Masks: A New Generation of Heroes

Game Master Cwethan

Meanwhile:

Having finished her paperwork, Skuld stood and stretched, then went and returned the books that she was using to the shelves. She then collected her paperwork and headed out, surprised at the late hour.

As she was looking around, she spotted Marco, still cleaning up from the track meet...

Tag!

It kinda pissed Marco off how glad he was to see Skuld here at school.

He'd been really hoping he could just write her off as the crazy girl, and then he and Bronwyn could be on their merry way. But she wouldn't just ditch Skuld for whatever reason, and when she did things like warn him that she might be coming to the track meet, it really didn't help anything.

Maybe he was being too defensive about it, but hey, when someone challenged you to a duel, maybe you were supposed to see them as some kind of threat. And Bronwyn knowing Skuld's schedule? That did not make him a happy camper.

But then Skuld didn't show after all, and he could relax, a bit. He had to pretend really hard that he couldn't overhear Eliza gossiping about him in a not particularly subtle attempt to free him up for the dating market, but Ronnie had his back there.

It was a lot easier when you could just be a good guy and trust that your friends would help you.

And it's not like wasn't a jealous guy by nature, Bronwyn wandering off to go talk to Kendall(?) and Shayera didn't bug him, even when Kendall kept spacing out staring at Bronwyn's legs, but towards the end of the meet, when Bronwyn said she was gonna bounce instead of celebrating with the team? All he could think was that maybe she was heading to where Skuld was instead.

It was crappy, he knew, but, well, she'd lied! She did tell you that she was with Skuld though, she just lied about why.

But then he saw Skuld, actually at the school, Bronwyn nowhere to be found, and it made him really glad. Which of course, pissed him off.

I shouldn't have to care where she is! I'm sick of this.

"Hey, Skuld." He definitely didn't have a plan, he barely even realized he'd walked over, but just ignoring her clearly wasn't working. He gritted his teeth as he forced himself to ask, "So, first, I'm still not gonna fight you. But in this duel, I get that if I win, you back off, but what are you hoping for? I'm not gonna break up with Bronwyn if you win, so... what are the stakes? I mean, what would they be?"

"Well, as the challenged, you would have the right to decide on the form the challenge takes; besides, unless you are a master duelist and I have never heard of you, a swordfight would be a losing proposition for you."

Skuld sighs and says "I don't understand. Where I come from, people are less formal about such things. If you are attracted to someone, you let them know, and if they are attracted to you, then they let you know and you act on that attraction. Here, everything seems to be confused, restricted, and without easy resolution. As you are with her, I have to deal with you before I can even make such a proposition. To do so duplicitiously would demean both myself and Bronwyn."

Skuld thinks for a moment, then pouts her lips and says "This would be so much easier if you were a cad."

"Well, let me ask you this. Do you think I mistreat her? Why do you think you'd be better for her than me? There's a million things I could challenge you to where you'd have no chance because you don't really know her.

"I've known her since we were little kids: we've gone to the same schools, the same church, we've trained together, competed together, prayed together, volunteered together, made mistakes and fixed them together. I know everything that makes her amazing, you just have the eyes to see that she's beautiful."

He took a deep breath, "I've said it before, I'm not gonna fight you. I don't know if this can count as a duel, but you tell me where you think I fall short with her, where you'd do better, I'll prove you wrong."

"No, I do not believe that Bronwyn is weak enough to stay with a man who mistreats her. Let me ask you this though: Do you love her more than you love yourself?"

Marco tried his best to keep his gaze level, but inside he was squirming.
We haven't actually said 'I love you' yet...

"...Yeah. When it comes down to it, her happiness is more important to me.

"Why do you think she'd ever choose you?"

"In answer to your first question, yes, I do; In answer to your second question, those things are ephemera. They do not make you who you are, any more than the size of your feet or the color of your eyes."

"In answer to your third question, I have much to offer. I am a proud, fearless, and unashamed of myself. Can you truly say that you are not 'a couple' only because you've known each other so long?"

Marco visibly scoffed at Skuld's answer, "Okay - sure, easy to say I guess. But you really don't see how those things matter? Of course something like her favorite movie isn't important by itself, but you never get to see all of someone at once. You get to know her through the little moments that let a part of what's really important show through. That's what lets you know that you're..."
Okay, I'll be damned if the first person I tell that I'm in love with Bronwyn is Her.
"...that it's really them that matters to you, and not just the idea of them.

"This didn't happen by accident; it would have been really easy for us to just stay friends, but I took a chance and asked her to a dance because I already knew how amazing she is. And she said yes because..." Because Eli hadn't asked yet? "...because of everything we'd shared already. And then from there..." was it just momentum? Ugh, I can't let her get in my head. "...we just, got closer and closer.

"Knowing each other beforehand, having things in common, having the same ideas about the future, those are all good things!"

"But have you told her that you love her?" asks Skuld, clearly sensing Marco's uncertainty.

"...No.

"It's a big step, and I don't want to rush her."

He knew Bronwyn'd say it back. But he'd been the one to ask her to the dance, the one who'd asked her out on the date after that, the one who'd leaned in to start their first kiss, the one who'd... well. He'd been careful to make sure she was ready each time for each step, but I just want her to go first this time.

Kenneth groaned slightly as he left the shower. After returning from the library, his mother had roped him into helping with her project car. While he understood the standard components well enough, she had employed enough weird physics and obscure devices from her old job that he was mostly there for manual labor. With the weight of some of the super-dense materials, a session working on the car could easily replace his weight training regimen and left him with sore muscles even the shower didn't fully fix.

Tossing on his robe, Kenneth flicked on the lights in his room and sat down at his computer. He tried not to use his computer in the dark like he had the other night. He knew that it rapidly caused eye strain, and besides it felt so pretentious. Booting up his secure partition, he decided to review Billowing Warhol Wiped.

Kenneth cringed internally as he read through the notes. Stream of consciousness writing was good for getting info down quick and easily, but most of it was not tactically relevant. What's the use of knowing what color her eyes are? And why did I bring it up so many times? His eyes stopped when he With a moment's thought, he wiped the file. This really belongs in Feed Greyhound Sent anyways. That thing is becoming a mess, I should reformat it.

Switching to the file on young superheroes, Kenneth began moving most of the names to a new defunct section until he was left with just four.

Grimacing at the last entry, he relucantly moved that profile to defunct section as well. Reviewing Wingblade's entry didn't improve his mood. It certainly wasn't as... flowery as the previous file, but it wasn't a significant improvement. I really need to add another entry don't I.

