Banner by bushtuckapenguin

Chapter Seven:

Shadow of Madness

 

 

 

 

           After about an hour of walking in the dark, the sergeant led them to an entrance to a dusty old basement below a police station near the north end of Atlas.

The officer had managed to retrieve their weapons before they left, though Rowan’s seemed to be acting up. Whenever he tried to screw it into place, Ten heard him yelp and curse. He would then to seem to forget about it, only to try the exact same thing a few minutes later, to a similar result.

        As they climbed up out of the basement into the station, Rowan walked up to her and Argo. “Hey,” he said, “I’ve been thinking.”

        “Congratulations,” Ten replied, “I know how hard it is for you.”

        He grinned. “Glad someone appreciates the effort I’ve put into this.” His tone turned serious. “It’s just… I had a dream last night, about Petros. He was taunting me, saying that I’d never escape the stuff I’ve done. He told me that I would never be more than what he made me to be.”

        “And you think he was right.” It wasn’t a question; Ten didn’t even need her semblance to see the doubt in her brother’s eyes.

        “After some of the things I’ve done? Yeah, kinda.”

“Look,” Argo interjected, “we’ve all done some bad things”

“I ate a person’s leg once.” Colleen offered.

“…For instance. My point is that you can’t let what you did get in the way of what you will do.”

"I thought I would be full after just that leg... But I managed to eat the whole other one too!"

“…Okay that’s enough information.”

        “Hey, Jay?” Rowan asked the sergeant. “Where from here?”

        The young man thought for a second. “We need to get out of Atlas, find somewhere to lay low.”

        Rowan grinned, “I know the perfect place. I’ve got a couple of friends who live in a village to the south. There’s a cargo train that goes from here to there; I’m sure you could acquire a car for us to ride in.”

        “What village?” Ten asked. The area south of Atlas was very familiar to her.

        “Iapetus Point. It’s a safe haven in the shadow of Mount Madness. Safest place in Remnant from the grimm.”

        The sergeant looked surprised. “Safer than Atlas?”

        “The grimm are scared of the mountain.” Ten explained. “They say it’s made from the petrified remains of the Leviathan of Lazai.”

        Argo made a sound of disgust. “Such ridiculous superstitions.”

        Tenebra wasn’t so sure, but it didn’t matter either way. “You said you have friends there? Have I met them?”

        Rowan shook his head. “It’s a fence I used to deal with, and his husband. They can take care of themselves, so if it comes to a fight, we can count on their help.”

        The sergeant smiled. “This should be exciting. I’ve never been to the villages before!” Ten had to stop from rolling her eyes at the boy’s naivety. Anyone who had been to the villages would tell you that a life spent entirely behind Atlas’s walls was far preferable.

       

       

 

 

 

 

 

        Contrath Medraut paced furiously in front of Samael. “And you let them go?” He sounded angry, but it was hard to tell with Contrath. He always seemed angry.  “Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid that was of you?”

        “Medraut,” interrupted General Ironwood, “I’m sure that Hound has a reason for his actions.” He turned to Samael. “Please, explain what happened.”

        Hound was seated in front of a large wooden desk, with the two soldiers on either side. Seated directly in front of him was Councilman Pike, an aged man with pure white hair, who had been silent ever since Hound had entered. Hound nodded. “Sir, Rajah was carrying some very sensitive information that could be a major breakthrough for our efforts against the Hamadryads, and only he was able to unlock it. I felt that, since it seemed likely that we would lose the prisoners anyway, we might as well gain something from it.”

        The Councilman spoke. “A practical decision, certainly.”

        “But not one that he had the authority to make.” Medraut countered. “Those criminals attacked an Atlas military compound. They are dangerous!”

        “Where is the information now?” General Ironwood asked.

        “In the hands of one of my best officers, Sergeant Jay Stelleri-“

        Contrath laughed. “Stelleri? He got kicked out of the Academy after he almost accidentally set the training grounds on fire! He’s one of your best?”

        Hound scowled. “He may be a bit… clumsy, certainly, but he’s one of the most dedicated and loyal men I have ever met. I sent him out of the city with the suspects until we can deal with the Hamadryads, who are after the information.”

        “And what makes you think that they will let him return?” Ironwood asked. “These are dangerous people.”

