I don’t know why, but I got the sudden urge to smack Lisa in the head. The blonde was looking at me with a mix of pity and disbelief. It’s the kind of look you’d usually reserve for people with genetic defects.

  Whatever she’s thinking, I’d bet it was rude.

  “This whole time, everything you’ve done, you’ve just been winging it, haven’t you?”

  Ouch! Right in the nards!

  The pure bafflement in her tone, combined with the perplexity coming through those wide, bottle-green eyes, somehow multiplied the psychic damage caused by her question. It’s as if the boundless stupidity of my actions, when taken in their entirety, escaped her ability to process.

  So much so that she reverted to child-like confusion.

  How was I supposed to answer that without coming across as a total idiot? Denying the truth would make it seem as if the series of disastrous confrontations I’ve been involved in were all planned. Admitting that I didn’t know what I was doing would effectively give her power over me.

  And the last thing you want to do with a Thinker is give them leverage.

  Thankfully, I was saved from having to choose by Taylor waking up, which was good. Not so good, she woke up screaming her head off and thrashing on the mattress. Lisa was instantly at her side, clearing away anything that could be knocked over or thrown. Contrary to my expectations, she didn’t try to touch Taylor at all.

  I stood, transfixed, as the older girl spoke in a soothing, almost hypnotic tone while kneeling beside the mattress.

  “It’s okay, Taylor. You’re free. You’re safe.”

  She kept repeating those words over and over, almost like a mantra, and it was working. After a minute, the piercing shrieks died down, and we were left with a panting teen in Lisa’s arms. Sobs wracked her thin frame as she held onto the blonde for dear life. Unintelligible sounds poured from her lips, but they didn’t need to make sense.

  I could hear the deep, desperate terror in every mumbled and slurred syllable. Every hiccuping breath carried the pain she bore since the death of her mother. Each keening whimper was a small but unmistakable shred of anguish she’d been made to endure.

  And it was in this moment that the enormity of my failure finally crashed down on my shoulders.

  Some would-be ally I turned out to be. Here was the girl I swore to save. To protect. Heaving in tortured distress from the exact kind of harrowing experience I was supposed to prevent. Victimized by the same people I vowed to keep at bay.

  And in the end, how much have I improved her life? Not at all.

  I couldn’t even provide simple comfort since I didn’t really know how. Better to leave that to Lisa, whom I knew could give Taylor what she needs.

  Guilt and shame swirled in my gut with such intensity that I could only clench my fists to keep myself from throwing up. I’d seen the consequences of my blunder before. The molten streets, the broken bodies, and the panicked screams. None of them made me want to tear out my own eyes as watching the pitiable tableau playing out before me.

  How could I possibly make this right?

  Damn my intentions and damn my plans! None of them mattered in the face of the young girl suffering from my incompetence. Not even with all my power could I erase what she was forced to experience.

  There was a running joke in the fanfic community that “To be Taylor is to Suffer” or some variation of it. I’d always found it distasteful, and coming here, I was so sure that it wouldn’t happen on my watch. Was she always fated to be dealt a shit hand? Or was there something I could have done differently that would have prevented all of this from happening in the first place?

  No answer was forthcoming from the universe. So I just stood there, like a useless statue, already dreading the coming confrontation.

  To earn her forgiveness, I would do anything. The rest of the world be damned.

  It was strange how long-forgotten details surface at times of great need. Like ways to deal with night terrors she’d read in a magazine while waiting for the bus to arrive. Regardless of the timing, Lisa was grateful for the knowledge, as it helped her calm one of the most dangerous capes in existence.

  While holding on to the crying girl, her mind couldn’t help but wander in a few directions. For one, why wasn’t the building drowning in bugs? For another, why wasn’t Seraph doing anything to help?

  Risking a quick glance toward the boy, she saw a nearly picture-perfect depiction of someone grappling with guilt.

  Only to be expected, she supposed. Much of what Taylor went through over the past few days could be directly tied to him. Considering how much concern he expressed for the insect controller’s well-being, Lisa supposed that he was blaming himself quite a bit. This did leave her in a bit of a conundrum.

