Hatching 2.2

Civil discourse.

It is said that civil discourse is the ability to disagree without being disagreeable. To object without being objectionable.

History is keen to remember the riots, wars, and savage killings that resulted when two sides' disagreement degenerated into violence. What it often fails to remember are the countless times conflict was averted by quick thinking, patient leaders, tolerant hearts and a willingness to set aside differences to find common ground. It is my opinion that one of the earliest and perhaps greatest advances of our species is one that's too often overlooked:

The moments where human beings come together to settle their differences without resorting to beating each other's heads in, screaming over each other like primates, those were the moments that marked us as deserving of the title of dominant species on this planet.

"My question is for Highrise, and he damn well knows what this is about."

…I could tell already this was not going to be one of those moments.

The man's interruption created quite the commotion. The auditorium was filled with shouts of protest, but the audience's gaze was split between the disruptor… and the objects of his ire.

Highrise seemed to be doing his best to dissolve into his chair. Halcyon's expression was carefully tailored as always, having gone from his default supermodel smile into the perfect image of neutrality. Shaggydog was looking in the man's general direction… but seemed distracted again, tail wagging with a nervous energy.

The baby of the bunch again had what was perhaps the most telling reaction of the whole group. After having practically leapt out of her chair at the disturbance, Nymph was now awkwardly just standing there on stage, looking around sheepishly. A second later, she timidly sat back down again.

The one who looked the least concerned was the PR woman, Ms. Delacroix. In the face of the abrupt and violent interruption, the older woman's expression was surprisingly… carefully neutral. It was the kind of non-expression that could only be achieved by someone with a lifetime of practice.

A true spokeswoman, indeed.

"Oh no," Liam blanched.

"Oh God," Cal moaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Oh boy," I responded, leaning back for a more comfortable seat. This, I could tell, was bound to get good.

Let it be known schadenfreude was among the guilty pleasures I liked to indulge. Like the last moron to try and start a fight with the heroes, it would at least be entertaining seeing what happened to this one. Maybe in making a fool of himself, he'd somehow manage to create an opportunity for me to get what I wanted.

Hey, I knew that was a long shot in this world. But still a guy could hope, right?

It wasn't a minute after the man wrestled control of the microphone and issued his challenge that a stocky security guard was quickly moving to intercept the man. He seized the agitator a moment later, wrestling the mike from him without heeding his demands to have his problem heard.

To my surprise however, the spokeswoman called him off with a wave of her hand, eyes still fixed on the man brazenly glaring at the stage.

"It's alright," the woman said, both to the guard as well as the rest of the audience. "I suspect we already know what this is about. We were going to issue a separate statement, but this is as good a time as any."

The guard took another look at the woman- No. Not at her, but at the heroes behind her.

How…Telling.

"Now," the woman pressed. "Please."

Behind Delacroix. Halcyon inclined his head a fraction of an inch. In response, the security guard released the man and offered him back the mike. The agitator roughly snatched it back out of the man's hand with a sneer.

'Aaand that's when I would have taken it right back from him, for good this time.'

She turned to face the man. "Good afternoon," she said, ignoring the fact he'd addressed his question to Highrise. "What exactly is the problem you'd like addressed, mister…?"

"Hawley," the man growled. "Gavin Hawley. And my problem…" He pointed at the tinker still sitting in his seat. "… Is him."

Even if he wasn't doing his best to make a scene, I would have pegged the man as trouble from his appearance alone. He was middle aged, tall and stocky, with unkempt hair and a long bushy orange beard. I would have called him fat, if I didn't strongly suspect there was a layer of muscle hidden under all his bulk. He was red in the face, his ugliness further exaggerated by his deep scowl, and he was decked out in camouflage clothes with an orange trim.

Not casual clothes dyed in camo, but the type of clothes a hunter typically wore. Mottled green to hide from prey with orange, to prevent the possibility of getting accidentally shot by another hunter. If his look and demeanor didn't already tell me he probably knew how to get his hands dirty, that detail did.

The parahuman handler didn't seem concerned, however. "Is that so?"

"My question to Highrise," the man growled. "Is if he's got anything to say to all the innocent people his 'security system' put in the hospital."

'Woah, what?'

My head whipped from looking at the loudmouth to Highrise. I wasn't the only one whose gaze immediately focused on the tinker onstage, and immediately the big man cringed like a child.

Half the crowd was murmuring confused, and the other was looking rather uncomfortable. Like they knew what the loudmouth was talking about.

"That's right." He hissed between his teeth. "The PRT is trying to cover it up, but those of us who were there? Who lived it? We know the truth. Over a dozen people, almost half of them children. Attacked by those machines that were supposed to keep them safe. Supposed to keep them safe, but instead beat them senseless."

I frowned. That… sounded pretty bad. I had to admit, I had a bias against anti-parahuman agitators after all the trouble I knew they could cause from reading Ward. But compared to the guy outside, who just wanted to start trouble, this guy at least sounded like he had some grounds for a grievance.

I listened to the voices of the crowd around me. Just like with the Guild capes outside, the same three words were being said over and over again. Every time they were said, it seemed to upset people more and more.

"The Waller Kids."

"What happened with the Waller kids?" I asked my two companions, eyes still focused on the staring contest between the agitator and the hero. "How bad did they get hurt?"

"I heard it was bad." Liam hissed. "Really, really bad."