        Hound nodded. “Which is exactly why I sent him with them. I figure that if he stays close to them he will be a more difficult target for the assassins. And Argo Rajah seems to be an honorable man, even if he doesn’t exactly stay on the right side of the law.”

        “Professor Ozpin said the same.” Ironwood looked thoughtful. “But his partner, Tenebra Skygge…”

        “She will listen to him, I’m sure of it.”

        “You seem awfully confident for a man who was almost killed before I got there.” Contrath pointed out. “Either way, you’ve overstepped your authority, Hound. There will be consequences.”

        “Huntsman,” the Councilman said, “remember that the police are a civilian institution, and therefore under the Council’s authority.”

        “The Council has no authority, except for that which the Academy chooses to grant it!” Contrath snapped. “Your actions have already undermined the security of Atlas enough!”

        Oh dear, Hound thought, here it goes. The Council and the Academy had been butting heads for three years now, with no sign of stopping. While the Chairwoman had raised them from a near completely vestigial entity, Contrath was right in that they had nothing with which to back their power up. If he felt it necessary, General Ironwood could wipe away that progress with a word.

        “Security?” The Councilman snorted. “I served in Atlas’s military for more years than you have been alive, huntsman. Don’t speak to me about security!”

        “Councilman…” Ironwood warned, but Medraut interrupted him.

        “You’re a fossil, Pike! A washed up has-been stuck in the last century!”

        Pike stood to his feet, using his black wooden cane to aid him. “Whereas you are simply a young upstart who thinks that his talents are worth more than decades of military experience!”

        “Councilman,” Ironwood said again, “Please do keep things civil. Medraut is right, the Council’s actions have diverted quite a lot of funds from Atlas’s defense budget.”

        “A budget that is already overinflated! The other kingdoms have survived with less than a quarter of what we spend; while we build bigger and bigger guns the underprivileged are starving in our streets, and your friends at the SDC get away with exploiting them without so much as a slap on the wrist!”

        Ironwood glared at the elderly man. “Your personal crusades do not take precedence over the survival of the entire kingdom!”

        Pike’s retort was stopped by a calm, clear voice, which cut through the tension that filled the room with a soothing ease. “Gentlemen, please do remain calm. We are all working for the good of Atlas, after all.” All turned as Chairwoman Dawn Lumina walked gracefully into the room, her golden eyes almost glowing with an air of serenity and warmth as they passed over Ironwood and Hound. “James, I am glad to see you are well. You as well, Sam.” She walked over to the table, followed closely by her towering bodyguard, Nerina Pontus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

        Hound bowed slightly. “Thank you, my lady.”

        Her smile faltered as she looked at Contrath. “Brother, I hope that you are not planning on making a scene.”

        “Of course not, dear sister.” The huntsman’s tone was dripping with venom. Hound had heard that the two of them didn’t get along, but the pure hatred in Medraut’s voice caught him off guard.

        Lady Lumina ignored the tone of his voice, and her smile returned. “I think that this situation can be resolved rather easily, though I’d like to talk with James in private about some of the details. Either way, I think that it is obvious that Samael should not be punished for his actions, which were perfectly reasonable under the circumstances.”

        “Of course.” Ironwood said.

        “I would suggest that my brother take a ship out to find these criminals, and apprehend them. Their help against the Hamadryads could certainly reduce their sentence, but that will be a matter for the trial.”

        Contrath nodded slowly, as if he expected there to be some sort of catch. “I could probably take them on myself, but in case we need to cover more ground, there is a Special Operative team on standby that could assist me.”

        Ironwood raised an eyebrow. “There is? I was under the impression that all teams were currently on assignment.”

        “Team MINT reported back six hours ago, sir.”

        “Good, I’ll have them report to you as soon as possible.” Ironwood turned back to the Chairwoman. “If Hound’s man can contact us, they should be easy to track down.”

        “There will be no need to put him in that sort of danger.” The Chairwoman said. “Aerial surveillance reports them heading for Iapetus Point.”

        Ironwood looked concerned. “You are not authorized to access that information, how did you…”

        “I asked nicely.”

        Contrath snorted. “Of course she did. Probably some cash on the side, but I’m sure it was mostly the asking that did it.”

