Masks: A New Generation of Heroes

Game Master Cwethan

Bronwyn leaves the locker room for 1st period with a big smile on her face. Ha! That's three practices in a row! And if I don't have evil to thwart this afternoon, I'll actually get to work on the field half. I can't go all out on distance, but there's no reason to skimp on training myself for precision with the javelin.

World History's one of Bronwyn's favorite subjects, but its never been one that came easily. She always loved her heroes and villains, blemishes and hypocrisies intact. She knew that the grand sweep of history wasn't really about the stories of great women and men; she knew that themes and morals were things that people put on after the fact to justify how they felt, but that still wasn't how she lived it.

Maybe it was the way Mary-Beth always seemed to make the past come alive. She practically slept her way through history every week, but still was able to talk about all the moments, the big ones and the little ones in such vivid detail. She captured the thoughts, hopes and dreams of people who'd been dead for centuries, and she had such an infectious certainty, even if she'd later claim that no one could really be sure.

So of course Bronwyn learned the dates, she learned the truths behind the great figures of history, but she also learned the ways that you could do good and evil in the world. The way a person could make a difference all by themselves.

How to be a hero.

===================================================
Taco Tuesday was over, so Bronwyn returned to this week's make-ahead and dutifully munched on her chicken salad sandwich. Yep, definitely switching to tuna next week.

As Shayera walks up Bronwyn still has her mouth full, so she doesn't do more than nod an enthusiastic greeting at first.

Aww, I miss volleyball. When you're in Athletics instead of P.E. you don't get to rotate through all the different sports - it's the one downside. She thinks for a moment, Hey had you played volleyball before? Since you were home-schooled?

Shayera shakes her head. "No, today was my first time. Took a ball to the head and everything. But I'm good."

She goes back to eating quietly and absorbing the conversation between the Bronwyn and her friends. Her secret was now shared between her and Bronwyn, and she now knows... what, exactly, about her? That Bronwyn can occasionally contact a spear-wielding warrior and ask him to ride a subway watching a girl go home from her first day of school.

Her mouth twists a bit when she glances up from her plate at Bronwyn who's making playful banter with her boyfriend. She shrugs, deciding that the next time she sees Bran she'll see what he'll tell her.

The idea energizes her, so when she finishes lunch, she casually announces to Bronwyn, "Well, I've about had it with the sky rail. Nearly made me late this morning. I'm going to use the subway and see how that goes. Plus there's the chance I'll run into some old friends." She smirks at the track star, then heads to her next class.

Bronwyn nods to Shayera, looking her levelly in the eye, All kinds of interesting people take the subway.

Then to deflect the group's attention from her cryptic comment, she laughs, So make sure not to step in any puddles!

Well, I guess I'm not making the after-school practice after all. Though if last time is any indication I'll still get practice with a spear.

Okay, I don't know if she'll want to meet Bran in something approaching civvies, so I should leave that open. She doesn't seem too concerned about her identity, but it's only fair to leave her the choice. I could try to blank my scent, and go without transforming but then if she sees me that would be bad and I'm stuck with only my armor after I transform unless I want to ask for a break to change.

Ugh! I'll just have to go in civvies and hope that if she wants to patrol or train or something she can give me time to put on my armor.

Bran's version of civvies is still fairly obtrusive. He boards the subway in a navy blue sweatshirt and dark grey sweats, carrying a large duffel bag that he tries to keep from clinking too much. Gae-Dearg has been shrunk down and affixed to a torc he wears around his forearm. He fairly reeks of Axe body spray, which when added to the sheer size of him means that he ends up with a row of seats all to himself.

This is so much easier when I can just show up, save the day, and vanish into the shadows.

She seemed more comfortable today. More distant than I was expecting though - Though who can blame her? God! I can't believe I did that, at least she's still talking to me! I wonder what she wants from me, from Bran-me I mean.

Pierce the Mask: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (4, 3) + 3 = 10 I'd like answers to "What do you intend to do?"
"How could I get your character to let Bronwyn keep her secret, for now?"
"What do you want me to do?"

Shayera's afternoon was interrupted by a mandatory trip to the school nurse because of her earlier encounter with a volleyball. She sat in the office thinking black thoughts until her "gifted" status showed up on someone's computer and she was finally allowed to return to class.

After the final bell, she stayed a bit longer to get a copy of another classmate's notes of what she missed, then jogged to the rail station a full fifteen minutes behind. Her senses were immediately drawn to a large man reeking of cologne sitting on a bench by himself.

"Less is more, guy," she says when she walks up, trying to keep her eyes from watering. "Okay, I'm sorry for the joke about your shampoo. You're plenty manly." She fans the air in front of her face.

"But, you're not wearing your armor, which is nice. Now we're only slightly less conspicuous," she says with a smile that shows it doesn't bother her. "But with your body-spray overpowering my senses, I don't know if I'm going to be able to pick up anyone who may have it out for a tiny half-asian girl and a giant cro-mag. Maybe we should ride in separate cars."

She turns her back to Bran and starts walking to the yellow line. She pulls out her cell phone and holds it up to her ear, surreptitiously turning on her earbud. "Do this, and no one will think you're strange for talking. I'm hoping to pick up on the trail of the Busted Flushes that got away last time. It's kind of a long shot, but there's also the chance that they've got people casing the rail cars keeping an eye out for us. That's why I'm not too worried about not going incognito. If they see us, they'll get nervous. Nervous people make mistakes."

Wingblade's intentions seem genuine -- go after the Flushes. She wants him to follow along to show her what he can do. And he could probably just ask her direct to leave her alone.

Bran's skin is paler than Bronwyn's which allows him to blush quite intensely about his aroma. As Shayera walks to the next car over, he shakes his head ruefully, She always seems to put me off-balance.

Since he doesn't have a cellphone, Bran is forced to be content with muttering to Wingblade as discretely as possible.
They would be fools to come here so soon for anything other than revenge. If they are here, I would guess that they want to find us.

A short while later, Bran is very carefully studying a pair of toughs whose tattoos playing cards? aren't quiite visible.

Wingblade, I believe I have something- He coughs, a foul odor tickling at his nostrils. I am moving to confirm my suspicions

Bran stands, hefting his duffel bag of armor as he rises to his full height, and walks over to the two Flushes.

They blanch as he towers over them. Today is not the day. Run along.

At the next step they get off the train, practically running as they start warning others.

