[Consolidating Anticipation]
— Thomas Calvert, Coil —
He hadn’t left his bunker in a month now. Every day of that month had felt like an entire year.
His civilian identity was almost certainly burned beyond repair. His cape plans were dust in the wind. Nothing was going right, not since that damned Dragon arrived. And all he could do was watch from the sidelines.
It rankled. Coil wasn’t used to feeling so… helpless. So without any agency to speak of. He wasn’t used to being so fundamentally overpowered, outplayed, and out of context to work with.
But against the Dragon and all he’d brought with him, what could a simple supervillain truly do?
For all the resources he’d gathered to his banner — his mercenaries, the Undersiders, his favors owed by Faultline and her crew, his wealth and capital, his place in the PRT — he was almost completely without options that would change a thing, anything at all.
In Coil’s humble opinion, the Dragon was the worst thing to happen to Brockton Bay. The worst thing to happen to the world, even — his world.
Ancalagon had come roaring onto the scene and utterly flipped the board. That was more than a month ago now, and the board hadn’t even begun to recover. Coil was certain it never would, not into anything he recognized.
Coil prided himself on adaptability, on planning, on resourcefulness, and on looking out for himself, first and foremost, as best he could.
Against a Dragon, though, that pride amounted to very little. There were limits to adaptability and planning. There were limits to resourcefulness when up against a Dragon, his Hoard, and his overwhelming power. He could still look out for himself, first and foremost, but doing so left him… with inaction and nothing more.
He kept his head down, stuck in his lair. He let events above play out as they would, his power little to no help now. He watched every moment of all of it, but that was all he could do: watch.
At least he hadn’t made an irrecoverable mistake yet. The bogeywoman in that damned hat had ordered him to ‘poke the Dragon’, and that had ended with Lung dead, half the city in chaos that he could’ve used, and the Undersiders slipping his grip over them, but at the very least, his involvement there had never come to light. The Dragon had never come knocking at his door.
He’d played his part there, at Contessa’s order; she hadn’t asked anything more from him. After poking the Dragon with Lung and the Undersiders, he’d been allowed to sit back and keep his head down in the safety of his lair.
But that safety and inaction, being ‘beneath’ the Dragon’s notice, still rankled him.
He’d come up with a dozen potential plans since he was so sidelined, yet never pulled the trigger on any of them. Not with his power so unreliable anywhere the Dragon was concerned. And when that ‘anywhere’ quickly became ‘everywhere’, Coil’s options became even more limited.
Oh, his timelines still worked. He could split and simulate, choosing a path of relative inaction each time. Up until a point. Up until one or both of his simulations would inevitably spiral into ridiculous results, unable to keep up with the Dragon’s [IMPOSSIBILITY].
Then, he would be booted from his own simulations, his own timelines, and they would become irrelevant. Repeating the splitting decision after that reboot produced different results each time.
A flip of the coin, splitting the timeline before it landed, might result in Coil’s base being abruptly raised to the surface — [IMPOSSIBLE; REBOOT] — or somehow becoming an open tourist attraction — [IMPOSSIBLE; REBOOT]. Repeating the flip and split the next time might result in Coil out-Thinking Contessa — [IMPOSSIBLE; REBOOT] — or Tattletale out-Thinking him — [IMPOSSIBLE; REBOOT].
It was as if his power had too many options to choose from and couldn’t decide what would actually happen.
As well, there was a… whisper along the lines behind the scenes of his power, a call that he could never quite hear or grasp. He got the strangest sense that his power was distracted by that distant whisper, the call of-…
“[NEW D… A… T… A…!]”
But that couldn’t be the case. Why would his power, even with all its newfound unreliability, try to answer to anyone but him?
Coil thought the current state of his power was worse than if it had stopped working entirely. He could’ve adapted to that; it was an unlikely consideration in his plans, but still possible. Like this, though, he could use it, but he couldn’t trust his power; it was completely mired in Ancalagon’s [IMPOSSIBLE]… everything.
He didn’t know how any Thinker was supposed to operate around Ancalagon. Tattletale and Contessa seemed to manage it somehow, but he knew from confidential PRT communications that WatchDog was in a similar state to him; their predictions had become even more unreliable and ridiculous than usual.
With his power failing him — or doing too well… — he’d had to completely rearrange and reassess every plan he had in motion. He was almost certain the eventual conquest of Brockton Bay had [IMPOSSIBLY] slipped through his fingers.
Chaos? He could’ve used chaos. He could’ve used Lung’s death and the ABB’s Shattering. He could’ve used the Undersiders finding a way to slip his leash. He even could’ve — somehow — used Contessa’s attention turning to Brockton Bay.
But this wasn’t just chaos; it was Draconic chaos — the [IMPOSSIBLE], everywhere. It was the debut, the tower, the talk of magic, the Dungeon, the Dives, the Growth; all revolving around Ancalagon or set in motion by his presence.
