Second Archon War: Superbia Hominim 1 (Patreon)

1: Hero of Alexandria

Ei floated alone upon her plane of Euthymia, meditating.

Well, reading manga. She told herself she was resting after planting yet another Thunder Sakura tree, but the truth of it was, she was mentally exhausted. Mostly from having to be around and speak to people all the time. She had spent 500 years alone, and while it was good to spend time with her daughters, familiars, and even her mortal retainers, it was still draining. 

Plus, she absolutely needed to finish this latest chapter of Eyeshield 21. It was a brand new manga, and while Ei had little interest in sports, this truly made American Soccer interesting. Or was it football? Regardless, the art was excellent, and Ei was very invested in the characters. Plus, new chapters of Naruto, One Piece, and Bleach. She’d had physical volumes delivered at great expense from Earth Aleph, and she was ready to sink into several hours of decadence. 

Including the case of Coca-Cola she’d had the Shuumatsuban smuggle in from Mexico, along with several dozen varieties of American snacks. There was just something to be said for how much sugar they put in everything. Ei would never allow such products to be sold to her own populace, but it wasn’t as though she could get diabetes. 

Just as Ei was really getting into the latest adventures of Luffy, something changed. Slowly, she closed the magazine, then stood up. With a sweep of her hand, she spun her realm to show her the sky of Earth Bet, which she regarded for long moments. 

There. 

“Sapientia Oromasdis,” Ei remarked, regarding the newly linked grouping of stars. “So. Buer has arrived. Interesting.” 

There was a metaphysical knocking, and Ei stifled a groan. Not him. Ah, well. She supposed the time to relax was over. She gave her permission, and a moment later, Barbatos stepped into her realm. 

“Heya, Beezy!” the annoying wind sprite said with a jaunty wave. Unlike Ei, Barbatos had taken to wearing the garb of this world, and was wearing a set of clothing that was fashionable to the young mortals in his realm; tight black “jeans” and a “Green Day” T-shirt.  He stepped over several empty candy wrappers and Ei’s TV and Gamecube. “Well, well, well. Did your mother never tell you to clean up your room?”

Ei frowned in distaste. “Did yours never tell you it is impolite to be rude to those whose dwellings you visit?”

“Darn, see, this is what we’re missing out on! Mothers! If only we’d had them,” Barbatos doffed his green beret and held it over his heart, before placing it back on his head and grinning. “Well! Looks like another of us showed up. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Ei nodded, gazing up at the image of the sky she’d conjured. “Buer. I know little of Samiel’s heir.”

“Me neither. I was taking a bit of a nap during her tenure, didn’t have time to catch up,” Barbatos admitted. He frowned up at the constellation, then over at Ei’s forge and the neatly stacked endless rows of weapons she’d prepared. “Any guesses on how she’ll land on things?”

“By all accounts, Sumeru was a prosperous realm that enjoyed the blessings of their Archon,” Ei said. “She will not stomach the dictates of this new Sustainer well. I trust it will take little to persuade her over to our side.”

“Mmm. I suppose. Though I do wonder… should we really be calling this Scion the Sustainer?” Barbatos mused. 

“It is as fitting a title as any other. He is a Descender, as was the original Sustainer,” Ei said with a shrug. “He maintains his Heavenly Principles, what he calls the Cycle.”

“And he’s a real jerk, just like the last one. Though, you know, we’re technically Descenders too, now,” Barbatos pointed out. 

Ei gave him a flat look, and did not dignify that with a response. The very idea. She was not foreign to this land. This was her land. Her people. She was one with them, and they with her. She felt it in her very essence. Descender. Such a concept was ludicrous. Her fate was written in the stars of this land, as was Barbatos’. 

“Speaking of, seen any other Descenders? Aside from us and Buer, I mean,” Barbatos pointed out. 

“Only the Dead God, and the Sustainer,” Ei said. She frowned. Barbatos never asked questions without purpose. “Who else have you met?”

“Someone else who’s fate isn’t in these stars,” Barbatos mused. He shrugged, then laughed. “Well, I was never one to let fickle fate dictate the lives of those under my wings. And I suppose you’ve decided to defy fate yet again yourself. I’m sure we can convince Buer to do the same. Any ideas on where to look?”

