Author's Note: Big thanks to Two Pence for beta reading and helping me edit!

"I know this is scary, but it's really not that big a deal if you think about it," said Tattletale, skipping through the office. "How often did you really talk to your boss anyways? Aside from your articles actually being read, you'll hardly notice a difference, pinky promise."

"It will be different," I said, leaning next to the door. Armsmaster had been right, Brockton Bay's legal system was broken. I needed to fix it. To do that, I needed a way of communicating my expectations to the masses. It was time to make use of the piles of money we'd made off selling Soma. The Brockton Bay Inquirer was my newest purchase, my newest tool. "You'll write what we tell you. As I see it you were about to go bankrupt before us. You wanna quit, fine. Here's the door, you're free to go. But if you choose to stay, you follow orders."

The room was so quiet that I could hear the rain hitting against the side of the skyscraper.

"You can't expect this to work," said one journalist mildly, adjusting his glasses. "You really think that they'll just let you control the media? I should walk out. We all should. This is just another avenue of conquest, and I won't be a part of it."

"Then leave," I said, nodding at the door. "You're replaceable. I only need the distribution lines."

"Or take a minute to think," said Tattletale, shooting me a vulpine smile, and hopping onto the journalist's messy desk. Half written articles spilled off it but neither seemed to care. "Who really controls the media? Who spins the stories? Those you call 'villains'? Or the ones you call 'heroes'? How many of you know what my friend here stands for? How many of you know what I, the great Tattletale, stand for? Don't you think the people deserve the truth? I'm offering you primary sources, not PRT hearsay."

"I'm not going to be writing your propaganda," said the dark-haired man, standing, towering above us. "And I know none of my colleagues will either."

Tattletale smirked. "But somebody will. And baby oh baby it's gonna sell. Wanna know my powers? I can read minds. That's why the Triumvirate won't save you. They can't get near me or I'll expose all their secrets."

The dark-haired man sat down.

"You ain't in Kansas anymore," said Tattletale, looking down at him from atop her perch. "We can offer you access to the villains, to stories that never get told. Isn't that a journalist's job?"

"Okay princess," said a sharply dressed journalist, just as photogenic as her partner. I couldn't help but wonder if the hiring manager had hired for competence instead of looks, the newspaper may not have been in the red. "Prove it. What's your story?"

Tattletale flashed her a grin. "Me? My story? Well it begins as all stories do. When I mysteriously woke up one day with powers, told my folks, learned they were pieces of shit and ran away. Tried to make it alone, that ended with me staring down a gun barrel. I needed a crew so I picked out Bitch and Grue, and an anonymous few. Good or evil, I wasn't aligned, just like my hero Faultline. I played by the rules, stole money from guys who could afford pools, and gave the heroes some action so they'd be prepared for monsters like Leviathan. But I won't deny why I checked into the game, for the money and the fame. That's true for most capes, from legends like Alexandria to jokes like Leet. Some though, some are in it for other reasons." She nodded at me.

"If you're not in it for glory," said the journalist. "Why are you buying a newspaper?"

It was a good question. One I'd prepared for. Still though, I took my time, made sure that my thoughts were organized, coherent. Their attention pressured me to speak, but I let the silence linger for another few moments, steeled myself, listened to the steady splattering of rain droplets on the window. I closed my eyes and let my senses drift to the stamps. In the PRT, in a pair of dumps, and one back home. I was in all four of those places, and here. With my awareness expanded, my nerves disappeared. We were so small.

I opened my eyes. I was ready.

