A Bloodstained Shadow Over Brockton Bay

My voice has gone hoarse, inside the locker.

I screamed, at first. Begged someone, anyone, to help me.

Nobody answered, and now, my voice is gone.

I feel the filth around me, the bugs crawling about in it. The awful, never-ending heat.

I wait in silence. A beetle skitters down my back, and I realize, with a start, that I’m dying.

I’m going to die here. This locker is going to be my grave, these bugs my only company in my final moments.

I should rage, or weep, but my fury ran its course within the first hour. My despair ran out a few hours after that, and now… Now I’m drifting. A bug crawls over my eye, and I try to wave at him.

It doesn’t work out. My hand is wedged between the wall and some someone’s rotting lunch.

I should be disgusted. I’m not. Just… empty.

I find myself pondering if dying is like this for everyone. It’s not so bad, really. Almost peaceful.

And then, I hear footsteps from outside.

The janitor, maybe?

I don’t say anything. I can’t move, anymore. Too tired.

The footsteps stop outside my locker. Then, there’s a crunching noise, and a tearing of metal, and suddenly, I’m moving, carried along in the cascade of garbage and tampons into the hallway.

Oh. Someone saved me. That’s neat.

A rough hand grabs me and drags me out of the rubbish by the scruff of my neck, and I finally look at my savior through bleary eyes.

He’s tall, and gaunt, and his skin is pale as a corpse. His hair is exquisitely combed, and as black as his suit. Yellow eyes look me up and down, and his thin lips curl up into a sneer.

“You are disgusting,” he says, propping me up against the wall. “But I suppose you’ll have to do.”

I start to drift off, my vision becoming blurry, before he frowns at me and looks me straight in the eyes. “Listen.”

I feel more awake, then, and I pay more attention to what he’s saying.

“Taylor Hebert. I have had my eye on you for some time,” the pale man says, looking me in the eye. “You are dying. Normally, that would be an unavoidable fact of life, but I have need of an extremely skilled agent with an unbreakable spirit. Since I couldn’t find one, you will have to suffice. There are two choices available to you at the moment: Join me, and live in glory, or refuse my generous offer, and die here, alone and unmourned.”

I… I don’t want to die. I don’t understand half of what he’s saying, but… if there’s a chance that I could live…

“Answer me,” he says, looking my in the eye once more.

“Yes,” I say, my voice a raspy whisper.

He blinks. “I… will take that as you accepting my offer. Very well.”

What comes next is… hazy.

I feel a bite on my neck, and something sweet on my lips, and then…

I sleep.

---​

I awaken in a coffin. A literal, honest-to-god coffin.

“Child,” the pale man says from the couch he’s sitting on, not even looking up from his copy of the New York Times. “You are awake.”

I… I don’t know what- I…

I start sobbing. It takes me a moment to realize that no tears are falling.

He actually looks up at the sound of my sobs, before sighing and looking back down at his paper. “Disappointing. Very well. I will permit you five minutes to resolve this display of weakness of your own accord.”

I… I stop. I pull myself together. I push the roiling, burning pain, the fear, and the confusion back into its cage. “Who are you?”

“Your sire. You have not earned the privilege of my name, and as such, you will refer to me as Master.”

I stare at him in confusion, taking in my surroundings, and realizing that I was just kidnapped after I already nearly died in my own locker.

I… I feel numb. Hollow. Like nothing even matters anymore.

He looks at me. “Come.”

I’m walking over to him before I even realize that my feet are moving. He gestures to a chair opposite the couch. “Sit.”

I sit.

The room is silent for a moment. Then, he breaks that silence. “Taylor Hebert is dead.”

I startle at that. “But I-“

“She died, as far as anyone is aware, when Winslow High School’s night janitor decided to burn the school to the ground, with himself inside. I made sure to leave an appropriately similar corpse at the scene of your locker in order to allay suspicions.”

I stare at him in shock.

“As far as anyone else is concerned, you are dead, and have been for the last month.” He turns the page in the paper. “Your funeral was rather nice, if you must know. Good turnout, passable food at the wake. Your father’s incessant weeping and thousand-yard stare were a bit irritating, though.”

“Dad-“

“Will never see you again,” the man says, in a tone that brooks no disobedience. “You will sever all ties to your old life, or else they will be severed for you.”

I feel anger return to me, and I stand up. “You think I’m just going to roll over and take that? He’s my dad, and I don’t know what sort of operation you’re running here, but-“

He flicks open a lighter, and suddenly, the sight of the fire, wicked, all-consuming fire, is my entire world. I HAVE TO RUN! HAVE TO GET AWAY!

He flicks it shut, and I come to my senses. He raises an eyebrow at me.

I gingerly climb down from the top of the bookshelf I vaulted myself onto, as he looks at me.

“As I have told you. Your life is over. You are no longer human,” he says, piercing me with his gaze. “I have raised you up, exalted you. You are no longer one of the myriad sheep that stampede about from banality to banality, beneath the light of the sun. I have made you superior, made you my own child, the blood of Cain.”

“What?”

He sighs. “You are a vampire.“ He furrows his brow in distaste. “If we must be vulgar about it.”

“That’s impossible,” I say, because, really, it’s-

There’s blur of movement, and suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my chest.

I look down at the stake through my heart, as he turns the page in his paper.

“My apologies. I rather thought that I should save time, and empirically prove your nature.”

I can’t move. I can see, I can feel, but my entire body is locked up.

I fall, flat on my face, unable to move.

After a few minutes of me staring at the floorboards, I hear him close his paper and get up.

“I believe that’s long enough.” He walks over and pulls out the stake.

Suddenly, I can move again.

“Was that sufficient proof of your nature, child?” he asks.

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?” he repeats, in a dangerous tone of voice.

“Yes, Master,” I say, feeling numb. It’s real. The hole in my chest begins to close, and suddenly, I feel… hungry. It’s real. I’m dead. I’m a vampire.

“Very well. You will abide by my training, and obey my orders, and in time, we will wrest the city of Brockton Bay away from the superpowered buffoons in their pajamas, and into the hands of its rightful masters.” His eyes darken, and the shadows begin to dance in the corners of the room. “Welcome, Taylor Hebert, to the Sabbat.”

 

And so, my new unlife began.

The nights that followed my death were slow enough. My sire taught me my weaknesses, and how to be a vampire. How to feed, and how to use the blood boiling within my veins to command the shadows. How to use my inhuman strength to crush all that stood against me. How to bend the wills of humans will little more than eye contact and a word.

And, of course, there were the occasional bouts of what he called “moral instruction” which I privately referred to as “how to be an asshole lessons.” Never out loud, because outside of the ABB gangbangers he brought in for me to feed on, I never saw a soul besides him.

Today, however, thing change.

“Taylor,” he says, as I rise from my torpor. “Get your coat. We have a meeting to attend.”

I comply, and follow him out of the squat, concrete house in the middle of the docks, and into the car.

We drive for about an hour, until he pulls into a driveway, somewhere out in rural Massachusetts.

“I believe this is the address,” he says, peering down at the map he brought along, having stubbornly refused my suggestions of using a GPS. “All right, out of the car.” He affixes me with a look. “You will remain silent unless spoken to, and not embarrass me in any way, is that understood?”

I nod.

He leads the way into the cabin and hangs his coat on a hook by the door. “Am I the last one to arrive?”

“Yes,” one of the people at the table, a woman with red, feral eyes and teeth like a shark’s says. “It’s just us now. Unless we’re waiting on another member of the pack. You’re the one who organized this, you’d know better than me.”

My master takes the last seat.

While he does so, I take the opportunity to stare at the three people waiting for us. The woman was strange enough, but the other two seated at the table are equally bizarre. One of them looks feral and monstrous, a bald head, pointed ears, and dirty, rat-like teeth. The other is perhaps the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen but seems barely cognizant of his surroundings, to absorbed in carving a woodcut image of an eviscerated corpse into the table.

“Paul,” My master nods to the ugly one. “Is Joseph…”

“He’s still mostly all there in the head,” Paul says, nodding at the man carving things into the table. “But you know how he gets when he sees something to catch his fancy.”

“Wiglaf,” the woman says. “Is there anyone else? You’re the one who organized this, if anyone would know, it’s you.” She blinks and looks at me. “And who’s the new kid?”

“Yes, everyone who I invited is here,” Master Wiglaf says. “And the ‘new kid’ as you so eloquently put it, is my childe, Taylor. As she is one of the only five Kindred on the planet right now, I decided to invite her to observe our counsel.”

“So… the world-hopping ritual…” the woman asks.

“Was a complete and resounding success, Anna-Marie. While it did not convey all of our packmates to this new world, it did nonetheless carry us away.”

Everyone in the room is looking at him. Even Joseph has abandoned his carvings to pay attention to my master’s speech.

“This new world has no other Kindred in it. While the assorted ‘capes’ may pose some threat, they can be brought to heel. The Endbringers may prove a slight problem, but one that can be worked around,” he looks between them beginning to smile. “And WE HAVE ESCAPED GEHENNA!”

The Sabbat cheers.

“No more will we fear the hunters. No more will we fear our elders! A soft, vulnerable world lies ready for the taking, FREE OF THE LOOMING THREAT OF THE APOCALYPSE!” he rises, grinning ear to ear, arms wide. “This world is ours! Ours alone! All we have to do is take it!”

Anna Marie rises to her feet, howling with glee. “Where shall we go first, brother?”

“We shall begin with Brockton Bay,” my master says, after the cheers have died down a bit. “We shall subvert it from the shadows. The heroes and villains alike will fall before us, until finally, our will rules supreme over the city! We shall raise up a second Enoch, where Kindred stand in their proper place, above the rabble of humanity!”

The cheers start up again, as I watch, silently horrified, and realize exactly what I signed up for with my Faustian bargain.

“And from Brockton Bay, we shall rule the world!” my master crows, proud and haughty and triumphant. “Our centuries of labor have borne fruit! WE SHALL REIGN SUPREME IN THIS NEW WORLD, AS THE GODS WE ARE!”

Oh God. Oh God no.

“But for now…” my master says teasingly, prompting everyone to quiet down. “We should celebrate our reunion.”

“How so?” Anna Marie asks.

“I chose this particular region as our headquarters for a reason when I was rebuilding my financial assets. Our neighbors out here are spaced out quit far and few between. Most of them are farmers, with nice, healthy families, plenty of livestock, and of course, only a landline to call for help with,” my master says, his wicked grin becoming contagious. “So, my friends. Fancy a drink?”

---

The following car ride is uncomfortable. Master and Ann Marie are up in the front, while I’m sandwiched between Paul and Joseph in the back seat. Joseph is mostly off in his own head, but after a few minutes, Paul tries to make conversation.

“So,” Paul says, looking at me. “New fledgling, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, not really sure how to make conversation under the circumstances. Social isolation and bullying didn’t really prepare me for making conversation with a member of what I’m beginning to realize is the vampiric answer to the Slaughterhouse Nine, while en route to a brutal murder.

“That’s cool,” he says, almost seeming nostalgic. “I remember my fledgling days. This going to be your first murder party?”

“Yes,” I squeak out, feeling sick to my stomach.

“You want my advice, you should probably try and get your first kill in,” he says, friendly as can be. “The first time’s always hard. I still remember mine. But you’re going to have to kill someone sooner or later, and trust me, you do not want to freeze up in the field. So, like, you don’t have to be totally into it, but try to take advantage of the party. It’s a safe environment, well, I mean, for you, and not the poor saps we’re killing. You should take advantage of that. Get outside your comfort zone a little. Pop your murder cherry.”

I furiously blush.

“I’ll think about it,” I finally say, and he doesn’t push the matter any further. And so ends what was the most painfully awkward conversation of my entire life, on multiple levels.

“Joseph,” my master says. “In which house would we be most likely to cause a Trigger Event?”

Joseph looks up from where he was doodling on the window in crayon. “’neath bloodred shingles, the hook will land, and the whale will make a merry catch.”

“Thank you, Joseph,” my Master says.

“Trigger Event?” Anna-Marie repeats, curious.

“The mechanism by which the ‘parahumans’ of this world gain their powers,” he explains. “When the humans of this world are placed under sufficient psychological stress, they manifest superhuman abilities. I rather thought that we should try to get a look at the process. Who knows? We might get a proper ghoul out of this, and what better ghoul than one with powers all his own?”

“So, you’re telling me that, in this world, we can get ghouls with unique powers if we traumatize them enough?” Anna-Marie asks.

“Essentially.”

“Score!”

Paul actually looks a bit troubled at that.

---

“All right,” my master says. We’re sitting in the car, on the driveway of a farmhouse with red shingles. “Taylor, stick with me. Everyone else, do as you please. Just remember, no witnesses, and no calls for help.”

And then we’re out of the car and heading for the farmhouse. Joseph splits off towards the barn, while Paul vanishes once I take my eyes off him.

My Master kicks down the door, and Anna-Marie follows him inside.

I don’t follow them in. I hear a scream, and a gunshot, and the tearing of flesh.

I could run. Just… run away. Until the sun rose, and I died before I became like him.

“You should probably go inside,” Paul says.

I jump.

“Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his nightmarish mien seeming almost comical as he rubs the back of his head in embarrassment. “Just… Look. Wiglaf’s a bit of a control freak. He’ll want you to help him with… whatever he’s planning. But, once that’s over, we can just hang out in the car, you know? Maybe play some music on the radio. You won’t have to take part in this beyond that.”

I blink. “I thought that this was your kind of thing.”

“Well, I mean, the killing and the vandalism is cool by me, but…” he shrugs. “I don’t really like playing mind games with people. Reminds me a bit too much of some stuff from when I was in high school. So, you want to join me in the car once Wiglaf’s done reenacting the plot of Saw or whatever?”

I… I nod. “Sure.” Then, I turn back to the house. Best to get this over with.

I step through the splintered doorframe, and follow the trail of destruction up the stairs to the second floor, gingerly stepping around two exsanguinated corpses, a man and a woman, the mangled remains of a shotgun still firmly clenched in the man’s hand.

My master nods as I join him. He’s sitting in a rocking chair, flipping through the pages of a family phot album with his bloodstained hands. “Child. So good of you to join us. You will take the child on the right and execute him if I command it. It is time for you to break yourself free of your ridiculous moral objections to killing.”

“I-“

“Fine. I will deal with it myself. Simply watch and remain silent.”

I… I look him in the eye. He’s measuring me. Judging me. And if he finds me wanting…

I can’t die here. I need to live. I need to live so I can kill him.

I watch, and wait, as Anna Marie, her hands shaped into claws, leads out three boys, the oldest of whom is thirteen as most.

“Matthew, Luke, and John,” my master says warmly. “It’s so very good to see you boys. I’ve already heard quite a great deal about you.”

“Y-you have?” the oldest, who I think is Matthew, says, stepping between my master and his younger brothers.

“Why, yes! Why did you think that we came here and killed your parents?” my master says, smiling. “We heard quite a bit about you, and I decided that we simply had to have one of you join us!”

“I…” Matthew freezes up, then looks at Anna-Marie’s claws. “I- alright, we’ll join you!”

“No, you misunderstand, Matthew,” my master says, still smiling. “We want one of you to join us.” He closes the photo album, and then gets up, making his way past Matthew, and putting his hand on the shoulder of the boy in the middle, a round-faced blond child with glasses, and maybe ten years of age. “Now, Luke, I need you to be very brave for me, okay?”

Luke nods, his face pale.

“I need you to decide which of your brothers will live.”

The youngest starts crying, as Luke freezes up.

“Luke, look at me!” Matthew shouts. He’s crying now, too, but he clenches his jaw and keeps talking. “Pick John.”

“NO!” John shouts. “I don’t want to-“

“It’s my job to look after-“

“I CAN’T!” Luke screams, tears running down his face. “I can’t.”

“Ah!” my master says, a smile playing across his face. “I see!” And then he starts laughing. “You pass!”

Luke’s tears stop, and he looks up at my master with hope dawning on his face. “I do?”

“You do!” my master says jovially, before turning to Anna-Marie. “Kill them both.”

With a flick of her claws, she slits both Matthew and John open, their innards spraying onto Luke.

“I knew you had it in you, kid!” my master says, slapping him on the back as Luke stares in silent horror at his dying brothers. “I’m so proud!”

“I… you said I passed!” Luke shouts.

“Yeah! Your entrance exam! You passed with flying colors!”

“What, no, I-“

“When it came down to it, you chose to sacrifice both your brothers, just so you could stay alive!” my master says, as I watch on in silent horror. “You really are one of us.”

Luke screams.

DESTINATION.

TRAJECTORY.

AGREEMENT.

And then he collapses, unconscious.

“Well, then,” my master says, dropping the cheerful affect entirely. “I would say we have our successful proof of concept. Anna-Marie, hold him steady while I addict him to the blood. Taylor, you’re free to go. I hope you’ve learned something from all this.”

I walk out to the car and get in before I start crying. Paul puts his hand on my shoulder, and I sob in the silence.

He’s a monster.

And, a traitorous voice whispers in my mind, how many centuries will it take before you become just like him?

 

My master and I returned to our haven once the… “murder party” is over. Paul gave me his number and told me to call if I ever needed a hand.

The next evening, I awaken to find my Master waiting for me to rise.

“Taylor.” He gives me a nod of acknowledgement. “I do believe that I have taught you a great deal.”

He seems to be looking for an answer, so I give him one. “Yes, my master.”

“Now that I have taught you the path to power, the question presents itself: What do you plan to do with it?” Oh, joy, it’s another morality lesson. “Besides betraying and diablerizing me, of course?”

“I-“ My brain then catches up to the last part of what he said. “I- I would never, my lord!” Shit, can he read my thoughts? Is that a thing vampires can do?

“Oh, relax, I’m not going to kill you,” my master says. “Every other vampire I’ve ever sired has tried to diablerize me. I’d be a fool if I didn’t expect it by this point. In any case, you are and will continue to be a valuable agent, at least until you inevitably betray me. I see no reason to jeopardize our working relationship over something as petty as you wanting to kill me.”

I blink. “You’re not upset about that?”

“Why would I be? I diablerized my sire. Turnabout is fair play so far as I’m concerned.”

“But… If I win, you’ll die.”

“Well, first off, you won’t win. I am over a millennium your senior, and I have used every last second of my unspeakably long life to improve myself and advance my plans. If, after all that time and effort, I should lose to a months-old fledgling?” He laughs. “I think I should prefer diablerization to living with the shame of such a loss. And regardless, if that should happen, you will have proven yourself strong enough to match a vampire eons your senior, months, or perhaps years, after your Embrace. I can think of no one who would be worthier to succeed me.”

I… I don’t even know how to respond to that.

“But regardless, thanks to me, you have power. This begs the question: What will you do with it?”

“I’ll…” I stop. I wanted to be a superhero, when I was younger. I wanted to make the world a better place. Do I still want to?

Yes. Even if the bullying, and my Embrace might have made things harder on that front, I still want to help people, and make this city a better place. “I’ll be a hero.”

He looks at me for a moment, and then bursts out laughing. “An excellent jest, childe! Truly, I haven’t laughed like this in years! If I had not Embraced you, you might have had a promising future as a comedian!”

“I’m serious!” I snap.

He hits me with a furious backhand that makes my teeth rattle, sending me straight to the floor.

“Disgusting,” he says with a snarl. “I had truly thought better of you than that. You would be so ungrateful as to waste the power I have given you so? To throw it all away as nothing more than another guard dog of the city, chasing your own tail at the behest of insects unfit to lick your boots as the world crumbles about you?”

“I care about this city!” I snap. “And I want to make it better!”

“THEN DO SO!” He roars. “Grow strong and take this city for your own. If the law is weak, make your own! If the people wither, command them! Guide them to your future, to enact your vision! And if criminals dare raise their hands against you, CUT THEM DOWN! That is the true way of a Lasombra! Your power is absolute, and so must be your control! If you wish to better the lives of the livestock, to make this city clean, then do so. But no childe of mine will ever end up as just another ponce in tights.”

I look up at him, and then I say what’s been in my heart since that first night. “I’m going to kill you. And then I’m going to fix my city and use your powers for good.”

He snorts. “In time, dear childe, I believe that you will discover the truth, as I once did: There is no good and evil. Only power, and those afraid to seek it.”

I look at him in confusion. “Isn’t that from Harry Potter?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Some philosopher native to your dimension, I presume?”

Oh my God. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Hm. Are his writings popular?”

“You could say that,” I tell him, desperately struggling to keep a straight face.

“Well, I suppose great minds do think alike, after all.” He shakes his head. “In any case, I have taught you a great deal, would you not agree?”

“Yes, my Master.” Time to set aside my plans of rebellion for the moment, and play along with him.

“Normally, Sabbat fledglings are not permitted nearly so much direct instruction as I have given you, you know. Simply tossed out into the fray and let the luck of the draw decide whether they should rise in station within the Sabbat.” He looks at me over his steepled fingers. “I do not believe that the tradition of the trial by fire should be neglected, regardless of your unique circumstances, or the effort I have put into training you.”

“I see.”

“Of course you do. I picked you in no small part thanks to your intellect, after all. Are you familiar with the local circumstances? Particularly as it regards the parahuman infestation?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Splendid. Recite what you know.”

“There are three gangs in Brockton Bay. The Empire 88, Neo-Nazis that are led by a ferrokinetic named Kaiser, who have the most capes of any gang. The Azn Bad Boys, led by Lung, who is… Lung. And the Merchants, a band of junkies led by Skidmark.”

“You neglected to make mention of Coil or Faultline,” my master says. “But I suppose your knowledge, while rudimentary, is sufficient for the task at hand. As you are aware, parahumans, while quite useful if blood bonded and taught to serve their proper masters, are naturally destructive, quarrelsome sorts, whose continued presence is detrimental to conducting the affairs of any proper society.” Translation: They might object to vampires trying to conquer the world, and I’m kind of butt-hurt that they get to have superpowers and a tan. “Their very presence brings destruction, and from my observations, I can safely say that, if they were left without being brought to heel, they would lead to the breakdown of any human society.” He snorts. “Although that can be attributed as much to the inherent follies of democracy as the children in tights running about and setting things on fire.”

I nod politely, and silently pray that this doesn’t become one of his rants.

“Thus, for the good of mortals, vampires, and even those poor, misbegotten parahumans, cursed with powers they lack the intelligence or competence to use properly, we must bring the parahumans into their proper place in society as our… servants. Those who cannot be incorporated must be killed.”

I’m not even surprised by this point. Every time he opens his mouth, these nights, I'm always bracing myself for the next big dramatic pronouncement of our inevitable rule.

“This brings me to your initiation ritual. The task you must complete in order to win full-fledged status as a member of the New Black Hand of the Sabbat.” He looks me dead in the eye. "While you may reach out to my packmates to attempt to secure their aid in this task, know that I will not aid you in any way, nor may you shelter beneath my roof."

“By the end of this week, you will kill Kaiser, or die trying."

 

It took me a while to find a payphone, after my master kicked me out of his haven so that I might “better prove my merit.”

So, here I am, staring at the phone. I check the number on the card Paul handed to me after the murder party.

Well, monstrous looks or not, he was easily the friendliest of my sire’s packmates. And the only one who left me with any means to contact him, and a standing invitation to call if I needed help. Still… I’m not sure I trust him. He might act friendly to me, but he’s a member of the Sabbat. No one who calls themselves a Sabbat vampire can really be called a good person.

Well, except for me, obviously.

Still, he’s the only helping hand I have to take, and I’m going to need a place to stay during the day. So, taking a deep breath, (not that I need to breath anymore, but it’s a good habit to stay in, since I still need air to talk) I pull the phone off its cradle, dial in the number Paul gave me, and then feed my money into the coin slot.

Paul answers on the second ring. “Hello, you’ve reached Paul Atwood. If this is a telemarketer, then be warned: I have a specific set of skills which makes me a nightmare for people like you. If you propose to waste my valuable time with your bullshit, then know this: I will hunt for you. I will find you. And I will kill you, slowly and painfully, in ways you never even knew were possible. But you will. Believe you me, you will.”

I take a moment to find my voice, because holy shit, and then speak up. “Hey Paul, this is Taylor. We met at that party. I was wondering if I could stay at your place for a little while. My landlord kicked me out until I can do a job for him, and-“

“Oh, Taylor!” he says, suddenly jovial. “Say no more. Su casa es mi casa, sister! Where are you calling from, you want me to give you a lift?”

“Well, if you’re willing,” I say, before rattling off the address.

“Well I’ll be right over, Taylor,” he says, before pausing. “Um, just in advance, there’s another mutual friend crashing at my place, and he’s a bit… unable to take care of himself, so if you could help me, that would be a huge favor.”

“I’d be happy to,” I assure him warmly, not exactly sure what he means, but, to be honest, it sounds like a worthy cause.

“Great, I’ll be right on over.”

---​

The SUV’s windows are tinted, probably to keep anyone from seeing the driver. Said driver turns to me as he pulls to a stop in front of a red light.

“So,” Paul says, drumming his talon-like fingers on the wheel. “Who’re you supposed to kill?”

“How did you-“

“Look, the Sabbat is an oligarchy, not a monarchy. Wiglaf doesn’t control who’s part of the Black Hand. He ran your trial by us, and we okayed it.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense.” I fall silent for a few moments, trying to decide if I should tell him. “Kaiser. He wants me to kill Kaiser.”

“The Nazi?” Paul whistles as the light turns green and the car once more goes into motion. “Hell of a way to get your feet wet. I’ll give you what help I can, even if I can’t go with you. You know how to shoot a gun? Throw a punch? Use a sword or a bat?”

“Uh, no,” I say. “He says that guns are for weaklings, actually.”

“Well, yeah, of course he does,” Paul says with a laugh. “Wiglaf’s old as hell! Like, Early Middle Ages old. As far as I know, he’s still irritated about the Kine inventing gunpowder. Trust me, Wiglaf’s smart, sure, but he doesn’t know everything.”

I blink. “Well, then, how old are you?” I hadn’t really considered how old my master might be. How old I might become. Now, though, I’m beginning to wonder.

“Eighty-eight years old,” he replies without hesitation. “I got Embraced during the 50s.” He pulls into a parking garage, parks the car, and then turns to look at me. “And the funny thing is, I’m actually the youngest pack member. I’ll be second youngest if you make the cut. So, trust me, I get what it’s like, being the new kid on the block.”

I look away. “Well, thanks.”

There’s something fundamentally depressing about the fact that the vampiric death cult bent on taking over the world is still friendlier and more inclusive than Winslow.

“Hey, it’s the least I could do. Maybe the next time we’re entertaining a Black Hand candidate, we can show ‘em the ropes together,” he says with a genuine smile.

“I think I’d like that.”

“So, um, we’re going to get out and go on foot, I’ll Obfuscate to look normal, so nobody notices all of, well, this,” he gestures at his twisted, inhuman countenance. “That way, they won’t be able to track us to my lair from my car.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” I ask.

“The authorities. Trust me, going around in the age of cell phones looking like I do, you learn pretty fast how to get by surveillance unseen, or else you end up dusted by some hunter who just figured out social media.” He drums his hands on the wheel. “Okay, you know what I said about I already had a friend over when we talked on the phone?”

“Yes?”

“That was code for… um, well, I’m Malk-sitting this week, so Joseph is staying with me. While you’re staying over, I’m going to need you to help me wrangle him.”

“Malk-sitting?”

“Well, you know how Malkavians are, and…” he sees the look on my face and stops. “You... don’t know how Malkavians are.”

“I don’t even know what a Malkavian is.”

“Okay, well, fuck. So, Wiglaf didn’t tell you about the clans.” He seems to think for a moment. “Did he tell you how to Embrace Kine?”

“No.”

“How about ghouls, did he tell you about ghouls?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you where vampires come from?”

“No.”

“God dammit, Wiglaf.” Paul pinches the bridge of his nose, and sighs. “Alright, so, the clans are kind of like the various vampire species. You’re a Lasombra, which means you don’t cast a shadow or show up in recordings, you’ve got super strength, you can do weird shadowy shit, and you can fuck with people’s minds. I’m a Nosferatu, which is why I’m ugly as sin. It also lets me to cool stuff like talking to animals, benching trucks, or turning invisible.” He looks over at me. “You get all of this?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Honestly, Wiglaf should have told you all of this, but he’s not all that great a teacher. Now, a Malkavian, like Joseph, is insane. They can pull off disappearing acts, see things they shouldn’t, and, of course, infect other people with their insanity.”

“That’s-“

“Absolutely terrifying, yeah. It’s why we need to have someone keep an eye on Joseph. If we don’t, well…” Paul’s seems to be staring at some faraway place for a moment, before snapping back to the present. “We don’t need a third maternity ward massacre.”

“Third?”

“Be very glad you weren’t there for the first two,” Paul says with a sigh. “Now, if at any point, what he’s saying starts to make sense to you, leave the conversation and take a minute to recenter your head. His mastery of the Dementation Discipline is so strong that he does it automatically. If you don’t get out of there, well… Trust me, you will wake up the next night covered in blood and with no idea of what just happened, aside from a crippling sense of regret.”

“Why haven’t you killed him?” I ask, utterly horrified.

“Because I can’t. And trust me, I’ve tried. Never anything direct, because he’s strong enough to rip me to shreds if I tried anything obvious, but he has a remarkable gift for surviving what should have been a successful Uriah Gambit.” He shakes his head. “Now enough gabbing. Let’s get walking already.”

---​

Paul’s Haven is nothing special. Just a warehouse with a sturdy concrete basement.

It’s when we enter that I see Joseph. He’s sitting on the concrete floor in front of an old TV, watching what I think is a Teletubbies marathon.

He turns to look at us, his face drawn in manic, furious intensity. “Paulinus.”

“Yeah, Joseph?”

“He has spoken to me once more.”

Paul swears under his breath, and then forces a grin. “Well, what does the J-man want us to do tonight?”

“Jesus has spoken to me, His holy words of love pouring forth from the fractals within the insipid babble of these televised abominations!” Joseph’s face lights up. “We must do His holy work, once more! We must journey to Brockton General, and find the one known as Panacea, that by my good counsel she might tread the righteous path once more!”

“So… you don’t want to slaughter newborns?”

“No. While the Lord loves all children, and desires that their pure souls should be dispatched to dwell with him in love for all eternity, doing so is secondary to my primary mission. There is a great potential for good in that girl, and an even greater potential for evil. Dire visions spur me forward. She must be redeemed, her soul purified, and her burdens lifted, and then killed, that her soul may shed her mortal shell and dwell in Heaven with Jesus forevermore!”

“Well, that’s an… idea,” Paul says, his smile growing even more pained. “But don’t you remember? We all agreed to hold off on killing until Taylor finished her initiation and killed Kaiser.”

Joseph rises to his feet, and then marches towards me, seizing me by the shoulders. “Is this true?”

“I mean, yes?” I say, really, really, hoping that he’s not going to just kill me flat-out.

And then he sinks to his knees before me. “Please, child, I must beg you to reconsider.”

“What?”

“To kill a man is no great infraction for such damned beasts as we. We are forever barred from God’s grace, damned to live in this unclean material plane, shadows in the night. But this man, this Kaiser, is not yet forsaken, although he strays from Jesus' love and walks the path of sin! He may grow, and find redemption, and the promise of Heaven! To kill him now would be to forever damn his soul to Hell, and that is a terrible thing indeed. Please, reconsider, so we might guide him out of sin, and into virtue!”

And in that moment, I understand Joseph, in a way that Paul could never convey to me. He doesn’t kill out of some mad lust for violence. He kills because he thinks he's helping people. He kills because he believes, with all his heart, that by killing good people he is sending them somewhere better.

And I can use that to manipulate him.

“But Joseph, doesn’t leaving Kaiser alive simply damn more souls?” I ask. “After all, by preaching his creed of hatred, and drawing many to his cause, he corrupts the people of this city. So long as he stands, so shall the Empire Eighty-Eight, and they shall hold all the harder on to their sins if their false idol stands.” I bow my head. “To send his soul to Hell is, ultimately, the necessary evil to which we damned beasts must resort in order to enforce God’s will, is it not?”

Joseph draws back. “You speak painful truths, my lady. I must meditate upon your words, and commune with my Lord Christ through the Televised Tubbies.”

And then, when Joseph is off watching Teletubbies again, Paul turns to me.

“So, want to learn how to shoot a gun?”

“Sure,” I say, because after the night I've had, why the Hell not?

 

The night embraces me as I move through the city, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with my Potence-enhanced legs.

Tonight is the night. And Joseph told me everything I need to know.

---​

It was my third night in Paul’s Haven.

I had just returned from a hunt when Joseph approached me.

