"So, that's the long and short of it. I'm heading east, and would like to invite you along. Especially if you have any good means of dealing with a telekinetic short of 'bombing them from orbit'."

The Engineer's cold, cybernetic eyes studied Eyeball for a moment. The facade he maintained around the other scientists at Eyetech had fallen away, and he became completely motionless while listening; the breathing, the shifting, twitching all coming to a halt, the processing power used to maintain them diverted to communications; as he used a secure relay to pass information briefly to one of his larger CPUs in the ocean nearby.

"I am willing to provide assistance in this manner, given I am allowed to resume operations here afterwards. The intelligence I have gathered here on La Famiglia has proven invaluable. A Controller to turn a more durable metahuman into a Pale One already exists, and I will fabricate one immediately, though it requires an entry wound. Applying it to this 'Roland White' will be up to you. Dealing with a telekinetic is a relative issue. Telekinesis is a manipulation of electromagnetic force. It cannot be used on a subject inside a faraday cage, and it can be mitigated by intense magnetic fields, however, capable telekinetics are able to use environmental objects to overcome this sort of obstacle."

He stepped over to a nearby computer; holding his hand over the CPU, temporarily forming a wireless connection. After a few moments, a display showed a variant Controller; bigger, heavier duty than the original, and enormous compared to the 40mm shell versions Eyeball had added to his arsenal. Almost immediately, the Fabricator in the room gave off a soft whir as it began production.

"I must warn you that while this one, individual unit will assist you, none of my others will do so for land operations. While you have proven an asset to the cause, I will not sacrifice my current anonymity to aid you."

Eyeball nodded. "Didn't think you would. Why specify land operations, though? Wouldn't naval operations expose you just as well?"

"I am fully capable of concealing any naval operations by operating at depths organics cannot survive, even in a submarine, and have little ability to observe. I can release chemicals, utilize magnetic and cavitation effects to sink any vessel operated by organics. I am currently considering how best to utilize this; so far I have utilized this capability to quietly remove three of the targets on my list, and will continue to do so; oligarchs have a significant affinity for oversized yachts, and simply waiting until they arrive at their vessel and then sinking it has contributed significantly so far."

"Hmm. Maybe pick a country, or corporation, that is causing the most damage; or whichever would have the most psychological impact. Get equipment in place, prepare... then sink all of their boats at once. Make a big announcement, that you're the lord of the sea or something.. I think the real Poseiden is dead, never heard of him doing anything when the rest of the greeks became active. Everybody will think you're a new Titan, rather than just a machine re-emerging. Make up some excuse for being angry at country X, and go to town."

The Engineer turned away from the computer; though plans continued to obviously shift and change on the screen. The machine was multitasking, loading additional designs to the fabricator as it considered his proposal. "This proposal is easily accomplished, however, only partially works towards goals. While environmental damage is, of course, a concern, it is secondary to the primary objective of ensuring a society wherein the workers control both production and society as a whole as opposed to our current oligarchs and megacorporations."

Eyeball frowned, looking off into space as he thought. "If the goal is to punish megacorporations and oligarchs, but preserve companies owned by their workers, your hypothetical Titan needs to be someone who hates mega-corporations but can only operate in the ocean. Honestly, I can't think of any good ways to get to worker control from where we are quickly. Just sinking everything owned by the oligarchs would kill quite a few people, not just on the boats, but through famine, probably start up some wars."

"Precisely. Hence my continued approach of singling out and targeting the oligarchs themselves wherever possible. If being one is likely to leave you dead, it reduces the desirability of the position. The only members of the wealthiest individuals alive now who were at the beginning are those who are actively working towards my goals... and a single recluse who I am still actively seeking."

***

Roland White had been having a fun week. However much he might hate this Eyeball character and all the criminals he worked with, La Famiglia was certainly a great place to spend a vacation. Especially for a man who was reasonably sure he would be dead in a few months; this island had tons of heavy-hitters on it, and many of them would be extremely pissed at the deaths of their leadership.

Every drug was legal, prostitution was legal, as far as the island was concerned, unless you were a kid, you could do just about anything. He'd run through dozens of call-girls, tried enough of every drug he could think of to overcome his superhuman metabolism; fortunately, there were more drugs he hadn't been able to think of, and he'd be able to start burning through those with a bit of help from the local dealers.

So far, mushrooms were his favorite. He wanted to try them out sometime when he could just fly around in the middle of nowhere, crash through some trees, hills, just have a really weird time of it. They made everything so fun! But even here in a hotel, where he was a bit restrained, they were awesome.

The only issue was that he wasn't so sure he wanted to kill these guys anymore. Eyeball had let him live, right? Sure, humiliated and all that, and it had hurt like being beaten with a sledgehammer, but he was alive. And he'd tried to kill the guy! That was more than fair. Sure, this Wayson guy would be mad as hell. He'd given Roland a fair amount of cash to set up this whole 'Black Knight' armor. But maybe it wasn't too late to change his mind. Hell, he could go apologize right now.

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He opened the hotel room door, stumbling a bit and almost smacking into the wall on the opposite side; wearing a red t-shirt and a pair of boxers, he didn't actually look too of place heading down the hotel hallway; and the wide-open door seemed just as ridiculous, especially considering the call-girl currently sleeping inside. When he reached the lobby and accidentally crushed the counter with one hand, he backed away a step to avoid accidentally damaging it further.

"Oh, hey! Could you tell the man in charge that I wanna talk to him? I need to talk to Nicky. Or Eyeball. Or something. I have to apologize."

At least, that's what Roland thought he was saying. In reality, he was drooling, staring at an ad for the Arena, and muttering gibberish as he spoke to thin air and a security agent for the hotel stared at him; intensely afraid of handling a drugged-up metahuman, he immediately called for the Enforcers.

