Everyone who worked with Miss Militia for longer than a few days knew she didn’t need to sleep, and anyone who worked with Armsmaster at all knew the man would happily pull an all-nighter if it meant more time in his workshop. Aegis wasn’t really surprised that either of them were there, despite the time and the fact that neither of them were on the roster for the night. The screen she was teleconferencing in through was flanked by two Protectorate capes, Miss Militia on one side and Armsmaster on the other.
Piggot wasn’t the only one waiting on his answer as he tried and failed once more to find a comfortable position. If he tried to break out of the cell, if Piggot pressed a button, or if any one of a dozen other criteria were fulfilled, the entire room would be filled with enough containment foam that not even strength and flight would let him pry himself free. A fair mechanical whirring came from the ceiling as the containment foam dispensers of the Master/Stranger cell moved to track him. Would you please, in your own words, explain to us how a routine patrol and a report of some minor gang activity led to a violent encounter with a new cape?”Īegis shifted again. The restrained anger of that single word made Aegis flinch harder than he had during the entire fight that led to this meeting. If Piggot wasn’t telling people why, there was nothing good to be gained from digging into it. For his part, Aegis was too smart to ask. No one really knew what was special about that block of time, or if they did they were keeping their mouths shut. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be bothered or was busy, she’d always teleconference in like she was now, but she never came in person. Normally, in this situation Piggot would have come in herself, but this within the nebulous block of time between late at night and early in the morning where Piggot never came in. All in all, Aegis looked like he’d been put through a meat grinder, then put through again for good measure.Īcross from him and on the other side of six inches of reinforced plexiglass sat PRT Director Piggot. The red of his leggings hid most of the wounds below the waist, but they were almost as numerous there. His neck looked like raw hamburger meat from when the first monster had tried to bite out his windpipe, and more than a few other bitemarks decorated his body.
Others practically covered his torso, with the worst being a set of parallel slashes running from the bottom of his ribcage to his groin, the evidence of a near-disemboweling strike from taloned feet. And right now, he was very injured.ĭeep gashes lined his arms, focused around the wrists, elbows, and shoulders. It made logical sense, his power made sure his injuries weren’t much more than inconveniences, but it also meant he had no protection against getting injured in the first place. Out of all the Wards, he was the only one to not have armor incorporated into his costume. He’d stripped off the top of his costume just to get the wet mass of the blood-soaked fabric off of him, leaving his wounds on full display. To an onlooker, it would have seemed a miracle that he was only uncomfortable. He wasn’t in pain, his power saw to that, but even without the pain it felt weird to shift an arm and find too much give because the skin and muscle had a gap torn into them, or to shift his weight and find himself overcorrecting because the connective tissues up one side were gone. Aegis shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position.
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