Let us speak of Prehistoric. Tall. Muscular, with a bushy brown mustache that stretched from his upper lip to his sideburns. Prehistoric was a former supervillain from Prime, similar to the former Brothers Corpo. He had been imprisoned by the Silver Knights before he had been busted out by agents of New Ludaya to serve as one of their Warriors. An arrangement that worked for Prehistoric just fine, for it allowed him the ability to exhibit his metahuman ability freely and without consequence. The use of metahuman power, to many, is an enjoyable experience. To not use their abilities, to be prevented from doing so, can lead to stress to a metahuman, the feeling of being caged in, or trapped. In extreme cases, it has led to Skinner's Psychosis, which can be fatal to both the metahuman and their surroundings.
Thus, for Prehistoric to be told that he could use his destructive metahuman power without having the authorities on his back, without the threat of being shipped off to a High Federation penal colony, was a light at the end of a long tunnel that was his life on Prime, for being a supervillain on Prime in the days after the Manticore was difficult indeed.
He was brought up to the highest point of Mt. Redress, and saw four figures standing out, looking at the length of New Ludaya, a place that Prehistoric had begun to love. He could be free here. He could maybe raise a family, that secret wish that had always whispered in the back of his mind.
But, he had a new duty now, and so he approached the four figures. Luminary was sitting at the bench, her back turned to him. Mister Meaning faced him, and the dark-skinned man gave Prehistoric his false smile. Memoire was turning, as well, and her expression seemed... sad.
The fourth person was the Shadow of the Giant. One of the leaders of the Warriors. The thin, short man, almost boy-like, considered Prehistoric with over-large, glassish eyes. The long shadows of evening rippled with his every breath.
Prehistoric saluted.
“You called for me,” he gruffed.
“Yes,” the Shadow of the Giant said, “There is a situation of the most delicate natures.”
“Are the Workers striking?” Prehistoric asked.
The Shadow of the Giant tilted his head. Mister Meaning scoffed.
“We haven't gotten to that point quite yet,” he said, “Not that I wouldn't put it past them. They don't know how good they've got it here-”
“Mister Meaning,” Luminary said, “Enough of that.”
Her right hand stood taller. Said nothing else.
Indeed, Luminary rose from her seat, turning. She held herself well, Prehistoric thought, though age was certainly starting to affect her. She looked nothing like the pictures he had seen of her on Prime, in newspaper clippings and history books. Here, despite everything, she looked frail. As though the wind would blow her away like leaves in autumn.
“A few individuals foreign to our nation have been spotted in the northwest, in the Dandelion Plains,” Luminary said, “They are suspected of having ties to those who would see our nation brought low.”
“So you want me to kill them,” Prehistoric said, and he rolled his shoulders.
Luminary nodded.
(Memoire flinched.)
“This mission,” the Shadow of the Giant said, picking up the conversation, “Is of a most delicate nature. No one can know. Indeed, when this is over, we will excise the memories of this encounter from your mind.”
Prehistoric nodded. He did not like this, this invasion of his privacy and sense of self. He had once been subject to a psionic attack from the superhero Acero, on Prime, and the experience still gave him nightmares.
But, he had a duty as a Warrior.
“Very well,” he said.
“It is presumed that they are being hosted by the metahuman Amoeboy's commune,” the Shadow of the Giant said, “The metahumans there are sympathetic to them.”
Prehistoric's breath skipped.
“...Traitors?” he said, “Amoeboy?”
This, this felt odd. He had met Amoeboy in the past. The old farmer had never seemed like one to go turncoat.
“Yes,” the Shadow of the Giant said, “Be careful. Be prepared to use your abilities. Ensure these foreign agents are brought to the light.”
“Who will accompany me?” Prehistoric asked.
“Gallimena is already there,” Luminary said, “Mister Meaning will be there as well. You are going to act as the muscle of the group. Go for the large theropods. Intimidate them into giving you information.”
Prehistoric licked his lips nervously. He looked disturbed.
“...It is a delicate operation,” the Shadow of the Giant said, “This cannot come out to the wider public as a whole. Not even to your other Warriors.”
The former supervillain looked hesitant.
But, eventually, he relented.
“Very well,” he said, “Take me to this commune.”
***
Amoeboy's people gave them dinner, making sure there were seconds and thirds for Tekahentakwa and Rohahes. The sight of food, of roasted meat and corn, made the starving Oshya:de forget themselves for a moment. They were a mess of scraping spoons, of food flying into their mouths, swallowed half-chewed as though they were pythons, as though someone would take it from their bowls and from their mouths. The metahumans allowed them this temporary indignity. Indeed, Tekahentakwa looked to be on the verge of tears when she was finished. She took a moment to control her shaking emotions, pushing them down. She looked at Amoeboy as she put her third bowl down.
