Remove ads

Brockton's Celestial Forge (Worm/Jumpchain)

Reader mode
Onyxreaper said:
You know what seeing that Joe can order stuff from other Dimensions
What are the chances we see a accurate representation of a Jurassic Park created by the Duplicates
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
As if Joe would be so careless as to make the replica of such a theme park accurate to the source material, the jeeps would be much more durable and somehow tethered to the tracks to prevent a rogue T-Rex from pushing it into an enclosure, and the fencing would be far more reliable than to be taken out by a mere hurricane, no matter its category. The place would be entirely safe.
 
Remove ads
24-hour Delay Announcement
  • Informational
    • My apologies for the delay, but I'm going to have to push the release of the next chapter by 24 hours. I've been swamped recently and haven't had as much time to write as I would have liked. With the work on the side story I've already had to cut down the scope of the next chapter, but even for a shorter chapter I'm going to need some more time to everything wrapped up.
     
  • Informational
    • I also thought that this was an off week. Pleasantly surprised to find out that it's not.
    That makes it seem six days early rather than a day late.
     
    Cosmic said:
    Commissioned Chibi Tetra Fan Art.
    The splendid artist is IchigoPrincess.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    She looks like a tomatoe.
     
    The green is a certain glove giving a head pat as well as someone suggesting ( Bad Advice ) that it would look "Fabulous!"
     
    Remove ads
    113.3 Interlude Armstrong New
  • Threadmarks
    • 113.3 Interlude Armstrong

    Director Armstrong sank into the chair of his current office, the lights dimmed to mark the effective end of the work day, as much as things could 'end' under the circumstances. He was in one of the original offices of the training camp, rather than the expanded facilities that had been nearly magically assembled earlier that day. There was a rather stark difference in quality between the original and added buildings. The GECK hadn't created the kind of ridiculous opulence that Apeiron was known for, but there was a level of quality and a kind of quiet comfort to its creations that was completely absent from anything that would be associated with the military.

    Despite the quality of the facilities, or perhaps because of it, most of the hostages seemed to be in a kind of daze. That was understandable, with them having suddenly shifted from a series of horrible experiences to something that bordered on a resort. Or exceeded it, depending on the quality of vacation you were accustomed to.

    Of course, not all the hostages were free to indulge in the new facilities. Armstrong was still arranging surgeries for the people who had refused tinker tech treatment. Thankfully the number was manageable, and the procedure was effectively outpatient. The bombs implanted in the hostages' heads were actually in their necks, outside their skulls. Still delicate work, but without the threat of detonation the medical team he had arranged had been able to begin work.

    The first surgeries had already been completed, with the rest scheduled for the following day. The devices that had been extracted were, to his knowledge, the only intact example of Bakuda's technology in PRT custody. Even defused, even though they were apparently not the best examples of the tinkers work, they were still tinkertech. The only thing stopping the department from shipping them off to Dragon was the security around the hostage's recovery.

    That, and the potential complication of dealing with Dragon, given the connection to Apeiron. That was an entirely different issue, and one Armstrong was secretly grateful to not be responsible for. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but he doubted that Director Piggot appreciated another level of complexity to the situation in her city.

    As it stood, the central offices and medical clinic were the only building solely occupied by Armstrong and his staff. He wasn't working out of the original structures for lack of options. There had been an entire administrative building provided along with the rest of the excessive number of facilities and amenities. Frankly, it was a step above the Boston PRT headquarters, at least in terms of surface level functionality. It was clear the integrated technology had been restrained to a more conventional level, probably due to the GECK being a 'domestic model'.

    It would have been easy to set up in the new space, take advantage of all the facilities and comforts that had been so casually provided, but the department had been skating close enough to what was permitted under regulations. Technically he could leverage the Brockton Bay state of emergency to his own ends, seeing as he was dealing with the ABB's hostage situation, but that was more than a bit of a stretch. Additionally, the expanded powers permitted under emergency conditions had already been thoroughly exploited by Director Piggot. He would rather not have to justify his own actions when she was inevitably called to task.

    Plus, it was a way to avoid being completely overwhelmed. The repurposed military facilities felt more grounded than the sparkling and ergonomically optimized workspaces that had been created by the GECK, and right now he needed as much grounding as he could get. His time interacting with Apeiron and the members of his team had been comparatively brief, but it had been beyond overwhelming, and not just because of the technological insanity that had been so casually handed out.

    That is, if it even counted as 'technological'. He idly flipped open the lighter, the motion already feeling completely natural, like he'd been doing it his entire life. A warm red flame sprang to life, or sprang up from the body of the lighter. Even when the device was closed, he knew the flame was still there. He could feel the contained energy through the engraved metal of the lighter. It wasn't being ignited when the device was opened, only released.

    Released to work its wonders. He watched the flame, feeling the glow flickering in his eyes. A glow that was so much more than just firelight. Apeiron had described it as the Flames of Hearth and Home. It was a rather poetic way of putting things, but undeniably accurate. Through the fire, he could see, really more than see, everyone under his command. Everyone he was responsible for. That warmth bound everything together, adding a tangible connection to something that was already abstractly linked together.

    A single glance at the flame was better than any briefing and more comprehensive than any report. It wasn't an overwhelming flow of information, it was an understanding of the situation, the ebb and flow as the different parts of the system he was accountable for shifted dynamically. Aspects of his command that he had only roughly understood were now crystal clear. He could feel tensions and conflicts that were brewing, inefficiencies that had built up or set in, areas that were overlooked and others that were operating at cross purposes.

    It was incredible. It was also frightening. Just the initial power as it had been displayed to him, the ability to monitor the people under his command and receive warning in the case of threats, that already represented a significant thinker power. This, well he didn't know how something like this should be categorized, mostly because he didn't know how far it could be pushed. What were the limits of the item that had been created by a cape who named himself after the concept of a lack of limits?

    Fortunately, despite how comprehensive the effect seemed to be, there were some restrictions. Boundaries, held out of respect and deference. He had a sense of where conflicts and issues existed, but not an intrusive dive into what aspects of the employee's personal lives might be driving them. The information he was receiving was nothing more than what an attentive and active manager would be able to learn. What could be anticipated and understood if he actually had the time and ability to check in on everyone he was responsible for. The power was tremendous, but fundamentally it was directed towards positive purposes. Support, respect, development, protection, all things that you would expect from a thematic connection to the flames of the hearth.

    Unlike the Fires of Tyranny. That casual reference thrown out by Apeiron was still weighing on him, though probably more than it should have. The idea that Apeiron might be capable of terrible things, of creating an effect that would be overwhelming and oppressive by its very nature, that wasn't surprising. Not really, not with everything else the man had been able to accomplish, but there was a difference between knowing something was true in theory, and holding the evidence of it in your hand. As amazing as the lighter was, he was constantly aware that every positive aspect of those flames could have just as easily been turned towards a horrible purpose.

    Could have been, but wasn't. That was the thing about working with Apeiron. The only thing holding back Apeiron was Apeiron. Normally against a powerful cape, the PRT would have secured some level of leverage. That sounded sinister, but in the majority of cases it was considerably mundane. Something as simple as helping with public relations and branding could build a relationship with an independent cape. In some cases things were considerably more extreme, all the way up to threats of reprisal and effective standoffs. That was effectively the template for dealing with the Elite and some of the less egregious villain groups. Beyond that, the only lever of control would be the threat of open violence. The might of the Protectorate, including the forces that could be called upon in support, against the strength of the parahuman or faction in question.

    That was a method of last resort, a point where the 'relationship' and 'leverage' from the PRT was effectively open conflict, but in enough cases that was what things defaulted to. Even if everything else had broken down, the strength of the Protectorate was still respected.

