Marian Avenue resembled the aftermath of a nuclear disaster.

Large strips of asphalt had been upturned, peeled back like skin. Streetlights poked out the side of buildings, flickering in place. A good number of the houses sported signs of ruination. Others had transitioned to rubble. Property owners gathered outside the cordoned area, keening in dismay.

The weather keened alongside them, choosing to hamper matters. Thunder rumbled in an overcast sky, cheering the chill wind that buffeted the scene. A relentless drizzle pattered against the ground, wetting man and stone and thing.

Fara huddled into her jacket. A puddle blocked her path and she evaded it, only to end up with a pebble lodged in the sole of her boot. It scraped the ground as she walked, shooting irritable sensations up her spine.

Men of the Emergency Agency and the SRA combed every inch of the street. Two Supers aided the efforts—non-combatants from the Intervention Commission. It spoke to the CAH's talents that civilian casualties had topped off at a middling three. However, three was still worse than zero. And in the light of recent events in Sagidi, any non-zero number was a number the Council couldn't afford.

The public knew that No Light had been in CAH custody, and the public would blame the latter for his escape. Consequences would arise from yesterday’s blunder—the magnitude of which was anyone's guess.

“Heave!” an emergency worker yelled.

His fellows did as he commanded, hefting a pillar off the ground. They inspected the house behind it, checking that no one was trapped within.

Fara continued her rounds, returning greetings from Oluloye's soldiers. She scuffed her boot against the ground, and the pebble came off, rolling into a depression in the street. No Light had wreaked a path of havoc through most of Domo, but the collective destruction paled in comparison to Marian where the bulk of fighting had occurred.

The Avenue would require millions to return to a semblance of working order—money the local government didn't have to spare. The CAH would chip in to help for certain, but how long could the status-quo continue?

Supers and their factions would fight many more battles down the line. All of which promised unavoidable carnage. And following the predictions of GAG, that the African rainforest regions looked to be the next hotbed of Superhuman activity, things would only get worse.

The crisis would start small, Fara knew. First: Marian and Sagidi before it. A rapid escalation would follow, leading to widespread assault, destroyed social services and institutional collapse . . . until the patches proved unable to hold, and the entire country went up in a blaze of anger, violence, and death.

“Kobo for your thoughts?”

Fara steeled her spine, just enough to avoid jumping in surprise.

Pallbearer stood behind her in the rain, fully geared with his dagger clasped at his side. His dark eyes glinted, set too deep in a face obscured by bandages. His demeanor screamed nonchalance, but Fara knew him well enough to tell. The bastard was pleased. Pleased with his prank.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he greeted.

“Habib,” Fara rasped, unable to douse her ire, “you were warned.”

“My apologies,” Pallbearer drawled. “But we are currently out of sight. I double-checked. I figured you'd value celerity over paranoia in matters of this nature.”

Fara glanced back at the Avenue. Sometime during her musing, she had wandered away from the bulk of the wreckage. A large piece of rubble—someone's balcony at some point—pierced the street, shading her from curious eyes. It confirmed Pallbearer's assertions, but it didn't make his actions any less brazen.

“Your orders,” she said, letting her wrath slip, “were issued to ensure we do not lose a valuable trump card against the CAH.”

“I checked—”

“If you think,” Fara hissed, “that the Council does not have eyes in places you can't imagine to look, then you are a fool, Habib.”

Pallbearer flinched.

“The Council must never learn of your existence. Do you understand?”

“Yes . . .”

“You have not replied, soldier.”

“Yes, ma,” he said, snapping to attention.

Fara frowned. A long time ago, she would have ordered him whipped for the infarction. Sadly, she operated by different rules now. Concessions, concessions, it was always concessions. The entire thing sickened her. But she needed to make them if she would leash the talents that helped facilitate her goals.

“Report,” she barked.

Pallbearer stayed at attention. “Initial events played out as planned, ma. The Heroes arrived at the sawmill in one piece and after a brief recon, they attacked the Four-oh-Four.”