"It wasn't that bad," Cal cut in sharply, voice surprisingly hostile all of a sudden. I glanced over at him to catch his glare at Liam. His gaze softened when he looked back towards me, as if making it clear that I wasn't the one he was snapping at. "What happened to those people was sad, but it wasn't as extreme as the grapevine is making it out to be."

Delacroix seemed to share the sentiment. "I believe I am familiar with the incident you're referring to. I can assure you now that the situation is not as severe as you are implying."

"How is being sent to the hospital not severe?!"

'Dude, stop shouting.' I clutched the sides of my head. The static in my ears was getting to me again.

"You remember the square? The clearing by the front gate?" Cal said as the two continued going back and forth. "You know how the kids like to play games there?"

"Yeah?" I frowned.

"You know how the entrance gate always has a ton of those drones in front of it?"

"…. Yeah?" I nodded, following so far.

"They were playing a game of baseball… swinging long sticks."

"…Oh."

He nodded grimly. He didn't need to say any more, we'd all seen what the drones were capable of. It didn't take a genius to infer what happened next. We'd all seen someone try to start a fight or make a nuisance of themselves that first week in the camp. We'd all seen what the response was, the response that made the camps fight-free by week two… at the cost of becoming an Orwellian nightmare.

Highrise's drones responded swiftly to any sort of disturbance. They were only packing nonlethal weapons, but they were persistent, annoying, and downright impossible to ignore. And the entrance was one of the best guarded spots in Tent City.

"Aannnd I'm guessing their cheap AI interpreted people swinging sticks at each other as some sort of brawl and freaked out."

"Ye-"

"….And In response to your… question, Mr. Hawley," Delacroix cut in over the mike. "There is no... 'coverup'. We were merely waiting for the appropriate time to address this particular incident publicly. And so, the PRT would like to issue the following statement…"

The woman turned her head to face the reporters in the front rows, clearly addressing them just as much as the agitator.

"On Highrise's behalf, I regret to inform you all that the 'Eye-in-the-Sky' automated security program will be scaled down. It was hoped that the implementation of an automated security force would allow personnel rendered scarce by the size and scope of the aftermath of Leviathan's attack to be conserved and deployed elsewhere."

The woman briefly frowned, highlighting the creases on her face. "Recently, an… accident occurred that revealed a flaw in the system, and as a result the decision was made to replace the majority of drones with traditional security officers stationed around the camp. Patches have been made to the areas of the automated system that will remain active. Only a quarter of the drones deployed from the hubs will continue to patrol and will first notify security forces before intervening-"

"And you think that's enough?" Hawley interrupted again. "If you were really sorry, you'd make sure they were gone." There were a few murmurings of assent.

I frowned. The man might have had a legitimate grievance with the PRT, but his rudeness wasn't exactly gaining him any points with me.

"I assure you, the deployment of the drone towers was the least invasive of the options available to us," the woman explained. "The extent of the damage Leviathan inflicted was far greater than anyone could have possibly anticipated. The more the PRT and the Canadian military spends resources policing the refugee centers, the less can lend to the tasks of survivor recovery and environmental cleanup."

'That… and a way to quickly pin down any of your five 'newborn' capes if one of them lost their minds, right?'

"The Eye-in-the-Sky contingency was the most convenient option available to us. It was designed and tinker pre-screened to be as effective as possible for large-scale crowd control, and, with the drones' ability to automatically engage the 'Riot Protocols' section of their programming now manually disabled by the designer, we've been assured they will be able to continue to provide refugees with security and with an enhanced degree of privacy."

Riot Protocols.

"Oh no." I could see it now. A bunch of poorly programmed AI made by a jittery tinker, a crowd of people "threatening" each other with sticks. The usual drone response: sound an alarm, fly in, and start tasering people. The square is right next to the dining tents. It would be pretty popular at any time of day. People see a bunch of kids getting attacked by robots, jump in to help. Robots, faced with suspects "resisting arrest" with more people jumping in, double down, then call for backup, rinse and repeat for awhile…

/././

"We would also like to take this chance to reiterate," the woman said. "Please do not harass or attempt to damage and/or destroy the drones. While Highrise has restricted their automated responses, they are still Protectorate property. Thus, destroying them or collecting their parts is a crime. If you find a damaged drone or believe one might be malfunctioning, please report it to…"

"Oh no," I moaned, cradling my head in my hands. Both Cal and Liam shared a sympathetic look. No doubt they'd had the same reaction.

"… How bad did it get?"

"Bad," Liam answered, face looking surprisingly indignant for someone I'd previously pegged as apathetic towards the whole situation. "Really, really bad."

"It wasn't that bad," Cal corrected. "I caught a glimpse of what happened. It wasn't as big a thing as the grapevine is making it out to be."

'Wait...Didn't we just have this conversation?

/././.

"How exactly are they exaggerating the part the kids were hospitalized?" Liam hissed.

"Not that part," Cal clarified, wincing as he immediately realized how that didn't help his case. "They were just pepper-sprayed. The rest of the injuries came from the crush of people running in to help. All those people crushing together and then falling over when they got hit just made it worse. Highrise shut them off only a few minutes after it started."

'Maybe so', I thought. 'But that doesn't really matter now does it?'

I could hear the whispered murmurings spreading through the crowds. The same story I'd head now being repeated again and again to others who hadn't heard it. I could see the glances being sent in the direction of the stage. I could practically hear the gears turning, the question being wondered, the one no one would ask.

