The luxury of being a soldier is that when the fighting is over, your job is done. The luxury of being a general is that you don’t have to do any of the fighting. Unfortunately for us, we aren’t soldiers or generals, And the fighting may be over, but our job isn’t anywhere close to done.

One day after the coup, we reconvene at Conrad’s manor. Despite the connotations, that’s really the only word for what we just did. Killed most of the old leadership, negotiated the surrender of those who remained, and took their places. And the Council essentially runs the world, meaning planet Earth is now under new management. Hopefully we do a better job than the last guys.

I give everyone a day to recover before contacting them. We’re all exhausted, and some of us are more injured than others, but there’s another reason I decided to wait as well. We all need a little time to shift out of war mindset. We don’t have to worry about our plans being discovered any longer, or at least not by Geas and Machina specifically. Making plans to take them down required a high level of paranoia and precaution at all times. I’ve been working with it since the first day I found out about the Council. But for the moment, I need to let it go. That’s not a good mindset to have going into the first meeting of the newly reformed Council. We ought to be looking ahead, not over our shoulders.

Everybody attends, of course. This isn’t the sort of thing you miss. Vindicator, Adamant, Winters, Atalanta, Zero, Superior, and Network. Astro is in the underground lab, still within the cocoon created by his alien armor. Counting him, half the Council survived. I’m a little surprised that all of us made it, considering what we were up against. It wasn’t just luck that got us through, either. It was planning and preparation. And the fact that it’s easier to destroy than create. We’ve done the easy part, tearing down a corrupt institution. Now it falls to us to build something better from its ashes.

“Thank you all for coming.”

This table has no head or foot, but all eyes are on me regardless. That shouldn’t come as a surprise- I ran the whole operation, after all. But it’s still disconcerting to be the one everybody looks to for answers. I suppose I’d better get used to it.

“Before we begin in earnest, there’s something we need to discuss. The question of membership. Assuming Astro pulls through, we’ve got five Council members currently active, and—”

Beringer clears his throat. He’s still got a few bruises from the fight, though most of the damage was mended by a couple hours under a Solberg-Normand machine.

“Actually, I’d like to retire, if that’s alright with you,” the old man says, looking slightly uncomfortable. “All of this excitement has been a little much for me. I’ll still help out in whatever ways I can, but I’d much rather do it from a lab than from a seat at the table.”

For some reason, I hadn’t even contemplated the possibility that some people might not want to remain after everything. Willingly giving up a position of such power seems insane to me, but I suppose from Beringer’s perspective, it makes sense. He never really said much in the few meetings I attended, and his age means he isn’t particularly suited for any kind of combat scenario.

“Sure.”

“Wonderful. And if it’s not too much trouble, might I request relocation somewhere besides that facility? You must admit, the odds of anyone recognizing me in public are next to none, and I’d very much like to actually see the outside world every once in a while.”

He isn’t wrong. Even as an active supervillain, he wasn’t especially notable, and that was decades ago. There’s no reason to confine him to the Council’s headquarters, especially if he isn’t going to be attending meetings. Knowing that he’s a potential world-ending threat means we’ll need to monitor him, but I have a feeling he’ll agree to that if it means living something resembling a normal life.

“That can be arranged. Now, I suppose we have four prior members here, one of whom is still in critical condition. So—”

Zero raises a hand. I break off and gesture for her to speak. No point in getting annoyed about it. There’s a lot to discuss, and I don’t want to dominate the room like Geas or Machina might have.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I promise it’s relevant. I was checking the security feeds from the base- by the way, now that we’re in charge, can we please give that place a proper name? Anyway. I was checking the security feeds, and I think Pallas might not be completely dead.”

Having paused for effect, Sandra places a holo-projector on the table. It displays a video feed that, according to the timestamp in the corner, is live. Judging by the angle, it’s one of the cameras we put in there, though she should have access to all the facility’s security cameras and hidden mics through Network as Machina. Where Pallas’s ashes were, there’s now a translucent blue bubble, which the superpowered dictator’s remains seem to be suspended within. As we watch in silence, it becomes apparent that they’re moving, very slowly.

“My guess would be she had some sort of resurrection power that nobody else knew about. Smarter than they gave her credit for. But it seems to be reconstructing her entire body on the atomic level, which is going to take a while, considering she was disintegrated. So I checked, and it turns out she left instructions for if she died or went MIA, just like your old boss. Wanted us to bring in her top advisor from Arcadia to hold her seat.”

Watching Gladwin’s remains slowly begin to reconfigure themselves, I can’t help but be impressed. The old leadership only thought of her as a useful tool, but in the end, she’s going to outlive all of them, not purely thanks to brute strength, but because she had a contingency plan. Whenever this process of resurrection or rebirth is finished, I’ll make sure to congratulate her. Until then, I’m sure her chosen replacement will serve just as well.

