76 Consequences 3

A mountain is composed of tiny grains of Earth. The ocean is made up of tiny drops of water. Even so, life is but an endless series of little details, actions, speeches, and thoughts. And the consequences, whether good or bad, of even the least of them are far-reaching.

- Swami Sivananda

********

"Out of all the heroes in this world, you are the one I like the best. You are like me."

Batman returned to his man cave, his mind fluttering through a dozen subjects. Tonight's fight with Killer Croc, Joker's recent disappearance, the changes in Gotham after Heartbreak, or probable candidates for Tohu's plans when it had appeared.

He ignored his bruises as he stowed his gear, input the information he had gathered on Gotham and its infamous residents, and asked Alfred to get him a cup of coffee.

"And how long will you be up today, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he prepared the requested drink and a full breakfast.

The billionaire watched his butler, oldest friend, confidant, and father figure work as he went through martial arts forms to stretch his muscles after a long, gruelling night of patrolling the streets.

Alfred looked good.

Better than Bruce had seen in years.

He wasn't younger, per se, but he moved with the fluid grace he had in Bruce's youth rather than the slow, deliberate motions of recent times. The old man had kept himself in shape and healthy as he aged, but there were little things that inevitably crop up as one aged. Joint pains, muscles not responding properly, cellular deterioration, or the simple loss of energy one has in their youth.

All gone now, thanks to the Elden Lord.

It was a bright day. Blue skies with white, fluffy clouds. An ideal day in Gotham, one of the safest cities in the world. A perfect day for a wedding.

"A few hours," Bruce answered as he twisted his body slowly. Proper form was more important than speed; the slower he moved, the more his body stretched. "League business."

"And Miss Kyle?" Alfred asked, a note of chastisement in his voice.

"Let her sleep in," Bruce answered. "Our date tonight is still on if she asks."

"Very well, Master Bruce," Alfred nodded at him with pleasure. "I am most pleased you are taking this time with her. The Batman might be needed, but losing sight of what he works towards would be worse than losing him."

Batman grunted. Alfred must be in an excellent mood if he was nagging him. He knew what he fought for.

His parents watched from the front row, smiles of pride and love on their faces. Clark, Dick, and Jason stood by him at the altar. Colleagues, heroes and not, watched the proceedings silently, knowing the world was safe. That they weren't needed. Batman didn't see any of that. All Bruce saw were two blue eyes as he whispered two words.

I do.

Accepting the coffee and the meal, Batman got back to work.

While he had been out, Stark had reached out. Launch for the last pieces of the base had passed without issue. All that was left was to assemble it, through the liberal use of drones, and furnish it.

Batman also checked on the status of active league members. Most US-based ones were at their places of residence, it being very early in the morning in North America. There were a slew of reports that he went through with a fine tooth comb.

A new villain in Bergen, Norway. Designation: Discombobulator. Main power: a low-grade psychic/Master focused on disorientation rather than control. Power source: Mutant. J'ohn had dealt with her handily.

Heroine in Abidjan, Ivory Coast. Designation: Succour. Master with a focus on emotions. Calming them and instilling a feeling of 'peace and acceptance.' Power source: Trigger. Currently providing aid in the wake of Khonsu's attack on La Pyramide.

Hero in Sana, Yemen. Designation: Alhazr. Main power: Master area control by creating overwhelming fear and trepidation as one neared the center. Power source: Trigger.

Rogue in Ocho Rio, Jamaica.

Villain in Seattle, US.

Villain.

Villain.

Hero. Villain. Rogue. Rogue. Rogue. Hero. Villain. Villain.

Batman frowned as he looked over the data and reports. Some came from league members, others from governmental entities, some were compared from Dragon's logs, and a surprising amount came from various internet sources that were quintuple-checked against each other for consistency.

It all depicted the Earth's current stability and critical issues.

It was a picture Batman wasn't happy to see, though that was hardly new.

In the wake of any disaster, especially Endbringer attacks, the number of new Supers rose. Whether from stress triggering the x-gene in mutants, opportunists getting their hands on tech or DNA they shouldn't have, or simple Triggers, surges in the Super population were expected and predicted in Batman's calculation.

The number of powered individuals continuously increased, and disasters saw that number spike in proportion to various factors. News coverage, number of the dead, cultural significance of the targeted area, and the heroes who died in the incident. All had been fed into his model, and Batman had been able to reliably predict the growth of the super population for the last few years.

But his prediction was off. Not by a little, either. It was a margin of error large enough to be worrying.

The Elden Lord and his Family had thrown a spanner into every predictive model. That was an unavoidable fact. Was this rise in Supers another effect of his presence?

That would explain the higher-than-normal proportion of Supers with Master and psychic-based powers.

The Supers that had emerged from Beijing's populous tended to have geokinetic or movement-based powers. In most cases, powers appeared to 'deal' with the person's situation.

It was probable that Heartbreak was the source of this outlying rise in Supers.

There was no fear. There was only Love and Family.

But could that account for all of them?

Before the Elden Lord's arrival, Batman's initial model predicted that the Super population would outnumber non-Supers by 2050. Even if he were to account for all the new Endbringers and the potential disasters they could bring, his most generous prediction placed that event horizon at 2045.

Now?

Supers would be the majority within the decade.

That was even accounting for the fact that the surge in powers would fall as a new status quo fell. As a rule of thumb, only one in three people with powers used it in day-to-day life. This was either because their power was so minor or useless that there was no reason to use it.

That, or they didn't want to risk their lives as heroes, villains or independents.

When given power, the vast majority of people did not use it to change the world. They would make their daily life more comfortable or convenient.

And Batman's model accounted for that.

So, where was the disconnect? Obviously, it had something to do with the Elden Lord, as he was the new variable, but Mikael did not give people powers. Everything Bruce knew about the man indicated he would prefer to horde power rather than grant it. Was he accidentally spreading it? Did his healing of the world cause a higher chance of developing abilities in the recipients?

As Batman went over the data repeatedly, trying to find the missing link, he received a report from Weather Witch. One of the few Justice League members based in China, she was alerting him to a possible tool for the League.

Batman gave it a brief overview.

A healing agent, it seemed.

One was released worldwide by Essex Corp in the wake of Heartbreak as a universal panacea. The Elden Lord had healed everyone, spoiling them from making the maximum profit they probably anticipated. Still, millions were injured afterward in the fighting and the following disasters.

