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THU FEB 24

The klaxons blared as I stared out into my dark bedroom. My first thought, as anyone's, was hoping it wasn't here. My second was feeling terrible for wishing them on someone else. My rational mind tamped that down, and left me with a firm resolve. Even if it was here, I wasn't weak anymore. I wasn't helpless. I could fight.

I was already getting dressed when I recognized that the pattern of the sirens was for somewhere else. I kept throwing things on, and tore open my door. Dad was there, standing in his. He was leaning on the frame, still bleary-eyed even as wide as they were, and hadn't bothered changing out of his flannel pants or putting on a shirt.

"Taylor?" He muttered, confused. Then his heart stopped, his veins constricted in terror, and the organ flared back to rapid life. "No. Taylor, no."

"I have to help, dad." I said, barely audible over the noise.

He stumbled out of his doorway and made to wrap his arms around me, keep me here physically if he had to, but I held him off. With my strength, it was so easy I couldn't even justify calling it grappling. "Taylor, no." He moaned, his voice cracking.

"Dad, I'm not fighting!" I yelled, cutting him off. "I'm not stupid, I'm not suicidal. I'm not going to fight them." I could see my words were finally getting through and sinking in, leaving him still worked up, primed to fight, but confused. "But they break cities, dad. I can move mountains and see people under rubble. If I don't go, I'm always going to wonder how many people died because I wasn't there to save them."

"You're not fighting?" He muttered, tasting the words. His hands dropped and I let them go. He was staring at me, looking for any hint of falsehood in my words. "You'll be safe?"

"Yes, dad." I implored him to understand. The sirens finally stopped, leaving the world sounding hollow and quiet.

"Promise me." The words spilled out rapid and weak. "Swear it, swear you're coming back, Little Owl." This time when he tried to hug me, I let him. He kept muttering the words into my hair as I held him tightly. Neither of us were very religious, but the Endbringers had a way of changing minds about that. Any little comfort was welcome, and the words sounded like little prayers for my safety.

"I promise, dad. Just search and rescue. Fixing enough that they can handle the rest. I promise."

He pulled away, staring into my eyes again, and nodded. "I'm coming with you." It was nice that he wasn't simpering anymore, but this really wasn't the thing to regrow your spine about...

"Dad, I can run to the PRT building, dodging the traffic and being safer for it, in three minutes. One of those is because I'll probably get lost with how dark it is." My joke didn't do much to lighten the mood, but it wasn't completely ineffective.

"But..." Dad started, cut off by the house phone going off. We both glanced at the handset on his desk, in his room. Probably Gram calling to tell me not to go, too. I could tell Dad was considering picking up, seeing if both of them could talk me down, but a small, dark current of indignation held him back. He didn't want to agree with Gram on anything, but he would if it was for me.

I pounced while he was still hesitating. "Dad, New Wave helps out at these things, but they always wait until the... fight... is over." I didn't like calling it that, but all the other words for what happened at Endbringer fights weren't going to do me any favors convincing him. "I'll call Amy and meet up with them. I'll be fine, dad. I promise."

He stared at me, as the phone kept ringing. I saw the tension slowly leave him, could tell when he folded. He raised his arms slightly, and I came in for a hug. "Go do your hero thing." He muttered into my hair.

I nodded, and finished getting ready while he wandered over to the phone. I wanted to be gone before he got the chance to change his mind, so I quickly grabbed my masks and shoes, running down the stairs and out the door, barely pausing to lock it behind me. After that I started walking, fishing out my phone. It was a little after 1AM I noticed, as I navigated through to send Amy a text. 'I'm going with you. Meet when/where?' That sent, I dialed a number, listening to it ring as I watched for a good spot to mask up.

I felt a little bad about lying to dad about what I was doing, since I wasn't going straight to the PRT. If I was going to do this, it was going to be my big debut as a nationwide- or worldwide, depending on where the attack was- hero. I needed to make a good first impression. That meant I needed my costume. I was maybe halfway to Parian's shop when she answered, having found a decent spot to fumble my masks on with one-and-a-half hands given my phone, and then starting to run after that. I slowed down so the wind wouldn't ruin the call.