    Except in the case of the Celestial Forge it was seriously debatable whether a combined S-class response from the entire Protectorate, leveraging every advantageous and exotic power at their disposal, would be able to accomplish anything against Apeiron's team. In an ideal world it wouldn't come to that, the overtures that Armstrong was able to achieve could be built upon to the point where there was no chance of things devolving into open conflict. That was the PRT's goal in all such situations, but he couldn't remember any occasion where their prospects were so dire should relations break down. Typically, capes on that level didn't bother with overtures in the first place, or were too affected by their own powers to ever attempt them.

    He didn't like focusing on worst case scenarios. Any potential conflict with Apeiron was going to be coordinated at levels well beyond him, likely as a Hail Mary combination of exotic powers precisely deployed with thinker assistance in whatever manner they believed might have a chance. Even if there was no chance, they were likely putting together engagement doctrines, if only to avoid having to admit how hopeless the situation would be.

    It was a situation that should never come about. Yes, they were living in a world where Apeiron could effectively wipe out any force on the planet at a whim, probably with some unforeseen effect of near-conceptual power. Yes, it was only Apeiron's restraint and good nature that avoided that situation, but he had spoken with the man twice before meeting him in person. He clearly wasn't the unstable mess that the more hardline faction wanted to make him out to be. He acted with care, compassion, and restraint. Which meant that if there was a conflict, it would be because someone had brought it down on them.

    Normally he would say no one could possibly be that stupid, but he had worked in the PRT far too long to make such statements. In person Apeiron had come across as surprisingly human. Surprising only because most people would expect some level of instability comparable to his power. That humanity was good, unquestionably so, but it also raised concerns. People could get frustrated, irritable, or just lose patience. They could be pushed too far and then push back. In a perfect world no one would dare push Apeiron, but this was far from a perfect world.

    There was a reason why his mind kept circling back to the worse case scenarios. It wasn't just the shocking power disparity between Apeiron and the entirety of the Protectorate. It wasn't the lack of assurances and restraints. It wasn't even the unstable situation in a city that Apeiron had expressed direct concern for.

    It was the tiny red flame of the lighter in his hand.

    He could feel that flame, the energy of it and what that represented, as it flowed through the entire system that he was responsible for. The Boston PRT, Protectorate, and all related initiatives. He could feel which areas were strained and which were under threat. Through the day he'd already made three calls to his deputy director, redeploying agents or capes to address incidents that could have been much worse without additional support. He didn't know exactly how that awareness worked or how far it extended, but there was one fact he was absolutely certain of.

    Something was building. Something big. Some threat or disruption or shift. He didn't know what, but it would hit his department. Probably more than just his department. At the moment it was either too far off or too indistinct for him to do anything about it, but it was coming, and soon.

    His grip tightened around the lighter in frustration. He was well aware of the caustic relationship most thinkers had with their powers. Even the ones not subject to crippling limitations still suffered some level of frustration with the mechanics of their abilities. And now he was finding himself in the same position. Knowing just enough to be on alert, but not enough to take any direct action to address what was coming.

    He took a breath and looked away from the flames, his awareness receding to minimal levels. That was another thing he'd learned. He didn't need to look at the flame to gain the effect. It was necessary to make use of the full extent of the device's abilities, but just feeling the warmth was enough for a rough awareness of that web of responsibility that extended from himself to the people he was responsible for, and who were responsible to him. It was feeling, rather than seeing, but it was still there, and actually made it possible to focus on different aspects of the awareness that the lighter granted him.

    It again made him wonder how far the effect could be pushed. What would happen if he attempted to focus on certain aspects of that awareness, or if he tried to amplify a specific one, or combine as many as possible. It was something that fascinated him, lining up with his own work in parahuman sciences and research, but he couldn't think of any way to focus or isolate effects that wouldn't come across as exactly the kind of ritual he had been so concerned about on Apeiron's part. It was entirely possible that he could gain some greater insight by converting the lighter to its brazier form and setting up an improvised sauna or sweat lodge, but that kind of behavior was likely to raise as many concerns from other officials as it would resolve on his part.

    …though it was possible that a non-improvised sauna might raise fewer concerns, and there had been two included in the facilities deployed by the Matrix's device. It might be seen as a bit indulgent if he commandeered one of them for his own use, but that would definitely be less concerning than if he openly performed some kind of fire-based divination ritual.

    He was pulled from his musings by the feel of a massive shift from the hearth flame in his hand. The approach of something immense and powerful and directed at his department. No, at him in particular. His eyes snapped back to the flame and he could see it. A towering figure, surging with power and wrought from countless facets, facets so complex that even the flame couldn't fully capture them. The same effect that let him maintain near perfect awareness over every concern of his department could only convey the slightest sliver of what was bearing down on him.

    "Good afternoon, Director."

    Armstrong flinched at the sudden voice, only his iron grip on the lighter keeping him from dropping it. He looked up at Apeiron, standing on the other side of his desk. His pulse, which had already been racing in response to what he'd learned from the flame, had accelerated to a terrifying degree, though he could feel it slowly drop to a merely excessive level, rather than actively dangerous.

    "Good afternoon-" Armstrong began, then cut himself off as he saw Apeiron's face. Even with his eyes concealed, the man's expression said more than enough. The time he had met with Apeiron, the man had been in apparent good spirits, despite the seriousness of what was being addressed. That wasn't the case anymore. His anger was obvious from a single glance, which somehow conveyed more than should have been possible from a simple expression. And may well have been, given the array of stranger powers that seemed to collect around the man.

    Armstrong swallowed. It wasn't the blind rage that the world had seen from Apeiron as he had pulled himself up from the impossible level of injury that March had inflicted upon him, which was a small mercy. Still, there was no question that this was anything but good. The fact that an angry Apeiron had just appeared in his office, rather than taking the steps to call and make arrangements, said enough. And made it abundantly clear how intentional those steps had been on the part of the tinker in order to make things somewhat more manageable for Armstrong and his department.

    A slight flicker drew Armstrong's eyes downwards, from Apeiron to the flame of the lighter still in his hand. What he saw caused him to tense as his pulse once again hammered to dangerous levels. He could see a shadow in the flame. A massive and complex shape superimposed over the man standing in his office. The light of the flame burned away the veils and obfuscation around the man, laying bare the titanic power in front of him. Layers of reality that had been folded over themselves peeled back, each time revealing more than it should have been possible to conceal, all building towards something immense and fundamental, something that went beyond power to the very foundations of reality.

    There was a slight gesture from Apeiron. The simple movement of a hand was echoed through the images in the flames like a collision of galaxies, and then the lighter clicked closed. Armstrong blinked, the light of the flames out of his eyes. He could still feel the warmth through the engraved metal, the very sensation granting him expanded understanding, but he was no longer looking at an unbridled cosmic force. Just a man, standing across from him in a borrowed office.

    At least to all appearances, but Armstrong couldn't forget what the flames had revealed. Once again, it seemed that the world had badly underestimated Apeiron, even in their most generous assessments.

    "Apeiron." Armstong repeated himself. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead. Without the intensity of the flame he was able to calm slightly, still tense, but not at the level of borderline panic he'd been struggling with. "Is something wrong?" He continued. As if it was even a question. Of course something was wrong. You could literally see it on the man's face.

    "It is." Apeiron said. "Or more specifically, it seems something has been wrong for quite some time, with the full extent of it only recently coming to my attention."

    Armstrong swallowed. He could feel the ebbs and shifts of the forces under his command from the lighter in his hand. It was subtle, but it was very clear that this was a critical issue. Unfortunately, it was also a distraction, and one he couldn't afford when dealing with Apeiron directly. He deliberately set the lighter down flat on the surface of the desk and looked up at the tinker.

