A couple of minutes later, Vivian still wasn’t done, and Alexandria had to drag me off the corpse and across the street by my one good hand. I pushed my power to try to hurry along the repairs on my ankle. I needed to get mobile and check in on basically… everything. Everyone. Foot first, then the wings.

  The biggest issue was that I’d been stomping around on one fracture, which spiralled out into multiple others. I also didn’t have the energy to work with, really.

  I was mentally frowning. This was a logistics issue. I had limited resources to work with, and numerous things were all fighting for them at the same time. Not enough supply to meet demand. I tried a different approach.

  Let’s drop my shapeshift from big girl Apex back to normal Apex, and use some of that mass to perform repairs with. Ditch anything too hard to repair over the next couple of hours. I can regrow it on a deep sleep cycle later.

  I pushed the idea through, and my power responded.

  “I might be out of it for a couple of minutes. I’m trying something I’ve never done before. You might uh… want to stand back a few feet. Sometimes things…splash.” I told Alexandria. She heeded my warning, stepping a few feet away, and she continued to scan the skies for this aircraft that was coming.

  I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could, then rested, gathered my breath, and activated the change.

  One of the long slits on my back unzipped and parted open. The one on the right side. My left side was too heavily damaged. I started going numb from head to toe, and felt intense lethargy hit me like running into a brick wall. I wanted to yawn, but couldn’t. I couldn’t move at all.

  Don’t panic… Slow, deep breaths. This is just temporary.

  I lost all exterior sensations from head to toe, only feeling intense metabolic activity inside. Organs pumping and churning, wet, sloshing gurgles sounding. My vision and hearing went last, everything going dark and numb. But I was warm and much more comfortable now that I was numb than I had been before, with my entire body screaming and burning. I was trying not to fall asleep in the darkness. I was aware that something shook me, a brief, singular impact.

  The warmth built and built from within until it was a roasting heat, like I was inside a sauna with the heat cranked way up. A little uncomfortable, but a little relaxing, too. Each breath of cool air felt good, and each exhale carried out body heat. Tingling jolts of electricity ran up and down my spine and started to pulse out further and further with each cycle. I started to feel my arms, legs, tail, and head. Sensations and senses were returning. Everything was still dark, but I could hear voices outside. It sounded like I was underwater in a pool, and it was people talking from the poolside.

  Another few jolts and I felt like I could move, but I was weak. I tried to shift some, but was stuck. I’d give it a little time. Some strength started to return to my extremities, and I heard popping and crackling sounds. Some freedom around my back. I was going to try and move, because keeping the claustrophobia at bay was only a temporary solution. I tried to press up on my hands and knees. Resistance, more crunching, but progress. I pressed up harder, and suddenly–freedom.

  I had essentially molted like a giant-ass bug and was extracting myself from my old carapace. There was wet, goopy suction as I worked to pull my limbs free of the rapidly deteriorating carcass. With a wet, revolting schlorp, I pulled my arms and legs out and stood up. My back re-sealed, and I took a breath. No tightness in my chest. I was covered in clear goop, which was separating under its own weight and dropping to the water below with splashes. I scooped up two hands of filthy seawater and splashed them over my angular head, which washed most of it off my ‘face’ and cleared up my vision.

  A vehicle that looked like some kind of oversized doublewide trailer sat in the middle of the street on eight squat legs with wide pads. Four giant rectangular, blocky engine nacelles pivoted on rotating mounts, currently facing downwards and idling, sending out a spray of mist and foam in every direction. They were loud, but not deafeningly so. Alexandria was nowhere to be seen. Dragon was sitting not far from where I’d been molting. I looked over to her.

  I held my chest and coughed once, then said: “Congratulations, Dragon.” She rotated her mechanical head inquisitively, and I gestured over to where the remains of my larger form were either currently crumbling into dust and getting blasted away on the wind, or melting into clear goop and sinking into the flooded sidewalk. “On your first child, I mean. Congratulations, it’s… blue.”

  A panel popped out of the suit’s chest, flipped one eighty, then retracted and locked back into place. A display blinked into life, a clear sheet of what I assumed to be polymer protecting it. Dragon smiled at me.

  “It’s good to see you recovering, Apex. I regret to inform you that I have not received any adoption papers.”

