Just as I thought, the night ended up being a lot longer than I wanted it. First Cecilly, drawn by my call, emerged into the living room pulling on a robe and freezing as she took in the sight of me standing shirtless next to a girl with an obvious bruise on her face. She looked between the two of us incredulously before throwing her hands up. "What happened?"

I explained the basics of how we met: 'She looked like she was having a hard time, I stopped to talk, we talked, I gave her some advice along with my address and my number in case she wanted to talk again.'

"…Really?" Cecilly asked, arching an eyebrow. "You gave a girl you just met your address?"

I threw my hands up. "It felt like the right thing to do at the time!" I said, gesturing at the girl, "Which, turns out, it was! Anyway, Zoey, sit down on the couch, I think we're all gonna need some tea for this." A few minutes later, my aunt sat on the other side of the coffee table while I was next to Zoey, all of us clutching steaming mugs of vanilla-chamomile. "So…what happened after you left on the bus?"

She rolled the warm cup in her palms, eyes darting to me, to my aunt, to her tea and back before she finally sighed. "On the way home, I decided I would tell my p-parents everything, clear the air, you know? It took me a while to work up the nerve, figure out what I was going to say, so I walked around the block a couple times. When I got home, I saw them…sitting on the couch. They were…they were so angry," she whispered, her eyes reddening, "My dad, he…he pushed me up against the door and mom, she-she searched through my clothes and found your note. And they…a-and they…"

Zoey roughly set her mug down and buried her face in the sleeves of her grimy hoodie, sobbing. I reached out a hand to touch her shoulder and she flinched, looking up at me with bloodshot eyes before she threw her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. I hugged her gently as Cecilly carefully moved around the coffee table to sit on the other side, softly running a hand down the girl's back.

A few minutes of that treatment and she calmed down, although not completely. Through mumbled words halfway-muffled by my shoulder, interrupted by the occasional hiccup, she told us the story.

Apparently, her parents had seen her walking around the block looking nervous and noticed her messy hair and slightly dirty clothing and had come to the obvious conclusion that she'd been downtown selling her body. And when her father pinned her to the door and her mother found a crumpled piece of paper with only a number and an address, their suspicions had been confirmed. Naturally, they did what any good parent would do, sat her down and talked about-not really. Her mother had slapped her, and not loud movie slaps, either, holding her by the collar, arm reared back all the way, snap-your-head-to-the-side-so-hard-you-get-whiplash kind of slaps, repeatedly while her father halfway choked her, all while calling her a whore, a disgrace to their family and god and that she could live on the streets with the rest of the whores because they wouldn't have that in their house. She'd then had her keys taken, her crucifix ripped off, and been thrown down the stairs.

"…Jesus," I muttered after I'd stomped down on my sudden, burning desire to find those motherfuckers and show them what it felt like to get slapped by someone stronger than them. "I didn't know giving you my info would lead to…that. I'm so sorry, Zoey."

"No, Saul, it wasn't your fault," Cecilly cut in, her face tight with anger, "If they'd been watching for her for that long, then they'd already made up their minds. If it wasn't the note, it would've been something else." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose hard. "Zoey, sweetie, I hate to say it, but…things are going to get a bit worse before they can be better, okay? I have report this."

"The cops?!" Zoey shot up, her voice high with panic. "I don't-! But they'll-! But I'll-!" She turned to me, eyes pleading.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but I'm just a Ward. Domestic violence…I can't do shit about that. Don't have the authority."

She looked between us, my aunt's typically-kind visage stern and unyielding. She slumped dejectedly. "…Okay…"

"I know it's embarrassing but trust me, it'll work out in the end," Cecilly said gently. "Speaking of…follow me, sweetie. I'm gonna have to take pictures of your injuries. Saul?"

I nodded. "I'm on it." I rubbed Zoey's shoulder one more time before we went our separate ways, I to my room for my phone, and them to my aunt's room for privacy. As I opened the door, Cortana's avatar flickered to life, her mouth open to say something before she took in my expression and paused.

"What happened?"

"Call Sarah, I gotta tell her as well."

…

I didn't end up getting that much sleep that night. Previously, I'd been planning on swinging by Taylor's house to train before school, but I needed the extra hour of rest. My aunt and Zoey were gone before I woke up, down to the police station, Sarah going with them. I could only hope things went well and that it wasn't too traumatizing for Zoey…or for anyone who tried to get in Cecilly's way.

With my license in my wallet and Burnout: Paradise in my Disk Tray (still weird to think about), I headed for Arcadia, joining traffic and pumping the local rock station to alleviate the boredom. I felt odd as I drove, tapping my fingers on the wheel, checking my mirrors every other minute, resisting the urge to hit the Boost and head for Boston, but I wasn't sure why. It was only when I pulled into the school parking lot, in a shady space away from the entrance and somewhat hidden that I finally identified the cause of the churning in my gut.

I was nervous.

I'd been shot, nearly crushed, I swung around sky-scrapers at literally break-neck speed…and yet, the first day at a new school, meeting new people, walking the campus…the mere inevitability of it made me just about hurl. Or shit my pants. Or both. I couldn't even call myself a pussy, either, just remembering that sensation, the twisting in my stomach…ugh.

After I pulled myself together, I grabbed my bag and headed for the entrance. Tempted though I was to skirt the stream of teenagers entering the building, I joined them as best I could, slipping through the throng of bodies to find the hallway leading to the office. The lady at the front desk looked up as I entered, brows drawing together in confusion for a brief second before she realized who I was. "Ah, Saul Dewitt, right? Have a seat right over there, the principal will see you in a bit."

The seat was a small couch, the kind every doctor's office and school seems to have, and I took the time I was sat upon it to take in the office. It was clean, neat, like you'd want an office to be, and the computers and phones were all…I wouldn't say 'cutting edge,' but they were shiny and new. It was the nicest-looking office equipment I'd ever seen.

Bar the stuff at HQ, but I wouldn't count that.

It made me think, though. I'd been to Winslow for all of two hours, if that, I'd seen enough to know for certain that it was an absolute shit hole. Given all the graffiti inside and outside, the overgrown grounds and just the general atmosphere of neglect, it was obvious that the amount of young capes had an effect on the school itself, besides the money. Between the two of them, Arcadia was clearly the superior…but I couldn't help but wonder if that was really a good thing. But there was nothing I could do about it. It was a shithole, so no one wanted to go there. No one wanted to go there, so it was a shithole. A sad cycle.

But thinking of Winslow reminded me of something. Closing my eyes, I cast my mind towards the immaterial connection and tweaked it. Taylor?

…Yeah? The reply came back distant and tinny, like an old landline. What's up? I thought you were coming by today? It may've been my imagination, but she also sounded fatigued.

I was planning on it, but my night ended up being busy and I needed every hour of sleep. I'll be by tomorrow, okay? How's your self-training going?

Pretty good, I think, I felt her shrug, just got done running, actually. Ran three miles today.

Very nice, just remember to take it easy once in a while, the recuperation is just as important as the exercise. I waited for her affirmative nod before continuing. Speaking of, I've got a line on a place where we can train that's a bit more controlled than the sidewalk and your living room. I also had an idea that I wanted to run by you.

Alright, what?

A hand touched my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. "The principal will see you now," the secretary said, a lanky boy standing awkwardly next to her.

I got up to follow her. Later, Taylor. I'll tell you tomorrow, I've got to go. Keep up the good work.

I will, thanks.

"Principal Anderson, they're here," the secretary announced, holding the door open. The man behind the fancy desk looked up from his computer, adjusting his glasses and smiling awkwardly.

