Lindon drifted down onto the well-manicured grass in the mansion's garden. A miniature fountain in front of him was the only thing that disturbed the calm of night with the trickling sounds of water.
I counted four people on guard duty outside. He said to Dross, taking in the sprawling garden from the inside now.
[Yup, patrolling in pairs.] Dross replied. [Two outside, two on the main gate. And how many inside?]
Lindon extended his spiritual senses and found more than twice as many souls inside the boundary wall and the villa itself. Presumably quite a few of them were guards either patrolling or on stationary sentry duty.
[Very likely all of them are capes, or at least most of them.] Dross estimated.
Their arrival at the residence of one Heinrich Wagner, an industrialist and small-time-politician, had easily been without incident.
[Eh… I would say the arrival is more of a break in, just like the last three.] Dross corrected. [Not that I care.] He clarified slyly.
Were they break ins though? If their lives weren't disturbed in any way? Lindon offered, letting Dross mull over it.
Gesellschaft hierarchy was hidden from the public eye just like any other secretive organization. Wagner, too, had been unknown, even in his civilian identity he'd been relatively quiet compared to other politicians and businessmen of similar influence. No one publicly knew or suspected him to be a leader in this organization. But Lindon and Dross had been doing their research, and out of the list of 12 names, he was the third they had visited.
The first two—one in Germany and one in a neighboring country—had been clean; they weren't capes, they had no capes around their homes acting as guards, no traces of suspicious activity on their computers or phones – racist or criminal, and no others 'skeletons in the closet' as Dross had learned to say.
Wagner's city home was a regular apartment in Munich. It had then taken them a couple of days to find this country estate of his since it wasn't listed in any publicly available records. The architecture was of a style Lindon had seen primarily on this continent, Europe, and not in North America where they had arrived at.
It appeared paying a visit here would prove to be fruitful.
Dross voiced some of his thoughts to Lindon. [I'm thinking, at least the Dragons were a physically stronger species than humans, not that it mattered in the end. These guys are just deluded, and hateful.]
Lindon shrugged. While he agreed, the Reapers' mandate was different.
What do the news reports say about parahuman sightings in this town? He asked Dross, we'll know what sort of powers we might have to deal with here.
[Not much unfortunately, one thing I'm certain about is there is at least one thinker here, whether that means our presence will be noticed or not, I can't say.]
Lindon had flown to this continent just like the days before—today he tested the maximum speed with which he could fly at this advancement stage. It had been encouraging; in only a few hours, he had reached his destination.
This whole endeavor served two key purposes.
The primary reason for their travels addressed the larger issue of knowledge and information. Dross had uncovered that Gesellschaft had the ability to grant powers, or at least trigger them in some way. Interestingly, there were whispers about another such group in some corners of the internet, but none of the Presences could find concrete evidence of such rumors.
Their secondary objective was more of a side benefit: Lindon had the potential to disrupt, or better yet, dismantle a significant support network for one of the major criminal gangs in Brockton Bay. Even though Gesellschaft was too big to bring down by eliminating a single stronghold, he supposed it was a nice return of favor for the hospitality they'd received by the Brockton Bay PRT so far.
[We are veiled in illusions.] Dross announced, [and veiled otherwise too, yes?] he asked.
Lindon nodded in affirmation and started forward. Ignoring the stone pathways that led to shadowy alcoves and benches deeper in the garden, he walked along the central walkway that connected the entire width of the gardens directly to the driveway and the main building beyond, was what Lindon followed.
He paused close to the entrance and took stock of the situation. Two capes stood guard outside, silent, observant, not chatting. Actually, one sat, the calm one. The other was pacing back and forth, restless, drumming fingers on the hood of a van parked in the driveway and occasionally taking long sniffs.
[Is he trying to catch our scent?] Dross asked, [He shouldn't be able to.]
Seems more like habit to me. Let's keep a low profile, we want to see how they operate and manage these triggers before interfering. Lindon preemptively stopped Dross from assaulting the capes' minds.
He looked up and found a tall arched window open. Without preamble, he jumped up and settled on the ledge to peer inside. The room inside was brightly lit, without anyone occupying it, his senses had told him as much.
He jumped inside onto a plush carpet. The room looked like it belonged to someone opulent, with tapestries depicting battles and beasts, chandeliers hanging from the roof, and wall-to-wall shelves for paper books.
Dross whistled, but subjected only Lindon to the shrill sound, [Can you read some of these books here? Just take a look. We know internet doesn't have everything. Wait, throw some in your void key, save time.] Dross would forget Lindon existed if he had free reign of a library.
I thought you didn't like 'primitive' and 'slow' ways to acquire knowledge? Lindon asked with a grin. Before Dross could reply he continued, we are possibly very short on time, so you'll have to make do with what little information you already have.
Dross fell silent, projecting disapproval.
Lindon began exploring, searching for the man of the house himself, the Gesellschaft leader. The two serving staff he saw, he steered clear. Same for the cape who was on the phone in a hallway, speaking in German about the stock and data points. Lindon's grasp of the language wasn't great yet, but he understood enough and could speak if needed.