  I threw my upper arms up. “Postal service! It never runs on time!” I took the chance to take stock of myself. Legs good, upper arms good, lower left arm good. Lower right arm was missing entirely. I had less than a third of the armor plating I’d normally have. I assumed what I had was the only bits that were salvageable. It was sort of scattered around my form randomly. My tail was intact, but looked… sort of ratty? It was thin, narrow from the base to the claws at the end. Muscle visibly bulged and rippled under my hide when I moved it around.

  I clicked my tongue. Since the update to my form and subsequent bulking-up yesterday morning, I didn’t look like I had a ton of body fat, looking much more visibly muscular and defined. Don’t get me wrong, my muscles were bigger. Rather significantly so, but I had a fairly smooth hide before, and now I sort of had a monster beach bod going on. Was I storing fat, or whatever my equivalent was in my tail now? It would explain why my tail looked slightly out of place with the rest of me at the moment.

  “Problem, Apex?” Dragon asked me. I turned back to her after doing a bit of preening.

  I shook my head. “Nah. Just doing a status check on myself.”

  “We’re nearly done securing Leviathan for transport. Would you like to come with us?”

  My wings were regrown. Back down to my normal arrangement of six. They were folded up currently. I waggled them around and tried extending them in the limited space we had. They weren’t wanting to unfold at the moment, and the color of my membranes looked off. A milky white rather than transparent. I think they were still cooking, or drying, or whatever.

  “Where are you going?” I asked her.

  “PRT HQ Downtown. The Rig has been evacuated and secured. Initial structural scans are showing the hull is seriously compromised in a number of places. We’ll need more time to be able to determine if it can be salvaged.”

  I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, and my stomach was rumbling and protesting. The HQ would have food. I was pretty sure we were still under truce, so I shouldn’t have to worry about getting arrested or something.

  “Yeah, sure. But only if I can have ice cream.”

  She laughed. I climbed up the ramp for the giant vehicle and lay down on the floor. Ten or so people were inside. Several flight crew members and several heavily armed officers. The flight crew was winching down giant straps that looked like fire hoses. I fluttered my wings to try and cool down and hopefully dry them out while the huge bay doors were open. My energy levels were coming back up, but at a snail’s pace. I needed to eat. I’d gladly pig out on the PRT’s dime at the moment.

  I was deeply, deeply exhausted. Shifting back had given me enough juice to keep going, but I could feel weariness in every muscle and bone. My body felt big, heavy, and slow in ways it normally didn’t. It bothered me.

  I wanted to make some calls and send some messages, but at some point during the fight, I’d lost my civilian phone. No doubt destroyed beyond any recovery. My good phone was back at the station. I needed to get back there and secure the place.

  About five minutes passed when I heard a hydraulic whine. The bay doors started rising up and sealed us in, dim lighting inside keeping things visible. The noise picked up outside, but it was surprisingly quiet inside. The ride was smooth, too.

  It must be amazing to be a tinker. To be able to build stuff like this.

  The flight over was short. We really weren’t that far; it was on the other side of the downtown area from the part that was now just… a lake. We landed on the street out front. The building had landing pads on the roof, but I doubt they were meant for however much the combined weight of this monster vehicle was, plus one dead endbringer, and then me.

  The doors dropped down, and I stepped out along with the officers. The doors went back up. Dragon had already landed, and her head was swivelling from side to side, scanning for any trouble.

  There was an insane number of PRT officers set up around the makeshift landing area. Heavy cruisers, barricades, gun emplacements. I imagined they had been here to protect the premises from Leviathan and were sticking around now to protect the corpse. I sort of wondered what it was they were planning on doing with it. Probably going into some secret research facility in the heart of a mountain or something.

  There were no capes awaiting my arrival. Just one person, standing in front of the doors, under the shelter of the overhang. It was only lightly sprinkling, and the skies were steadily clearing. It looked like it was going to be a nice day. I padded up to the front doors, cool and collected. Extended my one human hand to Director Piggot.

  She took it and shook it. Her bobbed hair looked slightly messy, but she was otherwise the same old Piggot as she ever was.

  “Walk with me. We’ll be taking the cargo elevator on account of your accessibility needs. Here,” she handed me an ID badge. A generic badge with red-level access. That was protectorate access, virtually free rein of the building. She gave me a sharp look when I hung it from the side of my face. “This is being given to you on a provisional basis. Abuse it and lose it. Do not make me regret it.” I dipped my head to her. She hit the wheelchair access button, the doors opened, and I followed her inside. We rode the elevator in silence up to one of the Protectorate floors.

