Chapter Four: The Wicked Man

"Crazy kids." Cayde-6 chuckled to himself as he wound his way around a series of thick pipes wet with condensation in the dark between floors of the Tower. He took careful steps among the chugging machinery in the nooks and crannies of the crawlspace, wiping the thick dust from his optics.

It had been too long since he had taken this route. Proved first and foremost, of course, by the accumulation of dust and detritus littering the ground. Not to mention the blockage topside that he had only managed to get past with the help of a few generous patsies like Fireteam Pluto. Nevertheless he couldn't deny how good it felt to be striking out on his own again after so long cooped up with the other vanguards. They were good people, he knew, just not his people.

He sighed as he came to the end of the passage beneath the floors. He pressed his gloved metal palms against the cold steel panel in front of him, testing it with a few light pushes before he shoved it open, forcing its rusting hinges and sending a single screeching whine echoing through the passage behind him. The panel swung open and he at last stepped into a small square room with pockmarked sheets of metal covering the walls and only giving a suggestion of hiding the many cables and pipes that lined them. On the far side of the room was a thick hatch secured tightly.

Cayde-6's boots clanked softly beneath him as the steam from a newly ruptured pipe whistled its soft song through a hairline crack from below. He thought he heard a strange electric crackle and an accompanying hum from above him. He took the locking bar on the hatch in hand and lifted up and pulled out to unlock it. He pushed it open gingerly and it swung wide with the sudden intrusion of intense wind flooding the once-still air of the small room. Cayde held his ground and waited for the gust to pass before walking forward. He stopped in the doorway and admired the sight of the City beneath the clouds. Outside the opening a series of ladder rungs with a semicircular safety cage around them were bolted directly into the wall and led down a ways before hitting a landing and continuing on in droning madness all the way down. Well, almost all the way down, he reminded himself. "Poor kids." He shook his head.

He took in the view for another second before appraising his gear. He patted the knives hidden in his sleeves, the pistol on his hip, and most importantly, the magnetic grappling cables coiled into compartments on his belt. As always, he backed up to get a running start, and after a split-second sprint he leapt from the open hatch and into the sky, arms spread wide as he twisted midair into a proper dive.

Cayde watched as the City's pavement rushed closer to him with each passing instant, tasted the velocity of his descent upon nonexistent-or perhaps hyper-realized-tastebuds. The wind whistled. He fell through the clouds that hung lazily in the night. The amber lights of the street lamps and fluorescent glow of late-night office workers glinted and sparkled beautifully. He relished these moments. He was able to live, to be human, without all the pesky limitations. He almost laughed. No rushing wind could get caught in his lungs, no dust or agitation could reduce him to tears. In these moments, he mused, it was so much better to be made of metal.

With a swift motion he reached down, unhooked his grappling cable, found the weighted end, and threw it across the way. It found its mark and wrapped around a support pillar of the Tower. He held tight and he was jerked down hard when it caught his weight. He swung out toward the city, released the magnetic charge on the cable, and dropped again as it was swiftly recalled back to the coil on his belt. He reached for the one on his left side and repeated the process, this time latching the end onto the facade of a skyscraper and using his momentum to careen around it.

He kept going, swinging through the business and entertainment districts of the City with grace and ease with his magnetic grappling hooks. The wind rushed by and his velocity slowed with each successively lower swing.

Cayde eyed his destination, a rooftop that was low enough to drop down into the streets, just on the edge of the clustered business district. He kicked his legs out and leapt high into the air directly above it. He fell through the air down toward it until both of his grappling coils had sufficiently recoiled themselves, then shot both of them out to latch onto neighboring buildings. He pulled them each taut and used the sudden change in momentum to stop his fall completely. In the darkening night he hung over the rooftops suspended between two wires like a spider. He eased them loose in his grips and let them gingerly carry him to the roof, landing lightly on the squat brick building and straightening his cloak out.

