Ciara opened her eyes and clambered off the cot, stretching and yawning. It was a surprisingly human motion for someone who was otherwise so inhuman. Other than her appearance, there was little of Ciara left in her these days.

The Diviner had already informed her of the coming interruption, so she was not surprised when a soft voice played through the speakers of her cell, its accent faintly reminiscent of the land of her youth.

"Good morning Glaistig Uaine. You wished to speak with me?"

Smiling, the Faerie Queen turned to face the screen in the corner of her cell, which displayed a neutral female face. Generally the jailer did not speak with the prisoners, but they were both aware that her presence here was a polite fiction, so exceptions were made.

"Warden Dragon, good morning!" she said in her chorus of voices. "It has been a while since we last spoke." With a gesture, she summoned one of her shades. A woman, with a gas mask and goggles obscuring her features and a bandolier across her torso. She stood at parade rest, her hands held behind her back, with her head bowed slightly in deference.

"The Bombardier. Her previous master took it upon himself to deprive her of life. A show of strength, I suppose. I am curious, did you foresee this?"

If Dragon had a body she would have fidgeted uncomfortably. "It wasn't… unexpected. I had hoped Bakuda might be protected in your cellblock, but I was not optimistic, given her volatile personality."

Glaistig Uaine nodded at the explanation. "I must confess, I had a second purpose in seeking your company. I am curious about the disturbance of this week past. The others believe the Minstrel was killed in the night."

"And you do not?" asked Dragon, warily. The girl - no, woman - simply stared at her with a raised eyebrow and a frown.

Dragon sighed. Part of her duties in administering the Birdcage was keeping Glaistig Uaine content, or at least pacified. That meant that when the Faerie Queen demanded a conversation, she got one. Their talks were generally confined to inconsequential topics, until they weren't. It could go from pleasant to nerve-wracking quite quickly.

"It appears that Canary was removed from a her cell by a parahuman known as Jaunt. I believe they have escaped the Birdcage entirely."

"Ah, of course, the Nomad Queen. I have been aware of her for a while." She gestured to one of her shades, a waif with circular lenses sunken into his face. "The Farseer has been helping me observe her exploits. Do I sense that you are not entirely unhappy with these events?"

"I suppose so," Dragon replied slowly. "I didn't want Paige to be sent here, but there wasn't much I could do. As for Jaunt, I don't believe her intentions to be malicious. Does she… mean something to you?"

Glassing Uaine answered with a cryptic smile. "We all have our roles. Mine will come at the dénouement, but hers has already begun. Most of the fae play a single stage, but she flits between them, weaving together the dramatis personæ. From Marco Polo to Columbus to Armstrong, the tales of travellers enthral us all. I watch her performance with interest."

The little information that was publicly available about the Faerie Queen portrayed her as insane. The PRT even encouraged such a depiction. Perhaps it was insanity, but certain people paid very close attention to Glaistig Uaine. Much of what she said seemed indecipherable, but Dragon recorded it anyway. It would be poured over and dissected by Protectorate thinkers… and other parties.

Dragon tried to get her to elaborate. "You aren't angry? That she took someone who was promised to you?"

Glaistig Uaine tittered in a chorus of voices, a sound that was at once youthful and ancient. "Hardly. What is a songbird between queens?" Growing more serious, she continued, "Her story began with tragedy and isolation. Even now she holds lonely court atop a pillar of rock with only the Minstrel to offer counsel."

Her tone lightened again, and her lips spread in a sly smile that was out of place on her youthful features. "If she is to play her part, she will require advocates, Warden Dragon. And she might be of aid to you as well. After all, she has already broken one of your cages."

Before Dragon got a chance to reply, Glaistig Uaine had turned her back on the screen and started to leave. She called back over her shoulder, "Thank you for the conversation. Please, don't let me detain you, we are both busy women after all."

"If you would leave your weapons here please, they will be returned to you when you leave."

Miss Militia watched the girl closely as she began piling her equipment into the provided tray. She recognized the handgun, a SIG P226 Mk25 - expensive, and not availably commercially. It was followed by two combat knives, an expandable baton, knuckledusters, and pepper spray. She raised an eyebrow at the collection, and Jaunt just shrugged.

"What about your messenger bag?"

"I'm not leaving it here. It doesn't have any weapons in it."

"You have to put it through our screening machine at least."

She placed it on the conveyor belt, and the PRT agent behind the counter activated the scanner. "It's just got some folders full of paper and… rocks? Nothing dangerous, Miss Militia. You can go ahead."

Jaunt collected her bag from the other side of the counter and then followed Miss Militia into the interior of the building. As they walked towards the conference room, Hannah noticed the girl watching her surreptitiously.

"You can take a seat. Armsmaster and Director Piggot should be here in a few minutes."

