Chapter II: Gravity

[IamLEAM1983]

"I would be delighted to, Lady Sophia," replied Bagley.

The camera rotated towards Anastasius. "You may begin, Your Eminence. I have sensed the integration apparatus and have assumed control."

As a confirmation, what looked like a rather sleek recharging station in the back whirred to life, lights flicking on. One side served as an operations terminal, the LED screen displaying the results of the initial systems check. A few seconds later, the interface displayed a new message, saying it was ready for the ethereal packet - Bagley's soul - to be pre-loaded inside the insertion pod.


"Once I have uploaded myself to the transfer station, milord, the process becomes irreversible. Should you wish to recover some of my previous abilities, you will require extensive upgrades to the manor's electrical systems. The current cameras will become useless."

Archie nodded. "Proceed as planned, Bagley. It's high time the old girl stepped into this new century.
- Well spoken, milord. Beginning pre-load process. Your Eminence - at your leisure."

Anastasius rifled through the receipt's several pages, finally coming across what he'd been looking for. "Diagnostics," he said. "Network settings: HH, password encryption is WPS. Code is Canterbury Zero Zero Zero-One."

Three rolled his eyes. "Archie figured out how the router works," he explained to his sister. "He thought our secure partial hexadecimal password was too hard to remember, and changed it for something you could find on his Wikipedia page. Real spy, right there."

Sarah smirked at Crystal. "Regular James Bond.
- Oh, come on, how was I supposed to remember something like 3e4a5fal0ys1us45?" replied the Clank.

"Oh, I don't know, write it down and keep the paper safe, maybe?" replied Drake, still smirking.

Gesturing for silence, Anastasius then cleared his throat. "Diagnostics. Search for integration protocol updates."

The armature's eyes opened, but they didn't focus on anything. Instead, a deep light at the core of the optics began to softly pulse. "Updates found. Downloading updates."


A few seconds passed. "Updates installed.
- Select integration protocol. Alkaev Bridge."

A few seconds more. "One matching update found. Running protocols now."

Immediately, the armature seemed to spring to life on its own. Knees slightly buckling, it turned around, seemingly scanning the room for something. Zeroing in on the integration pod, it walked towards it with the kind of gait Bagley would've never displayed in life. Too loose and yet, too artificial as well. It spun around in front of the pod and entered it by walking backwards, always facing the group.

"Transit complete. Connection established. Handshaking with host."

More time. Archie kept one hand close to his lips, as if he were about to nibble on the tips of his gloves out of nervousness.

"Data packet received. Verifying checksum... Checksum valid. Ethereal data is intact and ready for integration. Integration begins in ten seconds. The armature will reboot once integration is complete. Refer to manual if optics flash yellow or red."

The lights in the optics dimmed and the head hung slightly, something in the back snapping into place at the exact moment of the knees' giving way. The entire armature went slack, only supported by that unseen back clamp. The screen next to the pod then took over, showing a rapidly increasing progress bar. Once it was full, it shifted to a new message.

Placing main CPU in REM mode and beginning awakening procedures. Subject will awaken in five minutes.

In the pod, Bagley's feet shifted slightly and an arm twitched. His hanging head slowly rose while remaining angled down, his chest moving in unison. He was snoring, the sounds low and soft. For a few minutes, he exhibited the limited and uncoordinated movements of a dreaming person, looking as though he was trying to walk. If it hadn't been for that back clamp, chances were he'd have slumped to the bottom of the pod. In the meantime, Three had the presence of mind to grab the towel and go stand nearby.

As expected, he stopped moving after five minutes. His snores grew ever more shallow, until all that was left was the sound of deep breaths.

Then, slowly, as if he'd been placed under, his eyelids opened and his facial features truly came to life for the first time. A ridge above his eye sockets seemingly popped out and pushed itself upwards, after which it split in two. His Apple Eyebrows, if you could've called them that, furrowed. He gave the group a slightly foggy and surprised glance, but not before looking down on himself.

"It... would seem modesty is not an in-built feature of this armature, mister Drake. Might I presume this is why you are holding this towel?
- You may presume correctly," replied the soldier. "Robot dongs need not apply. There's a divider over there, we've hung some clothes out for you."

