Interlude 4.8.5 Eugene Lewis

2000, July 22: Cauldron, Ivory Coast, Africa

I walked into Cauldron's main compound with the familiarity of a man returning home. It was here that I first discovered the limits of my powers. It was here that I broke down weeping as I felt my Agent mend my broken body, both the most agonizing and satisfying moment of my life. The compound's many halls were a plain, boring white reminiscent of hospitals, but to me, this was as much my home as the penthouse flat in DC.

I quelled the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me and hardened my heart for what needed to be done.

We failed.

Again.

Years ago, Rebecca, David, Keith, and I had all but knelt before the President of the United States. We, the greatest heroes of our generation, bowed our heads and submitted to lawful authority in the name of peace. We founded the Protectorate and did our best to grow the organization into an international presence. We recruited. We trained. We inspired. All in the name of ensuring humanity's survival.

That was the big irony: Our mission wasn't to be heroes. It wasn't for justice. Or hope. Or glory. Or even the simple pleasure of saving lives.

No. Our mission was singular: the survival of humanity and the end of the Cycle.

The death of a god.

Everything else was secondary.

I was secondary.

I came to terms with that. I acknowledged that I would have to do terrible things. Already, my hands were stained red. I knew there were harsh choices and harsher truths awaiting me and my friends. I sometimes wondered how it would feel to look ourselves in the mirror when it was all said and done, if we survived at all. I wondered how history would paint me because I had no delusions that Cauldron could remain a secret forever.

I wasn't a good person. Neither was anyone in Cauldron. In the end, I was a hero in name only, a gilded statue built on a pile of bodies.

And despite it all, there were days when my resolve was shaken. I clenched my fists to keep my hands from trembling as I thought back to Rebecca's report.

Rubedo. Andy Kim.

Our fault.

I walked into the meeting room and took a seat by Keith. All but two were already in attendance. Keith, Legend, was a friendly fellow whose greatest superpower was the ability to charm strangers to his side. He wasn't the strongest of us, but he was without a doubt the only one who could wear the mantle of the leader of the Protectorate. A frown didn't suit the man.

To his other side was David, Eidolon, greatest hero in the world save Scion himself. Without his mask and suit tailored to appear flattering on his slightly overweight frame, one would never know. David looked so very plain right now. In him I saw little interest in the upcoming matters, though I didn't hold it against him.

His power was waning. We didn't know why and being Fortuna's blindspot was coming to bite him. For a man who had dedicated himself to his mantle so thoroughly, it was as good as a terminal illness. David had no family. David had no friends save Cauldron. David… David was the mask and Eidolon was the man. I pitied my friend as much as I loved him. He was a reminder of why I couldn't let the mask take over my life.

Across from us sat Kurt, Harbinger, Number Man. When Fortuna brought him into the fold, it took everything I had to not kill him then and there. The lanky man was sociopathic in the extreme. I had no idea if it was his Agent's influence, but Kurt simply did not have empathic concerns. It was all about numbers. Statistics. Probability. Everything else was secondary and I found myself wondering how far we could trust him even while grudgingly acknowledging his necessity.

The world economy wouldn't run itself. No, it was best run by a sociopathic mass murderer.

God, this world was depressing.

Next to him was Rebecca, Alexandria, chief director of the PRT. She was as beautiful as ever. Her Agent had fixed her cancer-ridden form and she hadn't aged a day since. She was flawless. No, perhaps that wasn't the right word. Meticulously calculated was a better way of putting things. Even now, carefully maintained poise and discipline assisted by her not inconsiderable thinker power oozed from every pore.

She nodded towards me and shot me and Keith an apologetic smile. She knew exactly how we felt about the Red Sands Incident. I doubted she cared truth be told. Not for the first time, I wondered what immortality must feel like. Could it be that out of all of us, she was the one most detached from the human experience?

Precisely the moment my ass touched the seat, Doctor Eva and Fortuna stepped through a Doormaker portal.

"We'll begin with the Red Sands Incident," the doctor began.

"Yes, let's talk about that," Keith said with a frown. "Doctor, with respect, what the hell? Since when do we arrange for the kidnapping of children? How does that help us?"