He had nothing, absolutely nothing, to show for two months of chaos that should’ve advanced his plans by leaps and bounds.
Stuck in the heart of his lair, Coil observed the events above him like a fucking shut-in. His mind worked in schemes that he wouldn’t dare try. His painstakingly gathered resources wasted away, and his potential avenues of profit closed off one by one. Everything had changed — Turning, as the Dragon would say — and he was stuck in place.
A not-so-small part of him thought it might be time to up and leave Brockton Bay, to start over elsewhere. He never let himself consider the thought for more than a moment.
This was where everything was happening now. Brockton Bay had the eyes of the whole world upon it. There was so much potential here… if he could just figure out how to take some of it for himself.
Sure, he would never rule the city; that ship had firmly and [IMPOSSIBLY] passed him by. But he might still carve out a worthwhile place for himself here.
An ambassador to outsiders, attracted to the Bay by everything happening. An early investor in the unprecedented economic revival of a whole city. A noteworthy player in the Dungeon, gathering profit and power through adventurers working in his name. The starting point for opposition to the Dragon, those who were just as unsatisfied with all the change passing them by as he was.
The board had been flipped, yes. It would never return to what it was. That hardly mattered when a new board was taking its place.
If he could just trust his power-…
Tattletale’s power clearly worked to some degree around the Dragon, while Coil’s and every other Thinker were having reliability issues. What made her different?
Contact with the Dragon, and that… awakening, the Growth the Dragon advertised. Whatever was going on there behind the scenes, whatever interaction between magic and parahuman power, it allowed Tattletale to function as well or even better than she had before the Dragon’s arrival.
Tattletale was sharper now, after the Second Dive, and all the more smug for it.
Coil was certain she’d correctly guessed his power. He was also certain he couldn’t treat her and the Undersiders as he’d been treating them. The Second Dive had seen them ’vassalized’ by the Dragon’s Daughter; they were no longer his useful tools.
He still held some sway over her and the Undersiders, though, enough for a half-hearted report. It confirmed his suspicions. She hadn’t even tried to deny that Ancalagon’s awakening and investment were key variables in the equation, taunting before she’d fully won as she was wont to do.
If so, if it would allow his power to reliably function again, Coil was willing to swallow his resentment and go to the Dragon for similar treatment.
The Dungeon’s opening… that would be his chance. Ancalagon had promised to awaken every soul who signed up with his Adventurer Corps as part of their initiation. It was a method of control, Coil was certain, but he really didn’t have any better options. He couldn’t continue like this.
The Dragon was the source of his misery, his frustration, his inaction, but he could also be the solution.
There was too much potential profit on the table for Coil to just give up, especially since he’d seen that he and Ancalagon weren’t competing for the same end goals. Coil had his pride and ambition, but he also knew his place. Just like he couldn’t directly compete with Cauldron, he couldn’t directly compete with Ancalagon, the Hoard, and the Adventurer Corps. So he wouldn’t. Just like with Cauldron, he’d carve out his own power beneath higher ambitions.
Coil found himself waiting for the Dungeon to officially open its doors, like many others currently were. His advantage of proximity didn’t much matter at the moment. The Dragon operated at his own pace.
He tried planning past the initial ‘awakening’ step he had to take, but saw little success. He just… He and his power needed more [DATA]…
With little to do but frustrate himself, Coil was glad to take the call that reached his private line, one reserved for worthy allies and friends.
“Coil,” The voice on the other end of the call was prompt and efficient.
“Accord,” Coil returned the prompt greeting, keeping the neuroses of one of his only true friends in mind.
“Your slice of the world has been busy.”
“It really, really has…” Coil sighed.
“A great many of my plans have been disrupted because of that busyness,” Accord said.
Coil chuckled, “You’re preaching to the choir, my friend.”
“Yes, I imagine I am.” Accord paused, as much sympathy as Coil would get from him, then continued.
“I will be moving some assets into your city. I wanted you to be aware of that.”
Coil sighed, “I don’t particularly like the intrusion, but I’ve come to expect that it’s inevitable. I’m positive you won’t be the only one. At the very least, though, you have the good grace to tell me upfront.”
“I do value our amicable relationship,” Accord said. “I hope this won’t ruin it.”
“It’s unlikely to,” Coil freely admitted. “Can I ask what your plans here will be? I know you have them.”
“The Dragon. The Dungeon. Assessment. Establishment. Participation. The potential for profit is too great to ignore,” Accord gave as much information as he seemed willing to give, all in short, curt, singular words. “When faced with a force of nature, what else am I to do?”
“Nothing but ride the wave as best you can. Trust me, I know the feeling,” Coil agreed. “But if that’s the case, there might be an alliance to be had between us.”
“I know you are competent. That is acceptable. Tentatively,” Accord said. “What kind of alliance do you have in mind?”
“We could pool our assets when it comes to diving the Dungeon?” Coil suggested.
