An Everdistant Horizon (Worm/Horizon Series)

[Draconis]

Missing the Threadmark but good chapter

 

[AlSmash]

This is a deleted scene from 5.2. We felt that it did not fit well with the general flow of the story, and as a result, we snipped it. However, it still can add to the story and provide additional details, so here we go.

---

Isaiah Knight
Callsign 'Reaper'
Brockton Bay, MA
May 21st, 2011
0503 Zulu Hours (GMT-5)

It seemed that despite the minor setbacks, fortune still favored them. The downpour of rain provided excellent cover and the decision to wait an additional day had allowed everyone to position themselves better just as Skidmark began to lower his guard.

Which only enhanced the belief that Skidmark was a patsy for someone else. No intelligent individual would do something as stupid as beginning to relax only a few days after effecting a mass casualty event.

Nonetheless, that was what Skidmark had done and he would pay dearly for such stupidity.

"All Wolves in position," the communication from their overwatch, a drone operator loitering a Predator overhead. It was certainly not what he wanted after reading the report of Hebert's new machine, but it still did its job and that was all that mattered.

They had all the intel that they required. The Merchants had been quite forthcoming with all of their usage of cellphones, not knowing that they were being monitored the entire time. As a result, everyone knew exactly where the Merchants had holed themselves up, but more importantly, where Skidmark and Mush were currently located. Squealer was a non-issue, according to intercepted conversations. It appeared that Skidmark had been unhappy with her.

The only missing target was Trainwreck, but from the signal interceptions, re: Skidmark's profligate usage of his cell phone, Skidmark didn't know either.

But it didn't matter. After tonight? They would have their answers, one way or another.

He pulled down his goggles, bathing his vision in series green light, before raising his rifle and patting Marian on the shoulder, receiving a slight nod before keying his mic.

"Wolf Lead to Wolves. Execute."

They then moved into the alley in silence, weapons raised. In his mental map, he knew that all eleven other members were spread amongst five teams as they approached their target, the rain and shadows serving to mask their approach.

With the rise of heroes and villains, it had also witnessed the emergence of what the cape community simply referred to as 'cape-killers'. Not in the concept of singular individuals, but groups of unpowered individuals who banded together to deal with capes. Back in the day, capes went out of their way to eliminate such groups. Nowadays, however, cape killing teams were a rarity, and those that existed were either damned good at their job.

Or they were government sponsored.

His team, however, did not specifically target capes unless their mission profile required it. If a cape did become involved, however, they were likely to just become another dead body by the time his team was done.

While cape killing was no different than killing another human being, there was an added dimension to it. You could not go after a cape half-cocked, while some amateur might get lucky, more often than not they became just another statistic. Another idiot added to the supposed "invincibility" of capes to normals.

Hunting a cape was akin to hunting big game. You need to know everything about your quarry, otherwise all it took was one underestimation, one mistake, and you ended up a statistic.

But perhaps more importantly, you never hunted alone.

That was what his Wolves were. They weren't just the team that was sent by Hexa to deal with nasty issues that their patrons didn't want to have their fingerprints on. They were professional killers who hunted the most difficult of quarries.

And right now, as they approached their target, they took advantage of a Brockton Bay urban legend revolving around the Empire Eighty Eight. One that had first been started by Kaiser in his early days suggesting that the Empire had in reserve a group of former soldiers who subscribed to their beliefs, killing and disappearing people in the middle of the night.

It was a legend steeped in some truth. Victor did have a unit of men and women who could do what was whispered, but they were rarely employed in such a way. Instead, these 'Jäger' were used more as an elite honor guard for Kaiser, and when not him, spent their time protecting Othala. Still, it was the matter that the legend existed in the first place that lent credence and provided them with a smoke screen to do this and muddle any beliefs by Taylor Hebert that Vice President Ryan had ignored her warning.

Marian Channing, his second in command, came to a stop in front of him, holding up her open hand calling him to stop.

"Three contacts," her whisper sounded in his ear, "twenty meters, surrounding a barrel."

She slowly backed, allowing him the opportunity to look over her shoulder and around the corner, sighting her contact. Sure enough, there were three Merchants huddled around an open flame in a barrel underneath and some sheet metal that provided protection from the elements.

Leaning back, he made a decision, "Engage the rightmost target, I'll handle the other two. On my mark."

"Copy."

"Mark."

They exploded into motion, whipping around the corner, Isaiah sighting down his scope as he acquired his first target. With a quick trigger pull, a soft sharp crack sounded just as another sounded from Marian's weapon. Without even waiting to confirm, he acquired the second target and pulled the trigger again.

All of this happened in less than a second, and all three targets fell to the ground, never becoming aware that they were under attack. They both moved quickly, weapons scanning around even as they moved towards the building where they knew where Skidmark was hiding.

Coming to a stop at the door, they positioned themselves to cover their backs as he keyed his mic.

"Lead, in position. Three kills. Sitrep"

He received quick responses from the rest of his team

"Two, in position. One kill."

