"…is that once again it is the Empire who have stood up for the people of Brockton Bay and put an end to this menace. Where were the heroes? Once again, nowhere to be seen. The Empire has always put their bodies on the line for the citizens of America. Victor and Fog sacrificed everything for this country. Those willing to lay down their lives as patriots…" I switch the TV off as Dad enters the room.

"Nasty business." He nods his head at the TV as he gently places his coffee down at the table. "The whole incident has stirred the Empire up worse than I've ever seen them. I thought they were pushy enough to the boys at the docks before, but now the pressure is something else entirely."

"But it will die down eventually, won't it? The Empire is weaker now, and they'll have to be more careful about throwing their weight around." Dad doesn't reply. I move on. "What are they saying about the cape at your work? The blizzard one?"

He shrugs. "There isn't much to say. There's plenty of people with good reason to hate the Empire in the Bay. A guy gets powers and immediately goes out in a blaze of glory against them? I'm surprised it doesn't happen more often." He grimaces. "I heard there was nothing left of him after the Empire caught him, not even enough to identify the body. You can't help but feel sorry for his family. Not knowing."

I say nothing. I don't have an answer to that. Nothing that wouldn't be hypocritical for me to say.

He grimaces. "Well. Let's not linger on such a grim topic. How was sch- ah, how was your day?" He stumbles over his words, his usual routine catching up to him.

"Fine." I reply shortly.

He winces, but can't seem to find anything else to say. There's an awkward silence for a few seconds before he makes a show of dusting himself off. "Anyway. I just came in here to let you know that work called – there's a bit of an emergency that they need me in for. I'll most likely be back late."

I nod. "Alright, then." My voice comes out cracked. "I'll see you later."

I wait by the window to watch him leave, not moving an inch until he's already motoring down the street out of sight. This was ideal. As long as Dad was around, I couldn't afford to fully engage with my power for fear of him walking in on me while I was coated in the red lines that spread across me at higher outputs. That meant keeping my output low, which was fine, in its own way. It wasn't being wasted – I had resummoned Mata Hari and sent her out in my place to scout around. Her relatively small output didn't result in me turning into a small, glowing furnace. It also didn't make me feel like throwing up every few seconds, letting me recover nicely from the exertion of the last few days.

More than anything else, the ex-spy was helpful. The voices in my head were mostly quiet now that I wasn't doing anything of interest. But then, even when they were inclined to talk, despite the vast amounts of knowledge inside their heads, none of those closest to my awareness seemed that inclined to share it with me or volunteer useful information. Mata Hari shared the information freely and easily, from brief discussions about faint memories of past grail wars, a more in-depth explanation of the Servant system and also some valuable information about some common skills. Presence Concealment. Clairvoyance. Protection from Arrows.

And the two most important ones to me. Magic Resistance, and Independent Action. One to allow Servants to potentially resist my Command Seals, and the other to enable them to survive without being supplied mana at all for lengthy periods. Independent Action was how Simo had been able to cut himself off from me and go off on his own yesterday without immediately starting to disappear thanks to a lack of energy. If he had been a more rebellious Servant and ditched the effect of his Noble Phantasm, he might have lasted hours or even days before he started to vanish. Plenty of time for him to work out other methods of scrounging up mana.

He didn't, that was good.

But he could have. And every other Archer I summon could do that too if I wasn't careful. The skill came with the benefit of being able to operate at a much larger range away from me, which was admittedly useful. The range limitation was grating for me to put up with now, I had hopes that it would improve with time as I got stronger – but it put a dampener on my mood for now. With Mata Hari only able to patrol within the admittedly-fairly-large sphere around my house, it meant that there wasn't much in the way of serious gang activity to be stopped – I had some potential places of interest to investigate later, but no actual progress was being made on my mission.

The downsides of being grounded were obvious – drawing the simple question: Could I leave? No. That wasn't the right question. I unquestionably had the ability to run away and survive. Should I leave, now? That was the question.

