Step 6.11

"Hey, Taylor?"

I sighed, my hands sorting through hair products and finding none of the ones I needed. Didn't think about that.

"Yes?" I asked.

Charlotte's shadow stood on the other side of the shower curtain.

"I'm leaving a towel for you," she said. "And um, are you feeling any better?"

I inhaled. "No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Good thing Charlotte's an earnest person. Otherwise I'd take that as a bad joke.

"Talking to you about it won't help, sorry."

"It's okay. You just seem really angry."

"I am not angry."

I passed angry. Absolutely livid felt more appropriate.

I finished the lackluster shower and dried off. Charlotte's mother did me the favor o cleaning the clothes Pink flew me from the Workshop. Forgot how dirty they were in my rush to be anywhere but my house before I… Screamed, anything.

I went back to Charlotte's room.

"Did you get any sleep?" She asked.

I glanced down at my phone, nestled in the sheets of a sleeping bag her dad set out for me.

"Plenty."

I got dressed.

The Berman home is, homey? Lots of family photos on the walls, well-worn furniture, and a kind of sixties feel to the whole place? The Bermans seemed to never throw anything out. Not to imply they hoarded or anything, but the chairs seemed like someone glued them back together, or replaced the leg entirely. The walls got repainted in the same color, and the same sheets got patched instead of thrown out. It didn't look trashy. Kind of gave everything a little taste of character.

It seemed like the best place to go. I didn't want to impose on the Alcott's, and while the Workshop might be safe Dad knew how to find it. A cheap hotel might be an option, but not a smart one. Astraea isn't comfortable enough to sleep in, and I tried that.

A single bedroom at the end of the hall lay unused. A boy's room I think. Lots of baseball stuff inside.

Charlotte's brother.

Shockingly, their family reminder helped me a bit. Reminded me what I needed to do, and as angrier as that got me, it needed to be done.

Feet first.

I went downstairs. Charlotte's mom cooked breakfast, and I frowned.

"Sorry, I showed up in the middle of the night."

Charlotte's mother raised her head and offered me a tense smile. "It's fine. Sometimes we all need our space."

I inhaled again. I can't be mad at her.

"Hungry?" The woman asked.

"Yes, but I'm going to," – I pulled my glasses down and rubbed my eyes – "go home. And deal with my dad."

Charlotte looked at me with a worried gaze. "You're not going to walk, are you?"

"She shouldn't," her mother said. "Not right now."

"I know my way around," I said. And the Haros are watching the house.

"Don't be stubborn." Charlotte's father got up from the table and pulled a coat from the wall. "I'll drive you. Stick around for a bit and take you somewhere else if you want, but you ain't walking." He grabbed his keys and… Fine. Whatever.

I did not have the energy to fight the point. Needed to save all of it for another point entirely.

I pulled out my phone while he started the car.

sys.t/ I need to be busy today
sys.t/ is everything ready?

sys.v/ all 89 profiles are prepared
sys.v/ execute?

sys.t/ yes
sys.t/ is Lafter there?

sys.l/ yup

sys.t/ I'll drop by later

The drive didn't take long, because the Bermans didn't live far away.

"Torched my old man pretty bad once," he said as he pulled up to the driveway.

I scowled. "And let me guess, you feel bad about it?"

"No. He deserved it. But I feel bad we never spoke again." Mr. Berman looked over at me with a hard face. "Don't burn any bridges you can't build back."

I simply nodded and stepped out.

I already figured that part. Whole reason I didn't go home. Think I'd scream at him, pack a bag, and go live in the workshop. Still might, but if I did that I wanted to do it with a much leveler head.

The Merchants were dead. The Empire and the ABB might keep their heads down as agreed, but they'd never be idle. They'd start recruiting, picking up the scraps. I needed to get ahead of them and I didn't have time for self-pity, remaking plans, or any of that crap.

I walked in the front door.

"Not now," I snapped.

Dad sat back down, and I went upstairs and took another shower. Half because I'd not properly done anything with my hair in over twenty-four hours and half because I needed to let the spike in my emotional spectrum teeter out. I lingered long after the hot water ran out, and then took my time rinsing my hair out and drying it off.

When I got back downstairs, Pink was making breakfast. That's a thing now apparently. I didn't pay much attention to what. Something with eggs, smelled pretty good.

He didn't say anything, and neither did I. I needed to sort myself first, because I did not plan on redoing, regretting, or lingering on this.

That's probably the most fucked up part of all.

"You don't get how this feels for me, do you?" I asked.

