The still slightly dingy room was silent, even Alex’s pencil was quieted in its note taking. The face staring back between her and Aegis was half solemn and half still trying to lighten the super heavy mood he’d just willingly created. The disparate admissions played back like parts to a math problem, contorting Aegis’ face every which way. Her trademarked concern, that fiery anger that lay underneath, a persistent disappointment, and a final cumulative exacerbation at everything. She took a breath, trying to ease the worst of the tension away before it caved and she decked him over the head without assenting to his situation. But her fist still tightened amid her conflicting judgment. And released as that breath did.

“Why does everything with you have to be so fucking hard?”

That given up fist shielded her face to try and weather the pressure she felt from all sides.

“Uhggrrrrr… It was bad enough as it was, now we have proto sentients and alien refugees. Do you really have no idea where they went?”

“N-no… they left me a few notes but nothing of where they went and they didn’t exactly leave me a trail to follow. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they did turn themselves in. But whoever they chose to drop that news to would certainly cause an incident.”

“Well my mother’s… faction didn’t know about them till now so they didn’t go to HQ.”

Seth’s face twisted in confusion.

“…Oh yeah, sorry. My mom’s been spying on you this entire time.”

His confusion went flat and scrunched in revulsion before those blue streaks popped into the busted open doorway.

“Well it was either privacy violations or life in prison. And trust me there will still be parts of the League that will deny you even that much.”

Stratosphere strode into the room completely bereft of her usual slowed kindly pace, standing beside Aegis like the proud hero she more than likely still was.

“But just because you’ve admitted to all of this doesn’t mean you get off scot free.”

Aegis stood up and pushed her borrowed chair away.

“Knowingly harboring the source of the Laceroid Crisis, being responsible for the propagation of the Signal Massacre, crippling Para, blacking out Kadia… Should I list off more?”

Seth’s mouth hanged open trying to retort but his guilt was all thrown back in his face and denied him the option. But-

“But you can’t be condemned for just trying to survive and do the right thing. Let alone for things you had little control over nor option to counter. But when you did have a choice… you chose to fight against what was controlling you. And even when you ran you chose to try and help people. Even if it was a detriment. Those survivors from Eagleville, Razor’s friends, hell you even beat the shit out of the entire upper echelon of our region’s supers without leaving any of them in the hospital. You don’t deserve the blame you’ve put on yourself. But… you still can’t be left to your own devises. Not anymore.”

“Oh don’t worry he won’t be out of my sights for a long time.”

Stratosphere turned her nose up in facetious disregard.

“I’ll be watching you like a hawk from now on, making sure you don’t do anything else to draw attention and draw in the idiots who more than likely won’t listen when Aegis explains why you don’t deserve the death penalty.”

“Oh I’ll make sure they… W-Wait what?!”

Aegis was wheeled around on her mother before her serious tone could fall away.

“Are you insane? We can’t tell them all of this, they’d tear half the city up trying to find him! They don’t even listen to me on a good day! Do you even know how many bad days they’ve had in a row by now?”

“All the more reason to tell them and then put your foot down for once. They need to know who they’ve been ignoring all this time. I mean you aren’t expecting my little Mimic here to do it are you? They’d eat her alive.”

“No, I’m just… Hold on…”

Aegis slowly turned passed her mother and glared her harsh inquisition on Alex trying her best to not be chalant and succeeding too well to not be suspicious.

“Are you fucking serious? You were a mole this entire time!”

Alex shank back and tried to avoid looking directing into the withering eyes of god bearing down on her.

“N- No. Only… during the midterms.”

Aegis contorted and fell back to trying not to deck her former students before Stratosphere stepped between them.

“She was just my eyes and ears on the inside, nothing more. Besides, you know how partitioned and nonsense the system is. Add in Para’s meddling and you’d have found someone to help you out too. Hell, she’ was the only reason I saw those midterms in the first place.”

Aegis turned her glare down, but was practically growling at her mother and this entire situation falling in to place around her. That ever shielding hand nearly dug its way into her skull again before wiping all her anger away and leaving behind her oppressive exacerbation.