Leaving home was inevitable, most likely without the approval of my Dad. Was the extra time gained by being more free to work at the gangs worth the sudden interest that being named as a runaway teen would get me? How long before I was outed as a cape? It wasn't like I intended to expose myself as the Master, but with my range somewhat limited and the obvious tells on my body, it was hard enough to keep out of sight. Eventually, people were going to get suspicious about the sudden surge in suicidal capes not leaving a body behind and start looking for a master.

For now, at least, the answer to my question was: Not yet. Dad was away often enough to make my 'grounding' limited to outside of office hours – and with his overtime at work, that trend continued into the evenings and weekend. I could work with that.

I mentally flail for my connection to my active Servant, it's far from the surging torrent of energy that it once was – it's a testament to my progress that I almost don't even notice that it's there most of the time. What was once a crippling rate of mana consumption paled in comparison to what Simo had continuously required, and that gulf in required power would only continue to expand as I delved deeper into the pool of talent at my disposal. Having found the link, I reach out to the Assassin-class Servant that was currently out wandering the city. "Come back here. I'm going out."

"Coming, Master!" Her cheerful, practically eager response comes back immediately.

For now, I want to deal with the Merchants. Lawless drug-dealers and their clients, gravitating around Squealer and Skidmark. A vehicle tinker and… whatever the hell it was that Skidmark did. Nobody online agreed with the specifics of his powerset aside from the obvious. There were rumours online that another cape had joined up at some point, but no concrete facts.

Not that it was just as easy as finding the Capes and walking away in a single day. Officially, the Merchants had the smallest slice of territory out of all of the real gangs – if you could even call it that. They had the scraps that nobody was bothered to fight them for yet. They were found in the parts of the downtown area far from the edges of E88's land, the residential area next to the Trainyard and the occasional sighting in the Docks area. It wasn't territory in the traditional sense. They didn't defend it, and they didn't tend to charge protection money. They didn't care to come out and fight the Protectorate if they started to meddle with them.

That was the Merchant playbook. To walk away and never take a fair fight. With no concrete base of operations and no base of supporters that they were expected to defend, there was almost no way to force the Merchants out of hiding and into a fight that they didn't want. They were like water. When their operations were attacked, the spear of the assault would slide through their territory facing little resistance – and they would move elsewhere until the aggressor abandoned the region, allowing them to flow back in with no losses.

That wasn't to say that they were purely minding their own business and acting defensively. They were a nuisance all over the city, and however poorly trained and equipped – a hypermobile gang of druggies with more money and guns than sense was dangerous enough to allow them the ability to attack and get their own back on slights against them.

For me, they are the perfect target. A minor gang. Only a couple of capes, a few gang members and a lot of supporters in the form of their clientele. There wasn't the threat of revenge to me there like there was with the Empire if and when they found out that I was responsible for their recent losses. If I did have to kill one of the Capes, there were good odds that nobody outside of the gang would particularly care anymore than they would for any normal person showing up dead – if the news even got out in the first place.

"I'm here!" The mental announcement from my Servant shakes me from my thoughts. That was fast, especially as I had asked her not to use her near-superhuman speed out in the city if it wasn't necessary. My irritation at her failure to listen to my simple instructions fizzles to nothing as I spot the ex-spy through the window.

It only takes a moment for me to grab my prepared bag and rush out the door to meet her. "Why-" I start to speak as she rolls down the window to wave at me excitedly. "-do you have a car? Where did you get it from?"

"I asked a nice gentleman if I could borrow it for a while, and he said yes!" She grins at me, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "I thought it would be a fantastic way to get around the city incognito." She pulls down a pair of sunglasses in time with the word 'incognito', as if that was all that was needed to complete her secret disguise.

