Forgre

Chapter 7:

– Amy –

Amy sat at the dinner table, trying desperately not to roll her eyes as Vicky and Carol continued fussing over her newly discovered ability to heal herself. Inwardly, she cursed Silas Thorn and his stupid, ridiculously handsome face. This was entirely his fault, after all. Him and his weird, overpowered, reality-breaking powers had somehow infected her—and now she was stuck having to explain herself to her worried mother and overly excited sister.

"Come on, Amy," Vicky whined impatiently, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with envy. "Do the glowy-hand thing again! I want to see more of this crazy magic of yours."

Amy sighed, feeling a headache brewing. A headache that she can technically heal now, but still! "Vicky, stop pestering me already. I don't even know how I did it the first time! It just happened, okay? Calm down."

Vicky didn't calm down at all. Instead, she leaned across the table, practically climbing onto Amy's lap in her eagerness. "Yeah, but Amy—this is actual fucking magic! Magic from another universe! Seriously, do you have any idea how incredibly jealous I am right now?"

"Yeah, I got that," Amy said dryly. She rubbed her forehead with one hand, trying to ignore the growing tension in the room. She wasn't used to this kind of attention—and she didn't particularly like it. Especially since her mother was watching her so intently, her sharp lawyer's eyes narrowed in thoughtful, suspicious assessment.

Carol cleared her throat, finally interrupting Vicky's endless gushing. "Amy," she said carefully, voice calm but edged with concern, "I really think we need to report this development to the PRT immediately. An unexpected new ability, especially something this significant—it could have serious implications."

Amy stiffened at once, glancing toward her mother with clear annoyance. "No way. I'm not running to the PRT about this, Mom. Not yet, at least. This...this ability, whatever it is—this is mine." Her voice softened slightly as she tried to explain herself. "Think about it. My powers have always only worked on other people. I've healed everyone from broken bones to terminal cancer, but I've never once been able to fix so much as a paper cut on myself. This magic or whatever—I don't want them poking and prodding me over it. Not now. Not when I've finally got something for myself!"

Carol's mouth tightened into a thin, worried line. "Amy, I understand wanting privacy, but—"

Amy held up her hand sharply, cutting off her mother's argument. "Car–Mom… Please. Can't I have this one thing to myself, at least for now? Just a day or two to process it before everyone jumps all over me about tests and forms and procedures? It's already stressful enough as it is."

Carol hesitated, visibly conflicted. Eventually, she let out a reluctant sigh. "Alright. A day or two," she conceded softly. "But promise me that if anything else changes, or if you discover more about this...magic, you'll come straight to us. Deal?"

Amy nodded quickly, relief flooding through her. "Deal. Thanks, Mom." Amy was surprised Carol conceded. This was definitely a new development lately with her mother but Amy couldn't say she hated it…

Satisfied—at least temporarily—Carol turned her attention back to her meal. 

But Vicky clearly wasn't ready to drop the subject just yet. She nudged Amy's arm again, her eyes practically shining mischievously. "So...what else do you think you can do? Can you cast fireballs now? Teleport? Summon a 'snarky' magic dragon or something!?"

Amy groaned softly, burying her face briefly in her hands. "For God's sake, Vicky, don't be ridiculous. It's just a little healing spell…"

Vicky's grin didn't falter. "But you healed yourself! I bet that means you could do all sorts of cool things! Maybe you could finally stop your periods, too! You know, since you always make mine disappear."

Amy blushed slightly at the reminder, feeling faintly embarrassed. Her sister had a point, though. She was jealous every single time Vicky breezed through her month without cramps or irritation. Amy had always hated that her powers had never let her experience the same luxury.

She lowered her voice to a whisper, making sure Carol wasn't paying attention. "I mean...yeah. Maybe. I was just thinking about exactly that, actually…" 

Maybe she would actually thank Silas later. 

…After the pervert gave her back her freaking costume! And he better damn have it because she was not looking forwards to telling Carol she lost her expensive bullet proof cape costume. There would be so many more questions that would be worse to explain than why she suddenly had magic…

– Silas –

I woke up the next morning feeling more rested than I had in days. 

After everything that had happened these last few days, a normal night's sleep was exactly what I'd needed. For a brief moment, I considered just rolling back over and ignoring the world entirely. Then again, something about living on the Rig—a literal floating superhero fortress—made me suspect that skipping out on responsibilities probably wasn't the best idea…

My suspicion was immediately confirmed by a firm, polite knocking at the door. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

"Silas? Are you awake?" Miss Militia's gentle, muffled voice came through the door. "I have something important to talk to you about."

I yawned widely, scratching at the back of my head as I shuffled across the room. When I opened the door, Miss Militia stood there in full costume—camo fatigues, American-flag scarf wrapped neatly around her face. Watching me carefully. Even this early, she looked completely put-together and professional. 

The exact opposite of how I felt right then. Still wearing the workout clothes I went to sleep in. Sophia and I weren't up too late in the gym because she told me there was something she had to take care of early in the morning, but I was up regardless. Struggling to fall asleep as the past few days really sunk in.

"Yeah, I'm up," I said, stifling another yawn. "What's going on?"

Miss Militia's eyes curved up slightly at the edges, betraying the faint smile hidden beneath her scarf. "Well, Silas, I know yesterday was strange. But we still have protocols we need to follow—especially when it comes to the Wards…"

I blinked at her slowly, my sleepy brain taking a second to process what she was implying. "Protocols? Like what?"

She hesitated, almost as if bracing for my reaction. "Like school, Silas. Despite everything that's happened recently, you're technically still enrolled at Winslow High. And unless there's a real emergency, Wards aren't allowed to just skip classes…"

My heart dropped slightly. Fuck. School. With everything going on, I had honestly completely forgotten about that little detail. I groaned, rubbing my forehead. "You can't be serious?"

Maybe I should have just gone the vigilante route…

Miss Militia chuckled softly, sympathetic but firm. "Rules are rules, and education matters—even to superheroes."

I sighed, resigned to my fate. "Fine. Whatever. I'll go. But how exactly am I supposed to get there from here? Are you guys expecting me to take the bus like nothing's changed?"

Her eyes sparkled with mild amusement. "No buses needed. I'll be driving you myself—on my motorcycle."

I paused at that, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Wouldn't that kinda make me stand out? Aren't we supposed to be hiding my identity, or whatever?"

She winced slightly, visibly uncomfortable. "Ah. About that... There's actually something else you need to know." Miss Militia shifted awkwardly, clearly unsure how to break the news gently. "Late last night, an anonymous PHO account posted a video from the hospital. It showed your trigger event, clearly captured alongside Panacea. Your civilian identity is no longer private. Actually, at this point, your identity is completely public…"

"Oh," I replied slowly, digesting the news. Strangely, I wasn't nearly as upset as I'd expected to be. Maybe it was because I had mentally prepared for this possibility already. Or maybe I just didn't really care about secret identities all that much to begin with. "I guess that means riding to school on your motorcycle won't exactly make things worse."

Miss Militia nodded, relief evident in her posture. "Exactly. If your identity hadn't already leaked, we would've arranged something more discreet. But now there's no real reason to hide it. And honestly, arriving at Winslow with a Protectorate escort might actually be safer for you right now."

I shrugged, unfazed. "Works for me. Let me get dressed real quick, and I'll meet you by the Rig's main entrance."

Miss Militia gave a grateful nod. "Thank you, Silas. I'll wait for you there. Don't take too long—school starts in less than an hour."

"Got it," I promised, closing the door again and letting out another deep sigh.

This was so bizarre. I'd gone from nearly losing my virginity to a Panacea and the sexy dragonborn Hildra, to teaming up with Shadow Stalker, and then shocking a Nazi into unconsciousness, and finally officially joining a government-sponsored hero team. 

Now I was expected to show up at school and act like everything was normal?

I moved back into the room, pulling off the plain white t-shirt I'd slept in and carelessly tossing it onto the floor. Just as I was about to dig through the dresser for clothes, the door suddenly cracked open behind me.

"Oh, one more thing—" Miss Militia's voice cut off abruptly as she saw me shirtless. She let out an embarrassed squeak, her eyes widening dramatically. Her cheeks reddened as she immediately spun around, facing the hallway. "Silas! Please—don't just start changing clothes in front of me!"

