Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Lieutenant Harrington stepped out of his top-of-the-bunch police car it was into an absolutely dreary night. The downpour from above was unexpected — certainly not foretold on the news, and certainly not making his evening more pleasant. He could already feel his hat beginning to dip from being soaked in those few seconds outside as he surveyed his surroundings.

Harrington was late to the scene. Blue and red already flashed in chaotic cycles down the middle class neighborhood street, reflecting in the moist surfaces of the hedges, the concrete and the still houses that lined the sides. Nothing about this was new to him — the foreboding lights breaking the idyllic image was rather that of the tragic norm. Especially in mad times like these.

Except… there was an eerie blanket of silence that contradicted the chaotic flares of the flashers. Where he expected a flurry of movement by the officers, the stillness of the scene made his heart beat hard in his chest. It was almost enough for him to fear that his heart palpitations had made a comeback. You see, the place wasn’t even empty. In contrast there were officers aplenty standing around, shifting their weights and murmuring quietly amongst themselves. The lone pair of ambulance personnel was the only ones who seemed to have a task to do, as they tried to come into contact with a sobbing glassy eyed female who sat at the back edge of the ambulance vehicle.

The Lieutenant watched with unnerved eyes as his officers threw strange glances toward the semi-surrounded house. Whenever they eventually took their eyes off the house, they seemed drawn to it again after just a few moments. Bizarre. He began approaching the sorry group of people, discomfort growing. Normally he’d be shouting his fucking lungs off by now, but something innate held him back. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on attention, feeling out the charged atmosphere like tiny whiskers. In the corner of his eyes he could see two spectators behind the tape markings trying — but failing — to take discreet photographs. Harrington sighed. Everyone was a hoe for gossip nowadays. Gone was privacy, having to succumb under the growing pillar of mass media. 

A pair of officers greeted him with faraway gazes when he joined them. There was absolutely terror in those eyes, he decided, something uncanny about the way the orbs slowly followed him in his approach. Terror, and perhaps hopelessness. These were two of his best officers, what had reduced them to this state of— of… He didn’t even know.

“Report?” the Lieutenant said instead.

Officer Khalil only shook his head, muttering. “We don’t know what to do, Lieutenant. It’s— we’re…” The officer shook his head again, trailing off, seemingly having a hard time to muster up words. “I guess you could try, though.” There was a shakiness in Khalil’s voice as he pointed up toward the house. The third officer in the circle wordlessly followed its direction and had a hard time suppressing a visible shiver.

Lieutenant Harrington felt a surge of urgency flare up inside him. Whatever was with his officers, he needed to take immediate control of the situation. The emergency call had not been forthcoming with details, only that it was bad and possibly involved a death. He marched up to the driveway with a brisk pace, passing policemen whose faces were either soaked with small droplets of water or sweat drops, and with the slight anxiety on their expressions combined with the downpour he had a hard time figuring out the right answer. They were consciously turning away from him as he neared like they were afraid that he’d ask for their assistance. Odd. It was like he was witnessing the laid-bare fright of humanity right here.

The high-ranked policeman huffed as he took the stairs two by two. He threw a quick look back, noticing that he had drawn the attention of the blue-clothed crowd with varying intensities. Harrington was disturbed to observe that some looked at him like he was a heaven-sent savior while others looked all the more frightened. Whatever was behind that door, it had made quite an impression in a very short time. The lieutenant drew his shotgun — just to be sure — and opened the door with a twist of the knob.

The house was quiet. The inside was more rough than the pristine outside, which immediately made an impact in his mind. Maybe it mirrored that of its inhabitants. 

Harrington took a careful step over a pile of indistinguible clothes as he made his way down the cheerless hallway with the fraying wallpaper. He knew what path to take, the plentiful puddles of mud and water conveyed to him that officers had been in the house but for some indescribable reason, left the crime scene. Wouldn't they have warned him if it was dangerous? This whole situation was a chaotic mess. But someone had to take action, and he obviously couldn’t trust the sorry fucks outside. He trusted in his own capabilities should it come down to a fight.

The lieutenant rounded the corner, following the dirt and messiness, and came into a scene that he for just a second believed to be from a real life horror movie. 

He was in a bedroom. His eyes couldn’t help but to first be drawn to the blood and brain matter splattered on the wall. It had been running down the surface, creating a stringy pattern as it pooled on the floor against a body. It was there his eyes went second. The body of a large man lay in a heap on the floor, blood leaking down through the springs in the floorboards. His hand around the shotgun tightened infinitesimally. The man was obviously shot in the head. Suicide, or murder? The lieutenant's brain immediately began analyzing the situation, taking the next steps before he could move. Don’t touch anything. Evidence. Secure the room, the house.

Harrington didn’t get much farther than that because his eyes suddenly settled on a small, tawny form in the opposite corner of the bedroom, the third notable thing that made up the terrible scene. Children and blood didn’t go together in his mind. Immediately his mind switched over, instead chanting protect. Protect the kid. He did a quick perimeter sweep of the house just to be sure and then returned to the room of the crime, and the kid hadn’t moved an inch.

The poor brown haired boy sat with his arms around his legs, staring forward. He couldn’t have been more than 9, 10 or 11 years old. Harrington didn’t know if the boy had realized his presence yet. As the man crept closer slowly, he registered that the upper arms of the boy as well as his face was littered with bruises. Abuse. Corpse in the room forgotten for a moment, the policeman crouched down in front of the boy with a frown. 

“Hey, kid? It’s going to be alright, son.” Nothing would ever be alright for this kid after witnessing this, but Harrington felt better for saying it, sadness and pity feeling like a giant stone in his stomach.

Lieutenant Harrington reached forward, to tap or otherwise gently grasp the kid. The moment his finger made contact with the boy’s hand, those green, suddenly wild eyes snapped up toward him.

“Don’t touch me.”

Harrington’s hand ricocheted back and froze in midair without meaning to. He looked stupefied at the unmoving limb and then looked up to meet the distrustful eyes of the kid. They looked at him with fear. His voice was so small. The hand between them was not moving an inch, even as inner panic began growing in the older of the two. Was he a…?

“And go away.”

Lieutenant Harrington walked away. Every fiber of his mind told him not to, but he had no choice. Sweat dribbled down his forehead as his legs walked him back the way he’d come from. He took a shaky breath as he walked across the family house threshold until rain pattered him in the face again, where his legs began functioning once more. But he couldn’t go back. There was a certain mental block that prevented him from returning. So down the stairs he went, bleak as a sheet. ‘Capes’ shouldn’t be able to do what that kid just did. There was just no way. The whole of society, no, world order, was in danger with what they’ve just potentially discovered. 

As Harrington rejoined the crowd, he grabbed the nearest officer with a death grip on the shoulder, drawing his immediate attention. “Get the Parahuman Response Team on the phone, now!”

The sharp tone seemed to kick the officer out of his stupefaction, already rooting around his pocket for a phone. “Right away, sir!”

At last, the Lieutenant finally began his shouting. Commands flew criss-cross across the air and finally the crime scene came to life with scurrying, yells and tight grimaces. Fear marred his every word, but the officers appeared glad to get orders to start moving. They had to box in the house from all sides while waiting, securing the perimeter from a possible escape. Under the circumstances it could prove disastrous, the PRT had to get here now. He and his officers were way out of their league. His neck grew damp with the knowledge that the boy could walk through that door any minute. They wouldn’t be able to stop him. God, worst case scenario they would have to sic the Protectorate capes on a kid. That didn’t sit right with him either, but…

The officer with the phone came back running, phone a bit away from the ear. “They want your assessment sir, how would you like to respond?”

Harrington took a deep breath, feeling like the world had just turned on its head, unspoken laws broken. He didn’t even need to think twice.

“I request everyone, highest priority. Article 5, parahuman danger to society, potential S-threat.”

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There were many things Eren didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand why his father hit him when he hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t understand why his mom didn’t do, or say, anything against it. He didn’t understand why no one ever noticed. None of the few friends he had, none of his teachers. A woman had done a double take once in the city when he’d dared roll up his sleeves a little that one time, but nothing had come of that either. As much as Eren wanted to, he didn’t dare ask for help. There was the possibility that things would grow worse instead. 

He held steadfast to the hope that one of the heroes would appear one day and help him. That didn’t happen either. He felt powerless, the echo of a scream lodging itself in the ridges of his throat.

It was an awfully rainy autumn evening that saw him get involved in yet another beating. Eren couldn’t find a pattern that set his father off. Sometimes Eren had truly done something naughty and caught his father’s ire as a consequence, like performing badly at school or accidentally destroying property. Other times it seemed like nothing at all ignited his anger, like one tiny look at Eren was enough. It often started by him being called names and then evolved into violence. The brown haired boy had made an art of avoiding his father. Home didn’t feel safe anymore and today was a day that Eren wished he hadn’t been so lazy because of the weather, he should have gone outside to the park again to meet other boys. 

His mom layed in bed again, too tired to do anything. It seemed like those moments had only increased lately. Sometimes Eren could understand. He would like to rest too. Other times he hated her, because she would purposefully turn away in the doorway when he needed her the most, like right now. It didn’t feel fair. He also had a sense that it hadn’t always been like this, but those memories were but slippery eels to him. 

The grip on his arm hurt, and he was being shaken too violently. His head could only rattle together with the motions to decrease the amount of pain it caused. The session was going on for too long, but it often did when his father smelled foul. It was getting harder and harder to keep escaping into his thoughts. His heart was beating out of his chest, getting more and more afraid that the violence wouldn’t end soon. He’d already gotten hit in the face once and he was rarely ever touched there because it would show. Eren tried to pull his arm loose but he didn’t have the strength. He tried to cry quietly, because being loud would only make it worse but there was only so much noise you could hold in when being so scared.

“Quit sobbing.”

When his father raised his hand again, hand knitted into a fist aiming directly at his head, Eren definitely thought he would die. This would be it. He could imagine the dent that would be left in his skull in the fist’s wake. He was in the corner of the room, nowhere to escape and no means to stop the incoming anguish. No one would know. No one would care. The world wouldn’t help him, he was alone in this, and it was too late. His heart skipped several beats with the realization, such an intense fear for his life welling up inside him that something, deep in his being, snapped.

“Stop!” Eren yelled desperately while closing his eyes and raising his one free arm, a futile last ditch effort.

The hit never came. Seconds passed by and as his father grunted, Eren slowly opened one eye, then the other. His father’s face was scrunched up in concentration, and the fist in midair trembled precariously. The fist had stopped, and instead the hand grasping him clenched.

Eren yelped helplessly. “No! Stop hurting me!”

It was like a miracle come true, but his father actually obeyed. The small boy watched in wonder and empowerment as his father released him and took two steps back to be out of his space. His father looked at him with contempt and… was that a smidge of unease? Eren had never felt such an enormous surge of power as he did right then. He had defied his father. Maybe that influential feeling of might was what made him speak his next words, his most innersome, unspoken, true wish. He just wanted it said once. His near death experience clouded his mind. He’d never been good with containing his emotions.

“I wish you would just die and leave me alone.”

The moment the words were spoken, his father mysteriously turned and disappeared out the bedroom door.

Eren remained by the wall, slowly sliding down and landing on his bum. He slid a hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat that had broken out after his reprieve. What happened just now? His father normally ignored every word that came out of his mouth while doing what he did. And oh god, why did he say that? He was sweating for real now, legs trembling against each other like unstable jelly.

Eren held his breath as heavy steps echoed down the hallway, growing louder again. His father returned into the room walking somewhat oddly, and Eren turned pale. But the large man didn’t even spare him a glance as he instead went over to the cabinet to the side. There was a key in his hand that he hadn’t had earlier. 

The odd behavior seemed to even have woken mom out of her feebleness, as Eren could see her peeking in from the doorway. She was quiet as per usual, and she cast a quick glance at Eren before flickering over to his father with an unreadable expression.

Father unlocked the cabinet and opened it slowly. His expression looked hysteric, an angry puffery red marrying his face. But then his hand brought out the shotgun, and all hell broke loose.

His father turned deathly pale, Eren started screaming in terror in the face of a horrifying new scenario and his mother finally found words as she shouted, “What are you doing!” in repeated fashions. It seemed to be the only thing she could come up with, again and again.

His father stepped back, flipping the gun, and then he started shouting too. “You’re a demon! You bastard fuckhead, what have you done! Devil! He’s the devil! Kill him! Do something!”

And then, there was a bang.  

The sound reverberated across the walls, and Eren had just managed to cover his ears in time. He began screaming for another reason now, because his father’s blood was on the wall, it wasn’t supposed to be on the wall and then the large body just fell back and… He was dead. He must’ve been dead.

His mom started screaming then too.

Eren's wish had come true.

And…

Eren didn’t remember much beyond that. He sat staring at a patch on the wall that was free of blood, not really comprehending what had just happened. Had his father obeyed him… or was being in his presence really that bad? 

The police were there, he thought, but he turned them away, feeling overwhelmed. Or they didn’t return, or whatever. What would he do now? He could barely comprehend the situation and whenever his mind slipped his eyes would return to the gruesome sight to his front-right. He grasped his hair with anxiety.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside the room. He could hear voices that informed him that people had entered the house again, which once again brought the fear back. He couldn’t really explain why, his main reason of fear was gone, but nonetheless—

The window to his left broke. 

Eren could barely snap his head in the direction of the splintering sound before his neck was hit with something. He let out a hiss and yanked it out, inspecting the little gray thing with a bright feather-like ending. He recognized it, he had seen the type of dart on the animal channels when they were put to sleep. What…? Just like that, he began feeling woozy. The edges of his vision blurred, and his movements became sluggish very fast. His tongue wouldn’t cooperate, he couldn’t scream for help. 

As Eren slowly met the ground, not feeling quite there, people in riot gear entered the scene. They communicated as if he weren’t there, and he couldn’t do anything to get their attention. 

Time passed in flashes. Somehow he found himself outside the house, and then in a van. He wasn’t really aware in the moment, but he could recall words in passing after some time, somewhat muffled. They called him a ‘Master’, but that wasn’t right, because that was a parahuman classification. Eren would know, because one of his favorite heroes from Los Angeles, Overling, was a Master. Mitras also had Masters in their division. Eren wasn’t a Master. Or was he? 

Eren’s head lolled to the side with a bump from the surface underneath him, and gentle hands helped him set it into a comfortable position again. He wanted to say thanks but his mouth still wouldn't cooperate. And there was something over and in it now, he tried to open his mouth absentmindedly but felt a faint resistance. He would have frowned if he could. Everything was happening too fast, he wasn’t able to register it with the dizziness. Time didn’t exist.

He jerked to attention in a chair. 

Eren must have lost time, because he couldn’t remember getting there, but now everything seemed crystal clear in a stark contrast to before. He had band-aids on his hands and arms, so someone must have treated him. As his breathing rate accelerated, his eyes flew up to scan his surroundings, and the two people who sat in front of him.

They had papers on the table between them and Eren and were looking at him with what Eren would call caution. It reminded him of his father’s gaze before he left the room and Eren’s breath hitched for a moment. The room was startlingly white, in a frightening kind of way. He was about to ask where he was, before his hands flew up to his mouth. He hadn’t imagined the resistance. He was wearing some kind of muzzle that prevented him from speaking. He couldn't get it off.

“Eren… Callahan? Is that correct?” a man with a dark crew cut asked. In a weird way he looked uncomfortable yet confident.

Oh, how Eren hated his father’s last name connecting to Eren’s name like that, rolling off that man’s mouth. The two men looked serious, making Eren’s hands tremble. He didn’t understand. Why weren’t they helping him? Alas, he couldn’t do much but nod hesitantly.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the other one, blonde-haired, asked in turn.

What a stupid question that was. Of course he didn’t know. Confusion soaring ever higher, the little boy kept quiet, reverting back to old habits. His deep green eyes flickered up and met those of the men but he didn’t dare hold their gazes for long. The lights above were steady, bright. Hiding nothing.

The men looked at each other. The dark haired one with shorter hair brought a finger up to his ear, waiting a few seconds, before putting it down again.

A beat went by. “Would you like to get out of that muzzle?” the same man asked, studying Eren intensely.

Eren would like that very much, so he nodded slowly. Yet, nothing happened in response. The air was still, the room quiet. The two men scrutinized him like they were trying to pick him apart, or waiting for something, but they didn’t move toward doing anything. Eren’s breaths out of his nose sounded very loud to his own ears.

The staring contest was broken as the blond-haired man looked up over Eren’s shoulder and shook his head. 

Eren twisted quickly to make sure that no one was behind him, but noticed that the man had been gesturing toward a camera. As he turned around to face the two men again they seemed to have relaxed significantly. Eren himself was feeling the opposite, squirming in discomfort with whispers of fear setting in, mingling in his blood. Neither of the two uniformed men made a move towards freeing him from the muzzle. He felt as if he’d just passed some kind of test.

The room was empty except for the table in the middle and the three people sitting around it, Eren on one side and the uniformed two on the other. 

Something was up, but Eren couldn’t decipher what. It felt like he was standing on a cliff about to fall, like things would change now. Good or bad, that was always the question. His mind went rogue and flickered back to images of the blood that would be forever etched into his brain, and Eren clenched the chair so hard with his fingers that they went white. His stomach was roiling and if he didn’t pay attention Eren was afraid that he would throw up on the table right in front of him.

The dark haired man was yet to offer up an introduction as he tapped the table with a pen, looking a bit analytical. “Now Eren, what do you know about your situation?” 

The man gestured to Eren’s side of the table where the boy promptly noticed a piece of paper and pens. Eren remained immobile, staring at the white sheet. He wouldn’t get to talk? That unnerved the boy even more, so much so that he looked up at the men with startled eyes. He had learned to expect nothing, but surely it couldn’t be like this? But he should have known. Every time hope flared up within him it somehow found some way to be completely squashed down.

Eren had to make a quick decision. He could succumb to the fear or he could do what he’d always done, put his head down and get through another day. He’d always had a drive within him to someday do whatever he could escape the fear, this was no different. This was just moving the goalposts to fit another problem. He’d get through it. If the memories of what he’d done had to have forts built around them, pushed to an insignificant corner of his mind, he’d do it.

The men once again turned briefly to each other, frustrating Eren in his newfound feelings of composure. The blonde one turned back to him and cleared his throat, as if he didn’t already have Eren’s full attention. “I’m going to assume you know little, then. We are currently working under the assumption that you had a trigger event last evening. Do you know about them?”

Most people connected to society knew about trigger events and what the ensuing result was, even if the details were a bit blurry to the public and a topic of great speculation. Eren had his suspicions since he overheard the talking but it still came as a bombshell. He sat quiet for a bit. Triggers meant powers. Triggers meant parahumans. Many supposedly had the potential, but…

“What happened last evening, from your perspective?” It was the dark one with the crew cut again. 

Eren looked at his hands, steeling himself before moving toward the paper. The pen felt weird in his grip, but he didn’t spend a long time writing. With his mind spinning, his capabilities had diminished to the more nicer parts of his mind. He turned the paper around.

‘WHO ARE YOU?’  

It was a clear bypass of the previous question, one Eren wasn’t really sure he could answer anyway. He probably could, but he didn’t like the conclusions he could draw from the answers. It was… horrifying, because in that case, Eren had done something terrible. But it was the right thing to do, a traitorous part of him revealed. Eren started sweating on his back and neck, afraid that the men would be able to read his questionable thoughts from looks alone. He had to get through this. There would be a sunrise in the future without fear.

“We are the Parahuman Response Team, PRT for short, we answer calls about people like you. A parahuman.”

It was shocking hearing the man spell it out so clearly for him. Parahuman. The formal word for what regular people often called ‘capes’. Everyone dreamed of having powers, being one of the big heroes that permeated every imaginable corner of social media, respected or feared depending on which side of justice you choose. Being a cape was a ticket to stardom, or at least everyone said so. So why was Eren feeling so miserable?

“You are here because you are deemed a potential threat to society.”

That jerked Eren to attention, already scrambling for the pen again. Whatever he’d expected the men to say next, it hadn’t been that. It was almost enough for a crack in the freshly made fort, but Eren numbly reinforced it while spelling out the three large letters under supervision of the uniformed PRT men.

‘WHY?’

Crew Cut started writing on a paper while Blonde leaned forward on his elbows. “We believe that your powers lend themselves to dubious use, of a strength previously unimaginable. The PRT thus uses its right of evaluation.”

Those were big words for grown ups. Eren wasn’t sure that he completely understood the implication. He wasn’t sure if Blonde meant for him to understand either. He started writing again as a new thought popped up in his brain. The boy frowned, feeling torn.

‘WHERE IS MY MOM?’

This made Blonde frown as well. He soon grew still, head tilted to the side. This went on for a while before he sat back in the chair and folded his hands together. “Your mom is unwell. She is well taken care of while we take care of you.”

Eren’s frown grew deeper, mulling over the answer. He was just about to reach for the pen for a follow up question when the scribbling that permeated the air stopped suddenly, Crew Cut taking a quick breath out of his nose. “Enough with your questions for now, we must move on.”

The men moved on to ask him more basic questions at that point which Eren could answer with ease. He was 10 years old. He went to East Shores Elementary. He’d lived in Mitras his entire life. He had a peanut allergy. Here he chimed in with a question about his epi-pens, as his teachers had drilled into him that he must have them near at all times. He hadn’t shown signs of powers before, no. He had no other relatives who he was in contact with. His grandmothers and grandfathers were dead.

“Did you have a hand in your fathers death?” Crew Cut then asked, like a bolt from the blue.

Eren had finally started to relax further, only to grow rigid yet again. In a split-second decision he decided to shake his head. Nothing good could come out of saying otherwise. He had to practise self-preservation with the unknown still clouding his path.

“First lie,” Blonde muttered, tiredly but not accusative, while bringing his hand up to his ear. Eren was starting to suspect that someone was talking with them from the outside.

The lungs in Eren’s chest seemed unable to string together a smooth breath as shaky puffs were the only thing he could achieve suddenly. He stood up and without being stopped, moved back to the wall behind him before sitting down against it and hugging his legs. He closed his eyes and imagined that he was out playing in the park. Part of it was him not knowing how to deal with the situation, and another part was him admittedly trying to obtain a time-out to collect himself once more. Sometimes if his father saw him as already down and broken, it would be enough for his satisfaction. He was aiming for the same here.

After a while he could hear the precious words being mumbled into the air. “I think we’re done for today.”

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They’d given him a room, wherever he was. It wasn’t so bad actually. The bed looked soft, a table with papers and coloring pens had grabbed his eyes and there were various toys in one corner. There was even one hero poster on the left wall, but that one looked quite lonely compared to the many Eren had in his own room.

The only thing that kept him from divulging in the things the room had to offer was the sound of the lock clicking in the door after closing behind him. It felt like giving in.

Eren remained on the bed, tracing a pattern in the bedspread. He felt so out of touch, so unsure of what his future entailed. He half expected someone to walk through the door and offer him a place on the hero squads, because that’s what usually happened when someone triggered right? Granted he was pretty young still, but that was what the Wards were for. He couldn’t help himself but hope, even if he knew better — again. He clenched his jaw and brought a heavy fist down on the fabric he sat on.

Sometime later, the door buzzed and in walked a young long-haired woman with a plate of steaming food. She sat it on the table and smiled toward him. She wore some kind of large headphones on her. When the woman began walking toward Eren he clenched the bed sheet but remained in position. The red haired woman actually reached behind him and fiddled a little with his muzzle until it released and she could remove it from him. 

“Thank you,” Eren whispered as he scooted off the bed and moved toward the table — his hunger overwriting everything else. He was absolutely starving. He sat down in the chair and looked at the plate. It looked like a stew that smelled delicious. “What is it?” he asked curiously, looking from the plate to the woman.

The red haired one only smiled awkwardly in return, like Eren used to do when he’d spaced out in a conversation or not caught what someone said properly. She couldn’t hear him.

“Oh,” Eren mumbled in realization. He sat lost in thought for a minute before starting to eat. The woman sat on his bed while he ate, looking around, and it evolved into a sort of companionable silence. 

When she later left with the plate she took the muzzle with her.

The next few days saw Eren fall into a strict routine. After breakfast the muzzle went on and he had a session with people who chipped away at his story. It seemed like they already had some info on him, because they used it to get him to expand on what he told — or rather, wrote to — them. He told them the awful things his father had said and done in short sentences — they had noticed his injuries — because now he didn’t fear retribution. It felt so good to finally speak the truth, despite the harm already being done.

They had a much harder time getting him to talk about his father’s death. Eren still feared this topic very much, but eventually they got to that too. They suggested that it may have been an accident, because trigger events were usually tied to chaotic circumstances and accidents could be excused in such situations. Under the slight pressure Eren had eventually nodded. Eren had wanted it to happen, but it had also been a complete accident. They hadn’t outright said what they believed Eren’s powers to be, but Eren knew that they knew. And Eren suspected things himself. Maybe… maybe, he could tell people to do things.

The other part of Eren’s routine was getting rid of the muzzle and spending time with Red, the name he’d given the red-haired woman who brought his meals. He'd taken to talk out loud whenever she was there. She couldn’t hear him of course, but it actually quelled his loneliness a lot. It was like imagining that he had a mute friend. He told her of some of the heroes he liked, and the names of villains they’d defeated. Gobsmacker was a famous one, if Eren remembered right he served a lifetime in the Deep, the underground prison for parahumans. Red only smiled at him. He believed she’d grown fond of him in such a short amount of time. A few times she happily pointed at drawings he’d made and taped to the wall.

Red also said ‘sorry’ sometimes with a sad expression and a hand on his shoulder, but Eren didn’t know why.

The brown haired boy’s routine came to an abrupt stop on day 6 due to random circumstances and it was all his fault.

Red had moved to point at one of his drawings again, this one he’d had to climb on the table to tape up so it was quite high up there, and in the process she bumped the headphones on her head. Eren flinched at the sound of the device hitting the floor, some parts breaking off and flying away. His green eyes flew up to her face, both startled at what had just happened.

Eren didn’t know why he did it, it was like a reflex. His one chance. He jumped up out of his chair, adrenaline rushing. “You have to help me get out of here!” he urged rapidly before the woman had time to do anything.

It was like a switch. Headphones forgotten, the woman moved towards the door like in a trance, and Eren slowly and cautiously followed. Just as the door opened an alarm began blaring, eliciting a yelp out of Eren. 

Red took no more than three steps out of the room before sounds echoed down the bright hallway. Eren had a bad feeling. His heart thundered, and he was about to follow her when she was tackled down to the floor heavily in front of him. Eren recognized the riot gear as the same ones he had seen in his house and began backing away, re-entering the room out of sudden fright.

The guard — was it a guard? — tilted his head a little to the side and Eren saw his own scared reflection on the tinted visor. The uniform was heavily armored with a variety of contraptions strapped to the belt and other crevices.

Red struggled on the floor, before she was taken out of his sight. Eren’s change of mind didn’t seem to change those of the uniformed men because they stormed into the room after him as Eren raised his hands in defense.

“No…” he protested, but they were obviously protected from his words. 

Two men grabbed his arms and forced him to lean against the bed as they forcefully put a muzzle on him again. The forcefulness hit close to home, and he was left in the room near tears.

That evening he got a reprimand from one of the staff members, probably someone in charge somewhere. He wasn’t supposed to use his powers like that on innocent people. Eren sat in shame and listened. But the welcoming thing was that he was also apologized to for the bullish treatment, which was a nice change. The man also made it clear that people were afraid of him and that he should be careful in the future.

Eren couldn’t fathom why people would be afraid of someone so little as him, but he nodded anyway.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Routines changed after that. Eren was mostly left alone, not counting the ones that were sent to keep him company. Sometimes he talked to deaf ears, sometimes someone spoke to him with the muzzle on his face. If Eren felt like it, he would write answers back. Some people called themselves counselors or psychiatrists and tried to get him to talk about the past months and how he felt, but he felt less inclined to share that now. 

It all seemed to build up to something. In passing, people had informed him that there was a ‘court date’ set. Eren still didn’t understand. He wouldn’t have to do anything but be in attendance, but he felt anxious anyway. It was a change waiting to happen. He felt less hopeful for change he had no control over now, as he’d realized he’d only gone from one prison to another with the previous one.

When the day came after some weeks, Eren was stuffed in a tiny suit. He was horrified, because it looked like the mini-version of what his father used to wear to work. Eren had never worn a suit before and it seemed uncomfortably unnatural.

Eyes followed him when he was escorted toward the supposedly large room in the large building after a trip by car. There seemed to be attendees from both sides present, whatever those sides were. Some people looked at him with barely held in fear, contempt or even hatred. Others looked worried for him, giving him soft looks. This was apparently a tightly supervised meeting, he’d been assured that none of it would appear on tv or in papers. Eren hadn’t even had that as a worry before he was informed.

Crew Cut walked beside him and he’d finally gotten a name on the guy — Bastian. They did not know each other exactly, but he was a familiar face in the crowd. After their sessions, Eren didn’t think of the guy as either good or bad. He was harsh, but fair. Straight to the point. In a world full of ugly surprises, Eren could appreciate that. As they sat down on the bench the little boy tried to emulate the stony face the man harbored. Survive to see a future fearless sunrise.

Eren had no idea of what to expect of court, or the negotiation meeting as they also called it, but his first impression was that there was a lot of shouting. Eren himself was wearing the muzzle again, so there’d be no talking from him, but he was rather glad about that now. Bastian however noticed the confused look on his face and leaned over.

“Court’s usually not this rowdy,” he gruffed, “but there’s a lot of moving parts in this. We’re probably gonna be here over a few days.”

Eren looked down on the small whiteboard in his lap. ‘DAYS?’ he wrote with a frown.

Bastian hummed just as the judge smashed the gavel into the hardwood block repeatedly. “Today is the custody battle. Your mother is unfit to take care of you, you know this, but she decided to go the distance.” The man regarded him silently. “She will lose though. There is too much evidence in your testimony and other records. She won’t escape charges of neglect.”

Eren nodded with grim features. He didn’t know what to feel. Time away from her had made him realize how tightly she was bound to the frustration and fear of his father, and it was nice to not have to deal with the anxiety of which mom he would wake up to meet in the mornings. But… she was his mom. It was one of the topics the psychiatrist had discussed with him briefly.

She did lose, and Eren was now technically an orphan. Bastian assured him that they had plans in place, and after this was all over he was to meet with a couple called the Jaegers and perhaps stay with them for a while.

Day two was even more rowdy, because now everything was about him and his powers. Eren, ironically, didn’t have much power at all in this. His powers were considered problematic, even more so because it was a power taking away freedom, in the country that was the land of the free. One aspect of it was that it had been figured out Eren couldn’t turn it off, the problem lied in that he could accidentally rob a shop just because he wanted a sandwich. That was on the small scale of things. The worry on a more larger level was that Eren could technically take over the world if left unchecked. All it could take was a whisper in a powerful person’s ear, or so he’d been told. Eren himself just wanted to live peacefully away from stress, but no one had asked him about it.

There were several factions in the room. The PRT that he was with was both his defender and accuser. They believed he should get to live a relatively normal life — with various precautions and conditions. The police and governmental representatives went so far as to argue that he should be imprisoned and withheld from the rest of society. There were two parahumans in another faction from an organization, Eren believed they were called PRO, the Parahuman Rights Organization. It was mandatory to contact them in parahuman legal matters.

Eren found himself siding with these two people, of course. They wanted him freed completely. Their argument included that aside from the accident at trigger point (which was rather the norm) Eren hadn’t actually committed an act of crime yet. The Police force and the government argued that he had broken the 1st Amendment the moment he’d used his power for the first time. That meant that he was a repeat offender.

There was a lot of talk about freedom and what it meant in essence. Eren’s testimony, what he’d told the PRT, was used both for and against him. It was a unique situation in that he wasn’t allowed to speak for himself for the sake of safety. Officers spoke up about the feeling of helplessness when he’d commanded them. The PRT informed that he could be neutralized by cutting off sound from the source or the recipient and that they could work with that for now. 

One person, Eren couldn't keep track of from which faction anymore, suggested a glossectomy, removal of the tongue, and that made Eren absolutely cold inside. The PRO-representatives protested vehemently against this and the gavel boomed again. 

They left day 2 without much progress.

 Eren hadn’t been worried at all in his previous ignorance but he definitely felt the feeling now. He would dream nightmares of people arguing for the removal of his tongue. Bastian must have noticed his stiffness because he nudged him as they were on their way back in the car.

“Don’t worry. They have no legal grounds to do those things to you. The PRT is an organization with influence and trust, as well as the primary overseer of parahumans. If we say we can handle you, they will listen.” Bastian looked out of the window. Maybe he wasn’t as tough as he seemed to want to be. Eren could see through it.

Eren nodded all the same though, not entirely convinced. He had a hard time putting trust in these people. One day they seemed to be working with him, the other day against him. 

“Although, with your power, there will be precautions made. I don’t know what my superiors have planned, but prepare yourself just in case. I don’t think you can go back to how it used to be entirely.”

Eren nipped at threads on his pans with his fingers as he hummed faintly into the damp muzzle. Suffer now, escape later. The sun will shine on a day that you’re at peace.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Look at him!” Eren shrunk down slightly against the backseat of the bench as a finger was thrust in his direction. “He is a child. He is not old enough to take responsibility with this type of power. And why should we let him? We cannot trust someone like that, period. It is a security risk, a significant risk of danger having someone like that unchecked, walking around in society. For God’s sake, he’s already had a hand in someone’s death! People who walk through walls, can grow fangs or claws, move at speeds unimaginable, hell, even summon the wildlife, we can deal with these people. But not this. He’s a—”

“A child.” The PRO representative cut off the government representative without abashment. “You said it yourselves. He is a child. A child needs safety and stability. What you’re suggesting is inhumane, the complete condemnation of an innocent. He can learn while growing. Parahumans have rights, and this is no different.”

“Of course they have rights. The Protectorate is a shining example and I’m sure even they wouldn’t let this boy within ten feet of their organization.”

Eren watched the back and forth like it was a tennis match. It was day 4, and all they were doing was talking in circles. One person said one thing, the other responded, on and on until they were back where they started without having solved a thing. Eren briefly wondered if he could just walk out without being noticed. He would save everyone a lot of trouble in addition to hastily moving up his time of escape.

Eren had almost decided to take the chance when the doors boomed open behind them. Eren looked over his shoulder as a short woman strided in, documents under her arm, looking controlled and serious. The arguing in the room rapidly quieted down, only the click-click-click of the woman's heels breaking through the silence. She oozed confidence, Eren thought.

The woman came to a stop after having cleared the length of the benches, joining the two men in the open space before the judge (more like a peacekeeper of the room, Eren mused). “Gentlemen,” she said, and Eren could already determine that it was someone with power.

“Director,” they both echoed, neither taking up the previous argument.

Bastian to the rescue. “Head Director Brzenska of North Eastern PRT Division. She oversees the directors of New York, Boston, Detroit, Baltimore, Washington D.C., Mitras and Philadelphia. She’s been following your case, making calls the past days. It’s more than likely that she’ll have the final word.”

Eren looked at the dark haired man with wide eyes before flicking his gaze back to the head director. She wore glasses and had ashen-colored hair. She looked neither young nor old.

The three sharks in the room surveyed each other.

“Gentlemen,” Brzenska repeated, “I have reviewed your arguments, and I believe there is a solution that, while might not leave you satisfied, can be deemed acceptable from all sides.”

Eren watched as the Mitras division of the PRT mumbled around him and leaned forward in interest and anticipation. The PRO representatives glanced at Eren himself before looking at each other. The government representative that had just been arguing for Eren’s imprisonment crossed his arms, expressionless. Perhaps this is what they’d all been waiting for, someone with enough power to take over the reins and could bring a passable end to the madness. Eren certainly had.

“There will be no imprisonment announced today,” the head director declared. The government representative opened his mouth to intervene but the director held up a finger. “However, I do agree and deem this situation too high-risk and precarious to just let go. We will go for a middle route, and this is what I propose.”

When the hammer met the table in a final decision after some discussions and negotiation, Eren officially received his verdict. He wasn’t given an invitation to the Wards of the Protectorate at all, no, what he was to receive was surveillance, a new language and therapy to keep him on the right path. There was a right to hurt him if he turned threatening. 

Constant surveillance to make sure he didn’t use his powers on people or did something bad.

He was ordered to learn sign language to be able to communicate without accidentally commanding someone. He was to use this mode of ‘talking’ while in public, and preferably in private too depending on the person.

Therapy to make sure that he kept his head on straight and didn’t turn trauma into villainhood. Not Eren’s words.

But hey, at least he would be able to find a home and not live in a cell. He would get to go back to school. As Eren walked beside Bastian to exit the courtroom he spotted a woman taking the hands of the departees before letting them go on their merry way. Eren frowned and looked up at Bastian questionably.

Bastian followed his previous gaze. “She’s parahuman. She’s removing the memories of your identity from the attendees, except for those who need to know. It’s to protect you in the future. There is a reason all those capes run around with masks and grandiose names while doing their work, you know.”

Eren dejectedly remembered that he himself would never get a ‘grandiose’ name or defeat villains.

In the future, Eren would think his feelings at present were ones of naivety. He would spend many ensuing years thinking over this particular day, particular moment, and all the things he lost with a boom of the hammer without understanding or having a single say in the matter.

Chapter Text

Eren, now 17 years old, walked into the high school cafeteria with a boxed salad in hand. He slowed his steps as he scanned the tables for the one familiar face he expected to find there. Ah, near the TV. Not wholly unexpected. The teenager's steps sped up again as he had a destination in mind. The large space echoed of cutlery, air buzzing with indistinguishable babbling and pungent teenage anxiety over friendships and mid-term exams.

Some gazes found him and followed his trajectory as he passed. Eren recognized the usual types — curiosity, discomfort, suspicion, even fear. None of these had to do with the hidden power that flowed through his veins, no, it probably had to do with the man tight on his heels. It didn’t even have to do with the man in particular, actually, just the fact that Eren was never alone. He was always accompanied by someone. Of course it wouldn’t be left alone and when teenagers had nothing to do… of course they speculated behind his back. 

No one knew about him, truly. They didn’t know the why of the escort. Most probably thought him selectively mute when he in reality itched to talk, banter, rage. They definitely didn’t know that he had the power to kill them without needing to lay a single hand on them. They would have run in the other direction otherwise. Oh, how he wanted to watch the expression on their faces as he turned their taunts on their heads and threw it back to them with a twist, a true puppetmaster. But he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. And well, he had in fact lied, there was one exception, the one who knew.

“Hi Eren!” The cheery voice of Armin met Eren as he put his box of salad down on the small table along with the sparkling water to get his hands free.

“Hi,” Eren signed, “nice morning?”

Armin expertly followed the movements of Eren’s hands and switched between them and his face. It was undoubtedly one of the reasons they had become friends from day 1 of high school. Armin’s grandfather was hard of hearing, explaining the blonde teenager’s fluency in sign language. The blonde had probably been the only person in school who’d understood him. Undeterred by Eren’s constant supervision and early sulkiness he’d slowly forced himself into every part of Eren’s life, uncovering his past, who he truly was, and what he really was. And he’d stayed. Eren stayed in turn. 

Theo Magath brushed past Eren, their eyes meeting. Their brief convergence was all that was needed for a short wordless exchange to take place. Cause no trouble, the brown ones said. You got it, boss. Just like every other day of every other year, the green ones responded, an undercurrent of resistance. Eren usually did as his guards suggested, but never wholeheartedly. An ugly creature inside him opposed the idea of giving in, of making it easy for them. Every thought of resistance felt good for him, it made it seem like they couldn’t fully control him, like he had some autonomy left for himself.

“Yep! Found my lost beanie after second period after we parted, and class was interesting.” Armin took a bite out of the lunch from the cafeteria and grimaged at the taste. There was a reason Eren had the foresight of bringing a salad with him today.

Eren held back from suggesting that the ‘lost’ beanie had probably been stolen and displaced by some of the douchebags they had the unfortunate pleasure of sharing school with. It had to be admitted: the two of them were on the low end of the pecking order of the school. Eren was just plain weird which made him an easy target and Armin was the stereotypic naive nerd. Eren had nothing against it, he couldn’t change who they were — organically, at least — but he recognized the truth in front of him. Didn’t matter though, Armin was all he needed. The problem was being left the fuck alone.

Magath took a place by the wall just a short distance away. The man kept it professional (as did all the guards) and never joined them at the table. Just so, Armin and Eren pretended they didn’t exist. Eren was sure that people wondered. He’d never explained and felt no need to. Magath wasn’t in his PRT uniform, it wouldn’t do to explicitly out Eren as parahuman like that. The guard wasn’t necessarily dressed casually though. It was, by all intents and purposes, an unidentifiable uniform. He needed some way to hide all the weapons under there after all.

Eren briefly eyed the hand that was close to the concealed stun gun at the guard's hip. It was an unfortunate fact that the boy and the weapon was aquaintenced, but Eren did have a hard time holding back from using his powers during intense moods. He wondered what else was under there, who else was listening. He knew they had contingency plans, probably encompassing several levels, when it came to him. 

Eren had heard rumors from the student body that his escorts were his translators for his sign language, but then again some of the students had accidentally heard Eren speak at times. Some thought that it was guards from a detention center and that Eren was a criminal. It was both true and untrue at the same time. 

“It’s good that you found it, I know you liked it.” Eren’s signing could probably be explained as chaotic. He liked to pick and mix between ASL and SEE, sometimes fingerspelling and sometimes using personalized signs that Armin and him had come up with for specific things. He used sloppy motor skills for the people he didn’t respect, and signed properly and formally for those he did. If most people knew sign language they would probably call Eren a little shit. Unjustifiably, of course.

However, watching Eren and Armin communicate was like watching a whole nother language by itself. They were wholeheartedly on the same wavelength. Armin would switch over to sign language himself every once in a while, the two of them in their own little world.

Eren smiled to himself as Armin’s face presented yet another fine example of a grimage.

“Hey, what are you smiling like that for?” Armin groused, but not before breaking out in smiles himself.

“It looks as disgusting as it probably tastes,” Eren informed with a look of disgust. The stew could barely be called a stew. It looked more like sludge, or what you would find in a witch’s cauldron. 

Armin looked down at his plate with puppy eyes and a drooping lip. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

Eren put on a grin and tapped Armin’s arm to once again get his attention before signing. He held his left hand up steady with the palm towards himself before brushing the underside of his right hand, his right pinky, along the index finger up to the thumb and then back again. Share. He slid his salad to rest between them and gestured to it.

“Really?” Armin said with raised eyebrows.

Eren hummed back in his throat, as close to a verbal yes as he dared under supervision in a crowded public space before digging in. 

Armin glowed as he took his fork and impaled a piece of chicken with it. “You’re the best.”

They ate in silence while absentmindedly listening to the TV close by. They sat close to the corner of the room, probably why the table close to the TV wasn’t more popular by choice. The popular kids made their worth in the center of the room, which likewise also served as the center of attention. It was absolutely fine, Armin and Eren liked their dose of the news together with sustenance and relative quiet.

Suddenly Armin snapped his head up toward the television which made Eren zone in on what was being said. He also raised his head to focus his gaze on the local news anchor.

“NBC Mitras News can now report that a significant raid on a basement in northwest Mitras has revealed that stolen Tinker tech has made its way into the underbelly of the city. It is believed that this is a sign that the Tinker tech black market that has been an unyielding bane to society has at last arrived and is presently operating even in Mitras. The Chief Officer of the Mitras Police Force and PRT representatives will give a joint statement at 3 PM this afternoon.”

Armin turned to him again and shook his head. “Tinker tech in Mitras? There's no doubt that there is more of that coming in that case. The Protectorate and the PRT will be up to their neck with work. Tinker tech which has left the supervision of their owners is a bad, bad thing. Did you see the news from Tulsa last week? A whole neighborhood block was affected by stolen Tinker tech from a soundwave specialist.”

Eren hummed in thought. Tinker was another one of the twelve parahuman classifications just like Eren’s Master-class. They stuck out like a sore thumb from the fact that their ‘superpower’ was to build stuff, not something thought of as inherently super at all. Lame, one might think, but their real power lay in the fact that within their specialty they could build tech that exceeded anything normal science today could produce. A gun that could warp time and space with its projectiles? Yeah, those existed now. The limitations of Tinker tech was that a Tinker was highly specialized, meaning they could not build whatever they wanted. The second thing was that a Tinker’s tech could not be reproduced by anyone or anything but the Tinker themselves, thus creating the very elusive black market of stolen tech.

“It has been uncharacteristically quiet in Mitras lately though, don’t you think?” Eren’s hand moved in languid pace, not fully believing that Mitras was on the track to become a Tinker-tech hub.

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Those who have tech will be more careful and aggressive regarding their possessions now and the gangs who weren't in the know, now know that Tinker tech is within reach in Mitras. I think it’ll only get worse from here on out, the playboard is set and if I was one of the villains, well, who wouldn’t want superior tech to bolster their arsenal? I think the Protectorate has an approaching multi-gang war on their hands, and they’re going to be in the thick of it.”

Eren’s mood soured with the mention of the Protectorate. In a different universe he’d be out there now with the rest of the good capes, fighting crime and making the world a better place. That right had been taken from him. In its place sat a mild contempt for the heroes borne from grave jealousy.

The reportage continued on the television. It had switched over to show a foggy clip of a big burly form dashing into a group of armed men. Chad Hatter, if Eren was correct. One of the more noticeable heroes with the Protectorate. Sure, he was bitter, but that didn’t mean that Eren didn’t follow the events of the parahuman happenings in Mitras. Besides, Armin was a fan.

“Good thing that we’re not involved in that case, sounds like a bloodbath waiting to happen,” Eren signed with an accompanying sigh. He feigned indifference but inside, his heart was ablaze.

Armin gave him a side eye, one which Eren could read from a mile away, as clear as day. The brown-haired boy shifted his hands so that Armin was screening them from Magath. He began a rapid firing of signs. “No, you know I can’t. Don’t look like that.”

Armin tilted his head, confirming that the conversation was kept between the two of them. Then he righted himself and began signing himself. “I know. But—”

Eren did the rude thing of interrupting a signing sequence in action with a frustrated facial expression. “No buts. They have all eyes on me, I wouldn’t get away with trying to join the fray. We don’t know the lengths they would go. Forget it.”

Armin's hands slowed, signs left hanging precariously in the air. 

Armin had this grand vision that Eren could do a lot of good with his power. Eren himself didn’t really know. Ignoring the whole problem of the ever overseeing PRT, Eren wasn’t sure that it was possible to be a good person with his kind of power. He’d made people do disgusting things to themselves when he snapped or been put in a corner, and he’d enjoyed himself. His power was a dangerous addiction and it was too nice to not be told no when requesting things. But Eren was in control. It was one of the more frustrating things of being under the watchful eyes of the PRT. They handled him like a bomb even when Eren could do just fine on his own. It wasn’t as if he’d suddenly go running around killing people. He just wanted to be able to do stuff, damnit.

Armin hummed and picked up a bit of tomato dipped in curry-sauce to chew on. He hadn’t been convinced. 

Eren took a frustrated bite himself. He wanted to believe Armin, he really did, but the boy did a lot of suggesting without actually coming with ideas and solutions. The first order of business would be to actually escape house arrest or the constant supervision for an hour or two so Eren could roam free. They had some ideas there as a matter of fact, but they’ve yet to be put into action. It had to be safe or Eren could get hurt.

Eren was forced to put a lid on his sudden rage so that it wouldn’t spill over. He hadn’t asked for this. He hadn’t asked for any of this. The same still applied: adapt, survive, and wait for the opportune moment to strike. He’d escape this prison one way or another, he’d not let himself be silenced for eternity.

A familiar sound echoing throughout the cafeteria was enough for Eren to turn his attention elsewhere. He looked over at the people entering through the double doors across the large room with a frown. He whipped around and poked Armin’s arm, who was just about to scrape the last of the salad from the box.

“Trouble at 9 o’clock. We need to book it.”

Armin threw an alarmed look to the left, where Jean together with a few familiar faces made their way through the crowd. “Eren…” he said slowly, “what have you done?”

Eren tightened his mouth. He held a careful gaze on the group who’d have yet to spot them as he signed to Armin. “Nothing much. Just a little revenge for what they did to us last week. You know me. Couldn’t let it go.”

Armin groaned as he stood up and pulled Eren up with him with a firm grip. “No powers at least?” he whispered as they both grabbed their backpacks and began a rapid pace towards the back doors, salad and trash being left behind and abandoned as a necessary sacrifice to make a painless exit. Magath followed at a more discreet pace, having enough respect to leave the two boys to their private conversation without interrupting.