    "What is the problem?" He asked in a voice of forced calm. "I promise I will do whatever I can to help."

    There was a slight movement of one of Apeiron's eyebrows above his metal visor. "I hope you'll forgive me for holding you to that." He said somewhat ominously. "But to answer your question, the core of the problem concerns the PRT East North East."

    The first thought that entered Armstrong's head, somewhat uncharitably, was 'Oh God, what did Director Piggot do?'. Quite possibly something to do with Gully's improbable recovery. Reports had shown her leaving the PRT, but beyond the general confirmation of key details of her case that had been circulated to other departments, he didn't have any insight as to what had happened during her time in the building, or what actions might have been taken after her departure.

    "Has something happened?" He asked, eyeing his phone. Anything that could have occurred obviously wasn't significant enough to warrant an alert, though if he could possibly get ahead of the situation there might be some hope to mitigate whatever had set Apeiron off.

    "Many things have happened, though not in the context you would mean." Apeiron said. "It would be more accurate to say that I am now fully aware of past actions, of everything that 'has happened' with respect to that department."

    "Ah." Armstrong said. Given the clear capabilities of Apeiron's team and Survey in particular, coupled with the now infamous breaches of information security on the part of the PRT ENE, it was easy to imagine that Apeiron had already been well informed as to the department's history and anything they might have wished to conceal.

    On reflection, despite that scenario representing a colossal breach of security for the PRT, there had been a certain comfort drawn from it. Namely, the assumption that Apeiron was already aware of any skeletons in the closets of the Brockton Bay office. It was hardly ideal, but it meant that Apeiron's current attitude towards the PRT was as bad as it was likely to get, barring any future missteps. Afterall, Apeiron clearly had the ability to learn anything he might want to know, so obviously he would have done so. Why would he do any less?

    Well, possibly because that level of investigation was a breach of countless laws. It hadn't occurred to anyone that Apeiron might actually be trying to follow the law, at least to a point. A point well beyond anything that would be expected from someone of his power and resources, and a point that they had clearly moved past, likely for good reason.

    "Yes." Apeiron said coolly. "I had been extending some level of… tolerance towards the more contentious actions of the Brockton Bay PRT, given the circumstances of our early encounters and the situation they were attempting to manage. After some recent revelations regarding the department, I am no longer feeling quite so generous."

    "The situation is serious?" Armstrong asked. Obviously the situation was serious. That seemed to be the base level for Brockton Bay, even before the crisis, but Apeiron had clearly discovered something elevated beyond those obvious concerns.

    "Yes." He said plainly. "And much worse than other departments believe. At this point, I can honestly say it was fortunate that I was able to avoid any entanglements with the department early in my career."

    "That is…" Armstrong trailed off. Generally, despite everything that happened, there had been at least an acceptance that a less contentious situation around Apeiron's debut would have significantly helped to address or even prevent the disaster that had unfolded in Brockton Bay. Only now Apeiron himself was saying he preferred that to a closer association with the PRT East North East. He dearly hoped that that was hyperbole on Apeiron's part, rather than a clinical assessment of the situation.

    "That is serious." He said.

    "Yes." Apeiron said, "Serious enough that I had to wonder how common such things were for other PRT Departments."

    "I can assure you, the types of missteps and breaches that have been exposed in Brockton Bay are not the kind of thing that would be tolerated across the PRT as a whole." He said quickly.

    "And you can assure me of that?" Apeiron asked directly.

    Armstrong paused, then forced himself to nod. "I'm not saying other departments are perfect. Far from it. There will always be missteps and oversights, but they are the exception, not the rule. I would ask you to keep that in mind when considering these matters."

    "Exceptions and oversights." The man mused. "That's a rather mild way of referring to the type of breach that can occur through an organization of nearly unchecked power when it comes to the management of parahumans." Apeiron refocused on Armstrong with an intensity that he could almost feel. "And of course, there is the small issue of policies designed to downplay or conceal any issue of note."

    Armstrong nodded. "I understand how such policies might come across, but the PRT is responsible for both the identities of the Protectorate heroes in our divisions and for coordinating actions against individual villains and established organizations. Privacy and security require a certain degree of discretion in such matters."

    "I do understand." Apeiron said. "But I also understand how such a policy could easily be used to mask issues that by all accounts should have been brought to light and addressed." He paused. "Or perhaps I should say I understand how such a policy HAS been used to mask such issues."

    Armstrong felt himself tense. "Has?" He asked. "I take it you have… looked into things yourself?"

    "Given what I discovered about the PRT East North East, I was not willing to take it on faith that such things did not occur in other departments. Thus, I have looked into the matter." His expression shifted slightly. "Which I suppose does count as a confession of a serious breach of lawful conduct, and made directly to the director of a PRT branch. Of course, legal protections against the discovery of illegal or borderline illegal activities could be considered a gray area, though I doubt that will be the element of this situation anyone is likely to focus on, particularly given the general assumptions of my level of information gathering prior to this action."

    Armstrong nodded. As he had noted, people already expected that Apeiron would have at least looked into the PRT ENE, if not the entire agency, and there was no serious thought given to attempting to charge him over such a matter. The fact that he had restrained himself prior to whatever revelation had set off this course of action was remarkable on its own, though from the sound of things that had likely only spurred him into greater action than anyone had initially feared.

    "And this applied to the PRT, as a whole?" Armstrong asked, then another thought shot into his head. That perhaps Apeiron was not merely here to inform him of his concerns with the Brockton Bay Department. His mind raced, searching through the history of his career, picking out the more questionable or ignoble actions he'd taken in response to the needs of his position.

    "Indeed." Apeiron said smoothly. "Though to assuage your own concerns, I am pleased to say that the Boston department was one of the least contentious offices, though not without some questionable matters."

    Armstrong nodded, feeling sweat drip down his back. "Such as?"

    A cold smile appeared on Apeiron's face. "Well, for starters, I doubt the families of Ashley Stillons victims would be pleased to know their tax dollars are being used to pay the utility bills of the woman responsible for their loved one's deaths."

    "Ah, yes." Armstrong said. "In that case, given the damage and injuries that consistently result from direct confrontation, compared to the expense incurred, I felt it was a justified course of action."

    "Justified, yes." Apeiron said. "Significant risk with a lack of effective means of addressing the situation, mitigation is understandable. A policy of pacification makes sense from a logical standpoint, though as I said, those directly impacted by the woman's actions would likely feel differently about the matter."

    Armstrong nodded. "Regrettably, that is a problem inherent to my position, to every director's position. It is rare that you have the resources and ability to perfectly address every situation. Compromises must be made, often on behalf of other people who are either blameless or the actual injured parties. It is not a good thing, but it is preferable to an idealistic stance that only leads to chaos and failure."

    "I understand that, though it does seem that 'compromises' are far more common than anyone would wish to admit." He shook his head. "Director Armstrong, I am not blind to the nature of the world. Believe me, I am fully aware of the challenges required to keep a degree of order and civilization in the face of a parahuman landscape. Anyone can look to Africa or South America to see how these matters could have progressed in the absence of such 'compromises'. Those are understandable and to a degree are forgivable, but only to a degree." Apeiron's expression hardened. "For instance, the amount of effort and resources expended on behalf of Bastion last June."

    Armstrong's face fell. "That was…" He paused. Trying to dismiss those events in the face of someone like Apeiron felt foolish. Instead he pushed ahead as well as he could, given the subject matter. "That was extremely unfortunate. I would have preferred to take stronger measures, but the nature of the situation and Bastion's position, in addition to his… obstinance on the matter, made that untenable."

