8

The room was quiet save for the sounds of typing on keyboards.

The problem with leadership is that there are some things one cannot delegate. With Thinkers more common than most people actually knew existed, data security is paramount for any organization to survive the long term.

The Merchants, for example, use a clever system of autotomy to keep people from tracking down anything critical.

The Empire exploits the power base in Europe and mostly hides behind legitimacy and offshore bank accounts for anything important.

I preferred the autocratic route myself. It meant extra work for me, but I had the time since I rarely slept and despite my reputation, I didn't go on rampages that often.

A dragon's lair was a dangerous thing to trespass in. As was his spreadsheets.

<This is still boring.>

Hush. We can chat while I work.

I was typing away on this month's finances. The keyboard was one of the older buckle-switch designs, nominally durable for decades. If I was careful, I needed only one a month. Being a Brute wasn't easy on anything I owned, be it clothes, tools, or loyal gang members.

The computer was not connected to any form of network, and, aside of a single power cable going down and a couple cables going up, it was sealed. Buried in a tiny crawlspace I'd carved out the concrete and refilled. The computer wasn't for me, I didn't forget anything anymore, but Lee had instructions to teleport carefully into the crawlspace and deliver the machine to anyone suitable to continue the ABB in my absence.

I took no chances with anything now. The Yangban had taught me that I wasn't nearly as invincible as I thought.

<I don't recall my time as Warlord being bored with paperwork.>

That's because you had near infinite multitasking as a side effect to your powers. Tell me, after you got your powers, can you ever recall feeling bored, the sensation I mean, even once?

The silence proved my point.

You are Lung now, I reminded her. You don't have that anymore. You will endure boredom at times. It's not all fire and flame.

Payroll went quickly as there weren't many people to add aside of the Filipino's, and there was little else to change. Some were now in jail and their families would receive recompensation if they depended on them, I'd had it empirically proven that it was cheaper in the long run than to do this than to deal with hungry families selling what information they knew. And it reinforced loyalty within the organization.

A bonus to Jin, not only for his excellent work last night but also a bit extra for his van. Check.

<Why are you doing this?>

This?

I found my brow furrowing on its own.

<Why are you doing this for me?>

Because you are dangerous.

I entered another line on the spreadsheet while she digested that. Then my eyes narrowed in a familiar menacing fashion.

<Explain.>

Instead of talking -thinking- whatever I was doing to communicate with her, I entered another line instead.

She grew angry, I could feel it building in the back of my mind, like a storm. Yet distinct from my own.

<Explain now.>

I wanted to sigh out loud, but that might make Lee curious. I settled for rolling my eyes instead.

Taylor, do you know what you sound like right now?

<What?>

You sound like Lung.

There was more silence in the depths of my mind.

Ever since you were driven into my mind, things have changed for me. I am so calm now, so much so it startles me. I haven't had this since before I became the dragon -the Lung.

It's like...

<Like?> Her voice was so quiet now.

Either you are taking the brunt of the side effects of my powers, or I think you are my powers given a mind.

She mused on that.

<I think it's the former.>

How did you come to that conclusion?

<Because I've talked to it.>

It's one thing to know that your brain is hooked to a piece of a vast inter-dimensional being thanks to memories not of your own, it's another to talk to it.

Taylor, what...does it say?

<Let me check.>

What could it say? Thanks to Taylor I understood their existence as a thing and not just a vague unknown force...

<Umm... Why won't you die?>

What?

<It's not talking to you,> She was quick to explain. <I think it's talking about the paperwork.>

Again, what?

<It can't 'see' -or rather sense- what you are facing without your scales out. But it knows you are facing something, and from its perspective, it's a foe you face over and over but never truly conquer. But you never have your scales out, are never angry, are never damaged enough for it to heal and analyze what you are fighting. All it has is a name, 'Paperwork'. And it keeps trying to find a way to kill it.>

I had to, with some effort, hold back from laughing. It wouldn't be good for the furniture.

<It's had only one real success so far.> Taylor paused, obviously listening to it. <That's when it replaced your brain with scales. That's how you get smarter right? Paperwork was driven off far quicker than usual.>

And there it was, the secret to the mighty mind of Lung.

Paperwork.

I remember when I first got my powers, when I felt the bullets get pushed out of my torso, I didn't have the intelligence then. And without it I fought and burned and conquered until I had all the gangs in the local area, powered or not, under my control. I remember sitting with my men in front of a big pile of money, drugs and guns.

And as Oni Lee wasn't with me at that point, I trusted no one but myself to divide the spoils.

So I had to count it, and divide it, and set aside funds for purchases...

And before I knew it I had casinos, brothels, drug dens, and so much more.

And every building, every kilo of powder, brought with it more paperwork.

<At this point, it keeps trying new variations on your brain, trying to find the one that will finally destroy it.> She herself was tittering, trying hard not to cackle in my skull.

How many variations has it tried?

A brief pause and then...

<Five-thousand and eighty-two.>

It had taken me eleven days to conquer the gangs in the prefecture of Japan I was in, and every day after that, for thirteen years, ten months and twenty-nine days it's been trying to murder a swimming pool with a fork.

<Yep.>

I couldn't laugh, I'd destroy the desk...

<Die Paperwork! This time I have you for sure!>

...Even my mighty control has limits.

---===---​

Lee watched from his own laptop as Lung broke out in loud booming laughter. His chair lasted seconds before it was torn apart.

Unusual.

Anger was common, but laughter?

He tried to think of when he had last seen that, but found he couldn't remember. It was gone, like so much.