Wingblade, I have flushed out some of our quarry. Would you care to track them back to somewhere with fewer civilians to get caught in the crossfire? It seems they were in fact fools.

Once more a whiff of something terrible strikes him, and he looks around, but can't quite place the stench.

But be careful in case they are not.

Wingblade sat in the neighboring trail car, feeling a little guilty for not staying with Bran. But she really had little choice if she wanted to earnestly search for the Busted Flushes. His body spray was overwhelming, and Whippoorwill had chided her just last night about not using her enhanced senses properly. It was true in a way; when she had first found Wingblade, she was almost animalistic. Every stray sound and new scent would cause her to go on alert. But in her slow turn toward humanity, she'd been drawing on her senses less and less, fighting against her instinct to go on alert at any moment. Whippoorwill's implications that she was distracted was more or less true.

That's why last night she decided to put her senses back to work, and see if she could locate the Flushes that got away. The hope was that the Flushes had rabbited, and she could pick up their scent and learn where they'd gone. The danger was that the Flushes were waiting for them and had set a trap.

The rail car that had seen the most action had been swapped out for repairs, but the line was back and running like nothing had happened.
It had been 48 hours since their fight, but it had been inside the subway tunnel. Considering how much she had bled, there should be traces she could still detect, but only at the spot where they ran.

Wingblade settles in a seat and lets her ears and nose work while she simultaneously glances around the cabin at the occupants. Certain that no one in her section of the train was a Flush from before, she gets up and moves to the next car.

She opens up the door and is slammed with a reek that makes her long for Bran's body wash. At her arrival a few eyes glance up from cell phones. She notices that one of the phones is not on, and then spots a playing card tattoo on that passenger's skin. She takes one more step inside when Bran tells her he's found someone in his car.

Her heart sinks when she hears that he's going to confirm, and she brings her phone up to her ear just as the Flush in her car looks directly at her. She turns away, keeping her phone up against her ear to throw off her profile.

She hears through the earbud that Bran made contact. She grinds her teeth just as she becomes aware of the Flush standing up. They both have to grab a hold of a safety bar as the train begins decelerating.

The awful stink blocks out most of her scent, but Wingblade's eyes confirm that the Flush in her car is Ten of Hearts again. She meets her eyes. "Hello, 'She-Ra,'" she begins, quickly reaching into a bag and pulling out a round mechanical device.

The train stops and the doors open, just as another passenger notices the object in Ten's hand. "Bomb!" someone screams, which is then joined by others suddenly pushing past Wingblade to get to the exit. Through the panicked shouts of the fleeing commuters, Wingblade hears Bran say he flushed out his quarry.

"No, don't! It's a--" Wingblade is cut off when the woman activates the device and throws it against the opposite wall, where it sticks fast. Suddenly, Wingblade's phone and earbud are yanked from her possession and she feels a strong pull in her chest. She flies backward and slams against the device. She sees small pieces of metal fly at her, bars bending in her direction, and the opposite wall of the train warp and pull closer.

"--magnet."

Condition(s): None

A custom communication device was pretty common for superhero teams to have, whether it be radios, video phones, or some other such thing. The Team itself used an earpiece and earbud combo created by Whetstone. Simple in design, these combo devices had a small battery and a dial that could be switched to different channels, allowing for private conversations or a team-wide broadcast. They also had a unique feature. If the earpiece was ever forcibly removed, it would seperate from the earbud and send out a distress signal.

Alexis and Atoms were in the middle of walking home when the distress signal hit Atoms' earpiece. Wasting no time in explaining the beeping noise to a stunned Alexis, Atoms quickly dials Matrix on his Defender communicator.

"Who?", asks Atoms, audibly.

Matrix begins to vibrate a response, "Wing–".

It's all she manages to get out before Atoms rockets across Halcyon City at warp one, light speed. Vibrating his molecules, he phases through the wall of The Clocktower and lands inside. Moving at normal speed, he looks around for any sign of his teammate. Nothing. She isn't here.

"–blade", finishes Matrix.

"WHERE?", demands Atoms, again asking audibly.

"S–"

"School!" Atoms takes off once more, pushing the speed limit of the universe. A couple days ago, he had overheard from Whippoorwill at Defender HQ that Wingblade was to start attending Halcyon High. Several times since then he had gone out of his way to try and find her around school, but he never found her. He even tried asking the students about Wingblade and Hashtag (Vick also attends Halcyon High), but everyone he asked said that they've never seen them around the school. Atoms figured his teammates attended classes at a different time of day than himself.

In an instant, Atoms is at Halcyon High, this time performing his search at sublight speed–checking every classroom, closet, any possibility. To the naked, human eye, he's nigh-invisible; a blur, a flash, a sudden rush of wind; his presence only detectable by the papers and other small, loose objects tossed by his wake. However, this speed is all for naught, as Wingblade isn't here either. Not even Hashtag is present.

Resisting the urge to jet away again, Atoms stays put for a second to allow the rest of the message to come through. He's anxious though. Atoms isn't about to let one of his teammates get abducted again, and he certainly ISN'T about let another North Star happen. No. Ever since that happened, he had devoted himself to being faster, more powerful. With his protection, no one he cared about would get hurt ever again.

"–ubway."

Matrix begins to say more in order to give Atoms more direction, but this was all he needed to go on. If Wingblade flew in a direct line to/from the Clocktower to/from Halcyon High, there were several SUBWAY® restaurants along the route where she could've ran into some trouble, either stopping at a bad time to eat or to investigate an existing disturbance. Regardless of why she stopped though, Atoms just hoped that Wingblade would be at the first SUBWAY® he looked. But fate was not kind to Atoms. Soaring through Halcyon City, on his way to the nearest SUBWAY®, he would be forced to make a choice.

About halfway to his destination, Atoms spots a couple of people running out of one of the Halcyon City Metro stations. He couldn't blame them, the tube was fast and inexpensive, but it was also dirty, smelly, and crime-ridden; every Halcyonite knew that the new SkyRail system was way better, despite costing more and being a bit overcrowded and slow. Atoms might've not given it much thought, except... It wasn't just a couple people, more and more continued to run out from the station, and some of them were yelling about a "bomb". Faced with the decision of either continuing to pursue Wingblade or stopping to help, Atoms knew that he couldn't ignore a bomb threat.

