A Side D
David walked the room.
It was strange. He couldn't quite remember when he moved in. Six years ago at least.
The space lay barren and empty. What meager possessions he held were all packed up and ready to leave. It hadn't taken long. He held few attachments and only a few items he valued personally.
Yet, it was home and everything home entailed. He knew his neighbors, his landlord. He even had a day job and went to potlucks. He watched TV most nights. Game of Thrones was great entertainment. The past few years had been pleasant.
Maybe that's why he hated it so much.
Malta was a simple place. There were a fair number of villains but their interests were mostly in the financial sector or vacationing. The island was a piece of calm in the world and the people here didn't question it. It's easy to be complacent in comfort, and that was why it was hard. People didn't care how broken anything was, so long as it didn't affect them.
Turning to the stripped bed, David flipped the last suitcase closed.
Reaching for the Well, he dropped the case into the pocket space with the rest of his worldly possessions. It was a strange sensation. He'd minimized how much he used his power for so long. He clung to his powers for dear life no matter how the Well fought him.
He simply couldn't risk letting go of what he had and losing them forever.
'Well' might not be the best term. Channel would fit better, but Well had a better mystique and it's not like the word he used in his head mattered much.
Well also made it easier to ignore the baleful crying that echoed across the connection and pretend it wasn't something that existed in real time.
Dealing with it all—the constant static and the mental strain of clinging to a power—was exhausting and the boosters helped less and less. He slipped on his teleport power several times and needed to coax the Well into providing another that worked—it would be simpler if he could simply get the power he wanted—but he'd managed.
He endured. He'd been standing on a million lives for twelve years. He would go a bit longer and push the world forward. He hoped he hadn't waited too long.
Closing his eyes, David reached for his second power and felt the air wobble around him.
As soon as he stepped out of the 'no-space' he let the power slip away.
It was like a thousand pounds finally leaving his shoulders. He breathed for what felt like the first time in ages. It was tempting to let the other go too, but he needed it for a bit longer.
"You could knock."
Behind him, Leet—who still didn't want to be called by any name David could think of—hunched over his latest machine.
David looked it over quickly.
It stood tall. Eleven or so feet. The armor was a light red, and underneath the armor the frame held an oddly faint red hue to it. The head was a bit flat and long with a wide visor and a single lens set into it. Two large thrusters jutted out from the back, matched by a pair on each leg.
The design reminded him of a video game character from his college days. Shamus or something like that. He really was getting old.
"It's almost done," David noted. Set in a rigging nearby, a large pack with additional thrusters and weapons hung suspended over the floor. Rifles and cannons. "You've been busy."
"I needed to do a lot of testing." Leet rose up and grabbed a cloth from the rack beside him. He wiped grease, and something that wasn't grease, from his fingers. "It'll take a few more days."
David smirked. "It's well made. Hero would be jealous."
Leet grunted in response and continued working.
"I'm sorry for intruding," he offered, hoping for better than a grunt. The surrounding room was the same he'd seen before. An old maintenance shed with tin roofing and walls. "It's convenient to do everything here."
"We're ditching this dump anyway."
Glancing over his shoulder, David acknowledged the curvy blonde laying on the couch behind him. The woman glared at him disdainfully. She wasn't a fan and he couldn't really blame her.
"Time to move on," Squealer continued. "Lot of that going around today, apparently."
True enough.
"Feel free to join us if you wish." He turned his attention back to Leet. "Or don't. It's still your choice."
The tinker said nothing and David turned to the door. Maybe if they moved out he could move in for a few days. Finding a new apartment was always an unpleasant experience when doing it out of a hotel.
"Last door on the left," Squealer called. "And let the door hit you on the way out."
"A pleasure as always, Shirley."
"Oh wow, you got my name wrong on purpose. I guess I should call you a dick or something, asshole."
David presumed there was probably something there that explained why he was still single.
Well, small blessings.
Reaching again, David cast his senses across leagues to Krouse's cell. Swapping one memory for another was a simple trick now, one he'd mastered—terrible pun, he regretted it instantly—long ago. It was a handy trick, especially with thinkers.
It was rough making use of Coil now that he was in prison but the news was the news and he could still watch that. It provided some useful information. Which heroes might show up where. How the public might immediately react to this or that.
At the end of the day, Francis was just one of the dozens of thinkers David could consult.
A shame he'd needed to let Thomas go. He might have been useful today.
Shifting through Francis' memory of the last few splits, David gave himself a mental nod and swapped the memories back. Of course, his memory of looking through Krouse's memories remained. It could be a strange sensation, remembering something he'd forgotten. But David was used to it and powers were often weird when one peeked behind them.
Francis perceived his power as putting himself in two places at once. It didn't work that way, of course, but it emphasized to David that how a power seemed to work wasn't always how it actually worked. Can't have the rats figuring out the maze.
In his mind, David felt a gap form in his evening last night. He didn't know what he'd been doing, only that he no longer remembered. Yet, he clearly remembered thinking about where Francis was at that time. He sat in a common area and watched the news. In one timeline, Arbiter exposed several members of the PRT aware of Rebecca's game of musical identities. In the other, Arbiter didn't.
Francis of course kept the reality where that didn't happen.
It was the best way to use his power. Multiple blind runs over and over provided the best results, the most useful and varied body of information. David combined it with his other sources.
Interpreting Arbiter's power was always a crapshoot. She had a better feel for it but not good enough to be relied on fully. In this case, David decided she was probably right.
Thinking to himself that they should refrain from that course of action, David swapped his memory of the second it took to think that thought with a random memory of Arbiter sitting at home with her cat.
