"You know that I ran my rats through the whole building," he said. "Just in case I needed to see or hear anything." He walked between the guards, with the Director behind. "And I heard you talking, you know. The whole time I was up there coordinating the defense, I heard you and your managers discussing that I would not be allowed to come out of this as a hero, no matter what."

She smirked. "Is that what you heard? I'm pretty sure you just heard us discussing that a dirty bomb went off in an urban environment, and that makes you a terrorist who has used weapons of mass destruction against your own nation. That will get you sentenced to Baumann for certain," she said. "Unless you fight back or run. Then you get killed trying to escape."

"But this is an Endbringer defense," he pointed out. "All differences are put aside, and all options are on the table during Endbringer events. It's the Endbringer Truce. You can't prosecute me for anything right now, especially since literally nobody knew that Endbringers have a nuclear failsafe."

"The Endbringer Truce is for capes," she shot back. "I'm not a cape."

He turned to look over his shoulder at the shorter woman. "Seriously? We've had our differences, but now you're looking to kill me after I just coordinated the most effective Endbringer defense ever?" His face registered the naked surprise he felt.

"Careful, you might accidentally resist," she sneered, and prodded him to keep walking.

He shook his head. "You really think it's more important to assert your authority than it is to defeat the Endbringers. Amazing." He mentally counted how many times he had threatened her authority and position. If he had badly underestimated how much that affected her

"Endbringers only come around every few months, and only one city at a time," Piggot snapped. "But humans have to worry about you every day, in every city, blending into every crowd, attacking with no warnings. If an Endbringer attacks, it might wreck enough of a city that people have to move elsewhere. But when I assert my authority, human authority, over you capes, that's about the survival of the species. Because if you wannabe gods are allowed to take power, unpowered humans become a slave race, second-class citizens."

"Oh, come on, we're the heroes," Wharf Rat said.

"Heroes, villains, if you get a chance at power there's no difference," Piggot said. "Every one of you is unstable because of your trigger events, and -"

"Tagg to Director Piggot!" burst a voice through the intercom. "You're broadcasting! Don't say anything!"

Piggot looked in disgust at Wharf Rat, then at his hands folded together, pressing the two buttons to override all other chatter and broadcast to all other comm bands. Every member of the Protectorate had heard Emily Piggot call them all monsters and wannabe gods, and seeing them as no different than the villains they pursued. He took his hand off the buttons, and the broadcast ended.

The elevator in front of them opened, and Alexandria, Legend and Eidolon stepped off. Behind them came Armsmaster, Narwhal, and Mouse Protector. Wharf Rat looked over at them all. "I think I'll be calling for a vote of no confidence and asking for a procedural audit of this facility," he said to Armsmaster.

Legend looked over at the two PRT security guards that were escorting Wharf Rat with Piggot. "Take a hike," he advised them, nodding back the way they came. The two men looked to their director for instructions, but she did not spare them a glance and they walked away hastily.

"What is the meaning of this?" Alexandria demanded.

Wharf Rat looked from her to the other three members of the Triumvirate that headed up the Protectorate. "Ever since I exposed her assistant director as a supervillain, she has been punishing me in any way she could and keeping me busy with public appearances instead of letting me investigate actual criminals and corruption," he said. "The supervillain in question was the only other survivor of the Nilbog massacre, and I think their collusion dates back to that bloodbath."

Piggot's mouth dropped open. "That is a gross mischaracterization of what has happened! This man has undermined my authority at every turn and attempted to turn the Protectorate heroes against me! This is just the latest gambit in his campaign against me, and he has the audacity to exploit an Endbringer attack like this!" she belted, looking ready to punch the skinny hero.

Eidolon sighed. "If we don't fire her, right now, then no member of the Protectorate will ever trust the PRT again," he said, looking over at the other two. "We will lose everything. Right now he's one of the biggest heroes in Protectorate history, the tactician that put it all together. And she was broadcast threatening to kill him off-the-books and calling the Protectorate a bigger threat than the Endbringers. If she has a job an hour from now, then we will lose every Endbringer defense for the rest of our lives."

Legend just stared at the woman, as if trying to figure out how someone could grow so petty, so hateful, and so blinded by their own vindictive spite. He glanced over at Alexandria, who nodded and walked away, opening the communications headset from her helmet and murmuring into the mouthpiece.

Wharf Rat stepped to the side, near Armsmaster. "How does everything look out there?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Like a lynch mob," Armsmaster said. "You know that you've turned the Protectorate upside down, right? I have no idea what's going to happen with all of this."

Danny sighed. "Neither do I. But I'm hoping that it's something better than we've had."

The communicator bands on their wrists beeped, and Tattletale's voice came through the speakers, sounding like she was at the end of the longest day of her life. "This is Tattletale filling in for Wharf Rat," she said. "I just received an official communication from Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown of the PRT. Director Emily Piggot is officially terminated, with an investigation pending to explore criminal charges."

Legend led the fat woman away, and the atmosphere in the hall lightened by several tons once she was out of sight. Eidolon clapped Danny on the shoulder. "Sorry about your city. That nuke right at the coast was bad, but I think it's all the water damage that's going to really suck to fix up. And, that sinkhole at the aquifer. I did what I could, but there's going to be a lot of foundation damage and some subsidence."

"We need a monument," Mouse Protector said. "Something that people come to see. Tourism is gonna be nuts after this."

Wharf Rat nodded absently. "Does anyone know if Trickster is still around? I'd like to talk to him about some stuff."

"Vanished," Armsmaster said, stifling a guffaw. "But you've got bigger problems, my friend."

"Like what?" Danny asked, his voice carrying plenty of suspicion at Armsmaster's suddenly gleeful tone.

The armored man grinned widely. "I am reviewing some material here on my visor. It turns out that with Piggot fired in disgrace, all of her high-level appointments are suspended from stepping into the Director's position. So the position is going to default to an acting director comprised of the highest-clearance PRT representative in the city that was not appointed by the previous director."

Wharf Rat could tell that the other man was drawing this out, loving the suspense, but he himself was ready to cut to the chase. "And who is that highest-clearance PRT representative?"

"How do you like the sound of Acting Director Glenn Chambers?" Armsmaster chortled.

"Oh fuck me."


"And so it is my privilege," Dauntless grinned widely, "to introduce to you all, with great pleasure, the man you knew as Wharf Rat. Ladies and gentlemen, some applause now for the Druid of Brockton Bay!"

Danny stepped out onto the stage from behind the curtain. The original sketches for the Druid costume had been rather toned-down, not too much unlike his outfit of hoodie and trenchcoat. But somehow between then and now, it had morphed into a full-on cloak that settled low over his shoulders and draped around his body. Behind him, framed for the dramatic photo angle, was the new monument, a spire of blue-gray ceramic that glittered icily as it speared up from the crater that Leviathan had left behind. His new mask was rigid, with the wood grain pattern laid into it that matched the plates of his breastplate and the greaves of his boots. It was all surprisingly lightweight, but lightweight could still be bulky and unwieldy.

