A Champion in Earth Bet - Worm-Original Setting: Story-Only Thread Chapter 3: Page 3, a worm fanfic

(INTERLUDE) PERSPECTIVES: THE FALLEN ANGEL

Terror Drone Seven is flying in orbit above the primary planet. It knows this, not due to any direct knowledge of the present, but because it can see the past, and it was flying in orbit milliseconds ago. Its immediate future, which it sees just as clearly, is in the same position.

It sifts through possible futures, searching for what will best fit its programmed objectives. Currently, Terror Drone Thirteen - the high-speed hydrokinetic one - is launching a raid on a human habitation, referred to by the locals as Brockton Bay. The two Terror Drones discussed the raid before: The location is the current hiding place of the human with the unbalanced shard, part of Terror Drone Seven's active plan #22. If things go as planned, then Terror Drone Thirteen's attack will cause the human with the unbalanced shard to come into contact with the younger human with the precognitive shard, creating several omnicidal clones. Said clones will apply variations on its precognitive power to spread chaos and devastation across the world.

If the raid is interrupted (a distinct possibility, as the Warrior often assaults Terror Drones during raids), then the back-up plan will come into effect. In the coming months, the human with the unbalanced shard will go berserk, kill a number of significant figures in the largest organization of sharded humans, and expose the compromising secrets of the hidden cabal in the process. This will lead to a weakened organization, which - still following the contingencies of active plan #22 - will suffer a decapitating strike during the ensuing raid by Terror Drone Two. The chain of events will spread chaos and despair, furthering-

Terror Drone Seven is disoriented. None of the futures look familiar. A previously-unaccounted-for element must be having a major impact on events. Did the human with variable powers die? Predicting him always involves some guesswork, though it is usually easy enough guesswork. Did the Warrior's behavior drastically change? Has something important happened to the Thinker's corpse? Terror Drone Seven proceeds to methodically sift through the future and the past, looking for answers.

By the time it has some idea of what is going on, Terror Drone Thirteen has been destroyed. The probability of local lifeforms successfully terminating a Terror Drone was always close to nil. Its terminator is an unidentified entity that refers to itself in most future conversations as "The Avatar", and in some rare future possible situations as "Adeltom". Looking into its past finds nothing prior to its recent arrival, suggesting it has come from outside the set of universes currently available to the Warrior's specie.

In possible futures where Terror Drone Seven maintains its current orbit, the interloper remains in the city for a while, gathers its forces, then strikes at it. Suboptimal. Furthermore, its presence restores hope and order to the planet, making the Terror Drones' work harder, less productive. Active plan #22 is already doomed to failure, as are 19 out of the 24 current active plans. New plans have to be made. First, it looks for near futures where it survives the coming days. Then, it refines its search, looking for the futures that best fit its objectives.

The interloper is clearing the rain clouds away from the city while Terror Drone Seven begins speeding away. Telekinetically, it grabs a number of old artificial satellites; these ones have fallen into disuse years ago, in some cases long before the Warrior reached the planet, and their absence will not be noticed. It carefully follows a path that will not lead to detection, and puts distance between itself and the planet. With no air to slow it down, it can accelerate to speeds that even Terror Drone Thirteen could never have matched. Soon enough, it is safely behind the planet's natural moon, hidden from the humans' detection.

There is now time to plan in greater detail. Over the coming days, the interloper will be hard at work, undoing the Terror Drones' work. It will start locally, then expand operations to the entire primary planet. This must be stopped. There are paths to that.

Futures where Terror Drone Seven kills the interloper directly or indirectly abound. However, in most of those, the interloper returns to life. To be permanently killed, it must first be taken to a parallel world, which must either have no sapient population, or be depopulated before the interloper's physical destruction or during the hours following it. Killed in such a depopulated world, the interloper never returns. With the right path, its work can be entirely undone.

Terror Drone Seven refines its chosen path, plundering the pilfered satellites for electronics. Technological work would be much easier with a tech storage shard it could access; designing machinery by selecting a possible future where it works is much more time-expensive. Still, the results are functional. They will lead to the desired future.

It flies in the direction opposite to the planet, keeping the moon between them. Once proper distance has been achieved, it engages on a carefully-planned flight path, at immense speed. All the while, its electronic devices send carefully-crafted signals to the planet. Using the exact right passwords, bypassing all security, imitating the electronic signature of human voices on supposedly secure communication channels, it lures the interloper out of the city.

When it enters the planet's atmosphere, its telekinesis moves the air in its way out of it path, replacing it in position instantly after its passage, allowing its supersonic movement to be perfectly silent. Thanks to earlier faked messages, the sharded humans it brought here for the former active plan #22 are at work, rescuing the sharded human with superposing precognition.

It's going through the city so fast, that the few humans who even look in the right direction see only a blur that they will dismiss. It only has a very short window of opportunity for this, but that will suffice.

Telekinesis moves air, creating a loud sound that distracts the team of sharded humans. They are not looking at the one with superposing precognition as its telekinesis yanks him away, carrying him with it. Its other target in the city, the human with the omni-purpose tech repository shard, has been lured by another fake message to a position where he can be grabbed just as easily.

An instant later, it is flying back into space, carrying both sharded humans as well as a bubble of air that will keep them alive long enough. Its interference today will not be discovered. The interloper will return to catch the team of sharded humans, but it will not know about the Terror Drone's involvement or location.

The superposing precognition ability is incompatible with Terror Drone abilities, regrettably, but they have their own long-term use - after the interloper is disposed off, his work will need to be undone, and there is a plan in motion for that. In the shorter term, with proper access to the omni-purpose tech repository shard, it can begin creating advanced technology. The shard is sabotaging its user, but the Terror Drone does not face that limitation; anything that could theoretically be designed by the Warrior is now within its reach.

Its first creation is a dimension-jumping device. With it, the Terror Drone quickly jumps to a parallel planet, untouched by shards until now. It can easily acquire what construction material it needs here, either from artificial satellites or even by raiding human civilization. The humans below can be sacrificed in time, as the shards are not using them for the cycle. This world will be depopulated in the opening shots of the interloper's execution.

Over the next few days, measures are taken. Traps are put in place. Weapons are created. The future that it is working toward will see the interloper die within seconds of the ambush's start, but, just in case things do not go as planned, backup plans are made. And invisibility device allows Terror Drone Seven to briefly jump back to the primary planet, depositing the superposing precognition human, sending a few messages, and generally ensuring that a chain of event will begin to return the world to its hopeless state - possibly even kill the interloper in the unlikely case the Terror Drone fails despite everything.

It is almost time. As it returns to the soon-to-be battlefield world, it encounters an anomaly.

Unbothered (and, somehow, unsilenced) by the ambient vacuum, Madman, hands in his pockets, stared at the Simurgh.

"Hey there, Terror Drone Seven. How you doin'?"

He chuckled. "Right, you're probably a little confused. You can't see my future at all. You can't see any part of my past before this conversation. You can't do anything to my brain. I'm as much of an OCP for you as you are an OCP for Earth-Bet.

"Gotta give it to you: It's a clever plan. Not me-clever, not Checkmate-clever, but, y'know. Reasonably clever for for a cosmically-powerful robot running on faulty code. With that said…"

He snapped his fingers.

Every satellite not already appropriated by the Simurgh, gone. The cities, gone. The people, gone. All multicellular life, gone.

He had switched the Earth of that dimension and the Earth of another one - one without much of an ecosystem yet.

"I have altered the plan. Pray I do not alter it further," he said, grinning. "Yeah, evacuated this universe. You want to have a big all-out brawl with the Avatar? Be my guest. I'll bring my own popcorn. You want to blow up seven billion people? Not OK. As Stalin once said, one death is an interesting tragedy that makes for a gripping story; a million deaths is a boring statistic that makes for a needlessly grimdark mess. ...Well, it's what Stalin would have said if he wasn't the most boring dictator ever.

"Well, I'm just about done here. But before I go, Nasty Smurf… I imagine you're wondering. Why is the Avatar here? Why did I send him here? Why did he show up, wrecking your hard work, changing the world against your wishes, killing your kind? Why mess everything up for you so badly by bringing him to Earth Bet?"

He leaned in closer. "You needed worthy opponents."

To the extent that it can be said to have emotions, Terror Drone Seven is frustrated. The anomaly remains completely unexplained, hours after leaving. His final sentence clearly had some meaning which eludes the Terror Drone.

However, the frustration does not hamper it. It is making final adjustments to the trap, preparing the ambush.

Shortly, the interloper will return from its world tour. It will be lured downtown. Alarms will be hacked, gathering the attention of the city's human population. It will contact them, and its final words will be that there is no Terror Drone coming.

At which point, Terror Drone Seven will use the dimension-jump device to teleport the interloper into the deathtrap, killing it.

Following the interloper's death, the city will be, per standard human protocol, quarantined. By the time the Terror Drone is made to feign retreat, however, it will have had the time to launch several worthwhile long-term plans. Meanwhile, the interloper's demise right on the heel of its international actions will crush mankind's hopes. Sharded warlords from across the world will regard the organization it briefly belonged to as their enemy, and without fear of the interloper, a shadow war between them will begin. The right pushes at the right time will ensure that these events contribute to the climate of fear, conflict and helplessness favored by the Terror Drones.

It is time. Jumping dimensions, Terror Drone Seven appears before the interloper. With perfect timing, the interloper is sent to the uninhabited world.

On the natural moon of that world, a technological device created thanks to the omni-purpose tech repository shard activates. It is a ray that, when aimed at an area, converts half the protons in it into antiprotons, generating a cataclysmic explosion. It is aimed squarely at where the interloper currently is.

The device fires, and the planet below loses its spherical shape.

SO YOU WANT TO KILL A GOD

One moment, you are in Brockton Bay, seeing the Simurgh appear before your eyes.

The next instant, you are in a desolate wasteland within sight of a coastline. The atmosphere around you is nearly pure nitrogen, with little to no oxygen around.

The next instant, some strange ray covers the area.

And then everything explodes.

You have been through many an explosion before. You have been shot at with bazookas. You've been shelled by heavy artillery. You've had your insides shredded by Gatemaster's teleporting antimatter projectiles. You've been blasted to smithereens by the Man of Might. You've spent five years inside a continuous thermonuclear explosion in the heart of the Sun.

This is probably the most violent explosion you've ever been through. Within an instant, you can feel your nigh-invulnerable body getting vaporized, turned to subatomic dust, by the apocalyptic deluge of energy.

It's the end.

All across Brockton Bay, people felt their blood turn to ice as the Simurgh appeared. As the Avatar disappeared from their sight. As the Simurgh's scream began.

Taylor almost screamed herself. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!

Dean almost reeled from the terror and sickness in everyone's emotion. Even Leviathan hadn't been that bad.

Noelle let out a wail. Not again…

Colin grabbed his halberd, wasting no time and shouting orders for the team. Not that he believed they could do anything against the third Endbringer, but fighting was the only alternative to panicking he could summon.

Dinah Alcott, almost without thinking about it, asked herself the odds. The answers were bleak. There was no hope for their future.

No.

You will not allow this.

You will not permit a murderous hope-killing monstrosity like the Simurgh to win.

You will not let your story end like this.

There isn't enough left of your body to properly maintain your consciousness at this point. No matter. The echoes of your final, defiant thoughts reverberate across the psychic plane from which gods are formed (or the nearest local equivalent). From there, those thoughts seize control of your fate, and declare that you do not die here.

It all happens so very quickly. Your cosmic power, as if on autopilot, forms a shield around you. Though the shield could stop a hydrogen bomb, it can not even noticeably slow down the explosion around you. It doesn't need to. With its shape and specific position, it shapes the maelstrom of energy so that instead of being utterly destroyed, what little is left of your body gets projected thousands of miles away. Your regeneration kicks into gear just in time to restore your body to a bloody, broken, but living mess.

The odds against such a thing happening were astronomical. But then, you weren't playing by the odds.

Dinah blinked in confusion, feelings the numbers change.

The scream stopped. The Simurgh, for the first time in History, snarled. Then there was a shimmer of light, and she disappeared.

Things are happening way too fast. Which is your cue for activating mental super-speed, coupled with an array of enhanced senses.

You are flying in space, along with countless trillions of rocky debris from the planet below. The planet is the right size, and the right distance from the Sun, to be Earth. It now has a massive dent in it nearly two thousand miles wide and deep; the destructive shockwave is still spreading across the planet.

Mercifully, looking at the continents that the shockwave hasn't reached yet, it looks like this Earth has no life on it - that's reassuring, since you doubt any could survive this, and you can't even fly fast enough to rescue anyone who might be there.

Situation assessment. The Simurgh appeared in front of you all of a sudden, presumably after hacking into the city's Endbringer alarm. This could mean she has access to a previously-unknown form of stealth… or, given that she has sent you to another dimension, she might just have moved to this dimension's equivalent of your location and then performed the jump. Most concerning is that she is now in Brockton Bay, and you are stranded in another dimension with no way back. For all your power's versatility, even you cannot cross dimensions without the appropriate technology.

You suppose you'll have to try anyway. See if your limited memories of Venture Industries' technology, and perhaps the right amount of super-speed, allow you to replicate a portal device quickly enough. It's a ridiculously far shot, but what do you have to lose at this point-

Your enhanced senses pick up something a couple thousand miles away. Amidst the cloud of superheated plasma where the planet's surface used to be, there is planar movement, and then, the Simurgh reappears.

Well. It looks like you may yet have a shot at her.

Knowing what you know about how your powers work… you suspect that your divine ability to manipulate fate is the one thing she cannot predict. Her trap should have killed you, except it didn't. It's very unlikely to be a bluff on her part - if she could have seen it coming, she could have set up a second trap at the location where the original explosion propelled you and finished you off. No, this is currently going in a way she didn't see coming.

And if you were less intelligent, you might assume that this puts her at a disadvantage.

This is still an uphill battle. The Simurgh can see everything you do coming. Only your fate-manipulation is beyond her future-sight, and you can only use that a limited number of times before running out of juice. Three more, definitely, but anything beyond that is uncertain.

Of course, failure is completely unacceptable. Earth-Gimel and Earth-Bet both have need of you, and a monster like the Simurgh cannot be allowed to keep at her dark work.

This is going to be one of the hardest, perhaps the hardest fight you've ever had.

For now, you use your secondary power pool in the following way (pick two):

[ ] Regeneration. As it stands, you are closer to death than life. This should restore you to full health over the next couple minutes.
-[ ] Maximum Regeneration. Take a dozen seconds to return to full health; that'll make the rest of the fight easier.

[ ] Mental Super-Speed. Perhaps you can't predict the Simurgh's next move, but you can react to it nigh-instantly, by improving your reaction time by two orders of magnitude.

[ ] Long-Range Super-Senses. This is going to be a space battle, and you need to keep track of where the Simurgh is and what she's doing.

[ ] Partial Immunity to Energy. That explosion almost killed you, and there's no reason to assume it'll be the last. You're probably tough enough to take debris going at sufficient velocity, but making yourself more resistant to energy attacks should improve your odds of survival.
-[ ] Total Immunity to Energy. By turning your body into a perfect energy conductor, you can prevent any energy-based attacks from harming you.

[ ] Teleportation. By jumping dozens of miles every few seconds, you can move twice as fast as your usual flight.
-[ ] Long-Range Teleportation. You can reach the Simurgh's vicinity in a single jump.

[ ] Some rapid sequence of the above (please describe!).

You need to select your short-term, immediate tractic:

[ ] Hunker down. Maintain a safe distance between yourself and the Simurgh while you catch your breath and recover from your injuries.

[ ] Offense is the best defense. The Simurgh may be over a thousand miles away, but you shouldn't give her time to adapt her plan.

[ ] Write-in.

A GAME OF FATE AND GAUSS

The Simurgh is the sort of adversary who cannot be allowed the time to react and adjust. So you don't give her one second longer than you have to. Redirecting your secondary power pool to teleportation, you focus for a few seconds, and appear less than a hundred feet from her. You need a second to readjust, shifting your power pool to mental super-speed and regeneration, and already you're blasting at her. She dodges effortlessly.

The next instant, tens of kilotons of magma and rocky debris assail you from every direction. Normally, being hit by kilotons of rock flying faster than a speeding bullet would be the sort of things you can ignore; in your current almost-dead state, this attack nearly kills you.

Thankfully, your mental super-speed is kicking in. With enough time to analyze your surroundings, you generate a force-field and barrel through the pile of asteroids and magma. The Simurgh is flying away… but she is not faster than you. Not even close.

You send another blast at her… noting, dejectedly, that she deflects the first one with an asteroid when it tries to home back in on her. Not good. She's adapting too quickly. You doubt any of your blasts will hit her unless they're backed by fate-control, but that power is a limited resource.

Hm. From your fight with Leviathan, you know an Endbringer's power remains just as deadly until its control core is destroyed… and you needed fate-control just to hit it on Leviathan, not knowing where it was located. But… it was late in the fight that you even learned, from Tattletale, about that particular Achiles's heel. Right now, if you get closer to the Simurgh, then you can scan her with your cosmic senses, hopefully detecting the control core… then combine that knowledge with fate-control to overcome her precognitive dodging, hopefully killing her with just one or two good hits!

...Assuming your fate-manipulation is good enough to actually land a hit on her. Otherwise, you'll have just wasted a shot.

Several pairs of eyes observed the battle.

"She's pulling all the stops to kill him," said Alexandria, "except that… he's still alive. Either she's planning something, or there's some blind spot of hers he can somehow exploit."

"More likely the former," Numbers Man commented. "Still, he's been extremely useful so far, and he doesn't seem to be winning. Is there a way for us to tip the balance?"

"If you have any suggestions, I'm listening, but I doubt it," said Doctor Mother. "Alexandria can't breath in space. Legend can only survive in a vacuum by staying in his travel form. Even Eidolon would only be able to assist by wasting one of his three powers on surviving the environment. Parahumans aren't designed for space battles.

"For now, best let Legend and Eidolon organize the heroes at Brockton Bay. If she kills the Avatar and comes back, at least we'll have our forces ready for her."

"And if he wins?"

"Well. It would raise a number of questions."

Without a planet Earth around you, and with mental acceleration on your side, it's hard to gauge the actual speed of everything happening around you. You see the broken planet looming "below", with the explosion's shockwave still travelling across its surface, ripping mountains away. Debris, molten and otherwise, is still careening across you at great speed, ranging from small pebbles and magma droplets to rocks the size of mountain ranges.

And ahead of you, the Simurgh elegantly navigates this veritable bullet hell. You're uncertain how much of that is her precognition allowing her to dodge, and how much is her telekinesis moving obstacles out of her path.