"We gained immense goodwill on a national level as both Director Costa-Brown and Alexandria. Rest assured, the competence of the national PRT is not under question."

"That's not the point! When did we decide kidnaping a minor was an acceptable way to boost our image?"

"He's right," I said, getting angry myself. "We formed the Wards program to make sure things like this wouldn't happen. What's the point of being in charge if we do exactly what we set out to prevent?"

"Director Costa-Brown's approval rating rose by thirteen percent from this event alone. The Founders are similarly seen in a favorable light as decisive decision-makers," Kurt drawled. He'd never been particularly interested in the human experience, a "Number Man" through and through. "We've gained more than PR. By all measures, we benefited a great deal."

"All at the cost of our morals," Keith growled. Sparks of azure energy danced along his costume. It was rare to see my jovial friend so upset. "What exactly did we get that was so valuable? Was this worth it?"

"The Red Sands Standard has set a heavy precedent in favor of trigger-leniency. It has also verified conclusively that second triggers are possible and that second triggers should be treated with the same approach as firsts. We were also able to demonstrate our commitment to preserving the unwritten rules.

Kurt shuffled the papers before him, no doubt ready for the question. "Coupled with the positive PR from this event, I approximate a twenty-two percent rise in new parahumans joining the Protectorate as a result of a more favorable initial impression of the government over the next four years. This will result in a six percent drop in new villains across the country, which translates to a one-point-nine percent drop in violent crime over the same period.

"I realize that the numbers don't sound like much, but I would like to point out that a single percentage point is massive when taken on a national scale. An event with such a large positive impact on the nation's law enforcement is exceedingly rare, especially one in which the person of interest was completely unharmed.

"Further, the majority of parahumans die or retire within six months of their trigger events as you well know. This event created a sort of buffer zone. New triggers are now fourteen percent more likely to either join the Protectorate or another local power, whether out of moral purpose or fear of something similar happening to them. This encourages them to fully discover their powers, raising the chance that useful parahumans will remain alive by three-point-nine percent. We will have thousands more bodies by the final battle."

"That's…"

I glanced at Fortuna. She was of course already turned to meet my gaze. A subtle nod.

Planned then. Statistics prepared to placate Keith and me. Of fucking course.

"That doesn't change the trauma done to one little boy," I said firmly. I tried to appeal to their pragmatism. "Are we ready to throw away children for the sake of having more cannon fodder? Practically all of them will be nothing more than distractions, if that. Didn't we agree that Rubedo was too useful to waste his potential like this?"

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"We don't know that, so yes," Rebecca said matter-of-factly. "Rubedo himself is immensely valuable, but he was never in any true danger. Furthermore, his psych profile concludes definitively that he has the mind of an adult. His trigger, for whatever reason, has forced him to mature at an unprecedented rate, something I was able to verify in my brief conversation with him."

"Correct. The Path is more efficient if we treat him like a small adult rather than a boy," Fortuna confirmed.

"I don't like it," I said. "It still feels like we're slipping down a slope we've been trying to avoid."

"You don't have to like it, but I ask that you understand. My actions were for the greater good."

'And maybe that's the problem,' I thought. We were so focused on what needed to be done, I sometimes wondered if we were giving up something irreplaceable along her vaunted Path. I hated that I could see their point.

The meeting had just begun and I already wanted it to be over. "So what now? It's been a week since his second trigger. What do we know about it?"

"He didn't second trigger. That was just the narrative that advanced out goals the most. I was able to monitor him for the full duration of his captivity and you know that my Path gets muddled during a trigger event."

"Then he was hiding his abilities?"

"Yes. Like I said, treat him like a little adult rather than a young boy. He had his relic pistol long before his kidnapping but did not tell the PRT so he could secure an emergency weapon for himself. I was unaware of his disintegration beam however."

"That's…" I didn't know what to think. I had to accept that an eight year old managed to dupe the Phoenix PRT. Director Lyons wasn't an idiot so she must have noticed something, if not precisely how much he was holding back. She clearly saw no need to pursue the matter however. "Why?"