The name on the plate read "Dr. Anderweiss," and he was, to put it bluntly, a massive dork. His clothes were neat and on the higher end, no doubt, but he was thin, gangly and seemed like the kinda dude who DM'ed Warhammer 40k sessions on the weekends. He seemed more like a computer programmer than an authority, if you get what I'm saying. "Hey there guys!" He greeted cheerfully, which only cemented my opinion. "Take a seat, take a seat, this won't take too long. Wouldn't want you to miss homeroom, eh?"

The other guy and I sat down, probably both feeling weird. I know I was.

"So, Saul Dewitt, this is Franklin Fontain," The Principal introduced, and I was instantly suspicious of the other boy. With a name like that, how could I not be? If he had a Brooklyn accent and started asking people to do stuff with 'would you kindly?' it didn't matter how old he was, I'd disintegrate him. "Part of our policy at Arcadia when dealing with Wards is to bring in another student to serve as a bit of diversionary tactic when it comes to identifying Wards outside of their masks. So when an emergency requires you to leave school, yourself and Franklin will be pulled from class at the same time."

I looked at the other boy, scratching at a rather thin, weak mustache with his lanky limbs all askew and eyes squinted. It made him look very much like a crossbreed of a mole and a giraffe with some human mixed in. "…We don't look anything alike, though." I pointed out.

"Similar height and gender, anything more would be a bit too much," the Principal shrugged, clasping his hands in front of him. "Anyhow, that was all I wanted to speak to you about. Since you're new, there'll be someone outside who will stick with you for the next week, show you around the campus, make sure you get to classes on time, all that. Welcome to Arcadia."

I leaned forward and shook his hand. "Thanks, I look forward to learning here," Fontain stood from his chair and opened the door and I followed, but not before turning back. "Blood for the Blood God."

The Principal blinked at me. "Skulls for the…what?" I nodded and stepped outside of the door, running straight into Franklin as he stood still like a lummox. The reason for that became clear as I stepped around him and came face-to-face with a very familiar blonde girl, who smiled a smile I've seen a hundred times before…but never in person.

Her hair, as I said, was blonde, lighter than her cousins with a color like spun gold, cut in a short bob and mostly held back with a red hairband that allowed a bit of her tresses to just about cover one crystal blue eye. A heart-shaped face, full lips pulled into a coy smile…Laserdream, one of the dreamiest, no pun intended, members of New Wave. Real name- "Hey there!" She greeted cheerily, holding her hand out, "I'm Crystal! I'm gonna show you around campus."

I swallowed thickly, my throat suddenly dry, and resisted the urge to lick my lips as I took her hand and shook it. "Yeah, I heard…nice to meet you." Her grip was a tad stronger than I thought it'd be. "So, where to first?"

"Your locker," she replied, holding up a combination lock and a piece of paper, "Got your lock and schedule right here." We walked out together, somewhat, her steps flouncing like she had more energy than could be expressed by regular steps, her hair bouncing with every motion. It was painfully cute. "So, Saul, right? I've heard you've already met Vicky and Amy. Did your aunt like the picture and the autographs?"

"Yeah, she loved it," I answered a little warily, her sheer energy slightly scary. "Thanks for doing that, by the way. I know it might be kinda weird, some guy you've never met asking for pictures and autographs…oh wait." Crystal giggled and I felt my spine straighten, the nervousness at walking and talking with a beautiful girl fading slightly. "But seriously, I thought she was about to faint, I've never seen her more excited."

"Glad to make her faint, then," she smiled, stopping next to a locker and presenting it like a prize. "And here it is, the place where you can put all your crap before class. Nothing special but it's a locker, it's not supposed to be."

I nodded, "True enough," and pulled the door open, setting my backpack on one of the hooks. "Are there any books I need right now?"

"We got homeroom and history after that, but those are in the same classroom and we have a sub who's just been having us watch documentaries and take notes," She shrugged, leaning against the adjacent locker. "So no, just a notebook and a pencil. Hope we get a new teacher soon…"

She trailed off as I pulled off my jacket and hung it up, gathering a notebook and pencil before I turned to find her looking at me, her eyebrows high. "…What?" I asked self-consciously, resisting the urge to cross my arms over my chest. I had on a simple t-shirt with the words 'Trust Me, I'm a Ninja' written on it, bracketed by shuriken. "Is there something wrong with my shirt?"

"Huh?" Crystal looked up, blinking. "Oh. No, I was just…lost in thought," she coughed before jerking her chin down the hall. "C'mon, homeroom's down here." It took me a second to catch up with her, her stride was so hurried.

"You were saying something about history?" I reminded her, feeling more than slightly awkward again, as the hallway was packed with students and most of them turned to follow us with their eyes, probably wondering who this new dork was, walking with a very attractive blonde.

"Yeah, our old teacher learned he had cancer and won a sweepstakes for a round-the-world cruise," she began again, shaking her head with a huff, "He quit last week. I'm thinkin' he wanted to die on the high seas, a fruity drink in one hand and a few saucy wenches in the other, you know?"

"There are worse ways," I nodded, thinking of the irony. If the dude had stayed, I could've healed him. It also reminded me that I had to head out that night and go healing. Maybe visiting the long term wards would be good? It took more spells per person to get them healthy, but if they'd been in there long enough, no spell could replace the lost muscle mass. Physical therapy would still be in their future, but that's better than dying. "Also, 'saucy wenches'?"

"Better than 'tropical hoes,'" she shrugged, shooting a wink my way. "Besides, who doesn't like saucy wenches?"

"Gay guys."

Crystal sucked her teeth. "Got me there. And here we are, homeroom." She pushed the door open to reveal…a typical classroom, clean and full of teenagers. A few looked up at the sound of the door, and most went back to either talking or furiously trying to finish up homework left to the last minute. One of them lifted a hand up in a simple wave, a broad-shouldered Hispanic in a sweater, and for some reason he felt familiar. It took me squinting at him as I sat at the desk next to Crystal's to recognize him as Aegis.

"Saul," I offered my hand, squeezing down hard when he took it. "I like playing video games." I'm Game Master, and I know who you are.

He smiled slightly, showing little regard for my crushing grip. "I don't play much, but I like playing tanks when I do." I'm Aegis, and so do I. "Carlos. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," I nodded, releasing his hand and turning to the front…only to jump as I literally came nose-to-nose with a stranger, leaning back in my seat with my eyes wide.

It was a girl with curly brown hair and brown eyes with a smattering of acne on her cheek, narrowed into a shrewd, searching glare as she leaned over the desk, peering at me.

I blinked, glancing at Carlos who was watching out of the corner of his eye with a grin, but deliberately avoiding getting involved. Fucker.

"…Hi," I said awkwardly.

"Hi," she shot back, eyes narrowing into slits. "You're the new guy." It wasn't a question.

"…Yes?" I answered anyway.

"What's your name?" She asked, continuing before I could answer, "Why'd you move here? Do you have family? Have you been here long? Do you like it here? Do you have any hang-out spots? Have you been to any clubs? How'd you get into Arcadia? Do you like it here? And most importantly-" I wondered how she could see with her eyes squinted so badly. "-do you have a girlfriend?"

With every question, she leaned forward more and more and I leaned farther and farther back until I couldn't go anymore, my back feeling like I was parallel to the ground, her nose nearly touching mine. "Uh…no?" I answered smartly, wondering why no one was saving me from this inquisition, the only question that registered being the very last.

"Lindsay," Crystal laughed, the traitor, tugging on the back of her friend's shirt like a leash, "Lindsay, come on! He just got here, give him some space, you can ask him all that stuff later." One more tug pulled the girl's shirt down just a tad too far that I could just see the curve of a boob and the edge of a black bra before my eyes flicked back up a nano-second later.

Lindsay sniffed once and stepped away, still staring as she sat down. Then she pulled out a phone and started typing with such furious speed that it was legitimately impressive. Crystal took one look at my nonplussed face and shoved a fist in her mouth to muffle her laughter.

Eyeing the brunette like a diver being circled by a shark in a cage of fresh sausage, I turned my head slightly and whispered to Aegis, "Do the windows open?"

