It's always quiet when you're flying. Odd thought but being up here doesn't leave you with too much to think about. Sure there's the ringing in your ears, but beyond that, there's nothing. The wind doesn't move your cape, and it doesn't brush through your hair unless you want it to. Until you do, you're left with the feeling of standing in the middle of some room, only the constant bobbing of fluctuating waves and clouds breaking you free of the illusion.
And even then it's still fantastic.
Flying is the second best thing to come out of joining Cauldron. Two months of living with powers and the fact that you could fly still hasn't gotten old. Hopefully, it never does. Above the cloud layer, you float above the metropolis that used to be called New York. It still is, but not many people went out of their way to call it a great city anymore.
Most of it was still there, but not all of it survived the Musicians. Well, you can't exactly say that they were just rioters back then with only a passing relation to the maestro himself: not even villains, just a bunch of scared people who didn't know how to handle their powers. Suddenly there's a guy on tv telling them to embrace those powers in the most violent ways possible while turning the British parliament into some demented form of target practice.
After that, it just took one person.
More specifically, one parahuman.
That was your official designation as a guy with superpowers. Manton coined it himself. One of the bigger reasons he'd been added onto Cauldron was to make a paper explaining superpowers as scientifically as possible. You have a copy in your room somewhere, didn't read the whole thing, barely understood half of what you read anyway. Either way, with the springboard of the end of Burning Advent the name caught on pretty quick. Manton became a bonafide scientific celebrity overnight when he admitted to being in league with you and the rest of the Founders.
… yeah, still can't get over that. They're calling you the strongest men and woman on the planet, and they're not wrong. New York could be a crater in an hour if you wanted to, probably less then that if you pushed it. You barely have an idea what Matthew and Rebecca could do, and you can't even imagine what Charles or heaven forbid David would do if they really want to get going. For a week all of you were beside yourselves worrying over how everyone would react.
But you spared Symphony.
You turned him over to the law.
And you were thanked.
Vigilantism is still a crime, though, not for any of you five. It's just… brushed off, according to Matthew. You don't know all the details, but you could watch the news. A few of the stations were already up in arms, calling you dictators just waiting to strike. Depressing thought considering everything you're doing. Good news is that Rebecca's hard at work thinking about those things while you're stopping another London. Or another New York.
Because on the night of Symphony's attack, before anyone could stop it, some kid tore up a deli in the middle of the city. Early reports have him as a kid in some school uniform with grey skin. Whatever he looked like, his little stunt set the city off. One by one parahuman started doing everything they could to appease this kid out of fear of their own lives. Pretty soon the entire city seemingly exploded with powered people coming out of the woodwork to destroy the city. The grey kid disappeared, and no one even bothered to look for him with the utter hell that started popping up. The bravest of the police went down fighting, trying to stop any parahuman as best they could.
President made a pretty good speech after everything was all said and done apparently. You didn't hear it, you were in LA at the time, stopping a parahuman calling himself Mongler.
Anyway, the little group got so much momentum the national guard was about to send in tanks before news of your victory over Symphony finally hits the states. It was like throwing a bucket of water on the campfire. Anyone with any sense left did their best to find somewhere to hide or just left the city for fear of anyone, or, even worse; you came in to stop them.
Atlas, the man who stopped Armageddon.
A bit too flashy for your tastes, but it worked well enough. Stopped most of the Musicians activities for the last month, most of them being too afraid to come out when they knew you or David were in town.
Speaking of said demi-ass, where is he?
As if by fate, David shimmers into view beside you. He stretches his neck and yawns. What is he tired about, his shift just started.
"Wrong side of the bed?"
His masks gives you a flat look while the rest of his head shakes.
"Just bored."
"That is the downside to work," you say flatly.
He glances at you, and now you know he rolls his eyes.
"I hope someone hits you with a rocket."
Oh for the love of...
"One time David. One time."
Yes, it was stupid of you. Hindsight you should've been paying more attention but in your defense, he pulled that out of fucking nowhere.
And it was a lucky shot. Barely left a scratch, though David didn't care. And he was small potatoes compared to Rebecca.