Heads close together and mouths shielded by their bodies, Eren forgot himself and allowed a few spoken words himself in their haste. “No, no powers! Not that they’ve been much help lately, didn’t work earlier this week.”

“Eren!” Armin hissed, looking behind them briefly. If he meant the spoken words or the information they held, Eren could not determine. Eren decided on the latter anyway.

“It doesn’t matter as it didn’t work. And guards found out anyway,” Eren signed swiftly before opening the back door, allowing the two students to slip through.

It was a frustrating thing for him. Sometimes his powers worked on a person and sometimes they didn’t. It wasn’t necessarily the person either as he’d a few times been able to command a person at a later time after the first attempt. It was only on rare occasions he could use his powers, so he’d never figured out the secret of why that was. It was on the list of things Armin and Eren worked on in their spare times, during those controlled private hours Eren could get for good behavior. His stunt earlier this week assured that those hours would probably be nulled this week. He should have been sneakier.

“Fiddlesticks, Eren, fiddlesticks!” Armin huffed as their shins burned with the weird powerwalk. Hearing the Armin-trademarked words almost made Eren snort. “Were you discreet with this latest thing at least? Can it be tracked back to us?” 

They reached the stairs to the third floor, only a couple more floors to the school roof where Eren and Armin made their base of operations. It was a good choice because the roof was a dead end, which meant that the more reasonable guards would be content to stand inside, leaving Eren and Armin to their devices. By now most trusted Eren with Armin and considered him on level with Eren’s family, not deeming it a risk that he’d command the blonde. They were right, Eren would never.

Eren’s brow scrunched up, together with his lips. “I honestly can’t guarantee it won’t,” Eren responded sheepishly.

Armin groaned, but the two stayed as united as ever as they made their way up top, where they would remain hidden the rest of the lunch break.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Eren knocked on the door politely before opening it as a bright voice responded. He did a double take as the familiar squeak of the door hinges was mysteriously absent. He gave it a peculiar look as he closed it and made his way into the room and towards his usual spot on the sofa.

The room was designed with openness in mind; the decor and furniture all on the warm side of the spectrum and the bookshelves in the corner supposed to give a comfortable and homey feeling. Or so he’d read. It was supposed to make clients talk at least. 

Eren took a few steps on the deep blue carpet before plopping down on the beige couch with fluffy blue pillows. His psychologist, Nanaba Zacharias, already sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table, her features radiating calm as always. Eren put his backpack down beside him before beginning to sign. “Door fixed?” With people who didn’t get to often practice their ASL, he liked to keep his signs few and easy to understand.

“You are free to speak, Eren. This is a safe space. But yes, I did get that fixed, finally.” Nanaba gave the door a brief smile before turning her attention on Eren again.

“Oh shit, right, but yeah, cool.” Eren’s eyes dropped down to the coffee table, noticing yet another change. He flicked two index fingers forward, pointing at the object. “Plant,” he noted and tilted his head. “You’ve been busy since last time.” Which was at the end of last week, actually. Eren was required to regularly visit with his psychologists.

Nanaba put her left leg over her right, leaning back in her armchair, a notebook propped up on her arm. This was routine by now, none of the two in the room needed to officially start the meeting as it came naturally. 

“Change can be good in the right measures, don’t you think?”

Damn, Eren had totally walked into that one, hadn’t he? He shrugged noncommittally. “I guess.”

Eren’s relationship with change was a tricky one. It was all he craved, yet it had only bit him in the ass before. The only stark positivity he could draw from it was gaining his second family, but… yeah. Even that was borne from the more complex complications of change. Lost in thought, Eren watched the sunbeams stream through the thin curtains, the material fluttering from the small breeze coming in from the open window. 

Nanaba observed him silently, but when he offered no continuation she changed topic, instead going on the more straightforward path. “I got a report from a few days ago, one of your accompanying officers witnessed you trying to use your command on a student. Do you want to tell me what brought that on?”

Eren turned his gaze to focus on Dr. Zacharias with a resigned breath. “It’s not that different from all the other times. Some new guy tried to get in the others’ good graces and take a shot at Armin, so I told him to eat dirt. I suspect your report also said that I failed?”

Nanaba hummed and tilted her head. “That it did. But it is the intention of the action that the PRT is worried about.”

“Aren’t they always?” Eren muttered, still beating himself over not being discreet enough or succeeding.

“That may be the case, but we’ve talked about this, Eren. Just because you have the power to impose your will on someone, doesn’t mean that you should use it for revenge. What did you feel in that moment when the boy insulted your friend?”

Eren’s jaw ticked. “Anger. Like… I wanted to hurt that guy. It was such an unnecessary comment intended to do harm. So I wanted to return the favor.”

Nanaba nodded, leaning back and writing something in her notebook. “I want you to step out of your shoes for a moment. Imagine you are that boy, ignoring the hurtful comments for a second. Imagine that you were successful in your attempt, and that this boy now had no choice but to literally eat dirt. Not just putting it in his mouth, but eating it. How would you feel?”

Eren took a shaky breath, but humored her and thought about it. He imagined himself being put in the proposed situation. “I’d feel… scared shitless, probably. Powerless. Not understanding what was happening. Panicked. Disgusted.”

Scribbles permeated the air. “That’s good. And now I’m going to ask you an honest question. It is not an accusation, not intended to attack you in any way. Just think about it, alright?”

Eren nodded and fiddled with his fingers.

“Is that the kind of person you want to be? One who inflicts those feelings?”

The breath inside his lungs stuttered for a second, because the first thing that rang inside his head was how he didn’t want to become like his father. “No,” Eren managed to get out in a relatively stable manner, “I don’t.” 

Nanaba smiled at him, always a supportive and reassuring presence. “Then, to expand on those thoughts, what would a non-powered individual have done in your stead? In a perfect world, that is.”

Eren scratched his neck. “I mean, probably gone to a teacher or the principal’s office or something like that, but you don’t understand… When I get like that, there’s nothing stopping me. Reporting it to staff wouldn’t have been first, second or even third on my list in those moments.”

“We’ll keep working on it,” Nanaba reassured him. “The first step is recognizing that it is an option. Change doesn’t have to happen in a day Eren, sometimes it is enough to take very small steps, or even some steps backwards once in a while. Life is a crooked path, after all.”

“It certainly is,” Eren mumbled as an answer.

Maybe it was crooked for the average person. In that case, his path was a fucking zig-zag labyrinth decorated with bear traps, fallen logs, sinkholes, dead ends and whatever further obstacles there were. 

They took a small break, fetching a glass of water for Eren as his throat was starting to feel a little scratchy with disuse. Eren sipped quietly as the both of them took their usual places again.

Eren liked Nanaba. He’d had a few psychologists and psychiatrists since that first year and this definitely felt right. He had an easy time of noticing when someone was there for him or when they were there for the intrigue, the self-indulgence or the possibility to study him. They were of course vetoed by the PRT first though. Being the shrink of an unstable parahuman required certain merits, as well as to be able to keep your mouth shut. The thought that they’d had a Thinker remove the memories of him from his previous therapists was not out of the realm of possibility.

Nanaba settled with a cup of tea on the table between them. “Now, how is home life, Eren? You may be tired of that question, but I still feel like I have to ask.”

Eren put his water down and inclined his head, a slightly troubled expression on his face. “It’s going well. Mom and dad are planning on doing something special with all of us on the adoption anniversary in a few months, which I’m looking forward to. Mom is on a business trip right now, and…” Eren picked up his glass again, feeling better with having his hands doing something. 

There was a comfortable silence between them as Eren chose his next words. Nanaba was perceptive, she held a steady quiet as she let Eren collect his thoughts. It was always hard revealing new things about himself. 

He ended up shrugging. “I don’t know. I have this feeling that— no. I have a, um, a fear? Like every time one or both of them are away, something bad is going to happen. Like I’m afraid that they're going to die or get in trouble when I’m not there. I finally got it right this time, I can’t lose them. It’s getting hard. I check my phone all the time, and it’s always a relief when I get a text or something, just so I know that everything is alright and that I don’t have to worry at that particular moment. Meanwhile, mom is probably sitting in a meeting with all those other finance folks…”

Eren let out a huff, a breathy exhale, an almost laugh. “I don’t know. Probably because of my shitty childhood.” He tried to infuse the sentence with humor to escape the awkwardness, but it fell flat on his ears. He held in a wince as he trailed the rim of the glass with one hand.

“You have a fear of abandonment,” Nanaba informed with a sad smile. “It’s not a far-fetched theory at all. We are very impressionable in our youth and sometimes, things happen to destabilize our development or sense of wellbeing. Traumatic experiences, for example, can leave a mark as we grow up and can then introduce itself in other forms, like the fear you speak about.”

Eren nodded grimly. He could think of quite a few marks. He’d thought he’d eliminated the fear, but it kept sneaking into his life, relentless and uncompromising. 

“Your father — first father — was not a good parental figure. But it was still a loss for you. In the same chain of events, you effectively lost your mother. You were 10 years old. It is going to stay with you, and in my professional opinion you did not get the support you needed as fast as you needed. But you’re here now, we will work on this, and I’m glad you shared this hardship with me.”

Eren could feel a lump in his throat. “I just— I don't understand. Why is he still affecting me like this? He has been gone now for so many years, and he still keeps slipping into my life like a ghost trailing behind me. I hate him. I really do.”

Yet, Eren could not determine if he really meant it or not. The feelings about his father’s death had shifted and evolved over the years. Sometimes it presented itself as guilt, sometimes as frustration that the man was dead and not serving time in prison. Ever so rarely, he wished the man was alive just so he could yell out all his feelings and rage at the man’s face. Even more rarely, Eren wanted the man alive just so he could ask why he did the things he’d done. Had he meant every word? Every hit? Devil, he’s the devil.

Eren sighed, putting the glass down and gripping his forearms.

They talked on this topic for quite a while, trying to map out Eren’s feelings. He didn’t feel like he made much progress on that front. He had tried so hard, to distance himself from his old family. The moment Grisha and Carla Jaeger tentatively and carefully asked him if he’d like their surname, he’d said yes in a heartbeat. He had dropped Callahan so hard and so fast that it’d made a heavy thud when it landed. He left it where it was lying, somewhere out in the world collecting dust. Now it felt like a severe case of escapism that was catching up with him.

It was with Nanaba’s help that he was carefully able to piece himself together again.

“The anniversary is coming up soon, too,” Eren muttered with a hand under his chin.

She knew what he was talking about. It was probably why his emotions were acting up as well. In two weeks time, it would be 7 years since Eren had accidentally caused his abusive father to kill himself.

“What do you feel about this event?”

“A sort of… nothingness. Numbness. Every year I say I won’t do anything special on that day, and every year I scrape through that day while holding my breath. It’s like a big soup of emotions. I feel relief, I feel guilt, then anger, and then sadness and I don’t really know why.”

The scribbles stopped as Nanaba leaned back. “I know we’ve covered this plenty of times in our time together, but it bears repeating that you don’t have to choose one of those emotions to feel. They are all an important part of dealing and understanding your trauma.”

Trauma. Eren still didn’t know if he was worthy of that word, seeing as he was the root cause of the implosion that the supposed trauma stemmed from. He knew he shouldn’t, but he held the inner conflict to himself as they continued to untangle the yarn that was his emotions regarding his fathers death.

Relief — his father had been a large focal point of the fear he harbored as a child. With his father gone, the relief was admittedly immense. On some level he was glad of what he’d done.

Guilt — an unfortunate byproduct of said relief. Everytime someone — maybe an old company colleague of his father’s — gave their condolences, another piece of guilt joined the other ones. Guilt over his actions from his trigger event. Even if he’d not even touched the man, the red was still in his ledger.

Anger — that it’d had to come to this. That his life sucked. That he’d triggered at all. It was all his fathers fault. He deserved worse than what he’d got (now see, here is where his emotions made U-turn back to guilt again before circling back). 

Sadness — this one Nanaba had to explain to him several times with his own help. Maybe, just maybe, he was grieving the father-son relationship they’d never had. Eren was a hopeful kind of person sometimes (hell, his future plans relied heavily on hope), somewhere deep inside he must have had a hope that the situation at hand had been temporary, that they’d be able to see eye to eye and live happily. Well, now he’d never know. Guilt guilt guilt—

“This was a large step forward, Eren. This is progress—” Eren was about to interrupt, but Nanaba put her index fingers up in a warning, “Yes, I mean that. We’ve only scraped the surface, but with time and understanding we will get to the root of all this. I know that this is a delicate situation, what with the PRT and all, but aside from their demands we are taking steps forward. It has the possibility of making your mental wellbeing in the long run better, as well as pleasing them. It is not ideal, and your power is a tricky one to live with, I understand that, but I’m proud of you.”

Eren smiled shyly. At least there was one in the world. “Thank you Nanaba. I appreciate this, even with all the obstacles.”

Yes, the PRT was dipping their hands into this too. Nanaba did what she could, she had an obligation to both him and the PRT and those were difficult to manage together. Eren’s mental health was one thing, but she also had a responsibility of helping them ‘right the ship’ when he’d used his powers. Maybe Eren wasn’t so happy about that, but he could understand where they were coming from. However, sometimes it went overboard. The PRT was so sure that he’d turn into a villian if left alone. It’s why they did all this.

“And last thing, perhaps you should think about a visit to your old father’s grave after all this time? It may be an important step in healing.”

“Mm, maybe,” Eren answered absently.

In their path to righteousness the PRT had lost themselves. It may have started as a way to control that which they had not known. Now, it was prejudgement. No, not even that, it was judgment. 

Now, they were making an enemy. They were doing this for nothing, nothing except nipping a potential problem before it even had the chance to sprout. Eren wouldn’t sprout. Despite slipping a few times, he would be fine without their involvement. They just couldn’t help themselves, and they had society and high powers on their side in a conflict. It was all born from fear. Eren fucking hated fear. Sometimes he was so, oh so close, to just let go and let his powers do the speaking. He’d never fear again. 

Too much risk. And then… perhaps it was wrong of him. Yes, being able to control people was freaky, an abnormality in a society of abnormalities. But he’d been given this gift (or curse) for a reason. Was he to just not use it? For now, that seemed to be the case. The PRT was showing no signs of planning to let him go.

Oh, how they must have been dying inside when they had to come to him for help.

Chapter Text

Mitras was a large city. Make no mistake, New York was still the giant on the playing field, but oh boy had that place ever had its troubles since parahumans started to pop up in the world. Still, Mitras was a contender in the field of metropolises. With its bustling nightlife, opportunities and grand scale, people flocked here. 

Being a coastal city had its perks. The tourism, not so much, maybe, but Eren had heard that it brought in money at the very least. There was so much to do in the city, but being called the City of Ideals came with that territory. Eren liked the coast best though. The water had a calming effect on him. He liked to go there on his bad days. But back to the topic, there truly was something for anyone. The old parts of the city tickled the minds of historians and philosophers, for the avid sports fan there were plenty of sports keeping you entertained all year long, if you owned a boat — great, shopping drew people downtown more often than not, and so on and so on. Ah, he hadn't even mentioned the parks yet. Also 10 stars out of 10 stars.

But as with all things, the City of Ideals also had its bad side. Perhaps not as visible as various other places, but Armin was unwavering in his conviction that that in particular was about to change. As with all cities who had a notable parahuman population (even if they were vastly outnumbered by the non-powered), there tended to be a divide amongst powered individuals. You of course had the Protectorate, perhaps the most favored and best viewed of all capes. They were powered heroes who had agreed to live by specific rules in order to be able to go out and smack the ever living shit out of people. Okay, perhaps an overstatement on his part. There was funding and PR involved, and these people were necessary to keep other parahumans in check. Besides, at least from reading various forums on the internet, being a hero was expensive. Better need some of that monetary help, right? Right.

At the end of the day, the problem with parahumans was how they came into being. Only a severe or troubling traumatic experience could cause a trigger event, if one even had the potential at all. The result? Parahumans was perhaps not the most stable of the bunch. It was an unfortunate truth — the heroes were outnumbered. It was a tragic fact that many people who came into powers were troubled individuals who turned to crime with what they gained. 

There were neutrals, those who tried to do the whole ‘live a normal life despite powers’ schtick. Kudos to them, if they could live with the harassment. Guess what, if people found out you had the power to help and weren’t helping? Well, people turned into swines. Let’s just say that there weren’t many neutrals left.

Then you have the rogue crews. Ranged from good people to the vigilante types. Lived by their own rules, basically. Were usually left alone by the PRT if intentions and actions were agreeable.

When Eren talked about the bad side, he meant the villains. It was a desperate attempt by society to make sense of the world, using the word ‘villain’ as if this was a comic book. It was frighteningly real. And really, Eren was truly talking about the gangs. It turns out, people with similar ideals and with superpowers had a tendency to seek out each other.

What did they want? Not clear. How far were they prepared to go? He probably didn’t want to know.

It had been quiet in Mitras for a while. The occasional turf conflict here and there had made its way into the media, but otherwise the gangs must have kept it all under pretty tight wraps.  

It was probably why every inhabitant of Mitras was glued with surprise to their television and watching a disaster occur in real time. Eren and Armin were no different, even if the latter had been frighteningly accurate in his prediction.

Armin paced anxiously in the room as Eren had his gaze fixed on the news on the TV, sitting on his bed. The brown-haired boy traced the headline again, dumbfounded at how fast it had all gone to shit.

PROTECTORATE INVOLVED IN HOSTAGE SITUATION AT DOCK WAREHOUSE, SITUATION IN DEADLOCK

Had this been a normal situation people would be able to sleep soundly with the knowledge that the Mitras Protectorate capes would have the situation handled. They were many and powerful. But… What do you do when it’s your heroes who are the situation? The information was scarce at this time. The current report was that it was at least a three way impasse with the Protectorate, the Junkyard Aces and a mysterious third party involved. Perhaps more.

The Protectorate was not winning. They were stuck. There had been casualties, rumors on social media said. 

Both Armin and Eren’s heads snapped up as the visuals on the television changed with new information.

“We can now confirm that there are civilians involved in the rapidly escalating situation at Ferry Street, first reported by…”

“Oh… frick,” Armin breathed as he again clambered up on the bed with Eren and grabbed his arm. “This is so bad. So bad. They must have been helping with something and been ambushed. Do you see that?”

Armin pointed at the footage shown on the screen, probably taken by a helicopter as it circled the large property. Eren tried to see what Armin meant, but remained none the wiser. He eventually shook his head.

“They are boxed in. The building resides against a cliffside, you can only approach it from in front. And see that? Police and PRT forces are already there, but so are some of the opposing capes it looks like. There’s fire, and it looks like a battleground. If there is a battle going on inside, there is one outside too. Nothing’s working. The Protectorate cannot get out without risking further lives, and the forces outside cannot safely enter.”

“And they won’t send out the Wards…” Eren mumbled, dread building up inside.

“That’s right, they would never send minors to this when they suspect that someone has been killed. They probably cannot get other cities’ Protectorate capes here fast enough, if they would even be available. We don’t know what’s even going on in there. The Protectorate and the Junkyard Aces are definitely on different sides in this, but what about the third party? Who are they? What do they want? God, something like this has never happened in Mitras…”

Armin got up to pace again.

Eren rubbed his forearms with a frown, a chill finding a home in his body. Personal feelings aside, he was worried. The Protectorate was needed. It was a necessary force against the unchecked powers of unpredictable individuals. If they were to run amok, no one could predict the outcome. The Protectorate were no fools, what had gone wrong for this to happen?

They couldn’t have been at the television for long, it was just dumb luck that the news was used as background noise while playing board games. A forgotten game of Ticket to Ride was laying abandoned on the table in the corner of Eren’s room, red and blue plastic trains spread all over the surface as they’d been spilled when Armin bumped the table in his haste to stand. Two plates of consumed junk food laid to the side, a rarity Armin and Eren indulged in when both of his parents were away.

The evening had been so good, until the atmosphere was destroyed with a simple headline. Eren would be bitter about that, but now was not really the time and Armin wouldn’t feel better by him complaining. Armin was an anxious person, and with him being a fan of the heroes, this was a nightmare.

Eren was still following the reportage with no new updates as Armin stopped at the window.

“Uh, Eren..?” The blonde had suddenly gone rigid.

“Yeah?” Eren responded carefully, glad that they were guard-free, meaning that he could answer quickly and without the obstacle of needing his hands.

“Eren, what have you done? Have you used your powers recklessly lately?” Armin started rambling, and Eren quickly stood up from the bed, alarmed.

“No! I have more control than that. What is it?” Eren moved toward Armin, the sudden fright of the light-haired one contaminating the air.

“Have you accidently set off the alarms? Gone out when you shouldn't?”

Eren stopped for a second, thinking through his previous actions. But no. He spared the window edge a look, but the device that would alert the PRT of a possible ‘escape’ was untouched. “No, Armin, I swear. Now please tell me—”

“Look!” Armin exclaimed and pointed out of the window.

Eren surged forward and looked out of the window discreetly, watching as several black SUVs rolled up ominously to the curb. It would have been funny, how government organizations all use the same type of cars, if it didn’t give Eren a heart attack. Eren was on his toes immediately. It only took one PRT official to start making his way out of one of the cars for Eren to flung his way out of view from the window. Thankfully, they were up on the second floor.

“Shit!” Eren proclaimed and started to wiggle out of his pajamas while halfway down on the floor and into a more appropriate clothing to greet PRT officials with. Not just his guards either, this seemed like a whole entourage. He couldn’t remember that happening, ever. “Shit, shit!”  

“Oh my God, this just keeps getting worse,” Armin muttered and helped Eren get a hoodie over his head. After a few precious milliseconds Eren’s head popped out on the other side.

They both looked at the logo at the front as the material was straightened out. It was an amusing sketch of the planet Saturn, with the humorous pun ‘Lord of the Rings’ beneath. Eren’s brain short circuited with a surge of internal panic for a second, as did Armin’s, it seemed. They both seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time.

“Ah, good enough.”

“It’s good enough.”

A fire was lit under both their asses then, as the PRT people were surely on their way up the porch by now. They took the steps of the stairs down to the first floor two by two, and Eren just briefly contemplated falling on his head to get out of whatever shitstorm, whatever accusation the PRT had now conjured up about him. Maybe they had finally changed their minds and were coming to take him to the Deep.

“Remember, they have nothing on you at this time. And don’t talk! Don’t give them a reason to get testy,” Armin huffed as they boomed down the stairs.

“Got it, got it,” Eren’s hands said, Eren himself already switching language mindset in his head to be ready. 

The knock sounded as they stepped into the hallway. Eren had no intention of letting them wait for long. Armin remained deeper into the hall as Eren darted forward and promptly opened the door like the ripping of a bandaid.

Magath stood on the other side, flanked by other PRT staff, which surprised Eren. No guns were pointed at him at least, which made him relax his shoulders a bit. The cool air made its way into the hallway, making Eren stubbornly suppress a chill. Don’t show weakness in front of these people.

“Magath,” Eren greeted, like it wasn’t supposed to be a free night for him without supervision. 

“Jaeger.” Magath inclined his head. “You have been summoned to the PRT compound.”

Eren gripped the door harder, confusion washing over him. They were being a lot more respectful than he’d anticipated. Him and the PRT had a complex relationship, after all. He let go of the door out of necessity. “Can I ask why?” Eren asked with slow movements to get his doubt across, prodding the atmosphere and how agreeable they were being. Eren had a strong feeling he would end up where they told him tonight anyway.

“We have no time. This is a delicate request, and time is of the essence. You will get more information during the trip, but know that this could save lives,” Magath responded with those ever steely eyes. Eren had a theory that Magath was some sort of combat veteran, but he had no evidence to support it other than inklings. The older man’s eyes flicked up at Armin, and yeah, that must have been the reason they were careful with information. Civilian.

Eren took a deep breath. Okay, those last words of Magath had surprised him. “Alright,” he decided, trying to remain indifferent, unbothered. Not that he had much choice anyway. It would benefit him long term if he remained in the PRT’s good graces, and the many cars and people at Magath’s back intimidated him. He turned back to Armin briefly and signed a hidden circle with his hand by touching his fingers to his thumb. It was the sign for o, an agreed upon hidden message that meant that things were okay. 

Armin flashed the sign back in a quick motion, although his expression held traces of a frown.

It was best not to say more, and Eren’s hands were unmoving as he put on a pair of shoes.

Eren then moved forward into the dying light of the day, prompting the PRT personnel to turn around and march toward their respective cars. Eren needed no cue to start following Magath, he knew none of the others and he was not about to go trusting strangers. It was late enough for dew to coat the grass, which transferred over to Eren’s boots as he walked across it.

Eren was on edge. This was a stark break in the routine he and the PRT had created for themselves. Unless Eren slipped with his powers, the weeks progressed without much change. This was enough for unease to creep into his skin, uncomfortably close to resembling fear.

The SUV Magath led him to was a beast. Eren would call it a SUV and van hybrid, but he knew nothing of cars. It was big, at least. It was also weirdly shiny like it had been cleaned not long ago. He spotted himself in the reflection before Magath opened the door and gestured for him to enter.

Eren eyed him silently for a second before taking a secure grip on the handles to the side to be able to step up into the monstrous vehicle. He had to hunch awkwardly when entering and ducked his head before settling on a near seat with a sigh. Magath had practice it seemed, he swung himself into the SUV-van with ease and took a seat beside Eren.

Meanwhile, Eren’s discomfort rose a few degrees when he realized that they were not alone. On the opposite seats facing them sat three men. Two were PRT officers, their kevlar and face-covering helmets giving them away, as well as their badge numbers being plastered on their chests. Between these two sat a man in comparatively little gear; a long black coat, perhaps hiding weapons underneath, but otherwise relatively bare. The confident stare and crossed arms told Eren that this was the man he needed to give respect to though.

Not yet willing to test out if his hands would be stable, Eren inclined his head in a greeting. The man did not return it.

The black coated man turned his head to Magath. “We’re clear?”

“Yes sir.”

Eren began laying a puzzle in his head. The obedient ‘sir’ told him that the man in the black coat was Magath’s superior. And now that he had figured that out, the man did look a bit familiar. He studied the man with the bald head further without trying to look like he was staring.

“Then we move it!” The superior raised his voice and dunked the glass behind him a couple of times until someone got the vehicle moving. Then the man turned back to Eren.

Eren tilted his head in Magath’s direction with a questioning look.

Magath cleared his throat. “Director of the PRT, Mitras Division, Keith Shadis.”

Eren raised his eyebrows. It made sense, he’d probably seen Shadis speaking on TV a few times. So this was the man who held power over the Mitras parahumans. The man who oversaw Eren’s situation behind the scenes. It felt surprisingly good to finally have a face to the man he sometimes cursed all to hell.

“So what do you want?”

Magath turned from Eren to the Director. “He wants to know what we want with him.”

Ah, fuck. It would have to be a translator situation. Eren hated those. It meant that anything he said would have to go through another, with openings for wrong translations or not getting his full intentions or context across. He would never dare speak without permission in such close quarters with PRT people who knew what he could do, but didn’t know him. All it would take was one fearful trigger happy finger to create a shitty situation, and Eren couldn’t rule out that the PRT would elect to side with their own.

The van accelerated suddenly and Eren had to pitifully grab the handles again to not to slide into Magath or be thrown forward into the officers. To add to the embarrassment, none of the other men moved an inch, sitting like stones in their seats.

Shadis tightened his crossed arms. “I’m gonna assume you know the shitstorm the PRT and Protectorate are currently finding themselves in. Just nod for yes.”

Eren nodded.

“Then you also know our desperation. Aside from the Protectorate capes on leave, those not medically cleared or unavailable on loans to other cities, most are in a precarious situation right now. Under parahuman threats to themselves and civilians, as well as having to protect a Tinker tech stash from falling into the wrong hands, we have an impossible situation on our hands. The tech includes explosives who could devastate a large area, and with civilians involved, we need something to break the stall, and fast.”

Eren got a few nods in where he thought them appropriate. But also, he was involved in this… how? Where did he fit into the puzzle? They obviously wanted something from him, he wouldn’t be here otherwise.

“Make no mistake, this would strictly be a one-time thing, and has been discussed in emergency with higher ups, and we’ve been hesitant. But Theo has vouched for you.”

Magath had what?

“If a certain condition is met, we ask you to join a strike team to incapacitate the enemy capes in the warehouse with a limited right for you to use your power, aiming to free the civilian warehouse workers, get the heroes out safely, and protect the tech. In that prioritized order. We’d also try to prioritize your safety, of course.” Shadis looked as if he’d swallowed something sour, like asking this of him was equal to pulling teeth out.

Eren’s head was spinning, because what the actual fuck. What the fuck. Out of everything he’d imagined… it— it was not this. It was the dream of the child in him, but that child in him had been forced to grow up early. With that came bitterness.

He clenched his teeth and turned to Magath. “Permission to speak, sir?” The sir was for added measure, he knew how officers loved their titles.

Magath relayed the message to Director Shadis. The three men in front of them hunched together for a quick exchange. Eren could not make out their whispers, but they soon straightened themselves and the PRT guards clicked on something in their ears with an audible beep. Noise cancellers?

“Granted,” Shadis huffed. 

The officers at the director’s side meanwhile put their assault rifles in their laps, not pointing at Eren, but certainly close at hand. They were prepared, even if the guns probably held non-lethal rounds. Even if Eren was successful in making a command, people needed both space and time to hurt themselves or others. They’d put a bullet in him that would put him under before he’d even had a chance to put his mouth to good use.

“Thank you,” Eren said quietly, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible. He would never have a chance to see his plans come to life if he was dead or maimed for life. “But why now? Why after all this time?”

“I don’t think you understand the risks at hand, Mr. Jaeger. Protectorate capes in nearby cities are not available. The Junkyard Aces and whoever the hell else is in that warehouse have not shown any mercy and are willing to go for the kill. The parahumans in there are no joke. The PRT is making hilariously slow progress in getting in. We cannot ask rogues for help without the possibility of a leak bringing in more threats. To be quite frank Mr. Jaeger, we ask you because weighing the amount of lives on the line both directly and long term, we have a pathetic lack of viable options.”

Eren braced himself as the SUV took a sharp turn and exhaled with a loud whoosh. “And you suddenly view me as a ‘viable option’?”

Shadis narrowed his eyes and held up his hand beside him, fingers tight against each other. “I can turn this car around with a snap of my fingers.” The expression of alarm that flitted by on Eren’s face seemed satisfiable enough for Shadis to continue, lowering the threatening hand. “You are way down there on the list, make no qualms. We don’t trust you as far as we could throw you. But it can't be ignored that your powers would act very effectively as a stallbreaker. It would be with precautions, of course.”

Eren leaned back in his seat trying to look confident (despite being quite the opposite), surveying the men before him closely. “And what would those precautions be? What conditions would be involved?”

Eren was already of the impression that he probably wouldn't say no. Of course he would try to help, and the lure of finally using his powers without the threat of immediate retribution was drawing him in like a moth to a light. He was simply too curious, about himself, about how Protectorate capes operated. He would probably never be given the opportunity again if he said no. Despite that, Eren took the situation at hand as an opening to learn more about the escalating event he was being ensnared in. Could he renegotiate? Would this change things for him?

Shadis kept his eyes on Eren, probably looking for the slightest of red flags, constantly judging the tinderbox the man probably saw him as. “Your involvement depends on if the psionic resistance of one of our capes also pertains to your power. We have a strong belief that it will. In that case, you will accompany him and a small squad of officers, or maybe another cape, to do an infiltration. Your part is commanding the opposition to stand down or generally don’t pose a threat as we make a retreat. You are not to hurt them under any circumstances, not to do anything that could bite your ass in a battle or make other capes angry.”

Eren could feel beads of sweat surface on his neck. He had discovered his power to be unreliable, at least at a distance, but Shadis couldn’t know that. And despite that, they were desperate enough to ask this of him. It had to have chipped at their pride, or at the very least started a hell of a discussion. He knew the PRT were wary of him. This was not a light decision and would probably have consequences, and hell, it all hinged on having a cape that would be immune to him to possibly be able to incapacitate him should it go south, which Eren had no intention of, to be frank. But they didn’t know that.

Magath turned to him to join in on the information dump. “To add to that, you are not to use your power on any of the Protectorate capes or officers. You are only being granted this exception of power usage for tonight should it come to fruition, don’t fuck it up. It will be an intense situation, so keep your emotions in check. In fact, you should probably refrain from talking to the Protectorate capes if you reach them as much as you can.”

Was Magath acting as his mentor now? This was turning out to be such a weird night. The danger of the situation had not really occurred to him yet either. But he supposed that the Protectorate did that day in and out also. “And the cape I’m assigned to?”

“You can talk to him, and possibly his backup,” Magath decided. 

The man must have some power after all, Eren thought. “So that’s all?” 

Shadis looked out of the window briefly before taking out a device that looked like a cross between a mobile phone and a walkie talkie. “Coming up with the parahuman in a few.” He put the device down and turned to Eren. “You would get no credit. No recognition for your actions. The media will not know you were there, nor will they get an explanation should they ask. It is paramount that your identity remain hidden, as well as the full extent of your powers.”

Eren felt agitation building inside him all of a sudden. “So what, you’re asking me to do this out of the goodness in my heart?”

“That is precisely right.”

Is that the kind of person you want to be?  

If he said no, that really was an indirect way of inflicting pain, wasn’t it? So he really had no choice then, is what his experiences told him. He really would do this with no commendation at all. The bastards probably knew he’d say yes anyway.

“Who’s the cape I would be meeting?” Eren asked, leaving the previous topic hanging; it was a dead end, he couldn’t change their minds.

“You will be meeting with Orbit, he was at the battle but was able to escape to relay information to us,” Shadis said, like it was no big deal.

Eren’s eyes almost started bulging out of his head. “Orbit? He’s one of their leaders, I thought you meant one of the B-heroes or something!” This was absolutely no joke at all then. Even if Eren wasn’t as knowledgeable on the heroes as he’d been as a child, Orbit was definitely one who came up on the news every now and again. He was sometimes loaned to other cities to help with cases and missions. He apparently had ‘great mobility’, but Eren had never sought out the details of what that meant. He felt like that was beneath him in his jealousness. But now he wished he was more prepared.

Shadis had the grace to remain silent, but tilted his head in a miffed manner.

Eren pursed his mouth. Better not to leave them in the dark any longer. “Alright. I’ll do it.” God, he hoped his parents wouldn’t get home early.

When Shadis only nodded, Magath spoke up. “We’re thankful. Now,” Magath rooted around in a pocket and brought something out, “you know how important secret identities are for parahumans. Aside from a few individuals, no one knows who you are. This has to remain true. Take these and keep them on.” 

Eren was given a pair of sunglasses and a thin scarf with the intention of shielding his face. The two didn’t exactly go together seeing that it was autumn, but hey, fair enough. You couldn’t say that the PRT wasn’t thorough. He put the shaded glasses on and made sure they sat snuggly before wiring the scarf around his neck and face. As he’d forgotten a jacket, it provided a nice warmth against the chill.

Magath studied the get-up. He then moved forward and put the hood of Eren’s hoodie over his head, careful not to destroy Eren’s previous work. “That should work. Keep it like that.”

A muffled shout was heard from behind the glass. “Rolling up to the headquarters now, sirs!”

“You should go back to the signs for now. Just do as you’re told and everything should go swimmingly.” Shadis adjusted his coat and prepared to arrive.

This was it then. A new piece of adventure he was flung into with no preparation. He shouldn’t be surprised anymore, yet he was, but this time Eren found himself to be anxiously excited for this gig. Sure it may only be for the one time, but if it could happen once, then it could happen again. If he showed his usefulness he could use that in a negotiation. 

Bring it on.

Chapter Text

A darkness fell over the interior of the vehicle as they rolled into some kind of parking garage. Of course, it didn’t exactly help that Eren was wearing sunglasses, he had to place a hand on the door beside him to orient himself.

“We’ll move further into the garage to meet with the convoy and Orbit. Just stay quiet until you’re told otherwise, and do what you’re told,” Shadis repeated as the vehicle came to a stop. 

Eren fiddled with the phone in his pocket as he nodded, something that Shadis immediately honed in on. “Is that a fucking phone?”

Eren nodded with a frown, thankfully not needing a sign for that answer.

“Give me that,” Shadis barked.

Eren brought out the phone and the device was immediately snatched away before he’d even offered it. Eren grew annoyed. He brought his right hand up to his forehead before flicking it forward in the letter for y, a closed hand with thumb and pinky up, the whole thing being the sign for why. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure that one out, especially not with his frustrated and jerky movements.

“A good enough Tinker could find out your identity from your phone alone, and yours have not been encrypted by special means to protect against those. You will get this back later.”

Eren threw his hands up in frustration before opening the door of the SUV to step out. He understood why he took it, but Eren didn’t like being separated from his phone. He felt all too dependent on the damn thing. Gosh, Armin would faint if he knew what Eren was in for right now.

The other cars which had escorted them remained still, it was only the people from Eren’s car who got out. Shadis wasted no time and started walking further into the large space, making Eren have to catch up with a huff. He couldn’t fault the Director though, time was of the essence. People were currently awaiting assistance down by the docks. It made Eren lengthen his steps.

They rounded the corner and with a sudden shout, some 20 guns were abruptly turned on him. Eren faltered in his steps and jumped. Shadis grabbed the fabric of his back to drive him forward, not stopping. Eren’s boots scraped along the ground for a few beats before he adjusted to Shadis’ pace and connected his soles to the concrete underneath.

“It’s for safety and their peace of mind only. Relax.”

You tell that to someone being one trigger happy finger from death, Mr. Director. Eren knew that they could hardly be lethal rounds, but still. Eren’s nostrils flared as he breathed in and out sharply. Shadis released him, deeming him alright to walk of his own again and Eren stumbled forward, keeping an eye on the officers with the rifles. They were surrounding a figure, and Eren knew immediately that he was setting his eyes on Orbit.

Only capes wore such striking costumes.

Orbit was wearing a white costume in the form of a long white coat. It was stylish, parting down the middle at his waist and brought around as coattails down the back that went down to the back of his knees. The visible coat insides that folded up at his chest was black. His pants were black and Eren could spot a tactical utility belt there with batons among other things. His feet were clad in black boots. He wore a hood over his head, outside white, insides black. It looked like something from one of the Assassin’s Creed games, Eren mused. But perhaps the most striking thing about the parahuman’s costume was the simplistic and abstract white mask that covered his whole face in the shape of a barn owl’s face.

If that face came toward you, you knew you were in trouble. It was the mask of death. It was the mask of a savior. 

Eren shuffled forward nervously with Magath and Shadis at his heels. He stopped a few meters from the cape as one of the guards around him held up a hand.

Eren could tell that the parahuman in front of him had been in a battle. Blood was splattered on a few places on the white fabric and one of his pant legs was burned by fire. The parahuman in question tilted his head sideways as he studied him. A few black locks of hair slipped past the hood and mask to lay against its frontside.

Shadis slipped past him and walked forward to exchange a few whispers with the hero. Ah, Eren had forgotten that the Director technically was the parahuman’s superior. Orbit said something and gestured to Eren himself and Shadis whispered something in return. Orbit then nodded a few times and then said something quiet back before going back to study Eren. Then he must have paid attention to what Eren was wearing.

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” Orbit had a rich and deep voice, sounding confident.

Eren looked down at his hoodie and inwardly facepalmed when he remembered that he was wearing the pun one with the planet Saturn… which was orbited by its rings. Eren could only stand mortified, expression thankfully hidden behind his glasses and scarf.

Magath cleared his throat. “This is E. He’s the young Master-class parahuman who may solve our problems.”

Orbit must have been cleared of the information because he was not surprised. He instead seemed impatient as he crossed his arms and shifted the weight of his legs. Probably itching to get back to his teammates.

Shadis said something else in a low voice and Orbit hummed. Orbit seemed to have quite the power in the hierarchy himself, because the 20 or so officers backed away when he raised his hand.

Eren turned to Magath. “What’s going on?”

Magath stepped closer. “I think Orbit wants to get a move on but Shadis would rather this be as safe as possible. Don’t think he’s winning though.”

“Come on then,” Orbit called out just as Magath finished, getting into a more steady positioning with his feet and legs. The officers had taken a more broad formation, guns trained on Eren from several directions.

Shadis grumbled. “E, we’re going to test out the resistance now. Call out a simple command, I would suggest ‘jump on one leg’ or something easily determinable. Nothing else but that, directed at Orbit specifically. You know the consequences should you not obey.”

Magath stepped back as Eren took a deep breath in. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous. Perhaps that came with being in the presence of a superstar, essentially. Oh, and guns. Always the guns. He clenched his jaw once before finding his determination. “Orbit, jump on one leg.” His power moved with his intention, and if it sounded like a command, it was a command. He’d also noticed that if he’d specified the person, no one else was affected. He was uncertain if that was due to his own abilities, or if the others could bypass his command by knowing that it wasn’t directed at them. It was complex and not something he’d had time to research further.

Nothing happened. But Eren couldn’t know if that was due to his powers being funky again or if it was due to Orbit's inherent resistance.

Magath circled him until he stood to their sides. “It’s stronger with touch,” he provided. And the guard was right, Eren didn’t think he had ever failed while touching someone. But he had succeeded in commanding from distances before, so that variation was frustrating.

Orbit wasted no time. He reached out a black-gloved hand over toward Eren, palm upward. “Over fabric too?”

If it’s thin enough, Eren thought as he nodded and he stepped forward slowly, but it wasn’t something he felt like signing. He felt like he was having a religious experience or something. It was probably the mask and costume that did it. The blank black lense-eyes of the minimalistic barn owl mask were burrowing into his own eyes. He also knew that the cape before him must be powerful. Eren gently took the hand.

“Jump on one leg, Orbit,” Eren said determinedly.

“Oh shit,” the parahuman said quickly and tilted his head. He decidedly did not start jumping, though. The owl mask turned toward Shadis. “Yeah, it’s strong. I can feel it bouncing off in my peripheral, but no, it doesn’t go through. I can handle it.”

Shadis nodded in satisfaction. “That decides it then.”

Orbit nodded once and slowly released Eren’s hand. “Blindspot feels alright to go, it was only a nick. He’ll join the squad. Meet us at the emergency site where the PRT have set up base. I have to go get my night suit. Do hurry. And give the kid something more protective to wear.” With that, Orbit started jogging the opposite direction, only sparing Eren a backwards glance.

Eren still stood in slight shock, hand still slightly raised, that someone had actually resisted his words. It had never happened before when it was working and he was strangely put off by the notion. A tap on his shoulder by Magath brought him out of his own thoughts.

“Well done, that’s the first obstacle cleared. Now let’s get back to the cars, we have no time to waste.” Magath moved past Eren and he and Shadis exchanged a few words as they started walking at a brisk pace. 

Eren exhaled and followed, the remaining two officers behind him. This was moving fast, he was starting to get the jitters. Would he even be able to do this? He didn’t even know what the plan was! His fingers started fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, drawing them over his hands to shield against the cold.

What the hell had he really agreed to?

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

They stepped out of the car to abrupt chaos.

The emergency base showed signs of being hastily thrown together. To his left was a tent with open sides broadcasting a large red cross. Medical personnel seemed to be in the process of treating burns, scrapes and even non-threatening stab wounds. One doctor's hands were hovering over an officer's knee which had large and perfectly formed spiky glass splitters jutting out of it. That couldn’t have happened by natural means.

The PRT was a large organization and with Mitras being a significantly giant city, the Mitras Division was no exception to size. The officers wore riot gear and Eren had to hold in a rapid surge of inner panic by holding on to the car. Boy, that did not bring back good memories. In fact, he almost wanted to sit down.

Tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, he forced himself to take in the rest of the scene. He couldn’t miss an opportunity to scout out the inner workings of the PRT. Immediately to his right was a supply station. Eren could spot empty tanks of containment foam piled in a corner, the non-lethal weapon that was very successful in containing capes. In boxes lay ammunition for stun guns and the non-lethal ammunition of the assault rifles.

There were unwritten rules in the society of parahumans. Respect secret identities. No attacking civilian family members. During team ups for the sake of defeating Endbringers or S-Class threats there is no tolerance for violence, irrespective of grudges. There was a whole list for the sake of the continued co-existence of mankind. Without these unspoken guidelines there would be chaos, escalation upon escalation that would devour society with the full usage of powers. One of these unspoken rules was nonlethal force. Maimings, destroyed lives, sure. But if organized parahumans started killing each other on the street, or paramilitary organizations for that manner, then there was nothing stopping all out force or unwelcome guests showing up on your doorstep. If the rumors were true and someone had killed someone, they were in deep shit indeed.

It didn’t mean that the unwritten rules were never broken, of course they were sometimes, but reputations were also on the line here. So was an eye for an eye.

So what made it kinda frightening was that one unwritten rule stated that enslaving someone with mind control was not permitted. Which… yeah. Eren was a walking unwritten rule. His main theory since learning of this as a teenager was that this was the reason he’d effectively been barred from the Protectorate and instead been treated like a juvenile criminal by the PRT. No one had explicitly said such, however. But if someone had been killed, then the eye for an eye protocol had been put into effect, and maybe that was why Eren had been called upon.

Eren shivered.

They were standing on a grass field, or what had effectively been a grass field. With the rain of yesterday and the PRT officers trampling both here and there, the grass had given way for mud. The conditions were terrible, with the officers running winded and dirty. 

“Come on,” Shadis demanded and brought the group further into the camp.

They were stopped several times on the way by officers relaying new information or asking their director questions. Still, this was a hurried affair. Eren couldn’t believe that he’d been watching the news at home just the previous hour. A helicopter flew over their heads, no doubt making its way towards the warehouse. They couldn’t be far from the area, Eren could even hear the faint rumbling of the water grinding against the docks.

They arrived at another tent with opened sides, this one having a table in the middle with blueprints and notes. The plastic roof was to shield the valuable information against the unreliable autumn skies. The officers already there greeted the new arrivals before making more room at the table. Magath and Shadis took places beside their comrades as another officer moved toward Eren.

The officer was carrying a selection of clothes, ones that bordered on body armor. “We got word that you needed a change of clothes. This jacket here is of a durable material and even got some plates in it to shield against heavy hits or powers of light energy.” The female officer handed Eren the piece of equipment in question. “Pants. Same material as the jacket with protection that still allows for mobility. I think you're good with your boots though, and it's better if they fit your feet properly so you don’t fall in a critical situation.” 

The officer smiled a tight smile at Eren which he returned, before the officer handed him the remaining clothes and walked away to continue her work. Eren eyed the clothes with interest. Was there a chance that he would be able to keep these, perhaps? He liked the style. It was a black bomber jacket in a tough material, old school style. The pants were generic but tactical, perfect for rough terrain, and he had no idea of what to expect. 

As Eren only had a hoodie on him the jacket went straight over it, with the added bonus of him not having to disturb the sunglasses, hood or scarf. It was comfortable enough. As he unfolded the pants something tumbled out of them and fell onto the ground. Eren frowned in confusion and bent down to pick up and dust off the straps with two things on them. Ah, it was a pair of goggles with reflective glass and a strap that went around the head. More practical than sunglasses who could be bumped off with a jump, and besides, the goggles’ reflective surface was a cool green color. 

Eren bent down again and shielded his face with the hood as he swapped the sunglasses with the cool goggles, thankful to whoever had thought of this problem. Eren looked up and threw a look around. These goggles allowed for more light to enter his eyes too, nice. There was no room or shielded area in sight, so Eren shoved his embarrassment to the side as he quickly pulled his pants down and stepped out of his shoes to change pants in the middle of the field.

The change of clothes made his confidence soar a little higher than before, where it had been very close to the ground. He zipped the jacket up, thriving in the feeling of security the fabric brought him. He bent his arm and watched as the material bent with the in-worked protective plates of the jacket. With that done, he looked around the scene again, watching the people scurry around.

Eren noticed that a few officers must have worked out who he was, what he could do. Not that they knew the name Eren, or even his face. But the knowledge, that was what caused the unease. Many must only have learned of him and his part in this just today. They looked uncomfortable, giving him frowns, looks of concern and anxiety. They didn’t like that it had come to this. They didn’t like that a person like him existed, he could see it in their eyes and it brought indignation to the forefront of Eren’s mind again, like an old friend. He had also not missed the way the two officers who had accompanied him, Shadis and Magath in the car, kept their eyes on him from afar, seemingly ready to step in should he make a move.

