Chương 76: 75. By Any Means Necessary

"That car has definitely been following us," Peter says, glancing out the rear-view mirror.

"It's fine," Emily insists, keeping her eyes on the road as she drives.

"We pulled off the highway, and it followed us," Peter says.

"We took a random turn, and it followed us. It's following us. How is that fine?"

"I hate to say it, but I'm with Peter on this," Christine says.

"There are bad things that can happen to us that don't involve death."

"True, but most of those things still generally increase the likelihood of future death," Emily counters.

"Best I can tell, whoever's in that car isn't a threat to us."

"There's no way that someone intentionally following us in a nondescript car with tinted windows isn't intending to be a threat to us," Maria scowls.

"We're super wanted."

"Yeah but intending to be a threat and actually being a threat are two different things," Emily says.

"We might be super wanted, but most of y'all are super powerful. It's fine. I'll find a place to pull over, and we can chase 'em off or kick their ass."

"Wait, you want us to just confront them directly?" Christine asks.

"I guess you don't have to," Emily says, "but I need to pee, so we're pulling over either way." We have been driving for quite some time now, so I suppose that's fair. It's not an issue I have to worry about anymore, thankfully, but most of my friends don't have perfect control over their biological processes. Come to think of it, I'm probably lucky Blossom never accidentally peed herself back when she was first getting used to a human body.

"I very talented," she nods sagely. …Sure. Anyway, we're due for a break after the past six or so hours of driving. We've made it out of North Carolina and are now in Tennessee, though it'll still be a while until we get near alien territory, let alone find the exact colony that Peter belongs to. The trip has been long, and it's only going to get longer.

"…Wait, are you getting back on the highway?" Peter asks.

"I thought we were stopping."

"We want to stop somewhere that's both going to be basically empty and have a working bathroom," Emily says.

"A highway rest area will fit the bill. They'll end up losing us if they don't stop at the same time we do. Y'all can corner them while I piss."

"I mean, the rest of us need to pee, too," Christine reminds her.

"Then Julietta can take care of it," Emily groans.

"I'm sure she'd like to do it all by herself anyway."

"…I'm trying to be better about that," I say.

"It seems unlikely that things will end up as a fight, so if it's a talk, I can get them to wait for everyone, maybe?"

"Why's it unlikely to be a fight?" Ana asks.

"No domains," I answer.

"I just poked the car with mine. It's just normal humans. Two young men, probably soldiers, and an older man."

"They could be hiding it like I used to," Emily points out.

"Spreading themselves too thin to detect."

"Maybe," I concede.

"I'm a lot better at domain sensing than I used to be, but it's not impossible. I'll be careful."

"Just drive faster, Em," Peter groans.

"I have to use the bathroom, too." Twenty minutes later, Emily finally pulls over at an empty-looking rest stop, rushing out of the front seat the moment the keys are out of the ignition to power-walk toward the toilets. The rest of us slowly pile out after her, opening the back doors of the van to stretch our legs and wait for our turn. Sure enough, the same nondescript car pulls off at the exit we did, though it parks as far away from us as possible and none of its occupants exit to join the bathroom line.

Which is fine, honestly. If they're giving us the time to do it, we'll all get nice and ready before we head over to talk. Even I use the bathroom just to wash my hands and freshen up a bit before we begin to make our way over as a group. If these people really do know who we are, I imagine the knowledge that six superhumans are heading their way at once is enough to make them wish they had chosen to use the bathroom here after all.

"So if they try to escape, I'm thinking we have Blossom teleport Peter behind their car as they try to back out," I say when we're all about a hundred feet from their car.

"Eh, if they panic and step on the gas, I might end up killing someone in the back seat," Peter points out.

"The tyke can probably just lift the back wheels off the ground."

"We don't need Ana to hurt herself over this," I sigh.

"I guess I can just teleport into the car once we get close enough."

"I've got a better plan," Christine says.

"I take apart the entire car and force everyone in it to come to us, right now."

"Direct and effective! I like it," Peter grins.

"Seems needlessly aggressive when they haven't done anything to us yet," I frown.

"They've been stalking us," Christine disagrees, and then she goes ahead and does her suggestion, reaching out one hand and causing the car to burst into every direction at once, separated out into its constituent parts. Three of those parts happen to be entire living human people, and as part of the sorting effect of Christine's power, she opts to have them 'sorted' directly to us.

