I swallowed and cleared my throat. I hadn’t reverted my tongue change, and I wasn’t sure if doing so would interfere with my ability to speak, so I spoke with my mouth closed using my mimicry technique of speaking using my throat.

  “Well, what would you like to know specifically? I’ll stick to that and make the best use of the remaining time.”

  Legend spoke next. His voice was businesslike, but with a warmth and kindness to it. The fact that his only facial disguise was a domino mask helped him to remain expressive in ways I was acutely aware of nowadays.

  “Who gave you the order to assemble a specialist team to defeat Leviathan?”

  Oh boy. This could go badly. Yet again.

  “Nobody did. I did it myself. That wasn’t–it wasn’t something I deliberately set out to do, it just sort of started to come together, and I wanted to see it through to completion. We’d either succeed or fail. I did everything I could to keep everyone with me engaged in the battle while keeping them safe.”

  He reached over and grabbed a mug of coffee. The PRT staff had prepared both hot and cold drinks for the heroes and directors when the meeting started. He took a sip of it. Holding his cup in both hands, he looked at me. Appraising me, I felt.

  “Perhaps we misunderstood, or there’s been a miscommunication, or just assumptions. You had a high-level Thinker, a defensive specialist, an offensive specialist, an immobilizing Shaker, and two Brutes to directly engage and distract Leviathan in close combat.” He took another sip. “From the outside, that would look like a purpose-built, hand-picked team.”

  Yeah, I suppose it does, at that.

  I flicked the end of my tail back and forth on the carpeted floor. “I want to be clear about something. I talked to Alexandria about this earlier as well. As far as I’m concerned, all I did was transport people and try to facilitate more capable capes.”

  Legend nodded. “She mentioned that. She also said it wouldn’t have been possible at all without you specifically.”

  I sighed, and the end of my tail thumped into the floor in annoyance. “Time is short, so I’ll get back to the main topic. Here’s my perspective. I was fighting Leviathan with Fenja and Menja when I buried him in the side of a high-rise. The building started to come down from the damage we were causing. Tattletale and several others were on top of that building. I hadn’t realized that at the time when I knocked him into the building.”

  I rubbed the tips of a few of my large claws over the carpet, distracting myself a little from the uncomfortable truth of what I’d done. “I had to make a choice when the building started to collapse. I could either try and keep him inside and contained, or I could focus my efforts on saving the people who were falling off the roof.” My voice caught a bit in my throat. “I tried to save who I could while keeping him in the building. I thought the alternative, him getting loose, would cost more lives. Tattletale came tumbling off the roof, and I caught her. The rest–”

  I had to take a breath. “There were four capes, three I didn’t recognize, and Crusader. If you need someone to blame, I was directly responsible for their deaths. I was able to catch Tattletale, but I had to escape to avoid the building's collapse burying me as well. The others fell to their deaths, as far as I know. I went airborne, saw a wave hit the Rig, and called it out to everyone. There were ten to fifteen seconds to save a group of people caught out in the open. I dove down and evacuated the ones I could. I grabbed five with my four hands and tail.”

  I brought the end of my tail over and up, clicking my articulated claws together as a demonstration.

  “Five people. Bulletman from the Travellers, Narwhal, Night, and two I didn’t know. I got them out and airborne right as the wave hit. The rest… if I’d have landed or slowed down to try and save them, I wouldn’t have had time to get the others to safety.”

  Piggot spoke up. “How did you choose who to save and who to leave behind?” I flexed my jaw. I’d sort of blocked out much of the fight in my head in the aftermath, and revisiting it, and all the people who had died, wasn’t easy.

  “It was very simple. If they were standing upright, I grabbed them. If they were on the ground or crawling, I didn’t. I could have maybe scooped those people up, but I’m very big and very heavy. It was a challenge to pick people up without killing them already, given the speed I was travelling at. I thought if I had to scoop them off the pavement, chances were that I’d either slice them into pieces with my claws, or the pavement that got caught when I was scooping them up would have killed them.”

  Renick cut in, voice heated. “So you saved two villains, one a known murderer and the other a violent criminal, based on what-ifs, speculation, and random chance?”

  I turned my head to face him directly. My voice was cold as ice and unyielding. His question pissed me off. “There are no flags or team colors in an Endbringer fight. There are people who fight to protect themselves and others. That’s it. And to be completely honest with you, Deputy Director, if it came down to it, and I had to choose to save one cape at the expense of another, I’d choose the one who would have the most beneficial effect in the fight, regardless of what their affiliation or legal standing was.”

  It looked like someone had popped a hole in Colin, and he was slowly deflating in his chair like a saggy balloon. Renick’s cheeks colored. He looked like he was about to say something.