It was hard to argue the advantages, and it would give me something to hide in if I started glowing again. "You can't just go around mastering people to give you things – that's going to draw attention." Speaking of drawing attention, it looks like she at least had the common sense to change into a more standard city-girl outfit. A slightly too-tight shirt that rode up her midriff and a pair of jeans went a long way towards forming a decent outfit that didn't look horrifically out of place in Brockton Bay.

She looks puzzled for a moment. "Mastering people?" She tilts her head. "That's a superhero thing, right?" She purses her lips and frowns at me. "I assure you that only my natural charms were required for something as simple as this."

"There's nothing natural about someone just letting you borrow his car. You need to limit yourself to what a regular person would do and what would happen to them." I wave a hand in the air as I let myself into the car. "I don't want the PRT getting reports of someone with your description running around tricking people out of their possessions with their powers."

"I don't think that would be a problem. One of the few skills that I do have makes most dangerous people tend to think of me as 'on their team' if they don't think about it too hard, and another that makes me seem effectively harmless as well. Unless he gets tipped off about me, he won't think of this as any more than a drunken, poorly-conceived plan to get into my pants. I'll return the car later if I can, of course, just to be polite." I open my mouth to interject as she continues on. "Besides, to raise the issue in the first place, they would have to admit that this car belongs to them – and that would raise some awkward questions when the police look inside."

She points to a plastic bag next to my feet. I pick it up, then immediately drop it back down as I note the suspicious-looking powder stored neatly into small packets. I make a face. "Drugs? You stole a drug dealers car?"

She blows a rogue strand of hair out of her face. "I didn't steal anything. I told you, he gave it to me." She shakes her head. "You just don't understand what life is like for the richest parts of the criminal world. This car means nothing to him. You can ask him yourself in a bit if you would like."

"Hmph. Let's just-" I double-take as my mind catches up with her words. "Wait. What?"

She tilts her head at me, face marred with the tiniest of frowns. "Well. You were looking for the Merchants, didn't you?" She pats the steering wheel in front of her with a pleased grin. "Look! Found a whole bunch of them! I can take you there right now." She maintains her satisfied expression as if she was expecting praise.

The expression morphs into a pout as I let the silence drag on in wordless disapproval. "Do you even know how to drive this? You didn't say anything about a riding skill when we were talking about it earlier…"

"No personal skills at all to speak of, I'm afraid." She smiles apologetically. "But I'm a fast learner, I haven't been pulled over by the police for a full hour!" The car lurches forward as she sets off to her destination, apparently no longer concerned about seeking my explicit approval for the mission.

"Does that mean that you have been- Watch out!" The Assassin forcefully swerves the car back into its own lane where it had been straddling the dividing line between the two sides of the road, narrowly avoiding a beaten-down transport van by the thinnest of margins. I duck in muted shame as the driver lays into his horn to express his disapproval.

"I don't know what he's complaining about." Mata Hari gazes out of the window carelessly as she rounds the corner of the road. "It's safer for me to be in the centre because I'm further away from the edge of the road. I pulled back over in plenty of time, but everyone seems to have a problem with it."

"That's not how driving works! Stay in your lane!" Cars like this must be entirely new to her. Even if they were around in some rudimentary form in her time, she might never have the chance to drive one. Her reaction time, perception and instincts were far better than could be expected of a regular human – but apparently, the knowledge from being summoned didn't do anything for common sense.

Somehow, we made it to our destination in one piece – and without attracting any further ire from the commuters of the Bay. To my surprise, Mata Hari hadn't taken me to a forgotten car park in a rundown suburb that I would expect drug dealers to operate out of. Instead, she takes me to a brightly lit nightclub positively swarming with partygoers. She brushes past the bouncer, tugging me along with a snooty "She's with me."

I shrink into my hood a little more as we head further in. This wasn't my kind of place. Too many people. Too much bling. Too many drinks. Too many drugs. "Margaret!" I glance up as my Servant is bundled into a cheery hug by a grinning, well-dressed man that I would hesitantly describe as Mexican. "This club hasn't been the same since you left! I missed you!"