"Yes?" She grumbled, probably not at all happy that I'd been on something like the third call to her phone when she picked up.

"It's Terraform. I'm sorry to call so early, but I need my costume. Is it ready?" I tried to keep the huffing out of my voice, having run without airbending help so I could still hear if she picked up.

"What? No!" She spat. "I'm not going to let you run off and kill yourself-"

Oh goddammit, it was just the argument with dad all over again. I cut her off. "I'm not going to the fight, I'm doing search and rescue afterward. I want to look good doing it, and figured the costume would be more knife and whatever-else resistant than my hoodie." There was silence on the other line, so I wasn't sure if she was chewing on it, or disregarding me. "If you really want me to not make it to the fight, you should probably try to stall me by helping me get my costume ready. Please?" Still silence. "I'll owe you one?"

She grumbled out a long sigh after that. "Fine. I have one that's almost done..."

"Great!" I chirped happily. "I'm almost at your shop. Meet me there in a couple minutes?"

She stuttered out an affirmation, and I shut off the call. It was probably rude of me to assume she lived in the third floor loft over her shop, but what else would she do with the living space? It's not like anyone would go after her there, knowing the rest of the capes would instantly come crashing down on someone breaking the rules that openly.

Without having to worry about my phone, I ate the distance to her shop in a little over a minute, only going just slow enough to be sure I could keep my bearings in the dark. Sure enough, I could sense her already present, still fitting herself into her cape getup as I approached. I decided to let her have the time, and checked my phone for messages from Amy.

The first was what I'd expected, her going off on a 'don't fight Endbringers you stupid bitch' rant, followed a little later by the actually helpful information that they weren't expecting a teleport for at least another hour. A bit confused, I asked her why it would take that long. Her response about a minute later being 'Lots of teams, only so many teleporters, only a couple capes in Brockton that'd go to a Ziz fight, so we're bottom of the priority list.' which... I guess made sense. Armsmaster was the big name of the Brockton Protectorate, but he was a Tinker. Even I knew you didn't throw Tinkers at the Simurgh. Going down the list, the only flier was Dauntless, so everyone else would only be useful for emergency response and S&R, assuming they'd let themselves get anywhere near the Simurgh in the first place.

I sighed at that maudlin thought, hoping the city was getting enough support to still be there when we showed up, and sent Amy another text. This one asking her to keep me updated if anything changed. Figuring I'd given her the few minutes I'd promised, I knocked on the door to Parian's shop, and waited for her to let me in.

I was standing with my back to the door, keeping an 'eye' on the street, so I didn't appear to see her checking through the glass and huffing in irritation at me. I mean, I was keeping her up, when I'm sure she would've gone right back to bed after the sirens, had I not called. I did kind of deserve a grumping at.

The door clicked unlocked and opened, and I turned to see her holding her hand out to the partially-lit store. "Well, come on, then." She spoke shortly, and I complied.

She locked the door behind me, and turned back my way. "Thank you for helping me." I said, before she could snap at me. "I'm sorry for keeping you up, but this is important to me."

I could tell she was glaring, behind her mask, but the tumult of her mood had petered off with my apology. "One's image is rather important, yes." She kept up her glare for a moment, before she sighed. I'd just stood there looking appropriately contrite, deliberately ignoring the dark brown hair I could see poking out from under her wig, and other little things resulting from her rush to 'cape up'. "Come on."

She led me upstairs, to her work room, and had me sit while she pulled a trio of mannequins out of storage. My costumes looked... really good, actually. They had a neat military professional look to them, despite the pattern and colors not really fitting any particular national identity I could think of, which would be nice to avoid stepping on any toes. Parian glanced at the tags on them as they floated themselves up for ease of access, then took a few careful looks at the different suits, sliding two of them back to sit along the wall. "This is the closest to done. I was going to finish them over the weekend, including the boots and gloves, which I haven't started on yet." Large needles and thick thread started floating around her, as she started finishing the hem of the skirt, pins I hadn't noticed floating out of the costume as she got to them. "If you're set on going, you'll have to do without them."

