(For predictions, see the end of 15.1 post.)

She left the office, stepping outside into the too-bright outdoors, leaving the reunion to play on the screen.

That was all she needed to know.

Carol watched as the girl stepped out of the elevator.  She pulled off a gas mask and let it drop to the floor.  A small crowd was gathering around her, others from her cell block checking out the new resident.

I feel like some of the Brockton Bay inmates may treat Amy better than they would most new inmates. Amy has probably helped a lot of them in her day, including Lung.

How long would it take?

She would have asked Dragon, but her breath was caught in her throat.

I mean, if Marquis heard that announcement, I can’t imagine he wouldn’t come running, even if it broke with his usual calm and collected aesthetic.

He appeared two minutes later, as a woman who must have been the self-imposed leader of Cell block E was talking to Amy.

For a moment there I read “He appeared two minutes later as a woman” and was very confused.

Despite all the reaction images I have used from it today, this isn’t El Goonish Shive.

He looks older.

Well, yes.

Somehow Carol had imagined Marquis had stayed as young and powerful as the day they’d last fought.  The day she’d met Amy.  But there were lines in his face.  He looked more distinguished, even, but he looked older.

Sometimes we don’t realize things can change while we’re not looking at them. I suppose that’s the other edge of object permanence.

Not the bogeyman that had haunted her.

And that’s Lung behind him.

I hope they’re still good buddies.

Was Lung an enforcer for Marquis?  It was hard to imagine.  Or were they friends?  That was simultaneously easier and harder to picture.  But it was somehow jarring, as if it instilled a sort of realism in an otherwise surreal picture.

Because it makes them seem more human?

That’s this story in a nutshell, isn’t it. Revealing the humanity of both heroes and villains to instill a sense of realism in the surreal world of parahumans.

For an hour or so, she occupied herself by reading the pamphlets and the back covers of books.  Reading a novel was too much.

Somewhere along the line, she nodded off.  She was glad for the sunlight that streamed in through the window, the glare of the florescent bulbs overhead.  Recent events had stirred her old fears of the dark.

This whole bit, us actually seeing the wait instead of time skipping… I like it. It’s very somber, very… relatable, actually, like the wait at a hospital. And it gives us insight into how Carol feels in the downtime, when things aren’t constantly Happening™.

It didn’t feel like hours had passed when she was woken by Dragon’s voice.  “Carol.”

She walked over to the screen.

Time for an awkward reunion.

It was a surveillance camera image.  The camera zoomed in on a door.  An elevator door, perhaps.  It whisked open.

“Would you like sound?”

“It doesn’t really matter.  Yes.”

I certainly would.

A second later, the sound cut in.  An announcement across the prison PA system: “-one-two, Amy Dallon, AKA Amelia Lavere, AKA Panacea.  Cell block E.“

Lavere.

You know what? While I can tell it’s a Francophone name, I really like a little linguistic coincidence at play here. Because in Norwegian, “lavere” means “lower”, “further down”. Considering Amy’s downward spiral, which as far as I can tell hit its lowest point in this chapter where Marquis’ (or her mother’s?) surname is revealed, that’s very appropriate.

“It isn’t.  There’s a bridge between the male and female sections of the Baumann center.”

Carol nodded.  “Then I have to see.  Please.”

“It’s going to be the better part of a day before she arrives.”

Yeah, might have to wait a bit for that one.

Still, I want to see it too. Can we have a final time skip?

“I’ll wait.  If I fall asleep, will you please wake me?”

“Of course.”

Dragon didn’t venture a goodbye, or any further condolences.  Her face disappeared from the screen, replaced by a spinning logo, showing the Guild’s emblem on one side and the Protectorate’s shield on the other.

Because she’s part of both. Though we still hardly know what the Guild even is.

I kinda wish their emblem would be described here. I’m guessing an anvil or a hammer or something like that.

Carol waited patiently for hours, her mind a blank.  She couldn’t dwell on the past, or she’d lose her mind.  There was nothing in the present, and the future… she couldn’t imagine one.  She couldn’t envision being with Mark without Victoria.  Couldn’t imagine carrying on life as Brandish.

Damn.

It sounds like the kids were the ones holding everything together.

And then they fell apart.

Perhaps she would continue filing.  Something simpler than criminal law, something lower stress.  At least for a little while.

Yeah, sounds good to me.