He tried to think of what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to laugh with him?

After a moment, he shrugged, his friend would tell him what he needed to do. As always.

He moved the jack of diamonds onto the queen of spades. Seven more moves and he would win.

The fact that it was the exact same game of solitare he had played for over a year and a half didn't bother him.

Very little did.

When it was done, he would start again.

---===---​

With paperwork effectively slain, I moved onto practice with Lee. This took place in a different warehouse, one slated for demolition.

We'd help it along.

Lee would be off practicing his guns and knives, well away from me. Duplication did degrade moving parts, and it was important to fire real ammunition and clean real guns. It slowed his loss down.

And Taylor, the voice within my head, would learn how to Lung.

<That's not a verb!>

Correction, when you are a Brute, your name does become a verb. And when you become a raging dragon of metal and flame it becomes anything you want it to be.

I relaxed and tried to go limp while standing.

Now, start walking, up to the beam and back.

<I'll try.>

I felt my arms wobble limply for a moment.

<It's hard. Like I'm so far away and I'm trying to use sticks to control everything.>

Naturally, it won't be easy.

And so, with one of the many tricks I'd picked up over the years to coax my power in advance, I remembered destroying someone.

Armsmaster.

Good times.

I felt the scales begin to itch under my skin, the fire licking the backs of my arms.

Try it now.

My arm moved easily for her.

<So it's easier the more you use your powers.>

More than that, I remember more of your life right now. It seems the more I am Lung, the more I am also you.

<What do you remember?>

Following your father into a warehouse. You must have been ten or so. 'Bring your daughter to work day' I think is what it's called?

<Oh yes, I remember that. I got to skip a day of school.> Her tone was nostalgic. <I think it's because we went to a bunch of warehouses like this one. I remember exploring all the boxes while Dad talked to the guys there.>

Good. Now walk, to the beam and back.

And I found my first step a bit staggered, the second somewhat less...

Ten minutes later I found myself stalking back and forth, burning footsteps trailing behind me as my bare feet ignited the bits of sawdust that remained.

<I'm not walking like I used to.>

Different pelvis? You are a man now.

<That and more. It feels so natural to pace like this. Easy.>

Indeed, I tended to pace as well. It was hard to keep still.

<It shouldn't be.> Her voice was sad. <I shouldn't find this easy.>

Ah, you finally are beginning to understand, aren't you? Why you are dangerous, yes? All the power of Lung, none of the years of discipline.

<It's more than that. When I was shoved into your head, I don't think all of who and what I was came along.>

What do you mean?

I found myself squatting down, looking at the dust and ash.

<It's not just walking like you, look.>

My fingers wrote 'T A Y L O R" in the ash. In my handwriting.

<I write like you too. I remember learning cursive in school but...>

My fingers trembled slightly.

But I, Kenta, never did.

That makes sense. If I was sending a bundle of memories back, I wouldn't include how the body works. After all, it's smaller in the past. Best to use what is already present.

But...

But what else wasn't taken along? How much of her is her?

<I think I'm number five-thousand and eighty-one.>

I could feel her loathing, her anger, her despair.

<I'm not Taylor Hebert am I?>

I sighed, which was only partly fire at this point.

It is as I have said. You are Lung. As am I, despite being Kenta.

<I'm just a fucking mistake!> My fist powdered the concrete in front of me, destroying the 'T A Y L O R'.

What would you like me to say? I meant it when I said you are Lung now. I figured all this out long after we had broken Armsmaster. Why do you think I did what I did last night?

Her anger was growing, as was my scales and flame. Soon there was room for both of us fully in my head. And just like how she could freeze me still when she interfered, I could do the same.

And so I froze, not even breathing, wrapped in flame.

Do you remember the words of your president, John F. Kennedy? "The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word 'crisis.' One brush stroke stands for danger; the other for opportunity."

<Yes.>

It is wrong.

"Crisis" (wēijī) consists of two syllables that are written with two separate characters, wēi and jī. But the jī does not mean opportunity. The jī of wēijī, in fact, means something like "incipient moment"; a crucial point, when something begins or changes."

And that is where we are. At that moment.

Number 5081, Taylor Hebert, the Pearl of Lung, why are you here? Why did you get sent back?

<I don't know!>

You know. You said it last night. So you could fix things.

<But I'm not in my body! I'm not me!>

Would you snuff her life out? Like you almost did with me? Would you kill that girl?

<I- I...>

Would you pour a monster inside that body? When we are like this I remember what you had become in the end. How human lives became like flies. How parahumans were collected into a swarm. How they died with your hand pulling them into that golden fire.

Would you make that girl, who wants to be a hero, into a murderer?

<No.>

And then I had full control of my body once more.

I was fifteen feet tall now, and the flame was starting to ignite the concrete. But there was no one to fight, nothing to kill, and nothing I wanted to burn. So I grabbed the heat and flame and pulled it tightly to my body.

The closest I could do to giving her a hug.

Then I shall name you, you who was once Taylor Hebert, was once Khepri, Weaver, Skitter.

You are all those names, were those names, and can never be those names.

And now you have one more.

You are Pearl.

---===---​

I was fully human once more. I heard the roof creak as the metal cooled. Around me was dust and ash, as always.

Lee was already there, a pair of jeans at the ready. As always.

And the Pearl within me was silent. Waiting to see what would come of my words.

I would need something for tomorrow. It was going to be a big day.

"Lee, get the car ready, we have to get some things."

"Where are we going?" Three questions! This day was rare indeed.

I smiled.

"To see Taylor, who else?"

L