Sergeant Dorian is travelling to the Garda headquarters, with his superior, superintendent Fitzsimons.

The two had known each other for a while, the superintendent was the one who recommended him for the position.

They were going to Dublin, to discuss ‘the black hole’ in person with the commissioner.

Dorian had written a paper on ‘John Ireland’, or as they called him in Kerry, behind the scenes and on the streets...

Junk monkey.

The fact that this wave of copycat vigilantism has swept the country and the north, and that it all began quietly in Tralee, it was more than strange.

The working theory that Dorian had reported was that ‘junk monkey’ and ‘John Ireland’ were the same person, which wasn’t a stretch. Neither vigilante had been sighted in months.

The suspect could have gotten involved with the syndicate that moved into Tralee, that he had gotten in over his head. They held him at gun point and had him shipped back up north. From security footage recovered from the site, he somehow unlocked his cell from the other side, rallied others to his cause, armed guards and hostages alike. From there he somehow tunnelled a hole out of the chambers to freedom.

He warned the Northern Ireland Police of the danger, and then vanished.

There was no trace amounts of the chemical weapons he and those present described, or ‘explosives’, as he said. Despite this, it has been accepted as fact that John Ireland, whoever he was, died from whatever substances he’d been introduced to.

There were around 80 individuals arrested, and twenty hostages rescued. Fourteen dead were recovered and identified.

None wore the costume.

The express train jumped on the track, as the made it into the city centre. It stopped, but not for them. It was strange, being in full uniform and yet sitting on a dingy train with all sorts of people.

“He’s a damn martyr,” the superintendent sighed.

It took Dorian a moment to understand what he was referring to, then as the train started moving, he noticed that the old train yard walls had been graffitied. It was quite masterful, actually. Most depictions like it were just two whites encircled by black rings with a green cap and stalk. This one was inspired by the security footage in the janitor’s closet, when he poked his head through the ground. Here it was poking out through the wall in the same way.

The footage was confidential material, but somehow it leaked. It inspired the public, many joked that it was like Die hard and that was where the name ‘John Ireland’ came from. They were becoming endeared to him. That was the major issue.

Once the train got to their stop, they found a car that had been prepared for them, and it was only five minutes till they were at the headquarters. The courtyard was open to the public in more peaceful times at least, now it had been closed off to the people.

Dorian watched the news, and he was afraid they’d have to wade through an inquiring mob, but thankfully that wasn’t the case, the accusations had died down.

Going through all the different desks and secretaries, they eventually arrived at the waiting area outside the Commissioner's office.

“Remember Sergeant don’t overstep yourself. Reaffirm the report and answer any questions he has.”

Sergeant Dorian nodded, “Yes sir.” There was plenty that he had seen that he’d kept quiet about already. Though the commissioner had invited them here, a reason had not been given, only that the sergeant would provide specialist information on the subject.

Commissioner Harris opened the door on his own, greeting the two with a smile, “Good morning superintendent, sergeant, I'd ask if you enjoyed the ride, but I know you didn’t, I’m on that bloody thing near everyday myself, haha.”

Even this was a sort of formality, Dorian thought as he laughed along.

Going into the office that notion was confirmed, already ten other members of the force, old and grey, sat around an elliptical table. The two travellers stood at the opposite end from commissioner Harris.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

Dorian nodded, “yes sir, as you know we’ve seen a significant rise in violent crimes following the black hole incident, as well as distrust from the public. Many have lost faith in the system, as many within the PSNI covered up what was happening right under the streets of Belfast. Though the Garda has had no involvement in these bribes or corruption, the people of the republic are still stirred against us.”

“The fact that a group of wealthy individuals have headed such a large criminal organisation has lessened their faith in government, in the system. It doesn’t help that the main individual in question marketed himself as a... superhero. That is what inspires these copy-cats.”

The others gathered at the table were silent and listening, while the commissioner jumped in, “As included in your article. You also claimed to have studied the suspect before ‘black hole’, that’s what I'm most interested in.”

