Chapter Fifty-Two: The Blind Leading the Deaf
April 30, 2011
"This could be a critical opportunity," Contract insisted, her tone finally losing the edge of respect that it had maintained up to this point.
Director Piggot, of course, responded by escalating in kind. "Despite what you think, Contract, the world does not revolve around you. There are more than 500 competent people in this building," she spat.
Contract took a deep breath to steady herself and ground out, "I know that."
Director Piggot jumped in before she could continue. "There are another 500 competent people working in Boston."
"I know."
"Good. Remember it." Director Piggot turned away as though the conversation was over. Intrepid glanced at Armsmaster and found the hero was looking back at him. Neither wished to try to break into the discussion. Deputy Renick, standing to the side of Director Piggot's desk managed to sigh inaudibly without drawing either females' attention.
"All due respect ma'am," Contract managed to say with, to her credit, something at least approaching her prior tone of respect, "Circuit asked for my help."
"After you reached out to her," Director Piggot retorted.
Intrepid was so glad that the Director didn't know that it had been his idea to reach out to the Boston Protectorate.
"Regardless of how it came about," Armsmaster finally rumbled, "Circuit has requested this negotiation and has signed off on all the applicable paperwork."
There, Intrepid thought, was the real rub. Contract was going to be meeting with Accord in Boston, under the Boston Protectorate's request, on Accord's terms. Formally, Director Piggot had little power to stop the meeting. He and Contract both had permission from their legal guardians, Armsmaster and Clockblocker had signed off on the orders, and the Boston PRT Director had signed them. Director Piggot had been given a courtesy email at the last minute.
The situation probably would have been less of an issue if the Empire had been caught in New York City before they escaped to Europe. The PRT had decided at the last minute to let them go, in hopes that they would inadvertently reveal more information about some of the Empire's european counterparts. The public, of course, didn't know this. Director Piggot was being heavily criticised by the media, and rumor had it that she had fielded several unpleasant calls from political leaders in America and abroad for letting the Empire slip away and become someone else's problem.
Intrepid wasn't sure if this over-reaction to meeting with Accord was due purely to her bad mood, or if there were other factors involved, but he did know that he was glad she was focusing on Contract, and not on him.
Director Piggot gave Armsmaster a look between a glance and a glare, but the tinker didn't seem to notice. She refocused on Contract instead. "I don't know what impression you've gotten from the Protectorate, but our job is to arrest villains, not to parley with them."
"I was under the impression that our job is to protect civilians and keep the peace."
Director Piggot scowled. She opened a file at the corner of her desk, as though she was going to read from it, but didn't actually reference it, staring down Contract instead. "Accord is guilty of human trafficking, international human trafficking, drug trade both foreign and domestic, enough white collar crimes to fund several third world dictatorships, robberies, heists, disappearances, and bribery and blackmail of public officials. He also sells his gifts to the highest bidders, who are not so restrained."
Contract nodded sagely and managed to say, completely seriously, "I believe it is those habits that Circuit would like me to discuss with him."
A vein in Director Piggot's temple ticked. Intrepid felt a little sorry for her. She had several valid concerns, hidden amongst her general hard-ass protests. Accord was a cold blooded crime lord with an indirect body count that was probably in the triple digits. He made himself just manageable enough to not be worth displacing, but a lesser evil was still evil. It wasn't hard to see why Piggot was less than eager to let two of her Wards walk into the lion's den, even if the lion in question usually kept his claws half-sheathed.
And it wasn't that Intrepid didn't think the bastard had a lot of pain coming his way, karmically. It was just that he didn't see how talking to him could make the situation any worse. Accord had paid Faultline's Crew to get Contract's attention in a very polite way, and consequently had reduced casualties during the brief war with the Empire. In return, he wanted a face-to-face meeting with Contract.
Director Piggot, in her attempt to get the meeting shut down, had managed to get authorization for three thinkers to independently verify Accord's intentions. Although certain types of thinkers could interfere with each other's powers, there was no evidence that Accord had that sort of ability. None of the thinkers consulted had indicated that he wished harm to Contract.
Director Piggot leaned forward, her tone more level but still obviously upset. "Do you honestly believe you will have any effect on a crime lord who has been operating longer than you've been alive?"
"Of course," Contract answered with conviction. "Do I think he'll put on a white hat and shut down his empire entirely? No. But I wouldn't be causing this much trouble for so many people if I didn't think that it would be worth it. Circuit obviously agrees, since she's taking on the logistical headache."