"That's fine." I said, glancing down at the costume's bare trousers. I could deal with using my regular fake shoes this time. They were nearly due for replacing, anyway- Dad was right when he said they wouldn't last as long as normal shoes. "Do you have any paint? I could just color what I'm wearing..."

She glanced over, and shook her head. "Nothing that'd work right for that, no." She kept working after that, and I decided to cool my heels trying to meditate. "I'm surprised you're not chomping at the bit, from your call." She remarked a few minutes later.

I checked my phone, it wasn't quite 1:30 yet, and no updates from Amy. "I checked after I called, and someone said the teleporters wouldn't be by for an hour or so. I'd like to get there ASAP, sure, but I've got a little time." I said with a shrug.

Parian hummed, not seeming to slow or speed her work any. "I'll be done in... fifteen minutes, or so." She said, continuing to finish the hems. A couple minutes later, she moved on to finishing the stitching in the pants, and a few minutes after that, checked the zipper under the 'tabard' looking part of the coat, and started sewing some white clip-buttons into the hem, to help hide it. Then she double-checked they worked properly, tested several of the other seams along the coat, and stood back to her full height. "Done."

"Great!" I said, hopping up. "Do you mind helping me get it on?" I was already pulling my hoodie up as I asked that, not really caring that it dragged my slightly sweaty shirt up along with it, giving the woman an eyeful of my abs and sports bra. Her heartbeat and tension cues sparked upward, probably just my ceramic mask coming off in the bundle. I reached in and grabbed the thing, affixing it back over my domino mask and pulling my shirt back down. "Sorry about that." I said, causing her eyes to snap back up to mine. I started fiddling with my pants, only to stop and tilt my head at her. "Do those work as pants, or just over-coverings?"

She bit her lip behind her mask, glancing down at my legs, over to the mannequin, and back again. "They're... pants, yes."

I nodded, and continued shucking mine. Then I grabbed my wallet and phones to move over, kicking the hoodie and pants into a little pile by the chair I'd been sitting in. "Uhhm...?" I halfheartedly prompted, causing her to jump slightly and look up from my legs with her nerves thumping in her chest. She must not've done the shower room thing in school, I guessed.

"Right!" She said, focusing on the costume, undoing its buttons and zippers. It really was just a thick coat and pants, it seemed. I slipped into the pants first, so Parian would stop having to feel awkward. They were a little loose, but not enough that I'd need a belt. I stowed my phones and wallet, and let her feed my arms into the sleeves of the levitating coat. I fluffed my hair out from under it, and turned to look in the mirror. Something seemed... off. I looked good, and I could tell I'd look even better if I had an actual figure to fill the costume out a little, but something didn't quite click.

I grabbed at the wavy ruffles extending from my head. "My hair." The statement was low, and mildly horrified. I started pulling at it, trying to smooth it out and failing. I started trying to weave it into a braid, but I was out of practice, always leaving it down like mom's usually was since her death, and usually just having Emma braid it, before that. "It's too distinct." I half-moaned. I didn't want wearing mom's hair out to be a problem, but it was just like the glasses thing! I gave up on the braid, trying to pull it all into a bun like Gram's. She had less hair to bun up than I did, but managed to make it look pretty good with the hair that'd passed matrilineally to me. "How do buns work?" I huffed, a slight edge of hysteria starting to creep into my voice. "I'm going to be late if I take too much longer with this!"

