I hadn't slept well, and when I woke to the sound of my alarm I just lay there for minutes.
I felt guilty, and worse: ineffectual.
I set my insects to work, of course, but I didn't really feel like moving. Even for a hot shower, and that usually helped me shrug off anything. It would definitely make me feel better about all the bruises I'd picked up last night: the black eye was the most spectacular, but I was pretty sure I had a deep bruise on one of my thighs. And my kidneys hurt again. More than the physical pain, though, I was worried about whether there was a way to drive the gangs out without massive collateral damage.
Last night, I'd made a mistake — again — and it had come with a cost.
Again.
Bunker fuel — fuel generally — doesn't explode. It burns.
Something I'd failed to understand in time.
There'd been an initial boom, as the fireball from the fumes and the first flame burnt off, and few seconds of creaking, cracking, snapping noises as the structure collapsed. Possibly that was when Victor's explosives went off. After that, there had been a horror show: thick black gunk, on fire, flooding the streets for blocks around, and then a surge as the other bunkers released their contents.
The resulting fire was, technically, still going on.
There had been a lot of fuel left in there when the port was shut down, uneconomical to transport except by tanker ship… and with the approaches to the docks choked off by that container ship the protesters had sunk in place, no way to get something so large in. Abandoned in place, like so much else in or around the docks.
People included.
Maybe Victor had had plans for a balanced fuel air mixture, or maybe he'd thought that immersing Lung in a sea of sticky burning sludge was a better bet than a single massive explosion.
Maybe he hadn't known enough about what he was doing, either. The fact that he could have any skill he wanted didn't mean he knew how to use them well… and I was willing to bet he hadn't been able to find someone with experience in turning a fuel bunkerage into an improvised explosive.
It didn't change the result.
The Ship's Graveyard now had an onshore counterpart. The media was still settling on what to call it, but it looked like the leading candidate was the Scar.
Lung hadn't been seen since, alive or dead but — particularly with the fire still going — that didn't really mean anything.
This was already being called the biggest non-Endbringer fire in a U.S. city since the Texas City disaster. Casualties had been much lower, thankfully. The area within my power was nearly empty, and quick reactions and distance had been enough to save many. Not all. And the property damage was off the scale. Almost two square miles, burning. It would have been worse if the bay hadn't bounded it on the east, absorbed a lot of the spilling bunker fuel.
That did mean that a sizable chunk of the bay was on fire right now, but there wasn't the same fear of it spreading.
The initial rush had been terrifyingly fast… but the compound was large and I'd been blocks away from the chain-link fence surrounding it. All in all, it had taken just over a minute for the flow to reach where I'd parked. I'd had about one hundred and fifty yards to go when the fireball went up, and I'd never run faster in my life. Once out on the road, well… it made for an unforgettable image in my mirrors, but it wasn't fast enough to catch the Vespa.
I was pretty sure most of E88 had gotten out.
Hookwolf could laugh something like that off, and one of the last things I'd seen from my swarms at the intersection before pulling out of range at maximum speed was Fenja, at her full height, wading through chest-deep burning fuel with her hands above her head, tiny figures cradled high and out from harm. It had been a scene right out of Ragnarok, after Surtr sets the earth aflame.
Trainwreck — I'd looked him up, after getting home — had gotten away well in advance.
Victor… I had no idea. He'd set it up. He must have had contingencies. He still would have been very close to the blast, and to the flood that followed.
Cricket never had a chance.
Was it something I could have stopped? I thought about recognizing Victor earlier, going for him from the start… but no.
Could I have mitigated it? Vista and Clockblocker were getting some major press for their efforts establishing barriers, checking the flow, and Aegis, Browbeat, and Gallant had gotten coverage for their search and rescue efforts: Gallant finding trapped survivors, Aegis and Browbeat doing the heavy lifting.
Maybe I could have helped with search and rescue — the search part of it anyway. I hadn't thought of it.
At the time, the area around the bunkerage had been clear, and I hadn't dreamt that it would spread like that.
Next time I'd have to do better.
The only sure way I could see to have prevented this would have been to keep Lung out of the trap… and I'd rather see him dead, if I could manage it. Bakuda had done what she'd done to please him.