A shadow in Eren’s peripheral drew his attention, and he shifted his gaze. Orbit strode down the path toward the tent, now clad in the inverse colors of his previous coat. The outside was now as black as the night sky while the few points of the inside material peeking out was white-colored. The mask was however still strikingly white. It was a suit meant to blend into the hazy darkness. 

Something moved to the side of Orbit but whenever Eren tried to focus his eyes on it, his gaze made a large detour around the object. He tried again. It had to be a person, it was human shaped in his peripheral vision, but Eren couldn’t for the life of him make his eyes stay on the person, if it was a person. It was actually very much scary, in a I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with my eyes kind of way. The person stayed as a shadow in the corner of Eren’s eye as the two neared, and the closer Orbit got with the shadow in tow the more Eren was forced to look to the side, like it was an aura that was determined not to be looked at.

“What is happening?” Eren found himself saying out loud when Orbit was within hearing vicinity, and pointed to the spot where the person should be. Only, as much as the thing didn’t want to be focused on, it certainly didn’t want to be pointed at either. His index finger and arm slipped to the side with a life of its own, and Eren frowned in puzzlement.

Magath was barking at him from the tent opening suddenly and in his peripheral he was certain that there were guns pointed at him, but Orbit didn’t seem to mind, perhaps by knowing that he was immune and ready to step in. If only the officers could take a sample of his chill pill.

The black-clad hero looked to his side but even the Protectorate leader had troubles focusing his mask in this direction. “Hey, knock it off for a few minutes, will you?”

“Oh, right! Sorry, it’s like a reflex when I’m stressed. I’m sure you know how it is.”

It was gone with a snap. Eren stood befuddled as he realized the shadow was a boy speaking with him. Finally he was able to take a look. The boy (it must have been someone his age, maybe a newly graduated Ward) wore a red mask that covered the upper part of his face. It was styled in the form of a mischievous goblin, with a pointy nose, pointy ears and artificial spiky orange hair at the top. The rest of the costume was composed of a flashy wine red shawl that bellowed down the parahuman’s back along with a snug even darker red boiler suit that looked like it had loads of gadgets in its very many pockets. The gloves the boy was wearing looked pointy, and Eren wondered if they were any good for scratching foes. There was one word Eren felt summed up the hero in front of him: trickster.

Eren had a pretty good feeling of this parahuman’s classification, but Orbit already had that covered.

“This is Blindspot, Stranger-class 4. Blindspot, this is… E, a powerful Master.”

Eren noticed how Orbit refrained from using Eren’s number after his classification, and it made him wonder if he’d even been provided with it. Eren suspected it was significantly, absolutely what kids would call ‘up there’, perhaps approaching the twelves. The number signified the threat to the public that the power posed and was of great help to organizations in dealing with parahuman threats without a lot of intel, but among the public itself it had devolved into a measure of power level. 

Blindspot was a complete contrast to Orbit, for the boy bounced forward and immediately took one of Eren’s hands and shook it excitedly. “Oh, cool! Are you one of them rogues who have volunteered?” 

Eren knew right away that the boy had not been cleared of Eren or his powers. He would probably not have been so friendly in that case, and he would not have put himself in a prime position for Eren to be able to command him.

Orbit had noticed, for Eren saw that the man had tilted his mask down infinitesimally to watch where Eren and Blindspot made contact. The officers that Eren had a constant half-eye on had taken a step forward, unknowing on how to proceed. Magath waited a second but put up his palm toward them.

Eren decided to solve and diffuse the charged air himself by letting his hands free. “Nice to meet you, too.” He made the signs large and slow, despite knowing that he would not be understood by those before him.

Blindspot seemed stupefied for a moment, before turning toward Orbit. “Oh! He’s— but wait! He talked before! Why the special treatment?”

Definitely Eren’s age.

“It’s for precautions, you’ll see.” Orbit sounded pained, perhaps suffering from a moment of cringe. “Let’s move now, we have to go over the plan and get on with it quickly. There’s people counting on us, even if they don’t know it.”

The trio moved together into the emergency tent and it was here that Eren truly realized that he was part of something special, something unthinkable. As he took a place between Orbit and Shadis he thought about how crazy this would have sounded to himself just a day ago. So yeah, tomorrow you are going to stand beside one of the leaders of the Mitras Protectorate AND the director of the Mitras PRT and they’re not even trying to kill you. Neat, huh? The irony was not lost on him. They probably had lists of which parahumans to call in during an Eren-caused emergency (Orbit having moved to the top today, most likely), and now they were depending on him to be part of the cog that would stop a possible fiasco and tragedy from happening. 

Crazy.

Shadis wasted no time, an aspect of his character that Eren suspected was permanent. “There are several stories to the warehouse and from your reports, we suspect that the meat of the conflict is contained to the first floor. You said that the Protectorate was in the process of taking cover in the vault with the civilians and the tech?”

Orbit nodded while surveying the blueprint. “I tried to throw the opposition across the room to clear time for them with so many wounded. Afterward I made it out through one of the windows on the second floor. As signs point towards nothing having changed, I’m going to assume that the vault is doing its job and keeping the others out. The problem lies in that they really want the tech. We know of the Junkyard Aces, but the third party in there, I know nothing of the pieces of shits. They don’t follow the codes, that's all I know.”

Shadis’ eyes swept over the small crowd around the table. “Blindspot?”

What was visible of Blindspot’s mouth turned down and he shook his head. “They came from nowhere, sir. It’s like they knew exactly what we were gonna do. Even in the battle, they easily turned the tide. I was ordered out after being nicked by a knife, only superficial, but…” The goblin-masked boy trailed off.

Magath turned to Shadis. “Do they perhaps have a Thinker with predetermination? Path to victory, or path to failure?”

Shadis nodded and fixed Orbit with a gaze. “It cannot be ruled out. I would advise staging a bluff maneuver to root out an eventual Thinker. Would probably avoid combat, keep to the edges of the playing field. You know the drill.”

Orbit inclined his head. “Any updates on Lusus’ creatures?”

“All perished in the fire, I’m afraid,” Shadis answered.

“Prototypes?” Orbit continued.

Shadis shook his head. “Nothing operable, and nothing near cleared. You know my stance on that. Besides, you know how Lusus Naturae gets when the creatures go down. Lusus is in no condition to build right now.”

Orbit tapped his fingers impatiently on the table, but seemed to agree.

Eren followed the conversation with anxiety, yet only one thing was on his mind. He waited until he found Magath’s eyes. “What about me?” he signed and looked at the other faces. He believed only a few of them saw his signs. That was the problem, he was discouraged from being verbal before mission start but had no way of gaining the attention of everyone at the same time without looking like a fool. Magath thankfully relayed his question to the group.

“Your main mission is putting the opposition in decommission without hurting them. Just put them in time-out for a while, enough to be able to get the civilians and the Protectorate capes, and preferably also the Tinker tech, out of there safely. Create confusion, it is your biggest advantage as a debutante. Orbit will take you into position and keep you from harm as best as he can,” Shadis informed while Orbit nodded in agreement.

Orbit tilted his head in the direction of Blindspot, owl eyes staring mysteriously. “I suspect you know your role by now.”

Blindspot grinned. “Yep, sir! Create chaos, create an opening for you guys.”

“Precisely. But don’t get in over your head. If it gets dangerous, you head out or you come to me,” Orbit’s blank and mysterious barn owl face turned to Eren, producing a shiver down the boy’s spine, “the same applies for you, but in your case, unless your life is in immediate and direct danger, you come to me before going out.”

Eren hummed back in his throat.

Orbit turned those intense blank eyes on his superior. “I assume he’s been cleared to speak during the mission? It would be hard otherwise.”

“He’s been cleared,” Shadis answered and tilted his head in Eren’s direction, addressing him next. “But know that the PRT will not be shy of taking you in for detention and evaluation should you break this trust bestowed upon you. You have a specific set of guidelines here to operate within, don’t do anything stupid.”

Eren’s lip twitched. “Yes, sir.”

Blindspot looked questioningly between them, his body language screaming confusion.

Orbit acknowledged the answer with a satisfied huff then studied the blueprint further, honing in on the large entrance with a finger, tapping it in thought. “We were caught off guard last time, not this time. I want to use all means open to us. Do you have anyone en route to the ostrich farm?”

Eren snapped his head rapidly in the direction of Orbit, almost giving himself whiplash. Excuse me?

Magath was the one who answered this time. “Made the call a moment ago. It may take some time getting the damn things here though. Operate with the mindset that they won’t be here in time but are an option if a drawn out skirmish breaks out.”

“And the Mitras capes in Montreal?”

Shit, they were short-staffed then? It wasn’t unusual to loan Protectorate capes during lulls to help with trouble in other cities, and it spoke volumes that no nearby Protectorate capes were available. Perhaps the villains really had a Thinker with some predetermination.

“Should be in the air in a few. A couple of hours away though. No capes with that width in their teleportation were available.” Magath put a hand over his face.

Orbit nodded, straightening up from scanning the blueprints, appearing to have come to a decision. “Alright. I think it’s best for us to approach from behind, completely bypassing the conflict in front. I can take us through a window, and we’ll send in Blindspot to scout. We’ll choose the highest priority capes to take down first, and use the surprise to get E close. We’ll dip in and out of the masses to keep the danger level down. Blindspot, when we’ve been discovered and attention is turned on us, I want you to sneak close to the vault and let our teammates know that we can use the help of all healthy capes available to make an escape. The remainder should focus on getting out by all means necessary.”

Eren observed Orbit working his magic in real time in awe. His reputation really did precede him.

Shadis made a few notes in a notebook. “How many can you take with you, do you think?” 

Orbit looked up to the sky — or rather that of the ceiling of the tent — briefly and exhaled. “I could technically take a whole squad with me. But we want to be mobile and quick, not attracting attention. I will have to shift direction often while inside after being discovered too so I have to conserve as much energy as possible, especially now that Helios cannot be here. So realistically I’d say me and these both here. We can’t go up to the cliff by car either, the lights or noise would give us away and we don’t know what the other capes have up their sleeve. But I’ll make sure to leave enough of a gap after me so that you guys can enter the warehouse when we have their attention. You just need ladders.”

One of the officers in the corner of the tent immediately brought out a phone and started running toward the center of the emergency camp. Things went fast here, it was probably to procure exactly that, ladders.

Shadis followed the soldier with grim eyes. “So it’s settled then. It’s up to you three to create an opening.”

Eren nibbled on his lip and glanced at Orbit and Blindspot. Eren had confidence in his abilities, but in his own opinion they were against the odds here. Perhaps Eren’s powers really were the impasse-breaker they all believed it was, but he had no battle experience to speak of, no tricks up his sleeves to use when facing hostile parahumans.

Eren sighed soundlessly.

Maybe he’d play it safe, stay close to the walls the moment he’d done his job. He didn’t owe them anything. His future plans still laid open in front of him and he didn’t plan on ending up dead on a concrete floor in a random warehouse before he’d even tried to break free. 

The people in the tent said their final words before they were to depart, but Eren was lost in his own thoughts. He was only brought out of them when Orbit let a hand fall down on his shoulder, making Eren jump slightly.

“We will move out shortly.” Orbit lifted his head and watched the others leave the tented area. Only then did the black lenses of the white mask turn on Eren once more. Orbit’s other hand produced what looked like a small gun from inside his long coat. Eren jumped again. “Relax. They hadn’t planned on arming you, but that didn’t sit right with me. This gun is filled with three rounds of containment foam bullets. Completely non-lethal, but will serve to stop someone in their path should you need it. Don’t make me regret this, and we’ll never speak of it again. Hide it well.”

After pushing the dark gun with yellow bulges on the side into Eren’s hands, Orbit walked away like nothing had happened. Eren looked down at the gun with alarm, before scrambling to put it inside the waistband of the back of his pants, covered by the jacket. He had to change the location of his wallet to his chest pocket instead, but it was a worthy trade.

After waiting for a minute and feeling his nerves surge to record levels, Eren steeled himself and began to follow the mud prints of Orbit’s footsteps. 

Chapter Text

Eren, Orbit and Blindspot had to scale the cliff eclipsing the warehouse by foot, which meant taking a detour. The pace was set high from the start with the three interchanging between jogging and walking at a brisk pace. Although if the two heroes got to choose they would probably jog the entire way to save a few more minutes, so it was too bad that Eren was in relatively bad shape compared to the two of them to his great embarrassment. Not that he didn’t work his ass off though. 

Eren’s heavy pants could probably be heard by Orbit who led the small group with an important mission on their shoulders from the front. Time was ticking, every second that passed could prove to raise the chance that the tide in the warehouse could turn — probably not in the heroes’ favor. 

Green eyes stared at the two backs in front of him. Who were these people behind their masks? Were they ordinary people with an ordinary job when the costume was off? Did they devote all their time to heroics, patrolling the city day and night? Were they different people once the spotlight turned off? No one knew but themselves and it was practically forbidden to find out. The Protectorate and PRT probably had people constantly scanning the media for breadcrumbs, destroying them as they went, and it was as well. Secret identities was the one thing that kept the capes able to do what they were able to. God, it had to be terrifying living with the fear that your name could leak to the press.

“You doing alright back there?” Blindspot said over his shoulder and he didn’t even sound the least bit breathless, the bastard.

“Just fine!” Eren said between clenched teeth, trying to get his heart to calm the fuck down and his lungs to stop hurting. His whole body was screaming for oxygen and Eren had no choice but to obey its will.

Blindspot saw that as an invitation to join him at his side, taking a few slow steps to allow Eren to catch up. The young hero did not beat around the bush. “So… about your powers, what can you do? Sounded pretty serious back there.”

Eren worked his jaw and bit his tongue to hold himself back from speaking too fast. What was best to say here? I can basically make people my puppet, sounded a little harsh and he had a very good feeling by now regarding how people reacted when hearing of his power level. It didn’t hurt to ease it in, right? “Let’s just say that I have a very high level of… persuasion.” Understatement, understatement, understatement.

“What, like convincing people to stand down during a fight?”

“Mm-hm, something like that,” Eren winced. The wind whirled around the grass around their ankles, whispering of lies.

“He’s downplaying it. He can very much tell people what to do and they’d do it,” Orbit provided without turning around. Damnit.

“Oh,” Blindspot said, turning quiet. Then the penny suddenly seemed to drop. “Oh.”  

Eren remained quiet. It was dark enough out that they couldn’t tell each other's body language and he thought it a blessing in the moment. With the few people Eren had been present for during the reveal of his powers, this was pretty much how it usually went. The notion that a parahuman had the power to control others to the extent Eren could was beyond belief. As far as he’d been told, there was no other case on record. Thus, the fear. That’s why no one had ever had a thing to say against his leashment, or done anything to change it the past 7 years. It was unfair, he didn’t choose his powers so much as every other parahuman couldn’t. It manifered during their stress and took a shape that would help them. The words to defend himself were at the tip of his tongue when it was Blindspot who surprised him.  

“I don’t really know how to feel about that,” Blindspot said honestly, “but hey, it’s for a good cause right now, right?”

The air lost a little of its charged atmosphere and Eren promptly decided that Blindspot was an alright optimist, perhaps a bit naive. However, Eren could also recognize an olive branch when it was put in front of him. If Blindspot could set aside his reservations for the greater good, then so could Eren. “Yeah, that’s right,” he answered sincerely. The two heroes he accompanied weren't actually that bad, at least when lives were on the line. You could never know when lines were about to be broken, as Eren was technically doing right now.

They continued to walk fast-paced, letting Eren gain some energy and breath back. He also took that time to gain some information. Blindspot still walked beside him, silhouette looking like a devil in the night. Perhaps Eren really was cursed. He leaned in closer.

“So, what class is Orbit really? No one’s told me.”

The red pointy nose of Blindspot’s mask turned in his direction. “They haven’t? Ah, it’s a bit complicated. His powers are really versatile and can be used in a variety of ways. I think his main classification is Shaker, with hybrid classifications moving into Mover and Blaster. Then he has the psionic resistance as a nice little Thinker-bow on the side. Numbers, um… high, I think? Maybe nines? A two for the Thinker one. No one knows how destructive his powers could be if he let loose, but then a lot of people would get hurt. He likes to operate in close quarters.”

Eren nodded, unpacking the information. Shaker meant that his power affected, or could affect, an area. Mover meant that the power could affect his speed or mobility, and based on rumors Eren leaned towards mobility. Lastly, Blaster indicated a possibility for the power to operate as long-ranged or deal ranged damage. Eren frowned and racked his brain. He couldn’t come up with something that fit all that.

“How about you then? I could barely see you, and I definitely couldn’t look at you whenever you turned your… thing on. Can you even be hit?”

Blindspot chuckled. “Oh ya, have some nasty scars to show for it too. But they do have a hard time with it. They kinda have to close their eyes and guess where I am. They cannot aim guns at me while looking in my direction, so they have to chance that too. Basically I’m a pain in the ass on the battlefield, and I’m hard to spot unless you are deliberately looking for me in your peripheral vision or have something to anchor your sight to near me, like when I arrived with Orbit. Otherwise you probably wouldn't have seen me.”

“Sounds pretty clutch,” Eren said. What he wouldn’t give for a minor power like that. So much less problems and the PRT wouldn't get on someone’s heels for that.

Blindspot scratched at the orange mop of hair on the top of his mask. “I guess it is. It suits itself best for infiltrations and surprise attacks though, not so good on a large battlefield, but I guess that goes for most Strangers.”

Eren acknowledged the admission with a hum.

The path turned narrow after a few minutes, only a small trail shielding them from the calf-high grass stroking their legs. Eren took the middle placement this time between the two Protectorate heroes, Blindspot falling back to allow for a smooth passage. They sped up to a jog again.

It couldn’t be long now. Eren could hear the faint thrumming of the waves of the Atlantic Ocean in the distance again, indicating that they’d made a correct U-turn. Somewhere in the distance behind them the PRT squads would be making their way forward ever so slowly by car. They couldn’t mobilize the entire force in fear of their plan being foiled, the line of attack in front of the warehouse had to continue to keep the pretense up and running, not giving an inch of indication that they’d switched gears.

Eren’s nerves were slowly giving away to adrenaline. His hands were trembling, that he was pretty sure of. He sometimes patted the gun at his waistband to make sure that he hadn’t lost it. Otherwise he had no weapon to speak of aside from his own hands by the way of his powers. He couldn’t trust it completely today, so he was convinced that he’d have to touch the enemies to make a surefire command. He couldn’t play with  chance and faith with lives in the balance. 

Eren turned his attention forward as he noticed that Orbit’s back grew nearer. That’s right, the cape was slowing down, throwing glances at Eren by turning his head sideways.

“Ever been in a battle before?” the deep voice behind that barn owl face asked.

Eren couldn’t suppress a snort of surprise. Just… how much info had these two been provided with, really? Had the PRT really been so strapped with time that they just, what, forgotten? Were they embarrassed to tell them that they’d had a parahuman on house arrest for 7 years? In fact, the PRT seemed happy to throw him into a dangerous situation and strap him to Orbit in order to lay the responsibility of his survival on the hero. Eren could see the situation they had been put in to justifiably try something like this, but it still seemed haphazard to him.

“Cannot say I’ve had the chance, nope. Just volunteered my power when asked.”

Eren’s thighs burned as they took their last challenging steps over the steep hill. He came to a stop beside Orbit who had slowed down at the top, overlooking the large dock warehouse from behind. Smoke could be seen rising from the other side of the building as well as faint thuds echoing through the air, probably the deadlock at the front, frozen at a futile push-and-pull.

“Why did you volunteer then? I’m sure you know this won’t be a walk in the park, nor can your safety be guaranteed.” Orbit didn’t seem surprised at his admission. But Eren guessed that all signs pointed to his non-existent battle experience. His nerves, the less than stellar conditioning. Probably more details that were more obvious to Orbit’s eyes than Eren’s. The guy seemed like a pro.

The wind whipped Eren’s hood, and he looked toward the horizon where the night sky met the deep blue. Yes, why had he volunteered? The PRT couldn’t force him to do anything. In an alternative universe he was drinking Sprite and playing more board games with Armin right now. But he hadn’t taken the easy road. Again, why? Eren surmised that it could be boiled down to his discoveries with Nanaba. He wanted to do good, be the opposite of what everyone expected of him. It was sufficient to say that it didn’t come naturally to him, but he was proud of his choice, regardless of how much it also benefited the PRT. 

Eren found himself being completely honest when he answered. “I haven’t had it easy, but I want to be a good person. Not saying yes to this, it would do the opposite, make me someone I don’t want to be. So in the end, I guess I had no choice at all. I had to do this.” For himself, for others. Eren shrugged, feeling vulnerable.

He must have finally surprised Orbit, because the parahuman leader snapped his head in Eren’s direction. Eren met the blank eyes of the mask himself. Orbit was quiet for a while, seemingly soul-searching Eren for a moment, challenging him to rescind his statement if it hadn’t been true. But it had. Orbit seemed to realize this, for he slowly inclined his head and turned it forward again. “Very well.”

“Guess it’s showtime, sir.” Blindspot appeared beside them, unknowingly breaking the vulnerable moment. “Hit us with the details.”

Eren turned his gaze toward Orbit, only to see him shake his head, hood and matte mask illuminated by the faint glow below.

“If they do have someone with predetermination or some kind of foresight, locking ourselves to one path forward with a predetermined decision would be foolish and an invitation to pick us out before we even start. We have to be open minded to what our options are in order to confuse a possible Thinker like that. I don’t like it, but it’s what we have to do and it’s in accordance with protocol. We have an overarching plan, now we have to see the chips fall where they may.”

“Right,” Eren said, stepping up to the ledge of the cliff and looking down. There was at least a few meters gap separating the cliff and the back wall of the warehouse, not to mention that the warehouse was a ways down. “But how do we get down there?”

“This is the fun part!” Blindspot said excitedly in a whisper-shout hybrid way while also bouncing up to the ledge, leaving space for Orbit between them. “Things are about to turn topsy-turvy.” The grin on the goblin’s face could not be missed.

Orbit finally joined them in the space left. “Don’t scream.” He took a firm grip on Eren’s upper arm and, looking to the side, Eren could see that he was doing the same thing to Blindspot.

“Now why would I—”

Orbit took a large step, dragging the two parahumans over the cliff edge with him into nothingness. 

Eren didn’t even have time to scream. Instead his breath did one of those things like when going over a hill on a rollercoaster — he sucked in a large breath as his stomach absolutely dropped like a fucking stone. For a second, just a millisecond, it passed through his mind that this must have all been a ploy to kill him. Set up a crime, make Eren disappear as a martyr in the carnage. 

They didn’t fall, as much as the world instead unnaturally turned. He was suddenly infused with a warmth that spread all over his limbs, going down the vessels of his blood system and out through his extremities until it dissipated into the air. During that brief time it had felt like pure thrumming energy had entered and abruptly left him. Eren’s feet met rock.

And then he fell forward on his hands and knees, frozen over the fact that he wasn’t currently face planting on the ground far beneath. Because the ground was somehow in the direction he was facing in front of him, when he looked forward. Eren, as well as Orbit and Blindspot, was calmly planted on the steep side of the cliff, like it was now down for them. Eren took a stuttering breath, heart acting like it making a run for an Olympic championship. “How?”

“I can manipulate gravitational mass. In easier terms, gravity is mine to use as I wish.”

Orbit stood above him, Eren looking up at the parahuman with barely contained amazement. Being hard to focus on, being able to command people, those were one thing. But Orbit was breaking the freaking laws of physics here. It didn’t matter what anyone said, that was cool. And unbelievable. Had Eren not experienced it a moment ago he’d thought it impossible, and that was with the knowledge of what parahumans could do. Alas, seeing was believing.

Eren rose to shaky legs, throwing his gaze skyward. But ah, it wasn’t really skyward in the current moment, was it? Above him, the sky met the sea. Would he walk toward the warehouse, then the building would be the thing above him. It was a big mindfuck, was what it was. His brain had a hard time adjusting to the new dimensions. Things were not where he expected them to be in relation to himself.

“First time’s always the most confusing. You’ll get used to it in a moment. Just think of whatever your feet are on as the ground.” Blindspot walked past Eren followed by Orbit.

Eren also followed, but couldn’t refrain from looking at everything from a brand new perspective, literally. Some part of him couldn’t believe that this was real. He was walking down a steep cliffside with no tools or resistance at all! Armin would freak when he heard.

“Focus on the task,” Orbit chastised when the cape noticed. “Lack of focus is the first thing that will get you hurt during a mission or in a fight.”

“Yes, sir.” Eren's head immediately reeled back. He hadn’t meant to add that last part. Huh, his focus really was shot. That, and the fact that Blindspot regularly used the word to show respect to his leader probably got to his head.

Orbit threw him a glance, but said nothing.

Shadow fell over them as the illumination from the docks disappeared behind the looming warehouse above them. It was absolutely huge, probably housing all sorts of things coming in from the sea, Tinker-tech apparently among them. Somewhere in there was a group of heroes and civilians waiting for help, as well as capes that would try to stop them. Human greed for power knew no bounds, certainly in a world of powered sharks.

Eren adjusted his goggles as Orbit reached out toward them again, this time letting the two young capes come to him. 

“We have to twist mid air this time, I’ll try to ease us in. Don’t turn your weight too hard backwards or you could break your neck landing. Follow my example,” Orbit said and the gruesome image unpleasantly flitted through Eren’s mind, producing a twitch of his hand.

Orbit gently grasped his upper arm and just seconds later Eren felt that infusion of heat again. Energy entered him from Orbit’s hand and he sucked in a breath at the sensation. His arms trembled by the rush of adrenaline, of the thrill. 

Their feet left the ground as the gravitational hold of the cliff let them go. Instead Eren felt a pull upwards, taking over his weight like a caring grasp. Orbit let go of his arm and instead grasped the fabric of his jacket by his neck to allow for the cape to twist Eren with him.

Eren wondered if Orbit could adjust the pull, because while the first gravity change had been like a snap, this one was more gentle, more like they floated to a change. The landing still sent a slight ache up his ankles and lower legs though. This time, the backside of the warehouse was down. What would happen if he’d jump off the edge of the large house? Would he then float endlessly toward the horizon? No, focus. Orbit said that he must focus. He could wonder later.

Orbit let out an audible, yet short, exhale. That’s right, he’d said that this needed energy from him right? And certainly bringing people with him. The parahuman did not seem near tired though as he started up a pace towards one of the windows near the roof, a few stories up from the ground to their side. So weird.

Blindspot and Eren were tight on the leader’s heels and they all crouched down around the window of Orbit’s choosing. 

“Alright. According to the blueprints this should lead to the upper floor where the offices for the warehouse operations are. This means smaller rooms, so be on your guard. It’s easier to hide up here, which can work both for and against us,” Orbit said in hushed tones. 

Eren listened intently and nodded. He was facing the ledge to the roof and had a clear view of the entire sky. That must have been why he subconsciously noticed the seagull and pulled his gaze to it as it shook unnaturally in mid-air, as if glitching in a tv-game. The bird’s shudders stopped as fast as they’d come, and the bird gracefully started to sail down toward them.

The alarm in Eren’s gaze made Orbit, and then Blindspot, look the seagull’s way. He couldn’t see the expression on Orbit’s face, but was that happiness on the one of Blindspot’s? Eren trailed the bird with slight fright as it glided down to land on the edge of the roof without trouble, peering down at them over the edge. It was unnaturally still.

“Superb timing,” Blindspot giggled and leaned forward.

Orbit glanced at Blindspot but remained focused on the seagull. “This is good. We’re coming in to get you, just wait a little while longer. The PRT is not far behind. Tell all battle-ready capes to be prepared for Blindspot’s signal. We have another cape here who should turn the tide of the battle,” Orbit clarified to the bird and gestured to Eren.

The bird turned its dark eyes on Eren. Eren didn’t really know what was happening but he assumed this was the result of some sort of power.

Without warning, the bird shook briefly again and blinked. It then took flight without another glance back.

Orbit caught Eren’s perplexed body language. “One of our members can control and see out of the eyes of birds,” Orbit explained. “She’s a Master like you.”

“Ah,” Eren hummed. 

With the Protectorate capes luckily informed, they all turned toward the window between them one more time. Eren didn’t have to ask this time, he imagined Orbit had something up his sleeve.

“Ready?” the hero murmured. “I cannot guarantee this will be wholly quiet.”

The young capes nodded. Eren had no idea what to do, but he decided he was just going to wing it. He had the gun, he had his power. No death today, satan.

Orbit put his hands on the window casing, fingers touching the glass panels inside. The air above the window started shimmering lightly like the aura you could see over a road on a hot summer day; you really had to pay attention to notice it before it dissipated. It happened again, and again. Soon the wood encased by bricks started groaning in a dull tone. Eren realized that Orbit was somehow layering ‘pulls’ to make… gravity affect the window harder? More densely? Eh, Eren's best subject was not physics. All the same, he leaned back from the window to avoid a possible concussion as he had a hunch of where this was going.

Finally, the window couldn’t resist the pull any longer. The casement broke away from the surrounding material with a surprisingly muffled snap and was in the process of swishing by Eren’s head before Orbit grabbed the rim with a long exhale. He redirected the force with a pull in another direction to at least make the broken window avoid crashing into the nearby cliffside, something that definitely would have broken the glass and produced a loud noise. 

The three parahumans waited with bated breath for some hint that they’d been discovered. At least Eren did, boy was his heart beating up a storm during those few seconds. 

It seemed like they were in the clear.

Orbit was not one to dally. He jumped in and did his gravity-switching thing so that he landed on the true ground this time. Blindspot and Eren were still obeying the gravity to the side of the building.

Eren was in the most optimal spot to enter, so when Orbit reached out a gloved hand Eren took it gently and did a little hop of faith into the hole that was the window. Orbit’s effect was immediate. Regular gravity gripped Eren and before he knew it he was stumbling to a stop on the ground. It was only with Orbit’s help and strong arm that he was stopped from smashing his face in. Yeah, he was not used to that shift yet.

“Thanks,” Eren mumbled and dusted himself off and adjusted his scarf.

Blindspot did it with a little bit more grace, but then again he’d probably had practise. As the shawl on the red-costumed cape settled they all went into proper mission-mode. Orbit gained an extra level of carefulness about him, Blindspot hunched together to make himself smaller, and Eren? Eren was freaking the fuck out inside. But conceal don’t feel and all that, he wasn’t about to ruin the mission because he got the heebie-jeebies.

“You know what you have to do?” Orbit asked and tilted his masked face in the direction of Blindspot.

“Yep. Find suspicious cape, notify, then cause chaos. In an undecided way, of course.”

“Then off you go,” Orbit murmured, turning his eyes on the doorway.

Eren was about to look at Blindspot, only to realize that he couldn’t anymore. He found an interesting spot on the wall instead, straining his concentration to get even an inch of peripheral hint that the parahuman was moving. Sneaky, slippery bastard. The slight oscillation of the door to and fro was the only indication that the goblin-faced cape had left the room. 

If only Eren could do that to escape attention from his guards.

“We’ll do a quick scout of the floor before joining him. Stay behind me, stay quiet,” Orbit whispered before slowly making his way toward the same door that Blindspot had left through.

Eren followed the Protectorate leder, careful not to step on anything that would reveal them with a noise. It was a cluttered office space, old and withered, which made it a bit more of a challenge than it should have been.

Then came the loud thud.

Eren could feel the vibration in the ground, hear the crunch as the building groaned and as dust trickled down from the ceiling beams. It wasn’t like an earthquake, but something had certainly sounded from downstairs and it must have packed a punch to sound like that.

Orbit stopped mid-step, probably hyperaware of potential after effects. When none came, he looked over his shoulder at Eren. “There’s a Shaker down there that gave us problems earlier. This is certainly from him. Let’s move.”

They darted soundlessly down the corridor, passing by several closed doors which Orbit didn’t deem important enough to open. Perhaps the loud thud with its accompanied force had unnerved him, urging him to hurry. 

Another dull sound went off with an accompanying shake as they made their way around the upper floor. Eren was practically vibrating on the spot now with nervous energy, the slightest of sounds making him jump, expecting to be dosed with some horrifying concoction of power. That was the scary thing with parahumans, you really couldn’t know what to expect. Nothing was out of the realms of possibilities. Even Orbit, who had been briefly in a fight with these people, couldn’t be sure that they didn’t have a second skillset up their sleeve.

“Yes sir, noted. I’ve sent the majority of the others out, and those of us left will move when the opportunity arises.”

Before Eren could yelp from the sudden noise stemming from the open doorway up ahead due to his mounting stress, Orbit crowded him and put a gloved hand over his mouth. The muscular parahuman pushed him against the wall so that the two were out of sight behind a protruding piece of wall. If he hadn’t known that they were on the same side, he would have pissed himself coming so close face to face with the barn owl mask. Eren decided then and there that the faces of barn owls looked too blank, too mysterious. 

Orbit put a finger over the slightly protruding part of his mask, probably supposed to represent a narrow protruding beak, somewhere where his mouth was supposed to be. Eren nodded, even with the hand tight over his mouth. He’d be quiet, he’d just been surprised. Orbit looked past the bit of wall as he released his hand from Eren, and from his lack of reaction, the situation was probably clear. The mumblings beyond that doorway continued.

Orbit looked back at him, or Eren surmised that the cape did, the black lenses of the owl eyes focused on him. Then he felt the infusion of energy again. Eren’s blood thrummed as the gravity shifted to the wall at his back, his body’s weight shifting to ‘lie’ against the wall with Orbit on top. The warmth disappeared as fast as it’d come.

“We’ll follow the wall, walk past the doorway on the wall above it,” Orbit murmured in low tones. “We’ll have to leave that cape be. We cannot risk the element of surprise being blown for just one of them, with the possibility of him alerting the others.”

Eren appreciated Orbit spelling the situations out for him, because he was as lost as a goose in a snowstorm. Or maybe rational thought had left him. He felt very much driven by his emotions, at the same time trying to convince himself that he was not scared. 

Eren nodded.

Orbit got off him and took a hunched stature on the wall they’d been leaning on previously, now using it as the ground. Eren rose also, trying to emulate the way Orbit started walking, avoiding the potential of being seen.

The voice of the (potentially powered) person grew louder and then faded into the background as they sneaked past. Eren was so concentrated on doing things without fault or noise that he couldn’t even recall what the person had been talking about, other than that it came without responses, so potentially speaking by phone.  

Orbit returned them both to the ordinary ground when they’d put a few doors between themselves and the phone-guy. This place really was large, as they had to walk another corridor before finally arriving at what looked like a large staircase to the main floor.

The blindspot in Eren’s vision disappeared as they neared, revealing Blindspot standing near the corner of the stairs. The red-clothed stepped forward to meet them.

“There are quite a lot of capes down there, sir. I would have liked more time to observe them, but I’m afraid we can’t wait much longer. I do recognize some as Junkyard Aces, but their powers escape me. They seemed to be in a heated discussion with a few other capes I don’t recognize, and I think they’ve already come to blows.” Blindspot looked between them both, scratching his goblin-masked forehead. “They are also trying to breach the vault at the same time, which may be causing the disagreement. The Aces have man advantage, but the others may be more powerful. Maybe they both want the tech? I don’t know… But one of the capes seems like a pacer on the sidelines. I think he’s the most likely to be the Thinker. My suggestion is targeting this one.”

Orbit hummed lowly in his throat, then looked toward the staircase, the future battle. “Which direction would you say? I’ll have to move quickly with E, get us into an optimal position before they can stop us.”

Blindspot pointed his arm in a direction. “Just to the right. You’ll pass behind some capes though, and I don’t know what they’ll have to offer, I was in the fight for too short of a time last time. But should you be able to get this first one, then you have to move rapidly to a new place. They may have Blasters or Shakers.”

“Did they have any visible barrier-makers? They didn’t use any before, but…”

“Not that I noticed. If they haven’t used it yet, I’m gonna assume no. You can move freely,” Blindspot said confidently.

Orbit pointed his arm in the same direction Blindspot had, possibly making a few mental calculations. He turned to Eren.

“I do apologize in advance, but I’ll have to be reckless. I’ll bind us to the opposite wall of the area, trying to hit the possible Thinker straight on. Do you have to use touch or can you use your power from a distance here?”

“Touch is safer, I think,” Eren responded with honesty, discreetly wiping his sweaty palms on the back of his pants.

Orbit nodded in return. “Then I want you to make a grab for the guy as fast as you can and work your little magic. Just put them out of the fight if you can. The plan is not to defeat them, not today at least, today we focus on retreat and getting those people out safely. We’ll put our faith in you. Don’t fumble it. Don’t try to play the hero.” 

Eren knew what Orbit meant and the intention behind them, but the words still hurt. Yet he put up a brave face and nodded. “I’ll see that it happens.”

The Protectorate heroes nodded. 

“We will try to protect you in turn. Try to keep out of the fight, pitch in where you can to make a command. We don’t expect you to get into combat with them, but I cannot control the enemy. You are our jail-card in this matchup.” Orbit clapped him on the shoulder before grabbing his arm as he started walking forward, Eren having no choice but to follow.

Holy fucking shit. He was about to get into a cape fight. A real cape fight! He hadn’t even met another parahuman before today that he could think of. He’d only seen the force of parahuman powers on video. What was he even doing here? Eren felt incredibly out of his element, feeling as though he’d tricked the PRT and Protectorate into asking him for help, despite them being the ones who came to him.

Orbit increased his pace. The grip on his arm was as if made out of iron, non-budging. Eren couldn’t slow down even if he wanted to, rather, he was forced to speed up to match Orbit. His anxiety was both a boon and a bane. It kept him focused, his body wired tight and refusing to trip as it would give them a disadvantage from the get go. On the other hand, Eren’s mind was furiously shuffling through every possibility and mistake that could potentially lead to failure. There were, to be frank, quite many. He felt jittery, his confidence disappearing like drops into the ocean.

In no time at all, and before Eren had truly prepared or processed what was happening, they arrived at the large room. 

Filled with containers and other means of storage, the space was cluttered at the edges with a large opening in the middle. Pillars were strewn across the room to keep the building steady, and surrounded by these stood the gathering. The arguing seemed to be ongoing. That was all Eren had time to notice, before he was infused with warmth and energy yet again, the feeling becoming familiar, and the two parahumans were propelled into the air from their momentum.

It took some milliseconds before the animated chatter in the room died down. 

Eren’s stomach was lurching again, and he had to really fight himself before he oriented himself properly and was able to estimate their trajectory, who their target was. They were flying by steady pillars and steel containers, swishing by a group of people with stunned faces.

The person they were aiming towards was wearing blue. 

As the room seemed to hold its collective breath, the only thing Eren had time to process before touchdown was how surprisingly bland and unimpressive the cape’s mask was, before Orbit and Eren crashed into the parahuman. Orbit's sturdy boots led the way, collecting the parahuman man in a rumbling smash that brought him into the nearby back wall. 

Orbit was the more heavily armored one out of him and Eren, so the Protectorate leader wrapped a firm arm around Eren as they slammed into the wall on top of the unknown enemy cape. The blue-clothed cape gasped as his breath left him out of force, and both Eren and Orbit let out grunts themselves as they met the hard surface and sturdy bones of the body beneath them. 

Orbit let out a short burst of a huff, and forcibly shoved Eren down toward the enemy cape. 

Eren didn’t need words to understand the urgency of the action. He grasped the wrist of the enemy cape in a bone crushing grip, praying that the man wasn’t a Striker who used his power with touch, and mentally searched for the first appropriate command that came to mind. “You cannot join the battle until you’ve counted to ten thousand, start now.”

It was stupid, but it was the first thing he could think of. He couldn’t just say ‘stop’, because then the person could deem the command done after just freezing for a second and be released from it. Eren needed something without a loophole, something to keep them occupied, something that would be a bit harder to fight.

“One, two, three, four…”

The cape had a mask without lenses, so Eren could see the bone-shilling terror in those eyes as they moved up toward him through the counting.

Then all hell broke loose. 

The arguing from before gave rise to yells and bellows, commands and pointing. Eren rapidly stood up and Orbit returned them to the ground quickly. It had all just passed in less than a few seconds, and their element of surprise was dwindling by the beat of their hearts.

“What n—”

Eren didn’t have time to finish the now before Orbit infused him with a small amount of energy and changed his direction of gravity backwards toward the wall behind him with a shove, Eren flying across the room toward the surface. Orbit himself jumped back with elite agility as some type of claws made out of sizzling energy matter cut into the wall where they’d been standing.

Eren let out an ‘oof’ as his back made contact with the wall, and he got to witness Orbit’s true mobility up ahead without Eren as an anchor. The black figure with a barn owl face on top of his own jumped up and sprung off the wall as he changed the gravitational pull on himself to several directions after each other, spinning over the gray-costumed parahuman with the energy claws and a spiky jacket. He brought out a baton and hit the parahuman on the back of a knee and subsequently pulled himself to the wall to avoid the sizzling claws that hovered above the parahuman’s fingers.

Orbit used the parahuman’s shoulder as an anchor as he flew in an arch around him. At the end of the trajectory he must have infused the clawed cape with his power, because claw-guy ended up flying toward the roof with rapid speed. Orbit, having the privilege of mobility control in this matchup, ended up following on his own terms.  

Eren panted from the force his body had just endured, so mesmerized at being able to watch Orbit fight that he almost missed the giant cape that absolutely fucking laucnhed himself at Eren at a supernatural speed. 

Only by the saving grace of adrenaline-triggered reflexes did he quickly roll to the side with a yelp to avoid having bones broken, the parahuman crashing furiously into the wall inches away with stupid force, coming to an abrupt stop.

Eren thought that he just witnessed a man die, but nevertheless beside him, the man with a glimmering mask slowly lifted his head from the concrete, completely covered by gray concrete dust and baring his teeth to Eren. There was no damage to the man’s face, no blood, just a nick in the metallic, flame-shaped mask he was wearing. He’d made a dent in the rock-hard wall, big pieces falling down by his feet with dull crunches. A normal human wouldn’t have survived that force to their head. The giant of a man used his grimy hands to pry himself away from the wall, all while Eren stared in shock.

Brute, run! Eren’s head screamed at him, the boy already scrambling to his feet and starting to run awkwardly on the wall as his temporary ground and squeezing beneath containers, wood and stacked pallets which jutted out from the real ground at his right side. The Blute-classified parahumans were, as a rule, incredibly hard to damage, usually accompanied by superpowered strength and just a general cockroach pain in the ass. This was not a matchup Eren was made for as he’d have to get close to the man to command him, something that the Brute would probably welcome with open arms. Furthermore, Eren would have a hard time focusing on commands if he had a broken sternum or a punched-in face. Not good memories. He got powers from the last time he was threatened with that.

The right play was to run and wait for assistance or hope that the Brute would choose a more eager-to-fight target. Adrenaline surged in his blood, making him feel like he could run for miles. Of course, this was the moment Orbit’s gravitational juice left him, probably from such a small infusion. Eren fell down to the ground in a heap in the small space between the wall and a pallet but wasted no time in getting his feet under him, getting the fuck up, and continuing his escape from the Brute. He was awarded with splinters in his right arm.

“Anesthesia! Boomburst!” the man bellowed behind him.

“On it!” a female voice responded up ahead, and Eren changed direction after he emerged towards the middle of the room to avoid being potentially sandwiched. He had a hard time focusing on what was happening on the other edges of the room with his main concern being the mammoth of a parahuman close on his heels.

Eren had no idea of what to do. His mission was making commands, but he’d have to get close without getting too hurt. He sneaked a peek backwards only to realize in terror that the Brute was getting himself ready now that there was no obstacle between them, potentially for another launch? Was the man a Brute and a Mover? It certainly seemed so, for the cape crouched down with the tips of his fingers on the ground and his feet in a starting position.

Suddenly, the parahuman launched and Eren shrieked, only now belatedly remembering that he had a gun and palming for it, only to be completely startled when a whole ass container rammed into the Brute-Mover with a loud crash, effectively breaking his launch and smashing him into the opposite wall. Eren’s head swiveled in the direction the container had come from.

Orbit stood at a bit of dusted space that suggested that a container had previously resided exactly there. He’d used gravity to launch the container. Their gazes met briefly before Orbit had to dodge another set of slashing claws by jumping back. 

A loud thud sounded in another corner of the room.

“Rocketlaunch!” came a voice from not too far away.

Eren turned around and surveyed his immediate surroundings. He needed to get his head on straight, pay attention to what was around him. A masked woman was the one closest to him, probably the one who had shouted for her friend. She obviously had her sights set on Eren, mouth painted with anger.

Eren turned so that he was facing her, hands trembling with the unknown of the woman’s power. It could be anything. Technically, she could spew a murderbeam out of her mouth in a few seconds. He could be lucky, and she had a power unfit for combat. All Eren needed to do was grab her. Then he’d come out on top. He did have a gun, but many powers could surpass containment foam. They probably couldn’t surpass his power, so that was his first priority. The gun with its three rounds was better used as a backup plan.

They started circling each other, evaluating. Eren waited for the woman to do something, show a hint of her power, but… nothing. Perhaps she was doing the same thing to him. His boots scraped along the dust and sand along the concrete floor. He glanced down quickly, gaining an idea. When he faced the container so that it was visible behind the female cape, he confirmed that the Brute had yet to emerge from the wreckage. Not for a lack of trying though, he could hear the angry yells all the way here.

He had to try distance first. “You should stand down,” Eren said with confidence, praying that his power would obey him. Yet, nothing.

“Never!” the female cape hissed. “You all think you have the moral high ground; ever stopped to think about those with the misfortune of being the stepping blocks of your heroics?”

There was no part of Eren that was truly part of the Protectorate, so he could brush off the statement in good faith. “You have literally hurt people today.”

The circling continued, the cape in front of him shaking her head. “No, that wasn’t us.”

The female parahuman glanced toward the trailer, maybe hoping for aid from her trapped teammate? That couldn’t happen, he had to do it now.

Putting one leg slightly behind himself, he launched himself at the woman. Only — she did the exact same thing at the exact same time, perhaps having had her own thought process that likened that of Eren’s. They both must’ve been surprised at that, but at the same time Eren went for her shoulder, she went for his leg, a battle she won with relative ease. 

A hand grasped his calf, and it just… stopped working. It was the creepiest feeling he’d ever had the unpleasantness of being involved in. His lower left leg fell completely asleep on him, spreading downward from the woman’s hand, making him join her on the ground. So this was Anesthesia.

Eren yelped loudly at the surprise of having the sensory input of his leg disappearing. But it also worked to his advantage; the woman was clearly a Striker, having to touch him to apply her power. In her action, she had also made sure that he was touching her.

“You have to count all the grains of sand in a five meter radius, right now.” Eren’s command was infused with panic, but it got through.

Anesthesia released him and immediately started to pick at the oh so small particles around her, glancing up at him through her mask periodically, annoyed. “One, two, who the fuck do you think you are? Three. Four.”

Eren didn’t have the intention of answering. The lesser they knew, the better. It’d wear off in due time or with enough distraction, but for the moment Anesthesia was effectively disposed of. Eren hurriedly rose to escape her vicinity, but as the proprioception from his left knee down was completely shot it gave out on him, making him land with his elbows on the grainy surface below.

Eren exhaled with anxiety, looking back at the container with fright. The man, Rocketlaunch, could emerge whenever, and now Eren was even more incapacitated. He’d be hit like a cow set up for slaughter. “Come on, come on…”

The motoric function of his leg was fine, but it was a hard time to control it when he didn’t feel it at all. He grabbed his calf to stimulate sensory input in it, but it didn’t respond. He stood up on his right leg instead, locking the left knee in place. Eren hobbled a few steps away, actually gaining quite a few meters of space between himself and Anesthesia before getting greedy and trying to take a larger step — only to make himself lose balance and fall down on one knee again. Nothingness was intermingled with pins and needles and he massaged his leg in pain. The nerves in there were going haywire.

He didn’t pay attention to his surroundings again. Mistake number one, or perhaps in reality fourth or even fifth.

“E!” a voice yelled, and Eren recognized it as coming from Blindspot.

He looked around for the boy, but had trouble finding him with so much happening and because the cape's power literally hindered it. Orbit was fighting both energy claws and a rapid fire teleporter it looked like, who had joined the fray. It couldn’t have been that, Orbit was clearly occupied but in no immediate danger yet.

What Eren instead found in his immediate vicinity while sweeping his perimeter was a brightly glowing orb which was only getting smaller. 

This was not going well at all, and Eren had a very bad feeling about that orb. It was not much larger than a tennis ball right now, rapidly shrinking. He stood up, trying to hobble away from the bright ominous sphere. He threw it a look, seeing it coming down to the size of a coin. He was still pretty close to it.

