A tinge of fear and the sting of so many practice rounds smacking him in the forehead gave Seth a good moment of pause. But this was a wholly different beast to what he faced in simulation. The commander stood out against the open and busted façade of the bank, completely ignoring his own vulnerability. As he pulled up his megaphone, Seth saw that his vulnerabilities were a bit more pronounced than already judged. His right hand was mangled, only a thumb, ring, and pinky left to use. Given that the Tango Delta that he’d studied and fought in the simulations was a deadly sniper and sadistic strategist, it was at least clear he wasn’t going to be sniping trainees today at least.

‘But what the hell is he doing here?’

The answer was coming as he clicked his megaphone.

“Good morning Parasonic. It’s been too long.”

A slightly buried German accent was muddled by the jaw damage he’d sustained.

‘This guy really needs some reconstructive surgery.’

“Your trainees are certainly looking like they will be fine heroes, though we were hoping to attract far bigger names to our little show. But… what can you do? Schedules and more important crises. Oh well, but you and your would-be heroes will do. Now then, if you don’t wish to have these innocent lives obliterated, this rather important vault blown open, and all the guilt and sorrow and yadda yadda, you get the idea. If you don’t want bad things to happen, send out one of your trainees. Any will do, and no you can’t sacrifice yourself. Though we both know you wouldn’t anyway. You have 5 minutes.”

He lowered down the megaphone and stepped back, the damn near scope glint of his only eye said he was staring right at Para despite his cover, or he was directing a bit of his long range ire at Seth.

‘This guy’s eye sight is way too good.’

He pulled back as Para slowly turned his back to the bollard wall and folded his arms in thought. The trainees all looked to him, a few truly worried he was about to throw them into the sights of a jaded mad man. Razor seemed the most perturbed, though that was expected.

“You’re not really gon-”

“Shut up Butterknife! ...No, I’m not about to throw you to the wolves… Not without a plan at least.”

The trainees let out a few sighs of relief, but they still understood this wasn’t over. Para gritted his teeth at whatever he had just thought through, but Seth was sure it was about him. He pulled his finger to his ear piece again, putting him through to Kaz and Ohm.

“You in position to clear those hostages?”

Kaz was the only one to respond.

“We are close. Ohm believes he can scramble the detonator, I can take care of the guards, but we need a diversion.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Sit tight and act when it happens, if you can’t kill the detonator… just get as many people out as you can.”

“…Sir!”

Para lowered his finger, a dark look drawn over his face. Even he didn’t like the idea of sacrificing the few for the many. At least when they don’t get to choose. He despised self-sacrifice in unwinnable situations, but this was unpalatable by every standard. So… Seth was willing to make a counter offer.

Over the silence that drenched the group came the metallic foot falls of Seth headed straight for the opening. Para looked up, a hostile sneer across his face signaled he knew he was spying.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Seth stopped short of clearing the wall and popped his helmet.

“You and I both know no one else is going to be able to stand up to that kind of firepower.”

“And what if that suit of yours isn’t what it’s cracked up to be? What then? What happens to the hostages when they ask for a better sacrifice? I’m not letting you go out there to fight and die like a damned idiot.”

“Who said anything about fighting? You said I wasn’t allowed in combat, well it’s not really combat if only one side fights right. And besides… I’m just out here for a jog, remember.” With that Seth slammed his helmet closed and continued on, an aggravated Para holding himself back from stopping him. But a second to cool allowed him clarity to address his trainees.

“Watch this closely, you’ll need to understand the limitations of powersuits if you ever want to fight one on even ground.”

Seth chuckled sharply as he came into view of the bank’s façade, and the three modified suits that took up firing positions across it. The cannon wielding security suit had retaken a firing stance, but held his fire as he tracked him across the field. The refurbished military suit popped their empty mag off and jammed their arm into one of the many… many boxes of ordinance stacked up at his feet, a fresh full ring mag around his arm and racked automatically. Lastly came the…

‘Well that just confirms it. These fuckers raided United Armors, or were the only fucking customers we had left! Really fucking hope Terrance didn’t start selling to villains after I quit.’

The construction suit that had needed long overdue maintenance stood at the far right side. Modified heavily sure, but it was definitely the one Seth passed over. The caution yellow and black checkered paint job was visible under added armor plates that were bolted to the originally empty frame. Twin fifty caliber machineguns were mounted over its shoulders, independent to its heavy lifter clamp arms.

