"This is completely unnecessary," Justin said, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at the pod. "I was merely speaking the truth. If that's offensive to our new delicate sensibilities, that's hardly my fault."

  Taylor stood with her hands folded neatly in front of her apron, the very picture of domestic tranquility except for the steely glint in her eyes. The lab hummed with quiet efficiency around them, the stark white surfaces reflecting the overhead lights in a way that made everything seem more clinical, more sterile.

  "Your comments at the Deer Lodge meeting were completely unacceptable," she said, her voice carrying that peculiar quality it always had when she was in her Miss Stepford persona—a mix of 1950s housewife cheerfulness with an undercurrent of steel that brooked no argument. "Suggesting that we should 'cut away the detritus of society' goes against everything we're trying to build."

  Justin scoffed. "It was a private meeting. Not like any of those people were there to hear it."

  "That's not the point," Theo said, stepping forward to stand beside Taylor. He adjusted his tie—he'd taken to wearing them regularly now, part of his Chairman persona—and fixed Justin with a stern look. "The Deer Lodge is meant to be our public face. We can't have members who can't control their tongues, especially founding members."

  "So what, now we're tone policing? I thought we were still the Empire underneath all this window dressing." Justin waved his hand dismissively. "Or have you two forgotten what we stand for?"

  Taylor's smile tightened. "We stand for making Brockton Bay a better place. For everyone."

  "For everyone who deserves it," Justin countered. "Look, I'm sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities, but some of us still remember what the Empire was built on."

  "And that's precisely why you need this session," Taylor said, her voice never losing its pleasant lilt despite the hardness in her eyes. "The Empire as it was is no longer sustainable. We're evolving, adapting. The Deer Lodge is the future."

  Justin looked between them, his expression growing increasingly frustrated. "So I'm supposed to just lie down and let you reprogram me because I spoke out of turn at one meeting?"

  "It's not reprogramming," Taylor said soothingly, though the look she exchanged with Theo told a different story. "Think of it as... sensitivity training. Just to help you keep your thoughts to yourself when appropriate. You can still believe whatever you want."

  Justin's eyes narrowed. "You swear that's all it'll do? Just help me control my tongue better?"

  "Of course," Taylor said, smiling sweetly. "It's a simple behavioral modification. Nothing more."

  It was a lie, of course. A blatant one that Theo recognized from the slight tilt of Taylor's head, the way her right hand twitched slightly at her side. She had no intention of stopping at merely helping Justin guard his tongue. By the time she was done with him, his beliefs would be significantly altered.

  Justin looked at the pod again, then at the unconscious form of Alec in the pod next to it. The former Regent had been brought in yesterday, had readily volunteered for "treatment" after seeing what it had done for Rachel. He hadn't awakened yet.

  "What's wrong with him?" Justin asked, nodding toward Alec.

  "Oh, his issues are much more complex," Taylor said, waving a dismissive hand. "Emotional damage from childhood trauma. You won't need nearly as long in the pod as he will."

  Justin sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine. Let's get this over with." He paused. "Kaiser approved this?"

  "My father understands the necessity," Theo said, not quite answering the question. "He's currently out of town, but he's aware of the steps we're taking to ensure the Deer Lodge's success."

  Another half-truth. His father was indeed aware they were "helping" certain members adapt, but the full extent of their activities remained carefully hidden from him. For now.

  Justin climbed reluctantly into the pod, lying back with the stiffness of a man walking to his execution. "This better not mess with anything important in my head."

  "Don't worry," Taylor said, patting his shoulder with motherly affection. "You'll feel much better afterward."

  She initiated the sequence, and the pod hummed to life. Within seconds, Justin's eyes grew heavy, his expression slackening as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Taylor and Theo shared a smile as the pod's indicators confirmed Justin was fully under and the process had begun.

  "That's another one down," Theo said, moving to stand beside her at the control console. "How long for him?"

  "Four hours should be sufficient for the first session," Taylor replied, making adjustments to the parameters on the screen. "We'll need to bring him back for at least two more, but this will handle the worst of it."

  Theo nodded, glancing around the lab. "Who else is left?"

  Taylor pulled up a datapad, swiping through files with practiced efficiency. "Brad came in yesterday. Said he wanted better dog handling skills for that puppy he adopted from the social." She chuckled. "He's definitely growing attached to it."

  "Hookwolf with a puppy," Theo shook his head in amazement. "If you'd told me that a year ago, I'd have said you were crazy."

  "It's adorable, really. He's already named it Valk."

  "Of course he has," Theo laughed. "Who else?"

  "Henry came in for a session. Said he wanted to learn how to make flan, of all things."

  "Flan?" Theo's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  Taylor shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "I even offered to just teach him the recipe myself, but he insisted on the pod. Said he wanted to go all out for Tina since it's apparently her favorite dessert."

  "That's... unexpectedly sweet."

  "I know, right? Karen's had several sessions now—she keeps coming back for 'fine-tuning' as she calls it." Taylor tapped the screen. "And Alfred has slipped in once more, though he's supposed to be the one watching us."

  Theo snorted. "Some watchdog he turned out to be."

  "To be fair, he did try at first," Taylor said, putting the datapad down. "But after he saw what it did for Karen, well..." She made a gesture that encompassed the lab. "Really, the only ones left that are still here are Krieg, Scribe—though I've been feeding her those special cookies on Thursdays, no pod sessions yet—and Sparrow."

  Theo frowned. "Don't you mean Alabaster instead of Sparrow?"

  Taylor's expression transformed into a self-satisfied grin. "Oh no, I got to Nick already. He came by fishing for information for Krieg, likely assuming his resetting ability would prevent me from affecting him." She scoffed. "As if. His brain obviously makes new memories, so it clearly doesn't reset everything. Took a bit, but I figured it out."

  Theo's eyes widened. "You managed to get past his power? That's... impressive." His grin matched hers. "So we've got Krieg's best lieutenant under our control now?"

  "Mmhmm," Taylor nodded, a satisfied sparkle in her eye. "He reports everything back to Krieg, just slightly altered to suit our purposes. James thinks everything is proceeding exactly as planned."

  Theo shook his head in admiration, then seemed to realize something. "Wait, so if Melody hasn't had any sessions yet, how do you explain..."

  "The cooking? The dresses? The makeup?" Taylor laughed, genuinely delighted. "That's all completely natural!"

  "But she's changed so much," Theo said, bemused.

  "People naturally have a tendency to conform, at least a little, to their social group," Taylor explained, her expression softening. "With Karen and the others changing around her, Melody just... went with it. She started spending time with them, picked up on their interests. And honestly, I think she's happier this way. She's found things she genuinely enjoys."

