"Daniel Newman?" Echo mused as he read the text from his man in the Miami Police Department. "That name rings a bell."

Bartholomew's nemesis, or so the deranged Genius had described him. Given that Bartholomew had dropped completely off the grid, while Newman was apparently alive and well, there very well might have been some veracity to the claim. Either Daniel Newman was more dangerous than he appeared to be, or Andros Bartholomew had split from the People. Both were equally likely.

Echo really should have kept a closer eye on Bartholomew. The shoddily replicated Genius upgrade they'd given the man had been intended as little more than a thought experiment. Could you break an inferior upgrade? And what would happen if you did? The hope was to match the original Genius upgrades with a Broken Natural of their own. One that could grow in strength, and hopefully keep some level of stability.

Bartholomew had been a cooperative and enthusiastic volunteer, obsessed as he was with powers, but he'd shown no signs of greatness. His achievements in identifying and copying upgrade patterns might have been impressive in another organization, but the People were dedicated to the elimination of upgrades altogether. What was the point of a scientist dedicated to copying that which they wanted to destroy?

But the feds had succeeded where the People had failed. Bartholomew had broken, and was as close to a Genius as one would see in the present day. And now he was dead, or on the lam. How unfortunate. Echo sighed, but shifted to more important things. The end was approaching, and his time was running out. If this Daniel Newman had discovered the secret of Safemaker's havens, then Anastasia would be moving soon. He had decisions to make.

He glanced around the large library he had sequestered himself in. It was an astonishing place, this. Three stories, each as wide as a football field, and filled with bookshelves. There were half a dozen conference rooms on each floor that could be reserved by those with the proper identification, and rows of public computer terminals lining the walls of the complex. Echo chose the closest one, and sat down in front of it. He stuffed his backpack beneath the desk and nodded to the young woman occupying the neighboring terminal, who smiled prettily back at him.

No, not him. At Safemaker, whose face Echo was wearing. It served as an adequate disguise. Nobody was looking for a man who had died almost half a century ago. The People operative known as Safemaker was little more than a fabrication; one more layer of deceit to keep the People safe. Just the lingering shade of a man who had left the world a worse place than he'd found it. Echo had put his gifts to much better use than the original ever would have.

Echo inserted a pilfered identification card into the terminal and the computer hummed to life. He sent off a text while he waited for it to wake up.

Echo 6:45: Trouble possibly inc. Set up the cameras.

Gateway 6:45: ETA?

Echo 6:46: Uncertain.

The monitor brightened and Echo opened up a web search. He entered Daniel Newman's name and scrolled through the results, while tapping out another text with his free hand.

Echo 6:46: They've found a way inside.

Bastion 6:47: We are ready to proceed.

When one was the head of a nation-spanning group of freedom fighters, multitasking becomes a necessary skill to learn. Echo was quite proficient at it, and that was before his Natural talents came into play. His eyes scanned the computer screen, taking in Daniel Newman's minute digital footprint. The man was ostensibly a mutated short-hop. If that were the case, he was the single most flexible mutate that Echo had ever heard of. Far more likely was that he was a Natural, hiding his status under Anastasia's vast umbrella of influence.

What a shame, shame could be. Such an adaptable power would have been a tremendous asset to the People. Anastasia had clearly twisted the poor fool in some way. Perhaps it was not too late. It would depend entirely on how these next few days went. The veil of ignorance was about to be pulled away from the country. They called his People terrorists. He would show the country their true terrorists.

If only he had more time. He entertained, for a moment, thoughts of retreat. Gateway could get them out of the state, and they could return to hiding. It would buy some time, but not enough. The country was riled and someone needed to take the blame. The politicians would send their teams of murderers to forever harry the People's footsteps. With the havens broken, it was inevitable. They'd find him eventually. They'd put him on display like a deer carcass, strung up across White House pillars. Echo, leader of the People, dead at last.

He could try and have Newman killed, though at this point he doubted his ability to succeed before things reached their tipping point. A man with that kind of mobility was impossibly difficult to keep track of. Was it worth it to try anyway? How much would that death buy him? A few days? A week? His plan called for confrontation anyway, so what would it even matter? No need to waste the life of a Natural when it brought Echo no gain.

