Dan watched from afar as Senator Madison climbed back into his limo. His bodyguard shut the door and glanced around, dark sunglasses glinting. The sun was on a downward spiral, dipping towards the horizon. The parking lot dwindled in traffic; services were ending for the day. The great doors of the Evo Church fell shut with a reverberating noise like a cymbal crash. The bodyguard, seeing no danger of note, joined his charge. The limo pulled out of the lot, and crept onto the road. It moved towards the capitol, oil slick blackness against a long, grey road.

Washington D.C. loomed large in the distance. The skyline was radically different from Dan's, more dense, more polluted. The Washington Monument still stood high and proud, like a spear-tip stabbing at the sky, but it no longer stood alone. There was the RED Building, of course, which looked like nothing less than a giant's heart, ripped bleeding from its chest and planted like a tree near the center of downtown. It wasn't tall so much as broad, and very, very red. It stuck out like a tomato in a field of grass.

The Hoover Building was another blight on the landscape. FBI Headquarters was a boxy, honeycombed structure that more closely resembled a beehive than a building. It was both wide and tall, more mountain than obelisk, but the entire thing was covered in a restricted brand of sight-obfuscating SmartPaint. This created a blurring effect that simultaneously diverted eyes, and caused intense headaches. The effect was moderated by distance, but was so strong that aircraft pilots often reported mild symptoms when landing at Washington National Airport, despite the Hoover Building being over six miles away, and only just barely in sight.

New recruits to the FBI were offered a specific, and highly controlled, eye upgrade that apparently solved the issue, and allowed a person to find the entrance to the Hoover Building without suffering debilitating migraines. There was very little traffic in and around the building itself. It made identifying passerby a trivial thing. Roads were deliberately diverted around the building, to avoid accidents. No civilians would voluntarily pass by, unless they absolutely had to.

There were more towering structures, some Dan knew, and others he did not. The Mays Manufacturing Headquarters, a blue and white cylinder, capped with a yellow roof, towered above its downtown competitors. The Red Tide training facility, where the Department of Treasury sent prospective Secret Service agents for training and upgrades, had an entire field to its lonesome. The structure itself was shaped almost like a prison, with several open yard surrounded by caged fences, and a central tower that rose into the sky, slate-grey and looming.

Every building, whether by bribery, politics, or basic necessity, broke the maximum height requirements that had been imposed on the rest of the city. It lead to an irregular skyline that most tried to call idiosyncratic, and Dan just called ugly. Yet, it was in this hideous city that over a million people lived and worked. It was here that was the government's seat of power, where the delicate ballet of democracy took place. Senators and Congressmen, politicians, advisors, lobbyists, all working for their own ends and those of the people they represented. And now, in Dan's possession, was approximately forty-five minutes of video that might set it all aflame.

Senator Madison was an institution. His constituents had voted for him for literal generations. His voting record was impeccably in line with his stated values, and scandal had never blackened his doorstep. He was firmly pro-Natural, anti-war, and anti-violence. He'd voted against the Vigilante Acts, had firmly supported the People as they pursued a status as a legal institution, yet had firmly denounced them after the death of Champion and their descent into terrorism. He was a stubborn, unchanging, unfailingly moral man by all public accounts, who'd apparently conspired with the local cult to produce illegal Naturals in an attempt to... what? Legitimize vigilantism once more?

Dan wished he could just ask the man. He kept up his surveillance as he pondered, idly wishing that Madison would find himself alone in a room, and begin to monologue about his motives and background. There were only two realistic options: power, or ideology. Not that it narrowed things down, much. Madison had gained plenty of power from pursuing his stated ideology. So, probably some mixture of both. Regardless, the evidence Dan had acquired was a far cry from irrefutable, but more than enough to throw dirt at a politician who'd rarely ever been dirtied. He could release it to the press, who'd have a field day over the footage. Nothing brought viewers quite like heroes, fallen from grace.

Irresponsible wouldn't even begin to describe such an action. Dan hated that he held such a thing, hated more that he didn't have the slightest clue of what to do with it. Abby was the same; for all her grandmother's political power, Abby had always ducked the spotlight. Her knowledge was gained in bits and pieces, accidentally over time. She couldn't begin to guess how something like this might land. Not even Anastasia Summers could do that.

He tried to calm down, to refocus. He was blowing this completely out of proportion. Forget the guesswork. What is it that he actually had? Factually speaking, without any inferences or background knowledge. Dan could prove that the Evo Church possessed a cosmic generator, something that Abby guessed may have been legally acquired. He could prove that they were using it for a nonstandard function, something that was absolutely illegal without specific permits. He could prove that Senator Madison had worked with the Evo Church in the past, and had conspired with them to create at least two orbs that granted the gift of 'Evolution Everlasting.'