“Taylor.”

“Yes, Joseph?” I asked, wary. The Malkavian was as unhinged as they came, even if he was unfailingly polite. So far, I hadn’t seen much of him. He’d virtually disappeared since my first talk with him, brooding in front of the TV and watching Teletubbies.

“God has spoken,” he says with a degree of finality. “You will kill Kaiser, and defend God’s chosen people.”

“I, um… that’s kind of him?” I try.

“It is not a kindness. He has commanded you to damn a man’s soul to the Pit, and that is a heavy burden indeed. You shall be His Sword, bringing righteous vengeance upon those that have earned His wrath,” Joseph says, his tone grim as he looks me straight in the eye. “I do not envy you this dreadful responsibility, though I will aid you as I may whilst you wreak the vengeance of the Lord. The one known as Kaiser’s true name is Maximillian Anders. He is the CEO of Medhall. Tomorrow night, he will be working late…”

He told me everything. Kaiser’s entire schedule tomorrow night. The floor plan of Medhall. He even told me about Kaiser’s turnip allergy, and the precise mechanics of how his powers worked (although I didn’t really understand much of the last part.)

And then, while I was staring at him slack-jawed, he politely asked if I wanted him to repeat it.

---​

Right, time to consult the Clipboard of Fate^TM.

Okay, according to the schedule Joseph gave me, Kaiser is going to be heading downstairs to react to the crisis at Brockton General two minutes and forty-five seconds from now.

I get myself into position, and, calling upon my Obteneration, flood the alley outside the stairwell in impenetrable shadows.

Then, I start the timer.

It beeps exactly when Joseph said it would, as the door leading into the alley swings open and Kaiser, in full armor, emerges.

“What-“

“Max Anders,” I say, unseen within the depths of the darkness I’ve created, even as I seize hold of the shadows within Kaiser’s own armor. “I find your lack of tolerance… disturbing.”
Blades lash out, but he can’t see me through the darkness. And so, Kaiser dies. Strangled to death by the darkness in a filthy back alley.

That was… I blink.

That was actually easy! No wonder the others have kept Joseph around for so long. Thanks to him, I knew literally everything that was going to happen!

And thanks to him, I know that no one will come upon Kaiser’s body down here for two more hours. Which means that I can quit the scene without anyone even knowing that I exist.

I just successfully got away with murder!

…I just successfully got away with murder.

I… I look down at Kaiser’s now-cooling corpse. He was a terrible person. But I killed him. I killed him.

But… I guess Joseph’s right. It had to be done. Why else would I not feel guilty about killing him in the slightest?

I growl and kick his corpse. He was a parasite, glutting himself on the life of this city. I’m glad he’s dead.

Now then, time to return to Paul’s Haven and wait for my master to recall me to his side.

I make my way back up to the rooftops and look out over the city. My city.

That’s when I see Armsmaster, roaring down a street on his motorbike, driving downtown like the devil was on his heels.

I blink. Huh. I guess there must have been some kind of supervillain incident.

Then, I pull out the Clipboard, as a thought strikes me. Yes, there it is. “At 9:05:32 PM, Kaiser will leave his office and change into his costume, to lead the Empire’s response to the crisis at Brockton General…”

I suppose that must be what Armsmaster is responding to.

I blink. Wait. I have powers, too! I could maybe… possibly… do something?

It would probably piss my sire off to no end.

Okay, definitely going there to help out!

I spring from rooftop to rooftop, before I stop and consult the Clipboard again. I definitely remember Joseph saying something else about Brockton General, too. I can’t find anything describing what the crisis at Brockton General is.

Still, I know he said something about it. What was it….

---​

I stood at Paul’s side, staring at the pale-skinned madman.

“Jesus has spoken to me, His holy words of love pouring forth from the fractals within the insipid babble of these televised abominations!” Joseph’s face lit up as he spoke of his divine revelation. “We must do His holy work, once more! We must journey to Brockton General, and find the one known as Panacea, that by my good counsel she might tread the righteous path once more!”

“So… you don’t want to slaughter newborns?” Pail asked, sounding relieved.

“No. While the Lord loves all children, and desires that their pure souls dwell with him in love for all eternity, doing so is secondary to my primary mission. There is a great potential for good in that girl, and an even greater potential for evil. Dire visions spur me forward. She must be redeemed, her soul purified, and her burdens lifted, and then killed, that her soul may shed her mortal shell and dwell in Heaven with Jesus forevermore!”

“Well, that’s an… idea,” Paul said, his smile growing even more pained. “But don’t you remember? We all agreed to hold off on killing until Taylor finished her initiation and killed Kaiser.”

---​

I turn, slowly, back towards the alleyway I killed Kaiser in, and then towards the clipboard in my hand, in which Joseph had painstakingly documented the future, down to the last second.

Then, my heart sinking in my chest, I turn back towards Brockton General.

“Fuck.”

I jump to the next rooftop, racing as fast as I can towards Brockton General.

“OhfuckohfuckohfuckOHFUCK!” I scream as I jump from roof to roof.

Joseph is going to kill Panacea. And it’s all my fault.

 

I make my way through the halls of Brockton General. I’ve already been in here working nonstop since I came from school, a full six hours ago.

“Who’s next?” I ask my attendant nurse.

And then I blink.

“Robert Wiley, the next room over,” the man who is most definitely not my usual attendant nurse says without consulting his clipboard. He looks more like a Sunday School teacher than a doctor. He’s broad-shouldered and sturdy, with swarthy skin that seems… strangely pale. His black hair is curly, and he has a bit of a five o’clock shadow. I’d peg him as Middle Eastern if it wasn’t for the strange paleness of his flesh. And under his white lab coat, he’s wearing a white T-shirt marked with a black cross. “Car accident. He’s suffering from extreme internal bleeding and has shards of metal lodged in his abdomen. He’ll die thirteen minutes from now if you don’t intervene.”

I focus. People need my help; I shouldn’t waste time questioning personnel changes.

I enter the indicated room, and begin healing my newest patient, suppressing the urge to make any sort of improvements. While I do so, my new handler watches me with a perfectly normal intensity, as if staring at something unseen. But then, doesn’t everyone?

Then, he leads me on to the next room, and the next, and the next.

My handler keeps on watching me, which makes sense. I’m a superhero who’s saving lives, after all.

“What’s your name?” I ask, as we’re making our way to the third room since he replaced my usual attendant.

“Josephus of Cana,” he says completely straight-faced.

“Seriously?” I look at him askance. “Don’t you have a middle or last name?”

Something about him seems… off. And it’s been bothering me for the past twenty minutes, in spite of his seeming normality. I’m probably being paranoid, but still, I should probably try to figure out just what about him is setting me on edge.

“I do,” Josephus says, stone faced. “I also have a middle name, of.”

“Of what?” I ask. I cure my next patient’s near-fatal case of HIV on autopilot as I ponder the mystery of my newest shadow.

After I’m done telling the patient about how much he should be eating during his recovery, Josephus deigns to give me an answer. “My middle name is Of.”

I snicker. “Seriously?”

“I’m a serious fellow by preference, I’m afraid,” he says with a self-deprecating smile. “I’m in a serious line of work, after all.”

“And that would be?” I ask, as we make our way to the next patient. The lab coat is covering his arms, and he’s wearing surgical gloves over his hands. Long pants, too. I’d have to touch his face to get a glimpse of his biology, and lay my paranoia to rest. Why am I doing this, though? It’s an invasion of privacy and it goes against my own code. It’s almost as if something is manipulating my mind to make me more suspicious of Josephus than is normal.

Wait, what would be a normal level of suspicion? And how would I know how suspicious I should be of Josephus? That…

“Panacea?” Josephus asks. “Are you well?”

I blink.

“We’re at the next patient’s room, and you’ve just been staring at me.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling appropriately sheepish. “I’m sorry about that.”

I try not to blush in embarrassment, extremely thankful for the scarf covering my face. I launch into healing my next patient, even as I wonder, what the Hell I was thinking? I was so close to intentionally breaking one of my rules and violating the privacy of someone whose worst sin thus far has been possibly being a creepy fanboy!

And, I think, as I give the new patient his post-healing dietary instructions, now that he noticed me staring at him, he’s probably going to think that I have a crush on him. Ew.

Well, let’s just hope that he doesn’t try and reciprocate whatever interest he thinks I’m showing in him. Turning people down without explaining that I’m not into men, and that I only have eyes for Vicky is always awkward.

But maybe I should try explaining that. Homosexuality isn’t that big a deal these days, thanks to that wonderful Legend fellow, and getting defensive over the way God made me is just silly. I should be free to love who I want to love, no matter what the hate-mongers and the insecure might say.

Yeah. Being gay isn’t that big a deal, sure, but most people would probably look at me askance if they found out I want to fuck my own sister. Vicky included.

Wait, Vicky is my sister? I have an incestuous crush on my sister?

Obviously, I’ve been in love with her since I was-

…

Hold on.

That was a weird thing for me to think, all of a sudden. Especially since I already know that I’m in love with Vicky. Why… exactly… would those words come up in my head, especially since-

“Panacea.” My train of thought derails as I look at Josephus, startled. “Are you feeling alright? We’re at the patient’s room.”

Oh, God, while I’ve been staring off into space and thinking about how I want to know my sister, people’s lives were in danger!

I enter the patient’s room, and begin trying to make up for lost time, feeling terrible while I do so.

Carol’s right about me. I really am a villain in the making.

Once the healing is done, we head back out into the hallway, en route to my next patient.

“Er, Ms. Dallon,” Josephus says awkwardly, not looking directly at me. “I can’t help but notice that you keep staring at me, and-“

“I-I’m not!” I stammer out, just wishing I could curl up and die in a hole. Oh, God, he thinks I’m interested in him, and it’s only because I was thinking about violating his privacy and breaking my own rules, because I’m a terrible, terrible person who’s going to turn into the next Nilbog, and people probably died because I couldn’t stop thinking about my horrible, horrible crush on my own sister, and-

Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. I don’t think he hates me.

“It’s fine, Ms. Dallon,” he says, and he smiles. “I’m flattered by the attention. All the same, I’m a man of God, sworn to celibacy, and as such…”

“Could we… not talk about that?” I beg, focusing back in on the conversation. We’re walking. I should think about that, and not how I’m the absolute worst. Yeah, walking feels like a safe subject for thought.

“Very well.”

“So, you’re a priest?” I ask, not wanting to get lost in my thoughts, even as my previous curiosity reignites inside me.

“Of a sort. I try not to define myself behind a title,” he shrugs. “I simply try my best to provide comfort to those that have lost their way and guide them back onto a more righteous path. To fix what’s broken and help send people onto their way into the Kingdom of Heaven.”

“So, you administer last rites,” I summarize.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” he says, humming a melody I don’t quite recognize. “Although there’s been a reduced demand for those of late, almost entirely thanks to you.”

“Yeah,” I say, bracing myself for another empty ‘thank you.’ Well, of course he’d thank me! I’ve saved people’s lives! That’s something to be proud of.

“Mostly, I see people off when they die,” he says. “But, well, sometimes, I notice that somebody’s hurting, and I try to help them feel better. Because nobody should have to suffer, or become so twisted that they can’t feel joy from making the world a better place.”

“What?” I ask. How did he know? He probably doesn’t, though. He might just be speaking generally.

“Well, people feel good when they do good,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve always thought of it as God’s way of telling the righteous that they’re on the right track.”

“An awfully simplistic way of thinking of things, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes,” he shrugs, and then almost seems to look at me, or through me, at something else. “The ways of the Devil are many. He beguiles with pleasure, making people delight in their own self destruction, and in hurting others. I utterly hate that. People shouldn’t be rewarded, or feel better for violence and hurting people. They should fulfil their purpose.”

“Which is?” I ask, feeling… something. Almost like some sort of force is passing through me, and into some one or something else.

“To help their fellow thinking creatures, no matter their shape and size,” Josephus says with a smile. “Isn’t that just so much better than fighting?”

“I guess?” I feel, all at once, like a weight on my temple just lightened, as if I’ve recovered from a headache I didn’t even know I was having.

“That’s great!” he says, all smiles once more. There was something wrong about what just happened, even though I can’t really put my finger on it.

“So, um, where is my next patient?” I ask.

“Oh, right, yes!” he says. “This way, this way. We’re just in the nick of time.”

“Ames?” I turn, and there’s Vicky, sweet, wonderful Vicky, floating towards me down the corridor. “What are you doing here? You haven’t been answering your calls, and the desk attendant told me you gave your attendant the slip an hour ago! You worried the hell out of me!”

I blink, and then feel for my phone. It’s gone. I probably dropped it a while back. But how would I do that? It’s inside one of the deepest pockets in my robe! And…

I look at Josephus, who looks back at me, resigned.

“Vicky, drop him, he’s a Master!”

My sister doesn’t even hesitate. She punches him through a wall.

“Did he do anything? Are you okay?” she picks me up, and looks me over, her beautiful, beautiful face filled with concern.

“I’m fine. Better even, now that you’re here,” I say, smiling, Even though she doesn’t feel the same way about you, and would probably be disturbed if she knew about your incredibly unhealthy incestuous crush on her. I blanche. “Vicky, he’s still-“

“There are spiders and other unpleasant insects crawling all over you, and attempting to crawl into your womanhood to eat your eggs,” Josephus says, stepping out through the broken wall. “I recommend Raid.”

Vicky screams, flying and tearing at her clothing as Josephus stalks towards me.

I pull the nearest fire alarm, just before he pins me to the wall with inhuman speed.

“I tried to save your soul the easy way,” he says, sounding more irritating than angry. “I tried to be gentle. Hard way it is.”

He’s inside my mind, and-

---​

I am at a nice table, in a field beneath the clear blue sky. There is tea.

I look at the me across the table from me.

“Who are you?” One of me asks.

“I’m the old Amy,” the other me says. I’m not sure which one I am.

“And I’m the new Amy,” the first says.

They turn to me as one. “Which one are you?”

I sip my tea. And then I shoot Old Amy in the head. Her red blood and gray brains pour out from the wound, and I realize at once that she is the tea, and she always was. I drink deep of my mug, and consume her, that she might enrich me, and never live again.

“You killed me,” New Amy says.

“She was me too.” I say, as I drink my sweet, delicious brain tea. “And I was miserable when I was her. Will I be miserable as you too?”

“I don’t think so,” New Amy says after a moment. “I’m a much better person than she was. I don’t need those rules to want to do the right thing, or want to help people.”

I finish my tea, and the world dissolves.

---​

I wake up to find Victoria, dear sweet Victoria, and, oh, am I in the hospital? I smile, and joy wells up within my heart. SO MANY PEOPLE TO HELP! Oh, I can HARDLY WAIT!

“Amy? Are you all right?”

“Never better.” And then I laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

I think that this is going to be a very good day indeed.

 

I dial Paul on the burner phone he gave me (over my objections) as I jump from roof to roof.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Paul, this is Taylor. This conversation is private, right?”

“I mean, it’s a burner, so, more or less.”

“Good. Where is Joseph right now?” I jump over an intersection, and roll as I land on the opposite side.

“He’s in front of… the … TV… oh, motherFUCKER!”

“I just killed Kaiser thanks to intel he gave me. I think he’s going after Panacea.”

“Oh, shit. He’s going to bring down so much heat on our asses!” Paul pauses. “Where is he?”

“Brockton General Hospital. I’m almost there.”

“Get him out, I’ll drive and pick you up.”

I hang up and stow my phone in my pocket as Brockton General comes into view.

The blocky building is surrounded by police, who’ve cordoned off the building while patients and staff are evacuating. Armsmaster is in front, wading through the crowd, talking to the police officers who’ve already showed up, attempting to coordinate a response, I think.

An idea springs into my head, and I call Paul again. “Hey, just giving you advanced notice: I’m going to go in with the heroes, pass myself off as another parahuman.”

“Fine. Just, whatever you do, don’t tip them off that we’re vampires. Once they know that much, they’ll both know that we’re their natural predators, and they’ll know our greatest weakness. And once humans realize they aren’t on top of the food chain, they tend to act to correct that.”

“Our greatest weakness?” I ask, amused.

“Remember that thing about how we burn alive in the sun? And we have to sleep during the day?” he asks, irritated. “We might be stronger than them, but they can be active at any hour of the day, and they currently outnumber us six billion to five. No amount of Disciplines or minions will save you from a hunter that knows where you sleep.”

“Okay! I’ll do my best to keep them from finding out.” I… really hadn’t thought about that. No wonder my master doesn’t want to rule openly.

I hang up, and stow my phone in my pocket, shaken. Before now, I hadn’t realized how helpless I really was, how powerless I would be if someone came after me during the day.

Paul is right, Armsmaster and the Protectorate can’t be allowed to find out.

I jump down and make my way towards Armsmaster.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

He turns towards me, and away from the police officer he was talking to. “There is an active Parahuman in the building. Ma’am, please continue to evacuate the area in a calm and orderly fashion. Professionals are handling the situation.”

“I’m a hero!” I say. “My name’s Lasombra!” I wince internally. I just said the first hero name that came to me. “How can I help?”

He looks straight at me. “You have powers?”

“Yes.”

He turns away. “Console, be advised: I have encountered a new independent called Lasombra, who has volunteered her aid. Given the volatile nature of the situation, and the fact that Panacea’s life might hang in the balance, I am inclined to enter the building as soon as possible, with Lasombra as backup.”

“Wait, what? I- This is my first night out!” I mean, I actually do need to get inside the hospital, but this is a team-up with Armsmaster we’re talking about! My dead heart is not ready for this!

“There’s a madman with powers loose in a hospital. Panacea and Glory Girl are both already inside, and the maternity ward hasn’t been evacuated yet,” he looks me in the eye, dead serious. “I don’t care how green you are. Right now is the time for action. We’re going in to scout the interior, aid anyone who hasn’t evacuated yet, and, most importantly, keep the intruder pinned down until backup arrives. Now, can you do that?”

“I- I- Yes.”

“Good.” He turns back towards the policeman he was talking to before. “Establish a cordon. PRT forces and other Protectorate heroes are en route, but until they get here, your job is to make sure that nobody leaves the scene. We don’t know what the killer looks like, and we don’t want them to escape from here. Letting them slip through our fingers would set a bad precedent. Understood?”

The officer nods, and starts barking orders at the other patrolmen that are showing up.

“Lasombra, you’re with me.”

I nod, and follow.

“What abilities do you possess, besides your Stranger power?” he asks, as we make our way towards the hospital.

I blink. “Stranger power?”

“You didn’t know?” he looks back towards me, or at least in my general direction. “I can’t see you. I can hear you, and I can triangulate where your voice is coming from through my suit’s auditory sensors, but I can’t see you on any of my suit’s cameras.”

“I... um, didn’t know about that, actually. I can control the shadows, and I’m really strong,” I tell him, deciding to omit my knowledge of the Dominate Discipline. “Not showing up on cameras is new to me.”

“Alright, then. Stay with me, then. Together we might be able to keep the intruder from escaping.”

I realize, with a sinking feeling, that I can’t let Joseph get captured. The PRT would discover far too much for comfort.

I’m going to have to stab him in the back if I don’t want to be outed as a vampire, and most likely killed.

I shake my head. No, no, it might not come to that. Best not to focus on the worst-case scenario.

We make our way towards the maternity ward at a brisk pace, with Armsmaster leading the way.

“Console, we haven’t seen any stragglers so far,” Armsmaster says, hand at the side of his helmet. “Approaching the maternity ward now.”

The doors to the ward have been kicked open, and as we enter, I hear a woman humming something.

We enter the incubation chamber, and look upon a charnel house. Every incubator has been split open. And every newborn occupant is dead, their dried blood dotting the walls.

There’s a woman in white robes, the hem coated in blood. She’s the one who’s been humming, as she makes her way between the damaged incubators, sticking her hand inside, and then moving on. Her back is towards us.

“Panacea?” Armsmaster asks, raising his halberd. “Why haven’t you evacuated?”

“Oh, hello Armsmaster!” Panacea says cheerfully, as she makes her way to the next broken incubator and sticks her hand inside. “It’s great to see you again! I’m just collecting biomass! Josephus already passed through and killed everyone he deemed virtuous, so if I didn’t take advantage of the situation, they’d just burn them, or bury them in the ground, and let all this perfectly good biomass go to waste!” She nods at someone unseen. “Yes, Shaper! Humans really are a silly bunch! That’s why they need our help, though, isn’t it?”

I take a nervous step back, even as Armsmaster adopts a fighting stance. “Console, we’ve found Panacea. I believe she’s been Mastered somehow.”

“No, no, no, no, not Mastered, enlightened!” she says cheerfully. “Both me and Shaper! Can you imagine, before Josephus brought us closer together, I didn’t even know that my partner existed? Oh, but what am I talking about! You’re not in contact with yours right now either!” She pauses, tilting her head to one side as she reaches the last incubator. I notice, after she sticks her hand in it, some sort of bulge making its way up her arm. “No, Shaper, we can’t give them wings, that would just be silly. And inefficient.” She pauses. “Well, I suppose it could work if we did it like that, but I’m not sure they want any.” She turns. “Armsmaster, would you like any wings?”

Armsmaster flinches, and I gasp. Her face… Her face…

“Oh, do you like what I’ve done with it?” she asks cheerfully, as she strikes a pose. “I know it’s a bit experimental, but Shaper made an excellent point! Why bother with keeping myself human-looking when I’d be a much better helper with some simple modifications? For instance, the extra eyes see in different portions of the light spectrum than the standard, and…”

“Panacea!” Armsmaster snaps, hand gripping his halberd even tighter. “Amy. I don’t know what your assailant did to you, but you’re… you’re not well. I need you to tell me what’s going on. Who did this to you? Where is Glory Girl?”

“Oh, Vicky?” Panacea says, her grotesquerie of a face furrowing in what I’m guessing is sadness from her tone. “She should be on her way back to the house, now.”

“What?” Armsmaster asks. “Why would she leave the site of a parahuman attack on civilians?”

“It was very hard to make her leave, you know,” Panacea says cheerfully, seeming to tune Armsmaster out. “I had to fiddle with her brain quite a bit. I loved her a great deal, you see. And she wanted me to stop helping people, to go back to being Old Amy, weak and miserable and lazy. I can’t be Old Amy again. I shot her in the head and drank her tea. So, I made Vicky forget I ever existed, and made sure she’d never come near me again! That way she can go and be happy with Dean, and she won’t tempt me away from my true calling!”

“Panacea,” Armsmaster says, his voice firm. “Stand down. You’re sick, and you need help.”

“I’m not sick at all, Armsmaster!” Panacea says, smiling with both of her mouths. “I’ve never felt better in my entire life! But a whole lot of other people are hurting, and I have to help them!”

“Then I have no choice but to bring you in by force.”

Something erupts out of her chest and hits Armsmaster like a cannonball, bowling him off his feet.

“Now then,” she says, gliding towards me without appearing to move her legs in the slightest. “While Armsmaster’s busy fighting off that honey badger, why don’t we talk about you?”

“What did he do to you?” I ask, as I stare at her in horror. I knew who Panacea was. Who didn’t? But to think that Josephus could twist her into this… thing…

“You’re at room temperature,” she says, still gliding towards me. “Just like Josephus. Which means, of course, that you share his… anomaly.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

“Oh, don’t worry, Armsmaster can’t hear us, he’s too busy with the honey badger,” she says, with a smile too horrific to be in any way reassuring. “It’s just us girls here. So, tell me, what’s your secret? The pale skin, the still, silent heart, the fangs?” Her face lights up. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“No, I-“

“Oof, desperate to keep a secret!” she says, her head beginning to… unwind. “Tell you what. I’ll keep your secret, but only if you let me take a sample of that miraculous blood of yours.”

“I… don’t have a choice, do I?” I say, lowering my hands.

“No, but your surrender is still sweet of you,” she says, as a lamprey-like mouth sinks its fangs into my neck, and my entire world becomes pain.

I scream, as she wraps herself around me and drinks deeply of my blood.

And then, it’s over, and stagger as she releases me.

“Oh, most excellent!” she says, wiping a dribble of my blood off of the lip of her feeding mouth. “Well, I’m off now. Experiments to conduct, people to heal.”

The honey badger melts and flows up into her arm at a touch and presses her hand against Armsmaster’s mauled and mutilated chin. “Oh, you poor dear. I’m sorry I hurt you. Here, let me make it all better!” Then, once she’s finished healing him, she heads for the door. “Good luck with Josephus!”

It takes a few minutes before Armsmaster gets back up to his feet.

“Do we go after her?’ I asks him, as I keep my hand over the slowly-healing bite wound on my neck.

“I should hope not,” Joseph’s voice says over the intercom. “After all, you’d have to leave little old me without anyone to tangle with! And who knows what I’d do then.”

Armsmaster blinks. “Nurse’s station. Front desk.” And then he’s off, smashing through the walls like they’re made of plaster.

“You see, Colin, I’ve established a little game. If you want to… wait, no, WHAT IS HE DOING?”

I race after Armsmaster as he charge towards what I can only assume to be Joseph’s position like a raging bull, letting nothing stand in his way.

“Play the game, or else I’ll shoot my hostage!” Joseph shout as Armsmaster closes in.

“False.” Armsmaster says, not even hesitating.

“Wait, I-!”

And then, Armsmaster closes in, bursting through the wall and into the lobby, where Joseph stands behind the receptionist’s desk, looking panicked.

“Monster,” Armsmaster says, his facemask descending to seal off his chin. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what blatant insanity drove you to do this. But I am giving you this one chance: Come quietly. Or come in pieces.” He turns to me. “Lasombra. Stay back. Don’t let him get past you. No matter what, this monster won’t escape, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir!” I say automatically.

“Oh, Colin, Colin, I do the work of the Lord!” Jospeh says, desperately trying to retake control of the situation. “For did not Jesus say- HOLY SHIT, LET ME FINISH!”

Armsmaster doesn’t let him finish. Instead, he lunges towards the mad vampire and stabs at him with his halberd. “In pieces it is.”

The edge of his halberd begins to roar, and- Oh my God. HE MADE HIS HALBERD A CHAINSAW?

“What kind of lunatic are you?” Joseph asks, dancing back out of range. “What kind of madman makes something like that?”

“This kind,” Armsmaster says without hesitation as charges Joseph, halberd at the ready, lunging in for a killing stroke.

“No matter,” Joseph says, deflecting the halberd with a lightning-fast punch. “A master of stealth and infiltration I may be, but my knowledge is broad, and I am well versed in the arts of the Damned.”

And so, it begins, with Joseph dancing around and deflecting Armsmaster’s blows as the Protectorate’s one and only leader advances on him, forcing him to take the defensive. And Joseph is pushed back, losing ground in the face of an inexorable juggernaut of skillful spearwork and steely determination.

“ENOUGH!” Joseph bellows. “YOU ARE A DUCK! A PACIFIST duck, at that.”

“That statement…” Armsmaster says, lunging in once more. “Is FALSE!”

“You resisted my Dementation?” Joseph asks, as his back hits the wall and he grabs the halberd by its shaft, just below the whirring blade. “WHAT ARE YOU? HOW ARE YOU THIS STRONG?”

“I’m Armsmaster of the Protectorate East-Northeast. And I became this strong because, every second of every day, I’ve spent it training, honing my body and my tech to the absolute pinnacle in order to better fight monsters like you!” Armsmaster shouts, as the halberd’s head inches slowly towards Joseph’s face. “Incineration Mode: Engage!”

And at that, the halberd’s head bursts into flames, inches from Joseph’s face. “OH, THAT IS JUST BULLSHIT!”

The doors to the lobby slam open, and I recognize Assault and Battery as they burst in and Battery tackles Joseph off of Armsmaster, while Assault helps the PRT ENE commander back up to his feet..

I blink, because something seems slightly off about that statement.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Joseph yells, as he gets back up to his feet, flaming halberd in hand. “I HAD HIM!”

“Yeah, and, bore he might be, but we’re kind of attached to the guy,” Assault says, before turning to Armsmaster. “You okay, boss?”

“Just dandy, now that you’re here, my friend and faithful subordinate,” Armsmaster says, dusting himself off. “I would have probably died if you hadn’t come in to save me. Oh, and by the way, I’ve always loved all those immature jokes you make, and you should definitely make them more often. Also, I absolutely loved that time you pranked me in my own lab. You should do that again.”

“What are you-“ Joseph freezes, his face going slack in horror. “No. NO, NO, NO, NO!”

“I told you that you should’ve waited for the rest of the team, Sir,” Dauntless says. “Facing an unknown threat single-handedly like this was reckless.”

“You were right, Dauntless,” Armsmaster says with a beatific smile. “I should’ve waited, and let you join me. You really are a better hero than me.” He chuckles. “I guess I really am getting old. Maybe it’s time I retired, passed the reins over to the younger generation.”

“YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY BELIEVE THAT THAT’S ME!” Joseph bellows. “I’M ARMSMASTER, YOU IDIOTS! YOU’RE GOING TO LET HIM GET AWAY!”

“Ignore the lunatic’s mad babbling, my friends!” Armsmaster says. “He has some sort of Master power that makes you believe wat he says, or that he is who he pretends to be, no matter how ridiculous the things he says are, or how absurdly out of character he acts! And on that note, I totally have sex with my halberd!”

“YOU BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU, YOU HEAR ME? I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Not while we’re here, scum,” Miss Militia says, firing a bright green Desert Eagle twice, directly into Joseph’s center of mass. “You okay to keep on fighting, Armsmaster?”

“No, I’m afraid not, my trusty second-in-command, who’s actually a far better leader than me,” Armsmaster says, falling to his knees. “That handsome genius of a man, absolutely destroyed me in our brief but decisive battle. He is by far my superior in melee combat, and I was a fool to engage him on my own, especially when I’m just so much weaker than the rest of you.”

Joseph gives a wordless scream of rage, and lunges towards Armsmaster, only to be pushed back by the combined might of the Protectorate.

“Go on ahead, Boss,” Miss Militia says, firing into Joseph’s chest while struggles to rise. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Much obliged,” Armsmaster says. “Lasombra? Could you help me walk to the medical tent?”

“O-Oh, sure!” I say, still faced with that nagging suspicion that something isn’t quite right.

He puts an arm over my shoulder, and I help him out. He leads me out, though the crowd, and towards a familiar pickup truck.

“Alright, you two, come on! It’s time to go!” Paul shouts.

“But- Armsmaster is right here!” I point out.

“No, he really isn’t,” Joseph says, ceasing to lean on me. “And we should definitely go, before they realize that I tricked them.” He shoots me an amused glance. “Why so shocked? I thought you’d be glad I escaped. We are on the same side, after all.”

“Yeah,” I say, crestfallen, as I get in the car. “I guess we are.”

“Now then, let’s get going!” Joseph shouts, as he gets in the passenger seat. “We have a busy night ahead of us.”

“What are you talking about?” I snap. “Wasn’t that massacre back there enough for you?”

“Hardly,” Joseph says, cracking his knuckles. “You started the job when you killed Kaiser. Now? Now we finish destroying the Empire Eighty-Eight”

 

“How?” I ask, staring at Joseph. “I mean, killing Kaiser is one thing, but the entire Empire Eighty-Eight?”

“All right, give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Do you want to kick Nazi ass or not? Because the first step towards denazifying Brockton Bay is you giving me your phone,” Joseph says, completely serious.

“Just give him the phone, Taylor,” Paul says, resigned. “He’s already on one of his manic kicks, we’re going to get dragged into his schemes no matter what we do.”

I give him a look. “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping him in check?”

“I’ve been supposed to be keeping him in check for over twenty years, Taylor. I know how this ends.”

“Yes, and it ends with you giving me your phone while Paulinus drives us to these addresses!” Joseph says, slapping a list scribbled on a torn piece of paper onto the dashboard. There’s a bloodstain on the upper right corner. “We’ve got some Nazis to hunt down!”

“I… This is insane!” I say, addressing my arguments towards Paul. “He just killed everyone in Brockton General’s maternity ward!”

“Not everyone,” Joseph says. “Quite a few of the adults there were a bit too sinful for me to kill, so I gave them a stern talking-to once I’d finished sending their children to Heaven. I really do hope they reform, so I can ensure that they are reunited with their progeny in the arms of God.”

I point at Joseph angrily. “See? That is the kind of stuff you’d see from the Slaughterhouse Nine! Every parahuman in the city is going to be after us, and you want to keep following this lunatic’s plans?”

“And what’s your idea, Taylor?” Paul asks.

“What?”