“I thank you,” she said.
“Ye got some on your cheek,” Amoeboy said.
He handed her a napkin. Tekahentakwa dabbed at it and then, a moment later, sucked on the napkin's stains.
They were in the barn. A table had been set up for them, and here the two Oshya:de sat. Cobalt Joe, Lunus Oculus, and Thunderhead sat on bundles of hay beside more of Amoeboy's horse-sized amoeba and paramecium. Amoeboy sat across from the two Oshya:de.
“Y’all can spend the night here,” he said, “I think it'll be best. Don't have much room in the house as is, and if anyone comes snoopin'-”
“Then they'll look here,” Cobalt Joe said, “Come on, man, be for real.”
Amoeboy shot the younger metahuman a glare. Cobalt Joe shrugged.
“They're looking for us,” Joe continued, “You know that. There's only two buildings in the damn place.”
“It's also the most protected place in the commune,” Amoeboy countered, “Look at the hay.”
Cobalt Joe looked at one of the bundles. Yes, he realized, parts of it were moving.
“Come on out, now,” Amoeboy said, “They're friends.”
And bits of straw began to separate from the hay bales, from the bundles, from even the ground. They formed themselves together into the shape of a young woman with long hair, though the only organic part of her was bright, piercing blue eyes.
Eyes floating in hay. Cobalt Joe suppressed the urge to make a comment on that.
“This is Needle,” Amoeboy said, “She's one of the most powerful metahumans here. Is the hay itself, and it gets stronger under her control.”
“Why is she not a Warrior?” Thunderhead asked.
“Ye think she wants to fight?” Amoeboy muttered, “No. She keeps to herself. Ye bombed the test on purpose, didn't ye?”
He smirked at Needle, whose entire form rippled in a light, nervous giggle.
“If other metahumans come, they'll find ye,” Amoeboy said, “No matter where ye hide. So we come out swingin' instead.”
Lunus Oculus had gone pale. Amoeboy fixed her with a look.
“Ye got the old natives of this place here. Evidence that this entire nation is built on a lie. They'll kill to hide that secret.”
Cobalt Joe, indeed, was already stretching. He brought up a hand, and an eagle's claw, plasmatic and neon blue, erupted from his open palm.
“We'll stay in here for the night,” he said, “Needle, you mind telling me what you can do?”
She shrugged, and gestured. More of the hay in the barn began to rise, lifted into the air of their own accord, swirling and drifting around them. Joe nodded.
“Alright,” he said, “I can work with this.”
***
They slept fitfully in the barn. Passed out on the hay, though with the realization that it was the 'body' of Needle made a few of them uncomfortable. This, combined with the fact that, at any moment, Luminary's agents could descend on the barn, made them uneasy. Indeed, Tekahentakwa could not sleep. She tossed and turned, and then eventually got up, pacing around the barn. Most of the others were already passed out, even Rohahes, who after such a heavy meal was snoring just a hair too loudly.
She looked down at him. The ravages of his time in the caves were still fresh on his face. She had hoped, quite naively, that leaving the cave would also rid her of the scars they had given her and her people. That the winds of the plains would score them away. That the forests, the familiar woods, would heal all wounds.
But only time and work would do that.
And there was still so much to be done.
And Ganá:yeht had already changed so much.
Rohahes turned, murmured something in his sleep. He rubbed at the stump on his wrist absently. He had not lost it during the Oshya:de's exile. Rather, he had lost it during an incident in his youth. A wolf had attacked him in the dead of winter, while he and a few of his friends were on their way home from a hunting trip. His hand had been mangled so badly that they had needed to amputate it completely.
She still remembered his screams.
Perhaps he dreamed of that now.
Or, like her, perhaps he dreamed of the caves.
“Can't sleep?” someone whispered.
She nearly jumped, but she had gotten used to voices in the darkness. Cobalt Joe was sitting at the table, scratching at the wood with a single finger. His electric blue eyes glowed in the darkness.
“No,” Tekahentakwa said, “I can't.”
“Join the club,” Cobalt Joe replied, “Fucking nightmares.”
He leaned back, the chair's front legs going up into the air. Tekahentakwa tilted her head. She walked over, sat at the table across from him.
The two of them were quiet. Outside, they could hear wolves howling.
“This is good, actually,” Joe said.
