I looked up at the League building, fully geared up, yet not entirely ready for this.

It had been a surprise for both Stacy and myself that the Director had agreed almost immediately to meet me. As soon as I was able to get here. Roxy had switched to her bossy self, trying to get me ready like I was a child late for school. She seemed to be a stickler for being on time—at least when the League was involved.

I drove my van off to the shop and paid for a repaint. Even coerced the man into giving me the option of replacing the large headlights with a bulb that could change color. I was still building my image, even with the slight chance I wouldn’t have one after this meeting.

So I had walked the rest of the way over here. It wasn’t too far and gave my brain some time to organize my thoughts. Roxy had been supportive, but anxious about what I had planned. I wasn’t just kicking the hornet’s nest, but instead just punting it straight into a grizzly bear.

But there was something I was starting to realize.

I wasn’t just a killer. Not entirely. I could cook. I could make friends. I could have thoughts that didn’t revolve around murder.

Perhaps I had just excelled at killing because I had a handful of traits that I was just an expert in, and that was one of them due to my prior work. I knew in the back of my mind that I wasn’t even the best fighter in the squad. I was more of a… negotiator?

My eyes narrowed at the revolving doors. Given the last week or so, that title was a puzzle piece that fit all too well. It was time to see how accurate it was.

With a sigh, I stepped forward through the doors and into the wide open lobby. Miguel was there, as expected—and his face lit up at seeing me.

“Gunquake!” he said, as I walked over. “Pleasure to see you again.”

[You too, Miguel.]

“Director Kingston is ready and waiting for you. Best of luck.” The old man gave me a wink.

I nodded in return, unsure as to what to say—or how much he really knew. There was a chance that his ability allowed him to have ears and eyes on the whole building, although I hoped some places had privacy. I went over to the elevator and stood inside it.

A small wave of vertigo weighed on me as I moved upward. My wandering thoughts had me questioning why the security here felt so low. I could have walked up and shot Miguel in the face easily enough—for all the good that would do. The elevators wouldn’t work and nobody would be able to get to the higher floors. Maybe it just being the site of so many supers made it far too dangerous to try crossing.

I made a note to look up what powerful villains were at large.

Elevator stopped, and the doors opened up. A different floor than last time, but a quick glance at the layout presented put any worries about finding the right door to rest. There was a small lobby, and then an office door straight ahead. That was it. Director Kingstons private office.

As I glanced around at the handful of comfortable looking chairs, the office door cracked and opened slightly. He really was ready for me immediately. With one last sigh to ground myself, I went and pushed through. It immediately reminded me of Ren’s office.

Mostly because of the mass of screens adorning each wall, but instead of stock prices and sales fluctuations, it was all hero-related. Popularity charts, crime rates, several different news feeds, and the biggest monitor on the wall to his left had the team rankings. The one opposite had individual rankings, something I hadn’t really considered at any point. There was a listing for most popular, as well as one for highest earnings—although the actual names appeared blurred to my eyes, as if it was protected in some manner.

The Director was seated behind a desk filled will very neatly organized paperwork. Five trays in total, with sharp-edged files in small stacks. Some loose pages that he had been reading through were in a pile that looked aligned millimeter perfect.

“Gunquake,” he said, his fingers already steepled in front of his face. “Please take a seat.”

[Thank you, I appreciate you seeing me at such short notice.]

He nodded, but his impassive expression didn’t change. “I am most curious as to why a hero going through their trials would request a meeting with me directly. This could have ramifications to your progress.”

[Unfortunately, we both know why I am here. How secure are we to talk?]

The Director’s eyes narrowed slightly, before he made a gesture with his fingers—the engraved tips glowing red briefly. “Nobody will hear anything now. We limited time, however.”

[Is that some arbitrary pressure in the hopes I’ll spill more than intended?]

He remained stoic for a brief moment, before a wry smile curled up at the sides of his mouth. “You truly are smarter than your own good.”

It was a relatively straightforward plan on his part. There was a hope that in being tight-lipped, he could prompt me to fill the gaps with things he might not know. The charade with Roy and Snake this morning should have been first on the itinerary, and I knew better to think he was ignorant over what had happened—even if Stacy ate up my lies like pancakes.

[If you are under the impression that I came to fill your head with information, I am sorry to disappoint.]

“Oh?” He tilted his head. “What do you mean, Gunquake?”

[You know what I was. What I am. Let’s not play these games.]

He stretched out his fingers and rested his hands on the desk, looking at it for a brief moment before raising an eyebrow at me. “I was under the impression you were suffering amnesia. Has it started easing up?”

[Some fog has lifted, but plenty remains. Perhaps there are some details you know that I do not. There may be things I know that you do not. How we meet in the middle will be difficult for the both of us with our current relationship.]

“Very true.” He nodded slowly. “So what brings you to this meeting of held tongues and writhing secrets?”

