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ππ¦π: πππ‘π₯. ππ, ππππ / / πππ βπππ₯πππ π / / βπ π π πΉπ»πππ / / ~ππππ
The Pentagon's basement floors were as confusing to navigate as its aboveground counterparts, but Vincent had been living in the facility ever since the United States' government bartered his citizenship from Vietnam in exchange for providing the weaker country military aid during the opening years of the Slumber.
He had already frequented the US prior to that, but never forced to remain under US military rule until 2011. For all his fame and power, it was staggering how little clout he truly had in the government. Even now he was only consulted for matters directly pertaining to subnaturals or Dreamcatcher's monsters. As a teenager, he had wanted to rebel against the established norms, taking up inspiration from old tales of vigilantes and superheroes. And the day he ran after Dreamcatcher on its slow, gliding walk through an underdeveloped countryside of hand-tilled fields and rice paddies whose owners were still fast asleep, he had wanted to change the world for the better. Fix the country's corrupt government that even his fledgling mind had understood to be broken. Save the people. Become a hero. Childish ideations.
Actually having power, however, wasn't about how many mountains he could fling before he exhausted himself. It was having a nation at your fingertips. Or, in the case of one USARILN director, a school of supernatural, magically gifted students at her beck and call. In exchange, she provided them a sort of sanctuary from the horrors of discrimination so long as they were willing to fend off monsters on command. On a bigger scale, the Precursors were under the same agreement, with a simple stipulation: if they ever fought back, Benediction would die first. The world's only known hope of revival, even from death, would be executed through a simple implant--similar to a pacemaker--that would trigger a heart attack. Any attempt to tamper with it would kill him as well. And the public would hear that the Precursors had killed the only power that could resurrect the dead. It didn't truly matter that most people would never have access to Benediction. The fact resurrection existed at all was a large beacon of hope to most in a world where death lurked and loomed from every angle. And none of them were so heartless that they would abandon Renard to die for their own "freedom," which would end up a perpetual chase until the day one of them slipped up.
Of course, the healer Precursor himself had always harbored misgivings when it was his life on the line, but to his credit the man had never faulted any of his teammates for their predicament. The government knew the damage they could wreak if left unchecked and the threat of death to the world's most competent healer was enough to stay the hands of countries, let alone eight magical humans.
Vincent and Julia had subtly offered to find a workaround to the death trigger implanted near Renard's heart, but a simple glare from the man had ended the double-sided words and implications. He didn't trust them to manage it without killing him and Vincent had accepted that the paranoia was fair enough when neither of them could perform surgery to remove the thing. It was just as likely that Julia's power would wear off and Renard would die from other complications of open heart surgery performed by complete amateurs with zero medical knowledge. And even with the aid of a practiced surgeon, there was no guarantee that the device didn't have alternative consequences on removal that they weren't aware of. Too many uncertainties, and Stella had only confirmed for every question and hypothetical solution Vincent could think of that "Yes, Renard will die."
No one was happy with the situation, but they had lived with it for years now. Among their skillsets, it just seemed like they didn't have the powers necessary to secure everyone's freedom without sacrificing the healer.
Now, though, with the events of the previous night behind him and a small hope, he had a few questions for the woman who seemed to maneuver through the current storm of politics like a leviathan through water. Her underground room was clean and painstakingly neat, the director of USARILN East seated behind stacks of papers and folders as she flipped quickly through a thick document secured with a binder clip where staples had failed.
She didn't acknowledge the Precursor stepping into the room, pausing only to take a quick sip from a cup of coffee nearby.
βSo, the Hyatt Regency,β Vincent began with a curt statement, his tone remaining as flat and uninterested as ever. Without waiting for her permission, he took a seat in a nearby couch, crossing his legs on the coffee table in front of it and settling into his seat. He would be here a while.
But Zhang had interacted enough with the Precursor to understand the question behind it, so she looked up from her mound of paperwork, waiting for him to elaborate.
βAnd using your own money, too? Whatβs wrong with an official facility?β
"They refused to let over a dozen powerful subnaturals into the safest locations in the Pentagon and the White House, so I had to settle for the safest civilian-accessible location." As if that explained everything, she returned to her current file, content to let the Precursor stew in his seat.
"That's quite a lot of resources invested on these kids."
"Yes."
"Which begs the question why."
"I believe we've already discussed this. And no one should have any issues with my decisions since none of these expenses come from taxpayer dollars." The Director earmarked her location in the document and placed it on the desk, turning her full attention to the Precursor. "So what are you here for?"
"Let's just say that...I have a feeling you are still hiding an agenda from us."
"Even if that were true, what makes you think I'd just tell you?" She swirled the liquid in her cup briefly before downing the rest and looking to the nearby coffee machine, checking if it had finished brewing another batch.
"Thought I'd ask."
"Well then. You've asked."