‘Well at least that one is finally being conservative. That suit was pushed to its limits before, now they’re not even twin firing those guns.’

As Seth stomped out into the field he stepped over the fallen bollard fortification, the deep craters from the cannon striking it showed just how devastating it could be. But that didn’t faze him, he kept walking. He stepped in front of the smashed together car earthworks that had shielded the officers. Piles of metal bent, blasted, and melted into indistinguishable forms by innumerable explosions and kinetic obliteration. He turned, staring down his old life a little too poignantly. Perverted and changed into weapons of… whatever Tango Delta was doing this for.

‘What was this about anyway, revenge? He seems a little too suicidal with that much explosives around him.’

More answers hopefully came as Tango stepped out from behind the military suit, detonator in his only good hand again, megaphone mic grasped in his other.

“Soooo… you’re the one Para thinks the least of.”

‘Okay, too right, move the hell on!’

“I honestly expected some underachieving ruffian who would at least try their hardest and dig deep and surprise us. You know that stupid cliché. But you… Oh I know full well he HATES you.”

Seth was starting to feel called out now.

“I mean what is it, 3 months into your class’ semester? You made it so far in without powers of your own. He must really want you out. And, hey we’ll do it, but it’s hard to say it will really be worth it.”

Seth was really getting ticked off now.

“But oh well, deals are deals after all… I said the League would lose something of theirs in the end.”

‘Huh?’

“You can blow this undeserving trash away now.”

*CRACK* Seth’s head turned hard on its axis, and a slight glow started in the eyes of his helmet.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Tango flinched, hesitated to turn away as the world slowed down a speed. Unable to do anything as the security cannon braced, as his own trained reflexes were out paced with nothing but a word. The mismatched cannon rocked back in recoil, casing getting propelled backwards and ejected by its over strength bolt. The shell spun into the light as depressed fins came free in a shower of fire, massive powder charge and staggered blaring boosters throwing the fat shell hard. Through a cloud of unburned propellant it continued, accelerating to abhorrent speeds. As it traveled the distance of the parking lot, the entrance way, the opening of the intersection. All in the space- *SSSHHHKKKEEEEeeeennngggg* of not fast enough. All that hyped up speed came to a dead halt, metal spalling and ripping itself to a sputtered end. Right in the suit’s catching hand.

The world was shot back up to speed as all that halted force kicked the air. The boosters died out in pitiful fashion, the inert kinetic round wasted of all its potential. Seth tossed it aside into the asphalt, stabbing the torn apart core down like a military grade lawn dart, hallowed base echoing a whistly clang. Tango was fully turned back toward him, Para glared from the bollard doorway, the trainees that were scattered about all winced, and the suited minions recoiled. All watched as Seth stared back at Tango with plasma blue eyes and a stance that practically yelled

“Come on and try me!”

The moment broke as the construction suit slammed its hesitant lifter claws shut, a slight chuckle rising to an unhinged laugh coming from the woman inside. She slammed the clamps down as the laughter hit peak and switched over to rather concerning screaming.

“YOU… YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!!! Why…Why! Aren’t! You! DEAD!!!”

Both machineguns racked, aimed, and fired with complete disregard of any semblance of moderation. A surge of power spread and hardened the suit, but Seth didn’t move as the shower of bullets washed over him. Rounds ricocheting off plates, force thoroughly dissipated to the point where he felt little more than slight plinks.

‘I am really appreciating this gel layer. How’s the armor holding though?’

Speaker and the control room were monitoring every impact in real time, heat mapping the stresses imparted on the suit, waiting to redirect power to repair any damage.

“This suit was designed for far worse than your people’s conventional firearms. That cannon might push us around if you are not careful, but this one may as well not have shown up.”

The shower stopped as the constructor finally saw she was having no effect, gun barrels smoking and glowing from the heat. She was degrading even further, practically growling her frustrations. Tango turned to try and reign her in.

“Sasha, remember your breathing exercises!!”

“RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!”

But she was not there anymore.

Smashing what was left of the bank’s façade to cinder tagalongs, she charged through the parking lot, clamps slapping away car wrecks and smoking remains of decorative shrubbery. With a clear lane, she began picking up speed that really shouldn’t be possible for a construction model. The back mounted motor assembly strained as she berserker rushed toward him, closed lifter raised high and pointed dead at his chest. Seth kept his position, though he was really starting to feel worried about this woman.