"Greetings friends and visitors," Danny said, reading Acting Director Chambers' speech that was displayed in his heads-up display. "I come to you today to pay homage to this great monument to what this city has accomplished, and also to unveil myself as the Druid of Brockton Bay. The truth is that for quite a while I have been hiding the full range of my powers, only showing my control over rodents, rather than the creatures of the city and the forces of nature," he said. The tacky lies stuck to his tongue, the self-aggrandizing posturing left him nauseous. But on cue he raised a hand and a stream of cardinals and bluejays flew past, whirling around him before dispersing through the trees nearby. A drift of wind brought a shower of flower petals over the assembled crowd, a dramatic gesture borrowed from Japanese culture. And in the distance dogs began howling, harmonizing as they serenaded the city. "But after we have defeated one of the three great evils of the world, it did not seem fitting to answer to a name so gritty as 'wharf rat'. The moment called for something grand, and so now I show you as I am, the Druid. I stand ready to defend the city, and its people, at the sides of my teammates. And I will not be taking leadership from Dauntless, and the first one of you to suggest otherwise is going to wish he didn't," Danny said, to a ruffle of laughter through the crowd.

"Off script! Off script!" Glenn hissed in his ear.

"Anyway, I will be providing a more thorough introduction of myself soon, and meeting a great many of you, but today let us just focus on the win, the victory, the monument," he said, turning and gesturing grandly. He felt silly, but with the cloak and armor he had to overdo every gesture for it to look right. The last time he had been introduced to the press as a hero, the crowd had been made of whatever reporters and photographers came by, plus the normal crowd of look-sees visiting the Protectorate Tower. Today, the crowd swelled in the thousands, cheering and waving.

Under Glenn's orchestration, the Protectorate heroes posed for pictures in front of the monument in nearly every configuration. First, just the Protectorate East-North-East, then a wide panoramic shot with everyone who participated in the fight against Leviathan. Stand-ins and body doubles were used to represent the villains, grinning just as widely as the heroes. After that it began to winnow down to just those who fought the most directly or the most effectively. The last few shots were down to Legend, Eidolon, Alexandria, Parian, Clockblocker, Skipjack, Vista, Flechette, Tattletale's stand-in, Dinah Alcott, and Druid. The second to last shot was Alexandria, Parian, Clockblocker, Flechette, Tattletale and Druid. And the last was the only one he was asked to step out of along with Tattletale, leaving only the four people who had delivered the death blow from point-blank range. Hundreds of camera flashes went off for each pose, capturing them from every angle. Danny was already grateful for anti-glare compensation on his helmet's vision systems.

While the last few pictures were taken, Danny found himself in front of Eidolon, standing somewhat awkwardly in the midst of his colleagues and fellows. Danny stuck a hand out, and made sure his voice held a smile in it even through the mask. "It was a pleasure to work with you," Danny said. "I hope we don't have to wait for another one of these before we can work together again."

Eidolon took the hand and shook. "Likewise," he said. Up close he was less imposing than on television. "Maybe we could convince you to leave Brockton Bay and work for us in one of the major teams?"

"It takes me a while to really cultivate the rat population that I thrive on," Danny said apologetically. "I do best where I've been established. Maybe you could visit us every so often?"

"Or I could take you on a tour of major cities, and you could scoop their rat populations up to bring back with you," Eidolon suggested. "I'm sure nobody would miss them, and you'd be well weaponized."

Wharf Rat leaned back, floored by the idea. "Hmm, that could work out really well, honestly. I'd jump on it, but somehow I think my new director may not be thrilled with the idea."

Eidolon chuckled. "From what I've heard, you don't take instructions from PRT directors anyway."

Danny laughed with him. "Yeah, I'm going to have to get used to that sort of ribbing, I've definitely earned myself a reputation as a troublemaker."

Mouse Protector leaned against him and draped an arm over his shoulder. "And that just turns me on even more, big guy. Unfortunately, you've dropped the rodent motif, so we can't do any more supercool teamup missions."

"Wasn't my call," Druid said, "I never liked this 'druid' identity, it got started because of a miscommunication. Oh, my manners! Mouse Protector, this is Eidolon. Eidolon, Mouse Protector."

"We know each other by reputation," Eidolon said stiffly.

Mouse Protector clutched her hand to her heart. "Eidolon's heard of me!" she gasped, her eyelids a-flutter. "I've got warm fuzzies! You're the big cheese, and I'm just squeaking by in the Midwest. If you've got any advice, I'm all ears!"

"She's more tolerable than she seems," Druid said, unflinching. It was easy to keep a straight face behind the mask, and for his sort of dry humor that was an asset.

The woman jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "Ow. Armor, right. Stop being mean, you rat fink. But hey, have you guys noticed the bloom of young love over there?"

Druid followed her discreetly-pointing finger. "Oh, Parian and Flechette? Do you really think so?"

"Dude, I don't have rat senses, but I can smell the hormones boiling off those two," Mouse Protector said, elbowing him again. "Ow."

Eidolon looked uncomfortable, even through a full-face mask and a hooded cloak with its own inner glow. "Love isn't just hormones, you know."

"Sure, but young love is," she replied smoothly. "I'm gonna go meddle," she said, and detached herself from Druid to slip through the light crowd towards the two young women.

"We should get Flechette to recruit Parian to the Wards," Eidolon said idly.

Druid shook his head. "She's too old, but maybe Protectorate," he said, remembering the fashion design student who was nearing her graduation. In her costume it was easy to picture her in the Wards, dressed in her porcelain mask and blonde ringlet wig that reminded him of Shirley Temple. And her old-time doll dress, with petticoats and lace ribbons. The woman was very short, adding to the illusion of youth, but Danny was certain that a relationship between a twenty-two-year-old and a sixteen-year-old was not terribly appropriate. He made a mental note to look in on that later and discuss it with Parian.

"Oh, Legend is calling me," Eidolon said. "Take care, Druid."

"Thanks, you too," he said lamely to the most powerful hero in the Protectorate. And then he turned the wrong way, and fell into a pocket of reporters who wanted his picture and his statement.


"I'm booked all day with interviews and public appearances and statements and photo shoots!" Danny said, slapping the sheet of paper down on the director's desk. "Seriously, man, you've got to let me do my job!"

Glenn tapped his steepled fingers together. "Look, in the wake of what happened, your job is to make the Protectorate look as good as possible. We need the publicity, we need to capitalize on the win. You've said plenty of times now that the best PR is a winning record, but my friend you need to learn how to use that winning record, make it work for you."

Danny paced away. He wasn't wearing his full armor, but rather the lightweight version made of stretch cotton and fiberglass armor. It looked similar, but it wore much more comfortably and it was far easier to put on and take off. The cloak still swirled dramatically anytime he moved around too much though. "The city's suffering, Glenn. Leviathan tore things up, and emergency services aren't equipped to deal with it. He ruptured all the storm drains and about half the sewer lines. There's human sewage open to the air in the Docks, trash is piling up, and you've got me reading scripts like this was actually going to save lives. Me being on the streets is going to save lives, Glenn."

Director Chambers shook his head. "Soon, sure. We've got a few days before things get too serious, and we have to strike while the iron's hot. This publicity is the kind of thing that changes the world, Druid."

"Killing Endbringers changes the world," Danny shot back. "Publicity just changes how people perceive it. And if you'd rather believe in an illusion than- hang on a tick. Illusion. Glenn, can a hologram give an interview while I go do some really useful work?"

