John glowered down at Ryan who had been restrained. Bound to what John assumed was some kind of medical stretcher. A stretcher that had creepy mechanical spider arms all along the sides.

“So the Geneva convention is out the window?” John asked hopefully. Ryan’s eyes widened and flicked from John to the Bio-Bob standing on the other side of his gurney.

“What do you take me for? Some inhuman machine? Waterboarding was considered perfectly acceptable before the system. I mean, I am tempted to get the Dragon to turn his pecker into a small and very angry ferret but there are lots of avenues we can explore before it gets that far.”

“We’ll need to move him soon. Evie won’t take long to get back from the Wall and then this pecker, ferret-ified or not will be toast.” Ryan’s eyes were moving between the men so quickly his pupils had become a blur.

“A small army of Sam’s are coming this way as well. It’s only a matter of time before she starts blasting my bots out of the way. Have you seen what she can do with her hard light illusions? I suspect she’ll shave this bloke’s flesh off a millimetre at a time starting at the feet,” Bob said sadly.

“Looks like he wants to talk?” said John as he pulled the gag from Ryan's mouth.

“For fucks sake don’t give me to the Dragon! Or Evie! I demand a trial!”

“Well tell us what we want to know, mate. We might even be able to arrange a trial. You know I can teleport bit’s of atoms now? No idea how to use the bloody power other than triggering what amounts to a nuclear explosion but if I start stripping protons from bits of you I’m pretty sure you’ll have cancer fairly quickly, assuming you don’t explode of course. Since the system it hasn’t been an issue but together we could help cancer make a comeback?”

“I don’t know anything though!”

“Bob, does lying warrant some kind of testicular teleportation? I mean it wouldn’t kill him right? And the Constitution healing effect would let him recover in a few minutes if he only lost such a modest part of his anatomy. They wouldn’t grow back but hey ho.”

“I’ve got Pete on the line. He’s happy to pop over and regrow anything we remove.”

“Jesus Christ you evil bastards! I can’t tell you what I don’t know! I was approached after I left the fucking gulag you sent me to. Some guy called Richard Goodman. He set me up with the Essence and manipulated my information on Identify.”

“What level was he? What was his ability? You must know that much,” asked Bob.

“It all changed! His bloody name changed as well! I Identified him four times and everything was different every time! Just don’t send me to the Dragon!”

“I’ve gotten a bit of a bad reputation, it seems.”

"Hi Pete. How’s tricks in Wales?” asked John casually as Ryan’s face somehow became paler than it had when testicular teleportation was discussed.

“Dull. The lack of new specimens has resulted in stagnation. My chimaeras have progressed as far as possible for the time being. A pecker into a ferret? That might be an interesting experiment.” A gargoyle body walked into the clinically sterile room John and Bob were using for a primary interrogation.

“Hiding away for years and only sending out monsters tends to leave people to draw their own conclusions. Good to see you again kid.”

“And you John. It’s been a while.” The face in the chitinous cowl wasn’t an eight year old boy anymore. He now looked to be in his early twenties and John suspected Pete had a thing about appearing his real age. He was pushing into his mid thirties, chronologically, but the face looked twenty one tops. His voice had dropped an octave but still had the faint Welsh accent John remembered. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Pete asked Ryan harshly.

“Struck a blow against the tyranny you assholes enforce!” snarled Ryan desperately. “You lot force us to either join your fucking club, stop levelling or die. Even if we join we’re treated as second class members until you decide we’re worthy of the augmentations. You stole my childhood!”

“Is that how you see it?” asked Pete. The gargoyle tilted its head and two tentacles curled up over his right shoulder. One opened out into something that reminded John of birthing forceps while the other extended a narrow blade. The forceps moved down until they snapped forward and held open one of Ryan’s eyes. “Perhaps I agree with you somewhat. I find the Accords quite restrictive as well. You know it was the factions that wanted them in the first place? Yet now they chafe under the rules they imposed on us all. Fascinating.” Pete had leant down and the only human part of his body, his face, was examining Ryan up close. Ryan spat and Pete blinked before wiping it away with yet another tentacle.

“Reckon you can get the truth?” asked Bob quietly. The machine collective was disturbed by the clinical dispassion in Pete’s voice and behaviour. It was probably just an act but the Dragon had drifted farther and farther away from his humanity over the years.

“Send him to the lair. I’ll have a rifle through his head but I don’t think we’ll get much more. He wasn’t lying as far as I could tell.”