All three of them are in military uniforms: the two younger men are fully geared special forces operatives, and the older man is a colonel. In fact, he looks… familiar. Very familiar. Wait. This… this is the colonel that very nearly agreed to my offer of peace before Agnus Dei decided she'd rather kill all witnesses before letting that happen. The hell is he doing here? I guess I do recall Agnus Dei flying off with him after her little murder spree, but…

"Shit!" one of the special forces guys swears, bringing up his gun only for Peter to backhand it, completely deleting the front of his rifle.

"Bad dog," he says.

"No biscuit."

"Stand down, stand down!" the colonel snaps.

"Jesus. Which one of you is Seraphim?"

"Well I don't really go by that name anymore, but you're looking for me," I answer, shifting my face a couple times as proof.

"Why have you been following us, colonel? I doubt a man of your rank got put on tracking duty for a bunch of supervillains."

"Agnus Dei is plotting a coup," he states straightforwardly.

"Your group survived her twice. Even bloodied her a little. Your country needs you." I raise an eyebrow. Not at all what I expected, but y'know? That honestly checks out.

"Not to sound immodest, but the world needs me," I tell him.

"We have shit to do. Perhaps more relevantly, 'surviving Agnus Dei' does not mean 'beating her.' Not sure what you expect us to accomplish."

"Yeah, you might have noticed, but we're not in your chain of command anymore, old man," Peter agrees.

"We bailed for a reason."

"I'm not here to judge any of you for that," the colonel says.

"I'm just here to beg you to reconsider. Agnus Dei and her faction want you all dead anyway. We can help each other."

"And what 'help' do you want, exactly?" Emily asks, her arms crossed.

"…Whatever it takes," he says.

"That woman can't be allowed to continue. Anything I need to do to stop her, I'll do." Well damn, alright. I can't help but be suspicious, but being suspicious of people in uniform who seem reasonable is mostly a survival habit. He seems deadly serious here, and we are at odds with Ms. Dei, so… we may as well hear him out. I glance at Blossom and Maria, who both nod in agreement, then turn back to the colonel.

"How about you back up and start at the beginning for us," I say.

"Last I saw you, that woman was dragging you away like a sack of potatoes after murdering all your men. I find it hard to believe she'd let you out of her sight afterward."

"She didn't, at least for a while," he agrees.

"But Agnus Dei is working with several other superhumans to accomplish her goals. I believe you're familiar with one of them: First Lieutenant Marianne Locke, also known as Commander." Oh, shit.

"The mind controller with the Bliss power," I say.

"Yeah, she trained us." The colonel nods.

"Her power changes the chemical reward structure in her target's brains, effectively causing them to be addicted to obeying her," he explains.

"With enough exposure, that addiction remains even once you leave her power's effect radius. It's one of many tools that faction uses to creep their way into power."

"Uh-huh… and you expect us to believe you know this and aren't one of her mind controlled pawns?" I challenge. He clicks his tongue in irritation.

"I got into the military to try and save myself from myself," he says.

"I've broken far worse addictions than anything that dry-cunted bitch can throw at me." Jesus, okay. Y'know, I'll let him have that one, considering he's talking about a literal mind rapist. Still, it's weirdly convenient.

"If it's breakable, there's no way Agnus uses it as her only form of control," Emily says.

"You're right," the colonel nods.

"She also has my family. I do everything she says, or they die in an 'Angel attack.' And may God protect them, because I'm here talking to you anyway." I give him a careful look, both with my eyes and with my power. His jaw is set, his fists are clenched, his shoulders may as well be solid rocks. There are deep bags under his eyes, and the kind of things in his bloodstream… this is a man currently running on nothing but stress, coffee, and spite.

He's dressed well, and he's presenting himself like he's in control, but on the inside it's obvious he's been through hell. I guess we're not the only ones who have wild stories to tell.

"I'm honestly not sure any of us could fight Agnus Dei and win," I tell him.

"But right now, we're on a trip to get more allies. That means more Angels that could potentially fight her. If we assemble a team that can do the job, we'll take any chance we're given. But to have a shot, we need to know everything we can about her powers and her allies."