  “I would have done precisely the same, Apex,” Legend said. Several heads turned at the table to look at Legend. He turned to the others. “We try and protect our own when able. But from what Apex has said, there were practical concerns with the decision on who to rescue. And I would generally agree with their sentiment. For those of you here who haven’t participated in an endbringer battle, everything is about survival and trying to mitigate damage. It’s utilitarian, maybe it's brutal, but so is triage. And these fights are triage on the macro-scale.”

  Thank you.

  He motioned for me to continue. Piggot announced: “Three minutes.”

  “I was getting the people I rescued safe and repositioning Narwhal into a spot she could fight from on my back when Leviathan attacked me directly. I was mostly able to dodge the arc-jet of water he shot at me and protect the people I was carrying, but I got clipped in the tail. The person I was holding there was just…gone after the water hit. I got out of range and asked the others if they wanted to stay with me or go. Narwhal, Tattletale, and Night stayed. I dropped off the rest and re-engaged.”

  I tapped my big claws on the floor, drumming my fingers. “Tattletale started relaying weaknesses and details to the broader team through her armband. She had a hypothesis that there was a weak point, and wanted me to attack Leviathan to try and probe for it based on how he reacted to attacks on his torso. I did, she thought she found it, and she requested information from Dragon on cape abilities in the fight. Narwhal questioned her, and then I believe authorized it.”

  Dauntless spoke up. He was resting his elbows on the armrests of the chair, hands folded together under his chin. I could see the reflection of his eyes in the shadow of his helmet. “Concerning, but we can take it up later.”

  I nodded.

  “There were a few matches for capes that fit the remaining pieces to the puzzle. We needed someone to immobilize him to get as many shots in as possible. We needed someone with a powerful offensive ability that could defeat his defenses. I went and picked up Flechette. We had to choose between Clockblocker and Eclipse. Clockblocker’s ability wouldn’t allow us to attack him while he was stuck, and he was reported as wounded. Eclipse’s armband was reporting her dead for some reason, but they thought she was likely still alive due to her ability.”

  Both Miss Militia and Legend glanced over at Armsmaster.

  What the fuck was that about?

  “Sixty seconds,” Piggot again.

  “I saw Leviathan drowning someone. I went and rescued them because I was right there. It was Alexandria. I gave her uh… let’s call it monster CPR. Got her back up, asked her to find Eclipse while I landed to do some emergency surgery on myself. She did, we engaged Leviathan when Bitch’s dogs attacked him, and he was distracted. From there, it was a matter of immobilizing him, which Alexandria, myself, and Eclipse did, along with Bitch’s dogs. It took a few shots to find the weak spot. One was a glancing blow that messed him up bad, but didn’t kill him. The last one was a gamble, and it missed. I ripped the rod energized with Flechette’s power out and stabbed the other spot, and with Alexandria acting as a pile-driver to knock it in, he died.”

  “Fifteen. Let’s bring up the video call,” Piggot told one of the PRT employees to the side of the big table.

  “Thank you for your report, Apex. We’ll talk more after the call,” Legend told me before rotating his chair around to face the display wall. The lights in the room went to a twilight setting, and the lights over the table came up to a high brightness. Piggot looked over at me.

  “Quickly, move the chairs and get Apex at the table. I forgot about the lights.”

  Two people rushed forward and each grabbed two chairs, making room for me. I scooted up and rested my arms under the table, hovering my head and shoulders over it. I was sitting next to Armsmaster, with Miss Militia on his other side. The screens shifted, and a video calling application came up.

  My arm itched wickedly as it finished growing in and started to separate from my body. I tried to avoid fidgeting as a fresh arm peeled away cleanly, the armored flesh sealing seamlessly as it pulled free. I flexed my new right hand, causing the joints to crackle and crunch.

  “Sorry,” I whispered. “Always happens when I have to grow a replacement limb.”

  The display came to life, with a blue background and the Seal of the White House front and center.

  A moment later, the background dropped to reveal a room fairly similar to the one we were in, albeit with more uniform lighting. A big wooden table, seating twelve or fourteen people, maybe. Older men and women sat in each of the seats, and at the far end of the table from where we were viewing them, sat the President of the United States, President Gillen.

  I held still and stayed quiet.

  “Good morning, Mr. President.” Legend took the lead.

  “Legend, Director Piggot. It’s good to see you both alive and well. The people of the United States are sending their thoughts and prayers to Brockton Bay today. Let’s observe a moment of silence for those who fell today.”

  People on both sides of the connection dipped their heads. After about thirty seconds, the President cleared his throat. “Alright. What can you tell me about the situation on the ground currently?”

  Legend gestured over to Director Piggot, who flipped the cover of a binder open and flipped a few pages.

  “Let’s start on page four,” she said. Everyone in the room on the other side had similar binders and folios.

  “Two shelters were directly attacked by Leviathan. Both mass-casualty events. Three more experienced severe structural damage and/or flooding. Significant casualties in those as well.” Piggot spoke, and as she did, a map came up with two red circles and three orange circles. Two shelters in downtown were attacked, two were flooded or compromised on the coast, both on the south side of the bay. One was in the northwest part of the city.

