Interlude – Win

Such stupid questions.

"No. I don't know anything about Cauldron."

The reporter began frantically writing anyway, and at that point Chris was ready to just be done with it. He'd never been particularly excited to do a second debut. That part was mostly busy work and had long lost its glamour.

He still didn't expect it to be so tedious.

Standing on the stage in his new armor, he'd expected—hoped even—someone would notice the colors. Rust red and chrome white; Aegis and Clockblocker's colors. It was sentimental and emotional, but it meant something to him. When he picked red and gold for his old costume, he did it because Hero was his favorite hero and red his favorite color.

Neither of those things seemed important anymore, to who he was or who he wanted to be.

The GM loomed behind him, and he had gotten a few questions on that. Questions about whether or not he got the idea for a suit from Newtype, how it would be deployed, and whether or not he thought a Ward should be so heavily armed and armored; obviously, not for regular patrols because the Youth Guard were more in the way than helpful, and villains didn't care nearly as much as people thought.

After that though, it was all about Cauldron. As if Chris really had an opinion.

Well, he did.

It sounded wrong, twisted even. Making the Case-53s? Killing people to keep secrets? That's not what heroes should do. PR of course, didn't want anyone saying anything but "I don't know." For once Chris didn't mind that because he really didn't know.

Was it true? The whole story, or only parts? If so, which ones. No one was going to tell a Ward so why ask him?

"That'll be all for questions," Renick decided, his voice as tired as Chris felt. "Thank you everyone for coming. Please direct further inquiries to Ms. Gruman."

With that, troopers and interns began clearing the gallery, and Chris only needed to endure a few moments longer. Never drop the heroic pose with media around. He finally relaxed when the last camera turned away and hid his disappointment.

"Sorry about that, son," Renick said. Chris found it weird to be called 'son' by a man that couldn't be that much older than him. Well, definitely older, but not old enough to be his father. "That's not what you wanted or what you deserved."

"Is what it is, sir," Chris replied.

Renick nodded and rose from his seat. "The colors look good on you."

Well… He could smile at that. At least someone outside PR understood. Turning to the GM, Chris crossed his arms and lamented that's the only thing they understood.

After using it to defeat Bitch and fight the Butcher, no one was bitter enough to confiscate the suit or forbid its use. Even still, the restrictions he'd gotten were so heavy he'd probably just end up breaking them.

Oh well.

"You should hurry downstairs," the deputy director suggested. "Busy day. Not much time for socializing."

Socializing?

Raising his arm, Chris tabbed the controls under his wrist and the suit flashed away, teleported back to his workshop. He'd refined the system a fair bit, so he could get the armor anywhere within a few blocks. Once he got the transponders working, he could probably have it anywhere in the city.

Pick the right place and time, and PR wouldn't be able to complain. Again. Easy.

Turning from the room, Chris followed a pair of troopers out a side door and down an isolated hall. It was a busy day. More PR briefings on how to deal with all the Cauldron questions. More training for how to handle Blue Cosmos.

Behemoth was expected next week.

Normally the Protectorate tried to be around before an Endbringer, but everyone was busy now with all the commotion. Armsmaster was working on some new project, and that meant Miss Militia and Stratos were doing all the PR. Rory had been benched. No one said why, but Chris could guess. Prism was worried about him.

All-in-all, nobody had been around much the past week. Not even Nobody. Alec had apparently gotten used to having a second player again.

Still blew his mind everyone let the stranger come and go, but he supposed that was what separated Piggot from Renick. Renick wasn't anywhere near as untrusting. Nobody hadn't caused any trouble or hurt anyone that they knew of. Why make a huge fuss of her coming and going from hanging out with the Wards? They let Newtype and Laughter do it all the time.

Chris was exiting the elevator when he saw her.

He stopped, watching for a moment because he didn't quite believe it. Then he beat a quick pace down the hall toward the gym doors.

"Missy."

She turned, and after looking him up and down, smiled. "Nice duds. Upgrade?"

"Y—Yeah."

He'd been worried but he didn't want to pry.

Everyone knew Missy was moonlighting as an independent with Glory Girl. Consensus seemed to be trying to tell her to stop would worsen things, push her further away. The only thing worse than a Ward on an extended leave of absence was a Ward outright quitting.

Chris didn't want her to feel pressured, so he kept his distance.

"You doing okay?" he asked.

"Fine," she said. "Sorry I missed the rebranding. They wouldn't let me in. Apparently a girl Vista's age, body type, and height would be"—she raised her hands and made air quotes—"suspicious."

"Sounds like PR."

She cocked one eyebrow at him. "Win, huh?"

"I like it."

"Alec is going to subject you to an endless number of puns."

"I've noticed."

"How'd it go?"

Thinking about it honestly… "Better than it could have been, worse than I'd hoped."

"Sounds like PR."

He chuckled. She seemed better than before. More color in her face and spring in her voice. She sounded comfortable, if not happy, under the cynicism. A far cry from how depressed, distracted, and lost she'd seemed before.