Creating a new profile he began typing. Let's see, I don't have a super identity to attach to Bronwyn yet, I'll just leave it with her name. What do I know for certain? Enhanced endurance and strength certainly. She's always been popular, but there's a rumor that people are literally fighting over her now, I'll include potential enhanced charisma or charm. Her powers have only developed recently, so its not inborn. She was called in with Thor Girl the day of the Reaver Technologies incident... Guh I hope this isn't all fallout from Leeching Overreactions, I should put a reference in anyway. The lack of significant details annoyed him. I really should know more about a girl I have been going to school with for most of my life...

Shutting down his computer, Kenneth flexed his hands with anxious energy. After a moment's indecision, he began putting on his black cargo pants and shirt. It was too late for him to be going out normally, but parking in the area was bad enough that he had parked where his parents wouldn't notice his car missing. Opening the window, Apex climbed out into the night to find crime to fight, and maybe a way to blow off some steam.

A day or two later...

Friday can't get here fast enough, Wingblade thinks as she lands on the balcony of her penthouse suite. The pace she'd set for herself has been grueling -- getting up early for her daily dose of high fashion, a full day of school, tutoring immediately afterward, then training and patrolling the skies with Whippoorwill. She received Whip's approval to take part of Friday night off to go out with her friends, and she longed for it.

She slips inside, planning on eating a few leftovers real quick before a quick shower and then bed. However, as soon as she steps inside, she realizes she has a visitor.

"Hello, 秀英," comes the smooth voice of her father.

"It's Sh--" she begins, but decides not to argue. Switching to Chinese, she says, "Hello, Father. I'm surprised to see you."

"I wanted to see how you were getting along. Settling in. How are you?" he asks, also in Chinese. He is sitting at the dining area adjacent to the kitchen, and has a pair of covered dishes set, one before him and one before an empty place at the table.

"Good," she says truthfully as she moves and sits down. The aroma is wonderful, and despite her fatigue her stomach comes roaring to life. She reveals the plate of food, snatches up a pair of chopsticks and begins to dive in. The slightest clearing of her father's throat causes her to freeze, and she sets down the chopsticks. "Sorry."

She waits and watches her father uncover his own dish, slowly and deliberately taking his utensils into hand, and then taking a bite. Xiu Ying waits for his cue, then begins to eat slower and in a slightly more refined manner than before.

They eat in silence until they are both finished, then Xiu Ying collects the dishes and takes them to the sink. When she returns, her father is standing at one of the windows, looking out over the city. "So, just good?" he asks.

She comes up behind him and looks out at the dazzling view. "No, I mean, really good. Great, even. School's fine, I'm getting caught up, I'm back in the game with Whippoorwill, and all this new stuff is amazing. Finding out that I died was a bit of a shock, though."

Her father turns back and looks at her. "Ah, you found out about that, then?"

Xiu Ying shrugs. "Yeah. Got some weird looks at school. I think most have bought the China story, but a lot have their doubts."

Her father turns and looks back out the window, giving a slight dismissive shrug of his shoulders as well. "What anyone else believes is of no consequence. Let them speculate."

He turns from his reverie, walks over to Xiu Ying and puts his hand on her shoulder. "I'll have to be gone for the next several days, on business. Benedict and the others will continue to see to your needs." He gives her a squeeze, then starts to leave. Once he steps into the waiting elevator, he pauses. "Oh, while I'm gone, could you check up on something for me? Someone lost this near one of our facilities, we think during a school outing."

In a smooth motion, he draws a small but heavy object wrapped in a sealed plastic bag from his coat pocket. He tosses it across the room to Wingblade who catches it easily. She looks at it. It's a fairly basic multitool. "It may belong to someone you know, or will come across one day. If you do, I'm sure they would love to have it back." He gives her one more smile as the doors close shut.

"Do you fear that saying such a thing would lessen you, or are you the sort of man who only likes to hear a woman say it first because their ego can't handle it otherwise."

"Neither.

"And I think it's my turn for a question. You've talked a big game about loving her more than yourself, and how you're not fooled by ephemera, how you're both so obviously attracted to each other that if only I were out of the way everything would be simple. What do you love about her? Not what are some nice words you could say about a dozen other girls at this school, what do you love about her?"

After Shayera'd left, Bronwyn had done pretty good work on finishing out a sleepless night staring at the ceiling, but finally her thoughts quieted, and sleep took her.

But it didn't take her anywhere nice.

The charm she'd made to show Scythe to Shayera glowed softly where it still rested against her skin, the gentle light showing nothing of the blood and fear it portended as inside her head, a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, smells whirled together.
==========
***Jagged gouges in solid walls. Sheets of metal torn to shrapnel by unholy rage

***An emotionless report in a beloved voice "Acknowledged. Target priority override. Elimination in progress."

A face loomed large in her mind's eye, heavy with atavistic features that she normally hid behind a helm, his eyes fixed on her own.

***Scythe's claws sparked along his hauberk ripping it open.
But the blades didn't mark his skin.

***A sudden movement caught Bronwyn's eye; she tensed, ready to fight or flee, but it was just a toddler's lost balloon. The shadows were empty this time.

***Blood welled up across his chest in razor thin lines.
This time his armor hadn't held.

A thin whisper of a voice carried words to her, but they were cloaked in an unfamiliar tongue. "Mae'r llafnau yn ein blaenau, peidiwch â cholli"

***Marco's face twisted in concern as he asked her why she seemed so nervous.

***Because she might hurt you to get to me.
Because I wanted to spend time with someone who isn't watching the shadows.
Because I wanted to spend time with someone who doesn't think I have to kill Her all over again.
Because I wanted to spend some time with someone who will kiss me instead of trying to impale me.

***Marco's face twisted with annoyance as he asked her why seemed so distracted.

The man's face loomed large again. His hair was longer than she kept it, a full beard, redder than his hair, sprouted from lined cheeks long gone grey with age and pain.
His face was weary, but his eyes were hard as a flint awaiting the steel.
With the barest movement of his lips he whispered, "Mae'r llafnau ar y blaen, ymuno â'r ddawns"

***The wind tugged at him as she hauled him up into the sky, taloned feet digging into his mail like a vise. "I'll be disappointed if you don't scream," she smirked.

***I can save her. I just need to give her the chance.

***"No! I can take them! No, just let me--" Scythe's protestations to her unseen masters cut short and her whole body convulses briefly in a wave of pain. Her defiance squelched, she returns to vocal numbness "... Acknowledged."