As he continued to probe with his senses, he found a basement level, heavily insulated and sparsely populated. Dross couldn't tell from this distance if those, too, were capes but that seemed likely.
[Perhaps capes in making?] Dross wondered.
Maybe.
[I am certain this level of cape presence in a random house isn't normal, even if it belongs to a cape organization. We've barged in on some important day, haven't we?] Dross theorized.
Wouldn't shock me. We do keep finding ourselves in the thick of it. Been something of a theme on this mission. Lindon told him.
[It's not trouble that comes looking for us you know.] Dross popped out in front of him, wagging one of his fingers.
What are you doing? Lindon stopped and asked, startled to see his companion out.
[Relax, we don't really exist to them at the moment.] Dross waved away his concern. [They can't handle my prowess.]
Lindon looked at Dross flatly, smile suppressed. It doesn't become one to flaunt his ability like that.
[Oh, hello Pot.] Dross replied in a self-satisfied manner.
Should we start talking out loud then? I find that easier. You'll keep us concealed? Lindon raised an eyebrow.
[If you're looking for more adventure then sure. I could use some real exercise in battle. Too many simulations on this mission compared to before.]
Dross had continued running the combat simulations for Lindon against the other Endbringer models as well as some S-class threats based on available footage and information. The models weren't complete, a useful approximation in the absence of the real thing, but gave Lindon some ideas. Their key focus in those simulations was always quick neutralization without collateral damage.
I remember you being very happy, gloating about your genius when you figured out how to seal our powers on our own. If you hadn't, this mission would have been much shorter and much riskier. Imagine, a mission full of adventure and real exercise in battle. What could have been?
Lindon reminded Dross before he rounded a corner and jumped up to sail above a man he knew was coming down the corridor. The man passed by, oblivious of Lindon's presence.
Ten minutes later, they found an office looking room, where two people were in discussion.
What are the chances our quarry is inside? Lindon asked rhetorically. Then waited for an opportunity, for the door to open, or something else. Soon after, the conversation ended and the second occupant, a woman wearing a cape's costume, left in a hurry.
As the door was closing, Lindon stepped inside.
The man sitting behind the office table was unmistakably Wagner. He was tall; thin around the shoulders and clean shaven with the strong nose and sharp cheekbones Lindon had most often seen in this region of the world. He rubbed his balding head, deep in thought and watched the computer screen in front of him.
Lindon eyed the room. If the one they entered through was a library, this was a personal study turned into an office. Sofas on one side, bookshelves on the other, and a desk with some chairs. Whatever else, this cult leader liked to collect books.
Alright Dross, let's talk to this man. Bring him in and keep an eye out after.
Lindon calmly walked forward and settled himself in one of the more comfortable chairs, then waited.
Dross took a few moments to prepare the illusory dream space—Silent King's technique. Then Lindon found himself standing in the same room, facing a wide-eyed Wagner who gaped at suddenly seeing a hulking Lindon in front of him. Dross had gone overboard and made Lindon even more of a giant than he already was.
To his credit, the old man recovered quickly and pushed a button on his desk. Lindon folded his arms in response and waited.
Once it was clear there would be no help coming from the button that must have led to an alarm system somewhere out in the real world, Wagner started to shout for guards and an intruder. He also pressed some button on his computer to perhaps turn it on but Lindon doubted Dross had spared the effort on a realistic computer inside this dream.
Lindon let the old man call out for a few moments, watching as he opened a drawer and tried to grab something from within, only to abruptly stop short as he must have found it empty.
"Let's talk." Lindon said, spreading his hands. He dragged a chair from across the table to sit just beside Wagner.
He sat, "Nobody can hear you, Heinrich," he said, patting the man on the shoulder who involuntarily shied back in his seat. Lindon barely even fit in his own chair, such was his size in this dream space.
"Who are you?" The man asked, a little short of breath and slightly paler in the face.
Lindon stared at him silently for a long while, unblinking, then said, "You know an Endbringer was killed in America earlier this month?"
The old man—getting his breath under control—gave a terse nod, eyebrows bunched together in furious thought.
"You must have heard from your…lackeys in Brockton Bay, of who brought Leviathan down?" Lindon inclined his head, voice impassive.
"Yes." The old man said after a pause, realization slowly dawning in his eyes.
Lindon shrugged. "Do I look how I was described?"
Wagner didn't answer and only fidgeted in his chair, adjusting his coat and looking Lindon up and down.
In the real world, Lindon was not wearing his usual sacred artists robes, he'd changed into local style with trousers and shirts. But Dross had projected him like he was on the day of their arrival here, if a touch bigger.
For that reason, and knowing the ideology of these people, he thought he could see barely hidden disdain behind the old man's eyes and his gradually subsiding panic. Wagner wasn't some fledgling initiate in Gesellschaft; he was one of the leaders in a political and criminal organization that had branches and allies in multiple parts of this world. That's why he seemed to be coming back into his element, now that he knew Lindon wasn't immediately trying to kill him.
"How are you here?" Wagner asked him boldly, having mustered some courage. "Why are you here?"
