Peace and silence were all that greeted the editor as he slowly returned back to consciousness.

Well, that, and a rather bright sunbeam streaming in through an open window to land directly on his eyes. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just enough of a change for Ryan’s still-waking mind to command an arm to block the offending sunlight by resting it on his brow.

Blessed darkness returned again, though the corners of Ryan’s mind were still lighting back up in the background. It took several minutes before the natural laziness that followed any deep sleep began to wear off and Ryan had his first actual thought in what felt like a long time.

Unsurprisingly, it was about what his subconscious had just done.

My… arm? My arms!

Ryan’s eyes snapped open as he bolted upright. He lifted both of the forearms he’d just singed near clean off in his battle against the mayor and--

-- and they were fine. Perfectly fine, normal, human hands. Apart from the deep mahogany streak running through his wooden arm and the copper red mixed with sky blue patterns that played across the rest of the editor’s skin.

A deep sigh of relief escaped him as Ryan’s sudden panic faded as quickly as it’d come. He laid back down, closing his eyes to enjoy the cool breeze coming through the window.

For a few quiet moments, he allowed himself to think of nothing. To relax.

To savor his victory.

Then, for what he dearly hoped was the last time in his life, Ryan sat up and pulled the clean white gown given to all Arborville Doctors’ Hospital patients over his head. To his left was a metal tray covered with a large lid, which he leaned over to open. Inside the covering was a simple breakfast, the sort of plain hospital fair Ryan had eaten a hundred times.

A smattering of scrambled eggs undoubtedly poured from a carton, some lightly seasoned hash browns, an apple, a mostly-crisp waffle, and a small glass of orange juice. Next to that were also four protein bars - Magic Mound Madness flavor - stacked neatly atop one another.

Ryan grinned and brought the tray over to the bed. Then he dug in with the gusto of a man who had earned his meal.

After enjoying the simple pleasure of a warm breakfast on a cool day for as long as his food lasted, Ryan finally turned his thoughts to what needed to be done. First, he created a comfortable set of clothes to put on: some jeans, a shirt, and a nice pair of brown leather shoes - all of them fireproof.

It was unlikely someone would attempt to set him on fire in the hospital, especially now, but the little bit of extra caution went a long way toward combating the vision of his own melting hands Ryan saw when he closed his eyes.

After a few more minutes to center himself, Ryan reached for the door.

Waiting for him on the other side were several welcome and familiar faces. Lucas, Michael, and Sheila. All three were chatting amicably next to their own metal trays in some cozy looking chairs that definitely hadn't come from the hospital. Unsurprisingly, it was Lucas who noticed the editor first.

“Ryan!” Lucas said, getting to his feet. The others turning around in their chairs as he did.

“Look who’s finally awake!” Michael said, a grin spreading across his face. Checking his watch, he added. “How was your 20-hour nap?”

“A man needs his beauty sleep.” Ryan protested as he walked over and gave the big wolf a solid, manly handshake that quickly morphed into a grinning embrace.

“Glad to see you’re still with us.” Lucas said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion. The pair pulled back, though Lucas kept his eyes locked on Ryan’s. “I… owe you an apology… When Smith pulled you out of there, you were all blood and no color.”

Ryan let his friend talk, but shook his head. “It’s not your fault, man. You should’ve seen what was in there.”

“Oh we did.” Sheila chimed in. The dwarf woman got out of her own chair and clapped Ryan on the back. “I saw the holes in the stone from yer battle, lad. You took out a whole cave of ‘em!”

“Did more than just that.” Michael added from his chair. With one leg and an arm wrapped in a cast, Michael waited for the others to come back to him. Once they had, the man continued. “When you killed Marcus, his control fell off everyone else.

Relief washed through Ryan. That had been the big ‘what if’ question in their planning. The one they couldn’t answer until the deed was done. Already seated, Ryan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as the news washed over him - taking all his remaining stress with it.

The editor remembered the dozens of police officers, enforcers, and all those people who had been still in helmets when he’d fallen. And now they’re all free.

“So the whole town is… freed? We’re all good, then?” Ryan asked, a smile on his face even as his eyes were closed. The silence that followed his statement made him reopen his eyes.

Michael’s gaze didn’t waver as he met Ryan’s eyes, but the muscles in his one remaining arm were tight on the couch. “... mostly. There were still… casualties.”

Ryan waited for more, then looked at Lucas - who nodded at Michael.

Taking a deep breath, Michael continued. “Kurta and Sherry, to name a few… but Lucas tells us you can bring back the dead now?”

“Only with enough energy.” Ryan said quickly, raising both hands as if to ward off a request. “And it’s an insane amount, I’d need something like--”

“-- access to a power plant?” Michael finished for him, raising an eyebrow with a small smile.