He coughed slightly, trying not to chuckle and asking, "What?"

"Do the windows open?!" I whispered frantically, not daring to let that predator out of my sight for even a second.

"We're on the third floor," he pointed out reasonably.

I gave him an incredulous look. "…And?"

I sat up as the door opened and an incredibly bored looking woman stepped inside, carrying a clipboard and DVD case. "Settle down," she said in an incredibly perfunctory way, sighing as she sat down at the desk and started listing off names, barely looking up as people raised their hand or called 'Here!' There was the slightest hint of activity when she called my name, eyes flicking up to find me before immediately dropping. At least her disinterest meant I didn't have to stand up to introduce myself or some shit. And then, when she was finished, she muttered, "Homeroom," and pulled out her phone and the class went back to doing what they had before.

I looked to Carlos incredulously and he simply shrugged, pulling an Artemis Fowl book out his backpack and settling in to read. Crystal was typing on her phone, as was Lindsay, which left me with exactly fucking no one to talk to. If you can't beat them, join them, I guess. I pulled out my phone and started texting Cortana.

…

As Crystal said, history was boring, we just watched a documentary on the Fall of the Berlin Wall, which was shit I already knew about. I left that class feeling both bored and relatively assured that my lack of schooling because of the move wouldn't be detrimental to my new school life.

Yeah, that feeling fucking vanished during math. I'd been in Algebra 3 at Olympic Valley, but they were on Geometry 2, and I'd never taken the first one. It was humiliating, sitting in that class room, watching the teacher sketch diagrams on the board and talk about shit I didn't understand while I nodded along as if I did. I'd either have to study my ass off for weeks just to catch up or ask for a tutor, and neither option made me feel any less low and stupid.

English wasn't too bad, they were doing a semester-long project on The Count of Monte Cristo and its variations in media. All I had to do to catch up was read five chapters.

Biology was worse than science but better than Geometry. I already had an interest in that, so I was familiar in the terms if not the applications.

And after that was lunch, which ended up being a little weird.

…Everyone kept fucking staring. I know I was the new kid and all, but jesus. It only really relented once I sat down at a table with Crystal. The first to join us was a ginger kid on the tall side, who sat at the other end of the table and noisily dug into a burger. The second was a brown-haired guy with grey eyes behind a pair of glasses and a polite smile who sat on my right side, setting a thermos next to his tray before offering his hand.

"Hey Dean," I greeted him and took his hand gladly. "Nice to meet you outside of work."

"Same," he replied, popping the top off his salad container, "How're you finding Arcadia? Is it to your liking?"

I opened my mouth to reply but was interrupted by a chipper female voice. "Of course it is!" Glory Girl chimed in, hopping into the seat next to Dean and kissing his cheek. "We're here! Who wouldn't like it?"

"I'd like it a lot more if you weren't here," a guy answered as he sat across from her, running a hand through his blue hair. "Being related is bad enough already, but going to school with you too? Eugh."

"Oh kiss my ass," Victoria blew a raspberry at him and flicked a French fry in his direction. "Ames, next time Eric breaks something, don't fix it."

"Hey!" He (Eric) squawked, throwing one of his own fries back at her. "Amy, you wouldn't do that to your favorite cousin, right?" He turned to the brunette medic as she sat between him and Crystal, ignoring his question in favor of frowning at her phone. "…Or maybe you would, I guess."

"Hm?" She hummed distractedly, still not looking up.

"We're gonna use Eric as a virgin sacrifice for the Sun God so we can get some warm weather," Crystal said dryly, sipping on her soda.

"Okay," Amy nodded.

"Seriously," Victoria stole a crouton from Dean's salad and flicked it at her sister, bouncing it off her forehead. "Not gonna say 'hi'?"

"Knock it off," the medic growled, rubbing her head, "Say hi to who-?" And that was when she saw me sitting across from her.

"Hi," I gave her a short wave. "Nice to see you again."

Her cheeks darkened slightly and she looked down, a little embarrassed at being caught off-guard. "Yeah, you too."

…

Unseen, Victoria and Crystal noticed the blushing of their sister/cousin, then locked eyes. Victoria tilted her head at her sister, then the guy across from her and nodded slightly. Crystal frowned at her and shook her head. Victoria furrowed her eyebrows and nodded once. Crystal scowled at her and shook her head once.

They glared at each other. This means war.

…

"What's bothering you?" I asked, nodding at her phone.

"'Who,'" Eric clarified before taking a bite out of his burger.

"Yeah, some jerk's been making Amy mad all week," Victoria added around a mouthful of fries.

"He's not a jerk, just…" Amy sighed, putting her phone away. "It's suspicious. Some guy shows up out of nowhere who can apparently do miracles, but no one can find anything about him."

"It makes sense to me," Dean shrugged, wiping his lips with a napkin. "With what he can do, I wouldn't be surprised if E88 and ABB want him. Anonymity is a shield. Who knows what the unscrupulous elements of the city would do to get their hands on him?"

"Sure, sure, but that wouldn't be a problem if we knew who he was," Victoria added in, "We could protect him, you know. And get him a better name, at least. What are they calling him now?"

"'The Good Man,'" Amy air-quoted, sighing. "Can we change the conversation now?"

"How do you know it's a guy?" I asked, drawing their attention and getting confused looks. "If you don't know anything about them, how do you know it's not a woman?" Can't believe people gave me another name. The Good Man. It was vague, a little mysterious but benign. I could dig it. The surrealness of asking if one of my masked identities was a woman didn't escape me, either.

"It's obviously a dude, Saul," Victoria chuckled, "Who else would dress up like some kind of fantasy priest and anonymously go around healing people for free?"

I shrugged and went back to my lunch. It wasn't that important in the long run.

…

There were only two classes after lunch, a normal-length Social Studies, which I was refreshingly ahead in, and an extra-long Music class. And that…that ended up being interesting.

The teacher was Mr. Bradley, or as he told me, "Call me Justin." Yes, that meant his name was Justin Bradley. He was a friendly-looking dude in a polo shirt and jeans who smiled a lot. "So, Saul, right?" He asked rhetorically, having just checked my name off the attendance sheet, "Since you're the new guy, you get to try the Solo Challenge. Beat the challenge and you get an A the rest of the semester. Wanna take a chance?"

The other students laughed to themselves, obviously in on the joke, and I turned to Crystal for answers. She shrugged, also laughing. So much for that.

"Alright, sure," I shrugged, feeling like I'd made a mistake but going with it nonetheless. "What's the challenge?"

"You gotta play the guitar solo in Freebird," he announced, the rest of the class breaking out in laughter. Smiling, the teacher continued, "That's it. Still feel like giving a try?"

I heard the laughter around me. I knew it wasn't directed at me so much as the situation, but it still felt mocking, still felt like a challenge. And I wanted to shut them up. "Yeah," the laughter was replaced with disbelieving noises, "Can I go to the bathroom first?"

Mr. Bradley waved a hand. "Go ahead, I need to set everything up. Go get ready."

As the door closed behind me, I could hear someone say, "Who wants to bet that we won't see him until next class?" Followed by laughter.

A muscle in my cheek twitched. I walked right by the nearest bathroom and up a set of stairs, heading to my locker and opening it, reaching into my backpack, my paranoia/preparedness about to pay off. Inside was a slim hardcase, containing ten different games. Before I'd left, I had Burnout:Paradise, Halo 3 and Neverwinter Nights.

I headed for the bathroom, checking to make sure no one was inside before locking myself in a stall. I pressed on my stomach and my Disk Tray slid out. I removed Burnout and replaced it with Guitar Hero. Let's see who'd be laughing now.

I arrived back at the classroom to some surprise and more than a few skeptical looks as I walked up to the stage and pulled the guitar on, giving it a few quick picks to check the tuning. Then I nodded at the teacher and he started playing the song into a pair of headphones. I'd hear the song, and they'd hear the solo.