The orb imploded on itself. The bright light rippled and buzzed for a millisecond, before shooting out a blindingly bright flash. With it came a large thud, just like the ones they’d heard before, Eren found himself thinking. 

What he hadn’t anticipated was the forceful pressurewave. 

Out in the open and with no way to shield himself, Eren could only observe the dust on the ground forcefully whipping up and hastily threw up a forearm to shield his face before he himself was violently hurled backwards into the air.

Chapter Text

Something was ringing. 

Eren’s tongue scraped against the roof of his mouth in a slow motion. He must have caught dust in it or something, his saliva was feeling hideously grainy. The action of moving his tongue felt muddled, a sort of delayed and tiring movement.

The ringing was decidedly not coming from his ears, because noise was quickly returning to him along with his awareness. The ringing must have come from his head instead. It hurt really badly, both sharply and a deeper, more dull throbbing sort of pain. He let in a gasp and then immediately began coughing as the dust whirled around in his airways.

Eren opened his eyes, wincing at the blinding lights. His world felt rocked, and with that he meant that he felt stunned, shocked and knocked the fuck out. He quickly cataloged the peripheral of his body. Okay, so his head definitely hurt, ouch. He was feeling woozy and his vision was kinda swimming a bit there. His left leg still felt offline, but he was starting to get some intense needling in his toes, perhaps a good sign. He was bruised all to hell, probably. He didn’t need to see it to know it. Eren’s body had that kind of aching that signaled to him that trying to move would hurt like a bitch.

His heart was speeding up. Make no mistake, it was already going haywire, but the reality of the situation was that he was outmatched. With it came panic.

“Hey. Hey! Come on, are you alright? Man, that looked rough.” 

Something entered his visual field, forcing the focus of his eyes to the side. He closed his eyes and grunted.

“E? We have to move! He has a cooldown.” It was Blindspot. 

When Eren opened his eyes again he was fully capable of laying his eyes on the young cape. The gobin-masked parahuman must have realized his mistake and pushed the off-button of his power.

“I’m, I’m…” Eren wasn’t entirely sure of what he was trying to say.

“Oh shit, you’re bleeding,” Blindspot put two fingers on the back of Eren’s now hoodless head, coming away with blood. “Not a lot, but you must’ve hit your head.” 

Thank you Captain Obvious. 

“Come on, come on, I’ll help you.” Blindspot urged him to rise, putting his arm under Eren’s and dragging him up to a sitting position.

“Oh, man…” Eren groaned and put a hand on his forehead. Laying on his back had seemed to come with surprisingly little resistance. “M’ gun,” he then mumbled, hurriedly trying to look around with a wince until the yellow and black thing was in his field of vision just a few steps away.

Blindspot did a little huh before following his line of sight. “Oh,” he said and then stretched to return Eren the thing, giving it a look of surprise.

Eren grasped the containment foam gun in a tight grip, feeling a little bit more safe amidst the chaos. He must have been upended in the air for him to lose it. He should have checked for more things he dropped, but his goggles and scarf seemed in place and that seemed good enough. Eren hastily adjusted the scarf so that it again covered his mouth. Thankfully his goggles were large.

Then he thought his eyes were playing a trick on him. A long plank was sliding past him at a brisk pace, followed by scrap, various sizes of metal pieces and other materials. The things scraped on the rough surface of the ground and, looking around, Eren could see that more material was making its way toward a single direction behind them, towards where the vault must be.

Leaning on Blindspot and straining to face the strange pull of the material in the room, Eren could see that it was gathering around a parahuman. Eren looked on with alarm as planks, tarpaulin, plastic waste and various assortments of previously packaged screws and other shit stopped like an aura surrounding the parahuman, before conjugating and wrapping around each other, being reshaped. The assortment began looking more and more human-like, taking after its owner, shielded in the middle of the patchwork of scraps.

Eren tightened his hand on Blindspot’s shoulder. It was beginning to look like an exoskeleton made out of available material, like a giant, hovering, patchwork body armor. When the parahuman underneath flexed his fingers, large protruding splinters of hovering wooden arms followed, like an extension of the body itself.

“It’s okay! That’s Gallimaufry, he’s with us! He was in the vault, but I reached them like I said I would. They’re banged up, but he can help. He can take care of Boomburst, the annoying guy with the orbs, but we have to get out their way.” The young cape looked toward the vault with a tight-lipped mouth.

“The others?” Eren mumbled accompanied by a groan as Blindspot used his strength to heave Eren up into a standing position. It was wobbly, but getting better by the second.

The visible parts of Blindspot’s face turned grim. “Vajra is not doing so well, she got caught by the claws guy in her midsection, we gotta get her out soon. Lorikeet is kind of bird-less at the moment, so she is taking over the medic-role currently. This is a bad matchup for us, especially with Vajra hurt.”

Eren used Blindspot as a crutch and hopped on one leg as they hurried for the wall opposite the Rocketlaunch-container. He grunted at the pins and needles in his left foot. They passed Anesthesia on their way there. “I got two of them,” Eren exhaled with a hiss, “but the claws interrupted before Orbit and me could get something going.”

Blindspot panted, putting down Eren by the wall to lean towards. There was no one in their vicinity, so they would be alright for the time being. Eren was also regaining brain cells by the minute. 

Blindspot huffed. “I, or rather, we don’t know who claws guy or teleporter guy are. We suspect they are separate from the Aces though. They fight more viciously. Orbit will need some help, but neither you nor I are best suited for such powers.”

Eren took a deep breath, shaking off some of the disorientation. They still relied on him, he still needed to make use of his power. “The gun,” he started, gesturing to his other hand. “It has containment foam. I don’t really know how it works, but could it be of use?”

Blindspot grabbed the bulky handgun, inspecting it. “Yeah, while the foam from the tanks is more overwhelming for the opposition, this should at the very least give us an opening. I usually have some foam grenades myself, but most of my inventory has gone towards distracting orb guy. I’m all out of usefulness. This will have to do.”

A thundering smash echoed across the air, making both Blindspot and Eren jump. Following the direction of the sound, it seemed to have been caused by one of the orbs. One of Gallimaufry’s arms had been wretched away in the pressure wave by the imploding orb, but as Boomburst needed his cooldown afterwards, that left an opening for the other arm of the armor-scrapheap to swipe at the villain, taking him off guard and getting him thrown back.

Eren turned back, feeling a little less on edge. Of course, that was the moment Rocketlaunch broke away from the container with a roar, immediately setting his eyes on his previous victim.

Eren squeaked, but Blindside didn’t seem defeated. “Hatter! Your turn!” the young cape bellowed across the space just as Rocketlaunch crouched down with a grin.

The villain launched, but before he could pick up enough speed to fly across the room to threaten the two young capes, something big and burly surged forward from behind some stacked pallets and tackled the launching cape. The burly Protectorate cape was immediately recognizable — Eren had seen the guy on TV just days before — and seemed to absorb enough momentum from Rocketlaunch to stop him in his tracks.

Chad Hatter, the armored and primitive knight. Even with half a room between them, Eren honed in on the insectic mask as well as the carapace that seemed to come out of the parahuman’s skin. The same material seemed to make out his suit in an extra layer of defense. In both his hands he held a lance that he used to crosscheck the launching villain to the ground. Rocketlaunch seemed to be taken care of, for the moment. Chad Hatter had Brute qualities right? Brute on Brute seemed like a matchup the Protectorate were gunning for.

Eren puffed out a breath in relief just as more scrap from the Gallimaufry and Boomburst fight flew over their heads, accompanied by dust. Eren put up an arm to shield the exposed parts of his face.

The brown-haired cape threw a hasty look in Orbit’s direction. The man used gravity like the proper weapon it was, slamming the opposition against walls and ground and keeping himself mobile to avoid jabs and claws. It was another stall, not enough to move the fight forward but the Protectorate leader was keeping his head above water. They’d need to help to really take the villain capes down. Eren winced and switched his focus to Blindspot. The two were in no man’s land.

Blindspot let out an excited giggle. “Alright, this is already a better start. No ambush against us, and more favorable matchups with what we have. But we’re still at a standstill, I’m afraid. You doing any better?”

Eren nodded and planted a hand against the wall to steady himself without the help of Blindspot. “Yeah. Not a hundred percent, or even close to it, but get me close to a cape and I can use my power, definitely.”

“We can do that. We just have to…” Blindspot stopped mid-sentence in a peculiar manner, making Eren freeze in alarm. The hero looked over Eren’s shoulder with widening eyes. “Shit, oh shit, move!”

Eren threw a frantic look over his shoulder only to one, realize that the teleporter guy had suddenly broken away from Orbit and energy claws, and two, that he had his sights set on the two more vulnerable guys in Eren and Blindspot, coming straight here. A hyena looking at prey, going for the easier fight.

Eren scrambled to get the gun ready and aimed at the oncoming guy. He had a hard time concentrating, his arm and hand shaking. He squinted, feeling his headache thundering before he started panicking, making his finger pull the trigger. Unfortunately, the bad guy had the advantage of teleportation and easily avoided the shot by flickering out of place, making the blobby mass land behind him where he previously stood and expanding into a sticky but useless mass on the concrete floor. 

Eren blinked in surprise at his stupidity. He then switched tactics, observing the oncoming parahuman while starting to shuffle backwards with uncertainty.

The thing was, when you watched a parahuman for a while you started to build yourself a puzzle and map of their powerset. Yes, parahuman powers were forceful and often versatile in use, but most powers came with some type of limitation to even out the playing field. Eren’s had some type of condition that he hadn’t yet figured out, Orbit got tired while using his, and while Blindspot had a hard time getting hit, his power didn’t lend itself well to offensive use other than the parahuman’s innate fighting skills.

When Eren watched the transporter, he saw a power that had low range and was done in quick surges. One, two, three, four and five, that was the number of times the parahuman teleported forward in rapidfire before he started running again. Even still, this information did little in the way of helping them right now. 

Eren looked at his gun quickly before pocketing it. He had no shot of using it against a guy that could pop away the moment a gun was pointed at him. No, they had to figure out something else. However, Eren’s brain was practically scrambled eggs at the moment. As his stress mounted the indecision also became a factor. Should he run? He was in no condition to run. Should he confront? He didn’t know much about fighting despite his school antics. The end result? Eren froze in place.

Beyond the rapidly approaching parahuman, Orbit threw them an alarmed look and growled, something Eren only became aware of because he wanted an external miracle to happen. The young cape threw the older one a frightened gaze. 

The leader was panting, clearly tired, but he hurled the claws guy to the wall in the opposite direction to momentarily become rid of him and then changed his own point of gravity to fly after the teleporter. He had no momentum going into the fall, so he had a hard time catching up.

Blindspot turned into a blindspot for Eren as he activated his power, but not before bringing out a small knife. Having a hard time focusing on the young cape, Eren instead anchored his gaze to the parahuman as he backed away with Blindspot brushing his side, urging him back.

The shadow in Eren’s peripheral surged forward to attack in self-defense, but the knife must have met air, because the transporter started his siege by popping in and out around the dark blob, already having a good feel for where the young Protectorate hero was before the onset of his power.

The shadow of Blindspot disappeared downwards with a grunt; Eren had the feeling that the cape had been knocked to his knees. Having a hard time looking in that direction, Eren didn’t know if he should try to fight the cape himself or try to grab at the parahuman to help Blindspot. He continued to shuffle backwards while his blood pressure skyrocketed, patting his pockets for something of use. Nothing. Eren kept his eyes on the teleporter as he knelt down, feeling around on the ground for a stone or something otherwise blunt or pointy. His fingers only met dust.

Then the teleporter turned around on Eren. The other cape must have recognized his expression, for the other one was harboring a sneer. Eren rose just as the cape started another quintuple of fast teleportations in a linear line to Eren. Before Eren could even react he was tackled to the ground with a heavy push. The only thing the young cape thought in that moment was keep your head up, keep your head up in order to avoid having it smashed against the ground again. He had a feeling that his brain would not have liked another rattle in this condition.

Instead his curved spine took the brunt of the concrete, making Eren wince. He tried to keep moving even if it was slow, and tried to immediately rise. In a split second punches rained down on him amidst teleportations, the touch too brief for him to be able to issue a command. The cape plopped in and out, slippery and too fast. Eren couldn’t keep up, and as another fist hit his shoulder he didn’t think he could force himself to stand upright anymore.

Thank god, that was when Orbit intervened. When the other cape was in one of his transporter lulls, Orbit used force to wretch the transporter away from Eren. The villain immediately recognized the more dangerous foe of the group, instead turning his attention on the while-clothed parahuman. The Protectorate leader was more prepared for the hit thrown his way, using the brief touch as a trap to infuse the teleporter with energy to change his gravity to the wall beside them. That seemed to disorient the Mover enough for him to refrain from using his power. Bad move, on his part.

Because Orbit didn’t stop there. The exhaustion must have been pushing him at this point, but nevertheless he kept infusing the man to the wall with a roar of determination, pushing all that exhaustion aside to save the two younglings. After a few infusions, the villain had trouble moving his arms, or at all. The density of the gravity must have been gigantic.

Eren slowly sank down to sit on his behind, the world around him spinning.

“E!” Orbit grunted loudly, still holding on tightly to the parahuman. Eren still had to do his job. The villain in question tried to teleport, but the gravity affected his supernatural movement as well, reducing his meter-long teleport to a few millimeters, not enough to completely escape Orbit. The five rapid fire surges only amounted to a couple of centimeters together, at most.

Eren could not do much but crawl at this point, dragging himself to the ankle of the villain teleporter and grabbing it in a death grip. He had nanoseconds to come up with a fitting command. He also had to be specific to the person this time, as he had people around him. He couldn’t risk catching their ire. “You in front of me, you will not move from your spot even a micrometer until you’ve clicked your fingers 1000 times or this fight is over. And don’t speak.”

Maybe it was a bit of a cruel one, but Eren knew it would keep the guy from teleporting. He’d also have to slow the snapping when the pads of his fingers started to hurt, but Eren was too far gone to care. His headache was getting worse and the body aches were taking him back to a dark part of his life.

Click, click, click.

“Oh my god,” Blindspot proclaimed, shutting his power off like a snap and sitting down, heavily breathing. “I’m so bad at this.”

Click, click.

Eren’s head was kinda lolling to the side himself, also feeling pretty defeated by his performance today. Not only had he gotten his ass kicked, he had also needed to be saved again and again. Be tried to desperately convince himself that the others had parahuman battle experience, as well as fight training probably, but he felt like this should have gone better. He leaned back against the wall, careful to not be too close to the legs of the teleporter while Orbit spoke up.

“Blindspot, keep track of the claws.”

An answering hum was heard.

Click, click.

Orbit sat down in a squat in front of Eren. “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah,” Eren said in a humorless laugh. “Kinda got caught in a blast. Didn’t see it coming. Like at all.” His palm swept in front of him to add weight to his last words, also kind of forgetting himself and signing corresponding words together with his talking.

The Protectorate leader followed the action, Eren got a feeling that it was with concern, and watched as Orbit discarded his gloves before he took a gentle hold of both sides of Eren’s head with his hands. He felt around it, paused when he felt the blood and brought his hand back to confirm its presence. Orbit hummed lowly in his throat as he continued the inspection, mumbling a sorry when Eren whined at the most aching at the back.

“I think… you may have a concussion, mild to moderate.” The hero was still for a few moments. He clenched his hands in the air a few times, looking down at his own lap. “I don’t like to have to ask this of you, but do you have one more command in you? We have to take down the Shaker-Blaster with the orbs to allow for the PRT to arrive safely from behind. In doing that, we create a path out, and those of us who are healthy together with the PRT should be enough to counter the assembly outside.”

Eren bit his lip, willing himself to stay strong. “Yes, I’ll try. But I feel sluggish, I don’t know how effective I’ll be at moving.”

Orbit nodded, resting one hand on Eren’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of that. Blindspot, energy bars?”

Eren watched with weary eyes as Blindspot produced an energy bar from one of his many pockets, stare still trained on an object further away, the claws. The goblin-masked hero turned it over to Orbit.

Click. Click, click.

Orbit tore the plastic and lifted his mask up only just enough for Eren to get a peek at a strong jaw. Eren then looked away out of respect for the hero’s privacy.

The energy bar was gobbled up fast enough. Orbit then rolled his shoulders and looked down along the wall. Eren followed his gaze and watched the energy-clawed cape struggle to climb the floor toward them with his claws burning into the ground. His point of gravity was still to the wall underneath him, no easy way toward them. His claws had also started flickering, perhaps tiring?

With Claws temporarily dealt with, they turned their attention toward the others in the room. 

Chad Hatter was wrestling with Rocketlaunch, not really in need of any help. With all powers having a limit, perhaps Rocketlaunch was less stronger if not in launch? It certainly looked that way, and in that case Chad Hatter certainly had weight advantage with all that carapace.

Gallimaufry was in a deadlock with Boomburst, the orbs-guy. Gallimaufry’s exo-armor was heavily damaged, but with him gathering new material constantly, it seemed like he could continue to take the pressure waves. The problem was being speedy enough to get at Boomburst while also avoiding the range-attack of the orbs, it looked like. Boomburst was also more mobile.

Click, click, click, click.

Eren looked up at the trapped cape in annoyance. Alright, perhaps not his most genious plan. But back to their main problem. Eren had to really concentrate to focus on the task at hand. He wasn’t feeling too good. “So… plan?”

They all crouched down to Eren’s level, before Orbit resumed his leadership. “Alright then. The gun?”

Eren wordlessly yanked the thing loose from his pocket and handed it out towards Orbit.

The leader inclined his head toward Blindspot instead. “Blindspot, I reckon you can use that to get Boomburst stuck to the ground without being seen beforehand?”

Eren flicked his eyes over to the goblin, moving his hand with the gun toward him instead.

“Yes, absolutely now that he’s distracted,” Blindspot answered with confidence.

“Good, then get as close as you can. If you still have the third shot left afterwards, I want you to try to get the clawed one stuck as well. The gravity will hold for a while, but not any longer than that. I tried to put much into it,” Orbit declared and then moved his head toward Eren.

Blindspot took the foam-gun from Eren and tried out a firm grip.

Orbit continued. “E, I’ll try to move with you on my back. Should our plan go poorly, I can try to launch us to get there faster. I want you to tell him to leave the area. The others we can handle, but the damage of the orbs is a threat I don’t want to have near as we evacuate the wounded and civilians. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Eren said with a nod. He was feeling oh so tired, he just wanted to rest. But if he could do this, then it would have been worth it in the end. Then he would have incapacitated four parahumans to allow for evacuation, and he would be proud of that.

Blindspot stood up. “I’ll move immediately. Just focus on the cape and you’ll see if I succeeded.” Then, the parahuman hesitated. “What if I fail, though?”

“You won’t. But if it soothes your worries, then we’ll do it with brute force as a plan B. Try to get a signal to Galli.”

Blindspot sucked in a breath. “Oki dokey, I’ll see you in a minute.” The power was turned on, and then Blindspot disappeared. 

Eren turned his eyes on Orbit, noticing that the cape was rolling his shoulder again. “How are you doing?”

Orbit sighed, meanwhile setting his eyes on Boomburst. “Alright. It gets tiring switching gravity so many times in a short period and the dumbfuck with claws nicked me in the upper arm, but I’ve had much worse.”

Eren was just to ask if he could do anything, but Orbit interrupted him when he noticed. “I don’t need your pity, I can handle it. Now focus. I’ll try to cover ground first, but have strength in your grip on me at all times if I’ll have to launch us.”

Eren closed his mouth resoundingly and turned his attention to Boomburst and Gallimaufry.

Orbit started to stand up, gesturing to Eren to do the same. He did, taking help from the wall. The pain had set in now that he’d been still for a while, allowing his body to categorize every which way it was hurt.

Orbit then crouched down again, allowing Eren to grasp the man’s shoulders and hook his legs around Orbit’s hip securely. It felt a bit awkward, but Eren wasn’t in a state to run across the room.

“Does it feel alright, you’re not gonna fall?” Orbit questioned, rising up and testing his mobility as well as Eren’s strength.

“Mm, it’s the best I can manage.”

“Okay. Hook your arms together around my neck to keep somewhat steady if you start to feel woozy, or tell me.”

“Mhm,” Eren confirmed, looking over Orbit’s shoulder towards the battle in front. He had no idea of where Blindspot was currently.

That changed as Orbit started sprinting. A shot was heard, and Eren squinted to see where it hit. Unfortunately, the foam had just nicked the back part of Boomburst’s shoe as he had been in the process of starting to move. Fortunately, the foam was expanding and was sticky as hell. Orbit seemed to lighten his own gravitational pull to the ground for his steps became longer than normal as they sped forward.

But Boomburst was smart. He wretched his foot loose from the stuck-in-place shoe and spun around just as a fist of wood and metal hit the ground where he’d just been standing. He ducked underneath the arm out of sight of Gallimaufry, and in the process set his eyes on Orbit and Eren approaching, eyes behind the yellow-tinted lenses widening in realization that he was about to be surrounded three against one.

Four against one in reality, but he didn’t need to know that.

The villain set an orb free. The air shimmered before it materialized in Orbit and Eren’s path, beginning in the size of a basketball and rapidly shrinking whilst collecting some sort of energy.

“Fuck!” Orbit spat, careening into the air as he quickly and uncontrolled changed their pull upwards. With their momentum they flew up in an arch over the combustible orb, now in tennis ball size. 

Eren knew that it wouldn't be long now, and he tightened his grip around Orbit’s neck and chest to clamber close, squeezing his eyes almost to a close. He could feel a hand latch on to his forearm.

Thud.

The dust and sand on the ground whipped up furiously in an angry cloud, bringing scrap from Gallimaufry’s suit with it. But up above the orb, the pressure seemed more mild. A weak spot perhaps? Wind still caught Eren’s head forcefully and he hissed as hairs and dust fought over his head wound. 

Orbit forced a piece of wood to the side with a touch. He seemed discontent at bringing them fully up on the ceiling, so he reversed the pull downwards again, Eren could feel it happening, so they could complete their half-moon arch across the space. 

Blindspot seemed more on it this time, not to be fooled twice. The third and final shot rang out from a different direction with a dull plop across the air, producing the foam in its inactive state to be spewed across Boomburst’s bare foot. Got him. The stickiness expanded like a malicious fungus, successfully trapping the Ace to the ground. 

Boomburst immediately recognized his predicament.

Gallimaufry used a large chaotically organized hand to grab one of the parahumans arms, effectively trapping him in place.

Orbit in turn finally returned to the ground, landing with as much grace as he could muster while being tired and having a banged up Eren on his back. The leader squatted down to allow Eren to get off. With Eren’s knees almost buckling when stepping down though, the leader decided it was best to grab one elbow and lead the young cape up to the company up ahead.

Blindspot joined the alliance at the same time, shedding his Stranger powers. 

“Good job, everyone,” Orbit said as they joined forces around the trapped orb guy. “E, your turn. Do it quickly, he could spew one of those things out any second.”

Eren released Orbit's elbow and instead took support by bringing his hand along the sturdy armor-arm of Gallimaufry without asking, walking up to the villian. In the distance, echoes of the wrestling of the two juggernauts could still be heard.

Eren stopped in front of Boomburst, holding out his hands to take a hold of the other’s head. “What do you want me to say, exactly?”

Orbit stepped forward to stand beside Eren, taking hold of the villians other flailing arm, completely incapacitating him. “I want him to leave, not be able to use his powers, and take his teammates with him. We won’t have the personnel to safely contain them all, besides, it’s the other party I’m mostly worried about. These ones, they’re just misguided kids.” Orbit shook his head.

Eren nodded in confirmation, turning toward the cape and concentrating, looking into his very eyes so that the recipient of his power couldn’t be questioned. He spoke slowly. “I want you to leave this place. You will not use your power in a mile radius of this building. Every time you even think of this building, you will be hit by an uncontrollable fear. You picture your teammates all defeated in gruesome ways. You want to leave this place desperately and to not return, right at this moment. It is best if you take your teammates with you. Who wonders what could happen to them otherwise?”

“Solvent,” Orbit hurriedly urged as Boomburst ricocheted back, eyes wide, pulling on his stuck foot.

Blindspot surged forward while popping a vial open, just as steps thundered down the staircase just briefly to their right. 

Eren wearily turned his head toward the noise, seeing the oh so familiar riot gear of the PRT enter the fray. A little bit too late, but at least they could help with cleanup. And then there was the situation outside. That would also probably be resolved, as the capes and gang-affiliated non-humans would be ambushed.

That meant Eren could rest, right?

His head hung low as he returned his gaze to what was happening in front. The liquid in Blindspot’s vial that had been applied to the sticky mess started to loosen up the foam, causing Boomburst to be able to rip himself free. The cape had to follow Eren’s orders though. Boomburst crawled backwards with fear, before scrambling up and breaking into a run towards Anesthesia while yelling for Rocketlaunch, the only one of the Aces capes that could technically fight. But the Brute could not win by himself, he would have no choice to retreat, especially as the rest of his friends were leaving.

“Creepy,” Blindspot said while following the cape with his eyes.

At the same time, “What on Earth…” was mumbled from within the large armor scrapheap to their side, not a wholly unexpected reaction to Eren’s powers.

The PRT entourage was meanwhile securing the perimeter, a leading group breaking away and approaching Orbit. A third group was already making their way to the large sliding doors to the outside, following the retreating capes to put some pressure on their heels.

Eren didn’t recognize the PRT official in front. But he did recognize Magath, who was hanging back in the group.

Eren was swaying lightly on his feet. This didn’t escape Orbit.

“It seemed we missed the bulk of it,” the officer acknowledged. “Yet this is far from over.”

Orbit cracked his neck while keeping a close eye on those in front of him. “You would be right on both of those points.” Then the black-hooded parahuman gestured to Eren, turning his mask in the direction of Magath. “You should take him home. He’s done his part, and he can barely stand up straight.”

A stubborn part of Eren would like to be a little shit about it, prove his worth and that he could go on. But with the battle somewhat settled, every feeling of every bruise of today became magnified. Every collision with a wall, every punch, the contusion and wound to his head; it was all weighing on him. He was feeling amped up mentally, but it was only so much one could do then your body failed you, and his was giving up on him now that he was safe.

Orbit reached out to have a hand hover over his shoulder so that he wouldn’t fall as Magath took a few steps forward. “Agreed. It’s better if we move on, getting you out of here. The rest of us will take it from here.”

Officers accompanying Magath helped the man keep Eren up standing as they moved to take him away. 

Orbit took a last grasp of the fabric of his shoulder. “Hey. You did well today. I will not forget this.”

Eren was pretty far gone psychologically at this point, gawking at the kind words thrown his way. He absolutely ate them up, feeling them hum gently and in a precious manner inside his chest. Motherfreaking Orbit had just said that to him. A superstar. A celebrity. Thanking Eren for his help. 

As the grasp on his shoulder was let go and he was led away toward the staircase Eren couldn’t help but look back at the barn owl face, for as long as he could, before everything grew fuzzy. He wouldn’t really remember much until he was sitting in the PRT car on the way home with an ice pack held to his head.

Today changed something. It was a tiny spark, oh so tiny, just enough to cast a small glimmer. But it sparked something in Eren as well. He knew now. He knew that it was possible to do good with this power. Even if the PRT would not let him, there had to be a way to make it happen again.

After all, Eren had never been someone to play by the rules.

Chapter Text

As the dust settled on the battlefield, Levi still wondered how it had come to end up like this in the first place.

It couldn’t happen. It shouldn’t happen. Yet, they’d been pounced on the moment they showed an inch of misguided trust in this city. It was supposed to be an easy mission, the kind one forgot after an exhausting day, never to think of again. 

Levi couldn’t help but blame himself. He should have known better. He did know better. He shouldn’t have sent such a large contingent of Protectorate capes off to Montreal just because things were in a lull. He shouldn’t have refrained from setting up scouts outside. He shouldn’t have let his pride get in the way of the offer of support from the PRT. 

Levi stood in the middle of the large space which had previously been a battleground. The capes outside had scattered, off to the stinky holes they came from to lick their wounds. The ones inside had scrambled too. The third party remained unknown, its members also scuttling into the shadows when the chaos began. Aside from their lives, the Protectorate had nothing to show for their efforts. 

Not even all lives, in some cases. Levi tracked the stretcher in the corner of his eyes as it was rolled outside. The black blanket covering the body was ominously tragic.

The civilian’s life had not been able to be saved. The dockworker had been slashed by the sizzling claws in the beginning of the battle, wounding him gravely only for him to later fade away completely into the afterlife. The man had gone above and beyond doing his job, knowing it was dangerous, yet still doing his part for the safety of the city together with his brethren by sneakily confiscating illegal Tinker tech and notifying the PRT. Levi would stop by the man’s relatives later and pay his respects and offer his condolences. It was the least he could do.

The Protectorate had been more lucky. Historia was also being rolled out on a stretcher, being hurried to the compound to be looked over by their doctors, a discreet affair in order to hide the fact that parahumans could be easily wounded from the public. They felt more safe under their naive beliefs that their capes were invincible. The slash marks were more superficial, indicating that she would make a full recovery with immediate treatment.

Levi stared down at his boots, now covered with the ashes that were sailing in from outside with the rapidly accelerating breeze. It was that kind of day, he supposed. He reckoned it would even storm tomorrow. It always brought him discomfort. If it was a particular bad one, he would refuse to go out on patrol.

The others understood. They all understood. They all had been there themselves, to get where they are now.

Levi had the urge to take off his white mask and black hood, just for a minute to feel the ocean air cool his skin and breathe in the freshness of the dampness. 

He couldn’t. Levi was the protectorate leader right now, he had appearances to keep up, an identity to keep hidden, a reputation to uphold. Sometimes it could be so tiring. But he had to remember that it was a blessing most of the time. A privilege.

Deciding that he had given himself enough time for a minute of sulkiness, Levi rolled his shoulders and straightened. He started walking in the direction of the vault, where many of the others had gathered for a debriefing.

Ugh. It would be so much fucking work after this. Clean-up would have to be organized. Paperwork. So much paperwork. Treating injuries. Passing of information. The Wards had to be updated. He would have to sign stuff. Not to talk about the PR. However, that in particular Shadis would have to coordinate. Levi would be an unwilling participant, the face in front of the cameras. He was already dreading the inevitable press conference where he would juggle the difficult questions with a professional straight face. Eh, an owl face at least. Yet, it was a necessary evil. The PR machine never stopped rolling, for the betterment of parahuman regard in society.

Levi wouldn’t be the first one to admit that he was physically tired, but it became apparent when his boot accidently hit something light on the ground. First thing, he hadn’t seen it. Second, his feet had been dragging enough for his boot to get tangled in the thing in the first place. 

The hero looked down on it. It was a… small leather book? Wallet? A pouch? The thing with the keychain accessory stood out amongst the grime of the place surrounding it, prompting Levi to pick it up, turning it over with a frown. What was this thing doing here? A remnant of one of the capes? He opened it, inside facing toward him, and immediately regretted it. He snapped the wallet closed with a tired exhale.

But the image had already been imprinted on his retinas, unable to be forgotten.

EREN JAEGER, accompanied by a photo of a boy with a brown mop of hair.

An identification card. Levi could recognize the messy hairstyle, he’d seen it hours before. E, Eren. 

That fucking idiot.

Levi passed a quick eye over his surroundings, making sure that no one had seen, or been close to the wallet. Had it been anyone other than Levi, this would have been a very bad thing for the owner of this wallet.

Dumb, idiotic, moron.

Levi clenched his jaw, breathed deeply for a couple of seconds. He then pocketed the thing in a secure pocket. One with zips, in contrast to other people. 

The leader had to deal with that later. For now he had to get back to his team and await the arrival of Anthem and the rest of the Mitras capes. Somehow, some of the tinker tech supposed to be in the vault was missing. Stolen. It hadn’t been at the start of the fight.

Levi could already now feel the faint beginnings of a hell of a headache in his head. 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Levi lay in waiting, leaning against a wall in the Protectorate living quarters. What he was about to do definitely broke protocol, but his curiosity had been piqued. Something didn’t sit right with him. 

The Protectorate leader was just outside the common rooms. Connie was a creature of habit. His day had a routine and it hadn’t taken Levi long after the young cape’s graduation from the Wards to map these specific times out. Few things could break this routine, like missions and cape-stuff. Connie did become a different person under the mask. More loose, able to release his inhibitions. 

Strangers usually had those problems. Their trigger events often included self-escape, turning their feelings inward. Something had happened to Connie to make him want to disappear from others thoughts and minds. It was Levi’s responsibility to offer support with these things, and to know about his teammates. Still, he didn’t press unnecessarily. Connie looked up to Orbit. He was more timid around Levi. It bordered on strong antisociality.

Right on time, steps could be heard down the corridor. Levi nodded his head in rhythm with the steps and counted down in his head, before whipping around the corner, making the young parahuman jump and smile timidly.

“Levi,” he greeted. Probably not used to seeing Levi heading to the common rooms at this time.

“Hello,” Levi answered, slowing down. “Just who I was looking for,” he continued, trying to make this seem like a convenient coincidence. 

“You were looking for me?” Connie asked, expression immediately morphing into a frown, hands being shoved into his pockets in a blatant showing of uncertainty.

“Mhm,” Levi said and tilted his head. He was making sure that there were no others in the corridor. “I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor?”

“That’s right. How would you like… a personal mission?” This was Levi’s way of bringing Connie out of his shell.

“Powers involved?” The young cape countered, eyes lighting up a smidge.

“Yes. Can you sneak in unseen to the archive?”

Connie exhaled in a suddenly confident whoosh. “I mean, of course. Honestly, I have done it before to read up on past capes. I was going to tell you, but…” The cape scratched at his neck.

Levi held up a hand. “I’ll look the other way regarding that if you do this for me, even steven.”

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” Connie fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, already partially sailing off mentally, probably to think of a plan of approach.

“I want you to get a file in the archive for me. One Eren Jaeger. You are under no circumstances to read it. Just get it to me.” Levi threw his hair back, acting like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Sure thing, boss. May I ask what it’s all about? Is it about last night? A lead in the missing Tinker tech?” Connie shuffled his feet, growing impatient now that he had a new mission to focus on.

“No,” Levi lied. “This is a personal project of mine. But it would be for the best if we don’t speak of this after today.” He had to lie, for the sake of the other boy. 

Something was odd. So the PRT had had such a powerful parahuman in their back pocket, with no notice to the rest of them. He wanted to find out why. Who was Eren Jaeger?

When Connie nodded and darted off without much more fanfare, Levi waited a minute before he calmly walked back the way he’d come. All he could do now was wait.

Chapter Text

“OUCH!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry…”

Armin’s tongue poked out of his mouth as he concentrated on dabbing Eren’s palm with hydrogen peroxide all the while Eren’s dad Grisha hovered with worry in the bathroom doorway. There was a lot of grime to get rid of, stuck deeply into the abrasions with the force that had first squeezed the particles in there. Armin had even had to bring out the tweezers and Eren knew from experience that tweezers plus wound equals a very bad, not-very-good time.

They were all completely tuckered out too, with it being in the middle of the night and all. Dad must have gotten wind of what he’d been up to at some point, perhaps from the PRT themselves, and thus hightailed it home from his trip. Mom had not been as fortunate with the distance on her trip and was not home yet, but last Eren heard from her she was livid and going at it with the PRT. 

Dad was less than happy himself, but was more in the mindset that done was done and doing damage-control. Or rather, watching Armin do damage control, Eren mused. The younger had the more steady hands and had shown enough interest in medicine to know what he was doing. Which also meant that Eren really would be forced to rest for the coming week because of his concussion. Armin would see to it. The doctors at the emergency site only had enough time to diagnose his concussion and give him a few pieces of medical advice before having to move on, in part because of other patients but also because of the impatient officers who wanted him off-site yesterday.

The constant headache and his various symptoms were really putting a damper on his night. The light was too bright, there was an annoying pressure in his head, slight vertigo and overall mild nausea but no actual vomiting. Nothing to really warrant acute worrying or hospitalization but also being a real pain in the ass of day-to-day living. And that was only a few short hours since his head was nearly splattered on the ground. Actually, Eren couldn’t really remember how his head was hit after the launch, but that was another side effect of the concussion. He felt dumbed down, like his head didn’t sit right on his shoulders.

He should probably sleep. For like 12 hours. Honestly, nothing was stopping him. Eren wouldn’t be going to school for at least a couple of days.

“Boys, I’m going to the kitchen to make some sandwiches. Think we all could use it right now,” dad sighed, hand leaving the door frame.

“That sounds wonderful, Mr. Jaeger,” Armin hummed from his spot on the ground while Eren grunted his approval.

Grisha nodded, disappearing from the doorway, steps echoing until they could be heard lumbering down the stairs.

Armin’s posture changed, until he sat up straight and bore his eyes onto Eren. Eren knew that he was ready to finally address the elephant in the room.

“Eren, what the frick happened out there?”

“Oh, you’re never going to believe me,” Eren muttered, followed by a hiss as he rolled up his pant leg for Armin to look at the abrasion there. He hadn’t felt the pain while his knee had been offline earlier, but the wound was making its presence known now.

Armin discarded the previous cotton pad and swab, picking up new ones from their respective piles. “I saw you leave with a whole Parahuman Response Team squad and saw you return all bruised up and beat. I’m not stupid. You went on a mission with them, didn’t you?” He poured new hydrogen peroxide on the pad.

Eren inhaled sharply through his teeth as the pad was put against the bloody abrasion that ran like a stripe up his knee. “Not only that. I got to run a rescue mission with Orbit, of all people.”

Armin shook and fumbled with the pad until it fell and landed pathetically upside-down on the floor tiles. “You what?!” he squeaked in a pitch that should be impossible and grabbed Eren’s calf in a don’t-fuck-with-me kind of way.

“Honestly I can hardly believe it myself,” Eren mumbled absentmindedly.

“Wait, you were there? At the docks?” Armin grimaced at the probably contaminated cotton pad and threw it into the trash.

Eren let out a sigh and rubbed at his head. “Yeah, I was. They truly, for some reason, thought that I was the best option to help. I think I rather stumbled my way to victory but… Yeah.”

“Oh wow.” Armin sat back on his heels. “It feels out of character for them. Not to mention reckless.”

Eren watched Armin prepare a new cotton pad with the sterile liquid. “I guess. They certainly felt desperate enough, even so. Had precautions and everything against me though, I don’t exactly think we're near any sort of trust despite tonight.”

Armin pursed his lips. “That’s not what I meant by reckless. What I meant, is that they put you in real danger. You have no experience out there, like they have. When we’ve talked about this before, I have meant small time stuff. Maybe stop a purse-robbery or something. This was really bad, Eren. You could have died.”  

Eren clenched his jaw as Armin started cleaning the wound on his knee again. “I didn’t really think about it in that way,” Eren revealed. “I could have said no. They would not be able to force me and no one else would be any wiser about it. It would have been another tiny footnote in the history between me and the PRT. But there was one thing offered here that I hadn’t had before — opportunity. They came to me, Armin. Do you realize how big that is? They went on and on about how this was a one-time thing. But it meant that they saw this as a possibility that could work. I actually saw it work.”

Armin took the tweezers and yanked another minuscule particle of stone or sand out. “And I’m happy for you. But I cannot help thinking that they took advantage of you. You’re a good person, Eren. If I would have known you’d say yes in that situation, so do they, I think. I just think all this gives me a bad taste. It wasn’t right to bring you into that without any sort of preparation. Like I said, you could’ve been killed, or maimed or scarred for life. Parahumans are no joke and extremely unpredictable.”

“There’s the codes,” Eren mumbled, like it was another excuse for him to have been there.

Armin snorted, like he couldn’t help it as he put the cotton pad down on the counter. “There’s so much contradicting info out there on the codes and how important they are, and yet I think they’re all just glorified fabrications that capes use as they see fit. If there was a scared parahuman gang member with a gun, and you were between that one and the only exit out of an impossible situation, what would stop them from pulling the trigger?”

“Asking me these questions while I have a concussion? Low blow, Armin,” Eren grunted. “But uh, I guess I would have to say honor?”

Armin seemed to be on the warpath tonight. “Honor is for those who have something to lose in the future. I’m of the opinion that the gang member in question would absolutely pull the trigger and deal with the consequences tomorrow. The codes are broken. And then what? Yes, I think the codes are good for society because they do wither many storms, but don’t count on them to save you in a pinch when it’s life or death.”

“I didn’t think you would be so fatalistic about this,” Eren replied while Armin applied a salve for the pain on the wound.

“I don’t think of it as fatalistic,” Armin said slowly. “But rather, realistic. If the PRT are starting to drag you into their business they won't think of what’s best for you, that I think we can agree on. But I will. So this is me telling you that the PRT was idiotic by dragging you blind into their war with next to no regard for your safety. Whatever they think of you as, they still have to treat you as if you were a civilian because they don’t recognize you as a free parahuman. They didn’t do that tonight.”

Eren’s mouth twitched before growing into a smile as Armin covered the wound with a wound dressing. The brown haired cape then leaned forward and lightly embraced Armin’s shoulders. “What would I do without you,” he murmured. “Thank you for always being one I can count on.”

“Well, you make it worth it,” Armin said into his shoulder. The grin could be heard in his voice. “But really though, I am so glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, me too,” Eren said honestly while withdrawing. “It was scary, but in some way fulfilling. It felt good. It felt nice to know that my powers could make a difference.”

Armin brought all the cotton and plastic on the ground into a neat pile on the bathroom tiles. This had been a drawn-out process. “So the Make-Eren-A-Hero project is still ongoing?”

Eren grimaged. “I don’t like that name. I’d rather call it the Gain-Eren-Some-Freedom project. Being able to stop a… purse robbery would just be a nice side-effect. And I’m not fully on board with that either. This would be a project with many parameters, we’ll have to be smart.”

“Of course,” Armin said while dropping the pile off in the trash can to the left of the toilet. “With the PRT being the ones to approach you, we can change our plans a bit. Actually, I would say that we should begin building you a case over the next month, as fast as possible while it’s still fresh. They owe you. But I think this is a conversation for another day,” Armin finished as he watched Eren’s head droop a little.

Eren forced a yawn to stop in his throat. “You still haven’t asked me about the Protectorate capes.”

Armin inhaled deeply and slapped his knees. “Well, now you were the one who brought this up, you can’t blame me for asking now,” the blonde boy said with starlight in his eyes. 

Eren chuckled tiredly. “Come, I can tell you over those sandwiches,” he promised as he took help from the counter to rise. The vertigo was nasty, but not too bad.

Armin took his arm as they wandered out of the room.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The press conference was being held the next day. 

Eren had remained at home like he’d been told to, being bored out of his mind. He’d watched old familiar Disney movies, not feeling up to try new territory with his head being a little bitch. Armin joined him after school hours, not trusting Eren to be alone for too long, apparently.

The PRT was too busy to send guards it appeared, but as Eren was bedridden for now they probably weren’t in a hurry either. Eren couldn’t really run away or do much to anyone like this. Thankfully they seemed to realize and left him alone.

There was always a press conference after a major event involving the Protectorate. What happened yesterday definitely warranted one. The public had questions. Armin instead informed Eren that it was a type of window dressing, something that didn’t give all that much detail anyway but soothed the city, made things feel alright again.

“It’s surreal to think you’ve been in their presence,” Armin marveled as Eren looked at the TV display with a sour expression. 

Orbit and Keith Shadis were giving a watered down statement of the timeline of the event that occured. By media it had been dubbed the Battle at the Docks. The name would probably pop up in the inevitable Wikipedia site about it. Parahuman fanatics would probably try to piece together a detailed timeline themselves and be perplexed by the information to be found, or rather the lack of a puzzle piece to get the whole picture to go together. 

Shadis had kept his promise after all.

“You were right, they don’t mention you at all.” Armin continued, with a frown on his face.

Eren tried to feel indifferent about it. He really did. Yet somewhere in his being, that ugly creature was creeping up to the surface again to spew its indignation. It was frustrating, getting to see the result of your hard fought battle and getting no thank you. A better person than Eren would be grateful that he was able to save people. Eren wasn’t there yet. 9 year old Eren had wanted to be like these people, flying around and being the hero and getting all the praise. This was heartbreaking for both all the wrong and all the right reasons. This was not the acceptance he sought, this was disregardment by intention. 

It hit too close to home to be comfortable.

Eren rubbed his suddenly pressured chest while he laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Well, he said he wouldn’t,” Eren said with a shrug. He ignored the hurting lump in his throat, swallowing a few times.

“Still, it’s unfair,” Armin said with a sad look.

Eren shifted his eyes to gaze at the rain pelting the window. “Mm. My whole life’s been unfair, Armin. I cannot let it get to me now.”

Eren knew the PRT. He knew how they operated with regards to him, this didn’t really come as a surprise in the overarching picture. The Protectorate was under the thumb of the PRT also, he should not have expected anything more of them either. Honestly, Eren didn’t know what he wanted differently either. They couldn’t use his name. Eren didn’t have a cape name. Maybe it was the principle of it, lack of acknowledgement. 

It was self-indulgent, but Eren wanted to be seen, wanted to be loved. He knew that it wasn’t the right way of achieving that, turning to the public, but maybe this was another one of those marks Nanaba had been talking about from his youth. Eren wanted to get out from underneath the boot that was squashing him in a spectacular fashion.

“Maybe I wasn’t meant to have powers,” Eren mumbled to no one.

“Nonsense,” Armin immediately replied from the foot of the bed. “The powers haven’t changed you, it changed those around you. Personally, I think you have the potential to blossom despite the nature of your power.”

The capes on TV started answering questions from journalists. They were what Eren would call cardboard-answers, pre-ingrained into the parahumans like that of politicians. They said a lot without actually saying a whole lot. 

“Others would argue that my powers have the potential to turn me rotten if I gained free reign.” Eren sighed while crossing his arms. It was an uncomfortable topic, one he was a bit frightened of himself.

“Every parahuman has the potential to do good or bad with their powers, Eren. Many factors play a role in that. How they grew up, their current situation. Genetics. But very important and relevant in my mind is a support system. If you surround yourself with good and stable people, I think they will help keep you on the narrow path, if that is your fear. I’ll tell you if I think you started to do weird things.”

Eren hummed, turning his head to observe the owl-masked hero on his television screen. “Promise?”

“Always.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Eren hadn’t told anyone, but that first night back he’d experienced trouble sleeping. He’d woken in the night drenched in sweat, fleeting dream memories of riot gear and supernaturally launching humans, of glowing orbs and the overwhelming feeling of terror.

Eren acted like everything was fine, but when he was about to go to sleep the second night after his heroics he had the feeling of dread that told him that this night would be a repeat of last night.

It reminded Eren of his first weeks at the Jaeger household. He didn’t sleep. He ate less than he probably should. Only after building trust with his new potential parents did he start to settle down, feeling safe between the two adults while starting to sleep in the open space between them.

Eren was only about half a year from adulthood now, he had to find other ways to cope. He recognized that he had probably hit a few of his weak points the day before yesterday, triggering some latent anxiety that he had a feeling was going to be hard to get rid off.

He should be going to bed now. Eren usually stayed up far past this point but rest after a concussion was absolutely crucial. Which only made him more anxious when he couldn’t. 

The milk glass in his hand was cool and somehow soothing. This was something that had helped him sleep years before and it didn’t hurt to try. He exhaled deeply and then brought the rim of the glass to his mouth in order to down the last of the white liquid. Eren put the glass down in the sink gently. His parents were asleep just across the ground floor and he didn’t want to wake them unnecessarily. A small smile played on his lips at the thought of the hug his mom had wrapped him into some hours earlier.

It gave Eren the courage to at least try to find some rest. He walked slowly through the hallway and sneaked up the stairs, making sure to hold on to the rail with his dizzied brain. He knew to avoid the fifth step, it would groan and creak if you stepped on it. Dad had talked about fixing it for months, but he’d just never gotten around to it. Eren didn’t mind, and neither did mom it seemed. To Eren, it was special that he’d lived in the house for so long that he knew about the little crevices and precious flaws that made their house, well, theirs. He treasured those things, probably more than any other. He didn’t have the heart to nag his dad about fixing it.

The brown haired boy scratched at his clothed belly as he made his way through the upstairs corridor, a hand tracing the wall, to enter his room at the end. He promptly faced the door and closed it silently, then turned around, only to notice that everything wasn’t how it was supposed to be in the room. The still white figure by the window, for example. 