“I was quite wrong on where to search for you,” Ei stated flatly. “And my searchers were somewhat… misguided.”

“Mmm. Well, I’ve got two guesses. Do you mind?” 

Ei gestured to grant Barbatos permission, and the God of Freedom conjured up a green sphere with the markings of the world on it. “My first guess: India. Sumeru is known for its rainforests more than anything else, and India has plenty. She’d be a dead ringer for several of their gods, and India is famous for its wise men. First place I’d look.”

“A compelling argument,” Ei agreed with a nod. “And the other?”

“Egypt.” Venti spun the globe slightly and indicated a separate land. “It’s more Amon’s land, but Sumeru was joined of the desert and rainforest. It’s also considered a land of ancient wisdom, and the famous Library of Alexandria was there.”

Ei’s eye twitched. “That is the name of that upstart Yankee.”

“Yep! Her boyfriend’s name is Hero, too! Hero of Alexandria! Heh heh, quite the pun, eh?” Barbatos smiled guilelessly at Ei, which was how she knew he was mocking her. 

“I take it you are pawning the job of searching for Buer upon myself?” Ei asked, feeling her usual sense of irritation at Barbatos. 

“I’ll send my Knights to Egypt, and perhaps a few other places. I suggest you look in India. It’s important we find her before Scion does, or worse, she violates his Cycle,” Barbatos said, his own gaze growing serious. “She’s a young god. Very young, by the stories that have drifted to me. She didn’t live through the Archon War like you and I did. We know what the days to come will bring, and are making preparations. She lacks the experience.”

“Are you?” Ei asked, giving Barbatos a curious look. She hadn’t sensed any great expenditures of power, or seen him gathering armies as she had. But that had never been his way.

“Oh, I am. I assure you. When the time comes, I will make the Tyrant of Cycles regret the day he extended his iron rod over this land, and set his parasites upon it,” Venti said grimly. He glanced at Ei. “I sensed what you did to the Parasites. Bold. I half expected him to come for you then.”

“A calculated risk. I too have sensed what you have done. I would not have called it preparing for war, and yet… hmm. I suppose I did much the same with my dragons.”

“You’re gonna have some explaining to do when Focalors arrives, you know. Stealing the Hydro dragon! That’s not very sporting of you,” Barbatos laughed. 

“She may have… Keiga, loath as I would be to give her away,” Ei said, and felt real sorrow at the prospect. “But when I set that plan in motion, I did not yet fully suspect more of us would arrive. You then agree all the Seven shall be drawn to this world?”

“Buer all but confirms it. I’d get ready, you made a real mess of Morax’s front lawn, and he was a grumpy old man even when he was young!'' With that cryptic remark, Barbatos waved farewell. “I’ll keep in touch. How about a bet: First one to find Buer, the other has to buy drinks for them for a whole year?”

“You have not the funds to buy me beverages,” Ei said in exasperation.

“Tee hee! Well, I’ll just have to look extra hard!” With that, Barbatos departed back to the mortal realm. 

Ei sighed, then glanced around at her sanctum and winced. If Mushu found her realm in a mess again…

Well. She’d just have to clean up before he visited her again. After this chapter of Naruto. 

It had been a long time since Fatoumata had actually looked at herself in a mirror. She had her long hair loose about her shoulders and was holding a hairbrush. One she’d had to purchase. Had her hair always had this sheen? She hadn’t been doing a proper hair care routine in…how long? A decade? More? There were still worry lines and wrinkles on her face, what you would expect from a woman in her mid-thirties. 

The only problem with that was that Fatoumata was in her mid-forties. 

From the few pictures she’d found of herself, she looked easily a decade younger now. Hell, she felt younger now too. Almost all of the aches and pains that built up with age were gone, she had more energy, and she slept better at night as well. All thanks to one weird trick.

Gently, Fatoumata stroked the emerald gem hanging around her neck, caressing it and feeling the warmth within. 

Let your Vision Guide you, Daughter of Samsara.

Samsara. A Sanskrit word, with hugely significant importance in most Indian religions. The Cycle of Life, of reality. 

Daughter of the Cycle. A cruel irony. And yet… that voice.

Fatoumata finished brushing her hair, then carefully put it up in a kerchief, a far different habit than she had cultivated for all these long years. But things were changing.

