Fill-in Issue #2: PREVAIL!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Horizon, City of Leviathan's Rest – Praça do Orixá – December 25, 2067
You are Gabriel Kwan, better known as the hero, Wolong.
You're currently surrounded by a display of opulence that has you feeling distinctly out of place. Your team feels it as well. Gentleman James is taking care to be extra polite and has been double-checking his appearance in every reflective surface he passes. Miss Naught is almost manically cheerful, and Palisade is tense as if she expects an attack at any time. Only Dreamcatcher seems at ease, but that might be because he's grabbing every tray of hors'devours he can reach.
"Foodsh 'ood!" he says through a mouthful of salmon. Miss Naught pinches his mouth shut until he swallows. "Man, these stuffed-shirts really know how to throw a party! Look at this place!"
You had to concede that Dreamcatcher had a point. You were in the Praça do Orixá, the open air plaza that opened to the Ọsanyìn headquarters on one side and the first checkpoint to enter Jacob's Ladder on the other. The weather, for once, was cool and dry, though many Horizon natives like Gentleman James found it chilly. The Ọsanyìn staff had gone all out on the decorations and entertainment—not a single surface was free from garlands, flowers, depictions of Ọsanyìn as Santa clause, and all other kinds of seasonal decorations. The massive screens on the sides of every building played selections from different holiday movies, and food and drink flowed freely while sounds of live music drifted on the air.
However, the centerpiece of the event was the massive Grand Fir pine tree in the middle of the square. It was over two-hundred feet tall and stood proud under the thousands upon thousands of ornaments and lights on it. The festivities today would conclude with a grand lighting ceremony that you're certain will be a sight. It was nearly a regret that you would have to miss it to make it back to the Apiary in time for Justice Unlimited's celebrations.
Nearly.
It was quite a sight, but your mind was elsewhere. After Menagerie Witch's birthday party, Lady Leizi had pulled you aside and had you fully read into Project Prometheus. It was . . . staggering. Valiant Silver was truly the mind of your generation, and you cursed the fact that stopping the Movement cost her life.
Project Prometheus was elegant, engaging, and—if you were being honest—a little fun. With your power, you easily could see how different metahumans could combine and synergize—and it was even entertaining when you were wrong. How Novalight, Crimson Soprano, Steadfast, and Soldier X created a sentient black hole was still something you puzzled over in your spare time.
Speaking of which, there was something about [Enhanced Strength] and [Clairvoyance] that fit together. It was missing something, but it nearly felt familiar . . .
You drift through the plaza, and eventually your team starts to loosen up. You're glad to see it. It had been some time since you all had been able to be together at the same time. Monarch had been keeping her head down following the explosive battle between Black Swan and Scarlet Maturity, earning you all a rare reprieve.
As you walk, Gentleman James grabs a glass of champagne and asks, "So where is our main event going to be?"
"In the center of the Praça do Orixá, beneath the great tree," you answer, "I believe you can see them setting up the stage now."
"Dang, I guess some poor suckers have to work on Christmas," Miss Naught says, "And all dressed up like penguins? Couldn't be me."
"Wolong," Palisade says, "What's this all about? Why did they invite us?"
"I confess, I don't know," you say, "Some announcement of some sort. If I had to venture a guess, with the recent revelations about Powers, there are some elements of the Foot and Elysium Station that feel they have no protectors. Likely, today is about projecting strength as much as anything."
"I don't like it," Palisade says, "It feels off."
"Booo! Grinch!" Miss Naught sticks out her tongue.
"I'm serious," Palisade says, "Moon River's been airing Dominion's dirty laundry for over a week, but they haven't said anything? Not even a denial? Something is brewing."
You hum in agreement. That's your read on the situation as well.
You continue wandering and mingling—and even pose for a few pictures—and eventually a stage is erected in the center of the plaza. An announcement rings across the various displays, asking guests to take their seats for the main ceremony.
New Dawn has been granted VIP seating in the front row. As you walk towards it, you hear a young girl's voice over the noise of the crowd.
". . . me go! Get off of me!"
"Unhand her!"
"Mr. Oliviera was clear in his request. The young Miss Oliviera has a place of honor on the stage. She is to join him. Alone. No metahumans."
You see several large men in black suits surrounding a teenage girl in a smart blouse and winter jacket. One of the men has a hand on her arm and is attempting to pull her away, only to be blocked by a woman in a red and yellow tabard. She wears a musketeer's hat with a red plume and a black mask over her eyes.
"I'm afraid that the terms of my contract do not allow me to let Ms. Oliviera out of my sight, even for a moment. Especially in light of . . . recent ongoings. Kindly let her go."
Her voice is even and controlled, but you don't miss how one hand drifts to the sheathed saber on her hip.
Nor do the men in suits. "Miss, if you plan to make a scene, I can assure you that will be a decision you will deeply regret."
"Oh? Don't threaten me with a good time."
"I like her, boss. And I don't like the looks of this," Miss Naught whispers in your ear, "And I like apes in suits even less. Should I . . .?
You tilt your head to Gentleman James. He nods and walks towards the group.
"Aww, I never get to do nothin'!"
As Miss Naught whines, Gentleman James throws on a thousand-watt smile and approaches the woman with open arms.
"Meu anjo! There you are! I leave for one second and I find you in another man's arms? My poor heart—I shall die!"
Everyone whips their heads toward Gentleman James, who walks up to the man holding the teenager and elbows jocularly in the ribs. He leans over and speaks in a stage whisper while pointing to the swordswoman.
"I met querida here at the facilities and fell in love at once. Who could resist a woman who can handle a sword? Alas, she didn't feel the same! Wouldn't give me the time of day. Wouldn't even believe that I am Gentleman James of New Dawn! As if anyone else could be this handsome!"
He gestures to the rest of you as you arrive, forming a semi-circle around the group.
"So of course, I rushed off to grab my friends here. Only to find her here with another man!" He clutches his heart. As he brings his arms up, he "accidently" breaks the man's grip on the girl's arm. "Why meu anjo? Why is love so cruel?"
The girl rushes into the swordswoman's arms, who quickly pulls her back. The men go to follow her, but Palisade and Dreamcatcher are in the way. The lead man frowns and moves to push his way through, only for another man to hold him back.
"You're Wolong, correct?" he says to you, "Of New Dawn? We're with the personal security division of Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries. We're to bring Ms. Oliviera to her father."
"Leave me alone!" the girl whose face looks familiar says, "I don't want to sit next to him. I don't want to see him! I didn't want to come out today!"
"She's hysterical," the suit says to you, "Surely New Dawn will help return a girl to her father?"
Said girl looks as terrified at that idea as Dreamcatcher was at the sight of Menagerie Witch's new tarantula.
"I believe it is you who is upsetting her," you say with a pleasant smile on your face, "It may be best if you leave. We'll look after her and escort her to where she needs to go once she's calmed down. I promise it on New Dawn's good name. Is that acceptable?"
A flicker of purple light flares across Palisade's body to emphasize the point.
The first suit looks like he might protest, but the one speaking grabs him and pulls him away. "Very well. I'll personally make sure Mr. Oliviera hears about how helpful New Dawn has been."
With that, they leave as one. Miss Naught sticks her tongue out at their backs.
You turn to the two women. "Are you alright, Miss . . .?"
The swordswoman bows. "You may call me Belle Sabreuse. And this is my charge, Ms. Yara Oliviera. It is an honor to have the illustrious New Dawn come to our aid."
Yara doesn't say anything, but hides behind Belle Sabreuse like a child hiding behind her mother's skirt.
Belle Sabreuse places a gentle hand overtop Yara's and gives a sad smile. "Please excuse her. She's been through quite a lot these last few months."
"No offense taken," you say immediately, "And that offer was genuine if you would like us to escort you."
Belle Sabreuse gives Yara a questioning look, which Yara responds to by leaning over and whispering in her ear. You only catch fragments of their words.
". . . sure . . . real?"
"Too smart . . . fake it for this long."
Yara finally nods and acquiesces to your presence. You continue your journey to the center of the plaza, and Belle Sabreuse moves next to you, speaking in a low voice.
"Please, do forgive her. We've . . . not been certain who to trust lately."
Your brows go up at that, but you keep your tone light.
". . . New Dawn is always listening if you need help."
Belle Sabreuse looks around before speaking again, her words coming fast. "There have been a number of abduction attempts. They've been increasing in frequency as of late. Yara's assailants . . . they're not normal."
You keep a mask of slightly-bored amusement on your face as you look at a display of a life-size of a nutcracker soldier.
"How so?"
"They're . . . simple," Belle Sabreuse says, "They can manage complex tasks, but speaking? Improvising due to an unexpected attack? Impossible. The veneer of humanity peels away. It's the only reason they haven't taken her yet."
She lets out a breath, but she quickly inhales and continues speaking as if a great burden was coming off her chest.
"They're getting smarter. The last batch nearly passed for human. And . . . I recognized one of them. I know I rammed him through the heart with my sword during a previous attempt. So how did he return? I'm holding, but just barely. If metahumans get involved . . ."
"I understand. New Dawn will do what we can. And I have a direct connection with Justice Unlimited. I know Lady Leizi will have an interest in the safety of the younger sister of Uiara."
Belle Sabreuse gives a relieved smile. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I know how difficult it must be to approach your archrivals for help."
You give a mysterious smile. "Not as difficult as you might think."
Belle Sabreuse reels back. "Truly? Times must be changing them."
"Indeed."
You, the rest of New Dawn, and Belle Sabreuse and Yara all sit in a line in the front row. There was some minor scuffling with an usher about where Yara should sit, but the sight of six metahumans all united in purpose quickly put any protests to rest. As you move toward your assigned block of seats, you find a tall, blonde woman in a red dress and opera gloves sitting in your row.
"Excuse me, miss," you say as politely as possible so as to not scare her. Some people react badly to perceived hostility from metahumans. "I believe this is our assigned row of seats."