"Three, in position. One kill."

"Four, reaching position. Two minutes."

"Five. In position. One kill."

"Copy."

Everything was going according to plan, all threats on the outside had been eliminated, and now all that remained was breaching the building and capturing Skidmark. That was what Four was doing, taking one of the ladders up to the roof so they could look in on their targets, providing final intelligence while also positioning to deal with Skidmark himself.

For that, one member of each team had an underslung attachment on their rifles. The only ordnance within it was a crystalline 'spike' that would deliver a nerve agent to their target. It had been a purchase made from Heisenberg, a chemical Tinker for Toybox. From time to time, Hexa commissioned the black market organization to provide them with tools and equipment for their missions. It was patently illegal for a governmental organization to do so, but because Hexa was considered a private company, they were not beholden to such restrictions. Even if they were basically part of the government.

Against non-brutes, it was an effective weapon, able to quickly incapacitate a target and not be restricted by things like clothing or light armor with its ability to penetrate into the target and deliver its cargo. And for Skidmark, who most certainly did not have a brute rating, it was perfect.

"Four. In position. Five hostiles. Target sighted. Ready to engage."

Once again, he wished that he had the Focus device that Hebert had provided his sister. The ability to see through walls and have targets identified and highlighted would make breaching so much easier. Instead, it was going to be done the old-fashioned way.

"Bang and Breach," he quietly commed, even as he raised his goggles back up. They would only be a hindrance once they breached into the brightly lit building, "When you're ready, Four."

"Roger, Lead. Hold tight."

He glanced over at Marian, who had likewise removed her goggles, her expression focused as they exchanged a look, in her hands a pair of stun grenades as he placed his hand on the handle, ready to wrench the door open so she had a clear path..

"On my mark, Team. Three. Two. One. Breach. Breach. Breach."

On the first 'Breach', he had already flung the door open, Marian pulling the pins and throwing her stun grenades. The cacophony of a string of explosions sounding the only signal needed as she brought her weapon up and moved in, him following her in

"Skidmark down," sounded in his ear, but it was all background noise, the cracks of subsonic gunfire reverberating off the walls as targets were engaged. His own weapon joined the din as Marian and himself swiftly eliminated a Merchant who was staggering around like a drunk from the stun grenades.

In only a few moments it was over, and he moved through the warehouse, his weapon at the ready for any possible threats. But there were none, instead, he moved towards the target as another one of his men was already taking a kneeling position, rifle shouldered as he withdrew plastic zipties and secured them around Skidmarks' wrists.

"Fucker smells bad enough without him shitting his pants," Elend muttered, as he finished securing Skidmark. It was one of the side effects of the nerve agent. It caused the target's muscles to completely relax, resulting in such unfortunate things like voiding of bowels.

Isaiah didn't say anything, instead keying his mic, "Overlord, Wolf Lead, package secured. Require extract."

"Roger, Wolf Lead. Extract in thirty."

"Copy, Overlord," he replied, watching as Elend threw Skidmark over his shoulder. He cast a glance at his other men, who silently awaited the orders for what was required next.

"Set up the scene."

Nothing else needed to be said, as they began moving, reaching into their pouches and extracting spray cans. Satisfied, he rejoined the formation as the rest of the team arranged themselves around the package. The soft hiss of spray cans being used was the only indication of the men's work as Isaiah moved with the rest of them towards their extraction. Another pair of his team broke off, reaching into their pouches and extracting long cylindrical tubes.

"Tags applied," Steve, his trusted left hand's voice sounded on the headset. The 'Tags' being carefully applied gang iconography of the Empire Eight-Eight. Just another layer to the deception, it would ensure that by the time anyone was able to put together what happened, if they were ever able to, would be lost in the rest of the noise in the next twenty-four hours. It also suited the longer term goals that Cardinal had in regards to the Brockton Bay, leaving far too many questions that couldn't be answered by any side.

"Light it up," Isaiah ordered as a pair of beat up vans pulled up. Vehicles that would easily pass for something that the Empire used. Getting into the vehicle, they secured their captive, as the rest of the team moved into their transportation. The last thing he saw before the doors slid shut was the flames quickly beginning to engulf the building, the stored drugs acting as an accelerant, and then they were on their way to their next destination..

It was time to get to the next part of the mission.

 

[AlSmash]

Interlude 5.C

---

Dennis Peters

May 21st, 2011

Brockton Bay, MA

Tap - Tap - Tap

My concern is that the Ward in question has shown a noticeable increase in aggression and a growing disregard for procedures designed to safeguard—

No. That was too extreme. He erased it for the umpteenth time and started again.

Given the previous actions of Shadow Stalker and her attitude causing friction within the team, I am concerned about…

Dennis sighed, leaning back in his chair. The Wards common room was quiet, the crazy day having driven everyone out to find what relaxation they could. Missy and Lily were touring the town. And Chris was… somewhere.