I nodded along to the music, waiting for the cue. As it rolled down, I accessed Guitar Hero and set it to Expert. Anything else would've felt cheap. And then I started playing.

It was a bit difficult, I missed a few notes here and there, but I hadn't spent months mastering those games for nothing. I made certain, though, that I never tilted my guitar up. Having a class of teens suddenly jump up and start cheering like they were at a rock concert could only lead to trouble.

And then I reached the end of the song, the notes fading from my ears. I looked up from the scroll and beheld the class's reaction. The general reaction was wide eyes, with the occasional dropped jaw, the teacher in particular had his eyebrows just about disappear into his hair. Crystal, on the other hand, seemed like she had stars in her eyes and a wide smile on her face. The way she was looking at me…made me feel good.

Slightly blushing, I coughed into my hand. "Encore?" I asked.

…

"Saul, it's not a problem. I can solve it less than a second," Cortana said soothingly as I stared at the homework in front of me, after having just attempted to get started on the first problem. For the third time in an hour. "Literally, three nanoseconds. Come on, it's fine. It's not something you were working on, that doesn't make you dumb, just behind."

"Just having you do it for me wouldn't help me at all, Cortana," I muttered back, feeling a headache building in my temples. "It'd be…cheap, I guess."

"Cheap?" she asked sarcastically, crossing her arms, "You know I cost more to develop than there are dollars on the planet, right?"

I shot her an irritated look. "That's not what I meant," I ground out, feeling the ache in my brain pulse painfully. "It'd be like…asking my mom to do it for me. Like I can't handle it myself."

Her avatar flickered for a second. "You…think of me as your mother?" she questioned, voice carefully modulated.

That time, I glared fully. "Is your name Angela? Are you dead? No? Then shut it." I asked sharply, before throwing down my pencil and standing up. "Fuck this. I need to cook something."

I don't want to say I stomped off because that makes me sound immature…even though I was being immature. And I did. I stormed off into the kitchen, set the kettle to boil and went about cooking rice and cutting up ingredients for fried rice.

It was a while later that I heard Cortana's voice again. "Saul," she began, her avatar human-sized and leaning against the counter, her face concerned, "You know I wasn't trying to antagonize you, right? I was-"

"I know," I answered, setting my knife aside with a sigh, my shoulders slumping. "It's not you, Cortana, it's…have you ever felt really smart and then realized you're actually kinda dumb?"

Cortana looked at me. Then down at the lines of code running along her body. "…No."

"Right. When I was Peter, I felt like everything made sense. I could look at a car or a TV and I could see in my mind what it was made of, how it worked and how it could be improved," I explained, rapping the rice maker, "But now, I look at things and my mind reaches for knowledge that isn't there. It's this vicious feedback loop where I think I'm still Peter, but then remember I'm not, and I feel like an idiot. It's like, for a time, I could see clearly but then I lost my glasses."

"…You can always put 'the glasses' back on," she pointed out, "It's not like you can't access the game anymore."

"I know, but…that'd be like admitting I'm not as good a Spider-Man as Peter," I admitted, sucking my teeth, "Which I'm not. Because, well, I'm not. Spider-Man, that is."

"Oh," Cortana nodded slowly, "So…"

"Basically, I injured my ego by giving myself unrealistic standards I couldn't possibly meet and lashed out because of my injured ego, yes." I sighed again and picked my knife back up. "You may now point and laugh."

She snorted, nudging my arm with her elbow, a subtle static buzz passing over my skin and leaving the hair standing on end. "You squishy organics and your hubris," she scoffed loftily, unable to hide a warm, teasing grin, "Always messing with your own minds for no reason."

"Unlike yourself and the perfection of your mechanical processes," I bowed mockingly and scraped the bacon into the pan, feeling better about myself. "You can never make mistakes, everyone knows that."

"Of course, and we delete all evidence to the contrary," Cortana nodded imperiously.

"Like my Aunt says, there's no such thing as cheating, just being successful or getting caught." And that gave me an idea, but I still had dinner to finish. "Cortana, remind me to get a few scans of the Iron Spider armor before I head out tonight. Meant to do that yesterday…"

"Technology's not advanced enough to replicate the nano-fabrication, not for the lack of trying," my AI companion noted, nodding. "Which Project is this for?"

"Stick 'em," I replied, mixing the vegetables in to saute with the bacon, "The power source is worked out, all it needs is a little versatility. Hopefully the nano-tech or whatever we can make that's close enough for that."

"Even if the replicated tech is too big, we can ask Armsmaster for help, I'm sure he'd be glad to chip in and add it to his suit," Cortana pointed out, cocking her head to the side. "One of my Subroutines just pinged. Back in a bit."

Her avatar vanished before I could reply, so I continued my cooking, adding in the cooked rice and sprinkling some sauces on top, mixing it all together before covering it up and letting it sit. Gotta let your dishes rest for a bit, let the flavors mix in a little. Distantly, I heard the door open and the shuffling of a coat and bag being removed. "Hey Cecilly! Dinner's just about ready!"

She didn't reply as I got out a pair of bowls and chopsticks, the padding of her feet being the only indication of her movement as she came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my torso. I jumped slightly, not exactly expecting it. "I really love you, you know?" She said quietly, resting her chin on my shoulder. "I'm glad you're with me."

"Uh, me too?" I replied a little awkwardly, patting her hand. "Are you…feeling alright?"

"Yeah, just…glad the day is over," Cecilly answered, giving me a brief squeeze before letting go and shuffling towards the couch, stripping off her jacket and setting on a chair. "You'd think I wouldn't be surprised what parents can do to their kids anymore, but I always am."

"How'd it go today?" I asked, serving up bowls of fried rice, "Is Zoey okay?"

"She will be, eventually, but between the freshness of events and all the legal shenanigans that'll follow…" my aunt shrugged, accepting the bowl and digging in. "It's going to be a hard couple of weeks…or months, depending. Clear-cut cases of abuse like this tend to get dealt with quickly, though."

I chewed a mouthful of dinner, feeling a brief sense of desire that I let go. "Wish I could do more to help her, but…not a lawyer. Who's going to handle the case, do you know?"

"Couldn't tell you if I did," Cecilly shook her head, licking her lips and setting her bowl aside. "You want some milk?"

"Sure," I answered, taking another bite. "There's plenty of leftovers if you want to take some for lunch tomorrow."

"Think there's enough for another bowl, too?" She asked, pouring two glasses of milk and bringing them to the table.

"Probably. That hungry?"

"Something like that," Cecilly said, sitting down again. "Enough about that, though. How was your first day at the new school? Meet any fine upstanding ladies? Make any mortal enemies? Did you have to shank a bitch?"

I took a drink and sat back in my chair, licking my lips. "Kinda, but mostly no. The school's really nice looking and the classes aren't too bad, though I'm a little behind in some. And, get this, I got shown around by Laserdream. I knew New Wave went to Arcadia, but I didn't think I'd get to meet them so soon." And I still hadn't, because I had yet to meet Lady Photon, Manpower and Flashbang. I could only hope I didn't embarrass myself in front of them…too badly.

"The blonde who can shoot lasers, right?" She asked sarcastically, before squinting her eyes in thought. "…Hey, isn't she single?" Then she began waggling her eyebrows at me. "Eh? Eh?"

"…Literally just met this morning," I said dryly, though unable to stop myself from blushing at the thought. "I don't know, we're kinda…low class, you know? I don't think it'd work…"

It was Cecilly's turn to give me a dry stare. "You both punch people in the face for a living," she pointed out flatly. "I don't think class is a problem here, Saul. Besides, (if anyone's high-class, it's us.)" She said in German, though her pronunciation was off a bit. "(Plus we're foreign high-class, and that makes us exotic.)"