The woman gives you an intense look that you find off putting. But then she looks at her pass, laughs, and gives you a beatific smile. She apologies for her mistake and asks you to forgive her.
"Of course," you say, "No harm done."
She asks if, by chance, you are Wolong of New Dawn? She doesn't know too many people who dress in the way you do.
"I am. And this is a team of our members with us as well as some new friends."
Wonderful! She is such a fan. She says this may be an odd request, but could she shake your hand?
You frown. That is an odd request. But before you can protest, she takes off a glove and takes your hand in hers. She then goes down the row and shakes hands with Gentleman James, Miss Naught, Palisade, and Dreamcatcher. She is very enthusiastic, sometimes even grabbing a forearm or shoulder. She goes for Yara, but she hides behind Belle Sabreuse.
"Pardon us," the masked musketeer says, "We are not with New Dawn and not used to the attention."
The woman says it's alright but goes for the handshake again anyway. Yara acts more frightened and you see Belle Sabreuse's hand drifting to her waist again. You intervene—the whole situation is now deeply concerning—but the woman scowls and disappears.
You blink. What were you doing again?
You shake your head and take your seat with Palisade to your left and Yara to your right, with Belle Sabreuse to her right. As you sit down and wait for the ceremony to begin, Yara nervously twists her hair while glancing at you from the corner of her eye. You give her some time, but eventually you realize that you'll need to start the conversation.
"Is something the matter, Ms. Oliviera?"
She flinches before visibly steeling herself. "J-just call me Yara, please. And, um, you knew her, right? My sister?"
You nod. "Uiara? Of course. I daresay there isn't anyone in the metahuman community of Horizon who didn't at least know of her."
"W-what was she like?"
You pause and think. "Uiara . . . was one of the most genuinely heroic people I've had the fortune to meet. She was always the first to put herself in danger for others, and the last to retreat."
You stroke your beard in thought. "Hmm, how to say this? Uiara was . . . direct. There was never any doubt she said what she meant and meant what she said. She had this uncanny knack of finding the good in people and willing it to the surface. It was she who convinced Abarimon to turn himself in, and I know she kept up regular correspondence with him while he was in Wonderland. There are a thousand stories like that about her; there was a reason the whole world came running when she called for the heroes of Horizon to resist the Looming God."
"Wow," Yara breathes with bright eyes, "Ummm, okay, uh. . . did she ever talk about me?"
You feel something in the tone of her voice tug at your heartstrings. You choose your words carefully. "I'm afraid I am the wrong person to ask. Despite your sister's reputation, things were always tense between Justice Unlimited and New Dawn. To my deep regret, I never had much chance to speak with her outside a professional capacity."
"O-oh," Yara says, looking down.
"But," you add, "If anyone would know, it would be Lady Leizi. I'll make sure to ask her personally the next time I see her."
"Oh! Thank you."
Yara's expression perks back up, and Belle Sabreuse gives you a grateful look over Yara's shoulder. You find yourself curious about the Ọsanyìn heiress, but your chance to further engage her in conversation is spoiled by the emcee.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and good citizens of the City of Leviathan's Rest, thank you for joining Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries for a special Christmas celebration!" a voice booms. On stage, a tall, bronze man with immaculately styled hair walks forward to a podium. Behind him is a row of mostly empty chairs with three people sitting on the far right end.
"I am Juan Bonfim, and I will be your master of ceremonies this evening!"
You have to stop yourself from flinching. The man is loud.
"Now, let's hear it for the generous folks at Ọsanyìn and their generous portions of shrimp cocktail! Ha!"
He draws a few chuckles from the audience.
"Without further ado, all my to introduce our first speaker. It is my deep and true honor to introduce a man who needs no introduction. The son of Ọsanyìn himself, a member of the board of this great company, and a true child of Horizon, please give a warm welcome to Mr. Jair Oliviera!"
Applause fills the air, which you politely join, but you don't miss Yara shrinking in her seat like she wants to disappear.
From the rightmost chair rises a tall, broad man with dark skin and short, curly hair. He wears a suit sharp enough to draw blood, with every detail of his appearance so neat and precise it was like a painting. However, what truly stuck out to you was his eyes. They were dark brown, but with a fire burning in them. It was as if he saw the world both for what it was and for what he desired it to be.
A man to be wary around for sure.
"Thank you," he says to Juan Bonfim with a curt nod, as he approaches a podium, "And thank you to everyone who has joined us today. My father, the man who was Ọsanyìn, built this city for the sake of an ideal. An ideal that the future was not some distant goal just out of reach, but something that we could achieve if we just reached hard enough for it. He spent his life doing just that, but my father died before he saw his dream realized. And what followed in the wake of his passing?"
Jair slams the podium.
"Chaos. Anarchy. Disorder. His company left leaderless and rudderless. Opportunists draining the prosperity of Horizon. Metahuman warlords carving up his city piece by piece into fiefdoms for them to rule."
He leans over and fixes the audience with a stare that somehow felt unique to each person. Then, to your surprise, Jair bows his head and holds the position.
"You deserved better. You all deserved better. We have failed you, and from the bottom of my heart, I apologize."
He raises his head and continues.
"There is not a person here who has not felt the ravages of the so-called 'Movement'. Horizon is in disarray, failed by its former protectors."
"Aww, crapbaskets. Here we go," Miss Naught mutters.
"New Dawn promised to keep the most vile criminals this world has known safely behind bars," Jair declares, "And now, those same monsters are free to roam the streets. There were no precautions, no backup plans, just the arrogant belief that their 'heroes' would never die."
He looks at you directly.
"I mean no disrespect to brave men and women who now hold the line against impossible odds. You can hardly be blamed for Novalight's failure."
You keep a neutral expression but give a slight nod back. Is this why you were invited here? You have an inkling in your mind where this was going, and it did not bode well.
"But it is not just New Dawn. You have been failed by your other protectors in deeper, more direct ways. The recent revelations as to the true nature of Scarlet Maturity and this Faust give rise to questions of if Powers truly has your best interests at heart."
He gestures to a tall woman with long, raven hair and a red blazer, sitting behind him. "Which is why I invite Gertrude von Goethe, acting CEO of Dominion Security Concerns, to join me."
The woman rises, and gracefully walks next to Jair, who moves aside and lets her take the podium. She's wearing a pair of dark, horned rim glasses that she readjusts before speaking.
"Thank you, Jair," she says, "And yes, I am Gertrude von Goethe, the acting CEO of Dominion Security Concerns. 'Acting' because this morning, effectively immediately, Christopher Mason—'Faust'—has tendered his resignation."
There is a susurration of whispers around you. The sinking feeling in your stomach grows worse.
"After a thorough investigation and review, Dominion Security Concerns had determined that Faust had breached his duty of care to the company and engaged in multiple unauthorized acts that have harmed our good name and—more importantly—harmed the people we serve. We are working tirelessly to see if his 'contracts' can be rendered void and compensating all of his victims until then."
She readjusts her glasses again.
"Likewise, Scarlet Maturity has been relieved of his leadership role in Powers and indefinitely suspended. He is cooperative with our requests."
If your eyebrows go any high, they're going to fly off your head. You feel your power whirling behind your eyes, this is the only move to make. The proof was too irrefutable.
Goethe goes on. "I swear to you, the citizens of Horizon, that Dominion Security Concerns and Powers will work tirelessly to restore the faith that you have lost in us. But words are cheap. Action is expensive. Which is why, I'm pleased to announce a new, joint-venture between Dominion Security Concerns and Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries!"
If the noise before was loud, it is now deafening. Your mind is awhirl. It's a new metahuman team. Ọsanyìn largely stayed out of the metahuman race—everyone else had too much of a head start. Ọsanyìn was left leaderless after their namesake's death. It's a match made in heaven, Ọsanyìn gets the foot in the metahuman market they've always craved, and Dominion gets to launder their reputation.
However, even with your power, you're not prepared for what comes next.
"Thank you, Gertrude," Jair says, "But our new project was grander in scope than either of our corporations could handle on their own. It calls for a special kind of expertise. Which is why it is my pleasure to introduce our next speaker, former Brigadier General in the United States Army and current CEO of Allied Global Logistics: General Oliver Bringham."
The final person sitting on stage stands up and comes forward. He's a powerfully built, no-nonsense man with a haircut you could set a watch to. Jair and Goethe move, and he approaches the podium. He's noticeably more stiff than the other speakers, and his choice of words is similarly terse.
"We lost too many good soldiers when the Leviathan moved. Global Justice can no longer secure the front. AGL was approached by Ọsanyìn and asked to participate in this initiative. We agreed, as it was the best way to protect the people who depend on us."
"Thank you, General," Jair says, smoothly stepping back in, "Which leads to the actual announcement. I'm certain we have left you in enough suspense. I am proud to announce that the expertise of Global Justice, the manpower of Powers, and the resources and sterling ethical standards of Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries have come together to form a new heroic organization for you, the people. Today, I announce that no longer will terror live on our doorsteps. Today, I announce that no longer will criminals freely walk the streets."
Jair leans forward, the fire in his eyes burning bright. "Today, I announce Crusade!"
Every screen in the plaza changes to show a logo of a white sword pointed downward over a blue Jerusalem Cross.
"A team of metahumans founded on accountability, service, and, of course, justice. A new bred of hero for a new age."
You can hear Palisade grinding her teeth at that one. The dig at New Dawn was unmistakable.
"Allow me to introduce the members of our new team." As Jair spoke, each member arrived from off stage and took a seat behind him. Every person wore a variation of their old costume, now with a blue and white color scheme and the symbol of Crusade on their arm.
"Formerly of Global Justice, Plasticity! Perspective! And newly recovered from his wounds suffered in defense of Horizon in the Quarantine Zone, Joules!"
"That bastard wasn't injured in the QZ!" Palisade hisses, "He ran away! I'm amazed he has the gall to show his face in public again!"
"I don't believe he has shame," Gentleman James murmurs back.