And Dennis was doing paperwork. Not the boring paperwork. Not the dotted I's and crossed T's that came with the job. This was the paperwork that was filed and remembered. That was pulled out and referenced in interviews and hearings. Disciplinary hearings.

Liam had left after a pat on the shoulder and a steady look in Dennis's eyes. The big teen didn't talk much, but he made himself heard all the same. When he wasn't passing under everyone's notice. Seriously, the guy should have a Stranger rating.

And… he was distracting himself. Twisting his pen around in his fingers, he tried to find the right words. Some people had a way with words. Found the perfect way to put everything they were feeling on to paper. Take all the sharp edges of emotions and press them flat.

Dennis didn't have that. How do you write that you're feeling while you're betraying a friend for a good cause? That your judgment wasn't based on evidence, but growing concern, gut feeling, and past experience?

He remembered the fight earlier today. Not the fight itself, but the aftermath. The groaning bodies on the ground, the ones who lay still enough to invite questions and concerns. Kid Win, hovering above it all. Even through his mask, Dennis could see satisfaction. Not at a job well done. Not at saving his team.

But at putting down a threat.

It was the same look that Sophia had when she spoke of her patrols.

Dennis wrote again. My concern is that Kid Win is looking to prove himself after his previous difficulties. The actions in Boston were the catalyst for an escalation of force that is not in keeping with the goals of the PRT, the Wards, or the Protectorate. It's my recommendation as Wards Leader, that Kid Win be removed from active service, pending counseling and psychological evaluation for fitness to act as a law enforcement officer.

Neat, tidy, clinical. And it did nothing to ease the twisting in his gut. It was the kind of language that the doctors used to describe his father's prognosis. Reality held at arm's length. Sharp edges were still sharp. Even if they were polished now.

Tilting his head back he brought his hands up to his forehead, and ran them down until they cupped over his mouth as he stared up into the fluorescent lighting, letting the stress flow out of him

The shrill sound of the door alarm shattered whatever peace Dennis had found. Blinking in confusion, he slipped his helmet on, his hands moving faster than his understanding as he moved into the common room from his office. Understanding fled faster when a lean blond haired man walked in. Nice civilian clothes, wind-swept hair and a quiet confidence that raised Clockblocker's concerns a few inches.

Because whoever he was wasn't part of the regular PRT staff. And he had just walked into the Wards Common room.

"Sir, this is a restricted area," Clockblocker stood, his earlier tension finding a productive outlet. "I'll need to see some identification. Or things will get complicated fast."

The man smiled slightly. "Good instincts. But it would be awkward for the Protectorate to try and detain me. There are perks to being the boss."

Clock relaxed slightly, there was no way he would be able to forget that voice. He heard it enough in Boston to know it by heart.

"Legend."

"It's Keith when I'm like this. Can I call you Dennis?"

"Uh. Sure." Dennis replied numbly, sliding his helmet off. Legend was in the Wards Common room. Offering an informal chat. Okay then. Moving on.

"Great," the leader of the Protectorate flashed a smile and sat down on the couch.. Dennis found himself spinning his chair around, taking a cautious seat, trying to edge his paperwork out of eye-sight.

"You know, when it was decided that you would be Brockton Bay's Ward Leader," Keith started, "I had concerns. I never agreed with how promotions are just handed to the oldest Ward. Some people just aren't cut out for leadership."

Dennis swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, because knowing that the leader of the Protectorate took a personal interest in your city and career meant nothing good, "And you thought that about me?"

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't. You never did do a lot to endear people on the idea that you could be responsible. I just so happen to know that there is a dartboard in Imaging's breakroom with your face plastered on it that is replaced every week. Glenn Chambers has still not forgiven you for your…unique choice of a hero name."

Dennis snorted. Back then, it had been absolutely hilarious, being able to pull one over on the stuffy Protectorate and PRT. It had defined who he was, the jokester, always with a quick joke and big smile. Now, however, he realized how childish it had been. A fit of pique to hide how uncomfortable and boxed in he had felt back then.

Humor had always been his coping mechanism. If he had a smile on his face, then people wouldn't know the pain he hid.

"But then I read the reports from Boston. I read about a young man who threw himself into the thick of an Endbringer fight without any regards for his personal safety. How that same young man in the aftermath immediately sought out ways that he could help save lives. I read about how when others went home, he still stayed, helping to stabilize patients so they could be transported to other locations to be saved. How when he finally went home, he assisted in the removal of a shipwreck so more lives could be saved. And not once, did he ask for any recognition."

Dennis swallowed thickly. For a moment, he wasn't in the air conditioned calm of the PRT building. He was in the rain, the muck, and the cold of Boston. His hands caked in mud and blood, soaked completely to the bone. The sounds of battle, of the monotonous reports signifying a growing list of casualties that seemed without end. The screams, the explosion, the sight of Leviathan towering over all of them as water became a weapon.

Being so terribly small and insignificant.

Then the aftermath. The desperate eyes of people looking for hope. The costume that he wore signifying hope to them. And his powers, his ridiculous powers to stop time. To stop death in its tracks. But he couldn't go faster. Time was against him. And Death never tired.

