“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alfred, in his guise as Seraph, said.

  The director simply looked at him like an idiot, which, in Taylor’s opinion, isn’t entirely unwarranted. She was still reeling at the possibility that Leviathan might be looking for her. Something that she never even considered.

  Did he know about this? Did Lisa?

  Sneaking a look at the girl beside her, the blonde gave an infinitesimal shake of the head to indicate her ignorance of the matter. Taylor also remembers her gasping in surprise, so that checks out.

  “Don’t treat us like we’re idiots, Seraph,” the woman warned. “The swarm of monsters out at sea was made up of arthropods. Not a single one of them had a spine, which means –”

  “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Alfred blurted out. “Those were some brave critters!”

  “–which means,” Director Piggot kept on speaking, “that they are more similar to insects than not. We know of only one Parahuman who can control insects within a hundred-mile radius, and she’s sitting right here.”

  “That proves nothing,” he argued.

  “It doesn’t need to!” she shot back. “If there’s even a chance that Leviathan would just ignore you and barrel straight for the city, it would be irresponsible to not even talk about it. This isn’t a game where you make the rules however you want, Seraph!”

  “No shit!” Taylor could see Alfred becoming more and more agitated. “I just don’t see why you’re bringing someone else into this when I’m perfectly willing to be your bait. That’s better PR for you, isn’t it? You get rid of an Endbringer, or you get rid of a cape you can’t control. Either way, you win!”

  “How about we all calm –” Legend tried to interpose.

  “You stay out of this, you two-faced hypocrite!”

  Cries of outrage exploded in the meeting room, with many of the heroes jumping to their feet, yelling invectives at the offender, and some even manifesting their powers. To Taylor’s growing horror, though, rather than backing down, Alfred stood up and started glowing. The tension around his shoulders, the set of his jaws, and the clenching of his fists indicate his willingness to escalate to violence.

  “Let me make this abundantly clear,” he spoke in the lowest, most menacing voice she had ever heard from him. This was a side to Alfred she had never seen. “If any of you come near Imago, I will rip out your throat and piss on your corpse. You think I care about your precious Rules or your fragile authority? You think your pathetic collection of powered enforcers masquerading in an ideal from a bygone era would give me pause?” At this point, his voice has taken on a savage, almost maddened quality.

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  “You think your sparkly Blaster can stop me?” He continued, shoulders hunched and snarling. “Or your precious Trump and Flying Brick? I will eviscerate every single cape in this room, then go from city to city, state to state, and country to country, doing the same thing until you get the message that She. Is. Off. Limits!”

  By the end of his rant, the once kind, if quirky, boy she had known over the last few days was gone – and was replaced by a raving lunatic. Lisa had been hinting that there was more to Alfred’s professed loyalty to Taylor, but she didn’t appreciate just what that meant until this moment.

  Suddenly, a hand shot out to grab hers, forcing Taylor out of her frozen state. She didn’t even notice the thick feeling of dread that had flooded the briefing room like molasses.

  It wasn’t like the cloying, eldritch fear she felt that night on the rooftop. This was deeper, more primal. Like being face-to-face with a crocodile or some other man-eating predator. It’s the kind of fear that freezes the limbs and discombobulates the mind.

  “You need to stop him!” It was Lisa, and all the blood seemed to have drained from her face. Even her hand was ice cold. “Stop him, Taylor. Do it now!” Fear made her words faint, shaky, and nearly unintelligible, but the message was clear. Witnessing the blonde be reduced to such a pitiful state spurred Taylor on to finally intervene.

  “Seraph!” Springing to her feet, the bug mistress fought through the fear and walked around the table to reach her raging ally. “That’s enough!” she shouted, grabbing his shoulder to catch his attention.

  When he turned, Taylor saw an inferno behind his brown eyes through the translucent visor, causing her gut to flip in terror. Even then, she met his gaze. The eye contact visibly diminished the flames at a rapid rate, and, not seeing any other choice, she held his face with both hands. His skin felt hot through the silk of her gloves.

  “They won’t touch me,” she reassured him in a soothing voice, firmly ignoring the audience watching on as she tried to calm the powerful Trump. “I’m safe, okay? The director wasn’t threatening me. Nobody is threatening me. I’m safe.”

  “But they –”

  “– won’t do anything to hurt me,” she said firmly, overriding his objection. “They know better than that. Seraph, you’re scaring them. You’re scaring the others, scaring Tattletale… you’re scaring me,” she finished in a small voice.

  That did it. Like a spell, her words broke through his remaining anger, fully snuffing out the fire in his gaze. Shock, shame, and guilt warred on his face. With her being so close, Taylor saw the remorse shining through.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t – I never wanted to frighten you. Never you.”

  Despite herself, the sheer sincerity in his voice caused her chest to tighten and her heart to flutter. Taylor had to actively remind herself of their current location and situation just to suppress the flush creeping up her face.

  “I’m not the only one you owe an apology to,” she told him firmly. For a moment, he seemed confused, but quickly understood what she meant –

  “I’m sorry for scaring you guys,” he said to the Undersiders… and no one else.

  – or maybe he didn’t.

  Clearing her throat caught his attention. When he raised a questioning eyebrow at her, she jerked her head towards the rest of the table, where heroes and PRT agents sat rigidly still, wide-eyed and trembling.

  “Oh,” he said once he finally got what she was trying to say. “I, uh, I’m sorry, everyone, for my behavior. That was unbecoming of me. My need to protect – that is to say, I sometimes lose my temper. I really am sorry.”

  To Alfred’s credit, he really did sound contrite in his apology. Unfortunately, no one had the chance to pardon or condemn him.

  “Director!” someone screamed before all hell broke loose.

  Already dreading what she would find, Taylor turned to the rotund woman’s location and saw her slumped on her chair. She had fallen unconscious, with one hand clutching her chest, and her face turning purple. Naturally, a certain bumbling idiot decided to make the already tragic affair even worse…

  “I can fix that!”

  “Noooo!” several voices yelled, but it was too late.

  One second, a bright, white light blinded everyone, and the next, the woman groaned awake.

  “See? She’s fine!”

  “... God dammit, Seraph.”