“6:43 AM, July 13th, 20XX. An, as of yet, unknown object lands hard in the middle of an intersection in the northern Kadia region town of Frigateville.“

  Already, the atmosphere in the room was thinning out. Everyone refusing to move like this was the real thing coming again. Para had really gone and chosen to make everyone relive this hell. But he was still right to… This was Seth’s story after all.

  “MWOS and NASA observers were unable to track the object, even when it entered atmosphere in direct line of sight of the MWOS Site 5 in the mountains north of the town. But the security cameras on site caught a few snippets of what occurred.”

  The slide changed to a video, old security camera footage, blurry and possibly corrupted. A streak of light slamming down into the forested town far below the camera’s designated sweep angle.

  “The impact was anomalous in its own right. Its projected velocity was something close to 80 kilometers per second, but it didn’t level the entire area and set off Richter scales all across the globe. When we found it after the fact, it had embedded itself into the ground, leaving just a crater and a lot of broken windows.”

  The footage continued on with only that smoke plume rising up into the sky.

  “But the real issue came at 6:48, just 5 minutes later. The footage couldn’t catch it all, but as you can see…”

  Flashes and illuminations spreading out from the smoking pillar.

  “The footage caught something happening.”

  It finally cut off as a massive flare erupted from the crater. A desperately suppressed terror locking Seth to those images, and subsiding as it turned to static without revealing too much.

  “That… was the earliest footage we have of the Laceroid Crisis. We still don’t know fully what happened to that town, expeditions to the site early on couldn’t be conducted in depth. And wildfires ignited during the fighting burned it to the ground before we could secure it. What little we could find offered even less than the footage.”

  Equally suppressed relief washing over. Dimming the heartbeat filling his ears. He never even contemplated all the empty cans and cereal boxes he left back in town, let alone his mattress fort. Or even the whole mess that was his old house.

  “All that we do know is that, around 7:06 AM, these things… came tearing into the town of Brighton.”

  The slide flipped, and Seth’s relief was obliterated. A soldier's helmet cam footage. A defensive line. One that… The one that he’d passed leaving Brighton. It shook violently as the line opened up, tanks and machineguns rattling everything, beams and powers crisscrossing the tracers, but all of it silent. The camera not recording audio, or it was muted. Blessedly muted. Because all that fire was worthless as a wave grey scales and teeth poured out of the still burning town. Black dust clouds splattering down range, bodies almost evaporating in the withering fire and smoke. But still… They still kept coming.

  The soldier wearing the camera realizing the futility, other soldiers beside him showing that same fear for all to see. They retreated, but the tanks flanking them were torn open like cans. They ran, but his fellow soldiers were nothing more than splatters of blood at the edges of the frame. They routed, crowds of soldiers trying to cling to a truck full of civilians desperate to flee the same. Only to have a missile of claws and teeth lunge right into the crowded seats. He stumbled, the only sound left in the room the hushed whimpers of those unable to look away. A monster towered over him, covered in blood like it had rained from the sky. But its unmerciful speed was refuted by a blur of blue and distorted air, and the ground suddenly flying away. The soldier looking up, a cape and old style suit all that could get into frame. They were saved, but they looked back down. And could see nothing of the defense they once manned. Nothing but clouds of kicked dust… and the blood splattering amidst the moving ground.

  The footage stopped on that image, and Seth’s heart was in his throat. He could barely breathe straight, his eyes were threatening to flood over. But he wasn’t the only one affected. No one should be, no one should be prepared for people dying like that. Least of all the one who had to see it all after… See who had-

  “This… was the only surviving footage we have from First Contact. And this is the best we can muster as to what these things really were.”

  The slide changed with an errant gasp, but tensions calmed as things moved on. Eventually. It was an artist rendition and statistic sheet on a standard laceroid. Instead of the burned and battered things Seth remembered, the things that he couldn’t ever forget, this one was too clean. The claws and teeth bearing none of the caked in dust, nor the burns and char of constant battering itself against the wall meant to contain it. But it was the eyes that… that sealed its disregard. It had some weird red hue to them, like artist hadn’t been told that they had human eye colors. Or they just didn’t want to show that.