"Eidolon," he corrects.
Right, on the clock, code names only. Fair enough, that was unprofessional of you. You should be treating him to a name that benefits a man of his station.
"Ass."
David forces out a sigh, though not before he looks back at you.
"Whipped."
"...Seriously?"
David crosses his arms, tilting his head in that smug sense of superiority.
"Prove me wrong."
"He can't, Becca's got him by the balls," comes a new voice through your coms, "And just so you know, this is your friendly reminder that your coms are open!"
You kneed back a headache with your thumb, "Charles-"
"Ah-ah-ah, Hero."
You frown, and David doesn't even try to hide his snort.
"You too man? I thought we were friends?"
"Meh, Gotta spend my break time doing something."
"Then can you spare a second to give us an update on Manton?" David cuts in.
There's a rustling of paper and a grunt of annoyance on the other end of the line, and you cross your arms.
"Why do you want to hear about Manton?"
David shrugs, "Saw him on the news the other night. Had a big talk, I want to hear how it went."
"You could just call him," you point out.
"Charles needs to spend his break time doing something."
You frown, only to wince, a bit of feedback spikes through the line. Holding back a wince, you give David a look. Even he has a hand on his ear, annoyance dripping out of him. He notices your look and shrugs.
"What?"
Your roll your eyes and hello, what do you have here? Cars are veering off course, trying not to hit a single black dot of a person from up here. One isn't that lucky, ploughing it straight on. Despite every law of physics saying otherwise, the car is the one that's left a wreck at the side of the road.
"Finally," David says, puffing out just as Charles comes back.
"Well, Mr Curious, it went well enough that he's going to have another talk this after-"
"Yeah Charles thanks but can you hold that thought for a second?" you mutter cutting the line.
And with a blink, the waves under you wink out and you drop like a rock. A twist and you're plummeting straight down. A thought and the waves blast you down even faster till sound disappears. Concrete streets rise to meet you, and you cover the air in front of you with a cushion of waves grinding you to a halt while a dozen more keeps your neck from snapping.
When sound returns to you, the distressed cries are met with shouts and hollers of joy. People are screaming for you to do something to the poor man who went from a rampaging parahuman turned into a little kid. He's a few years older than you, bald and skinnier than what his stunt would make you believe. He's all but frozen where he stands. If he's smart, he knows he's finished. Even so, you see his eyes dart to a manhole cover, a light pole, even a car. You won't let him take any of those chances. He'll be out of it before he can flinch, that is if he doesn't choose the right answer.
"We're giving you one chance," you say raising a glowing hand.
A trickle of sweat runs down his neck, then David appears next to you, and whatever fire is in his eyes dies a cold death. He drops to his knees, barely managing to hold his hands over his head he's shaking so bad. Would you look at that, he chose right.
"You want the honors?"
"Might as well," David shrugs, raising his hand, "Have to feel like something came out of this."
David's glove glows white, and like an artist in a studio, only waves his hand in front of the man and he's gone. At one of Hero's many cells, you're sure.
"Another surrender," David sighed.
"Better than people getting caught in the crossfire."
"Yeah but it's less exciting," he says, only to pause mid-air, "The fight I mean."
"I know."
His shoulders slump but barely. Still needs to look good for the adoring crowds. He puffs out his chest, crossing his arms and chuckling as the crowds chant his name. Willing the waves, you take a spot next to him. You catch his fingers twitch but ignoring that, you wave, smiling all the way.
Something that sets the crowd off yet again.
Makes it nearly impossible to hear David mutter something under his breath. You don't need ears to see his grip on his arm goes strained. He drops both to his sides and makes for the sky, and you waste no time catching up to him. David doesn't even tilt his head when you catch up.
"Two days," he mutters, "We're on the lookout for two days, and this is all we're getting?"
"Sorry, fresh out of parahuman armies for you to fight."
"Wouldn't that be a treat," he scoffs.
"Damn you are bored."
He stops, rounding on you with literal fire in his eyes, "Why aren't you?"