The Cycle must be broken. 

Putting on her lab coat, Fatoumata picked up her notepad, and began flipping through her notes. 

The voice of a child. She spoke in Baoulé, with an accent not used on Earth Bet. 

Fatoumata tapped her lip for a moment, then turned the page and continued to scribble. Her handwriting had always been poor, but now her pen raced across the page fluidly. 

Investigate if other Emerald Visions have begun to appear. See if they too are tied to an Archon.

Pausing, Fatoumata tapped her pen on the page. Archon Theory. Did she subscribe to this now? It was a fringe theory, but…

She went over to her computer and tapped away at it. She scanned the reports forwarded to her by her secretary, then dug deeper into the records of new vision holders. One report caught her eye. It was written in English, but she recognized the name: Dr. Bashir Saeed. 

New Vision Type: Emerald in nature, seems to govern plant life. First recorded 30-10-2002. Subject classified. Proposed name for new Vision Type: Dendro. 

On a whim, Fatoumata went back to her private email, not her Cauldron or PRT accounts, and composed a message to Dr. Bashir. 

Subject: re:New Vision Type

From: moroccan_rose@yohoo.com

To: sandydoc@zmail.net

Dear Doctor Bashir,

I saw your post on the message board, just wanted to reconnect. I have a subject here with one of the new vision type. I like the proposed name. Just curious as to the psych profile, I’m trying to build a case for Archon Theory using this one as support. Here’s my subject's profile line. 

Age: 46 

Sex: F

Ethnicity: Arabic

Country of Origin: Morocco

Occupation: Medical researcher

Attachment: FT_psych.pdf

The psych profile she attached was mostly correct, but it had been checked by Thinkers to make sure it didn’t give away too much. Her alias, Fatima Tabib was, on paper, a medical researcher for UCLA Berkeley. It was more or less her real identity, or what it had been, though she lived a rather double life now. 

Before then, Fatoumata met with her Thinker group, for more of their thorough evaluations and analysis of her new powers. She could indeed manipulate plant life to a degree, but that wasn’t what she was good at. 

The standard gamut of Vision Holder powers were on display, from being able to send out blasts of energy, to forming a shield, to providing healing. But there was something else, something new.

Mental Manipulation. 

Fatoumata had become something of an empath. Less when she was awake, but she could now lucid dream, and specifically enter into the dreams of others. Even more, she could put people into a deep sleep, and shape their dreams. It was somewhat limited, she couldn’t puppet people and her ability to put them to sleep required focus and a calm subject, but she was rapidly discovering ways to make people drowsy. 

She could also talk to plants and animals. Plants were easy, but Fungi was incredibly simple for her to talk to. Mostly with the plants, it was listening to their songs, or their desires, as well as asking them to grow in certain patterns. They usually complied, but only if Fatoumata was polite and respectful. 

As for animals, lower-order animals were somewhat difficult, but higher-order animals were much easier. For now, it was only the ability to tell what they wanted and communicate her desires. She couldn’t compel the animals to do as she wished, only request it. Some listened, some didn’t. The easiest animals to follow her directions so far were dogs, pigs, and parrots, but that was likely simply because they were social animals, and in the case of dogs, predisposed to do as she said regardless. 

Cats were the most annoying because they clearly understood her, but would frequently do exactly the opposite just to be contrarian. 

Vision Holders, but with Master Powers that didn’t just involve constructs. A frightening thought, especially since Fatoumata was not alone. 

Her first email to Dr. Bashir took a few days to be responded to, but after that, they had frequent correspondence on a regular basis. Shockingly, after only a few weeks, Bashir received his own Vision, and confirmed the reports: He had heard the voice of a young girl, speaking in Arabic with an Iraqi accent. 

The language wasn’t important. People always reported hearing the words in their native tongue and accent. That was one reason it had taken so long to realize that people were hearing the voice of the Raiden Shogun when they received an Electro Vision, and the voice of Venti when they received an Anemo one. 

Just like it had with the Electro and Anemo Vision Holders, a consistent psychological profile emerged for Dendro Visions: They were dreamers. They had a love of learning and knowledge and were often considered wise beyond their years, even if they were young. Most of them somehow felt as though they were held captive in some fashion, whether it be in a dead end job, a relationship, or literally in prison (the spate of political prisoners in various authoritarian regimes who received Visions was most interesting), but above all, one trait was shared.