The Assassin's lips quirk upwards at the sides. "We only saw each other a few hours ago, Carlos. You can't have missed me that badly."

"Bah! You cannot understand the sense of loss that I feel! A woman so beautiful as you enters my club, it is good for my reputation! Good for my business! Good for my eyes!" I tense as he reaches into his pocket, then relax as he pulls out a heavy golden chain and drapes it around my companion's neck. "Here. To magnify your beauty even more!"

"You really shouldn't have." She makes a show of inspecting her new accessory before letting it fall to rest against her chest. "I'm actually here to show my friend around-" She pats my shoulder warmly. "-she's pretty interested in expanding her horizons. I don't suppose you would mind letting us out the back?"

"Any friend of Margaret's is a friend of mine." He seizes my hand and shakes it firmly. "Your lovely friend has taken you to the right man. I am Carlos, if you need anything – anything – I can get it for you. I know everyone there is to know in this part of town."

I smile nervously. "Uh. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." He seems satisfied with that answer and gestures for us to follow him deeper into the building.

"Oh, Carlos!" The man pauses mid-step at the sound of his name being called. "My friend is quite anxious about getting recognised – super-strict, religious parents, you know how it is. Could you possibly-"

"Not to worry, young miss!" He resumes walking. "We get all sorts looking to hide their faces in here. Not everyone wants their private activities being discovered by their friends and colleagues – just grab a mask from the pile on the left as you walk in." Two bouncers step aside to let us pass, then step back in behind us to resume blocking the door. I grab the first mask I can see from the top of the pile, a richly decorated mask for my upper face that could only be described as 'gaudy' or 'tacky'.

"I'll pay you back later, I just need a hit so bad-" I sidestep around a desperate-looking partygoer and his companion. Another pair of men pass by in the midst of a heated discussion. "-something with a bit more firepower. The japs are fucking loaded with firepower, and what do we get? A piddly little pistol. That's the best the Merchants can do? I could probably melt it down, sell it and buy something better I swear-" Both conversations were loud, even with the blaring music in the background. Yet not a single person so much as batted an eye at the apparent sale of drugs or the blatant admission of being a gang member.

I glance around the club in a new light, the swarm of partygoers – this back room was huge. The number of people out front building was in the hundreds, but this room was even larger – with enough facilities in each corner of the brightly-lit room to be a full-fledged nightclub on its own. "Hey." I prod her through the mental link. "Don't tell me everyone here is-"

"A Merchant? No." She purses her lips. "Or at least, not how you would consider it. There are Merchants around here, of course, but most people are just customers of some description. I found out some interesting tidbits about your power while I've been walking around the city. The most obvious one is that the information I got from being summoned isn't entirely reliable."

I frown. "No? It seemed to work fine for my previous Servants." My first Servant had navigated to the hospital easily enough, even while I was basically insensate. Simo seemed to have a serviceable map of the city and what areas could be vaguely defined as Empire territory. Mata didn't have any strange gaps in her knowledge when using modern technology, she knew what a mobile was – how to take public transport, how to pay for it, how to use a mobile phone and an uncountable number of other tidbits of knowledge that should have posed a challenge in the modern-day lifestyle.

"It's based on your own knowledge." Her smooth, soft mental voice explains. "To the best of your knowledge, the Merchants are a small, disparate band of druggies held together by the leadership of a few capes."

"I'm guessing you're going to tell me that's wrong?" I watch as Mata Hari lightly bats away the hand of an attempted groper, the amused expression she sends him somehow managing to express the feeling of 'You'll have to try harder than that.'.

"Not entirely, but it's probably more accurate to say that the Merchants are a group of drug dealers who accidentally stumbled onto a semblance of real power in the form of their capes, and then the gang you are familiar with grew out of that. The dealers were there first, the capes were a happy accident." She brushes her hair back. "That distinction is only important when you consider what you actually want to do about the Merchants."

