“I didn’t mean to dismiss them or their sacrifice.  I just didn’t know them, and-”

Oh jeez, he doesn’t even know who it was. He’s using gender neutral pronouns (even though Clocky mentioned Aegis was a “guy”.

Or maybe it’s that Weld is referring to both of “the dead”, Aegis and Gallant. I suppose that works.

Clockblocker turned, swiping his arm angrily at his helmet to snatch it off the counter.  Tucking it under one arm, he spoke to the others, his back to Weld, “I’m going to check on my family.  I’ll head there in costume, in case I run into trouble, be back in the morning.  Mind manning the console, Kid?”

Translation: “I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m out.”

Kid Win shook his head, “I need to take a break anyways.”

Vista glanced at Weld, then asked, “Where do you guys need me?”

…it seems there’s more people wanting to get out of this pressure cooker.

“Go sleep,” Shadow Stalker spoke, placing a hand on Vista’s head as she walked past the girl, “I’ll start my patrol, go with Clock to make sure he gets home and that he has some backup.  You can relieve me when I’m back, maybe get Clockblocker to go with you.”

Okay so not only did everyone just decide to do their own things all of a sudden (though I’m not sure if “manning the console” involves staying or leaving the room), but they did that in front of the guy who’s supposed to be their new leader without consulting him at all. It’s like a collective “we’re out and fuck you you’re not our leader”.

It’d take quite a bit for this to go any worse for Weld.

Weld struggled to find something to say, failed.

Clockblocker went on, “Kid Win and I stopped some lunatics in gas masks from mixing ammonia and bleach into a poison gas.  You know why?  They wanted to off the people in an apartment block so they could loot the place and stay there.  There’s people going fucking crazy out there, and you’re talking training.”

Fucking hell. Yeah, I think I see your point, Clocky.

“I didn’t mean now,” Weld protested, backpedaling, “I was thinking in terms of the future.  The training would be something to look forward to, after this crisis has passed.”

Fair enough, though it’s evidently not what you should’ve opened with.

“You’re assuming it’s going to pass,” Shadow Stalker replied, her voice tired.  “Some are saying this is the way things are going to stay.  I almost agree with them.  This isn’t the kind of city that bounces back from things.”

Honestly, knowing this story, this setting? They might be right.

I’m losing them.  “I can’t believe that.  We’ve got to have hope.”

Hope is at an all-time low in this city. I agree, you should do your best to bring some of it back, but don’t expect everyone to agree with you.

“Pull a fifteen hour patrol out there, then come back and talk to me about hope,” Clockblocker spoke.  “You know, I could almost play along.  Go with the blind optimism, say yippee to training.  But you don’t even mention the guy you’re replacing?  A few words for the dead?  It’s a matter of respect, bro.”

And there it is.

Should he comment on that?  Offer support?  He wasn’t sure what to say, if it would even be welcome.

Pretty awkward situation. Maybe you should’ve had Piggot here after all.

Although I have a hard time imagining she’d be much comfort to Vista, at least she could’ve helped break the ice.

“Hello,” he spoke.  He received a chorus of muttered and murmured greetings in return.

Yeeeah, the moods aren’t exactly high around here these days. It certainly doesn’t help that Weld walked in here as a replacement for one of their dead friends.

“Look,” he said, “I won’t make a big deal of this.  The guys upstairs want me in charge.  It’s going to take me a short while to get up to speed, but I hope to prove to you guys that I can and will work as hard as anyone.”

I… don’t think that’s what they’re grumbling about, but nice try.

It was hard to say what he’d expected, but surely he should have gotten more of a response than some blank stares and glazed looks.  Was it the wrong time for this?  Every single one of them looked dog tired.  Clockblocker looked like he was barely managing to stand.

I suppose on top of the mourning process, they’ve had a lot of shit to deal with recently.

“From everything I’ve heard, you guys are an excellent team, and I hope I can do you justice as a leader.  It’s my hope that we can improve on a winning formula.  I’ve talked to the director about some special training-”

Stop talking. They clearly don’t want to hear about work right now.

“Training?” Clockblocker interrupted, “You just lost me.”

…what, is there no training here at all?

Or is he commenting on there being no time for that between the shit they have to deal with?

“If you’ll hear me out, I think you’ll like the idea.”

