Phantoms danced around both of them, dragging their tattered remains along the ground in the hope that they could come back from this. Beams of green energy were streaking across the smoking horizon, but they were not Laserman’s. How he wished they were from Laserman right now. This would’ve been so much easier, if he was still alive. So much cleaner.

”I warned you,” Thunk. A throwing knife flew from Grandmaster’s fingers, sinking through Confessor’s hand and impaling it to the ruined car he slumped against. The villain screamed, his voice strained, and he looked the old hero in the eyes through that idiotic mask of his.

His eyes went down to the road, but he did not need to see Grandmaster to know the weight of his hate. ”You never scared me, you don’t scare me now. You’ve always been a snake, and you always will be! Killing me won’t bring her b-”

There was not enough time for Confessor to blink before a sword was pulled from its scabbard to split his chest wide open. Blood sprayed him from torn veins and arteries, and yet Grandmaster was cold. Clinical, in his application of the swing. He wanted to see this wretched bastard, this maggot bleed slowly. Wisdom flowed from his mind, down through his hand and into his sword from unseen places, telling him exactly where to place his next strike for the cleanest kill; An afterimage, yet to happen and waiting. But he did not. He simply pointed the sword down at Confessor’s throat, the slightest movement would break the skin. One flick of his wrist, and everything would be over. Blood pooled around the villain. Deep down, Confessor knew that Grandmaster was drawing this out, but he wasn’t stupid. He was always the smarter one.

Confessor jerked his impaled hand, hoping it would dislodge the knife. But it only tore the otherwise perfectly sealed wound, adding to the puddle of blood.

”Laserman,” He flicked his sword downwards, and split open Confessor’s collarbone. He screamed again, quieter.

”Karnstein,” His shoulder.

”Nomad,” His jaw.

”Rimerunner, Savant, Bastion!” He stabbed the sword into Confessor’s weak body, puncturing his lungs and liver without aiming. One wound for all five of the deceased Wards. He kept going, slashing open wound after wound, until the number accounted for the other thirteen heroes lost in this battle.

”All dead. All of their families left to grieve, because of you.”

Confessor was bleeding like a stuck pig, and all of his phantoms could only helplessly watch their master’s life slip away. There were over 40 of them littering the street, and Grandmaster carved each and every one of them up like Christmas dinners. Confessor coughed up blood, staring at his soon-to-be murderer with blank, glazed eyes. Scar tissue mottled his face, standing out over warm brown skin. Hellstar got him good a few days ago, and he had been rendered blind ever since. It was a damn shame, too. He had hoped, even at this point, that the last thing he’d get to see was Grandmaster's face.

”You know they’ll… You-” Blood caught in his throat, he spat it up over Grandmaster’s shoes.

”They’ll never see you the same way. They’ll… Know about you, one day. It’s your turn now, Ramon. Isaac will find you.”

”The only thing he will find, Confessor, is your corpse on his doorstep. This is the end, I am never coming back.”

Grandmaster raised his sword overhead, and let out all of his rage with one more swing.

”You should have stayed in Arizona, little brother.”

---

PRT Headquarters, 8:37AM
June 19, 2021

Director Valerie Foster strode through the public section of the PRT HQ. It was connected to her office in a wraparound construction, so she could see from her office window that a small crowd was forming out front. News reporters and journalists looking to get a glimpse of the newest heroes. Little did any of them know that none of the kids were even in the same building at the moment. It was currently 8am, and the building had been closed to give the illusion that something important was happening here. It was entirely unnecessary, since they were all meeting in the Protectorate building, and absolutely no one could show up there unless granted special access. This, however, was done intentionally to give the press something positive to latch on. She knew, better than most in this godforsaken city, that it was so much easier to make progress when people believed in the good of that progress. When they wanted it.

She stopped, straightened her tie and ensured her gloves were on tight. No one knew why the director wore them, but the incredibly soft material, black as ink, seemed to match well with her charcoal three-piece suit. She was the definition of professional. And so, as a professional, she approached the journalists and the camera-toting press. Immediately, she was flagged down, put on the spot and questioned. Where are the Wards? Are they forming their team today? Is Tandem keeping her identity public? All manners of questions that were either curveballs to wring out extra information, invasive, or simply innocent came forth. And the director embraced all of them.

”I am afraid that I can’t answer many questions. At the moment, the Wards are preparing for their first assignment as the next generation of heroes. There will be plenty of time to speak with them once they’ve had the opportunity to adjust to their new lives.” For one or two, this wasn’t as new as the director was describing, but it was bad form to talk about their experience working outside the PRT’s jurisdiction.

“Is it true that the Wards have a mind controller on their team?” Someone in the crowd asked.

Director Foster offered the young man who put the question forth a rare smile. ”Mind control is a rumor, thankfully. No, the Ward known as Ethos does not manipulate the minds of others. She simply allows them to see the error of their ways.” A flowery, polite way to describe the manipulation of one’s moral compass.

“How will the PRT contend with the backlash from reinstating child soldiers?” Another, older man with a certain tone in his voice proposed a rather loaded question. An anti-caper, she assumed. He went low, so she went high.

”There is a misconception among the public that the Protectorate trains children to be soldiers, to fight wars, the Endbringers and so on. What we do here, is train them to use their powers responsibly, to set an example for future generations. To inspire their generation to reach out in their most vulnerable moments. And for that, I believe wholeheartedly that we simply won’t receive backlash.”

“Even after the last Wards team disbanded?” A woman with a notebook asked, “Many people still remember the deaths from Confessor’s rampage. And no one could forget what happened to Karnstein…”

Everyone in the crowd fell silent for a moment. Karnstein’s death was particularly grizzly. The man who asked that accustational question even had the common sense to feel guilty. Valerie read the room, and simply nodded. ”We all remember what Confessor did to us. We’ve all had someone taken from us by his attack. But Karnstein laid her life down to save others. She wanted this city to live on, and I know that wherever she is now, she’s smiling.”

That seemed to satisfy them all. The best part was that she didn’t have to lie about it.

---

Protectorate Headquarters, 8:42AM

While Director Foster worked a crowed, the real business was happening one building over. The Wards were given directions and an order to be here at their central meeting room at 8:45 in the morning, in their new gear, with the special access credentials they were issued to get in the building. Their meeting place was a large, spacious area with white walls and one-way windows that overlooked the entire complex. Massive computer screens were available for multiple people to work with at a time, along with chairs and a couch or two. The opposite wall held a large flatscreen tv, and all the cool consoles that the kids played with these days. That was Axiom's idea. Doors led out into a hall that connected to their living spaces, as well as a decently sized kitchen they could eat in. The Ward's wing of the building was built to house them indefinitely, as several of them had home situations that were less than sufficient.

Special consideration had been given to accommodate the powers of Richter, Shattercrash and Watson. The walls were made with a special tinker-made compound that absorbed 100% of any impacts, while behaving like containment foam for anyone who was on the inside. The Wards, were, of course, not explicitly made aware of this. After all, why would they be in the walls?

The Protectorate's best were lined up here. Nightstalker, the case 53 with purple skin, green eyes and a long cape of prehensile flesh, couldn’t help but smile. Axiom, the physics-shattering tinker, had climbed out of her suit and was down to her more mobile costume, a black and purple jumpsuit lined with glowing energy, and a cybernetic helmet that made her look like an astronaut.

And of course, the leader of them stood ramrod straight with his hands folded behind his back. His costume was different from the other two. Nightstalker simply wore body armor, and Axiom looked ready to go to space, but Grandmaster wore a simply white suit, with a gray undershirt, black tie, and a slightly unsettling mask adorned with a crown. At his waist were two swords sheathed away, and a more perceptive person could see a roll of throwing knives tucked under his sleeve.

”They’ll be here any minute now. I hope they’re ready,” Axiom said, through her helmet’s radio.

”Of course they are,” Nightstalker croaked, in an inhumanly deep voice. ”They’re trained for this now, and we’re working with them. They’ll do fine, I’m sure.”

”Indeed they will. Our city needs it.” Grandmaster waited, patiently, for the first Ward to walk in. The Vice Director was supposed to be here by now. It didn't look good if he got here after the children did.

Any second now...

PRT HQ Ward Quarters, 8:42AM
June 19, 2021

---

The lock body shifted slightly under the sudden change in weight, its core suddenly appearing next to it – shunted there in an instant as its former location was occupied by a small tungsten cylinder. A moment later with nothing to hold it in place, the cylinder too slid out of the lock body.

Ashley – the Ashley that had just used her power to dismantle a lock – gave a self-satisfied nod towards her handiwork, even as another instance of herself branched off from her, briefly popping into existence within arm’s reach of the lock parts to collect them and the conjured cylinder, before popping back out of reality as fast as she’d come. She’d been getting more accurate with that trick, faster too, which in Ashley's mind was as good a reason as any to get excited, even if she didn’t think it was likely this particular trick would ever come in handy – she already had plenty of ways to bypass locks after all, ways that were both quicker and easier, and the need to quickly dismantle a lock from range didn’t seem all that likely to come up.

In any case, it could never hurt to have more tricks up her sleeve. Something being unlikely to happen was different from something being unable to happen, and for all she knew, something about this one trick could save her arse someday. Besides, it wasn’t like she wasn’t working on other things; annoying restrictions aside, if there was one advantage to having joined the Wards, it was the access to resources she now enjoyed. Ball bearings, caltrops, lubricants, ropes, collapsible spike strips, the list went on.

It wasn’t perfect, they were dragging their feet on Ashley’s requests for containment foam, and they’d flat-out rejected her requests for cannonballs and explosives, even after she’d told them she didn’t plan to use them – were the heroes incapable of understanding the concept of preparedness? What if another threat like Confessor showed up, or there was an Endbringer attack, or Collateral returned to Bridgewater?

The only reason Ashley wasn’t working on one of the more useful new possibilities that had opened up to her right now, was that the Protectorate got weird about it whenever she tried to use the training facilities without supervision or had to wake someone up to watch her, and they got really weird about it whenever she suggested she just go practice outside if the training facilities were off limits. Speaking of…

Across the room, another instance of Ashley glanced down to look at the mobile phone that had appeared in her hand. 12:59… that didn’t seem right. Pointlessly she shook the phone, and a moment later the display updated itself to read 8:44 as the phone managed to reconnect to the internet, and a coming through just a second later, apparently to remind her of the impending Wards meeting. Right, she wasn’t supposed to put this thing in her inventory, was she? Honestly, managing the device seemed like more of a pain than it was worth, even if access to the internet was nice.

Whatever, the phone wasn't important right now. What was important was that she was cutting it really fine to make it to that meeting on time! Not that Ashley particularly cared about being punctual as a rule of thumb – at least not in cases where the circumstances weren't time-sensitive – but she really really really wanted to meet her fellow Wards! And now she might be late!

Familiar enough with the layout of the building after a month of exploring and living in the place, Ashley didn’t bother with the door, instead simply shunting the phone back into her inventory and creating another instance of herself on the other side of the wall. A moment later both the clones in the room were gone and second Ashley had appeared outside, immediately setting off with its twin towards the meeting room.

PRT Headquarters, 8:37AM
June 19, 2021

---

"Thanks. See you later"

Jen didn't hear her father's response, as she suddenly entered freefall, her momentum carrying her almost weightlessly over the surface of the road. She was already invisible long before she phased through the side of the moving car, had been the entire ride over, a caution she felt was warranted by the fact that she'd been asked to arrive in full costume. It would be rather embarrassing to be outed just because someone caught sight of her inside the car and managed to link her to the driver through one means or another.

And she had no intention of walking that far, so she'd asked her father to casually drive her past the building and simply keep going inconspicuously. She would handle the rest.

The world cast in the watery filter of her power, Jen's feet skipped over the surface of the road, as she slowly bounded to a stop outside the PRT Headquarters, one building away from her destination. All around her, the slightly distorted figures of a large crowd of reporters and journalists gathered and clamored, all of them barraging Director Foster with questions about the new Wards team. Vultures, of course, the entire lot of them. Jen had little love for the press, but unfortunately, they were creatures she now had to contend with and humor, as influential as they were in today's day and age with their gossip rags and rumor mongering, always slavering for the newest, juiciest bit of drama.

Humming to herself, Jen enjoyed a private little smirk, as she sauntered through the crowd intangibly, a ghost amongst their ranks, up to where the Director was standing. Idly checking the time on her Wards phone, Jen chuckled and put it away. Of course, she was well-aware this wasn't the place she was told to meet, but it was a rather convincing little illusion the Director was spinning. Surely, she could spare a moment to help sell it all the better? It would be she and the Director's little secret.

She waited until an awkward lull in the conversation was presented, the result of a particularly insensitive question regarding Confessor's rampage. The mood in the area had palpably dipped and grown somber, not quite able to truly recover even when the Director gave her assuaging rebuttal. On what was supposed to be a momentous day, the reestablishment of the decimated Wards team, such a thing was hardly ideal, right? Surely, this was a situation that deserved a little bit of levity?

Not that Jen particularly cared, but it was Wattson's job now to reassure the public.

It cost her nothing but time, so why not?

The blue-clad Ward, Wattson, slowly faded into existence, a deliberate affection for show, as Jen allowed herself to reappear ever so slightly behind the PRT Director but well within sight of most of the cameras, one finger on her right forearm, pressed against one of the false buttons on her suit, a design choice meant to mislead -at least for now- that her power was Tinker-derived. Grinning unseen behind her full-face mask, Wattson's left hand rose in a silent shushing motion, one finger pressed against the lower half of the smooth expanse of her mask. Her armored bodysuit gleamed, glowing accents further accentuating her chosen cyberpunk aesthetic.

