Cleaning things up and doing the dishes hadn't taken long at all.
The farmhouse still had a mismatched complement of furnishings left over from the last owner — the things too heavy or not valuable enough to take or sell. I don't think I had a single complete table setting, but I did have the orphan pieces of a half dozen, making for a plentiful, if mismatched, supply.
The surviving furniture was the same way, and the appliances... Quinn had had a couple of contractors blitz through it over the weekend, which is why I had a working refrigerator and oven, even if there was no bed sitting in the wrought iron canopied four poster frame. I did have three different chaise longues, though, and two of them were comfortable enough to sleep on, if cold.
I settled in on the back porch to watch the sun set, and wait.
One of the benefits of building right on top of the ridgeline of Captain's Hill was a gorgeous view in both directions: west across the hilly countryside, and east of the city running down to the bay. The way the setting sun dappled the hillsides was just beautiful, the sort of thick golden light that painters and photographers loved. While my spiders spun and my bees prepared themselves for swarming, I let myself relax and take in the beauty. Eventually, the sun touched the horizon and seemed to widen and slow in that old deceptive way, and for a time I watched it drop below the horizon.
On impulse, I stood, and turned east, following the patio which wrapped around the house to the front porch, the last light of the sun casting my shadow before me. The city itself was already in darkness, shaded by the hills, but the sky remained bright. I scanned the streets, just now brightening with streetlights and headlights, wondering about the fighting that might be taking place there tonight.
Wondering what I'd need to do to end it.
The ABB had had, courtesy of Bakuda, a single shared weakpoint, and had perished en masse. Lung and Oni Lee had survived — and someday, I'd have to reckon with Lung — but as two capes, alone and without support. In some ways, I could sympathize with Lung: trying to change things alone was... tricky. Empire Eighty Eight had more than four times as many capes as ABB. And more soldiers and territory, too.
Even before.
With them fragmented like that, I wasn't sure how to approach the problem of a civil war among the remnants of the Empire. Indiscriminate constant pressure until the weakest fled to safer cities? Target the leadership? Pick a faction and support it? Pick another gang, and support their takeover?
It was looking like it would have been a lot simpler to back ABB in a takeover of E88, and then kill Bakuda. Except for the fact that that would have involved vastly increased casualties, that probably would have been the neatest way to tie off the gang problem in Brockton Bay.
Not an option anymore.
The crunch of gravel under tires, heard through a hive stationed near the entrance, settled in for the cool of night, led me to stand and mask up again. I checked the table setting fretfully, turning the heat up under the kettles. I still wasn't sure why the house had come with two different enormous kettles, but I suspected one of the previous owners really liked tea.
I thought again about the possibility that Lisa would be bringing more than her invited self. I hadn't allowed for that with the Wards, and I really should have. In this case, I'd gotten off lightly with a somewhat awkward afternoon of socializing with junior heroes... but not accounting for unexpected reinforcements was exactly the kind of mistake that got Kaiser killed.
I would learn from that.
I had to.
I thought again about what I knew about the Undersiders — little enough, really.
Grue's darkness, unless it cut off powers too, wouldn't stop me from navigating by swarm-sense, and I'd already positioned scattered lines of insects, marking out doors, stairs, lines of retreat. I was pretty sure Lisa's power wasn't made for direct offense. I had no idea what Regent could do, and was hoping that it was limited to line of sight, or similar. If things came to it, I could retreat to my hedges where the only certain risk would be from Hellhound's dogs.
I felt in my costume's backpack, running fingers along the half-dozen twists of paper, thick with pepper. I was not equipped to fight something that big, fast, and mean. But however big they got, they were still dogs, and could still be left sneezing.
Hopefully.
Better than nothing, anyway.
Certainly better than having to plan contingencies against whatever Regent did, when he had a profile so low he wasn't even showing up on the wiki.
I stood, forcing my hands down by my sides. They were coming as friends. This kind of preparation was really just procrastination. I already had perfectly adequate plans to address them socially even if she brought her friends. I would greet them, ask them if they liked tea, and bring out tea, honey, and toast. Things would go just fine. Better, even, for my newfound experience as a hostess.
Probably.
And if they didn't, I had a plan for that too.
An ambulance nosed into the driveway, and I felt my eyebrows rise behind the mask. Really?
From its back spilled three familiar costumes and a half dozen dogs (all normal looking), and the tall black driver could only be Grue — James, as he'd introduced himself.
Once more I gestured to the table, once more asked how my guests felt about tea, once more received a ragged chorus permitting my safe withdrawal.
Dealing with people really wasn't so bad, if you were prepared.
Or had an employee do it. That was what had made the conference with Armsmaster and Director Piggot go as smoothly as it had.
Would it have been awkward to have my lawyer host the tea-parties?
While I was inside, bustling, Hellhound grunted and walked toward the table while Regent gravitated to one of the rocking chairs. James and Lisa stood on the porch, taking in the view of the night skyline of Brockton Bay and looking at the stars in the moonless sky.
I emerged, with toast and the makings of tea, and the standing pair joined me at the table.
