Natile sits in her office doing paperwork. Lately, her days are a blur of paper, ink, and dolling out orders. She sometimes misses the days when she worked at the museum; where the only issues that came up were missed deadlines and upset customers. Just as she finishes signing her name on a requisition form, she hears the voice of the nameless lord speaking to her, and listens immediately. An icy look forms on her face, one of frustration and sadness. She stands up and marches out of her office, heading for Hebron.
Marcel rests in his office, having just finished a long day of training while he waits for the news of how the attack to reclaim the reactor is going. He knows they only left yesterday, and the attack is only happening now, or at least soon, but is impatient nonetheless. While wiping a cool cloth across his head, there is a knock on the door. Outside of it, Natile waits with anger threatening to boil her blood, but a gentle smile on her face. "Come in." Marcel says. She opens the door. "Oh, Natile. What brings you here?"
"Hey Marcel, can I talk to you about something?"
"Sure, what's up?"
She sits in a chair across from him at his desk. "You've been a hero group leader for a while now. At least a couple of years?"
"Right."
"I'm having some trouble with one of my staff members. Can I get your advice? I'm still new to being in charge. Omar used to handle all of this stuff before, and I've never had to work with people much."
"Absolutely, I'd be happy to." Marcel agrees easily.
"Excellent. One of my team members is very defiant. He challenges me and my authority more often than I'd like. It's happened a few times recently. I'll give him an order, and he'll do the opposite, or do his own thing. He think's he's helping, or that he's right, but it's causing issues. Recently, he filed the wrong paperwork and someone got hurt. Have you ever had to deal with something like this?" Natile asks.
"Actually, yeah. A while back, when we started accepting new people into Shepard's Court, I had this one guy who was a real loner. Liked to do his own thing. Didn't like taking orders."
"What did you do?"
"In the end, some stuff was ruined. He'd made a mistake too, and broke some of the other's equipment. I made him reimburse the other hero for the broke equipment, and made him pay a compensatory amount since that hero had to go without his best stuff for a while. He ended up paying something like seven times the price of the equipment because so much of it was harder to get because of the war. Which I was fine with. It made a good lesson to that hero, and the others, that severe consequences come with foolish mistakes. If he didn't pay, then he would be kicked out of Shepard's Court. Sometimes you just have to be strict."
"That's what I was thinking too… I'm glad we agree." Natile says, coldly. "You're the employee."
"Huh?" Marcel asks, confused.
"You are the employee I've been having trouble with."
"What are you taking about? If this is about the mission, I assigned Kevin to take care of every-"
"Kevin is dead." She says in a matter-of-fact tone. As if she had told Marcel he was out of soap, and not just told him that his long-time friend was killed. "I know about the plan you sent him with. I know you were instructed to send Sara, and I know you knew there was a chance he wasn't coming back."
Marcel's eyes go wide. He starts to say something, to ask questions, to defend himself, but nothing comes out of his mouth. All that runs across his mind is the pain of knowing his friend is gone, and it was his fault. Others have died under his command before, but not him; not Kevin. On some level, he believed the four original members of Shepard's Court would always be together. After losing Johnny, how could they not be? It was happening all over again… Marcel stands up and walks to the side of his desk, aimless and stunned.
"Marcel David." Natile stands up from the chair she had been in; a powerful golden glow in her eyes. Like fire, it rolled off her face. "You're actions will have consequences." She reaches her hand towards Marcel, and a golden light begins to flow like liquid glass from Marcel into Natile. "Omar believed you were worthy of this gift, of this anointing of power… he was wrong."
Marcel can feel the aura he was given years ago seizing under her grasp, and start to leave him. His face twists in pain as he nearly collapses against a filing cabinet. But it isn't the light that hurts him, it is the fact that she is right. He doesn't fight it. He doesn't resist or defend himself. He accepts it. But just before the last of the power is taken from him, as tears roll down his face, he speaks. Not to Natile, but to that voice he'd refused to listen to, no matter how right it was in the past. He knew this was probably the last time he would ever be able to speak to it, to hear it, and he wanted it to know, "I'm sorry."
Stop.
Natile freezes, and the golden light halts in place midair. It wasn't Marcel the voice had spoken to, but her. The voice speaks to her again, and tells her exactly what to say. The light returns to Marcel in a burst, and the room is quiet for a moment. Marcel opens his eyes, confused. "Why can I still feel it?"
"Marcel, your actions will have consequences, but not for you. Others will pay the price, but you have been given another chance."
"Others? No, I can do it. Please, let me pay the price. Not anyone-"
"Quiet!" Natile snaps. "Future generations will remember your mistake. And many will be hurt because of what you did. This war will be prolonged. Make no mistake Marcel, you failed." The words cut him like a knife, and he inhales sharply. "For now, spend every day doing better. Omar believed you could be the greatest hero of your generation. Even the best to ever lived. But power did something to you. Made you obsessed with ensuring others saw you as a hero, made you just like Saul, in a way. Not exactly. Not yet."
"I won't be like him." Marcel says, vowing to himself as much as he is to Natile.
"Hopefully not." She says, and leaves the room.