  I followed her through the hallways, using the odd, slow, slinking gait that had become my norm some time back. I was virtually silent in sharp contrast to her low heels. We came up to a large set of double doors with status lights on them. She pressed a button on the door controls and inserted her badge into a card reader. The lights blinked from red to green, and the doors opened. I stepped through with her.

  Inside was an expansive open room. Sort of a cross between an office space, a meeting room, and a situation room. One wall was a full-sized wall display, some ten feet tall and fifty wide, split up into an array of maps layered with diagrams, security system information for PHQ and the Rig, and a huge number of camera feeds. Many in the building, and far more all over the city.

  There were fifteen or twenty people in a mix of suits and PRT fatigues operating desk stations, quietly talking on headsets, and walking around the room, relaying information between teams. There was a huge table that looked like a futuristic oval racetrack with fancy high-backed office chairs surrounding it. I saw some had names of protectorate members embroidered into them. Melody had a chair, but her name was stuck on with a patch that read “Eclipse.”

  Someone walked up to me with a fancy digital camera and asked me to lower myself to about eye level to take my photograph. I sat down and rested on my elbows, held up my one human hand, and threw the camera a V for victory. The cameraman looked over at Piggot as I held the pose. She scowled at me.

  “I have a carapace for a face, allow me a little room to express myself, a girl can’t even properly smile for a photograph,” I told her. She gave me a flat look. “Just be happy it’s two fingers, Director.” Piggot turned and flicked a hand dismissively at the photographer, who snapped a few photos. When he scurried off, I turned my head to Piggot. “Trust me, you don’t want to see me smile for the camera. That really was the best option.”

  She glanced back at me. “You know, I don’t remember you being this much of a wisecrack when you worked here. You were quite professional.”

  I took a little breath, then sighed. “You’re not wrong, Director, but part of it is what I just said. It’s very difficult to express nuance and mood to people with no face, when gesturing with my hands and body means waving around deadly weapons, and when just looking at people makes them uncomfortable.”

  She pressed her lips together and studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “I see. That’s solid logic. Just bear in mind the gravitas of the situation at hand, and that many people might not appreciate someone cracking jokes.”

  I dipped my head to her. She held a hand out and said, “Badge.” In no uncertain terms. I extended the tentacle that I was holding it in to her, and she took it. I wondered what I’d done to get my access revoked already, but she swapped the badge out with a fresh one that the photographer or aide, or whatever they actually were, brought her. She handed me my new badge, this one with a stylish blue beast throwing the peace sign on it.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Apex - Protectorate ENE - Provisional Member

  Issued: 05/15/11

  Expiration: 08/15/11

  There were some other details on it. I hung it in my hair.

  Piggot checked her wrist. “We should be about another ten minutes before they arrive.”

  My stomach roared in protest, and Piggot gave me side eye. “So uh… I really should eat.”

  “Can it not wait a few hours for debrief and status updates to conclude?”

  “Probably not, no. This is sorta like a low blood sugar situation. I burned like, literally every ounce of nutrition I had stored in the fight, and to stabilize myself. Sorry. I can just… leave? Surely you don’t actually need me here.”

  Piggot snapped her fingers and motioned the poor guy I was now calling the cameraman, over to us.

  She looked back at me. “Unless it’s an emergency, yes, it’s best that you’re here. Alexandria is already gone, and it would be better if we didn’t have to wait hours for her report to come in. She gave a bulleted list of key details and events to us, but we’ll expect you to fill in what you can.”

  A thought occurred to me. I lowered my voice. “I’m not uh… under house arrest, am I?”

  Piggot gave me another flat look. “No. You’re here voluntarily for as long as you like. You wouldn’t have a badge, otherwise.”

  I bobbed my head. “Can I visit my old team when we’re done here?”

  Her expression softened. Something I’d only seen a few times, and never directed at me or the other Wards. “Yes, of course.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat. “Yes, I think that would be a very good idea, come to think of it. A familiar face might do them a lot of good. They are struggling with the losses.”

  I winced. I honestly didn’t know who all had died, but judging by how active the armband had been during the fight, I knew it had to be pretty bad.