Bagley took the towel and cinched it around his waist, careful not to reveal anything in the process. "Dong," he replied. "According to your Internet, this is but one of many epithets for the male organ."'

Three scoffed. "Welcome to the Web, Bagley. You're screwed. The next step is cat pictures and memes.
- How delightful," dryly noted the big android, on a tone that conveyed the clearest lack of interest imaginable. That done, he settled with keeping a hand on his towel's knot and gestured vaguely with the other.

"Well... Here I am. At your service, pending a change of clothes..."

* * *

"As well it should," agreed George. "Be safe, my friend."

With that, Meris was back in her apartment, the dummy closet between their two personal spaces restored. She should've been alone at this point, but then again, the aging Void Weaver in the beige slacks, white shirt and straw fedora wasn't really there, either. Being freed from the constraints of aging, Delmar had remained exactly the same throughout the centuries, exactly as stored in her corner of the Darkhallow. He'd elected to project himself into one of her chairs in the living room, cross-legged, seemingly reading a book that she'd left on the coffee table.

Of course, her book was still there, but she'd consented to a bit of realism-sustaining trickery when she'd taken him in.

"It'll be nice to go out," he said, "I haven't seen you pay any mind to any tourist traps in over sixty years, Meris! I still can't believe you didn't go for a trek in the Himalayas, after taking down that Nepalese cell. A selkie takes down a collaborating government instituted by Void Weaver interests in a province in Nepal, and she refuses to visit the Himalayas.

Do you know what that hypothetical headline says? It says you need a break."

[TennyoCeres84]

The dryad scoffed lightly and smiled. "Welcome back, Bagley," she murmured. Sophia then took the clothes off of the divider and handed them to the new android.

***

"I had-" the roane started, then smiling sadly. "You're quite right, Delmar. I've become too much of a workaholic over the years. Looking over my shoulder and avoiding fun in order to stay away perceived threats. I really do hope things are coming to an end and I can enjoy life fully again. Perhaps with Nereus, perhaps not. I might even have other friends I can trust," she responded as grabbed her coat.

[IamLEAM1983]

"Thank you, milady," he replied, accepting the bundle of clothes from her. "It's good to be back."

Three waited for the android to slip behind the divider before speaking again. "So, how does it feel? Your whole post-determinism thing, I mean. Having a fixed identity."

Fabric could be heard being shucked on, and the group couldn't see much more than the top of the android's head and the errant hand. "Limiting, I should say. I had become used to thinking of the mansion as my body and I remember what reaching out to the reading rooms or the boudoirs felt like. It feels as though someone has amputated me of amorphous and flexible masses. They were undefined and limited in their purpose, but they could reach far and wide. Like a dryad's roots, in essence. However, I had lost myself in this sense of raw potential; the knowledge that I could inhabit the very creases of the coffered ceilings or peek through the glass eyes of those mounted animal heads in the Huntsman's Room...

Yet, strangely, I welcome this limitation with gratitude. I have muscles and am touching things, even as we speak. My new hands are completing old gestures I believed I'd forgotten. They are reminding me of my love affair with discipline and my attention to small details. I can feel myself... swelling within this armature, spilling through its circuits and servos. On some level I cannot explain, I feel as though the final instrument to this process shall be a mirror. Seeing myself should cement things, I think. It is a strange and familiar suit, for now - and not a skin I could call mine. Some profound association has yet to take place."

Archie cleared his throat uneasily. "I... I can assure you this is normal, Bagley. I needed months to come to grips with myself, as you well know. To understand that I was neither more or less than human; that I simply was. It was that, or I suppose arrogance or self-doubt would have seen me killed.
- The ethics are sound, milord;" agreed the Clank, "but isn't it true that I now am more than human? The specifications of this body were made known to me before the transition. My spine will never tire, my back shall never give out. All affects of tiredness and pain are within my mind, and nowhere else. Should I break the fallacy of pain or exhaustion, then unbridled potential should be mine."

Sarah licked her lips nervously. "These notions are what makes us human. That goes for actual humans, but also for anthros, aliens, Transgenics, transhumans, supernaturals and superhumans... Depersonalization is a real problem, Bagley. I wouldn't consider it a boon you could pursue."

