“It was an initiative to put all the supervillains that normal prisons couldn’t contain far away from where they could hurt people. Is it really so surprised that a jail built for such people on the ocean floor failed so spectacularly?”

- “The Many Failings of the Regulation” Article 53.

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“-rks the thirty third anniversary of the Hundred-Hour Day coming to a close. This event is widely recognized as the first supernatural event to occur, with some calling it the “Harbinger of the Supernatural”. At the closing of this event the total death toll has been estimated to be over 1,200,000 in total. We have an expert on the subject on air today, Dr. Gasper Felwyr.”

“Thank you for having me on, Don.”

“Could you introduce yourself, so the folks at home know who I’m talking to?”

“Of course. I’m Gasper Felwyr. I have a doctorate. I studied at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology. It has a norwegian name, but it’s fairly difficult for english speakers to pronounce.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’ve also managed to have a law named after me.”

“And won the nobel prize.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Haha. I wouldn’t dream of it. So, Gasper, what is the take on the Hundred-Hour day from the scientific community?”

“Well, Don, it’s simply baffling. The resources we had back then pale in comparison to what we have today. Especially with Adepts appearing and revolutionising parts of the industry every few years.”

“With Vphones being a good example.”

“Exactly. We have technology now that is capable of recording particles and energies we could have only dreamed of thirty four years ago. But at the same time, most supernatural phenomena can be recorded by the devices we had back then. Several power measurements back in the day involved hooking up powered individuals to machines that were nothing more than voltmeters when you broke them down. A barbaric practice now, but it told us essentially the same things as current technologies.”

“So Gasper, how does this relate back to the Hundred-Hour Day?”

“There was no indication that any event of any kind was going to occur. When an A-13 begins to manifest, there’s electromagnetic disturbances up to thirty hours in advance. It gives us an early warning whenever one is about to appear.”

“A-13?”

“Sorry. A Theta class creature. Or a monster. It’s a general term I’ve become used to using.”

“Don’t worry about it. So the Hundred-Hour Day didn’t have any warning at all?”

“None at all. It’s part of why the death toll of the event became so high. At 1am Pacific Standard Time, everything was fine. Five minutes later the sun had vanished, but the entire surface of the world was somehow illuminated and the nighttime drivers in Spain were blinded by the sudden light. Most were able to adjust, but some lost control and crashed. That’s nothing to speak of any drunk drivers at the time.”

“An utterly tragic waste of life.”

“But that doesn’t even account for one third of the deaths.”

“How can that be?”

“Most casualties occurred at the tail end of the Hundred-Hour Day. The entire planet experienced day for one hundred and hour hours, which has significant ramifications in everyday life. If you didn’t live in a country far to the north or south where the days naturally become three hundred hours long, it was difficult to adjust to daily life under such circumstances.”

“I can’t see how that would greatly influence the death toll.”

“You’re right, it didn’t greatly affect the overall sum. But it did affect some people. Some people locked themselves indoors, some went looting, some commited suicide, and some-.”

“Sorry for the interruption. I’d like to take this opportunity to mention that if any of our listeners are feeling isolated, or are having thoughts of self harm, please call 1-800-273-8255. That’s 1-800-273-8255. You’re not alone out there. Thank you Gasper, please continue.”

“Right. As I was about to mention, things were stressful. There were people wearing signs saying “The end times are upon us!” in the street. We know now that the end times were not then, but they didn’t have any indication otherwise. Overall, people went a little stir crazy.”

“It is true that there was mass unrest in a non-traditional sense during the Hundred-Hour Day, and there were places where things escalated. But that wouldn’t contribute much to the astronomical number of over one million dead.”

“Again, you’re correct. Did you miss your calling as a statistics analyst?”

“Oh, I’m just keeping an amiable interview. What made up the numbers?”

“Hour one hundred and five. After the Hundred-Hour day finished, the world was then plunged into roughly thirty hours of darkness. No sun. No stars. Nothing. And all of the environmental calamities that come with that.”

“I can see how that would be deadly. Was there no warning for this change as well?”

