At first glance, it was an ordinary, unassuming conference room, the same sort of ordinary, unassuming conference room that existed in any office building of any company that was large enough and upscale enough to properly own the name. The polished wooden table that sat in the center, rectangular and taking up much of the room, was ordinary. The plush chairs that sat around it, comfortable but not necessarily lavish, were ordinary as well. The walls were painted a boring, ordinary cream color, just a shade or two shy of white enough that the whole room felt closer to comfy than sterile. The windows showed outside an ordinary image of the city’s skyline, bathed in the morning sun.
For all intents and purposes, it could have belonged to any business in the city. It was so middling and ordinary that there must have been a hundred others that looked just like it in Brockton Bay alone, to say nothing of economic giants like New York City or Sacramento.
Only on closer inspection, under a keen-eyed scrutiny, would the facade have begun to show. One might begin to see the hidden panels in the sturdy table, secreting away such things as monitors and weapons caches, and the way its unusual thickness hid the reinforced steel plate at its core. Or perhaps a more discerning observer might instead see that the chairs had a thick, steel backing and were just tall enough to block the average man’s head from behind. Or just such a person might even have realized that the windows were several inches thick themselves, designed specifically to block even high caliber munitions.
Only someone paying particularly close attention from beginning to end would have noticed that the interior walls jutted into the room further than they should have and have come to the correct conclusion that these too were reinforced.
On the surface, it was a conference room, but this was only a veneer, a ruse, to make the unsuspecting believe that this was an ordinary office building. In truth, it was a bunker, sturdy enough to survive a great many threats that might seek to do its occupants harm. It was only the realities of cost and the need to remain inconspicuous that had prevented the entire building from being constructed the same way.
The supervillain known as Coil could not afford to run the risk of being discovered. Not after coming so far.
The clock hanging from one wall ticked incessantly. The hands moved, and the hour stretched slowly towards noon. The conference room remained empty for yet a while longer.
Coil, of course, was the first to arrive, sliding in through the door with serpentine grace and dressed in a skintight black bodysuit that hugged every line and curve and most certainly didn’t belong in a boring office conference room. The white pattern evoking a winding serpent that wrapped around the torso and over the head was even more egregious, but Coil paid no attention to this affront to normalcy and slithered into the chair at the middle of the table, not to either end. Conveniently, the back of the chair faced the window, so that any assailant would hit the window itself and the chair long before hitting Coil’s head.
Tinkertech weaponry might be enough to make it through even these precautions, but… Well. Coil had already eliminated the threat of any such Tinker in Brockton Bay, either through coercion or more…permanent means, and no Tinker could enter the city without Coil finding out the instant they crossed into the city limits.
It was easy to be sure of your position when that position had been secured so thoroughly.
Seated as comfortably as the chair would allow, Coil pressed a button hidden in the table, and the surface of the wood slid open to reveal a large screen that flickered to life and showed a variety of things. Security recordings from throughout the city, graphs of economic developments belonging to businesses native to Brockton Bay, documents of police reports and open investigations, all of it things Coil had no right or legitimate reason to have.
With the swipe of a single slender finger, Coil set about investigating this data, perusing it lazily and leisurely for things of interest. For a while longer, the only sound in the room remained the ticking of the wall clock, occasionally interrupted by the squeak of a glove on glass when Coil got a little too curious about something on the monitor.
Eventually, however, others came and joined the room, taking seats around the table. The first was an austere young woman with pale skin and pale blonde hair, her eyes a piercing silvery gray. She, too, dressed strangely for a conference room in the middle of Brockton Bay, with an abbreviated, sleeveless kimono worn underneath an almost turquoise overcoat and a long, black scarf. She carried a katana openly, as though completely unconcerned with its associations to certain criminal organizations.
“Master,” the young woman greeted, bowing stiffly and formally.
Coil’s voice was almost a pur. “Okita.”
The so-named Okita rose from her bow and set herself into a chair. She propped her sword up against the high back so that the hilt jutted past her ear and the pommel rested in the padding, holding the lacquered sheath with one hand. It was not as convenient, perhaps, as simply setting her sword down upon the floor, nor as easy to work with as wearing it upon her hip, but if anyone thought that it would have much effect at all on the speed of her draw, then they were a fool.
