Published at 3rd of March 2026 7:12 am

Chapter 12 - Bombshell (Arbiter POV)

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Sequence leads me, Titania, and Phoenix out of the conference room and through the winding hallways of the headquarters. I'm practically seething after he ambushed Titania and me with that Virtue girl. Does he think neither of us has access to the internet? She killed that innocent boy, and now we're harboring a fugitive. We've rewarded a probationary member with a promotion after murdering a civilian. Sequence is toeing a very thin line, one that is attached to a fucking landmine. All it takes is one person discovering Virtue's identity, and our branch is embroiled in a PR shit storm. He knew how Titania and I would feel, so he steamrolled us and hard-launched her as a full member of the Quinstin Heroes’ Union. Sequence pulls this kind of shit constantly, believing his intelligence and ability make him the only person deserving of autonomy, a voice, or power.

Even now, he pulls ahead of the rest of us, so it looks like he's leading. Sequence is the type of Cape I can't stand. Treating today's tragedy as a problem to be solved, a puzzle to take apart, is revolting. And Sequence isn't the only problem, merely a symptom of the overarching disease. Atonement is the kind of Cape the Heroes' Union needs the most. Someone who understands what the actual purpose of this organization is. Sequence’s stunt has left a foul taste in my mouth, and now I have to meet with a pencil-pushing desk jockey whose only interaction with crime is through statistical spreadsheets. This is the kind of shit that makes me resent being a Cape. All of this bureaucratic politicking nonsense is a waste of time. I could be drilling my team, helping search for Ares, or filing motions for my cases.

We take a left and head for the Executive Suite. A special room created to host important guests: a cushy area for dignitaries, politicians, and others who hold influence. Thinking of how tight the budget is and how a not insignificant portion of it goes to this kind of shit is sickening. Tax dollars shouldn't be used for this. I'm sure the liaison is high-ranking and with an extensive resume, but having all four Union Squad Leaders come to greet them is a bit much. It has nothing to do with my disdain for bureaucrats. I've never been the biggest fan of the BNA. A worldwide governmental body wielding an army of superpowered individuals as a borderless police force should make any sane person uncomfortable.

The automatic doors open to reveal the gaudy and needlessly extravagant room. It’s nicer than the staff cafeteria here. Hardworking support members who are the backbone of this organization, of this building’s operation, are treated worse than politicians. Luxurious, soft silk lounge chairs in a circle, each with its own resin and oak side table. A mini kitchen off to the left with a wall of liquor that would make any whiskey collector envious. Custom lighting to make the room feel more vibrant. Every fiber of my being is uneasy around this type of disgusting partiality. So wasteful.

On the other side of the room, in one of the loungechairs, is the person who must be the liaison. A mid-forties, heavy-set woman wearing a white blouse under a black suit jacket with a matching pencil skirt. She sits with her legs crossed, nude tights leading into office-appropriate heels. The woman looks disgruntled, her deep red lips open as she aggressively chews her gum. She’s holding a folder, likely containing the exact parameters of the collaboration. Sequence takes the center seat directly across from her, positioning himself as the lead in the upcoming talk. Insufferable posturing. Titania and I take the seats to either side of him.

“Good evening, Miss. I do not believe we’ve met before. I am Phoenix,” they said, standing behind the rest of us. “I mean no offense to anyone, I just can’t sit down after our previous meeting.”

“I know who you are, Phoenix,” she replied dryly. “I am your liaison from the BNA. Special Agent Annoiata, and as long as you don’t expect me to get up, I don’t care whether you sit down.”

Special Agent? So she has powers. Must be a Mentalist ability if they only sent her to be the go-between. I sneak a glance at Sequence to see whether he knew about this, but his suit prevents me from seeing his face. He taps his left foot once before he sits up straight. Well, well, well, looks like he wasn’t expecting that. It’s incredibly unprofessional, but I can’t help but smirk at the situation. It serves him right, the little control freak.

“Why are you here?” Sequence asked.

