Brock stood next to KB (Administrative)'s drone and the still-unconscious prisoner, looking around as what he assumed were emergency services descended on the scene. A squad of witches in pointed white and red floppy hats were first in, broomsticks swirling up dust as they came through the massive hole in the ceiling and circled the wreckage in search of any trapped survivors, strobing lights flashing from the tips of their airborne conveyances. Following them was what looked like a large swarm of metal bees, a small cloud of which quickly dispersed to dangerously leaning sections of walls and precarious segments of roof, each emitting a low thrum that seemed to stabilize the broken segments. The larger cloud traced a circuit around the perimeter of the room, strange lights flickering on and off. More sirens could be heard outside, along with indistinct shouting that sounded calm and orderly despite the volume.

"Uhhh, what's going on?" Brock asked quietly, his heart starting to slow from its earlier rapid thumping. The elation of being invited to join the Fancy Fleeces was receding beneath the immediate aftermath of destruction.

"Fast response Sekkie rescue squad," KB (Administrative) replied, cannon shifting towards where the witches had descended around a pile of debris from the floor above. They jumped off their brooms in a hasty run, then formed a small circle and started chanting. A large slab of concrete floated off the top of the pile, then over to the side, revealing an opaque orange bubble with multiple dark cracks lining its surface. "The third floor explosion protective measures triggered, but they're not perfect. Meatbags like yourself are distressingly vulnerable to impacts and concussive blasts."

"Everything's such a mess," Brock said, a feeling of dazed incomprehension starting to sneak over his thoughts as the adrenaline ebbed out of his system. "The whole building's ruined."

"A minor inconvenience," KB (Administrative) disagreed. "The reconstructor swarm is stabilizing the structural elements, and citizens with appropriate skills and training are no doubt already lining up to help rebuild."

Sure enough, a wide variety of figures, some humanoid, others not, were flying, floating, walking, crawling, slithering, running, and in one case, teleporting various body parts in sequence through the gaps in the walls, roof, and floor, then quickly setting to the task of restoring the ruined detritus to its formerly pristine state via magic, mechanics, muscle, and in one case, individually teleporting various body parts somehow stuck to broken bits of the building back to their original places.

Brock stared incredulously. The closest frame of reference he could think of was if a swarm of ants had suddenly erupted into the middle of a car crash and were rapidly rebuilding the vehicles in a rewinding of time. He squinted at the far corner of the room, where two figures, one an ambulatory tree, the other a small goblin in spiked leather, had just finished restoring part of the turf and appeared to be arguing with each other over who would get to do the next section.

"Are they... racing each other?"

"The more cleaning one contributes, the more credits one earns," KB (Administrative)'s drone responded, tipping side to side in an aerial version of a shrug. "The system will sort it out."

"...huh."

A large vehicle shaped like a massive robot cat, crouched and ready to pounce, descended through the slowly healing ceiling, pulsating blue rings of energy glowing in the pads of its feet. It settled gently to the ground next to Brock and KB (Administrative)'s drone, and a hatch in its side swung down. With a start, Brock realized he recognized it from his very first day in the city, except this one was bright yellow instead of bright red.

"This is our ride, meatbag."

A crackling cage of energy lifted their snoring captive off the ground and KB (Administrative)'s drone floated him over and through the hatch, Brock following behind automatically. It sealed shut behind them with a hiss, and the drone maneuvered the limp body into a seated position on one of the benches set against the wall, restraining his hands with a short length of silvery material that kept him from falling too far forward. KB (Administrative) then hovered past Brock to the cockpit door and disappeared inside.

Brock stared at the body slumped on the bench, remembering the panic and confusion of his own waking, then shook his head and turned to join KB (Administrative).

It's not the same. I didn't try to hurt anyone. This guy deserves it. He needs to be contained, limited.

I think.

Brock settled into one of the two cockpit seats with a heavy sigh, restraints automatically snugging up around him. A lifting sensation pressed him down against the seat, and the view from the forward screen showed them rising up through the shell of the building and then emerging into open air. A cluster of flying objects that looked suspiciously like news cameras floated beyond a glowing yellow line circumscribing the building's perimeter, held back from crossing by several winged horses that lashed out with their rear hooves any time one of the boxy rectangles looked like it was threatening to push through.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Beyond that, though, the rest of the city looked the same as it always did. Crowds still packed the wide sidewalks, all manner of vehicles rolled, strode, undulated, or in the case of the ubiquitous Goondams, fell apart in the streets, and the towering buildings rose up and around it all, dwarfed by the gargantuan pale roots of the Yggdrasil climbing up above, shifting layers of air traffic doing little to conceal the slow motion violence of the advertisement cloud hovering beneath where the roots began to intertwine. Brock was finding it difficult reconciling the bustling normality surrounding them with the violence that had just so recently occurred.