“Casualties?”

“Nil on either side. No real ones at least. There was a lot of hard fighting, so I can't vouch for the accuracy of this info.”

Fara clucked her tongue, tasting rainwater. “And Elixir?”

“YamaYama made away with her. Out over the lagoon. The fighting ended with the arrival of the Combat suits and the capture of Manbite and Tellmenot.” He paused. “I'm guessing this isn’t an acceptable turn of events?”

Fara mulled over the information. “No, it is.”

Elixir was an incredible asset. One Fara wanted in her Special Forces Battalion. She hated the idea that the Four-oh-Four got to keep her. However, following the less-than-optimal outcome of yesterday, Elixir had now become the most valuable piece of the puzzle.

Her continued captivity meant the CAH would crack down on the syndicate, which in turn would trigger a pushback and lead to the gang's meteoric rise in infamy.

The situation was dicey. The chance existed that the Council could obliterate the Four-oh-Four before they became something greater. However, Supervillains, like moths, gathered to the brightest flames. And for the next two years, the Four-oh-Four would be the brightest flame this part of the country—as long as she had a say in the matter.

It also helped that the criminal underbelly of the South-West, though teeming with Supers, suffered a leadership void. What monsters would be flushed out of hiding in the events that followed? Definitely nothing good. The Council's dominance over the South had reached its twilight.

“How did your assignment at the Council base fare?” she asked, shelving her thoughts for later. “Did you find anything in the chaos?”

Pallbearer shook his head. “The Four-oh-Four’s methods were messy. I was too focused on staying alive. I broke into Pro-now's office sometime during No Light's rampage. My efforts to load a cold virus into his computer failed spectacularly.”

“Explain.”

“They have a Fabricator, ma. And I don't mean Neviecha or the silly tech bros posted at Division headquarters. An actual computer Fabricator. One with the programming know-how to combat cold attacks remotely.”

Fara blinked through the rain. “Pro-now's ability means he doubles as an inventor.”

“Oh no. Not him. I recognize his touch. He rigged a bomb into his pc. Almost blew myself to pieces trying to lay it on its side. I’m talking about more advanced defenses. The kind that destroyed my virus during the computer’s boot sequence. A masterwork of coding.”

Fara chewed her lip. A second Fabricator other than Neviecha?

The Newtown Council had handled a few cases shortly after its inception, one of which involved a brutal double murder and a Super with an affinity to rats.

“The Popoola cousins,” she muttered. “Official documents stated the younger was unpowered. But he was a bright scholarship student who left the country on Council protection.”

“You think the Heroes recruited him?”

“They might be called the Hero Council, but heroes they are not. I am not sure what the CAH did, but they took an interest in the case. The older cousin—Lekan, if I remember correctly—fled incarceration before he could be handed over to the SRA.”

The wind blew in Pallbearer’s face, lifting his bandages. “Well, whoever they are, they didn't make life any easier for me. And just when I thought I'd succeeded too.”

Fara wheeled on him. “You were discovered?”

“No, ma’am. They will scratch their heads over unusual activity in their antiviral logs, but nothing will show it was done in person. They will query their cyber security and move on.”

Fara curled her lip. “Need I remind you, Pallbearer, that your usefulness hinges on the fact your abilities remain unknown. The moment the CAH knows what to expect—”

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“They will never expect me,” Pallbearer said, adopting a touch of his usual nonchalance. “Though, I must admit. I barely got in place in time for Hyperlink to complete the transfer. Almost gave myself away with a sneeze.”

Fara's fingers twitched. “We are done here.”

“One last issue,” Pallbearer said, tapping the hilt of his dagger. “I could have saved us years of trouble yesterday if you'd given the order. I got close enough to Pro-now at the mill. It would have been easy to slit his windpipe from his throat.”