Dennis closed his eyes, and slowly opened them, finding himself back at his table. Legend watched him with heavy eyes. If pressed, the Ward wouldn't be able to say if it was pity, respect, sadness or regret that the man looked at him with.

"Sometimes, it takes going through a crucible in order to discover who they really are, Dennis. Boston was the crucible for you and your friends. I wish, more than anything, it didn't happen. But you and your team have every right to feel proud of what you did."

Dennis wanted to deflect the praise. Make a quip, or a joke, or something to distract the way that Legend's earnest compliment hit him in ways that were too sensitive to examine right now. Dennis nodded mechanically, letting silence fill the room.

But because silence gave him room to think, he broke it the first chance he got.

"Do you ever feel ridiculous, sir?"

Legend laughed, short and sharp, "Gods yes. Standing around a few dozen people in business suits, while I'm in a skintight outfit and a domino mask is… one hell of an experience if you stop to think about it."

Dennis gave a thin smile, glad that he didn't feel like the odd man out. The senior hero caught it immediately, "I take it you felt a little odd? Maybe today working with the police and the troopers?"

A shrug, carefully calibrated to seem uninvested, "I felt like the clown at a birthday party."

Legend leaned forward, "But that's the trick Dennis. It's supposed to be that way." He carried on, "The Wards, and the Protectorate, are modeled after the idea of 'heroes'. Heroes, by unspoken definition, are singular. No two heroes are the same. So standing out is the goal. Grabbing attention is the goal… most of the time. There's an argument to be made about some heroes not wanting to draw attention. But I prefer the attention grabbing heroes. Because once you have the public's attention, you get to decide what to do with it. Do you speak to them? Use that moment of attention to encourage them towards some goal? Or do you let your actions speak for you, and inspire by example?"

Sitting dumbly for a moment, Dennis tried to process this. It had never been explained in such a way to him before. And it certainly gave him a few things to think about. But by now, he was relaxed enough to voice the question that was actually bothering him.

"Sir…do you think it's right to do bad things for good reasons?"

The question was dropped with all the subtlety of a rock in a pond. It had none of the grace that Dennis was hoping for. But then, maybe he was done with grace. More and more, his life revolved around honesty. And sometimes honesty was a cinderblock. Other times it was a summer breeze.

Legend actually paused, thinking about his response. "Dennis, take it from me. That is an easy road to get lost in. It's the start of most justifications. But… I believe that if you can separate 'bad', 'painful', and 'evil'... then I think you can say yes, sometimes painful things are needed to have good outcomes."

The man continued, "Medicine has lots of examples of painful effects with positive outcomes. Cleaning an injury with alcohol, setting a bone, and so on… a lot of people use references to medicine when justifying their actions. And what separates the 'painful' from the 'bad/evil' is if you can communicate clearly with someone, and have them accept your rationale. Explain your cause and effect. A doctor is clearly able to explain why you are experiencing pain as part of your treatment."

Dennis sat with that for a moment. It was heavy, in old memories of doctors explaining treatments to his father. All of which translated to 'This thing will kill you over a long time, and we're using it to kill the thing that will kill you faster'.

Legend nodded gently at the open door of the Ward Leader office that Dennis had left open. "I take it your question had something to do with what happened this afternoon?" At Dennis's sharp look, the leader of the Protectorate looked sheepish. "I spoke with Dauntless, who passed along the police report of the operation. Do you want to talk about it?"

Dennis sat up a little, squaring his shoulders. "No thank you sir. I'll have my report done soon. You can read it then."

Leadership sucked. But being powerless sucked more. Dennis was learning in real time that responsibility meant the highs and the lows.

"Making the right decision isn't always easy, but true leadership is having the courage to make it regardless. That's what being a leader is about, Dennis," Keith leaned forward, making the Wards room sofa seem more grand then it was, "and I'm proud to see any of my Wards grow. It gives me hope for the future."

"Thank you sir," he finally said, and he meant it.

"Think nothing of it," Legend smiled, "just keep going and keep growing, that's all any of us can do. I think you will do a good job, Clockblocker, but if you need anything, even just someone to talk to. Feel free to shoot me an email. I'll make sure my filters will let you through."

Legend then got to his feet, "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have other duties that I have to take care of before I head back to New York. Again, if you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out."

"I will. I don't think anyone would turn down an offer from The Legend," Dennis snarked, letting a little bit of that Clockblocker into it. The chuckle from Legend told him that it hit the target, as the older man shook his head in mock exasperation.

They then said their goodbyes, and Legend left Dennis alone in the common room, accompanied only by his thoughts. For a few minutes, he just sat there, letting the silence fill the solitude of his thoughts.

It was sobering. Legend was right, in a way, Boston had been a crucible. The problem was he wasn't sure he liked what came out of it as time went on. Oh, he might snark and complain about being in charge, but part of him liked it. It meant having a proper voice in things. It meant being able to actually look out for people.