“I… hate… all of you!”

But not so subtly “Ugggghhh”-ed back to resolved acceptance.

“Fine! I’ll fucking tell them. But you have to cover me on this!”

That accusatory finger swung hard around and shifted its prosecution on Seth.

“And he has to stay put!!”

He reeled back, full brunt of Aegis’ fury falling on him with nothing but a finger. A fury that turned toward him to put it into so many words.

“That means no powers and no more day trips into the city! You’re on super supervised parole you understand!?”

Seth didn’t temp fate and immediately nodded as fast as he could.

“No… I don’t think you do!”

Aegis pulled in closer, sliding the coffee table out of the away like the only barrier left between them.

“You need to swear it to me this time! No powers, no heroics, no more dealing with your problems on your own. No more overdoing things and making them harder for everyone. Let us deal with this. Let us turn the heat down. It’s already boiling and we’re about to throw more wood on the fire. You need to swear to me on this.”

Seth was stuck with Aegis too close again, eyes locked and emotions undeniable. An already scorned promise adding deserved glare, and dropping a long overdue weight on to him. A weight he had to accept… and had to fight his hardest for this time.

“I… I promise. I promises I won’t lose myself. I won’t make things worse. And I won’t overdo things this time. …I won’t.”

The moment lasted an inordinate awkward time, but assurances had to be made. And truth had to be paramount. Aegis pulled back with that assurance easing her aching psyche, but still bearing the weight she had to carry on back to the Hill.

“Hrrrrm… Then it’s all on me now. There’s just one thing left though. Something to at least throw at those idiots to keep them placated. Are you sure Resent is dead?”

That question forced Seth back up, forced him to re-rectify with his own abilities, and his own memories.

“I… I don’t know. I drained him pretty hard but he’s pure energy. There could be something of him left. But whatever he is now it’s little more than a spark in a dead suit. As long as it’s shattered, and you’ve got it locked in a safe somewhere, he won’t be coming back anytime soon. At least… so long as Techno doesn’t go probing it with anything electronic.”

His demeanor shifted regardless of his assertion, an assurance needed for him as well. He knew what he’d done. He knew he did what had to be done. He was sure. He had to be. That thing had to be defeated. It had to.

A dark space illuminated by pin pricks of steady indication. Shadowed forms of blocky proportions and angled sturdiness surrounded a flowing still void. A cloaked mass swallowed by cloth and supported by table. A shadow that grew darker the longer it was observed, drew closer the longer it sat idle. That steady indication rendered intermittent as its presence was left to the darkness it bathed in. A bath that washed away with the crash of energization, of breakers locking into place, of work needing to be done. The room flashed to luminosity, work lights in every corner caging that shadow and leaving naked save for its cloak. Little left to the imagination as it draped and contoured around every jagged edge and drooped into every gap. But its form was impossible to mistake, humanoid and upright, laid to rest on a slab of grounded metal, and surrounded in all manner of tool to further its return to a solid stature. A repair shop hidden away from the world, and now reoccupied at last.

The door at the shadows feet bashed open, a shoulder shoving it unstuck from its tight seal. A form masked in its own darkness hobbled its aggression and slammed the door back into screeching place. A mask hanged over their face, metal bent and given glass fixture set to dim away the worst of its purpose away. A wielding mask with more than enough significance. Their suit was zipped tight and fit just barely, not quite made for increased stature. But made specifically to fit inside armor. Concentric ring locks, magnetic and waiting, cut the skin tight contours. A connector suit bearing the last of this forms intentions. They… he would rebuild, and take up this shattered shadow. A shadow bared to the light as he wrenched its cloak away without mercy or care.