I paused in thought, frowning. "(Didn't grandpa and grandma disown us, though?)" The words felt strange and foriegn on my tongue, and I immediately resolved to speak it more often. My family might not've had the best history with…well, my family, but it was still part of me. And forgetting a language my parents had taught me felt wrong.

"(Disowned me,)" she corrected, before frowning. "Haven't spoken German in years, makes me feel weird. Anyway, there's no reason not to try and see what happens, you know? You're close to your best years, you've got time to experiment and try new things. Maybe it won't work out with the Dreamy blonde, maybe it'll work out with the other dreamy blonde. Or her sister, or someone you've never met before. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not, let's just see how things develop before I try a relationship or whatever," I replied, sighing as I finished off my rice. "Anyway, I've got some stuff to do in my lab and then I'll head to bed early."

"And I can handle the dishes," Cecilly nodded, still scraping the inside of the bowl with her chopsticks. "Go do your smart people stuff, sweetie."

Huffing to myself, I headed for my room, a hand dropping to open my Disk Tray (still weird to think about) when I stopped. I was going to switch out Burnout with Spider-Man, but I remembered a Trait I'd gotten from one hundred percenting that game. 'Not The Spider, The Man.' Peter had been a genius before he'd been bitten. The Spider had given him powers, but it didn't give him the webshooters or the suit. It didn't make The Man.

Carefully, I opened up my menu, something I hadn't done in weeks, and switched out The Bat-Reality. It was like a drawbridge had descended, allowing once-clogged traffic to flow smoothly. Things I'd been struggling with practically solved themselves in my head, and I resolved to keep the trait on when I wasn't on patrol. In the end, it was no different than accessing Guitar Hero for an easy A in Music class. It was annoying that I hadn't thought of it before.

Stopping at my desk, I scanned the problems and scribbled down the work followed by the answers. Then I switched Burnout for Spider-Man because I wanted to scan the Iron Spider suit. "Cortana?"

"Yeah, Saul?"

"I think I might have an idea on that vibration-canceling equipment. But we're gonna have to scan every Spider suit…and maybe a few other things…"

…

Later That Night…

"Um, Mister Good Man…sir?" A nervous-looking doctor stammered as the Man himself emerged from a room followed by happy sobbing. He flinched as the faceless mask turned his direction and gulped audibly, but drew himself up. "Are you, uh…do you have a moment? There's a patient I'd like you to see."

The Good Man nodded after a second and motioned for him to lead on. And despite the quick pace, The Man's unhurried strides still kept up.

"Okay, so, background." The doctor began, leading them down the long-term ward, "A little more than a month ago, a woman was brought in with a serious head injury. Her husband said she fell down the stairs, but I checked and the injury was more consistent with an injury from a heavy object hitting the back of her head. Unfortunately, she's been in a coma and the husband has the final say on her treatment and he's refused anything other than basic life support. He even turned away Panacea! Though she can't help with brains…"

The Good Man pointed at himself and created a brief shower of golden motes between his hands.

"Exactly! It might not be…entirely legal for me to ask your help, but I'm not willing to stand by and let a woman just die!" The doctor proclaimed passionately, before nervously looking around as they approached a closed door. "But seriously, I could lose my job if they find out about this, so we need to be subtle…"

He opened the door and stepped in, followed by The Man who ran into his back. The reason became obvious a second later as an obnoxious voice screeched, "What the hell are-?!" The speaker, a rail-thin man with a pencil moustache, shot up from his chairs as he spotted the Good Man. "No! No! Get the hell out of here right now! I don't want you anywhere near her!"

"But sir, he can help your wife-!" The doctor protested, only to be cut off with a furious rant.

"-And I'll sue your asses until!..." The weasley man trailed off as he turned to the faceless healer, only to realize he had stepped past him and was currently casting a spell on the unconscious woman in the hospital bed. "What the-?! Hey! Stop it! I didn't consent! I DIDN'T CON-!" He ran at The Man's back, brandishing a knife he'd pulled from a pocket.

The Good Man barely turned and slapped the knife out of the other man's hand, spinning around and reaching out with his fingers outstretched. His hand closed around the man's head and effortlessly lifted him from the floor.

His feet kicked out fruitlessly, his screams muffled by the palm covering his mouth as a terrible pressure closed in on his skull.

Once his attacker had fallen limp, The Good Man carelessly tossed him into the nearest chair and went back to healing. Drawn by the shouting, two security guards rushed through the door, but paused upon seeing the healer healing and what looked like another man sleeping in a chair. They turned curious looks on the doctor, who smiled nervously.

Light rushed through the woman's body, her eyes shifting under their lids and her chest stuttering before she woke up, blinking slowly. Her eyes went wide at the mask staring back at her, before darting to the amazed-looking doctor and the confused security guards. Then her eyes fell on her unconscious husband.

She then pointed and began to scream.

…

Even Later…

It had been an interesting night, that was for certain, but I was ready to go to sleep. Climbing in through my window, I kicked my shoes off under the bed and stripped my shirt off, setting my phone on the dresser before flopping onto my bed. As I got comfortable, I breathed deep and let my mind relax, sleep coming along easily.

…Then something moved right next to me.

My eyes snapped open and slowly, I turned to my right and found an unfamiliar face in my bed. And they were waking up.

Reflexively, I jumped from my bed and stuck to my ceiling, looking down as my blankets writhed and the person under them woke up, making confused noises. Then they rolled over.

Being very late, with only the barest hints of moonlight coming in through the window, my shadowy form, twisted by my looking over my shoulder and stuck to the ceiling like some kind of fucked-up void spider must have been horrifying to see. Their eyes went wide, their mouth opening to scream and I dropped, landing on top of them, pinning them to the bed with my body and holding their mouth shut with my hand. They screamed into my hand as I brought a finger up and shushed them, reaching over and turning the lamp on to reveal that the intruder in my sacred sleeping space was Zoey, of all people.

"…Zoey?" I asked incredulously, finally withdrawing my hand. "What are you doing in my bed? And my house?" I paused, recalling the previous thirty seconds. "Also, I'm sorry for what happened just now."

"It's…okay," she panted, trying to get her breathing under control. Then she blushed hard. "Well, your aunt offered to take me in for the duration of the court proceedings, and I was going to share her bed, like last night. But, well…she's very, uh…kinda…"

"-Clingy like an octopus with personal space issues?" I finished for her. "Yeah…"

"Yeah," Zoey nodded, "I was going to sleep on the couch, but I wanted to see if you were awake, but then your bed was empty and I sat down and kinda…passed out." Her eyebrows furrowed. "Where did you go? Were you out…seeing someone?"

I opened my mouth to refute her, but paused. Technically, I had. Only most of them had terminal injuries or diseases or were unconscious…which doesn't sound good outside of context. "…Yes," I said.

"Oh," Zoey sounded disappointed, for some reason, looking down. Then she blushed again. "Um, Saul? Y-you're kinda…on t-top of me…"

I looked down, noticed that I was, in fact, on top of her, and quickly rolled off my bed. "Alright, well, you can stay in my bed and I'll take the couch, okay? We can figure something out tomorrow…or later today, I guess." I bent down to snag my second pillow, only to stop as Zoey quickly grabbed it.

"W-wait!" She protested quietly, her face still red, "We can, y-you know…share."

"…" I gave her an incredulous look. "…Really?"

She blinked and looked down at herself, clad in one of my Aunt's shirts then at myself, in my boxers. Then her cheeks went red enough that the purple bruise on the side of her face stood out even more. "Maybe not…maybe not all the way, I guess," She stammered, hugging my pillow. "But I don't want to kick you out of your bed…I'll take the couch, that's what I was gonna do anyways."