"Here." Parian said, and I was slightly startled to realize I'd been tunnel-visioning to the point of treating her like just another mannequin in the room. One hand rested gently on my shoulder, and the other shooed my hands away from my hair, before settling on my crown. She slowly moved it down through my hair, a gentle caress that left tingles in its wake. As her fingers glided through my locks, they slowly untangled and straightened, and I realized she was using her power on it. The telekinesis pulled my hair- had it pulling itself- into order, at her will. By the time the gentle stroke of her fingertips reached my mid-back, I could already tell my hair was straighter than it'd ever been, since that's where it usually ended, with its usual curls. The tingling touch extended into the curve of my lower back, the hand lingering slightly as it fell lower. She drew it away, back to where I could see it in the mirror, and slowly curled it into a fist. I watched her wrist twirl and fingers clench, my hair cinching itself into a tight ball at the base of my skull. She inspected the work from a couple angles, then glanced over her kit of tools. A couple were floating where I could see them in the mirror, but more were outside my sight. It was slightly unnerving knowing there were things floating where I couldn't see or sense them, but the moment didn't last long before she pulled a pair of thin steel rods to herself. It took me longer than I liked to recognize them as knitting needles, which she pierced into my hair in a couple places. "There."

I reached up to lightly touch the needles, and my ball of hair. I was surprised at how far it'd compacted itself down. "Wow. Uhm, thanks?" I turned back to her, and her eyes drifted back up to my mask from admiring her handiwork.

"Can I go back to bed, now?" She asked in a drowsy monotone.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry." I glanced around for anything I might be forgetting, and spied my shed clothing. "Do you mind if I pick those up with the rest of the costume stuff?"

She shrugged and muttered, "Sure." I could tell she was tired, but it became especially apparent with how far she was slipping out of character.

I hopped down the stairs, rather eager to get moving, as well as let her have her night back. "Thanks again." I said as she came to unlock the door.

"Please don't make a habit of it." She drolled, motioning to the empty street.

I gingerly stepped past her, giving a small wave and repeating, "I mean it, thank you so much."

She hesitated, biting her lips again, feeling conflicted and wary. "Hey, about the hair thing..." I hummed affirmatively. "...don't tell anyone about that?"

I chuckled softly. "I... don't know too much about what all goes into the Endbringer truce, but I'm pretty sure secrets are in there somewhere." I shrugged. "I wouldn't say anything anyway, but... I figured you'd trust that more."

She nodded, feeling a little more relieved at my words. Then she lifted her hand in an aborted wave of her own, and slid the door shut. I heard the lock click, and felt her heave out a sigh. She glanced around the door to check on me through the windows. I nodded and turned, realizing how awkward I must look just standing around. I started walking, then hopped to a jog, working my way up to a wind-boosted sprint towards the PRT building. The whole way I watched Parian trudge her way first to the lights to switch them back off, then upstairs to her bed, barely divesting herself of her mask, wig, and ruffles, before she collapsed back into bed.

---

There were a pair of PRT troopers manning the door when I skidded to a halt on the sidewalk outside the PRT building. "Hey, am I late? Did I get here in time?"

The agents looked to each other, then one of them motioned inside, which I took to mean that I'd made it. I hopped up the stairs and strolled into the main lobby, only to stop dead, staring at the gathered capes. New Wave and a boy in armor to one side, most of them drinking coffee to wake up, the boy I recognized as Shielder instead sipping at one of those godawful energy drinks Greg swore by. That was fine.

It was the swarm of Nazis on the other side of the room that had me pause.

It looked like they had nearly their entire roster here. The only ones I recognized to be missing were Purity, Crusader, and that one gasmasked 'blitzkrieg' or whatever. I knew I should know them all by sight, this far into my career... but it just never came up. I decided I should change that, the next chance I got.

I knew Kaiser. Everyone knew him. He was flanked by the Twins, with the rest of his capes to the side of them closer to me, and on the other stood Miss Militia a good few paces off. It felt slightly ironic that the hero standing closest to them was the only one here I knew to be non-white. If I had to guess from how tense she felt, she was keeping an eye on them. Opposite her were Hookwolf's bunch, him, Cricket, and Stormtiger. A little closer to me and slightly apart from the rest of the Empire stood Victor and Othala, very close to one another. Separated a ways off, but nearer to them than anyone else, Rune sat bundled in one of the lobby's chairs.

