Intermission 7.6

Eugene Lewis

2002, September 9: Algiers, Algeria

I leaned back into my chair with an explosive sigh. Building up the Guild was a lot harder than I expected it to be. When I told Rebecca that I didn't want command of another city, or even a rebuilt DC, she suggested I take over the Guild, build it up into a real force for good in the world.

The idea resonated with me. I didn't want to start over, I liked what we'd built with the PRT and Protectorate, but a part of me had always wanted a larger footprint than just North America. There was so much more that could be done and with the United Nations all but defunct after the arrival of Leviathan, there was a real need for someone to take up the mantle as international peacekeepers.

That was my vision for the Guild. Not just heroes or parahumans, but peacekeepers. I wanted to train diplomats, doctors, engineers, teachers and more who could act to better the lives of others around the globe. I wanted to respond not just to A and S-class villains, but also to famines, floods, earthquakes, and other natural disasters.

It was a good dream, one much easier said than done. Unlike when I'd help found the Protectorate, the Guild did not answer to a single government. Every international mission required specific buy-in from the local powers, introducing many more vectors for corruption and incompetence. And that wasn't even starting on the logistics of hiring, training, and equipping the right people.

The end result was that the Guild was a bit of a paper tiger at the moment, new and unproven. Canada and the United States acknowledged the Guild's mission and approved its charter but that was only the first necessary step of many. The Guild lacked international legitimacy and so I'd had to rely on the weight of my own reputation to convince world leaders to let us operate across borders.

Unfortunately, it didn't always work out. When Behemoth struck Thimphu, Bhutan in March, I was ready to take my team out to the small country to intervene. Behemoth emerged from right beneath Paro International Airport, the only international airport in Bhutan, and had paved a trail of lava towards the country's capital. The destruction of Paro International meant there was no way to bring in capes aside from teleporters, not that that mattered.

The CUI intervened and Kirin White hadn't even arrived to pick us up before we received a message from Bhutan's prime minister saying there was no room for "western powers." It didn't take long to find out that the Yangban fought the endbringer with the aid of the CUI's conventional military and the Indian Garama and Thanda capes.

Behemoth was "driven off," but only after Thimphu was reduced to slag. The loss of so much Buddhist heritage stung but the number of lives lost was remarkably light. It was only after I'd read the reports that I began to realize just why the endbringer had chosen Bhutan as a target.

The monarchy collapsed, the prime minister was assassinated within the week, and there was a proxy war between the CUI and India as the former tried to consolidate the country as a puppet state.

The CUI's reasons baffled me. How could they see an endbringer attack and think starting a war in its aftermath was the right move? How could such a thing not bring humans together? Though Bhutan was rich in minerals like calcium carbide and gypsum, it wasn't worth a war surely.

I felt like the Guild had failed even before setting off on our first mission. How could we be peacekeepers if no one welcomed us within their borders?

I took advice from Fortuna and turned inward. There would be other crises, other missions. Until then, I ought to strengthen the Guild's foundation in Canada and train our members. That was how I began spending time with Narwhal, the one Andy had marked out in his reports as a diamond in the rough.

She truly was special, and not just for her… state of dress. The statuesque woman reminded me of Rebecca; they had that same no-nonsense air about them, though where Rebecca's attitude came from her chronostatic power, Narwhal's came from her military background. The woman quickly became a trusted lieutenant of mine and I left her in charge of training new capes and field agents in emergency response protocols.

In the lab, I had Masamune, formerly of the Sentai Elite. He was a godsend, and another of Andy's "capes to watch." One of Andy's reports to Cauldron consisted of a tinker who could figure out how to mass produce tinkertech without snowballing maintenance issues. He wasn't a frontline fighter but could apparently work well with Dragon, Richter's budding AI. According to my little friend, he would have left the Sentai Elite and lived around Kyushu as a half-crazed hermit before being recruited sometime in the future.

