The influx of new heroes, Wards, and PRT personnel into Brockton Bay has created something of a headache for the local teams. Schedules had to be scrambled, accommodations arranged in haste, and public dissemination of information handled carefully to avoid causing a panic.

  At least, that was the plan.

  However, over the last few days, the city has gotten a lot more hectic. What the national PRT and Protectorate offices failed to account for, not to mention the additional government agencies that wanted their own people on the ground, was how the Brocktinites would take the change. The answer was: not well.

  Decades of neglect have led to a mentality of isolation and simmering resentment, which has since resulted in friction at practically every level. Despite the efforts of leadership, local departments are struggling with getting their staff to cooperate. Most of the cracks were still under the surface, but this won’t be the case for much longer.

  Already, ordinary people on the streets are treating the new heroes patrolling the streets with disdain. The announcements that reinforcements have finally arrived to alleviate the struggles of the beleaguered locals have been met with derision online.

  Confused by the flood of negative reception, the PRT set about to learn why this was happening. As it turns out, it all came down to the reasons given for the new additions to the Bay. No one was buying them.

  Based on surveys taken, both online and on the streets, have revealed that many knew why the rest of the country was suddenly taking an interest in their city. And instead of relief, all they felt was rage.

  Rage at how one Parahuman was able to justify so much aid, when they’ve needed help for so long. Anger at the arrangement’s perceived impermanence promised no real change or progress for most of the people living here. Most of all, the residents were fearful that the presence of so many government-sponsored capes would only make things worse. And that fear has turned to fury.

  Much of the problem could be attributed to the atypical nature of one Parahuman’s actions.

  The local PRT has done a lot to explain away Seraph’s uncanny behavior to the public. Defeating Lung made him seem like a hero, but just a day later, he was made out to be a villain. Even if he was never officially branded as such, the sheer scope of destruction caused by his clash with the local heroes marked him as a more menacing figure than he really was.

  And yet, he was undoubtedly instrumental in the Echidna incident’s miraculous conclusion, where, not only were the casualties minimal, but long-dead victims were revived to full health. There was simply no hiding that last part from the public, either. On top of that, he even cooperated during the debriefing.

  So now, no one can really say which way he fell on the hero-villain spectrum. He couldn’t even really be branded as a Rogue since he seemed to have no interest in monetary gain. The involvement of Tattletale of the Undersiders only served to muddy the issue even more.

  Regardless of the uncertainties surrounding the mysterious cape, however, the people of Brockton Bay have seemingly come to the conclusion that he was theirs. And that the new faces walking around in their streets were only there to take him away.

  A truly confounding development.

  Instead of the ordered and pacified city that the top brass expected, Dragon could only see a boiling cauldron as she flew over the Downtown air space. If nothing is done, there could be riots in the streets by next week. The villains regaining their confidence was only making matters worse, as clashes were now increasing in frequency.

  Collateral damage and disruption to daily life have become more common, once more, sharply contrasting the weeks of peace that came about following Seraph’s emergence. This only solidified his image as a deterrent in the minds of the city’s residents, making them increasingly deaf to official press releases offering reassurances.

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  The most maddening part is the persistent feeling in Dragon’s nonexistent gut that Seraph didn’t intend for any of this to happen. What footage she was able to capture of the young man painted a powerful, but well-meaning, individual who sees authority as a necessary evil, at best.

  Her woolgathering was cut short by her comms coming online.

  “Dragon, we have reports of a Seraph sighting near your location,” the PRT agent manning the console told her.

  This caused the Tinker to perk up and focus on her sensors.

  “Copy that, console,” she returned. “Do we have more specific details?”

  “Rooftop of the apartment building on Westland and Kirk.”

  Following the directions, she finally spotted the cape in his Darkness form. It would appear that he has been watching her, as well, as his face was following her suit.

  “I see him. Coming in to approach.”

  “Dragon, this is Armsmaster,” Colin spoke through the line. “Approaching your vector. Miss Militia, Dauntless, and Velocity are doing the same.”

  “Copy that, Armsmaster,” she replied, having now come close enough to hover over Seraph.

  Despite her current suit being smaller than others, it was still a massive configuration, about the size of a sedan. Landing on the apartment building would likely cause the roof to crack. Was this something he counted on?

  Before she could think about that further, the cape lifted off the ground, his gaze never leaving her suit. He then started floating to the side. Not to escape, clearly, but as an invitation. Once he saw her following his movement, the winged Parahuman sped up northward.

  “Dragon to all channels, Seraph is airborne. I’m following in his wake. Sending telemetries.”

  A series of confirmations followed, which the Tinker filed away. The speed at which they were going was slow, which confirmed her suspicion that the Trump wanted to talk. Upon passing over numerous ruined warehouses, she finally saw what is likely to be their destination.

  “Dragon to all channels, we appear to be heading towards the former Boat Graveyard.”

  She said former, because it’s now more like a lake of glassed sand and melted steel. The heat required to reduce the locally infamous landscape to such a state was simply mindboggling. True to her expectations, Seraph began to descend on the spot where her sensors detected multiple lifesigns. Upon closer inspection, her cameras revealed figures that she had only ever seen through photographs and video evidence.

  “All channels, just a heads up. It would appear that the Undersiders and the insect controller are on-scene, as well.”

  “Dragon, Director Piggot here,” a new voice spoke up urgently, cutting through the distressed murmurs from the others. “Confirm the presence of Swarm.”

  Ah, yes. They did end up settling on a name for the girl, haven’t they?

  “Yes, director. Same costume, same physical features. It’s her.”

  “Do they appear hostile?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. From their body language, they range from confident to anxious, but no indications of hostility.”

  “Approach carefully, Dragon. I’m bringing in the Chief-Director, as per her request.”

  This made the digital entity want to cry. Adding more people to the mix is bound to complicate this interaction. Especially if their suspicions about Swarm are true, thus giving her name a whole new dimension of meaning.

  Upon landing, Dragon felt her struts hit a solid, crystallized surface. This was just an errant thought, however, as the majority of her attention was on the gathered capes. According to records, these would be Grue, Hellhound, Regent, and Tattletale. Swarm stood close to Tattletale, while Seraph was firmly rooted halfway between Dragon and them.

  “Seraph, Undersiders,” she greeted the known factors before turning to the girl, “and Swarm. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

  “SWARM?!” the insect controller screeched.

  “Ha!” Tattletale laughed. “I told you this would happen. The PRT always comes up with the dumbest names!”

  “Shut up!” the girl shot back. “It’s not like you were any better! Skitter? Really?”

  “It fits your personality,” came the smug reply.

  “Girls!” Seraph suddenly barked. “I’m sure the PRT can accommodate a name change. Isn’t that right, Dragon?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” The Tinker didn’t lose anything by confirming the agency’s flexibility in changing names. More importantly, it was clear that some tension exists in this group dynamic. Could it be exploited?

  “See? There we go,” Seraph continued, settling Swarm somewhat. “In any case, that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

  “And what are we here to talk about?” Dragon asked while keeping track of her reinforcements’ locations.

  “We can get into the nitty-gritty when your pals get here,” he answered calmly. “For now, I’ll just say that I know Leviathan’s next target.” She could almost feel her servos seize up at the bomb he just dropped. “More importantly, I know when he will attack.”

  “Dragon, this is Chief-Director Costa Brown,” yet another voice came on the line. “You get us that information, do you understand? Whatever he wants, give it to him. We want that information.”

  …

  …

  …

  “Huh, that was easy,” the suspected Thinker said, a vulpine grin forming on her lips.