by wildbow
“If there’s an upside,” Legend said, his tone changing as if he were forcing himself to be less grim. “Tattletale said we’re making headway. It doesn’t look like it, but we’re taking chunks out of him. The strongest of us survive, we regroup, see what works, we’re stronger when it comes to the next fight.”
Except he’s indiscriminate. He’s killing the ones who can actually affect him, because he’s being reactive. We’re not stronger by virtue of the strongest surviving and consolidating because the only difference between this fight and the next is that we’ll be less.
I kept my mouth shut.
“Defiant and Dragon will be joining you guys here, to make up for the ones you lost. You’ll have Leviathan, at the very least. Chevalier and I will be a matter of minutes away.”
A few minutes is too long, I thought. But I didn’t want to state the obvious, didn’t want to argue.
I was trying to be good, trying not to raise any problems with a guy who could well be sensitive over the fact that I’d murdered one of his closest companions a few years back.
Besides, I knew that this pep talk was most likely Legend trying to reassure the wounded. Maybe even him trying to reassure himself.
He took his time, putting fresh bandages on a wound.
“I’ve followed your career,” Legend said. “I’ve seen you on the battlefields, fighting the Endbringers, old and new. The bugs are noticeable.”
“I’m nothing special.”
“You rendered Alexandria brain dead,” Legend told me. “That warrants attention.”
“Fair enough,” I said. I managed to get another blanket unbelted from the arrangement of straps that kept it in a folded position and then draped it over someone. Legend moved the end of the blanket, where it rested on the patient’s wounded foot.
“I wanted to know who it was that had killed Rebecca. I kept an eye on everything you did in the Protectorate, looked for the details about your past. I understand if that seems creepy…”
“I think I get it. You were close to her.”
“I felt close to her. In the end, though, there was a gap between my feelings and the reality. Still is, I suppose. Go through enough with people, build something from the ground up, you form ties.”
“Yeah,” I said. I looked over my shoulder. Mai, one of the kids Charlotte and Forrest were looking after, was there, alongside one of Rachel’s henchmen and a puppy. Giving comfort to a child from the other settlement who’d been burned by the same effect that melted the costumes of the Dragon’s Teeth. The burns weren’t horrible, but it made it hard to tell the child’s ethnicity or gender.
But the child was scratching the puppy behind the ear. Rachel stood nearby, arms folded, stern and ominous. I felt a kind of fondness, tempered by a kind of hesitance, like I couldn’t let myself hold on too tight to the friendship and familiarity because she could be dead by the end of the day. Though it was sharper than it had been in the past, it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.
Legend was looking at me when I turned back to him. “Yeah.”
“It doesn’t always make for the most sound decisions.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. I had to scoot out of the way as some doctors hurried by with fresh tools and equipment. Removing the dissolved materials from burned flesh was something of a task, and there were a lot of people to help.
“I always knew there was something wrong, underneath it all, but there were bigger things to focus on. You finish dealing with one Endbringer attack or a potential war with parahuman attacks on both sides, it demands all of your focus. You’re left drained, dealing with the event or the aftermath, and then you need to recuperate, you have an organization to manage. There’s never a moment where you can stop, take a deep breath, and then say, ‘now is the moment where I address that nagging doubt I had the other day’. Now is the moment I call so-and-so out on that less-than-complete truth they used while we were elbow-deep in Indonesian cyborg super-soldiers.”
“I think I know exactly what you mean.”
“I think it’s very possible you do,” he said.
“But you can’t dwell on it,” I said.
“If you don’t give it the necessary attention, then how do you prevent it from becoming a cycle?”
“You don’t. You look back at your reasons for making the choices when you made the choices, you recognize that you didn’t address or act on your suspicions and doubts because you had higher priorities at the time, and you make peace with it.”
“Have you? Made peace with it?”
“I’m on my way there, Legend.”