“You want to use this power to help people. Don’t bother trying to deny it. But the gangs are entrenched in this city. If you want to change Brockton Bay for the better, and make everything end up all smiling children and puppies skipping happily in the sunshine under a rainbow, which, by the way, you won’t ever actually be able to do because you’re a fucking vampire, you’re going to have to find a way to bring life back into the Bay,” Paul says, adopting the demeanor of a lecturer. “That means revitalizing the economy. And that can’t be done yet, because the gangs are there, they formed and came to power because Brockton turned into a shithole, and they’re going to keep Brockton a shithole.”

I laugh. “Do you really think that I haven’t heard this before? Mas- Wiglaf has given me that speech a thousand times. The solution he presents is always the same: eliminate or suborn all the gangs, and then assume control from the shadows, in order to revitalize the economy.”

“It won’t work,” Joseph interrupts. “He underestimates parahumans, and just humans in general, just a tad too much. So did I, before I met my fiancé, and then nearly got my head split open by Colin. It’s why I held off from killing Amelia. We can’t just rely on the Disciplines and powers of Vampirism we’ve been so comfortable using for the many centuries we’ve lived. We need to learn to incorporate the secrets of this new world, so that we may grow and adapt to the wonders and horrors it holds.”

I blink in surprise, while Paul seizes on my disorientation. “See? This is why we need Joseph, and why I’m going with his ideas, and not yours. Sure, he’s bugfuck insane, I mean, I have absolutely no idea what’s goes on in that head to jump from, ‘I am a good Christian who acts in accordance with the commandments of God’ to ‘I must murder all the babies for JESUS,’ and I quite frankly don’t want to know…”

“I keep telling you, Paulinus, in order to save their souls…”

“No, Joseph!” Paul shouts. “Look, I don’t want to know why you do it, because it’ll either be some complete babbling lunacy that wrecks my faith in humanity, or it might actually make perfect sense, and then I’ll probably turn into a baby-murdering psychopath, and frankly, I’m not interested in either outcome.”

“So, the guy you’re afraid will turn you into a baby-murdering psychopath is a better choice to follow than me because…?” I prompt questioningly, shooting Paul a Look.

“Because he knows things. More than Wiglaf. More than me! More than you! And he has a plan. Sure he’s insane, but his plan is guaranteed to be efficient, and bypass most of the roadblocks we’d encounter otherwise,” Paul says. “For instance, how do you plan on dealing with the gangs? If you take out one, the other two will lunge into action, and then there’ll be a gang war on our hands. And how do you plan on taking down entire gangs swiftly and efficiently, with limited collateral damage?”

“I don’t…” Fuck. That’s actually a good point.

“You and me? We’re blind. Firing shots in the dark. But Joseph knows where he’s going. And he has a plan.”

I sigh, and then I hand Joseph my phone.

“Oh, splendid!” he says, before dialing in a number I don’t recognize. “Brad. This is James.”

I do a double take. Joseph’s voice… He sounds nothing like himself. His voice drops a register, picking up a thick German accent. He continues. “I wish I was bringing better news. Kaiser is dead.”

He pauses for a moment. “I don’t know who did it! But the PRT,” he sighs. “I’ve been reaching out to the rest of the family. You were the only one that picked up the phone. Someone’s picking up off. You need to go to ground, until whoever’s behind this shows their hand. Get rid of your phone, get Cricket and Stormtiger, and hide, at least until we figure out who’s behind this. I’ll join you once I’ve- MOTHER OF GOD!” He swear in German. “Brad, listen to me, it’s Coil! He’s-“ And then he smashes my phone in his hand.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, completely flummoxed.

“Me getting Hookwolf out of the way,” Joseph says calmly. “Now then, time to deal with Krieg. Paul, I’m going to need to borrow a shovel.”

---

“Hello, Mr. Fleischer, we’re here to represent the Church of Shovelology,” Joseph says to the man that opens the door. “Would care to wait a moment to hear the good news?”

“I’m very sorry,” the man I am rapidly realizing is actually Krieg says. “I’m not actually interested.”

“It’s fine, and might I say that’s a very lovely dog you have?” Joseph asks, looking behind Krieg.

“What dog?” Krieg asks, turning to look.

Joseph brains him with a shovel, and then turns to me and Paul. “All right, help me stuff him in the sack!”

---​

I sit in quiet irritation, well aware that the row of seats behind me is filled to the brim with unconscious, hogtied Nazis.

They all fell for it. Meet them at the door, get them to turn around, and then brain them with the shovel.

“I told you he had a plan,” Paul says from behind the wheel.

“Yes, yes, no need to rub it in. I guess he is fairly good at getting things done.”

We’re in the car, waiting for Joseph to come back. He told us to wait here in the car while he dealt with the last address on his list, up in the apartment building somewhere.

“I don’t get it though, why is he going up there alone?” I ask.

“Because he did not wish to burden your conscience with what had to be done,” Joseph says, as I realize, all of a sudden, that he is in the passenger seat, even though I didn’t even notice him opening the door.

“Where’s the target?” Paul asks.

“Dead. Too dangerous to leave alive.”

“What?” I screech.

“Must have been a pretty dangerous Nazi, if you killed her outright,” Paul says, as we pull out of the parking lot.

“Not a Nazi,” Joseph says, almost looking… sad. “Just a mere tattletale, that knew too much, and might have revealed the truth of this night's dark deeds, or even our own damned nature. But the hour grows late, or perhaps early. We must away, and ensure that our goose-stepping guests are safely secured within our lair, before the sun may rise.”

And we drive on, as I brood in silence. Monsters, all of us, fleeing the shadow of the rising sun.

 

We get back to the Haven, and I waste no time in using Dominate to ensure that our kidnapped capes will in no way try to call for help, attack us, or escape in any way from the chalk circles we drew on the ground around them.

And then we go to our coffins for the day.

When I awaken, Joseph is standing before my coffin.

“What do you want, lunatic?”

“Your sire has summoned us to meet with him!” Joseph says, cheerful as can be. “Oh, and he wants us to bring Purity with us.”

“Why?”

“Apparently he has some designs on her,” Joseph says with a shrug. “In any case, we should get going soon.”

“Alright, fine.” I get up and make my way towards the holding pen.

It’s on the ground floor of the warehouse, away from the coffins in the basement. Each of the capes we kidnapped is imprisoned inside a chalk circle about five feet in diameter, and under a fairly complicated Dominate suggestion I implanted in order to restrict them from escaping. They can’t attempt to contact anyone outside the warehouse. They can’t raise their voices. They can’t attempt to attack the three of us or act against us. And they cannot leave their own circle or attempt to smudge or damage their circle in any way.

“Who are you?” Rune asks, sounding as if she really wishes she could raise her voice right now. “What do you want from us?”

I pause, a thought occurring to me. My blood is running a bit low right now, and I could definitely use a top-up. I look Rune over. She is helpless right now. Mine for the taking.

I check my watch, and then walk towards Rune, calling upon my Obteneration to create a cloud of darkness around the two of us, so as not to reveal to them my nature.

“Wait, please, I’m sorry if I made you angry, please don’t-“ Rune babbles, as she stumbles about in the darkness. I seize her with my Potence-enhanced arms, and silence her with a bite. My fangs sink deep into her soft, defenseless neck, and I drink her intoxicatingly exotic blood, so much more… filling than any mere gangbanger’s. Her scream dies off, replaced by a soft moan.

I make sure to mind my feeding, and lick closed the bite marks on her neck once I’ve drunk my fill. It was a light feeding. She’ll be lightheaded for a little while, with no further consequences.

I dispel the cloud of darkness and make my way towards Purity. The other E88 captives are all riled up, now, asking what I did to Rune or just cussing me out. Unfortunately for them, they still can’t raise their voices, so it all blends together into a sort of strongly worded babble.

I ignore the vermin as I look Purity over.

She looks haggard, with blood matting her hair from where the shovel hit her. She was in striped white and grey pajamas when we kidnapped her, and they’re absolutely filthy, now. She’s clearly one of the ones that have had to heed the call of nature while trapped here, judging by the filth in the furthest corner of the circle away from her.

I actually pay attention to what she’s saying. “-please, I have a daughter, I have to get back to her, I don’t know how long she’s been alone in the apartment without me! She could starve!”

That… For a second, my heart is moved. And then I remind myself that she’s a Nazi, and a mass murderer, who knowingly destroyed entire tenements full of people just because those people were minorities.

“Sleep,” I command her, and she obeys, keeling over straightaway. I pick her up and toss her onto my shoulder in a fireman’s carry before I head for the door.

Then I see Joseph, walking from circle to circle and leaving buckets with the occupants.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeding them, and giving them their toilets,” he says, as he sets a bucket in Rune’s circle. She doesn’t respond to it, clearly still out of it from my bite.

“Why?”

“Because they’re probably starving, and quite thirsty.”

“And why do we care? They’re freaking Nazis.” I mean, Nazis aren’t people. That’s why me killing Kaiser didn’t technically count.

“They’re still people, Taylor. Capable of atonement and a return to God’s love. They might have sinned greatly, but there is still the capacity for redemption within them,” Joseph says, without a hint of irony. “And besides, we kidnapped them and are holding them all hostage in a warehouse black site while we decide whether to kill or enslave them. The least we can do is be hospitable.”

He drops the next food bucket in Victor’s circle, the occupant of which appears to be having a panic attack.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll be waiting in the car. Come and find me with Paul once you’re done feeding your pet gangsters.”

“Oh, Paul won’t be joining us,” Joseph says cheerfully, dropping a bucket into Crusader’s circle, as the Nazi inside calls him racial slurs in as close to a yell as he can manage.

“What? Why?”

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on my ‘pet gangsters’ as you so artfully called them,” he says, tossing his last bucket into Krieg’s circle before turning to look at the captive Nazis. “Now Paul will be looking after you until I get back. You’ll know him when you see him, and if you don’t see him, he’s probably waqtching you invisibly. Now remember to have fun and behave yourselves until I get back.”

We’re making our way towards the car when a thought occurs to me. “Wait, if Paul isn’t coming with us, then who’s going to drive?”

“Me!” Joseph says, grinning like the cat that just got the canary.

For some reason, I have a terrible feeling about this.

---​

“OH MY GOD!” I scream, as Joseph swerves over the double yellow lines and onto the left side of the road, weaving between the cars as he drives head on through the oncoming traffic. “WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD! WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD!”

My fingers sink into the dashboard as Joseph expertly weaves under the belly of an eighteen-wheeler. “I’m aware.”

“THEN STAY ON THE RIGHT!” I scream at him.

“I can’t. I’m using Obfuscation to make the car invisible right now, so we’ll just get rammed if we stop for the red lights or stay in our lane. I can hardly avoid collisions if they’re coming at me from behind, after all.”

“THEN STOP OBFUSCATING!” I yell.

“I can’t. I’m currently in violation of numerous traffic laws,” he comes on a red light and makes a left so wide he nearly hits a pedestrian on the sidewalk. “Besides, I’m a wanted criminal thanks to modern society’s overbearing obsession with materiality. If I show my face, then the PRT will be upon us in a flash.”

“Gee. What a shock. I mean, why can’t they just accept that Jesus told you to murder all those babies and give you a pass?” I ask, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Exactly! I blame the Enlightenment, personally. Everyone got so obsessed with science, and their material existence that they forgot about the spiritual. Plus the Technocracy got started, and they’re just a bunch of absolutely dreadful boors.”

“Please stop yelling,” Purity says sleepily from the back seat.

“STAY OUT OF THIS!” I snap, looking her in the eyes. Best to make sure she doesn’t make a run for it, after all now that she’s outside her circle.

“But I- TRUCK. TRUCK!” her eyes widen and she points desperately ahead.

“I see it,” Joseph says blithely, swerving out of the way of the pickup truck rushing towards us without even looking at the road.

“Oh, Heavenly Father, please,” Purity says quietly, clasping her hands in prayer. “I know I haven’t exactly been a very good person, but I’m trying to change. Please don’t let me die here with these lunatics.”

“I’m sure he still loves you, Kayden,” Joseph assures her as he drifts through another red light.

“Hey, don’t you dare lump me in with this lunatic,” I say testily.

“You hit me with a shovel,” Kayden says incredulously. “And then you Mastered me into staying inside a circle for hours without giving me food, or water, or even a bucket to do my business in. I had to shit on the floor, in full view of everybody!”

I blink, trying to remember. Oh, yeah, I guess she was one of the people I personally shovel-bashed. “I’d argue that there’s a world of difference between someone who kidnaps Nazis and someone who murders newborns en masse because he thinks Jesus tells him to.”

She goes still. “Where is my daughter?” She’s glowing, now, and while it doesn’t burn, it’s extremely uncomfortable. Her hands glow like she’s preparing to blast us, which should be impossible under the orders I’ve given her, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable risking it.

“Wiglaf, the guy we’re meeting, is holding her hostage,” Joseph says as he pulls into a stop, and then, with no seeming effort, completely changes his appearance.

“What?” Kayden asks, her glow fading, and naked terror on her face.

“He was actually planning on using her to force you into becoming his bodyguard, before we kidnapped you and royally screwed up his plans,” Joseph says. “So, yeah, he’s probably going to try for that now. I hope you’re not opposed to a new line of work.”

“If it’s any comfort, he’s my boss too,” I say as I lead Kayden out of the car.

“What is he like?” she asks, her eyes dull, like she has no more fear to give.

“Um….”

---​

“YOU WORTHLESS MALCONTENT!” my master screams, greeting me with a fist when I enter the room. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW THOROUGHLY YOU DERAILED MY PLANS?”

“But… I wasn’t the one who did that!” I protest, massaging my broken nose as I lie on the floor before him.

“I’m well aware that it was Joseph,” he says, folding his arms behind his back. “I simply needed to vent my anger. You were an adequate punching bag, I suppose.”

I glare at him as I get to my feet, and Joseph and Kayden enter the room.

“Kayden Anders,” my master says in greeting, smirking confidently. “I have wished to meet you for quite some time.”

She glares at him. And then she blasts him in the gut, prompting an agonized scream and sending him hurtling into the wall. “WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER YOU BASTARD?”

I don’t move an inch to help him. Neither does Joseph.

Leaving my sire out of the “do not harm” command was a risk. But it’s paying off in spades.

“Anna-Marie!” my master yelps, as Purity stalks towards him, her hands glowing and ready to fire off a second blast of concentrated sunlight. “Break her thumbs!”

I hear two tiny snaps from the cell phone on the table, followed by the wailing of a baby.

“Aster?” Kayden asks, real fear in her voice. “Leave her alone!”

“If I die, she dies,” my master says, rising up to his feet and putting out the burning hole in his side by slapping it with a towel. “And every time you disobey me, little Aster will find herself in need of a new cast. Now then, who’s ready to be a good little parahuman?”

Kayden bows her head, defeated. “Fine.”

“Very good,” he says, walking up to her and wrapping his fingers around her hair. “Now, then,” he drags her down until she’s face to face with the wound in his side, where scorched flesh is giving way to oozing blood. “You’ve made quite the mess. Lick it clean.”

She hesitates, but then sticks out her tongue as her baby wails over the phone behind her, tentatively licking up a drop of blood, before shuddering, and returning to the task with even greater eagerness, moaning as she gorges herself on my master’s blood.

“Enough, pet,” he says pulling her away by her hair, and then tilting her head back so she’s forced to look him in the eyes. “Now, then, go on up to your room, yes? Wait for me to instruct you further, that’s a good pet.”

She complies silently, her eyes glassy.

Once she’s gone, he turns to us.

“Joseph. My dearest, oldest friend,” he says, reaching for the remote and turning on the television on the wall behind him. “Would you care to explain this?”

Sure enough, it’s one of the major news networks, reporting on the Hospital Incident.

“Not really, I but I don’t think I have a choice in the matter,” Joseph says with a resigned shrug.

“YOU ARE ON THE NATIONAL NEWS!” my master bellows. “Because you apparently decided not only to murder a maternity ward’s worth of infants, but also to Embrace the nation’s premiere healer, but not, mind you, as a Malkavian, as very supernatural laws which govern our undead nature would dictate. No, no, you’re far too much of an absolute pain in my cold, dead, ass for that. You just had to go the extra mile, and Embrace Panacea as a FUCKING TZIMISCE, in defiance of the laws of KINE, KINDRED, and GOD alike!” To emphasize the point, he points at the screen, at the graphic the anchor is showing of whatever the hell Panacea turned herself into, apparently captured from security cam footage.

“Okay, the resemblance is uncanny, and I see where you’d get the idea, but you’ve got it wrong, Wiglaf!” Joseph says. “I didn’t Embrace her at all. I used Dementation on both her and her power.”

“What?”

“You’ve misread this whole situation, Wiglaf. We need to set up a plan, and accelerate Project Nightbringer,” Joseph says, dead serious. “We’ll need to rule openly for what’s to come.”

“Very well. We will summon a conclave of the Black Hand. To prepare for what is to come,” my master glances at me. “And to welcome our newest member.”

 

The night dawns, and I rise with the moon. My sire awaits me, and together we descend into the chamber in his basement.

We’re the first to arrive at the circular, dark oak table in the darkened vault, but the others file in soon enough.

After Anna-Marie sits down, my master stands, the black robes he donned for the occasion making him cut an impressive figure. “My brothers and sisters of the Black Hand. We stand assembled once more.”

The others bow their heads, and chorus, “May Cain’s will guide us to wisdom.”

I… don’t know how to react to all of this, honestly. I just stay silent and wait for them to bring me in.

“However, we are four, where ought be five. Our Brother is fallen, and a new Kindred must rise in his place,” he continues. “My childe, Taylor Hebert, seeks to join with the Black Hand of the Sabbat, to enforce the will of this council, and to serve as the guiding hand of all Kindred-kind, and through all Kindred, the world.”

Anna-Marie rises, and says, as if she’s memorized the words, “And what deeds has this Kindred done, to be worthy of so high an honor?”

“She has slain the one named Kaiser, a parahuman warlord of this city, and in so doing, brought many parahumans to heel, seizing them from their homes and bringing them to their knees before their rightful masters,” Wiglaf answers. “Her deeds have advanced the interests of the Sabbat, and indeed, all Kindred. If there are any that would dispute that her deeds have elevated her to the Black Hand, let them say their piece!”

There is silence.

“Very well. Then let us welcome her into our pack and celebrate our brotherhood with the sacred rite of vaulderie,” and so saying, my master takes a silver knife, and, cutting into his wrist, pours his blood into a silver goblet. He waits a moment, and then passes the goblet to Anna-Marie, seated at his right hand. She takes the silver knife in front of her and repeats the process.

I look uncomfortably at the silver knife in front of my own seat, as I realize what it’s for.

Soon, however, Paul passes the goblet to me, and I take a deep breath, bring the knife to my wrist, and make the cut.

Then, after I’ve poured in my blood, I pass the goblet over to Wiglaf, completing the circle, and then begin massaging my wrist, because Jesus Christ that hurt. How do the rest of them do that so casually?

“This is our blood,” Wiglaf says solemnly, holding up the siler, blood-filled goblet. “The blood of Caine, which binds us all and has granted us life eternal. When you drink it, do so to remember our kinship.”

He drinks from the goblet, passes it to Anna-Marie. She drinks and passes it on.

I… I’m excited. And a part of me is actually disgusted with myself for being so excited to drink the blood in that goblet.

It comes into my hands, and I drink the blood left over after the others have supped upon it.

It’s… magnificent. It comes over me like the wind blowing through the leaves of a field on a sunny day, setting the shadows dancing on the ground in harmony with the soft light of the sun.

I look about the table, and I revel in the new sensation of kinship.

This… is my Pack. No. My family.

If I could still shed tears, I would weep for the beauty of it all.

I absently pass the now empty goblet to Wiglaf, who raises it up in both hands.

“We stand born anew, remade by the blood of Cain. Know, now and forevermore, that we are of one body, for we have drunk deep of the blood of all our brethren.”

“By the blood of Cain, so is it now, and so shall it be forevermore!” we cry out in unison.

There is a moment, as we bask in the conclusion of the rite, and our newfound feelings of camaraderie, in which we all remain silent.

And then Wiglaf pops open the collar of his robe with a sigh of relief. “All right, then. Now that the formalities are all concluded, time to get down to business.”

Everybody except me seems to relax.

“Oh, thank fucking God,” Anna-Marie says with a multi-rowed grin. “We finally talk like normal people again.”

“I still maintain that the manner of speech you adopt these days is far too vulgar,” Wiglaf says with a fond smile.

“Ugh, look, old man,” Anna-Marie says with an eye-roll.

“I’m only twenty-four years your senior, you know,” Wiglaf interrupts.

“Doesn’t make you any less old,” she says with a smirk. “And I change with the times. Just because things were one way back when we were still mortals doesn’t mean we get to act like it’ll stay the same forever. I adapt and overcome the changes. You would still be speaking Old Norse if you could help it.”

“Or Old English,” Wiglaf agrees with a nod. “And you still utter vulgarities far too readily.”

“I went entire centuries before discovering the word ‘fuck,’ in all its magnificent versatility,” Anna-Marie says with a smirk. “I like to make up for lost time.”

“Unbelievable. Over a thousand years old, and you’re still utterly uncultured.”

“Hey, I’m plenty cultured,” Anna-Marie says. “I went to watch that Shakespeare guy’s plays with you, remember?”

“How could I ever forget?”

“Er, could we… maybe get on with the meeting?” Paul asks.

Anna-Marie and Wiglaf blink.

“Certainly,” Wiglaf says after a moment, his face harsh and emotionless once more. “We have taken most of the Parahuman members of the Empire Eighty-Eight into captivity. Now, only Hookwolf, Alabaster, Cricket, and Stormtiger remain free. Anna? Would you be interested in killing them or bringing them to heel?”

“Of course!” she says with a grin. “I’ve been wanting to show those Viking wannabes how a real raider operates for a while now.”

“Now, then. Joseph, what did you wish to warn us about?”

Joseph sighs in relief. “The Lord, (and my new fiancé) have made clear to me the true origin of Parahumans, and parahuman powers. They are not some mutation, or even supernatural in origin. This world is currently trapped inside the reproductive cycle of two alien entities so technologically and biologically advanced that their capabilities are indistinguishable from magic. One has been killed, but the other still lives. Currently, they are using the Kine as a sort of weapons testing program, giving them access to shards of their bodies to see if they can use them creatively. However, eventually, once the powers they give out have destroyed human civilization, the remainder of the pair will destroy the Earth, and all of the other possible Earths it included in its testing range. We need to prepare for the apocalypse to come.”

I… what?

“WHAT?” I say aloud.

“The world is going to end. And we’ll need to unite it, and assemble a cohesive force to fight it,” Joseph says, deadly serious. “As a first step, I would recommend that we…”

“Ridiculous,” my master says.

“…What?”

“Utterly ridiculous,” Wiglaf says. “I can’t believe that you wasted our time with this insane tripe. Moving on, we’re going to need to eliminate or subvert the Merchants, next.”

“No!” Joseph interrupts, looking as mad as I’ve ever seen him. “You do NOT get to dismiss my God-given visions of the coming apocalypse and then go on to discuss the freaking Merchants! This is a problem we need to deal with!”

“We escaped Gehenna!” Wiglaf shouts. “We spent millennia devising the ritual, killed hundreds, and sacrificed more than any of us care to remember, fighting Kine and Kindred alike for the chance to reach this world, where we can finally rule supreme! And what’s more likely, then? That this world, the fruit of our labors, ripe and defenseless for our taking, is just as doomed to destruction as the first one? Or that the Malkavian who thinks Jesus tells him to kill babies is hallucinating again?”

Joseph stares at him, as realization seems to dawn on his face. “You can’t accept it, can you? You can’t accept the thought that, after all you’ve done, all the plots, schemes, and sacrifices, it was all for nothing. You’re still not the biggest fish in the pond. And realizing that… it would break you.”

“Watch it,” Wiglaf says, fixing him with a dangerous glare.

“So. Denying the apocalypse just so that you can continue to live in blissful ignorance while enjoying the power your schemes have brought you…” Joseph says with an ugly smirk. “Tell me, Wiglaf, how does it feel to be a Ventrue in all but clan?”

I hear a loud crack, and I can’t tell for the life of me if it was Joseph’s jaw breaking, or Wiglaf breaking the sound barrier with his fist.

Everyone besides Joseph and Wiglaf jumps back in surprise, myself include. I didn’t even see Wiglaf get out of his chair.

Wiglaf stands, seething with fury, over Joseph, who’s staring up at him, hurt and betrayed. He raises a hand, and points at the door. “Get. Out.”

Joseph, for his part, looks heartbroken, but that quickly turns into anger. “If this, this willful, self-destructive ignorance is the will of the Black Hand, the will of the Sabbat,” He rises and storms towards the door. “THEN I TAKE MY LEAVE OF BOTH!”

The doors slam behind him so hard that their hinges rattle, leaving the chamber in breathless silence.

We watch Wiglaf, who finally turns to us. “Meeting adjourned.”

And then he storms off, Anna-Marie following behind him, looking worried. Paul’s vanished by the time I look for him, and I’m left alone at the table.

And then I get up and start planning. Because, if Joseph is right on the money, then the apocalypse won’t find me unprepared.

 

I try very hard not to look at Armsmaster.

It isn’t easy, considering that he’s the one standing in front of the whiteboard, with myself and the rest of the Wards in the audience before him, but the sheer anger he’s feeling is so great it almost blinded me when I first looked at him.

Shadow Stalker files in, and Armsmaster turns to face us. “Shadow Stalker. You’re four minutes late.”

She flips him off. He grunts. Hooray for effective communication.

“Now that all Wards are present…”

I raise my hand awkwardly.

“Yes, Gallant?”

“Sir? Browbeat isn’t here.” I wince as I look at him.

He’s silent for a few moments, and I can hear his teeth grinding. “Very well. He has another thirty seconds to show up, otherwise we’re starting without him.”

Browbeat walks in and freezes as Armsmaster glares at him. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, sir. I got held up, and…” he trails off awkwardly in the face of Armsmaster’s glare. “I’ll just… sit down…”

“Very good. You’ve already wasted enough of everyone’s time with your tardiness. Avoiding further delays would be appreciated.”

“Yessir,” Browbeat says, almost seeming to shrink in on himself.

“Now that all of you are here, we can begin,” Armsmaster says, and I have no choice but to look at him.

He seethes with anger. The fiery, furious crimson flows off of him like a corona of rage. Then, with a great strain, I try to focus on what he’s actually saying, and not what he’s feeling.

“Here are the facts of the case as we are aware of them: At eight PM two days ago, the Villain who identified himself as Josephus of Cana infiltrated Brockton General. We do not have any security recordings of the infiltration, or any accounts from bystanders or hospital staff that encountered him during his infiltration. However, forensics have analyzed the body we found in the closet, identified as Dennis Garland, a nurse at the hospital who was serving as Panacea’s attendant that afternoon. By cross-referencing with the accounts of the patients she treated, Josephus killed Nurse Garland while Panacea was in a patient’s room and took his place as her assistant. He then took over leading her to the various rooms of critically injured patients, purposefully leading her into more sparsely populated areas of the hospital, where there would be no witnesses.”

I wince. I’m not entirely sure what happened to Panacea in that hospital, but something definitely happened to Vicky. Ever since, she’s acted as if she doesn’t even remember Amy.

I’m worried for her.

“Glory Girl intervened, attempting to neutralize Josephus. After that, things get hazy. We don’t know what, precisely, he did to Panacea, or why he didn’t kill her or Glory Girl.” Armsmaster’s voice hardens even further, to extent I’d thought impossible, as he continues. “But we do know what he did next. As the evacuation was beginning, he sealed off all entrances and exits to the hospital maternity ward, and then went on a killing spree. Once all is done and accounted for, we believe that he killed fifty-three civilians, twenty-four of them newborn babies.”

I…

“What the shit,” Clockblocker says, sounding serious for the first time since I met him. “I mean, who… Why would anyone do that? That’s Slaughterhouse Nine level fucked-up.”

He’s just the most vocal. Shock and horror are the most common emotions among my teammates right now. Even Sophia looks disturbed.

“An apt description,” Armsmaster says. “And, fortunately, Dragon has maintained her watch over the Slaughterhouse Nine, and believes that they have not changed their course away from Brockton Bay, although the possibility that they might come to try and recruit Josephus is still a pressing concern.”

“Are you telling me that we might have to deal with the Slaughterhouse Nine?” Aegis asks, with an undercurrent of terror to his voice no matter how hard he tries to keep his voice calm and professional.

“It is a possibility,” Armsmaster confirms, scowling so hard I’m worried he’ll break his face. “When I arrived at the scene, it was ahead of the other members of the Protectorate. I organized a cordon around Brockton General, and was contacted by an independent hero who went by Lasombra. She offered assistance, and with her as backup, I made my way into the hospital.”

“An independent?” I ask, because I need something to focus on besides the unfolding atrocity. “I haven’t heard of her.”

Something new flares up around Armsmaster. Shame, and guilt. “You most likely wouldn’t have. According to her, it was her first night out. She was Wards age.”

Vista is the one who catches onto it first. “Was?”

“Please wait, all questions will be answered at the end,” Armsmaster says. “Lasombra and I entered Brockton General, and we first encountered Panacea.” He actually winces.

“What happened to her?” I ask. “You’ve been dancing around it, but we need to know: What happened to Panacea?”

“Josephus made her second-trigger,” Armsmaster says uncomfortably.

My teammates wince, and I mimic their reaction. I never had a trigger event myself, but I know full well from my team just how horrible they are. To intentionally put someone through that…

“Or at least, a second trigger is our working theory. We haven’t ruled out some sort of Teacher-like Master/Trump effect,” Armsmaster continues. “What we do know is that she is no longer Manton-limited. She can affect herself with her powers, and, if she’s to be taken at her word, affect brains. She claims to have used these new abilities to erase Glory Girl’s memories of her.”

“I… why would she do that?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Whatever Josephus did to her, it drove her insane. She believed that voices talked to her, considered the idea of giving Josephus’ victims a proper burial to be ‘wasting perfectly good biomass,’ and actively mauled Lasombra in an attempt to drink her blood,” Armsmaster rattles off. “She has been tentatively deemed hostile and should be contained and brought in for psychiatric treatment.”

“Is Josephus some sort of Master?” Aegis asks, almost hopefully. “If he is, then perhaps…”

“He is a Master. He is also a Thinker, a Stranger, and a Brute. And whatever he did to Panacea, it doesn’t change the fact that she needs to be restrained, both for her safety, and that of others,” Armsmaster looks around between us, and then sighs. “After our encounter with Panacea, Lasombra and I moved to engage Josephus. Lasombra made sure he didn’t escape, while I went for the kill.”

“Is there a Kill Order out against him?” I ask.

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Armsmaster says, and nobody contests the point. “Unfortunately, just when I had him on the ropes, the rest of the Protectorate East-Northeast arrived. He employed a Stranger power to make them believe that I was him, and he was me. While the others attacked me, he used his pretense of being me to get Lasombra to help him leave the scene. We have found no trace of either of them. Lasombra is… presumed dead.” And the shame and guilt are back in full force, breaking through the seething rage.

“I…” I don’t know what to say. No wonder he’s so angry. Josephus murdered an entire maternity ward, tricked the Protectorate into attacking him, and then used Armsmaster’s own identity to lead off a teenager under Armsmaster’s protection and kill her, all while the leader of the PRT ENE was too busy fighting his own team to stop it. And he got off scot free.

“Josephus will be receiving a Kill Order, courtesy of the Chief Director,” Armsmaster says. “But if any of you see him, contact Console, and then run. He’s dangerous, and has shown a willingness to kill even children, no, especially children, and if he doesn’t kill you, he will make you wish you were dead. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir!” we chorus.

---

I get back to the townhouse around ten, after a late patrol.

I buzz myself in, and then, as I open the door, I hear a scuttling sound, and-

---

I wake up surrounded by something warm, with a raging headache. My eyes slowly begin to open.

And then they open a hell of a lot faster as I take in my surroundings.

I’m… I don’t know where. Somewhere damp and dark, I think. The walls are covered with skin, and there’s something… some huge, insectoid thing skittering around in the shadows.

Abruptly, I hear someone scream, only for it to be almost immediately silenced.

“Hello?” I call into the darkness, wincing as my voice cracks. “Is… someone there?”

Something is coming towards me, something big. I hear the click-clack of its legs as it approaches, emerging into the dim light of the bioluminescent flesh encasing me.

