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.

"It was bad enough as it was, just trying to deal with a complete loss of control. Now we have proto sentient… things, alien refugees, and… grhhh… and even worse things you feel guilty over. Are you sure you have no idea where they went?"

"Y-yeah… they left me a few notes but nothing of where they went. But I wouldn't be surprised if they did turn themselves in somehow. Though whoever they chose to drop that news on would certainly have caused an incident by now."

"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 are so many that will deny you even that much. Least of all after hearing just some of what you've just said."

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.

"The fact that your powers originate from a living extinction event would be enough on its own for a permanent retirement package beneath HQ. It's no Omni, but you'd have been growing up in a sterile cube if not for my better judgment. All of this would have been way worse if we hadn't taken charge. 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. The weight returned even with it all let loose. As if there was truly nothing that could alleviate it. A strong want spreading to just curl up in a ball and disappear. 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. Like she said, it could have been far worse. But it wasn't because you were still able to make the choices you did. You chose to turn all that power toward helping people. You fought against what was controlling you. And even when you ran you tried and ended up helping 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. ...Well, at least not permanently. Some are still pretty shaken. But! But you don't deserve all the blame you've put on yourself. There are very few 'good' choices in all this. To that end though... You still can't be left to your own devices. 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 past 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 shrank back and tried to avoid looking directly into the withering eyes of god bearing down on her.

"N- N… maybe… a little."

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

"She was just my eyes and ears on the inside, nothing more. Merely transactional. Besides, you know how partitioned and nonsense Para keeps The Hill. Add in his meddling and you'd have found someone to help you out too. Hell, she was the only reason those 'midterms' were out of the Elite's hands. So don't go saying you didn't enjoy that little edge over them."

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 a justified Aegis' condemnation falling on him with nothing but a finger. A fury that turned toward him to put it into so many words and counting fingers.

"That means no powers and no more day trips into the city! You're on ultra-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 way like it was the only barrier left between them.

"You need to swear it to me this time! Swear it with everything you have! No powers, no heroics, no more dealing with all your problems on your own. No more overdoing things and making them harder for everyone who has to pick up the pieces. 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 and brave the pan. So you need to swear to me on this."

Seth was stuck with Aegis too close again, eyes locked and emotions undeniable. One already scorned and scoured promise adding everything more than deserved, and dropping one last long overdue weight on to the pile. A weight he had to accept… and had to fight his hardest for this time.

"I… I promise. I promise I won't make things worse. I won't tempt fate. And I won't overdo things. I promise I won't overdo anything anymore."

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 it pretty hard but being made of pure energy makes things iffy. There could be something of it left. But whatever that is now, it'd be 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, there won't be any coming back for that piece of shit. At least… so long as Techno doesn't go probing it with anything too electrical."

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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.

Something… still had to be…

A dark space illuminated by pin pricks of steady indication. Shadowed forms of blocky proportions and angled sturdiness. Surrounding a flowing still void. A cloaked mass swallowed by cloth and supported by table. A shadow growing darker the longer it was observed, drawing closer the longer it sat idle. Steady indication rendering 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 it naked save for its cloak. Its veil funerary. Little left to the imagination as it draped and contoured around every jagged edge and drooped into every gap. But its truest form 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 hobbling its aggression and slamming 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 welding mask with more than enough insinuation. Their suit zipped tight and fit just barely, not quite made for the stature. But made specific to bear this weight. 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 beared to the light as he wrenched its cloak away without mercy or care.

Those jagged edges of uneven strata, metal and ceramic scorched to cracking in sharp 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 burdening hand tied tight against an electrifying wand, wire running back to a crank and hazard orange box. A crank that was grasped with no loss of strength, and turned with an even exponential meter. Wheels and cogs amplifying the clink, magnetic rolls countering each other in a powering dance as indication illuminated again amid its overtaken star field. Round and round till motion became too far gone to stop now. Narrow perpetuity dragging it along as that 'good' hand released it. Allowed its mechanism to take hold and take over. Charge and recharge and go round again. Fill this world with light more purpose set. So that the work may commenced in the 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 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 of fodder flux. All in the name of its return. All in the name of getting what has been taken.

The illumination ceased, its crackling screeches replaced by beating of shape. Disjointed and warped shards hammered back to alignment, gripped in vice and slammed into submission. Into right and steady angles to be melted together again. 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. That had bred and bore something far more than mindless hate. Now bore the scars of its shattering, of its discharge from service, of its uselessness. Refuted.

Now it would serve new purpose. Now it would serve a new master. Now it was his. The funerary table clicking under unlocking stage, rails and arms shifting it head first toward an awaiting berth. That staunch hand tore its lame partner free of the burden tied to it, tools no longer necessary. Only brute excess. It clamped to the freed dolly and bullied it along, straining for lack of harmony and balance of action. But refuted in the weakness of such.

More locks stopped its travel, the berth's tethers tousled and clinking in recoil, that hand wrenching them down to hoist and raise. Magnets jumping and echoing this 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. As it was hung and set down to rest no longer.

That hated hand flopping on to a side long shelf, one bearing panels and switches wired three deep into that embracing berth. That hand contorted and twitching under the duress of will, forming tight enough to hook and bring to life. Grasping up and turning harsh, catching aligned bar, letting weight and determined force start this scaled up defibrillator. To continue the show of light and beat. And bring back to life what dared claim death.

The crash of breaker and whir of freed tension, the starting surge of air numbing 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 tearing the light away and burning 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. The gauntlets hanging limp with discolored edges crisscrossing its plates, their wrists splitting open up the forearm and revealing that pure blackness inside. And setting 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 waist, 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 opened up for his entrance. That masking metal façade was tossed aside, the shadow and plasma denying the face underneath its features. But cared so little, as he threw himself into its overcharged embrace. Head slamming the back of the helmet like there was no moment left to allow. As it 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, finding more than metal to fill full of power. Convulsion and burn, scorched hair and rattled teeth, untold volts and amps sparing nothing…

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 slow appendage forced into place against the will of grievous wounds. 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 despised hand forced up to be seen. An eye slit, burned out wide, showing that armored hand still straining to articulate. The disseminated burn across his body filling the space taken. These movements were his and his alone. The pain was his and hollow. And yet 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 tension.

An impossibility… but one he bore down on. 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 seeming to bleed into barely contained glow, those slapdash welds highlighting in cold fire 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 useless 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 was gnarled to scream into the void. All-consuming pain throwing him forward to the unprepared concrete below. Armored knees shattered it, gripped helmet trying to bury into it, and claws skewering and slashing for grounding purchase. His yells of pain hollow and buzzing. Talons tearing 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 final oration of this purest 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 abhorrence. Of beating need.

…A hole to crawl through and depose will adverse. But for now it held, it mixed and fused. Emulsion of the soul wrought and waking. That highlighted maw rising up from its torturous rebirth, back glow brought even with steadied tension. And crescendoing in the purest of solutions, as that hollowed eye opened to its fullness of menace.

And would never be closed…

Ever…

Again…

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