Chapter 363

The reporter stood with a microphone in her hand. The wind whipped around her once and she held a hand up to shield her eyes as she turned slowly to follow the movement over her. The camera panned up to follow her field of view. A Pandora Committee aircraft was descending from the air nearby. The backdrop was the city of Cairo. The light tan of the buildings against the blue sky painted a peaceful image contrasted by the slowly rising smoke from one direction. The camera panned back to the reporter with the coiling smoke just over her shoulder.

“As you can see, the Pandora Committee is already moving forces into the City of Cairo. This is the scene across the Middle East as nations that had been conquered by the now deceased Gilded King Erebus are occupied,” the reporter said, her eyes fixed in a serious expression. “The core governments of the majority of these nations had been completely dismantled under his control and replaced with his aristocratic regime. Institutions that had stood for centuries erased in a matter of just a few years.”

Another, sharper gust of wind fluttered the woman’s hair as a figure flew overhead. The woman turned as the camera followed the silhouette before panning back down to her. “Pandora Heroes have already begun re-establishing order within most of the freed territories with local heroes taking the lead,” the woman continued. “The Pandora Committee has already released a statement indicating that given the history of instability within the region and as well as the history of external abuses by foreign powers, the Committee will be taking a direct role in establishing order.”

She turned and pointed down towards the street. The camera panned again and vehicles were making their way down the street bearing the logo of the Pandora Committee. A single figure sat on top of the vehicle in what looked like a set of gray combat armor. “You can see a transport vehicle there loaded with troops and supplies accompanied by a Pandora Hero. This is the scene across the Middle East right now as the lead heroes of each nation seize power supported by their Pandora representative.” The camera pans back to the woman. “The representatives from these nations had been restricted from meeting with the committee before and during the Erebus occupation, so the upcoming weeks will signal a restoration of communication between the Middle East and Pandora.” She nodded to the camera. “This is Trish Sawyer, live in Cairo.”

The image changed to a pair of reporters sitting at a table with the symbol of the Pandora Committee set against the symbol of the UN on the large screen behind them. The man on the left put his hands on the table and fixed his eyes on the camera. “Despite the quick response and use of local forces to reassert stability in the territories, a significant outcry has risen from within the United Nations in response to the Pandora Committee’s action.”

To his right, the image of an older woman with short white hair and piercing eyes standing at a podium raised a finger. The words ‘Selene Galanis, UN Representative for Greece’ hung beneath her name. “This is an unconscionable abuse of power by the Pandora Committee. The Committee is a branch of the United Nations, not an independent organization. Nor does it have the unilateral authority to determine statehood!” She slapped her palm onto the podium. “It is this body’s responsibility to handle situations like this one!”

The man at the desk turned his head back to the camera. “Similar reactions have begun to mount within the international organization that has seen diminished influence since the rise of its subsidiary organization. Some nations have even begun reprioritizing their choices for Pandora representatives over their UN representatives while other UN representatives have been recalled entirely to be sent to Pandora instead,” the reporter continued.

The woman next to him picked up where he left off without missing a beat. “Other organizations and public figures have applauded the Committee's swift response and decisions concerning self-governance and local power,” she said and gestured as the the screen to their right changed from the furious Selene Galanis to a thin and severe looking man with a thin-lipped smile and faint red tint to his skin. The words ‘Lucian DuCast, French Presidential Nominee’ hung beneath his name as he gripped his own podium.

“This is a natural evolution of things,” he said evenly. “The United Nations has seen increasing irrelevance for decades now. It was only a matter of time for change. The Flash saw to that. The Pandora Committee represents the kind of power and leadership necessary to push us forward into the future. I look forward to seeing a more peaceful Middle East under the protective eye of heroes.” He stood up straight and crossed his arms behind his back. “I am announcing an addition to my platform. Should I be elected, I will push France into the future as well, by urging the Senate to withdraw from the UN and move our focus to the Pandora Committee.”