"And I would like to ask some more." The Precusor remained in his seat, the message clear. He still had yet to accomplish what he came here for. "I want a favor."
"I make no promises." But she didn't turn him down.
"You have always had such an...uncanny luck when it comes to asking Stella questions." The previous night came to mind, when the Director had managed to find out when and where her subnaturals would be causing trouble. "I want to ask her something, too."
"I'm sure you don't need me to get what you want from Foresight. You are the Precursors' tactician, after all."
She stood up when the light on the coffee machine flipped from red to green, sliding her cup beneath the dispenser as the coffee poured out and filled the room with a hazelnut scent.
"But let's say I agreed," she continued without turning around, keeping busy with adding sugar and cream to her coffee, "what would I be asking her? And what's in it for me?"
"You will get a favor from me. From us." Vincent watched her back, choosing his words carefully. Because this was, no matter how he looked at it, treason. A dangerous offense. The underground rooms were the only safe locations to talk due to the excessive sealing and fortifications on every room in the event of emergencies. The same level of defense prevented any significant wiring for cameras or audio within the rooms themselves, and just beyond the automated sliding door, the paneling ofthe room could be made airtight in under a second if a biological attack commenced, the wall panels designed to close swiftly over the door's opening. He was lucky, then, that the Director had chosen one of these rooms during her stay rather than better accommodations on the upper floors. Or she was lucky. Again. "And in return, all you need to do is ask Stella about Renard's implant. Or more specifically, how to remove it."
"I could secure an even larger favor from the President himself if I notified him of this, you're aware."
The Director returned to her seat, a new cup of coffee in hand.
"You must be very confident in me to even present the offer. That, or you're not as intelligent as everyone believes."
"Perhaps a little bit of both." Vincent merely held her gaze, expression betraying nothing. "So what's your answer?"
"It's not a favor from you I care about. It's one from Benediction. Guarantee me a resurrection in the future should something go wrong and I'll see what I can do for your...situation."
"Deal." Vincent rose to his feet then. "I would wish you luck, Director, but you don't really need it, do you?"
She only smiled in response. "Some of us are just lucky."
As he turned to leave, the Director called out. "From my session with Foresight, Kadabra, something exciting will happen today, though telling you any more would alter the flow of events. At the very least, I'll tell you to stay alert and prepared."
"...Thank you." The Precusor paused for a few moments, then turned around to face Zhang once more. "And call me Vincent."
With that said, he left.
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"You're fucking kidding me. They really went into Washington," Donovan groaned, peering at the fortified defenses of the city's outer rim where multiple layers of tall, electrified perimeter fencing hummed with live and lethal current. There were several different entry points into the city, but on the furthermost edges guards and K9 units prowled like a scene straight from a prison break movie.
It seemed strange, perhaps, that the city hadn't walled itself in like so many other small towns that had the resources, but the matter wasn't too difficult to fathom after some thought. Given the wide variety of Dreamcatcher creatures and powers along with the constant stream of refugees surging into safer, better equipped areas, most large cities had to cope with balancing both a strong defense and flexible city spread during the years immediately following the Slumber, something construction of a wall would have hampered incredibly. And even then, a wall wasn't nearly as effective as people wanted it to be. The near constant demand for ground-based fortifications had died down quickly when a massive sphinx had flown into the city and wiped out much of the main downtown square, decimating the old Pinnacle Theater in the process.
It was proof--horrible, yet effective proof--that elimination and fast response trumped standard methods of prevention. These weren't cockroaches that could be dealt with simply by blocking off routes of entry. These were full-blown monsters with a plethora of unnatural attributes and abilities courtesy of Dreamcatcher's interpretation. Most of them would not be fazed by a wall.
Now preventative techniques were focused on stopping any straggling small fry, while the city relied heavily upon Precursor intervention to withstand larger attacks. In the last few years, there had been progressively higher rates of monster assaults, though most of the public were spared the panic of awareness. USARILN East's first experimental unit, after all, had borne the weight of rerouting and annihilating the enemies at the steady cost of their own members, the group whittling down to the paltry six that remained, two of whom had been more recent additions within the last month.
But the payoff was the glistening city and its gleaming new downtown center, a gift worth the price of human (or subnatural, rather) lives. Not a shred of justice for the forgotten dead, nor would there ever be.
Perhaps what followed was deserved, then.
Donovan tracked the group of Aberrations Cat's Cradle had been chasing on foot and through teleports since La Plata, straining to catch the sense of relief and safety just as they passed out of his range. Even the notorious terrorists weren't keen on marching straight into the jaws of heavy military and the waiting Precursors. A game of cat and mouse between Jonathan and the enemy group's teleporter had ended with the other side's victory and escape, Jonathan's randomized portals costing them precious time in the chase.
