The room saluted him, and the operators went to their screens.
As Amp descended from the platform, the captain, Jack Williams, spoke.
"Amp, I heard about what happened. Maybe you should take a break."
"No. Compared to how those men lost their lives fighting the Baron, overseeing the passengers is nothing."
At that moment, he spotted a small rise on the side of the purple-haired soldier's mouth. Turning to him, Amp asked,
"Is there something you want to say, Wade?"
Scoffing, Wade replied,
"I was just thinking about how fortunate we are that you once again returned as the lone survivor."
Amp stood silent. He then stepped toward Wade. Each step quieted the room until finally, all was silent. Now in front of Wade, Amp looked down at him.
"Those vision powers of yours make it easy to be brave, don't they?"
Staring right back at him, Wade replied,
"A rabid dog is still a rabid dog. It doesn't matter if you see it coming."
"Tell that to the dog."
A hand forced its way in between them.
"That's enough," the captain cut in. "Amp, thank you for your work and for bringing that man to justice. And Wade…" The captain looked at him, shaking his head.
But the tension remained. Amp and Wade continued to stare at each other, both refusing to back down. The room sat quiet, the only sound the odd tapping of an operator clicking their keyboard. Until finally—
"Humph." Air forcefully exited Wade's nose as he stepped backward. "Resorting to violence when you don't get your way. Some things never change."
Amp yelled, his chest slightly glowing,
"What else am I supposed to do? No one wants to tell me what happened!"
The captain replied, "We're not allowed to. That would defeat the purpose of a new identity. Just make peace with not knowing and move on."
"Move on? How can I move on when your looks and remarks constantly remind me that something happened? How am I supposed to make things right if I don't know what I did wrong?" he yelled at Wade, who sat on top of a desk, arms folded, unmoved.
The captain got closer to Amp, whispering in his ear. "I'll remind you that this is what you asked for. You willingly let yourself get decommissioned."
Amp gritted his teeth, clenching his fist.
He's right. I've watched the tape thousands of times. I approved the decommissioning without any signs of being under duress. But why? If I did so willingly, why do I feel so much regret? Why do I feel so much rage?
With a deep exhale, his shoulders slightly sank.
"I'll be in my quarters."
He then started toward the door, but just as he was about to leave, he paused.
"The zero I told you to do a background check on—did you find anything?"
Raising an eyebrow beneath his mask, the captain responded,
"Yes. His name is Elijah Blackwell. He was an orphan. He takes regular trips between the Wu Go Alliance and Eisenhelm but has never been to the Western Front.
He's your typical zero—base power one or two—but his body's incompatibility—muscle tears, chronic pain, paralysis, migraines, etc.—make him a zero."
Amp thought to himself,
So he really is a zero. Is it possible? It's been decades, but could he really be a genuine warbreaker?
Still facing forward, Amp turned his head back.
"If his drawbacks are so severe, how did he save that boy? He seemed relatively—"
The third soldier cut in.
"He never fully used his speed. Though he moved quickly, half the distance was spent speeding up and the other half slowing down. That significantly reduced the impact."
Amp's brow raised.
"You're saying he could move faster?"
"Potentially."
The captain added, "He's also fit, so his body can take more strain. But he's still a zero. If he did it again, he'd probably be dead."
The big soldier commented, "He's got a death wish. I heard from the brat that he's applying to the F.F.H. Hero Program."
Amp stood silent in the doorway.
He's also applying to the hero program? Saving a kid is one thing, but for him to trust in his own abilities enough to repeatedly rely on them… He could be someone I can use.
As he was in deep thought—
"Ugh."
Amp groaned, clutching his head and falling to his knee.
"Amp?"
"I'm fine!" he said quickly, almost barking.
He turned back to the soldiers. "I want you to approve his application."
"What?" the captain shouted.
"Put Williams as his sponsor; ensure that he gets a fair shake."
"That makes no sense! Why would we—"
"Just do it!" Amp roared. He then cleared his throat.
"Call me if anything happens."
The door shut and, as the hiss faded, Wade addressed the captain.
"I thought I told you and my brother not to decommission him again," he said, bouncing his right foot off the floor.
"We felt leaving him like he was before would be unsustainable."
"So this is better?" Wade got up furiously, pointing at the door.
"I tried to dissuade him, but your brother's mind was made up."
Wade's expression didn't change. "So you're gonna what? Keep this charade going, even if it keeps taking innocent lives?"
"I'll do what I must."
On the way to his room, Amp once again stumbled to the floor.
This pain, it won't go away.
Flashes of a woman dying and him being tied down to a chair, being decommissioned, flooded his head. As he sat on his knees, a small pool of sweat had formed beneath him. A few seconds passed and the pain started to fade.
Slowly, he rose.