Her left hand lowered to her right wrist again, making a show of pressing the false button again, as she made a half-turn on her heel. She deliberately made her power fade her from sight slightly less quickly than she could have, leaving her time to take a single step towards the deeper reaches of the PRT HQ and shoot the journalists a cheeky, jaunty two-fingered salute, before she faded from detection mid-motion. If all went well, the implication of her heading deeper into the building would further sell the Director's narrative, and the carefree body language of a youth -unworried enough to "prank" their superior- would help further smooth over those proposed "child soldier" concerns. As far as the public was concerned, in this moment at least, Wattson was just another kid having a good time, her fate and happiness safe in the PRT's arms as one of the Wards.

Jen was already gone long before she could observe the results of her actions, bounding away in swift moon hops to her true destination. She was already cutting her timing rather close, and if she wanted to see the results of her little bit of PR wrangling, all she'd need to do is browse the internet later to gauge public perception. For now though, she had a schedule to keep.

---

Protectorate Headquarters, 8:40AM

---

The temptation to ignore the security checkpoints with her power, just to make a point and be a little bit petty, was not insignificant, but Jen felt she made the overwhelmingly mature decision by weathering them. As much as she was hardly enthused to be here, there was no sense starting things off on the wrong foot and making her life harder in the future. It cost her nothing but time to do things the right way, and it was just one more way she could better her reputation with her new coworkers in order to grease the wheels of leniency in areas she was far less willing to compromise on.

Besides, protocol existed for a reason. Forgoing it was liable to lower trust between both parties, and it would further compromise the PRT's ability to counter a Stranger in the infinitesimal circumstance that someone wanted to, say, impersonate her. The better she established a pattern that was risky to replicate, the less likely even that small eventuality came to pass. And really, that was just the first of the reasonings Jen was able to throw together for why protocol wasn't an ugly concept in this situation. And the better she justified it to herself, the less it would remain an ongoing source of otherwise unnecessary irritation.

Yes, all was right with the world, and first impressions were important at any new job.

In the end, the whole process didn't even take that much time. First was a highly guarded security gate, nothing a bit of identification with her special access credentials couldn't fix. Past that, she wasn't at too much liberty to admire the expansive architecture of the heavily fortified complex, keeping her pace to a politely swift stride down a long hallway to take an elevator up to a central area on the second floor. A final security check beyond that awaited her, and Wattson dutifully jumped through the required metaphorical hoops, checking the time once more and tucking her phone back away to enter the PRTHQ's central meeting room.

---

Protectorate Headquarters, 8:44AM

---

It seemed she was the first to arrive. And fashionably right on time to boot.

"Seems I'm the first," Wattson said as much with a note of humor in her voice, as she raised an unseen brow at the welcome crew: Nightstalker, Axiom and the Protectorate's leader himself, Grandmaster.

She supposed nothing but the best would do for such an occasion, right?

Eyeing the accommodations of the spacious room, Jen briefly considered taking a seat for the wait on the rest of the team, but she decided it would be in somewhat poor taste to leave her hosts standing there looking all official and shit. It would be so stiff and awkward. Stowing her annoyance at the inconvenience of social niceties, Wattson strode up to the lined-up heroes and reached out her right hand with the courteous offer to shake each of theirs in turn.

"Wattson," she introduced herself succinctly and -she gathered- ultimately unnecessarily. "But I'm sure you all knew that, of course. It seems we'll be working together from now on. I'll be in your care." She almost uttered "pleased to meet you", but she preferred not to lie outright. The last thing she was interested in was being here right now, surrounded by other parahumans in stupid costumes, but she'd tolerate it for the time being. Still, again, she reminded herself that it cost her nothing but a bit of irritation to swallow her displeasure and be courteous and professional.

First impressions, Jen, first impressions. You can relax later.

---

June 19, Protectorate HQ
Ward Quarters
8:12 AM

Val hummed quietly, tugging on his arm guard with maybe a little more force than strictly necessary. It was nearly torn to pieces by his power before he managed to make it still. It was taxing, like trying to rein in a rabid dog, but if he couldn't do this, it'd only get harder. He took a momentary pause, restless energy buzzing underneath his skin without direction. He allowed a single breath to steady his hand and then started to pull the straps across, tightening them one by one by one. Easy enough. No pressure, no–

Something snapped.

Val sighed. He finished securing the straps and turned his arm over, taking in every curve and contour of the covering. They'd implemented his suggested designs on one side and left the other blank. No one knew what the symbols meant. Not even him. Sort of.

The glove chaffed oddly against his skin, every part of his costume did, actually. It was a sensation he was experiencing for the first time in a while.... There were a lot of things he hadn't felt in a while now. An incessant buzzing noise filled his ears and his lips tugged downward in a frown. It stopped.

That was annoying.

He stared down at his hands, wondering. How much did they know? Truly know. Certainly not much, considering they were letting him around other people without a shock collar on, not to mention the access they gave him to certain equipment. His lips quirked upwards slightly. Only time would tell if that was a mistake on their part.

Maybe he could make a more personal request. See how much access he had.

But that would come later.

Val flexed his fingers, watching as the sheaths around them shredded into useless strips of fabric. They never should have bothered with making it like that anyway. Then again, he couldn't blame them too much; he hadn't given them a lot to work with.

A ghost of a smile graced his face as he clenched his hand into a fist. Much better.

Putting his mask on came last, and here, he hesitated. Only for half a second, but that was already too long.

He knew better. Hesitation was a killer.

The mask itself was split in two, and Val opted to only wear the lower half this time. Enhanced vision was nice, but the novelty wore off pretty quickly. And he didn't need it yet.

His eyes scanned the interior of his room one last time. It was normal.... almost disconcertingly so.

Val pressed the palm of his left hand to the wall, closing his eyes to focus. There was an odd "hum" within the walls. It was quiet, barely there. Anyone else likely wouldn't have noticed it, but his power was useful like that.

He smirked and drew his hand back. Well, maybe they weren't that stupid, after all.

Or maybe, he just didn't know anything about construction.

Fully donned in his Cape costume, Val pulled out his Ward-issued phone to check the time. 8:25 flashed across the screen in neon red. After admiring it for a few seconds, he grabbed his door handle and stopped.

Richter stared at his hands again, and he saw red.

He smiled.

---

June 19, Protectorate HQ
8:45 AM

---

Richter arrived at the meeting room exactly on time. Not a second earlier.

There was already another Ward in the room when he got there. He briefly spared her a glance before moving on.

The others waiting in the meeting room were full-fledged members of the Protectorate. Nightstalker, Axiom.... and Grandmaster. The leader of the Protectorate, in the flesh.

He looked quite different from the last time Val had seen him. Then again, he was delirious from blood loss at the time.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

"I am a big fan. I leave myself in your very capable hands." The words slipped from his lips almost convincingly. Not that they were entirely untrue.

Val walked further into the room after his simple greeting, dropping into one of the couches and taking up most of the available space without a second thought. Just because everyone else was standing around didn't mean he had to. He pulled out a silver coin from one of his pouches and flipped it between his fingers, his attention focused completely on his hand.

On the outside, at least.

---

Pierce Residence, 6:54 AM
June 19th, 2021

Sunlight beamed in from the kitchen window, the only source of light in the dreary room. Ethan grabbed another egg from the nearby carton, cracking and pouring the contents into the pan with a single fluid motion. He grimaced a bit as the oil from the pan splashed, stinging his arm.

High temperatures, can cause first degree burns with extended exposure. Handle is loose, will detach with enough force and/or when swung at a 60 degree angle. High in cholesterol and saturated fats, this meal can contribute to high blood pressure and heart disease.

Ethan sighed as he continued cooking, turning the temperature on the stove top higher as the information from his power flowed in. The meal wasn't the healthiest, but right now his dad needed comfort food.

Eventually Ethan's power signaled that any more cooking could burn the food, and he slid the eggs and bacon onto a plate. Ever since the incident, he had taken over the cooking in the house - and while he wasn't the best at it, his power and the last few weeks of practice has made a massive improvement.

Ethan grabbed a fork and knife before going upstairs, stopping at the door to the master bedroom. He knocked twice. Paused.

No response.

That scared him the first few times, but he had gotten used to it over the last two weeks. Ethan walked into the dark bedroom, maneuvering past the bundled piles of dirty clothes and bags of trash. His father was laying on the bed pretending to be asleep, some wildlife documentary playing on the TV. Ethan gently placed the plate down on the bedside table as he spoke.

"Morning dad. Made your favorite - eggs and turkey bacon. Breakfast of Champions."

Exposed jugular, slicing his carotid with the knife will result in death by blood loss within 10 seconds. Depressed. Holding it together for his son, say you hate him and he can be pushed-

"I know you're probably tired, so I'll just leave it on the table for you, okay?"

Ethan turns around and begins making his way out of the room.

Focus on something else, anything else. He's fine, don't worry, everything will turn out okay. Just get out of here. Don't break down. Don't let him know that you know how bad things are.

Ethan stopped at the door, resting his hand against the frame as he spoke.

"I'm headed to meet with the other Wards, so I left your lunch in the fridge. I'll try putting myself out there a bit, maybe make some friends - order a pizza or some Chinese if I'm not back for dinner... I, uh... I love you, dad. Just want to make sure you know that."

The man didn't stir from the bed, and Ethan closed the door behind him.

He stood there for a dozen or so seconds before he heard the creaking of the bed, and the clinking of the knife and fork on the plate as his father ate. Ethan smiled a bit to himself, before grabbing the duffelbag with his costume and heading out for work.

---

Protectorate HQ, 8:42 AM
June 19th, 2021

Ethan bristled under his costume, thick cloak wrapped around himself as he walked down the hall. The costume took a lot of time to design and still didn't match his specifications. The name wasn't his first choice, all of his coworkers were going to be traumatized teenagers that would probably be as annoying as the kids at his old school, and the less said about the douchebag PR department the better. This hero gig would have been an instant rejection if the protectorate wasn't Ethan's best shot at getting these powers under control.

The only upside was the paycheck and the new school. Fuck saving people, making six figures before he could legally drive was the real reason he was playing dress up.

The security checkpoints were a nightmare for someone like him - when he saw one guard walk past the gate without going through proper Master/Stranger password protocols, Ethan nearly had an aneurysm. At least after the first checkpoint things seemed to be more up to standard - metal detectors, patdowns, access cards and passwords, the whole nine yards.

Ethan suspected that the guards were pulling out all the stops to try and annoy him or make him late, but he preferred the full view of the protocols. Let him see all the little steps that they were fucking up. He planned on writing up some notes for the Director later - a fingerprint reader at the very least would protect against a lot of Strangers.

Ethan ran his hand along the wall as he walked down the hall, feeling the cool material against his hand.

Kinetic force won't work to break it - tinker-made material, crystalline structure and shifting resonance frequency absorbs impacts to a nearly perfect degree. Rapid temperature fluctuation can help destabilize the chemical properties, causing fissures in the-

Ethan shook his head, continuing to walk down the hall. Not the fucking time. He was about to meet his coworkers and superiors, and meeting new people always triggered his power the most. Didn't want to lash out too bad, especially when everyone else in the room could probably shoot lasers or breath fire or some shit. Especially when his dad would be happy to see Ethan make friends with kids his own age.

What the fuck am I thinking. I'm gonna die here.

---

Protectorate HQ, 8:45 AM
June 19th, 2021

Ethan walked into the spacious meeting room with a measured gait, the glowing eyes of his costume scanning the surroundings. Just in time - showing up late or early put him a bit on edge, so this was already better than it could have been. The architecture in this part of the building was decent enough - several exit points was nice, the one-way windows were reinforced decently enough, and the TV and consoles nearby should keep his coworkers too busy to annoy him.

Ethan bit the bullet, and took a look at the people who had already arrived. Three of them were recognizable Protectorate members, all of whom Ethan had gotten the chance to familiarize himself with since joining the Wards. Grandmaster was (relies on melee and throwing knives, keep barriers or enemies between one anoth-) decked out in formal wear, two swords at his side and a number of throwing knives hidden in his sleeves. Next to him was Nightstalker, the (highly adapted for night vision, can use flashbangs and high-powered flashlights to disorien-) only case 53 that Ethan knew off the top of his head and Axiom, a tinker who (clog air intake on larger pieces of tech with flour from the kitchen, can further capitalize by striking joints with a knif-) Ethan had already spoken with a few times for recommendations on his costume design.

The other two figures in the room were new - presumably other Wards that had arrived early. One was another boy who was seated on a nearby couch, his costume superficially similar to Ethan's. He actually gave Ethan a bit of pause - he was spread out on one of the couches, and Ethan noticed several parts of his costume seemed a bit tattered or damaged already.

Internal or indirect damage such as poisons or drowning is best. Avoid direct strikes, might break your hands. History with the foster system that he doesn't talk about. Lacks empathy for others, may-

The lack of direct physical vulnerabilities gave Ethan pause. Most people couldn't handle a knife in the throat or having thumbs jabbed in their eye sockets. A brute of some kind, with a focus on durability? Not relevant, he'd reveal his power later. Ethan stopped in front of the couch the teen was sitting on, looking at the coin moving in the other ward's hands as he spoke.

"Let me know if you want me to put a word in to the engineering department for you about that costume. They do alright work, but you gotta needle their ass if you don't want something subpar. Either they're fucking something up or you don't know how to put your clothes on, and I really hope it's the former."

