Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

MANHATTAN MADNESS

PROLOGUE

The empty barrow of Newgrange in Brú na Bóinne was silent, the still dust of centuries settled in a quiet layer atop the remaining artifacts and stonework. Yet there were disturbances in the ground, places where things had been moved. The only evidence was the thinner layer of dust where they had been taken from.

This was noticed instantly by the eyes of their owner.

“Feh! And this is what I get for leaving them unattended!” Muttering, the voice turned to see the disturbed graves and sighed. “It better have been the blasted Saxons, at least.”

With a wave of the hand, he found twinkling stars in front of his eyes. “Seek out my property, and come back when you’ve found it. Let no one see.” The stars shuddered for a moment, then sped out of the barrow into the sky.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1

David Xanatos watched as the sun began to slink below the western horizon, checking his suit one final time. The next few days would be trying, to say the least. He needed to make sure everything was ready one final time, no matter how many previous checks he’d made. Fox was doing the same, making sure her own combat armor had fresh plates and paint. Alexander watched everything from his seat, clapping as he watched his mother and father set to their greatest accomplishment yet.

“Tell me my dear,” he said. “What’s the first thing you want to do when this is all over?”

Fox thought for a moment, then said, “I’ve never been to Milan. Getting a dress custom made there would be quite the experience.”

Xanatos smiled, turning back to his wife. “Maybe we can take on one of their best designers as a commissioned artist?”

Fox smirked. “For how long?”

“As long as you want my dear,” Xanatos answered, moving to sit at the edge of his desk. “The world, potentially quite literally, will be our oyster.”

Kavanaugh was asleep when he heard knocking on his door. Doing his best to shake the cobwebs away, he was instantly awake when he heard Sgt. Weber on the other side. “Kavanaugh, get your squad ready in twenty.”

That got Kavanaugh moving. Grabbing his go-bag and hoisting it on his bed, he went through everything he’d need before going down the hall of the barracks slamming on doors. “First squad! Up and moving! C’mon you lot, sergeant says we need to go! I want accountability in twenty minutes, get your things and get dressed!” The squad was out of their rooms in five, items laid out and ready. All he needed to do was call out the items, and they appeared. Socks, gloves, spare fatigues, the rest they’d secure at the armory in the SGC for the rest of the operation. Since that’s what this had to be.

Moving out of the barracks with Durand’s squad, they assembled at the front and saw their captain and sergeant waiting. The captain was smiling as the squads fell in with their kit on their backs. “Well, the good news is that command feels that the situation is stable. The ceasefire broke, aye, but the fighting is nowhere near where it was. We’re going back to the multiverse.” He let the small cheer sweep through the platoon before clearing his throat. “Aye, and we’ve got work to do. Corporals, is the platoon ready?”

Kavanaugh and Durand both answered, “Aye, sir!”

Campbell smiled, hoisting his own kit bag. “Alright, everyone to their rooms, we’ll be leaving from there. Staggered in pairs, Kavanaugh’s squad first. Any questions? Alright, let’s move.”

The platoon filed back into the barracks, the corporal on duty rising and saluting Campbell. “Good luck sir.”

Campbell returned the salute. “We’ll make sure to bring Becker and Gantz back in one piece.” The corporal let out a groan as the platoon laughed. Everyone moved to their rooms, paired off and ready. “Two minute intervals,” Campbell ordered, standing before Weber’s room. “Kavanaugh, kick us off.”

Kavanaugh nodded, then turned to Scholz. Getting a nod, he made sure they both had donned their sunglasses and called out, “Recalling.”

A bright flash, and the pair were back in the SGC. Moving off the array, Kavanaugh enjoyed that now-familiar smell of old Cold War concrete. Moving away from the array, he looked up from the airmen lowering their weapons and called out, “Sir! MV-4 reporting, sir!”

Gen. Hammond smiled from the control room. “Welcome back corporal.”

As the pair moved to the side of the gateroom, a second flash showed Becker and Gantz moving off the array. Somehow, it all felt...right.

The sun was beginning to set in Manhattan, but Elisa was already getting set for the day. She’d already showered, dressed, and was making herself a bagel after getting some fresh food in Cagney’s bowl. As the gray stray set to his dinner, she could hear it from the bedroom, the shattering of stone followed by a swift cleanup. Smirking as she went to the coffee machine, she waited until the footsteps padded into the kitchenette before saying, “The sooner we get you what the rest of the clan has, the better.”

“I find it familiar,” Goliath said, dropping the smaller debris in the trash and the larger portions down on the floor. “I know no other way to rest.”

“Familiar maybe, but the other night when I went to bed I had a section of granite in the middle of my back.” Smirking, she glanced over her shoulder to find Goliath pressing himself into her back. “I don’t think it’d be that bad to have this all the time. Now c’mon rookie, you better get in uniform.”

Dressed in his custom-tailored uniform, badge pinned to his left breast and hair put up in a bun, Goliath donned his patrol cap and joined Elisa in her vintage ‘57 coup. He always had to put the seat back all the way, but still, at least he found a way to fit.

Parking outside the Twenty-Third, they took a moment to nod to the still-present memorial out front. The flowers had long wilted, the stuffed animals taken to charities, but the painted stones and badges remained with the candles and rosaries. That was the NYPD for you. Stepping inside, they nodded to the desk sergeant, then parted. Elisa went for the now-refocused “Special Investigations Section” as Goliath made his way to the bullpen. He arrived ten minutes before the shift, smiling as he found the only chair that could fit him. “Good evening, Parnell.”

“Hey G,” the young officer said, beaming up at his fellow rookie. Still bearing freckles to go with his pale skin and bright red hair, he said, “You catch any of the game yesterday?”

“I’m afraid baseball still escapes me,” Goliath admitted. “Perhaps some night I should ask Elisa to take me to a game.”

“Well you’re not missing much this season,” Vincenzo grumbled from across the aisle. “Mets are really showing everyone how much they suck.”

Parnell shook his head. “We’ve got two teams, genius.”

“My father raised me on the Mets, I’ll die cheering on the Mets. No matter how hard they make it.”

Goliath smiled as the bullpen filled with his fellow officers. True, he’d seen the seedier side of the city often. He knew full-well there were police who were no more worthy of the name than a rotting carcass was of becoming gold. Yet he himself would do his duty. If those lesser police had issue, he knew how to handle such intimidation as well.

“Okay, okay people, let’s shut up for five minutes,” the sergeant called out, stepping up to the podium at the front of the bullpen. “Okay, assignments for the night. Parnell, Lewis, Johnston, Cepil, you’re all going to Penn Station tonight. Pennington, Montez, Vincenzo, Goliath, you’ve got the Port Authority. Cruz, Boyne, Sofia, Welch, you’ve got the Garden. Now things have been pretty calm lately, but I don’t want anyone losing focus. Alright, any questions? Then get to it.”

As the patrol teams formed up, Goliath patted Parnell on the back. “Give me a good night to partake in a game, Parnell. Would you mind if Elisa came along?”

“Nah, no problem big guy,” Parnell said, donning his cap. “Meet up after the shift, okay?”

“Flipping Yankees fans, I tell ya,” Vincenzo muttered, as Pennington and Montez joined them. “Well, c’mon, let’s get over to the bus station.”

Elisa checked over the corkboard in the SIS office, and shook her head. “He’s been too quiet since the gala.”

Bluestone looked up from his own notes. “Glad someone else sees it.”

Morgan and Travanti glanced at each other before Morgan said, “You think he’s spooked?”

“No, he’s still doing business as usual,” Elisa muttered. “It feels like a calm before a storm”

“So, what do we have,” Bluestone muttered, stepping up next to Elisa. They looked over it all, at least, the “all” that was publicly known.

“Nothing without Campbell’s people telling us what we don’t know,” Elisa admitted. “And it’s taking too long for anything to come back about what Fox brought over from Ireland. We still haven’t heard back from Homeland?”

“Only that the process may take some time,” Travanti sighed. “But they’re processing our request with all due expediency.”

Morgan smirked. “Translation, Mr. Former-FBI Agent?”

Bluestone grinned. “They’re swamped and we’ll hear back in a year if we’re lucky.”

A round of chuckles, until Morgan checked his phone. “Man, my brother needs more money.”

Elisa’s eyebrow went up. “Car trouble?”

“Food trouble, he’s having trouble stretching his money to meet his bills,” Morgan answered. “And two kids going into high school, that ain’t easy right now.”

“Tell me about it,” Travanti muttered. “Even a bachelor like me’s trying to make the food last a little longer.”

“Yeah, times are tough all over,” Elisa sighed, turning back to the corkboard. “Probably just the way he wants them to be.”

The next morning, the platoon were gathered with Overwatch and Dead Six in the briefing room. Campbell stood behind the podium, smiling as he nodded to the present teams. “Alright, all of you settle and listen, we’re going to have a busy few weeks ahead of us. Now, we’re ready to go to our final operation in Oregon. Cipher is apparently still contained, which gives us some time to prepare with Argus. We’re going to coordinate with them and their perimeter around the town, we’re presuming that it’s being led by Agent Powers. Our goal is simple: Find the individuals corresponding with the seal that can banish Cipher back to whatever prison he came from. The town proper will be a literal hellhole, so we will attempt to round the outskirts to make our way to the hanging cliffs and to Mabel Land.”

Kavanaugh nodded, taking notes along with the rest of the briefing as Campbell said, “We don’t know what the specific nature of Gravity Falls is at the present moment, but we do know that nothing we carry can harm Cipher long enough to put him down. We either drag him back to his hell, or we at least keep him sealed up for eternity. Our first objective is to get to Mabel Town and get her out. We assembled everyone at the Mystery Shack, and commence the ritual there behind a unicorn-hair barrier. Any questions?”

“What about the rest of the shit in that town,” Parker said. “Are we eliminating it?”

“Negative, those are...super-naturally occurring,” Campbell noted. “The manotaurs, the Lilli-putians, even the dinosaurs are all part of the local environment.”

Parker still asked, “What about the gnomes trying to force Mabel to marry them?”

Campbell paused, looking to Weber before answering, “Alright if the gnomes still try to get her to marry any of them, then maybe you can shoot a few.” A round of laughs, then back to the briefing. “We have a full list of individuals we need to find and keep safe. Find these individuals, keep them safe, and we can stop Cipher. Now, we’ll have two days before we leave for Area 51. Enjoy yourselves, I’m sure Ms. Hamada will have plenty of food to serve up in the meantime.” A round of cheers from his platoon. “That’s all I have for now. Captains, a moment please. Everyone else, dismissed.” The teams instantly dove into each other, Weber nodding to her captain as she left the trio of captains to their work.

Parker didn’t hesitate once the doors shut. “No trouble with the PAC?”

“Lines are roughly the same, whatever happened they weren’t fully ready to exploit it.” Campbell shrugged. “Small blessings, but blessings all the same.”

Fareeha nodded. “So, what about the platoon?”

Campbell sighed, pacing the floor behind the podium. “They’ll be ready. Just not looking forward to telling them that this is going to be it for a while. Even if they know it.”

Parker’s eyebrow went up. “You guys can’t take any leave there?”

“I’m sure we can, but whether it’d be good for our mental health or not, I’d have to talk with Dr. Pandey and Col. Mackenzie on the matter.” Rubbing at his face, he did his best to smile and turned back to his peers. “I understand Amphibia was quite the battle. Shame we had to miss it.”

“It wasn’t,” Fareeha sighed. Then she elbowed the commando. “Still, we all learned something, didn’t we Parker?” Parker rolled his eyes, but Campbell decided to leave that one alone. “So, you really think they can do this?”

“We’re still going in like we’re expecting a fight,” Campbell noted. “We’re going to make sure we have a Pilum and AV-18, I’d recommend your teams grab their own heavier kit as well.”

Parker smirked, glancing at Amari. “Think one of the triplets might come in handy?”

Fareeha grinned. “They definitely made the dance more entertaining.”

Campbell shook his head. “You two are getting along now and talking in codes, what the fuck did I miss in Amphibia?”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 2

Kavanaugh was smiling as Cass slid a massive waffle in front of him at the counter, grabbing the cup of butter next to it and slathering it across the breakfast. “Thank you Cass, it looks perfect.”

Cass shook her head. “You guys say that about everything I slide your way, but I do appreciate it.”

Durand barely managed to speak through a mouthful of eggs and bacon. “How long until Sunset leaves for university?”

“Next month,” Cass answered. “The house’ll feel lonely again, but at least I’ll have the cats.”

Kavanaugh didn’t look up from drowning his waffle in syrup. “Cats?”

“Oh, Sunset brought a cat back with her,” Cass answered. “His name’s Scratch, a bit of a jerk but hey, that’s every cat, am I right?”

Durand thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Rainbow must have missed an episode.” Kavanaugh was too busy filling himself with waffle to agree.

The rest of the diner was filled with the three teams. The platoon were all enjoying the hearty breakfasts on offer after being unable to partake back home. Baptiste and Lena chatted with Ricci and Brodeur over movies, which Ricci becoming rather emphatic that distinct genres were necessary even as the old barriers between them broke down. McCree was busy regaling Lee with tales of the American west, of roaring choppers through the desert with nowhere to go and everywhere to be. Mei and Gunner laughed and talked, the chief devouring a massive breakfast as the good doctor made do with some eggs and toast. Reinhardt held court close to the pinball machine, the Germans clustered around him as he brought them along through his memories to his journeys across Deutschland. It was all prelude, of course. No one present was under any illusion that the next few weeks would be madness of a kind they would sorely despise. Still, as he devoured his pancakes, he savored the moment. After all, they had some time to enjoy.

Parker and Bruiser both signed for the ion cannon as they took the case from the armorers. “Planning on taking out more giant robots, sir?”

“Nah, just some real ugly sons of bitches,” Parker answered. “How’s the unit coming back from everything?”

“Eh, lotta work on the weapons,” the armorer admitted. “Plenty of mud and dirt and shit, I suppose that’s what you get fighting in a giant swamp.”

“Aye, at least you lot could stay here,” Bruiser chuckled. “So, I’ll go first then?”

Parker grunted as he took the case in both hands. “Sure, I’ll just carry this all on my own like usual.”

Bruiser smiled. “Aye, as long as you recognize it.”

Campbell watched as Gen. Hammond read over the overall operational plan, nodding as he went. “And this should finally secure 1923 for the locals moving forward?”

“They have a full set of teams, all skilled individuals capable of handling what they’ll come across,” Campbell answered. “As long as we can arrange for occasional check-ins, we -- ”

The base speakers barked, "Unauthorized dimensional breach! Security teams to stations!" The conference room froze, then everyone began running for the control room. They arrived in time to see a flash in the center of the lacrima array, and heard...

"AIEEEEEE!" Candace Flynn was flailing about the center of the gateroom, a fresh shriek sounding with each sight of a raised weapon. Then she looked like she was going to wind up for the ultimate shriek, then deflated. "Nah, I'm done."

Campbell and Fareeha were already sprinting for the gate room, Campbell in the lead as the security team slowly stood down. "Candace, what's happened?"

"Oh my gosh, Campbell, it's New York!" Candace said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Xanatos is saying he's taking over!"

Fareeha shook her head. "Taking over? What are you talking about?"

Candace glared at the two. "What, you think I know what's going on? Dicker just told me to find you and tell you we need you back, now. Capt. Amelia is already getting the teams ready, but before I left I heard that some other bunch of lunatics are fighting inside the city."

"The Freemasons," Campbell muttered. "Has Xanatos gone any further?"

"No, he's prepping for the Broadway musical," Candace snarked. "C'man, we're burning daylight here buddy."

"We aren't going anywhere until we're ready," Campbell said, turning back to the door. Seeing Gen. Hammond walking in, he said, "Sir, we need to get teams 4, 5, and 6 to the armory and ready for transit. Xanatos made his move."

"Understood captain," Gen. Hammond said. "I'll have SG-1 on standby as well."

Campbell nodded, turning to Fareeha. "Get Echo and Zenyatta, we need all hands for this. Parker, how good is Bat in urban operations?"

"They cleared El-Agamy in three weeks," Parker growled. "I'll get moving."

Campbell nodded, then turned back to Candace. "Get a bite to eat, tell Gen. Hammond everything, then you'll tell us what you know. Is that understood?"

Candace nodded, grinning now. "Yeah, now let's go and bust this guy!"

Pres. Martinez was busy juggling phones in the Oval Office, currently fielding a call from the governor of New York. “Yes, we’ll make sure that whatever resources are needed are sent your way,” he said. When he saw one of his staffers waving like mad. “I’m sorry governor, I have to take another call...Yes, of course...I’ll call back when I can, goodbye.” Hanging up, he saw the staffer flash the line and answered. “Martinez.”

“Ah, Richard, it’s good to talk to you again.”

Martinez tensed up. “David, I was wondering when I’d hear from you. I’d like to think that what’s happening is some kind of publicity stunt for a new product launch.”

“If that’s what helps you cope,” Xanatos answered. “Though I’d prefer not to lie to you about the matter.”

Martinez was silent, then put the call on speaker. “David, you recognize that this is not going to end well for you.”

“I’m not sure what you can base that on, Richard,” Xanatos mused. “Wouldn’t you prefer to hear me out?”

Martinez leaned back in his chair, glaring at the phone. “I’m listening.”

“My terms are plain,” Xanatos said, almost sounding bored with the entire conversation. “From this moment onward, the island of Manhattan is my sovereign and private state. However, the other boroughs should be allowed to join if they so choose and be recognized as such.”

Martinez stared at the phone. “Is that all?”

“We can negotiate the details later, for now those are my key points.”

Martinez glanced about the office, noting the glares of the staffers, cabinet staff, and military officers all focused on the phone. “David, I have to ask if you’ve really thought this through.”

“Of course I have,” David noted. “I never have to split my attention to worry about elections.”

Martinez rolled his eyes, then took a moment. “Mr. Xanatos, I think I should note a very important point. This nation has dealt with multiple attempts by those within it to secede from the political and social bonds that hold it together. It has never historically ended well for them in the long run. I trusted you to help us right the ship of state, I knew you were the most capable individual to help this nation do what was needed to recover from the crises we were facing. So, David, you have a chance right now to cease this and pull back from the brink.”

Silence, then a chuckle over the line. “I’m sorry Richard, but I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to accomplish here.”

“Then this conversation is over,” Martinez said, his voice no longer carrying any trace of levity or cordiality. “As of this moment, any territory you claim is considered a threat to the United States and its citizens.” Hanging up, he turned to his staff. “Get me the attorney general, I want proceedings started to seize all Xanatos Enterprises assets. Tell State that we require our allies to assist, and that we will coordinate with them to ensure there is no threat to their own safety. I’m going to call the governor again, we’re going to ask to federalize the National Guard and deploy the Army and Navy in conjunction with the Coast Guard.” The entire office was left staring for a moment, until Martinez blinked and said, “Now? Please?”