There was a pause as Ryan digested that information. Access to so much energy, without having to fight or scavenge for it… was pretty much a dream come true at this point. When the editor thought about all the energy he’d pulled just from a farm’s backup generator…

Ryan tried to keep his own grin off his face as he responded.

“I mean, if that’s all you’ve got…”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright.” Ryan said, placing one hand on Carrie’s body and hovering the other a few inches away from a large power cable next to an angry, red “DO NOT TOUCH” sign inside the city power plant. “I’m not entirely sure how this is going to work so… if it doesn’t, we can just try again.”

Lucas, silent as he had been since retrieving his wife’s body from Sheila’s storage container, simply nodded. Michael kept watch at the door’s entrance next to the dark dwarf herself, and a few from base who’d helped bring along the rest of their fallen.

“You should probably step back.” Ryan added. “Just in case.”

With a last glance at his dead wife, the big wolfman did as he was bid. His kids were not present - having not been told their mother was ‘dead’ in the first place. Lucas was hoping to break that truth to them later, and just tell them she’d been chasing the bad guys since the attack on their base.

Ryan was hoping for much the same.

With a last nod at his friend, Ryan pulled up his power and reached for the power cable.

Would you like to drain and channel the energy in this power cable towards paying the resurrection cost of Carrie Fulmon? Yes, or no?

Warning: Cost has been significantly increased due to time elapsed since death. Cost will still be paid by the reserves within this source.

Accepting it, Ryan felt a surge of energy like he’d never felt before jolt into his fingers and arc through his chest. Bolts of crackling blue electricity scattered across his skin in wide, irregular patterns accompanied by tiny thunderclaps that echoed around them.

While his upgraded body was equipped to handle the process without pain, the sensation was one his mind had only ever associated as pain before. Like ten thousand flaming needles had stimulated every nerve from his fingertips to his chest, then back down his other arm.

Or like holding an actual live wire.

Despite the maelstrom of energy passing through Ryan, what captured the attention of everyone in the room was Carrie.

The female werewolf’s body hadn’t been covered in a magic-like glow, nor had it jumped when the massive amount of energy Ryan was pouring into it had started. Instead, her wounds had silently and soundlessly begun to heal themselves.

Her grey wolf-flesh began to grow, covering exposed bones that knitted themselves back together and then pushed of their own volition back into their rightful places. Carrie’s fur shot through burned skin as charred flesh fell away. Her stomach and limbs appeared to re-inflate as fresh blood was created and extensive internal damage was repaired.

Though the wolf form she’d died in had little in the way of coloring to its skin, Carrie’s face became noticeably more hale. Instead of a barely recognizable burnt husk, the intimidating form of the stoic woman they’d known in life emerged from her injuries. Even the few scars she’d gained in battle where fur no longer grew fell away, replaced by fresh skin and soft fur.

When her eyes opened, the intensity in them was as fierce as Ryan had ever seen. Her fur bristled and she bolted upright, jerking her arm away from his. The editor briefly wondered if she was about to attack before Lucas rushed in, pulling his wife into a tight embrace.

“You’re back.” Lucas whispered in a voice so soft Ryan could barely hear him. “You’re really back!”

Carrie looked momentarily confused, but reached for her husband anyway and returned his affection. Sheila gave Ryan a quick hand signal to give the couple some space - something he was already moving out of the room to do. Michael shut the door behind them, his eyes beginning to fog with tears and his expression unreadable.

There was silence for a moment, as everyone present - Sheila, Michael, Smith, and most of the adults who’d joined Ryan and survived their battles together - stared at him. Most held expressions of awe, or of hope. A few seemed unsure, maybe even afraid.

Ryan couldn’t blame them. It was one thing to hear someone claim they might be able to bring back the dead.

It was something altogether different to see the truth of that claim in person.

“You… actually did it.” Michael breathed, almost as if he didn’t believe his own words. “I didn’t, I mean--”

“I didn’t either.” Ryan said quietly, then he looked to the rest of those who’d given their lives in the fight to free Arborville from a ruthless tyrant. “Let’s get the rest lined up, I want to try and bring our people back as quickly as I can. My power said the cost increased ‘substantially’ because of how long she’d been gone and I want to make sure this plant still has enough juice in it for me to use.”

It was Sheila who moved first, ordering the various storage containers to be arranged in a line that led up to one of the power cables running out from the building within easy reach. They’d only used the room just inside the building for experimentation. Now that they knew it worked…

Ryan could get busy on bringing his people back. Rolling up his sleeves and shaking out the lingering prickling sensation in his fingers, the editor began doing just that.

Sherry, Kurt, John… Every single person who had fought and died alongside him.

