Chapter 10 - Narrative Control

"MYSTERIOUS HERO STOPS DIMENSIONAL THREATS: New Guardian Ally Brings Hope to Crisis"

Max stared at the headline of the special Harbor News edition, his own masked face staring back at him from the grainy photograph. The image showed Rumor containing a dimensional rift in the Heights district, the spiral symbol on his chest prominently visible.

The article presented a carefully crafted narrative—dimensional anomalies were being successfully contained, the situation was under control, and a new hero was working alongside the Guardians to protect the city. The tone was optimistic without being unrealistic, acknowledging the crisis while emphasizing humanity's resilience.

"Not bad, eh?" Mr. Donovan said, mustache twitching with pride as he surveyed copies rolling off the printing press. "First publication to get an exclusive on this 'Rumor' character. Tribune's editors are probably having collective apoplexy."

"It's... impressive," Max agreed, still disoriented by the experience of reading about himself. "But are you sure about the angle? It seems pretty positive given what's happening."

Mr. Donovan's expression turned serious. "People need hope, Peterson. Facts without context create panic. Context without facts creates delusion. Our job is to provide both—the truth of what's happening and a framework for understanding it that doesn't lead to despair."

It was a surprisingly philosophical perspective from his gruff boss, but it aligned perfectly with the strategy Mrs. Chen and Mentis had developed. Controlled information distribution to build collective belief in the possibility of overcoming the crisis.

"How'd you get the interview?" Max asked, referring to the article's claims of exclusive comments from Rumor himself.

"Guardian press liaison arranged it," Mr. Donovan said. "Very hush-hush. Only trusted journalists. Though between us, that Rumor fellow seemed familiar somehow. Something about his mannerisms."

Max coughed awkwardly. "Probably just one of those faces. Or, well, half-faces, with the mask and all."

"Hmm." Mr. Donovan didn't seem entirely convinced but moved on. "Special edition goes out citywide today. I need my fastest courier on the Guardian Tower route. Think you can handle it without another heroic incident?"

"Absolutely," Max promised, mentally crossing his fingers. "Just a normal delivery day."

"Good. Because I need you in one piece." Mr. Donovan handed him a press badge with unusually high security clearance. "Guardian press conference at 1400 hours. You'll be delivering live updates to our field reporters. Important stuff, Peterson. Don't be late."

Max stared at the badge in surprise. "Why me for this assignment? Surely Randy or one of the senior couriers—"

"Because despite your chronic tardiness and implausible excuses," Mr. Donovan interrupted, "you've proven remarkably reliable during this crisis. You know the routes, you've demonstrated good judgment in dangerous situations, and frankly—" his voice softened slightly, "—the Guardians seem to respond well to you. Something about you inspires confidence."

If only his boss knew just how right he was. Max felt a twinge of guilt about the deception, but reminded himself that the stakes justified it. Reality itself depended on maintaining these separate identities a while longer.

"I won't let you down, sir," he said with genuine determination.

"See that you don't." Mr. Donovan handed him a bulging messenger bag. "Now get moving. The morning edition won't deliver itself."

The streets of New Harbor had a different energy than just a few days earlier. People still moved with caution, still glanced nervously at the sky for signs of dimensional rifts, but the pure panic had subsided. Conversations overheard as Max cycled through his route included phrases like "getting under control" and "that new hero working with the Guardians."

The narrative was taking hold.

Max delivered papers to shops, community centers, and residential buildings, deliberately engaging people in brief conversations about the crisis. Each interaction reinforced the carefully constructed message—challenging but manageable, concerning but improving, dangerous but being addressed by capable protectors.

By mid-morning, he'd begun to notice something strange. The more he discussed Rumor's efforts with citizens, the stronger he felt physically. It wasn't just his usual power fluctuation based on proximity to believers—this was deeper, more sustainable, as if the growing consensus about the crisis being manageable was directly empowering him.

Mrs. Chen's theory about collective belief affecting reality itself seemed to be manifesting in real time.

At Guardian Tower, Max found increased security but also increased optimism. Staff moved with purpose rather than panic, and the monitors displaying anomaly locations showed more contained sites than active ones.