  The cameraman came over to us. “Get Apex what they want to eat from the canteen, and be quick about it.” The cameraman looked over at me.

  “You got a notepad or something? Phone you can take a note on?”

  He nodded quickly.

  “Okay, I’ll take what you have if they have to substitute anything. One of those big drums of ice cream. Five gallons of protein shake with whole milk, peanut butter, and fruit, throw a bunch of those multivitamins and electrolyte packs in there, too.” He tapped rapidly on his phone.

  “Five pounds of potatoes, hash browns, fries, whatever. A whole tub of fried rice with eggs and bacon, like five, ten pounds worth. Ten pounds of monster trail mix. Just dump nuts, cheese, oil, salt, and sugar in a tub. Either a bag of rice, or four or five pounds of oatmeal, barley, cornmeal, whatever. Raw is fine.”

  His fingers were clicking like mad on his phone, and his eyes were progressively bulging out of his head more and more as I continued. “Two flats of eggs, raw, boiled, don’t care. Ten pounds of the greasiest, fattiest beef you have, ten pounds of fish, frozen if you have it, and ten pounds of liver, organ meat, pork shoulder, or whatever. Like five or ten pounds of bones, if they have any for stock. If not, I’ll just take a couple of gallons of bone broth. Ten pounds of pork belly, bacon, or something similar. Bone in on the meat, if they have it.”

  I cleared my throat. “Think that’ll do it, thanks! Oh, and a bath towel. You know, for spills.”

  Piggot’s eyelid twitched at the mention of spills. Our courier took off doing a power walk. Probably to escape the director, if I had to guess.

  “Are you having fun at our expense?” She asked me, her voice tight.

  I tilted my head, then shook it. “No, Director. On light to medium activity days, I usually eat thirty-five to fifty pounds of food. I usually get buckets of meat and bone scraps. Other than being a bit more than double what I’d normally eat, the only really splurge item was the ice cream. I’m craving some. Probably for the sugars and fats.”

  She rubbed her forehead, walked over to one of the desks and pulled a printout from the tray of a laser printer, and brought it over to me. I glanced down at the list.

  Three columns of names. Fit for duty on the left, recovery required in the middle, confirmed casualties on the right. I read over the list and let out a slow, deep exhale. The list on the left was tiny. The list on the right was entirely way too large. I think the most troubling of the bunch was the list at the bottom of the columns. “Unknown status.”

  There were a lot of names that I recognized on the fatalities list. Many whom I knew on some level, and several I knew much better than merely in passing. The people I’d directly worked with in the PRT: Aegis, Gallant, and Velocity. Shielder, who was a member of New Wave. Victoria and Amy’s cousin. Other locals. Kaiser and Fenja. Many others with whom I had some level of name recognition with, but didn’t know.

  Carlos and Dean.

  I felt the constriction in my chest that would normally signal I was about to cry, but of course, I lacked all the hardware to do so. Maybe one of the small blessings that my form brought me. As much as I found my inability to express myself with body language when I wanted to frustrating, there was some marginal benefit in not being able to do it when I didn’t want to.

  I focused on controlling my breathing instead. I had to stay strong right now. For my sister, for Vicky, and for my old team. I’d be their Rock of Gibraltar.

  The list of people fit for duty was sobering. Miss Militia. Battery. Eclispe, who had an asterisk next to her name. I looked for what that meant right away. Still in training. Okay, that was good. There was a separate list for Wards. Weld, with a double asterisk. Kid Win, Shadow Stalker, Vista. Flechette.

  Huh. Interesting.

  I looked up the double asterisk. Transfer in progress.

  Everyone else was wounded and required medical attention, or maybe psychological care. Hell, probably both.

  I took a deep breath, and I was only a little shaky. My mind was racing at breakneck speed. I glanced up from the paper to Director Piggot. There were a few things on my mind. I’d put my own business in the rear for the moment.

  I cleared my throat. “You’re critically shorthanded, even if this were normal operations. And it most certainly is not.” I thought for a moment. “Things are going to get real ugly, real fast. There was already a pretty oversized villain presence in the city before. Now we have the Travellers here as well, and they’re all fairly dangerous on their own. And a bit of a wildcard.”

  Her expression darkened just a touch, and she nodded curtly. “Spot-on with the analysis.” She glanced over at some of the tactical maps of the city on the displays. “I wouldn’t have expected any less from you.”