Contract didn't elaborate further, though Director Piggot spread her hands invitingly. After a slightly awkward moment, the older woman turned her attention to Armsmaster instead. "You know Accord's profile," she accused. "You know that he is an unstable psychopath who has killed his own people over nothing but perceived slights. And you intend to send your ward into his base of operations?"
It took Intrepid a moment to realize the singular "ward" was not a mistake: she meant Fi, Armsmaster's legal ward, and not Contract and Intrepid, Armsmaster's cape Wards. The lengths to which everyone went to avoid calling Contract Armsmaster's daughter were almost funny, really.
"Contract is more than capable of protecting herself and Intrepid."
...Which was a great vote of confidence in his own abilities. Thanks Armsmaster, much appreciated. For his part, Intrepid planned to avoid pissing Accord off in the first place.
"Will she even hear the danger coming?" Director Piggot asked pointedly.
Intrepid glanced at Contract, and found her glancing at him in turn. They hadn't explicitly discussed their idea with anyone yet, and now wasn't the appropriate time to do so. There were people in the room not cleared to know exactly how Contract's power operated. Contract prevaricated, "If this is your only objection, Director, then it is one to raise with Circuit and Boston PRT. I assure you, I do not trust Accord. I will not place my life nor Intrepid's in his hands."
Director Piggot relaxed at this, ever so slightly. Then she sighed warily, conceding, "It would appear I cannot stop you." She waved a hand tiredly. "You're dismissed, all of you."
Contract and Intrepid rose together, a moment before Armsmaster's heavy armor could follow. "Thank you, ma'am," Contract said. Director Piggot grunted and turned to her computer, typing. Intrepid led them out of the office. There really wasn't anything more to say.
May 3, 2011
Contract and Intrepid were driven to Boston by a PRT employee, in a PRT vehicle. They spent the time practicing.
Why does that sound vaguely dirty?
Intrepid carefully didn't let his mouth twitch. Contract's mental voice sounded very similar to her audible voice, and distinguishing between the two without looking at her was one of the things they were working on.
It does not, he thought in return. In the corner of his eye, he saw her twitch. Evidently, he tended to "shout" when he tried to direct his thoughts her way. Vaguely, he wondered if he should be disturbed that she was so good at this.
The "telepathy" had actually been his idea. She very much wanted to meet with Accord, and admitted to Intrepid privately that she'd already been mulling over how it might be achieved before Accord had reached out through Faultline. He was a powerful thinker, and as a villain he had managed to establish something approaching a truce with Circuit and the Protectorate. The dynamic fascinated her on a political level.
Even more interesting to her was his thinker ability. She was hopeful that his power would be able to work around the limitations of other thinkers, and that he might be able to help her find more efficient ways to use her power. Of course, she wasn't reckless enough to explain exactly how her power worked to a mastermind villain, not without first establishing if he could be trusted. The hope was that this meeting would be the start of that trust, in addition to possibly mitigating some of his criminal activity.
All that being said, she wasn't obtuse. Meeting with someone as touchy as Accord alone, deaf, and on his home turf was asking for trouble.
Intrepid had helped her brainstorm ideas for mitigating her lack of hearing, but they were extremely hampered by the exact wording of the deal which had altered Eidolon's powers. It wasn't just that she was deaf. It was that she could never and would never hear any audible sound in this world again. If the contract had simply been deafness, they might have been able to negotiate a second deal on top of the first, to add a short time of hearing. But "never" was a powerful word, and it restricted their options.
In the end, they'd come up with two that were most viable. One of the easiest, simplest ideas was to pay for "captions" on the world. Accord didn't want Contract to wear her tinkertech visor, which could have any number of recording or communication programs built into it. But there was no reason that she couldn't have a deal that would temporarily function the same way, without any physical support.
Ultimately, Contract was unwilling to depend on her reading speed. The deal also wouldn't give her Accord's tonality, it wouldn't help her judge the volume and tone of her own voice, and most importantly, it might be noticed by Accord.
Luckily, you're smarter than me.
Intrepid kept looking out to window. Evidently, Contract was capable of following the paths of his musing.
You're blushing, she informed him.
Well, this was my idea. I get to be proud.
Yes, you do. Now sing.
Dutifully, Intrepid focused on the song lyrics playing from the radio. As they were the only thing that he was thinking, and Contract was 'hearing' his thoughts, she was able to hear the song.
Unless Katy Perry has drastically re-written some of her lyrics, you're not actually focusing all that well. I'm pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple f-bombs in there.