“Yes sir,” he blindly agreed. “Stories about him had been floating around going on six months. He assaulted people in the street, seriously injuring a confirmed total of seven people while he’s been operating in Tralee. He has also been linked to four arsons, just prior to ‘black hole’.” Dorian hesitated on one point, “I also personal encountered him at the scene of a bank robbery.”

One of the men at the side spoke up, “This information hasn’t been made public?”

The superintendent spoke up, “Public relations specialists advised against it. Though it might seem like a good way to discredit him, at the height of his popularity, it may instead serve to further radicalise certain individuals. The current plan is to wait for things to die down, and then release this information to the public.” Dorian nodded along.

The commissioner again reclarified, shuffling a sheaf of paper. “What I’m interested in, Sergeant Dorian, is your comment on the recent break-ins and those arsons. You have written here, in support of your claim that John Ireland has inspired and is responsible for these recent inter-criminal conflicts. That it follows his ‘MO’, being quick, hard, and precise, and leaving significant property and structural damage.”

A slip of the tongue, or pen, on Dorian’s part.

“Yes sir, I thought it... relevant to draw a comparison between the two.”

The commissioner nodded, “While we assume that all these instances of vigilante drug busts are independent of each other, would this ‘quick, hard, and precise’ nature not be indicative of a wider information network? They need to know where the dens are, easy enough with a little street smarts, but that’s not all they're digging up. They clean the place of cash, drugs, they even hit production facilities, freeing any forced labour persons.”

Dorian forgot; the commissioner was an inspector once himself.

He checked with the super intendent, who did not acknowledge him.

“It was a hypothesis on my mind too, but it didn’t sound realistic. It would imply a trans-border organisation, of martial experts all dedicated to this... superhero fantasy.”

The commissioner smiled, “Maybe it’s not as fantastical as we think.”

He turned to his men, “Occam’s razor. There was no trace of any biological weapons as our ‘John’ described. Think about this from his perspective, he’s gone from a nobody, to the centre of attention in this country and further. He came out of that hole with trained killers, men with a wide range of knowledge on the north and of the south. I’d say whoever those men are, they are currently under his employ. Belfast’s informants are now his”

One of his councillors leaned in, “Harris, are you implying that one man is at the centre of hundreds of thousands of euros in drugs and cash? That he’s somehow grown to a- a kingpin in little over a month?”

The commissioner breathed, “No. I'm saying that it’s simply more logical a conclusion than this man dying from a disease. We have images of a couple of the armed individuals with him when he broke out, with their faces clearly in frame. We need to make arrests. We find these individuals, potentially the man behind the mask, and then we release his crimes to the public, show them who he really is.”

Harris stood, walking around the table and by the window, “Cross reference their profiles with known criminals in the north and south, minor misdemeanours, everything.”

He clicked a remote, and a television screen flickered on. Two individuals had been zoomed in on, their faces grainy, but the basic shape of their faces and bodies was enough.

The first individual was a woman, brown haired, her skin discoloured in the footage and appearing blue. Tall, toned, a clear leader role among the unaccounted armed troops in the hole. The second was a rank and file, he’d removed his helmet to speak with John Ireland. He was fat and dark skinned, his head waxed bold, but he could have easily changed that.

“These are our suspects. Tralee will be a hotspot from now on gentlemen.”

Dorian was shocked, the superintendent reminded, “Sir there hasn’t been any vigilante activity in that area since ‘black hole’.”

The commisioner smiled, “The town with the strongest history of vigilantism suddenly goes quiet? I’d think there should be more activity there than anywhere else.”

He opened a window, smelling the air, “A man likes to sit in peace for a while. Where else if not his own home?”

Commisioner Harris looked to them again, “I’m sure there’s a man under that mask gentlemen.”

‘A man’ Dorian thought. No.

What sort of man can jump over a damn building?

.

.

.