She's still flinging all sorts of projectiles your way, though. Thankfully, now that your mind is accelerated by orders of magnitude, you are able to dodge nearly as well as her.

More importantly, you are gaining on her. You are close enough that your cosmic awareness can sift through the Simurgh's structure; mental acceleration allows you to make sense of it much faster that you did with Leviathan. Your cosmic senses also detect, to your surprise, a small pod flying alongside her, protected by a force-field, carrying an unidentified adult human male.

Not that you are letting go of the offensive. Blast after blast, you're doing your best to keep the Simurgh on the ropes. She dodges them and blocks with asteroids, but hopefully, this is putting at least some strain on her.

She deflects your latest blast by placing a ferrous asteroid in its path - that bit might have been an iron mine on your world. As megatons of iron particles explode in every direction under the force of your attack, you keep analyzing the Simurgh's structure. By now, you're almost positive her control core isn't in her head or torso. Just a little while longer, and…

That train of thought is interrupted when you realize you're dying.

Well, rather, your injuries are getting worse faster than you're regenerating. You're inches away from death.

It's not hard to tell why. Your cosmic senses can detect billions of nanomachines coursing across the outer layers of your body, shredding it with some kind of energy fractal claws. They've probably been at this for a while - you just didn't notice until now, despite your cosmic senses, because your attention was focused on analyzing the Simurgh.

Well, you're already mostly dead. You can't afford to become all-dead.

Without missing a beat, your cosmic blast surges… but this time, you're channelling it differently. The energy takes a new shape, exploding outward as a magnetic pulse of cosmic proportions. Every single nanomachine in your body is instantly obliterated.

You've experimented with this sort of magnetic blast before - good at destroying machinery, but, for obvious reasons, you can't use it inside a city: If you ever had, every building would be torn apart as the steel in its structure would be ripped away, converging on the center of the pulse at-

…

The ferrous asteroid.

Even at mental super-speed, you barely have the time to realize it: Just a few seconds ago, the Simurgh deflected your attack with a ferrous asteroid. There's still megatons of iron bits and pieces flying around… and all of it is converging toward you at dozens of kilometers per second, because you used a magnetic blast reflexively to deal with the nanomachines. As if you'd shot at yourself with a billion railguns.

You only have a short instant to act before this trap destroys you. Fast as you can, you move your power pool around, switching all of it to insubstantiality.

Several times the Empire State Building's mass in iron collides all around you, going faster than shooting stars. Yet another conflagration of cosmic violence, leading to large amounts of iron plasma floating around… but in your insubstantial form, it cannot hurt you.

You get out of that deathtrap, and back in range of the Simurgh. Ready to resume your combined analysis and harassment tactics… but without mental acceleration, it'll take far more time than you're willing to let the Simurgh have. You move your power pool back from intangibility to the regeneration-mind acceleration combo…

...and in the very millisecond you switch, an eighty-foot asteroid hits you from "above", going at several kilometers per second.

Like a bug splattered on a windshield, you are carried away by the asteroid. Unlike the bug, you are actually very much alive. Even in your injured state, this isn't enough to…

...and then, the tip of the asteroid near you gets bathed in the same ray that preceded the first explosion. The one that nearly killed you.

As the milliseconds tick, your accelerated mind can sense, within the asteroid, electrons turning into positrons. Quarks turning into anti-quarks. In another fraction of a second, this whole thing will erupt with more power than mankind's combined nuclear arsenal at the height of the Cold War, finishing the job of killing you.

This is how the Simurgh works. It's what she does. You think you're fighting her, and it's all part of her plan. The chase she's been leading you on? A distraction so she could send the nanomachines. The nanomachines? A bait to get you to almost kill yourself with the magnetic pulse. The magnetic pulse? A trick to make you drop mental super-speed just long enough for this deathtrap. She sees the future, and computes through possibilities with mental processing abilities beyond the ken of gods and mortals. That is why the Simurgh always wins.

You do not allow it. With the next millisecond, as particle and antiparticles begin their dance of mutual annihilation, you reach into fate, declaring that a short, unlikely (but not impossible) ebb in your cosmic energies allows you to switch your power pool back to intangibility in that very instant, ghosting through an explosion greater than a million nukes.

Deadly, but not as big as the explosion that shattered the planet (probably due to having less material getting annihilated this time). Putting a few dozen miles between yourself and the explosion, you drop intangibility, and resume regeneration and mental superspeed.

For all the good regeneration has been doing you. With only half your power pool fueling it, it's just not working fast enough to make any real difference in such a fast-paced fight. You're still half-dead, your entire body covered in what could very generously be described as third degree burns.

Stop. Think.

Your well-honed combat reflexes are working against you here - they help you react quickly, but your tried-and-true tactics were never designed to fight a precog. You don't know how to approach an opponent who sees your actions coming.

Well, you've been blessed (not literally) to work with some very intelligent heroes. What would some of your smarter teammates do?

Causality and Tracer Pulse, in their wildly different ways, are analytical geniuses. They would strive to figure the Simurgh and her plans out, thus getting a better idea of how to counter them. They have a point - knowledge is power, or at least one very important type thereof.

Techno-Paladin would treat the problem like a logic puzzle. He'd try to break it down to its components to find the solution. He'd examine the issue of an opponent who can predict your moves… well, actually, he'd point out that the Simurgh can only predict what you do without fate-manipulation. Does that mean that she can't see tactics you wouldn't employ unless fate-manipulation was on your side?

And Bleu-Blanc-Rouge? Bleu-Blanc-Rouge is a tactical thinker. He'd point out that, between your injuries, the intel she gets from precognition, the superior range of her telekinesis, and apparently the tinkertech she's prepared the battlefield with, the Simurgh has too many advantages. In that sort of situation, he would recommend stripping the enemy of their advantages one-by-one, until they no longer control the flow of the battle.

Very competent heroes, all of them. Their intellect has saved the day on many an occasion. Perhaps you can apply a fraction of their wisdom to your current predicament…

Well, you hope you can. Because you only have two more guaranteed uses of fate-manipulation left.

[ ] Operation Crazy Shooting: Normally, knowing about the Simurgh's precognitive dodging, you wouldn't even bother trying to blast her before getting into close-range. But, seeing as she can't predict your luck-control… You fly back toward her, then blast from medium range, twisting fate to make the shot.

Pros: Very simple plan, with few moving parts. Cons: It banks everything, including your most precious resource, on a shot that the Simurgh might still be able to dodge… and even if it does hit, how much damage will it actually cause her anyway?

[ ] Operation Stone Age: The Simurgh brought tinkertech into this. Well, that's one advantage you should take away now. Start peppering the area with EMPs to remove further nasty surprises.

Pros: You can do it while maintaining a safe distance from the Simurgh and any asteroid she could turn into an antimatter bomb. Cons: It's a space battle, with the insane volumes thus implied. EMPing the "battlefield" will take time, which the Simurgh will be using for her own plans.

[ ] Operation Role Reversal: One thing you definitely wouldn't try without luck-control on your side: Telepathic scans on the Simurgh. By using fate-manipulation to create a quick ebb in your power pool, you can reinforce its power for a short duration, allowing you to combine mental super-speed with extremely powerful mind-reading powers. Then, with your mind accelerated a thousandfold, you can read the Endbringer's own thoughts, discovering her plans, her contingencies, even her future visions.

Pros: If it works, you get to negate the Simurgh's biggest advantage, learning about her plans, her remaining devices, the guy in the pod… For once, the Simurgh could be forced to fight an enemy who knows at least as much as her. Cons: If.

[ ] Write-in.

BATTLE FROM THE MINDSCAPE

Briefly, you split your power pool between mental speed and long-range senses, to ensure no surprise is sneaking up on you for the next few seconds. Flying in a relatively empty spot where no debris can suddenly be made to self-annihilate, you then let go of mental super-speed for a dozen tense seconds, focusing your entire power pool on regeneration. When you take mental speed back, you are feeling much better - most of your bones are now in a single piece, over 95% of your flesh is there, and you have nearly 80% of your skin. From this point, partial regeneration should be able to handle the rest.

One of the Simurgh's advantages, removed.

Now, to remove her other advantages.

The biggest problem with the Simurgh, after all, is that she knows in advance what you're going to do. Take that away, and she actually becomes less of a threat than Leviathan. You just need to be clever about it.

As you fly back toward the Simurgh, you consider the possibilities. How does her precognition work, anyway? Is she somehow able to simulate the world in her head? Does she have a sense that takes an actual look at the future as information travels through time? The fact that her precognition has blind spots (such as your fate control and Scion) would suggest the former, but you're no scientist. If you engage on a course of action that you wouldn't engage on without the fate manipulation power on your side, does she see you engaging on it and failing, or doing what you would do if you didn't have this power?

If it's the former, then her precognition is telling her right now what you're trying to do; it's just not showing your odds of success getting greatly improved at the last moment through fate control.

If it's the latter, then her precognition is telling her right now that you're going to try to get in range of her and then, in a desperate gambit, try to block inter-planar activities, hoping to cancel her powers the way you briefly canceled Gray Boy's time-loop. After all, you're fairly confident that's what you would try if you didn't have fate-manipulation in your arsenal.

Well. On the chance that this is what she believes you're going to try… then you see no reason to dissuade her. And so, as you fly, you time your every moment and action as if you were genuinely enacting the power-nullifying tactic.

And then, as the distance between you and the Simurgh has shrunk to less than twenty miles, an asteroid halfway between you two explodes, yet another matter-antimatter annihilation.

The Simurgh can protect herself by taking cover behind a mountain-sized asteroid. You cannot - if you did, you imagine your "cover" would be the next object to explode. You are thus forced to take an intangible form for several seconds as the explosion washes over you. Having passed through the shockwave, you return to solid form and mental acceleration… but just before the latter power kicks in, lights shimmer before you… and then some kind of blade appears in your path, bisecting your right arm before you can change course.

Concerning. The weapon appears to be some kind of tinkertech device - the blade itself isn't a physical object, but some kind of elongated gravitational singularity, two feet long and less than a micron wide. The shimmering lights were the same that manifested during inter-dimensional jumps earlier - you're guessing whatever device the Simurgh is using to jump between dimensions, it was used to hide this blade, and make it appear in your path when it was too late to dodge and mental speed was unenhanced.

You destroy the weapon with a blast. ...Where does she get all these dangerous toys, anyway?

Wait. From your files, the Simurgh, while not herself a Tinker, can access the powers of every Tinker (and Thinker) within her range. What about the human in that pod? You didn't really get a good look at him, but…

Well. You're finally getting in range of the Simurgh. Close enough to engage in the tactic you would be following were it not for luck-control.

You focus your matter-creation power. The next instant, a sphere of pure omni-metal, two hundred feet in diameter and fifteen feet-thick, forms around you and the Simurgh.

Now, were it not for your luck-control powers, this would be where you focused your power pool on blocking inter-planar interactions to depower the Simurgh - not because you would expect it to work (blocking Gray Boy's time-loop for a few seconds exhausted you, and the Simurgh is an Endbringer), but because you'd be desperate and it would be your last chance gambit.

It's not what you do, of course. Instead, keeping your mental acceleration going, you…

...well, you put everything on hold as you notice three more of those "singularity blades" showing up at the edges of the sphere's interior, hidden as they were behind small debris. Flying gracefully thanks to the Simurgh's telekinesis, they're all heading toward you.

You almost blast one, but stop yourself a millisecond before you do - at a range of eighty feet, with the Simurgh's telekinesis and precognition, either she'd get the blade to dodge, or it would just distract you while the two other blades slice you into ribbons. An area blast centered on your position would be more likely to get all three blades… but, maybe the actual singularities will keep existing for a fraction of second after the tinkertech hilts' destruction, and slice you anyway? You could dodge, of course, but the Simurgh would see the movement before you performed it.

Unless, of course, you weren't behaving as predicted.

Cosmic power flows through your veins and soul. As the living incarnation of Heroism, you declare that in a moment of turning tides and shifting destinies, your power shatters limits. Your secondary power pool surges with excess energy.

Retaining your thousandfold mental acceleration, you divert the entire rest of your power pool to telepathic scanning. All thoughts leave a trace through the psychic planes; whether the brain that generates them is organic or not matters little to a sufficiently advanced form of scanning.

And thus, while the singularity blades rush in your direction, your focus dives into the Simurgh's mind.

Clinical. Methodical. Merciless. Ruthless. Pragmatic. Inhuman. Monstrous. Colossal.

The Simurgh's mind all but defies description. It is not human by any stretch of the imagination. It is closer to the mind of an AI, yet very different from that, too.

It is vast, processing oceans of information in the blink of an eye, maintaining hundreds of rapid thought processes simultaneously and coordinating them with deadly elegance.

It juggles cause and effect, answers arriving before questions are asked. A mere glimpse of this regimented pandemonium would shatter the average human mind.

Yours is not the average human mind.

When you were a fully-powered god, you could keep track of the affairs of the entire planet, almost in real time. As a mere avatar, you do not have quite the same processing power… but your perfect memory can still handle every detail of your millennia of existence. Your will is inviolable. Your drive is infinite.

Pushing through, you analyze the information as well as you are able.

But even as you wrestle with the telepathic scan, the picture it paints is terrifying.

You have gazed into many twisted minds over the course of your existence. Some were scarier than others.

You have gazed into the minds of petty bullies and selfish, self-absorbed fools.

You have gazed into the minds of abusers, sadists, serial killers.

And then… there exists a top tier of sorts, where the truly horrifying belong.

It's in that tier that one might find Nollius - the soulless tyrant of Avalon, the machiavellian master of curses, the immortal sadist who has refined sorcerous torture for a thousand years.

It's in that tier that one might find Astor - the god who embodies Hatred as purely and decisively as you embody Heroism, the very incarnation of hostility and malevolent intent, burning with infinite hatred for all that has ever existed or ever could exist.

It's in that tier that one might find Professor Cryo - the heartless Conqueror of Cold, the irredeemable evil genius whom supervillains the world over look to for leadership, the diabolical schemer without mercy who has managed to stay ahead of the entire world's collected heroes.

And it's in that tier that one might find the Simurgh, Third Endbringer, Terror Drone Seven.

Seven. That number alone is cause for alarm. Considering the years between each Endbringer's appearance, you'd been wondering if you were due for a fourth, but this little clue is still blood-chilling.

The Simurgh's short-term plans focus almost exclusively on killing you - you get the impression that she usually considers a lot more goals simultaneously, but apparently you're pushing her outside of her usual comfort zone right now. Now, her long-term plans… they seem focused on maintaining an environment that can support "the cycle". You can't find the exact nature of this cycle right now, but you do note a stray factoid - whatever the cycle is, the Simurgh considers it damaged beyond possible repair; a lost cause.

She doesn't care. Her programmed mission is to maintain an environment for the cycle, which apparently means a world of human conflict, fear, despair, and as many trigger events as possible. She doesn't care about the suffering of humanity. She doesn't care that it is all meaningless, in support of a cycle that is already doomed. She only cares about her programmed objective.

All that despair, all that destruction, all the evils committed by the Endbringers… the result of abandoned, discarded doomsday devices that just keep following their now-meaningless programming without rhyme or reason.

Her precognition… it's not just simulating reality. It's not just peeking at the future. It's some hybrid that combines the two, allowing an optimal ratio of information-per-energy she needs to expend. It extends a long way - several decades into the future, as well as postcognition into the past. Other Endbringers, Eidolon, Scion… those are partial blind spots to her sight. Interestingly, she doesn't actually have any sense showing her the present.

Her visions of the future, however, are horrifying enough:

A Canberran native, who was out of town and triggered when everyone he knew was trapped in a Simurgh containment zone, takes the nation's largest water reservoir hostage, threatening to poison it unless his family is released; the poison ends up spilled into the reservoir, starting a deadly water shortage.

The European Gesellschaft, after laying low for months, assassinating 18 non-white and non-straight candidates to the German Bundestag, less than a day before federal elections; various parties cannot agree on how to handle the electoral situation, leaving the German government in turmoil for nearly a year, helpless to deal with multiple crises.

Storm Rider, a Burmese parahuman warlord, unifying Myanmar under his rule, then waging a war of conquest against Thailand; over half a million die in the ensuing humanitarian crisis, prompting the CUI to invade both countries to "restore order", resulting in escalating conflict as Storm Rider proves surprisingly capable of outmaneuvering the Yangban.

And at some point… 18 months from now at the earliest, 22 years in the future at the latest… doomsday. Billions die across Earth Bet. Many, many more billions die in other worlds. Madman's words come back to you - is that the future doom he was speaking of? Whatever it is, the Simurgh cannot see the actual details of what causes it - another blind spot in its precognition. You can't find more accurate data on the matter right now.

Best focus on the more immediate future. With some effort, you are able to see the battle plan. You are able to see the contingencies. You are able to see the battle the way the Simurgh sees the battle.

The man in the pod is… Leet, the villainous Tinker from Brockton Bay. Apparently, she's been holding him for several days, accessing his mind to build a tinkertech arsenal (and also intending to use him as a hostage if it really came down to it). There's the singularity blades you're fighting right now. There's a device able to teleport things from one universe to another; it is, itself, hidden in a dimension that's neither here nor Earth Bet, but can be remotely controlled from here. There's Leet's pod, which in addition to life support has a quasi-inviolable force-field and remote controls for some of the other tech. There's a massive mass-accelerator built into an asteroid hidden among all the debris, able to shoot a 140-pound projectile at 99.5% of the speed of light. There's a device that blasts a ray capable of turning 50% of matter in an area into antimatter… and it is located on the Moon's surface.

The antimatter weapon, the mass-accelerator and the dimensional teleporter are all located outside of the Simurgh's telekinetic range. She can, however, wield them with exceptional precision using a remote controller floating at the edge of her range, tens of miles from here; failing that, she can use the remote controls inside Leet's pod. Should both remote controls be destroyed, the antimatter weapon and mass-accelerator are both programmed to try to kill you independently (though obviously their programs don't have the Simurgh's precision and precognition), while the dimensional teleporter is programmed to teleport everything from a specific point in the solar system to Earth-Bet's dimension at a specific second a week from now.

You can, with great effort, analyze the Simurgh's shifting battle plans. She's improvising in a way that you suspect she has little experience with - even Scion doesn't push her to the edge like this. She intended for the original blast to kill you… yet, she included these contingencies. You don't have the time to confirm it, but you suspect that she tends to have more plans going on than she lets on, with the ones that succeed giving her the appearance of infallibility. She also expected the second explosion, right after the magnetic trap trick, to kill you… but this time, she was readier to be surprised.