But being the Wards Leader wasn't what he envisioned for his future.

He had joined the Wards for a myriad of reasons. Primarily to help his dad, but also because he had thought being a hero would be fun.

Now his father was healed thanks to Armsmaster and the shine of being a hero had long worn off. In its place was the honest truth of the job. It was difficult, it was challenging, unpredictable, and fulfilling in a strange way.

He just wasn't sure he wanted it to be his life.

Walking back into his office, he gently shut the door, before walking back to his desk. Settling into his chair, he paused for a brief moment, before he began again.

Kid Win is a dedicated Ward that is coming into his own, having successfully developed his Tinker specialization. As Wards leader, my concern is that he is now looking to overcompensate for his perceived failures in the past, which leads to a disregard for teamwork, communication, and PRT/Wards protocols. His actions have begun to mirror the previous actions of Shadow Stalker prior to her reassignment. Given the delicate nature of cooperation within the Wards teams, due to personnel changes inside the ENE Protectorate and new Wards transferring in, this is a situation that could deteriorate. I am formally asking that Kid Win be removed from active patrol and placed on psychiatric evaluation for problems of self worth, and trauma over the events of the Boston-Endbringer-Defence.

There. That would work. Gentle, in the same way that a scalpel is gentle. Hitting everything that it should, and leaving everything else alone.

A vibration pulled his mind away from paperwork and sour feeling that he was betraying a friend for trying to help. Pulling out his phone, he checked the message.

Food. Tonight. Rooftop nests. Your choice. Y/N?

This wasn't his work phone. It was his personal one. He was trying more and more to have a personal life away from work, and this was part of it. He typed back.

Yes. Time? You in a mood?

The reply came immediately.

Fuk U

Oh yes. She was in a mood.

With a goal in sight, he finished the last of his paperwork. His mind already considering options.

---

AEH​

---

For years, Brockton Bay was a city in decline.

It meant that there were plenty of places left empty. Of various conditions and levels of habitability. Some of them were even in somewhat respectable areas of town. Emphasis on the 'somewhat'. A fact that Dennis was keenly very aware of as he walked down the street with one hand free and the other balancing a pizza box. Baseball cap pulled low. The classic example of someone not interested in anyone's business.

Crusty Pete's was an oddball to say the least. Jokingly referred to as Fugly Pete's, it was an 'Italian ristorante' that danced the line between fine dining and Italian fast food, depending on who you asked. You could have the finest quality Bistecca alla Fiorentina served to you or you could choose a cheaper option and slum off the buffet that served pizza, pasta, and bread by the carb load. It made the destination popular with all walks of life. They even had takeout and pickup.

But what Dennis appreciated most, was it had the best New York Style pizza in Brockton Bay. The crust was always crisp in all the right places, and perfectly foldable. He always made it a point to have at least one outing to Pete's a month just for the pizza alone.

It was his turn to pick the food, so he was getting a proper pie.

This would be their fourth meet-up. He still hadn't had the opportunity to do the Star Wars marathon due to his new responsibilities, but also because his father was rather clingy of his Aleph Edition of Star Wars. And he didn't want to say it was for a girl, because he knew his dad would happily give it then, but would want to know about Tammi.

Which was honestly understandable, considering the differences between the Aleph and Bet versions. Unlike Aleph, Bet's version of Star Wars never reached the juggernaut that Aleph became, amounting to only three commercially successful movies. But not successful enough for the prequels

It was still hotly debated on the forums but the general consensus was the casting choices Lucas made, as well as the ending of Revenge of the Jedi. Jodie Foster as Princess Leia was certainly different once you watched Carrie Fisher in action. That wasn't to say Jodie didn't do a great job, but the energy was different.

Al Pacino as Han Solo, on the other hand, was a…certainly a choice, and he never seemed to be comfortable in the role. It was probably why Lucas kept to his original plans for the third movie where the Emperor is killed, but it was a pyrrhic victory with Leia leading a savaged rebel alliance, Han dying, and Luke going off into the sunset.

As a result, Star Wars remained a cult classic on Bet, but when Professor Haywire opened a portal to Earth Aleph, media began to be exchanged and one of those was Star Wars

Needless to say, Bet's George Lucas was less than pleased at his Aleph counterpart, fighting a rather nasty court battle to stop the distribution of the Aleph version. He won, but by that time there had been tens of thousands copies sold.

Since his dad didn't want to part with his copies, Dennis found himself looking to buy a set himself off the nerve. The only problem was the cheapest one went for over two thousand dollars. It was a decent chunk of change, but between the money that was dispensed to everyone who were involved with the dismantling of the Boston Corona and the salary he made as a Ward (which got a decent raise with his promotion to Leader), he would be able to afford it next month.

No one should be deprived of one of the greatest sagas ever to hit the silver screen. He hoped one day he could get his hands on the supposed 'expanded universe' books he had heard about. Just the idea of a Star Wars after Episode Six was enough to make him giddy.