    Apeiron nodded. "And the potential impact on his daughter." He said, adding details that Armstrong had left out. "I can understand additional care regarding the involvement and potential identity of a Ward, but it was still dismissal of what would have at minimum been minor criminal charges with potential civil cases. In exchange for 'internal disciplinary measures' and a claim of immunity?"

    Armstrong let out a breath. If Blockade hadn't been involved, things likely would have gone considerably worse for her father. Of course, if Blockade hadn't been involved the incident probably never would have happened. The only good thing about the mess was how effectively it had been swept under the rug. It was practically a master class in information control and management. He'd even heard an offhanded joke about it being used as a case study for other directors, which was mortifying on more levels that he could even begin to count.

    "I can't say I am particularly happy with the outcome of that matter." Armstrong admitted.

    "Yes, that outcome." Apeiron said. "Specifically, the outcome that allowed Bastion to avoid any consequences or corrective actions. Actions that might have allowed you to avoid the current public relations crisis surrounding the man."

    Armstrong dropped his head at the reference to the recent cell phone video of Bastion's slur filled tirade. The public relations team was doing what they could, but it was plain to see that any attempt to play the incident off as a singular event under extreme circumstances would fall flat.

    Apeiron nodded. "There are other incidents I could bring up, many of which could be considered worse, but I am somewhat sympathetic to the compromises that a man in your position must make, and am equally aware of the effort and capital you have expended to mitigate the impact of those compromises, both during and after the fact. What I am trying to point out here, with this specific example, is how there was clear evidence of a problem with one of your heroes, a hero who occupied a position of considerable responsibility and authority, and yet nothing was done. As if he would get better on his own, or exercise sufficient restraint in both his personal and professional life, or keep things at a level where they could be conveniently concealed from the public."

    "Those kinds of corrective actions can be difficult." Armstrong said carefully. "Even for directors who want to act, there are other factors they need to consider. The PRT and the Protectorate have considerable internal politics."

    "I'd gathered." Apeiron said levelly.

    Armstrong nodded. "Ideally, all decisions would be made in a vacuum, considering only what is the best outcome, but that's not how the system operates. Postings and promotions are based as much on connections, popularity, PR pressure, thematic concerns, force balance, and the distribution of specific powers than any level of individual merit."

    "And that extends to disciplinary actions." Apeiron said.

    "Regrettably." Armstrong said. "And even when other factors don't come into play, many directors will try to take a softer hand. Shelter the heroes in their department and maintain a positive relationship." He remembered some of his recent clashes with Bastion both before and after the release of that video. "Conflicts with ranking members of the Protectorate team you are responsible for overseeing can be dangerous, if only for the lack of effective response to emergency situations within your city."

    "Yes, I think Brockton Bay has provided a rather clear example of that." Apeiron said dryly.

    Armstrong looked up in surprise at the closest thing to a joke he had heard since the man materialized in his office. He had been so caught up in defending his own actions that he had forgotten the reason that Apeiron had arrived in the first place. It was a reminder that whatever failings the Celestial Forge had unearthed about his own department, they were probably nothing compared to the situation in the PRT ENE.

    "I understand the complexities faced by someone in your position, and I understand that the standards the people expect of capes are difficult to live up to, even in the best of situations. The problem comes when breaches of those standards are concealed or even enabled. When it's judged that addressing the current problem is not worth the cost. That whatever would need to be done would be worse than the damage caused by the incident in question, and by any future incidents." Apeiron shook his head. "In reality, you're just gambling against the possibility of future problems, doubling down each time you need to overlook an offence or conceal a breach, until eventually you reach a bet that you can never hope to cover."

    Armstrong was quite certain that they were no longer talking about Bastion, at least not in isolation. Apeiron had learned something about the PRT ENE. In fact, it was probably a safe bet that he had learned everything about the PRT ENE. Armstrong wasn't an expert on the details of that department, at least not beyond what had come to light over the past few weeks, but he had an inkling of what Apeiron might have discovered.

    "Is this… Are you talking about Assault?" He asked.

    A small smile crossed Apeiron's face as he shook his head. "No, though I have to say, that was an interesting case. Despite the severity of the crimes in question, I do not have a problem with someone who is taking their parole and probation seriously. Assault is doing more good as a member of the Brockton Bay Protectorate than he would have as yet another resident of the Birdcage." He paused and looked down at Armstrong. "I will say that the decision to assign him to Battery comes across as more than a little questionable, given their personal history and the four-year age gap. If that had gone wrong, and it could have gone horribly wrong, I would have much stronger feelings about the situation, as I would if he were actually walking free, rather than on indefinite enhanced probation."

    Armstrong nodded. "I see." He said. That was one potential bomb headed off, though that just raised the question of what specifically it was that Apeiron had discovered. Honestly, there was no shortage of potential issues. The handling of the city's power balance and the horrors that had facilitated were now common knowledge and had tarnished the reputations of everyone in a position of command.

    That included Armsmaster, whose conduct in the early days of the crisis had been nearly as detrimental as that of Director Piggot. The man had ironically been spared the worst of the blame thanks to being incapacitated with critical injuries during the opening Attacks. Injuries sustained in the same conflict that had seen Weld lost at the bottom of the bay, isolated for more than a full day before Apeiron had gone out of his way to recover him. That alone had been enough to sour Armstrong's feelings about the man, but even independent of his own issues there had been a concern raised regarding the manner in which Lung had initially been subdued. He didn't have access to the full details, but whatever it was had resulted in a deadly force evaluation, one that would likely have been pursued further if not for the attacks taking precedence over everything else.

    Armstrong wasn't aware of any more issues with the core Protectorate team beyond Assault's situation, but the conduct of the Brockton Bay Wards had raised numerous concerns. He had been aware of Shadow Stalker's probationary status prior to Weld's transfer, but for the rest of the Wards, the conduct during their clash with the Undersiders had been concerning. A Wards team had been placed in operational command of a hostage situation. The entire team had been excessively focused on clashing with the villains in question with minimal concern extended to the safety of the civilians. Coupled with the deployment of excessively dangerous technology on the part of Kid Win and Aegis refusing disengagement when severely outmatched, and it painted a rather bleak picture of the nature of that program. One that had resulted in what was thought to be one of the most disastrous moments in the history of the Wards as a whole.

    Of course, that had needed to be reevaluated several times during the subsequent weeks.

    The question of what exactly Apeiron had discovered felt like something Armstrong should pursue, and he probably would have if Apeiron was being more focused in his anger. It was easier to inquire about the source of a problem if you weren't included in it. Instead Apeiron was apparently holding the entire PRT to account, and not without reason.

    "Um, the matters with my department…" Armstrong began.

    Apeiron shook his head. "As I've said, far from the worst I've found. It is likely some matters will come to light that I'm sure you would have preferred to remain out of the public eye, but there are no immediate concerns that I feel the need to address." He explained. "At least not with your department itself."

    "What do you mean?" Armstrong asked.

    "It is something of a secondary concern to my recent investigations, but while I am here I would like to ask if you know why the hairpin I constructed as a proof of my identity for Panacea is currently within your city?" He asked. "Or more specifically, within the headquarters of the Ambassadors?"

    Armstrong blinked. "Persephone's Rainbow?" He asked.

    Apeiron gave him a look of mild exasperation. "According to the PRT's chosen terminology, yes, though I want to clarify that I had no part in the naming of that particular item."

    Armstrong nodded, but his mind was already racing. Accord had Persephone's Rainbow. The reason, well, it was rather straightforward. The disappearance of that item had fueled many of the more outlandish theories about Apeiron's abilities and his initial intentions. Theories that had been difficult to dismiss in their entirety, given the events in question.