“You would have died,” Fara said, glancing up the street. The emergency workers busied themselves with their jobs, but a familiar movement caught her eye. A large portion of the ground stirred behind the SRA vehicles, running like a slurry. “Besides, those weren't your orders.”

“You don't think I can take him,” Pallbearer said, tone neither light nor playful. “You always say I have the potential to be better than him.”

Better than Pro-now? Fara almost snorted. Saver wasn't better than Pro-now, not where it mattered. And the former was the most powerful Super on the continent.

Still, she could work with this revelation. Pallbearer maintained a loose posture, but his arms trembled in agitation. Despite his mannerisms, the ace of the 716 prided himself on his skills. His ability was a simple one. Special operations rarely required flashy powers. However, what Pallbearer lacked in firepower, he more than made up for in smarts, expertise, and killer instinct.

His near suicidal drive to prove himself was the prime reason she'd handpicked him into her posse. And she would continue tugging the leash if only to keep him restless and pliable.

“Potential, Pallbearer,” she said, feigning indifference, “does not equal skill. Of your two predecessors, Pro-now is the one you should fear the most.”

“I am better,” Pallbearer spat. “Just give me the chance to prove it.”

Oh, this was lovely. A time and place would come to thoroughly exploit his weakness, but it wasn't today.

“Do you have anything else to report, soldier?” she snapped.

Pallbearer fell silent. Then he grunted. “The Pacesetters. If those children are meant to be the future of the CAH, we might as well stop trying to destroy them. They will do the job for us.”

“You weren't impressed with their performance? Not even with Activity’s?”

“I wasn't. Though their newest addition might be the best of the shit pile. I had to back out of range after I was blindsided by Communion's abilities. But from what I spied, he could hold his own against Boil, then Cnidarian.”

Fara raised an eyebrow. All Mine's assessment of Volley had been less than flattering. Though, in his defense, better Supers had quailed in the face of the killing duo that was Exhaust and Wicker.

“Ooh. Forgot to mention,” Pallbearer added with a snicker. “The new guy and Activity had a falling out following YamaYama's escape. New guy didn't like how Activity treated the gangsters. I could have sworn they'd kill each other.”

Infighting within the ranks? Now, that was good.

“Submit a full report of any and everything you remember,” Fara said. “I want it on my table tomorrow morning.”

“Yes.”

Fara narrowed her eyes.

“Y-yes, ma.”

“You are dismissed. I don't want you staying in the open longer than you should.”

Pallbearer saluted. Then he was gone. In less time than it took her to blink. He hadn't teleported. He’d only bent waves to enable invisibility and muffle his emissions. But that simple ability made him vital to her operations. No one ever saw him come. Until they were dead.

“He's a handful,” a new voice said.

Fara pulled her patrol cap closer to her head. “Is he gone?”

“Mm . . . yes, he is.”

The newcomer approached her, dressed in urban camouflage and a wide-brimmed boonie hat. She fired a salute.

“Mixer,” Fara greeted, returning the gesture. “Any luck?”

Mixer shook her head. Her left arm jostled in its sling. “I fear No Light's evaded us for now. He went down the tunnels meant for the subway. Signs of his passage suddenly disappeared.”

Fara clucked her tongue again. “Double the search efforts. He's a triple-ranker. Rb1-Pg1-Bg3. I don't want him slipping from our grasp.”

“Yes, ma.” She didn't leave.

“Problems, Major?”

Mixer nodded. “I have a few questions regarding our activities yesterday. I would appreciate truthful answers.”

Straightforward as always. “Go ahead,” Fara said.

Mixer inhaled and her barrel-like chest shuddered in exertion. “Did you know that Evans and YamaYama were one and the same?”

Fara winced. “I did.”

“So, you expected Boil to lead an attack on the Council base?”

“I might have indirectly cajoled him in that direction . . .”

Mixer furrowed her brows. The higher-ups of Seventeen Division considered her a slow learner, but Fara was privy to the razor-sharp intellect concealed beneath the woman’s face.

