Chapter 11 - Identity Crisis

"COURIER HERO FIGHTS DIMENSIONAL MONSTER: Ordinary Citizen Shows Extraordinary Courage"

Max stared at the headline with a mixture of pride and horror. Mr. Donovan had outdone himself this time. The front page featured a blurry but recognizable photo of Max tackling the disguised Engineer at the press conference, followed by a dramatic account of their rooftop battle caught by helicopter news cameras.

"You're famous, Peterson," Randy said, dropping a stack of papers on Max's desk with unusual respect. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Three days had passed since the Engineer confrontation. Max's enhanced healing had allowed him to return to work despite Mentis's objections, though Mr. Donovan had temporarily assigned him to office duty rather than deliveries.

"Just got lucky," Max mumbled, uncomfortable with the attention. Every courier and journalist in Harbor News had found excuses to pass by his desk and offer congratulations or ask questions he couldn't honestly answer.

"Lucky?" Randy snorted. "There's video of you getting thrown through a ventilation unit and getting back up. That's not luck, that's..." He lowered his voice. "That's powers. You're Awakened, aren't you?"

Max had prepared for this question with Mentis and Mrs. Chen. The cover story was simple: stress-induced manifestation, a documented phenomenon since The Collapse where ordinary citizens briefly displayed enhanced abilities during crisis situations.

"The doctors called it 'adrenal enhancement,'" Max explained with rehearsed casualness. "Apparently it happens sometimes during extreme danger. Temporary boost, already fading."

Randy looked unconvinced. "You punched through armor, Peterson. I saw the footage."

"And now I can barely lift these papers," Max countered, wincing genuinely as his still-healing ribs protested. "One-time thing, according to Guardian medical."

Before Randy could press further, Mr. Donovan's booming voice saved him.

"PETERSON! My office!"

Max made his escape, ignoring the stares that followed him across the newsroom. Inside the relative privacy of Mr. Donovan's office, his boss gestured to a chair without looking up from the layouts spread across his desk.

"How's the hero business treating you?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm not a hero, sir. Just got caught up in something."

Mr. Donovan finally looked up, his bushy mustache twitching with what might have been amusement. "Save the modesty for the interview requests. Already had to turn away sixteen of them this morning."

"Interview requests?" Max repeated, alarmed.

"Everyone wants the courier who fought the dimensional whatever-it-was." Mr. Donovan shuffled papers with surprising delicacy for his large hands. "Tribune offered money. I told them where to shove it. Harbor News has exclusive rights to your story."

"My story isn't that interesting," Max protested.

"People decide what's interesting, not you." Mr. Donovan fixed him with a surprisingly perceptive stare. "And right now, people find you very interesting indeed. Ordinary guy stands up to extraordinary threat—it's the story everyone needs during a crisis."

The wording was uncomfortably close to what Mrs. Chen had described as their strategy for stabilizing reality through narrative control. Had Mr. Donovan somehow intuited the larger plan, or was this just his journalist's instinct for compelling stories?

"Look," his boss continued, expression softening slightly. "I know this attention is uncomfortable. But sometimes we find ourselves in positions to do more good than we planned. Your actions have given people hope, Peterson. Don't underestimate how valuable that is right now."

Max nodded, genuinely touched by the uncharacteristic earnestness.

"That said," Mr. Donovan added, reverting to his usual gruffness, "if you ever pull a stunt like that again without taking a photographer along, you're fired. Think of the exclusive we missed!"

---

By lunchtime, Max had fielded dozens of questions from coworkers, declined three interview requests that had somehow reached his desk despite Mr. Donovan's screening, and received seventeen messages on his personal communicator from old acquaintances suddenly remembering his existence.

Fame, even on this limited scale, was exhausting.

He escaped to the roof for some peace, only to find someone already there—Charlie "Newskid" Briggs, perched on an air conditioning unit, counting a substantial pile of cash.

"Business is good?" Max asked, startling the youngster.

Charlie recovered quickly, grinning as he pocketed the money. "Special editions about you are selling faster than Lumina action figures after a rescue. Everyone wants to know about the courier who fought a monster."