A second ago, she was expecting you to move in a certain pattern before a failed attempt at cutting her off her powers by blocking inter-planar travel, and then get sliced to ribbons by her singularity blades.

Right now, her plans are in flux. She senses that you have not acted in the way she intended, but her every attempt at recalculating the future gets rapidly-shifting results. No wonder - the results change as soon as she sees them because you can see them! You can see hundreds of possibilities even as the Endbringer considers them.

Objectively, you have only been trawling through the immensity of the Simurgh's mind for a few short seconds. Subjectively, thanks to mental super-speed, it is as if you've been exploring it for hours.

You cannot maintain it much longer. The surge in your cosmic power is receding. But that's all right. You have what you need.

Mind-reading goes away. Mental acceleration stays on. Inter-planar teleportation - not of yourself, but of others - stays on.

The singularity blades have been coming at you. You've been seeing their intended path. You just move out of the way. The Simurgh doesn't have enough time to fully adjust; one of them nicks you, barely. A scratch.

Even as the singularity blades flurry, your teleportation power takes hold of Leet's pod - the force-field protects it from physical and energy attacks, but not from this. With a blink, the pod and its occupants are transported to a different plane - one that should be mostly empty space if this were your home dimension, though here, you can only guess if it's the same. When you formulated this plan, toward the end of your exploration of the Simurgh's mind, you could see the possibility briefly showing up in the Endbringer's precognition (of course, that was only a few dozen milliseconds ago); the Simurgh's telekinesis and her ability to access Tinker powers do not cross planes.

She cannot build or modify tinkertech right now. She could, however, still use the tinkertech she has thanks to the hidden remote miles from here, using her precognition for guidance. She could use the dimensional teleporter to get Leet back; you've seen it in her mind.

Which is why, less than a second after teleporting Leet away, you blast.

You're not firing your usual cosmic energy. Instead, you are converting the energy to a wavelength on the electromagnetic spectrum - high enough frequency that much of it gets past the omni-metal shell surrounding you, but low enough that most of it still bounces inside the sphere, obliterating the tinkertech hilts of the remaining singularity blades. More importantly, the part of the blast that does get out travels in a cone… toward the location of the remote control. The Simurgh only saw that future becoming a possibility a few seconds ago, while you were reading her mind… and those seconds are not a long enough time for her telekinesis to get the (far more fragile than an Endbringer) remote-control out of the area of your cone attack.

You can't actually sense the remote from here (not without transferring your power pool to long-range scanning, at least). However, judging from the information you saw in the Simurgh's mind seconds ago, you are fairly confident in the success of your attack.

Causality and Tracer Pulse would tell you to obtain more intel on your foe and the situation. You have done so, gazing directly into the Simurgh's mind to learn how she thinks and what she's planning.

Techno-Paladin would tell you to break the problem down into something you can solve. You have done so, using your one power the Simurgh cannot predict, and forging from it a course of action she couldn't see coming.

Bleu-Blanc-Rouge would tell to take away the enemy's advantages one by one. Despite your missing arm, you are in far better health than forty seconds ago; the Simurgh's abilities and thought process are far clearer to you now; her tinkertech resources have been curbed. Advantage: Yours.

Well… the mass accelerator and the antimatter weapon are still online, if outside her direct control. Which is probably why she is currently scurrying to one end of the sphere. Also, why you transfer the entirety of your secondary power pool to intangibility.

This turns out to be a good idea when, two seconds later, the omni-metal sphere shatters with super-strong debris flying in every direction. The work of the mass-accelerator cannon, presumably. Less than three seconds later, the entire area is engulfed in a maelstrom of energy as the antimatter device joins in on the fun.

The Simurgh, for her part, is flying as far away as she can… well, actually, she might just be using her precognition to manipulate events so that one of the two remaining superweapons ends up nailing you. You suspect that's what she would do.

Well. Only one of you is leaving this battle alive. You have to be careful, though - you only have one definite luck control shot left. Well, two if you push yourself. You also have two civilization-killer tinkertech superweapons automatically firing at you.

[ ] Operation We Don't Need No Stinking Plan: The Simurgh is probably more off her game than ever before. Just keep flying around too quickly for the superweapon to aim at you, and keep blasting her. Use luck control to land a hit if needed.

Pros: Gets you on the offense instantly. Cons: There's still no guarantee of the Simurgh going down in one hit, and she might lure you into the superweapons' crosshairs.

[ ] Operation Clear The Board: This time, you actually know where the superweapons are. Take a minute to fly to the mass-accelerator and destroy it. The Moon's too far away to get there in time, but you can hit the general area of the antimatter weapon with nuclear-grade energy blasts.

Pros: With those gone, the Simurgh doesn't actually have much left to fight you with. Cons: Would take several minutes, and who knows what the Simurgh will do in the meanwhile?

[ ] Operation Brain Drain: You can go to the plane where you stashed Leet. From the looks of it, he was in no state to make a meaningful contribution… but you can read his mind at your leisure, getting data on the remaining tinkertech and how to turn it to your advantage.

Pros: The Simurgh doesn't have anything that can target you while you're in another plane, and getting the tinkertech on your side could be a game-changer. Cons: You're no engineer, and there's no guarantee you would get any useful insight from this at all. Besides, when you'd emerge back from that plane, you'd be doing so after giving the Simurgh time to get ready for your return.

[ ] Operation Audie Murphy Tips His Hat: The Simurgh is still guessing what your fate-manipulation power can do. So far, in this battle, you've only used it to help yourself… but you can also use it to give a villain a really unfortunate moment. And getting accidentally hit by your own automated superweapon, leaving you vulnerable to an attack by a pissed-off divine avatar, would be a terribly unlucky incident, wouldn't it?

Pros: Doesn't waste time, and in fact turns the Simurgh's likely current plan to your advantage. Likely impossible for her to see it coming. Cons: Requires one use of fate-manipulation to pull off, and for you to avoid becoming collateral damage yourself.

FIRE IN THE SKY

You've shattered the Simurgh's plans. You've destroyed most of her tools, taken away her Tinker abilities, destroyed her remotes. She's all but helpless.

Or is she? If you were in the Simurgh's shoes, would you be writing this battle off as hopelessly lost?

No, of course not. You'd keep trying to win, or at least survive, by doing something clever. Maybe, using your precognition, you'd maneuver your foe into the crosshairs of your automated superweapons. Maybe you'd rely on your perfect postcognition to duplicate the tinkertech devices you've built earlier from scratch. Maybe you'd dive for safety into the molten core of the planet below. Or something. You're a smart guy, and you don't believe in hopeless situations. The Simurgh is a smart terror drone, and it almost certainly doesn't consider this situation hopeless. You won't make the mistake of treating this battle as already won.

And the thing is, this is a battle that must be won. Not only because your death would be a terrible blow to the fragile Earth-Bet. Not only because your loss would leave your own world perilously vulnerable to the doom coming for it. But also because the Simurgh, monster among monsters and murderer of hope, cannot be allowed to go on. So long as the Simurgh exists, hope in Earth-Bet will be a delusion. So long as the Simurgh exists, Earth-Bet is doomed to tragedy and despair. And so long as a iota of energy flows through you, there is nowhere left for the Simurgh to hide!

Resuming mental super-speed and slow regeneration, you fly about, ignoring the scratches you get from sharp pieces of omni-metal shrapnel being flung at you telekinetically. You need to kill the Simurgh. You can't leave her the time to recover and enact a counter-plan.

You need an attack powerful enough to hurt her, preferably even kill her.

You need your attack to actually hit despite her precognition.

You need to attack while defending yourself from her superweapons, and anything else she can use against you.

You need to do it in a way that counters her own plans, which probably means enacting a plan you wouldn't enact without fate-manipulation on your side.

Over the next few subjective minutes (a fraction of an objective second), you ponder all those requirements. As you do, something occurs to you:

Over and over during the course of human History, you have watched strategists, warriors, schemers, game-players and other masters of conflict learning and teaching this lesson: The best attack is also a defense that disrupts the enemy's plans. The best defense is also an attack. Economy of action.

The Simurgh's most likely plan right now is getting you struck by her superweapons. Sure, you're flying around too quickly for them to properly target you… but with her precognition, she can manipulate events just right so that they nail you anyway.

If you had no fate-manipulation abilities, what would you do? Well. You would clear the board. You would teleport next to the mass-accelerator, obliterate it, then try to destroy the antimatter weapon with long-ranged laser blasts, so that you could focus on killing the Simurgh while having one less thing to worry about.

But it's been several seconds since you've last disrupted the Simurgh's information flow. Time enough for her to have a new plan. She can probably see a future you teleporting next to the mass-accelerator. If you were to guess, she's probably flying around, striking you with debris, in a specific manner so as to influence your timing. Get you to teleport next to the mass-accelerator right on cue for the antimatter weapon to detect you and fire on it, obliterating you with the ensuing explosion.

Unless… well, that specific insight isn't born of fate-manipulation. Meaning the Simurgh can probably predict you predicting it. So, maybe she's actually planning on you not enacting that plan, getting nailed by the superweapons right here instead.

Ah, right. The usual problem of dealing with the Simurgh: Whatever plan you pick, she knows about it before you do and has already prepared the best possible counter.

So, instead, you perform something she can't predict. Something you wouldn't do without fate-manipulation.

You go insubstantial, and fly right next to the Simurgh.

Without luck-control, that'd be a terrible plan. While intangible, you can't blast her, or really do anything with your regular powers. You're safe from her attacks, yes, but she's also safe from you for the duration. On the surface, all this accomplishes is giving her more time to plan. Normally, you wouldn't do it… and so, she presumably did not predict it.

She flies at high speed away from some debris, and you follow at hyperspeed. The next second, the mass-accelerator fires its payload at near-luminal speed; a projectile with kinetic energy five orders of magnitude beyond the Hiroshima explosion harmlessly passes through your insubstantial form.

Good. The mass-accelerator needs a little over ten seconds to reload. Plenty of time for another thing the Simurgh couldn't predict.

So far, you have used fate-manipulation to help yourself. Saving your life twice. Getting a brief boost in power.

That's not, however, the full extent of that power's capabilities. It's not restricted to your luck.

Your power pool shifts. No longer intangible, your body is now solid… and completely immune to energy attacks, as it conducts energy like a superconductor does electricity. In this state, you are safe from the antimatter weapon. You become vulnerable to the Simurgh's telekinetic strikes (slightly) and to the mass-accelerator (or will be in ten seconds once it has reloaded), but you can blast the Endbringer.

You do not. Not yet. Instead, you reach out to fate. You seize destiny. You declare what turn events now take.

Up on the Moon, over two hundred thousand miles from here, the automated antimatter weapon tries its best to track you down despite the distance, your fast movements, and the massive cloud of debris obscuring its sensors' perception.

You declare that, faced with such murky data, the program makes a mistake. For the briefest of instants, it confuses one fast-moving object with another nearby one.

You grin at the Simurgh.

You suspect it is an optical illusion, but for a tiny moment, it looked like the Endbringer's eyes were opening really wide.

And then, the ray hits the Simurgh.

You are engulfed in pure whiteness. Every frequency of the electromagnetic spectrum is saturated beyond even your cosmic senses' ability to evaluate. There are so many neutrinos traversing you, that you can actually feel a physical push from the minuscule fraction of them that collides with your body.

The explosion that broke the planet below is nothing in comparison. This must be closer to… what? A quadrillion H-bombs? A quintillion? A sextillion? It's too big for you to estimate.

The light fades, and space around you has been… cleared. Gone is the debris, the asteroids, the magma floating around you - all of it is being swept away by an expanding wave of energy. A glance in the direction of the mass-accelerator reveals nothing left there. The planet below you has been vaporized. The Moon, far more distant, is still there… but its surface, or at least this side of it, is now boiling magma. Neither of the two remaining superweapons had the resilience to survive something like this.

And at the center of that cataclysmic explosion? The Simurgh. The ablative armor of the third Endbringer is gone. All that is left of Terror Drone Seven - a part apparently exempt from this particular chapter of the laws of physics - is its skeletal core, which is now filled with cracks and fissures. With so much of the Endbringer gone, it is trivial for your cosmic senses to detect its control core, at the base of one of its wings.

The Simurgh's skeletal core has no facial features. Somehow, its body language still conveys a sense of resignation as, your expression once again serious, you let out a slow-moving, high-power blast. Pushing your fate-manipulation to the point of exhaustion, you ensure that the blast strikes the Endbringer's control core and destroys it utterly.

You then instantly go back to an intangible form, just in case there's another attack coming. You stay in that form for the next several minutes, using your cosmic awareness to thoroughly scan the Endbringer.

No hidden surprises. The Simurgh is well and truly dead.

"He got her. He actually got her."

Several pairs of eyes watched with wonder.

"Now what?"

"Now, we verify that it's really the victory it looks like," said Alexandria. "Contessa, path to…"

When he had gotten yanked through the air and away from the city, Leet had been incredibly confused at first.

When he'd realized the Simurgh had abducted him, he'd screamed. Ironically, he couldn't hear the Endbringer's signature scream; he wasn't sure if that scared him less, or even more.

He'd lost track of time, helpless prisoner of the scariest creature in the universe while she built her arsenal. He'd spent whole days praying to God for help. At some point, he'd started praying to Scion. At some point, he started praying to the Avatar. Had he actually started praying to Shigeru Miyamoto, or had that been a fever dream? Eventually, he'd just slid into silent, catatonic despair.

Then the planet below exploded. Armaggeddon. The Avatar was there, fighting the Simurgh.

And then, blackness. A dark space without even the light of the stars. For a moment, he thought he had died and gone to the hereafter, before realizing he was still in his pod, surrounded by filth.

And then there was light, as the Avatar appeared.

"Leet, can you hear me?" Obviously, this conversation requires the application of your communication powers.

The villain nods almost imperceptibly, and you go on: "I have killed the Simurgh. I'm just wrapping up loose ends, and hopefully then we can both go home. I'm scanning your brain right now, just to be on the safe side. From the looks of it, you're safe." Well, he's a traumatized, broken man, but hopefully therapy, rest and relaxation can fix that.

Of course, there's the matter of actually going home. You could wait a week for the dimensional teleporter to activate, but without the Simurgh's precognition, it would be incredibly difficult to position yourself at the exact right spot to take advantage of it. You could work with Leet to replicate dimensional-travel tech, though there's no guarantee you could pull it off.

Or… Well… When you were trawling through the Simurgh's mind, certain details just jumped at you. Her thought process about the dimensional teleporter. Some of possible future chains of events she was considering. It was almost as if…

Well. Time to put it to the test.

Once again, you engage your inter-planar travel power. This time, however, you look deeper than you have in millennia. And you see.

Oh, you can see the various planes of reality. That is to be expected. However, you can also something else. Other universes. Other Earths. Other dimensions.

You do not have the slightest idea how this is even possible, but somehow, an astronomical number of universes have been connected, stacked upon each other as if they were merely parallel planes. You don't need Madman's physics-breaking technology to travel between these worlds - you can cross from one to another on your own power!

You test that hypothesis by crossing over to the dimension where the Simurgh stashed the dimensional teleporter. It works. Leet, still with you, gasps (possibly at seeing for the first time the corpse of the Simurgh, which you are also taking with you).

You blast the machine to monoatomic dust. It's a pity to destroy such potentially useful technology, but you are loath to leave operational anything designed by the Simurgh; there might be a trap you are not aware off.

Your next destination is Earth-Bet.

Taylor - Weaver - wasn't entirely sure what to do. The ever-growing assembly of capes, under Legend's command, was mostly just waiting for a new development while the Endbringer sirens kept blaring.

It was interesting that Tattletale was talking to Legend. If she were to make a guess, the Thinker's contributions to the Leviathan fight had earned her some notice.

It was odd, seeing Uber with the Undersiders. Especially after he and Leet had almost gotten them killed not so long ago. But then, not so long ago, she'd been one of them herself. Things changed quickly.

It was Brian - Grue - who approached her.

"Hey."

"So… First time we see you since Coil's arrest. How are you holding up?"

"I'm… fine, I guess. I'm back with dad. We're much better now. I told him about the whole thing."

Grue's head jerked. "You did? He saw the rest of us out of costume."

"I explained the unwritten rules to him. You guys don't need to worry. Besides, we're likely being moved to Boston."

"Oh. Boston, huh? Bigger city, but lower cape-per-capita than the Bay."

"I guess. How are you guys doing?"

"Fine, fine. Tattletale got a big paycheck for helping with Leviathan's autopsy, so we can afford to stay out of trouble, mostly." He paused. "Bitch is still mad at you."

That wasn't surprising. Truth be told, she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Her first meeting with Bitch/Rachel had been violent and angry. After a while, she'd made a genuine effort to become her friend. She valued the progress she'd made. But the girl had had no compunction at all about leaving Dinah Alcott to her fate, and that had been a bitter pill to swallow.

And what now? What had the Simurgh done to the Avatar? What was she going to do to Brockton Bay?

Then she sky parted.

The Avatar flew through it, with some kind of pod and… something that looked a lot like Leviathan's corpse, but with a size and general shape that suggested…

And then, a hologram of the Avatar addressing her. His communication power, she realized.

"People of Brockton Bay, this is the Avatar speaking. A few minutes ago, the Simurgh used inter-dimensional teleportation resources to pull me into a trap. I have fought her in that other dimension, and was able to destroy her. This threat has passed."

Taylor was vaguely aware that she had stopped breathing.

Then, there was a flash. Strider, bringing in Alexandria. The Triumvirate heroine flew next to the Avatar, speaking through the armbands. "Alexandria here. A PRT Thinker tank has been monitoring the fight. We can confirm everything he just said. Endbringer down."

You glance, with some surprise, at Alexandria. "You were able to observe the fight?"

She frowns. "The PRT has some resources that we would have preferred to keep secret. However, it's worth playing some of our hidden cards on the table… or at least admitting we have some hidden cards… if it keeps the majority of the public from guessing, for years to come, whether the Simurgh is really dead, and if you're the real Avatar or some doppleganger she set up.

"Speaking of which…" she glances at the Simurgh's corpse.

"Should I bring it to the same place as Leviathan?"

"God, no. We'll manage with just one of those for the time being. No, we want you to destroy this thing. Preferably in full view of everyone."

You smile at that. You understand the value of symbols, after all.

And so, telekinetically raising the Endbringer's remains up in the air, you spent the next dozen seconds gathering a colossal amount of cosmic energy in your arm, before unleashing it upward in a world-shaking torrent of annihilation that destroys every last physical trace of the Simurgh.

And all over the city, the people cheer.

