I saw some heads nodding. I didn’t see as much confusion as I’d feared. I still saw a lot.

Okay.

I stepped back.

Armstrong had more to say. Mostly my head was buzzing from the adrenaline of public speaking and the dull embarrassment that I was admitting to Breakthrough’s mistake. I kept still and composed, letting Armstrong take the spotlight.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it. Composure was more important.

I saw my family in the crowd. My mom smiled.

Felt like a fucking kid in the school choir, looking for Mom in the crowd. Fuck.

The moment passed quickly, at least. I saw my team. My heroes. Sveta with her patchwork coat over her costume, Precipice in white and silver with veins of gold and his additional arms. Capricorn in red armor, helmet off, but the cloth mask and head-covering that kept the cold metal from contacting flesh still hiding his identity. Lookout, wearing her updated costume with the vaguely creepy mask I hadn’t had the time to steer her away from, her clothing matched more to the Heartbroken, with a lot of black cloth decorated with blue silver, all looking more like high fashion than anything utilitarian. Layered cloth, ruffles, lace, traps, and beaded fabric—not too much, but enough to draw the eye. Candy, Chastity, Darlene, Roman, Juliette.

“…are symptoms of increased instability and loss of self as the agent gains more ground. Monitor yourselves and your teammates, and when in doubt, report your concerns.”

Portals were beginning to open up. Kenzie’s portal-box tech, which was somewhere in the facility now, apparently.

“Thank you, Dr. Armstrong,” Chevalier said. “Those of you with questions, concerns, those of you wishing to back out, and those of you we’ve already talked to about managing the situation around Shin or the Machine Army, please remain behind. Everyone else, we will be in touch with powers or the communication lines that still work. Please proceed through to your destinations and do what you do so well.”

The screens set up behind the stage showed the portals and their labeling. People were already getting sorted, talking as they found other teams they knew.

“Thank you,” Armstrong said. “We’ll stay in touch.”

“Thank you,” I told him. I meant it. He’d been decent to me overall. “Good luck.”

“You too. Look after Sveta for me?”

I nodded.

I flew down to the floor.

It didn’t feel like enough, with no discussion of weak points, or even any clear answers of what their weak points might be. In reality, I didn’t think we had any idea.

It felt like an Endbringer fight, except we were being asked to split up, to gather in smaller numbers.

With people getting sorted and the crowd pulling away, it wasn’t too obstructed a path to my teams.

My family, I saw, had already left. My mom was waving, probably to get me to come over. I just didn’t really have it in me. It looked like Uncle Mike had already gone somewhere, as had Aunt Sarah. My dad had gone with Amy.