"A hologram?" the man repeated back, adjusting his tortoiseshell glasses.

Danny nodded. "Yeah, I've got a device from Leet that lets me project myself into holograms, lets me see and hear and speak through them."

"That seems disingenuous," Glenn said, frowning. "When people sit down for an interview, they expect a human connection and your full attention, not just a smoke and mirror trick. We owe the press more respect than that."

Danny blew out a laugh of disbelief. "You've got me lying about what my powers are, Glenn, you created a whole new persona just to fool people with sleight-of-hand tricks. And at this point you're shooting down ideas that can save lives because of a personal respect for human-interest journalists."

Glenn rocked forward, his stomach bunching onto the desk as he moved. "Now hold on. The decision to create the Druid persona was tactical. If your enemies do not know your powers, they can't plan for your powers. And we've gotten Armsmaster to beef you up, given you dozens of capabilities you didn't have. We expanded you way past the Wharf Rat persona."

"You and I both know that you made this pick because of how it plays in Peoria," Danny shot back. "You never liked the rat angle, you've always wanted to distance us from that. You thought it was seedy and gritty. You like bold, dramatic, iconic looks. You want me to look like Dauntless or Triumph, and the more attention I draw the more emphasis you put on that iconic look. Look, people are going to start getting sick. We have plague conditions in this city. And the rat-controller is exactly what you need to keep from tipping the city into a plague pit. Would you at least look at the potential for negative publicity if Brockton Bay turns septic?"

Glenn leaned back, sighing. "You're really determined on this, aren't you?"

"Fuck yes."

"And can you give a real interview by hologram?"

"I can."

The fat publicist grunted unhappily. "Then I guess we can start getting you some patrols. Covertly."

"The Docks would be low-profile," he suggested.

Glenn sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, fine, do it. Now shoo on out of here, I'm busy!"

Danny walked out, and as soon as he was clear of the door Glenn's army of assistants bustled back in, submitting their work for his approval. Speeches, soundbites, decorating, costuming, merchandising, all of it was almost right and needed just a suggestion from the main man.

That afternoon, when rats came boiling out of the storm drains and alleys and crevices, the citizens of the Docks were initially spooked. But when the creatures began acting with a single mind, the mood lightened dramatically and immediately. The rats swarmed into open garbage bags and cans, eating anything food-based, before they could start turning into rotted messes full of germs and miasma. They aggressively killed cockroaches and wasps and anything else that could pose a continuing risk to the people. They worked together to clear blockages from the storm drains so that the water levels would drop, and dragged piles of newspapers out of abandoned firetrap houses and used them to sop up puddles so that the mosquitoes wouldn't breed in them.

And all the while the Druid avoided the public eye and rode through the storm drains, slow and easy, taking the time to do a thorough job everywhere he went. And in the cargo hold of his buggy, a few rats sat around a touchscreen tablet and manipulated the controls for a simulacrum of Druid on the other side of the city. The hologram was being projected by a small bluebird that Armsmaster had built, and it let the Druid appear and disappear at will. He answered the reporter's trite and predictable questions, while shifting position and gesturing in a natural way. And nobody was any the wiser, as long as he had a good excuse not to shake anyone's hand.

By the end of the first afternoon his rats were so stuffed full and so exhausted that he had to tuck them away someplace safe and set their breeding cycles off, then ride off to find a fresh batch of rodents to pick up the work. He worked like that for days, increasing the rat's metabolism so they would eat more and work harder, while he repaired the damage that Leviathan left behind. And while he was out, he kept his rats alert for anything that might be the Undersider's headquarters. He wasn't sure, but he was willing to take a chance that discovering the Undersiders by accident when he was not snooping for them particularly, wouldn't violate his promise to Tattletale.

And at the end of his day, he would return to the Tower and crash right the hell out, squeezing in eight hours before he had to wake up for his next public appearance. He only occasionally got a break to catch a meal, but at least Taylor was out of school and he could chat with her over the in-helmet communications whenever either of them chose to.

"Okay, next one: the Empire Eighty-Eight."

"Oh, tough one. Okay, I'd first make sure that Rune and Kaiser were in close proximity at all times. Her thing is massive telekinesis against things she's touched, so she's good at those giant floating boulders, some for her to ride on and some for her to attack with. He can manifest swords and blades from any inanimate object. So, picture two massive slabs of concrete smashing into each other, dropping dozens of hundred-pound chunks, that then all turn into spiked boulders as they fall. That one trick by itself would eliminate most hero teams," Taylor said.

"Oh, very nice. Oh, and having Othala add superspeed to Hookwolf. He's nearly unstoppable as it is, but she could get rid of that 'nearly'," Danny shot back.

Taylor hmmed at that thought. "But Othala is the team's weak spot, as you demonstrated. They would need to shore her up before they make any major plans around her. She either needs to start wearing armor like Kaiser, or finding some other way to protect herself."

"She could hide behind Menja's shield," Danny said. "Or Fenja. Whichever has the shield, I really don't remember. But when she's fully grown, that shield is ten feet tall, they could just build a little cubby for her back there with some seatbelts. And then she's mobile, protected, and can be brought to any of the teammates at a moment's notice."

"Really? A cubby on the back of a shield? I would think that Crusader was the natural pick. He's got shields, can fly, and can be anywhere at once," Taylor said. "Or, check this out, getting Crusader to air-drop Fog into place, making him even more mobile. His big liability is his movement speed."

"Not bad at all," Danny replied. "But I'd rather suggest that Krieg get in there to help, since he can lower air resistance and speed Fog up considerably."

"You just keep steering away from Crusader and trying to find other ways to make up the difference," Taylor said. "What's up with that?"

Her father paused before he replied. "He's unreliable. If the main guy takes a hit, all the clones vanish at the same time. He's really useful, but you shouldn't hinge too many tactics on one guy that can be neutralized like that."

"Makes sense. Okay, next round: the Travelers!"

"First things first," Danny said. "Full matching costumes. I mean full-on black bloc with this thing. Smaller members wearing bulkier costumes so that everyone is indistinguishable. Trickster can swap people's positions, so don't make it easy for your enemy to know which of you they're fighting."

Taylor thought for a second. "They need to work harder at getting their powers coordinated. Ballistic is powerful with his ability to turn things into projectiles, and Sundancer is a very powerful but limited pyrokinetic. Now, we know that he could just launch enemies into her fireball and kill them, but he's not willing to kill. But still, if he started carrying water balloons and using those, he could create sudden bursts of extremely high pressure steam, that's a neat trick. Not to mention, water balloons would be a nice nonlethal ammunition for him to use."

"Not to mention maneuverability. Consider this four-part combo: Genesis is in a form that looks just like her teammates but is heavily armored or very durable. Trickster lines her and Ballistic up side by side. He launches her, maybe as a weapon, maybe just launches her to get her some distance and room to maneuver. Then Trickster swaps Genesis out for Sundancer or himself, someone more vulnerable who needs lots of visibility. Or if you're up against something tough enough, throw Genesis and then swap her and Ballistic so he is right next to the enemy, and have him launch them directly."

"Nice one, dad. Or just have Ballistic launch Trickster way up into the sky, and have him switch his position for the enemy, let them fall back to ground the hard way."

They had some weird conversations.

