I strode down the hallway, trying to not to show the frustration I was feeling. Three days, three days I'd sat behind the console while the others did hero work. It was supposed to be punishment, but it didn't feel earned. Complaining got me nowhere, and refusing to work wasn't an option, so I just had to bite it. Didn't mean I had to be happy about that though...

Even though I was frustrated, I was a little excited too. Sophia had been cleared for visitation earlier today, when I'd been working. Gallant had mentioned it, and it kind of felt like a subtle nudge to go see her. I may not have liked her, and she sure as shit didn't like me, but stopping her had been an unassailably good thing to do. Even if no one else got it, she might. At least, I wanted to apologize for pepper spraying her one or three times.

“Amaranth,” I spoke into a microphone next to a fortified door, staring into a piece of glass just above. A lens. “Visiting Shadow Stalker.”

“One minute,” a clipped voice came back. I crossed my arms and sighed, leaning against the wall. Finally: “MS password.”

“Iroquois two-two-eight,” I replied without hesitation. I'd been damn sure to keep those codes in mind, considering the city's residents.

“Wait one.” A beat. The locks clicked and the door swung outward slowly. “Step into the room on your right. Remove all extraneous equipment, you can use one of the lockers. An officer will escort you down.”

I nodded and stepped into the room, removing my pepper spray and baton then stuffing them in a locker. I pulled off my hood and put that in too. Just the tight covering under would be plenty, and hopefully make me look more personable. I sighed and tutted as I looked in a mirror, fixing my costume as best I could. It was well fitted for moving around and stuff, but wasn't able to handle an autistic girl trying to stay seated for a console shift...

I walked out and nodded to a waiting trooper, who gestured for me to follow then turned around. I trailed him, glancing around the hall as I did. It was a pretty brutal looking place, with narrow corridors built to take a bomb, or a Brute I guess. Was this where they'd held Lung after capturing him? It looked like the sort of place they'd toss a guy like him.

We paused outside one door of many, a little lighter than the others. The trooper pulled it open and gestured for me to go inside. I did, finding a cubicle-sized room on the other side, one wall made of plexiglass. Shadow Stalker was already there, a balaclava hiding her face. She glared at me as I stepped in, flipping me off when I waved.

“Hey Shadow Stalker,” I greeted her, ignoring the gesture. “Um, how are you?” I heard her huff.

“I'm in fucking jail thanks to you, miss gestapo.” Her tone was bitter.

“I mean,” I pushed on. “Are you like, physically okay? I used pepper spray on you, and I didn't know how...how bad it was.” A half-truth. I knew it was pretty bad, I didn't know the full extent though. She glowered at me silently for a few seconds, then looked away.

“I'm fine,” Shadow Stalker spat, shrugging her shoulders. “Fucking hurt until Panacea got her fat ass down to heal me.”

“Sorry,” I apologized again. “I only had a taser to work with besides and...I don't think either of us would have liked those results.” I saw a minute shiver shake her shoulders. “And you're a badass. Even with someone like Regent in control, you could have kicked my ass, so I needed an advantage.”

“You're right,” she nodded. “I could have kicked your ass.” I rolled my eyes. Of course that's what she would pick out.

“Anyway, I wanted to apologize, and I did.” I shrugged and sighed. “Do uh, do you know what they're doing with you yet?” Shadow Stalker seemed to shrink back. She was silent for a while.

“Dunno,” she said at last, shoulders slumping. “Probably throw the book at me for...all this.” I nodded.

“That sucks,” I said. “Losing you now, especially.” She scoffed.

“Regent got his hooks in me.” Shadow Stalker's voice sounded distant, hollow. “He...I couldn't stay here anyway, even if they didn't throw me in fucking juvie. He could...” She fell silent, staring at the ground.

“Was that your house?” I asked, even though I knew. I got a nearly microscopic nod in response. “Fuck. Sorry I hit you with pepper spray but...I'd do it again.” Hopefully I wouldn't have to.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I'd...I'd rather have had you tase me, than going in there with him.”

“Glad it didn't come to that,” I said. “We need all the heroes we can get. I don't like you, I don't think we'll ever be friends, but...” I shrugged and took a step closer to the glass. “Hope you don't get benched.” She chuckled dryly, then fell quiet for another minute.

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“Hey Amaranth,” Shadow Stalker broke the silence, suddenly raising her head. “What is--”

“Dragon to Amaranth,” a voice suddenly spoke into my ears. I tapped one and turned away from Stalker.

“Go ahead,” I replied, heart beating faster. Dragon wouldn't be contacting me without a reason, and I could only think of--

“Mannequin has infiltrated the building,” she said flatly. My guts bubbled with fear. “Armsmaster is currently delaying him. Proceed to the east wing, block 2-A, not far from you.” I could feel sweat pricking my back. “More reinforcements are on the way. Hurry.” The transmission cut and I turned back to Shadow Stalker.

“Sorry,” was all I spared before heading out the door.