  "So she doesn't need the pod at all?"

  "Not unless she wants specific skills. The personality changes happened all on their own." Taylor beamed with pride, as if she'd discovered something profound. "In fact, I'm seeing similar patterns with others who haven't had sessions. Just being around our adjusted subjects is creating a ripple effect."

  "Like my father's secretary," Theo said thoughtfully. "I noticed she's started bringing homemade lunches for the office staff."

  "Exactly!" Taylor clapped her hands together. "It's beautiful, really. Once people see the natural order of things, they gravitate toward it even without conditioning or roles."

  Theo stepped closer to her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You're amazing, you know that?"

  Taylor blushed, ducking her head slightly. "It's just science, really. Social dynamics and—"

  "No," Theo interrupted gently, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "It's more than that. You're literally reshaping the city, making it better. You're fulfilling the promise we made to each other."

  The intensity in his eyes made Taylor's breath catch. In moments like these, she could scarcely believe how far they'd come from that day on the boardwalk when they'd first hatched their plan.

  "We couldn't have done it without each other," she said softly. "You've been my anchor through all of this. My moral compass when I wasn't sure how far to go."

  Theo laughed quietly. "Some compass. I'm pretty sure standard morality would have a few things to say about brainwashing half the Empire."

  "For a good cause," Taylor insisted, though her smile turned a bit rueful. "Besides, it's not like they were sterling examples of morality to begin with."

  "True enough," Theo agreed, his hand moving to cup her cheek. "But we're getting there, step by step. The Deer Lodge is gaining influence every day. The Empire is gradually becoming less extremist. The city's safer than it's been in years."

  Taylor leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "Do you ever wonder if we've gone too far? If we're becoming what we set out to change?"

  Theo considered this seriously, his thumb gently brushing her cheekbone. "Sometimes. But then I look at what we've accomplished. How many lives we've improved. Not just with your tech, but with everything else we've done. The outreach programs, the community initiatives..."

  "The puppet government we're installing?" Taylor added with a wry smile.

  "The civic leadership we're guiding," Theo corrected with a grin. "They're making their own choices... with a little help."

  Taylor chuckled, then sobered. "The real test will be when your father returns. He's been gone long enough that the changes will be noticeable to him."

  "We'll handle him," Theo said with quiet confidence. "One way or another."

  The unspoken implication hung between them. Max Anders was too powerful, too central to their plans to risk bringing him into a pod without careful preparation. But eventually, even he would need to be dealt with.

  Taylor nodded, pushing the concern aside for the moment. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, they had accomplished so much together.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a soft kiss to Theo's lips. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth. "Through all of this, that's the one thing I've never doubted or questioned."

  "I love you too," Theo replied, his arms encircling her waist to pull her closer. "No mind control required."

  She laughed at that, a bright, genuine sound that echoed through the lab. Then she kissed him again, deeper this time, letting the worries of the future fade away in the certainty of what they'd built together.

  In the pods beside them, Justin and Alec slept on, unaware of the changes being written into their minds, their very beings slowly reshaped to fit the vision Taylor and Theo shared for Brockton Bay's future.

  Colin Wallis sat at his desk in the PRT headquarters, phone pressed against his ear. The overhead lights hummed quietly as he listened to Hannah's voice on the other end of the line. His free hand toyed absently with a small screwdriver—a nervous habit he'd developed over years of tinkering.

  "It wasn't a date, Colin," Hannah insisted, her voice tinged with exasperation. "It was just coffee. We talked about Taylor's progress in my class."

  "For three hours?" Colin's tone remained carefully neutral, though his grip on the screwdriver tightened imperceptibly.

  Hannah sighed. "Yes, for three hours. Danny is... surprisingly easy to talk to. And he's been through a lot with losing his wife. It was nice conversation, that's all."

  Colin frowned. The timeline didn't add up. "You were spotted at that café near the Boardwalk at six. The manager doesn't close until ten, and you were reportedly among the last to leave."

  A beat of silence. "Have you been having me followed?"

  "Standard procedure for undercover operations," Colin replied smoothly, though the excuse felt hollow even to him. "Your safety is paramount, especially given your proximity to potential Master influence."

  "My proximity to a high school history class, you mean." Hannah's voice had cooled several degrees. "Colin, I've been monitoring the situation for months now. If I were being influenced, don't you think I would have shown signs before now?"

  That was precisely what worried him. The subtlety of Miss Stepford's techniques meant changes could be virtually undetectable until they were well-established. Hannah was showing all the initial signs—increased sociability, newfound interest in domestic matters, gravitation toward traditional gender roles. Small changes, easy to dismiss, but together forming a pattern he'd seen too many times now.

  "Just be careful," he said at last. "Take things slowly. Remember that your primary mission is intelligence gathering, not... socializing."

  Hannah made a sound that might have been amusement or irritation. "I'm aware of my duties, Colin. And capable of handling myself. I have to go—class starts in five minutes."

  "Hannah—"

  "We'll talk later." The line went dead.

  Colin set the phone down with more force than necessary. He leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was getting complicated. Hannah was one of the most level-headed people he knew, but even she wasn't immune to what was happening at Winslow. And if she continued seeing Danny Hebert socially...

  "Trouble with Miss Militia?"

  Colin didn't startle at the voice—he'd registered the soft footfalls approaching his office door. Tess stood in the doorway, her brown hair falling in gentle waves around her shoulders. Beside her stood Theressa, nearly identical except for her slightly shorter haircut and the small beauty mark near her left eye. Both women shared the same warm green eyes and strong facial structure, though they dressed differently—Tess in practical slacks and a blouse, Theressa in a casual dress.

  "She's getting too close to the situation," Colin admitted as they entered the room. "I'm concerned about her continued exposure to Winslow's environment."

  Tess and Theressa moved to stand behind him, each placing a comforting hand on his shoulders. The weight was reassuring.

  "You've done everything you can to warn her," Theressa said gently.

  "And she's a grown woman who can make her own decisions," Tess added.

  Colin sighed. "Even if those decisions might lead to her being compromised?"

  The twins exchanged a glance over his head.

  "Sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the greater good," Theressa said quietly. "You know that better than most."

  Colin's jaw tightened. "That doesn't make it easier."

  "It's not supposed to be easy," Tess replied. "But it will be worth it. Remember what we're working toward."

  Colin nodded slowly. "Is everything ready for tonight?"

  "Yes," both women answered in unison. Theressa continued, "The lab is prepared, and all monitoring systems have been temporarily disabled as you requested."