"Maybe your tinker friend would like to tell us himself." …Except the bearded man still making a spectacle out of himself. "How far would things have gone if he hadn't been there to stop it?"

The microphone squealed slightly, and I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my forehead.

/…./..!

Why won't they just shut this guy up?!

I was feeling for the heroes, their control of this townhall was rapidly deteriorating. My sympathy for Highrise himself however was evaporating by the minute. Not from the malfunction with his security system, but because he wasn't exactly putting up a strong defense.

The tinker was wiggling in his seat with his fingers curling in knots in his lap, thighs rubbing together. While Hawley was standing there degrading him in front of all these people, he was just sitting there doing the five-year old peepee dance. This meeting might have been called to put people at ease, but letting this Hawley guy go on and on as he pleased was undermining everything they were trying to say.

A dozen people in the hospital? Embarrassing to the authorities and terrifying to the refugees. The only way it could have gone worse was if one of those drones had killed someone. It certainly didn't help that with people as wound up as they were, I could easily see someone killing someone else right now. And as Hawley was allowed to keep going on, the more agitated people were getting.

"Why isn't Highrise answering his own questions?" I whispered, then winced. The static from my power was starting to act up again.

…No, that was actual static from the speakers.

The fact he was allowing the spokeswoman to speak for him instead of defending himself wasn't doing anything to help my opinion of him.

"It's not exactly a flattering look," Liam agreed.

Cal gave a scowl and rolled his eyes. "Um, because he's mute, guys?"

…Huh.

I blinked, looking at the awkward man on stage again. He still hadn't answered the question, instead continuing to wriggle awkwardly. While Shaggydog was still looking distracted, Nymph and Halcyon -surprisingly- were both looking increasingly upset. Nymph was rubbing the big man's arm. Halcyon, though his face was still carefully neutral, had his right hand resting in his lap in a clenched fist, rippling and distorted.

'If he's mute, that still doesn't explain why he's not answering his own questions,' I thought. 'Sign language was a thing. At least, I hoped so in this world.'

I frowned. No, the level of discomfort the man was experiencing. His silence. His teammates' growing concern. There was something else at work here.

And once again, I didn't have enough information to piece it together.

….I hated being a D-lister.

"Sir, I do believe your question has already been answered." Delacroix scowled, unable to prevent her own clear distaste for the man from slightly creeping into her voice. "Your concerns have been heard, now please show proper respect for your neighbors and relinquish the micr-!"

"-Respect?!" the big man balked. "How can you talk to us about 'respecting our neighbors' when you force us to live in a prison camp?!"

A few people started to cheer at that, which I found… disturbing.

The big man looked past Delacroix. "Yeah, I'm talking to you!" Highrise cringed. "That's right! How about you answer your own questions for once instead of hiding behind a woman, you cowardly asshole!"

And just like that, my sympathy with Hawley's position evaporated. If the few tuts of distaste around me were anything to go by, I wasn't the only one that held that position. If he just wanted to be heard, he'd already done it. At this point, he was acting no better than that last agitator outside, pointlessly insulting the capes and basically just being a dick.

"This has gone on far enough." Halcyon rose from his seat. Even though his voice was raised, his tone was as cool as ice. He shot a glance at Delacroix before continuing. "Sir, we've addressed your concern. You're making a mockery of this event, insulted my teammate, and wasting the time of everyone else that came here to have their concerns heard."

I blinked. Wow. For once, something had come out of Halcyon's mouth that sounded… real. Real emotion. Real indignation.

"I'm not done-!"

"Oh, but I think you are," Delacroix frowned as Hawley's mike cut out. Shut off from the podium. "Mr. Hawley, we thank you for coming, but your comments are no longer conductive to this conversation. We must now ask you to leave."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding in all this time as the PRT soldier rapidly approached once more to confiscate the microphone. At long last it seemed this farce would be over. As much as I'd understood people's fear of the drones, his attitude and behavior were unacceptable.

I got a good look at the man's face as he had the audacity to actually turn and flee up the aisle from the PRT, and I felt my jaw involuntarily clench. There's a difference between anger born of fear, and anger that sought to drive others to fear. And when I took a look at the borderline murderous expression on the man's face as he ran past my row, I could tell he was firmly in the latter camp.

He moved with a… waddling half-run that was something between a limp and a penguin waddle. Almost like he was crippled or something. But in this situation, it did little to garner my sympathy and more to drive just how ridiculous this situation actually was. When he'd only gotten three aisles back however, he abruptly spun around and pointed at the soldier bearing down on him, snapping his fingers.

"Stop right there!"

The PRT soldier stopped so short, I thought for a moment the big man must have pulled a gun. My heart skipping a beat, I sprung up in my seat to check… But no, where I looked at the man's hand it was empty.

What the…?

The speakers squealed-

./../.././

. . . .

"Do you see this!?" Hawley roared into the auditorium. The room was suddenly went very, very quiet.

"Do you see how they react when someone calls them out on their lies?! They weren't going to say anything about the Wallers until I said anything, and they're still not going to take the drones away!"

"Sir, I just told you-!"

"You shut up!" Hawley shouted again, snapping his fingers as he pointed. Inexplicably, Delacroix did just that, snapping her mouth shut.