"'How' isn't relevant," Lindon replied. "Why is a much more important question, I'm glad you asked." He leaned forward to be inches away from the other man's face, "Is it true you and your organization produces capes on demand? Do you make people trigger and supply afterwards to your customers and allies?"
The Gesellschaft leader slowly exhaled in cautious relief, "If you wanted to talk business we have other, more effective, means of contact."
Lindon gestured for him to go on.
The man spoke, "So you need a cape from us. I'm sure in a more proper setting we can come to any kind of arrangement."
He fell silent again.
"Don't let me interrupt you." Lindon said; sarcasm bleeding into his tone. He was getting annoyed at the old man's refusal to elaborate on anything.
Wagner replied to him, speaking slowly, "What you asked is no secret if you get your information in the right places. Yes, we do produce parahumans and provide them to the right people…" The man paused again, assuming a thoughtful posture and tilting his head. He was really fraying Lindon's patience with his antics but continued without being prompted this time, "But I'm not the one in charge of that. You are wasting your time by breaking into my home, it would have been easier to discuss your needs through established—"
"You are not in control here," Lindon cut him off with a growl. He partially removed the veil on his spirit and intensified the spiritual pressure. "Let me demonstrate," he told Wagner, "Dross!"
The room flickered, and in an instant, Lindon was on his feet and holding the man by the neck, whose legs flailed beneath him in panic after the initial shock of his situation wore off.
"Your most cherished memory is of the birth of your son, isn't it? Say goodbye to that." Lindon said savagely.
The man whimpered, hands tight on Lindon's wrist.
"Go on, recall your son's birth now." Lindon challenged.
At his inability to do that, terror froze Wagner's expression. But Lindon wasn't done.
"Are you proud of the day you were sworn in as a Gesellschaft leader by your peers? I'll take that too."
Wagner had been struggling in his grip, batting his hands at Lindon but went still at the threat, hands going limp. Then he repeatedly shook his head as much as he could.
Lindon focused his entire will at Wagner for brief heartbeats, enveloping him completely, careful to not kill the man of terror and to keep his heart beating. Against non-sacred artists and at the current level of power, this method wasn't as effective in striking fear in an opponent's heart as it otherwise would be, but here Lindon was in complete command against a helpless foe.
As he veiled his spirit again, he said. "I have questions. You will answer those questions. The only reason I'm not tearing your mind apart is because it would waste time. Do you understand?"
The man took shaky breaths.
"Nod if you do." Lindon snapped.
He got the nod.
Releasing his grip, Lindon let the Gesellschaft leader fall on the floor. He couldn't sort his legs out and dropped on all fours.
"What's happening in your basement?" He crouched to eye level with Wagner, "Is that where you make triggers happen?"
His captive grimaced as he heard the question and stayed quiet for a couple of seconds before answering, "We have candidates going through their trials for becoming capes. They are regular humans now, but in the end they'll come out as capes."
"How do you know they can trigger? Have you scanned their brains?"
"Yes."
"What do these trials include? No… start from the beginning and do not spare any detail."
Wagner did as he was told and answered all the questions from then on.
Lindon was primarily here to investigate how capes get powers and figure out what actually caused that other than just severe abuse or trauma. He wanted to know how the Corona Pollentia changed a person so much to give them powers.
But his view of this entire organization only lowered further as he got to know more. Gesellschaft's methodology was beyond cruel. A calculated evil committed for the benefit and expansion of their organization and ideology.
Wagner began by explaining why Gesellschaft started off this practice to cause triggers. For their allies, to bolster their numbers and in rare cases, for paying customers in exchange for favors or hefty payment. He confirmed when questioned that none of those paying had ever offered themselves to be turned into capes.
"How do you decide your targets?" Lindon asked, stepping away from the man to sit in the chair and gesturing to him to do the same.
Wagner wavered as he got up, eyes darting around in apprehension, then said, "We find…youth from orphanages and streets and elsewhere."
"You especially target children? Those with rough childhoods?" Lindon asked, disgusted.
"…They are the most sensitive," the man replied. "It's just the way it is," he quickly added. "There's a volunteer list of adult Gesellschaft initiates too, we select from them occasionally."
"How do you really choose who goes into your 'trials' from among the scanned?"
"We have thinkers and human psychologists who analyze candidates and build mental and psychological profiles."
"How?"
"Standard emotional intelligence tests, IQ tests, physical capacity and specialized thinker tests to determine how to proceed based on their history."
"The history of abuse they've suffered?"
"Yes."
"To understand what abuse would be most effective in your 'trials'? Physical, emotional, mental, psychological. Is that it?"
"…We stimulate the candidates in different ways based on their history."
Lindon shook his head, keeping his revulsion in check. "You have torture chambers in your basement?"
"No, nothing so crude. Rare instances of physical stimulus aside, we have more sophisticated ways to induce triggers."
"More sophisticated ways of torture. Do you not feel remorse for ruining their lives?" Lindon asked rhetorically but apparently, he hit a nerve as Wagner inclined his head in indignation.
"If we don't get a hold of them they'd trigger uncontrollably and hurt more people." The man said, his jaw set. "We examine them in detail to create the situations for maximum chance of success. Once they trigger they become strong, soldiers and warriors, and we give them a community."