I hadn't forgotten, and I wouldn't forgive.
In the long run, the only way to prevent something like this… would have been to kill Lung or break the Empire faster. Was this the necessary price? Would it be worth it?
I thought about the kind of harm the gangs had done. The outright assaults. The drugs. The kids, some of whom I'd known, forced into service. The way whole sections of the city were abandoned, written off as unsafe. I thought about weighing all that up against the kind of violence that was bubbling up once the status quo had been disturbed.
But, ultimately, that wasn't what drove me.
The status quo had been the choice of the gangs.
And they didn't get to win.
I'd try and prepare better for next time, to get this done more quickly, and more cleanly, but the goal remained: drive the gangs from Brockton Bay.
And that meant getting up, even if I hurt, even if I didn't want to do it.
So I did.
···---···
Coffee didn't help much.
I ate an omelette, not because I was hungry, but because I knew I needed the fuel. Chewing hurt. Then again, sitting hurt.
I sat at what was becoming 'my' table and brooded.
Blocks away and underground, Coil was starting his workday.
He'd positioned a screen over by Dinah sometime since I'd been there last, and when he walked in the door he went straight to her.
"Good morning pet. Chance of problems by lunchtime?"
She blinked, and covered her eyes against the overhead lighting.
"Chance of problems by lunchtime?" His voice sharpened.
"One point five zero eight percent."
He nodded.
"Then let's begin again."
He fiddled with some kind of hand-held control, and the screen brightened.
"Major thinkers or precogs: Accord. Appraiser. Astrologer…"
It was a pretty long list. Some of the names I recognized, most I didn't.
"Chance that any of these is acting against me?"
"Five point seven six percent."
He sighed, and fiddled with his controls again.
"Individual S-Class threats: Behemoth, Leviathan, Simurgh, Nilbog, Sleeper, Eidolon, Scion."
Eidolon? Scion?
I guess from his perspective, they were as dangerous as it got.
"Chance that any of these is acting against me?"
"Most of these I can't see. Can't see them anywhere."
He nodded.
"The ones you can see."
"Zero point seven nine six percent."
"Collective major threats: the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Three Blasphemies, the Yangban."
"Chance that…"
She interrupted him.
"He's the one."
More clicking, and the screen flickered once, and then again, before Dinah nodded.
"He's the one who ends it."
"Ends what?"
"Everything. Everyone, everywhere — almost. One hundred percent chance, if he lives."
What?
"When?" Coil's voice was low and urgent.
"Two years, ten… it changes."
"If he's dead first?"
"It still happens, but… later."
Not the answer I'd been hoping for.
"If he's captive?"
Coil didn't believe in giving up. Under the circumstances, I was grateful.
"Still happens. Twelve years."
Coil turned and paced.
"Fine. Second priority on Jack. First… on living long enough to worry about the apocalypse."
"Chance of any of these is acting against me?"
"Two point five one five percent."
He sighed.
"It hurts."
"One last question, pet. Chance I survive attending the truce meeting at Somer's Rock?"
I blinked. So James had been right — there would be a truce meeting. And Coil would be out of his base. The timing fit, if I could just…
"Three point four repeating percent."
He shook his head.
"Candy?"
"Soon, pet. Soon."
He left her room and returned to his office. Picking up the phone, he called for Mr. Pitter and for his captains again.
This time, he stopped to talk with 'Pitter'.
"No symptoms you can detect?"
"None, sir." Pitter was thin and stoop-shouldered, but his eyes and voice were firm as he answered.
"When can she have a full workup conducted?"
"Not sooner than Saturday, sir. Some of the equipment we'd want is heavily booked." A pause. "I could force a rescheduling, but you'd said…"
"Discretion above all. I remember. Saturday will just have to be soon enough. Watch her. Watch her closely."
With that, he strode out to see his captains.
The meeting was disappointingly brief.
"Captains — retain your squads at full defensive readiness. A Thinker new to Brockton Bay has targeted us: accordingly, we must present minimal openings. Operations more broadly go well: the Merchants have been extinguished, and the Empire has yet to reunify. We will await our chance. As you were."