"These heroes… these capes!" the man snarled as he gestured at the stage. "They don't care about the people that got stuck in the camps. They only care about their goddamn PR!"

"Capes look down on us humans!" he roared.

'… I'm just going to say citation needed on that one.'

"They said it themselves…" He pointed at the capes on stage, who for some reason seemed frozen halfway standing up, eyes firmly fixed on the man. "There's even more capes out there now. The heroes couldn't stop Leviathan from taking our homes, they couldn't even properly keep the people in the camp safe. And now knowing there's five more villains out there, we're all supposed to sit around in camp or cower indoors, and hope the heroes can save us?"

He puffed out his chest, as if he was somehow trying to make himself look heroic. "I say… we need a third option."

Oh. Oooh. I could see where this was going.

"Sonuvabitch," I chucked ruefully to myself. "…You beat me to it."

"The unpowered need to look out for themselves!" he declared. "We've got to organize, and fight back against the looters around our camp! Fight back against the new capes before they realize they've got us like a fox in a henhouse."

…Ah. So that's his game.

He turned and glared again at the heroes assembled on stage, still seemingly paralyzed with indecision. "…And we need to show these 'heroes' how much we actually need them."

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been expecting something like this to crop up eventually. Normals were suffering, and capes were involved. It was natural that agitator outside wouldn't be an isolated incident.

Like in the aftermath of any major tragedy, there would be people coming out of the woodwork to capitalize off it once enough time passed. Whether they were motivated out of greed, pragmatism, or just particularly emotional stupidity, people like this would either seek out or create a scene in an attempt to get whatever it was they wanted. Heck, even I was here looking for henchmen.

How was I feeling at that moment? Honestly? I was feeling... plesantly numb for the most part. Logically I was aware I should feel something more at this turn of events, but it was all I could bring myself to feel beyond vague indifference was annoyance at this farcical display.

/.s/.../l/./.e.../e/./.p./.

...And even that feeling was fading by the second as the static of the speakers again became audible over the slience, there was a sense of agitation and alarm hovering around the edges of my consciousness that wasn't quite my own, demanding I did not space out.

There was... a sense there was something I was missing here. Some conclusion that should seem obvious like what one plus one equalled, but I just couldn't quite connect the dots.

But I didn't see why it was an issue to worry about. Did this guy honestly think he was going to… what? Turn the entire crowd against the heroes by going on like this? I couldn't possibly see how. The man was rude, ugly, and mean as sin. By my estimates, it all added up to an approximate zero percent chance of that ever happening.

I smirked to myself as I turned to share a look with Cal and Liam, to appreciate the absurdity of it with my companions… only for the smile to fall right off my face. Liam looked pensive, nodding along with what the big man was saying. Cal, who I expected to be just as incensed as I was… looked blank.

"…Guys?"

I looked around the room. Nearly every face I saw was either contemplative, flat, or was switching between the two. Nobody moved. Even the reporters, rather than snap pictures of the juicy drama unfolding, had simply put down their cameras in favor of openly staring.

Something about that set alarm bells ringing in my head, but the static in my ears broke my concentration again before I could focus on it.

"… So, who's with me?!"

The silence stretched on an uncomfortably long time as I waited.

Any moment now.

Any moment now the heroes are going to pick their jaws back up off the floor. Someone is going to tell this loser off. To laugh in his face for coming in here, disrespecting the heroes, spewing anti-cape borderline racist rhetoric, and then actually expecting people to follow him.

Someone is going to do it. Someone. Anyone.

Because no one could possibly be so stupid as to cl-!

Someone clapped.

…/...

…No.

It was faint, just one set of hands, but it was still an unmistakable sound. In the silent room, even the sound of two hands quickly coming together might as well as well have been as loud as a gunshot. It broadcasted one thing: someone in the audience agreed with this guy.

.../a/.g/.r/...e/...e/

Oh no.

A five seconds passed. Then ten. And then, a second set of hands joined in the clapping. And then a third. It started to sound like a chain reaction was forming.

...j/../o/...i.../n/...i/...n...

For a moment, Hawley stopped looking so damn angry. He just looked smug.

Oh hell no.

"Not in my story," I grumbled as I stood and took a deep breath.

/...S/.L/E./...E/..P.!../

Trying to stand was... hard, like a weight was suddenly bearing down on my shoulders. It was an obviously alien feeling, and as a result was easier to pin down as something to reject than the general apathy I was still feeling. I was winning, but not quickly enough as more hands started clapping. Until the agitation caused by my power returned in force, the stab of Anger forcing clarity to the forefront of my mind as I fully rose from my chair, a plan of action already in mind.

"Boo!" I shouted, shattering the moment. In the near-silent auditorium, my voice sounded ten times louder than it actually was. People all around the room jolted upright, looking over in my direction.

"Booo!" I repeated, louder this time as I glanced around. Cal and Liam… had the most gobsmacked looks on their faces, like a pair deer caught in headlights. The look in their eyes was… placid. Cow-like. Like I just came down from the sky like a spaceman and they had no idea what to do with me.

Hawley sharply turned in my direction. His expression betrayed what appeared to be honest shock anyone had dared derail him the way he'd derailed the townhall. Half a second later his face lit up with murderous rage, eyes scanning the crowd for the source of the defiance. His mouth opened to make some further retort-!

"How dare you disrespect the honored dead?!" I roared.