  It hurt to hear. Her final assessment of me had been brutal, but not entirely unkind. Piggot wasn’t a kind woman. She was blunt and pragmatic, largely lacking in sentiment, often very utilitarian. But under all of that, she was human, too. She never let that side of herself show, not ever. I could see stress on her face, in her shoulders, and posture.

  I opened my mouth to continue with other things that I’d been thinking about, but she held up a hand. “Save it for the meeting. As you observed, time is now a precious resource, and it’s best not wasted repeating ourselves.”

  I nodded.

  “Flechette is good. I think she’ll be a good addition to the team here. She… might be in for a little bit of a culture shock, though. Coming from New York, and especially into this environment.”

  “How so?” Piggot asked.

  I clicked my tongue. “New York is a big city, sure, lots of villains and more mundane emergency response, but they also have a huge number of heroes. Both big and small. And there are many teams within an hour or two's response time distance they can call in for backup. We’re much more skewed in ratio here; we have some real nasty villains that we’re all sort of used to from exposure. And we can’t just call in Legend if something starts getting out of control.”

  Piggot hummed under her breath. “Noted,” she said without adding anything further.

  “Can I ask who Weld is? And is he coming in permanently?”

  “Member of Boston Wards. Very capable. Very similar to you.”

  I tilted my head. Piggot explained: “Brute and changer, his body is entirely metal.” She paused a moment, moistening her lips, then added, “Also very good with people.”

  Wow, a roundabout compliment. I’ll take what I can get.

  I remained silent, and she continued: “He’s going to be coming in to replace Aegis as team lead.”

  Hm.

  I lowered my voice. “I won’t comment on Weld until I get a chance to meet him and hopefully understand him, but I wouldn’t discount Dennis, either. He’s capable.”

  Piggot nodded curtly. “Capable, yes. But he’s not ready. His family situation is currently pulling much of his attention. Which is perfectly understandable.”

  Oh hell.

  Clockblocker’s father was terminally ill. Cancer, if I remembered correctly. If he wasn’t doing so well, I could totally see Piggot’s point. He’d be distracted by it, certainly. But he should be. Should be trying to spend time with his family and not be caught up working like this.

  The entrance to the room beeped, and we both turned to look. It wasn’t the people we were waiting for, but a delivery of my brunch on several heavily loaded carts. The growl of my stomach cut through the chatter of the room, and several people froze up and looked over at me.

  “Sorry. Skipped breakfast,” I told the room. I got odd looks, but people resumed working.

  I looked at some of the containers the food was in. Mostly big holding and transfer tubs, and numerous large stock pots. One cart was loaded up with meat. My mouth watered. Eating this without making either a spectacular mess or flashing my chompers repeatedly to the room was going to be nearly impossible. Time to see if my power had any ideas.

  I need like… a straw tongue, or something. Maybe with some graspers or things to manipulate food.

  My power responded immediately, almost playfully splashing around me. Add it to the mountain of strange things that had happened today. I allowed the change through, and I felt my tongue and throat squirming and moving around. Mildly gross feeling, but right now I was so hungry that I’d put up with just about anything that meant getting dense nutrition into my body.

  I found a clear spot on the floor where I wasn’t blocking anything, and set about eating. I wound up using the towel as a sort of veil draped around my snout, pinning it in place with a few tiny tentacles. Piggot was doing the blank stare thing at me again.

  “Just trust me, it’s for you and everyone else’s benefit.”

  I cracked my mouth open and stuck my tongue out, looking at it with the eyes under my jaw.

  Oof. Yeah, good call on the veil.

  It was longer, thicker, just as prehensile as before. A mouth at the blunt tip, with exposed murder-teeth, a single row on the top and bottom. Three articulated insectile mandibles on each side of the mouth with sharp claws. I did my best to memorize this change. This would go into the filing cabinet of ‘shit to terrorize people with.’

  With that done, I lowered my head over a huge rectangular metal bin full of what I was pretty sure was protein shake, and dropped my tongue into it. Drinking with my tongue wasn’t terribly different than drinking with a straw, except I wasn’t applying suction. My tongue was just gulping it up directly with undulating contractions and depositing it directly into my stomach. It wasn’t messy or terribly noisy. It did sound like someone was audibly chugging, but that was socially acceptable.

