I had finally, finally, obtained the sacrifice video. It was… surprisingly bloodless. Leslie Dean, the leader of the Church of the Gibborim, had brought a young initiate, Anthony Rocha, from her church to sacrifice and he never appeared to suspect anything. He drank from a goblet and got roofied, laid down in the pod, and it disappeared him in a flash of light.

The designer, maintainer, and guardian of that pod was Victor Stein. Stein was a brilliant mechanical engineer and much of his company was cutting edge. His self-driving cars were already close to human levels of proficiency - Well ahead of where we were on my home timeline. In a few years, they'd like be able to replace human drivers altogether. Or a few months, if I got my hands on the software.

Stein, like everybody, wanted our new batteries at an affordable rate, so he was the easiest of the PRIDE to get a meeting with. "Doctor Stein," I said, shaking his hand and inviting him into my home with a wave. It was an upper-middle class house, which in Los Angeles meant it cost less than a million dollars but more than a couple hundred thousand. It was unimpressive for someone of my class and station, but honestly who needed a huge house anyway? One and a half people lived there.

"Mr. Trent, call me Victor," he said as he entered. Victor Stein looked like James Marsters, who I knew better from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I swear the only thing that maintained my sanity was that Rhodey and Howard Stark both looked nothing like their movie actor equivalents.

A large painting of the construction of the Pyramids of Giza hung behind the kitchen table. My house was mostly sleek and modern, but I had commissioned a number of prominent local artists to paint the constructions of all the great wonders of human engineering. That had been done mostly in reverence to Andromeda's insistence that I put a thumbprint on the place and not continue to live, 'as monkishly as possible'. "Well, you're welcome to call me Mike as well," I said. Stein was a good deal older than I was, so it was a little weird for him to call me Mister anything. "I'm not quite done cooking, but please sit down."

"It's not normal for a CEO to invite me to lunch at his own house, but I appreciate the courtesy."

"Well, it's simple chemistry, isn't it? I could afford to hire a cook as good as I am, but it would be a huge waste of money." Also, my house was an easier place to record and display blackmail than your average four star restaurant.

"Your panels and batteries are simply phenomenal, I wish my engineers had half your talents. I'm still outdoing them in my garage."

"I wish my engineers had half your talent."

"Well, I suppose if they were as smart as we are, they wouldn't be working for us."

"Here's to the merely talented," I said with a laugh. What I did not say, because Victor Stein had a terrible temper and a vicious streak, was that if his engineers had half my talents, he'd be working for them. That might not have been entirely fair, but also he was a wife-beating scumbag, so I didn't really feel a strong urge to leap to his defense internally.

"Cheers," he said, raising his water as I moved the Massaman Curry into bowls. "You know, this is my favorite dish."

"I always I do my research," I said as he dug in and made a savoring face.

"This is amazing," he said after several minutes of silent eating, "But you said you wanted to discuss important business."

I nodded my head and walked over to a drawer, pulling out a clicker looking point device. "Victor, I know you want our batteries. I'm happy to provide them. Nemo is going to be a major force in the U.S. auto industry going forward, especially as our transition off of fossil fuels continues to take off so rapidly. This meeting isn't about that."

"What's it about then?"

"I want you to know that I'm more than able to match whatever offers your present patron is making," I said as I walked over to the painting and pointed the clicker at it.

"What patron?" He said, in a perfectly believable and serviceable tone of disbelief. "I'll have you know-"

I pressed the shrink button. The painting shrunk to the size of a postage stamp and I caught it as it started to fall down the wall. I brought it over to Stein, whose eyes were wide as saucers now, and slid it onto the table next to his curry bowl. "The alien you work for."

"I - What the hell is that? How did you do that? It's amazing."

"A synthetic particle I named the Minos Particle," I said drawing out a miniaturized laptop out of my pocket and positioning it in a comfortable position. "Our animal tests survive but they're mentally addled. We're still working on that. I also have high hopes that, through access to lower quantum distances, we'll be able to slip the bounds of time," I dropped in. Stein, it turned out, was obsessed with time travel. "I'd love to have you onboard working with me to transcend that limit." The TVA probably didn't exist if the changes I had already made hadn't gotten them on me. It'd be easy to check anyway with a test timeline. "But we can't work with the Gibborim."

"I," Stein was stumbling to find his words, "I still don't know what you're talking about about the alien, but can we-"

I pressed the clicker on the miniaturized laptop. It expanded to normal size and I opened it. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. I wanted to be civil, Victor, I truly did. But I cannot allow the alien to live - He'll destroy Los Angeles if he isn't stopped. And you've killed too many children already." And then I clicked play on the video.

"Alright, that's enough." Stein said with a sigh only a few seconds in, "You don't have to play it. We're the only people who remember them and we killed them. The first time, we had no idea what was happening. Well, except Tina and Leslie. Then they had a video. A lot like this, actually."

"Well, I promise that if you work for me, I won't make you kill any more children. I need help contacting and approaching the others who would be sympathetic. And I need you to tell me the alien's alias here on earth."

"The Yorkes and the Wilders were taken by surprise, same as me and Janet. I think Robert was too, awfully cold of his wife. Tina's not a Gib, so she's probably not as loyal as Leslie. Nobody's loyal like Leslie. And the alien name's Jonah."

And there I had it.