  “Their average height was between 6 and 9 feet tall. Average weight could only be guessed at, but was estimated to be around 300 to 500 pounds. And that’s not fat either, that was muscle pure and simple. Or as simple as they could be. The force behind their attacks was measured to be in excess of 600,000 N. That’s a truck slamming into you at 60 miles an hour with every swing of their arms alone. So a lot more than muscle was behind them. They’d been clocked exceeding 75 miles an hour on a full sprint, but in bursts they hit several hundred. Their reaction times were somewhere in the space of milliseconds, if not higher. The percentile charts had to be rewritten because of these things.”

  The slide shifted as more sheets overlaid. Said chart of reaction times being adjusted for the new, horrifying, data presented. And yet only hung on for so long as more taxonomy took over the screen.

  “Their claws and teeth were their primary weapons, to say they were like honed metal blades is understating it. The metal content of their bodies was inordinate and ever present, and yet defied any subversion from metal or magnetic supers. So they were tough as literal nails, stupid fast, and catastrophically strong. But that’s all just half the issue with fighting them.”

  Another slide of data, but more esoteric to the layman’s eyes. So anyone without a specialty in electrical readouts. And bioelectric theory.

  “Each laceroid contained between 30 and 50 mega joules of stored energy. The what, how, and why they have it are still under deep discussion. What we know is that the energy was used to fuel exceedingly fast cellular regrowth, up to and including skeletal structures and even grey matter. How this was done without becoming brain dead or outright lighting themselves on fire from the sheer exertion is also up for debate. So don’t expect answers for another decade. Yet, in spite of this all-together alien exterior, and admittedly the only saving grace in this horrific package deal, the one consensus we do have is that their base was human.”

  A collective sense of unease resounded among some of the trainees. This news wasn’t very public, but it was known about. It was just too much for some to accept.

  “From what analysis we were able to do during the fighting, and from what reconnaissance we had of their spread, we know that they all came from Frigateville. And their numbers, the ones we could put together anyway, lined up a little too well with the town’s population. Around 50,000 of these things killed hundreds of thousands of people. Drove us nearly to our knees! Still… this isn’t a direct causation, only a numerical correlation after the fact. But with the evidence we have now, it’s all but confirmed.”

  The slide switched to what looked like an interrogation room, but filled with heroes, shackles, and strained faces. At one end was a pile of muscles and metal, layers of protective armor and sheer weight of numbers holding down a tied down laceroid. On the other was a lone figure wearing a helmet that looked like large singular eye. A hero known as Psyclops, known for being able to scrounge through a person’s thoughts with enough effort. But in turn run the risk of lobotomizing them if he pushed too hard.

  “We know conclusively they were human because they still had a human mental signature, brain waves and such. At least that was the report from Psyclops’s mentalist teams before they refused to investigate further. What they found wasn’t conclusive either. Or pretty. The human side of their brains were in some kind of locked in syndrome, caught underneath another entity none of the psychics couldn’t fight off. Or even make sense of. But its effects were clear, judging by every firsthand account we have. Including my own.”

  Para held for a moment, as if he truly had one thing that could truly bring him pause.

  “Looks of… desperation. Uncontrollable crying. A few instances of fucking laughter. It was like the thing controlling them stuck them on one setting and broke the knob off. But… But retained some amount of self-preservation in exchange. If it was clear they were about to die, they ran. Most of the swarms they congregated in following along if enough hit their limits. The problem was it was a pain in the ass to kill just one of them.”

  Slide change, a picture of the blood stained road out of Frigateville, complete with those same cars that Seth could hardly stop himself from remembering at this point.

  “Their appetites being a contributing factor to this. In that they sought out food over all else. Every living breathing thing, people, animals, insects, birds, even the fucking worms in the damn soil! They ate everything barring the plants and the trees beyond the wall. The bodies of the dead were just gone, nothing but blood stains left on hard surfaces. We still don’t know the full casualty numbers, they didn’t leave enough for us to fucking count. But in that same vein, we still don’t know the exact number of laceroids there were.”

  The slide flipped again to a black splotch on a road. One Seth had seen too much of. Felt too much of.