“I’m not sure I want to go there,” he said. “Give me a hand? Hold his leg up?”
I nodded.
Gore. A foot reduced to something unrecognizable. The man would probably lose it.
But Legend still tended to the limb with care. Almost gentle. I tried to be as graceful in keeping the leg in the air.
The soldier made a noise of pain as Legend cleaned the foot, using a laser to sever a tag of flesh that was holding a piece of boot on. I reached out and held the man’s hand.
“You came in here for a reason,” Legend said.
I looked up.
“It’s not about taking care of the wounded,” he said. “You’re not devoting a great deal of attention to keeping an eye on Hellhound, either. Yes, you could use your swarm to discreetly observe her, to discreetly observe anyone in your range, but I don’t think that’s why you came here.”
I started to respond, but the soldier’s leg started kicking, an almost involuntary nerve reaction. I had to pull my hand from his to hold his leg as still as possible.
We eased it down until he was lying flat, his leg on the bed. I pulled a blanket over him, as carefully as I could.
“You have a question, or questions,” Legend said. “But you’re not asking them because you’re worried about the response. Either it’s something touchy, or there’s another reason why you’re holding back.”
I sighed. “If you don’t have an answer for me, then I’m not sure I know what I’m going to do next.”
“So this is about something only I would know?”
“Basically,” I said. “We don’t have access to that broad a pool of people, right now.”
“Okay,” Legend said. “What do you need to know?”
“Cauldron’s portals.”
“Closed. They’re created by a parahuman called Doormaker. The Doctor told me he was blind and deaf to his surroundings, but I think it’s far more likely that it’s to do with another parahuman she partnered him with. Someone who grants sensory awareness. I think the Doctor gave Doormaker too much exposure to this parahuman and destroyed or atrophied his other senses. One of those nagging doubts I never acted on.”
We passed by Rachel, Rachel’s minion and Mai. I gave Rachel a little nod of acknowledgement as we stepped outside.
Then we stepped outside. There was a shattered sign over the boarded-up windows. Apparently Tattletale had made some business deals and tried to get things in place for this to become a city like any one in Earth Bet. The pieces were there, but the furniture had yet to be installed, the food yet to be supplied. An empty fast food place, now a makeshift hospital.
Eat fresh? I thought. Not likely.
I took in the scene. Capes were still reeling from the attack, and again, it was the monsters and the lunatics that seemed to be standing, while others sat, recovering, catching their breath, mustering their courage.
Nilbog, engaged in conversation with Glaistig Uaine.
Four of the Heartbroken, with Imp and Romp. A maskless Imp gave Bonesaw a glare as the girl hurried, in the company of Marquis and Panacea, to the fast food place Legend and I had just left.
Lung was alone, looking angry, frustrated, almost more agitated than he’d been before or during the fight. His eyes were on Leviathan, who was down by the water, but I didn’t get the impression Leviathan was the source of the frustration.
Parian an
d Foil were together, Foil with her mask off. They’d curled up in a space between two large bins of food, Foil resting her head on Parian’s shoulder, their hands and fingers entwined.
Tattletale was caught up in a conversation with Knave of Clubs, and fell under the Simurgh’s shadow. The Simurgh, for her part, seemed to be busy building other tinker devices, drawing on the abilities of tinkers in the immediate area.
Vista was sitting on a rooftop, two stories high. Her eyes were closed, her hands set behind her so she could lean back a bit. Her face turned towards the sky.
There were other capes in the area, looking a little more serious, focused on business. Chevalier was with Defiant and Dragon, Black Kaze, Saint, Masamune and Canary. Some of them drifted off, making their way towards us.
“If it helps,” Legend said, “I don’t think Doormaker is dead. There have been two interruptions in his power, to date. One followed an earthquake. He was unhurt, but his partner… well, it was a clue that a partner existed. His doors all went down simultaneously the moment the earthquake hit the facility. I don’t think his power is the type that would outlast him after death, if it was so easily interrupted while he was alive.”