——

The Yorkes were basically your standard middle aged tech hippies. They listened to Weird Al unironically, they had adopted the Hernandezes' daughter Molly, and they worked for Synnergy Bioengineering (spelling correct). Dale had an affable dad beard and a kind of goofy but not unattractive face, Stacey had frizzy red hair and a very hippie-mom vibe to her clothes. Both of them wore square frame glasses and were in much better shape than you would expect from such consumate nerds. They murdered children once a year. Not trying to throw stones in my house of glass about that, it's just an important piece of information about the kind of people they were.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

According to Stein, Jonah had offered each of them money (of course) but he also offered them a leg up on the technological competition. There was a book with Gibborim tech in it. From the sounds of it, the Gibborim were further up the technological food chain than the average set of aliens in the Guardians neck of the woods. But they weren't further up the tech tree than me. Nobody was further up the tech tree than me.

Dale and Stacey were enjoying hot cider with me outside in the evening as Andromeda entertained Molly and Gert with a sleek little tabletop app I'd designed.

"I'm surprised you wanted to have us over," Stacey said.

"And I'm even more surprised Victor agreed to facilitate," Dale agreed, looking out at my garden. "You really are a bright spot recently. We got your solar panels, absolutely phenomenal."

I had been enjoying the moment. It was nice to deal with people who were just… normal and not beholden to or afraid of me. Yes, yes, they were serial killers, but at least there could be this illusion of three nice liberals sitting around a porch in the night air. A moment where I wasn't Hydra and they weren't PRIDE.

But with the mention of Victor, I knew they must be getting anxious to know why I'd asked them here. It was time to put an end to the moment and move onto my grim work, "I know about Jonah and what the PRIDE does under their basement."

Both of them stiffened. These two were not fabulous liars - But lying isn't really about lying, it's about trust. A liar can't make a man believe the truth before his own eyes and honest men can sell the biggest lies. And the Yorkes had an honest man aura going on. "I'm not sure what you're accusing us of," Dale said, faltering, "But I think it's time we leave. Stacey, go get Molly and Gert."

"You can do that if you want to, they're not in any danger. I would never threaten your daughters." I said calmly. "But I'd rather you stay and listen to my offer. I have your holiday reunion taped."

"Oh as if we don't have enough problems," Stacey said under her breath. "Gonna be a whole series soon."

"Calm down, Mrs. Yorkes," I said, "I'm here to set you free."

"By blackmailing us?"

"We're all beholden to someone. I'm offering you an upgrade - You give up on Jonah, you come over to my side. I'll make Synnergy a household name and you'll never have to murder any children ever again. Isn't that worth a few minutes of your time?"

They looked at each other and Dale sighed, "Alright," he said after a moment, "What's the deal?"

"I've already brought the Steins onboard, as you've no doubt deduced. I'm… significantly more talented than I have so far displayed publicly. Synnergy would make an excellent medium for me to spread major medical innovations and I could use your help to implement some of my knowledge."

"What's the catch?" Stacey asked

"I'd be an angel investor, like the Minoru family. I'd expect an ordinary stockholder's return and a first bid opportunity on any independent research, in case I consider it dangerous or I have a particular interest. Also I'm going to kill Jonah and I thought you might dissect his corpse, see how his powers work."

Dale let out a breath, "It sounds like a good deal. Do you have any proof you can do that?"

I fished a flash drive out of my pocket and handed it over, "Look it over and get back to me."

——

Geoffrey and Catherine Wilder were my last couple before I set things in motion. Geoffrey Wilder was a big man, with a bald head and beard, and Catherine wore professional dress and had her her slicked straight and back into a ponytail. They were both Black and had risen from a difficult life in a rundown neighborhood, not entirely legally in Geoffrey's case. With the knowledge that Tina had precipitated things, I planned to move on her, Jonah, and Leslie as decisively possible. Andromeda was sitting next to me, ready to play the bad cop.

"Word is you're quite the rising star, Mr. Trent." Catherine said, cutting into her steak. "And we're grateful for your intervention to make sure Wilder Construction is able to build on time."

"I try my best," I said with false humility. "Starting something new is hard work, and I always have a lot of respect for people who got there by themselves."

"Thank you," Geoffrey said, leaning back in his chair. "Why do I feel like there's a business offer coming up?"

"Mr. Wilder!" I said in mock defense, "It's pretty straight forward. I look at the two of you and I see real community leaders - Not people checked off by churches, mayors, or social workers, but the people with real reach down into the roots of a community. People who made a way where there was no way. And I'd like you working for me, not against me." In truth, of the PRIDE I had contacted, Catherine and Victor were the only two with what I saw as the ambition and drive necessary to be Hydra people.

"And why do you need us?"

"I don't need anybody," I said mildly. "Just like you don't need me. But what I am offering you is an upgrade - in exchange for your connections and some small measure of your energies, I want to improve your working conditions and going rate."

"The Wilders don't work for anybody but the Wilders," Catherine bristled.

"Catherine," Andromeda said, taking on the role of bad cop. "We both know that you work for Jonah, that he bought land off of Geoffrey here, that you and your husband have participated for many years in a sacrifice of young people from Leslie Dean's church in your basement. We have tapes. We're offering to… buyout your contract. We'll dispose of Jonah and you come over to us."

"And how're you going to do that without their tape getting out and sending us to prison. You think we didn't think of putting a bullet in this guy? Do you think our brains were scooped out of our skulls?"

"Mr. Wilder," I said, not allowing myself to be draw into contention about it. "I understand that Wizard is widely lauded for its computer prowess, but even if I can't hack it, by this time next evening you can expect that I will have scrubbed the file system."

"Do that," Geoffrey said, "And we'll take your damn deal."