"Why would I be?" you say immediately.
There's no thought in it, just word vomit at the moment, and it brings David slumping down. His arms fall limply to his side, and he grabs his forehead.
"I..I don't know." he says, power dimming from his eyes.
"You sure you don't need some sleep?"
David scoffs, crossing his arms again and tilting his head at you.
"Who do you think you're talking to?"
"I'm sorry i doubted you," you say, throwing your hands in surrender.
A flash of silver and your waves spike in the back of your head. David shakes his wrist out, mumbling something about tough idiots under his breath.
"Jokes aside," you say, gently patting him on the back, "What's on your mind?"
Shrugging off your hand, he inches away to groan, "First and foremost I'm hoping that you can give me some space."
Your smile falls off, and you return the slap that he gave you. Gently as you could, didn't want to break something.
"And here I was feeling sorry for you."
David tenses, at that, but he hides it well enough that you wouldn't have caught it if it didn't make a wave.
"Nothing serious, I've just been thinking."
"Scary thought."
"You're hilarious," he says dejectedly.
"I'm kidding," you give him a quick pat on the back, "Seriously, how can I help?"
He looks to you and his arms fall to his side. He takes a breath only turn away.
"You can't. I just need some time to think."
You hold back a wince. It's the answer you expected, David will be David. Even so it still hurts.
"You sure?" you press.
He nods, "Yeah, but if I need to hear any of your speeches, I'll be sure to call you."
And with that, any sympathy you could've had for the man dies.
"Feeling the love Eidolon, feeling the love."
"Better than feeling a rocket hit your face."
You clench a fist, "One-"
But with a flash of silver, he's gone leaving you alone in the sky. Good lord that man is infuriating sometimes. Though, you could've offered for another spar. Haven't done one of those since you first met, might be good for him. Anyway, you see the top of your visor you're still receiving something.
Are your coms still muted?
You click the side of your mask- "fter that he's got one more talk in DC. That enough for you?"
"Um… Char-Hero?"
"Yeah Atlas?"
"I'm going to be honest with you. I didn't hear a thing you just said."
"..."
"Charles?"
You check the com, it's still going, he's just not saying anything.
"...Did David-"
"Don't know he just left."
There's a sound of something hitting something else. You hope it isn't Charles' head, but you can't be too sure.
"I'm going to take a longer break."
"You do that Charles."
"Yeah, see you around," he says and the com clicks dead.
Well, that was a thing. Kind of sad, but Charles can take care of himself. For now, you've got time to burn. David gave you the rest of the shift, speaking of which, what time is it? Visor says it's barely past two. You smile at the odds. It's walk time. At least, so long as you don't mess up the tea.
Okay, flyings good, but having a Door do the flying for you is cool too. Saves travel time, giving you plenty of time to get in a shower and a quick change of clothes. After that, it's a quick elevator trip down to the cafeteria and a few minutes for the water to boil and at the end of it all, give you enough time to look through the absurd number of options.
Like, come on, how many tea flavours could there possibly be? You remember Danah loving whatever crazy flavor of coffee that came out, but this is ridiculous. You take the one labeled Honey Lemon and throw it into the steaming teapot. Despite yourself, you look in to watch the bag turn the water yellow, pushing in the packet and stirring it to speed things up.
Not because you're bored, you want to make sure you're doing this right.
And hopefully, this is the right color. You remember she likes it a darker color, but not too dark. Cross your fingers. Taking out the bag, you carefully grab a cup and head out. One elevator ride later, you're back to walking through the halls towards your room.
Only to stop and knock on the door right before it.
"It's open."
Without a word, you push the door open with your back, nearly tripping over a textbook. Must be a hard day, Rebecca usually keeps things tidy. Stepping inside, your friend's room had changed since London. Every inch of wall held some diagram or set of numbers along with reports of parahuman sightings or Matthew's relief stations. Now her desk took up the entire length of the wall, stacks upon stacks of papers neatly laid out for a moments notice. Even so, Rebecca's leaning hard on one of her hands.