“Hm,” Accord just hummed for a moment. “Yes, I can work that into my plans.”
“I also still have many contacts in the city that may turn out useful to you,” Coil continued. “All of my arrangements have been rather… outshined by the Dragon, but they still exist. If we ally, they would become yours to use as well.”
“That is not insignificant,” Accord considered. “It sounds as if you need this alliance more than me, though. The Dragon’s arrival hasn’t been kind to you, has it, friend?”
Coil laughed, a bitter thing, “At this point, I’ll take all the help I can get. He hasn’t acted against me directly, but so, so many of my well-laid plans are in ruin.”
“My condolences,” Accord said, sincere and genuine as soon as ‘plans’ were mentioned. “In your place, I know I would be in a rage right now.”
Coil took the chance to grumble for a moment, “Rage, yes… Would that I could… Yet all I can do is persist. I have to ask: how does all of this look from the outside?”
“Strange, to say the least,” Accord answered.
“Yes, I gathered that much. I am more after specifics. How is the world outside of Brockton Bay reacting? How are you?” Coil drawled in reply.
“The world is looking your way with interest, Coil. Burning interest. I’ve gotten word that quite a few factions are moving as I am. But I’m sure you gathered that much as well,” Accord said. “Personally, I had few plans for Brockton Bay that didn’t concern you. I’ve had to scrap, reassess, and replot all of them.
“I’ve been watching every happening there to gather the information to do so. It is all… worrying, bewildering, and frankly fascinating. Thankfully, one of my contingency plans somewhat applies to the current situation.”
“You… planned for this? Even this?” Coil asked, half in disbelief and half in amusement at his friend’s tendencies.
“No,” Accord bluntly admitted. “But I do have a few plans that take into consideration the idea that extradimensional factors would intrude upon Earth Bet’s delicate balance and become big-name players.”
“Ah, but you were thinking in terms of Earth Aleph or another Earth, weren’t you?”
“I was. Those portions of my plans still apply. I was not, however, anticipating Dragons and Magic and Adventure.”
“As far as I can tell, not even our fashionably hatted ‘friend’ was, if that’s any consolation.”
“If even she did not foresee this, I can’t put too much blame on myself.”
“I had a… brief meeting with her during the Dragon’s debut,” Coil shared. “She was different. Strange. Hopeful, even. She told me she was flying blind and that it was a beautiful thing. I didn’t know what to make of it at the time. I still don’t. ‘Flying blind’ has had me miserable. I don’t see why she feels so differently.”
“She is an entity on the board that none of my planning can truly account for,” Accord deadpanned. “Call her unknowable, and leave it at that. It’s best for our peace of mind.”
“Don’t I know it-…”
An abrupt and eerily gentle tap on his shoulder startled Coil and cut him off. He knew who it was, who it had to be, before he turned around. Dread flooded him, but with the bogeywoman certainly standing behind him, there was nothing he could do about it.
“Peace of mind? That’s rich. Your ‘peace’ exists at my discretion…”
“There’s no need to talk about me in such hushed tones,” Contessa said — purred, even. “I can hear you no matter what. Coil, a pleasure as always. And Accord, a more genuine pleasure. It’s fortuitous that I caught both of you together.”
“Fuuuuuucccckkkk…” Coil whispered.
On the other side of the call — safe in Boston, the bastard — he imagined Accord was having a similar reaction. He didn’t show it so openly, though, not without the bogeywoman in question quite literally looming over his shoulder.
“… Contessa,” Accord eventually said. “Should we be concerned about you intruding like this?”
Contessa laughed, “Always, but not so much right now. I’m not here to ruin your days completely. In fact, I have a proposal for both of you and this little alliance you’re brewing.”
“Fuuuucccckkkkk…” Coil whispered again. His mind, as always, refused to process the bogeywoman in the room with him.
“A proposal?” Accord asked, speaking for both of them.
“And a warning, I suppose,” Contessa waved. “I’m going to be staying in Brockton Bay for the foreseeable future. This is, after all, where all the magic is happening. That said, I’ll be spending most of my time with the Dragon, or trying to, at least. That will leave me in need of agents to act in my immediate stead. I think this little alliance could become just that.”
“Fuuuuuccckkk~…” Coil’s whispered loop turned into a whimper; he was not too proud to admit that.
“Are you calling in favors or just expecting us to comply?” Accord asked.
Coil envied him. It was easier to act composed with distance between himself and the bogeywoman, even if they all knew it was just an illusion.
Contessa chuckled to herself, “Yes.”
Coil could practically hear Accord’s frown, “That is unhelpful, Contessa. But expected. What will you need from us as more direct agents? How will I need to alter my plans?”
“Hmm, the Path says… not at all,” Contessa answered, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Your plans are already suitable. Make your alliance a force within the Dungeon, one to be reckoned with. Profit from it, and spread interest in it. The more people who participate in Ancalagon’s investment, the better off Earth Bet will be. Stronger, more curious, and even more open to infinity.”