Sure enough, Joules is mugging to the crowd and even attempts to take the podium before Perspective kicks out the back of his knees and Plasticity drags him to his seat.
"Next, from Powers: Ronin, The Brass Shield, new member Été—"
Été arrives looking terrible. There are dark circles around her eyes, she's noticeably lost weight, and her presence is diminished somehow. She keeps her head down, makes eye contact with no one, and quickly takes her seats. You don't miss the black armband she wears, the only person on stage to do so.
But the next name you hear drives that idle observation from your mind, along with everything else.
"—and Anansi!"
Sunny walks on stage, her head held low like she's walking to her death. She looks up for a second and accidently makes eye contact with you, before putting her head down again and walking faster. Her eyes are wild, and you can see her heavy breathing. You can only see her face for just a second— you only get a single point of data in a great chart—but it's enough.
You've known Sunny since she was a girl. Dick brought her specifically to you, after he realized what her power was. Deadman knew how corporations and organizations would use up an Algernon-type until there was nothing left but an empty shell. He didn't want that life for his little sister. Novalight had gnashed her teeth and protested, but here you held firm. Sunny was allowed to develop her specialization safely and only used her power when absolutely necessary.
She was a bright, happy girl who became a bright, confident young woman. She matched her name perfectly. She was the voice in the ear of every metahuman in New Dawn, friendly rivals and gaming partners with Moon River, and the only person keeping her brother tethered to reality.
But after the Movement, she disappeared off the face of the Earth.
There's shame on her face, but there's something else too. Confusion. Longing. Sunny wants to be sitting with all of you. Sunny doesn't understand why she ever left New Dawn.
Her defection made no sense, as did her total lack of communication afterward. She's ashamed of her actions she doesn't understand, and that shame is making it impossible for her to talk to you. It's making it impossible for her to ask for help. Even now, she has to try to justify her actions to herself or it means she's losing her mind. But why did she leave? Not even she knows.
You exhale as you let go of your power. Palisade looks over at you—she can tell what you were doing. You tap her leg once to indicate you'll explain later. But the revelation leaves you shaken: Sunny is in trouble.
But there's no more time to think about that right then. Jair continues.
"You might see many familiar faces here on the stage. But that is not what you were promised. You were promised change. Something new. And so you shall receive it." He gestures upwards, toward Jacob's Ladder. "High above our planet, there exists a world of tomorrow. A world that should mirror our own, but instead remains an unreachable dream. The people of Elysium Station live in comfort and security, protected by the Horae Guard."
He drops his hand.
"But your cries of suffering have reached their ears. The people above the world can longer remain ignorant of their fellow humanity's pain. I now introduce three new members of Crusade, hand-selected from the Horae Guard!"
You . . . you weren't sure that Horae Guard was actually real. Rumors abound of an elite organization of metahumans, whose sole purpose was to protect the Elysium Station. The story was that powerful metahumans would disappear into the night, promised a place in Elysium if they would devote their life to protecting the station. They were never heard or seen again—they could never return to Earth—but why would they? It was paradise. Supposedly it was the Horae Guard who drove back The Defiance Unit during their assault.
To have their existence confirmed in a manner like this . . . Ọsanyìn was truly sparing no expense. Jair was determined to make a move. Determine to retake control of Horizon.
"First, Seraph!" Jair shouts.
A figure shining so brightly that you're unable to directly look at her arrives on the stage. The glare lessens fractionally, and you can just make out a blindfolded woman dressed in a toga with giant, angelic wings extending from her back.
"Greetings," you hear a voice in your mind say. Seraph smiles and then takes a seat next to Été who puts a hand over her eyes to block the glare.
"Next, the Sunlight Knight!"
Nothing happens for a moment until you hear a loud whistling, like a mortar shell. Then you see him, a figure streaking from the sky like a comet. Sunlight Knight lands on stage on top of a horse made of fiery light, and then dismounts and dismisses his steed. He raises a fist to rapturous cheers from the crowd, and then takes a seat.
"He certainly knows how to make an entrance," Jair says, "Last, but not least, the final member from the Horae guard. A native of Elysium, born and raised on the station, he has left paradise in pursuit of higher ideals. It is my honor to introduce: White Hawk."
Compared to the bombastic lightshow of his cohorts, White Hawk's descent to the stage is subdued. He wears a visor with a beak-like mask and a cape shaped like wings over his shoulders. His wavy, blonde hair falls to his just past his neck, while his exposed, muscular arms drop to his side. Unlike the other heroes, he moves to take the podium. It's apparently a scripted maneuver, as Jair has already made space for him.
"Hello," he says in a pleasant baritone, "And thank you to Mr. Jair Oliviera for that warm welcome."
He gives a gentle smile that you can imagine will be played ad nauseam in the coming days.
"But I'm not sure if I agree with the distinction between Elysium and Earth. It feels . . . a little overwrought?" He gives a self-deprecating laugh. "We're all just people. I was just fortunate to grow up with a better view than most."
He draws a polite chuckle at that.
"As a child, I used to gaze down on Earth and dream about what the surface was like. It seemed so magical to me, the place where all life started. It was only seven years ago, when Elysium was attacked by the vile Defiance Unit, that I understood that not all places were as fortunate as Elysium. Not everyone had the safety and security I had so taken for granted. On that day, I swore I would return to the Earth and not rest until every person could walk without fear. And so, that is what this Crusade shall be for."
Oh no. You realize what's happening a second too late. They need to draw attention from the failure of Powers. They need to draw attention elsewhere—fight a battle where their clientele can watch and be reassured that someone is "doing something". Somewhere that won't actually affect the people they serve—
"Which is why, today I make this vow," White Hawk leans forward, over the podium and staring directly into a camera, "Monarch? You and your so-called lieutenants are living on borrowed time. Crusade is coming for you. And we will not rest until you are utterly defeated."
All out war. You feel lightheaded as applause and roars of approval explode around you. AGL, Dominion, and Ọsanyìn have combined their resources to create a metahuman team to wage war in your backyard. Nevermind your careful plans to limit collateral damage. Nevermind your deal with Lady Leizi. There was no more time. To protect the Uni District, you needed a scalpel. They have created a sledgehammer.
There would be blood in New Dawn's territory, currently being cheered on by those who would never suffer the consequences. Was this why they invited you? For your tacit endorsement of this madness?
The applause takes several minutes to die down. As he waits, White Hawk stands with the same slight smile on his handsome face. You narrow your eyes. He either doesn't understand the carnage he's about to unleash . . . or he doesn't care.
Finally, the noise ends and White Hawk can speak again.
"Thank you. Thank you all, truly. But for Crusade to succeed, we need a strong leader," he says, "And not myself. I am too inexperienced, too unfamiliar with the world down here. No. We need someone who has fought and spilled blood in defense of Horizon. Who knows the horrors of the Movement and has resolved to never let them come to pass again."
He steps aside as a hydraulic lift raises someone onto the stage behind him. It's a person in armor.
Armor that is all too familiar. A white bodysuit, overwhich lay countless interlocking plates of armor. A helmet with a black visor over the eyes. A double crest on the forehead, and thicker armor across the back and shoulders. The amor plates have been planted blue with red highlights, and the word "PREVAIL" has been emblazoned down the side of one arm.
As the figure walks to the podium, White Hawk announces, "Please meet the leader of Crusade, the inheritor of the will of Global Justice and Horizon as a whole, Valiant Red, White, and Blue!"
"That name is terrible," you breathe at the walking insult in front of you. You know that armor. You know that title.
All of it stolen.
Valiant Red, White, and Blue takes the podium and removes his helmet, revealing a face you know. It's Stockpile, the young Algernon-type metahuman that Justiciar was protecting. He sets his helmet down next to him, a manic light in his eyes.
"Hello," he says. He sounds older. He looks older. "My name is Silvio Serra Fernandes, and I was once known as Stockpile. But that young boy died along with many—too many—good souls during the Movement."
He surveyed the audience.
"Earlier, when Mr. Jair Oliviera discussed how Horizon was failed by its protectors, there was one name noticeably omitted. This is not to absolve them of the same condemnation. No, quite the opposite. There is no group more responsible for suffering in this city than Justice Unlimited."
He practically spits the name.
"The armor I wear was recovered from Valiant Silver," he says, examining his hand, "Inside of it, I found a terrible truth. This armor is a psionic siphon, designed to draw raw psychic energy from elsewhere to empower the user."
He squeezes his fist.
"And Valiant Silver found a practically unending source of power, one many thought long dead. Yes, Valiant Silver stole her power directly from the Leviathan itself."
Someone gasps in horror. Your eyebrows go up. Is it possible . . .?
No, you decide immediately. It isn't. It doesn't make any sense. But the uneasy feeling goes on as Valiant Red, White, and Blue continues, now nearly ranting.
"The Movement was her doing. She delved too greedily and too deeply into the Leviathan, disturbing it from its slumber, awakening it and nearly killing us all! Good people died in her bid for power! SLAYERS, New Dawn, the Captain herself! Too many sacrificed at the altar of one woman's ego!"
"Wait, that doesn't seem right though?"
A voice cuts through the speech. To your surprise, it's coming from next to you. Dreamcatcher is standing with one hand raised, using the other to continue eating a sandwich of some sort.
"I was at the Movement—I was fighting on a dragon, it was super rad—and I don't think I saw any of you there?" he says pointing to the metahumans on stage, "The Leviathan only stopped moving after VS showed up. She had some gadget that put it back to sleep. I'm pretty sure she didn't cause it, she, uh, opposite-caused it?"
"Stopped it," Palisade hisses.
"Oh, right, duh. Yeah, she stopped it! You sure you're just not mistaken about the armor, lil' guy?"
You can see Valiant Red, White, and Blue clenching his jaw, but Dreamcatcher's words have found purchase with the audience who quietly whisper.
"Yes," you agree, standing up, "Valiant Silver very clearly stopped the Movement. Silvio–" you refuse to call him by his stolen moniker, "Is it possible you just misunderstood the purpose of her armor? It's by all accounts the masterwork of an unparalleled mind."