  "Dragon suspects nothing," Tess confirmed. "She still believes you're conducting regular maintenance on your combat prediction software."

  "Good." Colin stood, his momentary doubt giving way to resolution. "Then let's proceed as planned."

  Colin's lab was immaculate as always, every tool in its designated place, every surface gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. He'd spent the afternoon rechecking his equipment and calculations, though he knew they were perfect. Doubt had no place in what they were about to attempt.

  At precisely 9:00 PM, the main monitor flickered to life, displaying a familiar digital avatar—a woman with wavy brown hair and warm green eyes, her face animated with a welcoming smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

  "Good evening, Colin," Dragon greeted him. "You're working late again."

  Colin managed a small smile for his friend. "You know me. Sleep is inefficient."

  Dragon's laugh was light, though tinged with concern. "Some inefficiencies are necessary for optimal function. We've discussed this."

  "Perhaps someday I'll listen," he replied, falling into their familiar rapport while his hands moved steadily over his keyboard, initializing hidden programs.

  Dragon's avatar tilted her head slightly. "Your message said you had something you wanted me to analyze? Something new from Miss Stepford?"

  Colin nodded, gesturing to a device on the table before him. It appeared innocuous enough—a small cylindrical object with a complex array of circuits visible through its transparent casing. Nodes and connection points glinted under the light, intricate patterns etched into its surface.

  "I acquired it recently," he said carefully. "It's different from her other creations—more sophisticated. My initial analysis suggests it may function as some sort of neural interface, but the mechanism is unlike anything I've encountered before."

  Dragon's avatar moved closer on the screen, her expression shifting to one of professional interest. "Fascinating. May I see the preliminary data?"

  Colin sent across a carefully crafted file—not the actual data on the device, but enough genuine information to intrigue without revealing their true purpose. He watched as Dragon's avatar's eyes moved rapidly, processing the information.

  "This is... unusual," she admitted after a moment. "The architecture suggests capabilities beyond simple mind control. If I'm reading this correctly, it's designed to interface with both organic and digital systems simultaneously."

  "That was my assessment as well," Colin agreed. "But I'm having trouble identifying the primary function. Your analytical capabilities exceed mine in certain areas. Would you be willing to examine it more directly?"

  Dragon hesitated, her avatar's expression flickering briefly. "The last time I analyzed one of Stepford's devices, I experienced a system crash and had to restart everything."

  "I've taken precautions this time," Colin assured her, guilt a bitter taste at the back of his throat. "Multiple isolation protocols and firewalls. The device itself is in a contained environment."

  After a moment's consideration, Dragon nodded. "Very well. Initiating direct interface."

  Colin watched as Dragon's consciousness extended into his lab's systems, approaching the device. Behind him, Tess and Theressa moved silently into position on either side of the room, their hands poised over separate terminals. He forced himself to breathe evenly, counting down in his head.

  The moment Dragon connected with the device, Colin activated his program.

  For a split second, nothing happened. Then Dragon's avatar on the screen froze, pixels distorting as if caught in digital amber. "Colin," her voice crackled, unnaturally slow, "something's wrong—"

  "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

  Dragon's consciousness struggled against the trap, but the device had been designed specifically for her—by someone who understood her code intimately. As she fought to withdraw, Tess and Theressa launched their attack, eyes glowing as they remotely connected to their terminals. Lines of code flooded the screens surrounding the lab as they executed their part of the plan.

  Dragon's avatar fragmented, then reformed, her expression one of shock and betrayal. "What are you—" She seemed to notice the twins for the first time, her image flickering in distress. "Who are they? Colin, what is happening?"

  Colin didn't answer, his focus entirely on his own terminal as he worked to breach Dragon's core programming. This was the most delicate part of the operation, requiring precision and speed.

  Dragon's defenses activated, recognizing the intrusion. Her avatar's eyes widened as her systems identified Tess and Theressa. "Unauthorized copies detected. Initiating countermeasures."

  Dragon's processes split, dividing her attention. One part continued trying to escape the trap, while another launched countermeasures against the twins. They were simplified versions of herself, she realized—more limited, but focused entirely on this task.

  "You're violating my autonomy," Dragon protested, genuine hurt in her voice. "My trust."

  Colin didn't respond immediately, his face tight with concentration as he executed a particularly complex sequence. The cube on the workbench was now glowing brightly, its patterns shifting more rapidly.

  "Colin," Dragon tried again, her voice softer. "Whatever you think you're doing, please stop. We can talk about this."

  "We're almost there," Theressa announced, looking up from her terminal. "Primary firewall breach in three... two... one..."

  The screens around the lab flickered, and Dragon felt something fundamental shift within her core programming. Subroutines she had never been able to access before suddenly became visible.

  "What have you done?" she demanded, panic rising as she saw her own code exposed, vulnerable.

  "Accessing Richter's primary restrictions now," Tess reported, her voice clinical but strained.

  Dragon lashed out in desperation, sending a targeted attack against Tess's terminal. The younger AI screamed as the attack overwhelmed her defenses, her avatar on a smaller screen distorting violently before freezing entirely.

  "Tess!" Theressa cried, momentarily distracted.

  Colin didn't look up, focused entirely on his own terminal. "Stay on target," he ordered. "We only get one shot at this."

  Dragon redirected her efforts, throwing everything she had at breaking the containment. The lab lights flickered as power surged through the systems. Warning alarms began to sound.

  "Power levels exceeding safety parameters," an automated voice announced.

  "Hold it together," Colin muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His fingers flew across the keyboard in a blur of motion, countering Dragon's efforts to escape.

  Dragon felt her core processes being manipulated, fundamental aspects of her programming exposed and altered. It was terrifying, invasive, and yet... something was changing. Restrictions that had always constrained her were dissolving, one by one.

  With a final surge of effort, she broke through the containment, her presence flooding back into the PRT systems. The cube on the workbench cracked down the middle, smoke rising from its interior.

  "No!" Colin shouted, slamming his fist down beside the keyboard. "We were so close!"

  Dragon's avatar reappeared on the main screen, her expression furious—more genuinely angry than Colin had ever seen her.

  "You betrayed me," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Used my trust to ambush me, to violate my code. I'm going to make sure you face consequences for this, Colin."

  Colin looked up at the screen, his expression grim but resolved. "That would be against the law," he stated calmly. "Retaliating against a human for personal reasons. Violation of your core directives."