She was the one who walked in on me though…

I laughed softly at her startled reaction, already feeling better about the ridiculous morning I was having. "Sorry about that, Miss Militia. I figured you were already gone."

"Clearly," she muttered, voice muffled by her scarf. "Just... hurry up, please. I'll meet you outside."

Once she quickly retreated, firmly shutting the door behind her, I managed to get myself properly dressed in some casual jeans, a dark shirt, and a jacket that fit surprisingly well. It felt good to be back in normal clothes again. Skyrim's rough leather armor had gotten really uncomfortable.

A few minutes later, I passed a lot of security checkpoints until I made my way outside to the Rig's main entrance. Miss Militia stood waiting by her motorcycle, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently against the ground. 

"About time," she teased lightly, tossing me a sleek black helmet. "Hop on, and hold tight."

I slid the helmet onto my head and climbed onto the seat behind her. "You ever driven a Ward to school like this before?" I asked curiously, wrapping my arms cautiously around her slender waist.

"Believe it or not, Silas, you're my first," she replied dryly, starting the engine.

Miss Militia drove fast. Seriously fast!

Even with my enhanced senses from being Dragonborn, the speed was something else entirely. My arms tightened instinctively around her waist as we took corners at reckless speeds. The wind whipped around us, sharp and cold even through my jacket, and I squeezed my eyes shut briefly, pressing my body against her back just to hold on.

Despite the rapid pace, I became distinctly aware of exactly how Miss Militia felt against me. She was slender, toned, muscular in all the right places—but soft and warm, too. It didn't help that her tight combat fatigues hugged every curve of her body. The steady vibration of the motorcycle only intensified things.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying desperately to think about anything else. Skyrim, dragons, Nazis, whatever—anything that would distract me. But it didn't really work, and I felt myself start to get embarrassingly hard. I mentally cursed myself, hoping she wouldn't notice.

But of course, she did.

Miss Militia suddenly stiffened in my arms. Her back went rigid for a brief second. It was only a tiny reaction, but enough to make my face flush hot with embarrassment.

"Sorry," I muttered awkwardly, my voice drowned out by the roar of the engine and the wind. If she heard me, she gave no indication. Instead, she just adjusted her grip on the handlebars and pressed the motorcycle even faster. Clearly, her strategy for dealing with this was pretending it hadn't happened, which honestly worked just fine for me…

We flew through Brockton Bay streets at lightning speed, blatantly ignoring at least half a dozen traffic laws along the way. Red lights meant nothing. Speed limits were merely suggestions. And lane markers? Apparently, those were just decorative. 

Finally, Winslow High loomed up ahead, and Miss Militia expertly skidded the motorcycle to a stop right in front of the main entrance. I quickly released her waist, relieved and embarrassed in equal measure, and stumbled a bit awkwardly off the bike. My legs felt a little shaky beneath me as I straightened up and took off the helmet she'd given me. The boner in my pants also quickly went back down which I was thankful for.

That's when I finally took notice of my surroundings. Dozens of students were gathered near the front doors, all of them frozen in place, openly gawking at us in shock. I glanced around slowly, feeling a sudden rush of self-consciousness. Everyone had their phones out, filming or taking pictures, whispering excitedly to one another.

"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Just fantastic."

Miss Militia stepped off the bike gracefully, completely composed, like a celebrity used to constant attention. She tugged her scarf up just a little, hiding her smile from everyone but me. "Welcome to fame, Silas," she said quietly, amusement clear in her voice.

"Is this seriously what it's like every day?" I asked, genuinely curious. 

Miss Militia nodded slowly, suddenly serious again. "Unfortunately, yes. It's not always fun. But at least for today, you might enjoy the attention a bit." She turned back toward the motorcycle and pulled something from a saddlebag. "Before I forget—this is for you."

She handed me a black backpack with the distinctive PRT logo subtly embroidered onto one side. It looked sturdy, practical, and extremely government-issued. "What's in it?" I asked curiously, accepting it.

"Standard emergency supplies, mostly," she explained briskly. "Extra notebooks, pens, pencils, a calculator, textbooks—basic school supplies to replace anything you lost recently. Plus emergency money, some energy bars, and a secure phone that links directly to the PRT."

I raised an eyebrow skeptically. "A direct line to the PRT? You expecting trouble today?"

She shook her head quickly, reassuring. "Not really. Villains attacking schools is rare because of the unwritten rules. Nobody sane wants the Protectorate coming down on them that hard. But just in case..." Miss Militia leaned closer, her voice low and firm. "If anyone—any villain or criminal—so much as thinks about messing with my Wards, they'll quickly find out just how seriously I take my new job!"

I swallowed, impressed by the sheer intensity of her protective glare. She might've been new as the head of the Wards, but Miss Militia wasn't playing around. "Thanks, mom militia!" I said and she pouted at me.

"I hate that name…" she muttered, before telling me to call if I needed anything. 

I told her I would.

As she swung back onto her motorcycle, I turned toward the school's entrance. Everyone around me quickly parted, still staring wide-eyed. 

– Sophia –

Sophia pulled Emma and Madison quickly into an empty classroom down the hall before first period started. The door shut quietly behind her, and she leaned against it, eyeing the two girls carefully. Madison looked nervous—then again, Madison was almost always nervous, Sophia realized. It was just part of her personality at this point. Emma, on the other hand, practically vibrated with barely contained excitement.

"So?" Emma whispered fiercely, grinning wide. "Today's the day. The locker prank—we've been setting this shit up for months! Taylor's gonna be completely wrecked. Tell me it's all good."

Sophia hesitated for a moment, running a hand over her face. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Yeah, about that," she finally muttered. "We're not doing the locker prank. I cancelled it."

Emma's expression froze instantly, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. She stepped forward sharply, getting right into Sophia's personal space. "Wait, what the fuck do you mean 'cancelled'? Sophia, we've literally planned this out for weeks! Everything was perfect!"

Madison shifted anxiously, her eyes darting back and forth between them, clearly unsure what to say. She tugged nervously at the ends of her hair and avoided meeting Sophia's eyes. Typical Madison, never comfortable with confrontation.

"Look, Emma, relax," Sophia said firmly, trying to sound reasonable despite her growing irritation. "I got here super early this morning and used my powers to clean out Taylor's locker. Disinfected it, wiped it clean, got rid of every disgusting thing we put in there." Her face twisted with disgust, remembering the experience. "And let me fucking tell you, it was the most vile thing I've ever done in my life. Seriously, Emma. I had to take three fucking showers in the gym locker rooms afterward!"

Emma's shocked disbelief quickly morphed into anger. "You cleaned it up? Why the fuck would you do that, Sophia? The whole point was to make Taylor finally break! It was supposed to ruin her once and for all!"

Sophia's eyes narrowed dangerously, her expression shifting into annoyance. "Keep your voice down, Emma. Fuck's sake. Look—I have a damn good reason, okay?"

Emma's face was flushed with anger, but she held her tongue, clearly waiting for Sophia's explanation.

Sophia glanced at Madison briefly, who looked uncertain, then back to Emma. She sighed deeply. "So, the Protectorate got a new Ward yesterday. That Silas Thorn guy—you've both seen the videos on PHO, right? He's going to school here now, and…" Sophia trailed off, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "Well, he made it clear he doesn't like bullies."

Emma paused, blinking in surprise, her anger fading slightly. "Wait—Silas? The guy who triggered in the hospital next to Panacea? He's actually going here?" Her tone shifted rapidly, becoming curious and excited. "No shit? Seriously? How did we never notice him before? He looked kinda hot in those PHO clips, too…"

Sophia rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defensively. "Yeah, that's the guy. And yes, he's actually going here. I met him yesterday. He joined the Wards officially. Dude took down fucking Rune from the Empire instantly. I was right there with him. Trust me, Emma, he's a total badass. A predator."

Emma raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin suddenly spreading across her face. "Uh-huh. And is there maybe another reason you want us to suddenly play nice with Taylor besides all that?"

Sophia felt her face heat up even further, annoyance mingling with embarrassment. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Emma smirked smugly, folding her arms. "Come on, Sophia. You're blushing like crazy. You've never even glanced at a boy before. Never showed any interest in anyone at this school. And now suddenly, this mysterious, strong, and probably hot-as-hell new cape appears, and you immediately stop messing with Taylor—something we've been doing for over a year. You really expect me to believe you don't have an ulterior motive?"