“I was available. Now, I’d like to skip past the formalities, how-are-yous, and sympathies. The BNA is treating today not just as an act of terror, but a declaration of war from the Olympians. Every leader in America has their eyes on Quinstin; the entire world is watching both of our organizations to see what the response will be. We live in unprecedented times, and what follows will either embolden those who are liked-minded and inspire others, or it will serve as an example and deterrent, preventing this from happening again,” SA Annoiata said.

“While I agree that this meeting is extremely important and time-sensitive. I can’t ignore the significance of a Special Agent being sent. So I must insist upon learning why you specifically are here? The BNA knows who I am and what my ability is, so you had to have known I wouldn’t just ignore the glaring oddity in front of me,” he replied.

“Fine, if you must know, I am a Mentalist like yourself. My ability alerts me to anyone perceiving me, no matter how they’re achieving it. Once I’m aware, I can look back at them. You shouldn’t even need your ability to understand why I specifically was sent,” SA Annoiata replied.

“The contents of this meeting absolutely cannot get out. Whatever you’ve come to say abolutely can’t leave this room,” Titania responded.

“Indeed. Which brings me to this,” SA Annoiata said, tapping the folder on her lap. “Inside of this is a non-disclosure agreement swearing all four of you to complete secrecy for the remainder of your lives. The Union Director, BNA High Command, and the President of the United States have all signed off on this. If you don’t agree to sign, you will have to leave the room before we begin.”

What did she just say? A chill goes down my spine. What on Earth would require this type of cloak-and-dagger shit? Sending an antireconnaissance Special Agent to have us sign a document just to partake in what is supposed to be a joint operation is sending off alarm bells in my head. Whatever is going on, it is shady. She hands me the NDA, a fifteen-page packet. I give it a cursory read through, and this is more than ironclad. It is ridiculous and toes the line of what is even morally acceptable to put in one. It has all of our real names in this. We won’t be sued if we leak this; we’ll be sent to an Omnimax prison for life without parole. This isn’t legal, but I have a feeling that won’t matter to the BNA. Who cares if it’s illegal if they are a million percent sure it’s enforceable? The fact that the Union Director signed off on it is the only thing keeping me from tearing the document into pieces. I had the pleasure of meeting her once, and she is the type of hero you’d want in charge.

“Here ya go,” Titania said, handing back the document with her signature on the front.

“What do you think of it?” Sequence asked me.

His tone is genuine, which means he's not asking Arbiter. Nicholas Porter, the day trader, is asking the prosecutor Cassius Lyons for legal advice. The Heroes’ Union Squad Leaders are privy to our branch members’ real identities. But until today, until right now, Sequence has never acknowledged that he isn’t the smartest person in the room. He recognizes that whatever information is being kept behind the NDA wall has to be worth knowing. He knows we can’t be left in the dark.

“Yes,” I answered, signing and giving it back.

Phoenix and Sequence follow suit, and she puts all four of them into her folder.

“Then we can begin the meeting officially,” SA Annoiata said, and her whole demeanor has transformed. Gone is the informal woman, leaving behind a stone-cold operative. “I am Margret Annoiata, Supervisory Special Agent in Charge. Approximately three hours ago, the United Nations finished deliberating on what the BNA’s response should be. Once a plan had been suggested, a vote was held amongst the 191 sovereign state leaders.”

“A vote?” Titania asked.

“Yes. With 154 votes in favor, the United Nations elected to create a Kill Order for Ares the Olympian. I am here to oversee the Kill Order’s fulfilment. There will be no capture, there will be no trial, there will be no prison sentence; Ares will die for his crime,” SSA Annoiata announced with the same enthusiasm someone has reading an email.

Dear God. Her words echo in my head as I struggle to comprehend what I’m hearing. There are fewer than fifteen countries where the death penalty is still employed. The overwhelming majority of world leaders voted in favor of this. The BNA declaring a Kill Order is crossing a line in the sand that cannot be undone. This response is not an overreaction so much as it’s an escalation. It’s the BNA saying that they get to be judge, jury, and executioner. It’s one thing for everyone to assume that the BNA has had problematic Neuvohumans assassinated; it’s an entirely different can of worms for them to outright admit to it. We’ve been sworn to secrecy so that we can’t blow the whistle on this. Right now, the Kill Order is under wraps. But once it’s done, they can gauge perception on it to see whether this should go public. None of us knows how to respond; it’s Phoenix who breaks the silence.