Eren jumped about thirty feet into the air. “Holy mother of…” Before his concussed brain could process what was happening, he bumped into his nightstand and yanked the table lamp up as defense.

“Relax, kid.”

Orbit was sitting comfortably on the broad window sill where Eren usually sat to read, the window slightly ajar behind him, allowing for fresh air to enter the room but keeping the light drizzle to the outside. He was wearing his white getup this time, without blood, allowing Eren to see it in its proper glory.

But wait, Orbit was here, as in Eren’s room, that meaning Eren Jaeger. The lamp was unceremoniously set down on the nightstand before Eren dove on his bed and shielded his face, producing a groan due to the pain that the action caused his head. The action was a reflex, even as he realized the damage was done before he even hit the bedding. The hero, he knew.

“Pretty sure it’s too late for that, E.”   

Orbit obviously knew Eren’s name from the way he said his fake one. How could he know? How had he found out? Fear gripped Eren’s heart as he withdrew from the bed and eyed the hero suspiciously. “How?”

The man in question was fiddling with something in his hands, drawing Eren’s eyes to it. Noticing that he had gained Eren’s attention, Orbit held up the thing, before throwing it to Eren.

The item swished past Eren’s hands and smacked him in the chest and tumbled down to his lap on the bed. Eren grabbed it, immediately recognizing the item as his own wallet. He opened it to find his ID at first glance, features dropping. A miserable ‘no…’ made it out of his lips and out into the air between them.

“When out in hidden identity, don’t drop something that can be traced back to you,” Orbit chided with a slightly raised voice, shaking his head and muttering, “Idiot.”

“Who else knows?” Eren said with a shaky voice, closing his wallet and laying it down on the bed sheet. He had seen enough of it for one evening. How could he have been so stupid? And what made it worse was that Eren hadn’t even realized the wallet had gone missing despite it being almost 2 days since.

Orbit sighed, crossing his arms. “No one else but me. I don’t plan on telling anyone either, so put your mind at ease. I can sense your unease all the way from here.”

“Right,” Eren said, glancing at the Protectorate leader. A Protectorate leader in his room. What a world. Honestly, this may all be a dream. He wasn’t in the best of shapes. He then observed the window closely, anxiety skyrocketing again. “How did you, uh, get in?”

Orbit leaned back, poking at the device at the side of the window. “Do you have these in mind?”

Eren nodded with unease. Those were to make sure he didn’t try to escape without the company of his family or without a guard. His parents had only agreed so that guards wouldn’t be placed in the house at all times. But now with the devices, Eren didn’t exactly fancy the PRT coming here on an emergency basis if they’d been breached. “Only the PRT have access, so…”

Orbit shook his head. “Only the PRT cards have access. As it happens, I am in possession of one of those. It did surprise me though, having to use it here.”

“Mhm,” Eren hummed hesitantly, fiddling his fingers. This encounter was making him uncomfortable. He didn’t know the purpose of it, or Orbit’s intentions. Besides, this was two encounters in just two days. Bringing the Protectorate’s attention on him didn’t seem like a good plan at the moment.

“Ah, I’m not here to question you. I am here to… apologize.” The hero adjusted his position on the window sill. In contrast to Eren, Orbit seemed to be as calm and relaxed as ever.

“That… I’m sorry. That doesn’t make sense,” Eren said while scratching at his bandaged head, expression growing perplexed. He’d actually expected threats, more like. An apology? Never.

“You’re seventeen.” It was sort of a question, sort of a statement.

“Yes…?” Eren responded, sitting up on the side of the bed, facing the white-clad hero.

“That means you’re a minor. The Wards were withheld from the situation at the docks because of the uncertainty of the dangers at hand. Yet, the PRT brings you out, with no experience.” The owl mask tilted, as if curious. “It doesn’t sit right with me.”

Eren’s mouth tightened, the topic at hand breaching precarious territories. “The PRT and I have a… complex relationship. Frankly, I don’t think they care that they had to send me out,” Eren said carefully while licking his lips. Truth, without divulging too much information at this time. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. He didn’t like to be cornered like this without a cheat-sheet at hand. 

“Curious indeed. The paper file they have on you is suspiciously empty as well. A name. A picture. An address, and a birth date. Emptier than some of the files of obscure gang capes, I’ll tell you. I do wonder why.” Orbit folded his hands and set them on his lap as he crossed his legs. He truly sounded perplexed.

If Eren had to guess, his information was too risky to have in a public file of the organization.

They did not trust each other. Eren could feel it in the air. They were brothers in arms for a few hours, but now they were back to being strangers. Orbit was curious about him, but Eren could not discern if it were for precautionary reasons, like if the hero would have to consider him a danger for the future, or if he smelled something foul in the air and went to investigate.

Eren would have to be careful; if it was the first, he couldn’t give away too much information. If it were the latter, well, there wasn’t much Orbit could do anyway. 

Eren shrugged, not yet decided, and looked to the ground to think.

“In the end, it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have been there, and for that I apologize. If I had known I would have fought the decision, perhaps done things differently.”

Eren’s head snapped up with that. “Hey, it was still my decision. Don’t take that away from me.” He hated the worry in his voice.

Orbit held up a hand with that, to stop Eren’s outburst. “I’m not. What you did was brave, but frankly, you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. My job is to protect the civilians of this city, the innocent, and those in need. I cannot say I know what your role in society is, but letting you into that fight, I did the opposite. I don’t like to have that on my conscience.”

“I managed,” Eren argued. This had somehow turned from a tug-of-intentions war to Eren trying to convince himself, and Orbit, that he could do this. 

“Barely. You have plasters all over your body, bruises, and I do remember that concussion. Did your guardians know of your whereabouts?”

Eren clenched his jaw. Answer enough.

Orbit’s mask turned toward the roof for a moment. “Then that’s even worse,” he sighed. 

Eren clenched his fist. He felt like he was being treated like a child. By one of this city’s protectors, no less. An intense feeling reared its ugly head. “Stop,” Eren said, for a second glad that Orbit couldn’t be commanded so that he could speak his mind. “I’m proud of what I did. Yes, I was scared shitless, I made mistakes, but I helped out. I feel good about it. I did it with no credit, whatsoever. People fear me, fear my power, but I used it for good that day. Don’t try to belittle me or my involvement. I did what I could for this city, no one will ever know, no one will care, but please, don’t take this decision away from me. I did good.”  

Eren rose with that last part, but too quickly. He wobbled before having to sit down again and grab at his head.

Orbit regarded him for a moment, the silence hanging heavy in the air.

“You remind me of someone…” Orbit then sighed, lost in thought and sounding drained of energy. Then the hero stood up. “Very well. You did do good. Even if no one will ever know of your involvement, I will. My appreciation will have to do in place of the city’s.”

Eren nodded with a slight grimace due to the pain. 

“Your circumstances seem to be a whole lot of contradictions, kid. I don’t know what to make of it. If I may ask, how old were you when you triggered?” Orbit looked to a shelf on the left wall. It was filled with trinkets and photos Eren had amassed during the past seven years. The devices on the windows and the innocence of those shelves were a steep contrast to each other, so much so that even the older cape seemed to notice.

Eren decided that as long as he didn’t have to provide details, the answer couldn’t hurt him. “I was ten,” he revealed.

The barn owl face snapped from the shelf and in his direction. “That’s young,” Orbit commented. 

“Mhm.”

“And you’ve been in Mitras this whole time?”

Now it was getting too close to an interrogation in Eren’s mind. He kept quiet, looking around the room instead, trying to picture what it was like to an outsider. What did it say about him?

“Hm. Maybe that was enough for one night,” Orbit said, looking out the window into the autumn rain. “But I do not know if we’ll see each other again. Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know what the PRT have to do with you, but they are undoubtedly in control here. If I do say so myself, they seem cautious around you. Finding out the how, why and when when it comes to them and you seem a bit of a challenge as well. You don’t seem to like each other very much. I’m I hitting a few points of truth in saying that?”

Eren tightened his lips again and hummed. He wouldn’t disagree.

“I see that as a sign that I’ll have to figure the rest out myself. Maybe it is for the best if I make my departure, then.” Orbit took a few small steps toward Eren, but kept a respectful distance. “You do know what to do after a concussion?”

“Basically rest myself in shape,” Eren responded, still mulling over the last part of the previous topic and what that meant. It seemed that he had brought attention upon himself anyway. But regarding the topic of concussions, Armin had bonked the information into his head so many times now that he could answer the question in his sleep.

“That’s one of the things, yes. But also, refrain from too much screen time to let you brain rest. Drink plenty of water to avoid dehydration, even if you have to force yourself. Try not to move your head too much. Got all that?” Orbit returned to the window to put one boot up on the window sill. 

“Yes, doctor,” Eren said sarcastically. He watched as the Protectorate leader was making himself ready for his exit. Eren didn’t feel like their conversation was quite done, suddenly. What was Orbit’s deal with him? What was Eren to make of the cape’s interest in the relationship between Eren and the PRT? Their conversation held a lot of nothingness, an acknowledgement of each other’s existence. He was afraid that this really would be the last time they saw each other, while Eren still had so many questions about this mysterious visit. Would Eren get to do heroics ever again? He scrambled for something that would convince himself that this wasn’t a fleeting farce. “Hey, you found out who I am, without my consent even. Aren’t you going to return the favor?”

Orbit replied with a huff and a snort. “We’re not near there yet, believe me.” There was an air of amusement permeating his tone, like he had found Eren’s request particularly chucklesome. Orbit looked over his shoulder at the brown haired boy.  “See you around, kid.” The figure then opened the window and disappeared around the side of the window frame in a way only he could. 

Time would only tell if his last words were a lie or a promise.

Chapter Text

Eren hadn’t bothered bringing an umbrella, which perhaps proved to be a mistake. The rain was making his hair become stuck to his forehead, water dripping down to trail over his eyebrows and down into his eyes, down the corners of his nose and downwards to his chin where they finally released, joining the puddles on the ground. He didn’t have rainwear. The vans on his feet were soaked, as well as the socks housed within.

Eren couldn’t find it in him to care less.

There was something else entirely which held and fostered his worry, like the giant metal gate just across the street. The gate had vines trickling down its metal poles, intended to be welcoming but instead kind of missing the mark, making the entry look overgrown, abandoned.

Eren worried his lip, eyes trailing the stone wall masonry on the sides of the gate. It may just have been a wall, but to Eren it likened a bulwark. Just passing his eyes over the sign Aldrich cemetery made his heart twist itself with anxiety. His feet were rooted to the ground, not moving an inch closer. Thankfully the weather seemed to keep the crowds away, because Eren had been standing like this for at least 15 minutes. If people were here they would definitely have started gawking or staring by now.

The cemetery in front of him had been like a boogeyman for the past seven years. Eren had not stepped in there once, even if he knew the numbers well. Row 14, column 3 to the right. It was an enormous feat to even be this close. He was steeling himself, making himself ready to go in there. He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to.

A shuffling of boots echoed to his left, a sigh and a shaking of an umbrella. Groover was the name of his guard today. One of the newer ones, maybe not completely used to Eren’s tendencies. The younger guard was starting to show his impatience, leaning against the mural behind them aways down the street.

Eren once again turned his attention to what was in front of him. Loosely grasped in his hand was a red rose, hanging down toward the ground without care. He had bought the damn thing on the way here in a panicked, highly questionable decision. He regretted it now. The man who laid buried six feet under ground within those sorry walls did not deserve it. He would not have appreciated it in life. Eren would mean nothing by putting it there. It was a pitiful attempt at following the norms of society, a decision made by Eren feeling uncomfortable by coming empty handed.

The soaked boy slowly lifted the rose so that it was within his line of sight. The scarlet color was oddly reminiscent of that of the blood of his previous father. Eren heaved a deep sigh at the look of it, a burdensome stare of contempt. Eren decided in a split second decision that he hated roses with all of his being. He couldn’t stand having it in close vicinity.

The flawless petals were grabbed with rageful force, violently ripped loose from the base with clenched teeth from Eren. The anger and frustration felt good, a valid direction to point his confusion and anxiety. He threw the fistful of petals down and stepped them into a puddle, before disassembling the rest of the rose’s base by detaching the remaining petals and breaking the stem in two, not caring that the thorns pricked his hands. The few petals which were thrown into the wind sailed away with the breeze before getting stuck to the first available soaked surface.

“Hm. That seems like a waste,” Groover commented from a few meters away, drawing Eren’s smoldering ire.

“Shut up,” Eren signed jerkily with shaking hands, a motion up toward his lips. He did not give the guard the courtesy of even turning toward him, only giving him a glimpse of the obvious sign. In ASL circles, it would have been a highly disrespectful decision. Eren wasn’t even sure if it came across as such at this moment, his guards had to know sign language but more than that was not really required of them.

Eren’s chest rose up and down rhythmically as he once again fixed his gaze on the ominous entry on the other side. 

No. No, he wouldn’t be able to do it. His body was in fight-or-flight mode, and Eren chose flight. He would not do this to himself today. This was the furthest he’d come thus far but he would have to admit defeat. In reality, Eren wasn’t sure what going in there would actually accomplish. Why open up wounds just for that? For some piece of shit who Eren was glad would have an empty and uncared for grave? Or was Eren afraid of the opposite, that the grave would be cared for, and no one gave enough of a shit to ever check in on Eren?

Hell no. 

It would take a miracle for him to try this again. This was a mistake. 

Finally, his feet found themselves again as he turned and started walking down the pavement with a tired PRT guard at his heels, thoughts pouring out of his head just like the rain from the autumn skies.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Days passed by, then a couple of weeks. By the tail end of October, Eren did not suffer any after effects of his concussion. Mundane day-to-day life returned.

Armin and Eren (and Eren’s guard) went to Mitras’ own middle-of-October Oktoberfest, walking the fair and enjoying the lively joy of a city come to life. Eren returned to school and actually passed the mid-term exams. As previously stated, life returned to normal.

So why did Eren feel like something was missing?

You go on a rescue mission once and discover that it feels like a drug. Some events of his life didn’t have the same weight anymore. What was sitting inside and playing tv-games to saving someone's life? They didn’t exist on the same plane of existence. Even with being scared shitless, even while admitting that he made many mistakes, Eren honestly missed the thrill. He liked feeling like he could do good with his power. The boy also had to admit that he felt a tiny amount of spite, that he had thrown the methods of the PRT in their faces. One day, Eren would like to see the PRT admit to fault when it came to handling him.

Moreover, standing elbow to elbow with people like Orbit and Blindspot lended itself to a feeling of power. With people like that, someone would always have your back. One didn’t need to feel fear, something that spoke to Eren.

That didn’t mean that he trusted them, however. They were as much prone to turn a blind eye as the public were. Eren had harbored a contempt for the Protectorate since he’d been caged and indirectly barred from joining. He knew it was jealousy. He knew that the grounds he based his perceptions on were brittle, but he couldn’t admit to wanting to join them now. It would unravel his journey for the past years, his entire protection he had built around himself. He couldn’t think about how he and Blindspot had found a nice camaraderie. He couldn’t think about how nice it was to be taken under Orbit’s wing. 

If something like that were ever to blossom, they would have to come for him. For now, Eren had to go solo.

The moment the young cape had been freed from the constraints of his concussion, he and Armin threw their souls into their project, the one that would serve to get the PRT — at least somewhat — off Eren’s back. The base for it had been long set in place, as far back as Armin had known about Eren’s predicament, in fact. A fact that made their progress speed up significantly. 

It was supposed to come to a head today, as Eren had requested a meeting at the PRT headquarters.

“You cannot waltz in there and demand things,” Armin had said, “you need to state your case, and then propose a solution, the one we talked about. They will never let you free in one sweep. Step one is a de-escalation of sorts.”

Eren had already arranged with Magath so that he would be able to speak freely. The PRT would be notified and prepared.

“You have helped them, shown that you are able to be trusted. Use this as well. They are sharks, Eren, they used you, played with your feelings. So go do the same.”

They seemed to be in a rainy period. Magath walked and tapped on his phone while Eren rested his hands in his pockets and watched the scenery out of the windows of the PRT headquarters. The glass panes were covered with streaks of rainwater, contributing to the sullen air that Eren found himself in. 

Eren had hope, of course, but he did not let himself get far with it. He needed to be realistic. Any baby steps today were good. Hell, a rejection was baby steps as well, because at least he would have put the thought in their heads. The one thing that spoke in the cape’s favor was that he had a bit of leverage now. Maybe they had expected this, because gaining a meeting with Magath and Shadis and god knows who else had seemed surprisingly easy.

“I think it would be best to be honest. Tell them that it can be hard to control your emotions but that you’re working on that with Nanaba. That’ll tell them that you’ve acknowledged your flaws, are aware of them, and actively working on them. Convince them that you need space to grow.”

Eren hadn’t been at the PRT compound much since his brief stay as a ten year old boy. Something told the young cape that they prefered to keep him away from here with so many important people scurrying around, ripe for the mental picking so to say. Sometimes, a curious part of Eren wondered what would happen if he just… did it. What would their response be? Would it be good enough? Then again, the smarter move would probably be to grab hold of one of the parahumans.

This is the kind of thoughts Armin would steer him away from. Eren would have to do it himself this time.

“And lastly, don’t disrespect them. I know your feelings, they are valid, but don’t walk in any traps they try to lay for you.”

They entered a conference room, the sort with a long oval table in the middle with a head seat. Shadis sat on the other side of the table, hands folded menacingly. The officers at the table were probably high up in the hierarchy, and those that stood in the corners of the room were probably for the peace and safety of the room. It was a larger crowd than Eren had anticipated.

Magath sauntered into the room, taking the seat to the left of the director. The seat closest to the door was Eren’s then. He sat down, facing the true monsters in his life. His hands were surprisingly steady. Perhaps it was the anger. There was a moment of silence.

“Squirt, we don’t have all day.” Shadis really wasn’t one for pleasantries, which made Eren wonder how the man could be so good at PR. 

Eren also folded his hands and placed them on the table, mimicking the director. “I have come to negotiate the state of our relationship,” he proclaimed.

A few murmurs bubbled up around the large table, but Shadis did not blink or give in to the ruckus. Instead he raised an eyebrow. “Oh, have you? What in god’s name do you think is negotiable?”

Eren steadied his shoulders. He was running on minimal sleep — as usual these days — but he was ready for this moment. He had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time, and this was the first time he could actually bring more than one solid argument to the table. “You held a court meeting for me when I was ten years old. Then and there, you all decided my fate.” Eren swept his eyes through the room. “I was given no end date. I was given no chance to state a case of my own or to argue against my options. For seven years I’ve lived the way you have dictated me to. I am here to renegotiate the terms of my supervision.”

Shadis’ eyelid twitched while Magath at his side remained indifferent. “If you plan on trying to get me to decommission your supervision, then you are on a fool's errand, boy.”

Eren shook his head. “I’m not blind, I can see why that would be a non-starter. I’m asking you to extend me an inch of trust here. I came to your rescue when you asked me to, I did exactly as asked. During all my years as a parahuman, not once have I created a catastrophe or even close to it. What I’m asking here is to, a few times per week, let me go out without a guard. Let me have a little more free time to myself.”

Shadis crossed his arms, and Eren could immediately read that he didn’t like that. The rest of the room looked uncomfortable as well. “Here’s the thing. The guards serve a multi-purpose. They know where you are at all times and have a direct link to us. They are armed to serve as a protection for the public, from you. They also keep more powerful people off our backs regarding you, and I’m not talking powered individuals. Do you see a pattern here? Thing is, we can never really trust you with that ability you have. We get you to use it as rarely as possible to keep you from relying on it, to keep you operating under the consequences of your actions like every other individual. If we were to let that safety net go, what would keep you from using your command behind our backs huh? Running off to who knows where?”

“I have no reason to put people under my influence. Yes, I accidentally command people sometimes when I’m angry, which happens at school most of the time, but I’m not asking to be guardless at the school. I want to be able to take walks without someone breathing down my neck. I’m working on my problems with Nanaba to better myself. I have family and friends here, I’m not going to run anywhere. Instead I’m asking you then, what makes you believe that I’ll just turn around and set the entire world on fire?” Eren tried to think about what he was letting pass through his mouth. He’d never call himself eloquent, but he was passionate; that had to account for something.

Shadis tilted his head. “That’s the thing, there is no clear pattern, or even a motive. It’s just the nature of the power. You’ve heard of Mitosis?”

Eren nodded. A girl who also was a Master. Popped out copies of herself constantly that had their own sentience. Eventually had to be shipped off to an island which became overpopulated. Even then, eventually a kill order had to be issued to contain the growth and snap it off entirely. There is still a fear that a single clone escaped the massacre, lying in wait, even if it was highly improbable at this point. “I have. It was a tragedy.”

“Mm. Yet necessary for society. It was the nature of the uncontrollable power that awakened in that girl. Her power posed a threat and had to be regulated before it became too big of a problem to handle.”

Eren didn’t agree with the likeness that Shadis was trying to connect to him. “My power is not uncontrollable, however. Even while I technically cannot turn it off, I find ways around it. I use sign language in those situations like I’ve been taught — by you. And like I said, I’m negotiating here. I believe we can agree on something that could satisfy you as well. Moreso, have I ever given you any hint of the level of threat like that of the S-class? The Endbringers? I have no reason to.”

Magath tightened his lips while observing the conversation. This time he pitched into it with his own question. “How would you propose a solution then? We cannot let you just wander about, that would not serve the purpose we are after.”

Eren knew that it would come to this, and Armin and him had planned this to make it fit both actions. While Eren of course would like more out of it, it was nevertheless an option that could potentially suit both parts. “Like I said, a few times a week I would like to be left to my own devices, be it for a stroll downtown or leave for a game night with friends. What I instead propose is that you keep track of me with other technology, maybe an ankle monitor? I have read online that you use that kind with parahumans on probation. It can track me in the city and has a built-in shock-device which can be set off from a distance, am I right?”

There was a beat of silence, various officers at the table making notes.

“That is correct,” Shadis offered stoically.

“Then that is my proposal. It cannot let you know if I’m commanding someone, but you just have to trust me, and the community, on that one. You know yourselves that I cannot command the whole city at once, or even a crowd probably, so there would be people that could report me. With that said, I am sincere in the notion that I don’t want trouble. I just want to live a normal life.”

Eren could still see doubt in most eyes in the room. They didn’t believe him. The lack of knowledge about his own power was a disadvantage, even here. He didn’t have the means to argue about its limitations. There was one other way he could take, that of honor and debt. Time to be a shark of his own, then.

“I saved this city for you,” the young cape began slowly, looking down on the glass table before ascending his gaze to fix it on his adversaries. “When you were down on your knees with your heroes in trouble and hesitantly enlisted me, a pariah, for a last ditch effort before everything went south, I came through for you. You owe me this. In the past, I have asked for nothing. Is this how it’ll be when I’m 80 years old? You’ll have a circulation of guards to wipe my ass? Is this a constant prison or a path toward rehabilitation? I’ll never show betterment or reason for you to stop worrying about me if you don’t give me the chance to grow. You owe this to me. You cannot expect me to give, and then get nothing in return. This is not how this works.”

The murmurs erupted again before Shadis stepped in. “Enough!”

The room quieted at once.

Shadis heaved a sigh. “Leave us for a second to consider.”

Eren had said what he could to convince them, his frustration was even beginning to make itself known. He tried to hide it really well, but he was seething. They were trying to use nothing-arguments against him, using the unknown or disprovable assumptions. He joined a couple of guards who stepped forward to escort him out. 

The waiting felt like an eternity. The guards shuffled on their feet while Eren simply stood there unmoving, just twiddling his thumbs until his ire was dying down by time alone, giving way to nervousness. Time ticked. They must be taking their time, Eren thought, as the clock passed the 20-minute mark. He wished he’d brought a chair or something. The silence was bordering on awkwardness with the surrounding guards, and Eren scratched at his temple. He didn’t dare look at his phone in case Armin had sent a message. He wouldn’t know how to answer, because frankly, Eren had no idea of how he was doing.

If the PRT was an evil organization, they would have no inclination to change his terms. In fact, Eren wasn’t sure he was giving them much more reason now either, besides guilt, justice or goodness. But the PRT wasn’t supposed to be evil. They had to consider parahuman matters. Eren couldn’t control the power he’d been given. He could however control its usage. It was human to slip, so Eren told himself. Outside of school, he’d been spotless. That had to account for something, right? The PRT had to throw him a bone, otherwise Eren really would try something stupid in the future. They had to realize this, on some level.

Not that Eren would allow this for eternity anyways, but he could be convinced to play nice for a while longer if things progressed. It was a dangerous game they were playing, waiting to see who would blink first — and Eren had just made a major play to hurry this round up. They would continue playing after this, whatever happened, again and again. Tug and give. Give and tug.

Just as Eren sank deeper into reflection, the door opened. They were finally given a signal to re-enter. 

Walking into that room, Eren tried to get a taste for the atmosphere right away. A couple of the higher ups were furiously scratching away at their papers with their pens, expressions indifferent. Some looked up at Eren at his entrance with curious or thoughtful ones. Others looked mightily uncomfortable, snatching glances at their superior at the head of the table.

Eren sat down.

Shadis was clicking a pen against the table, eyes burrowing into the young parahuman. “We… have come to a decision. We’ll continue our negotiation from this decision.”

Eren mentally fist-bumped himself and a projection of Armin. This could only mean one thing.

“We have decided to move forward with your proposal of the ankle tracker as a substitute. However, we require certain failsafes. For starters, this would be two days a week.”

“Four,” Eren interjected. Two was simply too few.

“Three,” Shadis countered, with an air finality.

Eren sat back in his chair, submitting.

A sigh escaped the director, like this was giving him the headache of a lifetime. “Three days a week, with an option of modification after circumstances. At school, you are to have guards still, as this seems to be a weak point of yours.”

Eren simply nodded. He had expected this, after all.

“The ankle tracker will feed us your location at all times, but we do agree on not shadowing you on your given days. However, we do want you to check in with us during these sessions to make sure that nothing shady is going on. This will especially be true during times you are in crowded places.”

That would be annoying, but Eren had to give to take, after all. “That could be agreeable.”

Shadis continued. “If anything at all suspicious is thought to be occurring, we will not hesitate with the shocker or to send a squad after you. Any offenses after this will be evaluated, with the option of lessening your newfound privileges or revoking them completely, depending on severity. Is this understood?”

Eren didn’t have much choice. “I understand.”

“Then I think we’re done here. Further information will be sent home to you by mail to be reviewed by you and your parents. We will contact them independently. Like usual, you can contact Magath for questions, as he will continue to be your head supervisory officer. A form will be sent to you for a request of days, and we’ll continue this progress moving forward.” The director leant his head sideways against the palm of his hand, radiating exhaustion. “Now scramble.”

Eren couldn’t contain his excitement on the way out of the room or out of the building, a grin making its home on his face. He’d done it. Now, he and Armin could really move forward with plans of theirs. It wasn’t much, but that day Eren walked out of the PRT building at least a few percent more free than he was before.

Chapter Text

The whole of Mitras stretched out underneath his soles.

Alright, maybe a slight overstatement, but Eren had dreamed of this. He swung his legs back and forth, leaning back on his palms.

The young cape had in fact sneaked up on the rooftop of one of the tall buildings of downtown Mitras. It was a rundown building, the kind that probably was on the last legs of its lifetime, soon to be replaced by a more modern counterpart. As far as Eren knew though, no such announcement had been made. He’d had this building in the back of his mind for a while, eyed it a couple times when out and about. It was the type which would have minimal surveillance, a prime spot to hang out on. 

The rooftop was not too bad itself. A bit overgrown with moss and persistent plants, a few pieces of furniture in one corner but too worn down by nature to be used all too often, Eren mused. Getting here was a bit of a pickle though. The ground floor was locked, which it should be, so Eren had to climb the metal railing on the side of the building until he could get to the second floor, then he could move into the complex through that unlocked side door and move up the many, many stairs to the rooftop. He just had to look like he knew what he was doing and like he belonged in the building. Piece of cake, after that.

The building was far from the tallest around, but it also wasn’t dwarfed by the structures around it, giving it a nice semi-open view of the city around him without being too boxed in while also shielding him.

Regular people would call this a safety hazard. Parts of the railing on the edges of the rooftop had broken off or were currently coming off, leaving the bystander bare to the whims of the winds lest they be careful. Eren rather liked it, it meant he could sit like this on the edge and swing his legs into the air to his heart’s content. He wasn’t afraid to fall, nor was he scared of the height. It was a sense of freedom in and of itself, complementing the joy Eren felt over his own circumstance. He flicked a glance at his right ankle, where the monitor rested semi-comfortably. A small price for freedom. It was long ago when he’d been able to go out and just… be alone with his thoughts. It was marvelous.

Eren also had quite the view of the Protectorate building like this. It towered over the city like a giant mushroom, but a very stylish mushroom, if Eren said so himself, begrudgingly. There had to be Tinkers involved, simply had to be. Eren knew that those sub-specializations including macrostructures existed, even open for commissions from organizations like Protectorate divisions. This building was a beast made out of metal and glass. Smaller at the bottom, bigger as it grew. Wires connected the top of the Protectorate tower to the buildings surrounding it. Eren had stumbled upon a video that showed the Wards use the wires as a transport mechanism, zipping out into the city on them. Eren had to assume that the adults at the Protectorate did the same.

It must be fun. The tourists must’ve been absolutely eating it up too, imagine seeing Protectorate parahumans swing by on the way to patrol or on missions? Priceless. Young Eren would have gone there, if he’d been allowed. You know, before everything happened. The adolescent turned his sour expression towards the sunset. It brought him pain, thinking about this. He hated it. He hated how… ‘less’ it made him feel. Like he wasn’t good enough. 

God, he was tired. He’d had good periods as of late, but with everything with the PRT, the Protectorate, the graveyard and the constant anxiety that followed him, the sleepless nights always came back even after a short break. It was late now, in fact, but Eren had told his parents he’d be out and test his own wings. They’d understood. They’d also told him to be careful, of course, but they’d simply nodded when Eren said he’d needed time alone tonight. His first free night. It was a good use of a sleepless night.

Eren jumped when a thud sounded on the rooftop, making him promptly turn around, musings broken. His guarded expression quickly morphed into one of surprise, frown making itself more prominent. “Uh, you know, are we always going to start our encounters with you scaring me shitless? I can see a pattern forming here.”

Orbit was walking leisurely toward him. He was clad in his white costume, illuminated by the warm glow of the evening sunset. Eren was surprised to see the parahuman here; how had he found him? Actually, at that thought, Eren’s expression grew into one of puzzlement.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Orbit said gracefully, foregoing a greeting. He stopped a little bit behind Eren, making the young one have to look up. The white-clad leader turned his masked face toward the edge of the building. “Not planning on jumping, were you?”

Eren’s mind processed the question for a moment before he realized what the implication was, and then spluttered at the unexpectedness of it. “Pf— No! What gave you that suggestion?” Eren replied loudly while turning his torso even more in Orbit’s direction. His response echoed between the nearby buildings, making Eren flinch infinitesimally.

The Protectorate parahuman tilted his head. “We don’t only answer calls about criminals. I’ve had to pull my fair share of teenagers off buildings or rails. This looked… well.” He gestured toward Eren, who still sat with his legs hanging over the city. 

“Oh. Um, well I do plan on living, fortunately. But what, is that how you found me? You seem to be awfully good at it.” Eren turned around and looked out over Mitras again, a bit unnerved at having a Protectorate hero at his back. He tried to sit as straight as he could.

“Mm. When on patrol, I usually keep an eye open for anything that looks suspicious enough to warrant my attention. Seems like you did. Although, you do have quite the distinguishable mop of hair. I knew it was you before I even landed,” the deep voice behind Eren rumbled.

Eren huffed out a puff of air. “It’s been, what? Nearly a month since you last saw me? Sorry for being doubtful about that,” Eren said quietly. He followed the movement of a flock of birds that maneuvered between the nearby skyscrapers. God, he loved this city.

“Good memory,” Orbit retorted from his position.

Eren only huffed in response. If he’d caught Orbit’s attention, it was certainly not because of his hilariously pitiful attempt at playing hero with the Protectorate, rather he must have made an impression by showing his very noticeable lack of experience. That Orbit even remembered him at all was a personal feat in and of itself. Eren had thought about the hero often enough. The man was the epitome of the person Eren wished to be as a kid. Cool, collected. A hero of the people. Someone everyone looked up to. Instead, Eren himself had landed on the bottom of the barrel while losing the lottery of the capes. Although, where would he have ended up without his powers? In the bottom of a box in a backyard grave? Eren’s heart thudded hard in his chest at the image.

There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds.

Eren leaned forward and peered down the distance to the ground below. “If I were to fall from here, would you be able to catch up and catch me?” Eren asked. The morbid thought had popped up in his head, and he felt the need to ask. Orbit’s powerset was one that interested him, it lended itself to incredible variety.

“Yes,” the parahuman answered matter-of-factly. Orbit didn’t even need to think about it, it seemed like. The winds whistled, ruffling Orbit’s long coat and Eren’s flimsy jacket. There was force with that wind, but nothing that would knock them off balance.

Eren straightened and looked up at the other one with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t fucking do it,” Orbit simply warned in response.

Eren huffed a laugh. Good to know that the hero wasn’t a prude behind the scenes. It made the leader more organic, down to earth in a way. Eren liked it. “Is that the way you speak to those you save?” Eren ribbed. “Maybe another time then. I would like to experience free fall.”

“Then you go to one of the shitty skydiving folks.”

“Well, what would be the fun in that? I like the unorthodox styles.” Eren grinned at the thought. Orbit obviously didn’t agree, as told by the answering sigh.

Orbit finally seemed to realize that Eren was in a talking mood, because the parahuman came forward to lean against the intact railing just to Eren’s left, allowing Eren to easily see him. It invited Eren to continue their chance conversation, taking advantage of the time Orbit was giving him. The young cape honestly hadn’t thought that they would meet face to face again. 

“But hey, you get to fall all the time huh? That must be a constant rush,” Eren admissioned thoughtfully, fantasies running wild. Eren would spend his whole time playing with a power like that. Imagine it. Late to school? Fall down the street. Want a moment to think? Fall to the sky. It would also lend itself to be able to find prime spots to hide from bullies. 

Yet, Eren’s musings caused Orbit to freeze momentarily, before his features relaxed once again. “It’s not my favorite feeling. But it doesn’t matter, falls aren’t a danger to me anymore with my power, it’s simply another means of movement.”

“That’s cool, you know. I wish I had that,” Eren revealed. The way parahumans triggered played a large part in how their power shaped. Eren theorized that he’d gotten his power in a moment of need where he thought the entire world was against him, also afraid of having no way to stop his father from killing him. The result came in a power where he could tell people what to do. In theory, he would never be lonely or afraid of other’s decisions again. Didn’t exactly work out that way, though. Eren wondered what kind of trigger event would have caused Orbit to gain the control of gravity. Shaker-triggers were often environmental, although the multiple classifications made the situation complex.

“Says the guy who could have anything at his fingertip,” Orbit returned, throwing a haphazard flick of his fingers outwards.

Eren pursed his lips. “It doesn’t really work like that in reality,” he mumbled, bringing one of his knees up to his chest. He guessed that it could be taken that way. Had the PRT not gotten wind of him the moment he triggered, his life might have turned out different. But he had to admit — what would become of a 10-year old that never could be told no? That got everything he wanted? In all honesty, he didn’t want the answer. Eren would like to say that he would be honorable, that he wouldn’t abuse the power, but would he really? Could he honestly say with 100 % certainty that that would be the case? He couldn’t, and it scared him.

“Mm. Fair enough,” the leader of the city’s most powerful organization answered, tapping the railing.

Eren tapped his lower lip, it was kinda unbelievable how easy this conversation was going. Here he was, talking to someone that he probably would have taken a beating from Jean rather than meet just a couple of months ago, and that was a tall order. It was the pride and envy who were making themselves known again. Maybe he could make an exception for one of them, and besides, they were only talking. “Did you really think I was going to jump?” Eren asked silently.

The cape at his side shrugged. “You never know. I don’t pretend to know who is and isn’t going through it at the moment. Nevertheless, sitting up here is reckless no matter which way you slice it. It is my duty to protect the people of Mitras,” Orbit’s mask tilted, just a tiny bit, toward Eren, “even from themselves, if that was the case.”

“We’ll, you don’t have to worry,” Eren muttered, “I have quite steady feet. Or bottom, I guess,” he continued with a frown and a subsequent wince.

That actually produced a snort from Orbit, a shake of his head and hood.

Eren examined the mask closely, following the smooth surfaces that collectively made up the barn owl face. The crude circles of the eyes with the black lenses in the middle, the protruding shapes that made up the short and small beak in the middle of the face. “You know, you should put some moving eyes on that or something, it’s impossible to know what your expression is. You know the old hero Baltica from Philadelphia? Like that. Ah, I don’t even know if she’s still with Philadelphia, but you know what I mean. I think it would… complement your look,” Eren said with a squint and all his fingers pointing at the thing in question, moving in circles. 

Orbit brought his finger up and tapped the mask thoughtfully, producing a dull sound. The mask sounded like it was thicker than it looked. “You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. The purpose of this was to make it as blank as possible to confuse my opponents. Kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?” Orbit looked out over the sunset.

“I mean, you could technically make it have an on and off switch. I don’t know, it would be cool at least. I mean, you lot talk a lot to the public right? Charity work, press releases. I just think it would have its uses.” And it would benefit Eren too, but he didn’t say that.

“Hmph. I’ll talk to the commission creator and an armorer, see what they have to say. I make no promises, and if I eventually decide that it would be worth it, you probably wouldn’t see it for quite a while. That shit is expensive and takes time.” Orbit said the words out into the crisp air.

Eren made a happy noise in the back of his throat, to his embarrassment. He then brought a hand through his hair to play it off.

“My turn to ask a question. What is that?” Orbit then asked, making a gesture toward Eren’s ankle monitor, peeking out from his pant leg.

Eren eyed the thing, raising his leg into the air. “You’re from the Protectorate, I’m sure you know what that is.”

“You’re on probation?”

“Nope,” Eren replied, popping the ‘p’. He began swinging his legs again. They wouldn’t understand. Only Armin understood his hardships, and even he hadn’t been there during the duration of Eren’s phantom sentence. Besides, this was a new thing. A good thing. Even then, it could be mistaken for something bad by others, but Eren was innocent. He wouldn’t sit here and spew his life story to this hero, the other hadn’t earned it, but he could be damn sure to make it known that he was innocent. He didn’t need the Protectorate on his back too.

“Have you done something bad then? That thing is PRT issued. It isn’t something you just wander around with.” 

Eren didn’t need to see an expression on Orbit’s face to know that he was perplexed. The confusion infused every word out of his mouth. Eren turned his head away, breathing calmly. It’s okay, he thought, the guy doesn’t know. It isn’t his fault for his ignorance. The indignation was willed away by this method. Eren’s hackles were always raised when this topic was brought up, and certainly by the judgment he could hear there.

“No, in fact I haven’t done anything. I’ve done nothing to earn this, at all. This is just the way things are, how things have to be. Maybe you could put two and two together and realize just what kind of organization you’re really working with here. Besides, it’s personal.” The bite in his words were unintentional, but nevertheless true of his feelings. He just wanted someone with power to get it, outside of his influence. Just understand, damnit.

Orbit took a single step forward, coming closer to both the railing and Eren. “What do you mean by that?”

Eren wanted so badly to just spew all the shit he’d been through right at that moment, but there was a tiny stop signal in his head who reeled him back. What would he do if Orbit actually agreed with the PRT? He would have his hope actually crushed. No, the hero would have to come to the conclusion himself, away from Eren. Eren couldn’t spell it out for him and then have those words thrown back in his face. He wouldn’t be able to take it.

Armin had also always said that Eren shouldn’t give them information that could bite him in the ass at a later date, and this was definitely in the ass-biting territory. Eren and Orbit were deeply locked in the passing acquaintances-zone. Eren didn’t actually know where he had the guy on any given day, and on his side seemed like too big of a thing to ask. Yes. Orbit did seem like a guy who would offer someone up for the greater good of the public, didn’t he?

Eren's internal panic clock was ringing. “Eh, just forget about it. Just— just keep it in the back of your mind, alright? There’s several perspectives to any given situation. Many fucked up things have happened out of my control to land me here.”

Orbit kept looking at Eren, and Eren bit his lip and faced forward again. He needed to change the subject, and fast.

“How did the rest of the mission go? I meant to ask the last time you saw me, but my head obviously wasn’t really with me.” It was such a blatant red herring that it was ridiculous.

Orbit was silent for a moment but then relinquished, probably consciously giving Eren a break. “The damage had been done, but we succeeded without much ado after you left. Our problem now is that some dangerous Tinker tech disappeared during the fight.”

“Wait, during?” Eren questioned, looking up at Orbit, wondering if he’d heard right.

“Mm. The capes inside the vault have no recollection of it, so we’re theorizing Stranger or Thinker. Still, there’s no sign of it anywhere, so we’re still suffering from the effects of the event.” Orbit sounded ticked at this. 

“That honestly sucks,” Eren lamented, facing Mitras again. However, the idyllic atmosphere was disrupted by something else this time, like a buzzing murmur that definitely hadn’t been there before. It came from down below and Eren was urged to lean forward to peer down on the streets below.

There was a gathering below, and to Eren’s chagrin they were pointing up toward the two capes (or, what they thought were one cape) and talking amongst each other, drawn by the view of one Protectorate leader out in the wild. Some of them were in the process of bringing out their phones.

“Oh, shit!” Eren proclaimed, hastily pulling up his hoodie as a shield and turning his entire body toward Orbit, shoes even brought up on the roof again, to be safe from the onlookers. He could not be seen with a hero on Twitter, Instagram, Reddit or Tumblr or whatever the hell else, it would be an invitation to a meeting with the PRT, even if they knew Orbit was immune to him.

Orbit also peered over the edge of the rooftop with a huff. “Yep, I think that is the sign for me to be on my way.” As he said that, he grabbed the fabric of Eren’s hoodie at the back and dragged him away from the edge a few small decimeters, probably a bit anxious now that Eren wasn’t in a stable position anymore. The hero released him quickly enough.

“Ah, I should probably go as well. Have some things to do downtown before I scramble home.” Eren said as he stood up and dusted off his clothes, wary of the edge of the roof and being out of the line of sight from those below. Orbit started walking further away from the edge in the direction of the other side of the roof, and Eren hesitantly followed.

“This late?” Orbit questioned, glancing toward the setting sun, producing a red glow now.

“Well, it’s Halloween in a couple of days! Everything is open this late at this time in Mitras. Regardless, the tourist crowds have gone to bed, so it’s only the dedicated crowds left. It’s the most fun time to go shopping.” Eren took a couple of quick steps to catch up.

Orbit shrugged. “If you say so,” he answered slowly.

Eren looked toward the soggy rooftop door. “Actually, you don’t think that I could get a ride down from here? The crowd down below…” Eren proposed apologetically, earning a side eye from the hero beside him.

The leader of the Protectorate produced a sigh, but immediately catched a hold of Eren’s lower arm as the hero took off.

Eren produced a short yelp but was quick to follow this time. Their steps echoed across the concrete rooftop as they neared the edge of the roof.

“Wait, are we going to—”

Orbit took a jump off the edge, bringing Eren with him.

They didn’t plunge down to their deaths though, the gravity lessened with an infusion and they went flying up in the air in the direction of the next rooftop over. Eren howled in both thrill and absolute fright all the way up and down, as they flew in a perfect arc. Small infusions here and there guided their progress and descent, Eren felt warmth pulse through him with every shift.

They landed smoothly and followed the momentum to the edge of this lower rooftop. 

“Hah, that never gets old!” Eren grinned as they came to a stop.

Orbit observed him, and with that blankness of the mask the young cape didn’t even know if it was stoic or with a smile or something else. “Well then. I have a few hours left of my patrol, and I have to get back to my team. I’ll give you some juice to make your way down this wall, but be quick about it.”

“Sounds good,” Eren said as he climbed over the railing of this more proper rooftop under Orbit’s observation, holding on to the railing with steady hands.

“Ready?” The parahuman grabbed his wrist gently.

“Yep!” Eren proclaimed, looking down.

Warmth filled him from his wrist, and he felt his weight fall against the railing instead of toward the ground. Eren’s hands released their grip from the metal beam.

“Be safe, kid. Be careful on the rooftops from here on out, preferably don’t spend your pastime on them.” The hero stood up, looking down on Eren.

“Can’t promise that,” Eren said with a smirk. “But hey, last question, have I earned the right to know who you are yet? You got to find me again.”

Orbit huffed with a quick exhale, before taking off toward the next rooftop.

Eren followed the white figure with his eyes and a small laugh. “Goodbye!” he bellowed with a wave after the hero.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Do you have something in mind for the mask?” Armin questioned, plucking at the fabrics and material laid out on the floor of the blonde’s room.

Eren scratched at his forehead. “You know what, I really haven’t thought that far yet,” he said sheepishly. “But if I’m going to paint some green stripes on the jacket, then maybe something green? Or black to blend in? Green-and-black?” Eren was at a loss.

“Uh-huh. And you bought all of this last night?” Armin brought up the paint bucket to his face and started reading. It contained the green color they were going to use on the jacket.

“Yes…? I was in a good mood, so I took a bit of everything that could inspire us to create something good.” Eren was standing, surveying their options. They had some ready made masks that could be modified to something good, some other material that could be of use, a bit of metal, then there were the leather scraps Eren had admittedly garbage bin hunted outside of the leather workshop in town. They certainly had options.

“Have you even slept anything between then and now?” Armin turned around and stared at him.

“Hey, that’s not the point of today.” Eren absolutely hadn’t. “The point is, unlike many capes I don’t have a good power to base my mask on, really. So unless we want me to wear a skiddly-doo boring-ass mask, we have to come up with something.”

“I do have an idea, actually. But both versions of that one would take time, so you would have a temporary one in its stead. I think, I mean, your power is essentially being the one in control, right?” Armin put down the bucket.

“Yep,” Eren confirmed (not that Armin needed it) and sat down, listening intently. 

“Well, why don’t we make you a crown then? I was thinking something edgy, like making it out of real antlers or up-jutting metal spires or something. How does that sound?” Armin took a paper and pen and started sketching a crude image of what he was meaning.

“That sounds awesome, but you’re right, making a good one will take time.” Eren reached over to take the green paint bucket and looked it over. “Alright, I think we can make a mini-version of your idea in the meantime.”

“Like what?” Armin questioned, pen still scratching away at the paper.

“We take the leather scraps and paint them green, to match the jacket. We cut them into triangles and sew them into the hood like a green crown.” Eren pointed to the collection of lenses in different colors on the floor. “Then I can have a standard motorcycle mask as a mask, plus the goggles that some of them come with. We only have to switch the lenses to green to get it to match. What do you think?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good plan. I’ll think about the long-term mask in the meanwhile. Although, maybe I should be the one to sew the leather. I even think grandpa has an old leather sewing machine somewhere so that it’ll be strongly attached.”

“Mm, that’s a plan then,” Eren said while using a knife to open the green paint bucket. As it popped open, a chemical smell started to creep into the room.

“Uach, that’s strong.” Armin covered his nose. “Mom and dad are going to wonder what on earth we’ve been doing today after all this. Who’s your guard today? Or guards?”

“McIntosh and Groover. McIntosh is in the car out front and Groover’s probably in your hammock out back. I don’t think he’s long for the job honestly, but I picked this night because those two would be on shift. We have time.” Eren smoothed out the jacket and tried to picture how he wanted to do this.

“Good. I’m gonna say that this all has gone pretty well for us so far. Isn’t this suspicious?” Armin tapped his face with his hands and picked up a few pieces of metal.

“Well now you’ve jinxed us, thanks Armin.”

“Hey,” Armin burst, “I was being positive! Our projects have a low success rate as of late, I’m thinking we’re making a breakthrough here. We’ll be celebrating in a few weeks, mark my words.”

Eren eyed the several brushes he could choose from. “Don’t make any celebratory noises until I’ve actually fetched an old lady that freaking purse you keep going on about. You’re about to be my man in the chair, you do realize that right?”

“Mmm, those are words I like to hear!” Armin sang with a giggle. “Really though, I believe in this, Eren. You’re going to do good. Sure, the learning curve will be steep but you, if anyone, knows how to adapt.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that. I’m having no expectations as of yet, I saw the carnage of a parahuman battle, I’m still wondering how I’m going to get within touching range of a powerful parahuman or dangerous person.”