Sophia sputtered indignantly, desperately trying to regain control. "Fuck off, Emma. It's not like that. This isn't about me wanting to fuck the guy—" She immediately stopped herself, realizing that was exactly what it sounded like. Emma's smug grin widened triumphantly. Madison, for her part, looked stunned and amazed.

"Holy shit, Sophia," Madison murmured quietly. "Do you actually like someone? Is that even possible?"

Sophia groaned softly, burying her face briefly in her hands. "I hate both of you so much right now."

Emma laughed openly, her anger forgotten, clearly delighted by this unexpected turn of events. "Okay, fine. I get it now. We lay off Taylor Hebert, because you're crushing hard on the new guy who doesn't tolerate bullying. That's fucking adorable. Seriously. Who knew Shadow Stalker even had hormones…?"

Sophia glared fiercely, though the blush on her cheeks only deepened. "You're an asshole, Emma."

Emma simply shrugged casually, unfazed. "Maybe, but I'm also your best friend. And hey—if backing off from Taylor helps you land a hot superhero boyfriend, then I guess I can sacrifice some petty vengeance. For now…"

Madison looked visibly relieved, finally relaxing a little. She spoke quietly. "...Honestly, I'm kind of glad we're not doing it. I was feeling pretty uncomfortable about the whole thing. It seemed really messed up."

Sophia nodded at her briefly. After cleaning all that shit up… She could agree the locker thing was a step too far.

Emma took a step closer, suddenly serious again. "So Silas? Does he know who you are? Out of costume, I mean?"

Sophia shook her head. "No. At least, not yet. But I'm planning to fix that soon."

Emma's eyes immediately lit up, excitement sparkling openly. "Oh! Introduce me, too! Seriously, Sophia, if you're not claiming him for yourself already, I definitely want a shot!"

Sophia groaned loudly, rolling her eyes again at her friend's blunt thirstiness. "Emma. Could you at least pretend to have some dignity?"

Emma shrugged shamelessly, smiling widely. "Nope. Dignity's overrated."

"Fine," she finally muttered dryly. "I'll introduce you—eventually. But only after I've talked to him alone first!"

Emma's grin widened triumphantly. "Deal."

Sophia pushed off from the door, stepping past her friends toward the hallway. "Come on," she called back to them. "Let's go. If I'm skipping out on making Taylor miserable, I might as well enjoy something else today. Like watching the entire school lose their shit when they find out we've got a new cape student."

– Silas –

Walking through the halls of Winslow felt fucking surreal. Students stared at me like I was some kind of exotic zoo exhibit, openly pointing, whispering to each other. Some didn't even bother to whisper, talking loud enough for me to hear every word.

"Dude, is that really him? The new cape from PHO?"

"Yeah, man! That's Silas Thorn, the guy who triggered alongside Panacea!"

"No shit! I heard he took down Rune last night. It's all over the forums."

I winced slightly hearing that last bit. I hadn't expected news about last night's confrontation with Rune to get out quite so quickly. Then again, Brockton Bay was basically drowning in cape gossip. It was naive to think something like that wouldn't leak almost immediately.

Ignoring the murmurs, I kept moving, trying to stay calm and act casual. Winslow was exactly as rundown and shitty as I remembered—flickering fluorescent lights, peeling paint, the faint smell of mold everywhere. Honestly, it was hard to believe I'd forgotten how terrible this place really was after just a few days away in a fantasy world.

I rounded the corner toward my first-period classroom and stopped short. 

Five white kids—big guys, all with shaved heads—stood directly in my path, blocking the hallway completely. They stared at me, sneering openly. 

My eyes quickly noted the baseball bat gripped tightly in one kid's hand. Another guy, standing slightly behind him, casually flipped open a switchblade. The other three didn't have any visible weapons, but their clenched fists and eager glares made their intentions pretty damn clear.

Great. My first morning back at school, and I was already dealing with Nazi wannabes. Seriously, fuck school...

I sighed, rolling my shoulders back slightly, meeting the gaze of the largest guy—the one holding the baseball bat. "Morning, gentlemen," I said dryly, forcing myself to sound casual despite the spike of adrenaline suddenly flooding my system. "Can I help you?"

The lead guy scowled deeper, taking a step forward. "You think you're fucking funny, Thorn? You messed with Rune last night. Got her arrested by your hero buddies. You fucked with the Empire. You made us look weak!"

I raised an eyebrow. "So, you're admitting you're Nazis out loud in the middle of the hallway at school? Bold move. Really fucking stupid, but bold."

His face flushed an ugly shade of red. He pointed the baseball bat threateningly in my direction. "We're the ones gonna teach you a lesson. Nobody fucks with the Empire!"

Behind him, the guy with the knife smiled nastily, flicking the blade in a way he probably thought was menacingly as the others moved to flank me. I glanced around quickly. 

Dozens of other students had gathered, forming a wide circle around us, clearly excited to watch the coming fight. I briefly hoped one of them might actually do something useful—like getting a teacher or calling security—but of course, this was Winslow. They all had their phones out instead, ready to record everything instead. 

Yeah that's about how I figured it would go.

I turned my attention back to the five idiots surrounding me, exhaling slowly and taking an amateurish fighting stance. Honestly, I had no formal training or anything. I definitely couldn't use lightning magic in the middle of the hallway, either. 

No, this had to be done the old-fashioned way: fists only.

Thankfully, being Dragonborn meant I was considerably stronger and faster than the average high-school thug, even without my new Nightingale Costume to make me even tougher. I had no doubt I could handle these idiots.

The guy with the bat snarled and charged first, swinging clumsily toward my head. I ducked instinctively, his swing passing harmlessly over me. Before he could recover, I stepped in and slammed my fist hard into his stomach, feeling the satisfying impact as air whooshed out of his lungs. He doubled over, gasping for breath, dropping the bat loudly onto the floor.

Knife guy lunged next. Going for my torso. I twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade as it whistled past my ribs. Grabbing his wrist, I twisted sharply and slammed his elbow down onto my raised knee. He let out a sharp cry of pain, dropping the knife immediately. My fist then lashed out and hit his jaw. His head whipped to the side with blood and spit flying out. He hit the ground hard and wasn't getting back up.

Two down, three to go.

The remaining skinheads exchanged uneasy glances, clearly reconsidering their decisions. But peer pressure was a bitch, and they all charged at once.

I blocked a sloppy punch aimed at my face, responding instantly with a jab to the guy's nose. There was a sharp crunch and a spray of blood as he stumbled backward with a pained yelp. Another grabbed me from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around my torso, but he wasn't even close to strong enough to hold me. I easily broke out with my strength before grabbing him and slamming him hard to the floor.

The final guy swung a clumsy haymaker toward my chin, trying to get me while I was distracted. I dodged easily, driving my fist straight into his jaw just like knife-guy.

I exhaled heavily, adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. All five of them were down or unconscious. None of them tried to get back up. The hallway fell completely silent for a second, then exploded into excited cheers and applause from the crowd gathered around us!

"Holy shit! He wrecked them all!"

"I got the whole thing on camera!" another voice called excitedly.

"Get fucked, Nazi's!"

I glanced around slowly, still breathing a little heavily. There were a lot of cameras on me. Yeah, this shit was definitely going straight to PHO. 

"Alright, show's over," I called out loudly, trying to sound calm and authoritative despite the lingering adrenaline spike. "Someone actually wanna grab security now? That'd be great."

A few students finally scattered, running off down the hall toward the main office. The others stayed put, still filming, whispering excitedly, clearly thrilled by the unexpected morning spectacle.

I ducked into the nearest bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind me. My knuckles stung a bit from the fight, and there was a little blood splattered on my hands—none of it mine, thankfully. 

I stepped up to the sink and turned on the faucet, watching the rusty Winslow water sputter before flowing clean. Slowly, I scrubbed my hands clean. 

The last thing I needed was my first period teacher seeing me walking into class with blood on my hands and having a heart attack over it.

When I was sure I'd gotten it all off, I stared at my reflection in the dirty, cracked mirror. Making sure none of it had gotten on my clothes either. Thankfully, it was all good. I briefly considered calling Miss Militia–but it had barely been 10 minutes since she left and I'm pretty sure things were handled after the public beating those guys just got.

I almost jumped when a familiar blue notification screen suddenly flashed into existence right in front of my face!