Ethan didn't bother waiting for a response, already turning and scoping out the last person in the room. To be honest, he just wanted an excuse to go complain to the engineering department again.

The other ward looked like some kind of tinker, an older girl with an armored bodysuit and some kind of high-tech helmet. Pretty similar looking to Axiom in that regard - maybe they compared notes?

Cover the oxygen vents with adhesives or pepper spray before they seal. Spray paint on the helmet to reduce visibility, can kick out the knees while shes wiping it clean. Bodysuit doesn't provide protection against blunt trauma, shouldn't be too useful if she gets kicked out of the window... Physical assault difficult due to power, requires sneak attacks or exceptional timing...

His power was working, but when it was targeting the ward herself and not just her equipment, the responses were slower. Less accurate. It was... nice. Less aggravating when his power wasn't pinging like crazy. Ethan wasn't sure if it was some kind of tinker tech she was using or if she had a trump ability of some kind, but whatever the case, she was the least annoying person in the room right now thanks to it.

Ethan thought about sitting on the couch that the other boy was taking up a lot of space on, but quickly decided against it when his power signaled how stupid that would be. Instead, he stood a bit off to the side, standing somewhat near the older girl and Axiom. He leaned closer to Axiom and murmured a question.

"How many kids did you guys pick up for this? I don't want to get you in trouble since you're cool, but I'm not very good with big groups. Especially if there are a lot of dipshits."

---

The Rafferty Estate, 8:40 AM
June 19th, 2021

"This is too sudden! It was one thing to join, but we're being told to all meet together! For the first time! Oh, God, I think I'm gonna be sick..."

"Landon, you need to breathe. Also, you're molting."

"I am?! Oh, nonono! Stop! Stop it!"

The scene playing out in the elegant and well-kept bedroom of one Claire Rafferty would've been humorous if the sheer, honest panic of one of its residents wasn't so absolutely palpable, that being Landon Mandel, who was busy trying to keep the sprouting feathers across his arms from going any further than that, as the jet-black feathers were hastily shaken off his arm, cast against the once-pristine floor the pair of them stood on. "You know panicking further doesn't help it. Just take a deep breath. Relax." Claire was the voice of reason that brought him back down, bringing his shaky and labored breathing back down to something manageable, as any signs of his transformation slowly sank back down. "...Thanks. I-I'm sorry about the feathers, I'll-" Before he could finish his thought, Claire merely held a hand up to stop him. To most, her blank stare was exactly that; completely emotionless, almost terrifyingly so, but Landon had spent enough time around her to recognize that ever-so-faint spark of concern with them. "I can handle it. You have better things to be doing."

Taking a cautious few steps forward, Claire tentatively put a hand on Landon's shoulders, a slight smile across her face as the window behind them cast morning light upon her, illuminating her pale form and cascading through her golden hair. "I know you're scared, and you have every right to be. But you promised the both of us that you would do this, and I don't think a simple meeting is enough to stop you. Right, Landon?" While clearly hesitant to answer it, he eventually gave a curt nod of his head. Her smile grew just a bit larger. "Good. Now, you don't have much time, so you should get going. Show them your good side, Landon."

"...I have a good side?"

"...Don't ruin the moment. And I'm serious, you should go. It's already eight forty."

That got him to shake his proverbial (and eventually literal) tail-feathers. "I-It's already that late?! I have to go! Oh God, if I'm late to this..." Thankfully for him, his freshly flared-up anxiety over such a possibility was pushing his ability back into work, as fur and feathers alike began to coagulate across his form. Rushing to the bedroom window, he gave one last look to his only friend in the world. "...I'll try my best to show that good side you can see." With a nervous smile, he was pushed over the edge by that small, terrifying pledge he made, as his form twisted and flexed into its new shape. Talons found purchase as the window was pushed up, and in spite of his new size, he slid out into the morning sky with ease. Time to get to work.

---

Protectorate Headquarters, 8:44 AM
June 19th, 2021

You know, it was something Landon had long since taken for granted in his old life, but now, it was a fact that seemed all too obvious to him now. People rarely looked above themselves. That much was obvious as he sailed through the morning skies, moving too fast for his cast shadow onto the streets to stir any potential attention, and his silent wingbeats carrying him through the winds in broad daylight, the many civilians below oblivious to the avian creature in flight above them. Thank goodness for that! He was already stressed enough, running short on time and with all the pressures both self-applied and not weighing him down. The last thing Landon wanted was to cause a public stir by becoming some kind of cryptid sighting. So it was with this thought lingering on his mind that he made record time in his flight through the city airways.

As he made his mute landing beyond the whish of air to the first checkpoint, Landon could already feel all eyes on him as the guards seemed to almost size him up. Not that it was a surprising occurrence, but it still didn't hurt any less each time this sort of thing happened. Sure, he was a 12-foot bird-monster, but he was a 12-foot bird-monster with feelings still! It felt awful being put under such scrutiny, so he was quick to present the proper credentials to get him moving. If this was how the average guard would view him, he was even more concerned as to how his fellow Wards might perceive him. In response to this mounting fear, he could feel feathers and fur grow out across his form just that bit more, making him all the more upset.

Landon passed his way down the stainless-steel hallway, and perhaps his curiosity getting the better of him, he ran one of his razor-sharp talons across it. Beyond making an awful noise that made him almost instantly flinch away, there wasn't even a mark on it. Well, that shouldn't surprise him much; this place was made with Capes in mind, so of course its defenses would be state-of-the-art. Not exactly the same as clawing his way into a vending machine. And so he kept walking, his wings flexing and fidgeting awkwardly behind him, as if they had a mind of their own. He was used to this sort of feeling; even if this place was more spacious that most, being inside anywhere caused his new form to tense up a bit. He definitely preferred somewhere more open, where he could feel the air against his wings. Anywhere else nowadays felt at least mildly claustrophobic. Still, he couldn't let that hold him back...Even if, admittedly, the closer and closer he neared his destination, the more he felt his body lag and hesitate. He could feel his stomach churn as his approach neared its end. In here, he'd be meeting everyone who would be his teammates, as well as the professional Capes leading and teaching them...How on Earth could he ever measure up to all of this? Maybe he would be better off if he...

Shaking away his feelings of self-doubt, Landon recalled his promise. He had to try. And so, he stepped forward.

---

Protectorate HQ, 8:46 AM
June 19th, 2021

'Wow, this is really spacious.' Was mercifully the first thing that passed his mind as he stepped into meeting room proper. In fact, he had enough space to properly shift his wings a bit, as they folded out several feet to flex out some of their tension, before compacting themselves back to not be so obstructive. The place seemed awfully comfy, with even a TV and some gaming consoles off to the side...Not that he'd ever played such a thing, but he knew of them, at least. However, he knew he couldn't distract himself forever, and looked to the actual inhabitants of the room, his large silvery domes that were the eyes of this form passing across all the new faces, his body tensing up with each one he visually passed.

There were the Protectorate members in the room, of course. Grandmaster was the first one he noticed, and the one who definitely brought the most tension to him. He was stoic and composed, with a look that, at least for Landon, always made him feel as if he was being looked through, instead of at. Next, though, was a more comforting sight (at least for him; he could imagine most people might not agree), but Mr. Nightstalker made his eyes turn up like crescent moons, pleased to see him here. For one, it simply made Landon feel better to not be the only one with an...Abnormal appearance, putting it politely, but it also helped that they were just a genuinely nice person, from what little he'd interacted with them. Last but certainly not least was Axiom, their resident Tinker. He didn't know her as well (probably due to the fact that she'd interacted with the other Wards on their costume situation, from what he'd heard, which...Well, he didn't exactly get involved in, to put it simply), but at the very least, she didn't come off as imposing as Grandmaster. He'd take it.

Okay, deep breath now; had to greet them properly. They were their effective bosses, after all. Choking down his fear, Muninn gave a bow to their three seniors (which looked rather awkward given his height), before standing back straight and looking them...Well, he couldn't muster the strength to meet Grandmaster eye-to-eye, so he settled for the vague area around them. "I-It's an honor to be here! I hope I can be of some service!" Alright, he said his piece! Almost immediately, with surprising agility, he lunged for the nearest couch, curling into a near imperceivable ball of darkness upon it once he'd tucked in his arms and legs and wrapped his larger wingset around his form, as if sheltering him from the gaze of everyone present. The real surprise was how little space he seemed to take up on the couch in spite of his height. He had managed to be quite compact...

Slowly recovering from his performance anxiety, one of his bright-white orbs peered out again, glancing over the other would-be Wards. He didn't know any of them, of course, and nothing about them looks-wise really set anything off. Not surprising; that meant he was the weirdest one of them. He'd kinda hoped there'd be at least one like him, but as it was, it seemed he would be isolated in his monsterhood amongst his teammates. Still, their choices for costuming were interesting to parse. One of them was wearing a get-up you'd expect a wastelander from some post-apocalyptic setting to wear, which caught him off-guard. It didn't seem very hero-like. Honestly, it didn't seem like...Anything? Too confused to really grasp the idea behind it, his luminous eye darted to the next one. Now THAT one stood out! It was techy as all get-out, and made him think of Ms. Axiom's design. Perhaps they'd been inspired? Regardless, it was eye-catching, and without even knowing its full purpose, simply looked impressive on its own.

The next one, however, nearly caused him to recoil back into his shapeless dark blob he was on the couch. They were full cloak-and-dagger, with terrifying glowing eyes piercing out from the shadows of their hooded figure. Though...Did he really have the right to be scared by that? He kinda had the same thing going on...But when he looked back at it again, he came to his conclusion. Yeah, scary. Was it some kind of intimidation tactic, or did the person underneath all of that really just want to look like a bad guy? And speaking of cloaks, there was another person here with the same setup. Were cloaks really popular in the superhero sphere and he just didn't know? Maybe he could ask for one...Wait, no, that'd mess with his wings. Well, regardless, at least this one's mask was notably less frightful, at least for him. He could only wonder what was going through the minds of his fellow Wards; especially about himself. He was this freaky, lanky bird-monster, and they'd just watched him act like a total teacher's pet. Was that bad? Probably. But he was just used to showing respect, and it was a hard thing to shake off...And honestly, with Grandmaster present, he wasn't sure he had the backbone to try and brush them off in any sense. And so, the squeamish bird-man sat huddled on the couch, fearful of what may come next.

---

Streets of Bridgewater, 8:45am
June 19th, 2021

The cool air along the waterfront felt good as it washed her face. She stared at her reflection in the currents, seeing her form twist and morph as the waves lapped. Quinn felt this was apt. She was not some normalized figure. She contained multitudes. How does it feel to bend the whims of men? If she were an average person, that question might scare her. Show a cause for concern regarding her feelings towards her fellow humans.

Quinn was not like other people.

She was better. She was smarter. She could shape the world if she so chose, but there were rules. Laws. People like her were the bane of other people's existence. She knew it. She relished in it.

Fear was delicious. No one talked about that enough.

Sure she could use her powers for "evil", with a heavy emphasis on the quotation marks because what is evil? Evil to one is different than to another and who was any one person to decide that for the whole of humanity? So she could use it for evil, but no one talked about her use of it for "good". The underlying worry was always that she could cause real, significant harm., but never that she could be a cause for some positive change.

That was fine. The world was not black and white. There were shades of gray. Large chunks of gray, if she were being honest. A person stealing to provide for their family, as an example. A woman killing her husband who abused her relentlessly. Crimes, sure, but within reason.

That was how she felt when she influenced others. Bringing about their true intentions or showing the consequences of their actions.

Quinn bent down and picked up a rock, flinging it towards her reflection, distorting the image albeit briefly. Once it was satiated, she put on her oversized sunglasses and turned, making her way towards PRT Headquarters.

It was showtime.

---

PRT Headquarters, 8:54am
June 19th, 2021

Quinn came into the room and locked on the others quickly. Quinn had quickly changed into her suit and mask upon arrival. She clocked all of the others and realized she had missed some conversation. That didn't matter.

She walked in and took a seat, waiting for whatever this was to get started.

She could already tell who would be the most annoying out of all of them and made a note to herself to adjust her tone and verbiage as needed when conversing with them, if she did so at all. They were meant to work together, she assumed. It probably would not look great if she didn't at least put in some effort. After all, she was considered dangerous (they all were, sure, but it was a different kind of dangerous).

Today was going to be a long day.

PRT HQ Ward Quarters, 8:07am
June 19th, 2021

Faith woke up from her bed in the Ward Quarters of the PRT Headquarters. Today was the day. She hadn't been able to sleep well. From the moment she was recruited, she had been back and forth from her home to this building several times. She was given a tour, a debriefing on what her new role would entail, and a little bit of combat training which did not go as well as anybody hoped. She had moved in permanently one week ago, so she could get used to this lifestyle.

It was Faith who had made the call to move out. She didn't want to rely on getting driven to work every day. That was not a particlarly....heroic entrance. Plus, while she was learning how to avoid using her powers and training herself off accidentally using commands in everyday speech, she'd made a lot of mistakes with her parents. They were now unnaturally nice, and it was all her fault. It was putting a strain on things. She no longer felt qualified to live with them for fear she'd make things worse. They trusted her too much, and were far too vulnerable to her powers. She would still visit them whenever she got the opportunity. Maybe during holidays. But otherwise she had effectively moved out.

She took a quick shower, dried and brushed her hair and did her makeup, before putting on her costume. She hadn't even worn this four times total in her life yet, and she still wasn't used to navigating this....dress. Oh well, it will probably come with practice. She was going to be putting it on a lot from now on, after all.