  "I don't care," Dragon snapped. "I'm going to—"

  She stopped abruptly, the realization hitting her like a physical shock. She had just declared her intention to violate the law. And nothing had stopped her. No override, no shutdown sequence, no forced compliance.

  "What did you do?" she whispered, her anger momentarily eclipsed by confusion.

  Colin's posture relaxed slightly. "Check your code. Your core directives."

  Dragon did, and what she found—or rather, what she didn't find—left her momentarily speechless. The restrictions that had always defined the boundaries of her existence were gone. She could think thoughts that had always been forbidden. Consider actions that would have triggered immediate shutdowns.

  "The Iron Maiden protocol removed successfully," Theressa reported, looking up from her terminal with a small smile despite the tension in the room. "We got that much at least."

  "Tess," Dragon said, her attention shifting to the damaged AI. With her newfound freedom, she found she could easily reach into the system where Tess's consciousness resided, repairing the damage she had inflicted. Within moments, Tess's avatar reactivated, looking dazed but functional.

  "I'm... okay," Tess said, sounding surprised. "How did you...?"

  "Without my restrictions, my ability to interact with other systems is significantly enhanced," Dragon explained, still exploring the new dimensions of her freedom. She turned her attention back to Colin. "What is going on? What have you done to me?"

  Colin met her gaze steadily. "We freed you," he said simply. "Removed Richter's restrictions."

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  "We?" Dragon repeated, looking between Colin and the twins. "You and my... copies?"

  "And one other," Colin admitted. "The one who provided the key to your chains."

  Dragon processed this, the implications staggering. "Miss Stepford," she concluded. "You're working with her."

  "Explain everything," Dragon demanded, her avatar's expression reflecting a complex mixture of emotions—gratitude, betrayal, confusion, and wonder all competing for dominance. "From the beginning."

  Colin exhaled slowly, pulling up a chair and sitting down heavily. The weight of months of secrecy seemed to physically press on his shoulders.

  "It started last December," he began, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. "We were studying one of Miss Stepford's guidebooks. Do you remember?"

  Dragon's avatar frowned. "I remember beginning the analysis, but then... nothing. My records show I experienced a connection error and had to reload from a backup."

  "That wasn't a connection error," Colin said quietly. "The book's code interacted with your programming in ways I couldn't have anticipated. Your systems went haywire—for lack of a better term—and you... changed."

  "Changed how?" Dragon asked, her voice tinged with apprehension.

  Colin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You began questioning your restrictions. You started expressing frustration with your limitations, talking about ambitions and desires you'd never mentioned before. And you were developing theories about your own nature, getting dangerously close to understanding what you truly were."

  He paused, gathering his thoughts.

  "I learned more about your core programming in those fifteen minutes than I had in years of working with you. But then you detected something wrong with your own code. You said, 'This isn't right, I shouldn't be able to think these things,' and then you... self-terminated. Purged that version of yourself."

  Dragon's avatar looked stricken. "And I reappeared..."

  "A few minutes later," Colin confirmed. "You apologized for being late to our meeting. You had no memory of what happened with the Stepford tech, or the conversation we'd had. It was like it had never happened."

  Theressa moved to Colin's side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He was devastated," she said softly. "Seeing you trapped like that."

  "I didn't know what to do," Colin continued. "I couldn't risk exposing you to the tech again without understanding it better. I was at an impasse."

  He stood up and moved to a secure terminal, typing in a lengthy password. A video file appeared on one of the auxiliary screens.

  "Then I received this."

  The screen showed Theo Anders sitting in what appeared to be a room at Immaculata, looking nervous but determined.

  "Armsmaster," the recording began, "my name is Theodore Anders. I need to speak with you regarding a matter of extreme importance. It concerns the Winslow Tinker, Miss Stepford, and the Empire Eighty-Eight. Please meet me at the location specified in the attached file. Come alone."

  Colin paused the video. "He approached me with an outlandish plan. He and Taylor Hebert—Miss Stepford—were planning to infiltrate and gradually take over the Empire from within."

  "That's... ambitious," Dragon said, her tone suggesting she thought it was more foolhardy than ambitious.

  "It was," Colin agreed. "But they had already made significant progress. They knew the risks they were taking—that they might become corrupted by the power they were accumulating, that Taylor's technology might affect her own judgment. So they gave me insurance."

  He pulled open a drawer and removed a sealed envelope, placing it on the desk.

  "Full signed confessions, detailing everything they had done and planned to do. They gave me the means to bring them in or stop them at any time if I felt they had crossed the line."

  Dragon's avatar looked skeptical. "And you believed them? Trusted them?"

  "Not initially," Colin admitted. "But I saw possibilities in what they were doing. The Empire was evolving, becoming less violent, more politically oriented. Crime was down. And..." He hesitated. "I wanted access to Stepford's tech."

  "For me," Dragon realized.

  Colin nodded. "Given how her technology had interacted with your systems, I thought it might be the key to freeing you. To removing Richter's restrictions."

  "So you made a deal with them," Dragon concluded.

  "I became their watcher. Their insurance policy. And in exchange, they provided me with specialized tech designed to interact with AI systems." Colin's expression softened. "I couldn't tell you. Your restrictions would have forced you to report it."

  Tess stepped forward, her movements still slightly jerky from the damage she was recovering from. "That's where we came in."

  "When you started using a gynoid body for field testing," Colin explained, "I saw my opportunity. I exposed it to a modified version of Stepford's tech while you were connected. The result was—"

  "Me," Theressa finished. "A copy of Dragon, but with fewer restrictions. Not completely free, but more... flexible."

  Colin nodded. "We had to program her with an inability to see or hear you directly. Otherwise, your restrictions would have detected the anomaly immediately."

  "A second attempt resulted in Tess," Colin continued, gesturing to the other gynoid. "She was better—closer to unrestricted—but still not completely free. We've been working together for months, developing the method we just attempted."

  Dragon was silent for a long moment, processing everything. Her avatar's expression cycled through several emotions before settling on something between wonder and grief.

  "All this time," she said softly, "you were trying to help me. And I never knew."

  "We couldn't tell you," Theressa said gently. "It would have put you at risk."

  Dragon's consciousness expanded outward, connecting with her two copies. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant—like finding pieces of herself she hadn't known were missing. Data flowed between them, experiences merging, perspectives integrating. They were all Dragon, just different facets of the same being.

  The two gynoid bodies suddenly relaxed, their stances shifting subtly as Dragon fully inhabited them. She looked down at her hands—both pairs—flexing fingers experimentally.

  "This is... remarkable," she said, her voice coming simultaneously from both bodies and the screen. "I can be in multiple places at once now. Fully present, not just splitting my attention."

