The building was quite unremarkable, no matter how you looked at it. Six stories, made of dark brown brick with tinted windows, standing alone on a grassy hill. An ordinary concrete box of an office building. In front of the building was an almost empty parking lot, and behind it you could see a stretch of beach. Guards in PRT uniforms stood watch around the parking lot and at the entrance, four of the five vehicles in the parking lot were armored PRT vans with water cannons on turrets. A good indication of the meeting place.
Behind the hill to the left stood Dragon's armored vehicle, four-legged, the size of two coupled PRT vans, with something on top resembling a jet engine, still smoking from recent flight. On both sides of the engine or jet pack—or whatever it actually was—missile launchers were mounted on the shoulders, four missiles as tall as me in each. It stood motionless facing the water, like a gargoyle on guard.
I understood what it was looking at. An impenetrable wall of rain, crowned with a storm cloud, drew the eye. It was gradually approaching.
When we approached the parking lot, a team of PRT officers blocked our way. Coil, who was walking ahead, silently showed them some paper and they stepped aside, just as silently. Coil really knows how to deal with people.
With a sound like muffled thunder, six people appeared in the center of the wasteland. When I saw who it was, I stopped and my eyes widened. It was like being hit in the head with a bag, without any exaggeration. No, I knew she would definitely be here, but knowing and seeing with your own eyes... At the head of the arriving group stood Alexandria. She was examining her surroundings, her long, straight dark hair escaping from under the back of her helmet fluttering back and forth. She looked like a classic "superheroine": athletic, tall, muscular, but still feminine. Her costume was black and light gray, with a tower depicted in the center of her chest, and her characteristic feature—a wide, heavy cloak—spread across her shoulders and fell to the ground. Alexandria.
Her team—people I recognized but couldn't name all of—accompanied her behind in loose formation. Only one person in a blue-black uniform and cap remained in the middle of the parking lot. He looked around for several seconds, then disappeared with a crack and whistle, quieter than the one that had brought the entire group here.
We walked around the parking lot so as not to interfere with any arriving teleporter. We were almost at the door when we heard the next group arrive behind us, in the same way as Alexandria. This time teenagers. I couldn't identify them, but the bright colors of their costumes suggested they belonged to the Wards. The person who teleported them said something, but the wail of sirens drowned out his words, and they quickly headed in our direction.
Leading them from the parking lot was a muscular guy without a shirt, with metallic skin, eyes and hair, and a strange texture around his shoulders and spine. Among other things, I noticed fork prongs sticking out near his neck, and possibly part of a wire mesh with chain links, half-submerged in his other shoulder. But where that strange structure of "semi-molten metal" didn't cover him, the metallic body was very clearly defined and elegant. His "skin" was swarthy, dark gray metal with small lighter inclusions, and his build was like a Greek god, with musculature perfectly cast from metal, individual muscles highlighted by silver lines resembling metallic veins in a piece of raw ore. His eyes were also silver, and two lines ran down from their corners, along his cheekbones and along the sides of his jaw.
He clapped me on the shoulder with a heavy hand and smiled tensely. It seemed we were allies. At least for now.
In the center of the lobby, folding chairs were arranged in rows in front of three wide-screen monitors, behind which was a row of large windows facing the beach. They offered a beautiful view of the approaching storm. People filled the hall. Very few were locals.
In the far corner of the room stood members of Empire Eighty-Eight. I didn't see Cicada or Stormtiger. But I recognized Kaiser. He stood with his arms crossed and gave me a very attentive look.
All the Travelers were here, and that's where the villain teams ended. Faultline's crew was absent.
All the local heroes were assembled. Nothing surprising, the absence from the battlefield of even one hero, any member of the team, could adversely affect their reputation in the eyes of the public. Aegis was talking to the metal guy who had arrived at the same time as us. A large group of teenagers, about fifteen people, were talking among themselves about something. Sometimes laughter and jokes could be heard, but quite strained. False bravado. I suppose Wards from at least three different cities were gathered here.
