I sat alone in my office long after the reports stopped coming in, the screens dimmed to a low glow while I reread the data for the third time.

  And then a fourth.

  We had underestimated him.

  Dreamhack was not just a builder.

  That assumption had been comfortable. Reassuring, even. A tinker who just constructed things, impressive things, yes, but linear things. You give him time, resources, and space, and he produces hardware. Powerful hardware, but still constrained by logistics, by effort, by the natural friction of reality.

  That model no longer fits.

  The footage of three mobile missile pods carrying tanks on wheels deployed and operational within a day had already strained the framework. Heavy industrial output, rapid prototyping, and immediate field deployment should not coexist at that speed without a massive supply chain or an army of specialists.

  And yet he had neither.

  Then came the flying Mech.

  A flying jet mech. It transforms itself into a bipedal monster. Combat-ready. Piloted personally. Not a prototype limping through a test flight, but a fully realised platform engaging hostile targets with precision and restraint.

  That was the detail that unsettled me most.

  Restraint.

  The man knew how to restrain himself without killing anyone. Engagements were precise and controlled. It wasn't a mad tinker throwing everything at the wall to see what stuck. The design choices were deliberate. Every system appeared to be built with expansion in mind, as if each machine were only a node in a much larger framework.

  This wasn't the same tinker that strapped a booster to one of his construction mechs and flew haphazardly that day... I have to believe that they were merely construction mechs, but who knew he really did have a combat mech capable of taking down a warbus with support firing from those rapidly movable tanks, noting he's actually holding back.

  On his own, he wasn't dangerous; the man didn't have a brute rating, just a pure base human with tinker intellect.

  With resources, he was formidable. But with his team like Monica, the technokinesis capable of cyberwarfare and parahuman suppression, the industrial automation, the SCVs, the logistics pipeline that seemed to materialise out of thin air, his tinkering didn't just improve…and now a doctor as well?

  It scaled.

  Each new component didn't just add capability; it multiplied the effectiveness of everything that came before it. Faster construction enabled more machines, which enabled better protection, which enabled safer expansion, which enabled even faster construction. A positive feedback loop we had no doctrine for, because we had never faced anything like it.

  We thought he was a builder.

  In reality, he was an ecosystem.

  A self-contained military-industrial complex condensed into a single cape identity, operating inside city limits, iterating at a pace that outstripped oversight, regulation, and response.I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, feeling something cold settle in my chest. This is turning into a real logistical nightmare fast, and our own team fumbled when it mattered.

  If this was what he could do in days, then weeks would be catastrophic. It makes me wonder if he deliberately set up shop all the way north at an abandoned trainyard, knowing he would end up like this.

  And months? If we gave him a few more months, he would change the balance of power, not just in Brockton Bay, but nationally. Possibly globally.

  The most dangerous realisation of all crept in quietly, without drama:

  Dreamhack wasn't racing us.

  He wasn't even reacting to us.

  His end goal? That's the most dangerous part of all? Nobody knows.

  He was building toward something, and the PRT was already behind, watching the wake of a future we hadn't planned for, struggling to decide whether to chase it… or get out of the way.

  'I stared at the incident report until the words blurred together, and the fact that it still didn't change made me angrier than the contents themselves.

  This should have been a clean win. The Merchants had been handed to us on a platter by that Dreamhack. God knows what his business is at the hospital, but it seems one of his team members wanted to meet Panacea.

  Merchants were neutralised and contained. It was supposed to be an easy handover. The Merchant leader and his main cape, Squealer gift-wrapped by a rogue cape who had no obligation to follow protocol and yet somehow managed to do our job better than we did.

  And then we lost them. Not because of overwhelming force, not because of some brilliant villain gambit, but because of operational sloppiness layered on top of complacency.

  Dauntless followed the procedure. Everything looks fine on the outside, but the procedure does not compensate for unexpected variance and bad assumptions, and it certainly doesn't win against improvisation by the Merchants.

  Velocity tried to adapt, but he hesitated at exactly the wrong moment, defaulting to caution when decisiveness was required. I can't fault him for doing the best he can; he's not suited for combat.

  And Triumph is still technically a Ward, no matter how much he wanted to prove otherwise; he let emotion leak into his judgment at the moment when it counts. The boy has a lot of growing up to do, even if he used to lead the Wards with just Kidwin and Vista. I could almost chart the failure point to the second,

  And Dreamhack. The name alone sat like grit between my teeth.

  He violated protocol, disregarded the chain of command, deployed unregistered technology, and turned a hospital incident into a city-wide embarrassment. And yet, despite all of that, the uncomfortable truth remained: if he hadn't acted, people would have died.