Lisa opted for hot chocolate, but declined the offer of tiny marshmallows. James opted for a black broadleaf variety that didn't actually taste like oranges, no matter what the label said.
Regent, from his rocking chair, waved his scepter and announced "Some green tea, if you have it."
James and Lisa both took their attention from their brewing long enough to glare at him, and he shrugged with a smile — "Couldn't hurt to ask, could it?" — before rising and joining the rest of us at the table.
I paused to contemplate the tableaux: James, dressed in a crisp EMT uniform with the collar starched and trouser creases sharp enough to shave with, looked like he'd just stepped off a recruiting poster. Even his posture fit: while waiting for the bag to steep, he was standing in what I thought was called parade rest in the military, the fabric drawn tight around his muscular chest and arms. His interpretation of the role he was playing? Or a hint at his approach to life?
Lisa carried herself entirely differently while in costume. It wasn't just having the having the hair down, much as that did to reframe her face. This close, I could make out the subtle use of makeup to sharpen her cheekbones and jawline, and enhance the effect her domino mask had on her eyes. Her posture, too, had changed. She looked intensely alert, full of nervous energy, but not high-strung — just relentlessly inquisitive, sly, and knowing.
Regent ("Anyone who feeds me gets to call me Alec.") made hot chocolate as well, with the little marshmallows. He was slender, with artfully tousled black curls framing a pale face which seemed to have two expressions: bored, and the left end of his mouth turning up in a half-smile. The billowy white shirt he wore, the implausibly tight pants, and the stylized white carnival mask made me wonder if he'd designed his costume by going through romance novel covers. If he had, I was pretty sure there was a joke involved: he didn't seem the type to unironically announce himself as a heartthrob.
Rachel (Lisa's explanation that 'Bitch' or 'Rachel' was vastly preferable to 'Hellhound' had been my first glimpse of Regent's half-smile) was large and muscular. Her features were blunt and her dress plain, and her words so far had been just the same. The dogs surrounded her, obviously devoted to her, and she spent the bulk of her time and attention on keeping them in order. Having tasted the toast and honey herself, she was now feeding her dogs little treats from her pockets, going through them in order, with occasional pauses when one of the less disciplined dogs tried to leap up, or cut in line, or beg. Sometimes she'd simply say 'No' or 'Bad'; other times she'd signal the scarred dog that seemed to be her favorite and he'd snarl or snap. Either way, order would reassert itself, and, after a long pause to see if the lesson had taken, she'd go on.
The toaster dinged, and I brought out a new plate of toast.
Most of them had settled in around the table, though Regent returned to his rocking chair.
James broke the silence, speaking over his steaming cup. "Nice place."
I nodded. "A good banker and a good lawyer can do a lot, with money."
"No foster care issues?"
I shook my head. "I have a good lawyer."
He nodded, and took a sip.
"Expensive?"
I waggled a hand. "Not cheap. But I hit an ABB stash house, and then there are some ways I can get paid for using my power, legally, that I'd never have thought of... he's paid for himself several times over."
He nodded again, and arched an eyebrow at Lisa.
She raised both hands, made a gesture as if weighing a scale with indeterminate results.
I looked back and forth between them.
"Do you want an introduction?"
A long pause, while he all but emptied his cup, and then held it, letting it warm his hands.
He refilled it, and spoke while it steeped. "Maybe later. I think I'd rather avoid coming to the official notice of the authorities in my unmasked capacity, if possible."
I nodded. "Risky line of work."
He nodded, dark eyes distant and deep. "Some things are worth the risk."
I didn't have anything to say that. Partly because there wasn't much, and partly because I hadn't had a conversation that long with a handsome boy my age in... well, years. Certainly not since before I'd started noticing boys. And their eyes. Or the way their muscles bunched under a shirt.
Combine that with Alec's prettyboy costume, and I had to wonder if Lisa had been picking teammates for the eye candy. I glanced at her, and met a knowing grin and and headshake, before she spoke.
"There are lots of reasons I could offer for joining up. And what you've pulled off is ample reason to ask if you'd like to..."
Rachel looked up from her dogs, staring at me, while Lisa continued.
"But you're not going to, are you?"
I shook my head.
"I owe you guys for that fight with Lung. For coming through for me in the cemetery. And I wanted to say thanks, to acknowledge that debt. But... I think we've got different priorities."
James stepped in, voice smooth. "The gangs."
I nodded. "You can't tell me you wouldn't be glad to see Empire Eighty Eight dissolve completely."
He laughed, a short sharp bark that momentarily pulled the dogs' attention away from Rachel.
"No. War with them is a bad risk, if avoidable... that's the only reason not to pick a fight. They're scum."
Lisa chimed in, firm and musical "They give villains a bad name."
Alec's voice was light. "I hate Illinois Nazis." A beat. "And the ones here too, I suppose."
Rachel spoke to a human for the first time that night. "They run dogfighting rings."
We all stared at her briefly.
I nodded. "Empire Eighty Eight isn't the only gang in town, but they're at the top of my list right now. I'd hoped the death of Kaiser would be enough..."
Lisa blinked twice, rapidly. "That was you?"
