“I’ve never even heard of a meta like this,” Scott said. “They’re not a telepath?”
“This power is kind of like … it’s a weird strain of powers, I guess,” I said. “Do you remember that girl Athena?”
“The one who died when the Century mercs hit the dorms, right?” Scott frowned. “When Breandan—”
“Yeah,” I said, cutting him off. “She was an Athena-type. She had the ability to influence the mind in directions of … I don’t know, Janus called it working the ‘better angels of our nature.’ She could stimulate the brain toward arts and goodness, or something. I don’t pretend to understand how it works, but I think Ares types work like that, but in the areas of violence and nastiness.”
“So they take out anyone with a will to do violence, and then what?” Reed asked.
“Kill all the sheepdogs and you’ve got a herd without any defense,” Scott said.
“And the world falls right into your grasp, no muss, no fuss,” I said. “Without any metas left to oppose them and with everyone who might be willing to take up arms against them impaled on their own swords, Century rules the world and can remake it in their image.”
It got quiet for a minute. “That’s a lot of dead bodies,” Reed said.
“Probably,” I said. “But Sovereign’s always said it’d be a so-called better world. And it’s ‘better’ because all that tendency to harm each other would be wiped out good and proper. The survivors would get to live with Sovereign’s axe hanging over them—step out of line and you catch the blade across the back of your neck.”
“You can’t tell me people wouldn’t fight back,” Reed said.
“Maybe,” I said. “But if you think about it, he’s perfectly positioned to cut them off at the knees every time. All your soldiers and cops are gone, all your civilians who’d fight back are dead. It leaves you with the willingly ruled.”
“And this is a better world how?” Scott asked. “You’re killing all the people who might maybe possibly do harm all at once instead of letting those who will do harm do it. That’s gotta be like a hundred to one ratio, for all the people who might do violence to those who actually do violence.”
“I don’t know, I didn’t stick around for the grandiose explanation of the virtues of his final solution to the world’s violence problem,” I said. “I just know the weapon Century means to use and how it works.”
“And as for how we stop it?” Scott asked as we emerged from the tunnel into HQ.
“Well, they are having a meeting of all hands in the next couple days,” I said as I made for the staircase. “If we can find that—”
“We can storm in there and get ourselves killed all at once,” Reed said sarcastically, “letting the remainder of Century carry out their plans unimpeded by any pesky distractions.”
I shook my head wearily. “I’m working on a plan.”
I could feel Reed’s gaze on the back of my neck as I climbed the stairs. “And how’s it going so far?”
“So far it’s comprised of ‘kill them all’ … and that’s about it.”
“The Wolfe school of tactical engagement,” Reed said, voice still laden with irony. He paused, and his tone dropped. “In this case, I actually like it.”
We emerged into the fourth floor bullpen and I realized with surprise that the sun was setting. Had it already been another whole day? That was fast. I glanced toward the conference room. “How’s Harper doing?”
“She seemed to take it all mostly in stride,” Scott said. “As I understand it, she’s got the drone over us right now, keeping a watch in case we need it.”
“Surveillance state,” Reed muttered.
“Hm,” I said. “We probably will need it at some point, if we can get a fix on the location of this meeting. Did J.J. manage to scrape anything off Weissman’s laptop?”
“Nothing helpful,” Reed said. “Seems like this meeting might have been called after he died.”
“It’s election time in the Evil League of Evil,” I quipped. “I wonder who the frontrunner is to be the next Bad Horse?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Scott said.
“You look tired,” Reed said as we came to a stop outside my office.
“I can’t imagine why,” I said. “Did we do that freeway battle today or yesterday?”
“Today,” Scott said. “I think.”