As the staff all jumped to work, he sat back down and grabbed the phone. Dialing his chief of staff’s office, he said, “Get me Agent Dicker in the BLRKW.”

The gateroom felt crowded at the moment. First platoon, all armed and kitted out. Dead Six, loaded with everything they could need for a fight and hefting the crystals needed for an array in the field. Overwatch, all armored and ready to move.

“Capt. Campbell.” Turning, the captain saw Gen. Hammond walking up. “I’ll have all teams notified and ready to act should you need support.”

Campbell nodded. “Thank you sir. We’ll most likely remain with the BLRKW after this is resolved, proceed from there to Oregon.”

“Understandable,” Gen. Hammond noted. “If you need anything further, come back and let us know.”

Campbell nodded, then turned to Fareeha and Parker. “Operational command?”

Fareeha nodded. “All you.”

Campbell took a breath, then barked, “Three minute intervals! First squad, on the array and ready to go!”

Sadusky watched the footage coming in from Van Cortland, the chaos unfolding as Xanatos finally made his move. He’d already called to Camila and Lilith, telling them to keep the kids calm and to stand easy. The National Guard had been mobilized and was already forming a perimeter with the state police, as the Coast Guard sent two cutters to hold the water. A textbook response. Nowhere near enough for this.

His phone rang. Grabbing it from the pouch on his chair, he saw there was no caller ID. “A freeman answers.”

“The temple...is fallen…” the woman on the other end gasped, as the sounds of chaos ripped through the speaker. “Babylon...burns the city…” A crash, then a sound of a blast followed by a defiant cry. “Who will help the widow’s son!”

The call cut out. Taking a breath, Sadusky stared at the phone before turning off the TV and rolling to his door and dialing again. “Peter, donde esta, what’s happening now?”

“Camila, I need a ride,” he said, grabbing his go-bag from the closet by the front door. “I’ll pay for gas.”

The calls were out, a thousand phones ringing no matter the time or place. In a thousand homes and offices, the words were spoken: "Who will help the widow's son?"

Almost as one, the answer, "A free man."

"Babylon rises. Nebuchadnezzar marches forth. Rally to the land between two rivers."

As one, men and women walked off the job with little more than telling their bosses and supervisors they had a family emergency. Plumbers apologized, but they had to leave their work unfinished for now and they'd make sure someone else could pick up tomorrow. Paralegals rose and strode out of courtrooms, joining court clerks and bus drivers as they made their way to their rally points with office workers and bank tellers. Airline pilots that were trying to rest were roused and sped for the nearest airport. There they met crew chiefs who had already prepped planes that had been held in reserve. The airlines would bitch, naturally, but some things were more important than share prices. They pulled up to the airports, finding their parking already prepaid by their fellows in the offices. Carrying small bags, they moved to the entrances that the public could no longer use. The gates onto the tarmac that allowed direct access to the hangars, opened by their fellows bearing TSA uniforms. They loaded up into jets from across the country, fueled and ready to fly to LaGuardia and JFK. Air traffic control was only told that these were priority flights, with all the proper codes and clearances to allow them priority to take off. Unable to argue, or for some knowing that they had to stay behind to facilitate the movement, they gave clearance and sent the flights on their way. On arrival at LaGuardia, they filed out and donned their dress. Aprons of blue, purple, white, and gold. Signet rings of the compass and square, some even carrying swords or bearing red fezzes. As the New York State Police were trying to coordinate with whoever they could find running the NYPD, the lodges took their positions right at the border between the city and the county. All except Staten Island, because they all knew which way the wind blew on Staten Island.

They saw them approach, the soaring forms and rocket boosters of the attacking horde. They were coming close, roaring their challenge as they soared over Van Cortland. The police and state troopers tried to direct civilians away, some trying to draw a bead on the threats, firing when they thought there was a shot. Yet the pistol rounds did nothing; buckshot bounced off; even the officers carrying carbines in their cruisers realized the rounds were useless against robots and monsters. The beasts began to land on the pavement and buildings, tackling their uniformed foes and ready to kill.

With whispered words and signs, they were blasted away. With spontaneous gales and incarnate strikes of lightning, they were held back. Power lines snapped and whirled on the street, some catching a threat in the coil before electrocuting them. As frying flesh and scorching metal filled the air, the masonic line held. The monsters wheeled on the new threat, charging the masons with bloodlust in their eyes or cold analytics marking them as the more dangerous foe. The men and women bearing swords cut through their enemies, others were shielding with invisible powers beyond the ken of the majority of humankind. Yet there were losses. An older Shriner's arthritis flared, and before he could shield himself he was speared by claws. A mother of two was too slow to realize an enemy had flown behind her, beams of red light cutting her down as she saved a child from being taken back to Manhattan. A master mason used his last breath from pierced lungs to call out and send the shattered glass from the front of a store at the faces of two foes, forcing them back from the civilians inside just before he bled out.

As the civilians fled and the police organized, Peter Sadusky rolled up in his own regalia and surveyed the scene. "Dios mio," Camila whispered, staring out on the chaos. "This is what Xanatos wanted?"

"It’s what he thinks will cow us," Sadusky muttered, gripping his wheels. "You should go home now, I’ll be fine."

“Oh no, not a chance mister,” Camila said. “Lilith will be fine on her own, but if this is happening that means Agent Dicker will be here soon. If Luz is coming with him, I need to talk to her and the kids.”

Sadusky grinned, rolling for the line. “I won’t stop you.”

In the middle of the chaos in Manhattan, one man was still shepherding people into the Tipton's doors. Norman the doorman was practically shoving people inside, he'd deal with Moseby's questions later. As gunfire rang out down the streets, he saw more forms in the air, approaching fast. With a breath, he stood before the doors and threw off his gloves. Donning his signet ring, he whispered. Then at once, a massive shield formed around the Tipton. Not a barrier, but a cloak. A trio of jet boosters soared straight past, and missed everything. Like the hotel didn't even exist. Which was good, because Norman felt the wind knocked out of him and fell back through the revolving door into the lobby.

"Norman!" London's voice hit his ears, and he felt her pulling him to the nearest chair. "What's wrong? What's going on out there?"

"Don't...Don't let anyone leave..." he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. "We're safe...don't let anyone leave..."

Before London could ask any more questions, her babies snarled at the door. She gasped, dragging Norman back as she saw the creatures wrecking the city. “Right,” she whispered. “D-Don’t let anyone leave.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 3

Kavanaugh and his squad sat in the conference room in Area 51, the whole of Argus joining them. The younger teams were seated toward the front, especially Team Springfield and Team Duckberg. There’d be no goofing off in the back of the class today. Of course, with things like they were, he wondered if maybe even those troublemakers would be too focused to cause any ruckus.

Dicker stared straight into everyone’s eyes as Mindy set up the video on the screen behind him. "We've seen a lot of action all across Manhattan, and its spreading into the other boroughs. NYPD is scattered all to hell, State Police are trying to link up with anyone at the edge of the city, and the governor is turning over the National Guard to be federalized. Almost all of Midtown is a burning wreck."

Campbell had to ask. "Status of the Tipton?”

“It hasn't been attacked, and while it is strange I won’t question it for now,” Dicker answered, nodding to Mindy. “Bring up the footage. This was the first announcement that something was wrong.”

The screen showed Xanatos, decked out in his armor mimicking Goliath’s body, metal wings and all. “People of New York City. I, David Xanatos, have an announcement to make. For the past year, you’ve all witnessed how the mismanagement and incompetency of the federal government has only made life harder for the average citizen. Food prices continue to rise. Once vaunted institutions failing to do anything for the common man and woman. Crime is rampant, as the police turn into thugs.”

Kavanaugh sneered at the words. Granted, by now he and everyone else in the room knew Xanatos’ game. He could see it all in the presentation, how the angle of the camera framed him as towering over all in front of a clear blue sky behind him in his personal office in the Wyvern Building. Fox stood next to him, not draped over him like a prize but beside him as an equal. Owen stood to the left, emotionless and still dressed in his suit and tie. Everything in its proper place. Except there was something else, a music playing that somehow made the entire display surreal in how calm it felt.

“As of this moment, I am declaring New York City a sovereign state under my direct authority,” Xanatos proclaimed. “All those who willingly join will receive all the benefits and privileges under my leadership. Those who do not wish to accept these conditions may be allowed to leave under escort. Those who choose to resist or create undue strain and danger to this effort will be met appropriately. I will be deploying my own personal security forces to facilitate this transition. All further inquiries will be answered once the situation has been settled. Thank you all for your attention to this matter.”

Parker spoke for everyone. “Fucking bastard.”

“We managed to get this at the start of the attacks,” Dicker noted, nodding to Mindy to play the next clip.

The footage was of Travis Marshall on the street, surrounded by a crowd as police and fire department sirens wailed. “Manhattan residents are still trying to determine if what they heard is some sick prank or an actual declaration of secession from the CEO felon. The mayor’s office has yet to comment on -- ” That was when the screams started, at the camera turned at the sounds of rumbling stone and crashing metal. The lens focused on the top of the Wyvern Building, specifically on the fact that Wyvern Castle was now alight with magical runes and rising above the skyscraper. A massive plume of dark figures began to emerge from it, as Marshall tried to narrate the scene. “Ladies and gentlemen, it appears that the Wyvern Building is, is doing something! There appears to be something coming out of it, we don’t know what it might be -- ” Before he could say anything else, the entire island began to shake as the dark flying figures fell to the ground.

It was a Steel Clan robot, the matte-gray facsimile of Goliath crashing into the street with silent fury. Two cops tried to answer, but their rounds bounced off the metal armor as the robot turned to face them. Raising its arms, it fired just as the two cops jumped away. Their patrol car, however, was made a fireball from the blast of the laser. More robots came landing among the crowd, the few police present trying to fire on them to at least do something. One cop car went careening into a bot, but even that was a futile attempt. The bot’s upper body was still functional, raising its wrist at the windshield. The two cops inside barely jumped out of the car as it became a rolling bonfire. If that had been it, Kavanaugh would’ve accepted the situation. Unfortunately, more monsters arrived.

A second wave of monsters landed, mutates all made to bear the heads of jaguars, the wings of golden eagles, the armor of a rhino, and the physique of young Schwarzenegger. They began grabbing the cops, subduing them in short and brutal snatches as others herded the civilians together. Two mutates landed before a fire engine, Campbell watching as one of the firefighters tried to swing an ax at the beast. It answered by catching the blade in its bare paw, before kicking one of New York’s bravest back into the pump controls as the others went after the rest of the engine’s crew. The panicked screams of civilians echoed through the speakers, but Campbell noticed something else. Before one of the mutates seized the camera, it caught the image of a massive humanoid shadow rising between the skyscrapers. It didn’t look like there was a head at first, until Campbell realized he saw two pinpricks of red where the eyes would most likely be.

Dicker stepped forward again as the lights came up. "The order should be coming down any minute to go assist. We aren't about to let that lunatic think he can just carve up this country as he sees fit.”

Campbell nodded. “Whatever we can do to assist, sir.”

Dicker smiled, until he felt a buzzing in his pocket. Grabbing his phone, he tapped on the screen and motioned for everyone to go quiet. “Dicker...Yes Mr. President...Yes, we’ve seen what’s happened...They’re actually here now, sir…” Dicker smiled a little. “A little initiative sir...Yes, we’ll get right on it.” Hanging up, he turned to the assembled teams. “Capt. Amelia, I want teams Groom Lake, Austin, Middleton, San Fransokyo, Manhattan, and our FBI attaches ready to move.”

Luz shot up from her seat. “Alright, what about us?”

“You’re all staying here,” Amelia announced. “The situation is far too dangerous for any of you at the moment.” Then, before Luz could argue, she barked, “That is not a cue for you to argue.”

“She’s right Luz,” Campbell noted. “Xanatos is playing for it all now, we have to believe that he won’t hold back no matter who he faces. Candace?” The teen looked over in surprise. “You’ll need to keep an eye on these younger teams. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

Candace nodded, then leaned toward Luz with narrowed eyes and a pointing finger. “Just try me punk.” Luz flinched, backing away as she realized that someone was in fact just as crazy as she was.

“OWCA already has transports waiting,” Dicker noted. “What do your teams need, captain?”

“Two questions answered,” Campbell replied. “First, we need to know what that creature was among the skyscrapers with the two red eyes. Second, we need to know what his plan revolves around. Has anyone gotten in contact with his father?”

“Bureau’s already got agents en route to his location,” Charlie Francis replied. “Dawes is already taking her team to talk to him and see what else he can tell us. When they’re finished they’ll meet us in Yonkers.”

“As for that creature, we’re still not sure,” Dicker admitted. “USGS reported that a minor earthquake registered on their seismographs, and that something is moving around there that’s powerful enough to leave a trace.”

Kavanaugh joined the entire platoon in racking their brains, but no memory sprung forth. “Then until we get eyes on the beast sir, we can’t even begin to make a guess,” Campbell admitted. “Still, there’s only one way we can know.”

“Agreed,” Dicker said. “Then if there’s nothing else, let’s get you all moving.”

Elisa hid behind a dumpster three blocks from her apartment, trying to ignore the screaming and terror around her. Every few minutes a fresh herd of civilians would go sprinting down the streets, either begging for someone to help or that “they” were right behind them. Sometimes the mutates and robots really were pursuing them, other times they were just in a panic. The gunfire had died off now, but every few minutes she could hear a few fresh shots before the shooter was inevitably silenced again.

The attack had been swift, merciless, there hadn’t even been time to get a call out to anyone off-duty before Manhattan was overwhelmed. The skies were still filled with soaring figures, either mutates looking for prey or robots on patrol routines. She’d had to watch it all, watch as civilians were herded into apartments by force. A fire engine lay overturned in the middle of the street, but the firefighters had been taken to who knew what fate. She shuddered to imagine what had happened in the precincts on the island.

She checked her watch and nearly swore. It was still hours before sunset, the most she could do was throw a blanket over Goliath’s stone body and leave a radio with a note taped to it. Knowing Xanatos, she’d be a target. If they didn’t find anyone, then there was no need to destroy anything. At least Cagney would be safe. Xanatos was insane, but he wasn’t that petty.

“Attention residents of Manhattan!” The voice was too human to be a mutate. Poking her head just above the dumpster, she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. A group of men, practically swaggering down the street, one of them hollering into a bullhorn. “We are informing you that this area is now considered under the control of David Xanatos. Any and all actions taken against his authority will be met with immediate and effective response.”

Elisa recognized the man with the bullhorn. She’d arrested him seven months ago on suspicion of trafficking weapons for Tony Dracon. Now he wore a gray suit with an X over his left breast, hoisting a particle rifle like it gave him actual authority. Suddenly her sidearm felt like a peashooter. Hating herself yet recognizing the situation, she remained behind the dumpster.

“Soon as this is over Goliath,” she muttered. “You’re done turning into stone.”

Kavanaugh had a hand gripped around his rosary as they flew over the Midwest. True, he wasn’t praying at the moment, but then if the Virgin Mother needed prayer that constantly then nothing would ever get done. Odds were that she had a sense of some kind on who did and didn’t need her intercession the most. So obviously she was undoubtedly making a very strong case not only on his behalf, but all Manhattan.

“It has to be immortality.” Shifting, Kavanaugh looked to Durand. “One of his primary goals was to have eternal life, and an eternal life that he could enjoy to his fullest ability.”

“Aye, not wrong,” Kavanaugh admitted. “Except how does he plan on carrying that out? There’s a few ancient items that could make that possible in Irish cycles, but that doesn’t narrow anything down.”

Durand thought for a moment. “None of the Irish gods have anything that could align with his goals?”

“The Morrigan was a goddess of death, but she preferred warriors, soldiers, Xanatos is neither,” Kavanaugh answered. “Brigid was a goddess of creation, not specifically life, and there aren’t any specific objects tied to her.”

“Maybe it’s a Christian relic instead,” Durand suggested. “Were there saints other than Patrick that were able to work miracles?”

“Twelve apostles,” Kavanaugh noted. “But only a few have any miracles to them, the rest were missionaries and preachers, nothing that Xanatos would care about.” Letting out a groan, Kavanaugh slid back in his seat on the transport. “Bloody Xanatos, it’s not enough he could simply buy the world, he has to have it without paying for it?”

Durand shook his head. “Careful Brodeur doesn’t hear you.”

Kavanaugh chuckled. “Right, right. Bloody madman. Well we know that Alexander is either the key to it all, or the primary objective. Demona spooked him.”

“Oui, and he won’t let Fox out of the castle, the more defended his heir the better.” Then Durand paused, and asked, “Do you ever wonder why he cares so much about an heir when he also wants to be immortal?”

Kavanaugh sighed, trying to shut his eyes. “Ask the captain why self-centered bastards still want to have children.”

It was late in the day when Dawes’ team rolled up in front of Petros Xanatos’ old house. Already there was a forest of news vans out front, barely kept back by the local cops, a few deputies, and at least four Maine State Police officers. Barely driving through the small horde of press, the agents flashed their credentials and were directed to park in front of the house, the driveway was already occupied. Moving from their SUV, the agents made sure to keep their faces from the cameras as they made their way inside.

The agent inside nodded to them, then motioned toward the living room. Petros sat on his couch, head down as one agent stood by him as another manned the kitchen. Stepping forward, Dawes said, “Mr. Xanatos? Agent Dawes, we spoke before about -- ”

“I remember you,” Petros muttered. “What good do you think I can be now? My son has made his choice.”

“We know that sir, but we still need to try and put a few things together,” Dawes said, moving to face Petros. The man was obviously broken by what had happened, given the TV was off she’d guessed he’d had enough of watching his son spoken of as a traitor. “Sir, we need to try and understand him better.”

“What is there to understand,” Petros spat, turning his head away. “Ever since his mother died, he was lost to humanity.”

Well, it was as good a shot as any. “I’m guessing it was a hard time for you too.”

Petros scoffed, shaking his head. “Stomach cancer. Have you ever seen that before? It is a terrible way to die. She could barely eat by the end, she thought that it was simply a virus before she went to the doctor. By the time they realized what it was, they said the most they could do was try to operate.”

Dawes dared to sit down, glancing at her teammates before asking, “David was young?”

“He was only a boy,” Petros whispered, covering his eyes. “I had to provide for the house, that meant leaving him and setting off to fish. The nurses, they would tell me that David would wait in the hospital with my wife. He never wept, he never spoke, he simply sat with her. Stared at her. Watched her…”

Even if Petros was caught in his pain, Dawes was absorbing everything. “It’s alright, sir. Did he ever talk about it?”

“No, no neither of us did,” Petros admitted. “I was never one to accept emotions of that sort. David, though, David never wept.” Something seemed to flash in Petros’ eye as he looked up and muttered, “What kind of boy does not weep when his own mother dies?”

Dawes knew what kind, but decided to lie for the man’s sake. “I wish I could tell you.”