There were few who matched Okita’s genius as a swordsman. Most of them had been her contemporaries, and were therefore over one-hundred years dead.
For several minutes longer, the silence stretched. No further words were exchanged between the two of them beyond that first greeting, and Coil had gone back to the reports and the data on the monitor.
Then, however, arrived another person, a dark-skinned young man, lean and handsome, with wavy hair the color of chocolate. His manner of dress was also peculiar and out of place, a white tunic of rich make that reached down to his ankles. Swirling purple patterns decorated the front, ornamented and elegant. His pants were the most normal part of his attire, pure white from belt to hem, perfectly pristine.
He carried no weapon with him, but neither of the other occupants had any doubt that his enormous bow could be manifested the instant the situation called for it. Neither was at all concerned that he might turn it against them.
“Master,” he greeted politely, formally, utterly lacking in the slightest bit of warmth or affection. It would not have been inaccurate to say he was greeting a superior instead of a friend, and it showed in his manner and bearing.
“Arjuna.”
The man called Arjuna swept down the table and eventually took a seat himself, posture rigid and poised, almost regal. He folded his hands in front of him on the table and stared straight ahead, unblinking, as he waited for the next person to arrive.
It was a few minutes later before the next person did arrive, a woman with long, strawberry blonde hair and eyes the color of honey. She was petite and carried a riding crop instead of some other, more sensible weapon, and she strode through dressed entirely in white like she had just come from a fashion show. A brilliant tiara sat atop her head, thin prongs prominent against her hair.
“Sorry I’m late,” she announced. She strutted in as though she owned the place. “I had a photoshoot that ran longer than expected, and poor Cú here just couldn’t help himself once he saw so much beauty in one place.”
She gestured carelessly to the hulking man who trailed behind her, a shirtless, musclebound figure whose skin burned with the heat of his blood, red and steaming, and he only acknowledged her words with a low, wordless grunt.
“As…riveting as your escapades are,” Coil said silkily, “I’m sure I speak for the rest of us when I say that we’ve no need to know what happens in the privacy of…wherever you were, Queen Medb.”
Queen Medb laughed, holding one hand to her mouth daintily. “Oh, I would never dare do something like that in public! Not so long as I have an image to maintain, at least!” She smiled, predatory and hungry. “Of course, you’ll be willing to foot the bill for the hotel room, won’t you, Master? I’m afraid we made an awful mess of things, so they might need to replace the bed…and maybe a table or two.”
“Your lack of self-control is disgusting,” Okita opined.
Queen Medb just favored her with a smug look. “Spoken as someone who hasn’t had the chance to enjoy a good romp between the sheets. I’m sure I could find someone for you if you asked, Okita. There’s one or two guys at the modeling agency who would give even someone as boring as you a wild ride if you offered.”
Okita’s lip curled, and her grip on the sheath of her sword tightened. If looks could kill, then Medb would have been dead already.
Again.
“As long as you weren’t too…adventurous, I’m sure it can be taken care of, Queen Medb,” said Coil. “Do not, however, take that as permission to run up as large a bill as you can. I’m willing to cater to your expensive tastes and cover any messes you might make, but there’s a limit to how much money I can afford to spend to accommodate you.”
“You know, I could find someone for you, too, Master,” said Medb slyly. “What’s to your liking, hm? Men? Women? Do you like them slender or muscular? Tall or short? Redhead, blonde? Or…perhaps you like slim, leggy brunettes?”
Coil’s head jerked as though slapped.
“That’s out of line!” Okita snarled, leaping to her feet.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Queen Medb said haughtily. “Our Master is the lynchpin to our entire side of this war we’re fighting; even someone that important has to let go and relax every now and again. Unwind, you know? Otherwise, they’ll wind up tied into so many little knots and drive themselves crazy.”
“Regardless of the validity of that statement, the vulgarity of your suggestion was unnecessary,” Arjuna said, flat and almost disinterested. The only obvious sign of disapproval was the slight downturn of his mouth, hidden behind his folded hands.