  “This is because, when a laceroid is injured, it uses some of that stored energy to heal. A few instances of extra accelerated healing after… feeding… means that their hunger wasn’t just for show either. But in the end they had a finite amount of energy to use. Once that energy was used up something weird occurred. Their molecular structure broke down, causing them to burst from the relieved density of their bodies rapidly decomposing and denaturing. What was left was nothing but desiccated flesh and dust, the matter and molecules that made them up broken apart. Not even the metal they had survived. As you can expect, theories abound, but the predominant one is that the energy kept them together. Like they were some horrifying energy homunculi. Whatever it was, it left nothing to study and nothing to count. Just a hell of a lot of poisoned earth.”

  Another slide, this time a brochure photo of Brighton. A quaint look down their main street, all the facades and signage inviting you in. But all Seth could see was the piles of rubble and blood scattered everywhere.

  “But back to the timeline. The first town hit and subsequently the area of greatest casualty. As I said, at around 7:06 AM the laceroids swarmed into Brighton. Smashing through walls, demolishing whole buildings, igniting fuel stations and gas mains. All in pursuit of anything and everything they could eat. The first news of the crisis came from the Brighton PD morning dispatcher, one Martha Laurie. She heard the cries and screams of her officers over the radio and called it in, staying at her post to relay what she could see through her window. Until it was too late. The first units to investigate her calls were flyers that just happened to be in the area, one Aurora Alice and Tunguska. Some kind of early morning date they had planned. They made it to the scene in minutes, even tried to help a group of fleeing civilians. …They were dead before they even understood what they were fighting. But they relayed everything they could as well, and a full response was called in.”

  The next slide was a breath of ease. A military base, the one not very far from what Seth knew. A high earthen wall covered in grass and topped with metal defenses. Behind towered block houses of concrete and wide swaths of asphalt depots. And at its back, all the way to the ridge beyond, was a pyramid of concrete and steel reminiscent to The Hill. Just smaller and more militarized.

  “The Fort Terrace military base was the closest available muster point, and a good number of the base’s families lived in Brighton, so the League’s first response was augmented with a few platoons of National Guard, armored cavalry, and tanks. The army was set up outside of town by 5:00 AM the next day, and was already getting swarmed with civilian refugees that had managed to escape the first waves. Several hero teams had already reconnoitered the situation, with many losing their lives because of it. But they bought time for more people to get away. And gave the first reports as to the scope of this crisis. Stratosphere, Aegis’ mother for those that don’t know, correctly guessed that the laceroids were spreading out from a single point, and the group in Brighton was starting to disperse. She helped mobilize air units from surrounding bases into a deep patrol route around the forests surrounding both towns, but the smoke from Brighton hampered any recon deeper in.”

  The slide changed back to the defense line footage, but it was paused before the line fell apart. The timestamps a bit more clear as the fear of the impending horror fell away.

  “First Contact, as it came to be known, came at 8:53 AM, Day 2. The units on the ground were obliterated as that prophesized dispersal happened. What few convoys of civilians that managed to be gathered up behind them were hunted down. Only 5 of the reported 12 vehicles made it away. The hero casualties were just as bad. 26 stayed on the line with the army, only one made it away. The flyer who pulled this soldier out in the end.”

  The slide flipped again, a satellite image of the crisis area. Smoke seen billowing across the forests and spreading.

  “League Command ordered immediate withdrawals across the entire area. Delaying and distraction units were set up and dispatched to cover this, but even those would suffered casualties. A full reevaluation of this crisis was ordered, and every military and League base in the continental United States was activated. Soon heroes from across the globe began volunteering, The United Nations saw the devastation of the first few hours and offered complete support. By Day 6 an action plan was drawn up for a massive defensive line around the now officially cordoned off region surrounding Frigateville. A roughly 2000 square mile area. The idea for The Wall propagated from this.”

  A new map came up, the extent of the cordon marked out and zoned. A massive semi-circle separated into sections and numbered to the degree. Ending, yet still marked up, at the rocky cliffs and ridges on the northern stretch. All with several miles of its outside edge extended out and shaded in.