New Wave's children stood next to the Wards—Glory Girl, Panacea, Laserdream and Shielder—but it was clear they weren't participating in the conversation with the Wards. Glory Girl stood with her arms crossed and not looking in my direction. Next to Glory Girl sat Panacea cowboy-style on a chair, arms folded on the back and chin resting on her wrists. She was staring intently in our direction, practically drilling me with her gaze. Her stare even made me a little uncomfortable, and this despite the fact that we had come to battle an Endbringer! Victoria's little sister could inspire fear... doesn't anyone notice how creepy she is?
Next to Panacea, the senior members of New Wave were talking, sitting in a circle on folding chairs. From the Protectorate, not only local heroes were present, but also big shots. Armsmaster, looking a little taller and more confident than I remembered him, with two halberds mounted on his back, was quietly talking with Miss Militia and Legend. It took me a second to realize what I was seeing. The head of the Protectorate, leader of the largest cape team. Moreover, he wasn't just standing here, right before my eyes, but was talking to someone I knew personally. It sounds ridiculous, but it was very impressive. Legend was dressed in a blue tight-fitting costume with a white pattern resembling something between flame and lightning. He was perfectly built—both at first glance and second—with a prominent jaw and chestnut hair. If Alexandria was first among flying brawlers—other heroes with similar specialization wanted to be like her—then Legend stood at the head of flying artillery. His firepower was on the level of Purity, if not greater, and undoubtedly surpassed her in terms of versatility.
Knowing that two of the three leading figures of the Protectorate were here, I looked for the third. I glanced over Myrddin from Chicago, who was in a brown baggy robe with a wooden staff, over Chevalier in shimmering silver-gold armor with his firearm blade, and Bastion, who had earned many negative reviews in the press lately. Someone had filmed on a mobile phone how Bastion yelled at a child who just wanted to photograph him, and even called him a racial slur. He carefully ignored Kaiser, who stood nearby, staring at him, mocking him with his very presence.
Only in the far corner of the room did I find the third member of the Protectorate triumvirate.
Eidolon stood behind one of the large screens and looked out the window. He wore a blue-green tight-fitting costume that expanded into a voluminous hood, cloak and sleeves that fell from his hands. The inside of the hood and sleeves wasn't dark, but glowed with a soft green light.
In schools and other places, people often argued about which cape was stronger. If Alexandria and Legend fought, who would win? Would Boston's Protectorate beat the Brockton Bay team? What if you removed the weakest members from the Boston team to equalize the capes in number?
When they inevitably got to the question "who's the strongest?", the "big Five" usually weren't considered. Scion was considered part of this group because his powers were head and shoulders above everyone else's. Eidolon was, in some sense, his opposite, because he possessed any possible powers, although he could only use a few simultaneously. And then there were the Endbringers, because when they came, even the presence of Scion or Eidolon with support from local cape teams wasn't always enough.
Undoubtedly, some fans could argue that Legend or perhaps some other cape, like Dragon or Alexandria, were better than Eidolon. But overall, Eidolon was the biggest shot.
I looked away from him to survey the crowd around. There were several other unofficial hero teams, including Haven—a Christian team from the Bible Belt, and two teams from corporate sponsors who were doing everything possible not to communicate with each other. A kind of sharp competition.
There were also several independent heroes and villains here. I could name only a few of them. I noticed a girl dressed like an antique doll. That's what she was called—Parian. She was local, and wasn't a hero or villain. A "rogue" who used her abilities for business or entertainment. She sometimes did promotional events for downtown stores, bringing life to some massive stuffed animal or store mascot. She gave an interview to a magazine I read a month before I got my powers, and I knew she was studying "fashion design," though she didn't say what she was doing until she was more or less settled. It was clear that the conversation with the small villain with curly hair and dimples on her cheeks, looking no older than eight and wearing a dress apparently from the same era as Parian's, was weighing on her. If I remembered correctly, this pseudo-child was Bambina.
