I walk into the Capitol Building, stepping on huge steel plates, laid out carefully. Each one meant to spread my immense weight out, and to prevent me from punching holes in the historical— and important— building’s floor. Lieutenant McKinley and Captain Rains lead the way in their crisp dress uniforms. Morgan walks next to me, thick boots clicking on the steel plates.

  She looks annoyed.

  “This is bullshit, Machina.”

  Every time I hear my new name, satisfaction rolls through me.

  “Preaching to the choir, Morgan.”

  She sighs.

  “Let’s hope this is quick. I have critical projects I need to get back to. Fractal Shard research is at an important stage, and I’m the only one who can complete the experiments. And you’re needed, well, everywhere.”

  Wisps of Potentia, raw magic, drifts off from her, and I can see green fire flicker in her eyes.

  “What the hell are they thinking, anyway?”

  I shrug.

  “Telepathy is not one of my powers.”

  She laughs at that.

  We step into the Senate Chamber, where the Senatorial Armed Services Committee waits for us. Senator Redding, of Alabama, is the chairman. He’s an elderly man, dark age spots dotting his face and his hands. Most of his hair is gone, with only wisps of stark white hair around his head.

  Dozens of camera crews for just as many TV stations swivel to track us as we enter. This Senate hearing is one of the biggest pieces of news in recent days, which is saying a lot.

  We move to the table set for us. Only three chairs sit behind it.

  “Mr. Ryans,” Redding croaks out. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stand. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes, Senator. It’s quite alright. Though, as a note, I’d prefer if you called me Machina, sir.”

  He huffs.

  “It’s not your legal name, and as such, I see no reason to accept your request.”

  A flash of annoyance runs through me before I can suppress it. Redding bangs a gavel.

  “This hearing is now in session. We will be discussing and evaluating the collateral damage both Seth Ryans and Morgan Buchanan have caused with their reckless use of their… powers.”

  He sneers at the last word.

  Clearly not a fan.

  “Over the course of the last three weeks, Mr. Seth Ryans has caused nearly eighty million dollars in damage to infrastructure across eight states. Ms. Morgan Buchanan has caused eleven and a half million dollars in damage across four.

  “Time and time again, both of these individuals have shown complete disregard for the damage they have caused. As a Senator, a representative of the American taxpayer, I have a right to demand answers from you!”

  I meet the Senator’s gaze, at eye level with him despite his raised seat.

  “What questions do you have for me, Senator Redding?” I ask.

  “Many, I assure you. But I’d like to start with a question on communications. During the Second Battle for New York, multiple telecommunication satellites, both government and privately owned, came under immense load. Connections were dropped, and two Jovian Telecom Io-class satellites were burned out. The damage is attributed to you, Mr. Ryans. Would you mind explaining how that happened?”

  “Ah, yes sir. Sorry, sir. I was hooked into both New York’s CCTV network as well every internet accessible camera—”

  The Senator abruptly interrupts me, and I can see Morgan wince.

  “Mr. Ryans, you’re telling me that you hacked into not just government security cameras, but also privately owned civilian ones? You admit to this?”

  “Sir, I was using them to find survivors and hotspots—”

  “My word! Not only have you caused wanton damage, you’ve also invaded the taxpayer’s privacy! Not to mention hacking into government devices. Does the rule of law mean nothing to you?!”

  “Senator, please, if you’d let me explain, I promise there was a good reason.”

  He huffs, and waves dismissively.

  “Feel free to try to dig yourself out of this hole.”

  Morgan’s jaw clenches, and she gives me a worried look. Redding catches it.

  “Something the matter, Ms. Buchanan?”

  She quickly schools her expression.

  “No, Senator.”

  “Afraid of the truth coming out about your friend, perhaps?”

  She smiles at that.

  “The truth about him? No, I’m not afraid of that. You might be, though.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “We’ll see about that,” he says, glaring at her. “Please continue, Mr. Ryans. Explain yourself.”

  I’m aware of the dozens of cameras training on me. The slight wobble in some of the well-used swivels. The smudges on a few lenses, too faint for even the cameras themselves to notice. I can see their electromagnetic cry as they scream out into the void. Their operators are waiting with bated breath.

  “Sir, I was using cameras from across the city to collect data and fuse it all into a single cohesive picture. Yes, the process dropped many connections, though I rerouted the critical ones through my own data channels. Emergency traffic, news stations, and military communications still made it through.”

  The Senator narrows his eyes at me, and the corners of his lips turn up.

  “And the burned out satellites?”

  It’s moments like these when I realize just how much I lost when I Ascended. As a human, I would have shifted uneasily, or maybe looked away in shame. Now, I haven’t moved since I stepped behind the desk, the steel reinforcement plates flexing under my weight. I feel none of the stoicism I’m sure I project, though.

  “I needed the bandwidth. The National Guard was in chaos, despite the best efforts of General Briggs. I was holding hundreds of conversations at once, getting people to where they needed to be. I overloaded the transmitters to get what I needed out of them.”

  Senator Redding has the facial expression of a cat catching a bird. Captain Rains and Lieutenant McKinley start sweating.

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Are you telling me that you hacked into the entirety of the local radio network so you could personally handle everything? You broke into private devices, government cameras, military communications, emergency frequencies, and manipulated news stations? You then ordered about military units, despite not having the authority or the training to do so?”