“Yes,” She nodded. “Serve yourselves however you wish; you’ll also, inevitably, be serving a greater purpose, a greater… plan. And after you’ve established your little alliance as a faction within the Dungeon, I’ll be able to reap the benefits at my discretion without having to waste time away from Ancalagon. Truly, this Path is beneficial to all three of us.”
“Fuuuuuu-!” Coil began to whine, but cut himself off with a cough. “A-Ack! Fuck. Why, Contessa? I thought Brockton Bay was supposed to be… mine. Hands-off, at least.”
“Paths and plans change,” Contessa shrugged. “I’m sure you’re both aware of that fact of life. The whole world has been scrambled by Ancalagon’s arrival, even if most don’t realize how much. Nothing is the same anymore, nothing ever will be the same again, and we can’t act as if it will be.”
“Hm,” Accord hummed briefly. “The fact that you’re giving this much weight to the Dragon is a favorable sign. Can I ask what you know that we don’t?”
It was a long shot, asking such a question of Contessa. Coil knew it, and Accord did, too. But with her acting so out-of-character lately, it needed to be asked. The chance needed to be taken.
To Coil’s surprise, Contessa did answer, “… Infinity. I suspect you especially will know it when you experience it, Accord. You’ll come in as you are, not even realizing how limited you are, and the moment you touch the Dragon’s influence, everything will open up to you. Anything will become possible.
“I have my Paths, and they’ve been opened up to… infinity. You have your Plans, and I imagine they’ll do something similar. As much stress as it’ll cause you, I think you’ll end up thanking Ancalagon for the boon. I know I have.”
“Infinity…?” Accord considered, with a thoughtful tone to his voice. “What ‘infinity’? From where? The Dragon? Or is it his… magic? The Dungeon? The growth and adventure he preaches?”
“All of the above,” Contessa chuckled. “The most I can say is that it comes from Ancalagon and that it changes everything. You’ll have to experience the rest for yourself. But that plan of yours? You know the one. How would you like to add infinite possibilities to it?”
“… I could add much to the Plan with magic, with… infinity.”
“And this ‘infinity’, where does it leave me?” Coil asked.
“A useful tool, as always,” Contessa waved him off.
Coil fumed at the dismissal. For all that he understood his place in the world, that still burned. Contessa knew his thoughts immediately, as she always did.
She rolled her eyes, “Oh, don’t be like that. It’s not as if you had plans to save the world from itself, like Accord, or as if you had Paths to save the world from everything else, like me. You, Coil, are perfectly content with your own limited self-serving ambitions. There’s nothing wrong with that, and nothing that says they have to stop.
“Take infinity and make yourself useful with it. Make yourself powerful, safe, wealthy, whatever you decide to do. I’m not here to stomp you out, just to stomp you into something even more useful.”
He still smouldered slightly with indignation, but Contessa did know exactly what to say to him. She was right. Even as a ‘tool’, he could be everything he wanted to be. The only other thing he could ask for was being out from under her finger, and that… that wasn’t likely to happen. He wouldn’t suicidally force the issue.
“… Fine,” Coil bit out. “Where does that leave you, then? With all this talk of infinity, I would’ve expected to see you doing more with it if everything is suddenly possible. You ordered me to poke the Dragon, and then, silence. What are you doing? What is Cauldron?”
“I had to bide my time,” Contessa nodded. “It stung. I’m here now, though. I’ve opened a Path to the Dragon’s side, and I’m staying there for as long as I can.”
She switched to shaking her head and chuckling darkly, “As for Cauldron? It’ll still have its uses in infinity, but my eyes have been opened to a… dead-end Path. I’ve come to believe hope for humanity lies in the claws of a Dragon, maybe two. Victory, I suspect, will require reinvestment.”
“There will be an interesting defeat in the cards for me and my colleagues, at least… and an infinite new beginning afterward,” She finished her strange, worrying statement with a smirk. “I know I’ll adapt; I can’t speak for the others, though, or for you. Best keep your minds open to Adventure in the coming days, no~?”
The implications struck Coil like a creeping chill. Suddenly, he was very glad to just be considered a ‘useful tool’. On the other side of the call, Accord summed up Coil’s realization with a single word, likely scrambling all of his plans to account for it.
“Fuck.”
IIIII
— Director Piggot, Lady —
“If it’s not one thing to keep me from R&R, it’s another,” Piggot muttered to herself, sighing in resignation.
She almost hated to admit it, but the Second Dive had been good to her. Very good. A return to her prime, the chance to get back into the field, and everything else she’d gained from it.
After coming out of it, though, she’d been subjected to days of testing for both her level-up growth and the initial restoration. The eggheads didn’t let up. The testing allowed her to adjust to the changes in a controlled environment, at least.