She looked at him.
“If they end up coming, I don't need to rouse myself,” Joe said, “I can keep a lookout with Needle. That way I'm not tired when everything goes down.”
He pressed a hand against his chest.
“Christ,” he said, “My heart always beats so fast during these parts.”
“You have been hunted before?”
He nodded.
“One of my first jobs,” he said, “We were being chased across the multiverse by a man named Mordenaro. Unstoppable piece of shit. Killed two of my guildmates. That wasn't...”
He continued scratching the table.
“One of them, he was this old asshole named Nole. Biggest dick I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. But... he died so we could get out. I won't forget that.”
“I see,” Tekahentakwa said, “I'm sorry.”
Joe shrugged.
“Sorry,” he said, “Guess I'm rambling.”
She was quiet. Joe was, too. He took the time to stand up, walking over to the barn's front. He looked through the crack between the barn doors out into the night. Wind was whipping up outside, wailing and mournful.
“Cobalt Joe,” Tekahentakwa said, “Will you leave this place?”
“What, if we manage to get out the truth about you guys?” Joe asked, “Well, yeah. I didn't want to stay here, anyways. My home's elsewhere.”
He cracked a smile, though it looked odd on his face. As though there was still some sort of anger beneath it.
“I'm just here for the ride.”
The hay on the floor stirred. Cobalt Joe looked down.
Outside, they heard the door to the house open up. Someone shuffle outside. Cobalt Joe peeked through the crack in the doors, his brow furrowing. Tekahentakwa opened her mouth to speak.
“Is it-”
“Quiet,” Cobalt Joe said.
She heard the old man Amoeboy's voice.
“Mister Meaning,” he gruffed, “What brings you out here so late?”
“Could say the same to you,” a sly voice, Mister Meaning's voice, though muted by the barn doors, “A man walks out like he means somethin', this late at night?”
“Insomnia,” Amoeboy said.
“In paradise?” Mister Meaning said.
“Just because I'm in paradise, doesn't mean I get to sleep well,” Amoeboy said, “I'm not like you, Meaning. I feel shame.”
She heard Mister Meaning let out a whistle, as though impressed by Amoeboy's slight.
“Two of 'em,” Cobalt Joe whispered, “No, three. That's Gallimena, rounding in the shadows. She's transformed.”
He was speaking to Needle. The hay metahuman was whispering. Joe turned to Tekahentakwa.
“Wake up the others,” he said.
Tekahentakwa moved off, sneaking carefully across the barn. Needle's hay was muting her footsteps against the wooden planks. Indeed, Joe himself was deadly quiet, and in the half-dusk of the barn she could see him tensing up, poised for a skirmish. She had seen that look before.
“You've met my associate,” Mister Meaning said, outside, “Prehistoric, he's one of them Warriors now. Careful, he bites.”
Rohahes was already awake. He, too, was quiet, unlooped his long hunting knife. Tekahentakwa almost jumped as she shook Lunus Oculus awake, the metahuman's eyes glowing like twin red suns. She didn't say a word as she got up, made eye contact with Joe. Red and blue, and understanding between.
Thunderhead was in the back of the barn, already transformed into his sports car. Lunus Oculus patted his hood.
“Wait for my signal,” she said, and she opened up the door. Gestured for Rohahes to enter inside.
But the man shook his head, and waited for his Clan Mother to get in first.
“What do ye want, Meaning?” Amoeboy said, outside.
“Funny you should ask,” Mister Meaning preened, “Gallimena, she's been lookin' 'round these parts here, for a couple Feddie agents. Said some folks looked suspicious, and they were hanging in yon farm there.”
“It's a barn, you sycophant,” Amoeboy said.
“Temper, temper, my good dear,” Mister Meaning said, “Now, as a member of the Ruler class, and aide to the illustrious Luminary herself, I am well within my rights to have that farm searched.”
“Come back with a-”
“A what?” Mister Meaning said, “A warrant? Dear Amoeboy, there are no warrants here. Us metahumans, we make our own laws, damn any idea of a warrant.”
Tekahentakwa clambered into the car. Rohahes hesitated, still listening to the conversation outside.
“It's fine,” Lunus Oculus hissed, “Joe's got it. Go.”
The Oshya:de, mumbling to himself, got into the car.
“Prehistoric,” Mister Meaning said, “Open the door.”
Lunus Oculus got into the driver's seat. Waited to give Thunderhead the signal to turn on. Cobalt Joe was wound as a spring, and the air in the barn was starting to smell like ozone. Hay was starting to drift from the ground, floating in the air like a thousand sharp knives.