        Nerina Pontus glared at him, or at least seemed to, it was hard to tell under her full-faced helmet. Clad from head to toe in azure armor, and standing over seven feet tall, the Chairwoman’s bodyguard was an intimidating individual despite her rather lanky proportions. Even Contrath Medraut, whose skill and arrogance were equally famous, seemed to be a little bit frightened by her. “If you insult her ladyship’s honor again,” she said in a soft voice that did not fit the towering person that it originated from, “I will personally…”

        Lady Lumina stepped in front of her. “Nerina, I appreciate the gesture, but I’d prefer you didn’t. His petty insults are not worth starting a civil war.”

        The huge woman bowed. “Yes, my lady.” She stepped back, but her gaze never left Contrath.

        The Chairwoman smiled. “Now, James, I’d like to talk to you in private about what comes next.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

        The cargo train sped over the steppes, and from his perch on top of the car, Rowan could see for miles. The glaciers and mountains to the north loomed over the vast plains, and he could see roving packs of grimm wandering the land, alongside herds of caribou, bison, and camels. Fortunately, the train was well protected, and none of the grimm got close without being gunned down by the turrets that were placed to guard the rails.

        Most of the year, the whole region would be blanketed in snow, but now, in late summer, there was only the occasional patch of frost. The wind was cold, but not freezing, and the skies were clear.

        Colleen was standing near him, protected from the cold by several layers of coats and jackets. She was staring over the plains towards their destination, muttering to herself, though her words were lost on the wind.

           They went through an area filled with hills and low mountains and then crested a rocky ridge, which dropped down to a wide valley. It was then that the mountain came into view. It towered over the valley, its peak reaching above the clouds.  Below it, Iapetus Point stood out against the bleak landscape, its fields and pastures standing out against the rocky mountains and frigid plains. To the east, the black trees of the Haunted Wood stood out just as much. The place was said to be completely uninhabited by any living thing, save for great black vultures that nested in its leafless trees. Even Rowan had never been stupid enough to attempt to see what lay within. The Wood, it was said, hated intruders.

           All in all, Iapetus Point was considered to be a very auspicious place for those fascinated with the occult. It was also the place where people who wanted to hide went. Criminals, outcasts, runaways and refugees all came to the village, and it had grown into a prospering town, producing food for Atlas in its fertile fields. It was a nice place, if you didn’t mind the frequent bad dreams, headaches, and the fact that its location made it a prime target for local warlords.

           The train pulled into the station at around four in the afternoon and the five of them disembarked. The train very rarely carried passengers, so the guard working at customs seemed surprised to see them. She was a lean, wiry woman, with a hatchet shaped face and sunken green eyes. Her brown hair matched the fur of the bushy tail that twitched as she spoke. “Do you have authorization to enter?

           Jay stepped forward. “I’m Sergeant Jay Stelleri, with Atlas Police.”

           Her eyes narrowed. “Identification?”

           The young man reached into his belt pouch, and pulled out his badge.

           “And your reasons for visiting?”

           “We’re here to see a friend.” Rowan cut in. “Last I heard he was with the guard.”

           “Name?” She asked.

           “Jet Perak.”

           The guard raised an eyebrow, but spoke into her radio. “Captain, there’s some people who say they’re here to see you. Should I let them past?” There was a pause. “Yes sir.” She opened the gate. “Welcome to Iapetus Point. Captain Perak will be with you shortly.”

           They waited a few minutes before Jet arrived. He was a handsome young man, with long black hair and brown eyes that sparkled with mirth. His head was adorned with a pair of long, delicate horns, like those of a gazelle. He wore a silver and black uniform, along with a pair of bandoliers, which were filled with knives. “Rowan!” He called. “It’s good to see you after so long.”

           Rowan grinned, and the two embraced. “Look at you! Captain, eh? When did that happen?”

           “Last month. The old Captain of the guard retired, and I was selected to take his place. I heard you were retired as well.”

           Rowan looked sheepish. “Well, I tried to.”

           “Not very hard.” Ten remarked.

           Jet cocked his head. “Is that so? Well, I guess Weaver owes me.”

           “How is he?” Rowan asked.