  “The plan was for a war of attrition. If forces couldn’t hold them off normally then the threat had to be contained and starved out. The Wall, in its early iteration, was put forth as a vast marvel of mechanical and technological ingenuity. Autofactories would be built to supply turrets and automated defense systems to defend it. All the while human involvement could be kept to a minimum to prevent such extreme casualties from occurring again. The distraction and delay units were marked as the only forces allowed beyond the cordon, and flying heroes were sent into the field en masse to cover the operations.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  The slide flipped to what looked like gun camera footage from an attack helicopter. The grey scale thermal camera zoomed toward a large patch of dark spots in the distance before it shook as the gun fired. Bright flares of white streaking toward the distant blobs with no regard for accuracy.

  “Air units were called in to supplement the distraction force. True success was limited but it was able to drive swarms apart or into holes they dug to get away from the fire. Add in a bit of baiting operations for that overactive appetite of theirs and we had a good few days’ worth of distance between the frontlines and the construction. Speaking of which, by Day 10 it was already started in the area expected to meet the greatest threat, right down the only road out of the region. Block 037 in the town of Berta.”

  Next came a photo of The Wall under construction, cranes, supers, and various machinery being used in tandem. Plates being single handedly put into place and welded together without equipment. Whole blocks being just formed and held up by some of the supers.

  “Construction took weeks to complete, the multinational force created to facilitate it working round the clock to pull material, labor, and equipment from every corner of the globe. And funnel it all here. Probably bankrupted a few distributors and cleaned out a few dozen iron mines, but everyone knew the danger we all faced if this wasn’t contained. Especially as the first active sections came online, and under assault. Not to say this first iteration of The Wall was ineffective, but the sheer numbers combined with their healing factors certainly tested it. Thankfully the League remained a major point in the defense, because even this success was short lived.”

  The slide flipped to not a photo, but a waveform display. Seth didn’t understand what this was about. Until the sound started to play.

  *hesshhh hesshhh hesshhh*

  It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. But upon hearing it he felt the Garkah’s own feelings plummet in kind with his. Because he remembered it now, the sound from their initial meeting, the static in his head from trying to understand them. But why was it here?

  “For those in the know, you don’t need to be told. But for the uneducated, this is why the darkest part of the crisis was called the Signal Massacre.”

  Seth’s confusion melted, as his own heart sank back down alongside his internalized friends.

  It was the countermeasures.

  “At 3:32 PM Day 35, as a major delaying force of air units and supers went out to engage a massing swarm, this signal was picked up by their comms. We don’t know what the hell it was, or where it came from. All we know is that suddenly every electrical system around that swarm was fried to a crisp. The only worthwhile explanation we have is that the swarm was so damn dense that it started generating its own magnetic pulse. And that delaying force was dropped out of the sky right in front of them. The lucky ones died as they crashed.”

  ‘H-how…’

  “But the swarm didn’t stop there, it pushed all the way to the wall, killed the power to the auto defenses, and splayed out toward unfinished sections. The ones full of workers. The ones full of food. We almost lost the entire damn line that day! Heroes from across the spectrum did what they could, abandoned their ignored sections and ran to close the gaps. But in the end the only reason we held out was a counter push organized by Burning Eagle himself. And eventually… a sacrifice.”

  The slide changed but Seth couldn’t will himself to see it. What looked like a bird of massive proportions swooping over a blasted battlefield. And lighting it all on fire.

  “He burned himself to ash to give the League time to reorganize and re-man the wall. There are no words that can fully grasp what watching him fly down the line felt like. A broiling firestorm in his wake and a true blazing phoenix haloing him. I had never seen the full extent of his power till that day, and none ever will. Because that great bird crashed down and turned half a sector of killzone into a burning crater. It was as beautiful as it was pointless. A sacrifice too great to just hold one line.”

  Para’s words passed hollow, Seth couldn’t focus, could stay in the present. All he saw, all he heard, was what he’d passed on that road. What he’d demanded be held. What he demanded stay up and stay constant so… so he wouldn’t have to face those things again. And how pointless it all became.

  “As the line began to reform, and computerized and electrically driven systems became inoperable, the wall was rethought out.”

  The slide flipped and the spiraling guilt sucking Seth down abated in so small an increment. But still enough to see and keep up appearances at least. It was diagrams of the now manual wall defenses. The turrets, the assembly lines, the whole analog system.

