“Amaranth,” Gallant greeted the Ward as she opened her door, suppressing a wince at the sight of her palette. She hadn't gotten better...

  “Gallant,” she croaked flatly. “What?” He forced a smile instead of the grimace that tried to mar his face.

  “Legend wants to talk with you,” he said, noting the flicker of goldenrod fear. “You're not in trouble, he just wants everyone to meet the reinforcements.” That wasn't it, of course, but Legend had made it clear he wanted to meet, and wasn't taking no for an answer.

  “Okay,” Amaranth replied, voice small. She was still wearing her costume...

  Without another word, she stepped out of her room and stood silently in the hall, staring at the floor. Her palette flickered with fear, anxiety, all with an undercurrent of bone-deep dread. Gallant almost stopped, almost asked her if she remembered something new. He held himself back though, she wasn't in any condition to answer. If it was important, he could trust her to tell him. She had before.

  It was another trip back upstairs, though this time to a much smaller meeting room. He wasn't entirely sure what Legend wanted Amaranth for, or himself for that matter. Nothing had happened in the morning, not that he was aware of. That meant nothing of course, the situation here was changing faster than he could keep up with.

  He paused outside the door marked 'Interview 2', knocking sharply. He heard a command to enter and pushed open the door, gesturing for Amaranth to go ahead and take a seat. Legend sat opposite, beside Ursa Aurora in her bear mask. Gallant sat next to Amaranth, who was staring at the table, aura now firmly fixed on fear and anxiety. Meeting your heroes could be scary, sure, but it seemed way out of proportion.

  “Good afternoon,” Legend greeted them with a warm smile, his tone good-natured. “My name is Legend, it's nice to meet you Amaranth.” She nodded once, a fractional move of her head. “May I ask how you're feeling?”

  “Bad,” she replied, instantly and quietly.

  “I'm sorry to hear,” Legend replied when she didn't elaborate. “I know things have been incredibly difficult here lately, even more for a new Ward like you. Can I help in any way?”

  For the first time today, Amaranth raised her head. She stared silently at Legend, palette pulsing with a dozen rapid-fire emotions before settling on a despondent midnight blue; remembering something? She lowered her head and shut her eyes.

  “No,” Amaranth whispered.

  “I'm sorry.” There was a beat of silence. “I would like to ask you some questions, and while I understand they may be hard to answer it's important you try. Is that alright?” A shrug from Amaranth. “First, are you injured?” She shook her head briefly. “I'm glad to hear. Now I know you survived an attack by Jack Slash just yesterday.” A flinch. “Do you know why he attacked you?” The despondent blue was replaced by ugly guilt. Her lips parted and a breath escaped. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear that.”

  “Me.”

  The tension in the room rose as Amaranth confirmed what Gallant had posited: she was Jack's candidate. Ursa Aurora's head moved slightly as she glanced at Legend, but she didn't otherwise beyond a note of aggressive caution in her palette. Legend's smile had flipped entirely, he didn't seem happy with the news.

  “He nominated you?” A single nod. “I'm so sorry, Amaranth. Understand that the Nine, especially Jack, enjoying breaking people. You're not a bad person because you were targeted, you're a victim. Do you understand?” A shrug, and more hideous guilt, and a sigh from Legend. “With that being said, there's more.

  “Fenrir's Chosen contacted us today,” he continued, getting another flinch and more guilt out of Amaranth. Gallant wished he could do something. “Apparently they were also attacked by the Nine and are calling a meeting to discuss what to do about their presence. Truce rules, but it is Hookwolf's gang. That they invited us is odd, but welcome quite frankly. I want the four of us there representing the Protectorate.”

  “Sir,” Gallant said, wincing when Legend turned to face him. “Respectfully, I don't think Amaranth should go.”

  “She's a capable Ward,” Ursa countered. “And she's encountered the Nine before, her presence is valuable.”

  “Among her other abilities,” Legend finished, glancing down at Amaranth. “What do you think, Amaranth?” She was quiet for a moment, palette a war of emotion before slowly greying out, then shrugged.

  “Fine,” she said flatly. “I'll go.”

  “Are you sure?” Legend asked. “It's under Truce conditions but I can't guarantee--”

  “It's fine,” she said, a bit more terse. A whopper of a lie.