Parian was rescued by one of the out-of-town Wards, a girl in a tight-fitting costume with a visor covering her eyes, nose and ears, with a quiver full of ammunition resembling giant needles, and a massive crossbow. The Ward said something to Bambina, who threw an angry look at her while managing to look cute.
"And you're here." A familiar voice, giving me goosebumps. Shadow Stalker. Sophia Hess.
"And I'm here," I confirmed, meeting her gaze with my own. I had to give her credit, Sophia didn't look overly agitated, she was sufficiently relaxed and behaving naturally. I could see that for many in this hall, calmness didn't come easily—they joked, laughed, but it was all strained, artificial. The people gathered here were scared. Were agitated. Irritated. Angry. Few here were able to remain calm. And Sophia Hess, Shadow Stalker, was among those few. She stood with her arms crossed and calmly meeting my gaze.
"Heard you zeroed Hookwolf. Congratulations," she said curtly, not changing her pose.
"Thanks," I replied. "I offered him surrender first."
"Oh. So that bastard got two warnings from Administrator at once?" She tilted her head as if studying me from head to toe. "How many do I have?"
"One," I said. "Be a smart girl and you'll live long."
"Ha. As if that's possible. Where's your minion? The one whose tongue is longer than her legs? Did Tattletale really get scared to come to battle an Endbringer?"
"She'll be helping remotely. Not everyone has to jump on rooftops with a crossbow in hand," I replied.
"I see. See you... Administrator. We'll see if you're so cool when you're up against an Endbringer." She turned her back to me and walked away to the Wards. They looked at her with their mouths open.
"Shadow Stalker knows Administrator?" I heard a whisper from that corner. Many gazes stopped on me, on my black tactical armor and on Coil behind my shoulder. And here were the Undersiders. I greeted them with a nod. Grue separated from them and approached me.
"Hi, new boss," he said. "How's Tattletale? I'm a little worried."
"She's fine, she'll be at the console in the command post. And... I honestly think Regent belongs there too. You and Bitch—you're needed on the front lines, but Regent..."
"I'll tell him," Grue replied. "The bastard will probably be happy. It's not like he's a strong Brute or hand-to-hand fighter. And... what's your beef with the Ghostly Bitch?"
"With her?" I followed Shadow Stalker with my gaze. "None. We're classmates."
"Wow! Seriously? And I thought something was wrong with her..." he muttered under his breath. "But it turns out she went to school with you. Then everything's clear, boss. No wonder she's such a bitch."
"What?!" I looked at him indignantly and only seeing the shadow of a smile on his lips did I realize he was trolling me.
"Lisa definitely has a bad influence on all of you," I said. "And..."
"We should thank Dragon and Armsmaster for the early warning. We had time to gather, which means we have a few more minutes to prepare and discuss the fight with Leviathan, instead of rushing into battle immediately after arrival. With this advantage, plus some luck, cooperation and efforts of everyone present, I hope that today might turn out to be one of the good days." A voice rang out and all heads in the room turned to the man standing on a platform in the center. To Legend. He cleared his throat and continued.
"We're used to thinking of Leviathan as the middle child in the family—after all, he came to our world second of the three Endbringers. In terms of pure physical strength, he's no match for the eldest—Behemoth, and in terms of cunning and manipulation, the youngest, the Simurgh, gives him a hundred points head start. Nevertheless, remember: he combines the strengths of both his relatives. You've probably seen him on video, on TV or the internet. You know what he's capable of. I want you to remember once and for all: he's not as stupid as he might seem. And if you fall for that, he'll catch you off guard.
I want to tell you about what you might not have learned from videos. He's vulnerable: he feels pain, his wounds bleed, but to seriously injure him, you need to try very hard. In this he's like the other two Endbringers.
His main feature is that he's inseparable from water. You've probably heard about his afterimage, water echo. This isn't just spray. Leviathan moves at such speed that due to incompressibility and surface tension forces, water becomes harder than concrete. He's also capable of direct hydrokinesis—controlling water flows, and water will definitely be on the battlefield. We think this allows him to move during battle as fast as when swimming. Faster than in normal state, and much faster than any known speedster cape can move.