Swapping memories back and forth, it was easy enough to carry on an effective conversation.
When he swapped memories again, he brought with them Helen's thoughts on things.
I told you Banks was unstable.
You were right, he thought. We won't do it then. The collateral damage isn't worth the gain.
Then he swapped that memory with Helen's. He remembered having a second breakfast in an entirely different apartment. He let it sit for a moment and then changed the memories back, returning what he'd taken and retrieving what he'd given up, along with Helen's immediate thoughts on it.
Let me go after the directors like I suggested, she'd thought. Banks and Karn need to go but we can do it in a way that won't make them explode.
David didn't see the point, thought as such, and sent her the memory of that thought.
The PRT is finished. It's time to let it go. Banks and Karn don't matter any more than Seneca or Armstrong now.
They're corrupt.
Hate came with the words. Of course it did. The mind was not so simple. Every thought came with baggage. Images. Past feelings. It couldn't be avoided or left behind.
He tried to assuage her before she did anything reckless. Her response was a brief and seething one.
Simply ending the PRT isn't why I agreed to this. I want whatever comes next to be better. People need to understand how badly the PRT failed.
They do, David promised, we're not in this for vengeance, Helen.
Maybe we should be.
David took a deep breath.
It was his fault. He'd approached Helen because she was close to Rebecca and had principles—principles Rebecca took advantage of. It took time for him to notice the bleeding effect the power had on her. He thought it would allow them to communicate without ever being seen together. That would protect them both.
It took years for him to notice Helen was growing angry, bitter, hard. She was thinking more and more like him. He recognized his own anger and bitterness—his drive—more and more in the young woman. It colored her, brought to her mind things she'd never think otherwise.
Maybe it was about time to end their connection. When he severed his power, his consultants—he found that an easier word to swallow—tended to revert to who they were. He needed to jumble their memories to protect things, but they'd go back to their lives eventually.
Don't do anything brash, he thought warily. He immediately thought of Thomas and his petty lust for power. The man certainly didn't get that from David. What comes next will be better, because we're going to make it better.
He sent the memory of the thought and continued down the hall.
Part of David found it amusing he'd managed to work his way around to telepathy, or at least the closest thing to it. Manton would have gotten a kick out of it if he were still around to know about it.
He consulted a dozen other thinkers connected with his power. Some of them gained his memories of Krouse's power, and Arbiter's thoughts. They analyzed his memories with their powers. David got those memories back and with it all, he pondered.
His own little think tank.
Frankly, he'd never have gotten this far without them. David knew he wasn't a particularly intelligent man. Not that they were infallible. Thomas let his personal ambition get the better of him. David couldn't say he felt particularly bad about it. In a way, releasing Thomas from their arrangement had felt like a good scrubbing. The man was ugly on the inside.
Unfortunately, finding people of principle was difficult. Finding those whose eyes were unclouded was harder still.
Walking down the hall, David pushed open the last door on the left. It was already ajar, and the sound of voices filtered through.
As he stepped through, the talking stopped.
Indeed, he was not an intelligent man.
But he had resolve.
David stepped forward, meeting the curious eyes in the room. They numbered about twenty, plus three. Independents. Members of the Protectorate. Corporate teams. Wards. Heroes and some villains. Rogues.
David knew most of them, even if only in passing. Theirs was a special breed; good people confronted with the true trials of the world. The ugly truth of it. The kind of people who might receive what he had to say and understand.
Everything needed to start somewhere.
The hangar they occupied was small and decrepit even with the work Leet and Squealer did with it. Squealer's vehicles lined one wall. A trio of cars—a classic Charger, a more modern Civic, and an El Camino—and a truck large enough to carry Leet's suit. She must be confident to leave them here with so many visiting strangers.
Looking over the waiting faces, David pushed his hands into his pockets and breathed.
"Well then," David called. "I suppose we're all here." Looking at a few faces, he saw some he hadn't expected. "And more, it seems."
The girl stood out and not just because she stood over the others. Her shoulders were broad and her back slightly hunched. Her skin was mottled and rough, like scar tissue. David knew her. Gully. She'd been one of Rebecca's Wards.
Two other Case-53s were with her, a tall and thin boy with dark blue skin whose arms were twisted into misshapen wings, and a girl with green skin, vines for hair, and a serpentine body from the stomach down. Them, he didn't know.
There were others he hadn't expected to come. Through his network of contacts, he'd reached out to many capes hoping to gather enough. Enough for a start. He'd spoken to many of them before and mostly convinced them.
This was the day to drop the masks though and tell the truth. A version of it at least.
"You're him, then?" Accord sat off to the side, flanked by two men in suits and masquerade masks. "You're Teacher?"
David scowled at the name. "I've never called myself that." He wanted to apologize to Fortuna for hurting her, but she made it hard. "I'm surprised you're here, Accord. Last I knew you were backing the Triumvirate and Cauldron, or what was left of it."
Heads turned the thinker's way. Several in the room were unsurprised by the name 'Teacher.' Others were confused or shocked. Accord maintained his composure well as scrutiny turned his way, showing not even a single sign of being fazed.
A quick exchange with Arbiter was able to confirm the obvious. Calliope, a thinker from Nashville, confirmed his other suspicion. Accord didn't care what others thought. He had absolute confidence in himself, and certainty that he was always right.
The downside of being intelligent. The intelligent always overestimated themselves.
"It's become rather clear the Triumvirate has lost," Accord proposed. "They're no longer in a position to stop you, and they can no longer supply me with any reason to aid them. I'm not a charity."
