Lira looked at the screen with a sense of satisfaction … she had found them.

  The paladin’s high tech armor maintained 360 degree audiovisual records of nearly everything. Every encounter detailed and 3d rendered so that every battle could be recalculated for more efficiency, or in this case she could simply learn what the hell had happened between her mother and Foster. For security the records were off-line, stored in a secure vault beneath her mother’s estate.

  Alexander Foster - Sealed Files - 67, 78, 84, 97

  She over-rode the seal with her command rights and selected the first.

  She heard the faint buzz of a holo-projector humming to life on the steel table before her. Her mirrored helm rested beside it, reflecting the grainy blue glow of the recording, leaving her face exposed—pale, sharp-featured, eyes wide and dark as she stared at the past unfolding.

  The holo flickered to life, projecting a younger Foster in a similar hospital room, if a somewhat less rugged bed and a somewhat less rugged Foster. It was years prior and the room was a stark precursor to his current one. His chest and arms were swathed in regen-gel bandages, glistening wetly under the LED lights, the skin beneath raw and blistered from burns that traced jagged paths all across his chest and arms. Tubes snaked into his veins, pumping something that glowed into his thin frame. His eyes—hollow, red-rimmed—stared at the ceiling, shock dulling their edge, though a stubborn spark flickered deep within.

  He looked less angry then. More vulnerable.

  Across from him stood Eryn Kael, the original Platinum Paladin, before the accident - still in her prime. Her armor gleamed pristine, unscarred, a silver monolith amidst the room’s white. Her helm was off, tucked under one arm, revealing a face like carved stone—high cheekbones, a tight jaw, dark hair pulled into a flawless braid. Her voice, unfiltered by the suit, was still steel wrapped in ice, each word precise and cutting. She loomed over the bed, hands clasped behind her back, her stance radiating authority—and disdain.

  “Listen to me, Foster,” Eryn began, her tone flat but heavy, like a verdict handed down. “You dragged Katey to safety—half-dead, burning but alive and you saved her. She probably owes you her life. This city owes you for that. She’s triggered too young and is suffering Ascension sickness, but she will recover. So… I’m sorry to have to tell you this but there’s no future where you two will end up together.”

  Foster blinked slowly, wincing as he shifted, the bandages crinkling. His voice rasped out, hoarse from pain, but steady. “She’s still Katey. I got her here—she’s alive. That’s what matters.”

  Eryn’s lips thinned, a faint sneer curling the edge. She stepped closer, boots clicking on the tile, the armor’s micro-joints whirring faintly. “You’re not hearing me. She’s not ‘still Katey’—not the way you want. She’s not the girl you remember. Her body is literally flaming and the bio-med scanners are pegging her as a newly ascended potential future S class, and…” The Paladin paused, looking off for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued. “You… you are a chain around her neck—someone she’ll have to protect, or mourn when you inevitably get hurt -”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  Eryn paused biting back the next words, then continued slowly. “The two of you could be… hugging let’s say, and if she loses concentration even for just a moment, you’d be dust in the wind. I don’t think you can imagine what that would do to her - so if you care about her - just leave her alone. When she’s older and she’s mastered her powers… if she even still remembers you, maybe there could be something - but I’d rather you give up any false hope now. You will be in different worlds.”

  Foster’s hands clenched, trembling. The regen-gel glistened as his burns flexed, a hiss of pain escaping his teeth. “That’s not your call,” he snapped, eyes locking onto hers, defiance flaring through the shock. “It’s hers. I’m not abandoning her because you think I’m weak. She decides—not you, not me.”

  “Congratulations you’re not weak-willed… but you are undeniably weak. I could kill you in a second and so could any villain, even a bottom tier trash villain could make his name that way.” Eryn didn’t flinch, her gaze cold and unyielding. “Sentiment Is a luxury we simply can’t afford when the world is at stake. Know that she’ll outgrow you—or you’ll die trying to keep up. I’ve seen it—normals clinging to triggered Supers. It always ends tragically. She’ll thank you later when she’s not burying you.” She turned slightly, armor catching the light, throwing sharp reflections across the walls. “End it with her. For her sake.”

