Little Henwood, Reformationist Headquarters

~2 weeks until next transmission

Being upset could be weird sometimes.

After the absolute disaster that had occurred to Martin and his fellow mages last week, Henry had felt like there couldn't be any possible way that he might recover things considering how badly it had all ended up. He hadn't had the heart to respond to anyone, to look them in the eyes, he hadn't eaten, he'd barely slept the following night… the list went on. To him, things had seemed utterly hopeless at first, and that sense of hopelessness had washed over him completely for a good while after.

But… that wasn't the part he found odd. Matter of fact, he'd more or less expected that response. No, what was strange to him was that, in the days after, that hopelessness hadn't kept that same shape. Instead, it had twisted itself into something he didn't think he was quite familiar with.

Raw, unadulterated spite. A sense – no, a need – to be the one to put things back in their proper places.

In the days after the battle at the warehouse, he – out of nowhere – found himself with a lot of motivation to act, but not a lot of options. It proved to be a vicious cycle, making Henry want to do more to resolve things, driving him scrounge harder and more fervently piece together what fighting tools he could, only to keep coming to the same conclusion that what he had wouldn't be enough. An ouroboros of action and assessment, spinning like a whirlpool in his head, slowly but surely eating up every last waking moment he had available to dedicate.

Right now, he was in the midst of his most refined iteration to date. The candlelight inside of the hovel Enrico had so generously gifted him guttered slightly, as he went through the motions yet another time.

"Now, let's recap…" he mumbled. "Assemblage of water pipes that might technically constitute a shotgun… some shells that fit inside, filled with coarsely ground Fire Domain crystals… the metal pipe that ignores Newton's Third Law… Fauna Domain salves for healing… hmm… it feels like something's still missing…"

Staring down at his chest, he tsked in frustration.

"Right, of course! How could I forget? My shitty duplicating ability that made me a Devil in the first place! Can't you get with the program and die already, you crazy clone?!"

He vented his frustrations into the empty air. That was the other thing that had him in a bad mood. Try as he might, he'd been cut off from his own powers for a week straight now.

Apparently, the one duplicate that had gone berserk fighting before running headfirst into that equally battle-hungry vampire lord was still in play… somewhere. Somehow. He'd probably be more than a little impressed at the feat if it wasn't actively ruining his plans currently. All he could really do about it was curse his rotten luck for the fifth time today, and throw in a bit of muttering under his breath for good measure as he returned to inventorying what he'd taken to calling his 'war stash'.

Might as well tell it like it is, considering my intentions…

"…Cigars that flood the whole room with smoke when you stamp them out… check. Surprisingly functional Domain-powered hoverboard… check. The Deja Vu Coin… check, and throw in the mental note that the implications of its existence scare the hell out of me for good measure."

It wasn't quite pertinent to tabulating his combat ability, but he still felt the need to make mention of each item. Mainly because this ridiculous stockpile still instinctively felt like all this would be inadequate for what he had in mind.

"Quite the bag of tricks you've got there," a voice interrupted from the doorway, startling Henry out of his one-sided conversation.

"Gah-! Jesus, Robb, how long've you been standing there?!"

"Long enough. Just checking in with the rest of the stragglers before I head off to bed for the night. Which, by the way, you should too."

Henry groaned in response, though not at the bedtime remark. That one was perfectly valid. It was the nickname that had come about to describe their group after the debacle last week. Stragglers.

Recovering enthralled mages nonwithstanding, they were currently sitting at a whopping five members of their group of thirty-ish still standing. And two of those were Dee and Giselle, who technically were mercenary add-ons that for some reason had decided not to cut and run.

He was appreciative a thousand times over for that, but it didn't make him like the group name any better. It just made it, regrettably, even more fitting.

Stragglers… honestly, it's like they all want to point out how bad I messed up…

"I'll keep that in mind," he mentioned dismissively. "I'll be heading off in the morning to do my part for everyone anyways, so…"

Robb frowned. "You're being too hard on yourself, Henry."