After a week of hard work, the Docks were very nearly cleared out and cleaned up. And that's when Danny got a phone call from Glenn while he was out on his rounds. "Druid, this is the Director," Glenn said. He finally sounded comfortable introducing himself that way.

"Druid here," Danny said, while hundreds of his minions ate their way through comestible garbage to keep the bug populations down and reduce the chance of spreading disease, as well as reducing the bulk of garbage for the city to haul away when services were restored and the streets were repaired. Every street on the east side of the city was still split down the middle, ruptured when Leviathan yanked the water mains and storm sewers upwards against the concrete.

"I've been getting some phone calls from our donors, and they'd like you to send your helpers over to their neighborhoods as well," Glenn said. "Shearsea and Pasture Green, specifically."

"If our donors had their way they would leave the outskirts of the city to fend for themselves and fester in filth," Danny said, his voice mild. "They've got money, they can afford plenty of options. Right now I'm taking care of people that don't have anyone but me. If I walk away, they've got no hope at all. I'll choose the people whose survival is at stake over the people whose convenience is at stake."

"You won't make friends like that," Glenn pointed out. "These are the donors that keep our operation afloat, the ones that let all of us live in lavish style."

"Maybe those aren't the sort of friends I'm looking to make," Druid replied cheekily.

Glenn's superior tone was almost eroded away now. "Don't be like that! Look, make nice and play along, I'll make it worth your while."

"Make me a really good offer," Druid said.

"The ferry."

All the rats paused in place, his surprise transmitted to all of them. "That's a good offer," he said. "You've read my file."

"I'll get a third stop put in, up near the Boat Graveyard, so that all of the Docks are in reach of the ferry, and it will go to the downtown station. Full disclosure, I'm expecting it to be a massive tourist draw, it rides past the back side of the monument and I think people will pay money to ride a ferry that takes them past the place where Leviathan died. But it will also take Brockton residents back and forth, like you've always wanted. I'll lean on the zoning boards and the tourism commission, you handle some fundraising to defray their costs. And, get to Shearsea and Pasture Green, fix them up the way you fixed the Docks."

Danny hung up the phone, and pumped his fist in victory.


The west side of the city was light on rats, being mostly manicured and maintained downtown areas and suburbs. There were still rodents present, but not enough for the scale of what was necessary. So, Druid and Assault borrowed the VTOL. It was easy enough to drive, but Assault could use his powers over kinetic energy to give the engines a boost, and he really wanted to be part of this operation when he heard that Druid was planning on loading the passenger compartment full of several tons of rats and then air-dropping them on the ritzy suburbs and McMansions of the west end, and that he had official sanction for this. Or something that could be vaguely interpreted as official sanction for this job. Assault had to see this for himself.

"How many?" he asked as they dipped in for the drop.

"I counted thirty-one thousand of them," Danny replied. "The most I've every controlled." He looked over his shoulder at the passenger space, which was filled wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling with sleek-furred torpedo-shaped bodies. The creatures held themselves just far enough apart that they had room to breathe and didn't smother each other under their weight, though for the ones at the bottom it was a close thing. They flew fast for the sake of the rats, Assault charging the engines for more speed and lift. Without his help the craft would probably not have gotten off the ground. Druid handled the controls of the craft, which were so simple as to be intuitive. And when they reached the west end, he started opening the rear hatch while Assault hummed the opening theme from The Flight of the Valkyries. And the rats tumbled out in a stream, a seemingly-unending barrage that fell out and hit the ground running, scrambling up and down the street. They began eating all the perishable garbage that was to be found, and pulling out any garbage that could soak up water and using that to mop up puddles and wipe up mud.

Assault eased up on the engine as the load dropped, and then he took the controls from the Druid as the tall thin man walked out of the craft. The VTOL took off again, getting back to the Tower so that it would be ready for any calls that came in. These days both the Protectorate and the Wards stayed pretty busy, dealing with both the desperate and the opportunistic in the wake of Leviathan's destruction. Druid sat on a bench and let his helpers do their bit, working fast and efficiently. With so many rats, he was working at a nearly unprecedented pace, and yet he still had some attention left over to let wander. When the call had gone out to defend against the Endbringer, he and the Protectorate had been trying to figure out what to do about the Undersiders. It was a sticky situation.

Because of Tattletale, they could not expect any trick or trap to work. There was no way to set an ambush or lay out bait. The Undersiders were masters of the escape plan, there was no way to chase them or catch them when they did strike, even if the heroes got there in time to stop them from whatever crime they were committing. Because of his promise, it was basically off-limits for them to even try to attack the Undersiders in their own lair. So, he mused, it needed to be a static situation, on neutral ground, with no actual deception or gambits. It took him a minute to realize that this was just a fair fight. That was how he would beat the Undersiders.

He pulled out his phone. "Hey Glenn, it's Druid. Listen, I've got an idea. Huh? Yeah, I'm in Shearsea right now, cleaning the place up. This should go pretty fast, I brought a lot of rats and it's not nearly as big a problem as the Docks are. Anyway, it's about the Undersiders. Yeah. Yeah, I know you're not really tactical. But I feel I should run this past you: I want to call them out. A challenge, pistols at high noon if you see what I'm getting at. Public, bold. Yeah. Sure, it's time the press and the public got a chance to see what it is we do, right? So few super-battles get recorded or documented. Look, we can't find these guys to fight them. But if we fight them, we'll win. So we just need to get them to show up and stay put so we can beat them. Yeah. No, see, when I was talking to Tattletale in the command center she mentioned that they're consolidating territory, trying to wrangle all the criminal businesses for themselves. And to do that, they need the reputation. So if I post a public challenge, they can't afford to turn it down. If they don't show up they lose too much face, they won't be able to keep their business afloat. If they do show up, then we beat them. Uh huh. Uh h- wait. Me? Like by myself? That's stupid, Glenn. Yeah, it's stupid. Listen, there's four of them. And here's the secret, I'm pretty sure all four of them are more powerful than I am. Look, I'll just take three of my teammates, probably Dauntless and Triumph and Miss Militia, good blasters with area-effect capacity so they can hit things even in the dark. What? No, Glenn c'mon, I'm not going to face them all solo. Wh- dammit. I'll... I'll get back to you on this."

He hung up. Suddenly he had a lot more to think about. But, maybe there was some help a bit closer by. Shearsea was close to another residential area he'd been to a few times before on the west side. He started walking while his rats did their work. Several blocks over, about a half-hour's walk, he was at the house, and he rang the doorbell.

"Hello Mr. Alcott," the Druid said. "Is Dinah home?" He was a bit surprised when the man hugged him, but after some stilted small talk he was led inside where Dinah's mother hugged him as well, babbling about how they never got a chance to thank him for finding their girl. And only then did he find out that Dinah was laid up in bed and had been there since Leviathan attacked. He was led to her room.

The girl lay on her pillow with a cold compress on her forehead and her blankets tucked up to her chin, the room's only window blocked out with a spare blanket tacked up over it to put the room into cavelike darkness. He was asked to speak only in a soft voice and to leave when she started to get tired.

"Hey Dinah," he said. "I heard you're sick."

"Not sick," she groaned. "Just hurt."

"What happened?" he prompted.

