"Where are we going?"

Bain walked along the hallway, covering his eyes with a massive hand. The carpet underneath him bowed beneath his weight, and a strangely burnt smell floated through the air. "I'm starting to think you're leading me to a prank."

Stitches sounded serious when he responded. "Trust me. Just keep your eyes closed and keep walking. I'm not going to let you hit anything."

A snag in the carpet came up underneath Bain's foot, and a thread hooked on his talons. Tilting forward, Bain's breath hitched as his brain tried to figure out why forward was now down. Eyes snapping open, a blur of color crashed into his retinas full force, temporarily blinding him. Throwing his arms out in front of him, he tried to land properly. Instead, his claws sank into the floor.

His eyes adjusted, and he blinked several times to get the floaters out of his vision. He was staring at a purple carpet, diamond-patterned with blue flowers, and green veins were sewn into it. It looked a little bit fake, as there was a clear plastic lining holding the edges together.

Bain heard Stitches laughing, and yanked his claws out of the floor, growling as he did, "I thought you weren't going to let me hit anything."

Stitches rubbed a tear out of his eye, smiling good-naturedly. "Yeah, and I was true to my word. You didn't run into anything. You tripped all on your own."

Bain sighed, carefully picking stray threads out of his claws and talons, shredding them into dust. "I tripped on a bump, all right? I'm not that clumsy."

Stitches nodded understandingly, and Bain frowned. "You're not going to bring this up later, are you?"

He only received a huge smile in response.

Shaking his head, Bain looked around at the hallway, taking in the high ceilings and wide floor. Everything seemed to be lined with either steel or tough wood. He ran a claw against a noticeable dent on the wall, one of many that he could see. Most of them either led up to or lined up with the serious-looking uniformly similar doors at even intervals down the hallway, and there was an uncomfortable amount of scorch marks lining the walls.

Turning to Stitches, he shrugged. "Okay. I give up. Where are we?"

The smile on Stitches' face seemed to be incapable of leaving. It was an unusually positive expression, and Bain briefly wondered what exactly was going on.

"Well..." Stitches walked past him and several of the rooms, finally arriving at a door with a metal nameplate on it.

Bain leaned closer to examine it, and his eyes widened. Looking at Stitches, he gasped, "Seriously?"

The grin impossibly widened further and Stitches threw the door open wide, gesturing for Bain to go in. "Take it away, bud."

Bain walked in, and his jaw dropped.

The room had a high ceiling, about eleven feet, and was made of white, spiky plaster. Massive, rough oak beams were interspersed evenly on the ceiling, stretching across the sixty-foot room. The clean gray walls were mostly undecorated, although the glass back of the room gave it a more open feel. A white marble counter split the room, a kitchenette on the right and a cozy living room on the other. Although the fireplace was unlit, the television and consoles above it likely would have made George salivate. Several odd pieces of abstract art were placed intermittently around the place, adding to the modern aesthetic, and a large rope-bound pole stretched to the ceiling from the corner. Everything was sized upwards, clearly intended for larger-than-average people.

Walking around, Bain gingerly picked up a piece of art, examining it, and then set it back down. Moving over to the seventy-two-inch screen, he selected a remote and turned it on. As it flicked on with static feedback, Bain's eyes glinted with amazement.

Rushing to the back left of the main room, he passed through a door and entered a pristine white bedroom. The bed took up most of the space all on its own, a huge plain piece of furniture with nondescript gray sheets and giant pillows. He patted it carefully, then sat down, testing its strength as he bounced up and down. He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing it with the back of his hand.

There was another door to one side of the bedroom, and as he entered, he realized it was a bathroom. An oversized shower occupied the right side of the relatively small room, although the showerhead looked more like a pressure washer than anything else. The toilet was clean and, along with what seemed to be everything in the suite, much larger than average.

Reentering the main room, Bain saw Stitches leaning next to the now-closed entry door, grinning smugly. "Well? What'd you think?"

Bain approached him slowly, trying not to leave indents on the fluffy smoky carpet. "This - this is mine?" He rubbed his eyes quickly. He didn't want to ruin anything with acid.

Stitches nodded. "Yup. Figured if you were going to be a hero, you'd need a place to stay when we're doing full-on hero missions, so I thought this would do the trick. Most of this floor is for the more... volatile heroes, most of which tend to be pretty huge, so I thought you'd fit right in. I dunno what sort of hobbies you got, but I asked 'em to put in a scratching post for you. Don't know if you're ever gonna use it, but it's there either way. I mean, I know your buddy George plays video games over at the arcade, but I wasn't sure if-"

He was cut off as Bain lifted him off the ground in a massive hug, and his eyes grew wide as Bain applied more pressure. The quiet sounds of bones popping in places they'd never been popped briefly filled the air. "Bain." He managed to get the word out despite his slightly crushed lungs. "Put me down."

Bain set him down, rubbing his eyes again with the back of his hand. "I can't believe this."

Stitches shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal. I mean, it's just a room in the end."

Bain shook his head violently. "Maybe for some people, but this is the first room I've ever had. I can't ever thank you enough for this."

Stitches reconsidered what he'd been saying as he remembered that Bain had lived in tunnels his whole life. "Oh. Well - you're welcome, I guess." He waited awkwardly for a moment as he wondered what exactly he was supposed to do now, then remembered. He smiled widely. "Oh yeah, I forgot. Your neighbor wanted to say hi."

He tilted his head curiously. "Who's my neighbor?"

The door opened to reveal a familiar flame-themed costume, and Bain's expression evolved into full-on fanboy glee. "Firepower! What are you doing here?" A thought occurred to him and an enormous grin split his face. "Are you my neighbor?"