[Congratulations! You have prevented the rise of two future villainesses, turning them toward the path of heroism instead. You have been awarded: Spell Tome: Flames.]

I blinked a few times.

Wait? What did I do now? Villainesses?

When did I do that? All the Nazi's I punched out were dudes though…?

Eh. Whatever. Honestly, I wasn't going to complain if m System wanted to reward me randomly for stuff. I didn't even know it could do that! Which was actually pretty freaking awesome. Would it award me everytime I did "hero stuff?"

I shrugged to myself and clicked my inventory screen, checking out the newly acquired tome. 

I grinned slightly, pretty damn tempted to pull it out and learn it right then and there. Fire magic sounded awesome! 

But on second thought... did I really need it?

I already had lightning, which was badass enough on its own. Lightning could do basically everything fire could, probably even better. More precise, faster, less risk of accidentally burning the whole damn place down. Realistically, fire would just be redundant in combat.

Another thought occurred to me. My mind drifted back to Amy—Panacea. Considering everything she'd been through because of me lately, maybe I owed her something nice. I didn't really need the Flames spell—but Amy might actually get some genuine use out of it. Her powers were scary as hell, but she still had to touch someone's bare skin for them to work. I think she'd appreciate some ranged offensive abilities to protect herself.

I could already picture the shock on her face later when I hand her the tome. I quickly rearranged my inventory, carefully sliding the "Spell Tome: Flames" icon, with my finger, right next to Panacea's neatly hero costume—which I still needed to return. 

I exited the bathroom feeling a hell of a lot lighter and started walking toward my first-period class again. The hallway was already mostly clear. People had moved on now that the entertainment was over, and classes were starting soon. Maybe this day would finally settle down into something resembling normalcy now?

And just as I had that thought, the crackly intercom system blared out overhead, echoing throughout the entire building: "Silas Thorn, please make your way to the principal's office immediately. Silas Thorn to the principal's office…"

I paused mid-step, sighing deeply.

Yeah, I should have figured that was coming. 

Chapter 8:

– Silas –

The principal sat behind her oversized desk, stacks of paperwork piled messily around her. She gestured vaguely at the chair across from her. "Mr. Thorn, please have a seat."

As I lowered myself carefully into the uncomfortable plastic chair, I studied her expression, waiting for the hammer to drop. But to my complete surprise, she didn't look angry or disappointed. If anything, she seemed almost pleased, smiling in a way that was probably supposed to be reassuring.

"First things first," she began pleasantly. "Welcome back to Winslow, Mr Thorn. I realize your return hasn't exactly gone smoothly this morning."

I shifted uneasily in the chair, clearing my throat. "Yeah, you could say that. Uh…sorry about the fight, Principal Blackwell. I didn't really have much choice—those Empire guys came after me first. I was just defending myself."

She waved my apology away, shaking her head gently. "No need to explain yourself. We've already reviewed several videos from student phones, I assure you." Her smile widened just a fraction, a brief flash of amusement crossing her face. "Honestly, it's refreshing seeing one of our students standing up to some of our more…problematic elements."

I raised my eyebrows slowly. "Wait, so I'm not in trouble?"

She chuckled softly, shaking her head again. "Not at all, Mr. Thorn. On the contrary—Winslow is proud to host another member of Brockton Bay's Wards program. Having you attend school here is actually a significant honor."

She sounded almost eager, which felt odd. It took me only a second to put two and two together. Of course—schools with cape students got extra funding from the city. Having me enrolled here probably meant more resources, maybe even bonus money directly into her school's severely limited budget. 

That explained the suddenly friendly reception. It made sense now why she wasn't laying into me. I fought back a cynical smirk. Well, whatever. It wasn't like extra funds wouldn't help this absolute disaster of a school anyway.

She continued, her tone suddenly shifting slightly. "As for the…altercation earlier, don't concern yourself. The students involved—the Empire sympathizers who attacked you—will all be disciplined appropriately."

"Disciplined?" I echoed skeptically, my brows furrowing slightly.

Blackwell hesitated briefly, visibly uncomfortable for the first time in our conversation. "They'll be receiving detentions, Mr. Thorn."

My jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. "Seriously? Detentions?" They literally tried to murder me in your hallway… 

Fucking Winslow… Someone literally tries to knife you, and the worst punishment they get is detention. Goddamn ridiculous.

She winced a little, her smile faltering for a moment before returning smoothly. "Yes, well… Unfortunately, these are the established protocols we're required to follow. The school board mandates specific disciplinary measures, and we can't deviate from—"

I sighed loudly, interrupting her defensive speech. "Yeah, sure. Got it." 

Blackwell's smile tightened slightly, her eyes turning briefly sympathetic. "Trust me, Mr Thorn. I'm just as frustrated by the system as you are. But my hands are tied."

I nodded stiffly, deciding to let it drop. Picking an unnecessary fight with the principal right now wouldn't change anything. Besides, if those Nazi idiots wanted a round two later, I had no issues putting them down again. Maybe harder next time. "Understood," I finally said aloud, forcing a neutral smile onto my face. "Thanks for explaining, Principal Blackwell."

"Good," she said, clearly relieved I'd backed down. Her smile was warm again, although it still felt a bit too fake for my liking. "Well, I've already kept you long enough. Better head to class now."

Glancing quickly at the old, battered clock mounted crookedly on her wall, I groaned inwardly. "Great, I'm already half an hour late."

She offered an apologetic shrug, standing up from her chair. "I'll send a note along excusing your tardiness—don't worry about it."

As I rose from my seat, ready to escape the awkward conversation as fast as possible, she extended her hand across the desk, shaking mine briskly. "Again, Silas—welcome back. And please remember, Winslow High is here to support you in any way we can."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, support—sure. As long as they got their precious extra funding out of it.

…

Sitting alone at my lunch table felt like being on display in a fucking zoo. Every few seconds, I caught students staring at me out of the corner of my eye, whispering excitedly among themselves. Word had obviously spread fast—I was the new Ward in town, and the Nazi-smashing this morning had put me squarely in the spotlight. The phone videos were already everywhere, and I doubted my fifteen minutes of fame were ending anytime soon.

Across the crowded cafeteria, a table full of skinheads glared daggers at me, their shaved heads gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

No–I mean literally… They were shiny as fuck for some reason.

They were obviously friends of the morons I'd beaten up earlier, seething with hatred and the humiliation of seeing their buddies get curb-stomped. I locked eyes with the biggest asshole of the bunch, smirked lazily, and casually flipped him the bird.

Several nearby students gasped dramatically. 

I didn't care. Fuck those racist losers. If they wanted another ass-kicking, they knew exactly where to find me. The skinhead's expression darkened dangerously, but he didn't get up or move towards me—just clenched his fists impotently and looked away. Pussy.

Satisfied, I turned back to my lunch tray. Winslow's pizza was predictably disgusting, covered in a questionable orange grease and topped with some strange-looking cheese substitute. Still, I was starving enough to risk it. 

I picked up a slice, hesitantly sniffing at it to make sure it wasn't secretly toxic.

Before I could brave the first bite, though, three girls suddenly approached my table. The low buzz of conversation around us died down noticeably, people openly staring again. 

I recognized the trio instantly. Sophia Hess was leading the charge, wearing tight jeans and a snug black shirt that emphasized her athletic build.

Beside Sophia was a stunningly attractive redhead—Emma Barnes. I'd seen her around Winslow plenty of times before. She was a literal model. Long, fiery-red hair cascading down her back, bright green eyes, flawless pale skin, and curves for days. 

The third girl was Madison Clements, petite with straight black hair and wide eyes that darted nervously around the cafeteria. She seemed permanently anxious, clinging close to Emma's side.

Without even asking, Sophia dropped herself smoothly into the chair opposite me. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting her chin in one palm as she met my gaze boldly. "Heard you gave those Nazi assholes an early-morning beatdown," she said approvingly. "Nice work. I'm Sophia, and you're Silas, right?"

I raised an eyebrow, unable to keep myself from smirking a bit. "Yeah, well… it felt like they were practically stalking me this morning," I said casually, putting clear emphasis on 'stalking.' 

Sophia's eyes widened slightly for just an instant, surprise flashing briefly across her face. She knew exactly what I was implying—I was letting her know I knew precisely who she was. Rather than looking alarmed or pissed off, though, her grin only widened, turning cockier.