[I have something to request of you, with something to offer in return.]

The Director stared at me in contemplation, before leaning back in his chair. He raised a hand up to inspect his nails—which I noted still retained a slight glow to them—before his gaze returned to me. “I will hear you out, but I want you to know this is highly irregular. Under other circumstances… well, please go ahead.”

I was starting to get a better grip on who I was. After bouncing back from impossible odds and life-ending injuries, I understood my limits. What I was willing to do to win, and to protect those I now cared about. That meant I also knew my when violence wasn't the answer, and when to use my softer skills to seek out success.

[I need the League’s help in protecting my home.]

“Oh?” He gave me a bemused frown. “The cloaking technology and one of our best strength supers by your side isn’t enough?”

[Last night, a World Government drone tried to assassinate one of us.]

Any humor immediately left his face. “Shit. Are you certain?”

It was a rhetorical question. He knew the likelihood of it happening, and it not being something that I would just make up.

[They activated their self-termination once we found them. Magically cloaked.]

He nodded, his thought-filled eyes turning back to me, reading between the lines. “We thought we had more time before the bastards started sniffing around. It sounds like they aren’t certain it was you.”

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have used magic to hide.

[I’m not keen to have a bunch of dead Agents littering my lawn. You also don’t want the fallout if one of us died.]

It didn’t take much to imagine Roxy’s fury, or my cold vengeance streak—even Clara had the potential to be destructive. We were all potential powder kegs while under this constant threat, and it would be better for everyone involved if we were kept safe and happy. That was one of the roles the League provided to supers. The Director knew this and was running through the same train of thought.

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with greater politics,” he begun, sighing and steepling his fingers again. “But… it might come as a surprise to learn the Government doesn’t get on too well with the League.”

[The power you control is a threat?]

He smiled, dryly. “Essentially, yes. The League of Heroes draws in nearly every person with powers on the continent, due to the life they can live here. Some… the Gov gets to first. We have our own way of maintaining control of what is essentially a bunch of toddlers with the strength to level buildings or melt brains.”

I nodded along. From my current experiences, superheroes were pretty much the same as regular people. A mixed bag of assholes with the awkward flaws and drab problems no different from everyone else. They were just powerful and could wreak havoc on the world if given the opportunity.

The League was part super-daycare, part commercial enterprise. Using the heroes like action figures to solve enough crime to keep them busy, without… well, they probably allowed some manner of villainy to persist to keep the heroes occupied. There was some cruelty in there. A facade that left a sour feeling in my stomach.

Something better than what the World Government would offer, if my prior life was any indication.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“They’ve tried to negotiate their way into the League’s boardroom for a decade. We know that they’d only bring destabilization, pushing anarchy so that they could point a finger and say that things aren’t working out. Then they’d break us down, do who knows what with the supers, and take full control over Goldarch.”

[And if the superheroes fought back?]

“War,” he said, plainly. “Which nobody wants. You’re only seeing the blunt end of what the World Government is capable of. They are like… a sleeping dragon. They’ll huff and glare as their kobold minions mess around inefficiently, but they can draw on a standing army from every city on the continent. Sleeper agents in Goldarch already, no doubt.”

[They’ve tried to infiltrate the League?]

“Of course.” His hands clenched into fists briefly. “While we have flaws of our own, I can tell you hand-on-heart that our vetting process is as airtight as humanly possible…”

[So you’re saying there’s a chance.]

“If so, they haven’t gained anything. In regards to your safety issue, there are certain strings I can pull… I’m sure you’re aware that you are somebody’s pet project.”

[Seems to be a common theme in my life.]

He gave me another wry smile. “So, what is it you are offering in return?”

We had reached a level of candor that was approaching casual, but he was still keeping me at arm's length. Part of me had hoped I could charm everything I wanted from him with little issue, but I had a feeling it would need to be more of a give and take.

[You caught the news this morning, I take it?]

“Of course. Quite the result for Captain Snaps.” He tilted his head. “Not usually something that he would do of his own volition. Plus, with that delivery driver, who is a known contact of yours…”

It stood to reason that the League would know about Van Michaels. Even if they couldn’t put an eye on our homes, they would have seen the vehicle making trips out to the outskirts where we were.

[Then I probably don’t need to tell you I arranged the whole thing. I needed to get out of the trial mission as I had prior contact with the smuggler.]

The Director furrowed his brow. “That’s rather brazen of you. You realize that is enough of a red flag that we could cancel your application and possibly press charges?”

[You won’t, though. You’ve been watching me for years, and know fully well what I am. That’s part of the reason you even want me, isn’t it? If the League needs a vigilante to carry out some of the dirtier work, I’m all yours. I will bolster and drag Rockslide’s team up the rankings, and help you against the World Government.]

His expression relaxed, and he spent a few moments of silence just observing me. “How much contact do you have with the person you know as 'Boss'?”