And it was all the more disturbing that in one of the United States' most hostile cities, the runaway group had felt relief. The ginger suspected a safehouse, potentially. Or contacts in the city.
Contacts influential enough to let them pass through the security checkpoint without issue.
"I don't think we can challenge this, Nico," he mumbled, trying to sense anything other than the soldiers in the distance.
"They have two Aberrations about to become Animi and you're telling me we can't challenge that?" Nico's glasses were cracked in several locations and the left hinge wobbled dangerously close to breaking apart.
"That's exactly what I'm saying. It'd be bad enough just getting in and out, but to fight two at once and the Precursors? Not to mention a stray bullet can kill any of us if someone isn't keeping an eye out constantly for soldiers. That's a disaster waiting to happen."
Donovan felt the hypocrisy rise in his throat like bile. Just days ago he had argued about Nico's callousness in letting Wisford's civilians die, but he was all too willing to let the citizens of Washington fall prey to the two Aberrations just a few quick kills from becoming the latest in a long series of monsters.
"Then we wait here," Nico's voice pulled Donovan's thoughts back to the present.
"What? We're way too close for comfort. If we don't leave now there's a real high chance we'll get caught--there's no way someone didn't catch Maaya's giant worm display back there. We're lucky they aren't patrolling as far as this freaking hill!"
There was heat rising to both his neck and voice at Nico's stubborn insistence on staying. It was true that they couldn't pass up the opportunity where two Aberrations would change, but everything about the location was a death trap for well-known terrorists and their targets weren't close enough for Donovan to scare back towards an approachable distance.
"It's our lives to two more tries, Nico. I don't think it's worth it. ...And I don't want to argue with you. Feels like we've been doing that too much these days."
Whisper came up to them, then, the raised voices drawing his attention. Rhian followed behind him, her expression mirroring his concern. "Hey, Nico," she cast a wary glance towards Donovan before motioning towards the rest of the group behind them, "The others are getting kinda antsy. We want to know what the plan is. Are we waiting for something?"
Even from that distance, though, the group could already tell that they were far too late.
A nanosecond in time.
And for all the Aberrations in the city it felt like a choking firebrand gripping their necks across the lines of their mark.
But only two today. Just two.
Yes. Two.
Too brief to comprehend and just long enough to feel with every molecule in a body, but in the moment time stretched to eternity, running away from its own flow like it feared for its life.
Light froze and fractured and every particulate matter in the air knew its place like space itself was holding its breath and waiting to drown.
The Animi of Cat's Cradle felt the thunderous pressure crash over them again, rushing towards the vacancy of their Stigmas and into the sanctuary of their thoughts, slipping fingers into the gaps, widening, searching, peering.
And then it was gone, as if dragged away by a slipstream.
An emergency siren blared in the distance and suddenly the protective perimeter surrounding the city was in chaos. Soldiers craned their necks in alarm, some ran towards vehicles and others shouted orders to one another just before a low rumbling drowned it all out. A massive pillar of dirt and debris burst up from within the forest of skyscrapers and more recently erected watchtowers that dotted the city.
Before the dust could settle, a second noise drew all eyes towards the sky. A high pitched ringing accompanied a bright white light as it flared and condensed just before firing off a thin beam that, for a moment, seemed as though it were headed towards Roosevelt Island but instead plunged into the Potomac. Chilling flurries of snow spilled from the beam in short bursts, spiraling off in some direction like a rogue firework before exploding. The first wisp found its way dancing towards the reflection pool in front of several shocked and terrified citizens and tourists. With a sparkling pop, everything within an eight foot radius was completely encased in ice. Bloodcurdling screams increased in volume as, along with a small corner of the long pool, several people were frozen in place.
Meanwhile, a small whirlpool formed in the center of the river where the beam met the water. A massive hand composed of solid ice rose from the deep blue currents, reaching for the shore. Five clawed fingers, roughly the girth of redwood trees, plunged into the asphalt of one street, sending cars veering off the road and crashing into each other. A gargantuan shoulder emerged next, followed by a head and face that, aside from its icy exterior and frozen expression, seemed remarkably human. Two sapphire eyes were lifted high above the city as the ice giant rose to its full height and the beam disappeared. Standing in the river, frantic boats moved towards the opposite shore at excruciatingly slow speeds, leading some men to abandon ship in panicked confidence that they might outswim the monster. Unfortunately the temperature of the lake had fallen well past what any normal human being could withstand and those unfortunate enough to try their luck couldn't help but sink as the cold overcame them.
While the river's shores erupted in chaos, more screams filled the main streets thick with smoke and debris. On the northwest side of the city, a blob of gelatinous, transparent substance had formed. It was large, rivalling skyscrapers with its height and could easily engulf said buildings. Within the substance of its body, a floating heart and brain could be identified, and from those two organs, nerves and veins thread across the clear slime. The creature appeared harmless, its shapeless body devoid of any claws or fangs, until it began to catch people with its slime. Civilians and soldiers alike sank into the blob like quicksand as it spread, slowly but surely drowning city blocks.
