I opened my eyes to find the white ceiling of a hospital room above me. Usually, this kind of odd awakening came with a healthy dose of disorientation, but had come to be such a common occurrence lately. This was an actual hospital, however, and not the prefab units I had grown familiar with.

The last thing I remembered was spouting off a terrible one-liner at a monster that couldn't communicate, as I overloaded the teleportation artifact in my gun-arm. Given that I was conscious here and not in a shallow grave in the outskirts, my plan must have had some validity to it.

To my left, the sound of a turning page caught my attention. I turned my head on the soft pillow, my muscles stiff and achy. A pink-haired magical cowgirl sat on a chair, hat tipped low over her eyes as she focused on a magazine. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the blinds over the window, casting long shadows across the bed and several machines.

[Belle. What happened?]

She looked up from her reading material, some surprise in her eyes that I was awake and speaking. "Lots of things, Dubs. I assume there is one question more important than all the others, though."

Did it work? Was the question. There was no need for me to say it, so I just nodded briefly.

"As far as we can tell, yes." She lowered her magazine. "No trace of the Aberration at the site of your fight. You no longer have the mark on your shoulder, and we've had some... experts check you out while you've been here."

I could tell by her tone that she didn't care much for the credentials of those who gave me a look-over. The fact that Belle was here and not Roxy meant that they still wanted someone with magical capacity on-hand in case something went wrong.

[Last thing I remember was a flash of light as I fired on the Aberration.]

"We appeared shortly after, but I passed out from the effort, so I don't have the full picture." Belle shrugged. "The scorch mark across the ground, though… I'm not sure the artifact is meant to be used that way."

I furrowed my brow and lifted up my gun-arm. Pain radiated along from my metal hand to the depths of my skull. I had clearly fried my synapse connections and would need to recover from it. As if destiny ever let me have a breather.

"Your body was heavily lacerated, although you've healed most of that up. Other than that, you weren't particularly injured. Fatigue and exhaustion, from both the Witness and the arcane overload."

Arcane Overload was a pretty decent name for the last-ditch ability. Assuming Clara wasn't going to kill me for misusing the tech, perhaps it could be a more refined skill. I furrowed my brow as a thought struck my brain.

[What about Roy? Is he okay?]

"A little bruised." She gave me a dry smile. "The benefit of moving at great speed is being able to get out of bad situations. He saw the writing on the wall and escaped most of it. He was unconscious when we arrived, but otherwise… just insufferable."

[Insufferable?]

"He has been yammering on about being close to his breakthrough." She rolled her eyes. "Trying to convince him to stay in bed under observation has been an ordeal. That's why Roxy is in the room next door."

I nodded and relaxed back into the bed. Stared at the ceiling. Other than the super herself, Roy was the only other one of us who had traditional superpowers. For not just one, but two of my companions to achieve the rare accomplishment of expanding their natural powers, it gave validity to what Boss had told me. I was a natural boost to those around me.

[Breakthrough, huh? I'd like to see that with my own eyes.]

"As would we all," she murmured. "Now that you're awake, let me go find Clara so she can go over the technical details of what you did to yourself."

I heard her shift up from the chair and walk around the bed toward the door. She almost sounded disappointed that Roy had found a potential avenue of increased power. Maybe it was some envy over getting such an upgrade without being beholden to another entity like she was. To be fair, most of my boosts came after nearly dying. Usually self-inflicted.

All of us had improved to some degree. Belle had the least explosive and high-impact changes, which was probably one reason she had taken on the magical revolvers. Even excluding her shielding and bad-luck curses, her teleportation spells made her one of the strongest heroes in the city. Certainly valuable, even to those further afield than the League.

Ren had the least obvious path for progress. While the two superheroes were breaking their original restraints, the rest of the group were reliant on factors outside of their own potential. Belle's patron had been taking greater interest and nudging her along the path. Ren just had a magical artifact bow. She had been able to unlock a handful of wind-based attacks as she became more familiar with the weapon, but I wasn't sure if there was a hard limit there. Maybe a conversation to have with the elf.

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I remained in bed and let those thoughts melt away. Despite feeling relatively fine, I chose to rest. It was earned. Since I was in a regular hospital, I'd probably have to wait to be discharged or something. Given how I got myself here, it was a good idea.

After two long minutes of existing in peace, the door clicked open.

I glanced over to see Clara walk in. Arms crossed and with a dull expression in her eyes. She stepped closer to me and exhaled through her nose.

[First of all, I would like to apologize.]

"So you should, Gunquake. Be thankful that the League is covering the damage to the hotel." In seeing my brief confusion, she explained. "Both sections of the artifact are linked. When you overloaded the one in your arm, there were emissions back where I had stored the case containing your ammunition."

[Ah. Perhaps a good thing it wasn't in the Meteor with all of you.]