Armin raised his lower lip and raised his eyebrows, trying to be convincing. “Pepper spray.”

Eren burst out in a laugh. “Here comes big bad parahuman Eren, with his pepper spray.” He giggled again. “It’s so stupid it may work.”

Armin grinned like the sunshine come to life.

“Alright alright, I need to do the stripes now. Should we do the V-shapes like we talked about? Two on the front and three on the back?”

“Yeah, I think I like that pattern most. Make the bigger one first and the smaller one after. Actually, we could do one on both sides of the jacket as well, to fill in the black space, but like an upside-down V then. I think that would flow nicely.” Armin gestured toward the jacket as he talked.

“I like how you think,” Eren said while dipping a large brush down into the paint.

He touched the green down to meet with the black fabric, the start of something new.

Chapter Text

“Uh, maybe we didn’t exactly think this through,” Eren said as the signal of the phone went through. He’d had to buy one of those flip phones and a prepaid SIM card. This was effectively his burner phone now, a fact which made his pocket burn every time a pressure reminded him that it was there. He’d taken Shadis’ actions and words to heart. Still, that was not the problem right now.

“What do you mean?” Armin’s voice echoed across the line.

“So I’m standing here, looking like a moron, and wondering how in the hell are we going to know when a crime takes place?” Eren’s legs swung back and forth. He’d chosen the low roof with care, the view overlooking the recognizable plaza in front of him. By his calculations he could be on the ground within seconds with a short jump, even if it would send a jolt up his ankles. 

Most passersby that sent him a second look after his discovery asked him if he was cosplaying a hero they didn’t know of. Eren simply went with it because it was the easiest choice in a myriad of unopened cans of worms.

“Well, we have no connections, yet, so this is how it’s going to be. Are you at Mayor’s Street like I told you to go?”

Eren turned to his left and then right as he scouted the large downtown street. People passed him in masses, talking about everything and nothing pertaining from the weather to funeral expenses. Smells of hotdogs and expensive perfumes sailed up to his perch of choice which he shared with the city’s permanent bird population. With expensive clothes shops, various fast food joints, a bunch of corporate buildings which admittedly sailed into the periphery of the masses, electric clubs and the vibrant greenery, everything one could ask for all rounded up along this strip. No honks or screeches of tires could be heard, this was the place where the crowds dominated. At least the density lessened at this time, just transitioning between day and evening.

The plaza opened up to a large space that connected the west and eastern part of Mayor’s street. It was a place to hang out, park benches strewn about surrounded by greenery and abstract art pieces that only drew the eye the first time they intersected one’s view. It also connected to other streets, making it a highway for those that wanted to change from one street to another. 

Eren eyed the stands that sold candy and jewelry which always drew its fair share of tourists. City leadership always talked about all possible ways to make the downtown area more safe, but project after project always faded into the background until they were out of rememberance entirely. The politicians let their duties fall into the hands of the Protectorate, the vigilantes and the police force. 

“Yeah,” Eren said to the phone at his ear. “I’m here. But it’s hilariously little happening. The plaza is as calm as ever, not even an attempt to vandalize the statue yet.” The metal of the hideous statue of a man who probably once had been important to the city — yet no one even knew the poor fella’s name anymore, Eren included — was free of paint, the flat top of the head (which honestly begged for a colorful accessory) notably empty.

“Well.” The word was drawn out, with the hint of a pause. “Take it as patrol training then. But I read like a hundred reports of parahuman-involved rescues or crime, and a majority of the share involved Mayor’s Street. It’s like a heroing-highway, Eren. And besides, if you stay put in crowded areas, they cannot use the tracker to attach you to something shady.”

Eren stood up, adjusting his hood. A baseball bat hung heavy at his hip. “I mean, sure. But Armin, I feel like the Walmart version of a hero. What am I even doing?” The hero-to-be scanned the crowd at the plaza and darn it, not even the hint of someone just looking at another person in a weird manner. Frankly, the plaza was being emptied by the second, crowds partaking in a joint pilgrimage toward parking spaces and the tram system. It would be like that until the evening crowd came out to play from their daily hideaways, shops giving way to the booming opening of clubs and bars by the odors of booze and the flickering of neon lights. Eren took the lull as a chance to change spots and maybe cross the plaza for a closer look. He drew a few looks on the way down and pulled the hood tighter around his face, feeling to make sure that the mask was still on and covering his lower face. He walked further into the open space, joining the early evening crowd.

“Eh, have a little faith. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is a hero, I think.”

A sound from above brought Eren’s eyes upward, yet finding nothing. It sounded like the long-drawn whining of a teapot, intermingled with a few odd zzt zzt. He frowned, squinted and scanned the skies and nearby rooftops.

“Oh I have faith, I have nothing but it, in fact…” Eren trailed off, as he spotted something odd flying up over a nearby rooftop, in his direction. The shape grew larger. What first looked like a large bird, became the shape of one person, then two. They flew intertwined across the space above the plaza, but their flight appeared uncontrolled, actually descending at a dangerous rate while quaking mid-air. In fact, the two people weren’t exactly helping themselves with how much they were struggling back and forth.   

Eren caught himself staring, motionless. That was until he realized that he was in the immediate trajectory in their quick descent. “Oh shit!”

“Wha—”

Eren ducked and subsequently turned the phone off with the last thing he saw before taking cover being the jets of the jetpack — a freaking jetpack — flickering on the approaching forms. By the air gripping every loose flap or hair on his form, they must have surged right past him, nearly taking his head off or something, and he peeked through his fingers to see them landing in one of the bushes nearby with a rustled crash. A few of his fellow city doves made a quick escape from the area with violent flaps. A few embers littered the signed grass leading up to the place of impact, flickering ominously near the foliage. Eren looked on with wide eyes as one of them licked a few leaves near the ground.

Not only had someone just crashed into the bushes of the freaking downtown plaza, the bush started to catch fire.

People started screaming and shouting, not sure of what was happening, but they weren’t stupid. If it looked parahuman, if it smelled parahuman, it probably was parahuman. That meant one thing, and that was running in the opposite direction, leaving it to the pros. The smattering of steps on the ground like a kilo-heavy rain was a sign that this was exactly what was happening.

Honestly, in accordance with the crowds, Eren barely knew what was happening either. The hands covering his head slowly lifted as he turned and looked at the ruckus the two individuals were making. Not allies, Eren immediately realized. The larger man was trying to take the smaller person with him, the smaller not giving him an inch of space to try it.

“Fucking let go!” the smaller one, a girl, growled in a feral manner, placing a few punches from a bad angle on the torso of her captor.

As the two people emerged from the bushes to escape the rapidly escalating fire, Eren realized that the pair was a masked man and a short girl, perhaps a younger teenager? The man with the flickering jetpack held the girl’s hair in what looked to be an incredibly painful grip and used it to keep the young girl from clawing his eyes out.

“Hell no. Give us the fucking guns!” the masked man hissed, dragging the girl with him, making marks on the grass while giving his jetpack a few smacks, like a hungry man would to a vending machine with a stuck snack in it.

“Just fucking try it, you bastard! Now let go, or you're going to be in a world of pain, I can promise you that!” The girl surged forward with her head and tried to bite the forearm of the man, and he in turn threw the girl toward the ground in order to escape the attack. Seeing as he was still holding her in a secure grasp on the head, he followed the momentum down but did his best to keep his arm from the girl's mouth. The feral spark in the girl’s eyes convinced Eren that she would bite through the man’s skin and muscles, should she get a hold of it.

Eren took a few uncertain steps closer, shifting his gaze between the two. In the distance, a dull rumble echoed. A rhythmic boom boom, boom boom.

“Who sent you?” The man yelled, trying to press the young girl’s head into the ground by her cheek. The rain of the past days made the ground moist, and the soil made a squelching sound as the girl resisted the pressure with bared teeth.

“Fuck off, who the fuck sent you?” the girl returned with a hiss, legs and arms scrambling and trying to find leverage on the ground to no avail. She was confident, Eren could see that, but her eyes also held a deep frustration at the lack of movement on her part, the dawning that she was in a bad spot.

A shimmering caught Eren’s eyes, the girl also had a mask on her, a dark purple one who shined in the light — perhaps metal? Also a parahuman, then.

The man used his other hand to pat at his rear-side waistband for some kind of weapon, and that’s when Eren decided to truly intervene before it all spiraled out of control. In all honesty Eren had no idea who of these two were on the right side of justice, he recognized neither of the two, but Eren felt more sympathetic toward the smaller teenage girl who was on the losing end of the battle simply because of size and because he admired her ferociousness.

Eren dashed forward, careful to not step on a branch or thrown-away plastic, as he approached the pair from behind. The boom booms grew louder and ground-vibrating, which tickled Eren’s inner alarm clocks, but he had to focus on the mission. He took a firm grip on the masked man’s leathery uniform and padded collar lapel, and heaved. The man was heavy, but Eren’s efforts managed to make him stumble backwards and land on his behind, hands scrambling by reflex and releasing the girl.

Eyes landed on him this time and the man shot up with a fist drawn back with the intention of immediate release. However, Eren still had a steady grip on the collar, fingers brushing the parahuman’s neck, and used it to drag the possible parahuman’s head closer to his own, whispering out just a few words between the two of them,  “Out of the blue you’ll get the biggest headache of your life. It feels like thunder itself, incapacitating. Let the girl escape.”

Immediately, the man threw himself on the ground, clutching his head and howling. Eren made a small jump back from the man, his power worked more thoroughly than he anticipated.

The auburn-haired young girl with the purple mask oriented herself on the ground and then rose slowly, eyeing Eren and the now incapacitated guy with a frown. The booming sound was all encompassing now, and as new screams welled up from the crowd at the end of the plaza the girl whipped her head in that direction.

Eren also snapped his head in the direction of the sound, freezing in his motions as a large white creature charged in their direction. It was on all four… feet? And clinging to its back were other folks. It was like straight out of a movie scene, in that it was a terrifying discovery. 

Eren’s breath hitched and his blood pressure felt like it was hitting new levels — there was just no way that he could fight this thing, this… parahuman? Yes, now Eren could see vague humanistic features permeating the creature. It also meant that the creature was way too close. The charge wasn’t all that graceful, the thing must have weighed a lot, as it jumped over hedges and benches, accidentally causing some damage in its wake by not completely getting the force of the jump needed. 

Its face was made up of tiny connected pieces of the white material, making it have that vaguely humanistic shape along with a few admittedly non-humanistic out-jutting spikes. Its body was modified in a way that made it comfortably quadrupedal, its four limbs divided into long parts connected with what looked like ligaments, making it seem like a stocky skeletonic makeup. Eren couldn’t understand how it functioned, watching it run like that. It shouldn’t be possible.

And maybe Eren really would die this time, he looked in the girl’s direction expecting to see his fear reflected, but… nothing. Her chin was held high, but her body remained unmoving  and relaxed in the wake of the charging beast’s path.

The creature slowly put on the brakes, its limbs locking in its movable joints and digging its finger-like stumps on the ends of the limbs into the ground making a straight pattern in the grass as it careened to a stop beside the girl.

A black haired woman in a mask, one of three people on the large back of the creature, stretched a hand forward rapidly. “Spew, hurry! They’re at our heels!”

The girl — Spew? — darted forward and was in the process of clambering up on the beast with the help of its bumpy-textured side and the woman’s hand when she hesitated, turning her head slightly in Eren’s direction, who was simply too stupefied to move. Spew turned around again, whispering something to the older girl atop the white beast helping her up.

The black-haired probably-cape listened and then promptly turned her gaze toward Eren. “Did you help her?” she asked hurriedly, looking back at the way they’d come, now sounding like more trouble was on the way.

“Yes, I guess…?” Eren half stated, half asked, not wanting anything bad to come his way. He was exposed standing there between a yowling man and a weird parahuman creature, not really knowing who to fight, who to run from, which path to move forward. The indecision made his extremities freeze in place without considering input from him. He looked up at the woman, scanning her and then moving on to every other member on top of the beast. What was the motivation of these guys? Was he in danger?

All of the members of the group wore masks and a matching suit. That gave them a big red ‘parahuman’ stamp in Eren’s mind. None of them except the black-haired woman was looking at him, instead preoccupied with pointing to something in the direction they had come from or leaning down to exchange words.

The girl with her attention on Eren looked at the man behind Eren who had grabbed Spew, in the direction backwards again, and then down to Eren. Her eyes seemed to come to a decision with a tightening of her lips. “If you don’t want to get into trouble, get up!”

During their brief exchange, Spew had already taken a seat on the backside of the creature.

Eren worried his lip, but with new commotion erupting across the plaza which sounded threatful if anything, he came to a quick decision. Maybe he’d just hitch a ride to safety, this group hadn’t attacked him yet which honestly was a pretty good sign. He surged forward, reaching for the girl’s outstretched hand. The girl had a black mask in the slight shape of a fox with red highlights.

A brown-haired boy with a technologically-themed gray mask appeared at her side to help drag Eren up by the fabric of his back, all while shouting, “Go go go!”

The beast spurred into action just as Eren landed with his stomach on its back; it clawed into the ground to get enough leverage to launch forward. Eren almost tumbled off the creature right then and there, but the fourth person on the back, another brown-haired girl but with a colorful lime-green mask with sketches of snacks on it, grabbed his forearm and brought his hand to a jutting spike to hold on to. 

“Always hold on when getting on this ride!” she shouted with a grin, the wind stealing a little of her voice.

Eren simply complied with the recommendation and locked his hands together in a death grip around the spike and tried to keep track of what the others were doing.

“Gun!” Spew yelled, making grabby-hands toward the rest of the group, knee locked around a spike of her own.

The brown-haired boy who might have been a few years older than Eren, produced an item that looked suspiciously like a mini-bazooka and held on to a spike as he reached over and handed the weapon to the girl. “I’ve loaded it with my bullets, use them wisely!”

Eren watched as the gun passed him carefully, not letting his eyes off the weapon for even a millisecond. What had he entered upon, exactly?

Spew heaved the gun-bazooka up to rest on her shoulder, taking aim toward… something, he guessed, but didn’t shoot. It seemed like they all waited with bated breath, noise and movement ceasing.

The creature underneath them had steered them into east Mayor’s Street, trying its best to avoid people or to do too much damage, but with the ruckus they caused most people had cleared the street in their path anyway. Buildings swished past Eren’s view and he only saw the colorful groups of blobs pass him which he guessed were people.

The creature produced a low groan amidst the silence and Eren watched the brown-haired cape stroke its back absentmindedly.

A shimmering mass appeared on the surface of the building that they just passed.

“Portal!” the black-haired girl with the fox mask shouted from the front of the parahuman creature, accompanied by a point of her index finger.

Spew immediately swiveled toward it, waiting and adjusting her finger so that it rested on the trigger. The moment a human-shaped form emerged from the portal — a Mover? — she pulled her finger down in an assertive motion. With a popping thwomp, a large bullet was launched from the gun, splitting just before hitting the Mover behind them into some kind of goo, and sticking the parahuman to the wall surface beside the portal, not getting far at all. The gun obviously had Tinker properties.

The group whooped and high-fived around him, all while Eren clung on to the spike for dear life trying to sort out his life choices. “Who the fuck are you guys?” he shouted suddenly.

“We’re the Karanes Allies!” the brown-haired boy shouted in answer with a lingering smile, looking back at Eren.

Karanes. A neighborhood area in the city, and while no Junkyard, it housed many of the more unfortunate souls that hadn’t moved up in the world. The news stories that Armin had read would undoubtedly contain reports from this part of Mitras. It was just how things were. But what were Karanes inhabitants doing here, downtown?

“I’m Spew,” the girl with the gun offered without being prompted, still pointing her goo-bazooka toward the path they left behind.

This triggered a chain of introductions. The euphoria of a brief victory still permeated the air, and this must have been why they felt comfortable to divulge their cape names. That, or ego. Cape reputation was a thing of pride, after all.

“I’m Blockaid,” the brown-boy said afterwards, then pointed towards the older brown-haired girl. “That’s Garnish.” 

Garnish waved. It was the girl who’d helped him to a spike with the colorful mask. Food-enthusiast, perhaps? That was the only explanation Eren had for her theme.

Blockaid then pointed to the black-haired girl with the fox-mask, who held an aura of being the leader of this group. “That’s Kami,” he then patted the hard white material underneath them. “And this one is Marrow.”

The parahuman underneath them heaved a groan-like huff.

Eren felt the material they sat on, it was matt and coarse; rough. Eren frowned, risping at the material with a nail. “Is… Is this bone?”

“You would be right in that. Don’t want to collide with this guy,” Blockaid said, patting the material once again. 

A Changer, then. At least it fit the description. Bone couldn’t come from nowhere.

“And who are you then?” Blockaid continued, throwing a few fingers in Eren’s direction.

Oh. Eren actually hadn’t thought of a name yet. For some reason it hadn’t occurred to him. His objection had been to get out, possibly stop a small-time crime, then go home and brainstorm and report to Armin. God, he didn’t have a name. “I, uh… It’s undecided.”

Blockaid simply nodded in response, shifting to survey their surroundings.

“Cameras upcoming!” Kami shouted from the front, each hand resting on Marrow’s neck spikes.

The information made Blockaid change his focus, turning to his suit and sliding out a device from a strap, a cross of a pad and a phone by the looks of it. The cape started tapping away, focus wholly contained to the tech doing gods know what.

“Deactivated!” Blockaid suddenly shouted, slipping the pad down to its previous position.

“Uh, guys…?” Garnish butted in, tapping the shoulders of those nearby, who happened to be Blockaid and Eren.

A persistent hum made itself known then, when it was pointed out to him.

“It’s some kind of hoverboard?” Spew shouted, changing her aim.

Eren would agree with that assessment. Appearing behind them, giving chase, was a parahuman on a flying board, or effectively, a hovering board. Eren squinted, shielding his eyes. The person was too far away for him to really discern any details.

“I’m so fucking tired of Tinker tech,” Kami muttered behind them from the front. “Everyone’s pulling one out of their asses these days.”

“Who are these guys?” Eren asked while hugging his spike as Marrow took a small jump over something indiscernible.

It was Kami who answered, the others occupied. “We don’t know, and that’s a big issue. We were doing a small mission when everything went to hell. Instead of our target, there were these guys.”

“What do we do?” Garnish asked, keeping her eyes on the flyer like the rest of them with the exception of Kami and Marrow who were steering the ship.

“Don’t shoot,” Blockaid urged from Eren’s side, nudging Spew on her leg. “There’s no surface to stick him to.” The cape turned away to reach for a sack that was tied to one of the spikes, Eren noticing its presence for the first time.

“What do you thi—”

A loud explosion boomed just to Marrow’s left and Garnish let out a shriek, Marrow quaked in response. Colors flashed as pink and white sparks and embers shot out from the impact, the street around them turning bright like a star for a second. Eren hid his head between his arms, hoping for the best. 

When he wasn’t burned to death, opened his eyes. Smoke from the impact was left behind them, and then everything seemed normal again.

“He’s a Blaster!” Spew yelled, scrambling for the bazooka which was hanging down her shoulder with a simple strap, probably shaken from its position with the jolt Marrow made at the unexpected impact.

“What was that?” Kami barked at the same time Marrow let out a low growl.

“It looked like a firework!” Garnish provided with wide eyes, looking up at the hovering Blaster. “Watch out!”

Eren turned his head quickly and observed the suddenly dangerous parahuman who had been getting closer. The cape had raised his hand and a sparkling crackle was currently forming over it. The crackle didn’t look to be pointing a specific way, making it unpredictable. Fireworks were obviously to prefer over explosives, but even a well placed firework could cause damage. Eren knew, because one of his classmates from middle school had disappeared for a while and returned with severe burn scars weeks later. The pictures from a lecture the fire department had come to present during the girl’s absence was ingrained into his mind.

“Shield your faces!” Eren shouted, hiding his own face in his elbow.

With a high-pitched whistling the next firework was launched, and a loud boom echoed to their right front. At the same time, Eren’s body slid into Blockaid as Marrow burrowed his front limbs into the ground and took a sharp jump to the left with a grunt. Even hiding his face, Eren could notice that the light outside grew brighter from the sparks.

“The hoverboard!” Blockaid yelled. “We need to get it down. I think I have some stuff, but I need to know its source of power!”

Spew turned away from the hovering cape. “Since it’s Tinker-made, I would guess nuclear fusion, new-gen sodium batteries or solar power!”

Eren blinked rapidly. Yeah no, he got nothing of that.

“I think we can scratch nuclear fusion, there is nothing big enough on that thing to allow for that. I would also bet on new-gen batteries or solar.” Blockaid turned his eyes to Eren, scrutinizing. “You don’t happen to have a ranged power?”

“No, rather the opposite,” Eren mumbled, probably just loud enough for the man to hear.

Blockaid nodded to himself. “Alright then. It’s fifty-fifty.” He gave his own head a light slap. “Think… Battery would work whenever, but it would probably need to be charged. Solar power would be unlimited, but the board would have the possibility to give out at night or after days of bad weather. Circumstances…” Blockaid looked up at Spew. “If the tech is stolen, I would lean toward solar. A stolen board without its charger would be useless.”

“Incoming!” Garnish warned.

A whistle made them all take cover again, and an explosion of sparks caused Marrow to skid violently, his riders to tumble to the side, only holding on by the skin of their necks. Smoke came from Marrow’s back leg. Thank god it was made of bone. Eren righted himself with a push from Garnish.

Marrow let out a dull growl, using a surge of power to get up to speed again.

“Go for it! Get me an electrifyer or a circuit breaker!” Spew tied down the bazooka to get her hands free.

Blockaid scrambled for the sac and after a few seconds of looting he produced a smaller gun. He then reached for one of his pockets, bringing out three small blue-striped bullets and loaded them into the gun. Eren observed the whole process with silence, and followed the gun when it was handed over to Spew.

Spew pointed the gun into the sky with straight arms.

Eren felt his stomach roil with anxiety, waiting to see what would come first — a crackling whistle or a pop of the gun?

Blockaid nudged his shoulder, misjudging his anxiety. “She’s a good marksman, you’ll see.”

The pop came. Eren couldn’t see the impact, but the cape on the hoverboard wobbled and the board jerked, before it started descending out of control to the side over the rooftops, disappearing from view. There was no way of knowing what became of that guy, but Eren couldn’t feel himself caring about the man, because the electric thrill rose inside him too.

“Oh my god!” Eren let slip, then threw a hand over his mouth. No harm done though, the cheering broke out again. Garnish gave the younger Spew a playful shove with a whoop and Blockaid let out a silent exhale. Even Kami looked back with a smirk.

“Good job, team!” Kami exclaimed from the front.

A low, long-drawn whine echoed from inside Marrow’s bones.

“Is he hurt?” Eren asked, looking down.

“Not technically,” Blockaid said and clambered toward a front seat on the Changer. “Using his powers is just really painful.” Blockaid plopped down and patted one of the smaller spikes. “Just a few more blocks, brother.”

Marrow swiveled around a car, meaning that they had left the more populated parts of Mayor’s street. Now they met the large city traffic, a whole nother beast by itself. Marrow would have to be careful, or he could crush a vehicle. These guys cared about that, right?

“Was that the last of them?” Eren found himself asking. Could he relax now?

“No idea,” Spew answered, lowering the gun to her side. “There were a lot of them though, and they must’ve been Tinker tech dealers. Wanted our stuff as soon as they saw ‘em.”

“I feel like a broken record, but guys, we really ought to buy ourselves some binoculars or something. I can’t see a thing from here,” Garnish said, Eren watching her squint and making circles with her hands around her eyes. “Looks like backpack-guy is online again, though.”

Eren repositioned himself so that he could look out at the trail they left behind. Yes, it looked like the flying jetpack dude was back and gaining distance. Marrow had slowed down a bit.

Eren turned back to ask Blockaid what the plan was, but things changed rapidly here, something he was quickly learning.

“Ah, wait. He was just taken down by someone? What the hell?” Spew noted, sounding confused.

Eren turned around again, still holding on to the same spike, scanning what was happening in their wake.

The jetpack guy was gone. He could be down on the ground, but frankly the vehicles parting like the Red Sea before the charging group was in the way. What he instead saw was odd, but then made his whole body grow cold. There was someone riding an ostrich through the ocean of cars, but that wasn’t what made his heart beat violently in his chest. No, that would be the white-masked hero jumping between buildings toward them, long jumps gaining on them. Orbit.

“That’s the fucking Protectorate!” Eren yelled accusingly, feeling his skin whitening and hands growing clammy. Oh no. Not like this. “What did you do?!”

“Nothing!” Kami growled.

Beside them, Blockaid urged Marrow on. “Hurry, brother! Find that last bit of strength!”

Eren continued to stare accusingly at Kami, waiting for an explanation, keeping half an eye at his Protectorate acquaintance. His power was more frightening when it was on the opposite side of the fight.

“We were framed,” Kami continued. “We were given the wrong information which led us into a trap someone had planned to put us in!”

“Kami…?” Spew asked slowly, fiddling with the gun like it was taking her all not to aim at the heroes chasing their trail.

Kami slammed a hand down on the spike with an exhale, dropping her head briefly before straightening. “Abandon the mission. We cannot get into an altercation with the Protectorate, we’d get listed.”

Eren only absentmindedly listened to the conversation. He was too busy feeling out his mask, making sure that it was in place and shielding his identity while keeping steady eyes on the visible protectorate capes. Orbit was down on the side of the building, running. He was running with someone else too, having used his power to shift their gravity. Eren inhaled at that. That was how he had worked with Orbit. Seeing someone else get to do it felt… weird. He didn't like it.

“So what do we do?” Blockaid asked. He was looking at his pad now, something Eren had missed.

“We have to make our escape, don’t let them get close.” Kami looked resolute.

“Yeah, something’s flying toward us, guys,” Garnish informed, keeping her eyes trained upward.

Eren looked up. It was like a cross between a robot and a bird. Its feathered wings looked real, but the body was some kind of metal. Eren felt a shiver run down his spine for some reason.

“It’s staying close to the building, and it looks like tech. Shot it,” Blockaid said quickly.

Spew heaved the goo-bazooka up again, doing a quick aim on the rapidly approaching robot-bird. It wasn’t stupid, because it tried to swerve the moment it was aimed on, but Spew was quicker. Using the lessened distance, she shot the bird with goo and stuck it to the opposite bricks of the building.

“Garnish, we’re ready for your assistance. What do you need?” Kami turned around in the front seat.

Everything was going on at once. Eren couldn’t both keep track of Orbit, the other heroes, the actions of the group and the conversation. 

“Preferably a three- or two-way intersection, or somewhere they’ll be confused,” Garnish answered and locked her legs around a spike as she opened a pouch at her belt and brought out a sketchpad and a pen. Eren didn’t think that this was a proper moment to paint, but he digressed.

“You heard that, Marrow?” Kami leant down and shouted toward the large boney face.

A gruff huff was her only answer.

Marrow turned abruptly into the next street, producing a surprised yelp from most of the gang who careened around their respective spikes. Due to his sweaty hands, Eren had to hook an elbow around the spike instead.

“A warning next time, dude!” Spew jawed, stroking her chin which now held a red angry mark.

The Protectorate was tight on their heels, and when Eren once again turned to Garnish, she was sketching furiously, swapping between looking down at the paper and their new street.

“Garnish, get ready!”

The cape hummed, looked her pad over and then raised a hand. 

Eren looked in the direction they were traveling, with the aforementioned intersection. He scanned it curiously, trying to see the special thing about it.

“Take a left,” Kami said to Marrow.

Before the giant beast changed direction, the air shimmered. Then when he did, another copy of the white-boned beast and their group broke away from them and ran in the opposite direction. Eren followed the image with interest.

“What is she doing?” Eren asked Blockaid.

“Her power is illusions. The Protectorate will see us moving in the other direction,” the cape answered, observing the copy with calculating eyes.

“So they cannot see the real us?”

“No, not if they don’t move through the illusion of emptiness, which is an illusion itself. Hopefully they’ll follow the replica.”

“Huh,” Eren said and turned his head to observe the result. 

It seemed like Blockaid spoke the truth. The illusion was good enough that without knowledge, the Protectorate capes fell for their tricks. Orbit and his follower were jumping down the other street, later followed by the ostrich-rider.

Eren refused to breathe a sigh of relief though. He, if anyone, knew that it could all go to hell in a split second. That’s why he was quiet while the others began a silent victory while Marrow galloped out of the downtown area and out of the people’s view. The Changer was beginning to breathe coarsely and was getting more sloppy in his avoidance of town properties.

But as time came and went, even Eren’s shoulders released their tension, his grip on the spike relaxed a smidge and he could smile without forcing it.

On a wide grass plain between neighborhoods, the creature slowed into a trot and then into a stop. The sun was hanging below the horizon now, only sending a few stray beams into the sky. They were shielded well in the darkness.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” Kami turned around fully to say. “Thanks for your assistance before, we take that kind of thing seriously.”

“Yeah, you’re cool,” Spew added, doing a salute.

Eren moved to the side to climb down from Marrow. “Well, I think we’re even then. I think I would’ve found myself in a world of shit if you didn’t take me with you.”

Blockaid held onto his forearm on his way down so that he wouldn't fall. “Alright, I’ll be the one to say it. If you ever find yourself in Karanes, we usually hang out around the People’s Park, in the old abandoned house there. That’s if you’re up for some action in the future.”

Eren nodded with a smile. Maybe he would, at least to get more information on these people. He stepped into safe ground, his legs feeling a bit weak from all the adrenaline. As he withdrew, he gave the group a small wave with his hand.

Every single one of them returned it, with the exception of Marrow of course, who literally couldn’t. The creature shuffled restlessly back and forth with his boney front limbs. Eren wondered if the parahuman was underneath there somewhere or if he was the type of Changer to completely change his appearance.

As Eren pondered this, the Karanes Allies shot into the night, the rhythmic boom boom of Marrow’s sprint fading into the distance.

Chapter Text

Eren began setting into an unbudging pattern on his supervision-free days. He called them Eren-days, or sometimes Eren-Armin-days. Most of these was spent somewhere around Mitras with no one but himself or Armin. It induced an addictive feeling in him, like he could sport wings whenever out and about on those days. It was a rush of something pleasurable he hadn’t had in a long time, something precious in the palm of his hand. He had no intention of letting go.

After the first Eren-day he tried to keep a low profile. It had gone out of control on that first day and he’d spent the next day waiting for the proverbial hammer to absolutely fucking drop-kick him. But — nothing. Not even a hint of anything from Orbit or the PRT, which actually made it easier to sleep at night, for a time. Eren had actually managed to escape the scrutiny. It was, frankly, mind blowing on a cosmic scale. He had raced across downtown Mitras on a boney beast, creating property damage of a number he refused to look up on the internet. They’d even made the news, for fuck’s sake. If an intern somewhere mapped the trajectory of the beast and Eren’s tracker together, they would find a perfect match. Hopefully a large Changer and Eren’s scrawny ass continued to be absolutely incompatible to even use in the same sentence.

Eren would not step foot in Karanes until he knew for sure that the storm had blown over.

Thus, this Eren-day consisted of eating takeout and decorating his new favorite place to be. His costume laid hidden in his room inside an old worn down box, nothing to really warrant attention, exactly what Eren was aiming toward.

Eren huffed as he trudged up the complex stairs with a large cardboard box in both hands, thai takeout balancing precariously on top of it. Maybe he should take a trip out to Karanes soon. He couldn’t deny it — the allure to find out more about that mysterious group he’d met was strong. Heroing was hard. With his lack of experience, doing it as a rogue was harder than he had imagined. Joining other hero groups was out of the question — the PRT would eventually come knocking. Maybe a young rag-tag group was what he needed to study. It wouldn’t hurt to just go and see and perhaps learn a thing or two.

The muscles in his legs started burning as Eren neared the top. He had frequented the rooftop often enough now that it felt safe to make it his. No one else showed their face up there or kicked him out, inviting Eren to do as he liked with it. The feeling of this complex, to Eren, was that it was a halfway point. It was near downtown, which should make it expensive to live in, but it was also extremely worn down which had to have been driving down the price. This house was for those that had money, but aimed to move to a nicer place. No one really cared for this place, which meant that no one really cared about Eren either.

Just acquaintances passing through the night, at this point.

Eren stopped in front of the door which made a new problem come to mind. He narrowed his eyes, looking at the door handle. Well then. He took a small hop back, raising his leg and put his boot down on the handle. It was a careful balancing act, Eren would rather not eat his takeout from the floor. The weight of his leg was enough to push down the handle and with a forceful push of his leg, the door flew up. And banged into the wall. Eren winced, but made a quick slip through before the door came back with a vengeance.

Eren made sure that the door shut properly, before rounding the corner gingerly to walk to his little corner of the world. His… occupied corner of the world. Eren sighed at the sight of the familiar attire. “Well, at least you didn’t make me jump out of my body this time. Hi.”

Orbit, today in his black night suit, turned his torso to the side to get a proper look at the boy. Wait, how long had the guy been here? “Hello,” the hero said at Eren’s approach, before making a point of looking around the space, which Eren had begun decorating already. “Seems like you didn’t take my warning to heart.”

Eren put the cardboard box down beside Orbit with a grunt. “You may not have noticed, but I’m not exactly good at following instructions,” he answered with a huff, wiping at his slightly damp forehead with his sleeve, stretching his back.

“It hasn’t completely escaped my notice,” the Protectorate hero said, with what sounded like a hint of a smile. Not that Eren would really know.

Eren suddenly froze up. Orbit didn’t know, did he? Eren had had a mask on, he had checked it constantly, in fact. His hair had been shielded by the hood. There was no way. Still, Eren had to pry, for his own peace of mind. “Not to sound impolite or something like that, but why are you here, exactly?”

“Would you believe me if I said that I find your case curious? Ah, I guess that isn’t much of an answer.” The hero tapped a few fingers on the railing. “This is usually part of my patrol route, and I couldn’t help but notice that this place had started filling up with things and trinkets.” Orbit tilted his head, making those dead owl eyes set their sights on Eren. “Despite me remembering precisely that I had told someone not long ago to not spend their time on one?”

“Eh, can you really fault me?” Eren asked, crouching down to open the top of the box. “This is a sweet place, with a nice view, that has basically been abandoned to the whims of nature. I simply took the chance to take it back. It does give one peace of mind, don’t you think?”

Orbit seemed to let it go faster than Eren had expected. “Heaven knows we need it these days,” Orbit sighed, turning back to the sight of Mitras. It was late enough that the large corporate buildings cast a radiant glow on the rest of the city, making up for a pretty skyline.

“Rough week?” Eren asked, trying to tangle out a few of the cables which had somehow intertwined in their brief transport time. How was it that each time two or more cables were put inside a tight space together, they always found ways to tangle themselves into an impressive impression of yarn? Eren yanked hard in one end in quiet frustration.

“It almost always is as a part of the Protectorate. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped the public’s notice that more Tinker tech has popped up lately either. It’s something that has our hands full, nevertheless.”

Eren looked up from the cable to Orbit, slowing his movements. “Is it that bad?” Eren thought of Armin and his prediction.

Orbit crossed his arms. “Stolen tinker tech is never a good thing. But when nobodies or gang members get their grimey hands on them, it seems like the result is even more destructive. Tinker tech is highly specialized to their owner, as I’m sure you know. It may look like a regular gun, but what comes out of it can be anything. A simple box can hide complex mechanics that you don’t know the purpose of unless you push the on-button.” Orbit shook his head. “There’s Tinkers all over the world that report stolen tech, never to be seen again. They surface in the underground of places like this. It’s madness out there right now.”

Eren frowned, looking out over the city. His home. His safe home. “The media…?”

“We have requested that they withhold some of the things happening right now. Panic would do no one any favors.”

Eren hummed, thinking. Once again he felt immense frustration at having a power that he knew could make a difference, yet being shackled by the ones that could use his help. And from out of nowhere, Eren realized that this was a hopeless battle of morals. The PRT wouldn’t change their opinion on Eren’s power. No, it was likely that they thought his commands dangerous to the futures of other parahumans, of what society would make of it and the hideous potential of what parahumans could do and what they could be. A destructive physical power was something that could be contained, fought with brute force, but Eren’s power was one that operated in the dark of the psyche, something invisible that could ensnare even the most stubborn of minds. They were silencing him because of fear of the unknown. They were choosing the other parahumans over him, the individual, like a lamb sent for slaughter for the good of the masses. 

They had decided that what they were doing was just, that Eren’s power was something in the wrong, something unnatural that shouldn’t see the light of day or be used against other people. Only in their most desperate moments had they turned to him, and it was only for the good of the people. Never for him. Never for him.

The world had never done a damn thing for him.

Eren sat stunned, hands wound tightly around the rough edge of the cardboard box. “I wish I could help,” he said weakly, the words turning out to sound more helpless than he had meant them to be. He felt the strong urge to just… escape the city right the fuck now. He wouldn’t be able to, he knew, and the knowledge set him even more off edge. He was free right now, but he wasn’t.

“Why couldn’t you?” Orbit said, rather quickly, as if Eren would humor him.

“You know why,” Eren muttered, hands sliding off the paper pulp material to make a second attempt at the cables. Orbit had seen how the PRT handled him, how restrictive they were of his free movement. They had enforced the same on Orbit during their mission, it was only their separate encounters that had made the hero relax around him, noticing something amiss. Then again, the leader had the privilege of being near him without fear of his power, something that couldn’t be said for the rest of them.

“The PRT?” Orbit stated, like clockwork. He had turned toward Eren again, something he seemed to do when he was interested to gauge Eren’s reaction to something. Eren wished he could do the same, reverse the sense of power and control.

Eren started up on the cables again, getting lost in thought of what to answer. It was a dangerous web he was ensnared within. Orbit was one with power, and not just literally. As a Protectorate leader of a large American city, he had pull and respect in the parahuman world. For Eren, that could be a boon, as well as a bane. Eren was balancing on an Orbit-made fence. What way would he fall? Get the hero’s sympathy, or the force of his rejection? He wanted to trust Orbit, he really did, but the large-scale demolition of his safety was a threat depending on one person’s decision, now that Eren had truly captured his interest. 

Orbit wore a mask, but who was the man underneath that mask? Just? Power-hungry? Kind-hearted? Eren knew that masks were dangerous. His first father had a mask of properness that had people flocking to him outside the house. Only Eren had suffered the true man’s wrath underneath the mask, leaving him wounded for life in more ways than one. 

Who was Orbit, really?

Orbit slowly turned away, taking Eren’s silence as unwillingness to answer. “I guess you should know another thing. They know I have been in contact with you. They knew the moment my card was used in your home.”

Eren’s head snapped up so fast that it was in danger of whiplash. His mouth suddenly found words again. “Wait, what? What did they say?”

“Frustratingly little, if you're that worried about it. They only told me I should be wary of your power, but as we have already established that I’m not affected, they couldn’t say much about it. Of course, they also wanted to know how I figured out your identity, but I assured them that it was an accident and that it would get no further than me, like I told you. They seemed a little bit bothered, but there’s nothing in their stipulations that could prevent us from interacting. I have checked.” The hero continued to look out over the city, maybe continuously looking for something suspicious that would catch the eye of a savior.

Eren successfully tangled out one of the cables from the lot, his shoulders somewhat slumped. ”I wouldn't use it on innocents.”

Orbit shuffled his feet. “Hm?”

“My power,” Eren said silently, licking his lip in concentration. “I wouldn’t use it with malice on those that wouldn’t deserve it.”

Orbit let his arms down by his sides, then turned and crouched down on the other side of the cardboard box, coat swinging in the wind and falling gracefully around him, bringing the two close. Eren’s hands stilled, looking up into those mysterious eyes. They were partly shadowed by the black hood, but to Eren’s surprise Orbit reached up and pulled the hood backwards, giving Eren a more intimate look at that white mask in the shape of a barn owl face. He briefly shifted his eyes up to notice the black mop of hair before once again meeting the hero’s eyes behind those lenses.

“Why are you telling me that?” Orbit asked earnestly, slowly, like he was seeing the crack currently on display inside Eren. 

“Because I want someone to listen. I want someone to help me,” Eren signed with his hands, words he couldn’t speak. Wouldn’t dare speak. It was as if his hands worked by their own volition, he had had no intention of letting those short sentences free. It felt good though, like a secret admittance. But that was what it had to remain. He had to look out for himself. He didn’t know what this thing building between them was — perhaps a mutual display of curiosity, or a series of happenstances that none of them had the heart of breaking, but it was something. Eren was playing with fire, wanting the help but also being frustrated at the constant anxiety that these encounters brought.

Orbit’s mask tilted down minutely, the only sign that he perceived the motions. “What does that mean?” he asked when he and Eren once again locked eyes. 

Eren’s hands twitched at that moment, almost desperate to rip off the white barrier between them and see the expression beneath. For one second he felt intense anger that the percentage of the population knowing sign language was so small. Eren took a silent breath and then let it out, letting the red ire float with the outflow. It was just how things were.

“Nothing important,” Eren mumbled, yanking one more cable loose, enough for him to use. He stood up, bringing the cable full of lights with him, making an eye measure of the partial rails on the edge of the roof. He approached the rail as Orbit stood up. Another thought flitted by his mind, something that he was curious enough to ask about, something that would flip the script and take attention away from his own vulnerability. “You once said that I reminded you of someone. Who were you thinking about?”

This time, it was Orbit who remained silent, and after about two turns of the fairy lights around the roof fence, Eren realized that he had potentially touched a sore spot.

“You don’t have to answer,” Eren said after that. “I understand.”

Eren looked back to see Orbit observing him wordlessly, something that made the hero look away. 

They were both silent after that. Eren continued to tangle out the fairy lights and hung them all over the place, once or twice getting the Protectorate leader to assist him in holding something in place. It was amazing how many lights you could find in thrift stores, just forgotten. It worked out in Eren’s favor. He wanted this to be his little bright pocket of hope. The chairs left something to be desired, but the cheap camping chairs had been easily transportable and within his budget. Orbit curiously stuck around, watching Eren’s progress when he wasn’t needed. The hero had a strange air of thoughtfulness radiating around him as he followed Eren running around. Eren honestly expected him to leave every other minute, but something must have made him stay. Instead, Orbit gracefully declined a bite of the thai as Eren stopped for a short break.

The last thing for him to do today was connect the extension cables to the doorway wall which seemed to have a functioning socket outlet.

The moment the last connection was put together, the corner of the rooftop was bathed in glowing lights, exactly as Eren had planned. He released the cable and stretched both arms out to his sides. “Ta-da!” Eren exclaimed, proud tones making their way out of his throat.

Orbit looked around, black attire now illuminated by all the hundreds of small light sources around him. “Not bad, kid,” he uttered, turning around. They both stood and admired the suddenly much more cozy surrounding. 

They had to part ways soon after that. It was getting really late, with Eren having to catch a tram back home and Orbit probably having to return to his patrol. But this time, Eren had to admit that he didn’t think it was the last time they would meet. Somehow, the two of them had become intertwined by happenstance alone. Who knew where it would lead, but Eren was curious enough to want more.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

In hindsight, Eren should have argued against Armin choosing PE as a senior elective. If he was being honest, Eren believed the blond had chosen it as an addition simply because Eren was going to do it. Armin was too kind, sometimes to his detriment. Seeing he had a free spot, his friend hadn’t seemed to have thought twice about joining Eren.

Armin had argued that it was healthy to learn more about lifelong exercise, nutrition and training regimes, and Eren would agree, but it was on days like these that Eren regretted not being more painfully honest, because PE was far from Armin’s top subject.

It was true that PE in senior year aimed for a more adult approach on the subject, but every once in a while Mr. Guareno would let his students loose, and today that culminated in a game of dodgeball. 

Eren himself was somewhat athletic with enough natural talent to get by. In fact, Eren had aimed to join the high school football team when he first came here. The PRT had vetoed that immediately. It was just one of the many wedges that resided between them, something that Eren wouldn’t forgive them for in a very long time. It didn’t exactly help that Jean was the star quarterback right now, and somehow the dick had figured out what Eren’s intentions had been and just assumed that Eren didn’t make the team. 

They didn’t get along. At all. Giving Jean ammunition to use against him was also dangerous, because Jean seemed to thrive the most when he could use something to poke Eren’s sleeping ire. The guy seemed to see himself as some sort of God, better than anyone else. Eren didn’t actually know how it had all started, with Jean and his gang targeting Eren and Armin. It just seemed to continuously build. It was another reason Eren didn’t want Armin to join PE, but he was almost afraid of voicing that thought. It seemed so condescending, like Eren could handle it but Armin couldn’t.

But admittedly, it made him nervous.

Their PE teacher didn’t have an easy job. Eren and Jean were a lot to handle. Today, Mr. Guareno had put the two of them on the same team, with the crystal clear attempt for them to get along with having a common goal. The more the teacher tried, the more sparks intended to fly. 

Eren dove to avoid another stone-hard ball thrown from the opposition, accidently bumping into Jean who had tried to get in a better position to throw. 

“Watch it, dipshit!” the douchebag said, pushing Eren’s shoulder away and sparing Eren a sizzling look.

“Maybe have some semblance of situational awareness,” Eren signed back with a sneer, knowing full well that Jean had seen him coming. The most frustrating thing in the world was not being able to make a proper retort that Jean could understand. Magath had refused to translate some of the foul things Eren had tried to get him to the few times the anger had been strong enough to stoop to that level. He threw a frustrated gaze at Armin, who looked on with worry from the other side. The blonde avoided balls by sneakily falling back, putting bodies between him and the red spherical impressions of concrete.

Jean and his God-complex probably gloated every time a jab went unanswered, watching the vexation grow in Eren’s eyes, only laughing at his wild gestures.

Eren hated him. He really did. Mom always said that hate was a strong word, but Eren had to disagree there. Jean and his followers had been nothing but a nuisance to Eren and Armin since day 1. There was no excusing that. Eren wanted to wipe away that goddamn sneer off that face so fucking bad, he sometimes thought he would loose himself to it. 

Hathaway, his guard for today, stood at the wall by the teacher, simply observing. There wasn’t really much for him to do during a PE session, only doing his job and keeping a brief eye on Eren. With the new freedom of the ankle monitor, Eren thought the human surveillance was more annoying than ever. He’d have a taste of something better and he would never be able to go back completely to before.

A ball swished by Eren’s shoulder and he reeled back at the close call. To his right, Jean dodged a ball expertly and gave him a foul side eye. As much as Jean liked to win, the feeling probably went to war with the feeling that would like to see Eren lose. He would probably see that Eren was out before using that arm of his to throw a winning shot.

Eren clenched his fingers and his mouth tightened, once again paying attention to the game and running for a ball. Caleb of Eren's team gave a victorious shout as a familiar whump signaled that he’d made a hit. Casting a quick look over to the other side, Eren was happy to notice that it wasn’t Armin, but it was Armin’s shield that had fallen.

Armin played a passive game. He knew he didn’t have the abilities to really do much in a game of dodgeball, but Eren admired that he tried. 

Eren backed away with his own ball, and thus gained a perfect view as Jean drew back his arm and then fired on all cylinders. Eren knew that those balls were firm, and getting hit with a throw from Jean was never fun. The rubber ball flew, at a higher level than than Eren expected, and he only had the presence to frown at the height before Armin was hit straight in the face, the whump louder this time as the red ball from hell hit the pliable flesh.

Armin dropped to his knees with a high-pitched howl, holding his nose.

An outcry immediately sounded from Armin’s team. “That didn’t count!”, “That was too high!”, “No way he’s out!”

Jean and Eren’s team instead snickered and produced some audible ouch’s. Eren himself snapped his head in Jean’s direction, as if he’d already expected the smirk directed in his direction. 

Jean had done that on fucking purpuse. He was a quarterback for fuck’s sake, he probably had the most accurate — and vicious — throw of them all. He knew what he’d been doing, aiming for Armin’s face like that. Its only purpose was to hurt, and anger Eren.

And boy, was Eren angry.

Eren threw the ball to the side, game completely forgotten and stalked toward Jean. It was as if his sight had transformed into tunnel vision, Jean being the target at the end of it. His fingers twitched and he formed a fist, and it was by the skin of his neck that he didn’t start shouting right then and there. 

A hand grasping the fabric of his back shirt stopped him in his tracks. Eren looked up at Mr. Guareno with frustration. 

“Enough, you two,” the bulky teacher said. He jutted out his cheek at a person in the other end of the room. “McGuire, take Arlert to the school nurse.”