“Have you seen the situation out there?” Clockblocker challenged him, “Less than an hour ago, I saved a guy I know from my high school physics class from being dragged into an alley by a half-dozen grown men.  One of them stuck him with a needle before I got him away from them.  The Hospitals are shut down or over capacity, so I brought him here.  He’s upstairs right now, getting drugs to ensure he doesn’t get HIV.”

Yikes. Yep, sounds like the latter situation.

Kid Win and Vista arrived from what the ‘cubicles’ at the far end of the spacious room.  They weren’t really cubicles, but sectioned off areas with beds and room for personal effects.

Hm. This room appears to be kind of similar to the Undersiders’ former Loft in some respects. A spacious room, with smaller, sectioned-off, cubicle-like spaces for the individual members in the far end.

I kind of like how the Wards and Undersiders seem to be becoming clearer parallels to each other in some ways.

The base in Boston had been similar.  Kid Win was in civilian clothes, brown-haired, ruddy cheeked in a way that suggested he had been exercising until just recently.  Very normal looking.

Nice.

Vista was in pyjamas, her hair tied back into a ponytail.  He’d had someone as young as her on his team in Boston, but the boy had been a Thinker, a limited precog content to work and communicate with them from their command station.  This girl had been out in the field – three fingers on her left hand were bandaged, with crimson seeping in through the white.

Aw.

Her eyes were puffy, as though she’d been crying until very recently.

Nooo

Poor child 😥

Clockblocker sat in a chair at the huge computer to the right of the room, swiveled to check out their new arrival, then stood, folding his arms.  Red haired, freckled, thin lipped, he wore a costume that was all white, with animated images of clock faces on it.  A white helmet sat on the counter of the computer terminal.

Looking back at Interlude 3 reminded me that Clocky was supposed to be the next leader of the Brockton Bay Wards once Aegis graduated. I wonder how he feels about Weld coming in to take the role instead. At least it seemed like Clocky didn’t really want to be leader: “Go for it.  I’m going to procrastinate as long as I can on the leadership thing.”

Shadow Stalker was leaning against a wall, thumbing through a smartphone.  She had one foot against the wall, one arm folded just under her chest, her free hand resting in the crook of her other elbow.

…that’s an interesting pose. It’s got the pose of someone who quite casually doesn’t really care, mixed with a common signal of nervousness. Maybe she’s trying to appear casual, but is actually somewhat nervous about the new leader?

And Clocky doesn’t seem thrilled to see Weld either, with the folded arms.

She looked up at him, stuck the phone in a pouch on her belt.  She was dark-skinned, pretty, and from  what he could see beneath her costume and her voluminous cloak, she had a nice body.

Oh cod. Dude, I low-key ship you with Taylor (and it’s becoming more… medium-key as I learn what you’re like and don’t have to worry about you being an actual piece of shit), please don’t get romantically interested in Sophia… Seriously, anyone but Sophia.

Though to be fair, he’s not commenting on anything we don’t already know from Taylor. In this story, the narrator calling someone pretty doesn’t necessarily mean they’re attracted to them just yet.

Athletic figure.  A part of Weld’s adolescent psyche was relieved that there was some eye candy here.

Heh.

I’m sure having a metal body doesn’t hurt when it comes to getting it hard.

I remember from Interlude 3 that Vista had a crush on one of the boys, but which one was it? It wasn’t Aegis or Gallant, was it? Because if that’s the case, she… might be less than cheery these days. I should probably go back and check before I continue.

Not that I expect anyone to be totally fine with the deaths of Aegis and Gallant just because they weren’t crushing on them.

…

Ah, shit, it was Gallant.

He took a deep breath, deep enough that he could feel the groan of the metal stretching to its limits inside his chest.

RRRRNGHHH

Then he stepped off the rooftop and through the elevator doors.  When the complex chrome doors shut, they cut off the noise of the helicopter entirely.

Welcome to the Brockton Bay Wards HQ, Weld.

It was utterly quiet, inside the box.  There was barely any sense of motion or movement from the elevator.  Tinker designed.  It had to be.

Ah yeah, I remember these elevators from Interlude 3.

He avoided touching the chrome walls or railing.  It was probably coated with something, but emerging with a piece of railing stuck to him would make for a terrible first impression.

Ahaha, yeah, that would be something alright.