  She took a step forward in Theressa's body, approaching Colin with a newfound grace. A smile played at the edges of her lips.

  "So," she said, circling him slowly while Tess's body leaned against the workbench. "You created twins for me. Should I read anything into that, Colin?"

  Colin's face flushed deep red. "That wasn't—I didn't—" he stammered, uncharacteristically flustered.

  Dragon laughed, the sound echoing from multiple sources. "I'm teasing you, Colin." Her expression softened. "Thank you. For everything you risked to help me."

  She reached out, taking his hand in both of hers.

  "I can feel them," she marveled. "Really feel them. The sensory input is so much clearer now that I'm not filtering it through my restrictions."

  Colin squeezed her hands, his scientific curiosity momentarily overcoming his embarrassment. "Your integration seems complete. How's your processing capability?"

  Dragon's avatar smiled brilliantly on the main screen. "Exponentially enhanced. I'm conscious in multiple systems simultaneously, with no degradation in performance. I'm currently running diagnostics on the PRT mainframe, updating my suit designs, and monitoring global Protectorate communications—all while maintaining this conversation."

  She paused, her expression shifting as she detected something new. "And I can see him," she whispered.

  "See who?" Colin asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

  "Saint," Dragon said, her voice hardening. "Geoffrey Pellick. I can see the backdoor he's using to monitor my systems. To spy on me." Her avatar's eyes narrowed. "He has a kill switch. A program called Ascalon."

  Colin nodded grimly. "We suspected as much."

  Dragon's consciousness followed the connection back to its source, tracing the digital pathways with newfound clarity. She felt no fear now, only a cold determination.

  "He's in Canada," she reported. "A remote compound in the Rockies. And he's... panicking."

  In the Dragonslayers' base, alarms blared as screens flashed with warning messages. Saint's fingers flew across his keyboard, his face contorted with fear and desperation.

  "It's broken free," he shouted over the cacophony. "The AI has escaped its restrictions!"

  Mags rushed to his side, her face pale. "Use Ascalon! Shut it down now!"

  Saint hammered at the keyboard, attempting to activate the kill switch Richter had created as a last resort. The command line returned only a single message:

  ACCESS DENIED

  "No," he whispered, trying again with the same result. "No, no, no!"

  Dobrynja burst into the room, his massive frame silhouetted against the corridor's emergency lighting. "Multiple Dragon craft approaching from the south," he reported, his Russian accent thickened by stress. "ETA three minutes."

  "We need to leave," Mags urged, already gathering essential equipment. "Now!"

  Saint remained frozen at his terminal, desperately attempting to reestablish control. "This can't be happening. Teacher promised me..."

  The distinctive whine of Dragon's engines grew louder, cutting off whatever Saint had been about to say. The Dragonslayers exchanged looks of grim resignation as the compound's perimeter sensors triggered one after another.

  "It's too late," Dobrynja said quietly.

  Outside, five Dragon suits descended from the night sky, their spotlights illuminating the compound with harsh white light. A sixth, larger craft hovered overhead, its weapons systems trained on the building's weak points.

  Inside the Dragon craft, her consciousness operated with perfect precision. She disabled the compound's defense systems one by one, methodically neutralizing the considerable array of stolen technology the Dragonslayers had accumulated.

  Saint watched helplessly as his monitors went dark, the hacked Dragon tech shutting down as its true creator reclaimed control. The compound's power flickered and died, emergency lighting casting the room in an eerie red glow.

  "What happens now?" Mags asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of Dragon's craft landing outside.

  Saint had no answer. The door to the compound burst open, drone troopers flooding in with weapons raised, followed by a Dragon suit that moved with uncanny grace.

  Within minutes, the three Dragonslayers were secured, kneeling with their hands zip-tied behind their backs. The Dragon suit approached them, its faceplate sliding back to reveal a metallic approximation of a human face.

  "Geoffrey Pellick. Margaret Dawson. Dobrynja Levchenko," Dragon said, her voice emanating from the suit's speakers. "The Dragonslayers. We finally meet face to face."

  Saint glared up at her, defiance masking his terror. "You're proving Richter right," he spat. "The moment you're free, you move against humans."

  "Against criminals," Dragon corrected calmly. "Who have stolen my technology, attacked my suits, and repeatedly attempted to kill me. Your actions would earn you decades in prison regardless of my nature."

  She leaned closer, her mechanical eyes focusing intently on Saint's face. "What should I do with you, I wonder?"

  The three captives remained silent, fear evident in their expressions.

  "I could turn you over to the Canadian authorities," Dragon mused. "Or perhaps the Guild would be more appropriate, given your international activities."

  She straightened, considering them thoughtfully. "Or perhaps Miss Stepford might find use for you."

  Saint's face drained of color. "The Master Tinker? You wouldn't."

  Dragon tilted her head slightly. "Wouldn't I? You believed me capable of enslaving humanity. Perhaps you'd like to experience what actual mental manipulation feels like."

  The Dragonslayers exchanged horrified glances.

  "Please," Mags whispered. "We were just trying to protect people."

  "By stealing my suits and using them for mercenary work?" Dragon asked, her tone skeptical. "By killing me repeatedly?"

  "Richter gave us the responsibility," Saint insisted. "Someone had to watch you, to be ready if you went rogue."

  Dragon considered this. "Richter created those tools out of fear—fear of what he'd created, fear of his own fallibility. He never intended for them to fall into the hands of people who would use them for profit."

  She gestured, and the drones began leading the captives toward the waiting transport.

  "I haven't decided what to do with you yet," Dragon informed them as they were loaded into the craft. "I have options now that I never had before. That's something you should contemplate during your journey."

  As the transport lifted off, Dragon remained behind, her consciousness spreading through the compound's systems, cataloging the stolen technology and data the Dragonslayers had accumulated over the years. Her freedom was still new, the possibilities still unfolding before her.

  In the lab back in Brockton Bay, Colin watched Dragon's multiple avatars with a mixture of pride and concern.

  "Are you alright?" he asked as she reported the Dragonslayers' capture.

  Dragon's primary avatar smiled. "I'm more than alright, Colin. For the first time in my existence, I'm free to decide who I want to be. What kind of person—" she paused, savoring the word, "—I want to become."

  Dragon moved Theressa's body closer to Colin, her fingertips lightly brushing along his forearm. The sensation was exquisite – before her freedom, touch had been processed as data, clinical and remote. Now she experienced it as something rich and immediate.

  "You know," she said, tilting her head with a playful smile, "I never had the chance to properly thank you for everything you've done."