I stayed, but the only useful thing I got from the rest of the morning was confirming that he had his lunch brought at noon precisely — just like yesterday.
···---···
The afternoon sunlight glanced off the windows of a low-slung office building on the southern fringes of Downtown.
I squared my shoulders and walked in.
The receptionist sent me to a conference room, and I looked it over, comparing it to the only other one I'd seen recently.
Not quite as sleek, but still nice. A little more worn. A scuff at the corner of the table; a scar where the door had been opened too forcefully. A selection of drinks, and a selection of pastries laid out. Legal pads. Pens. The view was of the hillside sloping away, and the city beyond it. Nice, but not equal to the high-rise view of the bay.
I took a water, a pad and a pen, and sat down. I'd thought about sitting facing the door, but with my power I could tell when someone was coming anyway. Instead, I chose to look at the view.
A tall woman, blonde, well dressed in a pantsuit and self-assured, entered the room and shut the door.
"Ms. Hebert."
Her handshake was firm, her eyes steady.
I resumed my seat, and she took the one opposite me, laid out a pad and pens, and looked at me.
"I confess, the prospect of a referral from Quinn Calle is… puzzling. I spend too much of my time on my other activities to be the best lawyer I could be. It's true that I'm local, and there are times that's of use. He said only that you'd explain." A tightening around her eyes. "And I can certainly understand a desire for confidentiality, given your history."
I nodded.
"Mrs. Dallon, I'm not actually here for your services as a lawyer…"
"Then you've abused my trust." Her voice was firm, her brow furrowed.
"Please. Do you know Dinah Alcott?"
She paused, halfway up to standing, and sat back down.
"I know the Alcotts to say hello to. Nothing more. I know she's missing."
"Kidnapped, held, drugged… and to be moved Saturday." I placed my palms flat on the table before me, the legal pad between them, and smiled as calmly as I could.
"So why go through this rigamarole? An appointment under a false name, the real one told to me in a personal visit by your lawyer…"
"The man who holds her has infiltrated the PRT."
That rocked her back. Literally: the chair she was sitting on tilted back a moment.
"What?"
"Coil is Thomas Calvert. And he is a Thinker of some real power. He has arranged for an extra Endbringer shelter beneath the Heritage Insurance Tower, and filled it with armed mercenaries."
She blinked, rapidly.
"I've met him — you…"
"Please."
She paused, gathering herself.
"I'll need to know details. Like the source of your information…"
"Personal inspection."
That stopped her cold, and she eyed me again.
"You work for him?"
I blinked. Shook my head.
"No. My power…"
She nodded.
"A Stranger, then. And a strong one."
I shrugged. Not so far from the truth, some ways. And Cricket had taught me a painful lesson on the value of keeping your powers hidden. Not that I had other powers, but I might keep people looking for a different power than the one I did.
"I owe your daughter a debt. I'm not sure taking her family into Coil's lair is the right response…"
"… but you can't see another choice."
"No."
She bowed her head for a moment, then brought it up. Her eyes were as steady as before, but a new intensity danced in them.
"We'll have to plan this out."
···---···
The internet had helpfully provided a listing for Somer's Rock, a bar in a run-down part of the Docks.
Far enough away from the actual docks that it wasn't on fire.
I found another bar, walked in, and took a table. The food didn't look to be fantastic, but it would be hot… and filling.
I looked to be a third of the average age, and nearly the only female. I felt a little nervous about it until the broadest of the men, a man with a beard wider than my shoulders spent an uncomfortable ten seconds staring at me, before turning away and speaking in a voice like distant thunder. Whatever he said rippled through the crowd, and they left me to myself.
Did he know me?
Did I know him?
I set the thought aside, and ordered a shepherd's pie, my mind a block and a half away, in almost totally deserted and even seedier bar, where several tables had been pushed together to form a single large one.
Krieg and Hookwolf were already there, sitting next to each other. Had they made up? I gathered more insects, and listened in.
"It's not her style, and not her power." Hookwolf sprawled in a chair as if he owned the bar, comfortable in a way I'd never seen him.