Their reactions varied quite a bit, most of the Empire capes started eyeing me, sizing up the new competition in their own ways. The big exceptions being Hookwolf and Othala, who didn't seem to care about me, and Rune, who felt nervous and conflicted all of a sudden. Maybe it had to do with our last fight? Miss Militia felt guardedly optimistic when she glanced my way, and the half of New Wave I hadn't yet met felt similar. Mark wasn't here, but the rest of the Dallons were. Carol seemed to recognize me, if the indignant frustration bubbling up under her natural wary mistrust was anything to go by. Vicky and the boy in red and gold armor were more curious than anything.

Amy, of course, recognized me instantly. She felt weary, tired. She didn't want to be here, but knew it was the right thing to do. She also didn't want me here, from the brief spike of worry and fear when she caught sight of me, alongside the mild surprise at my costume. I'd described it, but as the saying went, a few words rarely compared favorably to seeing something for yourself. This all simmered down into the frustrated apathy of those awoken far too early, tinged with small flares of jealousy. That confused me for a bit, until I remembered how much she didn't like her own costume, which she hadn't had much say in the design for.

I steadfastly ignored the whispered conversations from the Nazi half of the room, making a beeline for Amy. About a third of the way there, she caught my eye and subtly shook her head. I hesitated. Right, Taylor knew Amy. Showing up to a fight with Panacea in tow was one thing, there might be a good reason for that to happen which didn't involve us knowing each other. Jumping straight to chatting like we knew each other would shoot any attempt at obfuscating my identity in the foot. I kept the same course, but my target shifted slightly.

"Hey, you're Kid Win, right?" I knew Gallant had a knight theme, which this boy certainly didn't, narrowing things down handily.

"Uh, I-yeah." He stammered shyly. If I had to guess, he was used to having the rest of the Wards around to draw attention away.

"So... where is everyone?" I hedged, adamantly ignoring Vicky pulling Amy slightly away to begin a whispered interrogation about me. The rest of New Wave kept an eye on me, but I didn't think their own low conversations were about me. "I wasn't expecting Wards, but I thought there'd be more Protectorate heroes." He glanced around nervously, though his helmet should have hidden most of it. "I'd ask Miss Militia, but she looks... busy." I said softly, giving him another few seconds to gather himself.

The heroine in question had moved slightly, to keep myself and the villains in sight. Behind her, I could see monitors on the walls. Where usually they'd be playing various ads, safety videos, and clips of the local heroes; instead most of them had a large countdown running, with about thirty-six minutes remaining. The monitor next to it had much smaller font, but I could make out 'BROCKTON BAY: 413' and under it a counter that was slowly ticking up. It'd held at '198' since I'd gotten here, but jumped up to '204' as I watched. Amy was right, we were abysmally low priority, it seemed.

"Uh, yeah." He finally muttered again. "Most of them are staying back. Miss Militia has experience coordinating things, Velocity can easily make it right before the timer's up, and Armsmaster..." I could tell he fidgeted slightly, despite it being mostly hidden by his rigid armor. "He's the sort of Tinker who can make every minute count..." -unlike me, I could tell he was thinking. I didn't know if it was naturally low self-esteem, or comparisons to Armsmaster that I hadn't realized before now that he'd face almost constantly, but he really didn't have a very high opinion of himself. I had no idea what I could do about it, though. The kindest thing would probably be to ignore it, for now.

"What about the other Wards? If you're here, are they coming, too?" By now Amy had huffed and started stonewalling Vicky, instead of trying to deflect, obfuscate, or lie about any connection we might have, based on both being at that fight last week. I could feel Vicky's aura flaring over the room now and then, but forced myself to ignore it. She was pouting now, looking around for something else to focus on, her eyes always straying back to myself and Kid Win, curiosity that I was.