They were reckless altruists. Most were optimists, some were cynics, but all were so self-sacrificing that it was a serious detriment to their own well-being. What that said about Fatoumata amused her to no end. 

Maddeningly, Fatoumata and the rest of the research community had absolutely no success at tracking down the Dendro Archon. Even with all the resources of Cauldron at her fingertips, Fatoumata had zero success in tracking the Dendro Archon down. It was putting major holes in Archon Theory, as the Raiden Shogun had made herself painfully obvious from the very moment that Electro Visions had appeared, and while Venti had taken a bit longer, him appearing in the skies of Berlin and later Munich hadn’t been what one would call subtle. 

Instead, Fatoumata corresponded with her contacts, especially Dr. Bashir. It was pleasant to talk to someone who shared so many of her ideals. The young doctor was utterly dedicated to helping humanity, and especially parahumans. He didn’t know the true threat the world faced, but he was doing everything he could to increase the store of human knowledge and share it with others, the better to treat his parahuman patients. 

The good doctor had questions, and some of them Fatoumata could answer. Whether that was her own research into Dendro abilities, or the current postulations on Archon Theory. Bashir had been initially hesitant to recognize this as an explanation for Visions, but some time in December he became an adherent. 

The search for the source of Visions continued, but of one thing, Fatoumata was absolutely certain: They could no longer continue this fight as though they would lose. 

It had been some months since Alexandria had been summoned to a meeting by Doctor Mother, but she couldn’t recall ever meeting her under her cover identity as a Parahuman Researcher at UCLA. In fact, to the best of Alexandria’s knowledge, up until now, the identity of Dr. Fatima Tabib had never existed as much more than a paper trail. 

The office she found herself in was far from the bare spartan affair that Alexandria would have expected. Instead, there were pictures of nature, photos of “Fatima” at Oxford University, and woven cloth wall hangings of a distinctly sub-saharan African style. Which was slightly suspicious, as “Fatima” was from Morocco, not the Ivory Coast. 

“Ah, good morning, Rebecca,” Doctor Mother said, looking up from one of her ever-present notebooks, her laptop next to her and a cup of coffee in her hands. “Croissant? I had Contessa bring them from Paris.” 

That was a surprise. Doctor Mother was always so strict about using Cauldron resources sparingly, and only when it would advance their goals. Fresh croissants from France were lovely, but not something she’d have ever expected. Alexandria looked to Wyatt, but he just shrugged and took two, along with some cheese, cream, and fresh berries from the tray out on the table. 

After a moment's consideration, Alexandria did the same. Far be it from her to complain about something that wasn’t donuts. 

Contessa was sitting in the corner, knees tucked up under her chin as she curled in an overstuffed armchair, biting her nails and reading one of those Japanese novels, a picture of a train traveling among the stars on the cover.

“Morning!” Wyatt said cheerfully around a mouthful of food, sending out a spray of crumbs that Contessa blocked by holding up a napkin even as he spoke.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Doctor Mother chided, even as Eidolon strode in, dressed in his civilian identity with a leather jacket and sweatpants, sunglasses obscuring his features. 

He glanced at the breakfast, and his eyebrows rose. “Well damn, are we on a health kick? I thought I’d have to eat cold jerky again.”

“There are energy drinks in the cooler under the table, David,” Doctor Mother said, nodding to a red cooler. 

“Uh, thanks,” David said, blinking and removing his shades and tucking them into his jacket pocket. He closed the door behind himself and grabbed a tray with a croissant, fruit, and cheese, along with a Red Bull. “Thought you survived only on coffee and sugar.”

“That was when I was only planning on living through the next few years, then dying gloriously. I have adjusted my outlook,” Doctor Mother stated firmly. 

This time, even Wyatt choked on his croissant, while Alexandria sputtered on her coffee. Contessa looked up, a vague smile on her face, then went back to reading again. 

“That’s… good. Why the sudden burst of optimism?” David asked suspiciously, not sitting nor eating, but instead staying on his feet and staring at Doctor Mother.

“You know perfectly well why, David. You were there, after all,” Doctor Mother said calmly, and touched the emerald Vision hanging from a woven fiber necklace. 