Gritting his teeth, both infuriated at the delay and not about to attempt phasing through feet of road and rock, Atoms flies down the entrance and into the metro tunnel. Immediately he feels a weak force acting on his particles, creating a sort of strange buzzing sensation through his body. Ignoring it, but recognizing that it might be coming from whatever threat the people were running away from, Atoms heads further down and further in. With each passing moment, the feeling grows stronger as he gets closer, until eventually he comes upon a train stopped at a platform.
Without thought, Atoms dives right in.

________________________________________________

Inside the train car, metal continues to warp under the strain of the electromagnet. Unable to handle any more pressure, one of the bars breaks in half, sending a sharp foot-long fragment like a bullet towards the girl trapped against the wall. Just as it seems the fragment would pierce the girl's heart, Atoms appears out of nowhere, intercepting the would-be bullet. It harmlessly impales his chest and disintegrates a second after, leaving an inch-wide hole in his suit that soon repairs itself. Atoms is angry; the girl against the wall is the spitting image of Wingblade, sans wings, reminding him of what he might lose if he doesn't end this quickly.

"You picked a horrible day to be a terrorist." Atoms steps forward, squaring up with Ten of Hearts, hands blazing with a blue glow "Turn off your device, before I turn you into ash."

An awful clanging sound erupts from one of the cars behind Bran and he whirls to see people streaming out of a crumpling train car.

Shayera? Wingblade? Are you all right?

There's a squeal in his earbud as he tries to contact her. Whatever's doing that must be interfering with our comms.

He begins rushing through the crowd feeling like a salmon trying to fight its way upstream, trying not to hurt anyone, but jostling several people quite roughly before he reaches the car, strange glows and smells of ozone emanating from the car.

The doors are already too warped to open properly so he shoulder charges into them, knocking them free, but looks on in horror as they and his bag of armor fly across the car to slam into the wall, one jagged edge of a door landing only inches from Wingblade, the other disintegrating against a sinister blue figure facing off against one of the Flushes, who is barely keeping from giggling despite the obvious power of her foe.

Okay: step one, hope blue-bolt there is friendly; step two, free Shayera!

Bran reaches just inside his sleeve for Gae-Dearg, keeping a tight hold of the tiny charm before it suddenly expands to its true size.

The metal objects right near the spear stop crumpling and flying away, But the rest of the magnetic field doesn't seem to be weakening!

Bran thrusts his spear into the wall near Wingblade, hopefully freeing her from her magnetic imprisonment before bracing himself as best he can against the shifting wall and straining to keep the whole car from collapsing in on itself!

Wingblade, get moving! I will do what I can to keep the train intact!

Once more a terrible stench fills his nostrils, but this time he can pinpoint it. It's coming from Ten of Hearts, as does a deep rasping voice clearly not her own that replaces her increasingly mad laughter.

A terrorist? Is that what you think I am? No, boy. I am Terror; I am Death. I am Balor.

Her mouth makes only the barest pretense of shaping the words that echo forth from it, and a spot of ugly red light begins to shine from her forehead.

Do you like this host, Bran? It has been so long since we fought, I was worried you might not recognize me. But then, you have always had an Eye for such things.

Bran looks up at whatever has hold of Ten of Hearts with confusion and controlled fear written across his broad face, but before he can retort, Balor strikes.

And now that dreadful spear is out of the way.

The shining point of light on Ten of Hearts's forehead opens up into a terrible third eye that blasts Bran into the next train car with a scarlet bolt. However, its true effect is more insidious.

As the ugly red light fills the area. Everything slowly begins to wither. Softer materials like the cheap upholstery of the train's seats, or the cotton of Bran's hoodie begin to fray and tear almost instantly while the exposed metal at the many fractures within the train car are much slower to discolor and oxidize. Bran's flesh too begins to redden, taking on the ugly swollen look of an infected wound, purpling with decay directly where the Eye struck him.

Despite this, Ten of Hearts sighs, looking almost petulant. What a shame. She's ruthless, she already has followers, and she has a nice streak of cruelty, but if you're still breathing, then clearly I shall need to find a more suitable vessel. One that can contain the full power of My Eye.

Well, this is embarrassing, Wingblade thinks when she realizes her harness is now stuck onto some sort of super-powered magnet. She idly thinks about switching it off, but with her back pressed against the wall she didn't like the thought of her wings de-phasing back inside a metal subway car.

The power of the device continued to pull at the metal in the vicinity, causing the train to collapse in on itself. She kicks and strains at the magnet, but can't get it to budge or release its grip. Suddenly a crash near her turns her head away from Ten of Hearts, and a large duffel bag hurtles at her. Good thing that the guy didn't wear his armor, or it'd be him flying at me, she thinks.

Then a bar snaps and flies right at her. It was perfect: sharp, long, and aimed right at her heart. Her arm started to move, to snatch the bar out of the air and use it to stab at the device. Then her vision is blocked by a containment suit.

No, this isn't embarrassing. This is mortifying. Atoms was here to save her once more.

Her means of freedom incinerated, she kicks helplessly all the while scarcely believing that she, Wingblade, protege to Whippoorwill, was getting saved from the Busted Flush Mob.

He should have just let the bar kill me.

Then it got weird.

Bran shows up trying to free her from the device, but is interrupted by Ten of Hearts laughing, which is psychotic considering she was facing an extremely pissed off Atoms. But she opens a third eye and that stink from earlier intensifies.

Wingblade is able to surmise that Ten of Hearts may not be herself. She starts talking with Bran like they know each other, then she blasts him into the next car with some sort of beam from her face.

Wingblade wasn't hit with the energy directly, but she felt it anyway. Lesions begin to appear on her skin, but are quickly healed just as more appear. It was extremely unpleasant. She thrashes from her spot pinned against the wall and bites back a scream.

In her wild movements, she notices Bran's duffel bag pressed against her shoulder. Fighting through the pain, she reaches in and gropes blindly for anything that she could use. Eventually, her fingers close around something.

"Hey! You stink!" she shouts at Ten to draw her attention and get her to look Wingblade's way.

And then she sprays her directly in the third eye with a can of Axe body spray.

Finally, that crap is good for something!

Ten cries out, her voice overlapping with Balor's Eeeuuughh! You dare?!
You dare attempt to poison Balor the Virulent, Balor the Walking Death?! Well then, perhaps this one can stand a little more of My Power!

The light of Balor's eye intensifies, fixed on Wingblade, drawing in more and more power until a crimson afterimage is hulking above Ten's body, crumbling the roof above it into rusted detritus, even as her cheeks hollow and her own eyes take on a fevered sheen.