"Broke my power when Leviathan came. Endbringers screw up my power, I can't get the numbers, all the probabilities start fuzzing together. I can't count the futures or figure what's likely. But my power isn't completely gone. So, I found one future that worked out perfectly, a future where we win. I couldn t get the odds on it, but for a few seconds I could look straight at it and see what happened, what made it different than the other futures. Then I told my mom, and then I passed out," she said. "Is there water?"

He was barely able to see a water glass on her bedside table, and he tipped it to her lips carefully, letting her sip until she was ready to stop. "So that's how you knew," he said. "And that's why you're hurting this bad."

"Was worse," she croaked.

"I am very, very sorry to hear that, and very very sorry that I didn't visit you earlier," he said. "I didn't know you were like this. I didn't know why they sent a stand-in for you to the photo shoot."

"It takes me some time to put the numbers back, to put things back where they belong," she said. "I should be fine next week, able to use my power again. Is everyone really okay?"

"Forty people were injured in the evacuation to the shelters," Danny said to her. "Eight had medical emergencies while they were in the shelters. Two people died, one old lady with a heart condition and a young diabetic man who didn't tell anyone that he hadn't brought his insulin. Several hundred buildings were destroyed, businesses and homes. A couple of heroes were injured, one very badly. And she was healed. We didn't lose any heroes or even villains. Leviathan was destroyed, and he didn't kill anyone, because of you and me. On an average day in Brockton Bay, more people die because of car accidents than died that day because of the battle. You did amazing, Dinah."

"Thanks," she said, smiling faintly. "I'm really tired now, is that okay?"

"It's fine," he said, standing up again. "By the way, they call me Druid now instead of Wharf Rat."

"That's all wrong," she said, yawning deeply. "Stupid name. I'll be glad when you change it." And then she lapsed into silence, and he stepped out, closing her door quietly behind him.


The Boardwalk was mostly destroyed, the shockwave from Leviathan's destruction had blown over the quaint shops and the trendy restaurants, and the pyroclastic wave had ignited the wreckage and even the sun-weathered boardwalk itself. Local businesses were rebuilding, but this time the monument was the centerpiece of the Boardwalk, the road bending to arc around it and frame the area. The ground was made of crushed glass, the crater was a bit oddly shaped as it was shallow at the edges and then dipped steeply down towards the middle. The giant crystal spire stood between the deepest part of the crater and the waterline, but the tourists all stood behind the railing at the edges, staring inward, talking in low voices. Nobody crossed the line, nobody came closer. It was part reverence, part fear. The ground was clearly treacherous and the price of a fall would be high. And when one looked around at the buildings that were just now being built up, empty frames as far as the eye could see, it was easy to remember the immense damage done to this area, and the continuing worries about some heretofore unknown form of radiation.

Reporters began showing up, called by the Director for a special announcement. And this time they found no stage set up, no microphones, no director, no pageantry, and no indication of what the announcement was. And at the stroke of the hour, a small blue bird landed on the top of the monument. And then the Druid appeared in the crater, standing on the broken glass effortlessly. He stood straight and tall, his face covered by a featureless oval wooden mask that matched the armor of his torso. His cloak was forest green, and he held a long walking stick of twisted mossy wood. "Good morning Brockton Bay," the hero said, facing out across the lines of people. His voice projected easily across the space. "I have an announcement for the city, and for four particular people. When I came here, villains were rampant in the city. Between thirty and forty of them. Today there are four. Months ago, I promised Tattletale that I would not track her team, or hunt them down. Since then, the Undersiders have abused my promise and exploited the good faith I extended them. They have grown bolder with daring robberies, mass murders, and chaos in the streets. They have used me to eliminate their competition. So today I am calling them out. I will be here on Saturday at noon, this spot. And next Saturday, and every Saturday after that until they show up. I am issuing them a challenge, come here and fight me in the open. Four on one. Bring your best efforts, Undersiders, bring your A game. No holding back, no mistakes. I don't want you to have any excuses when you lose. But no tricks, no hostages, just a stand-up fight, may the best cape win. I'll be here waiting, Undersiders, will you answer?"

And then the Druid turned in place and walked away from the crowd while the on-the-scene reporters chattered frantically about the meaning of this speech. He paused to lay a hand on the side of the monument, then walked past it, and kept going until he reached the water. He walked out, on top of the water, for a hundred feet before he stopped in place and sunk down under the waves.

Danny watched on the television as the local reporters inserted their commentary into this scene. "I still think that exit was way too much," he said to Glenn. "It kind of gilds the lily. It's like it's begging someone to point out how ridiculous it is."

"Showmanship," Glenn insisted, gesturing broadly. "Relax, it's such a good story that people will appreciate those touches."

But Danny had a lot else on his mind. Leviathan was stopped. The ferry was returning. But the city had taken a lot of damage. On the other hand, there was a massive fund hosted by the PRT just to repair cities after Endbringer attacks, so a lot of money was going into the reconstruction of the roads and the sewers and the utility lines. But that meant that all local industry was going into the reconstruction efforts, the factories were churning out concrete and rebar and culvert pipes as fast as they could. The Dockworkers were staying busy, unloading materials coming in off the ships and sending them on to the factories, but he was worried that when the reconstruction was over the factory owners would shut down again, and the jobs would stop. The city leaders were trying to pivot the city's economy, turning it towards finance and technology and tourism, and away from all that gritty blue-collar manufacturing. And with the rush of new visitors come to see the monuments and the city and the new Boardwalk, he felt like he himself had helped them do it. It was that storm of emotions, the boiling what-ifs, the tumbling questions of whether he had done the right thing or the wrong thing. He had not felt that in a while, he had spent weeks now gripped with utter certainty about everything, but now the frustrations were mounting again. A knot in his stomach that he had hoped was gone forever. And calling out the Undersiders was certainly adding to that indecision, that should-I-have or should-I-not-have anxiety that used to keep him from sleeping.

"There's four of them to my one," Danny pointed out, pacing in the office. "And they've got a ton of experience working together. Tattletale knows every weakness and every vulnerability, I don't even know how badly she can screw me. Grue creates a darkness that you can't see through or hear through, that even screws up your sense of touch and smell. But Bitch's dogs smell through it just fine and they can attack with impunity in that darkness, which is a terrible thing to hear about a dog the size of a Subaru with fangs the size of an actual sword. And Regent is likely the highest rated Master in the city, the son of Heartbreaker. They've got millions of dollars to purchase the best weapons and gear, and I've told them to bring their A-game. Glenn, this is stupid."

"And you're going to have plenty of power at your disposal too," Glenn reminded him. "Don't worry about that stuff. Let the rest of us get you ready. You concentrate on learning how to use the new bird-drones, and trying to keep the city sanitary while the construction crews do their thing."

Danny shook that set of worries off and changed the subject. "So, I hear that Squealer is suing us."

"Yes, and I'll be needing you to write up a-"

"I'll be testifying on her behalf," Danny interrupted.

"I beg your pardon?" the fat man blinked, taken aback. His tie today was a monochrome paisley that kept trying and failing to blend into the striped shirt he was wearing.

"Squealer's tinker talent designed those vehicles, and she deserves a fair cut of the proceeds. And when people find out about that, they'll start offering her a decent paycheck for more of her original designs. Not the stuff she messes with and distorts, but her first-draft genius. And it'll revolutionize a dozen industries to start with," Danny said, smiling with satisfaction.

