Nieves shook his head, expression twisting again. “If you know, then you know. When powers are used to produce materials, generate powers, there are traps, aren’t there? The powers don’t want to be used for simple, stupid things like nine to five jobs or manual labor. They want to fight, to hurt, or to cause chaos.”

“Many of them do, yes,” Jeanne said.

“Even when they seem tame, it ends in disaster. Hidden catches, or materials that were conjured from nowhere start to go back to nowhere after months or years.”

“Other worlds, not nowhere. But yes.”

Gary Nieves threw the booklet across the table. “What’s the catch? Where’s the trap?”

“There’s a subset of powers that seem to buck the trend, Mr. Nieves. That’s what I’d like to discuss with you, if it’s a concern.”

Powers derived from other sources. Powers bought and bartered for.

But to say it here, with people like Mr. Druck and Mr. Buckner at the table? Too dangerous.

“I’m done,” Mr. Nieves said. “You don’t need to worry about me anymore. I’m not a general who can handle this war that seems so inevitable, and I’m not someone who can come up with computer programs that break something this chaotic into something deceptively elegant—”

Kurt sniffed slightly.

“—and frankly,” Mr. Nieves said, “It fucking terrifies me that you’re one or both of those things.”

Those were the man’s parting words. Mr. Nieves gathered his things, including an umbrella, and marched from the room that was far too large for the table in its center.

“We’ll look this over and we’ll discuss,” Sierra said.

“I’ll discuss with people, sound them out,” Mr. Druck said.

“Thank you,” Jeanne said.

“I’ll talk to some people about it as well,” Mr. Buckner said. “I’m going to go before there’s any rain.”

“What we discuss here stays off the record,” Jeanne said.

“Yes, yes. Off the record, but still important.”

A power player of another sort, but at least he was cooperative.

Mr. Druck and Mr. Buckner left. Two very different people—the working class spokesman and the master of media with his expensive suit. They talked as they went.

Kurt, Sierra, and Jeanne remained.

“Any word?” Sierra asked. “You were looking at your computer.”

“Seven fatalities. Both villain groups had guns. I haven’t heard about any of your… compatriots being hurt.”

“Citrine—” Sierra started. “Jeanne. There was an occasion about three days ago that I was updating them on our meetings here. Tattletale said that Cauldron once told the Undersiders that they had no interest in being in charge.”

“I’m not Cauldron,” Jeanne said.

“It looks to me like you married in,” Sierra said.