Dean stumbled through the infirmary, totally exhausted. More than a day had passed since he'd last slept, hours since his fight with Bonesaw's creations. Searching for Amy turned up nothing, but they'd stopped after... God, fuck, if he'd been there he could have prevented it! Instead he had been searching the section just adjacent to Victoria's, close enough for her to fly to him when...when Amy...

  He slumped against the wall outside Amaranth's room. How was he going to tell her that, despite everything he'd done, he'd failed her? She already felt awful about...everything around this stuff, learning that might hurt worse.

  Was this why Amaranth felt like she did, failing and failing again to prevent dire things from happening? It would explain...well, a hell of a lot really. Dean wished it was something he could help her with, but after tonight he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the future again.

  With a quiet sigh, he pushed open the door to Amaranth's room. Her palette flickered with the wild spectrum Dean knew was REM sleep. Good, she needed it. He sat as quietly as he could in the chair beside her bed, not wanting to disturb her. Despite being careful, he saw her aura flicker again, the dread-black and anxious-orange rising to become more prominent. Slowly, her head turned to face him.

  “Hey,” Dean said quietly, forcing a smile. “How are you feeling?”

  “What happened?” He barely caught the whisper and his smile faltered. Orange became dominant. “Dean, what happened?”

  “Easy, easy,” he replied, holding out his hands. “It's okay, we chased Bonesaw off.”

  “What about Amy?” His face fell and a terribly familiar, oily colour began to appear in her palette. “No, no please no she's--”

  “She's alive,” Dean said quickly. At least, she had been the last time he'd heard. “She's...she ran away.”

  “Why?”

  “Because--” He swallowed. Could he even tell her? No, no it was far too--

  “Oh my god.” Her palette was swallowed up by a well of despair, the sickening oily suicidal urge floating throughout. “She didn't...no, Dean you were there. She couldn't have--” Amaranth gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fuck!”

  The sudden scream caught him off-guard. The anger at Amy quickly turned on Lia, her palette growing darker and uglier. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she cried silently, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Dean reached out and put one of his bare hands atop hers, drawing out a whimpering sob.

  “It's going to be okay,” he reassured her. “We'll find her and set things right.”

  He wasn't sure how Lia knew, but it was obvious she did. Dean still couldn't bring himself to say it out loud though. She nodded mutely, then pulled the covers off. She was still dressed in her costume, soaked in Miss Militia's blood. Dean grimaced, but Lia didn't seem to notice. Her palette was all hideous shades of black and madder.

  “Going to bed,” she said, not bothering to grab her mask or raise her hood. “See you.”

  “Li-- Amaranth, hold on.” She paused in the doorway, halfway gone already. “Would you please tell me what you're thinking.” She twitched.

  “You already know.”

  “No, I don't,” Dean admitted, shaking his head. “I know how you're feeling, I...I still need your help knowing why.” He remembered Dr. Yamada saying something about his power like that.

  “I'm thinking I'm going to go to bed,” Lia replied flatly. “And I hope I'm not going to wake up.”

  “You...just woke up.”

  “Mm.” She cocked her head slightly. “Shame.” Her palette was dulling, the vivid blacks and reds desaturating, greying. “Good night Dean. I'm...sorry, about Victoria. I tried.”

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  The door shut quietly behind her, leaving Dean alone in the hospital room. He wanted to follow, find the right thing to say that would...fix this. It was a bad impulse, one he was working on, but right now he wanted nothing else. It still didn't give him the energy to get up and go. He slumped in the chair, eyes shut, then started as his radio crackled to life in his ear.

  “Gallant?” A voice spoke. He blinked his sandy-feeling eyes. “It's Battery, we need you in Boardroom Four.” He sighed, then tapped the earbud.

  “On my way,” he replied, slipping his helmet over his head. “What's it about?”

  “Reinforcements.”

  His shoulders sagged, finally they were getting backup. Weld and Flechette were great, but the Protectorate lost a lot of firepower. With everything going on...yeah, they had needed more heroes last month. Gallant took a deep breath and drew himself up, at least looking the part of a Ward captain. He headed out of the infirmary and up.

