Sorry Im so

He didnt finish the sentence.

I could sense him slowing, using the bugs Id planted on his costume. I stopped and waited for him.

Its fine, Theo. Youre doing me a favor.

Doesnt feel like it, he said. He bent down, hands on his knees.

I waited for him to get his breath.

I might throw up, he added.

I backed away a step. Just getting the chance to run, its cool. Not many others are willing to meet me at seven to run, much less six weeks in a row. Grace is athletic, but she got sick of it fast.

He mumbled something I couldnt make out.

What?

Im not athletic.

Youre getting better. We just got a whole two blocks. Thats not bad. About as good as I was when I started.

Not fair to you, make you suffer for how much I suck.

Its fine. Its nice to get outside. Kind of a pain to have to get someone to come with if I want to go outside for no particular reason. If I dont get the exercise here, I can use the treadmill back at the headquarters. Dont feel obligated, if youre not enjoying this.

I dont. Im its good. I want to get fit.

Well, in that case, dont worry about it. Were both benefitting, I said.

He made it another few steps before he was hunched over again, still breathing hard.

I felt a pang of sympathy, suppressing a smile at the same time. Come on. Well walk one block, then try running another, walk the rest of the way.

He was still panting for breath as he obliged.

I found myself missing Brockton Bay. It wasnt the most beautiful city, or the most active. Or the most anything. There were already things going on around the portal, but it wasnt a city with a lot going for it, and it hadnt been even before the intense series of events had laid waste to the shoreline, set a water-filled crater in the northwest corner of the downtown area and left an entire swathe of the city so fucked up with random, horrifically dangerous effects that it had to be walled off.

Maybe I wouldnt have felt the same way if I hadnt grown up there, but I liked the balance in Brockton Bay. The way there was everything I could want, as far as malls, shopping centers, theaters. It was a big enough city. Yet there was just as much room to wake up early in the day, when others werent out, and have Brockton Bay to myself.

Chicago wasnt like that. It was busy, and it was busy in a way that got in my way. People were already up if I got up at six in the morning to go run. Some were still up from the previous night, having spent the entire evening at clubs or whatever else. Everything was taken to an extreme, it seemed, in drama, opinions and ideas. It made it a little harder to sympathize with Chicagos equivalents to the people Id been helping in Brockton Bay. A little harder to sympathize with anyone, really.

I was feeling cramped. I wasnt a social person at my core, and being here, like this, never allowed to be out and on my own, it rankled. I liked time on my own, with the internet or a good book, even a bad book, to get my mind settled down, my thoughts in order. It wasnt that I didnt like people, that I didnt like company, but too much was too much, and I had no elbow room here.

Whether they knew it or not, the PRT directors had found a fitting way to punish me. Hopefully it wouldnt go any further than this. Id done as they asked, I was staying under the radar, and though I didnt plan to stay there, I didnt think they had any reason to make my life more difficult. I had my suspicions that my phone and computer were tapped, so I was careful about what I browsed and how I communicated.

With luck, they would forget about me until I was active again. With more luck, I wouldnt have to worry about them much longer. The Director from Toronto, the guy I hadnt been able to place, had already quit. Wilkins and West were still active, but the woman at the end of the table was under scrutiny.

There was stuff going on behind the scenes, and speculation was rampant on the Parahumans Online site. Satyricals name had come up. As far as could tell, the Vegas capes had gone rogue, and they were apparently targeting the more corrupt elements of the PRT.

I wasnt a hundred percent sure how to feel about that, but I wasnt complaining if someone was taking down my enemies for me, especially if it was in a more or less safe, legitimate way.

Hey, Theo said.

I turned to look at him.

When you were dealing with the Slaughterhouse Nine back in Brockton Bay, you fought Jack Slash, right?

Yeah. Kind of.

Kind of?

He doesnt really fight, unless hes got his people around him and the fights unfair. Mostly, I was chasing him around, trying not to get killed in the process.

He frowned.

Worried? I asked. Youll have help.

So will he, Theo pointed out.

True.

Im Im not good at this. Everything Kaiser was, Im not.

Thats not a bad thing. He was an asshole. You arent.