“So he’s alive because the doors are still open in places.”
“Alive and unable or unwilling to use his power,” Legend said.
I nodded. “So is it Cauldron running or is it another agency?”
I could see Legend’s expression change. I’d heard him talk before, saying as much, but his face was what told me, above all else, that he was burdened by regrets. “I wish I could say it was the latter.”
“But you don’t know.”
“I remain in the dark when it comes to Cauldron.”
“What about Satyrical?” I asked. “He was investigating with his team, wasn’t he?”
“He was, but he tends towards radio silence, Pretender’s people have since well before the Vegas teams cut ties with the Protectorate. They claimed it was because there would inevitably be a parahuman who could uncover them if they left channels open. Now… well, isn’t that the way most things were? Secrets, lies, conspiracies.”
“It is, but—” I tried to find a way to politely say what I was trying to say.
“But?”
“With all due respect, and I really do mean that because I respect you, I respect that you’ve participated in the fights, I get where you’re coming from…”
“You’re spending too much time couching what you’re saying,” Legend said. “Rest assured, I can handle what you’re about to throw at me. I think worse things to myself all the time.”
“I’m impatient. That’s all. Scion’s going to attack again, and I don’t plan to be here,” I said.
“You want a portal to get out of here,” Legend said.
“No,” I said. “I don’t want an escape. I want to act.”
“We’re acting,” Legend said.
“We’re reacting.”
“If you have ideas for something pre-emptive, I think we could all stand to hear it.”
I shook my head. “Nothing definitive.”
“Even something that isn’t definitive.”
“I want to find Cauldron. They have contingency plans we know they haven’t put into effect yet, and they have answers they’ve yet to provide.”
“Cauldron is very good at leading people to believe that they have the answers and then disappointing,” Legend said. “Take it from someone who knows. Ah. I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Like an old man.”
He smiled, and I smiled a little too.
“You’re an old man?” Chevalier asked. His group had just joined us.
“Taylor here was just very politely trying to tell me I’m wasting her time on reminiscing and regrets.”
“You have something better to do?” Defiant asked me.
“Defiant,” Dragon said, admonishing him. She was in her armor, but had her helmet off. The face was real. Plain, but real.
She’s an A.I. A false person. What else had Saint said? She’s deceiving us? It’s all an act?
“…came out wrong,” Defiant was saying. Very deliberately, he said, “I am genuinely curious what you’re doing, Weaver.”
Dragon smiled a little, as if a private thought had crossed her mind.
The doubts Saint had seeded dissipated.
Ninety percent of them.
“I was telling Legend I want to go after Cauldron,” I said. “A member of the Chicago Wards was saying that sending Satyrical to go investigate is like sending a fox to guard the henhouse.”
“Satyrical has definite ties to Cauldron,” Dragon said. “If nothing else, Pretender maintains connections to the group. If Cauldron is running, or if they are pulling something covert, then it’s very possible Satyrical is on board or is going to be brought on board.”
Chevalier shifted the Cannonblade to his other hand, then stabbed the point into the ground. It looked different. His armor looked different. Gold and black, instead of gold and silver. “It also means he and the Las Vegas capes are well equipped to know how Cauldron operates, and identify clues others would miss. We sent them with others we could trust. They’ve been reporting in on schedule.”
I opened my mouth. Chevalier spoke before I could. “—With stranger and master precautions in place.”
I frowned.
“You’re strong when it comes to improvising,” Chevalier told me. “We’ve got a moment to breathe. We think he’s hitting another world, one we don’t have access to. We’re regrouping, figuring out who goes where, and we’re trying to set things up so we can mobilize faster. I can’t tell you what to do. I wouldn’t if I could. But we could use you here.”