A perfect time to make money with medicine, the long-ignored business part of Bruce's brain acknowledged.

Batman knew of the company that specialized in genetics and DNA research. It then sold said research to the highest bidders to fund more research in a profit-generating cycle.

They had been among the first to discover the X-gene and distinguish between Mutants and the Triggered. Very rarely did they release a product to the public. For them to have something like this ready for shipment immediately meant it had been prepared for a while, and they were waiting for the best time to release it.

The next Endbringer attack, probably.

According to the information Weather Witch sent and Batman's research to verify, it was a liquid medicine administered by injection vials, not too dissimilar to injecting insulin to diabetic patients. Purchasable for home use or used with an IV.

It accelerated body healing, especially in recent injuries. It did less for long-held wounds, but nobody had those any more thanks to the Elden Lord. Nicknamed 'Sanguine' due to its red colour, it had passed FDA approval last month.

Before introducing it as a supply to League members, Batman would do his own tests to ensure no side effects. If this healing agent did as advertised without drawbacks, it would help the world immensely.

Supplies were limited, and most of the product was sent to the devastated parts of the world, but a part of Bruce admired the fact that it was priced so cheaply. Essex Corp. was doing a good thing by keeping the price affordable for those afflicted by tragedy.

It wasn't only out of the kindness of their hearts, of course, as word of mouth would spread. As production ramped up and more supply became available, they could leverage users' accounts to ensure it would pass regulations in stricter countries more easily.

For a moment, just a moment, Batman thought about diving more deeply into this 'Sanguine' despite how busy he was.

But no, he shook the thought off. It wasn't important.

What was important was finding the source of the rise in Supers and keeping tabs on the Elden Lord's next move.

Could someone be selling powers? It wouldn't be the first time. But the numbers here, in such a short amount of time, made that unlikely. Or was it a byproduct of the tragedy Batman couldn't have predicted but was simply a coincidence?

In the absolute privacy of his Bat Cave, Bruce Wayne snorted the tiniest of chuckles to himself.

Batman didn't believe in coincidences.

But for now, Batman was at a dead end with the data he had on that subject and would investigate it more later.

So what was the Elden Lord and his Family up to now?

Maybe Bruce was like the Elden Lord in some small way, but that didn't mean he would let Mikael and his Family operate without what little oversight he could have. Every move of theirs had ramifications, so keeping tabs was just common sense.

That was easier than ever since the Heartbreak. The Family had been working with heroes instead of acting independently in recovery efforts. That, more than any interview Mikael gave, told of their dedication towards Earth and it's inhabitants.

So Batman went through his checklist.

Glynda Goodwitch was in Nepal repairing the damage Khonsu did in one of its teleports. She used her extremely fine control of telekinesis to help repair damaged cities, usually with a well known hero accompanying her so the populace did not panic. But some things could not be fixed, even with the dragon's almost omniscient control of her surroundings. Anything vaporized to dust, burned, or transformed into an unrecognizable state was beyond her.

That was where Tsunade Senju came in.

Of the Family, the chlorokinetic had been the greatest boon to the world excepting the Elden Lord himself.

Not only was she a premier healer, only beat by Panacea, but she could clone herself to be in multiple places at once. This allowed her to work in numerous disaster areas without giving off the impression of playing favourites, as the US was often accused of doing. A valid concern in this time of international tension. She could help with food, housing, and healing. The Female Titan, as some internet dwellers had started calling her for some reason, was practically tailor made for disaster relief.

The current report indicated she was focusing on healing farming land damaged by Endbringer attacks after providing housing and food for refugees.

While Earth had been surviving and repelling Endbringers, they had lost ground. Literally. Captain Atom could absorb radiation from areas affected by Behemoth's nuclear fallout, but the land would still be barren. Saltwater from Leviathan's attacks would be even more ruinous to farmland.

There was no obvious testament to the Endbringer's lack of desire to see humanity wiped out than the fact that they focused on population centers rather than food production areas. If every one of their attacks went to various bread baskets of the world, humanity would have already torn themselves apart over the scraps.

A few Super fertilizers or chemical compounds from Reed Richards or another Super genius' had helped reclaim some lost territory. Still, exotic materials in their creation meant they could not be brought to the large scale.

It was nothing compared to the effect of having Tsunade sit cross legged in the middle of barren fields for a few hours and watching miles and miles of plant life spring up around her.

It was a haunting reminder to Batman about what Poison Ivy could have been had she taken a better path.

After checking up on the two most useful Family members in the relief efforts, Batman checked on the others. Medea continued to use magic to hollow out the 'mountain' Bohu had made, and Glynda deposited away from Beijing.

It would be a few weeks, even with a witch of her level, before the project was finished, but when it was, it would act as a livable city for the millions of refugees in the area. Beijing was uninhabitable now, too twisted and unstable for civilians to remain safe. Not even Glynda Goodwitch could put it back as it was, thanks to the large area and complexity of the task.

There had been some push back against Medea's construction, as her workforce were essentially skeletons, and human bones had a negative connotation in Chinese culture. In the end, it was the fact they were draconian and not human remains, as well as the desperation of the people, that had pushed the dissatisfied populous to accept living in a 'cursed' city.

Those three were the dragons active in rebuilding, but other members of the Family were engaged in their own specialized fields.

Namely, violence.

Both versions of Wonder Woman were in the Balkans, chasing down a terrorist cell that had almost succeeded in setting off a nuclear explosion in the middle of a city. Their budding friendship had cooled somewhat, Bruce knew, after his friend found out her father was Zeus. She had been told she had been crafted from clay for most of her life.

That her father was partially responsible for the death and destruction of Themiscyra and that her dimensional counterpart's husband killed said father and took in her mother and surviving 'sisters' sent her on a bit of a loop. Her sister, Donna, had decided to join the PRT and the Teen Titans rather than join the rest of the Amazons on the Island, so Diana wasn't completely cut off from her family.

Needless to say, the relationship between both women had become a bit more complicated. As far as Batman could tell, they were still friends, but the two versions of the same woman had come to acknowledge the differences in their experiences and priorities after Heartbreak.

Turning from the Wonder Women, Batman took note of the locations and actions of the other consorts he could track.

Priscilla was streaming again. Some fighting game Batman wasn't familiar with, but he had never kept track of that sort of thing. No matter how scantily clad the women depicted seemed to be.

Artoria Pendragon was still operating as a neutral third party overseeing the negotiations between the two Mongolian factions in their civil war.