"Peterson," called a familiar voice as he delivered packages to the lobby. Blockade stood by the security checkpoint, his imposing presence drawing immediate attention despite his quiet demeanor.

"Sir," Max nodded respectfully, still intimidated by the force field Guardian despite their previous interactions.

"Special delivery." Blockade handed him a small package with Guardian security seals. "For Mrs. Chen in The Shallows. Hand delivery only."

Max blinked in surprise. "You know Mrs. Chen?"

Blockade's expression revealed nothing. "Recent consultant. Important to ongoing operations." His terse explanation offered no room for follow-up questions. "Deliver directly. No intermediaries."

"Yes, sir," Max agreed, carefully placing the package in his courier bag. "Right away."

As he turned to leave, Blockade added, "Good work, Peterson."

"Sir? I'm just delivering packages."

The corner of Blockade's mouth twitched in what might have been a microscopic smile. "Information is as crucial as action in times of crisis. Never underestimate the importance of reliable messengers."

There was something in his tone that made Max wonder if Blockade knew more than he was letting on. But before he could consider the implications, the Guardian had already turned away, conversation clearly concluded.

Mrs. Chen accepted the package from Blockade without surprise, as if she'd been expecting it. "Prompt delivery," she noted. "Guardian efficiency is improving."

"You're working with the Guardians officially now?" Max asked, watching as she carefully broke the security seals.

"In a limited capacity," she confirmed. "Mentis has been discreet about my origins while leveraging my experience. A reasonable compromise."

The package contained what appeared to be technical components—crystalline structures similar to her own device, but adapted with Guardian technology. Mrs. Chen examined them with practiced precision.

"Integration prototypes," she explained. "Combining my reality anchoring knowledge with their dimensional stabilization technology. Potentially promising, if applied correctly."

"So the plan is working?" Max asked hopefully.

"Preliminary signs are positive," Mrs. Chen said cautiously. "Anomaly formation rates have decreased 23% since our narrative distribution began. Existing rifts show improved stability when containment measures are applied."

"That's great news!" Max exclaimed.

"It's encouraging," she corrected, "but far from conclusive. The Engineers won't abandon their objectives easily. This represents only the opening moves in a complex confrontation."

Max sighed. "Always the optimist, aren't you?"

The faintest smile touched Mrs. Chen's lips. "When you've witnessed the end of one world, cautious hope becomes your most valuable possession." She carefully repacked the components. "However, your role in this strategy is proving even more effective than anticipated."

"Me? What am I doing besides delivering papers and occasionally closing portals as Rumor?"

"You're becoming a consensus nexus," she explained. "As both your identities gain prominence in the city's narrative, your influence on collective perception increases. The courier who faces danger to deliver vital information, the hero who stands against dimensional threats—both reinforce the belief that challenges can be overcome."

"Is that why I've been feeling stronger? More... stable?"

Mrs. Chen nodded. "Your physical manifestation of collective belief serves as a measurable indicator of our progress. As consensus solidifies around the possibility of overcoming the crisis, your abilities strengthen and stabilize."

"So I'm basically a walking barometer for how well the plan is working," Max summarized.

"An inelegant but accurate description," she agreed. "Which is why your appearance at today's press conference is particularly important."

Max frowned. "I'm just delivering updates to field reporters. I won't be on stage or anything."

"Your presence matters regardless. Both aspects of your identity influencing the same event—courier and hero, separate yet connected. A reinforcement loop that strengthens the narrative."

The mystical aspects of Mrs. Chen's explanations still sometimes bewildered Max, but he'd learned to trust her insights. If his simply being at the press conference somehow helped stabilize reality, he wasn't going to argue.

"Speaking of identities," he said, checking the time, "I need to get back to my deliveries if I'm going to make the press conference. Mr. Donovan will have my head if I'm late for this assignment."

"Before you go," Mrs. Chen said, her tone shifting subtly, "there's something we should discuss. About the Convergence Engineer you encountered."

Max paused at the door. "What about it?"

"You mentioned its voice seemed familiar, despite the modulation."

"Yeah," Max confirmed. "Something about it reminded me of Shock, but that's impossible. Shock is locked up in Guardian containment."