Though, that doesn't immediately stick out to you. What does is the fact that her bed isn't made, you've got to tiptoe around another book, and at the tail end of her desk is another tea kettle. You frown, will a wave inside the pot, and make the tea inside slosh around.
You try not to look too out of it asking, "Everything going okay?"
Rebecca flinches, and you barely stop the shudder that runs through you. She turns, a smile on her face but the bags under her eyes ruin the image.
"No," she sighs, kneading her temple.
At least she isn't playing, one good sign at least.
"Headache?" you guess even if it's obvious.
"I can't get headaches," Rebecca growls, "This is stress."
"Then it's a good thing I brought this then."
You put down the tea kettle and pour her a cup, and her face flushes with relief.
"You're a lifesaver," she says.
"So nothing's changed?"
She rolls her eyes and flashes a smirk before taking a long sip.
And by sip you mean drain the entire cup in one go. Second she's done she gasp for air, and you whistle.
"That bad?"
"That's one word for it," Rebecca mutters, handing back the cup.
You take it, refill and hand it right back.
"What's a better word then?" you ask, "Screwed?"
"I was going to side with doomed," Rebecca says.
She purses her lips, stopping a yawn that you know wants to get out.
"Hey, David and I are trying our best here," you say.
"And I can't thank you enough, but the numbers don't lie."
She hands you a sheet from the top of the closest pile. A bunch of diagrams and percentiles stick out, and you have no idea what any of this means.
"Okay… what am I looking at?"
Rebecca takes a hit of her tea before turning around. You get comfortable on the bed, no other chair here for you to use anyway.
"The results of the physiological reports." Rebecca says, "I've checked, double checked, no matter how you look at it they all say the same thing. Triggers Events are going to produce far more villains than heroes, and even with Doctor Mother giving out formulas, we're going to be outnumbered hard."
"How hard we talking?"
"Even if everything goes according to plan, best we can hope for is one to five."
You blanch, then you frown, "Wait, isn't that the whole point of making a worldwide team?"
"Yes but…", Rebecca stops her eyes drifting over the papers and with every second her brow furrows ever further. Her knuckles strain against the desk, keeping her up and dragging out her frustration.
"There's more to it than that, and I can find the answer if I just concentrate."
"Doesn't seem like it's helping you that much."
Rebecca rubs the sleep out of her eyes, "Doesn't matter."
"I feel like it does," you argue, kicking off the bed.
Rebecca pushes her hair back so you can see the joking disbelief on her face.
"You do this all the time."
"Yeah, and I'm not worth it," you say.
Second the words are out of your mouth the tiredness seemingly vanishes from her face. Rebecca all but explodes out of her chair pointing an accusing finger at you.
"Don't you dare say that. Don't even think that."
"What else am I supposed to think?" you ask, throwing your hands in the air.
"Nothing, I'm just busy."
"Yeah," you interrupt, "Way to busy and it's my fault."
"No," Rebecca warns, "We agreed to this plan, don't blame yourself."
"Plan's fine," you say, "Whatever…" you gesture at her "This is, isn't."
Rebecca glances down pursing her lips, and shoulder slumping.
"Fine, I'll slow down."
"Good start, not what I was going for."
"Then what were you going for?" Rebecca demands.
Whatever intimidation factor is lost on you because this is probably the closest thing she comes to pouting. She looks more ready to call you an idiot than threaten you with anything huge.
"Well," you say scratching your chin, "Whenever anything got to me, I took a walk. And I get the feeling that a little walk down the hall isn't going to cut it for you."
Without another word, you step out the window, summoning your waves to keep you afloat. Sticking your head back in, you gesture outside.
"So, wanna walk? Get some air?"
She stood there, flabbergasted. There's got to be a hundred different arguments that she could bring up that would make you come back in and let her do her work. You can't think of them, and you're hoping she doesn't want to think about them.
So you wait, you hold out your hand, and smile like an idiot.
And in response, your best friend smiles a smile that puts the sun to shame. She gingerly she takes your hand, her eyes flashing with concern. Oh, she's worried you might get hurt, well enough of that. Willing a few more behind her, you pull her out into the open and drop like a rock. Rebecca screams something, but it's drowned out with the roar of the wind in your ears.