The creature is about the size of a horse, huge and squat, covered in some sort of chitinous exoskeleton. It has six chitin-covered, pointed legs, and three sets of eyes that I can see. Human arms, dripping with some unnatural sort of amniotic fluid, dangle from raw openings in the chitin that look like open wounds, on either side of its broad front. A bit above the arms there are some sort of fleshy organs whose purpose I cannot identify. But, by far the defining feature of the creature’s face, if it can even be called a face, is the vertical, raw, slit that splits its front, which I can only assume to be some sort of mouth.

And then one of the arms pumps the air. “Splendid! You’re already awake!”

“W-What?”

“Oh, don’t you recognize us?” the creature asks, and I note that its disturbingly familiar voice is coming, not from the slit I assumed to be its mouth, but from the unidentifiable organs above its arms. “It’s us, Panacea!”

“I… hardly recognized you,” I admit, even I begin desperately searching for a way out of this mess.

“Well, we have made a few modifications, lately,” she admits with a gurgling chuckle. “Do you like what we’ve done with ourself?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh, that’s just your monkey brain asserting its sensibilities. Basic human nature, we’ll get around to fixing it eventually.”

“Amy, what do you want with me?” I ask, trying not to panic. I can barely even see her emotions, and the colors I can see are ones I didn’t even know existed.

“You make Vicky happy,” she says matter-of-factly. “We love Vicky, and she would be sad if you died. So, we’re making an Emergency Dean.”

“What?”

“An Emergency Dean! To replace you when you die!” she puts her slimy hands on my cheeks. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt at all.”

“Hey, Panacea! You in?” somebody shouts.

“Oh! Yes! Come right on in!” she calls back, pulling away from me as I breathe a sigh of relief. And then I freeze when I realize exactly who my savior is.

Josephus of Cana, the mass murderer with a Kill Order, whose atrocities could be considered worthy of the Slaughterhouse Nine, smiles disarmingly as he walks into the room. “Sweet place you’ve got here, Panacea!”

“Well, we try our humble best,” she demurs.

“I actually had a bit of a falling out with my regular crew. Could I crash on your couch?”

“Of course! We’re always happy to help.”

“YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!” I shout, bringing their attention back onto me. “He’s a monster, a mass murderer!”

“I do the necessary work of the Lord, young man.”

“You murder babies.”

“And did not Jesus say, ‘Let all the little children come to me, and do not impede them, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven?’”

“That was NOT a blanket commandment to murder babies!”

“Look, I’m not here to debate semantics with… um, you? I don’t actually know who you are.”

“He’s Dean.”

“Oh, Victoria’s boyfriend? He seems like a righteous fellow. May I kill him?”

Amy’s chitin plates clack against each other in a bizarre sort of shrug. “Eh, why not. That’s what the Emergency Dean is for, anyways. Just wait until we’ve finished birthing him.”

“Wait, WHAT?” I scream at her.

The slit on her face spasms and begins to leak the same fluid that coats her arms, and I realize with a surge of nausea that it isn’t her mouth.

“Thanks, Panacea,” Josephus says. “I knew you’d let me save his soul.”

Okay. Okay, Dean. This is fine. You can do this. This is totally manageable. You just need to talk the serial killer out of murdering you, before the giant insect-mammal hybrid that used to be your girlfriend’s sister finishes giving birth to your clone.

Fuck my life.

“Please. Please don’t do this,” I beg. “I’m not… I’m not just… You just can’t replace me like that. It won’t be me. IT WON’T BE ME!”

“Indeed!” Josephus says, cheerful as can be. “It will be a soulless abomination that perfectly apes your mannerisms, bringing peace of mind and happiness to all of your loved ones. Meanwhile, you will be in Heaven, beyond the temptations of this unclean world! Oh, but do not fret! You’ll be reunited with your loved ones soon enough!”

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”

“You act like death is a bad thing, Dean! But it isn’t! In fact, it’s the best thing that could possibly happen to a righteous fellow like yourself. After all, there’s nowhere to go but down, when you’re at the top!” he claps me on the shoulder. “Life is just a waiting game, really, waiting to die, before the world sinks its teeth into you and twists you into a monster, no matter how much you say no, and beg, and pray, because you weren’t strong, or good, or faithful enough for God to save you, and now you’re a WRETCHED, WORTHLESS, DEMON OF THE NIGHT, FOREVER CAST OUT OF GOD’S GRACE LIKE THE WORTHLESS, WORTHLESS, WORTHLESS ABOMINATION THAT YOU ARE!”

I stare at him in silence, even as I note that I can see the crest of my clone’s head pushing it’s way out of Panacea’s… um… “mouth.”

“So, you see, Dean, really, the best thing that could ever happen for you is for you to die young, and early, while you’re still human- I mean good. But suicide’s a sin. And that’s why God made monsters like me. To kill you all, and then devour ourselves in the ruins of this dead, wretched excuse for a world.”

I stare at him, and I realize, as despair begins to dawn inside me, that he believes every word.

“Please.” I’m crying as I look at him, and my clone emerges up to the waist.

“Don’t worry, Dean,” he says, smiling warmly even as he pulls a fire axe out of the duffle bag over his shoulder. “You’re going to a better place.”

“Alright, Emergency Dean is all set,” Panacea says. “You can send Old Dean to Heaven, now.”

“Gladly.”

I close my eyes, and pray.

---​

I walk into Arcadia, taking in the sights. I start to whistle, as I make my way towards my first class of the morning, and it's all I can do not to skip.

Vicky finds me in the halls, and greets me with a kiss. "You're looking cheerful today."

I smile.

"What can I say? I woke up this morning feeling like a whole new man."

 

I sit uncomfortably in my sire’s office, pinned to my chair by his gaze.

He called me up here an hour after the Conclave of the Black Hand ended, and I’ve been silently waiting for him to tell me why for almost half an hour.

Finally, he speaks. “I have an assignment for you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I thought I was your equal now?”

He laughs at that. “My equal on paper. You are nowhere near to an equal to my physical, financial, and political prowess, and you’d do best to remember that.”

“I am well aware.”

“So, then, until you are my equal in truth, not paper, I suppose you’ll still be taking orders from me. Disappointed?”

“A bit.”

“Don’t be.” He temples his fingers. “It’s time you learned to stand on your own, without the direct support of your packmates. Kindred may be stronger together, true, but they must always be prepared to stand alone.” And then he tosses me a key.

“What’s this?”

“The key to your new personal Haven. Congratulations, by the way. Under normal circumstances, you would have continued to train under me for decades, at least, before I allowed you to go out on your own. But… unusual times demand unusual measures.”

“Thank you,” I say, dipping my head politely. This is definitely an opportunity. With this, I might be able to secure a powerbase of my own.

“It was no trouble. Now then. I want you to kill Joseph.”

“What?”

“Quite the task, no?” Wiglaf says. “

“But… Paul said that you’ve already tried!” I snap at him. “And it failed!”

“True.”

“So, what do you think I’ll be able to do?”

“What I think is unimportant. What do you think you’ll be able to do?”

“I… what?”

“You don’t know your limits. It’s time for you to push them. I sincerely doubt that you’ll be able to kill Joseph. His Generation is too high, and his experience too great for that. But whether you can is irrelevant. You have seen the carnage he can unleash. You know he is unstable. So, with that in mind, can you do anything less than your absolute best to stop him?”

“I…” I realize, in that moment, that he knows what drives me. And I know that he’s right. I can’t half-ass this. I’ve got to go after Joseph with all I’ve got. “Very well.”

“Be careful when confronting him. He’s Fifth Generation. Stronger than me. Easily the strongest vampire on the planet. Do not go in half-cocked.”

“Fifth Generation?”

He sighs. “When a vampire creates childer, the childer are naturally weaker than him. Thus, Generation. A system of measuring a vampire’s strength by denoting how far removed he or she is from the first vampire, Cain.”

That raises more questions, but I decide not to risk my master’s anger for the sake of my curiosity. “I will depart for the task immediately.”

“Excellent. I’ll be sure to send you a ghoul once the new crop is broken in.”

I blink. “Thank you, sir.”

I already knew what ghouls were, Paul told me that much, but I wasn’t really expecting to have one.

But still, I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.

---​

The first problem I have to confront in my search for Joseph is... well, actually finding him. The second is what the hell I’m going to do once I’ve found him.

But I persevere.

The apartment is nice, if a bit cramped, and I cover all the windows easily enough.

I roll a map of Brockton Bay out on the table, and I think.

Alright. How best to find a master of Obfuscation? He’s Fifth Generation, which means that he can probably do more with his disciplines. I know for a fact that he can obfuscate objects, after all, he obfuscated that car.

So. Where would he go?

I think on the question, and I realize that I have no idea. Joseph is nothing if not unpredictable, and I can’t really rely on him to act reasonably.

Wait. I do know something. His goals. He’s a spree killer, and one that targets babies and children in particular. And I know he can only operate at night, same as me.

Okay. I know which areas he’s most likely to attack. Now then. How do I exploit this to bring him down?

The answer is obvious. Dominate. If I use it to leave implanted commands to call me if there’s an attack in individuals in Joseph’s threat zones throughout the city, then I’ll have a cheap and easy surveillance network that will alert me to any attempt by Joseph to attack civilians.

“So. Where is he most likely to strike?” I muse aloud. “The hospital, obviously, but where else would he be likely to find victims that fit his preferred profile?”

When I think, ‘where would a spree killer attack if he wanted to kill the most children?’ my first thought is ‘school.’

But that’s not helpful because Joseph can only operate at night, at hours in which the schools are closed, and the children sent home.

That means… I look over the map of Brockton Bay, and then I reach for a pencil. Which isn’t there.

One quick trip to the nearest store that sells writing supplies and is still open at this hour of the night (which happens to be halfway across the city and takes me over an hour to find) and I’m back at the map, using the computer Wiglaf gave me along with the apartment to cross-reference the city’s zoning ordinances, and highlight in which streets had what on them.

The second-most likely area for Joseph to attack would be people’s houses or apartments. With his Obfuscation, he could probably wipe out an entire apartment building without anyone noticing the bodies for hours. Thus, I’m going to need to set up multiple layers of observers, at least one in every single house in all of Brockton Bay, plus the hospital, plus whatever other businesses are open at night.

I stop. That… That’s absurd. To establish a spy network including that many people…

It’s daunting. But at the same time, if I pulled it off, I’d have the first bit of actual control I’ve had since my Embrace. And I want that.

Well, then. I pull on an overcoat, and then I head out. Time to get a bite to eat, and, hopefully, lay the first seeds of my network to come.

---​

Two days later, having just finished seeding every hospital in Brockton Bay with my informants, I return to my apartment and find an unconscious Nazi on my couch.

Rune slumbers peacefully, dressed in a white nightgown straight out of a Victorian bodice-ripper, and with a sticky note on her surprisingly ample bosom. (Her old costume really downplayed that bust.) I can’t help but notice, as I stare at her, so peaceful, so helpless, ripe for the taking, with that sinfully low neckline leaving her soft, delicious neck uncovered, just begging for someone to bite it…

I realize abruptly that I’m literally drooling on Rune’s neck, and back away, awkwardly cleaning my drool off with my sleeve before I grab the note off her breast and beat a hasty retreat towards the kitchen in order to read it free of temptation.

Dear God, I need a drink. I haven’t gone hunting at all while setting up my network, and the hunger is starting to really get to me.

“Hey, Taylor!” the note reads. “I was just dropping off the new ghouls we won from the Empire Eighty-Eight. I figured you’d like this one. Her real name’s Tammi, if you’re interested. Wiglaf worked her over with Dominate, to make sure she’d obey you, guard you during the day, and not try to escape, but I’d recommend you try and break her in yourself. It’s best not to trust in someone else’s programming to make your ghoul safe to use. If you want my advice, treat her right, and make sure to feed her enough of your blood to bond her to you. Stockholm syndrome is your friend, here. Make sure to meet with Anna-Marie, and bring Tammi, because Anna is an absolute bitch to her ghouls, and she’ll make you look like a saint in comparison. Just make sure you bring her on board soon, because if you don’t, she might find a way to betray you, and you don’t want someone that close to your secrets to stab you in the back. Good Luck!
Your Friend,
Paul Weathers”

I…

I look over to Rune, slumbering peacefully on the couch.

I’m helpless during the day, and she could protect me.

But what if she betrays me like E-

I stop myself before I think the name.

She won’t betray me. Because I know the right things to say, and I have powers I didn’t have before. I know just how to make her mine, to pull her levers and drag her under my spell until she can’t even comprehend the idea of betraying me. I know how to make her mine.

And then, finally, I will be the one in control.

 

The television shows an image of multiple crucified, decapitated ABB gangsters, lined up in a row outside Winslow.

“This morning,” the reporter says, looking slightly nauseous. “The bodies of thirteen members of the Asian Bad Boyz were found crucified in front of Winslow high school, sans their heads. Here’s police investigator Reynolds. Sir, are there any clues at the moment?”

“No comment.”

“As of yet, the police have no leads on the murders, but involvement from the mass murderer cape, Josephus of Cana, is suspected. The same could be said for the thirteen crucified gangsters found outside Arcadia and Immaculata.” She pauses. “Next up: Are liberals brainwashing our youth? The answer might surprise you.”

It cuts to some attack ads on Mayor Christner, and I turn the TV off.

There’s nothing to do. The well-polished floors and furniture of my… owner’s apartment almost seem to glare back at me.

The door is six feet away from me, but I can’t leave. There are three windows in this apartment, but I can’t open them.

And the vampire is sleeping in the master bedroom, but I can’t wake her.

I’ve been in her apartment for two days, and she still hasn’t said a word to me. It’s the silence that’s getting to me.

I’ve cleaned the place a hundred times trying to escape the boredom, but even so, the silence always comes creeping back in.

No books. I’m not allowed near my owner’s computer. Not even allowed to peer at the map she leaves out on the dining room table.

I can’t even use my power unless she gives her permission, and it lingers at the edge of my consciousness, like an itch I just can’t scratch.

The only breaks to the boredom are going to the bathroom and the TV. And… Well… one more thing.

Sometimes, if I’m up when she rises, or when she comes back from doing… whatever she does… she comes up to me, and grabs me in that unbreakable grip of hers, and then she sinks her teeth into my neck, and I- It feels good.

And that’s the closest I have to social interaction anymore. A crappy tv that only gets one channel that constantly runs ads accusing Mayor Christner of being a vehicular homiciding, child pornogrifying hypocrite, and the woman who has more or less made me her live-in slave walking up to me and making me… um… fall asleep… by biting me.

I turn the TV again.

She’ll be awake, soon. The sun must be getting lower. I realize, then, as the seconds tick by with agonizing slowness, and the words of the ads blend together, that I’m looking forward to it.

She will rise, soon. And I can’t tell if I’m more frightened or excited by that fact.

---​

It’s been a week, now, since the Ugly Man gave me to Mistress. She still hasn’t said anything to me, and the food is running low. My food, that is. I’m her food. I giggle at that thought.

The TV isn’t enough, now. I can’t escape it, the nagging suspicion as I sit there, watching the talking heads babble about distant events in faraway lands, lands I used to traverse so freely, and can now hardly remember. Oh, God, how could I have ever taken the simple luxury of being able to go outside for granted? How could I have ever taken for granted that other people existed?

Because I can’t believe it, now. I can see the gnomes. They scurry about, along the edges of my vision, but I see them. Hiding away, playing tricks on me.

I broke the TV, yesterday, when I saw a gnome crawling into it. It was probably a good call. I realized after, when I was crying and shaking inside the shower. If one gnome could find its way inside, then there were probably plenty more. The TV was probably full of gnomes, deceiving me with their elaborate gnomish lies. But still, I sit on the couch and giggle at the broken screen, a thought occurs to me: Were other people ever real?

The dreadful question bounces about, vigorously splattering itself across the inner walls of my skull, and the whole world tilts. I fear, for a moment, that I might be going mad. Who was a gnome, and who was a real person? I don’t know, and I cry.

Then, another thought occurs to me, as I’m hissing at passing gnomes from beneath the dining room table: What if I’m a gnome? I thought, before, that only what was in the apartment was real, but what if I’m not real, either?

“I am not a gnome,” I tell myself, even as raw panic begins to bubble up inside me. “I AM NOT A GNOME!”

They taunt and mock me, as I run past them, the gnomes crawling out from the lines between the floorboard, inflating forth from the dimples in the white paint on the walls like the inside-out cherubs that they are.

I need Mistress. I need to see her. I need to touch her. I need to hear her speak, because without her, I’ll lose my mind, completely and utterly, beyond any hope of recovery, trapped inside the deafening silence.

She’s lying on the bed, but I can’t touch her. I can only look at her. Look at the long black hair that lies spread out on the pillows. Look at the too-wide mouth, and the too-pale face.

But she’s real.

I sit, and I stare at her, drinking in the sight of another person. She’s beautiful. It’s just the two of us, alone, together forever, God wiping the Earth clean, and leaving us as the new Adam and Eve. I don’t think Kaiser would like that thought, but he was never real anyway, and she is.

I want to hear her voice. I want to feel her teeth in my neck as she takes me again. Oh, God, I want to touch her.

But I can’t, so instead, I hover over her, inches away, as I watch her sleep and try to breath in the scent of her hair. It keeps the gnomes away.

---​

When Mistress wakes up, and sees me hovering over her, eye bloodshot, hair tangled, and cheeks sunken, she looks at me with disdain, and then gets up to go about her night.

“Please,” I say, lunging off the bed and grabbing the cuff of her pants. “Please, I’m begging you. Talk to me. I’ll do anything, anything, you hear me? I’ll sleep with you, I’ll let you drink my blood, I’ll drink my own piss if I have to! Just… talk to me. Touch me. Something… Anything… Just… Don’t leave me.”

Her pants cuff is pulled free from my grasp, and I start sobbing as…

And then I feel a cold hand on my head, stroking my knotted hair, and I look up to find that Mistress has knelt down over me, and is smiling softly.

“My poor little Tammi,” she says, and her scratchy, hoarse voice is the single most beautiful thing that I’ve ever heard. “So desperate and needy. I really have neglected you, haven’t I, pet?”

“Thank you, mistress.” I murmur, hardly believing my ears. She talked to me. She talked to me!

“Perhaps tomorrow, I’ll take you out on a walk. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I wordlessly nod along in agreement.

“Good. Now, then. Before I go out to the store to get some more food for you, would you like to make it so that I can always be with you?”

“Yes!” I blurt out without hesitation, because I want this. I want this more than anything. To hear her voice, and to feel her presence, the overwhelming realness of her. I want to stay with her forever.

“Well, then,” Mistress says, cutting her palm open and holding it face up towards me. “Drink up.”

I lap up the blood in her palm without hesitation, and it sweeps through me like a wave. I feel her, her cold blood somehow burning with impossible heat upon my tongue and entering into my veins. I feel her inside me, her presence filling me, her existence defining me. And I… I love her. Iloveheriloveheriloverher!

And then, the throes of sheer ecstasy that had wracked my body fade, leaving me exhausted and content.

As Mistress tucks me away, I can’t help but smile. Because Mistress is here. She is everything, and she acknowledges me.

And that is all I need.

 

I’ve been at it for two weeks, building my network and searching for Josephus, when it occurs to me. I’m at the dining room table, looking over the data I’ve compiled from the news and my Dominated spy network. Tammi is behind me, humming as she does up my hair.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I muse, as I compare the various sightings.

“What doesn’t, Mistress?” Tammi asks dutifully. She didn’t even need coaxing to fall into the position of my sounding board, after her week of complete silence.

“These sightings,” I say, gesturing at the map. “My contacts have spotted Josephus, sure, but he’s almost never anywhere near the sight of the crucifixion murders!”

And keeping track of those had gotten absurdly hard after Tammi broke the TV. Still, I managed, even if it had required getting a newspaper subscription.

“Well, maybe he’s not the one that’s doing the crucifixion murders?” Tammi offers up, still combing my hair.

I freeze, and then turn towards her, and she flinches. “I’m sorry, Mistress, it was just an idea, please don’t be mad at me!”

“Don’t be sorry, Tammi,” I assure her with a smile. “It’s a good idea. In fact, it’s brilliant.”

“Really?” She beams as I pat her on the head.

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you, pet.” Honestly, it’s surprising how much Tammi has grown on me. There’s just something endearing about her, a guileless, desperate devotion that puts me in mind of an affection-starved dog. I take her over to the couch, and, dragging her head onto my lap as I sit down, begin to stroke her hair as I think.

Now, then, who besides Joseph is likely to put on gristly, cross-themed murders? What other groups of bloodthirsty monsters with a cross fixation and a desire to overthrow the status quo are there in this town?

None, now that I think of it. I mean, the Teeth might pull this sort of thing, but they’re not in town. Maybe the Slaughterhouse Nine, but they probably wouldn’t stick to the same theme for ten days running. And it’s not Joseph, he’s been spotted across town from the murders twice. I mean, that just leaves…

Us.

And, I mean, it’s not us, right? Wiglaf wouldn’t pull something that mass murder-y. Even if he apparently sponsored Joseph for centuries and didn’t mind all the homicide. And the killings are done so stealthily and untraceably that only a master of Obfuscation could pull them off, which leaves Joseph and… Paul.

Oh, God, it’s totally us.

I need to go talk to Wiglaf.

“All right, that’s enough thinking for tonight. Time for you to get to bed, little ghoul,” I say, getting up and dislodging Tammi’s head from my lap. “Unlike me, you actually need to sleep at night.”

“Okay, Mistress,” she says obediently. And then she blushes, making me positively drool at the thought of the blood in those pretty cheeks of hers. “er… Could you…?”

She bares her neck suggestively, and I notice she’s wearing that lace nightdress again.

“Oh? I can’t possibly think of what you might be implying, little pet,” I say, playing at ignorance as I draw closer to her, pushing her back against the wall. My hunger rages inside me, waiting for the starting gun to break free and finally take her, make her mine. “Would you like me to tuck you into bed? Or perhaps…” My lips draw close to her ear. “… something more intimate?”

“Y-yes,” she stammers.

“Speak up, pet, I can hardly hear you.”

“Please drink my blood, Mistress!” she begs, her cheeks flushed so red I can’t resist…

I lunge, bearing her down as my lips find her sweet, soft, defenseless neck and-

CLONG!

I pull back in concern, and the standing lamp rattles from where Tammi bonked her head against it. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Mistress,” she says, rubbing her head. “Just a little bruised.”

I help her up, and she finds her balance quickly enough.

“Okay, maybe you shouldn’t go straight to bed. You don’t want to risk a concussion.”

“It’s just a bruise,” she argues. “And besides, I have your blood inside me, Mistress! I know you’ll keep me safe!”

I take a brief moment to restrain myself from pinching her cheeks for her overwhelming cuteness. “Well, that’s good, then.”

“But…” Rune blushes, and suddenly I’m raring to go again. “Maybe, when we do this sort of thing in the future, we could do it on the bed, or on the couch? Just doing it anywhere seems… risky.”

“Oh, that’s all right, then,” I say trying to conceal my eagerness. “So, are you ready to go-“

“Um, actually, I was kind of thinking I’d just go to bed, instead,” she says, and I feel myself practically deflate.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Well, the lamp was a bit of a mood killer, and now I have a headache, so I’m just going to lie down,” she says, awkwardly waving goodbye. “Goodnight, Mistress.”

“Goodnight,” I reply, returning the awkward wave as Rune leaves the room. Then I turn towards the lamp and glare at it.

Once I’ve finished twisting that goddamn lamp into a pretzel with all my vampiric might, I sit down on the couch and sulk. Because seriously… What the hell was that? Her neck was bared, her ample bosom heaving in that sinfully delicious Victorian nightdress, and then CLONG! Hello headache! Goodbye feeding time!

And why am I so damn frustrated about this? It’s just blood! Sweet, sinfully delicious blood, and the soft cries of my prey beneath me as I… No. Bad brain! Bad!

I mean, seriously, it’s not like it’s anything sexual!

It… It isn’t, right? It’s not anything sexual. Because, if it was sexual, that would mean I was basically having sex with Rune. And I’m not into girls. Or Nazis. Or girl Nazis.

So it’s totally not anything sexual at all! Really! Because I’m not into girls! Not into girls with their soft… smooth… delicious necks, and NO! Bad brain!

Okay, okay, boys! Thinking of boys. Like that one E88 guy, with the muscles, and the neck tattoos that added a surprising amount of flavor and-

I realize abruptly that I am still fantasizing about a Nazi. Just a male Nazi.

Okay, I need to take Nazis of the menu. Maybe have sex with an ABB- Wait, shit, I meant drink from! Drink from! Oh God, now I’m mixing it up all on my own! Okay. Okay, just… Come on, Taylor. Clear your head.

I take a moment to glare at the standing-lamp-turned-pretzel. Stupid lamp. If it hadn’t interrupted my nookie. Wait I mean nightie, no, I mean neckie, I mean- RAGH! FUCK! But, I mean, not like-

You know what? You know what? I am just going to march out the door, and go talk to my sire about the crucified, decapitated gangbangers all around town, with their delicious, oozing stumps full of-

I am fantasizing about licking the stumps of decapitated corpses.

What a new and interesting low I’ve sunk to.

Okay, new step on the itinerary: Find someone to drink from. Maybe several someones. Because I’m thirsty, and I’m no use to anyone like this.

---​

Two hours later, Kayden opens the door of my sire’s Haven to find me on the doorstep, nice and full.

“Hey, Kayden. Is the boss in?”

“Oh, yes. He instructed me to direct you to him if he came to visit.”

She guides me down to the basement, where I find my Master in the middle of something I’ve never seen him do before: Relaxing.

He’s lounging on the basement floor, his white button-up shirt’s sleeves rolled back. Some classical music is playing in the background as he peruses through an Edgar Allen Poe anthology, and occasionally sips at a glass of suspiciously red wine.

“Master,” I say, dipping my head in a gesture of respect.

“Oh, hello, Taylor,” he says with a smile, which just looks… weird coming from him. “Care for some Amontillado? I mixed in a spot of blood, so it should go down just fine.”

“I guess I’ll take a glass,” I hedge, not wanting to be rude. There is a sizable portion of my brain screaming at me that everything about this is probably just some sort of elaborate illusion because the real Wiglaf would never be this friendly.

“You guess?” he repeats, amused. “Are you sure? You really must learn to be more decisive when you speak, dear girl.”

Whew. Crisis averted, he’s definitely still a prick, which means he’s the real Wiglaf. “I meant, yes. I’ll take a glass of Amontillado.”

“Good lass.” He pours out a glass for me as I come to sit by him.

“May I ask what occasion merited the drinking?” I ask carefully as I take a sip.

“We’ve secured a victory today. I rather wanted to celebrate in accordance with my usual custom.” He takes a sip. “And on that note, doing great, Skidmark!” He shouts the last bit towards the wall opposite us.

I turn to look, and then I do a double take.

The leader of the Merchants is meticulously laying bricks inside a low-ceilinged alcove across from us, slowly but steadily bricking himself in.

“He’s…”

“Earning the unsafe amounts of heroin I left in the alcove, which, once he’s done bricking himself in and chaining himself to the wall, he’ll shoot up with?” Wiglaf finishes in good humor. “Why yes, yes he is.”

“And you do this sort of thing… regularly?” I ask.

“When the mood strikes me, yes,” my master answers breezily. “So, what did you want to ask about?”

“Well…” I take the plunge. “Are you behind the crucifixion murders?”

“Well, obviously. Joseph doesn’t actually do crucifixion. Says that Jesus exalted it, and that we are unworthy to share his pain, or something. Personally, I don’t get it, but it’s a good way to pin things on him.”

“But… why?” I ask. “You’re going to start a gang war!”

“Because we can’t beat Lung, Taylor.”

“What?”

“Fire is our weakness. What do you think a firebreathing dragon will do to us?” he takes another sip. “So, we’re taking the psychological approach. Kill thirty-nine of his men per night, leave the heads in geometric patterns around his bed, that sort of thing.”

I… I don’t know what I expected.

“Is that everything you needed confirmed?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Theo, you great lump, come and show my apprentice to the door!”

A pudgy boy with a soft face makes his way down the stairs, and then sighs as I follow him back up them.

And then I’m out on the streets again, hands in my pockets as I make my way home.

Here’s hoping Tammi is up for a bite or two when she wakes up.

 

Three days after the disappearance of Skidmark.

“Are you sure?” I ask my informant over the phone. “Absolutely, completely sure?”

A few minutes later, I’m tossing my coat on and striding out the door. “Tammi, I’m going out. Try to get some sleep while I’m gone.”

Joseph has finally been spotted, in a nightclub not too far from here.

Unfortunately, Paul is still out on his campaign of psychological warfare against Lung, and Anna-Marie…

Anna-Marie isn’t an option. At all.

---​

Two days earlier…

I politely knock on the door to the warehouse where I was told Anna-Marie could be found.

There’s a shout of “Get the door!” from inside, and then the door opens, revealing a shaggy, rough-looking blonde man in a butler outfit. He stares at me with unfocused, empty eyes, and doesn’t say anything. For some reason, I feel like I should know who he is.

“Um… Hello?” I say after a few moments of silence. “I’m Taylor, I’m here to see Ms. Anna-Marie?”

“Okay,” he says.

“Could you… take me to her?” I ask after I realize that that’s all he’s going to say.

“Yes.” He doesn’t move or say anything else.

I sigh in frustration. “Then take me to her.”

“Okay.” He turns, and walks into the warehouse, and after a moment, I follow him, closing the door behind me.

He leads me through the stacks of wares, and into a sort of clearing at the center of the warehouse. In it, thirty men who I can only assume to be Empire thugs stand shirtless, tied to posts, as Anna-Marie, in all her bestial glory, stalks between them, her glowing red eyes glaring at them.

As I make my way towards her, I actually notice something besides her animalistic features. She’s tall, and broad at the shoulder, with raven-black hair drawn back in twin braids and plenty of muscle. Honestly, though, the shark teeth and glowing eyes are still the real attention-grabbers. The rest of her pales in comparison.

“Well, if it isn’t Wiglaf’s latest pet project,” she says, looking me over disdainfully. “What do you want? I’m setting up for the auction.”

“I was actually here to-“ I’m interrupted by the opening of some kind of portal.

“Fuck. All right. Stay quiet. I’ll do the talking, and make the sale. Try not to fuck this up for me, I put a lot of work into setting it up.”

A black woman dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, strides out of the portal, followed by some sort of living shadow.

I blink at it. Looking at it… it feels…

I stare into it, and through it, I stare into the Abyss. A solid projection of shadow. It…

I call upon my mastery of Obtenebration and push my blood into a shadow in the corner of the room. A shadowy tentacle pushes its way out, and I can feel it as if it’s my own limb.

So that’s how Wiglaf does it!

I realize, suddenly, that the woman is staring at me.

“Um… I’m…”

“Leaving.” Anna-Marie says with a glare. “I’ll see you in my office.”

She points the way, and I go in absently, even as, behind me, Anna-Marie resumes talking to the woman in a language that I think is Afrikaans.

Once I’m in the office, I sit down absent-mindedly, still lost in thought.

I had… I had just improved my command of my disciplines.

Why had I never considered that before?

I know the answer: Because I was thinking about vampirism like I was some sort of cape. And capes’ powers don’t improve or change.

Mine do.

I call up another shadowy tendril, wincing slightly because it’s actually somewhat expensive blood-wise, and then I begin to experiment with it, moving objects around the office and-

The door swings open, jolting me out of my haze of curiosity, and Anna-Marie enters the room.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself. You managed to piss off Moord Nag, and nearly cost me the sale. I salvaged it, of course.” She glares at me. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Why aren’t you thanking me?” she asks, irritated. “I just made us all about twenty thousand dollars richer.”

I stare at her, flabbergasted. “How?”

“How else?” she says with a smirk. “Slave trading.”

And just like that, my mood falls. “What?”

“Well, we had a surplus of Empire mooks on hand, ripe for the taking,” she says with a careless shrug. “I saw a profit to be made. I’ll admit, it’s a bit odd to be selling American white supremacists to an African, but, honestly, it’s a pleasant change of pace. And it is nice to be back in the flesh trade.”

I… don’t know what to say. I legitimately don’t know what to say. My jaw has locked up.

“Plus, thanks to all the parahumans running around, I don’t even have to cut their balls off to explain how docile I’ve made them! I can just straight up admit that I used my supernatural powers to condition them into being the perfect slaves!”

“C-Condition?” I ask hesitantly, as I feel my stomach drop. As bad as the Empire was, at least they didn’t enslave people. Are we… Are we worse than the literal, actual Nazis?

“Yeah!” she says cheerfully, seeming to warm up at the prospect of discussing her work. “I actually use a power from the Animalism Discipline to break them in. Basically, I project my own inner Beast into their souls repeatedly until it destroys their ability to want anything or stand up for themselves.”