“That’s correct. This time there were obviously fewer cars on the roads. People were understandably afraid, but the total number of deceased was ironically higher when the lights went out.”

“Can you say why?”

“I have theories. But you have to understand this was a worldwide event. This impacted everyone, and is still influencing things today. Though much less than some other, more recent events.”

“Could you share one of those theories?”

“Of course. With the day lasting as long as it did, few people still had their lights on. Street lights had been turned off around the world to save power, and only interior lights saw real use. So when the supernatural light turned off drivers were left unable to see for the most part. There were a lot of incidents where cars or trucks crashed into buildings.”

“And what about the cold?”

“Without the sun, or supernatural light to warm the planet, its surface temperature plummeted. Going outside with exposed skin was extremely dangerous, and many simply died from exposure. The only safe places were inside, and only if there was more than a modicum on insulation. Otherwise people were seeing temperatures that dropped far below zero degrees fahrenheit by the end of it.”

“That’s nothing to say of the resources people would have needed to survive.”

“Well, yes, but this one really affected the animals. Most species live far outside the shelter of civilisation. Those with a natural inclination to hibernate or rest for extended periods of time were by and large fine. But the lions of Africa had an extremely difficult time coming back from the population hit of the Hundred-Hour Day.”

“We have time for one more question, Gasper, but don’t feel rushed to answer. Do you have any worries about another event happening on a similar scale to the Hundred-Hour Day?”

“Ha! Forgive me for laughing. Of course I do, but my worries aren’t focused on the events that are only maybe going to occur. I’m focused on the disasters that have already happened, and the ones we know are coming.”

“Could you elaborate on that? It’s fine to speak generally, but I’d like to avoid a non-answer.”

“Sure. But there isn’t much I could say that hasn’t been said already. Salt Lake City was what, three months ago already? It’s been talked to death, forgive the wording, and I’d go into the subject if it hadn’t already received so much coverage.”

“That’s fine then. Thank you for coming on Doctor Gas-”

Charlie paused the podcast and took the time to play music through the speaker instead. Stacks of paper were piled too high on his desk and it wore at Charlie’s soul. He didn’t need more honest discussion on the world’s many problems on top of that.

Most of the stacks didn’t need to be written on, but everything needed to be read through and checked. Then when he was done and the paperwork was filed away, someone would come and place another pile where the old one was. Such was the ceaseless grind. The “boring” part of the job.

Lucidity’s mission reports left much to be desired, which was to be expected from a twelve year old. Collage’s reports were too blase, and would become a liability if they were ever published. Muffle was surprisingly eloquent, which made Charlie feel a pang of sorrow for the muted man every time he read something the big man had authored. Snowflake was all business, and Satellite’s reports were incredibly pointed, if misguided and presumptuous at times. Charlie would need to keep an eye on him.

As for Ashley, she purposefully left parts out that Charlie already knew. Although the attempts at cutting down on the amount she had to write and he had to read was endearing, it always bit them in the back when the mission reports were quality checked. And then there were the two newcomers: Slingshot and Lock, both with a single report to their name. Charlie had taken the opportunity in the wake of the Racketeer’s attack on the tower to drum this part of the job into the two rookies, to varying degrees of success.

Slingshot had been very detailed in her report, but had admitted to doing little more than following Zephyr around most of the time. The two flying women had been the ones to find Lucidity and Lock unconscious once things had died down, and Zephyr had left Slingshot the task of freeing them. Lock’s report, on the other hand, was succinct. Charlie wasn’t sure how else to describe it, but he commented on a lack of self reflection.

Charlie decided to take another break and unlocked his Vphone. There were seven notifications from various apps and social media that Charlie dismissed before sending a text to Ashley.

“You have gaps in your report on the Racketeers. Fill them before the weekend.”

The reply came back in less than a minute. “You’re on the verge of me slapping you. You need to unwind. We’re going for lunch date tomorrow, then we’re getting drunk and watching something old. Tell them it’s a family thing.”