***She was only in view for a flickering instant. In the low-burning light of his spear her pristine white mask was -slowly staining in the red ruin that had been Shayera's face- an ugly crimson.
He froze.
She didn't.

The warrior's face no longer filled her vision, but the rest of him simply wasn't there. His head rested alone on a long table, surrounded by the trappings of an unfinished feast, whispering fiercely with no lungs to give strength to his voice.
"Pam y byddech chi'n rhoi drugaredd i'r anghenfil hwn"
==========
Bronwyn sat up, blinking in confusion at the first light of dawn, "...Bran? Was that you?"

"I love that she is fearless. I love that she lacks cruelty. I love that there is no ambiguity about her. I love that she owns her sexuality, and allows no one to command it; and yes, I also greatly appreciate her body as well. It is a true joy to look at."

"My turn. Why do you love her besides your past history and shared knowledge of popular culture."

"Because of the way she makes kindness an active force in her life, and... No. You know what? There's no answer I could give that's gonna make you go away.

"So, you know what? Go for it. I'm not going anywhere, but your honor is safe if you want to ask her out." He barked out an aggravated laugh, "Believe me, no one's gonna say you're... duplicitous. But I'm done wasting time trying to get you to understand.

"Good luck."

Shayera struts through the hallways in Halcyon High in distressed denim jeans, strappy wedge heels, and athletic-inspired mesh jersey with a floral-print bomber jacket over her invisible wings. Her marked switch to stylish wear has drawn the attention of a clique of the preppy fashion-conscious girls. Portia Vance and the other girls known for being on the cutting edge of fashion at the high school quickly gravitated towards Shayera's chic clothing.

When she stops at her locker, the other ladies quickly surround her. "Is that a Vertucci jacket?" Portia exclaims, pinching the fabric despite herself.

Shayera smiles as she lets the girls check out the label. "It sure is. You like?" She appraises the outfits of the others, then gives a variety of compliments at their choices of fashion. At first, the girls had been passively aggressive, initially throwing out a bunch of veiled insults about her dying or faking her own death. However, Shayera's fashion acumen quickly won them over -- especially her ability to appear day after day in yet another designer outfit the girls could only drool over. They reluctantly bought the story that Shayera had been whisked away to China for a while, and her once-estranged father is now in her life again -- and is pretty wealthy.

The girls ooh and aah over the fashion until the bell rings to announce the impending start of classes. They move in a pack, strutting through the halls turning eyes of hot-blooded males and jealous females.

The only rival to the ladies is spotted moving the other direction. Shayera extricates herself from the clique to get in the way of the stunning beauty of the Norse goddess. "Hey, Skuld," Shayera says, trying to catch her attention. I hope I'm doing the right thing, inviting her, she can't help but think. But Bronwyn still said it was okay, even though it could be awkward. But I'm doing this for all of us, she reminds herself. "It's me. Soul girl? I wanted to let you know, Bronwyn and I are going out clothes shopping this Friday, and I wanted to invite you along. It's all on me -- there's no way I could max out my card on an army, much less three of us. Could you come? If you're not busy?"

Apex finished his lap around the park and approached his car. Removing his mask as he left the shadows, he looked like any other civilian out for a nighttime jog. It had been quiet, and he'd sort of expected that. The parks in midtown were shaded enough to draw their share of muggers, but the area was generally well-lit and he knew he wasn't the only one on patrol tonight. This neighborhood had a respectable police response time, and it was rarely short of capes.

So why am I here? I could be down in Rustside or Old Town doing some real good. Absently, his gaze drifted to one of the nearby skyscrapers. Shaking his head slightly he refocused his train of thought, it's been almost a week and I've made no real progress in any of my investigations. I haven't found out any more about Shayera other than her aptitude for Shakespeare. I haven't confronted Bronwyn about her powers or the track meet. I haven't even attempted to debrief Skuld and that should have been the first step. And who knows where Bran is?

Rubbing his eyes with the balls of his hands, he took one last look at the empty sky and then drove home to rest for the next day.

***

Stepping out of the car, Kenneth folded the cash from his day at the hospital into his wallet. I should pick up my replacement soon, you never know when something like that will come in handy.

Stalking, through the halls, he kept his shoulders hunched and his posture non-threatening. He knew he could take any of the school bullies, but it wouldn't fit the cover he'd spent over a year building. Plenty of the other students recognized, him but no one really acknowledged him as he passed. It was a delicate balancing act, he had to stay just aloof enough that no one tried to pry into his business, but not rude enough to engender any enemies. Eventually, his personality matched his name, a cold gray that let him fade into the background.

A short detour took him near Shayera's first class, but a quick glance down the hall saw that she was engaged in conversation with Skuld. Well that's two strikes at once. At least I don't have to go hunting for the Valkyrie. That left one other option if he didn't want the morning to go to waste. Turning abruptly, he made his way back toward the locker rooms. Morning practices for the sports teams should be finishing up, and he could afford to be a bit late to first period if necessary. Posting up around a corner, Kenneth watched a group of lean runners, freshly showered, pass by on their way to class and lay in wait for Bronwyn.

Something's up with Marco.

He'd been real quiet during practice. Not exactly distant, he'd still been smiling, and happy to see her and everything, but, well, quiet.

At least Shayera's gonna ask Skuld so I don't have to. That's just not a visual I need to give him; plus it's not like she'd have any chill and just say Sure, or Sounds fun, or It's a date. No, she'd be all, The Bond Between Us Grows Stronger, or just sweep me off my feet Romance-novel-style. Definitely better that Shayera's asking her.
Man, when she sees Shayera in one of her new outfits she might just forget me entirely anyways. Should I just find Skuld a girlfriend? Not Shayera, I mean, not that she would, but that would be really awkward if...
Okay, Kenneth is definitely staring at me.

Having caught Bronwyn's attention, Kenneth raised his hand to gesture her over, away from the other athletes. No turning back now. I know this has to happen, I just hope she doesn't put me through a wall. Quietly he said, "Come over here, you probably don't want the other's hearing this."

Guiding her to a stop down a mostly empty hallway, his posture smoothly shifted. His back straightened and his shoulders pulled back, his knees bent slightly ready to propel him quickly if necessary. His face underwent a similar shift changing from shy indifference to a cold glare. "I know your secret, and I'm only going to give you one chance. You need to stop what you're doing now."

