"Men!" Max shouted. He was standing a catwalk overlooking the Industry members that had gathered in the warehouse. He spotted the cameras he ordered to be set up to distribute the message to the other members. He gave the cameras a hard look before going into his well-rehearsed speech.

"Our informants have revealed that all the villains in the city have come together to strike us down. Which means we can no longer operate under the cover of four different gangs. What you have been hearing in the news is true, you are all working for the same cause, by the same employers. And today, it has come time to unite and fight against these villains. It is time to do what we have been preparing for.

"It isn't simply enough to beat them!" Max raised his voice and leaned against the railing of the catwalk to communicate his tone. "It is to take away any trust they have in each other, which is why our moles will be making the first strike. And then, it is your job," Max pointed at them all, "to show the world that humanity is perfectly capable fighting against parahumans! After our moles have torn them in half, crippled their already tenuous trust in each other, it is up to you to perform the plans we have spent years perfecting. Remember your training, and do what you were hired to do. We will divide them! Tear them apart! Make them turn on each by planting seeds of doubt and growing hatred! And when it is over, we will watch them burn!"

Max stepped away from the edge and step to walk away, letting the gather people cheer or start to shuffle away as they chose. He still heard the cheering men as he opened the door to his personal exit and began to climb down the ladder, getting to the ground just a few feet back from a sleek black car waiting for him.

"Our base on Third and Clark Jeeves," Max said as he slid into the back seat of the car. The man in the front shot him a curious look in the rearview mirror.

"Third and Clark?" The driver asked. "Isn't that one of the bases we leaked to Coil's men?"

"I don't pay you to question my life choices," Max answer with rude sarcasm.

"Uh, yes sir."

As the driver started the car and started in his way, Max pulled out a clipboard and several sheets of paper and wrote some names at the top of each.

"Coil, Lung, Whirlygig, Faultline, Fog and Night, Fenja, Menja, Oni Lee," Max murmured as he scribbled them on. Then he paused and considered something for a moment.

"Does it say something that these speeches are the most tiresome part of my job?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand sir."

Max rolled his eyes. "Of course not, I don't pay you to do that either." He fell silent as he began writing out his contingency monologues.

***

"The bombs are in place," the radio buzzed. The Doctor squad leader hit the response button and said,

"Get clear and hit it."

"Wilco."

The squad leader let the radio drop silently as he stared at the Palanquin. Faultline left not too long ago, leaving behind just one of their own. A strange bald man named Gregor the Snail.

The squad leader watched the club silently as he waited for confirmation from the bomb team. He got some confirmation from the gunmen on the exits and the two snipers across the street, each one making it seem like the bomb men were taking too long.

Their confirmation came when the front of the Palanquin exploded.

"Move in!" He shouted as soon as they were going, raising his own assault rifle. Five men followed behind him as they approached the building. He kept his eyes peeled for any movement inside. Gregor the Snail wasn't much of a threat in this situation, probably died in the event of the explosion.

"Sir," the radio went off. "We have a problem."

As soon as it was said, the squad leader saw it. The building was changing shape.

"Labyrinth!" He shouted, plucking Kinder gas canister off his belt. "Smoke her!" Immediately, everyone went for their own canister. Within seconds what was left of the club was beginning to fill with smoke. The squad leader pulled out a grenade, popping the pin and holding the lever down as he waited for the gas to reach a critical mass to increase the likelihood of it getting the cape.

The gas started to disappear as jets of some unknown substance shot down from a set of stairs inside the club. Seeing his window closing he tossed the grenade into the club right before concrete walls rose up around the building, courtesy of Labyrinth.

They all waited for a tense moment as they heard the muffled explosion of the grenade inside. Keeping their guns trained on the building in case the two inside tried something, the squad leaders began to back away.

"How the hell were they able to leave Labyrinth behind without anyone noticing?" The squad leader demanded.

"I don't know, sir." An answer came from one troop or another. "What do we do now?"

"We withdraw, head back to base. Mission success."

"Success sir?"

"Yes," The squad leader said with a nod. "Massive damage down to Faultline's base of operation, causing tension between them and others. Now, pack it up and move out! I have no desire to be arrested."

***

Max Anders sat at his desk, moving some money around in preparation of today's exploits into the city. Everyone else should be out getting prepared, gathering the men, setting up the strike teams. He considered not attending at all, giving people no reason to think Max Anders had anything to do with E88 exploits of the day. But he decided against it, a leader should lead. He just had to make some final preparations. He might not as be well connected as Coil believed himself to be, but he still had ways of figuring things out. Including certain business that happened to be more than a little welcoming to The Four. He started moving funds, purchasing insurance policies and titles where he could. There was a frustrating little amount of them he was able to do that, but he would manage.

His computer let out a ping, alerting him to a breaking news story involving capes. He frowned as he opened the related link, think about how anything thing large enough to set off his alert would likely impede today's plans.

What he saw was surprising.

It was a man sitting in the centre of a half circle table surrounded by several people on each side of him. All of them wearing black and red robes. The man leaned forward and looked directly into the camera.

"This is a message to all those who make Brockton Bay their home." His stated.

"My name is Max Clay. You probably recognize that name as the man Cheshire and Nova recently uncovered as being in charge of The Workers and the other three new gangs. And it is true, I am Max Clay and we are The Sentient.

"But let's forget about us for a moment and talk about someone else we all know. The PRT. Not but a few days ago, Hookwolf burst free from his cell because the PRT purposely didn't put him in a cell with the proper security measures for him. They did this because villains staying in the cycle of fighting is good for their PR in the long run, good for manipulating you people into supporting their corrupt position.

"They also had a known Neo-Nazi Rune locked away, but when their cameras were manually shut off from the inside and she was executed without any willing witnesses, the PRT saw fit to tell no one. When Hookwolf's body was melted around itself they didn't make a statement on it. In fact, if it wasn't for people's camera phones we wouldn't know about it at all.