  The hospital staff would have been hostages, Panacea would have been pushed even harder, and the Merchants would still be roaming free instead of briefly in our custody. But he was still human, not a brute, and he went ahead anyway, alone with another unknown cape in his team.

  I dont know if it's overconfident, stupid, or he does know what he's doing. The fact that he didn't get himself killed and shut that Murderbus down with just him alone bumps up his threat rating by a lot.

  We understated the Tinker and how effective he is in combat.

  Our judgment was missing a key factor of his growth and how fast he scales in his Tinkering.

  Briefly.

  I hated that word. Misjudgement.

  The optics were catastrophic. A civilian hospital is compromised. A rogue cape overriding Protectorate authority. PRT personnel arriving in force only to watch their detainees escape under their noses. I could already hear the questions from Washington, from the public, from the Mayor's office. Questions about competence. About control. About why an unaligned tinker with a private army was operating freely in Brockton Bay while my people stumbled.

  Worse still was the precedent. Every cape in the city would see this and draw conclusions. That the PRT could be ignored. That independent action produced results. That authority was negotiable if you were powerful enough.

  I would not allow that narrative to stand.

  And yet, I couldn't simply write him off, Dreamhack. He was too visible now, too effective, too entangled with things that mattered. Arresting him would turn him into a martyr. Letting him operate unchecked would turn him into a rival power.

  Which left me with the worst option of all.

  I closed the report and leaned back, feeling the familiar weight settle in my chest.

  I hadn't even finished my coffee when Assault and Battery were ushered into my office, and the looks on their faces told me everything before either of them opened their mouths.

  I gestured for them to sit, already bracing myself.

  "Director," Assault began, posture stiff, voice professional in that way soldiers used when delivering bad news, "we've received updated intelligence on Dreamhack's equipment."

  I felt my jaw tighten. "Updated how. We always seem to be a step behind."

  Battery leaned forward, fingers laced together. "The bipedal platform we captured on videos around the periphery of his base saw nothing of the sort, but these just came, saw them being transported to the docks, the one we initially classified as a heavy walker wasn't sure if this is the end state."

  I stared at her. "Of course it wasn't. What's another new mech from him, I dont have to say I dont like this, do I?"

  Assault nodded grimly. " Yesterday's sighting showed that wasn't even what he's building; a newly reconfigured tank-based mech was sighted today into what our analysts are calling an F1-class ground vehicle. Extremely high acceleration, stabilised at unsafe speeds for conventional armour, with lateral missile pods on thread tanks"

  I exhaled slowly through my nose. "So he built a racing tank."

  "Yes, ma'am," Assault said. "And…nobody knew he was making one."

  The battery continued before I could interrupt. "Today's update confirms the same chassis type might just be a prototype; bipedal final form is this"

  Battery showed the latest iteration of the machine "This version could turn into an aerial configuration. VTOL capability, swept wings, assault profile. Essentially, a mech that becomes a jet."

  There it was. The point where my patience finally snapped. " How is he so excellent at building things? He built a transforming combat aircraft," I said flatly. "In the middle of nowhere at the abandoned trainyard"

  Assault didn't look away. "Yes, Director…uh, we tried with the drones, but this time it failed."

  "And let me guess," I continued, my voice icy, "PRT sensors couldn't track how or where he even made it, let me guess, it's that giant fortress we just kept out of reach?"

  Battery winced. "Our systems lagged behind the change. Whatever materials and control architecture he's using, it's… ahead of us, every electronic equipment we sent goes into a fritz and malfunctions."

  He's ahead of us.

  I leaned back in my chair, fingers pressing into my temples. "Yesterday, he had a walker. Today, he has a tank and a jet. Do you people want to bet that tomorrow it swims?"

  Neither of them laughed. Assault cleared his throat. "There's more."

  "The Viking," Battery said, naming it like that alone should mean something to me. "That's what he calls the platform, according to the coms when he called it at the Brockton General Hospital.. He piloted it personally during the Merchant engagement. Precision control, seamless transitions, combat awareness that suggests either extensive training or-"

  I felt the familiar burn of frustration crawl up my spine. "The man now possesses a transforming mech-jet hybrid, missile-capable, faster than our response teams, piloted by someone who ignores our authority, and backed by a handler who can shut down parahuman abilities."

  "Y-yes, Director. Look..even I have to admit, he's pulling out tech like it's a rabbit from a magic hat. It's honestly scary." Assault said the quiet part out loud. Nobody wants to admit it, but he does.

  I stared at the PRT insignia on the wall behind them and wondered when it had started feeling like a decoration instead of a shield.