Dad sweated. "Taylor-"

"No. It's my turn to talk." I narrowed my eyes. "Dr. Yamada says talking honestly is very important." Right before she called the entire thing off, probably a good call on her part. "So, I'm going to talk honestly, and unlike someone I'm not tricking anyone into it. And to answer your question, yes, we 'talked.' We specifically discussed trust."

I might make another appointment just to build a handheld MRI and check. That woman's ability to get you to talk is not natural.

How I reacted to surprise therapy did not line up with how I'd expect to react. I think I'd been too shocked and dumbfounded at first. It took me a few minutes to really react on an emotional level, at which point I started ranting more than talking and Yamada's attempts to calm me didn't work. I still said far more than I expected. Storming out of the room only happened twenty, twenty-five minutes after I entered.

Dad could suck on that too, because she actually seemed like a decent therapist. Personable, but sharp? Like if someone took Tattletale and ripped all the smug bitchiness out of her. I might have gotten some good therapy out of it if she weren't an unwanted birthday present under the Christmas tree.

Pink slid a plate in front of me. Omelet, ham and cheese. Smelled pretty good.

Dad's lips parted, "That was-"

I stabbed a fork into the plate.

"My. Turn. That was fucked up, Dad. It was dirty. Really, really, fucking dirty. You do not do that. Least of all to me." My voice started to rise, but I forced it back down. "Right now, I only want yes or no answers." I pointed the fork at him. "That whole thing was your idea, wasn't it?"

Dad looked like a man trapped in the ocean without a life preserver. Not very happy I took some pleasure in that. Whatever. The rational part of me could have her day after the angry part got her say.

"Yes."

"Ramius told you it was a bad idea, didn't she?"

"Yes."

I didn't fathom Ramius burning the fields that spectacularly. My trust might as well be her job description, and she's too smart to blow it up like that. I didn't have a clue why she'd go along with such an obviously bad idea, but I intended to find out. Later. When I got my anger more sorted.

And fuck him again for making me rationalize which personal relationships tried to screw me over and which ones just went along for the ride.

That question answered, "Fuck you. That was fucked up. The last time I saw anyone with 'psy' in their title I was in a hospital, after my trigger event, under a psyche hold convinced I'd gone mad because getting superpowers is not a picnic!"

I sat back down in my chair and ate the damn omelet. Pink slid another toward dad, and then hopped over to the sink to start washing dishes.

"And do you know the most fucked up part about it, Dad?" My knuckles turned white as I gripped the fork. "I don't get a choice here."

I inhaled deeply. And then again. I probably looked crazy doing that, wonderful.

"I'm used to this roller coaster now. Brockton Bay doesn't let me do what I want. Everyone else has plans too, and their plans get in the way of my plans. I have to dance constantly, adapt, make the most of bad situations. Strike when openings present themselves. Fine. I get to choose how I handle psychotic assassins and drugged out tinkers. My choice."

"And I don't get a choice here, because I need you. And I'm not talking about needing my father. I need the Dockworkers." And I saw the way that stung him. "I built my plans around the Dockworkers. They're the only group in this entire city I know the gangs don't have their claws in. The only ones I know have some principles. That I can trust with things I can't trust anyone else with."

"The head of hiring is an important position in that relationship, Dad. I am not erasing my plans six months in and starting over. I am not quitting like that. I have to make this," – I pointed at him and then at me – "work, because I can't deal with you as Newtype and be furious with you as Taylor, so fuck you twice. You might as well put me in the locker again. I don't have a way out, and I hope that sinks in. I can get over how utterly enraged I am right now, but I am going to resent what you tried to do to me last night and that feeling of resentment, that betrayal? That is never going away."

I slammed the fork down and drank my orange juice.

Satisfied is not the right word. I still felt pissed. Part of me wanted to scream, pack a bag, slam the door behind me and never turn back. But like I said, I didn't get that choice. I'd set out on my path and I wasn't turning back. Not like-

"Fine."

I froze, looking him in the eye. "Come again?"

"Fine," he said. "Resent me. I didn't think of it that way, or anyway maybe. I fucked up. I'm sorry, Taylor. But if we're going to have this out, let's have it out, because you're not giving me a choice either."

I opened my mouth, but he mimicked me by stabbing his fork into his plate.

"I'm terrified of the things that could happen to you. And I'm terrified that it'll happen because I didn't try hard enough. Maybe this time I tried too hard and made things worse. But I am going to do what I have to do, because you are going to bury me. Right next to Annette. You're going to do that, and it will not be the other way around. I will not sit here, the bystander father, doing nothing."