Max winced. "It wasn't a monster. It was an interdimensional entity."

"Same difference to most folks," Charlie shrugged. "Point is, you're good for business." His expression turned shrewd. "And I'm good for information."

"What kind of information?"

The kid's grin widened. "People are talking all over the city. Not just about you—about everything. The dimensional whatsits, the Guardians, that new hero Rumor..." He gave Max a pointed look. "Interesting timing, him not being around during the press conference attack, don't you think?"

Max's heart skipped a beat. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing, nothing," Charlie said, examining his fingernails with exaggerated casualness. "Just that I'm observant. Notice things. Like how Rumor and Max Peterson have never been seen together. And how you asked me to deliver that very specific message about an 'Engineer' before anyone else knew what that thing was."

This was bad. Very bad. If a street kid had pieced together his identity, how long before others did too?

"That's quite a theory," Max said carefully. "But pretty far-fetched, don't you think?"

Charlie hopped down from his perch. "Maybe. Or maybe not. Either way, your secret's safe with me."

"I don't have a secret," Max insisted.

"Course not," Charlie winked. "But hypothetically, if you did, having a kid with ears all over the city on your side might be useful, right? Kids hear things adults don't. Go places they can't."

The kid was blackmailing him. Sort of. In the friendliest possible way.

"What exactly are you proposing?" Max asked warily.

"Partnership!" Charlie declared. "You need information, I get it for you. In exchange..." He hesitated, suddenly looking more like the twelve-year-old he was than the street-savvy operator. "You teach me how to be like you. A hero."

That was unexpected. Max had anticipated demands for money or other tangible benefits.

"Charlie, I'm not—" He stopped, realizing denial was pointless given what the boy had clearly figured out. "It's dangerous," he said instead. "What I do, what I'm involved in—it's not a game."

"You think I don't know dangerous?" Charlie scoffed. "I was seven when The Collapse happened. Lived on the streets for two years before finding the newspaper gig. I know dangerous."

The earnestness in the boy's eyes reminded Max uncomfortably of himself—that same desire to make a difference, to be something more.

"I can't teach you to have powers," he said gently.

"Don't need powers," Charlie countered. "Need to help. Like you did before you got powers. The courier who stood up to Shock, remember? That was before all this Rumor business."

The kid had done his homework. And he wasn't wrong—Max had stood up to Shock without powers, just ordinary (if foolish) courage.

"I'll think about it," Max conceded. "But for now, let's start with information. What are people saying about the dimensional anomalies? The real talk, not what's in the papers."

Charlie's face lit up at being taken seriously. "Mixed bag. Some neighborhoods are doing better than others. The Shallows and Harbor Center, people are mostly believing the 'situation under control' story. The Heights too, but they're skeptical about everything."

"And the areas with more anomalies?"

"That's where it gets weird," Charlie leaned in conspiratorially. "The Docks and Meltdown Zone, people are starting to treat the rifts like they're normal. Setting up shops around contained ones, using the stable ones as tourist attractions."

That was surprising—and concerning. Normalization could work both ways. If people stopped viewing the anomalies as dangerous, would that strengthen or weaken reality's resilience?

"Anything else unusual? People acting strangely around the rifts?"

Charlie nodded vigorously. "There's a group going around at night, wearing these weird robes with spiral patterns. They gather near active rifts and chant or something. Call themselves 'The Convergence.'"

Max nearly choked. "The Convergence? Are you sure that's their name?"

"Positive. They're passing out flyers in the Meltdown Zone." Charlie pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket. "Got one here."

The flyer featured a crude drawing of the broken moon above a spiraling pattern of dimensional rifts. The text proclaimed: "THE CONVERGENCE COMES. RESISTANCE BRINGS SUFFERING. ACCEPTANCE BRINGS TRANSCENDENCE."

"When did these start appearing?" Max asked, trying to keep his voice casual while his mind raced.

"Three, four days ago? Right after you fought that Engineer thing." Charlie studied him with unexpected perception. "They're connected, aren't they? To the thing you fought."

