Days passed. After returning from the desert, my time was divided between boring, almost bureaucratic stuff and just hanging out, doing my own thing. Frankly, the more I checked things online, the more convinced I became that things weren't as dire for me as the Bouquet would want me to believe. Oh, that wasn't to say there weren't complications, but I could probably return to my normal life if I really wanted to. Just, you know, with a giant, Guardian and Anathema crime syndicate even more pissed at me.

So still pretty close to normal, all things considered.

Aside from Mr. Song—Richard—there were two other top guys in the Violet Bouquet. One of them was a woman named Violet, because of course there was. I hadn't met her yet, but I had now met the final member of the trio—a really, really tall colossus who everyone just called 'Big Hans.' His name was, predictably, Hans. I didn't know his last name.

And yeah, he was pretty big, like seven feet tall or something stupid. He also had massive fucking hands—I was staring at them right now, wondering if he could fit one of them all the way around my head like picking up an orange. Probably not—but maybe. It's hard to tell.

It continued to surprise me that none of them were Guardians. Well, I technically couldn't be so sure about Violet, since I hadn't met her yet—but that was what I was told, and I could at least confirm it for Richard and Hans. I also wondered why there were three of them—seems like the kind of setup that would be ideal for breeding internal factions and hidden power struggles.

I hadn't really encountered any of that myself thus far, but I couldn't discount the possibility of rivalry between the three bosses. I was a rather unique new addition, so it made sense that I hadn't been exposed to anything like that yet. Although—it would also make sense if one of them had tried snatching me up immediately. Hmm…

"Are you even listening to me?"

I blinked, realizing that I'd been losing myself in my own thoughts again—and during the middle of an individual meeting with one of the top bosses, no less. We were supposed to be discussing my professed intention to continue 'infiltrating the Star Guardians.'

"Of course I'm listening," I lied.

"Of course, of course," Hans said, gesturing slowly with his giant fucking dinner plate hand. "So what is your answer? I believe I asked you a question."

Well, shit. This is kind of a bad look, isn't it? I knew what the topic was about in general, of course, as well as the overall nature of the objections that comprised the bulk of the resistance to my personal path forward. It boiled down to a risk assessment. The Bouquet didn't think the value they could squeeze out of a mole in the Star Guardians' operations was worth the mountain of shit discovery would likely bring down upon their heads.

Which was honestly a really good point, and it informed the approach I took on this side of things. I pointed out that, one, the high tier Star Guardians already knew about them—and not just in a general sense. The literal briefcase I had proved the sheer depth and breadth of intelligence that had already been collected.

I was pretty sure they were incredibly alarmed and doing their best to downplay it. As much as I guessed they already knew they were far from invisible, I would also wager that they were very surprised to see just how much was already exposed.

That was point one—the fact that if the Star Guardians were willing to take a sledgehammer approach to wiping out the organization, they would have already done it. Point number two was that I wouldn't be pushing deep into the heart of Star Guardian activity. I would be a minor personality hanging around the fringe, making friends with a mere Tier 1 who needed to work with other, regular Guardians anyway.

The benefit? Well, I already explained that I wasn't stupid enough to dig up information on the higher tier Star Guardians themselves, and that I'd do what I could to minimize interacting with them in the first place. Rather, I would actually be a defensive canary—the hope would be that I could quietly alert my new employers to any major movements that I caught wind of through Katherine.

I was pretty sure the argument would work—but it wouldn't work if I didn't do what I needed to push for it. That led me here, meeting with Hans, zoning out because I'd already thought through every possible way things could go. What was actually interesting would be all the drama that would come later.

But shit, what did he ask me? Something about—oh hell, this is just making it awkward. Just be coy with it and say something to get things moving forward again. Tilting my head inquisitively, I acted like I was pondering why he would ask again about something I already answered. "I mean, you did ask me a question, and I answered. You asked if I was listening. I said yes. Why do you want me to say it again?"

I felt pretty clever for that one.

Leaning forward over the desk and causing the high-backed chair to groan ominously, Hans gripped his own massive knuckles threateningly. I was sure it would seem a lot more intimidating to someone who wasn't strong enough to bench press a full train car at this point. "I don't appreciate it when people play games with me."