He shook his head. "Clock, Aegis, and Gallant don't do Endbringer stuff. It's a little weird Shadow Stalker isn't here, though. She usually..." He trailed off, uncomfortably.

"...likes rubbing in how much better at Search and Rescue she is?" Vicky cut in, smiling impishly. He grumbled, but didn't outright deny it. Shadow Stalker sounded... unpleasant.

"What about Vista?" I asked.

Kid winced, glancing to Vicky, who had a classic 'Oh, please don't tell, my version is much more detailed and embarassing~' twinkle in her eyes as she smiled at us. He sighed and relented. "Vista... isn't allowed to go." Vicky's grin widening slightly had him bite back a groan and continue. "The last time there was a Simurgh fight, Vista went for search and rescue. It was before I'd finished joining the Wards, and she doesn't like talking about it, but she was hurt. Stabbed by a Ziz-bomb." I hadn't heard about that, but a glance over to Vicky and Amy showed they weren't surprised. Depending on how bad it was, Amy might have been asked to heal it, so that made sense. "Since then, they put new regulations in place. No Wards under 15 at away fights, even with parental permission." He paused to shake his head. "She's... still really mad about being at the center of that." I would be, too. "We've tried arguing that it was a Ziz plot, with kids triggering younger on average every year, to keep young Wards that could make a serious difference out of the fights, but all that did was land her in M/S for a week."

I didn't need the winces around to tell that sounded unpleasant, and I didn't even know what it meant. "M. S.?"

He cringed. "Master/Stranger protocols. For telling if someone's had their mind altered, or might not be who they say they are. I'm... not sure how much else I'm allowed to tell you about it." Yeah, that didn't sound remotely pleasant.

"So, uh," I said a bit louder, changing the subject. "What should I expect when we get there?"

The two of them floundered a little, though I wasn't sure why. I knew these fights were bad, but then they'd just say it was bad, wouldn't they?

"Oh-ho? Newbie wants advice now, does she?" The deep voice crowed from behind me. I watched the figure amble over from the middle of the pack with my senses, not really wanting to turn and interact with them, even as I cringed. Maybe I'd been a little too loud?

"Go away, Hookwolf." Vicky growled, glaring over my shoulder. I could feel her aura pick up, trying to run him off, but I pushed the feelings down. I really didn't feel like 'awe' right now. The rest of the room was tensely watching, and I could feel Rune jump to her feet and trail after him. She ended up a little behind him, a couple meters off to the side, near the exit. She felt worried, concerned, irritated, and a little angry, though I couldn't tell who each of those were aimed at.

The man slapped a hand over his thin-shirted chest, miming a shot to the heart. "Oh no, and here I was, just bein' neighborly." I could tell he was feeling the irrational fear response from Vicky's aura, but wasn't letting it stop him. I tried to remember if they'd fought before, or if he was just used to ignoring fear as a nearly-indestructible frontline fighter. It had to be something like that, with the way Rune was nearly cowering under the same effect. "Girlie wants advice on dealing with an Endbringer's mess, then I figured as one of the few people in the room with experience fighting the things, I might have a touch of seniority on the topic." He grinned widely under his full-face mask.

That's what this was. Strutting, making himself feel bigger, poking barbs at the heroes while they couldn't shoot him for it. It reminded me of Emma and all her top bitch socialite bullshit. I'd hated him on principle as a murderous Nazi before, but this was just making me dislike him on a personal level, on top of that. "But not the Simurgh fights?" I asked, finally turning to face him and trying to affect as much of an 'unimpressed' look as I could, as well-covered as I was.

