When I woke up, I was disoriented at first. Darkness all around me, not even a tiny bit of light to be seen. And my neck was crimped to all hell, reminding me of the fact that I hadn’t slept in a bed. After a few moments, the fog lifted and I remembered that I had slept in my bunker.

“Let there be light.” I said in a strong voice, chuckling a bit at my own joke. Part of me wanted to use the Latin phrase, but I dreaded the car-sounds Galatea would make in response, mocking me. But she had heard me and turned on the light, being the good daughter that she is. Afterwards, she proved that she was far greater than any god, by activating the coffee-maker as well. Yes, I had modified the coffee-maker that it could be operated by her helper-bots and activated on remote. Priorities, I definitely had them.

I stretched my body while I waited for the divine smell of freshly brewed coffee to make all the bad things in the world go away. If coffee couldn’t do it, nothing could. But as I went over the last few days, I realised that I might expect too much, even from the nectar of the divine. The rubicon had been crossed, the dice had been cast, no matter what you wanted to call it, I could only advance from now on. By faking my own death, I had cast off the shackles placed on me, but also cut the net and now, I was doing a balancing-act, hoping that I would not fall.

A small part called for the tying up of all possible loose ends and the abandonment of the silly sentiment of home. It would be so simple, cut a single link and nobody would know that Metis did not in fact died against the Scourge. As far as I knew, nobody had seen either Metis or Anath after the fight. I would just have to cut a simple link and leave the area. Wherever I ended up, I could forge a new powered persona and resume my plan on joining the guild.

But even that small thought was abhorrent to the rest of me. My nightmares from Sunday night jumped into focus, reminding me that I did not want to be a murderer. And that the possible killing of faceless gangbangers had caused me horrible nightmares. I did not even want to imagine what the cutting of that single link would do to me.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee pulled me from my thoughts and I moved to the coffee-maker and took the pot over the the small couch-table. With my first mug in hand, I took a look into the freezer and its state told me that I would have to go grocery shopping soon. What I had would last me a day or two, but no longer. And even those days would be on a rather limited diet.

“Alex, you should look at this.” Galatea said, just as I was debating muffins or croissants for breakfast, as I had both in my bunker to snack on.

Grabbing a muffin, I turned to look at the now glowing TV-screen.

“Breaking News: A tale of two Explosions.” The byline read, causing me to wonder the sanity of the TV-station. Two explosions, both probably killing several people and they make a joke out of it? And the media wondered why people grew weary.

As I listened to the newscaster, I was shocked. They mainly talked about the first explosion, the one Sunday night, and the miraculous fact that nobody had been killed in it. I had seen that explosion. Hell, I had caused that explosion by shooting hot plasma into a warehouse full of ammunition and explosives. If I were a religious person, I would call it God’s will that nobody had died inside, but I was not, so there had to be another explanation.

They had time to leave the building, but not enough time to make sure that it never blew up in the first place. Something was not making sense. I remembered one of the Powered, that I suspected to be part of their leadership, leaving the warehouse moments before I opened fire and knowing where to look for us. I doubted that he had coincidentally seen us hundreds of meters away and almost invisible in the night. No, he had known where to look before he left the warehouse.

It was the second time that members of that gang had knowledge they should not have. I could think of multiple ways to gain that knowledge, one would be similar to what I was doing. Using drones outside a normal humans perception and small and inconspicuous enough to evade electronic detection. That would give them enough time to evacuate, if they saw us coming, but probably not enough time to empty their warehouse. But it didn’t explain the fact that they had known where to intercept us on exiting the sewers. And it wouldn’t explain how we managed to ambush them on their drug-deal. The last one was explainable with simple human error, they did have some sort of aerial surveillance but hadn’t the ability to use all the data they gathered. It wouldn’t be a surprise, even governmental intelligence agencies had problems with the evaluation of all the data they gathered. I knew that I would be lost without Galatea.

Well, for now, I’d have to invoke the only god I believed in, the God of the Gaps. So, they knew, because god told them. With more information, I would revisit my conclusion and kill that pesky god, just to have him return at some other point.

But as I ruminate the strange ability of the gang, the news-anchor rambled on, praising the Heroes’ League for their support of fire-fighters to contain and control the ensuing fire.

As that part of the story was done, he switched to the more serious topic. The second explosion, the next night and further out of town. It had been a lot larger, breaking a few windows but causing little property damage. The news then switched to a Heroes’ League Spokesperson, explaining that our great city had come under attack from the abominable scourge but the brave heroes had driven it back, some paying the ultimate price. The spokesperson asked to include the young heroine Voltic in our thoughts and prayers as she had overloaded her Power, causing the explosion and destroying hundreds of scourge-monsters but the overdraft had sent her into a coma. Afterwards, they again asked for thoughts and prayers for the injured and the families of the fallen.

The news went back to the newsroom and the anchor praised the Heroes’ League, while their panelists criticised the Guild, posing questions about its use if it was unable to help us in a time of need. I thought them rather dishonest, not mentioning the Guild-Members and the independent Powered who had helped but I guess the League had its narrative and only information that supported that narrative was passed on. After all, there had been no reporters at the incursion-sites. We could have used them as bait after all. Shaking my head, I banished those unkind thoughts, at the end of the day, a free press was something good and worth protecting, even if that newscast was just a propaganda-piece for the League.

In a way, even I managed to get on the cast, they mentioned a fire in the residence of Martin King, president and CEO of KingCorps, claiming that authorities were investigating if foul play was involved.

As the news continued on to the weather, I tuned them out, focusing on more pressing matters. For example breakfast.

The big question was, would I stay in New Brunsburg? A lot of things pointed to leaving the city, establishing myself somewhere else. But how would Sophia take that? Would she feel that I betrayed her? Did I want to leave her or find out just where our partnership was headed? So many questions, so few certain answers. For now, I would use the assumption that I would stay here, safe in my bunker and my city. After all, I had just saved it, even if only one person awake knew about it.

With a cup of coffee in hand, I started a list of things I would have to prepare in order to make an underground living. The first thing to organize would be a steady food supply and a bed. It sounded so simple, but being ‘dead’ would make a trip to the grocer a problematic endeavour. So for now, I needed to change my looks so that neither electronic nor biological means would identify me.

In addition, I would need some kind of faked ID, just in case I was questioned for some random reason. It was highly unlikely but unlikely was a far cry from impossible.

Those were the first things I would have to organize, just to give myself some breathing room.