Before I could say something in response, he eased his posture—just slightly—and continued. "I know your type. You act recklessly just for the thrill of it, then enjoy feeling clever when you take the right opportunity to fail upwards out of the new mess you put yourself in. You think being dangerous somehow makes you 'cool,' but really you're just a liability for anyone who makes the mistake of tolerating you."

Anger—rage. My face must have gone flat by this point. How dare you? He'd just committed the greatest crime, an unforgivable offense. A rude knife twisted in my chest, making me fight just to keep myself from lashing out or clenching my body so hard that I inadvertently broke some part of the furniture. Heat was building, and not the good kind that I could use as a tool or weapon.

Something glimmered in Hans's eye, something I'd never seen before. "And there it is. The anger. You just can't stomach someone calling you out on your bullshit, can you? Your real bullshit. All that callous insensitivity, gone instantly when someone pokes just the right place. It hurts, doesn't—"

I didn't hear what he said next, if he even got a chance to say anything at all. I had slammed him into the far wall, probably vaulting over the desk or something similar. I felt a bone crunch under my left hand—his wrist. But I was denied any beastial satisfaction when he didn't even wince.

He just looked down at me, still calculating, but less amused. "Understood."

My right claws twitched. I was covered in metal, now—it would have been surprising if my form didn't slip. Slowly, I eased back, not taking my golden eyes off him until I had retreated halfway to the door. The meeting was now over.

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I wasn't stupid. I knew that he'd won this encounter and wasn't frightened off—as much as it burned at me to admit it to myself. By 'Understood,' what he really meant was 'I see that I've pushed things too far and I'll stop now for my own safety.'

The fucking bastard.

I didn't break anything on my way out or even slam the door. I did my best to cool down and present myself in a mature fashion. This wasn't over, and one day, oh one day I would sink blades into hot flesh and—

Not yet. As much as I resented every part of what just happened, there was a minor upside. I was completely confident that we'd reached an agreement about my continued association with a new, Tier 1 Star Guardian.

"No matter what happens in there," Mr. Bones told me as we parked a few blocks away from Uncle Xavier's back in LA, "I'm not going to do anything to save you."

"I appreciate the honesty," I snarked back as I exited the car. I'd dressed up again in one of my ridiculous suits. Building a brand is important, you know? This time, I'd gone with the tamest option—the gray suit with a violet tie—due to the somewhat casual, small-scale nature of the 'event,' if you could really call it that.

I did make sure to bring my hat and cane, though. As I said—branding is important.

I was right when I presumed to have the go-ahead for my plan. Hans didn't put up any additional fuss, and perhaps he even covered me with respect to the other two bosses, since no one else gave me any additional resistance either.

They would have been a lot more concerned if they knew I wasn't just meeting with my 'Tier 1 contact,' but also with a Tier 8 Star Guardian himself—or that the Tier 8 in question was directly responsible for my creation. And in more ways than one, if what he told me about himself and Saber is to be believed.

Honestly, I couldn't really blame Mr. Bones. He might be a Tier 6, but it wasn't like there was a major gap between 6 and 7—no, there was a massive fucking chasm. The fact that he was 'only' a regular Guardian just sealed the deal.

I'd probably be more annoyed if I actually felt endangered, or if he was the one setting things up in the first place. As it were, I was more than happy to be left utterly alone. It was what I wanted, after all.

Uncle Xavier's was exactly as I remembered, down to the fact that the proprietor himself recognized me the moment I entered. After a brief but very warm welcome where I literally said nothing, he ushered me over to the bar area. Dad was sitting alone, nursing a barely-touched mojito. The sight instantly brought back minor memories of 'getting tacos' immediately after the incursion where I first hatched.

I was also as disappointed as I was relieved. She's not here. I can't even taste her.

Unsure how to greet him, I just slid up and launched in. "Heyo, how's it going? The Blue Man Group giving you any trouble? Personally, I would never trust anyone who has a dedicated splash zone."