I glared at him.

He glared at me.

Damn Hebert family genes.

I got up from the table and turned to the door.

"Are you coming back?" Dad asked.

"Later."

I still felt livid, and Mr. Berman was right.

If I salted the field, I'd rather do it with a level head. I needed to keep a functional relationship with my father for the sake of my goals, but that didn't mean I needed to live in his house. I'd make up my mind after calming down more.

I got in Mr. Berman's car and asked him to take me to the library. I'd find my way to the workshop from there.

I needed to be productive.

sys.v/ are you angry at him?
Sys.v/ or with him?

I mulled.

sys.t/ I'll decide when I'm less angry

I got into the workshop with only a little time to spare. No time to waste, and I felt in the mood to focus on my work. So, full steam ahead.

"Bring up the profiles," I said as I donned my mask. "I want to review them before the meeting."

"Loading," Veda said.

Lafter wandered into the room half-dressed and yawning. She stopped mid yawn and blinked at me.

"Uh. How are you doing?" She asked.

"Not fine," I said. "I'll get over it."

"Okaaaaay."

Shockingly, I think I needed some Lafter.

She probably knew something happened. Dad said he'd take care of her in the aftermath, and I stormed off on my own but he wouldn't leave her hanging. Fortunately, Lafter might tease me relentlessly, but she knew how to read a room. She never shoved me out of my comfort zone at full force.

She walked in and sat on the workbench, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"So, Cranial bit it?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. Fucked up what she did."

I nodded. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "I'll get over it," she said. "Squirt called by the way. You weren't answering your phone."

I checked mine and frowned. Dinah did call, and I'd ignored it I guess? I sent her a message and apologized. I didn't explain what happened, because I did not want to talk about it, but I couldn't leave her with nothing. Getting her back to her house without blowing anything turned out not to be too hard.

She just said my Dad didn't want to drive her home until the gunfire stopped. Her parents worried of course, but that's Brockton Bay. Everyone who lived here knew how it went.

sys.t/ sorry to ask, but can you answer a question?

sys.d/ just one

sys.t/ no one asked any others last night?

sys.d/ no
sys.d/ promise

sys.t/ what is in the local Brockton Bay news next week?

Dinah gave me her results, and I thanked her. I liked what I saw. The city seemed quiet. The gangs in every possibility she saw kept to the peace. At least for the next week. If she'd seen even one where they didn't I might reconsider, but I wanted to handle today in exactly one way.

sys.t/ you were okay
sys.t/ with tattletale and grue

sys.d/ tattletale isn't that bad
sys.d/ just doesn't know when to shut up

sys.t/ agree to disagree

sys.d/ Grue said thankyou
sys.d/ for helping his sister
sys.d/ he said good when Velocity said Cranial died

Well, even villains can have standards. Thinking of Cranial though…

I inhaled and made the damn call.

"That's fucked up what you did," I said.

"It was my idea," Ramius said.

I rolled my eyes. "Bullshit. You're not that dumb. Dad already admitted to it anyway."

Ramius sighed.

"Why are you trying to take the fall?" I asked.

"Because he's your father," she said. "You need him more than you need me."

Already figured that out.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"I do not want to decompress this now," I said. "I'll do it later. Tell me what happened with Cranial's kids."

"They're still being screened," Ramius said in a very professional tone. "It's going to be a multi-day process for them. Probably longer."

"Is Dragon still around?"

"Do you want to talk to her?"

Seeing as she's the only adult in my life I extended any trust to who didn't take part in a crock of crap against me, "Yes."

"I'll let her know you're looking for her."

"Thank you," I said tersely.

I had Veda send her a message too. Not sure why I didn't do that in the first place, but whatever.

I could burn my bridges much easier with Ramius, but… Yeah. That was not her idea, and she'd totally try and fall on dad's sword for my sake. That's her. Fucked up how that made it easier to envision mending fences with my PRT handler than my father. That's not how being a family should work.

"Who are they?" Lafter asked, pointing past me and looking at all the pictures on the screens.

"Merchants," I said.

The eighty-nine cleanest Merchants Veda could find.

Long rap sheets for all of them. Possession, intent, distribution. Not much violence though, that was a must. A few assaults, some battery. Mostly related to bar room brawls, typical stupid person stuff. No murders. No rapes. No domestic abuse. None I knew of anyway. I'd need to do a more thorough screening before going all in. I expected to lose maybe half of them after that, but fine.

