The minutes after the initial encounter with the Deep Ones passed in a blur. There had been two large-scale battles in Belport—the one in the central portion of South Side, where Mod's teams had engaged shock troopers and a monstrosity, and another on the far Eastside of the coast.
Afterward, the capes were brought back to the Summit's staging area on the North End for debriefing, medical attention, and rotation.
The parking lots around the staging area were filled with new recruits, sparring and practicing maneuvers. The helicopters landed on the outskirts of the converted parking lots, and all the new recruits stopped and turned to the returning capes.
Mod and the others stepped out of the helicopters to solemn applause. Some of the new recruits looked like they wanted to cheer, but were taken aback by the sight of them.
Despite how ragged and tired everyone in the helicopter had been, the capes all stood taller.
Mod tried to do the same. It was hard not to limp on his damaged leg. Now that adrenaline and shock were wearing off, the pain was seeping in—who knew how many cuts burned and ached.
It was even harder to keep a steadfast expression on his face.
Mod recognized some of the new recruits from the lecture hall. Their homemade costumes and panty hose masks no longer felt naive and inadequate... No longer looked like wannabe heroes playing pretend.
Now the new recruits looked downright suicidal.
Mod wanted to scream at them, "Go home!"
They had no idea what was waiting for them out in the water. They might've seen footage of the Deep Ones, but that didn't do it justice. These recruits didn't really know what it was like.
Two paramedics rushed through the capes and toward one of the far helicopters. They lifted a young woman in baggy clothes out and onto a stretcher. Mod couldn't see her face under the breathing mask, but he knew it was Liara—the cape that went down on Mod's roof.
Mod only caught snippets of conversation. Liara was in critical condition... and apparently she wasn't the only one. The second battle on the far east side of Belport's coast hadn't gone well for the Summit. Other casualties were coming in.
He'd been so focused on Liara and the medics that he didn't notice the rest of his friends walk over.
McGuire's baggy jacket had several slashes across it, and the gadgeteer's mask looked like it was absolutely drenched in sweat.
"Hey man—Holy shit, your suit..." McGuire said. "Did you try to hug it out with one of those fish-dudes or something?"
Cherry socked Mod playfully in the arm. "More like he tried to hug a lawnmower."
Despite her smile, Cherry rolled her shoulder and winced. Her red hair had been singed on the side.
Arsenal asked, "What happened to your hair?"
"I got too close to someone's fire powers."
Arsenal replied, "You should go for an undercut. It suits you."
Larian and Krystal walked up next. Krystal's arm was slung around Larian's shoulder for support. Larian had a few slashes across his suit, but thankfully, those looked superficial.
Larian smiled. "I'm just glad we all made it."
Larian looked tired, but Krystal looked like she'd just run a double marathon. Her blue hair was matted and her eyes looked distant.
Krystal forced a smile. "Next time, I want psychic powers or a flying suit of armor."
Mod regarded Arsenal. All her exosuit had was superficial scratches. At a glance, she looked fine, but Mod could tell by her voice how tired she was. The others didn't know that Clara had to power her own suit.
Arsenal waved a dismissive gauntlet. "The suit's not all it's cracked up to be."
Mod turned back toward Krystal and smirked. "What about we turn you into a cyborg?"
Krystal looked him up and down, eyeing his injuries. "No, thank you!"
The group shared a hearty laugh. Mod followed along, half-wanting to ask if his injuries really looked that bad. He wouldn't have guessed it from the pain alone, but then he'd had worse. Much worse.
The group walked with the flow of returning capes. Serenity led the teams toward the repurposed office building. Medical teams were already triaging the returning capes, funneling them toward medical tents or monitoring areas with practiced efficiency.
Larian said he wasn't injured but offered to help Krystal to a medical tent.
It quickly dawned on Mod that the group would be going their separate ways for the day. Most of them seemed alright enough, but Krystal didn't. And Mod and Arsenal needed to get back to the lab.
Each time they sparred together, the group stayed together afterward. Sometimes they reviewed their tactics, but most times they just hung out. They were friends, after all.
Sometimes, it surprised Mod just how quickly that had happened.
"We'll find you later," Mod called after them.
Larian and Krystal turned and both laughed. Krystal blew a strand of hair out of her face and said, "Just worry about yourself."
Mod, Arsenal, McGuire, and Cherry stepped out of the flow of returning capes so they didn't hold up traffic.
McGuire adjusted his mask. "I guess this is goodbye."
Arsenal scoffed. "You say it like we're not going to see each other tomorrow."
McGuire replied, "I don't know what I'm going to do without Mod. I haven't slept by myself in, like, a month."
Cherry chuckled, and Mod rolled his eyes.
"Don't say that so loud. Some of these capes might write fanfiction," Mod replied jokingly.
McGuire glanced around suspiciously, like he was about to make another joke, but TINA interrupted him.
"I'll monitor Summit forum accounts for anything suspicious."
Cherry snorted. "Come on, McGuire. Some of us humans need to rest." She held out her arm for McGuire, and the pair walked arm in arm toward the tents.
Mod and Arsenal watched them go.
Before they could leave, a nearby medic took one look at Mod, then tried ushering him toward a medical tent.
Arsenal stepped forward. "He's a cyborg. He needs repairs."
The medic looked Mod up and down. Their face was a mix of confusion and concern.
Serenity came over a second later.
"He'll be fine," Serenity replied. Then she turned to Mod and Arsenal. "How fast can you be ready for action?"
TINA replied in Mod's ear, "Prosthetic repairs will take approximately one hour. Most organic wounds will heal in twelve to twenty-four hours. Your thigh will take one to two days to heal completely."
Mod blinked. He hadn't been exactly sure what to expect, but it felt like his organic healing had gotten even faster.
"I should be ready by this evening."
Serenity turned to Arsenal expectantly.
Arsenal replied flatly, "I'll be ready by this afternoon."
Serenity nodded, then looked out over the rest of the returning capes and the trainees. Her lips pursed in concern.
"I wish I could give you more time, but I don't think we'll get it. Stay home for the day and rest. I'll expect you back here tomorrow morning. If they attack again, I'll message you. If that happens, I expect you to fly your asses back here as quickly as you can."
~
Mod and Arsenal boarded a heavy drone bound for the lab. Once the drone doors closed, Arsenal climbed out of her suit, and the two of them peeled off their masks.
Despite the fact that they were both tired and ragged, Emmett couldn't help but admire Clara. She sighed and pushed back stray strands of hair. Even now, she exuded power and poise.
Thankfully, Clara didn't notice him gawking. She sat on the metal bench next to him and leaned against his shoulder.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Clara's hand found his and their fingers laced together.
Emmett smiled and sighed. "Why does everybody keep asking me that?"
"Because you look like shit," she replied, squeezing his hand.
"I'll be fine. That was pretty rough out there though, wasn't it?"
Clara nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Emmett let his worries drift away and focused on the weight of Clara against his shoulder—the feeling of her hand in his.
"I could go for a coffee," Mod said quietly.
"Deal."
That was the last they said to each other on the trip back to the lab. Then there was only comfortable silence and the quiet hum of the heavy drone.
~ ~ ~