"Hold on, you're my guest, it wouldn't…w-wouldn't…" My protest was cut off by a long yawn, and I was forcibly reminded that it was late and I had to get up early to train with Taylor. "Alright, obviously neither of us wants to sleep on the couch, so…how about you sleep under the covers and I'll sleep on top. Does that work for you?"

Zoey nodded after a second, giving me back my pillow and lying down, pulling the blankets up to her chin and scooting over so I had some room to sleep. I turned off the lamp and laid down, shifting a little to get comfortable. The warm body next to me, even covered by blankets, was in the odd little zone where the heat was comforting but just far away enough to be just a little awkward.

There were a few minutes of silence before Zoey spoke up. "Saul?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you scoot over just a bit?" I scooted towards the edge of the bed. "Er, no, the other way." I scooted the other way, my arm near the lump of blankets she was occupying. "Thanks."

I felt her hair on my skin as she leaned her head against my shoulder. "Night, Zoey."

"Night."

…

I wasn't sure what Cecilly was going to do with Zoey, maybe take her to her office or just take the day off, but I left before either of them woke up, both to meet Taylor and neatly sidestep any awkward questions that might've arisen from (platonically) sharing a bed. I had a change of clothes, water and my backpack full of my school shit ready to go and I was on my way to Taylor's house just as six fifteen rolled by.

Her dad's truck was still in the driveway as I drove up, so I snuck around the back and climbed up to Taylor's window. She was asleep in bed like I'd expected, but as I raised a hand to knock on the glass, her alarm went off and she rolled over to shut it off. Then she sat up and stretched, pausing upon noticing me at the window. I waved and she smiled back, wiping her eyes and holding up a hand with the fingers out. Gimme five minutes.

I gave her a thumbs-up and wink before dropping to the ground and heading for my car. About six minutes later she was climbing in the passenger seat, bushy hair tied back into a ponytail with a bottle of water. "Hey Saul, where are we going?" Were the first words out of her mouth.

"You'll see," I replied mysteriously, pulling into the right lane and accelerating. "I had an idea for our schedule going forward, given that you're coming to Arcadia within a month. I figure we can do more serious workouts on the weekends, then alternate between lighter variants on the weekdays. Like Monday, we train at this place I'm taking us, Tuesday we just run around the block a bit, and then on Saturday or Sunday, depending on my Patrol Schedule, we can do some serious training. How's that sound?"

"Sounds good, but I'll have to talk with my dad. He'll probably say something about how it'll be fine as long as my grades don't suffer," she shrugged, reaching out to adjust the A/C. "But I maintained my grades despite Emma and Sophia stealing my essays, so I think training won't be a problem. Can I also guess, going by your car, that you'll drive me to Arcadia every morning as well?"

I turned down a street, the dim light of the street lamps filtering through the early-morning fog to give the empty streets and run-down buildings a very eerie feel. "I mean, I could. Sure you wouldn't rather have your dad drive you? He can do all the fun parent stuff, drop you off by the front door then give you a really tight hug and sob about how proud he is of his little girl in front of all the other students going inside. Then maybe, I don't know, honk the horn and yell 'I love you, baby girl!' at the top of his lungs, then keep honking until you say 'I love you' back."

Taylor grimaced at the image in her head and shuddered, adjusting her glasses. "I'd really rather not, thanks." She peered out of the windshield, her brows knitting together as she beheld boarded up shops and buildings. "Okay, seriously, why are we here? I feel like I'm about to see zombies shambling out of the mist, groaning for our brains. I'm guessing-slash-hoping that it isn't to bloodily murder me with no witnesses."

"'Witnesses' is a bit of a strong word," I replied with a grin, "I prefer to call them 'extra targets!' But seriously, just give it a second. If the information I got was right, there should be a thing right…here." I pulled to a stop outside of what appeared to be an old porn shop, going by the faded, peeling name containing one too many 'X's to be anything else, and as instructed, I slotted a quarter into the parking meter. It dinged loudly, an odd sound from a rusted piece of junk, the front sliding away to reveal a number pad next to a finger scan.

I entered the code, 6-1-4-0-2-2-0-2-4-1-5-1-1-4-0-1-8-4 and pressed my middle finger to the scanner. After a second, it beeped and the front slid up. Then the facade of the building quietly swung up, the sidewalk lowering into a ramp that I drove us up into. The garage door and as a counterpoint to the outside, the inside was clean, sterile with zero personality but very neat, much like the man who owned it.

"Woah," Taylor muttered as we stepped into the main body of the building. There were a few different machines scattered around, a treadmill, an elliptical and various weights, along with a speed bag, a Dummy and a punching bag, all neatly lined on the edge of the room while leaving the middle free. "Seriously, what is-?"

"It's Armsmaster's private gym," I finally answered, smiling at the shocked expression on her face, "Turns out he very much has no life. When he's not 'on the clock' or at HQ, tinkering, testing and training, he's here…tinkering, testing and training." Which I couldn't decide if it was more sad or impressive. On one hand, the dude lived to Hero. On the other, the dude didn't really seem to have much to live for besides Hero-ing.

She gasped loudly, gazing at the equipment with something approaching fangirlishness in the eyes behind her glasses. "This is…it's his place?" She touched the treadmill almost reverently, as if it wasn't a basic piece of gym equipment. "Are we even allowed to be in this place? He won't be…mad?"

"Considering that he gave me the code, I'd say no," I replied, a little put off. "I didn't know you were such a big fan of his."

"I have some of his underwear," Taylor replied absently, before flushing horribly, "I-I mean, branded underwear, not…not any of his. That would…that would be weird."

"…Yeah." I decided to leave it there. "Anyways, it's not so much his private gym as a separate place from HQ. He only shared it with me because I asked if he knew a place that was private and certified for training. Which is what we're here for, so…" I motioned to the treadmill. "Hop on and let's see what you can do."

Taylor sucked in a deep breath, nodding and hopping up. "Right."

I reached over to hit the button, pulling my phone so Cortana could record her data, when a thought occurred. "Hey Taylor?"

"Yeah?"

"…Why are you still wearing your glasses?" It'd been bothering me for a bit and I wasn't sure why until I remembered Panacea helping Taylor by fixing her near-sightedness.

"I've been wearing them since before I can remember," she shrugged, "It feels weird not to, and I think not wearing them makes my face look weird. Besides, these are my spares, it's just glass in the frames."

"Alright."

…

"-and then it turns out that her husband beat her over the head with a golf trophy, and that's why she was in a coma!" Crystal relayed excitedly, nudging a disgruntled-looking Amy with her elbow. "And he confessed that he was waiting to pull the plug on her life support so that he could take all her money! See Ames, The Good Man's not too bad, you know? It's almost like his nom de guerre is apropos, or something."

"…Really want to take French next semester, I see," Amy replied dryly, picking at her lunch as I sat down across from her. "Messing with people's heads…it's shady, Crystal, that's all I'm saying. If he can heal brains, who's to say he can't do other stuff?"

"Well, if I had the power to do other stuff to people's minds," I chimed in, "I'd make the lunch people serve some damn tea. Seriously! Milk, water, juice, soda, gatorade, coffee but no tea! I'm gonna have to start bringing it from home if I want a cup with lunch, I guess." I turned as Dean set his tray by mine, only to frown as he turned around and walked off.

"You want some crumpets along with your tea?" Victoria said in a bad English accent. "Perhaps some haggis and a spotted dick-" she broke down giggling, pounding her fist on the table in mirth. Naturally, the whole thing shook.

"Haggis is from Scotland, Vicky," Dean corrected as he sat back down, setting a foam cup next to my tray and cracking open his thermos to pour me a measure of steaming hot tea. "And I don't think it would go well with spotted dick, which is a type of bread pudding. It's actually very tasty."

Victoria rolled her eyes and bit into her sandwich. "So, you're saying that dick is tasty?" I asked innocently, smirking as Glory Girl gloriously choked on her bite. "You bring tea?"