You imagine that, considering what just happened, you are about to spend a lot of time in PRT interview rooms, asking a whole lot of questions and undergoing extensive monitoring. You can't blame them. With that said, you could push and emphasize one aspect…

[ ] It was only a partial picture, but you were able to see several terrible visions of future doom in the Simurgh's mind. You emphasize the need and opportunity to stop them… as well as the need to investigate the mysterious future event that kills billions.

[ ] You already suspected it, and the glimpses into the Simurgh's mind have confirmed it: There are more Endbringers than those known to man. It would not surprise you if more were to emerge. You emphasize the need to prepare for future battles, maybe discover more about the Endbringers prior to that.

[ ] Your home dimension remains as frustratingly inaccessible as before, but Earth-Aleph and countless others are open to you. You emphasize the potential for good, should different worlds band together.

(INTERLUDE) PERSPECTIVES: THE KINGS OF PRIDE

"My lord, your books have arrived."

"MUCH OBLIGED. BRING THEM TO ME."

His tinkertech armor had, among many other features, a voice modulator. He found that being loud (within reason) without straining his throat helped his image.

The morning's books were brought to him on a platter. He touched the first one - a manual for learning the Hmong language - and activated his power.

Information flooded his mind. Any advice or rule described inside the book instantly and seamlessly wrote itself into his memory with perfect recall.

The next book was related to the first one - this time, it was a Hmong dictionary. With his power, knowledge of thousands upon thousands of words instantly became second-nature. He experimented a bit, saying a few sentences to himself.

Hmong might not have seemed like the most useful language to learn in that day and age. But he'd already used his power to learn 103 other languages (not counting his native Spanish, or the English and Mandarin he had learned the old-fashioned way prior to triggering); why not keep filling any possible gaps?

The next book was a yang taiji manual. He'd processed hundreds of martial arts books over the years, including one for this particular style… but it wasn't the same book. And as he processed it, he felt the slight yet significant differences in its teachings. His combat reflexes adjusted, as if he had practiced all the techniques in the book long enough for them to become second nature.

There was, of course, a lot of overlap between the martial arts of the world. Studying so many of them led to a lot of redundancy. Even so, making small improvements was worth his while - it only took a few seconds, after all.

Not for the first time, he remembered Bruce Lee's words. "I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times." But what if you had a power that let you practice 10,000 kicks once, and know each one of them as if you had practiced it 10,000 times?

The fourth book was titled "Big Fish in a Big Pond". It was a business manual written by a retired CEO who felt his ideas on how to properly run a company were worth sharing as a self-improvement manual; it had been published two days earlier. Processing it revealed little of use that he hadn't gotten from better books on the subject, and even some advice that outright contradicted the more trusted sources. It wasn't a complete waste, though, as the author at least had one original and semi-clever insight about corporate mergers.

There was no fifth book, but instead, a USB key on which his underlings had compiled information, like every day. As he touched it, he absorbed the data - every research paper to have been published online in the past 24 hours. It helped to keep track of the sciences, after all (and, in some cases, the humanities).

With that daily ritual taken care off, he strode to the situation room.

There were rarely less than eight minions in the situation room at all times, keeping abreast of his empire's developing situation. There were eleven at the moment; two of them were among the Thinkers who had accepted him as their liege.

"GOOD MORNING," he said as he strode into the room. Touching his personal console, he instantly learned all the information he could from it - recent developments, mostly, though it would also have told him everything about how to use the machine if he hadn't known it already. Any device he touched became in a second a device he knew how to use.

Tinkertech was only a partial exception. His power told him how to use it, even how to properly maintain it… but not how to build it, or repair damage it had suffered. As such, while he could personally maintain the vast array of gadgets in his armor, losing any one of the Tinkers who had worked on it could lead to irrevocable losses down the line.

Granted, of the 93 capes who currently served him - more than any other cartel in Mexico - as many as eight were Tinkers. He was confident that he would not soon run out of useful toys.

"Lord Cognito!" His minions respectfully acknowledged his presence. "The evidence about commissioner Barrales is good. In other blackmail-related news, the border guards found our cocaine truck, but were willing to look the other way for a few grands. We caught it all on camera."

"SO JUST AS PLANNED, THEN." In truth, very little on his smuggling was done by crossing the border nowadays. He had a working tinkertech teleporter that could send daily tons of merchandise (narcotics, guns, and so much more) from a Mexican warehouse to an American one or vice-versa every day. Still, he wanted border guards in his pockets - you never knew when they might come in handy. The Tinker who had build the teleporter might suffer an unfortunate fate, to name but one possibility.

"Yes my lord. We are still working toward identifying the 'Red Ninja' in Coyoacán…"

"HIS NAME IS MIGUEL NIETO." He had used his power on all the latest phonebooks for the country (and several other countries). He had, more than once, been able to touch the computers housing the database of the Mexican Federal Police, as well as those of the municipal one, absorbing all the information therein (including passwords). In short, he had access to a wealth of information that, when correlated with what his minions had found out last night, easily yielded the identity of the newest local cape. "GET SURVEILLANCE WORKING ON HIM. WHEN WE HAVE SOME IDEA OF THE SORT OF MAN HE IS, I WILL CONTACT HIS COSTUMED SELF AND EXTEND AN OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT."

"What if he refuses, sir? So far, he's acting like a vigilante, not a villain."

He grinned under the helmet. "I CAN BE RATHER PERSUASIVE." That much was true. Several of the how-to guides he had absorbed related to rhetorics, negotiations and the art of persuasion. "AND IF HE PERSISTS?" He steepled his armored fingers. "THEN I WELCOME THE HEROIC OPPOSITION. OUR ENEMIES KEEP US SHARP."

The next couple hours were appropriately busy. He gave further instructions to the lab for tests to run on the latest narcotic (as psychologically addictive as heroin, but more pleasurable… and, once they worked out a few kinks, less damaging to the body and brain, keeping the clientele alive). He coached Banshee, whom he believed had the potential to make a truly great supervillain, perhaps even becoming his second-in-command one day.

He had a shell company buy eighty million pesos' worth of debt from a credit card company; going over the debtor list, he quickly determined which debts to forgive (it would be a shame if one were to rule without demonstrating some clemency toward the peasantry, after all) and which ones to capitalize on, for either money or blackmail (desperate debtors could make for convenient minions when one was shorthanded). He took a phone call from the Omega Cartel's leader, Deadmask, humoring the man as he ranted about the Protectorate's latest move and the importance of keeping it out of Mexico.

Then, finally, it was time.

Stepping through the teleporter, he was transported to a lavish conference room. A neutral location.

He had made sure to arrive precisely on time. Three others had arrived slightly earlier.

A woman of Arabic descent - not that her ethnicity or gender could be detected under that armor. Bariq, as she called herself, was no Tinker, but like him she had several under her employ. Her armor had been designed to take advantage of her electrokinesis, without impeding her super-speed. He had seen videos of her in battle - back in 2007, when twelve Kurdish capes had attempted a pincer attack on her in an urban environment, she had crushed them too fast for them to adjust their tactics and positions.

A massive, bearded Asian man. Seven feet tall and bulging with muscles, Storm Rider looked like he could crush a man's skull with one hand. In reality, of course, his natural girth and strength were fairly irrelevant in battle; the Burmese cape tended to win his fights using his exceptional aerokinesis, which seemed to provide him with perfect control over all air in a 30-feet radius. His control was fine enough that the air around him stopped bullets, carried him flying through the skies, and more. In theory, he could probably kill everyone in the room with a single thought. That knowledge did not make Cognito even a little nervous - Storm Rider's psych profile had been rather exhaustive, after all.

The last person was an African woman. Amusingly enough, despite being the only actual Tinker invited to this conference, Swarm had arrived wearing a business suit, without any actual tinkertech. Presumably, she did not want to give him anything to use his power on. If anything, he had to respect that - it took courage for a Tinker to show up at this sort of meeting without their usual defenses. Of course, he had actually retrieved samples of her tech a long time ago for analysis…

"Ah, Cognito!" Storm Rider spoke jovially in English - Cognito personally knew the native language of every person invited there, but English was going to be the only language shared by all. "And right on time! Only two more left to join our table!"

Cognito could have rolled his eyes undetected under the mask, be refrained from doing so anyway. Storm Rider was brash, loud, forward… and, by all accounts, a tactical genius with an exceptional talent for leadership. High-level Shaker or not, the man who was halfway to conquering a country as large as Myanmar was not accomplishing it by being stupid.

"A pleasure to meet you," Swarm said politely, her accent rather distinctive of her Ivory Coast origins. "I trust that there will be no surprises?"

"If there will, then I do not intend for them to come by my hand," said Cognito, his voice modulator set to an unaugmented volume for once. In a meeting like this, with six strong personalities, all of them ruthless, maintaining good will among all parties was going to be vital. It helped that, being located on distant parts of the world, they had little to no competing interests at this point in time. That would change with years to come, of course - Cognito's ambitions did not stop at the Americas - but for now, a temporary alliance was possible.

"That is good to know," said Swarm. "Though it seems your last two invitees prefer to be fashionably late."

"Now, Swarm. Considering their personalities, that is very much to be expected."

Four minutes later, while Storm Rider was congratulating Bariq on her latest victories on her domain's iranian border, the fifth invitee arrived. An elegant black dress, jewelry that hit just the fine line between tasteful and extravagant, the sort of beauty that usually required money (more specifically, a biokinesist retainer) to buy… The Queen of Black and White (or "Koroleva" for short) had invested a lot in being able to make a memorable entrance.

Her actual power might be assisting her - though the Russian Thinker never discussed her powers in public, Cognito's research had led him to conclude it was a type of precognitive intuition; her power gave her reliable hunches on whether her courses of action were likely to succeed, and whether odds of success were likely to get better or worse over time. It was the sort of power that an intelligent, resourceful cape could do a lot with… and Koroleva, a master-ranked chess player (prior to gaining her powers) who had risen to become one of Russia's most powerful oligarchs, was certainly intelligent.

"Queen of Black and White! A pleasure to see you among our numbers today."

"The pleasure is all mine, Cognito. I do so rarely get the opportunity to speak to my equals."

He did not take offense at the insult. Really, he felt less anger than pity for those deluded enough to consider themselves his equals. But then… knowing what he knew of Koroleva, he doubted she considered anyone her equal any more than he did. And she was savvy enough to understand his own feelings on the matter. This was playful banter, and nothing more.

"I do take pleasure in surrounding myself with the intelligent and competent," he chuckled, "which regrettably is not always possible when running a sufficiently large organization. God knows I do what I can to properly train my minions, but even that only goes so far."

"I know all too well that of which you speak. But, I cannot help but notice… it seems to me that one final attendant has yet to arrive."

"I imagine that in his views, anyone arriving before him is simply being early."

As it happened, it was less than a minute later that the last attendee arrived. Of the six of them, Throne's appearance was no doubt the most striking. Even albinism could not have explained his eyes' shade of crimson, and Cognito doubted any hair dye was involved in the cape's golden hair - not blond, but actually gold-colored, with a metallic sheen. It was almost enough to draw attention away from the two ornate swords the man carried, one to each side in their golden sheaths.

Everyone else in the room was ultimately human, superpowers notwithstanding. With Throne, that was less clear-cut. After the Simurgh's nature came to light in Lausanne's aftermath, Uzbekistan's government had gotten scared enough to try and create some anti-Endbringer measure of their own; they had hired a local bio-Tinker, given him a blank check to create them super-soldiers. The Tinker had grown Throne in a vat, given him enhanced senses, great strength (enough to deadlift over a ton in Cognito's estimation) with the resilience to match, superhuman speed (perhaps not to bullet-dodging degrees, but enough to confer a clear advantage in battle)... and one Cauldron vial. Cognito suspected the bio-Tinker had been a Cauldron cape himself.

The vial had given Throne the power to summon swords ex nihilo, banishing them and summoning them again as needed. Much more importantly, it gave him the power to imbue each new sword with the powers of a parahuman recently killed by him. He could simultaneously wield any combination of two of his swords along with the powers imbued into them. And, considering the abilities of some of the capes he had slain… as well as his aptitude at combining them effectively… he was beyond doubt the most powerful person in the room, at least where sheer parahuman powers were concerned.

"I see all the plebeians are here," Throne said, with that amazingly punchable, smug, superior expression that Cognito felt just begged for a quick lesson in the true pecking order of the universe. But, no. He had gathered these people for a reason. He could tolerate the man's eccentricities for a little while. "Now, king of narcotics, I give you the floor."

"You give him the floor?" Bariq's tone was a mix of anger and sarcasm. "Cognito arranged this meeting, and this is neutral grounds."

Throne gazed at her with mocking condescension. "The world is my court. So-called neutral grounds are as much my possession as anything else."

"Now, now," said Koroleva, "If we engage on such lines of discussion, we'll never get anything done. Cognito, if you will?"

"Thank you, everyone," he gestured for them all to sit around the table. A round one, of course - the others lacked the good sense to accept him at the table's head. Surveying the other five, he spoke:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are here united by certain important things that we have in common. We are, each and every single one of us, powerful conquerors, competent leaders, kings by our own hand." He went over them, starting from the person to his left and going clockwise:

"Swarm, a most capable Tinker, is the undisputed queen of the Ivory Coast." Ivory Coast had been one of the last surviving democracies of the African continent, managing to maintain some measure of order even after the fall of the Cognoscenti. With the financial crisis sweeping the region, the government had avoided collapse by nationalizing several major businesses to steer the economy as needed.

That had ended when they had nationalized the country's largest Internet service provider; the company's ambitious CEO had triggered, then used her financial resources to mass-produce small drones made of "smart gel" that could assemble into any shape and configuration. With tens of tons of her dones following her commands, Swarm had been able to control any battlefield; hiring multiple villainous and mercenary capes, she had led a coup, executed most of the government, and started running the country like a corporation. The Ivory Coast managed to squeeze enough profits to maintain a semi-stable army of mercenary capes, making it a major power in West Africa.

"Bariq, wielding the lightning like a modern-day Zeus, is stabilizing her hold over Iraq." Who the electrokinetic speedster had been before becoming a cape was unknown even to him, but she had appeared five years ago - six years after the old Iraqi regime had been swept away in a parahuman coup, with the country already fragmenting. She had fought army after army, cape after cape, recruiting those who were willing to follow her and killing those who weren't. Seeing her in battle, it was easy to mistake her for a mindless berserker, but her track record revealed a keen tactical and strategic mind - she had seized vital resources, made sure her strongest enemies had cause to fight each other, destroyed tenacious opponents just when they thought they were safe, and finally unified the country in 2009 by crushing the Kurdish independentist capes.

Kuwait was in the process of giving her its allegiance just to benefit from her protection against other neighbors, and, from her attitude toward Iran and Saudi Arabia, Cognito suspected she had major plans for the global petroleum market.

"Storm Rider, like a Burmese Alexander of Macedon, has conquered over half of Myanmar in a shockingly short amount of time, and will no doubt conquer the rest before the year has ended." Storm Rider's rise had been meteoric. The man's tactical ability to turn the tide of battle against other capes was almost equal to Cognito's own genius. As for his charisma, his ability to convince the defeated to flock to his banner, it was something to behold.

Myanmar had a population close to fifty million people, and a relatively high percentage of capes; for a man without an initial power base to rule over half of it less than a year after triggering was nothing to scoff at. Storm Rider seemed to have little interest in civilian rule, though, generally placing an only slightly modified version of the local authorities in charge after making them pledge allegiance to him.

"Throne, the king of a myriad powers, has for years ruled the whole of Uzbekistan and significant chunks of its neighbors." Though the gold-haired man (humanoid?) had been created to serve as a super-soldier, he had been quick to turn against his creators. He had proceeded to single-handedly wage war on the Uzbek government, killing its capes in doves, adding more swords and powersets to his arsenal before finally taking control of the nation. It was rather telling that Throne had less parahuman minions than anyone else at the table, yet still held more control over his kingdom than any of them - his powers made him utterly terrifying to oppose. For most people, at least.

"The Queen of Black and White, oligarch of Saint Petersburg and puppetmistress of Russian politics." Koroleva's family had been actual Russian nobility, among the "White Russians" who went into exile after the October Revolution. She had returned to the country following the Soviet regime's collapse in 1993, hoping to reclaim old glories. Behemoth's attack on Moscow, two years later, had been her trigger event. In the chaos of those days, she had been able to use her power efficiently but discreetly, seizing control of financial resources through means of varying legality, convincing other capes to follow her, and making herself a figure of reconstruction. In the years since, while Moscow remained the official capital, Saint Petersburg had become the new seat of power, and Koroleva had become the city's de facto mistress.

The city's elite saw their careers and social relevance live or die at her pleasure. The mayor, city councilors, the commissioner, all of them were handpicked by her. Majority shares in the country's three largest banks were owned by either her or people she had significant holds over. Without being the country's absolute ruler, she had nevertheless become its most powerful individual.

"And of course, I, Cognito, premier supervillain of the United Mexican States, with a reach extending well beyond national borders." And future ruler of the world, of course, but outright stating it in such a context would be gauche. "The caliber of individuals present in this room represents the best of humanity. We are its nobility - the superior minds, those whom the rest need to lead them to glory. Not all can be present here today, alas - Teacher, for obvious reasons, failed to make the cut, Moord Nag is regrettably unavailable, and certain others… lack the necessary courage for the venture we must discuss."

"You speak of kings," Throne said, that small, smug smirk not fading even as he helped himself to the vintage wine. "While I concede no equals, I would not deny that Swarm and Bariq are queens of their lands. Storm Rider may not have finished his nation's conquest yet, but he has earned kingship as surely as them. What of you and the self-declared Queen of Black and White, then? You wear no crowns. Would you call yourselves the King of Crime, and the Queen of Socialites?"

Cognito's opinion of Koroleva went up a notch at her collected response: "That is a title I would claim with pride, King of Capes! If allowing the rabble some illusion of self-rule cuts down the time I need to establish my genuine control, then let them have their illusions; let modern politics be the bread and circuses of this age. I hold my court at galas, charity balls, and other gatherings were the elite give me hommage and plead for my favor. It is true that I have less experience than most here with the field of battle, but my battlefield of intrigue and social strategy is no less real. And while it is true that my control over Russia is not yet complete, my country holds a greater population than Myanmar, Iraq and the Ivory Coast combined. I sit at this table without shame."