Mrs. Chen's expression grew troubled. "Perhaps. But Convergence Engineers often have connections to the realities they manipulate. Temporal and dimensional boundaries become... fluid during advanced degradation stages."

"Wait," Max said, her implication becoming clear. "Are you saying that Engineer could be someone from our reality? From our future or something?"

"It's a possibility we should consider," she replied carefully. "Particularly given its specific interest in you and its knowledge of your dual identity."

The thought was deeply unsettling. "But why would anyone from our world want to help destroy it?"

"As it told you—necessity." Mrs. Chen's ancient eyes held shadows of memories Max couldn't begin to comprehend. "In the final stages of collapse, desperation leads to choices that might seem incomprehensible from your current perspective."

Max didn't know how to respond to that disturbing thought. Thankfully, his courier duties provided a convenient escape. "I'll keep it in mind. For now, I need to focus on today's tasks."

Mrs. Chen nodded. "Of course. And Max?" She hesitated, something rare for her. "Be vigilant at the press conference. Public events focusing on the dimensional crisis may attract... attention."

"You think the Engineers might target it?"

"I think narrative control works both ways," she said cryptically. "If we can use consensus to stabilize reality, others might attempt to use it to accelerate degradation."

With that comforting thought, Max headed out to complete his morning deliveries before the press conference. The broken moon watched silently from above, its fragmented form a constant reminder of how drastically reality could change—and how much remained at stake.

Guardian Plaza was packed with journalists, officials, and curious citizens by the time Max arrived. The open area before Guardian Tower had been transformed into a makeshift press venue, with a stage set up for Guardian representatives to address the public directly about the dimensional crisis.

Max's press credentials got him access to the courier station where field reporters would hand him updates to deliver throughout the city as the conference progressed. From this position, he had a clear view of the stage while remaining inconspicuous enough to do his job.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation as the scheduled start time approached. Max scanned the audience, noting the mixture of anxiety and hope on faces throughout the plaza. The carefully constructed narrative was clearly having an effect—people wanted to believe the crisis could be managed.

At precisely 1400 hours, the Guardian representatives took the stage. Lumina led the delegation, her white and gold uniform immaculate, blonde hair catching the afternoon sunlight in a way that created that natural halo effect Max found so captivating. She was accompanied by Mentis, Blockade, and several high-ranking city officials.

Notably absent was any sign of Rumor, despite the morning newspaper featuring him prominently. Max smiled slightly at the irony of being both present and absent simultaneously.

"Citizens of New Harbor," Lumina began, her clear voice carrying easily across the plaza. "Thank you for joining us today for this important update on the dimensional anomaly situation."

Her opening remarks struck the perfect balance—acknowledging the seriousness of the crisis without fostering panic, emphasizing progress without promising unrealistic outcomes. Max could see why the Guardians had chosen her as spokesperson—her natural warmth and sincerity inspired confidence.

"While challenges remain," she continued, "we have made significant progress in understanding and containing the dimensional rifts. Anomaly formation rates have decreased by 23% over the past seventy-two hours, and our containment protocols have successfully stabilized 87% of existing rifts."

The statistics matched exactly what Mrs. Chen had told him earlier—Mentis was clearly keeping her fully informed despite her unofficial status.

"We have also benefited from new collaborative efforts," Lumina added, "including valuable assistance from powered individuals like the one citizens have named 'Rumor,' whose unique abilities have proven particularly effective against dimensional anomalies."

A murmur of interest ran through the crowd at the mention of Rumor. Max felt a strange tingling sensation across his skin as dozens of people around him discussed his alter ego.

"Is it true he can walk through the portals?" one reporter called out.

"Rumor has demonstrated an ability to interact with dimensional boundaries in ways that facilitate controlled collapse," Mentis answered precisely. "This capability has been instrumental in our containment strategy."

Another reporter stood. "Are the rumors true that entities are coming through these rifts? Aliens or interdimensional beings?"

Lumina handled this more delicate question. "We have documented instances of dimensional transit, yes. Most entities return to their origin points when anomalies are contained. Those that remain are primarily refugees seeking sanctuary from unstable realities, and are being processed through appropriate protocols."

The careful wording—technically accurate while omitting mention of hostile entities like the Convergence Engineer—was clearly crafted to maintain the narrative of manageable crisis.