In the next car over, Bran staggers to his feet, swaying as he moves back towards the fray, trying hard not to think about whether being hurt like this will carry over when he changes back.

I can block it, block him, if I can just get to my spear!

Condition(s): None

Despite all the anger and intimidating posturing, Atoms could barely pay attention to what was going on around him. The buzzing throughout his body, which he experienced earlier as he closed in, was now almost unbearable. It emanated from the device that was trapping the girl and hurling things at her. Whatever it was, being this close was painful. A sensation he hadn't felt since his first run-in with The Givers.

However, even with his wavering focus, he has no trouble picking up a familiar name in all the chaos, "Wingblade". Atoms glances back at the girl, and a new arrival with a spear. The man was likely a friend of The Defenders or Whippoorwill, but if this girl was truly Wingblade... Then what happened to her wings? Was it one of Hashtag's illusions, or something more? Atoms can't help but stop and begin to process through how this could be.

"No! I can't let myself be distracted."

Atoms recenters himself on the foe ahead of him, just in time to hear Ten of Hearts' words and witness the start of the strange, red light. He's taken surprise by her sudden attack, her blast streaking past Atoms and impacting the man behind him. In that very instant, the area is bathed in that same strange light, eating away at the passenger car, and nibbling at Atoms' Theta Suit, causing brief flashes of his glowing blue flesh to appear as the regenerative properties of the armor struggle to keep up with both the decay and the effect of his untouchable skin. Even the ragged ends of his black hood begin to fray and break.

Atoms' mind races for options. Just then, however, Wingblade sprays something into the demon's eye, but this desperate maneuver only serves to enrage it. The demon, "Balor", turns to Wingblade and intensifies its ruining light upon her. Naturally, Atoms moves to intercept this new attack, holding out his arm across Wingblade to block it. No one could've forseen what would happen next.

In a blink of an eye, a portion of Atoms' suit burns away under the intense light, exposing his full arm. For a moment, the light falls upon the exposed arm, and in the next, it's gone. Not the light, but the arm, torn apart; a feeling that Atoms was well-acquainted with. It hurts.

It hurts.

His arm practically 'unravels', before bursting into what almost appears to be a hundred blue fireflies, fluttering off into different directions. Grimacing in silent agony, Atoms fires a beam of quantum waves from his remaining arm, straight into Balor's face. Meanwhile, the Theta Suit regenerates, closing the hole where his missing limb used to be.

The quantum waves catch the light, pushing against it. It forces Balor to counter it, lest the powerful beam hit and gravely injure even his true form. In an instant, the red light that once covered the entire area is now solely focused against Atoms' attack. They clash in-between the demon and the hero, the red and blue stalemating as they intermix and form a roiling, purple ball of energy. Awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Totally focused on one another, an opening is created.

Bran lurches back into the train car, his hoodie falling off him in tatters after Balor's deadly blast.

His strides are long but unsteady as he works his way back towards Wingblade and Gae-Dearg. He jerks a thumb towards Atoms, and blearily asks, Friend of yours? as he plucks his spear back from the wall.
We are really hard on trains.

I can't just stab Gae-Dearg into the middle of this. It looks like the blue guy is made of some kind of energy, who knows what I would do to him. And I can't just stab Ten of Hearts. Sure she's a criminal, but there's gotta be a better way to stop "Balor" than killing her. And I'd have to go through all that to reach her anyways.

Bran watches the interplay of energies, roiling and tearing at one another as the crush of energies begins to expand. Well whatever I do, I've got to do it before something else explodes.

The clash of energy is almost like a wall, But if you can't break down a wall, go around.
Bran winds up and smashes clean through the side of the train car where Balor's decay has weakened it most, getting room for a running start to bust back in behind Balor.

He hurdles through a window that had remarkably remained intact and in one smooth motion hurls Gae-Dearg just above Ten of Heart's head, passing through the aura that had begun to surround her, narrowly shy of flying into the conflux of Atoms' energy.

The effect is immediate.

Ten of Hearts drops to the ground like a puppet with her strings cut as with a pulse of nausea, Balor and his eye's energies vanish.

Bran all but collapses as he sits heavily on the ground, idly plucking shards of glass and metal from his unpleasantly... ripe chest.

I do not think he was truly vanquished. But he was vulnerable, exposed while his power overflowed from his vessel, so he fled. If he should deceive one more suitable, I fear he will not be so easily dispatched.

That sounds right at least, but I should check with Mary-Beth later. I guess I'm not the only ancient Celt walking around.

He shakes his head heavily to clear it and focuses his slightly blurred vision on Atoms. I thank you for coming to our aid. I am Bran the Blessed.

Drawing Ten's attention may have been a mistake, Wingblade was able to think before she took the full brunt of the possessed woman's strange blast of decay.

Her clothes withered away and the circuitry of her harness tarnished and faded. Her skin, however, endured much worse as it bubbled and blackened and large, angry gashes opened up across her body. Screaming was an afterthought and the pain was apocalyptic. Somehow, possibly through the demon's own malevolence, she heard the message that her own healing ability was prolonging her agony.

Then a shadow passes over her and somehow the entropic force lessens. Her eyes focus and she sees electric blue butterflies cris-cross her vision.

She pulls away, the degeneration field diminishing even the supermagnet locking her in place against the wall. Wingblade falls to the ground, unable to take advantage of her freedom. She pushes herself up and manages to catch sight of Bran stabbing the sickeningly red beam of desecration emanating from Ten of Hearts.

The energy fades instantly, allowing her healing factor to stitch her ravaged skin together. She staggers to her feet, looking back and forth between Atoms and Bran. "That... sucked."

Bran holds Wingblade's gaze levelly as he nods.

Some of the first villains I battled in this city claimed they were trying to bring forth Balor. I had thought them mad, but clearly they were harbingers of something far worse.

With visible effort he turns to Ten of Hearts. She's still breathing. Hopefully she has not been too ill-used. Even if she did seek this power out, she cannot have understood the true cost.

Condition(s): None

Balor was defeated. Able to rest, and needing it for the first time in years, Atoms disperses his quantum waves and takes a seat on a mostly decayed bench. Only a teethed mouth is visible on his mostly blank and metallic helmet/mask, and its contorted into a pained grimace.

"Nice to meet you, Bran. I'm Atoms," says Atoms in a low growl. "Hope you understand if I don't shake your hand."