Fortuna had no trouble parsing the meaning behind my one word question. "Director Lyons believed that his sudden maturity and traumatic trigger event caused him to develop a highly paranoid personality. As such, she wanted to give him time to open up to her on his own. He grew close to the other Wards in a short time so she thought this approach was likely to be effective."

"Until you decided to upend the board," I said dryly.

"Quite," she said unapologetically, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips.

Fucking thinkers. Even when they were on my side. Sometimes, especially because they were on my side.

"So what can he do then?" David asked exasperatedly. "Is he useful against Scion or not?"

"Very," Doctor Eva said. To this day, I still had no clue what sort of "doctor" she was, or if she was one at all. "Petricite in particular will allow us to keep parahumans in reserve. Along with his potions, even if he never grows beyond what he is capable of now, he represents an enormous force multiplier."

"Can we use Petricite in lieu of the Birdcage?" Keith asked. Life sentence without chance for parole always rubbed my friend the wrong way. No, the Cage was far worse than a life sentence. A life sentence at least included wardens and the promise of physical safety. There was none of that in the Cage where villains ran the roost. To be honest, I couldn't say I disagreed.

"Both," Rebecca answered, "It won't replace the Birdcage. Too many parahumans are unaffected by Petricite shackles and Rubedo cannot be expected to produce nothing but Petricite Elixirs to quell tinkers. There will always be those who invite a Birdcage sentence as well. However, Petricite represents a middle ground between the revolving door of normal prisons and the absolute life sentence of the Birdcage."

"How about his alchemy?" David demanded. We all knew where he was coming from. Eidolon, the strongest pillar of the Founders, was weakening. It wasn't common knowledge, and wouldn't be if Fortuna had anything to say about it, but he was. The Eden Agent was, for whatever reason, dropping off in power. Then, almost as if by miracle, a new Ward emerged who could craft powers. "Can those elixirs be made permanent?"

"Can they be used to recharge me?" He didn't say but was heard loud and clear.

"I wouldn't mind taking a look at a few vials myself," I admitted. "It's not my specialization, but who knows?"

"They cannot at this time be used to bolster your power as far as I am aware," Fortuna said, crushing his burgeoning hopes. And just like that, he lost all interest in the meeting.

"At this time?"

She nodded to me. "I am not omniscient. The Path shows me what I need to know in order to accomplish my objectives, but that does not mean I know everything that happens in the world at any given moment. This is true of tinkertech as well. I can largely model your growth because of our close working relationship, but beyond tinkertech that may be useful to kill Scion, I do not know what you will make next. I have a limited bandwidth and only so many things are worthy of my attention.

"In the case of Eidolon, his power remains a blindspot. I can model his behavior, but not the workings of his Agent. How his Agent may react to the mana generated by Rubedo is a mystery, though my models suggest that his elixirs will be ineffective at this time.

"Rubedo himself represents a unique challenge. I can see him on the Path, but at each point of interaction, his power grows. He is one of a handful of parahumans whose power seemingly increases without limit, and not simply because he has been hiding his abilities from the PRT. Because of this, I know what he can build now. I do not know what he may build for anything outside the Path's direct oversight."

"That… That makes him one of the most promising tinkers in the world."

"Quite, Hero."

"So it may be possible that Rubedo can one day repower Eidolon," the doctor summed up. "The best that we can do is to encourage his growth, which was partially what the Red Sands Incident was about."

"Fine, moving on, what's the best way to develop Rubedo as a cape then?" I really just wanted this to be over. "I won't throw him into fights again and again if that's your idea, doctor."

"That would be far too crude. We need to rebrand and relocate young Andy anyway."

I seized my chance. "I volunteer. I can give him a safe environment and still have him grow as a tinker. Combat isn't the only drive for growth."

"Acceptable. He has much to learn from you. The Path predicts that we can influence the effectiveness of Petricite by bringing him in contact with your second," Fortuna said with that same self-satisfied smile. It was incredible how she always managed to get what she wanted.

Rebecca nodded in approval. "I can keep an eye on him in DC as well. This will bring him further under our influence."