"And now, the PRT is turning criminals and murderers into heroes. Tomorrow the PRT was going to announce four new Wards currently know by their villain names Ergo, Biohazard, Grue, and Regent. Between these four they have multiple accounts of theft, assault, organ theft, and property damage. And that isn't mentioning Shadow Stalker who actually killed a person just one day before she was announced as a Ward! All of which is documented here." Clay waved his hand and photos of some official documents appeared on the screen.

"This is the PRT that pretends to protect you. The PRT that lets villains go, covers up facts of their incompetence, hires killers, and doesn't mention it to the public even in the smallest sense. But of course, you all already knew that. After all, Brockton Bay's rising star said it herself." The screen cut the footage of the Nova standing before a crowd of news crews.

"I am stating as fact that the PRT is incompetent. They write their own press releases and actively have tried to make these people seem less of a threat than they were. These Workers, these conspirators, killed dozens of Merchants and melted Hookwolf's body around himself. But try to find where they said that in their press release because they never did. Because the PRT's business isn't about making you safe from threats, not even large ones like this. It is about making people feel safe. But feelings don't change facts."

The screen cut back to Clay, a smug grin on his face.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." He said. Suddenly, he stood up and leaned across the table, putting his full weight into to convey a large amount of intensity.

"For the last twenty going on thirty years it has always been, 'Humans, Lung is here! Run and hide.' 'Humans, The Empire is here! Run and hide.' 'Humans, the Slaughterhouse Nine is here! Run and hide.' 'Humans, the Endbringers are here! Run and hide.' 'Humans, the Nilbog is here! RUN AND HIDE!' Well? We. Are. Tired. Of. Hiding."

"We humans killed Hookwolf! We killed Krieg! We killed Skidmark and Mush! And when the villains of the city come after us today, we will kill a dozen more! Already we have done more to clean this city of the filth that has abused and poisoned it in the few decades than the PRT ever has and ever will. Today, we normal, everyday humans, will take out some of the worst parahumans in the world

"So if you are a normal human that is tired of getting punted around by parahuman big shots, if you are tired of your homes and business getting wrecked because villains that keep going free, if you are sick of getting forgotten by parahumans that are too important to consider you, then rise up! We are The Sentient, and we are human! We wear no masks, we play no games, and we won't suffer any longer.

"... And this is a message for Brockton Bay's PRT Director Piggot. You know as well as we do that united your parahumans stand a threat, but uniting parahumans is a task in and of itself. You know that a single seed of doubt is enough to tear apart any bonds parahumans make. So if you send the so-called 'guardians' of Brockton Bay to stop us know they will fail. That everything you built will be torn down. We will divide you, and you will never be able to recover. That is our warning to you Director Piggot. Do not take it lightly."

Max Ander's grip on the edges of his desk turned white as the video continued. As soon as it finished he stood up in his chair angrily.

"Is there something wrong sir?" Max looked up to see his assistant stand in the doorway innocently, his head cocked to the side as he waited for a response.

"Nothing," Max answered. "I'm leaving the office, tell my secretary to hold my calls. I have things to take care of."

The assistant hesitated for a moment before reaching behind him.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, sir." The assistant said as he drew out a pistol and pointed it at him.

Two things happened at once, his former assistant pulled the trigger and Max caused blades to sprout out of the gun.

His former assistant hit the floor as blades shot through his feet. Max looked down and saw blood welling up from where a bullet struck his thigh. He hit the floor as he felt the pain of it shoot through him the moment he noticed it.

"Mr. Anders?" A woman called, running into the room. "Are you alright? I heard-"

"Get out!" Max shouted through gritted teeth.

"Sir? You're bleeding! Let me call the-"

"I said get out!" He shouted again, throwing a stapler from off his desk at her. She scampered out without another word. Max out a shuddering breath and checked his wound again. Putting his hand back on it, and struggled to his feet, his side screaming in pain as he did so.

"Who sent you?" Max asked, making more blades around his bleeding assistant.

"I don't know, I don't know!" He screamed. "They approached me anonymously, offered me half a million dollars. I don't know who they are!"

Max took a deep breath and resisted the urge to kill the man at that moment. He had work to do without all the paperwork included in that. That was, if he still was in a position to do paperwork at the end of the day.

***

Max Clay propped his feet up on the desk and listened to the sound of fighting coming from the other end of the phone and one of the Industry communication leaders spoke to him. Apparently, a certain Thinker found his communication hub and they were in the process of combating them.

"With Lung and Oni Lee away we've been able to loot most of the ABB's warehouses with our inside men."

"Good," Max said with a nod. "That's at least one thing going off without a hitch. And what of The Merchants? I was under the impression we eviscerated them, why are they still on the field?"

"They have new capes and faux soldiers on PCP or something. Brutes and Blasters that we're having a hard time understanding the powers of. They appear to-" The single cut off suddenly, apparently the other cell phone getting destroyed. Max rolled his eyes and hung up, tossing his phone on the desk again.

"Oh no," Max said dryly to no one in particular. "I care sooooooo much."

The phone rang again and he picked it up again with about the same enthusiasm.

"'Ello?" He asked.

"Sir, they're here."

"Oh good," Max said, rising up out of his chair and grabbing the papers he had written before. "Who is it?"

"Its… Nova sir."

"Oh?" Max said. "Now that is interesting. Hold her off for a bit." He hung up the phone before the foot soldier could respond. Max tore up the other speeches and grabbed a fresh piece of paper, writing 'Nova' at the top of it. He put the pen to the first line and paused. Slowly a smile spread across his face.

He walked out of the office with only one word written on the paper.

'Improvise'.