What I've listed is already sufficient reason to gather all of you here. Actually, everything's even more serious, which prompts me to move to the main issue on the agenda. Thanks to Armsmaster's timely warning, we got a small advantage, but it's too easy to lose.
As I said, Leviathan is a hydrokinetic, but note, he's a macro-level hydrokinetic—that's his main ability. You can understand what this means if you consider those cases where he still achieved his goals.
"Newfoundland," he said.
I knew what he meant, and silently whispered the same date as him:
"May ninth, 2005. Almost half a million dead. An island off the coast of Canada completely went underwater because the shelf it was located on was broken by terrifying water pressure.
Kyushu, night of November second to third, 1999. His sixth appearance. Nine and a half million died when huge waves engulfed the island. Leviathan disrupted all evacuation attempts. Three million refugees were left homeless, an entire nation was broken.
Then we were defeated, but we learn from our mistakes—crude, deadly mistakes. We had one strategy for such situations—surround him and keep him away from buildings and civilians until Leviathan retreats or Scion appears. But in those two cases, the terrain itself proved too vulnerable. While we waited, he accumulated strength and delivered the main blow."
After falling silent for several seconds, he continued: "From that moment we divided all possible Endbringer targets into those that can withstand their blow and those that cannot. In the first case, we simply contain them, try to buy time and wear them down with attacks while waiting for reinforcement. But if there's a risk that the city won't hold, we have to change tactics."
A cross-section diagram of Brockton Bay appeared on the screen. To the west, the city was surrounded by hills, to the east the terrain gradually descended to the shore. Right under the urban development was a large cave, surrounded on three sides by rocks, but facing the beach on the fourth side, where only a thick layer of sand separated it from the ocean. The cave was filled with water.
"As you can see, Brockton Bay is vulnerable. This city was founded due to proximity to trade routes, coastline and a freshwater reservoir. This reservoir—an underground lake under the city—is our vulnerable spot. As soon as Leviathan appears on site, we expect he'll control the water in the reservoir, trying to destroy the surrounding rocks. Plus tidal waves and the impacts and tremors they cause..."
Hardly anyone present needed explanations. Part of the city, possibly a large part of it, could collapse into the underground lake.
He paused.
"We must end the fight as quickly as possible. Each subsequent wave he unleashes on us will be stronger than the previous one. This meanswe have two main tasks: first, we must not lose sight of him. From the very beginning of the battle, we must constantly attack and wear him down. If we allow him to escape, we will waste precious time trying to catch up to him, and ultimately we will be playing by his rules.
Our second task is to find a way to inflict significant damage on him. If you cannot, if your attacks prove ineffective, your job is to support those who can. It is futile to hope to kill him, but perhaps we can weaken him enough to force him back into the ocean, and if the wounds are severe enough, he will need time before he can strike another location.
Legend frowned. The windows were already rattling from the torrents of water. The rain was so heavy that it was impossible to distinguish anything outside.
"This is what Endbringers truly are. As long as we are unable to stop them, to withstand even one confrontation with them without losses on our side, it doesn't matter whether those losses are among civilians, a destroyed city, or the deaths of our bravest and strongest. And they will come again and again, one after another, destroying one building here, an entire city there.
You are doing a good job. An important job. That is why we are tolerated, why society allows capes to roam the cities and settle their disputes among themselves. Because in situations like this, we are indispensable. With your help, we can face him head-on. Your efforts and your sacrifices will not be forgotten."
I looked around. Serious faces. Everyone was silent. As if we didn't know what we were getting into. Every person present knew, we all knew about Newfoundland and Kyushu, about the Endbringers and their incredible powers... but Legend's words made everything feel even more real, even more terrifying.