The transports landed north of the city in Yonkers, taking turns to touch down on the baseball diamonds of War Memorial Field. Except instead of police, they were met with a collection of individuals wearing aprons with compasses and squares on them, some bearing swords along with the more rational pistols. “Capt. Campbell?” one of them asked.

Campbell nodded, taking the sight in stride even as Capt. Amelia and her teams seemed to stare in disbelief at the group. “Aye, Mr. Sadusky?”

“He’s waiting for you,” the freemason said, gesturing to several vans. “This way.”

Campbell nodded, motioning to Reinhardt. “Some of our team will need specialized transport.”

“Already en route,” the freemason answered. “A flatbed is being secured as we speak.”

Campbell thought for a second, then turned to Durand. “Corporal, your squad goes with Galahad and Reginleif. Everyone else, in the vans.”

In a distant ancient forest in Europe, there were the sounds of combat ending. Spell blasts wrecked the gnarled, creaking trees. Leaving only on figure in the midst of a scorched valley amid the blackened trunks and smoking weeds. Magica De Spell was breathing hard, but she’d done it. She’d finally vanquished the shades that thought they could take their revenge on her. With a final breath, she straightened herself out, ran her hands through her hair, and summoned her staff to her side. “Well, that was rather annoying.” Brushing her arms off, she cast a scrying spell and smirked. “Oooh, that amateur thinks he can take over Manhattan? Oh, the New World has such quaint ideas. Well, I’ll let them have their fun.” With an evil grin, she roared, “And then I’ll make sure to visit Lena and her friends after what they did to me!”

Kavanaugh pondered the situation as they drove, another New York City taken over by lunatics convinced of their own superiority. Glaring to the south, he saw the smoke still billowing high over Manhattan. Helicopters flew up to about a kilometer off the island, Xanatos must have already put up anti-air. The Coast Guard already had a cutter on station, but he noted that while there were plenty of federal assets, the NYPD was light on the ground.

What caught him by surprise were the sheer number of Freemasons at the quarantine perimeter. They were fully dressed now, aprons and regalia that he could only guess had some kind of arcane wards to keep them all safe. As the vans pulled to a stop and the teams unloaded, Sadusky was already rolling up to meet them. "Was wondering when your people would get here. What took you?"

"You try driving through traffic this time of day," Parker fired back.

Sadusky chuckled, turning to the Argus teams. "Captain, good to meet you."

"Mr. Sadusky, yes your former team had quite the tales to tell about you," Amelia said. "A pleasure to meet the man that made them."

A quick shake, and Sadusky nodded to a small tent bearing a masonic banner. "This way."

Campbell turned to the others. "All teams, standby until we figure out what's happening." The three teams understood, shifting to wait out of the way of anyone doing work as their leaders moved to confer.

Stepping inside the tent at the center of all the activity, Campbell saw that the interior was at least a mix. State Police, NYPD, and National Guard were all trying to keep communication open while trying to figure out just who was in charge of the response. Yet they all fell silent as Sadusky approached. Except for one member of the National Guard with a colonel’s birds that looked like he was already well and truly done with everything that had been happening. “Sir,” Amelia said, striding up and snapping to attention. “Capt. Amelia Smollett, Bureau of the Like, Really Kinda Weird.”

“Howell, good to meet you captain,” the colonel answered, shaking her hand. “Look, I don’t know what the BLRKW thinks it can do right now, but I’m about outta options and things are looking bad in there.”

Amelia nodded, motioning for Campbell to join her. “Can we try and quantify that statement, colonel?”

“NYPD’s gutted,” Howell answered, motioning for the team leaders to join him at a map of Manhattan hanging from a board. “Precincts are doing their best to organize but it’s taking time. Mayor’s missing, commissioner’s missing, only people we can find are some of the city council that weren’t in town, they were on vacation. Somehow Xanatos knew exactly where and when to grab them.”

Everyone shared a look, realizing how that had probably been made to happen. “Sir,” Amelia said. “Do you have a Xanatos phone?”

Howell blinked, then shook his head. “Dammit, good point. Major! Tell all our units and every police officer, they need to check their phones, get rid of any Xanatos gear they’ve got!” Shaking his head, the colonel nodded and turned back to the map. “Things have been pretty crazy, appreciate it. Okay, second problem, Staten Island.”

Parker scoffed. “That’s a problem?”

“They decided they’d like to be in with Xanatos,” Howell answered. “And from what we’re hearing Long Island likes the idea.”

Campbell looked to Parker, the commando answering, “It’s where a lot of the rich fucks like to live.” Campbell nodded, understanding the point.

“Now, the...civilians that are helping us,” Howell said, staring at Sadusky for a second. “Have managed to help us keep a rough perimeter around the island. Problem is I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold it. They’ve got something in there, something big and powerful. We tried to send some Blackhawks in, and had a front row seat as they were shot down with, with two lasers.”

Amelia nodded. “What has he sent against you?”

“Well, there’s the robots,” Howell said. “Made them to look like stinking gargoyles or some crud, but they’ve got lasers of their own and they can fly over any obstacle. Ugly suckers too…” Howell’s words trailed off as he finally got a good look at Broadway. “Uh, then there’s these creatures, it’s about the only word we have for’em.”

Campbell nodded. “What are the animals involved, sir?”

“Well, they got a big cat’s head, bird wings, I’ll be honest I don’t know much about animals already so don’t expect me to know what these things are made of.”

“Then we would request that one be secured and sent back to the BLRKW’s scientists,” Amelia said. “We can make the analysis a priority.”

“Sure, we’ve got plenty right now,” Howell muttered. “Look, I don’t think I’m making it clear, these things didn’t just attack in ones and twos. By the time we got organized the Masons were already fighting off at least a regiment-sized force.”

“But going off what we saw on the news, that’s a severe under-estimation,” Sadusky noted, rolling up to the map. “And we still don’t know what that giant thing was. Any guesses?”

Campbell shook his head. “No intelligence we have indicates anything similar to what we saw.”

“Then for now we have to keep the perimeter,” Sadusky observed. “Have we had any further word from Xanatos?”

“No sir, and frankly right now I’d prefer not to talk to that walking pile of garbage,” Howell muttered. “Right now I got nowhere for your people to stay, but at this point I think the locals will understand if you take a few hotel rooms.”

Amelia nodded. “Mr. Sadusky, your assistance would be rather helpful.”

Sadusky nodded. “Mrs. Noceda can help you out there.”

Xanatos smiled as his guests were escorted into his office. His desk was flanked by two mutates, both creatures drawing the attention as Fox led them in to the chairs arrayed before his desk. “Everyone, please take a seat.” Some of them glared, some of them kept their eyes down, but all of them did as --

“I’ll stand.”

Well, that was to be expected from the president of the Board of Rabbis. The old alter kocker had always been rather forceful in his attitudes. It didn’t surprise him either, the smirks from the city council member from Harlem or the archbishop of the diocese. Even then, they still sat. “I’m glad you could all join me here, I know things have been rather hectic.”

“Hectic my rear,” the rabbi spat. “What happened David, did you hear that Martinez is finally raising corporate rates?”

“Nothing so mundane as that, sir,” Xanatos said, leaning back with a smile. “Everyone, I think we can all agree that the state of this nation is one of unease. The people have no voice, no say anymore.”

The council member from Harlem leaned forward. “And you’re just the one to give it to’em?”

“Please, I ask that all comments be held until I finish? The fact is that you’ve all seen it. The rise in food prices; the lack of security felt by the average citizen; the continual threat by individuals that cannot be contained or corralled by mundane law enforcement. That is why I have taken this action, you see. The people need, and deserve, a steady hand at the wheel.”

The archbishop rolled his eyes. “Mr. Xanatos, we all know you like theatrics. What’s the actual reason?” The two mutates growled at the man, yet the man didn’t blink. Of course he wouldn’t, not after his missionary work in Central Africa. Still, at least now Xanatos knew who in the group to focus on.

“You see, I believe that we are at a crossroads where the will of the people is muddled,” Xanatos answered. “Too few Americans fully understand the great power they wield at the voting booth. It’s led us all to a brink, and unless those who have the ability to act? We will see the end of this nation and the order which has benefited us all. The Island of Manhattan will be the first stabilizing light of the new age we find ourselves in. Every citizen will have food, shelter, and medical care. They will be educated and developed. No one will want -- ”

“As long as they bow to you and do whatever you say,” the rabbi spat. “We’ve heard this pitch before, David.”

Xanatos shook his head. “Not the way I can carry it out. I have no need for irrational bigotries or prejudices. What matters is ability.”

“Yeah, we’ve all heard that before,” the archbishop chuckled, turning to the council member from Harlem. “Who usually says they don’t see color?”

“Exactly,” the man agreed. “Xanatos, you think anyone’s gonna believe your crap after what we all saw?”

Xanatos cocked an eyebrow. Tapping at his desk, a screen was revealed behind the wall to their right. “What we saw? I ask you, what did we see?”

The screen flashed to life, showing hundreds of Manhattan citizens lining up at an “aid distribution point” in Times Square. The people were receiving sizable boxes labeled as pre-packaged food. The men working the station were even handing out small candy for any kids. There was footage of the mutates rounding up criminal gangs from the worst neighborhoods, right to the waiting cuffs of Xanatos’ henchmen. Of hospitals receiving massive truckloads of supplies, from insulin to ibuprofen.

The archbishop was the first to speak. “Funny, I didn’t know Manhattan had any pharmaceutical plants.”

Xanatos chuckled. “Not yet. With the technology available to my company, and the ability to see what needs are required, Manhattan will be totally self-sufficient from this moment forward.”

“That’s a lie,” the councilman argued. “There’s seventeen major projects on the island, each one needs supplies. You won’t be self-sufficient for more than a week, tops.”

“You forget that my company is part of this island now,” Xanatos said. “Whatever resources are needed can be secured. Iron from my mining interests, finished products from my manufacturing plants, even food will be no more an issue than the air we breathe.”

“Xanatos air,” the rabbi muttered. “And this won’t last.”

“He’s right,” the councilman agreed. “Martinez won’t sit around, he’ll seize everything you’ve got.”

“Domestically, perhaps,” Xanatos admitted. “But what about internationally?”

The screen changed to ABC, George Stephanopoulos staring at the camera. “Already the governments of Russia, China, Venezuela, and Cuba have publicly announced their willingness to recognize the sovereignty of Manhattan under David Xanatos. Further reports indicate that Saudi Arabia, Israel, Egypt, and Thailand will also voice support for the secession.” Well, that wording wasn’t supposed to happen, but he’d take care of that later.

The archbishop laughed. “Reminds me of what my barber told me when I was a kid. You are the company you keep, David. What’d you bribe’em with?”

Xanatos leaned back as Fox moved to stand beside him. “Bribes are such ugly things, sir. I merely made arrangements.”

“That’s it, I’m done, this is farkakte,” the rabbi said. “You said you’d let us go if we don’t wanna be here? Fine, let us go! The bridges are still up, right? Fine! We’ll go, who cares.”

Xanatos turned to the rest of his guests. “Anyone else?”

“You really are an idiot,” the councilman said, rising from his seat.

“Agreed,” the archbishop grumbled. “And I promise you that the Vatican won’t recognize this stupid plan of yours. We’ll be gathering our people -- ”

“Gentlemen,” Xanatos said, holding up a hand. “I said I’d let anyone leave under escort.” That was when a third mutate entered the office, and the three men realized that if nothing else, David Xanatos was truly a man of his word.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 4

Camila sat with the team leaders in their motel room, rubbing at her forehead. “Soy una idiota”

Campbell shook his head. “Eres una madre amorosa que quería ver a su hija. Eso no es un delito.” Taking a slice of pizza from the box, he asked, “So no one saw any footage of Manhattan under attack.”

“No, all we saw was that message he put out,” Camila answered. “Then I get the call from Peter and now I’m here, why didn’t he ask Lilith to drive?”

Parker didn’t look up from his slice. “She have a license?” Camila facepalmed at the reminder. “She’s also the witch. If Xanatos is making a move like this, sorry lady, but a bat ain’t gonna cut it for keeping the kids safe.”

Fareeha looked over. “You’re usually more tactful with civilians.”

“Yeah, well she’s in it now,” Parker answered.

“Can we please stay focused?” Campbell groaned. “Alright, we know that Xanatos is looking for immortality and to make his own little kingdom. What we don’t know is how. Kavanaugh’s been trawling through all Irish mythology and can’t even hazard a guess.”

As Amelia stared in confusion at the slice of pizza, she added, “At the present moment out primary concern should be that Xanatos is acting so blatantly. From our information he typically acts in a more restrained fashion.”

“Aye, typically,” Campbell muttered. “Why he did this is beyond me.”

“Simple, shock and awe,” Parker answered. “He puts on a big show, establishes rapid dominance, but at the same time puts out propaganda to civilians that he’s not a threat. Government looks like they’re overreacting, meanwhile some people start asking whether or not Xanatos is actually a problem.”

“And if he’s immortal he can take all the bloody time he wants to take over the planet,” Campbell sighed. “Fucking bastard.”

Ten rooms down, Kavanaugh’s squad were all devouring a cheese pizza. The shop they’d arrived at had already been stunned by the secession, so their reaction to a group of strangers showing up asking for a dozen large pies was, to say the least, rather confused. Still, they’d followed through after Amelia flashed a government card.

“He won’t take any further offensive action,” Scholz noted. “Too many eyes are on him now, he needs to let the government appear impotent and aggressive.”

“Then why now,” Lisowski pointed out. “Why wait until now to take over Manhattan? Wouldn’t it have been better to do it immediately after we freed him?”

“Too many potential threats,” Scholz replied. “Doris was positioned to his south, she could have easily mobilized a response. Shego had an army of superhumans, Monkey Fist would have had no compunction on sending them to die. Buddy Pine had his robots and villains, AUTO would have sent his chairs…” Scholz trailed off for a moment. “The Illuminati aren’t acting that we can see, only the Freemasons.”

“Still our fault,” Baker muttered. “We cut out their man in the White House, Dead Six annihilated them in Gravesfield, odds are Xanatos decided they weren’t doing their jobs the way he thought they should. So it’s still our bloody fault.”

“We’re still here,” Kavanaugh sighed, finishing his slice. Rising from his seat on the bed, he stretched out. “All of you take care not to eat yourselves stupid.” Walking through the motel, dodging the scattered National Guard members who’d been forced to take up space there as well, he made his way to the parking lot and turned his eyes south to the Bronx. There were still plumes of smoke rising from the city, but they were thinning out with time. The skies were filled with creatures, both mutate and droid, yet no one seemed to want to step out of Manhattan.

“Hey.” Jumping a little, he turned back to see Violet walking up in her new supersuit. It wasn’t like the one from the movie, no orange all over. It also wasn’t ostentatious, no look that screamed the glories of the United States. It was a plain black supersuit, no doubt made to facilitate her abilities to bend light around herself. “It’s something else, isn’t it?”

Kavanaugh sighed, turning back to face the city. “That it is, Ms. Parr.”

“You can call me Violet.”

“Aye, Violet then.”

“So, what do you think,” she said. “What’s his plan?”

“Oh, we know his plan,” Kavanaugh sighed. “What he wants is to live forever. The question is why he decided to go so bloody loud now.”

“Well, what could’ve set him off?”

“The night he had the Tipton attacked, he probably didn’t expect things to go the way they did,” Kavanaugh answered. “He expected to be put in danger, not his own son.”

Violet nodded. “So something snapped that night.”

“A man like that snaps long before something like this happens,” Kavanaugh muttered. “Bastard probably always had a plan for a day like this, that night only forced him to move the dates about.”

“That makes sense too, I guess,” Violet sighed. “Think you’re all ready though?”

“Going to have to be,” Kavanaugh replied. “I don’t think he quite understands how much trouble he’s in.”

“It’s still gonna take time for things to get organized,” Violet mentioned. “I still remember my dad talking about how it took too long for the government to do anything against supervillains when supers got outlawed.” Kavanaugh grimaced a bit. “Yeah, I know, he always had to backtrack when someone got hurt.”

“Least he had some awareness,” Kavanaugh muttered. Watching as another flight of monsters soared over the city, the corporal muttered, “He said he was only going to take Manhattan, didn’t he?”

Violet nodded, then blinked. “Then why’s he sending his monsters out into the other boroughs?”

Before the thought could go anywhere, one of the soldiers with the National Guard ran up. “Corporal, Coast Guard found three survivors in the Hudson, Col. Howell needs your team leaders with him now.”

“Thank you,” Kavanaugh said, turning back to the motel. Then, once he was away from the corporal, he muttered, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what now?”

Deep in their mansion, as the party never stopped in the ballroom, the good doctor watched on the old TV he’d had rolled in the chaos unfolding in Manhattan. Purring at the sight, watching as such fine creations filled the skies and roamed the streets, he began to sew up his latest masterpiece.

“Master,” Riff Raff groaned, the loyal hunchback coming up behind the doctor. “It’s only a car ride away. Should we be readied?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the doctor said, running a hand along the finely sculpted abs of the latest masterpiece. “What do you think of her?”

Riff Raff moved forward, then shrugged. “She should be quite the piece of work.”

“Oh, I do hope so.” Pulling off the gloves with audible snaps, Dr. Frank N. Furter strode proudly to the doors of the body shop and out into the mansion again. “Xanatos is just so dull, even if he does come our way we can have our share of hard negotiations to deal with him.”

Throwing off the surgical scrubs and going back to their best lingerie, high heels tapping against the marble floor, they threw open the doors to the ballroom to see the fun at hand. The dancing, the ecstasy, and of course his two favorite playthings hurrying up to throw themselves down, running their hands up and down the nylon-clad legs.

“Frank! Frank!” Janet (SLUT!) cried out.

“We were good! We were ever so good!” Brad (ASSHOLE!) panted.

“Oh, I know you both were,” Frank cooed, patting them both on the head. “Now come dearies, let’s celebrate!” Striding up to their throne, they threw themselves over it and ran a hand along Rocky’s gorgeous pecs. “Xanatos is the perfect distraction for when Rocky’s new sister joins us!”

“Fucking bastard,” the archbishop muttered. Catching Campbell a bit off guard and getting a chuckle out of Parker. “The rest of them are terrified. You can’t blame’em.”

“I suppose you can’t,” Amelia agreed, looking over the three men now wrapped in blankets holding cups of coffee. “Did he mention anything else? Anything at all?”

“He didn’t say anything else to us,” the councilman spat. “He said that he can make Manhattan self-sufficient, and if those other countries are gonna back him I’m not surprised.”

Parker tapped Campbell on the shoulder, the two stepping back. “There’s no fucking way that’ll happen, Martinez’ll order a blockade, nothing in or out.”

“So Xanatos has to have a way to get around that as well,” Campbell noted. Then he thought for a moment, and said, “Except as a major manufacturer Xanatos would have massive contracts for the military, wouldn’t he?”

Parker sneered. “He could shut down the fucking Pentagon if he wanted to, why not?”

“A damn good question,” Campbell muttered, the pair turning back to the three men.