“Oh, come on, now.” Queen Medb shook her head. “Isn’t this supposed to be the twenty-first century? Isn’t this the most liberated and free country of this era? Women are finally able to completely control their destiny and all of that? What’s wrong with indulging in a little casual fun to blow off some steam? Trust me, it’s one of the best ways to spend an afternoon.” Leaning back against the chest of the red-skinned warrior behind her, she smirked and smugly added, “As long as you have a partner like my dear Cú, of course.”
Cú did not react much, not even when Queen Medb reached up to stroke sensually at his jawline with the tips of her fingers. Puffs of hot steam seethed out of the corners of his mouth. He might not say or do anything at all, in fact, unless one of the others was to attack him — or unless Queen Medb bent over the conference table and flipped up her skirt for him.
Even for Queen Medb, however, that was a bit too bold, at least amongst her present company. She had an image to maintain, if nothing else.
“Thank you, Queen Medb,” Coil said tersely, having finally regained the use of words. It cut off whatever a bristling Okita might have said instead. “But that won’t be necessary. If I ever have need of…company of that sort, I’m sure I can manage well enough on my own.”
Left unsaid was the admonition: I know what you were trying to do, and I won’t let it slide a second time.
Queen Medb clicked her tongue and shrugged, apparently unbothered. “It’s your loss, my dearest Master. I’m only trying to look out for your health, seeing as you’re the only one holding this whole thing together. We would be lost without you.”
And the truth of the matter was that, in her own way, Queen Medb wasn’t really lying. It didn’t mean that she had no designs on replacing Coil at the head of the entire venture — Coil had no illusions about her ambitions to take the top spot and be in control like the queen she had once been — but that even someone as conniving as Queen Medb could be sincere while she plotted your downfall.
Of course, that didn’t stop her from sliding a sly glance at Okita and adding, “Poor Okita might just fall on her own sword if something were to happen to you.”
Okita, who had just barely begun to calm, bristled once more. “You…!”
“That’s quite enough,” Coil said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I think it’s time we get to the purpose of this meeting, don’t you?”
“Without the others?” Queen Medb asked curiously.
“The others have their own tasks to take care of, and that’s why they’re not available at the moment,” Coil explained patiently. “They can be updated and debriefed — as needed — when they have the time.” A tilt of the head, filled with suggestion. “I’m sure Fionn would prefer it if we didn’t bother him while he’s in the middle of fighting the enemy’s Servants, especially considering who some of them are.”
Queen Medb made a noise of understanding in her throat. “I thought it was strange that this room was so empty despite my being late. Most of these Heroic Spirits aren’t the type to lag behind.” She cast a glance around the conference room, then smiled. “But I guess us five are the ones who shoulder the most weight, so it’s fine if we do everything without them.”
“Lord Ferdia might disagree,” Okita said tensely.
Queen Medb waved it off. “He’s a warrior of Connacht, so he’s going to follow my orders either way.”
“Master’s orders,” Arjuna rebuked sharply.
Once again, Queen Medb waved it off with a careless roll of her wrist. “Same thing. After all, Master and I were the first ones here to form a pact, weren’t we? And it’s my warriors that are fighting on the frontlines against our enemies, bleeding and dying for every inch of land we take and lose. That makes me the right hand woman in all of this — queen to Master’s king, if you want to put it that way.”
“And I will not dispute that,” Coil agreed easily. “But needlessly antagonizing each other accomplishes nothing, so I’d prefer it if we could move on and get to the point of the meeting.”
“By all means,” said Queen Medb, and she pulled out a chair, then dropped unceremoniously onto the seat and reclined, crossing her legs. Of course, it was Medb, so somehow or another, she managed to make even that look elegant and refined, only enhanced by the design of her dress.
“Then let’s begin,” said Coil. “I’d like to start with a reminder: tomorrow, the group Accord vouched for will be arriving to meet with us. He claimed that these Chaldean people are here to help with the retrieval of the Grail that the Westerners stole near Boston a few days ago, and that they are willing to help us on that front. They also have Servants of their own.”
Coil’s head turned towards Okita, and slowly, the others — aside from Cúchulainn — did as well. “I believe Okita has more information for us today.”
Okita hesitated, and then bowed her head contritely. “Forgive me, Master,” she said. “I encountered them last night exploring the city and believed their purposes might be nefarious, so I engaged them. I was not aware that they were the group we were intending to ally with tomorrow. The fault for any animosity they might possess towards us is mine.”