Charlie read the text and waited for an emotional response. Instead he thought about how they were going to get alcohol. The two of them weren’t of drinking age. Ashley would find a way though, she always did. Especially when she was going out of her way for him like she was now. People were supposed to feel happy when someone cared for them.

Charlie missed the feeling.

He sent back a “Looking forward to it.” and returned to sorting through the piles on his desk. This time Charlie directed his attention to a different pile. Rather than a neatly stacked tower of reports, this was an unaligned pile of letters from the public. Fanmail, in a sense, though it was a mixed bag.

As an underage hero, the Regulation pushed the publicity angle harder with Charlie than they would if he was a qualified Sentinel. Figurines of him in costume were sold commercially, and in return he occasionally received pictures of fans posing with his merchandise attached to a message. Charlie took note of the fact that he was a role model but didn’t react to them with pride like a part of him wanted to.

Other letters were just written messages that were addressed to Charlie’s moniker. Most of them were hand written, and spoke of how his brief presence in their lives had inspired or changed them for the better. He endeavored to read them all, but it ate into his available time, and occasionally the letters were negative and critical rather than wholesome. Those ones gave Charlie a sickening feeling in his stomach. Each was ripped in half and binned when he realised what they were.

The music cut out. “Blinker. You have a high priority message.” Rosie’s robotic but smooth voice told him.

“Play it.” Charlie responded curtly.

Zephyr’s commanding voice played through the speaker. “Come to the meeting room, now. This is important.”

The music resumed.

Charlie looked at the almost empty pile of fanmail in front of him and sighed to himself. He didn’t like leaving things half finished, but orders were orders.

“Rosie. Tell Zephyr I’m on my way.” Charlie spoke to the room.

The music ceased again. “Done. Would you like to pause your playlist until you return?” Rosie inquired.

Charlie paused, he was always taken off guard by the helpfulness of the Regulation AI. “Please.” There was a soft ding to signify the received instruction and Charlie left to meet with his superior.

Zephyr was not the only Sentinel waiting for Charlie when he arrived. In the room Orcus was also waiting, still wearing his full set of armour. He was seated at the table, and was using its holographic projection to move some files. Zephyr was likewise costumed, as was Charlie. It was a necessary precaution. The fewer people who knew someone’s identity, the fewer the things that could go wrong.

“Take a seat, Blinker.” Zephyr told him, still standing herself.

“Blinker.” Orcus may have met his gaze. It was difficult to tell with both of them having their eyes covered.

“What’s this about?” Charlie asked as he sat facing Zephyr, three chairs down from Orcus. He noted the lack of formality. Zephyr wasn’t in a good mood.

“The newest rookie. What is your impression of him?” Zephyr commanded.

Charlie took a moment to gather the information in his head. “Lock? He’s doing okay by Sentry standards. Got thrown into the thick of things before most do, but kept his head. Strong point. Physically, he’s weak, but he makes up for that with his power. It’s one of his biggest flaws, but I’m putting him through muscle gaining exercises to make up for that.”

“Anything else?”

“He passed first aid and basic tactics in a week and still has more to go. So... average. Succinct.” Charlie added recalled the report. “What’s this about?”

“We have found evidence that there is more to Michael than meets the eye.” Zephyr said.

“Inconclusive evidence.” Orcus quickly and pointedly followed up, leveling his mask towards Zephyr.

Zephyr hissed air through her teeth. “Whether it's conclusive or not is irrelevant. Michael is a person of interest.”

“If I may, why are you using his civilian name?” Charlie asked.

“Orcus.” Zephyr commanded. The grey man worked the holographic console, and a screen popped up in front of Charlie showing a black haired teenage boy wearing a blue and white jacket over a plain green shirt, and had brown chinos standing in the same room they were in now. He seemed familiar, but Charlie hadn’t seen his face before.

Orcus explained. “This is a civilian is Graceland.”

Another image appeared beside the first. This showed a similar teenage boy wearing jeans held up with a studded leather belt, a grey and blue striped polo shirt, and a long sleeved leather jacket that had been left open. He was leaning against a balcony railing with a city in the background and had a drink in hand. The faces of the two boys were identical, but the hair colour was different. This one’s hair was longer and was a light brown colour.

