When Bain found the cube he'd been occupying for some time, he instead discovered that it had been fully converted into a ten-story white skyscraper, remodeled to look somewhat modern. It still maintained its cubical shape, but now featured windows in better placements to give an overall feeling of disorganized chaos. There was a steady stream of people walking in and out busily, giving Bain professional nods as he walked in.

It was still a bit surreal if he was honest. He was just walking around casually and nobody was staring at him, or telling their kids to look away, or... anything, really. There was a vague sense of quiet respect that he was completely unused to, and he wasn't at all sure how to react to it.

Walking up to the secretary (there was a secretary!!!), Bain asked tentatively, "Sorry, do you know where I can find Stitches?"

She looked up and smiled at him. "Of course, Bain! He's upstairs in his office. Have a nice day!"

Bain stood there with a blank expression long enough that the secretary looked a bit concerned. "Ummm... Is everything all right?"

He blinked. "Oh, yeah. If you don't mind my asking, what's your name?"

She smiled pleasantly again. The smile went remarkably well with her neat suit and her flawlessly styled blond hair. "My name is Halsey. I'll be working for you for the time being, at least until the Tower selects a more appropriate candidate. Why do you ask?"

He nodded thoughtfully, processing the information. "No reason. You just seem really nice."

Her smile lit up the room. "Why, thank you! I really appreciate that."

Bain smiled awkwardly, making his way over to the brand new elevator. It was pretty roomy, with plenty of headspace for even his bulky figure and reinforced buttons against his claws. It was literally designed with him in mind, as far as he could tell.

As the elevator quietly hummed upwards, Bain once again felt that strange sensation of utterly not belonging. Or was it a feeling of undeserving? It was hard to tell, and it was making him feel a bit confused, on a number of levels.

The elevator opened with a gentle ding, and Bain stepped out into a lavish, spreading office. Several ferns in ceramic pots decorated the sides of the room, with a smooth tiled floor leading up to the solid wooden desk by the window, which extended from wall to wall.

Stitches was seated in a cushy armchair, his boots on the desk as he spoke into a sleek smartphone. "-don't have time to do that right now, we've got to deal with the remainder of the renovations to the territory as a whole." He glanced up and saw Bain, and grinned widely. "Ah, gotta go. My sidekick just got back from his vacation."

Hanging up, Stitches threw his arms wide. "Well? It's pretty nice, right?"

Bain looked around slowly, appreciating the decorations. "Yeah, I guess. Why do we have it, though?"

Stitches shrugged easily. "Being a hero should come with advantages, right?"

Bain squinted at him. "Should it? I don't want to be a hero so I can sit back in a penthouse."

Coming from around the desk, Stitches patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. "Of course! Having stuff isn't the drive for being a hero, it's just a perk of the position. Trust me, you'll get used to it."

Bain wasn't so sure about that. He'd been raised in pitch-black tunnels with probably the most aggressive creature on the planet, and that meant he was used to not having much. It had always felt like a sort of symbol to him, a concrete piece of evidence that he was a genuinely good person without any corruption. Nahma's stance on greed was an adamant one: don't have it. It was at its base a refusal to share one's possessions with another, and it was important to keep any possible advantages flowing between the sheddings.

Shaking his head, Bain started, "I just don't-"

Stitches interrupted, "Oh yeah, almost forgot, the sidekicks are waiting for you on the third floor."

Bain stepped back. "The what!?"

Waving a hand at him, Stitches said, "Yeah, sidekicks. After your abrupt rise in popularity, the Tower decided to hunt for some candidates to assign you as sidekicks."

Bain walked forward uncertainly. "But... but I'm not even a hero yet!"

He shrugged. "Well, the Tower thinks you're ready. Get going, they're not gonna pick themselves and I've got to make a few more calls."

Stepping backward, Bain glanced at the elevator. "You're not coming?"

Stitches shook his head absently. "Nah, I've gotta deal with some of the political stuff about getting all this so fast. For example, Hallow came by demanding his spot back. Turns out Nahma knocked him clean off the spot for the most powerful hero, although he's a good ways away from number one in popularity."

That was worrying on a number of levels, but if there really were people waiting on Bain then he had to go check on them. It wouldn't be polite to do otherwise, however much he wanted to talk with Stitches.

Getting back on the elevator, the last thing Bain saw as it descended was a rather smug expression on Stitches' face as he picked up the phone.

The elevator was fast enough that he didn't have time to think about it, and he arrived on the third floor without much fanfare. A simple waiting room was in front of him, and two of the five chairs were occupied by individuals that could only be described as unusual.

One of them had swept-back brown hair and easily the most average features Bain had ever seen. He was wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, and blue-and-white tennis shoes. He was glancing around curiously, one hand tapping on his left knee repeatedly.

The other was quite a bit more eye-catching. He was lean, with short white hair visible from behind the enormous full-face gas mask he wore. Most of his costume was green and black, several grenade-looking devices strapped to his chest with pipes leading to the bulky oxygen tank on his back. He looked a little sweaty and more than a little nervous, one leg jogging in place.

Either way, neither of them seemed much older than their teens, though Bain wasn't especially surprised. After all, Fancy's sidekick Lacy looked to be not much older than thirteen. These two were probably around eighteen or nineteen... around Bain's age.

The moment Bain walked in, they both stood up, the gas-mask boy abruptly and the casually dressed one respectfully. Looking around, Bain indicated them. "Are you guys the-"

He didn't make it any further than that. The teenager with the gas mask blurted out, "HimynameisToxicandIreallywanttobeyoursidekickpleasedon'tkickmeout!"

Bain blinked. "What?"

The casually dressed teen smiled half-heartedly. "He said his name is Toxic. At least, I think he did." Striding forward, he offered his hand. "My hero name is Counterstrike, but you can call me either Counter or Strike, whichever one works for you."

Bain accepted the handshake gratefully, filing the information that people apparently wanted to give him handshakes now. "Sounds good. It's nice to meet you. I'm Bain."

Counterstrike chuckled. "Yeah, the arms and teeth tipped me off. I've heard a lot about you."

Good things or bad things? The negative thought snuck into Bain's mind despite his best efforts, and it proved difficult to shake away.

Taking a huge breath, the sound distorted from the heavy filters of the gas mask, Toxic walked forward and extended a gloved hand. Now that Bain thought about it, there wasn't an inch of exposed skin anywhere on Toxic's entire outfit. "Sorry about that, I'm just really excited. You're kind of my inspiration."

The words nearly knocked Bain off his feet. As he dazedly shook Toxic's hand, he asked, "What do you mean by that? I haven't done very much actual hero work yet."

Toxic shook his head rapidly. "That's not the point! You're the first real monster to become a hero ever! You set down the foundations for every person with a bad appearance to get accepted as a hero! Like me, for example."

Bain smiled faintly, still a little shell-shocked from the confession. "What do you mean?"

Toxic gestured to all of the equipment he was wearing. "This isn't just part of my costume. Everything about me is seriously toxic. Like, my breath, my sweat, my blood, everything - I'm poisonous from head to toe."

Bain appraised him a bit more carefully. "That sounds... lonely."

Nodding ruefully, Toxic added, "It really is. I can't take this stuff off, ever."

A ding heralded the arrival of the elevator once again, and Bain turned to see the doors open. A familiar face stepped out from them, a massive frizz of curly red hair above her instantly recognizable face that set Bain's nerves on edge in an instant.

Amber waved at him awkwardly. "Uh, hi, Bain. Can we - can we talk?"