Ryan brought them all back to life, one by one.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late in the evening when Ryan finally reconvened with his friends and those of his inner circle. They’d all agreed to meet at one of the local restaurants that had reopened under new branding, Flamewings, named for the fire-wreathed pigeons they now used in making their specialty dishes. The party room in the back was already full of sizzling, delicious-smelling food by the time he arrived.

Though there was much to be done back at base, the team had collectively decided a day off was in order. Most of the town - on hearing that Marcus was finally dead and not only had their families returned to them but a treasure trove of food supplies had been found - had come to the same conclusion. Fireworks and other festivities were being shot off all over town with the kind of regularity normally reserved for major holidays.

For most of the meal, everyone was content to just… relax. Bawdy jokes were thrown about, good food was eaten, and stories of times before super powers had changed the world were exchanged on all sides. It wasn’t until night had truly fallen, and bellies had been truly filled, that anyone gave serious thought to the future.

“So, what’s next there, fearless leader?” Lucas asked, his arm still around Carrie - where it had been for most of the night. Their kids, already fast asleep, leaned up against each other along the wall behind them.

“What’s next?” Ryan echoed curiously, eyeballing the last piece of apple pie that he was fairly certain was fair game by now.

“I think he means what’s our next plan. Marcus is dead, the town is free… but the world outside has changed.” Carrie said. She gestured with one finger in a circle, indicating everyone seated at the table. “Are we still…. ‘Us’? Still a group? We’re all still bound by that blood-oath.”

“Blood-oath?” Michael asked.

“He didn’t ask me to swear a blood-oath.” Smith said.

“Nor me.” Kurt added. The trio turned raised eyebrows on Ryan.

“We can add you to it later.” Ryan said dismissively, then turned towards Lucas as he tactically acquired the last slice of brown-sugar-apple-goodness for himself. “As for what’s next… I think we should start looking into who Marcus’s mysterious backer was.”

“The Patriot.” John said. “You mentioned him earlier.”

“I did. Supposedly--” Ryan took a bite of his pie. “--he controls a few states already.”

“And you want us to help you go piss in his cheerios.” Sheila guessed.

“Eventually.” Ryan agreed after savoring his first bite for a good, long moment. “Right now though? We need to build. Fortify. Contact other towns, figure out what’s going on. For all we know, this guy has crowned himself the new god-emperor of Texas or something.”

“He might not even exist.” Smith said. “Maybe Marcus was just playing games with you.”

Ryan made a noncommittal shrug, acknowledging the point as he grabbed another bite of pie.

“I heard rumors earlier that someone managed to get the internet working again.” Lily said. The young biologist was seated directly to Ryan’s right, a spot she’d been quite firm on taking when she’d arrived. “Maybe we could use that to get information?”

“One of my clones heard someone got a cell phone working, too. Whatever Marcus had going to block signals must’ve gone down when you shorted out the power plant.” Michael added.

The power plant, perhaps unsurprisingly, hadn’t lasted after Ryan had spent a half hour or so draining it like a juice box. It had taken quite a few points from some of its backup stores for Ryan to get it working again. And while he’d managed to resurrect all of his people eventually, the plant had died again shortly after.

Luckily, his power didn’t require him to have working knowledge on how to fix something in order for him to do so. It just required the energy and did the rest for him - a fact for which Ryan was constantly grateful. He’d get around to fixing it again soon. And upping its fault tolerance, for starters.

“If phones are workin’ again, then it won’t be long before we know what’s out there.” Sheila said confidently. She looked over at Ryan. “I say we ditch the base we had and make the whole damn city our new one.”

“You think people would go for that?” Kurt asked.

“You think they wouldn’t?” Smith countered. “Half of them have holed up in their own homes for weeks. Now, thanks to us--” The officer indicated Ryan with his fork. “--and him, they don’t have to be.”

Michael nodded. “People will rally if we make them a part of it. And after what Marcus did, if Ryan here can give them a way to defend themselves for next time?”

“You think they’ll jump at the chance?” Lucas asked. “No offense, but people weren’t exactly rolling out the welcome carpet for us before the mayor went down.”

“Can’t really blame them for that, can we?” Carried countered. “Before Ryan, everyone who tried to take him down was killed.”

“Or worse.” Smith added.

“Or worse.” Carrie agreed.

Ryan, who had finally finished off his more than satisfying slice of pie, rejoined the conversation. “I think we’re getting off track here.” The editor looked at Sheila. “I think you’re right. If we’re going to stand any chance against a guy taking over entire states… we’re going to need at least one town to defend from. Even if it’s only to keep him from rolling right over us.”

Heads nodded around the table at his words, so Ryan continued.