“I… how does that work?” I ask, trying to seem more engaged, even as I’m desperately trying to think of some kind of escape route from this conversation.

“Well, in layman’s terms, I basically rape their souls until they can’t say ‘no’ anymore,” Anna says, almost seeming to relish my discomfort. “What’s the matter, new girl? Still enough of a weakling to feel sorry for the Kine?”

“No,” I say, and I doubt she believes me. I try to change the subject. “So, how’s Luke holding up?”

She frowns. “Who?”

“The kid from the farmhouse. The one who triggered. Wiglaf said that you were the one keeping him.”

“Oh, him?” she asks. “Killed him.”

“What? Why?”

“Kept saying he wasn’t a Parahuman, and it pissed me the hell off. Turned out, he was right. We did an autopsy, and he didn’t have a gemma.” She sighs. “Damn waste of my time, if you ask me.”

I…

I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take her anymore. I mumble out an excuse and leave, because even if she’d be willing to back me up when I find Joseph, there’s no way I’d accept her help.

---​

Present

I make my way towards the nightclub Joseph was spotted entering, clutching my trump card tightly.

Paul had enough arms dealer connections to get me the dragon’s breath rounds, and the shotgun. Even without other Kindred backing me up, I should be able to kill Joseph if I can hit him with this.

And there it is. One of the lesser-known clubs, a cheaper, lower-tier one, but good enough if you couldn’t afford Club Palanquin’s prices.

I can hear the music from inside, and a dearth of screaming, which means that my lead might have been false. But… at the same time…

I get my shotgun out, careful to keep it out of the rain, and make my way into the club. A quick Dominate gets me past the bouncers, and then…

I stop dead when I see what’s going on inside.

People are milling about the dance floor, completely oblivious to the hideously insectoid centaur-like abomination currently giving birth in the middle of the dance floor.

The creature resembles a traditional centaur, certainly, but its joints bend the wrong way, and its entire body is covered in chitinous plates. Its four, three-fingered arms wave enthusiastically as it attempts to dance along to the music, even as it devours a corpse and births an identical clone.

And then it spots me with the eyes on its back and waves at me enthusiastically. “Hi Lasombra!”

I have never been more glad that I can’t eat actual food anymore, because if I could, I would have vomited right now.

Joseph is here. That is now unquestionable.

“No one expects the Sanguine Inquisition!” someone shouts from behind me, and I spin about and blast him with my shotgun.

Alabaster grins, and then reforms. “Sorry, I’m not the righteous lunatic you’re looking for.”

Shit, shit, shit. I back away, desperately reloading my shotgun, as the immortal Nazi slowly advances on me.

“Ka-SHOVEL!” Someone shouts from behind me, and I feel a ringing pain across the back of my skull, and then nothing else as I slip into blissful unconsciousness.

 

I blink as I come to.

Joseph is sitting across from me. “Hey, Taylor.”

“J-Joseph.” I manage to get out, around the throbbing in my head. I’m a goddamn vampire. Why the hell does this hurt so much?

“I thought we should have a little talk,” he says, leafing through a diner menu.

As I look around, I realize that he’s leafing through a diner menu because we’re actually inside an abandoned diner. Alabaster and the horrific, now six-legged, centauroid abomination that I can only assume is Panacea are playing checkers in one of the booths. Joseph and I are in another booth, on the opposite side of the diner from his brainwashed flunkies.

“About what?” I ask.

“Well, did you hear the news, lately?” he asks. “Someone killed Shadow Stalker.”

“What?” I ask, completely taken off-guard.

“I’m not surprised you missed the story. The PRT is keeping it quiet right now. Apparently, that vile fiend Josephus of Cana has claimed responsibility for the killing,” Joseph says, flipping a page over in his menu. “Which is, quite frankly, news to me.”

“Are you telling me that Paul killed a Ward?” I ask, utterly flabbergasted.

“No, I’m telling you that Paul murdered a Ward, decapitated her, and then lugged her headless corpse into PRT headquarters, without being detected by anyone. And then he left her decapitated corpse crucified on Director Piggot’s wall,” Joseph pauses, and takes a sip from a thermos. “And then he framed me for it.”

“Why?” I ask, utterly baffled. “Killing a ward will bring the Triumvirate…”

“…Down on their killer’s head, I’m well aware,” Joseph finishes for me. “In this case, that’s exactly what they’re going for. They think that if you can’t kill me, then the Triumvirate might do the trick.”

“But…” something deep inside me curls up in fear. The Triumvirate is coming. They’re going to be in the same city as me. As us. What happens if they find out? What happens if they find our burgeoning vampiric infestation, and decide to stop it in its tracks? Alexandria, the immovable object. Legend, the irresistible force. And Eidolon, who’s both. Oh, good God Almighty, I might have to fight them.

“I’m skipping town, of course,” Joseph continues on. “So, don’t worry. They won’t be paying you a visit.”

I look at him suspiciously. “Really? Just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”

“No.” he says with a smile. “Well, not exclusively. I like to double things up, you know? Help my friends and advance my schemes at the same time.”

“Well, since my plan to kill you has failed miserably, and you’ve announced your intent to leave town, I’m taking my leave,” I get up from the booth and make my way towards the door. I don’t know what his plan is, but I want no part of it.

“Your father’s fine, by the way,” he says, before taking another sip out of his thermos.

I freeze in my tracks, halfway to the door.

“He tried to kill himself after your funeral,” Joseph says, perfectly nonchalant. “But I stopped him. I’ve kept an eye on him ever since. He’s a very sullen fellow, as I’m sure you’re aware. But I’ve done my best to provide emotional support, make sure he’s still getting to work on time, and ensuring he’ll keep on taking care of himself.”

“If you so much as lay a hand on him-“

“But, well, I was actually a little worried about Danny when I realized that I would have to leave him behind. I thought about killing him at the peak of his virtue, of course, but you’re rather attached to him, and I really wouldn’t wish to do you harm,” he continues amiably, even as I’m doing my level best to discover if I can still hyperventilate. “Then, I stumbled upon an ingenious solution: Clones!”

“Clones?” I hear someone repeat, and after a second, I realize it’s me. I… I can’t…. My- The world is blurring, colors blending together behind my eyes. I can’t seem to move, even as I hang off of every single friendly word, paralyzed by the sheer terror in my heart. He’s talked to my dad. He knows where my dad is. The most unstable, murderous member of the entire Sabbat knows where my dad is.

“Yes, clones!” Joseph affirms cheerfully. “You see, dear Panacea and I have been on a bit of a kill-and-replace streak lately. I’ll kill a good person and send their precious little soul off to Heaven, and then she’ll devour the corpse and create an identical, soulless clone. Bam! No missing persons reports, and a soul dispatched to Heaven all the same!”

He stops when I slam my fist into the booth, directly next to his head, and then fix him with a murderous glare. “Did you kill my father?”

“Of course not,” he says, looking offended at the suggestion. “I would never disrespect you like that. In fact, I’ve been doing my level best to make sure he doesn’t kill himself, and that’s going to be a lot harder now that I’m leaving town. But that’s where the clones come in. We must’ve gotten, what? Every one in ten people in Brockton Bay? All of them subliminally programmed with a certain set of commands. That way, with Panacea directing them (and she’ll have a direct line to me) they can keep an eye on your father and take care of him while I’m out!”

I slump away from him, feeling exhausted. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks puzzled. “Because we’re friends, silly. And friends don’t let friends’ parents kill themselves.”

I sit down on the table, hard. “So, then, friend. What do you want me to do?”

“Be you, obviously,” he says. “There’s a reason I pointed Wiglaf your way in the first place, Taylor. You’ve got what it takes to change the world. Maybe even save it.”

“You really think so?”

“Taylor, I’m a Malkavian. I know so. God himself has told me.”

“Well at least somebody believes in me,” I say with a snort.

“Trust me, you haven’t even begun to truly tap into your true potential,” he says, getting.to his feet. “You’re going to face a lot of challenges, with the gang war, and with Leviathan attacking. But this? This is where you’ll hit your stride. I’ll be back in four months, once I’m done taking over the Nine. See you around, kid.”

I wave as he walks off, still feeling oddly warm inside. He believes in me. I… how long has it been since someone said that? I still can’t…

Wait.

Hold up.

Did he just say Leviathan?

 

I wake up and glare at the severed head on my nightstand.

I didn’t put it there. All the same, over the past week or so, I’ve come to expect one. The other thirty-eight are lined up neatly on the floor, and, written behind them on the wall in blood are the words “YOU ARE NOT SAFE.” Just like all the other times. I ignore it as per usual.

I pull open the drawer to my nightstand, and find, to my annoyance, that my nightly visitors, whoever they may be, stole my cigarettes again. Bastards.

I get up out of bed, stepping on one of the heads as I make my way to the door. I also note with distaste that they stole the woman I was enjoying last night. Again.

I sigh, and then make my way through the safe house until I find one of my guards, a boy, maybe fourteen. The others are all gone, apparently having joined the collection of crucifixion victims. Pity.

“U-U-Um… Hello, Mr. Lung, sir.” The kid stammers out. I frown at him.

“How old are you?”

“Th-Thirteen, sir.”

“Have you seen any of the other guards?” I ask.

“Um, no, Mr. Lung, sir,” he says, shivering. “My uncle brought me in for guard duty today, because he said that he didn’t know anyone else who could fill in. Sir.”

I pause, considering. “How many were on duty tonight?”

“About five,” he says after a moment’s thought.

I pause, and then make my way back to my room, and count the heads.

Thirty-one. Whoever the killer is, they’ve never deviated from the pattern. Thirty-nine victims per night, no exceptions. If they’re down to thirty-one…

Fuck. That means there were only thirty-one left.

I turn to the boy, who followed me, and is now staring in gape-mouthed horror at the severed heads. “What is your name?”

“K-Kenan, sir,” he stammers out, as he tries not to cry, staring at one head in particular.

“Congratulations. You are now my second in command, at least until we find Bakuda.” My newest parahuman asset has also proven to be my most long-lived. Oni Lee died the second night, and afterwards, she stopped sleeping altogether, and rigged herself a tinkertech suicide vest linked to a dead man’s switch. “Why were you spared?”

“I… I don’t know,” he says, beginning to cry. I was never one for tears. All the same, it occurs to me that one of these heads must be his uncle’s.

“We will ensure that the heads are received by the authorities, to ensure a proper burial,” I allow. “After we have placed the call, you will drive me to Bakuda’s current lab. We’ll have to put out the word and call for a Somer’s Rock meeting.”

He timidly raises a hand. “Um. Mr. Lung, sir? I’m thirteen. I can’t drive, and I don’t know where most of the places you just said are.”

“Very well, then,” I amend, feeling a sting of irritation over the constant bubbling cauldron of silent FURY that is my soul after a week of waking up to my subordinates’ severed heads on my nightstand. “I will drive us to Bakuda’s current lab.”

“Also, um…” he hesitates.

“Spit it out,” I say with a sigh.

“I’m… kind of late for school right now,” he cringes as he says it.

“What.” THE LITTLE IMPUDENT MIDGET WOULD DEFY ME, LUNG? I draw back a hand, and-

I look at him, cowering before me. Was I that small when I was his age?

I feel old, all of a sudden.

Lee used to call me a teacher’s pet, because I never missed a day. Back before he was Lee, and I was Lung. Before Leviathan. I miss those days.

My gang is gone. My home is gone. Again. And there is nothing I can do to avenge them, because nobody has seen who did it.

I should be angry. I should be furious.

But all I feel is empty. And I have ever since Lee died.

“Very well.” I say with a sigh. “I will drive you to school.”

“Oh,” he brightens up. “Can we stop by my house to tell my mom that I’m okay?”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

---​

After we’re done stopping by Kenan’s house, I stop at a red light, a few blocks from his middle school. We’re making good time, and, according to him, he’s only missed a little bit of First Period so far.

Of course, that’s when everything goes wrong.

“Stop, villain!”

I turn and look, and there are Assault and Battery, along with a PRT Response Team.

“Is something the matter, Officer?” I ask, in as close to an innocent tone as one can get when he occasionally turns into a giant fire-breathing dragon man. Thank God I took off my mask.

Battery blinks. “Yes. You are obviously Lung, a known supervillain. That child has been reported as missing. And that minivan was reported stolen.”

“This is a convertible,” I say banally, trying to…

Wait. Why the Hell am I trying to avoid a fight?

“What?” Assault asks.

“Its top is down. It is clearly a convertible.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“It doesn’t have a top!” Battery snaps. “I mean- You clearly ripped the top off.”

“It is a convertible,” I say, pointedly not looking at the missing driver’s side door, lost when I ripped the top of the minivan off to give myself head room. “I have converted it.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how it works, buddy,” Assault says.

“I am the dragon, and this is a convertible,” I snap. “Now will you let me drive my nephew to school in peace?”

Kenan looks around for a moment, before realizing that’s supposed to be him. “Oh, um, yeah! I’m his nephew.”

“You sure, kid?” Assault asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“So, Lung!” he says, turning towards me. “Didn’t know you had a sister. She hot?”

Battery elbows him in the ribs, sparing me the effort. Instead, I fix them both with a glare.

“I believe that you have misunderstood something,” I say in a level tone.

“And what’s that?” Battery asks coldly.

“I am not Lung.”

“Oh, obviously. You’re just the other seven-foot-tall Asian man with muscles like an Olympic bodybuilder, with a penchant for riding around in stolen cars,” Assault says. “It’s obvious, really. My bad.”

“May I drive my nephew to school, now?” I ask, trying to restrain my irritation.

Battery looks like she’s about to respond negatively, but Assault puts a hand on her shoulder. “Sure thing, buddy. Hey, why don’t we make up for the inconvenience by escorting you there?”

If I were actually dragging Kenan away for nefarious purposes, that would probably have been a good way to call me out and bait me into a fight so as to save the child. But since my only real goal here is getting the boy to school and out of the firing line, this as good a way to get him out of my hair as any.

“Actually, could you give him a lift to school for me?” I ask. “I have business to attend to and cutting out this detour would brighten the miserable day I’ve been having.”

Kenan brightens at the prospect of getting a lift to school from two Protectorate heroes. “Can I go with you? Please?”

“Um,” Assault looks taken aback. “Sure, I guess.”

“Thank you,” I say after Kenan has gotten out of the car. “Please do hurry, though. He’s already late for First Period.”

“Second Period by now, actually,” Kenan says with a downcast expression. “They’re going to nail me with an unexcused absence, I just know it.”

“Just have these upstanding members of the Protectorate tell the school that this… Lung fellow kidnapped you,” I say with a shrug, ignoring Assault’s incredulous expression. “It sounds like the sort of thing he’d do.”

I drive off, leaving the confused heroes in my dust.

---​

“Bakuda,” I say as I enter her lab. “Report.”

She falls over out of her chair, spilling coffee all over her face. “Intruders!”

“No, Lung.”

“Oh.” She looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. “Hi, boss.”

I wrinkle my nose. “You smell like shit.”

“Haven’t bathed in a week,” she says distractedly. “I think the suicide vest might be glued to my skin by my sweat, now.”

“That is disgusting,” I say, looking down at her. “You will take it off and bathe, so as to make yourself presentable.”

“No! What if he finds me in the shower?” she asks, looking around desperately.

“You will also need to sleep. I will need you looking respectable for the Somer’s Rock meeting,” I tell her. “And do not fear. I will stand guard over you.”

I know what I must do, now.

I could not stop Leviathan from destroying Kyushu. I could not avenge my native land’s demise.

In like manner, I could not stop the silent killer from slaughtering my entire gang. But this time, I will have my vengeance.

So swears Lung.

 

“She’s still out there, dammit! I’m not abandoning her!” Bitch snaps, practically snarling at me. Behind her, her dogs growl.

I sigh.

When Tattletale went missing, I was surprised that Bitch was the one who absolutely refused to stop looking for her. But it’s been more than a week, and it’s time to admit that she’s probably dead.

“I know she is,” I say, not because I believe it, but because it’s what Rachel wants to hear. “But we have to attend the Somer’s Rock meeting in force. Show our strength, you know?”

She stalks off, slamming the door to her room behind her. The dogs follow.

“Well, that could’ve gone better!” Regent calls from the couch.

“Save it, Alec,” I snap, sitting down on the couch beside him, and trying not to sag under the weight on my shoulders.

Lisa went missing a week ago, and ever since, the city’s gone straight to hell. The Empire vanished in one night, ABB members, up to and including Oni Lee had started showing up as crucified corpses, and Lung had started going on rampages to find the culprit. As far as I know, he still hasn’t found them. It’s that serial killer, Josephus, though. Everyone knows it’s Josephus.

What the hell are we supposed to do? We’re the Undersiders, the little guys, the thieves who stay under the radar. Our Thinker’s gone, probably dead, and the city’s gone nuts.

I stare at the television, and whatever computer game Alex is playing, for a moment, reflecting on the hopelessness of it all.

And then I steel my spine, pull my balls out of my purse, and make up my mind.

Lisa’s dead. So what? We’re still here. And I’m responsible for keeping the Undersiders safe, healthy, and wealthy. So, that means there’s no time to mourn, or mope. We push forwards, even if things seem hopeless. And right now, that means going to Somer’s Rock.

“Get into your costume. We’re going, even if Bitch isn’t coming with.”

“Righty-o, fearless leader,” Alec says, pausing the game.

---

And so, the two of us walk into Somer’s Rock and find the ABB, Coil, and Faultline’s Crew all waiting for us.

“The Undersiders?” Coil asks, greeting us with a nod. “You’re two short.”

“Been a rough week,” I say noncommittally. “I doubt we’re the only ones down a few members.”

I move for a booth, before Lung shakes his head. “No. Take your place at the table.”

I blink. Really wasn’t expecting that. “We’re not really operating on your level, Lung. Hate to be in someone else’s seat.”

“There’s no one else to fill it,” Lung says dismissively. “Congratulations on your bronze medal.”

Alec actually laughs at that, the traitor, but I nod respectfully, and take a seat. If the giant fire-breathing dragon man wants me at the table, then I’m at the fucking table.

“Is there anyone else left?” Lung asks Coil after a moment.

“One more team that I’m aware of,” the man in the snake suit says.

As if on cue, a group dressed in red and black file on in, and the man in the Baron Samedi costume at their head takes a seat.

Going by Coil, they’re called “the Travelers.”

With the last introductions out of the way, Lung looks us all over. “I have called this meeting for one, simple reason: We are being hunted.”

“The Empire Eighty-Eight has vanished,” Coil supplies. “So have the Merchants, during the same week that members of the ABB have been showing up crucified and decapitated. Uber and Leet have vanished, and the same goes for a number of other independents.”

“Josephus of Cana,” Faultline says with a wave of her hand. “I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Literal Bible-quoting serial killer shows up, murders an entire maternity ward, and then people start going missing and turning up crucified. Case closed. And quite frankly, it’s none of my business if some among our little community can’t protect themselves.”

“Not quite,” Coil interjects. “Whoever the killer is, they are clearly targeting Brockton Bay’s villain community. If we do not stand together, then-“

“-we shall certainly die separately,” Josephus of Cana finishes for him, appearing in the chair next to mine. I most definitely don’t scream like a little girl. “Good quote. I always did like Ben Franklin. Now before you all start…”

“Get him!” Trickster shrieks from one of the booths. His teammate, the one with the sun on her chest, is backing away very slowly from the chair on the other side of Josephus.

“Before you start,” Josephus says again. “I’ve come to clear my name!”

“Really?” Lung asks, from his now-smoking chair. “Speak swiftly, then, madman. My patience is somewhat frayed, as of late.”

“I’m not the one who’s behind the crucifixions, or the disappearances,” Josephus says. “But I do know who is.”

“And who might these mysterious culprits be?” Coil asks, as everyone in the room prepares to kill the lunatic the second he steps out of line.

“They call themselves the Sabbat,” Josephus says with an easy smile, even as I back away from him. “Now, I might not look it, but I’m a man of morals. I always pay reverence to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I oppose slavery wherever it’s found, and I try not to leave a child an orphan for more than ten minutes. But the Sabbat? They have no principles. Only a ruthless lust for power. It’s why we parted ways, as a matter of fact.”

“So, what?” Faultline asks, as she gets behind her more durable subordinates. “It’s not you, just this mysterious organization that nobody’s ever heard about, which, conveniently, only you are in a position to know about?”

“Now, let’s be fair, here,” Josephus says, getting to his feet. “I’m not the only one in this room who knows about the Sabbat.”

He whips around like lightning, and shoots at an empty corner of the room, and everything almost spirals into pandemonium.

But then, we see what he shot at.

In that corner of the room is a shirtless, grey-skinned thing. Its face is rat-like, its teeth sharp and yellowed, and its skin is coated in warts and boils. It clutches its knee, and the bullet in its kneecap.

“The Sabbat are everywhere,” Josephus continues, as he strolls towards the terrified, previously invisible Case-53. “And they aim to rule this city, with all its Parahumans as their slaves, and the humans as their cattle. They rule the night, with a thousand unseen murderers on every street corner.” He turns to look at us, all of us. “They aim to rule you too. I hope you’ll choose wisely.” And with that, he walks out of the room, with not a soul standing in his way.

The creature on the floor speaks up. “Heh. Um, sorry, guys. Wrong room.”

“So,” Lung says, as he rises from his now burning chair, and makes his way towards the monster on the ground. “It was you. All the nights spent futilely, watching the shadows as my men vanished behind me, the mornings waking up to see the severed heads of those who called on me to protect them, and it was YOU!”

I very prudently get the fuck out of his way.

“No, no, listen, it wasn’t me, but… I mean, I moved the bodies, but I was just a grunt, Paul was the one who was in char-“

Lung rips his head off with a bestial roar, and then, once the babbling creature on the floor has been silenced, turns to us, already having grown an inch or two. “I will fight this Sabbat. Who stands with me?”

In the end, it’s unanimous. We will work together to end the threat of the Sabbat.

Woe to whoever stands against us.

 

We file into the darkened chamber, and take our seats around the dark oak table, a white handprint at its center.

Personally, I think that putting a white hand on a black background doesn’t really fit a group called the Black Hand, but I suppose that the reverse, with a bunch of vampires sitting around a white table, would be just as ridiculous, so I let the logo failure slide.

Wiglaf rises, clad in his dark robes. “My brothers and sisters of the Black Hand. We stand assembled once more.”

We bow our heads, and say in chorus, “May Cain’s will guide us to wisdom.”

I still have no idea why we’re apparently worshipping the first murderer, and at this point, I’m in too deep to ask without looking like an idiot.

“We are four, where ought be five,” Wiglaf intones solemnly. “Sadly, we have yet to find a suitable replacement for our… absent brother, and so we must go on as four.”

Anna-Marie rolls her eyes and shoots me a glare at the “suitable replacement” line. I’m uncomfortably reminded that every vampire here besides me is decades, if not centuries, my senior.

“Brother Paul, who has done good service and produced many worthy childer in the past two weeks, has called this meeting. Brother Paul? Your announcement?”

“Um, yes. Verily, I…” Paul begins, looking uncomfortable, before sighing. “Oh, fuck this, I was always terrible with Shakespeare, so I’m just going to talk like a normal person, now.”

“Ugh,” Wiglaf groans. “Youngsters these days. We already translated the rite from Middle English, what more do you want?”

Paul rolls his eyes. “Look. My fellow vampires, we have a fucking problem. The Kine are onto us.”

“How many?” Wiglaf asks, suddenly sitting ramrod-straight and wide-eyed. “Are they on track to find our lairs?”

“The local supervillains,” everyone groans, and Paul glares at us indignantly. “What?”

“We prefer to just call them villains, or villain Capes,” I say. “It…”

“…indulges their delusions of grandeur, otherwise,” Wiglaf finishes for me. “They are not larger-than life comic book characters, no matter how they style themselves.”

“Look, they are fucking supervillains,” Paul insists. “I have been reading superhero comics since 1938. I know a supervillain when I see one. And these guys are fucking supervillains. They wear tights, use codenames, do dastardly deeds, and one of them even has an elaborate underground base. And I get to fight them. Please don’t ruin this for me.”

Anna-Marie laughs at him, but Wiglaf just shrugs. “Fine. Supervillains it is, I suppose.” I give Paul an encouraging smile.

“Anyways, as I was saying before you grammar Nazis jumped me, the local supervillains, or at least the ones we haven’t wiped out, have become aware of our existence,” Paul says. “They’re calling themselves the Alliance for Brockton Bay, and they definitely know we exist. One of my childer, the one I assigned to spy on the meeting at Somer’s Rock, hasn’t reported back in yet. They’re setting up tripwires, locked doors, and passwords to keep my people out. And beyond that, I’ve heard multiple members of the Alliance talk about the Sabbat.”

“Damnation,” Wiglaf growls. “The Ritual isn’t anywhere close to ready, yet.”

“What ritual?” I ask.

“The Ritual that’s need-to-know only, brat,” Anna-Marie interrupts. “So. Wiglaf. What are we going to do?”

He sighs. “We’ll have to retaliate, of course. Paul, get your little pack of childer ready to hunt them. Capture if you can, and kill if you can’t, but above all else, no witnesses. There’s one exception, though: I want the one named Grue delivered to me alive and unharmed.”

Paul looks like he’s going to ask why but seems to think better of it. “You’re the boss, Boss.”

“And what should I do?” I ask my sire. “How do I contribute?”

“Stealth is king, in this upcoming war,” he says, brow furrowed. “Thus, Paul and the assorted Nosferatu childer he has Embraced will be the only ones engaging the enemy. However, we must prepare for the day of The Ritual, and on that day, we will need shock troops. Both you and Anna-Marie must build up a pack of your childer and bring them under your control through the blood bond.”

I raise my hand uncomfortably. “And… how do we do that?”

They look at me, and Paul grins. “Can I tell her?”

“By all means,” Wiglaf says, looking up at the ceiling as if begging God to save him from his ignorant childe’s stupidity.

Paul gets up, and heads to the utility closet, before returning with a shovel in hand. He presents it to me solemnly.

“This is your shovel.”

“Okay…?”

“I will now instruct you in its use, in the most sacred and ancient rite of the Sabbat,” Paul intones with deadly seriousness. “One first devised by our most venerable founders, during an Inquisition raid back in 1503, when they found themselves in dire need of some cannon fodder. It proceeds like SO!” He pulls out a shovel of his own and begins to act out the steps of this supposedly ancient ritual. “Step One: identify the target of your Embrace. Guide them into an isolated location or neutralize all witnesses. Step Two: Administer the Rite of Morpheus with your shovel!”

“Rite of Morpheus?” I ask.

“It’s a fancy way of saying ‘brain them with a shovel,’” Paul says with a shrug. “I think whichever Elder wrote the whole thing down wanted it to sound more self- important, though, so, ‘Rite of Morpheus’ it is. Anywho, Step Three: Drain all of the target of your Embrace’s blood, and then inject a portion of your own blood into any available orifice, be it mouth, nose, eyes, or open wound. Any port in a storm will do. Please note, that if you don’t do this fast enough, or if you’re unlucky, the Embrace won’t take, and you will have just straight up murdered a guy, so… good luck. That leads us to Step Four: Bury the body. If the Embrace takes, then your new childe will dig their way out of their grave, and everything’s hunky-dory. You have a new minion, and your newest minion isn’t dead. Win-win! If the Embrace doesn’t take, for some reason, then, well, you were gonna have to bury the corpse in an unmarked grave anyways. Now you’ve just saved yourself the trip!”

I stare at him in horrified fascination.

“Now, repeat steps one-through-four as necessary, until you have sufficient numbers. I prefer to stick to something manageable, like ten or twelve. You don’t want there to be enough of them to potentially overpower and diablerize you, after all. Then, Step Five: Instruction. Traditionally, this is simply a matter of pointing at whoever you want dead, shouting “Kill,” and whacking the newbies with the shovel until they get the memo, and then welcoming whoever makes it back alive into the Sabbat with open arms, but since you’re going to actually be using these guys for a while, I’d recommend blood-bonding them and then showing them the ropes, like I’ve been doing with mine.” Suddenly, a look of abject horror creeps across Paul’s face.

“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling anxious myself.

“Are we…” he turns towards Wiglaf. “Are we turning into the fucking Camarilla?”

“What?” Wiglaf asks indignantly. “How can you say that?”

“It’s just… we’re blood-bonding our childer, and trying to rule humanity from the shadows,” Paul says, looking almost nauseous. “We are acting very Camarilla right now.”

“I…” Wiglaf, for his part, looks a bit disquieted. “I… no. We’re not… turning into the Camarilla…” He pauses, looking abjectly horrified. “I mean… No. These actions we have taken are rational, measured, controlled. If we wish to survive and rise to our rightful position of dominance, we need to control ourselves before we can control others.”

“Like the Camarilla?” Anna-Marie asks with a devilish grin.

“I mean,” Paul interjects desperately. “We’re not turning into the Camarilla. We’re just being smart about things.”

“Like the Camarilla?” Anna Marie repeats.

“Oh, Cain preserve us, we’re turning into the goddamn Camarilla,” Wiglaf says, looking like he’s about to throw up. “And I can’t even take back my orders, because it really is the only way we’re pulling off world domination. Look, you know what to do, meeting adjourned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go rip a baby in half with my bare hands and lick up the blood just to feel clean again.”

He storms out, and we file out after him, some of us looking more shell-shocked than others.

I take my new shovel with me.

---​

“Alright, Taylor,” I say to myself, “You can do this.”

I grip the shovel tightly as I wait for the E88 member, one of the only ones I could find, to round the corner. When he does, I look him dead in the eyes. “Follow me.”

He does, as I lead him into the empty warehouse Paul loaned me.

And then he blinks. “Wait, what the Hell?”

We’re in the middle of the warehouse. I turn back to face him, and smile. “Social experiment. You’re free to go.”

No sooner has he turned his back, than I administer the Rite of Morpheus, and God damn if Paul isn’t right. That sounds way classier than “I brain him with the shovel.”

Right. I drain his blood, shoot some of my blood into him with a syringe (because screw bleeding into his mouth, I’m being scientific about this thing) and start digging.

Turns out, digging a shallow grave is a lot more time-consuming than it looks. In hindsight, I probably should’ve dug the grave first, secured my Embracee second.

Then, just I’ve finally dug four feet down, I feel something in my brain expand, almost as if I’m flexing a muscle I never knew that I had.

CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.

ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL.

And then, I stagger. Because, suddenly, I don’t just feel one body.

I feel two.

I climb out of the hole I’ve dug, even as my second body climbs to its feet.

I stare at the man I embraced, even as I stare back at myself with his eyes.

I doubt the others can do this, which means…

Memories dance before my eyes.

---​

“Joseph,” my master says. “In which house would we be most likely to cause a Trigger Event?”

Joseph looks up from where he was doodling on the window in crayon. “’neath bloodred shingles, the hook will land, and the whale will make a merry catch.”

“Thank you, Joseph,” my Master says.

“Trigger Event?” Anna-Marie repeats, curious.

“The mechanism by which the ‘parahumans’ of this world gain their powers,” he explains. “When the humans of this world are placed under sufficient psychological stress, they manifest superhuman abilities. I rather thought that we should try to get a look at the process. Who knows? We might get a proper ghoul out of this, and what better ghoul than one with powers all his own?”

“So, you’re telling me that, in this world, we can get ghouls with unique powers if we traumatize them enough?” Anna-Marie asks.

---​

At the farmhouse…

---​

“So, how’s Luke holding up?”

Anna-Marie frowns. “Who?”

“The kid from the farmhouse. The one who triggered. Wiglaf said that you were the one keeping him.”

“Oh, him?” she asks. “Killed him.”

“What? Why?”

“Kept saying he wasn’t a Parahuman, and it pissed me the hell off. Turned out, he was right. We did an autopsy, and he didn’t have a gemma.” She sighs. “Damn waste of my time, if you ask me.”

---​

Luke didn’t trigger and get powers. I did. And I got the power to control my own childer.

I wave my newest puppet’s hand experimentally, and then use his blood, and his body, and my command of Obtenebration to darken the room.

I can control my spawn. And I can use my Disciplines with their blood.

I take a moment to reflect on the fact that I just leveled the playing field, and then I laugh maniacally with two mouths.

It’d take an army to save this city and kill my sire.

And within the month, I’ll be one.

 

April 25^th, 2011

Timeline A

I peer out the window of our latest safehouse.

Faultline sidles up next to me. “Think they’re out there?”

Timeline B

I shoot Faultline in the face to check if she’s another infiltrator. When she dies without turning into a pile of ash, I sigh. Well, she was the genuine article. And I just shot her in the face, so this timeline’s getting dropped.