Kenneth felt a slight twinge at his words. I'm probably overselling it, but I can't take any chances, I don't know just how powerful she is yet.

What?! What secret do I have that I should stop doing?
Okay, private shakedown, no specifics, this is a fishing trip. Just don't bite the hook.

"Y'know, I was going for kind of a subtle look," she gestured to her face, "but don't worry, my makeup's not really meant to be a secret, and I'm pretty sure it doesn't hurt anyone."

Kenneth rolled his eyes at Bronwyn's response. "Really? We're doing it that way? I don't think this school has enough swinging doors for a proper farce."

Composing his expression back into a glare he continued. "No, I don't mean your makeup. I know you have powers and I know you're using them to cheat at track. I'll give you until the next track meet to drop from the team or I'll expose you myself."

Softening his glare, Kenneth said "Look I know you're probably reveling in your new abilities, but you could be out there doing real good rather than just making yourself feel better by outrunning normal high school students. My parents used to work for some heroes, if you want I could see if they'll reach out to them on your behalf, get you set up with a mentor of some sort."

If she has some charm power, she's going to use it now... let's hope this works... THIS IS THE SONG THAT NEVER ENDS...

"Cheating at- Are you freaking kidding me?!" Her eyes blazed with fury; her hands balled into fists. "I don't know what the Hell you're talking about, and you clearly don't either. You want me to show you that I can do everything I did out on that field anytime anywhere? You got it!" She scoffed, " 'I know you have powers' - believe it or not, I've been running 50+ miles a week for years, and I don't need powers to do that, or to throw the best freaking javelin in the country!"

"And what do you mean 'could be out there doing real good'? Comemierda you wanna talk good deeds? Hope you've got a long list ready. Mira, I don't have time for your craziness. Just 'cause you've seen me run doesn't mean you know me."

The song in Kenneth's head stopped abruptly as he felt a familiar sense of indignation build in his gut. "You may not need powers to run but they certainly seemed to help you add over a meter to your shot put. And your javelin! I'll give you that, it was really impressive watching you hit the exact point you marked, just to make sure you didn't give yourself away."

As he spat the words, Kenneth's face devolved from the show glare he'd built in the mirror to one of genuine disgust. "It's not enough for you to know that you could beat anyone at that meet without really trying, you have to make a show of it, pretending you're normal like the rest of them! I don't have any of your gifts, but I tutor people, I volunteer at the hospital, I... do good. Meanwhile you take powers most people couldn't hope to dream of and use them to grandstand." His breath came in pants now, his fist gripped tightly in rage.

"I'm not here to convince you, I'm here to give you a chance to do the right thing. People like you don't belong on the field with regular athletes. If you think I'm wrong, just ask yourself miss best freaking javelin in the country, what would you have done if one of those unpowered, normal students had beaten your record? Would you have given them the win they so rightly deserved, or would you have just inched them out to feed your own ego?" While his rant had been steadily building in volume, his last question came as an angry hiss.

Skuld seems confused for a moment, then says "So, I have your permission? so much the better!" before tearing off down the hallway, clearly not understanding what Marco was implying.

I wouldn't have... I even let them win everything that made any sense... Okay, even if he's wrong, he's been paying more attention than I thought. He could cause real problems. I can't just tell him this is all in his head.

...And he's not completely wrong.

The fire in her eyes dimmed, slightly, "Okay, not that it's any of your business, zángano, but you aren't the only one who-". She worked her jaw as she tried to choose her words carefully, "Tutoring and volunteering aside, there are... Other ways I help too."

Ugh, I don't need him trying to figure out what mask I'm under. Gal in the chair story?

"There's a hero; I help them with equipment, training, you know, support stuff."

Can't just tell him that, Bron, he knows about the strength... "The thing is, they're magic. And sometimes working on their gear has side effects, especially when I summo- You know what? You don't need the details. So yeah, I screwed up with the shot put, and maybe I wasn't as tired as I would've normally been, but if anything, it made me do worse across the whole event because I had to hold back!

"Look, maybe I should've just skipped the meet, but I miss enough practices to 'help out,' pulling something like that could get me kicked off the team. Do you really think I should sacrifice my future because I... help out?"

Skuld? I invited you to go shopping a few posts back. Did you see that?

"Hey, Skuld," Shayera says, trying to catch her attention. I hope I'm doing the right thing, inviting her, she can't help but think. But Bronwyn still said it was okay, even though it could be awkward. But I'm doing this for all of us, she reminds herself. "It's me. Soul girl? I wanted to let you know, Bronwyn and I are going out clothes shopping this Friday, and I wanted to invite you along. It's all on me -- there's no way I could max out my card on an army, much less three of us. Could you come? If you're not busy?"

I missed that piece. Sorry.

"I would be more than happy to accompany you both on a trip to the market. I think it would be good for us to get out."

Skuld was coherent, but it's clear she was thinking about something else, something that excited her.

Kenneth pulled back slightly, as if struck. She's support... of course... A wave of memories came to mind. He remembered the exhilaration of riding on the back of a flying motorcycle while his mother test-drove it. He remembered the odd stinging relief of the experimental ointment his father applied to the arm Kenneth had broken falling out of a tree. He remembered his parents discussing esoteric sciences over dinner, fields that they never would have encountered on their own. And he remembered one scene happening again and again and again.

The team had a yearly open house. It was a kind of combination holiday party/staff appreciation event. This was a chance for family members to see what it really meant to be a part of a super team, or at least a sanitized version of it. And every year, while Kenneth was standing with his parents, Technocrat would approach and a scene would play out like clockwork. "Who is this young man?" "This is our son, Kenneth" "It's good to meet you, Kenneth. Be sure to study hard and one day you can be a brilliant scientist like me." Then the hero would dispense an autographed photo and continue on.

Kenneth knew his memory of Technocrat was slightly warped, it had too many teeth, its skin had too bright a sheen, but the core was still there. Eight years in a row, and the man who knew everything couldn't be bothered to remember a young boy's face. The memories were so similar they overlapped, and Kenneth had spaced out for less than a second before he seemed to deflate.

"I... I... I'm sorry, you're right, I didn't know." He ran his hands over his face attempting to regain his composure. "This hero you're helping? They aren't doing you any favors letting you compete like this, with their power spilling over. The school board tests for magic now, like steroids. They may only break out the test for the big track meets, but the football team has to do it almost every game after some high school in California accidentally recruited a werewolf pack for their defensive line. You wouldn't believe what happened to their rivals."