“You lured the Heroes out of their base,” Mixer pondered aloud, “and prodded the syndicate to strike. You wanted them to annihilate each other.”

“Cripple each other, more like,” Fara said, knowing where the conversation was headed. “The CAH cannot be allowed to consolidate their hold on the South.”

“So, we throw their domain into chaos.” Mixer shuffled, unbothered by the rain. “I do not like this. Nevertheless, I can’t challenge our orders. With the ongoing restoration of the North-East and the Yan’s entrenchment in the North-West, losing supremacy in the South would emasculate the Executive.”

It was an oversimplification of the true reality. But it worked. The CAH considered itself a humanitarian organization, but what it did was no different from massing a pile of nukes within a country's borders and slapping a red cross symbol on it. The Government had waited to see if the nukes would go off and had lost Lagos in the process. They’d waited some more, and now the nukes had spread.

Maybe she listened too keenly to her paranoia, but since when did an independent militaristic force bode well for any nation? Especially when said force was funded by foreign interests? The CAH was fundamentally similar to the Yan, save that the latter won ground with the sword, while the former did same with both pen and sword.

“We're not sowing mindless chaos,” Fara warned. “We're controlling when and how the inevitable occurs. We limit the damage this way and save more lives in the process.” She wiped the rain from her face. “In the best-case scenario, the Villains and the Council would wipe themselves out in brutal but directed conflict. Failing that, we engineer an outcome that leaves the FG poised to crush both when they are done.”

“But your plans yesterday did not succeed,” Mixer said. “The Four-oh-Four took Elixir. And your attempt to force more fighting between the groups did not result in tangible losses.”

Fara answered with a smile.

“Mm. You are content with the way things turned out. You intend to support the Four-oh-Four in the coming days. Keep the both of them at each other's throats.”

“We will discuss this in-depth at a more befitting location,” Fara said. The rain had upped its ante, battering them with sleet.

“All Mine almost died yesterday,” Mixer said. “She got shot by Exhaust. Burst fire to the head.”

“She didn't tell me—”

“Because you aren't easy to trust.” The larger woman’s hand rippled, shifting from flesh to slurry to stone. “Your plan to decimate our enemies in a single shot was fair. But you sent our people into the viper’s nest in the first phase, knowing we were going to be ambushed.”

And there it was. Mixer's bone of contention. The woman had forced this conversation in the rain, knowing Fara succumbed to high tempers when discomforted.

“I didn't do that,” Fara said, keeping her tone even. “I’ll never throw your lives away. The people of the 716 are irreplaceable.”

“But you did something.”

“. . . Yes. I tipped the Four-oh-Four—warned them anonymously about the raid on their weapons cache. I didn't expect them to clear it out so fast or to fortify the rest of their strongholds.” Fara rubbed her brows, feeling her irritation build. “The Four-oh-Four shouldn't have achieved all they did in less than three hours. Someone else had a hand in the stakes, and I intend to find out who.”

Mixer stooped, staring Fara straight in the eye. “Is this a lie?”

“It isn’t.”

Mixer held her gaze. She rose to full height. “I believe you. You’ve never lied to me. Still, a warning would have been nice.”

“I didn't expect our soldiers to encounter serious resistance in YamaYama's getaway. And I knew guns posed no threat to you.” Fara sighed. “I should apologize to All Mine. I had no idea . . .”

“You should. Corporal Lawal included the details in his report. I have ordered him to write and forward to your desk.”

“Thank you.”

“One bit puzzles me though. If mutual annihilation was the goal, why didn't you order Pallbearer to pick off any Hero he could?”

“It would have been too obvious.”

“Would it?”

“I have a soul, Major,” Fara snarled. “I want the CAH to fold fighting the Four-oh-Four—”

“But you aren't willing to pull the trigger yourself. Odd. You’ve never hesitated with cold-hearted decisions. Or is this because of your past relationship with—”

“Osarioname,” Fara said in a quiet voice, using the woman’s name. “Do not go there.”