David gave the man a long once-over and then he sent the memory around his think tank. "You underestimate them. They haven't done as much as they have by being easily dissuaded."
The compliment filled the silence. David swapped the memories back and agreed with the assessment the thinkers gave him.
He wants vials.
David agreed.
Accord relied on the Triumvirate for his muscle. He needed vials. It made sense in abstract. After the Boston Games, something needed to be done. Accord was arrogant but stabilizing as an influence. He could help keep the Teeth in check and block the Empire Eighty-Eight from expanding north. Giving him vials to shore up his ranks made sense.
Rebecca, Michael, and Kieth couldn't have any vials left. Frankly, David didn't have many either, and what few remained he needed for something better than aiding Accord. There were alternatives Accord might accept though. They were in a room filled with disillusioned capes after all, and someone would need to hold Boston down when the coffin dropped into the grave.
David breathed again.
He'd avoided overtly thinking about it for a long time. He helped build the Protectorate and the PRT. He knew many of the current Directors and team leaders quite well. They'd all been up and coming when the organization was founded on some level or another. Many of them had done their best.
Their best simply wasn't good enough.
"You're not wrong." Though, not for the reasons David expected. "There's no coming back from Hartford. That's why I've asked you all to come. Some of you know my thoughts on things and some of you do not. I think the rest of you know how bad it's going to get. Now is the time to choose."
"Choose what?" a caped figure floating just an inch over the ground asked. "I don't know you. If you're that Teacher guy—"
Gully glared at him. "Did you make Hartford happen?"
David tilted his head and raised his brow. "It's easier to do what I need to do if I'm a ghost the PRT blames for all their failures. Why would I expose myself? If anything, I regret what happened at Hartford. I'd hoped to avoid having to fight my friends."
He didn't see that happening now.
David waited a moment, hoping the time it took to confer with the thinkers could be taken as contemplation or dramatic pause. He hadn't expected that to be the second question. It wasn't even in the top five.
Doesn't trust you, Arbiter informed him. Doesn't trust anyone.
Green, Appraiser suggested. A muted tone. Not dangerous, but not necessarily helpful either.
She has nowhere else to go, Calliope suggested.
None of their victims did. That was one sin David wasn't sure he could ever do anything about. Even if he had recovered Doctor Mother's notes from Madison, he probably wouldn't be able to figure them out. Reversing what they'd done to the Case-53s, what he'd allowed Alexandria and Hero to do, was no longer possible.
Another burden he'd have to carry to the end.
With a calm and even tone, David explained, "Case-66 was going to get out sooner or later. Façade became aware of my actions and those of the Triumvirate. I don't blame her for wanting something to be done about it."
"She accused you of plotting a war," Accord reminded. "And I'll note that Cauldron is of a similar opinion."
"The war is inevitable," David replied. "Those without power will always resent those with power, more so when power itself is enfranchised with no regard for morality or justice. Blue Cosmos isn't my doing. They're the consequence of parahumans, the resistance and reaction to change. Basic physics. What would you do about it? Kill every bigot in the world? Arrest people for association?"
They didn't know the answers. It was one thing to say bigots were bad, it was another to deal with them in a way that changed things. If anything, David used his influence and so-called 'pets' to keep Blue Cosmos from going completely off the deep end for as long as possible. That meant letting bad things happen or even doing them himself to keep a worse thing from happening.
Blue Cosmos was an inevitable flame. It needed to be allowed to burn. Even accelerated, burned away, and left in the past. It's not like a bunch of ragtag people with guns and tempers would ever stand a chance.
They were an unfortunate example that the world needed to come to terms with sooner rather than later.
"Hartford and Blue Cosmos' bigotry and violence," David began, "are just two examples of the tragedies that have happened and will continue to happen until something changes."
Around the room, a few heads nodded in agreement. Others looked more skeptical. It was more or less as he expected. Those convinced probably already thought in similar terms. It was why he sought them out and gathered them.
"I've done things I'm not proud of and I don't hide from that. I arranged the assassination of Marticus Peacecraft. I orchestrated the data leak from the PRT ENE that exposed hundreds of identities. It's my fault that fighting against the Fallen became such a mess."
David took a moment to let himself and them take that all in. He'd never come out and admitted it before. Explained his reasonings in full. He led them to the answers and implied but that was itself a problem.
"Most of these things I did because the alternatives were worse."
A few looks were exchanged and some whispers uttered. A few faces met him confidently. They understood. They knew. It was a start. Others, mostly the skeptical, reacted defensively. They didn't understand. Most people couldn't.
Peacecraft died because he preached a naive peace that would never work and he was destabilizing things faster than the warmongers. The PRT wasn't supposed to be violating the unwritten rules, not that the rules would survive the coming years. The corruption was the point. That, and the cost of the unwritten rules. They had to go. David hadn't meant for the fighting with the Fallen to get so bad. He'd underestimated Mama Mathers and the collateral damage…
Well, he was already standing on a million lives. What were a few hundred more? The deaths of millions truly was a statistic.
"Why?" one of the new faces asked.
"Why?" David asked back.
"I suppose you're about to tell us," Mantis grumbled, glaring. "What makes you the 'real' hero of the story? Get on with it."
The recently 'retired' heroine wasn't someone David expected to see. She seemed a bit too committed to the Protectorate. Though, she did come without any of her equipment; she was just in a trendy jacket and jeans. No doubt her lab was confiscated during Chevalier's—Ben's—warpath in the wake of Tagg being Tagg.