The CFO of the Internationals, Yoshida Lindenberg is travelling to the yearly meeting in Canaan, Brazil with his old superior, Head of Research Dr. Attrition.

The two had known each other for a while, the doctor was the one who recommended him for the position.

The were going to City C, to discuss all of the events post June, and their plans moving forward, all with the CEO himself.

Yoshida was ecstatic, but Attrition had informed him that there would be very little discussion on his achievements as City head, the other chief officers and department heads would have very little interest in what was going right in the world. They would only discuss the attack on Babel, the individuals involved as well as their whereabouts.

Individuals such as the Channeler, Clover, Charlie k. Parker, Isaac Cre-umha...

Shamrock.

The doctor was keen on seeing to that one specifically. Word was spreading, the Unit had been put on the company's radar after Babel, but since then he had routed six Units from his own territory, both International and Mountain affiliates.

The doctor was worried the head of the Exterminators was going to mobilise a task force to take him out. She was absolutely focused on aligning their departments’ interests with her own.

The two had been standing in a designated portal room, when the Vortech worm hole opened in the ground.

Yoshida scratched at his head, sweating, “Is it safe for all highest ranking members to go through another companies' transporter?”

Attrition fixed her coat before going through, “If you’re worried about whether or not the person coming out of the other end is a duplicate with our memories or yourself, the chances of that being the case are insignificant.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

With a bend of the foot, the woman fell through face first.

Yoshida flinched at that, before tightening his tie and scooting along after.

He came out of the other end with great difficulty, a guard pulling him up and out.

“But, if you’re wondering if it’s safe for all of us to go travel under someone else's pathway, then you’d be right to worry. However, you could just as easily be killed by any other Unitary anomaly. The Channeler could be freed at any time, and he’d be right outside your office.”

Yoshida swallowed, “Please, I'd rather not think about that.”

Someone clapped his back, “Then that’ll be the first topic!” Yoshida jumped out of his skin, and the hand laughed harder when the engineer of excess turned to see who slapped him.

“Russel Howard. Head of Exterminators. Chief Sales Officer. And I’m mayor of City C.” Yoshida perhaps wasn’t fully prepared to meet him, “Beast butcher,” he gaped.

Mr Howard lavished in the title, “No, no, it was a coordinated effort. I might have fought the Sun and Sky with a bare chest, but that’s beside the point, it’s a pleasure Mr Lindenberg. I hear you rival even Axel Right in robotics.”

The gravity of gods was an older man, but far fitter than Yoshida had ever been. The man was a living legend, that Shamrock guy modelled himself as a hero, but Russel Howard was Herculean.

Yoshida blushed and shook his head, “Oh, I'm simply a contemporary-”

Dr Attrition dispensed with the pleasantries, “Beast Butcher. Fitting seeing as you slaughtered the more harmless of the two.”

The Exterminator turned away from Yoshida, “Charity! how long has it been?”

“Long enough for the Sky Beast to escape.”

Russel waved a hand and marched on down the carpet that had been laid out for his guests. His office was far more isolated and lavish than Yoshida’s. It was like a castle, banners and tapestries decorated the walk to the hero’s room.

“It was June, Charity, what the hell’s a man supposed to do?”

Their was a hiss in the doctor's voice, “Butcher it.”

Yoshida thought back on the situation with the Jungle Beast, how adamant the doctor had been that the Beast must not be killed. His gut knotted.

“Listen Chari, we can talk about the mistakes of our younger years later, right now, I think it’s more important that we talk about the here and now, the future.”

The gravity of gods opened the door for them, and they entered the conference room. Marble pillars stretched in the corners, glistening against the light-sphere dancing in the centre of the room high into the open concept above. Below was a state-of-the-art holographic projector in front of them. Not only were objects and statistics perfectly presented, three dimensional maps could be presented easily, which had been impossible five years ago.

Two other people had already seated themselves at the dark wood desk. They were of little concern to the engineer of excess- there were all sorts of incredible trophies on display, the sun beasts' tooth which was as big as Yoshida, though bent into itself by the beast butcher. The helmet of Arnuliad, which was an object capable of granting Unitary status to anyone, though an agent hadn’t been deemed worthy of it.