The other half were what I needed.

Men with families, children, siblings. People with cause to want to put something better together. They'd all tried to distance themselves from the Merchants. A lot of them hadn't been arrested in over a year. They treated their parole seriously. Some of them went to anonymous groups for drug or alcohol addiction, and a few took part in community service outside their legal restrictions.

I'd be able to work with that.

I ran through a new mental checklist, mostly the things I needed to do before Leviathan or the gang war kicked in the door.

Deal with Dad? Tentative.

Deal with Ramius? I will tentatively get over it. Eventually.

Deal with my traumas? Not fucking now I'm only a little bit bitter.

Full armor system? In progress.

Queen Gundam? To do.

Recruit some ex-cons to the cause? Let's.

If Dinah's possibilities held true, Leviathan didn't strike next week. That would make local papers. I'd already checked and confirmed Dinah couldn't see Endbringers with her power. She'd be blind during any fight and couldn't help me prepare before it, but knowing the fight happened after the fact?

She might manage that.

Could actually warn the PRT when Dinah started seeing something. We might narrow down targets and prepare a better response. Until then, I needed to get things done and not just because I needed to move quickly.

Working is preferable to stewing in my anger.

"Do you want to rest today?" I asked.

Lafter waved her hand. "Nah, I'm good. Feeling kind of limber, actually."

"Go down to the factory. I'm going to be there in thirty minutes. It should be fine, but something could happen."

"I got it." She sauntered off out of the workshop, and I took a brief seat.

Funny how righteous fury works. It reaches the point where you're so tired of being angry about something, you start wanting to be angry about something else. Shockingly, my anger at a certain idiot worked itself out a bit too easily in light of Dad's monumental fuck up

I picked a few names out of the files for later and got up.

Time to make a point.

I bypassed the unmarked PRT vehicle watching their building by going in the back door. I knocked, and waited in full view of the peep hole. When no one answered – they were whispering behind the door – I knocked again.

Ms. Medina opened it, staring at me.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

"I need to talk to Trevor."

The woman narrowed her gaze. "I'd rather you didn't."

"And he needs to get it." Damnit it Dad. I understood the expression on her face. I understood it far better than I wanted to. "This isn't about the fight. It's about him staying alive." Trevor emerged from within the apartment, looking at me with a mix of anger and shame.

Guess he didn't like how our talk ended either, and simultaneously didn't feel like he'd been wrong. Me neither, and likewise.

He stepped forward on his own, asking, "What is it?"

"Get your coat," I said. "Or your costume. Either works. I want you to see something." I looked to his mother. "You can come too if you want. It won't be dangerous."

I turned down the hall and started walking. If they wanted to come they'd come, if not they'd stay. Either way I'd done what I could do.

Fortunately they followed me. More because Trevor wanted to I think, and his mother didn't want him going off with me alone.

I felt a little selfish doing this, but I needed to do it. If nothing else, Trevor emphasized a certain failing of mine.

People didn't know what I was about. I didn't tell them, and I didn't really share. I built up my plans behind the scenes to hide them from the gangs, and somewhere along the line I kept doing that. I couldn't. Sooner or later everything needed to come out in the open, whether it be that parents sometimes made the shittiest choices, or teenagers are stubborn assholes.

For me? I needed to get my face out of the background. No more Merchants, no more time to fool around.

Now or never.

I lead Trevor and his mother to the factory. The PRT car followed, and so did some of the guys the gangs planted around his house to watch him. The Haros flew down and faced them. Needed to make the point I knew they were there so no one got any funny ideas later.

The Dockworkers put the place together great. It looked clean and new, with fresh windows and paint, and a rebuilt wall on one side. I still needed to burrow out the basement, and I'd need Dockworkers for that but I couldn't talk to Dad about it now. Maybe in the morning.

I took them both into the vacant office space overlooking the warehouse floor.

"Wait here," I said. "No one can see you from below, not even me. Leave if it suits you, or stay and watch."

Trevor narrowed his eyes.

"Watch what?" He asked.

I turned to the door. "What I'm about."

I stepped down the stairs and stood in the factory.

I left the lights in the back half of the building off, shrouding it in shadows.

I already knew how I wanted to arrange the space. Planned the whole thing out. A conveyor line here and there, assembly along the far wall with programming at the end with quality assurance. I'd need to train pretty much all the workers myself. None of them would have the experience I needed, but that's Brockton Bay. Veda could help, and maybe Trevor too if that's what he wanted.