“He didn’t kill anyone?” Amelia asked.

The rabbi shook his head. “Blew up a lotta cop cars, hurt a lotta people, but no one’s dead yet that we saw.”

“Then why kill the Freemasons here?” Fareeha asked. “And why leave the police alive?”

“Well by nightfall we should have a source of information,” Campbell noted. “Goliath should be able to get out of the city and tell us what he can see.”

“I dunno, that’s a lot of stuff in the sky,” Broadway noted. “Goliath wouldn’t take a risk like that, even if the island is under Xanatos. He’d find Elisa and they’d both try to stay safe.”

“Then we’ll need to send a team to link up with her once we get on the island,” Campbell noted. “But there were no civilians in danger?”

“No, but that’s not saying much,” the rabbi scoffed. “And he’s pumping out that music.”

That caught everyone’s attention. “Music?” Fareeha asked. “What music?”

“Sounded like an old harp,” the archbishop said with a chuckle. “Playing a lot of old Irish songs, reminded me of my grandparents house when they’d play an old record.”

Campbell nodded, looking to Fareeha and Parker. “Curious choice for a man like that.”

For the fifth time that night, Luz threw her hands in the air and groaned out, “We should be there!”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you Luz, we hadn’t figured out your thoughts on the matter yet.”

“Well we should!” Luz exclaimed, shooting up from the floor in the rec room. “They could need our help!”

“Exactly,” Dewey said, clenching his fists. “This is the kinda stuff we should be there for.”

“We’re also still kids,” Lisa sighed. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m fine leaving things like this to the adults in the room.”

Luz’s sarcasm was thick as week-old syrup. “The same adults who break into musical numbers at the drop of a hat?”

“She’s not wrong Luz,” Hunter said. “Things like this aren’t adventures, they’re genuine operations. Campbell and his platoon are going in armed and ready for a fight. They can’t afford to worry about us.”

“What’s there to worry about,” Star said. “We’ve got magic, fighting skills, we’re all pretty tough cookies.”

“Capt. Parker would argue that point,” Amity said. “He’d say that none of us should be anywhere near events such as these.”

“I think we’ve established that guy is just a giant jerk,” Luz grumbled. “He doesn’t know anything.”

The newest voice of the group spoke up now. “What’re you talking about? Parker’s a jerk, but trust me, I’ve seen way worse than him.” Everyone shifted to stare at Anne, who was lounging on one of the couches with a bag of spicy chips. “What?”

“I’m sorry, lemme get this straight real quick,” Luz said, waving her hand at Anne as the other massaged her forehead. “Are you really saying that guy, that homophobic jerk, isn’t that bad?”

“Well, I’m not denying that part, he’s definitely got issues,” Anne shrugged. “But he’s still the kind of person you wanna have around for times like this. When you guys meet my friend Sasha, you’ll see what I’m saying. Besides, Capt. Amari can handle working with him, and she’s not gonna take anyone’s crud.”

“She does seem to have a greater capacity for emotional adaptability in unfamiliar situations,” Violet Sabrewing observed. “For now I propose we simply remain here and observe the situation as it unfolds. If Agent Dicker believes that the situation calls for it, we will be called to assist.”

Luz groaned, leaning her head on her hand. “Well it’s not like we’re going anywhere anyway, not with the warden watching us.” Everyone shifted, turning to see Candace glaring at Luz with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Hey guys, got some food!” Laura called out, walking into the rec room with Jeremy and Stacey carrying pyrex trays filled with lasagna along with bottles of soda. “So, any updates?”

“Nothing yet,” Willow sighed, as everyone congregated to get a slice for themselves. “They just said that there’s a group of...congressmen?” She got a nod from Laura. “A group of them are going to talk to the president about what’s happened.”

Laura looked up as she cut off a square for Gus. “Well that’s gonna be a laugh.”

Marco looked over from his seat. “What do you mean?”

“Xanatos is a big money guy, right?” Laura shook her head. “Who do you think helps congressmen get elected?” Everyone stared at each other as the news went on.

Kavanaugh’s mind raced. “He said a harp, you’re sure?”

“He said it reminded him of his grandparents playing old music on records,” Campbell said, the team leaders gathered back at the motel. “And you know American-Irish love to try and feel connected with the homeland.”

“Aye, that’s true,” Kavanaugh muttered. Thinking for a second, he said, “Úaithne, she was the harper of the Dagda.”

Broadway gasped. The other team leads, however, seemed less impressed. GoGo muttered, “Okay, and the Dagda is…?”

“The god of the Tuath Dé Danann,” Kavanaugh answered. “He was the greatest of them all, even if he wasn’t their king all the time.” Blinking, he muttered, “They said Xanatos wanted to make the island self-sufficient, right?”

Campbell nodded. “The pieces just fell together, didn’t they?”

Kavanaugh nodded, mind sprinting to fit it all into place. “The Dagda had several treasures, not just Úaithne’s harp. There was coire ansic, his cauldron that never ran dry and never left anyone who ate from it unsatisfied. The two great hogs, one always growing fat as the other was being cooked. They’d switch when one was nearly…” Kavanaugh’s eyes went wide. “The staff.”

Parker smirked. “I figured Xanatos only used temps.”

“No, blast it, lorg mór, the great staff,” Kavanaugh whispered. “It had two ends sir, the rough end to take life and the smooth end to give it.”

Everything snapped into place. “That’s how he’ll get immortality,” Campbell gasped. “He’s going to try and use the fucking staff.”

Fareeha had to point out, “If he hasn't done it already.”

“We need to get this to Sadusky,” Campbell said, already sprinting for the command tent. As the team leads came up to the tent, they saw Sadusky and Howell conferring over a map of the Bronx. “The Dagda!” Campbell called out, getting their attention. “It’s the Dagda, he stole the treasures of the Dagda from Ireland.”

As Howell looked around for an answer, Sadusky wheeled around. “You’re sure?”

“The harp,” Kavanaugh gasped. “The harp is the key, he’s trying to use it to keep the people calm in all this.”

Sadusky was still for a moment, then wheeled around and went for the nearest radio. “Put this out as loud as you can, every frequency you can,” he said, grabbing the mic. As the radioman got a nod from Howell, the master mason keyed out, “Xanatos, we know what you took from Ireland.”

A pause, heavy and laden with expectation. Footsteps drew Kavanaugh’s attention to see Dawes’ team running up to join them as the sun began to fall in the western sky. Yet before they could say anything, the speakers crackled to life.

“Master mason,” Xanatos said. “I see the MVTF has arrived.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 5

Everyone glared at radio as Sadusky handed the mic to Col. Howell. The colonel blinked, but nodded as he took the set. “Mr. Xanatos, this is Col. Howell, New York National -- ”

“I’m not interested in dealing with subordinates, colonel,” Xanatos interrupted. “Put Sadusky back on, we both know he’s the one in charge on the ground.”

The three team leaders all glared at the radio. Howell kept his own temper in check, nodding to Sadusky as he handed the mic off. “Mr. Xanatos, that was rather rude, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’ll make it up once my rule is recognized by the government,” Xanatos answered. “And we both know that your organization is the one to facilitate that.”

“That’s not our place to make that decision for the citizens of this country, Xanatos,” Sadusky argued. “You’ll have to talk with the government about that.”

“Did you ever wonder why the Freemasons were so easily outclassed by the Illuminati, Sadusky?” They could all hear the smirk on Xanatos as he spoke. “To have such power and refuse to utilize it, the surest sign of cowardice.”

The insults rolled off Sadusky like a contestant off a rolling log on a Japanese game show. “Why were you attacking the other boroughs, Mr. Xanatos? You said you would let them join as long as they were willing.”

“I was trying to reunite families,” Xanatos argued. “Parents, children, relatives, I couldn’t very well leave them separated because of the federal government’s harsh reactions to my operation, could I?”

Kavanaugh noticed his captain’s fists tighten. Not that he could blame the man. The PAC had used similar “justifications” to excuse their seizing territory in the lead-up to the war proper. How could they leave entire ethnic groups divided by a border? No, better to ensure a single common governance for them all. The Koreans that had escaped could apparently tell blood-curdling stories of the whole affair.

“Mr. Xanatos, you understand that this will not end until you surrender,” Sadusky said. “I can’t speak for the government, but for our part we will not rest until you step down and return Manhattan to the authority of the government.”

“I can see that this will take us nowhere,” Xanatos mused. “Is Campbell there? Maybe I can find a reasonable mind with him.”

Campbell looked to Howell first, getting a nod from the colonel. Stepping forward, he took the mic and keyed out, “Mr. Xanatos, this is Capt. Campbell. We have no authority here, we are under the BLRKW for this operation.”

“Really captain, we both know better than that,” Xanatos chuckled. “Besides that, you’ll need to hear the offer I have for all of you.”

Campbell’s eyebrow went up as he keyed out, “All of us?”

“In exchange for recognition by the members of the Multiversal Task Force, I’m willing to assist against the threats you’re all facing,” Xanatos said. “Just recognize my authority over these boroughs as a sovereign state, and I can help solve it all.”

Campbell gripped the mic tight. “You think you can help us, then?”

“I can help all of you,” Xanatos answered. “I can only presume Capt. Amari and Capt. Parker are with you. You all know my capabilities. Capt. Amari, I have the resources and means to finally uncover the depths of the conspiracy that destroyed the first Overwatch.” Fareeha glared at the radio, sneering at the set like it would actually affect the man doing the talking. “Capt. Parker, my technologies and magical understanding could finally find a way to halt the spread of tiberium, maybe even reverse it.” Parker kept staring at the radio, still as a corpse. “And Campbell, think about it. You know the resources I have at my disposal. Food for the entire EU, the technologies and magics to drive back the PAC, perhaps even one day the means to finally return the world’s climate to where mankind needs it to be. Can you all honestly say your leaders won’t agree?”

Fareeha couldn’t take it. Grabbing the mic from Campbell’s hand, she barked, “I am one of the leaders, Xanatos. You know what my answer is? I’d tell you to fuck yourself with that staff, but that’d be unfair to the Irish!”

Campbell grabbed the mic back, staring at Amari before turning back to the radio. “Mr. Xanatos, we need a minimum of seventy-two hours to bring this offer to the task force’s leadership. Can you guarantee us seventy-two hours?”

Fareeha nearly grabbed for the mic, but Parker held her back. As she turned back to stare at him in rage and disbelief, Xanatos answered. “Very well, captain. Seventy-two hours. As long as you radio back with any delays, I’m even willing to extend the deadline.”

“Understood, out.” Handing the mic back, Campbell turned to Parker. “Can you get word to GDI?”

“Get Gunner, tell him the score,” Parker said. “And send some of your guys here, I’ll work with’em on the radio.”

Fareeha blinked, realizing what was about to happen as Campbell turned to Kavanaugh. “Go back, tell Sgt. Weber I need her and the platoon here now.” Then he turned to Col. Howell and said, “Sir, I advise that you and Mr. Sadusky work together, tell your people to fortify what positions you can and keep your eyes locked on unlikely avenues of approach. I’d also advise you to find, secure, and if necessary destroy any Xanatos-affiliated facilities, buildings, and devices you can. I’d also like to have our teams by your command, ready at the radio.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Howell answered. “But why three days?”

Campbell turned to Sadusky. “Lots of chaos here, sir. No one quite knows who’s where or doing what, do they?”

Sadusky chuckled. “They certainly don’t.”

Stepping out of the tent, he turned to Amelia. “We need to return to our superiors, let them know what’s happened. We already have one team denying Xanatos, that’s a start.”

Amelia nodded. “Understood, we’ll stand by here and wait for your return.”

“Campbell, hang on,” Fareeha said, moving in front of him. “You’re really going to go back and, and let him try to play us like this?”

Campbell grabbed Fareeha’s shoulder, staring dead into her eyes. “Amari, you need to trust us on this one.”

Fareeha stared back, taking a long look at Campbell’s face. There was no sign of mania, no trace that he was going to suggest a crazy musical number or playing to the plot of a show. Was he keeping his mouth shut in case Xanatos somehow still could hear them? Making sure that whatever rules still functioned in this world couldn’t come into effect and stop them? Could she trust that he wouldn’t let himself run rampant?

She nodded. “Okay, get moving.”

Campbell smirked, backing away and holding his hand over his wrist. “I’ll wait for Gunner in the SGC.”

Looking down from the mighty planet Moon, Gen. Lunaris smiled as his sensors picked up the communications zipping about the pathetic natural satellite that was Earth. The apes were running wild, panicking about some kind of great takeover of one small city. Oh, and the humans were in a tizzy about it as well.

“Sir.” Turning back from his console, he saw his loyal subordinate Penumbra stride up to him. “The final squadron of starships will be complete in three months.”

“Excellent lieutenant,” Lunaris said, smiling as he tiled his head forward. “The humans appear to be having troubles of their own.”

Penumbra looked over the general’s shoulder. “Shall we strike now, sir?”

“No, not until our entire fleet is made ready,” Lunaris answered. “We must strike with our full force and fury. You see how the humans react to threats on their own soil. For our operation to succeed, we must land and secure their ball of rock before they can react.” Shooting up from his chair, he held his fist up and proclaimed, “We are the mighty!”

Penumbra mirrored his motions. “We are the Moon!”

Abraham Kane watched as Manhattan was rounded up. Saw through the eyes of the Steel Clan as Xanatos’ thugs went from apartment to apartment, making sure the people inside knew what was happening and what to expect from now on. Seated at the central console inside the Wyvern Building’s operations center, surrounded by more thugs and mercenaries, he tried to focus solely on his work. Xanatos was at least a man of his word, and after this was over he could go back to his wife and daughter. And to his own work, which right now was preparing a similar plan for Detroit to make sure he could call the shots.

“What do you think?” Kane didn’t look up to know that it was Tony Dracon standing next to his console, his loyal consigliere Glasses close by. “S’all pretty wild, ain’t it.”

“Well we all knew Xanatos was a madman,” Kane muttered in response. “I guess he finally hit a breaking point.”

“Sure, breaking point,” Dracon agreed. “Cripes, my guys are having a field day out there.”

Kane nodded, he’d seen how the gangsters had been conducting themselves. Laughing at the captured police, herding them together in their own holding cells to prep for transport to Rikers Island. Seeing them collect everything from the city’s banks and jewelers, under the guise that it was for “economic viability.” As though Xanatos wasn’t already sitting on a fortune in gold and holdings anyway.

Glasses, for his part, was staring at one of the feeds that seemed to be moving steadily through the skyscrapers. Tall enough that it cleared a good chunk of them, even going up to at least the tenth floor of the Empire State Building. “Still can’t believe he put that together.”

“Yeah, a real modern miracle,” Kane sighed. Then a flashing light caught his attention, and he turned to see one of the feeds was taking fire. A group of cops, holed up in a deli trying to fight off the robots that had found them. He watched as the metal monsters flew low, rounds sparking off their armored fronts as the cops tried to give orders to someone in the back of the deli. The robots made an incessant march, heedless of the rounds and even the two shotguns turned against them. They pushed their way into the deli, grabbing the guns even as they were firing. One even crushed the barrel of a shotgun right as the officer fired, the weapon exploding and throwing the officer back. As the other robots took the police into their custody, the lead bot moved to the back of the deli.

There were seven civilians identified; one man, three women, two children, and a crying infant. They all huddled in fear, one of the women trying to stand firm with a crowbar in the face of the metal beast. The robot snatched the crowbar away, before pushing the woman back.

“Tell your people there’s another group of holdouts,” Kane muttered. “Address incoming.”

Weber turned to everyone. “We all understand how we’re going to tackle this?”

“Yes, sergeant!”

“Then take it in turns,” she said. “Lee, Scholz, you’re up first.”

The two nodded, moving up to the radio. Taking the mic, Lee keyed out, “Xanatos, this is Lee, respond, over.”

A short pause, then, “Ah, lance corporal. Is something wrong?”

“Clearly sir, otherwise we wouldn’t be here,” Lee noted. As the radioman smirked, he continued, “We were rather curious how you thought this would end, Mr. Xanatos, over.”

“How it ends is all up to Pres. Martinez,” Xanatos answered. “All I want is to see this city made a sovereign territory. It’s clear we’ve all moved beyond presidents and legislatures now.”

“A curious opinion sir,” Lee noted. “Since it was a president and legislature that were in power during the last major attempted insurrection against the United States. Tell me, how well did that one go for those attempting it?”

“The difference being my efforts are not dictated by foolish notions on who is and isn’t worthy of a place,” Xanatos said. “You all know me, lance corporal. I have no need to useless prejudice.”

“No, but you do have a need to not have the United States military decide they’d rather bomb their greatest city into ruin than surrender anything to a single man that believes he’s surpassed literal gods.” Glancing at Scholz, he got a nod to keep going. “What is it then? Did you bribe the more corrupt senators or did you decide to spend money on the House as well?”

“Nothing so banal as bribery, lance corporal,” Xanatos chuckled. “Why should I have a need? I’ve made it quite clear that I am only concerned with the average American.”

Lee paused, then chuckled. “It’s why you spoke out in support of the strike in Duckberg and called out the LAPD.”

“The people are swayed by emotion, lance corporal,” Xanatos said. “Poison the planet with unpronounceable chemicals, grind them down with necessary bills, they can’t summon up the energy to care. Validate their fears and pain, speak to their hearts over what logic they possess, and you can easily gain an army.”

Lee smiled. “Yet you only have Staten Island?” A ripple of laughs flew through the tent.

“I always appreciate the dry wit of the English,” Xanatos said. “I still know what I want, and no one will halt my efforts. You know nothing can stop me.”

Lee smirked. “What we know sir, is that there is no such thing as no such thing. Out.” Handing the mic back to the radioman, he turned to Scholz. “What do you think?”

“He’s aware he’s not secure,” Scholz muttered. “He knows that when the response does arrive the government will not be gentle. Even if he is immortal he knows he can’t stop entire armies. If he was panicked by the threat to his son and realized that we were almost finished, maybe he felt he was acting before we could turn back from Oregon.”

“And the only thing he denied was bribery,” Lee added. “So what is it that he does have over any member of the Congress who could theoretically run interference for him?” Neither man could answer, nor did they particularly notice or car for the heavy mood in the tent.

The team leaders looked over two maps of Manhattan; one of the surface, the other of the tunnels and subways. “The Wyvern Building is located here, right in the heart of the Financial District,” Dawes said. “And odds are Xanatos has already got things guarding the Brooklyn Bridge and the Battery Tunnel.”

“Meaning we need to put the insertion point northward,” Fareeha muttered. “What about this tunnel?”

“Queens-Midtown, maybe,” Dawes replied. “That or the Lincoln, that way we aren’t fighting through the entire island.”

“Mark those as our primaries,” Amelia said. “If they’re lost, we can try for this bridge, here.”

Charlie Francis saw the bridge in question, grinned, and asked, “Ask it how it’s doing.” The Americans all chuckled at what must have been an in joke. “So, what’d you guys learn from his old man?”