My barb struck a nerve, but he didn't show it outwardly, refusing to let himself lose face. Instead he shrugged widely. "The fuck am I supposed to do to some flighty bitch up in the air? I know I'm a ground-pounder." Can't concede, can't let himself lose, not in his nature to let things slide, but can't revenge the slight violently like he wants to, with the truce on. "Besides, you've seen the line for the smurf fights." He pointed with a thumb back towards the monitors, now morosely displaying a static '212' with about half an hour to go. "Anyway, important thing is, if you're not a Mover, they'll have you digging civvies out of the rubble." He said, dismissively. Then he grinned, a savage, wicked thing behind his mask. "But if you are a Mover, you'll be on cordon duty with me and your fliers." He twitched his chin up at New Wave. "There'll be two rings of flares around the city, where they're gonna be putting up the walls. Anyone from inside passes the first, you shoo them back inside." He shook his head sadly, despite his smile. "But if they get past the second one..." He reached his right hand up slightly, his middle finger shredding as the flayed filaments distorted and distended, forming into thin chains and braided cords of barbed and bladed metal. The thin whip slowly slithered its way through the air across his chest, until it reached his neck. He flicked its tip across his throat in a quick and brutal gesture, before the digit reformed and he continued the motion into a shrug.

I grit my teeth furiously, my hands clenching as I fought down the urge to punch him in his smug shit-eating grin. He wasn't here to help the city. He wasn't here to save anyone. He was here to kill people and get away with it. I wasn't the only one bristling, either. Most of New Wave had tensed, and Amy was actively holding Vicky back with a hand on her sister's chest.

"Hookwolf, please, you're not helping." Rune cut in, causing the man to glare in her direction. Then he noticed the eerie silence from the rest of his cadre as they watched, his eyes panning over them until they reached Kaiser himself, whose head shifted in a tiny negative shake.

He scoffed, but prowled away towards Stormtiger and Cricket, muttering "Shut up, brat." to Rune as he went.

The tension died down a bit as he left, New Wave letting the imminent violence drain out of them, while Kid Win uncoiled a bit from his subtle cowering in the face of goddamned Hookwolf, which was pretty understandable all things considered.

"Don't talk to anyone." I'd assumed Rune would follow Hookwolf back to their side of the room, but instead she glanced their way and slowly approached us. "When we get there, don't talk to anyone." She stopped a couple feet shy, when it looked like Vicky was tensing up to punch her Junior Nazi face in. "They're not people anymore, not really." Vicky snapped at her, and Rune flinched, taking a step back and cowering away.

Despite my mask, I halfheartedly glared at my friend, still held back slightly by her sister. "Vicky, aura." I muttered sharply. "There's still a truce on, snap a cap on it."

Vicky gave me a confused look, but she did settle down a bit. She huffed and floated away slightly, her sister holding her place between all of us. I could tell Amy was frustrated, at least partly with me, but I didn't have the time to unpack that right now. I turned back to rune and curtly motioned for her to get on with it.

She was still wary and worried, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was me she was worried for, though I had no idea why. The fact that she felt like she was telling the truth helped a little, but considering dehumanizing others was part of the Empire's rhetoric, not as much as it usually would. "I know that sounds bad, and I know most of the people in the city are just normal people stuck there with the bombs, but it's the one you stop and talk to, the one you let yourself think is still a person, and isn't, that hurts you." She shook her head sadly, and I could feel how ashamed she felt, admitting it. "Not even physically, either. They'll say something, do something, and it might not matter now, but someday down the line, it'll come up, or you'll remember… and then you'll hesitate, or overreact, or whatever, and something terrible will happen because you talked to a bomb." Her words had grown more heated as she spoke, peaking near the end loud enough that it was possible the rest of the room might have overheard it. She seemed to realize this, and shrunk self-consciously in on herself. She shook her head, continuing at her original quiet volume, a surprising amount of worry and compassion to her emotions and tone. "Please, just… don't talk to anyone. It's better that way." Her piece said, she made her way back to her prior seat, skirting around the rest of her gang, and steadfastly ignoring their calculating eyes.

"Well," Amy muttered after Rune passed out of earshot. "…she's not entirely wrong."

"Ames!" Vicky whined, disappointed.

She shrugged. "Carol said the same thing before we left the house, and Aunt Sarah said it again before we came here. Are you going to say they're wrong, too?"