She reached him just as her motors reached their audible maximum, rev and whir disintegrating to lurching clanks. All as she launched her drawn out clamp stab. The heavy tungsten clamp slammed into the suit’s chest plate, screaming just as high as her warcry, flashing sparks and friction to life. But still receiving no give as her foot cut the other half of her momentum. She turned up to see her effects of the suit, just a paint transfer across the plate. She roared again and pulled her other clamp up to stab Seth in the side. It clanged off and recoiled. She realigned her footing, readying both her arms to just tear at him wildly. Loosing a combo of reckless abandon. The metals clanged to her incongruous beat, spalled and sparked to fleeting dots of fire, and screeched her fury louder than what thought was left to her. The reality dawning, her clamps were the ones calling for help, the only ones weathered by this torrential assault.

She scraped across one last time before rearing back again, pulling her bare metal and bent clamps back, screeching them open as best they still could. She forced them forward, over and under Seth’s still unmoved arms. Clamping them down as hard as they could clamp, the claw motors screamed their limit as she pressed them for every bit of juice they had, and lifted him up. Holding him by the under arm like he was a toddler needing to be brought to level. The lifter motor begged for mercy, it could handle this kind of weight, but not after everything else it had been put through. The mad woman didn’t care, she roared over the suit’s complaints and realigned the guns on her back. Except this wasn’t point blank, this was danger close. She let loose, guns firing full bore into the suit’s chest.

The battlefield turned to a near constant and bland firework display, gun barrels glowing red hot as the works of friction burned the air to streaking nova. The rounds ricocheted in every direction, but only found their marks back at their shooter. Her suit took hit after hit, joints torn apart, added plates bent and buckled, and slap dash brackets obliterated. The guns fell silent as they chewed themselves apart, falling broken to the suits sides. Next the suit gave out, knees buckled as servos shattered and motors coughed their deaths. Arms falling down powerless, letting Seth slam back down as the constructor dropped to her knees. The added plates fell away as the suit slumped forward, most too bent and chewed through to even be called armor.

The face covering finally fell away revealing the woman underneath. Bloodshot red eyes glared up at Seth’s still unblemished suit, but the real kicker was her hair, all none of it. Shaved away for what looked like medical reasons. A large scarred patch of skin present on her scalp, along with stitches nearly the whole way back. Some kind of surgery that didn’t seem put er back together.

‘Fucking hell, please tell me Tango isn’t lobotomizing his fucking minions.’

She growled at Seth, struggling with her broken down suit, unable to move anything but her head.

‘*sigh* Well at least she’s contained now.’

Realizing she was in the way though, he finally moved. Grabbing and picking her up by her immobile arms, moving her over behind the police car where there was obviously effective cover. A few concerning attempts to bite at him the only worry. Tango and his other suited minions all held off their attacks as Seth cleared the field.

‘Guess they have some amount of comradery.’

Tango’s surprise seemed to wear off, the smug sadist coming back to the surface as he pulled the megaphone back up and Seth returned to his spot.

“Sorry about her, we all cope with our personal damage in our own ways. The rest of us at least deal with our frustrations a little more… constructively. Speaking of which.”

Tango dropped the microphone completely and turned to his two minions.

“KILL HIM!!!”

Wasting no time the military suit shot up its factory new grenade launcher and fired four shots in quick succession. While the relatively lazy shells flew away, the cannon wielder braced to fire again. The shells lit up under a renewing plasma glare, small electric fuses counting down to their destruction. With one hand out, Seth batted the first away, focus spreading coopting the fuse at close range. The next two received the same slap treatment, both falling to either side, tumbling and bouncing to a stop on the asphalt. The last one though, he just caught.

Looking down at it, as the gathered audience waited for them to explode, he confirmed these were in fact factory new. No sand or dust scuffing. They even still had serial numbers.

‘Sheesh… so unprofessional.’

“You guys should really learn about your equipment before using it!!”

Seth flipped the grenade up to them vaguely, a small turn ring on the nose with the settings timer and impact abbreviated on it. He turned it to impact.

“For instance… You left the timers on!!”

He tossed it over to the side with the rest of the shells, letting it hit the asphalt as all the timers suddenly hit zero. Simultaneous detonations, shrapnel spraying over the battlefield, plinking off his suit and scaring the trainees into cover. The military suit hesitated and looked down at his launcher, looking for an external setting no doubt. The cannon wielder seemed ticked off, but held his fire. Tango looked down at the boxes around the military suit, taking up a magazine from an open one and looking it over, before shoving against the military suit in apparent frustration. Seth couldn’t hear, but he knew Tango was cracking.

