Side-Step A TGBO

Armsmaster stepped into the lab, but he didn't see her.

"Where is Newtype?"

The sound of pencil against paper continued. Armsmaster kept his frustration in check. Fuguing is normal for tinkers, as he well knew. Events weren't the boy's fault anyway.

Foreign capes made everything more complicated, and by more complicated he mostly meant excessive amounts of paperwork. "Waste of time" might be a more accurate description. He'd rather hunt for the assassin and simply deal with the problem.

Instead, the State Department wanted to lecture him on the finer points of foreign policy.

The Sanc Kingdom is a symbol of people rising from the ashes. Ignore her politics. They don't matter. That the Sanc Kingdom exists at all is what matters. The President is adamant. Nothing can happen to her, let alone on US soil.

So they said.

In other words, every "t" needed to be crossed and every "i" dotted. That included getting statements from Newtype, Laughter, and StarGazer. Of course, he took their statements the previous night, but the State Department wanted ones that asked their questions.

Armsmaster didn't know what idiot proposed asking Newtype if she affiliated with any European radical groups. Even if she were, and he felt certain she was not, why would she admit it?

He approached at a steady pace, halberd tucked against his shoulder.

"Kid Win—"

He stopped.

Chris clearly took the inspiration from Newtype's armor system, and his design shared the same deficiencies. Armsmaster dismissed them. PR would never approve the design, and for once Armsmaster agreed with the assessment. Overly militant, too bulky, inefficient, and clearly derivative.

Instead, Armsmaster focused on the design of a reactor housing.

Chris's handwriting covered the page, but at various points someone crossed out his equations and rewrote them. They drew his eye instantly. Many tinkers never studied the scientific fields related to their power, but Colin made a habit of keeping up with the latest research as time allowed. Progress seemed to slow more and more every passing year. The government kept moving money out of research departments and labs. Grants increasingly went to tinkers and corporate hero teams.

The tragedy of the scientist.

Armsmaster set his visor to record as he flipped through the pages.

After collecting them, and confirming Chris' current work concerned something else, Armsmaster turned and left.

Clockblocker said something about someone going the speed of light as he crossed the Ward room. Preposterous. Even Legend's highest recorded speed didn't quite reach the speed of light.

He set aside an unimportant meeting with PR. Militia could handle it when she got back from patrol. Instead, Armsmaster crossed the city on his bike and returned to the Rig.

His lab resembled a mix of office and research center, and he kept it meticulously organized. He busied himself for a time. He put away his armor, stowed his halberd, and organized a few tools. The motions centered him, made it easier to focus.

After organizing a few loose files and setting aside some of Chambers' damn paperwork, he downloaded the recording form his helmet and started assembling the design.

Once he finished the simulations began.

A light pinged, and a screen next to his desk flashed on.

Dragon smiled.

"Colin, didn't you have a meeting with PR?"

"Militia can handle it," he replied. "She's better at it anyway."

"Because she actually goes to the meetings."

Colin grunted.

More important things deserved his time, though he expected another lecture from Piggot about the responsibilities of leadership. He respected the woman, but she desperately needed to lighten up. Most might find that an odd sentiment coming from him, but he took that as confirmation of his point's validity.

"What are you working on?" Dragon asked.

"Something I found Kid Win working on."

"Is he still struggling?" The concern in her voice was admirable.

Remedial therapy and specialized tutors seemed to have no effect on Chris' dyscalculia. Colin didn't want to be cruel, but some days he desperately wanted to tell the boy not to waste his time. Tinker powers filled in for a few deficiencies, but even tinkers needed to do some math. The process for approving tinker tech depended on calculations as accurate as possible, and no one who worked on an approval had the time to do it themselves.

The sad truth was Chris would never amount to much.

Such a waste, Colin thought. Of all the tinkers to appear in the bay the last few years, the only ones of real note turned out to be Leet and Newtype. Leet's power held a drawback so significant the boy might as well be written off with Chris. Newtype…

Well, Chariot seemed to have potential. What Colin saw of Trevor Medina's tech impressed him, and he didn't have Chris' deficiency.

The results of the simulation came back.

Colin ran it again.

"Is there something you needed help with?" he asked.

He immediately chided himself for such an untactful approach. Talking with Dragon felt a lot like organizing his tools at times, but he always managed to bungle it somehow.