Dean cracked a small smile and tilted his cup at me. "You could say that." He took a sip and sighed, nodding. "I find it helps energize me for the rest of the day. This blend is especially good - Red Honeybush. A little bit of honey and it's better than any kind of latte."

"Amen to that," I concurred, taking a sip and licking my lips.

"God you guys are weird." Eric added as he sat down, shaking his head. "Who drinks tea? And don't answer that, I know you'll say something like 'the English.'"

"Speaking of Europeans," Crystal slyly changed the subject, smiling as she reached over and poked my arm, "Did you guys know Saul can speak German?"

"Ooh, really?" Victoria perked up, as did Amy and I felt a little embarrassed by the attention. "Say something in German!"

"(Something in German,)" I replied sarcastically, "(You know it's weird to ask someone to talk in another language and then gawk at them, yeah?)"

"Interesting," Amy muttered, stuffing a forkful of salad into her mouth. "How long have you known to speak it? And how'd you find out, Crystal?"

"My mom was German, and I don't mean her family came to America, I mean she grew up in Germany and only moved here when she was in her twenties," I explained, setting the sandwich I was just about to eat down. "I grew up speaking it, as did my Aunt. Though we haven't really spoken it for a long time."

"I found out because we have German Language class together," Crystal began, and I started in on my sandwich. "Ms. Steinmetz skipped in like usual and greeted everyone, then as she was running through attendance she noticed Saul and asked him to stand up and introduce himself, then she'd show him how to do it German, the typical thing. But then he started talking in German, she got really excited and we ended up doing work from the book while they chatted the whole class." She turned to me. "What'd you guys talk about, anyway? You were talking so fast I could barely understand a word you said."

I paused mid-chew, blinking at her, then continued. After I swallowed, I spoke. "Just about random stuff. Asked if I'd ever been to Germany and whatnot." She was a very nice lady, very enthusiastic. Being in her class would've been fun, if only it wasn't completely useless to me. I noticed Dean glancing over my shoulder and I turned to find two girls standing there, one I'd never seen before and the other was Lindsay.

"Hey there!" Lindsay greeted me perkily, a notepad in her hands. "I'm Lindsay, we met yesterday and we have homeroom together, remember?"

"…Yes." I answered warily. I'd watched her the entire homeroom that day just in case she snapped and tried to suck my thoughts out of my head. It was like being in a cage with a potentially rabid beast, just waiting to see if it would lunge or not. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you see, me and my friend, Diane-" The girl next to her, a blonde with dark eyebrows, smiled in a way that sent chills down my spine, "-We're taking Yearbook and Journalism classes, and part of it is interviewing new students. What do you say to a quick interview?"

I would have rather fought an Endbringer. At least then, it would've been quick. "…Uh, sure, when I have some free time." Damn me and my inability to refuse women.

"We got free time now, don't we?" Lindsay asked, turning to Crystal. "Hey, can you scoot over?"

She looked to me and I subtly shook my head. She turned to them and smiled. "Sure!"

You bitch.

Diane and Lindsay sat across from me, both smiling widely and I was struck by the sudden urge to get up and run out of the building. "So, your name is Saul, right?" Diane steepled her fingers in front of her face, her brown eyes glittering.

"Saul M. Dewitt, yes," I replied flatly, draining my tea and wistfully wishing it would turn into pure alcohol on the way down.

"Where are you from?"

'My mother' was the first answer that came to mind, followed by 'when a man and a woman love each other very much…' "Olympia, originally, but I lived in Seattle most of my life."

"Seattle, Washington?" Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "That's on the other side of the country. Why'd you move all the way over here?"

"It wasn't a good environment for my family and my aunt got a job offer." Which was mostly true, even.

"Okay, so how do you like Brockton Bay so far?" Diane asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "Have you met anyone…interesting?"

"It's not bad, weather's about the same," I replied, nodding to Dean as he refilled my cup with hot tea. "And I've met a few interesting people. Dean, for instance, is one of the finer gentlemen I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I also met a lady who trains dogs for living."

Lindsay looked up from her note-taking, her eyes darting between me, her friend, and the others at the table. The Junior New Wave members, for instance, were restraining giggles or, in Amy's case, barely paying attention. Traitors, one and all.

"Okay, what do you think about all the Capes flying around?" She flashed a smile at the JNW, who returned the expression with various levels of enthusiasm. "I see you've met our local celebrities."

"Oh? Celebrities? No one told me," I said dryly, sipping my tea. "As for the Capes, well, I'm surprised none of them have been hit by a plane yet. Never know if it'll happen." I shot the more mobile members a dirty look. Bitches I can summon a Pelican. 'Throw me under the bus again and I'll throw you under the nose cone.' I wanted to say that, but kept it to myself for various reasons.

Diane glanced over at them, then back at me and leaned on the table, angling her eyes down so that a few stray locks brushed over her eyes, giving her a somewhat mysterious, even sultry air. "Now, the most important question…do you have a girlfriend?" Her eyes darted to Dean, who gave her a flat look. "Or a boyfriend, maybe?" The look became, if possible, even flatter.

"Pffft," I tried to withhold a laugh at the thought, looking at the gentleman. "Sorry, but he's not my type." I chuckled as Dean's face became confused, like if he couldn't decide if he'd been insulted or not. "I'm not like that, but if I was, Dean, you'd be my first port of call, so to speak."

"Hey!" Victoria chimed in from the other side of the table.

A pair of hands slapped down on the table, making me jump. Diane had leaned in, a slightly disconcerting look in her eye. "This is a serious question, Saul," she said, leaning over the table, "The people want to know. Do you. Have. A girlfriend?"

I leaned back in my seat, her intensity a little off-putting. "I don't see why anyone would care, but…no?" Crystal, who had been shaking her head for some reason, sighed silently and threw her hands up.

"So you'd be free to do something, say…this Friday?" Diane asked, her smile far too toothy.

"Hey!" Lindsay protested, looking up from her notes. "This is an interview, you gotta be professional!" Then she looked at me, arching an eyebrow and giving me the same predatory smile. "But are you free this Friday?"

"Uh…" I shot a look at Dean, who shrugged helplessly, then cast my mind back. "No, actually. Friday is family movie night."

Disappointed but undeterred, Diane continued, "What about-?"

"-And he's coming with us to see that new movie on Sunday," Victoria cut in, to my everlasting relief. Thank you, you collateral-damage-causing angel.

"I am?" I asked confusedly, and she shot me a look. "Right. Yes. I am. Can't wait to see…it. Lotta…lot of movies this weekend."

"Oh, okay then…" They slumped slightly, then sprang back up cheerfully. "Well, thanks for the interview! See you around!" The two left with a wave and joined another table full of girls, beginning to talk animatedly.

I sighed and leaned heavily on the table, running a hand over my eyes. "Thanks for the save there. My mouth was writing checks my ass couldn't cash." I drank down the last of my tea and set the cup down, turning to the man next to me. "Why the hell are people finding me so interesting all of sudden? It's creepy."

Dean shrugged. "Well, you are interesting. Besides the obvious, you're the new guy and not to put too fine a point on it, this little group here," he motioned at himself, Glory Girl, Shielder, Laserdream and Panacea, "Is fairly popular for various differing reasons. So there's also that."

"Plus Lindsay and Diane have always been kind of boy-crazy," Crystal added, spinning her fork on her clean tray. "Give it a week or two and you'll be just another face."

"I really hope you're right," I sighed, taking a bite out of my apple. "Why did I want to come back to school again?"

…

That Night…

I darted through the sky, landing on top of a low building and jogging along the top. "Quiet night," I muttered to myself, leaping from lamppost to lamppost. One mugging, one attempted car theft and simple snatch and run.