It sounded like a convenient excuse.
"You sign off on this abuse?"
"uh. . .Yes."
Lindon said in a low voice. "Lie to me again I'll forever make you hate Gesellschaft." He could do no such thing, but the man who was already shrinking back in fear didn't know that.
He gulped and stammered, "It wasn't a lie, I do but. . . not always."
"What does that mean?" Lindon asked.
"I'm not the only—" The old man stopped himself, then continued. "…Some shouldn't have powers. They are spared."
Shouldn't have powers? Lindon thought for a second. This guy was talking about DNA and ancestry tests?
"So benevolent of you," Lindon said frostily, "to spare those with the wrong bloodlines. What do you do with them?"
The man didn't reply.
"You kill them, don't you?"
"No!" Wagner exclaimed, "We aren't barbarians. We let…most of them go." But some deserved to die for who they were, that's what he left unsaid.
Lindon observed him closely. He looked like any old man, could be someone's grandfather. Yet he casually confessed to heinous acts like they were a minor inconvenience.
"How many capes has your organization produced with these methods?" Lindon asked.
"Thirteen."
That was lower than Lindon was expecting. He asked, eyes narrowed, "In more than a decade? How many 'candidates' have you put through these trials?"
The other man's gaze went distant for a moment, "Around one hundred."
"And you only got thirteen capes?" Lindon was surprised.
"Our success rate is…low, so far." Wagner replied, "It's unprecedented work, we are pioneers in this field." He apparently felt the need to add.
"Pioneers? So you must know what type of cape you're bringing into the world?" Lindon asked.
Wagner appeared lost at the question, confused.
Lindon changed tack, "The PRT in America has these classifications; Brute, Blaster, Thinker, Tinker… You may have something different here in Germany. Do you know the type of cape you are producing?
"Uh. . . No. It's random. It's not possible what you say, our— we agree on that here."
Lindon didn't needle him too much on that point, "Coming back to your successes; thirteen in total out of a hundred or so. The rest are dead then?"
"Not all. We rehabilitate them somewhere if they make no progress for two years."
Lindon controlled the urge to yell at the guy. "So you're saying these trials can last for months and years," He said. "And you keep torturing these children for all that time? Then you dump them in some asylum or orphanage, broken and traumatized when they don't become your foot soldiers?"
Silence rang heavy. Wagner had enough sense of self-preservation to not dispute Lindon' use of the word 'torture'.
He wasn't surprised that the man hadn't referred to his organization's systemic abuse and torture practices as such and instead used words like 'stimulus', 'candidates' and 'trials'.
"How exactly do you 'stimulate' these 'candidates' of yours?" He asked.
What he got out of Wagner only confirmed his suspicions that Gesellschaft had cultivated a reputation that far exceeded their capabilities, all sustained by the cheap cost of human blood and methods that were shoddy at best.
Solitary confinement for those who would suffer the most in those conditions. Being alone for extended periods had the potential to warp any human mind. Lindon was reminded of Dross who was borne out of such conditions; before meeting Lindon his life had been tragic, he had gotten out of it in time.
On the flip side, there was Subject One who had voluntarily isolated himself from the world and gradually turned into a monster. A wraith who lived alone and died lonely.
Wagner also mentioned group confinements and bloody, often fatal, competitions for survival among those who had displayed any conscience and morals. All to break them down.
Gesellschaft's psychological torture inflicted upon these 'candidates'—or 'lab rats' as Dross put it— was focused around things and people, or even concpets, they held dear.
Addicting the proudest ones to drugs and withholding those drugs to make them desperate was a tried and tested method. Leaving them in the woods and secluded mountains under the guise of letting them go only to capture them again broke their hope. The list went on and on.
Lindon was sure Wagner had left out some details, but he still stopped the man when he got the gist, "Tell me, how are you abusing and torturing these people for so long and still getting them to join you once they are free?" He asked, curious about the answer.
Wagner hesitated but Lindon put his best scowl forward. That made the decision for the Gesellschaft man, "There are ways. It's different depending on their level of knowledge and their profiles." He glanced at Lindon before looking away, "Those who didn't know their handlers, we freed them—a couple from such capes were Gesellschafts initiates who had volunteered for suicide missions—we gave them all a chance to join us, join a community. Some were coerced. Some were too broken, they leapt at the chance of a proper life and support as a cape."
Enthralling capes with deceit and coercion, after holding them captive, and bringing them to their lowest. Lindon's contempt for this entire organization was rapidly surging.
He thought about what else he wanted to know about this operation.
"Who designs these cape programs?"
Wagner shifted uncomfortably, ". . .We have people as I said; thinkers, tinkers and experts."
"Give me their names."
Wagner met Lindon's gaze and sat taller in his chair. "No," he said firmly. "I will not betray my brethren. I don't care what you do to me." His body went rigid with tension as he found the lonely spark of defiance.
Lindon watched him quietly for a few heartbeats. "You will," he muttered softly, then asked, "What's happening today? I'd wager you don't normally keep so many capes on premises."