The woman shifted once in her seat before focusing on the camera again. “This all comes on the tail end of the disastrous events of two days ago when Gilded King Erebus went berserk in the middle of Cairo and was put down by a strike team of Heroes. Questions still remain as to why the conquering Supervillain lashed out. However, with the disappearance of Erebus’ family, wealth, treasures, and the brief presence of Ishtar overseeing the fighting, the international community has put the blame on the Queen of Villains for the sudden escalation of violence and subsequent death toll.”

The screen flicked off and Webster let out a sigh, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his temples. He squinted at his reflection and rose to his feet slowly, crossing his arms as he paced his cramped office. There were papers everywhere, some pinned to the walls with threads lined between them. His desk was a mess of organized chaos with the occasional spider flitting between papers as he read them over through their eyes. He rubbed his chin slowly and turned back to look at the dark screen.

“...why make that move now? Erebus was still useful,” he murmured. His eyes narrowed as he walked towards the screen and stood there, tapping his foot in deep thought.

Well that’s simple. It wasn’t her move.

Webster’s lips formed a thin line as the voice sprung into his head. He turned away from the screen. “Zeus,” he grunted and walked over to the desk. “Explain.”

You saw the images of the end of the battle. Tell me, what did you see?

Webster narrowed his eyes and set his jaw tightly as he recalled the images. “She put an end to the fight, delivering the finishing blow. What’s your point?” he asked. Then his eyes narrowed a little more. “No, there was more to that scene.”

The heroes were wailing on Erebus but none of them were strong enough to kill him quickly. They demonstrated their strength, brought him down, and then she finished him. Does that sound like the kind of methods the woman who made First Wind’s last hours a living nightmare would use on an enemy?

“...she put him down,” Webster finally said. “It was a mercy killing.”

Precisely.

“Then it wasn’t her plan to begin with. She was just caught up in it,” Webster said with a frown. “I had reports that she and Erebus were on good terms, which made this whole situation seem strange. If there was a third party…” his jaw tightened. “...Otis.”

It does seem like the kind of thing he would orchestrate, destructive, cruel, and utterly disconnected from him.

Webster stopped at his desk and leaned against it. “It wasn’t him directly though. One of his agents. Otis was arriving in Norfolk when everything went down.”

Something to consider, I suppose. Does it matter? You don’t have the evidence you always seem so concerned about.

Webster’s eye twitched once and he set his jaw. “Don’t start this again old man. This isn’t your time anymore,” he ground out, even as a small part of him couldn’t help but concede the point. He exhaled and stepped back, his mind’s eye drifting through the many eyes he had active in his office. “A different perspective, then. What is she going to do next?”

Simple. Indulge herself and spoil those around her for a while. Lay low while she works on other angles of attack. Likely do something frivolous in order to keep herself in the public eye.

“Your evidence?”

It’s what I would do. I get the feeling that Sonya woman is something of a kindred spirit.

Webster scoffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fair enough,” he growled. “What does she do after that, then, if you know her so well?”

Kill Mimir or Lucian DuCast. Or both. Probably both. Yes, that’s what I would do.

“Mimir?”

You surmised that Mimir acquired his powers from Ishtar, correct?

“Yes.”

She made him with a purpose, an expectation, one he has systematically failed to meet and she is running out of her ‘Heralds’ to kill. Lucian DuCast or… what did you call him?

“Astaroth,” Webster ground out.

Ah, yes, a ridiculous name by the way, Astaroth was a rutting brute. Anyway, this ‘Astaroth’ is a public figure, well within sight, and locked to a specific area. Given that she hasn’t targeted him yet and what we know about Mimir’s organization…

Webster nodded, the pieces clicking together as he took another step back and scanned his room. “Yes, I see it now. She created Mimir and set him against Astaroth, but Mimir had other ideas. She got distracted with the other Heralds and left Mimir to his business. When he failed to deliver results and she ran out of targets…” he trailed off.

She’s turned her attention to France. 

