Desiree got word that Michael and Asme had just crossed the Blank into Atlantis. She relayed this to Foom. Foom roused himself head to toe, inside and out, and let the game begin.

Buford was seated. His eyes went from Milo to Ramses, both of whom sat watchful in front of him, silent. He said nothing. In fiction the arch nemesis would taunt a hero, but in real life, with life being the key word because Buford had no plans to die, ever, Milo could punch a hole straight through Buford’s ribcage if he wanted.

He knew what they were thinking. “We should kill him.” How could they not? Even if there were still clones out there they had the real Buford, and for them that was practically end game in itself. He knew his boys.

The palpable buildup of animosity and chi lent a static to the cabin that clogged ears. Buford couldn’t hear anything above decks, not the water nor wind. The space had the feel of an isolation chamber.

Outside of thwarting Milo at the Atlantidean facility he hadn’t been this close to both of them in years. Not where he could see the nick of a scar on Ramses’ neck from where the boy had first fought his brother using throwing stars, or this deeply into Milo’s eyes. Where his brother’s might always have been slightly melancholic, Milo’s eyes were damning, constantly seeing the hells Dante described and blaming the human world for them.

They traveled fast, away from Leviathan, away from Nonrich, back to Atlantidean soil and justice.

Justice was a foolish, dangerous concept, Buford thought; Nothing the human mind was equipped to toy with.

He felt the frisson of the ship entering the Blank. He hadn’t been given a breach suit in case of emergency. Drowning, Milo had said, was acceptable.

He thought about the Mount and of how succumbing to that last personal hubris may not have been the most prudent of acts. But if one can’t be the god of all outcomes, Buford thought, planning as he stared into Milo’s eyes, you might as well give up.

The Battle Ready Bastards immediately surrounded Buford upon docking. Shig’s forces, in turn, surrounded everyone, with eyes and sensors on land and in the sky. Shig himself even carried a weapon, as did his two assistants, and he looked very much as if he wished to use it.

“I want him underneath something, Shig. Buried. Untouchable,” said Milo.

“Understood.”

“Raffic?” said Milo.

The Mad Buddha stepped forward, a dwarf compared to the angels.

“You got this?” said Milo.

“I got this.”

“Ram?” said Milo.

Ramses nodded, which was all Milo needed. Their father was a good man. A smart man. And there was no way he thought they would leave him to those waters alone.

“Where’re Asme and Michael?” asked Ramses.

“Very safe. Ele and Fiona are with them,” said Shig.

“Do you have the Blank fully monitored now?” asked Milo.

“Yes.”

“Anybody besides us comes through blow ‘em the fuck to hell.”