"Maybe," Max admitted, seeing no point in lying to someone already so close to the truth. "Which is why you need to stay away from them, Charlie. Far away. These people aren't playing games."

Charlie nodded solemnly. "I'll keep track of them from a distance. Let you know what they're up to."

"No—" Max began, then reconsidered. The kid would investigate with or without his approval. Better to have some influence over how he did it. "Just observe. No interaction. And you report everything to me, no matter how small it seems. Deal?"

"Deal!" Charlie agreed eagerly, extending his hand for a surprisingly formal handshake. "Partners!"

As Max reluctantly shook, he wondered how he'd explain to Mentis and Mrs. Chen that he'd just acquired a twelve-year-old informant who knew his secret identity.

Just another typical day in the life of a superhero courier.

---

"A cult," Mentis stated flatly, examining the flyer under laboratory scanning equipment. "Dimensional entity worshippers are not unprecedented, but this specific synchronization with Engineer terminology suggests direct influence."

Max, Mrs. Chen, and Mentis had gathered in his university laboratory after hours, the facility secured against eavesdropping by both technological and mystical means (the latter contributed by Mrs. Chen through methods she declined to explain).

"They're called 'influence nodes' in my world," Mrs. Chen noted, studying the spiral pattern with evident concern. "Individuals psychologically susceptible to cross-dimensional messaging, deliberately targeted to spread destabilizing narratives."

"Great," Max sighed. "So while we're trying to build consensus to strengthen reality, the Engineers are creating counter-narratives to weaken it."

"A logical counter-strategy," Mentis acknowledged. "Though concerning that implementation began so quickly after your confrontation. Suggests contingency planning beyond what we anticipated."

Mrs. Chen picked up the flyer with surprising distaste, as if touching something contaminated. "More concerning is the pattern itself. This specific spiral configuration has memetic properties—simply viewing it repeatedly can increase susceptibility to dimensional influence."

"It's a mind-control logo?" Max asked incredulously.

"Not control," she corrected. "Suggestion. Subtle reality perception shifts that accumulate over time."

Mentis adjusted his scanning equipment. "Fascinating. The ink contains trace particles with quantum signatures matching dimensional anomaly edges. Physical exposure could potentially sensitize neural pathways to cross-dimensional frequencies."

"In English?" Max requested.

"The flyers themselves are changing how people perceive reality," Mrs. Chen simplified. "Making them more accepting of reality degradation."

Well, that was terrifying. "So what do we do? Confiscate every flyer in New Harbor?"

"Impractical," Mentis dismissed. "Counter-narrative is more efficient. The spiral must be replaced with a different symbol, one reinforcing stability rather than dissolution."

Mrs. Chen nodded in agreement. "A consensus focus point. Something already recognized and associated with protection against dimensional threats."

They both turned to look at Max—or more specifically, at the spiral symbol on his Rumor costume, which hung on a laboratory stand where Mentis had been analyzing its adaptive fabric properties.

"Wait," Max protested, "you want to use my logo as some kind of anti-cultist symbol?"

"Symmetrically appropriate," Mentis observed. "Their spiral represents convergence toward collapse. Yours represents expansion from a central point—growth rather than dissolution."

"It also has the advantage of established positive associations," Mrs. Chen added. "People already connect this symbol with successfully closing dimensional rifts."

Max couldn't argue with the logic, but something still bothered him. "If my spiral becomes a counter-symbol to theirs, won't that make me an even bigger target for the Engineers?"

"You already are their primary target," Mrs. Chen reminded him gently. "Your confrontation merely confirmed what they already knew—that Consensus Avatars represent their most significant obstacle."

"Which brings us to our more immediate concern," Mentis interjected, tapping commands into his secure terminal. "Your dual identity situation has become increasingly unstable."

A display activated, showing news coverage of "the courier hero" alongside separate footage of Rumor's previous activities. Side-by-side, the similarities in movement and fighting style were obvious to anyone looking for them.

"Charlie figured it out already," Max admitted. "And it won't be long before others do too."

