Seth’s old apartment was just like he left it, dingy, yellowed, and… basically abandoned at this point.

‘I don’t think anyone even owns this property anymore.’

The mail slots still only had two rooms covered, and his lock wasn’t changed. He’d lost the key, but at this point it may as well be paper mache. Though it was definitely better to stay subtle, didn’t want to scare Ms. Mahan with this ugly new mug. The water still worked, his appliances were still where he left them, even the TV still had signal. The bathroom was still as slightly run down as it always was, though he wasn’t focusing on that very much.

The mirror showed him just what he had become to everyone else, the monster that was revealed to have gotten away. More times over than he was even to blame for. His eyes were still hazel, not a chance in hell those were going to change if he had anything to say about it! Though the slit pupil was a little unnerving at first. Too many similar eyes still staring at him, but at least they couldn’t demand anything more from him. The scales that were almost draped over his new snout felt smooth but heavy as he plied his face with a claw. The fresh shine had already dulled away, but there was enough surface to look okay, if only a little muted grey. But he felt he could do a little to change that, enough threads latticed them to do a lot of redecorating. Though, he couldn’t really settle on it. A weird sentimentality. He opened his maw, teeth rowed evenly and gleaming like pearl knives. A wince tried to pull Seth away from the mirror, but failed in self-disappointment. He waggled his tongue a little, just to get a good look at it. Plenty longer sure, but nothing special.

He closed and looked up to the horns crowning his head, a claw flicking the one it had snapped off sending a shiver through his body. More of a peeve than a reflex, like an over trimmed nail demanding what he can’t give it back. Well, he could probably do that now since the horn got fixed, still just an annoying feeling though. Lastly of course… the hair. Still stark white, still an absolute mess to get even. But at least it all flowed in a set directions rather than just wherever the magnetic fields pulled it. Forward spikes flowed in line with the horns, while the rest spiked back in nice layers toward the back. The sides were mostly in line, excess only just reaching the reptilian-esque ear holes that didn’t need much to hide.

But, despite his newly accepted visage, that hair still drew him back and reminded him of everything all over again. A scar that will never heal or go away, no matter what he does. Memories of what he had to survive, what he had to live through. A reminder of the life he’d left behind, of who he’d left behind. A harmony with that weird sentimentality. Like this really was what he should have just been all along. Aches of guilt for what he’d done, and what had been done to him closed his eyes. Finally dropped the reality of it all on to him. All of it mixing together like a slurry washing over him, chunks battering their bound feelings over and over again.

He pulled a breath in to fight it, lungs drawing far more than they used to. Those feelings, those emotions, guilt old and new, nightmares suppressed and made real, all of it brought in as hard as he could bear them. As hard as he could compress them. His threads flared, hummed with discordant music as it all suffused through him. His hum, his key thread was smothered, lost in the discord of his past. Until that breath stopped… and all was still. The world stood still, the discord slowed to a stop. But that hum persisted. Slowly, rising, pulsing through the disharmony, taking those cacophonous waves in as more to add. The hum rose… and the past was made its foundation again, as that breath released. Like a tidal wave, the tension released across his entire body, the flare of his threads arcing through and down his scales. A weight over him lightened, heat rising away and closing the air around him. His hands closed tighter, the soles of his feet touched the cold tile, his balance shifting ever so slightly. His eyes blinked open, the bright light of the bathroom wincing them like they’d been closed for too long. But they opened regardless, and looked themselves in the mirror. A familiar face looking back, with the ease of reconciliation making that stark white hair not so glaring in its reminders. That gentle smile finally finding him as well. Even as the shadows behind stared back ever still.

The sounds of Eagleville were a lot different to Kadia. No overarching din, no common bustle. Though the grumble of the crowds kept at distance was definitely the major differential. The street was blocked off, but no crews were called in this time. No need to repair damage that was already fixed. But that didn’t mean the road was empty. Teams of white suited researchers flowed amidst heroes, both still recovering and assigned their duties. Scanners combed the asphalt, boxy apparatuses lasering with set purpose and set targets. Their zinging hum adding to the disquiet. Interviewers got as many details as they could out of the front lines, jotting them down incessantly. Techno’s teams left nothing to chance and left no stone unturned. Even if it had just been dashed against a wall. Aegis’s beaten look warded off the worst of the faceless hazmat suits. She was going to give Techno a piece of her mind when she was good and ready. But right now… she needed the momentary peace the center of this storm allowed. The rest of the Elite had slinked away, there was a lot of image to repair and too many strategies to reformulate. Not to mention what this news would do when the villains hear of it. Things were bad enough as they were.