I ran, ignoring the startled PRT trooper. I scrambled into the locker room and grabbed my gear as fast as I could, dropping my pepper spray in my haste. I growled and ignored it, not like it had a chance against Mannequin. I ran out into the hallway and towards my room. Not actually, but my destination was only three blocks down.

I bulled through a door, jolting slightly from the impact. Dragon's voice came in my ear, briefing me on Mannequin, formerly Alan Gramme. I partly turned it out, it wasn't anything I could really use; she wasn't telling me how to kill him. I swore and stumbled, forced to slow so I didn't fall. I came to the elevator and smacked the button, jumping inside and hitting the floor I needed.

I heaved in breath during my forced break, trying to rest as much as I could. It made sense that Containment was as isolated as it was, but also fuck. Two weeks of training and a few days of OJT weren't much for physical fitness, and this was something I couldn't slow down for. I wasn't sure what exactly I could do to Mannequin, but I was percolating a few ideas.

I started running as soon as the doors began to open. I blew past a squad of battered looking troopers going the other way. I wasn't sure what was going on in the city exactly, but the Nine were nominating. The PRT had already been having a time of it, and ahead was one hell of a week.

I reached my wing and poured on the gas, my lungs burning. That was fine, all I had to do to beat Mannequin was stand still. I could do that while soaked in sweat and barely able to breathe, easy. Ideally if I got my hands on one of his chains, or got one wrapped around me, I could really do something. Lasting damage, impact, something.

I nearly slipped as I rounded the corner marked '2-A' in large, block letters. I wasn't sure exactly what room I was looking for, relying on Dragon to cue me in. Sure enough, I saw one of the doors open ahead, and in my ear came a quiet, urgent: “Hurry.” I rounded the door and gasped at the grisly sight. Too late. I forced myself to swallow my rising bile and ran over to the fallen Armsmaster. Jesus fuck shit damn he was in bad shape. I ignored the wounds on his face, ugly but not life-threatening.

“Dragon,” I barked, eyes widening at the sight of the holes in his belly. “First aid kit, or anything I can use to stem the bleeding.”

“Bathroom, door on your right.” I looked and jogged in there, digging through the cupboard.

I grabbed the box of first aid supplies, along with a box of tampons I found under the sink. I was no doctor, far fucking from it, but I was pretty sure there wasn't going to be enough gauze to staunch three, deep wounds like that. Something sterile and absorbent, literally designed to soak up blood, was surely ideal. Hopefully they wouldn't be upset about my Russian wound dressing...

I knelt next to Armsmaster, breaking open the box of supplies and tearing into the sterile dressings. I pressed one down on one hole, another on another. I had to leave one to dress the third, pushing down hard to keep what was there in place while I worked. Dragon talked in my ear, telling me help was only thirty seconds away.

I didn't stop, couldn't stop. Half a minute was a hell of a long time for someone in this shape. I knew, rationally, Armsmaster survived this in the end. But his blood was still pouring over my hands as I tried to put a stop to it, his breath still came in rattling heaves, wet and sickly. This was a dying man, something I had plenty of memories of. I grabbed more dressings from the first aid box, the last two, and applied them to the saturated ones that I had already been using. I was reaching for the tampons when the tromp of boots behind me made me pause.

“Move aside,” a clipped voice barked. I did without hesitation, and a trooper with a patch of the red cross took my place.

“Amaranth.” I flinched and glanced up as a hand touched my shoulder. Miss Militia was standing there, eyes wide. “Are you alright?” I gulped and nodded.

“Yeah, fine,” I replied, eyes flicking back to Armsmaster, still bleeding. “Um, I didn't get here in time.”

“Did you stop needlessly on the way?” I shook my head. “Did you move as quickly as you could?” A nod, more hesitant. What was she getting at? “We weren't in time either, Amaranth. You did everything you could.”

“It doesn't feel like enough,” I replied, staring at my bloody hands. I had flinched at some point, and now my gloves were soaked. I could move my projection around to disperse it but... “I was meeting Sophia, but I could have gone back to my room instead. I'd have been closer, I could have helped.” Miss Militia sighed and gently rubbed my arm.

“I'm sorry it feels that way now,” she said kindly. “You did your best, and that's blameless. I hope you come to understand that.”

Looking back at Armsmaster, I couldn't help but feel she was wrong. After all, I should have known, did know, but not exactly enough to intervene. I was dismissed to my quarters, being told to expect a debriefing soon. I just nodded numbly and left the scene. My hands were sticky with blood, my lungs burned with from my desperate sprint, but that wasn't where my mind was.

I was fuzzy on a lot of Worm. Pretty much everything after Jack left town was a muddled blur; something something kill Coil, something something Echidna, something something Alexandria dies, etc. But tomorrow, tomorrow I knew from a certain point onwards. I felt my hands grow clammy as I entered my apartment and stripped, heading for a quick shower before going straight to bed. Tomorrow, Amy Dallon would force her sister to love her.

And I had no idea how I was going to stop it.

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