    "Accord stole it." Armstrong said. "Or had it stolen." Simple theft, rather than the theorized conspiracy.

    "I gathered as much." Apeiron said. "Though it is likely there was a third party acting on Accord's behalf. While there were complexities to the incident, they do not match the pattern of behavior expected from Accord."

    Armstrong nodded. Accord tended to act in a recognizable fashion, to put things lightly. If he was involved there would either be no sign or it would be blatantly obvious though near iconic complexity.

    "You mean complexities beyond the initial concerns?" Armstrong asked.

    Apeiron nodded and his expression turned grim. "Among the numerous points of concern, Sebastian Slight, the missing lab technician, has been killed, with his body rather professionally scrubbed of identifying features and deposited in the wetlands north of Ipswich."

    Armstrong sat up, the seriousness of the subject briefly clearing his head of the more abstract concerns relating to Apeiron's presence. Lofty talk of corruption and behavior standards was one thing, but this was the murder of a PRT employee. Not one of his own agents, but that didn't make it any less serious.

    "Did your investigation reveal that, or was this the result of some form of thinker power?" Armstrong asked, already planning the next steps for both eventualities.

    "Thinker power. Regretfully, there was insufficient information available to reveal more precise details, save that the murder happened outside of PRT headquarters." Apeiron removed a thin folder from his jacket, from a pocket that could not have fit the item in question. "A truncated report of the incident, timeline, available supporting evidence, and the GPS location of the remains."

    Armstrong nodded, accepting the folder carefully. Technically this case should be referred to the PRT ENE and the Brockton Bay Police Department, but it was unlikely that a collaboration with either group would be fruitful, particularly given the importance of the particular case. With the incident having crossed state lines and the involvement of Accord he could easily sidestep any jurisdictional issues. Not that Director Piggot could really afford to challenge him on that front, considering her current situation.

    "Additionally, regarding Barrett Nelson, the technician who replaced the late Sebastian Slight." Another folder was produced. "While this is possibly circumstantial, Mr. Nelson had a considerable number of well concealed financial liabilities which were rather proficiently hidden from his superiors. Liabilities that have become rather less pressing following his advancement in position due to a variety of discreet but well-coordinated outside factors."

    Armstrong's frown deepened as he accepted the second folder. There were policies in place that attempted to mitigate situations of that nature. Financially vulnerable PRT employees were a point of danger for any department. While there was a limit to what could be done, taking on excessive debt or engaging in high-risk investments was heavily discouraged, for obvious reasons. From the look of things, Barrett Nelson's case was a perfect example of why that particular policy existed.

    Of course, unearthing it represented yet another example of what was at best illegally questionable data gathering, but they were well past the point of raising that kind of concern. Doubly so, considering how this particular incident had colored the official policy towards Apeiron in the early days of his public career.

    "Regarding the situation with Accord, given the fact that this is your city, and the level of general reaction to any action on the part of myself or a member of my team, I assumed you would prefer a chance to address this situation through your own initiative." Apeiron offered. "Rather than, say, someone tearing the roof off of Accord's headquarters and questioning the man directly."

    Armstrong looked up from the files, catching the sight of a slightly manic smile from Apeiron before the man schooled his expression once again. Carefully he closed the file in question and nodded at the man.

    "Yes, I think that would be for the best." He said. "I promise I will deal with this situation personally."

    The murder of a PRT agent significantly amplified the severity of this case. He wasn't certain how involved Accord had been in the event in question, though Apeiron seemed to be correct about the lack of evidence of the man's involvement in how the theft and killing had been conducted. Still, there was some level of culpability, made worse by the implications that had been drawn from the theft and disappearance. That would need to be addressed.

    "Thank you." Apeiron said. "While you are at it, you could also look into the reason why Accord has recovered the seating area I fabricated during my first discussion with Weld and relocated it to a dedicated room in his headquarters."

    Armstrong froze, taking a moment to process exactly what Apeiron had just said. "I'm sorry, did you say…"

    Apeiron nodded. "Both the benches and pillars, apparently salvaged from the bottom of Brockton's bay and now located in a dedicated space within the Ambassador's headquarters, in a room that precisely matches the area that was cleared for my discussion with Weld."

    "That's…" Armstrong didn't know how to respond to that. He had been prepared for some sinister motive on Accord's part, perhaps tangential association with forces intending to turn the PRT and Apeiron against each other during the early days of the ABB's attacks. That wasn't impossible, given the extent of the man's connections, but no part of that would explain why or even how the man had recovered a selection of solid stone benches and pillars from the ocean floor and transported them to Boston, apparently to a specific room meant to emulate the dimensions of Apeiron's conversation with Weld.

    Armstrong cleared his throat. "That is not behavior I would expect from Accord under normal circumstances." He said carefully. "I believe there may be other factors involved in this situation."

    Apeiron nodded. "As do I, which is why I am restraining my response, despite the fact that a man lost his life over this."

    Armstrong returned the nod. "I understand. I can assure you, I will be treating this situation with the seriousness it warrants."

    "I appreciate that." Apeiron said. "But please note that this is far from the only issue I have identified, and not close to the most serious." Any hint of levity dropped from his face. "The details are going to come out, for everyone. In every department. There have been too many compromises, too many tradeoffs at the expense of people who looked to the PRT for safety and security. That has to end, no matter the cost."

    Armstrong felt a cold sweat as he looked up at the man. He knew the PRT was far from perfect, that too many Directors took their role more casually than they should have. That issues, mistakes, and missteps often got swept under the rug rather than addressed in the public sphere. He knew that, but he always believed it was something that came out in the balance. That the good they did, the difference they made, more than made up for the sins their position occasionally required.

    It was possible that was the case and Apeiron was merely taking a hardline stance in response to being treated particularly poorly by the department of his home city. That the details that would be revealed would be embarrassing, damaging, but ultimately survivable.

    But that wasn't the sense that he was getting from Apeiron. The man wouldn't have arrived in his office unannounced and fuming in rage because of a handful of embarrassing and distasteful events. This was serious. It had been serious from the moment he had arrived, he just hadn't known how serious. Or maybe he'd just been hoping it wasn't as bad as he feared. That his fellow directors and the heroes they represented were better than that. That, while they might fall, they at least tried to do what was right.

    On reflection, that was both excessively idealistic and embarrassingly naïve.

    "How bad is it, really?" He asked, not certain he wanted to know the answer. Apeiron at least seemed to accept his apparent acceptance of the severity of the situation, earning him a small nod.

    "Bad." Apeiron said. "Though it varies from one department to another. Boston will probably make it through with minimal loss of face, at least for the department as a whole." Armstrong nodded. It didn't speak well of Bastion's future, but that was already something of a lost cause. "There are a few other departments around the same level, but some are much worse."

    "How much worse?" Armstrong asked.

    "Vegas is probably a lost cause." Apeiron said. "And I mean that from the Director and head of the Protectorate down."

    Armstrong blinked. The Las Vegas department had something of a reputation, mostly connected to the challenge of dealing with the integrity of the casino system in a world full of parahumans. It was considered to be a place that required a 'special type' to thrive in that environment, perhaps more flexible and adaptable, but not on the level Apeiron was implying. But if Apeiron was certain…

    Apeiron was certain. That was one thing he didn't doubt. For all the concerns about instability and power influence, he had been completely rational each time they had spoken. Terrifyingly powerful, but still rational. This time, well, there was clearly some level of emotion influencing that rationality, but if he had, in the space of an afternoon, confronted every sin and fault of both the PRT and Protectorate, would he have taken it nearly as well?