There were footsteps coming up to the barn door. But they were getting heavier, as though the man were transforming into something larger.
Cobalt Joe tensed.
Lunus Oculus's heart pounded. When to give the signal? Now? When things went down?
The heavy footstops stopped at the barn doors. The massive hands of a gigantopithecus closed over the handles, started to pull them open-
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And Joe pointed a fist at Prehistoric. There was a white flash, followed a moment later by a terrific boom, as lightning laced forward, striking the great ape in the chest, sending him flying into the air.
“Now!” Lunus Oculus roared, and the car engine roared to life. Thunderhead peeled forward, out of the front doors, headlights blaring.
But Prehistoric was already back on his feet. The shaggy apeform started to meld once more, a shadow that expanded outwards. Teeth sharpened, mouth expanded to snout and massive jaws. The arms shortened and became two-pronged, the legs became lean and bird-like.
The car veered out of the way as Prehistoric bit down at the car, for a moment his teeth scraping along its back trunk. Tekahentakwa let out a scream of surprise. Cobalt Joe's full soul realized into the world, the scarred eagle's arms punching into the earth, and the metahuman sprang into the air, catching onto the tyrannosaur's lower jaw, pulling it down. Joe spun as he did so, slamming Prehistoric's head into the ground. He took off running towards the car, Prehistoric writhing behind him.
Mister Meaning, panicked, reached into his chest. And began to pull.
And pull.
He had meant to grab a one-handed revolver. A nice one, that he had pilfered from some dead cowboy on the edges of the multiverse.
But no, it was the hunting rifle his uncle had given him when he was a kid. It had been awhile since he had actually used it.
“Ah, now,” he said, “Use what you have.”
He kneeled, checked the rifle to make sure it was in good working order. He was never one for conflict like this. His hands were shaking and he licked his lips nervously, trying to still his hammering heart, the sudden ache in his stomach, as he took aim at Cobalt Joe’s fleeing form-
And then was speared through by a storm of hay, the points sharp as blades, they pinned Mister Meaning to the ground, held him fast, a clump rising up into the air and smashing directly into the back of Mister Meaning's head. The straw then released, leaving Mister Meaning in a fetal position, clutching the back of his head and seeing stars.
The eagle's arms held onto the earth again, released, launched Joe forward once more. Thunderhead was slowing down, and Joe landed right on top of the sports car's hood. The soul dissipated. The passenger window rolled down, and Joe spun, scrunching his way inside. Lunus Oculus helped pull him into the car.
Then Thunderhead took off once more.
Rohahes glanced out the window. There was a figure in the shadows, something fleeting and quick.
“Gallimena,” Lunus Oculus said, “Thunderhead, you got something for her?”
“She's to the left,” Rohahes said, “What is she?”
“Some sort of chicken-raptor,” Lunus Oculus said, “She's fast. She'll be able to keep pace with us.”
“That's not all,” Cobalt Joe said, “That Prehistoric guy's to the right. What's his power?”
His eyes were studying the horizon on the right, but when Tekahentakwa looked out the window, all she could see was the night. Lunus Oculus coughed for a moment, thinking.
“He can transform into any extinct animal,” she said, “So long as it's extinct on at least one plane. He also has to know about its general makeup.”
“He turned into a big oraguntan,” Joe said, “And then a T-Rex.”
“Gigantopithicus,” Thunderhead said through the radio, “From Prime. Went extinct about three hundred thousand years ago.”
Joe looked at the radio.
“What?” Thunderhead said, “I was a dinosaur kid.”
Something stirred in the shadows. Jumped into the sky, and carried itself aloft on leathery wings.
Cobalt Joe pushed himself out of the window. Lunus Oculus grabbed at his legs. For a moment, Tekahentakwa saw him fumbling in the darkness, looking this way and that.
Then, he pointed. And another thunderbolt erupted from his hand, lighting the world for a split-second, and she could see something horrifying above them, some creature on wings like dried hides and a long beak like a crane's.
The bolt clipped a wing, and it started to wheel about in the air. That was the last that Tekahentakwa saw of it.
“Now for Gallimena,” Cobalt Joe said.
Lunus Oculus's face was white as a sheet. She looked at Joe.
“You didn't kill him, did you?”
“I don't think so,” Joe said, and he took a heavy breath, “I didn't see him land. But I got him good.”
“He was a pterosaur, right?” Thunderhead said, “Their wings tended to be frail.”