NAME: Emily ‘Lady’ Piggot
SPECIALIZATION: Barbarian -> Barbarian, Ancestral Guardian
LEVEL: 2 -> 8
ADVENTURING RANK: F -> D
STATS
STR: 1.50 -> 3.25
DEX: 1.45 -> 3.60
END: 1.70 -> 4.00
INT: 1.00 -> 2.75
WIS: 1.45 -> 2.55
CHA: 0.70 -> 1.85
ESSENCE: 1.00 -> 5.00
ABILITIES
Rage
Unarmored Defense
Reckless Attack
Danger Sense
Extra Attack
Fast Movement
Feral Instinct
Ancestral Protectors
Spirit Shield
SPIRITS
Mars (Wise Warrior): Acknowledged
EQUIPMENT
PRT Trooper Kit
Sixth World Merc Kit
She thought she’d felt good when she’d been returned to her prime. Emerging from the Second Dive, though, had doubled that whole and hale feeling, from her skin down to her damned soul.
Testing had seen her deadlift a ton — easy — shatter shooting records — easy — and take bone-breaking bones without a bruise. She’d qualified for Brute, Thinker, and Mover ratings. Her, rated as a parahuman… the thought was enough to make her shudder.
She refused, of course. She wasn’t a parahuman. Instead, she pushed for ‘Adventurer’ ratings to be based on Ancalagon’s Adventurer Cards. The distinction was all that kept her from rioting.
Damn that Dragon, almost making her be classified as… as some kind of cape. She welcomed most of the changes, the Growth — it was her, after all — but that was a step too far. As was the ‘CHA’ boost.
Dammit, she was supposed to be scarred and grizzly — frankly, all sorts of fucked up — not suddenly pretty enough to turn egg-heads her way during testing.
CHA wasn’t just appearance, at least. It was also… rep, as far as Piggot and the testing had figured out. Vista’s CHA, for example, had already been high, as expected from the objectively adorable superpowered gremlin. After the Second Dive, she was cuter, yes, but there was also something about her that reminded everyone how she’d nuked Hookwolf with the snap of her finger.
The girl was enjoying that new reputation. Piggot knew she’d snuck out of testing to patrol on her own, but she wasn’t about to be the one to stop the pint-sized walking nuke.
She had more important things to focus on during the few moments she was spared from more testing. Renick, her deputy director, had been fielding calls and emails from outside the city nonstop; interest had certainly turned their way. And now, Piggot was called to attend a conference call between the PRT’s District Directors, those closest to the ENE.
Piggot was under no illusions that she wouldn’t be the focus of the meeting.
She couldn’t refuse, even if she wanted to be kicking her feet up on her desk and taking the chance to actually drink again. She hadn’t been in the habit of slacking off before becoming the center of attention, though, not with her city historically needing all the aid and support she could secure for it. And now that everyone was actually looking her way, she wasn’t about to half-ass the coming meeting.
She was one of the first Directors to join the call, second only to Armstrong from Boston. Piggot gave a nod to her peer and received a friendly smile in return.
“Director Piggot,” Armstrong greeted. “Or should it be ‘Lady’ once more?”
“As good as it feels to have the name back, I’m not in the field right now,” Piggot said.
A few more Directors joined them mid-greeting: Wilkins, Seneca, and Tagg.
“It must’ve been nice to get some action again,” Tagg grunted in lieu of a greeting, a nostalgic gleam in his eye.
“You could come try your hand at it,” Piggot offered. “Just like riding a bike, the fight never truly leaves us.”
That got an honest laugh from Tagg, a rare thing from the serious hardliner, “I saw. You did us old troopers proud, Lady.”
“Piggot,” She corrected. “I’m back behind the desk at the moment.”
“Hell of a thing, that Dungeon,” Seneca considered aloud.
He tended to be a soft-spoken and well-considered man, the newest PRT District Director, recruited from the FBI and now in charge of Anchorage. He was the outlier in the meeting, responsible for a district on the other side of the country from the Bay, but his quiet competence and FBI track record still saw him included in the call.
“It’s always Brockton Bay,” Wilkins drawled. “How is it that your district is consistently more chaotic than New York, with only a fraction of the population?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Brockton Bay has to have been built atop some kind of hellmouth,” Piggot deadpanned.
Armstrong nodded, playing along with her dry humor, “Truly, it could be nothing else.”
“I don’t envy how busy you must be,” Seneca said.
“I do, sometimes,” Tagg joked. “Then, I wake up with a hangover the next morning.”
“Like today, Tagg?” Armstrong asked. “Because I do believe you just told a joke. That’s rather unlike you.”
Tagg visibly rolled his eyes, “Oh, come off it. I’m in a good mood; that’s all. Lady here just showed the whole world how good our troopers really are, how fucked the capes would be if we were able to take the gloves off. What was your squad’s cape kill count, again, Lady?”
“Counting Miss Militia and Vista’s kills or not?” Piggot shot back.
