“I… my arm,” Wanton said, lamely.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor responded.
“No, it’s like… I should feel worse, but I don’t. Maybe it’s the drugs, but I feel this rush, like I’ve never been so glad to be alive. I’m pumped.”
“You may be in shock,” the doctor observed.
“We’re all in shock,” Tecton said.
There were murmurs of agreement across the helicopter.
“Is anyone else a little freaked out?” Cuff asked.
“Freaked out?” the doctor asked.
Cuff shook her head, not responding. Her attention had shifted to her arm, as the doctor bound it.
Tecton ventured a reply instead. “I think I understand what Cuff means. It’s hard to believe he’s gone. It’s like, you’re five years old, and Leviathan appears for the first time, and your parents have to explain that a bunch of people died, and it’s because of these monsters and yet nobody has figured out why.”
“Yeah,” Cuff said. “What happens next? Leviathan or the Simurgh? We kill them? Stop them from blowing up or doing their version of blowing up? I can’t really imagine that we’d beat them, give our all and hope that Scion shows up and fights like that again, kill them, and then have everything be okay.”
“You just got powers, barely a month ago, and you’re already this grim?” Wanton asked.
“I’ve been dealing with the aftermath of the Endbringer attacks for a while,” Cuff said. Her eyes were on the floor, and an expression of pain crossed her face as the doctor cut away a tag of burned skin on her shoulder. The scar was like a snowflake carved into the skin’s surface, angry and red. Her arm seemed to tremble involuntarily.
“It’s okay to worry,” Tecton said. He gestured towards Weaver. “Weaver said as much. They’ve got a nasty habit of escalating, in the fights themselves and in the grand scheme of things. Behemoth got too predictable, so Leviathan started to show up. We started to coordinate defenses, get the world on board to deal with them, Simurgh comes.”
“And now we killed one, so how do they escalate from there?” Grace asked.
“It’s a concern,” Tecton said, “And it’s one that people all around the world are going to be discussing. Rely on them. Don’t take the full weight of the world onto your shoulders. We fought, you guys made a good show of it,” Tecton said.
“I could’ve done more,” Cuff said.
“You’re new. Inexperienced, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. As far as jumping in with both feet first, you guys managed it. You, Golem, Annex, you stood up there, shoulder to shoulder with veteran heroes, and you fought, even though you’re rookies. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, okay?”
Cuff didn’t reply.
“Okay?” Tecton asked.
“When my family got killed in Hawaii, I made promises to myself. It’s why I came. I don’t feel like I did enough, to fulfill my own end of those promises.”
“There’s always next time,” Tecton said.
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Wanton said.
“Yeah. Shit,” Grace muttered. “It’s not quite over yet, right?”
“Right,” Tecton said. “But there’s time before the next one. Let people in the know handle the worrying. We did everything we could. Now we recuperate. We celebrate, because was deserve to. We take the time to heal.”
In response to the glances cast his way, Wanton waved his stump around. “Going to take getting used to. Getting dressed, eating…”
He moved the stump in the direction of his lap, jerked it up and down.
Cuff looked and squeaked in embarrassment before averting her eyes.
“…writing,” Wanton finished, a goofy smile on his face.
“Your handwriting must be awful,” Golem said.
There were chuckles here and there from among the group. Even the nurse tending to Cuff smiled.
“We did good,” Tecton said. “And some people will recognize that. Others are gonna see all the bad that happened in New Delhi and point fingers. Be ready in case you fall under the crosshairs.”
There were nods from the rest of the Chicago Wards.
Tecton glanced at Weaver, then back to his team. “What do you think?”
“You have to ask?” Grace asked.
“You weren’t keen at the idea at first,” Tecton replied.
“I’m still not, not a hundred percent. But whatever little doubts I have, it’s kind of a no-brainer.”
“Yep,” Wanton said.
“Golem?” Tecton asked. “Have you even talked to her about it?”
“I’m a little scared to,” the boy said. “I mean…”
He glanced at the doctor.
“Everything here is confidential,” Tecton said.
“Well, given my past, the people I was with before I came here, I’m worried there’s hard feelings. They were in the same city. I don’t know what exactly happened. What if one of them did something to Weaver or her friends? Is she the type to hold a grudge?”
“Going by what apparently happened in Brockton Bay,” Wanton said, “Not so much. If she has a reason to hold a grudge, you don’t tend to live very long.”
Golem frowned.
“You’re not being helpful, Wanton. Or fair to Weaver,” Tecton said.
“I’m suffering, Tec,” Wanton said, making the words into an exaggerated groan.
Tecton shook his head, turning to Golem. “Tell her. Explain your circumstances, let her know you’re from the same city, that you don’t share your family’s ideology.”
“The name should say as much,” Golem said.
Tecton nodded. He drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. The adrenaline was burning off, and with it, a deep exhaustion was settling in.
He looked at Weaver, where she sat at the far end of the bench. Her old teammate had insisted on coming with her, along with a small cluster of dogs. They’d fallen asleep within two minutes of takeoff. Weaver had been first, her head leaning against her friend’s shoulder. Her friend had been next to drift off, a dog in her lap, others lying underneath the bench.