In the distance, the air around one guard tower suddenly shimmered with jagged gray lines like the space was cracking apart, distorted by an unknown power. Seconds later, the walls collapsed in on themselves like paper. The phenomenon repeated a few moments later at another guard outpost, disabling the cityβs defenses at a frightening speed.
By sheer coincidence, all of the threats originated from the far side of the city, towards the border of Washington, D.C. and Bethesda, Maryland, leaving the White House and the safest political havens and buildings untouched for the moment, but with an ice titan as tall as the Washington Monument lumbering through the town, the blessing of distance was a small one indeed.
In the Hyatt Regency Hotel, pandemonium had broken out among the staff and occupants, with many of the VIPs and major political figures ushered quickly towards the safety of the White House bunker. Those with less ties to the government were directed towards an underground tunnel that led to a fortified shelter just outside the White House grounds--one of many developed under the city for fear of this exact event. There was no concern for the subnatural occupants of the top floor, with only the USARILN soldiers rushing to their rooms and calling for backup from any nearby military troops. The deafening crash of a building toppling just several blocks away cut the message relay short and Officer Brahms was the first to issue orders to the students themselves.
"Two or three hostiles in the city, all high threat!" he barked as soldiers ran to pull students out of their rooms and into the living room. "And a monster we're classifying as a three until further notice! Orders are to evacuate and regroup for an assault once backup arrives--"
The entire building rumbled as the titan broke into a sprint, tearing through the city haphazardly. Military fighter jets had already sortied and were firing from afar, but the creature was already retaliating in kind, breaking off segments of buildings and pitching them towards the planes. A giant swatting at flies. One of the thrown building sections--a fifth of a high-rise office building--smashed into the ground level of the Hyatt Regency's East Tower, the force of the impact crushing half of the ground floor and destabilizing the entire tower. The skywalks that connected the towers creaked and groaned dangerously from the impact and sections of the glassy encasement broke off, shattering on the ground far below.
But it was a jump from the ice titan that did it, the creature jettisoning itself forward to lunge at another squadron of jets hammering missiles into its rapidly repairing body. The impact of its landing about seven blocks away was an earthquake and the unsteady tower lurched.
Once.
Twice.
Then toppled.
But the royal penthouse suite had long been advertised as "bulletproof" and "bombproof," boasting about the multiple layers of protection anyone staying on the top floor would receive. And it wasn't all smoke and mirrors. The tower collapsed forward, tearing away from the attached skywalks and falling across New Jersey Avenue and the shopping plaza across the street, sending debris, glass, and dust surging out of the impact in a wave.
Inside the intact penthouse suite with its fortified walls and floors, most of the windows had shattered on impact, raining glass onto the students tumbled onto the side amidst the scattered furniture and spilled snacks from the shelves. Several soldiers were dead or injured, bodies crushed by sofas or injured by chandeliers. The wall of broken glass was now the floor and the adjacent wall, with its row of shattered windows, was now the new doorway.
Officer Brahms was unresponsive near an equally knocked out Lawrence, both rendered unconscious by the fall and impact while other soldiers attempted to move furniture off their fellow military.
Emma and Hazel had, by a miracle, landed on an upturned sofa, sustaining only light scratches from the hail of glass. One of the soldiers still standing glanced at the two and, gritting his teeth, fished Brahms's phone from the downed man's pocket, tapping at a few commands that opened all of Hazel's cuffs save for the original school's cuff and the collar around her neck.
Ernie was pinned under a coffee table nearby, but the glass and wood structure wasn't heavy enough to be of any serious threat. Sander and Marcus had tumbled cleanly onto the new floor of windows and glass, both sporting lightly embedded shards and small gashes across their bodies. Brent, Lily, and Chris had been partially buried under a mountain of miscellaneous items--lamps, small end tables, cushions, and the broken frames of various paintings.
A larger group of Grant, Kusari, Siena, and Callan had fallen onto each other into a large dog pile, in that order with Grant on the bottom, nearly speared through by Kusari's claws. Angel and Sophia were half caught beneath a bookshelf a short distance away, the weight of the damage looking almost certain they'd suffer internal hemorrhaging. Gregory, Zoe, and Allison had been caught by one of the chandeliers and its torn wiring in a corner, tangled and held down by its weight.
Christmas had stumbled near the balcony during the hotel's initial shakes, and had barely avoided tumbling out in the fall. When the entire hotel had finally crashed to its side, the balcony segment had broken off, dropping him a short, but painful distance to the group below where a broken edge of the railing slammed into his leg, impaling it as another bar stabbed into his side.
Between the pain and his short, uneven breaths, he had no time to scream.
Arbiters 
Aberrations 