As the questions continued, Max noticed something odd. A subtle pressure was building in the plaza, not physical but almost perceptual—like reality itself was growing slightly thinner. He recognized the sensation from his encounters with dimensional anomalies.

Scanning the crowd more carefully, Max spotted a figure near the back that seemed somehow wrong. Though dressed in civilian clothes, their movements were too precise, too mechanical. Their face, partially obscured by a hood, appeared smooth and reflective when caught at certain angles.

A disguised Convergence Engineer.

Max's heart rate accelerated. He needed to alert the Guardians without causing panic or revealing his connection to Rumor. Abandoning his post at the courier station would be noticed immediately by the field reporters expecting updates.

Then he spotted an opportunity—Charlie "Newskid" Briggs was working the crowd, selling special editions of various newspapers, including Harbor News. The street-smart kid had connections throughout New Harbor and had proven reliable during previous crises.

Max flagged him down with a subtle gesture. "Charlie, quick favor. Big tip."

Charlie's eyes lit up at the prospect of payment. "What'cha need, Max?"

"See that Guardian security officer by the stage steps?" Max pointed discreetly. "Need you to get a message to him. Quietly, no fuss."

"Easy peasy," Charlie grinned. "What's the message?"

"Tell him 'courier Peterson reports Engineer in civilian disguise, northeast corner.' Got it?"

Charlie repeated the message perfectly, his quick mind clearly recognizing the seriousness despite not understanding the specifics. "On it. What's it worth?"

Max handed him a day's courier wages without hesitation. "Double that if you're back here in three minutes."

As Charlie slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, Max kept his eyes on the suspicious figure. They were moving slowly but deliberately toward the stage, maintaining a carefully casual posture that wouldn't attract attention from regular security.

Max couldn't wait. The figure's hand had slipped inside their jacket, reaching for something.

"Excuse me, urgent delivery," Max muttered, pushing through the crowd toward the stage. Being a courier had its advantages—people generally moved aside when you looked like you were on official business.

He was halfway to the stage when the disguised Engineer suddenly accelerated, moving with inhuman speed toward Lumina. Security reacted, but too slowly.

Max didn't think. He just acted.

Abandoning all pretense of being just a courier, he launched himself forward with enhanced reflexes that would definitely raise questions later. His messenger bag went flying as he tackled the Engineer from behind, sending them both crashing into a row of chairs.

"Security breach!" someone shouted, and chaos erupted.

The Engineer twisted with impossible flexibility, throwing Max off like he weighed nothing. The hood fell back, revealing that smooth, reflective face—not a full helmet like before, but a face-shaped mirror surface that rippled like liquid metal.

"Consensus Avatar," it said in that distorted, eerily familiar voice. "Always interfering."

Max rolled to his feet as security personnel surrounded them. "That's not a person!" he shouted. "Dimensional entity!"

The Engineer's arm transformed, civilian clothing tearing as it reformed into the same gauntlet weapon Max had seen in the laboratory. Energy gathered at its fingertips, aimed not at Max but at the stage where Lumina and Mentis were being hurriedly evacuated.

Max didn't have his Rumor costume, but he did have his powers. Drawing on the strength and speed that had become his most reliable abilities, he lunged forward again, grabbing the Engineer's weapon arm and forcing it upward.

The energy blast shot into the sky, narrowly missing the broken moon.

"Evacuate the plaza!" Blockade's voice boomed as he created force field barriers between the crowd and the confrontation. "Security teams, containment protocols!"

The Engineer fought with mechanical precision, each movement designed for maximum efficiency. Max found himself barely keeping pace despite his enhanced abilities, taking hits that would have broken bones if not for his rumor-granted durability.

"You cannot stop convergence," the Engineer stated flatly, landing a brutal strike to Max's ribs. "Only delay it."

"I'll take delay," Max grunted, countering with a punch that actually dented the Engineer's partially transformed chest plate. "Delay works for me."

Guardian security had formed a perimeter, but they were clearly hesitant to engage directly. Their weapons weren't designed for interdimensional entities, and the risk of civilian casualties remained high despite Blockade's evacuation efforts.