"I'm certain," he says. There's a gleam of victory in his eye and you realize you've walked into a trap, "But you don't need to take my word for it. Valiant Silver's crimes would have gone undetected, but for a warning sent directly to Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries."
Across every screen on the plaza, a face appears. A face known to everyone in Horizon: it's Uiara. Only, she isn't wearing her mask. She looks exhausted, but determined, a familiar expression you've seen on her countless times. The video starts playing.
Jair . . . Dad, although I'm certain you don't deserve that title. It's been over ten years since we last spoke, and if I have my way it will be another ten. But this goes beyond us both. Nora . . . Valiant Silver . . . my love isn't in her right mind. I think . . . I think it's what happened to Avô. She's forgetting things, acting wild, and won't stop using her power. She's experimenting on things she shouldn't be. She's experimenting on the Leviathan.
I can't . . . I can't stop her. I can't get anyone else to listen to me either. They don't know her the way I do. They can't see how far gone she is. She's planning something tomorrow, some kind of grand project. I'm going to do what I can to stop her, but if I fail then you need to protect the rest of the city. You're a worthless father and a terrible human being, but, if you have an ounce of goodness in you, you will heed my warning.
Be ready. I pray this amounts to nothing and I have to spend the next year ignoring your calls again.
"No . . ." Yara cries, holding her hands to her mouth. There's a stunned silence in the audience.
It's fake. You know it has to be fake. They have Sunny, doctoring a video would be trivial—
It's real. Your power turns up nothing. Even the most flawless of forgeries have something wrong with them, some calling card of inaccuracy. Some thread you can pull on and tease out.
But there's nothing.
You push harder. It isn't real. You know it's not real—
Not only is it real, but the Uiara in the video sincerely believes every word she is saying. You feel a spike of agony in your temples as you overextend your power. Distantly you're aware of Yara desperately whispering to Belle Sabreuse.
". . . has to be one of them. It has to be. It has to!"
"No. I'm sorry, dear heart. But we both know they can't fake that level of emotion."
"Well?" Valiant Red, White, and Blue demands, "Anything to say, Wolong? Have you found anything wrong with the last message of a true hero?
". . . no," you're forced to admit after a long pause.
He gives a cold smile. "The Movement was Justice Unlimited's doing. And they haven't stopped. Word has reached our ears of a top secret 'Project Prometheus' that continues the madness started by Valiant Silver."
You carefully disguise your surprise with a wince of pain. It's not difficult.
"We demand that Justice Unlimited open their doors and submit themselves to a full audit of all of their secret projects! The citizens of Horizon will not bear another foolhardy attempt to tame the Looming God! Justice Unlimited will face punishment for their crimes, or we will go forward and drag their sins into the light!"
The crowd roars and you swear bitterly about how thoroughly you were outplayed. Your own power used to validate their accusations. Foolish. Foolish. He doesn't understand he's destroying the last hope for true heroism in the city!
Then, as if she heard your thoughts, a sonic boom splits the sky.
Everyone looks up, as Black Swan descends from the heavens, her mast fully opaque. Suddenly, the topic of conversation switches.
"It's the woman who defeated Scarlet Maturity."
"She can fly at the speed of light, right? Was that a sonic boom?!"
"Justice Unlimited? Why's she here?"
There's a susurration of anticipation that falls to silence as Black Swan simply hangs in the air, slightly higher than the stage but above the audience.
Then, she speaks.
"It doesn't belong to you."
Her words seem to reverberate in the air. You remember Black Swan as a bubbly, young girl. Here floats a powerful, young hero.
"What was that?" Valiant Red, White, and Blue says, "If you're here to intimidate us or threaten these innocent people—"
"The armor doesn't belong to you. You stole it. Like you stole the name."
Black Swan doesn't raise her voice. She doesn't make a face. Just speaks calmly and levelly as if she was discussing the weather.
"Black Swan, is it?" White Hawk says, stepping in, "It's a delight to meet you, although I wish they were under less alarming circumstances. Perhaps we can have this discussion in private—"
"It won't ever be yours," Black Swan continues, not even acknowledging White Hawk, "And you won't ever find what you're looking for while you wear it. I just thought you should know."
"How dare you?!" Valiant Red, White, and Blue shouts, "You have the arrogance to come here and preach at me while your organization is responsible—"
"I don't think it is," Black Swan says, "I don't believe that video. I can't explain why, but it feels wrong. And even if everything you say is true, then so what? Either way Valiant Silver died stopping the Movement. If it was her fault, then she died fixing her mistake."
"So what?!" Valiant Red, White, and Blue snarls, "The Captain is dead! Steadfast is dead! Global Justice burned for no reason, and that madwoman's work continues. Tell me this: what is Project Prometheus? If you have nothing to hide, then surely you can share the details. What is it?"
Black Swan stares at him and then starts to drift back up into the sky. "I think it's the thing you actually care about. I hope you really meant everything you said about protecting people."
"Where are you going? Come back here!" he screams, "If Justice Unlimited won't stop, then we'll stop you. We'll destroy you utterly! We will come to blows!"
Black Swan actually stops for a moment. With genuine confusion she asks, "Why? We're heroes. Are you bad guys or something?"
Then she takes off into the sky and disappears with another sonic boom. Valiant Red, White, and Blue swears another oath of revenge, but he's shuffled off the stage. Crusade's debut has been thoroughly derailed.
But not, you think through the pain in your head, their plans. You need to rest. You must recover. You'll need every use of your power to plan for the coming storm.
To plan how to weather the Crusade.
You are Black Swan. You return to the Apiary faster than any other living thing in Horizon could, save perhaps one particular orangutan.
As you arrive, you see the shell-shocked faces of the residents of the Apiary as well as the rest of your team. There is a smoking table that lay in ruins from where it was destroyed by lightning. As you land, Rhys approaches.
"Hey . . . good job, Mona. I'm glad you put that twerp in his place."
"I just said the truth," you say, "Where is Lady Leizi?"
"In her room. I think she needs to be alone right now."
"No," you say as you float by, "She doesn't."
You've never been in Lady Leizi's room before, but you know where it is. As you fly in, you see the room is completely dark except for two screens. One shows a news broadcast discussing today's events.
"A shocking Christmas Day announcement! Scarlet Maturity suspended, Dominion under new leadership, Crusade, the Horae Guard confirmed to be real, revelations about the cause of the Movement, and Valiant Red, White, and Blue—"
"Don't call him that."
"You're right! It's a mouthful for sure. The folks online have already dubbed him "Valiant Justice", much catchier I think—"
"Not that either. He stole her name. Black Swan was right."
"Listen, Chichi—"
"Don't call me that."
You turn off the broadcast and turn to the other source of light in the room. The screen on Lady Leizi's desk. She's a mess. Her hair is everywhere, her clothing is askew, a cup of some alcoholic beverage held in her hand. Most damningly, she's not wearing her sunglasses.
You try to ignore the fact that her eyes are red and puffy.
On her screen, an open DM conversation sits open.
The last message was sent forty minutes ago. There is no answer.
You walk over, pull the cup out of her hands, and try to pull her to her feet.
"Come on, Lady Leizi. We still have to do White Elephant. Don't pick Maddie's gift. It's a box filled with clones of Shelob."
She lets out a miserable, raspy laugh. "I don't think I'm in any condition for a party, darling."
"Tough poop. Suck it up. Put on your sunglasses, do whatever you do to make your hair perfect, and let's go. Everyone is scared and they need their leader."
"I don't think anyone needs—"
"I need you!" you shout, "I'm doing a super excellent job of keeping it together, but I'm like, crazy close to freaking out. If you act like this, then everyone will too."
You point to the screen. "We'll figure this out tomorrow. We'll find Moon River and drag her back by her virtual butt or something. But today is Christmas. The best day of the year. Come have fun. They don't get to have this. They don't get to win."
Lady Leizi is looking at you in wonder and, wow, her eyes are, like, so pretty?!
"You . . . you're right, darling. How embarrassing of me." She stands up and runs her hand through her hair, immediately smoothing it over with nary a hair out of place. It's bullshit.
"Give me a moment, and I'll rejoin you. Please give everyone my deepest apologies for my outburst."
"Yeah," you nod, "But there's no fixing Alice's apple cobbler. That kind of got destroyed and they spent hours on that."
"I'll have to make it up to them," Lady Leizi says as she cleans herself up. As you leave, she says, "Oh, and Black Swan?"
"Yeah?"
"I thought you needed more time before you were ready for leadership. It appears I was wrong. I'm sorry for underestimating you."
"Oh, fudge that. I'd rather fight Scarlet Maturity again then do all the paperwork you do!"
That night, Lady Leizi gave a quick apology to Mendicant under the mistletoe, John Henry proved immune to arachnophobia, and Opale and Rhys sang a kickass duet of "Judgement". The air was uneasy, but confidence returned to the Apiary.
A girl without a body watched through a backdoor in the security system she installed. When the evening ended, her avatar blinked once and then disappeared.
I'm sorry, Zixuan.
You're better off without me.
______________________________________________________________________________
-5 to Justice Unlimited's Global REPUTATION!
Alliance with New Dawn Remains unchanged!
All missions with Wonderland Inmates will cost +1 AP and have additional HIT requirements!
Crusade may appear during missions! They're not super friendly!
Every turn, Crusade will continue their PR campaign against Justice Unlimited. A REPUTATION roll will decide any reduction to global REPUTATION if any. This will continue until Justice Unlimited submits to an audit or clears Valiant Silver's name!
You are Gabriel Kwan, better known as the hero, Wolong.
You're currently surrounded by a display of opulence that has you feeling distinctly out of place. Your team feels it as well. Gentleman James is taking care to be extra polite and has been double-checking his appearance in every reflective surface he passes. Miss Naught is almost manically cheerful, and Palisade is tense as if she expects an attack at any time. Only Dreamcatcher seems at ease, but that might be because he's grabbing every tray of hors'devours he can reach.