David expected he'd be blamed for that too, despite having nothing to do with it.
Suspicious of you, Arbiter's thoughts told him. Wants to spy on you, but can be convinced. She thinks the present system isn't working.
She had no reason to think otherwise. She was right. The system wasn't working. David suspected most people could see that. The problem was getting them to accept what came next.
"I had a different name before I was called Teacher." David opened his eyes and let the moment linger. "I am Eidolon." A few brows rose and even Accord leaned forward ever so slightly. That was something he'd told very few people. "And the answer to why is in the truth about Scion."
So he told them the truth.
The origins of the Entities, as best he understood them. Their nature as parasites. The danger they posed. The reasons parahumans had powers. What it meant for the world.
David skipped over many details.
Fortuna would die soon. All anyone needed to know was that there had been a thinker who killed the first Entity. The origins of Lalah Sune and her companions weren't something he had a good explanation for in the first place. Lalah was gone now and the other two both left after Scion died. Getting people to believe in aliens was hard enough. Explaining transhumans showing up to help fight them might be a bit much.
In that regard, one thing hadn't changed.
The weight continued to press down on his shoulders. There was ultimately something only he could do.
The speech was boring, to him at least. David said it so many times in his head and in quiet solitary explanations, he barely registered the words anymore. It did mean he could speak and not stumble over his words. He needed no 'um' or 'ah' to give his brain time to catch up to his mouth.
Instead, he registered the reactions.
Surprisingly, few of those listening disbelieved him. Parahumans tended to accept the story easily. On some level, they already knew. It just wasn't something they were ever meant to think about. Rats and mazes.
"Bullshit," someone said after he'd finished.
David ignored the voice and glanced toward a woman at the back of the room.
Now, please. David sent the memory of the thought to her.
"He's not lying," Calliope said on cue.
"He's not," another thinker agreed, one of the Case-53s. "But that doesn't mean he's not crazy."
Gully's reaction was of the more thoughtful variety, watching him carefully. Strange.
She already knew some of this, Arbiter revealed.
Strange. Slug's power had failed more than once in the early days, but he became more consistent with time. Cauldron never really needed to clean up any Case-53s because they'd remembered something they shouldn't.
"Accord knows." David looked to the thinker, glad he'd shown up. In a way, it made him useful even if he decided to stay on his present side. "You've been in league with the Triumvirate for years."
Heads turned and Accord maintained his pose.
"It's more or less the story I was told," he answered. "They never suspected you, you know. They thought you were their friend."
"I am their friend," David repeated. "Whatever we did, we did with the best of intentions." He looked to Gully and her peers. "We were saving the world from annihilation. In light of that, a great many things seemed…unimportant."
He thought back to those million lives. The tomb of glass, steel, and concrete left in their wake. They hadn't even questioned it at the time. What were a million lives in the face of total destruction? The sardonic side of him figured they were a statistic.
Scion had to be stopped, so they stopped him at any cost.
That was the problem. "And the price for that was a price we didn't pay." Capes had all the power in the world, and people always accepted the cost when they didn't have to pay it. That's why everything was breaking down. "A million people died in Manhattan and that wasn't even the beginning. It's not the end either. There will be more. These tragedies will happen again and again until something changes."
David raised his head and faced the room.
"My friends can't see that anymore. All they can see is that the world is falling apart, and they're trying to hold it together with their bare hands. Maybe someone needed to do that, but that time has passed. It's time to move forward now."
Someone needed to take real control, and humanity needed to advance out of its final dark age of wars, bigotry, and hate.
"This power… We will use it to destroy ourselves and the Earth." David smirked at the irony. "We averted one apocalypse only to doom ourselves to another and that's where I must depart from my friends."
In a solemn tone, David lamented, "If the world weren't broken, none of us would be where we are. The wars will continue. The hate will continue. The resentments that drive this cycle have to be confronted and redressed, or defeating Scion will mean nothing. We'll still be doomed. That's why you're here. Because on some level, none of you need me to tell you this. You already know."
He gave the gathered room a long look. "The world has changed. There is no going back." He narrowed his gaze and added, "We have to change with it. We need to advance."
"And what assurances do we have that it's not your master power or some other power behind that?"
David eyed Accord briefly.
"If you are the original Eidolon"—the thinker had returned to an impassive stance, simple and seemingly unassuming— "you would have the capacity to have multiple powers. They called you the most powerful parahuman in the world, after Scion. And I suppose you killed Scion."
"I can't claim credit for the Warrior's demise. At most, I was a distraction." Contessa ultimately deserved the credit, her and those three. Returning to the topic at hand and leaving the past in the past, David pointed out, "And you're here, so how afraid are you?"
Accord thought for a moment, deeply according to Calliope.
Weighing whether or not he'll have anything to take back to the Triumvirate, Arbiter warned when David consulted her. He's waiting to see where the chips will fall.
David didn't take it personally. It was natural and true of several members of his audience. That was fine. Contessa started the 'Teacher' thing to make this harder. If anything it was a laughable effort because it was never going to be easy.
"Maybe I've talked enough," David suggested. "I've said my piece. I'm sure all of you have your own reasons for being here."
It didn't surprise him that Gully jumped right in.
"Can you undo what you did to us?"
"No," he answered pithily. "I'm sorry. The person who might have known… She was working on it the last few years of her life. She's gone now. Admittedly, her death is partially my fault. It wasn't my intention, but those events were ones I set into motion. Perhaps we can rectify that if we can get the right tinkers and thinkers on board."
Gully scowled and whispered to her companions.