  Foster’s jaw tightened, his breath ragged but firm. “No. If she wants me gone, she’ll say it. I’m not running—not from her, and not from you.”

  Eryn exhaled sharply through her nose, a sound of pure exasperation. “Your funeral, then, literally more than likely. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She slid her helm back on, the mirrored surface snapping into place, erasing her face. Without another word, she strode out, the door hissing shut behind her, leaving Foster alone with the hum of the monitor and the weight of his burns.

  The holo flickered out, static swallowing the scene. Lira sat frozen, her breath shallow, hands gripping the table’s edge. Foster and the Phoenix! She’s the only S class fire super in the city - that’s insane… He saved her—carried her through fire? No carried her when she was on-fire! —and Mom crushed him for it because he was a just a normie. No wonder he hates me—her. Did he lose her anyway? He must have…she’s dating Dark-Star now…. Dark-Star’s such a creepy ass. Her stomach twisted, not for the first time horrified by the weight of her mother’s legacy, it was often heavier than the armor.

  Curious, she hesitantly selected the next file.

  The timestamp read three months after Foster’s hospital stay. The scene unfolded in a dimly lit backroom of an PRU precinct, all concrete walls and flickering sodium lights, the air thick with the hum of overworked Aether shield generators, probably somewhere near the wall then...

  Eryn Kael, the Platinum Paladin, stood center-frame, her silver armor gleaming even in the low light. Across from her slouched a woman in a threadbare jacket, her features shifting subtly—nose lengthening, then shortening, hair rippling from blonde to brown and back—like water refusing to settle. Eyes a different color every breath she took. The shifter, identified by a flickering subtitle as “Nyx Rodriguez, Alias: Mirage,” fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves, her posture all coiled tension. A holo-tablet on the table between them glowed with her rap sheet: identity theft and actual theft. It looked like she tried to empty someone’s accounts out - and got caught. She wouldn’t be the first shifter to uner-estimate the security at the higher end banks.

  Eryn’s voice cut through the static, low and precise, each word a hammer strike. “You’ve got a choice, Nyx. Three years in a containment cell— or you do one job for me. Clean slate after. Placement with a minor Super team is also on the table. No messy questions about your past, none of that is she a super or is she a mutant you’ve had to deal with from the bigots, just a bright clear future.”

  Nyx’s eyes flicked up, narrowing as her face settled into a sharp, angular version—cheekbones high, lips thin. Her voice came out rough, edged with defiance but a trace of hope. “What’s the catch?”

  “There’s always a price for anything, but the rewards will be ample as well,” Eryn replied, stepping closer, boots clicking on the concrete. Her armor’s blue circuitry pulsed faintly, casting eerie shadows. She placed a vial of blue liquid on the table. “This is new, a stabilizer newly created, it will let you hold your form longer. We’re working on getting it into pill form very soon to help people like you. You can have them, as many as you want - and your freedom. In exchange… there’s a minor nuisance —Alexander Foster. Back in the L-district of the city - he’s in remedial classes after he flunked out of his regular curriculum. His girlfriend triggered and he’s clinging to her like a leech. You’re going to end it.”

  Nyx leaned back, crossing her arms, “End it? I’m not a hitman. I’m not going to kill some kid-”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t want him dead, that would cause even more problems.” Eryn’s lips twitched, not quite a smile—more a baring of teeth. “Look, you are a half decent metamorph. Use that. Get close to him, become - whatever it is he likes—get as close as it takes. His current girlfriend just needs to see him with someone else. Make it messy, public. Ideally fuck his brains out the moment you can — just make sure his soon to be ex catches you when you do, or even better make a recording. Do it in public and then make it public… be imaginative.”

  Sodium lights buzzed overhead, throwing Nyx’s face into stark relief as it morphed again—eyes widening, then narrowing, a flush creeping up her neck. She shoved the holo-tablet away, its glow skittering across the table. “You’re sick. I won’t be your whore.”