“Fair bit,” Dawes said. “Sergeant, did the show ever mention what happened to Xanatos’ mother?” A shake of the head from Weber. “Stomach cancer. He got a front row seat as she was dying.”

Parker muttered, “Explains why he wants to live forever. Watching that would fuck up anyone. Kavanaugh, any chance that shit could fuck him up because he plays with it too much?”

Kavanaugh shook his head. “Aside from the man knowing not to truly fuck with anything dangerous, the relics he found aren’t cursed or bewitched or the like.”

“Great, so we’ve gotta do this shit ourselves,” Parker muttered. “Fine, what else?”

“With the acknowledgment that we aren’t profilers,” Dawes observed. “Xanatos feels like he can’t be normal. He always has to be the one at the top of everything, that he is the one with the complex plans and high-level actions. He might not have antisocial personality disorder, but saying he’s borderline is more than fair.”

Parker nodded. “So he’s a rich fuck who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else.”

Dawes cocked an eyebrow. “In not so many words? Yes.”

Fareeha scowled, grabbing Parker’s wrist to check his watch. “Seventy hours.”

Parker nodded. “Plenty of time.”

The helicopter touched down at Bat’s base in Italy, Maus jumping off with Gunner and Maj. Granach waiting to meet them. Maus shouted over the blades, “Anything else I need to know?”

“You’ve gotta emphasize to them, we can’t bloody trust Xanatos,” Gunner answered. “He’s a bloody sociopath and schemer, he will use your own problems to benefit himself. We can’t afford to let them think that they can use him to their advantage. You found the reports?”

“All here,” Maus said, motioning to the aluminum briefcase in her hand. “How much longer?”

Gunner checked his watch as they got into a waiting Humvee. “Sixty-five hours and some change.”

Maus grumbled, “Screw it, I’ve got some leave, I’m taking a vacation after this.”

Maj. Granach turned back in the passenger seat as the driver began rolling to the array warehouse. “We have roughly eight-hundred personnel still on base. Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie can be mobilized for deployment in four hours if necessary.”

“We want to try and avoid that,” Maus noted. “Gen. Locke noted that we want to avoid setting a precedent that the task force can simply use any situation as an acceptable reason to move en masse to another dimension.”

Rolling up to the warehouse, Maus was in the lead as she went for the lacrima array. “I have at least ordered Alpha and our comm company to standby. It will be a slight strain on the unit, but they can handle it.”

“Understood sir,” Maus said, dialing the lacrima as she went. “First stop is MV-9.”

“Good luck then ma’am,” Gunner said, giving her a quick salute. “Tell’em what we already know.”

Maus smiled, nodding as she disappeared in a flash.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 6

Kavanaugh stood at the command tent, then grabbed the mic. “Xanatos, this is Cpl. Kavanaugh, over.”

“Ah, corporal. It’s good to speak with you, I was wondering if I’d be able to talk to the man who saved my son.”

“Wouldn’t have had to save him if you hadn’t tried to get clever,” Kavanaugh spat. “So, how does it feel, Xanatos? You’re a Greek, and here you are now. Stealing the treasures of another nation? Using it for what you want? How’s it feel to be another empire in the making?”

“Corporal, really,” Xanatos said, sounding disappointed over the speaker. “This isn’t about any kind of imperial ambition.”

“Bullshit it isn’t,” Kavanaugh spat, glaring at the radio. “You sent that whore wife of yours to my country, to steal artifacts you had no right to take! You’re a fecking Greek, look how they looted your country!”

“My country?” Xanatos sounded bemused by the statement. “Corporal, I was born an American.”

Kavanaugh glared at the radio for a moment. “You really are. Kavanaugh out.” Setting the mic down on the table, he moved to the rest of the platoon. Durand patted him on the back as he settled down next to them all.

“Vogt, you’ll go next,” Kavanaugh muttered. “I’m sure by now you’ve got something?” Vogt nodded.

Becker leaned against an abandoned yellow cab. “He seems to be having fun.” Schneider let out a grunt as she lay on the pavement, head propped up against her helmet.

Durand looked over to Kavanaugh. “What did he say?”

Kavanaugh shook his head. “Typical rich bastard. Thinks he has all the fecking cards.”

Durand checked his watch. “We’ll need to know ours in sixty-two hours.”

Maus was once more at the shrine, watching as Usagi and the other Senshi ran up the stairs. Along with one of the Iranian intelligence officers, the one with the beard, Maus couldn’t recall his name at the moment. “Sorry! Sorry!” Usagi called out. “Haruka’s car wouldn’t have fit us all.”

“It’s fine,” Maus said, turning to the Iranian. “Thank you for the assistance.”

“Of course,” he muttered, staring at Maus like she was insane. Probably because she was still in her Navy service dress in the middle of a Tokyo shinto shrine.

“Usagi, there’s been an incident in 1923,” Maus said, turning back to the girls. “David Xanatos has just launched an attempted secession, he’s attempting to claim he has the right to rule New York City. Teams Four, Five, and Six are present, but there’s a complication. Xanatos claims that in exchange for recognizing his claim on New York, he’ll assist the MVTF against any problems it may be facing.”

Usagi blinked, before shaking her head clear. “He can’t be serious! Ami, isn’t he the one who keeps coming up with all those evil plans?!”

“The reports make it very clear the kind of man David Xanatos is,” Ami noted. “He would step on anyone in his way to achieve his goals.”

Maus nodded. “We’re going to all MV leads, but -- ”

Usagi’s hand sliced through the air. “Of course we won’t agree! He’s not going to actually help anyone, he only wants to help himself!”

“That’s right,” Makoto added. “A jerk like that, all he wants is to get other people to do what he wants. Even when our problems are solved, all he’ll do is hold it over our heads forever.”

“He’s nothing but a monster pretending to be a man,” Minako added. “There’s no way we’re helping him.”

Maus smiled, small but she couldn’t help it. “That’s your decision, Usagi?”

Usagi held up a clenched fist. “The Sailor Senshi will never accept what a man like that claims. We don’t want anything to do with David Xanatos!”

Maus nodded. “Very well. I’ll make sure I bring that to the other leaders.” Turning to the Iranian, she added, “Thanks again for the assistance.” Getting a nod, she turned and went back to the array.

Luna and Artemis went scrambling up the stairs, shocking Hameez as they ran past him. “Usagi, what’s going on!”

Usagi turned around with a bright smile on her face. “Lt. Maus just told us about a problem, that villain Xanatos in 1923 is trying to be clever. Well we told him that we aren’t going to let it happen!”

Luna looked around as Artemis asked, “Where’s the lieutenant now?”

“She’s already gone to the array,” Ami answered. “Don’t worry, we told her that we’ll still back the MVTF’s decisions.”

The cats glared at each other, Hameez noting their reaction to the mention of the lieutenant.

Vogt held the mic as he keyed out, “Have you truly thought out the consequences of living forever, Mr. Xanatos?”

“And what do you think those would be, lance corporal?”

“Memories and time,” Vogt answered. “Even as capable as yours is, even your mind has only so much space for memory and recollection. As the ages carry on, you will find yourself forgetting. A form of dementia where old information is continually overwritten with every decade. Even your perception of time will be altered. Years become months, become weeks, become days, until a century passes by like a summer afternoon.”

“I find it curious that you use that as the comparison when you don’t have any summer afternoons,” Xanatos chuckled. “I’ve already taken steps to blunt such issues. It’s hard for time to feel such a way when all I need to do is find some new task to conquer.”

“Tasks that can put you in danger,” Vogt noted. “What happens if you find yourself crushed at the bottom of the ocean’s depths but cannot die? If you find yourself in space and a rogue meteor collides with your craft? How can you enjoy the fruits of living forever without a body to experience it?”

“I said conquer, not die for,” Xanatos countered. “I don’t need to risk death. I just need to live to the fullest.”

Vogt noted the radioman staring at his set with a growing expression that said he was very much disturbed by what he was hearing. “And the fact that as time goes on, mankind will never truly accept you? Men have overthrown leaders for the price of bread and the inability to rise above their stations, why will they follow you?”

“Because I can ensure they have not only bread, but steady employment and all they need to live as well,” Xanatos argued. “After all, once you can live forever, who has any need for gold?”

Vogt cocked an eyebrow. “And when mankind realizes that you can extend that gift to anyone you decide?”

“Not likely,” Xanatos answered. “After all, who would want to live forever when I tell them all of the suffering that comes with it?”

Vogt glared at the radio, then stepped away.

Master Makarov scoffed as he read over the information in the S-class lounge of the guild hall. “He thinks he can simply claim a city this size for himself?”

“The government has cordoned off the city, but due to the danger to their civilian population they’re obviously hesitant to move in,” Maus added. “Teams Four, Five, and Six are already present to assist.”

“Then they can assist without restraint as far as we’re concerned,” Makarov said. “Lucy, Gray, can I be safe in presuming that David Xanatos cannot be trusted?”

Gray nodded. “Campbell’s reports tell you everything you need to know about a snake like him.”

“He’s the worst kind of rich man,” Lucy added. “He acts like he’ll care, right up until he’s got you in his grip. Then he’ll squeeze you until there’s nothing left.”

“Then he’ll not be able to squeeze our guild,” Makarov proclaimed. “Take this back to your own leaders as well, lieutenant. Fairy Tail will not accept any claims made by such a man. If he persists, and if our allies need help, we will send aid. Regardless of this ‘dip’ that has kept us from assisting before.”

Maus nodded as she shifted to slap her recall. “I’ll make sure all MV leaders are aware, sir.”

Scholz held the mic now. “You want to be a god, is that the plan?”

“Hardly,” Xanatos laughed. “What need does a god have for the world? I’m fine with being a simple chief executive.”

“Yes, a chief executive of a single city,” Scholz mused. “But where does it end? You’ll keep pressing, Xanatos. Eventually you’ll convince Long Island to fall into your domain. Followed by Yonkers, perhaps even part of New Jersey? Or are even your standards too high to accept that state.”

“I think bringing New Jersey up will be a decent challenge for a man with all eternity to spend on the task.”

“And that’s it, isn’t it,” Scholz noted. “The rest of the world will still know you for what you are. You might take some of the United States, but how will you subvert the Canadians? Europe? China alone will be too intelligent to allow you a foothold.”

“At first,” Xanatos agreed. “Yet time and familiarity wear down any misgivings. The first three generations, certainly, will be cautious around dealing with me. Then their descendants will accept my position and my sphere. After that, they may even be willing to do business with me in any aspect.”

Scholz shook his head. “Unite the world under a single leader who knows what is best for all?”

“I’d say I fit the bill by this point, wouldn’t you?”

“You believe you’re the Übermensch, Xanatos?”

“If by that, you mean am I willing to forge my own destiny free of the constraints of what others claim is morality?” A pause. “I’m certainly willing to give it a go.”

Scholz shook his head. “Then I hope you remember what happened to the last men who believed themselves to be the same.”

Celestia and Luna were back in the principal’s office of CHS, the darkness outside a stark contrast to the lights in the room. “I can’t believe it,” Celestia muttered. “He really thinks this is going to be enough to cow a national government?”

“The reports do indicate a certain degree of megalomania in him, sister,” Luna noted. “I’m sure GDI’s own analysis paints a similar picture?”

“We do believe Xanatos possesses a certain pathology similar to Kane’s own,” Maus noted. “His desire for control over all aspects of his own life make that clear.”

“Well we don’t abide by such actions,” Celestia said, handing the report back. “You may inform the rest of the MVTF, and if necessary Mr. Xanatos, that MV-7 and Canterlot High emphatically, and point that out? Emphatically reject the offer made. Along with a warning that any actions he might take in our own universe will be considered a hostile act.”

Maus nodded, sliding the report back into her case. “I understand totally, ma’am.”

“One small thing, lieutenant,” Luna asked, turning back to the window. “Who have you taken this matter to so far?”

“I’ve already spoken to MV-9 and MV-1, ma’am.”

Luna cast an eye over her shoulder. “Their response?”

“They’ve also rejected the offer.”

Celestia leaned forward, smiling as she said, “Then we certainly shouldn’t keep that from the other leaders in the MVTF, should we?”

Maus smiled as she made for the array.

Weber rubbed at her forehead as she stood with the team leaders at the maps. “Nothing is getting through. We know everything that we might need about him and still he hasn’t cracked.”

“Isn’t that just who he is?” Violet asked. “Someone that’s always going to think he’s that much better than anyone else?”

“No, every villain like him has a weak point,” Kim noted. “He’s just better at hiding it than most.”

Parker looked like he was about to mouth off when Shego came barreling into the meeting. “Hey, princess, something’s going on. We figured we’d at least turn on the TV, kill the time, but it’s all talking about this. Well they mentioned a buncha senators and congressmen going to see the president.”

Amelia and Kim looked at each other before Amelia asked, “And you...think this is important?”

“Yeah, monkey-brain left me conscious when he was running the company. Including when a bunch of those same guys wanted to lobby to let Xanatos expand into Texas. He sent me to counter, saying that Xanatos already had a commercial presence in the state, he didn’t need to move any major manufacturing in.”

“Fucking figures,” Parker muttered. “Nod did the same thing, had a whole bunch of assholes bought and paid for to jam up the works all over. Once we had the money mapped out, FBI launched raids all over.” Then he turned to the two FBI agents and said, “Hint-fucking-hint.”

Maus watched as Capt. Hunks once more burned the files outside the Malvin manor. “I see that we have another situation requiring unanimity,” Hunks noted, smirking at her with his pipe still firmly in his mouth. “Any other issues?”

“No sir,” Maus answered.

“Then the only thing I’ll mention,” the old captain said. “Make sure that it’s understood we can’t help if anything goes wrong. We’ll lend whatever support we can, but going too loud on this will make it obvious we’re up to something in the eyes of our superiors.”

Maus nodded. “In this case sir, any support will be enough.”

Hunks nodded back, sage that he seemed to be. “Lt. Malvin, see Lt. Maus back.”

Pres. Martinez was staring at the assembled delegation, not only of Texans but men from Alabama, Louisiana, and Florida. “Gentlemen, let me see if I understand this. You all want us to ignore what’s happening in New York?”

“Not ignore, sir,” an older and “distinguished” gentleman from Alabama noted. “Only to take a gentler course. Mr. Xanatos has certainly enacted an unforgivable crime, but its clear he is not asking for much.”

Martinez stared at the man in disbelief. “No, only our single largest city.”

“Mr. President, we are not dealing with a few bad actors here,” noted one of the junior representatives from Florida. “We’re talking about one of the richest and most powerful men in this country. If we press too hard against him there might be unintended consequences.”

“Unintended consequences,” Martinez groaned, leaning back from the Resolute Desk. “Oh come on, gentlemen.”

“We’re simply stating that this is not a typical act for such a man, sir,” one of the Texans noted. “We need to be sure that there is no other option before taking further action against Xanatos.”

Martinez had to bite his tongue. No matter how badly he wanted to comment on how curious it was that so many politicians from the South were speaking in defense of the secessionist.

Maus watched as Pres. Raiko again read over the information she’d brought him, taking his time to parse the intelligence over. “And we’re sure that this Xanatos character, that he will not be of greater benefit to us than we would be a mark to him?”

“Mr. Xanatos sees anyone and everyone he interacts with as a potential mark, sir,” Maus answered. “We cannot trust him to reciprocate any goodwill.”

Raiko nodded, finally finishing the packet. “Ms. Sato would undoubtedly have something to say about a man like this. I can already hear her telling me the kind of man he isn’t. Tell them other leaders of the MVTF, the United Republic stands opposed to any dealings with Mr. Xanatos, and rejects his claims of sovereignty. We will stand by our allies against him should he continue to take clearly hostile actions.”

Maus nodded as she rose. “I’ll get on that, sir.”

Watching the chaos in Manhattan from atop the Battery Tunnel ventilation tower, Maxim Horvath watched the chaos enveloping Manhattan. Xanatos was at best an amateur practitioner of the craft, not that the Illuminati were much better. Peredur, the little fool, had started the blasted little circle of his only to falter because he couldn’t maintain a leash on his subordinates.

Glancing over should shoulder, he said, “Will they be ready once this is over?”

Drake Stone, his ever-loyal apprentice, nodded. “The correspondence course has them all set, all over the world.”

Maxim nodded, tapping his cane atop the ventilation shaft. “Excellent! You’ve finally begun to rise to a level of competency.” Turning back to Manhattan, he smirked. “And she will be most pleased.”

Pres. Goodfield watched as once again, the names lit up for the conference call. This time his witness was one of his Secret Service detail, the man looking thoroughly confused that he was the one to bear witness to this discussion but accepting that it needed to be done. The last thing anyone needed was a rumor of another intern or staffer being called into the Oval Office in the middle of the night. The networks would have a damn field day with that one.

An offer from David Xanatos to assist the MVTF, and all it would take is allowing him into their universes to solve the problems they faced. The problem being that they all knew he could do it. He could be the man to potentially unlock the riddles of tiberium, end the ice age, and unravel the conspiracy haunting Overwatch. Except Goodfield was half-sure that all it would cost them all was their souls and futures. “Let’s hope the others know that too.”

The other leaders popped up on the screen now, though the Japanese PM was currently forced to join from Busan thanks to this all happening during a state visit with the South Koreans. “Everyone, thank you for joining me so soon again. I apologize for the time crunch but it seems this is a bit of a situation. Mike Victors Four, Five, and Six are currently facing a secession event in operations area Manhattan in Uniform One Nine Two Three. Thanatos is currently attempting secession from the national government, and has put out an offer to those three teams and their leadership, along with all parties part of Everett operations. So far, Mike Victor Five has refused, though Mrs. Arnott believes that teams Seven, Eight, and Nine will also be safe presumptions that they refused the offer as well.”

The German president cocked an eyebrow. “Do we believe that this offer is made in bad faith?”

“No, we do believe that Thanatos will follow through on his offers,” Goodfield noted. “The issue is that after these offers are delivered on, he will ensure that he can extort from those he has aided.”

“Ah, a little usury as well,” the British PM observed. “I suppose that would be rather in line with him.”

“Then we are sure that we cannot trust him?” the French president asked. “There is no way that we can attempt to ensure he does not succeed where he wishes?”

“Analysis from Mike Victor Four makes it clear that he is at best adept at playing others, and our own psychological observations make it clear he is at the very least a case of borderline personality disorder coupled with an extremely high intellect and exemplary capabilities,” Goodfield noted. “Believing that simply knowing him will be enough to counter whatever he does is ill-advised, to say the least. We’re not so smart that we can’t be conned.”

The other leaders nodded, but Fyodor didn’t look quite so enthused. “What if the current operation fails, Reginald?”

“I’ve asked Rainbow to develop a rough contingency plan, not a lot of time for them to prep but after their previous action in Uniform Six One Six I believe they can improvise relatively well given what we know of the situation.”

“Well, I think I’m ready to cast my vote,” the Canadian PM noted.

