Sitting upon his throne of information, Apex’s right hand man rested his eyes in his secret lair. The air was musty with smells of hay and bird remains, all clever camouflage to protect the most important asset in HUE. So crucial to keep under wraps that not even the front desk were aware of his existence, despite deployment information almost always coming in from him. They assumed Apex relayed incidents while on patrol. But the all seeing eyes came from elsewhere.

  Chester, the Chickenero.

  By his own calculations, the second most powerful Awakened man alive after Apex. And he was a man with attention to details.

  “Bok!”

  Chester sat up sharply, looking seriously at the troops in front of him. A pair of chickens, both with tiny cameras tied under the feathers on their necks. One of them was preening himself under its wing while the other pecked the ground absentmindedly.

  “At ease, soldiers,” Chester commanded. “Field report?”

  The first chicken looked up to Chester, its eyes unfocused. It cocked its head at him, then went to preen under the other wing. The second chicken looked up from pecking nothing.

  “Bok.”

  “What? No. Are you certain?”

  “Bok.”

  Chester leaned back in thought, perturbed. “Well, I’m sure Magnus had his reasons. But I would think they would want the help of as many allies as they could get while up against Pete the Plenty. I’m sorry about your son, Cluckles.”

  Cluckles continued to preen. Clearly deep in mourning. Covering his eyes, Chester held back tears.

  “Is there anything else to report?”

  The chickens stood expectantly, tilting their heads toward him simultaneously.

  “Oh, right.” Chester tossed them a small handful of chicken feed.

  They swarmed it, shoving at one another for the best spot to peck from. Chester allowed them to feed, especially when Cluckles needed things to take his mind off the recent death of another good chicken.

  Squakwell glanced up between pecks. “Bok.”

  “What?” Chester jumped up from his throne of hay. “You should have led with that! That’s like… Half the reason we’re out there!”

  Squakwell had nothing to say, pecking for more food. Telltale signs of wanting to avoid eye contact. He must have been mortified to be reprimanded so badly by his leader.

  Rapidly, Chester pulled his pager and typed in a code as fast as he could. He had already proven his worth several times over by having chickens track incidents across the city, but this might be the big one to get Chester his own corner office in HUE on the tenth floor. Whenever they got around to making offices and more floors, obviously. A better hideout would be a nice first step in the meantime.

  “Bok!”

  Another voice caught his attention, reporting for duty faster than ever. None other than Bach, his most esteemed soldier. Bach stood at attention and saluted him with a wing.

  “Bach, I need you to go tell Apex that we found the Underground hideout! I just sent you the coordinates. This is way too important to send over airwaves like regular jobs so I need you to tell him in person. They’re gonna need all the backup they can get, so take all the troops you can find! Leave no one behind! I’m gonna run the show from our hideout, making sure we take as few casualties as possible!”

  “Bok!” Bach saluted him again, then squealed loudly.

  Dozens of chickens appeared from the corners of the narrow hideout, rushing in to line up behind Bach. The lead chicken let out a few instructory clucks, and the rest replied with their own uncoordinated bird noises and wing flaps. Then the entire squad turned to Chester.

  “Oh, right.” He threw a large handful of bird feed at them. They hounded it, eating their fill before the most harrowing battle they would ever participate in arrived. “Good luck out there, troops. I’ll be right there with you.”

  Quickly wiping bits of chicken feed off his hand on his pant leg, Chester scrolled through his phone to scan the other chickens. Dozens of camera feeds fed into his screen, multiple angles of all districts in Hammerton. Most of them were quick shots of troops pecking the ground or nibbling under wings, but Chester knew the vigilant eyes of the chicken missed nothing. They even had built-in steady cams, so video quality was always crystal clear.

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  Unfortunately, he didn’t have headphones set up with each field troop, so he would have to rely on Bach to collect everyone before the mission began. It was also likely that Bach was the only soldier who would understand orders when out on the field. The other chickens would aimlessly wonder where the noise came from and get back to whatever they were doing. Chester’s power was difficult to send at any distances, and Bach was the only one who could understand how a pager operated.

  The feeding frenzy slowly quieted down and Bach clucked loudly at the battalion and began marching away, off to inform Apex of the news. In slanted, crooked rows, the other troops tripped and stumbled behind, walking to their own mysterious beats.

