Interlude - Alexandria
"It's not over yet."
"I know."
"Same as always. We do what we have to do."
"I know."
"It was always going to come to this."
Rebecca sighed, and tried not to let it show. Continuing the hushed tone so low someone standing next to them wouldn't quite hear it, she said, "I know, Michael."
The man looked entirely too relaxed at her side, but he'd been honing the image of Hero as long as she'd been perfecting Alexandria. Part of her hoped he'd look a little more disappointed. It wasn't over. They were doing what they needed to do. It would always end one way or another.
It represented twenty years of their lives. More, even.
"Philadelphia Protectorate," Reed droned as another flash of light delivered Chevalier.
The position of the command center on a mountainside overlooking the narrow valley afforded an excellent view of the operating base.
Ben's team followed behind him, and their Wards, moving down from the arrival pads hastily put together mere minutes ago by a team of shakers. Rime and Eidolon waited at the bottom of the ramp and directed them.
Legend floated a little above, present but not the figure he used to be.
The Simurgh's damage was done.
Legend lowered as Chevalier's feet touched the ground and pulled him aside. That's when it really hit her that things were truly over. Legend had spoken before nearly every Endbringer fight for eight years. It was always him, inspiring others and promising them they were doing the right thing. The best thing.
Now it would be Ben, mainly because Ben was the next best choice.
She wanted to fight that. That's what her instincts told her. Fight to keep hold of a lifetime of dedication…but that was emotional.
There was no way out now. The Triumvirate was broken, not because they'd fallen out or profoundly failed, but because no one trusted them to be in charge anymore.
The political vultures were circling. Some of those she'd manipulated to get the policies she wanted were stepping forward. Decade-old scandals and skeletons were paltry in light of something more immediate.
Blue Cosmos was gaining steam. With the vultures circling, and so many finding violence the only prospect on their horizon, they did what any thinking person does. They asked themselves 'what is best for me.' Many would choose Blue Cosmos over the alternatives, those who were angry and held grudges. The effects were already emerging as Ward and Protectorate patrols were assaulted in public and death threats started becoming uncomfortably specific.
They might have managed had Faultline not found Blue Cosmos' arms and Arbiter not left.
Damn her.
The storm was coming. She'd spent years arranging the board. Picking the pieces. Positioning them. Keeping the game going. In return, the pieces expected her to leave.
Continuing the low tone they'd been using since they started, Rebecca said, "We need to rein in Tagg."
"I know," Michael agreed. He didn't really speak so much as move his lips. Rebecca picked up the words and they'd perfected the method well over the past decade.
If they didn't, Tagg would run rampant. Congress was already antsy with everything around Blue Cosmos. Replacing the current Chief Director with a pitbull who brokered no compromise was exactly the kind of thing they'd do in the heat of the moment.
James was a useful tool when on a leash. Off a leash, he was a dangerous fanatic. She sequestered him away in New York for years. Legend—Kieth—could contain him there. The local heroes and regular law enforcement liked him more than they liked the local Director.
Putting him at the top of the PRT would be a disaster.
Firing Murrue Ramius to spite Newtype would only be the first and least of the dumb things that man would do. And it was spite. She knew James' persona too well to believe his excuses. The girl made him look foolish and he created an entirely new problem to get back at her.
Everything would be undone.
In the moment, Rebecca realized how real that possibility was.
No one listened to her anymore, not like they used to. Even here, on the cusp of an Endbringer battle, she saw the wary looks of suspicion and distrust all around her. The vial rumors were alive and well again. Capes were looking at other capes wondering who was a 'real' cape and who wasn't.
The damn trigger events.
Those who had them would turn on those who hadn't. They'd feel betrayed. Disheartened. If knowledge of how the vials were produced broke—and Rebecca considered that inevitable now—then the Protectorate might fall apart. The Case-53s would leave en masse. Parents wouldn't feel safe trusting their children to the Wards. Heroes of conscience, the best heroes, would quit.
Everything she'd worked for, undone.
"Brockton Bay," Reed announced.
Armsmaster emerged from Strider's power, followed by Miss Militia, Stratos, Dauntless, and Prism.
Poor Rory. Legend had tried to argue for him, but he was likely to go down with the three of them. He simply came up too frequently. People noticed. Didn't take thinkers to look back over old news reports and PHO posts and notice him.
Ben might be in trouble too given that Façade used a clone of him. It was his old costume, before he became a Protectorate team leader. Public opinion might not care.
"End of the week," Rebecca whispered. "Before the truce ends."
"You, me, and Kieth," Michael agreed.
Behind Armsmaster, the Wards followed. Weld was notably downcast, a stark contrast to Vista's dignified poise.