  "When I was told that he had a flying mech, I was assuming the man was still tinkering with one of those Building mechs that is currently in Kidwin's Tinker Lab. I assume he would have reiterated the same mech that he crashed at our doorstep when he came to visit Shadow Stalker. I was not informed, however, that this was…entirely a new mech, and thus my orders to request him contained wouldn't sound so dumb. I thought he would hurt himself would have sounded pretty stupid now, doesn't it?"

  Assault just nodded "Considering the casualties of Independent capes going out alone without any backup is over 75%, it's not wrong to contain him first before he hurts himself, but…Boss, you have to admit, this was bad intel on our part."

  I shook my head at the blatant incompetence of my own department."Why wasn't I informed the moment the Intelligence department knew they identified how wrong they are?" I asked.

  "We were still confirming the data," Assault replied. "And… Dragon was the one alerting us of our miscommunication with the coms department, but we were a little too late to correct that mistake."

  That gave me pause.

  "Dragon," I repeated. "And what does she think about this Viking."

  Battery exchanged a look with Assault. "She believes the Viking is operating below its theoretical ceiling intentionally…She suspected that the mech could outperform more. Dreamhack weren't holding back."

  I closed my eyes, clearly annoyed at all of this, but it's getting too hard to keep it all bottled in. Assault himself just sighed and couldn't form a response. I dont blame him, I have a feeling that a headache is coming in as my stomach started to turn as well due to indigestion after listening to all of this. At least the kidneys are still holding out.

  "So you're suggesting that…" I muttered. "He's actually holding back? With two machine guns strapped on two arms and missile pods?"

  Assault just gave me a shrug while putting the files at my table while Battery just elbowed him, sometimes its best if the man knew how to keep his mouth shut. This headache might turn into a migraine when the day is over.

  I opened the files and read it through again hoping to find Dragons notes to be wrong but the woman tend to be right when it comes to technology, I gave the files a hard stare before deciding what to do "This is no longer a matter of containment. Dreamhack is redefining the balance of power in my city, and he's doing it faster than we can react."

  Assault straightened. "Orders, Director?"

  I thought of the docks, the hospital, the escape, the optics, the way my people had looked standing next to that machine.

  "Do nothing", I said finally. "We have done abysmally poorly. I think we have done enough. No direct confrontation unless absolutely necessary- no, under any circumstances do not confront them."

  Battery frowned. "Director?"

  "If we push too hard," I continued, "we force him into an enemy posture. And I don't intend to be the one who starts a private arms race with a man who builds jets overnight."

  I leaned forward, hands flat on the desk.

  "Monitor him, but dont engage, we've passed that point."

  I let the sentence hang. "…I want to know before he finishes bolting something else together. We need to know more about this unknown entity at our doorstep, not knowing doesnt sit well with me, and it wont sit well with Washington once I reported this upstate. Once Armmaster is feeling better, request him to analyze the mech in Kidwin's tinker lab, We need to find out more of what he is capable of so we won't get blindsided like this again."

  Assault and Battery stood, saluted, and left my office.

  The door closed behind Thomas Calvert first, smooth as ever, that blandly competent expression fixed in place like a mask designed to put people at ease.Rennick followed a moment later, posture rigid, face drawn tight with the strain of a man who had spent too long trying to hold a crumbling system together through sheer discipline using PR.

  I stayed seated. Power, in moments like this, was about stillness.

  I gestured for them to sit and didn't bother softening my tone.

  "I want your assessments, I want to know how the Operatations team and Communication department scrambled this hard enough as if we're seen as incompetent. There is no excuse Calvert." I said, folding my hands on the desk.

  "Director, If you would allow me to explain I-" Calvert trying to deflect things again, but I won't tolerate this, not after today as I cut him off.

  "-And none of your excuses either Thomas, cut the bullshit and find out why this happened!. Why was our pre-assessment inaccurate by such a huge margin that our top performing Parahuman , Dauntless. Velocity and Triumph missed a giant armored bus barrelling through the Hospital and not a single of our men was able to see it coming!. The hospital incident. The Merchants escape. And our recent troublemaker, Dreamhack and his team…It's far too convenient for it to mess up this big."

  Calvert leaned back slightly, fingers interlaced, eyes thoughtful. Renick didn't. He sat forward, jaw clenched.

  I continued before either could speak.

  "We were handed Skidmark, Squealer, and a new parahuman from the Whirlygig on a silver platter. They were contained, even if slightly contained by Dreamhack's power dampers, and we still lost them. Then we compounded that failure by antagonising the one cape who made the capture possible in the first place because we failed to get a proper read on the person."