Naturally, a tinker with mass production capabilities similar to Andy himself was far too valuable to leave wallowing in the ruins of Kyushu so Fortuna paid him a visit. Much like she had with Peter Pan, it took but a single conversation to light a fire in the man. Though rather than absorb him into Cauldron, we decided it'd be best to move him to the Guild, both to help me and to work with Richter and Dragon when we got around to recruiting them.

The gruff man spoke only broken English but I had a translator commissioned from Zero Day to get around the language barrier. Other than that initial hiccup, I found him to be a good lab partner. He was highly focused and professional, embodying in many ways the Japanese work ethic. I found him to be a fundamentally good person who joined the Sentai Elite to change his country for the better using his technology. It was a dream I could respect, one that lined up nicely with my own goals for the Guild.

Together, we settled on a standard set of gear we could give to our parahuman field operatives. Civilians such as doctors and teachers didn't need combat gear, but they could do with protective clothing and an alarm system. I once again lamented Andy's coma; the protections he'd provided his mother in the form of "enchanted" rings was superb and I would have loved to see what Masamune could make of them.

Several months after Behemoth's attack on Thimphu, Leviathan set its sights on Istanbul. By this point, the US had eight months to recover from the Simurgh's debut. It wasn't nearly enough time, thousands were still looking to reunite with their families after being scattered to the four winds by the Worldstones, but the government had pieced itself together somewhat. The Protectorate received warning from Bluesong's undersea sensors of Leviathan heading into the Mediterranean and alerted the local governments.

I left Masamune behind to coordinate responses after the attack and headed to Istanbul with only Narwhal at my side. Though several more wanted to join me and I admired their courage, I didn't feel they had what it takes to survive a fight against Leviathan. Andy was right, the Guild lacked "star power."

If Thimphu was a mercy, Istanbul was a reminder of why the endbringers were feared. My friends in the Protectorate showed up alongside the Kingsmen, Meisters, Argonauts, and other local cape teams but we couldn't keep it from flooding the Marmara Sea and cutting Istanbul in half. The Dardanelles Strait that connected the Marmara Sea to the Aegean Sea was many times wider now, so much so that the distinction between the two seas no longer seemed relevant.

One disaster followed another and after spending a week coordinating rescue efforts in Turkey, I was drawn to Algiers, Algeria to help prevent societal collapse following a major earthquake. The earthquake destroyed radio towers and dams, causing a drop in communication as well as large-scale flooding. The situation wasn't helped by the presence of countless petty warlords trying to consolidate power by promising villages food, water, and security.

Unfortunately, the promise was a deeply alluring one and the country was on the verge of a famine.

It was a problem I could not solve with brute force. For starters, I had to recognize that most of these "bandits" were recruited directly from villages with no food or water, or from villages that had been swept away by the floods. Killing them was not the answer I wanted. Even among the ringleaders, there were only a few I considered unforgivable, the sort who used child soldiers.

Second, even when I chased them down and captured their parahuman leadership, Algeria lacked the kind of prisons that could hold most capes. It sometimes seemed as though they'd go free the moment I turned my back.

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And third, because of poor communication, there was very little way to coordinate security responses or agriculture efforts. One village could have a full harvest and another only thirty miles away could be eating tree bark. I tried to remedy this by building my own communication system, but the disaster area was too wide to cover. Or, I could, but the cost would be prohibitively expensive for the Guild's budget and constant maintenance efforts would keep me grounded and I was needed for my mobility.

That was how I found myself calling up Bluesong, Hassana Musa. I still remembered the young girl she was ten years ago when I stumbled across her in a small Yoruba village in Nigeria. I'd stayed with her then, helping to bury her twin's body and teaching her about what it meant to be a tinker. At the end of the week, I offered her the chance to join me in DC.

I remembered how she stared into my eyes and demanded more: She demanded that I move her entire village with her, that I offer them better lives alongside her. "One village, one family," she'd said to me in broken English.