Victoria was fidgeting, uncomfortable. Kid Win and most of New Wave were also feeling varying levels of conflicted over the conversation they were overhearing. "You don't have to agree with her, though." She grumbled halfheartedly.

Amy shrugged again. "I don't really like it, either, but someone had to tell Terra."

"Thanks, Panacea." I said, fumbling slightly over her cape name. She grunted and wandered a little closer to her family, letting the room settle down into a rather awkward silence for about a minute.

Miss Militia put a hand to her ear after that, drawing eyes, including mine, across the room. The words and numbers on the monitors behind her were blinking. She nodded, then turned fully towards the crowd. "The fight's over! Everyone get ready to head out." Her voice projected over the room fairly well without yelling. Our place in the queue was knocked down a few places, and the estimated time to departure settled down at about six minutes.

The numbers didn't quite make sense until I noticed the 'current' queue number jumping far more rapidly now. "Does that really make such a huge difference?" I wondered out loud.

Kid Win answered. "A lot of the transport capes won't go near an active Endbringer fight, let alone a Simurgh fight, add in that about half the mass-teleporters we have access to are Tinkers who use their tech to do it…?" He trailed off, sadly.

"…and Tinkers are bad for Simurgh fights." I finished, morosely. I suppose if anything explained cutting our queue time by twenty-something minutes, getting more than half their teleporters actually participating would do it.

The room settled into a tense silence while we waited out the clock. About three minutes to leaving, the elevator dinged and swished open, dispensing Armsmaster into the room. He strode in, in all his blue-chrome glory, trailed by a small floating trolley laden with plastic crates. His eyes scanned the room, fixating on me as he pulled up next to Miss Militia. "New cape?"

"Terraform, sir." I responded, having to pitch my voice louder to project across the room. I had to wonder if the Protectorate had training for doing that so easily, or if it was something that came with an age I hadn't hit, yet.

He hummed and nodded. "Good to have you with us." He then immediately turned to start a hushed conversation with Miss Militia that I couldn't overhear. I pushed down the flash of giddiness that flared up at his words, now wasn't the time for fangirling. He grabbed one of the smaller crates off the top of the trolley, popped it open with one hand and drew a thick plastic band out of it. Then he set it down and sent it skidding to the middle of the room with his foot. "Com bands." He announced, before making his way over to me. Several of the Nazis started audibly grumbling over the disrespect they were being shown, but it was hard to feel bad for them. Victor, Stormtiger, Cricket, and one of the twins went to the box to grab enough for the rest of them, as the Tinker got to us. "Comms check?" He asked, looking to New Wave.

"Already done." Brandish answered, getting a nod in return.

"I assume you don't have your own radio?" He asked me, and I shook my head. He nodded, holding the band out to me. It looked a lot like a bulky plastic version of a sweatband, with a basic screen taking up most of its face, and two large-ish buttons taking up the rest. "Hold the top button to talk, press the bottom one to ping your position, hold both for emergency override. Do not abuse that privilege." I nodded, and was briefly distracted by Velocity streaking through the room from the front entrance, ending next to Miss Militia. "Press the top button, and follow the startup prompts." He said, drawing my full attention again. "Good luck." Social niceties complete, he gave a curt nod and turned to gather up the box of armbands on his way back to the other Protectorate heroes.

It took me a second to figure out the release latch, then clip the band over my wrist. I hit the button and 'State Name' popped up on the screen. I held it up to my mask and stated "Terraform." By the time I drew it away, the prompt had changed to 'TERRAFORM, Confirm?' with a 'Yes' next to the top button, and a 'No' by the bottom one. I hit yes, and the band started to slowly flash 'STANDBY' at me. It was finally starting to really sink in that this was happening. I was going to another country to help with emergency disaster relief. I was going to be saving lives. People were going to be counting on me.

I drew in a deep breath and slipped into the first stages of meditation, clearing the clutter from my mind and focusing on what was important. This was happening, and I was ready for it. That's all that mattered.