Ducking around the corner of a boarded up restaurant, he slipped through the side door. Thumping the crossbar back into place.

It was dim, hardly any light slipped through the boards across the windows. He raised his voice intentionally. "You could have at least left a light on! If I drop this pizza, I'm making you get a replacement."

Picking his way through the room, his way was blocked by the massive cooking range that sat crooked along the back wall. It looked like someone had given a valiant effort to remove it, but then gave up.

Of course, they didn't have cheating powers.

"Speak friend, and enter!"

Dennis's declaration died slowly in the muffled silence of the old shop.

The cooking range lifted silently, drifting a few inches off the ground, and twisted to the side.

"You are such a dork."

Dennis stepped through the revealed doorway with a grin on his lips. "Maybe, but I'm a dork with…"

Whatever witty reply he was going to make died on his lips as his brain locked up.

He blinked. Trying desperately to determine the best course of action. One wrong move would result in violence, he was sure of it.

Dennis opened his mouth.

"Not a fucking word."

Dennis closed his mouth.

Tammi stormed over, and grabbed the pizza box from him. He followed quietly, certain that discretion was the path to survival.

Because Tammi? Was dressed up nice.

Skin tight jeans of pale blue with a thick black belt, and a shirt that was clearly the product of false advertising. It was a black long sleeve zip-up crop top that left her midriff bare to the warm Brockton Bay air and defined abs that left him feeling things that were not appropriate for someone he tentatively considered a friend. Quickly he stopped looking, after noting the platform shoes she also wore, not wanting to make it more awkward.

"I feel underdressed. Or overdressed. I don't know which."

Dennis received a withering glare over the girl's shoulder, and he decided that it was safer for everyone involved if he did something productive. At least then he wouldn't stare. Those jeans were… he knew the girl was fit. Most capes were active people. But… still.

The backroom was a mini apartment. The sofa doubled as a bed as needed, the kitchen had a small oven and sink, and there was a toilet/shower bathroom. A few cabinets dotted the walls, with a tv hung on the wall, and a radio tucked in a corner. There were no windows, only the warm light of the overhead lights.

This was a safe space. Hidden, quiet, tucked away from all the chaos of the city. Hidden away behind thick walls and a derelict mass of iron that would need four men and a winch to move normally. Or a girl with the ability of telekinesis.

The fact that Tammi had shown him this place was humbling. It was a vulnerability.

They hadn't talked about what it meant exactly. Dennis liked where things stood.

Working together, the pair pulled together plates and sat. The smell of melted cheese filled the air as Dennis served.

Sitting across from one another, Dennis nibbled his food. Tammi didn't look at him, biting angrily at her own slice, only to flinch at the heat. The young man silently slid her water glass closer. She glared, but took a sip.

Slowly, her shoulders lowered, and she relaxed. As the pizza slowly dwindled and the silence stretched, Tammi glanced away. Her hostile glare had turned into quiet regret. Or maybe shame.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dennis said it calmly. His even tone broke the silence, and seemed louder for it.

Her glass silently took flight, and Tammi watched it with a forced neutrality. The water itself was not under her control, but the container was. It was something she did at times, using her powers on mundane things. It gave her something else to focus on.

"There's a party tonight. And I know that I'm going to be hit on by every man with more testosterone than brain cells. I don't need that from you as well."

Privately, Dennis wondered if 'need' should have been replaced with 'want'. But that was not important right now.

"Understood. Want me to come with you?"

Tammi looked at him, the glass orbiting in tight circles. "This isn't the kind of party that I can bring a plus one. Not unannounced."

That didn't sound good.

"Any chance you can just not go?"

She wordlessly shook her head. Loyalty, fear, implied debt, or something else. Dennis wondered at what it was that made her feel like she had to obey. Had to do something she didn't want to do. Wasn't comfortable doing.

The silence didn't get a chance to settle. Dennis broke it with the question they had both been avoiding for weeks now.

"Do you ever get tired of it?"

Now the quiet had teeth. Edges and angles. This was thin ice that the two of them had avoided by silent agreement.

Dennis liked having Tammi as a friend. He didn't like seeing his friends in trouble. He just hoped that she was still a friend by the time the conversation ended.

"Because today? I asked myself that same question. I never aimed to be a leader. Hell, there weren't any plans for me being the leader until Boston happened. I was going to fulfill my initial contract and get promoted after that. That was it. Now, I'm in charge and have to make all these decisions that I was never prepared for or wanted to do in the first place. I never wanted any of this. And today? I had to make a call that might cost me a friendship. It was the right call to make. But it doesn't change the facts."

A hush descended between them and Dennis found himself wondering if he shouldn't have said anything. This probably wasn't something that he should even be discussing. Hell, it would have probably been better to discuss it with his parents, but they were so damn proud of him. He didn't want to hurt them, not so soon after his father had been made cancer-free by Panacea, no, Amelia.

"Why did you join," Tammi finally broke the stalemate. The glass stopped orbiting and settled gently on the table.