  “The supers who helped in construction were reassigned to the now dead auto factories behind the wall. A lot of the unpowered construction workers stayed as well, in fact a massive call for volunteers was answered rather excessively. Soldiers and equipment were brought up en masse, the previous automated defenses were now fully manned and physically operated. Old combustion engines would have presented too much of a liability, so clockwork and muscle took the stage. The vast expanses of factories and facilities behind the line keeping the masses of soldiers supplied and rested. And every block of the wall was given permanent posts to be manned by supers 24/7.”

  Another slide, sketches and drawings of the wall, of the soldiers… and Rampart. Aegis’ dad. Familiarity adding more distance from the mounting guilt.

  “A delay and fry doctrine was put in place, fire being an effective counter to their healing ability. Defensive oriented supers were put on special platforms to draw the swarms in and keep them back, while flying and fire based supers were brought up to fry the waves that came. Artillery support was put in behind the lines so each unit had some amount of firepower ready if the supers were occupied. Incendiary and white phosphorus shells burn just as effectively as a super if used in sufficient numbers.”

  A new slide, a photo from the safe side of the wall. The stairs going up full of waiting soldiers. Seth reliving that hollow moment he had looking out from them. Seeing everything that kept… kept his town at bay. Kept… him at bay.

  “Each soldier was outfitted with a drum fed automatic shotgun with as much incendiary ammo as they could carry. Slash and stab resistant armor weighing them down. And enough reinforcements behind them to cover and replace them if they were ever overwhelmed. Despite all of this though, casualties were a fact of life.”

  Slide change, a photo of the turrets. Large barrels, conjoined in threes, paired up, and rotated on either side of an oscillating turret assembly. With see-through plastic tubes full of shells rolling into feeds.

  “The once automated turrets were shifted to clockwork power and operated manually. The skeletal frame constructed on site, fitted with analog 30 millimeter chainguns. They were highly replaceable, the assembly lines run around the clock even when it was quiet. Just so that, when one broke down or was ripped off, they could be swapped in less than a minute. The shells were printed on site as well, parallel assemblies and feeding tubes to the rails the turrets were lifted on. A constant backflow kept the ammo moving up, meaning they could fire till their barrels melted to slag. The only limitation being the batteries, hand wound clockwork boxes had to be run up with the troops. A primitive solution, but it was better than sourcing old mechanical generators or having some poor guy run a crank in the heat of battle.”

  The slide flipped again. This time photos of the mountains Para defended, artificial plinths running up into the high cliffs in the distance. With varying degrees of destruction beyond them.

  “I already told you all of the areas uncovered by the wall, but I’m adding this here just to cover my bases. The mountains to the north of Frigateville offered a natural deterrent to the laceroids. There’s no food up there after all. But it needed to be closed off to them regardless. Thus earth supers constructed these plateaus and strengthened existing rock walls to hamper any advance. This side only had supers, and each one had to fight for themselves. Fire support was limited, so powers that could delay the monsters were predominant.”

  The slide flipped back to The Wall, looking like an aftermath picture of the other side. The black dust built up toward the bottom like a grotesque gradient down the wall’s surface. And falling on numb senses as the guilt had eaten its fill.

  “This system had flaws, you can’t stop everything from getting through. But it held despite the casualties. Which only leaves the climax of this whole story, and the truest test to its validity. The Longest Day.”

  A new slide, but more of a still from…

  From Rampart’s TV special…

  Complete with dramatic lighting and toned down grime.

  “6:04 PM, Day 65 of the crisis. A massive swarm was spotted by reconnaissance flyers and what limited satellite imaging we still had. It was headed straight for Block 037, which was expected, but the scale and density was beyond anything they had faced before. If you haven’t been living under a rock these past few years you should know this part well. Rampart gave a rousing speech as he held back the first wave. The swarm clawing its way over itself unlike anything seen before, or since. And that wave kept coming… For 18 straight hours.”

  A dry, numbed gaze looked to Aegis sat in the corner. And saw kindred pain in the past that had brought them together. If only for a few hours.

  ”Turrets melted down and were thrown over the edge like boulders from a medieval castle. A whole division’s worth of troops were rotated through the night, with most being back on the wall by sun up and fighting till almost noon. The block’s artillery unit had to be reinforced from every surrounding unit, the original one running out of shells by morning. It wasn’t called the Longest Day for nothing. But whatever the hell was driving these things on finally whimpered out by midday, the swarm dispersing or falling back into cover like every one before it. And that… That was when we got the only real bright spot of this whole thing.”