"…More Angels?" he repeats hesitantly, and I nod, motioning Blossom forward.

"This is A Blossom of Wilted Chances, Angel of Possibility," I introduce her.

"She's the only one of us who successfully injured Agnus Dei."

"Pleasure to meet, gilded human," Blossom says, giving him a toothy grin and extending both of her bone wrist-blades toward the ground.

"So you really were serious before," the colonel says, his face staying stoic while his heart rate skyrockets.

"You defected to the aliens."

"I don't consider myself on the side of the aliens or the humans," I respond.

"I consider myself on the side of Earth. There's an apocalypse coming in two and a half years or so, and our goal is to stop it by any means necessary."

"I've… heard about that," the colonel admits. Ah, I figured the military probably knew, but it's good to have confirmation.

"Precogs who can see that far all claim there will be some great catastrophe, though I've never heard any clear idea of what it is. We've been keeping it out of the public eye while working on how to deal with it."

"I'll save you some trouble," I say.

"The moon de-orbits, and the Grand Queen falls to Earth. That's, uh, the space tentacle monster. Humanity and the aliens both go the way of the dinosaurs. Hence why I think we can all work on the same side for this."

"Good god," he swears.

"I hope you're not crazy."

"You saw me get an entire squadron of Raptors to bow," I remind him.

"You know I'm not."

"Damn me, but that's why I'm here," he agrees.

"Fine. I'll tell you what I know."

"You mentioned a coup, right?" Emily prompts.

"Yes," he nods.

"One way or another, Agnus Dei is crazy. She's a supremacist. She believes those with powers have been chosen by God." Most of us share a collective grimace.

"Well no, but… actually yes?" Peter hedges.

"You can't be serious," the colonel laments.

"It's complicated," I say, more because I don't want to explain than because it actually is.

"Agnus Dei is wrong in almost every way that matters. Please continue."

"…Right. Well, the short of it is that she believes the biblical age of kings has returned, and that she therefore ought to be the rightful ruler of the United States. According to her, God rewards her for 'purging the world of sinners.'""Classy," Christine deadpans.

"It's utter blasphemy is what it is," the colonel grunts, and well… he's not wrong.

"Still, so far as we can tell the reality is that her abilities become permanently more potent every time she kills something. Alien or human. If it has powers, the boost in her strength is proportionally greater." Oh, damn. Damn! That is horrifying!

"How old is Angus Dei now?" I ask.

"Thirty-something?"

"Forty-eight," the colonel answers.

"She's been fighting in this war since the first alien touched our shores. No one knew when she actually got her powers, but after surviving a few skirmishes, she instinctively disintegrated most of a Behemoth that was threatening her squad. Flight came not long after, and she's only been getting stronger and faster since. Although… rumors say she still hasn't fully recovered from whatever you did to her. A bit slower, a bit weaker. Though I can't confirm that."

"Given her powers and how long she's been fighting, I suppose it makes sense that she wouldn't be okay with a peace treaty," I hum.

"Escalating that to taking over the country is a lot, though."

"I don't disagree," the colonel says.

"She's gone mad with power. She needs to be stopped. I don't imagine that you and I have similar ideas on patriotism, Seraphim, but I think we can agree on this: no queens, no kings. Those aren't just the principles the United States was founded on, they're the reason we're free at all."

"My name is Julietta," I inform him, not really wanting to get involved with the political rhetoric.

"You can just call me that. Or if you want to be extra formal, my other name roughly translates to Twisting Scars Reshape Fate."

"Julietta, then," he says after only a minor hesitation.

"Can we count on your help?"

"Who is 'we?'" I ask.

"And who else is working with Agnus Dei? How much control does she have? What supers follow her other than Commander?" This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. He makes a face, clearly not happy about having to explain things rather than just being agreed with by default. But to his credit, he doesn't complain.

"She controls most of our special reserve force of superhumans," he says.

"And most of our probationary power users as well, due to her close association with Commander. She focused on subverting the people we use to control the people we need to control."

"Like Danielle," I assume.

"…Yes," he admits.

"Even more than most of our probationary empowered, Danielle is dangerous. Potentially apocalyptic, even. I'm sure I don't need to emphasize how bad things could get with that girl in the hands of a madwoman." No, he does not. She single-handedly destroyed an entire colony by herself, at least by certain definitions.