           “Still running the shop.” Weaver, Jet’s husband, ran a pawnshop at the south end of town. He had a sharp mind, and he wasn’t half bad at fixing up whatever he bought to sell for a good price. And since all sorts of eccentrics and collectors came to the town due to its rather unusual reputation, there was plenty of business. It had been Weaver who had made Rowan the prosthetic that he used to mount his katar, though the device seemed to have been damaged when the grimmspawn had knocked him down.

           “Me and my companions need somewhere to lie low for a bit. I was wondering if we could stay in the shop’s cellar.”

           Jet grinned. “Got yourself into trouble again? And who’s your friend in uniform?”

           Jay stepped forward. “Jay Stelleri, Atlas Police. Your friend and his companions are fleeing a pair of assassins working for the Hamadryads. I am here to safeguard information that the assassins are also searching for.”

           The gate guard made a sound of disgust. “Those rotten criminals? If I had known you were against them, I’d have let you in without contest! If it were up to me, I’d wipe Hamadryas Rajah and his entire line from the face of Remnant!”

           Argo and Ten exchanged a look. “Even those who aren’t a part of his syndicate?” Ten asked.

           “No matter how many times it sheds its skin,” the woman responded, “a snake is still a snake.”

           “Forgive Ecru,” Jet said, “she has history with the Rajahs.”

           “Which means I know them better than you.” She said. “And let me tell you they’re rotten to the core, every single one.”

           Jet led the five of them out onto the street. “You remember how to get to the shop?” He asked.

           “Yep.” Rowan said.

           “Right. Head there, my shift is over in a couple of hours. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He turned his head as an aircar flew overhead. “Oh dear. Looks like we have some more visitors. I should be going”

           Argo tensed up. Well, he tensed even more than he already had. “Anyone we should be worried about?”

           Jet sighed. “Depends on your patience for fools.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

           “All I’m saying,” Hal said as Wisteria guided the car into the dock, “is that, given the way that the system is wired, a single mistake could cause the collapse of civilization across Remnant!”

           Wisteria groaned. “For the last time, Hal, the disruption of the cocoa trade would not cause the collapse of civilization!”

           “You say that now, but can you imagine the reaction that people would have if the world’s chocolate supplies were suddenly cut off? It would be sure to draw in the grimm!”

           Wisteria finished parking the vehicle, and unbuckled her belt. “Hal, here’s the thing you’re forgetting: not everyone would react to the loss as strongly as you would. Just because you think that not having chocolate would be the end of the world does not mean that it’s the general sentiment of everybody in Remnant. We can live without it.” Hal looked shocked at the very notion. As the two of them exited the car, Wisteria desperately tried to find something else to talk about. “So, any word from Atlas?” She asked.

           “A new shipment of androids will be arriving in three weeks. With that addition to our labor force, construction should only take another year and a half.” He looked giddy. “This is going to change everything!”

           “Well, we still don’t have any idea how to power the damn thing, but I’m sure that it’ll work just fine without an energy source.”

           He waved it off. “Anyway, I’ve got a list of supplies that we need to pick up while in town. I can pick up the mechanical components if you can grab food and water.”

           “Not gonna happen. I know you, you’ll get distracted and end up buying a whole bunch of useless junk!”

           “What?” He sputtered. “When have I even bought anything useless?”

           “Of course, how foolish of me. I forgot how essential twelve board games and a remote-control helicopter are when you’re living in the goddamn mountains!” She shook her head. “No, I’m going with you.”

           “But…”

           “Hal!” She glared at him.

           He pouted like a child, but didn’t protest any more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           Weaver’s pawnshop was a small establishment, but its shelves were absolutely packed with various antiques and curios. Several display cases lined the back wall, and some items were even suspended from the ceiling. When Rowan led the group inside, the owner was busy examining a mask and didn’t even look up when the door opened.

           “Just one moment,” he said, almost too fast to understand, “I’m almost finished.” He was a dark skinned man, whose eyes were obscured by a pair of red-lensed spectacles. He had short black hair and wore yellow and black clothing that left his upper arms and back bare. Protruding from his back were four long, spindly legs, like those of a spider, two of which he used to hold the artifact steady while he inspected it. He moved with a deftness that showed Ten that he was very experienced at his job.