  Concerning. I hoped Melody had made contact with our parents.

  “It’s too early to tell what our casualties are looking like with any certainty. Most of the other shelters–” she gestured at the map, and a whole host of green dots lit up. “–are reporting secure and intact. Rough estimates are currently that the number lost in the attacked shelters is between two and five thousand.”

  He was gone for… what, not even five minutes, three minutes? He killed that many people in so little time?

  My chest felt tight.

  “Page five, please,” she continued. The quiet rustle of pages as two dozen people flipped to the next page.

  This was like… macabre high school.

  The display shifted, dots clearing out, and several layers of blue superimposed over the city, with light blue being the largest, and dark blue being the smallest.

  “This is a graphic of the penetration of the tsunamis. The darkest blue is four meters or more of water. Middle blue is one to three meters of water. Light blue is one meter or less of water.”

  This graphic was devastating. The entire coastline of the city had gone dark blue, and the middle blue extended miles into the city, throughout most of downtown. The one-meter or less line covered probably seventy percent of the city. The only things virtually untouched were the high points of the city, Captain’s Hill in the west, and southwest of the downtown area, which was on a fair incline. The thing was, Captain’s Hill was mostly a park. And those properties to the southwest? Very affluent and upper-crust, meaning very low population density among all the McMansions in that part of town.

  I was fidgeting with my claws under the table as I watched the info-dump.

  Piggot continued to go page by page, skipping some pages, as she seemed to be conscious of the time on the call. The entire city's potable water system was compromised. Huge swathes of city water mains and large plumbing networks had been directly targeted by Leviathan’s mass hydrokinesis. The network, where it wasn’t totally destroyed, had no pressure and flow currently due to massive power grid failures. Sensors were reporting seawater and sewage contamination present where it wasn’t destroyed.

  Nearly the entire city had some form of power grid failure. About 15% of the city on the southern and western portions, were being sustained by transmission lines and substations. Much of the city’s power network was underground, and with underground tunnels being damaged and/or flooded, most of it was offline.

  This was… well, it was catastrophically bad. We’d been hit by half a dozen tsunamis and a giant, nigh-invincible mass murder monster.

  Piggot concluded her report, and the people I assumed were the Cabinet were discussing with the President. Debating whether or not to condemn, cordon off, and evacuate the city. Either try and fix it at a later date, or chalk it up as a loss. There was provisioned funding to relocate victims of Endbringer attacks, both domestically and abroad. Things weren’t looking good on the Washington side of things.

  This is home. We can’t just abandon it, declare it a loss, and write it off like this. Beyond this being home, this place is important, now more than ever.

  I whispered over to Armsmaster: “I have to say something.” He looked over at me and shook his head.

  I was about to do something incredibly stupid.

  I interrupted the discussion on the other end of the video call. “Excuse me? I’d like to say something.”

  Legend gave me a sharp look. Piggot looked like she was about to blow a blood vessel.

  Silence. The President looked up from the binder he’d been looking through with several cabinet members.

  “Legend, would you care to make introductions?”

  He nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. This is Apex, a provisional member of the Protectorate. I apologize for the interruption.”

  The President folded his hands over his binder. “This is a classified meeting. Why are they present?”

  Piggot licked her lips. “Mr. President. This person was responsible for the death of Leviathan.”

  The President sat up a bit straighter. “I see. That’s a good reason for them to be present. I think we can spare the time to hear what you have to say, Apex, but keep it short.”

  I cleared my throat and tried not to let my voice shake. I think the fact that I wasn’t actually talking in the conventional sense made it easier.

  “I hear people much smarter and more well-educated than I am discussing the matter of what to do with Brockton Bay. Very good points have been raised. The cost, issues of logistics, and the sheer level of destruction. I can’t argue against those points, but there is something I think is extremely important that hasn’t been brought up.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “Go on,” President Gillen said.

  “Brockton Bay isn’t a very nice place. It’s sort of run-down, and the economy has partially collapsed with the loss of shipping. But we can’t give up on it, Sir. This isn’t just a city that’s been devastated.”

  I gestured a human arm over at Legend. “When Behemoth attacked New York in 1994, we pulled out all the stops, fought him off, and the city and nation rallied behind the city. There were fundraisers nationwide, people helping out in any way they could. The city was heavily damaged, and we built it back up better than ever.”

  “You’re suggesting that we try and tap public goodwill to help restore Brockton Bay?” The President asked.

  I shook my head, slowly, firmly.

  “No. You won’t have to. This is the first place, the only place in the world that has successfully stopped and killed an Endbringer. The people of America have a fighting spirit. They won’t act if we declare the city another Ellisburg or Madison. But if we say that this is the place where we’ve been able to claw back from the edge of oblivion? If we give the people of the US and the world hope for a future without Endbringers? You won’t have to ask for a thing. They’ll fight in their own ways. Raising funds. Shipping materials. Relocating. Volunteering.”

