest. Turns out there were negatives to having a Wizard in his employ as well. And if it came out that he'd been sending the investigation in the wrong direction… Well, there were ways around all of that. Perhaps, he could make the case look far more difficult than it had been, heaping praise on one of his newer team members? Myrddin was already proving to be ever more popular, a big mission like this could change him into a merchandising monster, giving the PRT more funds for their operations in the city.
Yes, that would so, he would turn a negative in a positive. There were always other opportunities to investigate Marcone.
***
A few weeks before Leviathan
"Sir, I fixed your phone," Everett said, standing in front of his desk. The brown-haired boy seemed annoyed, probably because of Hearthrow's request that he repair a phone instead of work on tools that could smash skyscrapers into dust. Understandable. Ultimately though, him repairing phones was for the better. One of these days, he'd apply himself, and start figuring out a way to block Harry's effect.
"Thank you Tecton, damned thing keeps breaking," Hearthrow replied.
"About that sir," the young man said. "Stuff started breaking all around the office awfully close to Myrddin joining us, didn't it?"
"I noticed that, yes. And given the way he dislikes technology, I believe Myrddin noticed it as well."
"The thing is sir, you know how he keeps going on about how he's a wizard?" Tecton asked, catching Hearthrow's interest.
"Please don't tell me you actually believe him do you?"
"Well, it's… I tried to fix my stuff, make sure it didn't break down all that much, and the problem is that, you know…"
"What is it Tecton?" he asked.
"Well, at first I just used some basic techniques to make stuff hardier, make sure it wasn't mechanical failure, but every time I thought it was unbreakable, somehow the weakest link kept breaking," Tecton explained. "And, while I managed to reduce the rates of breakage, the effect remained."
"Go on," Hearthrow said.
"Well, it's a bit silly, but… I guess you can open your phone?" Everett asked.
Hearthrow looked at his newly fixed smartphone and opened it up with the little mechanism. Inside, he found some upgrades that Tecton had added to the design.
"Is that… water-cooling? Are you sure that's necessary for a phone?"
"That's the thing sir, it's a miniaturized water-cooling system, a microfluidic system designed for optimal grounding of energy. You know, heat and stuff. That, and… You can't really see them with the naked eye, but there's some stuff I etched into the circuitry-"
"You used circles and flowing water, and the effect stopped," Hearthrow interrupted. "Just like how Myrddin's abilities are blocked by flowing water, and how he uses circles for some of his stuff."
"Sir, I was wondering…" Tecton said.
"If magic was actually real? If Myrddin is an actual wizard?" Hearthrow interrupted.
"I mean, I know it sounds crazy sir, but it's just too much of a coincidence, what with the vampires in town and everything. Doesn't make sense if it was anything else, but the whole magic idea didn't make sense either."
"Look Tecton, the thing is…" Hearthrow sighed, wondering whether or not he had the right to take the young man in front of him down the rabbit hole. Then again, Tecton already knew about the existence of horrible creatures, of Endbringers and supervillains. "The thing is that magic is very much real indeed."
***
A few days after Leviathan
"Sir, she can't be more than fifteen years old," Revel said as she stood before his desk. Stood, not sat, the woman was being angry and stubborn again.
"Bank robbery, assaulting a charity event, involvement in a gang war. I'm sorry, Revel, but it doesn't look good," he replied.
"She told Armsmaster she was going undercover," she said.
"In a team with a Thinker Seven? And you believe that?" he continued.
"I believe that those were her original intentions, yes. Later actions can be explained by the level of manipulation such a Thinker is capable of, as well as Armsmaster being, well, himself."
"Armsmaster being himself?" he asked.
"He's known for being rather abrasive, focused on his own achievements. He's not a people person, and not the kind of guy that could properly talk a teenage girl out of doing something stupid. Hell, he probably wanted her to do it, just to give him an advantage in the field."