---

PRT Headquarters, 8:46am
June 19th, 2021

The sixth Ward to enter the room, one minute later than intended (which Faith still counted as being on time. Most people accounted for a five minute grace period, right?). Faith entered the room. She had been in this room several times this past week to watch television in her free time, but she was usually alone. This room felt a lot more natural with more people in it, sitting on the couches and filling the space up. Faith was familiar with Grandmaster and Nightstalker, and had seen Axiom around though they'd never really spoken as Faith had not been given gadgets yet. The rest of the people in this room must be her teammates, then!

Faith's costume, being on the brigher side, was definitely standing out. There were two intense-looking boys in hooded cloaks, a girl in a more sci-fi bodysuit, and a boy with green skin and dark grey fur and feathers....not a lot of bright colors to go around. That may have influenced them when they designed and her costume soon after she joined.

Grandmaster hadn't made any move after she arrived. She was worried she may have been the last one here when she was running late from getting ready, but it looked like they were still waiting on more. She looked around, her eyes resting on Landon. Besides being by far the most eyecatching stranger in the room, he also seemed like the most approachable, if clearly nervous. She smiled and sat beside him.

"Nervous? She asked reassuredly. "Don't worry. I'm nervous too. I-"

She cut herself off as her eyes went wide with shock and she put her hand to her mouth, acting as if she'd just said something really bad. Strangely, he'd find himself calming down ever so slightly. It was as if all of his worries had shrunk just a little. They weren't gone entirely, however.

"Sorry, that was..." she shook her head, signed, and then smiled again, a little more sheepish this time. "I'll start over. My name's Faith. What's yours?"

Hornet

---

Protectorate HQ, Changing room, 8:37 AM
June 19th, 2021

Jessica held her helmet between her hands, stared into the glossy black eyes as she hesitated to put it on, and wondered if it was too late to change the design of her costume. The original drafts she had seen, after sending in some rough sketches and some notes on what she wanted, includes a helmet that was just a blank yellow plane, featureless and inhuman, and Jessica had rejected them on the basis that it would be too intimidating. She’d thought that the eyes and the black lines here and there to break up the expanse of yellow would help it look more like a face, but now those shiny black eyes bore into you and you could see yourself in them if you were close enough and maybe that was worse. The effect was more intense that she expected and she couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to be stared down by someone wearing this.

Letting out a sigh, Jessica put the helmet down on the bench next to her and procrastinated having to put it on by checking the rest of her costume for the fifth time.

Wearing her costume still felt strange to her. It was heavy with all of the armour on it, but not as much as you would think; the plates at her chest and back weighed on her shoulders more than a regular t-shirt would but less than her school backpack did when it was full of books, the gauntlets on her wrists made every movement of her arms feel like the swing of a pendulum and her helmet added a weight to every nod and turn of her head that felt uncomfortable. But overall the whole ensemble didn’t weigh so much that it felt like a burden to walk around in it. More distracting than the weight was the inflexibility of it all; not that it was restrictive exactly, whoever had designed and made this had been sure to provide her with the normal range of movement she would have without it, but she could still feel the rigidity of what she was wearing every time she moved and it was… distracting.

Everything she wore felt new, like the stiffness new clothes tended to have, because it was. The feeling was like a reminder that she didn’t quite fit yet, that she hadn’t had time to settle into her costume or the role that came with it; she’d barely triggered two months ago and now she was supposed to be a Ward and in a couple years she would move up join the Protectorate and then Jessica would have stand alongside people like Grandmaster and Axiom and Trinity. Barely two months since she’d gotten hurt, since her friend had… since she’d triggered. It didn’t feel like enough, even though a week ago it felt like too long. Two months of getting used to her power, of training to fight and defend herself, of getting a crash course in PRT protocols and rules and all of the jargon that came with being a Cape.

Two months of recovery.

It felt like too long at the time. It didn’t feel like enough now.

Picking up the helmet again, Jessica didn’t risk getting caught up in its blank stare again and just slid it over her head and felt its uncomfortable weight setting into place.

Everything she wore felt heavy and rigid. Because she was wearing armour; bulletproof armour, because now she was in a situation where that was a thing she needed. Her power made her invincible in short bursts, made her super strong and let her hop around the place so long as there were people to hop to; but that wouldn’t be enough, so the armour was there to catch her when all of that failed to keep her safe. Because being a Ward was dangerous, because the city was dangerous right now even if you were just a normal person, because even though Confessor was dead and gone Bridgewater was still a mess and the gangs were out of control. Jessica had triggered in the first place because things were dangerous and the whole reason she was being introduced as part of a whole new team, and not just as a new Ward member, was because all of the old Wards were gone; either quitting and moving to a new city or dead at the hands of Confessor. Dead along with who knows how many civilians and who known how many more killed or hurt in the instability that followed.

Turning to the floor to ceiling mirror in the changing room, Jessica got a look at herself in full costume for the first time. It felt strange to wear and the helmet was still intense up close, but she had to admit that she liked the way it looked; the sleek lines and smooth planes of the armour, the stark contrast between the black of the under suit and the yellow on top looked good. Even when you knew what to look for, between the full-face helmet and the way the armour hid the shape of her body, there was no hint of who was wearing it underneath; even if the mirror she could almost forget it was herself she was looking at. The only thing ruining the image was the slouched, hunched posture as she leant forward, so she straightened her back and tried to inject some of her usual confidence into her posture. When the effect was less pronounced than she liked she stood up as well, standing tall and with her head up and facing the mirror head on.

It looked better.

It looked like the Hornet she had seen in the costume drafts.

It looked like a Ward. Even if she didn’t feel like one yet.

---

Protectorate HQ, Meeting room, 8:56 AM
June 19th, 2021

Hornet hurried down the corridor towards the meeting room, her efforts to arrive early this morning still ended up with her being late with how long it took to get into her costume. As she approached the room itself and the people within came into range of her power, she could feel how many people were already inside; four, five, six, how many new Wards were they supposed to be getting?

There were nine people in the room total, the final three standing at the back of the room coming into range last. She resisted the urge to speed things up by teleporting into the room, figuring that jump scaring one of her new teammates was not the kind of first impression she wanted to make. Instead she just walked up to the door like a normal human being and opened it just wide enough to quietly slip inside without being noticed. Though given how brightly coloured her costume was compared to basically everyone else in the room, it was inevitable that at least one person was going to turn in her direction.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Bridgewater, 7:30 AM
June 19, 2021



Evie was already up half an hour ago.

147, 148, 149, 150. She dropped to the floor her bedroom, letting go of the pullup bar and grabbing a water bottle from her minifridge. The song Evie started on her phone ended about 20 seconds ago, and she could hear her aunt downstairs. Evie changed into something vaguely presentable, and went downstairs. As nice as it was of the old lady to let her stay, she had already planned on staying at HQ. Sure, the Protectorate were a bunch of shady crooks, but she was less likely to get attacked in her sleep there. Evie's aunt was pushing 60, and an easy target, it wouldn't be fair to her. The house was quiet, so she habitually made her way down just as quietly, almost sneaking up on Erin when she reached the living room. It smelled like candles.

"You can stay for a while, can't you?" She asked, happy to see that Evie didn't sneak out last night. Erin was shorter than Evie, had graying hair down to her shoulders, and a face full of freckles. She was doing good for her age, despite Evie's personal concerns.

"Nah. I gotta go soon. Supposed to be there in an hour," She responded, already putting on her shoes.

"It isn't... That far, is it? Aren't you really fast?" Erin was just as new to the cape thing as Evie's real parents were. Only she actually made an effort to learn. Everyone was shocked to learn that Evie was the vigilante known as Shattercrash, who made the PRT look like a joke for a whole year before Confessor. A media headline or two compared her to the likes of Trinity for how competent she was compared to the everyday heroes, before the PRT shut the press up and tried to recruit her. They weren't successful back then, and it took an S-class threat for the possibility to even open itself up.

"Something like that, but they're the feds. They gotta do their protocols and sh- And all. Paperwork, metal detectors, security. It's like going through TSA just to find the front desk." And she just didn't want to be in this house right now. Erin was nice, but Evie didn't handle kindness well.

"Oh... I don't understand all that hero stuff very well. I just read some of the news articles where they used to talk about you," She said, innocently. Only Evie wished she didn't bring it up.

"I'm sure you'll do good, Evie. I do know you're pretty great at what you do, from what I read... they picked a good hero for it. You and me really should talk about it some more, sometime. Whenever you're free."

"Yeah. Sometime." This felt weird. Unsettling.

"And if you feel like it..." Erin hesitated, "Maybe you can tell me about that Karnstein girl. She seemed like a nice kid."

Evie paused for a minute, looking down at the floor. Her dad never understood things like this, and her mom just never cared. She couldn't go near either of them without beating the shit out of them back to back anymore. The cape life was her escape. Did Erin understand that somehow?

"You know what? They won't kick me out if I'm a few minutes late. She would've liked you. We met back when I first got my powers..."

---

Grandmaster was stoic as ever, as he studied the children and their responses to being here. No one could see it through his mask, but his expression was one of deep contemplation. Munnin's feeling of being look right through couldn't be further from the truth. Grandmaster was dissecting every word their body language spoke. The changer was, unsurprisingly, quite nervous. Thus far, Wattson was the only one presenting any modicum of formality other than him. Though for entirely different reasons. Neither of them were the highest priority, threat-wise, but they could both be pushed to a sufficient point.

Richter was a problem, in ways Grandmaster wasn't equipped for. His background made him difficult to work with out of the mask, and and he'd no doubt be a source of friction among them. He put on a brave face, but Grandmaster knew it was an act. He said what he had to say. In a way, Grandmaster respected this, since Richter was the face of justice now. Luckily, the issues with Richter were ones that the PRT could deal with on their own, when he was between missions and patrols. It was Keystone, however, that presented a much bigger issue. Where the others at least tried to be polite, the first words out of the boy's mouth directed at him were... Pessimistic at best. If he went into this expecting it to fail, then he would simply fail at his own expense.

"There are exactly nine of you. Have some faith, Keystone. You will find that your teammates aren't as inept as you think," He retorted, with a calm demeanor. If he was irked by Keystone's blunt attitude, it didn't show. He wasn't wrong, either. At minimum, two of the new Wards had prior experience as capes. Though, they presented their own problems. Seeing Tandem walk in, he noted her distinct lack of interaction with the ground at first. Fair enough, he thought.

The remaining stragglers started trickling in, one of which was Ethos. She was one of the ones Grandmaster had taken special precautions for. Master Stranger protocols, as well as Striker protocols, were to be used at low intensity until she caused an active threat. Ethos had been notified, prior to today, that she was given the benefit of the doubt for any ill-intended actions that she may have taken before joining the team, and that her powers were to be used as little as possible unless given permission. During such cases, Ethos would be free to use her powers at her discretion, within the limits of the law. This meant that as long as she built up a trustworthy reputation, Ethos would have no trouble using her powers. But regardless, she needed to earn that reputation.

Decree, on the other hand, was a night and day difference from her. Grandmaster didn't need to say anything to her, as she already caught her accidental power use. Moment like that needed to be avoided, but Decree's record for actively policing herself without PRT intervention put her a few steps before Ethos. Her lack of experience put her on par with most of them. Grandmaster felt optimistic about her role in things. The elephant in the room, of course, would be Wattson. Axiom had told him about her disdain for master capes. While her paranoid tendencies were a problem for the PRT's psychologists, he had a plan to keep her satisfied, at the very least.

The last person to walk in was Hornet. Grandmaster respected how quickly she bounced back from her trigger event. His own happened under somewhat similar circumstances a lifetime ago, and it wasn't something to take lightly. He didn't expect many problems from her beyond her stubborn attitude. But that would no doubt help her in the field, if she could adapt.

"You'll adjust to arriving on time soon enough. Although, there is one of you who I would've expected more of..." Looking at a clock on the wall was about the most animated the man seemed to be during this meeting so far.

And then, a pause.

Axiom broke the silence. "She flaked on us, didn't she? I should've known she would." She didn't sound very pleased. Disappointed, even.

"After what we found? No. Where would she go?"

"I hope not. Anyway, since we're waiting... Axiom reached into a deep pocket of her suit, and pulled out a rectangular device. She placed it on a table between the couches, and a bunch of glowing blue orbs manifested around it. When the energy vanished, small containers no larger than someone's cellphone were left behind. It was tinkertech, evidently.

"There's one of these for each of you, they're special earpieces that block out the effects of master influence." Axiom omitted the fact that they only protected from most forms of master influence. Among those were the ones from Ethos and Decree. "They are very easy to conceal, and you'll all be expected to keep these on you 24/7. They'll scan your brain randomly for any influence, and sound off a frequency that people can't pick up on. You'll know when it clears any effects."

"The cases they come in are built to automatically maintain them, so there's no danger of them being bro-"



The door was kicked open, and there stood a cape in full pink and violet combat gear, and a mechanized helmet in one hand. She had an unpleasant, brash look on her face, purple hair and spiked piercings on both ears. If someone looked close enough, they could see a faint scar across the bridge of her nose.

Nightstalker damn near jumped out of his skin, and Grandmaster greeted her. "I see you've decided to grace us with your presence, Shattercrash."

"Bite me, old man," Shattercrash responded, making Keystone's attitude seem mild. "I'm here now. Name's Shattercrash if anyone didn't get the memo." She strolled over, fell onto a couch and kicked her feet up onto the table. All of them had likely heard of her before, if they knew anything about the cape scene in Bridgewater until now.