Gallimena was still sprinting parallel to the car. On occasion, she would attempt to get closer to them. But there was plenty of open space for Thunderhead to go, and he veered to keep a respectable distance between them.
And Gallimena started to drag. Slow down. For as much as she had her incredible speed, she only had so much stamina.
Even so, it was well over an hour before she lagged considerably. Tekahentakwa watched, under the crescent moon, as she slowed, bit by bit, losing her pace with the car. Finally, she stopped, a silhouetted, raptor-like form in the night, a quick shadow that disappeared in the rearview mirror.
“That's that, then,” Thunderhead said.
***
They brought Mister Meaning back into the house. One of Amoeboy's farmhands produced a few strands of ice from his fingers, placing them in a bag and putting them on the back of the man's head. Mister Meaning winced and groaned. Amoeboy checked out the injury, grimacing as he did so.
“Looks like they got ye good,” he said.
“You stupid old man,” Mister Meaning snapped, “That was your people.”
“Hey, now,” Amoeboy said, “This isn't the time for pointless accusations. Me an' mine were outside, or in the house. Not in yon barn. We didn't know them Feddies were hiding in there.”
Mister Meaning glared at Amoeboy, for he knew Gallimena's info had been good. That she had seen, from a distance, the old farmer talking to the Oshya:de and to Lunus Oculus. He made to speak up for a moment, but then noted that he was surrounded by the old farmer's commune. Outnumbered, and with Prehistoric and Gallimena still pursuing them, Mister Meaning was alone.
This was, in a rare moment, not exactly the time to go running one's mouth. So he wisely shut up.
“Sounds like they took off,” Amoeboy said, “Out into the wilderness.”
“Indeed,” Mister Meaning said.
He looked at the pinpricks on the back of his hand. Caused by metahuman power. He made a note to check to see who was recorded as part of the commune when he returned to Mt. Redress.
But for now, he held the pack on his head. A migraine was starting to form. That wasn't good, not good at all.
***
They got into the primary Workers town late in the night, dozing in the car. The ride had been an unexpected one, and though they had worked well enough as a team to escape, all of them felt exhausted, both due to a lack of sleep and, in Joe's case, the exertion that comes with combat. He tossed and turned in the passenger seat, occasionally murmuring to himself about Phineases and Rosemarys and men made of glass and shadows.
The car pulled up into the edge of town. Lunus Oculus, her eyes wide and burning, shook Joe awake. The four of them got out of the car, which molded back into Thunderhead. Deep rings ran under his eyes, and his walk was sluggish and tired.
There were a few metahumans out. Those nocturnal folks. A bat-headed New Ludayan watchman who saw them come in. Lunus Oculus nodded to him as they went inside, the bat-headed man turning his head and watching them go down the main road.
Lunus Oculus turned down the street. Went past a small neighborhood of alike wooden houses, row after row, and then onwards towards the more interesting architectural nightmares. Glass glittered under the moon's light from the multi-pointed art buildings. Statue-homes loomed, marble depictions of ancient metahuman history. Temples were here, too, shrines and idols to the various faiths that the former refugees had brought with them to their paradise.
Rohahes and Tekahentakwa looked around at these buildings, this show of make and work. Both of them were awed. Both of them were somewhat cowed.
Both of them walked with emptied hearts, at what the metahumans had erected here.
One of these buildings was a tall sandstone tower, hewn by Pauldros the Stonemaker and a few other earth-moving metahumans. It was a library of sorts, though there were very few books in it. But the rooms were spacious enough that Tallneck was comfortable living here.
Lunus Oculus walked up. Rapped hard on the door.
There was silence. A few other New Ludayans had woken up by now, were watching the group of four as they waited for Tallneck outside. Lunus Oculus recognized Glow among them. Quiet rumor-whisper mixed with the calm gait of the wind and the chirping of crickets.
The door to the sandstone library was tall, tall enough to accommodate Tallneck amicably. Its opening was ponderous, Tallneck even more so. He peered down at them blearily, a nightcap atop his head. Rohahes took a step back in surprise at the sight of the metahuman's power.
“Lunus...?” Tallneck said, “It's... not even five in the morn-”
Sleepy eyes fell on the two Oshya:de. They widened.
“You'd better come in,” he said, “Quickly now.”
They started heading inside.
All save for Joe.
Lunus Oculus turned to him.
“Come on,” she said.
But the Amber Foundation shook his head.
“I'm going to find Becenti,” he said, “Tell him what's happened.”
“Do you think he'll believe you?” Lunus Oculus asked.
“He will,” Joe said, forcefully, “If not him, then Iandi and Aldreia. We'll outnumber him, and even if he's the boss for this one, he'll have no choice but to listen.”