I shook my head. Paused. "Maybe. A little. Mostly, I just made sure Kaiser and Lung knew how to find each other."
A long, low whistle rose from the rocking chair in the background, until cut off by a glare from James.
Alec shrugged, elaborately, the very picture of accused innocence. The glare continued.
I shook my head, and spoke. "This fragmented civil war just makes things... tricky. Since they're no friends of yours, I was wondering if you could give me a rundown..."
Lisa and James glanced at each other, and he nodded.
She spoke. "Right now, you've got at least three factions in play. Hookwolf's Chosen, or Fenrir's Chosen, as they sometimes call themselves. He's backed by Stormtiger and Cricket, and a large number of the more violent enforcers. You've got Krieg's Regency, with Night, Fog, and Fenja, and a smaller number of better organized enforcers. And then there's the Pure, led by Purity, as you might expect... but she's only got Crusader with her so far. Victor, Othala, and Rune are staying out of the fight for now, and probably have an outright majority of the unpowered skinheads with them, but haven't declared as an independent faction either. So far they've gotten away with it since everyone needs access to healing, and no one wants the organization to be destroyed in the crossfire. Most of the fighting is really between Krieg's group and Hookwolf's, until the Protectorate shows up. So far, that's been the cue for both sides to kiss, make up, and bond over fighting the heroes. Purity's been running a private crusade against the Merchants, which makes for some spectacular lightshows... but, since they'd rather run, not any real fights. She has kept them from keeping any of the E88 territory they tried to take, but that's about it."
I nodded, turning plans over in my mind.
"Regency implies an heir."
Lisa shrugged. "Unless Regent's been secretly running an E88 faction —"
"Too much like work."
"— then yes. But I don't exactly have a detailed family tree for the descendants of Allfather, and it might just be that Krieg hasn't decided — or been told by Gesellschaft — whether or not he'll take power in his own name."
I nodded again, and looked into my own teacup for a time.
James stood. "Good luck with this mess. If it doesn't get cleaned up soon, there's likely to be an escalation. Either from the heroes' side... or ours."
I looked up, met his gaze. "Yours?"
"A couple of the players are calling for a council. Truce-rules: nobody starts anything, or everybody finishes them. Maybe make the different E88 factions talk it out." He grinned. "Maybe agree to make them just... go away." The grin faded. "This kind of noise is bad for business. For everyone. Nobody wants the Protectorate to come in here with thirty or forty heroes, spearheaded by the Triumvirate."
I nodded thoughtfully.
He waved toward the ambulance, and the Undersiders all stood. I stood with them.
"Look, we've got some business of our own to be about tonight. And if you were joining up, you'd be welcome along. But since you're not, do you mind putting off going to war until tomorrow? We prefer to work smooth — no one knows we were there until we're long gone."
Alec idly drawled "And you seem to like things rough," prompting a glare from Lisa and a face-palm from James. Unapologetic, he continued. "I'm just saying… this used to be such a quiet town. You know. Before."
I blinked.
James stood straight, and continued without so much as turning his head toward Alec. "I can't discuss details, of course. But the target's no friend of yours — nothing to burden your conscience over."
I nodded. Empire Eighty Eight, then. An easy favor for me to grant, considering.
"Good hunting."
Rachel hung back a moment, walked until we were face to face. Well, face to mask.
"You provided treats that dogs could eat."
I blinked behind my mask. Bread and honey? Which she hadn't even fed them?
"Yes."
She looked at me for a time, then turned and walked away, whistling for her dogs to follow her into the ambulance.
With that, James started the ambulance and drove away.
I made myself a cup of tea, and looked up at the stars.
A week ago tonight, Lung and Kaiser had fought at my instigation.
I had interfered. Helped tip the balance against Kaiser; ensured Oni Lee would not live to fight another day. The civil war within the Empire was, in a very real way, my responsibility.
It hadn't brought the results I wanted.
Yet.
The Empire held no less territory, counted no fewer street-level members, did no less harm than before.
If at first you don't succeed…
It would mean taking some of my attention off of Coil. Even though I still wasn't sure what Coil was up to, what kind of game he was playing. I wasn't even sure which side he was playing for! But there would be time to address that afterward. I wouldn't forget about him, but for now… letting the Empire bleed itself out wasn't working. Time to change strategies, then.
I sighed.
It had been a quiet week.
From the very first time I met Lung, fought him, and lost but for the interventions of the Undersiders and Armsmaster, there had been nine days of constant surveillance and combat, with two days of coma interspersed. That week of determination and occasional terror had gutted the ABB, and started the civil war within E88. Not wasted effort, any of it.
Just… not enough, either, to make the necessary difference.
Seven days since of relative peace, haggling with the PRT, and building the foundations of a new life. Fragile foundations, still. Easily destroyed. I knew that I could lose it all in a single moment.
My old life was evidence enough of that.
I looked around, seeing the farm through my insects where my eyes could not make it out through the gloom. This was a nice place. A place I could come to call home.
Tomorrow I would join the battle once more.
Tonight… tonight I'd drink another cup of tea, and watch the stars in peace.