Radio version, he reminded her.
Right.
Other than that, how's it going?
Better. I get the impression of some of the music behind the lyrics, now. As long as you don't get lost in your musings, or in listening to me, this should work.
Good, because we're out of time to come up with more options.
He caught a glimpse in the corner of his eye of Contract turning to look at the Boston PRT building as they passed it, headed to parking. They had two hours until their scheduled appointment time with Accord - long enough to get a last-minute update to their briefing from Circuit, finalize their grooming, deal with any last-minute bureaucracy and meet Citrine at the appointed location.
Twice as long as we'll need, you mean.
Intrepid managed not to smile as he climbed out of the PRT vehicle. Never underestimate last-minute bureaucracy.
Accord's office wasn't quite like Intrepid had pictured it, because Intrepid could never be as detail-oriented as the psychopath himself. The carpet was freshly vacuumed, still showing the dark-and-light lines that were left behind just after cleaning. The furniture was centered and symmetric, the window shades were all raised to exactly the same heights, and the door moved completely soundlessly. All the tiny factors that Intrepid would never have noticed except that with all of them given such perfect attention, they drew the eye. It was vaguely creepy.
Not helpful, Intrepid.
Contract walked into the office first, and Intrepid followed behind her, leaving Citrine to shut the door and follow behind him. It was the first time Intrepid had willingly let a villain be behind him outside of an Endbringer fight, and it made his shoulders itch.
Contract crossed the room easily, casually, and Intrepid did his best to imitate her. Accord was already on his feet when they'd entered, and he gestured with one hand to the two chairs sitting in front of his desk.
"Hello," he greeted, his tone completely unreadable.
"Hello, Accord," Contract replied, pausing as she reached the two seats. "My name is Contract." She gestured in his direction. "This is my partner, Intrepid."
Accord took his seat and Contract followed him at the same time. Intrepid stepped up to her shoulder, but didn't sit.
Why aren't you sitting? Contract asked.
Because Citrine isn't. She's here as my mirror, remember. In the negotiations to set up this little meeting, Contract had refused to come if she had to come alone, and Accord had finally allowed Intrepid to join her only if he also had a trusted lieutenant with him. Obviously, Citrine was there to balance him, so he should take his cues from her.
"Welcome," Accord said. He seemed to look at Intrepid for a moment, but the Ward couldn't tell if it was approving or not. "Refreshments?"
Citrine was already at a sidebar, pouring bottled water into tumblers with ice.
"Yes, thank you," Contract answered Accord for them both. Poison? she asked Intrepid.
Unlikely, he replied. Citrine was carrying over a tray with four tumblers. Intrepid took two, and handed one to Contract. Citrine set a tumbler just out of Accord's immediate reach, on a prepared wooden coaster that perfectly matched the desk and chairs, before she put away the tray and stepped up to Accord's shoulder, holding her own glass.
I think I'm supposed to stay standing, Intrepid thought.
Only if you don't mind, Contract insisted.
Intrepid was warmed by her consideration, but there were more important things right now than a little power play. Intrepid remained in his on-guard position behind her shoulder.
"You're welcome," Accord said, while Contract sipped a little from her water. "I admit, I am impressed." His eyes flicked toward Intrepid, and the young hero forced himself not to bristle at the "good dog" undertone the words carried.
Contract smiled in a way that might be mistaken as soft, for those who didn't know her. "I requested Intrepid specifically because he is a good friend, in every way." She seemed determined to defend him, even when it wasn't necessary.
Accord nodded, seeming satisfied. "I rarely find those willing to know their place."
Again, Intrepid let the insult slide past. How long were they going to talk about his decision of where to stand?
Contract, it seemed, was not quite as willing to play Accord's game. Her brow furrowed as she answered in a deceptively mild tone, "Citrine is not here as decoration. At every moment she is evaluating the situation, making decisions, making judgement calls. You trust her to know her role, to know your abilities, to know how and when she might and must act. So, too, do I trust Intrepid."
"You do, but I don't," Accord gently rebuked.
"Then trust my judgement, as I am trusting yours."
Accord didn't look pleased at that. Careful, Contract, Intrepid warned her. Before he could convince her to apologize, Accord took a sip of water, which Contract mirrored. "To business then," he suggested.
"Of course," she agreed, but offered nothing more.
"Tell me about New York City," he requested.
Contract took another sip, considering her words. Finally, she spoke. "I was in the area for concerns of my own, attempting to track an item of personal relevance. Earlier in the day I had discovered that my quarry was likely already in Europe, having been sold at auction three weeks before.