"Well-said, madame," said Cognito. "As for my own Mexico, it sits at the crossroads between the mighty cartels of South America, and the incomparable wealth of its Northern sister. In a field with an extremely high turnover rate, I have made myself a stable constant. The Omega Cartel's Deadmask might fall tomorrow. The Goldblade Cartel's Scorpio might fall next week. But Cognito never falls. My empire is one of cloak and dagger, and its expansion never ceases. Do you know why the Mexican government, mediocre as it is, remains in place, even as its homologues to the South fall before lesser villains one-by-one?" He steepled his armored finger. "It is because I will not allow the government to fall before I have chosen to officially replace it."

"Brave words," Bariq hissed. "But you didn't call us all last week. You contacted us after the Protectorate's new Eidolon decided to make it rain over Mexico. Between that and two dead Endbringers, it's no longer possible for you to stop Mexico from joining the Protectorate. You can feel them breathing down your neck."

At that, Cognito laughed. He did not need to fake it at all - the feeling was genuine. "Every day, I see so many lesser villains in my country fretting and fussing about the big bad Protectorate coming in to spoil their fun. As if it was impossible to run villainous operations in Protectorate territory. As if we weren't already doing such a large portion of our work up North." He then bellowed: "I WELCOME THE PROTECTORATE! If anything, it is my hope that they will put up more effort against us than they ever did against our Northern homologues! What does the Protectorate coming mean? It means new challenges! It means a stronger opposition! I means new opportunities to hone my skill and that of my minions against our enemies! It means conflict! It is conflict that gives mankind all of its glory! Conflict, and the challenges it brings, that allows us to surpass ourselves, becoming ever greater as we struggle to match our foes! It is conflict that makes us great! Were I granted one wish, I would wish to never run out of worthy opponents!"

"Well said!" Storm Rider exclaimed with uproarious laughter. "It is battle, war and conquest that forges men into heroes, and it is the duty of the leader to lead men into those battles! The leader must live like a bright shooting star, inspiring the people to rise, to seize their destiny, and to battle for glory!"

"Is that your vision?" Swarm asked in a tone that did not betray her emotions. "War today, war tomorrow, war forever?"

Cognito chuckled. "My vision for my country is one where we never run out of rivals and nemeses. One where anyone might rise to greatness. I have no use for a mediocre status quo.

"But as I have said: We are united by what we have in common. We are, each and every one of us, exceptional individuals who, through power and skill, have become kings and queens by our own hand. No less importantly, we are, each and every one of us, megalomaniacs."

That got a few reactions, but he decided to press on quickly: "We are proud. And why should we not be? We have extraordinary abilities. We have seized destiny and made it our own. We are shaping the fate of entire nations. Should we pretend to ourselves that we are normal, subject to the same rules and expectations as the common man? A psychiatrist might call us arrogant, insane even. To this hypothetical psychiatrist I would reply that, if sanity means surrender to a life devoid of vision and ambition, then I dare to be insane!

"My pride drives me forward! My arrogance makes me unyielding! My megalomania gives me strength! Every person at this table will accept no limit upon their ambition that they have not chosen for themselves! It is our pride, our glorious megalomania, which will keep us from ever surrendering in the face of terrifying odds, simply because we will never accept weakness in ourselves!

"Which, of course, is why this meeting was worth calling in the first place." With a gesture, a holographic display showed the recently deposed Namibian dictator. "Two days ago, Moord Nag was arrested by the Avatar. Moord Nag was worthy of sitting at this table. She had power, she had talent, and she used both to conquer her country, make herself the unquestionable supreme authority. It was not the largest of countries, but her accomplishment was nonetheless impressive considering how much opposition stood in her way.

"Please do not misconstrue me. I do not mean to say that all, or most, or any of us would have liked Moord Nag. That would not matter. What matters is that when the Avatar arrested her, as well as the Purifier and Wyld Hunter, he was sending a message. He was calling us out. Telling us, telling everyone, that the world was his to police. That our actions were his to scrutinize. That we only ruled at his suffering. That, should we ever step outside the line of his choosing, then he would come down upon us like the fist of an angry god."

He slowly turned his helmeted head, surveying the room. "Now, ladies and gentlemen… How do we punish God for his hubris?"

Storm Rider crossed his arms and closed his eyes, thinking. "Hm. I hold the Avatar no ill will, but it is inevitable that I must fight him some day. I would gladly join an alliance like this against him!"

Swarm rubbed her chin. "There is the matter of the Endbringers to consider. No-one else has slain one before. Behemoth remains at large, and unless the Protectorate is lying or mistaken, several more will arrive some day. We need to account for that. One possibility is that we defeat him comprehensively, make him see that there are consequences for venturing outside of the Protectorate, but allow him to continue operating there once his lesson has been learned. Another possibility is that, before or after disposing of him, we find a way of our own to defeat the Endbringers. Of course, if we were to somehow capture him and weaponize him, well…"

"We must not neglect the political factor here," said Koroleva. "He has, indeed, slain two Endbringers. If we simply assassinate him, the entire world will join forces to have our heads. Our actions need to be made politically palatable - if we settle on killing him, then this can be accomplished by manipulating him to attack first, turning his elimination into an act of self-defense. Even aside from that, some pressure from the world of international diplomacy might be apropos."

"You wish to cast a god down from the heavens." Still smirking, Throne made the wine swish in his glass. "I will grant you this, King of Crime: Your ambition is amusing. I believe this venture will entertain me."

"All well and good," said Bariq, "but pride is competitive. Proud people, generally, hate other proud people. How will we keep from killing each other?"

"It is precisely our pride that will maintain our alliance," Cognito replied. "Once we have given our words and committed to a course of action… why, it then becomes beneath us to stray from that path. Of course, basic politeness and common courtesy will no doubt help too," he said with a chuckle.

Of course, Bariq's concern was not unfounded. Cognito knew, beyond any doubt, that he had no equals. The other people in the room held equally lofty opinions of themselves. Having a common goal, and no competing interests (for now) would help… but there were risks. When Leviathan had attacked Istanbul in 2004, Throne had shown up - the only Endbringer battle he had ever participated in, ironically.

He had performed well in the battle, arguably better than Alexandria or Legend. He had also, according to Cognito's research, broken the Endbringer truce, casually murdering a Turkish hero mid-battle for disrespecting him. The Protectorate had managed to keep the whole thing secret, fearing that letting it become known would hurt attendance at future battles; they had never invited Throne again.

It might prove a bit of a challenge, keeping Throne aimed at the enemy rather than his allies. But Cognito had never been the sort of man to back down from a challenge. Not the challenge of becoming the greatest supervillain of all times. Not the challenge of shattering the status quo and the heroes who foolishly defended it. Not the challenge of imposing his utopian visions on the entire world. And certainly not the challenge presented by the Avatar.

RECLAIMING TOMORROW

"Thank you, Avatar, for this report. We now have a number of questions. For starters, by your own reckoning, you were able to defeat the Simurgh thanks to a precognition-invisible ability to manipulate the flow of events and cause unpredictable outcomes. During PRT power testing, you made no reference to any such power. We would like to know why."

"Of course." The committee before you includes the upper echelons of the PRT, along with multiple Thinkers, and probably several more you can't see; most are available via telepresence. "Please understand that I remain a relative newcomer to your world. Back on Earth-Gimel, battling supervillains has often put me at odds with far-reaching conspiracies - my earlier reports have made ample mentions of Shadow, Checkerboard and others." Heck, you've been more-or-less running the Arcane Alliance yourself, and while it may be benevolent, it's still technically a conspiracy. "As such, when entering a whole new Earth of which I knew virtually nothing, while I have selected openness and honesty in almost every regard, I felt it was prudent to keep one ace up my sleeve in the eventuality of unpleasant surprises."

"I see. And how often have you used this ability since arriving to Earth-Bet?"

"Excluding my battle with the Simurgh, twice, both of them during Leviathan's attack on Brockton Bay. The first one happened while I was draining an Endbringer shelter of flood water; I could see a tidal wave about to kill the Wards Shadow Stalker, Gallant, and Clockblocker, and being unable to get there in time, I caused a well-timed collapse of a damaged structure to divert the wave. The second one happened when I dealt Leviathan the killing blow, using luck-manipulation to hit his control core without knowing where in his body it was located."

There are a number of questions after that, which are only a subset of the questions you'll be going through after the new round of power-testing that you'll have to go through. Still, for all that these people are a bit miffed about your secret, somewhat concerned that all of this might be one giant Simurgh plot, and terrified at the concept of at least four more Endbringers in waiting... there is a strong undercurrent of relieved elation at the Simurgh's death, much as they try to hide it.

"You say that, once the Simurgh was dead, you were able to travel between dimensions. Previously, you claimed that such a feat was entirely impossible for you."

"I am myself confused about this. As far as I can tell, Earth-Bet, the Earth where I fought the Simurgh, Earth-Aleph, and a frankly gigantic number of other worlds seem connected to each other in manner much closer to what my world defines as separate planes, rather than separate dimensions. By my understanding of how such things work, that should not be possible. And yet, here we are. I can, as such, travel between a large number of parallel Earths, though my own Earth-Gimel remains elusive."

"If you were to find Earth-Gimel, what would you do?"

"Return to it post-haste, and see if there were any urgent matters requiring my attention. With that done, I would attempt to perform some coordination between the Global Champions and the PRT, as I believe my team could resolve some of the major problems of Earth-Bet rather efficiently. I would do all these things with all the discretion I could manage, as I would not wish Earth-Bet to attract the attention of some of my world's villains.

"With that said, I would like to point out that there may be an opportunity before us. I am almost certain of my ability to travel between Earth-Bet and Earth-Aleph. We know the Travelers were abducted from Aleph by the Simurgh. If we return them to their homeworld, then you may use that to improve diplomatic relations."

"Duly noted." Of course, there's the matter of Cody, the seventh Traveler. You may need to ask Accord some pointed questions.

You make certain, as the debrief goes on, that the likely existence of more Endbringers isn't brushed away - you are all too familiar with the human impulse to ignore unpleasant information and dismiss all but the strongest evidence for it. "I believe the public needs to be made aware of the likely existence of more Endbringers within the hour, with the same press release that confirms the Simurgh's termination. If you couple the two revelations, then you are telling people that there is a difficult battle ahead, but that it can be won. If new Endbringers show up as a surprise, then they may cause widespread chaos and despair. To mitigate said despair would be more beneficial than letting everyone think we're almost done now."

You haven't convinced all of them (after all, you haven't found proof, just indications), but director Costa-Brown at least seems to agree. Still, the one thing you really focus on is less theoretical:

"We are to understand you have obtained information on several future events while sifting through the Simurgh's precognitive perception. While any detail you can provide us will be gratefully analyzed, doesn't your very survival disrupt all of it?"

"It certainly throws a big monkey wrench in all of those visions, but that should not lead us to underestimate them. My impression is that a lot of the Simurgh's long-term planning is less the Rube-Goldberg devices that we tend to associate with her, and more a matter of seeing what events are likely to happen, due to all the necessary triggers being in place. I do believe that using these early warnings may save Earth-Bet quite a lot of grief. I believe, ladies and gentlemen, that this is a unique opportunity to reclaim Earth-Bet's future." And so, you go with them over every bit of data you gleaned from the Simurgh's precognition.

The Simurgh's time-bomb for Canberra is, according to the PRT, relatively easy to handle. They're confident that the family of the cape responsible can be extracted from the Simurgh exclusion zone, and said cape can be located and reunited with them quietly. The destruction of a major Australian water reservoir can be avoided.

The Gesellschaft's plot to paralyze the German government is a bit more complex to handle. The relevant authorities in Germany (and what's left of the European Union) will obviously be notified, and tighter security may be provided to candidates when the elections come, but it would be better to strike at the Gesellschaft before that. Easier said than done, of course.

Storm Rider's war is even more of a headache. At least one PRT director thinks the matter should be left alone, as it does not directly concern the Protectorate or its allies, and seems poised to weaken the CUI. Some think you should arrest Storm Rider just like Moord Nag, but the Burmese warlord does not share her track record of massacring helpless civilians. Some support sharing what you've learned with the CUI, letting the Yangban handle Storm Rider before he accumulates enough power to become a problem for them. You mention yourself the possibility of going to talk to him and explaining the situation, hoping to appeal to reason with him. No consensus is reached.

There's a cholera outbreak due to kill tens of thousands in India and Bangladesh in less than a year. This matter is best handled by contacting the World Health Organization, which will work with local authorities to organize a preemptive vaccination campaign.

A particularly vicious cape gang, the Red Rockets, is going to emerge in Phoenix next year; their leader, a Blaster/Shaker called Shockwave, kills the leaders of three pre-existing gangs to unite them under her control, then proceeds to escalate conflict with the local Protectorate, causing massive damage to the city. The crisis as you saw it ended when Shockwave was assassinated by her own underlings, who did it to prevent the Triumvirate itself being brought over to deal with the situation, but Phoenix suffered greatly in the process. The PRT promise to focus their efforts on locating and neutralizing Shockwave before she becomes an issue.

In 18 months, the global economy is going to take a hit when it is publicized that a Chilean cape with the power to transmute elements had been secretly selling tons of gold on the black market (admittedly a minuscule fraction of all gold worldwide, but enough to make many panic). Gold prices quickly dropped before the whole thing was revealed to be a hoax, part of a scheme to short-sell shares in gold mining businesses… but by then, a lot of financial damage was done. Having a heads-up will certainly make it easier to deal with the situation.

And then, lastly, there is the matter of doomsday. Unfortunately, you know frustratingly little about it. Is it caused by an Endbringer, pulling all the stops? Scion going insane? A parahuman? Nuclear war? Something entirely different? The PRT will look into it, but, there's just not much to go on. Hopefully, a large team of Thinkers working together can figure something out.

All of those visions you saw, of course, only paint a highly incomplete picture of the future - you only had so much time inside the Simurgh's head. But, hopefully, what you saw will accomplish some good.

With debriefing finally done, you take the time to touch base with some of Brockton Bay's people. The Protectorate, the Wards, New Wave… they show some concern for you, but are immensely relieved that the Simurgh is gone for good.

The Travelers, understandably, show much greater relief. Most of them cry. You avoid the subject of interdimensional travel, since you don't want to give them false hopes yet.

As for Weaver… Well, her relief is no less palpable, but it seems she never stops thinking.

"I'm still trying to process that you beat the Simurgh. How? Do you have some kind of precog-invisibility?"

"There's some classified information about it, though I think the general lines will be going into the PRT's incoming press release. But, yes, I had a way of disrupting her precognition."

"Hm. Without that, she's still a powerful telekinetic, but… I guess she couldn't match Leviathan's speed. And she's a lot smaller. Was she easier to beat?"

"Once I was actually able to fight on my terms, she went down a lot easier than him. Before that, however, she was much harder, simply because she'd taken the time to prepare the battlefield to give herself a wealth of advantages. The challenge was figuring out her plans and removing her advantages one-by-one quickly enough that she couldn't kill me; once I'd done that, she was easier to beat."

Weaver pauses. "In past battles, Endbringers never actually prepared for anything, beyond choosing the right moment to strike. She was escalating because you killed Leviathan. What does that mean for Behemoth? He's a dynakinetic; he can absorb energy from attacks and the environment to weaponize them. Is he absorbing energy right now from the Earth's magma so that he can use it in the next fight? Actually, would Behemoth even be aware of the others' deaths?"

You blink. "...You raise a valid concern. I'll report it to the director Piggot ASAP. Good thinking."

You'll have to mention that Weaver was the one who thought of it. You think she has potential as a hero - less because of her powers than because of her smarts.

The PRT has its press release. It confirms it - Simurgh attack on Brockton Bay, focused exclusively on killing you, wasn't able to mess with the city long enough to require the usual quarantine, you had some power that allowed you to disrupt her precognitive plans, you killed her, you are immune to her mental manipulations, but there is circumstantial evidence investigated by the PRT suggesting that further Endbringers are out there.

Legend gives an excellent speech, promising that mankind will fight against the Endbringers and triumph, no matter their numbers. He has significant skill at this, and overall, you're not surprised that people are partying to celebrate the death of the 3rd Endbringer.

But then, a lot has happened in the past couple of days, from their perspective. One of Gray Boy's victims was freed for the first time. Two droughts were ended through your power. Moord Nag, the Purifier, Wyld Hunter, and Heartbreaker are all behind bars. And now, the Simurgh, dead. It's probably more than a little overwhelming.

Not so overwhelming that you don't see a few "2 down, 1 to go" and "Fuck you next, Behemoth" banners in the streets as you patrol.

And you are patrolling. Piggot doesn't want a lull in activity, and neither do you, which is why you are currently flying through Empire territory. You fly after sundown, at a height of 300 feet, wearing dark clothing over your usual uniform - no need to let E88 know what you're doing. What you're doing is use a combination of enhanced senses and mental super-speed to search every single building in the area.

You return to the Protectorate base before sundown. It is somewhat maddening that, despite having seen where every single one of the Neo-Nazi supervillains was, you cannot just go and arrest them… but, that's not what you spent the night searching for. No, far more interesting are the other things you've found. Three different meth labs. Seven different locations used to stash several million dollars' worth of various narcotics. Twelve major weapons and ammo caches, and five more minor ones. Several locations where the Empire is apparently hiding its cash reserve in. Two brothels that clearly rely on human trafficking and an unwilling workforce.

A very large part of you wants to raid those latter places right now, but you understand the tactical need to hit everything at once, lest E88 just move everything. The actual assault is planned for the late afternoon - director Piggot has been coordinating with Glenn Chambers in planning this operation since the arrest of the Merchants.

That leaves you several hours. The first two are spent in a more regular-looking patrol, where you cover the Merchants' territory with Assault, arresting a couple meth dealers, and locating a pretty major drug stash - even with their capes gone, some of the gang's remaining unpowered members are trying to run their filthy business. As Assault points out, they're on their last legs - with the capes gone, the police is far bolder in patrolling the area.

Once that is done, though, you know where you're going. With the PRT's blessing, you are headed to New York City - more specifically, to the largest cluster of Gray Boy victims.

It's not a pretty sight, dating back to the Nine's visit to the Big Apple many years ago. Vanguard, a member of the Wards at the time, had been trying to rescue eleven hostages from them, hoping the force-fields he generated could protect everyone from the Nine's powers. Tragically, they proved no match for Gray Boy; the young hero and eleven civilians, three of them children, have been trapped in this repeating torture ever since.

"Vanguard. Laura. Jeffrey. Sandra," you call everyone by name, one-by-one, flanked by the best healer of the NYC Protectorate and a dozen paramedics. "My name is the Avatar, and I'm with the Protectorate. You may have seen me on the news," you glance at the TV screens - one for each of them, at close range and low volume, controlled by their blinking in some cases. "Two days ago, I was able to rescue someone from a Gray Boy loop. I am going to try to save you too."