“Ryan… I’m sorry lad. I don’t like the Accords either but it’s what we have. Sometimes causing chaos results in the change you wanted but usually it makes things worse and people end up dead. You killed a bunch of my friends, as well as a bunch of people I tolerated, today. There won’t be a trial. I’ll see you soon,” said John grimly before blipping the bound man to Pete’s lair under Snowdon.

“You’re really leaning into the whole mad dragon bit aren’t you?” asked Bob.

“Too much? He clearly believed I was like that so it made sense to play to his assumptions. I’ve got him. He’s being taken to my main body now. I’ll need half an hour or so. I assume you want the kill?”

“Bob, who did we lose at the house?” asked John quietly.

“Anna, Tom, Gemma, shit we lost half of the bureau heads from the Department as well. Wayfaire was basically decapitated in terms of leadership. Two representatives from the Reich, a dozen ranking Signatory casters including Inferno and Gallant. Fuck, the list goes on. The bloody head of the Court, the boy Armand’s dad, is toast. He wasn’t strong enough to control the heat but he probably saved a lot of people who were deeper inside the structure.”

“Yes Pete. I am taking the kill.” John’s voice was like ice.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“That’s going to stir up the wasp nest. Who was it from the Reich?” asked Pete.

“The barons of Bad Hersfeld and Sulingen, plus their entourage,” said Bob. “Two of the moderates. Now the Electors need to meet and bloody vote on replacements before the Reich can take a dump! The Court is already demanding explanations from me. ‘How is this possible?’, ‘Why should we trust you when you can’t protect your own?’ etc etc. Not even a ‘thoughts and bloody prayers’ comment just straight into the bitching.”

“They did lose their premier. I’d be pissed too if someone off-ed Dad or Claire. Will the peace hold?” wondered Pete.

“It better had do,” said John darkly. “Anyone taking advantage of the situation is going to find their portals all suddenly closed. What about the east? Is the Khan aware?”

“Nothing official from him yet but some prick was live streaming the gathering from the edge of the Moors. It went out live and everyone in Treetown and most of Wayfaire saw the light show. The Khan will be fine, as long as it doesn’t affect the Wall. Inferno was due to cover for Evie next week but-” Bob was cut off.

“I’ll cover for Evie next week. Pete, how about the anti wasp abomination you were cooking up? If we could score a big win it would help calm things down.”

“I promised Claire I wouldn’t make anymore bioweapons, John. You know how she feels about ecological damage.”

“Oh I know. She’s sent me several strongly worded Bmails about dropping that much salt water in the middle of the jungle.”

John took a breath and began pacing back and forth across the white tiled floor. “What about the Sigs? Mindscar will want to use this for her own aims. Any others we should be aware of?”

“Get me a cigar, will you John?” A cigar appeared in Bob’s hand which he lit with a thumbs up. He blew out a cloud of smoke before continuing. “Mindscar and Belisarius have demanded a council meeting for later today. Starfall, Breaker and Owain have insisted it’s deferred until we can get a sense of the damage. I’m excavating the Topping now but everyone who was more than fifteen metres into the rock seems to be fine. Some of the other council members are offering assistance but I’ve politely declined.”

“Any troop movements?” asked Pete.

“The Raj has pulled back from the Wall which is going to cause problems until John can get there. South America is always fighting for its life and none of their factions give a shit about anything except the ants, all three Lines there are fine, no changes. The Saharan Line… The Imperium is pulling troops. The Coptic Brotherhood are holding the line west of the Nile at the moment and those guys are battle junkies so the Asia/Africa bridge will hold. I’m seeing a lot of movements from the usual suspects but something is strange. The bastards know we have to hold the Lines but there are openings appearing on the Wall and the Saharan Line. The yanks are doing ok, the continental line in the east is unchanged but the west Line is being stripped of troops. None of the monsters out of New York are going to get loose in the interior of the continent.”

“A new status quo…” muttered Pete. “ They know we won’t let the monsters run loose but Signatories are already stretched thin. What’s the point? This is going to halt any advances and we’ll have to deploy mine and Bob’s reserves to fill the gaps. Reserves we were building for a push along the El Roto Line against the ants.”

“Are they just taking advantage? This is a pretty coordinated response,” wondered John as he stared at the visuals Bob was feeding his implant showing the movements.

“It’s the usual suspects doing what they wanted to do anyway. I doubt there’s something deeper at play here. When a bunch of rats eat a pie there doesn't need to be a conspiracy. It’s just going to make our lives difficult for a while until they start finding level fifty wasps barrelling towards their major settlements. Then they’ll reassess like they always do,” Bob grumbled.

“It’s going to be messy. I’ve got some new critters and the Shelly’s are busy spawning. The nagas should be able to deal with the ants at a ten to one ratio,” said Pete.