“Yes, sir,” the student said and crouched down beside Armin, taking a hold of him by his upper arm, helping him up. There was a small pool of blood on the floor and an escaping flow through Armin’s fingers.

Eren immediately shifted gears and started walking toward the two, every intention of following. The grip on his shirt refused to relent.

“Not so fast, Jaeger. They can handle themselves. Switch over to team blue to even it out.”

Eren met the non yieldable eyes of Mr. Guareno. The standoff took a couple of seconds, before Eren looked away with a frustrated breath. He took off his red band and threw it to the ground, joining the other side of the playing field just as Armin disappeared out the door.

As the game started up again, Eren hoped his eyes conveyed the murderousness he was currently feeling inside him, fixating on Jean.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It was only after the game was over and they had all showered that Eren found himself tailing Jean at a distance. Hathaway walked behind him, tapping on his phone, oblivious. 

When Jean took a turn to the boys’ bathroom, Eren made his decision. He was just going to have a quick chat, some way to relieve himself of this smoldering anger. He couldn’t function if he didn’t have somewhere to point it, release it. Afterward, he could relax. Afterward, he could go look after Armin while not feeling this guilt. Eren was pretty sure that the only reason Jean was such a dick to Armin was that it affected Eren this much.

He poked the guard to get his attention. “Just going to the bathroom,” Eren signed casually as they neared where Jean had disappeared.

“Okeydokey,” Hathaway mumbled and looked back into his phone, taking a position by the wall.

Eren observed the movement in the corner of his eye before moving on. He counted on this. The guards were lax enough that they didn’t deem it appropriate to follow him into the bathroom. There were no windows there, no reason to do anything. Except today, that was.

Eren carefully opened the door and rounded the worn corner into the smelly bathroom with its many stalls and was met with Jean checking his hair in the mirrors. Perfect.

Eren dropped his backpack to the disgusting bathroom floor, a fair price for revenge, before surging forward and gripping the front of Jean’s jacket just as the ashen-blond boy turned in his direction.

“You did that on fucking purpose, didn’t you?” Eren hissed as they both bumped into the bathroom sinks, struggling.

By reflex, Jean grabbed him right back. “So the idiot can speak! Where have these words been all this time?” Jean grinned, even as Eren was trying to claw through his shirt. He had the audacity to look as if he was enjoying this. 

Eren was pretty sure that his teeth were showing in a near-growl. His rage was coming back full-swing, faced with the same smirk the bastard had glued on his face when turning a fellow student’s face into a bloody pulp. “I’m not fucking kidding right now,” Eren breathed, trying to maneuver to land Jean against the tiled wall a bit back.

Jean was strong, a proper athlete, and didn’t budge easily. They turned in the small space, each trying to get the upper hand. Jean had strength, but Eren had tenacity. While Jean seemed to find the confrontation amusing, Eren had come here with a purpose, and that was to knock Jean down a peg. His behavior was growing more than annoying, and Eren wasn’t just going to take it anymore. Someone had to stand up for Armin, and Eren himself. It would have to be him. They had three quarters of a year left together and Eren wanted to survive the rest of it.

“The nerd chose to join PE all by himself, you know. If you join PE in senior year, you have to expect to be serious. If he can’t take that, he should just quit. It’s him and a group of athletes. Even you’re in a bit over your head, I’m sure. Completely useless out there,” Jean gritted as he jerked Eren forward, almost making the cape lose his footing. Eren instead turned, making Jean’s back face the door.

“He should quit, because of you?” Eren said, expression thunderous. Jean didn’t even care that he’d hurt someone. “You know, I have something you should do, too. You look at yourself so high up in the sky, why don’t you come down to the level of the rest of us and lick the bathroom floor?”

It wasn’t really something he had planned. Eren had meant it when he said that he tried not to use his power too much, but alas… The effect was immediate. He only felt gratification as he released Jean’s front as the boy dropped to his knees in front of Eren, displaying his hands on the floor and poking his tongue out to lick at the absolutely disgusting bacteria-stained floor with a grunt.

Eren would forever remember it, the power of seeing Jean on his knees in front of him, literally licking up the dirt from the floor his boots stood on. There wasn’t an inch of guilt in his body at that moment. He basked in the feeling of righteousness, until he remembered that it was Jean he’d done this to.

Actually, now actually seemed like a good time to make his escape. Eren had done what he came here to do, and Jean’s pride had certainly taken a hit no matter which way you looked at it. The dick should be grateful that he hadn’t taken a picture. Right. He began to make his way past Jean, but a forceful hand shot out and took a deathgrip hold of his ankle. Before Eren could fall Jean surged up and grabbed his collar.

“What the fuck did you do,” the other boy said slowly, sputtering and spitting, brows sitting low in a bloodthirsty expression. This was no longer a game, Jean looked like he was ready for a fight. His entire demeanor changed, body tense and stance steady.

“Let go,” Eren huffed and clawed at Jean’s fingers on his clothes. He hadn’t meant it as a command, but his power surely took it as one.

Jean did let go in a flash, but in a millisecond of time he came back, ramming his hands into Eren’s shoulders. There wasn’t much force behind the action, but Eren still went flying into the wall a distance back, completely losing his breath.

Eren slid down, wheezing, holding his stomach. He looked up through the strands of his hair, watching a rageful Jean approach. It seemed like he hadn’t deemed this done yet. Good. Eren wanted more.

Despite his lungs struggling to function Eren stood up, hunched forward, and launched a surprise tackle, his hunched form ramming into Jean’s chest. Their legs got intertwined with each other, making both of them fall with the momentum. 

Jean recovered first, and launched a heavy punch into Eren’s face. It connected with his cheek, probably splitting a bit of his skin. This one didn’t make him fly, but it did hurt like a bitch. Eren gasped and tried to sit up. He managed to block the second punch Jean was trying to hit him with and tried to recollect his lungs.

“Let me… punch you,” Eren wheezed and used the forced opening to lay a haymaker on Jean’s cheek in return, which really hurt his hand. He shook it with a hiss between his teeth.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jean coughed, the same time Eren wheezed. “You don’t know the shit you’ve just brought upon yourself. I’ll see to that. I’ll make your useless life a living hell.”

There was a shriek from one of the stalls, a student making his escape through their war zone.

Eren had to get up. Jean was stronger, and getting pinned beneath him would be his downfall. So he scooted away, holding a hand over his chest and used a sink to help him to rise. Jean followed, recovered from the punch and gripping a sink himself. He started to rip away a few paper towels with one hand, and Eren was confused why he would need that now. Afraid to get blood on his clothes? But the ashen-haired boy must have figured something out, because he scrunched the paper into a mass and then launched at Eren. Eren expected a punch and tried to block it, but Jean instead tried to forcefully shove the paper mass into Eren’s mouth.

Eren sputtered at the dry material, reaching up to get it out as he was once again shoved by Jean. He went flying this time too despite the lack of forceful power, and the only thing that kept him from going across the room was holding on to Jean. They both went against the sinks, and one of their elbows must’ve hit a mirror, because suddenly they were showered with mirror shards in an explosion of glass and a large shattering sound.

Jean grew more and more frustrated as Eren continued to struggle, trying to stay upright. Just as the opening of the door sounded around the corner, their skirmish came to a head. Jean freed his hands and put them on Eren’s chest again as if to shove him, but as Jean pushed, Eren curiously didn’t move an inch. Instead, his chest started burning, as if it was boiling. Eren gasped around the paper, producing a dull moan and falling to his knees. He rasped a pained breath as his own hands came up to his chest where Jean’s had just left. 

As Eren groaned in panic, yells erupted from the doorway. He was promptly pushed down with his stomach to the floor, and in the corner of his eye he could see Hathaway pressing a knee to his back, a discreet theat with the stun gun to his back. He was talking on the phone.

Meanwhile, a teacher was restraining Jean, who had started yelling profanities at all parties involved.

Chest still burning tortuously, Eren tiredly spat out the mass of paper in his mouth. He was pretty sure that his guard had already figured why it was there to begin with. His forehead met with the bathroom floor.

He was so fucked.

Chapter Text

Eren was raced to the PRT compound in record time.

From what he gathered, people were… not happy. This was a serious transgression, a worse slip up than previous times, not to speak about the fight itself. Eren wiped his cheek, coming away bloody. He was moody, and he had a death grip on the seat belt, holding it out from his chest. His chest was still burning, a sort of pain he hadn’t felt before. He leant forward, finding it hard to sit up straight.

What was that? With what Jean displayed, it was almost as if… almost like he… no. It just couldn't be. He put a hand against his chest, only to feel the pain intensifying. He tore his hand away with a hiss.

Hathaway was looking at Eren like a bird of prey, eyes clear and alert, probably wondering what the hell was wrong with him. 

The car stopped with an uncomfortable brake, sending Eren forward. He caught himself with a rapid hand to the window frame, teeth gritted. 

“Come on. And don’t try anything, you’ll have eyes on you.” Hathaway made his way out of the car, resolutely slamming the door shut. He was probably annoyed that all this shit happened on his shift. Eren couldn’t blame him. Paperwork, and all that.

Eren swallowed with closed eyes, almost feeling sorry for himself. His back hurt. His face hurt. Not to talk about the weirdness of his chest. Still, he followed Hathaway out of the car, resigned to having to play nice and walk on glass shards for the next few days. Annoying. It wasn’t fair that every time this happened, the reaction was as if there had just been a calamity. He hadn’t even been able to check up on Armin before he was dragged out of the school.

Often when Eren did slip up, there would be a meeting. Sometimes PRT personnel came to his home, sometimes he met them somewhere else to talk about what transpired. Maybe he would have a period where his actions would be more monitored for a while. He didn’t really know what to expect today. He’d commanded students before, but mostly in like, mild manners in a fit of anger. With Jean, he had commanded him while fighting to improve his odds.

For parahumans, it was basically against the rules to do it against others if it wasn’t against serious threats. Especially minors.

Shit, they would have to talk to Jean about it too. And there really was no way that Jean didn’t know that Eren was a parahuman now, right? Shit. Fucking shit. Could he try to make Jean forget? Or no, the PRT would not take that lightly if they found out. Eren really was at a loss about how to proceed to make it out of this unscathed, on several fronts.

Other guards joined them at their backs. Eren wouldn’t dare a command here, they knew it, he knew it, so he wasn’t sure if this was a reminder to himself or to show an outwards look of strength. Whatever it was, like Armin said, it was a glorious fabrication.

Eren walked slightly tilted forward past the pristine white halls, trying to make it seem as normal as possible. It burned otherwise. His neck felt damp, yet he himself felt cold. Cold sweats. He didn’t know what Jean had done to him, but it didn't feel good. It made him feel uneasy, worried. Frankly, Eren didn’t feel like playing up his regret for the gallery, but it was also in his best interest to keep his relationship with the PRT at a steady, unmoving level.

They pressed into an elevator like sardines, an awkward silence as they ascended upwards. The PRT had many offices spread throughout the city with the division being so large and Eren actually had no idea which one he’d been taken to. He’d been lost in his thoughts on the way here, not paying attention to the path they were traveling by car. Maybe he should have, but it didn’t matter now. He was in for an unpleasant experience no matter where he was. 

The doors pinged and they sorted themselves out of the elevator. Hathaway led the way with Eren in the middle, shadowed by their safety measures. They turned right, then left. White on white on white. Too clean. He was brought into a large conference room, not unlike the one he’d negotiated in. Also unlike last time, the air in the room was charged before he even got there. The higher ups were going at it with each other before he was there to take away their attention.

The table was big and oval-formed with a pane of glass in the middle. Many of the seats were taken already, people of lower importance instead standing by the sidelines. Eren recognized a few faces by numerous exposures alone, but most were unknown to him. A whole wall of the room was glass only, overlooking the city landscape.

“I told you it was a fucking bad idea.” It was said by someone with her back to Eren.

“Nonsense. If it'd been done without anyone there I would agree, but this is not the same,” another man chipped in.

“Are we really going there with just a school fight?” A third voice muttered, sounding tired.

Eren was quietly herded toward the end of the room full of people and seated into the head of the table, this time beside Magath, who already looked like he’d lost a few years of his life.

“It’s against the rules, and this time, we have more moving parts to consider.”

Magath burrowed his eyes into Eren, and Eren actually had the shame to meet them and then briefly look away. He had let the man down, on some level.

“What were you thinking, kid,” Magath sighed, fingers converging on the top of his nose.

Eren moved a closed fist up toward his chest on purpose to make the answering sign out of reflex, but the moment it made contact with the surface, he had to force his entire being to refrain from crying out in pain. His eyes watered, but he moved the fist outwards, instead hovering above his chest, moving it around in a circle around his heart. Sorry.

Magath eyed him curiously, but Eren once again hunched forward with a grip around the edge of the table. He couldn’t be like this when the meeting started properly, but he had to gather himself for a moment. The pain on his chest was searing, raw, his touch having made it worse.

From between the strands of his hair, he saw more people filing into the room intermittently to fill seats or take a position along the walls.

“The school?”

“Send a delegation to the principal's office. Report that we have the situation under control and are handling it appropriately.” That was Shadis’s voice.

There was a rustling of papers, tapping on a computer. “There was also property damage, sir.” 

“Pay them for it using money from the funds. We don’t want any eyes on this, so while you’re at it, cause confusion about which students were involved.”

“On it, sir.” The owner of the answering voice got up, immediately leaving his seat while calling a number on his phone and exiting the room.

A shush fell over the room then. Eren knew what that meant. He inhaled carefully, mindful of the strain it was putting on his chest, and straightened his back to sit up properly with a brave face. It was nothing but a mask.

“Jaeger,” Shadis sighed from down the table. “You know the protocol, describe everything that transpired from approximately 10:45 am forward today—”

The door banged open, cutting Shadis off and making everyone, including Eren, turn toward the entrance. 

Eren put a hand against his cheek, looking down on the wooden part of the table in front of him. He couldn’t stop a pathetic little mumble to himself from slipping between his lips, unnoticed by the room. “Noo…”

In strode his parents, Carla looking angry, Grisha at her back looking apologetic. How they had gotten here so fast was a mystery, but Eren wasn’t about to question the intensity of his mother and father. 

Shadis tapped a few irritant fingers on the table. Eren waited for the explosion, but Shadis instead seemed to be thinking. “Mr. and Mrs Jaeger. It seems like you got the call.”

“We did,” Carla answered. Her eyes then snapped to Eren, those hands had slipped away from his face and instead wound itself against his wrist, hidden from view. At the look of him, her tense features instead melted away to surprise and worry. “He’s hurt. Why are you having this meeting before he has been looked at?” Carla turned to Shadis again.

Shadis, who seemed to have a chronic case of tiredness on his face, if possible, started to look even more worn down. Eren actually suspected that Shadis hated to deal with parents. He seemed much more comfortable with putting Eren on the spot by himself. “We deemed Mr. Jaeger well enough to go through this before getting medical attention. There are certain urgent measures that need to be dealt with from his statement.”

Grisha nodded and moved to take a seat, but Carla moved around the table toward Eren and when she got there, bent down to get closer, get some sense of privacy. Her hand hovered precariously over his split cheek. “Are you okay?” she whispered with a soft caress.

Eren sat still for a moment, but eventually nodded. The answer was more complex than he could portray. Technically he was alright, but he was not without pain. If he cataloged his body, then he probably had bruises on his back. The dried smudge of blood on his cheek was flakey and rough, something he wanted to wash off as fast as possible. His hand was not that bad, but he could feel some kind of pain while flexing it. Then there was the problem of his chest. It was the most painful of all, and the reason he wanted to go home in order to assess the possible injury. Just the chafing fabric of his shirt triggered the pain.

Carla looked back and forth between his eyes and Eren rubbed her forearm to let her know that he could take it. He could. Eren wanted this over and done with, he wouldn’t want his wounds treated while anxiously knowing this was coming. This was better. Eren would rather take the heat first.

His mom tightened her lips, but nonetheless got up and joined Grisha at a seat down the table, who had been watching their conversation. 

Shadis sighed, turning to Eren, which elicited the rest of the room to do the same.

There came the anxiety again. Eren’s fingers nipped at his pants, trying to claw himself out of the overwhelming surge of feelings that made his stomach feel hollow. Perhaps he should have spent his time in the car planning what to tell these sharks instead of having his head in the clouds. Eren’s sense of hindsight was always exceptional. This was no time to be a shark himself though. This was the hour to grovel, to put himself in as much of a good light as possible.

Eren sent a discreet peek at his parents. Having them here was both a strength and a weakness. With them here, the PRT officials could not use their brutish ways too blatantly. But then again, Eren had gotten himself into trouble again so that they had to come running. How much would it take before they decided he wasn’t worth it? A teeny tiny voice deep in his mind always worried about that, despite the proof against it.

“Um, we have to go back to this morning first for some important context.” Eren had not gone after Jean for no reason after all. They had to understand. “The other student, his name is Jean Kirstein, he deliberately hurt my friend before all this other stuff went down.” He refused to reveal that it was during dodgeball. It wouldn’t lend itself well to his credibility. Besides, he didn’t know the sign for dodgeball. A relief. Magath translated his words out to the room.

Shadis tilted his head before turning towards Hathaway who stood across from him against the wall. Hathaway blinked once before giving a single, curt nod. Thank god.

Shadis hummed and returned his attention to Eren. “Continue.”

But before Eren could do just that, the door unceremoniously opened again, once again bringing attention to it. The white in Eren’s peripheral should, perhaps, have been a warning. 

Eren snapped his gaze up to the entrance just as one of the officers near it mumbled “Orbit!” in surprise. Because yes, the white clad hero was strutting into the room as if it wasn’t odd that he was here at all. However, it certainly was. Not once had a cape been with them during a meeting like this. The grandiose costume was like a bright star in an empty night sky among the blue-collared officers in their suits and uniforms.

Orbit was inviting himself to this meeting, Eren realized with a startle. The looks thrown his way were uncomfortable, stunned. None of the friendliness one would expect from an appearance of a trusted celebrity.  

Eren just knew when the eyes behind that mask zeroed in on him. He shrunk back into his seat, aiming to appear smaller. His anxiety folded back into a new form, one he would call being scared shitless. These were two stormfronts he could safely say was making him feel ill at ease by meeting. Three, actually, if he counted his parents' presence.

Curiously, Shadis seemed equally miffed at the presence of the Protectorate. He made no qualms about showing so. “Why are you here?” Shadis had never devoted his time to that of pleasantries (unless it was in front of the cameras, of course).

Orbit joined a few officers (who by the way looked intimidated) by the wall, leaning back with crossed arms. “Just listening. Observing.” Calm. Casual. A stark contrast to the rest of the room. The officers mumbled among themselves, creating a chorus of criss-cross noise, only subsiding somewhat as Shadis’s voice cut through it all. 

“Don’t you have more important things to do?”

The eyes of the owl and the director met in silence. It was like watching a challenge issued in real time. A clash of fire and ice. Two of the most powerful men in the city. The room waited with bated breath.

Shadis leant back, eyes squinted. “Very well.” Acceptance. A draw. Shadis turned back to Eren, who had to steel himself not to jump in his seat in the simmering aftereffects of the previous intensity. “Again, continue.”

To that, Eren actually did startle. He’d almost forgotten that there was an interrogation going on, his head spinning with the fast turn the attention had gone from Orbit to himself. Plus, he’d subconsciously leant forward again in order to get his shirt away from his skin. His eyes squinted infinitesimally as he once again straightened against the pain, trying to show nothing. 

“Like I said, he hurt my friend deliberately, and then tried to shove it in my face. I later tried to confront him about it, which is when the fight broke out.” Eren knew he was being too stringy with the details, tapping nervously at the side of his right hand, which was aching in a pulsatile manner because he had smashed it into Jean’s cheekbone. It made signing more difficult, Magath even pausing at a word trying to figure the sign out.

“This was between periods?”

“Yes,” Eren signed in tiny motion, as close to a non-verbal mumble he could muster, refusing to meet any of the eyes focused on him. Magath, Shadis, Mom, Dad, Orbit; he didn’t dare look at any of them at all.

A sigh was heard. “We’re going to need more details than that, and you know it.”

Eren did. He wanted desperately to claw at his shirt again, but forced the urge down. He couldn’t even sign otherwise. It was almost in an absentminded manner he recounted the events with a bit more specificity. “I confronted him in the bathroom, out of sight. We exchanged a few words, only making me more angry. So I slipped up with my power again — nothing too egregious — which brought the fight on.” Slip-up was loosely used in this instance, Eren still remembered how good it felt. “We skirmished a bit, more like a scuffle, really… Both of us got a few punches in, but nothing much more than that before we got interrupted.”

Eren flicked his gaze up just fast enough to notice that Shadis still kept his focus on him.

“Who instigated the fight?”

“Mutually,” Eren answered automatically. It wasn’t technically a lie, but it was how Eren felt about the event. Still, lying would bring him more pain in the future if other evidence surfaced. “But… If we’re speaking actions, then yes, my action escalated it into the fight,” Eren resigned to sign.

“And there is no doubt that the student now knows of your status?”

Status. His parahuman-ness. Eren thought back to Jean and how he had tried to stuff paper in his mouth to stop him from speaking. “He knows,” Eren replied with a frown, fear welling up in him. Nothing good could come out of Jean knowing about him. His body was growing more damp by the minute, nervous sweat making its presence known. Eren’s gaze trailed the swirls in the (most likely) expensive wood of the table.

“You used your power during the fight?” Shadis questioning was void of emotion, making it hard for Eren to know how he was doing.

The question was making its path into dangerous waters, topics that would make him look bad. He could omit things, but outright lying was like dancing with death. If they couldn’t trust him, then he couldn't argue with his truths. It was knowledge he had gained early on in his parahuman days.

“A few times…” Eren settled on, the admittance feeling like a burn. Still nothing to the burning on his chest though. He pulled a little on his collar, further loosening the front. He flicked his eyes to his mom, who was frowning at Shadis. 

“Why?”

“Well, he was stronger. I have to be able to protect myself, you can’t fault me for that,” Eren contested, suddenly defensive. He couldn’t do anything to these people. It was as if he didn’t have the same rights as other individuals. It made him bitter, irreversibly angry. He hoped it showed on his expressions with his signs.

“School fights happen. Had you defended yourself with your fists, there would be nothing to talk about here. Others wouldn’t have the same privilege of powers as you, so when you know you aren’t allowed, why did you use your power like that?” With that, Shadis leant forward, hands clasped on the table. 

Eren bit back a thoughtless remark, stopping himself from self-destructive actions. He had plenty of reasons… That it was a reflex. That he wanted to get on the same level as Jean. Revenge. But from an outsider perspective, those wouldn’t hold any weight. Why did he use his power? Maybe to make it more fair, but… His power was everything except fair.

Eren stumbled a bit over his thoughts, eventually stuttering out a movement, “I… I don’t know.”

Watching Shadis through the corners of his eyes, he could see that the answer wasn’t good enough; there was a downturned corner of his mouth and a flicker of scorn in his eyes.

Eren flicked a lightning-fast gaze toward Orbit’s blank mask before taking it back to stare at the wooden table, anxiety soaring.

“I have a better question,” Carla intersected, to the surprised expressions of the officers lining the table. “Why is our son put in a position where he feels like he has to use it? You preach parahuman safety and growth, but where is our son’s safety? Why are you letting other students get to him?”

It was a good question, but Eren had the bitter truth to that one. He had actually requested the inaction by his guards himself. Because… It didn’t help him. When he was younger, the fact that adults had to come to his rescue or scold his peers gave him a huge ‘wimp’ stample by the forehead. Thus, his guards were to not intervene if something happened, unless it was a direct danger to him or he showed signs of using his powers. So if that was what his mother meant, Eren guiltily kept his mouth shut.

“Mrs. Jaeger, we cannot decide the actions of other students,” Shadis sighed in a condescending manner that tickled Eren’s hackles.

“But you can change his environment,” Grisha chipped in. 

Shadis narrowed his eyes minimally, then turned in the direction of Eren. “Mr. Jaeger, how would you feel about transferring to another school? We would not be able to extend the same offer to your friend.”

Manipulative bastard. It was an immediate dealbreaker. “I wouldn’t want that, sir,” Eren signed choppily, afterwards grabbing at the material of his pants in a vice-like clawed grip.

“You see, the options available to us with Mr. Jaeger’s consent are few. With that in mind, he will have to keep himself in check, like any other parahuman who doesn’t want to end up in the Deep.” That statement was inches away from a threat.

Shadis was already irked and it wasn’t exactly a secret that his parents were growing more frustrated by the minute. Eren was trying to become one with the chair behind him at this point.

“You say that, yet you make this harder on him than anyone else. You give him next to no wiggle room to make mistakes.”

“Because we have to.” Shadis was definitely tip-toeing with his parents and Orbit in attendance. “We also may have to review Mr. Jaegers’ new privileges until we see betterment. This is not Mr. Jaeger's first or second transgression this semester.”

“No!” Eren found himself protesting, slamming a hand into the table for good measure to make some kind of noise before grimaging and sinking back down in his chair. God, he had no energy for this with the pain.

“Absolutely not,” his mom also protested, leaning in over the table.

“Eren Jaeger is designated by the school as a troublemaker,” an unknown officer decided to say, joining the fray. “There was a thought behind the monitor as a motivator and an experiment, but it hasn't paid off as of yet.”

Eren leant forward now, hand gripping the front of his shirt and a palm over his forehead and the bridge of his nose. This just wasn't happening. He couldn’t do this. His breathing wasn’t labored yet, but he could feel it threatening to increase by ways of frustration, panic and agony.

“And you’re pinning it on him to be perfect after such a small sample of time? That’s asinine.”

“What’s asinine is that we’re expected to be gracious and get nothing in return. Mr. Jaeger knew of the consequences, yet broke them without a thought.”

“By being hounded by another student! Is my son expected to lie down and just take it? You have plenty of research at your hands, you know capes use their powers as an extension of themselves, how could they not use it when cornered?”

“Is now not a great time to remind all that Mr. Jaeger practically instigated the fight on his own? He could have gone to the school’s administration, yet went directly to the other student for an altercation?”

Eren breathed in a deep breath, trying to zone out of the arguing. He clawed desperately at his shirt collar while leaning toward the table, closing his eyes and swallowing the lump in his throat. The war of words flew over the table like small missiles, making dents before a returning assault was sent out to the opposition. Eren had no words of his own. They were in the hands of the officers in this room, squeezed until there was nothing left, before those shadowy hands went for his throat instead.

His mom was almost shouting now. “The school does nothing for him. He comes back with bruises after school hours, and you let this happen time after time, knowing his past? You should be ashamed of yourselves. And then planning to take away one of the few things that makes him happier than anything? It’s like kicking him when he’s already down.”

Please, stop it.

Eren didn’t see it, but he imagined that his mom was shaking her head. Eren was checked out of this mentally by this point, having no intention of joining the battle. Maybe if he could raise his voice, but…

“This isn’t—”

“Enough.” As the firm voice cut an end to the argument, Eren snapped his head up to watch Orbit step forward, worry suddenly reaching a crescendo. Oh no. The room shut its collective mouth, perhaps having forgotten that the hero was present. If they had meant to not give Orbit valuable information today, then they had positively failed at that. With that, Eren would suffer the consequences. “The usual punishment for mild inappropriate usage of powers by a parahuman minor is supervised community service… is it not?”

Shadis actually looked uncomfortable, turning to Orbit. “In normal cases, yes.”

Eren quieted his breathing, listening intensely. What the hell was Orbit doing? This was bad. He kept his eyes on the hero, trying desperately to communicate with his eyes just how bad of an idea this was. Eren did not want Orbit involved in this messy tangle with the PRT, because it would be another thread Eren would have to keep careful tally on. Besides, the PRT would be more on edge themselves, resulting in a shitload of shit for Eren in turn. Orbit, however, didn’t spare Eren a glance.

Orbit, having no way of showing expression, gradually tilted his head instead, not completely unlike an actual owl. “This seems like a normal case to me. The Protectorate does plenty of community hours as is, so I’ll take him on for a few weeks in that case.”

Eren let those words rumble around in his head for a bit, before realizing their importance. Oh shit! Oh fuck could this backfire on him. 

“Are you serious?” Shadis asked slowly in turn, not completely believing his ears probably. Eren could relate, feeling anxiety morphing into a clawed monster pounding his insides.

“I am. According to your own rules, that would be a perfectly suitable approach of action. I have a few hours to spare and would not mind taking in Eren on the days I’m available. How does that sound to Mr. and Mrs Jaeger?”

Mom and dad looked quite disbelieving themselves. They must have known who Orbit was. Who didn’t? Eren was still staring at the hero, wondering why the man had gone out of his way to do this. It didn’t make sense. It also didn’t make sense why Orbit was here at all either, but he must’ve heard something prior to Eren’s arrival. The hero frankly seemed to have his fingers in so many pies that Eren shouldn’t be surprised. He was, however, wary.

It was Grisha who answered. “Of— Of course! We would appreciate that very much. Thank you.”

Orbit then turned to Shadis, issuing a new challenge, one which made Eren squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Conceal, don’t fucking feel. Show nothing. You can deal with this later.

Shadis must have known that the war was already lost in front of an audience. He wasn’t one to waste time. “You have my approval,” the director relented begrudgingly. He flicked a glance toward his parents. “And I want to go over a few details with you two in my office, right away.”

A few officers had already begun filing out of the room at the moment of approval, considering the issue solved.

Eren was left with nothing but confusion. Orbit’s involvement, his parents' presence, the smooth yield of the PRT. There were too many parameters for this to have gone this well. There had to be something more to all this, some kind of last minute hammer to be dropped, But Eren seemed to be out of the woods without too much of his freedoms lost, he was only left to ponder over the fact that Orbit now had acquired an official approval to keep meeting him. Eren didn’t know if he was supposed to be relieved, suspicious or worried.

His parents nodded. Eren observed the whole thing with no further ado, feeling pained and spent. He had nothing to say. Even if spending mandatory time with Orbit made him nervous, it was on the rainbows and unicorns side of the spectrum compared to the grisly alternative.

Shadis then turned toward Eren, however, deciding to issue a final blow. “While we have solved things internally according to our own principles, this does not exempt you from being sued by the other student in question due to the nature of the power usage. Keep that in mind.” With that, he turned away, aiming to leave.

And Eren? He grew absolutely fucking stone cold inside.

As the room was emptied by the PRT workers and his parents, Eren could do nothing but simply stare into the wood again, head a vacuum. This hadn’t gone as he’d expected, both good and bad. Mis mom flicked him a worried gaze as she was herded out of the room, but he threw her a thumbs up and a forced smile to soothe. She disappeared around the corner with  a frown, but didn’t force her way back to him.

Then the door closed behind the last officer and it was as if his mask crumbled to dust, he sagged forward with a gasp. Pain and anxiety unfolded into an expressive painting on his face. 

Light steps approached, and Eren knew without looking that Orbit had remained while all others left. Why wouldn’t he? The hero had somehow known about this and came for him. It was reckless, somehow absolutely in accordance with the unbreakable confidence the hero exuded, perhaps so much so that it could be turned into a detriment, Eren realized. He wheezed, gripping into the table with whitened fingers.

“Take off your shirt,” the hero commanded as he crouched down beside Eren, yanking the chair away from the table and toward himself.

“What?!” Eren asked incredulously, wondering if this was suddenly a fever dream of something. Yes, maybe he had completely lost it. The searing feeling on his chest like it was on fire almost made tears spring up in his eyes now that the tight wire on himself that had allowed him control had loosened.

“You’ve been in pain this whole meeting. Leaning over, grabbing at your shirt every so often. Seems to have fooled them, but not me. Now take it off.” Orbit tilted his head in the direction of his torso.

“Wait wait wait,” Eren rushed, hands up and keeping the hero at arm's length. “What the hell was that?” he whispered, thinking back on what had just occurred and what Orbit had accomplished.

“What do you mean?” Orbit tried to push Eren’s hands to the side.

“You know what I mean,” Eren said with gritted teeth, leaning forward a bit again. “What the hell were you thinking, walking in on this. Did you see their faces?”

“I don’t fucking care about them, did you not realize that they were about to break their own rules with what to do about your case?” Orbit sounded angry now. “I should report them for that.”

Eren's hand surged forward, gripping hard into Orbit’s forearm, digging his fingers and nails into the material. The hero didn’t even flinch. “Don’t you dare. You can’t do anything against them, you work for them, the one that would get shit for that would be me. It would all come back to me.” Eren pursed his lips, trying to get his point across. “You’re Orbit, of the Mitras Protectorate Division, but I’m just Eren. Only Eren. Keep that in mind next time you feel enough charity to dig into business that isn’t yours.” It was such a harsh way of telling him to be careful with what he was doing, but Eren was deathly serious about this. Orbit couldn’t destroy what Eren was working towards, even if this had been one point in favor of good faith.

There was a hiss to be heard, like Orbit was expelling air through gritted teeth. His own grip on Eren’s arm tightened somewhat. With a frustrated grunt, the hero once again went back to the original topic, dropping the one Eren was warning him about like a large stone. “Let me see the injury. Take the shirt off.”

Eren exhaled through his nose but moved his hands to the hem of his shirt, complying, intending to take the shirt off like he always did by pulling the hem up and pulling the shirt inside out up over his head. Eren realized immediately that that wasn’t going to fly this time, shift chafing at whatever was on his chest halfway up. Eren gasped, dropping the hem as a few teardrops forced themselves out of his eyes against his wishes, frustration immediately turning into worry. “I can’t… I can’t do it,” he hissed, holding the collar and front away from his chest like before.

Orbit took off his gloves and laid them on the table. “Let me try, hold the shirt away from your chest from the inside,” he urged, moving toward the hem of the shirt with his fingers.

Eren did as he was told, holding the material away from the searing fire. He held his eyes closed, steeling himself.

“Okay,” Orbit mumbled silently, bringing the lower parts of his shirt upwards while stretching the material out from his body, helping Eren get rid of the antagonistic garment until it instead landed in a pile on his lap.

Eren breathed a long exhale of relief, hands hovering above his chest. The pain was still there, but the fabric which had brought out significant pain peaks was gone, making the pain feel more manageable, constant. Still really fucking hurt, though.

“Shit, kid…” Orbit said slowly with an accompanying sympathetic hiss. His hands also hovered over his chest, and Eren looked down.

Two swollen, reddish burns sat on top of his chest, not totally unlike two palm prints. They were blistered to hell and where blisters had popped the skin looked raw. It looked about as painful as it felt and the damp rawness made Eren a bit queasy. Skin was not supposed to look like that.

Orbit slowly brought his gaze from Eren’s chest up to his face. “Just a school fight huh?”

Eren was growing pale. He could feel the blood leaving his face. Almost making him dizzy. Orbit was right, this couldn’t be naturally made. This was one of those things that looked, smelled, probably was parahuman. Jean was…

Eren took a raspy, whimpering breath.

“Did he do this?” Orbit pushed, bending down slightly as Eren leant forward to keep eye contact. “This is at least second degree,” he continued, in a serious tone.

“I don’t know, I don’t know…” Eren rambled, afraid of touching the wounded burns, but also desperate to do something to treat them. He didn’t know what. He was frozen in place, mind flying in several different directions at once. His fingers twitched.

Orbit leant back, watching his panicked form. “Why didn’t you tell them?” he asked, gesturing out toward the room.

“They don’t care,” Eren muttered, hugging his shirt to his stomach. And I… I— shit, I didn’t even know.” About Jean or about the wounds? Same answer really. Fuck it all to hell. Fuck this. Fuck life. The worst human in the world had powers to do this. Eren really was screwed then, and it was an exemplary fact that the world wasn’t fair. 

“They should,” Orbit answered, but didn’t argue. The hero looked at the burns again. The burns that Jean had somehow made. “We have to treat those. Come with me.” Orbit stood up.

Eren shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to leave the room.”

Orbit looked at the door. His next words sounded annoyed. “They don’t own you, you know that right?” Eren was not so sure. “I don’t care what they think, and if they try something, put the blame on me. Come.”

Eren stood up shakily, feeling weak from pain and emotions. “Where are we going?”

“The Protectorate building is connected to this building. We have an infirmary on the lower floors.” Orbit walked toward the entrance to the room and Eren hesitantly followed.

“The Protectorate building?” Eren questioned weakly. “I don’t think I should…”

“It’s out of the way, you’re not going to meet a soul. The infirmary workers there work for us. Would you rather go there or let the PRT take a look at you?”

That sounded suspiciously manipulation-like, but well, he wasn’t wrong, per se.

“Okay,” Eren said quietly. He didn’t have much fight in his bones right now, pretty much open to suggestion. In the end, he ended up following the leader of the Protectorate toward what should pretty much be considered enemy territory.

Chapter Text

Erwin Smith was an intimidating man.

He wasn’t intimidating in the scary or heart thumping way, no, it appeared in the way he drew respect to him like moths to a bonfire. Was he aware of it? Did he know of the gazes people threw in his wake? The admiration, the awed intimidation that permeated people’s faces as he walked past? They way their torsos subconsciously turned in his direction to just get that tiny bit of a better glance, a second look? 

Then again, the metallic, coppery odor that followed the man must have a hand in that too.

Jean could feel it even now, sitting across the man’s desk in his office. Tangy iron smell permeated the space and Jean almost imagined it as a cloud that surrounded the man, both keeping people away and curiously drawing them in. He wondered what the public would think if they really knew about the roots of his power. They saw the grandiose aftereffects, but not the cause behind it. Not that they would really be able to figure it out, either. Would they hail the man as one of the city’s most acclaimed protectors if they knew? Perhaps, perhaps not. He wondered if that was why the Protectorate had two co-leaders. One with all sharp edges and the personality of a thorn (yet quite the prototypical heroic power), and one with a grandiose personality that would probably rank quite high up there on the list of heroes with villainous powers (that was, if the truth was out there).

 Jean was never quite able to relax during biologic labs at school after witnessing all that.

Still, this was the man he was supposed to surpass.

“The only way to move up in the world is to be seen, to be recognized. You want to be the best, right Jean? That’s right. Remember who helped you get these powers.”

That was right. He had to be the best. It was his legacy.

Erwin Smith continued to observe him, probably trying to manipulate him into explaining himself. Jean had to do nothing of the sort. He met the gaze with his head high, only pausing intermittently to scrutinize the various trinkets in the office. He was surprised by so much memorabilia of Vancouver, not that it should be a surprise, but it was more in-your-face about the hero’s background than Jean was used to by people such as this man. Jean was used to weaknesses being hidden, not worn like armor. It added to the allure of the people’s savior. He traced the ‘C’ of the Vancouver Canucks jersey, a defunct team nowadays, as well as pictures of city landscapes.

Vancouver. The city that had been destroyed by the Endbringers. Everyone who did enough research on Anthem knew that the hero was tied to that place, having witnessed the death of a city. Jean was not someone to show it, but even he did feel an inch of pity about that. Jean was not afraid of much, but the possibility of an Endbringer showing up in Mitras or a nearby location made hairs stand on edge over his body. He’d have to fight. And of course, he would. But a place did not escape unacathed from an Endbringer attack. It could survive, some cities were proof of that, but there was also the possibility of being wiped off the map like Vancouver.

The times between attacks were quiet. Lulls of a gigantic scale. There was also the question of which one of them you would get. Also, Jean would graduate next spring. By that time, he was expected to be able to contribute his fair share in an Endbringer attack. The creatures were an enigma to him, like they probably were to the whole of society. What were they, really? Creatures so large to overlook a building with power unimaginable until you see it for yourself, at least that was how the saying went. Where they failed parahumans? Were they aliens? Higher beings decided to rain down hell on them all?

To Jean, they had enough power to bring heroes and villains to the same side in battle. In the face of such a treat, it really was all that mattered.

Suddenly, being in the presence of items that held memories of things that were nothing more than dust made him uncomfortable. Wasn’t it better to move on, forget the horrors that memories of the coastal city must bring? The trinkets in here could be nothing more than painful visuals. Nothing would bring the coastal city back, evacuated Vancouverites spread throughout Canada and the States like scattered autumn leaves. 

The faint thud of a pen being brought down on the table brought him back to the present, eyes snapping from the shelves to the Vancouverite in front of him.

“Jean. How has school been going?” The deep voice penetrated the silence like a blunt knife, an obvious switch of tactics. Jean was not going to have it.

“Cut the crap. We both know why I’m here. Let’s just get it over with.” He’d been sent straight here by the principal with a disappointed expression. Well, sorry, they couldn’t all be golden students like fucking Falco. Some of them actually wanted something interesting happening in their lives.

Jean narrowed his eyes. Eren Jaeger. Mute-but-totally-not bastard that looked down on anything and everything he looked at with that condescending silence. It made Jean so angry. It was satisfying to get a reaction out of him, making sure that he knew that Jean could see right through all the crap.

The bastard thought himself better than them, Jean knew it. He could see it in the bastard’s eyes. 

That wasn’t a possibility. Jean had to be better. He had to be better. No… Everyone else had to be lesser. It was the only thing that mattered in this hell of a mad world. 

But now… Things changed. The Jaeger bastard was a parahuman. Jean was one hundred percent sure of that, which meant that the guy actually was a threat. He’d been nothing more than a coffee speck on the floor before, but he had turned into a real obstacle now, suddenly. The fly on the wall had sprouted teeth in the size of a T-rex, claws casting long shadows in the room. It wasn’t even a lame power, regrettably speaking. Jean had to work even harder than before. 

“A wimp and a coward cannot be among the best. What do you want to be, son? A wimp or a sword?”

Jean was a sword. He would get the approval of the masses.

“Very well then.” Erwin Smith spared a look at his phone, lying beside him on the desk. A few moments passed by while the man read whatever had blinked to life on the screen. No doubt that he already knew everything that had transpired, or close to it. Anything less would be uncharacteristic for the hero. Jean wouldn’t have been brought in otherwise. The esteemed hero didn’t even look at Jean as he spoke his next words, like the sentence had no substance at all. But Jean knew better. “You used your power in a fight at school with another student.”

Jean leant back, still having his arms crossed. That was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? It irked Jean, to have been provoked so far to not even think about using the energy that flowed through his veins, but the little bastard had done the exact same thing, hadn’t he? In the end though, Jean had gotten the last word, so he couldn’t regret his actions. There was only one spot at the top and he wasn’t about to let Jaeger have it.

“Nothing to say?” Smith remarked, raising a lone eyebrow, turning from the phone toward the boy. Jean couldn’t help but follow the action with his gaze. 

“Not really,” Jean said in a bored tone. He had no reason to lie here, he just really couldn’t be bothered about the situation. He expected to have the book thrown at him, so honest to God, he really just wanted Smith to shuck the damn thing right now so he could continue going about his day. It wouldn’t be the first time his actions saw consequences (and probably not the last), but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Jean accepted that. 

Smith looked displeased, yet another one of his great feats that could affect a room. It was an expression on one of the few people that actually had an effect on Jean. Not that the young cape would do anything about it, Jean had his reasons and his motivations (welded in place by the way, not even Smith was going to move those), and so he resigned himself to simply taking it. It was uncomfortable, the silence dragging on and urging him to speak, but Jean had a strong sense of will. He met those piercing eyes across the desk with dignity.

Jean recognised the moment those eyes switched up tactics yet again.

“We have a strike system in place, and I am sure that you moved past three quite a while ago. We often look the other way because of your enormous potential, but I can’t help but wonder if this environment is doing you any good.” Smith sounded so convinced that Jean couldn’t know if this was a tactic or not. He had a bad feeling about this. “Would it not be better to transfer back to the division of Washington to be closer to your family?”

“No,” Jean immediately said, body growing cold. He had to do this by himself, he had to prove himself to— “No. Damn it. Just give me the community service. I’ll do better.”

Smith observed him for a moment. Jean would never think of the man as his father, but with the real one being in Washington DC, Jean couldn’t help but think that Smith had been the closest thing to someone taking up the mantle of father figure. Jean absolutely hated that fact. He wanted to be equals, not being looked down upon by someone he respected.

“Alright,” Smith declared, just like that, leaning back with folded hands. “Your patrol privileges are revoked for the coming two weeks. With the exception of an emergency, you will not be out in the field. You will be an exemplary student during that time, and you will spend your evenings in the soup kitchen downtown. Of course, your pay will also be docked. Do you understand me on this?”

There was the book he’d been expecting. Not patrolling for two weeks? Might as well be a lifetime. God damnit, he was expected to be with Ackerman during those weeks too. Smith watched on unmovingly as Jean’s shoulders sagged. 

“I understand,” Jean replied begrudgingly. It was going to be an absolutely grumpy evening, wouldn’t it? He swore to God, he might even punch Falco if his underclassman even came close to getting on his nerves today. 

Jean made to rise, but a gesture from Smith made him sit again. 

“In addition… It would be for the best that you don’t talk about this other student’s identity or what you two did. Orders from the PRT. We will talk about your actions more at length tomorrow.” There was a hint of a sigh from the man.

Jean frowned. “Okay…” he said carefully, once again rising from the chair he’d been sitting at. He stood up, looking down on the Protectorate hero, who had started scribbling on some papers. An effective dismissal, if Jean had ever seen one. When he wasn’t stopped, Jean rounded the chair and crossed the room to let himself out. The door was soundless as it opened and closed.

Jean leant back against the door, closing his eyes. His nose was finally cleared of that metallic smell, but it was only made known once he was out of its radius. The coppery smell had a habit of making a home in one's sinuses, unknowingly swirling there as his nose became accustomed to the scent, forgetting it was ever there at all. Until its absence was noticeable, that was.

Jean’s lungs expanded with a large breath as he pushed away from the door and began walking down the hallway, fists clenched. The shoes of a brown-haired boy immediately fell into step with his own.

“There you are! You were in there for so long that I was beginning to worry.”

Jean put his hands in his pockets, turning his head toward his friend and teammate. “Marco. What the hell are you doing here? Pretty sure it’s still school hours.”

Marco smiled sheepishly. “Yeah well. I got a cryptic message from Reiner that said ‘oooh guess which sunshining bastard got himself into trouble again!’” Marco’s voice went up a few tones with the impression along with gesturing hands, “so I felt like I had to come.”

Jean frowned and sent Marco a side eye, “How did you know it was me?”

The eyes of previous Mitras heroes passed them on their way past the picture frames on the walls. Jean could name them all at this point. Echo Tactics. Plasma Boy. Amethyst. Foxwarden. And on, and on. Heroes who had all left a legacy in this city, falling from the lips of its people with reverence.

“The nickname, for one. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of a dick.”

Jean snorted. “Yeah alright.” They turned down the stairs to make their way toward the common rooms.

Marco smiled discreetly. “Now then, what the hell did you do?”

Jean shook his head, at a loss. No matter what, he had to warn him. Marco could keep his mouth shut with a secret.

“You’re not going to believe what I witnessed today.”

Chapter Text

Eren moved slowly, keeping a healthy distance between him and Orbit. He could never be too careful inside these walls. His shirt was being held protectively against his stomach, feeling exposed. The discomfort was not strong enough to put on his shirt again seeing as his singed chest was finally getting some relief from being rubbed by the cotton material.

Admittedly, Eren was staring a hole into Orbit’s back. Today had made him wary of the hero, on some new level he hadn’t been before. Eren was pretty good at reading people and his own analysis on Orbit was that the guy oozed confidence, but more of the sort that would be attractive to the public, lulling them into a feeling of safety. Hell, Eren had fallen for it. The hero had things under control. But if today had shown anything, it was that Orbit had enough confidence and arrogance to strut into a PRT meeting where he was, reading between the lines, not welcome and not only that; staring the Director in the face and making demands.

Eren couldn’t really decide if Orbit had more influence than he let on, was incredibly foolish (read: rash), or simply knew what he was doing to the point of being several steps in front of Eren himself. It scared Eren to admit that he couldn’t figure out the answer, or if all three were applicable to the same case. 

It felt like he was suddenly walking on glass shards, shards that had perhaps been there the whole time but only noticeable when his feet were beginning to show signs of bloody cuts. Orbit, on some existential level, was not completely sold on the PRT. Otherwise the hero would not have hesitated to take their side today. But he didn’t. In fact, Orbit had lessened Eren’s sentence to that of doing community service with him. In the grand scale of Eren’s life, that was nothing.  

Orbit was a mystery to Eren. The man had gone out of his way to… what? Help him? Out of the goodness of his heart? The hero gained nothing from this except another headache, Eren was sure.