"I returned to my hotel to pack my things so I could leave the city, and then went to an underground casino to make a bit of quick money. That's where I was when the Endbringer alarms sounded. I slipped away from the crowd, masked up, and proceeded to the gathering location as a cape. I was deployed by Dragon defensively, not in the line of fire but not far from it, either."
She stopped to take another small sip. Intrepid forced himself not to fidget. Behind Accord, Citrine hadn't moved since she arrived in her position. Accord himself merely listened, fingers still steepled. He was impossible to read, but he didn't seem displeased.
Contract continued, "I was surprised when Behemoth actually appeared. I had expected to sense him coming, and I didn't. Nonetheless, I attempted to exercise my power in three ways, each with progressively more dangerous side effects. All of them failed, with no effect against him. For the final possible solution, I needed help. I used Dragon's armband to request a flier, someone who could take me up above Behemoth.
"Intrepid was behind me only moments later. As I understand it, he was already in the building, and overheard my request to Dragon directly. He was not sent to my aid. Regardless, he lifted me. We flew up over the city, and I prepared my last attack. When we were in position, I completed it and passed out. When I awoke, I was in the hospital, already healed by Panacea."
Accord absorbed all of that very calmly, if his mask was true to the face beneath it. It was an interesting mix of facts and details that Contract had chosen. She was obviously trying to pique his interest in a particular fashion.
"You've been healed by Panacea, and yet you remain deaf," Accord observed.
Contract sidestepped the true explanation. "The deafness is centered in my ability to process sound mentally. Unlike many who are deaf, I do not hear any ambient noise nor other sounds, no matter how loud. My brain simply doesn't register the sensual input. There's nothing for Panacea to heal."
Careful lying to a thinker, Intrepid cautioned, even as Accord said, "I've never heard of such an injury."
Contract cocked her head, just slightly. Just as Intrepid was trying to recall exactly what Accord had said and how, so he could repeat it in case she'd gotten a jumbled message she answered, "Injury is… misleading." She took a sip of water.
Accord carefully curled his left-hand fingers into a fist. "I don't appreciate games."
Cut it out, Contract. Don't piss him off!
Contract lowered the tumbler of water and spoke more directly, "I am not attempting to play a game, merely choosing my words carefully." To Intrepid she thought, I'm just making him work for it.
Well, not too hard. He's a sociopath.
Contract continued her conversation with Accord, but Intrepid caught a hint of agreement, as though she'd conceded the argument. "My apologies. I have given considerable thought to how I would explain this to you. Now that I am here, however, it is… difficult. This will be the first time I have explained my powers when deaf. Without the ability to be completely sure of your reaction, I must be even more careful of my words."
Accord breathed out evenly and deeply, and Intrepid wondered if he was suppressing violence. He put a hand on Contract's shoulder in a gesture of visible support and caution. Why are you still pushing him?
Contract glanced up, as though her gaze had been drawn by the physical contact. Because I want him to value the information.
Contract looked back to Accord. "Intrepid knows the details of my power. Would you permit him the honor?"
Intrepid was pretty sure Accord was grinding his teeth now. "Speak, and if clarification is required then he may answer in your place."
Contract inclined her head gravely. "My power is about balance," she said at last. "I give up something I want, and I gain something I want. It's always a contract with at least two clauses, and it is always, always in balance."
Intrepid could almost see Accord considering that carefully. "In balance, according to the scale of your own emotions, then."
Contract's tone remained even, but he could feel a hint of defensiveness about her, without being sure how he knew it was there. Through their temporary bond, perhaps? "I didn't choose my power, or its exact mechanics."
"No," Accord sighed almost regretfully. Mordor, Contract flashed to Intrepid. He bought his powers. I thought so. Accord spoke again, so Intrepid chose to listen rather than answer her. "Would you demonstrate it?"
"I could. If you wish."
"Yes."
Even braced for what was coming, it shocked him.
It happened between one blink and the next. The vacuum lines, which had been visible in the carpet, disappeared as all the fibers were suddenly bent in the same direction. The dust motes by the window were gone, the thinnest film of dust that had accumulated since the cleaning that morning vanished from the surface of the desk. His clothes, everyone's clothes, were pressed and straightened. The water tumblers all magically refilled to precisely the top of the etching on the glasses. The glass in the window became a little more opaque, letting in just a touch less sunlight to balance the internal lighting in the ceiling.
And Intrepid had thought the room was perfect before.