You wink at her, surrounding yourself in gold as waves explode to life around you. A second later, you're rocketing over the open ocean. Waves flicker in and out as they stop the wind from breaking through, letting you glance back to see a quickly approaching black blur. You put your hands behind your head and keep flying like you're just enjoying the ride. Rebecca comes up right behind you. She spreads out her arms like she's flying with wings, the wind blowing through her hair she glows without waves.
Rebecca catches you staring, and you see a wicked glint in her eye. She gestures to slow down, and you peel off the waves until you do. Eventually, the two of you come to a stop.
"Thanks," she says.
"Anytime."
Rebecca's eyes glint again, but this one is different. Something you can't place.
"I'll keep that in mind."
The two of you float there not saying a word. Don't know about her you've got no clue what to say, Rebecca's the smart one. She coughs and points back the direction you came.
"We should probably get back."
"Oh, right," you agree.
Forming more waves behind you, you follow Rebecca and her subsonic trail back to the little island that Cauldron calls home. Getting up to the window, Rebecca jumps in and goes back to her desk. You, on the other hand, grab the old teapot.
"Thanks," she calls.
Looking down at her piles of paper, she's lost in thought yet again. Walking out, you force the waves to pick up the books and papers on the floor, setting them on the bed for safe keeping. Once you're out, you head to the elevator and click the open button. The door hisses open, and it seems you're going to have company riding down.
He hasn't grown in the two months, but he's changed his outfit. The big cloak is gone, along with the mask and in its place a small brown suit and a set of thick-rimmed glasses.
Harbinger, no, Number Man, gestures to next to him. Heading in, he sees the teapot in your hands.
"Are you busy?"
"Just taking this downstairs," you say, holding up the pot.
"So no?"
You frown, and Number Man doesn't even bat an eye pressing the button to his office. The elevator slides down a few floors before coming to a stop and hissing open.
Number Man's office if you could call it that is strange. That word gets thrown around, but his room takes the cake for being so ordinary yet so stupidly weird. Because when you think of office space, you think of a few desks maybe a computer here or there. What you don't expect is three wall length desks, dozens of computers on top of them that are connected to freaking portals to other earths!?!
Kid got started making his little room barely a day after you returned from London. Number man had a laundry list of things that he wanted from Cauldron so he could, in his own words, work at optimal efficiency. The first time you've seen Doctor Mother agree to something without a fuss.
Which, for the record, still doesn't make sense to you.
Even less sense to you stopping by his little office every once and awhile. Strange didn't even come close, but you've got to hand it to the kid, he knows what he's doing. However, despite how good he might be with numbers there's one thing that still doesn't sit right with you.
"Still no chairs I see."
Number Man shoots you a look as he heads over to one of his computers.
"They are a hindrance," he says, "If my office is attacked, being in a chair would lose me precious seconds in a fight. Seconds that could be used to dodge away from gunfire, or even the occasional brute trying to bullrush me."
"Would do wonders for your back in the meantime," you say, putting the teapot on the corner of one desk.
"I'll adjust the desks accordingly if that helps you."
"What about chairs for guests?" you shoot back.
He looks at you, and you swear he's trying to hold back a grin.
"Getting tired leaning against the wall already?"
"I'm just saying, it'd be more comfortable," you say, shifting your back against the wall.
"You didn't answer my question," he complains, face flat.
"Welcome to my world," you say, "Anyway, what do you need?"
Number Man jerks his head towards the computer he's working on. You make your way over as his hands fly over the keyboard.
"I was going through radio chatter, most of it standard fare. However, there are several that caught my interest. I can do any of these on my own, but you've proved reliable for this type of job before and I would… appreciate the help."
He brings up several pictures on the screen, and the first thing that pops out to you is…
[] A murder in Chicago, according to this, the victim was cut up with a sword?
[] A news clipping about a string of disappearances in Washington.
[] A banner depicting what looked to be a recruitment drive in Brockton Bay.