"Foodsh 'ood!" he says through a mouthful of salmon. Miss Naught pinches his mouth shut until he swallows. "Man, these stuffed-shirts really know how to throw a party! Look at this place!"
You had to concede that Dreamcatcher had a point. You were in the Praça do Orixá, the open air plaza that opened to the Ọsanyìn headquarters on one side and the first checkpoint to enter Jacob's Ladder on the other. The weather, for once, was cool and dry, though many Horizon natives like Gentleman James found it chilly. The Ọsanyìn staff had gone all out on the decorations and entertainment—not a single surface was free from garlands, flowers, depictions of Ọsanyìn as Santa clause, and all other kinds of seasonal decorations. The massive screens on the sides of every building played selections from different holiday movies, and food and drink flowed freely while sounds of live music drifted on the air.
However, the centerpiece of the event was the massive Grand Fir pine tree in the middle of the square. It was over two-hundred feet tall and stood proud under the thousands upon thousands of ornaments and lights on it. The festivities today would conclude with a grand lighting ceremony that you're certain will be a sight. It was nearly a regret that you would have to miss it to make it back to the Apiary in time for Justice Unlimited's celebrations.
Nearly.
It was quite a sight, but your mind was elsewhere. After Menagerie Witch's birthday party, Lady Leizi had pulled you aside and had you fully read into Project Prometheus. It was . . . staggering. Valiant Silver was truly the mind of your generation, and you cursed the fact that stopping the Movement cost her life.
Project Prometheus was elegant, engaging, and—if you were being honest—a little fun. With your power, you easily could see how different metahumans could combine and synergize—and it was even entertaining when you were wrong. How Novalight, Crimson Soprano, Steadfast, and Soldier X created a sentient black hole was still something you puzzled over in your spare time.
Speaking of which, there was something about [Enhanced Strength] and [Clairvoyance] that fit together. It was missing something, but it nearly felt familiar . . .
You drift through the plaza, and eventually your team starts to loosen up. You're glad to see it. It had been some time since you all had been able to be together at the same time. Monarch had been keeping her head down following the explosive battle between Black Swan and Scarlet Maturity, earning you all a rare reprieve.
As you walk, Gentleman James grabs a glass of champagne and asks, "So where is our main event going to be?"
"In the center of the Praça do Orixá, beneath the great tree," you answer, "I believe you can see them setting up the stage now."
"Dang, I guess some poor suckers have to work on Christmas," Miss Naught says, "And all dressed up like penguins? Couldn't be me."
"Wolong," Palisade says, "What's this all about? Why did they invite us?"
"I confess, I don't know," you say, "Some announcement of some sort. If I had to venture a guess, with the recent revelations about Powers, there are some elements of the Foot and Elysium Station that feel they have no protectors. Likely, today is about projecting strength as much as anything."
"I don't like it," Palisade says, "It feels off."
"Booo! Grinch!" Miss Naught sticks out her tongue.
"I'm serious," Palisade says, "Moon River's been airing Dominion's dirty laundry for over a week, but they haven't said anything? Not even a denial? Something is brewing."
You hum in agreement. That's your read on the situation as well.
You continue wandering and mingling—and even pose for a few pictures—and eventually a stage is erected in the center of the plaza. An announcement rings across the various displays, asking guests to take their seats for the main ceremony.
New Dawn has been granted VIP seating in the front row. As you walk towards it, you hear a young girl's voice over the noise of the crowd.
". . . me go! Get off of me!"
"Unhand her!"
"Mr. Oliviera was clear in his request. The young Miss Oliviera has a place of honor on the stage. She is to join him. Alone. No metahumans."
You see several large men in black suits surrounding a teenage girl in a smart blouse and winter jacket. One of the men has a hand on her arm and is attempting to pull her away, only to be blocked by a woman in a red and yellow tabard. She wears a musketeer's hat with a red plume and a black mask over her eyes.
"I'm afraid that the terms of my contract do not allow me to let Ms. Oliviera out of my sight, even for a moment. Especially in light of . . . recent ongoings. Kindly let her go."
Her voice is even and controlled, but you don't miss how one hand drifts to the sheathed saber on her hip.
Nor do the men in suits. "Miss, if you plan to make a scene, I can assure you that will be a decision you will deeply regret."
"Oh? Don't threaten me with a good time."
"I like her, boss. And I don't like the looks of this," Miss Naught whispers in your ear, "And I like apes in suits even less. Should I . . .?
You tilt your head to Gentleman James. He nods and walks towards the group.
"Aww, I never get to do nothin'!"
As Miss Naught whines, Gentleman James throws on a thousand-watt smile and approaches the woman with open arms.
"Meu anjo! There you are! I leave for one second and I find you in another man's arms? My poor heart—I shall die!"
Everyone whips their heads toward Gentleman James, who walks up to the man holding the teenager and elbows jocularly in the ribs. He leans over and speaks in a stage whisper while pointing to the swordswoman.
"I met querida here at the facilities and fell in love at once. Who could resist a woman who can handle a sword? Alas, she didn't feel the same! Wouldn't give me the time of day. Wouldn't even believe that I am Gentleman James of New Dawn! As if anyone else could be this handsome!"
He gestures to the rest of you as you arrive, forming a semi-circle around the group.
"So of course, I rushed off to grab my friends here. Only to find her here with another man!" He clutches his heart. As he brings his arms up, he "accidently" breaks the man's grip on the girl's arm. "Why meu anjo? Why is love so cruel?"
The girl rushes into the swordswoman's arms, who quickly pulls her back. The men go to follow her, but Palisade and Dreamcatcher are in the way. The lead man frowns and moves to push his way through, only for another man to hold him back.
"You're Wolong, correct?" he says to you, "Of New Dawn? We're with the personal security division of Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries. We're to bring Ms. Oliviera to her father."
"Leave me alone!" the girl whose face looks familiar says, "I don't want to sit next to him. I don't want to see him! I didn't want to come out today!"
"She's hysterical," the suit says to you, "Surely New Dawn will help return a girl to her father?"
Said girl looks as terrified at that idea as Dreamcatcher was at the sight of Menagerie Witch's new tarantula.
"I believe it is you who is upsetting her," you say with a pleasant smile on your face, "It may be best if you leave. We'll look after her and escort her to where she needs to go once she's calmed down. I promise it on New Dawn's good name. Is that acceptable?"
A flicker of purple light flares across Palisade's body to emphasize the point.
The first suit looks like he might protest, but the one speaking grabs him and pulls him away. "Very well. I'll personally make sure Mr. Oliviera hears about how helpful New Dawn has been."
With that, they leave as one. Miss Naught sticks her tongue out at their backs.
You turn to the two women. "Are you alright, Miss . . .?"
The swordswoman bows. "You may call me Belle Sabreuse. And this is my charge, Ms. Yara Oliviera. It is an honor to have the illustrious New Dawn come to our aid."
Yara doesn't say anything, but hides behind Belle Sabreuse like a child hiding behind her mother's skirt.
Belle Sabreuse places a gentle hand overtop Yara's and gives a sad smile. "Please excuse her. She's been through quite a lot these last few months."
"No offense taken," you say immediately, "And that offer was genuine if you would like us to escort you."
Belle Sabreuse gives Yara a questioning look, which Yara responds to by leaning over and whispering in her ear. You only catch fragments of their words.
". . . sure . . . real?"
"Too smart . . . fake it for this long."
Yara finally nods and acquiesces to your presence. You continue your journey to the center of the plaza, and Belle Sabreuse moves next to you, speaking in a low voice.
"Please, do forgive her. We've . . . not been certain who to trust lately."
Your brows go up at that, but you keep your tone light.
". . . New Dawn is always listening if you need help."
Belle Sabreuse looks around before speaking again, her words coming fast. "There have been a number of abduction attempts. They've been increasing in frequency as of late. Yara's assailants . . . they're not normal."
You keep a mask of slightly-bored amusement on your face as you look at a display of a life-size of a nutcracker soldier.
"How so?"
"They're . . . simple," Belle Sabreuse says, "They can manage complex tasks, but speaking? Improvising due to an unexpected attack? Impossible. The veneer of humanity peels away. It's the only reason they haven't taken her yet."
She lets out a breath, but she quickly inhales and continues speaking as if a great burden was coming off her chest.
"They're getting smarter. The last batch nearly passed for human. And . . . I recognized one of them. I know I rammed him through the heart with my sword during a previous attempt. So how did he return? I'm holding, but just barely. If metahumans get involved . . ."
"I understand. New Dawn will do what we can. And I have a direct connection with Justice Unlimited. I know Lady Leizi will have an interest in the safety of the younger sister of Uiara."
Belle Sabreuse gives a relieved smile. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I know how difficult it must be to approach your archrivals for help."
You give a mysterious smile. "Not as difficult as you might think."
Belle Sabreuse reels back. "Truly? Times must be changing them."
"Indeed."
* * *
You, the rest of New Dawn, and Belle Sabreuse and Yara all sit in a line in the front row. There was some minor scuffling with an usher about where Yara should sit, but the sight of six metahumans all united in purpose quickly put any protests to rest. As you move toward your assigned block of seats, you find a tall, blonde woman in a red dress and opera gloves sitting in your row.
"Excuse me, miss," you say as politely as possible so as to not scare her. Some people react badly to perceived hostility from metahumans. "I believe this is our assigned row of seats."
The woman gives you an intense look that you find off putting. But then she looks at her pass, laughs, and gives you a beatific smile. She apologies for her mistake and asks you to forgive her.
"Of course," you say, "No harm done."
She asks if, by chance, you are Wolong of New Dawn? She doesn't know too many people who dress in the way you do.
"I am. And this is a team of our members with us as well as some new friends."
Wonderful! She is such a fan. She says this may be an odd request, but could she shake your hand?