Batman was genuinely impressed by the female version of King Arthur. She had been charismatic when they met, but seeing her work in diplomacy was always a marvel. Maybe this was what some historical accounts meant when people talked about a 'born ruler.'

On the complete opposite side of the spectrum was Scathach. Of the consorts that were geopolitically active, she was the hardest to track. Any of them could disappear at the drop of a hat, but the Celt was wildly chaotic. She did good work, though.

In the last week alone, she had taken down almost a hundred Supers that had started making trouble worldwide. It was like she heard about some situation somewhere, ran to wherever that was, and hunted down the offender.

Then Scathach would openly challenge them to a fight.

While Batman wasn't thrilled with how lethal those fights could get, he recognized he had no jurisdiction over the spearwoman. Scathach didn't officially have jurisdiction either, but very few people were brave enough to point that out to her face. On top of that, most governments or powers in the areas she visited tended to appreciate a Super dealing with their headaches without needing payment.

In the end, it was the fact that Scathach always offered and honoured her opponents a chance to surrender that stopped Batman from taking any action. After only a week, most villains who saw her coming surrendered without a fight.

To Scathach's vocal displeasure.

Apparently, she didn't approve of those who started trouble without being willing to put their lives on the line.

Batman disagreed with her on the subject, but he could appreciate the reputation she had built and how she used it to keep global peace.

Right now, the Celt was dragging four teenage boys to British authorities with a frown on her face. Batman didn't smile as he reviewed the footage a civilian with a phone had taken, but it was close.

Apparently, all four boys had been a cluster trigger, their powers being the ability to merge together and get exponentially stonger, faster, and more durable with each of them connected. A power that could be very useful in the right circumstances.

What did they do with it?

Go on a rampage around Edinburough. They did this just to attract the attention of Scathach. Once she arrived, they unmerged, got down on one knee together, and asked her to marry all four of them.

Needless to say, the Celt had been unimpressed. Scathach hadn't killed them, but even Batman thought they might have preferred it if she did. None of them would be walking for months and might never be able to have children again.

Leaving that amusing situation to sort itself out, Batman tried to find any hint about the location of the rest of the Family with no success.

Melina, Nico Robin, Ranni, Yoruichi, or Raven could be at home on the Island or anywhere else in the world, which was always unsatisfying for the Dark Knight. Seven out of twelve was actually a good number for the Family, as they came and went where they pleased, but the Caped Crusader was a completionist.

Batman wasn't following the consorts out of some paranoia driven stalking. It was to try and find Mikael.

It was an unequivocal fact that if you wanted to keep track of the Elden Lord and any plans he had, you needed to know where his wives were.

Mikael never did anything alone.

If Batman wanted to predict his next step after Heartbreak, he needed to try and identify which of his wives he was spending time with and for what reason.

It was a good theory, one that worked in most cases, except for the fact that one of the consorts could be with him at all times.

A ping on Batman's searching algorithm had him pull up the camera feed from a street light in Manhattan. Rewinding, Batman saw the Elden Lord emerge from shadows in an alley. By now, it was around nine in the morning as Batman worked through the morning, and the streets were busy.

Not that Mikael cared.

Openly, he walked into the Baxter Building as if he was just another tourist.

Why would he be going there? Did he have some business with the Richards family?

The Fantastic Four had been retired for years, so why was he going there today? Bruce did remember Mikael speaking to and shaking hands with Reed right before the sirens went off. Could they have set up a meeting?

Something to ask the reclusive inventor later.

With the knowledge that he now had a lead on whatever new absurdity Mikael would come up with, Batman started to wrap up his work. He made notes on various cases he was working on, chronicled patrols and patterns, and cleaned up and organized his files before bed.

Even he needed a few hours of sleep to operate at maximum efficiency, and he did have a date later.

Bruce had almost finished his housekeeping when he received a message.

One he had been waiting months for.

Captain Marvel had been in space, chasing down leads on the Elden Lord's past and acting as a scout for potential spaceborne threats.

Her message was short and shocking.

Batman mentally apologized to Selina as he read the first five words the heroine sent.

'The Phoenix is coming back.'

It looked like he would miss their date after all.

********

I whistled to myself as I emerged from the shadows of a dumpster in Manhattan.

My teleportation was superior, but I needed to precisely know my destination. Raven's was better for the first time I teleported to new places.

New places like one of the most famous buildings in this world that I entered along with a crowd of tourists.

The Baxter Building was as much a home for one of the first Super teams as it was a monument to the advent of the modern Super era, the pamphlet I picked up told me.

It was 35 stories tall and maintained a sense of classical design amongst the sky scrapers of steel and glass that dominated much of the surrounding area. The top ten stories were all occupied as headquarters and housing for the Fantastic Four, even if they were in retirement.

The FF owned the entire building, as one of the first things they had done upon retiring was to purchase from the landlord. Still, they only expanded their living space to the top ten floors and left the rest of the building to act as a museum/gallery/convention center.

I, of course, did the whole tourist thing.

I stood in line for the exhibits of the Fantastic Four's early days, the fateful trip to the space station, and their emergence as a team. I walked through the halls, reading little murals and leaflets beside the trophies of their battles with villains. I doubted they would allow authentic Skrul weaponry to the public, but it was still an excellent replica.

I ate at the overpriced cafe. A Clobberin' Club sandwich and an Invisible Chai latte. I didn't know what made it invisible, but it was a good chai. I finished it off with a Human Torchcicle. Orange flavoured.

Some people might have recognized me. The only 'disguise' I had was a minor illusion over my eyes since they were my most distinctive feature. Without them, people's own brains would do the rest. The idea that I would be there was a tad absurd, after all.

The Elden Lord, miracle worker, husband to twelve (that they knew) wives, Heartbreaker, Super of Supers, and generally busy guy wouldn't waste time taking selfies with a statue of Galactus.

Which I definitely did.

I even had someone else take the photo while I pretended to bite the apple-sized planet Earth in the statue's hand. Her bafflement was visible as she struggled to decide whether I was the Elden Lord or someone who looked like him.

It was an enjoyable time. Just loosing myself in the early morning crowd. A true introvert can be alone, even surrounded by hundreds of people.

Raven was here with me, but we were both introverts, so the point still counted. Especially since we spent hours together without sharing a word. She hadn't wanted to deal with the crowd.

I appreciated her giving me this time.

The entire Family knew about my plans tonight with Tsunade, so a few hours to ground myself in the 'real world' away from the Family was needed.