  I felt the irritation bleed through despite myself.

  "That reflects poorly on all of us."

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  Renick exhaled slowly. "Director… Dauntless followed protocol. So did Velocity. Triumph as well as-"

  "Triumph is not a full Protectorate member yet," I cut in sharply. "Which makes his behaviour more concerning, not less. Pulling him out of New York was the right decision."

  Calvert nodded mildly. "From an optics standpoint, yes. From a capability standpoint, however, Dreamhack represents a destabilising variable. Uncooperative assets are often more dangerous than hostile ones."

  I fixed my gaze on him. "You're suggesting we treat him as an enemy? After all that I've said?"

  "I'm only suggesting Emily-" Calvert replied evenly, "that we acknowledge he does not view the PRT as an authority he answers to. That mismatch in expectations is what caused the confrontation. Our capes expected compliance. He expected results."

  Renick frowned. "That doesn't excuse disregarding command structure. Or deploying military-grade hardware in civilian airspace."

  "No," Calvert agreed smoothly. "But it does explain why our people looked… ineffective by comparison."

  That stung, because it was true.

  I rubbed my temple, feeling the beginnings of a headache. "Our capes froze when it mattered, not to mention our intel department couldn't even recognise if he sported a new mech or old. Dreamhack teams keep churning out new units every single time. I believe our intelligence department isn't equipped to analyse them. They fumbled when it mattered. Meanwhile, Dreamhack assessed, deployed, neutralised, and with no casualties."

  Renick bristled. "You're not saying they're incompetent."

  "I am saying," I replied flatly, "that competence defined by rule adherence means nothing if it fails under pressure and I want to know how long has this been going on."

  Silence settled for a moment.

  Then Renick spoke more quietly. "We train our people to operate within limits. Dreamhack doesn't appear to have any."

  Calvert smiled faintly at that. "Limits can be imposed, shall we …?"

  I looked at him sharply. "Careful of what you say, Thomas."

  "Of course," he said calmly. "I only mean politically. Socially. Economically. A cape like Dreamhack thrives because it operates independently. That independence can be… complicated."

  I understood what he was implying. He wanted to impose leverage. Containment without chains.

  "And what about Monica?" I asked. "His associate. The one who neutralised powers across an area like an EMP. The one Dragon flagged as a severe cyber threat."

  Renick's expression darkened. "That worries me more than Dreamhack. One tinker we can classify. A support element that outperforms Dragon is something else entirely."

  Calvert tilted his head. "Or it's the same problem. Dreamhack is not a lone actor. He's the core of a system. Remove one component, and the others compensate."

  The word echoed my own earlier conclusion, and I didn't like that he'd reached it so easily.

  "So," I said at last, "what do you advise?"

  Renick straightened. "We stop treating him like a rogue cape and start treating him like a geopolitical entity. Clear boundaries. Defined engagement rules. No knee-jerk arrest, at this point, the man is an army of his own. I've been getting newer reports stating that his creations are already expanding downward towards the docks."

  Calvert nodded. "And we avoid forcing a confrontation we cannot win.. Not yet. I'll personally vet this with some contacts in New-York. See if we can dig up more information elsewhere. It's highly unlikely a cape this capable just decided to come to Brocton Bay and setup an operation here."

  I leaned back, exhaling slowly. Incompetence was easy to punish. Failure of imagination was harder.

  The thought surfaced uninvited, and once it did, it refused to leave.

  An apology.

  The unthinkable kind. Not a carefully worded press release or a hollow"regret for the misunderstanding spiel, A real one. Direct. Personal. From me. I hated that my first instinct was to measure how much it would cost politically.

  Renick was the one who broke the silence.

  "Director," he said carefully, too carefully, "there's another concern we haven't addressed."

  I looked up from the tablet in my hands. "What else is it? Go on."

  "The mech. The flying one." He hesitated, then committed. "The one he called Viking.? It's…you know what I mean."

  I felt my jaw tighten before I could stop it, right, the Nazi angle. Of all the angles he could take, this was the one he chose.Renick continued, emboldened by the lack of interruption.

  "It has… connotations. Norse history. Viking imagery. Given Brockton Bay's history, and the presence of Empire Eighty-Eight, there's a non-zero risk of association. Media, public perception, internal sensitivity reports-"

  I cut him off.

  "That's a stretch," I said flatly.

  "With respect, Director, even if it's a stretch. What if he's with the E88?"

  "No," I said, firmer now. "It's not 'with respect,' it's paranoia. Vikings are not owned intellectual property of neo-Nazis."