He waved a hand awkwardly, "Because it sounded like fun," Dennis shrugged, carefully tracing old emotional scars that he had come to terms with. "Because it helped pay for my dad's medical bills and opened doors for treatment that wouldn't have been available. Because it got me out of the house so I didn't have to see hope slowly die and him waste away." He looked down at his plate, counting crumbs as he spoke.

To his sudden shock, he found a hand on his and he looked up to Tammi, who looked back at him with a quiet intensity. She put on eyeliner, framing her stormy grey eyes. It was a silly thing to notice at the moment. But there it was. She didn't seem the type.

In the weeks after Boston, he had come to know her a little. She wore her prickly scorn like a cactus wore spikes. Her insults were imaginative and plentiful. And in spite of all of that, she had a quiet thoughtfulness that peeked through like dew in the desert. Dennis had cottoned on quickly that she didn't like to show anything other than being strong. So, her showing concern for him, well, it felt…well he wasn't sure how to describe it.

"Do you regret joining?," she asked.

"No? Honestly I wouldn't change that choice. It was fun and it provided me someplace I could escape from everything going on at home. But that was what it was supposed to be: an escape. Now, Dad's better, and I have to make these hard choices and…"

"Do you want to quit?"

Dennis' face twisted. Did he want to quit? It had crossed his mind after Boston, but he had told himself that he needed to stay, if only for the others. But he hadn't expected becoming the Wards Leader, he had figured they would ship someone in. Only it hadn't happened and he was now making choices that should have been Carlos's.

"No," he admitted, finally, "No, I don't. I don't think I could live with myself if I did. And honestly? If I did quit, what would I do? I'm not exactly prime hiring material," he chuckled, "I'm not exactly failing in school, but I was never the most studious. I preferred screwing around in class and doing just enough to avoid worrying my parents. I've lost count how many times my teachers complained about how if I applied myself I could run straight A's instead of B's and C's."

Offering a shrug, he finished up simply saying, "It just was never that important to me."

"What about you?"

Tammi pulled back, letting his hand go. The absence was noticeable.

"Let not jerk around it Dennis. There's no getting out of this for me," She stated flatly. The way that someone spoke of a foregone conclusion without any wiggle room.

Dennis's first instinct was to argue back. To argue the merits of turning coat, of finding a better way. The more mature outlook that he was trying to cultivate told him to stay quiet and listen.

Tammi…Rune… took a moment watching the wall before continuing. "Look, I get it. It's shit. The others? Utter shits. Hook, Alabaster, Cricket, Stormtiger? I'm glad they're gone. But that doesn't make the rest of it wrong! Look around you. Africa isn't even falling apart, it's basically rubble being used as a trashpit. Down south? The cartels are vicious in a way that most people can't even imagine. It's important Dennis. Important that someone stands up for things, for Americans who are just trying to live their lives."

Silence descended again, colder than before. To Dennis, who had sat through classes on gang induction, on emotional influence, and propaganda…it sounded rehearsed. Like she was repeating something someone else had told her. But the problem lay in the fact that repeating someone else's words enough times, sometimes made you believe them more.

He took another angle, "I was there beside you in Boston. You didn't flinch at anyone who needed transportation, regardless of their skin color. That wasn't your boss's orders making you give a damn. You actually cared for those people."

The young women shrugged, looked away, and muttered something about the Endbringer Truce. An excuse for her actions, one that she might have had to use if her 'co-workers' took exception to her actions.

Legend had been right about one thing. Heroes didn't give up. Didn't flinch from the hard jobs.

Tammi was the same age as him. She was part of a racist criminal organization, there was no denying that. But Dennis wanted to believe that people could change. At seventeen, she shouldn't feel like her path in life was set.

No more than he should feel the same.

He had worked closely beside her for days in Boston, then in Brockton Bay, he had gotten a good measure of her personality. Regardless of the fact that she was on the other side of the fence, he had found a peer who was just as human as he was.

And humans made mistakes. That didn't mean they were too far gone. And from everything he knew of Rune, she hadn't crossed that line yet.

"So why did you join?" He bounced the question back to her.

The girl ducked her head, shrinking into herself. This time, her glass rose quickly, the water sloshing dangerously.

"I joined them because for the first time in my life, I was treated like I actually mattered. That I had the power to change things."

She sighed softly, then spoke again, only this time there was a noticeable accent to her tone. A southern edge that surprised Dennis, because he had never heard any hint of it before.

"For some dumb hick girl from Bumfuck, North Carolina, with no prospects other than eventually ending up as a trophy cunt for some good ol' 'upstanding'," she quote-gestured with her free hand, "boy to plow," the rueful laughter that escaped her lips, made his heart twist, "you cannot imagine how powerful I felt."

Dennis remembered the first time he walked the streets in costume. The way that people looked at him for safety, for answers, for direction. Not because of what he did. But because of what he represented. They respected the uniform.

Respect can come from fear, just as much as love it seems.