Kenneth glanced up and down the hall, grateful that it had emptied before they really got into it. "I shouldn't have given you an ultimatum... I just... never mind. I'm not going to expose you, but you really need to figure something out." Rifling through his bag, Kenneth pulled out a pad of hall passes and scribbled out a quick note. Holding it out to Bronwyn, he offered "This should cover being late to class. Mrs. Rafferty writes so many of these, she never really knows who they're for." Kenneth attempted to slip back into his school persona, but after the emotional whirlwind he'd just experienced, he mostly felt exhausted.

Well he went on a whole face journey there.

Her eyes still weren't warm, but she was accepting his hall pass, his apology and his advice, as if I didn't already know that, with all the grace she could muster, when a thought struck her.

Could he be Apex? He's about the right height, right build, right idea that he's got all the answers...

"Hey Kenneth, this isn't really any of my business, but let's face it, that threshold's clearly been breached... The way you talked about it, are you a superhero? My guy's team are looking to scare up new recruits, and you're clearly not lacking guts. Do you have the moves too?"

Shayera beams brightly when Skuld agrees to come with them. "That's great! I'll have us picked up right after school, so no worries. See you then, for sure!" she says, noticing that Skuld was clearly happy about something unrelated to the shopping trip. Hopefully that registered with her.

She starts moving as quick as her wedge sandals would allow her to go back to class and passes by a nearly-empty hall where she catches Bronwyn and Kenneth out of the corner of her eye. She slows slightly as her hand moves toward her purse where the multitool sat. But the clock continued ticking and those two were obviously in some sort of intense discussion based on the sweat of nervousness wafting off of both of them. She decides not to interrupt, knowing she'll see both of them later and that being late to class would not be good.

Shayera slides into her seat just as the buzzer rings, receiving an arched eyebrow by the biology teacher Ms. Cartwright but nothing more severe.

The rest of the day goes smooth enough. When the final bell rings signalling the end of the day, she makes her way to the library. When Kenneth shows up, she flashes him a smile and pulls out something wrapped in a clear plastic bag out of her purse. She slides it over to him.

When her father had tossed her the multitool, she had opened the bag and given it a whiff. Thankfully it must have been put in the bag quickly after it had been found, because there was just enough of a lingering scent that allowed her to immediately recognize it as Kenneth's.

"I think this might be yours," she says, gesturing to the multitool. "You dropped this during a school outing at one of my dad's facilities, right? I recognized you from a surveillance still. Small world, huh?

"So, what's today's lesson, coach?"

The mental exercises he'd practiced paid off and Kenneth didn't react as Bronwyn called him out. Internally, his gut dropped at the first time someone had guessed his identity. No, calm down, don't breath deep that would be a give away, breath normally. She doesn't know you're Apex, she just thinks you're in the know... because you are.

"I... I might know someone who would be interested. I'll let you know soon. We should probably get to class, these will only cover so much." Kenneth waved the illicit pad of hall passes as he backed away from Bronwyn. Turning before she could respond, he jogged around the corner and made his way to his next class. His mind was still whirring as he came to his Calculus classroom.

"Mr. Gray. You're late, this is very unlike you." Mr. Walsh glanced away from the board covered in arcane mathematics as Kenneth stepped in.

#^%$, I forgot to write my own note. "I'm sorry, Mr. Walsh. I left my book out in my car and had to run down to get it."

"Very well. Don't make a habit of it. I'll excuse you because its your first infraction, but next time you'll have detention. Understood?"

Kenneth bobbed his head to the chorus of "Oohs" from the rest of the class. Taking his seat, he didn't bother to get out the extra book or recorder, instead he spent the class trying to parse Bronwyn's offer.

Do I want to work with someone else? I wouldn't have made it out of Reaver without Bran the Blessed and Thor Girl's assistance. But what if it doesn't work out? Finn won't even look at me now, much less talk to me and this guy already seems reckless, whoever he is. What if he exposes me, or worse, uses my family as leverage? If I go to this meeting, I need backup, someone to watch my back, but who? Flux is out. What about Thor Girl? No, there's something going on between Skuld and Bronwyn. Thor Girl might just be who Bronwyn wants me to meet. For the rest of the hour, Kenneth composed strategies and ran contingencies until the bell rang.

As he left the class, Kenneth compartmentalized his thoughts and composed himself for his next class. It wouldn't do for him to be as distracted as he had been in math.

=============

Kenneth rehearsed the story he'd found to start Shayera's history tutoring to himself on his way to the library. It was a gruesome story about George Washington's first military foray, involving a man having his head ripped open by a Native American ally of the general's. He figured she'd get a kick out of the story or he'd get a laugh out of her response. Once he entered the room though, all thoughts of the great general fled his mind, the sight of his multitool bringing back memories of a metallic blur in the darkness.

This is too soon, my investigation hasn't progressed far enough for this. No, my timeline's a joke, I haven't pressed any of those leads since I entered them in Feed Greyhound Sent. I've been too busy asking Shayera for a horse to save my kingdom to ask any important questions. I'm just going to have to improvise.

Kenneth took the multitool from the bag and began fiddling with it, passing it through his fingers in a combination of contact juggling and modified butterfly knife tricks. Thinking briefly about his encounter earlier in the day, he came to a decision.

"Today's lesson is going to diverge from the school's curriculum. Let's call it 'Critical Thinking and Deduction'. According to you, I left this on a school trip at your father's workplace, you saw me in a security photo. What would you say if I told you three things: First, I know exactly where I left this tool, second, the school has never had an outing there, and three, if you saw me in a security still you wouldn't have recognized my face?"

Shayera blinks. She had guessed about the security still, figuring it would be a plausible scenario to explain how she knew it was Kenneth's. I should have just slipped it in his bag, she thinks, since 'it smells like you' is only going to invite more questions.

She frowns slightly under his gaze as he studies her reaction. Her father hadn't specified in which facility the tool had been found. It could have been Mnemodyne, Oësterhausen, or even Reaver Industries depending on the field of study. But if Kenneth's sure where he lost it, and there wasn't a school trip there, what was Kenneth doing at one of Dad's facilities? And why did Dad say it was at a school trip? She files that second question away for later, having to come up with another explanation about why she knew the tool was his.

She glances down to see him absently playing with the tool -- a decent display of manual dexterity for someone who usually fumbles about whenever he's around her. Her eyes look back up to meet his as the corners of her mouth turn up slowly. Kenneth was smart, maybe too smart for his own good. He was seeking to trap her, and she needed a way out.