Dr Attrition prodded him on, as she greeted the others in his stead, “Lloyd, how have you been?” The researcher she was talking to smiled, “Great doctor! As you can see, we’re seeing breakthroughs in light-matter, it might not be long until I've gone Unitary myself!”

Yoshida didn’t recognise the smiling man, which Attrition anticipated, “Yoshida, this is Lloyd Morales, acting CIO following Egypt.” Yoshida jumped to life, “The creator of the transcogitate’s partner! Yes, it’s great to meet you!”

The researchers smile twitched at the mention of the mechanism, but Yoshida wasn’t one to notice.

Trying to keep the ball rolling, he introduced himself to the other person. “Yes, and you’re Gene Kumar! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

The woman in front of him was dripping. Separate metal objects fixed to her nose, mouth, and throat respectively, but still, a sort of solution leaked from her skin. The sickly green skin of the COO stretched to fit the black metal, like it was a part of the skull.

“IT IS MY... PLEASURE.” Her voice was like the breath of a train.

It was a masculine voice that came from the voice box. Yoshida sunk away from the Head of the Cleaners.

“Alright, let’s get things started, shall we?” Mr Howard closed the door with a point of his finger, and a great thump.

The light lowered at its master’s command, as the first holo-slide projected.

“But the CEO hasn’t arrived,” Yoshida pointed out.

“Yes, and he never will,” Attrition explained, “If Adam was concerned with the events of this June, then he would have organised a meeting a month ago.”

“Oh,” Yoshida replied.

They carried on with the meeting, first going through with events concerning City D and Gene Kumar. They discussed the minute changes in the Reef and Ocean beast’s patterns, and they spoke of H.Y.D.R.A’s next concert. It was lesser news, but it was highly important to shipping and political relations.

Asia and Australia were quiet, the former being of little concern to their organisation. The Mladnets and Schism would solve their own problems, keeping to themselves as usual. The pacific was quiet.

They would normally move on to City E, but that would come later. They glossed over Lloyd’s work, as there was little to speak about. They avoided discussion on Canada, that had proven a hot topic, which no one truly wanted to waste time with.

They eventually came to City C, and Howard Russel’s responsibilities. The doctor was on him like a shark.

“Sky Beast Tah-tah-kle'-ah has escaped confinement, and must be eliminated by any means necessary, before it begins to unravel reality.”

Mr Russel half whined, “Come on Chari! You don’t honestly believe that’s the most pressing matter, your still obsessed with this damn grudge of yours.”

She rolled her eyes, “There is a monster out there that is beyond human intellect, that can distort space time as it sees fit, that was a known range of one hundred and fifty million kilometres, and it is currently on track for the Midwest.”

The Exterminator rolled his eyes, “Your sure this isn’t a personal vendetta? Against the bird and me? Half a dozen war lords and monsters are rampaging across Africa right now, some are even joining up with the Mountain, and your biggest concern is still some bumfuck state. For all we know, the Mountain’s got their guys searching the Cairo gulf for our tech!”

Attrition fought back, “That’s handy. Point at another problem while we’re talking about the ones you caused for the rest of us, for me.”

He tried to calm her, “I’ll handle it. It simply isn’t something I can pool all my resources into. Half the guys who helped me take her down the first time are dead, and I'm getting old Chari.”

“I understand you can’t do it in a year, but it’s something that needs to be taken care of. This is a rare case where we actually can.”

Howard nodded, “Fine. Send me Exterminators from Babel that’re fit for the case.”

Attrition looked at Yoshida, and he sat up, “Yes, yes we can certainly afford that.”

After a silent moment, he realised they were moving on to him.

“Right, well, City B has been restored to it’s former self all research specimens have been recaptured or executed. Unitary prisoners have- have not. Harrison Fritz has returned to the conflict in Canada, and the assassin ‘Split-body’ is back to work.”