"Well," He looked down to the alley below, easily a thirty foot drop, and vaulted over the edge of the roof without a second thought, landing in the alley and rolling with his shoulder to spread out the impact. He looked around, his cyan optics taking in the sights. Broken chainlink fences, dirty brick facades that might have once been red. Cracked and worn down pavement. Deep puddles of standing water. "That was fun."

He hummed to himself as he strode down the alley and toward the street. After that show, he knew that what he was looking for was sure to find him.

The hunter vanguard wove his way down the increasingly labyrinthian streets and alleys toward the edges of the City, away from the prying eyes of the Tower and separated by the inner walls from the posh upper class districts. With each passing block the buildings grew squatter, longer, and more weather-worn. A few were boarded up, but curious eyes followed him from behind the barriers. Despite the ominous appearance of the place, however, it was bustling with human activity even as the day gave way to night. Men and women rushed by on their way home carrying bundles of food for their supper, children played and watched in awe as he strode past.

Cayde's optics scanned the crowds and the buildings. The stares were normal this far out from the Tower. He gave friendly waves to the children brave enough to maintain eye contact with him. Not only was he a guardian, already a rare sight in the slums, but he was an exo. His kind were a rare breed, all almost exclusively guardians and most destined to never step foot in the darkest parts of humanity's last bastion.

A glint of light on a tiny object from a buzzing street lamp caught his attention. He glanced to it, but it was gone by the time he looked its way. "Hmm." He kept on down the road, one hand on his hip. "Looks like I'm on the right track."

He felt a slight tug on his tattered brown cloak and turned on his heel swiftly, nearly reaching for his pistol in its holster at his left hip before he saw a small child, a girl, grabbing at his cloak with dirty hands. She let out a surprised yelp when he turned around and seemed to tower over her.

He cocked his head to the side slightly. The girl did not move, likely frozen in fear. She was pale, thin, with her brown hair cut short and her big brown eyes wide with fright. She couldn't have been more than ten years old. Without a pause he dropped down to one knee to look her in the eye, his hands resting upon his knee. The streets were emptying now as people found their way to the safety of their homes. Nonetheless, a sizable enough crowd had gathered around to watch this strange interaction.

The girl tried to speak, but found the words difficult to find. Cayde looked over her shoulder to see a group of other children, girls and boys alike, huddled and watching more fervently than the others.

"Uhh, uhm, m-mister robot guardian," She stammered, clasping her hands in front of her chest nervously. Her clothes were old and tattered, her pants may well have been more patches than their original material, but they were not incredibly dirty.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Cayde asked softly, paying no mind at all to the milling crowd around them.

She seemed to gather her courage, or perhaps reacted well to his courtesy. "Uh, mister robot guardian, sir." She stood a little straighter and tried to smile, showing off a gap tooth and a prominent underbite. She paused again, this time as if wondering how to continue.

Cayde chuckled and took the time to speak, "Please, mister robot guardian was my father. Just call me uncle Cayde. I promise I won't bite."

The girl nodded. "We was wondering," She looked to her friends over her shoulder, "If you're a robot guy, do you get cold?"

He took a moment to process the question. "Well, I suppose you could say that." He looked up toward the Tower. From here it could only barely be seen rising above a wall in the distance. "It gets real cold up where I live, so everyone wears a lot of layers." He looked back to her and held out his hand as if in greeting. She took it after a moment. "And even through my gloves you can tell I'm a little chilly. See, us robot guys," He said with the inflection of a smirk, "We're made of metal, so we're always cold." He tapped his forehead with his knuckles to produce a satisfying clanking sound.

"But do you ever feel cold?" She asked, and reached out to touch his forehead.

"Every day." Cayde answered simply.

"Oh." She pulled her hand away. "Mister Cayde, do you like being a guardian?"

"Most days."

"What about the bad days?"

Now the group of children had inched up closer to hear the conversation. He looked around, noting the few adults milling about only vaguely watching them from the corners of their eyes. They must have been the parents.