"Oh. I was wondering if you made any progress since the conference. I'm having a hard time thinking of recommendations."

Yes, Chambers' damnable paperwork.

Dragon frowned. "You're not still upset, are you?"

"I was never upset," Colin said. Dragon smiled wryly, and the man admitted, "I am perturbed."

"No one likes to be reminded they're getting old."

To put it mildly.

Even with his latest batch of stimulants and steroids, he doubted he'd be able to maintain his physical peak, no longer than anyone else. He envied Alexandria and her eternal mid-thirties.

"It does make sense," Dragon replied. "The Protectorate, and the Guild, can't just wait."

"I agree. I simply don't enjoy talking about it. We're not ready for the retirement home yet."

"Which is all the more reason to start now," Dragon said. "In ten years, when the earliest Protectorate members start reaching their mid-fifties and the Inaugural Wards follow a few years later, someone needs to take up the flag. That's what NextGen is for."

"Chambers thought up that name."

She chuckled. "Probably. It sounds like something he'd conjure."

The Conference lasted a whole three days. PR bothered to fly every Protectorate leader in the country to DC and have them all meet in person. The Secretary of Defense, Joint Chiefs, the Chief Director, and the Vice President all attended together, along with Narwhal and Dragon given the Guild's close ties to the Protectorate and PRT.

Chambers made his pitch, and they all seemed to love it.

"Chevalier named Flash right on the spot," Dragon noted. "I've been familiarizing myself. I didn't know Commander Noa had a son."

"They don't get along as well as they'd like. I'm not aware of the specific issue."

"Parents and children," Dragon said with a smile.

Colin turned and started poking through the stacks of files.

"Weld will be named," he guessed. "I'm certain of it."

"He polls well for a case 53," Dragon admitted. "He's popular with people thirteen to thirty-two."

"He's a good leader. Armstrong has been shopping around for somewhere to send him. It's hard to shine in Specter's shadow. She'll be named too I suspect." He thought on it, adding, "I'd expect Myriad from Huston, and Flechette from New York to be named as well."

"What about you?" Dragon asked.

"I'm too old," Colin said bitterly.

The entire point of the program was to replace him in the field. To relegate him, and others who built the Protectorate, to desks and labs for the rest of their lives.

He tried to be rational about it. He was good at what he did, one of the best even. He put years of hard work, sweat, and toil into his equipment and career. Even if he sucked at the public relations and interpersonal side of things, he'd made a name for himself. Achieved national recognition for his commitment and progress.

He hated the thought of ending all of that…It felt too soon.

"I meant Brockton Bay," Dragon clarified.

Of course she did.

"Prism maybe," Colin suggested. "A transfer might be in her best interests. She's had no opportunities to develop herself in Brockton Bay, but I see the potential."

"Triumph? Velocity?"

"They lack confidence."

"That can be developed."

"They don't meet the current criteria."

"Dauntless?"

Dauntless. Colin hid his frown. It all came so easily to him, effectively a tinker with no need to spend any time tinkering. A touch a day and his equipment grew stronger, and stronger. In the past year his air speed tripled, and the force of his lance doubled. His shield grew larger and stronger when activated.

No work. No effort. No sweat and toil for the tiniest of breakthroughs. A cheap hero.

"He has the potential," Colin admitted. "It might be moot though. He'd need to be transferred to another city to take on a leadership role. Piggot won't let him go, and his son lives here in the Bay."

"And the Wards?"

"Aegis is too soft for real command. PR wouldn't want to promote him that way regardless."

"Spilling blood everywhere isn't very picturesque," Dragon admitted. "Even if it keeps you alive."

"Kid Win and Browbeat have too many personal issues, and their powers aren't good enough. Valiant is a bad influence. No one is fooling themselves on that front."

"Clockblocker?"

"Good power, but he's too unpredictable as a person. PR won't want to promote him as a leader for the future. No one would take the program seriously."

Colin shook his head.

"No. The only Ward I think I can recommend is Vista."

"Have you told her that? You've said she struggles with being a Ward, being treated like a child."

"She is a child."

"A child you think can lead the Protectorate one day."

"One day. "Her time will come. I don't want her getting too arrogant before it happens."

Dragon shrugged. "What about the local villains and independents?"

"The villains who are young enough are not salvageable, or I don't have enough to make an informed opinion. For the independents, Panacea would be perfect, but she'll never break ranks with her family. Glory Girl is too brazen. Parian has already refused the offer to join the Wards, even after Piggot promised her a position that wouldn't require patrols or fights."