"Because the people deserve the truth," I said. "Brockton Bay is dying. Bet is dying. The gangs rule the streets, the government is failing to provide basic services, businesses have vanished, our schools aren't safe, the courts have been neutered, and people run from their existence with hard drugs. These problems have solutions. Solutions current leadership, whether it be the mayor or the protectorate refuse to pursue. Because it won't win them an election, because it won't help them sell action figures, because actually solving the hard problems will be painful, unpopular, and unprofitable. Can't be seen brutalizing villains, if you fight the bad guys on their level you've already lost, I used to think like that once. Being a good person got me hospitalized, while the people who put me there laughed, and the people in charge did. Absolutely. Nothing. More worried about the criminals than the victims. The Protectorate is a joke, Mayor Christener is a joke. Kaiser's laughing. Lung laughed too. Once. I stopped him. I was born here. I grew up in the Docks. This is my home. I am going to save Brockton Bay."

Every journalist in the room had their eyes on me. I waited for one of them to contradict me. Say Armsmaster had killed Lung. Maybe defend the mayor. Or the sheer hypocritic absurdity of me, Taylor Hebert, calling someone else a joke. More than anything I waited for the laughter, the mockery. That I was trash, that the idea of me saving anything was a fantasy. None did.

"And how exactly are you going to save the city?" Asked one reporter.

"Rules," I said. "That apply to everyone: from the Simurgh to the lowest worm, nobody is exempt. Cross them, and you become an enemy. Same as Bakuda."

I paused. Waited for the laughter. The objections. Nothing.

"No drugs," I said. "No robberies. No rape. No prostitution, no human trafficking, and no bullshit power abuse. Not from the ABB or the Undersiders; not from the Empire or the Merchants; not from the teachers, lawyers, and corrupt politicians; and not even from your so-called 'heroes' perpetuating this broken system. They won't be able to protect the powerful from consequences any longer. Nobody escapes justice. I'm going to bring back the Brockton Bay we once all loved. No more trash on the streets, no more addicts ruining their own lives and others, no more cape violence. I'm gonna fix it. Bring business back, bring jobs back. I'm gonna make it so we can trust our courts and schools and police."

"I'm gonna make the ferries run again," I whispered to Mom. "Make you proud that you lived here. I will save Brockton Bay. And I'll destroy anyone who tries to stop me."

From there, I let Tattletale take back the lead on the operation. It took a week before I saw the newspapers lining the shelves. At first it didn't seem like much had changed. I passed a few news stalls, and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. School wasn't so bad anymore, nobody was willing to cross Glory Girl to threaten me. It had taken her all of ten minutes to stop the bullying. That's what a competent authority should look like. That's what fucking integrity looked like. It was probably unreasonable to expect a teacher to be able to threaten students like a cape could, but perhaps expulsion? Easy. I wouldn't be averse to a little corporal punishment either. Actually, eye-for-an-eye seemed perfectly reasonable. If you push someone in a locker full of used tampons, get ready to spend an hour in there yourself.

Of course I'd need a way of ensuring accountability. I chuckled humorlessly as I remembered how Bakuda had defeated me when we'd first fought. Cameras, cameras everywhere. Rig the school with cameras recording everyone, everywhere at all times, store the footage using VCR tapes. Maybe preserve one day's worth of tapes in backup, then record over them. If a student had a complaint, they'd just need to remember the time and location, and a fact-based conclusion could be reached. Let Emma try and ask for evidence then! And what was it Coil had done to our old headquarters? He'd bugged the place. I could bug the school. Make sure every word could be replayed. And if I could do it to a school, I could do the same to the town. Maybe not the entire city, but key areas people could keep to, in order to stay safe. Museums, banks, gas stations, tons of places already did it, and it fucking worked!

The biggest reason people turned to crime was the same reason that pieces of shit like Emma had bullied me. They thought they could get away with it. They thought justice was blind.

It didn't have to be. Installing the necessary surveillance could solve crime forever. Politicians were just too squeamish, too concerned with what people thought of them to actually fix the problem.

I could fix it, if I were in charge. I wouldn't let the belly aching of bleeding hearts like my dad stop me from doing what was required to keep my people safe. I could fix it. I could fix it.

And if I could, didn't I have a responsibility to do it? If nobody else would, was it really alright to just sit by and let everyone suffer?

"That's a fucking horrible idea," said Victoria, as we ate lunch together on the roof. "Please tell me that that's not her next scheme."