  She very well couldn’t get answers now. Taylor was currently the bigger priority.

  More specifically, she needed to make sure that the Master didn’t lose her shit and summon Cthulu or something. A task that thankfully wasn’t too difficult, given the way she was clinging to Lisa.

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  On some level, the Thinker wanted to be detached from the whole situation. She was beyond tired, functioning on no sleep, and having just been threatened with imprisonment or death just a few hours prior. But she knew she couldn’t just walk away.

  Not now.

  Too much was riding on her staying, not least of which was the room’s other occupant being rather useless. Unfortunately, even without the help of her power, it was obvious that she would have to ride this out.

  Eventually, Taylor did manage to recover enough to loosen her grip. Lisa was thankful for this since her body wasn’t built for prolonged blood flow deprivation. A few moments more, and the much calmer girl sat up to face the room.

  Lisa gave her the most comforting smile she could muster, despite the bruise she could feel forming around her torso. Taylor was a mess of tangled hair, swollen eyes, and pallid skin. Lisa gave her time to gather herself, though. When she noticed the girl looking over her shoulder, the blonde followed her gaze to land on Seraph.

  Well, this is gonna be awkward.

  “It’s okay, Taylor,” Lisa assured. “He’s a friend.”

  “One of the Undersiders?” she asked, voice raspy.

  “Not exact–” she started, but didn’t get to finish.

  “I recently worked with them,” Seraph cut in, almost hesitantly. “Had to, for – for a big operation.”

  “Right. Okay. So, where am I? What do I call you?” Taylor was now blearily scanning the room.

  The boy paused a beat before saying, “This is where I’m staying for the moment. As for what you can call me… my name’s Alfred.”

  It took every ounce of self-control for Lisa to stop herself from rounding on him then. She managed it. Barely. She did give him an unfathomably venomous glare, though.

  Seriously? Just like that?

  “Also…”

  Oh no.

  “I – uh, I’m also…”

  This isn’t happening. Lisa was witnessing a trainwreck in slow motion. She tried signalling for him to stop with just her eyes, but he either didn’t see or chose to ignore her.

  “I’m Seraph.”

  Fuck.

  “This is a disaster,” Emily Pigot declared to the room of heroes and PRT personnel in the building’s main briefing room. “An unmitigated, categorical, absolute disaster.”

  Nobody contradicted her. Nobody dared.

  It was the afternoon following the debacle that occurred just a few miles from Brockton Bay’s shores. She had just come from a remote meeting with directors from other PRT branches, including the Chief-Director herself. The latter of which had become more common than she’d liked, as of late.

  “Everybody wants answers about what’s going on in our little corner of hell, and I do mean everybody. I’m expected to submit a report that will be read by the President, as well as Canada’s Prime Minister. On top of that, Europe has been making inquiries, and other countries are expected to follow.”

  She let that statement hang in the air for a bit. Making sure that nobody around the table missed a word.

  “Unfortunately, as things stand, it would be a very short report, seeing as we have no actionable information. We don’t know where Seraph is, what he’s up to, what he was doing out in the middle of the ocean, and what on God’s green Earth he has to do with the horror show that happened within spitting distance of my city.”

  Emily Piggot didn’t scream. Oh, she dearly wanted to. But, she held herself back. She did outline their issues with as much displeasure as she could professionally get away with, however. And she was displeased.

  “So, for all our sakes, give me something we can use. Anything.”

  Armsmaster cleared his throat.

  “While it’s too early to say with any certainty, preliminary investigations have found connections between Coil and the site of the offshore incident. This connection could also explain Seraph’s actions, given everything we currently know of the events, thus far. There is a possibility that Seraph went to rescue someone abducted by Coil, who then triggered, as a result of their captivity.”

  The silence that followed was almost thunderous in implication. While they’ve managed to keep the details under wraps, everyone in the room knew who the snake-themed villain was. Thomas Calvert. Trusted PRT consultant and Ellisburg survivor.