"I just want to get them out of the Bay." I tell her, still refraining from speaking out loud. "The capes are the reason the authorities haven't managed to clean them up yet-"

"That's wrong." I fall silent as she interrupts me bluntly. "I just told you. The Merchants predate the capes. The name has changed a few times, but the organisation is so much larger than Skidmark, Squealer and Mush." Mush? That must be the rumoured third cape of theirs. "The capes are like guns. An expression of force. If you take the Merchants guns away, you might not see them fighting in the street anymore – but they'll still be peddling drugs. Still running the prostitution rings. Still recruiting people into their gang by getting them hooked on drugs they can't afford."

She walks up to the bar at the centre of the room, patting one of the seats to tell me to sit. "Can we have… two of these please." She taps a picture on the menu dismissively, depositing a few notes onto the counter and turning to face me. "You'll love this one." She tells me out loud.

"You'll hate it." Her dry voice echoes in my head.

I shake my head. "The capes are the leadership." I insist. "If we take them out, the rest of the organisation will disband and fragment into something the police can handle."

"That might be true for the ABB, or the Empire." She counters. "But you aren't listening to what I'm saying. The organisation underneath is the problem. The network of rich dealers with a wide clientele of desperate customers is what needs to be fixed. A system like that naturally generates capes that will rise to the top. You want to leave Brockton Bay behind at some point, right? Whether it takes a few months or a few years – there'll be a new set of Merchants to deal with if you call it a day after handling the capes you see now."

A glass of something purple and murky is pushed towards me. "They aren't bad people. They're just stuck in unfortunate circumstances and they'll probably be killed if they try and get out of it. I don't want to just start killing people who might cause me trouble later."

"The ones being taken advantage of aren't in the main gang. They're just customers. The ones in the Merchants are the ones taking advantage of people. You're being naïve because you live in a safe neighbourhood and most of the violence at school happens between gangs you don't have anything to do with." She reaches across the counter and snatches my drink away. I make a half-hearted attempt to stop her before realising that I didn't even want it in the first place. "Good people wouldn't have spiked your drink before you had even sat down for a full minute." I snatch my hand back, face pale as she raises the glass to her lips. "How about you go and hide in the toilets, and see what your 'good people' try to do to a spoiled little rich girl wandering into their bar."

I move to stand up, trying not to glance behind me to try and find the culprit. "I-" My mouth is dry. We haven't been saying much out loud. Time to fix that. "I'm going to the ladies. I'll be right back."

It's clearly signposted, and I've gotten a bit better at handling the double vision of watching through both my eyes and my Servant's. It's still disorientating though, so once I manage to lock myself into the stall of the toilets – I lean forward on the seat and close my eyes to watch Mata Hari chug down the rest of my drink in a single go. The connection between us dims significantly as she does so – a drop in the energy I need to send her to keep her around. Food works. Some types of drinks ease the pressure, though not very economically. Apparently, drugs have a noticeable effect as well.

Perhaps my solution lay in taking over all of the gangs and feeding my army of superhero's on a steady diet of cocaine, cheeseburgers and energy drinks. I stifle a snort of amusement at the mental image. Be serious, Taylor.

It doesn't take long for Mata to start acting woozy. 'Acting' was undoubtedly the correct word to use, I couldn't feel or see anything wrong with her through the connection, and she seems amused more than anything else as a balding man with glasses and his friend comes over to 'check on her'. I would guess that it would take something a bit more notable than a basic drug to handle a Servant.

"Hm?" She murmurs softly as the two pick her up, supporting her by each shoulder.

"You look like you've had a bit too much to drink already." One man says. "We'll take you somewhere a little quieter, call you a cab if you like."

I watch through my Servant's half-lidded eyes as the other patrons of the bar pointedly look in the other direction. Over the next minute of walking, they must have passed at least a hundred people – and not one person offers so much as a challenge to the clearly-shifty men.