"It would fix things," I said, unwilling to give up on my great idea. "You just don't understand what it's like. People with power abuse it all the time, because they know that the system will always side with them. The courts, the schools, or just a popularity contest: it doesn't matter, it's all the same game. The only reason Emma had to stop is because you had more power than she did, otherwise she would've gotten away with it forever. Get over your programming for a moment, and try to answer objectively: wouldn't having footage of actual events make things more fair? How many problems do we get into because we can't tell when someone is lying? Doesn't it actually help the poorest and weakest? I think that that's the problem. The rich and powerful have poisoned the well, they've paid Hollywood, they've paid the schools, all to trick us into thinking that holding the bullies accountable somehow means your mysterious freedom is being taken away. News flash, your so-called freedom is just an excuse to keep bullies from being held accountable."

"Or the teachers could have just done their fucking job," said Victoria lightly. "Brockton Bay isn't that bad. Winslow is definitely corrupt, but Arcadia wasn't, and Immaculata isn't. What you're proposing is a classic overreaction. You really want to give a fucking kidnapping murder the ability to spy on us…"

I held my tongue as Vicky went on an emotionally-driven, somewhat disturbing rant. Victoria was a good person, but she didn't know what the fuck she was talking about. She'd grown up in a bubble of rich, beautiful people, she didn't have a clue how most of us lived. She was as spoiled and sheltered as Tattletale always made her out to be. Next time the two encountered maybe I'd let Tattletale have her fun, it would do Glory Girl some good to be torn down a peg or two.

Victoria held out a newspaper. The Brockton Bay Inquirer. My newspaper.

"Everywhere's taken control of the press," said Victoria. "Had them run lies about the Protectorate. This is dangerous. This is, this is fucking horrifying Taylor. This isn't an attack on capes, this is an attack on the the fucking mayor. This is a statement of intention."

"Is the nightmare beginning?" I asked. "Or have we just been trying to fool ourselves into thinking we aren't already in one?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Everywhere wouldn't be a threat if the Protectorate were actually doing it's job."

"She took my sister from me," said Victoria, her aura flaring, hovering a foot above me. "She almost killed my fucking boyfriend robbing a bank! Brave words Taylor, but you're never gonna fight her. You don't know what it's fucking like!"

I smacked the newspaper she was holding. "She says she wants to save the city. Make the ferries run again. Do you even fucking get what that means? You know why they were never brought back? Because the ferries connect the Docks with the rest of the city. You guys threw us out to dry, let us deal with Lung, the Merchants, the refugees, and the corruption all alone. For all that Bakuda said, she was right about one thing: You never considered us equals. You're gonna come into the Docks on your high horse and tell me how to make things better? You never actually solved any problems, you just exported them to a place you didn't have to look at and gave yourself a big pat on the back for a job well done."

Victoria took a deep breath and touched down. "I heard what they did to you. I can't even imagine, and I totally get why you'd want to burn everything down. I should have been there. I'm here now. I'm going to fix things Tay. Just give me some time."

I looked at Glory Girl's extended hand. Pristine and clean.

"Prove it," I said. "Get rid of the Empire before Everywhere."

Somehow, Dad was being even dumber about the whole thing than Victoria. You'd have thought that I'd killed Alexandria not purchased a bankrupt newspaper syndication.

"I just think it's funny," I said, the sloppy joes I'd made for dinner untouched on my twice chipped plate, the buns slowly getting soggy and brown. "That all the so-called heroes get interviewed all the fucking time but when a villain does it it's suddenly the end of the world. It's the same fucking thing, but one group's popular and one group's not."

"Don't try and equate what happened to you at Winslow with what's happening here," said Dad. "We've got a villain running a propaganda campaign. Paving the way for… Taylor, I know we made a deal, but this is too much. We're moving."

I trembled. Him too? I'd actually held up my end of the deal. I hadn't killed anyone and I'd been to school every fucking day, but the second things turned against him justice went out the window. He was no different than the rest of them.