Whippoorwill was a formidable fighter and tactician, and though she cut an imposing figure that no one would say was unattractive, she had never to Wingblade's knowledge used her looks as an advantage. Her training had never included awareness of the effect that being a young and attractive female has on males. That lesson was recently taught to her by Tiffany -- the fashion consultant whose constant chatter while she applied makeup and attire included all sorts of opinions about how a pretty face can turn off the brain of even the smartest boy. And while Shayera will never match the superhuman beauty of Skuld or the effervescent charm of Bronwyn, she was cute in her own way and further enhanced by Tiffany's artistry.

Time to put that to the test. Shayera leans forward and puts her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together. Resting her chin on her interlocked hands, she looks up at him with a playful glint in her eyes. She trusts Tiffany's makeup and her own occasional touch-ups throughout the day to make her eyes pop and features sparkle. "Okay," she says. "I like a good mystery. If that's the case, how do you think I knew this tool was yours?"

No sense in walking into his trap. Let's see how smart he really is.

One of these days Kenneth is going to ask a superhero related question and not have makeup used to distract him :p

Is she...

Kenneth scowled and took a breath to attempt to hide the blush he felt building up.

"That's a dodge at best and you know it. But since I'm apparently tutoring you, I'll walk through my reasoning. First, I need to know if the basis of the question is true. Did you know it was mine or did someone tell you? The only viable candidate for that would be your father."

Kenneth paused his tricks with the tool and pulled out each of the components as though examining them for damage. While his focus remained on the tool, he continued his lecture. "Now, it might be possible that he or one of his employees had a means of identifying me, but the message this tool represents would be far more effective in person. No, it's far more likely that he is using you to find the owner. My build puts me squarely in high school and if he gives it to you at best he finds me, at worst he gets it back."

Finishing the examination of the multitool, his eyes came up and locked on Shayera's. "So we are back to you. How did you know? If you got this from your your father and think it is one of your acquaintances' then I certainly make sense. Few of the other kids you spend time with have any real mechanical inclinations. But that would only be a hunch, a suspicion, in which case you would have asked. No, you knew. This doesn't have any marks to identify it as mine, intentionally so. And even if you had the tools to fingerprint it, mine wouldn't be on it. Which leaves other senses. It certainly doesn't sound like me and I presume you are too proper to lick it, which just leaves smell." Kenneth let a small smirk onto his face at the joke.

"Now I only smell metal, and presumably, Shayera Kinney would only smell the same... Wingblade though has been known to have exceptional senses. The kind of senses that are ideal for tracking down prey. That, Li Xiu Ying, is how you knew it was mine. I really thought Whippoorwill would have taught you to cover your secret identity better." His deduction complete, Kenneth's smirk blossomed into a smug smile, complete with a questioning eyebrow raise.

Shayera leans back in her chair, stunned. How to play this? she thinks as her mind whirls through Kenneth's deductive reasoning. His smug grin settles the debate quickly.

"Wingblade? You think I'm... that psychopath?" She puts a good amount of heat into her voice, letting in her old self-loathing bring truth to her words. You know she's a killer, right? That half the fights she gets in someone ends up stabbed, or bleeding, or dead? Is that who you think I am?"

She folds her arms, indignant. She crosses her legs and gives her hair a toss with a shake of her head. "It's called a forensic algorithm. Dad programs them for the police. He ran your tool through it, found where it was bought, and pulled up a list of buyers. You were on the short list, and yeah, I didn't see your face but what I saw still looked a lot like you. You're the one who confirmed it."

Really, twice in one day... eh I don't know what I expected, I'd probably pull something like this too...

"So your father re-tasked a resource intensive algorithm and sorted through a long list of names, found the identity of the unknown individual in his building, and connected it to you so that he could..." Kenneth used his dramatic pause to waggle the device in his hand. "Return my multitool."

I had better be right about this gamble. But it's the only thing that hasn't changed. Nothing points to her having the magic to hide her wings on her own, and she would need a quick way of undoing any external obfuscation method in case trouble arose.

Sighing slightly, he took the seat across from Shayera. "Look, if you are Wingblade, I think you're a little too hard on yourself. Wingblade is on the very short list of heroes who has become less lethal as her career progressed. And if you aren't Wingblade, prove it, take off your necklace."

A look of irritation crosses Shayera's features. The damn necklace. He noticed I'm always wearing it, even when it doesn't match my outfit.

She rolls her eyes. "You're not going to drop this, are you? Just soo sure of yourself," she says, sounding exasperated.

I'm *really* glad I wore the bomber jacket today, she thinks as she reaches behind her neck to untie the necklace. Her old wings could never be covered up in anything but a bulky backpack. If she tried to throw a jacket like her new Vertucci over her old wings, she would look like a grotesque hunchback for the few short moments before the blades shredded the thing.

Her new wings, however, fold up nicely compact. Since she removed the lining in her jacket, there should be nothing terribly obvious except the tips of her pinfeathers below the base of the jacket -- which the chair's back and table should obscure.

"Besides, isn't she dead or something?" she asks as the necklace comes off. She spins around in her swivel chair once, returning to face him. Her return as Wingblade isn't some great secret, and she knows that various super watch groups like capes.net exploded after her apparent resurrection. However, she hasn't had her picture taken with her new wings folded up to her knowledge. So long as Kenneth is looking for the old wings, it should only take a glance to be convinced that she doesn't have them.

She studies his face for his reaction, keeping a smirk carefully away from her face. She ties the necklace back around her neck, giving him a sympathetic shrug. "Sorry."

Kenneth stared intently at Shayera as she removed the necklace. He thought he saw some movement, some type of shifting, but he couldn't be sure.

#$%@, I must have been wrong about the necklace. But I know it's her, it has to be, there are just too many coincidences otherwise. I really only have one more play.

"You're right. I won't give up on this. I still think you're Wingblade, but I guess I don't have a leg to stand on." Kenneth's gaze fell back to the multitool in his hands. With a quick flick of the wrist he slid it back across the table to Shayera.

"You deserve the truth, no more games. That is my multitool, but I can't take it back. I left it behind breaking into Reaver Industries recently. I didn't cause the damage that occurred, but I was involved. I went there to reveal the evil that they are hiding there, and what attacked us certainly qualified, but I was forced to leave empty-handed. Feel free to turn me in to your father, you have the proof that I clearly lack. But I didn't call you out as Wingblade for that, I did it because I need to ask for her help."