  Renick frowned. "Public perception doesn't always follow nuance, especially when it comes to P.R"

  "And public perception," I shot back while glaring, "is already a mess because we let a hospital turn into a battlefield and then looked surprised about it, the name will probably piss of the Empire more than it is."

  Calvert finally spoke, his tone measured. "He isn't entirely wrong about optics. Empire uses Norse symbolism extensively. Runes, mythic framing, warrior culture. A mech called Viking flying over the city? some people will connect dots that aren't there."

  I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to unclench my fingers.

  "I doubt the man is from the Empire," I said. "He didn't coordinate with them. He didn't echo their rhetoric. He didn't even tolerate them when he fought off Stormtiger and Cricket or did you forget that?. He dismantled Merchant hardware with surgical precision and then healed the people inside it."

  Renick shook his head. "It was worth stating that the name is in poor taste. We should anticipate it from all angles."

  "Then where does it end?" I demanded. "Do we ban the word 'Thor'? Rename every hammer in the city? Tell New Wave to stop using classical imagery because some lunatic group co-opted it?"

  Silence followed that.

  I pressed on, voice colder now. "The Empire does not get to define mythology, history, or language by existing. If we let them, we've already ceded ground."

  Renick opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  Calvert tilted his head. "For what it's worth, Director, Dreamhack's design language doesn't match Empire aesthetics. No runes. No iconography. Industrial, utilitarian. More… aerospace than mythic."

  . "It's a military designation, not a manifesto. naming conventions, if the intel is accurate, is simply functional and boring.."

  No one argued that. I tapped the tablet once and set it down. "This is not where we pick the fight. Not now. Not on this."

  Renick nodded, reluctantly. Calvert said nothing, but his eyes said he agreed more than he was willing to admit.

  I added, almost as an afterthought, "And if we start treating every independent cape as a potential extremist because of naming conventions, we'll push the reasonable ones straight into someone else's arms."

  The intercom on the desk lights up, I'ts probably Assault or Battery alerting us that our guest is on their way. "Monica is on her way here. We couldn't get Dreamhack for debriefing" Battery alerted me from a brief call

  I didn't bother straightening my uniform when Battery delivered the update. If anything, the irritation sharpened my focus; we didn't manage to invite Dreamhack, but that was fine. I didn't expect him to come after how we fumbled the ball and treated him that way.

  Monica. Alone. DreamHack is absent.

  That, by itself, was telling at what the man was doing right now, wondering what could be more important than dealing with bureaucratic nonsense. I could think of a myriad of ways he could find a better time than meet us here, but I wasn't a cape.

  I stood and left my office without ceremony, walking the familiar corridors toward the smaller meeting suite we reserved for the upcoming uncomfortable conversations . As I walked, I reviewed what little we officially knew. No registered cape name. No PRT file. no ID, just the designation "handler," an "assistant," an "adjutant." Words that avoided definition.

  When I reached the observation window, I stopped before entering.

  Monica was already seated.

  That was the first thing that stood out. She hadn't been placed there by an agent or guided by protocol. She had chosen the chair, chosen its distance from the table, chosen the angle that gave her a full view of the room and the door without appearing defensive. Not slouched. Not rigid. Poised in a way that suggested patience rather than submission.

  She looked… relaxed, too relaxed.

  . Asian features, neat dark hair, neutral expression. Attractive, yes, but not ostentatiously so. The kind of face people trusted without knowing why, covered by the only thing covering her eyes, her only defining feature, was her lips, still smiling neutrally.

  I noted the armour next. It wasn't PRT-standard, not even close, but it wasn't flamboyant either. Clean lines. Matte finish. No visible seams or access points. No obvious weaponry. That unsettled me more than a visible gun ever could. It suggested confidence that came in red and white, mostly white, like a medic. But her outfit looks more like a Military special ops outfit.

  She looked up as I entered.

  Simply attentive.

  I took the seat across from her and folded my hands on the table, watching for micro-reactions. There were none worth noting. Her breathing was steady. No signs of nerves, no telltale signs of someone caught alone without their protector.

  I felt, for the first time since this entire mess began, a flicker of something dangerously close to respect.

  And unease.

  Dreamhack might be the one building machines that rewrote our threat models, but Monica? This quiet, composed and unreadable person in front of me felt like she was trained for boardroom politics.

  And I had the uncomfortable sense that she knew it too. The rest of the Protectorate members started to shuffle in, including the still recovering Armmaster and Dragon as well, but Monica stood up,

  "Hello," she said smoothly. "I'm Monica. And I would like for everyone to leave first before I address Director Piggot directly."