When the man didn't answer, Lindon ratcheted up the pressure, "I'll find out either way. Best you speak."
Wagner wet his lips with his tongue and replied "We think one of them is close to a trigger."
That was primarily what had brought him across the ocean in the first place, his interest shot up. "How do you know that?"
Sensing reluctance in the Gesellschaft man at his question, Lindon reviewed what they had discussed so far. There was a singular note where Wagner had shown enough backbone to refuse an answer.
"You have someone," Lindon told him as much as asked him. "A thinker who can sense when triggers are close, or something like that."
The other man's reaction confirmed it for Lindon.
"Your sense of loyalty may be admirable but it's futile, I'll have information on your minions one way or another." He said. "Who is it that's close to triggering?"
"The one called Braun." Wagner replied.
"When is he expected to trigger?"
"He was supposed to do that the day before yesterday, but hasn't yet. It could be any time."
"He is a child?"
"…He's sixteen."
"So a child," Lindon said coldly, "What about the others? How young?"
"The woman is the only other. She is older, around your age."
If the trigger could happen at any moment, he needed to go and observe. Perhaps use the Hunger arm and Dross's abilities to find out what exactly happens in the Corona Pollentia. Draining these Gesellschaft capes of their memories and power would provide more insight into these cape powers.
Dross, Lindon thought, have you found the names he's withholding?
[He meets too many people, too many capes. If we see any of them here I'll let you know.] Dross replied.
Let's get out of here and to the basement.
Out of the dream technique, Lindon opened his eyes and got up.
Wagner was sitting with his head down on the table, unconscious. A glance at the clock hanging from the wall told only a handful of minutes had passed outside during their conversation.
[Do you want me to unclog his memories? The ones we…] Dross left the rest unsaid.
No. Lindon replied after a moment. He felt no sympathy for the man, quite the opposite.
He'll get those back in due time. When will he wake up? He asked.
[Not long, in a minute or so.]
He won't remember our little chat, would he?
[Not at all.]
Good. You have enough madra?
[Eh… less than I'd like, been a busy couple of days. Also, it was quite elaborate, setting up the room. Don't know what I was thinking. It was fun though.] Dross said.
Dross' illusions didn't directly make Lindon go invisible; instead, he actively altered the perspective of anyone able to sense Lindon, which required constant revision of the illusion based on the changing scenery and the position of those in the vicinity.
Do you know where to go? He asked.
[Yes, I'll show you.] Dross highlighted the route to the basement for Lindon from Wagner's memories.
Drop the illusion for now and rest. I mean it, don't tap our senses. I'll let you know when someone is close.
Lindon extended his senses to detect if he got in close proximity to anyone or otherwise. Then took off on a run, following the path Dross highlighted for him.
If there's only one entrance, how are we getting inside? He asked Dross as he ran.
[Depends if you want to announce your arrival or not. You can blow the door off the hinges and fight the capes on scene. Maybe the noise will make the boy trigger.] Dross said. [Or if you want to be quiet you can just punch the code in and get the door open. If there are guards I'll keep them occupied until you can incapacitate them.]
Lindon debated the utility of creating a distraction. It could clear his way to the basement and perhaps beyond but on the other hand, if Gesellschaft worried too much they could bring in the heavy hitters which ironically would become a distraction for Lindon in his goal to observe a trigger with all his senses, including Dross and his Hunger arm.
Not wanting to waste too much time, he went with his gut and took a detour to an open window. It overlooked the courtyard and the garden, and also provided a clear view of the countryside outside. He fired two thick beams of Blackflame—hidden behind Dross' illusions—one into the garden and the other farther into the woods. Back to back explosions shredded trees and tore the earth in the distance, creating decent sized plumes of smoke.
Satisfied, Lindon took his leave. On the way to his destination, he ran through the corridors of the building past alarmed guards and servants, all ignorant of his presence. Near the kitchen on the ground floor, he scrambled to hide in a bend around the corner as a group of capes suddenly burst out of the hidden door leading to the basement. It would not have been an issue but one of them barely registered to Lindon's senses and was not visible except for a translucent silhouette alongside the others.
[So they also have a Stranger type cape.] Dross said [He might be one of those the old man tried to not to give away, but I'm not sure. He wouldn't remember. Hehehe.]
Lindon filed the information for later.
Five minutes later, he was about to punch in the code Dross had provided. His senses told him there was no one immediately beside the door on the other side but further out there were people.
Do you know what the door looks like from the inside?
[I got some of it from the old man's memories.]
So we will get in undetected?
[Yes…well, probably. Go on, give it a go.]
The door unlocked and slid into the wall with a barely audible hiss as Lindon added the passcode. He walked in slowly, trusting Dross to maintain their anonymity. As he crossed the threshold, the door automatically closed behind him.
Inside, he found no one in his immediate vicinity in the vast, hangar-like hall. It was brightly lit from lights installed in a ceiling that was at thrice the height of a standard room's. The hall was divided in smaller sections by concrete walls that didn't extend all the way up.
Although he caught sight of no one, he did sense isolated prisoners in their cells in the far corners of the hall, and a couple of other souls in one of the partitioned 'rooms'. They were coming his way, if that was because they had noticed the basement door open or close, or suspected, it might force him to act more openly.