           After a brief moment he looked up at the group. “Ah, yes, Rowan! I got your message. Come on to the back, it’s much less cramped.” Barely acknowledging them, he led them into a back room that, true to Weaver’s word, was significantly more spacious. Several chairs had been arranged, and a set of stairs led down to what Ten assumed was some sort of storage cellar.

           Ten allowed herself a quick glimpse of the man’s aura, which was enough to show her that his thoughts were remarkably focused, without any of the stray flickers of emotion that usually showed when she scanned someone. Though obviously a bit eccentric, Weaver was definitely intelligent and certainly not to be underestimated.

           She waited as Rowan filled Weaver in on the events that had transpired, with Argo and the officer occasionally interjecting with details that he had missed. The spindly collector took it all in with surprising calm, given the chaos that was being described. When they finished, he nodded.

           “I can provide assistance, of course. The Hamadryads are not the kind of people I like to get entangled with, but I would never turn away a friend. Either way, I think that’s a minor problem.”

           Argo nodded. “You’re right, of course.”

           What were they talking about? A pair of assassins was chasing them, and they said it was just a minor issue? “What are you talking about?” She asked.

           “Kurgan Torva.” Argo furrowed his brow. “The grimmspawn we saw at the facility. He was a scientist for Arkham. Dr. Wyatt had a file on him which said that he was fired a month ago for obsessing over a personal project.”

           “What’s your point?”

           “He’s a grimmspawn, and an intelligent grimmspawn at that, which is completely unheard of. And during the attack, he had a pair of beowolves with him that he was ordering around. So we have more than a pair of hired killers on our hands, we have an intelligent zombie with a plethora of scientific knowledge, some way to control grimm, and now, thanks in part to us, an incredibly powerful weapon that he could likely use to expand that control.”

           “In summation,” Rowan said, “we screwed up real bad.”

           Ten raised an eyebrow. “You skipped the part where that’s our problem.”

           “Of course it’s our problem!” Rowan snapped. “We’re responsible for this! Without us, there would have been plenty of guards to deal with him!”

           “Man,” the sergeant said, “that’s a real shitty coincidence. I mean, imagine the kind of bad luck you’d need for that to happen!” There was silence for several seconds as everyone stared at the young man. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to say anything offensive!”

           “No,” Argo said, “you’re right. The odds of this happening are, well, pretty much zero. Unless…”

           Ten made the connection. “Ah, shit.”

           “What?” Rowan said. “Am I missing something?”

           “It wasn’t a coincidence. God damn it!”

           Argo sighed. “Sable set us up. We were a distraction.” He kicked his chair in frustration. “I should have seen it coming! I thought something smelled fishy, but I didn’t think too much about it, and now everything’s gone downhill!”

           “I didn’t smell anything.” Colleen said.

           “It’s a metaphor.” Rowan explained.

           “Is that a kind of food?”

           “I’ll explain later.” Rowan turned to Weaver. “Anyway, while we figure this mess out, I was wondering if you could help me out with something.” He lifted the metal prosthetic that went over the end of his left arm. “This thing just broke down after the fight.”

           Weaver moved over and looked at it. “You’re lucky it lasted this long!” He said. “I never intended for this thing to be permanent! I told you to go to a real engineer as soon as possible to get a better one!”

           “Oh… right. I… I kinda forgot.”

           Weaver sighed. “Well, I don’t know what I can do. I’m not an expert in cybernetics.” He paused. “Though that does remind me… come to the front, there’s something I’ve been keeping for you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           Weaver led Rowan over to an old, dusty display case. He brushed it off, and Rowan saw a pair of very familiar pistol-katars, their handles and barrels covered in sliver and gold leaf. “I found them in the possession of a scavenger under the employ of Onyx Hildetand, the Shipwreck Queen. It looks like the Lazai alchemists did their job well; there’s not a scratch on them. It’s rather remarkable craftsmanship, especially for something made so long ago.”

           The weapons had come from the Great Tomb of the Emperor Laziat, the first and last man to bear that title. Rowan had taken them off of a Vacuoan privateer named Jack Dawes, who had looted them from the tomb several years before. He had thought the blades lost for good when they had sunk along with his first ship, the Red Devil, during a skirmish with mercenaries under the employ of the Schnee Dust Company.

           “Weaver, that’s incredible! Though I can’t exactly use them very effectively in my current state.”