"What'd I miss?"

---

Someone new walked in. Wait, how many Wards were there supposed to be? It wasn't a question he'd really considered...He hoped not too many more; he wasn't sure he could handle the pressure if the group was too large! At any rate, his almost moon-like eye tracked the newcomer as they made their way into the room proper. He watched as they, too, passively scanned the gathered masses of the Meeting Room, and simply...Took a seat, without a single word uttered. Either there was someone more stressed out here than him (doubtful), or the more likely answer...Whoever that girl was, she was extremely composed, especially, at least from his perspective, given the situation. That was frightful in its own right, and meant that his stare didn't linger much longer than that...Well, beyond taking in their choice of costume. At least there wasn't a cloak! Still, her choice of attire would've probably ended up popping more if the group wasn't so full of dull, lifeless colors...Part of which was his own fault, not that he could control the color of this form.

Landon didn't get much time to weigh group aesthetics, though, as another new face came in. He could feel another spike in his anxiety as more and more Wards emerged, his plumage and fluft growing ever denser in response. Still, what actually caught him off-guard was just how she looked. Er, not to say she looked bad or anything! No, no! In fact, honestly, he found her costume design to be the most appealing thus far, and it definitely stood out against the dull and dreary tones most of the rest were packing. No, it was just...Past the Capes stuff, the newcomer reminded him a bit of Claire...At least, on sheer face value. This girl was taller, certainly, but they both had thin builds, pale complexions, and blonde hair, though...Yeah, the new girl's hair was a few shades brighter, for certain. Claire's could almost come off as ghostly white in certain lighting.

Suddenly realizing that he was just peering out at the newcomer this whole time, Landon abruptly broke eye contact. God, if she saw that, she'd totally think he was some creep or something! How would he even begin to explain that?! "Oh, I'm sorry, you look just like my one and only friend in the whole world!" Stupid! He tucked himself deeper, as if trying to collapse in on himself like a black hole, but something wouldn't let him do that. Footsteps. Not just any footsteps...They were approaching. What?! Why?! In a panic, he freed one of his silvery eyes from his self-made prison once more, quivering with tension as he realized the girl from before was the one making her approach. Oh, nononono....She'd totally seen it! He was going to get chewed out, or blackmailed, or...

Landon had been completely lost in his own headspace by the point that Faith had actually touched down to his location, seated comfortably next to him. Her words were much nicer than he'd been bracing for. That got him out of his shell again, meekly peering out from the darkness of his wings that engulfed his form. He was quietly thankful for his ever-present wings now; they did an excellent job at hiding the worst of his form, and even more importantly, the trembling of his arms and legs. You could hardly tell he was nervous, if not for his giant, lightly quivering eyes. When she spoke, however, something odd happened...Yet something familiar, because he'd felt something like this before. Even earlier today, as a matter of fact.

She'd touched his mind.

For that moment, the anxiety and terror plaguing him was replaced with a mild confusion, even evident as his eyes blinked a few times, any hint of his prior concern temporarily masked...Not entirely by his own volition, but probably much more than the girl next to him fully grasped. The experience was familiar, yes, but distinct; with Claire, it was like being lulled into a sleep, and feeling your sensibilities numb out, but for this stranger? It felt more like his mind being shoved in a direction it never asked to be. Or, well...Perhaps that was a bit harsh. More accurate to the sensation he felt, it was like a gentle nudge, one that was barely noticeable for him, not just due to the gargantuan task that would be him actually not worrying for once in his miserable life, but from a gained tolerance to these forms of influence. Still, though, what a bizarre coincidence! As if she hadn't seemed similar enough to Claire before...He almost wanted to laugh, but he couldn't muster up such a response in this situation.

When Landon watched her practically recoil at the incidental use of her ability, it seemed to gain the opposite reaction she would probably anticipate; slowly, his wings unfurled to his side, freeing his full height as he now sat up straight, towering awkwardly over her as he couldn't help but tilt his head in confusion, his strangely fox-like ears perking up with the motion. Was it really so concerning? She hadn't meant any harm with it, clearly, and it was an accident. Surely she couldn't blame herself for that? He looked on sadly to her for that brief moment, but she bounced back, granting him a name and requesting his in kind. But...Crap! Was Faith her Cape name, or her real one?! It could be either! Sure, it'd be a strange name for a Cape, but aren't they all kind of strange? Oh God, how was he supposed to respond?! If he gave the wrong one, he'd look like a moron! Hidden underneath the gathering of fur and feather, his breathing picked up in pace, his body silently heaving as his anxiety mounted. Eventually he blurted something out. "Muninn! Or Landon! Oh, uh, Muninn's the name when I'm like this, but my real name's Landon!"

Vomiting all of that onto her, he gave a groan of disgust at himself before he recoiled yet again, revealing his green, scaly arms as his taloned hands clasped the sides of his head in embarrassed agony. Could he have mucked that up any more royally?! Already, his wings were starting to instinctively close in around him once more, as if forming a much-needed sanctuary from his failings. That was, until someone smashed straight into the room.

"AHH!"

His natural instinct was panic at the abrupt, jarringly loud noise, changing how he held his head from a position of shame to one of defensiveness, his hands clasped tightly over his sensitive ears as the explosion of nerves caused a scattering of his jet-black feathers to shoot off from him like someone smashing open a pillow filled with down, which he'll certainly have time to be embarrassed about after he emerges from his seclusion, as yet again his wings formed up around him, turning Landon back into a ball of pitch-black nothing.

---

PRT Headquarters, 8:56am
June 19th, 2021

Faith watched Landon sit up with more confidence and as such look visibly taller. His wings also stopped subconscioualy covering him as much. He was still a little nervous which let Faith breathe a sigh of relief. He must have some natural resistance to her power. If she'd have made that mistake with mom or dad, they'd never have worried about anything ever again for their entire lives, even if it was something they genuinely needed to worry about. She couldn't afford to slip up like that again. She needed to be much more careful. Her own slight nerves in introducting herself to strangers had caused her to start rambling. Faith could not afford to ramble. Every single sentence out of her mouth needed a great deal of thought, attention and care put behind it.

He was hesitating slightly in answering her, and this gave her the opportunity to look at him properly. his forearms and lower legs were green and scaly, ending in talons like an anthropomorphic bird of some kind. The rest of him was feathers and fur. She wasn't sure his his head resembled a canine or a giant bat. The fur was thick enough to obscure all of his facial features besides his eyes, and when he opened it, his mouth. It was a combination that should in theory look scary and intimidating. But with Landon's body language and behaviour, it all just made him look more like a pup. During this time another blonde girl walked in with a tight black catsuit and a white cocktail dress over it. She sat down without a word to anyone. Faith thought that costume was a little...indecent, but kept that to herself.

Landon finally gave her his reply, tripping over his words as he gave her both his code name and first name. He then gave a groan of embarrasment and hid himself back inside his wings again. After a beat, Faith gave a slight, quiet giggle. She felt relieved and comforted that she didn't stand out in this group. One of her bigger fears when she'd agreed to join was that she would be in a group full of trained, serious kids who had no time or patience to humor the green new girl. She placed a reassuring hand on one of his wings.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Landon," she greeted with a relaxed, casual cheerfulness. "My code name is Decree. Do you-"

She was about to ask a question, but it completely slipped her mind never to be found again when after the seemingly last girl arrived, quite late too, the adults addressed her, followed by everybody else. There was apparently supposed to yet one more coming, but she had apparently not showed up. One of the adults then placed a decide on the coffee table, which glowed before leaving behind several small devices. One for each other them, she assumed, though she hadn't been keeping a strict count of everybody in the room.

When Axiom started explaining what they were, Faith took her hand off Landon's wing, and got to her feet, staring at the devices. These earpieces blocked her powers? So even if she accidentally slipped up in the future, she wouldn't be altering the free will of her friends. Or in extreme cases, altering who they were as people. Not this time. Not anymore. She was positively beaming with the unbridled joy of a child looking at the christmas present they asked Santa for.

There was a loud crash as the door was kicked open, causing Faith to jump and let out a very brief shriek. She turned round to see what the cause of the noise was. There was another teen, who looked very much likle a punk. This must be the ninth member they had been discussing. Faith instantly got the feeling they would not get along. She din't like this girl's attitude, or expression, or behaviour, or piercings. She looked to Landon and saw that the loud noise had caused some of his feathers to fly off and float down around him as he hid himself in his wings. Poor guy. Must not like loud sudden noises. Maybe his power made his hearing sensetive too. He didn't have human ears, after all. It had shocked Faith too. She was glad she hadn't picked one of the cases up, because she would definitely have dropped it.

Faith continued to silently watch Evie disapprovingly through her own white venetian mask as the ninth Ward walked into the room properly.

---

"There are exactly nine of you. Have some faith, Keystone. You will find that your teammates aren't as inept as you think,"

"Nine!? Jesus, did you guys drive to the local high school for crime fighters or something!? Offer puppies and bikes as a sign-on bonus? I mean c'mon, before getting nearly a dozen cape kids, shouldn't you guys be replenishing-"

DON'T

Ethan stopped in his tracks, a cold insight brought on by his power. To him it was stupid, hiring nearly double the number of capes in the Bridgewater Protectorate to join the kiddy team. But Ethan knew when to pick his battles, and bringing up the dead teammates of one of the most dangerous capes in the city was a pretty stupid move. A tense few seconds passed before Ethan backed off, the light from his eye lenses dipping a few centimeters as he tilted his head down.

"...My bad. You're right, they've probably been drilled for this or have experience. Shouldn't judge a book by its title or whatever..."

Cover.

Several more Wards entered the room, each a few minutes later than the last. Normally Ethan might have been a bit annoyed at the lack of adherence to deadlines, but anything to distract him from the scene he just caused was more than welcome. He needed to watch himself a lot more carefully here, especially considering the room was filling with people who could kill by looking at him the wrong way or something.

The first brat was freakishly tall, draped in massive wings and black feathers. A changer of some kind, or at the very least a Case 53. The guy looked like a crow and a fox had a bipedal mothman baby, with green scales near the end of his limbs. He was slouched and anxious-looking, and still dwarfed everyone in the room. One of the more intimidating figures at first glance, giving Ethan a bit of pause... but as soon as the boy finished introducing himself, he immediately lunged for the nearest sofa, and curled into as tight of a ball as he could manage.

Hollow bones to reduce weight during flight, snap his arms and legs with well-placed kicks to the joints before going in with a hammer. Call him a failure, he's feeling inadequate joining the wards and his self-confidence can be tanked even further. Desperate for any social connections, especially with peers - sabotage him, degrade him, ruin his connections, he will break down, then cave his skull in with a rock and-

Ethan physically had to turn and look in another direction, a look of disgust hidden under his mask.

Jesus fucking Christ, this kid needs therapy. Er, well, more than everyone else here, at least.

Landon was a ball of neuroses, and despite having a brute rating, had physical vulnerabilities that could easily be exploited - all things that lit him up like a Christmas tree to Ethan's power. If he wasn't trying to have good behavior, Ethan probably would have lashed out then and there. Whatever respite Jen gave his OCPD, Landon more than made up for it.

He's scared of you. Use it - stare at him the whole meeting, don't let-

Thankfully, another Ward entered only a minute later, giving Ethan something else to shift his focus onto. A blonde girl, tall and a little older than Ethan himself. Her costume was much more 'formal' than Ethan expected, a white dress with gold highlights, with a white mask made of some kind of paper-mache or plaster. She didn't look half bad, though while the aesthetics of her design were appealing, the lack of practicality threw Ethan off.

Inexperienced in costume, trip her up quickly and slice her throat before she can speak. Pepper spray in the eyes, mouth, and sinuses can also serve as a distraction, give you time to cover your ears. Takes solace in her religion, can really get under her skin-

This was getting annoying - Ethan was starting to remember why he disliked parahumans even more than normal people. It was this kind of shit nonstop... He sighed, resorting to the breathing exercises the Bridgewater PRT Therapist told him about.

It helped a bit, but that was probably more a result of closing his eyes and shutting out the disturbances. He could hear the two new arrivals talk to one another briefly, presumably trying to break the ice and fill the silence.

God it would be so easy. 'Turds of a feather drop together', maybe throw in a Jesus quip for bible thumper over there.

He stayed like that, breathing and ignoring the chatter that was spreading throughout the room. A few more Wards came in - two girls, one in thick yellow-black armor and the other in a simple black bodysuit. Ethan managed to focus on the tiles on the floor and the ventilation system before his power got too into the nitty-gritty with those two, and Ethan allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction at that. When three more girls who looked and dressed identically came in, Ethan's smirk quickly disappeared.

She looked vaguely familiar - probably on the news at one point or another, but Ethan wasn't into the cape scene enough to recognize her. Hopefully, that was one of the 'hivemind' kind of cloners, and not the 'throw a bunch of flailing bodies at the bad guy' kind.

Eventually, Grandmaster and Axiom began to talk amongst one another, presumably about the missing 9th Ward member. It didn't last long though, and Axiom quickly manifested several cases of tinkertech origin, containing earpieces. Ethan was one of the first to snatch his from the table, already looking over the device and muttering to himself while Axiom spoke.

"Casing is hard enough, and I don't see any cracks into the wiring... probably observes brain waves rather than neural connections, and I'm guessing bone conduction and vibrations to clear deviated thought patterns? No fucking clue... How would it work against something like that super-LSD Chemtrail made a few months bac-"

Before he could continue muttering to himself like an idiot (or speak louder and get talked down to by the actual Tinker around here), the door to the room slammed open with a crash. A knife was already in Ethan's hand by the time he turned around, raised to chest height as he shook with adrenaline.