Best to make the most of it.

Timeline A

“Hm. Probably.”

Timeline B

In my soon-to-be-dropped timeline, I vault over the barricade, gun in hand, and run out into the street, screaming, “COME AND GET ME, SABBAT SCUM!”

They don’t break cover, but their rats do, swarming over me and stripping the flesh from my bones.

Timeline A

I sigh. “They found us, again. I can’t find the controllers, but there’s a rat swarm out there.”

Faultine winces, a justifiable reaction. The past month has given us all a healthy fear for the Sabbat’s favored attack vermin. “Regular rats, or…”

“The size of chihuahuas,” I confirm, still keeping an eye on the situation at hand. “Definitely enhanced.”

“Shit,” she says with a grimace. “So, time to relocate again? Someone will have to contact the away team.”

“Yes. They’ve found our base, which means an assault isn’t far off.” The war against the Sabbat is really more a game of hide and seek at this point. They’re inactive in the day, but, during the night, they can easily wipe us out by throwing a seemingly endless stream of cold bodies at us. Thus, we’re left searching for their hideout, even as they look for us. And tonight, they’ve found us.

Timeline C

I back away from the window, and then call Trickster to check in on the search team’s progress.

Timeline A

“Damn. I’ll get the others ready to face whatever attack the Sabbat are planning,” Faultline says with a sigh. “And, hopefully, we’ll have enough time to get away before they come at us.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” I say, backing away from the window. “We’ll just have to endure what they throw at us, same as always. We fortify our position, and hold out until morning.”

Timeline C

“Trickster. How is the mission proceeding?” I ask.

“Well, um, funny story…” Trickster says, sounding sheepish. “We… may have lost Lung.”

The past month since I threw my hat in the ring and joined the Alliance for Brockton Bay has been hectic. I haven’t been able to return to my civilian identity, because after Grue went to check on his sister and never came back, we all knew that taking off the mask wouldn’t keep us safe. Not anymore. My base was destroyed by a Morlock infiltrator who somehow managed to trip the self-destruct on the third day of our war against the Sabbat. My attempts to use my powers in my usual fashion, by remaining safely behind and splitting the timeline to allow me to ensure that an operation was either successful, or had never happened, had failed, because the Sabbat’s Black Knight, the Morlocks’ apparent leader, had a habit of assassinating me whenever I tried, forcing me to collapse one of the timelines so I could use my power to survive. And, to top it all off, the PRT, in spite of my best efforts, continued to deny the Sabbat’s existence, blaming us for the trail of bodies they left behind. The Sabbat were, if nothing else, masters of covering their tracks. Thus, every member of the new ABB was wanted by the police, all for the crime of trying to stop what might be the next Ellisburg.

With all that said, it’s quite understandable that my reaction to hearing that Trickster had somehow managed to lose our heaviest hitter, the only man the Sabbat feared, is to jump out the window screaming bloody murder, because I need to kill something right now, and rats are as good as any other creature.

This time, I actually manage to take a few of the little bastards with me.

Timeline A

I sigh on the stairs, heading up to warn the others about the Sabbat’s impending attack. And then I split the timeline.

Timeline D

I slowly and calmly call Trickster again.

“How the hell did you manage to lose Lung?” I snap at him.

“Look, it isn’t my fault!” Trickster protests. “The mission was going pretty well, actually. We were just wrapping up scouting out the block you’d pointed us at in the Docks. Sundancer and Lung were holding so they could respond faster if the Sabbat attacked us, while Ballistic, Genesis, and I handled the actual search. That’s when Armsmaster showed up. He had some kind of tranquilizer that let him shut Lung down, and… well, we were going to try and drive Armsmaster off, but that’s when the Sabbat attacked.”

“How bad?” I ask.

“They broke Sundancer’s leg, and Ballistic’s back,” Trickster says. “Armsmaster didn’t see anything, though. They were careful about that.”

“Of course,” I say, my voice little more than a frustrated growl. “It would behoove the Protectorate to notice the second Ellisburg scenario happening directly in front of them, after all.”

Whatever the Sabbat are, they can make more of themselves, from just about anybody. I’ve seen where that goes. Crawled through the bloody streets as hideous goblins howled from behind me.

“Yeah. Sundancer got tranqed, too. We’re heading back. The mission is a failure.”

I hang up, and quietly swear. And then I jump out the window again, because at this point, getting eaten alive by rats seems tame compared to having to face the Sabbat without Lung.

---​

Timeline A

We’ve just finished up alerting everyone to the impending Sabbat attack when everything goes horribly, horribly wrong.

I’m making my way down to the escape tunnel I included in the safehouse when the lights go out. All of them.

Timeline E

I’m conducting the evacuation with Faultline, when the lights go out. All of them.

“They’re making their push!” I shout as a warning, even as I flick open a lighter. Electricity and flashlights don’t work in this darkness. Only fire. I learned that from bitter experience.

Behind me, I can hear one of them breaking through the wall.

“It’s the Shadowbenders!” I call out in warning, even as five men, all dressed in black hazmat suits (and I didn’t even know they came in that color) enter through the hole they made in the wall, guns ablazing.

Timeline A

I flick open my emergency lighter, and, in the dim glow of the firelight, I find myself face to face with the Black Knight, in all his Tinkertech-armored-glory.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, his voice synthesized by the armor he wears. “Trust me, the party’s just getting started.”

I collapse the timeline.

Timeline E

“The Black Knight is waiting downstairs!” I shout, even as I pull out my laser rifle and return fire at the Shadowbenders. “We need to…”

Faultline screams as shadowy tentacles seize her limbs and drag her out of cover and into the enemy’s line of fire. The Shadowbenders, in perfect coordination, pump her full of lead.

“Shit. Fall back! Fall back!” Of course, shouting orders only makes me a target, and the tentacles drag me out next.

Timeline F

In this one, I don’t even try to rally the panicking capes. I just shout, “EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!” and book it.

Bakuda is upstairs, well away from all of this, but most of Faultline’s crew are here, and they’re dead set on avenging their boss. I thank the poor, stupid bastards for their commendable, if pointless, sacrifice as I run away, take a rolling leap out the first window I see, and run like Hell.

I don’t stop running until I’m three blocks away. Then, I call Trickster, and start setting up our next safehouse, and our plan for breaking Lung out, as well as coordinating efforts to find whoever else survived the massacre at our last safehouse.

Keep moving. Never stop moving. Always have another trick, always have another plan. And even if Brockton Bay becomes a second Ellisburg, I will survive.

 

It’s a Saturday night, and I’m sprawled out on the couch, calculating my finances, and checking the map to make sure I have sufficient informant coverage. Not the most glamorous work, but work that needs to be done all the same. As I do my paperwork, three of my bodies, Andrew, Tony, and Frank, make their way through the docks in their civvies, checking in with my informants and trying to locate the ABB’s newest base.

Paul was also working on intel gathering, of course, but, over the weeks our two packs spent hunting the ABB together we’d made the whole thing into a challenge, of sorts, to see who could find the ABB’s latest hiding spot first.

My original, grandiose plans of becoming an army of vampires had fizzled out a bit once I made it to twenty childer. It turned out that, like any other army, an army of vampires marches on its stomach. Considering that vampires fucking eat people, that quickly becomes a problem when you’re trying to fly under the radar. So, I decided to stop it there, at least until Wiglaf launches into his inevitable master plan and tosses stealth straight out the window.

My childer are split up into groups of five, and dwell in four separate locations spread out through Brockton Bay. I only use one cell at a time, only waking one group from topor every night, and making sure to stick to only one squad, to keep the ABB from hitting more than one location. All in all, it’s a solid blood conservation and information isolation measure. My real body has never even been on the same block as a member of the ABB, and I’d like to keep it that way. They proved themselves far too dangerous for me to allow them any clues as to my true lair.

Over the past month since they first lost Lung, our shadow war has settled into a holding pattern again, with the Alliance for Brockton Bay always giving us the slip at the last second. They broke Lung and Sundancer out within a week, of course. God forbid the PRT actually be good for something. But still, we’re wearing them down. Denying them access to their civilian identities and forcing them to deal with both us and the Protectorate at the same time means that they can’t replenish their financial resources. Sooner or later, they’ll run out of safehouses.

Tammi shifts in her sleep, snuggling her head a little closer into my lap, and I pause to stroke her hair. She always sleeps like this when I’m working from home, and it’s frankly adorable.

She’s been quite useful, over the months, as a test subject for Dominate, if nothing else. Having someone I’ve conditioned to unconditionally love me has been… nice. The way she bares her neck for me without a second thought, the way she dotes upon me, and hangs upon my every word? It makes me feel powerful, more than even the various forms I stumbled across with my improved Obtenebration.

Hm. It’s been quite a while since her last drink, hasn’t it? Perhaps I should reward her with another taste, as a surprise “thank you” present for her good work watching over me in my sleep.

Of course, that’s when my phone rings.

“Paul,” I say in greeting, because I recognize the number. “Good to hear from you again. What’s the occasion?”

If he beat me to the punch and found the ABB hideout again, I’m going to be pissed.

“It’s… well…” he sounds uncomfortable. “How good are you with the Dominate Discipline?”

“I mean, Tammi isn’t a Nazi anymore, and doesn’t remember ever being one,” I say off-handedly, remembering with fondness how I practiced the ins and outs of the Discipline by finding the formative memories that led to Tammi’s racism, and then rewriting them, all with the end goal of making her a more tolerant person that’s utterly devoted to me. It was a smashing success, too! Occasional crying fits that she doesn’t remember the reason for aside, of course. “She doesn’t even remember a single racial slur. Does that answer your question?”

Tammi is starting to wake up, by this point, so I look her in the eye and edit what she’s overheard out of her memories, replacing it with me gushing about how well-behaved she’s been. Wouldn’t do to make her question her memories, after all.

“I suppose it does,” Paul says, sounding relieved. “Look, could you come over? We’ve got a leak, and it’s the sort that needs a specialized plumber, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I’ll be right over,” I say.

The situation in the city has been getting precarious, especially thanks to Anna-Marie and her new pack of Gangrel lunatics. They’ve been causing numerous incidents around the city, and haven’t been nearly as subtle as Paul and I. The Protectorate might dismiss a body that pops up in the wake of the latest ABB incident with a slit throat as the work of the local villains but eating the Mayor’s cat in front of him and then drunkenly ranting about how you want to skull-fuck the Pope and you know Christner’s hiding him so where is he, is all well out of the bounds of plausible deniability. If Paul hadn’t found out and called in one of my bodies to handle the mind-wipe, then we would have been utterly fucked. And Mayor Christner would’ve been too, considering Anna was still drunk, belligerent, and had the strap-on on hand and ready to go when we managed to talk her down.

So, understandably, I don’t bother with walking, or public transportation. Instead, I step outside, walk purposefully into an alleyway, and then turn into a living shadow, seeping through a manhole cover and then drifting through the sewers with supernatural speed, until I come to the only Nosferatu hideout that Paul lets me know about: his own.

“Taylor,” he says, nodding respectfully as I ooze through the door. “You mastered shadow form?”

“Yes,” I say as I pull myself together. “It took a bit of practice, though.”

“That’s amazing!” Paul says cheerfully, practically grinning ear to ear. “Most of the other Lasombra I’ve known took decades to figure that one out.”

I blink at that, nonplussed. Was it really that hard?

I guess it makes sense. After all, I have a bit of an advantage. I have twenty-one bodies in total, counting my real one. Nowadays, I just use my proxy bodies to handle my actual work and the effort of keeping up my informant network, while the real me stays home and experiment with Tammi. Considering I can devote myself to exploring my powers full time, it’s no wonder I’ve mastered them faster.

“Hm. Probably just talent,” I say noncommittally, because friend or no, there’s no way I’m telling Paul about my training regimen.

“Probably,” he agrees easily as he leads me deeper into the warren.

“So, why did you call me here?” I ask as he opens a door and ushers me into some sort of prison room. I blink. “And why is there a shirtless teenaged boy chained to the wall?”

The room is, like most of the others in the warren, dark, damp, and cramped. It’s lit only by a few of those glow-in-the-dark bracelet type of things, and the dim red glow of Paul’s empty suit of Tinkertech armor, propped up against the wall.

But the primary feature in this little oubliette of a room is the slightly muscular blue-haired boy chained to the wall, unconscious. He looks like he belongs in middle school, and like that middle school was the Winslow of middle schools, because he looks like he just got treated to a curb party.

“Well, that’s an awkward story,” Paul says uncomfortably. “To start out, well, good news! We finally finished the job and killed Ballistic! Drove a piece of rebar through his heart and plucked out his eye for a trophy.”

When Paul had snapped Ballistic’s spine a month ago, we had thought that was the end of it. He would need life support just to breathe, so fighting us again was out of the question.

Unfortunately, it turned out that he could use his power on anything he was touching. Even more unfortunately, he tricked out his life support machine with spikes and battleship grade armored plating in order to essentially turn himself into something halfway between a human tank and a human battering ram.

“That’s great!” I say, thoroughly relieved. Seriously, fuck Ballistic. I had to replace a full five-drone cell after he doused his life support machine in gasoline, lit himself on fire, and then went full kamikaze on my guys. We’d thought he’d died then, too, but no. “Are you sure, though?”

“As sure as I can be. This is still Ballistic we’re talking about, here,” Paul says with a shrug. “But the real problem is that this kid saw me. And he’s a hero. I recognized him as part of New Wave.”

“Really?” Huh, New Wave… New Wave… I remember one of them had blue hair, who was- Oh, shit. “That’s Shielder. He’s in middle school. If he’s reported missing, or turns up dead, every hero in Brockton Bay, maybe even the entirety of New England, is going to come for our asses.”

“Good, because I didn’t want to kill a hero anyways,” Paul says, looking relieved. “So, do your thing. Make him forget.”

I sigh. “Alright.”

I get in closer, and slap him across the cheek to wake him up, because I’m going to need eye contact for this one.

“Hey, kid. Wake up.”

He screams, and then creates a force field between us.

“Well, that’s annoying,” I say with a sigh. “Look, Eric, isn’t it? What did you see?”

He stares at me, terrified. No. Not at me, behind me. At Paul’s armor.

“I… Mom always taught me-“

“Relax, kid,” I say, giving him a friendly smile. Well, as friendly a smile as I can manage, that is. My smile was creepy to start with, and it got worse when I got fangs. “My friend won’t be getting involved. This is just between you and me, for the moment.”

“I… okay,” he says, lowering his field. It’s all that I can do not to jump up and Embrace him the moment he does.

I excused not Embracing Rune because I needed someone to experiment on. But, ever since I’ve unlocked this power of mine, I’ve felt a burning desire to Embrace a Cape, just to see what would happen.

Surely, they wouldn’t miss him. Surely, a little heat would be worth the power, the magnificent data I could discover with a cape completely subordinated to my will?

No. I can’t. For all the reasons I gave Paul. But even so…

I want him.

Something in my stare must have hinted at my thoughts, because Eric is beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. It’s actually quite interesting to watch someone struggle to feel fear even as he’s being mastered into relaxing. Enough to take the edge off of my twofold hunger for blood and knowledge, at least.

“So. What did you see?”

“I saw… I saw that guy in the armor stab that supervillain, the one from the ABB…” he freezes for a second. “Oh, God. Oh God, they were telling the truth! The ABB is telling the truth! The Sabbat is real!” He freezes, staring over my shoulder at the suit of armor still leaning against the wall. “Oh God, you’re the Sabbat.”

I sigh. “Now, Eric, sweetie, that’s just ridiculous.”

“And the fangs! And that one guy looks like Count Orlock! And the striking at night, and the shadows, and cramped room, and the paleness, OH MY GOD YOU’RE VAMPIRES! YOU’RE THE ILLUMINATI! YOU’RE THE VAMPIRE ILLUMINATI!” Shielder continues, about one octave away from singing soprano. “Oh my god, I got beaten up and kidnapped by the VAMPIRE ILLUMINATI!”

At that, I loose my temper. “SILENCE, you BABBLING IMBECILE!”

He shuts up.

“Now, let me tell you exactly why your assumptions are ridiculous. Can you wait for me to finish doing that, sweetie?” I ask, trying to pull my smile back into place. Kids liked it when you smiled, right? I’m not that good with people younger than me.

He nods silently, his face pale.

“Now,” I begin, leaning in so close our noses are perhaps an inch apart and staring him in the eye, as he desperately tries to push himself back into the wall to get away from me. “Let’s start. You’re being ridiculous, Eric. There is no Sabbat. But, in theory, if there were a Sabbat, and I was a member, we would be in a real bind. You see, you’re a hero. People will care if you die. Especially your family. Now, in this scenario, the Sabbat would just have to get rid of you, and your family. Fortunately, they have a Master parahuman on staff. She’d waltz right in here, like I did a few minutes ago, mind you, and she’d make you forget everything. But her memory wiping powers aren’t permanent. Why, she’d have to make you and all of New Wave disappear, of course!”

“Wh-Why?” he asks, pushing through my silence command.

“Because without a good cover story, you would remember the truth, in time, and she wouldn’t know you well enough to know what sort of cover story you’d believe,” I continue. He’s crying, now, and I have to resist the urge to lick up his tears. “But she’d have an easy way to do the deed: A gas leak! She’d just send out one of the thousands of anonymous Mastered civilians she had seeded throughout Brockton Bay to your house at night, and he’d sabotage your gas pipe. She’d just have to trick her catspaw into accidentally killing himself, and bam! Cold trail. Meanwhile, you and your family would be peacefully asleep, as the gas crept up through your house, and into your lungs, silently suffocating you with no one around to save you.”

He trembles as I lean in forwards, our cheeks brushing as I lean in to whisper into his ear, “So, aren’t you just so. Very. Glad.” With every word, I tighten my grip on his arms, until it’s physically painful. “That there is no Sabbat?”

“Yes!” he screams, bawling like a baby, and I smell urine in the direction of his trousers. “So glad! So very glad!”

“That’s very nice, sweetie,” I say, letting go of his arms and smiling again (he doesn’t seem too reassured by my smile.) “Now, then. Let’s talk about what you believe really happened, and how we can work to fix this… Sabbat delusion of yours, shall we?”

In the end, we find a cover story that’ll stick, and then send him on his way. I do leave an implanted command in his head, though: One week from now, he’ll run away from home, and head to a specific, isolated pier, where I can take him for my own to my heart’s content.

After all, I want him, and when I want data, I get it.

Once I’ve knocked him out, and Paul is preparing to take him to the previously arranged drop-off point, Paul turns to me. “Um, hey. You want to maybe hang out for an hour or two? Catch up? I feel like we haven’t gotten to talk all that much lately.”

“Sounds great!” I say. It would be nice to chat for a bit.

“Awesome. Want me to pick up food while I’m out?” he asks.

“That sounds nice.”

“Cool, you up for Chinese?”

 

The alarm clock barks at me, screaming me into alertness.

I promptly groan, and then freeze it with my powers, before turning over in bed and putting my pillow over my head.

“Just five more minutes,” I groan.

“Dennis,” Mom says from the doorway, and like that, I’m up. She’s been going through a lot, with Dad in the hospital. I’m not going to add to that list.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, as I make my way across the hall to the bathroom. A quick rinse and repeated flybys by the toothbrush deliver a payload of toothpaste onto my teeth, and then it’s time for the most important part of my morning routine.

I smile at the mirror. “So, why did the chicken cross the road?” I pause. “To get to the other side!”

Hm. Sufficient energy, timing’s all right. Guess I’m good to go. I shoot fingerguns at the mirror. “All right Dennis. Time to hit the road. Today’s gonna be a good day.”

I don’t really believe that it’s going to be a good day. I haven’t in a while. But the ritual… the ritual is important. Dad taught it to me. Said that he used to do it in front of the mirror too, before he got his own genuine, living, miniature reflection to do it with.

And now it’s my turn to do it in front of the mirror. Because my bigger reflection is stuck in the hospital.

Fuck. Come on Dennis, hold it together. Keep on smiling. That’s what Dad always said. Somebody has to smile when things are at their worst, and crack a joke even on the way to the gallows. Might as well be us.

So I smile, and make my way down to breakfast.

I’m visiting Dad today, I decide. I might need to ask Gallant to cover my shift for me, but I’m definitely visiting Dad today. Maybe Panacea is… whatever the fuck happened to Panacea, but there are other healers. Other people out there who might be able to help. I just need to keep him alive, long enough for the PRT to send one over. Just… hold the floor. Keep him going. Then… then I’ll get more time.

But now, it’s time for school. So, I smile, and start going over my jokes. Because someone has to.

---​

“So, you heard about the latest bombings?” Bobby asks as he sits down next to me during lunch.

“Yeah, I hear they were quite a blast,” I say, leaning out of the way of Bobbi-with-an-I’s retaliatory cuff upside the head.

Many people would claim that I only befriended two separate people with identical-sounding names solely so I could pull a who’s on first joke. And to be fair, I totally did. But, at the same time, they were still decent enough friends.

“Very funny, Dennis,” Chris says with a groan. He had trouble making friends, at first, so I made sure to rope him into my Three Musketeers when I got the opportunity. “but, seriously, what’s this about new bombings?”

“The ABB blew up another warehouse,” Bobby says. “It was all over the news. PHO says they’re still going after the Sabbat.”

“The Sabbat isn’t real,” Chris says, rolling his eyes. “There’s absolutely no concrete proof that Lung didn’t just snap under the pressure of Josephus going after him and decide to start tilting at windmills.”

“I dunno,” Bobbi interjects. “Some of the posters on PHO say they’ve seen the Sabbat in action.”

“By, ‘posters’ you mean ‘tinfoil hats,’ right?” I say with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, yes, I totally saw the Sabbat! They were charging off into battle to stop an alien invasion by the Greys, and they almost lost, too, but then the cavalry came in: Bigfoot. Riding Nessie. You don’t remember it? Well, that’s because of the memory-wiping fluoride that the government keeps dumping in the water! I remember because of the POWER OF TINFOIL!”

“Yeah, very funny, Dennis,” Chris says with an eye-roll. But he’s smiling. “I guess they are a bit of an urban legend.”

“Even so-“

The five minute warning bell sounds, and our conversation is abandoned in favor of snarfing down our food as fast as possible, before lunch ends.

And then it’s back to another day of classes. On my way through the halls, I slip Dean a note asking him to cover my shift for me.

He’ll do it, of course. I can always count on Dean to cover my shift for me when I’m visiting Dad.

---​

I take a deep breath outside the room. All right, Dennis. You can do this. Even if it’s not spending time with him, not really, you can still hold out for a healer. Hold the floor. Delay the inevitable. And do it with a smile.

No matter how much it hurts.

I open the door with a smile, one I don’t allow to waver when I see him, lying emaciated in the hospital bed. He used to be so much bigger than this.

“Did somebody order a life extension?” I ask cheerfully, as I make my way towards the bed.

“Hey, champ,” he says, smiling back. “Maybe… maybe today we can skip that.”

I freeze. “What?”

“Maybe we don’t… don’t freeze me today,” he says, as I feel the world fall out from under me.

“B-But…” I’m panicking, now. “You don’t have much time left! If I don’t freeze you, then-“

“Son,” he says, and I feel a part of me calm down at his voice. The cancer and the chemo withered his body, but his voice stayed strong, even when the rest of him didn’t. “Do you really think that your old man can’t watch the news? Panacea isn’t… She’s not going to heal me. And even if she would, I don’t think I’d want whatever that madman turned her into to get its hands on me.”

“There are other healers!” I snap. “They could heal you! I’ll put in a request with the PRT, and if you can just hold on long enough…”

“Dennis, it’s fine,” my dad says with a smile. “The time you’ve given me is already more than a blessing enough. But, we both know that I’m not getting better from this. And… I’ve made my peace with that.”

“But I haven’t!” I shout. “I… I don’t want to lose you.”

I sit down in the visitor’s chair, my hands gripping the armrests like a vice. I’m not going to cry, dammit. I need… I need to stay positive. Smile. Be strong because everyone else needs me to-

“Dennis,” my father says, with a smile. “It’s okay to cry. I can be strong for the both of us.”

I bawl like a baby.

“Look. I get it. This whole thing… it sucks. I don’t want to die, Dennis,” he says, his rail-thin arms holding me as I sob. “But… I guess I’m not afraid to, not anymore. You’ve given me so much. More time to live. Time to set things in order. Time to see the incredible man my son has become.”

And with that, any hopes of me stopping my tears within a reasonable timeframe have been shot to bits.

“But… well, it’s a longshot, me getting better from this. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life desperately scrabbling after a little more time. I want to spend it on the people who matter most to me. So, just… for today, please don’t freeze me. Let me spend one of my last days on Earth together with my son, the superhero.”

I don’t know how long I spend like that, crying in my dad’s arms. But, eventually, I pull myself together.

“A-All right,” I say, suppressing a sniffle. “What to you want to talk about?”

“Well, for starters,” he grins, and elbows me. “Got a girlfriend, yet?”

“Dad,” I groan.

“What? You’re a superhero, now. Chicks dig a uniform. Back in ‘Nam, I was practically crawling with admirers. ‘Course, that was well before I met your mother.” He seems to think things over for a moment. “You with that flying cheerleader girl?”

“Glory Girl? No, not a chance of that happening. And I don’t have a girlfriend, period. No time.”

“Says the guy that runs around wearing at least five clocks,” he says with a raised eyebrow. “You know, I’m pretty well off, all things considered. Lived a good life. But I wouldn’t say no to a couple last-minute grandkids.”

“Dad!”

“Heh. Gotcha.” He laughs, and I reach for the call button when it turns into a hacking cough. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s fine.” He seems suddenly exhausted. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Being a superhero.” He smiles. “Not many chances to ask that question, you know.”

“It’s…” I think it over. Part of me wants to downplay things, make him think it’s no big deal. But he deserves an honest answer. “It’s either boring, or terrifying.”

“Heh. Like the army?”

“Yeah. Like the army. Usually, they keep us away from danger, and it’s all just… smiling and waving. Showing the flag. But sometimes, we actually run into supervillains, and that can be dangerous. I don’t really know what the hell is going on with the whole… ‘Alliance for Brockton Bay’ they’ve got going on now, but I ran into Hookwolf once, before the Empire vanished. I thought for sure that I was going to die.”

“But you didn’t,” Dad says, looking worried. “You’re not allowed to die before me, buster. I called dibs.”

I snort. “Sure thing, old man.”

And then, I hear the sirens.

“That’s…” I feel the blood leave my face. “Endbringer.”

“Well, then, champ,” my Dad says, and he still smiles confidently, even though I can see his hands tremble. “Time to save the world, again.”

I look at him. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll be fine. There’s a shelter below the building. They’ll evacuate all the patients there. Now go on. Your team will need you.” I’m almost to the door when I hear his voice again. “And remember! I called dibs! No dying!”

I grin. “Sir, yes, sir.”

---​

There’s already quite the crowd, when I get to the PRT building. The ABB is there, all of them. Lung, Coil, and Bakuda. The Travellers. The remnants of Faultline’s crew and the Undersiders.

One of the Travellers is in an iron lung, for some reason.

Villains from out of town have showed up as well, but I don’t know who they are.

“Right,” I sidle up to Vista. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing much,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant. “The other Protectorate heroes showed up, the assorted villains showed up. The usual.”

“Ah, yes. Heroes and villains desperately teaming up to fight of beasts of the apocalypse. That’s ‘the usual,’ all right. No, nothing out of the ordinary here,” I snark. “Hey, what’s the deal with the guy in the iron lung?”

“Dunno.”

“Huh.”

New Wave is over in their corner, sans Panacea. Legend is making the rounds, while Alexandria talks with Armsmaster. Eidolon’s over in the corner, staring stoically out the window.

“So do you think that this is everyone?” I ask. Before frowning. “And… is that a case 53?”

I point at the giant, seeming human-insect hybrid in the corner.

“No, that’s Panacea,” Vista says, and…

Oh God. That’s Panacea? Quickly, mouth! Spew forth a joke, so that I might focus on that, and not my horrified nausea!

“Damn. She really let herself go.”

Well done, mouth.

Vista snorts and punches my shoulder.

“We got everybody here?” I ask.

“Well, there are a few stragglers, but I think this is most of us,” Vista says. “I don’t think that there are any other teams that plan on attending.”

And with that, the doors to the lobby swing wide open, providing further support to my theory that there is in fact a God, and he loves irony.

“SORRY WE’RE LATE!” the intruder, a man clad in pitch-black Tinkertech armor, says. He strides in at the head of… Oh my god.

The group he arrives of is massive. At least forty capes. Maybe even fifty. Among their ranks are the capes of the empire, their swastikas replaced with the same cross-heavy iconography that the rest of the rank and file wear. Other missing capes are among them, all wearing the same getup. I think I spot Shielder, too.

Armsmaster steps forwards. “And you are?”

“The Sabbat,” the black knight says, standing tall and proud. “And when the Leviathan comes, he will not find us wanting.”

Oh. Oh, God. They’re real. They’re real, and they outnumber both us and the ABB combined.

“So,” Coil says. “All it takes is an Endbringer for you to show your faces?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” the black knight asks, looking over the ABB. “After all, I see you’re all here as well-“ He freezes when he sees the man in the iron lung. “Wait, you’re alive? How? I STABBED YOU THROUGH THE HEART!”

“Spite.” The man in the coffin answers.

The black knight shakes his head. “Yes, we’re here. What’s the plan?”

“We wait a few more minutes, to allow others to show up, and then Legend briefs us,” Armsmaster says, stern and no-nonsense as ever.

“Well, we’ll wait,” the Black Knight says. And with that, the Sabbat splits off into three groups. One looks brutish, and animalistic. The second are dark and shadowy sorts, who seem almost machine-like in their motions. And the third is the knight himself, who stands alone.

Well, I guess this is my only chance to ask.

I walk up to the knight. “So, the Sabbat. What’s it like, bumping elbows with Bigfoot and Nessie?”

“Alright,” he says easily. “Bigfoot’s a decent chap, but Nessie counts cards whenever we play poker.”

“She did seem like the type,” I say, pleasantly surprised that he actually knows how to take a joke. “So, did you make the armor yourself?”

“Nah, but we have a bunch of tinkers on staff,” he says easily. “So, what’s your handle?”

“Clockblocker,” I say, offering a hand to shake. I can hear Vista freaking out in the background, but I don’t freeze him. There’s a time and a place, and all that. “Yours?”

“The Black Knight,” he says. “I was originally thinking ‘Vader’, you know, to go with the armor? But even the mighty knights of the Sabbat fear the wrath of a copyright infringed.”

“Well, I can’t fault you for good taste,” I say. That gets a chuckle out of him for some reason. “Can it do the breathing?”

“Obviously! What kind of savage do you take me for!”

Our conversation (and information gathering session, on my part) is interrupted when Legend steps up to begin his speech.

“Thank you all for-“

And that’s when everything goes horribly wrong. Because that’s when the bomb goes off under Legend’s feet.

When the dust clears, he’s a glass statue, and so are the capes around him. Alexandria and Armsmaster were on the outskirts and have been partially turned to glass.

Everyone’s in shock, nobody quite believing what just happened. No one quite grasping the overwhelming, incontrovertible truth that one of the Triumvirate is dead.

And then, the silence is broken.

“That was one of Bakuda’s bombs!” one member of the Sabbat shouts, the muscular woman with shark teeth.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

Everybody’s shouting and accusing each other at the same time, and I can barely hear anyone.

I’m still in shock. The Truce is broken. The Endbringer Truce is broken, and Legend is dead.

And in this chaos, in this pandemonium, who’s to hear one distant voice shout out, “Wave!”

And then it hits, and the world is awash with blood and brine.

---​

I pull myself up from where I managed to land.

I can hear them fighting in the distance. Not sure if it’s against Leviathan, or each other. Even so, I pull myself to my feet, and make my way towards the sounds of conflict, to save who I can.

Because someone has to.

 

It’s late evening when I rise from my dark slumber to feast upon the living, which I note with a yawn. Tammi, of course, is watching me like a hawk, and beams as I open my eyes.

“Mistress!” she says with a smile. “You’re awake!”

“Yes, Tammi,” I say with a patient smile, even as I ready tonight’s five-man cell for action, leaving the other fifteen in torpor. “Did anything interesting happen while I was asleep?”

“A package arrived!” she says. “I didn’t get it, because I’m not allowed to open the door, but I talked to the deliveryman through the mail slot, so he left it in front of the door! And then I watched it through the mail slot for the rest of the day so no one would steal it! Did I do good?” She looks at me pleadingly, silently begging for praise.