The Engineer seemed to realize it was outnumbered. It glanced at the sky, then back at Max. "Your determination is noted. Adjustments will be made."

Before Max could respond, the air behind the Engineer shimmered, forming a small dimensional rift. Unlike the unstable anomalies throughout the city, this one appeared controlled, deliberate.

"Target lock compromised," the Engineer stated, backing toward the rift. "Tactical withdrawal initiated."

"Oh no you don't," Max growled, charging forward despite the pain in his ribs.

He collided with the Engineer just as it entered the rift, the momentum carrying them both through the dimensional tear. For a sickening moment, Max felt reality itself stretch around him, his molecules seeming to separate and reconstitute simultaneously.

Then they crashed onto hard ground in a completely different location.

Max rolled to his feet, disoriented but ready to continue the fight. They had emerged on a rooftop somewhere in New Harbor's financial district, the Guardian Tower visible in the distance. The dimensional rift collapsed behind them, cutting off any possibility of immediate retreat.

The Engineer rose with that unsettling mechanical grace, its disguise now completely abandoned. The human clothing had torn away in patches, revealing the same black armor with pulsing blue-white energy lines Max had seen in the laboratory encounter.

"Unexpected transit companion," it observed. "Your intervention parameters exceed predicted models."

"Sorry to mess up your calculations," Max replied, circling warily. "Maybe try accounting for people not wanting reality to end."

"Reality ending is a misconception," the Engineer stated. "Convergence is transformation, not termination."

"Sell that to someone who hasn't seen your handiwork," Max countered, remembering the refugee entity's visions of a world coming apart.

The Engineer's featureless helmet tilted slightly. "You've communicated with drift entities. Unfortunate. Their perspective is limited by fear."

"And yours isn't limited by whatever programming makes you destroy worlds?"

Something about that question seemed to give the Engineer pause. "Not destruction. Reconfiguration. Necessary for—" It stopped abruptly, as if catching itself revealing too much.

Max used the moment of hesitation to attack, drawing on every combat technique he'd learned through training with the Guardians. His fist connected with the Engineer's helmet, actually rocking it backward.

The counterattack came with blinding speed—a sequence of strikes too precisely executed to be human. Max blocked what he could, his enhanced reflexes barely keeping up, but several powerful blows slipped through his defense.

Pain exploded across his body as he was thrown backward, crashing into a rooftop ventilation unit. The impact sent the metal housing flying in pieces.

"Your physical capabilities have improved since our last encounter," the Engineer noted, approaching steadily. "Collective belief strengthening your manifestation. Interesting but irrelevant to final outcomes."

Max struggled to his feet, spitting blood. "You talk too much for a robot."

"Not robotic. Optimized." The Engineer raised its gauntlet, energy gathering. "Your interference pattern requires neutralization."

The blast came without further warning—concentrated energy that would have vaporized Max if he hadn't instinctively phase-shifted. The energy passed through his semi-translucent form, obliterating another ventilation unit behind him.

"That trick again," the Engineer observed. "Primitive but effective dimensional phase variance."

Max's phase-state couldn't be maintained for long, especially after taking such a beating. As he solidified, he knew he needed a new approach.

The rooftop offered limited options—some construction materials, electrical equipment, and not much else. But maybe...

An idea formed. If the Engineer was so analytical, perhaps predictability was its weakness.

Max feigned greater injury than he felt, staggering slightly. "Why target New Harbor specifically? Why not start somewhere else?"

The question seemed to trigger some protocol in the Engineer. "Convergence cascade requires specific initiation points. This reality's dimensional stress fractures align optimally here."

While it spoke, Max subtly positioned himself near the electrical equipment. "And the Guardians? Why not eliminate them first?"

"Powered individuals present minimal threat to overall convergence timeline. Their efforts merely—"

Max didn't wait for it to finish. He kicked the electrical panel with all his enhanced strength, tearing it from its housing and sending a shower of sparks toward the Engineer. Simultaneously, he grabbed a length of rebar from the construction materials and charged.

The improvised electrical surge momentarily disrupted the energy patterns in the Engineer's armor. That split-second of vulnerability was all Max needed.

He drove the rebar through the disrupted armor with everything he had.