“So, you think we can really do this now?” Wyatt asked, not bothering to hide his obvious enthusiasm. 

“That is irrelevant. If we are to win, we must live and fight as though our victory is inevitable. And at the same time, we must plan for what comes after. After all, without hope, how can we truly strive for victory with our utmost?” Doctor Mother asked in rhetorical tones.

“That’s not what we agreed on. We put everything on the line to win, because doing anything less, sparing a moment’s consideration for anything after, could lead to our defeat,” Alexandria pointed out, and David nodded grimly in agreement. 

“I have come to see this is a flawed perspective,” Doctor Mother stated. “We must be willing to risk it all and commit any taboo in order to triumph because the fate of humanity is at stake. But if we give no thought to the future, we deny ourselves a potent weapon: Hope.” 

“Hope won’t put down Endbringers, much less Scion,” David pointed out. 

“But high morale will. It’s a force multiplier,” Wyatt argued. 

“That is true,” Alexandria agreed reluctantly, and after a moment of scowling, David jerked a nod as well. 

Nodding, Doctor Mother picked up her notebook. “In regards to that, I have reconsidered other things. Rebecca?” 

“Yes?”

“We need to begin your campaign for President, and the repeal of NEPEA-5.”

Despite her heart thundering in her ears, Alexandria thought she could have heard a pin drop. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” 

“I have reconsidered my position, and had Contessa evaluate the situation thoroughly. The risks are worth the rewards,” Doctor Mother stated in calm tones. 

“And how exactly is having one of our hardest hitters trapped behind a desk supposed to help us prevent the goddamn apocalypse?” Eidolon demanded hotly. 

“Sit down and eat, dear. You’re hungry and not thinking rationally,” Doctor Mother told him. 

Eidolon opened his mouth, but Doctor Mother shot him a look. “I can tell you haven’t been eating properly. One of the benefits of my new Vision. Eat. And enjoy it. Have you not heard the saying, ‘Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow, you may die?’”

“Who the hell are you and what did you do with Doctor Mother?” David demanded, but he did sit down. 

Doctor Mother was quiet, which Alexandria thought meant she wasn’t going to answer, only for her to hold up her vision. “You can call me Fatoumata, or Doctor Fatoumata if you must. That was my birth name. Here, at least, in private, you may use it.”

That got Alexandria to lean forward herself. “You’ve changed. Greatly.”

“You never knew me before I’d already had years to process the realization that the world was going to end,” Doctor Mother, no, Fatoumata, said, her eyes taking on a distant expression. “This is what I was like when I was much younger. Inspired to save the world. I thought I’d research the cure to AIDS or Malaria. Instead… instead I found something much worse to treat.” 

Alexandria glanced at Contessa, who nodded, setting aside her book if only to stuff her mouth with grapes. “It’s true. She was a lot more chipper when I first met her. Before it all sank in after we killed a god.”

“The Entities aren’t gods,” David snapped. “They can be killed.”

Contessa just shrugged. “Call them what you like. But they can be killed, and we can win. Becky becoming president is a good way to do it. I’ve mapped out the entire campaign…”

And then Contessa and Fatoumata began to lay out their entire plan for Rebecca Costa-Brown to become the next president of the United States, and to increase the number of available parahumans at the same time, while doing away with both the Nemesis Program and the Case 53s. 

Though what they’d come up with as an alternative somehow felt much, much worse. 

The days after the meeting were a blur. There were a thousand things to do normally, and now Rebecca Costa-Brown had to reach out to the democratic party (Contessa projected that a woman with Hispanic heritage would resonate with Democratic Voters better) along with a dozen other things, like speaking with the media to make noises about her prospective campaign. It was exhausting but gratifying. She’d understood when Contessa and Doctor Mother had shot down her proposal months earlier, but to have it come back now? It felt like madness. 

Her phone rang, and Alexandria glanced at the caller ID before picking it up. “Yes, Hero?”

“Hey, beautiful!” the chipper voice of her boyfriend said over the line. “You’ve been working too hard lately. I got us some takeout. Meet me on top of  Mount Baldy in 10 minutes. Or later if you don’t mind your pasta being cold.” 

