Taylor was ready. Or at least, she was as ready as she was ever going to be.
The testing with Armsmaster had gone better than expected. She had a much better understanding of the watch than she had a week ago, even if there were still plenty of mysteries left unsolved. New Wave had reluctantly agreed to support her. The PRT had committed resources. Armsmaster had spent an alarming amount of time preparing contingency plans. Miss Militia had spent an equally alarming amount of time checking those plans for flaws.
And Leviathan’s location had been narrowed down.
Everything was moving. Which was why it felt so strange that the final thing standing between her and actually leaving was a video call.
Taylor sat in a chair inside one of the secure conference rooms at PRT Headquarters while a technician finished adjusting something on the monitor mounted to the wall.
Her dad sat beside her.
He hadn’t said much during the drive over. Truthfully, he hadn’t said much at all over the past few days.
Taylor knew he wasn't a fan of her decision, and was only agreeing with it because he couldn't exactly stop her—and she was taking enough steps to reduce the risks—but she hoped this wouldn't undo the progress they’d made.
Thankfully, before she could dwell further on her familial problems, the screen turned on. A second later, a woman appeared.
Rebecca Costa-Brown, Chief Director of the PRT.
Taylor immediately sat up straighter.
Even after everything that had happened recently, there was still something surreal about speaking directly to one of the most powerful people on the planet. And she looked exactly as Taylor remembered from television interviews, professionally dressed and composed-looking.
“Miss Hebert,” Costa-Brown said.
“Director.”
There was a brief pause. Then, to Taylor’s surprise, Costa-Brown sighed. It wasn't dramatic, but it was enough to suggest this wasn’t going to be the conversation Taylor expected.
“Before we discuss the reason for this call,” she said, “there is something else I would like to address.”
Taylor blinked. “Okay.”
Costa-Brown steepled her hands together on her desk. “I was briefed on your initial meeting with the Triumvirate.”
Taylor felt herself tense, along with her dad. She had told him about it during their conversation on that day, but hadn't thought the Triumvirate would do the same to what was essentially their boss.
Apparently the Director noticed because she was quick to continue. “Specifically,” she said, “I was briefed on how that meeting was conducted.”
Taylor leaned forward despite herself, eager to know where the conversation was going.
Costa-Brown’s expression remained calm.
“The behavior displayed during that meeting was unacceptable.” A pause. “And it has consumed considerably more of my time than it should have.”
Her dad visibly relaxed, and she took her cue from him.
“If the reports I received are accurate, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, then you were treated with a level of hostility that was both unnecessary and counterproductive.”
For a moment, Taylor wasn’t sure what to say. She had spent days replaying that conversation in her head. Days trying to decide whether she had somehow misunderstood it. Whether she’d been too sensitive. Whether she had expected too much.
Hearing someone else acknowledge it so bluntly left her strangely off balance.
“Oh.”
It was not her most eloquent response.
Costa-Brown nodded slightly. “Alexandria, Eidolon, and Legend have already been informed of my thoughts on the matter.”
Something about that sentence was oddly satisfying. Maybe more satisfying than it should have been.
“The three of them will also be reaching out personally at a later date.”
Taylor stared. “They will?”
“Yes.”
“They want to apologize?”
Costa-Brown’s expression shifted ever so slightly, becoming not quite amusement. It was close though.
“To the best of my knowledge, yes.”
Part of her immediately became suspicious. The timing was convenient. Too convenient, maybe. The cynical part of her couldn’t help wondering whether someone had finally realized how bad the entire situation looked.
Maybe this was damage control. Maybe it was politics. Maybe it was both. But the longer she sat there looking at Rebecca Costa-Brown, the harder it became to hold onto that suspicion completely.
The woman didn’t seem particularly interested in convincing her of anything. If anything, she looked annoyed.
Taylor glanced sideways at her dad, exchanging a wide-eyed glance.
He seemed to be on the same page as her, which made her release a breath she didn't even know she was holding. Maybe she had been too hasty. He might not like what she was doing, but he was her dad and he was still by her side, supporting her regardless.
“Thank you,” she said finally, and she didn't know whether she was talking to the Director or her dad.
Costa-Brown inclined her head. “You are welcome.”
The conversation flowed much more easily after that.
They discussed Leviathan. Or rather, they discussed Taylor’s plan to fight Leviathan, which remained a subject of considerable concern for nearly everyone involved.
Costa-Brown was no exception. But unlike her dad, she didn't try to convince Taylor to stop. That ship had apparently sailed. Instead, she focused on preparation.
What had Armsmaster discovered during testing? Which transformations seemed most suitable? How confident was Taylor in her ability to survive prolonged combat?
The questions were practical, professional, and, maybe most importantly, it made her feel like someone whose opinion actually mattered.
By the time they finished, Taylor found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t expected.
“One final thing,” Costa-Brown said.
Taylor looked up.
“The Triumvirate will be present.”
That immediately got her attention.
“They will?”
“Yes.”
Something warm bloomed in her chest because politics or not, apologies or not, there was no denying one simple fact. The Triumvirate were powerful. Ridiculously powerful, even. If she was about to challenge Leviathan, there were very few people on Earth she would rather have nearby.
“They’ll help?”
Costa-Brown gave her a look. “They are heroes, Miss Hebert.”
Taylor immediately felt a little embarrassed.
Right. Of course they would.
The Director’s expression softened slightly. “Whatever disagreements may exist, nobody wants to see Leviathan win.”
Taylor nodded.
That made sense.
It was easy to forget sometimes. Easy to let one bad interaction reshape years of admiration.
Maybe Alexandria really was colder than Taylor had imagined. Maybe Eidolon really was intimidating. Maybe the entire first meeting had gone horribly. That didn’t necessarily mean she’d been right about all of them. After all, people were more complicated than first impressions.
The call ended shortly afterward, and the screen went dark.
For several seconds, neither Taylor nor her dad said anything. Then he leaned back in his chair and exhaled.
“Well.”
Taylor laughed.