The Engineer staggered, blue-white energy crackling around the impalement point. Its modulated voice emitted a sound that might have been pain or surprise.

"Unconventional approach," it managed, energy fluctuating around its form. "Tactical reassessment required."

Max pressed his advantage, twisting the rebar deeper. "Reassess this—you're not welcome in our reality."

For a moment, he thought he'd actually won. The Engineer's systems seemed to be failing, its movements becoming erratic.

Then its gauntlet shot up, grabbing Max's throat with crushing force. "Termination protocols... overridden," it stated, voice fluctuating. "Subject Max Peterson... Consensus Avatar... priority extraction target."

Extraction? That was new and definitely didn't sound good.

Max struggled against the grip, his enhanced strength matching the Engineer's compromised systems. They grappled at the edge of the rooftop, the rebar still protruding from the entity's chest, energy discharges flaring around them.

"Let... go!" Max gasped, feeling his consciousness starting to fade.

"Your function... is too valuable... to terminate," the Engineer said, its voice shifting strangely, becoming less modulated, more... human? "Better uses... for Consensus Avatars..."

With a final surge of strength, Max twisted and pushed simultaneously. The Engineer, already off-balance from its systems disruption, toppled backward over the rooftop edge, dragging Max with it.

They fell six stories, grappling the entire way down. Max's enhanced durability might let him survive the impact, but he wasn't eager to test its limits.

At the last possible moment, the Engineer's systems seemed to partially recover. It twisted in midair, absorbing the worst of the impact as they crashed through the canopy of a street-level shop and onto the sidewalk.

Pedestrians scattered, screaming. Max rolled clear of the Engineer, every muscle screaming in protest. The entity struggled to rise, energy fluctuating wildly around the rebar still embedded in its chest.

"Situation... compromised," it stated, voice more human than mechanical now. "Tactical... withdrawal."

The air shimmered as another controlled rift began to form around the Engineer.

"Oh no you don't," Max growled, diving forward to grab the entity before it could escape.

Too late. The rift closed just as his fingers brushed the Engineer's armor, leaving Max sprawled on the sidewalk amid broken glass and twisted metal.

Sirens wailed in the distance—Guardian response teams, no doubt. Max knew he should probably leave before they arrived. The courier who had tackled an interdimensional entity would face too many questions he couldn't answer.

But his body had other ideas, refusing to move as exhaustion and injury finally caught up with him. The last thing he saw before consciousness faded was a familiar blur of red and white—Velocity, arriving first as always.

"Hang on, courier guy," came the speedster's voice. "Medics inbound. That was either the bravest or craziest thing I've ever seen a civilian do."

Max wanted to explain he wasn't just a civilian, but darkness claimed him before he could form the words.

---

He awoke in an unfamiliar bed, the distinctive hum of Guardian medical equipment surrounding him. Bandages wrapped his torso, and various monitoring devices tracked his vital signs.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," came a warm, familiar voice.

Max turned his head, wincing at the pain, to find Lumina sitting beside his bed. Her Guardian uniform was slightly disheveled, suggesting she'd been there for some time.

"The press conference," he croaked, memories flooding back. "Did everyone—"

"Everyone's safe," she assured him. "Thanks in no small part to you. Blockade's barriers protected the crowd, and the entity escaped before it could cause significant harm."

"The Engineer," Max corrected automatically, then winced again, realizing his mistake.

Lumina's eyes narrowed slightly. "Engineer? That's a specific designation for an entity type. How would you know that term, Mr. Peterson?"

Max's mind raced for a plausible explanation. "I... heard Mentis use it. During the evacuation."

She didn't seem entirely convinced but nodded anyway. "Well, whatever it was, you prevented what could have been a catastrophic attack. Though I'm curious how a newspaper courier managed to not only identify a disguised interdimensional entity but also engage it in hand-to-hand combat."

"Adrenaline?" Max suggested weakly.

Lumina's expression softened into a smile. "You're a terrible liar, Max. Almost as bad as you are at being on time for deliveries."

Before Max could defend himself, the door slid open, and Mentis entered, blue scarf perfectly arranged despite the day's chaos.