Rolling her eyes, Alexandria hung up the phone, then glanced at her desk. She sighed, but stood up and adjusted her blouse. “I’m heading out, I’ll be back in tomorrow,” she told her secretary, who nodded amicably and waved goodbye to her. It was early, only 6:12, but there was no harm in joining Wyatt for a meal. She could always come back later. Most of the ten minutes was spent getting changed out of her civvies into Alexandria, then a short hop up to the top of the nearby peak. 

It was still winter, so the air was chill and devoid of hikers in the brisk February air. Finding Wyatt wasn’t hard, especially since he had gone to all the bother of not just setting up picnic blanket, but an entire tent, with several drones hovering around for security. Amused at his antics, Alexandria stepped inside, doffing her helmet and shaking out her hair once she was within. 

“Welcome, Madame, to the finest of dining establishments!” Wyatt said with a wide grin, gesturing to the table. Alexandria’s eyebrows rose and a grin spread across her face: She’d expected a couple of plastic boxes with fettuccine, but instead, there was real silverware and fine porcelain, lit candles, and a bucket of snow with two wine bottles chilling in it, along with silver service trays with the lid on them. 

“You didn’t need to go through all the trouble,” Alexandria said, though honestly, this was exactly what she’d needed. She sighed happily as Wyatt popped the cork out of a bottle of her favorite Napa Valley Red, and poured it into her glass. 

“For tonight, we start with a light Caesar salad with fresh greens, and hot cream of asparagus soup,” Wyatt told her. He was dressed in his outfit as Hero, though he had a couple of little drones hovering about with little black bowties glued on to their fronts to pluck the lid off the trays. 

The soup was excellent, as was the salad, hearty food after a long day's work. Wyatt chattered away, mostly about various things that Alexandria tuned out. 

“So, ready for the big move?” he asked, and Alexandria blinked at him. 

“Hmm?”

“To the White House! It’s traditional for the President to reside there, you know,” Wyatt said with a chuckle. 

Alexandria blushed but shook her head. “I suppose not.” She glanced down at her half-empty glass, peering at her reflection in the red liquid. “I haven’t thought about all the mechanics of it. I’m preparing for the run, making preparations to hand off duties to you as head of the PRT, and to David as the new head of the Protectorate, but…” She swallowed. That would mean…

“Thinking of leaving me behind?” Wyatt asked softly, reaching out to take her hand and squeeze. 

She grimaced, but looked up. “We always knew this would require sacrifices, Wyatt.”

“Yeah. But Doc’s right. We need hope. And you know what? Us? That’s not something I’m willing to sacrifice,” Wyatt said.

Then, he slid out of his chair, dropping to one knee, as a drone flew around, depositing a small black velvet box into Wyatt’s hand. Alexandria felt her heart stop, and felt like a foolish girl as her hands flew to her face as she sucked in a sharp gasp in what had to be the most stereotypical thing she could have done. 

“I’ve always wanted to be your Hero of Alexandria,” Wyatt said softly. “Rebbecca Costa-Brown, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

While a lot of people’s minds literally went blank, in the case of Alexandria, her’s went more figuratively blank. Thanks to her Thinker powers, she processed information at a speed comparable to her enhanced movement capabilities, which meant she could think hundreds of times faster than the average human. She also was something of an empath, able to sense the emotions of the people around her by reading their body language far more accurately than most. 

And at this moment, all her processing power and ability to read emotions told her one thing: Wyatt loved her deeply, and currently, he was utterly terrified. Not of her, he’d never been afraid of her despite the gap in their physical abilities, but that she’d reject him. 

Not only was that something she could never do, but all of Alexandria’s Thinker abilities along with her own human emotions led her to a single answer, one that was completely at odds with her supposed goal of saving the world in so many ways. 

“Yes,” Alexandria gasped, slowly lowering her left hand. “Yes. I… I never thought… that I… that we…”

She hiccuped and giggled as Wyatt slid the ring onto her finger, and she held it up admiringly. It fit perfectly. A tasteful platinum band with a small set of gemstones. Not too ostentatious, but still lovely. “You made it yourself, didn’t you?”

“I had a jeweler help me, but I made the gems myself. Harder than diamond, and less prone to shattering. Perfect for punching Endbringers,” Wyatt joked, getting to his feet and shaking like a leaf on the wind. Then he pulled her into a kiss, and even Alexandria’s Thinker abilities shorted out for a few blissful moments. 