When he finally met Shayera's eyes again, Apex had a resigned expression. "I need to meet with someone, but I don't feel comfortable doing it without back up. I don't know who else I can trust. If you are who I think you are, I'll try to set the meeting for midnight on Friday, at Midtown park by the Defenders Monument. And if you're not, I guess the police will pick me up before then."

With a wry shrug, Kenneth stood and made his way out of the study room.

Shayera sits silent and wide-eyed as Kenneth confesses to breaking into Reaver Industries. He was there? she thinks, wondering how she hadn't smelled him. Except that, if he had gotten away before whatever blast had wrecked the place, there was a very good chance that his scent had been scoured away by the force of it.

She watches him stand up and leave without expression, not sure if she should respect his doubling-down on his gamble that she really was Wingblade. It was terribly reckless, since if he'd been wrong, he really would have been feeding himself to the sharks. Well, if her father also was the bad guy that everyone seemed to believe he was.

Before Kenneth is out of earshot, she pulls out her phone and hits a button. After a couple rings, he's able to hear, "Hey, Portia? My afternoon suddenly opened up. You still doing the after school mani-pedi party? Cool. I'll see you there? Great. No, nothing major. No, Kenneth didn't-- Look, it's fine. I don't wanna talk about it. OK. See you..."

===================
===================

Shayera was still inspecting the glossy lacquer on her nails when the elevator doors open to her apartment. She looks up with a start to see Whippoorwill's stern glare for being nearly a half hour late.

"Sorry!" she starts, moving straight toward her bedroom and away from the withering stare.

"New nail polish? Is that what's so important to you now that you're twenty-three minutes late for your exercises?"

Wingblade spins around and holds out her hands. "It was a full manicure and pedicure, thank you! And it was to keep my secret identity a secret! A kid at school pretty much guessed who I am!" She sticks a pink-tipped finger at her temple and crosses her eyes. "So I went, like, all ditzy, you know? Like, omigawd, can you believe this color?"

Whippoorwill folds her arms across her chest, scowling. "I'm not sure I agree with this 'persona' of yours."

Shayera rolls her eyes and retreats into her cavernous bedroom. While she starts changing clothes, she hollers out, "Well, it's working better than being miss wallflower. I'm starting to actually make friends."

"Are they really friends, or are they paying attention to you just because you're rich now?"

Shayera pauses for a moment in the middle of pulling on her exercise tank top. She frowns, shrugs, then finishes getting changed. "I don't know. I mean, most of the kids wouldn't even talk to me after that thing with Jeremy."

Wingblade steps out of her bedroom to see Whippoorwill looking at her with a seriously troubled expression. Several admonishments die on her mentor's tongue before she finally sighs. "Look, things are moving really fast for you right now, and I'm worried you're going to miss what's really important. Can you at least promise me you'll be smart about all this?"

The protege throws up her manicured hands. "I'm trying! But this kid was good! I make one slip, and he's all, 'you're Wingblade, and I thought Whippoorwill would have trained you better.'" she says, affecting a lower pitch to her voice to imitate him.

Whippoorwill begins putting the younger hero through some preparatory stretches and warmups. While they start going through various centering martial forms, she arches an eyebrow. "So who is this kid?"

"Kenneth Gray. Apparently he-- well, he's done his research into heroes. Even knew I had super senses."

The Defender tilts her head and interrupts the kata the two are performing. "Kenneth Gray? Show me."

Wingblade moves over to Abacus and punches in a few keystrokes, calling up a video still of the time she tagged his face at the track meet to get his social media profile. Kenneth's face flashes up on one of the big screens.

Whippoorwill whistles and chuckles to herself. "Ratchet and Trauma's boy! He's grown."

"Who?"

"Oh, those are just their code names from a while back. Kenneth's mom and dad. Super hero support. They left the business some time ago, I think, but they're good people. Whetstone still takes his car to her for tune-ups."

Wingblade's face whips back and forth between the image on the screen and her mentor. "So, you think he can be trusted? Since I *think* he might be getting into something over his head. Unless he has powers. Does he have powers?"

Whippoorwill shakes her head while her eyes study Kenneth's picture. "Not that I've heard. Though, come to think of it, he might be in the game already. Everything seems to match. Yep, I'm almost sure of it."

The protege clears her throat. "Care to clue me in?"

Whippoorwill smiles at her. "Nope. You know how it is. Someone else's secret identity is not something we tell others. If he decides to tell you, then you'll know."

Shayera rolls her eyes as she follows her mentor back to the training area. Great. Looks like I know where I'll be Friday night. As they take up their positions for a sparring match, she flashes her nails to Whippoorwill and sticks out her tongue. "Watch the paint. I've got a secret identity to maintain."

Good thing I double checked which midnight he meant! Guess that shows he's not clued in about magic-y stuff. If he were he'd know that Midnights Matter.

Bronwyn had been slightly weirded out when Kenneth had picked Monument Park for their meeting place. The same place Shayera invited me to show me she was a hero, the same place we met after she came back...

Not that he knows! There's no way she'd tell him that stuff, no matter how much time they're spending in tutoring. Probably she wouldn't want to come anyways. Unless she's added a mask to her costume, it would pretty much instantly out her to him as Wingblade....

I have to bring someone though. I said team, and I'll feel silly showing up all alone. Maybe...?
This is not my best plan.
But it's not like she'll know she's spending time with me...

Bronwyn tried not to leave any text-trails that were too explicitly about super hero stuff, but she figured she could keep this discrete enough.

Bronwyn: Hey Skuld, remember that guy we met on our trip to the lab? The one with the pale face and the attitude?

Bronwyn: Shock and awe optional ;)

That night

Bronwyn had been to this park a bunch, but never as Bran.

He kinda fit in.

He seemed more to scale here, surrounded by the statues of heroes who had been larger than life themselves.

Even his armor, his spear seemed less anachronistic standing next to those who had given their lives in decades past. He had shared no words with any of them, but they had a kinship nonetheless.

The honored dead were easy companions for Bran the Blessed.

He waited amongst them, making no attempt at concealment, starlight and the low-burning illumination of the fountain clearly captured in his plate and chain.

His hauberk was whole, but he had traded his gauntlets for gloves of thick leather, and dispensed with his helm for this meeting. Repairs took time, after all, and recruitment was better served by a less battle scarred appearance.

Apex had fought bravely against Scythe at Bran and Thor Girl's side; he would know exactly where the rents and tears in Bran's armor came from, but this park had enough reminders of the grim cost this life could ask.