Webster flicked his minds eye through dozens of documents in an instant, scratching at his chin as he searched before he found the memo he was looking for. “Lucian DuCast’s pre-election event is in a month.”

She will be there, and given her trajectory…

“She’ll kill him personally and publicly,” Webster agreed as he considered the various branching timeframes. His eyes narrowed and he exhaled. “I have a month to get her ready.”

And still find time to appease your woman. I’m sure you’ll manage.

Webster stiffened. “She’s not my-!” he clenched his fist and scowled at his reflection again before turning away and running his fingers through his dark hair. “Just be silent for a bit. It’s time to check in anyway.”

–

Clarity was terrifying. The constant itch of awareness that sank into the mind and churned thoughts before dispersing them like smoke. It was not as simple as being made whole again. The dark thoughts and memories lingered. Separate from her now, yes, in a way that she could observe them from the outside. Yet they had still been hers at one point in time. A terrible fact that she had to face during every waking moment. 

She opened her eyes as she pulled herself out of her deep meditation. Her emerald gaze casting over the interior of the room that had been provided for her. The easel sat off to the side with a pad of tearable painting paper set on it. She rose slowly to her feet and drifted over to it past the discarded works left scattered on the floor. Her hand slipped out of her robe and she picked up the brush before dabbing it once in the pink paint.

Two quick splotches, then the black paint. Sweeping lines, a button nose, and that wry smile. Long straight lines that curved slightly at the top, taking advantage of the white absence. She stepped back and admired the face for a moment, the glitter of drying paint, the hum in her head of soothing relaxation. She traced a finger over the thin line of that smile as the door opened behind her. She tilted her head lazily to the right and glanced over her shoulder. “Webster.”

“Qilin,” the young looking man said evenly, striding inside. He cast his gaze over the room and then to the easel. His eyes softened just a little before he met her stare. “You’re still painting her.”

“I don’t want to forget,” Qilin said and looked back at the art. “The face of the person I owe my mind to, and whom I fear most in this world.”

“Are you sleeping?” he asked.

“No.”

He paused in his steps towards her. “No? Why not?”

She shrugged lazily and shook her head. “There’s been no need. I feel… strong. Vigorous. All the time these days. It’s alarming but nice. It gives me more time to think about everything I’ve done and wish I could do…” she said quietly before turning to look at him. She raised a hand and a strand of Qilin hair lifted from her head, it turned from black to gold before swirling around her palm. It coiled up her finger and glowed brightly as she considered it thoughtfully. “My abilities have changed a bit as well. Amusing.”

He walked around her and squinted as something behind his eyes flickered. “You’re finding pleasure in smaller things now?”

Her breath hitched once and she glanced up at him, drawing herself out of her hyperfocus on the thread. “I-is that not a good sign? Am I regressing?”

He held up his hands in an appeasing gesture. “No, no, I’m just asking. It’s a good thing.”

She felt a tightness in her chest that she hadn’t notice form ease and he let out a shuddering breath, cupping her hand to the side of her face as she admired the gold thread again. “Well then, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Simply living is… incredible. Small wonders and changes just make it so much more interesting. Do you think my near-death had something to do with the change?”

His lips thinned as that color behind his eyes flashed again. “Yes but no.”

She glanced towards him and tiled her head. “Pardon?”

Webster took a deep breath. “I’ll let someone more knowledgeable in the topic explain,” he said and she furrowed her brows. Then her eyes went wide and her lips parted in shock as she felt a sudden, almost electric shift in the air. He closed his eyes and the color drained from his hair as if someone had poured bleach on his head. White hair ended in purple tips as he took low, deep breaths. His chest rose and fell slowly as something crackled behind his eyelids.

Then they snapped open and the young man… vanished. He stood up straighter, his chin tilting up as a smirk that was heartachingly familiar to her crossed his lips. A thin streak curved up just a bit. He flicked his white-purple hair and raised an eyebrow. “Please, young beauty, allow this king to explain everything.”