  I clacked my jaw shut. People on both sides of the meeting were looking around, whispering to one another.

  The President spoke. “Brockton Bay is one of the oldest cities in the country. It’s not anywhere near as famous as larger cities, but it’s not an unknown, either. You’re talking about the potential of the city as a symbol.”

  I nodded.

  “I tell others that I try and make the best of things. Abandoning and evacuating the city would probably make the most sense from a sheer effort, cost, and logistical sense. But doing that would ignore the potential for the city to be our greatest success story, after decades of Endbringer events, we’ve only survived. Give the people and us something to work towards. I think you might be surprised to see how desperate people are for that very thing.”

  I glanced over to my side. Colin was staring holes into the side of my head. I couldn’t make out his expression.

  “We’ll discuss this on our side–” the president looked over at a digital clock. “–and we’ll resume the call in five. Until then, we’ll be muting.”

  “We’ll do likewise, Mr. President,” Director Piggot said, and she clicked a pair of buttons. The light on the camera over the display went red, our video feed went black in the corner display, and a giant red microphone symbol with an X through it lit up in the middle of the screen.

  Bam!

  “How dare you embarrass us like that in front of the President! If you were anyone else, I’d have you stuck in a containment cell on the spot!” The Deputy Director slammed his fist on the tabletop and was red in the face. Director Piggot looked pissed, too. “You might have just cost everyone in this room their jobs!” He fumed.

  Legend was frowning as well, but his eyes weren’t directed at me.

  I turned my head in that super-creepy, slow, and precise manner to look at Renick.

  “Tell me, Deputy Director,” I said, my tone flat and dry. “How good is your career going to look when the entire city gets condemned and evacuated, the Protectorate and PRT East Northeast gets dissolved because there’s no reason for it to exist anymore, and everyone here, parahuman or not, gets flung to the four corners of the United States at random?”

  He clenched his fist on the table.

  “I didn’t just say what I did just because I firmly believe it to be the truth, I also said it because you, her,” I pointed a claw at Renick, then at Piggot. I brought my tail up, swept the tip over the parahumans at the table, then tapped it on the wounded and casualty report on the table in front of me. “...and everyone on this list’s jobs depend on this city being here in six months.”

  “That isn’t your call–”

  I cut him off, talking right over him, loudly. “I didn’t see anyone here saying anything to that extent. I’d have kept silent if anybody had. It’s a vitally important thing to consider, for us, and for everyone else who lives here. Maybe you don’t want to speak up and embarrass yourself in front of the President, but I will. What the hell is the point of fighting Leviathan if we’re just going to make everyone who lives here displaced and homeless anyway?”

  I flipped my tail back and forth in the air over my head. Opening my mouth and exposing the racks of dental horrors, and my tongue with its own gnashing teeth and flicking mandibles. I hissed at him, and he jumped in his chair. Finishing up my little back the fuck off display, I chuckled. “You should be happy someone here is fighting to save your job.”

  Piggot spoke up. “That’s enough out of both of you. This ends now.”

  Legend smoothed his hands over the tabletop. After a weighty pause for the air to clear, he said, “In my opinion, Apex is correct on both accounts. There’s a huge opportunity here, both for the city and for the nation.” He looked over at Miss Militia. “And they’re right about the alternative. Your team would be broken up and resettled around the United States according to need and ability if the city is written off as a loss.”

  Piggot leaned back in her chair and parted her bob, her gray eyes cold and hard. She looked around the table and made it clear she was addressing everyone. “I don’t care who you are in this room. My team or a visitor. Under my command or not. If you have something worthwhile to contribute to the conversation, speak up, and mind your manners. If it’s not important, can wait until later, or isn’t constructive, then remain silent.”

  I nodded to her, as did nearly everyone else at the table.

  Your team. Is Colin on medical leave? I glanced over at him and the armband. Things didn’t add up.

  The other end of the call came off mute. Piggot turned our camera and microphones back on as well.

  “Are we ready to resume?” President Gillen asked the room.

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Piggot replied.

  “So we’ve done a little probing on our side about this idea. Seems very feasible and could help with some larger agenda issues outside the disaster relief. There are some challenges we’ve found. Let’s discuss them briefly.”

  An aide handed the President a folio, and he flipped it open and leafed through a few pages.

  “So, we have a strategic shortage of armed forces currently. Tsunamis from Leviathan also hit New York, Boston, Salem, and several other cities. We’ve deployed local National Guard to New York and Boston. Most of the damage to New York was contained to Long Island. Boston got hit reasonably hard.”

  He looked up from his information. “The net result is that we’re short of manpower at the state and federal level, resources that could be used to transport, secure, and distribute relief.”