“We’re losing, here,” I said. “Legend was being positive, but… I don’t think we can really delude ourselves that far. He’s tearing us apart while holding back. If we put up a fight or if we don’t hold back, he hits us harder, like he hit the Guild. He can always top us, and he can always say he’s had enough and then just nuke the continent. That’s not a recipe for an eventual win.”
“I don’t even think that’s the worst of it,” Tattletale said, finally having broken away from Knave of Clubs to join this conversation. “He’s evolving, maturing. If you can even call it that. He was a blank slate, then almost like a baby, flinging destruction around like a baby practices moving their arms, as if to remind himself he could… and then he was like a child in this fight… except for the bit about Queen of Swords. That suggested he’s almost entering an adolescent phase. Something more complex than just raw fear and awe. Loss, despair. He’s going to start looking for ways to really hurt us.”
“Instead of just annihilating us?” Legend asked. “Torture?”
“Mental, emotional, more involved physical torture. Up until he hits adulthood. Then he probably destroys us, completely and utterly. I’d be surprised if we lasted more than two days, rate he’s developing.”
“You’re talking about him as if he were human,” Saint said.
“He is,” Tattletale said. “It’s the only reason he’s doing this, and it’s the only way we have to truly make sense of him, and it’s his primary means of making sense of us. Which is why he did it. He’s got our general biological makeup. He thinks, he feels, he dreams, he hurts, but it’s all buried so far under mounds and mounds and mounds of power and security, it doesn’t really supplant him. It’s never been exposed to the real world, really, so the human side of him hasn’t matured or developed.”
“A weakness?” Chevalier asked.
“Yes, but not a weakness we’re going to be able to exploit,” Tattletale said. “He’s too careful, and he would have foreseen it. Adapted around it, probably. Be awfully stupid for something like him to adapt traits of their targets and adapt vulnerabilities at the same time. Knowing this could help, but it’s not going to be the weak point we can target to finish him off. That makes zero sense.”
“We know a lot of things like that,” I said. “A lot of ti
dbits about his behavior or who he is or what he is. But a lot of it isn’t reliable information. He cared a lot about my clone decoys multiplying during the fight on the oil rig, but he didn’t give a damn this time.”
“He’s advancing, evolving. His focus is changing,” Tattletale interjected.
“We know so many critical details,” I said. “And we need more. We need a way of paring truth away from fiction, or determining what’s no longer true. I don’t know for sure what we’re going to do to stop him, but I think any plans I have are going to start or end with Cauldron.”
I looked around the group. Men and women, all in armor that made them stronger, bulkier or taller, it seemed. Legend was comparatively small, but he had presence to make up for it, even as tired and worn out as he seemed to be. Flying, casual flying as Legend tended to do, gave one a little more stature.
I wasn’t short, but it felt like Tattletale and I were mortals in the midst of giants. Defiant, in particular, seemed somehow imposing. His body language was familiar with the way he’d naturally set his feet apart, his hand on his weapon.
Even the place we were standing, it stirred memories. We were at the north end of the Bay, even.
“Yes. The plan makes sense,” Defiant said. “I’ll trust you on this one.”
Dragon reached out to grab and squeeze his hand.
“What do you need?” Defiant asked me.
“I was thinking I’d bring some of the capes that can’t or won’t participate in the fight against Scion,” I said. My eyes fell on Canary.
“Me?” Canary squeaked.
“Anyone, but capes like you,” I said. “Support capes who can’t support in circumstances like this. Strangers who can’t use their power on Scion. Capes like that.”
“And if you can’t access Cauldron?” Chevalier asked. “I don’t want to put too fine a point on it, but your actions when you assumed control of the Simurgh were… heavy handed. You told an ex-teammate in the Wards that you weren’t intending to be a hero anymore. I don’t want to tell you I won’t cooperate any more than I want to tell anyone I won’t cooperate, but you’d be asking us to put a fair amount of power in your hands by sending capes your way. I… don’t know that I feel confident sending capes to you, if I don’t know how they’ll be put to use.”
