Monet almost fainted when she got the call right in the middle of welcoming a new batch of recruits to start their path to becoming a member of the Royden Hive.

She had Devin take over while she rushed out the tattoo parlor, shoved her way into her car, and rocketed towards her brother-in-law's house, praying loudly along the way that the news she had received simply wasn't true.

She came to a sudden halt outside Dex's house. Ambulances and media were surrounding the place. Police tape wrapped around the property to keep people from the scene of utter carnage. Bodies laid outlined in chalk around the floor. Body bags were being loaded to a truck like cargo.

She was sleepwalking at this point. There was no way this could be anything other than a nightmare. She pushed passed the journalists clamoring at her for answers. The yellow tape was lifted for her by two officers who stood motionless with their heads down. She pushed open the front door and found homicide detectives photographing the entire place like the family would on Christmas day. She found the dining room, once garnished with such fine porcelain plates used for Thanksgiving, were now shattered on the ground. The table rested on its side and as Monet came closer towards it, she peeked over the border it divided between chaos and misery.

There laid her nephew, his throat slashed, dried blood covering his tie and dress shirt, his pupils dangling in death's grip.

Monet held her hand to her mouth. She tried fighting back those pesky tears. Tears made her look weak. But she couldn't help feeling debilitated after seeing the boy she cared about most slaughtered.

What was the point of being a leader of a revolutionary organization if she couldn't even use it to protect the person she cared about most? She made a promise after her sister's murder that no one else in her family would suffer. She made a promise to her sister that if anything were to happen to her, her baby boy would be safe by her side.

She couldn't keep those promises.

A couple of men came and lifted Ash into a body bag. Monet didn't say a word but stopped them as she knelt by Ash's sweet face. She stroked his hair and made a promise she would take to her grave. "I'll end them all. Starting with the girl who got you into this."

"We have a pulse," Monet heard a medic shout. She turned around to find her brother-in-law not far away. It was as if she hadn't even noticed he was there. She took to his side, watching as his eyes fluttered open, his mouth leaking with blood, his chest oozing with it.

He fought the pain to turn his head around the room and take in the scene. His eyes immediately locked onto his son.

It was like watching Dex die a second time. He fell backwards breathing rapidly. The medics tried to calm him down and stabilize him.

But he kept on muttering. "She promised me..."

As if realizing that Monet was standing there for the first time, his eyes locked onto hers. "Monet..." he huffed. "Find her."

Monet nodded and reached down towards her phone. She pulled up a secure application that scanned her iris to confirm it was her. Then she typed in her target's name.

A map of the world opened up. Each second it zeroed in on a signal blinking in Africa, west Africa, Nigeria...

Lagos.

It looked like it was time for the Locusts to spread to Nigeria.

***

To the world, Dex Dayton, the progressive mayor from the city of Chicago, was dead. Assassinated in his home, his short career in politics was over.

Dex hated it. He worked hard to secure his position as mayor of the wonderful city of Chicago, only to have it stolen from him not even half-way through his term. He could have made a comeback, but he knew if he showed his face in public again, his old friend Pascal would come back for him to finish the job.

Dex's life had been spared as he lay in a hospital bed with few visitors. His family was gone. His sister-in-law was out hunting down the child who put him there. Even though the girl had saved his life, he would have gladly given it for his son to live. Why did she let him die, or worse, did she kill him too?

Dex was sure of it. She had only saved Ash's life in stage four just to keep her cover. She was after his organization all along.

His organization...at least he had that. As Swarmmaster he would have to take a page out of his old friend's playbook. He will have to enact change from outside rather than from within.

But how could he match the sheer power Pascal had? He had earned his new name: Savage. He tore through his guards like they were bowling pins, knocking down one after the other collectively.

Dex knew what he saw. Savage was teleporting. Since when could humans do that? What did his billions and billions of dollars buy him in order to achieve such power?

Knock-knock.

Dex shifted in his seat. His heart sped up. Savage was here to finish him off. He reached towards his side looking for a weapon that didn't exist.

"Hello Mr. Dayton," a voice spilled over from his left side. It wasn't the voice of Savage. This voice sounded slippery, as if the man fought to hide a lisp.

Dex turned over to his side. He found a stranger dressed in a white tux. He wore diamond cufflinks and had an avalanche of snow-white hair that cascaded down his back. His lips were cherry red, his face spotted with wrinkles, and he wore a ceremonial white cape with the symbol of a golden eagle on the back that looked like it belonged to a royal family.

Dex had met with many leaders: community leaders, governors, and world leaders, but he had no clue who this person was nor where he had come from.

"It's tragic what happened to your son Ashton."

Dex wanted no part of him. "Did Savage send you to finish me off?"

The stranger smiled, showing white teeth and pointed canines. He opened his arms. "Come now Dex, why would I dress like this to murder you? Do you know how difficult it is to get human blood off of white clothes?"

Dex sat back in his bed. The way he added that adjective for blood as if it was necessary.

"Who are you?"

"I go by many names, but the nicer humans simply call me The Diplomat."

Dex had his share of diplomats as well approach him. Few knocked on his door and then let themselves in by teleporting into the room.

Teleporting...

"It was you?" Dex pointed at him. "You have something to do with Savage's power?"

The Diplomat shrugged his shoulders. "I don't disclose treaties I've made with other clients. I'm here to talk about how you can avenge your son."

"And why do you care?" Dex asked. "If you gave Savage his power, then you are responsible for killing my son also."

"Careful now," The Diplomat spoke. "Otherwise, you won't be able to level the playing field. After all, you too were born with a tactful skill that allowed you to rise through the ranks of government, even if you fail to see it."

Dex knew what he was talking about. He would read the thoughts of a person just by evaluating their expressions, their posture, their eye contact.

But when he looked in this man's dark eyes, he saw nothing. Much like reading Savage, this man knew how to block out those from entering into his mind.

"For years you have been reading the minds of your fellow people. You had to lean on persuasion, weeding out lies, showing them your way."

The Diplomat reached into his pocket and pulled out an odd fruit. It was the shape of an apple but had the rough skin of a pineapple and it rested on a vine.

"Take this," The Diplomat offered. "Augment your skills. Do not simply read minds but manipulate them."

The Diplomat rested the fruit in Dex's hands. Dex stared at it wondering how one would even use this.

"Eat it," The Diplomat spoke. "And level the playing field."

Dex hesitated. "What's the catch?" He knew if this fruit didn't kill him, and if by chance it did grant him power, there must be a way to pay for such strength.

The Diplomat turned around and started to wilt into dead leaves that were slowly being shattered by the wind. "When The Master calls in a favor, don't hesitate to offer your loyalty."

And as The Diplomat's outfit disappeared, Dex could've sworn he saw a squiggly tail with an arrowhead at the tip erode to dirt and get swept away by the breeze.

Dex was left wondering if he had just been having a weird dream, but no matter how long he closed his eyes he was still holding the fruit.

Level the playing field.

Dex will do just that.