The Brazilian president nodded. “As am I.”

Goodfield nodded. “Very well then. We all have our witnesses?”

“Aye.” “Oui.” “Ja.” “Hai.” “Da.” “Yep.” “Si.”

“All in favor of agreeing to work with Thanatos?” Dead silence. “All opposed?”

“No.” “No.” “No.” “No.” “No.” “No.” “No.”

“No. All in favor of backing Mike Victor actions against Thanatos’ attempt at secession?”

Almost simultaneously, “Aye.”

“Very well, both votes carry unanimously,” Goodfield said. “We’ll get this to Hereford and to Sierra Golf Command. Any other questions?”

“I do have one concern,” the Japanese PM said. “Can we ensure a plan of action in the event that teams Four thru Six find themselves forced to recall?”

“I’ll pass that along to Mrs. Arnott,” Goodfield noted. “Any other questions? Very well, thank you all for the time.” Shutting down the computer, he sighed and nodded to the Secret Service agent. “Thank you Trent, sorry to bother you about this.”

The agent shook his head, moving to the door. “No trouble at all, sir.” Opening the way out, Goodfield tightened the cinch around his bathrobe and went back to his room. Guilt ever so slightly assuaged.

Brodeur was on the mic now, glaring at the radio. “What makes you think that this will end well for you, Xanatos? Mankind does not bow to tyrants.”

“Incorrect, lance corporal,” Xanatos countered. “Groups of men may stand against a centralized rule, but the vast majority of mankind has little issue with such affairs. So long as their bellies are full and their children are safe.”

Brodeur sneered. “And you think it will be your doctrine that finally succeeds where all other tyrants eventually failed?”

“I don’t believe the vast majority of Chinese emperors failed, only those members of the last days of each dynasty,” Xanatos argued. “Nor did the English truly wish to overthrow their monarchs until the times truly grew dire and said kings tightened their grip too tightly.”

“Except the people are no longer peasants, Xanatos,” Brodeur spat. “No one will bow before divine right any longer, and they will all know you are no good king.”

“Oh, I’ll let the people have their little says,” Xanatos chuckled. “A few elections to send representatives to converse and act on the issues rising from their districts. Of course, I’ll have the final say in such matters. After all, it’s easier to solve an issue like a changing climate when one man makes the decisions.”

Brodeur’s anger began to rise. “So that’s what matters? As long as the workers know their place, you’ll toss them your scraps and build them fine kennels to breed in for your benefit?”

“Really lance corporal, I don’t want slaves,” Xanatos countered. “Slaves can’t contribute to any economy. They need to be maintained and constantly observed.”

“A wage slave is still a slave.”

“Don’t think I haven’t read my Marx either, lance corporal,” Xanatos said. “Opiates come in many forms. I’m a big enough man to take healthy critique and criticism in any form of media. Sometimes it can even help you grow as a person.”

Brodeur shut his eyes tight, realizing nothing was breaking through. “So that’s what you wish to be, then? The ever-living symbol of the ruling class?”

“Hardly, that feels like a great deal of responsibility,” Xanatos countered. “I’m fine simply acting as the chief executive officers of my company.” Brodeur dropped the mic, clearly ready to spout off but holding himself back as he went back to where the platoon was gathered.

“Nothing’s getting through,” Baker muttered. “Bastard’s just happy we’re even talking to him, think he’s enjoying it?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Ricci muttered. “Xanatos probably thinks he’s toying with us. The man has a tendency to act like a cat playing with his next meal when he feels he’s achieved victory.”

Baker scoffed, rising and pacing about the street. “Bastard thinks he’s already won.”

Ricci shifted against the building he was using as a rest. “Surely there are punishments befitting an immortal?”

“Sure, but this is one that has magic,” Baker countered. “Not much we can really do when all it might take is a thought to undo it and for him to escape.”

Ricci groaned, rubbing at his forehead. “Quell'uomo è un vero stronzo.”

“Si,” Baker agreed. “And we still don’t know what that bloody monster is stomping about. You still haven’t thought of anything?”

Ricci shook his head as the dawn kept creeping closer. “I can’t think of anything they made or acquired that has such a creature.”

Baker sighed, kicking at the tire of a forgotten delivery truck. “Me either.”

Fuhrer Grumman read over the files as Maus sat before his desk. “Then it’s the opinion of these other teams that Mr. Xanatos cannot, and should not, be trusted.”

“Correct, sir.”

Grumman nodded, leaning back in his chair but with the clear message that he was no longer reading the information provided. “Then let me pose a hypothetical. Overwatch turned down the offer. We’re still waiting to learn how the Security Council or the EU will respond?”

Maus didn’t show anything. “Yes sir.”

Grumman nodded, playing at looking back over the documents. “And if two of the larger political bodies associated with the MVTF accept his offer, it may not matter that the rest of the teams refuse it.”

Maus did her best to answer without committing to anything. “That could be a fair presumption, sir.”

Grumman nodded, setting the papers down on his desk but not turning his chair to face her. “Lieutenant, I believe that we must be practical about this. That said, I know how our own team will undoubtedly react to any acceptance of such a deal. Pass along to the remaining leaders that Amestris will oppose any current offer made by David Xanatos. With the understanding that future actions could cause a review of our decision. Is that clear?”

Maus nodded, rising and taking the papers back from the desk. “Will there be anything else sir?”

Grumman glanced up at the lieutenant with cold, unfeeling eyes. “Is it clear, lieutenant?”

Maus couldn’t escape giving an answer. “Clear, sir.”

The abandoned Fitzgibbon farm sat silent among the overgrown cornfields surrounding it. Yet still, somehow it drew power and water. How, none of the local teens could say. It was a running dare that you had to prove yourself a real man by going into the same bedroom where Farmer Fitzgibbons and his wife had been found murdered in their beds, touch the still-present bloodstains, and get out.

It was a rumor that had served the rats that had claimed the farmhouse as their own quite well, that few who entered the house survived. The teens were all at home now, leaving Jenner to watch on a stolen smartphone the progress of what was happening in New York City. Savoring the chaos wrought on mankind, he pondered as to what should happen next.

A knock at the door. Smiling as he rose, he opened it to see one of the guards standing at attention. “Sir, the senate is calling for an emergency session. They believe that this could be a future threat.”

“Yes, I had the same thought admittedly,” Jenner observed. “Though fear not. After all, we’ve handled such problems before.” Smiling, he grabbed his cloak off the stand. Next to a section of newspaper clipped out reading, “NO SURVIVORS: National Institute of Mental Health Destroyed In Fire.”

Gen. Hammond paced his office. He’d stayed late, the current situation made it impossible to leave. He’d already gone through three cups of coffee, and he knew tomorrow was going to be hell to get through. Still, he’d gone through worse.

He’d sent the information on to the Pentagon hours ago, and from there to the White House and Congress. Checking his watch, he saw there was only another fifty-two hours to go before the deadline. Even if Xanatos was willing to allow for more time, that didn’t mean the general wanted to necessarily accept such a “generous” offer. Personally, he’d have agreed with Capt. Amari, telling Xanatos where to stick it and where to go. Only her arrival was a matter of record now, and he couldn’t deny it if his superiors asked about her arrival or the reasons for it.

The phone rang, the general snapping it up. “This is Hammond.”

“General, this is Sen. Kennedy.” Gen. Hammond blinked, normally he’d take calls from the president or Air Force chief of staff. “I figured I would call you with an update. After receiving the information we held a call between the Appropriations and Armed Services committees. You’re lucky we were in session at the moment.”

“Yes sir, of course,” Gen. Hammond agreed.

“Well, Capt. Amari will be happy to know that we agree with her assessment,” Kennedy noted. “Reading up on Xanatos, it’s like a how-to list to be a totally reprehensible human being and get away with it. A little hard to believe they let someone like that be a character in a kid’s cartoon.”

Gen. Hammond couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, I totally agree, sir.”

“Now, full disclosure, Sen. Kinsey tried to rally some support on the matter, said that we should at least pursue negotiations,” Kennedy added. “Fortunately for all of us, what with the scandals sweeping the Congress recently, he couldn’t gain enough traction to sway anyone else.”

Gen. Hammond paused, then sighed and hung his head. “I see, sir.”

“Now, all that said, you tell GDI and the EU that we are opposed to this, make it clear,” Kennedy said. “Pat Leahy is already working on explaining the why to the president, but given they’re the ones in dire straits they deserve to understand as well.”

“Yes sir, I’ll make that clear when Lt. Maus returns.”

“Very well, general. And make sure those teams get some rest after this, from the sounds of things they’ll have earned it.”

Gen. Hammond nodded, rapping his knuckles against his desk. “Yes sir, I’ll see to it. Good night sir.” Setting the phone down again, the general rubbed at his eyes and suddenly felt a great weight wrapped around his heart.

Darla Dimple sighed, lounging poolside at her mansion on the French Riviera. “Max, be a dear and get me another drink?” Her cyclopean manservant grumbled, his footsteps shaking the ground with each step.

Staring up at the bright sun beaming down, she pondered her next choices. She could go back to California, of course. With Doom gone the worst of the danger had passed, so naturally it was the perfect time to go back to her typical work. Hollywood would be in desperate need for top-tier toon talent now, and she was all too happy to take such work in stride. And in secured contracts.

“Mees Deemplee,” Max said, coming back to her. Lowering a silver serving tray with a cocktail and cell, he said, “A call for you.”

Sighing, Darla took both, sipping the cocktail before answering the call with her typical affectations. “Hewwo, this is Darla Dimple.”

“Miss Dimple? This is Sovereign Entertainment,” the voice on the other end answered. “We were wondering if you’d be willing to come and speak with us about a part in an upcoming animated feature?”

Darla smirked, taking another savoring sip of her cocktail. “Aw, I’m so honored you’d choose widdle me. I’ll tell my agent to get in touch? Thank you ever so much for the opportunity!” Ending the call, she dropped the act. “Max, start packing my things, we’re outta this dump by next week.”

Gen. Locke sat alone in his office, silent as he waited for the call from the Security Council meeting. He’d already eaten the dinner he’d ordered, now it was a waiting game to hear back from New York. The comedy wasn’t lost on him, given that their UN was currently debating what to do about the fate of a mirror counterpart.

Finally, Locke’s phone rang. “Locke...Yes, Mr. Secretary...Yes, I see…” A smile and a relieved sigh from the man. “Yes, yes sir...I’ll check my email as soon as I’m done here...Yes sir, thank you.” Hanging up, he pulled his laptop open and went straight for his email. There it was, the document in question. Reading it over, he also noted the ending statement and chuckled.

Picking up his phone again, he dialed Bat. “Maj. Granach? This is Gen. Locke. I have an update...I see...Put her on, I’ll send you an email after I’m done.”

“Sir,” Maus said on the other end. “So far, every other member of the task force has replied with no. Fuhrer Grumman’s was conditional, but overall the response has been to reject Xanatos. I still need to get to the SGC and Hereford for their answers.”

“Then you can take this with you, lieutenant,” Locke said, finally smiling for the first time in what felt like years. “The Security Council’s decision was unanimous, we will not take the offer.”

Maus’ own smile could practically be heard over the phone as she answered, “I’ll get that to the other teams now, sir.”

“What about the EU,” Locke said. “Have we gotten any word from them?”

Maus paused. “No sir, no word yet.”

Locke’s cheer was suddenly dampened. “Understood. Get moving for now, and have someone call me the second someone hears anything from the EU.” Hanging up, Locke paused and thought about the implication. Then he turned to his laptop and opened a new email.

Shere Khan watched in his office, the chaos still engulfing Manhattan. Business was understandably slower today, after all the world’s eyes were all turned to the Big Apple. Who wouldn’t want to know what was going to happen next? Of course, as time dragged on eventually those same eyes would turn away. The mind, human or otherwise, fatigued.

“Sir.” He turned to see Rebecca Cunningham step into his office. Stern and cold, she said, “I have the latest figures for the month. Now that we’re in Zootopia’s market, our current profit estimates have been updated.”

“Excellent work, Ms. Cunningham,” Shere Khan mused, taking the offered files. “And our plans for satellite offices, they’ve been updated to factor in expansion to the East Coast?”

“You’ll find the projections already included as well, sir.”

Shere Khan smiled as he turned back to see the TV going on again about how there was no way anyone could have possible seen this coming. “Very excellent indeed, Ms. Cunningham.”

The European Council was used to emergency sessions at any and all hours of the day. It was why no one looked particularly sleep-deprived or befuddled at the moment. Of course, the ability to call upon copious amounts of coffee didn’t hurt either. The current president leaned back, letting the various leaders bounce off each other.

“He’s offering us a solution to both of our most pressing issues,” the chancellor of Austria noted. “We know who and what he is, he will not pose a danger to us.”

“Except we know that’s what he’d like us to think,” the taoiseach of Ireland countered. “The man is a manipulator, he’ll dangle exactly what we want in front of our faces and gut us while we’re distracted.”

“Agreed, we cannot trust anything he offers,” the Polish prime minister stated. “We need to order MV-4 to eliminate him.”

“And ignore a truly reliable source of food?” The Spanish prime minister argued. “What will our oppositions say if they should learn that we denied a resource like that?”

“I know my own wouldn’t be able to argue against taking the soup,” the taoiseach countered. “If we take anything from a man like that, it’s no more than a way for him to wedge into our affairs further and further until they’re his affairs.”

“And the fact that he could reverse the climate change we’ve lived through?” The prime minister of Denmark jumped in. “We could finally begin returning to our homelands. How much longer should we wait for the rest of the task force to finally deliver on their technologies?”

“It would do no good,” the Greek prime minister admitted. “Any massive shift in the climate would still alert the PAC to either an opportunity of suspicion. Whatever he could provide would not be feasible until the PAC forces collapse and the war ended.”

The debate stalled there, everyone turning to the one individual that typically set the Union’s precedent. The president of the council, ever-smiling, leaned forward. “Perhaps Capt. Amari is correct about the matter. If she feels so strongly about David Xanatos, especially given what we ourselves know about him? Giving support to Overwatch on the matter may not be the worst decision.” Even if the man couldn’t vote, they all knew to read between his lines. “Now then, shall we hold a vote on the matter?”

Capt. Campbell had been getting what sleep he could on a couch in a small break room when he’d been shaken awake and told there was an update. Doing what little he could to make himself presentable, he soon stood at attention before Gen. Vollmer’s desk. “The Council has come to a decision,” the general noted. “And given it is an intelligent decision, we should advise the rest of the MVTF not to ignore it.” Campbell dared to smile as Vollmer held out a small sheaf of papers. “The president of the council added that you are free to add your own thought to the matter as well, captain. Do not waste them.”

Campbell snapped to attention and saluted. “Aye, sir!”

“Nothing’s getting through?” Parker asked.

Weber shook her head. “Normally we’d have found something, but it seems Xanatos is resistant to our usual points. We don’t think we have anything that can force him off balance.”

Parker sighed. “Alright, I’m up then. Hey, Fancy Feast, get someone to tell my team to get over here?”

Amelia glared at Parker, but still nodded to Kim. “Ms. Possible, would you be so kind?”

Kim gave Parker the same disdainful expression. “To you, sure. To him?” Still, she went back to the motel where they’d all holed up as Parker went to the C-in-C. Passing by the platoon as he went and getting their attention.

Sadusky was talking over things with Howell when he noticed Parker approach. “Ready to get into the ring then, captain?”

Parker said nothing, grabbing the mic before the radioman could react. “Yo, Dave, I’ve gotta talk to you.”

Kavanaugh heard footsteps coming up from behind, turning to see the commandos were sprinting up to the C-in-C. Along with half of Overwatch, all of them smirking and grinning. Not that he wasn’t with them on that particular point.

“Ah, Capt. Parker at last,” Xanatos said. “I was wondering whether you were here at all. So, what will you level at me? Trying to play to morality?”

“Whatever Dave, I just wanted to ask you something. How long before you think you’ve finally gotten enough money to forget where you came from?”

A pause, then Xanatos answered. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re talking about, captain.”

“Bullshit, we all know who your dad was,” Parker fired back. “Honestly, I don’t think mommy dying is what fucked you up. What did it was never having what you thought you deserved, am I right?”

Kavanaugh could hear it now, Xanatos’ voice was taking on an edge. “That’s a curious presumption to make, captain.”

“Not really, it’s pretty fucking clear the kinda guy you are,” Parker countered. “I mean Jesus, you moved an entire fucking castle into place on top of a skyscraper? Buddy, you’re so far up your own ass your whore probably had to fist you to get any cum to make sure you had a kid.”

“You have no right to speak about my wife that way, captain,” Xanatos suddenly barked. “Frankly this is not the kind of behavior I would expect from the MVTF.”

“Yeah, tough shit,” Parker answered, the rest of him team laughing and chuckling. Overwatch was staring in shock, though Reinhardt and Lena were sniggering right alongside the platoon. “She there? Hey, Fox, how’s it feel to be the richest whore in the world? You know he only bought you because he wanted a kid, right? C’mon Dave, tell’er the truth. We saw it all remember? You love each other ‘as much as two people like us are capable of love’ right? Be honest Fox, if there were guns to both your heads, and they gave him the choice? Who’d he tell them to shoot? Face it lady, the only reason he married you was so he could get a womb with no clue.”

“That’s enough captain!” Xanatos finally barked. “I don’t have to take this, not from you.”

“Why, because of your self-made bullshit?” Parker laughed into the mic. “Yeah, your old man had you pegged when he tossed you that penny, Dave. What, you think that was all you? You didn’t come up with the time travel spell. You didn’t mint that coin. You needed the Illuminati to get that coin to you at all. You’re like every other ‘self-made’ man I heard about. You had other people doing your work for you, and you took all the money for yourself. Your dad worked for a living, and boo-fucking-hoo he had to make sure you still had a home when mommy was dead. Tough shit, life’s hard for everyone, but guess what? Shit happens, and now you’ve gotta live with it. And you know what? I wouldn’t care if you were rich, but just don’t act like this is always how you lived, huh? What’s wrong with dad being a fisherman? What, you’re worried about getting embarrassed when all the other rich fucks hear that one? Don’t like admitting you didn’t have a stack of hundreds coming outta mommy’s hole?”

“Enough captain!” Xanatos roared. “If you go any farther I will make sure that you are going to suffer for everything you’ve said!”

“Yeah, I’ll bet that’s what you tell the guys who try to organize in your company,” Parker scoffed. “That’s how guys like you act. You know you’re only good for crunching numbers and strutting around like a fucking peacock, meanwhile actual human fucking beings are doing the real work. What’s your choice for handling those, Dave? Do you force more overtime on’em? Tell the managers to clamp down on break times for the sake of quotas? Maybe you get some cheap P.I. to find out if they’re drunks or having affairs. Don’t matter if they are or not, you just need to ruin the rep long enough to kill any organizing on the shop floor. That way you can keep cutting the benefits enough, cutting wages enough, jack up the prices enough. Because let’s face it Dave, what are you without the money? I mean the fucking goatee and ponytail? You’d be running a strip joint in Newark, probably whoring out the girls on the side for some extra cash and paying protection to some nobody crew because the actual mobsters don’t want anything to do with you. That’s what your life would’ve been Dave. You’re nothing but a dirty pimp that just got lucky.”