Theo managed a weak smile. It was hard to identify just how he would react in regards to things. Backed against a wall, faced with a serious threat, he showed courage. Id seen him on patrol, and for all his worries, he did follow through. He had against Behemoth, in what was almost his first time out in costume. Talking about his family, though, I couldnt pin down just what hed say or do.

The feeble smile, was that genuine? Had I hurt him, left him in a position where he wanted to defend his family but couldnt because of what they were?

I dont fit the typical cape mold, Theo said.

I resisted the urge to tell him I didnt either, but I didnt. I remembered a tidbit of advice Id heard Tecton giving, and listened instead. Youre feeling nervous. Anyone would.

The running, I dont feel the difference, he said.

Slow gains, but theyre there.

The training helps, he said. The training feels concrete, like Im getting significantly better.

You want to train when we get back?

I dont have long before I have to patrol. A short one?

Sure. Come on. Run one more block, throw up if you have to, then we walk back.

He made a sound partway between a gurgle and a groan, but he followed me as I took off.

Running at first, then walking, we took a different route coming back than wed taken on our way out. The trees by the lake were aflame with autumnal colors, and I could see a handful of college students and older folk gathered, enjoying the serenity of the lake, the perfect temperature. Tranquil.

That was something I could get behind. I would have loved to sit by the lake, given the opportunity. The trouble was, I never got the chance. I was leashed to other peoples schedules, my excursions had to be in another persons company, and nobody had really seemed keen on the idea of going out solely to go and sit at the lakeside.

As penance went, it was pretty light, but the overall effect of this restriction was wearing on me in a way that the jail cell hadnt.

We reached the PRT headquarters, one of two in Chicago. It was squat, broad, and not terribly pretty, but it sported a statue on the roof that had been paid for by an old member, Stardust.

Once inside, we made our way up to the top floor, where the Wards rooms and the hub, as the others called it. It was a label that made me think of prison, and that, in turn, pushed me to think of it more as a common area or a lounge.

Gym? I asked.

Yeah, Theo said. Let me get my stuff on. Ill meet you there.

I tapped into the supply of bugs that were stored in my workshop, withdrawing an assortment of flies, beetles and cockroaches, depositing the ones that Id collected during the run. It wasnt many, but I didnt need much. Enough or three or four swarm clones.

I stopped by the kitchen to collect some silverware, then made my way down one floor to where the gym was.

Golem arrived a minute after I got there, decked out in his costume. It had changed from its first iteration, complete with a layer of spider silk and heavy armor over top of it. He wore a mask with a neutral, almost solemn face, and fan-like decorations at his waist and shoulders, the spaces stretching between the slats painted white, a darker metal composing the frame and edges.

The image consultant was having fits, no doubt, but the first and most important goal was for Golem to be effective. We were getting there. Image would come later.

Hey, Kirk greeted us, stepping out as Golem arrived. He wore a t-shirt and yoga pants, and was glistening with sweat. His head was shaved, and his skin was a striking jet black. You guys sparring?

Training, I said. Not sparring, really.

Can I watch?

I looked at Golem, Are you okay with it?.

Im the one embarrassing myself, you mean.

I think youre past the point where youre embarrassing yourself, I said.

You can watch if you want, Annex. Wouldnt mind helping clean up, Golem said. I cant promise itll be anything special.

Not a prob, Kirk responded. Kind of curious to see where youre at.

We made our way inside.

The area was divided, with workout machines taking up one half, and an open area for sparring and dance and whatever else on the other half. Floor panels, varying in the depth and degree of padding offered, were neatly stacked in one corner.

We moved to the open area, but we didnt set up any padding for the floor. My bugs flowed through vents and from the hallway outside, and they filled the room, covering every surface.

The bugs congealed into a human figure, and Golem took action. His fingertips ran along the white fans at his waist, then he jabbed one hand inside. A hand of concrete lunged out of the floor to dissipate the swarm.

A little slow, but not bad.

Another part of the swarm congealed into a rough decoy, and Golem clutched it in a fist of concrete. Faster this time. The bugs seeped out through the gaps in the fingers as the hand retreated into the floors surface.