You frown. That is an odd request. But before you can protest, she takes off a glove and takes your hand in hers. She then goes down the row and shakes hands with Gentleman James, Miss Naught, Palisade, and Dreamcatcher. She is very enthusiastic, sometimes even grabbing a forearm or shoulder. She goes for Yara, but she hides behind Belle Sabreuse.
"Pardon us," the masked musketeer says, "We are not with New Dawn and not used to the attention."
The woman says it's alright but goes for the handshake again anyway. Yara acts more frightened and you see Belle Sabreuse's hand drifting to her waist again. You intervene—the whole situation is now deeply concerning—but the woman scowls and disappears.
You blink. What were you doing again?
You shake your head and take your seat with Palisade to your left and Yara to your right, with Belle Sabreuse to her right. As you sit down and wait for the ceremony to begin, Yara nervously twists her hair while glancing at you from the corner of her eye. You give her some time, but eventually you realize that you'll need to start the conversation.
"Is something the matter, Ms. Oliviera?"
She flinches before visibly steeling herself. "J-just call me Yara, please. And, um, you knew her, right? My sister?"
You nod. "Uiara? Of course. I daresay there isn't anyone in the metahuman community of Horizon who didn't at least know of her."
"W-what was she like?"
You pause and think. "Uiara . . . was one of the most genuinely heroic people I've had the fortune to meet. She was always the first to put herself in danger for others, and the last to retreat."
You stroke your beard in thought. "Hmm, how to say this? Uiara was . . . direct. There was never any doubt she said what she meant and meant what she said. She had this uncanny knack of finding the good in people and willing it to the surface. It was she who convinced Abarimon to turn himself in, and I know she kept up regular correspondence with him while he was in Wonderland. There are a thousand stories like that about her; there was a reason the whole world came running when she called for the heroes of Horizon to resist the Looming God."
"Wow," Yara breathes with bright eyes, "Ummm, okay, uh. . . did she ever talk about me?"
You feel something in the tone of her voice tug at your heartstrings. You choose your words carefully. "I'm afraid I am the wrong person to ask. Despite your sister's reputation, things were always tense between Justice Unlimited and New Dawn. To my deep regret, I never had much chance to speak with her outside a professional capacity."
"O-oh," Yara says, looking down.
"But," you add, "If anyone would know, it would be Lady Leizi. I'll make sure to ask her personally the next time I see her."
"Oh! Thank you."
Yara's expression perks back up, and Belle Sabreuse gives you a grateful look over Yara's shoulder. You find yourself curious about the Ọsanyìn heiress, but your chance to further engage her in conversation is spoiled by the emcee.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and good citizens of the City of Leviathan's Rest, thank you for joining Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries for a special Christmas celebration!" a voice booms. On stage, a tall, bronze man with immaculately styled hair walks forward to a podium. Behind him is a row of mostly empty chairs with three people sitting on the far right end.
"I am Juan Bonfim, and I will be your master of ceremonies this evening!"
You have to stop yourself from flinching. The man is loud.
"Now, let's hear it for the generous folks at Ọsanyìn and their generous portions of shrimp cocktail! Ha!"
He draws a few chuckles from the audience.
"Without further ado, all my to introduce our first speaker. It is my deep and true honor to introduce a man who needs no introduction. The son of Ọsanyìn himself, a member of the board of this great company, and a true child of Horizon, please give a warm welcome to Mr. Jair Oliviera!"
Applause fills the air, which you politely join, but you don't miss Yara shrinking in her seat like she wants to disappear.
From the rightmost chair rises a tall, broad man with dark skin and short, curly hair. He wears a suit sharp enough to draw blood, with every detail of his appearance so neat and precise it was like a painting. However, what truly stuck out to you was his eyes. They were dark brown, but with a fire burning in them. It was as if he saw the world both for what it was and for what he desired it to be.
A man to be wary around for sure.
"Thank you," he says to Juan Bonfim with a curt nod, as he approaches a podium, "And thank you to everyone who has joined us today. My father, the man who was Ọsanyìn, built this city for the sake of an ideal. An ideal that the future was not some distant goal just out of reach, but something that we could achieve if we just reached hard enough for it. He spent his life doing just that, but my father died before he saw his dream realized. And what followed in the wake of his passing?"
Jair slams the podium.
"Chaos. Anarchy. Disorder. His company left leaderless and rudderless. Opportunists draining the prosperity of Horizon. Metahuman warlords carving up his city piece by piece into fiefdoms for them to rule."
He leans over and fixes the audience with a stare that somehow felt unique to each person. Then, to your surprise, Jair bows his head and holds the position.
"You deserved better. You all deserved better. We have failed you, and from the bottom of my heart, I apologize."
He raises his head and continues.
"There is not a person here who has not felt the ravages of the so-called 'Movement'. Horizon is in disarray, failed by its former protectors."
"Aww, crapbaskets. Here we go," Miss Naught mutters.
"New Dawn promised to keep the most vile criminals this world has known safely behind bars," Jair declares, "And now, those same monsters are free to roam the streets. There were no precautions, no backup plans, just the arrogant belief that their 'heroes' would never die."
He looks at you directly.
"I mean no disrespect to brave men and women who now hold the line against impossible odds. You can hardly be blamed for Novalight's failure."
You keep a neutral expression but give a slight nod back. Is this why you were invited here? You have an inkling in your mind where this was going, and it did not bode well.
"But it is not just New Dawn. You have been failed by your other protectors in deeper, more direct ways. The recent revelations as to the true nature of Scarlet Maturity and this Faust give rise to questions of if Powers truly has your best interests at heart."
He gestures to a tall woman with long, raven hair and a red blazer, sitting behind him. "Which is why I invite Gertrude von Goethe, acting CEO of Dominion Security Concerns, to join me."
The woman rises, and gracefully walks next to Jair, who moves aside and lets her take the podium. She's wearing a pair of dark, horned rim glasses that she readjusts before speaking.
"Thank you, Jair," she says, "And yes, I am Gertrude von Goethe, the acting CEO of Dominion Security Concerns. 'Acting' because this morning, effectively immediately, Christopher Mason—'Faust'—has tendered his resignation."
There is a susurration of whispers around you. The sinking feeling in your stomach grows worse.
"After a thorough investigation and review, Dominion Security Concerns had determined that Faust had breached his duty of care to the company and engaged in multiple unauthorized acts that have harmed our good name and—more importantly—harmed the people we serve. We are working tirelessly to see if his 'contracts' can be rendered void and compensating all of his victims until then."
She readjusts her glasses again.
"Likewise, Scarlet Maturity has been relieved of his leadership role in Powers and indefinitely suspended. He is cooperative with our requests."
If your eyebrows go any high, they're going to fly off your head. You feel your power whirling behind your eyes, this is the only move to make. The proof was too irrefutable.
Goethe goes on. "I swear to you, the citizens of Horizon, that Dominion Security Concerns and Powers will work tirelessly to restore the faith that you have lost in us. But words are cheap. Action is expensive. Which is why, I'm pleased to announce a new, joint-venture between Dominion Security Concerns and Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries!"
If the noise before was loud, it is now deafening. Your mind is awhirl. It's a new metahuman team. Ọsanyìn largely stayed out of the metahuman race—everyone else had too much of a head start. Ọsanyìn was left leaderless after their namesake's death. It's a match made in heaven, Ọsanyìn gets the foot in the metahuman market they've always craved, and Dominion gets to launder their reputation.
However, even with your power, you're not prepared for what comes next.
"Thank you, Gertrude," Jair says, "But our new project was grander in scope than either of our corporations could handle on their own. It calls for a special kind of expertise. Which is why it is my pleasure to introduce our next speaker, former Brigadier General in the United States Army and current CEO of Allied Global Logistics: General Oliver Bringham."
The final person sitting on stage stands up and comes forward. He's a powerfully built, no-nonsense man with a haircut you could set a watch to. Jair and Goethe move, and he approaches the podium. He's noticeably more stiff than the other speakers, and his choice of words is similarly terse.
"We lost too many good soldiers when the Leviathan moved. Global Justice can no longer secure the front. AGL was approached by Ọsanyìn and asked to participate in this initiative. We agreed, as it was the best way to protect the people who depend on us."
"Thank you, General," Jair says, smoothly stepping back in, "Which leads to the actual announcement. I'm certain we have left you in enough suspense. I am proud to announce that the expertise of Global Justice, the manpower of Powers, and the resources and sterling ethical standards of Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries have come together to form a new heroic organization for you, the people. Today, I announce that no longer will terror live on our doorsteps. Today, I announce that no longer will criminals freely walk the streets."
Jair leans forward, the fire in his eyes burning bright. "Today, I announce Crusade!"
Every screen in the plaza changes to show a logo of a white sword pointed downward over a blue Jerusalem Cross.
"A team of metahumans founded on accountability, service, and, of course, justice. A new bred of hero for a new age."
You can hear Palisade grinding her teeth at that one. The dig at New Dawn was unmistakable.
"Allow me to introduce the members of our new team." As Jair spoke, each member arrived from off stage and took a seat behind him. Every person wore a variation of their old costume, now with a blue and white color scheme and the symbol of Crusade on their arm.
"Formerly of Global Justice, Plasticity! Perspective! And newly recovered from his wounds suffered in defense of Horizon in the Quarantine Zone, Joules!"
"That bastard wasn't injured in the QZ!" Palisade hisses, "He ran away! I'm amazed he has the gall to show his face in public again!"
"I don't believe he has shame," Gentleman James murmurs back.
Sure enough, Joules is mugging to the crowd and even attempts to take the podium before Perspective kicks out the back of his knees and Plasticity drags him to his seat.
"Next, from Powers: Ronin, The Brass Shield, new member Été—"
Été arrives looking terrible. There are dark circles around her eyes, she's noticeably lost weight, and her presence is diminished somehow. She keeps her head down, makes eye contact with no one, and quickly takes her seats. You don't miss the black armband she wears, the only person on stage to do so.