  Eryn didn’t flinch, setting her helm down with a deliberate clank that echoed in the small room. “You’re a soon to be felon with no cards left. Refuse, and I log your file as ‘uncooperative.’ Containment Isn't easy on your kind—dampeners might kick on and leave you stuck mid-shift, I’ve heard the screaming when that happens, it’s like torture isn’t it? Not quite one thing or another… Do it, and this—” she tapped the tablet, the rap sheet flickering to black —“disappears. One small job and you have earned your freedom.”

  Nyx’s hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms, her form rippling—skin darkening, then paling, unable to hold steady. The chair creaked as she shifted her weight, glaring at Eryn’s impassive face. “You’re supposed to be a hero!”

  “I am a hero. Sometimes we have to make hard calls, ending this now - while it’s harmless puppy love will be painful for both of them - but worth it for this city. The girl is a potential class S. Have you ever seen a class S absolutely lose their shit? Do you know how many people can - No… I’m not going to explain myself to you.” Eryn said, voice flat as she retrieved her helm, sliding it back on with a hiss of seals locking. The mirrored surface reflected Nyx’s distorted scowl. “You start tomorrow. Foster’s in Remedial C-12, I’ll have them get you into his classes. I’ll have someone helping you from another angle. Do not screw this up. It is truly your one and only chance.” She turned and started to walk away, armor glinting as she strode out, but the omni-directional recording caught it as Nyx stayed seated, staring at the blank tablet and her features settled into something softer—rounder cheeks, tired eyes—before burying her face in her hands and quietly sobbing. The recording cut to static.

  Lira’s breath caught, her knuckles whitening on the table’s edge. The holo-projector’s hum filled the silence as her wide eyes stared at the blank air where her mother’s image had been. Her fingers trembled, brushing her helmet beside her, the silver cold and accusing. Her hand crept forward, trembling as she clicked the next file.

  “You’re a mess, Foster,” Eryn said, voice low and clipped, each word deliberate. “I heard about the public breakup—Katey screaming at you... Half the school watching… Is it true you cried? How tragic. I’d leave that school if I were you, you’re never going to recover your reputation there now.”

  Foster’s jaw tightened, fingers curling into fists on the table. “You did something,” he rasped, voice rough but quiet.

  Eryn’s lips twitched, not quite a sneer. “Don’t blame me for your teenage breakup melodrama kid, I have far more important matters on my plate.”

  “Then why would you even know about it, and why take this meeting.” He leaned forward, eyes flashing, pain and defiance warring in them. “I’m not here to grovel for my ex-girlfriend back from you. I want something else.”

  “The two of you aren’t together anymore so… “ Eryn arched a brow, armor whirring faintly as she shifted her weight. “You’re in no position to bargain.”

  “I suspect I am, now. Katey didn’t believe me when I told her I hadn’t cheated on her… and that hurt… but she’s made her choice and I’ll respect it. My bargain with you is one for information. Any time a new S class comes along - every team in every Spire in the City makes a play to get them on their team. I couldn’t help but notice the continuing conspicuous silence. I suspect you want to keep things that way for at least a little while longer. No doubt you’ve already got a line prepared as for why - some bullshit about the greater good right?”

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  “Hilarious that you think you can bargain with someone that could crush you with one hand. I’m actually amused.”

  “I am too. I think it’s hilarious that anyone thinks you’re a Hero. Deposited Inner City Data-mail on a deadman’s switch, with details of this meeting, don’t threaten me over a trivial request on my end. All I want is expedition 67,” Foster said, voice steadying, though his hands still shook slightly. “They notified me at school that the team has been classified a total loss. My aunt… Kara. She’s out there, Beyond the Wall. Send a retrieval team. Get her back—or get me the proof if she’s really gone. I’ll transfer schools like you wanted. Just do that much.”

  Eryn studied him, her gaze dissecting—cold, calculating. The room’s hum filled the silence, the bulb flickering like it was holding its breath. Finally, she nodded, a single, crisp motion. “Western Expedition 67 is lost to the forest, written off. But if it’ll shut you up… fine. I’ll authorize a data retrieval mission. Standard protocol— beyond the Wall recon, Aether suits and a small team. If she’s alive, we’ll find her. If not, which is almost certainly the case - you get your closure. In return, you’re gone—new school, outer rim, near the Wall where there’s no tele-casts. Don’t contact Katey, you want to know how she’s doing, just watch the news. She’s going to be big. Do we have a deal?”