Each panel of the fan was a different material. Concrete, steel, granite, wood. Common materials were in easy reach. Less common ones were a gesture away. Two at once, this time. Two figures to strike. Golem caught one with his right hand, but I moved the other as he reached for it with his left. He wasnt quick enough to catch it, and the angle was poor.

I drew a butter knife from the pocket of my shorts, raised it above my head.

Golem was watching for it. He dug his fingertips into the topside of one panel, his thumb into the underside. Identical digits sprouted from the knife, forming half of a fist that had closed around the edge. The knife became a club, one with no cutting edge.

I threw the weapon aside and turned my attention towards creating more decoys.

I feinted, now, misleading him about where my clones were moving. He struggled but managed to deliver the hits. Dragonflies and faster insects formed a more mobile body, and I avoided the strikes, right up until he started creating hands that sprouted forth from limbs that were already sticking out of the ground: branching barriers to limit movement. I tried to simulate the general effect of the obstacles, and Golem took the opportunity to deliver a finishing blow, crushing another swarm-decoy..

Hit them harder now, I said. Running, I tried to raise expectations for myself. Here, I did much the same for Golem.

The movements became more violent. A hand cupped around one swarm and then pulled it against the ground, melding back into the surface. Bugs were squished against the spacial distortion field, and my swarms numbers were severely reduced.

Another was squashed against the wall, but the surfaces were different materials, and the hand couldnt simply sink back in. This time, there was an audible thud, eliciting a heavy rattling from the exercise machines on the other side of the gym.

I drew my swarm together into a rough shape, not a person, but something larger, a touch bigger than Crawler, smaller than Echidna, bipedal.

He hit it, and I reformed it.

Hit it harder, I said.

He hit it again, drawing two hands together as if he were squeezing it. There was no substance to the monsters body, though. I judged that he wasnt doing enough damage and simply reformed it. The monster advanced on him.

I stepped a little closer, raising my voice. Come on, Theo! Hit harder!

Golem dropped a foot as one leg slipped into the concrete floor. A facsimile of his boot rose out of the floor, complete with cleats. The speed and force of it would have been enough to lift one of Rachels dogs, so I obliged by moving the body of the swarm monster, raising it.

As the foot continued to rise, Golems leg disappearing up to the knee in the floor, he pushed one hand into the fan, causing a limb to drop from the ceiling right above the rising spiked platform that was Golems boot. My creation was sandwiched between the two, and the collision had enough of an impact to make Kirk and I stumble. I had to turn my head to keep the dust from getting in my eyes.

Is that- Golem started.

Before he finished the sentence, I had a second butter knife drawn, the tip pressed to his throat.

Keep your eye on the threats, I said.

Not very fair, Kirk commented. Playing dirty.

No, Golem said. His voice wavered, which was odd, considering I wasnt doing anything that was actually threatening. Something else had shaken him. Had he taken the lesson to heart? Is good. Thats the kind of lesson I need to know. Its why Im training.

Jacks going to throw some scary motherfuckers at you, I said. But hell be looking for an opening. Always, always watch your back. Dont forget to watch your friends backs too. You probably wont die if you do, but you might wish you were dead, when you see what Jack and his gang do to them.

Golem withdrew his arm from the panel, but his leg was harder to free from the ground. By the time he was standing straight, the leg that stuck out of the floor had become more or less permanent. In another area, fingertips stuck out of the floor. There were also the branching trees of hands that had formed barriers. Without us even asking, Kirk stepped forward, his body liquefying as he flowed into the surface, smoothing it all out as though wed never been there.

When he was done, he emerged to survey his work.

Thank you, I said.

Interesting to watch. Figuring out ways to apply his power?

Pretty much. Tricks for his repertoire, building some familiarity with using his abilities, attacking to recognize threats and attack without hesitation when needed.

You really buy that Jacks going to wake up from some cryogenic sleep just to fight some kid who didnt even have powers when they last met?

Yeah, I said. Believe it or not, with what I know of Jack, it makes perfect sense.

Huh.

Youre on board, right? I asked. With the plan?

Kirk nodded. Seems a little crazy, but doesnt hurt, given the stakes.