"We admit to nothing," she continued. "We can't lead under these investigations. We're stepping down for the greater good."
Michael nodded. "Maybe we'll manage to save Sam, Diane, and the others."
Yes. Hopefully. "No reason to bring them down with—"
Green light burst and air whined as Newtype's Gundam launched into the air. Two others followed. All three ignored Eidolon and Rime and flew north. Alexandria would have reacted to that, but she was too busy watching the other four machines as they hovered onward.
Turning to Reed and raising her voice, she snapped, "What are those?"
The thinker kept his back to her. Rebecca ignored how much that hurt. She'd known the man since he was a child, and he was too smart to disbelieve what he'd heard.
He didn't believe in her anymore.
"Armsmaster is calling them Tierens," Reed replied. "Automated drones controlled by StarGazer."
Another machine army?
The robots drove straight toward the medical tents, falling to their knees as Chariot jumped off one's back. Containers in their hands opened, and dozens of Newtype's robots jumped out. Bakuda descended from the platform slowly, ignoring Rime and Eidolon much as Newtype did.
Something about her body language was odd. Reports and analysis labeled her as manic and unstable, but she'd been remarkably quiet since Lung's arrest. No threats. No crimes. No collateral damage. Her only meaningful actions were a few brushes with other villains and disabling the Butcher.
The two tinkers had been seen thrice now walking through the city and talking.
Tagg wanted to arrest them both, but the only thing more damaging than a hero trying to blur the line was an entire city revolting because the PRT tried taking theirs away. Newtype had no shortage of local enemies, but as far as the masses of the city were concerned, she'd done the impossible. She rated higher than the local Protectorate team, the Wards, or New Wave short of Panacea. By wide margins.
Even some of the villains liked her.
Turning her attention to Armsmaster, Rebecca was mildly relieved to see them all joining the lines with the other teams. They couldn't afford any more dissent in the ranks. Not now. It was one thing for everyone to distrust the Triumvirate, but they needed to keep trusting each other.
Newtype flew toward the mountaintop, settling her suit near the peak while the other two floated on either side. She'd brought one of her railguns with her, a version much larger than what she'd built in Boston. Looking close, the projectile was a bit odd. The head was rounded rather than pointed, with small slits in the side. Odd.
"Becca," Michael chided.
"She—"
"If we go after her now, it'll only damage everything we're trying to save. Let Chambers and the others navigate her rhetoric. It can't be us."
As if it were such a small thing. Rebecca almost wondered if Danny Hebert had an affair with Lustrum, because his daughter acted like her. That didn't even touch the multiple Gemmas and how she kept appearing in the middle of things.
"We have bigger things to deal with," he insisted. "Let her talk. We're not tyrants."
She doubted others would see it that way. She'd considered explaining the Case-53s. Finding the dying and offering them a chance to live was hardly the horror many seemed to be assuming. It's not like they forced anyone. If someone said no then Cauldron put them right back where they found them.
No one would care for that distinction, she suspected. Never mind the stakes at play…or the years Doctor Mother spent trying to reverse her own research and fix the damage.
Michael looked away, whispering, "Sooner or later we all have to look back, and face the things we've done. Sadly, that time is now."
He always was better at good lines.
"She's dangerous," Rebecca warned. "Something—"
"And we'll keep an eye on it. Letting others handle her while she's just annoying doesn't mean we don't do what needs to be done, especially now, but we're not going to go after her because she's a little mean."
Looking forward, Rebecca looked out over the assembly. Hundreds of capes, young and old. A life's work trying to keep humanity in a fight it was never meant to win, let alone survive. The teams arrayed in lines, standing at the ready. Not just the Protectorate or the Wards either. Corporate teams. Independents. Small individually but large together.
The fact they were standing just north of the ruins of Kyushu added a poetic element to the scene. Admittedly, it was hard to tell Japan was struggling from here. One would need to go a few more miles south to see the sunken cities and shantytowns. The mountains rose high, shrouded by low lying clouds, and the coast in the distance had returned to a near virgin state in the absence of a population.
Thinking of Chambers… "He's preparing?"
"Glenn's been prepared. Man is almost precognitive in his ability to smell disaster before it happens."
"Has he picked a location?"
"New York." Made sense. "End of the month. News about us should be dying by then and people will be ready for something big and flashy."
Proof that the Protectorate wasn't dead yet. New leaders. Future leaders. New toys to wow the crowd. "Dragon?"
"You know the answer is yes."
"I'm making sure. We won't be able to manage the event directly." Which meant someone would screw it up. Michael nodded, and a small flicker in his lips drew Rebecca's interest. "What?"
He hesitated. "We can't do anything about it."
"Tell me."
He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "She put in for a guest pass."