That little boy in Aegis’ mind just kept smiling at her, even as it twisted into that…

“Hrgghrr”

She rubbed her head, conflicting feelings still beating against each other and making this peace less and less worth it. Her first save, the kid she pulled out of hell itself was a laceroid. How and why was already enough of an issue. But to top it off, she told that kid her power’s only real weakness. All… all in exchange for the truth. A truth she’d forgotten, or at least failed to hold on to. She still couldn’t believe that she’d forgotten his face. Another sigh bunched it all up so a deep breath could carry it all away, leaving behind a nice sediment of knowing she fucked this up, big time. But guilt for this wasn’t weighing her down, at least not anymore. This entire situation just kept compounding in on itself over and over. Her part in this was one of many, and sort of signaled a good ending for it. Because that weakness was more than indicative of what kind of person Seth was. A person who would never want to hurt her, and a person who was never evil to begin with. The paradoxes surrounding him found at least some clarity, if only in her mind. But this was still far from over. She had to learn what the hell all this was. Why it happened, why it kept happening now. And the only person who knew that was waiting for her to find him again.

Alex floated down behind her as a firm resolve seemed to take hold, copied powers and a friendlier face at least brought back a smile.

“So… how’s Razor holding up?”

Alex just shrugged.

“He’s a lot more emotional than I thought he was. And really seemed to care about those hoodlums he calls family.”

“Heh, at least something stayed strong out of this mess.”

“…Are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. I’m alright… You ready for this, because we still have a job to do.”

“More than ready… just… how are we going to find him this time? He’s still…”

“Don’t worry, he left us a hint. And this time…”

That simmering aura returned with her resolve.

“This time I’m going to wring the truth out of him even if it kills him.”

Alex reeled back, a scary look crossing Aegis’ face a little too reminiscent to her training fights. She was at least very motivated now. And more than ready to rectify her self-placed mistakes. One last look at the cracked asphalt for good measure and she was turning around and away from this unneeded reminder. The hunt was on again, and this time they were at least headed in the right direction.

The scene was cleared, scanned, cataloged, and packed up. The day waning away into night. A night few of the assigned heroes and researchers wanted to linger in. Eagleville didn’t want them around, and the sentiment didn’t need reinforcing. The last of the UTAHs rumbled in to pick up their teams, a few heroes left to keep a bluff over an actual guard. Heavy lift trucks hauled away equipment and popup tents, signs and cardboard bollards, and what debris was left over from the weapons destroyed. But one among them held the main prize… one cloaked in a dark tarp to ward off the curious and enforce this stale bluff. One that unfortunately received not quite enough supervision. A lone figure, quiet as the night that tensed the skeleton guard detail, slipped through the parked trucks and UTAHs, their target more than clear. The dark street allowed their cloaked form to move with ease, though a slight hobble kept them slow. Guard after guard unaware and none the wiser.

Late to leave research teams funneled to their rides out, the bustle of this pullout more than enough cover… for just one truck to disappear. None batted an eye as the truck started up, cargo secured tight to the bed. Just another in the line leaving this place behind for good. Just ignore the fact that it slowed at the back of the pack. And stopped short of the city limits. Lights cut as the hill covered, allowing it to peel off and parked blind in the forest hill marking that limit. The figure stumbled out, white knuckle grip stopping them from falling face first. A small box yanked out behind them and smashed into the ground, indicator lights and a guiding signal dying away to nothing in the dark. The figure glowered down at it, not quite the common criminal but a necessary crime.

They hobbled up to the bed, flat and open, strapped over with a concealing tarp. A resentful wrenching loosed one strap away, enough to be sure they had found their mark. Roughly tossing the tarp aside... they were more than sure. A dim, barely perceptible glow outlined jagged chunks, plates and shattered joints placed in a spread out heap. A vague shape aligned as best as could be constructed from the remains, but little was needed to understand what it was. That jagged outline falling up and down along its underside. The edges burned to black by the devastating release. And the red glow still radiating from those menacing eye slits like an expecting hallucination, denying none of what it was, or what it could do. And what would never be allowed… ever… again…

“What do you mean you lost the truck?!”