End of the world, Golem said.

End of the world, I agreed. Well get as many on board as we can. Either we avert it, or we soften the blow.

Assuming we can figure out what it is, Golem said.

Yeah, I said. You said you had patrol soon?

Eight twenty. Then school after that. Ill see you this afternoon?

Yeah, I answered. I made my way to the common area and took the first unoccupied spot at the computer. Grace was there, but she wore a school uniform, and had homework spread around her.

Dont say a word, she told me, clearly annoyed.

Wasnt going to, I responded.

I logged in, and was greeted by the customized desktop.

C/D: Endbringer

-3:21:45:90

C/D: End of World

593:19:27:50

The first counted upward, the other counted down.

Three days had passed since the estimated arrival of either the Simurgh or Leviathan. Behemoth had been early, but whatever factor pushed that to occur wasnt at play here.

It made sense that they wouldnt maintain the schedule they had been. Since the Simurgh had arrived, roughly three and a half months had passed between each attack.

These coming days and weeks would speak volumes. Were the Endbringers going to alter their tactics? Would the schedule continue at its accelerated pace, with Behemoth appearing in seven to ten months?

Something else altogether?

My eyes fell on the second clock. The countdown.

593:19:25:23

No joke? I asked, the second the elevator doors were open. Cuff was waiting on the other side.

Shes here, Cuff said. Not here, here, but shes showed up.

I was in full costume, my flight pack on, an insulated box for my bugs tucked under one arm. my phone in hand. I was chilled to the core of my body, my lenses fogging up from the adjustment from outdoor temperature to indoor temperature.

I didnt need to ask who. I knew well enough. It was a question that had been lurking on everyones minds. Which one, where?

I pulled off my mask as I followed her to the common area, and reached out to accept the glasses my bugs were already fetching to me, putting them on. The same images played on each of the screens.

The Simurgh, her silhouette barely visible in the midst of the clouds.

What city? I asked.

Not a city, Tecton said.

Sure enough, the camera angle changed. Water. Coastal?

No. Too much water.

Ocean. She was attacking the ocean?

It clicked when I saw the text at the bottom of the screen for one news report. BA178 under siege.

Of all of the sensitive locations in the world, the Simurgh had chosen a passenger airplane.

Are we- I started to ask.

Cant, Tecton said. No solid ground, and none of us fly.

I fly, I said, but I could already guess the follow-up answer.

Vehicles and tinker equipment arent going to cut it. Too easy for her to interfere with, Tecton said.

Order came down from the top. Natural fliers only, Wanton added.

Were too late to join in anyways, Grace said. I cant imagine thisll be a long, drawn-out, knock down fight. We got almost no warning. Its like she dropped straight down from where she was and picked a fight with the closest target.

I thought of Armstrongs insistence that we capitalize on our victory, mass in numbers to allow for another decisive victory, instead of showing up in smaller groups, with inevitable attrition.

All this waiting, all of the restlessness, watching the countdown clock tick well beyond the estimated date, and we couldnt even fight. I wasnt sure how to feel about that.

I watched on the screen as Legend, Alexandria and Eidolon engaged the Simurgh. She avoided the worst of their attacks, primarily through the only cover available the airplane.

Half of the screens were showing the same video footage, though they were different channels, different organizations. The other half were showing information. The flight route, the people in the plane.

If anything here was special, the only one who knew would be the Simurgh.

My teammates didnt talk much as we watched the fight progress. In one instant, it seemed, the dynamic changed. The heroes began trying to attack the plane, and the Simurgh started trying to defend it.

For eleven minutes, she managed, using her telekinesis to move the craft, her wings and body to block it from being damaged.

A fire started on the body of the ship as Eidolon tore into the Simurgh with a reality warping power of some kind, complete with lightning, fire, distorted light, and ice. The Simurgh cast the craft aside in the following instant, letting it flip, burn and tumble before hitting the water and virtually disintegrating.

That done, the Simurgh ascended, rising into the clouds. A few capes tried to follow, but Scion wasnt among them.

How long was the fight? I asked.

Not long enough for Scion to show, was all Wanton said.

Forty minutes? Tecton asked. About forty minutes.