  Renick wanted to protest, and so did the rest of the PRT, but I cut them off immediately, eager to get this done as soon as possible "Leave us alone, please, just for a moment" The rest of the Protectorate didn't say much, but they were reluctant and left.

  Monica just stood there for a moment and smiled after they all left.

  I asked "They left. What is so important that you need them to leave? Do you wish to negotiate something privately with me?"

  She reached up and removed her Visor." As a gesture of respect. It is better if we talked face to face without any judgement or lies," she said putting her little glasses away, another tinkertech.

  I had faced Endbringers without flinching. I had stared down monsters, warlords, and politicians who would sell cities for a headline. None of that prepared me for how infuriatingly disarming she looked.

  Beautiful, yes. The kind of beauty that made people underestimate the blade behind it. Clear skin, dark green eyes that reflected light without warmth, features soft enough to invite trust and sharp enough to deny intimacy. She looked young. Not naive, never that, but young enough that my instincts rebelled against taking her seriously.

  And that, I realised a second later, was exactly the trap.

  "I appreciate you agreeing to meet me before the actual negotiation. I have told you my side of the report, I'm sure you read it on your desk." she said, keeping my voice clipped and professional.

  I nodded, The one Triumph send personality while looking guilty and embarrassed at my doorstep, Teenagers… "Yes, it came to my desk before your arrival, your…data packets were surprisingly adequate despite having been involved in the battle themselves"

  She smiled, " Technology manipulation is my power. Sending hoards of data in milliseconds and processing it is my speciality"

  I ignore what she tries to imply and counter, eager to start this personal conversation and negotiation she enacted. "You're aware this situation tha- "

  " That the situation is not our fault? Of course." Monica interrupted gently, her tone polite enough to make the interruption sting. "Nor does the Commander deem it necessary for him to be here, that is why he sent me."

  I felt my jaw tighten. "You interfered with an active PRT operation," I said. " If your people had waited, we could have done this cleanly in a joint operation"

  She smiled faintly. Not amusement for the sake of amusement, I know that look, seen it enough with Calvert when he wants something.

  "And yet," she replied, "those same operations resulted in escaped suspects, civilian endangerment, and a hospital hostage situation that would have ended far worse without our intervention."

  I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "You violated our protocol."

  "Yes," she agreed without hesitation. " We don't follow faulty protocol when it is clearly ineffective and detrimental to the public" I hated how easily she said it.

  I tried another angle. "You deployed unauthorised power dampening technology on federal agents."

  She nodded once. "Temporarily. No lasting harm. I would remind you that your own people attempted to restrain our Commander while an active potential mass-casualty threat was escaping."

  I narrowed my eyes. "You're very confident for someone sitting in a PRT building."

  Monica met my gaze without blinking. "Director Piggot," she said calmly, "if I were not confident, I wouldn't be here. And if you intended to arrest me, you would not have sent everyone else out of the room. I was under the impression that you wanted something from us, and we are in the process of negotiating something."

  Damn her. She folded her hands on the table, posture relaxed. "Let us skip the part where we posture. You are angry because control slipped through your fingers. That is understandable. But anger does not change outcomes."

  I exhaled slowly through my nose. "What do you want?" There it was. The pivot. She'd engineered it flawlessly.

  "I want," Monica said, "an acknowledgement."

  I raised an eyebrow. "An acknowledgement of what, exactly?"

  She tilted her head, studying me like a chessboard. "That the PRT mishandled the Brockton Bay Hospital incident. That the Commander and Mercy prevented loss of life. And that Shadow Stalker's prior treatment, as well as Panacea's exploitation, occurred under your jurisdiction."

  My stomach twisted.

  "You're asking for a lot from me. Why Panacea? With Shadow Stalker I understand partially as to why we needed to do what we were meant to do, she was escalating the issue" I said carefully.

  "I believe the issue with Panacea may stem from lack of PRT oversight in the use of Parahuman healing without any involvement from your department at all, the lack of PRT agents at the hospital is discerning, Dr Mercy from our team has noticed alot of …undisclosed involvement from third party regarding Panacea's involvement in her 2 weeks of volunteering,"

  That..seemed reasonable. "We tried, but New Wave doesn't want our involvement in policing their precious healer, and they have been no issues from New Wave as her mother kept us updated"

  Monica contemplated for a moment before she said "I see, my mistake. Perhaps this is an issue we should take with New Wave"

  Are they suggesting that they might intervene with Panacea healing at the Brockton Bay hospital? "That is not acceptable- her parahuman healing is vital to-"

  "We understand her importance, Director, but according to Mercy, her treatment at the hospital were…abysmal to say the least. I'm asking for the truth from you. It isn't much in the scheme of things," she replied.