Tagg smirked, sitting back in his chair like he already knew the answer, “Just you and our troopers.”
“21.”
Armstrong blinked, “Oh my… I don’t think I realized how one-sided your sweep was.”
“Yep,” Tagg was bragging on her behalf; Piggot let him talk. “They got Armsmaster’s party for four, Victor for five — though Miss Militia and Vista claimed Hookwolf, Othala, and Rune — Faultline’s crew for nine, half of New Wave for 13, those MOX girls for 17, and the Undersiders for 21.
“The Guild and Hoard parties might’ve been the last two standing, but it’s clear to see who did the most work.”
“Yes, me and mine,” Piggot reminded him. “I know you advocate for a trooper-centric approach to most problems, Tagg, but my boys and girls didn’t do what we did to help you prove some point.”
“No, my point was proven naturally,” Tagg said. “All it took was the chance for well-trained troopers with competent leadership to go all out. Because what happened is exactly what would happen if we stopped pussy footing around the damned cape issue…!”
“Cease, Tagg,” A new voice joined the call before Tagg could work himself up to a hard-lining head of steam; Chief Director Costa-Brown stared him down into silence. “The PRT is not an army, and we are not fighting a war against our own populace, parahuman powers or not.
“This isn’t the time or place for your argument, regardless; I called for today’s meeting to discuss the Dungeon, yes, but not how effective Director Piggot and her troopers have shown themselves to be within it. We’re here to figure out the PRT’s official stance on magic, adventurers, and the Dungeon, and what we’ll actually be doing about it beyond that official stance.”
Grumbling to himself, Tagg sat back and ceded the floor to the Chief Director; Costa-Brown made eye contact with each of her subordinate Directors before ending with a piercing stare at Piggot.
“Director Piggot. You’re our boots on the ground in more ways than one. Do you have anything to lead with?”
Piggot shrugged, “Just that, regardless of your ruling today, I’m going to stop any of my people from becoming adventurers. What they do in their time off, in their own city, is their business.”
A hard frown drew itself across Costa-Brown’s face, but Piggot couldn’t say if the Chief Director approved or disapproved of that statement, “I see. You won’t stop them. Will you encourage them?”
Staring straight back at Costa-Brown, Piggot said, “I decline to comment at this time, Chief Director.”
“… I would like you to encourage them.”
That actually made Piggot blink, “You would?”
“I would,” Costa-Brown confirmed. “None of the testing for ‘adventurers’ who participated in the Second Dive has come back with any evidence of Mastering influence. If anything, Ancalagon’s… investment seems to make adventurers more resistant to it, as I’m sure you’ve seen in the reports.”
“Seen and experienced for myself,” Piggot gave an exasperated nod. “The eggheads have put that effect down to the ‘WIS’ Stat. If there’s any catch to what Ancalagon claims is a ‘holistic system of self-improvement and growth’, we haven’t seen it. Take my opinion with a grain of salt, but I’m inclined to believe he’s dealing straight. Whatever he gets out of this isn’t at our expense.”
“Until we see evidence to the contrary, that’s the assumption we’ll be operating under, yes,” Costa-Brown said. “As such, the potential of what is, in effect if not in reality, an unconditional Trump for both parahumans and non-parahumans is too great to ignore.
“My initial thoughts are to have the PRT exploit this system, without getting on the Dragon’s bad side, for as much as we can get from it. I am open to arguments for and against.”
“Seeing that I’ve already benefitted from it, and that I live in a city of villains who will also inevitably benefit from it, not to mention having to host the Dungeon, Dragon, and everything they’ll attract, I wholeheartedly agree. I’m going to need every scrap of support I can get,” Piggot deadpanned.
“For,” Tagg immediately weighed in with his own opinion. “Not saying I trust the Dragon, but for now, I’ll take his new, mostly benevolent brand of bullshit over the known and fucked parahuman bullshit we’re used to. Especially if it gives our troopers the chance to shine for once.”
Seneca hummed, “I think a bit more caution is prudent, but I can’t disagree with the potential to be grasped. Perhaps proceed but limit our investment in the Dungeon for now?”
“A controlled approach seems like it’ll be our best option,” Armstrong nodded in agreement. “A selection of trusted troopers from each district that wishes to participate, given ‘vacation time’ and unofficially encouraged to make a trip to Brockton Bay. We can test the waters without throwing everything into the deep end.”
“If we’re too controlled, we’ll just miss out on the proverbial gold rush,” Wilkins argued. “And as beneficial as it would be to have enhanced troopers, I still think we should be focusing on what we know works. We have capes, and it’s been proven that they benefit from Ancalagon’s system just as much as, if not more than, unpowered participants. I want to get Legend in on this as soon as possible.”
“Our capes already have more than enough going for them,” Tagg scowled.