[So how are we doing this Lindon?] Dross asked excitedly. [Like a dragon or like a mouse?]
Remember what Orthos says, Lindon replied, "The power of a dragon must be balanced by the wisdom of a dragon." Lindon tapped his temple. We will be wise for now. Besides, you're getting your exercise in. Keep at it.
Dross groaned.
Lindon didn't wait for the capes to come to him and flew upward and forward to check on the prisoners. The myriad sections in the hall were all built for different purposes it seemed. Ranging from simple meeting rooms and what looked like entertainment areas to security stations, sections full of computer terminals and other equipment, and simple interrogation rooms among many others.
The capes had reached the entrance area and looked around in suspicion, talking loudly to one another. One wore a white and gold armor style costume and carried a weapon that was a cross between a spear and a sword, he had a full helmet on, painted in the same colors. The other wore a simple business suit with metal gauntlets on his hands and a mask that covered his eyes, nose and cheeks.
Lindon let them panic and drifted over to the cubicle style room they had initially emerged from when he'd entered the hall and saw one of screens display the entrance door.
He stifled a sigh, he'd been prepared to abandon his stealth-based strategy before the mission in case this place had too many surveillance cameras. While Dross could usually disarm and subvert those monitoring systems with enough time and a proper connection, he'd told Lindon some of these isolated, hardwired surveillance systems were impossible to breach remotely.
A screen displaying the entrance meant at least one of the two capes must have noticed him entering the hall, that meant engaging in combat and potentially missing out on observing the trigger.
[Not necessarily,] Dross interrupted his thoughts. [Leave me here for when they eventually come back and review the security footage. I can't access their system but I can throw an illusion over the screen itself. Let them second guess themselves.]
Lindon liked that idea. Don't bother with it for too long, I'll let you know if I see something that looks like a trigger. He told Dross.
The cell where the boy 'Braun' was being held captive was like an alcove, only slightly larger than one. It had a horizontal window a foot high, spanning the length of the wall adjoining it to the hall and ending at the door. The window provided a view of the cell and must have acted as a mirror from the inside. The cell was tiny; six feet by four feet at best, and sparse, with padded floor and a hole at the far end for waste disposal.
The boy wore gray shorts and a loose shirt, and stood in a corner with his head in his hands, face hidden and fingers curled in his matted hair. He was facing the wall away from the window and shaking ever so slightly.
Lindon felt a deep conflict in his soul just watching a child in such pain, and not doing more for the kid. On one hand, knowledge on triggers would serve their mission, it would bring them closer to understanding the powers in this world and what, if any, role the fiend had in their onset. On the flip side, the side that formed the very essence of Lindon's being, here was a boy he could free from torment with minimal effort. Still, he only watched.
It was strange how seeing someone suffer made it more real. Lindon had inadvertently caused the deaths of thousands, if not millions, on the Rosegold continent and elsewhere in his final battle with the Dreadgods. The conflict he had stirred to eliminate Dreadgod and Monarchs alike had led to wholesale suffering overall—Akura Malice destroying one of her own cities was just one example.
His actions had snowballed it into something that had brought permanent change but also at a great cost, most paid in human life.
Unbidden, the memories came to him, of suppressing the plaintive cries of hundreds of thousands who feared for their lives as they watched Dreadgods and Monarchs battle on top of them, of him ignoring their collective terror to focus only on the fight. He had no other option, and the path he took he would take again and again if it came to that. But those who lost their lives had no other option either, other than to extinguish in a fire far beyond their capacity to outrun.
All for the long term good of the world, the greater good of Cradle. He had felt sorrow for those who perished, for all the loss, but those emotions had been distant, drowned out by other concerns and the lasting euphoria of victory. The greater good indeed trumped most, if not all, things.
The Abidan's adherence to same principles had led their most prized Judge to apathy towards their ways. Ironically, the new Reaper division was supposed to be an antithesis of the established Abidan order due to their active interference in dying worlds. And yet, on a much smaller scale, Lindon's actions here as a Reaper were reminiscent of standard Abidan protocol.
All these thoughts ran through his head in seconds as he watched the boy twitch and shake, in stark contrast to most of the lost souls in the battles past.
Minutes passed. Dross was back after thoroughly confusing the two capes who now systematically cleared each cubicle and room to alleviate their doubts.
Then finally, the boy convulsed and went down on his knees, his legs losing all strength. Lindon had had enough, trigger or no, it was time to end this travesty.
He burned through the steel door and its locking mechanism in an instant with a beam of blackflame, not wanting to create noise by destroying the door, but the breach in security prompted a loud alarm to go off in a shrill, nonstop siren.
Dross, check his mind.
He reached the boy in the next instant and held on to his convulsing form, not allowing him to fall and get a bang on the head. The heart rate and breathing rate were higher than normal but nothing alarming. That was a relief. He helped the kid, who slouched against the wall, stay upright.
Dross Lindon called, Stay focused on in his mind, keep track of his memories as much as you can but don't clog any, don't block any.