"Tammi, I mean it. There is a way to get you out of this, if you want it. You and I both know that they are going to keep asking more of you. They will push you over the line, and make sure to hold it against you so that you can never get away." Her plate started floating as well, a sign that she heard his words, but didn't have an answer.

"Look… Purity seems to have gotten out. So there must be a way."

That was a mistake. He knew it as soon as her lips sneered in anger.

"Don't talk to me about that bitch. She hasn't gotten away with anything! Kaiser holds her leash as much as those trophy twins of his. She's been very careful not to do anything to make him tug. Besides, I don't have nearly the same pull as she does, did, whatever." The young women spat angrily. It was unexpected, and Dennis suspected that there was a context missing.

"Just… leave it alone Dennis," she said after a few moments, the resignation clear in her tone.

He replied firmly, both of them knowing that the conversation would pick up another time. "As you wish."

Tammi scowled. "Don't start." But her plate returned to the table, and her glass floated down as well.

As the tension in the room dropped, he slowly smiled, falling into the role of the lighthearted clown. "But my lady! I am Dennisio Montoya. You saved my father. Prepare to cry! No.. wait, that's no good…. My name, is Dennisio Montoya. You saved my father. Prepare the pie!"

Her jaw tightened, even as the corner of her mouth twitched. She had loved discovering that movie. He loved it as well, for different reasons.

Dennis yelped as her very solid shoe slammed into his shin, jerking his leg up in pain, bashing his knee into the table. The plates rattled as they danced.

"Ahhh…. That was too much… Quit it, before I call the brute squad."

"You are the brute squad." Tammi shot back. Smiling now. He liked Tammi's smile. It was like sunshine and made him forget all the difficulties they had for the moment.

The second kick to his shin caused that to die a sudden and inauspicious death

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow," reaching he massaged his other shin, hissing at the sensation as he tried to soothe it, "Why'd you have to do the other shin?!"

"Ohh… how gallant. How noble and charming you are…Dennisio. Be a good dog and warm my feet for me would you?"

I shouldn't be doing this, but fuck it. Dad would tell me to go for it and we need to get off this depressing subject. And Mama didn't raise no bitch!

"Well, two out of three is nice. I'm just not Gallant."

He reflexively twisted in his seat, anticipating her righteous response.

Only for his chair to levitate off the ground.

"Inconceivable!"

"Dennis, I swear. Stop, or I'm going to pancake you to the ceiling."

He raised his hands in surrender, and Tammi lowered him back down. Clever of her to infuse the chair with her powers. That took planning.

But the serious tone of the earlier conversation was broken. Just for a few minutes more, the two of them could relax,

without the weight of the world pressing down on them.

Still…his shins did hurt.

So worth it, he thought to himself as Tammi quizzes him on their next movie.

---

AEH​

---

"Sure you don't want me to come along?"

Dennis knew the answer would be no. But the offer had to be made. A good friend made sure to show they care. There was probably something wrong with the idea of 'letting friends go to a nazi party unaccompanied' but Dennis wasn't looking into that too far.

Tammi had thrown on a heavy coat, hiding her outfit as they walked back towards the nicer areas of town. "Like I said, not a party I can bring a 'plus-one' to without warning. I'll be fine. Done this before, doing it now, and will do it again at some point."

They reached the bus stop with minutes to spare. Despite the deserved reputation of Brockton Bay, the public transit system was fairly well respected by all sides.

"Well, before you go, I do want to say something." Dennis's gut churned. Nerves, because this was sticking his hand into a bee-hive if Tammi took it the wrong way. She shot him a look, and he continued before he could lose his nerve.

"Girls deserve to feel good. So I'm going to give you a compliment." Dangerous waters now. He could see her face closing off, the anger in her eyes. A touch of betrayal.

As quickly, and clearly as he could, Dennis delivered the line he had been working on. "Girl, you look like the kind of woman who can do her eyeliner without poking her eyes once."

The dumbfounded look she gave him was so satisfying. His guess was correct. Tammi didn't want attention drawn to her body. She got that from every other man it seems. So Dennis was going the other direction. "Girl, you look like you blend your contours."

Now she was smiling. "You have no idea what that means."

"I do not. But I hope you still take it as a compliment."

"Very well, I accept" she said, adopting a haughty pose, nose to the sky.

Laughter slowed as the bus rolled up.

Dennis looked deep into her eyes, a step separated from her. "Take care of yourself."

Stay safe.

Tammi surprised him, pulling him close and wrapping her arms around him. She was shorter than himself, so his lungs filled with the smell of her perfume. Dennis didn't know what to do. Not without poking at the shadowed edges of her discomfort. He compromised, returning a polite hug that made sure to leave her room to escape.

A feather-light press of her lips on his cheek banished any further thoughts from his head. Uncontrolled, he smiled, even as she scampered onto the bus. A glance through the window let her give him a solemn nod that she had heard his unspoken request. Then the bus rolled away.

The young man stood in the gathering dark, finding that the wind bit just a little harsher in her absence.