Lunus Oculus studied his face for a few moments. Her eyes were starting to change – the moon on New Ludaya, on Ganá:yeht, only changed phases every so often. Tonight it was, from crimson to a deep sort of purple.
“Alright,” she said, “Stay safe. You're guildfolk, but don't think that you're not a target.”
“I've been hunted before,” Joe said, “You watch yourself, too.”
And he moved off, taking a few steps back from the building, before turning and breaking into a light jog towards Mt. Redress.
***
He had to bullshit his way past a few patrols. New Ludayan Warriors, dressed up in combat armor, walking down empty roads and lonely side trails. They paid Joseph little mind, and it was obvious enough that there was not a full-scale manhunt for Lunus Oculus's group. Luminary and the Council were playing their cards close to the chest. He knew this already, of course, considering how poor a response that Luminary had been able to field against their investigation.
But to see so many people ignore him, or nod at him as he passed them on the road, or just ask one or two cursory questions, made him uneasy. So many people, outright ignorant of the ground they walked on. Oblivious to the history here.
He redoubled his efforts, and only quieted his step when he got to Mt. Redress. There were two guards posted in front of the main cavern, so Joe took a sideways path up the mountain, dancing past anyone he could see, his blue eyes blazing and straining in the night.
No doubt someone would eventually find him. The gamut of metahuman powers here meant that detection and security was endlessly versatile. The stars could be eyes. The night could smell him.
But, if he was detected, he was not accosted, and he found a side passage into the mountain soon enough, and went inside. Stone hall after stone hall-
Iandi and Aldreia were in the guest rooms. The Mark Eta was snoring soundly on his oversized bed, Aldrea at the foot of hers, hands clasped. She looked up at Joe as he walked in.
“Where have you been?” she hissed.
Joe brought a finger to his lips. Inched inside. He looked disheveled, as Aldreia looked him up and down.
“Becenti's furious,” her voice was a low, dangerous whisper, “You better have a good reas-”
“I do,” Joe said, “Where is he?”
“Upstairs, I think,” Aldreia said, “In one of the observation rooms. He hasn't been able to sleep.”
A sudden gale of guilt. But Joe pushed it aside.
“Take me to him,” he said, “Wake up Iandi, too. He'll want to hear this.”
“Are you sure?” Aldreia asked, “He'll be loud.”
Joe nodded.
“It's serious,” he said.
“Where the hell are Nasir and Evancar?” Aldreia asked.
“They're with-” but Joe shut up, glanced at the ceiling. He wasn't sure if anyone would be able to hear him, “They're with the others. I'll explain in a second. Come on, wake him up.”
…
…
Iandi could not be roused. He let out a loud complaint, turned over in his sleep, and continued muttering to his dreams. So they let him be, going down the long halls and staircases up to an observation lounge.
It was a smaller room. Stonemake, as the rest of the place, even the chairs were hewn by Pauldros. Unlike Luminary's room, which had been a natural cave paved over with glass, the entire wall had been expertly sheared away, replaced by a see-through wall formed by a metahuman by the name of Mime. Becenti was sitting at one of the chairs, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. He had taken off his suit jacket, leaving him with a rolled up dress shirt, revealing the tattoos on his arms. The man's eyes were sunken and purpled. He was staring, blankly, out the wide window, at the forests below.
Aldreia and Joe walked into the room. Becenti turned, his eyes landing on his protege. He stood up, shaking, and he seemed to be flickering between rage and relief.
“Cobalt Joe,” he said, “You're a bastard of a man, aren't you.”
He strode forward. All but slammed his hands onto his guildmate's shoulders.
“You better have a damn good reason for doing all of this,” he said.
“I do,” Joe muttered. He wasn't meeting Becenti's eyes.
No, couldn't.
“Dammit, Joe!” Becenti said, and shoved the younger man away, turned his back to him, paced around the room for a few moments, “What the hell is going on?!”
He glared at him.
“...Are we alone?” Joe asked.
“Yes,” Becenti growled, “We're alone.”
“I need to be sure,” Joe said, and he was fighting down his own irrational anger. He had never enjoyed being yelled at by fathers, or father-like figures, “Luminary has ears everywhere, doesn't she?”
“What does Luminary have to do with this?” Becenti said in an accusing tone, “Joe, you've fallen in with quite the crowd, haven't-”
And he studied his guildmate's face. The determination. The anxiety. The ill-repressed anger. He wasn't being fair to the young man, was he? He had an explanation.