"The boy's awareness is manageable," Mrs. Chen said. "His loyalty appears genuine, if opportunistic. Others would be more problematic."

"So what's the solution?" Max asked. "I can't exactly stop being either Max or Rumor right now. Both identities are part of the stability narrative."

Mentis and Mrs. Chen exchanged one of those looks that told Max they'd already discussed this without him.

"We've developed a potential strategy," Mentis began carefully. "One that preserves both identities while explaining their connection in a way that actually strengthens the consensus effect."

"I'm listening," Max said warily.

Mrs. Chen picked up the explanation. "Instead of denying a connection, we acknowledge one—but not identity. Rather, influence."

"Max Peterson, ordinary courier who demonstrated extraordinary courage against Shock, subsequently became inspired by and connected to Rumor," Mentis elaborated. "A symbolic link formed through shared purpose."

"Like a... sidekick?" Max asked incredulously.

"More a vessel," Mrs. Chen corrected. "In rare cases, Awakened individuals can extend a portion of their abilities to compatible non-powered allies. The narrative would suggest Rumor recognized your potential after the Shock incident and established such a connection."

The plan was clever, Max had to admit. It explained his occasional displays of power as Max while maintaining Rumor as a separate, fully powered hero.

"So I'd publicly be both regular courier Max who sometimes gets power boosts from his connection to Rumor, and secretly still be Rumor himself?"

"Precisely," Mentis confirmed. "The arrangement also provides tactical advantages. You could openly use limited abilities as Max in emergency situations without compromising your primary hero identity."

It was so absurd it might actually work. The sidekick to his own superhero identity. Max couldn't help laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

"Fine," he agreed. "But how do we establish this narrative? It's not like Rumor can hold a press conference to announce he's sharing powers with some random courier."

"Actually," Mentis said, with the faintest hint of what might have been a smile, "that's exactly what will happen. Though not precisely a press conference."

He activated another display, showing a map of New Harbor with several locations highlighted.

"We've identified three high-visibility anomaly sites for containment operations tomorrow. Rumor will handle the first two, establishing his continued active presence. For the third..."

"Both identities will be present," Mrs. Chen finished. "A coordinated operation where the connection between Rumor and Max Peterson is publicly demonstrated."

Max stared at them both. "How exactly do I manage to be in two places at once?"

"You don't," came a new voice from the laboratory doorway.

Max turned to see Shimmer phase through the supposedly secured door, her purple and silver uniform shimmering slightly as she solidified completely.

"Holographic projection supplements physical presence," she explained with her typical precision. "I completed the emitter adjustments based on your physical parameters."

Max blinked in surprise. "You're going to be me?"

"Incorrect," Shimmer replied, moving further into the lab. "I will be Rumor. You will be yourself. The emitter creates convincing holographic overlay that mimics your Rumor appearance and movements."

She activated a small device on her utility belt, and immediately her form shimmered and changed. Where Shimmer had stood a moment before, Rumor now appeared—an exact duplicate of Max's superhero identity, right down to the spiral symbol on the chest.

"Okay, that's creepy," Max admitted, circling the holographic duplicate. "But how does this help establish a connection between Max and Rumor? Won't people just see us as two separate people?"

"That's the point," Mrs. Chen explained. "The public sees Rumor and Max Peterson working together, establishing your connection without revealing your identical nature."

Mentis adjusted something on Shimmer's emitter, fine-tuning the holographic overlay. "During tomorrow's operation, Rumor will publicly channel power to Max, creating a visible energy transfer that explains your abilities."

"My phase-shifting technology adapted to create quantum entanglement visual effects," Shimmer added, deactivating the hologram and returning to her normal appearance. "Convincing power transfer simulation."

Max had to admit, the plan was well thought out. "And you're okay with this?" he asked Shimmer directly. "Pretending to be me while I pretend to be... well, myself getting powers from me?"

"Logical tactical solution," she replied with a slight shrug. "Identity security compromises mission effectiveness. This approach optimizes both."

Coming from Shimmer, that was practically enthusiastic endorsement.