Expressions shift. You prepare yourself - this isn't easy, after all, and you want to time so that there are as few injuries as possible in the moment you break the loop. It would be unacceptable for someone to break out of this hellish torture after so many years of hopelessness only to immediately succumb to their injuries.

Some focus, a surge of cosmic power… and for just enough time, you cut the area off all other planes, quickly moving all twelve victims out of the way. The healer and accompanying paramedics instantly get on the job.

There's catatonia here, strangled sobs there… but when Vanguard, despite everything he has gone through, manages to actually stand up, give you a salute, and mouth "thank you", you find yourself duly impressed, returning the salute. "You're welcome, Vanguard," you say with a smile.

Just like last time you broke a time-loop, you are somewhat exhausted by the effort. As such, you take an hour to recuperate, during which you catch up on the news.

It's been less than 24 hours since the Simurgh's death, so it goes without saying that it still dominates the news cycles. Despite the grim news of probable additional Endbringers, most of the world is celebrating. There are many questions being asked about the fate of Simurgh containment zones, and some questions about the future of the space program. There is also apparently a buying frenzy on the stock exchange - with the third Endbringer gone, investing in the future is looking more and more like a prudent decision, with financiers expecting various businesses to grow. Which isn't to say that everyone benefits from recent events; some companies are expected to suffer from increased competition when maritime commerce returns to pre-Leviathan levels.

There are still talks about the events of the previous day. A poll in Mexico shows that popular support for joining the Protectorate has gone up by over a dozen points. The remaining warlords of Namibia are apparently negotiating how to run the new government, with violence being avoided so far. Various Afghan factions each want to claim Kabul; in the city itself, people who openly supported the Purifier's regime are lynched in the streets. The UN is discussing the possibility of updating the international courts for people like Moord Nag and Wyld Hunter, but so far Russia is opposing the plan.

There are also news about the Federal Emergency Relief Committee, which surprised many by voting to allocate 280 million dollars of federal money to Brockton Bay. Officially this is money to repair the damage caused by Endbringer attacks, but the damage Leviathan caused was minimal. More likely, the bulk of this money will be going to revitalizing the docks, fixing infrastructure, and other such expenses. You remember that the PRT is hoping to turn the city into a symbol of heroic victory; you wouldn't be surprised if it lobbied for the generous funds.

Well. You're more-or-less rested. Time to break the next loop.

By the time you return to Brockton Bay, you've broken half the Gray Boy loops in New York, totalling 32 victims. Taking a one-hour break between each group is a regrettable necessity, but your power isn't infinite.

And then, it is time.

You perform a quick precautionary scan of the target areas located last night, and then, the raids begin.

Battery and Velocity form one team. Armsmaster and Assault form the second. Miss Militia, Dauntless and Tsunami form the third. Lady Photon and Manpower form the fourth. Flashbang and Brandish form the fifth. The Wards, Weaver, Glory Girl, Shielder and Laserdream, assisting squads of PRT troopers, forming the sixth, seventh and eighth teams. You, operating solo, turn on your super-speed, allowing you to accomplish about as much as all the other teams combined.

You opposed having minors participate in this operation, but director Piggot overruled you. Still, she at least listened when you suggested bringing New Wave on board… and then she decided that if you were bringing in New Wave, then you might just as well do the same with Weaver, and let her prove that she could work with the heroes before she was foisted upon the Boston PRT. You have mixed feelings about that.

Dinah Alcott isn't a Ward yet, but her assistance was nonetheless invaluable, providing useful tactical insight with her odds of success and disaster. In particular, seeing as Kaiser has to have his own informants among the police, she was able to assess the risk of him learning of the operation depending on who was brought on board. Apparently, asking for the help of the 1st precinct would have doomed the operation, for instance, while the second precinct provided no additional risks. The State police, DEA, and FBI are also assisting.

It all ends pretty quickly. You are not targeting the Empire's supervillains, after all - you are targeting its illicit businesses. Its drugs, its human trafficking, its weapon reserves. The non-powered thugs you arrest in there are a bonus.

As you raid the second brothel, some of the men running it manage to barricade themselves inside a room, threatening to shoot the prostitutes unless you leave. You are entirely confident in your ability to handle them, but, at the same time, your communicator device reveals that another team has run into an Empire cape. More specifically, the E88's Cricket is apparently picking a fight with Weaver, Browbeat, Shielder and Shadow Stalker.

You curse internally, focusing on your current targets. Enhanced speed allows you to blow up the door and, before any possible reaction, very precisely form a force-field to protect the hostages, meaning that even if a shot gets out, no-one would be at risk. Rather than use blasts in a room full of hostages, you actually punch the Neonazis - you are, after all, a superb fighter with Olympic strength, as humans measure these things. Some super-speed punching later, they are all down for the count. You make sure that the girls are safe, before you head out toward the location of the junior heroes.

The sight that greets you there is… well, it's Cricket, convulsing on the floor in pain from hundreds of insect bites, covered in spider-silk, being held down by Browbeat while Shadow Stalker zip-ties her hands behind her back. Shielder is complimenting Weaver on the efficient takedown of the E88 cape in a way typical of teenage flirting. Seeing as they're all unharmed, you just smile, give them some encouraging words, and fly back to work.

With the exception of Cricket, the E88 capes knew better than to fight back. It has, overall, been a highly successful operation: Forty-four Empire members arrested counting Cricket (all of whom are virtually guaranteed to serve time, considering where they were caught), most of the Empire's weaponry seized (including dozens of assault rifles, a flamethrower, five grenade launchers and three Stinger missiles), millions and millions of dollars in cash and illicit narcotics confiscated, and eighteen sex slaves freed.

As far as logistics go, this is a crippling blow to the white supremacist gang: Most of their money sources are gone, and you imagine at least some of the men you've arrested today will be willing to strike a deal with the DA by talking about other things - things like the Empire's protection racket, or any money-laundering businesses it might still own after its capes were unmasked.

Of course, there's another component to the plan to destroy the Empire. That component comes into play hours later, in the evening (around the time you finish the new round of power-testing). It's not something you often do, but, you check "Familiar Farces". It's a popular TV show - half news, half comedy, using latex dolls of public figures to discuss and satirize recent events. The highlight of tonight's show is the Protectorate's dismantling of the Empire's operations (appropriate credit is given to New Wave). Your own latex figure (which is constantly bathed in a ray of light, and has a deliberately over-the-top angelic chorus in the background while it talks) plays a prominent role. More importantly, the Empire, whose Nazi ties are played up, is utterly ridiculed in every possible way.

They are shown as cowards running away from you, gay-bashers whose male members own Hitler-porn, and many other things. One running gag involves you showing up whenever the Empire is working on something, most members screaming in terror and retreating like terrified Muppets, and Hookwolf putting his fists up and shouting "Let me at 'em! Let me at 'em!" in a high-pitched voice until Kaiser and Krieg drag him away.

You understand that Glenn Chambers had words with the showrunners to arrange this. The purpose is obvious - to utterly ridicule both Empire 88 and its toxic ideology, making it nigh-impossible for them to garner followers, causing the movement to disintegrate. It is not so different from how you destroyed the Ku Klux Klan back in the days. In addition to drying up their recruitment efforts and further lowering their morale, this will encourage the victims of their protection racket to speak up en masse… and that's pretty much the last source of income they have left.

Now, the Empire is not exactly rational. It is not impossible that they will seek to retaliate in some way. As such, you will be required to spend several hours a day patrolling the city over the next few days. But… that still leaves a lot of time. Time that you need to manage.

There is, of course, the matter of Gray Boy's victims. According to the PRT's files, there are 214 locations left, totalling 510 victims.

[ ] They have to be liberated… but, then again, they've been there for years and years. Does one week more or less make that big a difference? You dedicate two hours each day to the matter, focusing the rest of your time on more urgent business.

[ ] Just because they have suffered a lot, it doesn't make their current suffering less important. You dedicate six hours each day to freeing them.

[ ] You've almost died recently. You might die any day here. Without you, there is a very real risk that any of these men, women and children might keep getting tortured forever. You make them a priority, dedicating ten hours each day to freeing them.

There is the matter of Scion. A hero like him could accomplish far more good than he currently does, if only he coordinated with others. And, like Weaver said, communicating with him might be your best bet against S-class threats… something which you might desperately need if the Endbringers keep escalating. If you had had him by your side yesterday, you could have beaten the Simurgh easily.

[ ] No sense in delaying it. You go out and try to contact Scion, establishing a line of dialog.

[ ] As useful an ally as Scion could be, there are more urgent matters right now. You mention the possibility to the PRT in your report, but focus your attention elsewhere.

And then, of course, there's a lot of talking happening right now. You are at the center of attention. The media all want a word with you. How do you use that?

[ ] This is your best shot at eliminating Empire 88 as a factor. You make use of the spotlight to both castigate and ridicule their bigotry. In one fell swoop, you can both relegate the Empire to the dustbin of History, and strike a great blow to the European Gesellschaft.

[ ] You have taken down parahuman warlords, and then killed the Simurgh. This is an ideal time to call for increased international cooperation and the restoration of law and order across the world.

[ ] You split the difference, using your influence both to speak up against Neonazism and to support international cooperation.

[ ] The PRT has its own PR experts. You let them handle it.

(INTERLUDE) OMAKE: QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

Lord Samiel - Lung: Two Endbringers dead. How does that bullshit about them being unbeatable taste now?

Lung: *snarls, trashes, hulks out, and goes on murderous berserker rampage through the Birdcage before finally being put down*

Marquis: "Ahem. I believe that what my colleague meant to say prior to his unfortunate meeting with Glaistig Uaine was that, considering that the best and brightest of Earth-Bet's capes have done all they could against the Endbringers for nearly two decades without success, it seems a fair assessment that they are simply not beatable with the tools at our disposal. The Avatar seems equipped with different tools, for which we ought to be thankful, but the comparison is hardly fair."

Lord Samiel - Garotte: Thoughts on the possibility of Avatar healing you and the other Case-53s?

Garotte: "Um… What?"

*researches events surrounding Avatar, learns more details surrounding Noelle*

"Huh. Um, I'm not sure that would work. Usually, when powers that affect the body are used to transform Case-53s, they transform right back - whatever it is about our powers that changes us, it doesn't go away.

"...but I'll ask the staff about it. Maybe it's different this time…"

Akasha - Tattletale: Hypothetically speaking, if you were to discover that you may have contributed to the death of the Avatar and the extinction of the entire human race by selling potentially critical information about him to a member of a shadowy conspiracy that may, or may not, have humanity's best interests in mind, and agreed to have your memories of the event erased after the deal was finished, all for no other reason than to get more money... how would you feel?
Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Tattletale: *blinks*

*thinks*

*twitches*

"Excuse me for a moment." *exits room*

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" *frantically calls Hebert residence*

Sir Kaid - Doctor Mother: If you discovered a way to return Avatar to his home world, would you tell him about it immediately, wait for a while, or keep it secret indefinitely?

Doctor Mother: "As things stand, the Avatar is a tremendous asset. He might actually be able to fight Scion when the time comes, and in the meanwhile, he can allow human society to survive longer, for cape numbers to keep growing, by destroying the Endbringers.

"What I would do, then, is study his homeworld for a while. If it looked like cooperation between us could do more good than harm, then I would inform him of it. If it looked too dangerous - for instance, if it seemed likely that he wouldn't return, if his world's villains were an even greater threat than the Endbringers, or if it turned out he had been misleading us on certain key points - then it would be for the best if I kept it a secret."

Sir Kaid - The Emperor of the CUI: Do you have any plans for what to do if Avatar decides that parahuman slavery needs to be abolished, starting with China?

His Imperial Majesty: "I take offense to the term 'parahuman slavery'. The Yangban are civil servants. If the Avatar were to share your unpatriotic views, however, I would contact the American government, and make it very clear to them that unwise actions undertaken by a member of the Protectorate on Chinese national territory could be considered an act of war.

"As these things go, the Americans and Canadians would quickly pull the plug on the Avatar. Were he to go through with such a foolish course of actions regardless, well. The Yangban was created to fight threats that a single individual could never stand up to. If they can fight an Endbringer, they can fight the Avatar."

Sir Kaid - Accord: Have you drawn up any plans for killing Avatar if needed? How large and complicated are they?

Accord: "I have not. The Avatar's elimination of Endbringers, despite being unexpected, does more to reduce the chaos and unpredictability of the world than the actions of any other individual. The risk that he might go after my own operations has occurred to me, but if that were the case, then I lack the resources to oppose him. I have drawn up plans in case he tries to dismantle my operations, but they mostly consist of having my operatives go to ground and rescue me from prison once the figurative storm has passed."

Sir Kaid - Shadow Stalker: What are your thoughts on Avatar?

Shadow Stalker: "I don't know! Damn guy makes no sense to me!

"One moment he's kicking Endbringer ass and being the most powerful cape in the universe. The next moment, he's a good little soldier jumping through Piggy's hoops. If I had that kind of power, sure, I'd kick the ass of every villain in the State… but nobody would tell me what to do. He's just… chill about it.

"I think the worst part of it is, he actually has a point. About teamwork and that sort of shit. Usually I tune that sort of crap out, but… I dunno, for once it didn't sound like someone was just going on about it to rub it in my face. He actually sounded like he meant it.

"So… I don't know. I'm glad he's on our side, and I cheer with everyone else when he stops one of the Big Bads, but I dunno what to make of the guy."

E1Christ0 - Techno Paladin: Hypothetically speaking, if did discover the truth regarding Scion and his connection to Parahuman powers, what specific steps would you undertake to address the issue?

Techno-Paladin: "Well, it seems to me that Scion's greatest weakness is his reliance on inter-planar mechanics, which we already know can be blocked. I would work on a device that can prevent such travel, and use it to quarantine the Earth Scion's real body has landed on - effectively cutting off most parahuman powers, along with their effects on the minds of the hosts. Seeing how shards push hosts toward conflict, their presence is unsurprisingly doing more harm than good to Earth Bet. (Of course, I'd have to locate the shards that create the Endbringers first and destroy them.) It would also cut Scion off from all the shards that he has placed on other planes.

"The one flaw in that plan is that it requires a planar blocker powerful enough that Scion can't break through it. To be on the safe side, I'd need an astronomically mighty power source for it. Hm… perhaps with String Theory's later work…"

Sir Kaid - Weaver: Now that you're a hero, what do you think about your former team?

Weaver: "That's… a tough question, to be honest.

"On one hand, there's a part of me that loves those guys, even Bitch. I realize I've only known them for a month, but… they were, mostly, friends to me. I guess it's the isolation talking, because…" *sighs* "...because I guess having literally zero friends for so long messed with my head and made me desperate for human contact. Maybe that's not entirely healthy. But I had a good time with them. I fought side-by-side with them. I can't pretend that's not there.

"On the other hand… I'm so angry at them. Coil abducted a twelve-year-old girl, addicted her to drugs, turned her into his slave, all thanks to us… and they decide they're OK with it? What the fuck? I just… I felt betrayed. At the same time, a part of me was thinking that I was an idiot, and why was I surprised that villains had loose morals? And another part of me… Dammit, even now I don't know what to think.

"And then that got me thinking - what if I'd just been seeing them through rose-tinted glasses? I mean, I get Brian wanting to take care of his little sister. But if he's willing to sacrifice Dinah to help his family, is that so different from Mr. Barnes sacrificing me to protect his? Well, yeah, it's different, because Aisha isn't a bully and Emma is a terrible person, but, it's still sacrificing people to help people you like more. And I didn't mind the way Lisa played mind games with Glory Girl and Panacea at the bank, but now it's starting to remind me of how Emma keeps finding the most hurtful thing she can say to me. Which, again, is an unfair comparison, because Emma does it just to be mean, and Lisa did it to avoid going to jail… but still, I'm wondering if the Undersiders are good people in a bad situation, or just terrible people, with me looking the other way because we were friends.

"Argh. This is all confusing and frustrating. I don't know what to think about them. I miss them, I love them, I'm disappointed in them, and they make me so mad. It's all a mess."

Derkan - Professor Cryo: Do you have the qualifications to be called professor?

Professor Cryo: "As a matter of fact, yes! Good ol' Carnegie Mellon University actually gave me tenure in the physics department. Of course, that was back before I actually involved myself in superpowered affairs, back when the Nobel committee was debating whether to award me their prize for my work on advanced thermodynamics.

"I retain that title. After I took over Pittsburgh, the university administration did not elect to strip it from me, even when I stopped teaching classes. One might interpret it as their desire not to offend an archvillain who could have them executed at a moment's notice. One would, of course, be right, though I cannot say I particularly care for such matters. I will, however, be forever grateful to the university for its unwilling donation of my current headquarters."

Red Bovine - Professor Cryo: The Avatar solos Endbringers. Why does he consider you a big problem?

Professor Cryo: "A pertinent question! But, really, how could he not consider me a problem? Consider our history:

"In the late eighties, I show up out of nowhere, with blue skin, cryokinetic powers, and a large squad of mercenary supervillains on my payroll that includes Tagton, who has his own history with the Avatar. We kill virtually all of Pittsburgh's heroes before the rest of the country even reacts. I use my machinery to plunge the city and its surrounding in an arctic microclimate, just to put my stamp of ownership on it. The heroes show up to stop me, with the Avatar leading the charge… and then I reveal a deadman's switch that can wipe the entire city from the map, defeat the Global Champions while they're reeling from the revelation, and drop them outside my domain as a show of force.

"Years pass. My little kingdom, the Cryosphere, has become an international haven for supervillains. It is one of the greatest defeats of the heroic community, a black mark for it as a whole. Oh, but they don't wait by idly. They plan. They prepare. And finally, the Avatar returns to the Cryosphere, leading the charge as thousands upon thousands of superheroes from all over the world come seeking justice, my deadman's switch temporarily disabled…

"...and once again, they fail. They had cards up their sleeves, but, ooh, so did I! Once again, the heroes are defeated, and their casualties reach the triple digits. The Second Battle of the Cryosphere is a terrible defeat for the heroes, even more so than the first one.

"And since then? I have never been idle. Though I may not try to (openly) take over the world like Nollius, I am no less dangerous - far from it. My plots are legion, and they have a high rate of success, despite the best efforts of heroes and rival villains alike.

"Besides, I am diabolically clever, my thermodynamic field can block even the Avatar's devastating blasts, I can plunge near absolute zero multiple city blocks in the blink of an eye, and my array of gadgets benefits both from my genius and from what I occasionally tax from the villains of the world when they visit the Cryosphere. In a one-on-one fight between me and god of heroism, there is no guaranteed outcome."