"How does your master power work?" Calliope asked at his prompting. "If you're not using it, you might as well tell us."
"If you mean the one I've been using in my guise as the man people call Teacher," David explained, "then I can. It's not that complicated a power. It's similar to the power of a Ward named Scapegoat."
"He's a healer," Mantis argued.
"There are no healing powers," David retorted. The Entities had no need for them. "Any power with healing has it as a consequence of its true use, not as a primary purpose."
Mantis raised her brow and crossed her arms. No doubt she wondered how he knew that. It wasn't much of a mystery. He might have claimed his powers lost and a need to retire, but he was still an experienced cape. His friends came to him for advice and for his opinion, sometimes just to vent. Between them and the thinkers, David knew most capes in the Protectorate on some level.
"In Scapegoat's case," David elaborated, "his power is the transference of physical states. The power I've been using is similar, except that it transfers memories between subjects."
"Like telepathy?" someone asked skeptically.
"There's no such thing as telepathy," David fully admitted. At least, not as a power. "Though I've found ways to rig this power to do something akin to it. The PRT is convinced I can give people powers, but I can't. Many of the so-called 'pets' I've worked with have no powers but they do have knowledge from thinkers and tinkers they otherwise wouldn't have."
"And you mastered them?" A harsh and angry glare accompanied Mantis' question.
"I can't control people," David clarified. "I'm not Heartbreaker. I can exchange memories, feelings, and experiences. I can't control people."
"That bends credulity," Accord accused.
"You'd be surprised how many people, especially within the PRT and the Protectorate, believe the system is broken and needs to change."
"You say the Protectorate wasn't working," Damocles snarled in fake anger and drew many eyes toward her. As was her part. Accord looked her way and stared for a long time. "But you're the one who made it that way. You sabotaged it."
The heads that looked her way now looked his.
"I'm hardly omnipresent. Every tragedy that transpires doesn't have my finger on it."
"The Protectorate was doomed to fail," Accord proposed. He tore his eyes away from Damocles. "In that, he isn't wrong. Trying to handle parahumans in a manner conducive to traditional law enforcement was a pipe dream. Deterrence and prevention aren't possible when any teenager can shoot lasers from their eyes after a bad day at school."
Trying to get on David's good side. That was a transparent ploy.
"If anyone needs that explained to them, they're an idiot." The woman in the hood was unfamiliar to him. Calliope identified her as Bad Apple. "The Protectorate can't even keep itself from making its own enemies."
Mantis flinched at that.
"Doesn't mean what he's doing is better," a young woman in a long black dress answered. The collar rose over her neck and covered the bottom half of her pale face, and long black hair rolled down her back. "Get to the point. The white hats are finished. What would you have all of us do?"
Thank you, Hyde.
"Costumed heroes were a pretty ideal," David answered. "They were comfortable and familiar. It let people go about their lives in peace. That gimmick has run its course. The masks will need to come off soon, and the problems our existence represents need to be tackled directly rather than danced around."
He looked over the room, meeting multiple sets of eyes.
"Capes cannot be allowed to keep doing as they please," he opined. "The PRT was obsessed with maintaining the peace, but the peace was false. Now the war is coming and there must be a reckoning or it will happen again and again and again."
It came to him again. They didn't even scream. There wasn't time. Light smashed the buildings, and people died. Scion fought back, and people died. They tore their way into his realm, to his core, and a city died.
Lalah tried to warn them.
"Were you behind Dragon's death?"
David narrowed his gaze and glanced over his shoulder.
The door opened with a creak, and Leet stepped through it. The tinker's eyes met his with the same suspicion and anger as Gully.
"No," he replied truthfully. Though he had a very strong idea who was behind it. "I had no foreknowledge of that event. It's unfortunate. Dragon was a genuinely good person."
"For a machine," someone grumbled.
David didn't see how it mattered. Dragon was truly good. Of course, she was one of the good ones he'd never had to worry about hurting. Her restrictions would have prevented her from getting in the way.
"It sure seemed to speed up your plan to bring down the Protectorate," Mantis accused. "That mess in Brockton Bay wasn't like the Director. He's hard, but he's not an idiot. Jumping on Newtype like that and siccing Glint on Laughter…"
"The PRT and the Protectorate were always going to fail," David insisted. "The Director making a bad call in the heat of the moment isn't even the worst thing that's happened." Pretty low on the list really. "It wasn't me."
Glancing over the room and assessing the faces, David let the thinkers work. He'd been buying time with talk. As the memories moved back and forth and advice came with it, David was grateful. Talking to groups was Kieth's thing.
"You don't need me to tell you this," David noted. "You've all seen it for yourselves, experienced it. The corruption in the system. The complacency. The preference for calm over justice. The quiet breaking of the unwritten rules with no regard for the consequences. Corruption at the highest levels. Incompetence and heroes who are unworthy of the title."
He had to make do. Kieth wasn't here right now.
"We turn blind eyes to the realities beyond our own walls. We don't mean to. The world is too big. It's easy to never think about what is happening as long as it doesn't affect us. I want all of you to help me wake people to that reality and start solving the problems out there. When the PRT is dissolved the Protectorate will end. We will need to step up to prevent things from getting any worse, and then we'll start fixing things."
David watched the room, assessing reactions and memorizing expressions. He sent them out and drew them back, quickly finding who he could convince and who he…couldn't.
"It needs good people to step up and take responsibility for the future." He turned his gaze on Accord. "That's what heroes do. Real heroes. Titans who set their own needs aside, even their comfort and self-respect, for the world. That's why you're here. Because most of you don't need me to tell you this." He glanced toward Mantis, and then to Gully. "You already know."