  “Coil,” Emily echoed. “You’re saying that Coil caused this incident?”

  “Potentially,” Armsmaster answered. “And only indirectly, if this is the case.”

  Emily had to pause and take a deep breath here. Whether directly or indirectly, if Calvert was indeed responsible for giant monsters appearing in her backyard, it’s still going to be her head on the chopping block. The political fallout after such a major breach of their security was already poised to ruin the local PRT branch. If it’s confirmed that he’s the cause of a conflict that necessitated an international response, it’s over.

  From the downcast expressions of everyone in attendance, they knew it, too.

  “How likely is this to be the case?” she asked, almost dreading the answer.

  To his credit, Armsmaster had enough social awareness to not respond right away. The brief respite didn’t change the content of his reply, though.

  “Fairly high, director.”

  Like the breaking of a dam, a flood of curses swept through the room, and Emily didn’t have the energy to silence them. She was too preoccupied with digesting the new information. They’ve been on the back foot far too much lately. They needed a win, and fast.

  “That’s enough,” she barked, quieting the room fairly quickly. “It happened. It’s done. There’s no point in griping about it now. What I need are solutions. Have there been any sightings of Seraph?”

  “None, director,” Miss Militia said. “Not since he escaped into the water with what we can now presume to be a newly-triggered parahuman.”

  “And we’re sure he’s coming back here?” Emily asked.

  This time, it was someone attending via satellite link who answered.

  “We’re not ruling out other destinations, director. However, our models suggest a high probability that he will or has already returned to Brockton Bay.”

  “Thank you, Dragon.”

  “Ma’am.”

  This could go either way for them. Seraph being in the city means a chance of getting some answers. However, he has already proven to be a dangerous wildcard that will need careful handling. A powerful cape with unclear allegiances, goals, and motivations is always a sensitive proposition.

  Adding to the volatile circumstances is the possible presence of a cape who could summon and control creatures the size of Endbringers. Just the thought of that made Emily feel sick. Speaking of which, she turned to the head of their science department.

  “Have there been any results from the samples you got?”

  “Surprisingly, nothing out of the ordinary.” The man could almost be described as the quintessential nerd. Balding, thick glasses, and a reedy voice. “DNA corresponds to various species of marine life. The only real discrepancy is the state they were delivered in. Nothing exotic was added, so we can rule out Wet Tinker involvement.”

  That was a relief, though it was also confounding.

  “Recorded footage showed chimeric combinations of different species,” Emily pointed out.

  “True,” he confirmed, “but the samples don’t provide clarity with that discrepancy. Many of the samples contained multiple DNAs, but they were still separate from each other and easy to identify. As far as the evidence is concerned, they came from singular subjects, not a mix of them.”

  “Director, if I may?”

  “Proceed, Dragon.”

  “Many of the species involved in the incident shared physiological similarities, from the start. Namely, they were all invertebrates. There is a possibility that, DNA notwithstanding, the physical changes we saw were merely surface details.”

  That caught Emily’s attention, for some reason. When someone else tried to speak, she held out a hand for silence, and they promptly complied.

  “Invertebrates, you said, Dragon?”

  “Yes, director.”

  “As in, those things that didn’t have backbones?”

  “Indeed, director.”

  “Like, say, insects?”

  …

  …

  …

  “Exactly like insects, ma’am.”

  From the way the heroes froze, they might have been mistaken for statues. Emily was faring no better.

  “When was the last recorded instance of our 911 caller?” she breathed.

  “Three days ago,” a PRT agent said after checking their computer.

  “And she’s never missed a day to report crimes since she started, right?”

  “No ma’am, not a day.”

  “Shit,” Assault cursed, understanding exactly what’s going on.

  “Shit,” Velocity echoed him.

  “Shit,” Miss Militia joined in, though, sounding more worn down.

  And, even knowing that it went against her rank and position as a government official…

  “Shit,” Emily agreed.