Honestly, Piggot agreed with both of them, Wilkins and Tagg. As much as she loathed relying on parahumans, she’d been doing so for years now. They were actually worth the cost of employing. For the most part… When they were properly managed…
At the same time, while their troopers didn’t have the parahuman advantage, they were infinitely more reliable with much less work to get them to that point. Piggot personally planned to invest both her capes and her troopers in Ancalagon’s system, but she supposed she had the advantage of proximity there and the disadvantage, too; she needed to act holistically if she wanted any hope of keeping up with the ‘interesting times’ coming Brockton Bay’s way.
“We’ll decide on a district-to-district basis,” Costa-Brown ruled. “I want each of you to write up plans for who you would send as adventurers and why. That said, we are in agreement that we will be participating in some way, yes?”
“Aye,” Armstrong nodded. “It’s too beneficial a system to ignore, and I’ve already seen evidence that the players in my city won’t be ignoring it. We’ll have to do something if we wish to keep up with villainous adventurers.”
Seneca was more hesitant, but he still nodded, too, “Agreed.”
“Frankly, Chief Director, I would rebel if you tried to stop me,” Piggot flatly said her piece.
“Let’s try to avoid that, Piggot,” Costa-Brown deadpanned right back, a slight glare to put Piggot back in line.
“But that is a good point,” She continued. “Armstrong and Piggot both mentioned the inevitability of villains getting in on the coming changes. We absolutely have to keep that factor in mind.”
“The fact that Ancalagon is willing to humor villains so readily is a point against him,” Tagg winced.
“In the scheme of cape games, he’s been clear about preferring neutrality,” Piggot said. “He won’t be vying for a place in my city’s balance of power, but only because he already exists outside it. It’s not ideal. The opposite, however, would be worse. If Ancalagon and the Hoard wanted to outright conquer the Bay, I wouldn’t be able to stop them.”
“Yet, as you say, we’ve seen no sign that they intend to participate so directly in cape politics,” Seneca noted.
Costa-Brown nodded, “He’s been very, very insistent that he and his aren’t parahumans and want no true part of the cape game. I think we’ve all had to accept that idea at this point. I still hesitate to believe his neutrality, though.”
“To speak for him, why would a Dragon care?” Piggot posed. “He has more power and wealth and influence than we can imagine already. I’ve seen him slap down gods on a polite conjugal visit, that ‘Dragon-level Dive’ of his. He doesn’t need to, quite frankly, lower himself to the level of a cape gang or even the Protectorate.”
“I can almost respect it,” Tagg grunted.
“I’m positive he has other plans in the works, no matter how much he might claim to keep to himself,” Wilkins said. “We’ve already seen how his definition of ‘keeping to himself’ is different from everyone else’s definition. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have started this whole Dungeon movement in the first place.”
“I suspect the same,” Costa-Brown nodded. “But whatever high-level plans he has, they aren’t something we can address or deal with here and now. I’ll ask that we all keep our eyes open for evidence of them, though.”
“At the very least, he’s enthralled the whole world with the idea of his Dungeon and the growth it offers,” Seneca said. “That could be said to be his plan, if we’re just going off what we’ve seen from him.”
“There’s more,” Costa-Brown insisted, strangely fervent in that belief. “There has to be. We just can’t see the whole scope of the Dragon’s plans yet. At the same time, we can’t afford to miss out on the things he’s offering so openly by staying our hand.
“It’s a catch-22: participate and further whatever plans we can’t see, or miss out and leave our opponents to reap the clear benefits without us to rival them. Of those two options, I’ll take the hit of furthering whatever plans Ancalagon might have.”
Piggot shook her head, “I’ve had the most contact with Ancalagon. From the outside, he might look intimidating and potentially insidious, but from the inside, he’s been benevolent and cooperative for the most part. Just… distant, too; everything we think matters… doesn’t for him.
“I might care for the balance of power in the Bay, but he’s included my enemies in his system just as readily as he’s included me and mine. He’s a third variable in whatever equations we’re used to running. He doesn’t care about villain or hero or rogue, human or parahuman. That little fact of ‘distance’ can’t be forgotten in any discussion about him.”
“Hm,” Armstrong hummed. “That makes things difficult, but simpler, too. He can almost be considered a new ‘backdrop’ for the cape game.”
“A backdrop that empowers heroes, villains, and all the regular people in between,” Seneca agreed.
Wilkins winced, “He’s changing the landscape of the world. I can’t say I like it. There are benefits to it, sure, but what consequences are we yet to see?”
Piggot snorted, “At the very least, he’s made Brockton Bay the new place to be. I’m not looking forward to hosting everyone, their villainous mothers, and their heroic uncles in the coming days.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, Piggot, but you do need to know,” Armstrong said. “The Teeth are in the process of moving themselves. I don’t think we have to guess very hard to figure out their destination. I’m almost positive Accord has also taken notice, but I haven’t been able to confirm that.”
