AN: Another of anothvortex's epilogue chapters from Spacebattles.

Side-Story: A Cold Welcome: Los Angeles

Walking swiftly behind his guide and chaperone, Dean struggled to maintain their current pace. He had barely settled into his new apartment two hours prior before being summoned to the L.A. Protectorate office. He liked to think he was a team player. That he could roll with the punches like the best of them. But the miasma of disapproval and suppressed anger that Arbiter had been radiating since they met wore him down worse that any lack of sleep or conversation with his father.

It was not the most auspicious start to his new placement.

Finally reaching an isolated conference room, Arbiter directed him in. Waiting was an unfamiliar man in a suit and a PRT lieutenant surrounded by stacks of paperwork. The local Protectorate hero took the third seat in the line, leaving him with the remaining chair across the table. Sitting down, Dean felt like he was facing a firing squad. A state of mind that was only emphasized by their universal aura of disapproval.

The man in the suit spoke first, his brusque manner similar to many of the elder Stansfield's underlings. "Welcome to L.A., Gallant. My name is Desmond Winters. I'm a PRT special liaison to our Wards program, and will be in charge of your evaluation and integration onto the team. To my left is Lieutenant Bryce on loan from the troop training camp in San Francisco, and I believe that you have already met Arbiter in her role as your Protectorate sponsor. Now we have a lot to do, so if you have any questions please ask them now so that we can get started."

Swallowing at the negativity hidden underneath their skin, Dean spoke up as best as he could. "Please forgive me, but a special liaison? Is that normal? Back in Brockton Bay we tended to work directly with Deputy Director Renick for most of our day to day work." He knew that such a question might be rude, but given the lack of allies, he needed to know just how much trouble he was in.

Thankfully, they were all professional enough to not get irritated with the perceived disrespect. "As I understand it, the Brockton Bay office was smaller and tended to micromanage it's assets. Los Angeles has quite a few more Wards, and helps support one of the Triumvirate. That means more funds to invest into our local command, and more room for a comprehensive Ward's program. I'm actually one of three special liaisons that keep track of said program."

Nodding, the teen asked the next question that the introduction had sparked. "You said that there will be an evaluation period. May I know what that entails?"

Lieutenant Bryce spoke up next. "Your old command used you one way, but L.A. might find something that works better for our office. That means comprehensive power testing as well as physical and mental evaluations across the board to better determine what you are capable of. Particularly any skills that your prior command might have misunderstood or overlooked. We try to be careful about that sort of thing on the West Coast." The sheer spite hidden behind that answer almost gave Dean a migraine.

Working through the pain, he asked his final question. "Is there any paperwork that I need to read or review before we begin? Just so that I know what I'm getting into?"

With that Arbiter reached into a nearby stack. "Your father has already approved our testing protocols, but you may review them before we begin." The woman's voice was melodious, but the cold rage was stabbing him between the eyes.

Looking over the dense lines of text, finished with a very familiar signature, the young Parahuman just knew things could only get worse.

Sadly, no matter what his former girlfriend said about his intelligence, his instincts had been on the nose. For the next week the trio put him through the wringer. If he was not reviewing proper procedure and guidelines with Mister Winters, then he was doing laps in the PRT training grounds. After nearly collapsing three hours after that, Arbiter would have him run through every application of his power he had used or even contemplated before brainstorming new ones to test. While there was the odd spike of emotion during the process, she was disturbingly thorough. After that there were infrequent rest and food breaks followed by sleep.

By the end of his evaluation, Dean was physically and emotionally exhausted.

Which was the point that Alexandria decided to introduce herself.

He had entered the same conference room as before, limbs aching and head heavy, only to find his three judges (or tormentors), standing against the far wall. Sitting in their place was the Triumvirate Brute, reviewing the ever present paperwork with inhuman grace. However, all the teen could see was a static filled image without any color. As far as his powers were concerned, the woman might as well have been a wind up toy.

Then she spoke, and the illusion was shattered. "Sit down, Mister Stansfield. Allowing you to collapse will accomplish nothing productive."

Dean sat.

Alexandria continued to review the paperwork, leaving him to stew for nearly half an hour. Finally, her helmet tilted upwards to face his own eyes behind his domino mask. The sheer force behind that gaze made him wish his armor was out of storage. "I've been going over your marks, and for a fresh recruit they're above average. A normal teenager, athlete or not, would have collapsed by day three. A veteran Ward, on the other hand, should be much better. I'll have to make a note for whoever takes over Brockton Bay ENE. It is clear that, based upon this and Legend's initial reports about your old teammate Clockblocker, the city needs to revamp their program on top of everything else."

Swallowing at the casual dismissal in the older woman's tone, the Ward kept his mouth shut.

The living icon did not seem to care. "As you might have guessed, the disaster surrounding Braid has made several people have very bad days. Quite a few have been fired, blacklisted, or brought up on criminal charges. Things escalated to a degree I've rarely seen, and they are still trying to untangle the last of the details. In fact, I just came from your old command after being told to screw myself by Armsmaster. I think it's the best bit of leadership he has indulged in since taking on Brockton Bay. Oh, he's probably on his way out for everything, but we're already in talks with Dragon about a smooth transition to the Guild."

Hearing that, Dean did not know what to think. Armsmaster was one of the most career driven Parahumans he had ever met. To hear that he threw it all away was just mind blowing to the teen.

That was when she folded her hands and he knew that he was in real trouble. "Now Mister Stansfield, I want you to think about this for a second. All of the lives changed, from the ill-fated Shadow Stalker to your entire former command. The work put in to resolve everything, from sending in reinforcements to find our wayward Ward to the man hours fully investigating how we got here today. I wonder if you realize how many of those people are currently contemplating your messy death or imprisonment right now. A fate that I am preventing through far too much effort for such substandard results."