The military suit appeared to finally find the setting, immediately firing off a grenade into the parking lot - *BOOOM* And received an instant explosion of fire and asphalt in return.

“There you go, now you ca- SHIT!!”

They immediately retrained on Seth and fired every grenade they had left in their mag. Seth hardened up, bringing both his arms up to block as the shells flew in. The first round struck his arm, pressure wave washing over the suit followed by the heat of the explosion. He was rattled and a little warm, but the gel layer absorbed the worst of it. The Garkah compensated for the second one as it tumbled off course and into Seth’s face. Pressure and heat in equal measure, a bit force on his neck but tolerable. The rest scattered as explosion after explosion shook the battlefield. Some missed entirely, striking the asphalt or the metallic earthworks behind him. Most struck home though, and it wasn’t without threat. Speaker raised the alarm first.

“External temperature is rising, if the integrity drops too low we cannot defend against that-” *KHKHKHKHKHOOOOOOooooooo*

Too late.

The clouds of smoke and shrapnel parted as a kinetic round came buzzing in again. And Seth had no time to do anything but defend harder. The round hit square in his guard, but that didn’t matter. The force threw his guard back at him, scrunched his joints near to popping, pressed him back as metal gave what it could. As all that force denied his excess weight. Nearly a ton of metal was blasted of its feet to the sound of a resounding flower of sparks, shot backwards at the shooter’s angle. A charred chunk of police car came with him as he ricocheted off and tumbled seemingly lifelessly into the corner of the intersection. The trainees could only look on as he flew past, rolling and clanging like a discarded toy. Para looked more disappointed than smug as his ‘least desirable’ trainee appeared lifeless on the ground, arm plates still smoking from impact. An impact that should have shattered that armor like glass but...

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!!”

Para’s expression changed to one of unrepentant frustration, only exacerbated as Seth pulled his practically unblemished arms up to pick himself up off the ground. Stumbling to a knee, shaking off the multiple g’s he just got smacked around by.

‘hugh… Fuck… Thank you god for this gel layer!!’

“Thank your god on your own time, we still have hostiles wanting you dead!”

Speaker piped up over Seth sucking air in to refill his empty lungs. The armor held, the round did not. It smooshed against the plates, spalling to super-heated shards off the outer layer, but transferring every Newton it had into the suit before disintegrating into hyper velocity sparks. Seth stood shakily back up, still sucking in air. One final shake brought him back into focus, back up to fighting shape.

He looked up from his breathing to see the less stunned more annoyed Tango scowling at him. He seemed to start to complain aloud, ranting and raving across too much distance. But only realized, as he angrily swapped hands and scooped up the dropped megaphone.

“What the hell does it take to kill you?!? Seriously, this is starting to piss me off!! And you know what happens when I’m pissed off?!”

He raised the detonator up in his partial hand. Most of the trainees froze, a few made half a movement from their vantage points before Para pulled out of his cover in vain hope of stopping him. The suited minions looked on, mixed fear and content on their helmeted fasces as Tango flipped the detonator over with what few fingers he had.

“People Die!!!”

Tango stabbed the detonator, button down, onto the military suit next to him.

“YEHAHA HAHAHA HAHAHAHA!!!”

A megalomaniacal laugh starting up as he felt a victory for once, even if it was pyrrhic. Everyone froze as he laughed harder and harder, reveling in this triumph like there was really no hope to win either way… Laughing for a little too long given the situation. His victorious bravado died down before he finally realized he was still alive. No fury explosion, no ceased existence, still the same shattered apart facade he’d created. He looked over at the detonator, stabbing it again into the military suit before throwing the megaphone down and passing it over to his good hand. He smashed the button several times in distant rage before stopping and spinning around. Seth couldn’t see what he saw, but he could only imagine it was just the empty bomb vests laying on the floor of the bank. He had no hostages, no leverage, and he’d pissed off a super that had been waiting for this moment.

‘My turn!’

A heavy metal foot stamped down and echoed through the battlefield, one defying the non violent promise made but too fucking rearing to care any more! The asphalt blasted apart as Seth rocketed across the intersection, tearing passed trainees, passed Para, passed the still self-containing constructor. Each step chewing road to gravel, propelling him faster and faster. As he crossed into the parking lot the other suits broke from their cathartic blue balling, Tango turning with an exceptionally perturbed expression of pure rage at being denied even this victory. He didn’t even have to order them, they immediately trained every weapon they had at him.