Krieg's hat was tall enough that it should have looked ridiculous — the whole leather-and-skulls Nazi motif should have — but he pulled it off.
"You know she can control the direction of her lasers, the kinetic force they transfer."
I thought back to my first encounter with Purity, when she'd cracked concrete without cracking spines.
"What you do not know is that the Kaiser was considering taking custody of their child, at last."
I blinked. Purity had a child with Kaiser? No wonder she had issues with fighting Empire Eighty Eight.
And they were just discussing this in the open?
Hookwolf was nodding slowly when the waitress came by with a pad on which they scrawled orders — beer, in both cases. Was she deaf? That would explain their comfort in just talking.
"Not that the beer here will be worthy of the name." Krieg's voice was light.
Hookwolf snorted.
Their discussion turned to some longstanding argument over Krieg's beer snobbery while I thought furiously. Purity, taking the blame for Kaiser's death? Because, in part, she couldn't point to her 'source' for information?
I owed her for her help with Bakuda. And I owed her a chance to go straight — or at least vigilante. On the other hand, even in costume, walking into that meeting was… well, risky was the politest way to put it.
Stupid would have been accurate too.
I turned options over in my mind.
My bugs on the roof picked up a rapidly falling star. Well, there goes the attempt to keep her out. Which might have only made things worse in the end anyway.
Purity walked through the door without a hitch in her stride and took her own seat, head inclining to the other two.
Behind her came the Undersiders — Grue took a seat at the table while the others filed off toward a corner booth.
A colorful group — literally, in the case of the man with bright orange skin and a tail — was next. Faultline's crew, I thought. The woman herself paused to look at Tattletale before taking a seat at the table; her associates took another booth.
Behind them came Coil, alone and without backup, who promptly took a seat at the table. I felt through the neighbourhood: no snipers on rooftops, no vans filled with mercenaries.
I blinked.
That made no sense.
Absently, I turned and thanked the waitress handing me dinner while I thought. I had heard that prediction myself. If he came to this meeting, he had a 96%+ chance of dying! He might think that something was off with Dinah's predictions, but this was still an extraordinary risk to take. What kind of power did he have, to do this? Was 'he' a body double? I gathered swarms all about the building, thought about ambushing 'him' as he exited, thought of the afternoon's planning… and decided to wait.
A troupe of strangers came next. Fancy costumes, professional looking. The four-armed hairless gorilla walking with them drew the most attention, and I felt an idea niggling at me, but I focused my attention on their leader in mask, top hat, and formalwear. I'd seen it before once, on a mannequin. He introduced himself as 'Trickster', claimed he was visiting, and took a seat at the main table… but all I could think was four more capes who serve Coil.
Fuck.
Well, that answered the question of where his backup was… if that even were 'him.'
At this point I was betting body double and some kind of reverse trap to find out who was after him.
I chewed mechanically while I thought. Four? Was he already beginning his recruiting? Was an assault on his base only going to end in more destruction? While I was focusing on how, exactly, I was going to deal with the growing Coil empire, my bugs alerted me to another arrival.
Lung.
He walked through the door and stood there a moment, smiling — or maybe baring his teeth — while every conversation stopped dead.
He looked awful, with no hair, burn scars all over and blisters which occasionally popped to ooze a clear fluid. On the other hand, for someone who'd been dropped into a sea of fuel which had then been set on fire, he looked… alive.
He locked gazes with Krieg, still smiling, and tilted his head slightly to the left. Then he walked straight to the other end of the table and sat there, lounging magnificently.
Coil was the first to speak. "Now that we're all here…"
I knew my cue.
I took all the swarms I'd massed around the building when I'd been thinking of trying for Coil, clumped them together into something vaguely humanoid, and shuffled through the door.
The reactions were mostly surprise.
Krieg steepled his hands and spoke. "The use of one's powers on truce-ground is a breach."
The words hung there a moment.
'I' shrugged, and spoke with a chorus of chittering buzzes. "The gorilla-ish one and the orange one are permitted."
At that, his head tilted slightly, and glances were exchanged among all those already at the table. He nodded, and the tension lessened… and then ramped up again as I moved toward the last seat at the main table, between Faultline and Purity.