“Okay. Get some intel on the guy, we’ll discuss when and how to bring him in soon. That leaves us with five again. But the reason I brought this up in the first place is because not everyone in this room was a member before we took over. We need to discuss whether all of you are going to sign on or not.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then Conrad breaks it with a laugh.

“I’m in, obviously. My credentials speak for themselves.”

That’s the obvious one. Conrad’s always been ambitious. First he wanted to live up to his father’s legacy, now he wants to surpass the man. What better way that becoming a part of the group that rules the world?

“No objections here,” Zero says. Once they got over the kidnapping thing, she and Winters got along pretty well. Looking around the room, I see a few nods, and no indication anyone else has a problem with his inclusion. He fits the profile power-wise, and even if he didn’t, he’s got the ingenuity and determination necessary to make a good Council member.

“Who else?”

Adamant and Vindicator share a look. Then Clay speaks.

“I can’t. I’m not equipped to make these kinds of decisions. And I’m busy with the team as it is. If you all need my help, I’ll be there, but I don’t want any part of… this.”

He gestures around the table vaguely. I give him a sympathetic nod. He’s still a classical hero at heart, more in the model of someone like the Vitruvian than anybody else at this table.

“It wouldn’t be a good idea for me to stay on permanently,” Haley says. She’s not wearing her metal form, which surprised me when she first arrived. “I’d have to remain transformed for even longer than I already do, and that wouldn’t be healthy. However, I’m willing to hold a spot temporarily, until more members can be found. And I’d prefer to stay in the loop as much as possible once I’m gone.”

Much as I respect Haley and Clay, I was hoping they wouldn’t both request seats. For one thing, it would be strange if the entire Front Line were also part of the Council. It would probably start to feel like we were just carrying out the Council’s dirty work, rather than pursuing our original mission. And on a personal level, it wouldn’t be good for either of them to make the kinds of decisions we have to make.

“Okay. You’re welcome to stay on as long as you feel is necessary. I’ll address the question of recruitment later. Atalanta…”

It feels vaguely wrong to address Liv by her code-name outside of a combat environment, especially since we’re both not wearing our masks. But being too familiar in a formal context would also be a mistake.

“Nah, not interested. Thanks for asking, though.”

She winks at me, and I try not to blush. Much like with Conrad, I was almost completely certain what she’d decide before the question even came up. It’s more weight than she’s interested in shouldering. I can respect that. Certainly better than joining up just out of some misguided sense of obligation.

“Good to know. That leaves us with six permanent members, one temporary. As for the question of recruitment,” I continue, pulling the metal disc Gilgamesh gave me out of a pocket in my coat, “the old man gave me this before we went into cold storage. Apparently it’s got all his notes on things to watch out for, and potential future recruits.”

I hand the disc to Zero, who’s sitting to my left, and she immediately begins examining it. I’ve got no idea how to access any of the information supposedly contained within, but if anyone can, I’m sure it’ll be her. Or it’s just a hunk of metal, and he wants us to waste years studying it because he thinks it’d be funny.

“However, I don’t think we need to stick to his list exclusively. I’ve got some ideas of my own, as I’m sure many of you do as well. Before we can do that, we have certain pressing matters to discuss. Top of the list is how we’re going to handle the Lethe Clinic. Axel, I know you’re keeping a lid on things there for the moment, but we’re going to have to figure out a more permanent solution soon.”

Network nods, taking that as his cue to speak.

“I have a proposal. Normally, we’d cover an incident like this up entirely, but the presence of certain high-profile individuals at the site during the attack makes doing so difficult. Instead, I recommend we expose the true nature of the clinic, including what Geas was doing there. My reasoning is this: for the most part, I’ve avoided targeting major world leaders and other individuals in the spotlight. The constant scrutiny they face would heighten the risk of my discovery, and I’ve always been able to exert an acceptable amount of influence by controlling their underlings instead. A chief of staff rather than a president. But if we reveal to the world that Geas has been manipulating heads of state, CEOs, and other such figures, it will force them to resign, because their judgement will be seen as compromised. Not only will this prevent Geas from exerting influence upon the world from beyond the grave, it will allow the subordinates whom I control to assume the positions of the individuals who step down. Since I’ve been controlling most of those underlings for years, there will be no sudden personality shift for anyone to identify, and it will increase the influence I can wield by a significant factor in the process.”

Around the room, I can see a few different reactions. Clay in particular seems uncomfortable with the frank discussion of manipulation and misdirection on such a massive scale. At the very least, he’s unlikely to reconsider joining the Council any time soon. Others, like Conrad, are nodding in approval.

“That seems like an elegant solution, but what about the attack itself? We can’t exactly tell them the truth about that.”

Thorn nods at Lai’s question.

“We’ll come up with a plausible explanation, but keep the details vague. Too specific a story will only serve to increase suspicions.”