“Mistakes are only natural,” Coil said, voice almost a pur, like a cat that had sighted a mouse. “Of course, if you had accidentally managed to kill them, then that would have deprived us of what may turn out to be a very valuable ally.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Okita sincerely, and she sounded it. “Please accept my deepest apologies, Master. That was not my intention.”
“If Okita could kill them all that easily, then they wouldn’t have been worth recruiting in the first place,” Queen Medb drawled, disinterested.
“Although the way she said it leaves much to be desired, Queen Medb has a point,” said Arjuna. “If these Chaldeans could not handle themselves against Okita, then their worth as collaborators might not have been significant enough to worry.”
“A valid point,” Coil agreed. “Although Okita’s skill as a swordswoman is indeed incredible, Accord claims they have multiple Servants in their employ, so if they couldn’t hold their own even with a numbers advantage, then maybe it wouldn’t have been worth it to work with them. The fact that they’re still alive, however, tells us that we should at least hear them out, shouldn’t it?” Coil’s head turned towards Okita, whose expression was complicated. “Unless it wasn’t the Chaldeans who fought you to a standstill last night?”
It was phrased as a question, but it was more like a game. Coil already knew what Okita hadn’t yet said, and so the whole point became ensnaring Okita tighter by guilting her into admitting the truth.
Contrite, Okita closed her eyes and bowed her head again. “My apologies, Master, but it was not. Another foe presented himself last night, interfering before I could properly engage the Chaldean Servants in combat.”
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“I see,” said Coil, voice filled with false concern. “And who was this enemy who showed up to come to their defense? An ally of theirs, maybe?”
“I don’t know his reason,” Okita admitted. “He didn’t say very much at all, and what he did say, I think was meant to draw my attention specifically, so the truth of the matter is that it’s impossible to say why he was there. The Chaldeans didn’t seem to recognize him, at least, not until his true name was revealed, and they didn’t seem to be aware he was even there before he appeared. I can’t speak confidently about what he hoped to gain by showing up where and when he did, only that he had some interest in defending the Chaldeans.”
Coil hummed thoughtfully. “But you still learned his true name.”
“I didn’t need to, Master,” said Okita. “I recognized him on sight, because I knew him in life — if only from across the battlefield. The Ishin Shishi’s assassin, Kawakami Gensai.”
There was no reaction from the others. Of course not, because none of them knew who that was, not by name, and for as fearsome as his reputation might have been among the Japanese, to the wider world, he was obscure.
“Presuming he managed to fight evenly with you, his skill too must be worthy of praise,” said Arjuna, although he might have been commenting on the weather for how interested he sounded.
“Last night was the first chance we had to truly test one another’s skills,” said Okita. “However, he was just as fearsome as expected. When he retreated, I couldn’t follow.” To Coil, she added, “My apologies for my weakness, Master. If it was only caution, I might have followed anyway. However, the Chaldeans were still there, and my…illness struck then, so I was unable to give pursuit.”
Yes, the one disadvantage to fielding Okita, let alone as an enforcer — because of her Weak Constitution, she could be struck by a bout of vulnerability at any moment, rendered unable to properly defend herself or fight the enemy. Against capes and normal human gangs, it wasn’t much of a weakness at all.
Against Servants, it could be fatal.
“Understandable,” Coil said reasonably. “You did the right thing, Okita. Better for you to survive to report back to me than to die fighting an enemy who might just be a stray looking for answers.”
“He could be a spy,” Queen Medb pointed out. “Here to look for vulnerabilities, or maybe get a sneak peek at our new allies.”
“For the west, you mean,” said Coil. It wasn’t a question. “That’s certainly possible, too. I’m sure they must be curious, since one of theirs was injured by these Chaldeans of ours. Even if that Rider of theirs didn’t make it all the way back, I’m sure Karna took the Grail and made the rest of the journey himself.”
Arjuna’s eyes narrowed, but he stared straight ahead as his fingers clasped tighter, straining the fabric of his gloves.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, Master,” said Okita, “but the American Rider, the Chaldeans asked about him, too, and to my shame, I had to admit I didn’t know his true name. I would like to change that.”