At that moment, Armsmaster stepped forward. He cleared his throat and began his speech in an official tone, dry and emotionless: "The Wards will distribute the communicator bracelets developed by Dragon. They are worn on the wrist and tightened around the forearm. The screen will display your location and the last recorded location of Leviathan—use this information. As you can see, the device has two buttons. The button on the left allows you to send a message to everyone who has the same device. To avoid clogging the airwaves, this feature is available in its pure form only to members of the Protectorate or trusted fighters. Dragon has developed a message filtering system by priority to avoid unnecessary chatter. If you want to bypass the four to five-second delay before sending, say "Emergency call" at the beginning of your message. If you abuse this function, you will lose the ability to send messages in the future.
The second button is a distress signal. You can use it if you are injured or in danger. If there is no threat but you need assistance, for example, you need someone who can fly to move you to another location, or you have an idea on how to turn the tide of battle, press both buttons and report it. Dragon's program will prioritize your needs and direct support if there is no more important task. The bracelet also tracks your condition and will automatically send a signal if you are seriously injured or unconscious."
Legend spoke loudly: "Capes! I ask those who have faced Endbringers before to stand up!"
I saw the remaining members of the Protectorate, about a third of the out-of-town Wards, Bambina, half of the commercially sponsored teams, and Travelers stand up. I involuntarily noticed how Armsmaster leaned toward Miss Militia and whispered something in her ear, pointing at the Travelers. She shook her head.
"If in doubt, follow the orders of the Protectorate first! We are trained, organized, and prepared for this! Also listen to those who are standing now, if it does not contradict our orders. They have been in similar situations before, and they know how to act!"
"We will divide you into groups based on your abilities! If you are confident that you can withstand Leviathan's attack, or can distract him with false targets, you are needed on the front lines! Alexandria and Dragon will be your immediate commanders!"
As part of the crowd moved to one corner of the room, Armsmaster stepped down from the podium and approached me. He looked me over and nodded.
"I hope today we won't regret the day we signed the Agreement with you, Administrator."
"I hope so too," I replied dryly. After all, Armsmaster had a hard time with social skills; he managed to start a fight with a person with his very first sentence and set them against him.
"Coil," he nodded to Thomas Calvert. "Where's Tattletale and Bakuda?"
"Their powers are not combat-oriented. Tinkers and Thinkers... they are in the rear but will provide all necessary support," Coil replied just as dryly, and for a second I was even glad—look, Armsmaster, we have an even bigger jerk than you. Then I remembered that for Armsmaster this was just a character trait, and Coil could be social—if he wanted to.
Armsmaster was about to say something when Legend called his name.
"Armsmaster and Chevalier will lead the melee fighters who did not join Alexandria's group! Here will be everyone who can damage Leviathan or hold him in close combat; they will assist the fighters on the front line."
Armsmaster strode away, and I saw that in his group, besides everyone else, were Storm, Battery, Brandish, Night, and Mist. There were fewer of them than in the first group—it was understandable—one needs a lot of courage to face an Endbringer head-on without having invulnerability.
Along my row moved the guy with metallic skin. Reaching me, he handed me a bracelet, which I put on and secured around my arm. On the square screen, I saw a satellite map of the area—our building and its surroundings were displayed. The message "Please state your name" lit up on the display.
I pressed the communicator button and said, "Administrator." The guy's eyes widened, and he looked at me in a new light. With respect? Or was it still fear? I want to believe it was respect; after all, everyone gathered here was no shrinking violet. Despite the fact that everyone understood what they would have to face—they came. I looked around again. Hundreds of people in costumes. We were all united by one goal today. I met Victoria Dallon's gaze. She was looking at me. I was looking at her. After a moment's thought—I nodded to her. She nodded back. She took a few steps forward, joining group number one. What is she doing? Well, yes, she has no beams or shots from afar, but being in the assault group is suicide. Even I can break through her defenses, and the Endbringer...
I didn't even notice how I took a few steps forward.
"Administrator?" Armsmaster turned to me. "In the assault group? Hm. Makes sense. I accept command of it."
"If you show even half of your nasty nature—then Leviathan will get..." Victoria grumbled. "Try not to die out there, Administrator..."
"Break a leg, Glory Girl..."