[None. I told him I would no longer work for him and he cut contact, said you were getting too close to him.]

“Hmm.” The Director picked up a pen and pulled a sheet of paper closer to make some notes.

[You know him by another name, then?]

He paused and looked up at me. “Naturally. He was only a boss to you.”

[And the other Agents.]

There were the most minute changes in his face. The stoic expression had come close to breaking, but in some ways it was enough of an answer. It had only been me. Even the supposed Agent who had been killed at the science lab… was just an excuse to get me there. Seemed obvious, in a way.

[Do you know their actual name and relation to me?]

I was giving up the fact that I was ignorant of some things, but I hoped that he might think I was bluffing him. Either way, my curiosity got the best of me.

“Yes,” the Director said. “There was a good reason we were trying to hunt him down. Finding you wasn’t quite the next best thing, but I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

[So you sent Rockslide over to pry the information from me.]

“No, Gunquake. We sent Rockslide so that she would drag her friend into the picture. Clara isn’t clued in on that fact, but she’s smart. I’m sure the three of you worked out it wasn’t just a coincidence.”

[I’m assuming you won’t want to fill in some of the empty spaces in my brain, in regards to my past?]

He shook his head. “You make good on your promise, Gunquake, and we’ll talk. Some in the League… aren’t fans of your existence, shall we say. I see your potential, but you have to walk inside the lines before I let you loose. You’re already getting as lenient a passage as I’m able to swing—so you’ll need to complete your trials.”

[Understood. Just the home safety is all I request at present.]

“It will be done. Expect a truck to come by this evening. They will require this code…” he slid a piece of paper across the desk, five digits written out. “Just so that you know it’s from me. You’re a high value asset, Gunquake… even if you are not fully realized or can’t understand it yet.”

I nodded and placed the note in one of my pouches. My side quest for this meeting had been to try to eke out more information about myself. It looked to be pointless at this stage, as the man was being rightfully tight-lipped. However, I hadn’t been shot in the head or arrested, so things were going better than my worst-case scenario.

[Is there anything you are ready to tell me at this point?]

The Director sucked at his teeth and leaned back in the chair. His eyes looked upward to the ceiling, digging through the horde of information I wished I could just beat out of his skull. In a nice way.

“Goldarch is…” he exhaled through his nose, changing tact. “There’s a certain amount of trouble we allow—a balance to keep heroes busy while minimizing risk to the citizens. There are… shall we say, third parties who don’t care to play a role in the safety of our city. Goldarch will soon have more problems than we can handle, and we will require someone like you… and possibly your team, to help correct some attitudes.”

[By means of unreported violence, no doubt. Also, the team is still under the control of Rockslide.]

He shrugged. “It matters not who steers the ship, Gunquake. Only that it arrives at port.”

I nodded, for lack of a better response. Even if I had a bit more experience with organizing a group, and certainly knew how to solve problems, I could never be the face of the team. It was horrifying enough that there might be Gunquake merch and public relation missions in my future. Roxy could deal with the people side of things as far as I was concerned.

“One last thing before we’ll call this to a close,” the Director said, leaning forward and placing his hands on the desk. “Just between us. I do not expect you to keep your nose clean, so if you’re skirting the law to become what you need to be… then do so. There is a limit, however, where even my vouching for you will not save your skin. All I ask is you stay loyal to the League.”

[We’d best hope I pass my trials then.]

He leaned back and smiled. “That we shall, Gunquake. I’m sure you’ll hear from us soon.” His hands came up and his fingernails dulled to their normal color.

[Thank you for seeing me.]

I gave him a nod and stood. Left, through the lobby and back into the elevator. I had… gotten what I wanted. The League would protect us. We’d have to wait until later to see how exactly they planned to do that, but my hopes were… middling. Maybe not very fair, but if I put on some pessimism now, then I could be pleasantly surprised later.

[Have a good day, Miguel.]

“You too, Gunquake.” The man at the front desk gave me a wide grin and a nod as I left the elevator and went to the door.

I had some time to kill before picking my vehicle back up. First port of call would be to update the others to say I wasn’t executed or anything terrible. I stepped through the revolving doors and into the sunshine. Wrinkling up what little face I had, instead of bringing up my lense to send some messages, I looked over to the side where a familiar face was signing some autographs.

After she had done the deed and given the pair of teenagers some prepared lines, Belle turned and noticed me. Now in her layered pearlescent robes and full outfit once more, she almost looked like a different person.

“Gunquake,” she said, smiling and stepping over closer immediately. “What good grace that we cross paths. It must be fate, guided by Him.”

[Are you going in? I was just leaving.]

She shook her head and gestured down the road. “Let us walk. I have many of his virtues to discuss with you… as we move away from here.”

Getting the hint, I turned and strolled down the pavement with her. It wasn’t until we’d cleared the block that she glanced around before deflating slightly.