           “I don’t understand why you don’t just get a new hand from Atlas. Someone with a career as successful as yours must have the cash to do it.”

           Right. That was something he had neglected to mention while corresponding with Jet and Weaver. “I… I don’t have any of it. The money, I mean. I wanted to make a new start, get away from the whole business like you did. So I left it all with Annie.”

           Weaver chuckled. ”Well, that worked out well.”

           Rowan was about to retort when the door to the shop opened, and a pair of individuals, a man and a woman, walked inside. The man was of medium height, with wild turquoise hair, a thin face, and blue eyes. He wore a pair of glasses whose arms seemed to resemble the hands of a clock, an orange scarf, a teal waistcoat and pants, and a white shirt. He moved with a sense of erratic, dynamic energy that conveyed a very short attention span. His companion was a tall woman with purple hair that looked like it used quite a bit of gel, similarly colored eyes, and a look of amused exasperation on her face. She had a large weapon strapped to her back that somewhat resembled a spear.

           “Ah, good, you’re here!” The man said, smiling. “We need to pick up a few key items if you have them.”

           The woman rolled her eyes. “What he means to say is ‘Hi Weaver, how are you doing’. Right, Hal?”

           “Erm, yes, sorry, got a bit excited. It’s good to see you.” The man shook Weaver’s hand.

           “And what brings you two down to Iapetus?”

           “We’re in need of some replacement pieces for the machinery in the research station,” the woman said, “and since we can’t find them anywhere else in town, we thought we’d check here before trying to order them from Atlas.”

           “Excuse me,” Rowan interrupted, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

           “Oh,” Weaver said, “of course. Rowan, this is Doctor Halcyon Traveler and his assistant Wisteria Thorn. Doctor, this is my good friend Rowan Royman. He’s going to be staying with me while he works out a bit of a tricky situation that he’s found himself in.”

           Doctor Traveler shook Rowan’s hand vigorously. “Greetings, Mister Royman!” He paused for a second. “You’re missing a hand.”

           “Really?” Rowan said dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

           “Well that is worrying! And rather perplexing…”

           Wisteria sighed. “He was being sarcastic, Hal.”

           “Oh, right!” He shook his head. “Sorry about that. The intricacies of communication and social customs are a field in which I am rather lacking.” He peered at the stump of Rowan’s left hand. “It seems like a pretty easy fix, though. The wound looks like it was properly treated, so the attachment would be easy enough.”

           Rowan sighed. “I wish it were that easy. Weaver and I were just talking about it. I don’t have nearly enough money to get a new one.”

           “Is that so?” Doctor Traveler’s eyes lit up. “I could probably put something together for barely anything, if your friend is willing to supply some basic materials.”

           “You’d do that?”

           “No,” Wisteria said, “We don’t have the time.” Her exasperation was clear. “Priorities, Hal, remember? We talked about this.”

           The energetic intellectual waved her off. “I have my priorities perfectly in order!”

           “You spent three weeks last month cataloguing 37 species of ground squirrel sorted by the frequency of their mating calls, in order to find a solution to Shale’s Paradox.”

           “It worked!”

           “Yes, yes it did. And then you used that knowledge to devise a way to toast bagels perfectly evenly which, while impressive, is not what we’re being paid to do!”

           He pouted. “Please? It should only take six hours or so!”

           She sighed. “Fine… But if the folks back in Atlas get pissed at us, I’ll tell them exactly why progress has been slow. It doesn’t help that the whole grimmspawn thing was a total bust.”

           Rowan and Weaver exchanged a look. “Grimmspawn?” Rowan asked.

           Traveler nodded. “Wisteria and I were trying to discover a cure for the spawnplague. Though we managed to determine a probable source of the affliction, it seems that a cure is out of reach for the time being.”

           “A source?” Weaver asked. “What do you mean?”

           “It’s not a viral or bacterial infection, like a normal disease. It’s transmitted through a sort of psionic frequency, the same way that aura is measured.” He paused. “What’s wrong?”

           Rowan’s face was frozen in shock. “Oh shit!” That had been exactly how Argo had described the Plutonian device.

           Weaver seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Do you think…”

           Rowan nodded. “He’s gonna use it to spread the Plague.”