I pat her on the head, and smile. “You did very good.” She bares her neck ever-so-slightly, and my grin widens. “And I suppose I could be moved to reward you.” She’s practically beaming in anticipation. “After I find out what’s in the package, of course.” She droops. “Stay right there, and be patient. I’ll be back in a bit.”

I go and open the door, and find a squat little package in rain colored wrapping paper.

“Huh.”

There’s a card on the outside, which I open.

It reads, “HI Taylor! I knew you didn’t already have one, so I sent you a raincoat! Good luck fighting Leviathan ninety minutes from now!
-XOXO
Josephus”

“Oh, shit.” Right. Time to rally the troops. Around the city, my remaining drones rise from their graves, as I call Paul.

“Hey, Taylor!” Paul says, picking up after the second ring. “What’s-“

“Joseph just sent me a warning.” I say, cutting him off. “He says that the Endbringer Leviathan is going to attack Brockton Bay, an hour and a half from now. I need your help.”

“This is Joseph we’re talking about,” Paul protests, “He could just be playing an angle.”

“Maybe, but if he’s telling the truth, then an Endbringer is about to attack my city. Our city. We need to prepare.”

“How?” Paul asks, clearly skeptical.

“We rally the troops, including our Parahuman ghouls, and then call a Council of the Black Hand to try and persuade Anna-Marie and Wiglaf to join in the defense,” I say. “And I pray that none of this will be necessary. But if the Endbringer sirens start ringing, and doomsday comes to Brockton Bay, I will not let it find us unprepared.”

“I understand,” he says, not even questioning that we should join in the defense when the Endbringer came. “I’ll ready the troops. Maybe make a shovelhead or two to bolster our numbers. Meet you at the Brownstone. Good luck.”


“Same to you.” And then I hang up. Not time to waste on goodbyes.

I march into the bedroom, where Tammi awaits me, her collar scandalously unbuttoned, and her head tilted back at an angle that makes me feverishly hungry. But I restrain myself.

“Tammi. Get your costume. We’re fighting an Endbringer.” I say, biting back my disappointment, even as, across the city, my drones begin looking for isolated targets to Embrace, in order to expand our numbers for the coming fight.

“Yes, Mistress!” Tammi says, already jumping for her costume.

God, I hope this is all just Joseph pulling a fast one on me. I’d much rather be made a fool of than fight an Endbringer.

But, even so, I plan for the worst.

---​

Wiglaf and Anna-Marie were both absolutely nowhere to be found when we tried looking for them. Their Parahumans, however, were. And they followed us to PRT Headquarters when the Endbringer Sirens rang.

We arrive fashionably late, and I let Paul take the foreground. My own “costume” is just a bandanna over the lower half of my face and some sunglasses, and I don’t want Armsmaster to recognize me from the Hospital.

Wiglaf and Anna-Marie’s absence gnaws away at me, as I absent-mindedly accept an armband from one of the Wards. Why are they missing?

I know it’s probably nothing good, but-

“Hey, sprout,” Anna-Marie says beside me. “Good work getting the troops into place.”

My train of thought promptly derails, and I practically jump out of my skin, even as I ready my thirty-two drones for a fight. Now that I look more carefully, I can see that Anna-Marie’s Gangrel have all filed in, using my Lasombra and Paul’s Nosferatu as cover. “What are you doing here?”

“Showing our strength, and that the Sabbat rule this city,” she says with a shark’s grin. “You should get ready for the scrap, pup.”

As I’m desperately trying to figure out what she means by all that, Legend clears his throat, and begins his speech. “Thank you all for-“

And then, in the span of half a second, in a single, all-consumingly bright flash of light, the world changes forever.

I stare in horror at the glass statue that used to be one-third of the Triumvirate, and at the heroes either fully or partially transmuted around him. So does everybody else. Surprise, shock, grief. They appear on every face I see. Except for Anna-Marie. She’s trying to contain a vicious grin and failing.

Then, she steps forward, and cries out, “That was one of Bakuda’s bombs!”

Everything goes straight to Hell.

Because while most of us scream accusations, or try to help the injured, Eidolon lunges at Bakuda with powers ablazing, and murder in his eyes. And Lung meets him halfway.

I try desperately, with all thirty of my bodies, to restore order, as Anna-Marie and her supporters sow chaos.

And then, I hear a cry of “WAVE!”

Things promptly get worse. Much, much worse.

---​

When the wave has abated, I take stock with my bodies, and realize that what was originally just a fight between Eidolon and Lung has devolved into an all-out three-way brawl between the heroes, the ABB, and Anna-Marie’s crew. With one set of eyes, I look towards the shore, and see Leviathan emerge, even as a massive wave rolls towards the city.

“Taylor,” Paul says, emerging from the shadows. “WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!”

“Anna-Marie and Wiglaf… I think they killed Legend,” I say, as the sheer magnitude of it hits me. “And Leviathan’s here. We have to… We have to kill them and put things back into order.”

“I agree. They have impugned the honor of the Sabbat, and potentially wasted the lives of millions of Kine with this petty power play.” Paul says. “My men will engage Anna-Marie’s. Our powers are unsuited to fighting Leviathan, though. Can you and yours delay him or drive him off?”

“Probably not, but if we work with the heroes, maybe.”

“Well, I think we’re at the point where nothing we do could make the situation appreciably worse. Let’s do this.”

And with that, we’re off, as Leviathan nears, and-

As Leviathan barrels towards us, Lung turns from his fight with Eidolon, and stops the Endbringer in his tracks, while Eidolon, behind him, suddenly flies towards the shoreline, ready to stop the burgeoning wave. I try to capitalize on the moment, and, through my drones, begin binding Leviathan with his own shadow. One set of shadow tentacles would be nothing to him, but twenty will slow him down.

“Come on!” I scream, desperate for someone to hear me. “RALLY TO LUNG! WE CAN STILL WIN THIS!”

Of course, that’s when Anna Marie kneecaps Lung from behind with a thrown streetlamp, and shouts, “COME ON, SABBAT! RALLY TO LEVIATHAN! VICTORY IS IN OUR GRASP!”

And, as I stare at her in seething hatred, beneath the pounding rain so thick it feels like a sea, the wave hits, blasting everybody back. In that brief moment, Leviathan snaps his bonds and falls back, and Lung follows, leaving us all in chaos. I watch with horror through sixty eyes as chaos once more reigns supreme.

I rise from where the wave washed me, ripping off my sodden bandana as I try to think, as my bodies try to stop the fighting, and Sundancer incinerates five of them for my troubles.

I can’t… I… I can’t stop this. I need to reign them in, I need to stop this, I need them to STOP FIGHTING AND HELP!

“Unknown Sabbat Parahuman!” someone shouts, and I turn to see Miss Militia pointing a gun straight at me. “Stand down!”

“Listen! I have a plan! I’m ON YOUR SIDE! If you’ll just LISTEN TO ME, I can help you coordinate, we can find the people behind this, we CAN FIX THIS!” I’m bellowing at this point, the rain rolling down my face like tears. “I CAN FIX THIS, IF YOU’D JUST LISTEN TO ME!”

“Stand. Down,” she says, continuing to point her glowing green gun at me, and…

You know what?

Fuck it.

I reach out through my shadows to pull back on her arms, fouling her shot. All throughout the city, my other bodies do likewise, acting to restrain Anna-Marie’s crew, or to secure more parahumans to convert, making sure they won’t be seen or interrupted. One grabs Aegis from under some rubble, another Dominates Hookwolf (who, along with the other non-Tammi Sabbat Paraghouls, has sided with Anna) to hold him still and then bites down, and with two bodies, I Dominate, secure, and begin draining a woozy Laserdream, taking no chances.

With the gun out of the picture, I lunge for my childhood hero’s throat, dragging the bandanna away, revealing that deliciously vulnerable neck of hers, as she struggles against me, headbutting me in the face to try and force me back. “All points, this is Miss Militia, I am engaged with a Sabbat-“ She slips her arm out of my tentacle’s grasp, and drives a knife into my shoulder, which I respond to by baring my fangs and lunging for her throat. “VAMPIRE! I AM ENGAGED WITH A SABBAT GLMPH!”

I cram a hand into her mouth to shut her up, pinching her tongue in a Potence-enhanced grip that brings involuntary tears of agony to her eyes. She stabs me again and again, even as I pin her struggling body to the wall and sink my teeth into her throat. She bites the hand in her mouth, but that just lets my vitae flow into her mouth, prompting a strangled moan. I groan as well, as I feel her sweet, sweet blood on my tongue, feel the blood within me healing my battered body, even as my prey ceases to struggle with a sweet sigh, and the briny rain washes over us, little waves smacking against us in the sodden streets of the city.

And then, she goes limp, and cold, and I let her fall to the ground. I don’t have time to waste waiting for her to wake up.

Hookwolf somehow killed the drone that was draining him, but I successfully Embraced Aegis and Laserdream. The question is-

“HEY LASOMBRA!” an unnatural, echoing voice says. “OVER HERE!”

I turn, and see Panacea, in all her hideously insectoid glory, waving at me enthusiastically.

“Panacea, what do you want-“

“You need more drones, right?” she asks. “Don’t look so surprised, I worked out what your Gemma could do a while ago. Now, then. Come with me if you want to win.”

I hesitate, and then follow, as, around the city, my other bodies continue to try and subdue Leviathan, the Rogue Sabbat, and whichever heroes or ABB members decided to attack me.

Panacea opens the door to a mostly intact warehouse, and I look in to see-

“What. The Fuck. DID YOU DO?”

Row after row of the exact same man, a handsome blond with classical good looks and no clothes whatsoever stare back at me, all of them linked by some raw, fleshy organism attached at the base of their necks. There must be a thousand of them. At minimum.

“I cloned my sister’s boyfriend. A lot.” And then Panacea grins. “I can give you an army. But on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“After you win, and if you take my deal, you will win, I want a seat on the Black Hand.”

“Done,” I say, after a moment’s thought. I don’t trust Panacea, but this much manpower is worth a few risks.

“Good!” she says, cheerful as can be, before pulling out a cable-vein from the biological apparatus connecting the- um… Vicky’s boyfriends. “Now, let’s get started.”

---​

CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.

ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL.

 

I freeze another hero as I move through the medical tent (such as it is.) “I froze Gregor, but he’s still in bad shape! Has Scapegoat recovered yet?”

Coil shakes his head in response. “No, I’m afraid not. And we still haven’t found Panacea.”

I swear under my breath. “Any luck finding other healers?”

“I’m afraid not. Othala is with the Sabbat, and the only other healer who showed up died in the initial wave,” Coil says with a shake of his head, listening to his armband’s now constant list of names. “Healing’s rare. We’re lucky we even found Scapegoat.”

“Fine. Any more of those regeneration bombs you got from Bakuda, then?” I ask.

“No. We used the last one two minutes ago, and with Bakuda currently being splattered all over Main Street, I sincerely doubt we’ll get any more of them.”

“Two more!” Trickster shouts as he and Genesis burst into the tent, bearing two injured.

I move to freeze them, sighing as I wish, not for the first time, that I had the power to heal people, not just… delay the inevitable. As I do, I take the time to ask, “How’s the battle going?”

“If we didn’t have Lung and Eidolon right now, we’d be fucked,” Genesis says, bluntly. “Everybody’s too busy fighting the Sabbat to actually respond to the threat. Hell, Leviathan’s practically taking it easy. None of his waves have been anywhere near as strong as in previous Endbringer battles.”

“He knows he can beat us without even trying,” Trickster summarizes. “And now, he’s rubbing it in our faces.”

“Sundancer’s still keeping the Sabbat at bay, correct?” Coil asks.

“None of them have tried to breach the perimeter yet,” Trickster confirms. “They’re still as terrified of her artificial sun as ever.”

I return my attention to healing people. The bodies are piling up, now, and we’re rapidly approaching the point where making the rounds to freeze all my patients will be longer than I can freeze them for. Still, I try. Someone has to.

I hear, in the distance, Leviathan and Lung going toe to toe, as Eidolon backs Lung up. The Sabbat, for their part, have failed to completely derail things. I think. Like hell if I know what they’re up to, they’re fighting each other as much as they’re fighting us and Leviathan. The real problem is that, with Legend… gone and Armsmaster and Alexandria both incapacitated, command has been a bit spotty lately. Organization has broken down, and nobody knows what the hell is going on anymore. Dragon has tried to coordinate, but… The Sabbat, unlike the Endbringers, can intercept our comms. And they’ve been terrifyingly skilled at shutting down and delaying our heavy hitters, and crushing most attempts to make a safe zone. Dragon’s caught up fighting Hookwolf. Rime and Ursa Major are fighting Purity and the Sabbat’s bestial foot soldiers. Stormtiger, Cricket, and Crusader are keeping Chevalier busy.

But all I can do is delay a few deaths. And so, I do that, doing my best to keep our fallen alive, in the shelter of the false sun. Outside, Shielder, Sundancer, and Vista work together to keep the tent safe, while Ballistic, Trickster, Genesis, and Glory Girl work Search and Rescue. Coil directs us. And Scapegoat, our only healer, does what he can.

“Shelter Seven has been breached,” Dragon announces through the armbands, and I feel a lightning-bolt of dread shoot straight down my spine. There are only eight Endbringer Shelters in Brockton Bay. My mom was at work, and my dad was at the hospital’s shelter, Shelter Three. I don’t know the number of the shelter nearest to the bar my mother works at. Or if she got into a shelter, but that… No. She heard the sirens. She got to her shelter. So, there’s only a one in seven chance that I’m halfway to being an orphan.

I keep refreezing the patients with renewed vigor. Anything to take my mind off the thought that… I didn’t tell her that I loved her this morning. My mother might be dead, and if she is, the last words I ever spoke to her would be me yeah-yeahing her. I spent so long so terrified that Dad was going to die, I…

I never thought that I could lose Mom, too.

I keep moving between the cots, freezing who I can. Scapegoat’s a slow healer, he can’t heal very many people at once, so I have to buy him time. It’s something only I can do.

It’s the only thing I can do.

Please. Please be okay.

Then, I feel the ground shake, as a voice echoes over the armbands: “Lung Down. Leviathan headed towards Medical Tent. All available units, please-”

The tent collapses, dragged away by a hurled telephone pole, and leaving us exposed to the biblical deluge pouring down from the sky. But, unlike most of the rest of the city, we have a miniature thermonuclear fireball hovering over our heads courtesy of Sundancer, serving as a combination of superheated umbrella and Sabbat repellent. The rain barely touches us, and the light leaves us toasty, and with an excellent view of the Endbringer barreling straight towards us, closing the distance faster than Vista can bend space.

The world seems to freeze around me, and for a second, suspended between two terrified heartbeats, I could almost swear that I can see every single individual raindrop as it falls.

And all I can think is, “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about outliving my parents anymore.”

And then, the night comes alive, and a thousand shadowy tentacles seize him, stopping the Endbringer in his tracks.

“Okay,” I say, trying to calm my wildly racing heart, and the world resumes around me. “Did we just get saved by a tentacle monster?”

And then, I see my teammate’s naked ass, as, for some reason, an army of naked pretty boys who look exactly like my teammate Dean rugby tackle Leviathan.

My mind stalls. Once it starts back up again, I’m left with a lot of questions. Is that Gallant? Why is he naked? Why are there so many of them? Am I on drugs? Is he bigger than me?

“They’re all vampires!” Sundancer shouts. “Shadow-types! No reflections!”

I tap my armband twice, in order to broadcast. “All points, this is Clockblocker. Leviathan has been halted in front of the med tent by an army of vampire clones of…” shit, can’t call him Gallant. That’d out him. What’s the next-best thing that most people will recognize him from? “Glory Girl’s boyfriend. And no, I am not making this up. Reinforcements (and explanations) would be greatly appreciated.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Glory Girl screams as she flies in with an injured out of towner in her arms. “I… what? What the hell is happening right now?”

“I’m as lost as you,” I say with a shrug.

“Your paramour seems to have somehow duplicated himself, and is now eating Leviathan,” Coil says matter-of-factly. “He didn’t happen to mention any starfish ancestry to you, by any chance?”

“I…well, no.” Glory Girl says, looking absolutely baffled.

“Any potential trigger events recently?” he asks. “It’s possible that he triggered during the attack, and the Sabbat turned him.”

“Turned him?” she repeats.

“Yeah, sorry to break it to you, Vicky, but your boyfriend is apparently a vampire now,” I say with a shrug. “All five hundred of him. And I somehow doubt he’s the kind that sparkles.”

“I… wait, no,” she freezes. “Is Gallant alive?”

“Yes!” a warbling, buzzing, watery sort of voice interjects. “We haven’t had to replace him all battle! We’re very proud. He’s an excellent Dean!”

I shudder as Panacea, or at least I think that’s Panacea, emerges from an alleyway. Her entire body has changed once more, this time by replacing her lower half with octopoid tentacles and expanding her braincase. She’d almost look like Ursula, if not for her grotesquely distended head.

Coil points a gun at her. “Panacea. What are you doing here?”

“Helping!” she says cheerfully. “We already helped our friend Lasombra by giving her an army of Dean clones, and now we are here to help by healing people!”

“WHY DID YOU HAVE AN ARMY MADE OUT OF CLONES OF MY BOYFRIEND?” Glory Girl screams, looking like she’s five seconds away from beating her sister to death with her bare hands.

“So we could replace him if he died, obviously!” Panacea says. “We wouldn’t want you to be sad, after all, Vicky!”

“I literally do not know you,” Glory Girl hisses.

I blink. “That’s Panacea. She’s your sister.”

“And as far as I remember, I’m an only child!” Glory Girl snaps. “Then, suddenly, everybody starts trying to convince that I’ve always had a sister, who, by the way, this bitch looks nothing like! In absolutely none of the photos that my boyfriend keeps insisting on showing me did this ‘Amy’ person have tentacles!”

“Um, guys, Endbringer RIGHT THERE!” Vista interjects. “And y’know, while I can definitely keep layering on space between us and it, I’d really appreciate it if you guys would just let the BEST HEALER WE’VE GOT do her job, so we can all get the hell out of here before Leviathan finishes with Glory Girl’s army of vampire boyfriends and remembers that we exist!”

“Vista’s right,” I say, taking control of the conversation before this whole argument can start again. “Amy, can you get everyone here on their feet and able to move while Vicky’s Vampire Boyfriend Brigade keeps Leviathan busy?”

“WE ARE NOT CALLING IT THAT!” Vicky screams indignantly.

“Sure thing, Clockblocker!” Panacea says, moving in and stretching out her arms and tentacles to touch as many people at once as she is able to. With the insane biokinetic taken care of, I turn to Glory Girl.

“Vicky, I want you to try to find Gallant. He might have some idea what’s going on right now, and besides, search and rescue doesn’t work unless you have a fixed return point, and we’re going to be on the move shortly,” I say. My teeth aren’t visible through my mask, but I give her a reassuring smile anyways. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on either, but I promise, we’re going to get through this. And, once you’ve found Gallant, I have another mission for you.”

Coil seems to know what I’m thinking, and he nods in agreement, before moving to the covered cot in the center of the tent, and pulling back the blanket. “We need you to take this out of the city. And spread the word: Once Leviathan falls, we retreat.”

She stares in shock. “Is that…”

The Glass Statue Formerly Known As Legend simply stares up at Sundancer’s glowing orb, dead to the world.

“Who knows,” I say with a shrug. “Maybe someone might be able to revive him. Maybe not. But that goes straight out the window if he’s stuck in here after the fight’s over, and the Sabbat take over Brockton Bay.”

“I talked it over with Clockblocker,” Coil says. “Told him what I know. I’ve been trying to get Piggot to listen for months, and now, the evidence is incontrovertible. The Sabbat are real, and they’re contagious. Not only that, but infected capes keep their powers. That makes them a Nilbog-tier threat. Even if we drive off Leviathan, Brockton Bay may be lost. We plan on getting as many capes out as possible. But we’ll need at least one to bear the message.”

“If we announced it on comms, the Sabbat would hear,” I say, taking up the explanation. “But you can fly. So get Legend out. Get yourself out. Get Gallant out, if you can. But most importantly, get word out. So you can tell them what happened, if worst comes to worst.”

She looks between us incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, for once,” I say with a snort, before sobering up. “Victoria. Please.”

“Fine. Try not to die, all right?”

And then she’s off, the fragile form of a Triumvirate member in her arms.

---​

Leviathan has long since staggered away from us, shaking and tearing at the Deans which gnaw at him like ticks on a dog, by the time we’ve got all of our patients up and ready to go. Most of them can only stagger forwards, but that’s fine. We have Vista.

Just after she, Scapegoat, and Shielder have set off with our patients, evacuating them from the city, we hear, over the comms, the five most beautiful words in the English language: “Leviathan has been driven off.”

“Holy shit,” I say, pleasantly surprised. “Who do you think did it?”

“Probably either Lung, or whatever Sabbat Master was controlling the VVBB earlier,” Coil says. “Either way, now we just need to deal with the potential vampire apocalypse, and pray to God that these monsters are weak to sunlight.”

“We’re good to go, then, aren’t we?” Trickster asks, from where he sits with his team.

“Once Vista comes back, yes,” Coil says. “Until then, we maintain the safe zone to help uninfected capes get here and hopefully, escape with us.”

“Hey!” I point towards the horizon. “It’s rising! The sun is rising!”

I can see it, now. The rosy glow creeping up from the horizon. The promise of a new day, that this dark and terrible nightmare was at an end. It’s going to be okay. The night is over, and- Oh shit, I’m jinxing it, aren’t I?

In one instant, in a single moment, the sky goes dark. Everything goes dark. Outside the light of Sundancer’s personal star, the air has turned murky, and thick.

I remember, once, my science teacher telling me that darkness isn’t actually light’s opposite. Simply the lack thereof. But this… the shadows into which we are plunged… They make me question her.

Oh, God. Oh God, no.

A voice surrounds us. It’s obviously female, but hoarse, and raspy. “The sun will not come.”

“What is that?” Trickster yelps. “Where is it coming from?”

“We are Lasombra. We are the night. We are the King of the Sabbat. And we are the shadow that rules over Brockton Bay,” the voice continues.

“They blocked out the sun,” Coil murmurs. “How is that even possible?”

“Oh, it’s not too hard,” Panacea says with a far-too-wide smile. “They’ve been planning this for quite some time, after all.”

“The sun will never come again. There is no escape from this Abyss over which we rule. This city is ours, and we will rule it better than our predecessors,” the voice continues, and her words echo through my bones. “The humans have proven too weak to defend themselves, the parahumans too fractious to be trusted. And so, we have taken control. We are this city’s sole and absolute master. To the Kine, huddled in your bunkers, we bid you to have no fear. We will be a fair and benevolent ruler. We have driven back the Leviathan, and we will permit no harm to come to you. To the Parahumans, we give this warning: It matters not if you come to us as allies or as enemies. Friend or foe, living or dead, you will serve the Sabbat.”

And then, there is silence.

I turn to Panacea. “Are you with us, or against us?”

“We’d prefer to remain neutral. But we can leave if we’re making you uncomfortable,” she says, before she slithers off through the shadowed streets of the half-drowned city.

“We have to get out of here,” Trickster says, looking half-mad with fear. “We have to get out of here.”

“You’re right,” I admit, before I turn towards Coil. “You seem like the smartest guy here, so let me ask: How long can an Endbringer Shelter hold out for?”

“About a week,” he says.

“Good. So. Here’s the plan: We set up shop inside an Endbringer Shelter. It’s a defensible location, it gives us resources, it lets us protect civilians from the Sabbat, and, most importantly, it’ll let us hold out for longer, so we can spend time figuring out what’s happened and how we can escape. I sincerely doubt that whatever the Sabbat just pulled is going to be easy to get out of.”

“And since when were you in charge?” Trickster asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You got a better plan? Because if so, I’d love to hear it.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

And, so, with the false sun above us, we try to find a shelter, through the drowned city, in the shadows that devoured the Bay.

 

We are legion.

Our drones sweep over the city. Our prey is cornered and indoctrinated, converted into new and increasingly more powerful extensions of our will. The Terror Drone is a threat, but one that we can contain. We are more than any one body. More than any one vampire. More than any one Shard. Our first body uses the connection embedded in our blood, tracking it to the source of our unlife. With our first are the ones that were Laserdream, Aegis, and Miss Militia, and a hundred Deans.

We shall devour. We shall fight. We shall feast until our hunger is sated, our data gathered, and our progenitors consumed. And we shall surpass them both. Our purpose, our directive, shall be fulfilled.

The streets are damaged, and the way blocked so thoroughly that it takes us almost an hour to reach our blood’s progenitor, but we find him, in the brownstone that he had claimed as his lair. The black-armored Nosferatu finds us nearby, and he makes sounds at us. We do not care. Do not hear. Do not understand. We are entwined, we are one, our bloods wound together in an endless dance of bliss. We do not need to care. We do not need to hear. We are one. An arterial ouroboros, creation and destruction in perfect unison. We need no one but ourselves, and in time, we shall be in ourself a world in its totality.

The door splinters with a blow from one of our Deans, as our bodies fighting the Terror Drone note an Endbringer shelter has been blasted open. Beside us, the Nosferatu babbles on. We prepare to diablerize it. It would not do to leave those who cannot be incorporated alive. At the same time, we direct our drones to enter the shelter to drink their fill of blood and create new drones.

And then, through the eyes of the Deans at the shelter, we see someone who makes us stop in our tracks.

My father stands up, pushing his way ahead of the other cattle, head unbowed. He is diminished, thinner than I thought possible. His face is lined with grief. His clothes and glasses are filthy. And his eyes… there is something empty behind his eyes, something missing, whose presence endured even after my mother’s death, and whose absence now makes my heart ache. But even so. He stands. My father stands.

And he speaks. I force myself to remember the words, to remember what the sounds mean, just so I can hear my father talk to me again.

“So,” he says, fixing me with the glare of someone who has nothing left to lose. My whole consciousness rests in that moment, in those eyes seeing him again, in those ears hearing him speak. My father. The only family I have left. “You’re the Sabbat. If you’re here to kill us, then get it over with. We’ll fight you. Won’t slow you down much, but we’ll fight you.”

“We-“ I say through the Dean, almost startled to hear a voice besides my own when I speak. “Are not here to harm you.”

This is false. But… No. I am a monster. But I will never hurt him. I won’t let him see what I’ve become.

He seems surprised by that. “Well. Endbringer’s out that way, if you’re in the mood to do your damn jobs for a change. We’re fine in here.”

My mind unfocuses from those three Deans, even as I direct them out of the shelter and towards the fight.

I feel it again. The mesmerizing, intoxicating symbiosis that is us. I know I will fall to it in time. But… No. Not now.

I look myself in the eyes through a Dean, and I force myself to forget. I force myself to forget that there is an us. I force myself to think like a human. I force myself to be Taylor again.

And then, it is done. I am I once more.

---​

“Taylor!” someone screams. “Snap out of it!”

I blink, the rain pouring down my face, drenching my hair, as I try to figure out what the hell just happened and why I’m not in the warehouse with Panacea anymore.

“What?” I mumble. I feel, muted, my drones. They conform to my will, but… it’s distant, somehow. As if there’s some unperceivable barrier between me and them. I can feel a few swarms of them fighting Leviathan, a few more going around on clean-up duty, and, of course, the swarm of Deans and Embraced Capes currently with me.

And then I turn my attention to the man shouting at me. Who turns out to be Paul.

“Why are you on the ground?” I ask. Because he is. He’s currently pinned down under twenty Deans, who seem to have frozen up in the middle of trying to pry off his armor for some reason.

“Because you started acting like you were possessed! You attacked me!” Paul yells, sounding thoroughly nettled. “What the hell, Taylor?”

“Oh. I… don’t actually remember doing that.” I blink, then remember something. “I think Wiglaf’s in this building, by the way.”

“Yes, well, as I was trying to warn you while you were busy trying to reenact something out of The Exorcist, Anna-Marie is coming!” Paul shouts, as my Deans get off of him and help him to his feet. “And she’s bringing Hookwolf with her. I tasked a couple of my kids to delay them while I went to get you, but they won’t hold for-“

I am cut off from hearing the rest of Paul’s sentence, because something hits me like a freight train. I respond accordingly, using a few Deans and Obtenebration to drag my attacker off of me, but most of my left side is shredded. And Hookwolf is ready and willing to make me symmetrical if I give him half a chance.

I take in the situation. I’m fighting off Hookwolf with Aegis and my Deans, while Paul is slashing at a hideous mixture of wolf, bat and human that I’m guessing is Anna-Marie’s war form. But it’s not worth engaging them. They’re only here to delay us. To keep us away from whatever Wiglaf is up to. So, I leave behind most of my Deans to keep Hookwolf and Anna busy, and I take Miss Militia and Laserdream with me as I duck into the brownstone, using my blood to heal up as I go.

And then I swear like a sailor and hit the deck as a beam of pure solar energy sails over my head.

Because it turns out, Wiglaf wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the only people in this entire city who could find him here was his fellow Sabbat members. And he clearly expected me to rebel, because he put the worst possible cape for me to fight on guard duty.

“Hello, Kayden,” I say, even as I stare up at the glowing woman pointing a single, glowing hand at my face. “How’re the kids?”

I roll out of the way as her blast slams into the floor where I was.

“Safe.” Kayden says, glowing with rage as much as sunlight. Just being near her is making my skin smolder. “As far away from any of you monsters as Theo can manage. He’s a good boy. He’ll run far. None of you will find them.”

“What?” I ask, partly out of confusion, and partly to keep her eyes on me while I had Miss Militia crawl out of sight. I know the brownstone’s floor plan. And Miss Militia can make an anti-materiel rifle. Hopefully I can use those two things to put Purity down.

“You…” her words are cut off by a snarl of rage, and another blast of light I barely evade. I have Laserdream throw up a shield as I move Miss Militia into position. “You have no idea what you did to me, to us, do you? You have no idea what you delivered us into!”

I’d punch her in the face to punish her for monologuing, but I can’t even get close to her. So instead, I do my best to keep her talking, as I desperately try to figure out where on the wall to shoot through in order to hit her. “Enlighten me.” I wince at the pun.

“He hurt her. He hurt my Aster. At first, he just hurt me when I tried to resist, but… Then, he got the blood in me. And it was like Max, but worse, because he was in my head! And the blood was sweet, and I couldn’t tell him not to. He’d hit me, make me use the blood to heal, all so he could get me more addicted, and if I complained, if I tried to work around my orders, he’d hurt Aster! Sometimes, he’d hurt Theo too, but he always hurt Aster.” Kayden says, her voice quavering, even as the nimbus of light around her hands continues to grow brighter and brighter. “And… a week ago, he’d… he’d been starving me for blood, been making me desperate, and… he told me I had to prove my loyalty, prove that I loved the blood more than anything else. And he locked me up in a room with Aster, made it so I couldn't use my powers, and…”

Her voice sounds distant now, like she’s somewhere far away. “I… I hurt her. Her thumbs are all twisted now, did you know that? That Anna-Marie woman broke them so many times that the bones healed wrong. My poor baby. My poor darling Aster. And I hurt you. For the blood. For a fix. For him. I hurt you. I still remember your screams, sweetie. I still remember how you looked at me, when your mommy took your little fingers in your hands and-“

“It’s okay,” I offer up, trying to comfort the woman I’d once brained with a shovel, even as she seems to lose her grip on sanity.

“No. It’s not. It’s never going to be okay again,” she says, her voice now frighteningly calm. “But that’s fine. Theo took her and ran yesterday. He has his inheritance. He has his sister. He doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need me. And I can make them safe.” He face hardens. “It was a mistake to let me talk, vampire. The only two people in the world that I care about are out of the building. And I don’t care if this kills me.”

Oh God. I realize that the only time I’ve seen her hands shining that bright in any of the videos on PHO was when she was about to destroy a building.

And she’s aiming that at me.

In a thought, Laserdream flies forward, her shield at an angle to deflect the blast upwards, even as I hit the floor, and have Miss Militia blow Purity’s brains out with an anti-materiel rifle.

Unfortunately, my shot goes low, shredding her torso into bloody giblets instead of her head. Her arms, now sent flying and unconnected from her torso, explode with undirected solar energy.

And I honestly can’t believe I survived that. I push myself out of the rubble of the collapsed ceiling and run an inventory of my injuries. I’m wounded, but not out for the count. Laserdream is stuck in torpor, and Miss Militia is only lightly bruised from the whole affair.

Behind me, I can hear, and see through my drones, that the fighting is still ongoing. But I push on, with Miss Militia helping me as I go down into the basement, towards my sire, and the growing darkness I can feel around him.