An awkward silence stretched between them. The girl continued to stare. Miss Militia fidgeted, her weapon morphing into a handgun, then a rifle, and then a knife which she sheathed in her shoulder harness.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's just… I've always been a fan of yours. I never imagined I'd be meeting you in this sort of situation."

Hannah blinked, caught off guard. Over the last few months Jaunt had built up a reputation as a ruthless mercenary, operating in some of the most dangerous places on Earth. It was hard to believe that the gawky teenager who was apparently fan-girling over meeting her was the same person who assassinated African warlords and raided Gesselschaft bases.

"Oh. Thank you." She relaxed a little. The PRT file described Jaunt as 'flighty and volatile if provoked', advising heroes to approach with extreme caution, but she didn't seem unstable. "I've been meaning to ask, can you actually teleport to the moon?"

Jaunt grinned, dug a hand into her bag, and slid a small object across the table to her. Hannah stared at the little grey lump of rock, eyes wide.

"Is this… ?"

"Yeah. A souvenir from Mare Ibrium. Keep it."

"This must be worth millions!"

"There's plenty more where that came from. I'm going to be dropping in at the Johnson Space Centre later this week to see if they're interested in some contract work."

She was examining the rock gingerly when Armsmaster and Piggot finally arrived, and she jumped to attention with a belated salute to the irate PRT Director. The three of them took seats across the conference table from Jaunt. Piggot examined Jaunt for a few moments, trying to get the measure of her before speaking.

"I don't suppose you're here to turn yourself in?"

Jaunt smirked at that. She'd straightened in her seat and crossed her arms. Her whole demeanour had changed from a minute ago, as if a shield had dropped into place. Suddenly, she seemed dangerous again.

"No. I'm here to collect what I'm owed. I'm also here to make amends."

"You've committed serious crimes, Jaunt." Piggot let the statement hang in the air for a second. If it was meant to contain an implicit threat, it was rather toothless because short of a kill order there wasn't much the PRT could do that would even inconvenience her. Piggot continued, "But there is precedent. If you were to join the Wards as a probationary member, we might see fit to drop some of the charges against you."

Jaunt smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant smile. "You misunderstand what I mean by 'amends'. And please, call me Ms. Hebert. I know you've pegged my identity and investigated my past, so you must know there's no way in hell I'm joining the Wards."

She pulled a business card out of a side pocket in her jacket and slid it across the desk. Armsmaster picked it up, admiring the subtle off-white colouring and tasteful thickness. No watermark, though.

"Those are the details of a numbered account at Banque Raiffeisen in Luxembourg. I trust you will be able to transfer the bounties for Cherish, Shatterbird, and Mannequin to me promptly. Please subtract $15,250 from the deposit, and transfer it to Brockton Bay Central Bank first."

All three of them stared at her.

"My first crime," she explained, her lips quirking into a smile. "They probably got an insurance payout afterwards, but I still feel guilty."

Hannah saw Colin's default frown deepening. She had known him for nearly a decade; this was the closest the man got to expressing outrage.

"Is this a joke? I suppose you'll be 'making amends' for your other crimes too?"

"No joke. And yes, I'll be apologizing to Masamune personally."

"What about breaking into the Birdcage? Sheltering a fugitive? The murders you've committed?"

"Freeing Paige wasn't a crime. You've killed people, Armsmaster. Are you a murderer?"

"In self defence, or in the execution of kill orders. It was sanctioned."

"Are you seriously telling me men like Mansamusa and Bloedrivier deserved to live? Should I have captured them to stand trial, when their nations don't have functioning governments? Don't be fucking naive."

"Enough, Armsmaster," Piggot cut in, raising her voice. "This is not helping. Ms. Hebert, I gather that your issue with joining the Wards is about Shadow Stalker. What if I told you that in exchange for joining we are willing to take action against her, as well as acquitting you of criminal charges. As it is, many of your 'crimes' occurred outside our jurisdiction and you are as you say, 'making amends' for the rest."

The disconcerting smile was back. "I see. Now that I'm more useful to the PRT than Sophia, you're willing to throw her under the bus." Her voice was light, as if she was discussing the weather, but with an undertone of menace. "I really don't care if you consider me a criminal. I am free. Do you understand that? Why on earth would I want to put myself under your thumb? No, keep your pet psychopath. You can tell your boss I'll be attending Endbringer fights. I'll even cooperate with the Protectorate on occasion, but I'm not going to be a part of it."

Piggot pursed her lips. "Fine. How can we get in touch to arrange transportation?" Another business card was produced with a phone number on it.

"I can't guarantee that I'll always be reachable at that number, but I'll be around at least a week before the PRT's projected window of attack. If I'm transporting more than a dozen people, I'll be bringing pieces of the environment along, so you will have to prepare a clear landing area at the target location. I can go anywhere on the planet, just message me GPS co-ordinates and times."