I'd honored her wishes then. I had Rebecca fast-track their citizenship and organized English tutors, career advisors, and other social service workers to get them settled. Bluesong repaid me a thousandfold and quickly shot up the ranks to become one of the most celebrated tinkers in the United States. She became one of my dear friends, one I hadn't spoken to in months.

The call went through and Bluesong's face took over my screen. She was as pretty as ever, among the most naturally photogenic people I knew, though she now sported small bags under her eyes. That was in itself mildly alarming. I knew from experience with her that she was prone to overworking herself and had to drag her out of the lab personally on multiple occasions. Her costume had changed a little as well, presumably to better settle into the Florida heat.

"Hero!" she said with a bright smile. "How are you? It's been so long."

"Hey, Blue. I'm doing good. Things are a bit hectic here but I'm floating along. How's Jacksonville?"

"It's fine for the most part. Steven's been a huge help," she said. Metalmaru, Steven, had retired from the Protectorate and after working as an outside consultant for a few months, attached himself on a more permanent basis to the Jacksonville PRT.

"Heh, yeah. He's always been the go-to guy for all the logistics stuff. Everyone thinks I did everything but really, I had so much on my plate that I wouldn't have survived the Madhouse if it weren't for him."

"I know, right? He knows everyone. The director of special projects at FEMA? Supply chain manager from the Red Cross? Doesn't matter. It's a little scary how good he is at getting people to talk to him. Just getting people settled in would have taken weeks longer if it wasn't for him."

"Heh. Glad to hear you two are doing alright. You look a little tired though," I said, gesturing vaguely to the bags under her eyes. "You're not overworking yourself, are you?"

She let out a dainty sniff. "As if you're one to talk. Either you're growing a beard or you got so caught up in things that you lost your plasma razor. Again."

"Hey, I know where it is…"

"Really? Where is it?"

"Okay, maybe not, but that's besides the point. I just… haven't gotten around to shaving."

"Hmm," she hummed disbelievingly. "Steven told me a funny story about how you built that plasma razor because you can't bear to shave without it."

"Hey! I told him that in confidence!"

"How old are you, Hero? Don't you think you should know how to use a razor?" she asked with a teasing grin.

"I do," Idefended, even knowing it was a lost cause. "I just have sensitive skin, all right?"

"Right, of course."

"Anyway, how busy are you, really?"

The conflicted look on her face sent alarm bells through my mind. The Bluesong I knew was confident and self-assured, seldom confused. "It's… all right… I think?"

"You sound unsure. What happened?"

"It's just… Have you ever heard of a cape named Gator Priest?"

"No, sorry. I'm not familiar with Jacksonville villains."

"No, I suppose not. Well, he used to go by Floridaman before he suddenly rebranded."

That name sounded familiar, if only for how ridiculous some of the stories involving him could get. "Wait, is this the same Floridaman who threw a live alligator through a Taco Bell window?"

"That's right. He also had a bunch of gang members he recruited try to shoot down an incoming hurricane," she said with a resigned smile. "You know, those headlines used to sound funnier before they became my problem."

"I'll bet. But what's wrong with Flori-Gator Priest? I mean, he's a nutjob but a mostly harmless one, right?"

"He is. He's currently in the ICU after getting shot. About a month ago, he showed up and rebranded himself, saying the endbringers were messengers of God to cleanse the world. A few weeks after Leviathan hit Istanbul, he built an altar in front of the largest mosque in Jacksonville saying Leviathan's rain cleansed all the unfaithful. One of the mosque-goers shot him and the worst part is that I can't even be upset."

I winced. "At least he's taken care of? It sounds like a problem that solved itself."

"In a way, but I'm worried that he's not just an idiot who played around until karma caught up to him. I've been hearing rumors that endbringer worship is on the rise. People are saying Last Christmas was a clear sign from God that Judgment Day is coming soon and that the Simurgh is an angel sent to guide the faithful."

That was far more worrying than an idiot with a penchant for throwing alligators. Before Andy fell into a coma, he had asked Fortuna to acquire a very specific vial, one that could have one day become the power of one Christine Mathers. In that brief, he'd offered us an overview of the Fallen and their repulsive breeding practices. I had thought removing Mathers and her anti-thinker power from the equation would keep the Fallen from emerging as a threat but perhaps I'd been naive.

