"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"The lady upstairs has a mission for you, so you'd better get ready quickly or you'll miss the debriefing, which may or may not be starting in… Five minutes ago," Waters smiled. "She does like things to be timely and organized, so she probably won't be happy that you're taking so long."

Is he trying to get a rise out of me? Or does he actually want to make Technologica hate me? What does he even gain out of it? He continues taunting me from my bed, feet kicking like a preteen girl. On the off chance that he's lying about where we're going, I put on jeans, waterproof boots, a gray undershirt, and a hoodie, with a windbreaker thrown on just in case. Enough layers if it's cold, but everything is easily removable if it's warm or humid.

What if he's lying, and Technologica didn't send him to get me? My thoughts about his motives don't mean much when I can't very well refuse him. I open the safe containing the filled vials for my helmet and my gun. Should I? Already, my thoughts are drifting toward the ramifications of shooting Waters dead. If I'm right about him lying, then I'll be murdering a BNA Special Agent in cold blood, but Technologica might let it slide depending on how she views our usefulness in relation to each other. If he's telling the truth and I kill him, then I risk having her directly retaliate. I don't doubt she has other pawns like him that she could send after me. In fact, it would be wise to assume she already has a few in place to watch over me in Quinstin.

"Leave the gun and your phone here. You won't need either," he said.

That settles it. While killing him might be momentarily satisfying, it would be short-sighted. The urge to silence him, to hurt him, isn't easily smothered. But now that I'm aware of the problem, I can start to recognize erratic behaviors before I act on them. I have to be vigilant at all times now until I get these pieces out of me. Years of observing other people, studying their actions and expressions to interpret what they might do, and now I have to do it to myself as well. The list of debts I will repay to Technologica grows longer. I text Vivienne about my sky summons and brief instructions on what to do in case I'm gone for too long. I put both phones into my safe and activate my mask, transforming it into my helmet.

"I'm ready, Waters," I said, using the helmet to mimic him.

"Neat trick. I hope it can do more than parlor tricks," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder and activating his ability.

The trip to the space station isn't any less nauseating when I can see where we're going, but the view before we get there is an incredible one. The planet beneath me seems so large from up here. This is where I belong: above everyone else—my rightful place on top. Taking over Quinstin as a goal seems small, comparatively. My aspirations should be bigger. Why should I settle for a city when there's so much more I could have? Zero's quest doesn't have to just serve as a distraction for Technologica; it could be bigger than that. Machinations begin forming in my mind, ways to connect the disparate pieces I have on the board, and how to utilize them to their fullest. Waters' words wake me from my thoughts as we arrive in the docking area of the space station.

"Hey, get a move on," he barked at me, walking ahead.

This bastard. Clamping down on my rising desire to do him harm is getting harder the longer I'm near him. I follow behind the Special Agent as he leads me through the maze that is Technologica's base. We're walking instead of using his Traveller power or the floating platforms the robotic woman utilized last time I was here. Is this another attempt at making me late just to incense her? What is his play here? He's no longer trying to get a rise out of me, which is a welcome change, but his silence is suspicious at this point. Further, we go through the tubes and tunnels until we reach a door that slides open for us, revealing one of the metal spheres I witnessed previously.

Technologica is inside, piloting one of her many puppets. The room itself is a lounge of sorts, with couches, TVs, and other amenities one would expect. Seeing Technologica's smiling android face makes my face hot and my blood boil. That wretched fucking bitch. The humiliation and disrespect I suffered the last time I was here come racing to the forefront of my brain. My helmet reflects my facial expressions, and I've been glaring hatefully at the former Cape since we entered the room. Not just that. Three other people are waiting inside the room, none dressed as oddly as Waters or I. Insults and threats are on the tip of my tongue for the agent, and I've realized too late what Waters' goal is. All three look irritated at our arrival.

"Sorry about the tardiness. He kept wasting precious time," Waters lied.

"When I send for you, Nobody, it is not a casual request like an invitation to a party; it is a matter that affects the human race. Do not forget your place, Cowl, and by whose mercy it is that you are allowed to exist. Don't think just because your helmet is free from my control that you are untouchable," she said with about as much emotion as someone making their lunch order.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm, there is no point in defending yourself. She will never believe me over him. I'm starting to regret dumping all the beer out. I'd kill for a drink.

"I am here now, Technologica. What can I do for you?" I asked, keeping my face and tone neutral.