  Foster looked down at a small photo, that he slid into his shirt pocket. “Deal,” he muttered,. “Just… keep your word.”

  Eryn slid her helm back on, the mirrored surface snapping into place, erasing her face. “I always do,” she said, voice metallic now, echoing faintly.

  Lira stared at the last unwatched file for a long time.

  Foster’s sealed files had already gutted her—Eryn’s ruthlessness with Katey and Nyx, breaking Foster and his girlfriend up to “save” them from what? A teenage romance? It was ridiculous… But his rage in the Super Ward hinted at more, and the vault held the key so she reluctantly clicked the final file.

  A command bunker materialized—concrete, chaotic, large screens pulsing red with Expedition 67’s coordinates. Eryn Kael loomed at the holo-table, armor pristine, helm off, braid tight. Technicians scrambled, voices sharp with excitement.

  “We call you in because they actually found them! The data retrieval team's distress beacon’s has gone live, we’re getting some telemetry and some minimal communication - they’ve been riding out the aether storms and the beast tides in a cave system,” one of the techs exclaimed.

  “They’re still alive? After all this time.” Eryn was genuinely surprised.

  “They are nearing their limits— it’s a minor beast tide out there, but if we send a full contingent - we can recover them! This will be a big win.”

  Eryn’s eyes locked on the map, unblinking. “Casualties?”

  “Eighteen already dead,” an officer replied, voice strained. “twelve still active, including Dr. Kara Smith —their survey lead. If we launch now—”

  “No retrieval,” Eryn cut in, voice flat, final. The room froze, eyes snapping to her.

  The tech stammered, “Ma’am?”

  “No retrieval,” she repeated, gauntlet tapping the table with a clank. “Expedition 67 was a gamble filled with underfunded idealists. A beast-tide’s gathering now. We send a full team, we may well lose a full team—or worse they draw that tide back to the Wall as they flee, and with our powerhouses loaned out to Seacoast City for their suppression efforts we don’t have enough Supers on hand for even a partial beast tide now.”

  “But it’s not…” The officer’s fists clenched, voice rising. “She’s one of our leading archeologists. We promised the Science Council—”

  “We promised the Council nothing that balances against this risk,” Eryn shot back, gaze slicing through him. “The City’s on edge. One possible feel good story doesn’t outweigh the risks here. Seal the Wall and … let the forest claim them.”

  The tech’s voice dropped, hollow. “That’s a death sentence.”

  “Being a true hero means making the hard choices.” Eryn turned away. “Survival of everyone in the city trumps sentiment every time. Log it as … distress beacon equipment failure, no survivors. It’s done. The city thanks them for their sacrifice.”

  The feed trembled, static eating the edges as Eryn exited, armor glinting coldly. The timestamp froze, then vanished.

  Lira’s hands gripped the console, metal groaning under her gauntlet’s strength. Her breath came shallow, ragged. Her mind reeled. “He moved to the Wall for this—and she just buried them… he doesn’t even know.. He probably suspects something though….” The vault’s hum swallowed her words. Beyond the Wall so many lay lost—and here, Lira faced a terrible truth - her mother’s promises were lies, and Foster’s rage was her inheritance. She didn’t know what she should do about that.

  ***

  Day 3 - Money and Power

  It was noon and Foster was signing a Settlement and Release Agreement with added confidentiality clauses in exchange for a check that had seven digits on it. He was still pissed but seven digits was more than he was expecting and the hospital lawyers were frighteningly good. A few phone calls to the PRU and suddenly a PRU supervisor had arrived expressing his “extreme regret” at the “unfortunate circumstances” surrounding their prior interactions.

  “We’re reviewing your case, and it looks like there may have been some issues with the way things were handled. We’re taking another look to ensure…” Amidst the monotone rambling Foster couldn’t help himself as he zoned out - mind turning to other matters.

  ‘What now Hedy?’

  What we do now depends on what you want. I suspect we're probably going to be stuck here for a long time - possibly permanently. Try to find something fun to do?