"Why isn't anyone panicking?" Brock asked as they passed through the outer perimeter, the cat/lion vehicle swatting away a camera that got too close with a metallic clang. They began a quick descent to street level before more of the cameras could close in. "It all seems so... normal."

The drone blatted amusement at him.

"Why would anyone panic? We were able to bring the Sekkie under control before he could do any significant damage. Only three fatalities total, and two were digital so they can back up from previous saved states if they wish. The Explosion Enjoyment Zone has seen worse in the course of normal daily operation. That's why there are waivers."

Brock felt the knot of uncertainty and disconnectedness deep within him throb, and he sighed again.

"Never mind. I'll talk with Skeeter about it later."

The rest of the short trip back to headquarters passed quickly and in silence, eventually ending in the underground parking garage that Brock remembered from his own initial capture. KB (Administrative)'s drone untethered the middle-aged man, who was starting to stir slightly, and encased him once again in a crackling cage of energy. As they exited the vehicle, an angry voice greeted them.

"That is so unfair, KB! I've been dying for something to happen, and then something finally does when it's your turn for overwatch? You suck!"

"Try not being a pitiful meatbag that requires such things as 'sleep,' Operator Fiona," the drone replied smugly, carrying its cargo past the high-spirited goblin standing with her hands on her hips, all manner of firearms strapped to her chest and legs. Brock waved hesitantly at her as he passed, and her frown turned into a smile.

"Oh! Hey, Brock, did you have fun?"

He stumbled slightly at the odd question.

"Uhhh, well, yeah, I guess I was having a good time playing soccer until-"

"Boooooorriiiing," she interrupted him, falling into stride alongside them. "I'm talking about the fight!" She punched one fist into an open palm with a meaty smack. "I'm so jealous I missed it!"

"Uhhh, okay?" The party entered an elevator ant set into the far wall of the parking garage, which quickly scurried out and onto the roots of the Yggdrasil, ascending up through the city level into the air-transit layer. "I think I was more worried about making sure no one got hurt."

Fiona bopped him on the shoulder.

"That's good, that should always be the focus, but you can still have fun, you know what I'm saying?"

Brock stared at her, at a loss for words.

"Do not infect the meatbag with your primitive urges for physical violence, Operator Fiona. I believe Shimada-san is kept busy enough with one 'meatheaded adrenaline junkie.' His words, not mine."

"Eat me, KB."

"That is disgustingly biological. No."

Their comfortable squabbling enveloped Brock like a warm blanket as he leaned his forehead against the elevator glass, relishing the cool chill on his bare skin. In the crackling cage next to him, the confined middle-aged man groaned.

"Whu... what happened... where am I..."

Brock looked down at him, watching his eyes shift from bleary unconsciousness to panicked awareness to hard-edged anger, spite pooling in every breath. Before he could speak again, Brock waved at him tiredly.

"Hey. Not that I think you'll listen, but it'll be a lot easier if you're not a dick. Just a heads up. We're all people too."

"Unhand me, you cretins!" the man bellowed, straining futilely at the bonds of energy keeping him aloft and immobile. His face turned red as he struggled to produce a single twitch. "You can't do this to-"

The blue cords buzzed sharply, causing the man's eyes to bulge, and then he passed out again, tongue lolling at the side of his mouth. Fiona whistled in admiration.

"Daaaang, KB, you're fired up about this one. Going straight to the neural overload? Wheeeeew."

"The Sekkie destroyed my main shell," KB (Administrative) replied coldly, "and now I have to replace all my stickers. He is off to a bad start."

"Well, I tried," Brock said to himself, ignoring the other two while watching the outside air shift to the wooded embrace of the Yggdrasil's inner layers. "Can't do more than that, I guess."

The elevator started slowing, but before it came to a complete halt, Fiona turned away from her conversation with KB (Administrative) and looked at Brock with a quick exclamation of surprise, like she'd just remembered something.

"Oh, hey, Brock, I forgot to tell you - Tara's on a bit of a rampage today, so, uhm, yeah. Head on a swivel and all that."

"...whut?"

The elevator ant came to a smooth halt, doors opening, and Fiona and KB (Administrative) exited rapidly, the prisoner bracketed between them, ignoring Brock's last query. He stepped towards the doorway, intending to follow them, then froze.

A dark-haired woman with an eyepatch, Captain Tara Swift, Cap, was in a business suit so sharp it seemed to cut the air around her, and her frozen expression indicated she was one step away from kicking him off the edge of the world tree.

"You," she snarled, grabbing his wrist, "are coming with me to debriefing, and on the way, you're going to explain what the hell you think you were doing with my fiancee's body last night."