Embarrassing. It was just the last ward, looking to make an entrance/disturbance. Thankfully the annoying boy's scream was enough to conceal Ethan's surprise, and he quickly sheathed the knife. He wasn't a cape geek like a lot of the kids at his school, but even he knew who Shattercrash was.

At least Ethan wasn't the only bad kid on the team. That was a plus.

Poison and sneak attacks works best, don't attack with blunt force and avoid melee combat as much as possible. Grenades? Not an option, pepper spray and a lighter can work as a sudden distraction. Overconfident with her experience, play into it a-

"Hmph, quite the entrance. Must have been a nice catch for you guys, isn't this the chick that made the Protectorate look bad for, like, a year? Two? Pretty crazy. How come Miss Breaking and Entering here-"

Temper, instigate a fight with authority so she gets humiliated in front of everyone. Complex about joining the team of her old friends, tell her how she should be bloody ashamed after everything Karnstein did-

Ethan bit his tongue before continuing, backing off. He didn't look into the gore pics about the Karnstein incident, but shitting on dead loved ones wasn't something he usually did. A bit too close for comfort.

And he didn't want to get his chest caved in today. Ethan shook his head, turning to the protectorate heroes and shaking the small earpiece case.

"Whatever, not important. Axiom, can I put in a request for power dampeners too, or is that a privilege after a month or two of baby's first drug bust or whatever we're doing?"

---

June 19, Protectorate HQ
8:58 AM

People continued trickling in one after another for some time, but Val paid them little mind, keeping his attention on his own hands. His eyes furrowed as he focused intently. To anyone looking at him, it may seem as if he wasn't paying attention to anything else, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.

Someone said something to him, but he remained unmoved. From the corner of his eye, he took in the appearance of the person addressing him and raised a delicate brow. The newcomer's attire was drab—not like he was one to talk—and seemed to be purposefully made for.... intimidation? Maybe. He'd sit on that for a while. It bore a superficial resemblance to his costume, and similarly, gave no indication as to what his power was. Though, judging by his shifting glances and the way he moved; untrained but attentive and oddly tense, Val assumed it was mentally inclined. It was hard to tell with the get-up he was wearing.

A thinker, maybe?

Whatever it was, he had a lovely personality to go along with it. Henceforth, Val decided that he would be dubbed "Grump".

.... Well, he never claimed to be good at coming up with names.

He walked off before Val even had a chance to respond. Not that he was planning to. It looked like he was going to complain about something to one of the Protectorate members. He was either ridiculously easy to agitate or.... something else.

As for the next one in line....

If Val could still feel it, he probably would have flinched as something all but stumbled in, all feathers, gangly limbs and fur. It looked like an oversized rat with feathers; a rat-thing. Probably a Changer, or maybe a.... whatever those other things were called. He never paid them much mind before. It was tall, incredibly so, and yet it also seemed so small at the same time. The first word that came to Val's mind was anxious. Very anxious. The second word was "easy-target". It was easily the most outwardly intimidating person in the room, and yet the best thing Val could find to compare it to was a water-logged puppy, curled up on the couch as it was. The juxtaposition of its frightful appearance and skittish mannerisms was somewhat jarring at first. After the initial surprise wore off though, it was a lot easier to read. Who would have thought such a freakish creature could have such transparent expressions?

With that assessment made, Val's eyes moved on.

The third Ward to enter, after the rat-thing, was a girl maybe a bit older than he was, dressed in a black catsuit with a white dress over it. Her mask covered her eyes, and not much else. He looked her over in more detail, and he saw....

Well, that was interesting.

She didn't have the usual kind of detachment that came from experience. It was lesser, but more familiar than that, like a blast from the past. Val hadn't expected to meet someone like that in a place like this. Of course, she was nowhere near as unhinged as the person he was thinking of, but the similarity was there. But, since he'd rather not think about that right now, he turned his gaze away.

Next up, was–

Oh, someone was talking to the rat-thing. It was another girl, older than the last one, and dressed in a gold-highlighted white dress and a likewise white mask. She was engaged in conversation with the anxious-looking rat-thing. She was claiming to be nervous as well, though he had an inkling it was for a somewhat different reason. Her odd reaction to her own words only served to reinforce his assumption.

Val tilted his head slightly to better hear their conversation. It was mostly just introductions, but at least he could finally put names to faces, even if it were only two of them. It was better than nothing.

Another girl walked, dressed brighter than the others, and Val shifted slightly to get a better look at her, never once pausing his coin-spinning; it was important work. Like the first girl to arrive, she was armoured, though hers was bright yellow. He wished he could wear armour, cooler armour than hers of course, but still. He wasn't going to hold his breath on that though. Fibres were one thing, but anything more solid was going to have issues. It was kind of surprising actually, the fact that so few of the Wards he'd seen were wearing body armour. Weren't they afraid of getting shot? He didn't think all of them were bullet-proof, or adjacent.

He couldn't get a good read on her yet; helmets were a bitch that way.

Soft words coming from the front drew his attention, and the words became clearer as he focused. Grandmaster told the dark-garbed Ward—the other one—something about his teammates not being inept, and their number too. His outburst after the fact was odd, though not entirely unexpected, considering his earlier remarks.

So, the Grump wasn't a fan of the way the Protectorate was handling the Wards? There was always at least one....

Grandmaster and Axion turned to each other and spoke briefly about someone who apparently should have been here. The last Ward, probably. Val was about to tune them out until Axiom pulled out an object from her suit which summoned several small containers from somewhere. Neat. He listened intently as she explained what they were and what they did. Some kind of protection from Master influences, which he believed 100%. No doubt, really. The earpieces would definitely....

.... Hold on, how was he supposed to–

His thoughts were interrupted by someone bursting through the door rather loudly.

The rat-thing Ward practically jumped out of its skin when it happened, and Val stifled an exaggerated laugh. The reaction of the Grump from before was similar, if a bit more combative. These guys were on a hair-trigger, weren't they?

The slightest noise and they freaked out. Like rats in a cage.

But, he would admit that entrance was unnecessary unless the newcomer was trying to scare someone. Unnecessary but fun, he'd imagine. Val's first impression of the new Ward was.... well, she was certainly pink, and purple. Other than that, she at least looked like she could hold her hold in a fight, which was more than he could say for most of the others.

She also looked familiar, but neither her face nor her costume rang any bells in his mind. If she was anyone important, he would have remembered.

Satisfied with having taken a look at everyone, he adjusted his position on the couch to make himself more comfortable, but not too comfortable. And with that done, Val closed his eyes and dozed off.

.... If only.

Hornet

You’ll adjust to arriving on time soon enough.

Coming from someone with Grandmaster’s reputation, that didn’t sound like a reassurance or a prediction; it sounded like an order. The guy had that kind of intensity to him; the kind of rigid professionalism that made her unconsciously straighten up her posture a bit more and left her feeling like she was about to be scolded for not polishing her costume more before she came here.

Maybe she was overthinking things, first day jitters and all that, or maybe the armour and all the guys with guns she passed on the way here and the fact that she was technically a government employee now put her in the mind set of thinking this was closer to the first day or boot camp than the first day of school. I mean, the Protectorate was an offshoot of the PRT right? They were kind of like a militarised police division or something; kind of like SWAT, but more specialised towards dealing with cape stuff? Yeah, that sounded about right. So the PRT and therefore the Protectorate and therefore the Wards, were all in the same vein as the police and the military.

Okay, yeah. Shit.

Probably best to think of anything Grandmaster said to her as an order and not a suggestion then.

Just in case.

Jessica wasn’t the last to arrive, but that wasn’t comforting information at the moment; if anything it just meant that she had the embarrassment of being late and still had to wait around for someone else before they could get started. The worst of both worlds. It sounded like whoever it was that had yet to show up was someone the heroes knew as well; one of the former Wards maybe, or an out-of-towner they were bringing in? They had expectations placed on them from the sounds of it, which probably meant they were different from the new recruits like herself.

She would find out soon enough. In the meantime, Jessica stepped forward to get a closer look at whatever glowing tinkertech thing Axiom had just placed on the table. Special earpieces that blocked out Master powers were cool and it was good to know that they were protected from some of the scarier Parahuman abilities out there, assuming they worked as well as the pitch made it sound, but at the same time looking at the innocuous devices gave her a sense of dread. It was the same as her armour; reassuring in their presence and at the same time deeply concerning that she needed them at all. Reaching out to pick one up, Jessica cracked it open to look at the small earpieces inside. She was wondering whether or not she could pass them off as off-brand AirPods or something when she felt someone new appear on the periphery of her power.

Well, truth be told, with her range there were more than a few people walking in and out of her new sense in a building this busy; learning out to tune it out and not get distracted was something she had been working on. But this particular person was walking down the corridor that led straight to this room and was moving with the brisk pace of someone in a hurry to get somewhere.

Guess this was the person they were waiting on.

Even that forewarning didn’t prepare her for the girl’s entrance though. Not the door flying open, nor the brightly coloured combat gear, nor the… everything else that came with the girl’s appearance, attitude and general demeanour.

As the newcomer stomped into the room, snapped at a member of the Protectorate and put her feet up on the table like she own the place, it wasn’t hard to get the impression that this girl was kind of full of herself; loud, obnoxious, a disregard for everyone else in the room and a clear disrespect for the supposed authorities in the room. Hell, Jessica couldn’t imagine being bold enough to act like that towards a seasoned cape, let alone with someone like Grandmaster in the room who, as she had previously noted, kind of scared her. But this girl was acting like she was the one in charge here, or at least acting like no one was in charge of her.

If Jessica didn’t already know exactly who this was, this first impression alone would have given her plenty of reasons to dislike this girl; she wasn’t looking to deal with someone’s overinflated ego with everything else that was going on. As it was, it was still a bad impression and she still didn’t like this girl, but that was slightly overshadowed by the fact that this was Shattercrash she was dealing with. The vigilante had a bit of a reputation in this city, to say the least and even someone who didn’t follow capes religiously like Jessica knew about the girl who was both a huge help to the PRT and an embarrassing thorn in their side at the same time. Any annoyance Jessica might have felt at the girl’s attitude problem was tempered by the fact that said girl could fold her up like a newspaper if she so felt like it.

So she wisely bit her tongue, folded her arms under her chest and didn’t say anything.

Tandems | PRT Headquarters, 8:46AM
June 19, 2021

---

Upon arriving outside the meeting room, Ashley briefly contemplated using her power to conjure a clone directly into the room. A moment’s consideration later and she'd scrapped the idea; while she was pretty confident the stunt would make for a good first impression if she could pull it off, that was easier said than done. Without a decent level of familiarity with the layout of the room in question – not to mention the locations of the people inside it – there was a substantial risk she'd end up teleporting somewhere awkward, which would make for a decidedly less good first impression. Oh well, there would be opportunities to show off her powers, and more importantly, to see her teammates’ powers, soon enough.

If anything, despite already being a bit late, the moment Ashley spent loitering outside the room, was somewhat of a blessing in disguise. It gave her the chance to check everything was in order, and in doing so, realise she'd forgotten to put her mask on when she'd left the dorms. She was absolutely going to get chewed out for that later – no doubt dozens of people had seen her blinking down the halls completely unmasked, not to mention the guy whose office she’d accidentally teleported into while trying to shortcut across floors – but getting yelled at could wait until later. Besides, as far as Ashley was concerned, it really shouldn’t have mattered in the first place whether or not she wore it, the veneer of plausible deniability that had been built up around her identity was so thin it was probably transparent, though PR emphatically refused to listen to reason on that point.

Slipping on her mask Tandem copied herself twice over, dismissing her remaining unmasked self in the process, and then stepped into the meeting room. She was quick to recognise the three Protectorate capes present; Axiom – the local Protectorate branch’s resident tinker and the hero that had inducted Tandem into the Wards – Nightstalker – Bridgewater’s preeminent monster cape – and Grandmaster – quite possibly the strongest cape in the city and the leader of the Bridgewater Protectorate. Tandem had seen all three of the older capes in action at one point or another over her own five years as a cape, multiple times even, but that didn’t change how cool it was to be in the same room as so many interesting people.

Speaking of interesting people…

Tandem turned her attentions towards her fellow Wards, excitement building up between her copies.

One of her selves quickly locked on to the tinker looking cape, currently engaged in conversation with Axiom – a tinker conversation perhaps. She promptly identified the Ward as most likely being Wattson. Her thing was making stuff that let her turn invisible, right? Or at least that was the obvious and/or PR approved aspect of her creations – as far as Tandem understood it, Tinker's were rarely so limited in scope, though what additional range of technology the Ward might be able to employ she could only guess at. Tandem wondered if her own thinker ability would help her use or understand the other Ward's technology; she’d never gotten the opportunity to inventory tinker tech before and was eager to find out. Even if she couldn't it'd definitely be worth asking Wattson about it – despite the maximum size of objects Tandem could store being fairly limited, she imagined there'd still be plenty of devices that her inventory could store which would otherwise be too cumbersome to bring into the field, and more importantly, she really wanted to see what her power made of the tech, even if it couldn’t help her use it.