The military suit fired a wide burst of grenades before leveling and racking its harpoon spike. The grenade bracketed him in shrapnel and fire, trying to leave him only one route to take as the harpoon shot down it. Tungsten chain clinking too fast to be discernible as its own charge fired. Seth didn’t even flinch, just ducked low under the harpoon as the booms kicked his unfazed suit. A foot angled hard and kicked off, flipping him over to catch the chain in a dragged over hand. His lower body caught up with the turn, touched down and planted his other foot, as he slid his hands as far up as he could and waited for the one sound he needed. *KAngggg* The end of that chain coming due.

He clamped hard, cracked the pavement at the same moment he pulled that chain. Momentum doubled and the military suit caught off guard, as it was pulled right off their feet. Another ton of metal and motor ripped completely out of the cover of the bank façade, to the dismay of Tango still stood next to it. They crashed into the parking lot, rebounding and skidding as Seth-- *KHKHKHKHOOOOOooooo* flashed down below another buzzing cannon shot. Sent streaking over before its velocity could reach its peak, another wasted shot smashing into the bollard wall surrounding the bank. A quick flash in the eyes of the suit the only retaliation. Because…

‘That’s enough out of you.’

Seth continued low, skimming the ground like a low set lizard following that slackened chain, keeping his arms at his sides and out of the way. The military suit put their hands down hard to push up and level the grenade launcher from on their knees, but was far too slow on the uptick. A short hop and a loaded full metal foot bowled into them, inertia pushing both over to gravity's will. Then the foot split, metal talons digging into the chest plate, keeping it in place as both of them fell with the momentum. Then and only then did Seth fire the stamp. The suit was piledrived down as its legs came free from under them, the asphalt cratered and aerosolized under force. Seth came down on him off the recoil, staring straight into the camouflaged faceplate. Seeing nothing but a fool sucking his squeezed out breath, and instead fill with deep seated fear.

“No… NO NONO NO NO!!!”

He panicked like a cornered animal, desperate to bring his weapon arms up to get whatever he was thinking Seth was away. But they stopped short, clawed gauntlets lurching down and digging into the factory new metal of both arms.

“NO! NO!! YOU’RE ALL DEAD!!!”

Seth pressed down with his foot, pulled himself back up tall, and wrenched his arms up. Callously intent on pulling these perverted refurbishments apart. Bolts snapped, connectors sheared, and servos were crushed as the relatively weak metal gave way to brute force. But more than the suit arms came with. Connectors and deeper artificial joints tore away... as the pilot’s arms came off as well. His prosthetics at least. The pilot's head fell back, passed out from shock as bits of sheered machinery rained beside him. Seth felt a little bad as the second set of arms fell free from the orange armored ones.

‘Well shit. Why do I feel like that wasn’t the first time his arms have been ripped off?’

Shrugging he tossed the hollow arms aside, letting them ring their weight and knowing he was covered from the doubtlessly disturbed glares of the trainees… And tha security cannon. As the kicked up dust and asphalt cleared, Seth retracted his claws and looked over at his offhand handy work. The security suit seemed to struggle to move, each attempt eliciting a pained screech from the servos that he’d repaired long ago.

“Heh… You should really get those servos looked at, I don’t think they were rated for anti-tank duty!!”

Knowing full well he demagnetized them, leaving them back in the poor state they were before. Except now they had wear from both suit movement and the cannon firing to deal with. In a last ditch attempt to get their gun aimed, the security suit inched their arm up to the barrel. Muscle power deciding to aim it manually. The suit screamed as the gunner grunted their effort, forced their grip over the barrel and pushed it toward Seth’s position. But… he was already gone from it, and already walking up to the gunner’s position across the parking lot. In the opposite direction the gunner had just pushed their suit to aim in.

They could only watch as he strode up to them through what was left of the topiary outside the bank, side stepping crushed and obliterated shrubbery. With one final almighty pull back, the gunner scraped back toward him. *ting* Until he put an armored hand up and stopped the barrel dead. The gunner growled as he tried to push against him, succeeding in nothing but glaring passed clear view ports in his face plate.

“The fucking hell are you?”

His gruff, basically gravel laden voice etched away at him as best it could.

“No fucking suit could do the things you did… take the fucking hits you did and live. So... what kind of super wears a fucking powersuit?”

