Hannah rushed down the flight of stairs, jumped past a few staff members who stared at her wide-eyed, then stopped before the doors that would lead her to the lobby. She panted, heart racing for a few long moments as it went from beating humming-bird fast to a slower, more natural cadence.

It just wouldn’t do to appear frazzled to a bunch of kids.

She made sure her weapon was no bigger than a knife tucked in a back pocket of her costume and that sure her scarf was on just right. It was the reason why all the side entrances to the main lobby had mirrors. It wouldn’t do for the public to see dishevelled heroes.

She pushed the door open and walked into a scene of quiet tension.

PRT Troopers, some in their bulky armour, some in a more civilian appropriate police-like garb, were stationed all around the room, some standing closer to the doors, others trying to be inconspicuous as they guided tourists away from the lobby and to exits out the back.

And in the centre of the room, right where everybody would see them, six young parahumans.

“Um, we come in peace?” the tallest of the lot said.

There was a slight lessening of tensions at that. Miss Militia decided that it was as good a time as any to step up. “Calm down everyone, I’m sure the Brigade aren’t here to harm anyone,” she said.

The tall girl, Big Sis according to what she had read after briefing the Wards, blinked at her. “Ah, that’s right. But, the Brigade?”

“It’s what the internet has taken to calling you.” Really it was the Brat Brigade, but bringing that up while tourists were filming was a bad idea. Miss Militia smiled and hoped that it looked disarming. “Can the PRT help you this afternoon?” she asked.

Big Sis nodded. “I, yes, yes you can. I wanted to, um, talk about the bank incident? I was told that it would be for the best if I came here and made it clear that we, uh, didn’t have any ill will toward the PRT. Maybe, maybe look into the Wards program?”

Miss Milita’s next smile was far, far easier. “Of course. I happen to know that the director is here already. Did you want to follow me into the building? We could see if she’s available to talk, and if not I’m certain we can find a place for you to sit and relax.”

“Ah, that’s not a good idea,” Big Sis said. “My siste-- my partners here are not the sitting and relaxing sort. Maybe if it was just me and Tattletail?”

Miss Militia looked between her and the five other girls gathered around her. The little ones were already fretting and bouncing on the spot or glaring at the nearest Troopers while fondling knives.

“Do they want to stay here?” Miss Militia asked. “Someone could keep an eye on them?”

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“That might be for the best,’ a familiar voice said from behind her. She turned to find Colin, Armsmaster as he was suited up, moving over to her. “So many parahumans visiting the Director all at once would be inadvisable.”

“Great!” Big Sis said. “Thank you so much for agreeing to babysit, Miss Militia.”

“Indeed,” Armsmaster answered for her while her mind was still reeling. “Come with me.”

The dour Tinker spun on a heel and walked away, Big Sis and Tattletail following after him.

Miss Militia turned to the other girls. Crochet and Remedy were smiling at her. The other two were missing. “Where are--?" she began in a panic before Crochet pointed off towards the gift shop. Cheshire was currently comparing the crossbow she reportedly stole from Shadow Stalker to one of the plastic replicas displayed in the shop. “Oh, well, did you want to join her?”

The girls were off like missiles.

She had to admit, it was cute seeing how enthusiastic they were about hero things. She loved working with kids! They were always so full of energy.

Her enthusiasm died a sad, pitiful death when she saw that Crochet was animating all of the plushies at once and giggling as they fought in a mock battle. Remedy, fortunately, was merely trying on all of the fake hero masks one at a time until she gasped and ran to the affiliates’ corner and found a Glory Girl mask which she immediately put on.

Pop was... “Where’s Pop?” Miss Militia asked.

“Who the fuck cares?” Cheshire said before firing a bolt, a live bolt across the room and pinning one of Crochet’s Vista plushies though the head.

“Dearest sister,” Crochet said in a sickly sweet voice. “You are aware that this means war.”

An army of plushies ambled across the room like some sort of nightmarish superheroic version of Winnie the Pooh, all intent on getting to Cheshire who began firing plastic bolts at them, bolts that that the same physics bending properties as Shadow Stalker’s and which more often than not pinned themselves through the floor.

Miss Militia rushed over to them, then ducked when a bolt went flying her way. She had to stop this, she had to stop this now.

“Hey, don’t get in the way of my bullets!” Cheshire shouted before kicking the head off a plush Gallant.

Miss Militia turned, only to pause in horror as Remedy, still wearing a plastic mold of Victoria Dallon’s face, was holding up a potted plant that had been decorating one corner of the room. The flowers had been replaced by small, mewling puppies. “These would sell way better.”

Hannah had, at one time, wanted to have kids. Now her ovaries were shrivelling up in terror.