Glenn scowled at him, his chins tucking down against his collar. "You know that we try to keep tinker tech out of public circulation, so they don't mess up the way that humanity's science is developing. Especially with villain tech, and we especially work to not let them get rich so they can fund even more criminal enterprises."

"Just cut Squealer a check," Danny rebutted. "Her fuel efficiency could help the world environment, and reduce the oil profits that are funding a dozen wars in the Middle East. And if she gets rich, she's going to buy herself a gold-plated mansion filled with gold-plated statues of herself and oiled-up male models to massage her feet. She's not going to start an empire of crime, she's going to pamper herself. We'll have to be careful to not let her buy a lethal amount of drugs or she'll die within a week. What she does is objectively good for the world. C'mon man, don't be Piggot about this."

Glenn tried not to laugh at that. "You're turning her into a word?"

"Absolutely. It could catch on."

The new director shook his head. "Did you hear that they are not actually pressing charges against her? Guess you're not going to get your Christmas list this year."

Danny sighed. "Let me guess, not enough evidence that she knew Calvert was a villain?"

"Well, no evidence, but yeah basically."

Danny nodded. "Okay. Que sera sera, and all that. Just get me ready for the Undersiders, and cut Squealer a check. I'm going to go visit Oni Lee."

"How's he doing?"

"Better. He's speaking. He told me that he feels funny. I told him that it's been a long time since he felt anything, so it's okay to feel weird at first. Why do you ask?"

"Human interest," Glenn said. "The evening news loves a redemption story for their human interest segment, and a villain assassin who's rehabilitated and reformed would go great with some of the other narratives I'm advancing."

"Goodbye Glenn."


"God, this is going to take months," Danny said, watching the construction workers repairing the street.

"Don't you dare," Battery said, jabbing a finger in his direction. "I don't care if you figure out how to fix the streets with your rats, you stay away from it and let someone else in this city do a job."

"That's not what I meant, honest," Danny said, struggling to pick up the shorter mugger and carry him towards the VTOL. "I just want the city to be back to normal, that's all."

Battery picked up the other two and hauled them into the passenger compartment in a fraction the time, then stood back and let Danny struggle with his captive. "Just keep doing what you're doing, Druid. Deal with the garbage, keep things safe. It's going to be a while before trucks can travel around here more than a few blocks in any direction, but even if things aren't normal they're at least getting better. I mean, you've heard that grocery stores are starting to get restocked again, right? Not just airdrops of supplies, but local grocery stores are getting their shipments in. It takes a lot of cargo bikes to carry as much as an eighteen-wheeler, but it gets done."

"Does wonders for unemployment too," Druid said, dropping the third mugger next to the other two. All three of them were bound hand and foot with zip ties and were unconscious from a combination of tasers and sedatives. Danny's new birds were versatile.

Battery nodded. "Four new bike courier companies in the city, three of them specializing in cargo hauling. It's actually kind of neat. There's a lot of talk about making the city more bike-friendly while they rebuild, trying to encourage foot traffic. It would basically let them extend the Boardwalk several blocks in from the water, expand the city's tourism district."

"I don't like the idea of basing a city's economy on tourism," he said. "Too fickle. If interest dies down, we're sunk. And I don't trust these people not to try to launch Leviathanland as an amusement park to try to turn this into a vacation destination."

She laughed aloud at that. "They might actually try it. But come on, we do have a good climate here, which is why you can actually wear armor and a cloak in high summer and I can wear skintight unitards in winter. And a good climate is almost all you need for a tourism economy."

Druid stepped back out of the craft and dusted his hands off. "Maybe, but I'd like to see us as a manufacturing economy. Maybe a white-collar manufacturing economy. The city's got a pretty good tech sector and engineering firms, and a lot of existing factory buildings with all the infrastructure. It should be pretty easy for us to become a world leader in automation and high-tech industry."

Battery shrugged. "They don't listen to my opinions on this stuff, or even yours. Let the mayor and his cronies do what they do, and we'll just lock up the muggers and call it a day," she said. She thumped the button and the back of the plane closed up, the ramp lifting to seal shut. Druid waved as he watched her climb in and lift off, then he went back to work scouring threats from the city. Some two-legged that carried guns, others with many more legs that could spread deadly disease. He kept a retinue of birds around him to keep up the illusion. The inside of his cloak was lined with dozens of small pockets, and in each small pocket was a small mouse and a tiny control rig with a joystick and a handful of buttons. Those mice controlled the drone birds that he kept around him, so that he appeared to control the birds with the same ease and facility as his rodents.

And one of those birds was equipped with a couple new gadgets from the workshop of Armsmaster. That tinker was producing more and more work these days, his workshop evolving as he condensed the parts and made every process more efficient. It seemed like every day one member of the team or another got a new weapon or a new piece of equipment to test out, or more refinements to the armor they all wore. Druid bent down and picked up his walking stick, and was very careful not to touch four particular knots in the wood at the same time. The nano-disassemblers Armsmaster had devised could disintegrate pretty much anything. It was meant to be a major equalizer in his battle against the Undersiders, tomorrow.

So were the birds. He picked out the ordinary-looking pigeon that he was testing out today. It swooped and dove, flying out several blocks away, so that he could only sense or see it through the screen projected to the mouse inside his cloak and the coordinates alongside them. He swooped around, perched, pecked, and scanned the area to make sure it was suitable. Then it took off, and left behind a small spurt of pheromones. It flew back towards him, leaving a thin trail of the chemicals, and then headed to an area a block west of him. The rats there had a pack of stray dogs corralled, hungry creatures that were getting desperate. Odds were most of them had families that lost them in the chaos of Leviathan's attack. It was nearly impossible for the animals shelters to take in all the animals, and almost impossible for families of missing pets to travel to nearby shelters to look for their missing friends. The rats rounded the dogs up with hissing and coordinated tactics, the same sort of bear-baiting he had used against Lung. And then they opened up a gap in the corral while the pigeon flew low. Its supersonics kicked in, and the dogs turned and fled the unbearable noise, running off. Their path turned and led in a specific path as they blindly followed a trail that was laid out for them. The pigeon circled around ahead of them and started hailing them with another whistle, this one much gentler, a dog-whistle to lure them in. One mouse to control one pigeon, one pigeon to control a pack of feral dogs. Not bad, Danny thought.

Unfortunately there was not much he could do with cats. They didn't respond as reliably to the signals, and they had a tendency to just try to kill his rats and pigeons regardless of pheromones or high-pitched whistles. But Danny had read somewhere that urban outdoor cats were some of the most prolific murderers ever found in the animal kingdom.

He activated the comm circuit in his helmet with pressure from his jaw. "Armsmaster, this is Druid," he said.

"Armsmaster here."

"Successful field test of the new dog-whistle drone. I'll be testing it more through the day, but I wanted to keep you appraised."

"I appreciate it. By the way, I've got a memo in my box with your name attached to it, recommending that I stop working on new weapons tech for Velocity."