"Indeed. Apology partially accepted." She sat on the side of the bed, but still had her arms crossed. "Working with arcane artifacts is still new to me, so I am not sure if there are any lasting effects from your reckless behavior, Gunquake."

[But…]

"But there is some potential there." Clara sighed. "As much as it pains me to encourage or reward you, being able to activate the latent energy of the artifact could give rise to novel attacks or methods of problem solving."

[Without knocking myself out or nearly killing Roy.]

"The Captain is no worse for wear, although is exceptionally fidgety. He will rush off to work on his supposed breakthrough, whether we are a part of it or not, as soon as he is set free from here."

For a superhero, there were few things more important than reaching a new plateau. For most, it never happened. That was either a side-effect of the League keeping them all placated and comfortable, or such things were set in stone. Roy had received his powers later in life than most supers, so I could only imagine his hunger now that he'd had a slight taste of a greater threshold.

Roxy was almost unparalleled when it came to brute strength, and was still working on improving her lava-based skills. To have an even faster or more capable speedster…

[I'll ensure he trains under my supervision. Do you trust that we are both clean of the Aberration's lingering existence?]

Clara nodded briefly before gesturing toward the door. "The League sent over a hero, and he just left. Apparently, they had someone who specializes in otherworldly entities. Ironically, the hero—Justicart—has been trying to track you down since we came back to the city yesterday. The only reason he didn't find you sooner was because of Kingston's dampening field. Then, you teleported away from the city as he got close to the warehouse."

[How unfortunate.]

Tracking me was one thing, but I didn't hold much hope the hero would have had a way to Banish the Witness. At least, not with how little regard Belle had for the man. As a method of detecting whether the monster still clung to me? I'd accept it.

"What is fortunate, Gunquake, is that it doesn't appear that you have taken any permanent damage from the attack. Given the last three days, that's a miracle in itself. You will experience pain and fatigue through your synapse connections—affecting your legs and arm—but think of that as a warning."

[I'd say that I learned my lesson, but I can't lie to you.]

She sighed again, but visibly relaxed. "You should have seen everyone's faces after you sent the warning."

[Not yours, though? Calm and collected as usual.]

"Of course, Gunquake." Clara smiled. "As your sidekick, becoming flustered or panicked every time you sought death would be unbecoming. Especially with how often you flirt with danger."

[Speaking of that, how is Roxy?]

"I'm sure you can imagine. Currently, she is the only one of us with the… presence to keep the Captain in place and relatively quiet. The temperature difference between his room and the hallway is substantial."

[Am I allowed to walk?]

"Medically, there is little wrong with you aside from fatigue. Technically, I'm still registered as your legal caregiver. What do I get out of discharging you right now?"

While delivered with a raised eyebrow, there was a certain lack of playful insinuation on her face. She hid it better than some of us, but she was also exhausted. A long, stressful three days for her as well. I got the impression her answer was searching for the promise of peace. Some normality.

[Call up the League and get them to drop us some basic prefabs in the outskirts. One for us to sleep in, as I tire of the inner city. Another larger one so that we can go through some of your new ideas.]

The techie gave me a smug grin and nodded. "As you wish, Gunquake. You are free, although I suggest you visit the Captain first." She stood up from the bed and shot me a sly glare. "I will go do as you have commanded."

By the time I pushed my achy body up to a sitting position, she had left, closing the door behind her. The thin white sheet that had been covering me slipped down, revealing my torso. I groaned and swung my legs off the bed and stood.

My body was a criss-cross of almost healed scars. It looked as though I had been pushed through a chicken-wire fence. The Witness had certainly changed tact from removing eyeballs to shredding me into small lumps. I ignored the electric pains running up from my cybernetic limbs to my head and stepped over to another chair where some comfortable clothes had been left.

A simple plain gray t-shirt and some black shorts. I looked around the basic room, in all its light, hygienic colors. A stark contrast to the last hospital I'd been in, which was the under-construction one where I'd killed lots of mercenaries. This was more pleasant.

It almost felt like a shame to leave the room and face the real world again.

I inspected my sluggish gun-arm. Opened up the chamber, wincing as it clicked fully back. I didn't have the willpower or stomach to load up either the V-Force drive or the artifact within.

With a second, more resigned groan, I shuffled my feet over to the door. It opened up to a long corridor just as shiny and spotless as my room. There was a hint of a fragrant disinfectant lingering in the air. More importantly, I could feel warmth in the air coming from the right.

My legs complained as I slowly approached the next room down the hallway. I felt old, but accomplished. After all, there were few in Goldarch who could claim to have as many wins going up against overwhelming odds. My successes were just further reasons why the World Government wanted me either dead or captured. A thorn in their side, where the skin had already healed over the entry wound.

I pushed open the door, receiving a gust of heated air in response.

Roxy sat on a chair, her expression immediately brightening on seeing me up and walking.

Almost as grateful to see me as The Captain, who sat up in his bed, his eyes exploding out of his skull.

Figuratively.

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