It's pretty clear that the only reason they haven't used her to win the war already is because her loyalties and motivations are dubious at best; several Danielles have already tried to escape or otherwise desert, and if any of them succeed at that, they could depopulate human cities just as easily… while simultaneously becoming too vast to reasonably contest with anything other than high explosives from vast distances.

She's terrifying, doubly so considering what we now know about the trick Maria pulled to kill The Forbidden Name. Danielle can probably kill me. Like genuinely, actually kill me, regardless of how much biomass I happen to have. Maria's former colony probably saved my life when they told me to run. That's… a little chilling. I've gotten quite comfortable being functionally immortal.

"So you're basically telling us Christian Wonder Woman has an entire cadre of insane living weapons controlled by a second cadre of insane mind controllers," Peter summarizes.

"Fan-fucking-tastic. Do you have anyone else you could get to solve this problem instead?"

"No one I can talk to without her knowing," he answers.

"Please." I sigh.

"What's our time frame here?" I ask.

"Because again, we've already got a pretty important thing we're doing. It doesn't matter whether or not Agnus takes over the country if the planet ends up getting destroyed."

"Our plan to save the world involves the cooperation of both human and alien societies, and the cessation of the war," Emily reminds me.

"If Agnus is in charge, any chance for peace goes out the window. She probably intends to slaughter as many aliens as possible in order to fuel her abilities. And given how powerful she already is…"

"…We're better off dealing with her sooner rather than later," Maria concludes.

"But her domain is thicker than The Forbidden Name's, plus she can fly at supersonic speeds and shoot lasers. Even if I made a million of me, we probably couldn't even reach her."

"Yeah, none of us can face her in a straight fight," I agree.

"But what's our alternative? Just hoping we run into an Angel that can kill her?"

"I wonder if In-Joke might have a plan," Christine hums.

"That rat fucker had contingencies for getting murdered four different times in the span of five minutes. They've gotta know something."

"Well I don't know how to contact them, and I don't particularly want to either," I groan.

"Ironically, our best shot at killing her might have actually been summoning my brother on her ass," Emily scowls.

"His domain would have trapped her no matter how fast she was going, and her lasers wouldn't affect him at all. Plus, if Blossom could damage Agnus, he could have, too. It would have been a clean sweep."

"So you're saying In-Joke tricked us into killing The Forbidden Name at the literal worst possible time," I sigh.

"Awesome. Incredible."

"I'm sorry, did you just say you killed The Forbidden Name!?" the colonel gapes at us.

"Yes," Maria, Emily, and I all confirm at the same time. He doesn't seem to know what to say to that.

"…Alright, so what I'm hearing is that we'd like to help, but we're not sure how to yet," I summarize, glancing between everyone and not seeing any objections.

"So that brings us back to my question on time limits. When is Agnus going to try to take over the government? It'll probably be easier to take her down before she's the God-Queen of the USA or whatever, but we'll need to prepare." I turn back to the colonel at that, and he gives me a relieved nod.

"That… is understandable. Thank you," he says.

"It pains me to have to ask for your help, but you're some of the only people I know for sure haven't been subverted by her schemes. I don't know any details on her plans, but it's likely you have at least several more months before she makes any larger moves."

"We knew we would probably have to get rid of her in order to end the war anyway," I shrug.

"Do you want to… I don't know, exchange phone numbers or something?"

"I doubt that's wise," he answers, shaking his head.

"But if you do ever end up in my field of operations and you require my assistance, you may feel free to seek me out for aid, and I will do everything I can. …So long as you seek me in secret, of course, but I doubt that will be much of a problem for you, Ms. Morgan."

"I think I can manage," I agree, allowing myself a smirk at his jab.

"Alright, thanks for sharing what you know, then. We'll make it a priority, sir. Er… what's your name, actually?" He huffs in irritation.

"…Sanderson. Colonel David Sanderson," he answers.

"Thank you, Colonel Sanderson," I nod.

"I hope your family stays safe, and I hope we can continue working together for the good of the planet."

"For the good of our nation," he half-agrees, giving me a polite nod.

"Now would you mind putting our car back together?"

