Waking up to the smell of breakfast wasn't something I was very familiar with. I think on most occasions, I would really like it. However, the night before I had planned on waiting for half an hour or so, and then assessing the situation to see whether or not I was going to make good on my agreement to try to not run away. It wasn't that I was sure I wanted to, but I wasn't sure I didn't want to either. It was very predictable in hindsight, but my plan had been foiled for the ridiculous reason of my falling asleep while I was waiting.

So the choice was out of my hands. I may as well accept it for now. It was probably for the best anyway, since it had seemed like he might have been expecting me to dash at the first chance I got. I may not have made it. For all I knew, there had been PRT agents stationed to watch all the exits, just so I couldn't leave without being seen.

Given the circumstances, I did the sensible thing: I had some breakfast. The bacon was slightly crispy but not too crunchy like some strange people liked it; the pancakes were light and fluffy; and the scrambled eggs were covered with cheese. In other words, breakfast was perfect. I had experienced uncle Jason's culinary aptitude before, but it had always baffled me. He had no reason to be good at cooking: no wife, no dependents, and he never hosted parties.

"I still don't understand," I mumbled, gesturing with my fork, "how you're such a good cook." It was a conversation we'd gone over before.

He grinned, leaning back from his own plate. "What can I say? It's just something I've always enjoyed."

I cut another slice off my stack of pancakes. After a few moments of thoughtful chewing, I finally swallowed and retorted, "I can see that, but that doesn't explain how you've ever found the chance to practice. I'm pretty sure you're not the type of guy to cook up a big meal for ten people every couple of days, and then just throw it out because you don't have ten people to eat it."

His grin only widened. "Well, Lily," he said, "I can actually tell you the real reason now." After taking a sip of orange juice, he continued, "In the early days of the Protectorate, we had a lot of long nights or early mornings trying to bring order to a city that wasn't sure if our legitimacy would stick. Had to work hard, long shifts, and that meant a lot of takeout. Everyone was getting tired of it, and so I started cooking. Even then, there was a fair amount of down time. Had to be ready at a moment's notice, but sometimes nothing would happen for hours. I realized that cooking helped me relax." He said with a shrug, looking at a wall but seeing memories from decades ago. "Made me pretty popular with the rest of the team, too." He finished, his old grin firmly back in place.

His mention of a team made me start to wonder. What were the Wards going to be like? Uncle Jason obviously spoke fondly of his days as a Ward, but my team could easily be different. I suddenly began to get apprehensive. I wasn't all that popular at school, what if nobody in the Wards liked me? I had grown adept at ignoring the petty insults and childish posturing in high school, but soon I would be meeting people that could literally change the world. People that I would have to rely on, and many of them were my peers! What if they thought I was a stuck-up ice queen there, too?

And here I was worrying about a team that I wasn't even sure I wanted to join. Sure, I had spent the last week pining to get admitted as a Ward. It had basically been all I could think about. But now...Well, the team still sounded interesting, but the PRT oversight was something I wasn't interested in. There were a few small independent hero teams in Chicago. I could probably join one of them, and not have to worry about working for the system that had ruined my entire nuclear family's life.

But a small part of me protested. "You're free now" it said. I stomped down hard on that part of me, but I had already thought it.

"Well," uncle Jason said, pushing his plate away from himself and leaning back in his chair. "You ready for your first day as a probationary Ward?"

I realized that either I had eaten enough to feed a small village, or the unhappy path of my ruminations had extinguished my appetite. Probably both. An errant minority of me was still really excited. Yuck. Apparently I was still had a bit of fangirl in me.

"Uh...sure. Yeah." I said lamely. "Let me just get ready."

[][][][][]

If uncle Jason would have told me that we were going to a gym, I probably wouldn't have dressed so nicely. It was the same gym I had left after giving my statement to the PRT several days and a whole different outlook on life ago. I felt a little conspicuous entering Bar-Belle's with my hair done nicely with just the right amount of curl and wearing a semi-formal skirt and blouse. Uncle Jason had protested when I had done up my hair and chosen that outfit to make appear, but I was certainly not going to look frumpy on my first day as a Ward.

Uncle Jason signed into the gym with me as a guest. He was even carrying a gym-bag to complete the look! It seemed like the type of gym that kept costs low by offering the amenities and nothing more. Sure, it looked clean and safe, but there were no large elaborate lobbies or wide furnished hallways that could be used as for walking or waiting. This gym was for exercise in its various forms.

We made our way back to one corner where there were a handful of private "family" changing rooms, each of which had two doors; one to the lobby, and one to the swimming area. Entering the third of four changing rooms, uncle Jason gestured me inside and firmly closed the door behind us. Smiling at me conspiratorially, he twisted the lock and then pulled out what was apparently some sort of key, but actually looked like a piece of metal about the thickness of a clothes-hanger wire attached to a plastic handle. All in all, it was about two inches long. There was hole that looked completely inconspicuous beneath the lock on the door that he inserted it into.