"Ah, Mr. Peterson. Conscious again. Excellent." He checked the medical readouts with practiced efficiency. "Remarkable recovery rate. Most humans would still be unconscious after sustaining such injuries."

There was something pointed about his use of "most humans" that made Max suspect the Guardian scientist was helping provide cover for his unexplained abilities.

"How long was I out?" Max asked.

"Approximately seven hours," Mentis replied. "Sufficient time for basic cellular regeneration given your... unique physiological characteristics."

Lumina glanced between them. "You two seem to have developed quite the rapport during your Guardian Tower deliveries."

"Mr. Peterson has proven an exceptionally observant courier," Mentis said smoothly. "His timely notification about the entity's presence, delivered through the street child, demonstrated commendable situational awareness."

Max silently thanked Mentis for the assist. "Just doing my job. Observing is part of being a good courier."

Lumina still looked suspicious but didn't press further. "Well, observant or not, what you did was extremely dangerous. You should have left the entity to Guardian personnel."

"There wasn't time," Max said honestly. "It was about to attack the stage—attack you."

Something flickered in Lumina's expression—surprise, followed by a softer emotion Max couldn't quite identify. "Yes, well... thank you for that. But please don't make a habit of tackling interdimensional threats. That's what we're here for."

The irony of her not knowing he regularly did exactly that as Rumor almost made Max laugh despite his injuries.

"I'll try to stick to delivering newspapers," he promised, crossing his fingers mentally.

"Speaking of which," Mentis interjected, "Mr. Donovan has been informed of your condition and situation. He expressed concern in his own... colorful way."

Max could just imagine his boss's reaction. "I'm guessing I still have a job?"

"Indeed," Mentis confirmed. "In fact, he seemed almost proud, though he disguised it with considerable profanity."

A notification chimed on Lumina's communicator. She checked it and stood reluctantly. "I need to get back to the command center. The dimensional crisis doesn't pause for hospital visits."

She hesitated at the door, then turned back to Max. "When you're recovered... maybe we could talk. Not about interdimensional entities or courier deliveries. Just... talk."

Before Max could respond, she was gone, leaving him blinking in surprise.

"Well," Mentis observed dryly, "that was an unexpected development."

Max couldn't quite process what had just happened. Had Lumina—THE Lumina—just suggested they spend time together? Outside of their professional interactions?

"Focus, Mr. Peterson," Mentis said, recalling Max's attention. "While your heroics were admirable, they've created complications. Your abilities were witnessed by hundreds of civilians and are now being discussed across New Harbor."

Reality crashed back. "My cover—"

"Remains intact, for now," Mentis assured him. "The narrative being circulated suggests you're simply another example of a civilian manifesting abilities under stress—a not uncommon occurrence since The Collapse. But maintaining separation between Max Peterson and Rumor will become increasingly difficult."

Max sighed, wincing as his injured ribs protested. "So what now?"

"Now," Mentis said, checking that they were truly alone, "we adapt our strategy. Your public confrontation with the Engineer has significantly altered the narrative landscape. People witnessed a 'normal citizen' standing against the dimensional threat—and succeeding, at least partially."

"And that's... good?"

"Potentially transformative," Mentis confirmed. "Mrs. Chen is quite excited about the development, though she expresses it in her characteristically reserved manner."

Despite everything, Max had to smile at that accurate description of his enigmatic neighbor.

Mentis continued, "Rest and recover for now. When you're discharged, we'll meet with Mrs. Chen to discuss next steps. The Engineer's retreat suggests our approach is having an effect, but its comments about 'extraction' rather than termination introduce new variables to consider."

As Mentis left, Max stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything. He'd publicly used his powers, nearly blown his cover, gotten thoroughly beaten by an interdimensional entity, and somehow impressed Lumina enough that she wanted to spend time with him.

All in all, not his worst day as a superhero.

Now he just had to figure out what the Engineer had meant about "better uses for Consensus Avatars" before it—or others like it—returned to try again.

Because something told him the next encounter wouldn't end with just a tactical withdrawal. The stakes were escalating, and Max was increasingly at the center of whatever cosmic game was playing out across realities.

At least people believed in him now—both as Max and as Rumor. And in this strange new world where belief shaped reality, that might just be enough to make a difference.