Stepping out into a hallway, he walked up to a security terminal.  He swiped his identification card, spoke his name for the voice authentication, “Weld.”  There was a pause, and then the doors glided open.

His team was there, each with their masks off.

Time to meet the gang!

“Do you wish me to come down and introduce you?”

That earned a moment’s consideration.  Was this woman likable?  No.  Would the others like her?  Probably not.

Weld knows what’s up.

Which meant that having her introduce him might be detrimental, associate him with someone they might view negatively.

Can’t fault his logic there. I’m not sure this association would stick for very long, but first impressions are important.

“No, I don’t think it’s necessary, ma’am.”

“Your old keycards will let you in.  I’ll have replacement identification sent to you shortly.  In the meantime, I wish you luck.”

“Thank you, Director,” he handed her his headset and stepped through the door as PRT uniforms opened it.  As if welcoming him into the city proper, there was the sound of a woman screaming down on the street below, the noise turning into a manic laugh in the same breath.

…okay?

Half the block was without power, and searchlights on the corners of the rooftop scanned nearby streets.  PRT guards stood at the edge of the roof, armaments in hand.  He relaxed at the sight of the guards – if they weren’t acting on whatever was going on below, he didn’t need to worry about it.

Fair enough, I guess.

“Eat the paperwork?”

“I mean I’ll do it all, for the members of my team.

Ahaha, apparently Piggot wasn’t familiar with the phrase either. 😛

Or maybe she’s actually had someone literally eat the paperwork before. You never know with these parahumans.

Give you updates after any and all training sessions.  Notes on improvements, lessons learned, weak areas, strengths, resources that could fill any perceived gaps.”

The things he’s listing here are, in themselves, good arguments for why they should do this.

“So long as you’re prepared for me to put a stop to things at any time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

That’s about as much concession as you’re going to get out of Director Piggot, I think.

“And,” the Director paused a moment as the Helicopter touched down on solid ground, “It cannot cut into the regular patrol schedule.  You and your team members would do this outside of the hours you’re on clock for the Wards.”

Sounds reasonable, though the other Wards might not like that.

“I’ll see if I can sell it to them.  Thank you, Director,” Weld stood.

Secretly, he was elated.  The training games he’d led his team through back in Boston had been some of the more fun moments of his career.

😀

I’m glad he’s had some fun times.

It had also allowed for a harmless but fun interaction with the New York group, giving them a chance to mingle, talk and share war stories.

Someone to socialize with and relate to that isn’t part of the usual team. That’s something people tend to need from time to time, I guess.

There was something about being able to mess with others on a level that you couldn’t with teammates you had to fight alongside.  If his new team liked the games half as much as he did, it would be a win in his book.

Hehe. 🙂

“Thank you.”

“Provided all goes according to plan, we intend for you to become a member of the core Protectorate team within the span of three to five years.  Making your face national, even international, if you are willing.”

Sounds like a decent plan.

“Wow.  Yeah, I’m definitely okay with that, ma’am,” he tried to feign surprise.  Armstrong had already covered much of this.

“Of course, this hinges on your ability to lead your team, in the here and now.”

‘course. It’s not enough to just be likable.

“Of course.”

“It seems we will land shortly.  Any questions before we do?”

“One.  I was hoping to arrange interstate training sessions with the New York and Boston Wards groups.  As far as I’m aware, the local team doesn’t do this.  They barely have regular situation training.”

Ooh, this sounds like a good idea. I mean, it doesn’t hurt that it would let him see his old friends once in a while, but yeah, it’s generally a good plan.

“I recall Triumph made a request for something like this, a few years ago.  I believe we refused him on the grounds that it was frivolous.”

But is it, though. Especially in the wake of an Endbringer situation, isn’t it pretty clear that it wouldn’t hurt to train the Ward teams in working together if the situation demands it?

Weld squared his shoulders.  He had to be assertive, here. “I’m firmly of the opinion that it would improve the local team’s ability to cooperate and respond to a greater variety of situations.  I’m totally prepared to eat any and all paperwork on our end.”

Okay so I’m sure “eat the paperwork” is just a figure of speech I haven’t encountered before, meaning to deal with the paperwork, but I can’t help but imagine Weld literally chomping down on a stack of paper like a damn goat. I love it.

And hey, little to no risk of the usual problems with eating paper when your throat is made of metal.