Perhaps not a good one.
But one, at least, that made sense to him.
“Alright, Joe,” Becenti said, “...We're alone. Luminary hasn't... she hasn't sent anyone to look after me.”
“And the mountain?” Joe asked, “Walls don't have ears, do they?”
“Not here, as far as I can tell,” Becenti said.
Joe nodded. Looked at the wall. Looked out the window.
Looked hard at Becenti.
“There were people here before New Ludayans,” he said, “There still are.”
***
“Food,” Lunus Oculus said, “They need food. Amoeboy's willing to be a cover, but that'll only last so long. Gallimena and Prehistoric are about, they'll be able to investigate his farm further.”
She had called an emergency meeting with the rest of her people, or those who were around. Tallneck was passing out drinks at the table, which was situated in a wide-open space at the top of the tower, the ceiling stretching up almost twenty feet, easily enough room for the long-necked metahuman to walk around in. Glow was sitting at the table, though they did not accept a drink. Eksonis was there, too, but not Kehaulani, for she was tending to their son. The reptilian metahuman’s hands were balled into fists on the table, and he simply stared at its surface with a dark sort of rage. The Giant Northern Termite Queen sat in the corner, mumbling to herself, her termites eating their way out of her back, crawling down the long staircases to keep an eye on the doors and windows, in case anyone came knocking.
Rohahes and Tekahentakwa were standing apart from the table, watching the metahumans debate. They were whispering feverishly to each other, Eksonis and Tallneck occasionally glancing over at them. It was obvious with the reptile, even more so for the giraffe-necked.
“That's not a reasonable timeframe,” Eksonis said, “When do you think they'll find Amoeboy out?”
“Maybe by tomorrow,” Lunus Oculus said, “Cobalt Joe hit Prehistoric hard, but he'll be up and flying soon enough.”
A collective murmur of curses.
“We can start organizing now,” Lunus Oculus said, “Get people out there. Batty saw us coming in. Rumor's already begun to spread.”
“I see them here, I see them there,” the Giant Northern Termite Queen whispered, “People talking everywhere.”
She pointed a skeletal finger to a window. Indeed, there was a small crowd of Workers outside, just on the tower's perimeter. Watching and whispering, despite the lateness of the night.
Though that was becoming an early dawn.
“We can talk to them, then,” Lunus Oculus said, “Tell them the truth.”
“Is that wise?” Tallneck said, “I mean, it could set things off. Get the Warriors here.”
“We have to be ready for that,” Eksonis said, “Maybe we can warn them off. Have Dodeca distract the Council, or-”
“No, no, no,” Tallneck said, and he was starting to sweat, “That won't stop them. Lunus, you have to hide them. We'll have to be discreet, we'll-”
“That's not possible,” Lunus Oculus said, “The Oshya:de will come out of the west eventually. We can only hide them for so long.”
“This is true,” Tekahentakwa said, away from the table, “My brother is Warleader. If we do not get aid soon, we will have no choice but to aid ourselves.”
The table grimaced. Eksonis let out a low hiss.
“That won't be good for anyone,” he said.
“The Warriors will come anyway,” Glow said.
They were rubbing their chin, though with their shining form it was difficult to make out where hand ended and face began.
“This is...” they said, “A revelation that I do not believe anyone here expected.”
The table murmured assent to that. Glow continued pondering for a moment, though the way they were sitting told the room there was still more for them to say. So the table let them stew for a moment.
“It is a revelation that will break the nation in half,” they said, “But it a truth that will come out no matter what we do in the here and the now. What we have.... what we have is opportunity. To let the truth come out the way we want it.”
“You control our lives, then,” Tekahentakwa said.
Glow looked across the room at her. The Clan Mother glared at them.
“We are not something to be hidden,” she said.
“No one is saying that,” Eksonis said.
“You will be silent,” Tekahentakwa said, “This is not a debate. I do not know your people, but for the Oshya:de, any debate of this magnitude is done by Clan Mothers.”
“There are no Clan Mothers here,” Lunus Oculus said, “I understand your hesitation, Tekahentakwa.”
“Do you?” Tekahentakwa said, “My people starve, and you're here at the table.”
“We're trying,” Tallneck said, though his voice was weak, “It's just-”
Glow raised up a hand.
“This is a difficult position,” they said, “For all of us.”
Tekahentakwa tilted her head at the strange, moss-covered metahuman. There was a way they were speaking. A way they were moving. Slow and graceful, and they were patient, letting her choose her response. The others were deferring to them.
When Tekahentakwa did not reply, Glow continued.