  He flipped a few pages and read off a page. “Brockton Bay rail networks are largely out of service, and while there’s significant dockyard and sea access to cargo, there is an issue with blockages in the bay canal, if I’m reading this correctly?”

  “Both things are accurate, Mr. President. We get some sea lane shipping in, but the larger vessels aren’t able to get into the bay any longer due to some boats that were sabotaged and sunk in years prior. I’m not sure what the status of the docks is in terms of operational ability. I do know that a lot of the warehouse storage was destroyed in that part of the city by the waves.” Director Piggot sounded like she was narrating a particularly boring book.

  “So we have a logistics issue of getting vital supplies to get you stabilized in the city. Large portions of the city are underwater, and the roads are damaged or of unknown status. Flying in that much material might be possible with air-dropped freight, but there are many vital things we can’t fit on military cargo aircraft. If the rail network is inoperable and the docks are out of commission, we are going to struggle to get enough supplies in to support the population.”

  Voices chatted back and forth on our side of the call, discussing options. I thought about Danny Hebert. The run-down parts of Northside. What he had told me about the dockworkers. The surplus of mouths to feed and not enough work to go around.

  I raised a human hand.

  Someone whispered to the President, and he looked up. “Yes, Apex?”

  “I think I have a solution to that problem. A couple of options.”

  “Please share them with us,” he said.

  “Can you get large supply shipments into Boston easily?” I asked.

  The President looked over at someone else at the table, and she took the question. “Yes, we can, fairly easily.”

  “Well. I can carry a significant amount of weight personally. I haven’t tested exactly how much, but I’d estimate five to ten tons, maybe. I can fly cargo containers from Boston to here easily, and do a number of trips per day. If I can get the services of one of our Wards, Vista, we can multiply the effectiveness of those trips by condensing the volume and mass of the cargo dramatically. Maybe ninety, ninety-five percent compression, provided there’s no living material. We’d be talking several hundred tons of cargo per day, transported securely, picked up and dropped anywhere it needs to go.”

  The woman who had spoken before pulled out her phone and seemed to be scribbling numbers and using a calculator on the back of one report. “That could supply a solid percentage of the population of the city.” She looked over at the President. “Extend the window for famine out to several months from now, maybe longer, depending on how many trips per day we’re talking.”

  The President nodded. “What were the other ideas?”

  Little bit of a long shot, but the better choice by far. Better for the rest of the city.

  “I personally know the leadership of the Brockton Bay Dockworkers Union. The dockworkers were hard up for work prior to all of this. We’re talking people who are used to hard labor, operating heavy equipment, and who are stubborn as mules.” I looked over at Legend. He tilted his head ever so slightly.

  “If I could get assistance from some other members of the Protectorate, I think we could clear out the shipping lane to get the larger vessels into the bay and moored to the docks. I imagine several of the wrecks have shifted; we might have more or less work on our hands clearing the channel, but if we could? We could fully utilize the city’s port. The people are here to work the docks, and I’m willing to bet the Union would put on hard hats and work on reconstruction, too. That’s thousands of laborers with skills we need to start fixing infrastructure.”

  Legend crossed his arms over his chest and glanced up at the ceiling, thinking about something.

  “One moment.” The other side muted. We followed suit.

  Legend spoke after a moment. “There are a few people I can think of we could tap to work on that project. With the assistance of a teleporter, we could get everyone out here and working on it in fairly short order. What are we talking about, precisely?”

  Piggot steepled her fingers. “Between four and eight freighters and barges were sunk. They’d have to be removed, moved, destroyed, or something.”

  I cleared my throat. “I realize you’re probably not going to like this suggestion, but there’s a villain or two in the city we might be able to tap that could help immensely.”

  Legend looked down at me and asked, “Who?”

  “If we got her some dive gear for the boats that don’t have any exposed material, Faultline could cut those ships up like a set of Jenga blocks. Bit–Hellhound’s dogs could be chained or strapped and haul chunks from the shore, or used like draft horses if we could float some of the wrecks.”

  “We are not working with Hellhound or the Undersiders, not after the string of attacks on Protectorate personnel in recent weeks.” Piggot's voice was firm.

  I looked over at her. “Out with it,” she said, nostrils flaring.

  “You wouldn’t be working with, hiring her, or interacting with her at all. I will act as an intermediary. I can see if she’s willing and what she wants, but if I had to guess? It’s probably just money and space. She runs shelters. But you’re entirely hands-off.”

  “And how do you propose she gets reimbursed, then?” The director leaned forward on her forearms, her eyes drilling into my own.

  “Well, I would expect to be paid for the logistics work and services I’m offering. We could try and negotiate a little extra, for use with various expenses.”

  Piggot planted her palms on the table, her voice level, but carrying an edge. “You’re suggesting embezzlement and financial crimes to support paying a wanted criminal. Is that right?”