A pair of suspenders was heard snapping into place. "I did not speak of thinking of myself as godly, miss Drake. I've had ample time to spend sifting through the library's books, and have learned more of Eastern philosophies than the Lord has forgotten. Mindfulness is what comes to mind. There is a difference between being fully cognisant of one's abilities and foolishly believing oneself to be the better man. My having more physical potential does not preclude the fact that my education was formal at best. I straightened numbers, set tables, disciplined maids and carried Lord Holden's rifles and rapiers. You are the one who studied slumbering cities, who attempted to crack the codes of ancient civilizations. I could never hope to compete against you, in this regard."

Shoelaces whispered. "The inverse would also hold true. I still keenly remember the cake you dropped, during our informal inauguration party. Had I possessed limbs at the time, I could have held it straight effortlessly. I know where my strengths and weaknesses lie. Only a madman believes himself to be invulnerable."

Three crossed his arms together as he mulled over Bagley's words. "How about active field work? When and how is it okay to use force?" he asked, clearly wishing to test the android's objectivity.

"Never," he initially replied, although his pause was brief. "Sometimes. At all times. It all depends on the type of force you are speaking of. Physically, as little as possible. Psychologically, if and when allies are in obvious distress. The force of discernment, however, is a constant ally.

I am to help you solve problems. To do this, I must observe and listen. Observe and listen to yourselves, to clients of ours, or to potential applicants."

Three nodded. "Okay, so you weren't scrambled out of sorts by this machine, then..."

Bagley scoffed. "Have I passed the Voight-Kampff, mister Drake?"

That left Three speechless for a second, as Bagley tapped his own head with a finger. "Internet connection," he reminded him. "I shall have to compile a list of books and movies I must watch, then. Starting, of course, with Blade Runner."

Stepping around the divider, Maurice Bagley looked at his new and rediscovered friends with a glint in his eyes only Archie and Sophia had serious experience with. He'd shucked on the complete butler's essentials, complete with the tie and tails and the starched white shirt. White gloves covered his hands, emphasizing the curiously affected idle posture of his hands. One had disappeared behind his back, the other was held close to his navel, the fingers idly curling in, as if waiting for a plate to be deposited there. The shape of his Fullerene synthetic muscles was surprisingly organic, giving more texture to his jacket's sleeves. Fully dressed, he actually looked like an overly muscular human with strange proportions, as nothing from the neck down suggested he was an android. Only his head betrayed the illusion, but it did so in a manner that made sense. The top lids of his eyes were partially deployed, giving him false airs of boredom, a bit the way a housecat might keep an aloof expression even as its instincts were fully engaged. That didn't last, however, as if casting his glance across the observatory had satisfied him. A smile soon broke past the calculative frost - more earnest than Archie's and more reserved than Bucky's all at once.

"Oh," he then lightly exclaimed, one hand rising to touch his jaw and lips. "Clean-shaven... That will simply not do. Luckily, these facial plates carry the same alloy as Your Eminence's former court uniform," he noted, nodding at Anastasius.

Bagley's glance grew inward and, somewhere inside, a fan started to whirr a little faster, going up an octave. As that little sound became audible, the plates around his jaws and suggested hairline shimmered, tiny barbs soon poking through the plastic coating. Hair that was essentially made of magnetically repulsed liquid metal grew in a time-lapse fashion, a steely and gray mass growing more defined by the second. Friendly mutton chops that looked like impossibly soft iron wool were soon suggested, and then grew sufficiently defined as to swallow his upper lip entirely. Still, he'd kept the finished product less poofy than the Gaslight Era's extravagant designs, having gone for the recent decades' sleeker re-interpretation of the style.

"Much better," he then said, letting out a satisfied smile.

* * *

"You'll never know if you don't try," agreed Delmar. "I know you don't consciously remember it, but the Darkhallow tells me the back of your mind took Mertown in, when you first arrived. You wondered, maybe for half a second, if Hope had any decent fishing and diving spots - and perhaps a decent pub or restaurant, for later use."

He stood up, putting his book where back where it had, in actuality, always been. "I say we find out. Go back to your roots for a few hours, and maybe find you a new hobby."