"There's one more component," Mentis added, somewhat reluctantly. "For maximum narrative impact, the operation needs significant media coverage."

"You want to invite reporters to a dimensional anomaly containment?" Max asked incredulously.

"Controlled environment," Shimmer clarified. "Pre-contained anomaly, minimal risk factors, maximum visibility."

"We've already selected the location," Mentis said, highlighting one of the map points—Central Plaza, right in the heart of New Harbor. "Guardian teams will establish primary containment before the media arrives. Your joint appearance will be the final phase of stabilization."

It was theatrical, Max had to admit. Perfect for establishing the exact narrative they wanted to spread throughout the city.

"What if something goes wrong?" he asked, the obvious question no one seemed to be addressing. "Engineers showing up, unexpected anomaly behavior, Shimmer's hologram failing..."

"Contingencies established for seventeen potential failure scenarios," Shimmer stated matter-of-factly.

"And the Engineers?" Max pressed. "They're not going to just let us strengthen the consensus against them."

"The operation includes a Guardian security perimeter," Mentis assured him. "Any interdimensional incursion will be detected and intercepted."

Mrs. Chen's expression remained cautious. "Nevertheless, we should prepare for interference. The Engineers aren't predictable by conventional tactical models."

"We'll be ready," Max promised, though privately he wondered if anyone could truly be ready for beings that manipulated reality across dimensions.

The meeting continued with technical discussions of timing, positioning, and contingency plans. By the time they finished, it was well past midnight, and Max felt the weight of both his recent injuries and the responsibility they were placing on tomorrow's performance.

As the others finalized equipment preparations, Mrs. Chen drew Max aside.

"There's something else you should consider," she said quietly. "About your courier colleague, Charlie."

"He's not a colleague exactly," Max clarified. "More like... an informant? Ally?"

"Regardless of terminology, his awareness of your dual identity creates both vulnerability and opportunity." Her expression grew unusually serious. "Children often see truth more clearly than adults. Their belief carries disproportionate weight in consensus systems."

Max frowned, trying to follow her meaning. "You're saying Charlie's belief in me matters more than adults believing in me?"

"Simplified, but essentially correct. Children's perspectives lack the filtering skepticism of adulthood. Their consensus connection is more... direct."

"So having Charlie on my side is actually a good thing for the whole 'strengthen reality through belief' plan?"

Mrs. Chen nodded. "Potentially very valuable. However—" her eyes held a warning, "—it also makes him a target. If the Engineers identify his connection to you..."

The implication sent a chill through Max. "I'll protect him."

"See that you do," Mrs. Chen said softly. "In my world, those who believed most strongly were often the first targeted when consensus manipulation began in earnest."

The ominous statement hung in the air between them, adding yet another worry to Max's growing collection.

---

Morning brought chaos at Harbor News as Mr. Donovan reorganized assignments to cover what Guardian public relations was calling a "major anomaly containment demonstration" at Central Plaza.

"Peterson!" he bellowed across the newsroom. "Front and center!"

Max hurried over, trying to look appropriately confused despite having helped plan the very event causing such excitement.

"Sir?"

"Guardian liaison called. They're requesting you specifically at the Plaza demonstration." Mr. Donovan's bushy eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. "Care to explain why?"

Max put on his best innocent expression. "No idea, sir. Maybe because of what happened at the press conference?"

"Hmm." Mr. Donovan didn't look entirely convinced. "Well, whatever the reason, you'll be there. But not as a participant—as our reporter."

"What?" Max definitely hadn't planned for this complication. "But I'm not a journalist. I deliver the news, I don't write it."

"Today you do both," his boss declared, handing him a press credential and a recording device. "Every other reporter in the city will be covering this. Harbor News needs an edge—someone with personal experience facing these dimensional whatsits."

"But I don't know the first thing about writing news stories," Max protested.

"You know how to observe and describe what you see, don't you?" Mr. Donovan countered. "That's all journalism is at its core. Besides, Taylor will clean up your notes for the final piece."

This was a disaster. How was he supposed to maintain his cover story if he was expected to be reporting on himself? But refusing would only raise more suspicions.