"Damn," she murmured appreciatively. "That's metal as fuck, honestly. Kinda pissed I missed seeing it myself."

I chuckled softly, taking a bite of the awful pizza and swallowing with some difficulty before I shot her a teasing look. "Well, there's always next time," I said lightly. "You know, if you think you can keep up."

She laughed openly at that, eyes narrowing with challenge. "Trust me, I think you'll find I can more than keep up."

Behind her, Emma and Madison slid into seats beside Sophia, clearly eager to join in.

Emma leaned toward me slightly, brushing her red hair over one shoulder. Her voice was smooth and flirtatious. "I don't think we've officially met yet. I'm Emma Barnes."

"Silas Thorn," I replied, giving her a polite nod. "Though I'm guessing you probably already know that."

She laughed gently, her eyes glittering playfully. "Hard not to. You're the hottest topic in school today."

Madison cleared her throat quietly, clearly gathering courage to speak up. Her voice was soft and hesitant. "And I'm Madison. Sorry if we're intruding… but Sophia insisted we come say hi."

"Nah, you're fine," I reassured her. "Honestly, I'd rather deal with some friendly conversation than just sit here alone getting stared at like a freakshow."

Emma flashed me a dazzling grin. "Oh, trust me, Silas. Nobody here thinks you're a freakshow. You practically have a fan club after what you pulled this morning. People here are starved for heroes, after all."

I snorted quietly, shaking my head in mild disbelief. "A fan club, seriously? That's gotta be an exaggeration."

Sophia leaned back casually in her chair, folding her arms and looking smugly amused. "Not even close. Face it, hero—after the videos went up, you're officially Winslow royalty now."

I rolled my eyes at that. 

Emma giggled, clearly entertained by my dry humor. "Oh, it's not all bad. Just means you get the perks, too. Like, say, having lunch with three of Winslow's finest?" She tilted her head slightly, green eyes practically daring me to deny it.

"And what exactly makes you three the finest?" I took her bait.

Emma didn't miss a beat, tossing her hair back confidently. "Simple. We're smart, we're funny, and let's be real—we're hot." She gestured to herself and her friends, utterly unapologetic. "What's not to love about us?"

'That you're all kinda of bitches and bullies…' I thought to myself. 

Although that was in canon. I had memories of them bullying Taylor Hebert here, but the "locker incident" had never happened to my knowledge so I supposed I could give them a chance. If they cut that shit out…

Sophia just rolled her eyes, smirking knowingly as Madison blushed furiously beside them. "Ignore Emma," Sophia drawled sarcastically. "She thinks subtlety is a dirty word."

Emma shrugged, completely unbothered. "Subtlety is overrated."

I couldn't help but laugh quietly. Damn, I had to give these three props. They seemed like totally normal girls from the outside.

Sophia caught my eye again, her voice lowering slightly, leaning forward and whispering. "Seriously, though—I'm impressed, Silas. Most new Wards I've seen are too cautious or too soft to throw down like you did. Especially not openly without a mask."

I matched her cocky grin with one of my own, shrugging casually. "Maybe I'm not like most Wards."

Sophia's dark eyes sparkled dangerously, excitement flaring clearly in them. "Good," she practically purred. "I fucking hope not."

I swallowed, heart rate picking up slightly under the intensity of her stare. Fuck—Shadow Stalker was definitely trouble…

Emma leaned in again smoothly, breaking the tension. "Anyway, Silas," she said sweetly, lightly placing her fingertips on my arm. Her touch was deliberate, and I noticed Sophia's eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. "If you ever want a break, I can show you around town. I'm an excellent tour guide."

Sophia glared briefly, looking almost territorial for a split-second before she masked it expertly. Interesting…

I laughed quietly, enjoying this entirely too much. "I'll have to take a raincheck for now. I think I'll be pretty busy being a hero and all for the next few weeks…"

She pouted at me.

Sophia muttered something unintelligible under her breath, glaring daggers at her friend.

– Taylor –

Taylor clenched her fists beneath the table, her knuckles white as she stared venomously across the crowded cafeteria. From her lonely corner spot, partially hidden behind a pillar and tucked away from most prying eyes, she watched helplessly as those three awful, manipulative bitches—Emma, Sophia, and Madison—surrounded Winslow's newly famous Ward, Silas Thorn, like vultures.

"Fucking typical," she whispered bitterly to herself. "Just fucking typical."

She'd spent the entire morning hoping—praying—that the rumors buzzing through the halls about Silas were true. They said he'd beaten down half a dozen Nazi scumbags without even breaking a sweat. Even better, the gossip confirmed that he was openly a hero—a genuine good guy who wasn't afraid to stand up to the bullies and assholes that infested every corridor of this hellhole school. After years of torment, Taylor finally dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, someone with actual power could clean up the toxic mess at Winslow High.

But of course—of fucking course—those three had already swooped in first.

Taylor felt sick watching Emma slide closer to Silas, batting her long eyelashes shamelessly and giggling at whatever he said. Beside her, Madison nodded enthusiastically, the perfect obedient sidekick, and Sophia leaned forward confidently, clearly trying to dominate the conversation. Sophia Hess, the alpha bitch herself, smirked and laughed with Silas like they were already the closest friends.

Taylor bit her lip fiercely, tasting the faint copper tang of blood. Anger coiled tight inside her gut. It just wasn't fair. She'd planned to approach Silas today—introduce herself, warn him, beg him not to fall for their games. She'd rehearsed it in her head a dozen times, desperately psyching herself up, trying to convince herself she could be brave enough. 

Yet once again, the three of them managed to shove her plans aside effortlessly, always one step ahead. They always stole everything from her. Her dignity, her confidence, her happiness. Now they were trying to take away the first shred of hope she'd felt in years.

Taylor's gaze softened slightly, though, as she continued to quietly watch Silas. He didn't look entirely comfortable surrounded by the trio. Sure, he smiled politely and laughed occasionally, but there were small signs if you knew how to spot them—how he shifted subtly in his chair whenever Emma touched his arm too familiarly. The guarded hesitation in his eyes whenever Sophia leaned in too aggressively. 

He clearly wasn't entirely buying their bullshit!

'That made sense,' Taylor realized with a slight spark of optimism. Silas had been a student at Winslow long before he'd become some famous cape, after all. He knew exactly what kind of people Emma, Sophia, and Madison were beneath their pretty façades. 

She took a shaky breath, steeling herself. If Silas was already suspicious of their act, that meant there was still hope. Taylor just had to talk to him first—warn him, before he fell too far under their spell. 

Even back before he became a hero, when everyone else either ignored her or laughed at her suffering, Silas had been different. He'd never joined in on the teasing or torment. Whenever their paths crossed, he'd quietly nodded, maybe given her a faint, sympathetic smile, just enough to let her know someone noticed her pain—even if they'd never actually talked much.

That mattered. That counted! She knew she could be a far better friend than those three manipulative bitches!

She just had to approach him—just had to talk to him, to say anything at all.

The instant she thought it, though, her stomach knotted painfully, anxiety flaring to life again. Taylor cursed silently, hating how quickly her old fears clawed back into her heart, filling her chest with familiar, paralyzing self-doubt. It wasn't fair—Emma and Sophia had done that to her too, chipped away at her confidence day after day until she could barely string two words together around strangers without panicking.

But she couldn't keep living like this!

Taylor sucked in a deep breath, forced herself to slowly exhale, and silently made herself a promise.

'Tomorrow ,' she thought resolutely. ' Tomorrow I'll approach him. No excuses this time.'

– Silas –

Those three girls were good. I had to give them credit for that—Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, and Madison Clements. They'd mastered the art of playing it casual and friendly.

Still, I'd be lying to myself if I said they weren't ridiculously hot, Sophia and Emma especially.

Shadow Stalker being into me—that was definitely an interesting turn of events. Although after she'd practically dragged me off to the gym with her last night and flirted openly, I'd had a pretty strong suspicion about that.

Still, I wasn't some naive idiot who'd let himself get manipulated by a pretty face and a hot body…

Usually.

Most of the time, anyway…

Maybe.

I shook my head sharply, chuckling quietly to myself. No. Fuck that. I'd hold firm! Unless I saw clear evidence they had genuinely changed, I wouldn't let them lead me around like some dumbass. 