“We’ll talk to the bosses,” Tecton said. “See about taking Weaver onto the team.”
■
How was this supposed to work?
“Door me,” Pretender said.
A light sliced across the floor of the alleyway, three feet across. When it had reached its full length, it began thickening, raising up until the portal was a full four by seven feet. There was a long white hallway on the other side.
Carefully, he stepped through, with legs that weren’t his own.
“Pretender.”
He stopped, then turned around. “Satyr.”
“You don’t have to go with them,” Satyrical said.
“I think today proved I do.”
“And everything we were working on? Everything we were working towards?”
“I talked to some powerful people. People behind the scenes we’ve barely heard of,” Pretender replied. “What we were working on in Vegas doesn’t even compare. Small potatoes.”
“Doesn’t feel like small potatoes. What’s so important that you’d run off?”
Pretender frowned, an expression hidden by the helmet he wore.
“You can talk to me. You know I can keep secrets. Or are you talking about the Endbringers? I think today showed they can deal with Endbringers on their own,” Satyr said.
“It’s bigger things. Bigger than Endbringers,” Pretender answered. “End of the world.”
Satyrical sighed. “Of course it is.”
“I’ll help you with the little things, when I have the time. We have resources, and maybe we can use you guys.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Satyr said. He approached Pretender, extending a hand.
Pretender shook, gingerly, unsure of the full extent of Alexandria’s enhanced strength.
Satyr held on to the hand, caressing it. “They say you should marry your best friend, and now
that you’re a woman…”
Pretender chuckled a little before withdrawing his hand from Satyr’s. “That line again? I don’t think that’s what they meant.”
“She’s yours for keeps?”
“Brain dead. Her body’s peculiar. Doesn’t really age. Hair doesn’t grow, nails don’t grow. Wounds don’t really heal or get worse. She used cosmetics to look older, to throw people off. Only the brain was left pliable, adaptable. Even then, most of it was hardened, protected, those duties offloaded to her agent.”
Satyr studied Pretender’s new body without shame. His eyes rested on Pretender’s forehead. “I see. And with that plasticity, the brain was left more vulnerable.”
“Only a little. Enough to be an Achilles heel. She’s a case fifty-three, I suppose. All of us may be.”
“All Cauldron capes?”
Pretender nodded. “To some degree or another.”
Satyr seemed to take that into consideration, rubbing his chin. When he spoke, though, he spoke of something else. “What you did… you knew that they’d figured you out, and that I was next in line, that I’d get questioned too. You killed her for my sake, to buy me time.”
“Are you mad?”
Satyr shook his head. “We’ve killed before. Selfishly, selflessly. Only difference is you got caught.”
“Well, I got away.”
“In a fashion, yes. You got away,” Satyr said. “You’ve even reached a higher position in life.”
“Wearing someone else’s skin, living their life,” Pretender replied.
“Yes, well, that was always going to be your fate, wasn’t it?”
Pretender chuckled. “I’ve missed you, buddy.”
“Likewise, you freak of nature,” Satyr responded.
“Just because we’re doing different things now, it doesn’t mean goodbye.”
“Good.”
“We stay in touch,” Pretender said. “I’m sure my new group can use you, and you can draw on our resources, I’m sure. Our goals are more or less aligned. Only difference is scale.”
“Well then. Good luck with saving the world.”
“And good luck with saving civilization from itself,” Pretender answered. He looked skyward for a moment. “Close the door.”
The portal closed.
■
Connecting to “agChat.ParahumansOnline016.par:6667″ (Attempt 1 of 55)
Resolving Host Name
Connecting…
Connected.
Using identity “Iblis”, nick “Iblis”
Welcome to Parahumans Online Chatroom #116, ‘The Holdout’. Rules Here. Behave. Obey the @s.
Ryus: shorthand for seismic activity. earthquakes.
Kriketz: any word on deaths yet
Divide: No word on deaths. This is Behemoth. It’s normal to see a radio silence like this.
Divide: They can’t report deaths because the armbands get knocked out.
Spiritskin: Hi Iblis!
Iblis: Word is first capes are returning home.
Aloha: !
Loyal: Who? Who? Names!
Deimos: how is new delhi?
@Deadman@: I’m in contact with main channel, can pass on details if you can verify.
@Deadman@: PM me.
Iblis: Loyal – Not sure.
Iblis: Deimos – City hit bad.
Iblis: Deadman – Not sure how to verify. Only have texts on phone. Sending PM.
Poit: they made it
BadSamurai: how bad?
Ultracut: Poit nobodys saying they amde it
Poit: they stopped him or they wouldn’t be leaving
Deimos: Nooooooo! new delhi hit bad?
Aloha: X(
Iblis: Texts I’m getting from cape-wife friend are saying Scion finished Behemoth off.
Iblis: Absolute annihilation.
QwertyD: Troll
Groupies: no fucking way
Aloha: O_o
Deimos is now known as Absolute Annihiliation
@Deadman@: Verify now or ban.
Absolute Annihilation: fuck yea Scion!