For his part, Intrepid forced himself not to move or react as much as possible, though he knew he was standing more stiffly. His ribs hurt, damn it. He and Contract had discussed the very high probability that Accord would want a demonstration of power, and Intrepid had explicitly told Contract to share every cost with him. He did not want her to carry a handicap he didn't know about. It was even a part of the deal that let them hear each other - for as long as they were connected, they would share every deal too.
In this case, the cost felt like he'd been kicked in the chest with Gallant's power armor.
Aloud, Contract explained to both Accord and Intrepid, "No physical harm, just pain, and that will pass. But nothing in this world is free. As the legends say - all magic comes with a cost."
"Thank you," Accord said, nodding to them both.
Need to sit? Contract asked Intrepid.
I think it's actually easier to keep standing, he admitted.
"You're welcome," Contract answered Accord serenely and seamlessly. "You didn't want to see me just for this, however."
"No. Of course not. I wanted to discuss Boston with you." Contract nodded, but didn't volunteer anything to move the conversation forward. It was left to Accord to continue. "I imagine you have your reasons for not repeating the remarkable feat you accomplished in New York City."
Contract sighed heavily. "The few cost ideas I have come up with that would be sufficient are not the sort to be taken lightly."
Accord pursed his lips. "So I suspected."
"Was this all?"
He shook his head. "No. There is something I wanted to show you." Citrine took the cue. She walked over to the sideboard and retrieved a thick binder which she brought back to Contract.
Contract took it in both hands, and examined it. It was at least four inches thick, professionally compiled in a faux-leather cover. She opened it, read the title page, the abstract, and then scanned the table of contents and figures. As she did, Intrepid was able to pick up little snippets.
… Expansion of production capacity… control of growth industry… unity required in order to ensure… resource allocation in case of… advancement for the purpose…Correlation of gross median income with… quality of life and health of… projected outlook...
She stopped when she reached the end of the title pages. Intrepid couldn't read over her shoulder, but when she'd flipped backwards in the binder she read what she'd found mentally to them both.
Applicability of Wide-Scale Anti-Entropy.
Powers, taken as a whole, suggest that entropy is not always increasing… in particular, the events of New York City imply that entropy can be reversed on a macroscopic… may even be possible to advance into utopian civilization given proper mingling and merging of gifts which… Such a thing, if accomplished, would not only provide stability, safety, order, and health to the present population of the world but also enable the creation of self-sustaining cycles outside of entropy if...
Intrepid could see why this had caught her interest. Is he trying to fix the whole world, like you did New York?
This is much bigger than that. He thinks he can fix the physical world, and also culture, society, personality conflicts, everything. He thinks he can build heaven, here on earth.
Why don't you sound excited? Intrepid asked, while she flipped a page as though she was still reading.
He's vastly misunderstood my power. And he thinks powers in general are safe to play with.
Isn't it worth the risk?
There was a grudging silence, before she finally conceded, Maybe.
"An admirable beginning," Contract finally said aloud, closing the binder reverently and placing it on her lap. "I had heard that you were dangerous, but this is… breathtaking."
Accord again steepled his fingers in front of himself, watching her carefully. He seemed to have forgiven or forgotten her earlier faux pas. "Will you do it?"
"No. Not like this. Your conclusions are good, given the data you had access to, but not perfect. You drastically overestimated the conversation efficiency." It seemed that Contract had gotten a lot more out of that graph on the third page than Intrepid had.
"Did I?" Accord asked lightly.
"My power is not designed to use matter or energy as a cost. I have a good enough grasp of physics that it can be done, but it is extremely inefficient. Given Behemoth's size and apparent durability, I expected to see a restoration radius of approximately 50 ft. Furthermore, the efficiency conversation decays exponentially as the affected mass increases. For it to have affected 266 cubic miles in a city like New York?" She shook her head.
Accord was much quicker with the mental math than Intrepid was. "Behemoth had the mass of a large moon."
"Or a small planet," Contract said in agreement. Intrepid saw something twitch in Accord's face and warned Contract, Don't start sentences with conjunctions. Contract managed to continue flawlessly, "I haven't really wanted to know the answer, so I haven't done the detailed math. There is no practical way to repeat what I did in New York with either mass or energy as the price."
Accord didn't seem deterred by her vagueness. "What do you think of the rest of the plan?"
"Workable. Probably. Again, it needs to be redressed in light of my actual power mechanics. Namely, I imagine the section about power cooperation will need to be reexamined entirely. Despite what I told the media, Eidolon was only incidental to the destruction of the second two Endbringers, and Behemoth being a dynokinetic was poetic justice but not necessary."
