Bain stared at the door, hard. He was a little surprised that his eyes weren't boring holes through it if he was honest.

This was not a conversation he wanted to have. In fairness, it wasn't a situation he'd ever wanted or even thought would ever occur, but here he was, standing in front of the door.

Really, it shouldn't have been so dramatic. It was perfectly ordinary for two people to have a conversation, especially if they knew each other with any degree of familiarity. Of course, that was kind of the crux of the matter - how well did Bain actually know the person behind the door?

Nahma was a straightforward conversationalist, if 'conversation' could even be the word used to describe his brutally honest, tense interchanges. Stitches was... difficult. Bain wasn't really sure he wanted to open up that can of worms, to talk about how well he'd duped Bain. Mike was speedy, a rapid subject-changer. It was hard to tell either what he was trying to tell you or what he was telling you. He didn't want to use any of those methods - what he had to say had to come from himself.

Was it going to be like the draining incident with Stitches in the tunnels? He hoped otherwise - he wasn't sure he could take another one of those.

"Bain?"

He turned to see Stitches, looking more than a little concerned for him. He didn't blame the zombie - Nahma was still on the fence on whether or not he should collapse the Tower and be done with it all, and it'd taken an exorbitant amount of reassurance on Bain's part that superheroes were in fact necessary to the fragile ecosystem of Centropolis, disregarding the fact that Nahma wasn't especially affected by any of the politics and issues from up there.

"Yeah?"

"I think you might be procrastinating."

Bain's forehead creased, the ordinarily static plate that his face was made of contracting. "What's that mean?"

Stitches indicated the door. "Putting it off. You should just rip the band-aid off. Get it over with."

Bain sighed. "I know. I just really don't want to do this."

He shrugged. "You're going to have to. It's not going to go away."

Turning to face the door, Bain centered himself. Focused on every nook and cranny in the hallway, on the thick carpet under his talons, on the nigh-imperceptible scratching of the tens of thousands of centipedes infesting the Tower walls.

He should really talk to Nahma about that. Privacy was a right, not a privilege.

Sighing again, Bain realized he was still putting it off, and forced his arm to knock on the door, three sharp raps that he immediately regretted. Was it too loud? It was definitely too loud. Why would-

The door swung open, and Amber looked Bain up and down with a ready smile. "Hey, Bain! I heard you and Stitches got a territory, congratulations! Maybe we're territory neighbors!"

Stitches spoke bluntly. "He knows. About the plan." Having said his piece, he walked away, nodding meaningfully to Bain.

The color drained out of Amber's face, leaving her pale. She nearly fell over, grabbing at the doorpost. Bain didn't move to help her. He wasn't sure what he should be doing with his hands, but he knew for sure he didn't want to help Amber with anything until he knew what her reasons were.

She swallowed hard. "Uhhh... you should probably come in." Bain agreed politely, moving past her and deliberately avoiding touching her in any way.

Her room was nice. It was identical to Bain's in terms of architecture, but Amber had redecorated. Instead of the table and couches in front of a television screen, there was a hefty bag hanging from a chain on the ceiling, a variety of tough-looking fingerless gloves tucked into the shelves nearby. A neon-blue electric guitar rested on its stand next to a heavy-duty black amplifier. It looked worn.

Amber indicated a chair in the corner, next to an identical chair and a small table. "You can sit down if you want to." He did, doing his absolute best to hold in the explosive fury rapidly rising inside him. It was an emotion that had been showing up more and more often - he'd probably have to ask Nahma how he dealt with it.

Placing his legs on top of each other, Bain very calmly folded his hands on his lap. The stump was beginning to expand noticeably at this point, and he had a feeling it'd only be a few more days until his arm was back and as good as new, not that it was a priority at the moment.

The tension was almost tangible.

Amber sat down opposite him, her knee jogging under the table. She seemed uncertain, opening her mouth and closing it several times. "I-" She cut herself off, staring at her clenched hands. "I bet you have questions."

Bain agreed calmly, doing his best to ignore the chilling shudder threatening to crawl up his spine. "A few, yeah. I already went over most of it with Stitches. I wanted to see what you had to say."

She swallowed. "Uh... what about?"

He decided to cut her a slight amount of slack. Not much, though. "Why did you do it?"

Rubbing the back of her head, she avoided his eyes, instead staring at the bag in the corner. "Because... well, because Dad told me to."

Bain wasn't entirely sure how to react to that. He hadn't had very much experience with betrayal, all things considered. He was extremely used to people hating him. Did he try to change those opinions? Yes, constantly, but at least he expected them to start with.

He stayed quiet, and she seemed to get increasingly flustered. "If... if it helps, he didn't ask me to be friends with you. That was all me, I - I decided that on my own. You looked like you needed a friend."

This information he did know how to deal with. He didn't doubt Amber's sincerity - she'd stood up for him in the cafeteria, with very little to gain and quite a bit to lose at the time. This was, more than anything, a chance to see what she thought about him now, and a chance to apologize. That was part of why he was getting increasingly irritated that she hadn't said sorry yet.

"I just - I look up to my dad so much. I saw him fighting bad guys when I was still in diapers, I modeled my fighting style after his, I was his biggest fan. So when he told me I could help the Tower, that I'd be helping every superhero in the city? That crime would end if I could be friends with you?" She sighed. "How could I not jump at that chance?"

Bain finally spoke. "You're not the only one who wanted to be a hero. The difference is that you got to become a hero the moment you were allowed to. Do you know how many times I applied to become a hero? How many times I waited in the tunnels for a response?"

Amber looked up at him anxiously. "Two or three? Four?"

Bain stared her dead in the eyes, and she flinched. "Seventy-four."

Her eyes went wide. "Wh... what? That can't be right! You can only apply once a month! You'd have to have applied every month for-"

He cut in. "Six years and two months. Every first. It didn't matter if it was raining, or if the snow was five feet deep, or if it was a hundred and ten degrees. Every. Single. Month."

Amber put a hand over her mouth, her eyes watering. Bain continued. "I've been trying to be a hero ever since I knew what being a hero was. I've been trying to become a hero ever since I started reading comics out of a dumpster. I've been trying to become a hero ever since I saw a hero save someone, and then get mobbed by fans. People who loved him because he saved them. Not because he was tall or ugly or whatever he looked like, but because he wanted to help people."

She opened her mouth, but he spoke over her. "I've been kicked out of more stores than I can count. I've had to file I don't even know how many biased attack forms. Do you have any idea what that's like? To know that everyone who sees you wants to either attack you or run from you?"

It didn't look as though she could really talk, so he stood up. "Anyway, I wanted to see what you had to say before Stitches and I headed to our territory. Nobody's defending it right now, so that job's up to us. There, I'm going to be a hero. I'm going to be the hero they can talk to. The guy they can ask to protect them, not the monster they need to be protected from." He turned to leave. There wasn't anything else to say, as far as he was concerned.

"I want to be friends with you." He glanced over his shoulder at her. She was wringing her hands, which were sparking lightly. "I want to be the kind of hero I can be proud of. I can't be that hero if I know I betrayed you and let you leave without saying sorry."

His eyes narrowed. "And Firepower?"

She looked down. "He's... He's my dad. I don't think he really knows you that well, or else I'm sure he wouldn't have said the things he did. He's a really good hero, I promise! It's just... he's having a hard time too."

That... was all Bain really needed to hear. He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Amber."

That threw her off guard. "What? Why?"

He spoke his final words as he exited. "Because I wanted to be friends with you too."