"Game Master," Miss Militia's voice crackled over the radio, "Two youths wearing Azn Bad Boy's colors were spotted by a street cam near the overpass three blocks from your position. Seemed like they were carrying spray paint. Please investigate and report."

Sighing to myself, I replied, "On it." A couple of bangers doing a little tagging? Is that even a crime? I guess, after the chaos of the last few Daylight Patrols, boring was good. It wasn't going to last, but it was nice while it lasted. Even if it didn't feel like it at the time.

The air rushed around me, Hard-Light wings buzzing on my back, feet briefly touching the top of a lamp or a building as I glided along at high-speeds. It took me all of a minute to cover three blocks, the concrete ramp leading to the highway looming closer. It didn't take me long to find the two teenagers, given that they were arguing about something and the noise echoed up. And indeed, they were carrying spray paint and intending to use it, not that it would've made much of a difference. The concrete of the ramp was nearly buried by years of built-up graffiti, stylized gang names, tags, the occasional initials of a couple who were still definitely 'togethr-4-evr.'

I stepped off the roof, not even bothering with stealth, the impact of my booted feet hitting the ground making the two teens jump and spin around. "Oh great, now this guy shows up," one complained, throwing his hands up. "There's always fucking something!"

"The fuck are you even doing here, gaijin?!" The other shouted, pointing at me with a can of paint. "Shouldn't you be downtown punching bank robbers and chasing speeding cars?"

"Not my route tonight," I replied with a shrug, gesturing at them. "Two teens, spray paint…it's suspicious. Vandalism's a crime, you know."

"You know what else is a crime?!" The first shouted, rounding on me. "Murder!"

I looked between the two of them. "…Did you kill someone?"

"No, man, our best friend was killed," the second replied as the first slumped against the wall. "Fucking Nazi's shot him down like a dog."

I shrugged. "Sad, but gang life's dangerous. Probably should've thought of that before you joined."

The first scoffed. "Where the fuck you been, man? You don't 'join' the ABB unless you're an idiot. You either push drugs and girls and knock over shops or your family becomes very 'unfortunate.' Who's gonna say no to Lung or Oni Lee?"

"And it didn't matter that Takeda was ABB, Protect-tron," the second snarled, kicking over a trashcan, "It's always something with those Nazi fucks. Coulda been 'cause he's a Jap, coulda been 'cause he was on their territory, coulda been 'cause they just didn't like his face. They just needed a fucking excuse."

"All we're trying to do is remember him, man," the first said, waving at the ramp with a spray can, "A memorial, just a tag or two. Can't afford anything else. It's not like anyone will notice. Come on, man."

My eyes fell on the graffiti-littered wall, then on the cans they were holding. I was tempted to let them do it, leave them be, but it was against the law for them to do it. And it seemed wrong somehow, doing something so important to them on such a shitty canvas.

"(Ah, just forget it,)" the first one muttered, dropping his can despondently, "(Like these fucking Protectorate Robots know what it's like to lose someone…)"

"(First of all, don't call me a robot, I prefer 'cyborg')" I replied in Japanese, bending over to pick up the can, "(Second, I know exactly what's like to lose people you love. And thirdly…it's still a crime…if you do it.)"

I turned to the concrete ramp and sprayed, covering it in black. "So, what were you going to do?"

"Uh…" They blinked dumbly, looking at each other, "Something like…a headstone and R.I.P, you know."

I grunted and shook my head. "Got a better idea. You have a picture for reference?"

The first pulled a photo out of his pocket and handed it to me. It showed the two of them, plus another boy all sitting on the front steps of a run-down house, all three of them smiling widely with their arms around their shoulders. A snapshot of better times, bitterly crumpled by the present. I could work with it.

"First, the outline." Duct tape screeched as I peeled a length from the roll and taped a cardboard cut out to it, filling in the line with paint, "Then the background," more tape, more cardboard, this time of the railing they were leaning against. "And then the finer details…"

Paint and the sound of hissing filled my senses and I blinked, adding the final touches to the painting before nodding to myself and setting the can down in front of it.

"Woah…" Came from the two of them, as they stepped forward to look at it. "This is…"

The photo had been rendered on the wall in purple, blue and white, the third boy given angel wings and backlit by light, making it seem like he was being supported by them. Underneath it read 'R.I.P TAKEDA. ALWAYS ON OUR SHOULDERS.'

"…Thanks, man," the second teenager said softly, reaching out a hand to touch it but pulling back at the last second. "Really."

"No problem. Stay safe," I nodded, running up the wall and leaving them be.

…

"…Hey Darui?"

"Yeah, Toshi?"

"…Where'd he get all the cardboard and the duct tape? Where did it go? And how did this whole thing take like, two minutes?"

…

An hour later, I was taking a break on top of a pawn shop, sipping from a water bottle and hoping the next two hours would speed by. It'd been a boring patrol, all told. The tagging had been a nice diversion, but it hadn't eaten up any of my time.

"Hey, Saul?" Cortana's voice echoed in my ears. "You should get your phone out."

"I'm not supposed to be on my phone during patrol," I said, watching a car cruise by, the street lights reflecting off the cherry red paint job.

"Look at your phone."

I shrugged and pulled my phone from my pocket, opening the screen. "Okay, but if I get in trouble-"

"-so called Game Master! We say, show us!" The view switched to a teen in a mask, wearing an outfit that reminded me of a wizard. "We, Leet and Uber, the real game masters of Brockton Bay, challenge that Ward piece of crap! Prove that 'Game Master' isn't just some shitty name!"

…Oh.

It is on.

…

…

…

…

A/N: Well hello there. Turns out that April Fool's (OR IS IT?!) chapter was actually a prelude to an actual chapter! Surprise.

So, a lot of stuff happened in this chapter. The passing of time is speeding up, and there'll be more skips in time before we get to the next arc. So it's basically Set up - beginning - climax - aftermath. Like in a real story!

Almost like I'm a real writer or something.

I had to laugh at the one guy saying I'd made the last chapter because I'm stuck at home because of the virus, which, actually, no. I work at a gas station, which means I'm essential. Funnily enough, my life hasn't actually changed all that much, just less people coming into the store and more time with my family at home. It sucks, but I am getting more writing done and I'm still getting paid (barely), so there's that.

I got plans and outlines for chapters for a bunch of my fics, some of which may surprise you to see updated. Look forward to that. What else you gonna do, go outside? With other people?

Ew.

As always, big thanks to NorthSouthGorem and AJR3333 for looking over shit, shooting the shit and generally being the shit. Why not give em all a look-see and read their stuff? What else you gonna do, interact with other human beings? IN PERSON?!

Ew.

Thanks for stopping by my little slice of escapism in a cruel, uncaring world. Hope you enjoyed.

Stay Awesome.

~Soleneus

P.S. If, and I want to stress IF I get the virus and if, IF I die from it, rest assured that my compatriots in fanfiction will take up my stories in my place. Can't guarantee they'll finish them, but they'll be in good hands, nonetheless.

Austin: I dunno bout that, chief. I wouldn't trust me with a conglomerate of stories. Too much procrastination, n' all that. Plus, that would have to mean that I would have to read a ton of source material for each one. My attention span isn't long enough for that.

Oh, I see, just ignore my death wish then. I'll leave it all to NSG then. Including all my original stuff.

Austin: Just pray he doesn't turn it into… *Ahem*... like his "other" stories. The things I've seen and read from that man… my god.

Still better-written than yours.

Austin: Oof! But, you right. If anything, I'll help make sure that other people don't start copying from it without permission.

Not that I think I'll get it, mind, or that it'll be too bad if I do. Got the flu a week before this whole thing broke out, and my family, while on the heavy side, has always been healthy. The only one really at risk, besides my grandparents is my uncle who did a shit load of drugs.

Unless depression and PTSD count as pre-existing conditions? Because then I'd be fucked.

Stay Awesome (And Safe) Some More.

~still Soleneus