Hands in his pockets, he then angled his head to the side. "That and, well, I've been dying for a chance to take up line fishing, but my not being exactly corporeal puts a damper on things... Thank the Architect, I never asked you to start collecting stamps on my behalf!" he joked.

[TennyoCeres84]

Neasa stepped forward, the small shopping bag in her hands. "In a way, this is like your second birthday, so I thought I'd get you something as a means of saying welcome," she explained with a smile. "I hope you like it." Once he would look in it, he would find a forest green Victorian tie with a subtle black paisley design.

"Leave it to Neasa to one-up us during your reawakening," Aislinn scoffed good-naturedly.

***

"Good idea. Thanks for the reminder," Meris said, throwing a light scarf around her neck. She grabbed her small satchel, left her quarters, and ventured down the stairs until she reached the front door. "Perhaps now you can add Mertown to the Darkhallow's version of Hope," she added to Delmar's statements.

[IamLEAM1983]

Bagley seemed slightly surprised by that small act of kindness, while a smile played with the corners of his lips as he opened the gift. "Thank you, miss McConmara. How very thoughtful of you; as I doubt much of my previous wardrobe remains."

Archie shrugged. "We'll use those paychecks of yours intermittently, old chap, and ensure you've enough for every occasion."

Bagley seemed to remember something. "Am I to assume that you would resume your practice of asking me to stand in for you, milord?"

Three was intrigued by this. "You stood in for Archie? What does that mean?
- Some of Lord Holden's contacts or targets had never heard of him before," explained the butler. "Never seen him, either. When his identity ran the risk of being compromised, we switched positions. I momentarily carried Lord Holden's mantle and he wore the tie-and-tails.
- So the aristocrat couldn't be implicated if an accident happened," deduced the soldier, which left the android nodding.

"I suspect this still holds true," deduced Bagley, "unless Milord has found a means to be featured in a gossip collumn."

That, of course, made Archie scoff amusedly. "Oh, but you've missed the absolute worst in televized entertainment, friend. I've had time enough to acquaint myself with today's channel distribution, and came to associate reality shows with the Romans' former fondness for bloodshed and dissent...
- Ugh," added Sarah, "never catch a Honey Boo-Boo rerun if you can help it, Bagley. You'll feel a couple resistors pop in that head of yours, if you do."

Mirth touched the corners of the android's mouth and eyes, his iris-laden optics somehow producing an amused twinkle, even if he kept his tone professional. "I would not wish to impose on you, especially if celebration is the order of the day; but has my office been prepared?
- Your new desk was installed last week," confirmed Anastasius. "Someone from Wyvern came over and installed a comprehensive office suite on your computer, along with time sheet management software and everything required for the issuing of paychecks to be in full respect of the law and entirely painless.
- Were my specifications followed?
- To the letter, Bagley," reassured the Karthian.

This time, it was Sarah who looked a tad confused. "Wait, have you been planning this for a long time?
- Bagley and I spoke in private, last month," explained the alien. "You had all gone out, and he used his connection with the manor's phone lines to contact me, and request a meeting.
- So you really wanted this position," deduced Three, smirking.

Bagley could only shrug at this. "This house was once mine to manage. As its vocation has changed, it seemed fitting I adapt my previous posting to our new requirements."

* * *

"In greater detail, you mean," amended the former head of Respite Point from the back of Meris' head. As ever, when he wished to speak with her without her appearing schizophrenic whilst in the crowd, he manifested as a voice only she could hear. Obviously, all the archmage had to do was think her responses instead of speaking them. However, the modern world came with a few useful allowances, like Bluetooth receivers. With one of those affixed to an ear, Meris could speak aloud to someone who wasn't there without looking like she'd lost her mind.

"I already had a fairly low-resolution portrait of the cove and the island, but I kept it swaddled in fog, over your last few visits. I thought you seeing something that would look like a video game's out-of-bounds terrain would have been a bit jarring. Now's my chance to add some detail to this basic framework."

He remained silent for most of the way across town, happy to leave Meris in the privacy of her own thoughts. As ever, Delmar wasn't exactly as omnipresent as a child's imaginary friend, instead having long since elected to trust the Cantor with her own choices. He'd never been much more than an available helping instance and an occasional visitor, someone who maybe would have been a little more present if he'd been corporeal. As things were, however, it didn't seem prudent to let Meris become too attached with what was essentially a ghost living in her own subconscious.