The big man froze, pausing to process what I'd just said.

Outside, I was the image of righteous indignation. Internally, I had the biggest shit-eating grin as I deployed the ultimate trump card.

"Heroes gave their lives fighting Leviathan! 'How much we really need heroes?' Are you calling their deaths meaningless?!"

His eyes locked with mine and he opened his mouth to respond… but wouldn't.

More like couldn't. He was frozen. Backed into a trap by his own rhetoric.

Gavin Hawley had apparently lucked out. He'd showed up on a day the room was full of sheeple unwilling to oppose him. But I knew something of speaking publicly myself, and I had a trump that could never fail:

In the world of public speaking, there were few bigger faux pas than disrespecting the hallowed dead. First responders, veterans... or superheroes.

And now, he had two options. One, double down on his anti-cape stance and in the process spit on the graves of Endbringer victims, which would only serve to make him look worse. Two, backpedal away as quickly as he could, apologize and acknowledge the worth of the heroes' sacrifices and in the process undermine his whole "humans first" message.

"…"

…Or, he could do what he was doing right now: refrain from making a choice and stand there like a gormless idiot. His rage gave way to… confusion. As the seconds ticked by, it became apparent that Hawley honestly didn't have a retort planned. Did he honestly not expect anyone to call him out? To the point he was powerless when someone actually did?

"Shame on you!" I shouted, taking advantage of his silence to rub salt in the wound. I kicked Cal in the shin as I did so. He let out a sharp his of pain, the shock at least seemed to have also broken whatever strange spell he'd been under. He blinked, seeming to finally register what was going on. "Shame! Shame!"

Cal shook his head like he was clearing spiderwebs, before joining in. "B-booo!"

"Shame!" another voice joined in the chant. "Shame!"

"Shame!"

"Shame!"

"How dare you come here, and imply their sacrifice was meaningless! Was pointless!"

All around the room, people were raising their voices. Some were joining me in shouting down Hawley, others were defending him.

"Hey, isn't that a little harsh, guys?" Liam spoke up. "I mean, he has a point."

"And what point would that be?" Cal balked. "You heard him, he hates capes. That's not helping anyone."

'Welcome back to reality, Callum.' I breathed a mental sigh of relief. 'Thought I lost you for a second there, and right after you started showing promise.'

"Er… yeah, but we could use some more people taking the initiative to help out. Police ourselves, you know? At least it would help keep villains from taking over."

"Oh yeah?" I said as I watched the PRT soldiers grab Hawley as he once again tried to flee up the aisle. "Being policed by guys like him? I don't think there's much difference between that and being ruled by villains."

I leaned back in my seat as Cal and Liam continued to argue. The PRT and the heroes finally seemed to have regained their senses as well, and were now (ineffectively) attempting to calm the crowd.

"Get off of me!" Hawley snarled. The big man was thrashing as his hands were secured, requiring two heavyset PRT agents to restrain him as they dragged him away. He looked to the crowd. "The capes can't be trusted! Can't you see?! Can't you see?!"

'Can't I see what a fool you're making of yourself? If that's what you mean, then yes.'

"Everyone, please calm down!" Halcyon said as he took the podium, forcing Delacroix to make a hasty retreat.

Even though the room seemed to be heating up at the moment, I was breathing a private sigh of relief. Whatever Gary Nieves-esque agenda Hawley was trying to push, I was confident I'd thrown a major wrench in his plans. And, as a bonus, since me butting in had apparently whetted it's appetite for conflict, the irritating mental "static" from my powers had at slightly subsided.

…./..!

… No wait.

/!/..!.../.!/!

Okay, that time I knew I heard something. What the hell-!?

The speakers squealed.

"Would someone please shut those speakers off?!" the police chief shouted as he rubbed his temples.

Most people seemed to agree, because similar complaints were getting shouted by the moment. Louder and louder, too. Angrier.

"….Man, I just don't get how you can agree with all that." Cal pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What I'm saying," Liam growled. "Is that I don't agree with all of that. Just that some points deserve to be acknowledged, not just all brushed aside out of hand like some kind of idiot."

"W-who are you calling an idiot?!"

...Okay, people were getting upset, but with the obvious agitator removed from the equation, I had confidence in the Protectorate and the decency of my fellow man to overcome the urge to raise trouble.

Any second now…

A few rows back a pair of people started fighting over the microphone.

"I want it!"

/!/..!

"I…don't giv… a shit what you..ant!"

"No, it's mine!"

!.!.../.!

"Ladies and gentleman!" Halcyon was starting to sound genuinely exasperated. And wasn't that a sign of how dire things were suddenly becoming. "Please keep calm and return to your seats! If you do not, we will -with great regret- be forced to end the event and require you to disperse-!"

And if that didn't set off another warning siren, a loud crash from the back of the auditorium did. A shoving match had broken out between two elderly men in front of the doors, disrupting the PRT's efforts to drag Hawley out.

And as I scanned the room, saw the violence escalating, the little bits and pieces of Wrong I'd been noticing started to pile up. Every time I'd forgotten I'd noticed something amiss, a tiny little piece of discomfort had remained behind, and now they all came together. Piercing the fog of the Static to coalesce into one, crystal clear thought:

None of this…None of this is normal.

Like someone had poured a glass of ice water over my head, cool clear awareness washed over me as I abruptly woke up, clearly and fully. I snapped my head to the side. "Cal."