  “Alright,” he replied, taking her at her word. Gallant's estimation of the man was declining rapidly. “It's late tonight, so go get some rest. Both of you will be off the patrol schedule today, obviously, but do not speak to anyone about this. Is that understood?” Both Wards nodded. “Good, dismissed.”

  Gallant rose, along with Amaranth a moment later. He led the way, holding the door for Amaranth, then shutting it behind them. They walked silently back to the elevator, slowly too. Gallant was still a little tired, but Amaranth seemed utterly exhausted. Her feet shuffled along the linoleum, dragging like anchors. Finally though, they began descending.

  This was, well he couldn't really call it anything else but shit. Yes, the man himself Legend was here in Brockton Bay, practically leading the Protectorate himself now. He was, as Gallant had found out, just a man though. He looked at Amaranth, in her bloodstained costume, knowing what happened, and decided she ought to come on a mission.

  He couldn't understand it, hell even Amaranth who had apparently refused Amy's healing before, had said she was doing badly. Did he think she was just exaggerating, that she was just a surly teen that didn't want to be there? Surely not, Legend wasn't stupid. However it happened, it did, and now he had to worry about tonight.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Hey,” Gallant said as they paused outside Amaranth's room. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” She turned and looked up at him, then cast her eyes to the floor and nodded. He checked that the hallway was empty, then took a deep breath. “Look, forget my rank for a sec, forget Gallant, forget Amaranth. Lia, as a friend, are you really okay with this?” A long, heavy pause dragged on for far too long. Finally, she took a breath.

  “Yeah.” There was some kind of resolution in her tone, but she wasn't feeling anything like that. “I am.” Gallant sighed and put a hand on her shoulder, gently.

  “Okay,” he replied quietly. “If...if you ever need to talk...”

  She nodded once, then turned and went into her room. Gallant sighed and headed back the way he'd come. He wasn't sure if he'd helped or not, but he had tried, and that was all he could do.

  It just wasn't enough...

  “We're here,” Legend muttered quietly as the car pulled to the side of the road.

  The four heroes piled out of the little thing, an attempt to keep their presence quiet. Announcing the PRT's imminent arrival to a meeting mostly composed of villains had seemed a bad idea. Gallant joined Legend at the trunk and retrieved a folding boat and small motor. They carried them down to the water's edge and he helped putting it all together.

  He glanced up and saw Amaranth staring out at the Crater Lake, palette awash with intense, vivid fear. Phobia came to mind unbidden, but she was probably just reminded of her first day out. When Legend called her over to join them in the boat, she hesitated as the colours in her palette peaked, then died away into greyish apathy.

  They clambered in, Amaranth a little more unsteady than everyone else. Gallant reached out to help, but she refused his hand, nearly falling instead. She managed though, sitting next to him and gripping the bench tight enough he saw the plastic warping. He retracted the visor shielding his lower face and gently nudged her shoulder. Gallant offered a smile when she looked, which only raised a note of guilt before it vanished again.

  The engine burbled silently and they began to slowly cross the lake. Gallant glanced over the edge of the boat into the depths below. Despite the gloom, he felt he could see the crumbled skeletons of toppled skyscrapers below. An ugly portent? He sure as hell hoped not.

  The engine stopped and they coasted to a halt, not far from a building that still poked above the water. Gallant spared a look around the lake, mildly confused. In the distance, he could hear the quiet murmur of other engines on the lake, villains joining the meeting presumably. Flashes of light appeared above the building, sometimes echoed by responding lights from the water.

  He started as a boat suddenly burst into light and sound passing by them. Aboard he could see Skidmark and Squealer, and the craft was probably hers judging by the style...or lack thereof. It shut up as it approached the building, and even from here Gallant could hear the sounds of an angry exchange. Three orange flashes appeared, and Ursa Aurora hefted a large flashlight and flicked it on and off a few times in answer. The engine started and they made their approach.

  Amaranth was the first out, scrambling from the boat onto the building before Gallant even stood up. The fear in her palette peaked, then was muted once more. The rest of them exited the boat, which Ursa pulled onto the 'shore' using her bears. He wasn't sure what else to call them, they didn't exactly look like bears, but she was literally called 'Bear Dawn' so...

  They climbed into the remains of the structure, joining the already gathered villains there. He saw Hookwolf and his Nazi friends sitting above them, the highest point, and tried not to roll his eyes. Purity descended, adding a bit of a glow that let him see the Undersiders, Travelers, Merchants, and even Coil. Faultline's crew stood off to the side, their Case 53 members standing out. Legend strode right into the center of them, drawing every eye in the building.