Coil’s head tilted. “You mean you hadn’t figured it out.” Okita opened her mouth, but before she could ask, Coil continued, “Nevermind, I should have expected you wouldn’t know. I doubt his name made it into the Japanese history books, let alone early enough for you to have heard about him.”
“Now who’s torturing the poor girl?” Queen Medb said with a smirk, chuckling lowly.
“With a Noble Phantasm named Midnight Ride, dressed as a Colonial from America’s earliest days as a country, the answer is very obvious.” Coil ignored her completely. “The only Heroic Spirit he could possibly be is Paul Revere, famous for his midnight ride to warn the Massachusetts militia of the British regulars’ arrival and the route they would take. It’s a very well-known story in American history.”
“I see.” Okita’s brow furrowed. “A Heroic Spirit that young, with a legend that focuses so little on combat… Perhaps I misjudged his bravery, that he went to such lengths to retrieve the Grail despite Celtchar’s presence.”
“I’m certain Karna’s presence would have bolstered his confidence,” Arjuna said stiffly.
“If we’re lucky, the injury he got from the Chaldeans killed him,” Queen Medb drawled. “And if not, it will at least keep him out of the action for a little while — so to speak.”
“Yes,” said Coil, turning towards Okita again, “speaking of the Chaldeans — Okita, do you have anything to add about them?”
“Of course,” Okita answered. “I counted three Masters among them, as well as four Servants. Their classes weren’t revealed to me, but one carried a large shield and wore armor like a European knight, one dressed in a style of armor that appeared to be made of bronze instead of iron or steel in a style I didn’t recognize. One dressed in wool and leathers and carried a spear — maybe a Lancer. The last… He was strange. His clothing did not seem to come from any era of the past, and although his face had the look of one of my countrymen, his skin was too dark and his hair white. He wielded a pair of twin swords, I believe they’re called falchions.”
“The one with the spear has to be Aífe,” Queen Medb said immediately. Behind her, Cúchulainn twitched, but she didn’t seem to notice. Not that Coil could see, at any rate.
“Celtchar confirmed as much,” Coil agreed. His report had been lacking in finer details, but at least that much had made it through. “The others, however… Hm. Quite an eclectic bunch, aren’t they? A medieval knight from across the pond, a Celtic warrior queen from the Ulster Cycle, two unknowns, one of whom doesn’t seem to be wearing any armor at all, and yet carries a pair of swords.”
One such warrior queen was more than enough, Coil did not say out loud, although when it came to preference, one might have been easier to work with than the other. Less controversial amongst those who came from her same family of myths, at least, of which Coil commanded several, if it didn’t also lose their side access to an essentially inexhaustible army.
Perhaps that made it less surprising that there seemed to be so much variety amongst these Chaldeans, though. After all, Coil’s Servants also laid claim to an Archer said to be one of India’s greatest heroes and a one of the most talented swordsmen from the era of Japan’s civil war, to say nothing of those working in Boston under Accord.
The answers weren’t going to present themselves regardless. It wasn’t nearly enough information to go off of to start guessing true names or classes, so Coil changed focus and asked, “And the Masters? What did you find out about them?”
“Two of them were Japanese,” Okita answered. “A boy and a girl, late teens. The boy had dark hair and blue eyes, the girl red hair and brown eyes, maybe some European ancestry. From their familiarity with each other, either lovers or siblings. The third was older by a few years, a tall woman, slender, dark hair, glasses, green eyes. From her accent, she was American, although the other two spoke English fluently and naturally as well.”
Coil went very still, body freezing up as though someone had pressed pause on a video. Okita, oblivious, continued on.
“The woman appeared to be the leader of their group,” said Okita. “She spoke confidently and surely and asked the most questions. The other two Masters seemed to defer to her to some extent. I’m…sorry, Master, I didn’t get their names — Master?”
Perhaps you like slim, leggy brunettes? The words from before returned with a vengeance, ripping through Coil like a bullet through the heart. For a wild second, Coil wondered if Medb had known, if this was part of her plan.
But Medb appeared just as surprised as Coil was, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, and mouth dropped open just the slightest. Stunned. She hadn’t been expecting this any more than Coil or anyone else in the room had been. Once the surprise faded, however, her lips quickly curled into an evil smile.
“Well now,” she said silkily, “isn’t that quite the coincidence, Master?”