Having confirmed that the boy wasn't immediately dying, Lindon did something he hadn't tried too often. He focused the entirety of his will to his Hunger arm—while the arm had fully been in his control for years, and by all means it was his arm, what he was attempting required fine control and full focus. He would actively try to maintain contact with the boy's memories and his powers that should be manifesting if he was going through a trigger, all without Consuming.
For a couple of seconds nothing happened, then, as Dross was about to say something to him, he felt movement at his back, the two capes had found him. Lindon ignored them and listened to Dross, who said, [I think something's happening, my connection to the boy is being interfered with.]
In that same moment, Lindon took a prolonged blast of heat and light on his back going on for several seconds. The Gesellschaft capes monitoring the prisoners were back.
The attack put him in an awkward position on the floor with the boy in his shadow. As he was already holding up the boy, the scorching blast pushed him enough that he had to get out a leg from under him and brace for impact in a one-legged kneel. Once in position though, he didn't budge an inch.
Piercing beams of light ricocheted from his body along with others coming straight from the cape in a wide arc. They shredded the floor and the walls, detonating on impact and leaving the boy, Braun, vulnerable to stray chunks of floors and walls even with Lindon's bulk protecting him.
He suspected the cape had taken care to avoid hitting the boy directly but the youngster still got struck indirectly, causing minor scratches and singing one of his arms.
Lindon had maintained contact with him during the attack to keep tabs on the trigger. He hadn't used the Hollow Domain either as he didn't want to disrupt a potential trigger with the technique. He braced for more such attacks and glanced behind; the golden cape was striding forward with his weapon raised for another attack, and the other one was further behind, the index finger on his gauntleted hand aiming at Lindon.
Lindon was about to shoot them with a Dragon's breath when suddenly both their bodies went slack and they stumbled. The same instant Dross called out to him. [Lindon!] A note of excitement and caution mixed in his voice.
Lindon focused his will on his arm and tried to feel the boy's memories.
For a moment or two, his sense of time wavered and he saw fragments.
Vast beings traveling through the Void.
Exchanging spaces in spiral patterns—like cosmic objects Lindon had seen, he would recall later.
Confusing and complex shapes and lights—emblematic of chaos fiends and their weirdness, he would later theorize—formed the bodies of these beings, constantly shifting and moving.
Endless space, Void, countless dimensions all different.
Then it ended.
Lindon recovered quickly and removed the Hunger arm's contact with the newest cape in the room. He sensed around, the other two capes had now got their feet under control and they stared at Lindon and the boy.
Lindon had wanted to see more of what had happened. That was completely unexpected, out of nowhere, a glimpse of the unknown. What exactly those things were, he didn't know, but suspected the truth would be discerned in time. Watching more would have meant Consuming and he didn't want to subject the boy to that.
Dross, you saw that? He asked.
[I did more than see my friend, wait till I show this to Suu and Ruby. I win again!] Dross cackled.
Dross! Lindon said more forcefully.
[Sorry my bad sorry… I got excited. Yes, we have those visions in the bag, as much as I could grasp. For now, though, you have two enemies about to attack you from behind—again I might add—and a young man in your arms. What are you waiting for? Destroy those two.]
Lindon sighed and laid the unconscious boy down in a corner of the cell that was rather clear of any debris.
Then he stood up and turned around, batting the second attack from the golden cape with a swipe of his hand.
Some of the redirected blast made its way toward the second cape who—having fired his gauntlet weapon at Lindon—tried to avoid the redirected beam of light. He got his legs twisted and fell down. Fortunately for him, the fall inadvertently made him dodge the attack. Meanwhile, the tiny bullet he had fired exploded as it came close to Lindon and he was assaulted with an intense feeling of despair and weakness—an emotional attack in truth.
Lindon shrugged it off. Anyone in the upper lord realms would have done the same. But it was an interesting attack nonetheless.
It was time to go on the offensive. Lindon blitzed the golden cape first and punched him square in the chest. His breastplate took the brunt of the impact and crumbled. The cape himself flew off at the force of the impact to crash into the wall behind him, and dropped in a heap of limbs.
The other cape fired another bullet from his position on the ground. Lindon let it sail wide. With a brief burst of the burning cloak, he was on top of the suited man, with his Dreadgod arm around the neck of the terrified villain who lay prone on the ground.
Lindon started to Consume in earnest for the first time since the Leviathan fight. He let Dross handle the memories from the cape and focused on the power that his arm devoured. It was a thinker power with some emotion aspect, he intuitively understood the function from the memories and the life essence of the man. The power's touch was eerily similar to that of the Endbringer's. Lindon let the foreign power run through his spirit, trying to test if he could use it.
He couldn't. He knew what the power did, what it was supposed to do, but using it was out of question. It didn't respond to him at all.
Lindon vented it, trying to forge something out of it but again it wasn't possible. Unlike the Endbringer's power which inherently wanted to be dense and compact, thus allowing Lindon to fill a city sized void key with its forged blocks, this dissipated in thin air.
Dross spoke up. [This man was one of the top capes in Gesellschaft, responsible for a lot of this… 'child slavery' program.]