I was surprised this museum was so busy, to be honest. It had only been a little over a week since Heartbreak. This was the first day the 'museum' was open after the Endbringer attack, but it was still packed more than I expected.

Maybe the people of this world were just so used to disaster that they bounced back relatively quickly? Even if this disaster was more extensive than most.

While browsing the gift shop and contemplating if Torrent or Medea would like a stuffed Thing, I finally saw a 'polite' way of getting to the entire reason I was here.

Before proceeding, I got Torrent a Mr. Fantastic blanket that stretched and Medea some 'Mole Man Macaroons.'

With my purchases magically stored because luggage is for chumps, I casually stalked a bunch of school children.

... I admit nothing, Mr. FBI agent.

"...after lunch, we will watch a show on the ninth floor," Susan Storm led a gaggle of, I want to say nine year olds? I am terrible at guessing children's ages. Their actual teachers followed behind the star struck kids, making sure nobody was getting lost in the crowd. "Its made with the footage we captured while working with Shi'ar. There are no space battles," the kids 'aww'ed in disappointment, "but you will see other planets and aliens. Real ones, not like a movie."

Like little ducklings following a mother duck, the tour group left the main lobby and entered the first part of the exhibit.

I, as the apex predator I was, followed without being noticed.

... I swear, Mr. FBI agent, I am entirely innocent.

I followed them for about five minutes, keeping my distance to not ruin their little class tour.

I was all for ruining people's day, even children's, but there is a special place in the Kiln of the First Flame reserved for people who ruin school field trips.

My chance came when the fantastic Invisible Woman stepped back and let the teachers coral their students to take turns exploring the interior of the fake spacecraft, modelled after the first one the FF used.

See, Mr. FBI agent, I am not after children. I am after the MILFs that usually have children.

... Maybe spending too long alone and not speaking aloud was bad for the stability of my mental thoughts?

Nah.

"We haven't been introduced," I said, stepping forward and offering my hand to the woman. "Mikael. I met your husband and daughter a week ago, and they asked me to stop by."

If the heroine was surprised to see me, she didn't show it.

"Susan," she said with a smile as she shook my hand. "They told me you might drop in. We were expecting you upstairs, not down here."

"I don't follow many rules, but teleporting into people's homes is kind of rude," I sighed internally as I dropped her hand.

Susan Storm was a beautiful woman. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a body to die for. If someone pointed her out in a crowd and tried to convince me she had given birth to two children, I would refuse to believe them.

Partly because she was super hot and partly because it wasn't true.

This was not Susan Storm, but another robot like the fake Reed Richards from the party.

They weren't alive, unlike a true AI, but simply fake bodies doing things they were programed to. It was a super complicated program I would only understand with years of study, even with my Talents.

I was smart, but I wasn't super genius territory. As a Dragon of Life, all I knew was that these things did not count as 'life.'

I didn't act on this knowledge yet. Today's meeting was only the last of the loose ends, and the most suspicious one, that I needed to deal with to gather more information on this nebulous 'Enemy/Oppressor' that had the gods and Parliaments up in arms.

"I am busy here," the fake heroine gestured to the children and teachers. A few gave us odd looks as the robot slipped a metal card into my hand. "But slide this card into the elevator, and you can go right up."

"Thanks," I said simply.

No point in being extra polite to a glorified toaster.

I have a deep and abiding respect and fondness for cyborgs, gynoids, AI, or any technological based life form that could think for itself. But something that couldn't, that had no capacity to create and grow, was little more than a walking computer. If they became alive through emergent properties or overcoming their programming, all the better.

But until then, I wasn't going to get turned on by the robot equivalent of a blow-up doll.

I waved goodbye at the excited children, some pointing at me and shouting, as I contemplated mankind's quest for robussy.

It was a quest I wholeheartedly supported, as robot waifus were still waifus, I just regretted that too many people forgot that a 'waifu' needed to be able to think for itself and make decisions for it to matter.

Otherwise, you might as well try and romance a cardboard cutout. This was the same for all waifus or husbandos, if you swung that way.

If there wasn't a chase, a chance of failure or conflict, then any romance would be boring.

Ah well. I wasn't shopping around for more wives. Otherwise, I would consider proving those tabloids right about Dragon and me.

That did leave me with a question.

Would 'freeing' the Canadian AI lead to all her limiters coming off or just the ones I intended? Would I be responsible for unleashing maple syrup flavored Ultron on the world? Is snowy Skynet a good thing?

When I stepped into the elevator designed for the Fantastic Four's use, I decided I could live with giving the world it's AI ordered free healthcare.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I felt the air in the elevator change as the oxygen was drained out of it.

I raised an eyebrow as new air flowed in, and I started to ascend.

That was... extreme.

The headquarters of the Fantastic Four was a fortress, I knew. All entrances could act as airlocks, every window's glass was thick enough to bounce missiles off, and dozens of different force fields surrounded the building. I wouldn't be surprised if Strange or other sorcerers had set up magical defences, either.

One of the reasons I had not simply flown through the walls, ignoring all defences, was because I wasn't confident the entire building wouldn't teleport itself into a pocket dimension or something equally absurd. Since I wasn't trying to attack the place but visiting to talk, setting off a mini armageddon didn't seem like a good idea.

In the early years after the Fantastic Four retired, some of their old enemies had tried their hand at attacking, under the assumption the heroes had gotten weak. Only a few had made it past the third floor, let alone all the way up to the living quarters or Reed's lab.

And then Doom had decided to make examples out of those who tried to invade his rival's home.

I don't know what deal the Fantastic Four had made with their old nemesis or if it had simply been his ego that compelled the king of Latveria to do what he did. Still, after the first year and the public execution of Mole Man, nobody tried to attack the Baxter Building again.

Of course, the Fantastic Four decried the act, and there was no overt connection to link the Mole Man's 'invasion' of Latveria and the largest attack on the Baxter Building. Still, anyone with a brain knew Doom was making an example.

If Victor Von Doom did not defeat the Fantastic Four, nobody else could.

I emerged from the elevator to see the scariest sight known to man.

A little girl smiling.

"You're here," Valeria Richards cheered with a broad smile. She pressed a button on the remote she held in her hand, and the armoury of weapons pointing at the elevator receded back into the walls. "I was worried you were never going to come."

I recognized guns, lasers, and some sort of plasma weapon. I had no idea about the other ninety percent of the things pointed at me in the few seconds before they dissapered.