  I shook my head. “No, Director. Let me explain what I see, please. Each of those dogs of hers is like a giant bulldozer. They can plow through buildings with ease. She has quite a few of them. I could go with Vista, get actual bulldozers and fly them in, but those are trips that could be spent running food, potable water, and fuel to the hundreds of thousands of people who need those things in the city. I’m only proposing utilizing resources here in the city and doing manual labor that helps everyone. Hellhound has social issues, but she’s not stupid. None of the Undersiders are.”

  Piggot simply grunted in response.

  “And Faultline?” Asked Legend. “What are her expectations?”

  I turned back to Legend. “Fautline is all business, no nonsense. As far as I know, her ask would just be to get paid for labor. I doubt she’d have any issues taking the work. This is straightforward work, local, easy, and good PR.”

  Legend shared a look with Piggot, then looked over at Miss Militia. “Thoughts, Miss Militia?”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “I think Apex is correct on her assessment of Fautline. I don’t foresee issues. I’m willing to at least entertain the other idea, but it would need further discussion and attention to the details.”

  I tapped my claws on the floor. “If it comes down to it, I’ll pay her personally out of pocket to do the work, or work out some other exchange, and you wouldn’t need to be involved at all. Her dogs would be priceless in moving and transporting things in some parts of the city we couldn’t otherwise get equipment into.”

  Legend picked up his coffee mug and took a drink. “Worst case, we have someone else in the Protectorate come in and do it. There’s no shortage of Brute types with high strength.”

  Piggot leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingertips together. “I think the plan has merits overall. We need to work out the details, as Miss Militia has said.” She turned her head to me. “The idea to talk to the Dockworkers’ Union is a good one. I wouldn’t have thought of it.”

  I shrugged my upper shoulders. “Just looking out for people, Director. You give people the opportunity to work for food, water, medicine, and pay in the situation out there right now?” I gestured at the tinted windows and the city outside. “I’m willing to bet most of them are honest, hardworking people. Give them the means to help themselves and take care of their families, and you’ll have fewer people to deal with doing looting, pillaging, or worse. People are going to do whatever it takes to keep their family fed and safe.”

  Miss Militia leaned forward to look past Armsmaster at Director Piggot. “One thing, Director. If we do get ships docked in the bay, we’re going to have to dedicate resources to making sure they’re not raided.”

  Piggot nodded. Dauntless spoke up next. I was almost starting to wonder if he was asleep under his helmet. “Better that we concentrate the relief supplies to a single location, than have to try and escort a dozen convoys a day. Easier to defend a fixed position than moving supplies.”

  The other end came back, and we went off mute on our side.

  The President spoke up. “We’ve run over time, so we’ll finish up here in a moment. Can you get the bay cleared and the docks manned and ready to offload by…” He looked at his paperwork. “Let’s say Saturday, the twenty-first?” Looks were shared between all of us.

  Director Piggot shifted forward and leaned on her forearms. “The bay will be cleared, and the docks will be ready for arrival by eight AM Saturday morning.”

  The President flipped his folio and binder closed, and looked at us. “Then it’s settled. We will announce a state of emergency for Brockton Bay, and FEMA funding will be released as part of the Endbringer appropriations. Stay tuned for details on the numbers. We will be in contact when we have them finalized on our end.”

  He continued. “We are loading a freighter in Charleston, and it will leave within 48 hours for the Bay. Estimates are 72 hours for travel. That freighter will be carrying primarily food, medicine, portable shelters, generators, and fuel. Water, food, medicine, and fuel will have to be flown in from Boston in the meantime as needed. FEMA will transport ten desalination plants to Boston. Five will be there by 10 AM tomorrow, and another five the day after, same time.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. We’ll be hard at work on our side,” Director Piggot said.

  “I don’t doubt it. Please give every member of your team our regards, Director.” The President looked over at Legend. “The same goes for your teams, Legend. Make sure they know we will be doing our part to support you all.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. I’ll inform them personally.”

  The President glanced at the clock. “Alright, Director. My office will schedule another call tomorrow. We might drop in for a visit soon, also. Still trying to figure out a game plan. Good luck.”

  The call ended.

  Battery breathed a sigh of relief. Seemed she was thankful for getting through the meeting without saying a word.

  Funny, that had been my own game plan going into things.

  “I need to step outside, get some fresh air. Care to accompany me, Apex?” Legend was staring right at me.

  I got the distinct impression I was going to get my ass chewed out. I shuffled back from the table and stood up, instantly dwarfing everyone in the room. I followed Legend out, we got into the cargo elevator, and took it to the roof.

  The skies had cleared, and we walked over and behind the rooftop building access points, where there was a chest-high wall to look out at the city from. I took a seat next to Legend.

  Neither of us spoke for several minutes. Legend put his arms up on the railing on top of the wall and leaned forward in a more casual pose.

  “You are a hard person for me to wrap my head around, Apex,” Legend said at last.