  Silence stretched between us. "Why?" I asked. Curious why she wanted this.

  "Because Mercy is a Doctor, and seeing a fellow doctor, let alone underage being abused does not sit right with her…" she said "and…I want an apology.Privately. From you. This doesn't have to leave the room. Nobody has to know you apologise."

  I groaned, "Again..why?"

  She just smiled and said "Because you inconvenience the Commander, and because I wanted a clean slate, a clean start for the us moving forward, unless you dont want to of course. Nobody is forcing you director. We can call off the negotiation and you may detain me If you wish."

  I hated this. Hated that she wasn't wrong. Hated that she'd backed me into a corner without raising her voice once. Hated that part of me, the part that still cared about results more than pride.knew this conversation would never exist if Dreamhack were a liability instead of an asset.

  Hated that a girl half my age could force me into this position without pressuring for direct blackmail. I clenched my fists beneath the table, but she was far too calm about this and didn't interrupt.

  "…The hospital response was inadequate," I said at last. Each word tasted like vinegar. "The situation escalated due to failures in coordination."

  Monica didn't react. She simply waited "I surmised as much."

  "And," I continued, jaw tight, "your team's actions reduced civilian harm."

  Still nothing. No smile, nothing at all

  "You have my apology," I said, forcing the words out. "For how the PRT handled that incident and for attempting to detain your associate without proper cause."

  There…I said it.

  The room felt lighter. Worse, it felt like I'd lost something. Monica inclined her head slightly. "Thank you, Director Piggot," she said. "That is all we wanted. A heartfelt apology.." and fastened her visor on.

  Showing her face like that is supposed to represent trust? What was the point of showing me that? Either way. If she has a face in public, we can find her.

  "Send them in. Everyone." I shouted outside, a heartfelt apology, she said. So why do I feel like I've eaten bitter lemons? What was the point of that? I heard that asians negotiate differently with people. A culture clash and difference in where our culture prefers directness with low context, while asians mostly often rely on indirect, nuanced cues. The goals are different, and trust and rapport often require various time-consuming prerequisites to business discussions.

  Could this be it?

  No time to dwell on it.

  The door opened in sequence, Dauntless first, rigid and professional and didn't seem to suffer any fatigue. Miss Militia was right behind him, eyes sharp and unreadable. Velocity was hovering near the back like he wished he were anywhere else, still tired from the recent attack. Assault and Battery followed, quieter than usual. Dragon's presence filled the room even without a physical body, her avatar shimmering faintly near the wall display, choosing to stay away from people, even if Colin is the only person she can tolerate being with. Colin is nowhere to be seen, probably gets an earful from Dragon for pushing himself.

  No Wards. That was deliberate, Triumph especially.

  Monica remained seated, perfectly at ease, hands folded as if she were the host and we were the guests, the irony of our reversed position, but I intend to negotiate our point.

  I stood.

  "For the record," I said, voice carrying authority, "this is an internal negotiation. What is discussed here does not leave this room unless agreed upon."

  A few nods. No objections.

  I turned my attention back to her. "You've forced our hand, Ms Monica. The PRT does not like unknown variables operating inside its jurisdiction. However, I agree that-" I paused, choosing my words carefully, "...results matter."

  She inclined her head slightly. "They do, I'm glad you agree with the sentiment."

  I gestured to the table display. Files appeared before me, mostly technical summaries, redacted schematics, and after-action reports from various departments. The Viking. The Cyclones. Power-damping tech that made my analysts sweat.

  "These machines," I said, "represent a level of tinker output that cannot be ignored. We want oversight. Limited technological exchange. In return, the PRT can offer financial compensation, federal contracts, materials access-"

  "No." The interruption was gentle but absolutely full of authority, and she meant it too. She really didn't come here for money, unlike ordinary Capes.

  I narrowed my eyes. "No?"

  Monica shook her head. "We don't want money."

  That drew reactions. Assault blinked. Battery frowned. Miss Militia's eyes flicked to Monica with renewed interest.

  "Everyone wants money," I said flatly.

  "Our organisation doesn't," Monica replied. "At least, not from you."

  I felt irritation crawl up my spine. "Then what do you want?"

  She tapped the tablet she brought once. A map of Brockton Bay bloomed into view, zooming toward the docks using holographic technology. Parcel lines highlighted in dull red abandoned lots, foreclosed warehouses, rusting industrial sprawl.

  "These," Monica said calmly. "The remaining depreciating land around the docks."

  I stared at the display. "Those areas are under municipal review."

  "Yes," she agreed. "And bleeding the city dry."