After all, endbringer worship was an ideology, one uniquely appealing to the broken and the desperate. Earth-Bet had an awful lot of those. Though Mathers wasn't an issue anymore and rooting out any single cell would be far easier, that didn't mean people couldn't radicalize.

That begged the question: Was it an organized movement? Would they go by a different name? Or, would endbringer worship remain chaotic and disjointed, and all the harder to stamp out because of it?

"I'll look into it," I promised her. We'd put so much time and effort into nurturing powerful capes for the final battle; I refused to let Cauldron's work be undermined by delusional capes preying on the desperate.

"Thank you, Hero. Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"

"There was. Bluesong, do you remember one of the first things you made? A speaker that broadcasted subsonic frequencies only audible to elephants?"

"Yes, of course I do. Why do you ask?"

I explained the current situation to her. "In summary, I need a robust communication network that'll be viable even in rural areas and require minimal maintenance. I also need security measures to keep away elephants, hogs, birds, and whatever else might be interested in the crops. Just those two things would streamline our relief efforts a great deal."

"I can see that. Of course I'll help, Hero. But remember that what I make for you might not last longer than a few months no matter how much I simplify it. I can't hop across the Atlantic just to perform maintenance."

"Of course not; you're a protectorate leader now. You've got your own worries. A few months should get us through the harvest. We can figure out more permanent solutions then."

"As long as you know that. I'll get started this week. Was there anything else? Because I've got a date to get to."

I blinked at that. "Oh? Congratulations. Did Steven finally ask you out?"

She chuckled lightly. "Actually, I asked him. I got tired of him waffling so I decided to stop waiting."

"Hahahaha, that's great. How's he doing by the way? I haven't talked to him as often as I should have."

"He's doing well. He received a lot of flack for accidentally outing Hyunmu but that's died down over the months. He's still the same lovable dork as ever. We're going out to see a standup comedy show before grabbing sushi." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Quick, tell me how to eat sushi."

"Hah, I know for a fact I've taken you out to sushi at least once, Blue."

"Yes, but you did all the ordering then!"

"So let Steven do the ordering. Seems simple to me."

"Silly man. I don't want to seem uneducated."

"Hassana, you're Nigerian. I doubt Steven expects you to know anything about Japanese food. Just ask him and let him guide you through it. It can be a conversation starter if nothing else."

"Okay, maybe you're right. At least tell me if I'm supposed to drink sake hot or cold."

"Depends on the sake."

"Truly, you're a wonderful help."

"I am," I agreed with her sarcasm. "Have fun on your date, Blue. And tell Steven he better not screw this up. I know he's been pining for you for years now."

"I will. Later, Hero."

The call cut out soon after and I leaned back into my chair with a relaxed smile. Catching up with a friend was always nice, especially one I didn't get to see on a weekly basis at Cauldron meetings. I considered Bluesong, Hassana, to be something between a little sister and niece so it was nice to see she was settling into Jacksonville as well as could be expected.

Alas, I wasn't able to kick back for more than a minute before I received a message that signaled another incoming call. Algeria. The Guild. They were all a work in progress.

Author's Note

Yes, I'm aware that Turkey wants to be called Turkiye because they think sharing the same name as the Thanksgiving birb is insulting. Considering this happening in 2002, a full two decades before their UN proposal would arrive, I don't really care.

Animal fact? Sure. All honeybees you see out in the wild are in their last two weeks or so of life despite living one or two months. They're not born foragers, nurses, climate control, is because honeybees change jobs as they grow up and only the eldest are sent out of the hive under normal circumstances. Younger bees clean the hive, feed larvae, pamper the queen, beat their wings to cool the temperature, etc. so as to maintain a stable population flow.

To answer your question preemptively, I expect this arc to continue until 7.10 (or until Riley triggers).

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.