"On the bad days I just have to remind myself that tomorrow could be a good day."

"Do you get to kill a lot of aliens?"

He mused. "Not much anymore. See, I got roped into a desk job for a while. But when I was out doing missions, yeah. I killed a lot of bad guys."

"Oh." She nodded.

"Hey," He straightened his spine a little. "You never introduced yourself, young lady." He took on a sassy tone of voice, "Isn't that rude?"

"Oh! Sorry mister uncle Cayde! I'm Grit!" She smiled wide again.

"Grit, huh?" He was clearly amused. "That's not a very common name, I don't think."

"It's short for Margaret. But I don't like being called Maggie or Marge." She explained with all the confidence and surety a ten year old girl could muster.

"Now it all makes sense. Nice to meet you, Grit. Ha." He shook his head slightly. He took a glance up to the buildings around them. Most were lucky to have a proper second floor. He caught a glimpse of a small metal object that seemed to slide just out of view on a roof when he spotted it.

"Margaret!" A woman called out from a doorway the next house down. "Margaret, get in! It's dark!" She had the same pale skin and brown hair as Margaret, but a different nose-bigger and more hooked. Cayde figured she was the girl's mother.

All of a sudden the group of children scattered like leaves in all directions, scurrying through the alleys and roads to return to their homes, some escorted by their parents, as if suddenly reminded of their own curfews. Soon it was only the two of them left in the street, Cayde still bent on one knee.

Grit gave a glance to her mother and waved slightly. Then she turned back to Cayde, "I have to go now."

"Me too." Cayde agreed.

"One more question." She crossed her arms in front of her now. "Okay?"

Cayde laughed and pointed at her with his fingers made into a fake gun. "Shoot."

"Do you think I could be a guardian like you?" Grit kept her smile a little more contained now, only barely curling her lips.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. No one's a guardian like me." He reached out and tousled her hair. "But work hard, kid, and you could be a guardian like you some day." His words were warm, kind, and hopeful. But he dreaded the thought of her becoming a guardian. It was, after all, necessitated by death.

"Margaret! Leave the man alone! He's busy!" The woman had stepped out of the house and was watching the two of them from the street now. The amber lights of the street lamps flicked on slowly, one by one down the line. A few here and there refused to light at all.

"Well, you gotta get." Cayde looked over to Grit's mother and offered a wave. Then he reached into a pouch on his belt and produced a coin from it, old and tarnished with age. He held it out to Grit to see both sides, which each sported the same stamped portrait of a long forgotten and nearly unrecognizable woman, before pressing it into her palm. "Take it, one of my lucky coins. If you ever need to make a tough decision, or really need to win a bet, flip it. Oh, and don't spend it anywhere. It's, you know, not legal tender anymore."

Grit grinned and clutched the coin close to her, nearly shaking with glee as she nodded fervently. "Yeah, mister uncle Cayde! Thank you!"

Cayde rose up to stand and patted her on the head softly. "Of course, sweetheart." Then he lightly took her by the shoulders and turned her around, ushering her toward her waiting mother. "And don't lose it!"

"I won't!" The girl nearly ran back to her mother and darted in the house, no doubt to hide away her new gift. Cayde watched her go for a moment.

"Kids, right?" He asked rhetorically, but her mother had already followed into the house, and Cayde was left alone on the street. Well, he amended, mostly alone. He turned around to continue down the road again.

A man leaned against the wooden wall of the next house, bathed in the darkness of the night and of the alley he was tucked into. His voice was chipper, tinted with the slightest unplaceable accent. "Always were a sucker for the tykes, weren'tcha?"

Cayde pressed his back to the other wall that comprised the corner of the building, looking out to the street in its near silent amber glow. "You know, I'd rephrase that to sound less creepy."

"You caused a stir." The man continued, not caring to dignify Cayde's response with any measure of attention at all. "Almost like you wanted to be found."