Those jagged edges of uneven strata, metal and ceramic scorched and cracked in jutting disquiet. The figure only just recreated in exploded fashion, in more than one aspect. The outer plates still clung to dust and melted asphalt, the inner to the very light shown upon it. A mess of darkened conductive metal, still clinging to its original terrifying form, and still snarling in the death it was due. A death that will be refuted with blanched will and *crcrcrscree* rigorous duct tape. A hand limp and useless was tied tight against an electrifying wand, wire running back to a crank and hazard orange box. A crank that was grasped with broken strength and turned with an even exponential meter. Wheels and cogs amplifying the turn, magnetic rolls countering each other in a powering dance as indication illuminated again amid its overtaken star field. And the work commenced in a bright arc of plasmic fire.

The blue bright glare whited out the point of contact, washed the masked man in luminous backwash, and tortured that shadow for the demanded result. Pieces were clamped and forced together, edges melted through and highlighted in easing red retention. Ribbonus flows took their place, marring the once solid surfaces with necessary scars. All in the name of its return. The illumination ceased, but its crackling screeches were replaced by beating of shape. Disjointed and warped shards were hammered back to alignment, gripped in vice and slammed into submission. A cycle set in motion, the burn of electric fired fusing and the beating of obstinate edges. A cycle of screeching and drumming, of blindness and concentration, of wand and hammer working in unison to achieve that first goal. Completion.

The shadow… the suit that once tore through the best heroes this city had. That blared and contained power beyond understanding. That hid the revival of nightmares thought low. Now it bore the scars of its shattering, of its discharge from service, of its uselessness. But now… Now it would serve new purpose. Now it would serve a new master. Now it was his. The funerary table clicked under unlocking stage, rails and arms shifted it head first toward awaiting berth. That staunch hand tore its lame partner free of the burden tied to it, tools no longer necessary. It clamped to the freed dolly and bullied it along, straining for lack of harmony and balanced stance. But refuting the weakness in such deformity.

More locks stopped its travel, the berths tethers tousled and clinked in recoil and that hand wrenched them down to hoist and raise. Magnets jumped and echoed the resealed and empty cocoon, weight set to pull it upright off of its deathbed. More chains rattled off as pulleys clanked up to preset heights. A final pair stuck to the waist and forced it close, a demanding embrace to start the final step of its revival. That limp hand flopped on to a side long shelf, one bearing panels and switches wired three deep into that embracing berth. The hand contorted and twitched under the duress of will, forming tight enough to hook and bring to life. It flopped up and turned harsh, caught aligned bar and let weight and determined force start up this scaled up defibrillator. To continue the show of light and beat.

The crash of breaker and whir of freed tension and started engine. That other hand finding its place on the throttle as this hidden hall of mechanical necromancy flickered and dimmed. As the shadow was given back its power. *craBRRRRRRRRR* The throttle poured to full and the room disappearing into whitewashing outlines of its set forth contents. Arcs tore the light away and burned across that scarified surface, raking out from their magnetic hoses. A burst of power to turn the darkness to light and the light to darkness… and break the first of many seals on this reviving menace. The gauntlets hanging limp with discolored edges crisscrossing its plates, their wrists split open up the forearm and reveled that pure blackness inside. And set the final end goal for none to see but the one who wished it.

The throttle relented, the wires smoked from their sudden overclocking, too much power to force through at once, but their longevity wasn’t really of concern. The marginal cooldown allotted elapsed and the throttle was revved back to up, that limp hand forced off its place and flung up at several gate switches. And so another cycle was perpetuated. The illumination of none but the burned, the set subroutines clanking open their marked off panels, and opening of more and more gates to the overflow of energy being poured into this lotusing shadow. As it grew back to its subsuming girth.

Arms and shoulder, calves and thighs, the waits, the chest, and the hinging neck ring. With every burst more of it opened and more of its emptiness spilled out. Soon the wash of electric fire ceased to clean, only be swallowed up by that blaring void. A void at last inviting its mortician inside. The last burst scolded its carriers, the throttle left at full without a damn given. Because the helmet at last open up for his entrance. That masking metal façade was tossed aside, the shadow and plasma denying the face underneath its features. But he cared little, as he threw himself into its overcharged embrace. His head slammed the back of the helmet, and sprung its trap at long last. It closed and swallowed, turning intermittent to total, but giving just as much as it took. That overcharging current poured again like a set rhythm moved between, and found more than metal to fill full of power. Convulsion and burn, scorched hair and rattled teeth, untold volts and amps sparing nothing… nor ending nothing.