Glancing over at Wingblade, Atoms rises from his seat, his cloak shifting as he does so (which is surprisingly intact), revealing the empty space on his body where his right arm used to be. In one not-so-smooth motion, he tugs at his cloak to remove it and tosses it around Wingblade for her to wear. Then, when her wounds heal, Atoms touches her shoulder and transfer his Theta Suit onto her, which forms over her clothes and covers all of her body, neck, and part of her head (minimal, just enough to put its built-in communicators at her ear).

"Your clothes are hanging on by threads. Wear this until you get home. You can give it back to me later." With his suit off, the light of Atoms' blue form fills the subway. "Your communicator is probably fried, so you can use mine. They're built-in at the ears; left for The Team, right for The Defenders." His tone is normal, if not slightly stressed and tired, and his exposed, true face is obviously still wincing from pain.

Will you be alright, Atoms? Clearly your form is not a mortal one, but to lose an arm is a grievous wound nonetheless.

Speaking of which, do I need to go to the hospital? I know I'm tough, but, he gingerly prods the putrefied flesh on his chest, this seems serious. Will this still be there if I change back? I've never been this hurt before...

Wingblade stifles a protest when Atoms gives her his Theta Suit, but she still scowls and tests its range of movement. The threat gone, she had no need to deploy her wings, though she still wanted the weight of them on her back.

"Thanks," she says grudgingly. Then the bitterness of being saved fades when she realizes how deadly Balor really was and that without Atoms showing up the fight might have gone very differently. She looks at Bran's ravaged skin and Atoms' missing arm and a pang of guilt hits her. She's already almost better; how long will it take them to recover?

"You guys gonna be okay?"

Good thing my face is red from Balor's blast, or they'd know I was blushing. I don't know how she's so nonchalant about that kind of thing. I want to cover up now even as Bran!

I believe so. He tries to stand, but doesn't quite succeed. With a wry smile he asks, But for the sake of argument, if I were injured beyond my abilities to disregard, where would we go?

Wingblade bites her lip uneasily when Bran mentions needing outside healing. He tried to show bravado, but it looked like he wasn't sure that he'd heal quickly. She reaches up and fumbles with the right communicator. "Code Med-1, Matrix," she says. "We also need containment -- AMT."

Then she turns to Bran. "Aerial vehicle will be arriving shortly to lift you to a medical bay. Mystic containment unit will collect Ten of Hearts here."

She glares at Atoms. "Okay, how does this suit work? I want my wings back now. I don't care about my clothes."

Condition(s): None

Atoms doesn't answer the questions of whether he's going to be 'okay', instead merely taking a good, long look at the stump where his arm used to be. He's... not sure how to feel about it. Should he be afraid? It hurt. It–it still hurt. And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that the buzzing sensation hasn't entirely gone away.

When Wingblade thinks of her wings, the Theta Suit changes to accommodate her, creating openings in the back for her wings to go through.

"That's how it works." Atoms motions towards the new opening. "It detects your thoughts. You want a change hard enough, and it does it for you." Noticing Wingblade's glare, he pauses for a moment, before arcing his brow and shifting a little. "..."

The suit opens a small access point on her torso and she reaches through it to hit the switch on her harness. Instantly, her wings are out and twitching agitatedly. But the rest of her calms visibly.

"Let's go outside," she suggests, and reaches for Bran's duffel bag. The straps disintegrate in her hand, so she gathers it up gingerly and follows Bran and Atoms outside.

Before long, one of Matrix's proxies arrives in a Medical Aerial Vehicle. A similar vehicle covered in arcane runes arrives to collect Ten of Hearts.

Wingblade drops the bundle of armor in the frayed bag on the floor of the MAV and then helps Bran get on board. "Atoms and me will follow you. Just hang tight."

She watches the vehicle rise into the air, leaving her and Atoms in the cordoned-off area around the subway entrance. She glances at him once, but doesn't meet his eyes for long -- or what he has that passes for eyes.

Dammit. I should thank him for showing up. She still felt embarrassed, since she knew she could take on Ten of Hearts, even with the stupid magnet pinning her to the wall. But whatever that Balor thing was that had possessed her, that changed everything. But she still bristled at the fact that Atoms came to her rescue again.

"So. Still listening to the old team's channel, huh? I'm not really sure why, there's not much of a team anymore. But, uh, yeah." Her voice caught, she again saw the young kid who wanted to be a police officer somewhere in the blue-white energy being. The kid who sacrificed himself for her. Words felt so utterly meaningless.

"We should follow Matrix and Bran back to the Defender HQ, huh?"

Once Bran is helped to his feet he is able to stay standing, though he can't help but sway slightly before retrieving Gae-Dearg, This should be an invaluable tool in the noble cause of remaining upright, he says with a wry twist to his mouth.

Bran limps into the MAV with whatever help is offered, and winces as his bag of armor clatters to the floor, Unh. I hope the armor held up better than my clothes. It took quite a while to make.

Thank you, Wingblade. I will see you soon.

Well, I always wanted to visit Defender HQ. I just hope I'll be able to find a private place to change back. Maybe... maybe that'll fix me?

Condition(s): None

"Why?" Atoms tilts his head at Wingblade. "Because I want to protect the people I care about."

Feeling a bit of tension between Wingblade and himself, Atoms rubs the back of his head. He knew what it was about; he had known for a while now. The only problem was how to make things better between them.

He looks up and smiles a little, "Want to race to H.Q.?"

Atoms was way faster than her, but he'd do his best to make it interesting. Maybe he'd even let her win. Maybe.

Wingblade arches an eyebrow, not sure if the energy being was joking about racing. At one point, she was the one who had to fly him around. Now Atoms could fly like it was nothing.

"Sure," she says, and launches herself into the air.

The subway car hadn't gotten as far as last time, so they weren't even in Rustside yet. She angles toward downtown Halcyon, staying low and using her maneuverability to zip around buildings and power lines rather than waste time and effort climbing higher into the air.

She pushes herself hard but not recklessly, deciding to enjoy the speed and thrill of the race rather than turn it into something that will frustrate her if Atoms beats her resoundingly.

She whips between the legs of a water tower and zig-zags around an apartment complex. She skims over treetops and dips below some buzzing high-tension wires until the buildings finally rise higher and higher around her. She banks hard and dives below an overpass and comes out hurtling just over the cars and trucks pouring into and out of the city in late afternoon traffic.