"Did… Did you even read the article? She said she'd bring the ferries back. Don't you care anymore?"

Why? Why did Dad hate me? Didn't he see how hard I was working for him, for everyone? How much I was putting myself through? The danger, the hard decisions, making myself public enemy number one? Did he think I liked being a villain? Did he really think I was just in it for power? After all I'd been through with Emma, how could he think that? How? How? Why couldn't he see that I was good?

"Of course I care!" Dad roared. I shrunk into my chair. He'd never yelled at me before and I didn't like it. It was like I was back in time, when Emma had first turned on me. "Of course I can see the good she's doing! Of course I can understand the appeal! Don't you fucking get it? That's what's so horrifying! Kaiser, Lung, not even fucking Jack Slash and Glaistig Uaine terrify me a tenth as much as she does. She's got mainstream appeal that no other villain has ever had! She's going to take over the city, and things aren't going to fall apart. What if things actually do get better? How long until we've got copycats? How long until every aspect of every city in America is controlled by the strongest cape? She represents an existential threat to the Protectorate. Don't be fooled, this article is a declaration of war. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"Doesn't she have a right to criticize the PRT and the government, by the first amendment?" I asked rhetorically, forcing myself to straighten my back, keep my voice steady. "If a few words scare you so much I really think that says more about you than about her."

Please Dad. Be better than Emma.

He was quiet for a moment and I allowed myself to imagine that I'd finally gotten through to him. "Do you think I'm a fool? Do you think I can't see what's going on?"

Fuck. Had he… Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"You've got some kind of connection to Everywhere," Dad said quietly, slowly, like each word hurt him. "You know too much about her. All her philosophy, everything she's planning and why. Are you…" He looked at an old picture, when Mom had still been alive; he couldn't even bring himself to ask. "You know her because of Lisa. Probably better than I'd like to admit. So yes, I hold Everywhere to a higher standard. Because I can see her twisting you, turning you away from the daughter your mom raised. Making you forget everything we've taught you about decency, goodness. Maybe you think she's a friend. Maybe she's giving you a taste of power. A powerful… position… in her ranks. I can't help but remember… You know… Your teachers recommended that you skip a year. Your mom wanted it, I was the one who stopped it. Because I wanted you to stay close to Emma. Taylor kiddo, everything that happened to you was my fault. And Everywhere, she's a thousand times worse for you than Emma ever was. I'm not ignoring you ever again, Taylor."

"I…" The words stuck in my mouth. He wanted me to deny it. Just deny it; I had to deny it.

"That's why we have to move," he said, still afraid to even look at me. "She's taking you from me. I… I want my daughter back."

"I wish I could give her back to you," I said, as I felt something precious falling away at last. "I wish I could be the daughter you and mom raised. I wish I could move out of the city and pretend for you. But the part of me that you loved died in that locker. I know how to save Brockton Bay and I've got the power to do it. It's my duty. My purpose. My struggle."

I stamped the table in front of me twice, replacing the stamps in both dumps, and deactivated both. Made my power reliable, made myself dangerous. I was sick of putting off what everyone knew needed to be done. I wanted to go kill something.

"Taylor," said Dad shakily. "Do you understand what you're saying?"

"Do you?"

This wasn't the man my mother had fallen in love with. This wasn't the man who'd raised me. I looked at him and saw a stranger. Somewhere along the line, he'd lost his will to fight. Surrendered. Groveled to the bullies who'd taken over the system and rationalized it away as justice. Everywhere I looked, I saw good people who'd given up, people who'd have left me in that locker because they were too scared to do what they knew was right.

I was going to save the world. And nobody, not even Dad, could stop me. Before I left my home for the last time I stopped by our trash can, and tore a long thin strip from the garbage bag.

"I'll make the ferries run again," I said.

Halfway to the Undersiders headquarters I put on Everywhere's mask.

"Tattletale," I said, a part of me almost giddy. "The skeletons in Medhall's closet. What are they?"