  ‘It's an interesting place, superheroes and vast unexplored territories - I'm just having some difficulty reconciling that my life for the last couple of years has been a lie, a lie I’ve been telling to myself and to everyone else. It all still feels… real.’

  Why do you think you’re still identifying as Foster? You know that wasn’t your name. It was real and it still is. It’s been your neural architecture in the driver's seat ever since we got here - albeit disconnected from the bulk of your memories and constrained by some over-riding impulses to lay low. It was you because there really wasn’t much left from the donor… we were lucky to even recover as many of their memories as we did.

  ‘Even so, fast food Hedy? Really… is that the best I could manage?’

  You lost huge chunks of developmental memory, it made school … difficult. Finding a self supportive career with your educational limitations was actually impressive!

  ‘I was slinging tacos!’

  “-it’s important—vitally important, really—that we approach things with a sense of, shall we say, measured reflection. Because, at the end of the day, what’s done is done, and the most important thing-”

  Well you did seem happy enough in the role.

  Foster coughed, “I’m really not feeling well officer…” He struggled for a moment to remember his name, the man was just so bland he suspected if he tried to describe him later he’d struggle to recall a single defining feature. “... mm, Smith?”

  "Well, alright then. I think we’ve had a, uh, productive little chat here today. Open dialogue is important, after all. Very important. And I certainly appreciate you taking the time to, you know, hear us out and, uh-”

  Foster coughed again, hand reaching up to rub at his wrinkled brow..

  "Alright then. I’ll, uh... let myself out."

  The door hissed shut behind the PRU supervisor—Officer Smith, a beige blur of apologies and platitudes—leaving Foster alone with the sterile hum of the Super Ward room.

  His wrist still ached from the cuffs, now a discarded heap of broken metal in the trash bin beside him, sliced off on Dr. Vex’s order like she’d promised. The settlement check sat heavy in his lap—seven digits typed on crisp paper, a fortune. He could do - anything. He stared at it, the numbers blurring, his free hand rubbing his brow where a headache pulsed like a drumbeat.

  You’ve got resources now—options. We could chase your aunt’s trail like you’ve wanted for the last couple of years, or just… live a little.

  ‘That’s - I’m so frustrated! She isn’t my Aunt, I’m not really me… but I have these memories… so she is, and I am… this is why I never did a co-load before. It gets too damn messy.’

  Yes, you were DNVR and DNCL, but it wasn’t technically a co-load since Foster was … well you remember.

  ‘Damn it, Now I’m not even sure where I start and end…’

  The door hissed again, breaking his thought train. Dr. Mara Vex strode in, her white coat crisp, gray-streaked bun tight as ever. She moved with that same coiled energy—but her obsidian eyes were sharper now, locked on the empty doorway where Smith had walked out moments before. Her jaw tightened, lips pressing into a thin line, a glare flickering across her face—brief, but loaded. Like she’d caught a whiff of something rotten.

  Foster caught it, a prickle running up his spine. ‘Hedy, you seeing that?’

  Mara’s gaze swung to Foster, the glare dissolving into that clinical calm she wielded like a scalpel. She crossed her arms, clipboard tucked under one elbow, and planted herself at the bed’s edge. The faint scent of sanitizer trailed her, cutting through the room’s ozone tang. “You’re still here,” she said, voice crisp, no-nonsense. “Good. We need to talk.”

  “You haven’t cleared me to leave yet, so not sure where else I would be.” Foster leaned back, the thin silvery gown crinkling against the reinforced bed. “Though I did think we were done. Your lawyers swooped in, made their calls, and the PRU almost groveled. I already signed the deal. What’s left—more fine print?”

  Mara eyes bored into him. “No new fine print. I’ve been going over your readings—past and present. That serum in your blood isn’t soaking up energy quite as quickly anymore… it’s approaching a plateau and building to something.” She tapped her clipboard, pulling up a holo-projection—jagged red lines spiking across a graph that leveled out.

  ‘Damned other-world inner city tech. I have no idea how any of this works!’ Foster thought back to the computer in his apartment suppressing a sigh. Even if he had tech like this, if he took it with him to the Wall it would become little more than a paperweight without shielding gear that would cost a good chunk of his whole new fortune.

