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Marasi sits up in the cab of her truck and pulls off the hat she had used to keep her face hidden. Bilming city constables. Wonderful. She glances at Moonlight in the driver's seat, who shrugs that she had no idea this was coming. At least the locals are doing the right thing: the Sequence and his deputy are already ringed by twenty constables with drawn weapons, while the rest of the Bilming uniforms move through the warehouse rounding up thugs who have sensibly chosen not to fight a force outnumbering them.

Marasi kicks open her door and drops down. Half a dozen weapons swing onto her at once. She raises her hands and shouts her credentials — Elendel Constabulary, Special Detective Marasi Colms — and her own people start to climb hesitantly out of the backs of trucks behind her, flashing badges. A tall, short-blond-haired woman in a stiff Bilming uniform shoulders through the crowd: Captain Blantach, whom Marasi met the year before at an intercity training event. Blantach takes her in, sighs, palm to forehead — *you're running a sting inside my city.*

Marasi fishes for the authorisations: jurisdiction across the entire Basin, cleared by Constable-General Reddi under the governor. Blantach waves the paperwork off — *rusting Elenders*, of course they'd run an operation in her city without so much as a note. Marasi tries to defuse: politicians fight, but the two of them are conners, and conners protect cities. Blantach eyes her and allows, *if we do it on my terms*.

Marasi takes the opening to put a piece of the cosmic picture in front of her: the thing she is hunting goes deep, has tendrils in every part of society, and almost certainly owns members of Blantach's own leadership. *That's why I couldn't warn you we were coming. Most of my own government doesn't know.* She tracks the political point home — the group she is hunting is deliberately stoking war between Elendel and the Outer Cities, and any move toward them invites elements in both governments to shut the move down.

Blantach waves off an aide and frowns. There *had* been more red tape than usual on this raid. Then why, Marasi presses, did her superiors let it go forward at all? Because she was determined, Blantach says — and Marasi silently rejects that answer. If the Set had wanted the raid stopped, it would have been stopped. The implication crystallises: the smuggled cargo is going to its destination either way. A *seized* shipment, quietly redirected by the right corrupt judges and prosecutors, gets the same weapons to the same Bilming men without exposing the Set's grip on the city. The Sequence being arrested was always part of the plan; he expected to be politely released.

She turns back to the man, who is bound and pretending calm — refined look, stylish suit, thick eyebrows, prominent lips. He sees her. He cocks his head, frowns, then breaks into a broad, almost excited smile and physically strains against the constables holding him, eyes locked on her. He flexes, rolls his neck.

*Rusts.* Marasi puts it together too late. What better way to spark exactly the controversy the Set wants than to give Bilming a warehouse full of dead local constables and a column of Elendel uniforms standing in the middle of it? She grabs Blantach's arm — *we have to sedate that man.* Blantach protests there are no Metalborn in this group, *I have it on good authority.*

The Sequence chooses that instant to release an Allomantic Push of monstrous strength.