"Nothing big enough to counter the good we're doing," said Tattletale. "We could save millions. Maybe billions. And if you know you're going to feel obligated to throw it all away."

"Let me be more direct then," I said. "Is Max Anders Kaiser?"

Tattletale deflated. "... Yeah…"

I wasn't surprised. There was plenty of evidence. How Kaiser had spoken to me, how he'd known Tattletale's secret identity. But more than that, a part of me had always known that Medhall's offer had been too good to be true. People in power didn't give a shit about those beneath them. I'd offered them billions and billions, I'd offered them the world, and all of them had spat in my face. Only the nazis had given me a chance, and that had only been to try to escape justice using our joint operation as a meat shield.

"Do we really want to go to war with the Empire?" Asked Tattletale. "They've stopped most of their violence and they've shown a willingness to work with us. If we take down their capes, we still have all the racists making up the rank and file. Lung and Bakuda ruled by fear, but the Empire has true believers. We won't just be able to absorb them like we did with the ABB. Are we going to kill them all or re-educate them? How? And what about the power vacuum? Another gang will just fill the vacuum, and they may be a lot worse."

It was so fucking easy to rationalize away cowardice. With Soma unleashed, I'd never need to beg the nazis, the politicians, or the fucking banks for money ever again. We had more than enough resources to create a shell company of our own. As for the rank and file, we'd have to sift through who was redeemable and dispose of those who weren't, much like we had with the ABB. It would be ugly, mistakes were possible, but letting bullies off the hook just made life shit for the people trying to do the right thing.

"Tonight we plan," I said. "Tomorrow we end an Empire."

"I thought you'd never say it," said Panacea. "Let's go kill some nazis."

ooOoo

"Appearances, conversations, even past actions can be deceiving. You want to see who someone really is? There's only one way. Test them. Their character, their beliefs will only be revealed when placed under pressure."

"I…" said the girl, glancing at her uncle on the floor. "I won't do what you want. I won't play your games. I'll… I'll…"

"Now, now," said the man casually, despite the situation. "No need to be afraid. I'm not the monster people make me out to be. Truthfully I'm misunderstood. Most say that I hate humanity, an absurd lie based on their own ignorance. The truth is I love humanity far more than any of my critics. My life's purpose is to help people achieve self-actualization and provide them with an environment where they can truly be themselves. That's my superpower, transforming people into the best version of themselves."

The girl felt a pressure against her neck.

"Ultimately, I came here as a favor to a friend who believes in you dearly. I want to help you live up to your potential. To do that, you must discover the answer to the only question which truly matters. Underneath it all, underneath the mask, just who are you?"

ooOoo

Either the Empire or the Undersiders would fall tonight. I hadn't replaced the stamp in the Protectorate- I still needed it for Coil- but instead refined the method I'd used when I'd fought Brockton Bay's pathetic PRT with an RC car. It was all well and good to stick my opponents with capsaicin coated needles, but in my weeks of lovey-dovey pacifist bullshit, I'd researched ways to improve my methods. In castor beans there was a highly deadly organic compound called ricin. It was estimated that a lethal oral dose would correspond to one milligram per kilogram of human body mass. By those calculations, I'd need about 136 milligrams to take down a 300 pound man. But of course it could work faster if injected directly. At first I'd considered filling up needles, but then I'd realized I could come up with something more practical if I utilized Panacea. She'd refined and created stingers, each filled with one gram of ricin, that upon forceful penetration of the skin, would find and inject the toxin into the nearest blood source. It would take two minutes to kill upon injection into a muscle, and would be fatal within seconds if I could get the stinger anywhere close to an artery.

None of my research had been wasted, Regent had pointed out that I could use the less deadly compounds I'd wasted time researching to paralyze rather than kill, using the same method of stinger injection. Not only would it protect us from the Protectorate's holier-than-thou interfering, paralysis would allow Panacea and Regent to capture enemies and turn their powers onto our side. That would probably be necessary.