A silence came over the room, though it didn't last long.
"You've said your piece," Accord declared. "Perhaps we should all recess and consider. There have been quite a few revelations in the past twenty minutes."
"Of course." David faced the hangar again. "I'm not going anywhere."
With that, some capes wandered off. Others started talking. Some watched him from a safe distance. Calliope and Damocles filtered into the crowds, keeping an eye on things and watching. David would regret dealing with any problems this early but… What needed to be done would be done.
"You're manipulating them," Leet stated in a low tone.
"You certainly waited for everyone else to be out of earshot to make that accusation."
"You never actually answered the question about how you use your power. Damocles changed the subject." Leet narrowed his gaze. "She's one of your pets."
David resisted the urge to scowl. "I truly hate that word." They were people, not pets. Doing what needed to be done didn't change that fact.
Leet remained standing in front of the door. "Answer the question."
David sighed. "Which part?"
"The part where you use it to make people do things."
"I didn't lie. I can't make people do things. I remove what inhibits them from doing what they know is right." Elaborating, David explained, "People fear losing their jobs. Losing respect. being shamed or punished. The world pushes us away from doing the right thing in a thousand ways. It takes resolve to fight through that, and I give it to them."
"You transfer their inhibitions to another pet and replace them with something else." Leet tilted his head and parted his lips. "You put some of yourself into them. Give them that certainty that what you're doing is what has to be done."
"Because it does have to be done. Left to themselves, I have no doubt Alexandria, Hero, and Legend could have kept the Protectorate and the PRT going for decades. We don't have that kind of time." He didn't have that kind of time. "Every day that passes is another disaster. More deaths." More of his power slipping away.
"You're killing people," Leet accused, "and you're moralizing it."
"If I do nothing, people still die." David glanced over his shoulder. "What is the difference between letting a festering wound continue to fester, and cutting it clean?"
Leet scoffed. "That's a platitude."
"The difference is that a festering wound rots and infects the whole body. Cutting it away is painful, but it heals. Eventually."
"Is that how you sleep at night?"
"I don't sleep." David harbored no delusions. He'd done great and terrible things. One day he'd answer for them. "Not yet, anyway."
Leet didn't roll his eyes. He looked past David, watching the room. "And with all of those you've 'persuaded,' why would you need them?"
"No one can change the world alone," David answered quickly. "Cauldron tried. Maybe we needed to go it alone against Scion, but the problem is different now. I'm not out to control the world. I want to advance it."
"So you've said. That doesn't answer the question."
Appraiser's appraisal was blunt. Not even a color. He wants to kill you.
David already knew. "Evolution is long and painful. I can't bring it about on my own, and there will be a point where people will have to choose."
Leet raised his brow.
"What?" David urged him. "Say it."
"Just amused by a master advocating free will."
"I'm not Heartbreaker," David repeated. "People will have to choose for themselves. It starts here."
"With gaslighting."
"Pushing things along in the right direction."
"I'm still wondering about Dragon."
Interesting change of subject. "I had nothing to do with Dragon."
"But you know who did." Leet tilted his head and in a whisper said, "The Simurgh."
David rose up ever so slightly. He kept his face placid and his hands at his side. The Well was changing, offering a new series of powers to him. He fought against one. He needed to hang on to the master power for a little while longer.
"Why would you think it's the Simurgh?" David inquired.
"Zero," the boy replied. That machine of his? That was interesting. Very interesting. "You can control it, can't you?"
David pondered his response. He checked with Calliope and Arbiter and Appraiser and Conch and Lyre. He swapped memories back and forth between them, letting each thinker ponder for themselves.
"Control it?" David finally answered. "No. I can't control it. At most, what I can do is direct it."
"Another one of those things that is inevitable and you do nothing about?"
"It's a contingency," David explained. "A fail-safe in case the Entities become…unavailable. The nature of my shard, in particular, ties me to it."
"Because your power is from a vial?"
"Because my power is no power at all." That was the big secret. His power wasn't powerful, it was just broken. "My shard is constantly shifting its configuration as the situation around me changes. It doesn't know how to stop."
Leet looked past him. "That part of being a vial cape?"
Zero was telling him a lot, it seemed. David nodded over his shoulder. "About a quarter of them have their powers from vials. Functionally, they're no different than any natural trigger. I'm an odd case."
It was a minor irony, David thought. The kind of people Cauldron sought out and who sought them out were the kinds of people who would trigger if they could. Normal people didn't go chasing rumors about powers from bottles. They didn't accept such outlandish things as superpowers for favors.
"You're constantly connected to the network," Leet surmised. "With minimal restrictions."
Zero was definitely telling him a lot. "They have a hierarchy and roles that fall under their purview. The Simurgh and the other Endbringers may have been part of mine's duties."
"But you can't control them?"
"At best, I can hold them back from doing their worst." David pondered again, but… Well. "They follow me, on some level. I'm not sure how much. It's not like I issue orders."
Powers didn't always do what they seemed to do. On the surface, one might seem to exchange memories between a 'master' and someone he's touched and remained connected to. On a deeper level—hidden in the noise of an unending wail—there was something else at work.
An unwitting exchange of priorities.
"An agenda that includes destroying Sweden?" Leet inquired.
David slowly turned his head and looked the tinker in the eye. Leet kept his gaze level and calm. Confidence radiated from him.
"That was a mistake," David admitted. "I thought… I thought an old friend was moving against me. The Simurgh knows what I know. She took my worries as direction. That, or she wants me to think she acts in accordance with my will to break me."