Kenneth scowled down at his phone. After Bronwyn had confirmed the time with him, he realized what he had done.

Meeting scheduled for 12:01 AM tonight, not tomorrow. Midnight referred to AM time.

The text was embarrassing, but he'd been so caught up in getting out of the study room he had forgotten to correct his habit of referring to midnight as a morning time rather than a night time. Tapping the green button on his phone the message sent off to Shayera.

==========

Jogging through the park, Apex kept glancing up at the sky. A part of him warned that she wouldn't be here. The far more analytical part told him she could fly fast enough that she certainly wouldn't be here now. He had parked his car opposite the monument, leaving space to protect his cover identity in case something broke out. He knew exactly how long it took him to cross the park and planned to arrive just as the days changed.

He controlled his pace down the park pathway, nerves pushing him to sprint. He could have used the trees on the sides for cover, but decided against it. He always had that option later and his white mask would reveal his presence quickly to anyone with remotely heightened senses anyway.

Why am I doing this meeting? To protect Bronwyn? To get backup? To replace Finn? And what was I thinking pulling that stunt with Shayera? Even if she does show, can I really trust her? This is a mess and I should go back home now. I don't need whatever this team is and they certainly don't deserve me.

He felt his phone vibrate once, confirming his estimates that midnight had arrived, as he turned the last corner and got a full view of the monument.

"Well, well. Bran the Blessed. Can't say I'm really surprised, but #%&* this is going to be awkward." Apex slowed to a walk, letting his dry voice close the distance between them first.

Skuld saw Bronwyn's message, and decided to attempt something a bit more discrete: she would work on her secret identity.

YES, I WILL BE THERE. came the reply.

She couldn't really do anything about her hair, but she tied it in a bun in the back and put on a dark hoodie she had gotten from the school that matched her jeans. pulling the hood up, she travelled from her lodgings to the monorail station, then boarded the monorail and took it to the monument stop. She read a book to pass the time, and before long arrived at her station.

Disembarking, she walked through the mostly deserted streets towards the monument, adopting the posture of the people around her: not making eye contact or saying anything, and either looking ahead or at the ground.

Skuld chose the latter.

It wasn't long before the massive statue garden came into view, and Skuld began looking around. She heard a loud voice she thought she recognized up ahead, and decided to stay quiet for the moment to see what happened.

She knew that Bran could take care of himself.

Wingblade lands hard on her balcony's floor and slips inside, anxious for a quick rinse-off and then bed. She had a long day tomorrow -- one that she'd been looking forward to all week. After school, she, Bronwyn and Skuld would be attacking the highest fashion boutiques with abandon, then returning here so she could show off her new apartment. Then, once that was all finished, she'd go stealthily to check up on Kenneth and whatever mess he was getting himself into.

She moves past the kitchen and makes a quick detour to grab a water bottle. The nightly patrol hadn't been the most action-packed she'd ever experienced, but she and Whippoorwill had still managed to rescue a half dozen people from a fire in a high-rise building and broke up a small turf war. She was tired.

The blinking of her cell phone catches her eye. While draining the water bottle, she snatches it up with her free hand and thumbs it on. A message flashes on it.

Meeting scheduled for 12:01 AM tonight, not tomorrow. Midnight referred to AM time.

"Sh--!" Wingblade shouts to her empty apartment as she sees that she'll never make it there in time. A moment of hesitation strikes her. All I'll be doing is proving him right anyway, so maybe I shouldn't go? She shakes her head free from that thought. He could be getting into trouble. Seems like the type.

She races back out to the balcony and leaps from the skyscraper, stretching her wings and letting gravity boost her speed. When she pulls out of her dive and angles toward the Park, she puts her wings to work while her hands begin typing on the phone.

李秀英: Whatev. Dont get muggd

==================
==================

When the spotlights of Monument Park come into view, Wingblade puts several hard beats into her flight to gain altitude. She banks, trying to keep from getting caught in the glow of the flood lamps. She circles the park from a good distance, then drops from the air into a dark patch of landscaping and behind a half-finished statue that hasn't been illuminated yet.

Her landing spooks an owl which flies off in search of a less crowded perch, but is otherwise relatively silent. She stays deep in the shadows and stretches her senses to listen in on this meeting of Kenneth's.

Bran tilted his head quizzically. "Why do you expect this to be awkward?" he rumbled, "Your skills and resolve are impressive, and your observations were keen, though misapplied.

"Anyone who would stand against a foe as deadly as Scythe has earned a measure of my respect."

The demigod looked levelly at Apex's mask.

"Do I not have yours?"

Apex bobbed his head from side to side noncomittally. It was hard to emote properly with the mask on. Which was the point he supposed, but it didn't help now.

"That's why this is awkward. I appreciate what you did at Reaver. You stuck around when I couldn't. But for me, respect has to go beyond what happens in a fight."

Apex continued his approach until he was close enough that he wouldn't be casually overheard. When he next spoke, his voice was a low hiss.

"The girl who brought us here, do you even know what you're doing to her? She helps you somehow and in return you can't even protect her properly. The strength she has now, the endurance, I don't know if you did it to her intentionally or not. And I don't know which would be worse. At least if it was an accident I could just call you an idiot and walk away, but if it was intentional? You may have cost her her future as an athlete and for what? A little strength and endurance wouldn't protect her from something like Scythe, like that demon you fought."

Apex took a deep breath to steady himself. He hadn't been certain of what to expect, but he hadn't intended to do that.

"But that's not why I'm here tonight. I'm here because she thought that I could help you. And her I do respect."

She's not a demon.

He tried to keep his face still and placid while Apex spoke, but a little heat entered his gaze nonetheless.

"I appreciate your concern for my acolyte, but you make fast your assumptions before you could possibly speak from a place of wisdom."

His voice still proceeded at a measured pace, but there was a growing sense to it of momentum, of the first falling rocks that herald an avalanche.

"She has chosen, just as I have, to do what is in our power to defend the defenseless, to stand against the darkness, and to comfort the afflicted. Will you answer the call as well?"

Is he building a superhero team or a pantheon?

Despite his wry thought, Apex nodded. "I will and I do. But we need to keep one thing clear. I stand on my own two feet, I don't need your power, and I don't want it. If I am to fight by your side, it needs to be as my own man. Is that understood?"

He knew this wasn't the end of the argument, but Apex saw that he would be stronger, more effective, better working alongside Bran and his companions than he could be on his own. With nothing else to say, he offered his hand to the armored demigod.