    Probably not. He was only working from assumptions and implications, and even that was nearly too much. How bad were things in Las Vegas? How bad were things across the country? Or, more specifically, how bad had they been allowed to get? Brockton Bay was being held up as the ultimate example of a city and department that had gone off the rails, but the elements and factors that led to that situation were hardly unique.

    Even with his own best efforts, he had a list of ignoble acts that he would prefer to not have to justify to anyone outside his department. All you would really need was something less than a director's best efforts for things to start to fall apart, and as Apeiron had pointed out, these kinds of problems tended to build upon themselves. The longer they went unaddressed the worse they were likely to become.

    "While no other departments are quite on that level, there are significant outliers, as well as individual cases severe enough to require direct action." Apeiron explained.

    Armstrong took a breath. "And you are prepared to release this information?"

    "I am." He said. "Not immediately, not with the other matters I need to address, but this is not something I can allow to pass."

    This would be the point where Armstrong would be expected to act. To argue or negotiate, to make some offer or appeal, find some way to prevent what would likely be the most damaging event in the history of the Protectorate. Except this was Apeiron. Even if he was inclined to challenge, what could he possibly do? What could anyone do? What threats or bribes or concessions might influence the man's behavior?

    Well, there was one possibility. Legitimacy. The tacit approval of the PRT, and everything that included. An accepted public identity, social status, economic freedom, and widespread media support. It was something that was even technically possible to grant to villains, with engagement protocols that effectively ceded sections of territory to specific parahumans or organizations.

    It was something that had been denied to Apeiron upon his debut, and in many ways the fact that the PRT could arbitrarily restore it served to prove his point regarding their practices. What's more, the offer that would normally be considered to be beyond value now represented nothing but the acceptance of an organization he clearly held serious issue with. It was unlikely that personally receiving the kind of backroom offer that he was specifically working to call out would improve his opinion.

    "What kind of timeline are you considering?" Armstrong asked.

    "Not within the next few days, for reasons that will become apparent." Apeiron said without elaborating. "Ideally I would like to see some effort by departments to address what matters they are able to, though should word get out and specific parties instead decide to begin shredding documents and attempting to flee to foreign nations it's safe to say I would be prepared to substantially accelerate my timeline."

    Armstrong nodded as Apeiron continued.

    "Of course, with the matter of Brockton Bay, steps have already been taken that will likely result in the complete destruction of Director Piggot's career and reputation and severe consequences for both the local PRT and the general impression of the organization as a whole." Apeiron said smoothly.

    Armstrong tensed as he looked up at the almost pleased expression on the man's face. "What did you do?" He asked in a voice that was less steady than he would have liked.

    "I provided extensive support to the Mary H. Cohen Women's Shelter in Concord, New Hampshire." Apeiron explained.

    "That's…" Armstrong stopped, his response stalling out from under him. The need to somehow restrain whatever impending doom was about to rain down upon the PRT ran headfirst into the inanity of Apeiron's statement. "How is that…" He wracked his brain. Something about that name… "I know I have heard of that organization before."

    "That's not surprising." Apeiron said. "It's where the women who were rescued from the ABB's 'farms' are being cared for."

    Armstrong felt his eyes widen. "What kind of support?" He asked.

    "Medical treatment to address the abuse and narcotic exposure that had been inflicted upon them." Apeiron explained. "And a full set of improved translation devices."

    "Improved?" Armstrong asked. "You mean better than the ones the Matrix provided?"

    "Significantly better." Apeiron said. "Full, unaccented real-time translation, accommodating for idioms and colloquialisms, and allowing unobstructed synchronized lip movement." Apeiron smiled. "Effectively indistinguishable from native speech."

    Armstrong let out a breath. It was an order of magnitude above the already impossible translation devices that had been casually issued to his men. Impossible because, due to differences in sentence structure and grammar, the devices would need to be able to know what a person was trying to say before they said it. What everyone in the area was trying to say, not just the wearer.

    And this was an improved version, one that could provide translation that was 'indistinguishable from native speech'. On the surface it seemed like a simple act of charity, the kind of support that had already been extended to his own situation, but the reality was much more complicated than that. Apeiron intended this as an attack against Director Piggot, the PRT ENE, and the impression of the PRT as a whole, and he had a suspicion how the man intended for things to play out.

    "How does that involve Director Piggot?" He asked.

    "It does not involve her directly in any fashion." Apeiron said. "Only the consequences of her actions. I should mention that an investigative reporting team had already reached out to the Mary H. Cohen Women's Shelter inquiring as to the condition of the women and checking if any of them wished to share their story. Given the medical issues and language barriers, the request was initially going to be rejected, but following the recent treatments and the ease of communication, several women have expressed interest in speaking with the reporters about exactly what happened to them, including their accounts of the ABB's rather cavalier dismissal of the possibility of the Protectorate taking any action against their operation."

    Armstrong swallowed. In a way, what Apeiron had planned was worse than a direct attack. He could have held up the PRT's tolerance or ignorance of the Farms as a damning admonishment of Director Piggot's administration, but instead he was allowing the victims of her policies to do that for him. Not through exploitation, but simply by facilitating them to function as speak freely about what had happened. What had been allowed to happen. To speak, not through subtitles or hired translators or broken English, but with the full backing of Apeiron's translation technology. Technology that would allow them to bring across every detail of what had happened to them. To remind the world that Piggot's actions, that the PRT's policies had a human cost, humans with names and faces and voices, not just statistics.

    It almost seemed like an excessively light touch from someone of Apeiron's abilities, but in this case that lightness was strength. There were factions aligned against Apeiron, desperate to counter or curtail him in any way they could. Hopeless in most cases, but still, the drive was there. If Apeiron had challenged Director Piggot or the PRT there would likely have at least been a token of pushback, but this? Coming from the victims of the ABB? Giving them voices? That was a lot harder to ignore.

    Harder, but not impossible. A more organized PRT could probably kill a story like this, either deter the reporting team or get it pulled from broadcast, but even with the damage this was likely to do to the reputation of the PRT as a whole, no one would be inclined to expend that kind of effort to make the story go away, particularly since there was a significant chance that any attempts would only make the situation worse.

    "That is likely to have a rather profound impact." Armstrong said in a level tone.

    "Yes, it might actually help convey the idea that the people impacted by PRT and Protectorate policies are actually PEOPLE, rather than just figures on a balance sheet or elements of a cost/benefit analysis." Apeiron said.

    Armstrong nodded grimly. As far as inducing cultural changes in PRT analysis, he couldn't say, but it would certainly put the entire organization into damage control mode. While trying to suppress the story would only cause problems, it would be much easier to double down on casting the entire situation as an element unique to Brockton Bay and Director Piggot's leadership. Under other situations Armstrong would consider that somewhat unfair, but he had read about the ages of some of the girls recovered from those facilities. This was a case where it could be said that the public's thirst for blood and retribution was quite justified, though the responsibility probably extended further than just the Director.

    "Is this the kind of thing you have planned for other departments?" Armstrong asked.

    Apeiron shook his head. "I'm not in favor of dramatic expressions of justice. This is something of a special case, given the circumstances of the ABB's victims. They deserve a chance to be heard, that just happens to align with my own goals. For other departments, a public release of evidence should be sufficient."

    Normally it wouldn't be, but once again, this was Apeiron. Anything coming from the man was likely to carry significantly more weight, to say nothing of what kind of 'evidence' he had likely collected, or how he would release it.

    "This has the potential to be devastating." Armstrong said. He quickly looked up. "I'm not saying it shouldn't be done, not if things are as bad as you say, but all the concerns regarding force composition and balance of powers don't go away just because this is the right thing to do."