Still keeping low which requires her to dodge and weave through the buses and semis bumper to bumper in the streets, she jukes back and forth between the high-rises until she comes upon the Defenders' HQ in the center of the city. A skylight opens up on her arrival and she zips through with a quick snap of her wings. They quickly open up again to brake her rapid flight, flapping hard against her momentum. She lands hard on the marble floor of the atrium, grinning from the rush of speed.

"Matrix?" she calls out, slightly out of breath. "ETA on the MAV?"

"Six minutes," comes the metallic voice.

Condition(s): None

The race was on. Taking flight, Atoms follows closely behind Wingblade.

Their different means of propulsion made for an interesting contrast between their flying styles. Wingblade flew very organically, swooping and diving in a natural way. Atoms, on the other hand, flew like a missile. He didn't need to worry about wind or other such concerns that came with wing-based flight, and ever since he learned how to phase himself through objects, Atoms didn't even need to fly in anything other than a straight line. It would be easy to outpace Wingblade, and this was before factoring in that Atoms could fly at the speed of light.

Winning though, wasn't the point for Atoms. This was for her to feel better, and hopefully, for their relationship to improve. Flying ahead would've defeated the purpose. But of course, so would falling too far behind.

Atoms stays close, copying some of Wingblade's maneuvers. Occasionally, he would even increase his speed and pretend that he was about to pass her, encouraging Wingblade to fly even faster. She smiled from the rush, and Atoms, not really feeling anything from this low of speed–and still hurting from the loss of his arm–could at least smile at the fact that she was smiling. It was nice.

Eventually, they reach Defender HQ. Atoms lands shortly after Wingblade.

"You look like you needed that," remarks Atoms as he flies in, smiling at her.

Wingblade plants her hands on her hips as she watches Atoms descend from the ceiling. She toys with the idea of being affronted because he let her win, but she recognized he was trying to make her feel better. She squints one eye at him. "Maybe. Being cooped up in that school was a little stifling." She points an accusatory finger at him. "But remember: the body cologne was what really won the day. I'll expect to see that in your report."

She concentrates hard and wills the Theta suit off of her. "Here you go. You need this more than me." Completely unfazed by the remaining wisps of cloth that fall away rendering her completely nude except for the harness around her waist and back, she turns and walks over to the entrances to the showers adjacent to the meditation rooms. Wrapping a towel around her, she makes a pointed glance at his missing appendage. "You're going to grow that back, right? I mean, you grew a whole new body once." Her lips press together tightly as she looks at Atoms uneasily.

Condition(s): None

"Body cologne?" Ah, that's right, Wingblade's senses were quite a bit more attuned compared to the average person. A powerful smell like a strong cologne or perfume would probably be overwhelming. Of course, Atoms never detected it because he can't smell anything; one of many things he lost with his transformation.

Then Wingblade gives the Theta Suit back, leaving her naked, and Atoms swirling with emotions. He wants to look, to be as unaffected as she was about her current state of undress; after all, he had been to places, seen things most people could only dream about, whether it be different dimensions, the outer reaches of the solar system, or the homebase of a race of Outsiders, and none of these remarkably affected him. Yet, this, seeing Wingblade like this, was a wholeheartedly dissimilar experience, and one that made all those wondrous sights nothing in comparison. She is alive. And she is beautiful.

If he had a heart, it'd be beating really fast right now.

Shyly, Atoms looks away as she hands him his Theta Suit. He feels shame. Burning shame. Not because of her nakedness, but because of his inhumanity. In the face of this living, beautiful being, Atoms is inferior, a monster. He is reminded of everything he has lost. And he is reminded of everything he has embraced. Never, in his entire existence as Atoms, has he ever wished so badly to be human again.

Putting on the suit, and keeping his eyes downcast, Atoms follows Wingblade over to the showers. It's a short walk, but long enough to allow Atoms to deeply consider these things. So much so, that by the time Wingblade turns and asks her question, small signs of distress have already began to creep onto his features, his feelings betrayed by the way he holds himself, his tone of voice, and his slight frown.

"If I could grow myself a new body, I would have grown something a lot better than what I have now." Atoms shakes his head. "Back then I was... 'scattered'... and I more or less just kind of pulled myself together. He gestures towards his missing arm. "This is different–it's not 'scattered'. It's more like it's gone. So I don't know." Now that Wingblade has her towel on, Atoms looks directly at her. Stunned once more, his next words come out very soft and weak, I don't know."

The fact was, the loss of his arm was likely permanent, just like anybody else.

"I was joking about the body cologne," she adds quickly with a wry grin. "You did it again. You saved..."

Her smile fades as Atoms tells her that his missing arm may be permanent. No, that's not how this works. He's energy, he's-- she shakes her head in protest. Her eyes flick back and forth to his face and the spot where his other arm should be. Her lower lip trembles.

"No." Her wings flex in agitation as her hands still hold the towel in place. "No, you came back before, it'll come back now. It will. You'll see."

She turns her back to him before he can see the tears welling up in her eyes. First he lost his whole body and humanity. Now his arm of whatever he is now. All for her. It didn't make sense. She couldn't feel worthy of such a sacrifice. She wasn't worthy.

"Stop saving me!" she screams at him. "I didn't ask for it! I don't want it! Please. While there's still some of you left."

A klaxon sounds signalling the arrival of the MAV, so she starts trying to compose herself before Bran arrives.

Bran would have liked to walk off the MAV, but the paramedics were having none of it.

Mysterious energy beams are nothing to play with, sir, they admonished repeatedly until he finally consented to be taken into the MedCenter via reinforced gurney.

They might be right; I think the purple part is spreading, or at least getting more inflamed.

As they take him inside, his face is ghastly, somehow looking flushed and pale and weathered all at once, but he manages a weak wave to Wingblade and Atoms before he vanishes from view.

They quickly take some tissue samples and start him on an IV of broad-spectrum antibiotics, but it doesn't take long before they're talking about surgery and skin grafts, and even muttering about cybernetics.
That'll teach me to throw Gae-Dearg away when I've been smelling dark magic around. Before I go under the knife I've gotta try to fix this myself. I'm sure I can ask the doctors to leave, but I've gotta find a way to get rid of these cameras.

Can you have Sha-. Would you ask Wingblade to come in, please.

After Bran had been brought in on a stretcher, Wingblade watched from a distance while maintaining an uncomfortable silence with Atoms.