“THE CHANNELER?” Gene asked.

“He, uhm, well he’s still in stasis. The ‘time ball’ is locked in Earth’s gravitational orbit, moving with the planet and keeping him in place in our logistics room. Charlie K. theorises that after an indeterminate amount of time has passed, the gravitation bond will break, and the field will destabilise.”

Howard pointed, “That’s what you need for the sky beast, this Charlie k, she’s being looked after? Kept content?”

Attrition nodded, “There is no chance whatsoever of her defecting. I’ve done an evaluation. Her connections all lead back to us. I know the report says that she claimed to have relations to Clover and Shamrock, but that was simply a favour for her brother.”

“This brother can be trusted?”

“This brother is an agent I scouted,” Attrition smiled, “He has formed a connection with the Unit in Ireland, Shamrock.”

“An interesting character,” Russel Howard said. “An antagonistic one,” Dr Attrition added, “yet he’s kept to himself, to a country of little interest to us or the Mountain.”

Yoshida felt like he needed to comment, to seem politically knowledgeable, “But that’s changing, our experts speculate that a ‘strange zone’ is forming there.”

Howard treated that seriously. “Is that your observation Dr Attrition?”

She chose her words very carefully, “Over the last ten months, a myriad of supernatural events have occurred in Ireland, up until a month ago, seven or more Units were living there, and many more have visited the area briefly, to be hyper specific, a small town called Tralee. Our intel says that number has dropped to one. Just Shamrock.”

Gene’s eyes though grey and swamp-like, flickered, “GOOD OR BAD?”

The doctor went on, “It’s too early to tell if that will plaquette the ‘strangeness’. Points that I will get onto suggest that it will not. That it this is simply a sort of... chrysalis period. The making of a strange zone hasn’t been observed directly in nearly a hundred years, areas such as what-was-Egypt are, usually, temporary hot spots, generated by June unlike the cities prior to biomechanical integration.”

Yoshida couldn’t sense their unease. Nor their hunger.

“The mountain can’t be allowed that territory,” Howard declared, “The possible troops and Units it could produce... beyond that, we need to design what sort of zone will be created.”

“A NEW CITY.” The sludge gleamed in Gene’s gloam eyes.

“I have plans,” Dr Attrition mused. The gravity of the gods clenched its fist smiling fondly at the mind before him, “No one in this universe would dream of better. Paint us your picture.”

She stood, and paced over to the projector’s port, inserting a stick into it.

Yoshida had felt a sort of pride being here at such an exciting prospect, but this was the first time he’d seen the doctor’s plans.

His smile died as the image and file projected. His heart sank.

The Maker of Machines appeared on screen.

He looked to the others, consideration on their face.

“Two reasons. If Axel Right is made the centre of this zone, then a technological revolution will begin, one that may even grow to encompass the world in time. It would be a country post scarcity in time, one where all worries are tended to by artificial intelligences completely loyal to their owner.”

Lloyd spoke up, “That sounds great, but is this really the man for such a position? Can he be trusted with that power?”

“No,” Attrition easily answered, “He is a narcissist, but that is both an advantage, and a disadvantage for us. Mr Right asked for Ireland to be marked as his territory, he was denied due to stronger claims from the organisation in Belfast and the Mountain. If we don’t give it to him after both opponents are eliminated, then he would take it as a slight.”

Yoshida picked at her now, “Shamrock is still alive.”

“We will get to him,” she hushed, “The truth is that with the loss of Egypt, we do need a new city near Europe, to pressure the Mountain and to reassure the countries already allied with us. The architect is dead, we won’t get a biomechanical one. But we can get one made of hard steel. It’s the best option amid poor circumstances.”

Howard laughed, “When is it not!” Then he turned savage, “but the CFO has a point. How are we planning on taking care of Shamrock? He has ties to the Mountain, ties to Clover, and if she cries Bastard will... who can say what he’ll do.”