Hearthrow put down the file in his hand, and faked a sigh. He agreed with Revel's analysis, the Skitter girl probably wasn't going to be a problem beyond creating a panic whenever someone spotted her power in use. Revel, however, had a weak point when it came to children, so she needed someone to oppose her when it came to teenage villains, and teenagers in general. If it was up to her, juvenile hall would be replaced with a hug factory. He had to admit she had a point, up to a point. Criminals were usually criminals because of their situation, even parahuman ones. Unlike supernatural nasties, teenage supervillains could generally be rehabilitated with a steady hand and a few stern talking to's. A girl that had lost everything when fighting an Endbringer that was suddenly trying to be a hero? He couldn't have set up better Revel bait if he tried to.
"What if it's a trap?" Hearthrow asked. "What if she's trying to lure us in?"
"To what end?" Revel asked. "You think she's taken a turn for the worse? Gone from making money to kidnapping capes?"
"Money wouldn't explain her attack on that fundraiser," Hearthrow said.
"Unless it was part of a larger operation, given that the reports say that two independent villains suddenly helped them out there. Plus, she did say she needed just a bit more information."
"Information that she ended up never giving to Armsmaster. In fact, it seemed like she was part of the Undersiders until the end."
"Except footage from the strategy meeting before Leviathan's attack showed that she was standing apart from her team," Revel said.
"Fine..." Hearthrow sighed. "I'll accept her vigilantism as long as she behaves. You can tell your team that she's not a target."
"Thank you sir, I'll inform everyone else."
***
The day of the full moon
"So, who got you that belt?" Hearhtrow asked the tied up Hexenwolf sitting in front of him. The interrogation room was dark, a single light hanging from the ceiling above the prisoner, and another floating just besides him. There was a one-way mirror hanging on the wall, but no-one observing behind it. If there was, Tattletale would have noticed.
There was no response.
"It was your superior officer, wasn't it? Dude came out of nowhere with magic belts, you decide it matches your purse?" the little drone, Tattletale, said.
The Hexenwolf had an angry look on his face, and apparently, it was enough for Tattletale to make a conclusion.
"Yup, it's his direct superior. The people above that don't know about it, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," Tattletale continued.
"What do you mean?" Hearthrow asked.
"Well, they're not corrupt, they're just incompetent."
"Tell me something I didn't know yet."
"Hmmm. Lemme see. Our buddy here is annoyed at the general incompetence of his organization. He accepted the belt, in part, because his wife left him. No, wait, not wife. Boyfriend? Disease or broken relationship? Both? Wow, is he even dead yet?" Tattletale went on, somehow figuring out all the man's secrets just from his responses to her speculations.
"Anything we can use?"
"Sure, couple of things. His boss says he has a bigger plan, although they're not sure what the bigger plan is, and he's afraid there's no real plan. They're targeting criminals they couldn't get to before, which means you should double-check for corruption in all the cases surrounding their previous targets. If they're panicking, that probably means they'll try to go out in a bang of glory, taking down Marcone. He's annoyed that I seem to be reading in mind, partially because of my criminal record, even though he thinks I'm one of Myrddin's constructs."
"So what, he turns into a werewolf with a magic belt, but doesn't believe in ghosts?"
"I'm wondering what he thinks about bigfoot…" Tattletale replied. "Quick question, is bigfoot real?"
"The forest people exist, if that's what you're asking," Hearthrow replied.
"Any of them passing as parahumans?"
"Possibly, although most of them are reclusive and patient. They'll probably try to pass themselves off as one if found by a hunter."
"Say, is it okay for us to talk about this stuff in front of this guy?" the dead girl asked.
"Sure, why not? What's he going to do? Tell people that the director of the Chicago PRT believes in bigfoot?"
"You've got a point there," the girl said. Obviously annoyed that she hadn't thought of it from that perspective.
"So, back on topic. Can you get this guy to give up the location of their base of operations or something like that?"
"Sure, easy-peasy.
