Orb Weaver: Storm, talks and meals.

I returned to the PRT HQ with the Wards. We had to wait our turn, as most Protectorate Heroes needed to get back before the Truce ended and most villains, those willing to use Strider, were also eager to get home before the Truce ended, to shore up their territories, or just relax before things went back to normal.

There was a sense of excitement in the air as I returned. I could understand why. Granted, it was unlikely this system of prediction would work with the Simurgh, and Behemoth gave abundant warning of his attack—but even one out of three Endbringers was a tremendous boon.

But now it was time to get back to work. Normally the Truce lasted 72 hours after cessation of Endbringer recovery operations, which was assumed to be 48 hours after an attack. Granted, relief operations went on for sometime longer, but this was the period most assumed you might find an injured villain or hero, so the Truce specifically applied.

Missing, especially due to Endbringer activity, would have the 72 hour Truce period commence upon their recovery, a development stemming from a villain who was buried in a Behemoth attack and not found until a week later.

There was another reason for the jubilation—The Bay had missed the bullet. Now there were weeks of freedom from worry, before the growing sense of “will it be our turn?” would start as the next Endbringer attack date neared.

But now I was meeting Dad. He’d be waiting for me at a bookstore, one owned by the PRT and I would walk there through a tunnel, changing into civilian clothing on my way.

When I came out of the bathroom, walking into the bookstore, I paused. Dad was in the front, reading a magazine.

A special edition.

      DEFYING LEVIATHAN

With the Goddamned picture on the front. Kanshi and I, looking like we were defying Leviathan instead of panicking and trying not to die.

There was a full spin rack of them, next to another rack full of some other shots, Alexendria hitting Leviathan, Armsmaster stabbing the Endbringer with some kind of weapon that cut deeply into his skin, Eidolon trapping the Endbringer in a cauldron of fire…

But none of those had to fear what I had to fear. I walked up to Dad.

“Hi Dad,” I said. I looked around and opened my mouth. Dad had also looked around to ensure nobody was in hearing distance before he spoke.

“Taylor I remember your promise, which you have… not really held to, but so help me God, if the next words out of your mouth is ‘an Endbringer isn’t a parahuman…’”

I closed my mouth.

Well. It had been worth the try. Dad shook his head and sighed. “Do you have everything?”

“Yes.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Not… much. They had food supplies, but so many people needed them…” And I hadn’t been avoiding them. Not much. But it seemed wrong to eat the food they needed, before going home to my house, while they would go to emergency camps, waiting to see how much of their lives they could recover.

“We’ll get something to eat.”

I nodded, waiting until we were in Dad’s pickup truck.

“Taylor, why?” He asked. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I saw—they played the video!”

I didn’t say anything for a moment. Once again, I pulled away from my bugs. I could keep calm, make people think I wasn’t bothered, but Dad deserved more than that.

“I didn’t want to, Dad,” I said. “The evacuation was going well, better than ever, but once Leviathan started moving in, he was so damned fast. The shelter we had been directed to was breached, but I figured if we moved the people to higher ground, they could survive.”

“How did that end up with you shooting Leviathan?”

“He moved into our area. I… Had an idea. I would shoot, but Glory Girl would fly me away, he’d chase us, but we could stay out of his reach. It was…” I closed my hand into a fist. “A stupid idea. Leviathan isn’t an animal. He charged the building, got impaled, but then he didn’t move, made it look like he was stuck, until he lured Glory Girl in, and then I didn’t have any hope. I… I thought I was going to die, but Kanshi managed to get us both in a bubble.” I noticed that Dad’s hands were white on the wheel. “I thought we were still going to die. If not for Alexandria, we would have died.” I shook my head and repeated, putting just a little bit of my tells into my bugs so I stopped trembling. “He was so Goddamned fast.”

Dad stopped at the light, watching as people crossed. He took a deep breath. Then exhaled. A deeper breath.

“I’ve never seen you so scared,” he finally said. “Not after the Master. Not after Madison and the E88.”

“I never understood, not until today,” I quietly said. “The Truce, everything around it, why even fucking Hookwolf would be able to walk into the PRT and never worry about being arrested. It was like a natural disaster that thought, that was actively trying to make things worse.” Over two thousand civilians. Over twelve hundred sailors… And one of the best fights on record. There was something obscene about putting those words together.

“And later?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m banned from Simurgh fights, save for remote links.” Thinkers, which was what I was listed as, were just too dangerous to risk falling to the False Angel. “Behemoth, my skills… Well, I could help but the time he provides for evacuations mean that they already have set plans. The PRT will probably adapt them to Leviathan if the predictions continue to hold up.”

Dad took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose—“

“Over thirty-thousand, Dad, that’s how many we got out,” I said. “The predictions were at most 15,000 with the time they had.” I shook my head. “Please don’t ask me to decide my life outweighs all of theirs.”

“Can I ask you to think up a way to put Leviathan in the ground?”

I couldn't help it. I laughed. “If I could, I would. Could you imagine what that would look like on a resume?” Dad laughed along with me.

“You probably could get people to waive the two years required experience,” he said.

The image was silly, but it was better than remembering those four eyes looking out at me across the flooded terrain.

Dad decided to stop at a steak place. Normally it was a bit expensive, but Dad declared that ‘ my Daughter is alive’ was a good reason to celebrate.

Naturally, I agreed.

The Bay Steak Haus had been a standby since the days before the Empire and the owner was ethnic German… Who had once physically kicked the shit out of an E88 ganger and threw him out of the place. How he survived, some people wondered, rumors ranging from him being a secret parahuman to Eidolon dropping by to let the E88 know the place was under his protection.

I had a simpler answer. Sometimes you didn’t need to be a parahuman. You just had to have a line in the sand, along with generations of Brocktonites remembering you to stand up against the bad guys.

If one thing my time as Orb Weaver and the Investigator proved, it was anyone talking about “just normal people” were fools.

I hadn’t been here since I’d been young, and I looked around, now with the eyes of the Investigator. Pictures, art, German culture…

But not Nazi culture. Oskar Schindler shared a picture space with Magnus Hirschfeld, and other famous humanitarians, scientists, artists.

Another ordinary man who refused to let his legacy be tainted by the E88 and its fellow travelers.

It was a good place to eat.

“How is your tutoring class going?” Dad asked.

“Fine, although I think Aisha…” I looked around. “May be missing a few classes, if her brother has anything to say about it.”

“He’s getting gray hair as well?” Dad asked.

“She’s… A bit energetic,” I replied.

Dad tried not to choke on his coffee. “I bet she is. Should I send Mr. Laborn a sympathy card?”

Then I had to fight choking. “I… Think… You know, why not?” I said. “Just let me know when you’re sending it.”

We both laughed, and then started on mundane stuff. There was more work for the Dockworker’s Union , mostly oriented around the damaged parts of the city from the factory explosion. There might be long-term work there, from FEMA loan guarantee. Also, Dad mentioned that the E88 seemed to have withdrawn from the area.

Which was interesting. I would look into it later.

For now, it was time to eat and talk.

The only odd thing happened at the end of the meal. Dad asked for the check and the waiter shook his head. “It’s already been paid, sir,” he said.

Dad blinked. “It has?”

“Yes sir.”

I glanced over at the cash register, and a middle-aged Asian man with a family was paying his tab.

He met my glance, and smiled, before he bowed slightly in our direction.

I suppose I should just assume everyone I meet knows who the Investigator is.

Still, it had been a good lunch. And I would make Dad happy, because I’d spend the next few days in. The Truce hadn’t run out yet, and…

I could definitely use a little bit of rest.

Maybe some light reading. I had about forty books I wanted to get to.