  Who would be waiting? The kid excited about superheroes in him, not quite yet crushed, was hoping it would be Eidolon, or even Legend. That wasn't likely though, the Triumvirate was always in high demand. Narwhal would be good to have on-side, defense and offense all rolled up in one. Or maybe Myrddin, though he was probably pretty busy.

  The elevator jostled to a stop, letting him out on the fourth floor. It was just a short walk to the boardroom, one of dozens. Despite his exhaustion, despite the hell that these past two days had been, there was a little flutter of excitement in his chest. He shook his head to clear it, then gripped the doorknob and pushed his way into the boardroom.

  “Ah, there you are Gallant,” Director Piggot greeted him. Wait, she wasn't at the head of the table. “Please have a seat, we don't have time to waste.”

  “Please director,” a bassy, almost noble voice spoke from her usual seat. “Introductions are hardly an emergency.”

  Gallant stepped into the room and looked to the head of the table and oh that was Legend... He stood, with four other capes seated around him, none he was familiar with. Only one looked to be Ward-aged though, in a black costume with a gas mask, the others were clearly adults.

  One wore heavy armour plates, much cruder than Gallant's own but looked far tougher. Another wore a bear mask that covered most of her face, and the last wore a more 'normal' heroic costume, tight and bright, not unlike Amaranth's. He took a seat between Battery and the guy in armour, his attention wholly focused on the Triumvirate member in the room.

  “I'm sorry things have gotten so bad,” Legend started, meeting Gallant's eyes, despite the helmet hiding them. “I hope you don't feel we've arrived too late.”

  “No sir,” he replied quickly, heart beating a little quicker. “I'm glad to see so many heroes here to help.”

  “Yes, well, introductions then.” Legend gestured to the man in armour and the Ward. “Adamant, Cache,” then to the two women across the table. “Ursa Aurora, and Prism. Some of the best heroes the New York team has. We're here for one reason: the Slaughterhouse Nine.” The mood in the room turned. “We've lost too many heroes to them already, and I want to put a stop to it.

  “The Nine are dangerous, you don't need me to tell you that. We know why they're here too: seeking a new member. So far, two nominees have been identified; Panacea and Armsmaster. The former is missing, and the latter is unfit for duty but safe. We ought to prioritize--” He stopped as Gallant cleared his throat. “Something to add.”

  “Uh, well...” Gallant shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We might know another one.”

  “Who?” The question was sharp and immediate, enough that he was taken aback by the shift in tone.

  “Amaranth, one of my Wards,” he explained. “She was on patrol with Miss Militia and...and she was the only one that survived. They were attacked by Jack Slash, and she was found with a knife in hand.” His stomach churned as Legend's neutral expression shifted to a frown. “I don't think she did anything wrong sir, but I can't think of another reason he'd leave her alive like that.” Legend hummed thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

  “It sounds possible,” he replied. “May I speak with her?”

  “She's resting, sir,” Gallant said, shaking his head. “Maybe tomorrow but...she's not doing good. I can't even say if she'd talk back.” She had earlier, to him, but he'd also been the only one she'd spoken to.

  “A shame,” Legend said with a sigh. “Well, if we can confirm that we ought to put her under observation. If the Nine come to test her, we can use the opportunity to ambush and take them out. Thank you, Gallant.” He nodded sharply, a note of pride swelling in his chest. “How long has it been since you slept?” He blinked.

  “Uh...” Gallant scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe...thirty hours?” It couldn't have been forty-eight, not yet. Right?

  “Get some rest,” Legend replied, ordered really. “Planning can wait until the morning.”

  “Yes sir,” he said, rising from his chair. “Thank you.” Legend gave him a nod. He looked at the director, who also nodded, then headed out.

  Despite the buzz of energy he'd been given by the word of reinforcements, he was exhausted. Even though it mostly supported itself, his armour had never felt heavier, and his eyes felt heavier still. Gallant leaned against the wall of the elevator as it headed down, nearly falling asleep. He jerked upright when the doors slid open. The Ward quarters were quiet, the PRT was handling overnights for console duty, so the one down here was empty.

  Gallant trudged to his room, sealed his door, and stripped his armour. He didn't have the energy to put it away properly, just left it sitting scattered over his floor. He collapsed onto the overly-firm, Ward-issued mattress and let out a sigh. He shut his eyes and hoped against hope things would finally start looking up.