Lunch was fine, a little conversation never hurt anyone—but anything beyond that? I'd have to play it safe and watch carefully. And judging by the knowing smiles they'd shot my way as lunch ended, I had a sneaking suspicion those three might be regular additions at my table from now on.

When the final bell rang for me, signaling my half-day of schooling was over—one of the many perks of officially joining the Wards—I stood and headed quickly toward the exit, shrugging on my jacket as I stepped out of the stale, cramped hallways of Winslow and into fresh air. 

The sky above was cloudy gray, thick and oppressive, but at least it wasn't raining yet. Honestly, after Skyrim's harsh weather, Brockton Bay's gloom didn't feel all that bad.

Parked conspicuously at the curb directly in front of the school entrance, a black, clearly marked PRT van awaited me. Two agents, uniformed in full gear and looking bored out of their minds, leaned against its side.

I felt a brief stab of disappointment when I realized Miss Militia wasn't the one picking me up again. Riding behind her on that motorcycle had definitely been the highlight of my morning, despite the embarrassing moment of me getting hard. 

I sighed softly.

I really needed to get my own wheels. That was officially first on my list of things to spend my first paycheck on. 

One of the agents straightened up as I approached, nodding in greeting. "Afternoon, kid. Ready to head back to the Rig?"

"Actually," I paused thoughtfully, shifting my PRT issued backpack over my shoulder. "Could we stop by the Dallon residence first? I have something I need to discuss with Carol Dallon—legal stuff, about officially joining the Wards." 

Panacea's there too, and I owe her a conversation…

He raised an eyebrow, clearly indifferent. "Sure. One second."

He turned aside and muttered something into his radio. There was a short pause before he nodded again. "You're cleared. Hop in."

I climbed into the back of the van, taking one of the hard plastic seats and buckling in. As we pulled away from Winslow, I let out a deep breath and leaned back, staring at the passing buildings and trying to mentally prepare myself for the upcoming conversation. I had Amy's costume in my inventory, along with the Flames spell tome I'd decided she might appreciate. I was curious how she'd react when I showed them to her.

Honestly, I had no clue what Amy thought about our strange adventure together—or about me personally. The almost-threesome back in Skyrim had ended before anything significant actually happened, but the tension had been there. 

Amy had seemed just as into it as I had been at the time, but maybe she'd reconsidered since coming home and thinking it over?

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Hopefully, this meeting wouldn't be too awkward.

But first things first—Carol Dallon. I absolutely needed a skilled lawyer to look over my Wards contract thoroughly. If canon knowledge held up at all, Carol would be a solid choice. She might be cold, stern, and sometimes outright abrasive, but she was also highly competent.

The drive passed quickly enough, and soon we pulled up in front of the Dallon household—a nice, comfortable home in a relatively quiet suburb of Brockton Bay. One of the agents nodded at me through the rear-view mirror. "We'll wait out here. Take your time."

"Thanks," I said, climbing out and approaching the door. My heart thumped just a bit faster as I knocked, waiting nervously.

The door opened almost immediately, revealing Victoria Dallon standing there.

'Holy shit, she is sexy!' …Was all I could think to myself.

She was wearing a loose white tank top that clung suggestively to her curves, the thin material barely hiding the generous swell of her breasts. My eyes couldn't help but drift lower, tracing the subtle outline beneath the fabric before moving downward. Her toned, flat stomach peeked out teasingly, revealing just a hint of smooth skin above a pair of incredibly short denim shorts. Those shorts clung to her hips in a way that showcased every graceful line of her slim, athletic figure—and those legs. Goddamn. Her legs went on for days…

Realizing I'd been blatantly staring for a good ten seconds, my face grew hot. 

Before I could awkwardly avert my gaze, though, Victoria's bright blue eyes shined with amusement, and she gave me a teasing wink. "You like what you see, huh?" she giggled softly. Then, leaning forward slightly so only I could hear her, she whispered mischievously, "Amy's going to be sooo jealous..."

I was embarrassed I'd been caught staring so openly. "Shit—sorry," I said hastily, running a hand nervously through my hair. "Didn't mean to just stare like that."

She laughed gently, leaning in even closer. Her voice dropped to a low, her warm breath brushing against my ear in a way that sent a small thrill down my spine. "Relax. I'm totally used to it. And honestly…?" She paused just long enough to heighten the tension before finishing her thought, "You can look all you want, handsome."

I swallowed hard. Goddamn, she was dangerous. 

Before I could formulate any coherent reply, she leaned back smoothly and gestured for me to enter, stepping aside gracefully to let me pass. She hadn't even asked why I was here—she just invited me inside without hesitation.

"Come on in, Silas," she said cheerfully. Then, raising her voice, she shouted dramatically towards the stairs, "Amy! Your boyfriend's here!"

I heard a shriek of confusion from upstairs…

My eyes widened in surprise at her declaration, and I coughed awkwardly, clearing my throat. 

Victoria just grinned wider. She shut the door behind us and turned casually back toward me, folding her arms loosely beneath her chest. "Amy and I skipped school today. Mom gave us a pass since Amy just got back from your little fantasy adventure. Which, by the way—" her eyes narrowed playfully, clearly feigning indignation, "—I'm insanely jealous about! You two got to fight dragons and meet elves! Not fair..."

"Trust me, it wasn't exactly a fun vacation. It was dangerous…" I told her.

Vicky waved away my protest. "Please. You're talking to Glory Girl here. Danger is literally my thing." She leaned closer again, tilting her head playfully and fluttering her long eyelashes at me. Her voice lowered seductively. "Next time, take me instead. I promise I'll make the trip worth your while…"

Caught off guard by her boldness, I hesitated, scrambling to come up with some coherent response. "Uh, well... the thing is, Vicky—it's not exactly something I can control yet. The adventure kind of just happened randomly. Spur-of-the-moment type thing."

Her lips formed a playful pout, clearly not entirely satisfied with my explanation. "Awww. Shame. But…" she cocked her head slightly, eyeing me carefully, "…if your powers ever let you pick your teammates ahead of time…?"

I paused awkwardly, knowing full well how weak my response sounded. "Then, um—I'll definitely consider it?" I immediately winced at myself. 

Smooth, Silas. Real fucking smooth.

Instead of looking disappointed, though, Vicky just laughed brightly, completely unbothered. "Oh, I'll take that! A weak maybe is still better than nothing!"

"Silas…" came a tired voice from the top of the stairs…

Amy slowly descended the staircase toward us, dressed casually in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Her dark red curls were slightly tousled as though she'd just woken up. Despite the relaxed clothes, she looked surprisingly cute, her face flushed slightly pink as she caught sight of me.

Following just behind Amy was another woman—one clearly related to both girls, though older and more refined. Carol Dallon, New Wave's lawyer and, frankly, a stunning MILF. 

"Good afternoon, Mr Silas Thorn," Carol greeted me politely, extending a slender hand. "What brings you to my residence."

"I'm, uh, officially joining the Wards," I began, shifting my weight awkwardly as Carol observed me closely. Her clear blue eyes had a sharpness to them, like she was dissecting every word I said. "Director Piggot gave me some paperwork yesterday, and I wanted to ask if you could go over it. You know, as my lawyer."

Carol nodded immediately, her expression professional and approving. "Joining the Wards is a wise decision, Mr. Thorn. Capes who choose to operate alone rarely last very long—especially in a city like Brockton Bay. Having backup and official resources will increase your survival odds dramatically."

"Yeah, that was pretty much my thought," I admitted, relaxing a bit under her approving gaze.

Victoria suddenly clapped her hands together, grinning enthusiastically. "Oh, this is awesome news! You being in the Wards means we'll be seeing each other a lot more often." She gave me an exaggerated wink and then turned towards Amy with a devilish grin. "Hear that, Ames? Your boyfriend's gonna be hanging around all the time now!"

Amy's face went bright crimson in an instant, and she sputtered indignantly, scowling at her sister. "Whatever, Vicky!"

Carol shot Victoria a mildly exasperated look, clearly used to her daughter's antics. "Victoria, please," she said firmly, silencing Vicky's teasing giggle almost immediately. Then she turned back to me, all professionalism again. "I'd be happy to go over the Wards contract with you, Silas. Just leave the documents with me, and I'll make sure there's nothing in there that'll cause you problems."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. "I appreciate that."