  The army summoned a wave of determination in Chester’s heart. The most powerful squad from one of the most powerful Awakened. There would be no stopping those soldiers, no matter the odds. And he’d have video recordings on tons of different angles. He wondered if people at HUE ever considered posting their exploits online. No way, too unique an idea. And who was capturing video in the middle of a battle like Chester’s troops?

  Once left on his own in the hideout, Chester lounged on his pile of hay and scrolled through different video feeds, making sure he was still on top of his duties for regular deployments. Every screen, a chicken. And every chicken, a story.

  There was a cat stuck in a tree again, so he sent the ping to the database that the front desk scanned for potential jobs. A kid was crying at a park because the ice cream man didn’t have a flavor called “Tasty.” Sent. A fire on third street? Sent. Someone was in a shouting match telling someone else that Anvil Latreen was overrated. Sent again.

  Chester’s watchful eyes made sure there was never a lack of coverage of the city’s issues for HUE members to resolve. They assumed that victims submitted their own issues online, but Chester filled the vast majority of inquiries. Any and all issues were submitted, allowing for Naomi and the front desk to determine what the most urgent cases were and what was out of jurisdiction.

  A corner of his screen shook uncharacteristically. Even when shifting around, the chickens were usually so smooth. But this was jumbled. Rushed. Panicked? The soldier was running back to base, flapping its wings to remain upright as it charged back. Chester stood up suddenly, a chill in his spine. Was his soldier being chased? Was his hideout about to be exposed?

  A flap in the back of his rusty, abandoned school bus in the south of Indus popped open, a chicken rushing inside. Chester waited in bated breath for an assailant to chase after her. When nothing came, Chester looked down sharply at the newcomer.

  “Wingerella? You didn’t hear the proclamation by Bach? You need to be out there supporting the front lines in the Underground!”

  “Bok!”

  Chester blinked in shock, shaking his head slightly.

  “Now? Seriously?”

  “Bok!”

  “We just found out where the Underground was! You’re telling me there’s a completely separate lair for the scientist?”

  “Bok.”

  Mind racing, Chester paced in his cramped headquarters, kicking aside bedding plucked out of bus seats. Murmuring and shaking his head through different plans, Chester looked to Wingerella for ideas. She tapped the floor.

  “Oh, right.” Chester tossed her a handful of feed. Scratching his head, he continued to think through the conundrum.

  “Do you have any ideas? We can’t send a text message. I’m pretty sure he has an eye on everything that gets sent through cellular towers in Hammerton. One wrong keyword and he’ll know we’re coming!”

  Wingerella scratched at the floor.

  “Maybe I have to go in person. But that would destroy my anonymity! It could compromise the entire organization!”

  Wingerella looked up from the dwindling pile of food. “Bok.”

  “Well, yeah, but just because they don’t think I need to be anonymous doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be! It’s much smarter to keep me out of the eyes of the prying public. They must already be wondering how HUE gets to situations on time, and without me, we’re dead in the water!”

  “Bok.” Wingerella flapped her wings.

  “Well… No. But just because my network hasn’t picked up anyone wondering about our deployments doesn’t mean they aren’t wondering in secret!” Chester pointed at her.

  “Bok.”

  “Because this hideout is way better than some cramped dorms in HUE! I get to be my own man! Plus, they had restrictions on where chickens could poop. They said that I would have to put you in a chicken coop out behind headquarters. Can you imagine?” Chester gestured to the splendor of the torn bus seats and random piles of hay covered in bird remains. “I want you all to be free.”

  Wingerella preened under a wing. “Bok.”

  Chester blinked in astonishment, placing a hand on his chin. “Hmmm, sending you in because you have the memory and know-how to get through the changing labyrinth? You think you can accurately guide the HUE members to confront Boli? That sounds risky. Plus, that’s one less troop at the battle of the Underground!”

  “Bok.”

  “Well, when you’re right, you’re right. I guess you’ll have to go out there and convince them. I’ll hang back and monitor the situation from above.” Chester raised his phone.

  “Bok.” Was that sarcasm?

  “Scared? Ha! No! I don’t stay out here in fear! I’m one of the strongest guys around!” Chester forced a laugh at the absurdity of her claim! “Ambushes and attacks on HUE members mean literally nothing to me. In fact, it’s weird that you would bring up fear, it’s so far out of mind for me. I could be out on the front lines if I really wanted to be. I’m just really useful where I am. HUE would be losing all the deployments without me! Now hurry up and go tell HUE where Boli and his lair are located!”

  Wingerella clucked knowingly, then turned and left.