  I have to admit. This is damn convenient.

  It felt like my body was tearing apart and digesting everything I was eating as fast as I was eating it. I felt immediate relief, though. My hunger had hit the point where it was actually painful, but now the edge was lessening. The thick shake tasted great, too. Peanut butter and vanilla, chunks of nuts, and small dried fruits. Very sweet and creamy. Loaded with nutrients.

  The door beeped once more, not long after I set about refueling, and this time it was the group we’d been waiting on. Miss Militia was leading, and Colin was behind her.

  Odd.

  He looked like absolute shit and very out of character. His shoulders were slumped, and his head was hanging low. He was in civilian clothing. Jeans, boots, and a polo shirt. His left arm was gone entirely, the sleeve hanging limp and covering the wound. No stump or anything, and no blood or bulky bandaging. I wondered if Panacea had treated him, or if it was someone else with healing powers.

  I was shocked and confused by one thing, though. He had a very unflattering armband on around his right wrist. I recognized it at a glance. It was a standard PRT issue. A shielded and reinforced tracking beacon with remote-controlled electrical discharge and tranquilizers loaded into it, along with a bevy of anti-tampering equipment. They were used on anyone who was let out of containment cells, like for going to receive medical care. And for people who were being released for trial and sentencing at a later date, who didn’t pose a serious hazard or flight risk and didn’t warrant the limited space available for containing capes.

  What the hell? Is he under arrest? What is going on here?

  I kept my mouth shut. Not literally, of course, I was still gorging myself silly. Colin glanced up at me as he was led over and took a seat at the table next to Miss Militia. She looked pissed. Walking in behind those two were Legend, Battery, Dauntless, and Deputy Director Renick. With the exception of Colin, everyone else was in their costumes. Everyone present was at some level of battered and worn-down. They’d gotten some healing, because where their suits were damaged–some bloodstained–and skin was exposed, there were no visible open wounds, just bruising. Everyone filed in and took seats facing the wall displays.

  I pulled a huge chunk of meat into my mouth with my tongue and crunched on it. Deputy Director Renick partially turned his seat around and glared back at me. “If you have to continue eating, can you at least chew with your mouth closed?” I wasn’t fond of his tone. Condescending and dismissive. I crunched once more, then gulped down a big chunk of cow, then cleared my throat.

  I spoke without using my tongue, using the imitation I’d been learning to use, but I kept my voice as it was, as Apex. My new normal. Deep and resonant. “That would require a face and lips. Neither of which I have.”

  I ate another piece of bony meat. The man frowned and narrowed his eyes at me. “Can it not wait until after this meeting?”

  I gestured with one human hand over at the capes who had come in. “They got healing for their wounds. This is my version.”

  Piggot spoke up. “It’s fine. Apex, we have a video call in–” she checked her watch. “Sixteen minutes. Be done by then.” I nodded to her.

  The lights dimmed, and the meeting started with a very short debrief of what everyone had experienced. I remained silent and continued eating. I was going to meet that deadline with plenty of room to spare. As I started to overtake the immediate need for nutrition, my power stirred. A familiar sensation, one of regeneration or repair.

  Yes, but I need to remain awake and alert.

  It bubbled and shifted slightly, and I let it through to work. Heat in my wings and in the armpit of my right upper arm. Good. It was weird being lopsided and only having one usable hand. Slowly but surely, the flesh along my right side started to bulge outwards. I kept eating and observed the members of the Protectorate present as they reported in.

  Battery was a mover, and a fairly strong one at that. She had to charge herself with her power before she could utilize it to boost her speed and strength, thus the name. She was of an average height and had her helmet off, revealing her brown eyes and auburn hair. Pretty in a very girl-next-door way. I don’t think she was much older than I was. Twenty, maybe? She was married to Assault, whom I had met a few times and was fond of.

  I polished off my meat cart and pushed it to the side to be collected.

  Dauntless was in his armor, but he’d stowed his weapons somewhere. He had a Roman legionary style to his costume. Sort of a mix between a tinker’s functional power armor and something designed for a look or image. He had on a breastplate with armored shoulders, an armored skirt, knee-high metal boots, and heavy gauntlets that came up nearly to his elbows. Topped off with a helmet with the same styling, partially open-faced, with a T-shaped cutout in the middle. The eye slits shadowed his eyes, and a big nose guard protected his upper face and left his mouth and chin visible.