Seth lost what levity he had regained walking over here.

“What? Your power not good enough or something? Welcome to the club. And hey… here’s to the League…”

Suddenly the brackets on the cannon popped, quick release charges blowing it free and leaving Seth holding the bag. While the gunner produced a shock inducer from his offhand and stabbed at him as fast as he could muster.

“FUCKING US ALL OVER!!!”

The inducer prongs made contact and discharged over Seth’s suit. Arcs of loose electricity scattered over the chest plate and dimming everything else out from the bright plasma burn. The inducer’s charge held up for a few seconds before dying out and shutting off, draining every ounce of power their suit had left. The gunner watched the ozone and fried asphalt dust clear from his own handy work. A bit of vindictive pride rising, before reeling back in as best it could. Seth looked down at the melted shock inducer then back up at the gunner, completely unfazed by the ‘attack’.

“Huh… I thought they got rid of my heavy stun gun idea. Though it still looks like they messed up the heat tolerance tests again. I mean what’s even the point of a weapon that can only fire once?”

Seth chuckled in reminiscence as brought his non cannon-holding hand up to the gunner’s face plate and pushed with a finger, causing him to crash back to the thinly carpeted bank floor, completely unable to move and too defeated to even try. He stepped over the windowsill the gunner had been in position in, finally stepping into the bank proper. Mostly shattered and crushed tills and stacked boxes. A lot of stacked boxes. He still held on to the cannon, turning it over in his hands. A triple thick barrel the only way it could handle the obscene powder charge used in those shells. The bolt and receiver were equally proportioned, if not heavier, though the added feeding rail wasn’t helping.

‘It’s not a bad gun, it’s just a little…’

“Primitive?”

Speaker was trying to be facetious again.

‘eh… Okay fine yeah primitive. But when you’re basically using ammo that fires itself you don’t really need much complexity.’

Seth tossed the cannon out the shattered bank façade, crushing an already devastated car, and finally regarded Tango, who seemed to be desperately rummaging through one of the grenade boxes. One of the thirty surrounding him.

‘That can’t be good.’

Seth stomped closer, seeing the rest of the trainees out of the corner of his eye. They were following behind an aggressively walking Para. He saw Ohm and Kaz come in from the back room and join the advance. Everyone converged on Tango as he seemed to feel all the eyes on him now. Wheeling around, he was holding several grenades freed of their ring magazines. Para halted the trainees, Seth stopped as well as he held one aloft in his broken hand. It was set to impact.

“That’s right, one wrong step and I drop this. I doubt any speedsters are among your little class, so none of you have a hope in hell to catch it. And when it drops.”

Seth looked down at the still packed boxes of grenade mags, remembering the boxes of shells stacked up in the position behind him.

“We all go boom.”

Para stepped closer to get his attention.

“It’s over Tango!! Just give up this stupid suicidal revenge plot and stand down!!”

“Or what!! I’ve already lost everything that made me who I am! What kind of sniper can’t hold a gun anymore?! Can’t sight a rifle without constantly reliving all the SHIT you people put me through!? Tell me…! Heh… Tell me what you lost to the laceroids again?”

‘Wait, why would…’

Tango looked over the trainees and Seth as they looked at him with cautious puzzled looks.

“Oh… Oh Para. You didn’t tell them about the Penal Units did you? You poor children.”

“It wasn’t relevant to their training.”

“My pain wasn’t relevant?! The pain of all these ‘reformed villains’ wasn’t relevant?!! These men and women of oh so questionable morals, promised freedom and praise for their service protecting the world, only to be thrown away like TRASH when they ended up surviving with maimed bodies and frayed minds!! You poor ignorant children probably thought those ‘distraction forces’ were heroes. No… no no no… They were villains. Convicts. The undesirables sent to their deaths! Never to be seen again!”

Tango spread his arms out, the grenade slipping in his grip to the dismay of everyone in attendance.

“Well here we are!! Still languishing in the obscurity and anguish the League left us in! Still treated as pariah! Still ignored by the world as nothing but a justified cost to our crimes…!! Well… Not. Any! MORE!!!”

Suddenly Tango reared back, intent on spiking the grenade down and blowing the bank, the trainees, and everyone he could straight to the hell he felt they deserved. His hand shot down as everyone in attendance recoiled, desperate to get away. Maya was half way done with an impromptu asphalt wall. Cleo formed straps all around him, but wasn’t fast enough. Ohm was launching himself in from the back room, but he wasn’t fast enough. Para was charging up an attack, but not even he was fast enough. Seth moved to react, to kill the fuse, to do anything… But quickly stopped in his own rising speed. Not because it was fruitless to try. But because Tango’s hand was empty.