"So what if I am?" he retorted. "Someone needs to deal with this mess. Might as well be me, since I'm the one who had the genius idea to bring you all here to begin with."

"See, that right there, that's what I mean." Robb jabbed a finger at him with mild accusation, as a conversation they'd been repeating to each other day after day bubbled up once again. "We chose to follow you here to Walworth. We all had an idea of what was waiting for us on this side of the river, and yet none of us decided to risk it with the Nobles, despite that being a safe and available option. You want to know why? Because we saw what you could make happen when you set your mind to it firsthand. The blame doesn't have to fall just onto you."

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"No. It doesn't. But it makes things more convenient for everyone else if it does. Same time tomorrow, then?"

With a resigned sigh, Robb let his hand fall back down to his side. "Sure. Same time tomorrow. Maybe you'll be interested in listening to that album we found, too?"

"No thanks. You'll just use it as an excuse to push me back into leading again. So let me just save you the time, and tell you that my stance hasn't changed on the matter."

"...Very well."

Without another word, Robb spun on his heel and left, boots thudding against the pier as he departed. His movements were still a bit shaky. Evidently, it wasn't so easy to bounce back from near exsanguination as he might have wanted the rest to believe.

Before long, the only noise around was the gentle lapping of water against the wooden spars below the shanty, holding it up above the surface.

"Sorry, Robb, but you're going to have to be the one to lead them once I'm gone," he muttered. "I have a hunch who lies at the center of all this mess, and if I'm right there's no way I can justify putting anyone else in an insane position like that…"

He began putting away his items one at a time, gingerly placing them all in a lockbox at the foot of his sleeping bag. Working in reverse order, he started with the smaller items and let the more bulky pieces rest on top of the stack. He was about to put the last few weapons away when something nearby made him pause.

A clatter of something metal hitting the ground from behind the partitioning wall caused the second interruption in as many minutes. Not loud enough to immediately put him on high alert – if this place were under attack, he would have found out the hard way long before – but the fact that there was something in here with him that hadn't bothered using the front entrance was enough for him to reach for the pipe shotgun and approach with caution.

"What is going on back here…"

Henry realized partway through that he'd started talking to himself again, then decided that ultimately he didn't care too much if he was. He rounded the corner, barrel first and ready to fire if need be.

The shotgun kept trained on the impact zone – a pile of disturbed silverware and other bits he'd left lying around – while he spared a glance towards the ceiling.

"...Huh. That's new."

There was a new hole in the roof, a misshapen five-pointed star splintering through the brittle wood holding it up. Much to his chagrin, it was just big enough that he wouldn't be able to just pretend it wasn't there. He wrung the culprit responsible out of the rubble, dropping the shotgun off to the side now that he knew there wasn't some sort of threat in his room.

Just a nuisance.

"You mind telling me why you didn't bother knocking?"

Future Suit Zarya flailed uselessly as Henry picked it up by the scruff of the neck.

"A-An urgent call to arms!" the toy finally managed to say, after cycling through the beginnings of a few prerecorded voicelines and over-the-top exertion noises. "We must stand united, or fall alone!"

"Oh, great. You're trying to convince me not to leave, too? Sorry to burst your bubble, but others with more convincing arguments have already tried and failed. Name one thing that you have that could convince me otherwise. Go on. I'm legitimately curious what you think will make me not want to go through with this."

The figurine went silent, slumping from its raised position seemingly in defeat.

"...Ev," it said simply, a hint of resignation leaking into its words.

Henry's eyes narrowed.

"...Explain."

It didn't use words – probably didn't have the banked lines to do so – but it had learned how to substitute with body language pretty well. It pointed out the door, gesturing for him to put it down first, and then follow it to where he wanted to go. Having done the game of charades with the toy a few times already, he didn't have to spend any time guessing at what certain movements meant.

But… at the same time… he had no idea what it meant by them.