"You will be accompanying these three on a mission to ascertain the validity of a report that shades have overrun the town of Nestor Falls," she answered.

WHAT?

"That isn't the agreement we had. I am not one of your people and I do not work for you," I said, trying to keep myself from spewing threats.

"Oh, child. When you willingly put yourself under another's boot, you don't get to complain about how much pressure they put on you. The only agreement we have is that I will end you when you outlive your usefulness."

"I can't just disappear on some pointless errand for you. I have responsibilities, places that I am expected to be," I argued.

"I have already emailed your university president, and you have been granted leave for the next week," she said dismissively. "Nine, you're in charge when in the field. You know what to look for. If you confirm it is him, I'll glass the area once you are all free of the blast zone."

Of course she did. So this wasn't planned on a whim, but with a good amount of foresight. Why though? What is the point of any of this? Nine, the woman Technologica placed in charge of me, shares a lot of physical similarities with Aubrey's mother. That would make her Southeastern Asian, but there's a slim chance I'm wrong. She's a Neuvohuman, but there aren't obvious tells about what her powers might be. Occasionally, the light will hit her eyes and they'll glow for a moment. The glow fades quickly enough that I can't be sure I'm not imagining it. She's wearing a black hyperweave suit without any embellishments or flair that might help identify her. Focusing on observing my would-be keeper is forcing me to not think about the multitude of things I would be happy to call Waters and Technologica. The way she holds herself speaks of being used to people following her orders. So whoever she is, she's in a position of power. Is it BNA or Heroes' Union? I don't believe she's a Cowl, but I don't dismiss the possibility either. Every detail I can learn about Technologica and her agents will help me discover the eventual pressure point I can use against her. The webs we weave can be unraveled by a single thread.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Technologica exits, leaving me with Nine, Waters, and the two others. One is a suspiciously young boy with near-translucent skin. He can't be older than ten and is dressed in a gray suit. He's wearing a yellow baseball cap and loudly snapping bubbles of green gum. The final member of our party is an older, bony woman with skin tanned from a life under the hot sun. Her gray hair is worn down her back in a thick, long braid, clasped in a metal band. She has plenty of rings on her near-skeletal fingers and a bronze broach with a large opal inside. Wearing a thick woolen green shawl over her sweater and comfortable pants, she looks like someone's abuela rather than an agent of Technologica. But that's the point, isn't it? That her people are everywhere, and you have no idea who could be working for her. It's starting to occur to me that I have almost certainly underestimated just how massive her organization is.

"Let's move out, Waters," Nine said, the two others beside her. All three of Technologica's people are carrying a bag, but there is no way to tell what's inside. Unlike with me, Waters doesn't make any jokes; he just nods his head as they approach us. So it's me he has a problem with, not everybody around him. The five of us crowd together, and then our surroundings blur as he activates his power. Where is Nestor Falls?

Nestor Falls, as it turns out, is a small town in Ontario, Canada. While no one spoke to me during our descent, the small child, whose name is Forty-four, was willing to speak to me when we landed. Home to about four hundred residents, the town was founded by Mr. Nestor in the early twentieth century. Originally, the community was home to loggers and their families, but the logging business had all but dried up some two hundred years ago. Then they switched to the hospitality business, using the allure of a quiet, sleepy town to advertise to people looking for peaceful retreats.

Waters departs, leaving us at the edge of the town. I, Nine, Forty-four, and the older woman, whose number is Eleven, are standing in the center of a dirt road as snowflakes fall around us. There's a single blinking street lamp above us, but other than that, it's dark out here. Out here, away from any large settlements or cities, the night sky is visible; the moon and stars twinkling above. Without any trees out here, the wind is free to buffet us with cold air and whip the snowflakes up into a storm. My helmet saves me from the worst of the cold, as well as giving me perfect vision despite the darkness. The only one besides me that seems unaffected by the temperature is Forty-four, who looks to have an invisible bubble around him that blocks any snow from reaching him. But his bubble doesn't have any effect on the darkness, judging by the way he's squinting his eyes. Our leader, Nine, is shivering, but her eyes glow whenever the light from the street lamp hits them. Some kind of ocular ability, then. The older woman is having the worst time of anyone, her teeth rattling and her eyes closed tightly.

"You see anything, Nine? Any signs of people or shades?" Forty-four asked.