"Why?" Dragon asked. "Her identity—"

"She stated she did not wish to be involved in any organization that promotes violence." Foolish girl. "She'll just have to hope Newtype's threat against the gangs works."

Dragon's eyes flickered at the mention of the name. Colin regretted it instantly.

"And what about Newtype? I…I've been thinking of naming her myself."

"She's refused to join the Wards as well."

"I'm aware, but she hasn't refused to join the Protectorate, or the Guild yet. Given her background, I suspect she simply doesn't want to be around people her own age. It's not hard to see why."

Colin raised his head. Dragon was a busy woman. Sometimes he thought the Guild put too much responsibility on her, but the fact she did so much spoke for itself. She managed the Birdcage, manufactured containment foam for the entire world, and developed more hardware and software than he cared to spend time listing.

Colin often thought of himself as one of the hardest working heroes in the world, but he didn't hold a candle to Dragon. She didn't need to sleep, and as jealous as that made him, it didn't change how much he admired her contributions.

He supposed it wasn't shocking she didn't know.

"Newtype recruited Laughter," he said.

Dragon's eyes widened. "What?"

"Newtype attacked one of the ABB's smaller operations last night. I suspect it was a trial run. Laughter was with her, in a costume clearly designed by Newtype and armed with one of her photon blades."

"Laughter," Dragon pondered. "The vigilante?"

"Some kind of combat thinker I suspect," Colin surmised. "They disabled all the ABB present with only a few injuries."

He held back on mentioning the assassination attempt. The State Department wanted the matter kept as shut as possible, and Dragon was technically a foreign national.

"Did Laughter come to her, or did she go to Laughter?" Dragon asked.

"Unknown, but the intention is clear. Newtype is forming her own team. I don't think she has any intention of joining the Protectorate, or the Guild."

Let her hang herself, Piggot said. Colin didn't know if she meant Newtype or Laughter. English can be imprecise.

The simulation finished again.

Dragon spoke up, saying, "I might recommend her myself."

All the obsession over one arrogant little girl. "Why?"

"I've been looking at data on her suit. Ramius' report said she calls it Gundam. It's as good as anything I'm building right now, Colin. It's her first attempt. Imagine what she'll be producing in five years."

"I have," he grumbled.

Ten to twelve years, he figured. Ten to twelve years and producible technology would reach the sufficient level necessary to build it.

Colin lamented the tragedy of the scientist.

People began researching the possibility of fusion for electric generation before the atom bombs reached their targets. Tens of hundreds, thousands, of the brightest minds in human history dedicated their lives to the pursuit, each looking for that one little step that might draw them closer to the dream.

Tinkers brought it to an end, and despite himself he sympathized. Tinkers could build anything. They still needed to work for it, but it stole the glory all the same.

Yet, thirty years later and humanity sat no closer to realized nuclear fusion. Not in any way that might be called efficient or marketable. Tinker tech needed tinkers. Whatever miracles Colin and his peers worked, their powers alone did not provide the path to an energy revolution the world needed.

"We shouldn't alienate her," Dragon warned. "Sending her name in for NextGen at least reminds everyone that other capes exist, other heroes. We shouldn't forget about them."

"If that's what you want to do," Colin said.

Ten to twelve years.

Fifteen-years-old. A model student by all accounts before Shadow Stalker, but not a genius. People interviewed on the subject of Taylor Hebert seemed to find her more forgettable than anything. She achieved average scores in mathematics and science, her grades in English and history being much higher.

Throw in a super power, and it all turned upside down.

Colin turned the reactor design around in the simulated space of his computer system.

Tinkers worked with gaps of knowledge, bridging unknowns to arrive at the goal with only a limited idea how they arrived. Chris' equations reflected that reality. Some parts only a tinker could build, but they didn't matter. The theory mattered. The grounded, solid, science that bound the design together. In correcting Kid Win's math Newtype filled the gaps completely, the mystery doodled out in mere hours.

The technology to build such a reactor by mundane means needed time, but the theory worked backwards and forwards. There it sat plainly written, waiting and reproducible by anyone capable of understanding it.

Dragon was right.

Ten to twelve years for non-tinker technology to catch up, and anyone could build it. The world would change…at the snap of a child's fingers.