Danny directed his rats and started corralling cats the way he had the dogs. "Yeah, just another one of my tell-you-how-to-do-your-job things. Velocity's powers aren't really cut out for combat. I mean, dividing his strength and durability in proportion to increases in his speed? There's no net gain, it's ten punches at one-tenth force. But if you stop thinking of him as a speedster, he gets a lot more interesting. Armsmaster, what do you call someone that can think at ten times normal speed, type and read and process at ten time normal speed?"

"A thinker, and a damn strong one," Armsmaster said. "Someone we'd keep on the console all the time, honestly. But how do you tell a man that you're going to bench him? That he's not super enough to be in the field, but is super enough to hang out in the barracks and order the pizza?"

"People have had to be retired to desk duty for centuries," Druid replied. "You guys go way back, but if you'd like I can talk to him."

Armsmaster sighed. "No, dammit, I'll do it. He should hear it from me."

"If nothing else, you know what it feels like," Danny said.

"Hah! What are you talking about? I'm at the top of my game these days. Did you know when I stepped down from leadership I was worried all the time that Dauntless would become more powerful than me? He gets stronger every day. But with all the work I've been able to do, I'm twice as powerful as I was then. I'm not riding a desk, I'm pulling further ahead of you all every day."

Danny chuckled along with the other man, sharing a laugh with his friend. "And I'm very glad that this move has been so good for you. You kind of resented it at first."

"Resented the hell out of it," Armsmaster confirmed. "Now then, I gotta go, I'm working on a test to interlock these nano-saws, and if I screw this up all life on earth is over. So, you know, I should concentrate."

"Concentrate hard," Druid said. "Later."

He hung up and called animal control to pick up the cats. He didn't need any threats to his minions. Cats were just not part of the Druid's arsenal.


Saturday dawned clear and sweet, a light breeze catching the branches of the trees and wicking sweat from skin, the sun just warm enough to leave the body feeling invigorated and not sapped. And through Saturday morning, PRT technicians and Kid Win were installing force field projectors near the railing of the monument park, creating a safe zone for bystanders to observe from. The area was too big to wall off entirely, so innocent passerby were urged away from unprotected areas and warning signs were posted, cautioning citizens of the likelihood of a parahuman battle in the area.

At eleven-thirty, the Druid walked out of the front doors of the Protectorate Tower, and started walking towards the center of the Boardwalk. Birds fluttered along with him, landing on powerlines and tree branches, dipping down to cruise just inches above his head. Dogs trotted in from side streets and alleyways, joining in the procession. And rats mixed into the procession, not as a unified force but just slipping up out of hiding long enough to be seen, then disappearing again, hinting at the huge well of hidden power he could call on. He walked with his staff, tapping gently against the sidewalk as he strolled. People stopped to take pictures, gaping at the hero making his first big show of power. Other people walked with him, joining the procession. Traffic slowed as people and dogs spilled off the sidewalk, cars pausing to switch into the clear middle lanes. Passersby and tourists alike walked after him, following towards the Boardwalk monument.

At noon he strode past the railings, and walked across the broken glass to where he stood a week before. Birds swooped all around him, landing and lifting off again, and finally settling on the ground all around him in a spray of colorful songbird splashes and drab pigeon grays. Dogs followed along with him, looking more restless and feral as they milled about. By contrast the rats looked almost regimented and disciplined as they took places all around. He cradled the staff in the crook of his elbow, and stood waiting. Television cameras broadcast live to local stations, showing him waiting. After a minute, he conspicuously pushed back his glove and checked his watch, then went back to his silent standing vigil.

He locked his knees and cued the armor to brace itself, so that it held him upright rather than the other way around. This let him relax inside his armor while appearing eerily still from outside, like a statue disturbed only by the gentle wind on his cloak and the motion of the dogs as they settled in around his feet. He flexed his jaw to open the comms. "Druid to Benthic," he said.

"Benthic here," she replied a second later.

"Hey baby. I'm out here doing the stupidest thing of my life because I let Glenn talk me into it. Where are you?"

"I'm about a hundred yards behind you," she said. "Underwater, just out of sight. My visor can compensate for the distortion of refraction, so I've got the best view of anyone except maybe you. So, I have to say, this is really unlike you. Not just the Druid thing, I honestly like it. I basically designed the costume, so of course I like it. But I mean the stand-up face-to-face battle. Against the ABB you just sent the rats to ambush them and didn't even show up until after everything was clear. You were so adamant about not being near danger. And then against the Merchants you hit them with a landmine and then sent your rats to jump them, only showed up when it was mostly resolved. You beat Crusader with mind games and a phone call. You attacked Othala and Rune with sneak attacks, ambushed Night with pickup trucks, captured Fog by holding her hostage, and then tricked Purity into wearing herself out so you could catch her. Coil was beaten after a long campaign of investigation and maneuvering, then a massive overwhelming ambush. You talked Uber and Leet and Circus and Trainwreck into leaving villainy. You exposed Shadow Stalker and had her own teammates arrest her. You intimidated Faultline's crew out of the city. I don't even know what happened with the Travelers, but it was definitely something weird. You've done almost everything except an actual stand-up fight, you've done everything possible to avoid a stand-up fight. And yet here you are, declaring a challenge."

He tried to shrug but his armor wouldn't let him. "You're not wrong."

"And yet somehow I'm still so certain that this is still a gambit," she said.

"You're really very sure of that?" he teased.

"Yup," she said, confidently. "I'm not sure how, but this is still a gambit."

"But Glenn would not like me using tricks," he pointed out.

"So obviously Glenn is one of the people you're messing with," she replied.

Danny cued his visor's extruded view, and it zoomed like a telescope where he was watching. The internal surface monitored his eye movements and tracked them to manipulate the view. "Hang on baby," he said, "Looks like they're gonna show." Across the rooftops, a mile away, he could see two massive beasts leaping from rooftop to rooftop, banking off of walls. Sometimes they dipped out of sight only to reappear a minute later. And as they approached he could see four figures sitting astride them. One in black, one in white and silver, one in purple, one in brown. The monsters they rode were bedecked with straps and apparati, apparently they had taken him at his word to bring their full armament. He had no idea what that stuff was, but he did trust that Tattletale would bring good gear. "I love you Taylor," he said. "Gotta go now."

"Love you too Dad," she said, and then he bumped his jaw to shut off the comms, and unlocked the armor so he could stand on his own.

The crowd parted to make way for the massive animals, weird mutated beasts with gnarled muscle instead of skin and hooks of bone prodding out through that. The crowd surged towards the force field projectors, moving to get a safe view of the proceedings. The mutants hopped the railing, their wide-clawed paws leaving deep imprints as they cracked through the crust of glass. The Undersiders did not dismount, they just stared down at him with the psychological advantage of height. Danny reflected that doing that probably indicated a sense of insecurity on their parts.

Tattletale leaned forward. "Really? A challenge at high noon? Who does that?"

"Someone who knows that the criminals you're intimidating to take control would never let you live it down if you didn't answer me," he said.

Grue sighed. "Let's just get this over with."

Druid nodded. "Do your darkness, we'll take it from there." A cloud of black billowed out, swallowing the entire park, extending out past the railings. And there was silence, and stillness, except for the eerie roiling of the black cloud. The onlookers stared with bated breath.