But the next name you hear drives that idle observation from your mind, along with everything else.
"—and Anansi!"
Sunny walks on stage, her head held low like she's walking to her death. She looks up for a second and accidently makes eye contact with you, before putting her head down again and walking faster. Her eyes are wild, and you can see her heavy breathing. You can only see her face for just a second— you only get a single point of data in a great chart—but it's enough.
DC 20
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 20. Wolong has (3) charges remaining on his power.
AUTO-PASS
Success! -1 charge!
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 20. Wolong has (3) charges remaining on his power.
AUTO-PASS
Success! -1 charge!
You've known Sunny since she was a girl. Dick brought her specifically to you, after he realized what her power was. Deadman knew how corporations and organizations would use up an Algernon-type until there was nothing left but an empty shell. He didn't want that life for his little sister. Novalight had gnashed her teeth and protested, but here you held firm. Sunny was allowed to develop her specialization safely and only used her power when absolutely necessary.
She was a bright, happy girl who became a bright, confident young woman. She matched her name perfectly. She was the voice in the ear of every metahuman in New Dawn, friendly rivals and gaming partners with Moon River, and the only person keeping her brother tethered to reality.
But after the Movement, she disappeared off the face of the Earth.
There's shame on her face, but there's something else too. Confusion. Longing. Sunny wants to be sitting with all of you. Sunny doesn't understand why she ever left New Dawn.
Her defection made no sense, as did her total lack of communication afterward. She's ashamed of her actions she doesn't understand, and that shame is making it impossible for her to talk to you. It's making it impossible for her to ask for help. Even now, she has to try to justify her actions to herself or it means she's losing her mind. But why did she leave? Not even she knows.
You exhale as you let go of your power. Palisade looks over at you—she can tell what you were doing. You tap her leg once to indicate you'll explain later. But the revelation leaves you shaken: Sunny is in trouble.
But there's no more time to think about that right then. Jair continues.
"You might see many familiar faces here on the stage. But that is not what you were promised. You were promised change. Something new. And so you shall receive it." He gestures upwards, toward Jacob's Ladder. "High above our planet, there exists a world of tomorrow. A world that should mirror our own, but instead remains an unreachable dream. The people of Elysium Station live in comfort and security, protected by the Horae Guard."
He drops his hand.
"But your cries of suffering have reached their ears. The people above the world can longer remain ignorant of their fellow humanity's pain. I now introduce three new members of Crusade, hand-selected from the Horae Guard!"
You . . . you weren't sure that Horae Guard was actually real. Rumors abound of an elite organization of metahumans, whose sole purpose was to protect the Elysium Station. The story was that powerful metahumans would disappear into the night, promised a place in Elysium if they would devote their life to protecting the station. They were never heard or seen again—they could never return to Earth—but why would they? It was paradise. Supposedly it was the Horae Guard who drove back The Defiance Unit during their assault.
To have their existence confirmed in a manner like this . . . Ọsanyìn was truly sparing no expense. Jair was determined to make a move. Determine to retake control of Horizon.
"First, Seraph!" Jair shouts.
A figure shining so brightly that you're unable to directly look at her arrives on the stage. The glare lessens fractionally, and you can just make out a blindfolded woman dressed in a toga with giant, angelic wings extending from her back.
"Greetings," you hear a voice in your mind say. Seraph smiles and then takes a seat next to Été who puts a hand over her eyes to block the glare.
"Next, the Sunlight Knight!"
Nothing happens for a moment until you hear a loud whistling, like a mortar shell. Then you see him, a figure streaking from the sky like a comet. Sunlight Knight lands on stage on top of a horse made of fiery light, and then dismounts and dismisses his steed. He raises a fist to rapturous cheers from the crowd, and then takes a seat.
"He certainly knows how to make an entrance," Jair says, "Last, but not least, the final member from the Horae guard. A native of Elysium, born and raised on the station, he has left paradise in pursuit of higher ideals. It is my honor to introduce: White Hawk."
Compared to the bombastic lightshow of his cohorts, White Hawk's descent to the stage is subdued. He wears a visor with a beak-like mask and a cape shaped like wings over his shoulders. His wavy, blonde hair falls to his just past his neck, while his exposed, muscular arms drop to his side. Unlike the other heroes, he moves to take the podium. It's apparently a scripted maneuver, as Jair has already made space for him.
"Hello," he says in a pleasant baritone, "And thank you to Mr. Jair Oliviera for that warm welcome."
He gives a gentle smile that you can imagine will be played ad nauseam in the coming days.
"But I'm not sure if I agree with the distinction between Elysium and Earth. It feels . . . a little overwrought?" He gives a self-deprecating laugh. "We're all just people. I was just fortunate to grow up with a better view than most."
He draws a polite chuckle at that.
"As a child, I used to gaze down on Earth and dream about what the surface was like. It seemed so magical to me, the place where all life started. It was only seven years ago, when Elysium was attacked by the vile Defiance Unit, that I understood that not all places were as fortunate as Elysium. Not everyone had the safety and security I had so taken for granted. On that day, I swore I would return to the Earth and not rest until every person could walk without fear. And so, that is what this Crusade shall be for."
Oh no. You realize what's happening a second too late. They need to draw attention from the failure of Powers. They need to draw attention elsewhere—fight a battle where their clientele can watch and be reassured that someone is "doing something". Somewhere that won't actually affect the people they serve—
"Which is why, today I make this vow," White Hawk leans forward, over the podium and staring directly into a camera, "Monarch? You and your so-called lieutenants are living on borrowed time. Crusade is coming for you. And we will not rest until you are utterly defeated."
All out war. You feel lightheaded as applause and roars of approval explode around you. AGL, Dominion, and Ọsanyìn have combined their resources to create a metahuman team to wage war in your backyard. Nevermind your careful plans to limit collateral damage. Nevermind your deal with Lady Leizi. There was no more time. To protect the Uni District, you needed a scalpel. They have created a sledgehammer.
There would be blood in New Dawn's territory, currently being cheered on by those who would never suffer the consequences. Was this why they invited you? For your tacit endorsement of this madness?
The applause takes several minutes to die down. As he waits, White Hawk stands with the same slight smile on his handsome face. You narrow your eyes. He either doesn't understand the carnage he's about to unleash . . . or he doesn't care.
Finally, the noise ends and White Hawk can speak again.
"Thank you. Thank you all, truly. But for Crusade to succeed, we need a strong leader," he says, "And not myself. I am too inexperienced, too unfamiliar with the world down here. No. We need someone who has fought and spilled blood in defense of Horizon. Who knows the horrors of the Movement and has resolved to never let them come to pass again."
He steps aside as a hydraulic lift raises someone onto the stage behind him. It's a person in armor.
Armor that is all too familiar. A white bodysuit, overwhich lay countless interlocking plates of armor. A helmet with a black visor over the eyes. A double crest on the forehead, and thicker armor across the back and shoulders. The amor plates have been planted blue with red highlights, and the word "PREVAIL" has been emblazoned down the side of one arm.
As the figure walks to the podium, White Hawk announces, "Please meet the leader of Crusade, the inheritor of the will of Global Justice and Horizon as a whole, Valiant Red, White, and Blue!"
"That name is terrible," you breathe at the walking insult in front of you. You know that armor. You know that title.
All of it stolen.
Valiant Red, White, and Blue takes the podium and removes his helmet, revealing a face you know. It's Stockpile, the young Algernon-type metahuman that Justiciar was protecting. He sets his helmet down next to him, a manic light in his eyes.
"Hello," he says. He sounds older. He looks older. "My name is Silvio Serra Fernandes, and I was once known as Stockpile. But that young boy died along with many—too many—good souls during the Movement."
He surveyed the audience.
"Earlier, when Mr. Jair Oliviera discussed how Horizon was failed by its protectors, there was one name noticeably omitted. This is not to absolve them of the same condemnation. No, quite the opposite. There is no group more responsible for suffering in this city than Justice Unlimited."
He practically spits the name.
"The armor I wear was recovered from Valiant Silver," he says, examining his hand, "Inside of it, I found a terrible truth. This armor is a psionic siphon, designed to draw raw psychic energy from elsewhere to empower the user."
He squeezes his fist.
"And Valiant Silver found a practically unending source of power, one many thought long dead. Yes, Valiant Silver stole her power directly from the Leviathan itself."
Someone gasps in horror. Your eyebrows go up. Is it possible . . .?
Strength of Alliance with New Dawn: Wolong is fully committed.
No change.
No change.
No, you decide immediately. It isn't. It doesn't make any sense. But the uneasy feeling goes on as Valiant Red, White, and Blue continues, now nearly ranting.
"The Movement was her doing. She delved too greedily and too deeply into the Leviathan, disturbing it from its slumber, awakening it and nearly killing us all! Good people died in her bid for power! SLAYERS, New Dawn, the Captain herself! Too many sacrificed at the altar of one woman's ego!"
"Wait, that doesn't seem right though?"
A voice cuts through the speech. To your surprise, it's coming from next to you. Dreamcatcher is standing with one hand raised, using the other to continue eating a sandwich of some sort.
"I was at the Movement—I was fighting on a dragon, it was super rad—and I don't think I saw any of you there?" he says pointing to the metahumans on stage, "The Leviathan only stopped moving after VS showed up. She had some gadget that put it back to sleep. I'm pretty sure she didn't cause it, she, uh, opposite-caused it?"
"Stopped it," Palisade hisses.
"Oh, right, duh. Yeah, she stopped it! You sure you're just not mistaken about the armor, lil' guy?"
You can see Valiant Red, White, and Blue clenching his jaw, but Dreamcatcher's words have found purchase with the audience who quietly whisper.
"Yes," you agree, standing up, "Valiant Silver very clearly stopped the Movement. Silvio–" you refuse to call him by his stolen moniker, "Is it possible you just misunderstood the purpose of her armor? It's by all accounts the masterwork of an unparalleled mind."