As she'd reach the bridge leading to Meer Island, Meris would notice how her construct in the Darkhallow and reality still diverged. Odds were Nereus' house would never be built so close to the shore, as the shape of the lots didn't fit. Perpendicular to the bridge was a long and wide boulevard, the inland side lined with cottages; a long succession of wrought-iron spiral staircases connecting duplex and triplex brownstone apartment buildings with the street. Much of the visible doors had little callbacks to their owners' maritime passions, as Green Island's docks tended to serve as more of a marina than a commercial dock. In essence, this was a fairly well-off residential urban area, the boulevard giving access to Chinatown and Sandhill, further up north. Off to her left, she'd see the distant spires of the city's financial district.

Crossing the bridge felt a bit like crossing into another town altogether. The high-density road that connected to it turned into the sort of neatly maintained and scarcely damaged thoroughfare you would've seen in sleepy maritime settlements along the coast. Meer Island had narrow streets and sidewalks, available space being very carefully used.

Going from the direction in which she'd arrived, arriving on the island meant you had to pass through a small commercial zone. Adding to Mertown's self-contained feeling was the presence of a small, if fully-featured convenience store that might have been an old-fashioned general store, a few generations ago. Most of the shops were visibly catered to seafaring types: high fashion was on nobody's mind, and the only local clothier seemed to sell dungarees, raincoats and galoshes, more than anything else.

There were still a few odd ducks, here and there, however: Mertown's second out of three streets housed a small bookstore that doubled as a café, and the street that led directly to the fishing docks and the cannery sported what looked like a decent Celtic pub - more Scottish than Irish, judging by the tartan patterns inside. A lot of the businesses carried the Buck name somewhere on the signage, with only The Old Sea Dog being independently owned. It stood to reason that the modern-day Bucks owned their meagre fortune to the shoals of fish that gathered nearby.

Otherwise, Mertown had the smallest police station in the city to its name, the parking lot housing only a single squad car. Not that this would stay on Meris' mind for too long, as the island was practically buzzing with ambient arcane energy. She'd know enough to understand that Mertown wasn't a Nexus or anything of the sort, but that these emanations had to be the fruit of seasoned practitioners - possibly the entire town's worth. Mertown couldn't have held more than a hundred or so individuals, and if all of them were used to dealing with the Craft in some persuasion, then most of them had to be fairly proficient on their own terms...

It wouldn't take long for Meris to get a vague sense of why the locals seemed so possessed with magical abilities. Nevermind how much of a selkie she was, the passerbys that she'd cross paths with gave her suspicious glances, as if she hadn't been determined to be trustworthy yet. She'd spot quite a few other roanes as well, possibly of a different background than her own Harbor Seal roots. Folks were generally stockier and swarthier than her, even if she'd still occasionally see someone with a comparable gait, webbed fingers of the same overall shape and size. If anything, the humans looked the least amenable - and she'd quickly determine that it was because most of them were actually of some other extraction, covered in a high-detail Veil the likes of which you needed centuries to perfect.

Meris would know this thanks to her own time spent altering her own appearance, as it paid to stalk Void Weavers who expected a dark-haired and pale-skinned woman, and not some artificially-created clear-eyed blonde human. She'd gotten good enough to have a wide palette of potential ethnicities to choose from, this allowing her to vanish into nearly any potential crowd, if need be.

[TennyoCeres84]

"So what does that entail?" Ciaran asked, honestly curious. "Between training and taking cases, how will you administer things now?"

***

Yearning for a taste of Old World alcohol, Meris ventured in the direction of The Old Sea Dog. She noticed the inhabitants sending scrutinizing looks at her and was reminded of the sometimes clannish ways of her old village. While she doubted she would be assaulted, she figured the people had their own reasons for disguising themselves with such elaborate veils. Shrugging this off, she entered the pub.

[IamLEAM1983]

Bagley sent a mutely questioning look to Archie, after which he looked to the champagne flutes. The spy nodded back, which seemed to be confirmation enough for the butler: he could allow himself a drink, which he did while mumbling quick excuses to Sophia and Anastasius, his bulky frame gracefully sliding between them.