"How do you know I am me," I asked casually as I looked around the room. It was a vast and bare hallway with smooth metal walls. There was no hint that this place had more weapons than the US military. As a collector of weapons myself, I approved. "There are shapshifters and other Strangers around. I could be someone pretending to be this handsome. If I were someone else, I would want to be me."

"You're the Elden Lord," Valeria said with absolute certainty, her blonde hair bobbing as she nodded. She turned, walking down the hallway, which was way to long to actually be confined to the actual space of the building. "Your Family are the only life forms known to show up on camera and yet give off no other observable effect. No radiation, gravitational pull, energy readings, or psychic imprint. My scanners would still pick up an illusion or other fake image."

Looking for an absence rather than a presence of something? Man, the Defences were helpful, but they were not absolute. At least not in front of intelligent people who knew workarounds. It wouldn't do anything if I turned invisible, but it was another hole to be aware of.

But getting flexed on by a pre-teen wasn't why I was here.

"If you knew I was here, why did I have to find your mom-bot to get invited up?" I asked as I followed the super genius.

"You looked like you were having fun," the little girl shrugged with a giggle.

"Fair enough," I shrugged. "So... Saving the world? Not my usual cup of tea, even if I dabble here and there."

"Right," Valeria said, her smile shrinking slightly. It didn't disappear completely, but it was smaller. We finally reached the stairs and started to climb. "I don't know where to start. I don't get a lot of company I can actually talk to."

"Why don't you start with the robot family you have going on?" I asked.

We were now on a floor with very narrow, tight hallways. They turned sharply at angles, twisted in loops that somehow reversed on themselves, and, at one point, became an entire Mobius strip.

Valeria continued to lead me easily through this maze.

"It's so nobody catches on that I am the only one that's real," Valeria waived off my question as obvious. "A little girl needs her parents. There'd be investigations and curious people if Uncle Johnny stopped clubbing, Mom doesn't do some charity work or take Franklin out, or Uncle Doom isn't ruling his country. Dad and Uncle Ben are the easiest. They didn't ever like being in public. Nobody notices if they only show up once or twice a year."

I filed away the fact that the Doom running Latveria was a robot a twelve-year-old controlled for future jokes. Did this mean that Valeria was responsible for Doom's actions for years?

I ignored the moral and philosophical implications of that and asked the first question I had upon touching the fake Reed's hand at the Gala.

"Are they dead?"

The little girl leading me skipped a step.

I don't mean she stumbled, but that she actually started skipping.

"Yes!" She cheered happily as if reporting a great triumph. "And no!"

"Thanks," I said sarcastically. "That clears so much up. I understand everything now."

"I'll show you in a bit," the most intelligent girl in the world told me as we emerged from the psychedelic maze onto a ledge overlooking a... pit?

I was an eldritch abomination from beyond time and space, and even I thought this was a bit much.

Valeria walked off the edge, falling into the dark pit.

With a shrug, I did the same.

We fell for twelve seconds, air passing by us as we gained speed. I saw ridges along the pit's walls, possibly emplacements for more weapons.

Then we were standing in a living room.

It wasn't teleportation, or I would have been able to resist it. One part of space ended, and another began. It was a mini wormhole.

Fucking comic bullshit, man.

"Val!" A young voice greeted us. "You're back already? You're too soon. I'm still trying to get Zapdos, and Moltress and Mew."

The room we were in was a cozy space, with a large TV against one wall and long couches in a square around it. On one of those couches, a fifteen year old boy was playing with an old gameboy while lying upside down, his feet in the air and his hair brushing the ground.

"Good luck," Valeria said casually as we walked by, not even looking at the boy. "If you haven't caught all three by the time I'm back, you lose. You have an hour left. I'm going to introduce the dragon to everyone."

"I don't want a dragon type," Franklin Richards said, returning to his game. "Everyone knows fairy types are better."

"Dragon types are the best," I muttered petulantly. "Tell me that's another robot. Please? Any teenage boy who doesn't think dragons are cool is obviously fake."

"He is," Valeria laughed. "We're still in the 'public' part of the building."

"The dungeon crawl we just went through is public?" I asked in disbelief.

"When family, friends, or heroes come over, they have to see something," Valeria explained. "It also acts as a second layer of defence."

"What was the first?"

"The museum. All the exhibits are actually various forms of security."

"Neet. So it's just a cover for a robot army and a way to make money?"

"That," Valeria nodded, still smiling, but it took on a wistful tone. "And I didn't want them to be forgotten." For a second, I wondered if her perpetual cheer would fail, but then she shook her head with a laugh and continued. "The official story is that all five upper floors are now part of Dad's lab, so this is the area I have people visit."

"And the truth?"

"It's home."

Throughout this entire time, Valeria Richards had remained cheerful, with a smile, a skip in her step or a laugh in her voice. But when she said 'home,' the word came through the smile with a yearning, a fervent desire that burned from within.

More than anything else, I could understand that fire.

I didn't say anything as she led me past the 'gym' where a robot version of Ben Grimm was running along an extra durable treadmill, past the 'bedrooms' where a robot Johnny Storm slept off a hangover, and past the 'fake lab' where a robot Reed Richards tinkered with some small device.

Was that the equivalent of a human trying to create a Frankenstein monster? Food for thought.

It was only because I was looking for it that I noticed the discrepancies.

Some rooms were messy, some were studiously clean, some saw a lot of use, and some were never used. This fake living area did not look fake, except for one thing.

It lacked chaos.

The messes were those deliberately left behind. Empty rooms were utterly empty. The gym's equipment was clean, lacking the wear and tear from daily use when people dropped them or sweat-stained them. Little things like that indicate that no true life existed in this fake home.

Life was messy, chaotic, and prone to wastage and inefficiency.

This place would fool most people, maybe even me, if I didn't know what to look for, but it would not hold up under long term inspection.

"Are the robots your creation?" I asked as we entered another elevator hidden behind a fake wall. "How do you deal with their powers?"

"Elastic, super-dense, or non-flammable material. Mom's force fields are trickier. Thankfully, she never needs to use them publicly, but her invisibility is the easiest." Victoria explained, imputing a code in this new elevator. "Since they're not active heroes, they don't need to use them much. Uncle Doom had the basics already. I am just keeping their code current and ensuring they can react properly. My brother's is the hardest since I need to change it's appearance regularly."