  “How so?”

  “Everyone I’ve talked to about you so far has had a very different opinion of you, and they are often conflicting. I got a copy of Director Piggot’s report, Armsmaster’s report, and an email from Miss Militia when you were denied entrance to the Protectorate.”

  “I’m surprised you read through those. You must get an awful lot.”

  He chuckled. “You’re right, I don’t read all of them. I don’t read most of them. I have aides who give me briefs. But when I get three emails about the same person in 24 hours, that gets my attention. Piggot rarely has anything positive to say about anyone. She had positive things to say about you. Armsmaster didn’t think you warranted a spot. Miss Militia thought that not inviting you was a terrible mistake.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t going to tell him I had read the reports myself. That didn’t get me anywhere.

  “Some members of your former team thought you should have led the team. This sentiment was mirrored by some members of the Protectorate as well.” He looked over at me. “Why didn’t you?”

  Carlos…

  My voice was tight when I replied. “Carlos was an excellent leader. He was a good front-line fighter, had strong abilities. And…” I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “He was a friend. I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin that dynamic with him.”

  Legend smiled softly at me. “He was the loudest voice in the room, arguing it should have been you in his place. Not everyone leads from the front. Not everyone should, for that matter.”

  “...Fuck.” I said with a sigh. I dropped my head and clunked it against the brick wall.

  He would have. That was the kind of guy he was. We’d grown apart in the past couple of months, which is maybe the only thing that is keeping me from falling apart right now. I am going to miss him dearly.

  “Did…” I coughed. “Did he suffer?” Swallowed.

  Legend shook his head. “No, not at all. He was crushed, died instantly. Promise you he didn’t feel a thing.”

  I nodded quickly.

  Legend looked back out over the city. “You were offered membership. I was told you turned it down. I ordered that you be granted a provisional membership in the meantime. Can I ask why you turned the offer down?”

  I thumped my head against the wall again. Twice. I took a moment to get my composure back a little. “Do you want the real reason, or the nice reason?”

  “I want the real reason, with no sugar on top.”

  I took a breath, let it out slowly. “It’s complicated, but I’ll try and keep it brief. I’ve had this conversation before, and it’s not fun or easy to talk about. Part of it is that I’m mad and bitter, but that’s a small part. Smaller every day. I just sort of… just don’t care about it that much anymore. Spilled milk, blah, blah, blah.”

  Another breath. “I’m not brand. I’m disgusting. Freakish to look at, my power sometimes makes me irreversibly change. Sometimes I’ll be spraying blood, guts, and meat chunks out from changing. It’s horrifying, honestly. Why I never used it for so long. That, too, I have sort of just stopped caring about.”

  I picked my head up and looked over at Legend. “The last reason is that while I still care about the mission, about saving lives and helping people, I’ve learned many things about how corrupt the PRT is, and I seriously disagree with many of the practices it employs. Villains aren’t all bad people. Many of them lack options, and are just trying to look after themselves and what friends they can have in the shadows.”

  “I feel like there needs to be a third way. The yin and yang, black and white thing? It’s clearly not working.”

  Legend looked over at me and smiled. “You know, it’s very funny you should say that. Director Piggot feels the same way as you do.”

  I drew my head back slightly.

  “You are familiar with the Protectorate and Wards. What about WEDGDG?” Legend asked me.

  I nodded. “Of course. Watchdog. Financial crimes, anti-corruption, and anti-bribery enforcement. The smaller and less talked about branch of the PRT that utilizes capes, largely Thinkers, to keep people from trying to take over the government, major corporations, stuff like that.”

  “Spot on. Now, what about MIRIS?”

  I would have frowned right about now if I had a face. The name rang a bell; I knew I had read about it in my studies. I brought a claw up and tapped it on my chin.

  “Need a hint?” He asked me. I shook my head. It was right on the tip of my proboscis.

  “Wait, wasn’t that having to do with reworking and expanding the classification of rogues? Like a modern overhaul, since the term dates back more than thirty years? Carving out a space for them?” I was feeling more solid on the answer now.

  “Yep, got it. I’m impressed, very few people know about that. Even in the Protectorate, let alone the Wards. MIRIS was a program designed to address that third way, that very thing you’re talking about. Jobs for parahumans who don’t want to become heroes, and who don’t want to be villains. Something specifically to address a well-known and understood issue, the same one you described exactly. People down on their luck, with little to no safety net, who suddenly have abilities. Jobs for people who wanted them, stipends for people who aren’t able to work for various reasons.”

  I sighed. “Sounds like it would have helped a whole hell of a lot towards fixing that problem.”

  He nodded. “It’s not entirely dead. Operates on a bootstrap budget. Only a handful of employees.”

  “What is this all about, Legend? Why are we up here, talking right now about socio-economic and political issues, instead of, I don’t know, like getting out there and actually helping people right now?” I gestured out at the city with one claw, and irritation crept into my voice.