Swallowing at the near satisfaction that statement caused for Arbiter, Dean spoke up. "I'm sorry, people want to kill me? For not misusing my powers?"

Alexandria replied, acting like he was a two year old. "Misusing your powers would mean manipulating the emotional spectrum of those around you for personal gain. Instead, you sat on at least two toxic emotional states and actively worked to enable a cycle of abuse. We have mandatory reporters for a reason. If Director Piggot was not interested in hearing you, as per previous testimony, then you try Renick, or Aegis, or Armsmaster, or Miss Militia, and so on. If that doesn't work, under the Master Stranger protocols, which you are certified in, you contact Watchdog for a third party intervention. You do NOT sit on it and hope that everything works out. That's the sort of thinking that lost us Ellisburg. Brockton Bay did not need another Nilbog, and believe me it came far too close for comfort!"

Reaching into a drawer, the Triumvirate Brute withdrew a digital recorder. Maintaining her unwavering stare, she hit the play button. For the next twenty minutes, Dean felt his life truly fall apart, as a recording from the Brockton Bay news spoke about the tragic death of Glory Girl and an all out war against the Empire. He knew what he had with Vicky was over, but that did not mean he wanted her dead!

At that point, the weight of his mask was too much. The teen grabbed it and threw the offending piece of plastic at a wall, tears leaking from his eyes.

The older hero let him sob for several minutes before speaking again, her tone unchanged. "Braid heard that same radio clip and decided to draw a line in the sand. Utilizing the skills of the resurrected Tattletale, she found a group of Empire Parahumans fighting with Armsmaster that included Glory Girl's murderers. Within two minutes at the most, she managed to kill, capture or depower six of their number and used that energy to revive Victoria Dallon. They are currently recovering under observation at the Brockton Bay PRT building."

If he had been standing, Dean would have collapsed from his emotional whiplash.

The Triumvirate member did not let him relax for long. "Now, I want you to think VERY CAREFULLY about what would have happened if Braid had rebranded herself as Isis after breaking, only there was no teen villain with a soft spot for a sob story. No pack of misunderstood teens who recognized Braid as an innocent victim and offered their friendship. Imagine how quickly the PRT, the Protectorate, the rest of the Wards, and the remainder of Brockton Bay would have been wiped out if Shadow Stalker had managed to damage her empathy to the point of not caring. Then think about what your little plan would have done to speed up the time line. I assure you, every Director and member of the Think Tank is."

The young man thought about it, and nearly threw up when confronted with the reality of the situation.

Alexandria waited for Dean to regain his composure before her tone became even more business like. "Now, after a careful evaluation of your results, it has been decided that you will be rebranded. The identity of Gallant is being retired due to stress from the Brockton Bay fiasco. We are here to discuss your new identity and duties going forward."

That statement broke him out of his stupor. "Rebranding? But I bought my armor out of my personal funds. I'm more than willing to subsidize a local Tinker to do the appropriate maintenance on it."

Pushing forward a stack of paperwork, the older Parahuman did not budge. "It's true that you bought your armor in an effort to obscure your abilities in Brockton Bay. However, you were effectively leasing the identity. The Protectorate owns the image rights to Gallant, and believe that it is no longer an appropriate fit. In addition, the only reason that you were able to get such a low upkeep cost was that Kid Win used your armor as a part of his development protocols. The local Protectorate and Ward Tinkers learning about your armor technology and perpetuating the illusion of your Tinker speciality would be cost prohibitive. We have already confirmed this with your father."

Taking out a second stack of documents, she continued in a much colder tone. "In addition, your relocation to L.A. was contingent on a five year probationary service period at our discretion. Attempt to leave early, and you will be put on a list of offenders. Every future partner, job, or federal employee you worked with would have to be notified of your Parahuman power, or that you were on a government registry. While the exact nature of such a registry could stay secret, certain unavoidable parallels would probably be made. Failure to do so could be interpreted as intent to assault with a Parahuman power. Fulfill your obligations, and prove you can learn from your mistakes on the other hand, and we will preserve your identity as a Protectorate hero."

Quickly reviewing the agreement with practiced ease, as well as the appropriate statues and authorization from his family, Dean slumped in defeat. "What did you have in mind, Ma'am?"

Smiling slightly, Alexandria became much more gracious. She could afford to, having won after all. "I believe that we should work to highlight your powers instead of obscure them. Ever since the Canary Trial, Human Controlling Master Powers have been demonized more than at any time since the appearance of the Simurgh. Our image department is concerned, and I agree, that we need to reverse this trend unless we want to drive every single Master cape right into villainy. You are one of our best chances to change than impression."

Reaching into another folder, she pointed out various costume designs, mostly featuring a medical motif. "The current plan is to provide your exhaustive training on medical ethics and general therapy. We will have you go to psychiatric hospitals to work with volunteers to get more experience. Brockton Bay used you like a blunt instrument. Sticking you in armor and having you blast the bad guys. Here in L.A. we try to be a little more nuanced. There will be study, specialized tutoring and exhaustive lectures of medical ethics. We hope to have you working on public outreach and as a therapy aide within six months to a year. Independent action will depend upon how quickly you progress. But in the end, this will allow you to help more people than throwing a punch or a kick ever could."

Picturing himself wandering from room to room, surrounded by disjointed and exaggerated emotions constantly for the rest of his life, Dean had to fight back a shudder.