Lindon grunted in reply. He glanced at the other cape who was slowly getting up. The man, with his shattered armor, took labored breaths and tried to paw at his weapon lying a few feet away from him. It would take him at least a minute to get back on his feet, he was in no position to disrupt Lindon.
The Consume technique devoured the cape in every way. The well of power he had seemed endless, similar to Leviathan.
The suited cape began dying, his lifeline vanquishing and still the power showed no signs of diminishing. Until it abruptly ended as the cape died in truth. Lindon let go of the lifeless husk.
It was a shame. He had wanted to depower these villainous capes while keeping them alive but apparently doing both was impossible.
He got up from the crouch, calmly walked to the first cape who was trying to get up and knocked him out with a precise kick to his head.
In the next half hour, Lindon killed three more capes in combat and knocked out all the rest, within the premises of the mansion and without. The Stranger cape almost got him, materializing inside Lindon's guard with no warning.
[Technically, he did get you. He was just too weak to do anything afterwards.] Dross corrected him as always.
He had chosen the perfect moment to strike when Lindon was already engaged with three others, and indeed, he struck true. Fortunately for Lindon, the weapon had failed to pierce his shirt, let alone his skin. The cape had died soundlessly right after.
Lindon Consumed from all of the ones he left alive, making sure to not kill any this time. The flavor of power was different each time, but all felt just as vast in quantity as the first one. He also sensed a deeper underlying similarity in all, as if the origin of all powers was the same.
If creatures he had seen during the boy's trigger were responsible for these powers, the similarity would make sense. If those creatures were the chaos fiends active in this iteration, their job on this mission was exponentially harder than they estimated, unless they let go of any precaution and fight head on, regardless of consequences to the iteration and its populations.
He ignored all civilians except for Wagner who he locked in a room. And a couple other non-cape loyal soldiers of Gesellschaft he had to subdue.
Then he asked Dross, Can we contact the local heroes here? The Meisters, is it?
[Yes, the Meisters, and yes, we can. I'll give you their number.]
What are the odds, Lindon asked, that the heroes knew about this anyway and let it happen? Or at least some among them.
[Hmm… I'll assume that isn't a real question. The odds aren't zero as you probably know. It's also possible they didn't have the information or ability to act. But it doesn't matter now, you've made too big of a mess here for them to just ignore. And we have video evidence in my head.]
Lindon brought out a mobile phone from his void space that he had bought earlier today in the nearest town.
There, standing in the grand foyer of the mansion, with the weakened forms of several defeated capes strewn about, he dialed the number and informed the surprised cape about the Gesellschaft operation, giving a quick summary. He shared the location of the mansion and the directions to it; a few dozen miles north from the outskirts of Berlin. The woman on the other end had further questions for him but he hung up after giving out the most important details; that Gesellschaft kept children as slaves and prisoners in this location.
[Hey Lindon,] Dross said after the call ended. [Don't forget the other prisoner.]
Yeah let's get her out now, and the boy too. Lindon agreed.
He had contemplated restraining all the capes who were left alive but thought better of it. After having their strength drained, none were in any position to escape, let alone fight.
He headed back to the basement and to the first cell. The boy was still there, unconscious. He checked the other cell; there the woman huddled on the ground in the far corner, her visage full of fear in the pale yellow light of the cell; head shaved and bruised, shoulders hunched and knees brought up to the chest. She wore the same garb as the boy and peeked from behind her arms as Lindon burned the lock on the cell and parted it like melted cheese before opening the door with a push.
"You can come out now." Lindon told her in a pacifying tone. The woman didn't respond and only hid her head behind her arms. He told her, "The people who hurt you are dead." Or nearly dead. He thought.
[Maybe she speaks another language.] Dross suggested.
Lindon tried again in English and then in French but got an identical response.
He turned back, leaving the door to the miniscule cell wide open if the woman wanted to leave on her own. The heroes would be on their way, they could take care of her much better than Lindon could. He hoped so.
He went back to the first cell and carefully carried the boy out of there and onto a comfortable looking couch in one of the rooms of the basement. He was hoping the boy would wake up, to make sure he was alright and find out what sort of powers he was bestowed with. But the youngster, Braun, remained unconscious.
When the first squad of Meisters arrived; half a dozen strong, armed to the teeth and wary of danger, Lindon didn't meet them.
He waited until they found his note where he had written all the names of the capes and the names of other Gesellschaft leaders extracted from the many capes he'd stolen memories from.
He listened to them apprehend Wagner and take the capes under custody, interestingly using the same containment foam as the PRT used.
Then he slipped out from one of the back windows, not wanting to verbally recount all the details of this trip to this hero team. More reinforcements were on the way and Lindon didn't want to spend any time talking to each one of their commanders and leaders.
He took off in a flight to his next destination: the city of Cologne on the other side of the country. He needed more information on the Endbringer Behemoth from those who had faced him. After his research on the same subject in New York, he had a good idea but Cologne was a smaller city, it would be easier to find people who had fought Behemoth directly or had been affected by the devastation it brought.
From there, he would fly back to England for yet another meeting. This time, with the hero groups; the Suits and the King's Men.