“Alright. All in favor of this proposal?”

I raise my own hand, and all of the others raise their own shortly after. Hopefully because they actually agree, and not just because I did it first. The ones who chose not to join keep their hands down, not voicing any opinion either way.

“Great. Axel, keep us updated on how that goes. We’ll also need to do something about the Royals eventually, but I think they should keep for the time being. Next order of business- we need to find Jason Hunt.”

“Jason’s alive?”

Clay looks confused, and I’m confused for a second too, before I remember that he and Haley arrived after Geas was already dead.

“Yes. O’Connor told me that he gave Jason amnesia, and they stuck him somewhere until they could figure out a way to decode his memories. Then he killed himself before I could find out where. So we need to find him. Zero, Network, can I count on you for that?”

The look on Sandra’s face is not one of total optimism.

“I’ll do my best, but it’ll take a while. Finding a needle in a haystack is one thing- all you need is a magnet. Finding one specific piece of hay is a lot harder.”

Especially if there are seven billion other pieces of hay, many of which look almost identical on the surface. Not the sort of problem you can just brute-force.

“Okay. Even without his memories, he’s still got the same skills, so he should be fine. Axel, any chance Machina’s memories can help?”

Thorn shakes his head.

“I’m afraid not. However, I might be able to access records that indicate the general region where Jason was taken. That should narrow the search down significantly.”

Score one more for Machina’s obsessive record-keeping. I’m glad we managed to retain the man’s knowledge and abilities. Not to mention the fact that he still controls one of the world’s largest superhero teams, which is now at our disposal.

“Good to hear. Keep me posted, both of you. And when we do find him, we’re gonna need a telepath to restore his memories. Try to find someone trustworthy and discreet. I’d like to believe he’ll remember everything just by seeing my face, but something tells me O’Connor’s work isn’t undone that easily.”

“Certainly not,” Beringer interjects. “I shudder to think what might have happened to Mister Blake and I had you not intervened before he finished programming us.”

It remains to be seen whether they’re suffering any adverse effects from the aborted memory manipulation. Yet another reason to keep him under observation even after his retirement.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help find him,” Vindicator says, sounding quite relieved his friend isn’t dead. I am as well, but there’s still no time to dwell on it just yet. Too much that needs doing.

“We will. I think that’s all the major business out of the way for now, which means we have to talk about the future. Obviously, certain changes need to be made in how we operate. Some things will stay the same, too. Obviously, protecting the world is still the top priority. And with our heaviest hitters either dead or out of commission for the foreseeable future, there are certain measures I want to discuss that will ensure we’re prepared for anything that might come our way. But that can wait for the moment. Right now, we need to decide how we want to do things going forward.”

I pause for a moment, expecting another round of interruptions and opinions. To my surprise, there are none. Just a room full of expectant looks. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m in charge, but the whole coup was my idea and my design. It follows that I’d be the one to set the agenda for the future. Good thing I came prepared.

“Considering who we are and what we do, there wouldn’t be much point in saying ‘no more secrets.’ However, I think we can all agree that transparency will be important, considering how much the old leadership hid from us all. The old implants need to be replaced, but I’d like for the new models to retain the bio-monitor and tracking features, with two differences. First, we’ll inform all new members of them in advance. Second, we’ll give everybody the chance to opt out. If you want some privacy, you’ll be able to shut both of them off at will. The official recommendation will be to keep them on as often as possible, for personal safety. The bio-monitor will inform us if any member is in danger, and the tracker will allow us to find them and ensure their safety. Does that sound reasonable?”

Conrad raises a hand.

“Who’d have access to this data?”

“Everybody. It would be accessible from your personal implant, or through the mission computer at headquarters.” I glance at Zero. “We do need a name for that place, by the way.”

She chuckles.

“I’m fine with it so long as opting out is actually opting out. No secret back doors.”

“Of course.”

Her hand goes up, joining Conrad’s and my own. Adamant and Network follow shortly after. Astro can’t exactly voice his opinion, considering the armor-induced coma, and Pallas’s chosen replacement hasn’t been inducted yet. But the five of us are a majority regardless, and I doubt either of them would have much of a problem with my arrangement.

“Obviously that’s not the only area in which we need transparency. No secret projects unless keeping them secret is absolutely necessary. Consult the group before taking decisive action of any kind. It might be necessary to establish a formal charter of some kind, but for now, I think common sense should be sufficient.”

More nods and vague noises of agreement. It’s hard to argue against transparency without seeming like you have something to hide, especially after what we learned about the old leadership.

“Beyond that, we still need to figure out what our mission is. Besides saving the world, the Council has improved it in countless ways over the past twenty years. I doubt anyone thinks that shouldn’t continue. The question is, should we be doing more? And if so, how? I know Zero and I both feel there’s more we ought to be doing, but does anyone feel differently?”