The meeting progressed into a conversation about the Path's current objectives. As always, the primary directive was the creation of more parahumans. Soon after, the meeting concluded. I left the base feeling conflicted all over again. Taking Andy under my wing was the best way to keep him safe, make sure he's not one more casualty tossed by the wayside in the name of the greater good, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth. In the end, everything, everything was for the sake of the Path.

X

2000, August 27: Washington, DC, USA

I kept up my smile as I walked away, fully aware that Andy could see me even with his back turned.

Lunch with the young man was… an experience. I read the psych reports. Rebecca briefed me. Steven briefed me. And yet, I wasn't prepared for the enigma called Andy Kim.

I went into that luncheon expecting a traumatized child. I assumed I would have to put up with an hour of hero-worship, pun intended. I'd sign a few things, take a few pictures, and he'd babble on about his day while I nodded along. I'd have to dissuade him from building the biggest baddest robot he could in favor of something more pragmatic. Or maybe, I'd have to hold him as he dribbled snot on my armor, forced to act as a therapist I definitely wasn't equipped to replace.

Andy did not talk like a child. It wasn't a matter of being precocious; I'd met plenty of precocious children. No, with him, there was an air of experience that was impossible to fake, a look in his eyes that demanded he be considered an equal.

If I closed my eyes, I would never have pegged him as a boy of eight. The waitress who served my crab cake was less mature than him. He asked after my health, talked about my alma mater, was conscientious of his public persona, noticed eavesdroppers, cited his psychiatric reports to explain why he should be treated like an adult, and demonstrated incredible foresight and ambition in his project pipeline.

Hell, he knew what a project pipeline was!

That… That wasn't the thinking of an eight year old. The lunch felt more like an amiable meeting with Keith or Steven than a chance to check up on a Ward.

What really sold it for me was the scope of his proposal. His goal wasn't just a portal device, because following Warptek's example wasn't good enough apparently. His ultimate goal was a global network dedicated to emergency deployment of heroes and evacuation of civilians.

A zero casualty endbringer event. I knew how he triggered. Few were the capes with the resolve to chase an endbringer. Fewer still could potentially make good on that burning passion.

It was a dream even I didn't dare entertain.

As much as I could admire his dedication, it broke my heart to see it in someone so young. I guess I was still struggling to put his age past me because a small part of me wanted to steer him away from such an ambitious project. The same part of me that took Wards fishing or to Disney Land wanted to keep him on street-level patrols. Maybe set him up with the Aerospace Museum so he could interact with the public.

I wanted to shield him from the bitterness of failure, the crippling despair that inevitably crashes down on anyone who stands against an endbringer. I wanted to tell him not to get his hopes up, that sacrifices were necessary, perhaps make some ambiguous promise about how we'll triumph one day. Perhaps if I steered him from such lofty goals, I could help him preserve that childish innocence for a while longer.

A bigger part of me had asked, 'What innocence?'

He triggered from Leviathan's tsunami. The same had taken his father. He was kidnapped because of Fortuna's machinations. Only a month prior, he became a killer of a dozen people. Andy Kim wasn't innocent. I'd be doing a disservice holding him back, both to him and to Cauldron's goals.

Cauldron came first. Scion's death came first.

Everything else was secondary, even my conscience. If I needed to exploit an uncomfortably mature eight year old for the greater good, I knew I would. I'd hate myself and resent the circumstances I found myself in, but there was no other way.

No other Path.

Author's Note

Finally a look at Hero. I didn't have a name for him, so I went with Eugene. Don't ask why, I have no idea either. There isn't even a fanon name like how Rune was called Cassie before Wildbow decided her name was Tammi.

Nod to Ward: Battery explored Cauldron's main compound and found that it was somewhere around what should be the Ivory Coast. The compound stretches across multiple continents and its branches are only connected by Doormaker so she needed a GPS to get anywhere. The description reminds me a little of the Team Rocket hideouts from the Pokémon games with those teleporter pads that always led to a master ball surrounded by electrodes.

And if you don't know what I'm talking about, your childhood sucked.

More details on the Path and Andy's role on it.

Steven Kajiya is Metalmaru. I mentioned his name literally just once so I don't expect you to remember it.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.