"I suppose," Christine allows, reassembling it behind them with a flick of her hand. We part ways, making our way back to our own van feeling a little shocked that went so amicably. I am… really not used to that! I guess at the end of the day there are reasonable people trying to do their best even in the worst of organizations. Colonel Sanderson is right: we definitely aren't going to see eye-to-eye on everything, but on this? We can agree, and we can cooperate.

"It's still a bit overwhelming," Maria says as we get back in the van.

"I mean… I had a poster of Agnus Dei on my bedroom wall as a kid. She's the superhero. America's strongest soldier."

"She's also been fighting nonstop for thirty years while the literal god of Blasphemy whispers in her dreams," Emily grunts as she starts the engine.

"She probably wasn't always a nutter. That could fuck up anyone."

"Yeah," Christine agrees.

"It's… kind of sad, honestly."

"Well none of you bleeding hearts had better try to talk her out of it just because it's sad," Peter says.

"Remember the immortal words of Uncle Iroh: 'she's crazy, and she needs to go down.'""Yeah!" Anastasia agrees firmly.

"No worry, I already stab her many many," Blossom nods.

"I wish I could disagree, but I can't," I sigh.

"I doubt we can negotiate with someone who thinks she's a prophet that god instructed to kill everyone and technically isn't wrong about that. She's just… wrong about which god."

"That's the saddest part of all!" Maria groans.

"She'd probably be devastated if she knew!"

"All the more reason telling her won't amount to anything," Emily points out.

"She won't believe us. She can't believe us."

"I'd say we're making a lot of assumptions about a woman we hardly know, but… yeah, in all my interactions with her, she's come off pretty unhinged," I agree.

"We should get back on the road, though. The sooner we can get allies, the sooner we can deal with the giant military conspiracy." And so we do. To my surprise, we aren't even accosted any further on our journey, though perhaps not for lack of trying. I notice several times where Emily wordlessly moves us off the highway for a while or gets us "lost" in suburbia for a while, but she got us out of an incursion zone, so I trust her to get us through this.

We even find an out-of-the-way place to park the van at night so we can sleep inside it, despite how incredibly cramped it is. Blossom doesn't mind sleeping on the floor, and I can make myself as small as needed, so it isn't too bad, but… we're still sleeping in a van. Then, the next day, we come across it: the official end of human territory. There's not much here other than the unmanned remains of a cordon, police tape and traffic cones cutting across the road.

Most of our border is watched, but as usual, Emily knows where to go.

"I'm gonna be real with you all," she says as Christine pulls apart the makeshift barrier and puts it back together after we drive past, "we are increasingly likely to die from here on in."

"Considering that we survived the goddamn ocean, should we really be that worried?" Christine asks.

"Yes," Emily confirms.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure why."

"It simple," Blossom says.

"Earth-pull very strong. Queens on land no can move. That stressful. Without move, territory very important. Conflict more likely. Also, more humans. Fighting happen immediately when arrive. Put on edge. Ocean colonies relaxed by comparison." Right… yeah, of course. The alien colonies closer to the surface of the ocean might occasionally fight and destroy ships, but even that likely hasn't happened in a while considering that we've mostly given up on navel combat. But the aliens on land?

Every single one of them has probably needed to fight someone, perhaps frequently. They're probably going to be a lot less friendly to the 'natives.'

"We can probably avoid most enemy territory though, right?" I ask.

"There should be ample space between the domains of most Queens."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we won't run into patrols or just get spotted from far away," Emily says.

"So just… be on guard, I guess, and be ready to act if I scream something."

"How bad are our odds, exactly?" Maria asks.

"Not terrible," Emily says.

"But just because an immediate death is unlikely, that doesn't mean we can't end up making a mistake that gets us killed down the road. The end of the world is on the line, after all." With that sobering thought, we settle in for the drive, asking Peter every few hours if we're still heading in the right direction. Apparently, we are. West, west, and more west. We pass into what was once Missouri, giving wide berth to the massive, towering flesh-forms of the Queens we see in the distance as we go.

"Do you think there are still people living out here?" Anastasia asks, staring out the front window.

"Humans, I mean." My initial thought is to say no, but… hmm.

"It's possible, I suppose," I admit.

"People who were already living self-sufficiently and didn't end up too close to a Queen's domain might exist. Maybe people with a ton of food stored, too."

"It's kind of scary," she says.