She was a little perplexed and a lot worried about the implications when a medical subunit of Matrix wheels out and tells her that Bran had asked for her.

After exchanging a concerned glance with Atoms, she makes her way into the OR. "Hey, Bran. What, uh, what do you need?"

Bran lies very still in his bed, Gae-Dearg propped up next to him as he awaits Shayera with a weary smile.

Hello, Matrix has convinced me that this wound is grievous indeed. Before I undertake any of his more aggressive treatments, I believe I may be able to alleviate it, but do so I require... he makes an annoyed face, privacy.

I swear to you that I will take no untoward action, but I ask that you please see to it that I am unobserved by camera or other methods. I hope that this will not conflict with your loyalties to the Defenders and to Whippoorwill. He looks shamefaced, I would take it as a kindness.

Please.

Wingblade looks at him, unsure. She could see this going all kinds of bad ways; a healthy level of paranoia instilled in her by Whippoorwill has her imagining this whole "good guy" act being a ruse to gain unfettered access to Defenders HQ. Even if it's not sinister, if he crashes while there are no sensors on him would mean he wouldn't receive any assistance for crucial minutes or more.

She shakes her head. "I don't know if I can do that."

She hates to say it, and immediately feels guilty. If he has some private method of healing himself, why shouldn't she let him? Whippoorwill had told her to follow her instincts on this, and right now, she felt she was making a mistake denying his request.

My instincts. All right, I'll follow them. "I'll do it on one condition -- you swear, but not on your honor. On Bronwyn's"

Edit: I don't really like how that last line sounds. Here's what I was going for:

My instincts. All right, I'll follow them. "I'll do it, but just know, you do anything else, I tell Bronwyn all about how you betrayed me."

A slightly hurt expression crosses Bran's face, but he quickly masters it. Of course. I know that what I am asking of you is not simple; I would never seek to abuse your trust.

Wingblade nods once, then looks to Matrix, whose expressionless artificial eyes regard her silently. "What? You heard him; he needs privacy."

Matrix opens a sensory deprivation chamber, then wheels Bran inside. She cuts all connections to the sensors and closes the door. The small window blackens, preventing anyone from seeing inside.

When the door is sealed, Wingblade folds her arms and says under her breath to Matrix, "Put the place on lockdown, seal all the vaults and computer consoles, would ya?"

"Already done," the AI responds.

Despite her instincts, her heart thuds nervously as she walks back over to Atoms while she waits.

Man, I really hope this works. I hate to ask her to do something that makes her uncomfortable, but...
I've gotta make it up to her somehow. That's all there is to it.

Once he's safely ensconced in the sensory deprivation chamber, Gae-Dearg shrunk down to make the fit possible, Bran takes several deep, painful breaths, and wills himself to begin the change.

Aaahhoowww F&@!!

Bran and his hospital gown are gone, and Bronwyn is back in a simple top and Jeans.

Okay, that still hurts. Doesn't feel quite as bad though.

Bronwyn tugs slightly at her top, trying to get a better angle on her wound, or at least where Bran was wounded. There's a nasty looking discoloration there, but it seems to be more of a bruise. It's tender, but it isn't puffy and necrotized, more of a reminder than the scar itself.

That's weird. I can.. feel him A strange sense of Bran fills a corner of her mind. He's hurt, but he's safe. It would have been nice if transforming just fixed him right away, but I think.... I think he'll get better while he's up there.

Bronwyn paces briefly, trying to figure out some way of getting out of here. Even if I just transformed back to Bran... He's not going to be able to walk out of here. They won't just leave him on the doorstep either...

Well, as long as this whole thing isn't still secretly on tape, she's never let me down before.

Bronwyn hits a button in the corner that alerts the outside that she's ready to leave.

Just hope it's Shayera that comes to check on me. Otherwise this'll be even harder to explain.

Wingblade tightens the towel around her and idly wonders if she has time to go grab a spare workout outfit from one of the exercise rooms. But before she's able to do that or even restart her uncomfortable conversation with Atoms, the buzzer sounds outside the dep chamber.

She looks over to Matrix. "That was fast. What could he have done in there?"

"Impossible to extrapolate. There are millions of potentialities. Have you heard of Schrodinger's cat?"

A beat passes as Wingblade stares blankly at Matrix. Then she shakes her head. "Whatever. I'll go see how he's doing."

She opens the door wide enough to stick her head inside. "Bran? What are you-- What the f--?"

Bronwyn gestures to Shayera to come in, and closes the door behind her.

Please don't be mad?

I... I'm not good at explaining this, so I might miss something. Lemme just start by saying that I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Or didn't tell you the whole thing at least. I'm real, Bran's... I don't really know.
It all started when I found this magic spear - I was trying to stop some cultist wack jobs from sacrificing people at the museum - and when I picked it up - BOOM - I was Bran!

She stops for a moment, uncertainty flickering across her features, Well, it's- it's not as simple as I'm Bran. It's more like we swap places. One of us is here, the other is Elsewhere. When I'm him, I'm still in the driver's seat, but it's... different. I've got my memories as Bran, and I remember what I did as him when I'm me, but they're not as real, it's like a movie I watched, like they happened to someone else.

I know he's not just another body though, because he has a couple memories from before I took up the spear. His name, and Gae-Dearg's.

She looks at Shayera, not able to meet her gaze for long. She doesn't care about the memories. You're her friend. She trusted you.

I'm really sorry I didn't tell you, especially after I found out you were Wingblade, but... Well, you're only the second person I've told. Mary-Beth knows - though she doesn't know you're Wingblade - but I haven't even told Marco, or Eli, or my parents or anyone.

She looks very small as she finishes saying this, guilt causing her to shrink in on herself. I should have told you, should have trusted you; I feel like such a hypocrite. The whole reason I followed you home that first day was that you seemed like you didn't trust the world. Like you'd seen so many bad things. I wanted to help you feel safe, feel like you could trust people. And then I lied to you. Some hero. Some friend.

Wingblade stares wide-eyed at Bronwyn while she offers her explanation. She hones her senses, detecting the waves of anxiety and nervousness radiating off of the track star. Whippoorwill had helped her use them as a sort of lie-detector during her training. The trick was differentiating the nervousness found in someone wanting to be believed because their story was true, and someone hoping their lie was believed.