Of course. Who else could have done it?
Now standing, his eyes had changed. Rekindled, they had lost all uncertainty. The only thought going through his mind:
General!
Back in the control room, Wade was still arguing with the captain as he stared at his cold, orange helmet.
"Anything for power, huh? You know, when we found you, I thought maybe—since you grew up without us—you'd be different."
The captain replied, his voice calm, each word as uncaring as the next,
"Greed infects us all, Uncle, rich or poor." He then turned around, facing the operators. "Everything in this room stays in this room. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir!" they shouted.
Wade's eyes flared as the captain turned his back to him and ascended to the observation deck. Under his breath, Wade commented,
"I tried, but there's no saving these people." He then walked toward the door.
"You weren't dismissed!" the captain shouted, but Wade walked on, firm, unperturbed, and filled with resolve.
Having watched all this, the big soldier chuckled.
"You sure that was a good idea?"
"He just needs to blow off steam. He knows how important Amp is to the General."
The big soldier said nothing as the captain turned back to the glass, observing the passengers.
Back in the theatre, Savannah had been watching pre-Neo media.
"I don't get it. I'm supposed to believe that criminals would be scared of a normal guy in an animal costume? Humph, at least the sidekick makes sense. Why wouldn't you cover the only exposed part of your face?"
Elijah's eye opened.
Not one ounce of sleep.
He groggily got up and, as he walked past Savannah, he saw her fully lying back, eating popcorn.
From pacifist hippie to the average West Fronter. So long as she's happy, I guess.
Making his way up the stairs, she caught his shadow. Leaning out of her chair, she said,
"Oh good, you're up. I wanted to ask you something—wait, are you okay? Didn't you get any sleep?"
"Get sleep?" Elijah started maniacally laughing to himself.
"You laughing like that doesn't exactly fill me with confidence."
Elijah's laugh slowly tapered off. "Yeah… what is it?"
Her voice lowered, slightly hesitating.
"Before I left the depowering room, one of the soldiers—the one with purple hair—warned me about being targeted."
"By Jack?"
"No, but he did say I should keep him in mind. No, he said by random civilians or rogues. I'm not worried about me, but about my family. He said sooner or later someone would use them to get to me."
Elijah turned to her.
"He's right. You make it far enough, you're bound to piss off someone—"
"But you said I would be safe!"
"I said you in particular would be safe. The F.F.H. won't allow something as valuable as a Level 2 to come to harm. Your family, however..."
She stood quiet, looking at the floor. He continued.
"Now, with that being said, it's still unlikely that anything immediate will happen to them. Overall, they'll be far better off than most. But remember, they're still in New Sentinel. They still live among men who can shoot fire out of their hands. They'll never truly be safe. That takes something else."
"What?" she exclaimed, her voice rising as she looked into his eye, which hinted at what she had begun suspecting deep inside.
Softly, he said,
"Unbridled, brutal power. The type of power that makes men shiver at the thought of you. If you had that, anyone with bad intentions against you or your family would steer clear of you."
But even then… there's always someone stronger, or at least there will be.
Savannah balled her fist, biting her lip. Jakob watched her, thinking to himself,
Looks like she's finally starting to understand the position she's in. All it took was words from someone she believes is looking out for her, though I am surprised that Elijah is the one to do so.
Elijah continued, "But that's just my opinion. There could be other paths. I mean, your parents managed to raise and protect you as pacifists, right?"
She looked at him and, with a low head nod, whispered, "Thanks for telling me. I understand."
He nodded.
As she sank back into her chair, watching the monitor, Elijah said with a slight chuckle, "You could also try wearing an animal mask?"
But she kept quiet, the joke flying by with nowhere to land.
Elijah turned back. As he made his way up the stairs, his eye glowed a piercing blue, glaring intensely at the F.F.H. emblem.
He remembered that at the airport, during the moment when Eddy, the officer, was about to explode, he had seen repeating symbols which started from Savannah's left forearm and ended at her right shoulder.
She claimed her parents died protecting her—helping her escape—but given the burn marks on her neck and the lightly singed hair of her eyebrows… I suspect her parents were either killed immediately, leaving her to fend for herself, or she panicked and her power went off, killing both them and her pursuers.
Unbeknownst to Savannah, Elijah had studied the Calmarans long before he had met her. He knew of their tradition in which, for every act of harm they committed, they would tattoo a symbol to represent that particular sin.
The mark etched into Savannah's skin?
The pinnacle of everything they stood against, the icon of how they saw the world, the symbol for murder:
The letter X.
He stopped.
Either way, peace was not what saved her. Hopefully, one day you'll forgive me for manipulating you, but given what I'm up against, there is no other option.
He then continued walking as the hologram of the F.F.H.'s top ten superheroes flickered behind him.