    "Quite." Apeiron said. "In which case I suppose it will be necessary to rebalance those powers, specifically into the hands of less contentious individuals."

    "That is a nice sentiment, but I don't see how it can be accomplished." Armstrong said.

    Apeiron just smiled at him, then glanced down at the surface of his desk. At the small metal case of the lighter.

    "What?" Armstrong asked. "That's your plan?"

    "It wasn't exactly a difficult task." He said. "Honestly, for me it's more challenging to make something without significant implications."

    "You're serious?" Armstrong asked.

    Apeiron shrugged. "I met Flechette earlier today and made her an origami flower from a piece of paper from her notebook." He said, "They're probably going to have to significantly increase her threat rating."

    Armstrong blinked, trying to process what he just heard. "You met with Flechette?"

    "And with Weld." Apeiron said. "He asked to trade away the full treatment of his contract in exchange for what I could do for the rest of the Case 53s."

    Armstrong closed his mouth, not noticing it had dropped open. That… that sounded like something Weld would do. In a way it was a terrible loss for the boy, but he knew the kind of guilt Weld carried from how his situation was viewed by other Case 53s, even more so after his partial treatment.

    "Was that, regarding Gully's treatment…"

    Apeiron just shook his head. "A separate contract, made on her behalf." Armstrong nodded. It was policy not to inquire about Apeiron's contracts, though the presence of his team did add additional potential avenues for where such an offer could have come from. "Though Weld did receive an additional one himself."

    Armstrong looked up. "He did?"

    Apeiron nodded. "Full treatment, in recognition of selfless behavior. At a reduced priority, so only after the other Case 53s. He did receive a loan of augmented metal to tide him over."

    Armstrong furrowed his brow. Apeiron's flippancy and rapid-fire delivery could be seen as amusing, but he was talking about Weld. Armstrong was the boy's guardian and took the position seriously.

    "Augmented how?" He asked directly.

    Apeiron at least recognized the source of his irritation and refocused on Armstrong. "It's an empowered silver compound that is substantially lighter than the ferric material that it displaced. It should allow Weld to avoid accidental metal absorption, providing he maintains it as the external layer, as well as improved precision and speed with his physical alteration abilities."

    Armstrong let out a breath. "And you're sure about the effects?"

    "Completely." Apeiron said, which was probably as close to a guarantee as Armstrong could hope to receive.

    So, Weld had received some new form of metal, somewhat ironically exactly the kind of thing he had been deployed to Brockton Bay to deal with. Flechette had received a paper flower that somehow significantly increased her threat rating. An alteration to Dauntless's lance had massively increased the man's offensive power and growth potential. Dozens of tinkers were fighting over scraps of energized material or obsessing over what could be accomplished with the particles of the blackout field. And he…

    He had a lighter. A lighter that transformed and represented a fundamental shift in his perception of the universe. Which he had seen Apeiron make out of a ball of fire and a paperclip. If Aperion said he could 'rebalance' things following any disruption to the PRT and Protectorate, Armstrong was inclined to believe him.

    "I see." Armstrong said, reaching down to pick up the lighter. He could feel the warmth of the flame through the metal casing. "I don't doubt you, I just didn't expect to receive one of your 'rebalancing' items myself."

    "Two." Apeiron said.

    Armstrong looked up. "Ah, yes, I suppose the GECK would count."

    "Probably, but that wasn't what I was talking about." Apeiron said. He gestured at the lighter. "The flame counts as a separate item from the lighter. Or the lantern, or lamp, or brazier, regardless of what form it's in."

    "Well, yes, I suppose that technically-"

    "No." Apeiron said. "Not technically. The flame is the manifested hearth fire, the lighter is the control and focusing device. They do different things, and as individual items they are more powerful than a combined creation."

    "Ah." Armstrong said, refocusing on the lighter. It would probably have been a grander statement if Apeiron wasn't saying that he effectively had twice the power of a paperclip or origami flower. Of course, he could only guess at what the power of that origami flower actually was, and the same was true of both the paperclip and the flame.

    "I have to admit that I have found the experience of using this device a little overwhelming." Armstrong said. Apeiron raised an eyebrow at him. "Not that I am ungrateful, but the extent to which it is able to… reach, how comprehensive it is, it is more than I was ready to deal with."

    "Well, that's good." Apeiron said.

    Armstrong's eyebrows rose. "It's good that it's more than I can deal with?" He asked.

    "It's good that you are able to deal with it to that degree, with the potential for more." Apeiron explained. "Director, that is the Fire of Hearth and Home. The power it has is not something that can be arbitrarily deployed. The hearth is a symbol of protection, responsibility, and authority. If you are able to use it to excess that means you are able to take on those aspects to excess. And if you need to protect and command those under your care and area of responsibility, the flame will be able to rise to meet that need."

    Armstrong held up the lighter, then closed his hand around the metal casing. "You make it sound like something out of a myth." He said.

    Apeiron smiled. "That is an association I am quite keen to avoid."

    Armstrong returned the smile. "That might be difficult, all things considered." He let out a breath. "Thank you for the warning, such as it is."

    Apeiron nodded. "It seemed the courteous thing to do, given our relationship."

    "I do appreciate that." He said. "I am sorry the PRT was not able to live up to your standards. I can promise you, I will do what I can to make this right."

    What he could. Which wasn't much, beyond looking after his own department and addressing what dirty laundry he could afford to air, at least before they were aired for him. Not something that would be easy, particularly when working remote from the city, but if the PRT as a whole was going to survive Apeiron's displeasure, every director would need to do what he could.

    "Thank you, Director, and my apologies for dropping in unannounced." Apeiron said.

    "Under the circumstances, I think it is understandable." He said, rising to his feet.

    Apeiron nodded back to him. "Good luck, Director. I will be in touch."

    And then he was gone. No manifested portal, no lightshow of bending of space, just a sudden disappearance, leaving Armstrong alone in the office.

    He held for a moment, taking in the silence, then let his legs collapse under him as he fell back into his chair with a great exhalation of breath. It was hard to process just what had happened. Apeiron had uncovered seemingly every sin of the Protectorate and PRT and was poised to release them at some indeterminate point in the future, presumably after whatever aspects of the situation in Brockton Bay had been dealt with.

    That was by any metric a code red for the entire organization. He should be calling the chief director's office and launching into a frantic plan on how to hold off the release as long as possible and challenge as many aspects of it as they could. A desperate, largely hopeless battle of PR fought against someone who only wanted justice for what were likely truly objectionable breaches in conduct.

    He wasn't going to call the chief director's office. He wasn't going to take any action, not beyond the bounds of his own department. He had seen what Apeiron could do with a paperclip and a bit of fire. The Flames of Hearth and Home didn't represent a destructive force, the kind that could be countered through strike teams and precision tactics. It was a thinker power, a power of coordination, awareness, and forewarning.

    And it had been nothing to Apeiron. The throwaway remnants of a demonstration, with the only interesting aspect being Armstrongs apparent affinity for the effect. If Apeiron was capable of that, there was no chance of outmaneuvering him. Not in the field of battle and not in the court of public opinion, particularly not when you were the party in the wrong.

    Instead he reached for his phone and pulled up the number for his deputy director. While the call was ringing he considered for a moment, then casually flicked the lighter open. His awareness suddenly spread with the glow from the flame and he knew the situation in the central office, with his deputy director working late at her office as her phone rang. She checked the number before quickly answering the call.

    "Director?" She asked with some urgency. Somewhat understandable, given his last few calls had involved response teams or the distribution of forces.

    "Sanders." He said. "I need you to reach out to Accord through the usual channels and arrange a meeting as soon as possible."