He spiked his hand down before anyone seemed to know. Only realizing it as he stared at his empty broken hand with a compounding and almost justified anger at being stopped yet again. He slowly turned to see his grenade, floating in the air… in a cloud of reddish smoke. Alex! She formed back up, clutching the grenade away from Tango, a slight look of sadness in her noncorporeal and copied cloudy eyes. Tango looked at her with the fury of a thousand suns burning in his eye as Cleo’s straps found their speed and started wrapping around him. Ohm sped past Alex, scooping up the grenade in Tango’s other hand and pushing away the rest of the mags. Para killed his attack, Maya stopped forming her wall. And Seth breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Fucking hell! It’s finally over.’

As Cleo slowly mummified Tango in straps though, he looked back over at Seth. That justifiable intent in his eye burning at him as his face was covered up. Seth met it, almost dutifully as the one who chiefly caused its flare. And to accept the realities presented before him.

‘I guess Aegis was right… the League is not what it used to be.’

The villains defeated, most still locked in their suits or… mummified, the scene was clear for the police to do their sweeps. The hostages were checked and comforted, most set up with rides home since there was nothing even resembling a car left in the parking lot anymore. The bollards were lowered, the ones that were still attached anyway, and heavy clearing and repair teams were called in to repair the damage. The bomb squad took custody of the ordinance and heavy corrections units were given custody of the villains. Though as Seth watched the now suitless villains get led away, or wheeled out on safety chairs, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for them. Their injuries plain for all to see now.

The mad constructor looked like she had scars over one side of her body, in addition to the clear head wound. The military suit pilot, besides losing both arms, seemed to be having a severe panic attack. A… heavily regretted PTSD episode on Seth’s part. The security gunner had a serious scar on his throat and chest, as well as a prosthetic leg. All that was left was Tango. He was locked down in a safety chair, since he qualified as a super villain. Seth was never going to forget the hateful stare he was giving to him. But… he couldn’t help remember something. A town he crossed during the crisis, the one fortified and set up to funnel the laceroids into a sniper’s killbox. The one doubtfully still bloodied and ornamented with a crushed and torn rifle. He couldn’t help imagine it was Tango’s, couldn’t help tack on a little more guilt to his ever expanding total. But…

‘I wonder if Garkah healing works on other people.’

“There is no reason for it not to.”

Speaker piped up, already having run the theory through his medical experts.

“It is all just a matter of power and control, you would need to-” *clang*

Seth snapped out of his internal conversation as a piece of rubble bounced off his suit. Maya threw it, and judging from the fact that the other trainees were funneling into the UTAH it was time to leave.

“Come on Tinman!! No more daydreaming!!”

Seth took one last look around at the once walled battlefield, before turning back to catch up with the UTAH before it rumbled away. Para was the last to get on, hanging off the step and dead eyeing him as it started up. But despite the obviously laden glare, he didn’t yelled at him about fighting. So Seth took the glare and hurried along. It’s been a long enough morning anyway.

As he retraversed the city back to the Hill, Seth took a moment to check with the Garkah.

‘Almost forgot to ask. Did you get what we needed?’

Speaker and another Garkah he only knew in passing came to his attention.

“Yes, we were able to draw enough power from the city and those suits to complete the threading. Weaver here did excellent work… as always.”

‘Let her sing her own praises Speaker. You’re stifling.’

Speaker seemed irked by that, but relented. Weaver had always kept herself rather closed off from everyone, despite being in a literal collective. But she was working on being more confident, managing to even feel a bit of pride.

“It was fun… to finally weave again.”

‘It was an honor to be of service madam.’

Okay now Seth was being facetious.

‘Just don’t forget to teach me to weave sometime okay?’

“I… I won’t forget.”

Seth let the attention go as he drew near the Hill, keeping low on the coping rails so he didn’t have to explain why the concrete in the front plaza was busted. He landed in the run up to the stairs, slowing his momentum as the UTAH rumbled passed on the access street. His own air of pride finding its way out. He’d finally done some good, used this power for good. And…

‘Just a week to go. Just one week till even Para can’t deny me any longer. I’m ready for this. I know I am.’