Better to choose his battlefield, against an old and familiar foe. Better that he have a chance of success, even if death might find him. If he must die, he would die standing. Not running away.

His phone vibrated in his palm, and he checked the message.

Gateway 7:05: Done.

Echo 7:06: Good. Stay nearby. If an engagement occurs, turn on the stream and retreat.

Gateway 7:07: I can fight!

Echo 7:07: You will retrieve Cannibal and drop him off in the Keys.

Gateway 7:08: That might take half an hour. If things go bad I won't be back in time to help.

Echo 7:09: If things go bad you wouldn't be able to help regardless.

Gateway 7:10: I should just do it now.

Echo 7:10: Summers needs to be distracted and I do not trust Cannibal to be patient while prey is nearby. You will wait.

He finished compiling what he had learned on Newman, then pasted it into a coded email and sent it off to update the dossier. He included instructions, in the case of his own death, marking the man as a possible Natural. He could be scouted for possible recruitment or elimination after Echo's showdown with Anastasia and her goons. If things went well, opinions should greatly shift, even among the upgraded populace. Sadly, any who remained on the vile woman's side afterwards would need to be targeted for culling. Naturals collaborating against their own kind could not be tolerated.

More coded emails went out, containing further instructions for specific individuals in the case of Echo's death. Proper planning prevents poor performance, and he had no intention to let the People fall into disarray even should things go horribly wrong. It would be difficult in his absence, of course, and a great deal of his resources had been committed to this venture, but the People would survive any catastrophe. It was the benefit of true believers, rather than men working for a paycheck.

He felt the moment a foreign power brushed the haven he was maintaining. It was the primary, containing Bastion, the bulk of the People's forces, and the freed Fridge prisoners. His Safemaker echo could only maintain a connection to a single haven at a time, though he could create dozens of the warped spaces. Reconnecting to an old haven was nothing more difficult than being nearby, but he lacked any kind of feedback from those disconnected havens until then. He kept a connection to the primary haven open as often as possible, breaking it only when rotating supplies between other safe houses.

This was a problem, because any number of those havens could now be compromised and—

His eyes widened as he felt the haven being breached. Something cold slithered through the tenuous connection, effortlessly bypassing his echoed power. He stood up in alarm, grabbing the backpack out from beneath the desk. He shouldered it and quickly walked towards the closest restrooms, tapping out a text to Bastion.

Echo 8:05: They've found you. Haven breached. Be ready.

He entered the bathroom and quickly checked beneath the stalls. Empty, good. He reached into his backpack, removed a door stop, and slipped it under the foot of the door. He stripped off his clothes and pulled Champion's costume out of his bag. It was the real deal, one of the man's many spares that Echo had kept for this very purpose.

He buttoned up the shirt and pants. His feet slipped into the comfortable dress shoes. His tie went round his neck, practiced fingers looping it into a distinguished Windsor. He shrugged on the jacket, buttoning the sleeves with precision before straightening his collar. The mask came last, gently, reverently, placed over his forehead before resting against the bridge of his nose. His vision went black as it passed his eyes and he kept them tightly shut until he felt the mask settle. He opened his eyes and faced the mirror.

Champion stared back at him.

He felt the new echo settle into place. He felt the foreign touch of what must have been Newman's power slipping away, as Safemaker fell back into the void from whence he'd came. The haven would be cut off, but they were likely being brought out anyways. All was well, all would be fine. Champion took in a deep breath, and let it out with absolute calm.

He tucked the stray clothes back into his backpack, removed the door stop, and stepped out into the library. He began to walk towards the exit, without shame nor hesitancy. Gazes followed him, a few at first, quickly turning into an avalanche of eyes and voices. Stares, questions, cries of alarm and excitement. He smiled broadly at the People who he'd spent his life, and death, protecting.

A security guard was posted by the exit, but Champion did not break stride. The man met his gaze and blinked first. He stepped away, allowing passage. Champion walked through the doors, their clever electronics opening before him. He saw the sun peeking over the horizon as dusk made its rapid approach. He saw streams of orange-red light cascading across the blue sky, tinging the atmosphere in shades of gold. He saw the beautiful world for which he was willing to give his life.

Champion stepped out of the library, and onto the University of Texas campus. He straightened his suit, adjusted his tie, and awaited the end.