“Yes,” said Coil, voice strained, “yes, it most certainly is.”
And if Medb hadn’t been so surprised by this news too, then Coil might have suspected her of plotting — more, and more deviously, than she usually did, at least. The fact she didn’t and the fact that she was still so important to the continued war against the western faction were what spared her from Coil’s anger and what allowed Coil to take a deep breath and calm down.
It didn’t matter. It might not even be the same person, despite the similarities. In fact, it almost couldn’t be, because she was too old, so it likely was nothing more than a coincidence. Only once Coil had laid eyes upon this mysterious woman in person would the truth be laid bare, and the next course of action would be obvious.
“I’m sure more will be revealed when the time comes for us to meet with them tomorrow,” Coil said, forcing as much calm as possible. If anyone noticed the straining fingers or the tense shoulders or the undercurrent in Coil’s voice, they wisely didn’t comment on it. “For now, I think we should move onto…other matters. Other than the Chaldeans and your mysterious friend, Okita, have there been any signs of disturbances or activity by local gangs? The ABB or E88 reconstituting? The Merchants?”
Okita shook her head. “None that I could see, Master. I have made several sweeps of the city over the last week, and although there have been a few…malcontents, there have been no signs of new criminal parahumans or a resurgence of the handful that were unaccounted for in the aftermath of your efforts to disband the gangs. The few groups I encountered were little more than a handful of disgruntled malingerers. They seemed content to simply complain to each other and weren’t plotting anything to worry about.”
That was only to be expected, of course. Coil had gone to great effort to remove as many players from the board as possible, and thereafter to discourage as many of the remnants from kicking up a fuss or trying to restart the gangs as could be scared into obedience. It was the reason why the ABB and the Empire had been handled as aggressively and ruthlessly as they were — hard to muster up the urge to continue fighting when you knew the enemy you would inevitably face had already personally taken down Lung.
“I can’t imagine anyone being too eager to draw your attention after you had Arjuna pick that little pretend dragon apart so brutally, Master,” Queen Medb said wryly, smirking lazily. “And what you did with that mad bomber — ooh, I got shivers, Master.” Her smirk curled into something lascivious, something suggestive and almost seductive. “As well as a few other things, too. It made me want to jump you right then and there, even with my dear Cúchulainn watching.”
Once more, Cúchulainn didn’t seem to react to his own name beyond a brief, low growl that spewed more steam through the gaps in his teeth. Okita’s lips curled in disgust, and her hands clutched her sword closer to her body as though she was afraid it would get dirty from Queen Medb’s mere presence.
“I’m sure it was for the better that you didn’t,” Coil said, voice dry as bone. Even if there had been any interest on Coil’s end, Queen Medb was what a lot of people would have rightfully called a ‘walking red flag.’ No one who knew her — the real her, instead of the elegant face she wore when she was out in public — would have thought it a good idea to risk her affections. The legend of Ishtar and her fame as something of an archetypical femme fatale came to mind as a decent comparison.
Even the power dynamics that were supposed to exist between Master and Servant could easily be flipped around if she was given the slightest chance to try.
“Arjuna,” and the hero of the Mahabharata, upon being addressed, straightened just the slightest, because he had barely relaxed since sitting down, “has the PRT or the Protectorate made any further attempts to contact you since last time?”
“None, Master,” Arjuna said primly. “I would have informed you the instant any such communication reached me. It appears that they took my initial refusal to heart.”
Coil hummed. “A shame. I would have liked to properly apologize for the unfortunate incident with Armsmaster. I didn’t intend for things to go the way they did.”
Queen Medb chortled, delighted. “How cruel of you, Master!”
“Having the PRT and the Protectorate on our side would have been convenient,” said Coil as though Queen Mebd had not spoken at all, “if for nothing else than the way it would have let us undermine the western faction and their legitimacy. Hard for them to argue their righteousness when all other forms of legal authority happen to be under our banner.”
“Too bad,” Queen Medb agreed, grinning like a shark. “If they had just cooperated, you might not have had to drive them out of the city — public opinion can be such a wonderfully powerful tool, can’t it, Master?”
Coil waved it off. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. If the PRT and the Protectorate want to throw their lot in with the Westies, then they’ll simply have to face the consequences of their decisions. There’s no more Triumvirate to prop them up anymore. They don’t have the biggest stick in the game.”