Mundane as it was, gunfire would be our biggest problem. Without a portal shield, I didn't have any way to deflect their bullets. Panacea had turned the ABB members we'd purged into body armor, but they would only protect us from oblique hits, and Tattletale and Grue were so coddled that they'd refused to wear them despite the obvious strategic advantages. Sure they were uncomfortable, even through the full body lycra suit, I could feel the flesh slithering around me like a mass of earthworms, but functionality had to take priority over comfort and style. In any event, nothing could protect us against a direct strike from a bullet.

Well, maybe a wall of steel. Who could make steel again? Oh right, Kaiser. Such a shame that our enemies had the powers we needed to win the fight. If only there was some way we could gain access to their powers… If only we had a master.

We had two.

So the strategy was simple. Walk straight into Medhall headquarters saying we had another idea. Gain audience with Max Anders, have Tattletale signal which capes were in the room, and then strike. He'd have guards, so I'd have to take care of their guns first. Teleport them into the vents of the Protectorate as quietly as I could. Then I'd paralyze Kaiser, and attack Othala. If she weren't present, I would attack based on which capes present posed the most immediate risk. That meant Stormtiger would be a target before Hookwolf, as his attacks could be lethal faster. In order, I'd attack: Stormtiger, Night, Hookwolf, Krieg, Fenja, Menja, Victor, Fog, Alabaster, Cricket, and finally Rune.

Funny thing was that the only thing that separated Medhall's skyscraper from those surrounding it was a symbol above the glass entrance doors, a black crown against a red and yellow background. I probably should have seen Max Anders for the megalomaniac nazi fuck that he was. I'd even talked with him personally. One-on-one.

See, that gave me some insight into him. I didn't think he was actually a racist, nor that he was especially prone to violence. No, he just wanted money and power, and didn't give a shit who he hurt to get it. He was worse than the Principal Blackwells and Alan Barnes of the world, but only due to circumstance and opportunity. Afterall, they'd been just as willing as he had to throw their morals into the toilet as soon as it became inconvenient for them.

Fuck them all, but fuck Kaiser first.

I threw open the doors to Medhall, and stalked forward confidently, my crew of Undersiders behind me. Strangely, we weren't stopped by security, nor even by a receptionist. The building was empty.

Bitch's dogs whined, and refused to enter.

"Kaiser should be here," said Tattletale. "Or at least somebody… I don't know what's going on and neither do my powers."

"I don't like it," said Grue. "This feels like a trap. We can always try again tomorrow."

"If my pack is out, I'm out," said Bitch, abandoning us.

I frowned. A camera stared down at us from the end of the hall. The lights started to flicker, strobing until they reached the elevator. An invitation.

"Fuck this," said Bitch. "I ain't going any further."

"Are your powers telling you this is a trap?" I asked.

"My powers aren't telling me anything," said Tattletale. "But I think this is a trap. Grue is right, they've got more firepower, and if they know we're coming we're cooked."

So run away then? Try again tomorrow?

No. Fuck that. I wasn't taking a single step back. If I could stand up to my Dad I could obviously stand up to Kaiser. I walked into the elevator. It stayed open until we were all inside, and accelerated upwards without prompting.

Someone was watching us race to the heart of the Empire. I didn't care.

When the elevator opened the first thing that hit me was the smell. Iron, shit, and ammonia.

Grue threw up his lunch next to me. Unlike the base floor, the penthouse had plenty of people, although they were inside out. Like paper snowflake decorations in an elementary school, fleshy swastikas hacked from various bodies hung from the ceiling, suspended by intestines instead of strings.

It appeared the mystery of the disappearing Empire had been solved.

"My power's not working! My power's not fucking working!" Tattletale hammered the first floor button. "Ohhh fuuucckkkk… Ohhhh fuckkk… Oh my fucking god."

"Hey!" Said a voice, emanating from the building's PA system. "Don't swear!"