    "Accord?" She said, checking her clock. "At this time of night? Sir, you know how he is likely to respond."

    "I am aware." He said. "But this isn't something we can afford to leave unattended. Be polite, but also direct. The sooner we can meet the better it will be for all of us."

    "Yes, Sir." She said, already pulling up files on her computer.

    "Thank you Sanders. Contact me as soon as you have an update, regardless of the time."

    "I will, Sir." She said. "Anything else?"

    "Yes." He said, opening the two files that Apeiron had supplied. "Some information has been provided regarding an active case that appears to have moved into our jurisdiction. I will send you a summary and the assignments for the initial investigation."

    "Thank you, Sir." She said before hanging up.

    Armstrong looked down, then flicked the lighter closed. It was so much power for a casual creation. Too much power. And Apeiron had implied, if not outright stated, that items like the lighter would be able to 'rebalance' things in the aftermath of… whatever form that revelation was going to take. Whenever it was going to happen. Apeiron had spoken like it was in the distant future, but from what he knew about that man that could very well mean he intended to do it in three days' time.

    In three days the world could be a completely different place. That seemed to be a fact of life when dealing with Apeiron, though no one was really prepared for that kind of pace. Not even Apeiron, if his guess was correct. He let out a breath, then sank back into his chair. The day had been too long, and not just because it had technically started in the afternoon of the previous day with only short naps to tie him over from the rush to prepare everything for what he assumed would be a long and complex treatment process.

    Not a short late-morning visit where things were wrapped up with a wave of the man's hand. Well, that and attending to a handful of fringe cases.

    He put that out of his mind, instead throwing himself into documentation of the information in Apeiron's files, set for secure transfer to the main office and a scheduled investigation of the coordinates provided first thing the next day. This was likely to be a complicated process, but it was something that he couldn't let slide.

    The sound of his phone drew his attention just as he finished up the last of the work. There was a brief flash of concern before he registered that it was his usual ringtone, not the one that was triggered by Apeiron's impossible call system,

    "Sanders?" He said, answering the call.

    "I have a response from the Ambassadors." She said.

    "Already?" He asked in a mix of shock and concern.

    "Yes, Sir. I think they were expecting our call." Armstrong frowned. Not impossible when dealing with Accord, but not a good sign either. "They proposed a meeting at eight a.m. tomorrow. I'm still confirming the location for security purposes, but it will likely be one of the locations from our previous meetings."

    "That's good. Thank you Sanders." He said.

    "There's something else Sir." She said, "A message from Accord."

    Armstrong felt his eyebrows raise. "Did you speak with him?" He asked in concern.

    "No, relayed through Othello." She explained. "Apparently he has come into possession of some property he believes to be stolen and wishes to return it to the rightful authorities." Thankfully, Sanders was familiar enough with Accord's behavior to not ask any follow-up questions.

    "Thank you Sanders, let me know when you have confirmation. I will arrange transport in the morning." Early in the morning, given the traffic into Boston.

    "Yes Sir." She replied before ending the call.

    Armstrong set his phone down and let out a breath. Accord knew, or at least had an inclination of what was happening. Not completely unreasonable, given the relocation of the hostages and the members of the Elite that had functioned as intermediaries. Based on his message he was also at least trying to address Apeiron's concerns. Probably not enough to completely address the problems the theft had caused, though the recovery of the hairpin would go a long way to help dismantle some of the more restrictive policies that had held over from the initial assessments.

    Beyond that, he didn't know. He doubted this was a decision made purely out of fear, particularly with the perplexing details of what Accord had recovered from Brockton Bay. This felt different from Accord's usual plans, but Accord's usual plans had been anything by usual lately. He had blamed that on the departure of Blasto, but perhaps there was more to it than that.

    Possibly, but he doubted he would be able to learn what it was tonight. He'd had perhaps the longest day of his life since the Boston Games and would need his sleep if he was going to speak with Accord in person tomorrow. He'd need to be careful with how he spent his remaining time.

    A slight smile found its way to his face. If he had to be careful with his time, then he knew how he wanted to spend it. He picked up his phone and pulled up Weld's number. At the same time he flicked open the lighter causing an image of a metal boy sitting in the Brockton Bay PRT headquarters to jump out at him. Weld quickly checked his own phone, then smiled and answered the call.

    "Hello Director Armstrong." He said cheerfully.

    "Good afternoon, Weld." He said, though it was practically evening. "I just received the most interesting report about your activities today."

    In the flames Weld froze, then nodded. "Yes, Director." He said with a smile. "Most of it is being assessed by the chief office, but I'd be happy to share what I can."

    "I look forward to hearing about it." He said, leaning back in his chair as Weld quickly moved the call to a more private location. "We have quite a lot to catch up on."
     
    Last edited:
  • New
  • Threadmarks
    • Hell yeah, back to the main timeline! Time to find out what goodies are in today's chapter.

    Edit: I love Armstrong so much. His chapters are so refreshing compared to the swamp of paranoia that is many other non-forge characters. The explanation for his usage of the flame was heartwarming, if you'll pardon the pun. Being able to use it so much because he's in tune with the ideals of Home and Hearth is perfect.
     
    Last edited:
    Slentoru said:
    You know, sometimes I like to think about what would Apeiron do in other settings, and quite often the problem rises up: Apeiron a tad too strong for a lot of the worlds. Of course, sometimes it fun to drop unstoppable force in a small pond and watch everything blow up in a matter of seconds, but that does not scratch that slow exploration and escalation itch, and so the limitations come in.

    One of the more interesting limits, in my opinion, is making it so Joe can act upon the world only through proxies, something akin to a god sending heroes on a quest. Like he is stuck in the mindscape and can walk around the world and see stuff, but can't do anything except only talk to one person at a time and give out artefacts he made in the Workshop. Kind of makes it so Joe either forced to just do nothing about problems he encounters in new world, or have to actually interact with local characters, make decisions on whom to trust with information and power he can give, and play a bit of the kingmaker. Although a lot of times I bet Joe would just end up with the repeat of Taylor situation. "Why did I think that giving a teenager a magical weapon was a good idea?"

    So, does anyone have any setting upon which the influence of the disembodied "God of Progress" might make an interesting tale? For example, how do you think all will flow if Piltover, Arcane's interpretation in particular, was haunted by our dear boundless eldritch average Joe?
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    So basicly what Alma is doing in BCF?
    Onyxreaper said:
    You know what seeing that Joe can order stuff from other Dimensions
    What are the chances we see a accurate representation of a Jurassic Park created by the Duplicates
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Honestly, would LOVE that. Rexy is awsome.

    emontizzle said:
    As if Joe would be so careless as to make the replica of such a theme park accurate to the source material, the jeeps would be much more durable and somehow tethered to the tracks to prevent a rogue T-Rex from pushing it into an enclosure, and the fencing would be far more reliable than to be taken out by a mere hurricane, no matter its category. The place would be entirely safe.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    To be fair, the only reason the system even failed in the first place was because Ned sabotaged the entire thing, in both book AND movie.
     
    Last edited:
    Uh oh, Accord. Apeiron Senpai has finally noticed you, but not in the way you were hoping 😨

    At least it seems like he was preparing for this to the correct degree, though this only further ramps up my anticipation for their first meeting, especially since it seems like it will take place after the S9 encounter!
     
    Last edited:
    I'm greatly enjoying the interludes as a chance to see Apeiron from different external perspectives. Getting to follow his actions from the regular mortals who have the unfortunate luck to be interacting with him post Spark.

    I particularly loved the way the ENE PRT will be reaping what they sowed. And the glimpse at how Joe will act in future to nudge the setting away from its grimdark (or grimderp, YMMV) default.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top