“So as for what’s next, I vote we bring the whole town in on this. Anyone who doesn’t want to be a part - fine, but they’re not getting my help unless they’re putting something in. We’ll build up, figure out what we can about what’s been going on as we do it, and then start expanding out to help who we can from there. I’m sure there are more towns like ours that need it - and I for one plan on giving it to them.”

A part of him had worried that the band might not all be in on that last part of his plan - and he hadn’t meant to share it yet. But if Ryan was going to keep moving forward, he had to know his friends were up for what that meant.

“I’m with you.” Lucas said immediately.

“I am too.” Lily said, almost as quickly. Sheila, John, and Carrie weren’t far behind - each voicing their assent to join him.

“I’m in… pending this whole blood-oath thing.” Michael said with a fake-cautious grin. “Sounds kinda shifty.”

“I’m in regardless of the blood-oath thing.” Smith said. “Helping people is my jam.”

“I am also in. After we figure that ‘oath’ thing out.” Kurt said with a smile.

“Yeah, you should really work on the whole necromancer vibe you’ve got going on.” Michael said. “Blood oaths and bringing people back from the dead? You start wearing black robes and I’m packing up.”

There was a round of laughter at that, and the topic changed to something a bit more light-hearted. Plans for the city were brought up, debated, and dispensed with or jotted down. Ridiculous strategies to fight the god-emperor of Texas were pitched only to be shot down by even more insane suggestions.

Ryan leaned back and enjoyed it all. He drank it in, savoring the change in the air. For once since he’d woken up, there was no longer an undercurrent of tension in the room. Despite an uncertain future, and even more uncertain challenges, his friends - his family - were optimistic about meeting them.

It was the kind of change that did a body good. Did the soul some good. And after everything they’d been through, Ryan couldn’t get enough of it.

The hours wound down however, and eventually his new family returned to their homes. Now that they could safely do so, even if their home was mostly destroyed - several chose to do so. Any who didn’t wish to were still welcome back at base - but relatively few chose that option.

For his part, Ryan did something he hadn’t even considered doing since waking up.

He went home.

The editor’s house was still much as he’d remembered it when he arrived. Tucked away in a relatively decent - but not too decent - neighborhood that his dad had picked out mostly for its affordability after Ryan’s medical bills had mounted, the brick building seemed to have survived the last few weeks relatively intact. A few broken windows here. A few destroyed sections of lawn or broken garage door bits there. But, overall, intact.

Much like his own life, the pieces were still there to rebuild if Ryan wanted to.

All save one, that is. Ryan thought, glancing at one of his father’s cars in the driveway. It would be a while before he really came to terms with that loss he knew, but for now Ryan was really looking forward to sleeping in his own bed. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too many points to fix whatever state it was in.

A letter on the front step caught his eye as Ryan got to the door. It was addressed to him, with no return address, and he felt like he recognized the floral print of the envelope.

Sure enough, the handwriting inside was his Aunt’s. A small map fell out when he tore open the envelope, which he caught before it could fall to the ground.

Dear Ryan,

I hope this letter finds you well. Your Uncle and I, along with your Cousin and his new Wife, have decided not to return to the family farm. It is now yours if you want it. Enclosed are directions to find the new place your Uncle has put together for us - they should only be readable by you. We expect the pleasure of your company at your earliest convenience - though be sure you’re safe about getting here with everything going on.

With all our love and affection - and hope for your wellbeing,

Auntie Ann

P.S. I’ve been working on some of my new abilities dear, and I think we may have a lead on your mother’s whereabouts. We should talk when you have time. I’ll make you all the biscuits you can eat.

News that his mother had managed to survive this super-pocalypse was easily the best cherry atop his day that Ryan could have asked for. He resolved to visit his aunt and uncle as soon as time allowed.

As he unlocked the door with his power and turned the knob, Ryan made a few other decisions as well.

He still needed to find - and probably rescue - Percival and his twin from wherever they’d portal’d off to. The ‘Patriot’ was obviously still a concern he couldn’t let go - but there had to have been more men like him backing Marcus. Ryan intended to find them, and get some answers.

Still need to find Renee, too. Ryan thought, remembering his one-time lover who had taken off in search of her little sister. Can’t have her becoming another Marcus.

Though his head was still swirling about with plans for the future, Ryan’s heart was content as he entered his old home - walking on his own two feet - for the first time in years.

It was a small thing, maybe. Just a few steps over a simple stone threshold onto the hardwood floor.

But it felt like so much more.

A new beginning.

A new destiny.

A new life.

One that Ryan now had the power to shape into whatever he wanted.

With a grin, the editor threw his hands up in the air and shouted the activation command to the prompt he’d just pulled up. The code word he’d first used to summon his power. A joke that was still funny to him, even after all this time.

“FOR PONY!”