And inside, Druid held up both hands crossed as a "T for timeout". The Undersiders were already lunging forward, and checked their movements. He reached under his cloak, and pulled out a small white flag on a stick, and waved it three times. A minute later, the darkness around him pulled back, leaving him in a clearing inside the swirling walls of midnight. And then Grue, Tattletale, Regent and Bitch walked out of the darkness and stood across from him. Bitch crossed her arms, Regent put his hands on his hips. Grue looked like he was in a ready position, prepared to attack or defend, Tattletale managed to slouch while standing. "Okay," she said. "So, this is obviously the only way you could get a meeting on neutral ground, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "Would you rather fight?"

"Yeah," Bitch snarled. "We should fuck you up."

Druid stood in place, surrounded by dogs that lay at his feet. There was no way to attack him without killing at least a few of the feral dogs. He stared straight at her, to see if she was going to murder him or if his hunch about her weak spot for canines was on target. She glared, but did not whistle her mutants to kill him. He held her eyes. "You guys aren't working for Coil anymore. So I'm going to ask the same question that I asked before: are you getting what you want?"

"I just want to be left alone," Bitch shot back. There was real venom in her voice.

"And are you being left alone?" he asked.

"Hell no," she said.

"If I could make arrangements to have you left alone, would you stop stealing and killing?" Danny asked her.

"If they fuck with me, I'm gonna fuck them up," Bitch shot back.

"Understood," Danny said. He was quickly losing the impression that Bitch could be reached at all. She was too defensive, too hair-trigger. It may well be that whatever the best intentions were, she was going to be a danger to everyone around her for her entire life. "So, Grue, I know the least of all about you. There has to be a reason that you need all this money."

"There is."

"And do you need more? Or do you need something that can be bought with money."

He hesitated, looked at Tattletale. "I need a respectable job that looks good on paper."

Danny nodded. "That may be pretty easy."

"Not Wards or Protectorate," the black-garbed young man said. "It needs to be reliable, safe, trustworthy."

"That may be less easy, but still doable," Druid said.

"Seriously guys?" Regent blurted out. "You're negotiating like this? With him? With the Protectorate? You gotta be shitting me. Why would you quit this?"

"You're just doing this for fun and money?" Danny asked.

The young man in white and silver shrugged. "Yeah, basically. Why would anyone do anything else if they could do this?"

"What about you, Tattletale?" he asked.

She snorted. "What, join you?"

"There'd be a place for you."

"I've already said no to you before. Schedules, restrictions, clutter, bullshit. It's not my speed. Besides, what would we do, drive around in a van and solve mysteries?"

"Like the mystery of the disfigured parahumans with amnesia?"

"Yeah, like that," she countered. "Jinkies, Rat Man, is there a clue?"

"Actually, there is a clue, they all have the same tattoo," he replied.

Tattletale blinked, her mouth opening to speak, then closing. Then she slowly answered, "Are you serious?"

"I really am. Now you guys have a chat, I've got to call someone about Grue's issue." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number from memory while the Undersiders stepped ten feet away, whispering amongst themselves. Regent seemed pretty pissed.

"Hey, Barry. It's Danny. I've got a favor to ask, and it's a big one. I've got a young man here with management experience that he can't put on a resume."

"Hey, Danny! Can I assume this is official business?"

"It's off-the-books official business."

"Thought so. Hmm, I've got a couple things that could work, but if it goes sour it will really suck for everyone. And it might get connected back to you. Tell you what, I've got a brother-in-law who's doing a lot of the city work for street repairs right now, would he be okay as a foreman on a road crew?"

"Let me check," Danny said. He covered the mouthpiece with his palm. "Hey, Grue! Would you be okay as a foreman for a repair contractor?"

"I..." Grue looked around at the others. "I'd like that. Will I have to go to jail?"

"I'm gonna need a visible win here," Danny said. He pulled some zip ties out of his pockets. "Anyone got a knife?"

Bitch handed him a knife without a word, and he started shaving the teeth off the zip ties. "There. This should hold just enough to look good, but won't restrain anyone. I get a win, and you break out later and make a getaway. And then you call me and I tell you where to go sign the papers and get your job."

Regent shook his head, the mask hiding his expression but his body language portraying almost pained disbelief. "Bro, no, there's a better way."

"I can get Aisha next week if I do this," he said. "And she never needs to go back. This is what I've been working for, A- Regent." He stepped forward, tested the zip ties that Druid handed him, and then put them over his wrists, standing behind the hero.

Bitch crossed her arms again. "I'm gonna need lots of space, to run and ride and stuff. And food for the dogs. And medicine too."

"I can't promise that people won't walk into your land if we set you up," Danny said. "Can you promise me that if they do, you won't kill them?"

"I can't promise that," she said, glaring.

He shrugged. "Okay then. Tattletale, how about a consultant instead of a member?"

She paused, looking at him. "I could do some consulting."

"It wouldn't pay much. But you'd get to see all the most interesting mysteries going on."

She shrugged. "I can basically retire now. If I can keep my hand in and not deal with anyone telling me how to live my life, I'm cool with that."

Danny handed her a filed-down set of zip ties, and then handed Bitch back her knife.

"What the hell?" Regent whined, flinging his hands out to the sides as he stared at Tattletale.

"Beats the Birdcage," she said back.

"What?" Regent blurted. "Oh, c'mon, you're not going to the Birdcage! We can take this guy, he's just one old man with rats, and we've kicked the shit out of bigger enemies than him for our entire career!"

Tattletale shook her head. "It's been a lot of fun, but we never really had a chance here," she said. She glanced over at Druid, and nodded. "Do it."

A bolt of electricity shot down from above, shocking Regent and dropping him where he stood to twitch on the ground. And then massive vines burst from the earth, twining around him in a massive bundle of coils and roots, small leaves springing into the open and dripping sticky sap across the young man. Bitch leaped back, still gripping her knife, the dogs lunging up to flank her.

"It's containment foam in a plastic tube, isn't it?" Tattletale said.

"It is, but it'll fool anyone that expects me to have powers over nature," Druid said.

Bitch looked up, at her teammates in zipties behind him, and the electrocuted teammate on the ground. And she started to work out which direction she was going next. "Wait!" Bitch said. "I told you what I want! You have to give me what I want like you did for them!"

"They both agreed to stop stealing and killing," Danny said. "You couldn't promise me that. And you want me to annex a huge area for you, and ship you supplies on a regular basis for years to come. Your offer is for me to give you stuff, they're both offering to make a trade."

She shook that off like it was water on one of her dogs. "Whatever, I knew I couldn't trust you," she blurted, and started to turn around and march towards her dog. The ground erupted in gouts of flame, cutting her off from the mutants, and then a tide of rats swept her feet out from under her. She landed hard on her back, and a cardinal dive bombed her, releasing a cloud of powder just under her nose while she was gasping for breath.

"Keep her between you and the dogs or they'll murder you," Tattletale advised him. The darkness dissipated, and the world came into light again, he could see all the way to the force-field observation area. The crowd cheered when they saw him still standing. The dogs stuck close to defend their mistress, but with Tattletale's insight he was able to disable them without hurting the dogs trapped inside, and he sent his rats to free the animals from the caul of amniotic fluid they were trapped in.

An hour later Tattletale and Grue escaped custody and disappeared, Regent and Bitch were both sent to trial.