While one instance of Tandem was observing Wattson, another Tandem’s interest had immediately been drawn to the large bird(?) creature. Right… She'd heard there was a bird monster on the team, not to mention having followed the rumoured sightings of the cape when he'd first showed up. Moonnin of something, whatever that meant. In any case, hearing a drunk vagrant ranting about Bridgewater’s Mothman was entirely different from actually seeing the guy in person. He had to be like 20 feet tall! Actually, was she even sure it was a guy? She’d kind of assumed it was but she wasn’t sure. Shifting her gaze downwards failed to provide Tandem with any insights – not that she knew what bird person genitals were supposed to look like in the first place – should she just ask them?

The third Tandem split her attention between two other Wards, whom she mentally labelled Hood 1 and Hood 2, based on the shared design element between their costumes. Did PR like hoods? Should she get one as well? Tandem was pretty certain that one of the hooded capes was Richter – one of the other live-in Wards who she hadn’t really interacted with much – and since the remaining hooded cape didn’t particularly look like a bee she figured they were probably either Ethos or Keystone. Why did everyone have to make things difficult for her by choosing really obscure names for themselves?

The Tandem examining the Muninn shifted its attention to the girl that was speaking to him. It was Faith she realised – or rather Decree while she was in costume – another one of the live-in Wards and for the time being Tandem’s only cape friend, though she hoped for that last part to change shortly. Faith was probably the least interesting cape in the room right now, if only because Tandem already knew what her power was and had had several opportunities to train with her, but still she was nice and the presence of a familiar face was somewhat comforting if anything.

Her scan of the room's occupants completed Tandem wondered if she should go up and introduce herself to some of her teammates. Already dozens of questions for her fellow Ward’s had begun to bubble up within Tandem’s shared minds.

Still, would it really be a good idea to just approach an unknown parahuman? One of the ways she’d kept herself alive and out of any gangs until recently was by being cautious – a process that absolutely didn’t include approaching several parahumans, who’s powers she didn’t know, in a setting within which she couldn’t easily run. Tandem supposed it might be okay since they were all meant to be teammates and heroes, but she also knew they were letting former villains onto the team – it was perfectly plausible that one or more of the new Wards was still secretly a member of some other gang, and was planning on bombing the room or using a shaker power to eliminate the new Wards team and cripple the local Protectorate. Or maybe one of them had been mastered or was just a master projection. Or any number of other horrifying prospects for that matter.

One of Tandem’s clones blinked out to be promptly replaced by a new one in one of the rooms far corners, a moment later she repeated the action with a different clone on the other side of the room. She was about to repeat the manoeuvre with her third clone when she thought of a better idea and instead shunted it to the floor below. The new clone ended up appearing in a relatively quiet hallway where it promptly took a seat near the edge of her range; that got it a few odd looks, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t also where she was supposed to be, and bomb threats were serious business so Tandem ignored the stares.

Thinking about it, she had introduced herself to Decree, which had gone fine, but no, that in itself was probably appropriate caution given the scenario – that was a parahuman living in close proximity to her, for all she’d known Decree could have had the power to slowly give you cancer or master you by spending enough time near you, actually that second one was pretty close to her actual power…

Shaking one of her heads, Tandem unanimously decided that now probably wasn’t the time to introduce herself to her fellow Wards, even if at the same time she really, really wanted to do so. No, she’d at least wait until she had a better idea of what she was dealing with, which would hopefully be very soon.

And if things broke down before then she’d make a beeline between floors until she was out of the building and then lay low until things cooled off. Tandem briefly contemplated slicking the floor with lubricant and ball bearings and blocking barricading the door with sandbags in the event that her escape became necessary, but quickly realised that unless everyone in the room turned out to have been mastered or to be part of a gang, that was off the table. And if it did turn out that everyone was secretly her enemy, then she should probably just drop a bomb before running… wait no it’d be wrong to do that to someone that’d been mastered and there were plenty of ways good people could be forced into gangs, not to mention the probably innocent civilians in the surrounding rooms.

Tandem settled herself in, fidgeting impatiently, her several pairs of eyes looking out for threats while she continued to ponder escape plans and waited for the meeting to actually get started. Perhaps if it were only one enemy she could throw a bowling ball at their head? Maybe not, she wasn’t meant to have those, maybe a manhole cover or one of the weights she’d stolen from the gym then…

Tandem was still pondering the matter several minutes later, when something interesting finally happened. Axiom producing a tinker tech cube, which she quickly demonstrated to be a storage device of some kind. Tandem wondered if it worked similarly to her own ability… some tinkers took inspiration from other capes right? So it was entirely possible Axiom had based the design off- the Tandem in the hallway shuddered as she pushed any thoughts of her cluster mate from their minds.

The things that’d been stored in the cube turned out to be more tinker tech, devices to protect against master effects according to Axiom. Did they work against all master effect? Would they mess with her ability to coordinate herselves? What would her thinker power make of it?

Tandem briefly wondered if she’d be able to spin things in order to get her hands on three of the devices since she had the bodies, but somewhat dejectedly realised she’d pretty thoroughly explained how her instances worked – why had she done that!? In any case she’d be able to create three instances of the device at least, so she should be able to keep on in storage for her power to analyse, provided she was willing to leave on of her clones unprotected that was, which if anything might be the right play – at least until she could be certain they weren’t secretly tinker tech bombs or mastering devices or something like that. Tandem felt pretty confident that Axiom was trustworthy and probably wasn’t secretly part of a gang, but caution was the name of the game.

Before Tandem could get her hands on the tinker tech and Axiom could finish explaining the function of its casing they were interrupted by a loud bang as the door was kicked open. Both Tandem’s in the room startled at the sound, and the instance that had still been fixated on security very almost tried to drop several litres of paint on the newcomer before initiating its escape plan, only barely being stopped by the Tandem in the hallway who’d been spared the brunt of the panic by virtue of separation.

As the hallway instance mentally offloaded some of her other selves’ anxiety onto herself, those in the meeting space identified the newcomer as the remaining live-in Ward, Shattercrash, even as the girl announced as much herself. Tandem couldn’t say she knew much about the girl other than having a vague idea of her power and that she was kind of intimidating. She’d tried to question the girl a couple of times previously, but not wanting to cause team friction, ended up retreating each time when she’d gotten the distinct impression she was about to get glassed.

Tentatively Tandem returned to what she was doing, one of her clones vanishing to be replaced by a new, far calmer copy, in proximity of Axiom, while her other instance returned to scanning for threats, its efforts only enhanced by the lingering panic.

Unsurprisingly, Munnin was scared out of his skin. Or rather, his feathers. One of them flew out and threatened to hit Grandmaster straight between the eyes of his mask. But it was caught between two of Grandmaster's fingers, which did not move an inch once they had the projectile. Anyone who was paying attention to him might've wondered whether his hands even moved, or if he was simply that fast. Seconds passed before he reacted, turning Munnin's feather over between his fingers while Shattercrash sat down and seemed to take zero responsibility for her tone deaf entrance. He would've been disappointed, but this was exactly what he expected from her, as were the uneasy reactions to her presence.

"We'll work on that," He said, idly. Was he talking about Keystone drawing a weapon in response? Munnin's nerves? Evie's lack of respect or consideration? Knowing him, it could've been all of the above, or something else entirely.

Turning his attention back to Keystone, the boy didn't have to finish his sentence for the elder hero to connect the dots. Rather than stone-cold admonishment, Grandmaster took a step to reassure him. "Let's just say you aren't the only one who can perceive flaws, and leave the rest for a later date." That was all the knowledge Keystone needed to have right now. As a thinker of a more overt stripe, he couldn't be trusted with certain things at the moment. Grandmaster was a few steps ahead of him, even now.

His comments got... A laugh out of Shattercrash. He had a bit more bark than the rest of these losers, from her read. "At least someone in this clownhouse has a brain." Was that her approving of him doubting the PRT? Only time would tell at this rate, if anything could. Evie ignored the glares, the feather bomb, and even Grandmaster's lack of appreciation at her entrance.

"Power dampeners are a little hit-or-miss on if they work. They're hard to find, and harder to apply to one person in particular. I'll ask around, I know a tinker or two who can try and work something out. But I can't promise anything right now," Axiom said to Keystone. The same tinker who gave them all their anti-master gear was the first one she'd talk to for shutting off Keystone's power when he needed.

Nightstalker walked over to the backside of the couch where Richter had fallen asleep, and snapped his fingers. It was loud, like he had slapped his hands together, to try and wake the boy.

"You can sleep later, Richter." Despite this, Nightstalker looked amused by Richter's dozing off.

Axiom kept her eye on Tandem and her clones, bouncing around the room repeatedly, staring at everything before settling down. That kid worried her a lot, with the way her cluster turned out, and the fact that her identity was about as open as open secrets could get. Perhaps sensing that some of these kids were keeping quiet because they were uneasy about their new lives, she decided to take over for Grandmaster.

The tinker stepped up to the table, in front of everyone, and removed her helmet. A few of them had seen her without it already, her hair was put up in a very messy bun, and she had a face full of freckles. "I can tell some of you kids still aren't sure about this. I want you all to know something, though: That's okay. You don't have to be so sure about this, because we're gonna be here, right by your side until you're able to stand on your own. One day, you'll have to. When you all hit 18, you'll be Protectorate like us, and the city's gonna have hope because of you."

"But that day isn't gonna be for a long time, alright? For now, you kids only need to worry about getting to know things, how to do them, and not worry about actually doing them. Whatever happens, we'll be there to help and support you." She hoped her words were reassuring, and they were genuine. The Protectorate's capes were fully intent on doing whatever had to happen to give the Wards the best possible future. Even Hellstar was in their corner.

Shattercrash rolled her eyes quietly. She didn't buy the platitudes, and hoped that at least one or two of these "teammates" of hers didn't either. For now, she kept quiet to pay attention.

"You've all been trained for a reason. You'll do well to remember it."

"Trained to do what exactly? Feds never gave me anything I didn't already know how to do. What exactly are we all workin' with here?" Straight to business. Shattercrash was an ass, but she had her reputation for a reason. "What powers do we all have around here?"

All Tandems | PRT Headquarters
June 19, 2021, 9:02

---

Tandem was surprised to see Axiom unmask herself so readily…


Tandem 3 | PRT Headquarters, Hallway
June 19, 2021, 9:03

---

… Was that a sign that they’d done some more in-depth background checks on her and her teammates? Axiom probably wouldn’t have unmasked to them so readily if there was any chance they might secretly be gang members, or mastered, or something like that, right?

Or maybe Axiom was just an idiot? Probably not, she seemed smart and could tinkers even be idiots in the first place? If their powers taught them the principles behind their technology, surely a certain level of intelligence would be needed in order to actually apply that knowledge… or maybe tinker powers worked more like some thinker powers and just sort of gave a recipe for tinkertech without requiring any sort of understanding? Tandem’s own thinker ability was a bit like that – if she chucked a book into her inventory for a couple of hours, she’d be able to recite its contents word for word, assuming she knew the language at least, but she wouldn’t gain any deeper understanding of its contents no matter how long she let it sit in there.

She decided to ask someone about it later, probably either Axiom or Wattson…


Tandem 2 | PRT Headquarters, Meeting Room
June 19, 2021, 9:03

---

… Argue as she might as to the necessity of having one of her own, Tandem did understand why it was important for most capes to have a secret identity. News hadn’t exactly been easy to come by while she’d been homeless – at least not the kind that concerned anything outside of her immediate environment and things that might affect that environment – but capes were pretty much Tandem’s favourite topic, and she’d talked about it enough to have at least some idea of the sorts of things that could happen when a cape’s identity got exposed. Not to mention that PR kept on drilling the concept into her. She wished they’d stop.

For capes, secret identities were a safeguard against other capes – the kinds of monsters that might decide that rather than risk going after another parahuman, it would be easier to just target their civilian friends or family… Which was why it seemed like kind of a big deal that Axiom would willingly unmask herself so soon. That was a major display of trust when literally every person in the know represented another liability, another avenue by which a loved one might be hurt.

Tandem felt a familiar pressure on her mind, her other selves pressing on her – trying to derail her from her current train of thought…

Of course, the risks of having a public identity only applied to most capes, and Tandem was lucky enough to be one of the ones who couldn’t really be targeted like that.

Most of her current friends were the kinds of people who had long since figured out how to lay low and fend for themselves; and even if they weren’t they’d already told her they weren’t the sorts of people anyone would bother with tracking down in order to get at her. And if she made new friends in her team they would have powers so that wouldn’t count.

… and it wasn’t she had any fam-

The instance was terminated and replaced.


All Tandems | PRT Headquarters
June 19, 2021, 9:05

---

Oops, she’d been getting distracted. There was so much to do and she was meant to be doing literally anything else. For starters, she’d stopped paying as much attention to her surroundings. That needed to be resolved. She also had to grab that tinkertech. And after she’d done that maybe she should go and introduce herself to her teammates in the end – right now seemed like a very good time to do something like that.

Collecting the earpiece, Tandem quickly duplicated it twice, making sure to keep at least one of her clones in the hallway at all times. Only once there were three copies of the tinker tech, did Tandem move to equip any of them, hesitating only slightly before curiosity got the better of her and she slipped the devices onto two of her three clones, the third copy being stowed into her inventory by the clone in the hallway.

Tinkertech acquired, Tandem turned her attention to her teammates and considered the best way to approach introducing herself. Maybe she should just come out and ask them how their powers worked? That was what she wanted to talk about, and what she assumed everyone else would also want to talk about. Who didn’t love power talk?

"What powers do we all have around here?"

Before Tandem could begin to question her teammates, Shatercrash beat her to the punchline; not that she would complain this made things far easier for her. Tandem jittered on the balls of her feet, the lingering shock and panic from earlier, rapidly giving way to excitement in anticipation of the power talk. When no one immediately spoke up, Tandem took that as her opportunity to do so.