Arcee: Omg wat?
Iblis: sending PM with texts.
■
Colin shifted his weight restlessly, watching the screens.
There was a process, he knew. He’d been filled in on the details, forewarned. That didn’t make this any easier.
Too many years he’d spent alone. Too many years, he’d had nothing to care about. Nothing and nobody to hold precious. A dad who worked two jobs, a mother who traveled. They’d divorced, and virtually nothing had changed in the grand scheme of things. They’d looked after him, but they hadn’t been there. They had been occupied with other things, with dreams and aspirations that had never included him.
Colin knew he had been the weird child. Had never made friends, had convinced himself he didn’t want or need them. He was efficient in how solitary he was.
He’d even prided himself on it, for a time, that there was nothing to hold him back. That he could, should the mood strike him, pick up and leave at any time. He’d modeled his life around it, had led a spare existence, devoid of the little touches of home, of roots. He’d saved money so he had the ability to travel, to get a new place in a new city if the mood struck. It had even been an asset when he had joined the Protectorate, the ability to relocate, take any open position.
It was only now, a full fifteen years later, that he started to wonder what he’d missed out on. Did most people know how to handle this sort of thing? The absence of someone they cared about? Did they have an easier time handling the moments when they weren’t sure if they’d ever see those people again, or was it harder?
He’d altered Dragon’s code. It wasn’t a tidy thing. Tinker work rarely was. There were too many factors to consider, and a tinker who didn’t specialize in a particular area would never be able to plumb the depths. Too many things connected to other things, and the full extent of the connections was impossible to fathom in entirety.
At best, he could study each alteration as much as was possible, act in ways that could minimize the damage.
Every adjustment, even on the smallest levels, threatened to damage a dozen, a hundred other areas.
And now he would find out if Dragon’s backup would restore properly.
Error: Temporal Modelling Node 08 has failed to load. Attempting child routines to bridge.
Error: Horospectral Analysis Node 1119 has failed to load. Attempting child routines to bridge…
Successful Load: Circadian Checkmatch Node ER089. Require 2/3 more stable child routines for acceptable bridge.
Error: Metrological Chronostic Node Q1118 has failed to load. Attempting child routines to bridge…
Error: Stimuli Tracking Node FQ has failed to load. Attempting child routines to bridge.
Successful Load: Orientation Patch Node FQ02903. Require 3/3 stable child routines for acceptable bridge.
Error: Parietal Space Node FQ161178 has failed to load. Attempting child routines to bridge…
Error: Recognition Demesnes Node FQ299639 has failed to load. Attempting child routines to bridge…
He pulled off his helmet, setting it on the bench beneath the monitor. He rubbed one hand across his head. He’d taken to shaving it close, in part for the efficiency of it, in part because the surgeries to replace his eye and the implants he’d set into recesses in his skull had required incisions in his scalp. Dragon had handled that.
His fingers traced the faint, almost imperceptible scars that ran neatly across the sides and top of his head. Marks she’d left him.
More errors appeared on the screen. The estimated time of a successful backup clicked upwards with each one. Two hours. Three hours. Six hours.
At the same time, in Colin’s head, the odds of a successful load were going down. Twenty-five percent. Twenty three. Fifteen.
There were other backups. He suspected the ones that had been uploaded after his tampering would run into the same issues. The same errors.<
br />
The ones before? Before he’d altered anything? It would be a different Dragon than the one he’d come to know. She would watch the video feeds, listen to the tapes, even experience some of those things for herself, where the system had taken it all online. But she wouldn’t be the same Dragon he knew. The organic A.I. architecture would develop in different ways, with different nuances. So many things connected to so many other things with each new experience, and the connections would occur in a different fashion.
No, he realized. Even worse. He would have to head her off before she got access to the data. If he had to load that backup, he would be loading her as she was before he freed her of the PRT’s shackles. She would be obligated to fight him. He’d managed a sneak attack the first time. The second? She’d see what he did, force him to try another means.
And he’d have to be more ruthless, knowing he was doing harm to her, injuring her to her core.
He couldn’t bear to watch further. It was too soon to try another backup, both in terms of the system’s ability to handle the task and his own ability. But sitting here, watching the list of errors grow, it was angering him, and it was an anger without a focus.
Touching two fingers to his lips, Colin moved those fingers to the monitor’s frame, pressing them there. The gesture was sentimental enough it felt unlike him, somehow false. Doing nothing would feel wrong too.
That was his current state, stranded inside his own head, in the midst of his own feelings.
Uncharted territory, in a way.
He pulled on his helmet and stepped outside, and hopped up onto the nose of the Tiamat II.
New Delhi loomed before him. Ruined, damaged, impossible to recover. The sun was only now setting, and the sky was red, mingling with the traces of clouds that still remained in the sky.
He wanted to contact Chevalier, to know that his friend was okay, that the Protectorate was okay. He didn’t trust himself to stay calm, to keep from saying something about Dragon, from venting, being emotional.
Chevalier would understand, he suspected. But Colin’s masculinity would take a hit, and it would only cause more trouble than it fixed.
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