His choice.

I'm very much in favor of making sure people understood their choices.

Green rolled over from the electrical shed, and Veda said, "They are waiting."

"How many?" I asked.

"Sixty-seven of those queried have responded."

Down twenty already.

I glanced back into the darkened end of the warehouse. "Everything ready?"

"Yes."

"Bring them in," I said.

I crossed my arms and smoothed out my features. The door to my left opened, and the first man looked into the room. He saw me and froze, and I said, "You're not under arrest. This is a friendly chat. Leave if you want. No one will follow you."

Some of them would leave, but I didn't see how many. I didn't count how many entered the room. I saw enough.

They looked like Merchants for the most part. Lots of tattoos, and quite a few skinny builds. A few looked atypical. One wore a plaid shirt and nice pants with a cross hanging from his neck. Found God I suppose. Another wore suspenders and work gloves. Construction? That might be useful. A few looked like normal guys you'd see on the street, not the stereotypical Merchants. None of them seemed to be missing any fingers, so they didn't catch anything from Stratos last night.

The men whispered to one another, some pointing, snapping. Two left after entering the room and left the door open.

The rest stayed. A few of them stepped forward, de facto leaders I guessed. The guy with the cross stood among them, and a fatter man with a balding head.

"Hello," I said.

"What do you want?" The bald guy asked.

I forced a smile on my face.

"How would you like a job?"

That got some looks of surprise.

"Job?" Cross guy asked. "What kind of job?"

"The kind where you work nine to five for better than minimum wage, get medical and dental, pay your taxes, and feel good about yourselves at the end of the day."

"You're fucking with us," someone said.

I let the air hang quiet for a moment.

"Skidmark is gone. Whirlygig, Squealer, and Mush have been arrested. Trainwreck has made himself scarce. It's over. The Protectorate, New Wave, and I trashed what remained last night. The Merchants are dead."

Some of them looked a little torn, which might be understandable. No one disagreed with me, though.

"Soon enough the ABB and the Empire will start pushing in. They'll start recruiting. Those of you with dark skin won't be welcome anymore." I looked at the fat balding man. "And those of you who are Asian will be told to join up or get out." I glanced to the cross guy. "And I'm sure I'm not the only white person here who has their stomach turned by Nazis." I nodded to the guy in the overalls.

"So, you all have choices to make, and I'm throwing my hat in the ring."

Green popped his hand out, holding a piece of paper.

"I won't let this city die, but I can't stop it while shutting you and people like you out. The gangs have run Brockton Bay long enough even decent people have been dragged into the mud. I know a guy so desperate for work he actually joined up with Uber and Leet." Wonder whatever happened to Gary. "I can keep beating you all up under your new employers, or picking you up after your new oppressors beat you down, or I can do something more productive."

I took the paper from Green and held it up.

"I'm building a factory, right here. It's going to produce robots like Green," – I nodded my head toward him while he did a twirl – "and I'm going to sell them to hospitals, clinics, nursing homes. Anywhere where people need help and don't have enough hands. I've already hired the Dockworkers, but there aren't enough of them and it'll take a few hundred people to make this place run."

The Dockworkers could of course hire more people, but that didn't solve the problem. Brockton Bay needed an economy that existed above water. Real work for people who wanted it. An alternative to crime. And I needed to keep the Dockworkers gang free. Some of the guys in front of me might backfire, relapse, betray the trust I offered.

I need the Dockworkers.

And I needed these guys.

They'd just become criminals again when the ABB and Empire started pushing. Or dead. Or dead criminals.

I held the paper out toward the men, and Navy and Pink flew in from the shadows behind me with a box more. Red and Purple rolled across the floor, dragging a fold out table behind them. It looked ridiculous, but that's kind of the point.

Cute robots are disarming.

"Write down your name, address, and phone number, sign on the dotted line. If you have a parole officer write their name and number down too. I'll give them a call and make this work."

I set the paper on the table and Pink jumped up and set down some pens.

"A lot of you have families. Some of you I think are trying to turn over a new leaf and get your lives together. You've distanced yourselves from the Merchants, been sticking to your parole, your programs. Good. I can work with that."

I turned on my heel and walked away. Lafter waved from her hiding spot around a corner, beam saber in hand. I kept my back straight and head forward, but I watched the men through the Haros.

"And when the Empire and the ABB beat down our doors because we work for you?" The Bald Man asked.

I stopped, but didn't turn.

Because we work for you, said like he'd already accepted it.