  Calvert shifted to the side. His eyes were interested in all the properties that were highlighted "You're asking for zoning exceptions?"

  "Not exceptions," Monica corrected. "Permission to operate on those land leases, the land to us. If you cannot sell them to us."

  The map has been updated. A corporate overlay appeared.

  Financial Investment Development Group

  Subsidiary: Terran Industries, Hyperace Group, Mercy FSA

  Registered. Clean. Annoyingly thorough, several robust financial investments under large foreign banking groups with dedicated asset managers from various licensed wealth trust funds offering services from unit trusts to wealth management to SE and SME financing mostly in European countries and the now defunct South East Asia, a close network nation that formalised the Nusantara region.

  Not much is known from that region; the PRT doesn't operate that far off unless it's an Endbringer battle. To think they were able to operate like this with proper funding. So they really did have a backer. A really strong financial backer, too. Does that make them Corporate Capes?

  "We wish to purchase the land legally," she continued. "At market value. Through the proper channels under our investment company"

  Miss Militia crossed her arms. "And what do you plan to build?"

  Monica met her gaze. "Infrastructure. The commander wish to rejuvenate the economy in Brocton Bay"

  That was all she said. I felt a familiar headache forming. "You expect us to believe this is purely altruistic? I call bullshit on this. What does your organization reall want?"

  Monica smiled faintly. "Director Piggot, nothing that scales is purely altruistic. But it can still be mutually beneficial. The Commander may act aloof sometimes but he has his grand design, Just because you can't see it doesn't mean others cant."

  I studied her. The confidence in her commander and her emotional restraint. She wasn't asking permission out of weakness; being here alone is already exposing her to plenty of weakness. She was offering us a chance to be involved before we were left behind. Something none of the PRT can even predict.

  The goal of their Commander, Dreamhack…what was it really?

  "And the technology?" I pressed. "You refuse to exchange entirely?"

  "Oh no, we can offer the blueprints and schematics," she said. "We're open to collaboration. Joint exercises. Controlled demonstrations. Knowledge sharing where it does not compromise our operational integrity."

  "You realise," I said slowly, "that giving you control over the docks shifts the balance of power in this city."

  "Yes," Monica replied without hesitation. "That's the point, with this, crime under the Brockton Bay docks area will significantly drop and the Commander already has plans to revitalize the Docks and the area surrounding it "

  The room went quiet. Dragon spoke at last, her voice thoughtful. "Director, revitalisation of the docks has been stalled for years. If Dreamhack succeeds, crime pressure in surrounding districts could decrease significantly."

  "The Mayor will never allow this," I said. Roy wouldn't allow it.

  "I know, so allow me to show you these..." Monica said, and dozens of holograms flew out from her quaint datapad, in real view.

  "These are the blueprints my group uses. They don't require parahuman abilities to reproduce," and she continued calmly. "Any sufficiently advanced factory can build them. CNC machining. Modular fabrication. Automated assembly lines. Everything here in this datapad-" she gestured at the rotating hologram "uses known physics."

  Dragon wasn't looking at her anymore and focused on the schematic closer towards the hologram. Her avatar was reading through the data, her avatar's eyes flickering as processing power spiked. Lines of data streamed across the display faster than most humans could read.

  "I am… verifying," Dragon said slowly.

  Seconds passed. Too many seconds.

  Then:

  "…This is extraordinary," Dragon said as all eyes turned toward her display frame on the wall, wondering what was so amazing about the designed blueprints.

  "What's so unbelievable about it?" asked Dauntless curiously since Armmaster isn't here. None of them knew how amazing it was for Dragon to react like this.

  "These designs are optimised far beyond current civilian manufacturing standards," Dragon continued, awe unmistakable in her voice. "Material stress tolerances reduced by three hundred per cent. Energy losses are minimised through novel load-balancing geometries. Some of these applications…" She paused. "…They imply engineering paradigms we are decades away from implementing at scale."

  Monica replied, " Neosteel, you have samples of it, yes? With this blueprint, you can manufacture any of these items on the blueprint I provided"

  "If Dreamhack wanted to," she went on, "we could license these designs globally. Civilian infrastructure. Power grids Reactor that runs on clean fusion energy, and Disaster relief vehicles deployable for Endbringer, even Hospitals that run on nanotech healing…with or without the PRT involvement."

  That ended the discussion.

  Everyone knew that this was the final nail in the coffin, pinning us down.

  She got us.

  **********************

  A/N - .I have a Discord. I'll just post it here. join no join..or just wanna give some ideas for future plot. Feel free to drop by, I guess. It's not very active.