Armsmaster was already entering the number into his suit's computer system. "This is a satellite phone. What do you mean you won't be reachable at all times?"

She lowered her head, avoiding their gaze. Was that… guilt? "The phone works everywhere on this planet, but I don't spend all my time here. It's why I was late to the Leviathan battle. I could have helped more, but I didn't hear about it until it was too late. It won't happen again."

Piggot and Armsmaster exchanged a glance. Or would have, if his helmet didn't cover the upper half of his face. Their suspicions had just been confirmed: she could travel to alternate earths.

"You're confirming that you are capable of transdimensional travel?"

"Yes. You already knew that, or at least suspected it."

"How- Never mind. That's another thing we'd like to talk about. You've brought materials from Earth Aleph over. Technically there aren't any laws against it - yet - but the Bet Transdimensional Trade Authority is very unhappy about possibility of unauthorized exchanges. If the authorities on Aleph catch wind of it, there could be… repercussions."

She rolled her eyes at that, laughing. "Fine. Earth Aleph is pretty boring anyway. But I'm not going to stop visiting other worlds or bringing stuff back from them - unless you want me to go back to robbing banks."

Armsmaster leaned forward in interest. "So you've been to other populated Earths? How do you navigate between them? And you mentioned bringing back items, I would be interested in procuring samples of alternate technologies."

Piggot glared at him while Miss Militia tried not to snort with laughter. "She's still a criminal, Armsmaster, and you were accusing her of murder five minutes ago."

Jaunt grinned and was about to reply when an alert sounded from her coat pocket. She pulled out a tinkertech phone and flipped it open. The smile dropped from her face as she read the message, and she rose to her feet.

"I need to leave. If there's anything else, get in touch and I'll fit you into my schedule. Miss Militia, I will require my equipment now."

It was nearly midnight in Dar-es-Salaam, but the city was alive with lights as four million people tried to flee. The name meant 'House of Peace'; tonight it would be anything but. The three main highways out of the city were already choked with cars and trucks, backed up for miles.

At least forty capes were gathered below, alongside Dragon's enormous airbarges. The Muhimbili University football field had been converted into a field headquarters for the relief effort. Ahead, the clouds and sky were painted with a red glow, as if an angry sun was breaking dawn from the west. From her vantage point on a nearby roof, Taylor caught glimpses of the source, miles away. A maelstrom of fire was approaching to consume the city. Claws of flame would consume a building before flickering into other monstrous shapes. With the Ash Beast, there was little to do but run.

Taylor jumped down to an empty part of the field before walking over to the assembled capes. The Guild was here, as well as a few representatives from the King's Men, but most of the capes were from the Nguvu Moja, the hero organization that operated in East-Africa. She nodded to Narwhal before approaching Dragon's suit. She finished speaking with a local cape in rapid, fluent Swahili before turning to Taylor.

"Jaunt, thank you for coming. Take this," she said as she handed Taylor an earpiece and wristband with a screen. "It has a built in translator which will add a half second delay. The wristband can also translate anything you say into Swahili."

As she finished speaking, the hubbub of conversations around them fell and the assembled capes turned their attention to a man and a woman who stood at the centre of the clearing. Dragon's voice came through Taylor's earpiece, "Simba and Mngwa of the Nguvu Moja."

The woman was dressed in a sweeping red gown and wielded red energy constructs in the shape of a Maasai shield and spear, while the man wore dark grey armour that was covered in fine fur, with a helm in the shape of a snarling leopard. The woman began speaking in Swahili, and half a second later a translation played through the earpiece.

"Thank you all for coming. We did not predict that the Ash Beast would head East, and we owe thanks to Dragon of The Guild for the hours of warning we received regarding his new course.

"We are not facing an Endbringer tonight. No hero need fall to the Beast if we are careful. Our primary duty is to delay him, divert him if possible, and move civilians to safety with haste. The inland warlords have agreed to a truce for two days, but we must remain weary of treachery. They will extract their price later, in any case."

She nodded to her armoured partner who activated a device in his hand which projected a holographic map of the region into the air.

"We will be dividing into two groups. Those who can engage or slow the Ash Beast will be led by myself and Narwhal of The Guild. Those who can carry innocents and clear the path will be lead by Dragon and Mngwa. These are the evacuation points. Civilians have been instructed to gather there." Locations on the holographic map lit up in red. "And these are target locations on the Zanzibar Isles and inland, where we predict he will not go." The targets lit up in green. "Your wristbands have the maps, and will inform you where to go. Take as many civilians as you are able on each trip. You can communicate through the bands if you require aid."

Instructions complete, her gaze swept over the defending forces one last time. "Let us begin, then."

The first location appeared on Taylor's wristband. She took a deep breath, and jumped.