"To see a town with no one in it is… scary." Yeah. It still boggles my mind how many people used to live on this planet. It's a miracle our society still functions more or less the same as it used to before the war. Like, in some ways genuinely a miracle, since not every industry can just be scaled down linearly alongside population count, especially not given how much intercontinental trade was disrupted.

But despite it all, I grew up watching movies, listening to podcasts, eating fast food and saying grace at dinner. Society held onto its past, and while I can't argue it thrived, it certainly persevered.

"Someday, all those towns will be full again," I promise her.

"Queens or no Queens. We will find peace, and if we can't, we'll make peace. Once we have it, the world will heal."

"Yeah," Ana agrees softly, still staring out the window. We sleep again in the van that night, huddled together and watching episodes of old cartoons that Peter had the presence of mind to download before we left civilization. I wake up as a tiny tiger snuggled close in Anastasia's arms, making sure to flow out of her grasp without waking her as I carefully open the back of the van and check outside. In the relative darkness of a still-rising dawn, I find myself staring directly at a lone Raptor.

It stares back, frozen in the brush just off the road.

"Inquiry: purpose?" I ask it.

"Surprise. Request: affiliation," it responds. Hmm. It didn't answer my question. That's odd.

"This unit is Twisting Scars Reshape Fate, of the Council of Possibility," I respond.

"Acknowledgement. This unit hails from the Council of Nothing. Purpose: determination of threat." Oh, a Nothing cultist. Like the kind Dr. Bovary had in his lab. I suppose that explains what it's doing on a route we're taking to stay as far away from the nearby Queens as possible.

"Reciprocal threat only," I assure it.

"We have no business with your council and no intent to harm it. Do not impede us, and we will have no quarrel."

"Surprise. You acknowledge our council?" Ah, right. The whole 'god of nothing' business is heresy to most aliens. I don't really care, of course. I have my beliefs, but I'm not the sort of person to force them on anyone else.

"If you claim to be part of a council, who am I to contradict you?" I answer.

"I know nothing of you bar what you have told me. I see no reason to deny the possibility of the truth you claim."

"Hesitance. Is this view common among the councils of Possibility?" it asks.

"To my knowledge? No," I answer. Blossom is not a fan of heresy.

"It is unlikely you will be able seek refuge or acknowledgement with most Queens of Possibility. I speak only of my personal beliefs."

"Despair." Hmm.

"Do you require assistance?" I ask.

"No," it answers, but it's the sort of clipped, technically-true answer that I now understand hides a lot of deeper feelings. The kind of way I would always talk to people through the network. Still… we don't really have a ton of time to waste. I may as well take the denial at face value.

"Then I suggest you depart," I say.

"Your people need fear no danger from us. We will be leaving shortly."

"Acknowledgement. Appreciation," the Raptor says, shuffling backward, deeper into the brush. I return to my check of the van, making sure it hasn't taken any obvious damage before popping the gas tank and pouring more fuel in from a spare container we filled before heading out here. Honestly, if the Nothing cultists can survive out here, we're most likely a safe distance from the Queens. It's a good sign. Soon enough, the others start to wake up, and soon enough we're back on the road.

Kansas is even more empty than Missouri, the flat plains letting us see several Queens at once in different directions around us, like tiny mountains looming in the distance. It's a long, straight, and thoroughly boring drive, but throughout it all, as the hours pass, my anxiety starts to grow. It… it couldn't be, right?

"Welcome to Colorado," Emily says, and my stomach drops.

"You feel any change in direction yet, Peter? We're halfway across the country at this point."

"Uh… maybe a little," Peter says.

"Slightly north, I think? But not that far. We're definitely getting closer, though." Damn it.

"It's Denver," I say, my mouth dry.

"We're going to Denver."

"Huh?" Emily blinks.

"How do you know that?" Maria asks.

"Because there's a Perfection colony in Denver," I insist.

"I remember it. I remember the way the portal opened. It was like… the sky had become the truest version of itself. The platonic ideal of daytime. It was a painting of heaven from which hell would fall."

"You been here…?" Blossom asks slowly, a frown on her face.

"Oh, shit," Peter says.

"That's right. You were in an incursion before we ever met. It's how you got your skin burned off."

"…And where her real parents died," Emily groans.

"Oh, damn it, of course this would be Peter's colony. Seriously, it figures."