Guest pass? Why woul—Rebecca glanced to the mountaintop, where Newtype's suits now stood in a line and waited.
"Tell her no," Rebecca hissed.
"We're not policing anyone else's guest list."
"You said to let Chambers manage her."
"This is how Chambers wants to manage her."
What was that man thinking? He wasn't usually this stupi—
"Behemoth sighted," Dragon announced over the speakers.
Everyone moved. Capes started rising into the air. Troopers and emergency personnel started getting up from their seats. Camera crews began pulling back.
"The target is Seoul," the tinker continued. "I am contacting the CUI to offer assistance."
They would refuse. Everyone knew that. The Yangban would never accept the Protectorate's help, no matter the cost. All they were really doing was showing the flag, reminding everyone why they needed the Protectorate.
Looking out below a second time, Alexandria didn't try to count. It was rare for the full Protectorate to be in one place when an Endbringer was involved, but most battles didn't afford such a chance to see their number. Hundreds, easily. More if they included the Wards.
They stood, ready and waiting for a message, most knew, likely wouldn't come.
Rebecca didn't have to wonder though. They'd jump if it did. They were heroes.
"What's that?"
She looked at Hero and then followed his confused gaze to the other mountaintop.
Newtype's weapon snapped.
Legend was already in motion as Rebecca watched a tree tear itself free behind the girl's machine. The air whined and she could only barely catch sight of the projectile as it cut toward the horizon. The wind that followed blew a breeze through the valley. Not enough to destroy or damage anything, but it toppled some boxes and ruffled some capes.
The air crashed back down in its wake, blowing through the valley.
"What is she doing?!" Alexandria snapped.
Was she trying to start a war?
"Newtype is reporting an equipment malfunction," Dragon reported. "One moment."
Unlikely. She fired in the exact direction of—Malfunction?
If Rebecca weren't a natural stoic, she'd have gawked.
Was the child that petty? After the incident in Boston, Rebecca was given to thinking the girl could see the bigger picture. Whatever their difference may be, she wasn't a brat lashing out. She thought differently. Fine. So be it, but using such a transparently false excu—
Rebecca narrowed her gaze.
At the top of the mountain, the girl stepped out of her suit and spoke to Legend. The crowded capes below watched quietly, or returned to waiting. Personnel around medical and supply tents started retrieving items knocked aside by the weapon's firing. She'd marvel at the weapon's power in other circumstances. The closest comparison was String Theory's F-Driver.
But what drew her eye and attention was Bakuda.
The tinker sat on a crate by Chariot. The boy held a tablet of some kind and both watched the screen intently, ignoring the chaos around them. Thinking back to Bakuda's arrival, she'd moved so casually… She wasn't planning to fight.
Celestial Being knew Behemoth would appear in Seoul rather than Tsushima.
The projectile was rounded at the tip. What was she—
Rebecca started to move, but Michael put an arm around her shoulder. He didn't stop her of course. She was Alexandria and Hero's armor wasn't that strong. It still shocked her and she stopped of her own accord.
"We've done everything we thought we could do," he whispered, loud enough that Reed turned his head behind them. "All we can do now, is get out of the way."
Becca started to protest, but it died in her throat.
…
Everything she tried to hold onto was slipping away. Decisions were now made without her input. Policy directed independent of her influence. Even David. What was David doing? She couldn't even begin to ponder that question or the back and forth arguments between Kieth and Michael over how to respond. She wanted to object but she found herself unable to. Teacher knew her every move before she made it, as if he knew her as well as herself. David wasn't that person but if he was...
And they would have to respond. The three of them. No one else. They owed him that.
Yet, she found herself lamenting. There was just too much and too little time. She couldn't even begin to think of everything left undone.
"It's over."
She didn't mean to sound so dramatic.
Things were hardly over. The Protectorate would survive. Even if she had to act from the sidelines, she'd do whatever it took to ensure that. Maybe its name would change, or its orders, or its leaders. Those petty visceral details didn't matter.
The Protectorate was more than a name.
It was a spirit. A hope. A promise. The belief that those with power could make things better.
She wouldn't let that die, no matter the sacrifice. Newtype was a question mark she didn't trust, and David…. Damnit David.
"It's not over," Michael soothed, his hand moving from her shoulder to the side of her head. "It's just starting."
He looked to those below, watching Rime and Eidolon fly back and forth and assemble teams for a battle they'd never join.
Ever the optimist.
With a sigh, Rebecca allowed the façade to collapse long enough to lean into him. That drew a few curious looks from those gathered below, but what did it matter? Those old enough would know they used to be an item. Time and responsibility got in the way.
Maybe they could pick that back up now?
It was a pleasant thought.