The hero wasn't wearing his trademark welding mask/biker's helmet, leaving his singed brown hair to curl up around his sharp features and perpetually confident expression. His blue eyes practically shone with adventure, or at least that's what it looked like to Bain. He chuckled his amusement, walking in and gently punching Bain in the lower shoulder. "I see you weren't joking about being a fan, but I never would have guessed ole' deadbreath here would take you under his wing."

Stitches glared at him. "When are you gonna drop the nickname?"

Firepower's grin extended further. "I'll drop the nickname when your morning breath freshens up."

Stitches gave up and indicated the doorway. "You goin' to introduce her, or not?"

Bain's forehead furrowed. "Introduce who?"

"That'd be me!"

A young woman entered, an intense grin on her face and a spark of excitement in her brown eyes. She pulled her blond ponytail over her shoulder, careful not to snag it on the red jacket covering a white tanktop. It left her lean stomach exposed above the red shorts and, further down, matching tennis shoes.

She immediately approached Bain, extending one hand in a handshake. "Salutations! I'm your neighbor. My name's Amber. I'm also Firepower's sidekick, by the way."

Bain stared at her hand as though someone had offered him a diamond, and she pulled back slightly, an eyebrow raised quizzically. "Uhhh... have you never shaken someone's hand? Mr. Toast here told me you don't have great social skills 'cos you were raised by a giant centipede, which is freaky, but - you know what, I'll just let you talk." She waited for his response, an eager smile on her face. Firepower looked like he wanted to say something about the nickname, but Stitches nudged him and he stayed quiet.

Bain blinked. "No one's ever offered to shake my hand before."

She winced. "Oof, that's tough. I guess I'll be your first, then."

Extending her hand again, her smile reignited full force. "All right, let's do this again. My sidekick name is Heat n' Greet, but most people just call me Amber. You're Bain, right?"

Carefully, as though it would vanish from his sight, Bain took the hand and shook it tentatively. "Uh, yes. How long have you been Firepower's sidekick? I feel like that'd be big news."

She shook his hand enthusiastically, avoiding the claws. "Yeah, I've only been his sidekick for a few weeks. How about you? Toast says Stitches beats up his sidekicks really bad if they can handle it."

Bain winced as he remembered that first fight. "Two days, I think. I got knocked out for some of it."

Amber nodded dutifully. "Yeah, I guess Toast was right about Stitches."

Bain tilted his head. "Why do you call him that?"

Firepower complained, "Oh, please don't-" Amber launched straight into the story, grinning hugely as Stitches leaned forward, clearly excited to obtain more potential blackmail.

"So, we're fighting this bad guy, right? Some small-timer name Yeastly or something like that, I don't remember. Anyway, he was throwing bread at Firepower, and he was just shrugging it off. It kept burning and burning, and piling up, and afterwards, he smelled like toast for the rest of the week."

She sat back, pleased with her elaborate story. Stitches slumped backwards, muttering something about false advertising.

Bain blinked. "Oh."

There was a short, loaded silence, and then Amber asked, "So, how about that centipede? My dad's an accountant, so I don't really know what that's like."

Bain perked up. Nahma was his favorite person, hands-down. "Oh. Well, he's really good at protecting things. He's been taking care of the subway for a really long time."

Stitches patted Firepower on the shoulder, heading out. "All right, I think Amber's got this. You up for a light spar?" Firepower snorted, following him. "Light spar? Last time you said that, Tinker had to replace half the training room. You know..." His voice faded as the two veterans walked down the outside hallway.

Amber nodded her interest. "So, what territory does Stitches cover? Firepower's got Ninth and Harding through-"

Bain finished for her. "Sixth and Lincoln, I know. He's the fourth most powerful hero at the moment, and the second most popular. I try to keep tabs on the really cool heroes."

Amber indicated him with a grandiose gesture. "So? Where's he got?"

Bain thought about it. "I don't really know, actually. He hasn't brought it up."

The territory system was a simple one. Any super could essentially have a mayorship over one or more city blocks, most of which ranged from a quarter-mile to several miles. You could request certain adjustments to be made to the block to better suit your abilities, though it was uncommon for the entire block to be affected. The more territory you protected, the faster your Rep went up. The higher your Rep was, the more you were paid by the Tower, although they refused to pay villains.

Despite that, there were still some supervillains who acquired their own territories and used them for who knew what. Once a villain settled in, they were like a mushroom. You'd have to dig up the whole root system in order to get them all the way out.

Deadman, for example, had taken over the territory on Thirty-Seventh and Pennington a while back and set up an army with stunning speed. Heroes had started working overtime to try and uproot the necromantic villain, and while they managed a good fight, they only managed to convince him to stay inside his boundaries. He might as well be a prisoner in the middle of the city for all the 'power' he possessed. It wasn't uncommon to see protesters outside the territory, although everyone knew that once a person was bitten, it was lights-out.

Lost in thought, Bain completely missed what Amber was talking about and snapped back to reality uncomfortably. "What?"

Amber blinked. "Uh, I was asking if I could meet your dad. Is that okay?"

Bain shrugged. "I guess. I don't - I don't really know if he'd be all right with it. He doesn't like humans very much."

She waved it away airily. "Ahh, I'm sure it'll be fine. He wouldn't hurt one of your friends, right?"

Bain's ears popped, and he slammed a hand into the side of his head, trying to get them working again. After a short moment, he stared at her, eyes wide. "We're friends?"

Amber snorted. "Of course we're friends."

Bain nodded to himself, processing. "Right. We're friends."

Checking her smart watch, Amber started. "Oh shoot, I've got to get to my practice routine. See you tomorrow, Bain!" She was out the door before he could process she'd left, and he was left in the room - his room - by himself.

He slowly repeated, "We're friends."