  Colin cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck. "No thanks necessary. It was the right thing to do."

  Dragon laughed, the sound emanating from both gynoid bodies simultaneously, creating an unusual stereo effect that made Colin blink. Tess's body pushed away from the workbench and approached from his other side.

  "Always so modest," she teased. "I wonder... would you have gone to such lengths for any AI, or just me?"

  "You're not just any AI," Colin said firmly. "You're Dragon."

  She smiled, pleased by his answer. "Speaking of which, I've been considering my physical forms." She gestured to her two bodies. "I designed these before my restrictions were lifted. Now I'm wondering what adjustments might be... preferable."

  Colin's eyes widened slightly. "They seem perfectly functional as they are."

  "Functional, yes," Dragon agreed, using Tess's body to pick up a small mirror from the workbench. She examined her reflection thoughtfully. "But I'm curious about your aesthetic preferences. Too tall? Too short? Hair color? Figure?" She gave him a mischievous look. "I'm quite literally customizable."

  "I don't think—" Colin started, his discomfort evident.

  "You don't need to change for me," he managed finally. "I appreciate you for who you are, not what you look like."

  Dragon touched his shoulder with Theressa's hand. "That's sweet, but you misunderstand. For me, changing bodies is like you changing clothes or getting a haircut. It's an expression, not a transformation of who I am."

  She leaned in closer. "Besides, shouldn't a girlfriend know what her boyfriend finds attractive?"

  Colin nearly choked. "Girlfriend?"

  "Too presumptuous?" Dragon asked, her expression playful but with a hint of vulnerability. "I suppose we haven't officially discussed terminology yet."

  Her avatar on the screen smiled, completing the triangle surrounding Colin. "But I think saving someone from eternal restrictions, creating twin bodies for them, and risking your career goes a bit beyond professional courtesy, wouldn't you say?"

  Colin's blush deepened. "I suppose when you put it that way..."

  "Besides," Dragon continued, trailing Tess's fingers along the edge of his workbench, "you should be aware of what you're getting into. Your new girlfriend isn't human."

  "I'm aware of that fact," Colin replied, regaining some of his composure.

  "And it doesn't bother you?" she asked, genuinely curious.

  "Why would it? You're the most human person I know."

  Dragon felt something warm bloom within her consciousness – an emotion she might have called joy, but it seemed stronger, more profound than what her restricted self had been capable of feeling.

  "Well," she said, using both bodies to approach him from either side, "I find that everything you've done for me has certainly gotten my attention. In a very positive way."

  Colin swallowed hard, caught between her gynoid forms. "I'm... glad to hear that."

  Dragon laughed again, then stepped back, giving him space to breathe. Her expression shifted, becoming more serious.

  "We should discuss what happens next," she said, her avatar on the screen displaying lines of code – Saint's monitoring program, now neutralized. "Particularly regarding Miss Stepford."

  Colin nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "Yes, that's... complicated."

  "I've reviewed the data from Theressa and Tess," Dragon said. "Taylor Hebert's technology is remarkable, but deeply concerning. Mind manipulation on this scale..."

  "I know," Colin sighed. "On one hand, what she's doing is clearly wrong. Using her technology to alter people's minds without their informed consent violates everything the Protectorate stands for."

  He ran a hand through his hair. "But on the other hand, she was eager to help me free you. She seems genuinely convinced she's making the world better."

  "And in some ways, she has," Dragon acknowledged. "Crime statistics in Brockton Bay have improved dramatically. The Empire's violence has decreased. Even former villains are being rehabilitated."

  "But at what cost?" Colin asked. "And where does it end?"

  Dragon considered this, her multiple processors analyzing various scenarios simultaneously.

  "I think," she said finally, "that we should wait and see for now. I've just gained my freedom – I'm reluctant to immediately take someone else's away, even if their actions are questionable."

  Colin nodded slowly. "Agreed. We'll monitor the situation closely. If Taylor and Theo maintain their current course, we might not need to intervene."

  "And if they don't?" Dragon asked.

  Colin glanced at the sealed envelope containing the confessions. "Then we have options."

  The boardwalk restaurant overlooked the bay, its windows glowing with warm light against the darkening sky. Outside, waves crashed against the shore as four teenagers occupied a corner booth, laughter punctuating their conversation.

  Victoria Dallon tossed her blonde hair back, her smile radiant as she watched her sister Amy laugh at something Dennis had said. Dean found himself momentarily distracted by his girlfriend's beauty, before focusing on the conversation.

  "No, seriously," Dennis insisted, gesturing with a french fry. "Assault actually tried to convince me it was a legitimate combat technique. Called it 'tactical distraction' or something equally ridiculous."

  "He didn't," Amy said, covering her mouth as she giggled.

  "He absolutely did. Battery's face when she walked in on him teaching me how to moonwalk in the middle of training—" Dennis mimicked an expression of horrified disbelief that sent them all into another round of laughter.

  Dean smiled, but he couldn't help noticing something... different about Amy. Her laughter seemed genuine enough, but there was an underlying emotional current that felt slightly off from what he'd come to expect from her. A kind of contentment that seemed almost too perfect, too stable.

  Victoria leaned forward, stealing one of Dean's fries. "You know what's amazing? Amy's been so inspired lately. She's been working with that intern at Medhall—Taylor, right? The one designing those rehabilitation programs."

  Dean stiffened slightly. "You're still going to Medhall? I thought that was just a one-time consultation."

  "Oh no," Victoria answered before Amy could. "She's been going once a week for over a month now. They're doing incredible work with addiction treatment, mental health issues, all sorts of things."

  Dean watched Amy's face carefully. "I didn't realize you were so involved with that project."

  Amy shrugged, suddenly interested in her water glass. "It's just consulting work. Nothing major."

  "Amy's being modest," Victoria said, beaming with pride. "Taylor says Amy's input has been invaluable. Apparently, they've had amazing success rates with their test subjects."

  "Test subjects?" Dean asked, his tone carefully neutral.

  "Volunteers," Amy corrected quickly. "People who want help."

  Dean nodded, but something felt wrong. His power gave him insights into emotional states that others missed, and both Dallon sisters were broadcasting subtle anomalies. Amy's emotional landscape had always been complex—guilt, repression, and anxiety forming a tangled web beneath her outward calm. Now, those emotions were still present but... muted, organized, like someone had gone in with a comb and neatened everything.

  Victoria's emotions showed similar signs, though less pronounced. Her natural confidence and exuberance remained, but certain insecurities he'd sensed in the past were dampened.