“What do you expect of our branch? Would you have the Quinstin Heroes’ Union partake in the Kill Order? Do you expect us to assemble a group to hunt him?”

“To stay out of the way, no, and no again; I brought my own. You four have been brought on board out of respect; the BNA is not required by any international laws to alert the local Capes about ongoing operations. I am not trying to strong-arm you into helping; I do not need any help. This meeting is all about introducing myself to you and you to my team so that there aren’t any misunderstandings while we are here,” SSA Annoiata continued.

I am speechless. This is insane.

“Does that mean your team is already here?” Sequence asked.

“No, but they can be here in just a moment,” she answered. She pulls a phone out of the inside of her suit jacket and dials someone. “We’re ready for you. Fourteenth floor, west side of the building. Bring everyone.”

Three minutes after the end of her phone call, the Strike Force appears in the room. Kill Squad would be a more apt name for them. The seven individuals are all interesting, to say the least. A tan-skinned man in a tailored white and black pinstriped suit and a pair of the cheapest-looking sunglasses I’ve ever seen. Next to him is a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman in a white pantsuit with a deep neckline and nothing underneath it. While she is beautiful, exceptionally attractive even, the thing that I notice almost immediately is that she is missing her left arm, the sleeve hanging loosely. Behind them is a tall, well-built man in a plain black shirt, a large orange winter coat, blue jeans, and dirty sneakers. An immaculately trimmed goatee frames his face well, the angles also helped by his sharp haircut. He’s the only one dressed for the weather. To his left is a person wearing a 3D-printed blue demon mask, baggy pants, leather strapping over their arms and chest, padded gloves, and a black half-cloak. Because of their getup, I can’t identify their age, gender, or anything about them.

Next to the masked person is a black woman wearing unbranded urban camouflage fatigues. Twin pistols are attached to the belt on her waist. Her honey brown locs are tied up in a ponytail, leaving her face completely free. Her eyes aren’t human-looking; the glowing purple and black spirals are hypnotizing. Gorgeous. There is a mountain of a woman to her right, a muscular giantess with a wild mane of gray hair, who must be just under seven feet tall. The tight bodysuit can’t hide the thickly corded muscles beneath. She radiates power, and it isn’t until she smiles, revealing chrome-pointed teeth, that I realize she’s sizing us up. That one’s a killer all right. The most unique of the bunch is actually the one who looks the most normal or average. He’s middle of the road in height, weight, looks, everything about him is inoffensive. His black hair and five o'clock shadow only add to his unassuming look. This is quite the ensemble of eclectic individuals. Special Agents are always an odd bunch.

“In order, that’s Special Agents Waters, Winters, Legion, Rumble, Anchor, Deadzone, and McCaffrey,” she said.

“Reporting for murder, ma'am,” Waters said with a sardonic grin.

“Cut the shit, Andrew,” Winters spat at him.

“It is a pleasure to meet the wonderful heroes of Quinstin. I promise that my associates and I will finish our mission as quickly and quietly as possible,” Legion said to us.

“Don’t renege on that promise; it isn’t something you can take back,” Titania replied curtly.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but we should get going. I’d like to begin as soon as possible,” SSA Annoiata announced.

Waters pouts, a look that doesn’t belong on a man his age. She walks over to them, nodding at Deadzone and Anchor before the eight BNA agents disappear. The four of us are left in the room to grapple with the bombshell that was dropped on us. Everything that we just learned can’t leave this room. The only people I can talk to about it are these four. I have a bad feeling about this Kill Order, and I know that it won’t be as easy as they say it will. This city doesn’t need any more dangerous individuals running around causing problems. We still have that serial killer on the loose, and we’re no closer to finding them.

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