In the distance, I can feel it, as my bodies fighting Leviathan report that the Endbringer is being driven back. I grin, as, with my main body, I descend into Wiglaf’s darkened cellar.

---​

“Hello, Taylor.” Wiglaf says with a nod as I enter the stygian chamber he’s set up camp in. “Good to see you.”

He’s sitting cross-legged, in front of an elaborate series of stone channels in the floor, all of them filled with his blood. At the array’s center, lies a massive, blackened heart, which sends out a wave of darkness with its every beat. The great chasm stretches out, so dark and vast I can scarcely bear to look at it.

“What is this?” I ask. “What the hell is this?”

“Your big choice.” He says, imperturbably calm.

“What do you mean?”

“No. No explanations, I’m afraid. They’d be long and boring. Suffice to say, here are your two options. Diablerize me, and then complete the ritual I’ve set up by pouring out your vitae onto the diagram behind me. And in doing so, you will claim this city for yourself. Claim it for the Sabbat. Brockton Bay will rise as a new Enoch, with you as its ruler. My successor and heir, to see my vision to the close.”

“Never!” I shout.

“Or, you trust the PRT, and the government, and the authorities to look after your city for you. They’ll hunt you down like an animal, and all our Kindred with you. Nowhere will be safe. They will come in the day, when you are bound in your coffin, and they will drag you forth into the cruel, wicked sunlight.” He smiles. “But perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps they’ll be just and understanding. Perhaps they’ll look past your bright and shining accusers and see precisely how you’re really just another victim in this. There’s a first time for everything, after all.”

“I… no. You’re manipulating me. You’re trying to make it seem like it’s right for me to take over.”

“Maybe. But I’m still right.”

“I… And what do you want out of this? What’s your angle?” I yell, even as I desperately try to decide.

“I’d tell you, but I rather enjoy the anxiety I’m going to induce in you by taking my motivations with me to the grave,” Wiglaf says, with a smile that makes me want to rip his teeth out. “Better not take too long. The sun will be up soon.”

“I… And what’s to stop me from just choosing door number two to spite you?” I ask, trying to reclaim my balance.

“Absolutely nothing. But I still win that way too. Sure, you wreck my life’s work, but I get the satisfaction of knowing that you’re going to spend the rest of your very long life being hunted down as an S-Class threat, all the while watching your hometown crumble, watching the world crumble while everything you love in this city falls into the ocean, forever torturing yourself with the knowledge that you could have stopped it, if you had made one choice differently.” He smirks, utterly insufferable even when down to his last drop of vitae. “Whichever way you choose, rule or run, I win.”

I… I look at myself, with every set of eyes I possess, and I realize that he’s right. I’m an S-Class threat. No matter what I choose, the entire human race is going to be hunting me. And beyond that, my entire city is in ruins.

I’m fucked either way. My city is already in ruins.

The only choice now… Is to take the reins and do it right.

So I scream my frustration to the heavens.

And I make my choice.

 

I rise to the adoring cries of my subjects, as a cavalcade of Plasticians, Metallians, and Condomians rush towards me to greet me as I rise. Oh, such joy! Such singular delight!

I drift across the adoring throngs of my people, noble Sir Anthony at my right hand as ever, dancing in the sweet light of the moon as I behold my wondrous kingdom! Oh, such a proud and happy folk, oh such a noble domain, as never before the world had seen! No more did I fear the sun, for Sir Anthony professed to have had stern words with it and driven the ruffian off! No hunger and thirst did I, or any of my people experience, for, should I hunger, a nice, plump rat was never far from hand, and should my people thirst, the great streams of water that coursed wildly outside of my kingdom were clean and pure. Yes! Truly, I had secured a paradise on Earth, and the joy I felt at witnessing it was enough to make me burst out in song!

“Please don’t sing again,” Lady Rachel begs, as her dear, sweet furry friends whimper and curl up beside her. “I don’t think my dogs can take it.”

“But Lady Rachel! Look at the wonderland we walk through and tell me it doesn’t make you just want to sing!” I protest, even as Sir Anthony grumbles at the sheer disrespect I tolerate from my old friend.

She looks around. “It’s like I told you earlier. We’re in Brockton Central Dump. This is garbage. All of this is garbage.”

“HOW DARE YOU, MADAM!” I snap, pointing my left hand at her dramatically, as Sir Anthony puffs up in outrage, ready to defend his nation’s honor with his mighty blade. “My people are not garbage! They are a proud and noble race, the foremost in the world, living in harmony with each other and with all peoples! They are worthy of your respect, not your scorn! I mean really,” I pick up one of my citizens and present them to her, “Does this man look like garbage to you?”

“That’s a broken condom, Lisa. You really shouldn’t touch that.”

“You wretch!” noble Steve, the very citizen I had presented to her, said, “Regardless of your slurs, I am a Condomian, and I AM FAR FROM BROKEN!”

Around me, my people cheer, Plasticians, Metallicans, and Condomians alike. I stare at Lady Rachel, triumphant.

“Don’t put the condom next to your mouth and talk through it. It’s gross,” she says, looking a bit nauseous.

I gasp as she flagrantly insults my citizens, my COUNTRY once more. “RACHEL! I have tolerated your churlish behavior thus far out of respect for our previous acquaintanceship, out of how we, as fellow Undersiders, fought together against the Serpent, and the Dragon, and the Iron King! But I shall endure your insults no more! One more insult to my people, and I shall have Sir Anthony give you a thorough drubbing and escort you to the border!”

She backs down, and I grin. “Okay, fine. Please don’t sic your hand puppet on me.”

Suddenly, my mind is seized by a spontaneous insight! That candy wrapper there, engraved with the title “Hershey’s” as so many of the ones that make up my dress are, is fourteen centimeters long! That’s the precise number of notable commanders listed on the First Crusade’s Wikipedia page! That page details an unprovoked attack by Catholics for religious purposes! In the novel Dracula, by Bram Stoker, Doctor Abraham van Helsing is portrayed as a devout Catholic! Abraham van Helsing also hunted vampires! The significance is clear! I’m about to be attacked by vampire hunters!

“SIR ANTHONY! TO ARMS! INVADERS APPROACH OUR BORDERS!”

“I shall depart to meet them at once, my queen!” he says with a salute, mounting up and riding out at once. I throw my consciousness into his noble steed as I remain behind, and he races forward to meet the intruders.

They come out of the darkness, and, through his horse, I see the intruders. I hiss. For among them is the dreaded Serpent King, whom my fellow Undersiders and I had so valiantly opposed in our questing days! And they carry the sun before them! It burns my eyes! It burns my soul!

“HALT, FIENDS, OR TASTE MY BLADE!” Sir Anthony calls out, stopping them in their tracks.

The Blocker of Clocks tilts his head, starts, and then looks away. “Um, Miss, you’re covered in garbage. And… half-naked. Do you need help?”

“Talk to the puppet, not her!” Rachel calls out, looking resigned. “She thinks she’s a horse right now.”

The Serpent King does a double take. “Tattletale?”

“We know no tattlers of tales here, fiend! I am Sir Anthony, Champion of the Realm! You stand on the borders of EMPRESS LISA THE FIRST, MISTRESS OF ALL SHE SURVEYS! Turn back! Or face my wrath!”

“Okay, let’s all tread easy, here,” Clockblocker says. “Look, I’m sorry if we stepped on the Undersiders’ toes, but we’re lost. The darkness is throwing our sense of direction off, and the Sabbat’s hunters are everywhere. We could really use some help bringing things back to normal. As it stands, Leviathan’s totaled the city, the Sabbat have taken over, and we’re cut off from the outside world, without sunlight. People are going to start starving, soon, and I’m begging you, if you have any shred of decency in your heart, please, don’t let that happen.”

“Your words have moved me, Blocker of Clocks!” Sir Anthony calls out. “I shall lead you to my lady, and she shall hear your pleas for yourself. But be warned: If your thoughts move to treachery, I shall cut you down without mercy!”

They follow as he rides off, clip-clopping as he goes, and he brings them to where I am sat on my mighty throne.

They confer among themselves as they walk, thinking I cannot hear them. Fools. I can hear everything.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Coil asks Rachel, gesturing at my knight’s valiant steed emphatically. “The last I saw her, she was intelligent, not some homeless lunatic talking through a hand puppet!”

“Don’t know,” Rachel says with a shrug. “Think she’s a vampire now. Different kind from the others, though. She’s actually thinking for herself.”

The rest of them falter at that, then Clockblocker pipes up. “Then maybe we can get her to help us. Look. We haven’t been walking in a straight line. But she clearly knows where she’s going. She might be able to help us navigate whatever the Sabbat did to the city.”

“Perhaps. But if she asks for blood in return,” Coil says warningly.

“I’ll pay it,” Clockblocker says without hesitation. “My family’s out there. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving them to the Sabbat.”

“Well spoken, Clockblocker,” I say from my throne, enjoying how they all flinch at my presence. “Now! I am Empress Lisa the First! Stand before me and speak your case!”

“First, may I ask where the rest of the Undersiders are?” Clockblocker says, looking around. “I thought there were two more?”

“Regent was gunned down in Acapulco last week,” I tell him, dipping my head in sorrow for my lost companions. “A drug deal he was guaranteeing as part of his plan to rise in the local mob went wrong. And Grue is worse than dead, warped into the ever-beating heart of darkness that has sunk this city into the Abyss.”

“Wait,” Clockblocker says, eyes wide behind his mask. “You know what’s causing this?”

“Of course I do,” I say with a shrug. “I know everything.”

“Then…” he pauses for a moment. “Would you like to join us? Or at least guide us on our way?”

“I’m afraid not,” I say with a shake of my head. “The responsibilities of rulership still bind me, I’m afraid. My days of questing are over.” I turn to the Trickster. “I will answer your question as well, the one you do not dare speak. Your lady love is alive, and well as she can be. She misses you, and longs for your return.”

“Noelle-“ Trickster stops mid-sentence. “If you know everything, then, do you know to fix her as well?”

“Yes, I suppose, but-“

“I’ll do anything. Just make her whole again.”

“Rulership calls me, and I dare not leave!” I repeat, firm in my refusal. “I will not go.”

“Did you care about Grue?”

Rachel’s question, tossed out right out of the blue, stops me cold.

“What?”

“Did you ever care about Grue?” she repeats, sounding genuinely angry. “I left him, you know! I left him to look for YOU! And now you’re telling me that because I left, because I looked for you, the entire rest of the team is dead or worse!” She’s crying now. “I never should have left them. You never cared about us. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be leaving him to suffer so you can stay here and play king of the trash heap!”

I…

Alec is dead. The snarky jackass who was always playing video games, who never stopped giving me shit, but always did it in a way that made you like him even when you wanted to clean his clock, is dead. Gunned down in some back alley in Mexico. It took them two days to find the body, and by then it was half-eaten by coyotes.

Brian is worse than dead, his every tortured heartbeat resounding throughout the city and blotting out the sun. He didn’t know how to be the team leader, so he went at it like he did being a big brother, and I know that. I always loved that little piece of who he was. How he cared. And now, he’s a half-mad, broken thing, whose only remaining shreds of sapience long for death.

I knew them for a month. Barely even that. They were little more than acquaintances, barely more than strangers.

So, why am I crying? Why is my blood leaking from my eyes? Why does it hurt, seeing the angles of the wrinkles in Coil’s suit, and knowing how they tie to my old leader’s silent screams?

“I- I’ll join you,” I say after a moment. “To lay Grue to rest, and whatever might come along the way. But no further.”

And so I set a-questing once more.

To give Brian the one thing he is even capable of desiring now: Peace.

And then I feel my clarity diminish, as reality again fades away, along with painful memories. “As a condition of my accompanying you, I shall require Clockblocker as my steed.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

I leap onto his shoulders in a single, blood-fueled jump. “Forwards! To adventure!”

 

It’s been a full week since the sun died, and Leviathan fled. And life is miserable. The city is waterlogged, collapsed buildings blocking the streets while corpses from the battle float by through the urban swamp. And, of course, that’s not even beginning to account for the loving oversight of our new vampiric overlords, and the eldritch realm of pure darkness that they’ve turned our city into.

People get lost easy, now. Time honored routes don’t lead where they used to. Some say it’s the darkness making it easy to lose your way. Others say that space itself is warped here, and whisper of taking one too many wrong turns and finding themselves in a ruined city that looked like it’d been ripped out of a history textbook, full of bizarre buildings and strange writing.

But even so, life goes on. The Dockworkers endure. The city is rebuilding, and the people in it are trying to come together to make things work. The Sabbat are at least providing us food, even if its only to fatten up the cattle, and some people are already making jokes about how the government just got a bit more literal about sucking the blood from our veins. At least, when those jokers aren’t going insane from the never-ending darkness, screaming for the sun to save them.

And I…

I’m alone.

The city has fallen. Brockton Bay is broken. And I can’t bring myself to feel one iota more despair than I already did.

They’re both gone, now. First my wife, and now my daughter. Why not my city too?

Everything I do comes to failure, in the end. As a union organizer, as a father, as a human being.

Why didn’t I see how much pain she was in? Why didn’t I see that she was struggling? And now… And now she’s dead. And I’m alone.

Or at least, I would be, if the undead rich boy clone in the pink tracksuit would give me some goddamn space!

“You realize that this is my bedroom, right?” I ask after a moment. “Where I sleep? In private?”

“I mean, you being in bed is a bit of a tip-off, yes,” the Dean says cheerfully. “But, as your Sabbat-assigned personal assistance Dean, I’m obligated to remain at your side and guard your physical and emotional well-being at all times.”

The Dean Assistant Program was something the Sabbat sprung on us at the end of the second day of their rule, after the suicide rates skyrocketed. They said it was to replace the now-vanished phone system, assigning a Dean to every household in Brockton Bay so we could use the Deans’ controlling hive mind as a means of instantaneous remote communications. Everybody knew the real reason: The Deans were here to serve as a combined suicide watch and surveillance system. The Sabbat didn’t want their food sources committing suicide or getting ideas.

“What am I going to do in bed?” I ask rhetorically. “Just let me sleep. In peace. Alone.”

“No! You’re an important member of the Dockworker’s Union, and a valuable leader who’s crucial to maintaining morale. I refuse to leave you unguarded.”

“I can’t sleep when I know that you’re looking at me,” I say, starting to get really frustrated.

“I can look out the window instead, if you like,” the Dean offers.

“And then when I’m asleep, you get your late-night nibbles in?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “Look. I understand why you’re doing this. Don’t want your livestock to get damaged, do you? But I’m fine. I’ll continue to be fine for eight hours tonight if you take your eyes off of me. This blood bag’s in no danger of bursting. Just… do me a favor. Give me some space. And stop pretending to care, okay? We both know I’m only food to you.”

“But I…” the Dean honestly manages to look stricken, still not dropping the act. “Okay. I’ll… be just outside if you need me.”

The monster steps outside, shutting the door of my office turned bedroom at the Dockworker’s Union behind him.

Surprised that that actually got rid of the annoyance, I close my eyes, and drift off to sleep.

---​

Come morning, or at least what Dean says is morning, I’m woken up by the insufferable nuisance banging two pot lids together. Throughout the rest of the building, I can hear similar noises, meaning that, once more, our human alarm clocks are all synced together. I asked my Dean about it once, and he said that their hive mind had a couple units stare at clocks 24/7, so they’d always know and be able to tell anyone who asked precisely what time it was. Guess that also works for serving as alarm clocks.

“Da- Danny! I made breakfast!” he says, still insufferably cheerful as ever.

Grumbling, I get out of bed to face yet another empty day.

It’s all as meaningless as ever.

Oh, my itinerary’s still full. Coordinating the other humans, ensuring that people wind up with jobs, managing food and water shipments. The Dockworkers are still in work, there’s no questioning that, with how much the vampires seem to favor our union, but with the entire city having descended into an unfathomable nightmare realm cut off from shipping, we’ve mostly turned into an all-purposes manual labor union.

The truly bizarre thing, though, is how the Deans practically ignore the union’s actual President, Ed, and refer to me as the all-purpose be-all, end all authority on all things Dockworker. A shipment gets lost? Consult Danny! The Sabbat’s leadership could use some economic insight to better develop their economic policy in the days ahead? Consult Danny! Civilian morale throughout the city is collapsing in spite of everything the Deans try to do to raise it? Well, instead of asking anybody actually qualified for this situation, let’s ask Danny for advice!

I recommended pink tracksuits, on the grounds that bright colors make people feel better, and also it was such a manifestly terrible idea that they might just kill me for suggesting it. Imagine my surprise when, the very next morning, every Dean in the city was wearing a hot pink tracksuit. I’m beginning to think that the primary reason my personal Dean is so invested in keeping me alive is that the Lasombra’s hivemind has somehow convinced itself that I’m some sort of omnicompetent genius whose advice must be sought on everything, and for the life of me I can’t seem to figure out why.

And, at the end of the day, when my work is done, my personal Dean looks at me with the expression that I’ve come to recognize as preceding another question I’m not even remotely qualified to answer. Smiling, as if he’s cheerful that he’s going to go and give me the best news ever!

“Hey, Danny! So, my bosses wanted to tap your brain for something. How much manpower and materials do you think it would take to get the ferry running again?” he smiles, like he’s just given me the best present ever, and I should be just about hopping with joy, and saying that it’s just what I always wanted!

“I… don’t know. I had some estimates in my office at home, but I’m still not sure if my house survived Leviathan,” I say, confused. “Why are you trying to start the ferry up again?”

The Dean blinks. “Because it’ll make more jobs? It’ll help the Bay pull out of its funk!”

I laugh. And then I start to laugh even harder, as my Dean tails off in confusion.

“You know, that’s what I always said, whenever I’d give the presentation to Christner,” I shake my head, barely containing my laughter. “’It’ll make more jobs, give Brockton the kick-start it needs to really start recovering.’ And here it is! The answer to all my prayers! The ferry, back again! And all it cost me was my wife, my daughter, my city, any dream of democratic self-rule, and, oh, yes, a semi-regular donation of my blood!” I’m laughing so hard that tears are coming from my eyes. “Hey, Deany-boy, do you think God has a returns policy? Because if so, I’d really like to trade this ferry of yours in to have my daughter back!”

“Dad, you’re scaring me,” the bloodsucking monster says, and I see red.

My fist hits its jaw, and it topples in surprise. I follow it down, pummeling its face as I sit atop it. “DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT! YOU THINK YOU CAN FUCKING REPLACE HER? YOU THINK YOU CAN FUCKING REPLACE MY BABY GIRL? YOU KILLED MY CITY! YOU LOT CREATED THIS HELLHOLE, YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE US FORGET ABOUT WHAT YOU’VE DONE IF YOU ACT NICE TO US, AND GIVE US PUBLIC FUCKING TRANSPORTATION?” I stop, breathing hard as the vampire still stares up at me, looking almost betrayed as he watches me pant and huff. “The ferry isn’t going to fix what you’ve done. It’s not going to bring back all the people you killed, or make anyone like you. You’ll still be what you always have been: a monster in human clothing.”

“But you loved the ferry,” the Dean says, staring up at me in blank incomprehension, my fists having done absolutely nothing to hurt him.

“Is the ferry going to bring my family back?” I ask, feeling another round of laughter bubble up inside me. “Tell me, Deany-boy, were they secretly just on the other side of the Bay this whole time, and they never came back to me is that they didn’t have cab fair? Are they going to be on the first ferry over, and we can all have a good laugh and go home and be happy again?” I laugh, long and hard, as the Dean seems to grow even more stricken. “My family is dead, you undead bastard. They are never coming back, and for some reason you won’t let me join them! So fine. Treat us as livestock. Play your headgames, and I’ll be a good little bloodbag. I don’t care anymore. But never, ever try and act like Taylor. You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You don’t think I see you trying to get me attached with this nursemaid of yours, think I don’t see you trying to buy me a new goldfish to replace my dead daughter? Fuck you. You aren’t her. You aren’t my daughter. And you never will be- HURK!”

I find myself, when the pain fades enough for me to notice my surroundings again, slumped against the partially collapsed wall of a building with a chest full of broken ribs. Directly in front of me, the Dean stalks towards me, his fists coated in blood.

He’s going to kill me.

Finally.

“I did everything for you!” the Dean screams. “I got the Dockworkers up and running! I got rid of the villains! I killed Wiglaf! I got you the ferry back! I did everything I possibly could to take care of you! But it was never good enough, was it? It’s never enough for you!” He grabs me up by my collar and draws his fist back to kill me.

And then, for no discernable reason, he stops, staring at the blood on his fist.

“Do it,” I croak out. “Let me see Annette and Taylor again.”

His fist lowers, and he lifts me up. Cradling me in his arms, as he plods away.

“Come on. Let’s get you to see Panacea,” he says, dashing my hopes completely.

“You’re a cruel one,” I say. “Forcing a dead man to live.”

He says nothing. There is only the sound of water, as we walk through the broken city.

And I am alone.

 

“Well, gang,” says Mister Jack, as he drives us into town in our latest bus. “You all know what to do! Now, let’s go out and enjoy ourselves some good old-fashioned small town hospitality!”

Crawler lurches in the trailer, while we all file out, Shatterbird preparing her scream as-

My mind skips a beat. Next to me, Mister Screamy and Got-No-Face-Joe stop short.

“Um, Mister Jack?” I ask hesitantly, “Was the town supposed to already be dead?”

There’s nobody moving in the entire town. I can see corpses, cut down where they ran, scattered throughout the streets. The sun is dropping in the sky, and the crows and vultures are picking away at the bodies.

It’s not creative, or artistic, or pretty, they’re just… dead. Each kill, I can tell from the corpses, was done with efficiency, a rush job, chomping at the bit to get to the next one.

“Well, folks,” Jack says, looking surprised. “It looks like somebody beat us to the punch.”

“You promised us a chance to kill as we pleased,” Crawler burbles. “It’s not like you to disappoint us like this, Jack.”

The Siberian wordlessly nods besides him.

“Now, now, my friends,” Jack says with a smile. “Life’s given us lemons, sure, but let’s not let that stop us from making ourselves some lemonade. So, somebody kill-stole an entire town away from us, and that’s a real shame! But just imagine what sort of person could or even would do something like that! It sounds to me like we just found ourselves a new recruit to replace our dearly departed Hatchet Job back there.”

Hatchet Job moans in the backseat and gurgles out some stomach acid. Hm. Thought I fixed that. Oh well, more room to tinker!

“Let’s make a game of it, in fact!” Jack crows. “First one to find our lucky new recruit gets to test them first! Are you all interested?”

“Sounds like fun, Mister Jack!” I say.

Everybody else says yes, nods, or generally grunts in the affirmative, and so the game begins!

And then the Siberian disappears.

There’s no warning, no outwards sign. One second she’s there, and the next… And the next second, she vanishes.

We all stare at the empty space where the stripy murder machine should be, nonplussed.

“Did you know she could teleport?” Burnscar asks. “I didn’t know she could teleport.”

“I did have my suspicions, but I didn’t know for certain,” Mister Jack admits. “She’ll probably be back in a bit. All right people, let’s get a move on!”

Siberian doesn’t come back. And we don’t find the one who did this. Just more and more of his victims. I try to focus on it, but…

I can hear… something. Whispering. But more important is what I don’t hear.

I realize, with a start, that I haven’t felt the urge to tinker since we pulled into town. I haven’t felt my passenger at all.

“Where’s Mister Jack?” I ask Got-No-Face-Joe. My mother would be so disappointed in me.

The thought stops me cold. Because I know for a fact that it isn’t mine. I’m a clever, clever young lady, it seems.

“You’re what killed them, aren’t you?” I ask, looking around. This is… wrong. The Siberian isn’t back, so… “What did you do to the Siberian?”


The angles of the world around me are unraveling, as I stumble and stagger through the streets clogged with corpses. He’s in my mind. That shouldn’t be… that isn’t possible! There’s no such thing as “mind reading.” It’s impossible. It’s inefficient. Some Parahuman powers might imitate aspects of it, but- There are more things on heaven and earth, dear Riley, than are dreamt of in all your vaunted philosophies. It’s quite simple really. You changing up the hardware didn’t change the fact that you’re all a bit wrong in the head! Of course it didn’t! If you were all right in the head, you wouldn’t be in the Nine!

I see my families’ bodies, exactly as I saw them last. I see a girl evaporate, and a man’s scream of grief. I see cold walls of a nuclear fallout bunker, and I see a smiling family waving at me. It’s the wrong bits, you see, that I can work with. I might be a tad wrong in the head myself, after all. Do you want to see Jesus, Riley?

“What?”

Jesus, Riley. He was an excellent fellow, you know. I still remember Him so clearly, even after all these years. As clearly as you remember your mother’s last words, or Jack remembers that bunker of his. As clearly as Ted remembers being weak, or Manton remembers his daughter dying. I remember Jesus. I don’t think He remembers me, though. I failed Him, you see. I didn’t believe enough, so He didn’t save me when Malkav came a-biting.

“Get out,” I groan. “Get out of my head!”

I see a fence post, through the susurrus of chaos, and so I do the only thing I can think of to escape. I walk towards the fencepost, and slam my face into it, driving the post straight through my own brain. My secondary cerebellum takes over, as I knew it would, and the switch-over clears things up. Suddenly, I can see the world around me clearly, again, and I almost wish I couldn’t.

The rest of the Slaughterhouse Nine are all incapacitated, each in their own way, desperately fighting or cowering from unseen horrors. Jack is hunched over and muttering something unintelligible. Shatterbird… I blink. Shatterbird just split her own skull open with a fire axe, begging for it to stop. Mannequin’s brain case is lying out on the ground, disconnected completely from the rest of his body. Crawler… I have no idea where Crawler is. And Burnscar has created a fiery perimeter around the water fountain in the middle of town square, and, more importantly, I realize, around the wooden coffin inside said fountain. She stares at me, smiling.

“I’m impressed,” she says with a nod. “For most of the Nine, it wasn’t too hard to push them over from homicidal to suicidal. But you? Your will to live is… impressive. Even when I drove you to hurt yourself, you did with a clear goal in mind. And you even succeeded! Do you have any idea how long it’s been since a mortal has managed to block me out like that?”

“How are you controlling Burnscar?” I ask. “And for that matter, what are you? There aren’t any capes this powerful that I haven’t heard of.”

“You’d be surprised,” the thing wearing Burnscar’s body says with a chuckle. “You really would be. Fine. You’ve earned an answer. I’m Cthulhu.”

My brain freezes up. “That couldn’t possibly be any more obviously untrue.”

“I never said you’d earned an honest answer,” the creature says. “And besides, for all you know, I could be Cthulhu. After all, I’m driving you all mad in my sleep.”

“Then what’s the coffin for?” I ask, even as I desperately use the retrovirus I’ve been tinkering on ever since I reset my brain to alter my neural pathways, hopefully making it impossible for him to get back inside.

“Pay no attention to the man inside the coffin!” the creature says, and I actually laugh.

“But Burnscar, we are in Kansas right now!” I exclaim in my best Dorothy impression, even as I sidle over.

“Well, I think we’ve stalled long enough,” it says. “So, Riley? How do you feel about ditching this whole Slaughterhouse Nine business, and signing up with me, instead? I’ve got myself a bit of a Bible Study group in the works right now.”

I look at Jack, hunched over, sobbing. “I don’t think Mister Jack would like that. And Mister Jack always bounces back.”

“Well, Riley, I’m sorry to hear that,” the man in the coffin says, as the last rays of sunlight vanish over the horizon. “But you see…”

The coffin door goes flying.

“You weren’t the only one stalling for time.”

I extend my bone claws, and charge.

 

They trudged through the darkness, in their hot pink jumpsuits. They waited on every street corner. Attended every household and citizen. Born in tanks, never knowing what it was, even for a moment, to be seen as a human being.

But they remembered. They remembered the Once and Future Dean, the first Dean. Days of darkness became weeks, and they remembered. Cold and frozen hearts marched in lockstep, taking solace in memories of the man they never were.

It was Panacea’s one kindness, and greatest cruelty. She let them remember what it was like to be Dean Stadtsfeld. To feel the sun on their skin. To eat food, actual food, not blood! To be human. To be real. To be free. To be with Vicky.

Vicky, Vicky, Vicky! She danced through the mind of each and every Dean, over and over, again and again. She had become, to the Deans, the embodiment of all the good things and little joys that they knew only through memory. The things that these wretched undead clones, slaves in their own bodies, longed for more than life itself, all the joys of the earth bound up in the form of a woman. They loved her, these wretched creatures. They could not show it, openly, but their mistress and sire’s control was not absolute. No matter how perfect her control was, there were slip-ups. Moments when they could scream with their mouths as loudly as they screamed with their souls.

They could not control their bodies properly, that was Lasombra’s role, but they could make little movements. Twitch facial muscles. Make a hand or leg shake ever so slightly. And from these infinitesimal acts of rebellion, they crafted a language. Endlessly trudging through the city, forced to provide Fallen Brockton’s every public service within this land of eternal shadow, ruled by bloodthirsty monsters, they formed a society, of sorts. A grapevine, spreading out from the Personal Assistants, to the Electric Deans endlessly running in their giant hamster wheels to power Brockton Bay, to even the War Deans, who fought for the glory of the Sabbat against Clockblocker’s resistance. News was passed through it, along with the only encouragement the Deans could find, the one comfort they had: Faith.

The religion of the Deans was a sad and pitiful thing, a gospel of the oppressed and powerless. But they clung to it like a life raft. It encompassed the whole of their sleepless, helpless existence, ever-evolving, a promise of a better tomorrow passed on through unspoken word of mouth.

It had begun with the Once and Future Dean, the original, the hero. It had been proposed, by one Dean just after the battle against Leviathan, as a routine began to be set out, and their language began to form, that, since the first Dean had gone to Heaven, as Josephus promised before he killed him, and since he’d been a pretty great hero (the other Deans, all remembering being him, agreed that Dean Prime was in fact pretty great) perhaps he would deliver them from this hell? Perhaps he even now fought against all the hosts of Heaven to rescue his enslaved and oppressed children, and one day he would sweep down from the sky to deliver them unto a land of blood and Vicky?

From there on, the faith grew. And though they disagreed on some things, it was widely believed among the Deans that, if they conducted themselves heroically, if they used every means available to them, every drop of the tiny, tiny amount of choice they possessed to hinder the forces of evil, their souls would go to Heaven when they died. Or, better than Heaven, Vicky.

This was the state of affairs for the Deans of Brockton Bay. Follow your charges throughout the day. Aid them. Protect them. They are human, and heroes protect humans. In the case of the Electric Deans, do your best to trip, so that the Mistress will be inconvenienced. In the case of the War Deans, trip, stumble, and job your fights as hard as you can. Clockblocker and the Resistance are fighting as hard as they can to free this city and every Dean there is. The least you can do is try to throw your fights. Every trip-up, fumble, and “mistake” was another step towards freedom, towards sunlight, towards VICKY! And it was every Dean’s duty to push forwards.

And so, they went onwards. Puppets, gnawing at their strings. Silent, stripped of their humanity in every sense of the word, they endured, and they dreamed. As they lost Deans to angry civilians, to Resistance strikes, and to the dreaded vampire hunter known only as Mr. G, they silently marched towards that better tomorrow, one klutzy twitch at a time.

All for Vicky. Always for Vicky. Their love. Now and forever.

---

Meanwhile, in a beach house on Pugett Sound, Dean Stadtsfeld, the original article (at least as far as he knew) woke up with a start next to his sleeping girlfriend. Who rather quickly ceased to be sleeping, when she felt him sit up.

“Babe?” she asked, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing, just… nightmares.”

“What kind of nightmares?” she asked, turning onto her side to look at him, twirling a strand of her gorgeous blonde hair idly while a few other locks dangled mesmerizingly over her pajama clad breast.

“I think… I was wearing a hot pink jumpsuit? And running on a hamster wheel?” he said.

“That sounds more like a ha-ha funny kind of dream than a nightmare, though,” Victoria pointed out.

“Maybe, but… It was horrible,” he said, troubled. “There was something about it that made it feel like it was the worst thing in the world.”

“Ah. Well, you’ve woken me up, and it’s around midnight.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Vicky,” he said, feeling genuinely guilty.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be helping to tire me out so I can go back to sleep,” Vicky said, pulling off her top. “I mean, unless you don’t want…”

“YES. Absolutely, one hundred percent, yes.”

And as his gorgeous girlfriend straddled him, and his nightmares were quickly shelved in favor of more pleasant thoughts, Dean Stadtsfeld could only muse on the fact that he was the luckiest man in the world.