  The slide flipped, but it was another drawing. Pencil sketch and rough paper. One of the soldiers on the wall had drawn… him. Drawn Seth walking out into the ruins. Out into…

  ‘I was the cause of this too…huh.’

  “The Sole Survivor of Brighton. Expeditions after the fact corroborate that he really was all that was left. But how, why he survived when everyone else didn’t are all still a mystery. Another one for the pile I guess. A few of the more conspiratorial theories say he was what was driving the swarm, but they are wholeheartedly disregarded.”

  ‘Oh… that’s good.’

  The tiniest pieces of bright side there ever was to this hellish truth were snatched up like a support blanket. Seth only able to cling to it as the survivor’s guilt had buried itself in the mountain he already had made of this so long ago. He was the cause of so much more death than he could have realized back then… But…

  ‘No… No I accepted this… It’s mine to carry.’

  That bright side was darkening by the second but… why was Para smiling?

  “Though I wouldn’t exactly fault them. This kid had walked for days… weeks, through devastation and carnage and survived. When Aegis pulled him out, he was skin and bone. Just as shell-shocked as the soldiers cheering his rescue. If the laceroids were running from him after all, then I sure as shit hope he’s still out there somewhere.”

  ‘W-wait…’

  “The sad thing is that we don’t know what happened to him.”

  ‘…Really?’

  “The last record we have says he was put into the overstressed foster system and lost among the orphans of all this. A victim of bureaucracy. Though given his condition it would be a small wonder if he even understood his own fame, or worse. His own power.”

  ‘You… don’t understand the half of it. What the fuck.’

  A better hold on that bright side seemed to finally come, from an odd a place as admiration from god damn Para of all people. There was no getting away from the weight piling on his back, but still…

  ‘Really…?!’

  “After that day, the crisis chugged along. The vast majority of the swarms had been chewed through all at once, so they died down as a result. At the initial peak there was one a day, soon that became maybe one every week. Attrition finally taking its toll. The wall stayed manned for several months to keep the pressure, but expeditions were started to root out any stragglers and get thorough intel on just what the hell had happened. The crisis was finally called off on Day 305, the last distraction flight garnering nothing but relief. The Wall finally shut down and left to rest as a memorial.”

  Para hit the lights, turning off the projector for good and staring down everyone as they strained against what had been put upon them.

  “Now then, I know full well which of you were deeply affected by this. But I’m not the only one who should know, so I’m giving you this chance. Raise your hand if you’ve been affected by the crisis. I know you’re all old enough to have understood it, so don’t hold it back.”

  Slowly most of the trainees raised their hands, Seth included. Para had probably been listening to heartbeats or something, he could see that being in his wheelhouse. The only ones who didn’t raise their hands were Ohm and Zeleny. Ohm obviously came from money so that made a little sense. And Zeleny was Czech so she was probably well removed from the fighting if not the war effort. Though she still seemed a little bit conflicted about not raising her hand.

  “Now then, who here was directly affected by the crisis? Family served, and whatnot.”

  A few hands lowered. Razor, Cleo, Marco, and Alex.

  “Now… Who lost someone to this?”

  Kabar, Jacob, and Tabby lowered their hands.

  Para moved up to each of the trainees who had made themselves more fully known, starting with David as they all lowered their hands at the solemn mood.

  “I don’t like giving out undo praise, but remember the water supers I said joined me in the mountains?”

  Para was unlike himself, softer at least. Tears were welling up in David’s eyes and he couldn’t help… could avoid what was oncome.

  “Your dad and uncle fought as best they could. I… was proud to have them flanking me.”

  Para looked pained, more grimaced saying that. But David didn’t seem to care, he shot up and tried to hug Para in perceived mutual sadness. Para stretched out his hand to stop him.

  “Stop it!”

  David sniffled his sad memories away, let his hug die, but still came back smiling as he wiped away the really excessive tears.

  “Just tell everyone your motivation already.”

  “I… I want to be a great hero like my dad, like uncle Crash.”

  He lowered his head.

  “I want to make their sacrifice matter. To make this world better for having had them in it.”