That rhythm was set, and taken advantage of as hands both limp and iron gripped jammed into open waiting gauntlets, arms aligning and setting into magnetic place before the next burst arrived. More unmitigated electrocution, more panels slamming closed around their new host body. The strained rubber and cloth between burning and melting as the arcs tore down their now filled vacuum tube. Another down time, and another taken place. The legs hoisted up, another limp appendage forced into place without a will its own. More connectors locking them in place before another burst closed them shut. Nerves fried beneath tearing skin, transplanted energy too much to contain. But there was just one last panel to shut forever. The chest locked hard, pushed convulsing squirms down and forcing the last rings into place as the last burst faded with the melted oozing wires.

The tethers to its berth could no longer hold it aloft as the suit and contents slammed to the ground. Stubborn resistance and mechanical rigidity keeping the pair from heaping together, but the disharmony was undeniable. That limp hand was forced up to be seen. The eye slit, burned out wide, showing that armored hand still straining to articulate. The disseminated burn across his body filled the space he took, the movements were his and his alone. The pain was his and hollow. Still he was denied the outcome he had demanded of it. A fact that crunched that armor in wrathful strain. From the palm of his good hand to the soles of both his now armored feet pressing into the concrete… in unison. An impossibility… but one he bore down on through his only seeing eye. As those fried nerves failed to feel the burn traveling up his legs. The blood red deep oozing burn.

The sensation was just as empty, hollow, numbed away. No heat or scorch to add to the overcharged contusions. Just raising crimson outlining his newly claimed armor. The edges seemed to bleed into barely contained glow, those slapdash welds highlighted in cold correcting melt, an empty feeling carried upward as all of it rose through him. Up thigh and waist and chest, branching off and filling arm and digit. He watched his limp hand illuminate in burning blood up to those defiant fingertips, watched his hand flex like those obliterated nerves were restored to him. But a fear still denied his over wanted elation. As that burn filled up to his neck. He could see the glow start to light up the internal void of the helmet, bubble up through the gap that was once unchaffing seal. He could feel the odd tinge at the back of his skull, the crawling emptiness swallowing his jaw. And the final snap of the world he once knew blinking away… to an agony of change.

That emptiness filled in a torrential instant, nerves jammed to their breaking with synaptic overload as the man gnarled and screamed. All-consuming pain throwing him forward to the unprepared concrete below. Armored knees shattered it, gripped helmet tried to bury into it, and claws skewered and slashed for grounding purchase. His yells of pain hollowed and buzzed. Talons tore through the floor in spasming contortions. A tail flailed about and cut into the once sheltering berth, like unknown flesh given life it couldn’t understand. The man crumpled and tried to hold in his chest as new convulsions threw it around as his suffering turned metallic and disjointed. Finally that thrice scarred and twice scattered visage split open in an oration of pure anguish. The burn only growing with every high frequency pang. But slowly easing to steady meter as it aligned with desperate breaths.

In and out, seethe and cope, accept and realign. Mental fortitude holding against the onslaught of change and metamorphosis. Mind holding firm to what it wants and what it knows. An almost prepared for result of this blasphemous ritual. A preparedness for something physical and something undeniable. For something thought impossible yet refuted before his very own eye. He rose off the ground still weighed to his knees, still rasping voltage laden breaths. Affirming flexes of hidden muscle and composition, a taming of that overstimulated tail, a grinding of teeth rendered unprotected and bared. An almost holistic acceptance of what has happened, a new dichotomy of existence and being. A new host to carry it aloft, a new power to cut away the fat. A commonality of abhorring weakness… a hole to crawl through and depose if need be. That highlighted maw rose up from its torturous rebirth, back glow brought even with steadied tension. And crescendoed as that hollowed left eye opened again to its full blown menace. And would never close… ever… again.