It was still a stick that would have been nice to have. Even with everything that had gone awry since April with the introduction of the Servants and the strange patches of time displaced zones, the original plan would have worked quite a bit neater to have the Protectorate and the PRT on-side. To have the legal authority that came with the backing of a government agency, rather than the far more challenging task of keeping enough fingers in enough pies to stop everything from collapsing.
As long as everyone viewed Coil as the one who kept order across the eastern seaboard, then the only problem was those troublesome pests out west. The instant that changed, however, and civil unrest started, things would become a lot more complicated than Coil would prefer.
A good thing Accord was already onboard. A resource already tapped, because once upon a time, long before any of this started, the powers that be decided to disregard him and lost his talents as a consequence.
“Am I to continue to lead the remaining heroes of this city, then?” asked Arjuna.
“For now,” Coil told him. “Those who remain, at least.” And then, to Queen Medb, “Has there been any word from the younger part of New Wave?”
“They haven’t been to any of my photoshoots, if that’s what you’re asking,” Queen Medb answered. “The last time I saw Glory Girl, Panacea, Shielder, or Laserdream was several months ago.” She shook her head, chuckling. “Such silly names. What a ridiculous game you play in this era, Master.”
“A polite fiction,” Coil purred. “A method for avoiding…escalation, as I’ve already explained to you, Queen Medb.”
“And it hasn’t stopped being funny,” Queen Medb countered. “Masks, codenames, unwritten rules — if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you all were trying to imitate a real Holy Grail War.”
In a certain light, maybe it did look that way. It was just simply impossible, because while the origin of parahumans as a phenomenon was largely shrouded in mystery, the idea of going out in costumes as heroes and villains using aliases and secret identities was very clearly inspired by comic books.
Having nothing to say to that, Coil turned to Arjuna, “And the older cohort? Lady Photon, Flashbang, Brandish, Manpower?”
“I have had little contact with them,” Arjuna reported. “Unlike their children, they seem largely content to continue living their daily lives. There have been reports of the occasional patrol, but without a larger, more organized criminal element to engage with, I believe they have had little cause to don their…costumes and play at being heroes.”
There was a faint note of disdain in his voice, but beyond what had already been said, he did not give any further indication of his thoughts on the matter. Coil thought that he likely viewed the whole thing as childish or impure, like a cheap knockoff of the great and grand deeds he and his fellows had committed as Heroic Spirits, as though they sullied the honor and glory of the entire Mahabharata with their pettiness and simplicity.
The story of all of history: the older generation finding the younger lacking in proper respect and dignity. One had to wonder if Arjuna’s elders had felt the same about him, way back when.
“If they’re not feeling the spirit of ‘heroism’ anymore, then I guess it’s all for the better,” said Coil, reclining in the comfort of that tall-backed chair. “Public opinion may be a powerful tool, but celebrity like theirs is a potent lever for changing it. So long as they’re content and aren’t interested in rebelling or fighting us, there’s no need to worry about how to discredit them or remove them without upsetting the public. They can play at house all they want.”
“If Master would prefer to see them removed,” Okita began suggestively.
“No,” said Coil firmly. “Better to let them fade into obscurity and slip from people’s minds. They serve well enough as hostages against their children alive.”
“How merciful,” Queen Medb said sardonically. “But you’re right. No sense in getting rid of them if we might have use for them later.” She sighed. “It’s too bad. They’re all quite photogenic. I wouldn’t have minded stealing away with Manpower and Flashbang for a night or two.” A devilish smile curled her lips. “Maybe even at the same time.”
This time, even Arjuna gave her a dubious look, like he couldn’t believe she could possibly count as a Heroic Spirit. Coil wondered if he would really be able to resist were Queen Medb to make an honest attempt at seducing him; bending men to her whims with her charms and sex appeal was a key part of her legend, after all.
Even a Heroic Spirit without a direct combat role in her myth could be quite terrifying, perhaps even more so. Valor and glory in battle were common; doing great deeds with the point of an arrow, the blade of a sword, or the tip of a spear were how so many Heroic Spirits had become one, after all. To be so exceptional for a much softer power was the nightmare the PRT had prepared so desperately to fend off.