Kavanaugh couldn’t help but chuckle along with the platoon and commandos. Of course, there were other reactions. Angela was facepalming, though everyone noted she wasn’t angry. Brigitte was staring in shock. The Argus team leaders were stunned into silence by the display. Though, he noted, not Sadusky.

The radio remained silent for several seconds. Then, finally, “Captain, the first thing I will ask to have happen once GDI accepts my offer will be to have you transferred to my personal command. And accidents do happen.”

Parker grinned. “Sorry, I’m not into that cuckholding shit.”

Dawes grabbed at her phone, then whispered, “Dicker’s calling, Campbell and the big guy are back.”

Parker noticed the sudden rise in muttering from the peanut gallery, then turned back to the radio. “Now you just sit on all that Dave. We’ll deal with you when we’re ready.” Leaving the mic with the stunned radioman, he turned back to the others and checked his watch. “Huh. We’ve still got forty hours.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 7

“So that’s where we are,” Parker said, finishing the recap for Campbell and Gunner inside the C-in-C. “So, tell the bastard now or later?”

“We’ve still got just under forty hours,” Campbell said, turning to Col. Howell. “Sir, do we have any bodies of the mutates?”

Howell nodded. “They take a lot of fire to down, but they go down.”

Campbell turned to Sadusky. “Has he deployed any further magical threats along with this forces?”

Sadusky shook his head. “Just the mutates and robots have gone off the island.”

Campbell smirked. “Then I think we have a chance. Sir, Mr. Sadusky, can you please advise your force to fortify positions with an emphasis made to aim high for oncoming small targets in the air. Also make sure that you find any Xanatos-marked buildings or affiliated businesses. Blow them to hell.” Getting nods, he turned to Amelia. “Ma’am, can you please position your teams here, Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. Move down this highway along the water, draw attention while we move into the city here, through this tunnel to the south.”

“Queens-Midtown,” Sadusky chuckled. “Well, traffic won’t be that bad at least.”

“I’m sure we can give Mr. Xanatos an appropriate distraction, long enough to at least draw his attention away from the southern tip of the island,” Amelia said. “Though what about handling whatever that massive creature is protecting his fortress?”

“You’ll have to let us worry about that, I’m afraid,” Campbell admitted. “Once we get a good look at it we should be able to understand what we’re dealing with.” He looked up at Col. Howell again. “Sir, do we have any trucks that can carry Lt. Reinhardt to this position? A flatbed trailer if possible?”

Howell shrugged. “Probably gonna have to commandeer one, but we’ll make it happen. Teamsters can bill us later.”

Campbell nodded, checking his watch. “I say we give ourselves twenty hours to move into position. Is that enough time?” Everyone nodded. “Very well. Let’s make this happen.”

99999

Hank Scorpio shook his head, watching as the chaos unfolded in New York from the comfort of his doomsday weapon bunker. “Oh, David. David, David, poor simple David. You only make your demands after the demonstration, not during it.”

His blonde secretary strode up behind him. “Sir, our partners are calling regarding your next plans. They seem to think this latest incident is a sign of potential trouble in the future.”

“Trouble? Ha!” Scorpio spun around in his chair, jumping up and pacing about his control section. “Trouble is opportunity, opportunity is profit, and profit is success!” Spinning around and pointing at her, he proclaimed, “Have you ever seen a successful man turn down an opportunity!”

The blonde, perky as ever, replied, “No sir!”

“Exactly! That’s why you’re the best my dear, you’re getting a three percent raise starting this month.” Jumping back into his chair, he tapped at the control panel and adjusted the angle of the weapon. “Now, you remember Homer Simpson? Of course you do, he was the one who got our systems up and running. I want you to go to Springfield and get him back! Nothing is off the table!”

The secretary paused, then asked, “Even an all-you-can-eat membership card for Golden Corral?”

Scorpio paused, shuddered, but said, “I’m a man of my word, nothing is off the table.”

99999

Xanatos observed the movements of his forces from his chambers, watching as the last pockets of resistance were rounded up and kept in small groups. It would make them easier to control before moving them all to Rikers. He wondered how that would go, shoving the police and their victims into the same jail. Perhaps he could offer them opportunities for “reform” under the watchful eye of Dracon’s people. A thought that couldn’t go anywhere at the present moment.

Parker’s words still rang in his head. The man hadn’t been right at all, no, that wasn’t possible. He was David Xanatos, and he was a self-made man. He’d made his own fortune, built his own company, learned the secrets of the arcane all on his own! No one, no one did anything that he couldn’t do himself. So he was a savvy businessman, what about that was such a crime? If people had problems with it, they were well within their rights to take it up with their elected leaders, after all. They just had to face his own efforts to head them off.

“Any changes?” He turned to see Fox walking up, her face set as she stood beside him.

“Nothing yet, my dear,” he answered. “If we don’t hear anything after the deadline, I’ll move forward with stage two.” Fox nodded, but her eyes were obviously elsewhere. Turning, he asked, “Something’s on your mind.”

Fox sighed, letting out a little laugh. “He almost got to me, I’ll admit. What he said, I...I know it’s true. But that’s when I realized the difference between what he thinks and what I know.” Turning to David, she ran her hand along his cheek. “If anything ever happened to me, I know you’d do what you needed to bring me back.”

Xanatos smiled, happy that his wife knew who she’d married. “Nothing’s too good for my wife, after all.” Then he rose and kissed her, knowing that no matter what happened? She was still his.

99999

As engineering teams kept running about the remaining three boroughs to set charges, Dawes came over the speakerphone as the MV team were gathered at the mouth of the tunnel. “SEC’s still finding front companies and shells, it’s like he was treating the whole damn mess like a game of Monopoly.”

“Aye, that’s about what I’d expect from him,” Campbell muttered. “Mr. Sadusky, has anyone heard from the pyramid recently?”

Sadusky shook his head, wheeling around to face Campbell. “Nah, they’ve been pretty quiet.”

Campbell didn’t dare finish the cliché. “Has anyone seen anything of their upper levels?”

Another shake of the head. “The last anyone saw of anyone thirty-two and up, they were all boarding planes to JFK or LaGuardia.”

Campbell nodded. “And would it be safe to presume that where the thirty-twos gathered, those above would also be present?”

“Almost certainly.”

Campbell ran through the idea in his head, then turned to Fareeha and Parker. “We’re going to face magic users at some point. Be on guard and be ready to run if we need to.” He noted, and chose to ignore, Parker’s sneer.

“We’re about as prepped as we can be, captain,” Howell said, standing by a Humvee. “Unless you want to wait a few more hours, we’ve done about all we can.”

“Understood sir, thank you,” Campbell replied. Moving for the vehicle’s radio, he nodded to the radioman as he grabbed the mic. “Xanatos, this is Campbell, over.”

A brief pause, then, “Ah, captain! You still have ten hours left. I presume my offer was received well?”

“Aye, it was,” Campbell said, smirking as he answered. “First, the ones we knew would answer as such. MV teams Eight, Seven, and One all answered that they would reject your offer without hesitation.”

“A shame, but I expected that some members of the task force would react in such a way,” Xanatos admitted. “Still, the group is more than only them.”

“Aye, leading us to teams Nine, Two, and Three,” Campbell added. “Who all also rejected your offer after rereading our mission reports from this world and agreed that you were not to be trusted.”

The shift in tone was instant. “A shame they didn’t see the benefit, but I suppose the rest of the MVTF realized the value of the offer?”

Campbell smiled. “The leaders of the governments sponsoring Team Rainbow all agreed that they could not trust you as well, putting it to a vote they all confirmed that you would not be acting in good faith when carrying out your side of the agreement.”

“I find the inherent accusation in that statement rather insulting, captain,” Xanatos noted. “Yet you haven’t said anything about the EU or GDI.”

Campbell smiled. “The Security Council in GDI’s world voted on the matter as well, weighing your known capabilities and knowledge against the threat posed by your being able to influence that world so soon after another madman with a goatee attempted to manipulate the desperate and needy to follow him to destruction and death. I have a response in fact, supplied by GDI to us.”

“From the United Nations Security Council, in response to the offer of one David Xanatos regardinmg lending his assistance to comprehend and neutralize the threats presented by Tiberium. As recognized that Mr. Xanatos is only ever capable of pursuing his own personal interests, often at the expense of others to their detriment at worst and subordination at best, this council hereby votes against any and all offers made by Mr. Xanatos on the grounds that he will be acting in bad faith toward our planet. We do not believe that he can be trusted to truly resolve the threat of tiberium, and will instead only ensure his domination of our world through coercion and manipulation. Furthermore, we also stand opposed to his attempt at secession against the lawful government of the United States given the violent nature and threats presented to civilians in his area of action. We hereby authorize operations group Echo Six to take whatever actions are necessary in assisting the local United States government in bringing this conflict to a swift and satisfactory conclusion, that being the return of the city and county of New York to the state and national governments.”

Silence for a few moments, then, “I can safely presume the response of your own government, then?”

“Well, the Scottish government did vote no on your offer,” Campbell said, deciding to enjoying being a pedantic bastard. “Along with all members of the EU. In fact, I have a letter here from the president of the European Council as well. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to read it.” Leaving no time for Xanatos to object.

“From the desk of Alberik Holeček,

Mr. Xanatos,

It was with expected surprise that I and the other members of the European Council received your offer of assistance. Like Capt. Campbell’s platoon, each of us is acutely aware of your ideals and actions in facing threats and issues that may arise to what you believe is a great opportunity. I personally do agree that such threats as both the Pan-Asian Coalition and our own current climatic norms must appear to your as an opportunity as none ever witnessed before by a man of your clear caliber.

The debate was spirited, not unlike the one that lead to our decision to withdraw from continental Europe to accept the status of exiles among the nations of North Africa. Indeed, when we first made our intentions clear there were many in our governments who believed that these nations would seize upon the opportunity to utilize this chance to essentially turn us into vassals! How fortunate we were when they made clear their own intentions, recognizing the threat posed by the Coalition in their efforts to erase that which makes all men and nations unique. No, they do not take up arms against the PAC, yet they do allow us to live and rebuild what is needed for our ongoing struggle. Truly, the greatest strengths of mankind are the ability to work in tandem with each other, and the ability to recognize genuine need with simply humanity.

Which brings me to the present offer you have made to the nations of Europe. I cannot deny, such an offer would indeed be a great boon to our nations. Stable supplies of food, effective systems and forces that the Coalition would be unable to counter, and the ability to potentially return the planet’s climate to that which was extant before the current conflict. A wonder beyond any imaginable in our current time! Indeed, that is what gave many on our council pause, you see. There were many men like you in the initial shift in the climate, proclaiming that they had the perfect solutions to reverse the drops in temperature and halt the encroaching glacial mass. They proposed facilities that would deploy mass amounts of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, or to simply deploy mass labor forces to break up and clear the glacial buildups, to even develop cities that could be built within the glaciers. All of course for a healthy profit. After all, such minds could surely not function without proper returns on the investment.

Naturally, such actions would have been a massive undertaking. Requiring resources that would be required to move our populations and manufacturing capabilities to North Africa, and with them our ability to continue to fight for our survival both as individual nations and as a collective whole. These individuals mentioned above, claiming that they were unfairly denied or left unheard, attempted to build their own small bases of power and remain in Europe in the face of the oncoming Coalition forces. I will spare you the exact details of what occurred to them, but in short they will never again be able to propose such ideas as they had to solve all the world’s problems by themselves.

That, Mr. Xanatos, is where the crux of the matter lies. You seem to be under the impression that you as a lone individual can solve the world’s problems on your own. More than that, that only you can respond to such threats without the care or input of other men. Europe has seen many like you, Mr. Xanatos. Cromwell, Bonaparte, Mussolini, Hitler, Stalin. Men who proclaim to all that they and they alone can solve the problems facing their people. Of course, a learned man such as yourself knows what happens to such men in the end. I certainly hope that you do not meet such a fate of course! After all, you must have realized that you are surely different from these previous individuals, correct?

Suffice to say, the rest of the council could recognize such an effort instantly, though there was debate on whether or not the Union, knowing your personality, could simply deflect or mitigate the worst tendencies or your nature. I must confess that the idea had crossed my own mind, but in truth it was clear that we could not and should not ignore the evidence of our own soldiers who are on the front lines of these operations. We therefore voted to reject your offer, Mr. Xanatos. There was no benefit visible from our position, regardless of how wondrous your world and skills may truly be. We have therefore decided to turn down your offer, and leave the resolution of this matter to Capt. Campbell and his platoon, along with our partners in the MVTF.

All the best to you and your family,

Sincerely,

Alberik Holeček

President of the European Council

P.S.

I advise you listen to what Capt. Campbell will say, I understand that the young man is rather skilled in such matters!”

Campbell waited a moment after finishing the letter, waiting for anything Xanatos might say before proceeding. “Turns out some people do have principles, Xanatos. Maybe that’s why you hate them so much. You, a man willing to do anything and everything to have what you want, hates the fact that there really are people who can weight the cost-benefit and still make the illogical choice. The choice that, after all, lets them keep their soul.”

“You revealed yourself to the world, Davey,” Campbell said. “You showed everyone the kind of man you truly are, and we get to be the ones to end the farce. How does it feel then? Knowing that the final nail in your fucking coffin will be a collection of lunatics? Oh aye, we did your dirty work for a while. Still, isn’t that something a man like you should have learned by now? If you help make a monster, it will turn around on you. I suppose you didn’t learn anything after Thailog after all, did you?”

“Now, I’m going to make this offer one final time, just to at least try to be fair to you. You can surrender, right now. Stand your forces down, there will be consequences but you’ll at least be able to survive. Fox will even be able to claim that she was only acting in fear of her son’s life.”

“How dare you!” Xanatos roared. “I would never do that to my son!”

Campbell smiled. “Aye. Because what good is a dead heir?”

He gave a nod to Howell, the colonel ordering, “Blow the charges.”

Another radioman manning another set called out, “All teams, Cornwallis, Cornwallis, Cornwallis.” Not even a second later, a series of explosions ripped through the Bronx, undoubtedly followed by Brooklyn and Queens.

“You’re quite the man to turn a phrase Xanatos,” Campbell said. “Though I admit, there’s wisdom to be found in cliches at times. You were given more than enough rope, and now you’ve hung yourself with it. Except you didn’t just find enough rope. No, a man like you couldn’t end it all so simply. You had to gilt the bloody thing and proclaim to the world that it was another fine Xanatos creation. Because what good is the world if it isn’t bowing to you at every waking moment?”

Silence. Even as gunfire began to ring out, undoubtedly trying to totally destroy the creations hidden in Xanatos’ stores, there was no response over the radio. Campbell set the mic down, ready to go back to work, when the speaker crackled to life a final time.

“It’s a shame, Campbell. I thought you were a smarter man than this.”

Campbell couldn’t help but sneer as he grabbed the mic. “The only one to feel shame for is Alexander. It’s a shame his father is such a bloody idiot.” Handing it off to the radioman, he turned Sadusky and Howell. “Gentlemen, see you on the other side.”

Howell gave a quick salute as Sadusky said, “Good luck Campbell. You’re gonna need it.”

Campbell grinned, turning to the three teams. “Galahad! Take the front, keep your shield ready! Amari, keep your team to the flanks! Parker, I want your team covering our ass, we know how much you’d hate to get taken from behind!”

Parker laughed. “Go fuck yourself!”

“Maybe once this is over,” Campbell chuckled. “Platoon! Are we tired of dealing with David Xanatos and his bullshit?”

“Aye!”

“Are we ready to finally fucking breathe again!”

“Aye!”

“Then let’s show Xanatos what he’s up against!”

“All the powers of Hell!”

Reinhardt popped his shield and went storming into the tunnel, the platoon following in two lines with weapons ready. Fareeha and her team moved alongside them, with the commandos to the rear. As they moved, Howell shook his head. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I kinda feel sorry for Xanatos right now.”

Sadusky shrugged, wheeling himself around to get to the Humvees. “Don’t see why, colonel. He knew what he was getting into.”

99999

Amelia smirked as she heard the blasts, drawing her saber and pistol. “Thus the battle is joined. Mr. Nokkar, please ensure that should things take a turn toward a less than favorable outcome, we have a means to egress?”

Nokkar nodded. “Understood, captain.”

She turned to survey the teams under her leadership. There was Team Manhattan, who at present were standing by the towers of the bridge. Team Austin, the sibling trio staring across the bridge into their second truly heroic operation. Team Middleton, Shego looking rather pleased that she could let loose again as Kim and Yori remained focused. Team San Fransokyo, GoGo ready to roll as Wasabi and Honey Lemon did their best to steel themselves. Teams Boston and Columbia were looking plain by comparison, but then being FBI agents surrounded by the rest of Argus, well at least Team Columbia were able to utilize magic. Her own team, Groom Lake, stood ready and waiting for her command.

“Well, there’s really nothing left to say, is there?” she chuckled. “Mr. Broadway, would you be so kind as to have your team give us cover from the skies?”

“You got it captain,” Broadway answered, nodding to his team before they began to clamber up the bridge.

“Ms. Parr, do your best to keep us shielded from any incoming fire when we cross onto the island,” Amelia said, striding forward across the bridge. “Ms. Go, do your best to not move too far ahead of us, we don’t want to have to waste time saving you from the consequences of your own decisions.”

“Don’t make me flea bomb you lady!”

“Ms. Tomago, I want your team to keep a rough perimeter around us, have Ms. Rodriguez deploy what cover she can to provide firing positions for the FBI agents. Any questions?”

“Yeah, just one,” Dash chuckled. “Why does Campbell get to have all the fun?”

“That specific attitude of yours, Mr. Parr,” Amelia answered. “Unless you want the platoon to give you another dose of humility?” Violet and Jack both chuckled, Dash pouting even as he made ready to run.

“Argus team, MVs are in the tube,” the radioman at the C-in-C called out. “You are clear to enter Manhattan, happy hunting.”

Amelia smiled, striding tall across the bridge. “Alright then! Time to earn our keep!”

The reaction was almost instant the second they stepped foot onto Manhattan Island. A mixture of red electronic beams and flashing yellow orbs turned to face them, monsters and machines both shifting to answer the intrusion. Amelia surveyed the scene in a second, taking in the overturned and burning cars on the highway. The mutates flew in from above, snarling like her old uncle after a few too many grogs beside the fire. The robots marched over the cars, crushing them clawed underfoot. Perhaps they were out of fuel? Regardless, they were in their sights now. Time to work. She waited as they closed, getting a clear look at their raging eyes. “Now Broadway!”