"You were pretty friendly with it down stairs," I half asked. It was weird to me to engage with something 'unalive' as if it was. If it was undead, I could understand, as that was still 'alive,' but to talk to a toaster? "Some sort of bet?"

"I can't have an AI or other people here, so I entertain myself testing their programming," Valeria admitted with a giggle. "This will be the seventh time Franklin loses this bet. Using the abilities of an average human, it is theoretically possible to win against me, but statistically impossible. Also, they all have a psychic imprint of my real family overlaid on them to help it be more authentic, so I like pretending they can actually hear and understand me."

Well, that's depressing. Even if the little girl said it with a smile.

"If you can't have people here, why did you invite me?" I asked instead of commenting, continuing to follow behind her as we exited the elevator that went way too long to be in the Baxter Building.

If the area downstairs had been a curated living area, then this place was the real deal.

A copy of the same living room, buried under a mess of tools, electronics, notes, and inventions. The prototypical genius' messy workshop overlaid a family's living space. Nothing was visibly hazardous, no food or biological waste, but it was clear this place hadn't been cleaned in a while.

In the quagmire of MAD SCIENCE, only once spot was absolutely pristine.

A circle of clear space surrounded one wall covered in pictures. Dozens of photographs. Some showed the Fantastic Four in costume, sometimes with other heroes or in exotic locations. Others were pictures of Reed Richards and Susan Storm. On their wedding, their honeymoon, pregnant, at the birth of their first child, the second child. Baby Franklin and Valeria Richards.

It was a wall of memories, telling the story of a family through the years.

Downstairs was a museum to the Fantastic Four, the heroes, but this was a gallery to them as people.

Valeria gave the shrine a quick look as she walked through the pile of junk that littered the floor, carelessly stepping on pages of notes.

I was more careful, stepping on bare floor where possible as I followed.

"I invited you because you are the only one who can help."

"Right, the saving the world thing. You never gave me an answer on that, by the way."

"Years ago, my Uncle came back from a hell dimension," Victoria explained as we navigated a mirror of the apartment below, only messier. "Long story. Anyway, he arrives back on Earth right after Behemoth's first attack. He's a powerful sorcerer and a genius, so he immediately notices something's wrong with the heroes that fought the monster."

"Sebuttu," I nodded, following along.

"No," Valeria shook her head, the paused, tilting her head. "Well, yes. Even I was under the Stranger Endbringer's effect, so Uncle might have been too, but that's not what he noticed. Tell me, have you noticed the rising population of Supers worldwide? Or is a large powered population normal for you?"

"There are a lot of worlds in the multiverse." I shrugged. "It's more common than you'd think. I can think of worlds where the ratio is eighty percent Super or at a similar level. But yes, I have noted the higher than average powered population on this Earth, compared to other versions of this world."

"I'd love to pick your brain on the multiverse," Valeria chirped, and I had an image of her trying to cut open my skull and poking my grey matter with a needle.

Ugh. Little girls. The worst.

"What did your Uncle notice," I tried to steer the conversation back on track. "Just to be clear, we are talking about Doom here, right?"

"Right, so he's reviewing the footage of the fight, making notes and countermeasures in case Behemoth attacks him," Valeria rambled excitedly. "And he realizes that the Endbringer is sparing some heroes fighting it and killing others."

"The Endbringers have never fought at full power," I pointed out. "Their goal is to generate conflict, not kill everyone."

"Obviously," Valeria Richards rolled her eyes at me. "Anyone who didn't notice that is an idiot. I meant that Behemoth specifically targeted certain heroes. Some it killed, but others he targeted for a bit then shifted to a new target, leaving them alive."

"Was it forced to shift?" I asked, having given little study to the Endbringer's various fights before I arrived. "Or was it deliberate?"

"Deliberate. Or that is what my Uncle thought."

"Okay, so Doom does his best sleuthing about Behemoth. What did he find? And why am I the only one who can help with whatever it is?"

"He finds that the heroes affected are different, before and after Behemoth."

"Different, how?"

Was this the elusive 'Oppressor' after all? I had expected it since I didn't believe in coincidences, but I was ready to deal with someone else.

'Saving the world' was a day job on this planet.

"More brutal, higher rates of collateral damage, more prone to violence, and a greater efficiency as heroes," Valeria explained. "In individual cases, it could be chalked up to growing more experienced, facing a life threatening situation, or other factors. But the same patterns repeating over dozens of heroes from different cultures or belief systems?"

"I'm pretty sure greater efficiency is a good thing," I pointed out, playing devil's advocate. "But I do agree consistent behaviour between heroes is odd. What did Doom do?"

"He gathered more data," Valeria said with another eye roll, again treating the question as if the answer should be obvious. "When Behemoth appeared three months later and attacked New York, he observed and documented. The same pattern but different heroes. And those who fought in the first battle had higher survival rates as the Endbringer targeted others."

God, save me from the attitude of pre teen girls, please Dragon-Me?

"What pattern?" I asked instead of smacking the girl on the head.

"Firstly, the more empathetic a hero was, the less likely they were to be targeted," Valeria said, holding four fingers up and lowering them one by one as she spoke. "This means 'kinder' or heroes most concerned with civilians were safer than those who focused on defeating the Endbringer."

"That seems like proper threat priority to me," I pointed out, continuing to play the devil's advocate.

"Secondly," the sassy small child continued, holding her remaining fingers to my face. Or my chest, in this case. She was really short, being a child and all. "Of those that appeared to be deliberately targeted, it would start with the most well known or influential hero and work it's way down as targets became available. Thirdly, those that survived its attention were disproportionately the most emotional. Hotheads, daredevils, the meatheads of the teams. While those who were more intelligent, or approached the battle from rational standpoints, died more often."

"How did Doom make these connections?" I asked. "How did he know their thought processes?"

"He was Victor Von' Doom," Valeria answered as if speaking to an idiot.

Dragon-Me? Status update on my miracle against pre teens? Pretty please?

"Anyone fighting an Endbringer was worthy of Doom's attention, so he had a psychological profile on them on top of their powers."

"My mistake," I snarked. "Please continue, oh professor of the obvious."

"I will," Valeria laughed, nose up in the air in a fake haughtiness. "But the final thing Uncle discovered was after the fight. The heroes targeted all reported the same thing, either from interviews, when drunk or talking to family in what they thought was privacy. They all felt an absolute moment of despair, helplessness, or fear. Either because they would die, their team would die, or the people they were defending would die. Yet they survived. It was a miracle to many."