"This is where we change into our hero identities." He said, opening his gym bag. I quickly turned around to give him some privacy, then made my boring old t-shirt mask appear on my head. I pulled tight the sleeves, and then waited.

After a brief period, I heard the slightly-changed voice of Myrddin saying "Okay." I turned around just as he pulled on one of the hangers protruding from the wall that was set up for clothes. It swiveled to reveal a keypad.

After uncle Jason entered in a numeric code, I could feel the familiar sensation of an elevator without any of the accompanying noises. The door rose past the ceiling and the elevator ride ended just as quickly and abruptly as it had begun with only an opening where the door had been. I could feel a grin on my face and noticed uncle Jason looking at me with a very similar one on his under the cowl. We stepped out into the sparsely furnished underground tunnel that looked familiar from my previous excursion, though the elevator changing room was new.

From there, it was several hundred yards through the dimly-lit tunnel to the PRT base proper. Once we rounded a gentle curve, I could see the termination of the tunnel and realized that we were likely directly below the pier. Civilians visiting the PRT gift shop could be walking right over our heads at this very moment. The three guards stationed at the door leading into the base proper looked just as serious and unfriendly as they ever did.

As we approached, I could see that one of the guards had what looked like a pair of oxygen tanks strapped to his back. From these tanks ran a thick black hose terminating in a holstered weapon. Containment foam, I realized.

The right-most guard raised a hand when we were about fifteen feet away and said "Master/Stranger protocols sir. Please state your password." The containment foam sprayer was removed from its holster and leveled at us. Honestly, it was unnerving, even knowing that containment foam was supposed to be harmless.

Uncle Myrddin's voice sounded somewhat surprised as he said, "Myrddin. Monkey Green Kappa Four-One-Three."

The third guard radioed the password in, then apparently got a response. "Sir, what did Alexandria get you for your surprise party two years ago?"

Uncle Myrddin chuckled. "She wasn't there, but she sent a card. No money. We had a good laugh about how stingy she apparently was."

"Thank you sir." The guard replied. "We need to separate you from your guest to verify that she isn't controlling you in any way, but then you two can be on your way."

The other guard, the first one to speak approached me with a pistol drawn, though it was pointed at the ground. I hadn't even seen him draw it. My nervousness ratcheted up another notch. There was something wrong.

"Hello, Ma'am. I'm going to ask you to follow me over there a short ways." He said, gesturing with his shoulders more than his hands holding the weapon. "Do not make any sudden movements. Do not attempt to speak. Do not attempt to touch me. Do you understand? Nod or shake your head."

I almost opened my mouth to answer before I could help it. The other non-containment-foam guard was leading uncle Myrddin into the building. I was alone out here with these PRT agents. This wasn't good. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.

"Ma'am. Do you understand? Nod or shake your head. Now." The guard said sternly. His weapon was a fraction higher. Just barely pointed at the ground and not at me now.

I nodded, scared and subdued. If this was a trap, I was pretty sure there was nothing I could do.

"Follow me." He said as he began backing away from the entrance, never allowing his back to be facing me, never taking his eyes off me. Or so I presumed. His eyes were invisible inside his large high-tech looking helmet.

We went a short distance, probably less than ten feet, before he stopped and said, "Stay there." After a moment's hesitation to be sure that I was complying, he circled around me so that he was once again looking toward the incoming hallway and facing away from the PRT base. I noticed, however, that he kept from blocking the other agent's line of fire.

"Remember, do not speak. Do you know why you are here? Nod or shake your head." He said, his tone back to 'hard and uncaring' instead of 'terrifying and threatening.'

I nodded.

"Do you know Myrddin? Nod or shake your head." He asked.

I nodded. And then, we waited. It probably wasn't actually very long, but it was exhausting and unnerving and terrifying for me. I wasn't sure what to do, but with each passing moment, I was certain that something bad was going to happen. After less than thirty seconds, I could see the foam-wielding guard holster his weapon, which was mirror almost unerringly by the guard nearest me. His ready stance relaxed and he approached, empty hand out.

"Sorry about that, Ma'am. It's protocol." He said with a shrug. "I'm Agent Jennings."

Only then did I realize that the hand was meant to be a handshake. Still a bit shaken up, I hesitated, but eventually took the offered hand. "Uh...I'm not sure of my cape-name yet. But hi." I said lamely.

As we approached the door, the third guard exited and held the door open for me. "Sorry, Ma'am. He's just in there."

I walked through the door to finally see uncle Myrddin again. The PRT agents closed the door behind us and presumably went back to their posts. I had been worried about joining the Wards, but this was not exactly what I had been worried about. Maybe the actual meeting would go more smoothly. Hopefully.

"So, what was that all about?" I asked.