Grue covered us in a shell of darkness, and Panacea started to sob. She clutched onto my arm and hid behind me.

Well… If I survived this, I was gonna fucking kill those assholes from TIME. It did occur to me that this may have been exactly what Dad had been so afraid of. There was always a bigger fish. If I made violence and killing the path to power, then wouldn't that just attract those who were best at killing?

Maybe he'd been right, but so what?

I just had to win and everything would be fine. I just had to win. I just had to fucking win. Afterall, they'd only defeated the Triumivirate- what, three times? And maybe that was before they'd gotten their strongest member, but… Um…

Jesus Christ what I had gotten myself into?

I took a breath. Then another. And another. Just another moment, just another moment. They were just capes, they were just capes, I'd fought… I'd fought psychos before… I'd fought psychos before.

I had been given powers to take down bullies.

I had given my powers for this moment. Now. Kill them, and I'd be a hero forever.

Just win. Just win. Just win.

Somehow…

I stepped out of Grue's darkness, and pushed aside the bleeding corpses in my way. Bleeding? Didn't that mean that they were still…

One breath. Then another.

One step. Then another. And another.

Regent was the first to follow, but the rest weren't far behind. I sensed a figure in the distance. A trap? Probably. I tagged him in the neck with one of Panacea's stings. Predictably, nothing happened. The figure plucked it out idly, and held it out in front of him. My greatest weapon had been neutralized. If I were to rate how screwed I was on a scale of one to ten I'd put the situation at maybe thirty, although that was probably pretty optimistic.

No. Can't think like that. Even if he was the most infamous one on the planet, even if his past victims included the Triumvirate at the height of their powers, he was just another bully. Just another bully, Tay, just another bully. If I didn't fight here, what the fuck had been the point of anything I'd done?

"See," came the same bubbly voice from before, her voice echoing through the building's PA system. "Isn't this ever so fascinating? It's like something Uncle Breed would have come up with! I told you Amelia would be a great addition!"

Shooting him probably wouldn't work. Couldn't really hurt either, could it?

I teleported Lisa's handgun to PRT headquarters, then back in my hand, and unloaded the clip. The figure didn't so much as flinch. Well… It had been worth a shot.

"Do you like our work Everywhere?" Asked the dark-haired man, mocking me with a smile. He put a bloody burlap sack down on a large chair, at the head of the table. A tall naked woman with black and white stripes stood by his side. She was invisible to my stamp sense. "I exposed so many of them, but not the one you came here for. I wouldn't desecrate the rest of them with his presence. He was so hollow, nothing more than a mask. The racism, the power, the confidence- all lies- even his name was hollow. He was no Ceasar. If he were genuine, he would know that there can only ever be one king."

I walked to the Empire's throne. Opened up the sack. Max Anders' head rolled right out.

"Like you do," said the man, twirling a knife. "Who are you? A king? A victim? A bully? A hero? A villain? A monster? Perhaps all those things, but I know what you're not. Me. People just see the superficial butchering, but they don't see that we hold fundamentally incompatible beliefs. You see humanity for what it is and seek to reject it. I see humanity for what it is and seek to embrace it."

I teleported a few more stings into his neck as he walked to me. Past me. Of course. He wanted Panacea. Perhaps the most powerful cape in the world. Only a few could make a legitimate claim for that title.

And two were in the room. One was Panacea. The other had joined the Slaughterhouse after butchering a squad of thirty capes that had joined together to stop her.

The Protectorate's greatest failure, Glaistig Uaine, watched us impassively, two newly claimed ghosts above her shoulders.

"But the articles weren't exactly wrong," said the man. "I will need a successor eventually. Someone to carry on my legacy. Someone just as interested in humanity as I am. Someone who tears off the masks so many like to wear, exposing their true self for all to see. Someone. Truly. Dangerous."

He walked right past Panacea, and finally stopped in front of the person he'd come for.

"Sarah Livsey," said Jack Slash, gently pushing on her domino mask with the tip of his knife. "You're going to end the world for me."