"That's how your kind works." Cayde huffed. "I could scour the City up and down and never find you guys. But I make show, swing around and draw a crowd, and all of a sudden you're coming to me. It's a surprisingly effective method."

"Don't get smart. Whatcha want?" The man was growing agitated.

Cayde rolled his optics. "I need to see your boss."

The man straightened up and took a step back into the alley. "What about?"

"Gehenna." Cayde responded simply.

"She don't like getting business calls off the street."

Cayde slid around the corner and stared the man down. He was several inches shorter, with unkempt black hair and beady eyes, a scraggly beard and wore a shabby, ill-fitted suit. Cayde recognized him after a moment of furious recollection as the informant he had met last time, Ezekiel. "Look, Zeke, I need to see the Black Dragon immediately, on the authority of the Tower. So, we can do it the easy way or the hard way." He took a step closer, arms crossed. "Either you can take me to her, or we can see who can break more bones in each others' bodies." Another step brought him face to face with the man. "And I bet you I'm gonna win that one, Zeke."

Zeke, for his part, did not back down from the challenging gaze. At last he relented. "She's expectin' ya, anyway. Come on."

"That's more like it." Cayde nodded in appreciation and followed Zeke down the alleyway into the shadows.

/-/-/

"Through here." Zeke whispered. The walk had been relatively short, but confusingly winding through the already haphazardly arranged shanty town homes. He led the way through a worm-eaten wooden fence and to a decrepit two-story home in the middle of a cluster of similarly seemingly abandoned houses. He stopped on the porch and waited for the hunter to follow.

"So this is where you're holed up now?" Cayde mused, wincing at every strained creak of rotting wood underneath. "How quaint."

"Gotta move around to keep alive." Zeke shrugged and knocked on the front door with a series of raps that sounded suspiciously like a code. Flakes of pale green paint fell to the ground in front of it. After a moment the door swung open. Inside was pitch black. Zeke did not move from his position on the porch, and seemed to refuse to look inside the house. "All right, there ya go." He said simply as he hastily descended the front stairs and wound his way through the neighborhood. Cayde did not waste time watching him leave.

Cayde stared into the empty, abysmal house for a moment, and it seemed to stare back. He took a tentative step inside, grabbing onto the doorframe with his right hand as he did. The first footfall was ominously silent, but he chalked it up to his nervousness. He scanned the room, but not a single shape of either furniture or architecture could be made out. He took another step.

"Flower, a little light?" He muttered as he stood stark still in the entrance to the house, listening intently for any sounds out of the ordinary.

His ghost, a plain cloud-gray one with a pastel pink eye core, materialized in front of him and appeared to look around in the dark. It let out a decidedly artificial whistle in surprise. "What did you get yourself into?" Its voice was a deep baritone.

"Business." Cayde answered shortly, then looked to his ghost. It was the only thing in the cloying shadows that was emanating any light, in a faint glow for now, at all. "Now get on it."

"I have a bad feeling about this." Flower responded, but nonetheless its core flared up and sent piercing light through the dark, pulling its gray chassis tight around its core to focus the light into a beam.

"No one asked you, anyway." When Cayde reached out and grabbed the ghost it made no objections and allowed him to use it as a flashlight.

At last the grasp of blackness loosened on the room. It was devoid of any and all furniture after all, though it did sport a single moth-eaten rug in the center of the living room floor. He shone the ghost's light around the room to gain his bearings. To the left was the living room, beyond it was what looked to be a kitchen separated only by a halfway-collapsed wall. To the right was a short hallway with a series of doors leading to what Cayde could only assume were bathrooms and closets. Directly ahead of him was a steep, narrow staircase that rose up further into the darkness. He gingerly stepped forward and ascended a single step, testing his weight on it before giving it any modicum of trust to do its job. Satisfied, he began his steady climb to the second floor.