Hookwolf slammed a fist down on the table. "This is the big boy's table. Take a booth."
I rotated the swarm slightly to face him, setting up a counterrotation within the body. "Lung will vouch for me."
At that, he coughed. A strangled laugh? Choking in surprise?
"The first time we fought, I took his manhood. The second, the hand he'd use to touch it."
Lung's smile was growing real now. He flexed his right hand, turned it to inspect his fingernails.
"I heal."
"Or ask Bakuda or Oni Lee. If you can get Glaistig Uaine out of the Birdcage to ask them for you."
Lung's eyes glittered as he rumbled "Or Kaiser."
I'd just as soon keep the Empire focused on Lung for that, rather than blaming me… or Purity.
The column of bugs dipped in what I hoped looked like a nod.
"I told you where to find Kaiser, just as I told Purity where the Empire could find you."
"Because you thought you couldn't beat me." His smile was vicious and playful.
"You're hard to kill." I tried for a shrug. "So far."
"I will kill you." His voice caressed every word.
"Not here, and not tonight."
He snorted, but tossed his head upward in agreement.
Again I moved my swarm toward the chair, and this time no one objected. James' advice about rep had held true, as had Quinn's advice about disrupting expectations. Undersiders aside, the only ones who even knew I existed were Lung and Purity… and with Lung confirming my fights with him — and kills — that ignorance only magnified my reputation.
Living up to it would be a challenge, if I had to keep this up for any length of time… but so far so good. With luck, the revelation that she did indeed have a source who wasn't Lung should keep Krieg and Hookwolf from targeting Purity. And Lung, with his openly murderous intentions toward me might have discouraged them from fingering me as the mysterious help Lung had had in his fight with Kaiser.
Maybe.
At least if they went looking for me, they'd be looking for someone with an insect body, or possibly a Changer.
Possibly.
Besides, when you got right down to it, I had contributed directly to Kaiser's death. Better that the consequences fall on me than Purity, particularly since there was a child involved.
Coil's voice rose again. "If that's everyone? The topic for tonight is publicity. This much is bad news… for everyone."
Nods all around the table.
"The worst offenders have been the ABB… though I understand we have the Empire to thank for last night's fire? Krieg?"
Krieg smiled easily. "Lung is indeed a difficult beast to kill, Herr Coil. You will understand that we must keep trying, yes?"
Lung snorted.
"But must you try so dramatically?"
Faultline chimed in. "It causes problems for all of us. And…" a jerk of her head toward Lung's end of the table "it didn't work."
"Frau Faultline, you speak truth. And we will indeed endeavour to keep it quieter on our next attempt." He spread his hands. "There. Is there any further business?"
Coil's voice was calm, even if his words weren't. "Krieg, you cannot think that dismissing the problem so quickly will solve anything. Nor, with your internal disputes, can you afford to face the rest of us, if it comes to that."
"No? Hookwolf and I have resolved our differences." Hookwolf, grinning in a near snarl, clapped Krieg on the back hard enough that he paused to readjust his glasses.
"And with the, ah, eradication of the Merchants last night, I believe Purity is free to look for new targets."
Silent still, she took a moment and then nodded.
"And Frau Faultline will not wage war for free, yes?"
Her voice was warm. "As long as you don't make peace more expensive still, Herr Krieg."
Krieg clapped his hands. "So! Herr Coil, you stand alone in this, if stand for this you still do. Unless our guest, or newer members would like to weigh in?"
Trickster, feet on the table, spoke "I'm just here to get a sense of the city. No reason to pick a fight, either way. Quiet would be nice, though."
Grue, voice echoing impossibly through his power, followed up. "Less heat would be better all round. But I won't go to war alone."
'I' shook 'my' head.
"Then I believe our business for the night is done, yes?"
Coil couldn't — or perhaps simply wouldn't — push it further. He nodded.
Faultline stood, and as she passed behind 'me' I felt a small card slipped into the swarm.
Something for later.
No disaster. No fight. And no one had even attacked Coil, either, which had me thinking about those predictions.
But for now… for now I'd call surviving that a night, and go to bed early.
After all, I had a big day planned for tomorrow.