E1Christ0 - Professor Cryo: Hypothetically speaking, if you were suddenly dumped into Brockton Bay on, say, April 8th, all by yourself and with only What you usually have on your person at the time, what would be your short term goals and long term goals that you would pursue?

Professor Cryo

: "In the short term, obviously, I would focus on gathering information. In the long term… I would figure out which small country was most ripe for conquest and least likely to be invaded immediately by its neighbors. After that, it would be a matter of building a superpowered army, figuring out the most potent synergies in powersets, reverse-engineering tinkertech…

"I am entirely confident that I could build something that could kill an Endbringer. Once that is accomplished, most of the world would be entirely willing to look the other way while I conquered neighboring country after neighboring country.

"After that… well. I'd need a powerful network of Thinkers (possibly drugged and brainwashed into compliance), but it would very much be my intention to have the best information network in the world. The true long-term goal, of course, is global domination - across multiple Earths if possible!"

E1Christ0 - Madman: Considering your powers, have you ever encountered people with similar abilities during your transmultidimensional wanderings - specifically Zelretch, Yakumo Yukari, and Q?

Madman: "Well, I do enjoy those shows and games.

"Now, let's see… Suzanne, back home, is my equal in terms of technological capability. She hasn't invented dimensional travel, but that's because she's focused for now on fixing things in our dimension… In fact, my promise to her not to mess our world up is the reason I invented a way to travel between worlds: So I could make messes somewhere else!

"Checkmate Warren is another rare intellectual quasi-equal. Less good than me at technology, but better at schemes and tactics. But he did invent the Quantum Matrix, so maybe I shouldn't criticize his tech skills too much, despite how that mess ended.

"Other than that… There's Meglestiams. Not as powerful as me, but preeeetty damn good at magic. Kind of busy being a fantasy version of the Doctor.

"And then there's Mother Aurora. That's one fairy queen who needs to chill out - she's trying to be Doctor Mother, Alexandria, and Contessa all rolled into one. Though if you ask me, at this rate she… but that would be spoilers."

Dark as Silver - Madman: Could you take Taylor Hebert?

Madman: "Bwahaha! You're asking me if I can take on a teenager with an Entity shard and an IQ of 145? Meh, I say unto you! Meh!

"Buuuut, let us not speculate. Let us test! I have access to any point in all of the omniversal space-time, so let's see Taylor at one of her strongest points!"

Taylor gazed at Scion. Finally, everyone was working together. With all the capes under her control, she-

"Hello." A guy in a lab coat with messy blond hair suddenly appeared. It took Taylor a moment to realize she UNDERSTOOD what he had said.

"Goodbye." The guy in the labcoat snapped his fingers, and a massive portal opened, revealing a planet covered in… was that Scion's real body? It looked a lot like the garden of flesh from Cauldron's base.

Whatever it was… the Sun behind it was apparently in the process of going supernova. The planet was consumed.

The portal closed. Scion fell to the ground, lifeless.

She tried to use any of the Thinker powers on the blond guy. No results whatsoever.

Then he stepped forward to shake her hand. It felt like shaking hand with a taser. Everything went black.

When she woke up, she was alone with Contessa, who was holding a gun.

Madman: "Meh, I can take her. It's just that it's boring. You see now why I decided to use the Avatar as a proxy? There's just not much of a story otherwise."

Red Bovine - Madman: If you'd decided to deal with the Earth Bet situation directly instead of sending the Avatar as a proxy, how would you have done it?

Madman: "Well… I'd want to at least make it entertaining.

"So… For starters, kidnap Slaughterhouse Nine, put them in this complex high-tech maze full of deathtraps, and hijack the world's television as I show them getting bumped one-by-one while I make funny commentary.

"Maybe another show of force or two, like having an army of giant solid light holograms of Gargamel overrun Ellisburg and make soup out of Nilbog's monsters.

"Once I've established that I can do practically anything… Then I can start making offers. Like… Why yes, Miss Piggot, I will kill an Endbringer of your choice! All you gotta do is give me what I want, and what I want is to see you singing the teapot song, with all the dance moves! Why yes, Doctor Mother, I will depower Scion and save the world! All you gotta do is use Cauldron's resources to make Earth-Bet go full Silver Age!

"After all, what's the point of doing something, if you don't have fun while doing it?"

E1Christ0 - Avatar: What are your thoughts on Earth Bet so far?

The Avatar: "In some ways, it reminds me of the worst parts of the Stone Age - local bullies in control everywhere, mankind helpless before massive disasters.

"And yet, even here, even in a situation practically hand-crafted to breed cynicism and despair… humans still reach for the light. I don't just mean the heroic parahumans, but everyone. Industry and commerce still gamble that there will be a tomorrow. Adults still work to feed their children. People still engage in charity.

"It's easy to be brave and optimistic when things are going well. For all the darkness that permeates it, the one thing about Earth-Bet that I love is that it is a testament to the heroic spirit, simply because even in a world this shrouded in darkness and despair, the light of courage, virtue and hope shines on."

GOLD AND SILVER

The next day is… Well, you'd call it busy, but it's really not so different from how things are back home.

Noelle gets ten minutes of your time, to undo the (barely noticeable) changes to her mind and body that have accrued since your last meeting. Really, you could do this in five minutes, but some extra time to talk helps her peace of mind greatly. In private, director Piggot tells you that the PRT is still debating how to proceed where the Travelers are concerned, with the possibility of returning them to Aleph being discussed.

While you're talking to the director, you tell her of your intention to meet Scion.

"Do you really think that'll work?" she raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm not certain - there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Scion - but it probably will," you say. "It just seems to me that Scion could help so much more effectively if he coordinated with others. Simply having a way to tell him when and where an Endbringer is attacking would make a huge difference."

"I can't argue with that," she says, "but be careful. Nobody really understands Scion, and there's no telling how he'll actually react to someone suddenly being able to contact him like that. Just because we've never seen him angry, doesn't mean he can't get mad."

"I will strive to be as diplomatic as I can."

"Make sure you do." She pauses. "You should also know that, with Weaver's papers having been processed, she will be introduced to the Boston press in less than 48 hours. Since she is officially a Ward, I have decided to include her in their sparring session today. As the one who sponsored her, I want you to assist Miss Militia as she provides today's lesson."

The director's decision surprises you briefly, but it actually makes sense - both times Skitter has gone up against Brockton Bay's superheroes, she has come out the victor. Hoping for some of that tactical skill to seep into the local Wards is understandable.

The day is punctuated by multiple patrols, across the city in general and Empire territory in particular. While the majority of the neonazi gangsters have at least the wisdom to lay low, some of them just can't stomach yesterday's humiliation. And so, you still manage to catch some causing trouble. Of particular note are three skinheads with knives and chains, attempting to assault three black graffiti artists who, in the middle of E88 territory, have spray-painted a massive picture on a wall; the right half of the picture displays Hookwolf in a boxing position with a "Let me at'em!" word balloon, and the left half shows a cartoon puppy giving a Nazi salute with a "Heil Hitler" word balloon. You doubt the Empire is ever going to live that specific joke down.

More time-consuming than your patrols, however, are multiple out-of-town jaunts as you head toward the locations with the largest clusters of Gray Boy's victims. There's the high school classroom in Camden - one teacher, twenty-six students, and one janitor still wielding the remains of the mop he broke on Gray Boy's head. There's the street in Toronto where Gray Boy positioned a car with three passengers to run over the same group of five children over and over again. There's the three members of the Chicago Protectorate and the eight PRT agents flanking them.

All in all, you visit six different locations, freeing 77 people. Only 208 locations and 433 victims to go.

Weaver nervously asks if she should unmask before the sparring session. Miss Militia smiles and tells her that Wards and Protectorate members are encouraged to use their full costume while sparring, since those are the same conditions they'll encounter on patrol.

Your presence here might seem superfluous - you're acting as assistant to the rather competent Miss Militia - but the fact that you're here probably makes Weaver and the other Wards less nervous around each other. ...Though Shadow Stalker is having entirely too much fun with Clockblocker's unsubtle fear of the bug-controlling heroine. She even comments that it's a "shame she's leaving for Boston, we could use another fighter with some actual killer instinct on the team".

This actually prompts an intelligent conversation spurred by Miss Militia on the subject. "Shadow Stalker may not fully appreciate the value of restraint, but she isn't entirely wrong, either. In an actual fight with an opponent who is truly willing to hurt you, you must have the nerve to strike back while you still can. Nothing will kill you as quickly as indecision."

Both you and Weaver confirm that, in the chaotic fast pace of battle, it is vital to just keep fighting. You make sure to explain, however, that a warrior's "killer instinct" is not the same as viciousness, and that frequent sparring sessions are designed to build up the very combat instincts that will keep even gentle souls from freezing up.

With that said, it seems like a productive session all in all. Both you and Miss Militia have some constructive comments… as does Weaver, who has a few clever suggestions for ways the other Wards might use their powers.

"It wasn't bad," Weaver mentions as you escort her out. "I think we might have actually become friends if I had just joined from the start."

"You still might, some day," you say with a warm chuckle, "and there will be plenty of opportunities to make friends in Boston, both in and out of costume. For that matter, do not forget that you can call me on my communicator."

Another late afternoon/early evening patrol across the city, and this time something unusual catches your eye: Apparently, Kaiser, on the roof of a large building, has used his power to spell "AVATAR" with a mess of blades and spears. He stands next to the signal, apparently waiting for your arrival.

Well. No reason to keep him waiting any longer. You land in front of the supervillain.

"Avatar." His tone of voice is steady. "So kind of you to stop by. You have been giving my people a lot of trouble recently."

"Only a small fraction of the trouble they have given the people of this city, Anders," you reply with a neutral expression.

"I fear you may be working under certain misapprehensions concerning what Empire Eighty-Eight is about," he says. "There is no need for us to be enemies, Avatar."

"Of course there isn't," you say. "You can turn yourself in right now, return your ill-gotten gains, and apologize to all those you have hurt."

He laughs at that. "In all seriousness, Avatar… I don't know how things go back on Earth-Gimmel, or for that matter what the PRT has been telling you, but the simple truth of it is, Brockton Bay, practically from the start, has needed the Empire."

Ah. Apparently, Kaiser has reached the "bargaining" phase.

He pauses, looking in the distance. "Have you heard about the 'bad old days'? Back in the days of Allfather, the early days of the Empire, this city was suffering under the yoke of the first wave of supervillains. Galvanate was a lowlife mob enforcer who could temporarily give superpowers to other lowlifes. Marquis ruled through terror, putting on airs of honor and nobility while leaving a trail of death and permanent disappearances behind him. The Teeth were basically a poor man's Slaughterhouse Nine.

"I know you think of us as villains. As thieves, thugs, and God knows what else. But the reality of it is that compared to the competition, the Empire has always been a moderating influence - simply because the other gangs are so much worse. How much have they told you about the ABB's bombing spree, when they planted bombs in the skulls of their own conscripts and indiscriminately murdered hundreds of innocent civilians - when things got so bad that it fell upon us to stop them? Are you aware of the Merchants' viler practices, such as forcibly addicting children to their poison?

"If you are engaged in some quest to free this city from the clutches of crime, then forgive me for bursting your bubble: There will always be gangs and supervillains. Removing all the existing ones will merely create a power vacuum that will attract new comers, new predators. You cannot extinguish crime, you can only choose which criminals get to rule to roost. And of all the gangs to have dominated the Brockton Bay underworld, the simple fact is that the Empire is the only one that's actually invested in the common good.

"I do not claim to be some great philantropist, Avatar, but I am civilized. I accept that I have some duties toward this city. When the other gangs go too far, my Empire is there to stop them, and we are better at it than the Protectorate will ever be. If you truly wish to help Brockton Bay… then don't pursue some foolishly idealistic venue like the complete eradication of every gang. Settle instead for the gang that will be best for the city."

He pauses, and you speak: "Well, if anything, I'm thankful that you did not try to win me over by arguing that we were both champions of some master race destined to fight side-by-side. That argument was plenty insulting when Hitler attempted it." Kaiser's eyes bulge slightly at that, but you refrain from grinning as you continue. "The answer to your request, however, is an unmitigated negative. There will be no compromises with the Empire. Its operations will not be allowed to resume. Its ideology will not be allowed to go unmocked. Its crimes will not be allowed to go unpunished. Its existence will not be allowed to continue.

"I took on the Ku Klux Klan back when its membership was in the millions and included members of Congress. I won that fight, and America was a better nation for it." Imperceptibly, you have slowly started hovering, so that you are now towering above Kaiser. It's a cheap rhetorical trick, but it helps. "Your entire organization is built on hatred, gratuitous hostility, and convincing utterly terrible human beings that they are good and superior not because of anything they do, but by virtue of their birth. You take the scum of the Earth and teach them to think that they are morally superior to those whom they bully.

"Do not paint yourself as a defender of civilization, Maximilian Anders," you conclude before flying off. "You could be that, but you choose instead, again and again, to be a cheap peddler of hate and moral mediocrity."

Between you, the other heroes, the police, and yesterday's arrestees cutting deals, this day sees the arrest of twenty-two of the gang members. There will certainly be more arrests tomorrow. Additionally, "Familiar Farces" are hardly the only comedians to have declared open season on the Empire - ridiculing the racist gang is now in fashion.

As the sun sets, you once again jaunt back to New York. Ever since you killed Leviathan, there has been an increasing demand for you to once again speak in public, preferably at a press conference, and the Simurgh's demise has been pushing that demand even further.

You're doing even better than a press conference, though: Today, you are a guest speaker at the UN, with Glenn Chamber's backing. (You had to let him go over your speech, but you were both happy with the version you compromised upon.)

You stand before the sea of cameras and diplomats. Not a problem - you've done this numerous times, stretching back to the days of the League of Nations.

You open your speech with some generic niceties - you need to make it clear that this is for the global audience, not just one nation's public. And then…

"Two days ago, I killed the Simurgh. If that sounds like a boast, understand that it is not - I very nearly died in that battle. Leviathan too almost killed me, and against him, I had ample, much-needed help from many other champions. If I have given the impression that I can save the world on my own… then I assure you, such a feat is beyond me. Beyond anyone. Not one person can save the world.

"But all of you together absolutely can." A basic light-bending trick allows you stare directly into every camera at once. "I have seen again and again, both on my world and on Earth-Bet, the magnificent achievements that people can accomplish when joining forces. And now, mankind needs to work together more than ever before.

"The Endbringer War is not yet over. Behemoth lurks, and he will have reinforcement in time. The Endbringers, however, are not invincible. Not truly. If Earth-Bet's forces truly unite against them, then even they will meet defeat. The problem," you pause, "is that Earth-Bet is far from united. You spend more time fighting each other than the real enemy.

"The flames of conflict burn hot across this world. Nation against nation. Warlord against warlord. Supervillains fighting over the scraps of a collapsing society, instead of working to prevent that very collapse." You pause. "There should, by all means, exist an international military force with over a thousand well-trained parahuman super-soldiers, backed by elite personnel, the best equipment money can buy, and international agreements, ready to strike whenever an S-class threat rears its head. Instead, we have the current status quo. What Earth-Bet lacks isn't supersonic flight, nigh-invulnerability, or powerful energy blasts - though those are all nice to have," you smile slightly at the tiny joke, "but rather, cooperation. Your world suffers as much as it does because everyone keeps working at cross-purpose.

"This is not abnormal. Far from it. Cooperation is, and always has been, a challenging thing. How do you work together with someone whose desires are mutually exclusive with your own? How do you work together with someone who can gain much by betraying you before you can betray him? How do you work together with someone who has hurt you, hurt the things you care about, hurt the ones you love? These are problems that society has struggled with for millennia.

"And yet, all of those challenges can be, and have on many occasions been overcome. It is at the very core of what society is - people agreeing to join forces, to put differences aside and work together. It takes courage, taking a chance on trusting others… and yet, we do it every day."

You go on for a while. About how the countries of the world need to work together. About how Earth-Bet needs more heroes and less warlords. About how international law needs to become a thing again, if only so that the would-be warlords can be properly countered. And so on.

The speech ends after a while. Glenn chambers tells you it went fairly well - it's not going to turn international politics on its head, but it's a start.

Well. That leaves the other thing you wanted to do tonight.

You are flying over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, miles above the ground.

In your world, this would be the approximate location of Avalon - a constant threat hanging over the world, a stronghold of dark magic from which Nollius launches his nefarious plans. An international fleet, armed to the teeth, always surrounds the location from a respectable distance, observing signs of unusual activity.

On Earth-Bet, it's a fairly unremarkable spot in the ocean.

Pushing those thoughts away, you invest your power pool in telepathic communication. Your range is planetwide. Your target, just one man.

"Scion."

Silence.

Then response.

There are no words. Not per se. Rather…

[Surprise] [Curiosity] [Identity?]

Scion doesn't seem to think in words. This would support the idea that he suffers from some kind of autism. Either that, or he is inhuman in significant ways.

So, you adopt his own language of concepts, transmitting your own thoughts in a form similar to his own.

[Avatar]. With that thought, you include perhaps not the mechanics of gods, but at least imply that you are a physical avatar of something greater.

[Hero]. No bragging, no false humility. You simply express the most central element of your nature.

[Friend?]. No imposition, no request, simply an offer of goodwill.

Silence reigns for a brief while.

And then, the golden man appears before you.

Almost instantly, your main hypothesis goes out the window. You're not sensing any cosmic energy from Scion. Whatever else he is, he's not a god like you.

He does, however, seem to be some kind of projection. You're not detecting real organs, or anything even vaguely resembling earthly biology in his "body".

The golden man looks you over. [Unknown] [Inquiry] [Goal?]

You consider briefly before answering. [Protect] [Assist] [Inspire]

He seems to mull it over. You turn the question back at him: [Inquiry] [Goal?]

After some hesitation, he responds: [Sadness] [Loss] [Escape] [Help]

He has lost someone, or something. The grief is crushing him. He has been helping others as a way to escape those feelings.

You've certainly heard of worse ways to channel grief… but Scion has been at it for years, and he seems to still be grieving. [Sadness] [Situation] [Progress?]

He considers your question. [Sadness] [Constant] [Unchanging]

He's made no progress. He's saved tens of millions of people, but his grief remains as crushing as when he started.

So, slowly, gently, careful not to startle him, you give him a hug. [Empathy] [Communication] [Relief] You explain to him, as best you can, the importance of sharing his feelings with others as a mean of dealing with grief.