  Like his armor, his power was sort of a weird fusion ability that was a bit like a tinker’s. Rather than building up tech and gadgets that messed with physics or generated effects, his power imbued objects and granted the objects abilities of a similar nature. His boots let him fly, his shield was a forcefield, and he had a spear made out of what was essentially lightning in a bottle. He could extend it and shoot lightning out of the tip of the spear. The output was variable and under his control, so it could stun someone or cause major damage, depending on the desired outcome.

  It was rumored that he was shortlisted for leadership roles in the Protectorate. A lot of speculation circulated about the other effects and abilities his armor piece might grant him. I didn’t know him well. We’d met twice and exchanged handshakes; that was about it.

  That left Legend. Leader of the entire Protectorate. He was unreasonably handsome. He had a swimmer’s build, lean but muscular, triangular in shape. He wore his wavy brown hair loosely parted to one side. It always looked lightly tousled or windblown, and I wasn’t sure if that was because it actually was, or if it was the product of styling. He had a blue and white skintight bodysuit on that covered him from the neck down. Some very subtle armor panels and plates were built into it. Nearly seamless, they accentuated his form in key areas and presumably offered some protection.

  As much as Alexandria had been a personal hero of mine, so too was Legend. In the case of Alexandria, I loved what she represented. Strength, intractability, someone who didn’t hesitate for a second to throw herself in front of others to protect them. She was a badass, sure, but one who strived to help save lives. Legend held a close spot in my heart for an entirely different reason.

  He was the leader of the Protectorate, arguably one of the most powerful organizations, if not the most, on the entire planet. And he was openly, proudly homosexual. He spoke on, campaigned for, and defended gay and queer rights throughout the U.S. and Canada. The simple fact that he held the position that he did, one of not only power and prestige, but also of nearly universal renown and respect, shaped and framed the entire conversation around the subject. Favorably, and to a massive extent.

  Legend was also a member of the Triumvirate, the three most powerful heroes in the Protectorate. There had been a fourth as well, Hero, but he’d been dead for some time now. I remembered seeing the news report of his death as a child on the nightly news with my parents. He’d been killed by The Siberian.

  Legend’s power was pretty basic on paper. He shot lasers. He could fly, and he could convert himself into an energy form briefly to survive otherwise lethal or devastating attacks. What differentiated him from most other Blaster capes was the sheer scale, power, and fine control he had over his lasers. He could shoot small lasers, big lasers, lasers that froze or heated things. The big thing was that he could branch his lasers out and control them independently, in parallel. One laser could become fifty, each precisely targeted. He could also bend and warp them around mid-flight, which made him scarily accurate against most capes.

  I was a little starstruck and in my feelings with him here. Hopefully, I’d get the chance to talk to him at some point. For now, though, I continued eating and listening attentively. I finished off the second cart of food, leaving the best for last. I picked up a five-gallon paper drum of ice cream, peeled off the metal lid, and started munching on it like an ice cream sandwich.

  I let out a pleased little groan after the second bite. I totally hadn’t meant to, but it was so good. I glanced up from my ice cream to see that Legend had turned around in his chair and was looking at me. I was mortified. He just smiled and waved at me.

  Belatedly, I waved back. He turned back to the meeting.

  Holy shit, get your act together, Morgan.

  Eating the ice cream the way I was, I finished both of the drums quickly and licked the lids clean before setting them on the cart and flagging down the cameraman, who came and collected them. I was feeling fat and happy. Not literally. I didn’t even really feel full despite the massive amount of food I’d just eaten. I wasn’t… entirely sure I was capable of feeling the sensation of fullness. But I was feeling satisfied. Pleasurable tingling running up and down my spine. My tail was warm, and a glance back at it revealed it had filled out some.

  Legend had just finished delivering a report, and I’d taken off my ‘veil’ and placed it on one of the carts like a used napkin when all the heads in the room turned to me.

  “Apex. We are ready for you to deliver your report,” Piggot said. She checked her watch. “You have six minutes.”

  I glanced around at all the people studiously paying attention to me right now, from the capes to the PRT employees.

  No pressure, Morgan. Just have to deliver a report on your participation in killing an endbringer to the leader of the entire Protectorate.

  What could possibly go wrong?