"Madison," Leet suggested.
"The Simurgh is running its own agenda and I don't trust it." It was easier when he thought it was just a machine he could vaguely direct. That clearly wasn't the case. The Simurgh had a will of its own. One it had spent years hiding from him. "It'll need to be dealt with sooner rather than later."
The boy looked at him incredulously. "And you want my help?"
"If I could do it myself, I would have by now."
Leet turned thoughtful for a moment. "Dragon," he whispered. "The Simurgh wanted to kill Dragon."
That wouldn't surprise David. "Taking out the biggest names is something she'd do."
"The Bratva have been forced out of New York," Leet commented. "In Denver, an entire cell of the Elite has collapsed into in-fighting. The Internationals are smashing Gessellschaft like they have a Prima strategy guide to the entire organization. There's even some weird stuff going on in India's cape scene."
David raised his brow. Some of those were news to him.
"It's Veda," Leet revealed. "She's destabilizing large organized villain groups. She has Dragon's entire system behind her, on top of whatever Newtpye had already made."
"And that relates to Dragon," David queried.
"Dragon had standing. Reputation. Trust. Veda has none. She has to tread carefully to avoid terrifying the world."
Then the Simurgh killed Dragon to put Newtype's AI into a weaker position than it would otherwise be… Ah. Newtype and that little group she'd made with Samuel's grandson. Londo Bell.
The Simurgh was gathering targets to a banner. Interesting.
Glancing back at Leet, David was reminded of Michael in a lot of ways. Leet resembled a younger Hero. Focused. Driven. Brilliant. In some ways, David was glad Hero had softened over the years. He didn't need to be involved in what came next… Though he would be. Michael lived up to his cape name.
"You've woken up, nameless tinker." David offered a small smile. "You hate me, but you know I'm right. Hate me. I deserve it. You know what's more important."
Leet scowled.
Yes. He knew. "And that's why I do what I do. Because people don't care until it affects them. To change the world, the veil needs to be stripped away."
Leet stared and David's next series of exchanges came with warnings. Red from Appraiser. Warning from Calliope and Alarm. Arbiter gave it in the bluntest terms.
He wants revenge for his friend. He's going to kill you.
David already knew.
In the reflection of a steel sheet leaning against the wall, David saw a signal. Damocles was near a back door, hand behind her head and stretching. The door itself was ajar.
"One moment."
Leet shuffled out of his way quickly and David reached into the well as he passed into the hall and out of sight. The Well's cries filled him and David pushed through the noise. He took hold of the offered power and instantly broke into a run. Doors and windows vanished behind him. He crossed the long hallway in the blink of an eye, throwing the door open and zipping past Squealer as she grumbled.
Exiting the building through a back door, David swung himself around the corner and in one quick motion drove his hand into her back.
Mantis' phone clattered to the ground, chin dropping until her eyes saw his hand piercing her. Blood clung to his fingertips and bone stuck at his flesh. Her pulse tapped against his wrist, radiating up his arm.
He glanced down at the phone and noted Ben's number minus its last digit. Chevalier. Calliope quickly confirmed the new Protectorate leader probably didn't know where Mantis was or what she was doing. Good. David didn't want to hurt someone he'd helped raise. Ben wasn't a bad person.
She wheezed around his arm.
David ran again, pulling her with him and into the woods overlooking the old airfield. He threw her free violently and let Mantis fall forward. The woman caught herself. In a testament to sheer will, she spun on him.
A blade shot from a device hidden in her sleeve, aiming for his eye. David held his ground passively. The tip slid over the iris and he swung his bloodied hand up. The arm spun through the air and landed with a thump.
Mantis fell back, spitting blood again as she crumbled onto a bed of pine needles.
"I'm sorry," he offered. David sat atop a fallen tree and watched. It wouldn't do to look away. "It's not personal, for whatever little that is worth."
Watching her bleed out, the emotions running through his mind were familiar. Pity, because she wasn't a villain of any sort. She didn't deserve it, but letting her interfere would only bring more deaths later. Anger, because she simply refused to see the truth. Resentment, that she could blissfully die knowing she'd tried to do the right thing.
The look on her face was the same. A thousand silent questions filled her eyes and quivering lips but jumbled in a way that none stood out in particular. It was the same look on Fortuna's face when he tried to kill her.
He'd sit with her too when those wounds finally caught up to her. He owned her that much… She was his friend.
The memories brought the noise to the forefront of his mind. His power's crying, like static scraping against his skull. He'd grown used to it over the years, but it never ceased to be agitating. Very agitating.
The question filtered in as he continued swapping memories back and forth between Hyde, Calliope, and Damocles. They were still in the hangar, watching and listening. David would probably have to kill a few more of the capes inside before the day was done, but he might be able to convince more than he'd originally hoped. That was good news, but the confusion came with it.
Why? they asked as another series of memories went back and forth.
Why what? David sent out.
He's going to kill you, and you're not going to stop him.
Looking back, it was clear to him. As clear as anything. The complacency of comfort and life weren't just the domain of normal people. It affected capes too, except capes could explode. They were meant to explode. That's why the Entities picked broken people for powers. Easier to generate conflict that way.
They tried to avoid that in Cauldron, and David realized only after that they'd been complacent all the same.
"The most powerful force in the world is the human soul on fire," David mused. It was something Rebecca said a long time ago. It was a quote from some General during the second world war. It came to him often the past few years. "But the human soul isn't on fire. The only flame is the world burning down around us while we serve as kindling."