  He tossed his head back and laughed. I just stared at him in silence. I wasn’t clued in on the joke. He turned around, leaning back against the railing and looking at me, still mirthful.

  “She said you were something else, but you really are.”

  I tossed my lower arms up, then crossed them over my chest.

  He continued. “Alexandria. She’s quite impressed with you, you know. You made a hell of an impact.”

  I huffed. “You give a girl tongue CPR one time, and then they’re gossiping to all their world-class superhero friends, huh?”

  Legend choked on his spit, thumping a fist on his chest.

  “I’m sorry, you what?”

  I sighed, exasperated. “Look,” I gestured to my face. “I keep having to remind people about the whole no lips thing. It’s one of those things you really take for granted. I can’t give someone CPR with no lips. So I changed my tongue to be like an intubator I could breathe through, shoved it in her throat, and gave her CPR. Not like I had a choice, she had her lungs full of water, and I didn’t know how long she’d been underwater.”

  Legend held one finger up. “That is hilarious. And no, she didn’t provide those details. But you gave me ammunition to torment her with.” He wiped the corners of his mouth and cleared his throat. “But no, what I was going to say is that you’ve effectively saved the city twice today, and you’re wanting to go straight back out there and work more. Do you not make the connections, or do you just not care, as you said with the other things?”

  My mouth clicked open, then shut again.

  That is sort of a fair point. As much as I hate to admit it.

  “I’m being honest here. I really don’t think I was responsible for defeating Leviathan, and I’m sort of uncomfortable with the implications that I was. If there’s one single person you should probably credit for it, it would be Tattletale. Or Flechette. Hell, Eclipse, Bitch, Narwhal, and Alexandria all did as much, if not more than I did.”

  “Let me ask you this. Let’s say we give the seven of you an equal share of the credit. Would you feel comfortable with it then?”

  I shook my head. “No. That cheapens all the contributions of everyone else and all those who lost their lives.”

  Legend asked me, “What about if we divided it up fifty ways, and we credited all the parahumans who fought Leviathan?”

  “Well, the medical and support staff. Nurses, Doctors, and PRT officers. PRT employees. Many more I’m not thinking of also deserve credit.”

  Legend smiled at me, a small one this time around. “Apex, there’s no end to how finely you can slice the pie, and by doing so, eventually you wind up with a bunch of people who aren’t happy with how they got a crumb. The problem here isn’t them, it’s you. It’s good to be humble, to truly be humble, and not just put it on for effect. But you do have to own your victories, too. Sure, the team deserves credit. The heroes and villains who fought him, everyone else, too. But those people didn’t make it possible to kill him–you did.”

  I shifted my bulk a bit. “I still think Tattletale deserves the biggest slice of the pie. Without her observations and intel, none of it would have happened.”

  “That’s perfectly fine, and that’s typically how these things go with thinkers and operations staff behind the front lines. But let me ask you, do you think she wants the spotlight shone on her? What about Hellhound? Be honest with yourself.”

  I thought a moment, then sighed deeply. “No. They wouldn’t. They’d want to let it be known through unofficial channels, but not be on a stage getting a trophy for it, no.”

  He pushed off the wall and approached me, reaching a hand out and placing it on my left upper bicep. He blinked his eyes rapidly and squeezed my skin.

  “Yeah, I know my skin feels weird. It’s cool, though,” I said.

  “No, it’s not that as much as it is the way you feel under the skin. There’s like zero give, you’re like a rock.”

  I chuckled. “I was squishier before this last change. I’m bigger, heavier, and harder now.”

  “Hmm. It’s no wonder you were able to take hits from Leviathan. Anyway–”

  He looked up at me. “If we could discuss and address your other issues, would you seriously consider joining?”

  “How is discussing systemic corruption and monolithic organizations going to address anything?” I asked him, quite seriously.

  He tilted his head slightly. “Have you considered that those are known issues and that there may be things in motion to address them already, that you’re not aware of?”

  Note to self. Legend is very good at gotchas.

  “Fine. Yes, we can discuss them,” I relented.

  He smiled widely and removed his hand. “Good, I’m very happy to hear that. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  I clicked my tongue. “I need to check with my sister to see if she and my parents are okay. I need to check and see if my base is intact or if it’s wrecked. Scope out my parents’ house. Then I want to check in with a few of the villain teams, see how they’re holding up. Mostly just the Undersiders and Faultline’s Crew. I also promised Director Piggot I’d meet with the Wards. No, uh, particular order there.”

  He nodded. “I think I’ll be sticking around for a day or two. We’ll talk later. I have several things I need to attend to as well.” He stepped away, heading for the elevator.

  I looked out at the sky. It was sunny now, and temperatures were rising. Two battles down so far today. Two victories. I took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. Then I stood up, turned around, and headed for the elevator myself.

  Time for the next battle.