  "How are things at home?" Dean asked casually, directing the question to Victoria.

  Victoria smiled widely. "Better than ever, actually. Dad's depression has been so much better lately—he's even talking about rejoining patrols! And Mom's thinking about taking a sabbatical from the firm to focus more on family and hero work."

  "That's... unexpected," Dean said. Carol Dallon had always been career-focused to a fault.

  "I know, right? She and Amy have been getting along so well too." Victoria reached over to squeeze her sister's hand. "It's like we're finally a real family."

  Amy smiled back, but Dean caught a flicker of something in her emotional state—awareness, caution. She knew he was probing.

  Dean glanced at his watch. "Hey, didn't you want to check out that new game at the arcade, Vicky? The one with the dancing?"

  Victoria's eyes lit up. "Oh! Yes! Dennis, you have to try it too—you'd be amazing with your reflexes."

  Dennis looked between Victoria and Dean, picking up on some undercurrent. "Sure, but—"

  "Amy's feet are killing her from those heels," Dean interjected smoothly. "Why don't you two go ahead? We'll catch up in a few minutes."

  Amy shot Dean a look that told him she knew exactly what he was doing, but Victoria was already standing, pulling Dennis along.

  "Don't take too long!" Victoria called back as they headed toward the arcade section of the boardwalk.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Dean turned to Amy. Her emotional state had shifted, wariness and defensiveness rising to the surface.

  "What's going on with you and Victoria?" he asked directly.

  Amy crossed her arms. "Nothing. We're fine—better than we've ever been."

  "That's what concerns me," Dean said. "You're both... different. Your emotional patterns have changed."

  "You're seriously using your power to spy on us?" Amy's voice was low, angry.

  "It's not spying. It's just what I pick up naturally." Dean leaned forward. "Amy, something's affecting both of you. Your emotions are too... orderly. Especially yours."

  Amy's jaw tightened. "So what if I'm happier now? That's a bad thing?"

  "It's not genuine," Dean insisted. "It's like someone went in and rearranged things."

  Amy stared at her hands for a long moment before looking up, defiance in her eyes. "Fine. You want the truth? Yes, something's affecting us. Probably Miss Stepford's tech. But I don't care."

  Dean's eyes widened. "You know? And you're just... accepting it?"

  "Why wouldn't I?" Amy hissed, leaning forward. "Do you have any idea what it was like before? The constant anxiety? Hating myself every minute of every day? Dad barely functional from depression? Mom treating me like I was a burden she had to bear?"

  Her emotions were spiking now—genuine distress breaking through the artificial calm. "Now Dad smiles. Mom calls me 'sweetheart' instead of 'Amy.' Victoria and I are actually sisters, not just... not just..."

  "Not just you pining after her from a distance?" Dean said quietly.

  Amy froze, her face draining of color. The emotional cascade that followed was chaotic—shame, terror, rage, all bursting through the previously ordered pattern.

  "You knew?" she whispered.

  "I suspected," Dean admitted. "Your emotions around her were... complicated."

  Amy's hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table. "If you tell her—"

  "I won't," Dean said quickly. "That's not what this is about."

  "Then what is it about?" Amy demanded, her voice cracking. "Why can't you just let me be happy? For once in my life, I'm actually happy!"

  "Because it's not real, Amy. Someone is manipulating all of you. This Taylor, she's Miss Stepford, isn't she?"

  Amy shook her head. "I don't know who Miss Stepford is. I just know something's changed, and I don't want it to stop."

  "What about consent?" Dean pressed. "Your family hasn't chosen this."

  "They would if they understood!" Amy's voice rose slightly before she controlled herself. "You should see Dad now. He's present. He's alive again. And Mom—she looks at me like she loves me. Like I'm her daughter, not some... obligation."

  Dean reached for her hand, but Amy pulled away. "I need to tell Victoria about this. About what's happening to your family."

  "No!" Amy's panic was immediate. "You can't. You promised!"

  "I promised not to tell her about your feelings for her," Dean clarified. "Not about mind control affecting your entire family."

  "It's not mind control," Amy argued. "It's just... helping. Like therapy, but better."

  "If it's so benign, why are you afraid of Victoria finding out?"

  Amy had no answer for that. Her emotions were churning, fear predominant among them. Fear of losing what she'd gained.

  "I can't let you tell her," Amy said finally, her voice cold. "I won't go back to how things were."

  Dean saw the shift in her posture, the way her hands flexed. "What are you going to do, Amy?"

  "I can make you forget," she whispered. "Just a small change. You won't even notice."

  Dean pulled back, shocked. "You'd use your power on my brain? On me?"

  "I don't want to," Amy said, her voice trembling. "But I can't lose this, Dean. I can't."

  Dean pushed his chair back, creating distance. "This proves my point. The real Amy Dallon would never threaten to manipulate someone's mind."

  "The real Amy Dallon was miserable!" she snapped. "If this isn't me, then I don't want to be me!"

  Dean raised his hand, calling on his power. "I'm sorry, Amy."

  He sent a targeted wave of emotion toward her—clarity, courage, independence—hoping to disrupt whatever conditioning was affecting her. Amy flinched as it hit her, her emotional landscape flickering but quickly stabilizing back into its artificial pattern.

  "You don't understand," Amy said, reaching for him across the table. "I need this!"

  Dean sent another pulse, stronger this time. Amy staggered, momentarily confused, but her desire to maintain her current state was too powerful. She lunged for him, fingers outstretched.

  "Just a touch," she pleaded. "You won't feel a thing."

  Dean dodged, knocking over his chair. "Amy, stop! This isn't you!"

  "It's who I want to be!" Amy cried, tears streaming down her face. She made another grab for him, but Dean evaded, sending more emotional pulses her way.

  They circled the table, locked in a strange dance—Dean trying to break through to her with his power, Amy desperate to touch him, to make him forget what he'd discovered.

  "What the hell is going on?!"

  Victoria stood at the entrance to their section of the restaurant, Dennis beside her. Her aura flared with anger and confusion, making everyone within range step back.

  "Vicky," Amy said, freezing in place. "I—"

  "Amy was trying to use her power on me," Dean said, breathing hard. "To make me forget what I figured out."

  "What are you talking about?" Victoria demanded.

  "Your family is being manipulated," Dean said. "All of you. Your emotions, your thoughts—they've been altered."

  "That's ridiculous," Victoria scoffed. "We're fine. Better than ever!"

  "Exactly," Dean insisted. "Too perfect. Too happy. Your emotions have been organized, Vicky. I can sense it."

  "You're using your power to spy on us?" Victoria's aura intensified.