Then I turned towards Amy, who still refused to look directly at me. 

I gave her a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "Amy, listen… I just wanted to say sorry about everything that happened. I know you didn't exactly ask to get dragged into another world full of dragons and danger and all that stuff. I mean, I know it was kinda cool too—but still, you definitely didn't sign up for all that craziness."

Amy's eyes widened even further, her expression shifting to wary confusion. "Silas…?" she asked nervously. "What are you—"

"I actually have your costume," I blurted out, immediately regretting the words the instant they left my mouth. "Oh, and, uh—I also have another gift for you! You know, to make things up to you!"

Amy let out a horrified squeak, her face impossibly red now. "Dammit, Silas! Why did you say that? In front of Carol too…" she whined.

Vicky's eyes lit up with obvious delight as she leaned forward.

When Carol spoke next, her voice had dropped dangerously low—every bit the mother-protecting-her-daughter tone. "Silas," she said evenly, narrowing her eyes sharply at me, "would you care to explain why exactly you're in possession of my daughter's hero uniform…?"

Amy immediately covered her face with her hands, looking like she desperately wanted to vanish from existence entirely.

Victoria's giggle grew louder, and she looked positively delighted at the drama unfolding right before her eyes.

"Uuuuhhh…?" 

Yeah, I didn't have an appropriate response for that awkward question.

Chapter 9:

– Silas –

So… there I was. Standing in the middle of the Dallon family living room, trying not to sweat bullets while Victoria laughed like she was watching the best comedy of her life, Amy looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Carol was scowling at me with the kind of intensity that made even Endbringers look chill by comparison.

All of this, of course, because I panicked and—like a complete dumbass—blurted out the word "threesome" when Carol Dallon asked why I had her daughter's hero outfit in my inventory.

Yeah. Real smooth.

Carol didn't say anything right away. She just gave me that sharp, unreadable look, arms crossed, her expression frozen somewhere between stunned and disappointed. Amy let out a muffled groan and buried her face in both hands.

 Victoria was dying. She was leaning on the back of the couch, giggling like she was about to collapse.

"Oh my God," Amy mumbled. "Why are you like this ?" she shouted at me.

I just was...

Carol finally let out a long breath and turned to Amy instead of immediately stabbing me or something, which I figured was a good sign. "You're eighteen," she said with that clipped, lawyer-like tone. "You're free to sleep with whoever you want. That's your right. Just—" she paused, giving me a quick side-eye, "—not under my roof."

I blinked. Huh. That wasn't quite what I expected, but I wasn't complaining.

Amy let out an incredulous noise through her hands. 

Vicky, meanwhile, perked right up. "Ooooh! Does that count for me too?" she asked brightly, flashing a grin and winking at me. I had no idea if she was flirting or just stirring the pot, but either way, she looked like she was enjoying herself way too much.

"No," Carol said flatly. "Absolutely not. Unlike you, Amy is usually the responsible one."

That made me blink. Okay, not what I expected to hear. In canon, Carol never trusted Amy with anything. Even Amy seemed stunned. She looked up slowly, blinking like her brain was buffering the statement. And then she smirked. Like full-on smug, right at Vicky.

"What?! That's not fair!" Vicky whined, spinning toward her mom. "Why does she get the responsible pass?! I'm the one with the good grades!"

Carol didn't flinch. "Grades don't mean much when you're sneaking around behind my back getting Amy to fix your little accidents."

Vicky froze. "Wha—what accidents?"

Carol folded her arms. "You think I didn't know? All those times you begged Amy to fix your little problems before I'd find out? I know exactly how many times you ran to your sister after screwing up with that ex of yours. How come you never used protection!?"

Vicky blanched. "Oh my God. Mom!"

My eyebrows went up. Ex-boyfriend, huh? 

I glanced at Vicky Dallon. Interesting….

Vicky looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. Amy looked like she wanted to die from secondhand embarrassment. 

Meanwhile, I was… just taking it all in? This family was wild. Wonder where the dad was during all this though…

Then Carol turned back to me. Her expression was sharp and almost unreadable, and I braced myself. "I'm going to say this once," she said, voice low and even. "You have my blessing to date my daughter. If that's what she wants. But if you get her pregnant without a ring on her finger, I will stab you." A golden hard light blade formed in her hand, perfectly solid and shimmering as she stared at me.

I swallowed. "Yes, ma'am…"

I took a second to recover from whatever that was all about…

I turned to Amy and winked. She just groaned and rolled her eyes like she couldn't believe she was still standing here. And then I raised my hand, summoning my system interface. The familiar translucent blue screen popped into existence.

I waved my hand and brought up my system interface again. The translucent blue screen flared to life in front of me, drawing immediate attention from all three women in the room. Carol and Vicky leaned forward slightly, eyes wide. 

I reached in and pulled out her hero costume. The exact same one she'd been wearing back when we got yeeted into Skyrim. It materialized neatly in my hand, even folded properly. 

Amy snatched it from me like I was holding her diary. "Thanks, I guess," she muttered, shooting me a quick stink eye. Her face was still red, but now it was more the annoyed kind of red than the flustered one.

Carol arched a brow, arms crossed. "That storage ability of yours seems useful. How much can you carry in there?"

I shrugged. "A lot, honestly. I haven't hit a limit yet, but I haven't exactly tested it to the extreme."

Before she could say anything, I reached in again, this time pulling out a thin book. A familiar one. The cover was black with glowing orange runes— Spell Tome: Flames .

Amy blinked as I held it out to her. "You're giving me more magic?" she asked.

I tilted my head. "More? Huh? You already have magic?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she held up her hand. A golden aura flickered to life around her fingers, glowing warm and steady. My jaw tightened a little. That was Skyrim healing magic!

"When the hell did that happen?" I asked.

Amy looked sheepish. "I found out after we got back. Cut myself on accident, freaked out, and—boom." She wiggled her fingers. "Turns out I can cast healing spells on myself now."

I blinked. That was news to me. I hadn't gotten a notification or anything. I didn't realize my party members got rewards from my quests. "Guess the system is more generous than I thought," I muttered. No wonder Vicky seemed so excited earlier…

While Amy turned her attention to the new spell tome, Vicky finally decided to snap out of her depression. 

She stepped up beside me and casually pressed her body against my arm—specifically, the side with the most skin contact possible. I could feel the warmth of her chest through the ridiculously thin tank top she was wearing. The fabric was barely thicker than a sheet of paper. Her nipples were hard, and I felt every detail of them through it.

She leaned up and whispered right against my ear. "I really want to go with you next time. You know, wherever you end up… The two of us could have a great time together." She obviously wanted her own magic powers…

I turned red immediately. "I'll… think about it," I mumbled. 

She giggled softly. "That's STILL not a no."

Before she could push her luck any further, Carol gave an exasperated sigh. "Victoria. Let go of him!"

Vicky huffed and stepped away, flouncing back over to the couch like she'd been wronged. She dropped onto it, then stretched her arms above her head with a loud yawn. Her already short tank top rode up, flashing her toned stomach, and the neckline dipped low enough that one good sneeze would probably pop a tit loose.

Amy let out a low hiss from behind me. I didn't need to turn to know she was glaring daggers at her sister.

Carol turned to me, shaking her head like she'd seen this routine a hundred times. "Apologies for my daughters," she said, voice tired. "Why don't we head into the kitchen to get the paperwork out of the way?"

I patted the side of my PRT-issued backpack. "Got everything with me."

Carol and I sat at the kitchen table with the PRT contract spread out in front of us. The sun had shifted slightly, casting long shadows through the blinds, but all I could really focus on was keeping up with the rapid-fire legal analysis coming out of her mouth.

She was good. Really good.

"This clause here?" she said, tapping a paragraph halfway down page three. "If you're ever injured in the line of duty, the PRT reserves the right to classify details of your treatment as confidential. That sounds fine on the surface, but it could mean they won't tell you everything they're doing to you if they bring in their own medics."

My eyebrows shot up. "Wait—seriously?"

She nodded, already pulling a pen from her blazer pocket and crossing the line out. "We'll remove that. You deserve full transparency with your own body. They've been known to experiment on capes before..."

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling. "Alright, yeah, definitely glad I asked for help with this."

Carol gave a small smile, professional but not cold. "Most people don't realize how many traps are buried in this kind of paperwork. Especially minors and young adults." She tapped her nails against the edge of the folder. "Piggot tried to make it look generous, but this reads like someone still covering her ass in case you go rogue."