  “Sir—”

  “No, no. I think we’ve heard enough out of you, Mr. Ryans. Not only did you break more telecom and privacy laws than any one person ever, you burned out satellites that’ll cost fifteen million dollars to replace to do so, each! You broke into restricted frequencies reserved for government use, and modified ones reserved for the brave journalists getting people out.”

  “Sir, please—”

  “Son, if you interrupt me again, you’ll regret it. Now, in light of the burgeoning tyrant known as Seth Ryans, and how this simply isn’t the American way, I think I’ve got to do something about this.”

  A cruel smile of victory crawls across his face.

  “I am now ordering the entirety of the United States Armed Forces to suspend any and all operations, coordination, and support with one Seth Ryans.”

  Cameras click away like machine guns.

  “Effective immediately. Further—” The benches behind us, full of reporters and more, erupts into muttering. For the first time in weeks, I’m shocked into inaction.

  …What?

  He slams his gavel down, the banging barely audible over the clamor.

  “Silence! Silence! This hearing is still in session, and if you all do not uphold the decorum this chamber is owed, you will be removed!

  “Furthermore! I am requiring that Mr. Seth Ryans will stay in DC, so he may attend further hearings, as required. I’m sure we’ll have much to talk about. We still have yet to discuss the collateral damage you’ve caused, Mr. Ryans. We’re lucky you haven’t killed anyone yet.”

  I sit along the bank of the Potomac River, water up to my knees. Callisto rages behind me, and even the normally stoic Thor is visually perturbed. Most of 2nd Squad is here, keeping me company, against orders. McKinley and Rains are off back in the Pentagon, trying their damnedest to get this no-coordination order reversed.

  “What the fuck is that greasy spineless dickhead even think he’s—”

  Thor leans in close to me.

  “Why are you not so angry about this? I would have assumed you’d be raging with twice the fury as our good Sergeant.”

  I look out over the empty Potomac. Normally there’d be boaters or fishers cruising the waters, but not now. Not anymore. Fear abounds, and people are afraid to leave their homes. Those who still have them, anyway.

  “What if he’s right? We are lucky that I haven’t killed anyone yet. I do cause damage. I tear up roads, collapse buildings, shatter water mains and more!”

  Thor scoffs.

  “Ha! As if we don’t either. You think tanks are kind on the roads? On buildings? You watched a round bounce clean off the Bunker Spider on the White House lawn. You think that shell just vanished, out of sight? You saw the damage left behind after air strikes on another one in New York.”

  “But—”

  “No, Machina. Listen here, and listen well,” Thor says while trying—and failing—to shove me. “Whatever damage you do, lives that slip through your fingers? That’s still better than anyone else could ever hope to do. The Goliath you hammered into gravel on FDR? What you did was less than would have happened if the navy hit it with Tomahawks. They hold you to an impossible standard, not because they believe in you, but because they want you to fail.”

  He takes a breath, blonde braids shaking in the cool air.

  “They want you to fail because they are scared, terrified, of this new world. They no longer have the control they are so used to, that they’ve spent decades cultivating. All of it, every scrap of influence, wealth, and prestige means nothing anymore. Not in the face of monsters. Not in the face of people like you.

  “This is a last gasp of terrified people who are used to control having none. And so, they will make you fail so they can bring you in, tell you what to do. You are personally one of the most powerful individuals on the planet. To control you, to tell you what to do is to give them a moment of respite. A feeling that maybe the world they’re used to can still be recovered.

  “It is ultimately a self-destructive reaction, one that will harm all of us. You have a choice, now. To believe in the systems of old, the order of how things were done. To try and uphold them, to keep them going even in a new age where they seem to fall short.”

  “Maybe you can,” he says with a shrug. “The amount of power you hold is honestly beyond my ability to even comprehend. If anyone could force the new world to bend to the old, it would be you and your peers, like Sorceress le Fay.”

  Thor’s gaze drifts back over the eerily quiet waters.

  “Or… you refuse. You do what has to be done to save as many lives as possible. You accept that those in power are no longer capable of leading in a new world. That the current model of modern states has failed.”

  The angry and frustrated 2nd Squad looks at us in silence, transfixed by Thor’s monologue.

  “Governments worked through a monopoly of violence. That no matter who you were, you were not immune to a bullet. That in the end, any individual could be cowed by the use of violence. That is no longer the case. You are indestructible, unstoppable. You are not limited by the fragility of the world, as much as you claim. You are limited by how much you care for it. They cannot threaten you with anything you cannot shrug off. They can slow you down, yes,” he waves at himself and his squad. “Like they are doing now. They are taking away as much of your power as they can.

  “In the end, the decision is yours,” Thor tells me. “To accept limits on yourself in the name of a world order that may no longer work without you fighting every single day in its name. Or to accept that it’s broken, that to fight for the system may require you to let people die in its name you could have otherwise saved.

  “I don’t know the answer. I know that I am glad I don’t have to make that decision. I know that makes me selfish, and afraid. That to put this decision on you is something that I shouldn’t do, that I should do the right thing, and help you find an answer.”

  He hangs his head and whispers.

  “But I am not that strong.”

  He turns away, trying to hide his tears.

  “Please forgive me.”

  Another day, another shoutout! I have another more superhero-y (is that a word? it is now!) fic for you all today. I've mentioned before that while Eschaton does have some superhero aspects, it's mostly just breezing that category rather than going full on into it. If you're in the mood for some good anti-hero comicbook villiany action, I have good news for you!