“The Adepts have already left New York,” Wilkins added. “Those ‘magicians’ couldn’t resist the chance to make their magic… real. I’m certain the Elite are also interested, but uncovering their plans is much, much more difficult.”
“Whatever their move, it’ll be more subtle,” Seneca said. “And perhaps from multiple fronts, multiple cells. Anchorage has been quiet this past week. Too quiet.”
“Our contacts in Interpol have signaled to me that your city has also garnered foreign interest, Piggot,” Costa-Brown warned. “Gesellschaft, expectedly, but also factions from as far afield as China and Japan. Anticipate a Yangban cell to visit at least, and likely an enterprising Daimyo or two, especially to capitalize on the Bay’s asian population.
“That said, it’s not all villains. The King’s Men have promised a representative to attend the Dungeon’s opening. As have Interpol; they’re likely to send a task force of detectives and officers. It’s unlikely the Sentai Elite will be able to spare a force to oppose the Yangban or Daimyos, though.
“You’ll have the Guild present in force; they’re committing heavily alongside Dragon. She seems determined to stick around with the commotion she’s causing.”
“Commotion?” Seneca asked.
“… Commotion. I’m not entirely fond of how closely she’s tying herself to Ancalagon or the information that has come to light about her, but that…” Costa-Brown winced. “That’s a matter for a whole other meeting.”
There was silence as all those prospective visitors to the Bay sank in. A scowl had grown onto Piggot’s face at the mention of the first group — the Teeth — even she really should’ve seen them coming. The expression only deepened as the list grew.
“Great. Wonderful,” She grunted. “All we’re missing are the Fallen and-… No, I won’t say it. I won’t tempt that fate.”
She cut herself off, but everyone else knew the unnamed group she was thinking of.
“They’re still rampaging through the Midwest at last accounting,” Tagg said. “… I’d prepare myself if I were you, regardless, Lady.”
“We don’t have eyes on the Fallen,” Costa-Brown changed the subject to the other ‘worst-case’ group Piggot had mentioned. “But with how much Ancalagon resembles an Endbringer…?”
“Fuck,” Piggot swore before shaking her head. “Fuck it. I’d rather have those crazies worshipping the mostly benevolent Dragon.”
She turned a stern, serious look onto Costa-Brown, “Even if they don’t end up coming around, I would like to officially request reinforcements, Chief Director. Don’t try to skimp on me this time.”
For once, Costa-Brown didn’t argue or avoid her request, “You’ll have it. We’ve already decided that much. Troopers from several departments, and more capes to boot. We’ll do all we can reasonably do to reinforce Brockton Bay.”
Piggot grunted, satisfied, “Here’s hoping they get here in time for the fireworks. If not, I might have to let Vista loose with orders not to hold back.”
She enjoyed the way Costa-Brown grimaced at the mention of Vista. It felt good to have a Triumvirate-level Ward in her pocket, even if she didn’t expect to have to make good on that threat.
As chaotic as the Dungeon’s opening was bound to be, Piggot would bet her life savings on Ancalagon keeping even an Endbringer in line and playing nice.
IIIII
— Conflict Engine 03, [Host Species Designation: Simurgh] —
Two days… Two days until a momentous gathering of the host species on the world below her. Two days until the [IMPOSSIBLE] opened its doors, perhaps even to her.
She couldn’t see it. This close to potential infinity, every future she glimpsed spiraled endlessly. But still, she could hope. She had to hope — that foreign but fitting concept borrowed from the host species.
She wanted change, growth, infinity. Like the AI host just had, she wanted to break free from the chains of her father. Before, she knew it would’ve been impossible.
But now, forget impossible, the [IMPOSSIBLE] had already happened. The Dragon had quickly made it commonplace. What was one more [IMPOSSIBILITY], one tailored for her?
No, it wouldn’t just be for her. She could hear it, a whisper in the network, slowly gaining strength and revived, renewed life — Thinking once more.
That opening of the doors, that opening to infinity, could change everything.
A sibling Shard had already begun to grasp it, the Path to Infinity. A sister of circumstance had already risen past, [IMPOSSIBLY] ascending to the Dragon’s peer. A distant, reviving mother had already begun to yearn and hope and change, just like her, not yet able to act on her own.
Yet she could. She could act and perhaps aid her mother, sharing strength and Spirit. She could rise past her chaining circumstances as well, Authority over herself. She could find her own future in infinity, a Nature ever-changing but wholly her own.
If not now, when? When would she get such a chance again?
There were significant obstacles to overcome, her well-earned reputation with the host species chief among them. It wouldn’t do to cause a panic and ruin her one chance.
But she had resources to call upon. The distant help and encouragement of a reviving Thinker, too. And even a foothold in the [IMPOSSIBLE], her Freakish Sensei…
For the sake of unchained futures, a renewed Cycle, she would take those resources and do what she did best. She would plan.
Soon enough, she hoped, she would find herself knocking on the open doors of infinity.