  Para nodded, but stayed a slight dismissive.

  “Good. That’s good enough.”

  He quickly moved on to Kaz, but slowed in respect more needed.

  “Your mother… right?”

  Kaz kept his calm, but Seth could see his disposition drop from his usual light stoic. Almost feel the tremble threatening to come out.

  “She held the line during Burning Eagle’s last flight. Made sure that none of those monster made it past her with all their limbs. Heh… I need to keep her memory alive. As best I can.”

  A slight smile was growing on his face in spite of his sadness.

  “Also... my dad would be a wreck if he didn’t have me balancing him out.”

  Kaz looked back up with a full sincere smile that Seth hadn’t seen on him, but Para was looking on with a little smug.

  “And there it is.”

  He shifted around him.

  “I never trusted your dad’s smile, it just hides the pain away.”

  Next came Maya, calloused hands rung into a ball for what little comfort they could offer. And yet not allowing Para to break what she knew too well.

  “My oldest brother was part of the crews caught during the massacre. He was the only one of my family that I looked up to. He wanted to be a hero as well, but my parents wouldn’t let him apply. So he volunteered and… And I need to be a hero like him! For him! Not just myself! He doesn’t deserve to be forgotten just because… I won’t let him be forgotten.”

  Para nodded down to her.

  “Noble, and thank you for finally being honest.”

  He turned away and approached Seth, seemingly fully aware and yet obviously unaware as to why he was affected.

  “This wasn’t specifically directed at you, even though there weren’t any doubts after you passed out just looking at The Wall. But there was plenty here that affected you as well. So spell it out for everyone else, even if it hurts.”

  ‘No mercy huh?’

  Seth drooped his head slightly, the itch to tell him the whole truth burned but it had to be kept secret. But he could settle for part of the way.

  “I... lost my parents… in Brighton.”

  Not exactly a lie... He couldn't have said truer words even if he wanted to. The surprised stares from the trainees said enough of how it hit, but they melted away into their real feelings on this. A few contemplative, probably thinking he was trying to equate to the sole survivor and steal more clout. Others at least were respectfully sorry. Para was unmoved.

  “They… they threw me onto one of the trucks that made it away. I barely knew what was going on just… just that people were dying… screaming. I saw things to I’d never wish upon anyone ever again. But…”

  Seth looked up at Para, the lie washed away by the true determination already made.

  “I need to pay back those debts Too many people died there…! To save me. Too many people suffered because… because they had to save me. I need to pay them back. And being a hero is the only way I feel like I’ll actually be able to do that. Just going on living isn’t enough. Not anymore.”

  Para stayed unmoved, but didn’t press further. He just turned away and readdressed the class.

  “I’d say that’s enough for today, just remember what I told you. Understand your own motives, and those of your allies. I’d say they’re plenty clear on this front, but you never know until you do. You’re dismissed.”

  The trainees filed out in silence. Too much relived and too much to think through. They all just walked back to their rooms, left with nothing but what was put upon them.

  Seth dropped onto his bed like a sack of bricks, guilt resurfacing from the pile and trying to spiral him down further and further into himself. His heartbeat the only sound he cared to listen to. But his repeating memories still held some bright spots in between the bleeding dark. A bit of strength pulling him to grab up the box on his nightstand.

  The red scarf inside was still vibrant, unblemished. He could still feel the warmth of it over his neck, the hold it gave, the bits of his early life it allowed him to even remember. He closed the box up and curled up with it tight to his chest, just wanting to sleep away this mounting depression. But Speaker saw the opportunity to help ease a bit of it as he found the calm to even hear him.

  “Please… do not blame yourself for this, we are far more at fault. Though, I guess that could be said for a lot of what has befallen this world.”

  Speaker was doing his best, but there was only so much he could do. Only so much he needed to do.

  ‘It’s… it’s fine.’

  Seth could take this new guilt, could live with it chewing at his back. He already had so much to deal with already, what was another facet of a horrendous disaster to lay out on top of it. He could still feel his resolve buried beneath it all. He knew what he wanted, and he knew he could keep going. All he had to do was get through this course and become a legitimate hero. Then it will be nothing but reparation for everything. And redemption at some far off point.

  Redemption for everything he’d left behind.