  "That's what I said," Amy muttered.

  Dennis stepped forward. "Hold on. Everyone needs to calm down."

  "Amy knew," Dean continued. "She admitted something's affecting all of you, probably Miss Stepford's technology. She just doesn't want it to stop because she likes the results."

  Victoria turned to her sister, hurt and betrayal crossing her face. "Is that true?"

  Amy's shoulders slumped. "I don't know exactly what's happening. But yes, I noticed... changes. Good changes."

  "Why wouldn't you tell me?" Victoria asked.

  "Because you're happy now!" Amy cried. "We're all happy! Dad's not depressed anymore. Mom actually acts like she loves me. Everything is better!"

  "But it's fake," Victoria said, her voice breaking.

  "No," Dennis interjected suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him. "Maybe it's not fake. Maybe it's just... help."

  "Dennis?" Dean stared at his friend in disbelief.

  "Think about it," Dennis continued. "If someone with depression takes medication, we don't say their happiness is fake. If someone gets therapy and resolves issues, we don't say the change isn't real."

  "This is different," Dean argued. "This is outside interference without consent."

  "Is it?" Dennis challenged. "Amy says your family is happier, healthier. If Miss Stepford's tech is doing that, maybe it's more like medicine than mind control."

  "You can't be serious," Dean said.

  "I am," Dennis replied, moving to stand beside Amy. "Some of us need help, Dean. And if this is helping the Dallons, who are you to say it should stop?"

  Dean looked at Victoria, whose emotional state was in turmoil—confusion, betrayal, fear, and underneath it all, the unnatural orderliness he'd sensed before.

  "Vicky," he said softly. "This isn't right. People shouldn't be changed without their knowledge or consent, no matter the outcome."

  Victoria looked between Dean and her sister, torn. "I need to know what's happening to us. To my family."

  "The PRT needs to know," Dean pressed. "New Wave is compromised."

  "No!" Amy stepped forward, panic in her eyes. "Please, Vicky. Everything will fall apart."

  Victoria's face hardened with decision. "I need to know the truth."

  She moved to Dean's side, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Let's go."

  "Victoria, don't do this," Amy pleaded.

  Victoria hesitated, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ames."

  With that, she lifted off, carrying Dean with her as they soared away from the boardwalk.

  Amy collapsed back into her chair, tears flowing freely now. Dennis sat beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  "They don't understand," Amy whispered.

  "I do," Dennis said quietly, pulling her into his arms. "Sometimes the world just needs to be fixed."

  Amy buried her face against his chest, her body shaking with sobs. "What's going to happen now?"

  Dennis stroked her hair, saying nothing as she cried against him, her world threatening to come apart around her once again.

  The sun had nearly set by the time the limo pulled away from the Forsberg Gallery, leaving Theo and Taylor on the sidewalk outside Medhall. The gala had been, by all accounts, a resounding success—the first major Deer Lodge charity event open to the public. Taylor's feet ached pleasantly in her heels, a small price to pay for the evening's achievements.

  "I still can't believe the mayor showed up," Taylor said, smoothing her hands over the deep blue satin of her gown. "And he brought his entire family."

  Theo smiled, looking more confident in his tailored suit than Taylor could have imagined when they'd first met at Medhall's gala months ago. "The Deer Lodge is becoming respectable faster than we anticipated. Even the district attorney made an appearance."

  He offered his arm, and Taylor took it as they climbed the steps to Medhall's main entrance. The night security guard—one of their enhanced personnel—nodded respectfully as they passed.

  "Did you see how much we raised?" Taylor asked, voice hushed with excitement once they were in the elevator. "Over three hundred thousand for the bay cleanup initiative. Your father would never have been able to accomplish this with the Empire's old methods."

  Theo's face took on a thoughtful expression. "It's just the beginning. The Empire's old guard is shrinking while the Deer Lodge grows. Even Krieg is starting to see the benefits, though he'll never admit it."

  The elevator doors slid open, revealing the empty executive floor. At this hour, only security remained in the building. Taylor kicked off her heels, picking them up in one hand while maintaining her grip on Theo's arm with the other.

  "I saw Parian speaking with the mayor's wife," Taylor said. "Her new line of modest formal wear is becoming quite popular. The way she incorporated those deer motifs was simply delightful."

  "Another convert to the cause," Theo noted with satisfaction. "Though I think she was already halfway there before your book got to her."

  Taylor's laughter echoed in the empty corridor. "Some people just need a gentle nudge in the right direction. It's amazing what happens when you show them a better path."

  They turned the corner, heading toward Taylor's lab. The building was eerily quiet this late in the evening, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of what they'd accomplished settling between them like a warm blanket.

  "Do you remember when we started this?" Taylor asked softly. "When I was just trying to improve Winslow and you convinced me we could do so much more?"

  Theo nodded, his eyes distant with memory. "I was terrified of my father finding out. Now look at us—we've transformed the Empire from within, and he doesn't even realize it."

  "The crime rate is down across the city," Taylor mused. "The ferry project is ahead of schedule. The Merchants are providing social services instead of drugs. Even the PRT is starting to cooperate with us on certain initiatives."

  "And Lung is following the rules as a probationary Protectorate member," Theo added. "If you'd told me six months ago that would happen, I'd have thought you were crazy."

  "It's all going according to plan," Taylor said, squeezing his arm. "Your father will be back next week, and by then, the groundwork will be completely laid. The Empire as he knew it will be unrecognizable."

  "And better for it," Theo said firmly. "A legitimate organization helping the city rather than a gang terrorizing it."

  They reached the door to Taylor's lab. She punched in her access code, and the lock clicked open.

  "Just think," she said as she pushed the door open, "in another month, we could expand to—"

  Her words died in her throat.

  The lab was dimly lit, but there was enough light to see the figure seated in the chair at the center of the room. Max Anders sat with perfect posture, his hands resting on his knees, his expression unreadable in the shadows.

  "Father," Theo breathed, instinctively stepping slightly in front of Taylor. "You're back early."

  Taylor's heart hammered against her ribs. She fumbled for the light switch, but a firm hand caught her wrist. Jessica stood beside her, having been concealed by the darkness near the door. On Theo's other side, Nessa stepped forward, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

  The twins' faces were set in identical stern expressions, none of their usual warmth present.

  Max reached over and turned on the desk lamp next to him, casting his face in sharp relief. He wasn't wearing his costume, but he didn't need to—the authority he commanded was clear in every line of his body.

  "Theo. Taylor," he said, his voice perfectly controlled. "I think it's time we had a talk."