"I don't believe in miracles." At least not in the non-spell variety.

Maybe not even in those since Dragon-Me hadn't given me my anti-cooties miracle.

"Neither do I," Valeria clapped joyfully, finally stopping before a door. In the fake apartments below it led to the fake Reed's lab, and they both looked like they could hold off a tank. "And neither did Uncle."

"Assuming this is all correct, the Endbringers weren't attacking to cause damage but to attract heroes. Which is at odds with their recent behaviour in this last attack. But it might be an outlier because of me. Back to Doom. So Behemoth was bringing them to their lowest point emotionally?" I asked rhetorically. "Why? Was it trying to trigger new powers in them?"

As Ciara proved, second triggers were still a thing in this world, and Supers with non-shard based powers could still develop them, as Doomsday proved, so was the Endbringer trying to increase triggers?

"That was one hypothesis," Valeria said as she input the code and scanned her iris and fingerprints into the console beside the lab door. "One that didn't hold up. The number of new powers developed in the heroes 'spared.' No, my Uncle theorized something else. Not the results of the emotion, but the emotion itself was the goal. It is the only explanation for why they would target specific individuals."

"That would be why the more empathetic and 'good' weren't targeted as often," I nodded, following that idea. "Those types feel emotions, the good and the bad, more than others."

"Right!" Valeria agreed, stepping through the now open door to the lab. I tried to follow her in, spotting various instruments and inventions, but she stepped out again. Holding a hand to have me wait, she input another code into the door and scanned the back of her hand and earlobe. The lab door closed. "And, with their new, ruthless and effective mentality, these heroes tended to inflict similar negative emotions on the villains they fought. Nothing extremely out of character, or people would start to notice, but enough of a change for there to be a pattern for my Uncle to find. A web of despair starting from the Endbringers, infecting every Super in the world eventually, killing those that don't succumb to the despair. Emotion is key."

"I'm following so far. The Endbringers, or whatever is behind them, want Supers to feel bad feelings so they can get some sort of control over them. It's convoluted, but it seems simple enough compared to other plots I've heard about. But to what goal? What is their endgame? Even if heroes are more ruthless, they still help people. They're not suddenly murderous maniacs. It's been years since Behemoth's first attack."

"Exactly! It's been years," Valeria cheered as we stood in front of the closed door to the lab for a minute. "Why wait once you have the most powerful heroes and villains under your control? Uncle never knew about Leviathan, Simurgh, or the other Endbringers, but they largely followed the same pattern. Ramping up and leaving most afflicted alive. Uncle had none of the perceptive we have now. Instead, he focused on a different question. Why did Behemoth attack then and there? Why attack an oil field first and not a city? New York would have been decimated if it had been the first target. Why then? Why not earlier or later? Why the time intervals between attacks?"

I knew a few of the answers to those questions, such as the Endbringer's energy requirements, but others I had no answer for

"Uncle came to two conclusions after investigating," Valeria said as she pushed one button on the control pad after waiting a specific amount of time since the lab door closed. "Firstly, the Super population had reached a threshold. A point by which there was enough of them, or they were strong enough, to meet a certain standard the Endbringers were waiting for. Secondly, Behemoth attacked when everyone was infected. Whatever control method they had, stimulated by despair or the equivalent emotion, was now present in everyone in the populous. My family included."

The lab door opened to a completely different space than before.

Half the room was a massive computer set up with dozens of screens. News footage, data streams, what looked like DNA strands, or even star charts scrolled by.

The other half of the room was dedicated to five beds and the glass coffins on top of them.

I immediately recognized Doom's iconic metal mask, and the other beds' occupants were even more apparent. I had just seen robots of them walking around.

"Physically, they're dead," Valeria said, walking up to Doom's bed and placing a hand on the glass. "Spiritually, they are still alive. Their minds connected very loosely to their fake selves. My Uncle's work. Their bodies are perfectly preserved. Time doesn't pass for them. We have no idea whether whatever is inside of us can track the dead or see through their eyes, so we had to take all precautions. When this is all over, it will be like nothing happened to them. A long dream."

"What did you do to yourself," I asked with a tired sigh, rubbing my eyes as I remembered Emma's words from the Gala.

"Only my brother and I had the neuroplascitiy to handle the emotional lobotomy," Valeria Richards said with a wide smile. "So long as I undo it before my brain stops developing, I will have no long-term brain damage. I was the only option. I have no power to attract the attention of whatever is in us, even if I am infected, reducing the likelihood of it giving me any attention. All my inventions can be attributed to my dad or Uncle."

"So it infects everyone but only focuses on powerful or influential people?" I clarified, and she nodded.

"Easier that way. Get them while they are weak, and control them when they get strong. Uncle Doom would inevitably be targeted, and a powerful enough psychic could get around our protections. He was right. Doomstadt was attacked three years ago, possibly to get him. His Doom-bots fooled everyone. But he couldn't entrust the future to machines, as AI feel emotion, too. I was the only one he could entrust to find a cure while remaining anonymous. Everyone else could be working, unknowingly, for the Endbringer's master. My family never knew. Only me and Uncle. And now, you are here."

There might be no long-term brain damage, but I couldn't help the melancholy at the idea of a six or seven-year-old girl being left with the responsibility of saving the world and her family.

I didn't like children, but they should be able to be children. Let adults deal with the real world while they enjoy what innocence this world has.

Something Valeria never got to enjoy, cooped up as she was in this building with the corpses of her family.

Fucking comic bullshit.

"I can cure it," I nodded, reaching for Doom's body.

We'd be having... talks after I 'freed' him. I get that he had been working with what he had at the time, but his plan had too many holes. Entrust everything to six-year-old Valeria and hope she finds a 'cure?'

This could be another thing that would fly in comics, but it was something I couldn't accept.

"Don't!"

"Why?" I asked as the little girl hurried to stop me.

"Uncle had limited information when he made his discovery," Valeria hurried to explain. "It was the right call but for the wrong reasons. It doesn't matter if there is a cure if they get infected again."

"Did you find how this 'infection' spreads?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

I knew in Worm that Shards could 'bud,' splitting off parts of themselves to people nearby to spread powers. Was that what was happening?

"No," she shook her head, still smiling. She was unable to stop. "It could be digital, airborne, through touch, or all of the above. I have found no trace of any substance in DNA, no psychic power or magical control. This, whatever it is, is either too small to be discovered or too large to be comprehended."