"So I'm supposed to be part of the council that killed Julietta's family, then?" Peter says, making an uncharacteristically upset face.

"That's a bit much, even for me."

"Is it actually?" Emily deadpans.

"Hey, I'm an orphan too, you know," Peter scowls.

"It's fine," I say quickly, interrupting any further argument.

"…Julietta," Maria sighs.

"Really," I insist.

"It's fine. I was a kid, I don't even remember all that much. And we know there was a cultural misunderstanding. The aliens had no idea what they were doing when all that happened. They were forced to come here. It… it's seriously fine. We need them anyway."

"Are you sure?" Maria presses.

"Of course I'm sure," I say firmly. Maria looks at Blossom, and the two of them nod at each other. They didn't even use the network for whatever that was about.

"I think Julietta is right, unfortunately," Emily says.

"We're headed to the mile high city. Next stop: Denver, Colorado." We speed down the highway, exceeding the limits posted on rusting road signs by several dozen miles per hour like we have all trip. It doesn't take long for the remains of the city I was born in to come into view. Or at least… what's left of it. A bit over a decade ago, Denver was a towering giant compared to the flat plains sprawling in every direction around it…

barring west, where it gets dwarfed by the horizon-spanning Rocky Mountains like everything else in the state. Yet while those skyscrapers have long since collapsed, in their place rests something just as inclined to challenge heaven. The Queen of Perfection is a towering crystalline monolith, large enough to have flattened a significant chunk of the city underneath itself as it fell.

The few massive buildings that endured the resulting earthquake are nonetheless humbled by its size, far greater than any human-made structure on the planet. It is a brilliant, piercing blue, pyramid-like in shape, the sunlight bouncing through its interior and painting half the suburbs around it in its hue. No… not 'its.' Hers.

For this is not some mere building, this is a Queen, a bastion of power and perfection that has crushed every attempt the United States made to overcome it until yet more of its kind could fall and push them all away. Now, she stands unchallenged, overseeing and judging all within her Domain. She destroyed my life and everyone in it. Her uncaring dominance made me suffer everything I've been through up to this point. And now we're here to give her my brother and ask for her favor. Closer and closer, we drive.

Our domains wrap snugly around the van, not knowing exactly how far the power of the monster in front of us stretches. At any second, it could encompass us in full. The closer we get, the larger she looms. And how could a Queen of Perfection find us anything but wanting?

"There," Emily says, taking her foot off the gas and letting the wind start to slow our van.

"That looks like our welcoming party." Ahead of us on the road, rows and rows of Raptors stand in perfect synchronicity, Behemoths and Wasps in similarly exact formations behind them. As Emily lightly puts on the breaks and lets us roll to a comfortable stop, we get close enough to see more. Raptors are almost always clones of one another, identical down to the cellular level, yet these somehow go a step farther. Not so much as a scratch on their claws or a smudge on their feet differentiates them from each other.

Not even their breathing is out of sync. We stop a fair distance in front of them, the slow deceleration having given them plenty of time to understand that to be our intention. And once we do, the lines of Raptors begin to part, allowing forth something… almost humanoid. They have two arms, two legs, and even something almost like a head, but it feels so unnatural my first assumption is that I'm looking at a robot rather than an Angel.

Its whole body is sharp angles and precisely-grown crystals, nothing but perfect angular points in place of where a human would have hands or feet. Yet despite effectively walking on a pair of needles, it crosses the ground with no apparent imbalance in its step. Its head, too, is nothing but a point, with no apparent sensory organs or identifiable features. Its crystals are precisely blue, and its skin is pristinely white. It is… perfect. Unnaturally, disturbingly so.

"Alright," I say softly.

"So Peter, you'll probably need to—" I'm cut off as Peter kicks the passenger door of the van open with a loud slam! He lets one leg dangle outside for a short moment before dropping lazily out of his seat, his hands never leaving his pockets as he touches the ground. Stepping out from around the door, he kicks it shut in much the same way that he opened it, leaving a dirty bootprint on the side. Grinning as he always does, he walks directly up to the Angel and cranes his head to stare at its featureless face."'

Sup, motherfucker?" he asks it.

"I'm home." Well. We haven't even said anything they can understand, and I can already tell. This Angel doesn't like us.