I've got to admit… now I'm mildly intrigued as to what it thinks is so important…

"You know what?" Henry decided. "I guess I don't have anything better to do right now. Sure. Lead the way. Let's see what you have in mind."

It fist-pumped in delight, and he put the figurine down on the ground to grab his shotgun again, slinging it over his shoulder. The toy touched down in a needlessly flashy manner with a melodramatic chime, performing one of those three-point landings that always got used in superhero media. When it stood, it almost immediately bolted for the door.

The movements were sharp and lightning quick, but it wasn't exactly running as he'd originally expected. It was more leaping around like some sort of hyperactive frog than anything. As it made its way towards the door, it cleared distances that were impressive for its size but barely made it above Henry's own waist at the apex. He was able to follow behind at a leisurely pace, walking out onto the piers outside as he followed.

The flickering specks of light hovering over the village reflected off the water as they strolled along. While it was nowhere near daylight levels of illumination, it was more than enough to see by anywhere inside the perimeter. He thought they were just going to another house, or something, so the breath of comparatively fresh air left him with not much to think about.

Until, of course, they turned towards the edges of the settlement, away from any of the known entrances used by the Reformationists.

"Hey, uh… where does this lead?" he asked, suddenly very aware that he'd only loaded a few rounds into the pipe of his weapon.

The robot offered no decipherable response. It just repeated itself.

"Ev."

"…You keep saying that, but at the same time there are some pretty big gaps in what that could possibly mean."

It shook its head, pointing deeper into an unlit storm drain. "Trust in your allies, as they would trust in you." it responded somberly.

He opened his mouth to protest, then remembered he'd done basically the exact same thing to Robb when he brought him here the first time. Would be mighty hypocritical of him to draw a line in the sand now, after he'd gone and done the same very thing and likely caused a bunch of their current problems while doing so.

"Fine," he eventually relented. "But this better be good."

That was all the approval it needed to hear. Hopping deeper into the darkness, it didn't wait for him to follow. Must have been obvious that he was going to tag along, no matter what.

Henry fumbled in his pocket for a light talisman, cracking it before he started walking in after it. A slight trickle of water flowing down the center of the pipe made his steps cause noise the whole way in, but wasn't enough to soak through anything important. By all metrics, this was turning out to be a pretty standard tunnel crawl.

They were moving through what was little more than a concrete tube, albeit one that was seemingly devoid of the usual fog. He could actually see the T-junction up ahead, which wasn't all too common in underground areas. A left, a right, then two more lefts and another right. Water splashed at his shoes as he followed, now a little deeper as the elevation shifted to a downward slope further in. The waves got even more disturbed by the constant jumping of his diminutive guide in front, each freefall hitting the surface like a skipping stone. They kept going until a small service ladder could be made out on their right, up onto a chest-high shelf of poured concrete that looked like some sort of access point to the sewer tunnels themselves.

Future Suit Zarya cleared the shelf in a single bound. He opted for the ladder, not feeling too inclined to test his luck climbing the slippery flat surface.

What waited for him at the top… he would have never guessed in a thousand years.

Random mechanical parts lay strewn about, some bits clearly stolen from elsewhere while others were definitely taken from the immediate surroundings. Junction boxes lay pried open and stripped, automotive parts lay scattered around the place – a drive train he could have sworn seeing before taking most of his attention for a few seconds – and countless other pieces of machinery that he was nowhere near qualified enough to identify. Some mundane, some enchanted, a bunch neatly organized while much more lay strewn about in an unsorted mess. All focused around a central piece that, by some miracle, seemed to be thrumming with magical power.

It was pretty much just a black box. The only standout detail he could determine from it was the pendant sunk into the face of the cube closest to him, sucking in all the light around it and casting the frame into stark contrast with the subtle glow of ley lines around it.

He had absolutely no idea what it was doing. He turned to the figurine, confused and maybe a bit perturbed.

"The bloody hell is all this-?"

"Henry?"

A familiar, synthetic voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.

"Are you out there? I thought I heard your voice, but… oh, I hope I'm not just hearing things..."

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