“This is a Pandora's Box that has been opened,” they said, “Something that cannot be closed. The entire scope of this nation has changed. And things will get violent, especially for you and the Oshya:de.”
“We are prepared for violence,” Tekahentakwa said. Rohahes nodded in affirmation.
“Such violence can lead to genocide,” Glow said, “And our nation will become something else. Something darker. It is already going down that path, and it has hardly been a year. Look how militarized we are. Our distinctions between Warrior and Worker, those who can kill with their powers and those who cannot.”
Tekahentakwa walked forward. Stood at the table, laid a hand against its surface.
“...What are you saying?” she said.
“We are at a crossroads,” Glow said, “There are people who I feel will join you. Other metahumans. Warriors, too, when violence does arrive.”
“They will help us?” Tekahentakwa said.
“Yes,” Glow said, “It will be difficult. There will be trauma. But yes, they will help you. Their hearts are good.”
“We didn't...” Tallneck gulped, and Tekahentakwa could see the bulge of saliva drool as a bump down his throat, “We didn't come here for any of this. People will see that. They'll see themselves in you.”
Tekahentakwa studied the room. At the metahumans' faces. She sighed.
“Alright,” she said, “What do you suggest?”
***
Becenti was staring out the window again.
And Joseph could tell he had broken something in the old man. Aldreia looked sick to her stomach. She was sitting at the stone chair, hands between her knees, staring at the floor.
(Did Melitta know?)
Joseph, for his part, walked over beside Becenti. Looked out the window at-
At Ganá:yeht. The forests. The rivers and lakes. The wide open sky.
“...It's not true,” Becenti said.
Joe looked over at him.
“It can't be true,” Becenti said, and he walked away from the window. Paced across the room. Stopped at the stone table, rested his hands on the edges, “Joe, do not lie to me. Don't do this.”
“Man,” Joe said, “I'm sorry-”
“Don't say that!” Becenti roared.
Aldreia flinched. Joseph gave him a sad look.
“Don't look at me like that,” Becenti snapped, and he paced again. His face was a mixture, an ocean of emotions, anger above all else bubbling to the surface, breaking that stony facade that he always wore. He pointed a finger at Joseph.
“They're lying to you,” he said, “Lunus and the others. They... They're using a power. An illusion. Tricking you into a lie, Joe, you have to see that. You have to see that.”
“Becenti,” Joe said, “They're not.”
“I...” Becenti faltered.
And then heat flowed through his body. He stole what little there was in the room, and it flowered into a heavy club that he slammed into the table.
“It's always something!” his roar echoed through the room and down the halls, “Always something that comes up, or is in my way, or stops me! Always some goddamn excuse! Always!”
He slammed the table again. And again. This one with no heat, and the bottom of his knuckles bled.
His back was turned to Joseph and Aldreia. The cleric was still staring at the floor, in some vain attempt to spare Becenti his dignity.
The old man's back was shaking. He was crying, Joseph realized. Slow sobs, quiet and reserved, as much sorrow as Becenti allowed himself to reveal.
(He had already shown too much of himself as it was.)
Myron Becenti turned, and he was still failing to put on a professional mask. His bottom lip was trembling, and his eyes were bloodshot and empty.
“I'm tired,” he said, “So... so tired.”
“I know, Myron,” Joseph said.
Becenti went quiet again. Walked quietly over to the chair, and picked up his dress jacket.
Without another word, he put it on. Rebuttoned the waist. Adjusted the cuffs.
“The...” he said, “The Oshya:de. Where are they?”
“I can show you,” Joe said, “But we'll need to be quiet. If Luminary finds out...”
Becenti froze at this. Another wave of grief washed over him. Luminary. His friend.
She had done this.
His breathing quickened. Aldreia now stood up, walked over to him, patted him on the shoulder.
“Breathe, Becenti,” she said, “Breathe.”
“I...” Becenti allowed her to guide him to the chair, and he sat down, struggled to recompose himself.
He was clutching his chest. And, for a moment, Joseph feared that he would have a heart attack. But soon enough Becenti controlled himself. Looked as though he had been swimming in molasses. Looked as though he had run a marathon.
Above all, he looked old. Something Joseph had never seen in the man before. He called him old metahuman, in his head, but not in the way Becenti sat now, like a tired, decrepit thing in its winter years. He had never truly noted the crisscross of wrinkles and cracks on Becenti's face, like dried-up riverbeds, or the powder gray hue of his hair.
He looked up at his guildmate.
“Show me, Joe,” he said, “...Please.”