“I think,” Coil said carefully, “that we can call the meeting here. Unless there was something else someone wanted to report to me?”
It was phrased as a question, but it was really more like a statement. Coil already knew that they had covered everything they had meant to cover today. As though to prove it, the others glanced at each other briefly, but no one spoke up.
Coil nodded. “Alright. I’ll be expecting you here tomorrow for the negotiations with Chaldea, but for today, return to your duties. Arjuna, as always, I expect to hear from you the instant the PRT or Protectorate — or the Guild, for that matter — makes contact with you for any reason.”
“Of course, Master,” Arjuna said with a respectful bow of his head.
“Okita,” Coil continued, “I don’t want Chaldea being assaulted at any point for any reason prior to our meeting, so I expect you to keep an extra close eye on former ABB and Empire hideouts. If any of the leftovers decide to kick up a fuss, handle it immediately and as quietly as possible. There should be no doubt in the Chaldeans’ minds that I am in charge here and my word is law.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Okita swore.
Lastly, Coil turned to Queen Medb, “Queen Medb —”
“You don’t need to tell me,” said Queen Medb with a wave of her hand. “I’ll keep an eye out for the New Wave kids and distract them if I have to. We wouldn’t want them putting strange ideas in our new allies’ heads before we can even have a conversation, do we?”
“Good,” said Coil. “Then you’re dismissed. I’ll see you all here tomorrow.”
Taking it for what it was, Arjuna and Okita rose from their chairs and filed out of the room. Queen Medb, however, lingered, and she stayed seated for several long moments more, waiting until the other two were out of sight and out of earshot. She fiddled with her fingers, running the edge of her thumbnail in a line up and down the inside of her index finger.
“You know they’re going to have questions,” Queen Medb said at length. Any trace of mirth or joke was gone from her voice.
Beneath the black mask, Coil’s lips pursed. “I know.”
“Like how you made all of this happen,” Queen Medb went on. “How you got to where you are. How you made yourself the only major power in the east. What happened to this PRT and Protectorate of yours.”
“I’m aware,” said Coil. “And if they do ask, I’ll tell them the truth: that when the Holy Grail appeared in this world and Heroic Spirits of the honored dead began manifesting, I recruited as many as I could to fill the vacuum left by the Triumvirate and the United States government. It’s as simple as that.”
“They might ask how you convinced us to join you,” Queen Medb warned.
Coil snorted. “And? Celtchar and Ferdiad might be here because of friendship, but it’s not like the others will make a secret of the fact that they agreed to follow me of their own free will. The only one who had a wish to be granted was you, after all.”
Queen Medb did not look towards the hulking Cúchulainn that stood as a menacing sentry behind her. She didn’t need to. The complicated expression that crossed her face spoke as loudly as any words ever could about how she felt when it came to having gotten her ‘wish.’
There was that old Chinese curse. ‘May you find what you’re looking for.’ It seemed Queen Medb had learned firsthand all of the different things it could mean. After all, she had wanted a Cúchulainn who would love her, ravish her, who would not deny her as he had in life, and she had gotten exactly what she asked for.
“What if it is her?” Queen Medb asked with quiet intensity.
Coil took a deep breath and stood, turning away and towards the window. For a long moment, Queen Medb’s question went unanswered, and cold eyes — hidden behind the lenses of the mask — stared out across the city, surveying its breadth as a king might his kingdom. The comparison was at once both immensely pleasing and utterly terrifying, because only someone who had everything could be afraid to lose it all.
“It can’t be her. She’s dead,” Coil said. A long moment of silence stretched, and a black-gloved hand curled into the fabric of the reinforced chair. The faux leather squealed. “But if it is…”
The words lingered. Threat, promise, curse, and so much more hung between them, thick and ominous.
“…we’ll deal with it as necessary.”
You might notice, the America teaser I posted a while back took dialogue straight from this interlude. That wasn't an accident. There's so much loaded into this chapter that I'll be utterly shocked if anyone manages to suss it all out. I tried so hard to play with your expectations in this one the same way I did the Brutus one in Septem, so you shouldn't take anything at face value here.
Go treasure hunting, guys and girls.
"Wait, there's no way you didn't notice. No matter how tuned out you were."