Dr Attrition clarified, “We are not assassinating anyone,” she clicked the slide on, “but we aren’t going to save him either.”

A sloth like creature without hindlegs appeared on screen.

“This,” the good doctor gestured, “Is jungle beast Tlaloc. It was relocated to the Amazon without issue. To go into detail concerning its physiognomy, the sloth portion of it comprises only 55% of it’s mass, around 45% of it is a mutated genus of plant capable of rapidly reproducing and evolving, this has effictively created a new kingdom of life.”

She clicked through various photos, dating back nearly two hundred years. Various animal-like organisms were shown dissected and alive, in various forms only coincidentally similar to animals, or even people.

“Currently, 5 of the 81 monsters exist within this ecosystem, not all of them originating from it, but all of them living symbiotically with it. The ecological threat and destructive capabilities of these organisms are the reason Tlaloc is designated as a beast.”

“The five monsters live independently of each other, claiming different territories on the island sized Tlaloc’s back. During the conflict in Babel, Shamrock unfortunately ended up here-” she tapped the back of the beast and the image enhanced.

Yoshida stared with a tilt in his head at the apex monster of that area.

“I gleamed this information from Shamrock while we were running tests on him. Upon hearing this information, I made sure to hide his memory of the creature in question, fuzzy as they were. Those tests are how I know that this creature can handle him. Shamrock is alone. The odds are even.”

Russel shook his head, “I won’t transport this thing across the Atlantic if that’s what your thinking.”

“There is no need. The specimen is tenacious. It has a near global range, and it will stalk a victim like death. It will not leave it’s intended target for a closer prey. Once an individual catches its interest, that’s it. I’ve run the calculations, accounted for detours. It’s as slow as a slug, but assuming it left in July, then its currently over halfway across the atlantic.”

“You’re absolutely certain it won’t target a high enough population of Units?”

She smiled, “I’ve done my research. In the sixties it flew over the continental US and two super cities. It didn’t divert its path.”

The beast butcher leaned forward, “And if it can’t neutralise him?”

Dr Attrition’s face was tactfully unreadable, “Then a dangerous monster will be neutralised, and Axel will go to Ireland and reunite with the man who saved his life half a year ago. And I’ll personally ensure that there are no problems.”

Yoshida leaned, “Doctor, is it really alright for you to abandon your research for such a reason?”

Another shrug, “I need a vacation.”

Yoshida slumped back as they carried on, “Concerning Egypt,” they started.

“...Clover and an unidentified Unit, presumably Fomorian have migrated south of...”

Yoshida was too drained to listen by this point.

Him. Again.

Just as Yoshida had something over him, Right would be worshiped as the innovative genius, founder of ‘F City’, or whatever he wanted to call it.

Yoshida knew the man was truly better than him, but the fact that he was so carefree and self-indulgent, where the engineer of excess was working day and night to maintain the same standard...

It was infuriating.

“I, uh, excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.”

The whole room looked at him, and eventually, Russel Howard himself smiled, and nodded, “Of course! I’ve heard those portals can give you shits. My secretary will show you the way.”

He swiped his finger and the door opened.

Yoshida stood, a little hesitant at first, “Excuse me,” and then he was out the door.

It swung closed behind him.

“What a pathetic fuck,” Howard breathed, “God, you made the right choice Chari, better to keep your autonomy and let someone else take the fall for the inevitable shitfest that’s gonna break out in Babel.”

The doctor licked her lips and sighed, “He was better suited for the job.”

“The job Adam has for him,” he laughed, “to be lynched, assassinated, or irradiated by that fucking black hole outside Greems’ office.”

“A MAN... that is all.”

“Men are disposable,” the gravity cursed.

The doctor looked to her other student, who’d kept quiet. Lloyd was in a very similar position as Yoshida. She couldn’t look at him very long. Not long at all.

“Out of curiosity Chari, what do you think will actually happen concerning that Irish guy?

“Honestly,” she sighed, “I expect the worse. For him... and for us.”