Id spent more than half that time hurrying back to headquarters, hoping I wasnt missing my ride. Now this. It was a farce.

Now we wait, Grace said, And if were lucky, we find out what she just did.

That was it.

It was almost a letdown, more than a relief. I couldnt say shed been softballing us, because it was the Simurgh. For all I knew, this was the most devastating attack yet. We wouldnt know until later on.

Virtually no casualties, the planeload of people excepted. Nobody was reporting anything about heroes dying, but it had been clear enough from the footage that this hadnt been a serious loss. Barely forty capes had been out there, and I hadnt seen any die.

Yet I felt irrationally upset, if anything.

I turned and walked away. I let the strap of the incubation box slip from my shoulder to the crook of my elbow, caught it with my hand, and then transferred it over to the arms of my flight pack. It meant I didnt have to stop or bend down to set the incubation box at the base of the stairs. I didnt go up to my room or my workshop, though. I made my way downstairs, instead.

I was grateful to see that Mrs. Yamada hadnt left yet. Her things were packed, but shed settled into the office, and was reading a small book. A television was on in the corner, muted, showing what was happening with the Simurgh.

Taylor.

Do you have a minute?

Of course.

She stood and crossed the room to close the door. I hadnt realized Id left it open.

It was about the best we could hope for, going by what we know now, I said, And I feel worse about it than I did about New Delhi.

Youve been preparing for this, anticipating it, for some time. Mentally, you were preparing yourself for more losses, steeling yourself. That takes a lot out of you, and you were robbed of a chance to do something.

My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. My dad. I sent him a message letting him know I was fine.

Sorry, I said, putting the phone away. It was my dad.

Dont be sorry. Its a good sign if youre reaching out to your dad, or vice-versa.

Its bad manners, I said. But okay. Back to what we were saying before. Im almost feeling disarmed?

Disarmed. Good word.

Ive been sort of enjoying the peace, the fact that the Protectorate are dealing with the meanest bastards around, the Folk, the Royals, the Condemned. But I was telling myself it came down to the Endbringer fight. That Id participate, Id wake up, fight.

Isnt it better if you dont have to?

No, I said. I stared down at my gloved hands. No. Not at all.

You came from a bad place, and, like weve talked about, you reinvented yourself. Maybe a lot of your identity is rooted in your concept of yourself as a warrior.

Maybe, I said. But whether its true or not, it doesnt change how I feel.

I expect a lot of people around the world feel the same way. Its very possible she calculated things to achieve this effect.

I nodded.

What do you think would be a best case scenario, Taylor? If everything went the way you were hoping it would, deep down inside, what would happen?

New Delhi would happen, I said. Except without the severe losses. Wed lose people, some place would get damaged, but wed kill another Endbringer.

Is that realistic, do you think?

No, I said. I know it isnt realistic. We went decades without killing one, and its stupid to imagine we could kill two in a row.

Whats a more reasonable expectation?

That shed show up, and wed fight, and wed drive her off without too many casualties.

In either of these scenarios, do you envision yourself playing a role? Maybe as big a role as you played in New Delhi?

Im Sort of?

She didnt seize on anything there, nor did she ask a follow-up question. I took the opportunity to reflect on it.

Yeah, I eventually said. Maybe not as big a role. Again, thats unrealistic. But I want to help.

If the Simurgh wanted to deliver a hit to morale, this would be a way to do it, Mrs. Yamada said. After New Delhi, a lot of capes were hoping to make a difference, to be heroes. Her choice of venue, the short battle, the narrow focus, it denied everyone the chance. Not just you.

I need to be stronger, I said. Im supposed to be one of the people thats around for this prophesied end of the world. Except Im not getting chances here.

Can you talk to your superiors? To Revel?

Ive hinted at it, that I could stand to sidekick around on patrols. Nobodys taken the deal. Not with me. They took Golem, but the adult capes like him, because hes polite to a fault, works his ass off, and his power is good. Im good, but I wind up being a partner more than a sidekick.

Youve been training with Golem.

Yeah.

Youre due some of the credit for his forward strides, Im sure.