“Ten ants per naga is too low. We’ll be looking at hundreds of them for every one of us. Anything you can do to boost that?” asked John.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. We’ll have force multipliers in play. The ants won’t have caster support. With Signatory support I think they’ll do ok. It’s not so easy to enhance them now. I’m not getting any new samples so no new templates to incorporate,” Pete sounded frustrated. “I’ve been working on modifying what I’ve got but I lose a lot of system assistance when I’m manually tinkering with stuff and it takes forever to get a viable template.”

“So the pet monsters are about as good as we can get. What about the Beastfolk?” John wondered. “Can’t we free up some capacity for Sylvia to take on more nexus beasts?”

“She’d have to release or kill some of her current compliment,” snapped Bob in frustration.

“That’s a no then. Sylvia still thinks we should learn to live with the wasps and the ants.” John sighed. “So what else have we got?”

“Um, well don’t tell the sister I said this but… we have the more, ah, extreme powers. Starfall has his comets, Vic has the CME’s, Inferno has his volcanism and you can open a portal to the sun or space,” offered Pete.

“Inferno’s dead. We haven’t used those powers for good reason, lad. We want to take back the earth, not sterilise any bits we don't control.” This was an old argument between the two tinkers.

“The ecological damage would be short term.” Pete argued confidently. “Besides, I’ve got samples of pretty much everything and we can replace any species we want to keep! Look I’ve got some definitely-not-bioweapons ready to go that would wipe out the wasps and the ants in a couple of months! How much easier would it be dealing with the Khan and the fucking Legates if we didn’t need them on the Lines?”

“You can’t do plants!” snapped Bob. John felt like he was at a tennis match, his head bouncing back and forth between his friends, waiting for a fault by one or the other to spare his neck muscles.

“We got the vault from Svalbard! We’ve got more fucking seeds than we know what to do with! The Agrarians are looking at selective breeding programs and hybridising with monstrous plants that even make me blush!”

“You’re talking about turning a fifth of the surface of the Earth into a wasteland, lad. Maybe not for long!” Bob held up his hands to forestall another outburst from the gargoyle. “But for long enough, probably for decades, let’s be honest. There’s an economic factor as well.”

“Ah now we get to the rub of it! The mercantilist mecha doesn’t want to lose a revenue stream!” snapped Pete.

“Boy, it’s not me that will have a problem with it. As you damn well know. As much as they piss and moan about the obligation to man the Lines in exchange for Signatory protection from each other, they make bank from their troops getting kills at the frontlines. Unless they’re Signatory calibre fighters all that Essence goes back into their economies. And a chunk to BME, for sure, but they’ll only care about their own bottom line, kid.”

The gargoyle sagged and nodded reluctantly. “Alright old man. I still think we need to keep it as an option. We lost a bunch of the better casters at the Topping today. We’ll be stretched thin whatever happens. Should we drop the standards?”

“No. The bio enhancement and cybernetics cannot get out into the wild. We can take another look at recent applicants but the standards can’t change,” said John firmly.

“Fair enough. Ryan wasn’t bullshitting. I’ve rewired his brain so he can’t lie and he told the truth as he experienced it. Or thinks he experienced it. Could have been a psyker?” said Pete.

“Shit. No way was it a psyker. We’ve tested my implant against Mindscar. If that bitch can’t get into my head no one can. His Identify info changed after he was collared. Cutting him off from the system undid whatever had been done to him, it’s some kind of system fuckery,” said John.

“This changes everything, John. Identify being fool proof is a lynchpin of the portal network. Without that… anyone could go from Tokyo to LA in a second and bypass all the checks. The Minders are still out there, one of those crazy psykers wandering all over the world screwing with everyone’s minds… Shit we need to close it down,” said Bob worriedly. His cigar shortened considerably as he took an inhumanly long pull of smoke.

“That will destroy the Accords, Bob. If I take the portals away the world will fall apart, economically and militarily. No reinforcements at the Lines, no trade, it would destroy us!”

“Maybe that’s what this ‘Goodman’ wants? To push us into a rash decision? We’ve got one assassin who was changed to not show right to an Identify and was much higher level than he should have been. It’s hardly an army,” said Pete.

“He was level forty one, Pete. That’s a shitload of Essence. Where did he get it from?” asked Bob.

“This Goodman character gave it to him. He had to start from level one when he rerolled his ability. It wasn’t stated but my feeling was if Ryan had gotten super-gardener or whatever his contact would have killed him. The kid was a kettle of hate that had been boiling away for years and got lucky.”