The true gargoyles dove down from above, white eyes flashing and claws slamming the first line of mutates into the blacktop and scorched metal. They tried their best to only disable their foes, but the lessons learned in this new world had hardened them. Betrayal by their ancient allies, cons by Xanatos, and now a world of enemies new and unknown? Crimson coated the curve leading to the FDR Expressway, first blood truly drawn by Argus. Shego and Dash ran into the fray, Dash doing what he could to block the cameras of the robots as Shego began to melt them to slag. Yori and Kim targeted the robot eyes as GoGo and Wasabi sliced off their forearms and heads.

The fight was loud, exactly what they needed to keep drawing in their foes. Barb Diffy unveiled the guns in her forearms, laying down fire as Honey Lemon worked her chem-purse like a virtuoso. One second she was making cover for the FBI agents to dive behind, the next she was throwing balls of rapidly expanding foam around mutates to bring them to the ground. Dawes and her team kept working their magic, casting debris and dust into their enemies way to give them enough time to answer the threat.

Amelia’s saber flashed, cutting through the armored hides of the mutates with ease. After all, it was a Damarian blade, made to cut down armor in the thickest of boarding actions. The flesh of the mutates and robot plating were nothing in the face of such space-borne craftsmanship. Delilah was more direct, slicing through the mutates with her claws before using a forty-four Mateba revolver to finish off the wounded beasts and destroy the robots. Nokkar held the rear, downing robots and mutates with nothing but his massive bare hands. Charlie and Astrid weren’t using any such gear, at the moment, after all they weren’t going to trust anything Walter was capable of making. That didn’t mean they weren’t capable of handling their own in such a fight. They picked their targets carefully, noting everything happening around them for review later. It was the only way Argus was going to keep getting better at what they did.

The swarm charged at them from the city, and kept getting met in turn each time. Kim kept using her grappling gun to wrap the wings around mutate after mutate, leaving them vulnerable for Yori to knock them out with pressure point strikes that left them unconscious on the pavement. Jack had turned his body to steel, bodying blows and laser beams before knocking the fangs from the mutates and smashing the robots. Lesser hearts would have trembled at the black cloud speeding for them, but by now each team had seen and survived far worse. The mutates were animals, able to get distracted and swiping without care before being put down from an attack from the flank. The robots were automata, focused on singular threats without realizing things like cover or terrain. Yes, there were plenty of them. That didn’t mean they were a true threat. Gunfire kept ringing out from the FBI agents, while Violet kept deflecting laser beams from striking them. Then she’d wrap groups of robots in spheres of invisible force, crushing them as she contracted it. If there were mutates swept up as well? That was the cost of making sure they got out of this alive.

It wasn’t clean, it wasn’t family-friendly, but it worked. As mutates kept dropping and robots kept failing, the team began a slow and steady movement down the FDR. Agents Johnson and Colfax hit a trio of mutates with sharp wind shears, sending them careening into the side of a trailer before Dawes and Hendricks moved in to use their magics to ignite the gas tank and blowing them to oblivion. As the fire lit them all with sputtering fury, Amelia turned to Lower Manhattan and smirked as she saw another fresh force take to the skies from the floating castle.

“Do you think Mr. Xanatos has noticed us?”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 8

Kavanaugh kept his rifle ready as the teams came to the end of the tunnel. Moving around the abandoned cars, he noted how many of them were broken into, torn apart, the idle thoughts about what happened to the people inside when the monsters found them. Reinhardt did what he could to push the wreckage out of the way, though the occasional semi trailer made it necessary to clamber over the cars. Once more, the seeming American obsession with the personal vehicle making their lives that little bit more difficult.

“Alright, we should be coming up on the end of the tunnel,” Campbell said. “Galahad, pop your shield at the mouth of the tunnel and hold position for two minutes. After that we’ll secure the immediate area as best we can. Find the tallest building, take position on the roof, survey the area before moving forward. Schneider, try to establish contact with the National Guard once we’ve secured our position. Durand, hold a position on the ground with Galahad and Reginleif, Kavanaugh do what you can to secure the building. Questions?”

“If we find any civilians sir,” Lee said. “Should we try to direct them to the tunnel?”

“Negative, we won’t have any guarantee that they can escape without trouble,” Campbell answered. “Tell any civilians we might find, hunker down and stay out of sight. Anything else? Alright, get ready.”

Streetlights from the tunnel exit began to shine. Pushing forward from artificial into natural darkness, Kavanaugh forced himself to move ahead of his squad and take cover behind a massive SUV as Reinhardt hit his shield. The blue light filled half the tunnel, as he forged ahead with two dozen barrels ready behind him. Then silence, waiting as the clock ticked down. Until finally, Campbell said, “Time, move forward.”

The teams found themselves exiting between stonework, green leaves swaying gently overhead. Weapons still up, the teams crept forward as they realized they could hear it; harp music. They could feel themselves calmed, Kavanaugh realized he was creeping forward with nary more a care than when he’d eat at the diner. Moving up onto the streets, they saw the wreckage before them still smoldering, of police cruisers and carts crushed and burned.

Parker tapped Campbell’s shoulder, then motioned to a strange looking high-rise to their rear. It looked like each apartment had been rounded off, a sprawling single complex that to Kavanaugh looked capable of fitting his family and hundreds more like it inside. Nodding, Campbell motioned with his hands for the teams to move into position around it. He motioned for Fareeha to take the roof. Nodding, she motioned for Lena to join her, before the pair rocketed up as Reinhardt and Durand’s squad took positions around the base of the building. They found the nearest door next to an entrance for parking, which to the corporal felt utterly pointless. Who needed parking on an island this small? Motioning to his squad, he took the lead into the lobby despite all reason screaming at him not to.

They froze as they realized something. The interior wasn’t the lobby of the building, at least not the main building. It was office space, everything from dermatologists to “spiritual healers.” Shaking his head, Kavanaugh motioned for the squad to exit and led them around. Then they saw a drive, with a sign advising anyone using the valet to keep their number on their person. Nodding, he took the lead again into a lobby with marble floors and modern art sculptures, the American flag hanging down on the right wall and an abandoned concierge desk to their left. Next to it a sign, “All Guests Please Check In.”

Making his way to the stairs, he looked back to see Reinhardt positioning himself in front of the door as Durand’s squad took positions inside the lobby. The sound of the harp was still everywhere, Kavanaugh wondering if Xanatos hadn’t engineered any device to tune in at his command to play at his order. Even knowing how unnatural the calm was, that didn’t stop him from feeling it. Like he could simply accept what was happening. Even then, he couldn’t worry. He had work to do after all.

“Alright, let’s get to the roof,” Campbell said. “Lisowski, Deadeye, I want you both to give me a good survey of the area once we’re up.” The two nodded as Campbell tapped the call button on the elevator. With a ding, the doors parted to reveal warm tones and stainless steel. Still barren of any sign that other human beings were anywhere around. Knowing no other way, Kavanaugh stepped aboard.

In the Oval Office, Martinez looked to the director of the FBI. “We’re sure?”

“As we can be, sir,” the director answered. “SEC found what they could, but without the Manhattan office we only have so much.”

“Well this would be enough for me to make a case in court with,” Martinez answered. “Alright, bring them in.” A minute later, the delegation from the South entered the Oval Office, all looking rather smug and expecting Martinez to listen to them. Until several of them saw the sheaf of papers on his desk, and realized that the Secret Service were all standing by the doors.

“Gentlemen,” Martinez said, staring at them all. “You’re all undoubtedly aware that insider trading is a federal offense.”

The men froze, until the oldest man of the delegation from Alabama chuckled. In that slow, drawn-out drawl that all the good ol’ boys loved to put on when confronted with trouble, he said, “Mr. Pres-ee-dent, dat dere is a hefty accusation -- ”

Unfortunately for the man, Martinez was through playing around. “You sir, are potentially the greatest offender of all. Two of your sons, three nephews, and one half-brother. All employees in Xanatos’ employ? Tell me, what will you get for letting him do this? An ambassadorship?”

The congressman seemed to glitch for a moment, his face twitching like he was simultaneously on speed and having a stroke. “Sir, how, how dare you sir!”

Martinez paused, then looked to the other men. “Do you all want to try to deny it as well or do you want to make a deal?”

“Uh, well Mr. President, maybe we’re blowing this all out of proportion,” a younger representative from Florida said, a desperate smile over his face. “After all, I’m sure you can understand a man taking steps to make sure his family is taken care of?”

Martinez stared at the man. “You don’t have a family, Vince, you have an apartment with a couch.” As the younger man withered before their eyes, the president went back to glaring down the rest of them. “I’ll give you all two hours to decide. In the White House of course, seeing as you all would want to make sure this doesn’t leak to the media. Now, I’ll wait here for when you’re ready.” Waiting until the men were led back out of the office by the Secret Service, Martinez waited a moment before grabbing his phone. “I think we’re going to have a leak to ABC Mike, make sure nothing untoward about the delegation gets out?”

Xanatos glared at his monitors. He’d had to cease sending swarms after the Argus teams that had crossed over the RFK, they simply refused to die. Worse, he’d seen it crop up on the sensors he’d hooked into the city’s traffic network. The platoon had made their way onto Manhattan via Queens-Midtown, and were now positioned in the Corinthian. Not a bad position to hold up in, presuming the had the force to secure it.

Smirking, he tapped the phone on his desk. After a ring, the groggy voice of Abraham Kane answered, “Whozzit?”

“Mr. Kane,” Xanatos said, smiling as he checked the time. Almost sunrise. “I want you to deploy our Steel Clan assets between the FDR and Corinthian. Say, about two hundred each.”

“Two hundred?” Kane asked. “The heck is so important we need that many at each?”

“Some unfortunate pests that are trying to make their nests on my land,” Xanatos answered. “Let me know when they’re eliminated.” Hanging the phone up, he turned to his news feeds and froze. ABC was halfway through a story that was now being picked up and verified by the other networks. Scowling again, he grabbed his phone and dialed.

“White House switchboard.”

“This is David Xanatos, I need to speak to the president.” There was a terrified whimper before the line was connected.

“Ah, David,” Martinez said, sounding rather pleased with himself. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I see there’s been an interesting leak to the press, Richard,” Xanatos noted. “A shame none of it can be substantiated.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, David,” Martinez chuckled. “You see after that business in Duckberg the SEC has been keeping a fine eye on its records. Especially regarding the kind of business men like you can get up to. The networks are being provided with all the necessary records, they’ll verify it in due time.”

Xanatos’ fist clenched. “You really think you can outplay me? A man that didn’t even realize his destiny wasn’t his own for years?”

“Well, now that’s where you’re wrong David,” Martinez answered. “You’re presuming I’m still playing your game right now. A game where business is done in the shadows because you can’t hold up to the scrutiny of it being revealed. No, from this point onward, things are going to be as open and clear as possible. Meaning that at this moment, I’ve already asked the Speaker of the House and the Senate Majority Leader to see that a joint resolution is drawn up recognizing that as long as you claim Manhattan, anywhere considered under your control is in open rebellion against the United States.”

Xanatos blinked. “You really think you can match me?”

“I don’t need to match you, David,” Martinez answered. “I just need to do my job for the people of the United States.” That was the end of the call, and Xanatos realized something that he could never admit, especially to himself.

Martinez sounded bored.

Goliath sighed as he settled in for the day. “Perhaps you’re right, Elisa. Life during the day, it may be necessary after all.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Elisa sighed, patting Goliath’s arm. “Just makes me wonder why David didn’t come after you himself.”

“One does not question blessings until they are safe, Elisa,” Goliath replied. “You believe we will be safe here?”

Elisa looked around the abandoned coffee shop. “Safe as we can be. As long as you stay in the shadows and I stay hidden we should be okay. Just wish we knew what they’re doing in the rest of the city.”

“We can only hold out hope,” Goliath answered. “I know my clan will not abandon us. They will find a way back to the island.”

“Then let’s make sure we can meet them,” Elisa said, making herself as comfortable as she could on the floor behind the counter. As the sun began to crest the far horizon, Goliath froze and turned once more to stone. Elisa stared at the statue for a moment, signed as she balled her jacket up for a makeshift pillow. “See you later, big guy.”

The skies were clear in the early morning, Kavanaugh staring southward to Lower Manhattan. If he didn’t count the helicopters on station from the National Guard and the jets higher above keeping a perimeter, he would have appreciated how stunningly silent an entire city could be. They’d found dozens of civilians inside the condominiums, but thanks to the harp they were all calm and amenable to being told to stay inside, away from windows, and wait for further instructions. Granted, looking inside the condos had been a shock. Seeing apartments made with fine marble, stainless steel, but with no color or life on the walls. Seeing the good clothes they all wore, compared to the plain and utilitarian wear his family had grown up with. Something to dwell on for later, perhaps?

Checking the north, he saw an unfamiliar shape. Moving toward Parker, he asked, “Captain, what’s that building?”

Parker checked and saw the slim glass monolith. “That’s the UN Building. The UN still exist in your time?”

Kavanaugh shook his head. “Most nations began to see the UN as worthless. They failed to stop the Russians, didn’t do a bloody thing when the Americans began to go mad. Eventually some terrorist group blew the building to hell. Said they were ‘defending America from globalist interests.’ Goes without saying the kind of people they were that did it.”

Parker thought for a second. “Those Nazi fucks?”

“No, apparently only your ‘average’ supremacist bastards,” Kavanaugh answered. “Lovely people though, only destroyed a third of the city to do it from what we learned in school.”

Parker sneered. “That’s what they get for letting the fucking Soviets in.”

“I’ve got something.” Everyone turned at Deadeye’s words, the morning light illuminating the oncoming horde of robots speeding for their position. “Count...at least one hundred. Wait, they’re splitting. Half the force is moving east, they’ll overshoot our position.”

Campbell keyed out, “Durand, maintain position on the ground, do your best to pull back into the lobby as best you can.”

“Roger, moving now.”

“What do you see?”

Deadeye paused. “All robots, no sign of mutates in the mix.”

“Any sign of leadership or a controlling robot?”

Deadeye didn’t move from his sight. “No sign, all uniform.”

“Xanatos must be trying to get our attention or some bull,” Campbell spat. “Everyone ready up! Kavanaugh, see to it.”

“Aye sir. Baker, get atop the stairs and have your gun ready. Van der Burgh, keep by the door in case we need it, Schneider you go with her. Capt. Amari, I’d recommend staying to the rooftop for now, no need for you to get swarmed up there.” Then he keyed out, “Durand, can you get Galahad into the lobby at all?”

A pause, then, “He barely fit, but he fit.”

“Keep an eye on your rear, let him handle the front. Keep an eye on the stairs, we don’t know if he’ll send any of the robots into the building to cut us off from the center.” Thinking for a moment, he said, “Place your mines by the stairs as well, the civilians won’t be joining us.”

“Captain, confirm?”

Campbell thought for a minute, then nodded. “Roger, get the mines by the doors of the stairs, the civilians are being placated.”

“Becker, Gantz, do the same a half-flight down,” Kavanaugh said. “Lt. Oxton, Echo, keep an eye on the whole rooftop, don’t let anyone get in where we don’t want them? Everyone else, find a good position and don’t get shot please.” The teams set to it, setting themselves behind thick garden boxes as the robot horde approached. All eyes were up, all sights aligned and ready.

“Everyone hold fire until they’re close enough,” Campbell ordered. “No need to waste any ammunition, we don’t need a repeat of when we dealt with Columbia.” Then it was the interminable wait, watching as the robots closed to the rooftop. As half the robots flew for the ground, the other half went to land on the rooftop.

“Fire!”

Fire ripped through the first bots to land, tearing through the matte gray imitations of Goliath. Like in Amphibia, any robot made to fly would have relatively weak armor in trade. Even if the armor was better here, that didn’t mean they weren’t vulnerable. McCree’s Peacemaker boomed among the chattering of the rifles, Baker’s SAW chewing through the oncoming horde trying to land behind them. The sound of Lena’s blasters and Echo’s beams to the left told them at least a fraction of the bots were trying to flank, but somehow Kavanaugh felt no panic. True, he’d been in plenty of combat actions before. At least the robots didn’t howl in pain or scream for mother on being shot. Yet this time the focus was sharper, the fear for his life less prevalent. Call the Holy See, a miracle.

That made it easier to sight and fire, ignoring the lasers flying over his head as he took cover behind the garden box. He could smell the ozone from each hit, the radiant heat from each searing beam that came too close, but nothing stopped him. He’d run empty, swap for a fresh magazine, and go back to firing. Even as the robots approached, he maintained his calm as he called out, “Genji! Sword!” The ninja obliged, unsheathing his blade and once more diving in on the false gargoyles. The ultra-sharp katana carved the droids like meat, electricity sparking out of them as they collapsed in heaps and sections.

Down on the ground, Reinhardt fired into the pack of droids that approached the door. Their red particle beams collided with his shield, unable to truly penetrate or even strain the generator with each hit. Lee was behind the front desk, standing ready for when the guns on his right gauntlet went dry. Yet for now, he held the lobby alone. That left the rest of the platoon on guard, eyes peeled waiting for something else to attack. Yet they were cool, focused, even more than usual. Even as the wreckage piled up outside, everyone realized it. A cool sense that they weren’t really in danger yet. Xanatos might have been a terror pulling strings in the background, but now that he was operating openly? Now that they all knew what he could do? He was nothing more than a bully with expensive toys and no real friends.

That was the truth now, Xanatos laid bare. The master of Manhattan had nothing more to terrify them with now, no remaining secrets or schemes that could intimidate them into inaction. The robots coming after them were walking scrap now, no more or less. The red particle beams flying over their heads were as dangerous as walking across the street, the clumsy swipes of the metal claws easily dodged. Fareeha was even able to meet them blow for blow on the rooftop, using her fists to beat the droids when they got too close to use her rockets against. Metal crushed metal, lead biting thin aluminum, as the parts began to pile up before them.

Each burst found a target, each round tearing out the digital guts of the horde. Their heads were punched through, one solid burst from Gunner turned a bot’s head into shrapnel that managed to pierce the camera eyes of two behind it. Another was struck in the perfect point that its fuel tank ignited, scattering the bots closest to it and sending two more hurtling to the ground. As Reinhardt’s guns ran dry, Lee jumped over the front desk and lay down behind him, taking up the fire as the crusader held back the chaos, backed up by Russo and Ricci. As the robots began to have trouble getting to their targets on the ground, the air began to clear. As the sun began to shine down upon the isle of Manhattan, as David Xanatos watched from behind his monitors, he realized something. They were calm. They were capable. They were crushing his force.

They were not docile.

“What’s happening,” Fox whispered, watching both the destruction around the condos and the annihilation on the FDR. “The harp should be doing the same thing to them that it is to the people.”

“A slight...underestimation, my dear,” Xanatos admitted. “The MVTF and Argus teams have seen more than their share of danger. The harp merely calms a person’s emotional state. Unfortunately, for people like these?” The last of his droids sent against the condos were destroyed, cutting off his feed. “Keeping them calm in a fight is the last thing I should want.”