"I'm certain," he says. There's a gleam of victory in his eye and you realize you've walked into a trap, "But you don't need to take my word for it. Valiant Silver's crimes would have gone undetected, but for a warning sent directly to Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries."
Across every screen on the plaza, a face appears. A face known to everyone in Horizon: it's Uiara. Only, she isn't wearing her mask. She looks exhausted, but determined, a familiar expression you've seen on her countless times. The video starts playing.
Jair . . . Dad, although I'm certain you don't deserve that title. It's been over ten years since we last spoke, and if I have my way it will be another ten. But this goes beyond us both. Nora . . . Valiant Silver . . . my love isn't in her right mind. I think . . . I think it's what happened to Avô. She's forgetting things, acting wild, and won't stop using her power. She's experimenting on things she shouldn't be. She's experimenting on the Leviathan.
I can't . . . I can't stop her. I can't get anyone else to listen to me either. They don't know her the way I do. They can't see how far gone she is. She's planning something tomorrow, some kind of grand project. I'm going to do what I can to stop her, but if I fail then you need to protect the rest of the city. You're a worthless father and a terrible human being, but, if you have an ounce of goodness in you, you will heed my warning.
Be ready. I pray this amounts to nothing and I have to spend the next year ignoring your calls again.
"No . . ." Yara cries, holding her hands to her mouth. There's a stunned silence in the audience.
It's fake. You know it has to be fake. They have Sunny, doctoring a video would be trivial—
DC 5
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 10. Wolong has (2) charges remaining on his power.
AUTO-PASS
Success! -1 charge!
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 10. Wolong has (2) charges remaining on his power.
AUTO-PASS
Success! -1 charge!
It's real. Your power turns up nothing. Even the most flawless of forgeries have something wrong with them, some calling card of inaccuracy. Some thread you can pull on and tease out.
But there's nothing.
You push harder. It isn't real. You know it's not real—
DC 15
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 10. Wolong has (1) charges remaining on his power.
AUTO-PASS
Success! -1 charge!
Stat Check: OPERATIONS 10. Wolong has (1) charges remaining on his power.
AUTO-PASS
Success! -1 charge!
Not only is it real, but the Uiara in the video sincerely believes every word she is saying. You feel a spike of agony in your temples as you overextend your power. Distantly you're aware of Yara desperately whispering to Belle Sabreuse.
". . . has to be one of them. It has to be. It has to!"
"No. I'm sorry, dear heart. But we both know they can't fake that level of emotion."
"Well?" Valiant Red, White, and Blue demands, "Anything to say, Wolong? Have you found anything wrong with the last message of a true hero?
". . . no," you're forced to admit after a long pause.
He gives a cold smile. "The Movement was Justice Unlimited's doing. And they haven't stopped. Word has reached our ears of a top secret 'Project Prometheus' that continues the madness started by Valiant Silver."
You carefully disguise your surprise with a wince of pain. It's not difficult.
"We demand that Justice Unlimited open their doors and submit themselves to a full audit of all of their secret projects! The citizens of Horizon will not bear another foolhardy attempt to tame the Looming God! Justice Unlimited will face punishment for their crimes, or we will go forward and drag their sins into the light!"
The crowd roars and you swear bitterly about how thoroughly you were outplayed. Your own power used to validate their accusations. Foolish. Foolish. He doesn't understand he's destroying the last hope for true heroism in the city!
Then, as if she heard your thoughts, a sonic boom splits the sky.
Everyone looks up, as Black Swan descends from the heavens, her mast fully opaque. Suddenly, the topic of conversation switches.
"It's the woman who defeated Scarlet Maturity."
"She can fly at the speed of light, right? Was that a sonic boom?!"
"Justice Unlimited? Why's she here?"
There's a susurration of anticipation that falls to silence as Black Swan simply hangs in the air, slightly higher than the stage but above the audience.
Then, she speaks.
"It doesn't belong to you."
Her words seem to reverberate in the air. You remember Black Swan as a bubbly, young girl. Here floats a powerful, young hero.
"What was that?" Valiant Red, White, and Blue says, "If you're here to intimidate us or threaten these innocent people—"
"The armor doesn't belong to you. You stole it. Like you stole the name."
Black Swan doesn't raise her voice. She doesn't make a face. Just speaks calmly and levelly as if she was discussing the weather.
"Black Swan, is it?" White Hawk says, stepping in, "It's a delight to meet you, although I wish they were under less alarming circumstances. Perhaps we can have this discussion in private—"
"It won't ever be yours," Black Swan continues, not even acknowledging White Hawk, "And you won't ever find what you're looking for while you wear it. I just thought you should know."
"How dare you?!" Valiant Red, White, and Blue shouts, "You have the arrogance to come here and preach at me while your organization is responsible—"
"I don't think it is," Black Swan says, "I don't believe that video. I can't explain why, but it feels wrong. And even if everything you say is true, then so what? Either way Valiant Silver died stopping the Movement. If it was her fault, then she died fixing her mistake."
"So what?!" Valiant Red, White, and Blue snarls, "The Captain is dead! Steadfast is dead! Global Justice burned for no reason, and that madwoman's work continues. Tell me this: what is Project Prometheus? If you have nothing to hide, then surely you can share the details. What is it?"
Black Swan stares at him and then starts to drift back up into the sky. "I think it's the thing you actually care about. I hope you really meant everything you said about protecting people."
"Where are you going? Come back here!" he screams, "If Justice Unlimited won't stop, then we'll stop you. We'll destroy you utterly! We will come to blows!"
Black Swan actually stops for a moment. With genuine confusion she asks, "Why? We're heroes. Are you bad guys or something?"
Then she takes off into the sky and disappears with another sonic boom. Valiant Red, White, and Blue swears another oath of revenge, but he's shuffled off the stage. Crusade's debut has been thoroughly derailed.
But not, you think through the pain in your head, their plans. You need to rest. You must recover. You'll need every use of your power to plan for the coming storm.
To plan how to weather the Crusade.
* * *
You are Black Swan. You return to the Apiary faster than any other living thing in Horizon could, save perhaps one particular orangutan.
As you arrive, you see the shell-shocked faces of the residents of the Apiary as well as the rest of your team. There is a smoking table that lay in ruins from where it was destroyed by lightning. As you land, Rhys approaches.
"Hey . . . good job, Mona. I'm glad you put that twerp in his place."
"I just said the truth," you say, "Where is Lady Leizi?"
"In her room. I think she needs to be alone right now."
"No," you say as you float by, "She doesn't."
You've never been in Lady Leizi's room before, but you know where it is. As you fly in, you see the room is completely dark except for two screens. One shows a news broadcast discussing today's events.
"A shocking Christmas Day announcement! Scarlet Maturity suspended, Dominion under new leadership, Crusade, the Horae Guard confirmed to be real, revelations about the cause of the Movement, and Valiant Red, White, and Blue—"
"Don't call him that."
"You're right! It's a mouthful for sure. The folks online have already dubbed him "Valiant Justice", much catchier I think—"
"Not that either. He stole her name. Black Swan was right."
"Listen, Chichi—"
"Don't call me that."
You turn off the broadcast and turn to the other source of light in the room. The screen on Lady Leizi's desk. She's a mess. Her hair is everywhere, her clothing is askew, a cup of some alcoholic beverage held in her hand. Most damningly, she's not wearing her sunglasses.
You try to ignore the fact that her eyes are red and puffy.
On her screen, an open DM conversation sits open.
The last message was sent forty minutes ago. There is no answer.
You walk over, pull the cup out of her hands, and try to pull her to her feet.
"Come on, Lady Leizi. We still have to do White Elephant. Don't pick Maddie's gift. It's a box filled with clones of Shelob."
She lets out a miserable, raspy laugh. "I don't think I'm in any condition for a party, darling."
"Tough poop. Suck it up. Put on your sunglasses, do whatever you do to make your hair perfect, and let's go. Everyone is scared and they need their leader."
"I don't think anyone needs—"
"I need you!" you shout, "I'm doing a super excellent job of keeping it together, but I'm like, crazy close to freaking out. If you act like this, then everyone will too."
You point to the screen. "We'll figure this out tomorrow. We'll find Moon River and drag her back by her virtual butt or something. But today is Christmas. The best day of the year. Come have fun. They don't get to have this. They don't get to win."
Lady Leizi is looking at you in wonder and, wow, her eyes are, like, so pretty?!
"You . . . you're right, darling. How embarrassing of me." She stands up and runs her hand through her hair, immediately smoothing it over with nary a hair out of place. It's bullshit.
"Give me a moment, and I'll rejoin you. Please give everyone my deepest apologies for my outburst."
"Yeah," you nod, "But there's no fixing Alice's apple cobbler. That kind of got destroyed and they spent hours on that."
"I'll have to make it up to them," Lady Leizi says as she cleans herself up. As you leave, she says, "Oh, and Black Swan?"
"Yeah?"
"I thought you needed more time before you were ready for leadership. It appears I was wrong. I'm sorry for underestimating you."
"Oh, fudge that. I'd rather fight Scarlet Maturity again then do all the paperwork you do!"
* * *
That night, Lady Leizi gave a quick apology to Mendicant under the mistletoe, John Henry proved immune to arachnophobia, and Opale and Rhys sang a kickass duet of "Judgement". The air was uneasy, but confidence returned to the Apiary.
A girl without a body watched through a backdoor in the security system she installed. When the evening ended, her avatar blinked once and then disappeared.
I'm sorry, Zixuan.
You're better off without me.
______________________________________________________________________________
-5 to Justice Unlimited's Global REPUTATION!
Alliance with New Dawn Remains unchanged!
All missions with Wonderland Inmates will cost +1 AP and have additional HIT requirements!
Crusade may appear during missions! They're not super friendly!
Every turn, Crusade will continue their PR campaign against Justice Unlimited. A REPUTATION roll will decide any reduction to global REPUTATION if any. This will continue until Justice Unlimited submits to an audit or clears Valiant Silver's name!
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