"Lord Holden is your commanding officer and mister Drake acts as your on-field captain, as I've been able to ascertain. Unfortunately, it does not behoove any self-respecting and sufficiently tasked C.O. to also prowl the hallways of the police force in search of future recruits or known vigilantes. Milord has enough on his plate without acting as a headhunter of sorts, and this is where I intend to come in, mister McConmara.

All the while, I will burden myself with the formalities associated with your bi-weekly payment and also do my very best to provide an amenable vis-à-vis, should professional or personal concerns need to be voiced. I've a lifetime of experience in the administration of payment accounts and have spent decades offering support to troubled members of the Lord's staff. You will expect your remuneration to be carried out lawfully, I surmise, and you should also expect the occasional rough patch."

He raised an eyebrow. "It is my understanding that you have already seen a client perish."

Three bit his lower lip. "Yeah - that was two weeks ago, almost three. A Mentalist, someone who'd recently come into her powers. She... felt or perceived - I don't know the word for it - but she understood that her husband had been cheating on her for years. Things clicked the way they never had before. She hadn't put the pieces together because he was careful, so superhuman insight was what she'd needed. It just dawned on her, I guess, because she wasn't used to marshaling her ability to deduct things. She wasn't subtle enough."

He sighed. "Her name was Leslie Connors. Thirty-two years old, her entire life in front of her. She confronted the scumbag, levied her evidence, and said she just knew - which wasn't too far from the truth. It's hard to explain when you first start out, or so the Psychosocial Services persons told us.

They were shouting, by the time we got to their address. She knew he'd pull a gun on her, and she thought that her knowing would creep him out, keep him from actually doing it. The thing is, the ability to consciously read facial twitches or shifts in body temperature doesn't make you impervious to bullets. She took three in the chest. I tried to project a forcefield with the Black Speech, to maybe catch one or two of them, but..."

Aidan looked away. Bagley's matter-of-fact expression turned slightly pained. Again, emotion managed to transcend his limited facial features, the big android suggesting compassion with the shifting of a few facial plates. "There was nothing you could have done," he said, to the tone of someone who was attempting to calmly state an obvious fact. "Nevertheless, I've perused the report's electronic version, shortly after Milord saved it to hard disk."

He looked at the group. "You all performed admirably."

* * *

Inside, the pub was like any other watering hole she'd have encountered in the last twenty or so years, whenever she'd stopped in the United Kingdom. It didn't matter if she was in the Orkneys, in the streets of Belfast, Glasgow or London - pubs had a few common fixtures: a love of dark wood essences. some sort of patterned wall covering, and a clear preference for decent lighting, compared to American bars. The last fifty years or so had also added televisions as one of the mainstays of the pub experience, starting with the owner's dingy little black-and-white set to today's 4K monitors. For now, The Old Sea Dog was only perturbed by the hushed tones of the local 24-hour news channel and the clattering sounds of some zit-faced kid who was busy torturing the joystick of the place's single arcade cabinet. It obviously wasn't a focus in the place's management, the yellowed plexiglas panels protecting Mortal Kombat III's faded banner. At best, she'd maybe hear Liu Kang produce his signature Bicycle Kick, with Sub-Zero letting out the expected over-dramatic cry of pain.

The current barflies were easy to stash away into the Lifelong Sailor category, judging by their hushed conversations. Most of them seemed to be career fishermen getting ready for the colder months and their inescapable spate of four to five months of unemployment. If anything, the barman had interesting features - big eyes for his face, and lips that also seemed too long for their own good. A Servitor in human guise, then; an enslaved pawn of the local Finmen. He looked like a cross between Ron Perlman and a pug, as if his eyes would pop out if you were to smack him in the back of the head a little too hard.

In the back, however, was one fairly striking human... Giving him a quick once-over, you could've assumed him to be just like any other old sailor, with faded black slacks and patent leathers that had been worn for so long as to qualify for casual wear. He wore a wool turtleneck in a shade of dark slate and an old captain's formless cap. His jacket, however, wasn't your typical wind-worn sailor's garb, and the golden buttons at the marine-blue sleeves left nothing to the imagination: this was a cop, both the local precinct's captain, judging by his pins, as well as the island's Deputy Chief... As small as the community was, it made sense.