Callum didn't answer, too engrossed in the growing mass argument. He was caught in the same strange spell I'd been ensnared by a moment ago too.

Screw that noise.

I reached over and grabbed Callum firmly by the shoulder and tugged on him. He jolted at the sudden contact and whipped around to face me. Annoyance and confusion played across his face, right up until he saw my face. I fancied myself a pretty easy going guy, but when the chips are down, I could get pretty damn serious.

And when I got angry, like really, seriously pissed, I'd been told I had a hell of a game face. And today my face must have been something to behold, because once he got a good long look, his eyes went wide and he stopped struggling.

"Time to go," I growled, not even waiting for his response before pulling him along. My passenger was surprisingly cooperative as I maintained physical contact with Cal to pull him along.

Probably because it knew what I'd just inferred: there wasn't a need to manufacture a scene anymore with a misfire, because a copious amount of conflict was already on its way.

Maintaining my grip on my slow-witted companion I stood up in my seat, ignoring protests that rose from those behind us as the volume level in the auditorium began to grow. Liam looked over with a mix of confusion and annoyance, until our eyes locked as well. I wordlessly indicated with a flick of my head for him to follow, and he mutely began to stand.

Not fast enough. We didn't make it three rows before the level of tension in the room reached a fever pitch. It was like hearing a wave coming into shore, a dull roar building to a crashign creshendo.

!H!A!T!E!

Irritated voices suddenly transitioned to outright shouting as people started trying to yell over each other to have their voices heard. Like every complaint they could think of was forcing itself out of their mouths the moment they thought of them.

"How long are we going to be stuck here?!"

"We deserved to not be spied on!"

"Tell them! Tell them how wrong they are! They don't understand-!"

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT-!"

I had one of my own, spilling over my lips and turning my blood into ice.

"So this is what it's like to be caught in a stranger's attack."

A man suddenly stepped out of the row in front of us, blocking our path. "My son is only eight!" he shouted, wide-eyed, as he looked towards the stage. "You've got to help me find-!"

Was he an agitator, or was he someone who was genuinely scared and wrapped up in whatever strange mood had seized us all? I didn't know, and quite frankly I did not care.

I shoved the man roughly out of the way with both hands as he stepped forward, and he fell. More likely because I'd caught him off guard than any real force I'd put into the shove. Nevertheless, he went stumbling sideways before falling on top of someone still in their seat. I ignored Callum's protests just as easily as I ignored those of the strangers as I continued marching towards the exit, never taking my eyes off the red exit sign.

Other people were rising to leave, the more lucid among us reaching the same conclusion I'd come to: it was high time to find somewhere else to be. The people who'd been standing in the back of the room had already cleared out. I could see no sign of Hawley since I'd briefly taken my eyes off of him. Whether the PRT had finally gotten him out or he'd slipped away, it mattered little right now in the face of my own pressing need to escape.

The members of the crowd were slowly starting to take notice of the growing danger the situation posed now, and as herd mentality set in more and more people were standing up and moving. I didn't break stride as I elbowed my way through the bodies.

'Halfway there, now.'

'This tension isn't going to last much longer.' I thought. Delacroix shouted another calming platitude into the microphone to no effect. 'Someone is gonna set this off.'

And someone did, not ten seconds later. Someone else pushing his way to the edge of the crowd shoved a young woman out of the way. The world seemed to slow to a crawl, as I watched her boyfriend roughly shove the guy right back.

Oh no.

Like watching ripples spread across a pond's surface after a brick was tossed in, aggression spilled over into violence. People shouting at each other turned to shoving. Shoving turned into punching as isolated pockets of violence started popping up wherever I looked.

"Oh no," Callum moaned behind me, as he saw exactly what I saw.

"Everyone! Please remain calm!" Halcyon said in his most authoritative voice behind us. A final, futile appeal to reason. "Return to your seats and we'll resolve this in a calm and rational manner."

Yeah, sure thing man.

A roar rose from the stands in front of the stage, so full of alarm and outrage I just had to turn to see what it was.

Highrise had risen from his seat, his defeated look briefly replaced with one of determination. That oversized metal backpack of his started blinking and beeping loudly… until Nymph leapt over Shaggydog like an acrobat and wrapped herself around one of the man's elbows. There was a questioning, desperate look on the older man's face, but the little girl only shook her head sadly.

It would be cute… if the object of her attention hadn't just poured gasoline on the fire.

Hawley's provocations against the tinker fresh in everyone's heads, a number of people who'd either been fighting each other or turning to flee had put aside their differences and were now focused on the stage, shouting insults and jeers. A few were actually pushing their way towards the stage now, and I had no intention of sticking around to see what would happen when they got there. I turned back to leave-

-Just in time to see another big guy in green who'd been sitting a row behind the shoving couple calmly stand up… and cold clock the boyfriend in the back of the head.

Wait, what the actual fuck-!?

The man fell limp, face impacting the metal chair in front of him before he bonelessly slumped to the ground. The girlfriend clutched her hands to her mouth and screamed. A high, shrill sound that joined with the squealing of the speakers. And like a whistle signaling the start of a race, it signaled to us all that the riot was on.

The tension in the room seemed to explode, volume and activity skyrocketing. Like a scene out of a zombie movie, people altogether lost their minds, all pretense of order disappeared in the pursuit of getting out as quickly as possible. Punches were thrown, bodies were dragged to the floor, and some people were just incoherently screaming.