Stopping Scion didn't stop the Entities. The Simurgh would try to keep the cycle going. It was her function. The shards themselves wanted it to keep going. It was all they knew. The absence of a core offered a single chance to stop them.
Cauldron relied too much on Contessa. As much as David regretted hurting her, he had to. The Entities only knew how to consume, and she'd been too immersed in her shard to realize it. Those dissonant voices would have taken Fortuna and then the world would be doomed. Thankfully, she seemed either incapable of trying again or knew better.
Yes, they'd been complacent. He couldn't afford it. The world couldn't afford it.
The others couldn't understand. "We've come too far to stop now. Too many are dead to let things keep going as they are."
He had to stop it. There was no other choice. He doubted Mantis would appreciate that as she died but it was something. Something she could ponder when she joined her shard. She'd have plenty of time to scream at him for what he'd done when he did the same.
"We're kindling to them." David glanced down at Mantis. The blood pooled around her slowly, soaking into the needle-covered earth. "Not even kindling. We've never even lived in their eyes. They'll never see us as anything but dust on the cosmic shoe."
He could see in her eyes she didn't accept that. She was like many parahumans, convinced the power she wielded was solely hers. Arrogance. It was the greatest human failing, along with a lust for power, money, and fame. Conflict.
"We're perfect in a way. We love to fight. With our words. With our fists. It comes naturally to us."
They were weak. He was weak. He was getting weaker. The Well kept growing more distant. The cries were softer. It wasn't just time. Hero's 'Dead Agent' problem made sense. His power couldn't sort itself out. That made Eidolon powerful, maybe the most powerful parahuman in the world.
But his power was draining fast.
It's important to be challenged, David thought.
He sent that thought out to the others. He didn't know if they could fully understand. He could exchange memories, yes, but he couldn't exchange his entire life's experience. If he could, he might not need to resort to these ends. He couldn't fully explain what he'd experienced.
Contessa hadn't heard the voices as he had. She'd tried to talk to them. To make them listen.
They didn't want to listen. His power was broken, and that's the only way he knew. He'd seen what they really were. What they truly were. The Entities weren't bloodthirsty, exactly. They didn't revel in suffering. They didn't recognize suffering at all.
They only saw the chance to improve themselves. To advance. To become more.
"We have to become more to survive," David whispered. "We have to burn, and we're out of time to do it. I'm running out of time." In a shallow voice, he admitted the last truth. "My powers are slipping. Biding my time all these years has hardly helped at all."
The Entities didn't know anything but conflict. It was the only power they recognized, and David was losing his. It was only when his life was in danger that he could feel the Well grow closer, feel his power trying to hold on a little longer. It did have a will of its own.
They all did, and the longer they went without a core the more they would break. The more their drive for conflict and evolution would be wild and chaotic. They'd destroy themselves eventually, probably after humanity had already been reduced to nothing.
Someone needed to take control, before the Network lost all sense of the word and destroyed everything. Someone needed to push humanity, ignite the sleeping flame. Two birds and one stone to save the world.
"You burned bright, Mantis," David offered as he met her eyes. He managed what he hoped was better than a condescending smile. "What you thought was right. It's all anyone can do. You were a hero to the end." With a long and deep breath, David solemnly accepted, "You won't be the last."
That's why Lalah stayed.
No one was ready, and no one person should decide the fate of the entire world. It wasn't just about what was right. If people didn't choose to change, then they never would. A choice had to be made and it wouldn't be a choice if no one tried to stop him.
Ironically, they would have to fight for the future. Much like Blue Cosmos, that too was inevitable. He couldn't master the whole world. So they'd fight.
The last breath left Mantis' lungs with a wheeze and her pale skin started to chill. The blood continued to run.
David repeated his apology, and he expected he'd have to do it again and again.
David. The thoughts that came back to him were chiding. Don't do this.
Rising from his trunk, David knelt and closed Mantis' eyes.
I need to enter the network anyway. It's something only I can do.
His shard had been tied into the Warrior's network ever since that day. The constant cries were always in the back of his mind. Their odd little song. He knew where it led and he could follow it. He had a path back to the core and he could deal with the entities.
Ironically, David thought Leet a perfect candidate to carry things on once he'd gone.
Without Lalah and with Fortuna close to death, I need someone to keep me on my toes. Leet can pursue his revenge.
David sent the thoughts out, along with a very firm sense that he would not be moved.
He was resolved.
It was ironic in a way. A million people die, and the world thinks it can hold back the hands of time. Leet loses one friend, and he sets himself to murder everyone even remotely involved. He needed it, even if he didn't accept it. Leet proved the point.
People could only change when they were pushed out of their complacency.
David looked down at the corpse and bowed his head.
He couldn't advance as Lalah, Amuro, and Char had but the world could. They could become more than they were, and they had to. They'd never survive if they didn't. But the world did not change easily or overnight. It would be the work of generations. If the Entities were not brought to heel, they might die before the opportunity came.
There was no time for moralizing.
The world needed an icon to carry it forward. When he built that eidolon to stand in his wake, Leet could have his revenge. Assuming no one beat the tinker to it. David would go into the network and deal with the Entities, taking all the sins of changing the world with him.
A spark to ignite the sleeping flame, before his own burned out. Because he would burn out. That was fine. The world could only change when pushed beyond its walls, its boundaries. When people looked past their complacency. They could be more and they would be.
David would push them to change.
David could make that sacrifice, even if no one thanked him for it. They wouldn't have to. He needed no recognition.
To give of themselves for others.
That's what heroes do.