He had the face that went with the garb, old and leathery features stretched over a proud nose, unfashionable mutton chops stubbornly maintained. Something in his eyes would be familiar, however. They were dark, as dark as a seal's and most Harbor Seal selkie eyes. Still, his stein-cradling fingers didn't display the expected webbing. A half-breed, then? A man born human from an alliance between a selkie and a human, who would've inherited of his shapeshifting parent's eyes and nothing else? No - No, there had to be something else...

Delmar spoke in the back of Meris' head. "That has got to be the most convincing Veil I've ever seen, Meris. That man, whoever he is, could beat you at your face-changing game - and you're the best Veil user I've ever seen..."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aislinn frowned pensively; her expression was tinged with frustration. She countered, "One downside of the Tree awakening and the people becoming supes and mages is that the new power easily becomes a crutch. It's easy to make the assumption that having foresight can prevent all kinds of things, but it doesn't. This tragedy could have been prevented if she had just left the bastard. She would still be alive. We could've made it known that new supes can come to us, and we can send them in the right direction. Crime starts with mundane feelings and circumstances, and then they escalate out of control. It might not make every case turn out well, but it's a better option than just saying that we did all could do."

***

Meris chanced a glance toward the man and seated herself on an empty barstool. "Judging by his appearance and the pins on his clothes, I believe that's Seamus McLoch. Sarvin filled me in about him a while back. Mertown's Chief Deputy, and a precinct captain. The McLochs are the result of Western dragons and selkies intermingling. That would explain the impressive Veil skills," she speculated.

[IamLEAM1983]

"We have," protested Three, "it's what the public appearances have been for. The thing is, people are a bit confused by our approach, going by what my father and Nigel are saying. The standard used to be you were anonymous and swooped in whenever you were needed. It led to the nineties' superheroes figuring out small crimes could be excused if they helped to catch bigger criminals. If we didn't schedule meet-ups in high school gymnasiums, chances are we wouldn't even have received our two or three calls for kids who needed coaching or reassurance."

Bagley nodded. "You won't be able to save everybody, or help everyone. What matters is you having taken action as a group, and in full confidence that you did everything that could be done.
- That's the other can of worms," conceded Drake, while biting his lower lip.

The headmaster nodded. "I understand. This confidence is something that shall need to be worked on," he said, looking back to Aislinn. "If you intend to question your or your teammates' actions at every turn, you will be unable to handle the coming years' emotional toll."

He looked back to the others. "Remind yourselves that you only have so much control over this city. You are its custodians, not its unchallenged masters. You must be able to return to your homes and be who you were, prior to this beginning. A soldier, a budding store owner, a dockhand - among other realities. Being a superhero who handles a tattooing gun, on the other hand, will consume you."

Archie nodded. "Keep a certain form of detachment towards what you do here. As friendly and amenable as we might be, neither Bagley or myself would forgive ourselves if we caused you to stay awake at night. You are all my friends and employees; not devout followers sworn to service."

* * *

"It might," agreed Delmar, "but our friend's extended his illusion to more than just his physical appearance. Wait until he comes back; I'm sure he'll refill his stein. Try and take a look at his clothes - he's covering a torn seam as well. His right shoulder. He's also covered a scent; he's wafting of something that's not native to Hope. Pine needles."

There was a pause. "I know you never seriously worked with Olfactomancy, but try and call via to your nostrils, if you can... See if we can't smell past his illusions."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aislinn sighed deeply, resigning herself to these facts. "Okay, we'll just have to keep working past the precedents the Gen-X supes left us with and go from there. I'll try to not get so wrapped up in the job."

Her older sister scoffed. "You're damn right you won't. Ciaran and I will be the first ones to remind you not to be so serious, Aislinn. And you won't know it until it'll be too late," she chuckled.

The youngest of the McConmaras snorted and rolled her eyes at the two of them. "Trembling in my boots," she retorted, smirking.

***

"Very well," the archmage responded, waiting patiently. Once the man would have returned with his refilled stein, she took a more discerning glance at his clothes and beckoned via into her nostrils, hoping to figure out who this person actually was.