  “We have a problem,” he said gravely.

  “Yeah,” Hookwolf replied, crossing his arms. “Two, actually.”

  “Two?” Purity asked, cocked her head. Hookwolf pointed at the Travelers, then the Undersiders.

  “They're being cocky, think they take ground while—”

  “Enough,” Legend barked, silencing the Nazi thug. “We're not here to deal with your infantile squabbles over territory that you'll lose to us one day.” Gallant saw most villains in the room bristle, though Coil seemed entirely at ease, if anxious. “We're here to deal with the Nine, you'll be dealt with later.”

  “You stupid faggot,” Hookwolf snarled. “They're not taking territory, they're taking the city. Parceling it out between themselves, working together while the rest of us are getting picked apart by the Nine. They're using this.”

  “They're what?” Purity demanded, glaring at the Travelers.

  “The Nine weren't a factor when we set this in motion,” Trickster said evenly.

  “So you were--”

  “Enough!” Legend bellowed, loud enough to echo off the water. His palette was red and growing darker. “This petty bickering is wasting everyone's time. We need to focus on the Slaughterhouse Nine, not some pathetic rivalry between gangsters.”

  “I would tend to agree,” Coil added a moment later, the first to speak after Legend. “I have come into possession of information suggesting dire consequences, should Jack Slash be allowed to leave Brockton Bay.”

  “That's fuckin' cryptic,” Skidmark complained, spitting loudly on the ground.

  “Then let me be clearer,” he said, voice cold. “Should Jack Slash escape Brockton Bay, it's likely the world will end within a few years.”

  The gathering was silenced in an instant. All around, he saw the palettes surrounding peoples' heads flickering with fear, anxiety, despair, and apocalyptic dread. Some were in disbelief, others shivering in anticipation. For his part, Gallant didn't have the faintest clue what to make of it. Jack Slash, ending the world? Sure he was dangerous, but that was ridiculous. At the same time, he'd heard portents of doom that came awfully true and knew it was possible.

  And that was terrifying.

  “Then he cannot be allowed to leave this city alive,” Legend pronounced grimly. He glared at Hookwolf, vivid disgust colouring his palette. “I think you'll all agree, the end of the world is slightly more important that claims over cracked streets and ruined buildings.” Hookwolf's lips curled in a disgusted grimace of his own.

  “Not workin' with your ass til we sort this,” he growled, rising from his seat.

  “Then you're not 'workin' with my ass',” Legend spat back. “And I'll make sure Fenrir's Chosen are first on my list of priorities, once the Nine are destroyed.”

  Gallant turned his attention from the argument, it wasn't going anywhere and he could literally see neither man was going to agree with the other. Not that Legend should give an inch here, he was entirely right. His opponent was convinced of the same though, an unstoppable force against an immovable object. Fruitless. Almost on a whim, he checked over his shoulder, thinking about 'immovable objects'. She wasn't one but--

  Where was Amaranth? Gallant whirled, head snapping around, but saw nothing besides an empty hallway. He ran into it, casting his gaze up and down. Still empty, but he saw a cracked sign pointing towards a staircase at one end. He remembered, without prompting, the oil-slick black of Amaranth's palette, the suicidal urge that had almost become her new throughline.

  Ignoring a sharply hissed question from Ursa Aurora, Gallant sprinted towards the stairs. The door was ajar, and he didn't process what that could mean before he barrelled through it and took them two at a time, heading up. In the dust that had accumulated since the last rain, he saw small footsteps that paralleled his.

  “Amaranth!” He bellowed, throat aching. “Amaranth!”

  There was no response, and the footsteps kept climbing. He did too, even as his legs began to burn. If he could see his own aura, he knew it would be a tarnished rose-gold, fearing as he was for Amaranth. Above him, he heard the quiet scrape of a foot on concrete. Gallant took the steps three at a time, he wouldn't stop, couldn't stop. He rounded the final flight and saw a flash of the pinkish-purple costume contrasting a palette that looked more like an oil spill. Then it was gone.

  “Lia!” Gallant screamed, hitting the wall to stop so he didn't go out the shattered, tenth storey window.

  He heard a loud, distant 'splash'.