Later, back in their bedroom, Alexandria lay snuggled up against Wyatt’s chest, examining her new ring in the light  of the candles they’d lit, her fingers playing with his curly bond chest hair. “How is this all going to work?”

“We’ll figure it out. Though I do propose one thing. Well, aside from proposing to you,” Wyatt quipped.

Alexandria glanced at him, fighting off a grin at the lame pun, and he continued, “I take your name. Wyatt Costa-Brown has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“That’s… rather unusual. Though I suppose I can’t really take your name,” Alexandria admitted. 

He nodded. “Yeah, but I get to be the first First Gentleman, and that’s pretty cool, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll open a library or something.”

“Or a gaming store. You won’t shut up about that stupid new game,” Alexandria groaned. 

“What? Genius Invocation TCG is-”

“Shhh. Not tonight,” Alexandria told him, then climbed on top of him, grinning down lasciviously at her new fiance. She wouldn’t get tired of thinking of that any time soon. “We’ll have to have a big wedding, you know. A complete media circus.”

“I’ll do my best to suffer through it. Eidolon is going to be insufferable,” Wyatt teased. “But I think I can tolerate it, for you.”

A few short days later, it was time for the first step of Alexandria’s path to power. It was only January of 2003, but now was the time to begin making changes. She called a big press conference, even going so far as to invite Legend and certain others of the protectorate. 

“Good afternoon,” Rebecca Costa-Brown said to the assembled press. “I’ve called you here today to speak to the American people.”

Cameras flashed and the reporters poised to spring, but Alexandria looked straight into the cameras. “For ten years, you’ve known me as Director Rebecca Costa-Brown, the civilian head of the PRT and liaison to the Protectorate. On this, the tenth anniversary of the founding of the Protectorate, we live in a very different world. When we were created, Parahumans were still a relatively new phenomena, with capes only really taking the stage a scant few years earlier.”

“Now, a generation has grown up in a world where superhuman powers are the norm. We’ve seen the rise of the Endbringers, and now, the Archons, and even the first words of Scion, the first Parahuman. We now live in a world where the average American has been made to feel small, stripped of their own power.”

Alexandria looked out at the reporters, and spoke the words Contessa had given her. “No more. Today, I give the power back to the people. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

Next to her, Legend slowly removed his domino mask, while Hero took off his visor and smiled at the cameras. The sharp intake of breath was audible even over the mad clatter of camera shutters. 

“My name,” Legend said slowly. “Is Keith Thompson. I’ve a husband, and a small son, who is probably watching this with his friends at school and telling them ‘I told you so.’”

“And I’m Wyatt! My last name was Baronski, but it’s going to be Costa-Brown before too long!” Hero said brightly. 

Even knowing what he was going to say, Alexandria flushed slightly at that, then took out a helmet from the lectern, which caused an even louder stir than before. “And you know me as Alexandria. I’ve worked to protect and serve the American people my every waking moment since I received my powers, but I lied as I did it. As such, effective immediately, I will be resigning as head of the PRT. I’ll still serve as a member of the Protectorate, but I’ll be stepping back from a leadership role.”

“I know many of you will have questions: At this time, many members of the Protectorate will be revealing their identities to the public. This was a practice that heroes such as Brandish and Manpower embraced, and one that we’re going to be encouraging, at least for full protectorate members. For the Wards, we’ll still encourage them to retain a secret identity until they come of age.”

“Now,” Alexandria said, setting her helmet on the lectern before her and looking around. “Questions?”

The room erupted with noise, and she forced herself not to smile. 

Phase one was complete. Now, to ride out the storm. 

Author’s Note:

Next chapter is the time skip that’s been coming, because it’s time to wish Nahida a very happy birthday. 

I hope someone brought cake. 

PHILO: I wonder who’s going to be best man? And I wonder if Venti is going to crash the wedding party? Ooh! Hangover parody? Where Venti is Chow?

OCTOBER: No, you didn’t hear the slight squeal that I definitely didn’t make, okay!? The couple isn’t gay enough for me to do that! (she lied as naturally as she breathed)

COG: I eagerly await the slap fight between the divine god-empress and the shady president-elect on top of a giant robot. “Don’t fuck with this director!”