Pushing his mojito to the side, the man studied me for a long moment. Then, with just the barest motion of his hands, a faint, near imperceptible distortion flickered through the space around us. I might not have noticed, had it not been so violently intense to my Anathema senses. "Christ, what was that?"

"To keep the sound contained. I wouldn't ever agree to hold a meeting in a place like this if that wasn't an option."

I blinked. He can do that? Add that to the list of abilities my dad possessed. Honestly, the only way I ever found out about most of them was by him happening to use them in front of me. I wonder how that works? I was confident none of his abilities were directly related to air or sound. It wasn't really important, though.

I didn't have to spend too much time updating him on the situation. The most important thing, as far as he would be concerned, was that I'd gotten a good lead on the cultists he'd originally wanted me to track down and infiltrate. Now, he and the rest of the Reds had solid evidence that the mysterious other group of intelligent Anathema weren't the result of Dr. Jason's experiments or the Bouquet, but were working together with them.

Unfortunately, I hadn't made much progress tracking any of them down after returning from some random location in the middle of Nevada. My reach in the criminal organization was—well, I wouldn't say limited, it was more that it was currently uncertain. I needed more time to settle in and establish a general baseline.

Which was completely true. I might have spent a large amount of time slacking off playing ARPGs, but that was only because I didn't have anything else to do—well, aside from meeting with annoying crime bosses and having myself quite literally beaten into the ground by Mr. Bones. The Tier 6 monster had gleefully taken it upon himself to become my new sword instructor.

In contrast to the formal, measured approach outlined by Mr. Bjorn Andersen, his first 'lesson' consisted of nothing more than commanding me to summon my sword, followed by the ominous word 'survive.'

"So, I hope I didn't accidentally trigger another 2011 kind of conflict," I said. "...Did I?"

"Not exactly," my dad conceded, "but you did cause a stir."

"Ah."

I didn't end up getting much more than that. What I did get was a tedious and frustrating interrogation about my new role in the Bouquet, my plans, and how I intended to continue living. While he was clearly pleased that I'd made progress on the cultists, I also started to pick up an undercurrent of paranoia. Is he worried that I'll turn on them? Side with the Bouquet and use them to shield myself from his own reach?

Well he was absolutely correct. Of course I was going to do that, just like I was currently betraying everything I'd promised to the Bouquet leadership by having this exact meeting. It was clear that I couldn't stand entirely on my own—not yet—so I'd much rather have multiple options I could play for or against each other depending on the circumstances.

I decided to be blunt about it. "Look, if you're worried about my loyalties, ask yourself why the fuck I would ever side with a random, overgrown gang over literal Tier 7-plus Star Guardians. There is literally no one else in the entire world who I'd be better off with than your whole faction. I'm completely betraying their trust right now just by talking to you."

He nodded. "You're right."

And that was that. I wasn't going to assume I was completely in the clear—better to assume he was still a bit suspicious—but I did take it as evidence that my overall gambit was successful. I doubted he knew I was hiding something.

There was one major thing related to the Bouquet that I'd completely left out, and it involved Dr. 'DeVille.' The first thing I'd done upon returning to LA was actually to have a two hour long meeting with him in his new offices. He'd temporarily relocated due to the disaster at Club Purple.

The topic of discussion was a total makeover for yours truly. While he might have become more famous for esoteric augmentations in recent years, Dr. Jason was still a professionally educated and trained cosmetic surgeon, and a damn good one to boot. His move into esoterics only made him better, as it opened the door for a wealth of techniques and procedures that otherwise weren't possible.

And now that I was a Tier 4 Anathema? My regeneration alone opened almost as many additional possibilities, as did my still-limited ability to partially reshape myself.

The plan? Alexis 'Valkyrie' Huntingfield was pivoting into a bona fide empowered villain—but after the results of some preliminary testing, Dr. Jason was convinced that we could create a dramatically new appearance for my unarmored, completely 'human' form, and most importantly, have it stick.

I liked the way I looked, for the most part, but this wasn't just the potential to try something new. I'd still have my old self—just with claws and a metal jaw—as well as something new. Combined with all the different messes I'd gotten into, as well as my innate ability for total vocal manipulation…

Well, I was certainly going to have a very fun time.

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