"Yes, sir," Max reluctantly agreed. "I'll do my best."

"That's the spirit!" Mr. Donovan clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. "Now get moving. Show starts in two hours, and I want you there early for background."

As Max headed for the door, a familiar voice called out. "Hey, Peterson! Wait up!"

Charlie jogged over, looking unusually clean and professionally dressed in what appeared to be new clothes—still threadbare by normal standards, but a significant upgrade from his usual attire.

"What's with the new look?" Max asked.

Charlie grinned proudly. "Mr. Donovan hired me! Junior assistant to the photography department. I'm coming with you to the Plaza."

"He what?" Max looked back at his boss, who shrugged unrepentantly.

"Kid's got a good eye and gets into places adults can't," Mr. Donovan explained. "Plus he works for half what the regular photographers demand. It's called business, Peterson."

Just perfect. Not only did Max have to report on himself, but he'd have to do it with Charlie watching his every move. The kid already suspected his secret—seeing both Max and "Rumor" together might either confirm or dispel those suspicions, depending on how convincing Shimmer's performance turned out to be.

"Fine," Max sighed. "Let's go, junior assistant photographer."

Charlie beamed, patting a battered but functional camera hanging around his neck. "This is gonna be great! Maybe we'll see some real action, like last time!"

"Let's hope not," Max muttered as they headed out. "For once, I'd like things to go according to plan."

---

Central Plaza was already packed when they arrived. Guardian security had established a perimeter around a contained dimensional anomaly at the center of the open space—a shimmering distortion about six feet in diameter, hovering three feet above the decorative fountain. Unlike the wild, unstable rifts Max had encountered previously, this one pulsed with steady, controlled energy inside a sophisticated containment field.

"That's different from the ones I've seen before," Max observed, genuinely curious despite knowing the basics of the plan. "More... stable?"

"Controlled dormancy state," explained a Guardian technician checking monitoring equipment nearby. "We've developed methods to maintain anomalies in non-expanding conditions for study purposes."

Charlie was already snapping photos, somehow slipping past the press barriers for better angles before security could stop him. The kid moved like smoke when he wanted to.

Media crews from every New Harbor outlet had set up positions around the plaza, cameras and equipment focused on the anomaly and the Guardian personnel monitoring it. Max noticed several familiar faces among the journalists, including veteran reporters who normally wouldn't cover what was essentially a technical demonstration.

Something was off. The Guardian PR team had billed this as an educational event about anomaly containment—important but not headline news. Yet the media presence suggested expectations of something more significant.

"They know," Max realized suddenly. Someone had leaked information about Rumor's planned appearance, turning a technical briefing into a major story.

His suspicion was confirmed moments later when Lumina appeared, accompanied by Blockade and Velocity. The crowd's excitement visibly intensified—Guardian leadership didn't assemble for routine demonstrations.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lumina addressed the gathered press, her voice carrying clearly across the plaza. "Thank you for joining us for this important public briefing on dimensional anomaly containment progress."

She proceeded to outline recent developments in stabilization technology, the decreasing frequency of new anomalies, and improved response times—all part of the carefully crafted narrative developed with Mrs. Chen and Mentis.

Max used the opportunity to scan the crowd, looking for anything unusual. Guardian security was visible at all entry points, and Shimmer was presumably nearby in stealth mode, waiting for her cue to appear as Rumor. Everything seemed to be proceeding according to plan.

Too perfectly, perhaps. Max had developed an instinct for trouble, and something about the situation made his skin prickle with unease.

He spotted Charlie on the opposite side of the plaza, somehow having made his way to a raised position on a maintenance platform that offered an excellent vantage point. The kid gave him a thumbs-up and pointed excitedly toward the eastern entrance.

Following Charlie's gesture, Max saw what had caught his attention—a small group of people at the edge of the crowd, wearing ordinary clothes but standing with unusual stillness. Each wore a small spiral pin that caught the light with an unnatural shimmer.