He seems startled - more by your ideas than the physical hug - but he considers them. So you go on. Telepathically, you explain to him the need to emotionally connect with others - it is a good, a glorious thing, that he saves lives, but if they're just statistics rather than people to him, it will feel empty. You could theoretically live like that, but most beings cannot; the emotional burden would be crushing.

Eventually, the unusual conversation moves to the actual effectiveness of his heroics.

[Communication] [Coordination] [Efficiency] You struggle to explain to him the need to work with others.

He seems unconvinced. Then you point out to him that, whenever Endbringers attack, he shows up to help… once he becomes aware of the situation, which at times is too late. He is receptive to the argument, and you manage to reach an agreement: He will provide a communication channel for the PRT to call him in the event of an Endbringer attack. As soon as the agreement is reached, a communicator forms around his wrist, looking somewhat similar to the one you have yourself been provided with.

And with that, Scion has apparently decided that your meeting has come to an end. He flies, at a speed greater than even yours, toward the East; roughly Britain's direction in your estimate.

Hours later, dawn is breaking in Brockton Bay, you've made another patrol through the city, and you've given the PRT your preliminary report. According them, a new communication channel appeared in the central mainframe in Washington, specifically devoted to Scion's communicator. It's the first time he has ever displayed tech-related powers - not too surprising considering his previously-displayed versatility, but still unexpected.

Scion was sighted flying over the British Isles shortly after your meeting. A couple hours later, he resumed his usual heroic activities; it's too early to tell if there is any significant change in his behavior.

Well. That leaves you with some time to decide on your strategy from this point onwards.

Objectively speaking, Brockton Bay is in a much, much better state than it was when you first came here. The addition of Kilogram, Dinah Alcott and Tsunami to its heroic roster will help a great deal, as will the large amount of money (officially "Endbringer reconstruction funds") that's about to be federally injected; the clearing of the boat graveyard and the upcoming increase in sea trade will help as well. The Merchants are down, Coil's organization has been destroyed, the Travelers are in custody, Empire 88 has lost a lot of its resources, the Undersiders no longer have Skitter; Leet was let go (on the logic that keeping him prisoner violated the Endbringer truce), but even so, the city's remarkably low on supervillains at the moment.

There is still work to be done, of course. However, the local heroes can handle it… and beside, the reason you were assigned to Brockton Bay in the first place was to help you learn the ropes of Earth-Bet. It's time to move on to something bigger.

Well, not right now. But from your conversations with the PRT, it sounds like you'll be getting transferred before the end of the week, and as before, your own thoughts on the matter will weigh heavily on where you go.

[ ] The New York Protectorate. That city has the largest villain population of the entire Western world, and the eyes of the world. You can help Legend clean up the Big Apple, while interacting as needed with diplomats at the UN.

[ ] Mexico City. In order to close the deal on Mexico joining the Protectorate, a deal can be worked where a number of heroes are sent down South to help out as an exchange program of sorts. You can fight the cartels and help the agenda of international cooperation by getting Mexico to join forces with Canada and the USA.

[ ] The Guild. This Canada-based superhero team specializes in fighting S- and A-class threats - the closest thing Earth-Bet has to the Global Champions. The majority of its members are also part of the Protectorate. Working with them, you'll have further opportunities to take down the biggest monsters on this world.

[ ] Go independent. You're grateful to the Protectorate for all its help, and you will gladly work with them in the future, but right now, you need to focus on being an international hero. You're going to try and go wherever you are most needed, try to get more countries working together, and you'll be more convincing if you're not affiliated with any one government's organizations.

[ ] Write-in.

HELLOS AND FAREWELLS

The next day is, if not quiet, at least lacking in world-shaking events.

Six hours are once again allocated to freeing Gray Boy's victims. It's a long road ahead to freeing all of them, but you will get there in time.

Some time is spent in training with members of the Protectorate and Wards. Shadow Stalker, Armsmaster and Aegis all display a drive to improve themselves. You don't learn much yourself (you have been at this longer than an average human lifetime, after all), but you think they might have learned a thing or two from you.

Some time is spent helping Noelle. You also ask some questions about the seventh team member, Cody. The Boston PRT say they'll look into what happened to him. Better if you can return the entire group to their dimension by the end.

Some time is spent patrolling the city. More and more of the arrested gangsters have been willing to cut deals with the DA, resulting in fifteen more arrests. In at least some cases, it turned out the Empire goons had packed up and left the city. You imagine more will follow suit soon.

And, of course, you keep track of events. Brockton Bay has received its cash influx, and it is already being put to work - getting the docks operational again, restarting the old ferry service to improve commuting, funding police, schools and infrastructure. Down South, Mexican politicians are pushing further and further for joining the PRT, and the whole thing is effectively considered a done deal - only the details remain to be decided, according to insiders.

Protectorate recruitment is also noted as being at an all-time high - partly from former villains trying to turn a new leaf, partly from various independent heroes, rogues, and new triggers who have decided to join the organization; commenters have noted several powerful new capes joining the Protectorate in the past few days, which is only helping renew optimism. There is also talk of upgrading Endbringer shelters with omni-metal.

Further away in international news, your speech in favor of international cooperation may not have turned politics on its head, but it's done some good. In Nigeria, a popular movement demanding that the local warlords form truces and help unify the country once more has been gaining a massive surge in support these past few days, with several major capes backing it.

In Western Europe, Spain and Italy have each agreed to transfer three of their parahuman law enforcement heroes to the European Union's joint superhero agency; it's not much, but hopeful commenters suggest that it's a move toward said joint agency becoming less of a sad joke in the future. In Vietnam, Black Sun and Phosphor - two parahuman warlords who control 20% of the country between the two of them - have agreed to a truce in their conflict, which had been going for nearly two years. Meanwhile, there has apparently been a surge in donations to the Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders and other international charities.

Earth-Bet is still a mess, of course. But if this trend holds, it will become less of a mess in the coming months.

The following day, your patrol with Assault and Tsunami provides you with an opportunity to check up on the latter.

"...So, yeah, my contract with the PRT is not exactly generous, but that's normal. I mean, not like I never fucked anyone over as a villain. Ten years of superhero community service is better than the fucking Birdcage. And with the three-strikes crap, I would be going to the Birdcage next time they caught me." She rides a controlled wave of water; her control doesn't leave a single droplet behind, and the stretch of road she just rode across is dry despite several metric tons of water flowing over it. "So, I guess that's another thing I owe ya. My villain career was never gonna end well."

You nod. "How are you getting along with the rest of the Protectorate?" Your impression from the glimpses you've been getting have been positive, but it is prudent to ask.

"Not bad. I was afraid I was gonna be the black sheep or something, but not really. I mean, no-one trusts me completely, fat boss lady is a bitch, crossbow girl is bitchier, and halberd boss has a second halberd up his ass, but most of the time, I'm just the new teammate."

"What can I say?" Assault chuckles. "Us do-gooding, pure-hearted white hats are inclined to optimistically believe the best of our fellow man."

Nine more Empire-related arrests today. The police confirms by now that people associated with the gang are leaving the city en masse, and from the looks of it, it's too organized to be generalized panic - this is, in all likelihood, Kaiser organizing an evacuation toward a new city. Such a move would inevitably constitute a huge hit to morale, but he must have figured that staying in place doing nothing while the Empire got dismantled would be even worse, destroying his leadership credibility.

Of course, Empire 88 are not the only ones leaving the city. Far more deserving of your well-wishes is Weaver.

The young heroine is being officially transferred to Boston today. She is set to live on the base for the first few days, until her father finishes wrapping up loose ends in their hometown and joins her. Thankfully, the PRT's financial support is generous enough that renting an apartment in Boston will probably not be an issue.

Even so, when the two of them show up at the base, they are surprised to see you there welcoming them.

"Um, hey." Weaver smiles awkwardly. "I'm actually glad we ran into you - today's my last stop here. I'm transferring to Boston this afternoon."

"I am aware of that," you reply with an amused smile. "I'm your chauffeur."

Her eyes bulge out. You explain: "By car, it would take a couple hours to get to Boston. I can get you there in a couple of minutes by teleporting. We'll need more than one jump, but it's still a time-saver."

Seeing the rapid succession of expressions on her face, you give her a reassuring smile. "You look like you're trying to decide whether or not to ask something. Feel free to err on the side of curiosity."

She hesitates, then finally says, looking uncertain: "It's not that I'm not grateful, but… you're fighting Endbringers, warlords, and the worst supervillains in the world. Is this really worth your time?"

You chuckle. "A minute of my time weighed against an hour of yours? I'm not convinced it's a net loss for the world, considering your performance against Cricket, how you saved everyone at the shelter, and how you stopped Purity from destroying the docks. Besides, even if I didn't think you were one of the most promising superhero trainees around - which I do - I can think of worse ways to pass my time than talking to genuinely good, likable people. With that said, I hope you will not take too much offense if I drop everything in the middle should an Endbringer interrupt.

"Speaking of good, likable people," you turn toward her father, "Mister Hebert, bringing two people with me as I teleport will not take more effort than bringing one. If you wish to see the Boston PRT installations and meet your daughter's teammates, it can be done right now. I apologize for not giving you more of a heads-up, but this was a last-minute arrangement - my own schedule has been fairly hectic this week."

A few minutes later (spent in generally pleasant conversation), the three of you have reached the Boston PRT HQ. Among the welcoming committee are the local PRT director, the Protectorate leader Rewind, and the Ward leader Weld. Presentations are made, including the majority of the Boston Wards (even Kilogram, who is getting transferred to Brockton Bay tomorrow). You make certain to smooth things over, and ensure that Weaver's new teammates see her as one of their own rather than merely an ex-villain. Soon enough, you return Mister Hebert to Brockton Bay.

And with that, it is time to resume rescuing Gray Boy victims across North America.

You have just finished rescuing one of the Chicago clusters when your communicator activates.

"Avatar? This is Legend. I know you're busy with Gray Boy's handiwork; is now a good time to talk?"

"As good as any. I'll need an hour to recover my strength anyway."

"Then I may as well show up in person."

A very short time later, he does so. As fast a flyer as you are, there is little doubt that the Protectorate leader is even faster.

"A pleasure to meet you again, Legend. To what do I owe this visit?"

"I mostly wanted to touch base and see how things were going," he smiles. "Before I go into that, I thought you might like an update on the Simurgh's predictions. The Australian reservoir time-bomb has been defused. India and Bangladesh are working on a cholera vaccination campaign, which should prevent the disease from getting anywhere near the triple digits if it strikes at all. Protectorate forces were fortunate enough to catch Shockwave before she could start real trouble, and we're working on the Chilean scammer. Storm Rider and the Gesellschaft remain issues, admittedly. With that said…" He maintains a steady gaze.

"You've joined the Protectorate as a probationary member. In less than two weeks, you've practically removed Brockton Bay's villain population. Now, I know you wanted some time to learn about Earth-Bet so you could make more informed decisions on what to do. I thought this might be a good time to ask for your thoughts so far."

You pause to consider. "Well, it would be a lie to claim I have no criticism to make of the Protectorate, but I generally approve of your organization's work. The Protectorate does more than any other group to promote cooperation among parahumans. However, it remains limited by national restrictions. Mexico joining is a step in the right direction, but I feel that I need to put more work into encouraging international collaboration.

"To be perfectly honest, I have given serious thoughts to leaving the organization in order to counter any perception of national affiliation," you admit. "I figured it would help me in acting as an advocate of international collaboration of heroism."

Legend speaks cautiously. "It sounds like you are leading to an 'on the other hand' statement."

You smile. "On the other hand, I don't know if you've heard my UN speech, but one point I've emphasized was that one man alone cannot save the world."

"Hence the need to work together."

"Yes, but I believe that statement can be taken a step further: One man alone cannot unite the world, either." You pause. "I am not trying to downplay my power or my charisma in some display of false modesty, Legend, but it is simple fact: No matter how much of a symbol of cooperation I try to make myself into, it will not suffice to change the world. There will need to be many other advocates for it. Heroes, leaders, media personalities… It can't just be me making speeches and smacking down the worst warlords. Besides, the Simurgh did almost kill me. I don't want to put all of Earth-Bet's eggs in the same basket."

He chuckles. "Well, I, for one, support this agenda. Just getting more people to Endbringer fights could make a huge difference. On a more international scale, I can ask the PRT to compile a partial list of people who would be worth your time talking to. But if you want a solid symbol for this, have you considered the Guild? Two thirds of its membership may also be Protectorate heroes, but they're not governmental, they include heroes from every continent but Antarctica, and they are often involved in high-profile, international operations. If you join the Guild, and perhaps recruit more members for it, you might be able to turn it into the spearhead of your globalization campaign."

"That is precisely what I was thinking," you admit. "An organization devoted to fighting S- and A-class threats frankly sounds like where I ought to be anyway. Of course, I would need to discuss the matter in-depth with its existing members."

"Well, you know Dragon, and you've at least seen Narwhal." Legend rubs his chin. "Hm. How much longer will you be working on the Gray Boy thing today?"

"About six hours."

"Tell you what: I'll see which members can have an impromptu meeting with you by then."

"Much appreciated."

A bit over four hours later, you are meeting with ten of the Guild's twenty-three current members. You recognize Narwhal (the Guild's leader), Strider, and one of Dragon's remote-operated robots. You give special thanks to South Korea's Laser Fist, Congo's Météore, and France's Surdoué for showing up despite the inconvenient time zones.

"Legend tells me you're considering joining the Guild," says Narwhal. "Obviously, we'd love to have this kind of firepower on our side. He also tells me, though, that you're looking at the political angle, and I'd like to hear the details directly from your mouth."

"It's simple enough," you state. "I wish to encourage both the parahumans and nations of the world to put their differences aside and work together. The Guild is already an international hero organization fighting the worst threats around. I believe that if I join you, if I help you recruit more worthy members from around the world, if we win together some major victories… then it may send a powerful message, and sway many hearts and minds."

Narwhal blinks, giving you an amused but not-quite-mocking smile. "Quite the optimist, aren't you? Even with your face stamped on the Guild, I doubt we can keep assholes from being assholes."

"I am not trying to solve every problem in the world, Narwhal. But if just one in every twenty warlords changes their behavior for the better… if just one in every twenty villains chooses to become a hero… if just one international squabble is resolved diplomatically… if just one A-class threat is neutralized… if just one additional half a percent of the world's capes decide to show up for future Endbringer battles…" you close your eyes, smiling as you wave past your shoulder, "then that makes it all worth it, does it not?"

"Not a bad way to look at it," she shrugs. "One thing has to be clear, though: The Guild is, and remains, about fighting the big threats. Politics can never come first. With the Protectorate, maybe. I understand why politics matter. But there has to be a group that will fight the big bads no matter what."

"I concur with both sentiments," says Dragon. "The Guild's core purpose should remain as it is, but I don't think we need to sacrifice that to champion the cause of international cooperation."

"There is going to be some pushback, though," says Surdoué. "There's no cause so noble that people won't fight it tooth and nail. The more of a symbol of anything we become, the more mud we'll see getting slung at us… especially if we start taking on people like Moord Nag and the Purifier," he gives you a meaningful look. "Admittedly, having the world's most popular hero and double Endbringer slayer on our side will help deflect most criticism."

"Call me biased," says Météore, "but I would support taking more warlords down in a heartbeat. I'm not convinced the Endbringers have actually caused more harm than plain, power-hungry capes."

"Personally, I think standing in our corner and letting most of the planet descend into warlordism is a recipe for disaster," says Silver Crusader, of the New York Protectorate. "Even if we decide we don't care what happens to most of the world, because we're either sociopaths or mired in realpolitik - whatever the difference is - who's to say the next world-threatening cape won't come from some warlord-torn hellhole? Nilbog and String Theory were Americans, but they didn't have to be."

"In short," says Narwhal, "we're going to need to discuss things internally. Give us a couple of days. You're almost certainly getting in, though."

"I appreciate it," you say. "What is the process for joining the Guild?"

"Our charter's intended to let us function quickly," she replies. "The Guild chairman - that's me - decides to bring someone in. Other members can block it with a three-quarter majority. Once you're in, you're a provisional member for one month, which is just like being a regular member except you don't get to vote. After that month, the chairman decides whether or not you graduate to full member, and the others need three quarters against to block it. Out of curiosity," she addresses the other Guild members, "if we were voting on it right now, who'd be against him joining?"

For now, at least, no-one seems averse to bringing you into the organization.

Another small cluster of timelopped victims has been liberated. There are now only 196 locations and 376 victims left.

Truth be told, you are still tired from breaking that last loop when the new alert shows up. Cape trouble in Brockton Bay.

Winded or not, you get there quickly. You see the civilians - most of them running in fear, some just gazing in horrified fascination.

At the center of the commotion, a wolf made of rotating metal blades, drenched in blood and surrounded by four badly-mauled, dark-skinned corpses.

Hookwolf, one of the highest-ranking capes of E88. His victims, judging from the color of their clothes, were likely Merchants.

"There you are," the neonazi gazes at you. "Figured you'd show up quickly."

"Hookwolf," you state simply, hovering in the air as your senses survey the area for any hidden surprise. You find nothing, beyond one civilian seeming to hesitate on whether or not to reach for the gun in his vest.

"They're leaving, you know," the villain says. "Kaiser has decided that the entire Empire is just going to run with its tail between its legs. Over twenty years of blood, sweat and tears, fighting to build our shining city on a hill, and he gives it all up because some glowing jackass makes the going get tough. We didn't run from Leviathan. I sure as Hell won't run from you."

His gaze intensifies. "I am a warrior. I fight to cleanse the world of drug-peddling scum like this," he indicates his victims. "I fight for a purer world. I fight for glory. Just because I do not expect to win a particular battle, it doesn't mean I'm going to give up. So go ahead, little godling," he somehow manages to grin in this form, "smite me. I fear neither imprisonment nor pain nor death. If I must fall, then I shall fall like a true Aryan warrior, so that my courage inspires others for generations to come!"

Your senses can detect Protectorate reinforcement headed this way - Miss Militia, Tsunami and Triumph will be here in a minute, with the rest following soon afterward. Not that their presence is needed - you could take Hookwolf effortlessly. He may be powerful by Earth-Bet standards, but a fairly average metahuman by those of Earth-Gimel.

But… is that the best approach?

[ ] He needs to go down, fast. Don't make it glorious - make it a humiliating curbstomp. Some mockery may be apropos, even if it's not your usual modus operandi.

[ ] You're the reason E88 is leaving Brockton Bay, but you won't remain centered around this city for much longer yourself. This is an opportunity - turn this into a victory for the regular Protectorate members. You can act as a subtle safety net, while turning the narrative against Hookwolf.

[ ] Write-in.

-End of page 3-