"I can't be everywhere at once," I said. "I can't promise you that you'll be safe all the time. This is still Brockton Bay. What I can say is that I'll do what I can. Anyone who busts your door down will find me at theirs. Anyone who gets hurt on or off the job will have my support. If the worst happens… I'll make sure there's justice."

sys.t/ now

The room ahead of me lit up in a brilliant flash, Astraea's head rose and green light rolling across the floor in waves.

I met my suits eyes.

There's too much at stake.

"The world is going to change," I said. "I'll make it change."

The theatrics out of the way, I kept walking. The men stood around for a moment longer. Some started whispering. More walked out of the room. Disappointing. I'd given the best speech I could, but I'd planned to do this a year from now, and I never planned for the night before to be so trying.

But that's the choice.

Let it sit and miss my chance, or strike while the iron is hottest and get the point across.

Cross guy stepped forward first. Pink held up a pen, and he took it. He filled out the paperwork, and Purple took the form from him.

"Thank you," Veda said. "You will be contacted by the end of the week."

The Bald Man followed, and that seemed to break the line of uncertainty. The rest of them stepped forward, forming a loose line. The Haros managed the small initial rush and got everything proceeding smoothly after.

I went back upstairs.

Trevor and his mom watched.

"Want a job?" I asked.

Trevor turned and frowned.

"I don't mean as a hero," I said. I nodded out to the empty floor. "This place will need a tinker. I can't be here all the time keeping it running. You can finish school, have a space of your own to work your tech, go your own way when you're ready. If nothing else it's something to do while you figure out what you want."

I looked him in the eye.

"The choices suck. They're not what you want. I get it. I deal with it all the time. You need to join a team if you're going to go out and be a hero or you need to start your own, carefully. If you don't want to be a hero, make it obvious you're not a threat. At the end of the day no one fucks with Parian because she's not worth it. She minds her own business, makes dresses, and entertains kids. She doesn't work with heroes or villains, and that keeps her and her family safe."

"You'd probably be less safe here than other places, but here you'd at least have me and mine ready to throw anyone who tries to touch you to the curb. So it's your choice Trevor, but you need to choose."

I waved to them and started toward the exit.

"I thought you'd be angry at me," Trevor said.

Fortunately for him, someone did something much worse and drew all my ire. That mostly left rationality to handle how I wanted to deal with Trevor.

"I know what it's like to look around and know the world is wrong. But the world is made by people who do something. People like those ex-junkies and thugs down there who are trying to do better. If you look around and don't like what you see, do something about it. You can't just wander around doing whatever."

I opened my door.

"Telling me I'm full of shit is probably the first real choice you've made since you put on your mask."

I let the door shut behind me.

I suppose I did feel bitter. Being called a bully is bullshit, especially by someone who stood by and watched as a past time. But, Dad really did royally fuck up worse than anyone else in my life in a while. Any bitterness got drowned out.

I strolled along the fence line around the building, making eye contact with the three Empire guys watching, the two ABB, and the small group of Merchants arguing on the corner opposite them. The PRT vehicle remained parked a little up the road, the figures inside on their phones.

Good.

A full audience.

I walked around to the front gate. I took a moment to fully assess my options. I'd done it already twice throughout the night, but I wanted to be sure anger didn't play too big a role in my choice. I really wished I'd had time to build up some proper defenses, but… Anyone who hit me now violated the little peace we negotiated last night. That made them a target for everyone, and Eidolon already showed up in town and showcased a certain willingness to follow through on threats. If the ABB came at me now, I could strike back and the Empire would hit them too. Same the other way around.

It wouldn't last long, but if I used the next week or two to tinker as much as possible, and everyone else kept themselves to the smarter choices, it would work.

And a little bravado might come off as absolute confidence.

I reached up to the tarp covering the sign and pulled.

The boys did a nice job on it. Good bold lines in gold and blue, a halo that stood out from the rest of the icon, and the words nice and big for all to see.

Celestial Being.

I tossed the tarp aside and walked back into the fence. The gate closed behind me, Orange popping up inside the guardhouse and watching the exterior.

"Nice hat," I said.

"Thank you, thank you." He straightened his police cap and resumed his watch.

No point trying to figure out where he got it. I don't know where the Haros find things.

I walked back toward the factory.

It was too important. I couldn't burn it down. I couldn't go back. I refused. So I'd make peace with Dad for now, and work my way to forgiveness… When I got around to it. Let the man sweat a little more, he deserved it.

In the meantime, best to have something to focus on.

One gang down.

Two to go.