The Convergence. The dimensional cult from the flyers. They weren't supposed to be here—at least, not in the plans Max had been briefed on.

He needed to alert Guardian security without causing a panic. Max began moving casually toward the nearest security officer, keeping his eyes on the suspicious group.

That's when he noticed something else—a familiar pattern of movement among the regular security personnel. Three guards moving with mechanical precision, maintaining perfect spacing between them as they repositioned around the plaza.

Disguised Engineers, just like at the press conference.

Before Max could warn anyone, Lumina concluded her remarks and made the announcement they'd been building toward.

"As part of our ongoing anomaly response enhancements, we're pleased to introduce a significant new dimension to our capabilities. Many of you have seen reports of the independent hero known as Rumor, who has assisted with containment operations. Today, Rumor has agreed to demonstrate advanced stabilization techniques in partnership with Guardian resources."

On cue, a figure in navy blue with the distinctive spiral symbol appeared from behind the containment equipment. Shimmer's holographic Rumor impression was flawless—the stance, the movement style, even the slight flourish as "Rumor" acknowledged the crowd's excited reaction.

The plan was proceeding perfectly. Now came Max's part—the reveal of his "connection" to Rumor that would explain his occasional displays of power while maintaining their separate identities.

But the disguised Engineers and cult members changed everything. This carefully controlled demonstration was about to become something else entirely.

Max had seconds to decide—proceed with the plan or warn Lumina about the infiltrators. Before he could choose, the decision was made for him.

The contained anomaly suddenly pulsed with unprecedented energy, the supposedly stable rift expanding against its containment field. Guardian technicians rushed to adjust settings as alarms blared from monitoring equipment.

"Containment fluctuation!" one technician shouted. "Energy readings spiking beyond controlled parameters!"

Lumina immediately shifted from public relations to crisis response. "All civilians behind safety barriers! Guardian personnel, primary containment protocols!"

The crowd backed away in growing panic as the anomaly's pulsing intensified. The containment field visibly strained, energy crackling around its edges.

The three disguised Engineers moved in perfect synchronization, pulling small devices from beneath their uniforms and activating them simultaneously. Energy beams shot from the devices, not toward the anomaly as Max expected, but into the ground at equidistant points around the plaza.

"Triangulation anchors!" Shimmer's voice came through Max's concealed communicator. "They're establishing a stability override pattern!"

The cult members began chanting in unison, their spiral pins glowing with the same energy signature as the anomaly. Whatever they were doing was clearly affecting the rift, which expanded further, cracking the containment field in multiple places.

"Rumor" moved toward the destabilizing anomaly, maintaining the illusion that Shimmer was the hero while Max was still just a reporter in the crowd. But with actual Engineers present, the charade seemed increasingly pointless.

Making a split-second decision, Max activated his own communicator. "Engineers present, proceeding with counter-measures. Maintain Rumor presence for continuity."

Without waiting for a response, Max vaulted over the press barrier and sprinted toward the nearest Engineer. His movement immediately drew attention—a reporter abandoning safety to charge toward danger.

"Peterson!" Lumina shouted, spotting him. "Get back behind the barrier!"

Max ignored her, focusing on the Engineer deploying the triangulation anchor. Drawing on his enhanced strength—now fully stabilized thanks to growing public belief in his abilities—he tackled the disguised entity with enough force to send them both skidding across the plaza floor.

The Engineer's human disguise flickered as they grappled, revealing glimpses of the black armor and energy lines beneath. Unlike the previous confrontation, Max wasn't caught unprepared this time. He fought with practiced precision, targeting the weak points in the Engineer's armor that he'd discovered during their rooftop battle.

Across the plaza, "Rumor" was engaged with stabilizing the anomaly, Shimmer's holographic disguise maintaining the illusion while her phase-shifting technology created impressive visual effects of energy manipulation.

The gathered reporters had gone from frightened to frantically documenting everything—cameras capturing both Max fighting an increasingly visible Engineer and Rumor battling the dimensional rift.

"The containment field is failing!" a Guardian technician shouted as cracks spread across the energy barrier.