Accord was frowning heavily, annoyed by her analysis. I don't think he likes you throwing out chunks of data, Intrepid warned her.
Should I lie? she shot back.
Give him something, Intrepid insisted.
"You're one of the best thinkers in the world. Maybe even the best. I have no doubt that you can make this plan workable, given better data. With the limited information you had, I'm impressed you got this far."
You're still speaking in incomplete sentences and bad grammar.
Accord was placated though, if only slightly. He took another sip of water, and some tension seemed to leave him as he swallowed. Speaking carefully he asked, "If the plan is adjusted, will you do it?"
She stroked the black binder cover, thinking. Ready for the real negotiation?
Bring it on, Intrepid thought, happy to be distracted from his pain. With that thought, his ribs flared slightly and Intrepid let out his breath carefully. Ow. Just how badly had Contract wanted to clean Accord's office? The pain was fading, as she'd predicted, but not as fast as he'd expected.
"I will consider it," Contract told Accord. "A plan like this could do a lot of good. But I know better than most that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I don't intend to stumble down it blindly. Neither of us have the authority to dictate global politics or reorder millions of lives like your plan requires."
Accord's hands were curling into fists, but he managed to speak calmly. "What do you propose?"
"Why does this have to be executed from the shadows? Why not use me as a front for the plan? I have a meeting pending with the President of the United States. I could hand-deliver a briefing to him in person. I could be your face to him, and to the rest of the world."
Accord drank again, weighing her. What's the plan? Intrepid asked, watching Accord for any sign of imminent violence. At the moment, he just seemed thoughtful.
No stick, just carrot. I bring his plan into the light, he stops all criminal activity. After all, I can't be associating with anyone or anything that could harm the plan.
You think that will work?
Depends on how badly he wants this.
Accord leaned forward, and Contract mirrored his posture. "And I suppose in gratitude I am to immediately cease all criminal activity?"
Contract tipped her head. "I'm no idealist, Accord. I know there would be complications to pulling the plug on everything immediately. But the human trafficking? Yes, that has to stop. And a good portion of the drug trade too, as soon as it might be feasible."
"Drugs are profitable, and the market will simply turn elsewhere," Accord countered.
Contract waved the hand not holding her water glass. "We can quibble over details later. What matters is if we even have a basis for discussion."
Accord nodded. "I understand. Very well, we can discuss practicalities."
Contract held up a finger. "I have another question for you about the plan. I'm sure you've thought of it, but I didn't see it addressed in the table of contents. Would you mind answering, rather than having me read this whole document right now?"
Accord gritted his teeth, but forced a smile and asked, "What is it?"
"Scion."
The name sat between them for a moment, the atmosphere suddenly and unexpectedly heavy. Intrepid carefully refrained from shifting uncomfortably, and forced himself not to send Contract any stray thoughts either. She was entirely focused on Accord, and he on her.
Accord glanced away first, swirling the ice cubes in his tumbler with a twitch of his wrist, leaning back in his chair in a small retreat. "The golden man is irrelevant to the plan."
Contract actually snorted in response, and from Accord's harsh glare he didn't appreciate it. "Don't patronize me, Accord. Scion is the single most volatile and influential individual in the world. Any plan for the future of the world, for shaping the world, ought to account for him."
Accord set his glass down with a hint of finality. "The plan will work as written."
"As it's currently written, you need my help."
Is pushing him really wise? Intrepid asked during the silence that followed, as the two capes weighed each other.
He's not going to kill me.
Saying it doesn't make it so, he answered just as deadpan.
In answer, Contract broke eye contact with Accord, looking down at the plan in her lap instead. She tapped a finger on the cover for emphasis. "This is going to save the world. We are going to save the world," she said, as though it was already a done deal. "I'd hate to see it fall apart because we didn't account for such an obvious force of nature."
Accord softened, her surrender enough to placate whatever whim Contract had previously upset. "Scion is not predictable, but he is a hero. He will only accelerate the timeline."
Contract hummed softly. Should I take a risk, or back down?
Intrepid considered Accord, and Citrine behind him. Both seemed calm, now. Take a medium risk, but only if you do it respectfully. He's not got a lot of rope left.
"I would prefer to have some understanding of Scion's nature. What does he value? Why is he capricious and unpredictable? But if this is truly impossible…" she looked up to meet Accord's gaze through his mask. "Then let's talk terms."