***
The night of the full moon
Hearthrow looked at the ruined mansion, and smiled. Perhaps it wasn't very professional of him. After all, he was supposed to stop parahumans - and Loup-Garous - from bothering the good citizens of Chicago. Then again, this was Marcone's place, and it wasn't like the man was short on money.
More interesting was the fact that the man's bodyguards had been rather well-armed. Wielding not just guns but a lot of the weapons that morning talk shows tended to describe as 'looking too scary to be legal'. Sure, they were more dangerous than what your grandmother used for self-defense, but compared to the weakest of parahumans? Then again, the PRT's propaganda department (or was it supposed to be PR? Was there a real difference?) was a lot better than the weapon industry's efforts.
"Revel, report," he said to the exhausted looking woman.
"Time-slows sir. The naked werewoman with the crazy eyes, she had a second trigger event that slows down time in an area for everything but the brain."
"Which you used to slow down the larger werewolf. Good strategy. What else? The morning news is almost starting and we need to do damage control."
"As theorized, the Hexenwolves tried to use the larger Wolf's berserk state to take down Marcone and his men. Made a damn good attempt at it too," she said, holding out a hand towards about two dozen corpses, littering the ground between the main battle site and Marcone's ruined mansion.
"Myrddin almost managed to stop things from growing out of control, but the beast broke out of his banishment when the moon rose. I think we have the Hexenwolves foamed down, but they could've gotten killed in the chaos. The girl with the smiley-face mask is also related to our wolf couple over there somehow, and I'm pretty sure she's the one behind the wreckages we've been finding."
"Do we have anything concrete?" Hearthrow asked.
"Not really. She tracked the Hexenwolves here, and she helped out once it became clear that it wasn't Marcone that was responsible, but people trying to get him killed," she said, almost sad about it. Knowing her, she'd have wanted to catch the girl and force her into the Wards as her personal redemption project.
"And what about the man of the hour?"
"Defended himself until we managed to talk to him. He still insists he's an upstanding citizen that's the victim of character assassination. Doesn't matter that he's obviously up to something, given that he had like fifty armed men defending his manions. I don't think there's anything easy we can nail him for, but-"
"But this entire thing could go very badly for his reputation, depending on the way we spin it. The werewolves, think we can recruit them?"
"The man? Maybe, but if he has as little control as it seems, he'll be of very little use. The woman though? She's wild, and madly in love. Put a little pressure on her fiancé and she'll be on our side, but it's up to you whether you're willing to go there. I'm not looking forward to working together with someone there against her will, but we need all the reinforcements we can get what with the vampires gearing up."
"Good. And one final question, why didn't you kill it?" he asked.
"I tried," Revel responded. "But Myrddin stopped me. Deflected the killing strike into its leg. It worked out in the end, but..."
"But that was a risk we knew about when we hired him. He's not the type to stand by and watch someone get killed, especially if he thinks they're innocent, or caught up in a bad situation. It is, however, something we need to keep an eye on. He's getting a lot of influence, especially with the Wards."
"Agreed sir. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get out of my costume and into my pajamas. I've got a Gray's Anatomy DVD waiting on me," she said, half-joking. She was tired, at least mentally.
"Go ahead Revel, on the condition that you in no way tell me about it later," he joked back, before making his way to the bloody naked couple.
The two of them looked tired and devastated, and the woman was holding on to the man in a desperation. They'd gone through hell tonight, and just barely survived it.
"Indecent exposure, trespassing, perhaps even jaywalking, that's quite a record you got there mister MacFinn," he said.
"You'll have to forgive me for not laughing, I'm in a rather grim mood," Harley MacFinn replied. It was hard not to recognize the man. He was rather famous as a conservationist, campaigning for national parks, forests, and other such things. High Society being what it was, that meant the PRT Director was quite familiar with the man, exchanging small pleasantries at one event or another for the past few years. Besides him, the wolf lady was hugging his arm in a daze.
"Yes, which is why I'm here," Hearthrow said. "Someone capable of a rampage like this every month is someone I need to keep an eye on."