***

When Eyeball reached the hotel, stepping into the lobby to see two guards keeping their distance from an extremely happy, apparently high, Black Knight, he was carrying a box in one hand, and had a rifle more than powerful enough to put the meta down strapped to his back. The guards looked relieved to see him, and he nodded at them both as he approached.

This was ridiculous. He was supposed to be fighting this idiot to the death, putting on a bit spectacle of his execution for breaking the rules. And after the controller idea had come up, he'd been considering an ambush; giving the man an injury that the wires could make their way through with his rifle, slapping the controller on, and then stalling the man long enough for the controller to take over.

According to what he'd learned en route, the meta had been buying drugs, hiring prostitutes, and apparently planned on burning through a ridiculous amount of money during his time in the arena; more than he could actually earn by winning the tournament, in fact, at this rate; apparently spending a few hundred grand so far. Ten million dollars was quite a bit, but when it came to hiring high-class prostitutes, living in a luxury suite, and using enough cocaine to impact someone with a superhuman biology, it didn't get that far. Honestly, the latter was likely the bigger issue; apparently he took anywhere from ten times to a hundred times as much of any given chemical substance to actually work, and they all wore off much more quickly.

He sighed, shaking his head. At this point he could probably just ask the idiot to open his mouth, ram the controller in, and it would be over; he'd have a puppet to send against the Empress. It would be interesting to see if a Pale One would be able to use its body's ability to fly.

Arriving at the arena display, he slapped his hand against it, to draw Roland's attention. "Hey. Black Knight. You and I need to have a chat."

The man turned to face Eyeball, leaning against the wall with one hand. Eyeball's helmet had to magnify the whispered mumble of Roland's response.

"Why are you yelling, man? Oh. Eyeball. I'm sorry, I wanted to apologize to you. And thank you for not killing me. I really like it here, this place is awesome, and I'm glad it got made. I don't want to hurt anybody. Well, I like hurting people. But I can do it in the arena now." His face looked... dopey. Whatever he was on, he was dramatically different from the conversations they'd had after taking him out before Famiglia had been founded.

For a moment, Eyeball hesitated. The man had tried to kill him. And probably planned on making another attempt, hence his presence here. But right now? He was apologizing. And so doped up on some substance he'd clearly had no experience with that he was virtually helpless. It would be like stepping on a kitten. Except... a kitten wouldn't wake up in the morning and possibly decide to kill you. He held up the box; one end was a relatively flat armored plate with sensors on it. The other side a mass of tendrils wound up amongst themselves.

"Could you do me a favor? Just open up and say Ahhh."

The meta let out more of a confused, questioning grunt.... but his mouth was still open. And when Eyeball hit the switch on the Controller; the mass of tendrils pressed through Roland's mouth, jabbing through the soft inner tissues, working their way into the brain, into the spine; and the man collapsed to the ground, letting out a muffled scream of pain as the machine securely set itself in place, jammed into the man's open mouth like a gag.

There was a coughing sound coming from nearby. A man wearing what seemed to be dark armor with traces of dried blood smeared across the helmet... ahh. The Executioner. Black Knight's companion in the arena. Eyeball turned to face him, hand settled over one of his handguns. The man had been competent, dangerous; clearly skilled, but someone who, like Eyeball, relied on guns for most of his offensive punch; and the dull, matte finish of his armor would be much better for stealthy operations than Eyeball's own trademark shiny chrome helmet.

The Executioner raised his hands, keeping them away from his own weapons. "I was just going to get him back to his room. No need for any of that." Harrick glanced at the Controller. It looked like it was turning Roland into a Pale One. He had an EMP grenade on him for this sort of situation... but didn't like his odds. If he were going to fight Eyeball he wanted a prepared trap, to set the stage first. "If you have some sort of beef with him, thats fine; I just wanted to win the tournament."

Eyeball tilted his head, looking at him. Something about the man seemed off. He was calm, professional, and his fights in the arena made him seem competent enough. He was tempted to offer to hire the man as an Enforcer, since his tournament season had just been cut short after only one match. But... it just didn't feel right. "Sorry for ruining your chances. A few teams are going to be breaking up early this season for some family issues. I'll put in a word with management; only one fight's gone down already, so you may be able to hook up with the rest of those left behind, form a new team."

Eyeball's own team-mates could use a new ally. Maybe this Executioner could work with them. While he did like the absurd trio 'Viper' had been working with, they weren't the sort he'd want at his back for a mission that might put his fiance and unborn children at risk. While it still felt a bit off to let this unknown head out with them, it didn't feel as bad as offering him a job.

As Eyeball looked over the control HUD that appeared on his helmet, the same display that normally showed when he had drones deployed to see the area coming online, Roland slowly rose to his feet. Pale Ones weren't that uncommon a sight on La Famiglia; but they were usually uncontrolled, and simply attacked anything that wasn't another Pale One.

As he gave a few voice commands, the drone commanding Roland's body turned to follow him.. and Harrick stared at his temporary companion being forced to walk out alongside one of the men he'd claimed to hate enough to die for the chance to take him down.

Harrick had seen reports of the Pale Ones, and what the controllers did to their victims. He didn't like Roland too much even before the idiot had started wasting Wayson's money on whores and drugs, but condemning him to that fate, to be a tormented bystander watching his own body forced to act? He lowered his hand to the EMP grenade, considering using it before it was too late. Maybe he and Roland would both be taken out, but at least it would give the man a chance to escape.

He could see Eyeball's hand lowering towards his handgun, as his own rested on the pin of the grenade... and shook his head, turning away. No. This wasn't a fight he could win. He needed a new plan. Maybe whatever emergency was dragging him out of town would serve.