Haley speaks up first.

“There’s obviously a lot of good we could be doing in the world, but…” She trails off and sighs. “Hold on.”

A moment later, she transforms. As her skin shifts from pale flesh to cold metal, her posture changes as well. Adamant leans forward, folding her arms and placing them on the table.

“It would be a mistake to exert too much pressure, too quickly. If people feel change is being forced upon them, they’ll push back instinctively. The old guard was too cautious, too afraid of upsetting the balance of power. But if we go too far in the other direction, it’ll have the opposite effect of what was intended.”

Seeing how much more easily words come to Haley when she’s transformed, I’m somewhat envious. She’s described it as being like going from driving a car with engine trouble to getting behind the wheel of a sports car fresh off the assembly line. It’s a shame that the clarity her metal form brings is accompanied by a lack of empathy, or I’d have begged her to stay with the Council full-time.

“Definitely,” Winters replies, sitting up a little straighter to match Adamant. “But I wouldn’t underestimate how ready a lot of the world is for change. Problem is, institutions are arranged in a way that makes popular demand for change impossible to translate into action. The advantage we have is total immunity to the individual incentives that paralyze actors in the system. None of us have to worry about pissing off corporate donors or getting in trouble with party leadership. So we can agree on an agenda, and then figure out the best way to implement it. Except instead of just implementing it through whatever means are at our disposal, and assuming everyone will be grateful later, we build popular legitimacy.”

Conrad pauses to catch his breath. I’m impressed- he’s expressing a lot of sentiments I would have, in terms that are more persuasive than how I would have put them.

“I’m sure you all are generally in favor of democracy, at least in principle. But here we are, self-appointed and accountable to nobody. So clearly we aren’t all willing to just leave things to the will of the majority. Their minds are so poisoned by decades of propaganda and misinformation and nationalism that we can hardly expect them to make rational choices. Instead, what we need to do is make them agree with us, and think that they’re doing so completely independently. That’ll give our policies popular legitimacy, and turn the tide of institutional inertia in our favor. If we do it right, the system will eventually cease to require our influence at all.”

Another long pause. This is the kind of thing a lot of people here don’t like to think about. Manipulating entire populations from behind the scenes isn’t as morally clear-cut as fighting cartels or terrorists. It also implies no small amount of arrogance. If we agree to this course of action, we’re implicitly agreeing that our opinions and values are superior to the alternatives, and that it would be a good thing for the rest of the world to adopt them. Not all of us are in total agreement about those values, though, and that should prevent us from going too far in any direction. Those are details that will have to be worked out later, though.

“Frankly, that’s not too far off from what we’re already doing,” Network says calmly. “I’ve been exerting influence over the mainstream media since the very beginning. Through them, we can manufacture consent for almost anything. That’s been the role of the media since long before the Council even existed, of course. The difference being that our policies are good for the world, and once people start to realize that, it’s no longer necessary to manufacture consent, because it becomes genuine. It wouldn’t be difficult to scale up that process for larger projects.”

Projects which, for the most part, would be implemented by Network’s bodies inside of the halls of power. Without Geas, our other options for influencing the world are exceedingly limited. Network is almost impossible to kill, for obvious reasons, but it would still be prudent to explore other avenues, in the event that he can’t or won’t help us at some point in the future.

“We don’t need to work out exactly what our agenda is,” I interject. “At least, not today. There’s plenty we have to do before we can implement anything on this scale. But as far as the overall point goes, does anybody have a strong objection to expanding the Council’s world-improvement activities?”

A long minute passes, and nobody voices any dissent. Vindicator seems slightly uncomfortable, but more at the scale of what we’re discussing than anything else. He doesn’t want to make decisions that impact millions of lives. The cost of failure, and even the price of success, would weigh too heavily upon him. Atalanta just seems disinterested. That, I’m almost glad about. It’ll be nice to have someone I can talk to who knows about the whole Council thing, but doesn’t particularly care.

“Good. It’ll take some time before we’re ready to do any of that, of course. Continuing to use the old headquarters is the only practical option for now, and until the new model of implants is ready, we’ll have to rely on the old ones. They’re compromised, but the only people who could take advantage of it are dead or subordinated. Some cleanup will be necessary after Grendel, and if possible, I’d like to move Pallas out of the meeting room, since I imagine watching her slowly put herself back together would be rather distracting. If not, we might—”

Network clears his throat.

“Apologies. It seems like there’s an ongoing incident in Phnom Penh. Class Five threat rating, potentially self-replicating. The military is considering a tactical missile strike. If we intervene now, we may be able to save lives.”

Always another crisis. I look around the room, expecting to see exhaustion, resignation, or annoyance. Instead, I see a room full of people ready to save the world. Alone, we’ve all got our doubts, fears, insecurities, and limitations. But together, I have a feeling we might just be ready for what comes next.

“Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”