"Thrice a month," MacFinn replied. "It happens about three days in a row." Obviously, the man had decided honesty was the way to go here.
"I see," he said. "And we haven't had any rampages before because?"
"Because I had a solution. A containment device that kept me locked up."
"I'm sure that's very comforting, but you're talking in the past tense here," Hearthrow said. As the conversation went on, Tera started glaring at him while one of his own troopers came along with a few emergency blankets to cover the two naked changers.
"It broke, a regrettable accident. I was getting it repaired when some ruffians pretending to be FBI agents kidnapped me."
"I'm afraid they weren't pretending to be," Hearthrow replied.
"Hey, Finn, this guy bothering you?" a girl's voice called out. Hearthrow turned to see a girl with a metal mask approaching. She was on the younger side of teenage, fourteen or so if he had to guess, and she was trying to be intimidating with her stance, hands on her hips and head facing straight forward. If he had been your average trust fund baby, it might even have worked.
"It's allright Mockshow, director Hearthrow and I were just having a talk," Harvey said as the girl came to stand at his side. The man put a hand on her shoulder, and whispered a quick thank you in her ear. Mockshow just looked happy the man was wearing an emergency blanket.
"So, your containment circle, do you have a way to repair it?" Hearthrow said.
MacFinn looked partially shocked at the revelation that Hearthrow knew it was a circle that was involved in the containment.
"I was hoping miss Parian would be able to help out, or perhaps one of your people if that doesn't work out?"
Hearthrow nodded. "Yes, that does seem to be a practical solution. There is, however, the legal matter involved," he said, motioning towards the carnage.
"Yes… I see… I presume that the courts won't accept my lack of control as an excuse?" Harvey said.
"If it comes to that… it will depend on the lawyer and the jury, but if you look at other recent cases of people without as much control as they thought they had," Hearthrow said.
"You're referring to the Canary case," MacFinn said.
"Yes, it's rather regrettable, the way the courts can turn on people."
"In other words, it would be better for me if this didn't go to court..." MacFinn said. He looked angry, something Hearthrow understood. He was playing politics, and MacFinn's freedom was one of the pieces on the board.
"It would, yes. Luckily, I don't think Marcone is going to try and take this to court, what with all the attention that would bring. Guns, grenade launchers, assault weapons, I'm not entirely sure all of this stuff here is legal…"
"Meaning it is entirely up to you," Mockshow said, as she and miss West were getting more angry.
"Meaning this is a situation in which I lost at least one of my men. Meaning that I'm going to have to tell his wife and children that he died on the job."
"You know I had no choice in the matter…" MacFinn said.
"What do you want?" West interrupted, baring her teeth.
"You," Hearthrow replied, looking her in the eyes. "Or something else that I can use to convince my superiors this wasn't a total loss," he continued, moving his eyes from the woman to the girl.
"Go fuck yourself," Mockshow said. West however, had a different reaction.
"If I work for you, you will protect him?" she asked, looking at her fiancé.
"I take care of my own," Hearthrow replied.
"Very well," West said.
"Good, we'll deal with the specifics later. For now, I have a crime boss to talk with," Hearthrow said.
Behind his back, he heard Mockshow make a rude remark. It didn't matter, he'd get his hands on her the moment they had something actionable on her, Revel would ensure it.
In the meantime, he made his way towards Marcone, who was commanding his men, taking care of the wounded and removing the rubble.
"Mister Marcone, how nice to meet you here," Hearthrow said.
"Director, it's been a while," Marcone smiled back.
"Can't help but notice you've made a bit of a mess of things."
"I've made a mess of things? It's your cape that tore down my golf course."
"Well, if you insist, I can ask Shuffle to try and put everything back where he found it," Hearthrow suggested.
"Or, you can keep your pet capes far away from me and mine," Marcone said. "If I remember correctly, your mandate covers parahuman crimes, not legitimate business opportunities."