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The Evo Church might be able to argue that the last bit was simply a religious term, and that the orbs were objects of worship, rather than any kind of powered artifact, but their own website explicitly defined 'Evolution Everlasting' as the power of cosmic energy (passed down by fourth-dimension aliens or something). Dan could prove that. It might be enough to disgrace Madison, but was it enough to remove him from the field? And what about the People?

The Elder had implied Madison's alliance with the People was foolish—which was obviously true—because he lacked the means to contact them. While Dan might prefer the alliance to be fragile, it complicated Anastasia's plans to pressure Madison into exposing his allies. The man couldn't run to the People for shelter if he didn't know where they were hiding. Anastasia would realize it too, the moment she finished reviewing the tape. They would have to reevaluate their plans, not only to account for the change, but to figure out how to address the Evo Church's role in this mess.

In the meantime, Dan kept up his surveillance. Madison and his retinue returned to their campaign headquarters, where the old senator continued to plan out speeches and fundraisers. They finally adjourned around dinner time, and Madison was carted off to a dinner function for a children's charity. The event lasted well into the evening, and it wasn't until midnight that Madison finally pulled into a hotel, and went to sleep.

"He was a busy bee," Abby said, passing Dan a hot cup of cocoa. Her hair was wet, and a towel was draped around her shoulders. She was fresh from the shower, and smelled like lavender flowers.

Dan sipped at the cocoa, letting the sugar and chocolate wash down the monotony of the day. He wasn't built for this kind of long-term surveillance. For every wild revelation, he'd sat through hours of tedium. It wasn't sustainable, long term. Dan couldn't even outsource the job to Anastasia's people. He was the central component of the whole operation. Without the mobility of his doorways, they'd be stuck relying on static surveillance. It's not like she could have the man followed. The senator's security team would almost certainly spot any kind of prolonged tail.

Madison seemed exceptionally paranoid of surveillance. He'd kept his conversation topics strictly mundane throughout the entire day, not a whisper of anything illegal, except for within the fortified walls of the Evo Church, after passing through multiple layers of security. He hadn't returned to the home that they'd so painstakingly wired, nor to any of his other offices or residences. Even the hotel room was something that had been booked only an hour earlier, and was nowhere near the kind of quality one would expect to house a senator. He was a paranoid son of a bitch, without a doubt.

"We need to change up, soon," Dan decided, as he cut the final door. Madison's sleeping form vanished from the television screen. Dan's veil snaked into his camera and removed its storage device. He slipped the little chip into a slot on his laptop and started to download the enormous video file. He'd ship it off to Anastasia for analysis, something that would hopefully take until morning.

Abby hummed indecisively, bobbing her head left, then right. "Only a day, and we've already learned a lot," she pointed out. "Might be worth sticking to it for a while."

"He's going to juice up a new vigilante, and ship him off into the wild," Dan said. "The last time that happened, I'm pretty sure we got Galeforce. I'm not willing to stand by and watch it happen again."

Abby drummed her fingers against the ceramic of her cup. She mouthed something to herself, then sat upright. Her eyes flicked to Dan, mischief dancing in them.

"You could steal the orb," she pointed out. "You could do it now, while he's asleep. Send it to Mama Ana, let her people poke at it, then return it before Madison wakes up. He'd never know."

That was... actually possible. Madison had wrapped the orb in a jacket and stuffed it into his briefcase. Dan's veil could snag it, no problem. So long as they were exceedingly careful with the thing, so long as its composition was unchanged, they could very well do it. And even if they messed up, what would Madison think? He couldn't possibly suspect that someone had teleported it away, done a battery of tests on it, then returned it, could he? How paranoid would one have to be?

There was one snag. The orb was almost alive. Its cosmic signature felt like it sat on the border between plant and animal, between lump of unfeeling cells, and a thinking being. The Gap was the source of consciousness, and it had been hardwired into that round lump of wood. How had that changed it? Could it feel? Could it experience, and remember? And, most importantly, could Madison access those experiences with his power?

It was a risk. Was it worth it?

Dan settled on, "No. We've got a solid guess on what the orb does. There's no point taking risks that might let Madison know we're onto him. But when he goes to make a new Natural, I want to be ready to instantly move on him. It's got to be soon; tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, especially if he's going to be living out of hotels. I can't imagine he keeps that orb stuffed in his suitcase for long. Can you imagine some random bellhop stealing it?"

Abby winced. "Yeah. That would be bad."

"Alright then." The download finished. Dan compressed the massive video file, slapped it onto an email, and sent it off to Anastasia. She would undoubtedly call them sometime in the morning, to adjust their plans for Madison. They'd finalize things, then.

"Come on." Abby pulled at Dan's arm, grinning down at him. "You've had a long day. Let's go to bed."

Dan smiled at her, and let himself be led away.