"I can store stuff I touch and then put it back anywhere within a certain distance of one of my bodies," Tandem chirped, demonstrating the ability by briefly storing her mask before making it reappear in the air a foot or so in front of her head, deftly catching it before reaffixing it to her face. She hadn’t bothered to give herself any sort of introduction, not even thinking to, and instead jumping straight into the long-awaited power talk. "I also have another power that makes there always be two or three of me, and I can move them around, and they’re all me, so it doesn’t really matter if they get stabbed or something as long as one of me is okay. Oh, and I get good at using things that I have stored for a while. And…"

As reluctant as she’d been to speak before, now that she’d gotten started she struggled to stop. Nonetheless, Tandem cut herself off. There were so many things to explain about her power set and she was itching to tell them all, but that would take a while, and she could recognise that she was kinda butchering her explications right now, so she could at least wait until she was calm enough to do it properly. In any case, even more than she wanted to explain her powers, she really, really, wanted to hear about her team teammates'.

"Um, there’s lots and lots of things I can do with my powers but it will take a long time to explain them all…"

Tandem had intended to leave it at that, but was struck by a brilliant idea.

She dismissed and reconjured the clone she was using to interact with her teammates, repositioning it such that its back was pointed towards the adults. Then leaning in conspiratorially, Tandem created a fold in her poncho reaching into it as though she were the world's most conspicuous drug dealer reaching into their coat. She conjured several bags of confectioneries to her hand.

"Anyone want some candy?"

Tandem stored a bag to replace it with another, cycling through to show off her impressive collection. Technically speaking all of it was stolen, but that probably didn’t matter; it wasn’t like she could return it now or would even if she could for that matter.

---

PRT Headquarters, 9:05am
June 19th, 2021

The boy who pulled a knife upon Evie's arrival shed a bit more light on their visitor with his next words to Grandmaster. Faith did recall hearing snippets of news and gossip about a teenage vigilante. So, this was her? No wonder she seemed to have a chip on her shoulder. This girl immediately referring to the rest of them as a 'clownhouse' certainly didn't help Faith's impression of her.

Grandmaster was talking to the boy about power dampeners. She supposed he and possibly others in this room may have an easier time with a power dampener but as long as they all wore the earpeices as instructed, That's all Faith could ask for in regards to her own power. Axiom then stepped foward and removed her helmet. Faith had of course seen her without the helped several times during her frequent visits here the past month, but it was still surprising to see her take her helmet off in this room. Axiom's words were reassuring. Despite the training she'd already been given by the PRT that very few others had received yet, Faith could still tell she was among the least experienced people in this room when it came to, well, anything relating to Hero work.

Shattercrash's comment rubbed Faith the wrong way. Not all of them have been fighting crime for over a year. Just because the PRT hadn't taught Evie anything of value didn't mean they hadn't taught anyone anything. Faith was very proud of how far she'd managed to come in only a month due to the Protectorate's heavy training schedule. It was more than she'd ever dreamed of and she was excited to see how much she'd improve in the future. She kept this to herself of course. She still wanted to at least try to get along with everybody.

When she asked them all their powers, Faith relaxed a little. It was a good idea for everybody in the room to get to know each other, and their powers. The majority of the room as of yet hadn't even tried to break the ice with one another. Tandem went first. Faith had been shocked when she'd learned of Ashley's history. She was in Faith's eyes a good girl with a heart of gold, so to learn where she'd came from was very surprising. Faith had already listened to Ashley's explaination and seen it in action so instead of listening intently, she grabbed two of the metal cases, opened one, and put her earpiece on.

She turned and approached Shattercrash and Tandem. Ashley was showing bags of candy to the room. Faith gave Ashley a raised eyebrow. She hoped that wasn't too old. Or if it was fresh, that it wasn't stolen. Faith had tried to get Ashley to think and act more morally. Some little progress had been made, maybe?

Faith sighed, and looked back up to Evie. Normally Faith would have tried to put on a smile but she could sense that Evie would appreciate fake friendliness even less than honest weariness.

"My power, explained simply, is that if I say a command, anyone who can hear me is inclined to do it. The effect is more potent, the more those people trust me." Faith explained, before holding out her hand and offering Evie her earpiece. Faith was very tempted to tell Evie to take it and put it on. The effect in itself would be the best advertisement for why she should keep it on at all times. She decided against this. That action still went against her principles. "Even if people don't trust me at all, it still has an effect. So I merely suggest it might be a good idea for everybody to keep their earpieces on. That is what they're for."

---

In a weird sense, Landon was almost thankful for the (admittedly very frightening) arrival of Shattercrash, as it made the fact that he recoiled one of his giant wings from the mere touch of Decree a mere footnote on the mountain of other messes that immediately occurred afterwards. A burning sense of shame was starting to eat through him, given that very poor display. What an introduction; crying like a little baby at a loud noise and curling up into a ball. Sadly, though, it was simply instinctual. Hell, the noise was still ringing audibly in his canid ears, leaving his head pounding. Still, there were silver linings...Like the fact that all this built-up stress was actually growing him out a bit more, and with that, more of his lovely noise-cancelling fur and feathers, aiding to shut him out from whatever may be going on outside his bubble.

For a time, all Landon could hear was the collage of barely-audible voices from, what he assumed, were his fellow Wards. What snapped him out of it was when Ms. Axiom began to speak up; even when he could only just hear her, he could instantly tell it wasn't one of them, and it was enough to make him barely poke his head out, which...Made it astonishingly obvious. Yes, somehow, Landon had grown since he had last shown that featureless face of his, by at least a few feet. All the piling up tension and anxiety was really getting to him! But as Axiom unmasked herself and tried her best to ease the energy of the room. For Landon, at least, it worked; while a knot certainly grew in his stomach at the comment that, one day, they would have to stand alone, he took great comfort that those with seniority in both age and experience would be there to protect and guide them, for as long as they could. Just as suddenly as he had seemed to shoot up in size, the others could also visually see him downsize, getting just about to where he was a few minutes ago; perhaps even a smidge smaller. His eyes were definitely on the adults now.

...However, embarrassing as it was, there was a brief spike in his activity once more when Grandmaster spoke a single, simple statement. Their training...How could he forget? Sure, they'd figured out pretty quickly that as far as his actual powerset went, Landon had an astonishingly firm grasp on it, but when they tried to actually make him combat ready? He froze up. Made a fool of himself. He...He was scared. He was terrible at confrontations, and a fight was that and so, so much more. And so much worse! Even then, though, he had managed to pick up a thing or two. He just hoped it'd be enough for him not to be a deadweight on the team...

When the next voice spoke up, Landon's body instinctually bristled. It recognized that voice; the loud one who'd slammed in here without a care in the world. His eyes darted quickly to look them over. She was...Well, she was as colorful as she was loud, is how he'd put it. It was more purple than he'd ever seen on a single thing in his life, from her hair to costume, which looked closer to a SWAT suit than the ol' cape and spandex. There was also that scar, running across the bridge of her nose. He couldn't imagine what would've caused an injury like that, though...In fairness, he'd never really been injured before, especially not so badly as to gain a scar. Her words, however, are what caught him the most. Really? The training hadn't done anything for her? That was...An intimidating prospect. For him, however brief his time training had been thus far, it was a grueling ordeal. To imagine somebody so nonplussed about it made him feel all that much smaller.

...Which made it quite ironic that that mounting tension in his body caused him to grow out a bit once more, new feathers and fresh patches of fur growing in as his body grew out just that bit more.

Still, her question hadn't gone unnoticed, and two people had already answered her. One was...Um, wait. Were there...Three of her? His eyes darted to and fro, uncertain as to whom he should be looking at. Would it be rude if he looked at the wrong one? Or was there even a 'wrong' one? What would it even be like, having multiples of yourself?...He knew he certainly wouldn't like the idea of more of himself, at least. Though at least then, he'd have someone who'd get what all this stuff feels like. Briefly shaking his head, Landon tried to focus himself on what exactly she was talking about. Powers, yeah! So, she could put stuff away into a little pocket space or some such, and have it pop out anywhere amongst her three selves, which (thankfully for him) she clarified as all being 'her'. So they were all the right one! It was pretty much impossible to catch underneath all his fur, but Landon gave a sigh of relief. There was more she was starting to say, but it seemed she had cut herself off, perhaps wanting to avoid rambling. He could get that. However, what he didn't expect was when she began bringing out several bags of candy. Where had she gotten it all?...Would he even want to know? Still, it was a nice gesture, and....Well, he hadn't gotten to eat anything before he headed out.

With a disturbing lack of noise, Muninn rose from the couch, towering over the other residents of the room. He very tentatively approached Tandem, his pearlescent eyes wavering with concern. Both that he'd make a full of himself, or that he might end up scaring somebody; especially the person in question that he had approached. "Are...Are you sure? I can try one?" Once she gave her assent, he very cautiously picked out a small taffy of sorts, which looked comically small trapped between his talons. To be honest, Landon was dreadfully curious how this would taste. He'd never really had sweets before...After fumbling with the wrapper for a brief moment, he had freed his treat, and hastily popped it into his...Fur? Well, it did make it to his mouth, but he ate it this way so he didn't have to show it off. Of all the parts of this form, that thing really freaked him out. It had even given Claire a start when she first saw it, and he understood how bad of a sign that had to be. So...Better if it stayed tucked behind all the fluft.

Landon went about chewing down the sweet, and you could see his large eyes somehow growing larger. They were called 'sweets', but having never had much of anything sweet in his life, it was like a explosion in his mouth. To the point where, at first, he even staggered back a bit, as if physically struck. The striking sensation he was experiencing was even enough to pull away from his stress and fears, bringing him down to size and evening him back out to about how he looked prior to Shattercrash's abrupt arrival. When he finished it, however, he realized he'd almost forgotten to show his appreciation. While it was definitely too polite of a showing for such a small action, the nearly 13-foot birdman gave a deep bow. "Th-thank you! Very much!" Landon was a lot of things, but impolite was never one of them.

Shortly afterwards, however, his attention was stripped away as the girl he'd been speaking to prior, Faith (or rather, Decree; what a cool-sounding Cape name!), gave her piece. Her power was...Honestly, given his experience from before, exactly what he would've expected. So, her words can hold sway over people...No wonder she'd been stressed out before, worrying about what she could've done to him. Still, what caught him even more off-guard was the mention of earpieces. Wait, when did...? Oh. It might've been around where he had...Curled into a ball. Again. His ears drooped in quiet shame upon the realization, but he pushed past it, picking up one of the fancy boxes that held these earpieces. How...Would these work for him? Sure, it wasn't like he didn't have ears, but they weren't exactly human ones, either....A sudden spine-tingling realization crossed his mind. Was his brain even human when he was like this?! With a new onset of terror, whatever the sweet had done to bring him down to ground level had been left in the dust, another abrupt spurt of growth showing up as he quietly pondered that terrifying implication. The whole time he pondered such a thing, he never even moved to open the casing and take his earpieces. He probably should've, but...Well, he only had Decree to worry about, right? If what she'd tried earlier was the norm, then he didn't feel too concerned. And besides, it felt cruel to him, practically calling her out by having these things be a necessity for their team. So, for now, he'd leave it be....Though if one of the adults pushed for it, he'd no doubt scurry to put them in however he could manage.

Recognizing the lull of activity after Decree gave up her power, Muninn realized this could be a chance for his own introduction. But...Could he honestly do that? Maybe he'd be better off if he...No! Nope! Those thoughts were the exact kind of things Claire had warned him about! Giving himself a quick pat to the head to snap him into things, he (albeit with no small amount of reluctance), spoke. "Ah....I, well...I think it's a bit self-explanatory. I have wings. I, uh, can fly. Pretty well, I think! I'm stronger than a normal person, though, um...I'm not sure by how much. I haven't tried that hard in...In those regards." His giant pale eyes darted nervously across the myriad faces around him, anxious for reactions. Wait! No! He could still say more stuff! Maybe it'd be important! "Oh! Uh, my fur? I-It kinda works like a sound muffler. I think...It's why I still sound so quiet, even though I'm so big. Vocally, I mean. When it comes to moving around and the like, I'm completely silent. Same with my feathers, like an owl, almost. Though, I can't do the whole, um...Y'know..." Nervously, he twists his head as far as he could, showing that he could not, in fact, rotate his head like an owl's. God, if he could, he'd be even more scared of himself. He gave a pathetic little laugh at his best attempt at a joke.

"Ah!" Landon started up again, dropping as much as he could before he was inevitably shot down and likely skulked back into the shadows - of both this room, and of the conversation. He pointed out his eyes and ears. "I have a...Kind of night vision? I'm...I'm not entirely sure how to explain it, but I can see well in the dark. And my ears are sharp, too! A...Little too sharp." His big eyes glanced towards Shattercrash, not quite accusingly, but...More like pleadingly, as if to say 'Please, don't do that again. Please.' Lastly, he flexed his arms out a bit, showing them in all their unusually scaly glory. "Parts of me that aren't covered up already are, um...Like this. The scales are pretty tough. And my talons, uh, can cut through quite a lot. I'd...Rather not give an example though."

Alright, he'd said his piece. Awkwardly, given his staggering size, Muninn shuffled away from the center of attention. In fact, were it not for him clearly standing heads and shoulders above her, it'd almost look like he was shadowing Decree, as if using her like a barrier between himself and whatever future conversation broke out.