"No, but that doesn't mean anything. We're about a fifteen-minute jog from reaching the first cabin, and if the rumors are true about shades, we won't be able to see them when it's this dark," she answered.

They keep saying shades. Shades, as in dead ghosts, or does that have another connotation I'm unaware of? Forty-four was willing to give me information about the town earlier, but that was where the conversation ended. They are mostly treating me as if I'm not here. I still don't know why I am here. If she wanted me dead, she didn't have to send me to the Canadian boonies with three assassins; she could just have Waters kill me in my sleep. So I must be here because of something that I am uniquely suited for, meaning my power is needed. But then she also mentioned that a man may be here, one who requires her to glass the area. That means there could be someone here who is too strong to engage with, or that the potential cost is too high for Technologica to pay. And that is someone worth getting to know. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

"Let's get moving. Eleven, are you going to be alright?" Nine asked.

"It's nothing but my old bones yelling at me; I'll be fine once we get moving," Eleven reassured her.

Nine nodded, and we began walking toward the town with her in the lead, Eleven and Forty-four side by side, and me in the back. Either they don't trust me, or they believe I will only be a hindrance to whatever plan they have. It suits me if they don't expect much from me; it'll make taking their powers and killing them all that much easier. Technologica said she can't access my helmet, and she is hesitant to send one of her puppets here for some reason. She needed boots on the ground, so she doesn't even feel comfortable looking at this place through satellites or drones. I'm betting we're all alone out here. All alone out in the middle of nowhere, with people who consider me such a non-threat that they've shown their backs to me, in a town that might be devoid of anyone excepts ghosts and a single Neuvohuman that Technologica is afraid of. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. And I've become quite proficient at taking advantage of those.

The only sound out here is the crunch of snow beneath our boots and the occasional howl of the wind. Forty-four seems bored, for lack of a better word. It's harder to read a child's face, though it's clear now that his youthfulness is either a side effect of his powers or an issue with his pituitary gland. With a goal in mind, I start to settle into the role of a silent observer. I'll figure out your abilities and then hunt you each down one by one. The twenty-two-minute walk, Eleven being too old to jog, is eerily uneventful. Nine stops suddenly as we're about to reach the front door of the dark cabin in front of us. She jerks her head to the left suddenly, making a fist with her left hand, but when I look there, I see nothing. Still, the other two heed her held-up hand, trusting in her warning. She points to her ear and then mimes to the rest of us to stay silent. What the hell are they so worried about?

My question is answered as the door in front of us splinters outward as something blasts through it. It looks like a dog, or rather some kind of canine, but twisted beyond repair. A misshapen thing with a bloated charcoal colored body, with two large mouths on either side of its torso, drooling and panting. It has no eyes; instead, it sniffed the air to try and find us. The front legs are too long and bent so that it walks on its elbows, not its paws, and the hind legs are as large as an oil drum. What happened to it? The mouth is too small to contain the number of teeth it has, much more than any wolf would. The size of a fully grown cow, but with the uncanny balance of a cat. No one moves, including me, as it jerks its head around in an attempt to hear us. Is this a shade?

Nine releases her fist, using her fingers to count down to something. When she drops her index finger, four things happen. Nine leaps at the hound, putting her fist through its head before jumping back to us. Then Eleven kneels down, whispering some kind of prayer as the ground begins to tremble around us. Forty-four pops his gum bubble loudly, and when I turn to look at him, I see what caused his reaction. Surrounding us are ten more monstrous-looking charcoal creatures. But these are vaguely human in the way the last one was vaguely canine. Eleven finishes her prayer, standing up as four sets of pure white hands burst through the ground. Climbing out of the dirt are four mannequins made of stone so white it has to be the work of a power. They're small, around four and a half feet tall, and faster than their composition should allow. The four of them defensively encircle Eleven as she pulls a canister out of her bag. Is that a flash grenade? She pulls the pin and chucks it surprisingly far for a woman her age. It lands in front of the group of creatures, and then the area lights up like it's daytime for a moment. My helmet protects me from the flash, so I see the monsters explode into nothingness from the light. The hound's body is also gone, but I see a pattern on the dirt where it was before. A blacker patch in a similar shape to the beast. The final thing that happens and the thing that makes me realize just how bad things are is the hound rising from the patch without a scratch on it, and then ten other monsters following suit.

"Fuck," Forty-four cursed.

Fuck indeed.

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