She started toward the common room, and Chris fell in beside her.

"What brings you by?" he asked.

"I'm coming back."

He stopped. "Really?"

"Yeah. What, you don't want me?"

"N-No."

He just didn't think she'd come back. She'd been so shaken after what happened. Whenever she was in her costume, she seemed constantly uneasy. When out of her costume she looked angry. Chris always thought Missy would do what was best for her—why shouldn't she?—and leaving the Wards would be best for her.

He couldn't blame her. How could she stay after what happened?

Taylor would take her in a heartbeat. Teaming up with Glory Girl seemed like a natural transition, for both of them. If not Celestial Being itself, then whatever Taylor seemed preparing to set up. She'd been hinting for most of the past week at starting 'something new.'

"Can I ask why?"

"I'm feeling better now," she answered. "Besides, seems like you guys could use all the help you can get."

The common room door opened, and Alec craned his head back over the couch.

"Huh," he said through a mouthful of gummi bears. "Figured you ditched us for something more glamorous."

"You wish," Missy retorted. "And stop talking with your mouth full, it's disgusting." She walked around the couch and plopped herself down. "I leave for a few weeks and manners go down the toilet."

"You're still too young for me," Alec jested. "At least for four more years."

"You're too young for me," Missy replied. "By about sixteen years. Don't worry, you'll get there."

Alec stopped and turned to look at her. She snatched his gummi bears and took a handful.

She seemed different. More confident in herself. Well, Missy had always been confident, but it came with no small amount of petulance. Not to dismiss her—Chris knew she hated that—but Missy acted more her age than she realized. Not now. Something changed.

"Are you okay?"

Alec never asked if anyone else was okay. Something was definitely wrong.

"I should be asking you," Missy replied. "All this Cauldron stuff is heavy."

"I'm waiting for the announcement about the lizard men."

"All anyone did after a few simple questions was ask me about it," Chris admitted. "I said 'I don't know' and they ate it up."

It was getting crazy.

Alexandria and Chief-Director Costa-Brown had gone on stage together to dismiss the idea they were the same person. Someone actually asked Alexandria to take her mask off and prove it. PHO was all over it. Body doubles. Clones. Strangers. Masters. It was a madhouse. Tin Mother kept locking the threads, but people kept making new ones.

"How's Weld handling it?" Missy asked.

"Not well."

"He's okay."

Missy scoffed and ate a sugar bear. "Sounds about right."

Weld had been on the phone a lot lately. Hunch and Gully. Those were the only names Chris overheard that he knew. Someone named Nyx sounded familiar but he wasn't sure.

The Case-53s held their own connections beyond what the PRT or Protectorate arranged. Support groups and stuff. Even villainous 53s were welcomed and talked openly with heroic 53s about their problems.

Chris wondered if the news would send them all off banding together, but so far he hadn't heard of anyone quitting directly. Except for Arbiter, but Arbiter didn't say why she quit.

His own parents were disinterested in even talking about it. Chris didn't know how to feel himself, he supposed. It was absurd. That's what he wanted to say. Some of the things he'd seen though… It made him wonder.

"Guess you could use all the help you can get," Vista noted.

Chris scowled. Is that why she came back? To the place that—whether they liked to admit it or not—left her to whatever fate Cranial's kids had in mind?

"Thought you'd be jumping to sign up with golden girl," Alec mumbled.

"My parents would never let me. If I ever managed to convince one to let me leave the Wards, the other would just refuse and be difficult about it. And then they'd take opposite positions on joining up with Taylor. They don't need any more reasons to fight and I don't need to waste my time asking."

"But if you're not comfortable…" Chris trailed off, unsure which side he should be arguing.

"Being a hero isn't about being comfortable. It's about doing for others what they can't do for themselves."

Chris tilted his head. She said it so calmly, but so firmly. Like a creed.

Missy gagged. "These gummi bears are garbage."

"And now she's a candied bear connoisseur," Alec grumbled. He returned his attention to his game, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Well, guess the old team's back together. Hip-hip hurray."

Missy didn't deny it, and despite all the reservations, Chris smiled. He rested a hand on the back of the couch and pulled his helmet off. "Guess we are."

"Pretty sure the three Musketeers die at the end," Alec pointed out.

"Of old age," Missy grunted.

"You sure?"

"Yup. Don't worry. I'll protect your fragile body."

He didn't know what came next. If even half the stuff people now thought was true, the PRT was probably finished. Protectorate too. If the Protectorate fell, there probably wouldn't be any Wards. After that things got confusing and uncertain, but he'd rather ride it out than walk away.

Missy wouldn't be the only one whose circumstances didn't care what she did or didn't want. There were others too. Weld and the 53s. Younger Wards. Capes like Dauntless who needed the job to support their kids.

Heroes don't jump off a sinking ship at the first sign of trouble.

They get everyone else into the lifeboats.