Mixer’s expression turned neutral. She drew herself into attention. “Forgive me, Colonel. I spoke out of turn.”

“Be sure this does not happen again.”

“It wouldn’t.”

Fara’s fingers twitched. She hadn't meant to rebuke her subordinate, but Mixer had come close to broaching a topic she never wanted to entertain. Even among friends.

“I can’t have Pallbearer killing Council Supers,” Fara said, more to herself than the Major. “The CAH would put two and two together. Maybe not immediately, but soon enough to matter. If they discover I'd ordered the assassinations of their people, usurping their control of the South would be the least of our problems.”

“Keep our secrets simple,” Mixer murmured.

“And keep them close. I lied about Hyperlink’s abilities for the same reason. Someday, this farce with the CAH will end. But until then, we must cherish every piece of goodwill we garner.”

Before the inevitable battle.

Fara wasn’t exactly keen on a repeat of the Eight-Day War, but the upcoming fight could not be avoided. She’d told Pro-now that the country sat in a boiling pot threatening to spill.

What she hadn't told him was that the higher-ups considered the CAH the cooking fire. And she’d been tasked with killing the heat.

“There's another matter,” Mixer said.

“Hmm?”

“Our eyes in the Newtown Council mentioned the arrest of a high-ranking official. On allegations of sabotage.”

Fara froze.

“Apparently, he’s been working with the Four-oh-Four and aided them in the attack.”

“The Four-oh-Four doesn't have a mole on the Council,” Fara said. “Every piece of information they receive comes from our agents.”

Mixer rolled her shoulders. “I thought as much. I take it the arrested official is your contact in the CAH?”

Fara pursed her lips. Contact was a loose term. Collaborator, more like? And these days, he even acted as an employer. She'd never met the man in person; he only operated by proxy. But he seemed too shrewd to be ousted so cheaply.

“What's the name of this official?” she asked.

“Our informant wasn't sure. I can probably find out. You know how the CAH is with names.” Mixer squared her jaw. “You act surprised. The arrested man isn't your contact?”

“I don’t think so. Find out everything you can about him. And submit the details to me.”

“Understood.”

Fara grimaced, filing the last few thoughts away atop her mental stack. The stack overflowed, pulsing behind her eyelids. She would need a breather to sift through the backlog. “Where's All Mine?”

“I recommend you grant her the week off,” Mixer said. “She is spent, even though she doesn't show it.”

“I approve. I'm guessing she is resting in her quarters?”

“She is. She made an odd request earlier. To visit the Hero council. See how they were doing.”

Fara raised an eyebrow.

Mixer replied with an easy grin, “She is enamored of a boy there.”

“Let me guess,” Fara said drily, “Volley?”

“I believe that is his name.”

Ah. She understood now why All Mine had delivered a scathing report about Volley. The younger girl didn't want Fara to take an interest in him.

“You are annoyed,” Mixer observed.

“Very. But do not discourage her. She'll tire out on her own. And if they get close enough, we can exploit the situation.”

“I do not endorse this line of thinking. All Mine holds me in confidence, and I cannot afford to alienate her.”

“You can't,” Fara agreed. But I can.

Thunder boomed overhead. The terrible weather halted the work of the Emergency teams, but Fara was satisfied enough with what they'd achieved. The people needed to view the SRA in a positive light, and all they would see today was a Council-born disaster, cleaned up by SRA troops.

She must have smiled to herself because Mixer glanced at her dubiously.

“Are we done with Newtown?” the Major asked.

“For now. We'll leave Oluloye’s brigade to handle things and move on to our next plan.”

Mixer's boonie hat whipped about in the wind. “And pray tell, what does this plan entail?”

“A relocation,” Fara whispered. “In search of softer targets. Let’s pay a visit to the CAH in Ibadan.”