"That's correct," Hearthrow replied. "That said, I can't help but notice some weapons around here that might not be entirely legal in this state, and it's still my duty to inform the mundane police about them."
"Of course, if you do such a thing, I'm afraid I'll have to inform some of my friends about your utter incompetence, allowing vigilantes and werewolves to assault me with impunity."
"And if such a thing were to reach the news, people would start asking why exactly some FBI agents would try to take you down," Hearthrow countered.
"And, of course, why there were werewolves in the FBI at all. They might even question whether or not it was because of the PRT's incompetence."
"Seems to me then, that making this entire thing official would be a case of Mutually Assured Destruction," Hearthrow said, internally chastising himself for doing what he faulted his colleagues for doing, making deals with the devil.
"That does seem to be the case, does it not?" Marcone replied.
It was a good deal, for now. It meant this entire event didn't turn into the massive shitstorm it could be. However, it also meant that Marcone had something on him. In the case that he managed to take the man down, Marcone would be able to reply in kind, convincing people that the PRT was willing to let parahumans murder people if it meant being recruited. He'd have to move more carefully around the man from now on, and that was not something he looked forward to.
The next time the FBI was being obstinate however, he had some new leverage to hold over them, perhaps some kind of oversight to make sure they correctly handled any 'parahuman' artefacts.
***
Two days after Behemoth
Hearthrow looked at the children assembled in front of him.
These weren't teenage gangsters he was intimidating into giving up information about their parahuman bosses. They weren't parahuman teenagers either, although they did have superpowers, for a given value of superpowers.
The children assembled in front of him were faeries, or at least, half-faeries. Changelings, if he was correct.
Sure, they hadn't told him that, but the signs were there nonetheless. The two girls both had green hair, and even the nervous and shy boy moved with a measure of grace most people didn't have.
"So, why exactly did you want to join the Wards?" he asked, looking over the three teenagers.
Unlike most new recruits, at least those who came of their own free will, they didn't immediately have an answer ready. Sure, most answers were just a "to be a hero, " or "because my parents won't let me go solo," but they were answers nonetheless.
The Changelings however, were just nervously standing there, each of them waiting for the others to say something.
Eventually, the big, tall girl, spoke up.
"Well sir, there's these people that, you know, they keep harassing us. We used to have someone to protect us, someone strong enough to keep us safe on his own, but…" she stopped in the middle of the sentence, a recent wound then.
"New Delhi," Hearthrow said. As far as he knew, there hadn't been anyone important that died in the local accident. Discounting Genoscythe.
"He called himself Summer Knight," the girl said.
"And now, you hope that by joining the Wards, you would be safe from whoever is after you," Hearthrow said.
"Yes sir," the girl said respectfully.
"Which brings us to the most important question. Who's after you?" he asked.
The three of them shut down, and the girl stopped talking. Apparently, it wasn't something they wanted to talk about. Or rather, something they thought they could talk about without being thought insane.
"Let me guess, Lloyd Slate and his Winter Court cronies," he said, namedropping the individual being discussed. It made sense. The Summer Knight opposed the Winter Knight in all things. If these kids were afraid because the Summer Knight had died, then it was probably because the Winter Knight was the one they were afraid of.
"I… You mean you…" the teenage boy said.
"Know about the existence of the faerie courts? Yes, I do. It's my job to know that kind of thing."
"So you'll help us?" the smaller girl asked.
"It's complicated," Hearthrow answered. "After all, I can't afford to start some sort of war with the Winter Court, and I'm not sure the Queen will like it if I steal her subjects away."
"You're saying…" the Changeling seemed to transform, their hope draining out of them.
"I'm saying I can't accept Changelings into the Wards, because I can't endanger my organization like that," he said. "A bunch of teenage grab-bags from a group trigger however, that's a different thing."
"What do you mean exactly, sir?" the larger girl asked.
"What I mean is that I can accept you into the Wards, but I can't promise to keep you away from the Winter Court."