I let out a low whistle. "So she's not as trusting as she acted when I first met her."

"No. But that doesn't mean she's unreasonable either," Carol added. "Just cautious."

To be fair, the contract wasn't bad overall. Carol tore through it like a machine, crossing out some terms, rewording others, making notes in the margins. I was being offered full medical, housing if I needed it, gear and logistics support—and a base salary of a hundred thousand a year. Not bad for someone who hadn't even figured out a hero name yet.

Carol hesitated when she read that part of the offer. I caught a slight flicker in her expression. It wasn't much—just a tiny twitch of her brow—but it made me pause. I got the feeling that amount of money probably meant something different to her family than it did to the PRT. Still, I didn't bring it up. Would've felt rude.

After the final page was signed and marked up with her edits, I leaned back and gave her a warm grin. "Thanks, Carol. I seriously appreciate the help. It's always good to have someone brilliant and beautiful in your corner."

She froze mid-reach for her coffee.

Then she looked up at me. "You're already trying to seduce both of my daughters," she said flatly. "And now you're aiming for me too?"

My face went hot instantly. "Shit—no, I didn't mean it like that. I swear. It just kinda came out."

Carol blinked slowly, then actually laughed. A soft, dry sound, but genuine. "...Relax. I've heard worse. Honestly, it's nice to be appreciated as a woman every once in a while ." She said it quieter, almost under her breath.

I didn't respond to that. Didn't feel like I was meant to. I just gave her a respectful nod and stood, offering my hand. She shook it firmly, and I noticed how soft her hand felt in mine. That stuck with me more than I expected.

We stepped back into the living room together, and the moment we did, the sound of excited chatter hit us.

Vicky was sitting on the couch beside Amy, bouncing slightly in place as she clapped. "That's so badass!"

Amy sat next to her with her left hand raised, a soft, controlled flame hovering above her open palm. It danced steadily without flickering or spreading. She didn't seem burned at all. Her eyes were wide with concentration, and the smile on her face was brighter than I'd ever seen it.

She looked up at me as we walked in. "I figured it out," she said proudly. "The spell. It worked. I actually cast fire."

I grinned at her. "Guess you're a pyro now."

Amy rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide the grin. "Thanks, Silas."

I was just about to head out, but before I did, Vicky made sure that I had the phone numbers of all three of them. She shot me a wink saying that she'd make sure Amy would text me properly later. 

"And maybe I will too…" she giggled.

Carol just sighed and told me not to expect anything from her that wasn't about business. She gave me a flat look, clearly remembering just now in the kitchen.

I honestly wasn't trying to flirt with her earlier, it just came out of nowhere.

…Wait a second? I was a dragonborn now like Hildra. Was I developing the fabled "dragon rizz?" I had noticed that I'd been staring at girls a lot more than either my past selves usually did.

…

…The ride back to the Rig was quiet. The two PRT agents in the front didn't say much, which was fine by me. I wasn't really in the mood for small talk anyway. My brain was still reeling a bit from everything that had just happened at the Dallon house. Between Carol's lawyer-mode, Amy's almost meltdown, and Vicky being… well, Vicky, I was mentally tapped out.

When we finally pulled up to the Rig, I grabbed my backpack and slid out of the van. The air was cooler out here, the ocean breeze cutting through the lingering stress of the day. I stretched my arms out, cracking my neck.

Miss Militia was waiting for me just outside the main entrance. Full uniform, scarf in place, guns at her side. Her posture was as straight-backed and professional as ever, but there was a hint of awkwardness in the way her shoulders shifted when she saw me. Her eyes crinkled a little, which was the only part of her face I could see, but it was enough to read.

I knew exactly what that expression was about. Of course my brain picked that moment to flash back to that morning—me pressed against her back on the motorcycle, hands around her waist, and the very unfortunate boner situation that followed. Yeah. I remembered that awkward silence way too clearly.

Before I could say anything, she cleared her throat and spoke first. "There's someone here to meet you. Someone very important."

That immediately got my attention. I straightened up. "Important like…?"

She didn't answer directly. "Follow me."

That wasn't ominous at all.

We headed into the Rig, moving through several layers of security. Scanners, ID checks, biometric bullshit—all routine, but they still made me feel like I was walking into the Pentagon. Miss Militia didn't say another word as she led me deeper into the facility. Eventually, we stopped outside one of the meeting rooms I'd never been in before. She reached for the handle and paused, glancing back at me.

"Try not to be too nervous," she said. "And be respectful."

That did not help.

She opened the door.

I stepped inside—and immediately froze.

Sitting casually at the table, arms resting calmly in front of her, was a woman in a sleek black-and-blue costume. Her cape rested behind her chair like it had been arranged deliberately, and her helmet—iconic, clean, angular—hid most of her face, but there was no mistaking who she was.

Alexandria.

One of the goddamn Triumvirate. And the Illuminati.

I stared at her, mouth half-open. My heart thudded once, hard.

…I'm fucked.

– Kaiser –

Kaiser sat alone at the head of the long metal table, gloved fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair. He'd been waiting for twenty minutes.

The meeting was supposed to start ten ago. Hookwolf was often late—his attitude always skated close to disrespect—but this was different. None of them had shown. No Stormtiger, no Cricket, no Krieg. Not even Othala. The entire roster had ghosted him.

He clenched his jaw behind the cold steel of his helmet. His patience was wearing thin.

"Where the fuck is everyone?" he muttered under his breath, grinding his teeth.

The door to the chamber opened with a sharp clang .

"I told them not to come," a familiar voice said, cold and unbothered.

Kaiser's spine stiffened. He turned in his chair slowly as Iron Rain stepped into the room. 

He stood slowly. "...You're back…"

She cocked her head slightly. "Surprised?"

Not nearly as surprised as he was pissed. He had sent her off to Gesellschaft under the pretense of building international alliances, but really, he'd hoped they'd keep her. Or lose her. Either was fine! Her being back was not good!

He forced a stiff nod. "Welcome home, sister."

Iron Rain strolled into the room like she owned it, ignoring his sarcasm entirely. "No point in having a meeting, Max," she said, using his real name just to needle him. "Talk is cheap. You've always been better at speeches than war."

Kaiser didn't reply immediately. Years ago, he'd tried to have her quietly eliminated. It hadn't worked. She thought the hit came from the undesirables. She went on a killing spree and nearly brought the PRT down on all of them, which had led to her being quietly shipped out to Europe before the chaos collapsed everything. He was still thankful she never found out it had been him.

And now she was back. Which meant she'd want to start up again. That wasn't good. The Empire had a good thing going right now. A slow, calculated expansion. No unnecessary heat. Minimal attention from the PRT.

"Your timing is just… complicated," he said carefully.

"I heard you lost Rune." She cut him off without a care.

His jaw clenched again. "Yes. That's why I called this meeting."

She made a dismissive sound. "And I'm sure it would've been riveting. A long talk about how the Empire can 'respond appropriately' while we wait for the media heat to die down."

"We lost a powerful asset," he reminded her.

"And you got your ass kicked by a black bitch Ward and some newbie cape," she snapped.

Kaiser's eyes narrowed behind his mask. He held up a hand quickly. "We don't know that Shadow Stalker's for sure is black..."

"Doesn't matter," she said flatly. "She's fucked with the Empire too many times! And now this new one—Silas Thorn, right? That's the one who took Rune down? His identity is completely public already."

Kaiser nodded slowly. "Yes. I was going to propose something different, actually. He's new. He's obviously been led astray by heroic propaganda. We could approach him. Show him the truth of the world and have him join us. His blonde hair and blue eyed look would win us a lot of points."

Iron Rain tilted her head. "You would forgive someone who made you look weak just like that?"

"It was a misunderstanding. Rune escalated—"

"I don't give a shit what she did," she snapped. "The fact is, WE looked weak! Now the entire Bay's laughing at us. I say we remind them who runs this city."

Kaiser felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Telling her no would be a mistake. She might've been his sister, but in a direct fight, she'd win. She always had. She was always dear ol' daddy's favorite for a reason…

Fuck…

"What exactly do you have planned?" he asked with a sigh.

Iron Rain turned to face him fully. "We send a message. A very public, very loud message. One they won't forget…"