Could Bran still be around, putting Bronwyn here as a distraction while he did... What? The base is on lockdown, and a guy wearing medieval armor doesn't strike me as someone who can beat Matrix's defenses. No, this makes all kind of sense -- once you get past the Bronwyn-is-Bran hurdle.

Shayera waits until Bronwyn finishes beating herself up for lying to her and keeping her secret from her. She regards her in silence for a moment longer, deciding to trust her senses that Bronwyn was telling the truth. The anxiety was honest fear that she would be offended for keeping her secret identity from her.

"Bronwyn, it's fine. It's your secret identity. You really think I'd be insulted that you wanted to keep it secret?" She gives her a reassuring smile.

Bronwyn lets out something between a hiccough and a laugh. Okay, when you say it like that I sound crazy.

She brings her gaze up to meet Shayera's, Still, I'm sorry. I know you wanted a normal friend, and I promise I'll still be there for homework and dances and sleepovers - I'll just be there for the giant robots too.

You're being a basketcase. She isn't freaking out about this - why are you going all mushy!

She shakes her head quickly to clear it and continues, So about Atoms and the Defenders... I'd still rather keep my secret, but Bran's still too hurt to walk out of here on my own. She gingerly pokes the edge of the purple bruise that is partially visible under her top. Him being Elsewhere should help him heal, but it's still not fast enough for this.
You know everyone here better than I do. What should we do?

Condition(s): None

You'll see.

Atoms powers were strange, to say the least. Sometimes he had to practice hard for a new ability to work, and other times a power could show up without him even realizing, as if he had had it since day one. So it was certainly a possibility that his arm could come back. Maybe that's what he should've said instead, that 'he'd be fine'.

Now Wingblade was upset. And Atoms didn't even get the chance to talk to her before Bran called her away for something. It was a terrible cliffhanger. Worse still was Wingblade's parting words, which stung him right to his core.

Anxiously, he paced back and forth, waiting for Wingblade to come back. He wanted to continue their conversation. On the other hand though, he also wanted to get his mind off these things; his arm, his relationship with Wingblade, his humanity; they were all stressful. Regardless of what he wanted though, duty called.

"Atoms," starts Matrix. "There's an incident taking place in–"

He left in a flash.

[Atoms exits~]

Wingblade rubs her temple when she realizes Bronwyn's secret identity wasn't going to stay secret much longer given her current circumstances. She being stuck in a sensory dep room until "Bran" healed wasn't going to work. If only there was some way for her to go invisible or teleport--

"Hang on. I've got an idea," she says, and steps out of the chamber.

She sees Matrix, but Atoms apparently had left. A gnawing pit starts to form in her belly at his absence. She had blown up at him, and only the arrival of a severely injured Bran had kept them from continuing their conversation. I'm going to have to make time with him, she thinks, not really excited about it.

Seeing Wingblade looking around for Atoms, Matrix says flatly, "Mr. Adams has left to deal with an armored car robbery in Bayside. What is the status of Bran the Blessed?"

After blinking in shock that Atoms has gone to Bayside -- a good four hours flight at her speed -- she bites her lip when she turns her attention to Matrix's question. "Ah, he's healing, apparently. It's a private matter, though. He's, um, vulnerable this way. And he... would rather do this at home."

Matrix regards her with her usual expressionless stare. "Brain scan indicates no changes to signify mental influence. Very well. What do you propose?"

Wingblade suppresses a scowl at the fact that she'd been scanned for possible mental control by reminding herself that the AI was just being prudent. She sets her jaw and takes a deep breath. "You've got all the team's phone numbers? Patch me in to Vick -- I mean Hashtag. You know, Ji-Wan Zeng."

Her heart thuds despite her efforts to control it when the ring tone starts. When it picks up, she starts talking before she recognizes whether it's his voice mail answering the call or Vick himself. "Vick, it's me. Don't hang up, please. I need your help. Can you come to Defender's HQ? It won't take long, I promise."

Vick stares at his phone. Well, that's new.

"All right." he says. "Gimme five minutes."

He sighs, looking around his bedroom. He had been laying in bed, making a pushpin-collage in the ceiling panels by teleporting specific colored pins into positions. So far, he had managed to make a seashell, a generic robot, and Steven Colbert from his television show.

He scratches his stomach and pulls on pants and a t-shirt. Tying on his sneakers, he lays back, looking at the clock on his phone.

"Great." he says to himself. "What am I gonna do with the other four and a half minutes?"

Bathroom. Good idea.

-------
Exactly one second before five minutes are up, Vick Appears with a barely perceptible sound of something snapping.

"You rang?" he asks, brushing his hair back and trying his damndest to look cool in a pair of camo cargo pants and a black tank top.

Wingblade takes advantage of the five minutes by rushing off to the locker rooms and pulling on a pair of sweat pants and an exercise tank to replace the towel. She's back in time to see Vick appear in with a crack like breaking glass.

She's about to begin, but realizes how absurd this is going to sound. She squeezes her eyes shut and pinches her brow as she orders her thoughts. "Okay, hear me out. Me, Atoms and a new superhero in town, Bran the Blessed, just fought some strange mystical entity. We won, but Bran got hurt, so we brought him back here for treatment. Turns out, he's got a healing ability, but it's sort of... sensitive. I can't really give you a lot of details, but he'd like to go home without everyone seeing him doing his healing thing."

She rubs the back of her neck and eyes the door to the sensory dep chamber. "So it's, ah, just a small matter of closing your eyes and teleporting me and Br-, um, Bran somewhere close to Northside. Anywhere in the area will be fine. And then, you know, that's pretty much it. I'll owe you one. Maybe a root beer or something."

Afraid he'll make a big deal of it, she puts on a vulnerable, yet hopeful, smile. "Okay?"

Vick hesitates, confused for a moment about the nature of the request. But Vick's always been a brilliant, if somewhat rebelious person.

"Let me guess." he says. "Bran, the new hero. Uses a badass magic spear. Can heal, but has to transform back into their mundane identity to do it and doesn't want other people to know who they are and all that jazz. Can't change back into Bran cause the wound is worse than you're telling me and he can't walk in that condition. So, you need me to 'port you and a person I can't see at all to a nebulous location without accidentally splitting them into pieces or merge them with a fencepost?"

Wingblade shrugs. No sense in denying it. "Yeah, pretty much. You good with that?"

Vick shrugs. "Yeah." he says simply. "Just wanted to make sure I had it straight. Lead the way."

He closes his eyes and holds out a hand.