It was eerily similar to his first meeting with the enigmatic Black Dragon a year ago. The same crushing weight of shadows and silence that only seemed to increase in pressure as one delved deeper into the place had not diminished.

"I have been waiting for you." A voice called softly, feminine and seductively penetrating. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. In front of him, whispered in his ear, from the next room, and from across time and space all at once.

He shuddered.

"What have you come for tonight, Cayde?" She asked, this time from a more focused direction-just ahead of him and to the left. He shone his ghost's light toward it and down a decrepit hallway. He could almost feel fingertips tracing a line along his metal jaw.

This hallway was short and lacked any features beyond the flaking paint, warped floors and bowing ceiling that the rest of the house sported. At the end of it was a single door that was left ajar and slightly skewed on loose hinges. He strode forward, keeping his free hand on the wall, as if touching it would somehow offer him protection, or at the very least, peace of mind.

He pushed the door open fully and stepped inside. The light caught thousands of gleaming metal pieces like the steel scales of a mighty beast when he shone it upon them, sending glinting refractions scattered about the room, thus illuminating even more of the things. Each wall, the ceiling and floor of this room was covered in the metallic scales, and they seemed to move and undulate as if alive. He lifted his boot and looked down, appalled to see more of them moving underfoot to fill the gap. He stepped down again and thought he might crush them, but the carpet of scales was stronger than he might have thought.

"Are you frightened?" She asked, concern rising in her voice. "I could dismiss them, if you would prefer."

Cayde took a moment to regain his composure, lifted his other foot, and allowed the moving-or living?-things to scurry into place. "Oh, no. This is just new, that's all."

"It has been some time." She agreed. "Shine your light here."

This time he felt a definitive presence brush against his metal cheek, gently turning his head to the right. He did as he was bade and pointed his ghost to the center of the room. The form of a human woman, slender and sitting cross-legged on the floor, was made apparent. She was dressed casually in a white shirt and loose brown pants, and she was barefoot. Her skin was light like alabaster, her long hair a bright orange-red like fire that hung down over her shoulders, and her eyes a shining blue, barely visible as she squinted at the sudden intrusion of the ghost's beam upon her face. She wore a thin black metal band around her head that rose up in ten points like a crown.

Cayde stepped forward and pointed the ghost's light away from her face, instead sending it up toward the ceiling to illuminate the entire room, albeit weakly. He studied her features as she adjusted to the dim light. The surroundings were different, but she was the same person he had met before. This was the Black Dragon, indeed.

The scales lining the room gently undulated in constant motion as if agitated and restless, but did not move from their places. It unnerved him.

"What do you seek?" She asked him as he first took a knee, and then sat down cross-legged across from her. "Perhaps to join me in mediation?" She asked almost hopefully.

He waited a palpable moment as he straightened his cloak around him. "Gehenna." He said finally.

"Old business? I had such high expectations for you." She twisted her thin lips into a frown. "I digress. We can discuss them."

"I want them back." Cayde locked eyes with her, but found it taxing to maintain eye contact and instead opted to shut his optics between those moments. "I need them back."

"They are currently away on an errand for me. Why is it you are so desperate for them?" The Black Dragon asked with genuine curiosity.

He forced his voice to remain steady. "As much as I would like to think otherwise, I know that you know."

"Ah."

He opened his optics again. She had not lost her look of general disdain. "Say it."

"Judas." She responded immediately. "He has returned and you see no other recourse than Gehenna." She shifted her weight on the floor, sitting up straighter and resting her hands on her knees. "A sentimental, even romantic notion, to be sure. But I cannot rightfully renege on an agreement we have made."

"Then we can make a new agreement." Cayde suggested almost too quickly.

"I am listening."

"Both sides of the last one get tossed out."

"Intriguing." Her lips twitched upward ever so subtly.

"With this new one, I get back my hunters." He sighed and tapped his right index finger upon his knee in thought.

She nodded once. "They will be yours if you can offer acceptable terms to me."