A lab set deep in the Hill, nestled far from prying eyes but more secured for privacy than security. The lights were dim to keep some experiments viable, while also keeping the owner's eyes rested. But also because the power systems were a little on the fritz, so things were just deciding to not work anymore. The owner, the one called Technomancer, sat with his head in his hand and a radio to his ear. The exacerbation clear despite the dim atmosphere. The only true illumination the screen paling his face and telling him more bad news than he needed right now.

“Look just… find it okay! That suit’s been denied to me too long already, it’s too valuable to just lose! Get the GPS up and go!”

An aggressive yet stymied disengaging of the radio and the atmosphere lost its tension as he dropped his head into both his hands.

The hill was in a state of chaos as it was. One EMP too many had damaged the power systems, the medical wing was still full to capacity and nearing open revolt, and to top it all off a load of heroes were returning after losing to a supped up Laceroid. Not even mentioning the upheaval with Aegis and the in general hosting of Kineticlysm.

“They seem to prefer him at arm’s length. Are you sure now is the best time?”

“No time like the present. Besides… I’m thinking he could really use us right now.”

The sole hero in the room wanted nothing more than to be left alone, to be bereft of his overburdening responsibilities, to at least have answers for what was even going on. But all he could do was sit in the dark, surrounded by too many problems and disturbed by the incessant clicking of… of his monitor. A program had opened itself up, just a simple notepad, but its blank space was filling on its own… With a question.

Would you like some help?

The stunned, no, annoyed look of Techno’s face said all it needed to. And what he didn’t need was someone hacking into his built from scratch network. His hands left his steadily angering face and flurried over the keyboard in front of him. The program disappeared and a diagnostic suite barreled through every file and active account on the network, seeking the hole that was going to be plugged and the address that was about to get raided to the ground. But, as fast as the purpose built seeker could comb through the network, it read off all clear. The only offending source of the program was… his terminal. A few beats of pure stress and tabulation only exacerbated the contortion of his face. A time long enough for the program to reopen and slowly type to him again.

Sorry. We did not mean to make your stress worse.

The typing cursor blinked at him, as that regretted stress twisted around, anger mixing with confusion. But the program just waited for him to respond, more than enough empty space to fill. So that face shifted to resolve, despite the attitudes beneath.

Who are you?

He hit enter like it was a warning shot across a bow, a standoff response that needed to be enforced. But the program typed back in lazy fashion, measured clicks of letters sent.

Just some people who are looking to help.

how many what do you want why should i even trust you

Techno belted off his response, too quick for syntax and too interrogative for control, eyes locked to the screen trying to glean even the slightest tell from the preprogrammed responses to input.

Too many to burden you with, but more than enough to work off the price of asylum. And what we want is just that, to pay that price.

Techno’s confusion only worsened, and that stress crept back up before- *bzzbrbzzzzzz* the dimmed lights of his lab returned to their normal mild brightness. He recoiled from his terminal, scanned the room for an intruder that was not there, a tap that was not present. A sweep back to his screen and a flurry of commands brought up the diagnostics again. Systems scanned through the network again, but this time found something unexpected. The degraded power systems were repaired, fully functional. Repairs that took days were done in seconds. Techno’s eyes were frantic, reading the readouts over and over again, trying to parse the cause… but his systems were insufficient. Looking in places that his intruders were not.

Who are you?

The program was looked at like an alien thing, an other to be leered at for being different. But those others on the other end accepted this skepticism long overdue, even if it was said absentmindedly to himself. Without warning the speakers that cued the typing clicks buzzed to life. Several words echoing through as language was refreshed in verbal tones again. Cycling through taken in syllables and melted together meaning, coming to the final understanding that this process created.

“w-w-We… are debtors… looking to repay what we have taken from you without malice, and without cause. We are fates playthings, dashed to and fro as it sees fit, but we are not excused by its works. …We are regretful… and wish to find peace. And an eternal servitude for the crimes we have committed is the only peace we deserve.”

Techno slowly retreated from his terminal, shock and confusion trying to make just any sense of this proclamation. But all it received in return was one final decree.

“You may call us… the Garkah.”

The End