“Thanks, Dubs. Honestly, being around you is like having a cigarette break.”

[Didn’t take you long to come around, did it?]

She rolled her eyes. “Having the other two hanging off of your arms has clearly given you an ego. Much like cigarettes, too much is a bad thing. A break is nice, but I do need my connection to Him.”

[Of course. I wouldn’t want to be stepping on so many toes anyway.]

“I’m single, actually, and you’re not my type.” She adjusted her grip on her elaborately decorated book. “Is that all you think about?”

[You might be right about the ego thing. Apologies. Did Roxy tell you what we got up to last night?]

Belle gave me a dull expression. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to go into sordid detail, Gunquake. I can’t be agony aunt for all of you.”

//Dubs: We were attacked by someone spying on us.

Her bright green eyes went up to her messages before back to me, her brow now furrowing. “Everyone okay?”

[Indeed. Shaken, at worst. I was just at the League to make a formal complaint.]

She nodded, and her scowl remained. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

[I did have a few questions about your magic.]

“Oh? Please go ahead.”

[In what way does your magic visually appear? And what spells do you have?]

Belle gave me a wry grin. “Although I may look like my spells would have a radiant or arcane appearance, they are usually accompanied by small growths of plant life and flowers. Not quite as overt as a druid, though.”

My eye twinged at that last part, but I didn’t think much of it.

“Plus, my supportive spells are more for preventative measure rather than healing. I can only cast Minor Regeneration on the healing side. I have Wards that protect either against certain elements or debilitating conditions, as well as shielding for both individuals as well as a dome. That one is my signature move.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she grinned at this last part.

The spark of passion for her work.

[Perfect. That’s exactly what I wanted to know.]

“Should I be worried?” Any ire over my mistaken assumption she was under the effect of my charming personality had washed away.

[Constantly. If I make it to be a hero and I have Roxy’s ear, the team is going to be put to the grindstone.]

We stopped at a corner to allow a couple of vehicles to pass by. Children in the back seat of the second car waved at Belle and she smiled and returned the gesture.

“I’m looking forward to it. The actual hero work I get is rather droll, and I don’t mind the League knowing I think that. Only being able to shield others has some niche uses outside of team missions… and they have been few and far between.”

[You want to come out and have a training session soon? I’d like to see how hard Roxy can hit me while you protect me.]

She pulled a face as we crossed the road. “You’re an odd duck, Dubs. Sounds good, though. Let me check my diary later and get back to you? I have a lot going on with the Church and getting some fundraising set up.”

[Of course. I’m available anytime, really. Until the League finds me a new mission.]

“I saw Roy on the television today. Did…” she trailed off, knowing that there could be any number of ears listening in on us right now.

[What can I say? I appear to have been a positive influence on him.]

Belle narrowed her eyes slightly and nodded, picking up what I truly meant. “Well, I shouldn’t get too comfortable being disconnected from Him, but thanks for the breather, Dubs.”

[Anytime, Belle. Have a good day.]

With a nod and a smile, she turned to start walking back. I watched her leave for a moment before bringing up the group chat I had with home base.

//Dubs: Meeting over.

//Dubs: They are sending protection, and I have permission to be somewhat naughty.

//Clara: Best news I’ve heard all day.

//Roxy: I’m glad you’re okay! What are they sending?

//Dubs: No idea. Things going okay for you both?

//Clara: I’ve got something special to thank you for last night~

//Roxy: I swear, gremlin…

//Roxy: Been training away the anxiety.

//Roxy: Might have overdone it, but I’m still going… ha ha.

//Roxy: Bring me some ice cream back home? :(

//Dubs: Consider it done.

I closed down the chat as Clara said something about what she wanted, and the super then started bickering with her. I ignored it all, as I took in my surroundings properly.

Where the fuck was I meant to get ice cream?

On the right side, across the street, the buildings looked like some kind of factories or workshops. To my left were storage sheds, the size of a suburban garage each. One row along the sidewalk level, and occasionally a set of metal stairs that went up to a second level of more of the same. Despite being so close to the city center, many were disheveled or looked like they could do with a good cleaning.

A quick look at my map told me I could follow this road down for a way and there would be a convenience store. How… handy. I’d need to circle back around to get my vehicle, but I wouldn’t be getting home without it, anyway. Perhaps I’d savor my brief win today and enjoy being out and about in the city.

My eyes went over to the storage units as I passed. Ninety-eight was written on the closest, followed by ninety-five. This didn’t make too much sense as they should either be sequential, or alternating with the ones up the top.

I furrowed my brow as I walked, trying to watch as the numbers skipped a unit every three or four doors. I ignored the graffitied images of cats, genitals, and gang signs… until I saw one that had me stop in place.

This one had no number on it at all, just something spray painted with deep green.

A large letter W.