I might have been holding tight to Callum, but I wasn't holding Liam. Even though he was only a short distance behind us, he was caught off-guard by the sudden outbreak of violence and was pulled away from us as people flooded into the aisle from their seats.

"Liam!" I shouted as the other man was pulled into the crowd.

"Cal! Ben!" he shouted as he was sucked along with the crowd. He was quickly hidden from sight behind the rush of bodies. For a split second I entertained the unwise notion of retrieving him, but almost as if in response two men fell into the aisle from their row in a tangle of swearing and punches, blocking our path backwards.

"Liam!" Cal called, shaking free of my grasp and pushing towards his hidden friend.

"No Cal!" I shouted. I grabbed hold of his wrist, a gesture that made him pause and look back at me. "He's gone! We need to get out of here or we'll end up like him or worse!"

I turned back to the crowd. I shouted Liam's name a few more times, calling for him to find us outside.

"But-!"

"No buts!" I interrupted. I'd had enough experience leading others in my previous life that forcefully overcoming resistance came naturally to me. "We can wait for him outside, but we can't do anything if someone bashes our goddamn heads in. Let's go!"

Not even waiting for a response, I resumed pulling. A moment later, Cal stopped struggling and was following me again.

But it was too little too late.

I saw him before he saw us. The big, rough looking man that clocked the boyfriend was making his way in our direction through the crowd. Even if he hadn't done anything yet, between his expression and posture you could tell just by looking at him that he was searching for a fight. More specifically: an easy target to beat up on.

His eyes locked onto mine. He immediately started moving on an intercept course between us and the door. Cal must have seen him too, because he stopped in his tracks behind me.

I could hear Cal let out a low whisper behind me. "…Ben?"

The man interposed himself between me and the door. As I stopped pushing forward, he started moving towards us, frame brimming with pent-up energy. There was no reason for it, I just knew. I'd done nothing to this guy, done nothing to anyone but try to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Even still, just like I'd read the heroes on the stage, his body language told a story so clear he might as well have been shouting at me: this angry, angry man was going to try to beat the shit out of me. To see if it made him feel any better, but mostly just because he could.

The me of a few weeks ago? He would have run, not walked the other way from conflict. The me of now, however?

After getting screwed over by circumstance again and again? First where and when I was on Earth Bet? Being poor, cold, hungry and homeless? Watching the gathering I'd hope to bank on to kickstart my escape plan go up in smoke to cheap mob mentality?

I was so done with everything I could only feel rage. Deep down in the pulpy grey ashpit that used to hold my heart, faint orange-white coals of some feeling, something real started glowing again. Something beyond faint annoyance, distant amusement, or dull interest, erupting a moment later into a fiery boat of emotion.

Rage.

I was faintly aware of the throbbing in my head ceasing, as I felt something coiling around my brain, locking all my concerns away in neatly sorted little rows on it's furthest back shelves, focusing me totally on the task at hand.

In that moment, the purpose of my existence was simple: Before I left this room, either this man would be dead, or I would be.

That was, until Cal stepped in front of me. I recoiled with surprise, and so did the coils of something.

"Ben, go!"

"No!" I exclaimed as the lanky college boy put himself between me and our incoming aggressor.

Cal shook his head. "Keep going!"

I could only imagine what had to be going through his head. Cal might have been tall, but this middle-aged, pink faced dude now only a few rows away was like a grizzly bear in camo. All hair, muscle, and a face made for hate to the point it wouldn't surprise me if you told me he was Hawley's brother or something. Why the hell would someone put themselves in the path of someone like that for someone like me?

The answer hit me like a charging Endbringer.

Because Cal idolizes heroes. He wants to protect innocents. And he sees me as someone worth protecting.

He sees me as a friend.

The world stopped spinning for a moment. The realization… it was obvious in hindsight, of course. Cal was an earnest sort, and I was good enough at selling myself to be good company when I wanted to be. It was just… At the risk of sounding totally lame here, it had been quite some time since someone had actually expressed interest in getting to know me, to the point I was having trouble processing the notion someone would ever try again.

And now my new friend was about ten seconds away from a beatdown.

Callum made a show of balling his trembling hands into fists as the massive man came within swinging distance. He even made the mistake of tucking his thumbs into his fists as he raised them up in an old time pugilist "put up your dukes" gesture.

Oh, Cal.

"B-back off!" he shouted at the man over the chaos all around us. The grizzly only grinned -revealing a mouth of yellowed, rotted nubs like corn kernels- and stepped forward. Cal made the mistake of taking a step back. Sensing weakness, the man came rushing in-

Screw. This.

-And hesitated as I roughly grabbed Cal's shoulder and shoved him aside. He was probably as stunned to see a much shorter man staring him down, my own hatred plain on my face. Hate for this situation, hate for myself for getting dragged into this. And most importantly, my undying hate for him, for getting in my way.

The man's hesitation only lasted for a split-second, before he advanced on my once again, one arm already coming up…

"Ben!" Cal shouted in horror.

And then I jabbed the man in the chest. I didn't even worry about it being a hard blow. The only thing that mattered was that my quick jab connected with him before his arm was even drawn halfway back.

CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

And immediately the Library unlocked. Shelves whipped past me at lightning speeds as my consciousness raced to the power I wanted. The instant I found it, the "book" practically flew off the shelf and into my mental grasp. Then, just as quickly as I grasped it, I released it.

The sensation of bestowing power is… difficult to convey. The closest analogy I can get is the act of strumming a guitar string, and not only hearing but seeing the sound and vibration as they travelled along the string. Starting at my "core", travelling along my outstretched arm to impact the man's being, embedding deep within his… his self on impact.

The change in the man's expression was instantaneous, his whole frame visibly jolted as he realized something had been done to him. Without even trying, I could see the mote of power that now resided in the man. It still registered as mine but was also existing separately from me, now. A book that was on lend, effectively.

But I wasn't done yet. Never taking my hand off the man's chest, I took a step forward and pushed.

The inner vibrations intensified, as I reached through the Connection and re-gripped the power I'd just released. I sent more power along the link and felt/saw as the mote of power brightened and expanded to better serve its purpose. Digging its roots deeper into the niches and crevasses of man's mind all the while.

When I was finally satisfied with my work, I lowered my arm and backed away. Exercising my full power for the first time was… intense, yet I was simultaneously aware of the fact it had really only taken me less than five seconds of real-time to get the desired result.

Despite that, the difference in the man was obvious by casual observation alone. The man who'd been coming at me before was gone, replaced by a stranger.

Where before his frame had been full of energy, now it was listless. Where before his face had been contorted with frustration mixed with glee at being able to take his problems out on me, now it was almost comically wide-eyed and slackened. And most importantly, where there had once been nothing, there now was power.

Our Connection might be broken, but I could still clearly see the power within him. A small cinder, stoked until it reached the intensity of a blazing star, it burned away everything within him except that which was needed to accomplish its purpose:

Absolute Mastery: Model Train Building.

"Back off!" I shouted at the man, playing it up for Cal. The actual functionality of the power was irrelevant, the important thing here was the degree of control it allowed. At this advanced level? Far more than enough to compel a mere peon to do as I commanded. At the sound of the command, the mote thrummed, seeming to yank the man's mind towards following my orders like a hand dragging a dog's leash.

Immediately, the man started walking backwards. Without even looking behind him, the man moved through the crowds of struggling people with his eyes still fixed on me the entire time

'Yes!' I couldn't hold back an exultant grin. I felt a sense of inherent rightness not quite my own as the pressure in my head finally abated. Like I'd been holding in a breath for far too long and finally released it, exulting as I took in refreshing breath after breath of taking in fresh, crisp air.

"…Holy shit." I looked and saw Ben staring at me with wide-eyed incredulity, confusion mixed with awe. I quirked an eyebrow, unashamed as I drank in his attention. "Ben, how did you-?"

That was as far as he got, before yet another random guy in the rapidly growing free-for-all collided full-force with my thrall. The big man didn't seem to offer any real resistance to being forcefully pulled to the ground. I caught a hint of what just might have been a half-hearted grunt as he hit the floor, before the guy that knocked him over quickly picked himself off the floor and just as swiftly threw himself back into the skirmish with a battle cry.

Cal swore, mouth agape.

I couldn't help but grin. "See? He was all talk." Not my most convincing lie, but it the best I could come up with in a moment. Cal managed to reattach his jaw as the heroes on the stage started shouting for calm again.

"Time to go!" I repeated as I grabbed a hold of my friend's arm, feeling a profound relief that was entirely my own as the itch to use my power failed to manifest. Cal was either too stunned or relieved to resist my touch as I pulled him along. I was surprised as we neared the exit. He pushed forward from standing behind me to beside me, working with me to muscle the rest of the crowd out of the way. Already a couple dozen people had muscled their way out, but there were still so many more trying to get through.

A few more shoves and we were home fr e e -

-And then suddenly we weren't.

Just as the open doors were but a few feet away, I felt something ooze over me from behind. Was a gust of wind supposed to feel… thick? The world took on a hazy, blueish tint as I started feeling… heavy. An eerie sensation that felt like I was trying to walk face first into a strong wind while also wading upstream through a river of molasses. The further I tried to push through the effect, the more effort it took to make any headway at all.

Progress gradually became nearly impossible, a herculean effort to move even an inch. I started to panic as myself and everyone around me were effectively rendered living statues, frozen in place. For a moment I was convinced time had stopped, but as my own panic subsided I slowly became aware of the faint groans and moans of the other audience members also caught in the effect.

Slowly, with the level of effort I'd have usually attributed to having to lift a barbell over my head, I managed to wriggle my jaw open, enough to get out a semi-coherent approximation of words.

"Cuh… Cahl?"

"Yuh...Yuh, Behn?"

"Whut… happund?"

I'm not sure how he managed to make a groan sound like a sigh, but he did. "Halsheeon... huuh...happun."

Right on cue, there was a fuss behind us, like someone prying the microphone away from another human statue.

"People!" Halcyon's voice shouted from the direction of the stage, tone distorted slightly. "You will calm yourselves, right now!"

The man's tone sounded more exasperated than I'd ever heard it before. How refreshingly genuine.

The floor vibrated in time with the sound of footsteps. My paralyzed head was positioned juuust right to catch full view as the doors burst open, revealing a wall of body armor and mirrored faceplates.

PRT reinforcements, right in front of us.

How... typical.

"Aye… aye thunk I… huh… huuh… hhhhate that ghuy."