The rest of the Paragons had arrived—scouring the empty park and trying to make sense of the remains of the battle they had missed.

Their show of force would terrify and delight the frightened tourists peeking out the nearby hotel windows, watching the scene below. Seeing the city's greatest heroes in action would be something wonderful to tell the people back home, but it was meaningless—the real threat had already escaped.

The hot air blasting out from the vent had kept him warm while he watched the tragedy through a pair of opera glasses he had modified so that they could be strapped to his head. He had seen it all: the Automaton being torn apart under the arm of Liberty, the arrival of Sarah Stanton, her confrontation with her father.

But he couldn't interfere. There were still too many questions left unanswered for him to betray Eschaton now.

The only moment that had truly pulled at his conscience was when he had witnessed Lord Eschaton ripping the heart out of the mechanical man. Anubis had failed to stop him achieving the single greatest step in his plan, and it had taken all of his willpower not leap down and confront the madman then and there.

And even if he could have saved the clockwork man, it would have made no actual difference. The Paragons were still doomed by their own hubris, and whatever the Automaton was, he was not human.

From his rooftop vantage point he watched the Paragons frantically scurrying around—angry, but without purpose. The Industrialist screamed loudly enough that Anubis could hear his cries as the harpoon was pulled from his arm.

Where there had once been seven Paragons, now only four remained, one of them confined to a wheelchair…

Anubis had already made one attempt to involve himself with their affairs. The end result had been the death of the Sleuth. Giving the old man the information he had wanted had ultimately simply been another futile action piled on top of all the others that he had already made. He would need to be more careful in the future.

Watching the heroes running through the streets helpless and confused only confirmed what Anubis had decided on the day that Sir Darby died; if there was any hope that he would be able to put a stop to Lord Eschaton's plans, he must work alone. He could only betray the villain once, and he would need to be sure he could destroy him.

But there was also the girl. “She has fire,” he whispered to himself. Her passion was still undiminished by cynicism. It would be worth keeping an eye on her.

He had noted the direction she took when she ran off into the darkness of the city. She had left her father and the Paragons behind. It would be worth seeing where she would go…

Slipping his mask back over his head, Anubis hooked the end of his staff onto the edge of the rooftop, and lowered himself down on metal wire toward the streets below.