  “This isn't wholly about the serum though that is worrisome… I’ll just cut straight to it - you’re going to trigger. It’s not an if—it’s a when. Could be days, weeks, maybe. But now that the serums not stopping it anymore - it’s coming. You probably won’t end up as a very powerful super. We do know a bit more than we let on and from the readings you’re just going to barely tip over the critical divide.”

  Foster stared at the graph, the red peaks clawing higher, he wished he had a better idea of what that meant, then looked back at her. “But… even so… I’m definitely going to trigger?”

  Mara nodded, sharp and final. “Yes. The serum was a bastardized mess—meant to mimic the Primarion’s formulae but done cheaper, sloppier. It didn’t augment you then because it couldn’t —it needed a catalyst which was deemed far too expensive. Instead it’s been passively soaking up energy for years. Frankly this is opening up a whole new avenue of Power’s research - we have children that trigger early every year and end up debilitated by Ascension sickness - maybe with the right modification this serum could prevent that… but as for you…now that it’s reached its saturation point and can’t delay the process anymore the energies in your body are finally able to build up… and they’ve almost reached the critical tipping point. There are two things happening to you medically of interest, one is the formula is activating and it's going to do something hopefully you won’t explode or spontaneously combust. The hospital will pay you quite well for a post-trigger lab workup - if you survive. The other is simply that you are on the threshold of triggering. They could have synergistic effects… or they might impair one another. You would honestly be safer staying in one of these rooms for the next few weeks… but I’m not going to imprison you here. Instead I strongly suggest you check in if you feel anything is amiss. I know your home zone is far out towards the city's edge but we have the means to get to you quickly.”

  Foster’s hand clenched, knuckles whitening against the bedrail. ‘Hedy, is she right? Will I need to order some spandex, or is this some psy-op mindfuckery bullshit?’

  I don’t know - again the super-physics of this world elude me - and we haven’t exactly been studying the theory - but she’s probably not wrong, there’s definitely an unknown energy buildup in the cells I can access. I just thought it was caused by us. Hedy cut in, her tone shifting—less playful, more cautious.

  He swallowed hard. “So any hints on what I could expect?”

  Mara shrugged, a tight, controlled motion. “Triggers are wildcards, speculation is that it’s impacted by your subconscious and it is confirmed that your environment has some impact— it could be physical, mental, elemental, or even meta-physical. All I can tell you is that it’s coming and that’s more warning than most get. When it does you’ll have to register—full disclosure, power classification, the works. That or leave the city.”

  Foster’s laugh was bitter, scraping the air. More PRU bullshit. He shook his head. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Mara’s lips twitched, not quite a smile—more a grimace of resolve. She stepped closer, voice dropping low, edged with something - other. “I know the hospital screwed you over once. I’m trying to balance things out as much as I can. Money, information, advice if you want it… You’ve now got a head start, you can plan for what to do—use it. That check gives you room to run, hide, or fight. But when you do trigger...” She pointed at the various readings on the screens, “there’s devices like these at every transition point between every monitored section of the city, inner to outer. Almost all supers emit a trackable level of radiation - so - there’s just no point in trying to hide it. May as well tell you and spare you the trouble of trying.”

  Foster’s eyes narrowed, flicking to the door where Smith walked out. The PRU from what he’d seen of them did not inspire confidence.

  “I’m clearing you tomorrow—physically, you’re stable. Mentally? Well-” She shrugged, “We live in a city filled with demi-gods that play dress-up and surrounded by monsters, all things considered you’re probably fine.” She placed a card down on the table, “You can call me if your Ascension doesn’t go well. The hospital will do what it can. Think of it like a punch card though and we're going to punch that card a couple of times at most to level our debt with you - then we’re even. So don't waste my time on frivolous things.” She turned, hospital shoes whisper quiet as she moved toward the door, but paused, glancing back. “I wouldn’t stress too much about the impending trigger, ninety percent end up as F ranks, then your life won’t really change much at all.”

  Foster exhaled, long and slow, “O.k. thanks for the heads up Doc.”