The two remaining Engineers abandoned their anchors, converging on "Rumor" in coordinated attack formation. They clearly recognized the holographic hero as their primary threat—exactly as planned, but under far more dangerous circumstances than intended.

Max needed to complete the narrative they'd constructed—establishing his connection to Rumor while maintaining their separate identities—but the original choreographed demonstration was impossible now.

Time for improvisation.

"Rumor!" he shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I need the boost!"

"Rumor" turned toward Max, understanding immediately. Shimmer directed the hologram to extend a hand, generating a dramatic stream of energy that flowed across the plaza and enveloped Max in spectacular fashion.

The "power transfer" was mostly visual effects, but the timing was perfect. As the energy surrounded him, Max activated his phase-shifting ability—normally invisible until used, but now made visibly dramatic by Shimmer's technology.

His body partially dematerialized, taking on the distinctive translucent appearance associated with phase-shifting. To the watching crowd and cameras, it appeared that Rumor had indeed shared power with the courier who had previously shown unexplained abilities.

"Peterson is Rumor's conduit!" someone shouted from the press section, instantly creating the exact narrative they'd planned.

Max didn't waste the moment. Using his now "officially granted" phase-shifting, he charged the Engineer he'd been fighting, passing partially through their armor to disrupt the internal systems. The entity sparked and shuddered, its disguise failing completely as its systems malfunctioned.

Meanwhile, the cult members had formed a circle around the anomaly, their chanting reaching a crescendo. The spiral pins they wore pulsed in unison, somehow resonating with the rift's unstable energy.

"They're trying to convert it to a transit portal!" Shimmer reported through the comm. "Full Engineer incursion potential!"

Lumina and Blockade had engaged the other two Engineers, but the cult members remained untouched, protected by some kind of energy barrier generated by their combined chanting.

Max finished disabling his Engineer and sprinted toward the cultists, phase-shifting through their barrier. Inside the circle, the energy was disorienting—reality itself seeming to warp and bend around him.

The containment field finally shattered completely, the anomaly expanding in a violent surge. "Rumor" leapt into action, the hologram performing an impressive display of power as Shimmer used her actual abilities to attempt recontainment.

This was their moment—the planned demonstration of Rumor and Max working together that would cement their connection in public perception. Despite the chaos, the core narrative remained viable.

"On my mark!" Max shouted to "Rumor," positioning himself on the opposite side of the anomaly from the holographic hero.

"Rumor" nodded, and together they executed the synchronized containment technique they'd rehearsed—Max using his phase-disruption approach from one side while the hologram mirrored his movements from the other.

The visual was perfect—courier and hero, connected by shared power, working in tandem to save the plaza. Cameras captured everything, creating exactly the image they needed for the consensus effect Mrs. Chen had described.

With Shimmer's actual abilities supplementing Max's efforts, the anomaly began to stabilize, collapsing inward as the cult members' chanting faltered.

Victory seemed within reach when a new complication arose—the ground beneath the plaza cracked open, revealing a network of energy lines identical to those on the Engineers' armor. The patterns spread outward from the triangulation anchors, connecting with the cultists' spiral pins.

"Reality anchor points compromised," Shimmer reported urgently. "Plaza dimensional stability degrading rapidly."

The implications were horrifying. The Engineers hadn't just come to disrupt their demonstration—they'd selected this location specifically because it contained some kind of pre-existing network beneath the plaza itself.

"Full evacuation!" Lumina ordered as the cracks widened. "All personnel and civilians, clear the area immediately!"

Max made a desperate decision. "Keep the narrative intact," he told Shimmer through the comm. "I'm going off-script."

Before she could object, Max fully phase-shifted and dove into the expanding crack, following the energy lines to their source. If the Engineers had built something beneath the plaza, he needed to find and disable it before the entire area became a permanent dimensional weak point.

The last thing he heard before descending into the network was Charlie's voice, somehow having gotten close enough to be heard above the chaos.

"That's it, Max! Show 'em what a real hero does!"

At least the kid believed in him. Max just hoped he wasn't about to discover exactly how out of his depth he really was.