He shook his head and looked back to her. "Your entire operation, how big do you think it is?"

"A strange question."

"Answer it."

She raised up an eyebrow in surprise, but indulged him nonetheless. "Much of the City."

"But not all?"

"No, not all. The investigations have made growth slow."

"And nothing off-world since our last meeting?" He lowered his head again, waiting for her response.

"I am a woman of my word."

He nodded. "Give me back my hunters, and you can resume your off-world correspondence. And I'll get the Vanguard investigations into your operation called off."

She let his offer hang as she seemed to ponder its ramifications. "A bold offer."

"Would you have settled for any less?"

"Possibly." She shrugged, "But we will not know. I accept your terms, Cayde-6." She reached out with her right hand and took his when he returned the gesture. She shook firmly once and released him from her surprisingly strong grip.

"Now, where are they?" Cayde asked.

"I will have them report to you in the Tower as soon as they return from their task."

"No, no, no." Cayde shook his head and raised his hands up. "I can't have them anywhere near the Tower. I'll go and pick them up myself. Where are they?"

The Black Dragon frowned again. "I see. You can find them in Old Accra."

"Hmm." Cayde took a moment to think. "Digging up Golden Age secrets?"

"Wresting it from undesirable hands, more like. I will send word and they will patiently await your arrival." She smirked again. "You are quite welcome, Cayde-6."

Cayde nodded and rose to his feet, bringing his ghost and its light with him. He nodded down to the Black Dragon. "Thank you." He turned and walked away, leaving her sitting on the floor, meditating in the dark among her living room of metal scales.

As the hunter vanguard and Speaker of the Traveler descended the staircase he could feel the intense pressure tightening around his chest and weighing on his shoulders progressively lift and ease his mind with each successive step away from the Black Dragon. He nearly rushed out into the open air of the City's poor districts. He looked up to the night sky and the full moon glowing bright white far above the Tower and the broken Traveler, all so refreshingly bright.

"What now?" His ghost, Flower, asked him from inside his head.

"Simple." He responded out loud. "We get the band back together."

II

He shook off the cold chill of the midnight wind and stepped inside the dilapidated wooden house bathed in darkness. He paused only long enough to straighten his long black coat's collar and to pull off his helmet, rounded and painted black with a V-shaped opaque black visor. He did not bother looking about the room. His destination was upstairs.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he ascended swiftly. The world was black all around him but he could see perfectly through the alien transplant he had given himself. He reached the top of the old staircase and turned to the right down a short hallway.

"Another lost sheep?" A feminine voice, cool and distant, seemed to echo throughout the entire house, from in front and behind him simultaneously.

He remained silent and stood in front of the bedroom door that was left ajar.

"Or perhaps a misguided shepherd?" This time the words seemed to dig into his mind from every direction, but it was not painful. A blatant and unwanted intrusion, he thought, but not wholly unpleasant. He shuddered. "Enter."

He pushed open the door and stepped into the room without any hesitation or second thoughts. Every single surface in the barren room was coated in softly undulating metal scales no longer than a finger. They seemed to all still at his entrance and press themselves flatter against the wall. He looked to the center of the room to see a slender human woman sitting cross legged on the low, bowing ceiling. She opened her eyes and seemed to be able to see him perfectly well even in the suffocating darkness. She spoke, now abandoning the grandeur of psychic invasion and opting for the more mundane form of vocalization.

"You are the second man to seek me out this night. Perhaps a turning point is in order for your kind?" She smirked, though the angle made it look like a frown to his eyes. The upside-down woman remained perfectly still upon the ceiling and only her hair showed the effects of gravity by hanging down low in flowing tresses.

He took a moment to understand the circumstances he had found himself in. "Perhaps you need to invest in better lackeys." He spoke at last, his voice gravelly and coarse.