"I'm not sure how that will help us sir," she said.
Hearthrow sighed, and send a pre-written message from his phone. Several seconds later, heavy footsteps were audible outside of the office.
"Director?" a voice called out as the door opened.
"Tecton, come in. I'd like you to meet some possible new teammates," Hearthrow said.
Tecton was wearing a suit of heavy power armor thrice his own weight. Normally, he had it colored in a rusty-brown color scheme, with Brass highlights. Today however, he'd foregone the finishing coating, instead showing the titanium-iron alloy it was made out of to the world.
"Good day everyone," Tecton said, while the Changelings were looking at Tecton, or more specifically, the massive amount of cold iron gathered around him.
"So, we've got a small problem. The Winter Knight seems to like harassing these young Changelings, and the Summer Knight didn't make it out of New Delhi," Hearthrow said.
"And you're offering them protection? You told me it was a bad idea to meddle in the affairs of the Faerie," Tecton replied.
"Correct, which is why I'm not specifically offering protection from Winter in return for joining the Wards," Hearthrow said.
"I see," Tecton replied. The boy had done a lot of learning in his few years in the Wards.
"I'm afraid I don't," the boy said.
"It's pretty simple. If he offered you protection from Winter, he'd involve himself in the affairs of Winter, which could come back to hurt us big time, especially since most of the Protectorate and the PRT aren't really in the know," Tecton explained. "However, if he offered you a job where you spend a very large amount of time near people like me and Cuff-"
"Plausible deniability," the boy said.
"In a way, yes. That way it's less deliberately choosing to protect you as a specific group, and more us protecting our own. But you've got the gist of it …" Tecton trailed of.
"Fix," the Changeling said, giving up his name.
"And you two?"
" Meryl" the taller girl said.
"Lily," a soft voice came from the smaller girl.
" So, how'd you get your powers, and what exactly are they?" Tecton asked.
"We're changelings, we have them from our parents," Meryl said.
"No," Tecton said. "You're parahumans, here to join the Wards. So how'd you get them, and what are they?"
"I was thinking group trigger," Hearthrow said. "Explains that there's three of them, and that they're grab-bags."
"Four," Lily said.
"Ace disagreed, he didn't want to come along," Meryl explained.
"Are you sure group triggers will work? Aren't they usually enemies? I mean, that's what the guy in the 103 course said," Tecton asked.
"It's fluid enough that people won't ask too much, we're talking back-up plan anyway. Something to tell the other Wards."
"Then it's probably best to keep it both simple and relatively true," Tecton said.
"A trigger event… I think we have some stuff worthy of those," Meryl said.
"Good, just make sure you're all on the same page there. Now for the good part, powers," Tecton continued.
"I'm half Troll," Meryl said. "So, Brute I guess."
"My mother was a Nixie," Lily said, nervously intertwining her fingers. "I can sing pretty well, but nothing like her."
"So, minor master effect? Which is probably better than a major one, given the problems a singing master can get into," Hearthrow said.
"Fucking bullshit, that entire case," Tecton replied.
"Fix?" Hearthrow asked.
"I uhm… I can repair cars," he said. "And I guess I can do some glamours. I'm not very good at them though."
"That, plus what I assume is at least some form of supernatural agility?" Hearthrow asked.
"A bit," Fix said. " Not much though. I've got two very graceful left feet."
"Doesn't matter, we'll think of something. People tend not to look beyond the obvious, and if necessary, I can build you something that might help you out. Remember, most people won't think twice about a parahuman with lackluster powers, they'll just be happy you're not a new Nillbog," Tecton reassured the boy.
Hearthrow smiled. If all went right, he'd have his hands on three new Wards, without having to resort to making deals with Winter. At least, he hoped it'd work out. If not, however, he always had the nuclear option. The best part of being the director of Department #4, instead of just being another member of the Venatori Umbrum, was that he was only a phone call away from Protectorate back-up. No, scratch that. Triumvirate back-up.