Im not- I started, then I made myself stop. Too much emotion in my voice. Calmer, I said, Im not looking for reassurance, or for compliments. Im just

I struggled for a way to end the sentence.

Lets use the I feel because line. Frame your emotions better.

I drew in a deep breath, then sighed. I feel spooked, because somethings coming and its going to be ugly, and Im not prepared. I feel less prepared with every day where nothing happens.

I imagine your teammates feel spooked too. Youve mentioned what theyre going through. Golem is likely going to be baited out by Jack Slash at some point in the future. Cuff has limited dexterity with her right hand, to the point that shes having to relearn to write and type. Im not discussing anything confidential, to be clear; only what youve mentioned to me in our previous sessions.

I nodded.

Golem has your support, I know. They all do, in some respect. In terms of what Cuff is going through, I know your team is dividing the workload in helping her with paperwork. That says a lot.

Supporting each other.

It sounds trite, but I think theres a truth in it. You have legitimate fears about what comes down the road. But keep in mind that youre not alone in this. Maybe youve hit a ceiling for the time being, in your own growth and development. But you can still progress, if youre helping your teammates, assisting them in conquering their demons and improving their abilities.

Yeah, I said. It doesnt feel like enough.

It may not be, but its constructive. Perhaps youll feel less disarmed if you focus on the tools and, so to speak, the weapons at your disposal.

Maybe, I answered her. But I hate feeling helpless.

Part of the reason you feel that way is because youre waiting for opportunities to come to you. You waited for the Endbringer, so you could flex your talents in unimaginably high stress environments. Its good, I think, that you waited, that you had a moment to breathe. I think you should strive to retain that peace, because it may help you enter a better headspace.

It was similar advice to the parting words Glenn had left me with, but they opposed on one front. Mrs. Yamada would have been happier in general if I maintained this indefinitely. Glenn would be wanting to see me acting.

It was time to act, whatever Mrs. Yamada said.

Thank you, I said.

You feel a little better?

Not really, I admitted. Im not even sure I understand all my feelings. But I feel like Ive got more of a plan, now. I appreciate it.

Its what Im here for. Or at least, Im here for one more hour, and then I fly back to Boston. Ill be around next Friday, after I finish another circuit.

Cool, I said. Im glad you were here today.

I am too, she answered.

When I stood from my chair, she did too. She stepped forward and gave me a hug.

I wasnt sure how normal that was, but Id remarked once on how few hugs I got, and how some hugs Id given or received in the past had been meaningful moments for me, and shed asked if I wanted one from her.

Somewhere along the line, t had become something of a habit, as we ended our sessions. I gave her a little smile as we parted.

I made my way back to the common area, and seated myself at the computer. The others were still following what was happening on the larger monitors. The defending heroes had frozen the planes half-submerged wreckage and they were preparing quarantine measures.

Whatever the reason for this particular attack, I doubted it would be clear anytime soon.

Instead, I seated myself at the computer, and logged myself in. The timers ticked away.

Once Id updated the timer for the recent attack, it read:

C/D: Endbringer

149:22:59:59

C/D: End of World

579:07:14:53

Inching down steadily.

Mrs. Yamada had been right, I mused, as I found the files on the local kingpins and warlords. I was doing myself a disservice by waiting for opportunity to come to me. If I was going to do as Glenn had suggested, and make a calculated play, I needed to act, rather than hope for another chance like wed had in New Delhi.

Looking at the others, I wondered if it was best to manipulate them or get them on board. Manipulation was almost kinder, because it absolved them of guilt. Simply making sure we were in the right place at the right time, luring a local power into a fight, with a plan already in mind

No.

Chevaliers Protectorate, ups and downs aside, was more about honesty. I wanted to tap into Skitters strengths, her ruthlessness, but I also wanted to be a hero. That was at the core of what I had achieved in New Delhi.

Tecton, I called out, as my eyes fell on a portrait of a supervillain with a mask of an upside-down face. An established power, located at the citys edge for nearly ten years.

Too established? I didnt want to set another ABB fiasco in motion. There were advantages to being open. The ability to ask questions, get feedback.

What is it? he asked.

Theres something I want to talk to you about.