Also, with that little display in the meeting room, Orbit must be closer than ever to figure out his situation. Actually, now that Eren thought about it, it wasn’t a lot to be left unsaid. Still, this could all be a ruse, something that the PRT had set their hero up to in order to monitor Eren. God, he couldn’t put it past them, could he? It was something they would do. Uh huh. Yeah. All the heroes wore masks, who knew their agendas? Puppets. The heroes weren’t gods; they were ordinary people who had gotten the power of the gods. They were not on some moral high ground where they knew right from wrong, it was the PRT who had given them a playground to operate on.

Eren felt trapped suddenly, being all alone with the hero. He was feeling much safer when out in the wild and encountering the man. For one, there was the eye of the public. But also the fact that Eren could make a run for it whenever he wanted. Eren eyed the window he passed. In a place like this, Orbit would catch up to him in seconds. He was swimming among sharks, wasn’t he? He had made the likeness several times before. The problem was that Eren didn’t know whether it was Orbit or the PRT who was the great white.

The nervous air was awkward, none of that companionable ambience of their previous encounters. Honestly, most of that probably radiated from Eren himself. 

The hallway opened up to an entryway with a staircase that in itself led up to another hallway, this one glazed. Both walls, floor and ceiling were made of glass, giving Eren an uncomfortable close look at the Protectorate building rising up toward the blue sky like a man-made mushroom. It rose above the head PRT building they were in like an imposing, looming front, not unlike the two organizations' real relationship. People didn’t think of the PRT when thinking about the heroes, they thought about the Protectorate, and these structures mirrored that. The PRT kept to the shadows, doing all the important stuff out of sight.

Eren had often gazed at this towering mushroom, hoping that he would sometime in the future get the chance to throw a stone at the glass monstrosity, shatter its perfect and irritating illusion. Yet here he was, about to walk peacefully in there with no fight whatsoever, potentially into his own doom.

Wait a fucking second, that was not Eren’s thing.

Before walking into the overarching glass hallway that would take him over the street and into the damned building, Eren’s feet stopped. He looked down on the little strip that signaled the border into enemy territory. Just a few more millimeters and he would share a building with hideously powerful people, individuals who were made to keep someone like him down. They were celebrities, superstars. But also very, very dangerous to Eren. Not to mention, he had a trigger happy PRT at his back, while he was actually going behind their backs, just waiting for them to hear about this so that they could put him down for good. Or wait, did they already know about this? Were they sneaking behind Eren’s back while Eren was sneaking behind their backs? Shit, all of this was so frustrating.

Orbit stopped almost immediately after Eren did, to Eren’s absolute lack of surprise. He knew that the hero must have been painfully aware of the presence at his back, and Orbit didn’t really seem surprised in return either.

A sigh escaped the Protectorate leader. “What are you doing?”

That made Eren go on the defensive immediately. Better to get rid of the weeds instantly, right? “This is a trap or something, isn’t it?” Careful, slow words. Eren’s wariness coming to a head.

Orbit turned around with that, coattails billowing, crossing his arms. Eren had the sense that the man was also narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This, all this,” Eren gestured around himself, toward Orbit, toward the Protectorate-fucking-mushroom above. “This is some kind of scam to get rid of me or make me trip up, make me do a mistake. You appearing today, or any other time for that matter. The PRT people are acting weird and nothing is making any sense. I’m just saying, I see through it, through you all. So you can stop, go back to your team or whatever and tell them that the mission is a bust or however the hell you handle that stuff.”

Dear fucking lord was he sweating, he hoped it didn’t show. Eren was scared shitless. The world wasn’t making any sense to him right now, something that made him want to lash out. Change was bad. Change was so fucking bad, and it was making him panicking inside. How had he not realized? He needed to get the upper hand before they had the chance to snatch the rug from underneath him. 

“I can tell you that you don’t know crap,” Orbit said sharply, disbelieving, starting to walk back toward Eren. There was that confidence again.

And Eren didn’t have time to find an answer in his mind, because he was suddenly very preoccupied with moving back to keep the distance between them. He had knowledge about how fast the hero could be. He almost tripped down the stairs in his haste to abort mission, hands finding the railing with hands white as sheets from the tension.

This made Orbit stop in his tracks, like he was figuring something out. His movements turned noticeably slow, palms rotating toward Eren. “Are you afraid of me?” He sounded like he could barely believe his own ears.

“I don’t know,” Eren answered quickly, truthfully. Orbit was a mess of contradictions to him at the moment, but the wariness spanned months. Sure, the hero seemed kind when they met on the rooftop and all, but he had all but proved today that he was willing to purposely poke the volatile bee’s nest above Eren that the boy was hiding from. The ugly self-preservation inside Eren did not like that, not one bit. Eren was not here to be caught in a trap or get caught in the middle of some personal horn locking that Orbit was on the path on. 

Silence stretched between them for a few seconds and like many times in his life, Eren got the incredibly strong urge to just make a run for it. He had called the city safe just a couple of days before, but the truth was that Eren barely knew the meaning of the word. He always had to have one one eye over his shoulder, aware of what was going on, just in case. Just in case.

Orbit shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Kid…” he started, but the next part of that seemed to trail off into the air. He was treating Eren like a scared animal. The hero’s head turned to the side for a moment, before coming back to focus in Eren’s direction, perhaps to try again. The continuation was, however, short. “Why?”

“I don’t think our trust extends this far for us to have this conversation,” Eren silently said, gathering himself. “I don’t think we're near there yet.” It was a bit of an intentional slap in the face, an obvious callback to their previous conversations of Orbit’s identity. To Eren, the resistance was incredibly satisfying. It brought the hypocrisy of Orbit’s actions into broad daylight, how much Eren had to give, give, give while not getting the opportunity to ever take.

As the silence returned, it whispered to Eren that Orbit had recognised the callout for what it was. Eren didn’t know if Orbit was a backstabber or if this was genuine, but on some level he hoped that this was real and would clear things up.

Eren was tired.

He was tired of always being on guard. His surroundings, the bullies, his power, the PRT people. He lived with fright and wariness like a constant billowing cape that followed him through his everyday life.

Eren didn’t feel an inch of regret as Orbit stilled, the only visible sign that the words had impacted him.

“I’m going to approach, but it’s simply for the sake of privacy,” the hero mumbled. That’s right, there could be eyes and ears everywhere.

Eren didn’t shift as Orbit took a few steps toward him, hands in pockets on his white coat. The young cape forced himself to not react, not show that he was uncertain, or that he was preparing to throw his best impression of a punch if he saw some suspicious movement. His whole body felt tense, something that strained on his burns. His fist clenched around the shirt in his hands. He didn’t look the owl in its face, because that would be too personal. Instead, he stared Orbit in the chest, trailing all the details of his costume that the curious part of his mind sorted into memory. With Eren standing a few steps down, the sight was right in line with his eyes. The hero stood above him like the gods the public always spoke of them as.

“You’re right. Trust goes both ways, and I guess we have quite a lot to work on in that department.” The hero looked too relaxed, a contrast to Eren’s insides. “Still, seeing as we’ll have to face each other for a couple of weeks here on out, you’ll have to trust that I don’t have any ill intent in mind, nor am I participating in some sort of overarching agenda that you’ve built up in your head. I’m here of my own accord, my actions are my own.”

Not good enough, and Orbit seemed to realize it, because Eren was frowning.

“And… I’m worried.” There was the uncomfortable tone that Eren had been waiting for out of the hero’s mouth. The hero wasn’t good with feelings, that much was obvious, but discomfort spoke of truth. 

Eren rewarded the effort by leaving Orbit’s chest and instead forcing his eyes to meet that of the mask. Was he implying that he was worried about Eren? What reason would he have for being so? It was enough for the youngster to ask exactly that. “Why are you worried?”

This seemed to be a bit too personal, because Orbit looked away and turned around, looking up at the building that had started this. “I’m a hero, am I not?” Orbit muttered, and Eren found the words to be more uncertain than he would’ve expected from the man. “Saving people is what I do, even if it is from themselves.” With that, the hero started walking into the glazed hallway.

What did that even mean? Eren stared after the hero in disbelief. And furthermore, was that a peek behind the mask just now?

Orbit looked over his shoulder. “I promise that there aren't any beartarps around the corner out to get you. Now are you coming or not?”

Mhm, back to Mr. Confident. The hero was almost as bad as Eren with the whole feelings-thing, or perhaps the other way around. And yet, the honesty he had been offered just seconds before prompted his legs to move forward uncertainingly, following Orbit into the corridor on his way to the Protectorate building.

Orbit’s motives were a bit hard to grasp, not really possible to simply boil down to ‘worry’, but if Eren had to lean one way or the other, then yes, he did choose Orbit. Perhaps this tiny trust was enough for him to step foot where he promised himself to never walk. He turned that line of thinking on its head. If he ever were to find himself in this building unwillingly, it would be good to know at least a little of the layout.

The new plan was one of the very few things that made him refrain from turning tail.

“I don’t like what you did today.” The truth slipped out of his mouth like slippery slime. Eren's jaw closed with a muted clack. Fuck.

“The part where I offered you a better alternative or the part where I kept the PRT off your back?”

The hero sounded so cold suddenly, like a crisp breeze that was just a little bit too chilly for the clothes you’re wearing. He didn’t even give Eren the courtesy of turning around or looking over his shoulder..

“That’s not what I meant,” Eren said with a frustrated grunt, deciding to just go with it, the discussion that he subconsciously committed to. “You were playing with fire, careless of whoever would get burnt in the process of your little game.”

This time Orbit ripped around, making Eren flinch, pointing an index finger at the teenager’s chest.

“You think of this as a game? They’re talking about you like a circus animal in there who didn’t balance on the fucking ball like he was supposed to. Even more fucked up, you don’t even act like it’s out of the ordinary. What was I supposed to do, just let it go?”

Eren slapped the offending hand away, nose scrunching up. “Well you weren’t supposed to waltz in there and shit on the entire top brass, how did you think that would fly? They’re going to be even more overbearing and suspicious now that you’ve involved yourself.”

Orbit straightened, using those few centimeters of height he had over Eren. “Someone has to do something, isn’t that right? If I have termites in my own house, there’s no way but to burn the infested parts away from the foundation up. But I need to know which parts are a lost cause first.”

Warning bells. That was the sound in Eren’s head right now. Red lights flashing. “I don’t need your help,” he breathed, close to a whisper. Lie. But a necessary one at this moment. “I don’t need you to provoke the PRT in front of my face. I don’t need saving. I definitely don’t need you to pick a fight with the PRT on their own turf. You can’t change their influence on my life like this.”

Then Orbit said the worst thing he could have answered, at least in Eren’s mind. 

“Watch me.”

It was like his brain short circuited, because that was a threat, definitely. It wasn’t a direct threat to Eren, but it was one that would engulf him in crossfire if he wasn’t careful. It seemed like both of them had secrets that came to light today.

“Oh my god. You’re an idiot,” Eren mumbled to himself in disbelief and realization, not caring to keep it low. His fingers went up to massage his temples. Somehow that was worse than all previous three options.

Orbit snorted. “You’re acting like I will walk into that room next time with guns ablaze. Calm yourself. I needed to know more, and now they know that they can’t do whatever shady stuff they want behind our backs. I needed to see it for myself.”

“So what, this is all a ruse?” Eren wasn’t sure he understood the complete picture, or even had it in his views. So Orbit was suspicious of his treatment, and needed to stir the pot a little to see the discordance for himself? Eren looked up at the hero with a searching gaze.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that. Still, I don’t know why they do those things with you.” Orbit started walking again, Eren following tight on his heels.

“They’re frightened.”

“They’re frightened of a lot of things in this world, like they should be. Still, they’re handsy. Not breaking their rules per se, but almost stretching them to the point of bursting.” 

Eren mulled those words over. Orbit didn’t know everything, of course. They probably have been breaking their rules in the past. Did the hero think that he’d done something in the part to warrant this attention from the PRT? Because he’d been monitored since the age of 10. Eren had been absolved of his crimes, yet treated like he wasn’t. This was just one meeting of many that Orbit witnessed, and somehow the hero thought that he’d gotten a nice view on the problem. Not.

Eren kept his mouth shut, for the time being. He did not want to add fuel to the fire, especially not now when Orbit had a flamethrower pointed at those… termites. Did he get this plan because of Eren, or was Eren just a stepping block in getting the snowball rolling of an already moving agenda? Because to Eren, Orbit did have an agenda. It just wasn’t focused on himself. 

Then, how did Eren fit into all this?

Was this a nice bonus, getting the big bullying brass off a kid’s back in the process? It may very well be so. Orbit was a queen on a chessboard, able to claim free movement on the playing field, much like his Mover status in real life. Had Eren been played this whole time? 

He shook his head as they moved down a couple of stairs, officially inside the evil mushroom.

They had a difference of opinion, certainly. Orbit was looking for a few bad eggs, while Eren thought the entire organization rotten to the core.

Orbit gave him a glance after a while, perhaps wondering why the sudden silent treatment. Eren didn’t mean any offense by it, he just had a lot to think about, perplexed about the situation and the few ill-fitting puzzle pieces it was made out of.

So Orbit was worried about the few pieces of information about the relationship between him and the PRT that had sprung to light, yet he used the excuse of ‘termites’ in the PRT for his reason to involve himself in their affairs.

It was dangerous. Orbit was technically going against superiors, those above him in the chomping chain. At least on paper, that was. On a technicality they could simply order him to stand down, but part of Eren thought that Orbit wouldn’t be a guy that took kindly to that. Going by the way Shadis and his minions did jack shit to stop the hero today, he had a feeling they felt the same way. That, or blackmailing.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, Orbit leading them to where they needed to go. Like the hero said, the infirmary wasn’t far off at all so Eren’s mental layout of the Protectorate Tower remained limited.

The doctor was able to see them immediately so at least there wasn’t any awkward waiting around, to Eren’s immediate relief. 

He sat on the examination table quietly as the doctor went over his injuries with no questions as to how they got there, probably at the request of the hero who was leaning against the wall in the corner, watching the process.

The doctor hummed. “The burns are second degree and could leave some scarring. I’ll put a gel on them to help with cooling, healing and prevent infection, as well as dress it with antimicrobial dressings. The wound on your cheek will require a stitch or two. Other than that, your bruises should go down in the next few days.”

Eren nodded numbly with the information, trusting the doctor’s judgment.

He was silent as the man anesthetized the area of the wound with a local injection. It didn’t hurt at all when three stitches closed the edges together. It did hurt a little bit when the burns on his chest were slathered with the gel, Eren housing a grimage the entire time, but it successfully started to calm the stinging.

Orbit turned his head in Eren’s direction as the doctor walked out of the room to take care of some other things while the gel did its work on Eren’s chest.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a fight at school?”

“No,” Eren muttered in response, a bit bitterly. Sometimes he instigated it after some verbal taunting, but sometimes guys at school simply started with it. Eren didn’t have much choice those times. But he didn’t go and pick fights for nothing. Only when people deserved it.

“And it isn’t the first time you’ve come out of it looking like that? Minus the burns, of course.” Orbit had his arms crossed.

“...No,” Eren revealed begrudgingly, a few drops of shame coating his voice. He wasn’t the best fighter, so…

“Your mom said something about you coming home with bruises. Bullies?” Orbit seemed to become more invested in the conversation while Eren felt himself becoming smaller, embarrassment rearing its ugly head inside his stomach. Maybe Orbit wasn’t exactly the idiot like he had accused him of.

“Sometimes,” Eren said in honesty. “But I can handle it. It’s senior year anyway,” he added in a mutter. Three quarters of a year. Eren had dealt with it for much longer than that. In the grand scheme of things, three quarters was a drop in the ocean.

Orbit hummed, not exactly sounding happy.

Eren kept his eyes on Orbit’s boots. “What exactly are you meaning with community service? Am I going to have to meet children or something?” He was a bit nervous about community service. It was something unknown, something he didn’t have control over. It made him uncomfortable.

“Right, that…” Orbit trailed off, looking to the ceiling as if he could see its secrets. “I’m going to teach you to throw a punch. That’ll teach you how to protect yourself.”

If Eren’s body wasn’t empty of energy, he would have snapped his head up. Instead, he raised his gaze to meet the owl mask with a frown. “What?”

“Giving you tools to counter bullies seems like a community service to me. Those little cunts sometimes just have to taste their own medicine.” Orbit tilted his head to the side. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

A spark of excitement lit somewhere deep inside Eren’s heart. “I don’t think you’re completely wrong,” he said slowly, still testing out that this wasn’t Orbit being an ass.

But the hero simply clapped his hands together, seemingly satisfied with the non committal answer. “Good. Seems to me like we have a plan. You don’t need to worry about a thing, I’ll get back to you with the details.”

“Okay…?” Eren said, completely confused. Why did he feel like this was a split-second decision made just now? Alright, new theory: Orbit did not do well with authority figures. 

The teenager had plenty of follow-up questions, but then the doctor arrived again and he closed down those thoughts for the moment. The doctor dressed his chest in bandages with an order to change them once a day and also placed a sterile dressing over his stitched wound. The last thing given to him was a tetanus shot because his vaccination wasn’t up to date to prevent infection from the burns. Eren was tense as the injection was administered, he’d never liked to get one. Mostly because the latest experience he had with needles was that of his Epipens, a thought which made him glance at his bag where the medicine lay hidden in a pocket. His bullies could never know that he had a peanut allergy.

A second thought occurred to him then. Shit, he had forgotten to bring them with him when he first went out in his new suit. Well, he would have to add a pocket for them or something. Dying to a peanut was the most pathetic thing ever, he’d like to prevent it.

After the tetanus shot, he was good to go. After a second reminder of his tasks regarding the injuries for the next few days, Orbit followed him out and the two walked the short walk back to the PRT building. 

A text from his parents told him to meet them at the entrance.

Orbit slowed down, prompting Eren to do the same.”I’ll contact you on where to meet and when. Until then, stay out of trouble.”

Right. Eren nodded with tightened lips.

Orbit didn’t seem amused. “I mean it, kid. You seem to be a trouble magnet, it would do you good to stay put for a while.”

Eren could handle himself, but he had a notion that it would be pointless to argue. “Sure. I’ll see you then,” he said and broke away from their conversation with a wave.

Orbit was left staring after him before turning around and walking back the way he’d come.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Unfortunately, like had already been established before, Eren was not too good at following orders. 

He was currently stitching on an Epipen-pocket on his suit trousers as Armin rummaged around in the room. They were both equally bruised right now, something Eren had been severely reprimanded on by the blond.

“So you think you can trust these guys?” Armin asked as he returned a pen to its proper place in the desk drawer. Always cleaning up Eren’s messes.

“Hm, I don’t know. I don’t even know what their motivations are, all I know is that they allowed me to come with on a wild ride through the city in order to protect me from their problems. They did invite me to come meet them.” Eren tightened the knot to ensure that it could hold.

“I don’t know about this, Eren… It’s five against one on case it goes sideways.”

“I can take five,” Eren muttered as he sliced the thread with a scissor. The room quietened, because they both knew he was right. It just wasn’t the moral way.

“You know what we talked about, that I would keep you back from the ledge? This is me doing that. You should not think that way, Eren.” Armin sounded a bit nervous.

It was enough for Eren to put the trousers down and face his friend. “I don’t mean that carelessly! Only in like, emergency, if I had to fight for my life. I still plan for the outcome to be a friendly thing. Perhaps a you-help-me, I-help-you kind of thing. Besides, I would only tell them to stand still while I run away or something,” Eren mumbled.

Armin studied him momentarily, but then went and sat on the bed with a sigh. “So Orbit told you to be nice and stand put. I shouldn’t be surprised that this is your response to that. Just don’t do anything rash.”

Eren grimaced slightly. “I just don’t like that he got himself entangled in my mess like he did. He has a nerve to then tell me to just… do nothing.”

“No offense Eren, but I take Orbit’s side in this. He saved your butt.”

“You would let any hero save your butt.”

Now it was Armin’s time to grimace. “No need to call me out like that.”

Eren let a little evil laugh out, standing up. He’d sat down long enough that his knees popped with the movement.

“But really though, stay in contact if you’re going out. I trust you, but I don’t trust them. I get why you’re doing it, it’s just…” Armin trailed off with a sigh. “You know what I mean.”

“I will. I’ll also try to get some information on all the Tinker tech popping up in the city. I feel like that would be a goldmine of crimes to stop.” Eren joined Armin on the bed, falling back until his back hit the mattress. Ouch, still bruised.

Armin hummed an affirmative. The boy was worried about him, Eren knew that, but he wouldn’t let anything happen. If Eren was getting into vigilantism he needed contacts, and this would be the first major step. He was ready.

Chapter Text

Karanes was certainly… a neighborhood. 

Now, Eren wasn’t exactly a social butterfly out in the great wide world, but it was astounding what you could get away with eavesdropping on when you were considered the ‘probably-mute guy’. People talked, and when they thought that the information would stay where it was, they talked a lot. Eren already had a mental picture over what kind of place Karanes was. 

Before the Junkyard had come into an exploding existence due to the disaster at the previously okay-ish neighborhood of Yarckel, Karanes had been considered amongst the lowest dumps of Mitras. Now, Karanes was a weird place in-between. It was certainly too grim and questionable for the posh or even the middle-class people to step foot there. In a way it was the area of the lawless, operating outside of a predetermined structure due to resources going everywhere else. However, according to the people that called the Junkyard their home, Karanes wasn’t shitty or unfortunate enough to share the same sentence as themselves.

It was an interesting dynamic. With the Junkyard grabbing all the headlines by the throat in the form of the Junkyard Aces, Karanes kind of fell out of people’s minds. Into the forgotten. Eren hadn’t heard of the Karanes Allies before (granted, with the millions of people in Mitras it was hard to grab everyone’s attention) but if there was one area to operate in the shadows while being able to get away with it, it was in Karanes.

That being said, that included both vigilantism in good faith as well as organized crime and ‘unorganized’ crime. 

One does not walk into Karanes with just any clothes. If you showed any sign of owning more money than was normal for Karanes, you would be jumped within 20 steps inside of the neighborhood. That’s the reason for Eren wearing his shittiest black hoodie along with loose fitting Adidas pants and standard running shoes.

He looked like a thug, which was precisely the look he was going for. The plastic bag he held in a tight grip could have passed for trash to be taken out or something, but in reality it housed his mask and costume. Eren couldn’t just walk into Karanes as his alias, and certainly not when he had promised himself to be careful with the tracker. It was a good thing that plenty of people went to People’s Park. It was one of the few areas in Karanes that drew people outside of its borders, and thus it wouldn’t be weird for Eren to show up on a map there. 

Eren walked warily with hunched shoulders. Other teenagers hanging out watched him out of the corner of their eyes, they were not being subtle, so Eren tried to fit an angry confidence on his face to ward off anyone who had thoughts of trying anything. 

It was a weird thing. Eren knew he shouldn’t be scared, he could probably incapacitate anyone here with his powers alone, but he couldn’t help it. His uneasiness rolled off him in waves and set into the cracks in the street. And yet again, he shouldn’t feel safe here. Nanaba had made a point out of illegally using his powers in the face of hardships. He had to think like a regular person. But it was alright. Orbit had hinted at wanting to teach him how to fight (because no one ever just teaches a punch, right?) so soon he would have more tools than his power at his disposal. It was necessary if he wanted to go into heroics anyway. Anyone who relied too much on their power was done for. At least that was what the forums said. 

Eren didn’t know what to expect today. Honestly, most of him was simply curious. Aside from maybe one of the group, most of the members of the Karanes Allies looked young, around Eren’s age. What had brought them to do what they did? What did they do? Why weren’t people like that with the Wards? Aside from Eren, the Protectorate and the PRT went out of their way to recruit. 

Teenagers could be excused of crimes if they joined up with the Wards as rehabilitation. They paid you for your work, something that was attractive to powered youngsters. You could be famous and still live a normal life as well as getting a perfectly legal outlet to use your powers on people. On paper, it all sounded great. If the organizations weren’t weasels at least, something Eren knew for a fact. For him, it was painful to see the public worship the ground those organizations walked on.

The outward appearance was different from the foul inside.

Eren shook his head to himself as he walked down the wide street toward the large national park in Karanes. It was a cloudy evening after an ordinary Sunday. After a couple of quiet days his burns had kickstarted their healing process. Which meant that they were annoying him to no end, reminding Eren of their presence constantly. He couldn’t decide if they were itching, stinging or plain painful. The sensation was a combination of all those, especially as he moved and the bandages chafed. His bruises were also healing, but they were more of a manageable dull ache or gave away a spike of pain at touch.

Eren’s plan involved changing into his suit at the old metro station beside People’s Park. It was abandoned, a new station having been built on the other side of the park to keep people from having to move too close to the disaster areas of Karanes. It was kind of ironic. Instead of helping Karanes move toward a better tomorrow the city council would rather push it into the shadows of people’s minds. The people suffered and the ones better off looked the other way. A smoldering fire burned in Eren’s chest at the thought.

The inhabitants here looked hollow, defeated. It was a place of in-between. Grey people, grey landscape. Eren sometimes wondered what his life would have looked like, if everything didn’t happen, or if some small things in the timeline changed. If the PRT never got his hand on him, but he still… If his biological father was still dead, would he have ended up here? Or worse yet, the Junkyard? 

He promised himself to hug his mom and dad when he got home from this. They gave him the chance he never deserved.

Thoughts grim, Eren fluidly sneaked into the old metro, down the stairs into the dark, out of sight. Grey grey grey. It was never ending in this district.

Eren’s chosen changing room was a chaotic underground tunnel stinking of urine, years upon years of greasy graffiti layering the mossy walls, of curses and damnation being shouted out silently at the world. Eren half-gagged and vowed to never touch those walls, looking like the embodiment of a fungal infection. In a corner further away, a homeless man lay mumbling to himself, his back towards Eren. 

The space screamed shady. If his life was ever to be taken unexpectedly from him, it was in a place like this. 

The thought of changing in here almost gave Eren an aneurysm. He looked up toward the entrance and then the sordid interior that was an obvious last resort for the desperate. Eren really had no other choice though, he had limited free days and another opportunity presenting itself like this wasn’t a certainty. He scanned the place a third time just to make sure thugs weren't hiding behind his back, ready to stab him in the back. Honestly, his whole body crawled and shuddered watching cockroaches munching on suspicious stains on the walls and floor.

Was it possible for the skin to catch an infection by just being bared to the view of that? Eren absolutely hoped not, as he squeezed out of his clothes lightning quick like he was Sonic the fucking Hedgehog, turned away from the entrance and stripping away the layers of his everyday identity only to replace it with something else in the making.

The sturdy motorcycle mask and the green goggles completed the look, hoodie raised to keep his hair from escaping. 

“Ugh,” Eren mumbled as he stepped on something slimy. 

What he wouldn’t do for heroism.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Finding the abandoned house that he’d been semi-invited to was actually a struggle. Eren circled People’s park two times, mostly in the quiet areas further away from the park visitors where he would expect to find the lair of the Karanes Allies.

There wasn’t even the hint of an abandoned house. All he saw was trees, park benches and even a squirrel. However, the Karanes Allies were nowhere to be found. Only in hindsight did Eren realize that he should have made the group elaborate on the invitation. How embarrassing would that be, not even finding them after all that? Then again, there were parahumans involved, so he should’ve expected tomfoolery.

His time was running out.

Despite that it was actually surprising when during his third circle a house simply appeared from out of nowhere.

Eren didn’t actually see it appear, but he was one hundred percent sure that he had already searched this area twice. It was in the woody areas, surrounded by trees. And it hadn’t been here the previous times.

Eren frowned, deciding to slowly approach. There was no way that this couldn’t be it.

He was only entering the house’s perimeter when the door was thrown open with a bang, hitting the outside of the house walls. A blonde haired boy bounded out of the house and down the few steps of the stairs, eyes fixed on Eren. The boy had wariness and anger radiating out of his body.

Eren himself jumped at the commotion, vaguely registering the white skull mask on the boy’s face before noticing the growing piece of white material on his arm. 

The boy was rushing toward Eren now and Eren could feel a command at the back of his throat, mind setting its sights on saving himself.

Before any words were set free, more people tumbled out of the house as if giving chase.

“Marrow!” a familiar brown-haired boy shouted. Eren searched his memories at the familiar costume and technological-themed mask. Blockaid.

“Who the fuck are you!?” Marrow spat, reaching Eren and grabbing the front of his costume jacket with one hand. The other arm was covered in growing bone, small spikes developing from the cluster at his knuckles, pointing toward Eren. “I saw you sneaking past back and forth, scum!”

The words were now at the tip of Eren’s tongue. He bit it to refrain from opening his mouth and giving himself away. Instead he grabbed the offending arm at his front, putting pressure on it.

“This is the guy, Marrow!” Blockaid reached them both hurriedly, grabbing at the bony arm and steering it away from Eren. He could breathe easier with the spikes away from his throat. “Let him go, brother.”

Marrow swayed back and forth, forcing his eyes away from Eren and toward Blockaid with disbelief. “This is the ride-hitcher?”

Eren didn’t have to be a genius to recognize that this guy had a temper. Had this been a familiar situation Eren would have risen up to the challenge himself, but the fear of being found out took an iron grip around the logic thinking in his brain for once. Take it easy, wait it out. The others seem calmer. Let it calm down.

Eren took a silent breath in and out, slowly. He kept the spikes in his field of vision for safety’s sake.

Kami reached Blockaid’s side after leaving the house, observing the altercation. She didn’t say a word though. She also seemed to hone in on the spikes that thankfully was being steered away from Eren’s more vulnerable parts.

Eren was still struggling to picture that this was Marrow, the large skeletal creature that he’d ridden weeks prior. The white material that he immediately pinpointed as bone gave it away. The way the bone appeared from out of his skin kept Eren’s attention and he couldn’t look away from the grisly sight. He’d never been so close to a Changer before, only seen Chad Hatter from a distance while dazed.

“You don’t remember him?” Blockaid questioned, his grip on Marrow loosening. He sounded frightened to Eren’s ears.

Marrow released Eren’s front with a huff. Suddenly, the skull-masked cape also seemed unnerved. “Whatever. The haze must’ve taken my concentration away.”

Eren was left as if forgotten, as Blockaid turned toward his teammate. “You don’t remember what he looked like at all? We’ve agreed, if it gets to the point where your surroundings become a blur, you need to tell us immediately. This power will permanently damage you one day if you push past its limits.”

Marrow gritted his teeth with a tch, whirling around and leaving Eren and Blockaid behind without responding. On the way back the bone on his arm started smoking. 

Marrow hissed and breathed heavily.

Kami looked at Blockaid, who returned her gaze with his own, pleading one.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said, following the blond man.

Blockaid sighed, returning tired eyes to Eren.

With the encounter and tension breaking up, Eren could see the remaining members, Garnish and Spew, making their way down the stairs to join them. Kami and Marrow kept to the side, Kami patting the back of the skull-masked.

“You came,” Blockaid said just as Spew strutted up beside him.

“I came,” Eren returned, adjusting his front.

Blockaid followed the action with his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he apologized, even though he’d been the peacekeeper in the encounter.

“Son of a bitch!” Marrow hissed from where he stood, hunched forward and clutching his boned arm, the material looking like it was in a dissolving state.

“No worries, I get it, but uh… Is he alright?” Eren questioned, flickering glances at the pained cape that had just been threatening him.

“Yeah,” Spew answered as Blockaid looked back with worry in his eyes. “He’s powerful, but his power takes a toll. It grows from inside.”

Eren thinks about that for a second, then grimaces. Changers were a different breed altogether.

“No-name!” Garnish greeted as the last one to join the group. “Have you decided on a name yet or are we just supposed to call you the hitchhiker among ourselves?”

Right, the name! Shit, so much had happened that he and Armin hadn’t paid a thought to it.

“Uh, no, actually. Can we just go with E until I can decide on something better?” It was a split-second request, something he’d been going by in his mission with the Protectorate.

“Sure thing,” Garnish accepts with a smile, lightening up the mood.

“We weren’t sure you’d actually show up. It’s been so long since downtown, you know,” Spew said, putting a hand on her hip. 

She sounded so young.

Eren gave her a sheepish smile. “I always planned to. But I wanted to wait for things to die down and all. Besides, I almost missed this place altogether,” Eren returned, gesturing toward the house.

“That would be my fault, oops. Sorry about that, if I would’ve known you were coming I would have left an opening,” Garnish added, putting a guilty hand up with a lazy smile.

“Oh right, the illusions. Well, you had me fooled,” Eren admitted, shifting his weight back and forth.

They all looked at each other for a second, Marrows grunts filling the space.

“Well, I guess I want to thank you again for helping out downtown. And ah, sorry for dragging you into our mess. Despite that, I don’t reckon you’re only here to say hi, are you?” Blockaid put a hand out toward Eren.

Eren took the hand and shook it, nodding his head. “I guess I’m not. You did mention that I was welcome for further action. And… I’ve heard about Tinker tech floating up in the backwaters.”

Blockaid’s expression that could be seen around the mask immediately dropped. 

“Garnish and Spew, can you take Marrow into the house?” Kami requested, holding onto Marrow’s arm and looking right at them.

“Sure,” Spew said slowly, sparing Blockaid and Eren a last gaze before moving away with Garnish.

Kami instead took their place beside Blockaid. Eren guessed that these two could be seen as the leaders of the group. The three others moved toward the house per Kami’s request.

“You’re not wrong,” Blockaid finally answered, crossing his arms. “We’ve been encountering more and more specialized equipment and weapons that have to have come from elsewhere, used by non-Tinkers. In the beginning we saw it from time to time, no more so than usual. But in the past few months, the increase has been staggering. Have you been experiencing it yourself?”

Eren tightened his mouth before answering. “I’m new to the game, so I haven’t really seen the underbelly too much, honestly. But word of mouth, the few hints on social media and outlets, it’s hard not to figure something is up.”

“It’s a fucking armsrace, is what it is. We’ve two Tinkers in our lot and even we have had unexpected guests on our doorsteps a few times,” Kami continued. Her words were aggressive, yet her persona remained calm.

“That’s part of the reason I’m here,” Eren admitted. “I need to see where the problem festers, keep the tech from bleeding out into everyday society. I need to be useful, while I’m like this.”

He flexed his fingers, those veins where power lay hidden, flowing throughout his body. 

“Those are large words,” Blockaid commented. “And a big undertaking.”

Eren was forgetting himself. In reality, he didn’t know if his views aligned with those of the Karanes Allies. “And you guys? You don’t really seem on the same page as the tech-smugglers.”

Kami put her gloved hands in her pockets. “It depends on the goal of it all. If you’ve been to Karanes, you’ve no doubt seen the state of it. Children and elders walk those streets in the middle of a war. The media won’t report it, but innocents keep getting caught in the crossfire, and the heroes won’t do a thing. But we do. This is our home. In essence, we fight those who make Karanes a worse place than it already is, by whatever means necessary. Parahuman or not. The Tinker-tech is just a new entrant in a long list of things we have to deal with, but it is growing larger by the minute.”

Eren listened intently. “I can respect that. And I have heard that the tech is becoming a larger problem than initially realized, and can do large damage in the wrong set of hands. If you let me, I’d like to help. Or you know, be taught how to help.”

Kami and Blockaid looked at each other briefly while Eren idly stood by.

Blockaid turned toward him again, the corner of his mouth twisting in a thoughtful expression. “I need to ask you a question first, because the bastards use all kinds of tactics to recruit… You’re not with the PRT, are you?”

Eren could feel his face scrunch up like someone had shoved a lemon or three into his mouth. “No,” he clipped.

Blockaid held up his hands, apologetically. “Woah there. No ill feelings, I just need to make sure.”

“No, sorry. It’s just — we aren’t fans of each other. This would be proof of that,” Eren replied and housed up his pantleg to reveal the ankle monitor.

Blockaid whistled and immediately went down on his knees to more closely observe the object. “Oh, no kidding. This PRT issued?”

“Straight from the source, unfortunately.”

“What did you do to deserve that?” Kami asked, leaning forward slightly, fox mask coming closer.

Eren shrugged, mouth straightening into a line. “Exist?”

The seriousness of the answer seemed to fly by Blockaid, who huffed a few laughs. “I guess. I’ve seen them trying to recruit others, but not put ankle monitors on them. Tried to approach Kami apparently before we met. Does this feed them your location?”

“Mhm, yeah, but me being in public places shouldn’t be a problem. I guess that would put a bit of a wedge in me joining you,” Eren replied slowly, actually coming to a realization that it would be a problem. “You’re not a fan of them?” he continues, frowning and thoughts floating elsewhere.

Kami shook her head. “I was non-committal then and have since then tried to stay out of their radius. Doing the things we do, we wouldn’t be able to do with them. I get why kids these days take their deals, but we have a mission to do. I don’t have the time to play nice and do signings or press conferences.”

“Sounds like good logic, to me,” Eren responds.

Blockaid continues to fiddle with Eren’s ankle monitor, making a few sounds as he thinks.

“I think, if you’d trust me with it, I can mess with this thing to get around the monitoring.” Blockaid rose to his feet. “You seem like a good kid, E. In return, you can run errands and low-end with us and test this relationship out.”

This stunned Eren. To the stomach-fluttering kind that was almost like a good-natured jumpscare. “Wait, you can what?”  

Blockaid let out a chuckle. “Yeah. I’m a Tinker, and I believe this would fall under my specialty.”

Eren stared at the Tinker before him, flickering over to Kami beside him and back to Blockaid to make sure he wasn’t pranking him. “Just to be absolutely sure, you can free me from this thing?”

“Free in essence, I would say. You’d still have to wear it, but I think I can override its system to show what we want.”

“Don’t take this seriously, but I think I could kiss you right now,” Eren announced, legs jellifying. 

“Ah, don’t do it before I’ve succeeded. This involves a great deal of trust. I would need to set this up in your home. It’s a great violation of privacy that’s not comfortable to capes, that I know.”

Eren tried to reel himself back. That is a bit uncomfortable. But being able to sneak out to learn the way of the streets and vigilantism? He couldn’t pass this up. Where else would he get this kind of deal? Besides, they didn’t know about his power. He was probably safer than they knew.

“I get it. But I have to do it. I will do it. The PRT aren’t to be messed with, but I want to do right by society.”

Blockaid nodded. “Then we’ll do it. But I don’t expect you to give and not have anything in return with the violation.”

The brown-haired cape reached up to grab at the technological mask that contained glowing blue lines and red glass goggles on a gray backdrop.

Kami struck out to quickly grab the cape’s elbow, stopping him. “You’re sure?”

Blockaid smiled. “Yes, Kami. Trust goes both ways.”

Blockaid removed his mask as Kami’s hand retreated and Eren got a view on a young man’s face that seemed to just have left its teenage years. His eyes were golden brown, more warm than Eren would have expected.

Blockaid once again reached out his hand. “I’m Marcel.”

Eren was stunned for a second time that day and once again shook Blockaids hand. Marcel’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Marcel.”

“No need to do the same, yet. So, this is what we’ll do. I’ll give you a telephone number,” Marcel brought out a scrap of leather and a pen from two of his many pockets and started writing, “and you’ll call me when you get the opportunity for the two of us to meet and start this whole stratagem. There’s no hurry, so contact me when you feel like the time is opportune. I’ll need a few days to prepare at least though. The process can take anywhere from 30 minutes to a few hours, I’d reckon.”

“Wow, this is honestly more than I expected,” Eren said as he received the piece with the number. “Why go this far?”

“I can see a troubled cape kid when I see one. Beyond that, we need all hands on deck that we can get our own hands on, to be honest. You’ve sort of got a mental power, right? That’s what Spew theorized. Most of us have very physical powers, so that would also be nice.”

“Yeah, you’re on the right path,” Eren said after a pause. He needed to be careful about what he revealed, and also how he spoke. He was not used to speaking verbally with strangers and Orbit couldn’t be affected, so he’d have to be mindful about how he said things so it couldn’t be mistaken by his power as a command.

“Interesting. However, the time is getting late. We’ll have to learn about each other as time goes or at another opportunity. But see this as an acceptance to use this house and come hang with us whenever you feel like, at least after we’ve fixed that thing,” Marcel said, pointing toward Eren’s ankle.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eren said, before another thought flitted by the forefront of his mind. “About the house…” 

A realization seemed to happen between them.

“Ah, Garnish hides the house with her illusions. You would have seen the house if you’d stepped closer, actually. Her illusions can’t hide anything beyond its barrier and cannot stop the physical.” Kami gestured toward the house.

“Oh, cool,” Eren replied, thinking about how that power could be used in all sorts of different situations. The one when they’d ridden on Marrow had been intriguing.

“I guess we will part ways once more. Thank you for coming, E. And don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t. You guys are awesome, I can’t wait to see how you do things.” Eren started walking back the way he’d come, pocketing the phone number. “I’ll see you!”

They parted on good terms, Garnish and Spew also waving from the windows of the house.

This was good. It was one piece on the chess board moved into its position. Now for the next few.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Eren had probably stood and watched the yellow letters on the window across the street for longer than he should.

Was this stupid? It probably, no definitely, was. He had no idea what he was doing or what he was supposed to do here, other than that a couple of words had scared the shit out of him and led him here, practically as an impulse decision alone.

“This does not exempt you from being sued by the other student in question due to the nature of the power usage. Keep that in mind.”

What was Jean's angle? Eren didn’t have a clue. Eren had no fucking idea of what kind of parahuman Jean was other than that Shadis implied that he could royally screw Eren over.

Beyond the windows and the yellow letters across the street was a law firm. 

Eren knew nothing about law firms, had never really had good access to lawyers, well, ever. The PRT had seen to that.

So what was he doing here? 

Well, perhaps for advice? Could Eren get the book thrown at him in a manner that would uproot him?

The fears gnawed at him.

It was the last straw and he carefully began to stride over the street toward the firm.

It had been pretty much a random choice. He basically only had two conditions:

1) It cannot have any association to the PRT.

2) It has to come up on Google and have a good reputation.

This was the choice. Eren had a few more he could try but this was his first stop at least. It was relatively large and he could probably disappear between the clientele. 

Eren entered through the doors into a large lobby. He felt hideously out of place as he looked around and got stuck in place at the entrance.

There was a waiting area to both his left and right as well as a reception desk right in front of him. The roof was high up, showing the second floor from where he stood, stairs further into the room. It had a modern look, an expensive look. 

There were people in suits sitting in the left waiting room. Of course, there were a few to his right too. Other waiting people did not have suits, but it became clear to him that they were at least dressed up. 

Here Eren stood, in a hoodie and with a yellow umbrella. He drew some looks from the others before they returned to shuffling with papers or tapping on their phones. A few couples were speaking in low, hushed voices.

Otherwise it was completely quiet, the occasional tapping of women walking in heels or someone talking with the receptionist sounding through the space.

Eren wavered, biting his lip. He did not belong here. This was a location for adults, and yet…

Those words played in his head again, and Eren walked in to take a seat where there were the fewest amount of suits. 

Suits haunted him, still. He disliked them. It made him picture another man entirely. Grisha had changed up his style when this came to light. It was the suit jackets, he thought. It was worse if they were paired with a red tie.

At no point did he feel relaxed. His spine was as straight and rigid as a metal rod, in fact. It did not escape his attention. Nor the attention of the wealthy men here, it seemed. He kept getting looks.

People came and went, both lawyers and the customers beside Eren. He could deduce the lawyers from the clientele suits, because the lawyers were always tailored to perfection. They had style. The clientele, not so much.

Eren sat glued to his seat. He had been here for too long to leave now. His hands felt clammy and he had no idea of what to do. Another lawyer left with a client. Eren watched the interaction out of the corner of his eye. 

His umbrella was dry now.

The receptionist had started to throw him looks now too, which probably wasn’t a good sign.

How did this work, exactly?

Another lawyer walked into the foyer and up to the reception desk, shuffling a few papers. He looked up and scanned the area, before doing a double take when his eyes set on Eren.

God, he must really be out of place to draw so many looks. Didn’t youths ever visit law firms? Eren rapidly removed his own gaze and looked down on his fiddling hands instead. 

Mumbles sounded up ahead.

Then taps of dress shoes echoed from the floor, moving toward him. They stopped a distance away from him.

“Do you have an appointment, kid?”

Eren looked up at the suited man, ugh, always the suits, and balked at the question. He briefly looked the man in the face. He looked stern.

“Eh, uh, an appointment?” he asked weakly. His fiddling turned into grabbing harshly at the skin on his hands.

The man looked unimpressed.

Ouch, Eren did not belong here. He changed his mind. He should just leave and let the man be. His own face felt completely pale and this whole thing left him feeling tight in his chest and wanting to go back to his mom and dad. He did not belong out in public.

Eren rose to do exactly like his mind told him, but an arm quickly shot out to make him stop.

“Wait. What are you here for?”

Eren stared at the arm, then the entrance and then the young man.

“Uh, advice I guess?” It sounded stupid and Eren winced. 

The man studied his face then seemed to uncoil, going into a more neutral expression.

“Normally you need to make an appointment to meet with a lawyer here,” the man informed him. “And this is an expensive place, kid.”

Eren nodded with a slow and pained expression, once again looking at his escape route.

“However, I do have a few minutes left over. I’m also an intern and won’t charge you. Please, follow me to my office.”

Eren’s head whirled to look at the man again in surprise. “Really?”

The man didn’t answer and simply turned around and started walking.

Eren dutifully followed, ill at ease and umbrella in hand.

The office they ended in was small and a bit cramped, perhaps fitting for an intern. The space was however tidy and orderly. It was used to the best of its ability. It was filled with books and charts.

The intern moved to the other side of his desk and sat down. He gestured for Eren to sit down across from him. A few taps sounded on the laptop in front of the intern.

Eren sat down, still stiff as a rod.

The law firm intern tapped away for a few more moments before turning toward Eren.

“I can’t do much for you right at this moment, but what were you here for?”

Eren clenched his hands underneath the desk again with anxiety. “Do you happen to deal with parahuman matters? Hypothetically.” He was sweating bullets. He was afraid to take off his jacket in case it would show.

“Hypothetically?” The man answered slowly. He didn’t get a response. “Hypothetically, there are other law firms that specialize in parahuman legal matters, but we do delve in those sometimes.”

The man sat back, tapping a pen against the desk while observing Eren. He seemed to be thinking.

“Are you in a hurry with this hypothetical?”

Eren released his hands and grabbed at his knees instead. “ I— Uh, I guess not? It’s just in case. And I want to know more about the, ah, legal side of things.”

“Mhm,” the man hummed, then a frown flittered over his face. “You have to excuse me, what’s your name?”

“Eren Jaeger?” Eren answered, almost a question in itself.

“Eren. I do have a proposition for you. I can fit you in my schedule for an unofficial appointment in the coming weeks. I’m not a lawyer — just yet, mind you — but I can offer you unofficial advice. Good advice from an almost-lawyer. You get it for free, and I get free training. How does that sound?” The man leaned forward, folded his hands together. He seemed sure of himself, a glint in his eye.

It made Eren feel somewhat more relaxed. A very small smile, the first of this visit, twitched over his lips.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Really good, actually. Do you have experience with parahumans or the legal aspects of them? Hypothetically, of course.”

“I do have experience. I plan to specialize in parahuman law when I finish the last of law school and then the bar, of course.”

A flash pinged in the back of Eren’s head. “As a prosecutor or defense attorney?” Eren asked slowly.

The man blinded him with a cocky smile. A weird hint of assuredness. “Defense attorney, I’d think. Both civil and criminal.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Eren mumbled. That was at least one good soul in the world that would stand up for them, hopefully for the victimized ones. He was just a few years too late.

The man scribbled on a piece of paper, then slid it over to him. “Does this date work for you? I’m sorry that I cannot do much for you today, but we run on a tight schedule. We can work the specifics out from the basics then.”

Eren read it over, confirmed the schedule in his head. “Yes, and uh, don’t worry about it.”

The paper stayed with him. The intern then slid him a business card with his contact info. 

Lastly, he slid a blank piece of paper toward Eren together with a pen.

“Should something change, I’d like a way to contact you,” the man said.

“Oh, yeah,” Eren muttered and wrote down his phone number and email.

Then, that was that.

Eren rose and the black-haired man followed the action with his eyes. Piercing eyes. Eren felt completely drained and those eyes sapped it even more. He wanted to go home and rest, perhaps crawl out of his skin when he remembered the awkwardness and cringeness of this day.

“Have a nice day Eren, and I’ll see you soon.”

Eren nodded, smiling the tiniest of smiles. “Thank you…”

He looked at the sign on the table to make sure he got it right.

“Thank you, Mr. Ackerman.”

The black-haired man smirked and then put a hand underneath his chin to rest his head on.

“The pleasure is all mine.”