“And this is a civilian in Vancouver, Canada.” Said Orcus. “Do you agree there is a striking similarity?”

Charlie nodded. “All except the hair. Anything else?”

“Both pictures were captured on the same day, within three hours of each other. Both of the characters pictured are named Michael Barker.”

Charlie’s fingers drummed. “I see. Any other similarities?”

“Indeed. They share a birthday.”

“And that’s it?”

“It is.”

“So what’s this about?” Charlie asked again.

Zephyr hit the table. A blast of wind swept past Charlie’s face. “Michael Barker, the one in Graceland, has left a trail across America that only goes back to 2009. Also, this trail goes cold in Salt Lake City. Several data centres got trashed and archives were lost there. So all we have is evidence that Michael was fostered there before he came here. Evidence, mind you, that could easily have been fabricated and planted in the chaos.”

“What you’re insinuating is that every refugee applicant for the Sentry in the wake of a Calamity is a plant.” Orcus analysed.

“No.” Zephyr venomously shot that down. “I’m saying the ones that are cloned are. You lied to Blinker, Orcus. Both Michaels are from Canada originally. Both from Vancouver.”

“From different addresses.” Orcus countered. “I cross referenced the profiles myself after this case was originally made to me. They come from different regions of the city. The point is moot.”

Charlie commented. “That’s still important information.”

“It’s proof that something is happening.” Zephyr pressed. “I don’t know what exactly, but I know that Michael can’t be trusted.”

“If what you’re saying is true then why do they have different addresses?” Orcus spoke. “Placing the two of them so close together is a painfully obvious mistake in such a scenario. A mistake that no sane person would make. Also running counter to your point, there are no active adepts with the ability to clone a person, even imperfectly as would be the case with our two Michaels. The closest I can think of is Two, who does the opposite of cloning.”

Charlie recalled Two was a techo that specialised in combining two or more things. She was also insane and these things were often living.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not possible.” Zephyr countered. “Techos can stay isolated for years before revealing themselves. Look at Mega. No one has ever even seen them!”

“So a careful adept would clumsily construct a single plant to infiltrate the Sentry in Graceland of all places?” Orcus posed, stressing the location. It was the only word he had stressed so far. Zephyr didn’t have an immediate response.

Orcus continued. “I propose we introduce this information to Lock, the Sentry under your command, Blinker. See how he responds, then take it from there. He may not be aware he has a doppelganger with the same name as him.”

Charlie nodded. “If we do it here, and there is something going on, we’ll be able to contain him if revealing the information causes him to go nuclear. Orcus, you tested the upper limit of his power right?”

“I did, and have confirmed that I would be able to overpower Lock in such an event.” Orcus agreed.

“And if not, then this is curious.” Charlie paused. “And that’s all it’ll be.”

“Or he’s hiding something.” Zephyr snapped. “I think we should investigate further. We should hold off on revealing to ‘Lock’ that we know this information and see if he starts acting strangely. He’s an average hero, you said so yourself. My impression wasn’t stellar either. If he has ties to any villainous organization or entity, known or otherwise, then having him on our team will give us a unique opportunity to monitor him and gather intel. Or respond to a related event, should one occur. If he turns on us, then fine. I was right all along.”

Charlie weighed up the options. “Not to sound like a broken record, but what’s this about? Both of you have figured out reasonable courses of action. Shouldn’t one of the other Sentinels be the one weighing in on this?”

“A valid viewpoint, but consider ours.” Orcus said. “You have been a Sentry for four years, and are nearly eighteen years old. When the semester shifts in three months, you will have graduated into functioning as a Sentinel. You have already performed some Sentinel duties admirably, we value your input on this matter as well as your interactions with the person involved.”

Zephyr just shrugged.

“Alright…” Charlie weighed up what he had just learned. “Here’s my take on it.”

The three discussed a plan of action. Each went their separate ways. Charlie’s playlist started playing where it left off when he stepped back into his office.