"Fucking rich brats. What did you do to get crap like this, huh?" They practically drop her after exiting the building out of a side door – some back-alley exit far from the main street. He pulls at the golden necklace roughly, breaking it away without bothering with the latch.

"H-huh?" She asks groggily. "Th-these? Oh. Daddy gave them to me. He says that I'm his little princess."

"Yeah. Of fucking course. Never worked a day in your life, have you?" The man practically spits.

"Easy, Carl. Look at the bigger picture here. She's pretty out of it, but still awake. Look at her. She's got money." The other man leans in. "Hey, listen. Nobody comes here unless they're looking for a bit of an adventure, right?" My viewpoint bobs as she nods, still acting woozy. "Then why don't you try these? I promise – they'll be an experience you'll never forget."

She opens her mouth and dutifully swallows the proffered pills. The other man grins, having finally grabbed the last of the jewellery she had on her. "And don't forget, if you ever want more – just come to the bar and ask around for Carl or Lucas. We'll set you up with as much as-" Mata Hari starts spasming, collapsing backwards onto the floor – limbs flailing out backwards as she screams loudly. "Ah, fucking hell Carl! I knew that was a shitty batch. Now look what you've done!"

"Fuck off. It's not my fault she can't handle it." He shakes his head. "Whatever. I'm heading back inside – maybe Mason will listen to me now when I tell him his stock is crap."

"Hmph." Lucas watches him leave, Mata Hari stays stock still – eyes wide and unfocused as he roams his eyes over her. "Well. It's not like anyone ever comes this way. You're still breathing, right?" He pokes Mata Hari sharply. "Yeah, but completely out of it. Guess you don't mind if I-" He reaches out to pull up her shirt, other hand already working at his belt. A moment later, his arm is at a right-angle – in the wrong direction. The point of a high-heeled shoe drives into his crotch immediately afterwards, and then he is physically thrown into the wall – unconscious on arrival as he slumps down into a pile of discarded trash bags.

I don't bother to admonish Mata Hari. I don't say anything at all.

"I didn't set any of that up, if you were wondering. That's just the calibre of people that you can expect to find in a Merchant-heavy area like this." Her voice drifts into my mind as she brushes herself off, leaving the unconscious, battered man behind as she re-enters the building. "Skidmark and Squealer had nothing to do with their decisions. Everything they did was because they saw an opportunity and took it."

I unlock the stall, making a show of washing my hands before leaving. "Fine." I reply shortly. "I get the point. Are you happy now?"

"Master." I don't know why she was the one who sounded upset. "I'm not trying to win an argument. I'm trying to repay you for summoning me. Other people might have a wish or a desire to fulfil, but I'm grateful just to be here. I'm going to help you deal a blow to this gang that they won't soon forget, but I can't consider my debt paid if all of our efforts culminate in something temporary and ultimately pointless in relation to your goal. I don't have a fix-all solution for you, but I don't want to give you false-hope either."

"I know." I rub my temples with my hands. "Thank you. I just… didn't want to be wrong about this." Because now I was faced with an entirely different problem. Handling an entire gang of people rather than one or two capes and getting out of dodge. Arrest them? I didn't have the level of power or the numbers that would allow something so neat and easy to happen. Kill them all? More reasonable from a technical standpoint, but morally it was probably the worst outcome possible. Ignore them entirely? That left me back at square one.

But Mata Hari was right. I needed to leave the Bay behind at some point. Even if more capes didn't surface among the system I left behind, another gang from another city or a few small-time criminals could sweep in and take over the operation where the others had left off. And I can't fail. Everyone dies if I fail. Binary outcomes. Pass. Fail. Everyone lives. Everyone dies.

"Can- Can you get us into a real Merchant gathering? Not just their supporters, but the real gang members?" I prod Mata Hari, spotting her across the room as we meet up once again.

"Of course." She almost sounds offended. "Follow me, I know a guy you should meet." She says out loud.

"Sure." I follow, still keeping my head low despite my mask keeping me at least semi-hidden from onlookers.