He stared down the woman and recalled the journey that had brought him here. With his helmet on, no one thought twice about a guardian coming through the wall. Wearing all black, no one had seen him slipping through the shadows. And when he had finally cornered the man in the ill-fitted suit and forced him to reveal this place to him, no one in the slums had even bothered to look their way, even when the man screamed in pain and clutched his broken arm.

The woman cocked her head to the side. "Perhaps, indeed. Ezekiel is far from the most prudent of my agents, and he may yet see a swift removal from my ranks. I take it, however, that you are not here to discuss the inadequacies of my organization. What do you seek, Judas-33?"

"Hmph." Judas pondered for a moment. He had been asked that question twice now, and yet he still lacked an adequate answer. He responded after a brief moment, "I require information."

"A guardian, a warlock, is not a sufficient researcher in his own right? How you have fallen." She smiled again, this time in what could almost be called playfulness.

He ignored her jab. "My mission requires information that cannot be obtained by traditional means." He closed his pale yellow left optic, but the bright crimson one on the right remained glowing persistently.

"What would you like to know?" She asked demurely.

"It has been a year and a half since I have stepped foot in the City. I need to know what has changed in my absence."

"You have the means to do so already. To see for yourself."

"I know."

"I advise you do not waste my time, then, Judas." Her voice grew hard and cold in an instant.

He crossed his arms in front of him and looked to her. Her face no longer held the calm it once had. "You are the Black Dragon, the clandestine information broker that operates under the Vanguard's nose. You know everything and everyone in the Last City and beyond. However, even you must recognize that you do not know all that can be known."

"You may be surprised."

"As may you. I understand you have a history of animosity with the Vanguard's special investigations. A stroke of undeniable providence, then, that I am before you tonight." He looked her in the eye now. "I intend to dethrone the false prophet and warmongers, to topple their ivory Tower. With your resources and my abilities, I know it to be an eventuality."

"Will it be inevitable without my aid?"

"We will not have to find out." He offered a slight chuckle and bowed his head slightly.

"Nothing is free, Judas. Show me what you offer and I may agree to your terms."

Without a further word Judas let his hands drop down to his waist. He took a step back and reached behind him to pluck a scale from the wall and pull it away between his index finger and thumb. He stared at it-it was no simple scale, but a small robot in the shape of a locust. Its thin metal legs scrambled in the air in a vain attempt to escape.

The Black Dragon raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You are aware that I command them?" It was as much a warning as a question.

"Follow the locusts," Judas whispered, "And you reach the dragon's den." When the locust in his grip extended a whip-like stinger from its abdomen and lashed out at his hand, he held it tighter in his grasp. He closed his eyes and focused for the briefest of seconds, and before it could plunge its razor-sharp stinger into his palm it completely stilled, its struggles ceased in an instant. He loosed his grip on it and it calmly walked along his fingertips.

The Black Dragon narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You calmed it after I commanded it to sting you. Impressive." She bit back another word: worrisome.

"On a single small unit, I can dominate something completely with barely a thought." He let the locust go and fly toward its former master. "Larger systems take longer."

"And how much larger can this power of yours go?"

"Theoretically," Judas explained, "Entire computer systems. Perhaps even other exos."

She nodded once, now sufficiently intrigued. "We may have an agreement-"

"Alliance." Judas corrected her.

She did not bother arguing. "-after all. Go and see the Tower for yourself. After, I would be more than eager to fill in the gaps for you."

Judas nodded again and stepped away warily, all too aware of her eyes upon him with fierce intensity. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, pulling his helmet on again. There were no words left to say until he returned.

He descended the stairs and stepped out into the cold night and gazed up to the sky, to the softly twinkling stars of distant systems shining alongside the bright white moon where ancient evils slumbered. He looked to the Traveler, the huge god-sphere hovering over the City as silent and broken as the day he had first seen it so long ago. He looked to the City's edge and to the pristine white Tower, home of the guardians and heart of their corruption. He began making his way toward it.

He would find the answers.