"Why would that stop me from poking sleeping beauty?" I asked. "I'm pretty sure we're isolated here. If not, I can bring them to my Island and do it there."

"Then we lose," Valeria giggled as if I had told a joke. "All I know is that every alien that has arrived on Earth since I started observing has exhibited the same symptoms. Sometimes after days, sometime hours. They desire to inflict despair. To heroes, villains, anyone really. Joker might use terror, but Superman uses his power alone. All of them do it in one form or another. It's the trigger, the button push, that puts them under control, but it is not the infection itself. The root cause. Treating a symptom does not heal the disease."

"Then why did you invite me if not to cure them?"

"Because you are the only one who can stop whatever this is. I can keep my family safe, but only you can save them and the world."

As proof, she pressed another button on her remote, and the dozens of computer screens all started playing images of the same event.

I watched a video of myself handing the Godslaying Blade to Diana and her plunging it into Doomsday's skull.

"Do you also want my sword?" I asked. Did people only want me for my weapons and not me? Wasn't the greatest weapon the friends we made along the way?

"No?" Valeria half asked. "Why would I want a sword?"

"Swords are cool," I pointed out. "But if not my weapon, why are you showing me this?"

"Because it's proof you aren't being controlled." Valeria gestured at the screen. "Doomsday would have succeeded in laying waste to Metropolis, killing dozens of heroes and tens of thousands of civilians without you. Then you stared down the strongest heroes of this world without flinching. That's when I knew. You're too powerful to feel despair by anything Earth can throw at you, even if you are infected. Everything after has just proven it. You were bantering with Trigon the Terrible! You're not scared of anything here, are you?"

Much like her Uncle before her, she came to the correct conclusion for the wrong reasons. It wasn't that I didn't feel fear. I couldn't be controlled either because of my Defences or my Element.

Still, this put another piece in the puzzle I had been assembling.

I had gotten what I came for.

"Please," Valeria Richards begged me with a smile. "Elden Lord. Mikael. Please save my world. Please save my family."

Little girls. The worst.

Especially since I was going to be a father soon.

"Why bring me here?" I asked instead of making a promise I might not be able to keep. "Why show me them? I could be an asshole and take all the cool shit in this building for myself. Kill you and finish these guys off and get the fuck out. I don't need to help you or save the world. I am not a hero. So, why me?"

"Because I don't have a choice anymore. I've failed," Valeria said with a laugh as she twirled. "I failed to find a cure. I failed to even find out how it spreads. And we're out of time. The pattern shifted. I should have over a decade left before my alterations are irreversible and two more before the world ends. But you messed it all up."

"While I do enjoy fucking things up, I really don't like being accused of things I didn't do," I said, not letting on how much her forced cheer put me off. "It's a pet peeve of mine."

"But you did," Valeria said, pushing another button and some of the screens shifted.

One still showed the Doomsday incident, but the others were footage of me eating the Simurgh and my wives killing the Endbringers. Leviathan was absent, as none of the heroes and their bodycam footage were there for that fight.

"Your presence forced it to accelerate its schedule," Valeria giggled as Tohu floated above the Jewel. Its small body was only one of many flying or Mover Supers that had gathered under the call of Emma's Semblance. "It released Doomsday to cause despair after the loss of Simurgh gave people hope. When that failed, it tried with numbers and distraction, which also failed. More Supers fell under its sway, certainly, but it lost valuable tools."

"Tools that are disposable," I pointed out. If this thing was the same thing that had the entities under its control, then Endbringers were nothing compared to Eden, Zion, and the Supers of Marvel and DC under its control.

"But it lost something," the little girl insisted, clapping joyfully. "I have never managed that. Now? Now, it will have to take drastic action, and it will be against you, who have stopped it repeatedly. The enemy of my enemy might not be my friend, but it will be my enemy's enemy."

"And I assume you don't know who or where this thing is?" I asked with a sigh. A part of me admired the whole 'eminence in the shadow' aspect of my enemy, but man was it annoying I couldn't go and blow it up. I wanted to be the shadowy mastermind, damn it. "Preemptive attacks are kinda my thing."

I had been gathering all this information from Ciara, the gods, from my own investigations and now from this brain-damaged girl, but I still had nothing actionable.

I had no way to seize the initiative.

I hated that.

I hated having to wait for someone else to make a move. I flourished in situations when I made plans instead of reacting. And it felt like shit to wait for an enemy to make a move instead of forcing them to dance to my toon.

I was a control freak like that.

"I know it's not on Earth," Valeria shrugged. "Not in space either, at least not this solar system. A parallel world line is my best approximation. It works through mediums. What little psychological profile I have been able to build indicates it has an enormous ego, thus seeing no point in doing things itself when it has minions or slaves. It is patient, operating for decades without change, which means it is a creature without fear of death by age. And it has a goal. One that needs an army of Supers. It's why it is waiting so long and actively encourages the spread of powers. Your presence accelerated its plans by decades."

That... did and didn't help me. I couldn't just jump from parallel world to parallel world, hoping to blindly stumble upon this Hidden Boss.

Well, I could. The perks of infinite power.

But even if I spent only a second in each world, there were unlimited versions of Earth, and my tests with Raven proved that time did not freeze between realities. So I could be gone for years and never encounter anything.

It would explain the Entities' need and ability to work across different realities. And it helped me narrow down my list of possible suspects and methods.

"So, will you help me save the world?" Valeria asked. "With your ability to operate without fear of its control and my direction, we can work together to hunt this thing down."

"I promise nothing, and I don't follow orders," I said immediately. Valeria's smile didn't leave, but it did dim slightly. I continued. "But, I don't mind working with smart people. Even if they are super creepy."

"Yes!" Valeria cheered with a little fist pump. Then she held out her hand, pinky extended. "One of the last things my mom told me was that you must seal a deal. So shake on it. Let's save the world."

For all her genius, Valeria Richards was still a girl who had been left on her own since she was six. Emotionally stunted, literally and figuratively, she followed the words of her parental figures, Doom included.

That, or she was fucking with me.

I gave it even odds.

"Let's try to save the world."

With a bemused smile of my own, I pinky swore with the world's smartest girl.

I also internally sighed.

There were already rumblings in the Family about Tsunade's impending pregnancy and who wanted children and who didn't.

When they learned of Valeria's situation, they were going to force me to adopt this sassy small child, wouldn't they?