She meanders towards the back of the room, into a casino-style area littered with ways for the common man to waste his money away. "Sean! Are you here?" She calls out, clearly slurring her words slightly as if drunk.

"You called?" A ginger man, only slightly taller than me, pushes away from a table and approaches us.

"I was told that this was supposed to be a real party, but all of this stuff is cheap junk." She flashes some wrapped up pills and powder tucked into her side pocket, dropping some on the floor to highlight how little she cared for it. "I was told that you might have somewhere in mind where a pretty girl might actually be able to enjoy a party?"

"Suppose we might do." She hands him a crisp set of bills out of her pocket, which he swiftly pockets without either of them breaking their stride. "Merchants have a serious party two, three times a week. Some premium product there, good music, more attractions than you can get through in a night and all the good dealers are there that can hook you up with the real good stuff. They're a bit more selective about who gets in to try and keep the quality up, but looking at you – you'll be fine." He makes a blatant show of checking her out, then glances at me. "Your friend might not though." Ass. You didn't have to spell it out. "Anyway, it'll cost you to get in, but take it from me – it's worth it."

She places a hand on her hip. "Cost isn't an issue. I just need to know when and where to show up."

I turn my gaze inwards. A gathering of some of the most influential members of the gang. I needed a hero who was both possible for me to summon right now, and also willing to get their hands dirty. I could almost physically feel a large chunk of the lawful, heroic side of the Throne shying away as my intentions become known. That was the trouble, I needed someone who wanted to come – even without the promise of a wish. None of them shared my concern about the world ending – because from their perspective, it was my world or another. They existed outside of Earth-Bet and knew that saving my timeline would likely destroy another.

"I wouldn't mind lending a hand." I pause as the voice echoes through the door in my head. I usually didn't hear their voices when I had an active Servant out. I follow the voice back, and consider its owner. "Brings back memories of the good times."

I shut out the connection.

"Well, the next one is actually tomorrow – the closest meeting point is behind the pawn-shop opposite the entrance to this building starting at six. If they like the look of you, they'll drive you to the real location." He explains. "Got to have some semblance of secrecy, you know?"

"Is there one on Tuesday?" I blurt out. Mata Hari gives me a quizzical look.

He glances at me. "Valentine's day? Yeah, actually. Don't know where the meeting point is yet, but I'll get told soon enough." He shakes his head. "But I wouldn't get your hopes up that high, missy. You need the people selecting to take a liking to you in order to get in. If you were a bit more gifted like your friend, you would be fine – and there's a fair few that wouldn't mind if you were a bit younger." Bile creeps up my throat at the implication, but I force it down. "Well, you might get lucky. Just don't get too hopeful."

"Thanks." I whisper. "We'll go to that one."

"I guess I'll come back and find you in a day or two to find out the details." The Assassin waves at the man as we turn away. We walk in silence for a moment, making for the exit without exchanging a word. "You have a plan?"

"I do." I shake my head. "I'm going to need to save up my strength for the next few days. I can keep you summoned without exhausting myself, so I'll keep you around through the night if I can. No experimenting with any other Servants until we get to that party."

She tilts her head at me. "Alright. I'll leave it to you."

Dad wasn't home when I got back. Not unusual, these days. I head over to the computer, leaving Mata Hari to patrol the streets and do whatever she did when I wasn't actively monitoring her.

I had always considered myself as someone who knew my city pretty well. But apparently 'pretty well' wasn't good enough. The Merchants were bigger than I had anticipated and possibly more serious of a threat than my school experience had led me to believe. I load up PHO, navigating to the Brockton Bay section of the boards and slowly typing 'Merchants' into the search box.

And then, I settle in to read.

AN: Long time no see! Quiet little chapter to set up the next one. The next part of this is 90% ready, but I'm going to leave this up here for a bit before posting this and that on all the other sites in case I need to edit or change anything from feedback.